Marriage to professional men was not all it was cracked up to be for Mary and her three girl friends. And these sexually frustrated housewives decided that the working-class man was the answer to all their libidinal problems. First there was the plumber, then the truck driver, then ... When these foxy females applied for "workmen's compensation"-they got it! But their husbands' fringe benefits were something they hadn't counted on!
1
Mary Carter lay awake in her bed with her nipples as hard as pink thimbles.
God, she thought, how long has it been since I didn't wake up as horny as a bitch pussycat in heat!
Then she answered her own question with a sour frown. The answer was as obvious as the mossy circle of heated flesh between her legs-a circle that literally burned to be filled with seven, eight, nine inches of the really eager rod of a really eager male.
"Damn Frank," she muttered, tossing her head as she thought of her husband. Her dark brown hair spilled over the creamy whiteness of the pillow as she turned her face toward the empty twin bed only a few feet away. Empty and neatly made up. That was her Frank. Her early-up-and-at-'em husband with dollar signs instead of hormones.
Sighing, she threw back the silken sheet so that the swollen mounds of her still-youthful tits could have a little more freedom-even if there wasn't a man's naughty thumbs around to tweak and tease them until they grew milky and hot at the tips.
So what did it matter if Frank was the most successful architect in the city, if he got up at dawn like a farmhand and came dragging his thirty-five-year-old ass in at dusk, too tired even to pat her buttocks!
She grinned at herself wickedly as the lusty words bubbled in her mind. It was shameless of her to think about such things in gutter language like that, but she knew that until the world was completely computerized they couldn't arrest you for what you were thinking.
And she was thinking, quite frankly, about being screwed.
"Yes, quite Frankly," she whispered, enjoying the pun. "I would like nothing better at this minute than to pick up my pretty Princess telephone and call that errant hubby of mine to come home and give his wife a piece of old-fashioned, honeymoon-hot fuckingV
Just remembering how happy she and Frank had been on their honeymoon sent a fresh little ripple of lascivious need into her blood. Christ, he had been one beautifully sexed-up young stud when she married him-and that first night in a cabin in the Colorado Rockies had been like rolling on a cloud made out of peppermint and honey. Talk about making a gal feel her oats, he had turned her overnight from a dumb virgin with a tight slit to a howling little mink who wanted it so much and so often that he began to wonder if he'd married some kind of nympho.
Lying in bed this Monday morning, with the prongs of her mature titties sticking up against her nightgown like the thumbs of a lumberjack, she wondered herself if maybe there wasn't something slightly whacky about her constant thoughts concerning sex. She also wondered if her girl friends-Peg Barton, Jill Allen, and Rita Miles-really had their minds on bridge and cooking, on house decor and clothes as much as they pretended. She doubted it. Maybe they were getting a little more mileage out of their fairly youthful husbands than she was getting out of Frank, but they couldn't be getting too much more. Not with Peg's hubby a doctor, Jill's a lawyer, and Rita's a broker. With professions like that, they had to be almost too busy to romp in the hay at the drop of their wives' panties.
"At least I can take some comfort in that," she sighed, moving the tips of her fingers down to gently massage the bloated nubs of her hungry boobs. "If I thought for one moment that those sassy gal friends of mine were getting all the balling they wanted from their husbands, I'd go peddle my body on the street corner!"
For one wild, lusty second she let her mind run salaciously in such a direction. She imagined herself getting all kinds of lovers out of pool halls and off of curbs-young stuff with tight pants and very big, very long, very stiff and very willing rods who would be only too glad to-
"Stop it," she groaned, drawing her fingertips back up from the tingling, erected points of her tits. "If I keep this up, I'll be wanting to use the handle of my grandmother's hairbrush on myself-the way I used to do!"
To get her mind off the subject of sex, she reached over behind the edge of the bed and pushed the automatic drape button. With a quiet rustling sound the expensive drapes of the terribly expensive house slid back all the way to the walls, filling the master bedroom with bright morning sunlight.
She blinked for a few seconds, then threw off the sheet and hopped out of bed. What she needed, she thought mirthlessly, was a good cold shower. like the boys she used to know in high school. They said the coach always told them to take an ice-cold shower the second they got a hard-on.
"I guess it should work on stony nipples," she murmured.
Standing by the edge of the bed, she slipped out of her gown. She had some trouble because the filmy negligee caught on the lifting spires of her breasts, and hung there. She wriggled herself free, then stepped naked across the room to her dressing table. She bent over with her bare buttocks thrust back toward the wall-sized window and dug in a drawer for her shower cap.
It was while she was digging that she happened to glance into the bureau mirror-and see the man.
He was standing out by their swimming pool with a leaf skimmer in his hands, and he was staring so hard at her nudity that his mouth was slightly open. It was an honest, earthy stare of sensual interest, and even from the vague, mirrored reflection she could see that he was getting excited.
Her first impulse, naturally enough, was to let out a maidenly gasp of shock and run to the drape button. But she had learned long ago not to act on the first impulse until the second impulse had at least been considered. And her second impulse told her to keep digging in the drawer, to pretend she hadn't seen a thing in the mirror-to enjoy, in other words, the feeling of having a man stare at her rounded pink and white buttocks and the full-swinging hotness of her tits.
At least somebody found her interesting!
The only thing that worried her was who in hell the guy was. And then, as her fingers fumbled nervously in the drawer, she remembered what Frank had said the week before about the pool. There was something wrong with the filtering system, and green algae was beginning to form. And so he had said he would arrange to have a workman come out from the company that installed the pool.
Therefore, the man staring at her had to be the workman, and not a bad-looking one, either.
She dared one or two more surreptitious glances up at the mirror, and the more she looked at him, the better he looked. Common as dirt, probably, she thought, but marvelous shoulders and a waist as trim as a high school track runner. And although it was a little difficult to see exactly what he looked like from that distance, she thought she could detect a strong jawline, a good mouth, and a lock or two of thick black hair coming out from under his blue cap.
The longer she posed there, the more she warmed to the idea of being the willing subject of such a voyeuristic experience. After all, it wasn't that young workman's fault that she had zipped open the drapes and pranced stark-naked across the room. What healthy male wouldn't drop what he was doing and stare holes through such a dumb female? Only she wasn't all that dumb, not that he had to know it!
She began to subtly improvise on the situation.
She turned a bit more to the left, as if digging further over in the drawer, and let him have a better look at her tits. Far from suffering from the exposure to a strange stud's eyes, her nipples seemed to absolutely thrive on it. They grew round and hard and bright pink, like ripe plums placed lightly on top of two full mounds of cream. And she made sure that she moved just enough to let them bounce and joggle.
Not forgetting her bared ass, she inched her legs just far enough apart that if he looked hard and had twenty-twenty vision, he could get a tempting indication of the-haired cleft deep between her legs.
After a few seconds of this vivid accommodation, she allowed herself another glance in the mirror-and what she saw was worth every risk she had taken.
The workman had a hard-on.
She could see the enormous bulge along the side of his leg, and his tight, wheat-colored jeans served only to accentuate what was already obvious.
A hot little grin pulled up the corners of her mouth as she realized that the man found her desirable. But better-or more exciting-than that was the faint, prodding little itch which began to nibble at the edges of her cunt. She could feel the erotic need starting deep up inside of her, somewhere in the neighborhood of her womb, and inching down the musky tunnel of her pussy right to the hair-lined cuntal folds. Despite how shameless she knew it was, she felt a ruttish thrill as the moistening lips of her slit began to tremble, and to pull slightly apart.
You must be out of your mind, you silly fool, she told herself, to be thinking what you're thinking!
But she couldn't stop thinking it, and before she could check her latest impulse, she yielded to it.
Instead of looking for her shower cap, she searched frantically for her bathing suit!
She had three-one for parties, one for everyday swimming, and one for sunning. The one for sunning was the one she wanted, because it was nothing more than a diaper of colored cloth with a bra the width of a king-sized Band-Aid!
She found the suit, and stepped back from the bureau. She was careful not to turn, not to let the workman know that she had seen him, while at the same time keeping one eye on him in the mirror.
She saw him hitch up his pants, trying to do something about the inordinately large lump inside, but he was obviously past the point of no return. And when he turned to trot off toward the filter house at the back side of tne pool, she got an electrifying look at his hard-on in profile. It stuck out like the handle of a big hammer!
Then a thought not so pleasant came winging into her wanton mind: He could be going to the filter house to masturbate!
"Oh, no you don't!" she gasped.
With lightning speed, she whipped her creamy legs into the tiny suit and pulled it tight against her itching crotch. Then she scissored her arms into the bra and forced her bursting tits into the confining little cloth cups. With only a pause to grab her sunglasses, she ran like a deer out of the bedroom and to the glass doors down the hall which opened onto the patio. By the time she reached the edge of the grass she had slowed her gait down to a respectable stride, but she knew there was no time to lose.
The filter house was a little brick building behind the shrubs. There was barely enough room to turn around in it, but there was room for a man to get inside if he really wanted to. And she didn't intend to let that wonderfully excited young animal do something drastic without giving her a chance to help!
She also didn't want to give herself time to change her mind.
She got to the brick house just as he was trying to shut the door behind him.
"Did you come to clean my pool?" she trilled, her voice so high and hot that he banged his elbow against the door as he whirled around.
He came half out of the house with his face flushing a deep red. With one swipe he tore his cap off his head and held it down between his legs, trying like a teen-aged boy to hide what she was most interested in. But taking off his hat provided her with an extra bonus. Now she could see him for what he really was-a damned good-looking, healthy young stud of about twenty-five. He had blue eyes and thick dark hair, and his mouth was one of those roughly handsome mouths that you see on models who do all those outdoor Marlboro commercials.
The thought of letting him chew on her hungry titties made the blood pound in her head like a jackhammer.
"Uh, yeah, ma'am," he husked softly, blushing even more. "I was sent over. I think your husband called and-"
"Oh, yes, of course. My husband isn't home now, but I do remember. I guess I can't swim or anything until you're through."
"Well...!"
"No, I'm sure I couldn't," she said, grinning, feeling the sudden urge to be more brazen building up inside of her like a torrent. "I always swim in the nude, and that wouldn't do ... would it?"
He gulped, and she saw his youthful Adam's apple ride up and down like a cork in water.
"I just swim in the nude when my husband's not here," she said, purring a little and taking one more step willingly toward him. "And as I said, he isn't here now. Just you ... and, of course, just me."
"Lady, I-"
"And I can think of a lot of things I'd rather do than swim. I mean, a lot of things to do in the nude that would be a lot more fun."
This was a lot easier than she had thought it would be! She not only felt as lewd as a whore, she enjoyed very much acting like one in front of him. She wasn't at all sure why, but she felt as free as an animal talking and acting this way with somebody out of her social class. And the idea of carrying this as far as she could was turning her on all over.
"That's a cute hat you've got," she breathed softly, "but I think what it's covering is a lot cuter-and bigger."
The poor guy was coming apart with that kind of talk, and she loved it!
"L-look, ma'am, I don't know what you're after, but I just came over to clean the pool."
"Like hell you did."
"H-Huh?"
She grinned, and let the tip of her tongue ride over the bottom of her lips. "I saw you looking at me through the window, and I saw what it did to you, too."
"Oh, Jesus," he groaned.
She closed the gap between them, and in seconds she was standing so close to the bewildered young stud that the points of her barely sheathed tits were almost touching his shoulder.
"Screw me," she begged softly. "Come in the house and I'll close the drapes. I want fucked with everything you've got!"
His eyes grew wide and wild. "Are you out of your cottonpickin' mind?" he moaned huskily. "Lady, if the boss ever found out-"
"To say nothing of my husband," she cut in. "But who's going to tell them?"
"Yeah, but-"
"You liked what you saw, didn't you?"
"Hell, yes, I did, but ... uh..."
Before he could get the ragged sentence finished, she did the only thing she knew to do to prove she meant business. With a deftness that made him blink blindly away at her, she reached around and jerked open the little bow holding her bra up. The released pressure on her swelling tits made the snippet of cloth jump forward like a snake, and he caught it in his large, sun-browned hands.
He found himself staring at her shimmering breasts in the bright sunlight, the nipples ruddy and full and nosing up at him as if begging to be sucked.
"Godamighty," he husked, "you really do need some, don't you!"
"You catch on fast," she crooned. "Now, are you going to go into the house with me peaceful, or do I have to drag you in my your beautiful big balls?"
She barely remembered the return trip to the house-except that it was much more promising than the trip out had been. For one thing, his hands were all over her tits, feeling them, rubbing the nipples, squeezing and pumping at the plumpness of them with his fingers until she thought she would faint from pleasure. And she could thank God that the maid wouldn't be coming in until noon.
Once inside the bedroom, she locked the door so well that a troop of Marines couldn't have broken in. Then she jabbed the drape button so many times that the yards of material jerked and whisked over the window like skirts in a high wind. It made the room nice and dark-but not so dark that she couldn't see what she was getting!
The young workman had lost most of his modesty by now. It was as if he had decided that, come hell or high water, he was going to take advantage of a free piece of hot pussy. Since all she had to get out of was the triangle of bright cloth wrapped around her loins, she was already waiting and ready on the bed when he got down to his boots.
She leaned up on her elbows, feeling her randy tits bobble together, twin nipples pointing hard in different directions. She drank in the sight of his lean, naked buttocks as he bent over to yank off his workman's boots. The exciting view of his big, brown, almost boyish balls hanging down between his legs as he bent over sent a debauched ripple of mad desire up her spine. Lordy, she thought, I'll bet he can shoot those things off like cheap pistols!
She was so impatient to fuck that she spraddled her legs apart and rubbed the furry trench of her cunt with both hands, massaging the quickly thickening lips. When she pulled her fingers back they were wet with her juices.
"Hurry," she growled from the center of the bed.
He turned, holding one boot in his hand, his face flushed with the lusty pleasure that all horny young males feel the few seconds before mounting a hot woman. His prick was on full hard now, and it stood out from between his legs like a mighty club. He was circumcised, and the head of his large cock was bigger than she had expected-a big, smooth, pinkish bulb of meat perfectly designed to work its wicked way right up to the mouth of any woman's womb.
He got his other boot off and came to her as naked as a Trojan, his outsized penis wagging stiffly between his legs. He had only a sprinkle of hair on his chest, but at the root of his sex there was a bold bush of dark hair that trailed a few inches out onto the column. Just the thought of her pussy riding his pole deep enough to make his pubic hair mingle with the softer curls around her cunt made her clit thicken and push up through the pulpy folds of her pussy like a baby's finger.
"Ready for a good fuckin'? " he whispered, standing at the edge of the bed, grinning down at her and stroking his long prick with one hand.
For an answer, she pulled both her legs up until her kneecaps were almost touching her armpits. Her boiling twat was thus pulled open as far as possible, and she could see by the hot flicker in his eyes that he liked the looks of a mature cunt.
The bedsprings creaked as he crawled on. She knew he was going to be rough with her, and that sprinkled her already feverish lust with fresh, peppery flavoring. For the past few years, Frank had been too cautious, too polite, too sportingly considerate of her feelings when having intercourse-and now she was about to get it all the way all females really like it. like a bitch dog in heat!
She wasn't disappointed.
The first thing he did was to dig both of his powerful young hands into the soft underside of her thighs. He forced her buttocks so wide apart that she felt a sharp little flinch of pain. Then, holding her legs obscenely open with both his elbows, he pried the lips of her cunt back with the tips of his fingers. While forcing her to submit to such a whorish position, he lowered his head down between her legs and sniffed her ripe pussy. She could hear him sniffing and feel his nose touching along the hairs haloing her cunt. She remembered reading some place that the odor of a woman's sex can excite some males to a frantic need to fuck, but never in all her married life had Frank ever done that to her!
He smelled her frothy pussy until he was satisfied, and then he began to roughly lick it with his tongue.
The solid touch of his grainy tongue against the pliable hotness of her quivering cunt made her cry out with pleasure. It was obviously pleasurable to him to make her turn on, and he licked and lapped at her helpless slit until she was twisting under his attack like a virgin. He drove his long, hungry young tongue deep into the parted folds of her pussy and worked it back and forth, sideways, in and out until the sodden pussylips were clinging and sucking back at him like a mouth.
He stopped just short of making her come, and when he pulled his flicking tongue out for the last time she was so damned hot she would have gladly fucked the bedpost!
With a growl of simple passion, he grabbed the root of his fiercely stiff prick and rubbed the big head of it over the succulent protruding flaps of her cunt. He teased her with the tempting meatus of his rod until she was making savage sounds deep in her throat.
"Tell me you want it," he growled softly. "Beg me to fuck you with my big peter!"
Despite her desperate need to be fucked, and despite the fact that every inch of her body was burning with the passionate drive to feel this rough young bastard humping her like a bull, she couldn't bring herself to beg for it. Somewhere in the far reaches of her upper-middle-class brain was the stubborn conviction that she was still a lady.
But he didn't want a lady. He obviously wanted a slathering female bitch-whore, because that was what turned him on.
"Beg for it, like you did outside," he hissed, digging his strong fingers deeper into her soft thighs. "You want fucked good and hard, so say it!"
But even with her hot blood spurting in her veins, she hesitated.
With a lecherous grunt of sadistic lust, he suddenly used both hands on her. With one hand he drove his middle finger deep up into her pink-budded ass-hole, and with the other he began to massage her wet clitoris. The pleasure was so great in her that her restraint gave way like a rotten dike.
The instant Mary let out the adulterous cry for his rogue prick, he gave it to her right up to his balls.
"AAAWWRRGGggg!"
Sounds, not words, roared in her throat and came out in jagged, convulsive sobs. His cock was too big for her-much too big. And he had shoved it so quickly and so solidly up her twitching cunt that she could feel the big knob at the end of it rolling back the meaty folds of her pussy like a fist.
"H-hurts!" she gasped, finding her voice with a honk of protest.
But he was over her, all elbows and arms, with his lean loins shoved deep into the spraddle of her thighs. And his prick was in her too deep to be easily dislodged. She could even feel his large balls pressing hard against the thin crack of her ass.
"Hurts good, baby," he snarled, grinning at her tits and looking from one husky pink nipple to the other as if trying to decide which one to suck on first.
But one thing she could be grateful for: he didn't start fucking her right off. Instead, he let her expanded cunt soak up the invasion of his large column of hot meat. He simply held it inside of her, making her pussy adjust to every inch until after a few seconds her vagina began to relax, then cling, then throb sluttishly.
"Ummm..." she purred softly, letting a little rakehell smile pull at the corners of her mouth.
"Starting to feel good now, eh?" he asked, grinning back at her. "Lady, I been fuckin' older women since I was fourteen. I know how to treat you, and I know how to make you come so good you'll wriggle your toes for a week."
His whispered eroticisms drove fresh urges into her brain. This was the way sex ought to be, she kept telling herself, just animal and raw with none of the silly pretenses she and Frank had built into their marital life.
"Yes," she breathed up at him, her face flushed with the lewd impatience of a female dying to screw, "I want you to make me come ... fuck me until I'm coming over and over!"
His eyes fairly flickered with the lust her lubricous body was giving him, but he still wasn't ready to let her enjoy being pumped by a real man's prick. First he wanted to build her up again into a moaning, slobbering imitation of a whore. And he knew how.
With his stone-stiff cock still buried to the pubic hair in her tender cunt, he lowered his mouth down to one of her full-budded nipples. He wormed his tongue around and over it, licking at it lightly until it was quivering and covered with the slick juice of his saliva.
He did the same thing to her other nipple, making both of them into twin prongs of dark coral. Then he began to suck on them in earnest, pulling almost half the cone of each tit up into his mouth so that his tongue could manipulate the enlarged nipples. The more he sucked, the harder he sucked. His greedy young mouth made obscene slurping noises that filled her ears with almost as much pleasure as she was getting from his tongue. Before she started twisting and whining with the overpowering glut of such joy, his whole jaw was working on her palpitating titties. Such pulling and chewing and mad sucking was making her so hot to fuck him that she ground her teeth like a nymphomaniac!
"Fuck me, dammit!" she hissed. "Suck 'em while you fuck!"
She knew he was more than eager to screw now. Not only had the tit-lapping routine worked wonders on her hormones, it had made him horny as hell. She had felt his glorious young prick growing even stiffer, longer, bigger inside of her until the oversized meatus at the end of it was pushed right up against the mouth of her womb.
With his tongue still working lewdly on one shivering nipple, he began the oldest fun-game in the world. He started fucking a terrifically hot pussy.
Whatever small scraps of modesty she had been clinging stubbornly to now disappeared in the white heat of the new ecstasy he was giving her. Her cunt quivered and throbbed as he pumped her with deep, powerful strokes. She was glad he was so young and strong, that he had lean, muscled buttocks, because she knew he could fuck like this for hours if he wanted to.
She closed her eyes and let the tip of her tongue slide wantonly out of the corner of her grinning mouth. Without even realizing it, she began to make a humming noise deep in her throat, and her own spicy buttocks began to bounce up and down in lascivious counterpoint to his thrusting need.
"Deeper," she moaned, loving the way her whorish request seemed to make his lovely cock throb and stiffen as he screwed.
"Put your legs up over my ass," he puffed.
With the instinct of a born harlot she gladly inched and slid her legs as high up over his pumping butt as she could. Then she locked her ankles together and began to rock her blazing loins in a circular motion while he roughly fucked her up and down.
His balls slapped passionately against her ass-hole while the bed creaked and groaned with each thrust. It was the kind of continuous, solid screwing that no woman can take very much of without an orgasm. And she was no exception. She could feel her juices running deep and good, lubricating her cunt until the hair around her sex and the thicker hair at the root of his prick was matted and damp.
"I-I'm coming ... c-c-commmMMMMIIII-NNNGGG!"
The orgasm came upon her like a million bursting rainbows. Torrent after torrent of ruttish joy poured through her pussy and over her whole body as her liquids spritzed a fine hot spray over his jogging balls. She didn't think she would ever stop coming!
When it was over he was still fucking her as hard as ever, pulling his hard-on almost all the way out of her sappy cunt then thrusting it back so deep into her that she had to grunt to take it all.
Still tingling all over, she relaxed and began to enjoy the idea of having another orgasm, maybe even better and deeper than the first one. One thing she was sure of: as long as he wanted to ball her greedy twat with that stud-rod of his, she was willing!
He screwed her silently and vigorously for the next few minutes until her pussy was throbbing and sucking once more at the stiffness of his cock.
"Tell me when you wanta come," he husked.
She nodded blindly and kept her eyes closed as the new thrills began to pile on top of one another like big buckets of overflowing honey.
"Yaaaaag," she gasped finally.
Her approaching orgasms brought out the final burst of his maddest lust, and he fucked her so forcefully that the heels of her bare feet slipped down against his sweating buttocks and pounded at him like spurs.
"Yeah, baby!" he groaned at her through his bared teeth. "Come good with me! Fuck me off! Empty my hot balls! ARRRGGG! YYAAWWGGGggg!"
His enormously hardened prick suddenly stiffened into a long club of passion. With one or two spasmodic jerks of root muscles and a throbbing of engorged prick-veins he shot off deep in her aching cunt. His sperm came out so hotly, so violently that she gasped as it entered her womb.
He spurted three times into her, each thick glut of his nectar as solid as the first one. Then he spurted once or twice more as his horny cock began to slowly soften. Her own orgasms had come like a string of nickel firecrackers, one after the other until her whole pussy was opening and closing around the hard pole of his prick like a soapy fist.
He pulled his dripping penis out of her cunt almost at once. The glutinous lips of her slit clung to the big purple head as it slid out, then rolled back together all wet and red and highly sensitized.
She could have fucked six more just like him!
But he was already off the bed, pulling on his pants.
She lay with her legs spraddled lazily apart, the overworked gash between her thighs looking like a raw wound. She could still feel his sperm trickling out of her quivering cunt.
"Will I see you again?" she asked hopefully.
He turned away from her as he yanked on his boots. "That ain't hardly-likely, ma'am," he said in a soft, almost boyish voice. "We could get into a helluva batch of trouble doing something like that again. Besides, I'm married."
She grinned.
When he was dressed, he mumbled a quick good-bye and shut the bedroom door behind him. He said he had to finish up his work on the pool, then get back to see what else the boss wanted done that day.
After he was gone, she continued to lie in the bed. Her pussy still insisted on throbbing with pleasure even though the young stud's big penis had long been pulled out of it. But the memory lingered on.
It was sometime during the next few minutes, while her whole body and being seemed rehabilitated and alive for the first time in years, that she picked up the phone by her bed and made three telephone calls.
She told her three bridge-playing girl friends to come right over-and that what she had to tell them couldn't wait.
When Peg Barton, Jill Allen, and Rita Miles arrived, they could hardly believe the gleam in their friend's eyes, or the rosy glow in her cheeks, or the way she seemed ten years younger just at a glance.
"My God, Mary," Peg said, lighting a cigarette and blowing a whorl of smoke almost jealously toward the ceiling, "you look like Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm."
"She looks more like the cat that ate the canary," Jill muttered, eyeing her friend Rita before glancing back at Mary.
Mary knew how she looked-and how she felt. And she was enjoying both the catty irritation of her bridge-playing mates, and the news she simply had to share with them or die.
"Fess up," Rita said, wetting her lower lip and tossing her carefully combed, carefully dyed blonde hair against her shoulders. "Did you and Frank come into a million dollars-or did you discover the Fountain of Youth in your backyard?"
Rita's unwitting remark made Mary laugh merrily, and her three friends stared even harder at her.
"Did I say something funny?" Rita asked, indifferently.
"Funny isn't the word for it," Mary laughed.
"Then what is it, dammit?" Peg snapped. "Have you lost your marbles, or-"
"Not exactly my marbles, dear," Mary said, grinning. "But I did lose something-and I did find something in my backyard."
"Oh, hell," Jill snorted. "I'm tired of playing games. Either tell us what you're talking about or we'll-"
"I'm talking about sex, if you must know," Mary purred.
After registering appropriate astonishment, the eyes of Mary's three friends began to twinkle with interest.
"Don't tell me you and Frank made it out on the patio last night," Peg snickered. "Hardly," Mary said.
"You had a miscarriage all over a lawn chair," Jill said. "Nope."
It was Rita's turn, and since she was known to be the one with the bawdy mouth in the group they all waited. The wicked little grin she gave them first assured them that she had just the right parry to offer.
"You screwed a gopher," Rita said.
When the collective laughter had subsided, they were still as much in the dark as ever concerning Mary's mysterious behavior, but the subject of sex had definitely cleared up one aspect of the matter.
"Okay, we give up," Peg sighed. "Tell us-and don't leave anything out."
"I'll do better than that," Mary said airily. "I'll show you. Follow me, girls."
The quartet of bored, sophisticated upper-middle-class wives then moved from the living room down the hall to the glass doors leading to the patio, and to a view of the big swimming pool.
"There's my find," Mary said, pointing to the young workman who was now just finishing up the job of cleaning the pool. He had his blue cap back on, and even in the sunlight there was almost no trace of that big sex organ showing in his tight jeans.
All of Mary's friends peered over her shoulder at the sight of a perfectly ordinary, perfectly common young workman doing a perfectly boring job.
"What the hell," Jill murmured.
Mary grinned again. "Come back to the living room, let me make you a martini, and I'll tell you what the hell about him."
They trooped back in a somewhat nervous silence to the living room, and sure enough Mary made them twiddle their thumbs until she had drinks made and passed around.
"First of all," Mary began, when she had settled herself in a chair facing her three friends who were lined up like pupils on the sofa, "I want to make it clear to you lovely bitches that I have enough dirt on each and every one of you to hang you by your toes. To say nothing of what your husbands would do if they find out what I know."
"Now just a minute," Rita sputtered.
"What do you want, darling?" Mary countered, smiling. "Do you want me to begin with you? Very well, how about that broker friend of your husband's who came down from New York last Christmas? Or have you forgotten how drunk you got at the country club-and what you did with that perfect stranger out in the game room while I kept your husband involved in a long conversation."
Rita flushed, but half with the pleasure of remembering exactly what she had done. "Christ, if Walter ever found out about that. I do appreciate what you did for me that night, Mary. I mean, I could have made a real fool of myself if-"
"Exactly what I mean. That's your dirt, honey. And now for you, Jill."
"Me?" Jill echoed, her eyes growing wide under the frame of her dark hair. "I'm as pure as Snow White."
"Don't forget that Snow White lived with seven men," Mary said, grinning. "But I'm not talking about any dwarf, sweetie. I'm talking about that nice young golf instructor that you spent a wanton weekend with in Chicago. You know the one-the nice, tanned, blonde young man who was married, with three kids. You never did tell us how he was in bed."
"How did you find out about-"
"Never mind. But it is a choice pile of dirt, you must admit. And as for you, Peg..."
Peg said nothing. She already knew what was coming.
"Our sweet little fourth-hand bridge partner here," Mary said, drawing the words out deliriously, "once got very involved with one of her doctor-husband's patients. He was a professor, wasn't he, Peg? A very smart cookie who taught Greek or some damned thing."
"He was Greek," Peg said. "All six-foot-six of him."
"And you met him by accident in your husband Harry's office, and it was lust at first sight."
"Yes, we did have a fling for one or two nights-until I found out he was also having flings with seven or eight other females at the same time."
"Probably on the same nights, knowing those Greeks," Rita said, laughing.
"Anyway," Mary continued, "I think I have made my point clear. I have dirt on you, so I think it is only fair that you have some on me."
"We're all ears, honey," Peg said.
Mary took a deep sip of her martini, then leaned forward toward them. Her voice was deep, husky, excited. "That young mart working on the pool out there is not only the sex I have had in some time, he's the best sex I ever had."
Peg's mouth dropped open. "You mean you-"
"Let him screw me? That's hardly the word for what we did only an hour ago. I invited him into my bedroom, we took off our clothes, and he ... well, he balled me until I couldn't breathe!"
"Lordy," Jill whispered, wetting her lips slowly.
"He ... uh ... satisfied you, and all?" Rita asked, her voice quivery and weak.
"Until it was coming out of my ears," Mary breathed. "And I do mean coming."
"Jesus," Rita groaned.
Peg let out a long, half-disgusted sigh. "Well ... far be it from me to sound a sour note, but I do think you might have found somebody a little more socially acceptable, honey. I mean, I don't blame you any more than I blame myself for wanting some fun now and then-and God knows we don't get enough of it from those career-crazy husbands of ours-but to pull down your panties for some young oaf in overalls is-"
"Don't knock it if you haven't tried it, dear."
"Yes, but-"
"The only but I can think of is his butt," Mary quipped, her cheeks growing rosy all over again. Jill chuckled. "I gather he really knew how to do it."
"Well, you might say he didn't know how to do it," Mary insisted. "I mean, that was the wild, fun part of it. There was none of this silly finesse about the way he did it. He didn't try to act like Prince Charming, and he didn't seem to give a good goddamn about anything but pleasing himself. He did it to me like an ... uh..."
"An animal maybe?" Rita purred, eyes twinkling.
"Exactly-and made me feel like an animal, too. And let me tell you gals, feeling like an animal can be a whole big barrel of delight!"
Peg grunted. "I still think that if some male with dirt under his fingernails tried to touch me, I'd-"
"You'd feel it all the way down to your clit," Rita snapped. "And quit being such a damn prig, Peggy. This is a democracy we're living in. You're not Marie Antoinette, for Christ's sake!"
"Still..."
"Look," Mary interrupted, "the only reason I'm telling you all of this-and the main reason I invited you over-is to suggest we capitalize on my good fortune."
"You mean we drag him back in here and make him ball all four of us?" Jill gasped.
"Not a bad idea, but I don't think he could," Mary laughed. "Not after the session we had. No, what I had in mind was the three of you going after your own wild game."
"Run that by again," Rita said huskily.
"Simple enough. Instead of meeting next Saturday for our regular mind-numbing bridge party, why don't we meet some place for a drink-and a report."
"What kind of report?" Peg demanded tonelessly.
"A report on what you three have been able to accomplish during the coming week. A report on your affair with some male in the blue-collar class."
"You must be out of your mind," Peg moaned.
"I think it's a good idea," Jill said. "But I wouldn't know where to begin."
"Don't be silly," Mary trilled. "Use your imagination."
"Yeah, and if that fails," Rita joked, "use the yellow pages."
"You can count me out of this," Peg said soberly. "I think it's the craziest scheme for combating boredom I've ever heard. Besides, if my Harry ever found out-"
"It's up to all of you to see that your husbands don't find out. Look at my experience with the one cleaning the pool. Simple as pie. Frank went to work, and I went to work. He has his fun, and I had mine. And I don't have to worry about anything else coming of it. That well-hung young stud out there is married himself, and he's scared to death about his boss finding out he's playing around with the customers. I couldn't be safer in my own mother's arms."
Rita drained her martini, and came up with her eyes sparkling very blue and very sultry. "I don't know about Peg and Jill, but it sounds like one helluva brilliant idea to me. I'll play along."
"How about you, Jill?" Mary asked.
"I hate spoilsports. Count me in."
"Peg?"
"Huh-uh, but I'll come along next Saturday for the drink."
"Agreed then," Mary said. "We meet one week from today at the Blue Fox Lounge. Oh, and happy hunting, girls!"
3
Jill Allen lay on the large, plush sofa in the living room of a house most of her friends would have traded their collective souls for. The fact that she had married Arnold Allen, one of the most successful attorneys in the city, and the fact that he had promised to buy or build her the kind of dream-house most women only do dream about might have been enough to make her happy in the old days. But the frank little talk with Mary Carter-the talk about having an illicit affair with a working-class type male-had made her jumpy as a cat.
She lay now drumming her well-manicured fingers on the edge of the sofa and thinking about what the salesman had said concerning the gracious old Georgian house Arnold had bought for her. She could remember the salesman's very words: Late
Georgian, with a charming fifteen-panel-door enframed by fluted Corinthian pilasters and surmounted by an exquisitely scrolled pediment in the center of which is a gilt pineapple, ancient symbol of hospitality.
"Some hospitality," she muttered, sighing again with the dull frustration of a gal with an impossible mission. "If I could just think of some way of getting a man to be hospitable with!"
It seemed eons before the idea of a plumber occurred to her.
When the idea hit her she sat bolt upright on the sofa, a large grin spreading wantonly across her face.
"Lord, why didn't I think of that right off?" she breathed. "It's practically foolproof. I couldn't have come up with a better idea if I'd planned for weeks!"
She was on her feet instantly, feeling little tingly chills of expectancy starting at her toes and traveling like a lethal dose of Spanish fly up toward her loins.
"Something's got to be wrong with the plumbing, of course," she told herself as she started for the kitchen, "but what?"
It took a little more thinking before she could come up with her second brilliant idea of the morning. In the big utility room at the far side of the kitchen she found the vacuum cleaner, and the full bag attached to it which her lazy maid had chosen not to empty. For once, she was glad that Tillie Mae was a lazy bitch.
With the care and malicious intent of a mad scientist, she poured as much of the collected lint, fuzz, dirt, hair, and scraps picked up from the wall-to-wall fuck carpet that she could down the open drain of the kitchen sink. Then she turned on the water and saw to her satisfaction that not one drop could get through.
"So much for that operation," she said, grinning.
Then she went to the yellow pages of the kitchen phone book and thumbed swiftly over to the classified section dealing with plumbing service. She knew perfectly well how hard it was to get a plumber-worse than a doctor-and so she had to look very carefully until she found the right ad.
"BIG JAKE'S ROOTER SERVICE," she read aloud, her lips twitching in an amused smile. "Complete plumbing service within the hour!"
That seemed just the ticket, and she dialed the given number with a trembling hand. The voice that answered was low, masculine, husky. She gave the address very precisely, then hung up with her heart pounding against her ribs.
Just to be on the safe side, she made another quick call, this one to her husband's office. Arnold's secretary, a catty and arrogant young lady fresh out of secretarial school, gladly informed her that Mr. Allen would be in court all day.
With a gasping little whoop of joy, Jill hurried out of the kitchen and up the stairs of the big, lonely house. In her bedroom she whipped out of her clothes and ran a tub of hot water in her private bathroom. She poured three or four different kinds of sweet-smelling oils and bubble bath into the tub, then plunged in and luxuriated a few minutes with the bubbles right up to her chin. The sensuous feel of the warm water and the bouquet of the vaguely erotic perfumes made her blood begin to churn. She could feel the nipples of her long-untouched tits begin to bud and harden.
When she stepped out of the tub, she toweled herself, with a huge grin etching up toward the lobes of her ears. Waltzing naked and glowing back to her bureau, she selected from among a wilderness of expensive bottles just the very cologne needed for this particular adventure. It was something Arnold had brought back to her from a business trip to Paris, and although she couldn't read French, he had assured her that the name meant taste me! Using the little glass stopper, she touched generous dabs of the reekingly lewd scent on each pointing nipple of each tit, then poured several ounces into the palm of her hand and massaged it well into the hairy fluff between her legs. The lips of her slowly awakening cunt began to thicken and pout.
Then she rummaged for a good ten minutes in her four wardrobe closets until she found a simple but slinky housedress. It was cut scandalously low, and without a bra the dress showed off her nicely formed breasts to perfection. She pondered over whether to put on panties or not, but finally decided on wearing a pair of silky black see-through ones she had once bought when she was a little bit drunk.
She then combed her hair, painted her lips, lined her eyelids and examined the finished effect in the mirror.
"Whore," she whispered, giggling.
It was only after she had pranced downstairs and was sitting on the sofa again that the full impact of what she was about to do hit her.
"I must be out of my mind! How in the world did I ever let myself be talked into a scheme as nutty as all this? Maybe I should call that plumber back and-"
The doorbell rang.
The gay chiming of the front door made her jump a foot off the sofa, but she found her feet and dragged them hesitantly toward the noise.
When she opened the door, she found herself face-to-face with not one plumber, but two!
"Howdy, ma'am," the big one said, showing a gap-tooth grin in his leathery, crude face. "You need a good plumber?"
"I ... uh ... only asked for one," she sputtered lamely.
The big guy grinned again. "This here is my plumber's helper, you might say. His name is Willy, and there's no extra charge for him since he ain't worth much any way you take him."
Jill glanced over the brawny shoulder of the older plumber and got an interesting look at Willy. He seemed to be about nineteen or twenty, with longish hippie-style hair and a pair of imagine sunglasses. He was also chewing gum as if it were going out of style.
As for the other plumber, there was no doubt at all in her mind that this was Big Jake himself. He looked about thirty or so, brutal but friendly, and his gap-toothed grin and crew-cut hair made him look slightly like a tame bear. One other interesting note about him, she realized, was the tattoo of a naked dancing lady on his left bicep.
"The kitchen is this way," she said helplessly.
She had the feeling that four eyes were on her as she led the way, and the feeling didn't make her feel exactly erotic. When she reached the kitchen, Big Jake shouldered his way past her and let his bag of tools fall on the floor with a thunderous clank.
"Gotta shut your water off, ma'am," he said.
"You got a turn-off somewheres?"
Willy stopped chewing his gum long enough to suggest that it was probably in the basement. But all the time he was suggesting it, he was staring at Jill's ample titties.
"Go down there and see, Mutt," Big Jake muttered, and when the smirking young punk had ambled off in the direction Jill pointed, the older plumber sighed and shrugged his massive shoulders.
"Fresh young jerk just back from the Army. No respect for his work. Don't you worry, ma'am, we'll have your pipes unplugged in a jiffy."
To her vague disappointment, Jill noted that Big Jake had almost no interest in her tits. He hadn't even glanced at them! And before she could open her mouth to guide the conversation in some suggestive direction, Willy was back.
As the two went to work on the sink, Jill wandered back out of the kitchen and straight for the phone at the far end of the hallway. She needed help!
She listened impatiently as the phone jangled five times before Mary Carter answered.
"Listen, Mary, I'm in a mess!"
She could almost see Mary grinning at the other end. "You didn't go and get yourself pregnant already, did you, dear?"
"It's not funny! I had an idea to call a plumber, and two came over."
"So, have an orgy, honey."
"No, thanks. One is young and the other looks like he could tie my legs in knots with one hand."
"Ummm, I always wondered how it would be to make out with a Stone-Age type," Mary chuckled.
"But what can I do?" Jill whispered frantically. "They're both out in the kitchen digging all the vacuum trash from the pipes-"
"Which you poured in, of course."
"Of course, but how do I-"
"Simple, you little dumb-dumb. Pick the one you want and tell him that your toilet flush tank upstairs is haywire. When you get him alone, grope him!"
"Mary!"
"You wanted some advice, honey. That's the best I can do. If worst comes to worst, you can always tell the cops that he groped you."
"Thanks."
"Think nothing of it-but do let me know how it all comes out. I can't wait until Saturday!"
When the phone went dead in her hands, Jill wandered on still more shaky legs back to the kitchen. There were pipes and valves and rubber washers all over the place, and Big Jake had his tools spilled across the floor. But it was the young one, Willy, who was hunched up under the bottom of the sink, twisting away with a lug wrench, and that made her decision easier.
"Uh ... would you mind coming upstairs and looking at my flush tank?"
"Huh?"
She repeated the request for Big Jake, and with a shrug he picked up a couple of heavy tools and lumbered out of the kitchen behind her.
"Say, you really got troubles," he said as they trooped up the stairs.
"You don't know the half of it," she breathed.
When they reached her bedroom, she closed the door behind them, and without Big Jake's seeing, she snapped the lock. She led him to the bathroom where only moments before she had been deliciously fantasizing about sex with a handsome, dashing plumber who looked like Rock Hudson. Big Jake didn't quite fit the bill, but she was damned if she'd let the opportunity go down the drain along with the vacuum dirt!
"Ain't nothin' wrong with your flush tank," he was saying, yanking the handle up and down on the pink-colored John while it operated perfectly.
"I said my flush tank," she said, huskily.
He turned and looked at her with a blank stare, his mouth slightly open, his jaw lax. Then his eyes narrowed and his cheeks turned as pink as the crapper.
"Oh, Jesus, I got me another one of your type," he sighed. "Lady, if I had me a dollar for every hot housewife who begged me to dick her, I'd be living in a house like this and you'd be fixing pipes!"
His casual reaction to her brazen suggestion made her flush scarlet.
"You ... you mean you've been ... uh ... propositioned before by-"
He cut her off with a coarse little bark of laughter. "Sweetheart, I've screwed my way in and out of bathrooms for fifteen years. You wanta know why you can never get a plumber when you call for one? The poor damn guy is probably in some horny housewife's John fucking the shit out of her, that's why."
His bawdy talk-and the clinical, indifferent way he was doing it-was not only shocking her ears into a passionate pink it was exciting her right down to her cunthole.
"W-would you--I mean, can you if you're not too tired..."
He laughed again, and let his eyes circle the jut of her waiting tits, then fall down to measure the width of her thighs and the shape of her legs.
"Hell, I'm never too tired to service a woman whose husband ain't got sense enough or peter enough to do it for her. Where you want balled, baby? On the floor here, or on that nice soft bed I seen in the other room?"
She gulped. "But what about your helper down there?"
He grinned and put one of his large, hairy paws on one of her tits, squeezing it like a farmer testing a melon. "Hell, that little bastard can wait on us-unless you want both of us workin' on you at the same time. Me, I don't go much for banging one piece with another guy. But I got no objection to you giving Willy sloppy seconds, since he thinks he'd such a hot stud with those nine inches he's always bragging about."
"Nine inches?" she echoed raggedly.
"Ain't the inches, baby doll, it's the technique. And I ain't had no complaints yet. C'mon, let's you and me go play nurse and doctor."
With the preliminaries over, Big Jake got down to business. He ran his oversized paw into her dress and grabbed one of her warm tits, pulling it out with all the professional aplomb he would use in rootering out a pipe. It plopped hotly into the palm of his hand, nipple erected and rising.
"Nice boobs," he grunted softly. "You got on panties?"
"Yes!" she crooned hoarsely.
"Jerk 'em off. I like to smell panties. Gets me so ball-swellin' horny I can fuck like a horse. Go on, jerk your goddamn panties off!"
She pulled them off by hooking her thumbs under her dress into the elastic band and yanking downward. At the same time, he was pulling her dress off her shoulders, freeing her throbbing breasts so that he could play with them.
When she handed her balled panties to him she was panting like a fire engine.
"Let's do it on the bed," she suggested weakly.
"On the bed, on the floor, on the ceiling-hell, fuckin' is fuckin', " he growled, grinning.
While he followed her out of the John and into the bedroom, he held the little piece of cloth up to his nose and smelled the faintly musky odor of her twat. He sniffed every inch of the scanty-panty, and once he groaned and rubbed the slow but steady bulge that was growing under his fly.
Jill was feeling something she hadn't felt in a long time-the mindless, simple thrill of lust. It reminded her very pleasantly of the time when she was sixteen and an older male cousin of hers introduced her to sex in the back seat of the family car. He had been the same kind of uncomplicated animal that Big Jake was, she now realized, and although at the time she had been both shocked and frightened at the direct way her cousin had talked to her and played with her pussy and tits, she also had known even then that she liked it. Until now, she had never again had the opportunity to indulge her secret passion for such gutsy, down-to-earth sex-play.
She finished the job Big Jake had started by practically ripping the dress off her body. She was getting too hot to give a damn now, and even the hairs ringing the throbbing doughnut of her cunt were tingling with anticipation.
It took Big Jake a few puffing seconds to get out of his clothes, but she enjoyed just sitting on the edge of the bed and watching. He was as hairy as an ape, and his belly had obviously been abused by too many cold beers, but he was all man, and when she saw the medium-sized, thick, blunt-headed penis hanging half-hard out from the black bush of his pubic hair, she felt as fluttery as a virgin in heat.
The husky plumber strolled over toward her with the panties still balled in his enormous hand. His cock wagged a little more stiffly from between his thick legs.
"Lay back," he commanded gruffly. "Stick your butt a little off the edge of the bed and get ready to wrap your legs around my waist."
She gladly followed his obscene instructions, and the second she was in position he came between her legs and drove the knob of his prick deep into the mossy crack of her thighs. She made a soft, grunting sound as the head of his rod parted the pulpy folds of her cunt. Then, remembering his instructions, she brazenly wrapped her legs high up around his waist and pressed the small of his buttocks with her calves.
"That's a nice mare," he whispered, gloating down at the sight of a strange pussy soaking up the thick inches he was feeding into it. "I'll bet you ain't been fucked good in a month of Sundays. But you're gonna be. I've got two hot balls dying to shoot off if the poontang is wanting them bad enough." He drove his hard-on a little deeper into her sucking pussy and reached both hands down to pat the rounded bottoms of her firm but throbbing buttocks. "You think your poontang is woman enough to blow off my big balls, baby?" he husked.
"F-fuck me, you crude bastard," she moaned.
Her unlady-like language made him chuckle, and his stubby, thick rod twitched lustily inside of her as he thrust it snugly right up to the very lips of her cunt.
Since she had never been screwed except in the" conventional and somewhat polite position of female-on-back-male-on-top, this was not only a unique experience, it was a hell of an exciting one.
With Big Jake standing close between her legs, and his hands massaging her flushed buttocks, he was able to get the leverage to fuck her with a steady, loin-pounding rhythm. With each hefty thrust of his short, thick cock he sent a bruising ripple of raw pleasure through her cunt. She could feel the puffy wet lips of her pussy sucking greedily at the root of his stiff rod, and each time that he drove it all the way in the softer hairs on her pubis, they were tickled by the whiskery tuft of his own.
He fucked her steadily for about five minutes, building up the grinding rapture to a dozen peaks that stopped, just short of a teeth-clamping orgasm for both. He didn't want to come, and he didn't want to let her come until he was damned good and ready. Once or twice, he even stopped pumping and enjoyed the way he could make her eyes roll in her head and her tongue slather out of her mouth as he tickled the entrance of her ass-hole with one big finger.
"I like hot women," he husked at her, leaning down until the hairy bulge of his stomach was touching her own, until his balls were pressed like twin pouches against the lower part of her butt. "I like to get 'em hot, and keep 'em hot."
She could barely hear what he was saying. Just inches and seconds away from a deep and selfish orgasm, all she wanted him to do was fuck her with that hairy dong of his-to simply pump her like a bull until her juices were boiling over his balls.
With a convulsive grunt of sluttish need, she began to do the fucking herself. She humped her thighs lewdly against his hips, driving his bestial prick in and out of her slobbering hole with all the subtlety of a jackhammer.
"Hey, you're pretty good at that," he breathed, holding her buttocks in the palm of his massive hands and urging her to keep screwing. Then, when the powerful suctioning of her whorish pussy started making his balls tingle, he screwed with her until they were almost jerking the bed along the floor.
"Pump it, bitch!" he snarled. "Fuck harder! Grab my nuts with that jam jar!"
Her mouth lolled open and her tongue came pointing out between her teeth like a giant clitoris. Her own clit was already erect, hard and red as a wet pimento, and each time his prick plunged into her body the horny love-muscle quivered like a worm.
"AAHHhhhgggg!"
She was coming now. Even her tits were trying to make her pussy come, and with both hands she grabbed her swollen boobs and pulled roughly at the thick nipples, milking more and more pleasure with each stroke.
"Here it comes, baby!" Big Jake growled, fucking harder and faster than ever.
She was ready-more than ready-and the second his quick, hot spurts of sperm exploded against her womb, she spasmed like a harlot!
"God! Commmiiinnnggggg!"
Even her tightly corked pussy couldn't hold the torrent of juices that both of them produced. She not only soaked his balls, but the voluptuous crack of her ass-hole filled like a sewer.
She was almost fainting before he stopped slopping and slurping his bone-hard prick in and out of her cunt, but she knew she hadn't had nearly enough.
She wanted a lot more of everything.
And so, what else is a plumber's cute helper for?
4
She only thought Big Jake was through.
By the time he had pulled his thick horn of meat out of her frothing cunt, he was already thinking about what kind of fun he could have with her next.
"You ever been anything but screwed?" he asked.
She was almost too weak to answer. Her buttocks were still half-off the bed, and her legs were sprawled at a wide angle with the heels of her feet barely touching the floor.
"Hey, baby doll, I asked you a question. You ever had a good round-the-world done to you?"
She didn't even know what he was talking about, but it sounded like fun.
She managed to nod her head in the negative as her blurred vision caught another glimpse of his hairy belly, and the wet, somewhat softened limb of his sex hanging out from the bristle of hair between his heavy legs.
"Two to one you don't even know what the hell I'm talking about," he grunted. "Your old man probably don't know any more about making a woman turn on all over than a fart in a bucket."
His filthy language didn't shock her-it pleased her.
"Show me," she breathed earnestly.
"Damn right I will, providing you got another pair of panties."
The corners of her mouth turned up in a slack, ruttish smile. "Clean or dirty ones?" she whispered.
She didn't miss the bright sparkle that appeared in his experienced eyes. "Dirtier the better, babe."
She knew now exactly what he was after, and she also knew that she had the garment to drive him wild. Only yesterday she had worked out on the patio in the hot sun, painting an antique frame she had bought at an auction. The panties she had worn were lying at that moment at the bottom of the dirty-clothes hamper in the bathroom, and she was sure that they would satisfy his lascivious needs.
Without a word she crawled off the bed and padded naked back into the bathroom. She dug in the hamper and came up with the wrinkled pink panties. She even put them briefly to her own nose and grinned as the sexy fumes of sweat and vaginal reek filled her nostrils.
When she came back into the bedroom, Big Jake was sitting on the edge of the bed like a big baby bear waiting for a piece of raw meat.
"Try smelling these," she crooned, tossing the soiled garment into the outstretched clutch of his hands.
She smiled as she watched him poke his large nose into the crinkle of the musty panties. Snorting like a hog, he drank in the smelly stench right at the crotch of the undergarment; then he ran his fat tongue out and kissed and licked at the seams.
The sight of such a perverted act, she reasoned, might have made her sick at her stomach only the day before. But today was a whole new ball game, and if it took smelling of her filthy panties to turn this big bull on, then she'd keep him stocked with gamy garments for a month.
"Jesus, what a good stink," he groaned. "Come over here, honey, and let old Jake smell the real thing."
It was like walking tiptoe on clouds as she approached the edge of the bed. Her whole body was tingling lewdly, and she could feel the pleasant goose pimples of fresh excitement beginning to break out on her nude buttocks.
When she was close enough, he slipped off the bed and onto his knees. Both his hairy paws came up and grabbed the calves of her legs so that she couldn't move. While she trembled with both amazement and fascination, he began slowly to lick on her kneecaps.
The broad, lapping sweeps of his tongue quickly fanned her already erotic brain. She knew then what he was going to do to her-and she could hardly wait!
She closed her eyes and let her head fall back as his exploring tongue moved, inch by inch, up the front part of her bare legs. As his tongue traveled, so did his hands. His fingers wormed their way up over the first firm curves of her butt, then settled in firmly as his long, wet tongue licked lightly right up to the hairs on her cunt.
"Lord!" she gasped, quivering with pleasure. "That feels so goo-ooodddd...! "
He began to blow lightly at the soft nap of hair covering the extended pubes of her pussy. He blew up and down, then right and left, air-conditioning her heating twat with an expertise that almost drove her mad.
"Tongue it!" she hissed. "God, stick your hot tongue into my cunt!"
Instead of doing what she wanted right off, he played another game with her for a few seconds. He nipped at the thicker ringlets of her pubic hair with his teeth, gently pulling them so that the swollen lips of her pussy were teased and deliciously tormented.
Suddenly she was using cunt muscles she didn't know existed. With each salacious maneuver of his mouth, the folds of her labia expanded and contracted like the gills of some erotic fish. Her slit was actually opening and closing like some lascivious mouth, begging for his tongue.
As instinctively as a whore in a cathouse, she reached both of her hands down and grabbed the back of his head. Then she pushed his face deep into the eager maw of her thighs. A grunt of pure lust came croaking up from her throat as she felt his tongue boldly and hungrily boring into the soft entrance of her cunt. His oversexed tongue was even longer and thicker than she had imagined-like the fat prick of a young boy-and as he moved it in slow, probing motions inside the outer and inner lips of her pussy, she dug her fingers deeper into his crew-cut head.
"Eat meGod, eat me good!"
His hands were stretched wide-open against her burning buttocks, pulling her hard against his jaws while she pushed his head forward from the front. He was getting his tongue into her slack slit all the way to the root now, and she found herself wishing he was a goddamn anteater!
She began to buck her hips in a lewdly hungry rhythm, fucking his naughty tongue. Her legs were slightly bent as she hunched her thighs lower over his face, pistoning back and forth so that his darting tongue could penetrate her as deeply and as forcefully as possible.
She knew that only a few more minutes of such mad pussy-eating would make her spasm enough to choke him.
"UUMMmmmm! Love me with it! Suck me! Eat, eat, EAT!"
He had his head buried so far between her spraddled legs now that his ears were touching the insides of her thighs. His whole mouth was open wide and covering the throbbing hole of her sex, hair and all. His tongue was thrusting in and out of the delectable tunnel of her cunt, fucking her in a way she hadn't dreamed possible.
With a ragged grown of sobbing joy, she sank her fingernails into his thick bull neck and began to come in his mouth. Her juices poured up from the very bottom of her womb and gushed so hard against his lips and chin that he made greedy, slurping noises in his throat.
Just when she thought she couldn't come again, he swung both of his hands around from her palpitating buttocks and reached up to roughly squeeze the tips of her erected nipples. The new friction brought still another mad convulsion from the depths of her pussy, and she had the deepest orgasm of all.
He kept eating her until her cunt was slack and twitching. Then he pulled his mouth away from her pleasure hole and grinned up at her, licking his lips like a hog coming away from a trough of warm mush.
There was one more surprise left for her. Even as she was crouched over his twisted, leering face, she felt a sudden series of hot spurts against the flushed cheeks of her ass.
He had jacked himself off with only a half-dozen strokes of his left hand, and it was the boiling sperm from his horny balls that she now felt running thickly down her legs.
With his own pleasure over, he groaned and pushed her away with both his hands.
"That was wonderful," she gasped, staggering around him to the bed. She could still feel the pleasurable trauma of her exquisite orgasm deep in the secret hollows of her cunt. But now with the magic over, there was still something lacking. It had been fun-but not really enough fun.
She wanted fucked at least one more time.
Just one more good, long, languorous workout with a man's stiff prick, and that should do it.
But Big Jake wasn't going to be the man. One glance at the curled, greasy worm of his penis told her that he had done all the servicing he could for one day.
"I want Willy," she said huskily.
The plumber stared up at her. "Lady, I'll say one thing for you, you're as hot as any ten sluts I ever come across. And I've come across some real lulus rootering my way around this town. If I was younger-"
"Just send your helper up," she said. "You can help yourself to the beer in the kitchen, but sent up those nine inches of young stuff."
He grinned slackly. "You sure you want to mess with that little bastard? He'd rather fuck a hot pussy than win a gold mine, but he ain't as gentle with womenfolk as I am."
"He sounds like a winner to me."
Big Jake sighed and pulled his naked bulk up from the floor. He got into his shorts and pants, then turned back to her with another knowing grin.
"I kinda like to watch sometimes," he suggested softly. "You don't mind if I sneak back up here and watch that little stud bang you, do you?"
"Be my guest-and don't hesitate to join in, if you see an opening."
It took him a second to get her joke; then he chuckled lewdly and trotted over to the locked door. Once he was out of the bedroom, she lay back on the bunched pillows on the bed and moved her legs wide apart. Her ravaged pussy was already growing warm again just thinking about what was in store for it.
"Nine inches," she whispered cunningly. "Not only have I never had one that big, I've never had a boy that young. But if you've got to rob the cradle at the ripe old age of thirty, you might as well pick a prize-winning young stallion like that Willy!"
She waited longer than she expected for the eager tramp of young male boots up the stairs. In fact, she waited so long that the deepening twitch of her still unsated pussy began to both bore and irritate her.
"Dammit," she breathed, drumming her fingers on the crumpled sheet beside her, "where is that little jerk?"
At last she heard the slow, arrogant tread of his feet up to the bedroom door. She had hoped he would come rushing into the room with those nine inches out hard and throbbing, that he would leap into the middle of the bed and screw her the way she wanted screwed-like the oversexed, horny adolescent male was supposed to screw.
Instead, he pushed open the door and stood leaning against the jamb, a cigarette dangling calmly at the corner of his smirking mouth, his eyes roaming with an almost bored indifference over the sight of her naked body on the bed.
"You want something from me?" he asked flatly.
She hated herself for flushing with shame, but she did want something.
"Isn't it obvious?" she snapped.
He took a draw on his cigarette, then shrugged.
"Jake said you wanted a good fucking, said your eyes lit up like a couple of neon signs when he told you I'm swinging a big piece of meat."
"Jake has a big mouth," she said.
That made the haughty young stud grin. "Yeah, he also told me what he did to you with that big mouth. You dig having your crude ole cunt lapped, eh?"
"Now look here-"
"Shove it up your ass, baby. Just because you park your wrinkled ass in a hundred-thousand-dollar house don't mean you can boss me around. I fuck young chicks, and I get all the giddy-tight pussy I can handle. I didn't come up here to fuck you; I came up here to let you fuck me!"
The arrangement had never occurred to her.
"You've got one hell of a nerve," she sputtered.
He grinned mockingly. "I've also got one helluva prick, honey. Now, you either agree to do it my way-and do it right-or I'll send old Jake back up here with one. of his twelve-inch lug wrenches and he can jack you off with it."
There was something about the bestial, masculine way he was treating her that broke down what little reserve she still had left.
"You ... uh ... will have to show me what to do," she purred shamelessly.
He gave her one last disgusted grin, then tossed his cigarette on the floor and ground it out with his heel. "Now you're talking sense, you dumb old cunt. The first thing I want you to do it get off your lazy ass and come over here and take my clothes off. But don't get any ideas about wriggling your tits in my face to make me horny. I walk horny. But this is going to be my party all the way. If you can come, that's your business. Personally, I don't give a damn about anything but getting my own big balls off-and it's your job to make me like it all the way."
"Y-yes," she crooned.
The next few minutes were a novel experience for her, to say the least. With her young stud-stranger standing stock still in the middle of her bedroom, she undressed him bit by bit. First off was his shirt, then his pants and boots, then his socks, and then-best of all-his jockey shorts. It was only when she pulled his shorts down that she knew why he wore those particular kind. His prick was too damned big for boxer shorts!
"And it ain't even hard," he said, as she stared at the full nine inches of handsome penis which hung between his trim, youthful legs. "It's up to you to make it hard, and I'll give you one guess as to how that's done."
"You mean-"
"Sucking on it? Don't be so damn stupid. I can get my cock sucked all night by any one of a dozen high school sluts I go out with. Hell, no. I want you to get it hard by licking my back trench."
"Your what?"
"My ass-hole, you dimwit."
The word burned in her ears like sulphur.
"If you think I'm going to lower myself to-"
"You'll do it, okay," he grunted casually. "Either you do it or you won't feel one goddamn half-inch of this big pecker of mine. I'll walk out of this room and leave your butter-box as empty as shit."
Her cheeks were flaming-hot with both shame and fear. She did want fucked with that enormous snout of youthful meat between his legs, but if any of her girl friends ever found out that she had sinned by kissing the ass of an immoral young lout like this, she'd die!
"Take it or leave it, sister," he breathed. "And I ain't got all day."
"I ... I ... what do I do? I mean how do I-"
"Use your imagination along with your tongue. Now, let's get this fuckin' match on the road."
With that bit of insulting patter ringing in the air, he strolled over to the bed and crawled up on all fours so that his butt hung over the side of the mattress the same way hers had when Big Jake screwed her. The only difference was that he had his back turned to her, and his lean, hard buttocks were presented to her like the smooth halves of white melons.
"Get your hot mouth over here and start licking," he growled, glancing back over his shoulder at her with slitted, evil eyes. "I wanta feel that tongue of yours all the way in. I dig having my prostate lapped on."
Blind with her own need, she stumbled over to the edge of the bed and got shakily to her knees. As she did so, he settled into a slightly more comfortable, definitely more obscene, position. The deep crease of his anus opened darkly, so that she could see the lewd bud of his ass-hole and the dozens of short, darkish hairs fringing that most private of a male's anatomy. Such a deliberate spreading of his legs also served to reveal his balls-large, brown, full bags of smooth flesh with only a light sprinkle of hair.
"Smell it," he husked softly; "then lick it until I say to stop!"
Nobody will ever know, she kept telling herself; noboby in this wide world will ever know!
Trembling with both anticipation and a cheap sense of wanton greed, she pushed the smooth tip of her feminine nose right up to the improbable crack of his boyish ass. She sniffed at it lightly, the way a bitch dog in heat might try to smell the butt of a male dog.
The odor was not even faintly unpleasant-just the warm and virile tincture of the masculine ass-hole which, to her surprise, began to make her head swirl with a totally different kind of erotic interest.
She smelled all up and down the long vent between his buttocks, then tentatively ran out the tip of her tongue and touched one of his balls.
"Not the nuts, you hillbilly," he snarled. "You can suck on my balls in a minute. First you suck my scupper!"
Obedient as a nymph in a harem, she shot her tongue back up to the center of his ass and began to lightly stab her way into the spreading hole. The more pressure she applied with the point of her tongue, the wider his anus seemed to open.
"Yeah..." he whispered huskily. "Yeah, I love that. Just tongue me good, baby. Eat out my ass like it was a puddin' pie!"
To stimulate herself into doing a better job, she reached one hand down between her legs and began to slowly play with her pussy as she licked. She warmed to the novel business of lapping his ass-hole as her cunt warmed to her finger. When her clit began to thicken and rise, she rubbed it between her thumb and index finger and rammed her tongue halfway up his rectum.
"Jeeee-sus!" he croaked, his voice drenched with the lusty pleasure of having something excitingly perverted being done to his body. "Fuck my butt with it!"
Her tongue willingly began to dart in and out of his cleft, and with each thrust she got it deeper and deeper until the tight sphincter muscle of his ass was clamping and sucking back at her.
"Now, stick your middle finger up my ass!" he roared. "And suck on my balls!"
She did as she was told. With a sadistic pleasure of her own, she rammed her finger up his warm, slack hole until it was buried to the second knuckle. At the same time, she slathered her mouth down to his gorgeous nuts and began to lick and kiss and suck on them like a maniac.
Five minutes of having his balls lapped were all he could take. With a savage groan of sheer lust, he jerked away from her. Her finger came out of his throbbing ass-hole with the pop of a champagne cork.
He fell over on his back in the middle of the bed, and her eyes shot greedily toward his loins.
A ragged grin pulled the corners of her lips toward her ears as she saw what all that nasty butt-sucking had produced. His cock was as hard as iron, and pointing straight up at the ceiling!
It was the biggest, longest, most beautiful prick in the world!
"Fuck me, bitch!" he demanded hoarsely.
She didn't have to be told how at this point. Where her experience failed, her natural instincts took over. With a pounding hotness deep inside her hungering cunt, she crawled on top of the healthy young stud and lowered her thighs down over his hips. She had to hold the root of his oversized rod with one hand while she guided the apple-sized head of it between her cunt lips.
With a groan of delicious passion she rode his stalwart prick into her pussy to the balls!
"Now, hump me," he sneered. "Ball the hell out of that pussy-stretcher."
She began to do just that, pumping her rosy buttocks up and down, slowly accelerating the action until the bloated meatus of his marvelous cock was pushing against her cervix with every stroke.
She hardly had time to think about what she would tell the other girls the next Saturday, but she knew that by revealing only half the real facts she was going to have one hell of a bang-up tale to tell!
5
Rita Miles had her inspiration practically dropped in her lap. For two days she had been pondering the exciting, but problematical, assignment which Mary Carter had handed her in the living room that day: Find yourself a working-class male and make out with him.
"But how-and where?"-she had whispered to herself at least four thousand times.
She knew it was easy enough to assume that the woods were full of able-bodied men doing things with their muscles, rather than with their brains like her broker/husband Walter. But just exactly how did one go out and snare one? Certainly not with a butterfly net.
It was that casual image of herself with a big butterfly net which made her think of another butterfly-a male one. Her hairdresser, Mr. Paul.
Everybody who went to him, and that meant only the best-heeled of the upper-middle-class wives in her neighborhood, knew that Mr. Paul was as gay as a Christmas goose. But being a bit lavender where sex was concerned seemed natural enough in flitty hairdressers, and although Rita had a certain unsettling urge to slap Mr. Paul's giddy face at times, she did have a grudging admiration for his talent. In fact, being possessed of a rank, lewd little tongue of her own, she and Mr. Paul had become over the months of their client-businessman relationship somewhat palsy. Or sisterish, depending on your viewpoint. The polite way to take their relationship, she supposed, was to say that she didn't give a damn what she said to him, and he didn't give a scream what he said to her.
And that was how she had the inspiration dropped into her lap ... while Mr. Paul was fussing with her hair, and she was digging into his sex life.
"Made any cute stud tricks lately?" she purred that morning, feeling his nimble, ringed hands lacing through her blissful blonde hair.
The faggoty laugh which followed her blunt question told her that indeed he had scored.
"My dear, you wouldn't believe the marvelous Marine who just wandered into my life last night."
"Good stuff, eh?"
Mr. Paul giggled. "Well, I always say that if you've got to buy meat, it might as well be good government-inspected Grade A stuff!"
"Was he hung?"
"like a fire hose. I thought I was going to have to crawl up a ladder to get to the top of it."
Rita grinned, feeling a little tug of jealousy swirling through her loins. What a goddamn farce, she reflected, that mincing little queens like Mr.
Paul could go out and snag the best horseflesh in town, while she went without!
"You'll have to let me in on your secrets," she purred.
Mr. Paul jangled a few of his silver and turquoise bracelets as he pulled at her hair expertly. "Sorry, doll. It's like I always say, this year's trade is next year's competition. If I let you females in on how easy it is to pick up a straight butch trick, you'd run me out of business-and I don't mean teasing hair!"
"I just want one, not your whole stable. Tell me how you do it."
"Well, the first thing is to be very friendly. And the second thing is to make sure that he is very friendly. I don't relish having my capped teeth knocked out. Once you've established that some sort of rapport is possible, then let him know you want it."
"It?"
"His big petey-bone, you silly-puss. Let him know you'd walk a mile for one of his smiles. Or a block for his cock, as they say."
Rita chuckled, and felt a fresh little ripple of warmth playing seductively at her nipples beneath her bra. "So what types do you like best, darling?" she insisted.
"That's an easy question," Mr. Paul lisped, eyeing his own slender figure in the big mirror in front of them. "I want a man. I don't give a damn if he's tall, short, young, old, black, yellow, red or a combination of all of those. I do insist, however, that he's not a flit, and as one of my dearest sisters used to say, 'It helps if he's got a little monkey grease on his balls.' "
"The working-class type, eh?"
"You phrase maker! Yes, dear, give me a man who works with his hands, and I'll give him one who works with his mouth. ME!"
"What kind are the easiest to pick up?"
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Rita sighed. "I mean, what types are the horniest and the most readily available-carpenters, tree pruners, TV repairmen, janitors--? "
"Oh, that. Personally, I think it's fun to just shop around. I remember once getting a divine house painter just by checking the line at the unemployment agency. He had a face like an angel and the body and the appetite of a Trojan! Lord, that stud could screw! I had to sit on satin pillows for weeks!"
"So you recommend house painters, for God's sake?"
"Mercy no, you little lost lamb. I wouldn't recommend anybody local for a quickie-and I assume that is what you have in mind. Too risky. And they always are afraid their dowdy wives will find out. No, sweetie. Get somebody who's just passing through. Somebody on the move. Somebody who when he gets ten miles away from his hometown is looking for sex the way a panther looks for meat."
"But who would that-"
"Lordy, Nellie, haven't you got any imagination in that Jean Harlow head of yours? Truck drivers, who else?"
Right in her lap.
The second she got out of Mr. Paul's clutches, she roared her open convertible to the spot he had suggested-the city by-pass.
She kept in mind every precious tidbit of expert information her flitty friend had given her, and though her heart was pounding like a tom-tom in her breast, she kept repeating the essential facts: pick yourself a cute one and do whatever you can to attract his attention short of hanging your ass out the window ... then toot your horn, grin, wave, and let the good gay Lord do the rest! Words to live and lust by!
The city by-pass was like all by-passes, mostly motels and restaurants and service stations. And she had no trouble at all in spotting dozens of big trucks moving like fat worms down the road. The only problem was, most of them had two drivers-and she wasn't quite ready for an orgy on wheels! What she wanted was what Mr. Paul had told her was the surest bet: find one young, dumb, and hung-and alone! And if he's got what it takes in the dong department, dearie, give him my phone number when you're through!
A brazen little grin etched up the corners of her mouth as she thought about telling the rest of the girls how she had gone out and flagged down a truck driver-on a homo's tip! She had no doubt that stranger things had happened, but she had to admit that Mr. Paul's suggestions made a helluva lot of sense.
She spotted two more trucks with single drivers and roared up beside them to check them out. Both turned out to be bad news. One was old enough to be her grandfather, and the other one fat enough to flatten the twelve tires under him.
"Where are the cute ones?" she muttered, feeling a demanding little itch beginning at the inner lips of her pussy. "There's got to be at least one young sex freak on the road!"
There was. But she didn't find him on the road, but off of it. Only when she pulled into a drive-in hamburger joint to get a cup of coffee and refigure her strategy did she have the real thing fall into her lap.
He was driving a truck the size of a building, with about forty out-of-state tags nailed on the back end and a skunk tail flying from his radio antenna. And the first thing she saw of him was a pair of scruffy cowboy boots slopped out the window on the driver's side, and an equally scruffy cowboy hat propped up on the dash.
"Allah be praised," she breathed. "If that's not passion on the hoof, then I'll turn in my pillls!"
She parked right beside him, and when she punched the automatic ordering button to off, so that only he could hear, she said in a voice that would have made a saint horny, "All I want is a big piece of meat-and the sooner the better!"
In about as long as it takes for two big country-boy-from-Texas ears to absorb that kind of bald begging, the boots slopped down and a head appeared. She was waiting, eyes peeled. And what she saw sent a pumping thrust of raw lust into her blood.
A combination of Gary Cooper and Ryan O'Neal!
He was looking down at her from the big cab of his truck, his eyes wide and blue and corny, his slack mouth half-open in a lopsided, cute grin.
"Hi," she purred softly, remembering to grin back at him the way Mr. Paul had suggested-the sort of grin that stops just short of suggesting they fuck on the hood of her car!
"How're yawl?" he drawled back at her, smiling now so that she got the full effect of a row of dazzling, milk-white teeth, plus a set of dimples and a deeply clefted chin. "You must be mighty hongry, ma'am."
She took the deepest breath of her life. "All I want is a big piece of meat."
He grinned again, and she saw his cheeks flush coral. He not only had the message, he had invented it! "Best place for a really big piece of meat is down the road," he said, winking at her and showing those delightful dimples.
"Is that so? How far down the road?"
"Little ole place I know of. You could follow me, I reckon."
I reckon I could-and will, she thought.
"Lead on, MacDuff," she trilled.
He smiled uncertainly. "I reckon you got the wrong trucker, ma'am. My name is Hank. Hank Hancey."
"Glad to know you, Hank. You lead, I'll follow."
It took a few moments for him to back the big truck out of the drive-in, but she was only too happy to wait. She didn't know exactly what she was going to do with this big-booted stud, she told herself, but she sure as hell didn't need fruity Mr. Paul around to give her coaching lessons. She did have some vague, erotic visions of her Texas Lothario pulling her into the back end of that mountain-sized truck of his and screwing her half to death while he chewed on a sprig of oats. Not that she would mind, as long as he chewed a wee bit on her tits, too!
"My, you are getting to be the nympho your mother always said you'd be, aren't you?" she whispered to herself, loving the hot little flashes of deepening lust that were beginning to turn her starved cunt into a little oven. This was as exciting as Mary had promised it would be. It certainly did beat the bejesus out of a hand of bridge!
The big truck was on the by-pass now, and she was following it like a French poodle following a Great Dane with a hard-on!
They seemed to go for miles, but finally the traffic thinned out and up ahead she could see a very welcome sign: REST AREA.
"So that's where they do it," she hummed, feeling the nipples of her tits beginning to turn into bullet-heads. "I wonder how many times that good-looking young bastard has pulled down panties at that spot."
But it was her panties that were ready to be pulled down now, and if they didn't hurry up and get with it she was afraid she would sop right through them.
"I haven't been this hot since the night of my honeymoon," she breathed, gripping the steering wheel of the big convertible until her knuckles ached. "But it will be better this time, because I not only know now that a gal is supposed to enjoy getting screwed, she's supposed to like it better than the male. And if that's not female liberation, then you can hang a harness on my twat!"
The big truck's lights were twitching red, and the front of it lumbered off the road into the shady area of the rest stop. She pumped her brakes and slid right up beside him.
"Yawl wanta crawl out of that big sardine can and come up here?" he called down at her, leaning his cowboyishly handsome face out the window.
"My pleasure," she yipped back.
She was trembling all over as he opened the square door of the cab and helped her up. Once inside, she felt she was sitting in one of those little chairs they strap on top of elephants. The cars whizzing by on the highway were much too low to see anything they might be doing up in the cab, which, with all things considered, was a very wise ploy.
Up close, he was even better than she had thought: tall and a bit lanky, with curly dark hair and eyes as blue as carpenters' chalk. He was all sex, from head to toe, and she wondered if maybe a nice motel room wouldn't have been a better nest for curing her nerves.
"Well," she crooned huskily, "what do we do now?"
He grinned at her, then wiped the back of his kissable mouth with one swipe of his hand. "Reckon that's up to you, ma'am."
That seemed fair enough, but she didn't quite know where to begin. As if to help her make up her mind, she was allowed to get a blinding glimpse of the big bulge in his jeans. He turned so that one leg rested at an angle on the seat beside her-and she could see that the denim cloth at his fly was worn white where the long, curling lump of his Texas-sized cock always rested.
"I reckon yawl could blow me," he said simply. "You said something about needin' a big piece of meat, and I shore do have one, they tell me."
She wet her lips and tried to keep back the urge to flap her arms and crow like a cock for a cock!
But if she did that for him, she wanted to know what he would do for her...
"Now pussy-eatin' and cunt-fuckin', " he drawled casually, "is more than-likely what you had in mind. I mean, I wouldn't blame you a bit for wan tin' that. But some of us old boys have to be primed-up to service a gal. Me, I got to have just a whole lot of tongue-lickin' all up and down my peter, and maybe feel it git all the way down somebody's throat before I can git turned on much."
"And then what can you do?" she asked breathlessly.
He grinned. "There ain't nothin' much I can't do when my poker gits up really big and hard-and after I come good."
She blinked at him. "After? Don't you mean ... before?"
"Nope. Now that's the dangdest funny thing. I don't reckon you've heard of how it is with mules."
"I ... uh ... reckon I haven't."
"Well, sir, mules are animals that can't git hot too easy. I mean, you can put a mare with a swole-up cunt right in front of a mule, and he won't do nothin' but flap his ears. But you git that same mule worked up and make him shoot off his balls just once, and he's good for all night. Pleasure more damn hot mares than you can shake a stick at."
She shrugged vaguely. "But I thought once a male has ... uh ... shot off his balls, he loses interest in..."
"Mules don't. And like I said, some of us Texas boys is mighty like mules. To put it right on the table, lady, you suck on my cock-and you keep sucking until I shoot my nuts off-and I'll give you the best fuckin' this side of the Mississippi."
"That's a lot of territory," she breathed, grinning.
"And that's a whole big lot of hard meat I'm offerin' you, too."
It did sound like one blissful hell of a bargain to her.
"Unzip," she purred, reaching for him with both hands.
"Whoa," he chuckled softly, catching her hot wrists with his strong fingers. "I was just about to tell you how come I got to be like a mule."
"Does it matter?"
"Matters to mules. And some of us country Texas boys is-"
"I know, dammit. You're just like them. That's all right with me as long as-"
"Happened when I was about fourteen goin' on fifteen," he drawled, still holding her hands in his firm grip. "Reckon I was big and all for my age, if you know what I mean."
"I'm trying to find out what you mean ... if you'd let me see it!"
"Don't you worry none about that, honey. I'll let you see it and suck it, but first I like to git primed up. I can git all primed up when I tell somebody about the time back in Texas when I got my twanger sucked on the first time."
It seemed like a very screwy time for listening to the memoirs of a dumb cowboy, but it was beginning to dawn on her that she had picked herself up one very odd, very sexy saddle tramp. But the thought of hopping out of the cab at this point, and the worse thought of missing her chance to have some fun with that big thing in his pants was certainly out of the question.
"So talk," she sighed. "But don't forget I'm a mare."
He grinned and released her hands. "Yep, and yore a hot one, too. I can sure tell that. Just about as hot as my maw was first time she give me a blowjob."
Her eyes widened. "Your mother gave you-"
"Not my real maw. My real one kicked the bucket when I come nosing into the world. Nope, this maw was my step-maw. She come in outta the cotton patch to marry my paw, but I reckon some folks would say she belonged out in the cotton patch with the niggers if they could know what she done to me."
"I'm all ears."
"Wal, maw was only about twenty-two, or so. And my paw was nearer to fifty than he was to forty. But he was a horny old goat, I reckon, so he wanted him a piece of young, hot pussy. Lena Belle-that was my step-maw-was sure cut out for satisfying a man like paw. Only trouble was, he didn't come anyways near satisfying her. And that's where I come in."
"Do tell."
"Yes'm. She caught me one day out in the barn when I was milkin', and she started playin' around with me same way I was playin' with the cows. She had my big young pecker out of my pants before I could say Sam Houston."
"And now comes the good part, I'll bet."
"Sure was good for me. Lena Belle dropped down on her knees right there in front of God and everybody-"
"Including the cows, I gather."
"-and started suckin' on my fourteen-year-old prick like she was gonna eat it off at the balls. I reckon you can git the picture of that."
"I've got the picture."
"Purty, sweet young gal with her hungry lips circled around one of the biggest, hardest, willingest cocks in Texas, and suckin' it so good I wanted to bite through a horseshoe."
"Muleshoe, you mean."
"Then, course, after that she had me fuckin' her behind ever' bush in the county. That's all she was after in the first place."
"I know how she felt."
"But I always made her suck it real good before I'd give her what she wanted."
"So much for hard bargains. Is yours hard yet?"
The question was about as superficial as his yarn about life with mother. She had only to glance between his sprawled legs to get her answer. It looked as if he were trying to smuggle out a loaf of French bread.
"Reckon I am primed up," he breathed raggedly.
It was all she needed to hear...
6
"Yawl don't mind if I hang my hat up first, do you?" he was saying as he pulled the big soiled cowboy Stetson off his good-looking head and began to open the truck door.
"Where the hell are you hanging it?" she muttered. "On a fence post in Texas?"
He grinned as the top half of his body disappeared for a second out of the open door. When he came sliding back into the cab he was hatless.
"I got kinda a superstition about hangin' my hat on the radio antenna. Long as I know my ole hat is up high, seems like my pecker stays up there, too."
"Hooray for Philco," she said, grinning.
Once back snugly in the cab she reached again with both hot hands for that obvious bulge in his tight jeans. r
"Reckon we better do it in back," he suggested, maneuvering his trim hips once again out of her hungry grasp. "Ain't much room up here to get comfy. I reckon you'd like for me to finger you some while you're eatin'. "
"You bet your big boots I would!"
"C'mon then."
She sat pat while he crawled all six feet of his lanky Texas-stud body over the back of the seat and disappeared ass-last into the spacious bunk area well behind the seats.
"You've got a damn bed back there?" she purred breathlessly.
"Shore do, ma'am. Can't do no good screwin' and eatin' without you can stretch out. C'mon back-and yank off them panties of yours while I git my britches down."
At long last, Rita thought, that long-legged, beautiful bastard is going to let me suck on that thing!
It wouldn't be the first time that she had rolled her brazen tongue around the stiff penis of a willing male. She had been an expert at it in college. In fact, at one time it had been such a specialty with her that the fraternity boys she knew used to line up to go out with her. "Old party-mouth" they called her! And she had long ago gotten over any silly hang-ups about oral sex, although her husband Walter didn't go for such stuff. He thought it was queer, and now she was going to have a chance to catch up on a whole big lot of cocksucking!
She had her panties off even before she crawled over the seat, and the hairy, hungering slit between her legs was throbbing to feel the exploring wriggle of the cowboy's finger-or rather, fingers!
It was nice and shadowy in the spacious niche behind the seats. He did, indeed, have his britches down when she crawled in on top of him. His jeans were bunched together at the top of his boots, along with his shorts and the outsized cowboy-belt buckle shaped like a steer's head. And just to make sure she had all the naked male body she wanted to lick and kiss, he had unbuttoned his Western shirt all the way so that she could get at his lightly-haired chest and the twin brown nipples poking up from little stubbles on his pectoral muscles.
But her first interest was the almost unmanageable size of his prick. It was one of the biggest and longest goddamn fuck-rods she had ever seen, and it was already standing up from between his spraddled legs half-hard and half-soft. Although both her fingers and tongue itched to touch it, she had to simply admire his whopping prick for a few seconds, drinking in the erotic sight of the kind of cock that can drive an already horny female right out of her skull.
"Jesus, I'll bet your stepmother did have fun with that," she whispered raggedly.
"You bet, honey," he rasped. "It wasn't half that long when she started suckin' on it, so I reckon what they say about makin' a peter grow by lovin' it once or twice a day with a hot mouth is sure enough a fact."
In that case, she fully intended to make the damn thing grow another couple of inches before she was through.
One added attraction to her cowboy's penis was the fact that he was uncircumcised. Despite the modern fad of cutting back the foreskin on male babies, she still preferred the uncut kind. She liked to play with the skin covering the head, to milk it back and lick on that moist, virginal underside of the meatus-and to smell the faintly offensive, strongly sexual odor of the male in heat.
"Lick on my balls a little first," he suggested, his voice a coarse husk of growing excitement. "Heat me up like that, and my prick will git as stiff as a saddle horn."
She liked the idea. Rolling her tongue out almost to the roots, she nuzzled her head deep down between his legs and found the two rounded bags of his nuts. They were firm and warm, with a whiskery thatch of hair in the center. With a salacious moan, she began to wantonly cover every inch of his testicles with the flat of her tongue. She licked them this way and that, moving them from one side to the other with the force of her lapping strokes, covering them with the warm wetness of her saliva until they were swollen and tingling.
The effect of having his balls licked did wonders for his Titan cock. It was standing up straight and hard, the big head half-uncovered to show the deep-pink color of the meatus.
"Reminds me of an old mule-type boy I knowed back in Texas," he was whispering, his voice barely audible above the slurping swipes of her tongue. "He was a trucker, too. And he was plain crazy about having his balls licked on. Damn fool fella just couldn't git enough of it. He got himself one of them little French poodles and trained it to lap on his nuts for hours at a time. Told me that he used to take that pooch along with him on his cross-country trips. Told me that once that hot-tongued little bitch dog licked on his balls all the way from Houston to Oklahoma City, without ever once coming up for breath. Made me wonder if a real female French gal was the same way..."
Rita didn't come up for air, either. She didn't want to! The more she licked on his swollen sperm-bags, the hotter she knew she was getting him. And she had every intention of making this prime piece of Texas beef fuck her with that jumbo cock. She wanted it hogged into her wide-open cunt until those same balls were hugging the lips of her pussy-and that king-sized head was crammed up her womb. And if that meant sucking his horny rod half the day, she'd do it!
"Yeah, feels good," he rasped. "Now, lick some on my peter. And turn your cute ass around to me so I can feel you up with my fingers."
She scooted around so fast that her hips bumped hard against the back of the seat.
While her tongue slathered up and down the rigid column of his huge prick, he rolled her dress up over the mounds of her naked buttocks and began to tickle the hair on her cunt with one finger.
She wriggling her butt in his face like a duck, and his finger poked at the white-hot center of her pussy, teasing in and out of the tender inner lips while his thumb rubbed at her hardening clitoris.
With a groan of lust she ovaled her mouth over the head of his stiff cock and began to suck it greedily. She wrapped her velvety tongue around the bulb of meat and rode his husky rod halfway down her throat. She came up with tears in her eyes, then went down on him again, this time taking three or four more inches in her gulping, sucking need.
As his enormous cock twitched happily in her mouth, he worked his finger up her doughy cunt to the second knuckle, and between tickling her firm clit with his thumb and scratching her pussy hair with his other fingers he began to finger-fuck her with a slow but solid rhythm.
"Suck it," he breathed. "Yeah, eat that big thing off, baby!"
With a deep grunt of pleasure, she clasped both hands around the thick base of his lumbering cock and began to wildly lick it like a big bar of honey. She could feel the large veins in the sides of his penis expanding and throbbing, and that excited her to a pitch of passion. While his finger plunged deliciously in and out of her palpitating pussy, she moved her hips in a rocking motion that gave her a sharper feeling of actually being screwed.
It was the maddest kind of perverted sex she had experienced in years, and it brought back the obscene fun of having played her mouth around all those cute, oversexed college boys. She had almost forgotten the taste of male sperm shooting in hot gluts into her mouth, but she knew that much more of the kind of carnal cocksucking she was giving the cowboy and he would fill her lungs with his nectar.
As his orgasm began to build, starting at the center of his throbbing nuts and working up the hefty length of his tongue-teased column, he lost interest in merely fingering her blazing twat and pulled her gaping hole right up over his mouth.
With a subdued shriek of lusty joy, she felt his hard tongue driving solidly up into the tunnel of her slit. The silken folds of her tormented pussy began to clasp the root of his tongue to hold him tight inside while he lapped the wetted walls of her gash.
She went down on him over and over right to his balls, loving the way her throat was packed with every inch of his cock, mad about the feel of his thick pubic hair filling her nose and bearding her lips!
"EAT IT!" he croaked, pulling his chewing mouth away from her dripping cunt for a second. "Empty my hot balls! SUCK 'EM DIRTY!"
It was the prelude to his shooting her mouth full of cum, she knew, and to make it as much fun as possible for both of them she choked down the full nine inches of his gigantic prick and began to massage his balls with both hands.
It was the kind of blowjob every cowboy dreams about, and he pulled the cheeks of her burning ass wide apart and buried his mouth and nose deep into the hairy maw of her cunt as his balls began to explode.
The massive explosions of hot sperm down her throat made her gag and groan.
Each heavy spurt from his finger-squeezed balls made her cheeks bloat out like an adder's, but she hungrily swallowed every horny drop of his juice, and lapped with her tongue to coax more out of him.
She had not quite reached an orgasm herself, although his fat tongue was solidly up her frothing cunt and working like a piston. But she was still only on the verge of really getting her rocks off when his big prick melted in her mouth like cotton candy, and he pulled his tongue out of her with a plop.
To her dismay, what had been a tower of hard flesh in her throat only seconds before was now turning as soft as baker's dough. And all she had to remember of the suckable treat was a throatful of spermy broth.
She let his fading hard-on slop reluctantly from between her lips, then began to kiss and lick the flat hardness of his stomach. She worked her way up, moving her head from left to right as she trailed her seething tongue up over his chest. She loved the flushed, satisfied male smell of his body, and her supple tongue found each of his coin-flat male nipples and teased and licked them until they were warm and wet. But he was sucked out.
"Whoa there, honey," he breathed huskily. "What you need is a fresh team of stud horses."
She was still on all fours, with her buttocks lifted, her widened, unsatisfied pussy still gleaming with the probing efforts of his tongue.
"What I need," she crooned desperately, "I just swallowed!"
He laughed softly. "Don't you worry about that. You play your cards right, and you can have more peter-oil pumped up your cunt than a Mexican whore in a bunkhouse."
"And just how-"
"Us truckers stick together. You remember me hangin' my hat on that radio wire."
"Uh-huh."
"That was a signal for us truckers. Means there's a free piece of ass in the truck if they've got time to stop for it."
"You mean--? "
"Average is usually four to six-old-boys. They come ridin' down the highway with their nuts full and their cocks stiff as steer horns, see the signal, and pull off for some fun. Course now, it's all up to you. Nobody gits fucked that don't want fucked. Which side of the fence are you on right now?"
A wanton grin spilled all the way up to her ear lobes. "I need a trucker," she purred, feeling the deepest cunt-itch yet at the thought of being serviced right then and there by as many strange pricks as might come along. "If you're sure it's safe ... that my husband-"
"Hell, honey, us truckers has got that all worked out. One stands guard kind-of while the other crawls up in the cab and works off his problem. Couldn't be safer if you were double-locked in a room of one of them imagine motels."
At that very moment, they both heard the hiss and whine of another huge truck pulling off into the rest area.
The cowboy winked at her. "There's your first customer, if you want it."
"Send him up!"
While the cowboy hitched up his jeans and stuffed his monstrous, but softened, cock back into his shorts, Rita began to slip out of her dress. She wanted her tits free. During all that lovely prick-eating, her nipples had shot out like thumbs, and the next time around, she wanted them sucked!
By the time the Texan had worked his booted way back over the seats to get out of the cab, Rita was naked as sin. Her body was burning all over, her flesh prickly with expectation. It was such a deliciously naughty way to have sex, she kept telling herself, that she might do it every weekend. And she'd be damned if she would clue Mr. Paul-or anybody else-in on the lusty gold mine she had stumbled onto.
In seconds, the cab of the door opened again and a new face appeared over the top of the seats. This one was even younger than the cowboy, and his eyes were sparkling with a mixture of sensual need and rank impatience. His blonde hair was spilling down over his eyes from under a cap.
"The name's Ray, ma'am, and I understand you're in the market for a good time."
Halflying in the bunk bed, naked as a peach, her tits swollen and pointing and her lascivious pussy throbbing like a rabbit's foot, she could only grin back at him like a Japanese wind-up sex doll!
Proper or not, the invitation was all he needed. He climbed over the seats and unzipped his fly with one hand. To show him she meant business, she reached inside his shorts and pulled his already stiff prick lecherously out of his pants. It was a healthy handful!
"Pull up your legs, baby," he husked. "I got to be in Chicago by eight o'clock tonight, so let's see just how much old-fashioned fucking we can do in the next fifteen minutes!"
It was the kind of time-schedule following she could learn to love!
With the first rapid thrust of his hips he had his rigid young cock deep into her yielding cunt. He bucked his thighs once or twice more until the head of his rogue rod was almost touching the mouth of her womb; then he began to fuck her with powerful strokes, sending a million lewd thrills through her loins.
She grabbed his arms and held on for dear life as he balled her without letup. Her randy pussy was already primed for a good coming, and after only a few dozen delicious drives of his stiffened meat she threw her head back, opened her mouth wide, and flooded his balls with a gush of juice. He obviously liked a hot woman, loved making one come so good and fast, and with a grunt of greedy lust he began fucking her faster and harder!
She came three times before he spurted her slit full of his truck driving sperm. Then he lay panting for a few seconds over her, kissed each rigid nipple of her panting tits, and crawled off.
Next, she thought, and for God's sake let's pray for a tit-sucker!
She didn't have long to wait for answered prayers.
Almost before the big cab door slammed shut, it opened again and a leering face peered at her over the top of the seats.
"I'm Joe," the mature, craggy-handsome face said, grinning.
She grinned right back, and this time she had a voice up to the occasion. "Crawl on back," she crooned, "and help yourself!"
This one turned out to be big, all over. He was hairy as a nest of tarantulas, but at least he took time to take his pants off-and time to play a few minutes with her slack pussy while she worked his hairy, powerfully thick and long prick up into a stony pole of power.
She was on the verge of begging him to pinch and suck her tits when he covered one of them with the hottest mouth on the road. While her pleasured nipple grew enormously fat and pointing under the leathery suckings of his tongue, she felt her legs being pushed apart so that his corpulent cock could fill her hole.
It was very fine fucking, and by the time he sent his hot gushes of sperm blasting up toward her liver, her well-chewed titties were rounded and horned!
Then came one named Chuck-a twenty-six-year-old stud who whispered the wildest, sickest, sexiest things in her burning ears while he pumped her sodden cunt with eight inches of bone-hard cock.
Then a little shrimp named Henry, who spooked her a bit until he lowered his pants. Good things come in small packages! Henry had one even bigger than the cowboy, and a whole helluva lot longer. With her smooth, nude legs wrapped around his bouncing butt she made him fuck her three times without stopping. At the end of it, she had to help him back over the seats!
Then there was one on his way to Iowa, named Billy.
One heading toward California named Tim-oversexed to the point of wanting to jack off in her mouth while she fingered his ass-hole and pulled at his balls like bell-tongues.
Then she lost count. She didn't give a damn any more about names, or even faces. It was how much they had between their legs, how good they were at making her creamy, maddened cunt juice off, and how well they could work on her stiffened tits with their tongues.
And it seemed forever before the cowboy appeared again.
"Ain't you fucked out yet?" he drawled, looking at her with both admiration and amazement over the top of the seats, his cowboy hat pushed back to his hairline.
"Not until you do it to me," she managed, moving her sleek, still-hot legs together so that the bruised folds of her unsated pussy sent fresh, erotic ripples of prick-need up toward her womb.
"That's right," he said, smiling. "I reckon I ain't done my duty by you yet. So why don't you pile into your clothes again and come on down outside?"
"What for?" she demanded. "Don't tell me you're going to ball me on the fender of this damn thing!"
"You'll see, honey."
She was really past giving too much of a damn at this point, she decided. All she knew was she wanted what the cowboy had. It would be the end of a fabulous experience to have that handsome young stud working his ass off between her legs-and the kind of figurative and literal climax that would make her girl friends green with envy when she told about it next Saturday!
She got into her clothes and climbed down out of the truck.
The cowboy wasn't alone-either that, or she was seeing double.
"Ma'am, this here is Bo Jones. From Dallas. And that's his truck over there."
She didn't have to be hit over the head to get the message. Bo's big truck was a furniture-moving truck, and that meant that some place inside of it was a bed!
"Pleased to meet you, ma'am," the second cute cowboy named Bo said. "Yawl wanta go fuck in my truck?"
Bo turned out to be another one of those mule-type boys: long-legged, long-eared, and long-cocked!
The inside of the truck was dark and hot, but with their clothes off the steamy sweat of their bodies only added to the erotic flavor of their screwing.
Her favorite cowboy, the one she had picked up at the drive-in, fucked her first. His overfed, tongue-tested cock had regained every hard inch of its original virility, and while he groaned and humped between her flared thighs she played a delicious little game with Bo. While the Dallas stud squatted over her face, his balls hanging down like forbidden fruits, she licked and tongued everything in sight.
The borrowed bed inside the truck got the kind of workout that borrowed beds are meant to get-in or out of hotels. They screwed her a couple of times apiece; then Bo did the gentlemanly thing to her while she gave the other one a final blowjob. Bo ate her, with both of his hands dug so deep into the simmering mounds of her buttocks that he was touching bone.
She joined their exclusive club when she spasmed-kicking like a mule against Bo's nice mouth.
7
By the middle of the week Mary Carter was as horny again as a whore in the middle of a Marine boot camp.
The escapade with the young swimming pool stud had certainly taken the edge off of her sex hunger for a few days, but now it seemed like ancient, if glorious, history, and the same old lewd itch was tickling the deepest corners of her mature cunt.
"Dammit," she whispered to herself in the middle of her Wednesday morning bath, "I don't see any reason on earth for not having another lovely little fling. If I can get away with screwing a strange young stud in my own house, I can certainly get away with doing it away from home."
Yes, but where away from home? she wondered.
She knew she could always call the same plumber that Jill had called, except that she was afraid to risk romping and screwing in her bedroom again. Her husband Frank had a distasteful little habit of running home at any time the spirit moved him. And she had already tempted the fates once and gotten away with it.
Nope, this time she'd go out on the prowl.
While she was still soaking in the tub and pondering the weighty problem of finding a blue-collar male to ease her itch, the imitation-antique French gold phone by the tub jangled tunefully.
"Yes? Yes, this is Mrs. Carter-he wants what?"
It was her husband's secretary, asking her to please drop by the office with the blueprints for the Higgens home. She was told she would find them in the top left drawer of her husband's desk in his study. And, oh, would she mind waiting around the office a few minutes until her husband could check something on the original blueprints-and then would she mind running the second copy of the blueprints out to the construction site and giving them to the head foreman?
"Does he want me to take a spade along, too?" she asked acidly, seeing this interruption as something that would keep her from following her own blueprints for finding sex.
And then, in the middle of her faint irritation, a carnal grin worked her mouth upward.
"Tell my husband I'll be glad to do as he asks," she purred into the phone.
When she clicked the receiver back into place, her grin was still wide and wanton.
"What better place to find myself the kind of rugged, pussy-hungry, muscle-bound young stud than a construction site?" she breathed happily.
She hopped mermaid-like out of the soapy tub and began to towel her voluptuous, ripe body until her skin was rosy and gleaming. She drenched herself with an expensive perfume, touching generous amounts to the peak of each firm nipple, then poured herself into the prettiest dress she could find. She wanted to look sexy-but not too damned sexy. She didn't want Frank to suspect that she had fornicating on her mind, and yet she wanted to be the kind of whistle-bait that healthy young males yearn to paw.
She found the blueprints and roared off to Frank's downtown office, her heart pounding like a virgin on her first date.
She knew she had passed the clothes test when her husband's snotty secretary barely gave her a glance-while the sixteen-year-old office boy practically got a hard-on when she pranced past him. He was a cute little trick, too, she realized, and it frightened her a bit to think what she was thinking. She wondered just how much fun it would be to get locked in a cheap motel with a teen-aged boy like that. Probably be like Christmas and the Fourth of July rolled into one continuous round of mad fucking, that was what!
She found Frank and gave him the blueprints. He barely gave her more than a peck on her cheek, and she sat on his leather office sofa and smoked a cigarette until he was finished checking whatever it was he had to check.
"Thanks, hon," he said as he handed the blueprints back to her. "You sure you don't mind running these out to Bill, the foreman at the Higgens place?"
"No trouble at all."
"That's a good sport."
"Oh ... uh ... how will I know which one is Bill?"
Her husband shrugged. "Easy. He's the only one out there. We stopped construction yesterday until we could get a few snags ironed out. Bill is out there by himself this morning. You can't miss him-big guy with shoulders like a pro footballer, curly blonde hair, and as nice a guy as you'll ever hope to meet."
Music to her ears!
She tried to keep the stinging tingle of excitement from showing in her face as she left the office and rode the elevator back down to the street. It was only as she was winding her way swiftly out to the suburban section of the city where the Higgens house was being built that the weakness of her little plan clanked into her brain.
"Making Frank's own foreman is risky," she breathed. "About as risky as trying to seduce his brother, if he had one. He sounds awfully tasty and built for sex, but how do I know he won't talk his fool head off about it?"
She wondered if maybe the office boy wouldn't be a better bet after all.
She would have backed out, she told herself, but she did have the blueprints to deliver. And at least she would be able to cruise a nice hunk of man-even if she couldn't work up the nerve to rub her shank against his crotch!
The Higgens house was one of the big ones, in a very exclusive section of a new development called Hideaway Hills, a half-wooded, half-landscaped area where only the topnotch of Frank's clients could afford to build.
She had no trouble finding the construction site because of the big orange bulldozers and cement trucks parked at crazy angles behind the trees. And off to the left, half-hidden by billowy clumps of thick bushes, was the foreman's trailer house. It was the custom for the foreman to actually live out on the site until the major part of the work was done. That way, he could serve as night watchman as well as supervisor of construction.
But the nicest part about the young men who served in the capacity of foreman, Mary knew, was the fact that they were usually bachelors. They were almost always young engineers fresh out of college, trying to get established with a big firm, and she had no doubt that this one named Bill was as typical as they came. Not that any of it was going to do her any good.
She drove up beside the trailer and parked. Then, with blueprints in hand, she strode around to the side door. She was both surprised and disappointed to see a note taped on the door, a note addressed to her in a heavy, masculine scrawl. She took it off the door and read it, aloud:
"Please leave the blueprints inside the trailer on my desk, Mrs. Carter. I had to run on a little errand and Fm afraid I won't be back for a couple of hours. Hope you don't mind. Bill Walker."
She frowned and stuffed the note into the pocket of her dress. He would never know just how much she did mind!
Sighing, she yanked open the door of the trailer and climbed up inside.
The interior of the house-on-wheels was a mess, typically a bachelor male's lair. In one glance she saw the sofa piled high with dirty clothes, the floor strewn with boots and shoes and socks, the little kitchenette with dishes towering in the sink.
And then she saw the screen and projector.
"Hmmmm," she breathed softly, "I wonder if I'm letting my imagination run away with me, or if ... "
There was only one way to find out. She put down the blueprints on the cluttered desk, then sneaked over to the projector. One film was still threaded in the machine, and a dozen or more were stacked up beside it. like a naughty child dipping her hand into a cookie jar, she picked up one of the fat wheels of film and glanced at the title:
BACK ALLEY BITCH.
She felt a little salacious thump of excitement deep in her loins as she snatched up a second roll. THE SCREW DRIVERS.
"Lordy," she crooned, smiling at the obscene titles, "so this is how bachelors get their kicks-watching smutty movies!"
With trembling fingers she went through the whole stack of porno films, and each title seemed hotter and lustier than the one before:
LEWD AND LOVELY; TWO BAGS FULL; STUD FREAK MEETS SLITTY CLITTY; THE ALL-NIGHT COMERS!
By the time she had pawed through the prurient stack of stag movies her blood was churning in her veins.
She had never seen a fuck movie before, and she was dying of curiosity.
With her heart thumping like a drum, she leaned over and read the title of the one on the projector:
BALLING THE JACKS!
"That one's got to be about sailors," she purred hotly. "And I wish I had the nerve to..."
She decided it wasn't nerve she needed, but time. Without bothering to weigh the danger of the notion, she grabbed the note back out of her pocket and read it again. He wouldn't be back to his trailer for two whole hours.
She felt another little surge of spicy excitement playing at the fattening lips of her pussy. Just the thought of what erotic images lay waiting on that roll of film on the projector was enough to make her juices start running. It might be the one and only time in her life that she would have the opportunity to look at a dirty movie, and by God, she didn't intend to be denied it!
Thinking exactly like a thief, she locked the door of the trailer from inside-just in case-then she closed the curtains on the side window to make it a wee bit darker. She knew something about projectors, having run them at several of her women's clubs' meetings, and she was relieved to see that this particular one didn't involve sound. And a silent smut movie is what I need, she reasoned, because that way I can hear his car if and when he drives up. She further reasoned that she would have plenty of time to shut off the projector, unlock the door, and pretend that she had just stepped in and was just stepping out of the trailer. A perfect little crime.
With her lips in a set smile, and the curves of her cheeks blushing coral with raw anticipation, she flipped the switches on the small projector, then raced to the sofa in order to have a prime seat for the pornographic spectacle. She watched with her eyes widening as the first scene came alive before her in pure, rich color.
The opening shot was of a girl sitting stark-naked in front of her bureau. She was putting on a fire-engine-red shade of lipstick, but the camera was obviously more interested in letting the viewer see her tits. They were very large and very firm, and apparently the make-up artist for the filthy flick had seen to it that each of her bulky nipples had been touched up with rouge. They looked cherry-pink and very inviting.
"I'll bet that cute young bastard gets a hard-on every night just looking at those big boobs," Mary breathed, feeling the nipples of her own ample tits beginning to harden. "And how I wish I could be around to let him take out his oral urges on mine!"
The camera followed the pretty young girl as she got up from the bureau and strolled across to the bed. Nothing was missed of her bouncing, nude buttocks, and as she stood before the bed selecting her panties and stocking, the licentious camera lens poked slyly up between her legs for a colored close-up of her cunt.
Although Mary had never in her life had the least desire for Lesbian contact with another female, the erogenous way in which the camera was revealing the puckered, tender folds of the girl's labia, the mossy ringlets of hair tufting the outer lips of her pubescent mounds, made Mary's deeper hunger for sex almost a male's need. No wonder a man-likes to run his tongue up into something soft and hot like that, she decided. I could almost eat a young girl's pussy myself!
The girl in the movie finally put on a pair of panties designed for screwing. They were black and lacy, and the front of them was cut open so that all of her cunt was exposed. Then, to add to the shameless picture of indecent exposure, she slid her legs into a pair of sheer black stockings that barely snapped at the sides of the panties. She seemed to be undressing, instead of dressing!
Then in the same old corny way that the legitimate silent movies of Hollywood used to do, the girl put her hand to her ear to indicate that somebody was knocking at the door. So, with no bra to hold back or hide her beautiful big tits, and with her cunny in plain sight despite the gesture of having put on panties, the girl walked boldly to the door of the room and opened it.
Three grinning sailors came into the room.
At the sight of the cute young studs, who were quite obviously involved in the plot of the movie for one purpose only, Mary's already heating slit began to simmer and throb.
The camera played over the grinning, handsome faces of the three young gobs. They all looked like the boy-next-door type, clean-cut and healthy, and just for variety's sake one of them was tall, one short and muscular, and one just damned nice and slim-waisted.
Without a lot of silly to-do about introductions, the girl moved from one willing sailor to the next, feeling their pricks.
The camera followed her lewd trail, coming in for good close-ups each time her fingers squeezed the growing lumps in the already tight pants of the three able seamen.
Mary felt the meaty lips of her pussy opening hotly as the sailors allowed the girl to tease their cocks hard. Each rub and stroke of the girl's wanton fingers made the sheathed pricks stiffen and push out until they were outlined from head to balls. And all three of them seemed to have horse-sized dongs, the kind of seagoing cocksmen that can make getting shipwrecked on a lonely island the answer to an old maid's prayers.
The girl was getting hot and bothered herself from feeling the promising trio of sailorly hard-ons, and without so much as a blush she unbuttoned the pants of the tall sailor and hauled out his large prick. It looked like a python in her small hands, and the camera gave the viewer an obliging close-up of the way she was stimulating the big cock by squeezing it lightly between her fingers from the hairy root to the bursting head.
Then, when she had the lucky sailor's penis standing out from between his legs as hard as a wagon tongue, she knelt in front of him and closed her lovely red lips gently over the enormous head of it.
"God..." Mary moaned, watching intently as the girl slowly and hungrily sucked on the cute sailor's oversized prick. The already jumbo peter seemed to grow even larger and longer as the warm mouth of the beautiful girl slid back and forth over the length of it. The camera moved in for a mercilessly detailed view of the thick veins along the side of the stiff dick, showing the way the size of it puffed out the cheeks of the sucking girl and showing the wet trails of her saliva that was wetting even his pubic hair.
Mary couldn't stand to watch any more of such lusty stuff without soothing the mad itch that was eating away just inside her own cunt. With a savage need to get at her itch, she pulled her panties down to her ankles, hoisted one foot lewdly up on the sofa, and began to finger her velvety pussy with a dreamy in-and-out motion. Each time she pushed, she felt her finger worming a bit deeper into the slack folds of her twat, and sliding back out a whole lot wetter.
The business on the movie screen was just getting into high gear. While the girl had been servicing the tall sailor with her mouth, the other two young mariners had been moved to take off their clothes. And now the camera was showing the quartet engaged in very pleasurable poses indeed. The tall sailor was getting to the end of his capacity to hold back his sperm, and he was showing it in the most honest way possible. He was bluntly fucking the willing mouth of his pretty helper, driving his enormous prick down her throat with every horny thrust.
While the girl was getting her windpipe reamed, the muscular sailor was on his hands and knees having fun with her buttocks and cunt. By lying on his back and forcing her to squat on his face, he was eating her frothy slit for all he, she, and it were worth! And to facilitate getting his tongue as far up her pussy as nature would allow, he had both his hands cupped deep into the smooth flesh of her ass-cheeks, like a hungry boy eating a juicy watermelon.
The third sailor, his jocko prick as hard as bronze, was sucking on her tits, going from one to the other until her nipples were pointing out like duck-bills, beet-red and gleaming.
Mary's finger worked faster and faster in the sappy hotness of her starved cunt. She could feel her clitoris growing up through the folds of her labia like a fang-wet, red, erected. With each yearning wriggle of her finger, she let out a little gasping grunt of lust. Christ, what she wouldn't give for a prick right now-for just one of those well-hung swabbie to crawl on her fiery thighs and fuck her crazy!
As if in answer to her pagan passions, she heard a muffled groan of male arousal.
The closet door on the far side of the small trailer sagged open in front of her horrified, titillated stare-and out staggered the biggest, broadest-shouldered blonde she had ever seen.
And what he had swinging between his naked legs was made for the movies!
8
She knew who the big, buck-naked blonde was, and she also knew that she had been tricked.
But there she was, sprawled on his sofa with her finger up her cunt and his pornographic movie whirring like hell in front of her. There was damned little reason for pretending she was either shocked or sorry.
"Well," she wheezed, blushing with both pleasure and shame, "I suppose it's a little late for introductions."
The handsome foreman's eyes were dancing at the center of her charms, and his big prick was standing up stiff between his legs, pointing at her like a traffic cop's arm.
"Jesus, Mrs. Carter, I hope you're not mad about this," he stammered, a nervous but lusty grin twitching at the edges of his mouth. "You could sure as the devil get me sacked for pulling an adolescent stunt like tempting you with a dirty flick."
Her own lips were struggling to hold back her happy grin. "It was pretty mean of you to hide like that, and a little dumb."
He blushed again. "Yeah, I guess I..."
"Dumb to hide that big equipment, that is," she interrupted. "Lord, honey, I'll bet the girls you know beg on their hands and knees for some of what you've got."
He grinned from ear to ear again, and she had her eyes on his big pole of meat as it throbbed under her praises.
"Believe me," he husked, "I intended just to stay hidden in there. You know, just a little innocent looking, but when I saw what you were doing I guess I got so damned excited that I practically fell through the door."
"That's nice," she purred, keeping her eyes riveted to the huge prick that was making her cunt begin to water.
He was still standing well away from her, and that was giving her the chance to drink in every inch of his body. She had to happily admit that her husband's description of Bill Walker was right on the button. He looked like a husky young football player in a locker room-minus his jock strap!
"You ... uh ... don't intend to tell your husband, I hope," he said hopefully.
A wicked smile scorched her face. "That depends."
"Could I ask on what?"
She took a ragged breath. "On whether you're going to stand there all day apologizing-or whether you're going to come over here and horse that big, beautiful rod of yours up between my legs."
He gulped, his blue eyes going blurred with passion. "You'll let me ... uh ... fuck you, ma'am?"
"If you don't, you lovely stud, you'll be digging ditches tomorrow!"
With a low groan of pleasure he came over the sofa, his stiff cock wagging lustily from left to right as he walked. He parked his naked butt on the sofa beside her, and one of her hands snaked out quickly to feel the mighty column of hard meat. Her mouth opened in a silent gasp of admiration as her fingers inched and teased greedily up and down the entire length of his penis. It was one of the stiffest things she'd ever touched, and the snarl of dark hair at the thick root of it made her uncontrollably horny.
"Wanta hop out of your things?" he breathed.
"You bet!"
In seconds, while he lay back on the sofa with his hands behind his head watching the erotic film grind away on the screen, she danced out of her clothes. She tossed her dress over the back of a chair, then followed the denuding process by zipping out of her panties and bra. Her tits were as firm as tropical melons by now, and the two ruddy nipples were popped out erect and suckable.
As she moved back to the sofa, he reached both of his large hands around her waist and manipulated her thighs open. He stared hard into the matrix of her cunt as she stood in front of him, legs apart, her pelvis shoved slightly out so that he could do anything he wanted.
"Goddamn, but that's a beautiful pussy," he whispered, his nostrils flaring like a healthy young animal's.
She felt her whole body tingling as his fingers inched further back to hold her warm buttocks. He patted and rubbed the full cheeks of her ass while his face moved closer and closer to the perfumed slit of her sex.
As if controlled by erotic radar, the husky young foreman pulled her eager twat so close to his mouth that she could feel the widow's peak of her cunt hair being moved by his breath. The slack folds of her heating crack opened a bit in sensual anticipation, and her brazen clit started quickly to erect, like a pink finger.
"Suck it!" she whimpered, pushing her thighs wantonly forward until his lips were nuzzling her pubes. "Tongue me, and get me hot!."
Her totally uninhibited desire to make him pleasure her was the kind of venereal invitation he had been wanting. With a growl of lust he drove his tongue into her silky pussy to the root.
"AAAHHHhhhhh...I"
She went limp with the maddening joy of having her cunt licked, and he held her by her buttocks as he slurped greedily, rolling and lapping his strong tongue in and out of the yeasty flanges of her slit.
It was the quickest, most delicious orgasm she had ever had. In only moments the long, stony tongue of her horny partner pumped her juices to the surface and she spasmed with a few muffled shrieks of joy. She pushed her thighs so hard against his face that his ears were flattened by the insides of her legs. But his tongue kept working, stroking, fucking her until the last spicy drop of her coming had been coaxed out of her cockpit.
"UUUUMMMmmmmm," she purred, sagging down over his flushed, hard body until his huge cock was digging into her tummy. "My, you do know how to make a gal feel good all over!"
His hands were roaming all over her naked body now, pinching and teasing the lifted hillocks of her ass. She could feel her bloated nipples pushing against the hair of his chest, but most of all she could feel that oversized stallion prick of his throbbing against her navel.
"I wanta fuck you, ma'am," he whispered, running one of his football-player fingers up and down the thin crease between her buttocks. "Let me make you come two or three more times, okay?"
She raised her blazing face up to his, and grinned weakly. "God, do you think you can?"
He smiled back and kissed her softly on her parted lips. "I've got one of those slow-to-come cocks myself," he promised. "Hell, I can screw all night without getting my rocks off. And I've been told that can be a real advantage to a woman who-likes to freak out on multiple orgasms."
She felt a deep kick of rutty need inside her cunt. "I'm ready any time you are," She said, grinning.
Without another word he slid his arms under her naked body and stood up. Then he turned around and placed her on the sofa so that she could watch the smutty movie while he fucked her.
"Throw one leg up over the back of the sofa," he said huskily, "and when I start putting it to you, try to slide your other leg up over my shoulder. It's the best position for fucking in the book ... besides, I like to get in all the way, right up to the balls."
She followed his directions to the letter, feeling very lewd and whorish as her hoisted leg made the well-eaten lips of her cunt flare wide-open. Then, to tease her into the final urge to be madly fucked, he used his king-sized hands to massage and stroke her tits until the nipples were bursting with pleasure and throbbing a deep, dark red.
"Let's ball our asses off," he groaned.
He crawled deep into the splay of her thighs and forced the big, dry head of his prick snugly between the cuntal folds of her pussy.
Little dancing devils of lust told her that for all of the young foreman's sexy appetites, he was somewhat inexperienced when it came to screwing ripe pussy. Obviously, most of his balling had been done with younger women-females who might be a tiny bit apprehensive about having his enormous cock shoved all at once up their tender twats.
Did she have news for him!
"Fuck it in!" she snarled gently. "Don't be afraid you're going to hurt me-ram that gorgeous rod up me like I was a two-bit whore!"
Her blazing words singed his ears, and he flushed a deep pink with pleasure.
"You sure you want me to-"
"Right up to your balls, buster!"
With a snort of joy he lifted his husky buttocks and plunged his ponderous cock madly up her cunt. She felt the walls of her slit rolling back to accommodate the huge trowel of hot meat; and to force him into even lustier action, she crab-walked her leg high up over his muscular shoulder.
"Get it IN!" she snapped. "FUCK ME, YOU STUD-HORSE BASTARD!"
It was the kind of gutter language that can drive an already horny male crazy with passion. With an animal grunt of raw lust, he pumped his big prick into her creamy hole right to his nuts.
She almost fainted from the ecstasy of having her hungry cunt so stretched and filled with the divinely stiff prick of a handsome young man. And when he began to slowly but powerfully fuck her, she let her tongue roll slackly out of the corner of her grinning mouth.
At least twenty minutes went by before he once paused to give his pumping ass a rest. During the beautifully erotic ride he had made her come twice, and she could feel the liquids of her spasms running like sticky glue between the cheeks of her butt. Most of her pleasure had come from his constantly stiff, constantly thrusting prick-but some of it had been generated from watering the tail end of the dirty movie. It had made her hormones churn like Mexican jumping beans to watch the three sailors fuck the lucky movie queen on the screen while her own flaming pussy was being worked on.
"Tired?" she breathed dreamily, reaching up to pull on the lobes of his burning ears.
"Not even winded," he said. "You sure like to come, don't you? I'll bet you could take this kind of humping all night."
"And then some," she purred.
He laughed softly. "Well, ma'am, I'll do my best to fuck your hole dry."
"So giddiyup, doll!"
He was just getting back into stride when they heard the booming roar of a motorbike.
"Jesus," he groaned, "it's that little sonovabitch from the office."
She came out of her languor with a jump. "My husband?" she gasped.
"Naw. It's that little office-boy punk. He comes over here all the time to watch my fuck movies. Can't get rid of the little bastard."
A million wheels clanked hotly in her head all at once.
With a groan of irritation, the foreman pulled his big, bone-hard prick from between the clinging wet lips of her slit and began to pull on his pants.
"Just stay there, ma'am," he breathed. "I'll get rid of Bobby; then we'll-"
"I've got a better idea," she blurted shamelessly. "I'll hide in the closet, and you show him a dirty movie. I'd like to see how a sixteen-year-old boy reacts."
He was staring at her, open-mouthed. "You outta your mind! That little bastard will probably want to jack off. You wouldn't want to-"
"Watch? Oh, wouldn't I!"
The foreman blinked, blushed, and managed a half-grin. "There's maybe something else you ought to know. Bobby is ... uh ... kind of excitable at his age. You know how boys are. And I wouldn't want you to think he's a little faggot, or anything, but ... uh..."
She grinned. "Don't tell me you fuck that pretty little thing."
He blushed again. "Kind of developed into a mutual thing," he said softly. "Hell, there's nothing wrong with a little corn-hole job now and then. Let's face it, I learned to like a little ass-fucking in the Army!"
That settled it!
"Don't let me spoil the party," she crooned. "Invite him in ... and maybe I'll join you."
The good-looking foreman whistled under his breath. "Man, if your husband ever finds out that you screwed with me..."
"And you screwed with his office boy..."
"And you wanta screw around with both of us..."
"You worry too much. Let your little lover in."
She said it just in time. The office boy was already knocking lustily on the trailer door. She had only time to snatch up her clothes and disappear into the closet when the foreman unlocked the door.
From a crack in the closet door, she was able to see everything necessary. As it turned out, Bobby had brought out another set of blueprints, but she could tell by the way his youthful eyes gloated on the pile of dirty films that he had sex on his brain.
"Got a new one, Bill?" the office boy asked, his adolescent voice a cross between a boyish rasp and a manly husk.
"Uh ... you sure you want to-"
"Hell, yes. I'm hot as a firecracker. Say, is that Mrs. Carter's car out there?"
Bill Walker took only a second to dream up a good lie. "Yeah, she ran outta gas. Said she'd send somebody out for it."
"Hell, I was hoping she was here. You said you always had a yen to screw her. Boy, she looked sexy today. Made my prick get hard just looking at-"
"Yeah, well. . . uh ... you say you want to see a movie? I got one in the mail yesterday. One called, MAKING JENNY JUICE."
"Boy, that sounds like a winner."
While Bobby sprawled idly on the sofa, with a lump already beginning to show in his pants, the foreman threaded the new movie through the machine.
In the closet, Mary was having the time of her life. She had wondered how much fun it would be to play voyeur, and she knew she was about to find out! She couldn't see the movie screen from where she was, but that made it all the better. From this vantage point, she could concentrate on watching how two oversized males-one a mature man and the other a horny adolescent-manage to solve each other's problems!
The instant the movie began to grind, Bobby rolled his eyes in his head and grinned. As Mary watched, the lump in the office boy's pants grew bigger and longer, until it was pushing up against the strained buttons of his fly. To her greedy surprise, she realized that little Bobby had a man-sized cock down there.
Bill was sitting on the sofa beside him now, equally absorbed in the movie-or pretending to be-and his own mighty penis was coming alive all over again.
"Goddamn, man, I'm getting horny," Bobby groaned, rubbing the throbbing bulge in his pants. "How about you?"
Bill smiled. "like we used to say in the Army, kid, I'll try anything once."
"Wanta screw me in the butt, then?"
"My pleasure."
It wasn't exactly a prolonged seduction, but it was the kind of shortcut to joy that all males dream about. Without blinking an eye, Bobby threw off his clothes and freed the horsy young prick he was tired of hiding between his legs. The only hair on his body was a thick circle at the root of his cock, but his six-incher stuck out so stiffly that a dozen horseshoes could have been ringed along the length of it without making it droop a centimeter.
Mary watched through the crack of the closet door as Bill crawled back out of his clothes. At the sight of his monster cock she didn't know whether to pity the office boy or envy him.
An old hand at having his bunghole skewered by the husky rod of his older friend, Bobby piled on the sofa in a doggie position. He turned his trim, boyish buttocks up to the foreman and spread his legs wide. His anus looked like a dark, inviting little mouth as the foreman pushed the head of his immense peter right up to it.
"Fuck me good," the boy pleaded. "I can shoot my nuts off six feet if I'm hot enough."
As if by black magic, the pink bulb of the foreman's sizable cock disappeared into the lean ass-hole of the quivering youth. As the rest of the long prick inched slowly into the odd chasm, the boy groaned with pleasure and began slowly to jack his throbbing penis.
Mary watched, her cunt heating white-hot, as Bill Walker began to expertly fuck the yearning buttocks in front of him. Bill was turned so that she could see the muscles in the cheeks of his muscular ass bunch and slacken with each hefty thrust.
Once, while he was powerfully fucking the rosy rectum of the teen-aged boy, he looked over his shoulder toward the closet and winked.
Mary took it as her signal to literally come out of her closet.
With a deep-purring growl of female excitement, she pushed open the door and strode naked and aroused toward the sofa. Bobby was too busy loving his ass fucked to notice her at first, but when he did his eyes got as big as his butt-hole.
"Christ-almighty!" he whispered hoarsely.
Bill chuckled softly, and stopped his effortless pumping. But his cock was still buried to the balls in the steamy hotness of the office boy's cleft.
"You want a piece of real ass, fellah?" Bill asked, patting one of the lifted mounds of Bobby's butt.
The boy gulped. He didn't know whether to shit or get off the pot.
"Never mind what he wants," Mary said, grinning. "I know what I want."
It took a bit of doing-and no little amount of anatomical acrobatics-but within seconds she was on the bottom on the sofa. In that delightful position, Bobby was able to substitute her wanton pussy for his fist!
Never send a man to do a boy's job, she told herself as her husband's virile young office boy's prick plunged in and out of her clasping cunt. Her youthful fucker's passion was being spurred, of course, by the foreman's enormous cock. While Bobby was manfully screwing her, Bill was ruggedly screwing him!
Jenny wasn't the only one getting juiced!
9
Peg Barton had spent the morning shampooing her coppery red hair, and now she intended to spend the lonely afternoon getting soused on Scotch.
She knew what was bothering her, but she hated like hell to admit it to herself. She was worried, she knew, over what her girl friends might think about her refusing to go along with Mary's wild idea about having sex with a strange male from the so-called working class. No matter what any of them might privately think of her, she knew that she was no prude.
A ragged, bitter smile formed on her lip as she repeated the word "prude".
"Christ in heaven knows I'm anything but that" she breathed, uncapping the fresh bottle of expensive Scotch that she had dug out of her doctor-husband's liquor cabinet. "And if Mary only knew half of what she thinks she knows about me, she'd beg for lessons in lust!"
But her secret tinge of nymphomania was the kind of hush-hush fact that Peg had every intention of carrying with her to the grave. Even her husband Harry didn't know how much she loved to screw-although God knew he didn't bother to investigate the matter very frequently. The truth of the matter was that Peg had found a clever, stimulating, nearly satisfying substitute for the male penis. Long ago she had discovered the world of the vibrator, thanks to her last illicit lover, Georgios Kondix, the Greek professor of political science at the university. And with the magic of the dozen marvelous vibrators she owned, and kept carefully hidden from Harry, she had learned to get her kicks as much and as often as she wanted.
In fact, just thinking about what those whirring, vibrating eight, nine, and ten-inch plastic dildos could do to her lascivious pussy made her feel a little weak in the knees. But she vetoed the idea of rushing back upstairs and plugging one of them into her twat. Instead, she had elected to get as drunk as a loon on the bottle of Scotch.
She was standing now in the French Provincial living room of the big house she and Harry occupied, and with both her bare feet spaced widely apart on the Aubusson rug she was pouring herself a killing dollop of drink.
The velvety aroma of the Scotch filled her nostrils with an almost aphrodisiacal effect. The liquor was one of the two things she loved most in the world. The other thing was fucking herself listless with the vibes.
With the drink poured, she lifted it in a ghostly salute. "To you, Georgios," she breathed. "I loved that big rod of yours-and your cute brother's, I might add-but most of all I'm grateful for that wicked introduction you gave me to those fabulous electric gadgets you called Maiden Aids."
Then she downed half of the raw Scotch with one gulp, flinched, grabbed the back of a chair and choked back the merry tears in her eyes.
"Lordy, I needed that," she said.
She was not only in her bare feet, she was in her hot pants sunsuit, and she was on her way to the rock garden in the spacious, well-kept backyard of the spacious home. She had merely paused on her way to have a neat drink, but now that the first sup was worming its way warmly and invitingly down into her tummy she knew that getting a little bit drunk was still a damned good idea.
So she took the whole bottle into the backyard with her.
Her husband Harry was something of a horticulture nut, therefore the yard was his special hobby, particularly the Japanese sand garden near the back fence. She loved to go there to sun and drink, and she had a private little place just made for such indulgence. It was a mossy, soft-sanded area between the three large pools, wide enough so that she could lie down in comfort, and secluded enough so that she could sunbathe stark-naked. And she loved to feel the almost masculine fingers of Old Sol creeping over every inch of her lithe body. Sometimes she would get so horny lying nude out there that she would have to go up to her bedroom and ram her largest, longest vibrator up her gulping cunt.
When she reached the rock garden, she dropped off the little scraps of cloth from her loins and tits and reclined lazily on the sand, avoiding looking directly at the sun. The Scotch bottle was cradled snugly under one of her arms, and it felt oddly and pleasurably like a very huge prick.
She grinned, remembering the last time in the motel with Georgios the Greek, and how she had indulged him in one of his many erotic whims. He loved to have her touch his big, hairy cock with the tips of her nipples, or hold the column of it under her armpit or between the bend of her legs. There was something about such unusual skin contacts, he had told her, that made him lusty as a bull.
A slow, carnal smile spread across her face as the sun warmed her body, and as she began to replay her memory tapes regarding that last, wild night in the motel with Georgios, his handsome young brother Nikos, and the slutty barmaid wife of Nikos named Angel.
It had been a perfect night for sneaking out on Harry. As usual, he had a million things to do at the hospital, and also as usual he had left her to her own devices. If he had known that her devices for that particular evening included checking into a cheap motel and fucking like hell, she wondered what Harry might have done. Probably nothing, she thought. Probably that unsexy hubby of mine would have just gone and jerked out a couple more appendixes!
At any rate, the evening had been both the figurative and literal climax of her affair with Georgios. She had known even before going to the motel that she was going to have to stop the nonsense, that she was growing entirely too fond and dependent on his enormous nine-inch penis, and that if she felt his hairy fingers toying much more with her throbbing cunt she'd be his slave for life.
And life with Harry, sex or no sex, was too damned comfortable to give up.
But the motel ... ah, that last mad night in the motel...
Georgios always met her at the motel, rather than take the chance of being seen picking her up. After all, he was married, too-with ten kids-and he had often told her that if his very orthodox wife had caught him screwing around she would have chopped his balls off with a cleaver.
"What a waste that would be," she had grinningly told him. And her remark was meant to suggest that no stable of virile studs in the world could have produced a pair of bigger, hotter, hairier testicles than Georgios swung under the root of that horse-cock of his.
So the last night was the same as all the other nights they had fornicated in a motel room. She drove to the motel and parked her car out of sight behind one of the units, then hurried to the numbered room which Georgios had telephoned her to meet him in.
He had opened the motel door in his bathrobe, his hairy chest sticking up out of the V-neck like a fox tail.
"Come in, honey ... somebody I want you to meet."
That had thrown her a little. "Company?" she wheezed. "Look, Georgios, I can come back if you-"
"Naw, naw. Come in. It's only my little brother Nikos, and his sweet little wife."
The sweet little wife turned out to be a gum-chewing, hard-eyed, evil-looking little blonde bitch with a ton of make-up on her face and her dress hitched up almost to her panties.
But little brother Nikos was something else.
She found herself shaking hands with a beautiful, six-foot Greek god of about twenty-four. Even with his clothes on she could visualize what kind of body Nikos had ... And the thought that he might be equipped for screwing as well as Georgios made her hormones jump like mercury under a flame.
"Little Nikos and his wife Angel thought it might be fun to have a little party," Georgios said casually.
She glanced from the hard-eyed, smirking face of the slutty young blonde into the beautiful dark eyes of the young Greek athlete beside Georgios and felt her blood begin to boil in her thighs.
"Uh ... what kind of party, Georgios?" she managed, not able to drag her eyes away from the smiling Nikos.
"Sex party, what else, honey? Nikos here is mad to fuck you, and I'll have to confess to you that I'm wanting so bad to put my big cock into Angel's spice-box that my balls are hurting."
Astonished at the blunt language, she stared again at Nikos, and saw that he had not even changed expressions.
Georgios laughed. "Don't worry about little Nikos. He doesn't understand a word of English. He's fresh off the boat, as you Americans say. But I can assure you, that boy knows what to do with what the gods gave him, and if he hasn't already caught on to what we have in mind, all you have to do is show him."
Vd like to show him for about a month, she thought.
"And don't worry about me, either, sweetie," the blonde said from where she was perched lewdly on the corner of one of the sagging motel beds. "I dig watching somebody screw him. It wouldn't be the first time, and I don't intend for it to be the last. Life is too short not to shop and swap a little."
Georgios chuckled huskily again, and winked at the eager wife of his brother. "Angel is dying for me to pleasure her," he admitted arrogantly. "I saw it in her eyes the first time she looked at me-I saw her wondering just how it would be to have the prick of her husband's brother flavoring the deep and perfumed well of her essence."
"You're a poetic bastard," Angel said, grinning, "but can you fuck, honey?"
"Ah, fuck," Nikos suddenly said, recognizing at least one word in English.
"There's your cue, my dear," Georgios said to Peg. "That is, of course, if you are not still too puritanical."
Peg grinned right back at him. "Listen, if I was Joan of Arc I wouldn't pass this up!" And to indicate what she meant, she raked her eyes from Nikos' toes to his head of thick, black curly hair.
"Then you and Nikos take one bed, and Angel and I will take the other," Georgios said happily.
"And is the twain going to meet?" Peg asked.
"Of course. When and if we exhaust the possibilities of a two-and-two approach, there is always the mathematical miracle of three-on-one."
"Hope I'm the one," Angel purred, grinning.
Peg remembered thinking that it was her first time to do anything quite this wild. But when in the hands of Greeks, go Greek!
Maneuvering Nikos over to the second bed had been about as difficult as falling off a log. If he didn't know the language of English, he certainly knew his body language. No sooner had she pulled him down beside her than his hands were squeezing her tits and working the buttons loose on her blouse.
She was shivering with excitement as he undressed her, and to hurry up the nice things that were about to happen to her, she unzipped his pants and dug inside for his rammer.
As Georgios had promised, the gods had been very good indeed to his cute young brother. His cock was so big that Peg found herself using both hands to pull it out of his fly.
"Lord, I'll bet the isles of Greek won't be the same without you," she crooned, letting her fingertips play up and down the quickly stiffening pole of meat.
"Fuck?" he asked her, grinning.
"That's one word I'm glad you know," she said weakly.
He had her blouse and bra off now, and his large, strong-fingered hands were mauling her tits and tweaking the blunted, deeply reddening nipples.
Such stubbornly goal-oriented foreplay was making her as hot as hell, and as his beautiful mouth tried to close over the pointing cone of one tit she pushed him gently away.
"Let's do this right," she breathed. "Shuck out of your clothes, Mister Stud. I want all of that body of yours."
He seemed to understand, and they both stood up and piled out of their things in jig time. Peg managed a few heated glances at the other bed while she was pulling off her panties, and the view was well worth the effort. Both Georgios and
Angel were already naked, and the big Greek was vainly going through his first efforts to horse his oversized cock into the puffed lips of the willing girl.
Fortunately for Peg, Nikos didn't seem at all interested or concerned that his sexy bride was having her cunt tested by his older brother. He had a cunt to test of his own!
Peg almost passed out when she saw her new stud in the buff. His body matched his face. He had the kind of perfectly muscled, ivory-smooth, gloriously masculine body that the old statue-makers of Ancient Greece had busted their nuts to sculpt!
Except that it would have taken a bushel basket of fig leaves to cover what he was showing.
"God-screw me with that!" Peg hummed, rolling back on the creaking motel bed and throwing her legs whorishly apart.
Nikos was more than up to the occasion. With his handsome face flushing with a rising torrent of lust, he crawled on top of her and began to chew the swollen tips of her breasts. His mouth was like a suction cup, and when he moved from one bursting nipple to the next, he left the budded flesh quivering and pointing and gleaming with the hot juices of his tongue.
Peg moaned and thrashed under the delicious suckings of his mouth, but it was her throbbing cunt that needed attending to. Each time the strong, spongy head of his prick brushed against the fringe of her pubic hair she dog-bucked her loins up toward him.
"Fuck me, you big-cocked bastard!" she panted, bringing both her hands up to dig her fingernails savagely into the smooth biceps of his arms. "I need it now-NOW!"
Despite the way the hungry lips of her pussy were flaring back to welcome his husky prick, when it came she let out a moan of pain. His cock was almost too big for her, and so iron-hard from root to tip that it was like having a baseball bat shoved between her legs!
"UUUMMMPPH! AH! AAHHHhhhhh!"
She grunted and sighed as he rode his mighty cunt-stretcher roughly, brutally up to her womb. But the second she felt the big head of it square against her cervix and his warm balls pressed hard against the fluted mouth of her sex, she turned into a she-devil of lust.
"Yes ... yes ... GOOD ... fuck me ... Oh, fuck and fuck and FUCK!"
The only word the young stud knew made his lips pull back in a horny grin, and with a soft panting noise through his flared nostrils he began to pump his naked buttocks up and down in the saddle of her thighs.
His prick was so enormously swollen and long that Peg could barely realize that it was moving inside of her, but she could certainly feel it! The pleasure of having her insatiable pussy so boldly fucked brought her to one after another of quicky orgasms, flooding the puckered bud of her ass-hole with her own juices.
Nikos seemed in no big hurry to come himself, and that made Peg hotter than ever. With the brazen greed of a nympho in heat, she wrapped her legs tightly around his trim waist and fucked back at him by pumping her loins like mad.
Being so lustily screwed from beneath soon brought her young satyr to terms. With a growl of ecstasy he let fire with both of his brimming balls and she felt a series of blasts shotgunning deep up into her cunt. He kept coming like a bull until the sperm was oozing and slurping from around the thickened lips of her hole.
When it was over, they couldn't do anything but lie panting in each other's arms, and listening to the monotonous whine of the other bedsprings. Both of them finally got enough strength back to look over at Georgios and Angel. What they saw made Nikos' big prick start hardening all over again.
Angel was screwing Georgios. He was lying half off the bed and she was hunched on top of him so that all Nikos and Peg could see were her white, girlish buttocks rising and falling on that jumbo penis. Angel was so obviously excited by the size of the cock she was fucking that the inner lips of her cunt had turned from a bright red to a deep wine color, and on each downward stroke she took so much of Georgios' prick that only his oversized balls were visible.
Not to be outdone, Nikos rolled back on top of Peg and fucked her again until his own enormous peter was shooting madly into her hot, wet cunt.
After that it was everybody's ball game.
Lying naked now in the warm sand of the Japanese garden, Peg could feel her cunny getting itching-hot all over again just recollecting how mad the rest of that evening had grown. If she had read about it in books, she told herself, she wouldn't have believed that four people could do as much to stimulate and release their erotic fantasies as the four of them had. She tried to single out certain of the more salacious images in her mind, but they all seemed to tangle lewdly and deliciously together in her drunken head. And then she realized that she was, indeed, quite drunk. All during the replaying of those debauched memories she had been constantly nipping at the bottle of Scotch, and now it was less than half full.
She smiled lecherously and moved her face to the sun. So I'm drunk, she thought, so what!
Drunk or not, she could remember that Georgios and Nikos had both fucked her at one point-one in her cunt and one in her ass-hole-while she had given Angel a gone-to-hell pussy-licking that had driven the little slut wild. And she was certainly not too intoxicated to recall sucking that big, fat prick of Georgios while Nikos ate her and Angel lapped away at the balls of her stud husband.
And who could forget when they all decided to take a shower together and Nikos wanted to soap her mouth and screw it while Angel and Georgios-
She came out of her libidinous reminiscences with a snap.
She had heard a noise, like the crunch of footsteps, and the sound drove a little sobering thrust of fear into her.
If Harry has come home to find me naked as a jay in the middle of his sand garden, she thought wildly, it'll be hell explaining that and the Scotch!
But it wasn't her husband Harry who strolled suddenly through the big back fence gate and stopped dead still only feet away from where she lay sprawled and nude.
It was the biggest, blackest garbage can collector she had ever seen!
The darky's eyes grew wide as melons in his ebony face as he gulped in the sight of her from crotch to nipple. And then his face broke into a faintly leering, decidedly friendly grin.
"Afternoon, ma'am-you'all tryin' to git yourself some dark skin?"
10
Peg knew that she would say later that it was the liquor. That old Debbil Scotch made me do it! But at that particular moment she wasn't philosophizing about the drumming itch that had been heating her depraved loins, about all that recapturing of the sexual acrobatics in the motel with Georgios and company. Huh-uh. At the moment she was only thinking how nice it would be to get madly fucked by a stranger with a black body!
And the garbage collector might well have been sent by the real devil from the yawning gates of hell.
"Wanna drink?" she chirred at the grinning Negro, holding up the half-empty bottle of Scotch without making so much as a token move to hide her nudity.
The grin widened even more on the inky features of her backyard visitor, but at the same time his eyes darted a bit suspiciously in the direction of the big house.
"You tryin' to shit me, lady?" he asked huskily. "You trying to git this black boy's ass blown off with a shotgun!"
She chuckled spicily. "If it's my husband you're worrying about-"
"It's him and whoever else is in that house."
She moved her legs languidly apart so that he could get a blinding look at the way the hairs on her pussy gleamed in the sunlight. His eyes riveted themselves hungrily right at the center of her crotch. Her own slightly intoxicated eyes moved over him at the same time, drinking in the facts that collectively began to make her savagely determined not to let him get away: six feet of solid black man, muscled arms as big around as her calves, trim hips, and a face just slightly short of Sidney Poitier's.
"There's nobody here but us chickens," she purred, holding the bottle of Scotch up toward him again. "Now how's about a drink?"
She could see that he didn't know whether to crap or go blind. But she could also see that something was beginning to happen in his pants-something a little like the erecting of a circus tent pole.
"Lady, I got garbage to tote off."
"It can wait."
She felt deliciously abandoned now, and she wondered just how much her feeling had to do with the fact that it was a Negro she was talking to. Having been brought up in the South, she still had all those old female superstitions clinging like moss to her brain. All black men are immoral as alley cats, and all of them love to fuck white women, and all of them are hung like supermen!
"Lady ... uh ... I ain't one of these new niggers you been reading about. I ain't as liberated as some Yankee black boys who things they can-"
"Cut out the politics," she said. "I'm not asking you to vote for me-I'm asking you to screw me."
Her lusty language almost made his ears point!
"You here all by yourself?" he breathed.
"Uh-huh-horny and drunk. You ought to be able to tell both of those things by looking at me."
Once again his helplessly interested grin spread over his face, and she got an enticing look at a row of perfect white teeth.
"You'll don't want humped right here, does you?"
She smiled. "Only unless it's the only way I can get it, you hunky stud."
He hesitated only a few seconds. "Something tells this old boy he better run like a rabbit ... but..."
"But you think it might be nicer to fuck like a rabbit, eh?"
He grinned lecherously, and she could see that he had a heroic hard-on now. The damned thing was poking up against his pants leg like an axe handle.
"You want some hard black meat, lady, you got some," he husked.
"That's nice," she crooned.
She didn't bother to dress. With the tall weathered-board fence that Harry had insisted on putting up all around the place, the neighbors couldn't have seen into the yard with a periscope. Not even Mrs. Fenway, the nosy old maid next-door, and Peg had to grin a bit thinking what that old arrogant bag would have thought if she could have seen her leading a big black buck up to her bedroom!
They went straight up to the master bedroom-or almost straight up. Midway on the carpeted stairs, she couldn't resist the lewd notion to unbutton the garbage man's pants and pull that huge fuck-rod out of his fly. His prick was like a black stallion's, so long and thick that her small white fingers looked like a doll's hands holding it.
"Lord, my mother was right," she wheezed, feeling up and down the murderously stiff column of dark meat. "But she didn't tell me you don't have to get raped to enjoy one of you."
"Ain't never had to rape nobody yet," he said, grinning, and keeping his large arms hanging politely at his sides while she stroked his coal-black peter with both hands, making it grow even longer and stiffer under the teasing.
"I can see why," she managed weakly. "Any female who wouldn't hold still for something like this has got to be either crazy or queer!"
He grinned again appreciatively as she rolled back the thick snout of dark skin surrounding the glans of his uncircumcised cock. The big pink bulb of his prickhead appeared, making a colorful contrast to the inky hue of the rest of his penis. She had never seen a meatus as big as the one he had, and the thought of feeling that ball of spongy flesh pushing back the walls of her pussy made the nipples of her tits begin to harden the point.
"C'mon," she breathed, pulling him gently on up the stairs by clasping both her hands around his enormous sex, "let's go screw ourselves silly!"
It was only when she reached the bedroom that she had the best idea of all-an idea that made her clit wag like a finger against the hairs of her cunt.
"You like vibrators?" she asked huskily.
She could tell by the blank look on his face that he was just a country boy who did it by the book.
"You know," she continued, feeling as sluttish as an old whore with a fourteen-year-old boy, "those plastic things that look like flashlights."
He still looked dumb.
"Women put them up their pussies and play like they're pricks," she said flatly.
That rang a lustful bell in his head.
"I don't know nothin' about no new-fangled kind," he said innocently, "but back home in Georgia the gals used to do it with cucumbers and candles."
"We've come a long way," she said. "But vibrators can do wonders for a male, too. You hop that beautiful body of yours out of all those clothes and I'll show you."
He didn't have to be asked twice. While he shucked out of his duds, she dug in the closet and came out with the big locked box of her play-pretties. She always kept them well hidden from Harry, and for good reason. If he had ever seen the kinds of things she loved to work up her lusty cunt, he'd have thrown her in the garbage!
When she got back to the bed, her black Sambo was stark-naked and lying in the middle of her satin sheets. His ebony body looked so damned obscene against the pinkish-white smoothness of the sheets that she felt a mad urge to lick him from head to toe, and spend the duration on that whooping pole of meat standing up between his legs.
Instead, she unlocked the box of vibrators and selected one of her favorites. The exotic catalogue she had ordered it from had described it as The Peter Pan-Good for Whatever Ails Males. The unique thing about this vibe was that it had two rubbery sacs that were designed to cup a man's balls, and vibrate right along with the rest of it. She had bought it because she knew the sacs would also fit over the cones of her tits, and she loved to use it while she had one of the bigger, longer vibrators buzzing like mad up her cunt.
Her darky didn't seem too keen on the whole business.
"What you gonna do, lady?" he breathed. "Don't you think my dingus is big enough?"
She glanced wantonly at the unwieldy, swarthy prick that was pointing straight up at the ceiling, and smiled.
"I just want to get you good and hot," she purred. "And you can do the same for me."
"If'n I git much hotter, I'm gonna fuck knotholes."
With her body burning and palpitating with lust, she crawled up on the bed with him. She not only the Peter Pan with her, she had her old faithful vibe, the one Georgios had given her. It was called the Furburger Special, and Georgios had told her that if she intended to give up the real thing, she'd damn well need it. The Furburger was eleven inches long and five inches around, with a selector switch that went from slow to fast and a cluster of rubber nodules on the head of it that could French-tickle a pussy into a slavering orgasm in less than three minutes.
"Here, hero," she slurred, putting the big vibe into the black hands of her new stud. "When I say to, you ease that big thing up my pussy and turn it on-okay?"
He grinned. "You sure enough do like doin' it the hard way, don't you?"
"Don't worry-we're going to do it every way in the book," she purred. "And then we're going to write a few chapters of our own."
With that, she nuzzled herself close down between his legs, but lengthwise, so that her cunt was still in easy reach of his hand and the huge vibrator he held. The musky, macaroon odor of his body filled her nostrils like the scent of a bull's nuts, and it was all she could do to keep from madly licking on that stiff prick of his, just to show him how much she wanted it. But she wanted to make him a whole lot hornier with the vibe first.
She attached the thin rubbery sacs to each of his full brown balls, then put the tip of the vibrator snugly up against the underside of his meatus. When it was in place, she clicked the little battery-operated switch, and the humming ripples began to pleasure his cock like a million busy fingers.
"Lordy-mercy," he rasped, groaning with joy as his balls and prick quivered and throbbed. "ShitSSH-H-H-IITTT! That feels goooood!"
She watched with glittering, lecherous eyes as his gloriously stiff penis lengthened into a rigid column of lust. The veins along the sides bloated out with pleasure, and the big pink head began to turn darker with the thumping rush of hot blood.
"Ah ... ah'm gonna COME!" he barked huskily.
She wanted him to, and to bring him to the most delicious orgasm of his stud-fucker life, she lowered her ovaled mouth down over the trembling head of his big prick and began to softly lick the top of it.
With a deep growl of unleashed ecstasy, he began to spurt hot globs of sperm against her tongue. His boiling nectar shot against her nose and cheeks as she frantically lapped to eat it all. Too greedy to let his cum escape, she sucked half of his throbbing cock down her throat and pumped her head as one or two gluts of sperm bolted into her mouth.
When he was through shooting, his wet, black prick was still up hard and stiff. She lathed her hungry tongue up and down it, licking it the way a cat licks her kittens. The fact that his meat was still stud-hard made her cunt itch with lust.
She slipped the vibrator off his nuts, and kissed each moist ball one after the other.
"Now put the other vibe into me," she begged, turning her flushed face back to look into his grinning, satisfied eyes.
"Yes, ma'am ... and I sure hopes you keep a'sucking on me. I like that fine."
To answer his question, she brought her foamy mouth back to the coral head of his beautiful prick and began to gobble at it with her tongue and lips. Almost instantly she felt the familiar cone of the Furburger Special forcing open the hot lips of her cunt. She moaned deep in her throat as the enormous plastic dildo rode against the grainy walls of her expanding pussy...
Her black stud couldn't have rammed the vibe into her hole better if he'd been trained for months. He even twisted and turned it so that the rubber nodules teased and stimulated every inch of her throbbing slit. Then he clicked the switch to fast, and the whole wet tunnel of her cunt began to quiver like a bowl of jelly.
The swift, horny-hot orgasm that leaped deliciously through her loins made her suck his cock like a strumpet. And as her own juices flooded out over the base of the vibrator, he shot another full load of sperm into the deepest corners of her throat.
After that, they had to rest awhile.
She lay in his strong, dusky arms while he idly tweaked her nipples and tickled her toes with his own. She was pleasantly exhausted, but she knew that her ravenous pussy wouldn't be satisfied until he had fucked her, until she could feel him crouched like a panther on top of her, driving those ten inches of pitch-black meat into her to the balls.
She was aware that his prick was still half-hard. The big sable snake of his penis was lying across the top part of his leg, a droplet of sperm hanging from the tip. But she wanted it all the way hard, and that need prompted her to tease him somehow into the lusty condition for fucking her.
"Your first time with a white woman?" she asked cunningly.
He grinned. "No, ma'am. I done it once-I mean, I done it a whole lot of times, with Miz Pickens."
"Somebody around here?"
"No, ma'am. A white lady back in Flosom, Georgia. She was the most richest white lady in Flosom, and I done her yard work when I was around seventeen."
"Tell me about it."
"About that yard work I done?"
"No, you shy stud. About how you fucked her."
He grinned again, and his thumb and forefinger pressured one of her nipples until it was popping firm and hot against his touch.
"Wasn't much to tell. like I said, I used to go over and hoe out her garden. Then she'd invite me in for some cool lemonade and maybe cookies. Took me the longest time to git it through my head that she was wan tin' something from me besides my hoeing."
"like that big tool between your legs, maybe?"
"You guessed it. She kept telling me I was a big boy for my age. Kept on asking me if I liked girls. Kept wantin' to know if they was anything I wanted she could buy for me."
"Didn't you catch on?"
"With a white lady? Huh, the only pussy I had then was my sisters' and two of my cousins. I used to crawl out in the henhouse with my cousin Letta Sue and work on her 'til I was plumb give out. I knowed that Letta Sue sure liked to git it, but I sure didn't think Miz Pickens had any plans for me."
"How'd it happen?"
"Happen first time one Sundy mornin' while all my folks was singing gospel hymns in church. Miz Pickens had me over to fix her rose trellis, and first thing I know she was wantin' me to come upstairs and move her bureau. Least that was what she said she wanted done, but when I got up there she pulled down her drawers and let me see her pussy."
Peg felt a little throb of interest shoot through her own cunt as she thought of that clever old Southern bitch showing her hot slit to a nearly grown young stud like the Black Beauty in bed with her.
"Did you fuck her?"
"No, ma'am, not right off. She wanted me to smell around it some first. She wanted me to git down on all fours like some old coon hound and sniff her hairy cunt and lick it real good."
"And ... uh ... you did?"
"Wasn't no good sayin' no to a white lady. Besides, I never had done that to nobody but Letta Sue. So I tore out of my clothes and did what she wanted. I guess I ate her for the good part of an hour a'fore she took it in her mind to make me fuck her."
"How was it?"
"I'd never had hotter. Tell you the truth, Letta Sue wanted all I had, but she never could take more than about half of what I had. Now Miz Pickens, she took me all the way up to my balls, and kinda made a whimperin' sound cause she wanted more."
Peg's clit was rising like a surrender flag!
"And did you keep on fucking her after that? I mean, did you go over ever Sunday and-"
"Didn't stick to no regular way. Seems like once she had got some of my big prick, she couldn't sleep for wan tin' more. I used to crawl out of the house four or five times a week and go fuck her. Couple of hours at a time. That was some cock-hungry white woman. Before it was over, I had my brothers helpin' me out."
"You mean she-"
"Wanted five or six big, black peters lined up in a row. Wilbur, Jesse, Rambo, Henry and me-we all used to fuck her one after the other. And when she had the rag on, she'd want us to come over all the same. She'd make us sit side by side on the edge of the bed upstairs, and she'd go down the line sue kin' us off."
That did it.
With a purring little growl of lust, Peg snatched up the Peter Pan vibrator and drove it solidly up between the cheeks of her ass. She moaned with pleasure as the plastic tube burrowed to the hilt in her rectum.
"Fuck me," she hissed. "Pretend I'm that Southern slut and fuck my pussy blind."
"Yes'm!"
He was as ready as she was. During the lewd reportage he had stimulated his own imagination to the point of no return. His horse-sized prick was stiffer than ever, and when he swung around to position himself over her flushed thighs his twanger slapped like a big sausage against her leg.
"Ram it in" she purred greedily. "I want screwed at both ends! "
More than anxious to satisfy her, he drove the obsidian column of his stalwart cock deep into the pouting labia of her cunt. She grunted with joy as she felt the big head of it nose lewdly right up against her womb.
The Peter Pan was already vibrating madly up her ass-hole as he began to fuck her with steady, powerful strokes. His black buttocks rose and fell over her with pile-driver force as the bedsprings creaked and the wide-open lips of her cunt made sucking noises of pleasure.
Even if she had wanted to-which she didn't-she couldn't have stopped such marvelous pumping.
Not even when she heard Harry's footsteps coming up the stairs, and his thin, high voice calling out to her like a little lost lamb.
"Honey, you home? Mrs. Fenway called me and said some garbage truck had been blocking her drive for over an hour. Do you know anything about-"
But by then he was at her bedroom door-and knew all about it himself!
11
The Blue Fox Lounge might as well have been Grant's Tomb. It was that quiet after Peg finished telling the girls about how Harry had caught her in the arms of a very questionable paramour: a black stud garbage collector with a ten-inch whanger.
Even their martini glasses sat forgotten in front of them.
"Jesus," Rita breathed finally. "You mean Harry just walked right in while you and this ... uh ... fellow were-"
"Screwing like apes," Peg said, nodding soberly. "I thought Harry's toupee was going to shoot up and stick on the ceiling. He looked as if somebody had rammed the bedpost up his-well, up his you-know-what."
"He was a little angry?" Mary asked softly.
"Angry? How do you think you would feel if you had always considered your wife the flower of Southern womanhood, and you came home to find her with an eleven-inch vibrator up her ass and a super-coon stud balling her like gangbusters?"
"You didn't tell us about the vibrator," Jill said weakly.
"You didn't ask. Anyway, I might as well make a clean breast of the whole thing. I love vibes and Scotch."
"And well-hung black boys," Rita offered.
"Yes. But don't know 'em if you haven't tried 'em." And on that faintly amusing remark Peg glanced around the table at her three friends. Instead of finding them amused, or even sympathetic, to her hair-raising tale of being caught by Harry, she found them more glum than ever. They looked as if they had lost their clits at Auschwitz.
"Hey, girls," Peg hummed, "you don't have to act like it's the end of the world. I'm the one who got her tail in a crack with Harry. It's no skin off your-"
"Don't be so sure," Rita cut in. "It so happens I've got real troubles of my own-with Walter."
"Ditto with me with Arnold," Jill said. "So that makes three of us."
"Would you believe four?" Mary sighed.
Peg couldn't resist a bitchy little grin. "You mean all of us got caught?"
They all glanced around at each other with sheepish, unhappy looks.
"Remember my high-heeled time with that swimming pool cleaner?" Mary asked. "Remember how clever I thought I was to have screwed him in my bedroom while Frank was off at the office?"
"Yes, so what?"
"Frank found my bra out in the filter house, and he's some kind of evil genius at putting two and two together."
"You were lucking," Rita breathed. "At least a lost bra is only circumstantial evidence. I really got nailed by Walter. Remember the wild time I just told you about with those two mule-type Texas truck drivers?"
"Uh-huh."
"Well, when I got home I took off my clothes and ran a big tub of hot water. I was bending stark-naked over the tub testing the water when Walter strolled in."
"So?"
"Sol had dozens of greasy thumb prints on the cheeks of my butt, that's all. How do you explain that away in one easy fib?"
Peg smiled and glanced at Jill. "And how did you get caught, sweetie?"
Jill paled and took a listless nibble at her martini. "Well, it wasn't because Big Jake the plumber left a leg wrench under my bed. It was worse than that. When Arnold got home and saw that a couple of plumbers had torn up the sink for nothing, he stormed down to the rooter place and gave them hell. Then, as my damned luck would have it, Arnold decides he has to pee. He goes into the John at Big Jake's place, and what does he see written in big letters on the wall over the toilet?"
"Oh, Christ, don't tell me that-"
"You guessed it. That little bastard helper of Big Jake's, namely Willy, had written: FOR THE BEST PIECE OF FREE HOT ASS IN TOWN CALL 444-2922 AND ASK FOR JILL!"
"Jee-sus, honey."
Peg was the only one who seemed to find the confessions amusing. She picked up her martini glass and proposed a toast. "Here's to the Fallen Four-and do we meet next in the divorce court?"
To her surprise, her three girl friends stared at her as if she'd lost her mind.
"Divorce?" Mary echoed. "Who said anything about divorce? I said I got caught, but I didn't say Frank blamed me for anything."
"Same goes for Arnold," Jill purred. "He was really so nice and understanding about the whole thing. He even told me that he loved me more for it. And, of course, that's why I feel like such a heel right now. Slipping around on my darling Arnold while he's as faithful as a rock."
"I know what you mean," Rita agreed softly. "When my Walter had a few hours to cool off, he was so nice to me I thought I'd cry. Even brought me some flowers this morning before he left for the fishing trip with Harry."
"Huh?" Peg muttered. "What fishing trip with what Harry?"
"With your Harry, honey. Walter said that your Harry had invited him and Mary's Frank and Jill's Arnold to go out to that lake cabin of yours for an all-day fishing trip and five-card stud."
"That's right," Jill and Mary both chimed.
By this time Peg's eyes had narrowed to cunning, burning slits. "Why, that sneaky, baldheaded little sonovabitch!" she hissed.
"Peg," Rita gasped.
"Don't Peg me," Peg snapped. "Do you know what that little weasel told me he would be doing all day today? He said he had to set a broken hip out at the Heavenly Days Old Folks Home!"
"Huh?" Jill twittered.
"And as for a fishing trip," Peg continued, her voice rising like flint against a blackboard, "that ding-dong Harry wouldn't know a trout from a whale. He hates fishing, and I've never known him to play a game of cards in his life."
"Come to think of it," Mary added huskily, "I wondered why the devil Frank was so interested in going fishing. I mean, he used to say fishing was his idea of nothing to do."
"Then if they aren't fishing and if they aren't playing five-card stud," Rita ventured, "then what the hell are they doing out in a lake cabin!"
Peg grinned bitterly. "Oh, they're playing stud, all right. But not with cards."
Jill still looked moderately blank. "But why would they want to sneak off and-"
"Revenge, you innocent dimwit," Peg sputtered. "Can you imagine anything so low and treacherous!"
"I just don't believe Frank would do anything like that behind my back," Mary said flatly.
Peg snorted. "Humph! And what in Christ did you do behind his-besides fuck his foreman and blow his office boy!"
"But. . . but if they are out there doing something," Rita trilled, "who are they doing it with? As far as I know, Walter doesn't even know any loose women."
"Maybe they're not loose, honey," Peg snarled. "Maybe they've just got extra-long tethers-like us."
Mary pushed up from the table so fast that her martini glass clanked over. "There's only one damn way to find out," she howled. "C'mon, girls, we're heading for the lake!"
Trooping out of the Blue Fox Lounge like a small tribe of Trojan women, they piled into Rita's convertible and roared off toward the same by-pass where Rita had worked the truck driver trade.
They made only one stop-at Peg's house, to pick up. a pair of high-powered binoculars. With tempers only mildly cooled, they had already rejected not to drive screeching and honking right up to the lake cabin. Better to sneak up on the place and see what they could through the glasses. "After all," as Jill insisted, "those two-timing, lousy sneaks might just really be fishing."
The cabin was out on Rooster Comb lake, so named because of the wriggly inlets that bound one side of it. Fortunately, it was at the Up of one of those inlets that Harry and Peg had built their dream cabin some four years back. An impressively modern, Playboy-type bachelor pad that Peg had thought Harry would love to escape to on weekends. It was all sliding glass doors, rustic shingles, and exposed aggregate concrete, with a high rock wall shutting off the landscaped area behind it from the casual tourist.
But Peg knew exactly where they could go to get a perfect view of the cabin and the yard.
They parked the convertible hell and gone from the winding lake road, then crawled through shrubs and rocks to a sharp peak about fifty yards from the cabin.
"Gimme those binoculars," Peg grunted, as she slumped her hips down on one of the rocks and glared in the direction of Harry's hideaway.
"See anything?" Jill breathed helplessly.
They knew from the slow way that Peg's mouth began to fall open that she was seeing plenty. After a few heated seconds of peering through the powerful glasses, Peg handed them over to Mary.
"You better see what your angel Frank is doing," Peg snorted. "He's the only one I can get a bead on ... and that's because he's out in the backyard with-"
"With who?" Mary snapped.
"See for yourself, honey."
Mary snatched, the glasses and put them up to her eyes, working the viewfinder like Napoleon at Waterloo.
What she saw made a burning flush of shame and rage circle through her loins!
Her husband Frank was lounging stark-naked in one of those low-slung, orange beach chairs. He had on a silly, fringed Jamaican straw hat and a tall drink in one hand. But what turned Mary's blast furnace on was the equally naked, long-legged, blonde young woman who was sitting on Frank's lap and kissing his hairy nipples!
"That tramp! " Mary hissed. "I know who she is, too! She's that cheap, yellow-blonde waitress that always serves Frank and me at our favorite pizza parlor!"
The rest of the girls sat in stony silence as Mary continued to drink in the shocking facts of life-her husband's sex life!
She watched as the blonde girl-a deliriously young and pretty and full-titted thing-lifted one of her legs off of Frank's lap, and allowed his fully erected penis to come up between her thighs like the head of a giant snapping turtle. Mary stared in disbelief as the slutty young lady toyed with her husband's delighted prick, and rubbed the bloated tips of her nipples teasingly against his chest.
"That bitch!" Mary moaned.
"Any sign of Walter?" Rita demanded hoarsely.
But Mary didn't have time to think about Rita's problems. She was too hypnotized by what Frank and the blonde waitress were doing next. And that was almost exactly what she had done with Willy, the plumber's helper. Mary let out a little sob of fury as she saw the blonde lift her glimmering white buttocks and position her gaping cunt deftly over the rearing head of Frank's hard cock. Then, with a grin on her face that revealed every nuance of her pleasure, the girl lowered her hips and took Frank's hard-on up her pussy to the balls. Mary hissed like a serpent.
"Here," Jill groaned. "Let somebody else have a look."
Mary was too weak with rage to resist when Jill grabbed the binoculars out of her hand. But it was several minutes before Jill let out a little gasp of her own.
"What do you see?" Peg breathed.
"Plenty! They've opened the cabin drapes."
All hands grabbed for the glasses, but Peg's were first.
"Lordy,'. she gasped, glancing away briefly from the binoculars toward Rita. "Sweetie, you've been hiding things from the rest of us. Why didn't you tell me Walter was hung like that!"
"Gimme those glasses, dammit," Rita puffed.
Peg handed over the long-distance eyes, and Rita zeroed in on what was going on inside the cabin. And plenty was. Her own Walter was standing right in front of the big glass window, wearing nothing but a leering smile. That big prick that she had assumed was hers alone was now in the process of being avidly sucked by a strikingly beautiful woman of about thirty: a female who with her long, raven-black hair and her brightly painted fingernails looked disturbingly familiar to Rita.
"That's Miss Douggle!" Rita hissed. "And the brazen slut is sucking Walter's thing."
"Who the crap is Miss Douggle?" Peg asked, grinning.
"It's the head salesclerk at Lord and
Finch wheelers-where I buy my clothes!"
Rita stared with a rising shock of shame as she watched the same sophisticated, charming career woman who had served her dozens of times bobbing her head back and forth to make Walter's rod almost disappear into the depths of her throat. Even through the binoculars, Rita could see the little spots of coral pleasure coloring Miss Douggle's cheeks as the long, rigid column of Walter's meat throbbed hotly against the sides of her mouth. And as the slutty saleswoman ate him, she took more and more, until when it was perfectly obvious that Walter might shoot off his balls, her ovaled lips were crushed against his pubic hair.
"That cocksucking trollop!" Rita groaned. "I could kill her!"
But kill or not kill, Rita couldn't drag her eyes away from the erotic scene taking place in the cabin. She found herself looking her naked Walter up and down from head to foot, marveling at how little she had appreciated that body of his in the past. He was trim as a twenty-year-old boy, she realized, and she felt a grudging envy for how much fun Miss Douggle was having with his enormous penis.
"What I want to know," Jill was whispering, "is where the screw is Arnold!"
"Yeah," Peg grunted. "And Harry has got to be around there some place, the bastard."
Rita handed the glasses to Jill. "Here-I can't watch any more. That bitch man-eater is going to chew Walter's nuts off before she's through."
It was Jill's turn to look again, and by so doing she solved the riddle of the missing Harry.
"There's your hubby," Jill said to Peg, "and I wouldn't want to be the one to tell you what he's doing."
"I don't give a damn what he's doing," Peg snorted, reaching for the glasses. "I want to know who he's doing it with!"
She found out by looking. Harry had appeared at the other corner of the cabin window, naked as an ape and grinning like a sailor on shore leave. Even his toupee was off, and Peg could see at least a dozen perfect imprints of lipstick on Harry's bald head and his hairy chest, and in only seconds she saw the owner of the red lips. It was Harry's night nurse at the hospital!
"That slut!" Peg husked.
She watched as the bosomy young nurse with tangled, tawny gold hair moved willingly into the outstretched arms of her mature lover. The nurse's jouncing tits, pink-nippled and pointing, came up to meet the lowering bald head as Harry's mouth began to hungrily suck at them. As he chewed, the nurse threw back her head in a lusty show of pleasure, and began to tweak Harry's ears with the tips of her fingers.
"I've heard of playing doctor and nurse," Peg groaned, "but I thought only kids did it out in the barn."
It was while Peg was watching the steamy breast-feeding antics of her Harry that another couple strolled across her view.
"You want to know what Arnold is doing?" Peg asked Jill.
"Can you see him?"
Peg grunted. "That depends on which part of his anatomy you're talking about."
That remark made Jill whip the glasses out of Peg's hands to have a look-see for herself.
"HER!" Jill roared.
She was referring, of course, to the arrogant young lady fresh out of secretarial school whom Arnold had hired only two weeks before. With her horn-rims off-to say nothing of all of her clothes-the girl looked like a French whore full of Spanish fly. As Jill gaped, Arnold hoisted the lithe, giggling young secretary right up to his mouth by holding her by both buttocks. She locked her legs eagerly around her boss's shoulders as his face vanished into the open V of her crotch. He was obviously eating her!
It was the last straw-for all of them.
But just what the hell they expected to do about it, they didn't know!
As usual, it was Peg who broke the spell by throwing back her head and letting out a raucous hoot of laughter.
"I don't see anything so damn funny," Rita fumed.
Neither did the others, and they glared at Peg with smoldering eyes.
"But I see," Peg said, wiping the tears from her eyes. "Don't you realize what they're doing? It's tit-for-tat. We went out and roped ourselves a few blue-collar working-class studs, and so they went out and did the same thing. Waitress, sales gal, nurse, and secretary."
"And that's funny?" Jill snorted.
"Only if we let it get our goats. Look, I don't know about the rest of you, but one good plan deserves another. Mary, you had your bright idea, and now I've got one, too."
"It better be a good one," Mary breathed.
Peg grinned. "Don't worry, gals. If this idea for pepping up our sex lives works the way I think it will, I'll bottle it!"
12
Exactly one week later, on a beautiful Saturday afternoon, Mary picked up Jill, then they picked up Rita, and drove to Peg's house, as she had instructed.
"What do you suppose she really does have up her sleeve?" Jill ventured uncertainly.
Rita shrugged. "I don't know, but whatever it is, I hope our husbands don't find out."
Mary glanced at both her friends. "Did either of you ... uh..."
"Tell our husbands that we know what they did last Saturday at Harry's lake cabin?" Jill blurted. "Are you crazy? I didn't breathe a word to Arnold."
"Walter doesn't know a thing, either," Rita admitted. "And he's been as cool as ice to me all week anyway."
"So has Frank," Mary sighed. "Golly, I hope Peg doesn't have anything really far-out in mind for this afternoon."
"like a troop of eighteen-year-old Eagle Scouts?" Rita asked, grinning.
"Don't joke about it. I'll have to admit that I enjoyed both my little flings," Mary said. "But if Frank really catches me with some lower-class guy's hand in my panties, he'll jet me to Reno."
"Same here," Rita and Jill echoed.
When they reached Peg's, Mary led the way in. She figured that since the first mad idea for illicit sex had been hers, the least she could do was act as group leader.
Peg met them at the door in a pink see-through peignoir. The gown left almost nothing to the imagination. Her friends could see both of her tits because the ruddy, full-tipped nipples were pushing up against the thin cloth like thumbs. And if one cared to notice, Peg's dark thatch of pubic hair could be seen between her legs.
"Lord," Jill muttered, "have you started without us?"
Peg grinned. "There're three more gowns on the sofa. Take off your clothes and hop into them."
Mary glanced hesitantly around the big, empty living room. "Before we do anything, tell us what the hell you've schemed up. Have you got some poor, oversexed stud hiding in the closet?"
Peg had to grin again. "Better than that, girls. I've got four of 'em upstairs."
"Four of what?" Rita purred.
"You'll see. Now, get into those sexy gowns, and I'll give you your instructions."
They did as they were told, stripping naked during a lot of nervous giggling, and putting on the sexy gowns until they were as indecent as Peg.
Just getting naked into something as salacious as the filmy peignoirs was already making all of them a little horny. Rita, for example, could feel her clit beginning to thicken and rise, reminding her of that erotic day she balled all those big-pricked truck drivers.
"Well," Mary demanded, when they were gowned, "now do we get to know who you've got upstairs?"
"Haven't you guessed?" Peg asked. "I've got your husbands."
"Huh?"
"So that's what you've spent the whole week doing," Jill sputtered. "Screwing our bedmates!"
"Hardly, dear," Peg slurred. "I did spend the week talking them into this deal. And I must say, it took some talking. But when they found out that we knew all about their little lakeside orgy, they came around. And why the hell not!"
"You mean," Mary breathed, "that I'm supposed to trot upstairs in this costume and fuck my husband in your house?"
"Huh-uh," Peg said casually. "You're going to get fucked-and by a gas meter reader."
"By a what?" Mary gasped.
"You heard me-and a nice working-class gas meter reader he is, too. And you, Jill, you're going to be entertained to death by a butch door-to-door panty salesman. And as for you, Rita, how would you like to have your flag raised and waved by a good-looking, crack-crazy taxi driver?"
Rita wet her lips weakly. "Do you mean that your husbands are upstairs all rigged out like ... uh ... all those types?"
"Exactly. And I've put big paper numbers on the bedrooms so that you can't miss them. Mary, you're in ONE, Jill's in TWO, and Rita is in THREE."
"And where are you?" Jill asked.
"I'm in FOUR-with a mechanic. A more-than-willing motorcycle mechanic, actually."
At that, the girls had to laugh.
"Peg, you're a damned genius," Mary said, grinning.
"I think you'll find I'm even smarter than that before the afternoon is over. Okay, you liberated vestal virgins-go find your men!"
With a muffled whoop of pleasure, Peg's three guests started for the stairs.
Bedroom ONE was right at the top of the landing, so Mary was the first one to find her fate. When she opened the door, she saw a man dressed in a denim uniform and a cap, but it wasn't her husband. It was Jill's husband Arnold!
"Oh," Mary said, gulping. "Sorry, Arnold, I guess I got the wrong-"
"You were assigned to bedroom ONE, weren't you, Mary?" Arnold asked, grinning.
"Well ... uh ... yes, but-"
"You like me, don't you?"
"You know I like you, Arnold. Hell, yes, I do like you, but-"
"So what's the problem? Shut the door and come on over here. Let me test your meter, baby."
Mary got the picture in a big way then. That Peg was really full of surprises!
"What about Frank?" Mary asked, closing the door behind her and snapping the lock.
"Don't worry about Frank," Arnold said. "I don't think he'll be worrying about you for the next hour."
Mary's lips spread in a slow, wanton grin. It was as if she were seeing Arnold Allen for the first time. Really seeing him. And really realizing just what a goddamned mature and good-looking male he was.
She came over to him on hot tip-toes.
"Read my meter," she husked happily.
He was still grinning as his big hands came up to mold the full thrust of her tits. His thumbs moved over the thin cloth covering the nipples, and she could feel her blood beginning to boil in her loins.
"I'll do better than read your meter," he said huskily. "I'll eat your meter!"
She felt a little devilish kick of lust inside her womb. "One good turn deserves another," she whispered hotly.
"Meaning...? "
"You eat my meter-and I'll eat your peter!"
His eyes sparkled wickedly, and kept sparkling as her fingers moved hungrily toward the metal buttons on his fly.
While Mary and Arnold were getting down to their first, but hopefully not last, meal together, Jill was having a little discourse of her own with Peg's husband Harry.
When Jill had first strolled into bedroom TWO, she had almost dropped her fillings to see portly, high-voiced Harry lying on the bed stark-naked with a suitcase full of frilly panties. But her recovery had come swimmingly fast when she saw the long, fat cock between Harry's pudgy legs. It was up as hard as a hammer!
"Can I interest you in a pair of panties?" Harry asked, grinning, and holding up a little scrap of what looked like black lace and fringed doilies. "I see you need some."
"Do I?" Jill asked, smiling, not able to keep her eyes off that immodestly large thing old Harry had poking up from between his legs.
"Well, that's a.matter of opinion at that," Harry admitted. "But it might be all kinds of fun-for both of us-if you waltzed your ass over here and let me finger a pair of 'em on you."
Harry's amusing attempt to sound like a door-to-door salesman made Jill's imagination soar, right along with her wanton urge to know what it would be like to get fucked by a lawyer's husky cock.
She came over to the bed, slipping out of the peignoir as she moved. She stood brazenly naked in front of him and let his eyes rove greedily over every inch of her body before she prompted the next move.
"Do you try to make a ... uh ... good fit for all of your customers?" she crooned.
"No complaints yet, lady. Here, lemme show you."
As she stood with her legs spread apart, he worked the skimpy pair of panties up to her hips. He had his hands all over her during the process, pressing and squeezing his fingers into the firm mounds of her flushed buttocks, and letting his thumb get very involved with her pubic hair and the fattening lips of her throbbing pussy.
"There," he panted finally, patting her tummy with the flat of his hand. "How's that for a perfect fit?"
She grinned. "I'm going to have a perfect fit, Harry, if we don't cut out this foolishness and get down to some old-fashioned fucking!"
He grinned back at her. "like they say, the customer is always right."
With that, he raked the panties all the way back down to her ankles, and she stepped out of them with a small moan of lust.
If anybody had tried to convince her that Harry Barton could be a tiger in bed, she would have laughed her head off-yesterday. But today she was finding out for herself that big things can come in small packages. Harry might be high-voiced and have his butt too low to the floor, she heard herself reasoning, but by God in the screwing department he was better than a saber-toothed rabbit!
She grunted joyously as Harry rolled her over in the middle of the bed and crawled between her legs. She felt the blunted head of his large prick plowing juicily up her pussy, and she bucked her hips to help. He didn't stop pumping until he had his balls wedged tightly against the nether side of her cunt, and she could feel the whole column of his manly tool thumping and throbbing inside of her.
"God, Harry," she gasped, "you sure missed your calling!"
"Us salesmen know how to score door-to-door," he breathed hoarsely. "Now, are you ready to get your cute housewife-twat fucked deep and dry?"
With a low growl of passion, she answered by circling her arms around his darkly-haired shoulders and swinging her smooth, naked legs lewdly around his chubby ass.
"Ball me, stud!" she rasped.
The creaking and groaning of springs under the humping bodies in bedroom TWO was almost loud enough to be heard in bedroom THREE-and might have been, if Rita and Frank hadn't been too preoccupied with their own explorations of each other's charms.
The second Rita had stepped into the bedroom, she had caught on. And she had loved the idea of mate swapping, too. In fact, she had long ago read up on the subject, and had even wanted to suggest such marital novelty to her girl friends before, except that she thought they would consider her a depraved slut. And that was one secret she had always wanted to keep.
But now, with Peg's lusty and improvisatory mind, the problem had been solved for her.
And with the very one she had always secretly coveted Mary's hubby Frank.
Rita had known since the first time she laid eyes on Frank that he was one of those deep-smoldering volcano types. One of those males who might be a little slow to stir up, but when once ignited would fuck a gal like a drunken whore master!
So, the instant she stepped into bedroom THREE and got a happy eyeful of Frank Carter in his borrowed taxi driver's cap and his khaki pants, her already hardening clit had turned into a cow tongue of lust.
She came at the basically shy architect with prick-hot hunger in her eyes!
"Christ, Rita," Frank gasped, when she moved into his arms without a word and began to run her lips wetly over his ears. "Aren't you even surprised about all this? I mean, I thought your gals might object ... or ... at least. . . uh..."
He couldn't quite get the futile objection out. Rita's hands were already rubbing and squeezing for the bulge in his pants. She found his cock with five of her fingers and began to massage it with little pumping motions, feeling it slowly growing hard under the rough texture of his work pants.
"Rita," he husked, "don't move so damned fast.
I'm supposed to be the one who-"
"Honey, you can drive your taxi cab into my bedroom any night," Rita gushed, cutting off his sentence with a greedy pull on his lengthening prick. "But since we're already in this bedroom, let's get nice and naked and ball like wampus cats!"
He opened his mouth one final time to make a gentlemanly protest, but Rita stopped that by driving her pointing tongue solidly down his throat. For the next two or three long minutes, while she worked frantically to get his fly open and to pull out that promising screwing tool of his, she French-kissed his mouth like a harlot. When he tried to come up for air, she sucked his tongue hard back into her mouth and rolled her own tongue obscenely against the roof of his mouth and cheeks.
Kissing like that from a voluptuous, half-naked female like Rita would have brought a corpse to life.
Frank's cock began to grow as stiff as iron, and when she finally got his fly open it flopped out into her hands like a giant-sized wiener!
She dropped to her knees, tongue slathering, and took more than half of his horizontally stiff prick into her mouth. While he stood flush-faced, arms hanging at his sides, she sucked savagely away on his meat. With his eyes closed and his mouth half-open in a slack grin, he listened to the deep slurping sounds her lips and tongue were making-and felt his rod growing bone-hard and hot against the back of her throat.
As nimble and ambitious as a Jezebel in a bunkhouse, Rita worked her gown off as she continued to blow the big and beautiful prick.
When she felt his balls tightening, she stopped her gluttonous sucking for a moment, and concentrated on licking merely the purple head. The fleshy helmet at the end of his pleasured cock had grown as big around as a small pear, and as she lapped it with the flat of her tongue it throbbed on the verge of coming.
But Rita wanted his sperm up her hot cunt, not down her throat.
With a gentle, stroking motion at his balls, she pulled him over to the bed. He was still fully dressed, with only his stone-hard cock sticking out of his fly, but they were both too hot to wait.
Sprawling backward on the bed and throwing her legs brazenly apart, she invited him to ram that rod right into her.
With a bestial grunt of lust not even his own wife would have recognized, Frank Carter plunged his huge organ as far up Rita's cunt as he could get it, then started fucking her like an ape.
Rita was already grinning and coming before his balls touched her ass-hole.
Meanwhile, in bedroom FOUR...
Peg and Walter were enjoying a good laugh.
Their laugh didn't have the most conventional origin in the world-it was being instigated by the fact that Walter was teasing her tits with one of her trusty vibrators.
They had been at the erotic game since Peg entered the bedroom. And her entering had come as no surprise at all to him. In fact, she had assured him that he would be the one she picked, and that if he wanted to bother with all the nonsense of pretending to be a motorcycle mechanic in a leather jacket, he could. But as for her notions on the subject, he was simply Walter Miles-Rita's husband-and a guy with a vibe-sized prick that could drive a carnal pussy like hers right through the bed slats.
And now, as Walter obligingly teased her nipples with the buzzing tip of the electric vibrator, and she just as helpfully let her fingers play up and down the vertical stiffness of his huge penis, they were working their way up to the same kind of fucking they had engaged in two nights before.
"Don't tell Rita," Walter whispered, grinning at the way Peg's cheeks were flushing as the pleasure heightened in her tits. "If she finds out we did this before today, she'll claw my balls off."
"She won't find out," Peg hummed. "But I do think it was a clever way to sort of make it ... uh ... legal."
Walter chuckled. "To say nothing of the fact that you might actually enjoy screwing Frank and Arnold. When you're through with me."
"Could be ... but I'm sure you won't turn down the chance later this afternoon to find out how the pussy tastes on the other side of the fence. Namely, Jill's and Mary's."
"I don't want to be a hog with this," he said, grinning, and pointing at the lordly prick that was on full-hard between his legs. "But I've got a feeling that nobody-but nobody-knows how to throw a fellow a good fuck the way you do."
Peg smiled, feeling shamelessly untroubled by what Walter was referring to. He was making an unveiled reference to two nights ago, when he got a call from her to meet her at a motel-for a talk. She had really intended just to broach the subject of a swap session, the same innocent way she had broached it to Frank and Arnold and Harry. But when Walter arrived at the motel bar, and when she remembered what she had seen him doing at the lake cabin with that Miss Douggle, and how big it had looked in that slut's hungry mouth, she knew that a little preview performance might be nice.
And so, instead of just talking, they had rented a motel room and fucked for three hours.
So now, with her final little secret tucked neatly away in her mind, she knew that she and Walter would be free to screw any time they wanted to. And still keep it all in the family.
And speaking of screwing, she was more than ready. The vibrator that he had used on her seething cunt-and which he was now stubbornly using on her swollen tits-had paved the way for the real thing. And the real thing was those ten hardy inches only a grope away.
"C'mon, lover-doll," she breathed helplessly, "let's roll on this bed like a couple of horny honeymooners."
"Fine by me," he said.
She ran her fingers lightly over his broad, hairy chest. "Then when you've got me good and satisfied, we'll go back down to the living room and join the others for cocktails."
His eyes twinkled wickedly. "Yeah ... and after that, you can serve us some drinks!"
