Selina kissed John goodbye, waving at him as his car pulled out of the garage. By conventional standards, she should have been the happiest woman in the world. If it weren't for John, who knows what would have happened to her. Probably she would have ended up like her two older sisters. In fact, there was no doubt about it. Her family was a poor one, living in the workers section of Madrid. When her father died, there was only one course opened for his daughters. One by one they marched into the streets, selling their young bodies to the highest bidder.
It was a couple of months before her eighteenth birthday that Selina met John in a bar in downtown Madrid. He was an American tourist, wealthy and quite good looking. For Selina he was a ticket out of the gutter. She saw in him a way to escape the filth and degradation to which she would inevitably fall. Selina wanted more than the squalor in which she had live all of her life. She wanted to become more than a cheap prostitute. And, as she sat, talking to John that night, she knew that he was her only chance. Soon she would be eighteen. That's the age when she would be thrown out of the house. That's when she would have to start supporting herself.
Selina used every trick in the book. She knew about men. She knew how to manipulate them. She knew how to make them stand on pins and needles. And, therefore, it came as no surprise to her when John proposed marriage. At first Selina hesitated. It was all part of the game.
"I don't know," she said. "I need time to think. I'm not sure that I'm old enough to get married."
Selina made John wait a whole week before accepting his proposal. They were finally married in a small Spanish chapel in Barcelona, and after all the proper papers were drawn up Selina became an American citizen and came to live with John in Connecticut.
John was an insurance broker and he made quite a good deal of money, providing his wife with whatever she wished. He was a model husband, being kind, polite and considerate. Selina couldn't have asked for more. And, indeed, she was quite grateful. In return, she gave John what he wanted most in the world, in return for his kindness Selina gave to John the fruits of her body. She satisfied his every whim. In fact she taught him a couple of things which she had learned from her sisters. John was quite happy.
But, for various reasons, his Spanish wife was not Though John provided Selina with all the material comforts he was unable to satisfy her lusts. John didn't understand her. He didn't understand women at all. He didn't know what it takes to satisfy them.
Physically John was a healthy specimen. His cock was longer than average. Eight inches of fine white meat. Selina loved it. It was the only part of John for which she had total respect. Before going to sleep, she would pull down his pajamas and kiss his manhood with sincere tenderness. She loved it But that was the only part of him that she loved.
Sitting at the kitchen table, sipping her second cup of coffee, Selina felt nothing but disgust and contempt for her American born husband. He had no spine or backbone. He wasn't a man. He always buckled in, under her pressure. Sometimes Selina regretted having married him.
"Fuck it ..." she muttered, getting up from the table.
A tall, shapely young girl, Selina was nineteen, and very proud of her figure. Standing in front of the mirror, in her bedroom, Selina's eyes gleamed. Slowly she untied the smock which covered her satin smooth young body, letting it fall gracefully to the carpeted floor. Underneath she was naked, except for a pair of pink and white bloomers which clung tightly to her luxurious hips.
Selina stared at her breasts and felt excited. She didn't know what it was, but suddenly she was aroused. A tingling sensation shot through her body. A wave of libidinal passion swept through her thighs. Slowly her cherry red nipples began to bud. They grew stiff and firm, as though a magician had cast some magic spell over them.
The body was truly a strange and mysterious object, which always fascinated Selina's curiosity. What was it that made a man's soft limpid cock grow into a hard, enormous monstrosity? Often Selina would lie in bed, next to John, and stroke his genitals, watching them stiffen. She loved to excite John. She loved to tease him.
She got some sort of perverse pleasure in bringing him to the brink and then making him back off. Just when he was ready to stick it in, Selina would turn over, and yawn.
"I'm too tired," she would explain.
"But ..." John would mutter.
Selina only smiled.
"If you're so hard up," she would say, quite innocently, "why don't you go to the toilet and whack off. If you want I'll come and watch."
That's the way she was with him. And now, as she stood in front of the mirror, Selina couldn't help thinking about one such occasion, when John actually did that.
It was a hot August night. The two of them had been making love for over an hour. John was trying his best to stimulate his wife. He kissed her breasts tenderly, as his finger gently massaged her throbbing clitoris. He darted into her vagina with both fingers. But it was no use. Selina lay on the bed, like a cold fish.
"It's no use," she finally said, placing her hands on his burning hot testicles. "I don't feel anything."
"But ..." John pleaded. "Maybe if I stick it in, it'll be better."
"No," replied Selina. "I'm not ready yet, and if you stick it in, it'll hurt."
That was always her excuse. She knew that John would never want to hurt her. She knew how he worshipped her, and how he would do almost anything to keep from inflicting pain on her.
"Why don't you jerk off in front of me?" said Selina, gently, and with a great deal of tenderness. "I've never seen a man masturbate. I think I would enjoy watching you. How about it sweetheart. How about doing it for your poor little old baby. Please honey, do it for me."
John took his erected organ into both of his hands and started rubbing it very gently. Slowly, and then more vigorously, his nimble fingers moved back and forth. John was well versed in the art of masturbation. Ever since he was a young boy of twelve it had been his primary source of sexual outlet. For the past fifteen years, whenever he felt the tensions of the day mount to an unbearable point he would lock himself in the toilet and stroke passionately, almost desperately, the wild meat inside his pants.
When he married Selina he had hoped to put an end to this shameful practice. He had hoped to discontinue it altogether. Because, although masturbation provided him with a garden of heavenly pleasure, it was also a source of great discomfort a source of anxiety and guilt.
Now he stood in the bedroom of his forty thousand dollar ranch house, holding his testicles, as his Spanish wife watched the secret ceremony. John didn't know whether to laugh or to cry. It was all so ludicrous. This girl whom he had married turned out to be a goddamn cock teasing bitch. She lay on the bed completely naked, her legs spread obscenely so that he could see the excitement of her throbbing genitals. He could look, but there was no touching allowed.
"Why can't I stick it in?" John pleaded.
Selina was adamant.
"We've been through that before," she insisted. "I'm not ready yet."
John looked at the reddened lips which formed the opening to her delicious vagina. She could see that they were wet. She was lubricating like a bitch in heat Her pubic hair glistened with vaginal fluids. Like hell she wasn't ready. She was as ready as she would ever be.
Every emotion in his body demanded that John force his way into her. That was what he should have done. That's what Selina was secretly hoping that he would do. But he was afraid. He was afraid of Selina. She was a devil. He had realized it too late. But he had realized it just the same. She was a she-devil, and he was afraid of her.
So he stood there, pounding his pud. Beating the meat. He stood there, in full view of his wife, massaging his stiffened organ, and she looked on curiously. Slowly she got up and kissed his testicles. He kept rubbing as she opened her mouth and smacked her lips obscenely. She felt a tingle of orgiastic excitement burn in her belly. She curled up on the bed, writhing excitedly, as if there was something tearing open her pubis. She wanted John's cock in a mean way. She wanted it badly. But she would restrain herself. She despised John. He was so weak. She couldn't stand his touching her. She couldn't stand him at all. So she lay on the bed and contented herself watching as he masturbated. It was an act of degradation. And it gave Selina pleasure, degrading him.
John kept rubbing, lost in his own reverie. His nostrils were filled with Selina's vaginal odor. It intoxicated him. It drove him mad. It drove him out of his mind. His body was on fire. He was approaching his thunderous orgasm. He tightened his stomach, preparing himself for the moment. All the muscles in his body grew rigid, in anticipation.
Then all of a sudden he came. White hot semen came barreling out of his enormous organ. In spurts of nervous excitement it shot into the air, landing on the mahogany bureau across the room. John fell to the floor exhausted. He had shot his load. It was all gone. Selina walked over and kissed his already shrinking organ. A secret desire burned in her.
If only she could cut it off. If only she could cut off her husband's magnificent manhood and have it stuffed and mounted. That indeed would be a monumental trophy. She would hang those scrumptious genitals over her bed. Then, every night, before going to sleep, she would kiss them and suck them in divine ecstasy.
Ever since that night in August Selina had refused to make love to her husband. She refused to have intercourse with him. Though he begged and pleaded she wouldn't change her mind.
Four months had passed and it was already the middle of December and Selina stood in her bedroom, trying to decide what to wear. She had an appointment with the hairdresser at twelve thirty and then at two she was supposed to meet John's brother, Wendell, for coffee.
Selina hadn't the slightest idea as to what it was all about It seems that Wendell had called her late yesterday in the afternoon and requested the meeting.
"Of course," Selina sighed into the telephone.
"Don't tell John about this," Wendell had ordered. "I don't want him to know."
Under ordinary circumstances Selina would have laughed it all off. But Wendell sounded dead serious. He wasn't one to take things too lightly. In almost every respect he was the opposite of his brother. He was a cold and ruthless person, with eyes that revealed nothing. Not even the slightest trace of an emotion.
Wendal was an unknown quantity to Selina. She didn't know how to treat him. He was rich, and Chairman of the Board of Mutual of Hartford, one of the largest insurance firms in the country. It was due to his influence that John held a lucrative, thirty-thousand dollars a year position with the company.
"I'll meet you at LaScala's for a drink tomorrow in the afternoon."
"But ..." Selina had tried to interrupt.
"No buts'," Wendell had insisted. "You be there tomorrow at two, if you know what's good for you. I'm a busy man. I don't like getting stood up."
With those words he had hung up. Selina could still recall his cold crisp voice. It was so clear. It was so precise. It was the kind of voice that women like to obey. It was the kind of voice that melts a woman, and turns her into a slave.
Selina felt a little excited and at the same time a little scared at the prospect of the meeting. She pulled off her bloomers and stepped into the shower. The water was a little too cold, and the girl with the long black hair shuddered ever so slightly. She took a bar of soap and scrubbed herself thoroughly.
Her hands glided across her breasts and around her soft exciting belly, glazing her supple young body with a foamy layer of sudsy soap. Though Selina wouldn't admit it to herself she was cleaning herself for Wendell. In the back of her mind she desired him. Her body throbbed just thinking about him.
Slowly Selina's fingers slid between her thighs. She scrubbed as hard as she could. She wanted to be clean and fresh smelling. She wanted to sparkle for the afternoon appointment. She wanted to smell like the morning dew. Just like a shimmering diamond.
Getting out of the shower, Selina dried herself meticulously, wrapping her smooth young body in the thick ponderous bath towel. She snuggled inside of it, falling to the carpeted floor.
Slowly her fingers ran across her breast across her tummy and down to her white hot thighs. They were milky thighs. They were wild exciting thighs. They were thighs that could give a man a great deal of pleasure.
Selina spread her legs apart inserting her fingers into her cavernous vagina. It would take a big man to satisfy her. It would take a mighty big man.
Selina wondered how big Wendell was. She wondered if he was as big as John. Laying there on the carpet her body was hot with excitement. Her pussy was starting to juice. Selina couldn't control herself. Even thinking about a man started this reaction. It caused her delicious young nipples to stiffen and erect. A wave of pleasure filled her body, ripping at her breasts.
Selina slowly took the very tips of her fingers and inserted them through the outer folds of her pulsating vagina. She very gently massaged the excited flesh of her labia and clitoris. Slowly her fingers penetrated the inner cavity.
"Ohhhhhh ..." she moaned, her body writhing like a nervous snake. She gyrated obscenely, rolling back and forth across the floor. There was no stopping her. She was lost in her own passions. She was engulfed in her own lusts. She couldn't restrain herself at all.
She rolled across the carpeted floor like a wild young animal. Like a bitch, frenzied by heat She sought satisfaction. She wanted so badly to climax. She wanted it very, very badly. In fact after reading some books, she was afraid that she was frigid.
Even as a young girl in Spain she had never had a boyfriend who could completely satisfy her. Sure she had fun. She used to enjoy making love in the barns and in the fields with her young lovers. But she always left frustrated. She could never reach a high. It had always taken self-manipulation to bring her to the mountain. Only the act of masturbation could bring to her the desired satisfaction.
Selina kept rolling on her belly, her soft, swelling breasts tingling delightfully. Her fingers kept jabbing into the excited vagina. The lubricating fluids were running freely as Selina's thumb moved back and forth.
She gasped for breath. She could feel the climactic orgasm approaching. Her heart pounded furiously, like a jack-hammer. Every muscle in her body tightened. She suddenly screamed. A loud piercing cry. A scream that shot through the air like bolts of lightning.
"Aughhhh ..." Selina moaned, her thighs beating vigorously.
She drew one last gasp of air and then exploded like a rocket ship. It felt like electricity rushing through her loins. It was so good. It was so beautiful. She was at peace with everything. It made her forget about John, and about Wendell, and about her whole unhappy life. It was like a narcotic drug. It made everything go away.
But only for a moment. Laying there, naked on the floor, her shivering body hugging the bath towel, Selina was suddenly brought back to the present.
She would have to get dressed. It was already about eleven o'clock. She got up from the bathroom floor and rushed across the hall to her bedroom.
Quickly she stepped into a pair of pink lace panties, pulling them up past her thighs and buttocks, till they fitted snugly around her waist. Then came the brassiere. A pretty white brassiere which she strapped around her shoulders and over her meaty white breasts. Selina took a size thirty-six with a D cup. She was a big, busty girl. John loved her breasts. He always kissed them and he liked to put his head on them before he went to sleep.
Selina fastened the garter belt around her belly, pulling up her stockings to her mid-thighs and then clasping them with the iron clasp. She found a blue slip, with a pink and orange border, hanging in the closet. She put that on and then stepped into a pretty cotton knit with a low plunging neckline.
It was a sexy dress clinging to Selina, hugging the fleshy curves of delicious body. After a few touches of makeup, she as ready.
She was ready for her appointment with the hairdresser. And then ... then she would meet Wendell.
Chapter Two
Selina waited till three o'clock before Wendell arrived. He was an hour late, and she was boiling mad. Who the hell did he think he was? The son-of-a-bitch!
"Sorry," he said, aware of her anger. "Sorry I was late. But I got caught up in a meeting. You know how those things go. You never know when they'll end."
"Oh," smiled Selina, "it's all right"
What else could she say?
The two of them had a couple of drinks and then Wendell invited Selina to come over to his apartment on Livingston Street, a very exclusive section in Hartford.
"But you said you wanted to talk to me about something important," said Selina. "Why can't you tell me here."
"Because I prefer not to," answered Wendell, caustically. He took Selina by the hand and led her out the door. She followed quite docilely, just like a puppy dog.
In the cab, Wendell put his arm around her waist, squeezing her voluptuous belly with great tenderness Selina didn't know what to make of any of it. What was Wendell trying to do? Was he making a pass at his brother's wife? Was he trying to seduce her? Was he bringing her up to his apartment for business or for his own personal pleasure?
From what Selina had heard about him, it turned out that Wendell was quite a ladies' man. The local gossip was always chattering about his latest capers. In the past five years there had been no less than seven paternity suits instituted against him. He was acquitted on all of them, though he should have been found guilty. He indeed, was guilty.
Now he was sitting next to Selina, his hands fumbling at her dress. He slipped his arm over her shoulders and pressed her close to him.
"You needn't be afraid," he whispered softly. "You'll only get what you want."
"What do you mean?" asked Selina, trying to lose herself from his grip. She made only a very feeble attempt. Though she sensed that some strange and morbid game was being played out she nevertheless felt a mysterious attraction toward the perpetrator of that game. Down deep she knew that it was dangerous to follow Wendell. Her female intuition warned her that it was some kind of a trick. Wendell was out to destroy her. There was no doubt about that in her mind.
And yet she followed him. Somehow she couldn't resist. He attracted her, in the same way that a flame attracts a moth. Her libidinal hunger drove her forward making her follow him in spite of the risks.
Just looking at Wendell made Selina's mouth water. It tantalized her appetite. It excited her. It made her hungry. She was so hungry that she would have eaten him right there, in the taxi cab. Hut she restrained herself.
Instead she pressed her soft young breasts against his shoulders. Her fingers rubbed gently across his crotch, massaging with great delicacy.
"You like it?" he asked, a smile on his face.
"You bet," she whispered, obscenely. "I'm very hungry. As a matter of fact, I'm starving. You wouldn't want your poor little sister-in-law to starve. Tell me, darling, would you let little old me starve?"
"Well," whispered Wendell, "I don't know. Hasn't my brother John been feeding you?"
"But he doesn't know how to satisfy my hunger." Selina laughed. "It'll take a man like you to fill me up."
"Well," smiled Wendell, "I've got lots of rich lean beef. I've got more than enough."
"And ..." asked Selina, "can you make it the way I like it?"
"I'll make it any way you want it," was the instant reply. "Whatever you want, you'll get."
"Thanks ..." whispered Selina, pressing her tender bosom against Wendell's arm.
The taxi came to an abrupt halt Wendell paid the driver, taking Selina's hand and leading her to his apartment. A well decorated place, the mahogany walls were covered with Japanese prints and original Picasso ink drawings. The floors were thick with comfortable red and blue oriental rugs.
"It's beautiful," cooed Selina, "it looks just like a playboy penthouse."
"It is," replied Wendell, handing the girl a drink.
Selina stepped out of her shoes and started dancing around the room. It was an obscene dance and every so often she would lift her dress and spread her legs erotically.
"See what I got down here," she whispered, pulling down her panties. "I've got a beautiful Spanish pussy. Wanna see my pussy?"
"Yes," nodded Wendell, who was sitting on the couch, sipping his vodka and lime.
"If you wanna see my pussy," laughed Selina, "then you gotta let me look at your cock. When I was a little girl I used to make all the boys undress and walk in front of me naked. I loved to look at their balls. I guess all women are like that. They love a man's genitals. It intoxicates me. It makes me delirious. It makes me wanna get down on my knees, like a bitch, and suck them off."
"If you want cock meat so much," said Wendell, "then why do you treat my brother John so badly. That's the reason I invited you over here. John has been telling me that the two of you haven't been seeing eye to eye. He told me that you won't let him come into bed with you."
"Fuck John," was the girl's reply. "Your brother is an asshole. Let's not talk about him. Let's talk about us. I wanna get laid. I wanna eat cock. It's been over a month since I've had a man. And believe me, I'm as horny as I've ever been. God, am I horny."
Wendell gave out a nervous laugh, unbuckling his pants. He let them drop-to the floor. Selina could see his erection, as it bulged under his jockey shorts. She ran to him, like a frenzied woman, like a wild bitch, and ripped them off.
"It's beautiful," she exclaimed at the top of her lungs. "You've got one of the most beautiful cocks I've ever seen. How long is it?"
"I don't know," was Wendell's answer. "I really haven't measured it"
"Then I'll get a ruler and I'll measure it" said Selina frantically.
She ran to the kitchen where she found a measuring tape. Returning to Wendell, who was taking off his shirt, she got down on her knees and kissed him on his calves and thighs and buttocks, scratching his chest with her sharp nails.
"Stand straight" she commanded. "I wanna measure it. I wanna see how long it is. If it's long enough, I'll let you stick it into my pussy."
She took Wendell's erection in her palms and straightened it out measuring it from the base to the head. She seemed satisfied, jumping up and down wildly. It was seven and three-quarter inches long.
"That's pretty good," remarked Wendell.
"Well," said Selina, an evil smile on her face, "I guess you pass inspection. But I want you to know your brother has one that's longer."
"How long is his cock," asked Wendell, angry.
"It's eight and a quarter inches long," said the girl with the long black hair, in a tone of pride. "He's a pretty big boy, that brother of yours."
"So am I," replied Wendell.
Selina was silent, unzipping her dress. She pulled it over her head and threw it across the floor. Wendell stared at her. He could see that her panties were soaked through. They were wet with vaginal fluids. The sweet smell of erotic delight wafted through the air. Wendell breathed deeply, filling his lungs with her smell. He delighted in it Never had he met a more tempting morsel. Never had he seen a more delightful piece of ass.
He walked over to her and unhooked her brassiere, taking the girl's fine young breasts in his hands. They were so soft and so tender. They were like two pieces of delicious fruit. They were like two mangoes, delightful to the touch.
"Kiss them," ordered Selina.
She was no longer in control of herself. She was now a slave to her senses. To her libidinal lusts. Nothing mattered any more. The only thing that was important to her was to gain satisfaction. She longed for relief from the burning fire that sprang up in her loins. It was driving her crazy. She was in a frenzy.
Her clitoris throbbed hungrily. It was red and wet with the juice of sexuality. It ached with hunger. It burned with sensation. It was uncontrollable. Selina, like all other women, had only one thing on her mind at that moment. Only one thing was important to her.
Sex does strange things to people, especially women. It turns them into tigresses, with burning eyes and flashing teeth. Selina was a tigress. She was turning over to the demands of her lust. She wanted to get laid. She wanted to eat cock. She wanted Wendell to eat her pussy.
"Kiss my breasts," she ordered once again, nuzzling Wendell's lips to her cleavage. She moaned in excruciating delight as his teeth bit into her nipples. She was flying high, on cloud nine, lost in a reverie of masturbatory fantasy. A spark of electricity shot through her whole being as Wendell's tongue licked her bosom. He was down on his knees, licking her just like a wild dog.
He ripped off he panties and silk stocking, tearing and squeezing at her pink buttocks. The girl squirmed delightfully, squirming and gyrating, as his tongue darted between her legs, licking the sweet meat of her pubis. With the expertise of a professional, Wendell performed cunnilungus upon her.
After stripping her naked, tearing the French garter belt which clung to her voluptuous belly, Wendell lifted her in his arms and carried her to his bedroom. Throwing her onto the bed, like Tarzan, he jumped in after her, his whole body tingling in anticipation.
"Eat my pussy," Selina moaned, as Wendell gently massaged the insides of her white hot thighs.
"Eat me ... Eat me ..." she repeated over and over.
"You bet honey," was Wendell's reply.
He placed his lips on hers, kissing her, while his palms were stroking the hair of her pussy. It was delightfully soft and it reminded Wendell of a little furry animal.
Slowly Wendell's mouth descended across the girl's naked shivering body. He kissed her breasts and pink nipples. They were such delicious nipples, and Wendell slobbered over them, sucking and biting on them. They grew firm and erect in his mouth, like two hard red cherries. For such nipples a man would be willing to die. Just to behold the exquisite delights of those firm young breasts a man would gladly consent to march against the devil. That's how much pleasure they could bring. That's how much pleasure Wendell felt.
Slowly and deliberately he continued his exploration of the fair maid's naked body. He kissed her fleshy stomach and voluptuous belly, slipping his hand between her legs and underneath her buttocks. He caressed and fondled them, experiencing supreme ecstasy.
Finally, when he could hear Selina moaning, his lips nuzzled between her legs. His mouth was on her twat. He kissed the wet labia which formed the outer folds of her vagina with great tenderness. He licked up the pussy juice which was being excreted by Selina in great quantities. She was hotter than a firecracker. And she tasted so delicious. Though Wendell was no gourmet, there was no doubt in his mind as to the excellence of the meal he was in the process of eating. It was pure ambrosia. It was the food of the gods. It was a meal fit for a king.
Breathing in deeply Wendell inhaled the sharp vaginal odor being secreted by Selina's genitalia. It smelled better than the most exotic of perfumes. It had an aroma and a vintage which could compare with the most exquisite wines. Indeed, it smelled like heaven itself. Just like heaven.
Wendell started eating ravenously, his lips sucking at Selina's vagina. He could never remember being so hungry. He could never remember enjoying a meal quite so much.
Selina, for her part, lay prostrate on the bed, biting her lips, as the man ate her pussy. She squirmed with delight as she felt Wendell's tongue, like a lascivious snake, dart in and out of her vagina. She gasped for breath as she felt the orgasm mount on her insides. It was building up. Her heart beat fast at a frenzied pace. She closed her eyes and screamed.
"Ohhhhh ..." she yelled as the cataclysm rocked through her body. Her hands flayed wildly. Her feet kicked in every direction. She was getting what she longed for. She was getting satisfaction. And a man was bringing it to her.
"Ohhh ..." she moaned again. "I'm coming. I'm coming!"
Like a bolt of electricity it made her jump and kick all over the bed.
"Thank you," she finally said to Wendell, after the last wild tremors had passed. "Thank you very much. I don't know how I can repay you. I've never been able to reach a climax with a man before."
"Not even with my brother?" asked Wendell, curiously.
"Especially not with him," was Selina's answer. "That's the reason I stopped fucking for him. I figured it was no use. He just couldn't cut the mustard. He just couldn't satisfy me."
"But I did," said Wendell proudly.
"Yes," sighed the girl. "I don't know how I can ever repay you."
"Well," said Wendell, "the pleasure was all mine. There's nothing like a good piece of fresh pussy pie to break the daily monotony. You can't believe how good you tasted to me. I can't remember ever tasting a piece of cunt that was so delightful. It was so natural. You're not like some of the girls that I date. Do you know what they do?"
"What"
"Well, there's this girl named Nichole," said Wendell thoughtfully. "She works in the accounting department of my company. You'll never believe what that bitch does. She smears this pussy deodorant all over her cunt."
"I would never do that" said Selina. "I believe that a girl should be natural. That's how all the girls in Spain are. They're natural. We know that a man loves to suck pussy juice. A man likes the bittersweet smell."
"You bet," interrupted Wendell. "There's nothing in the whole world quite like it. I am invigorated by it. It refreshes me. It pumps me full of life."
By this time Selina had spotted Wendell's erection. She was growing tired of talking. She was an action girl. She looked at the fine white meat of the man's hardened cock and her eyes gleamed. Her teeth flashed a wicked smile.
"I'm hungry," she whispered, staring at the man's genitals. "I'm hungry for cock meat."
Wendell got to his feet standing in the middle of the bed, his arms stretched out toward the ceding.
"Then eat, my love," he whispered. "Eat from the tree of knowledge and sip from the chalice of opportunity."
Selina couldn't have been more enthusiastic, rushing at Wendell frantically. She fell to her knees, kissing his hard muscular stomach. There was no holding her back. In a moment her mouth was on his balls.
She gently fondled his balls, stroking him gently between his legs. With her tongue she kissed and licked the head of Wendell's throbbing organ. It was a big as a tree. He was, indeed, a big boy.
Selina kissed his loins and knees, squeezing and scratching his buttocks. Just the feel of him made her body go weak and limpid. She suddenly felt very much in love. She would do anything for this man. She would become his slave, if he wished. All she asked for was the right to touch him.
Wendell felt sparks of flame jump through his insides, squirming, as Selina bit into his magnificent organ. She was really putting her heart into it. She was giving it the old college try.
Wendell could tell that Selina was not experienced in the art of fellatio. Instead of sucking she was biting. Indeed she was biting so hard that he could feel the blood flowing from a gash which she had inflicted. He screamed in excruciating pain. He almost fainted as Selina continued with the blow-job.
She kept sucking and biting and scratching, lost in a reverie of sexual fantasy. She felt titillated when Wendell finally climaxed.
He shot his load right inside of her mouth. It came barreling from his genitals and she gulped hard, swallowing the salty tasting semen.
"Are you all through, my love?" she finally asked, licking the sticky fluids with her tongue.
"I'm all petered out," he smiled. "Give me an hour to reload."
"But I have to go home," whispered Selina. "What will my husband John think."
It was almost six o'clock. If she hurried she would make it home before him. She quickly got dressed, kissing Wendell, who escorted her to the street.
"Goodbye," he said.
"Goodbye," she smiled, "I really spent a delightful afternoon."
Chapter Three
As Selina mounted the stairs to her West Hartford ranch house she was seized by pangs of fear and guilt What if John was already home. What if he asked her where she was coming from. John was just like a pro-securing attorney when he asked questions. He kept pushing. He kept goading. He was never satisfied until he got the truth.
What if he asked her where she was? What if he would ask here where she had spent the afternoon? What could she say? It was already past seven. He would certainly be suspicious.
Selina felt like crying. What would happen to her if John found out about her affair with Wendell. Most certainly he would divorce her. In fact, there was no question about that in her mind. After the way she had been treating him, refusing him access to her bed for over four months she couldn't blame him. She couldn't blame him if he divorced her. No, she couldn't blame him at all.
Selina took a deep breath and rang the doorbell. Once. Twice. Again and again she rang it. There was no answer. That could only mean one thing, he wasn't home yet. That seemed strange. John always came home at six thirty sharp. She reached into her purse and found the keys.
Sighing a breath of relief she pushed open the heavy oak door, stepping into the dark hallway. She was certainly glad that John wasn't home. He probably stopped into a bar with a couple of friends for a drink. Sure, that's why he was late. Just having some drinks.
Still that was not like John at all. He was always very prompt In fact thinking back, she couldn't remember a single time when he'd come home later than seven. Not a single instance. And now it was almost a quarter to eight
Kicking off her shoes Selina padded to the upstairs bedroom to remove her French garter belt. She always wiggled out of it in relief, before taking off her dress. She hung the dress, unfastened the hooks on her brassiere, placing it neatly beside the dress, then stood nude and cool for a moment staring at the rack of clothes. She selected the dark blue silk lounging slacks, and a matching see through blouse. Wouldn't John be surprised when he saw her? He loved her breasts. He loved to look at them. He loved to kiss them, and put his mouth around them. She had denied that pleasure to him for a long time. But now she would change that. She would change her whole attitude toward him. She'd treat him good. From now on she would let him sleep with her. She would let him have his rights over her body. So what if he didn't satisfy her? With time he would learn. All he needs is a little more time.
Walking down to the kitchen Selina felt a tingle of sensuality, as the sleek fabric of the blouse rubbed against her nipples. All of a sudden she was in flames once again. She was in the mood for some sex. It was an overwhelming desire, like the rush of a hurricane that engulfed her.
All of a sudden she was thinking of Wendell once again. She saw his face in front of her and his hard muscular body pressing against her yielding flesh. He was so delicious, his face rugged and unflinching. What was it about Wendell that was so appealing? Selina couldn't quite place it but she knew she was trapped by him. She was his, to do with as he pleased. He could satisfy the lust in her body. He could stop that crazy itching in her vagina. He could make the whole world go away. He could make her lose herself, and forget about everything.
There had only been one other man who had been like that. Of all the men she had been with, and there were quite a few, in spite of what she had told John, there was only one other who had made her feel what it was to be a woman. Only one other.
Selina thought back, to when she was still a young girl of fourteen She remembered Pedro. He was seventeen, and he was a next door neighbor. He had never really taken any kind of interest in her but now as she was beginning to develop and mature things were changing.
Her breasts were beginning to grow large and her awkward gangly body was beginning to fill out with the curves of womanhood. Selina was aware of the change that was beginning to take place inside of her and she was proud and at the same time a little embarrassed. She wasn't sure how she could cope with her desires. She satisfied the longing in her vagina with masturbation. It was a habit which her girlfriend, Anna, had taught her.
"At night I do it," Anna had said. "If I don't do it I can't fall asleep."
Anna had told Selina to stick her finger into her pubis and to rub vigorously.
"You have to keep rubbing until you come. It's the best feeling in the world to climax. There isn't anything quite like it in the whole world."
Selina had first discovered the pleasures of masturbation when she was thirteen years old, and it had been her constant companion. After the first time, it was a hard habit to break.
But still, if masturbation was good, then how much better would it be to ball with a guy? How much better would it be to feel his firm erection as it pierced the outer folds of her vagina. It would be like heaven itself. It would be the most delicious thing in the whole world. It would provide her with the greatest amount of satisfaction.
Sitting on the steps of her house Selina brooded and wished the boys would start talking to her. She was now fourteen, almost fifteen. She sat there watching as they kicked the soccer ball around in the dusty, cobble stoned streets and she wished one of them would approach her. She saw their sleek dark bodies, glistening with sweat and shimmering in the sun, and she was filled with a longing which swept through her vitals. Just to touch a man's testicles. Just to place her mouth on his penis. That would be the greatest pleasure in the world.
But for some reason none of the boys seemed to take any kind of interest in her. They were indifferent to her. They didn't even answer her when she spoke to them. They didn't want their friends to think they were sissies.
Selina got up from the steps and started walking to the plaza to get a loaf of bread for her mother. And, suddenly, out of nowhere Pedro appeared. He spoke to her a little and walked around with her that morning.
"Let's go to the park together," he suggested.
"But I have some bread to bring home," said Selina, a little nervous.
"Then after," he said.
"All right"
In the park, with nobody looking, Pedro took Selina's hand, leading her off the pathway into the bushes. Selina didn't resist, her insides were tingling with anticipation. She knew what he would do. She had heard her older sisters talk about their boyfriends.
"They take you by the hand very gently," one of them had said, smirking, "and before you know, he's got his pants open and he's ready to fuck you. All these guys are interested in is getting laid."
Selina was ready when Pedro pulled her close to him. His hands slid down her back and onto her buttocks, as he kissed her hard on the mouth, sticking his tongue into her. Selina could feel herself getting wet on the insides. She was wetting right through her bloomers. She wondered if the stain would show on her dress.
Pedro's hand slowly slid between her legs. He began rubbing her buttocks and her white hot thighs.
"No ..." she protested, as he began to undress her. He was unbuttoning the back of her blue print, and already his fingers were fumbling with her brassiere.
"No ..." Selina said again. "Someone will see us. They'll think I'm a tramp if they catch us."
"Don't worry," Pedro said reassuringly. "Just put your hands right over here and feel it. Doesn't it feel good? Your friend, Anna, liked it. She said that you would also like it Just trust me. Soon you will be able to hold it and kiss it. Isn't that what you want?"
"Uh-huh," Selina nodded.
"That's my girl," said Pedro, kissing her shoulders, and the nape of her white neck, as he removed the cotton dress, folding it neatly and hanging it on the branch of a nearby tree. Selina now stood in her bra and bloomers in full view of Pedro. She didn't even feel ashamed. Not in the least bit. She only felt the lust of her body. She hungered for satisfaction. She wanted to bury herself in his arms. There she knew she would find the pleasure she sought There she would find the Garden of Eden. Inside of Pedro's trousers was a delicious snake. He was the forbidden fruit. He was what she had sought and longed for. Soon she would taste him. Soon she would eat him and feel satisfaction in her belly.
Pedro stared at Selina incredulously. He had always thought of her as his little sister. He had never taken her seriously. It was only at Anna's insistence that he had taken her to the park at all. Anna had told him that she was lonely and she was feeling badly that none of the boys were taking an interest in her. Pedro felt sorry for Selina and it was out of pity that he had taken an interest in her.
But now, as he stood gaping at her smooth white body, he was amazed. He hadn't realized how beautiful she was. She was like a pearl, lost on a sandy beach. He had always passed her by. And now, staring at her, he realized what he had been missing. She was a treasure of a girl.
"You're all wet," he said, staring at her bloomers.
"I'm always like that," she answered. "Just seeing a boy makes me go crazy. Just being touched arouses me. I'm very easily aroused. And my pussy always gets wet I can't help it I guess it's just my nature."
Pedro unstrapped Selina's brassiere, caressing her small budding breasts with his experienced hands. He had been with many girls before. Though he was only seventeen he had already tasted the pleasures of life. He had already made love to a great many women. He knew the secrets of their bodies-what they liked. He knew where they liked to be touched. He knew where they liked to be stroked. He knew what would satisfy them.
"Tell me," said Selina nervously, as Pedro's hands slid into her bloomers, squeezing her trembling buttocks, "tell me if all girls are like me. Are they all so easy to seduce? Am I the easiest one? Am I a tramp just like my sisters? Is that why I can't wait for you to stick it inside of me? Is that the reason I want to pull down your pants and suck your cock? Am I a whore?"
Pedro kept silent, not saying anything. He knew better. He knew that it would be suicide to say anything. All women had the same doubts the first time. If he had a peso for every time he had heard the same thing from a young girl then he would be a very rich man.
Instead Pedro pulled down Selina's bloomers, lifting her in his powerful arms, smothering her in a deluge of kisses. Hot exciting kisses. All planted in the right place. A kiss for her lips. Then all around her face, on her eyes, and cheeks, and temples. She wriggled and squirmed in his arms, nuzzling closer and closer to him, as his mouth descended across her body.
A girl's developing breasts are a very sensitive area. Pedro spent a lot of time there, laving her nipples with his adroit tongue.
"Augghhh ..." she cooed, closing her eyes.
Pedro was satisfied with himself. Everything was proceeding just right. Slowly his mouth descended across her stomach and down to her young voluptuous tummy. He stared at her belly button and inserted his tongue into it, licking and kissing all around it He could feel his throbbing pulse matching hers. Her heart was beating nervously, excitedly. He could hear it as he placed her on the ground.
Selina's body was as white as alabaster, and just as perfect. It was the most beautiful body in the world. A treasure. A thing of rare beauty.
Pedro's mouth descended on the girl's private areas. His mouth was on the crisp triangle of pubic hair which lay beneath her belly button. He kissed it very gently, very carefully, like an expert surgeon preparing a patient for an important operation. Nothing must go wrong. Nothing would go wrong. Just as long as he followed the correct procedure. Selina was a nymphet a baby filly, young. She would need all the care that he could muster. He would have to be patient with her. She was only fifteen and this was her first time. Just one slip and he would botch the whole job.
Pedro spread the girl's legs carefully, burrowing his head between her legs. He knew that he would have to eat her. He had to loosen her up. There's nothing worse than a girl that's too tight. It can spoil the whole thing.
Before he slipped his cock inside of her he had to be sure that everything was ready. Just the slightest mistake, the slightest miscalculation and he would be out of luck. Pedro knew that and that's why he was so careful, so cautious.
His tongue licked Selina's young, delicious vagina. He licked and kissed the sweet meat of her vagina. Slowly his tongue made penetration. He was inside of her, licking the warm sour tasting cavern. It was like heaven itself. No, it was better than anything he had ever experienced. There could be no comparison to anything. A girl's young body is in a category all by itself, nothing can compare to it Not even heaven itself. Of that Pedro was certain. There was no doubt in his mind.
"I'm ready," Selina whispered.
She couldn't stand it any longer. The boy was tormenting her. Her body was taut and ready to explode, just like a bomb. She wanted to feel his cock inside of her. It was time. The time for appetizers was finished. Selina was ready for the main course. And what a delicious main course it was. Young cock meat, seasoned just right.
Selina winced as Pedro dropped his trousers. She almost screamed when she felt him make the penetration. Her body tightened, gyrating like a wooden top. She breathed in deeply, gasping for air, as she felt the explosion of orgiastic delight mount on her insides. Her clitoris was throbbing, bouncing up and down like a rubber ball. The sweet meat of her labia tingled with sensation, as Pedro's penis slid back and forth inside her.
The exhilarating friction, wrapped itself around her, budding for the moment of final orgasm. Then finally it came. He was shooting off inside of her while her insides were caught in the cataclysm of convulsion. Tremors shook across her body. It was beautiful. It was the most beautiful thing which she had ever experienced. She kissed Pedro's wet penis in appreciation.
But that was so long ago. Though Selina was still a relatively young woman, it seemed like an eon had passed since her childhood. Pedro, her boyfriend and lover had left her, though they were supposed to get married. He had a dream.
"I don't want to be stuck here," he used to say, "like my papa. I don't want to spend the rest of my life in Madrid, picking up nickels and dimes from the American tourists. I want to make something of myself. One day I go to America and I, too, will make something of myself. You'll see. I will be rich."
To Selina this had all been the talk of a young boy trying to impress his girlfriend. Selina never thought he would go.
One day she found a note under her door. He had left.
After Pedro's departure things moved fast There was the courtship, marriage, and the house in West Hartford. Selina wondered where the time all went Just a little while ago she had been a silly young girl, playing with toys, and doing all sorts of nasty baby things. Now she was all grown up, with a husband, and she was still playing games.
Only she wasn't playing children's games any more. She had graduated from dolls. Now she was playing "Adultery." A very tricky, dangerous game. And for a lover she had chosen her husband's brother. That almost smacked of incest.
Selina was wrapped up in her own thought and she hadn't seen the time fly. But it was already nine thirty. John still wasn't home. She was worried. What could have happened to him. Surely he would have called if it was extra office work that was keeping him.
Thousands of things flashed through her head. Maybe he was hurt. A car accident. John was such a fast driver. He might be crippled, lying delirious in some hospital ward. Thousands of possibilities flashed through her mind. She was terrified.
Suddenly the doorbell rang. It was John, her husband. She breathed a sigh of relief.
"Where have you been," she asked, taking his hat.
John stared at her, a twisted smile creeping across his face.
"You're a fine one to ask questions," he roared. "Why don't you tell me where you have been?"
"What do you mean?" whispered Selina. She was as pale as a sheet.
"Lying won't help you," he said. "I know about everything. I've just had a very long chat with my brother Wendell."
Chapter Four
"You're a filthy tart," shouted John viciously. "You couldn't even keep your hands off my own brother. What kind of woman are you?"
Selina was afraid. She had never seen John like this. Normally he was quiet, and not prone to loud and violent outbursts. She would have to calm him down. Unless she did there's no telling what he would do. It wasn't the divorce that bothered her any more, though that was still in the back of her mind. Selina was afraid of something more dangerous, something more tragic. What if he should begin to assault her. John was a terribly jealous man. There was no telling what he might do. He might even try to kill her.
"Please John ..." she pleaded, "You're acting terribly childish. Let's discuss this like two civilized people. After all we're not children any more. We're two grownups so let's talk. I'm sure we can straighten this out."
John started laughing.
"What do you take me for?" he asked. "Some kind of moron or something? What's there to talk about? You put out for my brother. You don't even let me come to bed with you, but with my brother Wendell, you don't mind. You're a shameless little bitch, and I'm sorry I ever married you. That's the biggest mistake I ever made."
"If you want a divorce," started Selina very slowly, "I won't stop you. You have a perfect right to a divorce. I'll admit, I've been far from the perfect wife. But if you give me a second chance, you'll see I'll be good to you. You'll see, I'll change."
Selina was terrified of the prospect of a divorce. It was the last thing in the world that she wanted. Here she was, in America, a foreign land. At least she had a husband to depend and rely on. At least she wasn't all alone. At least she wasn't by herself.
If John ever left her, she didn't know what she would do. She had no education. She couldn't read or write. She wouldn't be able to get any kind of decent job. Without John, Selina was helpless.
She would be turned into a gutter tramp. She would have to sell her body in order to survive. She would have to become a prostitute, just like her sisters.
And that was the one thing that Selina couldn't stand. She would commit suicide first She didn't want to enter a life of vice and degradation. She knew how such girls ended up. By the time they're thirty, a street-walker is all washed up. Their faces grow old, and their bodies dry up. Selina didn't want that kind of future.
"Come on," she said once again, taking John's hand. "Come on and let's talk it over. I'm sure we can patch it all up."
Selina pressed herself against him, guiding his fingers to her soft nubile breasts.
"Please, sweetheart" she whispered, "don't be mad at me I didn't know what I was doing. I promise to be good to you from now on. I'll treat you real good, just like you want me to. All right, sweetums?"
When John had first entered, he had wanted to kill. After what he had seen that afternoon. And now he was all confused. He didn't know what he wanted.
Originally, John had talked to his brother Wendell about his problem with Selina. He didn't want to tell Wendell about his private life, but he couldn't help himself. He had no one else to turn to.
After listening, Wendell suggested that he talk to Selina, and try to find out what was bothering her. Why did she refuse to allow John into her bedroom.
"All I have to do is talk to her," Wendell had said. "I have a way with women I'll get to the bottom of it, and straighten it all out"
John agreed to this plan, with reluctance. He was afraid Selina would be angry with him for airing their dirty laundry in public. He never expected what occurred. Never, in a million years, did he suspect that his own wife would cheat on him. It never even entered his imagination.
Wendell said that he was meeting Selina at two o'clock. John figured that the meeting would only last an hour. So at about three, he took off from work, and drove over to Wendell's apartment He wanted to talk with Wendell, and find out what had occurred.
He was greeted by a most shattering scene. He watched from his car, as Wendell led Selina, up the stairs, to the house. They had just emerged from a cab, and she was kissing and hugging him, pressing herself against him wickedly.
John waited and waited, in his car, for the two of them to re-emerge. It was six-thirty when Selina left Wendell's apartment John didn't know what to think. He suspected that Selina had been seduced. He knew about his brother's reputation with women.
"I thought," said John, staring at Selina, who sat across from him in the living room, "that it was Wendell's fault I thought that he was the one responsible for what had happened. So, after you left the apartment I went up, to have it out with him, man to man. I even had a knife prepared. I was going to kill him. But what could I say, after hearing what he told me. He said that it was all your fault. That you had asked to come up to his apartment for talk, and that after five minutes of talking, you stripped naked and flung yourself against him. He said that it was all your fault He said I should get rid of you. You're no good."
"He's a bastard liar," snarled Selina. "I didn't want to go to bed with him. He forced me. It was all his fault. He forced me to come up to his place. He practically raped me. He said that if I didn't go down for him, he would beat me black and blue. I was afraid of him. Honest I was afraid of what he would do to me."
John scratched his head incredulously. He didn't know who to believe anymore. Nothing made any sense to him. Who was the bar? Who was telling the truth? Maybe they were both liars? There were so many questions in John's head that he was going batty. He was going out of his mind.
Should he believe Wendell's version of what had happened or his wife's?
John chose to believe his wife for various reasons. He now had a hold on her. From now on she would accede to his wishes. From now on she would do as he commanded. It would be just like it had been in the beginning. When John had married her-those were the happiest days of his life. He often thought about them and wished that things could have remained like that.
"Don't worry," Selina assured him, "things will be better. I'll be the best wife any man has ever had. You'll see. I'll give you such pleasure that you'll never regret you're decision. You'll never regret having given me a second chance."
Chapter Five
Still, John's jealousy did not subside. She had cheated once, she would cheat again. John was like a man possessed. He was like a madman. Every evening, he kept grilling her, asking her again and again what she had done during that day.
"I was all by myself," Selina had protested on one such occasion. "I haven't seen a man in God knows how long. Why must you keep tormenting me like this? What happened with Wendell should be gone and forgotten with. It was so long ago when it happened. It was in December. Now it's already July. Aren't you ever going to forget?"
"No," said John, like a vicious dog. "I may forgive you, but I'll never forget. You cheated on me. I can never forget something like that How can I ever trust you again?"
Though Selina had become a perfect wife after that incident she could not please John. Lately he had taken to drinking and staying out late. When she asked him where he was he told her to fuck herself.
"It's none of your goddamn business," he said. "You cock-sucking bitch. I'll come and go as I please, and you'll just mind your own business. Dig?"
Selina was speechless. It was a very hot July evening. She stood in her negligee, and she was utterly speechless. What could she say. What could she tell her husband to make him forget that incident? How could she placate him?
Suddenly his powerful hand was upon her. He slapped her across the face viciously. Again and again, he kept beating her pretty white face.
"I should have done this to you a long time ago," he said. "You're a harlot and you have to be punished. You have to be chastised for your sins."
He lilted his knee and kicked her in the belly. Selina fell to the floor. She was bleeding from a cut under her lip, crying loudly, as her husband thrashed her. Suddenly he grabbed a leather belt from the hall closet Selina was in tears, as he ripped the soft white negligee from her body. She lay on the floor, naked, except for a pair of black, silk panties which her husband had bought her as a present. There was a hole, in the crotch of the panties. John had seen it at a novelty shop in New York, when he had been there the month before on some business. Though she didn't like the panties, John had insisted that she wear them to bed.
"All the whores in New York wear them," he had explained. "It saves them time. This way they don't have to take off their panties, when they're getting laid. All they have to do is lift their dress, squat over, just like a dog, and a guy can stick it right in There's no mess at all."
"When I heard that whores buy them, I got a pair just for you. After all, I can't let my little Selina be undercut by the competition"
"That's not funny," Selina had protested.
"I don't care if it's funny or not," John had said. "I want you to wear those panties, when you go to bed with me. I like them. And from now on you do as I wish, remember?"
"Alright," Selina had said reluctantly. She agreed to follow these insane demands. At least for the time being.
But John had gotten worse and worse. And now she lay on the floor, and he was thrashing her with a leather belt, laughing like a wild man.
Selina tried to get up and run away. She managed to kick him in the groin. John fell to the floor, only to get up a moment later.
"I'll show you," he was screaming. "You filthy whore. I'll show you to kick me in the balls. Wait all I get at you-you'll be sorry you were ever born."
Selina tried to escape, but it was no use. John was mad. She suspected he was drunk. He finally caught her, grabbing her around the waist and carrying her upstairs to their bedroom.
He flung her over his knees, and started spanking her. Treating her like a little child.
First he pulled off her panties, so that her pink buttocks were naked and exposed to his lecherous gaze. There was no escaping, in spite of the extraordinary struggle with which Selina responded. There was no way out.
Selina was cursing under her breath as John's vicious palms came down upon the soft voluptuous flesh of her rump. John kept slapping her backside, at first gently, and then harder.
Selina screamed as she felt his teeth bite into her already aching buttocks. John took a large juicy bite out of her ass. She cried, as he flung her across the floor.
She fell across a night table, and her head struck the sharp protruding edge. In a moment she was unconscious, lost in oblivion.
When Selina awoke she found herself tied to two beams in the basement, her naked body red with welts. John stood over her, like a task master, a whip in one hand, and a knife in the other. He was dressed in leather, wearing a costume which he had bought while on a visit to Germany. He looked vicious, like an apparition. Like the devil himself.
"What are you going to do with me?" asked Selina, mustering all the strength in her body. She was scared. She could never remember being more frightened.
"What are you going to do to me?" she asked once again.
"When I get finished with you," John screamed, "You'll look just like chop-meat. You're own mother won't even recognize you."
"Please," begged Selina. "You're mad. You don't know what you're doing. You're drunk. Why don't you put that whip and knife away. Wait till tomorrow. We'll straighten it all out. Please listen to me."
"Ha-ha-ha," John laughed. "I'm through listening to you. You're a filthy slut. A cheap tramp. You're gutter trash, and when I'm finished, that's where I'm going to sweep you out I'm going to throw you right out into the gutter. Don't think I haven't found out about you. I know all about you and your family. Don't think I don't know that your sisters are all whores. I knew from the beginning. I knew before I married you. But I thought that you would be different I thought you were a decent girl. I thought that if I brought you to America with me that you would feel grateful and be a good wife to me. But what do I find. All I have to do is turn around, and you're fucking my brother."
It was no use to try to reason with him. John had gone beyond that stage. He had cracked his lid. He was a raving lunatic. Selina had seen the transformation taking place, at a slow pace, ever since the incident with Wendell. Something had sent him over the brink. Selina wasn't sure what it was, but she finally realized that, whether she liked it or not, she would become John's sacrifice to his crazed ego. John had been humiliated. Now it was his turn for revenge.
Selina gritted her teeth, as she felt the last burn against her naked buttocks. John brought down the whip with a flaming intensity. With a burning fury. There was no mercy in his eyes, as he slashed against her young, smooth body.
Again and again, Selina could feel the burn and sting of the lash as it ripped across her back, and buttocks. John beat her against her loins, and milky white thighs, without mercy. He smashed her against the breasts, and her satin smooth belly. Such a voluptuous belly. Such a delicate belly. Such a warm, sensual belly.
Selina winced as she felt the large red welts, as they grew on her body, like intense fireballs. Their sting was painful. But at the same time exciting. Salina wasn't sure of the exact moment when the pleasure sensations started. But they were there nevertheless. Selina was enjoying herself, as John beat her. It was a sexual enjoyment.
An intensely pleasurable tingle started in her vagina and then spread itself, like wildfire, across the rest of her pushed himself inside of her. It was that same unmistakable tingle. That same exhilarating friction. It sent a cold shiver down her spine, and a warm excitement to her loins. Her clitoris throbbed. A pleasurable sensation seized her breasts. Her nipples were beginning to erect, like two delicious cherries.
John watched with amusement, as her nipples grew firm. He stopped beating her, watching the metamorphosis. Like the bud of a flower, those ruby red nipples burst open, a testament to the pleasure she was experiencing.
"Just like a whore," said John. "Even while I'm beating you, you can't control the hunger in your flesh. You're a shameless sensualist. You only think about one thing. The only thing you got in that bird brain of yours is ideas of sex. If you want cock so badly, then I'll give it to you. I got a cock that's as big as a snake. You know what it looks like. You want it?"
"Yes ..." Selina nodded. "Yes, I want it."
She wasn't lying. She wasn't only trying to please his vanity. It was true that she wanted it. Standing there, wearing those tight leather pants which he had bought in Germany, John looked better than he ever had. He was more desirable than he had ever been.
She wasn't sure what it was that was causing this insane reaction. She loathed this man, standing in front of her, and she desired him at the same time. What was it about him that suddenly made him so attractive?
In Barcelona, when Selina was a little girl, her father used to beat her mother. Selina never understood why she stood for such treatment.
If I were her, she used to think to herself, I would leave him immediately. If a man ever beats me when I grow up, he sure won't be seeing me for too long.
But now Selina was all grown up, and she was learning why her mother had been so docile. Women like to be beaten. Women enjoy being degraded and humiliated. It's in their nature. They love a man who exercises authority over them. They like to be whipped and badly treated.
Humiliation, as Selina was now learning, serves as a sexual catalyst. It gets the juices running. It sends stimulation to the insides, and unlocks the vast panorama of erotic desire and lust.
Selina suddenly realized what she had found so repulsive in John She suddenly realized why it was such a task to have him next to her. He had always been so kind and gentle. He had always been nice to her. He had always obeyed her wishes. When she didn't feel like having sex, he had always conceded to her demands.
Women don't want docile men. Women don't want men who concede. They want men who'll brutalize them. They want men who'll beat them and whip them. They want men who'll rape them. They want a man who'll force himself upon her.
"All right" said John abruptly. "I'll give you my cock. If you want it so badly, I'll give it to you. I'll let you have it just the way you like it"
He untied her, and carried her trembling body up the stairs, from the cellar to the bedroom.
"Get down on your knees," he commanded.
Selina obeyed without objection. She was eager with anticipation. She could never remember feeling like that She could never remember being filled with so much desire. She could never remember being so wickedly lustful.
But then again, she could never remember when John had been such a man. She could never remember when he had been so masculine. Indeed, he had never been more dominating. Never in all the time that she had known him.
As she got down on her knees, she watched as John unzipped his fly. She smacked her lips at the tantalizing thought. Soon she would be given something to suck. Soon she would take his phallus into her mouth. Soon she would bite into his rock hard cock. Soon ... very soon.
"Do you like it?" asked John, as he held that magnificent creature in his hands. It radiated and sparkled, just like an emerald covered scepter. It was so beautiful, that Selina found that it was impossible to describe it accurately. It was impossible to describe it accurately. It was impossible to describe the pleasure that it would bring. It was such a tantalizing sight. Such a tempting morsel. Selina felt like running towards it and grabbing it between her lips and kissing it fondly and passionately. She restrained herself, however. She didn't want to appear too eager. This would only make John more convinced that she was a slut Somehow, Selina had learned, that American-Puritan ethics teaches men to despise girls who like sex. It's only a whore who's supposed to enjoy sex. Nice girls are supposed to be demure and restrained, and they're not supposed to enjoy themselves.
This, in Selina's way of thinking, was a perverted outlook. It was a sterile outlook. And it was just such an outlook which caused all of the hangups and sexual frustrations experienced by the American male.
Why, Selina wondered to herself, do American men play around with girls who put out, and marry girls who don't. Why do they think that a girl is a tramp, just because she enjoys sex?
That Selina believed, was the basis for John's problem. That was the reason he was so insane with jealousy. So, even though Selina wished to leap at him, and touch him, and feel his touch as it explored the secret passions of her body, she restrained herself. She stood on her knees, her naked body glistening in the moonlight that poured in through the curtains, waiting for John's orders.
"You know what I'm going to do to you?" he asked, drawing near to her, still holding his mammoth phallus with his hands.
"What?" asked Selina.
"You know," he laughed. "First I want you to eat me, they way you ate my brother Wendell. Suck my cock dry. You understand, honey?"
"Yes," nodded Selina. She was only too glad to do his bidding. Nothing could have made her happier.
She got up from her knees, and unbuckled John's leather pants. Slowly, and with delicacy, she took his cock into her mouth, and began to lick at it and suck at it. It was the most tender morsel that she had ever eaten. Such a tender morsel. She couldn't remember ever eating a cock that tasted so terribly delicious.
She quivered with delight as John's hand descended onto her breasts, and towards the thick triangle of hair above her pelvic area. She kept sucking, until she could feel the surge of energy explode in her mouth.
John came in less than five minutes, shooting off inside of her mouth. Selina dutifully swallowed the semen, afraid that if she would spit it out she might inadvertently offend John. He was still a mad man, and she would have to be very careful as to what she did or said. He was still in possession of a knife. There was no telling what he would do. He was liable to explode at any moment
"You liked it?" asked John, apparently satisfied.
"Yes," replied Selina. "You were good. I never thought it would be so good. I never thought it could be so good."
"Fine," said John "If you like it so much, then I have another little surprise for you."
"What?" asked Selina.
"Close your eyes and open your mouth."
Selina complied. It was an unpleasant surprise. John began urinating into her mouth. She coughed and gasped for air.
"You better keep your mouth opened, if you know what's good for you," John warned. "You better remember that I still have a knife on me. If my little bitch of a wife isn't cooperative with me, and if she don't do like I tell her, there's no telling what I could do. Hell, why I might even cut off your two beautiful titties."
John gave out a loud, resounding belly laugh. It was a cruel evil laugh. But its effect was not lost on Selina. She opened her mouth as her husband, John, urinated. She drank it all up as John commanded. Then she kissed his cock.
"Say good night," ordered John. "I'm going to put him into my pants. Say good night to him."
"Good night," stammered Selina. She was a woman dragged down to the lowest depths. John had robbed her of the slightest trace of dignity and self-respect which she still possessed. She swore revenge. She would get even with him.
"Ha-ha," John laughed, collapsing on the bed. In a moment he was sound asleep.
Selina looked at him with a contempt and a loathing which boded like lava. Now was her chance for revenge. She picked up the knife which he had placed on the table. Now she would repay him for his humiliating treatment of her. Now was the time ...
Chapter Six
When John awoke from his slumber, he felt a strange, nauseating sensation tingle in his loins. He remembered only vaguely what he had done the night before. He remembered how he had tied Selina to the beams, down in the cedar, and how he had beaten and tortured her.
What had made him act like that. Now it was all clear to him. Suddenly it was all as clear as daylight. It had been one of those hot July afternoons, and the office had been dismissed early. The air conditioning had broken down. It was too sweaty to work. Everyone left at one.
John, vaguely remembered the events which ensued. He had gotten into his car with the intention of driving straight home. He realized how miserable he had been to Selina. He hadn't been treating her well at all. He constantly picked and grated at her, tormenting her with his insane jealousy.
John had resolved to turn over a new leaf. After all, the affair with Wendell was a thing of the past. It was an unfortunate mistake. Yet if his marriage was to work, it would have to be forgotten.
He would have to forgive Selina. He was certain that she had learned her lesson. He was certain that she would not repeat her mistake once again.
He drove to the florists on Main street in downtown Hartford and ordered a dozen red roses, and a card which read: With all my Love, to my Dearest Wife ... JOHN.
Walking out with the flowers, John happened to have met an old and dear acquaintance, Bill Anderson. They were buddies from school, and they hadn't seen each in ages.
"Jesus," John exclaimed, shaking Bill's hand. "It's really good to see you. You look just like a million."
"You don't look so bad yourself," replied Bill with a grin on his face.
The two of them went down to Maxi's for a couple of drinks and some talk. Bill now had two daughters, one of them entering grammar school. They chatted for about an hour, bantering about trivia.
"Listen," said Bill nervously, staring at his watch. "It's getting kind of late."
It seemed that Bill had been invited to a cocktail party up in Springfield, and he had to leave.
"Why don't you come alone?" he asked. "It's good for a giggle. Booze and broads, and all kinds of other goodies. You'll really enjoy yourself."
John accepted the invitation reluctantly. Bill was an old friend, and he didn't want to disappoint him. Besides, it had been a long time since the two of them had gotten together. Back in the college days they had been real lions. They really used to have wild times in those days.
When John arrived at the party, it turned out to be different than he had expected. Bill had said that it was going to be a Cocktail get-together. All around him, John saw that the people were high on, what he surmised to be, hashish. A pot party. All the people dressed in funny costumes, parading around in the darkly lit, three room flat.
A Chinese girl, wearing a yellow pullover sweater, and a tight fitting purple skirt with a slit up the leg approached John with a cookie. She was a beautiful girl, and he could see that she wasn't wearing a brassiere. Her small, oriental breasts pressed against the sweater, enticingly, like two delicious pieces of fruit.
"Hello," she had said, "I have a peace offering for you."
She handed him some cookies.
"Eat them," she giggled. "Then you can eat me."
John took the oatmeal cookies into his mouth, and chewed them very slowly. They had a sweet, aromatic flavor to them. They were the best cookies he had ever eaten.
In a minute, he was in a daze. Suddenly he found himself running out the door, and into the car, which was parked on the curb across the street He only remembered that his head was spinning. A wild thought had taken hold of him. Suddenly it became important that he drive home to Selina. He suddenly realized what he would have to do. It was like a madman's obsession. Selina would have to be punished for her infidelity.
Lying there on the bed, his eyes red and tired, John began to recollect, what had happened afterwards. He drove like a maniac, almost killing himself twice. He came home and performed the bizarre punishment upon Selina.
It was like a dream to John. He didn't know what he had been doing. It must have been those cookies that he had eaten. Those damn cookies that the Chinese girl had given him. Probably laced with drugs.
John turned over on his side, and a sharp insistent pain arose from his loins. It felt like knife cuts. It was all very painful. He felt very nauseous. He felt like he was going to faint
Suddenly the door pushed open. Selina entered. She was dressed in a purple smock that wrapped itself around her delicious white body. John looked at her face. It was black and blue and covered with puffy red welts. That innocent face, now looked like it had been through a meat grinder. The sparkle and delicacy was gone. It was replaced by a brutal savagery. Her thick, red lips were twisted in anger.
Am I responsible, John thought to himself. Did I beat her so viciously, to make her look like that.
John opened his mouth and tried to talk. But the words wouldn't come out. He couldn't talk. He couldn't even move. And the pain continued to burn. He could never remember feeling so badly. He could never remember being in so much excruciating pain. He gritted his teeth, biting his lips to keep from screaming.
Those damn cookies, he thought to himself. They were responsible for what had happened. Suddenly John remembered that Chinese girl. All dressed up like a whore, a thick swab of red pain on her luscious lips.
She was a strange one, that girl. There was a girl who had been around. You can tell from her lips. Those were experienced lips. The kind of lips that can such a man dry.
John looked back at Selina, and realized that she also possessed lewd, lascivious lips. They were suggestive lips. Just looking at her, a man knows what's in store for him. He need only look to realize what he was getting into.
Why hadn't he realized this before. When he first met her he had considered himself a man of the world, experienced in the ways of life. By contrast, he had pictured Selina as a poor, innocent young maid, in unfortunate circumstances. Why had he been so blind? Why hadn't he realized.
John watched as Selina's hand dropped to her waist. She undid the knot, removing the smock which she wore. She hung it up very carefully, in the closet across the room. John looked at her body. She was naked, except for the black silk panties with the hole at the crotch.
Now he remembered. He had bought those panties for her. I was all part of a very cruel game which he had been playing. It was, indeed, part of a terribly cruel joke. He had been almost inhumanly cruel.
It had been his intention to utterly destroy her. As soon as he learned of her adulterous behavior, he had resolved to destroy her. For the past four months he had gone about this in a psychological way. He had made every attempt to cheapen and degrade her. He continuously called her a whore. He made her dress like a whore. Whenever he went to bed with her he always gave her five dollars.
"That's for you, honey," he would sneer. "Make sure that you do a good job."
At first Selina had ignored him, then she pretended to laugh at it, and finally he had her crying. He was very satisfied with this psychological torture. After all he would rationalize, she deserved it She had cheated on him. She had been unfaithful. She had committed adultery with his brother.
Up until last night he has used words to torment her with. Then under the influence of some sort of drug (he wasn't really sure what it was) his words had exploded into action. He let loose, and did what he had wanted to do from the beginning. Now he regretted it. He shouldn't have beaten her.
He looked at Selina's naked body, as it glistened in the sunlight that was streaming in through the partially drawn blinds.
He looked at the results of his work. She was black and blue all over, red welts and bruises turning purple and green. He remembered. That's where he had beaten her with his whip.
John looked at her breasts. Even with the cuts and bruises, they were two of the most lovely breasts he had ever seen. They were even better looking than the Chinese girl who had given him the cookies, saying, 'Eat them, and you can eat me'.
John felt ashamed of himself, as he looked upon his wife's buttocks. He should never have beaten her. He should never have treated her so cruelly.
The only comfort he took was that in good time all of the bruises would heal. Then Selina would be as good as new. She would look like she had always looked. Like an alabaster love goddess. Like the Venus De Milo. Like the most tempting morsel in the world.
Suddenly, Selina began speaking. She was loud, and there was violence in her voice.
"Look at me, John," she exulted. "Look at what you've done to me. Yet, the bruises on my body cannot compare to the bruises on my mind which has taken you all these months to put there."
Then suddenly, she went into a dance of masturbatory fantasy. John watched as Selina performed a lewd, erotic ballet. She danced around the room, in a lascivious and pornographic manner. John watched as she spread her legs obscenely.
He looked at her pussy. She was displaying it before him, obviously trying to tantalize him. John was unmoved. He wasn't in the least bit aroused. He attributed this lack of response to the drugs which he had taken the night before. It probably was an after effect. He didn't for one moment suspect the truth. He didn't for one moment realize what his wife had done to him. He didn't for one moment think that this state of affairs would be permanent That he would never again be aroused and excited by the sensual delights of a woman's naked body.
John lay on his side, as his wife performed a masturbatory dance. She slowly wriggled out of her panties, tossing them to John to smell. Slowly her hands worked themselves between her legs, and she was massaging her thighs and white hot loins, unashamed and unembarrassed. She was flaunting herself in front of John, who remained frozen on the bed, completely unmoved.
Selina wiggled and shook like a dynamo, all the while, sticking her long female fingers between the outer folds of wet soft flesh which formed the opening to her vagina.
"Look at me," Selina said to John. "Watch me. Do you want to know what I'm doing?"
John nodded.
"I'm masturbating," Selina laughed. "I like to masturbate. I love to masturbate. The only thing that's better than masturbating it getting fucked. I love to get fucked. There isn't a man in the world I wouldn't fuck. After all, " am a whore. Isn't that what you keep telling me?"
"Day in and day out you kept telling me that I was a cheap gutter slut Well, you may be right In fact, you are right I'm a whore, and I'm going to practice my profession from now on. From now on I'm going to act like a whore. There won't be a man who can't get me. All he has to do is ask me, and I'll lift my dress and drop my bloomers for him."
John was shocked. He didn't believe what he was hearing. Had Selina cracked up? Had she finally gone mad? John watched as she ran out of the room and down the stairs. He wondered where she was going.
She returned in a couple of moments, with a handful of long, orange carrots. She began to insert the vegetables into her pubis, wiggling and shaking obscenely. Her eyes were closed and she was lost in the delicious delirium of auto-erotic excitement. She was wrapped up in the reverie of masturbatory fantasy.
John stared at her body. It glistened with sweat It heaved and rocked. She had reached her climax. She had attained her orgasm. And the instrument of her pleasure was a carrot
"Look at the carrot," she said gleefully. "It's all wet with the juice of my pussy."
She threw it to him.
"You better keep a large supply of these carrots around from now on," she said. "Especially if you want your little sweetheart to be satisfied. I don't think you'll ever be able to satisfy me anymore. You'll never be able to satisfy any woman anymore, my dear John You see John, you're a eunuch."
John laughed. He thought that she was joking. Selina really had a sense of humor. But she wasn't joking. She was dead serious. The night before, while he was asleep in a drunken stupor, Selina had gotten her revenge. With a few deft slits, she had cut off his balls. She used the same knife that he had used while torturing her. With that same knife she had castrated him. He was now, no longer a man.
From now on he would remain a shadow of a man-an impotent eunuch.
Chapter Seven
John's first reaction to his lamentable state was a profound and shocking disbelief. This couldn't have happened to him. He had great difficulty in accepting and assimilating the fact of his castration. It was a normal reaction. Anyone else would have acted the same. It is, indeed, not easy to accept the loss of one's virility.
But with the passing of time, it is said, all wounds heal. And this is precisely what happened to John. After a month they physical wounds disappeared. It took a little longer for the psychological effects to diminish.
But eventually John's initial panic and shock, changed into a more philosophical attitude. After all, he reasoned, to be a eunuch is not the worst thing in the world. A more terrible thing might have happened. He might have been killed. He might have been struck down by some incurable disease. Thousands of more horrible things might have happened.
But they didn't. And for this he was grateful. He was grateful that he still had a comfortable home, a sizable bank account, a secure, if somewhat boring job, and exceptionally good health.
True, he no longer had the sex drive, and he no longer experienced the exhilaration of orgasm. True, the touch of a young girl's snowy white hands no longer excited him. True, he no longer lusted after the female of the species, but, if one were to be objective about the situation, one could easily recognize that this was a blessing in disguise.
While other men chased after lust, and experienced only frustration and anger, John was now able to lead a calm and tranquil existence. He no longer was a slave of his animal passions. He no longer turned around in the streets to look after the young girls dressed in their tight fitting summer dresses. He was totally indifferent to their feminine wiles and charms. They were no longer complicating his life.
For this John was indeed grateful. And he was grateful for one other thing. For Selina. He was very pleased that she remained with him.
At first, of course, John wanted to kill the bitch who was responsible for his undoing. But, by and by, he recognized the impracticability of this solution. If he killed her, he no doubt would be acquitted by a jury. She, after all, had subjected him to the most extreme provocation. Any decent, law-abiding jury would readily accept that the bitch deserved killing.
But to kill Selina would subject him to unwanted notoriety and publicity. John wanted only peace and tranquility. He had no desire to be thrust into the limelight of newspaper interviews, and press photographs.
He therefore rejected homicide as a solution. There was another way to get even with Selina. There was another, more practical way. John was determined to continue with the process which he had begun after learning of her infidelity. He would continue to degrade and humiliate her. He would continue to challenge, and eventually to destroy her sanity. He would turn her into a beast He would turn her into a wild animal. John knew enough about psychology to feel competent for this rather challenging task.
But in order to effect this metamorphosis, he would have to keep Selina with him. He would have to keep Selina from leaving him and getting a divorce. He had no difficulty with this phase of the program. Selina was more than willing to stay. It was clear to her that she had no place else to go. She had no way to support herself decently. In order to live she would have to resort to prostitution, a profession for which she felt contempt and loathing. She would prefer starvation to prostitution. Anything was better, in her point of view.
When John agreed to keep her on as his wife, however, she was thankful that she no longer had to make the awful and dreaded move into the streets. Though she was, of course, surprised when he said he still loved her and that he didn't want her to leave, she was very pleased.
"I promise I'll be a good wife to you," she exclaimed with tears in her eyes. "You'll see, John, I'll be the best wife any man has ever had. I'll do anything in the whole wide world that you want me to do."
"Anything?" John had asked incredulously, in a somewhat mocking and sarcastic tone. "Do you really mean that you'll do anything I want?"
"Of course, my darling," she nodded.
It was late at night, in the second week in September, and a little rain was beginning to fall outside. It soon started coming down in buckets. They sky blazed with lightning and shouted with thunder. John ran to close the window. It was starting to rain in.
"Well," he said, returning to Selina, "You know it will be hard to forgive you for what you did to me two weeks ago."
"I know," Selina nodded. "But I'll make every effort to make it all up to you. You can treat me like a slave. You can do anything you want to me. If you want to whip me you may. You can tie me down, and strip me naked and lash my body with all your might ... I won't complain"
Secretly, Selina enjoyed this treatment. It stimulated her. It aroused her sexuality. It gave her pleasure. She therefore would not object if John were to punish her in this fashion.
John, who was sitting across from her, was dressed in a pair of black corduroy pants, and a white tee shirt Selina was adorned in a long, slithery pajama suit which clung tightly to the excitement of her voluptuous and sensual body.
John viewed her curiously, and with a certain amount of interest. In the old days, there would have been only one thing on his mind: fucking. He would have been interested in fondling her body and in making love to her. Now he stared at his wife with the impartiality of an alien. He looked at her the way a man looks at any animal. He was mildly interested in her. But only from an intellectual point of view. There was no lust in his eyes. There was no passion in his genitals.
"I expect you to comply with my every demand," he suddenly said. "If you intend to remain with me, and if you intend to live in my house and off my earnings, I expect total obedience. Before my unfortunate accident you had something to offer me. Now I am no longer interested in your body. I am only interested that you serve me well. You will treat me as your master. I will treat you as my slave, and I will do with you as it pleases me."
"Of course," Selina nodded. "I could expect no more."
She was a little afraid of him, but she had no other choice. He had the upper hand. She would have to bide her time. In the meanwhile, she would concede to his demands.
"Of course," she said, "Of course I will obey you. You are my master and I am your unworthy servant. You may treat me as you wish. I will not complain. I have no right to expect anything else. I am not deserving of better."
"Well," smiled John, an evil twist to his voice. "Now we have made a start. I think, my dear, with the passing of time, you will make a most excellent companion. With the proper training we can do wonders for you. With just a little time, who knows what can happen. I may even become potent again. Who knows?"
Suddenly his smile burst into a torrent of laughter. Soon Selina joined him and they were both laughing uncontrollably, violently.
"Now," said John, after the mirth had subsided, "We can get down to business. Being that you are my slave, I feel it is my duty to inspect you. I want to look you over to make sure that you are in perfect health. So please strip down, so that I may proceed."
"Is this really necessary," asked Selina. She was beginning to feel like a slab of meat, and this feeling annoyed and irritated her.
"Of course it's necessary," repeated John. "Anything I demand of you is necessary. After all, as your mate, I am only concerned with your well being. I wouldn't do anything that would do you any harm. You should know this by now. I only have your best interests at heart. So, if you will proceed, this thing can be finished as rapidly as possible."
"Alright," nodded Selina, somewhat reluctantly. "I'll strip naked and you can conduct your inspection. Please don't hurt me."
With these words, Selina began to unzip the back of her slinky pajama suit. She let the sensual outfit drop to the floor, and she stood naked before John's intense gaze, wearing only a pink half-bra and a pair of slithery black silk panties. They clung tightly to her buttocks and crotch, and John could see the triangle of crisp pubic hairs that stood out clearly against these transparent undergarments which Selina was wearing.
"You look just like a whore," John laughed, sliding his hand down the girls back and underneath her buttocks. He squeezed her softy, caressing the fleshy rump. At another time, this act might have inflamed him with passion. At another time, he might have been seduced by Selina's sensual body. But now he stood cold and indifferent. He might have been touching the rump of a cow or of a horse. It was all the same to him. Flesh was flesh. There was no sexual connotation which he derived from it. None whatsoever. Here merely stood, amused.
Slowly his hands undid the straps to Selina's brassiere. Then they fell across her breasts, stroking them delicately, even passionately. They were such soft, delightful breasts. Like the skin of a fawn. They glowed in the neon light radiantly. John was very pleased with them. They couldn't have pleased him more.
He slowly began to massage her pink nipples. He watched curiously as they stiffened and rose. They looked like round, luscious cherries. They looked so inviting, as though they wished to be eaten.
"I like your breasts," John said slowly. "Not many women have breasts like yours. You should be very proud of them;"
"I am," said Selina. "I am very proud of them. I like it when a man touches them, and massages them. It makes me feel warm and good on the inside. It makes me want to lie down and curl up on the rug."
"You're just like a bitch I once had," said John. "She loved it when I used to pet and stroke her. Do you like it when men pet you?"
"Yes," said Selina. It was the truth. There was no use denying it. She was, after all, a normal woman. And what woman doesn't like to be touched and embraced? What woman isn't excited by the exhilarating friction of a man's hand as it runs across her naked body?
"Yes," Selina repeated once again. "I like to be petted. I like the sexual stimulation it brings me. After all, I'm normal. My appetite for sex is natural and healthy, just like any other normal, red-blooded girl. It's only normal for a woman to get the hots for a man's cock."
"Of course," agreed John. "Of course, my dear. There's no need for you to get defensive about the matter. I know that all women like to fuck. I know that it gives them pleasure to put a man's cock in the cunts. I know all that So, you see, you needn't explain yourself to me."
John then proceeded with his inspection of Selina, ripping off her sheer black panties. Now she stood naked in front of him, her flesh trembling in fear.
What will he do to me now, Selina wondered, as John began to pinch and squeeze her unfettered, and yielding body. She offered him no resistance. She merely closed her eyes and winced, as John's hands wandered across her nakedness.
He made her sit down on the bed, and spread her legs obscenely, so that her delicious genitalia were exposed to his insistent gaze. Her vagina was raw red, and just a little bit wet with libidinal sweat. It was a most tempting dish, a meal for a gourmet. Under normal circumstances John would have fallen to his knees, just like a dog, licking up his wife's juicy, red pubis.
But now he merely stared at it indifferently. It made no impression upon him. It was merely an object of curiosity. What did men find so pleasing about the sticky wet cavern which was the basis for a woman's sexuality? What could be so exciting about her red clitoris, or the warm, flesh-like labia which was around the entrance to the vagina? John couldn't understand it. Is this pussy the thing that drives men wild. Is this hair covered orifice the cause for all the madness which surrounds the relationship between male and female? If it was, then John couldn't understand it Viewed from a truly objective viewpoint, the female's genitalia are less than extraordinary, and yet ...
"And yet" John started saying out loud, "If a man were to look at your body the way I'm looking at it now, he would be driven absolutely mad. He would be driven out of his mind. I simply cannot understand it at all. Not at all ..."
John then went to the closet and got out a camera.
"You're not going to take pictures of me like this," said Selina indignantly. She closed her legs, so that John could no longer glimpse her vagina, and her hands were upon her breasts, covering her hippies protectively. She was like a woman who had just discovered that she was being watched by a peeping torn. She was desperately trying to cover her nakedness.
"Well," she asked again of John, who had just completed clicking his first photo.
"You're not going to take pictures of me like this?"
"Uh-huh." nodded John. "I am. I think they'll be kind of good for a giggle. Do you realize that when someone asks me what my wife looks like, I haven't a single photo to show them. It's about time things changed. After all, you've got a lot to show. And I am sure that they'll be very interested in seeing it all. So if you don't mind, please spread so I can take a decent shot of your pussy."
Selina complied. What else could she do? She saw no way out of her terrible plight. She would have to take the madman's orders. At least until something else turned up.
John was appreciative of her obedience. He took a whole slew of pictures, photographing Selina from a dozen different angles, and a dozen different poses. He took shots of her fingering herself. He took a shot of her masturbating. He took one of her sitting on the toilet bowl, wiping herself.
He made her put on a dress, then, ordering her to lift it he took an erotic shot of her pussy. All counted, he took two dozen shots of her, in the most contorted positions he could imagine.
"This is the last one," he said to Selina who was running out of patience. "I promise this will be the last one."
After saying this, John opened up his zipper and pulled out his cock. It was a shadow of its former self. It was small and all shriveled up, like a tiny worm.
"Look at it," said John, "Remember when it was big as a tree. I recall a time when all I had to do was touch your tit and my cock would erect Just looking at you would give me a boner."
"But now," he said with a sigh, "Now, there's nothing."
John began to undress, removing his pants, jockey shorts, and tee shirt. Selina looked at his naked body. Everything was still the same. He was still hard and muscular. Then she looked down at his crotch. She looked at his genitals. The sac from which his testicles once hung, was now empty. She had done this. She had disemboweled him. She had castrated him. She was the one who had created this eunuch.
She watched as he walked across the room, and cocked the shutter to the camera, putting it on automatic. He then returned where Selina was standing.
"Come over here," he ordered. "I want you to kiss my cock."
"You're not going to take a picture of that!?" she asked with disbelief in her voice. "Surely you won't take a picture of that"
"You're goddamn right, that I will," he roared, "So get the hell over here and kiss my cock."
She obeyed. The shutter clicked. The picture was now recorded for all posterity.
"Just one more," he said, resetting the camera.
"But," protested Selina, "You said that that one would be the last."
"Well," he replied, "I was mistaken. I have just one more picture to take."
"Please," she pleaded. "Can't we do it some other time. I've had it up to here with taking pictures. I want to go to sleep."
"I'm sorry, honey," he intoned. "But I've gotta take just one more. I promise that this one will be the last alright?"
"Well," Selina said reluctantly. "I guess you can take one more picture of me, if you promise that it'll be the last one."
The truth of the matter was that Selina was thrilled at the idea of being photographed naked. Like most healthy young women, she was an exhibitionist. She was sexually stimulated when men looked at her lustfully. She had often left the window shades to her bedroom open, so that old mister Barton, a lawyer who lived next door, could watch her as she did her morning exercises. Once, while Barton was watching her, Selina had masturbated with her fingers. She didn't mind that he was looking. It only heightened her pleasure. It only made the physical act of auto-erotic stimulation more titillating.
The pictures that John was taking had the same effect on her. She secretly wished that he would show those pictures to his friends. She secretly wished that the whole world could gaze upon her nudity. That would be the greatest thrill of all. That would be the greatest pleasure in the world.
She imagined her picture appearing in the centerfold of a magazine like playboy. Selina knew what men who bought those pornographic magazines did. When they went home they would lock their doors, and draw their blinds. Then while staring at the titillating photograph they would manipulate their genitals. With nimble fingers they manipulated their genitals. All the time they kept looking at the girl in the picture and dreaming about her.
Selina was thrilled by the thought. Her vagina was becoming wet with pussy juice. She was sexually stimulated. She was erotically aroused. The sweetest thing in the world would be to be desired by every man. How good it would be to have all the men in the universe stare at her with lust. It would be as good as an orgasm.
"Cut the daydream," John suddenly said, interrupting Selina's secret thoughts. "We've got one last shot."
With the camera on the bureau, across the room, set to take a picture automatically, John took a basin from the bathroom, and pissed into it.
"Now drink it up," he ordered, as the hot yellow urine came flowing from his penis. "Drink from the fount."
Selina braced herself. Her back tightened. She didn't want to do this perverted act. But she had to. She had to comply with John's crazy demands. She got down on her knees, shuddering. The flesh on her voluptuous body was quaking with anger. She opened her mouth, and closed her eyes. She was trembling as the first yellow squirt of John's urine came barreling into her mouth.
"Smile," he said. "You're on candid camera."
Chapter Eight
After the loss of his virility, it seemed that John's attitude toward his work, and toward his company underwent a remarkable transformation. Whereas, before the 'accident', John had no interest at all in the work he was going. He now seemed to have acquired a genuine concern. He suddenly became terribly ambitious.
He would no longer be satisfied with a desk job that offered no promotion. John was determined to rise to the top of his company. Maybe even to the presidency.
What had caused this dramatic spark of ambition is not hard to pinpoint. Until his castration, all of John's creative energies were turned toward the sex urge. With that urge gone, they sought a new outlet.
John suddenly became desperately concerned with success. He was determined not to end up like the others who worked with him. After twenty-five years they give you a gold watch and a farewell party and they send you to those Florida 'old age' villages where you're supposed to die.
No, this wasn't what John had in mind as a future. He wouldn't settle for such a gloomy prospect. What he wanted was no less than complete control of the affairs of Mutual of Hartford. Until now, it had been his brother Wendell who had gotten all the promotions and advances. Until now it had been Wendell who made the policy of the company. It was due to Wendell's influence that he had gotten the job at all.
Now it would all change. John wanted power. He would attain it, the way most successful people attained it. He would fight hard and he would fight dirty. That's the only way to get anywhere in this world. Nice guys finish last, and the guy's who let others made the decisions finish last Until now John had been just like that He just floated around, being steered in whatever direction the wind blew. That would have to change. He would now set his own course, and he would steer relentlessly in direction.
John, who was deputy manager of sales and discounts was nothing more than a glorified, over paid office clerk. It was Wendell's influence which helped him to maintain his position. Many people complained that he was unqualified. They said that he seemed unconcerned about the affairs of the company. He appeared indifferent He had no ambition. 'Old Man' Simon, the president would just as soon have placed someone else in that position.
"He's the last one to come to work," he had once said to Wendell at a private conference. "He's the last one to come to the office, and he's the first one to leave. We're not playing games. This is business. If he can't handle his share there are others who would gladly take it over from him."
Wendell had promised Simon that John would be more prompt And John held on the job. But now ...
John no longer needed Wendell to bail him out. John no longer made mistakes of any magnitude. John was rapidly becoming the rage of the office. The people working under him were nicknaming him 'the tyrant'. He tolerated no errors. He tolerated none of the laziness for which his department gained notoriety.
"There'll be no goofing off anymore," he warned in a stern, unflinching tone. "The first time I see anyone giving this job anything less than everything he has, a few heads will roll. I'm running a tight ship here. This is going to be the smoothest and best run department in the whole company."
Apparently this talk obtained the desired results. Whereas previously, his department had made the greatest number of errors, and appeared to have no interest in their work, they now worked with great enthusiasm. His men were staying overtime, and they were always the first ones to report. This made a very favorable impression on the 'Old Man', who was constantly talking about the remarkable transformation which had taken place in 'that boy, John'.
"It's like a miracle," he said. "He's not the same man he was six months ago. He works like a whirlwind. He's certainly a boy with a future. There's no telling how far he'll go."
But John knew that in business it's not always the hard worker who gets ahead. He knew many men who sacrificed themselves for the company, only to be rewarded with some obscure medal. This wasn't the type of success which John sought. What he was looking for was the success which brings power. Power was an end in itself. Power had the same effect upon him that women did. Power intoxicated him with sensual pleasure. It inebriated him, and goaded him onward. Power was the thing to get.
In business, it's terribly important to influence one's superiors by social means. One has to belong to the right country clubs, and play the right sports, and mix with the right crowd.
John, therefore joined the West Simsbury Country Club (a club to which 'Old Man Simon' belonged) and he took up golf in spite of his dislike for the sport. He did all these things, namely because they were the right things to do for a man on his way up to the top.
But John was impatient Things weren't happening fast enough. He was earning promotions, but not at the speed which he desired.
It was already four years after the accident. John had become Divisional head of the computer department It was now time, he decided, to use Selina in his battle for success. There was an opening for Vice President and, though he was not next in line for the appointment, he had a curious scheme which he was certain would work. He thought back to the time of his castration. He had taken some photographs of Selina. Though he had never used them, he had them hidden away. For some reason he hadn't destroyed them.
Looking at them, now, almost four years after they had been taken, he could see that Selina had changed very little. She still looked just as beautiful, and just as desirable.
The relationship between his wife and himself had completely changed. He no longer plagued her or tormented her. A lasting, and stable, peace had settled between them. She was no longer so important to him. He no longer punished her. She had, by now, become a decorative fixture in the life of a busy and highly successful executive.
She went to the best parties with him, joined the best women's social clubs, and served as an impeccable hostess.
Selina conducted herself in the finest of taste, afraid that a single error on her part would result in difficulty for John. By now, she was devoted to the success of her husband. Though she no longer loved him, she had a grudging respect for his work achievements. He was now earning better than forty five thousand dollars a year, he was a respected member of the community, with people always hounding him to join various causes for which they were fighting. She indeed, had every reason to be proud of him.
Now, as he came home from work, on that cold February evening, he greeted her with his familiar kiss on the cheek.
"Hi, honey," she said. "How was your day at the office?"
"Pretty good," he answered. "There's an opening for vice-president. Cranston resigned to join another company. I think I might be able to swing it with a little bit of luck."
Though John was already planning to use Selina in his attempt to get the position, he was not yet ready to disclose his scheme to her.
After finished supper, and doing some work he had brought home from the office, John was ready for bed. "Coming?" he asked Selina.
She nodded, rushing into his arms. She knew what he had in mind. It was Thursday, her night for pleasure.
John knew, that unless he kept Selina satisfied at home, she would go wandering all around the place in search of boys and young men. John knew that it was in a woman's nature to seek sexual satisfaction. She cannot survive without excitement which only a man can bring.
John, decided, therefore, that he would have to keep Selina happy. Even though the sex urge no longer bothered him, he would have to devote a little of his spare time to satisfy his hot, little wife. Selina, he had learned, was a hot little bitch, and she needed sex almost every night.
John, therefore, who was still a man, with a man's hands, and a man's mouth, developed a curious way to keep his wife out of mischief. On Sunday, Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday, he had his own form of sexual relationship with her. He knew enough of the woman's body to realize that one does not necessarily need a penis to give them pleasure. There are numerous other techniques which are just as effective.
Carrying Selina up to their bedroom, he could feel the pulse in her body quicken, beating at a rapid pace. She was eager with anticipation. It was her night for pleasure. It was her night for sex.
Throwing her onto the bed, John tied her hands and feet to the bedposts. Selina moaned softy. She knew what would come next. Soon would come that long sought relief from all the tensions of the day. Such delightful pleasure. Such supreme ecstasy. Her muscles were tingling with excitement. The game would soon begin.
John, for his part was totally indifferent to his task, though he feigned enthusiasm. He knew that women like for men to be involved in what they are doing. He knew, that in order to keep Salina from hopping around from one man to the next, he would have to convince her that he was truly interested and involved in his work.
He looked at her, this beautiful girl whom he had married, with a curious glance. She was wearing an orange corduroy miniskirt under which she word purple leotards. A slinky, purple blouse clung to her sensual bosom. She was, indeed, a delectable figure. Any man would have been inflamed by unyielding passion. John, really didn't care.
"Tonight," he said, in a voice that feigned enthusiasm, "We will play mother and son."
"Yes," Selina nodded. "I like that game a lot I love that game. We should play that more often."
"We will, my dear," he replied assuringly.
The game then began. The situation was simple. John comes home to find his mother Selina all tied up to the bed.
"What happened to you?" he said, bursting into the room. "What happened to you, mother dear?"
"It was awful," answered Selina. "Five big black men, just raped me. They tied me down to the bed and they spread my legs apart, and they stuck their cocks inside of me. They had such big ones. One of them had a cock that was over twelve inches long. I never had so much pleasure in my life."
"Then why are you crying, mother?" asked John.
"I'm crying," she said, "because they went away and didn't let me suck them off. I love to suck big, black cock. There's nothing in this whole world that's better."
"What you're saying," said John "is sinful. If dad ever heard you say that, he would be very displeased. He would be very angry."
"Fuck you're father," said Selina. "Let's talk about you and me. Even after those five black studs, I still feel horny. I still want it I can never get enough. I just love to suck and fuck and get fingered and everything that gives me pleasure. I guess I'm like most normal, healthy women. We just were made for sex. We can never get enough."
"Do you like to masturbate?" asked John
"I love it," was the reply. "I'm like all women, in that respect. There isn't a woman in the world who doesn't love to masturbate. Sometimes I like masturbating better than I like fucking."
"How do you masturbate?" asked John, curiously.
"Like all women," answered sweet Selina. "Sometimes I stick my finger in my pussy and I keep massaging until I come. At other times I use carrots or hot dogs or soda pop bottles. I use anything that I can find that's big and long. When corn is in season I use that. There ain't no man who can come close to a corncob. I've never seen a single cock that can compare."
John bent down to look up Selina's skirt. Her legs were spread obscenely and he could see that she was wetting through her leotards. The spot right near her crotch was dark purple, much darker than the surrounding area.
"Stop that" said Selina. "You're acting like a naughty little boy. Of all the nerve. You should be ashamed of yourself. If ain't right to go looking up your momma's skirt."
"But I was just looking at your pussy," smiled John. "I was just inspecting your pussy. I wanted to make sure it was all in good condition."
"Then why don't you undress me," said Selina. "Then you can look at my pussy up close and see if those tasty men with their big cocks did anything to it. Their cocks were so big that I was afraid they wouldn't fit inside."
"There ain't nothing too big for you," said John
"You got the biggest hole I ever did see. I bet you could fuck an elephant, and there would still be room left over for someone else."
"That ain't true," said Selina. "I'm very narrow hipped and that's why I got a small pussy. If you don't believe me, son, then why don't you strip me and look it over. Then you can see for yourself."
John, giggling nervously, proceeded to undress Selina. With one tug at the flimsy skirt, he ripped it off. Then he carefully unrolled the girl's leotards, lifting up her buttocks and pulled them down, past her thighs and calves to her lily white ankles. He stared at the panties she was wearing. Delicious white cotton panties, embroidered with the words: EAT ME. Those words ran perpendicular to her crotch, which was soaking wet with pussy juice.
John ripped off the enticing undergarments, throwing them across the room. He then stuck his finger into Selina's vagina. He was measuring to see how big it was. He stuck in three fingers, and by the time he was ready to stick the fourth one into the sweet pubic lips, she screamed.
"It hurts," she cried. "Stop it. You can only fit three. It hurts when you put in four fingers."
"It's going to hurt you even more, in a second," laughed John. "I'm going to whip your hot little ass until its black and blue. You know I don't like it when you fuck with colored bucks. You've gotta be punished for putting out to them."
Selina was titillated with excitement. She had told John that she liked to be whipped, and now he did it often. It served as foreplay. It armed her up. It made her feel so hot and excited that she would sometimes come even while he was beating her. It was extremely pleasurable. It was almost as pleasurable as getting laid.
John took a special bull whip which he bought especially for this occasion, and he began to test it by flicking it in the air. It sounded good.
Now he unbuttoned Selina's blouse, removed her bra and turned her over on her belly, so that her buttocks were facing him, shining like candles in the night.
Then he started with the beating. Across the back. Across her ass, and thighs. He whipped her on her sides and fleshy belly. He kept hitting as she moaned pleasurably.
"Oooooohhhh ..." she gasped erotically.
The whip rained down upon her with anger, touching the secret parts of her body with ferocious intensity. It was like a man was touching her. The pain was delightful. It exhilarated her, and filled her loins with excitement. It was so, so good.
"Ooooohhh ..." she gasped once again as John walked over to the closet to hang up the whip. The beating was over. It was now time for love-making.
John slipped off the tight leather pants which he was wearing, leaving them on the floor along with his jock strop and navy blue underwear. His penis was limp, hanging over an empty scrotum.
Selina watched as he tied the dildo around his waist He now used this specially made phallic object in his lovemaking. To Selina it felt just like the real thing. It was just as soft and as warm as a real penis. It brought just as much pleasure when it was inserted. It brought so much pleasure that Selina often had trouble distinguishing between the real cock and the imitation.
"It's amazing what you can do with plastics," John had said. "It's really amazing."
Selina got down on all fours, on the carpeted floor. She looked just like a dog.
"Fuck me," she screamed. "I can't wait any longer. I want to get laid. I'm burning up on the inside. I gotta get laid, my love."
John mounted her just like a dog, inserting his plastic dildo between the folds of her wet, juicy vaginal lips. It slid in with no difficulty. Salina was well lubricated.
He kept pumping back and forth, rubbing her breasts with his fingers. He massaged and manipulated them with extreme care. He was a very good lover, in spite of his 'condition'.
The dildo was very good to Selina. Sometimes she thought it was better to her than a real cock. With a dildo there was no fear of premature ejaculation. Once in a while, John, when he was still normal, would spill his seed even before he stuck it in. He used to reach his climax just by looking at her naked body.
Now there was no such problems any more. When he was normal John had only one desire. He was only interested in his own satisfaction. He shot his load, and that was it All he wanted to do was to get his rocks off. Now, with the dildo, he kept pumping away until she was happy. He kept moving inside of her until she reached her orgasm. With the dildo there was no fear that he would grow soft too soon. The dildo was always hard and it never went down. It was always hard and erect It never ceased in its task It was always reliable.
Selina moaned as John kept pumping. She could feel herself approaching that sacred moment. She could feel a rush of warmth rise in her belly. It felt so very delightful that she was tingling. Every fibre in her body was filled with excitement. Soon, very soon, the sacred moment would come.
"I'm coming," she gasped. "Hole me, John, I'm coming."
In a moment the fire of orgasm streaked across her body like a bolt of electricity. She curled up just like an animal. John took her in his arms and lifted her into the bed. She clung to him, the dildo still inserted in her vagina.
"Tell me that you love me," she cried.
"Of course I do," he smiled.
He was glad at her satisfaction. He was glad that he could bring her happiness. Tomorrow he would need her. He would use her in his quest for power. If everything went according to plan he would be the Vice-President.
He smiled at this clever turn of phrase.
"Promise me," he said to her before going to sleep. "That you will do as I tell you."
"I promise," said Selina.
He closed his eyes and soon he was asleep, dreams of power sparkling in his eyes.
Chapter Ten
'Old Man' Simons was the founding father of Mutual of Hartford, an insurance company which had grown to a billion dollar concern. He built it up from scratch, with the sweat of his hands, and he gave all of his strength and power to the management of the company. When he had to make it into a public corporation he was a little sad. He had always had in mind to keep it a small, family concern.
But things moved too quickly, and they got out of control. The company grew too big too soon. There was no choice but to go public. On that day, when the first shares were traded on the stock market in New York City, Simons cried like a baby. It was a truly shocking blow to him.
He never really recovered from it. This was then followed by several tragic events which completely destroyed him. His wife Greatchen, to whom he had been married for over thirty five years, along with his son Winston, perished in an air accident. This was the final blow which pushed him into senility. He lost his former stiff, priggish attitude, and started acting like a child entering his adolescence.
As far as business was concerned, he still remained the same stern taskmaster that he had always been. Everything had to be just right. He wouldn't stand for any errors. After all, he didn't make his millions by committing mistakes. In business one has to be letter-perfect.
But as far as his social life was concerned, it seemed that Simon's had become completely senile. Whereas, before he had led a stoical, abstemious existence (people would call him 'Uncle Scrooge') he now seemed to have abandoned himself in the pursuit of carnal pleasures. He was the rage of the gossip columnists. They were always reporting how he was seen in the presence of others, such as this or that actress. At one time he was arrested when the police broke up a sex orgy at his home. Marijuana with LSD and other hallucinatory drugs were confiscated.
He had no trouble being released. When you have over three hundred million dollars, you generally can buy almost anything. Simon's stuff business compatriots were afraid that the 'Old Man' was losing his mind. They were absolutely scandalized by his wild shenanigans.
Simon's only laughed. If they didn't like the way he acted, they could 'go and fuck themselves'. He was a free man, living in a free country, and he could therefore do as he pleased.
"You can't take it with you," he would say, and, I'll be damned if I'm going to leave my hard-earned money to the U.S. government The way I figure it, they get too much of my money already. In one year, I pay more money in taxes than most people earn in a whole lifetime."
Though this kind of behavior was frowned upon by the society to which Simon belonged, he no longer cared. He was a man trying to fill the last years of his life with the greatest amounts of pleasure. Somehow, he sensed that he didn't have much longer.
"I've been such a fool," he once said to John, when the two of them were having lunch at Lenny's. "All my life I've tried to be respectable. I was always concerned about what my neighbors would say. I never did anything that was in the least bit exciting. And now, as I look back at the way I conducted my life, I can see that it was a waste."
Determined to correct his past mistakes, Simon's married a young, seventeen-year-old girl. Together they went to the wildest parties, and conducted themselves in the most outrageous fashion. At the wedding of Walter Bixby the third, the son of the famous real estate czar, 'Old Man' Simons dressed in jeans, an old blue work shirt, and a Indian Headdress around his head. Marianne, his teenage bride, came in white hip-hugger pants and a sheer black see-thru blouse. Neither of them wore any shoes.
It was an absolute scandal. All of the other guests were dressed to the hilt Formal gowns and tie 'n tails. They couldn't believe their eyes when they saw the old man. Several of the guests left the ceremony in protest of the lewd performance. Simon's and his wife stayed till the very end, and had a jolly good time.
At that wedding, in fact, Marianne, who had been a topless go-go dancer at the Pink Pussy Kat in Los Angeles, performed one of her specialty numbers. No one had the courage, or nerve to stop her. She was Simon's wife, and he approved of her activities.
After the couple had been married, all the lights at the Bixby home were dimmed, at the 'Old Man's' request Marianne, a tall, lean girl, with skin as white as alabaster, and a head of flaming red hair, leapt onto a table, and went into her act. The nubile young maid, strutted across the table like a wild philly. She belonged to a new breed of woman She was no longer ashamed or afraid of her sexuality. She flaunted it, like a whore.
"Come and eat me," she seemed to be saying as she stalked across her improvised stage.
She was a free woman, devoted to the sensual excitement of her body. She was embarrassed by nothing, least of all by her body. She had no compunction about being seen nude. In fact, she reaped much enjoyment when lusting eyes stared at her nakedness. Hers was a lush body, a beautiful exciting body, and it was loaded with all of the secrets which men seek after. Hers was an enticing body, a body which glowed like a silver orb, radiating its own light Marianne was the personification of sexuality. She was sin and lust and she was proud and arrogant.
The people at the party watched nervously, as Marianne went into her masturbatory act. With both of her hands she began to rub between her thighs, gyrating nervously to the music which was being playing in the background. Men nibbled at their nails. Women were fascinated. Everyone was watching as the lean, supple dancer moved across her stage.
With a violent motion, she ripped off her blouse, throwing it to the voyeurs below. She began to manipulate her nipples manually. She very carefully rubbed her breasts, sighing and groaning with hot passion. Everyone was watching, gaping, with tongues hanging from their mouths. Men were quickly aroused. Cocks began to erect. Hearts were pounding faster. Blood was rushing through nervous veins. No one in the room was quite sure as to what a proper response would be.
Simons was in back of the crowd, puffing contentedly on his cigar, amused by the whole affair. No one was quite sure who called the police. But when they burst into the private Bixby mansion, everyone was shocked and horrified. They arrested Marianne for a 'lewd and lascivious performance'. Simon's quickly called several of his friends and the charge was immediately dropped.
But the reverberations of that evening rocked the very foundations of Connecticut society. They all blamed that 'nasty girl Marianne' for what had happened.
Chapter Eleven
Marianne was an integral part of John's plan. It was common knowledge that she had a proclivity for sex of the perverted nature. She was an experimenter. She liked to try out various new techniques. Simon's did not object at all when she carried on Very often she would invite home a whole group of men, and she would take them all on while her husband watched. She liked it, and that was good enough for Simons. Anything that made his teenage bride happy was acceptable. The old man completely rejected the traditional puritan morality. He no longer believed in it and therefore, he didn't mind any of Marianne's little pranks. She was his toy. She was a pussy cat to him. She amused him, and it was amusement which he wanted after a hard day of work.
John came that morning armed with all the juicy tidbits of gossip which the columnists in the local and national newspapers were reporting. He knew that his plan would work. There was no question in his mind. If he played it right he would obtain the coveted position of Vice President of Mutual of Hartford before the weekend was over.
Before getting out of his car, John took one last look at those pictures of Selina which he was carrying in his breast pocket. They were gem's. They were absolute gems.
I should have been a photographer, John thought to himself, returning the pictures to their resting place. Selina had an absolutely gorgeous body. She really did her best, when he took those pictures.
Originally, John was planning to torment Selina with them. He had planned to degrade the girl. He was to have used those pictures to punish Selina for her treachery.
But now they would be put too much better and more practical usage. He would use the photographs as a lure. He knew about the 'Old Man's' weakness. He was constantly surrounding himself with people who could provide him with thrills. Well, Selina could certainly give him that. She could give him thrills and anything else he wanted. In return, of course, the 'Old Man' would give him the promotion he wanted. It was a neat trade, and John was certain that he would go for it.
He walked into his office, cheerfully, whistling to himself. At lunch time, he walked over to Simon's office, down the hall.
"Are you ready for lunch," asked John.
It was Friday, and every Friday the two of them went to Lenny's for a business lunch that lasted into the late afternoon. They discussed the events of the past week, and plans for the coming one.
"I'll be ready in a minute," said Simons, puffing at his cigar. He sat in a heavy leather chair, behind a long oak desk which was stacked high with papers, telegrams, and memorandums.
After finishing with his phone call, Simons got his hat and coat from the closet. It was pretty chilly outside, a heavy February frost hanging over the city. He didn't want to catch a cold. He didn't have time to waste on being sick. There was too much in this world he still hadn't seen. There were too many things that he still hadn't come to do.
"Tell my wife," he said to his secretary before leaving the office, "That we're flying to the Palm Springs residence for the weekend. Tell her I've got something really good planned."
"Yes," answered Wendy, waving to him as he stepped into the elevator.
The private room which Simon's always reserved for Friday afternoon meeting with John was ready as usual. The waiters brought in the food and wine, and very carefully bowed out, locking the doors behind them ... they knew that Simons didn't like to be disturbed.
After they had finished eating, they rang and the tables were cleared, and a bottle of cognac brought in.
"We'll be here till four-thirty," said Simon's to the Maitre'de. "We don't want to be bothered with anything till then. I won't accept any phone calls. I don't give a damn who it's from."
"Yes, sir," said Maurice, carrying out the dishes. When he left, Simon's was ready to discuss business. He took some papers from his briefcase, and talked to John about them. John listened, offering his advice. Nowadays Simons was very receptive to John. He was his closest advisor.
At about three, John reached into his pocket to take out a handkerchief. A pile of photographs dropped out John reached down to pick them up as the 'old man' glanced.
He was fascinated by what he saw. He had never seen such erotic pictures.
"They're very artistic," he said to John. "Do you mind if I look at them."
"Not at all," was the reply. "I'm an amateur photographer. Those are pictures of my wife."
"She has a lovely figure," said Simons. "I never knew that she had so much talent"
"Oh yes," said John, "She's quite a talented little girl. My Selina is just brimming with talent"
"If I had known," said the old man, staring at the nude pictures, "I would have sought out her company. I like to surround myself with talented people. My wife, Marianne, for example is a writer and a painter."
"Oh yes," smiled John. "I've heard very much about your lovely young wife. It is said that she is a terribly good ballet dancer."
They both burst into laughter. Simons, who had always thought that John was a stuffed shirt, interested only in business, was pleasantly surprised when he discovered John's lighter side.
"Listen," said Simons. "If you've got nothing going this weekend, I'll be glad to have you as my guests. My plane is leaving for Palm Beach at nine this evening. There'll be quite a variety of interesting people there. I do hope you will consent to come."
"Well," said John, "I don't know."
He didn't want to appear too anxious.
"Come on, old chap," said Simons. "I really want you to come along. I think you would really enjoy it. And, of course, do bring your charming young wife along."
John finally consented.
"Of course I'll come," he said.
His heart was beating like a roller coaster. Everything had gone according to plan. The 'Old Man' had suspected nothing. He was indeed a very happy man, as he put his car key into the ignition. Because of the cold weather, he was having a little trouble starting the engine. He pumped the gas gently, and he finally got the damned thing to move. It was a '67 Pontiac. He promised himself that he would buy a new one. He was thinking of a Caddy or maybe a Jag. After all, an executive should travel in style. He might even get himself a chauffeur. All these things ran through his mind as he rang the doorbell to his West Hartford home.
"Hi honey," he said to Selina when she answered the door. "Get packed. We're going away for the weekend."
"Where to?" asked Selina, surprised.
"Palm Beach," he replied.
He then proceeded to explain everything to his wife.
"This is my big chance," he said. "The old man's got to choose a Vice President by next week. Baxter is next in line. I think I might be able to steal it from under his nose. But I'll need your help."
"You know that I'll do anything you want," she answered. "You can count on me."
"Great," he laughed, kissing and hugging her. "Just great"
He started patting her on the fanny.
"I want you to wear the sexiest dress you've got. I want you to absolutely knock everyone out. Without you I might not have a chance."
The two of them climbed up to the bedroom, locked arm in arm. John held her tight around the waist It still had the same feel to it. It still possessed that warm fleshy quality which used to excite him so much. There was no doubt in his mind that she would knock them out.
Selina slid out of her house dress. Then she pulled off her panties and bra and stepped into the shower. If she was going away for the weekend, she wanted to be as fresh as ever. After shaving her legs, and the slight growth of stubble that was under her armpit, she emerged from the bathroom, only wearing a thick blue towel which just barely covered her nudity. Her breasts jiggled with each step she took in a provocative manner. Her whole body stirred with excitement. The water had titillated her. It made her feel sensual, and erotic. She was in the mood for some lovemaking. She couldn't have felt better.
"Let's do it," she said to John, after drying herself. "I want to get laid. I feel like having some sex. How about it, sweetheart?"
"No," was his reply. "There's no time. We have to meet the 'old man' very soon."
"But," she protested impishly. "Little Selina wants it. I need to get laid."
"There'll be plenty of that this weekend," said John. "You'll get your pick of the crop. So just get dressed honey, so that we can get moving."
Selina didn't understand what John was saying. What did he mean when he said that she'll have the 'pick of the crop'? Weren't they going to 'old man' Simon's house. She started pestering John. Though she had agreed to do everything in her power to help him get the coveted Vice-Presidency, he still hadn't explained to her what, exactly, it was that she was supposed to do.
"I'm not going," she said, curling up on the bed. "I'm not going until you tell me what's supposed to happen this weekend."
John had been expecting this question. He was treading on thin ground. He would have to be very careful. Selina could be very stubborn when she wanted to.
"Well," he finally said, after beating around the bush for awhile, "Remember those pictures that I took of you. Those naked ones."
"You mean," said Selina, very carefully, "the pictures you took after the 'accident'. The ones where I'm masturbating and drinking your piss, and sucking your cock?"
John nodded.
"Those are the pictures I mean," he said solemnly. "I showed them to Simons."
"You bastard," screamed Selina, in a burst of anger. "You castrated bastard. How could you?"
"It was easy," said John. "He liked what he saw. I think he wants to fuck you."
"Over my dead body," was Selina's retort. "What the hell do you think I am? A whore? I'll be damned if I go to bed with that old fogey. He's got a wife. I read in the newspapers that he just married a seventeen year old girl. If he wants to get laid so badly, why doesn't he do it in the sack with her. I ain't a whore."
"That's what you think" said John. "All women are whores. And that includes you. You didn't mind so much hopping in bed with my own brother Wendell. He was my brother. I don't see that it's so bad for you to fuck for Simons'. He ain't half bad. They tell me that he turns a pretty nice trick. Even if he is a little on the old side."
Selina turned over on her side, away from John. She started thinking. She knew that his career was involved. She knew how much the promotion meant to him. It would be a big disappointment if he didn't get it.
After all, she thought to herself, who was she to play little Miss Muffet? Wasn't John right? She came from a whole family of prostitutes? She remembered all the men that her mother used to bring home after the death of her father. They were always sticking their hands up her dress, while she giggled obscenely.
And, of course, she mustn't forget about her sisters. There was Anna, Hilda, Nichole and Margarita. Weren't they all whores? Didn't they all sell themselves to the highest bidder? Didn't they walk the streets of Barcelona at night, in search of American tourists. Then they would take their men to dark, dank rooms and submit to their lusts. They would lift their dresses, and squat down like dogs, while the men mounted them.
How much different was she from them? Weren't they all sisters? Weren't they all the product of the same seed? Why, then, should she think she was different?
God knows, she thought to herself, what would have happened without John. If he hadn't married her and brought her to America, she would no doubt have ended up walking the streets. Now he was asking a favor from her. He was asking her to put out for the boss. Wasn't it a small request on his part? Should she not gladly submit to his will?
"Yes," she finally said to John, who was sitting behind her, combing his hair. "I'll do it. I'll do anything you want. You can be my pimp and I'll be your harlot. That seems like a fair arrangement Don't you think so? Don't you think that it's a fair arrangement."
"You bet, honey," he said.
John was beyond conventional morality. He didn't care what he was called. It didn't matter. In the final analysis, nothing mattered. What difference is it whether people say that you're a pimp or a saint? You live and then you die, and history triumphantly marches on. You become an abstraction. A non entity. It makes no difference to anyone whether you lived or you died.
What was important to John was success and power and control over other people. He wanted the same influence which Simons exercised. When he called, others hopped. They did as he said. They listened to his whims, and commands. He was number one man.
And John was determined to follow in those footsteps. He was under thirty, and he was well on his way toward his goal. It didn't matter who he sacrificed along the way. So what if Selina was forced to submit to Simons. What difference did it make. Who was Selina anyway. She was nothing but some little gutter tramp he picked off the streets. She owed him everything. He owed her nothing. If it weren't for her, he would still be a normal, healthy male. She had done him harm. She had done him injury. Now he would exact retribution from her.
"Get dressed," he said. "We've got to meet Simons at Bradly airport at nine. His jet is taking off at nine o'clock sharp."
He walked over to her and started patting her head, brushing back her dark black hair. It was as black as the night. It was as black as the pit of hell. John brushed it carefully.
His hands slipped across her back, gracefully. He kissed her on the nape of the neck. He knew she liked it. She began to coo like a pussy cat.
Slowly his hands moved from the small of her back, down her naked rump. They squeezed and fondled the flesh carefully. He didn't want to pinch her too hard. He didn't want to bruise the merchandise. It all had to be in perfect running order for the 'Old Man'.
John's hands slid around the girl's waist. He caressed her quivering flesh. Her belly was trembling. He could see that she was aroused. She was moving erotically, swinging her hips back and forth, swaying her buttocks rhythmically. She got up and pressed the swell of her bosom against John's chest. She was in the mood for it She was aroused and she needed some sex to calm her down. She kept rubbing herself against John's chest and arms. Her naked body was hot with libidinal desire. John was unmoved. Her nakedness could not arouse him. He was destined to remain cold for all times. This supple young girl could do naught to change his condition. She could do absolutely nothing.
John looked at his watch. It was almost seven. He still had two hours. Maybe he should give her what she wanted. Maybe he should give her what her body longed for? Her eyes were closed and she was moaning. Hot moans of excitement came from her mouth. She was as hungry as he had ever seen any woman. He didn't want her to be irritable when she met Simons. He wanted her at her best behavior. She would have to be poised and full of desire, and charm.
"Oooohhh ..." he heard her moan hungrily. "Take me, John. Please take me. I need it so badly. I'll do whatever you want. Just give me satisfaction."
"Alright, sweetheart," he said. "But I won't have time to put on the dildo."
"Then eat me," she cried. "Eat my pussy. Please, John Please eat me!"
John lifted the young girl in his arms, and threw her onto the bed. She spread her legs, enticingly. She was the kind of girl that put out. She was meat for anyone's table. Tomorrow it would be Simon's turn to stick it in. The day after tomorrow it would be someone else. Tonight it was his turn.
Selina moved passionately, sighing and moaning erotically as John massaged her breasts. He sucked on her nipples, while his fingers played with her clitoris. John was very good at this sort of thing. He hadn't lost the technique. He still knew how to get her hot He still knew what it was that she wanted.
Slowly his mouth wandered from her bosom, sliding down across her belly. His fingers had already made penetration into the warm, wet cavity. Selina was juicing just like a nymphomaniac. She was dripping with vaginal sweat. The room was filled with her smell.
It was a sweet-sour smell which was released by her pubis, and which wafted through the air, filtering into John's nose. Hers was the smell of raw sexuality. It was an exciting smell. It was the smell of a woman in heat. It was the smell of a woman who hungered so badly that she was being driven mad with desire.
John kissed her belly, rolling his tongue across the clear flesh. It passed across a thicket of crisp black pubic hairs, and slowly it was between her legs, upon her exposed genitalia.
"Oooohhh," she groaned like a wild animal. Just the touch of his tongue upon her labia sent reverberations of excitement rushing through her insides.
"Oooooohhhh," she moaned again.
She twisted and turned, her hips swaying rhythmically, her body heaving with pleasure, as John practiced the gentle art of cunnilingus upon her. He had become somewhat of an expert in this field, and he was very proud of this noteworthy achievement.
His tongue laved her pubis, licking and sucking with the expertise of a professional. With deftness, it applied an invigorating pressure upon her clitoris. With his lips he chewed the juicy red meat, biting into it on occasion.
Slowly his tongue proceeded to make the long awaited penetration. He blew into the orifice, lapping up the sweet tasting pussy juice that dripped down her thighs. In it went, pushing through the red labia. Into the hot cavern of pleasure.
Selina couldn't stand it She closed her eyes and she was biting her lips. She reached down to John, digging her finger nails into his back. She scratched and clawed, ripping off his dripping wet shirt.
John paid her no heed, proceeding with his delicate task. He kept sucking on her vagina, massaging her trembling breasts with his nimble fingers. He could feel the explosion build upon her insides. She was about ready to burst into her orgasm.
Selina bit her lips so hard that she could taste the blood as it dripped into her mouth. Her eyes were shut so tightly that no light could enter. Her nails were digging up the flesh on John's back.
She was preparing herself. It would be any moment now. In just a few more seconds. Her buttocks quivered with pleasure and unquenched desire.
"Just a few more seconds," she muttered under her breath. "Just a few more seconds."
Then it came. An earth shattering volcano. It was loud and violent, and she was screaming.
"I'm coming," she screamed. "I'm coming."
The tremors lasted for five minutes. When they were finally over, John kissed her vagina, closing her legs.
"It's time to get dressed, honey," he said.
"In a sec," she answered. "First I've got to take another shower. I'm all wet"
"I know," said John, patting her rump, as she climbed into the shower stall.
When she was finished, John dried her, scrubbing hex-down, laughing at her as she purred.
She put in a pair of freshly laundered panties, an enticing half bra and pink slip. John helped her on with the garter belt, and he helped her roll up her black silk stockings. He chose a filmy black satin with a plunging neckline for her.
"You look real sexy in it," he said.
"Do I look like a wicked girl in it," she asked, with a satisfied smile on her lips.
"Of course you do," he said, zipping her up. "You look just like a harlot. You look more wicked than Jezebel and Cleopatra and Elizabeth Taylor all wrapped up in one. You look stunning."
"Go on," she laughed, "you're just saying that to keep me happy. You want me to be all pepped up for when I meet that Simons."
"You bet," he chuckled.
She sat down by the dresser to apply her makeup. A thick swab of mascara across her eyelids, false eyelashes, pale orange lipstick, with a glow of warmth. By any standards, she was pretty. She was beautiful. Like a movie star, or an exotic princess. John looked at her approvingly. He helped her on with her coat
They walked down the stairs, holding hands.
"You know something," she said, as they stepped into the waiting cab. "You really don't care anything for me. All you give a damn about it your job. All you need me for is to do your dirty work."
"Maybe," he said to her.
He then turned to the cabbie who was waiting for instructions.
"Bradley Field," He ordered. "We have to be there by nine o'clock. We have an important plane to catch."
Chapter Twelve
Palm Beach is an elegant stretch of land on Florida's coastline, a haven for the rich, and for those who fawn after the rich. The sand is clear and white, shimmering in the magnificent sunlight The ocean is always calm and smooth, like a glass mirror.
Palm Beach is a land of pleasure. It's an earthy place, a place where people with money come to enjoy themselves. It's the place where they go to get away from the pressing problems of high finance and government intrigue. The rich and the powerful leave the high tension of their New York skyscrapers, knowing that pleasure awaits them on the sandy beaches.
They know that women are always waiting. Girls who make their living pleasing the wealthy. During the week, these brown young fillies swim and sunbathe and spend their time playing with one another. They sing songs and they make love. On the weekends, they finish their games and they settle down to work. They must please their patrons. They've got to make 'sugar daddy' happy. He's the one who pays the bills with his hard-earned money. He's the one they've got to please.
They are willing to commit the most shocking perversions, engage in the most bizarre forms of sexual play. These are a new breed of women. Sex to them, is the same as washing their face, or eating a meal. They attach no moral connotations on the act. They have none of the hangup's which 'straight' society suffers from. They live for pleasure. Sometimes they die chasing after their elusive goals.
Originally Simons bought his beach house in Palm beach on the advice of a Texas friend. He used to secretly fly out there every weekend to engage in the sex-orgies, which are common fare in the homes of the rich. It was at one such party that he met his teenage bride Marianne.
Sitting in his privately owned DC-5 jet, he stared at his wife and at John and Selina, his weekend guests. He was a man in his early sixties, though he looked no older than forty or forty-five. He had a lot of money and he kept good care of himself. He didn't plan to die. As a matter of fact, he often toyed with the idea of paying off the angel of death. He certainly had enough money to do it.
He smiled to himself. The thought amused him. He watched John. There was a determined young man, a man who would rise to the top. He was a man with ambition. He was a man who would sacrifice anything. Even his own life.
What kind of man is he, Simons thought to himself. He flicked his cigarette into the ashtray.
What kind of man would sacrifice his wife? What kind of man would make a harlot out of her?
"A desperate man," he said out loud.
He looked at Selina, who was sleeping, curled up in her husband's arm. He poured himself a drink, his eyes wandering across her soft, nubile body. She looked like a nymph. Like a wicked nymph. He would certainly have a good weekend. Wife swapping always excited him. He would certainly enjoy fucking this delicious girl, who sat across from him. She would certainly give him a good balling.
He wondered if she would be as good as Marianne, who was staring out the window, looking at the clouds below. He wondered what she saw looking at them. She was certainly a strange one, this girl he had married. One minute she was bubbly and gay, and the next minute she was like a frightened fawn. He needed her. She was a spark of life which broke up the tedium of his dull existence. But why had she married him? Was it for the money?
Simons was not so foolish as to think that she married him for love. Of course it was because of his money. Of course that was one of the reasons that she consented to marry a man old enough to be her grandfather. But Simons liked to think that there were other reasons. He liked to think that she cared for him. That she loved him, even if it was only a little bit
Simons looked into her delicate blue eyes. They looked like shimmering rhinestones. They were wild eyes-exotic eyes. They were the flashing eyes of a cat in the dark. She looked frightened and evil, at the same time. She looked dangerous. She looked like she was about to spring out of her seat any moment
Simons remembered the first time that he had met her. It was at Carson's house. The famous television actor. He had gotten an invitation to the party, out of kindness, more than any other reason. The people at the party were all hip, and wildly dressed. They were young and active and terribly alive.
By contrast, it was two months after his wife had died, and he was solemn and morose. He was completely solemn and morose. He was completely down cast, on the verge of a serious attack of extreme depression. He had even toyed with the idea of going to a shrink. But he figured that by his age there was nothing anyone could do to change him. And that included the psychiatrists with their fancy sounding terminology.
Originally, when he received the invitation, he had planned to return a 'THANK YOU. BUT I CAN'T MAKE IT' note. But on second thought, he figured it would do him a world of good to go somewhere exciting. It would cheer him up. Make him forget about his problems, and about his sorrows. And he certainly needed something to get his mind off them. Lately he had been hitting the bottle pretty hard. For the past week he'd been going to sleep drunk. If that trend continued he'd soon become an alcoholic. Soon he would lose interest in his business and neglect the affairs of his company. He knew how the process occurred. He had known many people to whom it had already happened. The slow fall downhill. It takes place in steps. Gradually you forget who you are. And before you know it, there's someone who throws you into the street, like yesterdays newspaper. Simons was determined that this wouldn't happen to him. He was strong. He was too strong to be beaten by his own depression. He was too strong to be beaten by his own morbid self-pity.
Thus is was with the intention of finding some amusement, some mirth to detract him from his own problems, that Simons set out to the Carson house, on that warm August evening, almost two years ago.
He was dressed in a light blue blazer, and a pair of green Palmer slacks. A warm wind blew across the beach, filling the air with a salty sea breeze. The churning of the ocean would be heard for miles around. Birds cackled incessantly.
It was such a terribly hot night that Simons was constantly sweating. He was glad to step into the air conditioned mansion of his friend Samuel Carson. They hadn't seen each other in ages, and they exchanged cordial greetings.
"I'm sorry about your wife," said Carson, handing him a drink. "But don't let it bother you. We must forget about the dead, and enjoy ourselves while we're still alive."
"Of course," said Simons, raising his glass in a toast.
The exotic, glass and marble mansion was filled with all sorts of odd-looking people.
"They're friends of mine," said Carson to Simons, who seemed a bit befuddled. "Don't let the clothes fool you. They're all good people, out to have a good time. And the chicks are just great. The place is just crawling with good-looking broads who are ..."
He mingled with the crowd for awhile, meeting a weird variety of people. They droned on and on, chattering foolishly. Simons appeared interested, smiling and chatting amiably. He found that the talk amused him. It took his mind off his personal problems.
After about an hour of loosening up, things started happening. Hash, marijuana and LSD were passed out freely. People were popping pills, and jumping around wildly. One girl slid out of her dark green, silk lounging pants and walked around in her cotton panties.
She was a pretty girl in her early twenties, with a honey white complexion, and a beautiful head of long blonde hair, which fell across her shoulders to her waist. Her name was Wendy and she was freaked out on some 'uppers'.
She slid out of her panties, and removed her blouse and bra.
"I'll take everyone on in this whole place," she announced at the top of her lungs.
She laid down on the brown sofa in the middle of the living room as the men poured down upon her. A line was formed, reaching clear back to the swimming pool. Wendy took them all on. Twenty-three men gang-banged her while the others watched the proceedings with curiosity.
"Any more of you guys wanna fuck me?" asked Wendy after finishing with the last one on the line. "Speak up or forever hold your piece."
A midget, he was about three feet, nine inches tall, walked over to Wendy and volunteered.
"But you're too small," complained Wendy, scrubbing her vagina with a wet handkerchief. She was trying to wash away the sticky scum which was caked between her legs.
"Come on," said the midget, "You said that you would take on all comers. Well, I'm a comer. I wanna get laid. I'll even pay you, if you want."
"No," replied Wendy, crisply. "My work is its own reward. I like getting laid. I don't do it for money. I do it for pleasure. What the hell do you think that I am? Some sort of whore or something?"
"Oh, no," said the midget, putting away his wallet. "But please, let me stick my cock inside of you."
"Well," replied Wendy. "If you want, I'll eat you. My pussy is all tuckered out. Believe me, it ain't easy to fuck twenty-three men. You need some sort of rest after a gang-bang like that."
"All right," said the midget, opening up his zipper and pulling out his small, miniature sized cock, "I will be satisfied if you eat me. I just want to request one thing."
"Shoot," said pretty Wendy, getting down on her knees and putting her mouth around the midgets genitals. "I'll let you do anything, as long as it's within reason, I mean. I'm no prude. I like anything that's exciting and that gives me pleasure."
"Well," said the midget, "can I smell your ass, and stick my finger up your pussy? Please, Wendy-won't you let me do that."
"Of course," answered Wendy, surprised at the mild request "Of course you can do that. You can do anything you want, my little man. Anything that your little heart has a desire for."
"Gee, thanks," exclaimed the midget He was in ecstasy. He was extremely pleased that Wendy has accented. But, then again, he should have known that Wendy would. Wendy is the type of girl who lets a man do anything to her. Wendy is meat for anyone's table. Wendy is the type of girl to whom all men go when they want pleasure. Secretly she looks for their love. She believes that she will receive it if she satisfies them. She doesn't know that men are very tight. They never give anything unless they have to. They know that Wendy will fuck them, even if they don't give her their love. Wendy is that type of girl. She's sad and she's lonely, but she always appears to be having a good time.
A crowd gathered around Wendy and the midget Simons was in the crowd. He watched as the nubile, young maid performed the act of oral intercourse upon the midget He watched as her carnal flesh heaved and swayed. She sucked carefully, applying just the right amount of pleasure. She was an experienced cock-sucker from early adolescence. When she had been only nine years old an uncle of hers had exposed his organ to her.
Wendy thought about this remote occurrence, while eating the midget's penis. She remembered how her uncle had forced her to come over and stroke the soft, furry snake which had been hidden in his pants.
"That's a good girl," her uncle had said, slipping his hands under her dress, patting her young, meaty rump. He had inserted his fingers into her soft, hairless vagina. Wendy recalled how she had screamed because it had hurt.
She kept stroking her uncle's penis, the way she would stroke a poodle. She remembered how it had excited her to fondle it.
"That's a good little girl," her uncle had repeated. "Now put it inside of your mouth and suck on it."
That had been Wendy's first experience. There had been others that followed in rapid succession. There was a time with her brother, and with the boys at a college fraternity. It didn't take long for the word to spread. Wendy is 'an easy lay'.
She started getting invited to all sorts of parties. She was a happy girl. She knew how to enjoy herself. She knew how to take care of a man. She was a party girl. That's a fancy name for a prostitute.
Wendy always collected her fee before the party started. Then she just slithered around and had a good time. 'Good Time' Wendy was her nickname.
She kept sucking on the midget's penis. She had taken his cock and balls right into her mouth. She ate them gently, and then harder. Finally he came. He shot his load right into her mouth. Wendy swallowed the salty-tasting semen. She liked it. She loved to swallow scum. Some of her girlfriends would spit it out Not Wendy. Wendy never spit anything out.
"Gee thanks, Wendy, honey," said the midget getting down to kiss her pussy. "You're the champ. You can give the best blow job this side of Delancy street."
He then nuzzled his nose between her buttocks, smelling the pungent odor which issued from between her legs with apparent delight.
The spectators had by now broken up. They were no longer interested in the antics of Wendy and the midget. It was getting boring. They all had their own stuff to do. They were making love on the carpeted floors, and out on the grass-covered patio that surrounded the swimming pool. A sweet marijuana smell, mixed together with the odors of wet vaginas and sticky cocks permeated the air. It was an enticing odor. It was a deliciously, erotic odor. An odor of orgiastic sex play.
Simons was drinking a scotch on the rocks, viewing the bacchanal which surrounded him with an air of indifference. A girl walked up to him.
"Wanna play, big Daddy?" she asked. She was wearing white jersey slacks, and a see-through blouse. Her breasts were large and inviting, capped off by nipples as pink as cherry plumbs.
"Well, big daddy," she laughed. "Don't keep your red hot momma waitin'. I wants me a little action."
The girls eyes were red and glassy, and Simons could see that she was stoned out of her mind. He got up from the seat where he was sitting and walked away. "Fuck you," called the girl after him. She then turned around and picked up someone else. A black man, who Simons recognized to be a television actor. She jumped into his arms, and he picked her up, patting her ass. He ripped off her clinging blouse, sucking and kissing her enticing bosom. She moaned with delight unzipping his pants, and sticking her hands inside. She grabbed his big, black cock with her fists and started whipping it with all her strength. She clutched it desperately.
"Wahoooo," screamed the black actor, slapping her across the behind once again.
He threw her onto the couch, and jumped in after her.
"Wahooooo," he sounded once again, ripping off the young white girls tight-fitting slacks and red silk panties. He spread her legs apart, and, burrowing his head between the sweet meat of her thighs, he sampled the carnal delights which she had offered so freely.
Simons got himself another drink.
At least that colored guy is happy, he thought to himself. He stood there for about fifteen minutes, nursing his scotch, when he decided that he had about had it. The party was getting him down. Everyone was so goddamn stoned. They were stoned clear out of their heads.
It's no fun getting laid when you don't know what's happening, or when your partner is high on drugs. Simons had come here looking for something else. He had come to the party looking for ... Well, he wasn't quite sure what it was that he was looking for. But, like so many others, he was sure that if he saw it, he would instantly recognize it. He would instantly know what he had found.
Maybe it was love that he was looking for? Maybe it was all those worn out clich�s that Hollywood writers present as truth, that he was after? Who knows? But one thing he was certain of. The party had turned out to be a bomb. A lot of booze, drugs and cheap sex.
He didn't have to go to the party for that. He had enough money to buy those things, whenever he wanted them. Now he somehow felt disgusted by it all. He felt repulsed by all the perversion that surrounded him. It was all so dirty. It was all so terribly cheap.
He put on his coat, and was about to leave the door, when someone called after him.
It was a pretty girl, with bright red hair, and a slender, luscious body that was well displayed in the thigh-high Pucci mini-skirt which she was wearing. She was a full-bosomed, saucy maid, and Simons could see that she was beautiful. She attracted him, as none of the others had. She looked so good that he wanted to eat her right then and there. He could never remember having been so inflamed by a woman.
"Where are you going?" she asked.
"Home!" was his answer.
"Are you a very rich man," she asked, sliding over to his side. Simons could feel the swell of her bosom as it pressed against his arm.
"Well," she asked once again. "Are you a rich man?"
"Yes," he replied, "I'm quite wealthy."
"Then," said the girl, baring her breasts provocatively, "I want to go home with you."
Simons led and she followed. He opened the door to his limousine, and she stepped in.
"By the way," she said, "My name is Marianne, I'm seventeen, and I like to fuck and play tennis."
Two weeks later Marianne, and Simons were married at an Episcopalian ceremony in New Brunswick, New Jersey, the girl's home town.
Chapter Thirteen
Marianne showed Simons the time of his life. She was bright and vivacious and she liked to have fun, and she made the 'old man' change his old, straight-laced puritan ways. She taught him to enjoy the finer things in life. She taught him that sex could be a deliciously adorable activity.
Simons who had never experimented with his old wife, had grown to believe that there was only one position. He never practiced the hundreds of different positions which can change the dull and humdrum into a journey of adventure.
Simons, for example, had always had the desire to fuck his first wife in the ass. Something about her ass fascinated him. He had been meaning to turn the old girl over on her back and stick it in between her sweet white buttocks. But he never had the guts to broach the subject with Clara, his first wife.
Though he loved Clara very much, he never had a great deal of carnal satisfaction from her. She was a frigid woman, who considered sexual intercourse one of the more unfortunate aspects of marriage. She allowed Simons the use of her body because she felt obligated to. If it had been up to her, she would have done away with that 'filthy practice of sex'.
Whenever Simons had the inclination for a little love-making, he knew that she secretly resented him. She considered his lust childish and immature.
"Only peasants like to do it," she would say.
She would grind her teeth, whenever Simons climbed onto her, and spread her legs coldly, not moving while her husband stuck his cock inside of her frigid vagina. He would pump back and forth, inside of her, until he shot off.
There was no foreplay or after play between them. Simons who intensely desired a normal, wholesome sex life once suggested to her that she put a little 'grease in her hips'.
She blanched at the very mention of frigidity. She refused to even see a psychiatrist to correct her hangups.
"We aren't dogs," she used to say to Simons. "I'm not a whore. If you want someone to lick your cock, you go find yourself a whore. I'm a decent, respectable woman, brought up in a decent, respectable home. I'm not a piece of meat for you to fuck whenever you want to."
"Simon's never discussed the subject of sex with her again. He very rarely had any kind of carnal relations with her, either. Whenever he felt the need, he would drive out to Hartford's North End, where the whores hung out, and pick himself one and bring her over to a private apartment which he maintained for just such an occasion.
When the urge hit him, and a whore was not available, Simons masturbated for relief. He was a proud man, and he would have nothing to do with Clara, after learning how she resented being used for his own 'lascivious ends.'
He loved her a great deal, and he was deeply hurt when she passed on. But as far as sex goes, she was a dud. By contrast, young Marianne was super-firecracker. She made him feel like a man. She had no hangups as far as sex was concerned. She was a wholesome, milk and corn-fed filly, whose control was dominated by her carnal desires.
The first time she had ever been laid was at the age of eleven, one month after reaching puberty. In that instance it was a school teacher who had kept her after class because he had been a naughty girl and had been caught lifting her dress and letting the boys look at her 'tushie'. She had charged them a quarter a peek. If they wanted to cop a feel, she charged them a dime extra. None of the boy's had any complaints and they were all willing customers.
They would smuggle her into the boy's toilet, and put her into one of the booths, from where she operated her business during the lunch recess. The boys would line up, each waiting for his turn. Sometimes, even the older ones who went to John Jay High School, a block away would come over and spend their money. Marianne, made a tidy little business. Sometimes she would collect as much as fifteen dollars in a single hour.
One day, one of the teachers, a math instructor called Mr. Katz, was passing the boy's toilet and wondered why there were so many kids congregating in that area. He suspected that they were smoking cigarettes, and he therefore walked in to investigate. He was surprised to find Marianne Salton, with her dress and bloomers pulled down around her ankles. An older boy, of eighteen, from John Jay, was kissing her hairless pubis.
Mr. Katz, instead of reporting the incident, ordered Marianne to stay after school.
"I want to have a little talk with you," he said.
So, at three-thirty, after her last class had been dismissed, the young girl walked up to room 509, Mr. Katz's room. He was waiting for her, alone. He invited her to take a drive with him so that they could discuss the incident in the toilet in a more relaxed atmosphere.
Somehow, before she knew it, she ended up in his bachelor apartment He opened his zipper and pulled out the biggest penis that she had ever seen. Up until then she had only come into contact with pimple-faced kids.
He ordered her to undress and she complied without any resistance. Just the sight of his magnificent organ was reason enough. Her hairless pubis was dripping wet Desire mounted in her loins, and she rubbed her thighs together in apparent delight Mr. Katz was young and good-looking, and she looked forward to getting laid.
She pulled down her pink dress with the red sash pockets, removing her matching pink bloomers. She threw the wet undergarments into Mr. Katz face. He took them and smelled the crotch, inhaling deeply. He licked and kissed the soiled cotton material.
He then helped the young girl off with her trainer bra, and slid his hands across her lithe, slender body, caressing the trembling flesh. She made him get down on his knees and lick her pussy. He kissed and sucked it He had never tasted such sweet, delicious meat. He was intoxicated by her youthful nest.
Slowly, his nimble fingers crept into the crack between her legs. He pushed it deep into her pubescent vagina, and young Marianne whined and moaned, biting her lips in ecstasy. She was consumed by an overbearing pleasure, screaming on the insides as the man's hands massaged her genitalia with the greatest of care. He licked her young clitoris, sucking and biting on it wildly. He was an animal, trapped by his uncontrollable lusts and desires.
Marianne watched as he performed cunnilingus upon her. He licked and sucked and bit on her, and she enjoyed herself completely, savoring every precious moment.
"Beat me off," said the teacher, after he was finished, having around young Marianne to an orgasm.
He slid out of his pants and underwear, and placed his manly genitals into Marianne's outstretched hands. The girl quivered as she held his masculinity. She went wild, like a young bitch. She dug her sharp fingernails into the man's cock, in a hasty desire to please him. She had drawn blood from Mr. Katz's outstretched phallus. He screamed, as she pulled at his erection, biting his legs with her violent teeth.
She had always had a secret desire to do the same thing to her father. Marianne once hid herself in the bathroom under the shower curtains, watching her father as he relieved himself. She watched as he urinated in the toilet bowl. She had desired to lunge out and kiss his penis. She had desired to suck it and bite it though she dared not.
Marianne had always resented her mother, believing that if not for her she would have complete possession over her father. She couldn't understand how he could share the same bed with her. She couldn't understand how he could make love to that stupid bitch.
Marianne, whose bedroom was next to her parents' bedroom, would often stay up at night and listen to the activity going on next door. She would cup her ears to the door and whenever she heard noise and the squeaking of a bed she knew that her mom and dad were at it. She listened to the erotic moans and sighs which emanated from the bedchamber, masturbating with her hands or with some long pointed object. Sometimes Marianne would use a pop bottle, or a fat pencil. She would listen to her parents while inserting these long, hard objects in her vagina. In her imagination she pictured herself lying next to her father, making love to him.
Now Marianne was in Mr. Katz's bedroom. From the beginning she had known why he had invited her. She had seen his lusty eyes, and the lascivious way in which he had looked at her. She let him think that he was the one who had seduced her. In fact, it was just the opposite. As is always the case in encounters which involve girls in their pubescence, and older men, it is always the girl who does the seducing. It is always the young, inexperienced girl who leads the man on with her enticing innocence. It is always the girl who excites and stimulates the man with her sensual body, bringing him to a point where he can no longer control his emotions. He falls like a captive animal, prey to animal hunger.
Marianne looked at Mr. Katz. What a handsome man he was. She held his cock in her hand and stroked it gently, trying to smooth away the nail marks she had made. His cock was so white and hard. She saw the veins as they stood out on the elongated organ. They looked like little mountains on the hard surface.
Marianne, who had often snuck into the adult section of the public library to read books on sexology, knew the function of those veins. She knew that they brought blood to a man's cock and the reason that the soft little worm could grow into a ferocious wild snake.
Marianne held the throbbing organ, petting it as if it was a little puppy dog. As she was gently stroking it, Mr. Katz was fingering her with his middle finger.
"Beat me off," he said, wildly. "Beat my cock, Marianne, I want you to beat my cock."
"You mean," said Marianne, like an innocent little girl, "you want me to whip it!"
"Yes," replied, Mr. Katz. "I want you to whip it. I want you to be a nice little bitch and whip it. Beat the meat. Whip my cock. Pound the pud. Haul my ashes. Be a nice little girl and do all those things to me."
"What do you do when you don't have a little girl to do it for you?" asked Marianne curiously. "What happens if little Marianne ain't holding your cock. Do you hold it all by yourself?"
"Yes," answered Mr. Katz, "I hold it all by myself. I have this collection of dirty pictures. Mostly it's a collection of young girls showing off their pussy's. I bought the pictures in New York City, on Forty-Second Street."
"I take the pictures and hang them up on the wall and I take care of myself."
"You mean you masturbate?" asked Marianne.
"Yes," nodded the old man who was a teacher in her junior high school. "I masturbate, when I didn't have any girls to lay with. But until summer I won't have to masturbate ever again. Not as long as I got my little Marianne."
Marianne saw the twinkle in his eyes and she started to giggle. Then her giggle broke into a laugh. A long, wild excited laugh. It was the laugh of anticipation. The laugh of sexual lust. The laugh of a wild bitch eyes a well endowed stud.
She started rubbing her teacher's phallus, gently, and with a great deal of care. She wanted to do it right. She didn't want any slip-ups. She kept rubbing it, applying an exhilarating friction to the stiff penis.
The man's whole body tingled with joy. Mr. Katz closed his eyes, breathing in deeply. He liked Marianne. She was a good little bitch. She was better than some of the older women he had copulated with. She had that special something that turned an ordinary sex encounter into a memorable and unforgettable experience.
She had a certain enthusiasm that titillated him. She set him on fire. She lifted him to a plateau which separates the ordinary from the extraordinary.
Mr. Katz gasped for air crying with pleasure as Marianne placed his cock into her mouth. She sucked and bit on it and chewed it till it was red with fire. She knew just how much pressure should be applied. She knew, intuitively, what it was that titillated a man. This little girl, only eleven (about two months away from her twelfth birthday) was indeed a child prodigy.
Mr. Katz felt his back tighten. All the muscles in his body were taut, and wound-up. He was about to come. He was about to climax. He could feel the semen in his testicles rush into his cock. In another minute he would unload in Marianne's mouth.
He held himself back. He felt back the climax for as long as he could. He wanted to increase the pleasure for as long as possible. He wanted to prolong the strange sensation which encompassed his loins.
But Marianne was persistent. She kept sucking. She would suck him dry. She would suck him to the marrow. She saw, how he was all tensed up, holding back the climax which was building on his insides.
She kept sucking, increasing her pace, increasing her activity. She wanted to please this man who was her teacher and who reminded her so much of her father. She wanted to give him the pleasure which no other woman could bring him.
Finally came the explosion. Like a wild volcano. There was no holding back the outflow of lava. The man had tried. He had held himself back for as long as he could. It was now time for the orgasm. For that splendidly beautiful outpouring of male semen. For that burst that brought with it the greatest amount of pleasure that any man has ever experienced.
Mr. Katz unloaded in Marianne's mouth, and she lapped up the salty-tasting semen. She didn't swallow it, however. She held it in her mouth, watching as the teacher lay down on the parquet floors, exhausted from his ordeal.
Marianne spit the scum on his belly, where it formed a neat little pool of milky white liquid.
"Don't you like the taste of it?" asked Mr. Katz.
"Oh, yes," nodded Marianne, kissing the man's cock. "I like it fine. I just spit it out to look at it. I want to see what it looks like. I want to make it last. That's why I'm not going to swallow it all up at once. I'm going to lap it up a little at a time, just the way most people sip champagne. I want the scum to last. It tastes better than anything I've ever known."
"Does it taste better than my cock," asked Mr. Katz smiling.
"No," said little Marianne. "Nothing tastes better than cock meat I guess you might say that your cock is the main dish. The scum is like an after dinner drink. They each complement one another."
"My, my," puckered Mr. Katz, kissing Marianne's small, budding breast. "For such a little girl you certainly know how to turn a phrase."
He then made her turn around and stick her ass in his face, so he could kiss and smell it Marianne complied, smiling. She then turned around like a little pussy drinking her milk, and lapped up the sticky scum on Mr. Katz's belly, smacking her lips when she had finished.
She then immediately got dressed, and rushed home, on account of the lateness of the hour.
"See you," waved Mister Katz.
"Ha-ha-ha," laughed Marianne. The naughty girl lifted her dress and dropped her bloomers so that he could get one last look.
Chapter Fourteen
Marianne kept returning to Mr. Katz' apartment for the whole months of January and February. She followed him home after school telling her mother that she was going to a friend's house. From three-thirty until seven o'clock the young girl and the older math teacher frolicked in sexual delight, performing every form of perversion imaginable.
Mr. Katz made one mistake however. He started paying his young pupil for her services. Because Marianne no longer dared solicit the students in her junior high school, because she no longer dared to allow them to feel her up in the bathroom as she had done previously, Marianne was short on cash. She had used the money she had made off of the boys to buy clothes and other things which her impoverished parents could not provide her with.
She therefore started asking Johnny (that was Mr. Katz's first name) for money. He was very generous giving her tens and twenties. These large sums of money which their daughter was bringing home made Marianne's parents suspicious. They started asking for the girlfriend which she went to visit every afternoon after school. They grilled her until she finally broke down and admitted the truth.
Mr. Katz was immediately suspended from his job, when authorities found out about his after-school activities. He was brought to trial, and after Marianne's damning testimony he was sentenced to twenty-five years in jail for child molesting.
After the trial, which had made all of the New Brunswick newspapers, Marianne's life moved swiftly. Her family, subjected to unfavorable publicity, were forced to move to Bayonne, in an attempt to protect their little daughter from the embarrassment with which she was tormented. Because, even though the school teacher was found guilty, it was generally acknowledge that Marianne was a little bitch. A temptress who leads men on. It was very soon learned how she had let the boys look under her dress for a quarter a peek.
In Bayonne, Marianne grew up, and started to date, as most normal girls of thirteen do. But Marianne very soon started to acquire a reputation. She was fast. She didn't mind if a boy tried to neck and pet with her on the first date. Boys of eighteen and nineteen were dating her. Thought she was young, she was well-developed for her age and she was willing to jack them off and make out with them and even to fuck for them. It spread like wildfire that Marianne was the kind of girl that went all the way with a boy, if he gave her a little money. Marianne would charge a date three dollars if he wanted to get laid. They were more than willing to pay. They saved all week, doing without lunch and without sodas and ice cream, in order to have enough money for Marianne.
Marianne's parents, who secretly knew of their child's activities, had no choice but to give their tacit approval. The father, who was ill, collected unemployment insurance, which was hardly enough to provide support for the family. They were grateful when Marianne let them have her earnings. They were, in fact, so grateful, that they didn't bother to ask her how she had gotten it.
Marianne, at fifteen, was getting tired of living at home with her crippled father and her constantly nagging mother. She dreamed of getting away, and maybe even getting to be a big movie star someday. Hers were the dreams of a multitude of impoverished young girls. She was constantly looking for a way out of the filth in which she lived.
Her chance came one hot July afternoon. Her parents had gone visiting some relatives. She was alone in the house, listening to the radio, and eating peaches and plums, when there was a knock on the door. It was a vacuum cleaner salesman. She let him in, telling him that her parents would be home shortly. In fact, she knew that they were gone for the day and probably wouldn't return till late in the evening.
One thing led to another, as it always does with girls like Marianne, and before he knew it, he found himself in bed with the delicious young nymph, this red-haired nymph who had answered the door.
Marianne made Steve (that was the salesman's name) take her with him to New York, where he lived. She stayed with him for about a month, cooking and sewing and keeping house for him while he was out on the road selling vacuum cleaners. This kind of life held very little appeal for the fifteen year old nymphet. She had dreams of glory. She was a sex-goddess. She couldn't be locked up in a stuffy apartment tending house. She was a vibrant girl, full of life, bursting with energy. She, therefore, abandoned Steve at the first available opportunity.
She went shopping for a brassiere and panties in a corsetorium on seventh avenue in Manhattan which also catered to the uptown prostitutes. Marianne had wandered into the store quite by accident. An old, greasy hustler named Goat, spotted her and it was love at first sight.
She picked up her clothes from the apartment which she shared with Steve in Queens and moved into Goat's pad on East Seventy-fifth Street, a very exclusive neighborhood in Manhattan's east side.
In the beginning, Goat only required that Marianne do some light housework. This she did quite willingly. But very soon she found herself out in the streets, picking up rich patrons who paid her for the use of her body.
Marianne was making more money than she had ever seen in her whole life. Sometimes she was bringing home as much as five and six hundred dollars a night. Her price was not cheap. She only turned the trick for those who could afford her exorbitant rates.
Hut soon Marianne was growing tired of Goat also. He was a greasy pimp who dressed in the blinding chartreuse suits, and drove around in a pink and purple colored Cadillac that was made to order. Goat ran a stable that boasted of seven girls, each of whom competed for his favors.
Marianne didn't mind the other girl's so much, though they did irritate her. It was the way Goat would take all of her money from her, leaving her only with peanuts, that bothered her the most. She was working her ass off, hustling on street corners, while he was having himself a good time with her money.
This pissed the shit right out of her. So one day, she split. She left Goat cold, getting a place of her own in the East Village. She liked the people who hung out there. Most of them were young and free, just like herself. They weren't bound by conventional morality, and they didn't have all of the hangups which plagued 'straight society' when it came to sex. Marianne liked the people, and pretty soon became very popular with them. She let those who didn't have a place to stay come and move in with her. She was very free with her money, lending it to those who asked her.
Marianne, during this period of her life, fell in love with a rock singer named Richie McCoy. Though he wasn't very successful at his trade, he was a very sweet guy, with a good sense of humor. Marianne liked him for those qualities. She also liked him because he was one hell of a stud. He made her feel like a natural woman. He excited and thrilled her, and she therefore had no objections to supporting him. Just as long as he knew that momma was boss and that she wouldn't tolerate any back talk. In this respect, Richie was very good. He never bossed her or messed around.
Marianne, meanwhile, continued to sell herself on Manhattan's flesh market. She was a lady of the night, a whore who took care of herself. She didn't need a pimp to steal the money from her. And she was in the habit of advising her girlfriends to do as she had done.
"Get rid of your pimp," she would say. "He's robbing you blind. And when your looks give out, and when you can't earn no more money, he'll kick you out, and you'll end up on welfare, while he goes and marries a decent girl, and proceeds to raise a decent family off of the blood money which you've earned."
A couple of the girls started taking Marianne's advice, and before long there were an awful lot of angry pimps. At first they just warned her to mind her own business, not to go around and be so loose with her mouth.
Marianne ignored their advice, and before long bad things started happening to her. One clear, sunny afternoon, while she was out shopping, they bombed her apartment Soon Richie was found in a dark alley all beat up. It was nothing serious, only a broken jaw, but Marianne decided that it was about time to get out of town.
Hut where could she go and make as much money as in New York? At first she thought about the coast. California was supposed to be pretty good turf. The hookers out there were known to make quite a bit of change.
Hut Marianne didn't like the idea. She was already seventeen, and she was kind of tired of the wild street life. She was tired of prostituting herself, selling her young nubile body to the highest bidder. What she wanted was to settle down. She wanted to find herself a husband, and she wanted maybe to start raising a family.
"Why don't you go to Palm Beach," a girlfriend of hers said. "There are plenty of rich eligible young bachelors out there. And with your looks and body you shouldn't have any trouble meeting them. You shouldn't have any trouble at all."
So it was Palm Beach for Marianne, the poor girl from New Brunswick, New Jersey. She learned the ropes and pretty soon she was one of the most popular girls out there, receiving invitations to all of the parties at the most elegant mansions. She very soon got onto the party list of everybody who was anybody out in Palm Beach. She was receiving invitations from Senators, and congressmen, and movie stars, and diplomats. Marianne led a gay and exciting life. Marianne, the party girl, was the belle of Palm Beach.
Chapter Fifteen
Simons was much pleased with Selina. She was a healthy young girl, zestful and full of life. She gave him much pleasure, and in her own way she reminded him a little of Marianne, who was upstairs in the master bedroom with John.
Selina stripped off her black chiffon dress, leaving her panties, girdle and silk stockings hanging over a chair in the living room. She then made the "Old Man" undress and get down on his knees in front of her.
"I want you to bow down to me," said Selina, an evil chuckle in her eyes. "I want you to get down and bow to me the way you would to a goddess or to a queen."
"Of course, dear lady," said Simons graciously. "I will bow down to you, and I will even kiss your pussy, if you permit. You are my master and I am your unworthy serf. Spit on me, do with me as you please."
Selina gave out a wild laugh. She didn't want to participate in this wife swapping deal which John had cooked up. But he was so insistent He made her go through with it, saying that his whole career was on the line. She finally relented and agreed to let the "Old Man" have the use of her young body for the weekend. It was almost like prostitution, but it wasn't exactly the same thing. This was Selina's one consolation.
She stared at Simons, who was on his knees before her.
"Do with me as you please," he said once again, very gallantly. "I am yours to command. I am a worthless admirer who worships you with all the love in his heart"
Selina laughed. The "Old Man," this famous corporation executive, looked just like a goddamned fool.
"Let's play a game," said Selina.
"Oh, goodie," clapped Simon like a little child. "I like to play games. What kind of game do you wish to play with me, my lady. I trust it will be a naughty game, involving perverted sexuality."
"Sort of," responded Selina. "In this game I play a dog and you play a fire hydrant."
The "Old Man" immediately understood, remaining rigidly fixed to the floor on his knees. Selina got down on all fours, just like a bitch, her titties swinging erotically. She walked over to Simons, who stuck out his tongue and started sucking on her breasts and pussy.
"Stop that," said Selina loudly. "Stop licking my titties. Fire Hydrants are inanimate objects. They can't go around and start sucking on a girl."
"I'm sorry," said Simons, apologetically.
He got back to his spot on the floor and stood still, as Selina walked over and sniffed him. She sniffed him the way dogs sniff fire hydrants or trees or garbage cans, barking like an animal.
Her nose ran over his body, finally gluing itself to his erected penis. She sniffed it and licked it, the way a child would lick a lollipop. She slurped all over the magnificent white cock, in an anxious and extremely excited manner.
Finally, after licking the man's whole body with her lascivious tongue, she lifted her right leg erotically, obscenely. She exposed her raw genitalia to Simons' greedy eyes. She then proceeded to pee in his face, in the same way that dogs pee on fire hydrants.
Simons, far from being upset by this degradation, was extremely pleased. It exhilarated him. He opened his mouth swallowing the amber colored liquid.
And when she was finally through, he pounced on top of her, prying her legs apart with his knee, and nuzzling his face between her thighs, so that he could lick up her wet, sizzling hot pussy. His eyes were red and wild. He was like an animal, licking and sucking at Selina's Spanish pubis.
Marianne, however, who was with John in the master bedroom upstairs, was quite disappointed when she learned how John had been castrated and that was an impotent eunuch.
"What the hell do you think you're doing," she said, bursting into the room where her husband was in the process of licking Selina's buttocks.
"What do you mean?" asked Simons.
"You got yourself a beautiful young girl," said Marianne, "and you send me this impotent faggot."
"My husband isn't a faggot," said Selina defensively. "So join us," said Selina.
Marianne did. And the three of them romped around the mansion that whole weekend. Selina was a little sad when it was over and she had to get on the plane to return home to Connecticut. She was kind of enjoying herself.
John, who had watched while the others made love, was interested in only one thing. Would he get to be Vice President?
EPILOGUE
When the news finally came, that next week, that the Board of Directors had indeed given him that appointment he was ecstatic. He bought a couple of bottles of champagne to celebrate.
His wife, however, was far from pleased with him. He became absorbed in his work and no longer spent any time with her. She became so desperate and lonely that she finally started seeing a divorced engineer. They committed adultery behind his back and finally Selina agreed to divorce her husband and marry her lover.
John was not at all disappointed when she left. He was rather pleased. The year after her departure the "Old Man" went into retirement and John was appointed president of Mutual of Hartford. He was quite pleased about the whole thing. While other people destroyed their lives pursuing hopeless dreams of love and happiness, he devoted all of his energies to business.
