When we examine our ideas carefully, it is surprising how few of them are as new as we are inclined to think. Take the current trend away from the "nuclear" family and the advocacy by many people of various forms of communal living. Communes, of course, have been with us throughout recorded history, and it seems extremely probable that the first cavemen practiced exactly such a form of living. Shedding even more light on the longevity of the idea, however, is a book called The Home, Its Work and Influence by Charlotte Perkins Gilman. This important work has recently been reissued by the University of Illinois Press -but it was originally published in 1903.
Charlotte Gilman was a poet, wit, and radical social critic. Of her work, William L. O'Neill has said, "Of all the great feminist writers, she made the finest analysis of the relation between domesticity and women's rights, perhaps the most troubling question for liberated women and sympathetic men today.... Her analysis of the house as workshop, of its effects on children and adults, and of the home's negative social consequences are superb. Most of this remains as true of our time as it was of hers."
Indeed, most of Ms. (she deserves the title, even if it hadn't been invented in her time) Gilman's book sounds as if it had been written in 1972. She raised serious questions about the privacy and sanctity of the traditional home, as well as its value as a place to raise children and its social and economic usefulness.
Writing at the turn of the century, Ms. Gilman advocated a "kitchenless" home with centralized facilities for meals, child care, and cleaning. She stressed that the home has not developed in proportion to our other institutions. Among other things, she said, "Our domestic economy is the most wasteful department of life... feeding, clothing, and cleaning humanity costs more time, more strength, and more money than it could cost in any other way except absolute individual isolation."
Gilman made a brilliant expose of "domestic mythology" and argued in favor of doing away with the idea of privacy in the home, especially for children. She discussed the "myths" of the sanctity of the home, of women creating beauty in the home, and of the maternal instinct itself. According to her, mothers' instincts are often inadequate, so that the care and feeding of children was "still at a disgraceful level." Throughout her work, she was most concerned with women. She found the female sex to be isolated and confined, wasting tithe and energy in the "undeveloped household industry" and with lives spent "pitifully behind in the march of events."
Modern as Charlotte Gilman's thinking was, we are in constant need of fresh and current reappraisals of this problem. And in The Disciplined Daughter, author Kipp Cameron demonstrates that such reappraisals can be made as validly in fiction as they can in nonfiction.
The Disciplined Daughter is the story of two homes-two radically different kinds of homes. It is also the story of Jodie Hamilton, a young girl on the verge of awakening womanhood, who sees those homes from the best possible vantage point. Jodie is utterly feminine, and her reactions are distinctly female. In the end, as in all worthwhile fiction, she makes her own judgment, but along the way the reader has been given enough evidence to be able to decide whether he agrees with that judgment or not.
In the beginning, Jodie is shown as the product of an upbringing in a strictly traditional home. She has been happy there in spite of the rigidly old-fashioned atmosphere old-fashioned rigidity of her parents' beliefs. A crisis develops, however, when Jodie is disciplined and punished for a "crime" she did not commit-a crime, indeed, of which she was almost the helpless victim. She flees to the only person who can help her, who happens to be her Uncle Dick, her father's much younger and thoroughly liberated brother. Dick has, in fact, been written off by the rest of the family as a hippie, and the life Jodie enters into with him is very much like life in a small commune. It is primitive and crude in many ways, without any of the comforts and luxuries Jodie has been accustomed to. But here, at least, she expects to find justice and peace after having been treated so unjustly.
Mr. Cameron paints a vivid picture of the contrasts between these two homes and convincingly portrays Jodie's reactions to them. From a life of total repression, for instance, Jodie enters one of unlimited sensuality. It goes almost without saying that it is difficult to adjust, but some sort of adjustment is essential. The adjustment Jodie makes at the stunning climax is an unexpected compromise in which she takes the best from two worlds and adds something uniquely individual of her own. It makes for a highly entertaining story, and one that will give the reader a good deal to think about.
-The Publishers
CHAPTER ONE
Jodie's hand clutched tightly at the ragged edges of her torn party dress. Her hand trembled uncontrollably as she inserted the key into the door of her parents' luxurious Beverly Hills home.
"Please God," she muttered between her clenched teeth. "Please God, let them be out."
As she had run sobbing up the long sweep of the drive, there had been no sign of her father's Cadillac, but that didn't mean a thing. It could be safely put away in the garage beside her mother's bright red 3.5 Jaguar coupe. And both her parents could be sitting up to hear the details of the high school graduation dance.
The firm flesh of Jodie's seventeen-year-old breasts fell free of her torn dress as she reached behind her to gently close the door. The creamy smoothness of her thrusting mounds bounced and swayed enticingly as she made her way across the thick pile of the entrance room carpet toward the stairs and the privacy of her own bedroom.
Jodie's hand was on the iron balustrade and her back was to the study door as her father's voice reached out to her imperatively, like a cold clutching hand.
"That you, Jodie?"
Without pausing in her stride, she answered him briefly. "Yes, Dad. I'm going straight to bed. Good night."
His voice was indignant as it barked through the crack of the half-opened study door. "Not until you have given an account of yourself," he demanded. "Do you know what goddamn time it is? Your mother phoned the school and you left an hour ago. If you've been running around with that wetbacked Mexican kid again, I'll break your neck for you."
Terrified, the young girl ran up the stairs, the chill of the night air firming her virginal pink nipples, making her conscious of her near nudity and the impossibility of ever explaining what had happened to her bigoted, overprotective parents.
Her voice was a strangled sob as she flung an answer over her shoulder. "Later, Daddy. Later. Leave me alone, can't you?"
"Come back down here. I want to talk to you."
The chair creaked in the study as her father pushed away from his desk. The thought of him coming through the door, his hard gray eyes raking over her exposed breasts, like cold dry fingers reaching out from the depths of his suspicious, jealous mind, lent wings to Jodie's fleeing feet.
Her voice echoed down the void of the winding iron staircase, like some frightened, hunted animal. "No, Daddy, no. I'll talk to you in the morning."
Her bedroom door slammed with a solid finality, cutting off her words in mid-sentence. The lock clicked metallically into place under her trembling fingers before she crossed the room to her built-in clothes closet. Peeling off the telltale torn dress, she thrust it deep behind the rows of hanging clothes.
Closing the closet door, she surveyed herself in the full-length dressing mirror. Her ripe, plump young body was naked except for the brief wisp of transparent panties. Tossing back her head, she shook the long blonde hair behind her as it curved caressingly over the lines of her shoulders and high, pointed breasts. Free from the shy covering of her slinky hair, the voluptuous splendor of her budding womanhood thrust forward like a ripe offering. The delicate arc of her thighs merged gradually into the delicious vee of her crotch. The thin fabric of her briefs bulged enticingly over her silky-haired mound of Venus. A darker warm patch moistened the narrow gusset of material across her pouting love pit, indicating the desires that already burnt in her young, untouched body. Slowly, as if they were the searching hand of a lover, Jodie let her eyes glide upward, across the childlike smoothness of her rounded stomach, up over the protrusion of her rib cage to linger for one breathtaking minute upon the sudden rise of her pointed breasts.
Incredibly angled, they jutted out in a proud, determined defiance of gravity that allowed her to adopt the latest braless fashions, filling out the sheer shirts and blouses to the limit of the stretched fabric. Pensively, she raised her hands to cup her breasts, forcing the delicate pink fruits of her nipples to pucker invitingly.
How many times had she stood in the quiet privacy of her room and fantasized the tender kiss of a lover warmly pulling at the pink candied sweetness of her berrylike nipples? Some vague, perfect synthesis of a dream man that had haunted her since the first stirring of desire had coursed through her forming girlish body. Some attentive, courteous man who would look behind the fear in her eyes and understand the ache and loneliness, the sense of bewilderment she felt among the confused values of the World she was growing up in.
At times, as she lay unable to sleep in the heat of the California night, she had imagined the touch of this man's hands comforting her, petting her until all her fears and doubts became drowned and lost in the rising flood of her awakened sexuality. The petal-like folds of her tight, untouched cunt would flood with the warm fluids of her desire, lubricating and easing the passage of his stiff-muscled manhood as it gently penetrated deep within her, passing the open flower of her vaginal lips, probing insistently into her cunt, brushing aside the barrier of her maidenhood until it nuzzled with masculine insistence against the protrusion of her cervical button.
As she surrendered to the pounding thrust of the dream cock, it would seem to swell and grow until the enormity of it filled her completely, symbolically tearing aside the confining walls of her dilated pussy until it flooded her entire being with a hot gushing torrent of viscous cum and her empty, lonely soul was filled and at peace within her.
Yes, she told herself, that is what I want in a man. Someone who does not look upon me as a sex object alone, but is prepared to seek my mind, my hopes, and my dreams through the soft surrender of my body. Someone, perhaps, a little like her father's young hippie brother.
Ever since Jodie was a little girl, Uncle Dick had been there like some enticing, forbidden fruit to turn to. Her parents, like the rest of the family, had written Dick off years ago. His gentle, poetic, soft voice seemed strangely at variance with his ragged blue jeans and wild unbrushed beard. But on the odd occasion when he had stayed at the house, there had been a deep rapport and understanding between the shy, long-legged school girl and the dissatisfied, searching student.
At night, when he would come into her room to say good night and read the soft sounds of his poetry over her sleepy head, it had somehow seemed normal and proper that his hand should slip comfortingly under the thin coverings of the sheets and fondle her drowsy body as she lay relaxed.
As the years had passed and she had sprung into a firm, rounded maturity, he had still continued the childish pretense of reading aloud to her as his questing hands searched out the twin lemons of her tits, the gentle pressure of his rotating palms stimulating her until she spread her legs as if half asleep, allowing him to caress her moist, palpitating pussy.
The beauty of his poetry washed over her yielding body like some heavy incense, causing her to believe that this was how a man should approach a woman. Gently, insistently, with words of love on his tongue and the imagery of words probing deeper and deeper like impassioned fingers into her eager young body.
Sighing, Jodie turned away from the mirror. How different the reality was from the dream. Her father had been right when he accused her of being with Tony Garcia.
When he had asked her shyly whether she would let him take her to the graduation dance, her heart had been sick with sympathy for him. All she had read about the struggles of the underprivileged minorities raced through her mind. Here, she thought, was an opportunity to show that all middle class white Americans were not embittered and prejudiced like her parents.
As he spoke to her, his tongue fluid around the unaccustomed American words, his trusting brown eyes seemed to speak a language of need that struck an answering chord deep within Jodie's loneliness. The courteous half-bow he gave her before he strode off across the schoolyard clinched the matter. Here was the heir to a race who had kept their dignity and breeding in spite of the jibes of the luckier white race.
And tonight at the dance, she had known that she had been right. He had been so punctiliously correct in his treatment of her, agreeing so eagerly with her views and opinions, that she hardly noticed the warning signs as his hands brushed against her breast as he handed her coffee and soft drinks. Or the overfamiliar way he rubbed his crotch against the yielding vee of her stomach as they danced together.
It wasn't until he stopped his beatup Chevrolet on the quiet street leading to Jodie's house that the situation began to get out of hand.
At first, Jodie had surrendered herself to his shy, almost sexless kisses. Gradually, as he sensed her acquiescence, the young Mexican's passionate nature had insisted on more and more liberties with Jodie's limp and passive body.
With a quickness that alarmed her, Tony had jerked her breast free from the low-cut party dress and sought the firm rosy flesh of her nipples with his eager, panting mouth. Confused by the turn of events, Jodie had lain quietly at first, believing that the gift of her tender tits would in some way recompense Tony for all the injustices that her people had heaped upon the minority groups. As if the pain she felt as Tony's strong white teeth pulled and bit at the sensitive points of her aroused nipples would cleanse her of the guilt she felt for the actions of her forefathers.
Torn between pain and the mounting desire that now swept like a consuming fire through her eager stimulated twat, she lay back on the cold plastic of the car seat and tried to imagine that it was the tender lover of her dreams whose hot breath caressed her saliva-wet boobs. The compliant martyrdom was shattered as Tony reached for her hand and guided it down to the rampant, bulging prick that he had eased out of his trousers.
Fearfully she grasped the distended staff as he moved her waist in a slow pumping motion. As she felt the ripple of the blood-gorged tissue under the velvety cock skin, she became revolted and frightened by the animalism that seemed to throb through the naked member in her hand.
Tony's breathing deteriorated into a series of grunts as he guided the soft palm of her hand onto the tender glans at the bulging head of his ramrod.
His other hand left the softness of her tits and fastened like a vise behind her blonde head. Slowly, she felt her head being forced lower and lower toward the oozing purple head of Tony's immense penis.
Helplessly, like a captive, mesmerized bird, she watched the snakelike dong coming nearer, inexorably nearer to her open awe-struck mouth. She could hardly hear Tony's harsh demand over the beat of her heart.
"Get your mouth around seven inches of Chicano prick and start sucking, baby."
Tentatively, she reached out with her red, pointed tongue and sampled the tang of the crystal-clear emissions that dripped from the opening of his urethra.
The queer alien taste terrified her in its primitive sea-like saltiness. She felt unclean, as if she were reliving some forgotten moment in time when man's first ancestors crawled out of the steaming mud to copulate.
Alarmed, she jerked her head away from the threatening intruder. Tony's once soft voice became a snarl as he reached for her in the darkness of the car.
"You prick-teasing bitch. You'll finish what you started."
His grasping hands fastened on the scooped neckline of her dress. As Jodie struggled to free herself, the delicate lace front parted under the pull of his brown hands. With a cry of animal victory, he thrust his face deeply into the yielding cushion of her boobs.
Jodie felt her hand being forced down again toward the throbbing eagerness of his dong. As her fingers brushed along the unbelievably hard length of it, she felt the soft bag of his balls drop into her hand. In panic, she clutched at them and pulled hard. The agonized scream that burst from the tortured lips of the young would-be assailant terrified her, causing her to grasp his compressed balls even tighter.
Reaching behind her, she felt for the car door handle with her free hand. Within seconds, she was racing up the path to the security of her home. But instead of being able to sob out the story of her escape to warm understanding parents, she had been forced to hide in her room and try to forget the experience in tears.
Her father, for one, would never believe that she had not behaved like some heated bitch and allowed the Mexican to plunge his probe into the tender flesh of her girlish cunt. In her father's opinion, any girl who wore brief miniskirts and semitransparent blouses was rushing down the road to the nearest cathouse.
As if summoned by her thoughts, she became aware of her father's voice calling her name insistently through the locked door.
"Jodie, do you hear me, Jodie? Open this door before I break the goddamned thing down!"
Instinctively, Jodie backed away from the anger in his voice, and she watched the handle of the door turn as her father spoke again.
"This is your last chance. In three seconds, I'm going to break in!"
Petrified, Jodie backed toward the bed and clutched the silken sheet around her. The flimsy bedroom door shuddered as her father's foot crashed against the lock panel. Unable to withstand the onslaught, the wood splintered and the door slammed back against the wall deafeningly.
Her mother's high squeal of fear followed her father's hunched menacing figure into the room.
"Elgin, what are you doing? Have you gone out of your mind?"
Her father's face was white with anger as he turned to answer his wife. "Everything's under control, hon. Your baby daughter has grown up and it's time that she and I had a little talk. Make a couple of highballs. I'll be down in a little while."
The timid birdlike mother peeped over the bulk of her husband's obscuring shoulders. "But, Elgin," she twittered. "Look at my baby. She's tired. Let's talk to her in the morning."
"No, damn it. She wants discipline, and tonight she's going to get it. No daughter of mine gets away with wearing those funny clothes and keeping me up till this hour."
His eyes seemed riveted on the voluptuous outline of his daughter's ripe body as she tightened the folds of the sheet around her.
He half turned toward his wife. "Get downstairs and stay out of this, will you? I'll deal with her in my own way. She wants a lesson that you can't give her."
Obediently, Jodie's mother left the room after giving one last worried look at her half-naked, unprotected daughter.
As the sound of his wife's shoes clicked down the stairs, Elgin Hamilton swung the bedroom door closed and wedged a chair under the broken handle.
He spun on his heel and faced his daughter. His voice was tight and strained as he spoke. "And now, my dear, we are going to get down to the bottom of things. Your bottom, in fact."
His hand trembled as he undid the buckle of his fashionably wide leather belt. His voice cracked across the room like a whip. "Get your pants down and get on the bed!"
Whimpering, Jodie pressed back against the wall. The whole scene had become a nightmare that she prayed she would awake from. The sound of her father's heavy breathing as he came toward her jolted Jodie back to the present.
His hand reached out for her and stupidly she concentrated on the black hairs that sprouted from under his cuff. His voice came to her down a black tunnel of fear.
"If you won't take it willingly, I'll make you take it!"
She felt his hand on her, pulling her toward the bed. Pulling, yanking on the thin sheet that covered her naked defenseless young body, Jodie felt the fabric slipping through her clutching fingers. The friction of the soft material dried the cold sweat of fear that glistened on her skin like dew.
Low, private sounds came from her father's wet lips as he struggled with her. It was almost as if he felt that the most important thing was to have his daughter naked and prostrate before him. With a cry of triumph, the overwrought inarticulate man succeeded and flung the silken sheet behind him.
Jodie's hands flew instinctively to cover the proud flesh of her boobs.
"Put your hands down. I want to look at you," her father commanded.
Mutely, Jodie shook her head, squeezing her fingers shut so that the pink buds of her nipples were hidden from his searching eyes. Her father's hands fastened on hers like two vises. She was powerless against his greater strength and felt her protecting hands sink lower and lower, giving into him.
Her defiant upthrusting breasts leaped from their captivity, the red revealed nipples like two eyes detachedly watching the struggling hands in front of them.
"What the hell is that on your tits?" Her father's voice almost sounded relieved as if his confirmed suspicions gave him the freedom for what was to follow. Glancing down quickly, Jodie saw the unmistakable imprints of Tony's teeth in bright red arcs around her puckered nipples.
"Just as I thought," her father thundered. "You'll let any wetback with a hard on make free with your body, but you're too high and mighty to let your father have even a glimpse of you. We'll alter all that right now."
Suiting his action to his words, he ripped the fragile panties from her in one quick movement.
"Now get on the bed," he rasped. "I'm going to check you out real close and find out what else you've let these punks do to you."
Fear had made her incapable of uttering a sound. The dry taste of panic seemed to gum her tongue to the roof of her working mouth. Picking her up easily in his strong arms, her father carried her struggling body across the room and toward the bed. His hard, brutal fingers sank deep into the compliant softness of Jodie's ivory skin.
As she struggled, her body half turned in the tight restriction of her captor's arms, and his hand cupped the fullness of his daughter's boob. An electric convulsion seemed to shake him as he felt the forbidden fruit of his daughter's breast yield to his manipulating fingers.
Despite Jodie's repugnance, a hot surge of helpless longing seemed to spark inside the captive tit and flame like a raging fire through her girlish body.
Her frightened blue eyes filled with uncontrollable tears, choking her voice as she spoke.
"Daddy, Daddy, why are you doing this to me?"
Some half-forgotten impulse made her cuddle closer to him and her words were muffled in his shoulder. It was as if the years had blown away in the strong wind of their passion and she was a small child again being carried to bed by her adoring father.
Her father's voice seemed almost tender as he answered through the thick mass of her close-pressed hair.
"Because I love you, baby. I love you in a way that frightens me at times. You are a symbol to me. A symbol of what a woman should be like. Fine and clean. Pure and unapproachable."
His voice broke as his emotion overcame him. "And what the hell is happening to you? You dress like a tramp. Any man who has eyes can stare at your boobs through those goddamn see-through blouses. You show your legs right up to the cheeks of your ass. You give your body to stinking Mexicans and yet you won't even let me look at you."
The intensity of his voice drove the meaning of his words into Jodie's mind like red-hot nails. The memory of classes she had sat through in high school emerged from the recesses of her brain. Psychology I, with Mr. Leech explaining human behavioral patterns, the Oedipus complex, nymphophilia, galateaism... Her father was sick-sick mentally-and had transferred his demanding, mature love into a desire for the untouched body of his teenaged daughter.
A sob raked through Jodie's naked body. Oh, God. What dark labyrinth of deviation were they both stumbling into?
She felt herself being thrown onto the soft coverlet of her bed. Her nude body sprawled across the crimson bed cover like some ancient sacrificial victim, some helpless offering in an Old Testament story. But now there was no fiery prophet to cry, 'Thou shalt not sin."
Like some blood-crazy high priest, her father stood over her. His words seemed to fill the room in their authority. "Spread your legs, like you did for the Mexican."
Frantically Jodie tried to cover her snatch with her hands.
Her father smiled maliciously. "Okay, if that's how you want it, there is a punishment for disobedience." The thick leather belt seemed to appear from nowhere as it came snaking down across her unprotected body. A searing flash of pain cut across Jodie's stomach as the harsh leather tongue licked her flesh.
Again her father's punishing arm rose and fell. Gauging his blows, he aimed at the red imprints of Tony's teeth on his daughter's breasts, as if trying to burn them out with the lash of his belt. The soft flesh trembled and sank as if trying to absorb the pain of the biting leather thong. A long red weal showed the path of the searing avenger across the tenderness of her shuddering, heaving knockers.
Slowly the fresh, angry scar covered and assimilated the faint pink indentations of the Mexican's toothmarks.
Her father nodded, satisfied. "I guess that takes care of what he did to your tits. I've blotted him out, but good."
His eyes slid slowly over the rest of his daughter's trembling body, seeking, examining, exploring every exposed inch of her flesh for further signs of her sinfulness.
Reaching over her, he yanked her legs apart. She gritted her teeth as she felt his eyes sliding like snails over the white surface of her inner thighs. Up and up they slid until they leeched upon the forbidden succulence of her gaping young pussy. He licked his lips nervously as if in fear of this illegal, proscribed situation that his doubts and fears had forced them into.
Swallowing his choking saliva, he cleared his throat before speaking. "Guess I can't tell what you've let them do till I've looked inside."
Jodie tensed herself as she felt his hands fasten on the plumpness of her thighs as his stubby thumbs inserted themselves into the down-covered outer lips of her vagina.
In spite of her brain flashing a warning message, repeating, repeating "NO... NO... NO" in her pounding brain, her untouched pussy responded to the stimulus of the forbidden, incestuous fingers exploring the mystery of her maidenhood. As if spontaneously, a warm hot flood of desire coursed through her, causing the crystal-clear fluid to ooze and sparkle from her flowerlike love pit. One tentative finger slid exploringly into the unused tightness of her vaginal passage. Delicately, haltingly, a screaming lifelong millimeter at a time, the probing finger advanced until it was almost in register with the tender membrane of her maidenhead.
Magically it halted and her father's wondering voice came to her above a roaring sea of desire. "You know, kid, you might still be cherry at that."
He withdrew his fingers gently. The love juice glistened on them and smeared against her spread thighs.
He spoke again, his voice remote, like a surgeon who had just performed a satisfactory operation. "You keep it that way, do you hear me? Just to make sure, I'm going to check you-out every time you come home. This way, I'll make sure that no daughter of mine is hawking herself about like an alleycat."
Threading his belt back through the loops of his flared mod trousers, he smiled at her conspiratorially and left the room.
Jodie lay and stared at the broken door that swung to behind him. Her mind balked at the implications of the threats he had made to her. This was totally impossible, unbearable.
Gently easing her beaten, outraged body up from the bed, she padded about the room, collecting a few of her clothes and stuffing them into an overnight bag.
As far as she was concerned, this was the end. She was splitting, leaving this sick situation far behind her, and looking for somewhere she could live in dignity, peace and mutual trust. But where, that was the question. She had no money apart from a few dollars. Her friends' parents couldn't be expected to put her up in the middle of the night unless she explained the reason for her precipitous flight. And some outworn sense of family loyalty prevented her from exposing her father's sex-mad sickness for all the world to drool over.
A sudden thought came to her as she closed the lid of her packed case. Uncle Dick. That was it. She'd phone him right away. He'd understand and tell her what she should do. Her fingers fumbled as she dialed the number of his Hollywood pad. The cold remoteness of the ringing tone terrified her with the thought that he might be out and unable to help her.
There was a click, and the familiar comforting voice of her childhood friend and confidant answered sleepily.
"Dick here. What's happening out there?"
The words spilled from Jodie in a confused babble as she tried to explain what had happened.
CHAPTER TWO
Her uncle cut into the torrent of her words. "Cool it, Jodie. You still got your car,, right? Leave right now. No good-byes or anything. Don't tell them where you're going. Just get over here immediately..."
As she listened to the familiar comforting sound of her uncle's words, the fear and revulsion seemed to leave Jodie's mind. As a snake sloughs its skin and emerges afresh to face its world, so it was with her. She felt pure and purposeful again and able to go into a new, clean world with confidence. The horror of the last few hours had fallen from her and she was young, pure and trusting once more.
Her voice was childlike and eager as she breathed goodbye into the receiver before turning to scan the room where she had spent her childhood. As she gazed over the old familiar objects of her bedroom, she realized with a blinding clarity that she had left her innocence behind her and had no further use for her childhood possessions. What had happened between her and her father in this room had put a period to her girlhood and she was now ready to emerge from the chrysalis of her youth.
Determined, she picked up the overnight case containing a few clothes, turned, and silently walked away from the trauma of her past. Closing the broken, gaping door quietly, she tiptoed past her parents' bedroom and headed for the stairs.
A low, confused murmur of voices pursued her from behind their door. The high-pitched interrogation of her mother played a duet with the deeper bass of her father's answers. A shudder of revulsion shook Jodie's slim frame. The low, steady assurance of her father's voice sounded so goddamned righteous. Only she knew him for the sick, perverted beast that he really was.
Her passage through the darkness of the house was ghostlike in its quietness. The girl who had once believed and dreamed in the false security of her father's house had died, and an adult knowledgeable young woman was leaving in her place.
The front door closed behind her with a solid, wooden sound like the closing of a coffin lid on the dead past. Her feet crunched on the raked gravel of the front drive before she stepped onto the soft green of the well-kept lawn. Taking the shortcut beside the garage, she reached her car, parked by the little-used rear entrance.
Seating herself behind the wheel of the yellow Triumph, she cautiously eased the motor into life and drove off quietly into her new adventure.
The side streets of suburban Beverly Hills were deserted and eerie as the noise of the Triumph's exhaust echoed back from the sleeping houses.
Occasionally the shaded light from some bedroom window brought her mind back to the horror she had experienced in the last few hours. God alone knew what perversions were being practiced behind those tightly shuttered windows. The trim gardens and dignified houses might well harbor secrets as hideous as the one that had driven her from the similar house of her childhood.
Thankfully she reached the intersection of Robertson and Santa Monica Boulevards. Turning right, she let herself merge with the bustling enthusiasm of the Hollywood-bound traffic. In a few short minutes, she would be in Hollywood- glamorous, crazy, vibrant Hollywood, where people went to be themselves. No matter what you were running away from, there was always Hollywood to escape to-an oasis that did not question the thirsty, lost souls who flocked to its gushing fountains.
The traffic slowed as she reached the town's center. Everyone, tourist and resident alike, was reluctant to let the ever-changing spectacle of this crazy metropolis rush past his speeding car.
Scanning the sidewalks as she drove, Jodie felt her heart settle peacefully. These were her kind of people. Many of them were early teenagers like herself. No doubt Jodie's story would have a familiar ring to many of the young, hippie-garbed girls who dreamed along the star-studded cement pavements in front of the theaters and shops. They too had walked out of intolerable situations to seek the reality of their hopes.
With a start, Jodie realized that she had nearly missed Highland Boulevard and Uncle Dick's turn-off. Easing her car into the center of the road, she made a left and headed into one of the quiet backwaters of older frame houses that hide behind the glamorous better-known frontages of Hollywood. Into these little pockets had dropped a collection of human flotsam from the entire world.
Technicians from the nearby studios rubbed shoulders with dark-skinned foreign students from distant countries. Beaded hippies did their thing in rundown shacks, while next door an elderly housewife nagged her husband into buying the latest gimmick she had seen on television. Because of their many differences, the inhabitants of these communities had learned to live in isolated toleration of their neighbors.
True to form, no curtains twitched or busybodies watched as Jodie's car stopped in the short concrete drive in front of Dick Hamilton's pad.
A candle flickered fitfully behind the multi-hued serape that served as a front room curtain. And the faint sounds of hard rock music dribbled out of the front doorway.
Jodie's heels clicked as she made her way toward the dark invitation of the unlit doorway. Running her eyes over the variety of stained posters, she searched for the bell among the statements that "God is Love" and "War is Bad Karma." A final poster was pinned crookedly to the doorpost. A top-hatted Uncle Sam pointed a solicitous finger at her head and asked, "Have you taken your pill today?"
Jodie smiled in the darkness. Really, her Uncle Dick was a nut. She shook her head as she thought of the static that would result if the front door of her father's sedate Beverly Hills mansion displayed these vividly colored prints.
Giving up her search for the bell, Jodie's long fingernail tapped timidly on the doorknob beside her. The sound of movement came to her from inside the room as Dick eased his lanky body out of the sagging bed and made his barefooted way into the gloom of the hall.
His voice sounded relieved as he peered into the dimness toward Jodie. "You made it, Jodie baby. Come in. Come in." He motioned her to follow him into the candlelit room he had emerged from. Trustingly Jodie walked through the household smells of steak cooking and the vague acrid smell of pot that seemed to have penetrated into the very structure of the house itself. After the gloom of the hallway, the candlelit room seemed relatively well-lighted, enabling her to scrutinize it as she paused for a moment before entering.
The room contained no more than the barest essentials, and yet it managed to appear crowded. Against one wall stood an old, brass-posted bed, its sagging springs giving mute testimony to its constant usage. Above it, a four-foot full-color poster depicted a sunlit girl walking naked through a field of yellow flowers. The other walls were covered with books on home-made shelving. Music came from an expensive hi-fi and record player perched on concrete building blocks in the fireplace. In the center of the room, a table groaned under the accumulated litter of writing materials and opened books. A cardboard container from a MacDonald's hamburger stand stared back at Jodie greasily from its hiding place behind the typewriter. The stained carpet was threadbare in the areas around the door and fireplace.
Sensing her reluctance, her uncle turned toward her and smiled. "I know it's not what you are used to, but come in and relax. The vibes are good and there's food out in the icebox." He waved his hand towards the bed. "Sit down, lie down, anything. But for Christ sake, quit looking like a social worker visiting the needy."
Jodie felt the old warmth flooding back into her at Dick's ribbing tone. She perched, birdlike, on the edge of the unmade bed and smiled up at him feebly. There was warmth and depth in Dick's answering grin.
"That's better. Remember us? We refugees from 'way back. You and I together and screw the rest of the world."
He turned toward the door. "You look like you need something more than words. The landlord has given the inmates a room in the back that he expansively refers to as a kitchen. I'm going to make two cups of cocoa. You just sit here and soak in the atmosphere 'til I get back."
He turned on his heel and left Jodie alone in the room. Tentatively she eased herself farther onto the bed. A raw stab of pain shot through her bruised and beaten ass as it made closer contact with the lumpy mattress. Gritting her teeth, she stood up and, lifting the skimpy miniskirt, attempted to inspect the painful reminders of her father's outburst. Easing her pantyhose down, she waddled over to the mirror above the fireplace. By bending over and craning her neck, the rounded mounds of her bottom were visible in the reflecting glass. Two angry red welts blazed across the soft smooth velvet of her firm buttocks. Gingerly she touched them with her fingers and felt the renewal of her previous agony. A low moan broke from her open mouth, masking the quiet approach of her uncle with the two cups of cocoa.
The first knowledge of his presence came with his incredulous laugh.
"What the hell are you doing? Warming up my supper?"
Embarrassed, she straightened up and faced him. The tears of pain glistened in the corners of her eyes and cut short Dick's bantering tone. He reached out for her as she attempted to pull her pantyhose over the raw flesh of her behind.
His voice was concerned and sympathetic as he asked, "Have you hurt yourself, kid? Let me look."
Jodie attempted to withdraw herself from his embrace.
"Stop playing the prude. I used to bathe you before you knew what it was for. Turn around and I'll see what I can do."
Obediently Jodie surrendered herself to the firm masculinity of his demand. A cry of dismay forced itself through Dick's pursed lips as he saw the brutal punishment that her young flesh has suffered.
"Did my brother do this to you, baby?"
Jodie's eyes looked at him helplessly through her tears. She nodded her head. Cold, implacable disgust ran through Dick's barely audible words.
"The miserable, no-good son of a bitch. I'll see that he gets his if it's the last thing that I do."
He framed Jodie's tear-stained face in his hands and kissed her lightly on the forehead.
"What else did he do to you? We'll get to the whys later."
Without speaking, Jodie slowly undid the buttons on her blouse and peeled the covering skin of cotton from her own scarred flesh. Appreciatively Dick's eyes took in the forming beauty of his niece's young body until his eyes rested on the vivid imprints emblazoned across the succulence of her ripe breasts. Unbelievingly he shook his head as if to evaluate the workings of a mind that could outrage a daughter's body in such a brutal manner.
"That settles it. You're staying here until we get things straightened out. That goddamned animal should be behind bars. You're not safe around him."
Taking her hand, Dick led her tenderly over to the ramshackle bed. "Lie down, sweetheart. I'm going to get something to ease the pain a little."
He left the room for a minute to return bearing a bottle of suntan lotion. "This should take some of the sting out of it. The oil will soothe and the astringent will dull the pain."
Trustingly Jodie let him pour out the sweet-smelling oil until it formed a pool between the twin swelling of her superb tits. Gently, caressingly, Dick's fingers worked their way over the ivory whiteness of her breasts until they were following the angry red path of the painful weals. The first few strokes of their passage caused unbearable jabs of pain until the questing fingers began to circle the abused nipples. Slowly she found the consciousness of agony sinking lower and lower until the pleasant stimulus of his teasing fingers blotted out all but the sensual response of her aroused and firming nipples.
Her mouth parted and the heartwrenching sobs of pain became a low murmur of animal content.
"Oh, Dick. I do love you so. You are so good to me.
Dick's response was noncommittal. "Somebody needs to be good to you. You poor little devil. You've had enough misery to last for a lifetime." He smiled at her fondly. "Now try to kneel up on the bed. I'm going to try and get some oil on your rear end as well."
Jodie's childlike nature responded dutifully. The sympathy and concern of her uncle broke through any barriers of inhibition that she might have attempted to hide behind if another man had made the same request. The bed creaked as she transferred her weight onto her knees and elbows. The clean sweep of her thighs erupted into the voluptuous rotundity of her buttocks, along the slight sway of her arched back, to end in the rich profusion of her flowing hair. The small babylike face hid its expression behind the fall of her sweeping blonde locks.
From where Dick knelt before the bed, the twin cones of her adolescent breasts hung symmetrically from the walls of her heaving chest. Her stomach was taut and tense with the pain that radiated from the raw stripes across her body. Dick murmured low, soft phrases, like a handler to a frightened horse.
"Gently, baby. There now, easy, easy...
As he spoke, he flooded the palm of his hands with the soothing oil and carefully applied it to the livid stripes across her ass. An appreciative, almost catlike purr came from low in Jodie's throat and spilled through the hair that hung around her hidden face.
"Oh, that feels so much better. Gently, gently."
As he massaged her contused breasts and buttocks, Dick's eyes traversed the beautiful young body that lay in eye-closed surrender before him.
"Is there anywhere else, Jodie? Anything else that he did to you that I can't see?"
Jodie's voice was distant and resigned as she answered. "Well, he tried to... er... look inside my... er, you know. He put his finger into me and said if other men could, I should let him as well."
Dick's massaging hand faltered for a second. "Thank Christ you kept your head and phoned me.
Jodie's flowing hair shook as she nodded her blonde head. "You are the only person I could talk to."
She turned her head and shook the hair from her face. A slow, grateful smile transformed her tortured expression. "I love you, Uncle Dick. Right now it seems that you are the only worthwhile, decent person I know in the whole wide world. The only one that I can believe in."
She thrust her buttocks higher into the air, her ripe young pussy seeking his caressing hand like the flanks of an eager puppy demanding attention.
"Uncle Dick. Would you make me clean again?" Her voice was vibrant with hope. "It feels so good and healing as you rub that oil on my body. Rub some on me where he had his horrible fingers. Help me to forget what he did to me, please. Please..."
Her uncle's voice was as soothing as a lullaby as his oil-slick hand slipped over the pliancy of her plump ass. Still kneading and rotating with his palm, he allowed his fingers to wander nearer and nearer to her delicious honeypot as he murmured throaty words of affection to the acquiescent girl.
Imperceptibly, he altered the position of his stroking hand until it had abandoned all pretense of easing the pain in her beaten brutalized ass and was unashamedly massaging the mound of her virginal slit. Increasing his pressure a little as he judged her initial shock had diminished, his greasy, frictionless fingers began to ease into the flowerlike folds of her moist cunt. The oil combined with the crystal-clear juices that had involuntarily flooded her unknowing love pit. The combination imparted a velvety smoothness to the pink convolutions of her saturated slit. The motion of Dick's flexible fingers increased until he was rubbing his cupped hand along the complete length of her upthrust cunt. The outside fingers slid effortlessly over the nearly hairless outer lips, while the questing, crooked middle finger plowed the furrow of her sweet girlhood.
The sensation was indescribable as the electric messages ran through the unused telegraph system of her erotic nerves. Bells jangled in her brain insistently, repeating... repeating the demand. More. More. More. The red intensity of her awakened passion scorched through her, burning out all memory of the abuse and bestiality of the experience with her sex-sick father.
This ecstatic emotion that she was feeling under the manipulating caress of Uncle Dick was outside anything she had dreamed possible in the short seventeen years of her unloved childhood. She had looked into the mind of her uncle, listened to his winged words as he read to her, transmitting his innermost thoughts to her through the medium of his poetry. His mind, she knew, was as pure and as idealistic as her own. And now, through the instrument of her body, he was enabling her to experience the same Olympian heights that she felt he lived on. Dick's probing finger sought and found the dormant bud of her tiny clitoris. A few life-long seconds of encirclement with his finger brought it throbbing into blossoming desire. A shudder ran through her body as the stimulation convulsed her. Watching, Dick saw the angles of her breasts sharpen as the supporting muscles tensed under the delicate pits of her arms. The pink jujubes of her nipples puckered and swelled until they stood out from the darker red of the surrounding areolas-succulent, sugared cocktail cherries tempting his parched impassioned mouth. Through the pounding, throbbing heartbeats in his ears, Dick heard her voice coming to him in a low, throaty murmur.
"Dick. Darling. Come into bed. Hold me close, please... please."
Without ceasing his manipulation of her eagerly pulsing twat, Dick fumbled for the buckle of his belt. Awkwardly he eased the leather thong through the tirass buckle and pulled the zipper down on his bulging pants. His stiff prick leapt from its confinement like an eager stallion. Removing his hand from its moist plaything, he slipped his shirt from his sweating chest. Falling on the bed beside her, he lifted one plump thigh across his head and saw the pink gash of her savory pussy poised and waiting above him. The golden fuzz of her girlish pubic hair gleamed in a futile attempt to mask the eagerness of the twitching twat below it. The lips of her vagina were practically hairless, sporting an almost indescribable fuzz that matched the burnished sheen of her silky blonde head.
With a low moan, he reached for her trembling hips and pulled the tasty morsel onto his open mouth. The tangy flavor of her juices dripped and flooded his face as he ran his tongue along the sweet length of her love pit. A wet slurping sound rose above the impassioned groans of Jodie's surrender as Dick's tongue lapped and scooped at the tight-muscled opening of her vaginal passage. Instinctively, Jodie thrust her awakened nest tighter onto Dick's face, pressing his nose against her twitching love button as his tongue worked deeper and deeper into the secret, untouched honey jar above him.
Jodie floated on purple clouds of delight, high above the commonplace monotony of all she had ever known. Dick was the man who had shown her the way to such ecstasy. Her mind raced frantically. Was there anything that she could do to let him share the glory that pulsated through her? There must be some way that she could show her delight and appreciation of all that he was doing for her. Opening her eyes, she tried to seek inspiration through the tears of abandoned joy that filled them. Looking down, she saw that a monstrous, iron-hard salami-like thing thrust itself upward from Dick's hairy groin. The memory flooded back to her of the Mexican boy, and her struggles in the back of his car.
He too had offered her his hard fleshy staff, telling her to "suck it, baby, like you've never sucked before."
How true his words had been. Right now she was going to suck a cock like she had never sucked before, because this awe-inspiring rod that throbbed inches from her eyes would be the first one ever. Experimentally she opened her mouth and made a pad of her warm red tongue. Taking the base of her uncle's tool in her encircling fingers, she guided the impossible mouthful towards her wide-open lips.
Timidly she pointed her tongue and let it flicker across the purple-headed monster. As she squeezed on the muscular base of his pecker, a drop of clear lubricating emission oozed from the urethra opening. Again her darting tongue thrust out toward its prey. Lingering for a moment, it lapped up the dewlike drop and withdrew back into the security of her saliva-filled mouth. A thin, glistening thread marked the path of her tongue's movement and hung in a gossamer-thin web from her pouting lips to the pulsing prick she had just tasted. She could feel her uncle's breathing change its tempo as it ruffled the delicate down of her pubic hairs. Sensing his satisfaction, she again pulled the firmness of his dong toward her open mouth.
Slowly, timidly, she eased the intruder past her full lips until the entire knob was lying on her tongue in a moist pool of saliva. The dribbling urethra leaked its love juice and merged with the profuse secretions of her own stimulated taste buds until the well below her juicy tongue was filled to overflowing.
Unthinking, she swallowed, causing her tongue to slide along the sensitive underside of Dick's dong. The effect was as if she had applied a bare electric wire to the sensitive flesh and not a wet red tongue. The reflex started at the mouth-filling tip of his tool and convulsed through his leaping body to end in a most satisfying manner. Pleased with the result, she repeated the experiment. By seeking out the spots that caused the greatest response, she soon found where to apply her ferreting tongue to the best advantage. Dick redoubled his own efforts and sent his tongue darting along the soft meat of her eager pussy.
It was like a perfect dance team, each one following the lead of the other. Not only the intensity but the location of her partner's questing tongue could be directed by altering the tempo on the tasty skin flute that Jodie blew a tune on. Breathing a little sigh of contentment, Jodie settled down to work seriously on the newly discovered delights.
Tenderly she eased the unfamiliar length of her uncle's probe deeper into the hot, questing depths of her mouth until the hard flesh of the knob was held firmly between her tongue and the roof of her palate. Sucking firmly, she tried to draw the erect staff deeper into her. The movements of her tongue along his dilated member sent Dick into fresh paroxysms of endeavor.
His licking tongue flickered into every nectar-holding fold of Jodie's sweet honeypot until it found and concentrated on the expanded pod of her clit. Despite her youth and virginity, the fleshy protrusion was hard and eagerly responded to his ministrations.
Thrusting his lips forward, he sucked lovingly on the little bean until he had managed to draw it into his mouth. Closing his teeth around it, he held it captive while his tongue revolved steadily around the responsive prisoner. Jodie increased still further the insistent sucking caress of her frantic mouth in a wild endeavor to match the unbearable pleasure that her uncle was tonguing her toward.
The bed groaned and swayed unheard as they left the world of reality and disappeared into a blood-pounding, passionate heaven of their own. Jodie's hips worked convulsively as she ground herself down upon her partner, oblivious to all but the hot tongue that darted rays of fire throughout her panting body. Her clutching hands stopped their up-and-down massage for a moment as she eased the swollen, jerking rod out of her mouth.
Her voice was wondering and half afraid as she gasped, "Dick, darling. What are you doing to me? What's happening? I feel all funny and tingling inside as if I'm going to explode."
Dick's reply was muffled by her still-rotating twat as the words vibrated against the wet, spread lips of her pussy.
"It means... Jodie baby... that you're coming any minute. Me too... don't stop..."
Obediently the girl closed her mouth over the erect tool as she wondered whether it was humanly possible to go beyond the state of ecstasy that she was already in. A few lifelong seconds later, she knew.
The complacency of her childhood world exploded into a million bursting stars as she reached the crescendo of her first climax. All her doubts and fears were swept away in deluging spasms of roaring intensity and she rode the crest of sexuality into the new world of adulthood.
At the curling, incredible peak of her own release, she felt the passive extension of her partner's manhood jerk and harden to intolerable proportions, filling her already strained and submissive mouth with its enormity. Dick's voice seemed to come to her out of a beautiful red and violet sunset.
As if in response to his spoken words, the mouth-filling instrument began to pump hot, viscous fluid into her mouth. Her hands could feel the surging passage of the seminal fluid through the discharging weapon she held so tight. Like a child on a teat, she drew the milky fluid from the spouting head and gulped it down hungrily. There was a symbolic Tightness that appealed to her. As she was being drained of the pent-up years of love-starved existence, as she could feel the hot discharge of her overwrought body flowing through her saturated vagina, so could she feel the strength and assurance of her mature and worldly uncle pumping into her mouth to be absorbed by ac love-starved body.
Tenderly she drew the softening prick out to its full length. Swallowing the now limp penis to its full extent, she clamped her firm young lips around the hairy base and milked her sucking mouth inch by inch upward until the dripping head alone remained in the hot recess of her mouth. A thin, watery vestige was all that remained of the gushing torrent of a few sensuous moments ago. Sighing contentedly, she held it in her mouth until it was permeated by her saliva, then swallowed it down to join the rest of what she felt was his essence deep inside her. Dick groaned and eased his head from the vise of her locked legs. Sitting up, he reached for a corner of the crumpled bedsheet and wiped the glistening love juices from his face.
"Do you want to know something?" he asked her happily. "I have waited for that moment for many long years. When you were a little kid, I knew that this was going to happen someday. And my little darling, it was well worth waiting for. I love you, Jodie. No, don't say anything."
He held his hand up as she was about to break in. "Let me finish first. I love you. I've dreamt about you. Written poetry about you. Lived in a kind of waking sleep, knowing, believing that you would come to me eventually. In you, Jodie, I have known that there was something good and unsullied and that perhaps I could catch a glimpse of it through loving you. Stay with me, Jodie. I'll write. Write about you as no woman has been written about before. You have just felt what we are to each other. Believe me, that's just the start. I will not force you, but one day, when you say you are ready, we will consummate our love. Instead of entering you through your mouth, as glorious as it is, I will merge into your body. Symbolically we will be as one. You and I and screw the rest of the money-grubbing world. Here, let me read to you. Not something that I've written, but words that man wrote to a woman a thousand years ago."
He stood up shakily and went to the bookcase. Running his hands along the stacked volumes, he selected one and sat down again on the bed beside her.
"The Song of Solomon," he said quietly. "Did you ever read it, love?"
Jodie shook her sweat-wet, tousled head.
Dick smiled at her. Moistening his finger, he opened the book and turned the pages. Then his deep voice began to speak the old, biblical words of a love song that had haunted men for a thousand years. Jodie let herself sink behind the meaning of this recital into a warm, comforting world of a girl's first love.
Imperceptibly, as Dick finished the first few verses and began the erotic catalogue of the lovers' bodies, his hands followed the caress of his voice and strayed sensuously over the soft curves of Jodie's reclining, permissive body. The fingers of his stroking hands ruffled through the blonde pubic hair of her arched mound of Venus as his words played across her naked body like a soft tropical breeze.
"Your stomach a golden mound of wheat, Ringed with scarlet anemones, Whilst your breasts are as two shy fawns, The twins of..."
His words became lost in the mounting rise of Jodie's desire as Dick's fingers found the pink ripeness of her berrylike nipples. Odd, broken phrases came to her over the throb of pulsing blood in her ears.
"How charming thou are beloved, How meet for the pleasures of love..."
Jodie felt the hard grasp of his hands as they cupped her breasts, forcing the tender pink nipples to aroused points. His fingers tweaked and stimulated their pliant playthings as his voice droned on.
"Her breasts like polished marble...
Thereon, like apples of the pomegranate, two glistening jewels..."
The soft murmur of his voice ceased and Jodie became aware of the masculine muscularity of his body as he slipped into bed beside her. Kittenlike and contented, she snuggled close to the assurance of his mansmell. In a trance of desire, she felt the hard insistence of his erection as it pressed against her stomach. A cry of need broke from her as she slid her head along his rough chest hairs until her open mouth found the ready thrust of his waiting tool. Her breath was warm upon his bulging, purple-headed penis as she spoke. "Give me all of you, darling. Let me take you completely, inside of me, for always."
Gradually her words lost their meaning and became the primitive animal sounds of a woman worshipping before the phallic totem of her lover's manhood. A low crooning note sprang from deep within her throat and spilled around the mouth-filling dick that corked her mouth and obstructed her words. With eager concentration, she sucked the cock into hard, shuddering virility. Her saliva drooled and moistened the blunt, straining head that was soon to batter its way into her unused, virginal love pit.
Slowly, determinedly, she eased her head from off its throbbing intruder. The gigantic staff stood upright and ready, thrusting out from its hairy junction with his reclining body.
Her face was serious and composed as if she was aware that she was voluntarily sacrificing the purity of her girlhood.
Bracing herself, she knelt upright and straddled the recumbent man as he lay beneath her parted legs. Reaching under her with one hand, she grasped the instrument of her deflowering and lowered her tightly spread twat onto it. The saliva-moistened head buried itself eagerly in the juicy folds of her outer labia.
Tensing herself on her bent, trembling legs, she rubbed the hardness of the prick along the full length of her slit. The electrifying tool sent its message through her as it travelled along her sex groove. From the voluptuous crack of her rounded buttocks it poked its hard, urgent message as it passed. It lingered lovingly for a moment on the tight brown orifice of her red-brown anus, then slithered through the mucous-moistened delights of her twat until it reached the focal point of her quivering love button.
With a squeal of delight, Jodie felt the never-to-be-forgotten sensation of her first prick probing the intimacy of her juicy young cunt and nuzzling the swelling of her pulsating clitoris.
Blind to everything but the urgency of her desire, the girl held the stiff pecker in one plump hand and spread the lips of her vagina with the other. Blissfully, she rubbed the firm penis against the erotic centers of her blossoming womanhood.
She gritted her teeth as the stimulation roared through her, flooding her already-saturated pussy with a seemingly unending flow of pungent love juice which dripped steadily down Dick's iron-hard weapon and clung wetly to his pubic bush. The rhythmic strokes of the hand-held prick soon achieved their purpose and the frenzied girl became dissatisfied with the titillation of the outer erotic areas. She prepared herself for what she knew must soon follow.
Guiding the oozing head away from her clitoris, she placed it determinedly against the tight, juicy entrance of her muscled vagina. Slowly bending her legs, she forced her unused cunt down on the magic wand that would transform her from an unknowing girl into the fulfillment of womanhood.
The sticky twat juice mixed with the saliva to lubricate the intruding flesh, enabling it to slip easily into the first few inches of her vagina. The tight ring of her sphincter muscles gripped the penis head as firmly as her mouth had done a few moments before. A sensation of fullness shot through her as she realized that Dick's awe-inspiring dong was buried, head deep, in her pussy.
She leaned over his prostrate body, her conical young breasts brushing against him as she planted a wet, open-mouthed kiss against his lips. The altered position drove the steely weapon deeper into her eager tidbit. She could feel every hard distended ridge of his probe as it sank deeper and deeper into her.
A red flash of pain stabbed through the pleasure of the penetration as her once cherished maidenhead felt the push of its destroyer. There was a moment's unbearable, shuddering pain before the elasticity of the membrane gave way before the onslaught and the unstoppable prick continued its progress unchecked.
As the tender tightness of her unused cunt hole stretched to accommodate the dimensions of the pushing eight-inch prick, the sensation of pleasant acceptance was replaced by, one of excruciating agony. Bravely, Jodie stifled a cry and fought back her mounting panic. Her mind was starting to boggle at the impossibility of the task she had undertaken. Despite the warning that her mind flashed to her, she forced the shaft farther and farther into her pain-torn cunt. With a grunt of satisfaction, she felt the rod register with the protrusion of her cervix and the cheeks of her arse press against the heaving groin of her sweating uncle.
"Now..." she announced proudly, "Now you are in me all the way." The tears ran down her face-tears of mingled joy and achievement. "You can't get any farther Into me. We are merged. Together, man and woman. Oh, Dick, do you realize... I'm a woman now... and you made me."
Her mind raced feverishly for some words that would express the moment-some way to tell him how she felt. Dim memories of words she had heard the girls whisper at school rushed onto her tongue. "Fuck me, Dick. Fuck me. Drive your prick into me. Let me feel your balls slapping against my arse. Even if I cry out. Make me have it. Make me have it... please... ahhhhhhhhhhhhh..." A long drawn-out cry of disappointment escaped from her as she felt the iron-hard pecker being withdrawn from the yearning depths of her cunt. "Don't stop. Don't take it out... Give it to me all the way... More... more..."
Taking her at her word, Dick stopped his withdrawal and, reversing his direction, thrust his hips up to meet her on her downward push.
The solid flesh of his penis ripped once more into the elasticity of her stretching, pain-seared twat. "Ehhhhhh... ohhhhhhhh... it hurts... But it's a good hurt. I like it... more... more..."
Falling into a rhythm, the lovers thrust and counterthrust at each other in a duel of sexuality. The steady, almost hypnotic reciprocating pumping of the meaty piston began to lull Jodie into a state of blissful unconsciousness as the pain began to dull. Soon she was unable to feel pain or even discomfort, and Dick's tool was no longer a red-hot poker searing into her tender love pit. The passion and urgency of her need numbed all but the unspeakable delights of her first copulation.
Obeying some deep primitive instinct, Jodie ground herself down to meet each upthrust, allowing her dilated clitoris to grind against Dick's cunt-soaked pubic mound.
At the end of each nerve-shattering stroke, the coincidence of the hard prick nudging her cervix while her love bean received the attention of her uncle's rough, hairy mat sent the blood rushing through her veins like a fire at an oil refinery.
Faster and faster, she skewered herself on the impaling erection. Seizing her hips, Dick guided her into a rotating movement at the bottom of each thrust that sent her into a delirium of desire as the long hot rod revolved against the sensitive wall of her wet vagina.
Hour-long minutes lost themselves in the hot lust of their passion as the dam wall of restraint burst, engulfing the screwing couple in a raging flood of intense, uncaring, bed-pounding action.
Inarticulate grunts came from the man as he slammed away beneath her, grunts that merged and matched with her sobs of delighted anguish.
Steadily the tempo of their union increased until it was their whole world. Outside them roared the life of a huge, vibrant city, but they were deaf to its call-deaf to all but the pounding rush of their sex-crazed blood, drumming its demanding beat in their ears. The sun caressed the incredible beauty of the California landscape- the same sun that flooded through the open curtains and spilled its warmth onto their naked, straining bodies. Each one was blind to all but the sweating, tense face of the other as it grimaced its need.
Jodie closed her eyes, shutting out all other sensation and knowledge. She was alone, alone with her concentration fixed on now. Now, now, with the pounding jab of the fleshy monster that was pushing her, forcing her on. On past the threshold of pain, on to the Olympian heights of her first cock-induced climax.
With iron-willed determination, Dick fought back the clamor of his pent-up orgasm. Carefully he regulated the length of his stroke until the toe-curling, ball-tingling indication of his impending climax subsided and allowed him to resume the merciless impaling of his willing, cooperative partner.
At each prick-burying thrust the skewered body of his niece shuddered responsively and her pendant breasts shook and swayed in her body's endeavor to express its joy. Her hanging boobs brushed across Dick's heaving chest. Her long blonde hair trailed across his face, each soft sweep heightening the intensity of his lust for his eager captive.
Jodie's incredulous voice interrupted the animal grunts and panting noises that filled the room. The pungent smell of sex hung heavy on the still air. Her voice was like the air it vibrated through. Low, earthy, deep and passionate. "Oh my God... I think I'm going to cum again..." She screwed up her face, forcing the words out of her pursed mouth like shots from a gun. "I can't... stop... it coming... it's like an L.S.D. trip. Swirling, pouring, rushing through me. Lights. Stars. Fire burning. It's wonderrrrrrrrrful... Go faster... More..." She allowed herself to fall onto the penetrating prick until it was hilt-deep within her. Then, grinding her hips in the movement that Dick had taught her, she forced the rocklike column to rotate against the membraned lining of her cock-hungry cunt. At the same time, she pressed her twitching clit against the rasping hairs of her uncle's stomach.
As the half-screamed admission of her own flooding release burst from her, Dick heard and allowed his control to relax. His hips convulsed as he felt the intoxication of his own impending ejaculation. His deep bass grunt of satisfaction merged with the higher soprano of Jodie's cry as they reached their crashing climaxes together.
The pumping torrents of his seething sperm flooded into her, bathing the tender, tortured walls of her hot slit with creamy healing juices.
As the last ecstatic tingle ebbed from her, Jodie collapsed, utterly spent, across the sweating body of her first man. Slowly the once proud flesh of Dick's pecker began to deflate and slip wetly from the sweet cavern of her cunt. A thick trickle of frothy white sperm dripped from the lips of her virginal twat and ran warmly down her inner thigh. Red, sinuous ribbons of blood threaded their way through the creamy discharge. Red streaked with white like the lowered banners of her lost girlhood.
With a sob, she threw herself into Dick's arms, the sweat-soaked hairs on his chest pressed against her flattened boobs. Her voice was broken as she questioned him. "Do you still love me, Dick? Do you?" She looked up at him appealingly through her tears. "They say that a man loses respect for a girl after she lets him... you know... fuck her."
Dick's deep laugh was like balm to her doubting mind and bruised, aching body. "Love you?" he asked her. "Of course I love you. How could I possibly lose respect for you after what has just happened between us?" He held her closely in his arms. "We are one now, Jodie. United completely, as if someone had said the socially approved words of the wedding service over us. No matter what ever happens to either of us again. We have loved, and neither of us can ever be as we were before."
He held Jodie away from him and examined her closely. His scrutiny swept over her trembling body as she stood mute and passive in front of him. He looked at the thin trickle of intermixed sperm and blood that ran down the plump whiteness of her leg. He traced one wondering finger through the viscous discharge and held his blood-marked finger up before her eyes. His eyes twinkled as he spoke, trying to jolly her out of the mood that she was in. "Yes, neither of us will be the same again." The blood from her shattered maidenhead stood out, red and final as he waved his finger before her eyes. The chuckle came from deep in his throat. "And especially you... You are now what is called 'a fallen woman.' But don't feel too bad about it. It wasn't too hard, was it?"
Jodie reached out for his flaccid tool and shook it disgustedly. "It might have been too hard then." She squeezed his member tightly until it began to stiffen up responsively. "But it certainly isn't too hard now, is it?"
Dick struggled against the desire to pump his prick against the soft palm that encircled it. The conflict showed in his voice. "Quit it for a moment, will you? There's something I've just thought of." His face was shadowed with worry. "I did an unforgivably stupid thing. I was so goddamned fired up, I let everything go. I shot my load into you, Jodie." He ran his hand over his head. "Christ, there could be complications."
It was Jodie's turn to smile reassuringly at her uncle. Her face seemed mature and placid as she smiled a deep knowing woman's smile. "What kind of a child do you think I am? There was one thing that my dear mother did get around to between her bridge and luncheon dates. She did tell me about the wicked ways of men. And, acknowledging the weakness of women, had the doctor prescribe the pill for me since I was sixteen. I think that it cleared her conscience so that she could believe she had been a good mother to me." Jodie looked at her uncle and chuckled mischievously. "Bet she never thought I'd be getting laid by the renegade of the family, though."
The sound of their happy laughter echoed through the room. Metallic squeaks came from the mattress as they rolled, helpless with laughter, on the heaving bed.
Gradually their mirth subsided into gasps and they clutched each other tightly, content just to gaze and grin.
The bed creaked again as Jodie snuggled closer to the naked man beside her.
Contentedly she rested her head on her uncle's muscular stomach. Her hand slipped down and sought his limp dick as it lay couched on his drained and empty scrotum. Taking the deflated rod between her fingers, she slipped it into her mouth. Wet, accepting sounds dribbled from her lips as she sucked at the comforter drowsily for a few contented minutes before falling into a sleep of utter exhaustion.
CHAPTER THREE
A shaft of sunlight lanced across the room and played its golden glow on the two naked figures lying in a limb-locked embrace upon the tousled bed. Slowly, with almost imperceptible movement, "the stark, revealing patch of light crept along the sleeping form of the voluptuously molded Jodie. Her pale skin, lit by the intense sunlight, seemed almost transparent. The intensity of the lighting picked out and exaggerated the golden, silky bloom of the hair on her relaxed, parted legs.
Like some silent, secret intruder that had stolen into the room, the sunlight touched lightly on her skin, warming it with its caress. Emboldened by the regularity of her breathing, the sun's warm hand drifted unnoticed up her leg until it played among the golden blonde fuzz that fringed her cum-stained pussy. Lingering on the tasty morsel, it poured through the protective screen of soft, girlish cunt hair until it was hot upon the pink flesh of her exposed love lips.
The girl purred in her sleep as she felt the reassuring warmth seep into her, like the presence of a lover's comforting hand. Half an hour later, the searching shaft of sunlight had stolen over her in slow exploratory questing until it had known the firmness of her thrusting tits and the darker ring of the areolas around the appetizing nipples.
Tiring of her tits, the sun's rays reached out to touch the serenity of her sleeping face. Doll-like in fresh-skinned youthfulness, she presented an incongruous picture as she lay with Dick's hairy dong planted firmly in her red-lipped mouth. A thin trickle of saliva ran from the corner of her lips and glistened in the sunlight bathing her cheeks.
The sun soaked through her closed eyelids, sending bright reds and yellows to disperse the gray mists of sleep. Messages flashed through her brain, demanding her awareness. She jerked into consciousness and a startled realization of where she was.
Easing the intruding penis out of her mouth, she sat up abruptly in the disordered bed.
Dick lay beside her, sleeping serenely. His relaxed breathing came in soporific snorts through his open mouth.
Jodie looked at him lovingly, then, bending over, kissed him lightly on his forehead. This was the first day of her newly acquired maturity and this sleeping man was the person responsible for the butterfly's emergence from the chrysalis of childhood.
Last night, Dick had told her of the completeness of their union. That they were truly merged. And they were, with the unbreakable bond of her first love joining her to him. She felt the bond as surely as if it were a physical thing-a strong steel chain that bound her close to the man that she loved so intensely. Her every feminine fiber felt the links, the ties of invisible responsibility that she had toward this wonderful, beloved, sleeping man.
She would show him that he had made no mistake choosing her or in his waiting until she could mate with him in the mature response of her awakened sexuality. But there was more to her, and their union, than screwing, wonderful as she admitted it was. She'd cook him a breakfast like he'd never had before.
Jodie padded across the room, the plump lines of her girlish figure jiggling in time to the tread of her feet across the worn, threadbare carpet. Going behind the broken-springed, book-strewn davenport, she reached up to grasp the half-drawn serapes that served as drapes. Her firm, uptilted tits brushed against the rough, hand-woven material as she yanked the drapes apart and let the. warm California sun flood into the room.
She gazed unbelievingly at the disorder that was revealed by the stark glare of the sunlight. She shook her head, half amused by it all. That this was the room that she had been reborn in. The room that she had ridden a stiff prick along the hard road to womanhood in.
She let her glance travel across the littered, chaotic mess until it rested on the tumbled bed.
Dick lay, still and unmoving in a heavy sleep of complete sexual fulfillment.
Let him sleep on for a little while longer, she told herself. He would need all the rest that he could get to recharge his failing batteries for his next encounter with her newly proved pussy.
Silently, so as not to disturb him, she drifted about the room, searching for something she could use as a dressing gown. Something to slip over her naked body before venturing into the communal kitchen to rustle up some food. She knew that it would be senseless to look in her hastily packed overnight case. The last thing she had thought of last night was packing a frilly, glamorous peignoir.
Opening the closet door, she rummaged through its contents quickly. There was an open-weave Mexican poncho thing that looked inviting. She ran her hand over the fabric and thought that the coarse texture of the loosely knitted wool would contrast nicely with the softness of her white skin in an interesting, provocative manner.
Pulling the triangular shape of the garment over her head, she pirouetted in front of the stained glass of the full-length mirror.
Just right, she told herself happily. The density of the weave was too close to reveal more than a faint suggestion of her naked body underneath it. She ran her hands down her sides. It was a little chilly around her bottom where the garment flared out loosely, barely covering the rounded cheeks of her arse. Reluctantly, she went over to the heap of clothes beside the bed and pulled on the lacy, semi-transparent panties that she had worn the night before. Now she would be quite adequately covered in the unlikely event that she met somebody while searching for the kitchen. She looked around the room for a clock. What the hell time was it? By the sun, she judged that it was neither very late, nor very early. Probably that in-between time when everybody who was working would have already left the house, but those people who managed to live without punching a time-clock would still be dreaming of where the money for the next joint was coming from.
Opening the door, she stuck her head out and peered along the corridor. Not a soul in sight. All the other doors were closed, blind and indifferent to her presence.
Silently she made her way toward the end of the passage where she judged the kitchen to be. Her bare feet were noiseless and the only thing to indicate her passing was the faint, lingering trace of her perfume as she moved-a slight, almost indiscernible suggestion of the flower-scented deodorant that she had sprayed herself with so many fateful hours ago before setting out on her disastrous date with Tony for the high school dance. But now the artificial scent of the synthetic flowers was being replaced by the pungent, spicy odor of a woman who had been laid and laid again until the pouring sweat of her flushed flesh had merged with the sweet tang of her overworked, juicy twat. Over all, the faint musky smell of stale sperm mingled in an unmistakable, telltale mixture for the knowledgeable to recognize.
Jodie reached the end of the passageway and a half-opened door. Gingerly, she pushed it open, prepared to find a naked couple balling away, oblivious to her intrusion.
The reality was something of a letdown. A commonplace and rather dirty kitchen stared back at her. The smell of stale grease and fried, quick meals assailed her nostrils. Sniffing delicately, she pulled the serape around her and walked forward, determined that no obstacles would come between her and the breakfast that she had secretly promised the man she had left sleeping in the room along the corridor.
Selecting a pan from three chipped enamel ones hanging on nails behind the ancient gas cooker, she washed it carefully under the discolored brass faucet. Leaving it upside down to drain rather than use the dirty dish towel, she opened the chipped, rust-spotted door of the refrigerator.
Surprisingly, there was food stacked haphazardly on its shelves. Grabbing a handful of eggs, she placed them in a bowl on the table.
She pushed the hair away from her face with the back of her hand as she decided what she was going to do with them. An omelette sounded like a good idea. She went back to the fridge for some mushrooms and bacon that she had spotted lurking behind some doubtful cans of opened vegetables. She lifted the food to her nose and sniffed before she decided that it was fresh and fit to make a meal from.
She smiled ruefully to herself. She was going to make some changes around here if Dick expected her to set up house in this dump.
Her mind made up, she went about her work quickly and efficiently. The shells crunched as she broke the eggs and started to make a batter for the omelette. Not bothering to search for a whisk, she beat at the mixture vigorously with a fork. The motion made her conscious of her boobs, which were bouncing about like a topless dancer's.
Laughing amusedly to herself, she put the bowl down and lifted the serape up to her shoulders. Peering down over the fold of material, she experimented with her bouncing knockers. Bobbing her head and shoulders, she contented herself with sending her breasts jumping in an up and down motion. Tiring of the sameness, she began to improvise a little. With a sideward movement of her shoulders, she soon had her boobs swaying excitingly across her chest. Her hands were held high above her head like a Spanish dancer's as she tucked the serape tight with her elbows.
Engrossed as she was in her performance, the first intimation she had of an audience was a man's voice from the open doorway.
"Fascinating... I always did say that a floor show would liven up breakfast in this joint. Incidentally, what do you do for an encore?"
Confusedly, Jodie let the serape fall over her still bouncing knockers and turned her startled, blushing face toward the intruder.
"What the hell are you doing here?" she demanded.
The man's eyes travelled insolently up her body until they met her gaze squarely. "That's soon answered," he replied evenly. "I happen to live here. But may I ask you? What's a girl like you doing in a nice place like this?"
Jodie chose to ignore the banter in his tone and tried to force her trembling voice into some semblance of dignity.
"Actually, I'm visiting my... er... uncle. Mr. Richard Hamilton. He lives along the hall, you know."
The man's eyes had reverted back to studying Jodie's barely concealed knockers. He answered without altering his study. "Yes... I do know. So Dick's got a... er... niece, eh? I hope that you are not wasted on him. My pad's close by if ever you get lonely or frustrated."
His eyes travelled up to Jodie's face and narrowed speculatively. There was a few moments' silence during which the man seemed to evaluate Jodie. There was a different, more accepting tone to his as he spoke again. "Why don't you drop by and meet my 'old lady?' I think that you and she might hit it off. You're so totally different that you'd be good for each other." He reverted back to his former bantering tone, as if embarrassed by the opening that he had created-as if reaching out from behind his defensive banter was a gesture to be ashamed of.
There was a slight gibe of sarcasm behind his words. "You'll notice that I don't call the chick that I'm shacking up with my niece? It's a little too bourgeois for the now generation. Whatever is, is, and as we don't kid anybody, admit that it is. Right?"
His frankness was totally outside Jodie's experience. Picking up the batter bowl, she decided to try and match it, to just accept him and carry on as if he and his talk were an everyday occurrence in her life.
The young man was staring into space at a point somewhere over her shoulder. Jodie took the opportunity to examine him in turn.
He looked quite a nice guy, really. A pair of frank, penetrating blue eyes challenged the world from behind a thick, untrimmed beard. His slim, erect figure, coupled with his beard and attitudes, made Jodie think of pictures she had seen of Jesus Christ. He had an air of unhappy knowledge of human frailty, coupled with a crucified look of "Forgive them, for they know not what they do."
But for all his great differences from anybody she had ever come into contact with, Jodie felt instinctively drawn toward him.
If Dick and she were going to be together, she would have to learn to relate with the people that he knew. The realization that this encounter that had thrown her so much was probably the accepted normal behavior for Dick's circle of friends made her feel very provincial and gawky. She was going to have to mature, and fast, if she was to keep pace with her new life. There was more to being an adult woman than just getting laid.
With exaggerated unconcern, Jodie moved over to the window to examine the mixture in the batter bowl.
The man's voice followed her across the room. "Mind if I come in and watch you?"
Without waiting for her reply, he walked across to the kitchen table and sat down heavily on one of the unmatched rickety chairs.
The man adjusted the position of his chair until he had Jodie's trim figure silhouetted against the brilliant back lighting of the window. The sunlight cut through her flimsy garments, like a hot knife through butter, leaving her ripe figure revealed in all its plump glory.
Unaware of the man's scrutiny, Jodie spoke to him over her shoulder.
"Want me to make enough for three?" She indicated the food with a nod of her head.
The guy surveyed the slices of bacon. A look of revulsion sprang to his face. "Thanks, but no thanks."
He looked hungrily at the bacon for a moment or so before continuing. "We're vegetarians," he explained. "Whenever we can afford to eat, that is. Cynthia, that's my chick. I call her Cyn for short. She'll be getting up to fix us something shortly. I left her in bed smoking. Usually, I leave her in bed steaming. Today she's smoking. Had a hell of a night. We're working our way through the Kama Sutra. I should live that long."
His eyes clouded over reflectively as he added. "But Christ. What a way to go..."
Jodie thought it was about time to bring the conversation around to a less hazardous subject.
"Do you know where the knives are kept? I want to peel the mushrooms for the omelette."
"Try in the knife drawer. You might be lucky. The flour is in a tin marked sugar. The tea's in a Maxwell House jar. Want I should give you a tour of the premises ending up in bed?" he asked hopefully.
Jodie again tried to control the situation and carry on what she judged was a reasonable conversation between two strangers.
"Not just now, thanks. I'm busy. By the way, my name's Jodie. Jodie Hamilton. Dick really is my uncle, you know. Didn't he ever tell you about me?"
"Hell no," was the reply. "He never talks about anything but poetry and baroque music. I've known him since we were at San Francisco together. We both split the scene after the pigs took over the campus at Berkeley. We're pacifists at heart. I don't mind carrying banners and shouting 'pig' from the sidelines, but when the bastards start coming after you with clubs, it's time to leave the halls of higher learning. Welcome to our new ivory tower."
He stopped for breath, giving Jodie a chance to ask again.
"Now I've got your history, why not tell me your name?"
"Name... name. What the hell do people want names for? It's what you really are that counts. My I.D. says Jerry Mander if it's important to you. Handy for snap decisions and value judgments, I suppose."
Jodie smiled at him warmly. He was definitely a nut. But rather a likeable, refreshing one at times.
"Are you and my uncle friends?" she asked.
"Sure we are. Have to be. Nobody else would put up with us. Live and let live. He applauds my mistakes. I encourage his postures. It's worked out fine for four years now."
He cast his eyes approvingly over her revealing costume.
"Glad you came on the scene. I was beginning to get worried about Dick. Not living up to his name at all. Too much celibacy is bad karma." Jerry sniffed the air knowingly. "Guess you've helped him break his vows. Did he give you a good tumble?"
It was impossible to be annoyed at his directness, and Jodie decided that she'd play him at his own game.
"Best I've ever had," she told him frankly. "I've never known anything like it before. Groovy."
Jerry looked at her with astonishment. "Really. You telling the truth? So Dick is a dirty old man, after all. There's hope for the bastard yet."
He sat reflectively running his fingers through his beard while gazing abstractly at Jodie. Though his thoughts seemed far away, his mind was very much in the present. His eyes appraised Jodie's outlined figure appreciatively.
She had taken advantage of the lull in the conversation to return to preparing the neglected breakfast. The brilliant light from the window, unknown to her, poured through the open weave of her covering serape like water through a sieve. Like water, it played around the contours of her body, leaving little eddies of light and shade which showed the full ripeness of her young body in all its beauty. The scanty, transparent lace of her panties did nothing to conceal the promise of her rounded ass and belly.
Jodie turned away and walked over to the sink to rinse the peeled mushrooms. Jerry watched the cheeks of her ass, tantalizingly delineated by the flesh-marking elastic of the bikini briefs she was wearing. The alternating undulations of the melon-sized cheeks rippled down her soft thighs as they moved.
Finishing her task, the girl crossed over to the antiquated gas cooker, affording the watching Jerry a revealing profile of her jutting breasts. The delicately hued nipples had firmed into small inquisitive points that pushed through the woolen strands like ripe grapes seeking the sun behind obstructing vine leaves. Instinctively, the watching man licked his lips, imagining the taste of such acceptable morsels as they rested against his pointed tongue.
Reaching out, Jodie raised her arms and fiddled with the pan on the top of the cooker. Quietly Jerry changed his position so as not to waste a moment of the glamorous exhibition.
The rewarding sight was well worth the effort. The girl's arms swept in a delicate flowing movement until they fell into the sparsely haired hollows of her armpits. Her high, tip-tilted breasts reached out abruptly in breathtaking sharpness. The tiny pink cherries of the nipples balanced on the points of the white swell of her tits like trembling dewdrops on spear-pointed leaves.
The serape fell away from her ass as she leaned forward for a moment, allowing the inviting rise and fall of her stomach to intrigue the lusting watcher. The convexity converged into her thighs, leaving a prick-teasing bulge around her mound of Venus.
The blonde, faint fuzz of pubic hair was compressed by the skin-tight panties, like a protective veil over the delicate meat of her cunt. A few golden hairs curled under the restriction of the pantie fabric between her legs.
Tearing his feasting eyes away from her enticing crotch, Jerry let his gaze wander down her equally alluring legs. There were two dimples in the soft flesh just above her well-shaped knees.
Jerry moistened his parched, dry lips.
"You know, kid, you're all right. I'd like to see a lot more of you."
His flickering eyes took quick inventory of her wares.
"Yes, you're the kind of chick that I like to have around. There's a depth you have that's fascinating."
His eyes were back to her crotch again. "Sort of half-veiled mystery that challenges me. It shows without you being aware of it. Why don't you and 'Uncle' drop by and see us real soon?"
Jodie nodded absently, her mind more on the browning omelette she was watching.
"Sure will. If Dick's a friend of yours, I'm certain he'll say yes."
She selected a couple of plates and rinsed them under the tap.
"What do you and your wi... I mean Cyndy, do most of the time?" she asked out of curiosity.
Jerry uncrossed his legs before answering. The bulging erection was causing him some discomfort.
"Well, much of the time is taken up with an unending quest for 'bread.' When we have managed to quiet the hunger pangs, we go in for all sorts of mind-bending kicks. We're on a sexual expression thing right now. Screwing our way through the Oriental philosophers. It's wild. We must enlighten you some time. Then there is auto-suggestion to heighten the spiritual awareness. Group hypnotism. We've managed to regress Jo Ann back to her seven-year-old self. Did you ever read about Bridie Murphy?" He looked at Jodie questioningly.
"No? It's 'way out. Our group is a little more hip to the times, though. She blew me the other night while talking with a lisp. Brought all my wickedness out into the open. I felt like a child molester. The group said it was a good experience. Revealed my psyche and let me know what kind of a depraved bastard I was so I could guard against going into parks and hanging around school playgrounds. Probably saved some little girl from a traumatic experience."
Jodie shuddered. The import of what he was saying shocked her.
"Do you really think that acting like that is healthy?" she asked point-blank.
Her strange companion shrugged away her disapproval. "Healthy? Of course it's goddamned healthy. We are what we are. The sum total of all our parts. If one of my bags is leching after little girls, much better I know about it and face it and control it. That way nobody gets hurt. Least of all, some poor frightened little girl."
As Jerry finished the sentence, there was an unexpected softness and concern in his voice that made Jodie realize that there was a human being of real value lurking behind the mask of cynicism that he usually wore.
She smiled at him, the first genuine recognition she had allowed since he had first burst into her young, sheltered life. She made a deprecating gesture toward the food that was waiting on the table in front of her.
"Sorry you have to bring such a mundane subject up, but I'm hungry. I'm going to feed my man now. See you later, huh?"
Jerry's voice seemed to penetrate the scant protection of her clothes as it followed her out of the room.
"Sure thing, Jodie. I think I'm going to see a lot of you. Later. 'Bye now. Swallow it all down, it's healthy."
Confused as to whether he was referring to the breakfast she was carrying, or what she had been doing with her uncle's seething sperm, Jodie decided not to answer his parting shot and made her way to the door of her refuge in silence.
CHAPTER FOUR
Dick was still sleeping as she entered the room. The muscular nudity of his sprawled form sent a tingle of want coursing through the pit of her stomach. Reluctantly, she admitted to herself that the conversation with that way-out fellow resident had made her juices flow. Her pussy, though still sore after the shock of its treatment of the night before, was sending insistent messages of moist readiness up to her aroused mind. Her hands trembled as she put the tin tray down on the chair beside the bed.
Ruefully she looked at the mess around her. The immediate area beside the bed was strewn with their hurriedly discarded clothing of the night before.
To hell with it, she thought. I'll tidy up a bit after we have eaten.
There was more to being a woman than picking up clothes and cooking. Right now she wanted the reward of seeing Dick's surprise when he discovered the breakfast she had conjured up for him. Perhaps she could manage to convince him that another kind of reward would be acceptable also. But that would come like she hoped he would... after he had eaten breakfast.
She knelt down on the floor beside the bed. Dick's body lay in the relaxed surrender of sleep, inches away from her face. Moving closer, she examined the fleshy probe that had done such fantastic things to her last night.
It was hard to believe that such an innocent-looking object, reposing peacefully on its wrinkled couch of plumlike testicles, could transform itself into the battering ram that beat so fiercely at the locked door of her girlhood.
Reaching out her hand, she gently touched the fascinating new toy. Darting her gaze up to Dick's face, she took courage at his peaceful, seraphic smile. Gingerly she peeled the covering of the foreskin back to expose the raw redness of the blunt penis head. Dick slept on with the same satiated smile on his face.
Wetting her finger, she traced the course of his vinegar string as it ran from the furrowed underside of his glans to disappear into the fold of flesh that marked the beginning of the mighty staff.
The soft dong responded to her finger with an ominous twitch. As the fascinated girl watched, the limp flesh began to harden before her eyes like some primitive monster out of a horror film. Gently, so as not to awaken her sleeping victim, she gave the hardening tool a couple of experimental jerks. The results were gratifying.
Soundlessly, without any seeming control on the part of her unconscious uncle, the crimped folds of loose skin began to fill out as the blood rushed to fill the never-sleeping muscles of the ever-ready weapon that she had drawn from its foreskin sheath.
"Boy, oh boy," Jodie whispered exultantly to herself. "This is 'way out. The damned thing can scent a woman's presence, even if its keeper's eyes are shut. Just like a bloodhound."
A thought came into her head, something that she was going to learn fully before she was much older. The uncle that she had known for all of her life was a dreamer of dreams-a poet who searched for the ethereal values. Even his friend, Jerry, had remarked on his lack of interest in the physical. Yet this romantic reciter of sixteenth century love poetry and biblical prose was in effect two men.
One of them, the unconscious, uncontrolled one and presumably the real motivating force behind his character, could get a hard-on even in his sleep. There was more of the animal in man than Jodie had imagined when she used to lie awake nights and dream of a man's embrace, beside a moonlit lake.
Her hands had not been idle during her thoughts. In-response to the steady jerking of her uncle's meat, the once dormant flesh had hardened into a provocative eight inches of iron-hard rod.
Jodie gazed at it, impressed by what she had achieved. Tentatively she flexed it to one side and chuckled as it sprang back, rubberlike, to its former position. She rewarded its prowess with a few more strokes along its velvet-skinned length.
Looking closer, she tried to enlarge the small opening of the urethra and peer down it to see where the mighty gush of semen came from last night. As she watched, a small glistening bead of lubricating juice came to the head of the tube and hung like a pearl on his bulbous glans.
"I wonder if it tastes the same as it did last night?" Jodie asked herself as she bent over the sleeping man.
Her tongue shot out like a hummingbird's tongue after nectar. The sharp pink point dipped into the piquant secretion and withdrew again into her mouth.
"Mmmmmmmm. Tastes sort of... different," she told herself.
Maybe it was her imagination, but last night there had been a faint sort of oceanic, fishy taste. This morning it was vaguely earthy and musky somehow.
She dipped her finger into the now replenished collection of secretion flowing out of Dick's peter and raised it to her mouth. Closing her eyes, she sucked the sticky substance like a connoisseur with a rare vintage wine. She shook her head undecidedly. It was hard to tell. Perhaps the white, frothy stuff, the sperm, tasted different from this clear stuff that seemed to ooze from some unending supply whenever she was around.
Unable to give a considered opinion based on the meager amount she could collect on her fingertip, she placed both hands on the bed beside the still-sleeping man and lowered her mouth toward the mesmerizing snake that reared up from his hairy stomach.
Straining her eyes upward so that she could see his face, she let her warm breath play over the sensitive twitching penis. There wasn't even a flutter of his eyelids to indicate a knowledge of her daring. Opening her mouth to its fullest extent, she slipped her head over the stiff prick, trying not to let the flesh of his rod touch the sides of her mouth. When her lips were below the level of the foreskin ring, she closed them firmly and pulled at the muscular mouthful with a sliding, milking movement. A satisfying draught of fluid came into her mouth at the same time as Dick uttered a low moan and opened his eyes.
"Hell... what did you wake me up for? I was having a marvelous dream. This broad was sucking my cock and I was just going to..." His voice trailed away in astonishment.
"Christ, this is no dream. Jodie, you living doll. It's you and you were."
Jodie reluctantly relinquished her mouthful before she answered him. The taste of his emission was thick on her tongue as she spoke.
"Well, what do you want me to do? Lick this, or chew that?" She gestured first to the wet cock she had been sucking, then toward the waiting breakfast perched on the chair beside the bed.
Dick grinned expectantly. "Couldn't you manage a bit of both?" he asked hopefully.
"There might be a painful accident if I do," his niece replied. "I might get mixed up and bite when I should suck."
Dick nodded sadly. "Alright, you've convinced me. One at a time and first things first. Problem is, which comes first?"
Jodie looked at the choices in turn. "I never was any good at these chicken-and-egg riddles. But the breakfast will get cold, whereas that thing seems to be like some sort of geyser that gushes and spouts on demand. Old Faithful, erupting dutifully every five minutes to the admiration of the watching throng."
She bent over again and kissed his dong on its sticky end. "Bye-bye, pet, you can rest up for a little while. Mama won't need you for a few minutes."
She sat on the edge of the bed and handed him a cup of coffee. "You know," she continued naively. "I could play with that thing for hours and never cease to wonder at it. It's marvelous, every young couple should have one. Does everyone, I mean all the ordinary women you see in the supermarkets, suck their husbands' pricks?"
Dick choked on a mouthful of coffee before answering. "I dunno, honey. I suppose so."
Jodie's answer came quickly. "Well, they shouldn't. It's too good for them. I mean..."
She hesitated for a moment. "Like there should be some sort of spiritual awareness of what it all means as they swallow it."
Dick looked at her in amazement. "Something tells me that you've changed from the frightened kid that came in here last night."
A look of doubt clouded his face. "Say, have you been talking to that nut, Jerry? It's like the kind of stuff he sounds off with."
Jodie sliced the omelette up as she answered. "Matter of fact, I did see him in the kitchen for a little while. He's cute, isn't he?"
Dick shook his head in disbelief. "Cute? I've heard him called most things in the years I've known him. But cute, never."
"Don't you like him, then?" Jodie asked. "I thought that he was your friend?"
Jerry's voice was patient as he tried to explain.
"Of course I like him. I wouldn't have stuck with him if I didn't. It's just that he's... well... different."
He looked at Jodie protectively as he continued. "He's not like anybody you have met up to now. He's way out of your class. Some of his ideas and attitudes are startling until you get to know him. Then perhaps you can understand that beneath all his talk, he has integrity and honesty, it's just that honesty can be rather unpleasant at times. Hurts people. Until you are prepared to see yourself as others see you, Jerry sends out a lot of unpleasant vibes."
Jodie smiled. "I think I know what you mean. I thought he was horrible, until he said something just before I left. Kind of let the mask down for a minute and let you see what he was like underneath."
"You're fairly sharp for a kid," her uncle said approvingly. "I'm glad you like him. He is about the only guy that I have any faith in and we'll probably see quite a lot of him."
Jodie looked relieved. "That's all right, then. He wants us to drop by and visit with him and some girl. I think her name is Cynthia."
Her uncle's eyes twinkled. "Her name is Sin. Which is rather apt. Wait until you meet her. You won't dismiss her so casually."
There was an expectant look on Jodie's face as she straightened her shoulders.
"We'll just have to wait and see, won't we?" she answered defiantly. This was going to be her first meeting with one of her own sex since she had become a woman and she wasn't about to be upstaged by some chick named Sin.
The air was strained between the two of them as they sat and concentrated on the food. Dick knew what had caused the outburst in his young niece and blamed himself for not controlling the situation. Casting around, he tried to change the subject.
"I see you were rummaging around while I was asleep." He nodded towards the serape she was wearing.
"It looks better on you than it does on me. I picked it up in Mexicali one weekend." He looked at her closely. "Say, do you know I can see your tits through that thing?"
Jodie looked down, startled. Sure enough, the delicate pink buds of her nipples stuck straight through the loose material as if trying to escape from the tips of her pert breasts.
"Oh, Dick," she wailed embarrassedly. "Do you think that Jerry...?"
Dick laughed at her concern. "Nothing surer, Jodie," he told her. "If there's any flesh about, Jerry will spot it."
He ran his eye over her trim figure, partially revealed by the inappropriate clothes she was wearing.
"Rest assured that there isn't much about you that Jerry doesn't know by now. From the working of our mind down to the fascinating curve of your bottom."
For the second time since she had got up, Jodie decided to make the best of a situation.
"Well, I don't suppose it's the first time he's seen a pair of knockers. And I'll bet it won't be the last."
She pushed her thirty-six-inch bust out to its fullest extent. "Anyway, they are nothing to be ashamed of. I'll bet that the chick he's keeping hasn't got a better pair."
"That's the stuff, Jodie," Dick answered approvingly. "Snatch victory out of defeat, aggression is always the best policy. You are going to turn out a very interesting young woman before you get much older."
The girl inclined her head and then looked ruefully at the remains of the breakfast. Somehow, the meal hadn't gone quite as she planned it.
The original idea had been somewhat along the lines of a sumptuous meal at Tiffany's. Their very first morning together should have been a romantic one with Dick fussing over her and praising her cooking. Already this damned fellow Jerry was butting into their lives in a disturbing manner.
"How did you like the omelette I made?" she inquired touchily.
Dick patted her leg. "Jodie dear, you can cook as well as you can make love. With an enthusiasm that a few weeks of practice will develop into a fine art. I think you're a marvel."
Reaching out, he pulled her squealing onto the bed. She fell, a bundle of thrashing limbs, on top of him, her pliant body merged with the hard solid frame of her uncle in a riot of tickling fingers. Gasping for breath, they searched for each other's funny spots as they had years ago when Jodie was little. This time there was a marked urgency and difference in their play. Where before the armpits and chest were the prime targets, now the ferreting hands searched out the more intimate and erotic places.
Attempting to hold the wildly thrashing girl, Dick pulled the serape over her head and imprisoned her jerking arms. As he held her, Jodie's soft young tits bounced and quivered like jelly in her struggles to free herself. In their newfound intimacy, Jodie was indifferent to the fact that she was naked from the waist up and laughingly continued the mock battle with her aroused uncle. With a final twist, she managed to slip her arms free from the restraining cloth, leaving it crumpled and discarded on the bed beside her.
Dick's voice was enthusiastic as he gasped, "So you want to play rough, eh... no holds barred. Okay, you asked for it."
Trapping her arms with his knees, he bent over her and trailed his tongue across her swaying knockers. His mouth opened over the conical points.
"You want that I should have these for dessert?" he asked threateningly.
"You wouldn't dare," Jodie shrieked back.
Dick did not waste words in answering, but clamped his teeth over the succulent morsels of her jujubes. The firm pink protuberances hardened under his tongue. Opening his mouth wider, he sucked on her titties until they were fully drawn into his mouth. The rubbery tissue was elusive, altering and flattening, as he worked his jaws around it.
"Stop it, Dick. Stop it. That's not fair."
Her hips arched off the bed in her excitement until she was supported by her feet and shoulders.
Quick to spot the opportunity, Dick ran his hands down her body until his thumbs were hooked in the elastic waist of her panties. Oblivious to the danger, the girl still attempted to throw him off her by jerking her body upward.
Dick's hands continued their downward travel, past her hips, along her thighs and down to her ankles. The panties came away easily in his clutching hands. Before she knew what was happening, Jodie felt the warm California air playing about her completely naked body.
Pinning her down, Dick fought his way between her wildly beating legs until he reached the wet smoothness of her pussy. Opening her mouth to scream, Jodie found her uncle's bouncing testicles inches away from her mouth. Raising her head, she sucked them into her warm mouth and rolled them around her tongue.
"Eeeeeeeeeeek... leggo... you'll ruin me."
"You already ruined me. Now it's your turn."
"Alright, you asked for it. No holds barred."
As he spoke, Dick seized his struggling niece's ankles in a firm grip. Slowly her lashing feet were forced higher and higher until he had them under his arms and the girl resembled an open hairpin with her legs spread wide on either side of her chest. The man's eyes were riveted on the succulent sight at the apex of her captive legs. Her tight little twat was forced open by the position she was in, leaving nothing to the imagination. The cunt lips, which normally folded over the vagina like the petals of a shy flower, were wide open. The delicate variation of coloring merged like the subtle hues on an artist's palette. The pink underside of the larger lips merged tantalizingly with the deeper red of the smaller vaginal lips. These, in turn, erupted in crimson glory with the open entrance to her moist love pit, which glistened invitingly with its savory, spicy secretion.
The juice ran like a clear, unpolluted rivulet down the confining slit until it overflowed the confines of the pouting cunt and nestled in the puckering brownness of her hairless asshole. It was as if some powerful pump hidden within her was throbbing passionately, sending the gushing secretion spouting hotly from the warm depths of her love well.
To Dick's fevered imagination, the corn-colored fringe of adolescent pubic hair was the luxuriant verdure beside some sexual oasis in the wilderness of his want.
Nestled within the glistening convolutions of her open crack, the bloodied bean of her clitoris pushed its pulsing prominence forward as if begging for the attention of his eager tongue.
His dong shuddered into hardness above his mouth-held balls. A gem of lubricating emission formed on the bulbous head and smeared itself across the chin of the helpless girl.
Gradually her struggles died away as they both realized that this was no childish game played between teasing niece and indulgent uncle. That this was the culmination of the years of secret desire that had burst forth like a searing flame, engulfing both of them in an inescapable passion.
Jodie's childlike laughter was strangled by the intensity of her sexual urge, slowly being replaced by the low crooning sound of a woman whose every sense aches for the plunging satisfaction of her lover's prick.
Dick's balls slipped from her open, moaning mouth. Shifting her position slightly, she nuzzled the dripping dong like an eager puppy. The massive member lay across her face, nestling against the soft contours of her cheeks, rubbing itself into the hollows of her eyes until the curling lashes were sticky with his secretions. Broken, half-distinguishable words of love buried themselves in the smothering enormity of his prick. As if drawn by a magnet, the blood-gorged prick inched its way across the smoothness of her face until it rested on the fleshy curl of her red lips.
Jodie's lips parted involuntarily, exposing the soft enticement of her pink underlips. Remorselessly, the thrusting peter slipped between them until it felt the white barrier of her even teeth.
With agonizing slowness, the mouth parted, allowing the eager tongue to reach out and touch the intruder. Jodie licked along the length of it her tongue rasping the sensitive surfaces into twitching eagerness.
The streaks of saliva cooled as they left the warmth of her tongue, chilling the tool until it clamored for admission into the comforting warmth of her hot mouth.
As Jodie's tongue withdrew for more moisture, the searching swollen chopper thrust its blunt head between her sharp young teeth. Blind to any discomfort, it grated against them until the first few inches were hanging over the ivory threshold and oozing secretion into the submissive cavern of her mouth.
Quickly the fugitive tongue responded to the challenge and curled itself around the invader. The flexible rod accepted the homage and inched its iron way past the weakening defenses.
Her mouth tightly corked and incapable of further resistance, Jodie again applied the lesson that she had learned earlier. It was no use fighting the inevitability of the situation. She opened her jaws wide and drew the satisfying firmness of Dick's manhood into her absorbing mouth.
With a grunt of victory, the panting man above her leaned forward and rammed the length of his hard cock into her yielding mouth. His breath was labored as he ran his tongue along the slit of her quivering quim. The sparkling juices tasted like the heady wine the Grecian women offered their men before battle. The bouquet was exquisite.
Plunging his face into the recessed cup of her upturned twat, Dick lapped at the crystal-clear potion. The pungent aroma of her savory receptacle sent him into a frenzy of eagerness. Again and again he sucked up the flowing juice, and yet the well never ran dry.
Allowing his tongue to wander freely, he ranged from the pulsing pod of her clitoris down to the tight ring of her sweet little asshole. Shuddering, Jodie concentrated on the undertip of his helmeted penis.
Soft sucking sounds came from her working mouth as her frenzy mounted and she tried to swallow more and more of his flesh.
Dick flickered his tongue to investigate the firmly muscled entrance of her twat and pushed its foraging way into the vaginal opening.
Working upside-down in the sixty-nine position, he discovered that he could run the base of his tongue over the swollen clitoris before sliding it into the yielding opening of the vaginal canal. The effect was as if he had turned the convulsing Jodie inside out and was playing upon the exposed strings of her nervous system like a harpist.
Greedily his fellow performer improvised her obligato on his skin flute until both were in a concerted crescendo of thrashing ecstasy. Steadily the intensity of the tongued stimulation increased until their heaving bodies could take no more of the sensual abuse. Goaded by Jodie's revolving tongue, Dick's one thought was to sink his swollen staff into the comforting depths of Jodie's responsive love pit.
Sensing his impatience, the girl relaxed vacuum of her sucking mouth and allowed the blue-veined prick to emerge from its tender trap. Still keeping her legs forced against her chest, Dick swung his body around and positioned himself above the submissive girl. Her uplifted legs had forced her ass high above the rumpled bedsheet, leaving her twat perfectly poised for the insertion of his virile member. With maddening slowness, he let his erection draw near its target until it was nosing among the red farrows as he knelt in front of her.
Loosening his hold on one of her legs, he grasped his bulging staff and rubbed it along her wet slit. She thrust herself forward and upward in-mute surrender to the threatened invasion.
Dick played with her provocatively, allowing his meat to slither among the moist folds of her yearning tidbit. Looking down from her flushed face, he watched the head of his prick as it sneaked along her secret passage. The wide-open cunt lips offered no resistance, but seemed to try to engulf the massive penis head like the fleshy petal of some exotic jungle plant devouring an intruder. With a slow pressure of his hips, he forced himself into the clammy confines until the bulging extremity had sunk from sight.
A low moan came from the submissive girl. Easing himself out a little, he guided his dong upward until it registered squarely against the button of her clit. Her voice rose exultantly as she experienced the bitter-sweet agony of his stimulation.
"Screw me, screw me," Jodie screamed deliriously.
Dick's words were hoarse with power as he croaked an answer. "Tell me you want it, Jodie. Beg me to give it to you."
Her answer came in a plaintive, submissive whine. "Yes, yes. Give it to me. Slide the whole long, glorious length of it into me."
In her mind she could see the massive cock that she had fondled earlier, poised like a conqueror at the gate of her girlhood. She gritted her teeth as she thought of the eight inches of blue-veined muscle that was going to invade the sanctity of her twat for the second time in her newly achieved womanhood. Possibly the tight walls had relaxed after the first brutal onslaught and would open up to allow a painless, enjoyable capitulation.
The way Dick had got her legs up in the air, she had no control of the situation and could not adjust herself to regulate the amount of cock that knifed into her. She was supine and helpless, giving herself in trust to the man she loved. Whatever he did to her, she was powerless to prevent it. She was yielding woman, at the mercy of her dominating masculine lover.
Again the half-buried head was withdrawn and slid along the length of her slit until her gasp of disappointment was changed into one of delight as it rubbed against her love button, sending a jangling, clamorous message racing through her sexual telegraph.
She forced her contorted body higher in an attempt to end the torture and envelop the elusive prick in her eager twat. She was helplessly dependent on the whim of her stronger partner.
Again Dick's demand cut across her consciousness, his words demonstrating the doubt he had in his mind about the Tightness of plunging his prick into the squirming girl under him.
"Tell me that you want it. Do you realize what I'm going to do to you?"
"Yes, yes. I want it," was Jodie's fevered response. Her voice choked into sobs. "Give it to me. Plunge it into me until I've got all of you inside me. Even if I cry out. Make me have it..."
Convinced of her need, Dick lifted his tool until it was once again centered on the twitching target of her twat hole.
"Now? You want it now?" he asked in a gentle tone.
Jodie nodded her head and tried to relax her cunt muscles against the pain that she knew would tear through her.
Sympathetically, Dick tenderly eased the head of his distended staff into her well-lubricated vagina. Jodie tried to raise her head to watch the progress. Surprisingly, she felt no pain or discomfort, only an overpowering sense of relief that she had faced up to the mature responsibility of her adulthood.
It was more than a sense of mental relief, though, she admitted. There was a satisfaction beginning to flood the yielding depths of her love-hungry cunt as well. A wonderful, warm, tingling, out-of-this world satisfaction that seemed to indicate the joys that she would soon be experiencing.
Steadily, firmly, Dick let his throbbing member find its own way into her slippy passage. The tightness of her twat seemed to wrap itself around him, embracing every searching inch of his prick. There was no need to force and drive into her. The saturated vagina felt as if it was willingly absorbing him into its luscious depths.
Raising her head again, Jodie saw with satisfaction that already half of the once-frightening prick was buried in her.
There seemed to be a Tightness about the way the rod stuck into her, connecting the two of them in an unbreakable union. Before she lowered her head back, another inch had worked its inexorable way into her. A wild, tingling sensation was beginning to surge through the walls of her cunt as if the fleshy probe were an electric rod and not flesh and bone.
She had heard the girls at school talk about using electric vibrators on themselves. This, she thought, must be the sensation they tried to describe to her. Only better. Much better. The tool that was penetrating her was not some artificial substitute, but the real thing. The hard, dilated extension of the man she loved.
She gasped as another solid inch of muscle slid into her.
"Am I hurting you, darling?" Dick asked solicitously.
"No, it's beautiful. Don't stop. Give it to me easily and it'll be all right."
Dick was six inches into her already. He had felt the slight push of her cervix as he nosed past it a moment ago. Now the purple penis head was pressing against the fleshy top of her passage.
"I'm in as far as I can go without hurting you, I think."
Jodie raised her sweating head again as he spoke. Straining her neck, she smiled contortedly when she saw how far she had been able to accept the challenge. Only the short, stubby base of her uncle's prick protruded from the fleshy lips of her stretched pussy.
Like a martyr giving the signal for the headsman's axe to fall, she smiled bravely at Dick.
"All the way, darling. Push it right in. Completely. I want a total experience or nothing at all."
She winced as the pleasure of achievement turned to pain. The implacable dong had begun to penetrate deeper, pushing its rigidity against the near-tearing depths of her tight canal.
The pain surged through her like waves of breaking surf. Resignedly, she allowed herself to be carried along by each curling, red-crested wave of pain until the storm subsided and she found herself slipping into the pain-free troughs between the breakers.
Exultantly she felt the slap of Dick's scrotum against the softness of her raised ass. A cry of triumph broke from between her tightly drawn lips. She had done it-taken the whole, bulging dilated dick into her near-virgin pussy and lived to gloat over the achievement.
"Now," she instructed her impaler, "slide it out slowly, then let's do it all over again. Gently. Gently.
At her command, Dick began to withdraw the throbbing length of his peter until, with a wet sucking sound, it lay with just the head inserted in her blonde-fringed nest. The blue-veined whiteness of his tool glistened with her sparkling secretions. As if reluctant to relinquish its captive, the fleshy love lips had reached forward and were wrapped around his probe like a hungry mouth. The delicately thin membranes were almost translucent, allowing the pumping blood of her passion to tinge them like the petals of a flower.
Dick looked at her questioningly. "Are you ready for it, hon?"
Once more Jodie signalled her agreement, and the mighty engine of her destruction began its work. The passage of the steel tool was easier this time as Jodie no longer tensed herself, feeling that she already knew the extent of any pain she might suffer on this insertion.
The pain was definitely less. Now she could concentrate on the fantastic sensation as her uncle cleaved into her. The sensitive walls of her love pit could distinguish every muscle and ridge of the dong as it rubbed against them. Every savory fold registered its own shock of delight as it opened to embrace the gorged joystick.
Fraction by imperceptible fraction, the sinuous snake buried itself in its burrow, until Jodie could feel the slap of his balls on her ass again.
"How was it that time, baby?" Dick asked.
"Fine. I'm really getting turned on to it. Try it a little faster next time. I think I can manage it," Jodie reassured him.
Eagerly Dick thrust himself into her once more. This time he followed the girl's instructions and speeded the passage of his prick with the steady pressure of his hips.
As wonderful as the slow easy penetration had been previously, this quicker jab brought out all the delights of her tightly encompassing cunt. It touched him with a soft, silky caress as he slid his prick unhesitatingly into the yielding accepting depths of her brimming love well. The bed squeaked approvingly as he reached the end of his stroke and his groin slammed against the buffer of her upraised ass. His swinging goolies slapped fleshily against her before he withdrew for another searing insertion.
Steadily, with mounting speed and excitement, came the rhythmic plunge and withdrawal until the gasping girl ceased her instructions and lapsed into an incoherent babble of desire.
"More... give me more... faster... fast... er... ohhhhhhhh... my God...."
All lingering trace of pain from the previous violation had vanished, leaving only the heady experience of the powerful plunging prick that swept everything before its conquering path. Faster and faster came the impetuous thrust, slap and withdrawal until Jodie felt that she would scream at the intensity of her cravings.
Dick was tireless. His rigid, sex-tensed body thrust and heaved as he slammed the length of his prick into the eager slit of the submissive girl. His ramrod worked with the rapidity of an engine, unfaltering in its steady stroke.
Both of them were bathed in sweat. Their lungs labored as they tried to draw in more oxygen feed the passionate fires that roared inside them.
Inevitably, the threshing lovers, stimulated beyond bearing, reached the razor's edge of their climax.
Caught in a frenzy beyond his control, Dick battled to hold back the gushing release of his sperm until he felt that his partner was ready to peak with him. On the last, delicious withdrawal before the final eruption, Dick felt Jodie tense beneath him and her quim begin its pre-orgasmal spasm.
Too late to hold back any longer, Dick utilized the few final thrusts to their best advantage. Indifferent to any possible pain or discomfort that he may give her, he engaged in a blind orgy of thrust and withdrawal, slamming his rod into her as the pulsating tool shot its cargo of seething sperm against the slick walls of her cunt.
As he grunted his cry of animal triumph!, it merged with Jodie's awed announcement. "I've come again. Oh Dick, you've made me come again. You are wonderful."
Dick collapsed on top of her and his lips sought hers in a hot, open-mouthed kiss. Their tongues met, darting in and out of each other's mouth as if they could never get enough of the taste of each other.
Words of love spilled from them between kisses. A fantastic feeling of well-being welled up from deep inside them, pushing out deep bursts of uncontrollable laughter.
"Oh, darling. Dear darling wonderful Jodie. I feel so goddamned good. So right. So gloriously clean and free."
They clung to each other, holding on to each other, holding on to each other's body, and the greatness of the moment as if it would slip from them, plunging them back again into the black, lonely years of their pasts. Finally they relaxed.
Laughing helplessly, Dick rolled over on his side. His hands held his painfully heaving stomach.
Free of his compressing weight, Jodie strengthened her contorted body out, stretching her cramped legs until they reached the limit of the bed. The hot sticky sperm which had been held in the inverted cup of her cunt poured from her in a viscous stream.
Instinctively she put her hand over her twat to stem the flow. Unchecked, the semen flowed through her fingers and onto the sheets. Withdrawing her hand from the rapidly cooling pool, she gazed at its gooey contents. Weblike strands of spermatozoa stretched between her fingers like telephone wires. She rubbed them playfully onto Dick's hairy chest. "Eeeeek, I'm oozing all over the place. Quick, get me a Kleenex before I flood the world with sperm."
Reaching up, Dick grabbed a handful of tissue from a box above the bedhead.
Thankfully Jodie took them and wiped the discharge from her overflowing pussy. "It's an awful waste to let it just spill out like this. Why can't I keep it inside me for always?" she asked. "I think I like the feeling of being screwed best, but at the end, I think I'd rather swallow your come than let it just spill out of me like this."
Dick screwed up his eyes and looked at her through the little crinkles of laughter lines. "What you want is a goddamned contortionist for a lover. Or someone with two dongs. One growing out of the middle of his forehead. That way you could suck on it while you were getting laid."
Jodie laughed back at him. "All right, professor. Grow one and keep me happy."
She wadded up the sperm-soaked Kleenex and threw the sopping mass in the direction of the fireplace. It made a soft, spatting sound as it struck the stones and dropped onto the hearth.
She snuggled up into the crook of Dick's arm, contentedly. "You know," she told him. "If I were a cat, I'd purr, I feel so contented."
She sniffed under his armpits delicately. "Speaking of animals," she announced, "you know what you smell like?"
"What, honey?" Dick's voice was drowsy and distant.
"A bear. Go and have a bath."
Dick shook his head. "Only dirty people wash. People who screw all day and half the night fall asleep occasionally. Shut your eyes and be quiet for a minute."
He yawned into the pillow. "Five minutes, that's all. Then I'll get up, conquer the world. Have a bath or anything else your heart desires."
Jodie took his head and laid it on the soft fullness of her breasts. His breathing became deeper and heavier until he fell into an exhausted sleep. Jodie held him close, glad of the chance to bring comfort and love to the man that had given her so much. Her thoughts drifted pleasantly until she, too, closed her eyes and her breath merged with that of the sleeping Dick.
CHAPTER FIVE
Jodie woke up with a start. Dick was still sleeping soundly. He had not moved from his previous position on her breast. His mouth was open and his warm breath played over the soft skin of her tits.
Idly she ran her fingers through his hair, content to just lie there and relish the closeness of their being. It was wonderfully fulfilling to know the unity that existed between them.
She wondered which was the nicest among the many facets of their love. Being screwed was wild, with a glorious, 'way-out abandon of her own personality in the brutal battering of her man's pounding prick. But she admitted to herself that the tranquility and peace of the after moments, like these, did things to her lonely, love-starved soul that was like oil on the troubled waters of her emotion.
She hugged the sleeping man to her impulsively. "I love you, darling. Love you and need you more than you'll ever know."
Dick stirred and mumbled sleepily. "Huh, what's a matter?"
"Nothing. Just I love you," Jodie told him.
She made a point of her breast with her hand and fed it into his half-open mouth. Dick sucked on the firm flesh for a few blissful moments before opening his eyes.
"I don't think there is a nicer way to wake up. Gimme more."
She pressed both of her full tits together until the nipples merged over the fold between them. Dick slid his mouth across until both of the luscious, sweet-tasting berries were firmly held between his teeth.
His tongue raced frantically from one succulent tidbit to the other. With a snort, he buried himself deep with the mounds of her cupped boobs, his rushing breath causing the firm mounds to vibrate as if endowed with a means of expressing their happiness over the stimulating treatment.
"Quit it. You sex fiend. You know what will happen if we keep this up?"
She wriggled free of his grasp and stood beside the bed. Her naked body shook with laughter, belying the seeming severity of her words.
"Are you going to get out of bed, you lazy sex-crazed pig?"
Dick looked adamant. "No, and I'll like to see you make me."
"Any way that I like? No holds barred?" she asked him.
Dick nodded his head and braced himself for the onslaught.
"Alright, here goes," As she spoke, the girl darted forward and thrust her head into his hairy lap. Her open mouth had had much practice and centered over his half-hard prick as if it were a homing pigeon. Sucking, she drew the limp member deep into the wet trap and closed her lips firmly over it. Dick's struggles were unable to break the powerful vacuum that was engulfing his tender tool.
Gradually the delightful sensation of her revolving tongue broke through his struggles, until far from trying to fight her off, he was trying to stuff more and more of his hardening dong into his red-lipped tormentor.
Anticipating his reaction, Jodie was ready for the maneuver. As Dick thrust himself forward, she retreated, still sucking on his peter, but moving her body away.
There was only one way for Dick to go and that was forward. First she had him kneeling on the bed. Then off it and on the floor. Bending double over her captive, like the proverbial early bird with a worm, she led him and his pumping hips towards the door.
Putting her hand on the doorknob, she asked. "Well, do I lead you up to the bathroom like this, or can you make it on your own?"
Realistically, Dick admitted defeat. Though he was quite prepared to be led around by the prick for the rest of his happy life, he realized that it would cause some comment among the neighbors, to say the least.
Reluctantly, he let his member slide out of Jodie's embracing mouth and turned to put some clothes on.
"Alright, You win this round. What comes next?"
"A bath. You smell like a bear and I feel like a bill poster's bucket."
Dick looked at her sharply as he struggled into his pants.
"At times, my dear, there is a rather engaging crudity about you. Let's go back to bed and work it off, shall we?" he asked hopefully.
"No way, lover. No way at all. We are going to act like any normal married couple and put our flushed faces outside the door for the world to say hello to."
She picked up the wrinkled clothes that she had thrown down so eagerly the night before.
"These will do for now. I'll change after I've had a bath."
Smoothing her skirt down, she turned and, taking her uncle by the hand, led him in search of hot water. She paused outside in the passageway. Dick pointed to a bend in the corridor.
"It's that way, Let's introduce you to the marble delights of our old world bathroom."
He paused in front of a half-open door. The sound of movement drifted through the crack between the door and the jamb. His fingers rapped inquiringly on the panel as he called.
"Hello, anybody at home?"
A seductive, sultry female's voice drawled. "Why surely. Come in, Dick baby."
Dick coughed nervously. "Are you decent, Sin? I'd like you to meet my young niece."
"Of course I'm not decent," the voice cooed back. "I'm too young for these affectations. Come in anyway and introduce your family to your indecent friends."
Smiling apologetically, Dick motioned Jodie to go first and pushed the door open.
A black-haired girl of breathtaking loveliness turned to greet them. She was clad only in a pair of bikini briefs and seemed to have been interrupted while cleaning her evenly spaced white teeth. She appeared to be totally indifferent to both the white foam of toothpaste that lined her full lips, and the fact that she was naked from the waist up and displaying the biggest pair of knockers that Jodie had ever seen. Her arms compressed them to the shapes of ripe melons as she turned toward the startled girl. Sweeping the nonplussed Jodie to her, she held her tight in her outstretched arms.
"So you're the girl that Dick's been keeping secret about. You're lovely. My name's Cynthia. Sin for short. And on a moment's notice, too."
She winked at Dick. "Not that I could ever manage to lead your austere uncle astray."
She held Jodie away from her for a second. "Say, does he really have one? I used to find him very unnerving at first. He's the only guy that never tried to get into my pants. Did all kinds of disastrous things to my ego. I thought I was getting old and ugly. Now I know that he's really a secret guru and absolutely brimming over with spirituality and blank verse."
The astonishing girl broke off her monologue for an instant to question Jodie. "Truthfully now. Has he laid you yet?"
Her knowing eyes found the answer in Jodie's blushing face. "He did. Jesus, he did."
She rushed over to the petrified Dick and planted a noisy kiss on his forehead. The full, oversized breasts dug into Dick's hairy chest as she pressed him to her.
She winked roguishly over his shoulder. "How was he? Did he perform alright? I think he's still a he-virgin. Be gentle with him at first. It's amazing how quickly the bastards learn, though. Sex is so simple, really. As the man says, once you have learned to like the smell, you're got it licked."
Dick tried to break into the flow of Sin's words. Turning toward Jodie, he scanned her face for the signs of embarrassment that he was sure that she would be feeling. The reverse seemed to be the case.
Jodie was staring at the girl with something approaching delighted accord. Jodie's attitude seemed to be that of a novice listening to the informed words of a Mother Superior. Dick looked from one girl to the other in bewilderment.
Placing her hand on the small of his back, Cynthia pushed him toward the bathroom door.
"Boat it, will you. We girls have a lot to talk about. What's more, I know that she wants a bath." She turned towards the silent Jodie. "Doesn't it feel all sticky and gooey after screwing all night? It's a hell of a messy business being laid. I sometimes think that if instead of shooting out sperm, something useful would be nicer. Like hand lotion, or vin rose. Or even chicken broth to help us keep our strength up on these long arduous nights."
Cynthia pushed the door to behind Dick and turned the lock. Idly Jodie wondered why. She didn't bother to close the door when she was in here herself. Anybody could come in and watch her boobies bounce around, but she didn't seem to want Jodie to be placed in the same situation. Still keeping up her apparently unending conversation, the statuesque brunette leaned over and turned the bath taps on full. She poured a liberal amount of foaming bath oil into the water from a pink-and-gold bottle.
"Here," she went on, "I'll let you use some of my stuff. Always makes me feel wicked and Cleopatra-like."
Wordlessly Jodie watched the foam form on top of the swirling water as Cynthia's fingers began to unbutton her clothes. One by one, she felt the covering garments being peeled from her until she was standing naked in front of the observant older girl.
The difference in their two figures was interesting. While Jodie's pert, slim body with its firm high breasts and finely molded contours seemed to be expressive of purity and the ethereal stuff that men's dreams were made of, the other girl's ripe fullness and striking dark beauty embodied all that a man looked for with the more lustful side of his nature.
Her luxuriant, long hair shone with all the luster for forbidden sin as it cascaded over her suntanned shoulders. Curling slightly at the ends, it swept its caress over the huge swellings of her tits. Unlike the defiant thrust of Jodie's conical mammaries, the other girl's knockers were fantastically proportioned, billowing seas of titty that a man could be swept up to his doom upon. A delicious dish. The breasts themselves like two huge watermelons, the nipples like ripe plums. Her stomach swelled out to meet her thighs like the portraits Jodie had seen of the overripe beauties so popular with the early Dutch painters. Her waist was wickedly contoured to send a man crazy with desire, on his knees, gibbering and slobbering for admission to the black hairy patch that covered her bulging mound of Venus. And her eyes. Eyes that looked upon you with a smoldering knowledge of all your sins and secret desire.
Those same eyes now took stock of the girl who stood naked and defenseless in front of her. They seemed to gloat upon the childlike simplicity and trust, stripping it away and laying bare the passionate needs of the girl before her. Jodie could feel her gaze as if it were a physical thing. She was conscious of the older girl's eyes as if they were two hands fondling her young flesh, caressing her and brushing aside her inhibitions like so much worthless chaff to be disposed of before she could reap the harvest of her new maturity.
Somehow Jodie was neither surprised nor repulsed when Cynthia bent her head and kissed her fondly on the pink tips of her breasts. Jodie stood for an uncomprehending minute before she realized what was happening. Then, to her amazement, instead of feeling annoyed or full of shame, the soft flesh of her kissed nipples began to firm with desire and offer themselves to the tongued salutation of the other girl.
Straightening up, Cynthia looked unashamed into Jodie's face.
"You are very beautiful and I get turned on to beauty. There's so much goddamned ugliness and war in this world. When I see someone like you, I want to merge, bury myself in something wholesome for a change."
She gave Jodie a light, tender kiss on the mouth before pointing at the overflowing bath.
"But I talk too much. Hop in and I'll give you a bath."
The matter-of-fact manner of her command left Jodie no alternative but to obey. If this was the usual behavior of these way-out people who seemed to be Dick's friends, she didn't want to appear young and prudish in front of them.
Obediently, Jodie stepped over the rim of the bath and lowered herself into the foamy water.
"Oh, Cyn, you've made it too hot," she protested as the scalding water bit at her tender flesh.
"Nonsense," was the reply. "It will help relax you. What's more, you're going to need it plenty hot to get all the cum out of your crack. It sticks to pubic hair like burrs to a burro."
Jodie lowered herself deeper into the boiling hot water. Gradually her body adjusted to the temperature and she felt the comforting protection of the obscuring suds as they enveloped her breasts with their opalescent globule of light. Her new friend watched her until the last shimmer of flesh had disappeared under the water. Then she turned and went back to the washbasin. She surveyed the dry line of toothpaste around her lips.
"There, it looks as if I've swallowed it. Though it's not the first time."
She turned to Jodie, a conspiratorial grin on her face.
"Tell me," she asked bluntly. "Do you swallow it or do you spit it out?"
"Do you mean toothpaste?" Jodie countered.
"No, you clot... cum," the older girl said sharply.
Jodie tried to look unconcerned and decided that frankness seemed to be indicated.
"Well, er... I swallow it, I guess."
"Really, that's interesting."
"Why?" Jodie asked.
"Well, I think that it proves when a girl really loves the guy she's blowing. If she does, she wants a part of him. Something intimate and essentially him inside her. If she is just passing the time, sucking his dick because there's nothing on TV, then it seems to be a presumption on the guy's part. Imagining that he can pump her full of his cum, that she'll accept it like a fool will accept lies. Do you follow what I'm trying to say?" she finished lamely.
Jodie nodded her head in complete agreement. "Yeah, I do. Yes. But to tell the truth, I've never blown a guy that I didn't like."
Cynthia looked at her quizzically. "You must have a lot of friends and be easy to please, then."
Jodie looked crestfallen at the interpretation that the older more experienced girl had put on her reply.
"No, it's not that." She gained courage and frankness as she spoke. "It's that I've never sucked anyone's cock but my uncle's. It's real groovy. The most wonderful, biggest, strongest one in the whole world as well," she finished proudly.
Cynthia laughed at her enthusiasm. "You'd better suck a few more and make comparisons before you get so dogmatic about it, hadn't you? Perhaps we should organize a cocksucking party one night and see what you think then."
She had a nostalgic look on her face as she went on talking. "We had a ball one night. A weird trip. The guys stripped off and the girls were blindfolded. We had to try and identify them."
"What's so difficult about that?" Jodie asked her.
"Did you ever try to identify a man by the way he pushes his prick down your throat? Though once you've got the hang of it, it's as certain as fingerprinting them. Each one has a different technique. You'll find out, though, in time. I find myself looking at fellows and wondering what they'd be like as I'm blowing them."
She made a grimace. "Imagine Spiro Agnew getting his rocks off in your face. But Paul Newman would be dreamy."
Looking at the other girl, she asked in her disconcerting manner, "Who in the world would you like most to blow?"
Jodie answered with prompt certainty. "Why, my Uncle Dick, of course."
Cyn leaned over the basin to wet her mouth. Her words were barely distinguishable as she said pityingly, "Jodie, my child, there is a lamentable lack of enterprise in you that I will have to rectify."
Jodie tried to ignore the implication of her friend's offer and busied herself with soaping her feet. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Cyn's mountainous tits as they pressed against the edge of the basin. The cold porcelain rim had dug into the bulging mounds, squeezing them upward so that they spilled over into the bowl itself. The cold water from the running tap slashed against them, causing the dark-hued nipples to harden until they stuck out, wrinkled and brown as prunes, from the chocolate-colored circles surrounding them.
Catching sight of Jodie's surreptitious glances, Cyn looked down at her knockers.
"Damn, The cold always does that to them. Makes them look ugly, doesn't it?" She carefully lifted one breast up at a time and pinched the nipples back into their original appetizing shape. She spat out a mouthful of water and surveyed her teeth in the cabinet mirror.
"They don't look so bad, do they? I'm twenty two-and still got a full head of teeth. Not bad for an old lady. It's the hot meat injections that do it. I'm absolutely brimming over with proteins and things."
Her full boobs bounced happily as she crossed the floor to where Jodie lay listening in the bath.
"Don't pay too much attention to me when I ramble on. My psych explained it to me once. It's a symbol of self-doubt. I'm trying to convince myself that I'm doing what I want to do and having a hell of a good time while I'm doing it."
She sat down on the edge of the toilet bowl. "Life can be awfully lonely if you ever stop and think about it. Gives you an empty feeling. Like you've got nothing and never achieved anything. Makes you want to go out and do something decisive. Influence people. Feel a little of the intoxication that's supposed to come with power. Hell. Power? The only feeling of power I ever get is when I have some guy writhing about on the end of the prick I'm sucking. Do you ever get that feeling?"
Jodie's heart went out to the poor lonely girl sitting in isolation a few short feet away from her.
"No," she answered. "I've never felt any power like you said. I've felt really turned on when I was sucking Dick's thing. All warm and giving sort of. But never power."
Her voice was sympathetic as she smiled up at Cyn. "I know what you mean about being lonely, though. I've been lonely all my life. Except for the times when my uncle was around. He's a lovely person. He kind of gives out, if you know what I mean?" She looked up searchingly.
Cyn laughed at her. "I'll bet he gives out. I saw the way you looked when you came in here this morning. He'd been giving out pretty heavily from the way you were walking. Looked as if he'd left a little bit of what he'd been giving out between your legs."
Jodie tried to smile at her friend's blunt way of speaking. Though most of the talk was bordering on the offensive and a few days before, Jodie would have shunned anyone who asked her questions as Cyn did, she was beginning to see beneath the other girl's facade. It was like her boy friend's mask. Both were nice people underneath the posture that they presented to the world. Nice people. But lonely and afraid. The only way that Jodie knew to establish a relationship with people was to give. Give of herself.
Trying to establish an intimacy between them, a common bond of their femininity, Jodie sat up in the water and presented her boyish back to Cyn.
"Here," she told her. "I thought that you said something about scrubbing my back. I think you are just talking to get out of your promises."
Her friend stood up and reached for the soap, her pendulous breasts swung inches away from Jodie's upturned face.
"What the hell, why not," Cynthia shrugged. "And why stop at the back? May as well do the lot while I've got my hands wet."
CHAPTER SIX
Jodie tensed herself for the feel of another woman's hands gliding over her skin. Despite her fears, it was a pleasant sensation. Cyn was tender and gentle as a man could never be. She arched her back to allow Cyn to traverse the full length of her body with her soapy searching hands.
The suds were plentiful and rolled off her body like snow before the melting sun. Unthinking, Cyn reached under Jodie to scoop some of the lather up that was dripping down Jodie's hanging boobs.
Jodie squirmed instinctively.
"Sorry, h'on. Does it bother you?"
Again, Jodie answered quite truthfully. "No, it's rather nice, really. It's just that you took me by surprise, that's all."
"That's good," Cynthia told her. "'Cause I'm going to do your front now. Turn around."
Jodie turned as she was told and knelt up in the water. Taking the scented soap in her hand, Cyn let it glide over Jodie's body like a caress. Taking the hands first, she rubbed between the pliant fingers before working her way up the arms. Cyn's fingers were wrapped around Jodie's slim forearm as if it were a hard cock. She ran her experienced palms along its soapy length, allowing her fingers to drift softly along the inner length as if she were working on the sensitive underside of a massive penis.
"Like it?" she asked softly. Her voice was like a crooned lullaby as she spoke. Jodie closed her eyes and surrendered herself to the ministrations of the other girl.
"It's dreamy. Don't stop. It's like one of those expensive massages they talk about on the TV."
Imperceptibly, Cyn's hands worked their way along the arms until they disappeared into the sensitive hollows of Jodie's armpits.
A little giggle escaped the girl as the fingers tickled her. "Don't squirm," Cyn admonished, as the bathwater splashed dangerously as Jodie tried to wriggle free of the stimulating fingers.
"If you carry on like this while I'm doing your armpits, what's going to happen when I really get into a sensitive spot?"
Fighting back her impulse to wriggle free, Jodie felt the hands start to slip from the recesses of her armpits, over her chest, to fumble tantalizingly against the prominences of her trembling tits.
Suddenly Cyn's hands stopped their circular massage and Jodie opened her eyes to find an expression of horror on her friend's face.
"What the hell happened to you?" Her fingers were pointing questioningly at the stripes across Jodie's firm breasts.
Looking down, Jodie's mind seemed to detach itself, allowing her to examine the marks that her father had branded across her bosom as if they were scarring flesh that was not her own. The stripes that had emblazoned in fiery red the signs of her father's sickness had now resolved themselves into ugly blue-brown bruises. The leather tongue of parental discipline had left its imprint upon Jodie's mind as well as her abused flesh.
Tears welled up in her eyes as the memory raced back into her confused mind.
"What happened to you?" Cyn demanded once more.
Jodie's voice was a broken whisper as she replied. "I... sort of..."
Her mind raced frantically in its search for an answer that would not expose the disgust and disgrace of her home life.
"Well... I ran into a... a... door, she finished lamely.
"You're a goddamned poor liar," Cyn explained angrily. "It looks more as if you ran into some sadist with a whip. Who was it?"
Jodie turned her head away, afraid that if she let the penetrating eyes of the worldly Cynthia see her face, they would bore into her, dragging the secret from her.
A sudden doubt seemed to indicate itself in the other girl's voice. "Say, it wasn't Dick, was it?"
Unthinkingly, Jodie rushed to her lover's defense. "Of course it wasn't. Dick wouldn't do a thing like this. That is why I came here. To escape."
"Who from?" Cynthia demanded.
The words gushed from Jodie in a torrent of relief. The ability to confide in another woman was like a healing salve easing the aches in her damaged, unhappy mind.
Cynthia did not utter a word until the end of Jodie's hacking, sob-wracked confession. Then, reaching out, she pressed Jodie's tear-stained face to her compassionately.
"That's one of the most horrible things that I have ever heard. Even had you let that Mexican boy into your pants, which you didn't, to have beaten you like that would have been fiendish. But after you fought him off, to have this treatment for your reward was just too much. This must have done ghastly things to your mind. Destroyed your entire set of values."
Jodie sobbed quietly into the comforting breast of her friend. Her tears were wetting the large, rubbery nipples until they hardened and dug into the peach-soft flesh of Jodie's cheeks.
They were comforting, positive and maternal, easing the pain that coursed through the grief-stricken girl. Cyn spoke softly as she cradled Jodie's head to her ample breast. The soft soothing words were meaningless to Jodie, but the sound of the other's sympathy broke through the walls of her anguish.
Jodie's sobs were quieted under the soft stroking of Cyn's hands. Gradually she became aware of words and meanings in the soft strokings of the voice that poured over her.
"Maybe Jerry can help... If something isn't done to blot the memory out, it will mar your whole life. Push all your thinking off balance. He's quite an accomplished hypnotist. Let him help you. He can remove the dark memory from your mind and let you laugh again. Leave everything to me. I'll talk to him about it. I'm sure he'll agree to help you. Then everything will be all right again, okay?"
Trustingly Jodie nodded her acceptance of the plan. Anything. Anything that would end the confusion and pain that clouded her judgment. She would leave everything in the hands of her practical, understanding new friend. Her face brightened in the confidence of her decision and she smiled through the glittering tears.
"You know best, Cyn. I'll do whatever you think is right."
Rapidly Cynthia adjusted to the change in her friend. A decision had been reached and there was no longer any need to labor it. The compassionate croon of her voice changed into her normal jocularity.
"Alright. That's it, then. No more talking about it." She surveyed the dried soap lather on Jodie's body.
"Say, I didn't mean to change the subject. I was going to wash you, wasn't I?" Her eyes twinkled. She ladled water onto Jodie's bruised body. "I'll be as gentle as I can. Let me know if I hurt you."
Tenderly the older girl ran her hands over the lathered curves as if her cleansing fingers could wash away the filth of a crazed father's corruption.
Jodie knelt submissively and let the soft hands wander where they willed without protest. The confession she had made seemed to form a bond that she felt between them. A bond that allowed Cyn to explore the secret places of her body as easily as she had explored the secret places of her mind.
Idly she let her thoughts wander, letting them drift among the experiences that had intruded upon her forming mind during the last few teeming days. Detached, she compared her attitudes. How they had changed so abruptly under the catalyst of experience. Two days ago, she would have been unable to accept the fact that she was allowing her naked body to be caressed by another woman. Now it seemed the most normal and natural thing in the world.
Then came her introduction to the throbbing passionate world of sexuality. The tearing flood of pain as she lost her virginity to the man that she loved. Her eager mouth's acceptance of his pumping, spouting cock. The way her nipples had hardened to the kiss of her new girl friend. And the satisfaction that was coursing through her at the stimulation of Cyn's teasing fingers.
Unthinkingly she arched her back to allow Cyn to rub the soap into a lather over her stomach and bushy pubic hair. The soap-slick hand slipped easily into the vee of her crotch, sending a shock of surprise tingling through her groin.
This was a totally new experience for her. Intoxication awaited her. Cynthia's other hand, which had been massaging her tits with a steady rotating movement, crept down over her stomach and, forcing the unresisting legs apart, began to manipulate her rampant clitoris.
The reaction was immediate. A wild, convulsive shudder ran through the aroused girl as she soared onto a plateau of impossible pleasure. She opened her legs wider until her knees were pressing against the restraining sides of the tub. She forced herself upward like a sacrificial victim seeking the knife of her executioner.
Despite her body's willingness, her mind still had lingering vestiges of doubt. What if Dick was to learn of this surrender? Would he class it as a perversion, or would he be able to understand the deep communication that Jodie read into the other girl's touch? But must he know? Must he be in the position to make a judgment? Remembering the locked door, Jodie realized that he might never know-that this wild, secret stimulation was something between her and Cyn, a part of her life that he need not learn of. Her mind made up, she flung herself wildly into the probing fingers, totally committed to her decision.
Moments later she climaxed in a thrashing whirl of limbs. The swirling water that splashed about her writhing body was like the engulfing tide of passion that washed over her reason.
All her life she had been led to believe that what she had just allowed to happen was a sin. An unnatural sex act between two women... lesbianism... but this was not. It was beautiful.
The whispered word lesbian... lesbian... repeated itself in her mind. No... no... she answered. This is different. This is me, Jodie. Adult, grown up, and living a free, responsible life according to the standards that people who use that word would not understand or even accept.
She held her hand out to Cyn. "Thank you for giving me so much. You've told me things. So many things. And shown me, too. Thank you for being my friend."
Cynthia turned away to the washbasin to hide the expression on her face. Jodie looked at her retreating back with a grateful smile on her young, soft face. Cynthia turned again to the young girl.
Her face and voice was composed as she spoke. "I'm going to split now. Must get back to Jerry before he comes hammering at the door, thinking I've fallen down the plug hole. I'll only tell him as much as he needs to know about us. I suggest that you don't take Dick too deeply into your confidence. Men have funny attitudes about things like -this."
She winked at Jodie and closed the door behind her. Alone in the room, Jodie stood up in the bath and reached for the towel.
The water coursed down her naked body like the tensions and doubts that drained from her mind. Everything was going to be all right. She had a man who loved her. A man that she had worshipped from her childhood and was now able to reward with the gift of her ripened mature body. She had found a woman who she could confide in and call friend. A woman, furthermore, who was much older and wiser than she. Someone who could take her hand and lead her through a garden of hidden secret delights that had not been known to her a few hours ago.
And in the background, as yet only vaguely known was Jerry. Jerry, who with his cynicism made light of her tragedy, making her see that the end of the world had not happened. That she was alive and young and the future did hold a promise. A promise of a worthwhile, rewarding life with people who had a place for her in their scheme of things.
She carefully dabbed the remaining drops of water from her curvaceous body and stepped out to face a bright future. Wrapping the damp towel around her, she tucked it in tight above her breasts like a sarong, then stooped down to pick up her soiled clothes. The towel parted at the side to reveal the flesh of her thigh.
Glancing down, she realized that it didn't matter a damn. She was moving in an emancipated circle where no one was troubled by the sight of a bare leg. It was what you were that counted, not how you looked. She remembered how, on her first meeting with Jerry in the kitchen, she had been dressed atrociously in that worn-out serape of her uncle's, and yet Jerry had never remarked on it, but had accepted her for what she was underneath. He had looked beyond the covering of borrowed clothes. Looked into the real her and liked what he had seen. And wanted to see some more of her. She thought of how Dick had been doubtful when she told him of the invitation for the two of them to visit with his friends. She would show Dick that she was able to take care of herself and mix freely with all sorts of people.
They would stop by today. Strike while the iron was hot. And what was that that Cyn had told her? Something about Jerry being able to soothe away the experience that she had suffered with her father. That would be good. He was going to use hypnosis, Cynthia had said.
Jodie remembered reading a book about it a little while before. There had been case histories in which a practitioner had cured all kinds of complex problems for people. Some had been much worse than the upset that she had suffered. She would show how broadminded she was and not fight against Jerry when he was trying to put her to sleep. She would surrender herself completely and let him have complete access to her mind. Let him in absolutely so that he could find the parts of her life that she wished to forget and eradicate them entirely.
She opened the door and walked composedly down the passageway to Dick's room. Nobody was about and she chided herself for worrying about a silly thing like a few inches of her thigh showing under the folds of the towel. Life was like that. If you worried and prepared for a-thing, it never happened. It was the unexpected that sneaked up behind you and dealt such a devastating blow.
She paused outside her uncle's door. The sound of organ music swelled upward in breathtaking spirals. She pushed open the door and entered.
Her uncle was running over the tops of his books with a cloth. The smell of furniture polish hung heavily about the room. The table top, that had been so littered before, was now clear of all the rubbish and showed a gleaming coat of freshly applied polish over its scarred surface.
Dick looked up and saw her standing there. He crossed the room and turned the volume down on the record player.
"Hi, welcome. One sparkling clean woman returns to the freshly cleaned scene of her ruin. How does it look?"
Jodie motioned for him to turn the volume down again. It was impossible to make herself heard above the throbbing runs of the music.
Dick turned the knob to a lower position. "Sorry about the racket." He handed her the album jacket. "A Bach fugue. I love the mathematical precision of his music. Makes me want to be tidy and efficient. Even made me tidy up the room a bit."
He held his arms out to Jodie. "Well, he helped. The real reason was you. You've come into my life, and from now on I want your surroundings to reflect the beauty that I found in you."
He held her tight for a moment, then, stepping back a little, he loosed the knotted towel where it cut into the swell of her breasts. He pulled the covering away from her like an artist unveiling a statue that he had created.
His eyes surveyed her narrowly. "You haven't changed a bit in the time you've been soaking in the bathroom. You're still as lovely as I remembered you."
Jodie held her face against his shoulder, afraid that her expression would give her away. That the enormity of what she had done with Cynthia would be branded across her face as surely as the marks of her father's passions were branded across her body. It was almost a feeling of relief when Dick lifted her up in his arms and pressed his face into the softness of her breasts.
The roughness of his beard chaffed against the tender pinkness of her nipples and drove out all feelings of guilt that she felt over her conduct with Cynthia.
She struggled against him with pretended fury. "Put me down, you ape. You know what will happen if you carry on like this. Where are all the resolutions that your precious Bach has flooded you with? Tidiness and order. We'll end up in bed again and there'll be a bigger mess than ever."
She pulled at his beard with her teeth. "Ugh. You taste all animally. Go and have a bath. You're a dirty old man of twenty-five and you disgust me."
Dick carried her, kicking, over to the bed. Lifting her high in his arms, he dropped her onto the bouncing, protesting bed.
"Okay, you've talked me into it. I'll try and grab the bathroom before the hen club has another convention."
He grabbed a towel and made for the door. Pausing, he turned and looked around the room.
"Why don't you carry on with the good work? This is your home now, baby, so let's have some indication of the much-vaunted woman's touch. Change whatever you wish. Including the record. I've got a few more to your taste mixed up in there somewhere."
He closed the door behind him, and Jodie was alone for the first time since her precipitous flight from her parents' home.
She looked around the room with a proprietary attitude. As Dick said, it was her place now, and heaven knew that there was a lot could be done with it.
But first she had better get dressed and act the proper housewife. Standing stark naked as she was, in a man's apartment, was not her idea of what a young, well-brought-up woman should be doing in the middle of the afternoon.
She opened her hastily packed case and spilled the contents out onto the bed. They were all rather junior college and miniskirtish. Oh well, she thought. I may as well make the best of it. It isn't what you wear that matters, but what you really are inside.
Jerry had pointed that out to her earlier.
She selected a suede leather miniskirt with a fashionable chain belt. Rummaging around, she found that she had an off-white knitted sweater that matched up with it perfectly.
She raised her arms and struggled into the tight-fitting sweater. The springy material clung to her figure like another skin. She opened the closet and checked herself out in the full-length mirror behind the door.
The combination of the tan leather skirt blended well with the oyster color of the sweater. By contrast, her long blonde hair seemed paler, helping to emphasize the delicate transparency of her flawless skin.
She pirouetted happily. Yes, she looked good. Someone that she felt sure that her uncle would wish to be seen with. A trifle sexy, perhaps. But she knew that when she had had the opportunity to converse with the exciting new people she would meet, they would be so taken up with her mind that they would ignore the fact that her delightful little nipples were hard and eagerly pushing themselves against the thin fabric of her sweater. That the sexy swish of her short leather skirt would only remind people that she was, after all, an attractive young girl. But one with a mind and something worthwhile to contribute to the conversation.
She pulled a fresh pair of pantyhose up over her creamy thighs. They swished invitingly as her thighs brushed together in walking. She paused for a moment and deliberated whether to take them off. She decided against it.
This was her own life and people would have to take her as she was. If they were going to get bent out of shape by the tightness of her sweater and the fact that she rustled femininely as she moved-if they were only going to see her as a sex object- well, that was their misfortune. She had more to offer than a body and they were going to miss out on a lot.
Having disposed of the problem of her dress, she determined to tackle the bigger one of what to do about her new home. Dick had done his best to tidy up, but it was a man's tidying up at best.
Deciding to tackle the most important, more used things first, she automatically went over to the bed. It had at least been made and the ravages of last night's usage had been covered over.
Suspiciously, Jodie peeled back the straightened bedclothes. Just as she thought. Dick had only pulled the covers over the crumpled, cum-stained sheets. The pillowcase that she had used to mop up the oozing sperm from her much-used pussy was back in service and covering the pillow.
She pulled it off and peeled back the bedclothes to the foot of the bed. Dick had reversed them from top to bottom. The upper part of the sheet, where she had wiped herself after the first painful penetration, was now skulking at the bottom of the bed as if ashamed of the wanton way which she had sat on Dick's throbbing tool and slowly impaled her virginity on its throbbing length.
She pulled the sheet off in quick movement. Wonderingly, she traced the scarlet streaks of blood with her finger, a mute reminder that there was no going back-no retracing her steps along the road she had taken. Cry and regret it if she wished, but the fact was inescapable; she was no longer a child, an unknowing girl, but an adult woman. Her cherry had gone and her virginity was put away with her dolls and other childhood things.
And she was glad. This, she told herself, was living. It was up to her to make sure that she used every minute of her life to its best advantage. To learn something new always, and never close her mind to the challenges around her.
She rolled the sheet up, with its bloodstained story on the inside. That was all in the past now. Gone irretrievably.
She looked around the room, searching for some place where Dick might keep a supply of clean sheets. Unless they were stored elsewhere in the house, it looked as if he hadn't got any.
She poked and pried around in all the likely and unlikely places. Underneath the bed, out of sight, she found a cache of dirty shirts, rolled balls of evil-smelling socks, soiled sweaty tee-shirts and shorts. Wrinkling her nose, she lifted them out and threw them into a pile on the dirty bedsheets.
She heard Dick whistling as he left the bathroom and made his way down the corridor. His whistle died away as he stood framed in the doorway.
"Packing up to leave already? You'll look like an Irish immigrant with that bundle on your shoulder."
He adapted a bogus Irish accent and started to sing. "With me bundle on me shoulder, Faith there's no one could be bolder."
Jodie stifled the song by wrapping the sheet around his head. "I'm not leaving home, you idiot. I'm going to the laundromat. It looks as if you don't keep a well-stocked establishment."
Dick had slipped the towel from around him and was vigorously drying his back. His balls swayed from side to side in time with his rubbing arms.
Jodie watched, fascinated. Still watching his bouncing balls, she remarked, "Well hung, yes. But well-stocked, no."
Dick shook his tool at her as he crossed over to the bed. He rummaged among the pile of clothes that Jodie put out for the wash.
"Where the hell are my other jeans?" he inquired irritably.
"They're going to be washed," Jodie told him.
"Washed? Washed? Hell, I've only got two pair and neither of them is due for a wash for months yet. I've just got them broken in and feeling comfortable."
"Well, you'll have to run around naked for a while until they're clean, won't you?"
She pushed him backward onto the bed. Her hot mouth closed over the limp flesh of his penis.
"What the devil are you doing now? I've just given that a wash. You can't take it to the laundromat with you," Dick bellowed, pulling at her head with his hands.
Jodie let his prick escape with a wet, moist sound. "Just saying goodbye for a little while. See you soon, darling."
She swung the knotted sheet of washing over her shoulder and turned for the door.
"By the way," she asked as she left, "where the hell is the nearest laundromat?"
Resignedly, Dick gave her directions before reaching for a book. His hand rooted among the pile beside the bed and selected one at random.
His face was glued to the pages whilst his hand slipped down to grasp the hardness of his erect dong. He squeezed at the solid flesh, sending a tingle of desire racing through his loins. The moistness of Jodie's mouth reminded him that there was no longer any need for him to beat his meat in solitude.
Jodie would be home shortly and she would do it for him. He abandoned himself to the fascinating book, content to give his prick an occasional jerk during the more explicit passages-just to keep it hard and ready to be plunged into the willing Jodie when she got back.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Jodie's step was light and jaunty as she turned in at the door of the glass and chrome laundromat. A few bored and uninteresting people sat and watched their clothes spin around endlessly in the dryers.
Ignoring them, she made her way over to one of the plastic-topped sorting tables and undid the knot holding her bundle together.
A middle-aged man brushed past her on his way to the coffee machine. He glanced at Jodie's trim figure surreptitiously as he fumbled in his pocket for change.
Once again Jodie had unwittingly taken a position by the window, allowing the strong California sunlight to strike through the flimsy covering of her sweater as if it were made of cellophane.
The man gulped as he saw the outline of Jodie's thrusting tits straining against the thinness of the covering fabric. The man wet his lips and, keeping his eyes riveted on the clearly revealed cherries of her pink nipples, strode purposefully over to her. He stopped at her side, and she felt the brush of his trousers against her legs.
"Hi there," the stranger greeted her. "Sorry to disturb you, but I wonder if you can change a quarter for the coffee machine?"
Jodie looked at him doubtfully. Every coffee machine that she had ever used accepted dimes, nickels and quarters.
She looked carefully into his face. He seemed an alright sort of guy. Perhaps the machines were different in laundromats, she told herself.
His steely gray eyes seemed to beam benevolently at her. There was an honesty and wholesomeness about the clean cut of his face that made Jodie feel embarrassed of her previous doubts about him. By her hesitation, she was only showing her immaturity and ignorance. Adult people met and talked to each other all the time. She was no little girl who should be wary of taking candy from strange men.
She smiled back at the man warmly. "Why, surely," she beamed back. She rummaged in her purse for a moment before handing him a dime and a nickel.
"I'm afraid that I can't split your quarter, but here's fifteen cents. Be my guest."
The man seemed genuinely taken aback by her generosity. "That's very kind of you, but I'm afraid that I couldn't dream of taking all of your small change. I'll go out to one of the shops. They are bound to have change there." He added as an afterthought, "Perhaps you would allow me to get one for you. Do you take cream and sugar?"
Though the man's tone was affable, Jody felt that she had mishandled the situation and hurt him somehow. She tried to be extra nice to him as she accepted.
"That's very kind of you. I'd love one. Lots of cream and lots of sugar, please."
The man ran his glance over her figure unashamedly.
"With a beautiful young body like yours, you don't have to bother about dieting. I can see that only too plainly."
Jodie subconsciously drew herself up to her full height and pushed her bosom forward. The man noted her reaction with approval. She looked like a chick you could suggest things to. All kinds of things.
"Don't you go away, now," he told her. "I'll be right back with two coffees. There was a smirk on his face as he turned away from her. He'd be giving her more than cups of coffee shortly, or his name wasn't Alec Smart.
Jodie was still standing at the bench sorting out her wash when he returned. She flashed him a quick smile as he pumped the money into the coffee machine.
Placing one cup beside her, he resumed his interrupted conversation. "You're new around here, aren't you?" he questioned her. "I don't remember seeing you in here before."
Jodie adopted what she hoped was a mature, matter-of-fact tone as she answered. "Yes, as a matter of fact, I'm staying with my... er... uncle for a little while."
The man looked down at the washing she had spread before her. The cum-matted blood-stained sheets stared back at him.
"Your, er, uncle, you say."
"Yes," Jodie assured him. "My father's brother."
She followed the direction of his eyes and hurriedly pushed the sheet out of sight. Despite all of her newfound poise and maturity, she could feel the hot blush flooding her cheeks.
The man seemed to take it in his stride as his eyes met hers. "I wish that I had an obliging niece like you. What a happy family yours must be."
He pulled a packet of cigarettes from his pocket and lit one slowly. His eyes bored into her from behind a cloud of smoke.
"What's his secret, this uncle of yours? What does he do for a living?"
Jodie hesitated for a moment. "Would you believe that I really don't know? He's a sort of student, I think."
The man inhaled deeply on his cigarette, blowing the smoke out into Jodie's upturned face.
"Is he short of bread? Need a little cash now and then?"
Remembering that Dick didn't even seem to have a change of sheets, Jodie answered truthfully.
"Yes, I suppose that he is a little strapped. Why?"
The man shrugged indifferently, then drew a card out of his pocket. "I might be able to put a little something in both your ways. A little cash for a little pleasant work."
Jodie took the proffered card and read the inscription.
Alec Smart-Producer-Eros Films Inc.-Hollywood Way-Hollywood.
Her face underwent a transformation. "You mean to say that you are a film producer? Oh, how lovely. It must be an interesting job."
All the stories that she had ever heard about young girls being discovered through chance meetings like this flooded through her dazzled mind.
"What sort of films do you make?" she inquired breathlessly.
Alec took his time in answering. It was almost as if he were searching for the right words.
"Most kinds. Whatever's right at the moment. Mostly skin flicks now, for the art houses."
He eyed her speculatively. "Might find something for you. But flesh we've got. What we want now are writers. Used to have a good one. Kid from U.C.L.A. Graduated though and has gone into advertising. Great loss to the industry. Fine writer."
An idea dawned upon Jodie. "My uncle is a writer. Poetry mostly, but I'd love you to meet him. Maybe he could help you?"
Her brain raced ahead of her. Images of her and Dick with the jet set at Acapulco attending premieres at Cannes, Oscar nominations and awards, money... She unconsciously rubbed herself against Alec in an attempt to influence him.
"There's good money in writing film scripts isn't there? How much do you pay?"
Alec's eyes veiled over evasively. "You his agent or something?"
He recovered his normal suavity quickly. Any mention of money was like a suggestion of having a tooth pulled to Alec. But there might be something to be got from this chick and her sperm-spilling uncle. If uncle he was. He'd play it by ear and see what the percentage was.
His manner was as benevolent as that of a car salesman as he continued. "Why don't we all get together and have a conference? Run it up the flagpole and see how it flutters?"
Jodie rubbed one foot across the other excitedly. "Oh, could we? When? Where? At your office?"
Alec froze for a second. "Well... er... I've got the decorators in at the moment. Got to keep the image up for the backers, you know."
Jodie looked at him, impressed. This was one of the things she loved about Hollywood. You met all kinds of important as well as way-out people here. Determined that he would not lose contact with them, she made a hesitant suggestion.
"Perhaps you'd like to come around for a drink and talk things over with my uncle, Mr. Hamilton. We'd love to have you."
Alec put up a show of running his mind over his crowded engagement schedule. He hesitated for the count of fifteen before he replied. His voice was authoritative, as if he had come to a big decision.
"Okay. Why the hell not? It's a long time since I took time off to meet nice young people. How about now?"
Jodie couldn't believe her luck, imagining as she did that all sorts of important clients, Richard Burton, Peter O'Toole, and people like that had been dropped in her favor.
Then she remembered the mess that the house was in. Christ, she couldn't let an influential producer see that they lived like pigs. Perhaps Cynthia would help her set the stage for this momentous meeting.
Her voice was apologetic as she answered him. "Not right now. I'm afraid that's impossible."
She cast around for an excuse, then remembered one of her father's. "Business, you know. Conferences and things. Tonight, though," she added eagerly. "Yes, tonight. We only live around the corner. Come any time. Here, I'll give you the address."
She rummaged through her purse and found an old envelope and the stub of a pencil. Alec took the proffered directions, then with a last, lingering look at Jodie's trim figure excused himself.
"Well, I think my things are dry now. Housekeeper's day off, you know. Goes back home to her place in Pasadena for the weekend."
He collected his things out of the drier and bundled them up. Drawing his rather paunchy stomach in with an effort, he smiled at her again and walked out of the door.
Once outside, he let himself sag thankfully. Checking to see whether he was still visible from the window of the laundromat, he slid behind the wheel of his '61 Rambler.
This, he told himself, was going to be a pushover. If the uncle was anything like the chick, he could talk them into anything. He'd got a couple of cheap stars for Blow, Baby, Blow. With luck, he'd have the uncle not only a stud, but script writer as well.
He nodded to himself, pleased with the chance meeting. It was about time his luck changed.
He turned the ignition switch to start and pumped the gas pedal furiously. The motor spun, coughed, and spun again.
"Start, you son of a bitch, start," Alec swore at it intently, trying to threaten the motor into life with the urgency of his voice. A lucky meeting of spark and compression happened within the greasy bowels of the Rambler, and the engine shuddered into gasping life. A dense cloud of blue smoke oozed out of the tailpipe as Alec let in the clutch and nursed the car away from the curb. Circling the block, he pulled up in front of a cheap apartment building. Holding the bundle of washing in front of him, he attempted to bury his head in its concealing depths.
The door to the manager's apartment was ajar as he drew alongside it. He hesitated for a second, then, as if he had suddenly remembered something left in the car, he swung on his heel and started to walk away quickly.
"Oh, Mr. Smart." The sudden shout stopped him abruptly in his tracks as a large, overbearing woman appeared in the door opening.
She crossed her large fleshy arms across her ample bosom and looked him up and down. Her eyes took in the tan suede shoes and travelled up the plaid checked jeans with their fashionable flared bottoms. Her eyes twinkled a little as they rested on the tight bulging crotch.
She touched her over-red lips with her tongue, as if in anticipation of some well-remembered treat.
Alec shifted his feet uncomfortably. "Uh... hello, Mrs. Grimes. I was just looking for you."
She allowed her eyes to finish their scrutiny, ignoring his obvious discomfort. In turn she inspected the chrome-yellow tailored shirt with the bright mauve brass-ringed cravat at the open neckline. Her eyes flickered past his nervous Adam's apple and eventually came to rest on his perspiring face.
"So you were looking for me, were you?"
Alec nodded his head dumbly.
"Since when have I been living in the parking lot?" she inquired cautiously.
A hunted look spread across Alec's face. He hunted feverishly for an excuse. "I couldn't remember if I'd locked the car up," he announced.
"Don't worry," Mrs. Grimes said reassuringly. "The used car thieves aren't that desperate yet. It will be quite safe where it is."
Realizing the impossibility of delaying the inevitable, Alec motioned to the open door behind his questioner.
"Should we go inside, my dear?" He eyed the line of apartment doors stretching away along the length of the corridor. In his haunted imagination, an accusing head might appear in one of the doorways at any moment and witness the depths to which the great Alec Smart, film producer, had sunk. And all for a lousy two hundred ten dollars, to pay two months, goddamned rent on his pad.
His landlady sensed his mounting indignation and, reaching out, seized his arm, dragging him inside before his reluctance could harden into open rebellion.
He kicked the door shut with a little quick footwork as he was yanked over the threshold. He made a quick survey of the room, his eyes searching for possible spectators of his forthcoming degradation.
Reassured, he placed the protective shield of his laundry bundle on a chair and smiled ingratiatingly at Mrs. Grimes. He appeared naked and defenseless, parted from the security of his protective bundle of washing. It was like seeing a turtle without the protective armor of its shell.
Wordlessly Mrs. Grimes reached out and undid the large brass buckle of his thick leather belt. There was a slight metallic hiss as his zipper was undone, then his pants wrinkled around his ankles. The pallor of his white legs helped to heighten the illusion of him being a defenseless shell-less turtle.
Mrs. Grimes pointed at his feet and made a quick jerking upward movement with her outstretched finger, like an animal trainer. Obediently Alec stepped, one foot at a time, out of his concertina'd trouser legs.
The commanding finger rose, pointed at his lowered boxer shorts. The finger jerked once more, this time in a downward direction, and the concealing shorts obediently went the same way as his checkered trousers.
A hungry moan broke from the fleshy lips of his landlady as she fell heavily to her knees in front of him. A white fringe of spittle formed around the smudged lipstick of her trembling, slack mouth.
Reaching up, she fumbled with the buttons of his shirt. Alec shrugged his shoulders resignedly, allowing the yellow shirt to be peeled from him like a banana skin. Naked now, except for his mauve cravat, he stood in front of the huge, dominant figure that knelt before him. Her kneeling position was not one of submission, but reminiscent of a female praying mantis, crouched ready to devour her spent and exhausted mate. The red-rimmed mouth opened cavernously and sought out the wrinkled folds of his limp, hanging penis, he shuddered involuntarily as the wet warm lips encompassed the sensitive head of his glans. The tongue caught and found its target and began to flicker wickedly around his dong. In spite of himself, Alec began to surrender to the insistent stimulation of his member and reached out to press the prick-engulfing head of his landlady closer to him. His knees began to tremble with the effort of standing and instinctively he clutched at his landlady's head for support.
The hard plastic of her curlers dug into the palms of his hands, making him wince with discomfort. Inexorably, the hungry mouth chewed on and on.
A bright pink line of smudged lipstick transferred itself from the lips of his ravisher and formed a ring around the base of his half-hard staff. It was a sort of high watermark, registering the ebb and flow of his landlady's drooling mouth along the length of his captive chopper.
She looked up at him, an abandoned leer creasing her puffed face. Easing his penis partly out of her mouth, she mumbled contentedly. "Two months owing at a hundred and five each. It'll take all night for you to get out of arrears. Feed it to me, Alec baby. Make me happy and I might even forget the utilities."
The import of her words slowly dawned upon the captive Alec. If he had to stay here all night trying to satisfy this middle-aged nymphomaniac, he'd miss the appointment he had made with that braless broad and her incestuous uncle. Wow... he didn't want to miss out on that scene. Particularly for this slobbering hunk of flesh that was giving him a head job right now.
As if impassioned beyond all bearing, he managed to grunt a few words of burning desire and started to pump his prick faster into the gobbling mouth of his still-mumbling landlady.
She clamped her jaws shut around the fleshy intruder. A cry of pain broke from the man above her. "Oy kovoltz. The teeth... you'll ruin me." He extricated his throbbing dong from in between the ivory dentures of the kneeling woman. She hung her head apologetically.
"It's your own fault," she admonished him. "You mad passionate boy. You forced me to submit to you before I had time to take my false teeth out."
Suiting her deeds to her words, she put her hands up to her mouth and loosened her dentures. They came away from her gums with an artificial, clicking sound. Reaching behind her, she placed them carefully on a low coffee table where they smiled up at Alec amusedly.
His landlady's voice diverted his attention away from the grinning example of orthodontic achievement. "Feed it to me, lover. I'm ready now."
Alec looked down at her wrinkled face from which even the liberal application of cosmetics could not erase the passage of time. The full, over-red lips were drawn back in what would have been an enticing manner thirty years ago. The pink, toothless gums gnashed horrifyingly.
He felt his half-hard prick begin to wilt, losing the little muscle that he had been able to summon up during the encounter. Grasping the rapidly softening flesh of his penis, he slid it into the open mouth before its reluctance could be commented on.
Old and ugly as his landlady was, she had learned to suck a cock way back in the twenties and had had plenty of practice since then.
Alec felt his tool start to swell and shudder into life beneath the hot-lipped ministrations of the kneeling woman. His balls began to tighten and the familiar pre-ejacular tingle began to race up his legs and into the pit of his heaving stomach. The convulsive jerking of his ass as he slammed his near-spouting prick into her face warned the landlady of his coming climax. She pushed her hands into his groin and slid her head off his now-firm prick.
"Not now you don't, Mr. Smart ass. I want my money's worth first if it takes all night to get it."
Alec realized that he was going to have to deliver or else spend the night with the old bag. He bent over the brassy blonde head and ran his fingers caressingly though the brittle hair. A mousy, nondescript brown showed at the roots.
"I can't help it, honey," he assured her. "I get so goddamned passionate and carried away when you're near me."
He nodded toward a door at the other end of the room. "Let's go to bed and make ourselves comfortable, should we, huh?"
The rundown blonde eased herself ponderously to her feet and waddled eagerly in the direction of the bedroom. Alec draped his shirt over the grinning set of false teeth on the table and followed her.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Mrs. Grimes stood waiting for him in the middle of the over-furnished bedroom. Her pudgy hands were stretched behind her back as she fumbled unsuccessfully with the zipper of her dress. In a futile attempt to be coy and girlish, she simpered at him and offered him her back to unzip.
Alec's half-hard prick swayed pendulously as he crossed the room toward her. Hoping to stimulate it into some semblance of life, he let it rub against the fabric of her dress as her zipper eased open.
Feeling the heat of his tool against her, she rubbed her overweight arse on his dong as she slipped the tentlike folds of her dress over her head.
Alec gulped as she turned to face him. That he should come to this. He lowered his scrutiny from the old, wrinkled face with its pathetic trowelled-on cosmetics. A sagging fold of flesh hung under her chin and seemed to drip over the hollows of her neck. The layers of lardlike fat flowed down her body like congealed grease. Her huge bust that billowed out from under the concealment of her clothes now lay hanging from her chest like two bolsters.
As she wriggled herself up closer to him, he could smell her wet, eager twat. A feeling of nausea flooded through Alec's stomach like a douche of cold water. He gagged, swallowed, and gagged again.
Mrs. Grimes looked at him suspiciously. "What's the matter with you, honey?"
Despite the endearment, her voice was cold and ready for an argument.
Alec looked at her pathetically. "Must be something I ate. I feel sick to my stomach."
Mrs. Grimes was unsympathetic. "Turn your head if you're going to throw up, but start showing some action. Either that or pay up the rent you owe me..."
"Alright, alright. Get me a Turns or something, will you? Nervous indigestion. Got a big deal on ice. Stand to make a bundle if the leading lady doesn't cop out on me."
The landlady was at the bathroom cabinet and back with the indigestion tablets before he had finished talking. Pouring a liberal dose into the palm of his hand, he transferred them to his mouth and threw his head back to swallow them. The bed squeaked as Mrs. Grimes threw herself abandonedly amongst the unmade sheets.
"Come and get me, big daddy. I'm all yours."
There was dignity in the resignation of Alec's walk across the room toward the scene of his coming endeavor. The eyes that looked at her out of a haggard face were those of a French aristocrat surveying the unsympathetic proletariat as he was being led to the guillotine. The mercenary Mrs. Grimes ignored the performance and, like Shylock, demanded her pound of flesh. Or rather his limp six inches of prick.
The bed squeaked again as Alec cautiously lowered his unwilling body onto it. He knelt over Mrs. Grimes and tried one last despairing effort.
"I was telling you about this big deal I've got coming up," he began hesitantly. "Well, I stand to make a bundle. I could pay up the rent I owe you, and maybe a little off next month's as well. It's practically in..."
Mrs. Grimes voice was hoarse with passion and barely controlled lust as she cut him off in mid-sentence. "Like hell you will. Money I've got. It's cock I'm short of. Since Mr. Grimes died. God rest his soul."
She turned the whites of her eyes piteously up to the ceiling for a moment before continuing.
"Since my late husband passed away, I've never had a steady supply of dick. Having you in the building has been a Godsend. We've got this little arrangement worked out. When you can't pay, you screw. So stop talking and start acting. Make with the joystick, feller."
Alec fell onto the bed defeated, his body unprotected and limp in complete surrender. In spite of her bulk, Mrs. Grimes was on top of him in a flash, her wet mouth raining kisses on him as she ferreted between his legs for his deflated dong.
With a cry of triumph, she fished it out and started to stroke it into some semblance of life. There was very little reaction and her disappointment gave a sharp edge to her words.
"I told you that I want satisfaction. If you have to work at it all night, I'm still going to have it."
Alec patted her free hand. "I know it looks as if I don't want to screw you, but it's something else. Something much deeper."
Mrs. Grimes still kept on massaging his prick as she looked at him questioningly.
"Like what?" was her uncompromising reply.
"Like I think too much of you." Even to himself, his voice sounded unconvincing. He tried it in a lower, more dramatic key.
"Mrs. Grimes... er... may I call you Pamela?"
Receiving a nod from the woman towering over him, he went on more hopefully. "You see, in my business, motion pictures, I have always thought of sex as being something-how can I say it-well, sort of animal. Among all the screwing that goes on, I have always had the hope, the dream, that somewhere there was a woman. A sweet, adorable woman that I could love for herself alone. Someone whom I could respect and... well... love. A woman whose mind worked on a higher plane than those sex-crazed starlets that have only one thing to offer... a beautiful body."
Mrs. Grimes' hand was slowing down a little in its monotonous jerking of his limp meat. Sensing her interest, Alec put a little more into his performance.
"In you, dear lady, I think I have found that dream, that ideal for which all men seek. It's your mind. The aura of sacred womanhood that surrounds you that prevents me from desiring you physically."
Her hand had stopped working on his tool. Seizing the opportunity, Alec pressed it to his lips fervently in a manner reminiscent of the late Valentino. His paramour's suspicions were not yet completely removed.
"You having me on?" she questioned him.
Holding onto her hand so as she couldn't get at his rod again, Alec slipped off the bed until he was kneeling beside it like a Victorian suitor.
"Of course not, my dear." He raised Mrs. Grimes' large hand up to place it on his heart.
"Feel the pounding of my heart. It beats with emotion for you."
Mrs. Grimes' hand crept up past his offered heart and grabbed him by the purple cravat. Relentlessly she pulled his head down until their faces were inches from each other.
"If you're bullshitting me, I'll have your goddamned guts for garters. Understand?"
Alec nodded dumbly, afraid of the sleeping beast that he seemed to have aroused in his land lady. She let go of his neckerchief, allowing Alec to gulp in a long rasping breath of air.
"Get your things packed and move them down here." She motioned around the apartment. "There's more than enough room for us both. What's more, I'm not letting you out of my sight until I can get you before a justice of the peace."
With a sinking feeling in his guts, Alec realized that he had overplayed his part. The performance that he had given to escape from spending one night with this aging nymphomaniac had been a little too convincing. Now it looked as if he had got her for life, instead.
He was going to have to think of something, find a key that would unlock the shackles that he could already feel closing about his freedom. He thought frantically for a moment, then, fixing a look of outraged virtue on his face like a mask, he spoke urgently, his words tumbling out in his eagerness to convince her.
"What? Move in here with you? It's more than I dared hope for. But then, I couldn't, could I? Think of your good name. Think of what the other tenants would say?"
He looked at her for signs of her weakening. "I mean... er... we'd be living in sin. Shacking up together. No. I wouldn't let you compromise yourself in this manner. You are just too pure and sweet for me to do a thing like that to you. I mustn't take advantage of your good nature. Until we are married, I stay up in my own apartment. And now, dear sweet trusting Pamela, goodbye until we meet again. Very soon, I promise you."
He kissed her lightly on the forehead while feeling around on the floor with his free hand for his discarded trousers. His one thought was for escape. Once out of this love nest, he'd think of something to deter the old bag.
Holding his pants up in front of his sought-after dong, he backed toward the door. Once in the living room, the forced smile slipped from his face as he struggled into his pants. Fear made his fingers fumbled as he struggled with the zipper on his fly. He snatched his shirt off the coffee table, exposing the hideous snarl of the artificial teeth they were covering.
To his overwrought mind, words seemed to be hissing through the tightly closed porcelain teeth.
"Oh, Alec dear. Come back here. I want you."
The creak of bedsprings brought him back from his fear-induced fantasy. He hadn't escaped yet. Pamela was calling him from the bedroom.
Her voice rose a few octaves in its shrill demand. "Damn it. Come here when I call you."
Docilely he unzipped his pants and crossed over into the bedroom. Her large pink body was reclining languorously on the bed.
"Come and talk to me, honey. Tell me more about how you feel about me."
She reached across to the bedside table and rummaged around in a large box of chocolates. Selecting a soft center, she popped it into her mouth and settled back among the pillows.
"This is so romantic. I could listen to you all night. Tell me about your search for your dream girl."
The wheels spun around in Alec's mind. Talk to me all night, the old bag says. She'll be lucky when I've got a piece of cunt lined up like the broad at the laundromat. But how the hell to get off the hook?
To gain time, Alec picked up the plump, beringed hand as it crept into his lap, foiling her play for his weapon. He raised it to his lips again before the idea hit him.
Why thwart her desire to get fucked? If he could only satisfy her overactive libido, maybe he could get off the hook for a little while.
Reaching out for her other hand, he spread her arms wide apart, forcing her mountainous breasts into gigantic cushioning mounds. With a guttural cry of animal passion, he cast himself adrift on the billowing sea of her flesh.
"Pamela... Pamela, my love. It's hopeless. I cannot keep away from the ecstasy of your body. Give yourself to me. I must have you."
The breath whooshed from the open mouth of Mrs. Grimes as Alec's body landed on her. With an effort, she swallowed her half-eaten candy. As she struggled for her breath, Alec took advantage of her enforced silence and stuck one of her huge rubbery nipples in his mouth. He circled the dark brown areola with his tongue and listened to the heartbeats thudding away under his cushioned ear.
Success. The pounding of her heart showed him that she was enjoying it. Either that or she was choking to death on that damned soft-centered candy.
Holding onto the nipple with his teeth, he raised his head to check whether she was turning blue with asphyxiation. The relief flooded through him when he saw the pink flush of sexuality on her face.
With eye-closed intensity, she was moving her mouth in time with the probe of his nipple-tickling tongue. It was a pity to let all that jaw movement to go waste. Inching himself around upon his knees, Alec hunched his back up like a hairpin and presented his pecker against her working lips.
Without pausing or breaking the rhythm of her chewing movement, Mrs. Grimes opened her mouth and engulfed his prick. The recesses of her mouth felt sticky from the half-finished candy. He could feel her tongue glancing across his knob end as he searched out the cloying remains of the toffee in her cavities.
Obligingly Alec reached behind him and pushed his hand into the box of candy. Squeezing them between finger and thumb, he selected a soft center. Hooking his thumb into her mouth, he made a pouch of her cheeks and slipped the chocolate-coated sweet between her slack lips.
Mrs. Grimes made a soft, catlike sound of contentment, and Alec felt the lump of the candy as her tongue pushed it around and around his rapidly hardening prick.
His excited urethra dripped a clear lubricating secretion onto the pad of her tongue that was slowly churned up with the sickly sweetness of caramel. The greedy manner in which it was gulped down showed that it was to Mrs. Grimes' liking.
Satisfied with his progress so far, Alec humped his back up farther and made caterpillar movements, sending his now-hard six inches of prick sliding down his landlady's candy-coated throat.
The contortion required to keep his mouth attached to the plumb-sized nipple while slipping a length of cock into Mrs. Grimes's eager mouth was crippling Alec. He let the rubbery tits plop out of his sucking mouth and felt the relief in his back as he slid down the blubbery length of Mrs. Grimes' body to assume the sixty-nine position.
Anticipating his move, Mrs. Grimes had her legs spread and ready, allowing his head to slip between her ample thighs unimpeded.
Manfully, Alec took a deep breath like a deep-sea diver and buried his face in the fleshy folds of her hairy snatch. The taste was acrid, not at all like the sweet-smelling love pits of the eager young starlets that he had condemned as being overly young a few moments ago. But remembering what was at stake, Alec overcame his revulsion and drilled away like a trained poodle, a shudder of delight rumbled through the soggy body underneath him, and a flood of love juice oozed out of Mrs. Grimes' pulsating pussy. Unable to hold his breath any longer, Alec tried to withdraw his head to gulp a breath of fresh air. Two large capable hands held him captive.
In self-defense he drew the pod of her clitoris in between his teeth and bit hard.
A yelp of agony cut through Mrs. Grimes' moans of passion. For a moment, the strength went out of the grip on his head, and Alec extricated his wet face and surreptitiously wiped it on the crumpled bedsheet. Mrs. Grimes loosed the vacuum grip on his pecker as she tried to mouth a protest.
"Whaaa... ya... dooing to me."
The last words came out clearly as Alec pulled his gnawed dong from between her fleshy gums. Alec spun around on his knees and came feet to face with her.
"I can't hold out any longer. I must have you," he panted. "Now... surrender yourself to me."
Mrs. Grimes struggled with him. "No... I want more of that. You hurt me. Kiss it better."
They wrestled for a moment on the protesting bed. One detached part of him pictured the spectacle they were making. He felt like a butcher with a side of beef. But then, a side of beef doesn't try to get laid by the butcher.
She was on her hands and knees in front of him when Alec, catching her around her bulging waist with one arm, worked his cock into the easy target of her twat with his free hand. The struggling stopped instantly and Mrs. Grimes snuggled her buttocks into his lap.
It was like lowering his prick into a bucket of warm water. He moved his hips a couple of times, letting his member jerk back and forth along the slack length of her vaginal passage.
Mrs. Grimes peered at him from over her hunched shoulder. "Is it in yet?" she asked irritably.
Alec gave her a couple of reassuring prods with his weapon to demonstrate.
"It's not very big, is it?" Mrs. Grimes commented.
Alec bristled at the insult to his sexual endowments. "It's not me that's too small," he retorted. "It's you that's too god-damned big. I'll have to tie a plank across my ass. If I fall in this thing, I'm lost forever."
He tried a circular movement, attempting to rotate his tool so it would rub along the side of her cavernous cunt. It was no use. She was enormous. If he was going to shoot his load, he would have to put his hand inside and jerk himself off.
He reached underneath his swinging bullocks and fumbled among the hairy folds of her cunt lips. Spreading them apart with his thumb and baby finger, he diddled at her clitoris with his remaining three fingers.
The thing felt like a wet grape in the middle of a blanc mange. He swished around for a moment until he felt her tense up. Big as it was, there was still some feeling left in it.
Mrs. Grimes jerked convulsively and his prick fell out. Still twiddling her love button, he fumbled to replace his ineffectual prick. Finding the opening again, he thrust his wet, cunt-soaked member in impatiently.
A scream of delight burst from his landlady's throat and echoed around the room,
"OOOOOOh, that's good."
Surprisingly, her twat seemed to have tightened up in the few moments his prick had been out of it.
Alec commented on the miracle. "Say, you've got good muscle control. You've certainly tightened your snatch up. How did you do it?"
Mrs. Grimes's answer was short and to the point. "That's not my twat, you fool. That's my ass hole."
Alec's voice was full of contrition. "Gee, I'm sorry, hon. But I told you that I get carried away."
"Get carried away all you want," was the terse answer. "But leave your prick where it is. I like it. I like it. Keep slipping it to me and you'll never have to worry about paying rent again ever."
Alec nodded happily. If this was how she wanted it, it suited him fine. At least this way he could feel something wrapped around his dong, even if it was only her intestines.
He closed his eyes as he worked his prick in and out of her shit chute. The clammy walls of her bowels gripped him firmly. On the end of the withdrawal stroke, he could feel the relative tightness of her sphincter muscle grabbing at the helmeted head of his tool.
With a little bit of imagination, especially with his eyes shut, he could pretend he was screwing the tight virginal twat of some aspiring starlet on the front office casting couch of one of the major studios. A lifetime ambition of his. But still, he couldn't complain. Even casting skin flicks had its moments. His memory jogged him into further frenzied effort. The sooner this old bag got her rocks off, the sooner he could follow up his lead on that young cunt he'd met at the laundromat.
He renewed his manipulation of Mrs. Grimes' clitoris until she was shuddering underneath him like a nervous horse.
Reaching around her, he put his other hand on her pussy. Situated as he was behind her, he couldn't get his fingers into the opening of her cunt. He touched the base of his staff for a moment as it worked steadily away, in and out of her arsehole.
To his delight, he discovered that he could now get this thumb into her dripping slit and play with his balls at the same time. The sensation was electric. He alternated the jab of his thumb in time with the insertion of his rod. As they passed each other, he could feel the muscled hardness of his dong through the thin membrane of her anal partition.
The three-pronged assault was paying dividends. The steady, relentless massage of the clitoris, coupled with the jab of his thumb inside her vagina and the prod, prod, prod of his dick deep inside her bowels was sending Mrs. Grimes crazy. Her body swayed and shuddered under the combined onslaught. Her huge hanging tits swung like pendulums in time with his back-scuttling thrusts. The odor of sweaty sexual excitement filled the room as she grunted her pleasure.
"Uuuuugh... uuugh... uuugh... boy, that feels so good."
The words were erratic and staccato, spaced between the merciless thrusts of his shit-stirring tool.
Alec smiled complacently down at her heaving back. "It all goes to show," he told her. "It isn't the size of the prick... It's what you do with it that counts."
There was contrition in Mrs. Grimes' voice as she answered. "Uuuugh... uuugh... I guess I... uuugh... owe you... uuugh... an apology. Ouch, ooh. Do that again, Alec. I like it."
With a feat of acrobatic manipulation, Alec had managed to get his first two fingers as well as his thumb into her stretched and cavernous cunt and had worked them up her as far as the knuckles. It was the last gymnastic stunt that brought about such a satisfactory reaction.
He withdrew and regrouped his fingers. Bunching his fingers together around his thumb, he managed to make a pointed cone of his hand, and as he pressed hard he could feel the resultant mass forcing its way into the slack, oversized cunt hole of his landlady. He abandoned any attempt at finesse and brutally forced his fingers in farther until her twat was stretched and straining against the span of his palm.
Far from feeling any pain, Mrs. Grimes registered utter delight. "That's the stuff, lover. Now I can feel something happening."
Alec wriggled his fingers about inside her oversized sex pit and wondered what would happen to his wristwatch if he thrust his hand in any deeper.
A convulsive shudder rumbled through Mrs. Grimes and cut short his speculation.
She squeezed her hamlike thighs together in the paroxysm of her orgasm and Alec felt his knuckles crunch under the pressure. Her arsehole contracted and expanded rhythmically around his member until he felt his pecker begin to tingle preparatory to his gushing climax.
His semen spurted from him, lubricating the tightness of Mrs. Grimes's clenched shit shute, making the last few ecstatic thrusts pure heaven. As his pumping prick filled her lower bowel with its copious ejaculation, Alec heard the woman crow with satisfaction.
Her own orgasm flooded from her and ran wetly down Alec's fingers and pooled in his cupped hand. Mrs. Grimes collapsed forward on the bed, her buttocks cushioning the spent and exhausted Alec.
His sated dick was beginning to feel uncomfortable, captive in Mrs. Grimes' tightly clenched anus. He tapped her timidly on her broad back.
"Oh, Pamela, darling. Open up a little and let me out, will you?"
A deep, somnolent snore answered him.
"Christ, she's asleep already," he whispered incredulously.
Now was his chance. If only he could get his tool out of her, he could make his escape unnoticed.
Hooking his ankles against the inside of her legs, he slowly spread them apart. The fleshy mound underneath him didn't alter the tempo of her breathing. Grasping his limp prick by the base, he carefully started to pull it out by its root. The soft rubbery prick stretched out to a stringy six inches and then imperceptibly began to slip free from the hungry orifice of Mrs. Grimes' anus.
Carefully, to avoid disturbing her, Alec inched off the bed. The springs creaked and he froze for a second. Mrs. Grimes snuffled a little in her sleep, but did not awaken.
His feet touched the floor and Alec stood up. Taking up his much removed trousers, he tiptoed across the bedroom floor and out into the living room. His hands shook with exhaustion as he removed his vividly hued shirt from the coffee table. The teeth were still there, grimacing. Alec made a face back at them. A proverb from a fortune cookie came back to him. "He who laughs last, laughs longest," he told them with an air of superiority -Grin, you bastards, but I've won this trick.
He finished dressing as he went through the front door. Pausing for a moment, he debated whether to risk the noise of the latch if he closed the door behind him. He cautiously left it open.
"Serve the old bitch right if someone came in and raped her... but Christ help the poor son of a bitch that tried it," he added under his breath.
Minutes later, he was in the security of his own locked apartment. Stripping down to the skin, he threw his dirty, sex-saturated clothes in the laundry basket. The realization that he had left his clean laundry behind in his landlady's apartment cut short his feeling of escape. He had neither the time nor the desire to risk going back to retrieve it.
Let them stay where they were. He had plenty of gear in the closet, and as sure as God made little apples the old girl would grab him again before he managed to raise the cash for the rent. He'd pick his stuff up then. If he had enough strength to carry it to safety.
He allowed himself to wallow luxuriously under the hot, cleansing jets of the shower for a good fifteen minutes. He rinsed off with a quick burst of stinging cold water until he felt almost human again.
He walked into the bedroom as he rubbed himself vigorously with a towel. Sliding open the closet door, he paused for a moment and considered what he should wear for the appointment with the braless broad. It had to be mod, so that she wouldn't be alienated by the difference in their ages. On the other hand, it couldn't be too way-out as he had to create the impression of being a good solid citizen. Someone she could trust not to take advantage of her when he proposed a career in skin flicks.
He thought of her trim figure, outlined against the laundromat window. The way the proud flesh of her pert knockers thrust against the flimsy covering of her dress. The young, solid feel of her buttocks as he brushed against them. Mentally he compared her with the worn-out old hag that he had left sleeping and felt his cock twitching into hard readiness.
He pulled a pair of tight-fitting, flair-legged pants on and thrust his cock out of the way before he pulled up the zipper. He felt happy and proud of himself. Boy, if he could get a hard-on by just thinking about the broad, what was going to happen when he had her quite literally in the flesh? There was a jaunty spring to his step as he made his way, via the service door, to the parking lot and his car. Tonight, he felt, was going to be one of those worthwhile times.
CHAPTER NINE
Knowing the back streets of Hollywood as he did, it wasn't much of a hassle finding the address that the girl had scribbled down on the back of the envelope. Alec prudently parked his car around the corner of the block and walked back to the house. You couldn't be too careful on jaunts like these. The girl was probably under age for a start, and therefore jailbait. He didn't want any snoopy neighbor jotting down his license number. He knew that his antiquated Rambler didn't fit in with the image he was trying to create. Big-shot movie producers didn't drive old Ramblers.
He adjusted his cravat and instinctively checked his toupee as he turned in at the driveway. Almost automatically, he priced the cars parked beside the house. The Volkswagen van, with its multi-hued stripes and peace slogans, fitted into the picture, but the expensive Triumph sports car threw him.
He glanced into the open-topped car as he passed and noted the scarf and odds and ends of clutter strewn about the interior. The car had to belong to the girl. He smiled hopefully. Maybe there was money attached to her.
Once he managed to get involved with the kid, maybe he could put the bite on her folks. He had been right in his earlier feeling. This was going to be an alright experience. Fuck the daughter, fleece the father, and if luck was with him maybe get something out of the mother as well.
Unable to find the doorbell, he rapped impatiently on the poster-covered door. The sooner he got into the action, the better. As he waited for someone to appear, he turned around and shot a quick glance down the street.
Confidence flooded through him at the sight of the silent houses and closed indifferent curtains of the windows. The sun was setting rapidly and the red-streaked sky imparted a warm cozy feeling to the rundown, rather cheap neighborhood.
There was a sexy click of high heels along the corridor behind the closed door. Alec straightened himself up and pulled his stomach in as he turned to face the door.
It opened, and Cyn stood framed in the doorway.
Alec's prepared speech died away in his contracting throat. "Hello there, I'm... oh my God." The words faltered and stopped as he caught sight of Cyn's fantastic knockers.
She was dressed casually in a hot-pants outfit that seemed to accentuate the shape of her exciting figure. The melons of her breasts bulged out toward Alec, and it was with an effort that he stopped himself from reaching out to touch them. Her tight-fitting knit blouse was slit down to the navel, and a drawstring held it together across the valley of her cleavage.
Alec's eyes slid down the slopes and into the inviting valley. His mind followed and he imagined what it would be like to slide his prick along that inviting furrow.
He hardly heard her voice as Cyn addressed him. "Well, what's with you, feller?"
Not trusting himself to speak coherently, Alec pulled out his billfold and handed her his business card. The girl took it cautiously, half expecting him to be some door-to-door salesman.
She read the magic inscription and her attitude changed. "Well, hello there, Mr. Smart. So you're the producer that Jodie has been talking about. Come right in," she invited him with enthusiasm.
She stood aside and pressed herself against the door jamb. Never one to let an opportunity slip past, Alec rubbed against the girl's boobs as he squeezed by her. To his delight, far from withdrawing, the girl seemed to press herself against him. Alec stopped halfway through the door, his attempted smile a leer as he spoke to her.
"Hell, I'm sorry. Where's my manners." He made a little half bow and gestured for the girl to precede him along the corridor.
He purposely blocked the narrow passageway, forcing the girl to squeeze past him. His heart beat a little faster as his earlier suspicion was confirmed. This time he got the full treatment as the whole delicious length of her body ground into him as she wriggled past him.
Her eyes laughed at him as she spoke. "Not much room for two of us, is there?"
Again Alec's eyes were on her ample knockers as he answered.
"Especially if one of them is as well-stacked as you are."
He resumed his man-of-the-world, film producer's pose. "Say, you and I should get together sometime. I may have something for you."
The suspicion of a smile that had played about Cyn's mouth earlier had now become an outright laugh.
"Yeah, I'll bet." She looked down at his crotch. "I felt it as I went past you just now."
Alec nodded his approval of her frankness. "You and I talk the same language, kid. We're going to get along together. But apart from this-" His hand flicked across his bulging crotch. "I might find something for you in one of my productions. Interested?"
Cyn tabulated his clothes appraisingly. He looked as if he might be worth a buck or two.
"Sure," she told him, "I'll come over sometime and look at your etchings. We can talk about things then. Like money, for instance. How do I get in touch?"
Alec pointed at the card she still held in her hand. "Just call me any time. I'll lay something on.
Satisfied, the girl walked ahead of him down the corridor. Her hot pants were cut enticingly short, and as she walked the cuff rode up slightly on the thighs and revealed the curving beginning of her ass.
Alec drooled slightly as he followed close behind her. His attention being riveted on the fascinating sway of her buttocks, he nearly ran into her back as she came to a halt outside a door on the left of the corridor. The sound of voices and hard rock music came from within. The noise hit him like a blast of hot air as the girl threw the door open and went in ahead of him. Alec peered around uncertainly.
In the dim light from the red-shaded lamp, the room seemed to be unnecessarily full of young people. He would have preferred to have had this chick to himself. Either her or the other younger one that he had met earlier. He could distinguish a few whiskery faces of young men lurking in the dark corners of the room. But what the hell. He could hold his own with a couple of half-assed hippies anytime. It wouldn't be too much trouble separating these inexperienced youths from their broads.
In Alec's estimation, he was doing the girls a favor. What the hell had a couple of weirdoes got to offer that he hadn't got more of? And that his years of experience had taught him to use better as well. He realized that someone was talking to him. It was the young piece of cunt from the laundromat.
He looked at her closely. In comparison to the overblown voluptuous chick that had opened the door to him, this one looked young and innocent, virginal and ready for the knife. He bent his head toward her so that he could distinguish her words against the noise of the record player.
"Oh, Mr. Smart. I'm so glad you could make it. I was afraid a busy man like you had so many important engagements that you would have forgotten all about our meeting."
Alec smiled at her benignly. "Not at all, my dear. I told you, this afternoon that getting out and meeting charming young people like you is a pleasure that I don't often have."
He reached out and took her hand. "Now lead me around and introduce me to your friends."
With a childlike gesture, the girl left her hand in his and took him across the dim room.
"First of all, I want you to meet my uncle, Dick Hamilton. Remember, I told you all about him?"
Alec remembered alright. He also remembered the blood and semen stains on the sheets. The guy had to have something if he managed to snatch his niece's cherry. A thin, shadowy shape detached itself from the shadows and a long-fingered artist's hand stretched out toward him. A surprisingly pleasant voice spoke from out of a beard-fringed face.
"Hi there. I'm pleased to meet you. Jodie here told me that we might do some business together. I'll read you some of my stuff later if you like."
The young man looked at Alec in anticipation.-
Alec released his hand and took a step away. "Later, old man, later. The night's young. Let's enjoy ourselves, huh?"
He withdrew his eyes from the shapely figure of the girl in the hot-pants suit and flashed a beaming, conspiratorial smile upon the younger man. He felt the kid tugging at his hand again and leading him over to where the well-stacked broad was talking to another bearded weirdo. His guide reached up on tiptoe and whispered in his ear. Her breath was fresh and warm on his face as she spoke.
"Don't take my next two friends seriously. They're good fun and you shouldn't believe half of what they say."
She was almost apologetic in her manner as if she feared the effect they would have on an important man like himself. She seemed very young as she tried to recover her composure before she spoke again.
"By the way, Mr. Smart, in case you've forgotten, meeting a lot of people like you do, my name's Jodie. Remember? Jodie Hamilton. Now come and meet Jerry Mander and his friend, Cynthia."
The young man rose to greet him first. His handshake was painfully aggressive.
"So you're the captain of industry that is going to bring bread and affluence into our little circle?"
There was a slight edge of mockery to the voice that made Alec cautious in his reply.
"We'll get to that afterwards. If you kids have anything that's interesting, we'll try and work a price out when I've seen it."
With an effort, he tried to concentrate on the young man and keep his eyes off the voluptuous Cynthia.
"Though from what I've seen," he added, "I think that we can do business."
Cynthia's laugh was a low, enticing gurgle, deep down in her throat. Her hands reached up for him and pulled him down into a heap of cushions beside her.
"Mister, you haven't seen anything yet," she laughed at him. "The night's young. Wait until we get started."
Jodie had left them and was saying something to her uncle at the table by the fireplace. He fussed around for a moment with some bottles, mixing something in a large glass. He ambled sociably across the room and handed the glass to Alec.
"I won't ask you what will you have, because in this circle, there's no choice."
Alec took the proffered glass doubtfully. The glass he recognized as a giveaway from a gas station. What it contained was completely beyond him.
He sniffed at it suspiciously. Dick's voice tried to reassure him.
"It's quite safe. Try it. It's a sort of punch," he ended lamely.
Alec raised the glass to his lips. "I'll believe it. But where does it hit you?"
Jodie was watching his reaction with concern and seemed relieved that her guest was able to fall into the spirit of the party. She hovered around him solicitously.
"Actually, I watched Dick make it. All it is basically is apple cider."
Alec took a deep, trusting swallow and coughed as it reached his throat. He could hear Jerry's voice completing the catalogue in between his sputters.
"Then besides the cider there's a quart of vodka, some gin for flavor, a little nutmeg for piquancy and one or two other things which for the sake of delicacy we won't mention."
Manfully Alec took another sip. After the initial shock, it didn't taste so bad. He noticed that both the girls seemed to be drinking the same stuff. He felt vaguely reassured. Also hopeful. A few belts of this jungle juice should loosen up any inhibitions that they might be feeling. It might turn out to be an interesting evening.
He raised his glass encouragingly to the circle of young people around him. "Well, what are we waiting for? Drink up, everybody, and let's have another."
He downed the contents of his glass and was pleased to see that Jodie and Cynthia did the same.
"Say," he announced authoritatively, "this stuff's not bad at all."
He beckoned to Dick. "Same again all 'round. Fill 'em up, barkeeper. If we run out, rely on Alec Smart to supply the makings."
By the time he had reached his third drink, he was beginning to feel no pain. Dick and Jodie were sitting beside him while he told them long involved stories, mostly fictitious, of his career in motion pictures. It was gratifying to find such an attentive audience. Unfortunately, Alec was finding it hard to concentrate on the web he was weaving.
In front of him Cynthia and her boyfriend were dancing in the middle of the room to the music of the hi-fi. Seemingly totally oblivious to the effect she was having upon him, Cyn danced with a wild, unconscious abandon. Her arms high above her head, she shuddered and writhed in time to the erotic throbbing of the rock music. Her long black hair swung and flowed around her like a living thing as her superb body undulated a few feet away from Alec's bulging eyes.
The drawstring fastening of her deep-cut blouse had become untied and her huge breasts threatened to spill out from the scant covering that restrained them. Her partner, Jerry had slowly eased himself out of the dance and was moving his head in time with the music as he, too, watched the abandon of Cyn's performance.
He winked across at the watching Alec. "She's something else, isn't she?" he announced proudly. "Put a couple of drinks inside her and she thinks she's Isadora Duncan."
He watched the sinuous swaying of his partner for a critical moment before speaking again. He turned to Alec.
"Here, watch this lot." He raised his voice and shouted above the noise of the hi-fi to the room in general.
"Sin is going to give us a solo, aren't you, honey? Show everybody what dancing is all about."
The girl opened her dark, almond-shaped eyes as if she was coming out of a trance. Her expression was distant as if her mind was on a totally different plane.
Her smoldering eyes looked around the room and sought out Dick. "Put some groovy music on, lover. Like that wild stuff you played the last time. Remember?"
Dick stood up and walked over to the record player. Kneeling down, he rummaged amongst the records for a moment before selecting one.
"How does Scheherazade grab you? I think that's the one you mean."
The girl nodded enthusiastically and, before Alec could understand what was happening, she reached behind her and unfastened her shorts. The hiss of the hi-fi needle seemed to fill the small room as Alec watched the ripe figure of the girl shrug itself out of the scanty covering of her clothing.
She stood, poised and confident like the statue of some ancient goddess, as she waited for the music to start. Alec was no connoisseur of classical music, but was prepared to sit through any assault on his hearing for the sight of a girl like Cynthia dancing naked like this.
As the beginning, crashing bars of idealized eastern music flooded his senses, he knew Dick's choice had been a good one. The warm, gut-stirring strains of Rimsky-Korsakov's immortal music seemed to flow over the ripe flesh of the naked, waiting Cyn and electrify her with its pulsating rhythms. Her full curvaceous figure seemed to be transported back in time and she was now a sensuous houri dancing for the delight of her sultan master.
Alec gazed fascinated as the huge, free-hanging tits rose and fell in time to the swell of the surging melodies. Grasping her hands behind her head, she concentrated on her stomach muscles like a belly dancer. Her hips thrust themselves backward and forward in a grinding motion. The dark mass of her bushy pubic hair was like an audaciously cut bikini covering her half-seen snatch.
Jerry tilted the shade on the reading lamp until the bright swathe of illumination cut across her naked body like a knife. The glistening sweat stood out on the velvet-textured, olive-colored skin like gleaming jewels. The bright light mingled with the profusion of her black cunt hair until it shimmered, each hair living a glossy life of its own. Her hips swayed and ground continuously as Alec watched.
He licked his lips speculatively. Imagine that action, flat on a bed, with your prick thrust deep into that hairy twat.
A crash of cymbals erupted from the hi-fi and Alec managed to raise his eyes in time to see the responsive bounce of Cyn's swaying tits. Christ, if only he could get this on film, he'd make a fortune.
The girl was natural. She managed to go beyond the physical and merge with the intent of the soaring music. Not that he was knocking the physical. That she had... in plenty. And she certainly knew how to swing it around.
He sneaked a glance at the watching Jodie to see how she was taking it. He had already judged her to be a little out of her depth in her relationship to the older girl. A look of adoration had spread across Jodie's face as she watched her friend dance.
As Alec had guessed, Cyn's performance was something totally outside Jodie's limited range of previous experience. And she was lapping it up like a kitten with cream. It was fantastic, expressing an uninhibited abandon that Jodie envied. A sure, positive certainty in the power of her own sexuality, that to Jodie at least was a quality that denoted all the maturity that she felt she lacked.
Jodie watched her friend entranced, studying every movement, every sway and ripple of the lithe body. If only she too could dance and express herself so easily and fluently. As if able to read her friend's thoughts, the older girl stopped in front of Jodie and beckoned her with an indolent, snakelike movement of her arms, inviting her, almost commanding her to join in the wild expressionist giving of the dance.
Jodie watched the hypnotic, snakelike sinuosity of the inviting arms and felt the veneer of civilization peeling from her. The drinks that she had taken earlier ran through her veins like fire, urging her out to join her friend in the middle of the room. The bittersweet fantasia of the music surged about her like multi-hued molten lava, caressing her, touching her body and seeping through her senses until it possessed her mind completely.
Hurriedly, without a thought of the watching men around her, she tugged at the clothes that covered her eager body. The false artificiality of clothes created a barrier between her flesh and the erotic caress of the maddening music. Seconds later, she faced Cynthia, a blonde, slender nymph against the dark beauty of her partner.
Taking her time from the older girl, she surrendered herself to the emotion created by the swirling chords of music that vibrated through the room like some tangible heady incense. The slight suspicion of an inherited Nordic shyness that showed itself in her more restrained dancing made her appear even more desirable and defenseless. The two girls were complete opposites both mentally and physically, each complementing the delectability and difference of each other.
The blood pounded heavily in Alec's temples as he alternated his attention between the swaying, impassioned dancers. Topless joints he'd seen, but this was something else again. The possibility that before the night was out he would have one of these chicks in bed imparted a feeling of intimacy that he had never experienced watching some bored broad shake her boobs about in a beer joint.
All too soon, the lasting throbbing crescendo of the music died away and Alec realized that the impromptu skin show might come to an end.
He got to his feet and hurried over to the makeshift bar.
Quickly, he filled a couple of glasses with the potent punch and went up to the girls as they stood in the middle of the floor.
"Here, kids." He handed them both a brimming glass. "Drink this." He reached over and picked up his own glass, then raised it to them in a toast. "To a couple of the most interesting young ladies it has been my good fortune to meet."
Jodie looked at him shyly over the rim of her glass. Now the excitement of the music had died away, she was blushingly conscious of her naked, exposed body. He half turned and looked at Cyn. Far from being self-conscious, she seemed to revel in the display of her enticing figure. Watching Alec, eye to eye, she knew that sooner or later he would be forced to look away from her face and down at her massive knockers.
Temptingly, she tossed her head back to clear her long black hair from her face. Her oversized breasts swayed and jiggled with the movement. Alec's eyes wavered, taking in for one delightful moment the fascinating mounds of her tits. His eyes flashed over her like a darting snake, drawn in spite of himself to the magnet of her voluptuous sexuality.
But, quick as he was, Cyn had intercepted his look and her eyes were laughing at him when he looked up at her face again. Discomfited, Alec attempted to engage her in small talk and looked around the room desperately to see what other entertainment was being arranged.
Dick was going through his sizable selection of records while Jerry was busy arranging some books and notepaper on the table. He picked a Polaroid camera from among the pile, examined it and put it down.
Alec raised a questioning eyebrow at Cyn. "What gives with those two?" he asked her.
She glanced across the room. "If it is what I think it is, we're going to have a ball."
Before Alec could question her, Jerry's voice interrupted him. "Right... I think we have worked off some of our animal spirits."
He looked pointedly at Cyn, who made a face back at him. He ignored her and carried on with his speech.
"Now, we all, every one of us, have problems. Every so often we get together and help each other solve them."
He directed his next remark to Alec and Jodie, who were standing watching him with puzzled expressions on their faces.
"There's a couple of you who haven't been in on this before, so I'll put you in the picture."
His tone of voice became distant, as if he were addressing a class of students. "You will all have heard of group therapy. Right? Well there are different kinds. 'Our thing' is body contact. Half of modern man's problem is that he's up tight. Hung up by restriction. Prevented by conventional attitudes from expressing his feeling. Going his own route. His mind, his needs, his fears are hidden by the artificiality of clothes. The remedy is simple. We all take our clothes off, touch each other and talk. In exposing our bodies, we expose our minds."
Alec felt his prick stiffen at the prospect. He didn't go along with most of this psychological shit, but he was all for a group grope. The chance of getting his hands on the two chicks sounded like a sound scheme to the eager Alec. He realized that Jerry was still talking.
"... there will be some trace of inhibitions that may give off bad vibes. So what we'll do is turn the lights off. That way you can do your thing without any sense of shame."
He signalled to Dick at the record player. "The professor will give us some mood music whilst I talk you into the right frame of mind. Help relax you with a few suggestions."
He crossed the room and pressed the main light switch. The room seemed to be plunged into darkness until the eyes adjusted to the feeble glow of a small red lamp on the table.
Jerry cleared his throat. "By the way, when we really get into it, there will be a few bright flashes. Don't get bent out of shape. I'll be taking a few Polaroid shots that will come in handy later."
Alec chuckled to himself in the darkness. You're damned right they could, he thought. If I can get my hands on some of them, I can blackmail these nuts into anything. Another thought flashed into his mind. The expensive sports car in the drive. That spelled money. The young chick's old man wouldn't like pictures of his darling daughter going the rounds. Especially if she was sucking someone's cock. Like his, for instance. Get hold of a few pictures and he'd have the capital for a couple of low-budget productions that he'd had in mind for some time now.
Alec rubbed his hands together happily. Tonight was going to be worthwhile after all. Trust Alec Smart, he'd got the ability to mix business with pleasure. Again he realized that Jerry had been talking while he let his mind dwell on the possible profit of this little outing.
"... because it is recognized by most practitioners that unless there is concrete evidence to the contrary, the human mind tends to block out what it has been taught to reject. So in case you haven't the courage to admit what lurks inside you, the depths that your libido can sink to, all I've got to do is show you the prints and you are forced to come to terms with what you really are."
He chuckled almost to himself as if it were a source of pride to him. "And boy, some of the things I've discovered about myself have been way, way out."
As Jerry had been talking, his little circle of listeners had been making themselves comfortable. The two girls, who had already removed their clothes, were nestled among the strewn cushions on the floor. Behind them, Alec could just make out the form of Jodie's young uncle as he stepped out of his pants. Instinctively Alec sneaked a glance at his dong, just to see what the competition was. The younger man had him beaten by inches. Oh well, Alec consoled himself, it wasn't what you had, but the way you used it. He'd proven that already today with that horny old bitch of a landlady. A silent laugh shook the paunch of his stomach as he stepped out of his clothes. Boy, if Mrs. Grimes could see her prospective husband now, cavorting about in the nude with naked chicks, she'd call the whole thing off for sure.
He remembered the Polaroid pictures. There was a way out. He'd make sure that she did see him. Just leave a couple of the prints lying about in his room-she was always snooping about with her pass key to see what she could find. He'd make sure that she did find something. He breathed a sigh of relief. He was free. Free from the threat of marriage. Free from the necessity of having to hang out with that worn-out bag, and free to devote his time to such worthy pursuits as the one he was engaged in right now. Motioning the two girls to move over, he outmaneuvered the less aggressive Dick and sank down on the pillows between the two girls.
He tried to smile at them reassuringly and was grateful that the darkness of the room hid the satyr's leer that contorted his face. He looked away from them with an effort and found that Jerry was already stripped and stood facing them. The glow from the red lightbulb etched his spare, gaunt frame. With the shock of long hair hanging down to his shoulders and the unruly beard, he looked like a lost prophet bathed in blood.
His voice, when he spoke, fitted in with the picture that he presented. Low, insistent, but vibrant with conviction, he droned on and on. Bidding his listeners to relax, relax and let the heavy burden of care slip from them. To empty their minds of all pressing worries. Feel the peace seeping into them.
Despite his efforts to remain fully conscious and aware of the delights that he knew were to come, Alec found himself slipping over the edge of consciousness himself. With an effort, he half turned his head to see how the others were taking it.
Dick had slipped his arms around Jodie, who was sagging forward, her head nodding in time to the soporific, soothing melody that was trickling from the hi-fi's speakers. The young man's hand was unashamedly caressing the firm upthrust tits.
Alec watched, fascinated, as the fingers kneaded into the delectable handfuls. The skin was white where the hard fingers dug into the pink flesh.
Alec looked up at Dick. His eyes were closed as he listened to his friend's monotonously chanting voice. Casually, as if he had a cramp and was stretching himself, Alec straightened his back and allowed his hand to come to rest on Jodie's thigh.
The girl seemed oblivious to his touch. Slowly, imperceptibly, he let his hand wander along the smooth flesh of her legs until he had insinuated his questing fingers between her unresisting thighs. Her slim girlish legs were limp and compliant as he eased them farther apart until he was able to cup the delicious blonde-fringed honeypot in his sweating palm. As if it didn't belong to him and he was unaware of what he was doing, he gently massaged Jodie's crotch until he felt the warm wetness of her flowing cunt juices.
His wet fingers pressed against the love lips until they opened and let him into the pink delicacy of her cunt meat.
A low shuddering sigh broke form the lips of the girl. Dick's eyes were closed as he murmured to her. "There, honey, hush now. I'm not hurting you, am I?"
His hands halted in their steady massage of her tits as he waited for her answer.
Obliging, Dick resumed his caress of the young girl's knockers as Alec went back to his exploration of her sex crevice.
A deep animal groan reminded Alec of the other girl beside him on the cushions. Without halting the steady manipulation of Jodie's twat, he turned and looked at Cynthia.
She was lying back among the heaped pillows with a look of brutish contentment on her face. Her legs were spread wide apart and her fingers were lost in the dark hairy bush of her thighs. Spasmodic twitches showed that she had found her love button and was diddling it to her own private delight.
Alec took one hand away from Jodie and experimentally brushed it across the quivering mounds of Cyn's boobs.
She opened one dark, mascara'd eye and looked up at him. "You wanna join in, feller?"
She wriggled her arse a little until she was close to him. Her fantastic tits were within his reach and he lost no time in grabbing them with his spare hand.
Jerry's voice insinuated itself into their sex play. "We must merge. Join together. Get to know each other. Curl up closer. Intertwine. Become involved."
Like obedient sheep, the four figures in the group came closer together. Cyn broke the barrier of their restraints first as she pressed her curvaceous body close to the responsive Alec. Her arms reached up and wrapped themselves around his neck, pulling him down onto the cushions beside her.
Her hands ran through his hair, slid sensuously along his neck and down his shoulders to his chest. Her legs first crossed, then intertwined with his. The soles of her feet slid up and down his legs in a peculiarly sensuous way that had a stimulating effect upon the reclining man.
Cyn rolled her body across that of Alec until she was lying across him. He could feel the plump rounded contours of her fabulous figure squeezing themselves against him. She slid higher up until her large swinging tits were against his face.
Looking down at him, she moved her shoulders from side to side, causing the plum-sized nipples to brush across his eyes. Playfully she let them rest on the tip of his nose, running them along the bony ridge until the soft pink fruits hardened into hot points that she rubbed along his wet lips to cool.
Alec opened his mouth appreciatively and captured one of the jujubes as it brushed past. The soft tissue of her melon-sized knockers overflowed Alec's eager sucking mouth and rested heavily against his face. As he sucked, chasing her nipple with his tongue, she writhed and wriggled on his body like an eager puppy driving him into a frenzy of desire.
Her flesh seemed to flow over his with the intimacy of hot oil. His sharply functioning senses detected the almost imperceptible brush of flesh against flesh as the other couple did their thing beside him.
Struggling under the weight of the thrashing, wriggling Cyn, he inched toward Jodie and Dick. Cyn's waving arm fell across her friend's half-buried body. Her fingers explored the tangle of limbs that was Jodie and her uncle.
The two struggling couples merged in a hot, exquisite fusion of insatiable needs. Moans of complete abandon came from the writhing, interlocking bodies. Flesh slid eagerly across flesh, all inhibitions forgotten in the sensuous joy of the moment.
Alec was momentarily conscious of a blinding white flash. He licked hungrily at someone's rounded arse as it passed in front of his face. To hell with the kid, Jerry, and his pictures. Right now, Universal could come in with a production crew and he couldn't care less.
Someone was touching his head. Running fingers through the sweat-matted dark curls and stroking the thin, sparse center of his baldness.
Goddamn it, Alec swore to himself. I've lost my blasted toupee somewhere in the melee.
The hand rubbed around and around on his scalp, not worrying about the pink nakedness that Alec had tried to hide so painstakingly for years now.
He reached up and held the hand for a second. It belonged to Jodie's uncle, Dick. He squeezed it before he let go.
That the younger man, who should have been laughing at his baldness, should accept it without revulsion was a revelation to Alec. All his life he had been suspicious of people, ready to look for the slight, the veiled insult behind the words. And now, here he was, middle-aged, bald, and paunchy in the gut. Yet these young people had accepted him for what he was.
He shook the mood off himself. He must be getting soft in the head. Never give a sucker an even break. If the kids, with their nude therapy, wanted to take him as he was, they'd find out that he was one horny son of a bitch.
Their bodies had become an inseparable mass of moving, squirming flesh. The joint frenzy of their sexual stimulation spurred them on to even greater, more complete abandon. There was no thought of personalities or differentiation between the sexes of the participants. All the pent-up isolation, the unloved lonely years had melted away as each squirmed in rewarding closeness across, through and over the nameless bodies of the others. No longer was there any barrier of restraint or pretense between them. In the giving and receiving of fleshy sensation, they could identify with the needs and longings of each other.
Alec found a pleasant ambivalence in the sharply defined, ever-changing texture of the bodies that slid over him. The childlike, smooth simplicity of Jodie's slim form was somehow trusting and pure in its confident pressure. In complete contrast, the hairy masculinity of Dick's body, with its slightly acrid man-smell, brought no aversion to him.
He found that he was admiring the hard-muscled virility of the younger man. For a moment, Alec's hand touched Dick's tightly knotted stomach. His mind went back over the years to when he was young, full of piss and vinegar, with all the world to conquer. He must try and talk to the younger man later. Tell him of the pitfalls. The trap that he had fallen into.
A warm feeling of altruism flooded through Alec. A feeling of love for his fellow man. A desire to try and help them with the bitter lessons his extra years had given him. To give them the benefit of his hard-won knowledge instead of using it as a tool against them. They would benefit by him.
The comforting flow of brotherly love was turned off abruptly as Cynthia turned him on. Her curvaceous body replaced that of the young man and Alec's attitude returned to normal. As she insinuated herself across him, her open panting mouth traced the course of his limbs with moist eagerness. Tantalizingly, she varied the soft lick of her tongue with a teasing pain as her sharp teeth closed over his flesh. Biting until the pain was almost unbearable, she would sense the limit of his endurance and quickly smother the red furrow of her toothmarks with a soft lingering kiss or a long, healing lick of her tongue.
The alternating agony and ecstasy played upon Alec's eroticism until his balls ached with pounding need. His prick was a rampant, towering obstacle to her progress. He could feel her breath, hot and eager on his thighs, as she inched her way up his tingling body. Her long black hair brushed against his skin as she moved. Each sweep of her luxurious tresses sent a shivering electric shock through him. Her forehead nudged against the hardness of his bulging prick and a thin trace of his oozing fluid transferred itself onto her olive skin.
Her breath snorted for an instant against the wrinkled skin of his scrotum before she began to trace the length of his tool with her flickering tongue. Her tongue was a searing flick of heat as it reached the end of its travel. She poised open-mouthed over his dong, her breath pouring down it like waves of delight.
With agonizing, tantalizing slowness, she lowered her head until her full red lips had enclosed the fleshy head of his manhood. She took a deep sighing intake of breath before continuing her acceptance of his member. Without hesitation, she steadily lowered her head, allowing the dilated dong to slip unobstructed into her submissive mouth.
Alec felt his tool penetrating deeper and deeper into the cavity of her mouth, past her palate, sliding along the pad of her tongue until he felt the obstruction of her throat.
She swallowed without gagging until he was completely engulfed in her exulting mouth. He could feel his scrotum tighten as it brushed against her chin. Expertly she moved her supporting tongue along the underside of his responsive dong.
Alec writhed in indescribable transports of excitement. Still sending the electric pulses along his prick with her caressing tongue, she tightened her teeth around the base until a bittersweet pain met and clashed with the surging throbs of joy.
Alec had known good blow jobs before, but this was something else again. The alternating ecstasy and agony of the caressing tongue and sharp, pain-causing teeth did things to him that he thought he had lost years ago.
He reached out for her with his hands, trying to pull her arse toward him so that he could get at her snatch and eat her. To try and convey, via her twat, some of the delight he was experiencing. His searching hand traced the position of her undulating body. She seemed to be laying sideways across him, and try as he might he could not drag her over into the sixty-nine position.
He raised his head to investigate as another flashbulb exploded whitely. In the resultant clarity of the dazzling flash, he saw what was preventing him from getting his mouth around her quim.
Dick had beaten him to it and his head was lost under the soft mounds of her working arse. Young Jodie was attached to his other end and was ferreting around his distended tool with eye-closed concentration. Bent over double as she was, her smooth shapely buttocks were facing him, and in the second before the glare of the flash died away Alec could see the redness of her straining pussy invitingly illuminated.
Memorizing her position, Alec reached out for her in the dim glow of the red light. His fingers dug into the girlish softness of her slender legs as he pulled her down on top of him. He inched his shoulders over the floor a little to get himself comfortable before giving himself up to the delights of her young, nearly hairless slit.
She held herself tensely on her bent knees as if doubtful whether to continue. Alec raised his head a little and delicately licked the slight hollows between her vulva and inner thigh.
Alec sensed, rather than felt, her slight yielding. Gently he ran his appreciative tongue around the oval rim of her vagina.
Jodie's legs began to tremble. Alec's mind registered her growing acceptance. He allowed his tongue to move in a little closer and lick the fleshy lobes of her love lips.
Craftily he inched his head back to the comfort of the supporting floor. The girl followed his retreat with her now-interested twat. As Alec's head sank lower, lessening the pressure of his circling tongue on her slit, she compensated by bending her knees, allowing herself eventually to be crouched close over his eager face.
Alec congratulated himself on the success of his tender, tentative approach. Gently, so as not to alarm the girl or offend her still-strong sense of propriety, he eased the smooth lips of her labia major apart with his tongue and allowed the tip to stroke the pink folds of her inner lips. Again the girl showed a delighted response and nestled down farther onto his head, taking it under the warmth of her arse like a broody bird.
As Alec exhaled, his breath filtered through the light fuzz of her pubic hair, tickling her slightly and adding to her delight. Alec's persistent tongue was having a salutary effect upon Jodie's bottled-up repressions.
Frantically she searched around in the dimly lit tangle of flesh for some way to express her emotions. Her head was already resting in her uncle's lap and it was the work of a moment to find his erect tool with her searching mouth. As she closed her mouth around it, it seemed as if she was coming home after a long absence. Returning to something comforting and familiar after the unusual way-out experiences of the last hour.
She fastened onto Dick's penis as if in it she would find reassurance that she had not broken any code. Despite her doubts as to whether she should let Alec lick her stimulated love pit, she had to admit that she was enjoying it. One part of her mind kept flashing warnings of guilt to her confused mind. As if to work them off, she put everything she knew into the blow job she was giving her uncle.
Holding the base of his staff in her plump, girlish hands, she licked at the top with her warm moist tongue. It felt like some grownup, gristly popsicle. She imagined its blue-red helmetlike top sliding in and out of her sucking mouth.
It felt good and reassuring. She half hoped that Jerry would take a picture. She'd like to see how it looked. She played about for a while, trying different methods. She kept her tongue steady and slowly worked her head up and down, letting the pink underside of her lip trail along the fleshy intruder as she withdrew.
Dick's legs worked convulsively as her lips met the sensitive glans. Finding the point of greatest delight, she concentrated on it with a single-minded preoccupation. Her concentration on Dick's tangy tool was rudely shattered by Alec's probing tongue. She had been so busy sucking and giving out that she had almost blocked out the sensation of having her cunt licked. Taking her quietness for cooperation, Alec had abandoned his tantalizing exploration of her outer slit and had darted his tongue into the spicy recesses of her tender young twat. Alec pointed his tongue and the insertion into her tight vaginal canal galvanized the girl into a recognition of his presence.
She opened her mouth to express her delight, but Dick's tool slid farther down her throat and stifled her cry. All she could do was settle down and enjoy it.
Low moans and the half-heard lapping sound of sex surrounded her, telling her that she was not alone in her enjoyment. The jagged intensity of illuminating flashbulbs occasionally broke into her awareness.
Jerry had left his position behind the red-lit table and was walking around the tangled heaving mass of bodies seeking out angles and positions, registering the abandoned scene at his feet. His prick was hard and tense with sexual excitement. The sight of his friends indulging in frantic sex play at his suggestion brought out all the latent voyeur inside him.
He leaned over to brush Cynthia's long black hair out of the way so that he could get a close-up shot of the bald-headed creep's prick as it slid deep into his girl's hungry mouth.
Bending over, he aimed the camera along Alec's chest and got a low angle shot of his face, the tongue protruding grotesquely as it worked on Jodie's sleek slit. Jodie's tits caught his attention as he bent. The red light from the table etched the swinging flesh like some outlandish impressionist picture. He lay flat on the floor until he found the angle he wanted.
Jodie's pointed boobs formed two inverted arches, framing the delicate cut of her chin. A huge fleshy staff jabbed into the soft lines of the composition as Dick's tool disappeared into her mouth. Realizing that the girl was unrecognizable from this upside-down angle, he got to his knees and crawled around until he had her face in profile. And what a profile it was.
All the youth, the longings she felt were expressed in her closed-eyed concentration on the length of prick she was sucking on. The black, hairy grossness of Dick's weapon was strangely at variance with the fragile, virginal beauty of Jodie's angelic face.
Jerry checked to see if the flash was fully recharged on the Polaroid before he shot this one. It was the kind of thing he dug. A sort of willing sacrifice of a blonde ethereal virgin to the insistent slamming, battering might of man's sexuality. And by the smile on her face, she was enjoying it as well. Or maybe it was what was happening at the other end that caused the contented look on her happy face.
He took his picture and straightened up. He stood back a little so that he could get Alec into the frame. This way it looked even better. She was like a fragile white flower against the darker tones of the two men at either end of her.
To Jerry she represented the enigma of womanhood. The receiving and the giving. Taking totally and giving without qualification. But what thoughts went on behind the pretty facade of her face? He could dig her reactions now as she shuddered under the pleasant onslaught of the thrusting, insistent pricks at each end of her.
The beep of the Polaroid told him that another picture was developed and ready to be looked at. He peeled the backing off, taking care not to get the chemical gel on his fingers. It was bang on. A faithful recording of Jodie's perversions that didn't cop out on one single detail. He could hardly wait to get her reactions when he showed it to her later. He aimed the camera for a long shot, to get all of the writhing, mutually sucking mass in his lens. To Jerry's fevered imagination, the whole intertwined clutch of cocksucking, cunt-lapping frenzy looked like a fantastic baroque carving on an ancient Hindu temple.
The knowledge that he had suggested this, had created the atmosphere, that his will had made these people behave in such abandon, filled him with a surging sense of power. He felt superior, like a mythological god looking down on his created, struggling worshippers.
Putting the camera down, he stood towering over them threateningly. His rock-hard dong thrust out at an acute angle from his hairy thighs. A clear, sticky emission oozed from his throbbing knob end. He leaned over and wiped it along Jodie's arched back. A long shiny trail marked the peach bloom of her delicate skin.
Jerry's voice was cracked with power as he spoke to her nodding head. "Now I've christened you. Admitted you into our circle."
He glanced at the rest of the frenzied, indifferent bodies. Each one, Jodie included, was immersed in his own sensations, totally oblivious to what was happening. An idea burst into Jerry's mind. He'd show the bastards who was who. He'd anoint the goddamned lot of them. Shoot his wad over the whole strung-out bunch of them.
His hand closed over his erect dong and began to stroke it with a long, easy motion. He ran his eyes over the people on the floor beneath him. To his fired-up imagination, they seemed to be groveling at his feet. His hand became more active, concentrating now on the sensitive tip of his tool. His legs trembled as the stimulation mounted, making it difficult for him to remain upright.
His eyes, which had been drinking in every detail of the orgy beneath him, became glazed over and unseeing. He drifted off into a fantasy world of his own, the horizons bounded only by the steady friction of his hands on his jerking dong. The mounting exultation of his approaching climax swept through him and he opened his eyes to watch his sperm splattering in milky profusion over the indifferent bodies below him.
He laughed wildly. This was the living end. He was really turned on, approaching a condition of near-hysteria, drunk with the feeling of power that surged through him.
Reaching down in the red gloom, he searched for something to dry his drippy dong with. His hand came on something soft beside Alec's Overweight form. Unthinking, he picked it up and rubbed the remains of his sticky discharge of his prick.
He looked at it idly before he threw it back onto the floor. It was someone's hair piece.
He glanced around the group at his feet. Alec's head gleamed sweatily in the dim red light. He was still laughing crazily as the moans and shudders wracked the erotic scene beneath him.
He watched as one by one, within short seconds of each other, the participants climaxed and sank, played out and utterly spent, into the comfort of each other's enfolding arms. Alec walked over to the table and turned the reading light on. His friends rested in a grotesque tangle of limbs as Jerry sorted through the Polaroid prints, turning each one over and over in his hands like a miser gloating over his store of gold.
CHAPTER TEN
Jodie returned to consciousness and awareness slowly. The first things to intrude on her delicious drowsiness and indifference were the discomfort of her twisted body and the sour, fishy taste of sperm in her mouth.
The half-formed images of what had been happening drifted, distorted shadows in her sleepy confused mind. She could remember quite clearly sucking someone's cock. The muscular virility of its pounding intrusion into her mouth was very vivid and real to her.
She opened one eye cautiously. She was lying with her head cradled in someone's lap. A limp prick, still wet with her saliva, rested on its hairy couch a few inches from her face. Her feelings were mixed as she inspected it.
It looked like her uncle's tool, but she couldn't be certain. Though she felt that she would recognize the instrument that had made her into a woman, broken the membrane of her childhood forever, she had to admit that to her limited experience one prick looked very much like another.
She pushed at it gently with an inquiring finger. The yielding, deflated piece of flesh was snakelike as it allowed itself to be lifted and looked at.
Someone coughed, cleared his throat, and spoke to her out of the red gloom.
"Hi, doll. Boy, that was a way-out trip, wasn't it?"
Jodie let her head sink back gratefully on the hairy legs. It was her Uncle Dick's voice. It had been his cock that she had been so furiously licking during that wild, lovely expression of adult giving. Now everything was all right. She hadn't sinned against any code that she had laid down for herself and her first foray into the field of adult behavior had gone off well.
But there was something else nagging at her from the back of her young, narrow fund of knowledge. A long, deep, snorting sigh came from among the layers of bodies that were pressing against her. A warm pleasant feeling ran over her thighs and drifted up, wafting languorously among the curly down of her soft pubic hair.
With a start, she realized that it was the heat of someone's breath. A cold, guilty chill ousted the warm glow in her stomach as she remembered the abandoned, grateful way she had let someone thrust his head between her legs and eat her responsive snatch.
In spite of herself, she felt her quim start to moisten at the memory. In her imagination, she could still feel the ferreting, insistent tongue as it lapped at the dew of her rosebud. The way it had parted the flowerlike petals of her love lips and probed deep into the sweet orifices of her spicy twat.
And most of all she could remember all too plainly the way she had responded, thrusting her grinding hips down ever closer to the nameless face of her tender torturer.
The steady, stentorian breathing still flooded over her thighs and plump mound of Venus. She reached down, half fearing to discover who her nameless ravisher could be. Her hand touched the roughness of a man's whiskery face.
A small sense of relief crept over her. At least she hadn't submitted to the lesbian attentions of her new friend, Sin, before all the other people. That secret was still safe.
Jodie's fingers traced the outline of the man's sleeping face, fumbling for a moment on the full, fleshy lips, over the powerfully large nose, investigating the wiry curl of his hair behind the ears. Her hand inched upward and the profusion of hair thinned out to a baby-smooth scalp of utter baldness. Incredulously, she circled the pink scalp with her fingers. Her confused mind raced. With repulsion, she realized that the first thought that had flashed into her mind was of her father. With even greater alarm, she realized that the thought of having her father's head between her legs, supplicant and giving out such exquisite ministrations, was one that she was not totally adverse to.
Her mind raced frantically as she tried to figure it out. Was this why she had run away from home? Why she had fled like a frightened horse from the brute force and sexuality of her father's behavior? Was it because, deep down in her subconscious, she really wanted him? Wanted him to possess her, violate her? But in taking her physically to give to her all the love that he had denied her through the long lonely years of her childhood? It was all part of some fantastic deep-seated Oedipus complex. And the crazy thing about it all, the thing that made it all fit into place, was the fact that it seemed that they both had the same hang-ups. They just demonstrated them in different manners. That was all.
The unspoken social taboos against incest had made them overreact. Her father's mind had worked against itself. Instead of admitting his longings in tenderness, he had tried to ease his guilt feelings by making his daughter a thing of evil and beating her.
She admitted ruefully that she had not helped the situation by attempting to run away from it. A sense of relief helped her make a decision. She was grown up now. A woman who could approach a problem with mature courage and understanding. Running away would never solve anything. She would go back home and try to resolve the problem where it was at. She nodded her head and smiled at herself.
Opening her eyes, the first person she saw was a discomfited Alec, trying vainly to cover his scalp with a toupee. The carefully detailed hairpiece seemed matted with some gooey substance and strangely disheveled. Jodie sat up and stretched her slender, youthful arms out to him. Alec looked at her confusedly, holding his wig on with one hand.
Gently, she eased his clutching fingers away from the hairpiece, removed it, and kissed him lovingly on his hairless, embarrassed scalp.
"Thank you, Alec darling, for what you did. It was beautiful and made me realize something very important about myself."
Uncomprehendingly, Alec put as good a face on his confusion as he could. "Think nothing of it, kid. Any time I can help, just call on Alec Smart."
Alec remembered the delicious feast and the sweet pungency of her responsive slit.
"A little thing like that is always a pleasure. No trouble at all. Feel free any time. Just call me..."
His voice faded away into an incoherent mumble as he tried to figure out what the hell the kid was getting so goddamned thankful about. After all, he had only eaten her snatch. That could happen any time and was no big thing. So what the hell gave with all this dewy-eyed thank-you routine?
Jodie smiled a secret smile and stood up. The pure lines of her youthful body seemed to emerge from the tumbled lust-locked bodies around her like hope rising from the ruins of a shattered belief. Her hips swayed smoothly from side to side as she made her way across the room to the table in its center.
Jerry looked up at her approach. His eyes were on a level with the perfection of her still-bouncing breasts. She stood in front of him, consciously proud of her beauty, knowing that he was looking at her, not flinching under his scrutiny.
The trace of her smile still lingered at the corner of her mouth. The self-knowledge she had just acquired gave her a new poise that relegated her previous girlish uncertainty into the limbo of the past.
Jerry found her self-assurance disconcerting. His fingers still fidgeted with the Polaroid prints before him.
"What have you got there, Jerry?" Jodie's voice was cool and self-possessed as she bent over to look.
Jerry recovered his composure as he remembered the prints and the irrefutable evidence of his influence over this assured young woman. He remembered the sound as his sperm splattered softly over her bent back, trickling thickly along the peach bloom of her flesh.
His voice had regained a little of its customary authority as he spoke to her. "These? Oh, just a record of what you really are. An indication of the beast that hides behind that standoffish air of yours."
He turned the prints around and laid them face up before her like a card player with a full hand. Jodie's reaction was not what he had expected. Far from horror or remorse, she was examining the prints with an analytical interest.
The one that showed her contorted, pressing her crotch close to the bald-headed, eager Alec seemed to hold her attention most. The camera had caught the intensity of her need in every graphic detail. The whole posture of her tense, arched body led the eye downward toward the focal point of her insistent, clamoring cunt. Holding onto the incriminating print, Jodie thumbed through the remaining exposures until she found another of herself.
This was the one that Jerry had taken in close-up showed her vagina in brilliant color as Alec's tongue made the rounds of its pink and red convolutions. The print glowed with highlights as her juicy secretions mingled with her molester's saliva and gleamed crystal-clear against the well-defined details of her spread slit.
Jerry looked at her in anticipation. "Well, what do you say to that, then?"
Again Jodie's answer was the reverse of what he expected. "Oh, it's perfect," she crowed. "I love it. You've captured just what I felt."
Her finger traced the details of the photograph. "Look at the way the tongue merges with the pink here. It's perfect. It symbolizes the demands of man being accepted and assimilated by woman..."
She put the photo with the other in her hand and held them tight.
"And thank you, Jerry, darling, for taking them, and for letting me have them."
Jerry was nonplussed and could only shake his head. Taking it for agreement, Jodie smiled her thanks at him and went back to the group of people on the floor.
Slowly they were beginning to recover from the effects of their mass orgy. Cynthia was sitting up, her full breasts stretched and taut as she raised her arms up to her head. Her fingers were pulling at the cum-matted tangle of her long black hair.
She looked accusingly across at Jerry.
"Have you been up to your old tricks again, lover? Spraying me with love juice when I wasn't watching?"
She looked up at the puzzled Jodie. "The nut gets his rocks off like that. Beats his meat all over me when I'm asleep. Gives him a feeling of power or something."
She raised her eyebrows questioningly at the silent Jerry.
"It just had to be you. I know when Dick shot his wad, I was expecting it and swallowed the lot like a good girl should. Dreamy, too."
She sighed reminiscently. "Don't you ever come the untouchable, sexless, holier-than-thou attitude with me again, feller. I know how you react to a pair of hot lips around your cock, remember?"
She looked at the two naked young men speculatively. "Maybe now I've got the two of you on a string, I'll get a little satisfaction. You can take turns when I feel horny."
Dick let his eyes roam over Sin's well-stacked figure. Maybe it wouldn't be a bad idea at that. He could always get rid of his nagging animal desires, lost among the fleshy delights of her insatiable body.
But there was one thing that he had to get straight first. One little point of fact that truth compelled him to bring out before he admitted the Tightness of her statement.
"Okay, Sin, I guess you've got it all figured out," he told her. "But before we go any further and you persist in complimenting me on my dong, it wasn't mine your were sucking. Jodie was looking after that." He winked at his niece. "And very well she does it, too. She's learned a lot since she left home."
Jodie nodded her head composedly. Indeed she had, and Dick didn't know the half of it. Dick was still talking to Sin.
"As I said, it wasn't my knob you were blowing and you have already accounted for Jerry. That leaves Mr. Smart here."
Sin parted her tangled hair with her hands and looked at Alec with a new respect. "Is that right? Was it your flute I was performing on?"
Alec nodded his head, uncertain as to the result of the girl's discovery. She gazed at him with something like awe in her look.
"Well, I never thought you had it in you," she lowered her glance down to his hairy groin. "That's quite a going piece of equipment you have, mister. Cocks I've sucked in plenty, but you have staying power. I thought you'd got me beaten for a while... Most of the guys shoot before I've really gotten to enjoy it. You offer a challenge."
There was both temptation and supplication in her voice. "Let's get together more often. I've got a few tricks left that I'd like to try out on you."
Alec blushed with pleasure. That a lusty young chick like that should give out compliments did good things to his ego. Maybe he wasn't so old, after all. The best thing about it was that she seemed to mean them and wasn't just shooting the shit in the hope of getting a part in some crummy film he was casting for. Which reminded him. Christ, if he could get her to put out on film like she did when she danced to that egghead music...
He beamed back at her, a little more certain of his ground. "Why surely. You've got my card. I've got the time, if you've got the inclination."
He was rapidly falling back into the old familiar pattern. Even his speech had regained its joking innuendoes. But he became serious for a moment. There was money involved in the next suggestion.
"Say, I've got an idea. Why don't you come around during working hours? I'll fix you up with a screen test. Maybe we can do business."
Cynthia looked radiant. Like a cat presented with an unexpected saucer of cream. "You mean for one of those skin flicks? All sucking and fucking?"
Alec thought that maybe she would shy away. Most girls did. "Well, we could always get a stand-in for the sex scenes," he told her tentatively.
"Like hell you will," Sin almost shouted. "All the cock I've ever dreamed about, and getting paid for taking it!"
She rushed over to Alec enthusiastically and threw her arms around his neck. "Don't ever mention stand-ins again. Let me get at the action."
She gave him a reassuring hug. "And don't you worry, Alec baby. There'll be plenty left for you. Now take me to the nearest casting couch whenever you're ready..."
Alec looked questioningly at the younger men. Jerry seemed to answer for both of them. He spread his hands apart, palms uppermost.
"Be my guest. Maybe she'll be fit to live with if someone can drain a little juice out of her. She's bloody near killing me."
He perked up considerably at the thought. An avaricious look came into his eyes. "She'll be earning bread at the same time, won't she? Let's start talking about bread. You'll want ten percent off the top as her agent, right? Then there's my cut as her manager, say another ten percent. Gross, of course. Exactly what will that come to, now?"
He searched among the junk on the table for a pencil and paper. Jodie tiptoed across the room to the pile of cushions where her clothes were lying in a disorderly heap. It looked as if things were working out all right for her friends. All she had to do now was go back home and see if she could work things out with her old man.
She struggled into her things and looked across at the group of people who had taught her so much. Her friends formed a tight little cameo of figures as they clustered, heads close together, over Jerry's pencil and paper.
Odd words were distinguishable out of the drone of their voices as they worked out their future. Unlimited cock for Sin in as many pictures as Alec's studio could turn out. Ten percent of the gross for Jerry, plus guest spots if he could still raise a hard on between acting as director for the sex scenes.
She could hear Dick's voice occasionally making points during the conversation. He was insisting that even a skin film should make a social comment if it was to have any validity. He seemed to have ideas about how it could be done and had Alec listening to him.
Jodie nodded happily. They'd be all right. She blew a silent kiss to them and left the room without their noticing.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The cold night wind cut against Jodie's face as she drove her open sports car in the direction of her home. The wind buffeted her gently as she sharpened her resolution.
Tonight, come what may, she was going to resolve this hang-up between her and her father. Either resolve it or come to terms with it. Terms that would permit both of them to do their own thing and function within the bounds of their own complex relationship.
Jodie changed gear, her familiarity with the machine giving her the dexterity to make a faultless downshift. There was a certain satisfaction in being able to do things well. And the only way to achieve this was through practice. That and knowing what you were at.
As she threaded her way through the midnight, late theater traffic, she drew a parallel between her ability to handle the Triumph, a knowledge that had come through a long period of learning, and her newfound ability to handle the complexities of living.
This thing with her old man, for instance. Now she knew what it was, both with him and with herself, she should be able to do something about it. She speculated on ways and means as she drove.
With a jolt, she realized that she was nearing the corner of her old street. She took her foot off the gas pedal, easing the car silently down the street, and swung quietly into the driveway. As she pulled the handbrake on, she looked at the half-shadowy moonlit scene around her.
She shook her head disbelievingly. How could everything look so much as it used to? So much had happened to change her in the headlong rush of the last few days that she expected everything else to have altered as well.
It hadn't. The lights were still on as they had been the last time she had returned home late. The last action-packed time when she had opened the floor to face the unpredictable fury of her father's deviated love for her. This time, though, it was going to be he that was due for the surprises.
Her fingers shook a little as she inserted the key into the front door lock. Noiselessly the door swung open and she eased herself into the shadowy hallway. Not a sound came from the seemingly sleeping household as she made her way up the staircase.
She opened the door of her room and looked around the old, familiar surroundings. Again, nothing had changed. All her things were just as she had left them. The settled, false security of the atmosphere seemed to beckon to her, lulling her into the belief that she could just slip back unnoticed into the old familiar pattern of her past life.
It was with a feeling of anticlimax that she undressed and stood, ready to slip into a night dress. Some sixth sense made the delicate hairs on her naked skin stand up in a primitive warning.
She gasped and turned round to see her pajama-clad father inspecting her critically.
Again she felt the flood of shame as she felt his eyes toying with her well-formed, inviting body. She bit her lip and fought back her mounting revulsion. With a conscious effort she dropped her arms to her side, exposing the tip-tilted firmness of her breasts to her father's avid eyes.
As if acting a well-rehearsed part, she heard herself talking to him.
"Well, I'm back. Glad to see me?"
Her father tore his eyes away from their inspection of her boobs. He swallowed once or twice to clear his throat, allowing himself to work up the anger that he knew he should feel.
"And where the hell do you think you've been, running off like that and worrying..."
Jodie's voice was under control as she cut into his irate flow of words. She walked over to the bed and lay down as she spoke.
"Come over here and make yourself comfortable." She patted the bed beside her invitingly. "You and I are going to level with each other. It may take a while for this to sink into the middle class, middle-aged, middle-minded head of yours, but the sooner it does, the sooner we will both be able to live with each other. And ourselves, too."
As she had expected, her attitude seemed to throw her father. With a visible effort, he controlled his mounting rage and, complying with her invitation, walked across and sat uncertainly on the bed beside his naked daughter.
Jodie looked at him questioningly. "Where's mother? This is strictly between you and me. Let's keep her out of it, okay?'
Her father nodded. "She's in bed, fast asleep. She's been upset, you know," he said accusingly.
"Haven't we all?" was Jodie's pointed reply. "But let's stop fencing with each other and get down to you and me. You know, the father and daughter bit."
She looked up quickly at her father and intercepted his fixed stare as he inspected the contours of her naked body. She smiled at him knowingly.
"And that's about where it's at, isn't it?" she questioned him. "You want me, don't you? Deep down inside of you there is one half of you that wants me... wants to prove your love for me in the only way you know how. Physically."
She took his hand in hers and placed it on the soft curve of her breasts. A look of alarm flashed across her father's face and he tried to withdraw his hand as if her flesh burned him.
There was triumph in Jodie's voice as she continued. "That helps prove what I'm saying. The other half of you just won't admit to your need of me. It's bogged down by thousands of years of tribal taboos. This is what makes you beat me. You think I threaten you. There's a name for this in a book I read. But don't feel bad. I've got news for you. I figured out that I have the same hang-ups. I want you in the same way."
She held his hand close to her, making it captive against the warmth of her body.
"Do you know something else? There are cultures in the world-Margaret Mead talks about them-that would see nothing wrong in us carrying this thing through to its logical conclusion."
Her father had ceased to struggle. His hand lay still on the comforting mound of her tit while his mind listened to the flow of his daughter's words.
"So it all boils down to this, then. Either you screw me now and get it over and done with. That way, you will be playing the dominant role and your ego won't get too badly bent out of shape. Or you admit that though your prick is ready, your conscience won't let you. In other words, you just haven't got the guts to go through with it. That way, I win, and you'll never be able to throw your weight around again."
As she talked to him, she had been slowly working his captive hand off her boobs, over the delicate swell of her stomach, until it was placed between her open legs. She slid her hand over his until their fingers were interlocked.
Her father's hand was limp and unresisting, a vague extension of the uncertainty in his incredulous mind. Gently she guided his yielding fingers between the smooth outer lips of her waiting snatch until they were dabbling in the warm dew of her honeypot.
Instinctively his fingers fumbled among the fleshy folds until they found her quivering love button. His breathing hardened into short panting gasps as he felt the surge of raw naked passion sweep through him.
Bending over her, he brushed his lips across the pink fruits of her firming nipples. Jodie settled back with a sigh of contentment.
Perhaps it was for the best. Now they could bring the incestuous longings out into the open. Learn to live with them. Let them burn themselves out in a wild rocketing burst of illicit love.
She reached down and fumbled at the drawstring of her father's pajama bottoms. She could feel the hot throb of his penis through the thin covering of the fabric. The string came undone, letting the pants burst open and the forbidden secrecy of her father's penis fall into her waiting outstretched hand.
The hot, sticky lubricating emissions wet her palm as she cupped the monster in her clenched fingers. A sudden gasp of fear escaped from the constriction of her father's throat. He pulled himself away from her and stood up angrily. His face was red and congested as he fought for words.
"You little slut... you've made it up. You're trying to put something over on me. I don't want to screw you. I couldn't... not my own daughter."
His voice gained conviction as he felt the righteousness mounting within him. "You're trying to get me to lay you so that I'll let you off. Not punish you for catting around. Well, I can see right through you. It won't work. I'm going to beat the shit out of you. You're wicked. Depraved. I'll knock it out of you. No daughter of mine is going to carry on like this. Making me the laughing stock of all my friends. 'There goes poor old Hamilton. Nice guy. His daughter gives good head jobs, too.' I'll give you something to take your mind off hot pricks for a while."
He stood up and searched frantically for a belt -anything to work off the hot, unclean passion that he felt destroying, polluting every principle that he had ever held.
Through the swirling mist of his anger, he heard the bed squeak as Jodie sat up. He turned to face her as she spoke, "Quit acting, will you, for once? I've got you licked and you know it. But just to help convince you, take a look at these."
She stood up and walked over to her purse. Opening it up with maddening slowness, she rummaged inside and brought out two Polaroid pictures. Handing them to him, she went on in an even voice.
"Remember what you just said. The bit about being the talk of the neighborhood? Right. How would you like a set of these prints going the rounds of the golf club?"
She held her hand up as her father made as if to tear them up. "It's no use. There are others. The pictures don't matter. They just record a fact. The fact that, by your standards, your daughter is a slut. By mine, I'm not. I tried to level with you. Bring a little truth into our relationship. But you haven't the courage to admit that you're just as horny as I am. Okay. Have it your way. Live a lie. But know this and know it good. If ever you come the hypocrite with me again-if ever you step out of line-I'll have those pictures going the rounds. Big beautiful pictures of your sweet little cock-sucking daughter for all your friends to gloat over. Now, you don't want that, do you?"
Her father shook his head, confused and broken. "Right then. I'll draw up my terms tomorrow. Close the door as you go out. In the future, knock before you come in. Pleasant dreams, Daddy dear."
The door closed behind him and she listened to his footsteps disappearing down the corridor. They were no longer the purposeful tread of a confident, bullying tyrant, but the sad shuffle of a man who had seen the truth and hadn't got the ability to live with it.
Jodie pulled the sheets up around her. She was young, but she was truthful. She had learned what she was and, secure in the knowledge, she could work out the threads of her own destiny.
The bedside light clicked off and the sound of her steady, unhurried breathing filled the darkened room. She had won the first round in the game of life. She was free to do her own thing. To soar or fall according to her own ability.
Relaxed and confident, no longer uptight about her inability to cope. Her mind was drowsy with sleep. She surrendered to its soft insistence. Sleep... this was what she wanted right now. And she'd never cop out on a single need again.
Somewhere outside, a dog barked in a hidden corner of the night. She smiled at it in the darkness of her room.
"All right dog, if that's your bag, stay up and bark all night. Me, I'm going to sleep. There's room in this world for all of us, I guess. Even my chicken-shit old man."
Silence drifted over the bedroom like a dark blanket. Jodie's measured breathing was confident and secure. Things were going to be all right from now on. The distant dog barked his agreement from outside in the wide, waiting world.
