It was Sandra Stevenson's policy to make the most of her assets. And she was covered by a lot more than insurance as she cavorted through a Miami Beach hotel in sex-crazed style! In his book. Age of the Wife Swappers, John T. Warren writes: "Swingers are more likely to be found in higher educational and economic levels than among the poor and the less educated ... The membership of two Los Angeles clubs, with a total of twenty-eight member couples, included two M.D.s, eight biologists, four anthropologists, two psychoanalysts (one specializing in marriage counseling), fourteen teachers, two laboratory technicians...." Sandra loved 'em all, and lived as she lusted: To the hilt!
CHAPTER ONE
Sandra Stevenson was having a fine time. Miami was all they said it was and she'd spent the entire afternoon beside the huge pool, slaking her thirst with gin and tonic and sharpening her appetite by watching Ronnie Jackson, the hotel lifeguard. And now she smiled as she stretched out on the bed and drank in a private, more intimate view of the muscular young man. For Ronnie was just removing his slacks.
Ronnie was anything but a drop-out. He was one of the most popular young men on the Strip and, at seventeen, he had every reason to be happy. The reason for his success lay in his hand now, and he stroked it as he looked down at Sandy Stevenson. She was an older woman, sure, but so what? Twenty bucks for five minutes, or maybe ten, was real money, and this chick had one hell of a shape for a forty-year-old. He wondered when Mrs. Nelson was going to become jealous or raise the rent. Then he swept his landlady out of his mind and smiled as he thought about his pad and the succession of chicks from the hotel he had paraded into his room.
Now I know what he had in that tight little bathing suit, Mrs. Stevenson thought, smiling. Her mouth watered as she watched the husky young man stroking his huge, stiff prick, and she groaned softly and writhed in expectation. Her legs spread slightly then, and she smiled once again and looked from the young and ready cock to the brunette thatch of pubic hair which covered her throbbing pussy. Sandy Stevenson was hot and she was ready.
Lying naked on the bed, she crooned softly and reached out for her bronzed playmate's prick. It had been years since she'd had a chance to have a muscle like that in her, and this one looked like it could do the job. Then she touched it and let her fingers wrap themselves around the pulsing hardness of the hot cock. Yes, she thought, it can do the job. Her pussy was aching and her hand squeezed the shaft and began moving the skin up and down, faster and faster. The boy's cock was very hard, very solid.
"I love your prick," she said, trying to bring it closer to her face. "I'll bet you don't disappoint many girls with it!"
"Never had any complaints yet," he smiled. He moved slowly forward. Ronnie knew what she wanted to do and he was all in favor of it. She'd brought him to his place for a fuck, but if she wanted to play a bit, that was fine with him.
"When do you have to be back, sweetheart?"
His tanned face lighted up with an indulgent smile. "In about twenty minutes, so we can't horse around too much. I'm going to give you a ride you'll never forget, but I don't have as much time right now as I'd like to have. But you'll come back," he laughed, "they always do."
Normally Sandy would be offended by a remark like that, but she knew he was right. And with a cock like that, right or wrong, she smiled, he was right-oh, so right. For Sandy wanted only one thing-his prick. And she wanted it in her, anywhere and everywhere. It was the most beautiful prick she'd ever seen and she felt she was the luckiest person in the world. Edmund was the president of Monolith Mutual Life and could certainly afford to raise her allowance twenty dollars a day. And she knew where she was going to spend it. Flat on her back with a nice juicy prick in her cunt.
"Where's your old man?"
Sandy was momentarily annoyed at the mention, but she felt the cock in her hand and drew it closer. "Never mind about him," she said. "He's busy with his stupid insurance salesmen. Just jam this luscious jewel into me, honey, and don't let's talk about things like old men."
"As you wish."
Ronnie moved to the foot of the bed and looked at the forty-year-old brunette's cunt. It was good-looking, as were her legs, stomach, tits and face. Ronnie was basically a cunt man, but he liked a nice set of tits, and these were beauts. Women's tits were never what they should be when the chicks were lying flat on their backs with their legs spread and their knees up in the air, but these were better than a lot he'd seen on some of the fifteen and sixteen-year-olds running around down by the docks. These were large but firm, worthy to be handled, grabbed, manipulated, soothed, sucked. These were respectable tits and they were connected to a respectable old broad who paid before she played.
Still looking at her tits, he knelt on the foot of the bed between her spread thighs. Holding his erect cock as though it were a sword, he moved slowly forward until he was kneeling above her expectant body. Then he looked at her, smiled, and guided his prick to the proper place. He rubbed the head up and down against her slightly, finding the entrance from the hot moisture, and he leaned forward slowly. His smile broadened as he heard her groan when the head slipped into the tight cunt and he wanted to jam it all the way up into her stomach, but he relaxed and thrust forward slowly and gently. God, he thought, for an old bitch she's tight as a kid. He pushed forward again and smiled more broadly. Her eyes were closed and she was already writhing like a wounded snake, meeting his thrusts with hungry countermoves of her own.
Ronnie reached down and lifted her knees and brought her up on her back, so that her slot was now aimed right where it should be. One of his fingers slipped into the crack of her ass as he changed the position and popped into the tight ring of her little asshole. He knew that the hungry ones wanted to be filled up as much as possible and he regretted he had only one prick to use. But now she was being filled in two holes and he brought his hips back and began to plunge into the woman ... deeper, deeper, deeper ... until he could go all the way in and come all the way out. Then his rhythm was set and he began shooting in and out of her hot, wet, clasping cunt with a maddening tempo, working his finger ever farther into her tight asshole.
Ronnie knew exactly what he was doing as he sank his cock into the woman until his balls slammed against her ass; then he'd withdraw, almost coming out of her hungry pussy. Once again he'd drive his happy, young money-maker back in, pushing her heavily against the bed. Her eyes and groans told him she was loving every second of it.
"Ooohhh, fuck me, you mad man," she groaned. Her hips were meeting his thrusts with a force that matched his, and her hands were clutching his ass.
She pulled on him, trying to help him drive his raging shaft ever deeper into the aching cavity which had needed filling for so long. "Fuck me harder, man, harder. Oooohhh!"
Ronnie always liked to hear the rich bitches say "fuck" because then he knew they were just like any other broads. In fact, he mused, they were actually worse! He knew the rich ones who stayed at the hotel-they were always his steady customers. He'd given the big eye to some other guests but they couldn't afford his rates and Ronnie would absolutely not fuck any girl over twenty for free. After six months in Miami he knew better than that.
Now, listening to the stacked broad under him groaning, gurgling and uttering encouragement, Ronnie smiled again and maintained his pace. Those two perfect tits were too much, though, and he leaned down and tried to suck one of them into his mouth. The nipple sprang to life in his mouth and her hands came up to encircle his neck and she thrust upward to meet him as she pulled his face against her tits. And the more he bit and nibbled and sucked, the wilder she became. Once again Ronnie smiled. Good old Miami beat the very shit out of Sandusky for real action. And the money was fine! He churned down and drove his cock all the way up the insurance man's wife's cunt and smiled. She loved it!
Her tits were too much and Ronnie brought both hands forward and leaned back. As he plunged into the fire-hot cunt, he massaged her tits like a Mexican maid washes clothes-hard, almost brutally. Her eyes were closed and her lips were slightly parted. And Ronnie was glad to be fucking her. She was pretty damned good-looking and Ronnie had made it his goal in life to fuck the living piss out of every good-looking woman who set foot in Dade County. He increased his speed.
The animal was possessing Sandy and she was rapidly becoming all animal. Her hips were twisting and her legs were wrapped tightly around Ronnie's back right above his hips. She had to have every inch of his delicious cock deep inside her cunt and she was jerking and pushing up and clasping her pussy, trying to eat Ronnie alive with her tiger cunt. She had to hold him in, drag him all the way in and keep him. The rubbing was driving her crazy-that smooth, moist, happy rubbing. And Sandy imagined she was being fucked by every man she'd ever seen anywhere. Just fucked good, screwed in the cunt, in the asshole, in the mouth-ah, that's what Sandy really liked-taking a cock, any cock, deep into her mouth and down her throat. Sandy almost blushed, lying on her back, being ridden like the winner of the Kentucky Derby.
Nobody knew it, least of all the men she thought about, but Sandy would fuck or suck any man from any lan' or play any game he could name for any 'mount she could count.
She loved fucking and she was proud of the fact. But she was afraid, and could only respond when a man, any man, would suggest a motel. And this handsome young thing! He was not only a stud and a handsome devil, he was smart. He was the first guy to proposition her in almost three years. She pushed up harder and felt that old volcano beginning to erupt.
She had to close her eyes. She felt she'd explode if she watched that delicious cock ramming itself all the way into her stomach. It was too much.
Now she heard the sucking noises of a terribly hungry cunt trying to eat a cock right off a man's body. The noise was real, and Sandy knew her cunt was hungry for a cock; she smiled and clutched her dear new friend more closely. Her cunt clutched his rampaging cock more tightly. The volcano was about to explode.
I'm not a whore, Sandy sang to herself as she fucked her young male prostitute. She didn't want money, she wanted meat. And she had bought it and was now having it. Soul food from a Miami hotel meat market. And it was coming. A prick, any prick, all pricks! Sandy almost fainted. All pricks. Yours! And yours, too! Hey, you! I want you, too! Sandy thought too far; the dam broke.
Her fingernails dug into Ronnie's back and her animal nature won out, taking total possession. She pulled forward, thrust forward and clamped down against Ronnie's cock. It had quivered, vibrated in her cunt, and she knew he was shooting off. The hot, sticky cum was going to explode inside her belly ... way up ... deep ... where it is warm, hot, and sex-itchy. Sandra loved this. She loved Ronnie's prick, and it was about to speak to her in soothing poetry.
Ronnie could feel the muscles of her cunt clasping against his thundering prick. She had the strongest cunt muscles he'd ever felt, and she was squeezing his cock, preparing him for his coming orgasm. And it was coming. He looked at her, rubbing her tits and jabbing one finger up her asshole. Then, with a crashing burst, he exploded his charge into her, flooding her cunt with his hot sperm. He then thrust down harder as he felt her tighten and quiver under him with steel-like tension. She was making it with him-the perfect twenty-buck fuck.
More! she screamed to herself, and she bucked and thrust upward against that beautiful prick which was flooding her hungry cunt. She screwed upward, grinding her ass heavily against the young man's and taking his cock all the way into her pussy as her raging torrent raced out, covering his prick and cascading down his wildly swinging balls. Then, in one final lunge, she jammed herself up against him and had the best orgasm she'd ever known, with only one possible exception.
Sandy relaxed, almost unconscious, and smiled in her ecstasy. To think she had almost stayed home ... home in Des Moines, Iowa. It was a small town, but there were more than thirty thousand single girls running around every night-single working girls between the ages of eighteen and twenty-two. Sandy didn't like those odds.
The hotel lifeguard was a real lifesaver!
Edmund Stevenson was having a "pow-wow" with his regional managers of the Leaders' Club. The three people sitting before him had all managed to have some of their people go out and sell large amounts of Ordinary Life and, once again, Monolith Mutual Life outsold Monolith Mutual Funds. Stevenson's job, as president of MML, was to make sure they did the same thing again next year, and he gravely surveyed the managers from his hot areas.
"Where they sold five hundred, next year I want seven-fifty," he was saying, "and I don't give a damn how you make 'em do it! Beat 'em, withhold commissions, arbitrarily shelf some policies, but make damned sure they produce fifty per cent more, and broom out all of the deadwood."
"Do you mean...?" John Sanders began.
"Absolutely," Stevenson stormed. "You know that head-hunting pays! Get a new guy in the office and send him out all pumped up, he'll sell to uncles, aunts and cousins he hasn't seen for fifteen years! He'll even buy himself. But sell the new ones, well...."
Ellen Speakman watched silently, her lips compressed. She was Boise district manager and a consistent million-dollar producer. But she didn't approve of what Stevenson was saying and she looked from him over to the young man from Biloxi. John Sanders, or Billy Jack, as he was called, was a so-called natural. He could make a good living selling double-door refrigerators in Siberia and had, in fact, once sold a set of encyclopedias to the dark little first mate of a Batavian freighter, for cash. The man didn't speak a word of English.
The other representative was Loxley Martinez, of Queens. He was writing every Puerto Rican in New York City and had founded a cult. Loxley was painfully handsome, and every time Ellen looked at him she felt as though she were going to have a bad accident. Now her hand was in her lap, gently rubbing back and forth, back and forth. Three days in Miami, in the same hotel with him! She was fifty years old-and a virgin! An experienced virgin, perhaps, but a virgin, nevertheless. She was a master handicrafter...." And so gentlemen, and you, too, Miss Speakman, we will now adjourn until our next meeting. Sweep everything about work out of your heads while down here, but remember to think constantly as you enjoy yourselves. Ask yourself: how can I double my income in the next year?
Who can I get to work for good old MML, and how? Have fun. But think positive!" He smiled as they stood to leave.
And he was damned glad. Edmund didn't know why the meetings with the agents and managers always took so long, but they did. He had picked up the phone and asked room service to send a tall Old Cabin Still and Seven-Up to the Conference room just as there was a light knock on the door. He ordered, then hung up.
"Come in," he called.
The door opened and a beautiful young lady with wildly wavy black hair, disturbing violet eyes and a fantastic shape entered the room. Her suit emphasized what it was covering.
"Mr. Stevenson?"
"Er, ah, why yes, I'm Edmund Stevenson."
"Mr. Stevenson, mah naim is Monica de la Mouchette, an' ah'm f'm Taixas?" She announced it as though it were a question.
"What may I do for you, Miss Mouchette?"
"De la Mouchette," she corrected, moving slowly toward him. "Ah'd be reah-lly beholden to yew, Mr. Stevenson, if it would be that y'all would consider me for a job?" It was another question, but she was now touching his striped necktie and looking up at him with her sparkling violet eyes. Her lashes were very long, and the jacket of her blouse gave him the idea that her tits were quite unhappy and were trying to break out-to escape and be free.
"Where are you from, my dear?" he asked.
"Houston, suh. And ah've finished up all my schoolin' so I know how to read. By the way, you sure are one handsome devil, you are, Mr. Stevenson. Did anybody ever tell y'all that? I'll bet your wife does all the time."
Stevenson always thought he had a high boiling point, but the young woman's fingernail tracing little doodles on his cheek made him know it was nonsense. He had a very low boiling point and now his hands were moist and quivering. He was about to reach out for the tantalizing young thing when the door burst open and a steady-eyed young man strode in announcing "room service". He brought the drink directly to Stevenson and stood, waiting for his money. And a tip.
"Have them put it on 1420," Stevenson said, more than slightly annoyed. In Des Moines room service always knocked-
The waiter wheeled and strode out without a word, and Stevenson couldn't help noticing a similarity in attitudes between him and the Duke of Windsor when the Duke was about twenty years old.
He then invited the young lady to sit on the sofa and he moved silently across the room to lock the door. "Must not have people breaking in on us when we're determining your qualifications, must we, ah ... Monica?"
"Oh, no sir," she smiled. She crossed her legs and Stevenson's cock began to stir in his pants. By the time he was back it had managed to stand at attention and was more than anxious to be free of the confining slacks and shorts.
He offered to share his drink with the candidate and sat beside her, eyeing the expanse of white thigh visible above her nylon. If there was anything that excited Stevenson, it was a young girl who wore a garter belt and nylons. And that cleavage! He wondered about the huge tits under the glen plaid suit coat-how much fun it would be to handle them. They reminded him of Annette Wilder, the girl who had taken his virginity so many years ago.
CHAPTER TWO
John Sanders needed a drink more than anything in the world. Norma Jean could just wait another half-hour. She'd been making him wait long enough. Norma Jean had promised to get over her frigid spell if he took her to Miami, but he was still damned mad. Last night she had a headache and was drunk as well. And this morning he couldn't wake her up. He knew damned good and well she was awake, but when he had tried to poke his finger up her pussy she had groaned and turned over on her side, aiming away from him.
The bar was dark and cool, perfect for having a few drinks. So Billy Jack ordered a gin and tonic and stretched out in a booth and crossed his ankles. As he drank the cool and snappy drink, he reflected on his life. The insurance game was fun, no two ways about that. Delivering the policies when the old man was working was the best. And the money was good. Or not bad, anyway.
And he thought about working all those nights, being away from Norma Jean. Does she know? he wondered. And he wondered what she did all those nights. "Nuthin'," she'd always say, and hop into her bath. One night he came home early and found Bob Spencer there, sitting and talking with Norma Jean. They had all gone to school together and Bob was a pretty nice guy.
The best thing about insurance, Billy Jack thought, was the fact that he could see Marilou Parkins any time he wanted. She also went to school with them, and she was engaged to a guy in the Navy. Good old Marilou! Billy Jack smiled and finished his drink. He called for another. Marilou had the meanest cunt on the Gulf Coast-a regular snapping-turtle action. All redheads were that way, Billy Jack knew. He paid for his drink and took a deep swallow.
He'd have preferred to bring Marilou, but Norma Jean had been so nice, even if she was cold. But that would be over with in a few minutes-he was going to see to that! He was going to give Norma Jean a fuck she'd never forget. Married two and a half years, and not one really good piece of ass! It was outrageous. Norma Jean had screwed like a crazy possum before they got married. Then, all of a sudden, she just quit. Billy Jack would never be able to figure out why. He took another drink and shook his head. Women! You can't live with 'em and you can't hardly live without 'em. Money certainly doesn't satisfy them-what does?
He finished his drink and had one more quick one. Then he took the elevator up to the room and opened the door as quietly as he could. The sun was pouring in and he walked to the window to pull the drapes closed and almost fainted.
"My God Almighty," he said, "look at that down there! It's old Norma Jean, in the back of a big boat with some old fellow!"
Billy Jack walked into the bedroom to make sure Norma Jean wasn't sleeping-that the other girl might have just looked like her. But she wasn't there, and he ran back into the living room to look down again. "Yep," he said, "it's her, sure enough! Look at that bathing suit! She bought it three days ago at Krumbein's Dry Goods store."
Billy Jack was furious as he watched. The old man was serving drinks, pink drinks, from a shaker. And he was handling Norma Jean's tits. One hand was inside the top of her bathing suit. It occurred to him to run down but he was rooted to the spot, watching and becoming madder by the minute. Who the hell does she think she is? Then he almost opened the window to yell ten storys down just as she put her hand on his crotch. It looked like they were laughing and having a good old time.
That does it! Billy Jack resolved. He was going to run down and poke the old fool in the nose, but just then the man stood, untied the lines, started the boat and headed out into the Bay.
There was a telescope on the roof, Billy Jack remembered, and he ran out of the apartment suite and down the hall. Taking the stairs three at a time, he was on the roof in less than two minutes and his jaw dropped. The boat was really moving and he could just barely make out the form of his wife standing close beside the man. He ran to the telescope and aimed it at the boat and looked into the eyepiece. Nothing. Then he looked at the telescope. Twenty-five cents! The damned thing was coin operated, just like everything else. Fumbling in his pocket he was relieved to feel plenty of small change, and he pulled out a quarter and shoved it into the slot.
The telescope was high powered, and Billy Jack began to sweat freely as he watched the two occupants of the small cabin cruiser. He saw that the old man-somebody he didn't know-had his hand down the back of Norma Jean's bathing suit, and was touching her ass. The thought of some old guy handling his wife's ass made him madder yet, and he was annoyed to feel that he was growing a hard-on. He cursed himself for that. Then, all of a sudden, the boat stopped and the old fellow put his arms around Norma Jean and they both sank to the deck. Billy Jack could barely see them, but they were big as life. He hoped the boat wouldn't swing around and block his view. .
It didn't. They seemed so close that Billy Jack didn't dare breathe. His blood ran cold even though he was sweating like a cane-cutter. Now the old man was pulling her bathing suit off and she was lowering his. He had a skinny little cock. How the hell can Norma Jean horse around with something like that? Billy Jack wondered. He watched the two, now completely naked. Norma Jean was on her back, her knees up and her legs spread apart. He could see every hair on her cunt. Then she was blocked. The guy was on her and they began fucking, pumping.
Billy Jack didn't know why he was watching it all. He was so angry he made a note to kill that old guy and slap Norma Jean around properly when they got back. As he watched her fingernails digging into the man's back and her legs jerking and twisting, he was once again aware of his nervous erection. What kind of a nut am I? he asked, shaking his head. Do I get kicks watching my own wife being fucked by some stranger? Billy Jack couldn't understand it but continued to watch as the two animals humped and fucked harder and harder. He was becoming more furious by the minute when all of a sudden the telescope went black.
"Shit!" he exploded, and reached into his pocket for another quarter. Nothing. He grabbed all the change and brought it out. Opening his hand, he blinked at the coins in the bright sunlight. Five dimes, two nickels and four pennies. And a lucky silver dollar. He knew the machine wouldn't take two dimes and a nickel, so he raced toward the door to the stairway.
Just then a very husky maid walked out of that door.
"Pardon me, do you have a quarter for two dimes and a nickel?"
"Mister, I ain't got a quarter for three dimes and a nickel."
Without a word Billy Jack ran through the door and raced down the stairs. His temples were pounding and his legs felt weak.
Sapphire Carbo had worked at the hotel for six years, and not one thing escaped her attention. She walked slowly over to the telescope, thoughtfully jingling a half-dozen quarters in her pocket. Her eyes moved from the telescope to the boat about a half-mile away and she hit the meter stoutly with the pink palm of her hand. It clicked and she bent down to see what had given that sweaty man such a hard-on.
"My, my," she said, "now look at that, would you!" She saw the man's cock plunging in and out of the naked woman's cunt just as clearly as though she were peering in through a keyhole. They were fucking up a storm, and were both wet. The woman had a look of pure bliss on her face and she was hunching up as hard as she could, close to her orgasm.
She watched as the woman began her climax. She saw her hips rise jerkily to meet the man's thrusts and saw her tongue move back and forth across her lips. She'd seen that lust leer a thousand times before, but it always made her glad to see two people making it. She heard the door behind her slam, but she didn't look up, the show was too good.
"Hey you," Billy Jack yelled, "get on away from there. Go on ... git!" He tried to push the stout Negro woman away.
"Now, is that any way for a gennlm'n to be akkin?" Sapphire asked, still watching. She knew he couldn't budge her and she had no intention of moving just when it was getting good.
"I said, move on, lady."
"Wut business is it of yours wut's goin' on in the Bay?"
"That's my wife out there!"
Sapphire's laugh carried a quarter mile. "Man," she said, still laughing hysterically, "you white folks sho' is crazy! You mean you been watchin' yo wife gittin' fucked? And spendin' good money to do it?"
"Move over, lady!" Billy Jack exploded. The maid looked like an overgrown gorilla and he knew he couldn't beat up on her, but he had to see what was going on out there. That man might be killing Norma Jean.
"Hey, man," Sapphire laughed, "looky on here, you oughta like this, hee hee." She stepped aside and slapped her thigh with one broad hand as she continued to hick and laugh.
Billy Jack looked and saw his wife kneeling before the man. He was pouring two more drinks and she was licking his cock as if it were a lollipop. Billy Jack shuddered. He felt like crying.
Sapphire smiled and slapped him heavily on his thin shoulder. "That get you down, man?" she asked. "Don' let it, no how, no way. All us wimmen fucks, man. Why, I have some girls right cheer in dis here place which could suck you up and spit you out. Man, I can make you forget all
'bout that ol' lady of yours!" She smiled and bared teeth the size of post cards. They were sparkling white.
Billy Jack was stunned. His wife was sucking a stranger's cock. He didn't know what to say.
"Man, I gots redheads, blondes, brunettes-wut you want? Fust pop is fo' free!" Sapphire was still smiling.
Billy Jack couldn't believe his ears. He heard his voice saying sure, why not?
Norma Jean loved frozen Daiquiris. And she'd always wanted to be a famous movie star. It was the luckiest day of her life when she'd met Irving Steinbloch, from Hollywood. He was going to sign her to a contract if she was photogenic and could act.
She'd spent most of the afternoon posing in Mr. Steinbloch's suite, first in clothes, then in her underwear, then in the nude. He was going to have his films sent out but Norma Jean didn't understand. She thought he was using a Polaroid camera. But she knew Hollywood producers were awfully eccentric, and decided not to upset him by asking silly questions. A seven-year contract, with personal appearances at Reno and Vegas. Starting salary in six figures. Norma Jean smiled. She knew that was a lot of money.
Fucking Mr. Steinbloch was what he called method acting, doing the Stanislovsky procedure, he had said. Everybody knows that. It's what is the real clue to a girl's potential on the screen. Acting, really getting into it. Now, pouring her drink, he was having his cock lapped clean.
"Baby," he said, "you'll be a ringer, real box office. I want you to be sure to give me your correct address, including Zip Code. Must have the Zip Code, baby, Zee Eye Pee ... Zip! And you'll be getting your contract in a week, baby. But don't rap it around, huh? Our talent hunt is tippy-top-secret. Can't have UA and API knowing we're collecting new stars now, can we baby?" He smiled down at the young woman kneeling before him.
Norma Jean knew Mr. Steinbloch was an important man. He smoked very large cigars and had a cabin cruiser. And she knew she had read about him somewhere. But they never showed his pictures at the Roxy. Mr. Steinbloch explained all about that-distribution and all. The Roxy couldn't afford his films.
She smiled as she noticed his prick was hardening once again. Her audition was going well, she knew. If nothing else, Norma Jean thought, I can turn any man on. She was looking forward to having his prick in her cunt again. Hollywood! The bright lights! She'd drive through Biloxi in a new Cadillac, and she'd be able to get rid of Billy Jack and maybe marry Bobby, or even Mr. Steinbloch. Yeah, and be a famous Hollywood producer's wife. Mrs. Norma Jean Steinbloch. No ... Annette Steinbloch ... or Adriadne Steinbloch. Yes!
Billy Jack was numb as he sat in the cool, dark bar. Sapphire was sending a girl down, free. He said he didn't really care what kind of a girl if she was good-looking and sexy. Sapphire had flashed her gigantic teeth and told him not to pay that no never mind, she'd be a regular fox, the one he'd get. "Yessirree," she'd laughed, "I'll send Pistol down to you, man. She'll show you how to get yo'sef outten' 'at whale."
And now Billy Jack was on his seventh gin and tonic of the day. He was thinking about Pistol and about Sapphire. He'd never screwed a really huge colored gal. He was twenty-one even before he knew that white girls did it. Then he got married to Norma Jean and found out he wasn't far from wrong. Fifteen-year-old Louella Maxwell Jones was much better than Norma Jean, then so was Marilou Parkins, and she was a white girl. Marilou was half-rattlesnake, the way she could wiggle her tail.
Would Sapphire be any good? Billy Jack noticed that his pants were tenting in his lap, and his cock was the pole. He'd never been so sexy in his life. He imagined himself tangled up in the huge woman's brassiere, struggling with her cotton boxer shorts, getting lost in the folds or between those monstrous tits. And he wondered if she'd give milk. He'd heard they do. God, he said, those teeth. It frightened him to think about having her suck his cock. She could bite it off like a toothpick. The more he thought about it the more he wanted to have a gang-bang with the big one and all her little helpers. He was signaling for another drink as she walked into the bar.
The girl was about five feet tall and weighed maybe one hundred and five. She had the most fantastic shape Billy Jack had ever seen and she glided across the floor ... she didn't walk. It wasn't until she sat down in his booth that he saw she was colored. Her skin was light and her face was that of a love goddess. Almond-shaped brown eyes were framed by long, silky eyelashes. Her smooth black hair cascaded down her back to her waist, and her lips were like no other lips Billy Jack had ever seen. Pistol was a queen.
CHAPTER THREE
Edmund Stevenson couldn't believe his good luck.
This was the sort of thing men talk about in bars, when they lie through their teeth. The young girl was eighteen years old and she was ready. She looked exactly like a young Liz Taylor but her shape was better. A small waist, fantastic tits, well-rounded hips, beautiful and smooth legs. His hands were sweating and he wanted to pounce on her and rip her clothes off. A rape would be fun, but impossible. He had the idea she was ready.
He called down for a bottle of bourbon, a pitcher of water, a half-dozen Seven-Ups and a bucket of ice. After all, he reasoned, I've rented the room for three days-I may as well use it.
The bar had sent the room-service boy up and Stevenson noticed the superior smirk on the hop's face as the young man silently surveyed the situation. A fifty-year-old and an eighteen-year-old. Plenty of drinks. Stevenson told him to put the bill on 1420 and sent the snoopy young man packing without a tip.
He poured two strong drinks out for them and returned, pulling a chair up opposite the young girl. He handed her one drink, his eyes fixed on her deep cleavage. His imagination was going mad as he tried to envision what the tits would look like. He was going to find out if he had to hit her over the head with a chair. She was in the room and the door was once again locked. Locked and bolted.
He smiled as he thought about Sandy. She'd never know.
Stevenson sat down in his chair, slouching slightly to get a better shot of her secret place. Her legs were crossed, and since she was not skinny, he could only just see. The room was very cool, but a film of perspiration had sprung out on his forehead and his hand trembled as he raised his glass for a toast. He'd have sworn she wasn't wearing panties. But he couldn't believe it. All girls wear panties. Especially when they wear such short skirts.
"Skol, Monica." He raised his glass and she toasted him back. Her legs shifted slightly and the sparse hair on Stevenson's head tingled. By God, he said to himself, almost choking on his drink, she isn't wearing panties! I just saw her, plain as day! His hand was trembling violently now and he finished the drink in three continuous gulps. "Drink up, Monica," he said. "That first is only an ice breaker."
"You Northern gentlemen are so quaint," Monica laughed. "We don't have ice down in these parts. Only in our drinks."
"Well, then we break the ice in our drinks, eh? Anyway, drink up. We'll celebrate your application to join the friendly folks at good old MML-but mind you, your application will have to be processed."
"But aren't you the president, Mr. Stevenson?" Monica shifted her legs once again, seductively, but entirely too quickly. She also looked at her fingernails while she did it. She knew what her new boss was looking at. Her cunt was starting to itch and become wet. Yet, she loved bourbon and had nothing against a bit of drinking during a job interview.
"Er, well, yes, of course, Monica," Stevenson replied. He was looking at something he couldn't believe as he said it. "But, well, perhaps we can conclude everything here. It will take a while longer, but maybe we can do an end-run around personnel."
"Oh, Mr. Stevenson," she smiled, "you play football! I knew it. I just knew it! I said to myself the first time I saw you this morning, 'that man,' I said, 'plays football. Those large shoulders, that massive chest, that strong jaw, those steady eyes.' Yes, sir, Mr. Stevenson, I just knew you play football."
"It's nothing ... college and a bit of semi-pro...."
"Professional? Ooohhh, Mr. Stevenson, I just know you were great!" She wriggled in her seat and looked up at the ceiling. "You must tell me about your games some night, Mr. Stevenson-at my apartment. Of course I'll tell you just how to get there...."
As she talked Stevenson was having fits. She wriggled like an eel, her legs rubbing each other and her tits doing mind-wrecking things inside her tailored coat. He didn't miss a thing and was caught peeking at her as she looked at him and smiled. "May I have another drink, Mr. Stevenson? A bit stronger? I'm a Texan, you know."
Stevenson leaped forward and took her glass. He then mixed them both a bourbon on the rocks and returned. He handed her one of the glasses and turned his back to hide his embarrassment. His cock was twitching nervously, raising a large lump in his slacks.
"Mr. Stevenson?"
"Yes?" He didn't want to turn around until he was in control.
"Skol," she laughed.
He turned and raised his glass to her. Her eyes were like two jewels and twinkled merrily at him. Then the lids lowered slightly as she drank down the entire old-fashioned glass of bourbon. Stevenson couldn't believe his eyes.
She held the glass in her lap and thrust her head back, her eyes shut. The heaving breasts caught his attention and he gazed at the delicious mounds, captured under all those clothes. "Oh, Mr. Stevenson, it is so close in here, I just don't know what I'm going to do. Could I have one more little drink-just like this-then I'll have to go back to my room and get out of all these sticky old clothes. I have to stretch out. My body has to breathe! I need air!" Her arms were stretched up and back, and her tits were about to pop the seams on her coat. Her shapely legs were still crossed.
Stevenson traded glasses with her and sat down. "Can your body breathe if you're in your slip?" he asked.
"Oh, heavens," she said, "I never wear slips. They're so confining."
"Well, gee, urn, ah...."
"Mr. Stevenson," Monica began, her violet eyes regarding the older man earnestly, "may I ask you a question and will you give me an honest answer? Please?"
"Certainly, child."
"You're such a nice man, Mr. Stevenson. Would you mind very much if I removed my top and just stretched out here on the sofa in my bra and skirt? The heat seems to be gettin' to me."
Stevenson gulped. "The heat is awful, isn't it? Of course I wouldn't mind, Monica. Make yourself comfortable." He watched as she stood. "Thank you, sir," she said.
He couldn't believe it. An eighteen year old and a doll at that! She stood, legs slightly spread, and unbuttoned her short suit coat. Her face was lowered, but she was watching him, a smile playing on her lips, her eyes sparkling. He gulped as she removed the garment and flung it onto a chair. Her tits were-they were fantastic! They were struggling to escape from the thin bikini bra, and her nipples showed through the material. She smiled at him and sat on the sofa. Then she turned slightly, pivoting on her rump, and stretched out on her back. Her tits rose like twin mountains and she closed her eyes.
"Mr. Stevenson?"
"Yes, Monica?"
"Mr. Stevenson, would you come and sit beside me? I think I'm going to go to sleep and I'm afraid to-alone. Please come and touch me, put your hand on my forehead, or something...."
Stevenson moved swiftly to the sofa and stared down at the girl. He'd never in his life seen such a body. The hem of her miniskirt was just above the tops of her nylons, and the whitness of her smooth thighs was accentuated by the black garter straps.
Her eyes opened slightly and she smiled up at him. "Thank you, Mr. Stevenson. You're such a nice man." Her eyes closed again and she seemed to fall asleep with a smile playing on her face.
Stevenson took a sip of his drink which he had given to her only two minutes before. And what a two minutes! He lowered himself onto the sofa beside her and began to stroke her forehead and temples. She didn't move. He called to her softly but she didn't respond. His hand came slowly down her cheek, down her neck, over her collarbone and down to her chest. Her breathing was steady, unbroken and he nervously moved down farther, his hands touching the soft swelling of the top of her breasts.
"Oooohhh, yes," she cooed, squirming slightly. "Be nice, Mr. Stevenson. I have to go to sleep for a few minutes. Don't let me sleep more than a half-hour, please?"
Stevenson's hands coursed over the soft skin of the top of her tits, then it all became too much. He gently pushed his hand into one of the cups and began to fondle the white breast, and his finger began to tease the nipple. Her smile stayed, and he slowly raised himself and then knelt on the floor beside her, touching one of her tits and looking intently at the bulge in her skirt where he knew her pussy was.
He continued to rub her breast as his head moved slowly down to the hem of her skirt. Then he was there, and he looked up. He'd been right: she wasn't wearing panties! Her cunt was like a work of art, a pleasant valley nestled between her smooth legs. A sparse covering of dark silk covered the pussy, and Stevenson began to shake violently. He had to have it, come hell or high water! That cunt was the most delicious thing he'd ever seen!
Building up his nerve, Stevenson straightened and removed his hand from the girl's brassiere. Then he pushed her gently onto her side and unhooked the brassiere in the back. The tits seemed to spring out, and he lowered her onto her back again, removing the thin, flesh-colored garment. The tits were masterpieces. Even when she was lying on her back they stood out firmly, proudly, capped by two pale pink wild strawberry nipples.
"Go for broke," Stevenson declared softly, and lifted her rump slightly. She offered no resistance and he pulled the hem of her dress up until her beautiful cunt was exposed. Then he pulled it up farther until it was nothing more than a wide belt around her waist. Except for the garter belt and nylons-and the wide belt-she was completely nude. Nude, asleep, and lying right before his very eyes.
Able to resist no longer, he lowered his face onto her belly and fondled her tits with one hand while his other found the slit of her hot cunt. He brought his finger up and down in the crack, gently rubbing the tingling clitoris. He felt her hands come down and gently caress his neck and hair, and he knew she wasn't asleep; she'd only pretended to be asleep-that, or he'd waked her.
Stevenson couldn't believe it. The young girl was trying to pull him up onto the sofa with her, and she spread her legs.
Her eyes still closed, Monica sat up so her large tits swung softly. She pulled Stevenson up and placed her hands on his hips. Then with a quick movement, she unzipped his fly and pulled his cock out, stroking it with firm up-and-down movements. It was hard and ready to explode. She pulled him forward by the cock until he was straddling her body, his balls nestled between her tits as she lowered herself. Then in one quick gulp she took the head of his cock into her mouth and began to suck him off with slow, firm strokes of her mouth and tongue.
Stevenson had to shut his eyes and grit his teeth. The feeling of his prick in Monica's beautiful little mouth was so good that he couldn't believe it. His body was vibrating and tingling and he had to look down at the beautiful girl once again. He grabbed one tit in each hand and began caressing and massaging them until the nipples stuck out like little thumbs, but he was beginning to lose control. It was as though he were young again-what this girl was doing to his prick!
He looked down and watched his rod slide all the way inside the gorgeous red mouth, all the way until his body was snug against her perfect lips and his balls began to tingle and buzz. It was as if Monica knew, for her hand reached out and started to pump them and he reached forward and entwined his fingers in her hair, pulling her face forward as he thrust in. He was into her throat and her tongue was licking his shaft and her lips and teeth were savage.
Then it happened, starting way down deep. He held her close as the shot was released, filling her mouth and throat with his hot, sticky cum. He arched and she sucked wildly, trying to drink every last drop of his cum. Her hands pumped his heaving balls and she seemed to go completely crazy. Then, when he was finished and relaxed, she opened her eyes.
"Now, Mr. Stevenson, let me make you hard and please fuck me. I have to have you for the rest of the afternoon."
He knew they could go all afternoon. She was a genius.
Sandy thought about checking in with Edmund in the conference room but gave the idea up as a waste of time. She felt great but she was in the mood for another drink. She walked straight into the bar and ordered a gin and tonic, and Billy Jack's head bobbed as he heard the voice.
My God Almighty, he said to himself, old Mrs. Stevenson can't see me here like this, not with Pistol. Lordy, Lord! He embraced his new friend and snuggled down in the booth a few inches. But Mrs. Stevenson wasn't even looking their way. He didn't relax.
Sandy hadn't made it three times in one session for years. Ronnie was a real man, she thought. She remembered their final act and grinned. Nice thing nobody can read my mind, she thought. He'd told her he wanted to jam it up her ass just for good measure. She hadn't had a back-door man for years and remembered how good that was. So, without a word, she had pulled away from him. The slurping noise of his cock coming out from between the hot lips of her cunt brought another lewd grin to her face. A real fuck,, A triple header.
She'd had him lie on his back, his cock pointing straight up. Then she'd knelt over him and guided the head of his huge prick up against her tightly puckered ring. The cock was still wet and slippery and she lowered herself onto it until she felt the pop as the head went in. Then, with superhuman force, she sat down all the way, taking all twelve inches of the throbbing prick into her bunghole. She began to move up and down, going crazy all the while.
Her eyes were closed in a private ecstasy and she was thrusting up and down on the spear, clasping its entire length tightly with her seldom-fucked asshole. She loved it and began to twitch as she rammed down harder and harder.
Her eyes opened as she heard Ronnie's voice. "Like that, baby?" he asked. A smile was playing on his face. He'd made it three times, too.
"Oooohhh, fuck but it's good," she said. "Uuuummm, I've got to have all of you up me, Ron. Fuck me good, fuck me hard. Oooohh, but you're beautiful." And she humped harder, wanting him to blow her very stomach out when he came. Then she did something she'd always wanted to do: she turned around on him so she was facing his feet. The pleasure of the cock churning up her asshole, rubbing against the inside of her back, was wonderful. Sandy loved to have cocks in her-she was glad she had talked to Ronnie earlier that day.
She thought about old Edmund, her business husband. What a dog he was in the sack!
Two floors above the bar Edmund was, in fact, being something of a dog.
Monica had struck a flame in him and he'd made it twice and was still going strong. What a girl!
Now she was on her hands and knees, her fantastic tits hanging slightly. Stevenson was behind her, fucking her dog-fashion as he held onto her smooth tits for dear life. Once in awhile he'd lean back only for the pleasure of watching his still-swollen prick sliding in and out of the young brunette's tight cunt. The cock was coated with a glistening accumulation of cum, and slid in and out easily, even though Monica had the tightest cunt he'd ever been in.
He was fucking her fast now, but she wanted him to go faster yet. Her pussy was not deep, and Stevenson could feel the end of his cock thrust up against her cervix. Then she'd jerk back at him and he'd jam her again. On every forward thrust he'd slam his throbbing cock all the way into her, right up to the balls. Her cunt was like a hot cave filled with electric liver, and he jammed faster and faster. Then he felt yet another climax coming. Leaning forward, he grabbed the two melon-like tits and, using them as handles, pulled her back while he arched against her once again. He shoved everything he had into her and let the pressure in his nervous nuts explode in another torrent of hot juice.
He was locked against her and pumped another round of sperm into the child. He hoped she took pills but he didn't really care. She was the wildest little fuck he'd ever seen.
Monica was clasping her cunt against his draining prick and moving her tail in a tantalizing circular movement. Then she stopped and fell forward, exhausted. "Mr. Stevenson, why don't you fix us a couple of nice little drinks while we catch our breath? I just don't want to let go of you, you keen man." She smiled.
Stevenson could hardly walk. His prick had fallen, but he knew he could count on Monica. She'd make one hell of a traveling secretary, he was thinking. He should spend much more time in the field, much more time.
He mixed the drinks and returned to Monica. She sat on the sofa, completely oblivious to the fact that they were both all hanging out. A smile played on her lips as she accepted the glass.
"Monica, you're hired. Can you live in Des Moines? Also, the job requires much travel, at least five nights-I mean days-a week. With me, of course."
Monica squirmed on the sofa and smiled. "Gee, Mr. Stevenson, that sounds wonderful! I can type and take shorthand and I know all the filing techniques...."
"None of that will be necessary, Monica. You can start Monday. One-fifty per week and I pay all expenses-food, clothes, booze, hotel, hairdresser-sound good?"
Monica pouted.
"Two-fifty a week."
"Gee, Mr. Stevenson, you're such a smart man. Skol!"
Four hours later Edmund Stevenson was watching his new traveling secretary. He sat in his room and gazed down at the pool. She was diving and swimming as though she hadn't had any exercise for months. Watching her in that bikini, he felt his prick throbbing to life. Sandy breezed through the room and he thought about having a quick romp with her, but gave it up as a bad idea. He continued to watch Monica. He didn't like the way the blond lifeguard was smiling at her. He had half a mind to go down and tell the lout to leave his woman alone. Everybody at the hotel knew who he was-they'd show him and his respect, or else.
Then Edmund was sound asleep. He'd made it five times-something he hadn't done since he was fifteen years old. He started to dream about that first time, that magical time, and all thoughts of lifeguards and fantastic Houston girls fled from his mind. He was exhausted.
Sandy wanted to go back to the bar, and as she crossed the living room she looked at the beat-out wreck of a husband she was stuck with. He thinks it's to pee out of, she sneered to herself, and was gone.
CHAPTER FOUR
Ellen Speakman had a secret. She was a virgin. She had one other secret as well-she loved to drink. But nobody knew either fact-that's why they were secrets. And Ellen would never drink in public for a good reason: she might become drunk and do something foolish. The precious cunt between her legs was never going to be invaded-violated-by a man's cock. No, never! And now she sat sipping on her Gallo Ripple, puffing a long cigarette.
The first few drinks of wine almost made her . sick but she forced them down. And the smoke from the cigarette kept going in her face and making her cough. Now she sat, not comfortable, in nothing but her satin house coat. It was open and she looked down at one breast and then the other. Ellen was proud of her shape. The day before yesterday she'd measured herself and smiled with a good deal of self-satisfaction. Though fifty and a half, her body was still that of a young woman. Forty-five inch bust-forty-six and a half with iced nipples. Twenty-five inch waist, thirty-seven inch hips. She looked at her legs. They were freshly shaved and very smooth. Her hand coursed over the smooth and firm flesh and she couldn't resist smiling. She knew how many men wanted to touch those legs. Hadn't enough tried? All men were the same. They were all sex-crazed beasts who had nothing on their minds but fornication. Everybody knew that!
She'd brought two gallon bottles of white wine from Idaho because she didn't know if folks in Miami sold it in their stores. And she still didn't know because she hadn't been out of her room except to go to the conferences. They brought her meals up and were good enough to have them served to her by a nice female-a large Negro woman named Sapphire. She and Sapphire had shared a couple of glasses of wine, and Sapphire had promised to take her out. No single lady should be on Miami streets alone, not at any time of day or night, Sapphire had said. And Ellen could believe it.
Ellen was having another drink of her wine when she heard a light rap on the door and heard her name. "Ellen, honey? It's me ... Sapphire. Open up, honey."
Ellen recognized Sapphire's voice and walked to the door, holding her robe closed with one hand and holding her drink with the other. As she opened the door her robe fell open and she smiled to see her new friend. "Come on in, Sapphire! Have a glass of vino! Make your blood good and thick!"
Sapphire looked at the woman. Mighty handsome woman, she thought. I'd sure give somebody's left goe-nadd to have a taste of that! Look at them there boobies! Why, they're beautii-fulll! And that nice little mouse of a pussy. Man, oh man, could Ah take her apart and put her back together right! She'd never go back to Bossy. She'd be mah slave, yessirre I'd be a reg'lar ol' goo-rilla with that one!
Her robe flying, Ellen walked to the table and poured Sapphire a water glass full of wine. She knew the woman was looking at her. So what?
Women could look at women, that was okay. Didn't they do it all the time at the Y? Besides, Sapphire was a nice woman-a woman to trust. "Here, Sapphire. Drink up, my friend."
"Ain' you gonna have another?" Sapphire asked. She wanted her friend to be loose for later.
"Why sure, I'll drink with you!" Ellen poured herself another glass, spilling about a half-glass on the table top. She was bursting with democratic goodness and brotherhood.
Sapphire couldn't take her eyes from the nice cunt in front of her. She looked up at the Northern woman's face. She was old but not bad-looking. A few wrinkles, but nothing bad. No, she wasn't bad at all. Sapphire knew that Ellen of Bossy would make a good centerpiece for the party. The idea was to get her drunk.
"Looky here, honey," Sapphire began, "Ah knows you Yanks doan cotton much to us niggers, but I's got de feelin' you's diffunt. Y'know wut I mean?"
"Oh, Sapphire, don't say that. We love you! All of us do! Honesh-honesh-honest!"
"Well, honey, I knowed you was good and at's the reason I hustled musef up heah. Cuz we'all want you, honey, to come down an' see so me thin' fer yousef. About wut we wuz talkin' about lass night, heah? Awful men? Now grab your cigrettes there and hurry yer cute little tail on down with me!"
Ellen smiled and blushed. Nobody had ever talked to her like that before. Cute little tail! That was cute! "I have to put something on!"
"No, sweetie, no need to do all that! Folks'11 think you's goan down f'ra dip, is all. Now hurry, let's skedaddle! We gots a real show f'r y'all.
Cigarettes!" Sapphire reached for the pack of Wins tons and swept Ellen out of the room. "My key!"
"I gots keys, sweetie ... all the keys you'll evah need."
They took the service elevator down to a room above the office. Sapphire had a key for the elevator. Ellen felt strange and full of excitement, running around a Miami hotel almost nude with a glass of wine in her hand. She tingled and hoped that none of the men or wives from MML would see her. And none did, for when the elevator door opened Sapphire whisked her across the hall and into a room.
Four thin and very pretty girls sat on pillows in the room, and all looked up as Sapphire and Ellen burst in. Two of the girls looked quite a bit like pretty boys but the other two were very beautiful girls who looked exactly like girls.
"Kids," Sapphire laughed, "this is Ellen from Bossy. She's a friend; have they started?"
Billy Jack and Pistol managed to leave the bar without Mrs. Stevenson noticing. He'd signed the bill and left a buck on the booth table. Following Pistol, he was puzzled when she entered an unmarked door and began to ascend a flight of plain concrete steps. "Where we going?" he asked.
"To the room, silly," she replied, melting him with a torrid smile.
"In this hotel?"
"Don't y'all mess your head, sweet, it's on the house. Good ol' Sapphire is takin' care of everthan'."
They walked down a drab hallway and Billy Jack was prepared for anything. Then Pistol turned and smiled, raising her pretty face for a kiss.
Billy couldn't resist, and as he kissed her his hands went to her waist and then up and cupped her two breasts. They were smooth and soft and liquid under her cotton dress, and he knew she wasn't wearing a brassiere. He almost shot in his pants as her two hands touched him. One grabbed his cock and the other knifed up and down in the crack of his ass. Then she tried to poke her finger into his asshole right through his slacks. She was a hot little bitch and he thrust his tongue into her mouth.
Then, as quickly as she had started, she stopped. Turning, she opened the door to a room and walked in quickly. As soon as Billy Jack was through she shut the door and threw herself onto him, shoving her tongue halfway down his throat and wrapping one leg around his. She was rubbing up and down against him, scraping him with her firm tits and hot Venus mound. She shuddered like a female Siamese cat in heat. Billy Jack reached up under her dress and sunk his fingers into the crack of her bare and moist ass.
Billy Jack would almost kill anybody who ever said it, but the fact was he just loved colored girls. More than once he had thought about leaving Norma Jean and finding himself a dusky firecracker and moving to Wisconsin or Minnesota. Up there, mixed marriages were pretty common and, in fact, many whites with white wives rather envied guys with Negro wives. They were dead right, too, Billy Jack mused, feeling out the octaroon who was clinging to him like an octopus. These little shits live to fuck and some know how to kill a man in his own bed. His finger found her asshole and popped in. She shivered and grabbed his cock.
Then he saw something move over to his right and he started. It was only his reflection in a huge mirror and he smiled sheepishly. Man, oh man, he said to himself as he looked at his reflection, I sure should put on about ten or fifteen pounds. I'm a'looking not unlike a poor farmer's scarecrow out in the weeds. But he felt the insistent hands of his partner rubbing his cock and trying to get into his ass, and he looked for the bed. He smiled once again-it was right under the mirror.
Pistol was wearing a peasant blouse, and Billy Jack pulled it down and gasped. "Oh, my God," he said.
She looked up at him with puzzlement mixed with disappointment. "What's the trouble, ace?"
"No trouble. But where did you ever get jugs like that?"
"I grew 'em. Let's check you out, stud." She got to her knees and unzipped Billy Jack's fly. His cock sprang out and stood up slightly to the right. "Hey, man. You left handed?"
"Yeah, how did you know?"
"Never mind, man. That's a bad-ass piece of cock you got theah. Can a girl have a taste?"
"Jam up. I've got all night an' I'm loaded."
Billy Jack buried his hands in Pistol's hair as she took his nervous prick into her mouth. It went all the way in, right up to his balls. He didn't know what she was doing with her tongue, but it was driving him crazy and he shot off instantly, pulling her hair and slamming his cock tightly into her mouth. She sucked and nibbled, slurped and swallowed, jacking him off fast to get every last drop of his cum into her mouth.
Her pussy was aching to have the huge cock thundering in and out of it. This cock was as big as any she'd ever seen, and she thought his wife must be crazy, if Sapphire was telling the truth. She wanted to sit on his face and have his tongue up her cunt, but she knew most men were too squeamish for that. They'd eat eggs and liver and kidneys, but most of them didn't want to suck on a nice, clean, juicy, fresh and ready cunt. Men were sure enough crazy motherfuckers, she thought. She swallowed the last of his delicious cum and undid his belt and dropped his pants. Then she threw her arms around his legs and rubbed his knees with her firm tits. The nipples were as hard as little sling-shot pebbles.
"Take you rags off, man, so we c'n get with it."
Billy Jack lost no time. In a minute he was between her legs, slamming his cock in and out of her tight, hot pussy. He was nibbling on her nipples and had two fingers up her asshole, fucking as if his very life depended on it. Her fingernails were digging into his back and he was instantly having his second orgasm. From her response he knew she was there, coming with him. Together they arched and strained, juices intermingling in a satisfying mixture. He looked into her happy eyes and fell onto her, plunging his tongue into her throat. In a minute she stirred and pushed.
"Man, now that we got all that nervousness out of our systems let's settle down to some good old-fashioned fucking. What'dy'a think a that?"
Billy Jack smiled. His cock was shrinking, but then he thought about Norma Jean lapping that old man's cock like some kind of a cow, and his cock sprang to rigid attention once again. He knew then that if he ever fucked her again he was going to pretend he was a hunchback who had kidnapped her, and he was going to fuck the living shit out of her and he'd split her a new asshole in the bargain. Then she could lick his cock clean-the wanton whore bitch. He'd teach her to go out fucking strangers, and no lie!
"Man," Pistol asked, "would you kiss my muff?"
"Sweetie," Billy Jack replied, "I'll suck yer innards out! C'mon ovah heah and put that little trouble maker on mah fice. Ah owe yeh a little sum pin." Billy Jack was beginning to feel the gin and tonic and he always became generous when he got drunk. And he loved pussy more than anything in the world, especially after seeing his wife jobbing an old geezer in the back of a cabin cruiser on Biscayne Bay. He stretched out on his back, right below the mirror, and accepted Pistol's ready and glistening cunt. She smelled like women should smell-fresh-fucked.
His cock was standing like a mast. She sat on his face.
"Looky deah, Ellen," Sapphire laughed. "Dint I tell y'all theah was a show? Y'all knows that there man-he's with youah companee."
Ellen sat Indian-fashion on a pillow right next to the two-way mirror. She couldn't believe it. John Sanders was behaving like an absolute animal, sucking that little girl's cunt and jacking his cock off behind her back just as if nobody could see. It was obvious he was enjoying himself because his hand was moving up and down just like he was a crazy money in the zoo, listening to kids rubbing Coke bottles together.
The six women stood beside the bed looking at Pistol being eaten alive. She seemed to love it and Ellen couldn't understand why. A dreadful man. Then she felt Sapphire's hands on her tits.
"Ellen, honey, have you ever sucked a cock?"
Ellen tried to wheel but she was held fast by the two powerful hands. "Uh, no." She looked at the cock and wondered what it would taste like. She felt Sapphire's strong hands professionally caressing her tits and decided she'd try anything as long as she could have her tits rubbed like that. She bent forward and took the rigid prick between her lips. It felt strange, alive-and it tasted salty and pungent. But it was strange, alive. She pulled it as deeply as she could into her mouth and was disappointed to feel Sapphire's hands release her tits.
She sucked and licked the cock, and her hands coursed over the flat stomach of her fellow-manager when all of a sudden she almost fainted with a shock of delight. Something soft, yet firm and wet was gently thrusting itself into her sacred pussy. She released her grip on the prick and turned to see Sapphire's head bobbing slightly above her ass. Sapphire was actually sticking her tongue into her cunt and it felt like heaven. The tongue was raspy when it lapped and smooth and wet when it speared.
Ellen thought she was going to die and she had to dive down on the huge and rigid prick to keep from losing her mind. Her tongue curled around it and lapped it; she nibbled on the swollen head and teased the skin with her teeth and lips. She never knew that sucking a cock could be so good. Suddenly, she felt two hungry and feverish hands clasping at her tits and she leaned forward, pressing against her tits, and bound and determined to take that cock right down her throat. It was hard and she thought she was going to gag, but with a superhuman effort she opened her throat and took it, bringing her lips flat up against the wiry tangle of pubic hairs at the base of John's cock. She grabbed his balls and squeezed them as she sucked.
Her explosion was met by John's and she had to swallow for all she was worth to keep from drowning. But she didn't think anything about her own orgasm. She'd never experienced anything like it, not even with the cordless vibrator she'd picked up in Sioux Falls, South Dakota. Old Sapphire certainly did know how to please a woman. Then she became aware of John's hands jamming her face down all the way; his prick was solidly lodged in her throat once again. The very thought of it was enough to make her climax again and, with another expert flick from Sapphire's tongue, she did.
The next thing she knew Sapphire was holding her by the hips, fucking her buttocks with a monstrous bush of wiry black pubic hairs and the largest cunt she'd ever imagined.
The party went on for two more hours and Billy Jack found out what it would be like to fuck a really huge colored gal. He didn't know which he liked better-eating old Ellen Speakman or fucking Sapphire. Contrary to his expectations, Sapphire was a wild piece of ass, a mistress of cunt control and power movement. He also fucked Sapphire between the tits as the redhead speared him in the ass from behind with her tongue. When he made it, he'd shoved his cock up and put it under her nose. She snuffed up every drop and smiled.
"Ellen, honey," Sapphire smiled, "was that nice for y'all?"
Ellen was lying on the bed, face down, her bare ass exposed.
Billy Jack stood above her and looked down. Then he looked at the looming purple shape of the huge maid. "Sure a pity not to fuck her a good one in the ass, right?"
"If thass wut you want, man," Sapphire laughed. Then she turned and smiled at a blonde who was no more than fourteen. "Snowflake, y'll c'mere raht now and make this gennelm'n's prick good and big, heah? C'mon!"
The young girl was nude and had tits the size of small apples. The nipples pointed up jauntily and were erect. Her cunt was wet from a session with one of the short-haired girls. Billy Jack didn't even want them to touch him. But he welcomed the frail blonde with the small but firm tits, and as she bent over to suck his cock he pushed his thumb into her cunt. He couldn't believe that a small girl could have such a huge slot. It was twice as big as Sapphire's. He managed to get three fingers in, and he stuffed his little finger into her asshole as she sucked. He could also not believe how good the child was at cocksucking. He was inflating like magic and he looked at Ellen's quiet and smooth ass as he tried to get four fingers into the youngster's twat.
When he was standing straight out, the skinny blonde stepped back like a zombie. Her work was done and she went to sit in the lap of one of the other girls.
Billy Jack leaned forward, made some spit, dropped it on Ellen's crack right by her asshole, and covered her with his body. She was out like a light so he merely put the head against the tight hole and pressed forward. It went in, scraping tightly and pulling his skin back painfully. He reached forward and under her and grabbed her firm, large tits in each hand and felt that old rush begin once again. It was hard stuffing his cock into her asshole, and she wasn't helping at all, but the idea of fucking an unconscious fifty-year-old in the ass sparked Billy Jack on and he thrust harder and sank his cock in halfway. It seemed to grow and now looked bigger than it ever was before.
Then he got an idea and he imagined she was Norma Jean and he was a sex-fiend monster fucking the shit out of her, and he brought his hips back and jammed forward so hard that he would have killed a horse. His cock speared in, sinking to the balls in the hot blackness of the old lady's tight asshole. He began to pump her, and grabbed her tits with brutal force. "Take this, you no-good fer nuthin' slut bitch," he breathed as he squeezed and fucked ever deeper. "I'll tear you that new arsehole raht nah!"
Sapphire couldn't resist stuffing her thumb up his ass, and as she did he lunged forward and filled Ellen's rectum with his eighth serving of cum for the afternoon. He was lying on the woman's back as he heard Sapphire's happy voice.
"Yo white folks sho nuff is crazy! You fuck her in the can an' she's a cherry! Lawdy, Lawd!" Sapphire broke out into uncontrolled laughter and Billy Jack's finger slipped down to the wet cunt and went in. Then he felt it.
"Gawd damn ef she ain't," he said. "Well, there's always tomorrow, hey?"
Loxley Martinez strode out of the barber shop and he saw her. She looked like the most sexy woman he'd ever seen in the world. Sitting by a pair of potted palms near the magazine rack, she was a dead ringer for Jennifer Jones in her earlier, sweater-girl days. His prick was signaling to him that she was a live one and he was reading the message loud and clear. Wild pussy was his hobby and he had a perfect sense of direction. This one was wild.
"May I sit beside you?" Loxley was a cross between Gilbert Roland, Cesar Romero, Vittorio de Sica and Rudolph Valentino.
The girl answered by having her eyes roll up in her head and slumping into the chair. She was down from Swarthmore for the weekend and didn't expect to see anybody except her Aunt Sally. She didn't faint completely and recovered enough to ask, "Who are you?"
"Just call me William," he said, patting her cool and soft hand. "You look like you could use a nice, cool refreshment."
CHAPTER FIVE
Billy Jack stumbled down to the bar, almost senseless. He couldn't for the life of him figure out why Norma Jean would want to go out and fuck some old fool. Then he wondered if she did it for money. He'd made it eight times with the chicks up on the second floor. Why shouldn't he be able to make it at all with her? He wondered if they were still out there in the boat, fucking like a couple of rabbits.
"Hope the bastard burns his ass off in the sun," he muttered as he walked around the corner into the bar. It was still empty except for Mrs. Stevenson. "Hullo, Miss Stevenson. How y'all this afternoon?"
"Oh, hello, John," she said. Her fingernail was teasing a small ice cube in her glass. "Can a lady buy a gentleman a drink?"
"Well, sure enough, Miss Stevenson. Could we sit in that booth over yonder?"
He helped her off her stool, and, although he was shaky himself, he noticed that she wobbled and leaned pretty hard against him. I reckon I'm the goat of all time, Billy Jack said to himself as he steadied Mrs. Stevenson with one arm around her, his fingertips exploring the sides of her interesting tits. He tried to see some reaction through his fog but she seemed not to notice. So he probed higher. Still no reaction. Then he noticed a definite stirring in his balls. By golly, I am the goat of all time. He was now cupping Mrs. Stevenson's tit completely.
She didn't so much as blink.
"Ah, let's sit us down right here, Miss Stevenson."
She smiled broadly as he helped her onto the leatherette seat. Then she scooted over and motioned for him to sit on the outside. But very close. She was tipsy but her cunt itched badly. It had been itching for almost two hours. And it was beginning to drive her insane. Then she saw John Sanders, the Biloxi manager. He was tired-looking, she thought, but any port in a storm, she added, smiling wickedly. When she felt his hand touch and finally grab her tit she knew she was onto a live one. And the itching increased. He might rub it for her.
"Cigarette, Miss Stevenson?" Billy Jack was sitting in contact with the woman, and her leg was snug against his. He was still looking into her smiling blue eyes when he felt that old feeling. It was her hand, and his eyes began to water as he blinked.
Sandy smiled. "No, thank you, John. I think sucking on those awful cigarettes is such a waste of-time, don't you?"
Billy Jack blinked again and reached toward her crotch. "Gee, Miss Stevenson, I guess you've got something there." Her fingers were wrapped around his prick and she was trying to squeeze it and jack it off into life. "But, ah, I reckon as I'm going to take that cigarette anyways. Here in the bar and all...." He managed a weak smile and lit his cigarette.
Although he was so sore he could hardly move, and the afternoon was almost gone, Billy Jack still couldn't help looking at Stevenson's wife sitting next to him. She was just another woman, no matter how much money her husband made. She had all the equipment most women have, he believed, including a will to make maximum use of all of it. He noticed that her hand was busy in his lap and his was now in hers. It was obvious that she was looking to get fucked and Billy Jack didn't know how he was going to do it but he did know he was going to give it a heroic try.
And, of course, Mrs. Stevenson was not only fifteen years older, she was the boss's wife. That sent a thrill racing through him. It would be like the time he and Mrs. Jackson had so much fun when he was a kid. He'd been working after school and on weekends in Mr. Jackson's grocery store as stock boy. That was something!
Up until the time he met-really met-Mrs. Jackson, he'd only screwed younger girls ... that adolescent stuff in the back seats of cars at drive-in movies and parked in the country. But one night, Friday it was, he had to work late. Old man Jackson was out of town on business, and inventory had to be taken. Fifteen years old and he had his initiation, his trial by fire.
He'd been counting canned okra in the basement when Mrs. Jackson first came down. She'd only worked at the store for three weeks, filling in after Jackson had let Aggie go for giving lip to one of the older customers. And Bernice wasn't working late, so they were alone in the store. Billy Jack had a cold six-pack of beer behind the cardboard box and was having himself a beer when she materialized in the doorway. His hair stood on end. He hadn't expected to see anybody standing there, but there she was-tall and silent, like a ghost, standing under the dusty twenty-five-watt light bulb.
"Hi," she sang, walking up to the pile of boxes and inventory lists, "You're Billy Jack, right?"
"Yes, ma'am," he said. "I guess I sure enough am that."
She stuck out a perfectly manicured hand toward him. "I'm Rhonda Jackson-Harold's wife. I've seen you around, but you spend most of your time down here. Is that a cold beer there on the floor?"
"Uh, yes, ma'am," he said, waiting for the hatchet to fall. "Would y'all like a can?"
"Call me Rhonda, Billy Jack," she said. "Sure, I'll have a beer with you. It's been a rough day and we'll probably be here for hours. You don't mind spending your Friday night helpin' an old lady count cans, do you?"
Billy Jack remembered blushing as he popped open her can of beer and handed it to her. "No, ma'am-uh, Rhonda. I don't mind-that is, you ain't no old lady-aw hell, ma'am, it'll be a pleasure!" He walked away from her and sat down on a box.
She drank her beer and chattered gaily, her legs crossed so she was sure he could look up and see her. And she scratched her back with a thumbnail, careful to jut her tits out far enough so he'd be able to see, for certain, that she had a nice set. There was a lot of work to do but Billy Jack relaxed. If Mrs. Jackson wanted the boss to pay him time-and-a-half for sittin' around and jawin', that was just great with him. But he was wondering about Mrs. Jackson. The store had been closed for a half-hour and they were all alone in the basement, drinking beer and talking.
He was wearing a T-shirt and tight Levi's, and, although he was slim, or lean and mean as they said at school, the bulge in his pants had been pretty plain for anyone to see. And he stopped a smile as he saw her zero in on it. Then he began to understand.
"I'll bet you cut a wide swath with the girls, Billy Jack."
Billy Jack shrugged and took another sip of beer.
"Do you have a girl?"
"Not in these parts, ma'am--er, Rhonda. There's kind of an old friend up in Downsville, north of here a piece, but she's a drag."
"Drag? What's that?" Her eyes were still roving over him.
"Not really," he lied. "I prefer older ... ah ... people. I mean, then you can talk and ... Oh well, you know...."
"Sure I do, Billy Jack. Shall we have another beer, then go to work? We have a lot to do."
He opened two more beers and handed one to the lady. Her finger touched his when she took the can, and a definite little fire started to trickle through his veins. He kept his eyes focused on her large but high-riding tits, and she seemed to notice and stuck them out a bit farther. His hard-on became larger.
"You don't mind sitting for a few minutes, do you Billy Jack?"
"No, ma'am, not at all. I've been counting so many cans my eyes are tending to cross."
"Sure it's not the beer?"
"Shucks, Rhonda, beer keeps me mellow, it don't bomb me."
"Didn't you have a date tonight, Billy Jack?" Mrs. Jackson wriggled in her chair and he copped another peek at the white thighs above her nylons.
"Naw. These girls around here are dumb and I wouldn't waste my time on 'em."
"What kind of girls would you waste your time on, Billy Jack?"
"Most any kind so long as they ain't dumb. I mean, they gotta be mature. Fact is, ma'am, I prefer wimmen."
"And do you know any women, Billy Jack? I mean well?"
"No, ma'am, only you. And I guess I only just know you well enough to have a couple of beers with...."
"That's right, Billy Jack, but that'll be our little secret, won't it? And around Mr. Jackson you'd better not call me Rhonda."
"Not likely I will, ma'am. And about this beer-of course it's our secret. I'm only fifteen, y'know. Course, old sheriff Denny Lee Snavely don't pay no nevermind about kids drinkin'. He's too busy for that. Catching robbers an' all."
"Well, good for Denny Lee." Her eyes were fixed on his cock and she sighed and shook her head.
"What's the trouble, ma'am ... Rhonda?"
"I don't know ... I'm so, oh, so ... unhappy. I just can't stand it, I just...." She burst into tears and put her beer down.
Billy Jack was up like a flash and beside her. "Gosh, ma'am, is there anything I can do? Anything at all?"
Her eyes were full of tears but shimmered green. "Yes-oh, no, no. No, Billy Jack, I couldn't. I just couldn't ask...."
Billy Jack had a sneaking hunch what was brewing. He knew of women who'd lock themselves in the basement of a store and start to cry in front of a guy, after drinking beer and crossing their legs and sticking their tits out. So he decided to make his move. He gathered all his nerve and reached out and put his hands on her shoulders. Then he moved forward and pulled her toward him.
"Oh! Billy Jack, what are you doing?"
He didn't answer, but helped her to her feet, sat on the chair himself and lowered her onto his lap. That was his best position for operating. One arm went around her waist and his other hand went to her shoulders. He pulled her head down and kissed the back of her neck. She didn't even try to escape.
"Billy Jack," she cried, "don't ... please don't!"
He knew she was kidding so he brought her face around and kissed her, moving his hand to capture one of her tits. And it all worked out. Her lips were tightly closed-two thin bands of smooth skin locking the door, but he began to massage the nice firm tit, and gradually her mouth opened just enough for him to sink his tongue inside. And that did it. She became a wild woman and they rolled off the chair and onto the pile of broken-down cardboard cartons on the concrete floor.
He unbuttoned her dress as they kissed and rolled on the floor; then he managed to remove her brassiere, releasing the two firm white tits he'd thought so much about. The rest was easy and he moved away from her for a minute to pull her panties off. She smiled and straightened her feet so they'd slip over more easily. Then he whipped his cock out. It was huge even then. He remembered the expression of fear mixed with happy anticipation in Mrs. Jackson's eyes. She couldn't take her eyes off his cock and the pink tip of her tongue wet her lips.
He screwed her for an hour, making her come three times with a wet gush from her neglected pussy. He thought she might be big for him, but she was tighter than six fingers in a glove, and his oversized cock just managed to fit in. After they were both wet, his cock slipped in and out with a perfect pressure and sensation, and the friction of his throbbing prick against the sides of the moist and hot cunt was driving them both to orgasm after crashing orgasm. Finally, they fell exhausted and lay for fifteen minutes on the smooth, clean pile of cardboard.
Then she slowly stood and went to the cooler for another six-pack. They drank it, and Billy Jack knew he was in for a night of it. And he also found out what a nymphomaniac was.
Now, looking at Mrs. Stevenson, he wondered if she could suck a cock as well as old Mrs. Jackson. That episode lasted for three years. The guys had laughed at Billy Jack, the eighteen-year-old stock boy. Little did they know!
Mrs. Stevenson's hand was expert and she had worked Billy Jack into another state of aching hardness. And he intended to reward her by letting her suck him off and then he was going to plunge his dick all the way up into her stomach.
The thirty-one-foot Trojan was rocking slowly in the center of Biscayne Bay, right outside of the channel markers. Billy Jack's wife Norma Jean was humping furiously, reaching as far as she could for yet another orgasm.
How long they'd been out in the boat neither could remember.
All Norma Jean could think about was being fucked by a genuine Hollywood producer on his yacht right in the middle of the Bay in Miami. And Irving Steinbloch was enjoying himself as much as if he were a kid. He didn't give a tinker's damn about the dumb broads he'd get out into the boat. And there had been all kinds, from teeny-boppers to dowagers, from go-go girls to God-fearing Bible-belt Baptists, from hair-brained tourists to heiresses. They were all the same: suckers for that old movie-producer bit.
The photos paid the rent on the boat and the suites and the promise of discreet silence fattened his bank account. Irv smiled. Beats the shit out of pushing zippers in South Carolina, he mused.
Irv thought about all the virgins he'd had since he changed jobs, since he'd gone into business for himself. The thought of thin little girls with very small tits would always give Irving an instant erection, but there were times when he preferred an older woman. One time he'd taken this utterly horrible beast up to his room just to take photos for perverts up at the orange-juice canning plant. They sold like leases on life.
She was in from Indiana with a flower club-some national convention. She was so easy it was a crime, the fat old bag. He'd had trouble maintaining his composure during the underwear shots: her legs were like blue cheese and her tits were the size of watermelons with nipples two inches long. He'd had to tweak her nipples so they'd stand out. She must have had seventy-five-inch tits, the poor old cow. Irving had thrown a quick fuck into her just to make her happy and then he broomed her out. He smiled broadly as he thought about her sitting in her living room, waiting for the mailman to bring her Hollywood contract. The dumb old toad!
Then there were the triplets. Fourteen-year-olds. They had spent almost a week doing screen tests, stills and method work. Their father was a major-league baseball player, and Irving was a bit frightened about the whole thing, but lust won out. The snaps he took of them were among his best. He'd contemplated becoming a professional photographer and stopped short, snorting. I should open a shop and take baby pictures when I can take nude girlie pictures without a shop? Ha. And business won out.
Now he was lying beside the Southern girl on the bleached decking, his cock still pushed snugly, if a little limp, between the wet, grasping cuntlips.
He was idly rolling her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, smiling at their length. They'd grown a good three-quarters of an inch in the past two hours.
"You have the nicest tits I've ever seen, and believe me, kid, I've seen a tit or two in my time!"
"Why, thank you, Sir! I'll bet you have at that."
"And you can suck a cock, kid. That's important, very important. But there's one thing that bothers me...."
"Oh," Norma Jean gasped, "what's that, sir? Please tell me."
"I don't think there's anything that can be done about it-a matter of attitude, mostly-not something you can just do or not do. And I'm afraid...."
Norma Jean could see her Hollywood career in movies flying out the window and she was going to fight it. "Please! Tell me!"
"Well, you suck a cock okay, kid, but something in the back of my head tells me you're not, well-I hate to say this, kid, but you just don't seem to be into it, you know what I mean?"
"You mean you think I don't like to suck cocks?"
"That's it, kid! Hey, you're quick. Bet you could get your lines in one reading, so it's a real shame-a damned bad shame."
"But I do like to suck cocks! Really and truly!"
"Geez, I don't know, kid." He looked at his watch. "I really have to get back. Meeting Jack and Sol at the Fountain Blue for champagne...."
"If I prove how much I like it, could I go, sir, could I?"
"You? Kid, come on down off that cloud. Who the hell are you? A budding starlet, a bit-part actress, maybe a walk-on for the Carson show. Naw, kid. I've got to talk with big people, BIG people, kid. These aren't hacks, you know. And hell, if they saw you they might try to steal you. No, kid. I got to keep you under wraps until your first premiere at Grauman's. You'll need a white mink and maybe some diamonds...." Irving was looking at her very seriously. "But about this other thing...."
He stretched out on his back and examined his watch. A smile crossed his face as he looked at the Timex. Got to get me a new watch this afternoon, he mused--one with class. Rhinestones or some jazzy green glass-maybe a stretch band-this leather thing smells so bad I could heave. Then he smiled. "See this watch, kid?" He held it up so she could see it.
"Yeah, gee. It's pretty."
"Right! Anita gave me this watch. All the stars are generous, kid, real generous. Anita was just getting started. She was a rural kid, just like you, kid. A hayseed, you know what I mean?"
Norma Jean had crawled down and taken Irv's limp cock into her mouth and was sucking as though her Hollywood career depended on it. She had to make it hard or else she could just forget about bright lights and stardom. She was a hard-headed realist who knew she had to put wood in the stove before she could get heat out of it. She might have been backwoods, but she knew she'd never get something for nothing. And she sucked and nibbled away, pumping the producer's balls.
Sapphire was watching the shapely brunette girl who was sitting beside the pool. She knew the girl would be a gold mine if she could be recruited. A chick like that could bring at least one hundred bucks an hour if handled properly, and everybody knew that Sapphire was the best trainer on the avenue. Sapphire might have been only a maid, but she played every cushion and she kept her eyes open. Her fifty-percent finder's fee had made her a rich woman and she didn't get rich by letting moss grow on her back.
But she wondered just how she was going to approach the stacked young girl. Ronnie was out-he had his own action going, but it didn't really cut in on hers, so Sapphire let him play his penny-ante games. Yet, she'd like to have him in her stable too. Lots of fruits would come to the hotel. And most of them were rich as sin. Sapphire couldn't really understand why they'd be richer than just plain folks, but they were. Yes, she thought, I'll have to put my mind to pickin' up on that young stud. And get the chick as well. Would be a good day's work, yes it would.
CHAPTER SIX
Billy Jack's head was spinning after three large drinks, and he knew he was going to have a hard time getting Mrs. Stevenson out of the bar.
It wouldn't look very good if old Stevenson or one of the others saw them. They'd all talk and blow everything up and out of proportion. No, slipping out of the bar and through the lobby was going to be tough, or a matter of luck.
He could just see Ellen Speakman come up to them. Hell, he thought, old Ellen would run the other way-like a rabbit!
But now they were walking across the lobby, and the only person that even glanced at them was a husky young kid with a good tan and long blond hair. Probably the lifeguard or a guest.
Billy Jack was about to stop and go over to ask the kid what he was leering at. The kid saw him and his grin broadened and Billy Jack decided to skip it. He didn't want a scene, not when he was hustling his boss's wife up to his room!
The elevator was empty and the minute the door closed Mrs. Stevenson threw herself at Billy Jack and put his hand on her cunt. She wanted him to rub it for her, to keep it hot. And as the elevator went up, so did his cock, for the thought of shooting a gush of cum up old Stevenson's wife's belly made him sexy. Stevenson gave him a short-count once and Billy Jack never forgot that shit. What man would? What real man?
"You've got to fuck me, John," Sandy growled.
She was feeling like a slut, like the most common whore to ever push her cunt onto a stiff prick, and she liked it. In Des Moines she had to be careful because there she and Edmund were distinctly upper crust. Here she was a woman, any woman, a face in the crowd. Here she could do damned well as she pleased and who'd know? Who knew her from the other hundreds of thousands of people? Nobody! And now she unzipped his fly and reached into his pants.
"Ye gods, not here," he stammered. "Someone might get on!"
"Well, if they do, why-we'll have a party!"
"Let's go to my room, Miss Stevenson...."
"John, I wish you'd stop calling me Miss Stevenson. I am not a Miss and my name is Sandra. Call me Sandra."
"Sure thing, Sandra. And you call me Billy Jack. That's what my friends all call me-Billy Jack!" He smiled broadly.
The elevator stopped and the door slid open. Sandra's hand was stuffed in Billy Jack's fly and they walked down the hall just like that. Billy Jack was blushing-hoping nobody'd come out.
Just then a door did open and Sapphire strode into the hall. She stopped in her tracks, her eyes wide and her mouth hanging open, exposing a very pink mouth and large teeth. She was speechless.
"Sapphire, hon'," Billy Jack said, "you wouldn't be followin' me 'bout, now, would you? Seems this is the third time...."
The hallway echoed with hilarious laughter and Sapphire swatted her huge leg with her pink palmed hand. "I do declare, Billy Jack, if yo' don' beat all! Yo' is too much!" She was laughing so hard she hardly made it back into the room she had been in.
Sandra was bewildered. "Friend of yours?"
"Might say so. Old gal is pretty good. I mean, she's a nice ol' lady. You should get to know her...."
Billy Jack wrestled the key out of his pocket and opened the door. He waited until Sandra was in; then he followed her and clicked the little top button by the latch so the door could be opened without a key. He really hoped Norma Jean would walk in on them. It would teach her an object lesson. Tit for tat!
Then he went to the window. That fucking boat was still out there and he knew what they were doing on it. They weren't fishing for no mullet, he thought, and that's for damned sure! He hoped she'd catch a mess of crabs, though. Would serve the bitch right! He watched Sandra as she sat down and he said, "Would you like an ice-breaker?"
"Silly, there's no ice down South. Just in the drinks."
"Well, let's break some of that if'n it's all we got."
Both were drinking gin and tonic and dancing lazily to the Muzak. Billy Jack held his drink with one hand and the crack of Sandra's ass with the other. She was holding his gear-cock, nuts and all-and was weaving like a half-drunk woman. She licked his cheeks whenever he got close enough. And Billy Jack smiled as he wondered how his cheeks tasted. He hadn't had a chance to wash his face since the orgy in the servants' quarters.
"Hey, Billy Jack, let's play Let's Pretend."
"Never played no pretendin' games. How's it go?"
"We pretend we're something else." She held his cock and was beating him off firmly. His finger was in her asshole and they were almost staggering as they were dancing to Moonlight in Vermont played by a pretty good orchestra. Muzak had some good music, but nothing like Roy Clark, Welk or Jackie Gleason.
Billy Jack was trying to lead and Sandra kept stepping on his feet so he smiled and told her she was pretty light on his feet. She stopped and laughed, pulling her air in with a muffled scream. Then she laughed some more and rocked so she almost spilled her drink. And Billy Jack wondered if she was crazy. "How do we play this pretend game you were talking about?"
"Well," she said, still laughing at his joke, "we both get to be anything we want to be and do anything we want to do to the other. Is that fair enough?"
"I'll tell you what, Miss Stevenson-I mean Sandra, I'll sure enough go along with you as long as you ain't some male kind of animal that's gonna stick me. No thin' that sticks me, hear?"
Sandra pouted. "Can't I be a horny gorilla?"
Billy Jack thought about Sapphire and blanched. He was going to comment but held back. He didn't know what to say; then it came to him. "Do I get first dibbies on pretendin'?"
"Sure, Billy Jack. What are you going to be?"
"An all-day sucker! One of those hard caramel ones that pulls your fillings out of your teeth."
"And what if I was an all-day sucker wrapper?"
"Gee, then I guess you'd have to wrap yourself all around me. But I was hopin' you were were going to be a nice little girl who loved to lap on suckers...."
"So I shall be, then! But I'm a kinky little girl. I put all kinds of things into my little bottom, then you suck on them."
Billy Jack felt the first wave of nausea wash over him just then, but he flooded it with a gulp of gin and tonic. Golly damn, he thought, some of these women are sure enough rotten to the core! He could just imagine what she was talking about.
They danced, feeling each other out and drinking more and more. Billy Jack noticed a strange thing about his woman at that moment, and he was annoyed about it. She was something of a bitch who acted like a two-bit whore. She had a dirty mouth and she grabbed too much. Besides, she was a drunken slob.
He pushed himself away from her and sneered. "Listen, you: are we going to piss the whole afternoon away or are you going to suck my cock?"
"I beg your pardon?"
"I said, are you going to suck my cock?"
Sandra's mind was prepared for a good time in bed, but she didn't like to be treated like a whore by some backwoods character, so she tried to spin away from him and run for the door. She was horrified. Was this man going to rape her? Rape Mrs. Edmund S. Stevenson? It was too horrible-everything had gone wrong.
"Eat me!" Billy Jack growled.
Sandra struggled to escape as if Billy Jack were a monster.
"Get on your Goddamned knees and suck my cock!"
"I, I can't. Can't you understand?"
"I understand that you're a Goddamned prick teaser and you're going to suck my cock or you'll wish you had, you bitch!"
Sandra Stevenson's eyes were fastened on Billy Jack, and all of a sudden she threw her head back and split the silence with a scream. It sounded as if she was getting killed.
Billy Jack couldn't believe it. He leaped forward and slapped his cupped hand over her mouth and wrestled her to the floor.
"Shut up, you crazy bitch! You'll wake the dead!"
He banged the back of her head against the floor because she tried to bite his hand; then she went limp and he knew she was out like a light.
Billy Jack didn't give a damn. The bartender would say that she picked him up. He dragged her into the bedroom and lifted her up and laid her across the bed so that her knees were at the edge and her feet touched the floor. He flung the hem of her dress up and pulled her black panties down, leaving her garter belt and nylons on. She had a cunt, all right. He could see that.
Then he thought, well fuck a duck, what am I doing? Old Stevenson's gonna can my ass for sure for buggerin' his old lady after I knock her out. Well, done's done! May as well have me a little bit of upper-class cunt, now that the damage's done!
He stepped back and looked down at the quiet figure lying on the bed. Mrs. Stevenson, conqueror of men. And she was out as cold as an iced codfish. He stroked his cock.
Then it occurred to him that he would teach her a lesson. He'd fuck her silly, just jam it up and rip her out. Fine. His prick jumped up at the idea-it was ready.
It was about time she learned a lesson-high time!
He unbuckled his belt and dropped his pants.
Then he pulled his knit sport shirt over his head and bent to remove his shorts. He stopped and looked down once again. Her cunt was wet and the lips were red and ready, hiding there under the curly black pubic hairs. His cock was standing out like an arm, the head was a fist.
Bending forward, he spread her legs apart until her thighs were spread wide enough for him to ease himself in comfortably. Then he crawled between her legs and guided the large meatus of his prick between the damp lips of her quiet twat.
She was good and tight, but the harder he jammed his cock in, the hotter he got.
With one forceful thrust he jammed his pulsing tool halfway into her wet but tight cunt. The lips were swollen and clasped at his shaft!
He was watching to see if she moved, but she was dead to the world.
"Well, find and dandy," he said, and pulled his hips back in position for the killing blow. He held her ass up with his two hands and gritted his teeth. Then, with all the strength he had, he slammed forward and sank his cock all the way up her cunt until his balls were slapping against the crack of her ass. Looking down, he could see it was all the way in, so he reached forward and unbuttoned the front of her blouse. She was wearing a flesh-colored bra, and he slid this over her tits and grabbed and squeezed them furiously as he pumped his loaded cock in and out of her cunt. The sucking sound was driving him crazy, and he began to ram her twat with all he had, holding her down and back with his hands on her melon-sized tits. She didn't blink or move a muscle and he continued fucking her, slamming her harder than he'd ever done before. Prick teaser, huh? Well, he smiled, I'll show you what prick teasers get where I come from!
He smiled more broadly as he heard the rhythmic squeaking of the bed, and he tried his hardest to make the bed squeak as loud as it could. He was falling heavily on her, and the bed groaned. His hands were brutally grabbing at the firm yet soft mounds of tit on her chest, and he thought about strapping her down for a few hours, reviving her and really fixing her ass. But he continued to throw himself down on the woman's sucking cunt, harder every time.
Norma Jean was happy as she stepped out of the elevator. Her job looked like a sure thing and she was going to have a late breakfast with Mr. Steinbloch the next morning, while Billy Jack was at another conference. Irving was finally happy. And Norma Jean knew that was good. Now all she wanted was a nice drink and a short nap. She'd been burned out there and would have to put some stuff on her seat.
She walked into the living room and stopped dead. Woman's shoes! In the middle of the floor! She quietly turned and opened the door and checked the number. She looked at her key. Well, she said to herself, somebody is sure enough in my room! She returned very quietly and listened. A squeaking noise from the bedroom!
She walked quietly to the door and peered in with only one eye and she almost screamed. Billy Jack was fucking a woman right there on the bed! Just like a common animal, fuckin' away for all he was worth, jus' like some bandy old goat! Just like a man, she thought. It occurred to her to bash him with the gin bottle, but she decided to watch.
She'd never seen him so wild. And the woman was just like a corpse under him. His back was to her and she couldn't see who the woman was, but, she said to herself, whoever she is, she's one bum lay. Probably eating bon-bons or maybe she fell sound asleep. Norma Jean felt like laughing, watching the poor jerk fucking away on a woman sound asleep.
But the longer she watched the madder she got. She walked into the room, very softly and watched. My God, she said to herself, she's dead! She wondered if Billy Jack had screwed her to death, but she knew better. Maybe he's practiced his insurance pitch on her. That was quicker than chloroform for putting somebody under. Boy, she thought, Billy Jack sure is mean to her.
She watched until she couldn't stand it any more. That old dead woman was getting something she wanted, and she yelled out, "Billy Jack, what y'all doin' on that poor old dead lady?"
Without missing a stroke he said, "I'm a'fuckin' her, stupid. What does it look like?"
"But why you fuckin' her?"
"Because it beats fuckin' you, you cheap whore."
"Now, Billy Jack, that's no way to be talkin' to your wife."
"I saw you in the boat, you cocksucker. Now, beat it or my prick will die and I'll have to whup you a good one."
"Billy Jack, you're sure fuckin' that one good and proper. How come you don't do me like that?"
"Scat-you're botherin' my erection and distrackin' me!"
"Billy Jack? I got good news for you. That man in the boat is a Hollywood man, Billy Jack, and he's gonna give me a seven-year contract...."
"For what, suckin' his skinny little cock? I hope you took him up on it. I don't have to hear your silly-ass voice when you got your stupid mouth occupied with a skinny little prick. Now, get yo' skinny ass out of here or I'll tear outta this bitch and into you, heah?"
Norma Jean walked over and sat on the bed beside Sandra's head. She picked up the rhythm and began bouncing along with it. She was watching her husband's prick slamming in and out of the woman's cunt. "Billy Jack? This is Mrs. Stevenson, i'n'nt it?"
"Yes! Now, shut up, I'm trying to make it."
"Billy Jack, how'd she get unconscious-she ain't dead, is she?"
"I hit her on the head like I'm going to hit you on the head when I'm through with her. Now shut yer damn mouth for a minute. I can feel it comin'."
"Billy Jack? Can I sit me on her face and make it along with y'all? I'm sexy. Then we can fuck us one time, Billy Jack."
"Sit on her, but shut yer damn mouth. And hurry!" He was pumping now, and beads of sweat were pouring down his forehead. He'd had eight orgasms so far, and trying for the ninth while having to look at Norma Jean was going to be a tall order. Then he saw her lift her dress and pull it off. She pulled her bathing suit off and climbed up and knelt and lowered her cum-sticky cunt on Mrs. Stevenson's face. The sight of that made Billy Jack shoot off right away and he slammed down and shot his shaft all the way up until he was sure he'd broken something in her stomach. And he emptied his nuts into her and hoped that she'd get damned good and pregnant. Serve her right. He had emptied himself and was still hard-he couldn't believe it!
"Norma Jean, you vile slut, while you're a'humpin' on that poor lady's face hold these legs up, will you? I'm gonna fuck her one in the asshole. He spread the sticky cum from her cunt down an inch and covered her tight asshole with the milky juice. Then he pointed his finger, took aim, and shot it right in up to the hand. "Now," he said, "I've greased her track. I'm gonna cut her one new asshole. What you smilin' about? You're next!"
Norma Jean looked at her husband and she thought she might have had him all wrong.
Sapphire walked over to empty out the cigarette butt pot between the handsome Latin-looking devil and the pale Northern girl. "Scuse me, sir," she said, "I didn't mean to bump y'all. Say, ain' you that fay-muss Eye-talian movie mongrel, Vittorio sum'pin?"
Loxley's eyebrow and mustache curled in unison at the intrusion. "No, but perhaps you saw me last time you were at La Scala in Milan? I played Tosetti Virgolesi...."
Sapphire's eyes widened. "I jes knowed I seed you, yass suh!" She slapped his hand and moved on, chuckling to herself.
A puzzled expression swept over Loxley's face as he fingered the small folded piece of paper the Negro woman had slapped into his hand. "Excuse me, Debbie," he said. "I'll bring us more Coke."
Once away he read the note. "Room 216 at six. I have what you want. Bring no money but come prepared for a ball."
CHAPTER SEVEN
At six o'clock there was a discreet rap on the door of room 216. Loxley stood in the hallway, wondering just what was going to happen. The mysterious note said to be prepared for a ball. That could mean almost anything. So Loxley was prepared for anything. And the door swung open. "Come on in." He didn't know the voice; it was low, sultry and female.
A little tingle of expectancy always came to Loxley's scrotum when he was invited into a strange dark room by a young woman. He'd done this type of thing more than once and had usually managed to end up in bed. He was thinking of this as he entered.
After having spent two hours with the young girl from college to get her jollies off, he was a pooped-out cat but he was never too pooped out to get his nuts off once more.
He narrowed his eyes as he tried to adjust to the darkness of the room and all he could see was a candle flickering. Then he whistled softly as he saw her. She was lying on the bed right below a long mirror, as naked as the day she was born.
As his eyes adjusted, his prick began to tremble. Loxley preferred young girls, true, but standing there, looking down at what he had thought was a dull and fat old lady, he knew he'd been hasty. Ellen Speakman had a great figure in any man's book. Her eyes were closed and she was breathing deeply. Loxley watched her breasts rise and fall with her rhythmic breathing, and his hand, in his right pocket, moved over to touch his trembling cock.
He was still watching Ellen's sleeping form when he remembered the voice and he asked, "Who's here? Where are you?"
He turned toward the direction of the low and husky voice. "I'm right here." A short, thin and very young girl walked into the candlelight and stood beside the bed. She, too, was naked.
Now Loxley's cock really jumped. The young girl was stirring him, something that always happened when he was face to face with a naked girl in a dark room. She was about fourteen-or maybe less. Her frame was slight and white, and two small tits about the size of lemons were beginning to form on her chest. Her belly was flat, something Loxley really liked, and she was just beginning to grow a small and fine patch of golden hair down by her cunt. Her legs were thin, apart at the thighs, meeting at the knees and calves and then slightly apart again at the ankles. But her eyes were the attraction that really stunned Loxley. They were large, dark and sad-eyes that had seen everything, eyes that would promise anything.
"Who are you?"
"My name is Carol. Carol Johnson."
"Carol?" Loxley repeated. "I'm Bill to my friends. What are we supposed to do here?" He was becoming uncomfortable. It was pretty obvious what he was going to do, but he always liked to ask first, just to make sure. And he wished there were more light.
"You can do anything you want to do," came Carol's expressionless reply. Her eyes bored into him. She might have been twelve, Loxley thought, surveying her tits. Young girls were so pure, so innocent, so sexy. It was much more fun to fuck the innocent ones. Loxley had screwed so many worldly wise women-none of them ever thought it was nasty. They all loved it just for the screwing.
But little girls always made a big deal out of even the smallest fuck. They acted as though they were going to get struck by lightning, and this made Loxley enjoy the forbidden fruit all the more. If it's easy, after all, it isn't worth much. Nasty fucks were always the best fucks, regardless of the woman-an old lady just didn't understand about that, usually.
"Anything?" Loxley replied. He looked from the young girl to the unconscious figure of Ellen Speakman. Both would be nasty fucks. The best, in fact. Now his balls were going crazy. He was going to get to fuck Ellen Speakman, the world's most famous virgin. And he'd also throw a fuck into the child.
But this was not the time to stand around, and his hand moved down and touched Ellen's flat stomach. He then felt her tits with both hands, and his cock was all the way up, ready for action. The large mounds were firm and smooth and the nipples slowly grew to life as he massaged them. Massaging and rolling nipples on large tits always got to him and would bring him to the point of being really ready.
He looked at the young girl as his hands rubbed and felt the older woman's large and firm tits. What a difference, he thought, and motioned for the young girl to come over to him. She did and he reached out and touched one of her tits as his other hand continued to rub those of the other woman. "Are you a virgin?"
"No," she said, "but she is." The child pointed and moved closer to Loxley. She unzipped his fly and pulled his trembling cock out of his pants.
Oh oh, he thought, now I know for sure. He couldn't believe the older woman was really a virgin, despite what people said, and his finger moved down and swept over the tangle of soft pubic hairs on the base of her stomach. She had moist lips and his finger slid in readily. The young girl was slowly jacking him off, her large eyes watching his finger with great interest.
His finger moved slowly up and into the cunt and explored the tight wet walls; then he touched it-her membrane. By God, he said to himself, she is a virgin!
Having a chance at a cherry was too much, and he thought he was going to come right in the young girl's hand. It had been a busy afternoon. The other girl was not quite as small-chested as Carol, but she'd been a terror in bed, the kind of fuck he really liked. He'd had her rolled in a ball and fucked her down. Then he'd been on his back with her on top, lowering her cunt down on his prick. They'd done it dog-fashion and, as he was leaving, he gave her a wall job. Wall jobs were the best when there was a need to hurry or you had to fuck in public places.
Now this cunt was rippling around his finger, just like it was alive. But the woman didn't move a muscle. She was dead to the world and didn't bat an eye as Loxley pressed against her cherry. And the young girl pumped away on his cock. The head was getting big and red and his balls were beginning to get nervous.
"Do you want me to fuck you first?" he asked the girl.
"No, I'd like you to finger me while I watch you pop her cherry. I'll straddle her with my cunt aiming at you. Here's a pillow." He took the pillow she offered him and put it under Ellen's ass. This elevated her cunt so it was aiming upward. The scene was set and he stepped away to survey it.
Dropping his slacks and taking them off, he next removed his shorts. His cock was standing out like a spear and it twitched nervously. The thought of fucking this woman, plucking her long-guarded cherry was enough to make him come immediately. And he watched as the small girl climbed up and straddled the other. Her arms and legs were spread out and her little tits hung down just slightly. Her cunt and asshole were in plain view.
He climbed in between Ellen's spread legs and poised his cock against the hairy crack of her cunt. Rubbing the prick up and down against her crack was enough to drive any man crazy, for she was a real live virgin, about to have her virginity lifted. And her cunt was going to be nice and tight. He put the head of his cock against the hole and pushed slightly. It was too tight, and refused to admit him.
He thrust two fingers into the cunt and worked them around, bringing moisture to the opening. Then he pressed his prick onto the moist passage once again and pushed gently. It popped in and was held by the cunt in a vise-like grip. Man, was she tight. He pushed forward, wiggling his cock slightly as he did. She was so tight it almost hurt, but the sex drive took control as it always did in such situations, and he pushed harder and harder, not able to think about anything else. Having a prick in a virgin cunt is like nothing else in the world and he pressed harder, looking at his long and thick cock as it was jamming its way into the untouched cunt. It was only halfway in. Now he was really excited-what man wouldn't be? The sight of his cock in that woman's cunt would boil anybody's blood.
He thrust in and began to pull out, almost coming completely out. Then, slowly and deliberately, he'd thrust in again. It was beginning to work more smoothly. He'd pull out and thrust in. Now her track was greased and he removed his hands and began to play with the white globes of Carol's buttocks as he continued in and out of the unconscious woman's cunt. It was a dizzying thing, fucking an old lady while playing with a naked girl child, and the thought of the old lady being a virgin besides, almost made him come immediately. He continued pumping and shot one of his fingers into the young girl's asshole. Like all young girls, she loved it.
Every girl he knew liked to have a finger stuck up her seat. Loxley knew this as well as he knew his own name. Chicks really got turned on to anything, if only you could do that. And he knew now he could do anything he wanted with the young one.
Just then the tip of his cock, thrusting deep inside Ellen's cunt, touched the cherry. He put his thumb into Carol's cunt and had his index finger in her asshole. It was cherry-picking time and he set his jaw. The best of all possible fucks was about to be his, and he pulled his hips back and thrust forward with all his might. Bang, he hit it and stopped dead. It was a tight, strong cherry and it didn't want to break. He banged at it again and again, pulling all the way back and thrusting forward like a battering ram. And, with one brutal thrust, he smashed through it and sank into the hot wetness of her belly. He looked down. His cock was all the way in, in to the balls, being clasped by the wet hot meat that had never been touched by a prick before.
Then a thought hit him as his cock was buried deep inside her. Does she take the pill? Will she get pregnant-will I knock her up? He thought he might, and the possibility made his head spin. Screw it, he said to himself, I live two thousand miles from her. Probably never see her again, and anyway, who's going to tell her I fucked her? None of these people know my real name.
A new lust-craze spread over him, the old feeling one gets when one is fucking a girl and decides to punish her. He liked her well enough. She'd never done anything bad to him, but she was a woman and a woman's only place is flat on her back. Her only job is fucking or sucking. And this one was finally being fucked. Her cherry was gone now. It was time to fertilize!
No man on earth would give up now! The cunt was calling, begging to be filled with cum. Somebody had to do it.
He began a slow, rhythmic pounding ... in and out, in and out. The wet cunt was clasping at his prick, and the sucking sounds it made caused the child-girl to turn around and watch. He grabbed one of her tits and she smiled at him. Then she watched as the old lady got her fucking. The huge prick was sliding in and out, and it looked as if it were going up into the woman's stomach higher than her belly button. He had a good prick, and like all men, he knew where to put it. The more he fucked the larger his prick got.
All at once he felt his rumbling orgasm coming, and he thought about what he was doing. Screwing an unconscious woman into pregnancy while she was unconscious and fingering a young girl at the same time. There wasn't a blemish on the child's skin, and her cunt was small and tight-much smaller than the tight cunt his prick was plowing at that very minute. "Here we go, Ellen; name it after someone else!"
The cum was being pumped out by his balls and he was thrashing into the pussy faster and faster. Then it hit and he jammed forward against Ellen Speakman's cunt and strained, shooting his stream of juice far into her, splashing it against her very stomach, sending it up her tubes. His balls pumped and pumped as he lay rigid against the old lady. And he ground his finger and his thumb deep into the child's two holes.
The next two hours passed pleasantly for him. Carol, the youngster, was a true nymphomaniac. She could take his cock all the way down her throat, all the way up her cunt, or all the way into her asshole. She sat on his cock and jumped up and down, ramming the throbbing tool deep in her rectum. He would like to adopt a child like this-someone to keep him calm and someone to fuck every night. He'd been married once and it was a bummer. Wives, he thought. With them the screwing you get just ain't worth the screwing you get. All his buddies agreed.
He fell asleep in Carol Johnson's arms.
Beyond the mirror, Sapphire, Pistol, Ronnie and Monica were all having a party of their own as they watched the trio in 216 fuck like animals. Sapphire and Ronnie had finally become good friends and had worked out a territorial business agreement. They sealed the bargain with a tremendous fuck-Ronnie on his back screwing Sapphire as he fingered Pistol and ate Monica. Monica's juices had covered his face and brought him to erection after erection. He'd fucked her twice and corn-holed Pistol while massaging her rock-hard tits.
He couldn't believe his eyes as he watched the three girls form a daisy-chain and eat each other to orgasm after orgasm. He almost understood about Lesbians, but when his prick rose, all three girls were eager to have it sticking into them anywhere. Well, he stuck it everywhere and was exhausted by ten o'clock.
Now, lying amidst the various naked bodies on the large bed, he thought about his job. The pay wasn't good, but his side-line business was fine and that pay was good. And the fringe benefits were great. His hand slowly moved from his stomach and went to his side, then out. He touched Sapphire and found her tremendously large tits. Feeling tits tha big almost drove him crazy, and his large hands couldn't come close to covering even one tit. Then he moved his hand down, over the large but firm stomach. Then he was in the thick forest of her pubic patch and down to her cunt.
He smiled. This is just too much, he said to himself. He couldn't understand Sapphire's cunt. How could it be so tight when he was screwing her and so loose and open when she was relaxed? He didn't know if she was asleep or not but he started working his hand up into her. He wriggled down so he could have a better position. His other hand found Monica's tit.
First, he inserted his four fingers into Sapphire's huge cunt. They slowly went in, being sucked up by the enormous cunt. How many cocks have thundered up this hole? he wondered. Thousands, probably. His fingers were in up-to the hand, then he pressed his thumb against his hand and pushed upward. It was a tight fit but he pushed gently up and was amazed to find he was going to make it. He felt Sapphire's huge hand come down and hold his wrist and begin to push it. She was helping him, and the large bulk of her body was beginning to squirm and writhe. She was groaning and trying to help him get his whole hand up.
Ronnie had never felt anything like it in his life. Imagine a whole hand up a cunt! He tried to wriggle it up and it was tight, but he was making progress. Finally his whole hand was in-up to the wrist.
He felt around in there, moving his fingers as much as he could. Her cunt walls were hot and wet and they were also ridgy. The hard little ridges seemed to ripple and tingle against the skin of his hand.
Suddenly he felt a hand around the base of his stiff prick, then the hand started moving up and down, slowly and firmly. The tip of his cock was covered by something warm and wet, and he knew Pistol was sucking his cock. He thought she'd been asleep. The insane tickling and nibbling of her tongue and teeth on the head and shaft of his cock were driving him to another orgasm, and the feeling of his whole damned hand in that cavernous cunt was making things worse. He twisted his hand in the cunt and jammed it up higher, unable to believe how far he could go.
Sapphire was whimpering and writhing and she started to contract her cunt muscles as Ronnie thrust his hand up and down in her cunt. His arm was rubbing her monster clitoris and he was driving the three-hundred-pound woman completely insane. Her huge hands were around Fonnie's waist and she was rubbing his body just exactly as if she were jacking it off. She was moaning and thrashing and her cunt muscles were contracting with such force that Ronnie wondered if he'd get stuck up there. Still he moved his hand around and rubbed his forearm against her clitoris.
Then, without warning, his explosion released and Pistol knew it because she pumped him furiously as she took his cock deep into her mouth. The orgasm was perfect. She sucked his cock dry and pumped his balls as he stiffened and arched into her. She certainly knew how to suck a cock.
Sapphire got her orgasm at the same time he did and she almost broke the bed with her wild thrashing. She mumbled words Ronnie couldn't understand and clamped his hand like a vise as she stiffened and clasped him to her body. His face was against her large tits and he sucked her nipple into hardness as they arched in orgasm.
Ronnie had seen both Pistol and Sapphire walking around but he had no idea things like this went on in their rooms every night. He smiled. I thought I had a good deal-screwing women for a buck. But these people have an organization! Who ever would have thought Sapphire would be such a wild fuck? Just goes to show, you never can tell. I'll have to be careful or I'll fuck myself completely out and be beat by the time I'm twenty!
Monica was sound asleep on the other side of Pistol. Ronnie had wanted to fuck her all afternoon and he got to do it! Now he and three broads were all stretched out on a king-sized bed. He had been invited to spend the night. And he had accepted. Who wouldn't?
CHAPTER EIGHT
At breakfast the following morning Mr. and Mrs. Stevenson were seated alone having coffee, toast and orange juice. Their conversation was dry-the conversation of two strangers who didn't particularly like each other. But they liked each other pretty well-they were merely very badly hung-over.
A blank silence had descended on the table, and Edmund was daydreaming about his new traveling secretary when a pleasant male voice broke into his thoughts. "Aren't you Mr. Stevenson of Monolith Mutual Life?"
He looked up and smiled. "Yes, sir." He stood.
"Of course you don't know me, but I'm Lou Martin; that lady at the table is Linda, my wife. We asked at the desk and they pointed you out to us...."
Stevenson wondered what the deal was, but he smiled.
"We're policyholders...."
"Oh, of course, Mr. Martin! You're protected by the Monolith! That's great. Really great! Where are you folks from?"
"We're from way up North-Idaho. Down for some sun...."
"Idaho? Good heavens, do you know our Ellen Speakman?"
"Mrs. Speakman? Of course we do. She wrote our policy. Honey, they know Mrs. Speakman." He smiled and turned to Stevenson once again. "Is she here? In Miami?"
"Yes, of course, but I don't know where she is at the moment. She should be down shortly. By the way, who is the other couple you're sitting with? Are they from Idaho?"
"They are Mr. and Mrs. Sandeen, my sister and brother-in-law. Good prospects for your group here, by the way. They've just picked a sheep ranch and could use some insurance. Maybe we'll see Mrs. Speakman and she can talk to them."
"Well," Stevenson laughed, "you certainly shall see Ellen. We're throwing a cocktail party in the ballroom at four this afternoon ... please come. It's informal: no ties. Can you and your group make it?"
"A cocktail party? Why, heck yes! Thanks. We'll be there at four, and if you see our friend, tell her we're in room 820. She should drop up and say hello."
"I'll certainly tell her, Mr. Martin."
"Lou."
"Right, Lou. And this is Sandy. Call me Ed."
The group smiled and Martin left with a wide smile on his face. He returned to his friends with news of a cocktail party and the fact that Ellen Speakman was at the convention. Lou liked Ellen-there was something about her, but he didn't quite know what it was. She was such a woman. Old, but a real woman.
Bob and Marilyn Sandeen studied the menu and Bob sneered. "My God, sixty cents for a crummy glass of orange juice! Toast, six bits! Coffee, two bits with refills at fifteen cents. Goddamn! We should have gone to the State Park with our own stuff."
"Everything's expensive these days, honey," Marilyn said.
"Ain't it the truth!" Lou added. "A guy can make ten thousand a year and still be hard up. It's crazy. How can someone get ahead? Damned if I can figure it."
Linda sipped her coffee and looked at Bob. He looked like a young and rugged Paul Newman, with wavy brown hair and piercing blue eyes. Short and husky, he was one of the better-looking men around. She wished he wasn't her brother-in-law. Being in the same car with him for a week had lowered her resistance to the point where she didn't have it any more. He could touch her, just touch her, and she'd fall down at his feet.
She remembered when she had first met Bob. It was at his and Marilyn's wedding party. He was wearing a tuxedo and white carnation and looked like a movie star. Linda wondered about that. She knew that any man who'd go to the bother of renting a tuxedo to attend a party was absolutely irresistible. Something about a tuxedo made any woman's blood run hot, and any man who'd wear one was bound to make out like a bandit-no matter what he looked like.
Then she looked at Bob again. He really wasn't so good-looking, but the memory of him in the formal suit would always stay with her. What a night that was! Everybody had gotten a bit drunk and there was quite a bit of kissing going on as the party wore on. She remembered Bob's kiss.
They were in the bedroom and she was lying on the bed, her head spinning like a lathe from all the champagne. It was only California champagne, but it tasted great and had really bombed everybody out. Her head was hazy, and suddenly the door opened. It was Bob. He was looking for the bathroom. He had just stood beside the bed, smiling. Then he had leaned down quickly and kissed her on the mouth-their tongues meeting. The very thought of French-kissing with Bob made her hands tremble. How awful to neck with your brother-in-law! But she knew lots of women who did that, and she knew plenty who even slept with their brothers-in-law. But he still turned her on.
There was the time she'd never told anybody about. She even blushed when she thought about it. Bob's younger brother, Bruce, was visiting from Tacoma. Lou was hunting that weekend. Bruce had dropped over, hoping to find Lou so they could go out and sight-in Bruce's new high-powered rifle.
Bruce played football for his college and was young, strong and handsome. And he just loved beer. They'd spent the whole afternoon drinking Olympia and Coors, and by five o'clock they were both silly, lying on the living-room floor and watching the Wide World of Sports on TV. She was only twenty-two then, three long years ago. Bruce was only twenty but he was mature and had a good sense of humor.
They'd laughed and joked about everything. Linda was so happy to have company because she was thirty miles from the next place-old Trowbridge's spread. It didn't occur to her what she was doing. She thought Bruce would leave at nine or ten. But they kept on drinking beer, lying there on the living-room floor. And they watched television. For a while. Then they only pretended to watch television and started watching each other. Bruce had the same eyes as Bob and the same confident smile. Right then he looked like the most handsome man in the world.
She remembered saying something funny and he laughed and mussed her hair. That's how it all started, so innocently. He just mussed her hair, but the contact was electric. Then they both stopped laughing and just stared at each other. There wasn't a hint of humor or jest about the look. And Bruce's hand was still in her hair.
He crawled up beside her and kissed her passionately, pulling her eager body to his. She couldn't breathe, she was so hot, and her hands went inside his shirt and madly grasped at and clutched his smooth body. She remembered his hand moving up her leg from her knee, and she thought she was going to die when he touched her pussy. He was so gentle, yet so confident.
His hand touched her pussy; then his fingers sneaked under the elastic band of her panties and touched her again. They were soft, slow and gentle and sent fire shooting through her ready body when they touched her clitoris. He knew it and started to rub the little button. She remembered' how she writhed, how she had to kiss him, hold him, suck his fingers into her hot and ready cunt. Nothing mattered then but a man, a prick, a fuck.
She was wearing a cotton dress-an inexpensive thing she wore to clean the house. And Bruce was having trouble with it. Everything was so slow, so frustrating. She needed him, had to have him, but she wanted to be fucked hard, punished, raped and treated brutally. She had to have all of him. "Tear it off!" she cried. She'd never been so hot in her life and she'd been married almost three years.
Bruce tore the dress off and also tore the brassiere. He was beside himself with passion and drunk on beer. But she had asked for it and he was prepared to help her out. Now he had her on the floor, completely naked, and his hands flew over her body ... touching, probing, squeezing and clutching. Her body was smooth and firm, unblemished and vibrant. Her tits were perfect-smooth mounds crested with pink nipples.
He had to taste her tits, and his face fell onto the two full mounds, his mouth sucking hungrily. She responded by tangling her hands in his hair and pulling him toward her-pulling him down so he could be more brutal, more sensual, more satisfying.
Bruce was mad with lust, and his cock was jumping furiously. The thought of screwing his older brother's friend's wife was so good, so exciting. He'd had his eye on her for a long time and, deep down inside, he really wanted to have her. But it never occurred to him that she'd go for the idea. And he had no idea she was so wild and lusty. She wanted it badly and she wanted it any way he wanted to give it to her. She was, he thought, the perfect whore-a wife who was sexy as hell and who wanted to be fucked good and proper. And Bruce smiled grimly: he was her boy!
But Bruce couldn't believe what she was doing to him. She had one hand in the crack of his ass, knifing it up and down, while she thrust back and forth on his prick with her other hand. Then, unable to control herself any longer, she moved down, taking his cock and balls in both hands, and as he watched, began to kiss and lick them. Satisfied, she jammed his cock into her mouth and moved her body up so that her cunt was right next to his face.
Bruce knew what she wanted, and he moved slowly toward her. Her pussy was beautiful and it smelled clean-like freshly washed wilderness sex. Fair's fair, he thought, and touched the smooth lips of her luscious twat with his tongue. Yes, he thought, it is good, and his hands went around her ass and he pulled her strongly against his face and jammed his tongue far up into her pussy as he jerked and twitched at what she was doing with his cock.
His finger found her asshole and his belly pressed against her firm tits. She was a past-master at sucking cocks, he thought, and he started massaging her growing clitoris with his lips and tongue. It was a hot connection, in two ways, and Bruce smiled to himself: sixty-nine is really fifty-fifty!
He tried to get away from her as his climax started building, but she held him tight, thrusting her pussy more firmly against his face as she squirmed. And he knew what she wanted. Bruce had never come in a girl's mouth before and he started to get uptight, but she gnawed and nibbled at the same time she jacked him off, so he couldn't help it-the gush just came, and it came with a fury.
And hers matched his. She was milking his balls and slamming up against him. Then she exploded and wrapped her legs around his head and pulled him down with all her strength. They had two crashing orgasms, and Bruce liked it. It was the first time he'd ever been involved in something like that: two people fucking with their mouths!
By Sunday afternoon they were both beat. In a day and a half she'd had more orgasms than she'd had in her life. And Bruce couldn't believe how he could get erection after erection. She was having three or four orgasms to his one, he thought, and he'd had about thirty or so. His prick was good and sore by the time he jumped into his pickup truck and left.
Now Linda sat, her eyes dazed, looking at Bob while the others talked about insurance and Florida. She didn't really give a darn about Florida or insurance-she was horny. The recollection of what she and Bruce had done that Saturday and Sunday had turned her on and there was an itch in her pussy.
An hour later Lou and Marilyn, his sister, were sitting in the lobby talking with Ellen Speakman. They couldn't believe how good she looked after just two days in Miami. She told them it was the sun and short vacation, but they thought there was something about her eyes and the way she was smiling. She looked very good as she opened a small briefcase and pulled out some information about a policy. Both Bob and Linda had gone out for a swim. Marilyn was going to explain everything to Bob. And Ellen didn't care.
The sun was high and the waves were small out on the beach. And Bob and Linda were both standing in water that was up to their chins. Linda had never been in the ocean before and she was a bit afraid, especially when the waves would come in and she'd have to jump up to keep from being covered. They were alone in the water but the beach was crowded with people with red backs.
"Gosh, Bob," she said, "this is scary, isn't it?"
"Naw. It's just the ocean. Nothing to worry about."
"Aren't there any sharks or fish or something that bites?"
"Here? Are you kidding? There're no sharks this far in."
"You're sure?"
Bob had been watching Linda closely. She was a good-looking dish, and the bikini she was wearing showed almost everything she had. It crossed Bob's mind that she'd been kind of funny lately, touching him and looking at him with a far-away look in her eyes, and he decided to have some fun with her.
"Well, of course there're sharks and barracudas and other stuff, but they don't usually attack. They've lost only a few tourists to sharks here in the past year. Nothing to worry about as long as you stick close...."
Her eyes were wide and she forgot to look at the wave behind her. It completely covered her just as she was breathing in, and she drank half of the Atlantic and was knocked over, plowing into Bob.
His hands automatically reached out to grab her and, by accident, found her tits. But she was struggling against the water and not against him, so he left them there. After all, who was going to see? But he didn't know what he was in for. As he held her, her flailing hands found his cock, inside his bathing suit. Right there in the Atlantic she was jacking him off as she choked. And he was feeling one of her tits with one hand and pounding her back with his other. Then, at last, she stopped coughing and Bob's hand slipped down into the back of her bathing suit.
"Bob," Linda said, her hand pumping up and down on his ready cock, "we shouldn't. Not here."
"Why not?"
"What if somebody sees?"
"Let 'em see. So what? Besides, you're the one who's...."
She blushed but continued pumping his cock slowly with a maddening rhythm. And he continued massaging one of her large and firm tits while his other hand felt the smooth globes of her ass. Her eyes were sparkling and she was, at that moment, one of the most beautiful women Bob had ever seen, even with her short hair plastered to her head with sea water. She had the look of a woman in love-or a woman on the make. That certain look was in her eyes-that look that's so hard to misunderstand. Any man can recognize the look, and Bob did. He increased his activity, bringing his hand under her bottom and putting his finger into her wet twat.
"Oooohhh, Bob," she groaned. "We have to go somewhere...."
He knew it and stopped playing with her to move away. Walking across the belt of white sand where everybody could easily see his monster hard-on would hardly be the thing to do.
Fifteen minutes later he was at the desk asking for another room, explaining it was only for two days. When the desk clerk looked puzzled, Bob explained he and his wife were having a small spat and he wanted to spend some time by himself. The desk clerk smiled: he understood. He'd seen Bob come in with the other member of their party and everything was clear to him. He rented another room.
While they took the elevator to their new room, Bob was buzzing with anticipation and he couldn't keep his prick down. Then they were alone in the room.
Linda walked to the window, feeling like a whore. What could she do? Lou was pretty cold and didn't satisfy her. He was too busy with his work and hunting even to notice her. She didn't know if she liked to be fucked or not, but she did know she had to be fucked. She needed it, at least once in a while. And it had been almost a month now. She studiously avoided glancing at Bob.
Bob circled her with his hands, his prick bulging out.
"I think old Lou is stuck on Speakman," he said, shaking his head.
Linda nodded without looking up. "He doesn't have a thing on me-I'm stuck on you, Bob. And I'm sorry-it's so wrong...."
"It's not wrong-it's natural. I've seen the way he's been avoiding you. After all, you are a human being-you are normal. All normal women need a little every now and then."
Bob turned her away from the window and aimed her at the large bed, but neither of them made a move to climb in. He wanted to go to bed badly enough, and he inwardly cursed himself for not trying to release her from her feelings of wrong-doing. But it was her problem and she'd have to work it out for herself. And he had a sneaking hunch that Lou and Marilyn probably were fucking. Was that strange? A brother-and-sister act? Bob frowned and thought about the time he'd got his wife good and drunk and she'd told him everything about it. It was undoubtedly the roughest thing he'd ever heard in his life. Yeah, he thought, III tell Linda. That'll warm her up.
They walked slowly to the bed. Bob was the picture of a gentleman. He didn't touch her except on the waist. Lightly.
"I guess you think I'm an awful prude," she said.
"No, hell no, Linda. But I think we both got a bum deal."
"Why do you say that?"
"Well, it's something that Marilyn told me one night, when she was blasted out of her mind. And Christ, the way she looked when she told me makes me think we're both saddled with a pair of nuts."
"What was it, Bob?" Linda knew it couldn't be worse than that time with Bruce.
"Lou and Marilyn used to ball each other."
A wave of shock crashed through Linda's body and the breath stuck in her lungs. She thought she was going to faint. "No!"
"Yes! They've been fucking each other ever since they were kids. Lou was twelve and Marilyn was nine when he took her cherry."
Linda was breathless and her eyes were wide as she stared at Bob with disbelief. "No!"
"Yes! And, as far as I know, they still dip in now and then."
Suddenly everything was clear to Linda. Now she knew why Lou and Marilyn were so close. She knew why he was so cold, especially when he'd come home from visiting Marilyn, checking up on her when Bob was away. "Bob, how do you know they still do? And don't you care?"
"Well, it should be as plain as the nose on your face that they still ball each other. You might not know this, Linda, but that husband of yours is a real ass bandit. A real hustler."
"That bastard!" she sneered. She thought about all the nights she'd gone to sleep alone and unsatisfied. He'd come to bed at one or two and had turned away from her. And, too, he always smelled so good and fresh after coming home late-just like he'd had a shower.
Her hands were clenching and unclenching as she stared at nothing. She was furious. "Will you tell me everything about it?"
Bob knew it was the right thing to do, even if it did blast two marriages. After all, he wasn't the one who'd fucked his sister. He didn't have a sister. Just a brother. And they'd never done anything. It was a bad thing to do. "Sure," he said.
Bob took a deep breath and exhaled with a heavy sigh. His hand moved to Linda's thigh and he began to talk.
"Their real father died when they were young, you know. Then Hilda married this Horace fellow and the two of them started traveling quite a bit. This left the kids alone, and Lou baby-sat."
"Some baby-sitter!" Linda snorted. She was mad. The thought of her husband actually fucking his little sister was chilling her blood and she thought she was going to scream. How could two people do something like that? It was incestuous! A strange tingle was creeping through her body. The thought of something like that was awful, horrendous, unspeakable-unthinkable! She was becoming sexy just thinking about it.
"Yeah. Well, they didn't start in on it for some time, of course. But one weekend when the old folks were in Vancouver, he and Marilyn were playing hide and seek. It was late and he'd turned out the lights in most of the house. He was hiding and Marilyn had to find him...."
"Oh, God! Where did he hide?"
"Well, according to Marilyn, he was in their parents' closet. She found him and he scared her; then he dragged her into the closet and closed the door. The first thing she knew her panties were off and he'd stuck his finger into her pussy."
"How terrible!"
"That's for sure! But what happened next was even worse. He tied her to the bed, nude. And he had her spread-eagled on her back. She was crying, she said, afraid of what she was in for, but he only laughed and tortured her by tickling her feet until she'd jerked so hard there were red welts on her wrists and ankles."
"What a fiend! I'm married to something like that?"
"You sure are! Well, anyway, he had this little prick sticking out and he made her suck him off, and, according to her, he blew off into her mouth two or three times. And she was nine, mind you!"
"Oh, God! I can't bear to listen to more! What happened then?" The little tingle was becoming a raging fire as she listened. The thought of a young brother tying his little sister to the bed and making her suck his cock while their parents were out of the country was just too awful.
"After she sucked him off he made her play with his cock until it was hard and, for a twelve-year-old, that ain't a very long time. When he was hard again he knelt between her legs and opened her little cunt with his fingers. It was hairless, of course, and fresh and pink. He lapped it until she was begging for him to stop. She was going crazy."
"And then...?"
"Then he put his cock against her tight little pussy and slowly pushed it in. She was crying like mad, and the more she cried the harder he pushed. He jammed it all the way up into her little belly and broke her cherry. She bled like a stuck pig and she said it hurt like hell."
"I can imagine...."
"But the funny thing is this: she started to like it! They were alone for three days after that and, according to her, they fucked like a pair of minks. She told me she just couldn't get enough, and she'd jam stuff into her pussy whenever Lou wasn't around. But Lou evidently took good care of her for the next few years. She never squealed on him. Except to me, and then she was drunk."
"God, how can you live with it? Didn't you get mad?"
"Hell, yes, I got mad! And I screwed the living daylights out of her. That's one thing about Marilyn-she's a real maniac in the sack. She just can't seem to get enough."
"Then she's just the opposite of Lou."
"Don't you believe it! He's the ass bandit of all time. And men can only spread themselves so thin. He's probably too screwed out to please you." Bob's prick was now standing straight up in his swimming trunks, tenting the material. He didn't even blush when he put Linda's hand on it.
"Now," she exploded. "Take them off, NOW! I have to have you!"
She pulled at the drawstring of his trunks and started to pull the still-damp garment down. She had to have him-she had to make up for her husband's sins and she had to fuck.
Bob stood and removed his shorts, then sat on the bed again. His hands were untying the back of Linda's bikini top and he was breathing heavily as he felt her hair in his lap. Then a shock went through his system as she began to kiss his stiff prick.
She kissed the entire shaft of his cock slowly and lovingly, then made an oval with her lips and took his whole cock into her mouth. She took the head into her throat and nibbled on the base of the shaft, right by his balls and belly. His hands coursed over her body and he removed her bikini bottom. Her smooth white ass was now exposed and he spread the cheeks and bent down, covering the crack with his face.
Linda was imagining she was Marilyn-nine years old, being raped by her big brother. She sucked the cock into hardness that was almost unimaginable and felt Bob's exploring tongue by her asshole. She wanted that, liked it and hoped he would go in.
And he did. Bob's tongue rolled into a spear and shot into her tight asshole while he fondled and massaged her tits. She was driving him crazy as she sucked his cock. But he didn't want to come in her mouth. He wanted to fuck her in the asshole. He thought she might object, but he wanted to do it anyway, so he pulled away.
"What's the matter?" she groaned.
"Lie on your stomach, Linda, will you?"
Oh, God, Linda thought, stretching out on her belly, he's going to stick me in the ass! Bruce was the only other man who'd ever done that and it had felt strange, but good. Now she was going to have it again.
"If you're going to do that, Bob, could I sit in your lap, facing you? I think that would be nice."
Bob's prick leaped at the suggestion. He got onto his back and Linda crawled over him and poised herself above his rigid cock. He watched as she lowered herself down and guided the tip to the snug opening. It was all wet and she jiggled her butt a bit as she forced herself down. Then he felt the head pop in. Oh, God, he thought, a corn-hole. Man, do I love to fuck chicks in the bunghole! Bob watched intently as his buddy's wife lowered herself down on his cock. Imagine plugging her in the shitter! It was too much! She was so tight it almost hurt and he looked at her face. Small beads of sweat had sprung out on her forehead and upper lip and her eyes were shut.
Now! he thought, and thrust up. Linda hadn't expected it, and her eyes opened wide. His cock was halfway in. She looked down at him and, with an answering lunge of her own, she jammed down all the way, taking the whole of his cock into her rectum. She smiled, Then she started a slow, rhythmic up-and-down movement on his cock and Bob sat up. Linda's legs moved out so they were over his, her feet behind him. He was stuck all the way inside her, and his hands reached out and began to fondle her tits. The nipples were still shriveled up from the cold ocean water and they stood out like pink tips on two little fingers. The tits were cold, white and firm and Bob thought they were perfect. It seemed to him he had a crazy new playmate.
Suddenly Linda fell back, so that she was lying on her back on Bob's legs. His prick, jammed into her asshole, pushed upward against the thin membrane between her rectum and pussy and she was in a state of agony and delight. He started thrusting in and out of her asshole and leaned forward to massage her tits as he did.
His orgasm came entirely too soon to suit him, and he shot off a gush of hot, sticky cum that almost made Linda faint. It was good-there's nothing like fucking a tight ass!
Bob and Linda spent the entire morning fucking and kissing. She was out of her mind ... like a child with a great new toy. And she just couldn't get enough of him, no matter what. But they had to stop at noon. Both of them were exhausted.
Linda had looked closely at Bob all the while. She was wondering if she should tell him about what she and Bruce had done, but she decided not to. May as well leave well enough alone, she thought.
CHAPTER NINE
Sandy Stevenson bent forward and fitted her tits into her black brassiere. She did it carefully and expertly, then arched back and snapped the fasteners on the straps. She snapped her garter belt and twisted it around. Next, her smooth and shapely legs received their nylons and she fastened them to the belt. The auburn bush covering her pussy was sticking out slightly below the black garter belt and she smiled and put a dab of powder on it.
";For Christ's sake, Sandra!" Ed muttered as he walked through the room, "who are you supposed to be? You're rigged up like a bull dyke. Where are your whips and boots?"
"Is a bull dyke something like a fruit, Edmund?" she asked, smiling coyly at her husband. "I'm sure you'd know that. "
He didn't even notice the snide remark. He looked at his wife. She was no Monica, but she wasn't bad. She had a nice little cunt for a forty-year-old, and her shape was better than most he'd seen. He felt like throwing a quick fuck into her before going down and meeting with the managers, but when he looked at the expression on her face he changed his mind. She was sneering haughtily.
He'd enjoyed Monica the day before and he was going to enjoy her many times in the near future-today, if possible. The good old days when Sandy was a real whore in bed were a thing of the past and it was time for a new playmate. He looked at her body again and shook his head sadly. Pity, he thought, she's so damned good-looking to be such a bitch. A superbitch, in fact.
"And what's wrong?" she asked, breaking the silence. "Is my poor torn-out body that bad?"
"No, sweet, not at all. By the way, do you need some money? You may as well go out and pick something up for yourself while I'm at the managers' meeting. Be back in time for the party. Wouldn't do for you to miss it."
"I'll be there. And yes, I could use a few dollars. I know just what I want and where to find it." She walked over to her husband to get the money. She looked at him. He was distinguished-looking, even if he was growing a paunch. And he was generous, as well. Too bad we don't make it much any more, she thought. He's not a bad guy. Stupid and dull, perhaps, but not bad. Interested in nothing but insurance. Over the hill-no sex drive left.
"Watch out for the lifeguard," he laughed, handing her two twenties.
Sandy almost fainted, but she tried hard not to show a reaction. "I'll watch out for him, all right."
"I noticed the way he's been giving you the eye. Can't say he has bad taste." He patted his wife on her bare butt and turned to leave. "Remember, four o'clock."
"Right. And don't you drink too much, either." She watched him leave the room. Then, when the door closed, she sighed heavily.
God, she thought, that was close. The mention of Ronnie, the sexy young rascal with his he-man prick, had made her lascivious hormones start flowing like a river in springtime!
God, how I want him, she thought.
Sandra got a fleeting inward vision of the handsome young lifeguard as he had crawled between her legs, but she fought down the impulse to call down to the swimming pool immediately. She also knew that he wouldn't be off duty until noon, and that was at least two hours away. She'd just have to sweat it out-hot cunt and all.
She lay idly back on the firm bed and spread her legs apart. She continued lazily moving her legs back and forth and smiled to herself. She wondered what Ed really knew about the lifeguard. It was not likely that he suspected anything except perhaps in a general way. He certainly had reason enough to be suspicious of her since that incident ten years ago when he was an area manager with that Nebraska life insurance company.
She smiled to herself. It always gave her a lewd thrill to think about the daisy-chain she had going in Omaha. She'd been balling fifteen of the new agents for almost a year before Ed got wise and everything went to hell.
She could never figure out why Ed hadn't demanded a divorce. Perhaps he was too proud to admit he had married a nympho and too glad of the fact. He knew she was sexy and blamed himself for not satisfying her. But the night he came home unexpectedly and found all of them in bed together was one bad scene.
It'd all started at a party where several of the young agents were getting very drunk. Or so she thought. She didn't know it at the time but they were drinking tea, acting very drunk and silly while they kept filling her glass and Ed's. Ed had passed out and they'd put him to bed.
She was so fussy she couldn't see straight when one of the fellows had suggested a game of strip poker. Then they all had sat in a circle on the living-room floor and methodically stripped her of all of her clothes-but she wouldn't take off her brassiere, nylons or garter belt. And there she had sat, Indian-fashion, with her bare cunt sticking out.
The other guys were all dressed-none of them lost a single hand. The party had been noisy and rowdy while Ed was up, but it suddenly became very quiet. The men spoke quietly and cut cards to see who'd be the first to fuck her. A tall boy from Clinton, Missouri, won and a local agent got seconds.
That was something. They both had tremendous tools, and the tall boy fucked her in the pussy while the other went in the back door. The feeling of two cocks stuck into her like that was too much and she'd almost passed out. But the more they fucked her the more awake and sober she became. There were only twelve that night, and she was fucked by each of them at least three times. Her cunt and asshole were so sore after that she could hardly walk. And it was that way for almost a month, until she got used to it.
She'd bled out of her ass, but she never told anybody about it and didn't go to a doctor. It wouldn't have been too neat if the gynecologist found cum and sperm in her rectum, and she didn't know but what a doctor could tell she was being gang-banged in the ass by fifteen guys twice a week. And she knew about doctors anyway. He'd stick his finger up her and get her sexy, then write out a prescription and give her a blank stare.
But the agents were better. One of them was a bachelor who had his own house out in the country. She'd get picked up at the supermarket every Tuesday and Thursday afternoon at one and stay until seven. Ed got home late on those nights. He never noticed the agency did poor business on Tuesdays and Thursdays, but the home office did. They sent for him and that was the time he came home unexpectedly and caught them.
Yes, Sandy thought, that was some time! Her record for one afternoon was sixty shots-she'd taken sixty ejaculations from fifteen men. At least twenty of the shots were in her mouth and were swallowed. It got to the point where she was beginning to worry about getting fat-eating all that fattening cum. She wondered what the calorie count on cum was. And there must have been at least a quarter of their juice pumped into her tubes on those nice afternoons.
Sandy smiled and stretched as she thought about it. It was so funny! She was being diddled by that group of madmen and her pussy was still nice and tight. Her finger lazily moved down and touched the lips. They were dry, but she put her finger in the slit and that was wet.
Ah, she said, and closed her eyes. She imagined she was being fingered in preparation for another mad romp, and her finger started moving up and down, in and out, with ever-increasing rapidity and precision. Then she found her clitoris and began really to turn on.
She thought about her big times as she masturbated, and was at this time writhing on the bed. Then the previous afternoon with Billy Jack came to her and she was consumed with an enraged passion. She didn't know what had come over her-she'd wanted to be had, but she had gotten miffed at him. Then he had gotten violent and banged her head. She felt her butt. It was pleasantly sore-good and sore-just the way it should be. Not sore from the heat of day, it was sore from cock friction.
Her hand was now moving rapidly and her other hand was into her tight-fitting brassiere. She rubbed her tit and massaged her clitoris while writhing on the king-sized bed. The room was spinning and she let a low moan escape from between her twisted lips. Oh, you wonderful clitoris, you. Sandy loved her button, her little bud of magic. She loved to have it rubbed-by anybody.
It occurred to her to put a dress on and go out to find a man before noon-she couldn't bear waiting. But she threw that idea out and rubbed faster, bringing herself to a fantastic climax. The fingers and palm of her hand were covered with her cum, and she moaned and held her wet hand over the side of the bed. She wished she had a man-she wished she had twenty men-or a thousand.
Ellen Speakman missed the meeting-she was writing a whopping policy for the Sandeens-and was up in Lou's room with Lou and his sister. Her head was fuzzy and her cunt was very sore. She wondered what her friend, Sapphire, had put in the drink to make her cunt so sore. She determined to get some more as soon as possible.
Lou sat in a chair listening and watching as Ellen and Marilyn sat on the bed amidst the pile of notebooks and policy applications. He looked at his sister, then at the older woman. They'd worked out a plan for seducing the old lady right after breakfast, when Linda and Bob were taking their dip. The plan was to get her drunk, then Marilyn would appeal during the pitch to the mother in Ellen, crying about the loss of her father. Lou was to stay out of it until physical contact had been established. Then he'd move to the bed and touch Ellen here and there. Ellen wouldn't know who was doing it and they'd both get to feel her out.
Marilyn was a switch-hitter-but she preferred men. Yet she sensed Lesbians and was sure Ellen was one. She knew that Lesbians could be turned on by another woman, then passed to a man, and she could think of nothing better than for her and her brother to double up on the stacked fifty-year-old. She had great tits, and Marilyn loved tits as much as any man. She'd play with herself for at least a half-hour every day. That was why her tits were so big and firm.
Now Ellen's speech was slurring. Lou was mixing Moscow Mules and really bombing Ellen out. She was to the part where, in the event of Bob's death, the insurance company would fork over so much money in cash and so much per month, when Marilyn started to weep. Then her eyes filled with large tears and she started to cry like a baby.
Ellen reacted as they thought she would. She immediately put her arms around Marilyn and clutched her to her large bosom while she patted her comfortingly on the back. "There, there, child!"
That was Lou's signal and he moved over and sat behind Marilyn. His hands slowly moved into the warmth between the two women and he smiled to see Marilyn's hand in the older woman's lap, pressing down harder as she cried and wailed uncontrollably. Lou felt the warmth of the four tits pressed against his hands, and he decided to become brash. Throwing caution to the wind, he grabbed Ellen's enormous tits as Marilyn exploded once again. The older lady didn't do a thing but continue to pat Marilyn on the back.
Lou found the button of Ellen's blouse between the full tits and undid it. Then he undid the next and the next. The old lady evidently didn't notice, and Lou sneaked his hand into the blouse and touched smooth, warm flesh-the protruding flesh of breasts. He smiled to see that Marilyn was also putting one of her hands into the blouse. The other hand was slowly moving under the hem of Ellen's dress. Lou decided to join his sister on that front, too. Together they felt Ellen's tits.
Lou's hand sneaked into the woman's wide and protective brassiere and he gritted his teeth as he contacted the nipple. He pinched it slightly to see if she'd glare at him. Nothing. He pinched harder and there was still no reaction. His other hand speeded up and he beat his sister to the woman's cunt. She was wearing only panties-no girdle. But she really didn't need one.
Marilyn was still crying disconsolately as her hand began to sneak down to Ellen's asshole. And Ellen had stopped patting her on the back. Her eyes were closed and she couldn't believe what was happening to her.
I'm being raped! she said to herself. My God, these horrible people are both touching my breasts and they are fondling my private parts as well. Ellen didn't know what to do, so she just sat there. She'd never even seen a nude man before yesterday. That was the first time she'd ever sucked a cock. Her head was spinning now. Four hands were touching her and she preferred the girl's: they were nice and smooth-and they were gentle. Yes, the girl knew what she was doing but the man wasn't bad. Little tingles of electricity coursed through her body and she found her hands were falling from the girl's back. She opened her eyes slightly and saw clearly that both of them had their hands in her brassiere. The front of her blouse was opened and her skirt was hiked way up!
Oh, God, she thought, I am being raped! She touched the smooth material of Lou's pants, then moved her hands, trying to pull it away. Then she touched it! There was a large lump in his pants, a column of hard flesh sticking straight up.
She wanted to tear her hand away, but she couldn't. The hot and vibrant thing held a horrible fascination for her, and try as she might, she just couldn't let go of it. The next thing she knew she was unzipping his fly. She just couldn't believe it! She was actually going into a man's pants. Everything was so strange, so disconnected, outrageous and odd! All of a sudden she snapped and heard her voice over the heavy breathing. "Fuck!"
You could have blown Marilyn over with your breath when she heard that. The sound of the nice old lady saying such a nasty word. Lou also struggled to keep from laughing and he removed both of his hands and pushed the lady down on her back.
Ellen lay on the bed with her eyes tightly closed. Her hand was wrapped around Lou's cock for dear life and she'd started jacking him off with jerky, erratic movements. Marilyn smiled at him as she saw the pitiful attempt of the old woman to masturbate a man.
But Lou liked it. The thought of some inexperienced old lady beating his meat was really fine. He looked down at the open blouse and regarded the large swells of flesh with hungry anticipation. He had to lick his lips at the sight and he motioned Marilyn to hike up the woman's dress all the way and pull down the panties. Marilyn did it while Lou watched. The sight of the hairy patch on Ellen Speakman's cunt made Lou breathe heavier and he was close to having an immediate orgasm.
Then Marilyn unbuttoned the rest of the blouse and rolled the old lady over on her side to unsnap the wide band of the brassiere. The two huge tits poured out and Marilyn rolled her over.
Lou couldn't stand it. He leaped onto the old lady and without any hesitation plunged his cock into her twat. It went in only halfway and he came, spurting his juice up into the cunt and lubricating the channel for more screwing. As if possessed by a demon, he fell upon her and sank his tongue deep into her mouth. His cock sprang to life once again. He started to thrust his cock in and out with a slow, deliberate rhythm and he managed to get it all the way in. That's when the fun began.
Her knees were now up in the air and she was pushing down against Lou as he thrust into her. Marilyn had moved to the head of the bed and was massaging Ellen's tits with large, circular movements, moving them as though they were two huge honeydew melons floating in a pool of flesh.
Ellen knew what orgasms were but she didn't know men could give them. She felt it stirring deep inside her belly as the man on top of her kept driving his penis in and out of her. It was strange, strong and demanding and it built to the point where she couldn't believe anything could feel so good. Her eyes were shut and she was gritting her teeth, her arms flung wide and her hands opening and closing crazily.
Then, all of a sudden, it happened. With a crash like thunder timed perfectly with his ejaculation, Ellen had her orgasm.
She cried out and moaned in delirious ecstasy and arched her body up so she could suck all of his precious juice far up into her pussy. It felt so good and she prayed silently that it wouldn't stop-that this wouldn't be the last. She had to have more-at any cost!
After two hours Ellen was a wreck. But she was smiling as she combed her hair.
"My gosh," she said, "I don't quite know what to say!"
Lou leered at her lewdly. "Then don't say anything. What about another party after the cocktail reception? Are you up to it?" He winked at Marilyn.
"Well, I ... uh ... that is ... well ... urn...."
"Let's say at six! In your room. Wouldn't want old Linda and Bob coming in on us, now, would we?"
Ellen stuttered and stammered for a few seconds trying to wage the war between pleasure and decency, and pleasure won. She told them her room number and agreed to make it at six. "I hope you won't say anything about any of this...." she concluded.
Marilyn told her the policy was fine and to leave the application for Bob to sign. She'd never handled such big tits in her life.
And, once again, Ellen could hardly walk. Her twat was sore but she smiled as she thought about the nice time. She left the room and thought about whistling. So that's what fucking's all about, is it? Have to do some more of that-every chance I get!
CHAPTER TEN
Billy Jack Sanders would have been bored stiff by the report of Silas Grimshaw, the home office actuary, were it not for the fact that Monica was sitting next to him.
He smelled two things very distinctly: her heady perfume and sex. The girl looked like sex; she moved like liquid sex and she smelled like sex. She had literally smote him with a sultry look as they were introduced. Now his hand was under the table, resting on her knee.
Nobody could see what he was doing and he smiled pleasantly and nodded as he heard Grimshaw's monotone drone statistics which might as well have been Chinese cooky futures. He didn't give a diddly-squat about lapse rates. He liked laps. And he was slowly moving his hand up into Monica's. She was trying to brush his hand away without making a fuss, but he merely smiled and nodded at Ed Stevenson and then at Silas Grimshaw. Grimshaw looked exactly like a sixty-year-old hippy, with the wild and shaggy fringe of hair around the shiny skull, the rimless glasses and the weird clothes.
It was eighty-six degrees out and Grimshaw was wearing a herringbone tweed coat with a belt in the back. He was really hip!
And Billy Jack smiled as he gained Monica's hip. She was wearing only bikini nylons under her miniskirt and he was into them and up beyond. He'd purposely avoided touching her little mound, since he wanted to tease her. He looked over at her. She was annoyed, all right, and her hands were now fidgeting on the table. Billy Jack noticed that old Stevenson was eying them kind of funny and he wondered if the two had something going. She'd just been introduced as a "new member of the great team" and that was all. Except for her name. Monica something. French sounding.
Well, Monica, Billy Jack was thinking, you sure are something! His hand was feeling the smoothness of her hip and leg and he smiled broadly. It looked like good old Monica was going to fit right in. But he wondered what she was going to be doing. He'd sure like to have her at the Biloxi office!
And his mind turned to thoughts of Norma Jean.
What a stupid bitch she was! Hollywood producer, indeed! Billy Jack scowled. Damned sex fiend should be thrown in jail or a mental hospital, because he sure enough was mental, and a criminal to boot! Imagine, feeding dumb, innocent, barefoot pilgrims that old shit about being in pictures! It was too much. God, why didn't I think of something like that? he thought, and laughed.
"I beg your pardon, Mr. Sanders," Grimshaw said. "Was there a particularly humorous note in the revised mortality rate?"
"Sorry, Grim," Billy Jack laughed. "I was plum asleep and must have been dreamin' a funny dream! That actuary crap will put a guy to sleep quicker than an overdose of sleeping pills."
Loxley Martinez added to the merriment with his comment. "And it's a damned sight deadlier, too!"
Everybody laughed except Stevenson, Grimshaw and Monica. She tried to remove Billy Jack's hand from inside her panties during the commotion. She was angry because she thought Billy Jack had found something funny with her belly. She couldn't imagine what it could have been!
Billy Jack struggled with her for a while and won. Her hands went back onto the top of the table and he resumed his thoughts about the Hollywood producer. Well, by damn, he thought, what if the bugger is a Hollywood producer! Now, wouldn't that be something-old Norma Jean in the movies and her name up on the marquee in big bright lights'? Earning a million a year? The bitch wouldn't even talk to me, probably.
But she was certainly okay last night. She'd helped out with old Stevenson's wife, then did some fair-to-middlin' screwing herself. Yep, he said to himself, Norma Jean ain't the brightest little child to come down the road, but she sure knows what a pussy is for! And it was always so much fun to make up. Especially when there was another broad involved. Then it was twice as much fun!
Just as the meeting was being adjourned, an Oriental couple walked in. Stevenson was dispensing another of his infamous pep-talks, and everybody welcomed the intrusion. It was Taiiko Okata and his wife Ikuni. Billy Jack and Loxley both sized her up as Stevenson smiled and waved them to a chair. Billy Jack was so awed by the young, short Japanese girl that his mouth fell open. She couldn't have been more than four-foot-six and her eyes were glistening black.
And one other thing. She was wearing a dress which was open in a magic slit all the way down to her navel. The navel and the sides of her tits by the cleavage barely showed and Billy Jack's lazy erection sprang to life.
Ikuni Okata spied it and she also noticed his hand up the young girl's dress as she walked behind them to her chair. She nudged her husband and motioned down with her head. Taiiko leered like a Cheshire cat. He dug it.
Stevenson intercepted the unspoken message and frowned. Was Billy Jack handling Monica under the table? Then he smiled again and asked the suave Japanese man if he would like to say a few words on mass merchandising.
Everybody flinched, and the room was filled with an audible sigh when he politely declined. He hadn't brought his graphs.
But he smilled at Billy Jack, that old inscrutable Japanese smile. Billy Jack smiled and wondered if what he'd heard about Japanese broads was right. He'd sure like to find out with that one!
The meeting adjourned and Billy Jack watched as Taiiko and Ed Stevenson left the room. I'd sure enough like to go off with that little Oriental gal, he thought, and approached her. Monica was both pleased and unhappy when he left. They hadn't so much as said a word to each other the whole time. Monica thought he was crazy. And she knew the Latin-looking character with the wavy hair, pointed nose and thin mustache was crazy. She'd seen him last night.
"Mrs. Okata ... would you like a drink?" Billy Jack asked.
"Love one, John. Your room or mine?"
The hair stood straight up on Billy Jack's head. What a fox! he said to himself. He was going to find out if what they said about Japanese women was true!
He knew that Norma Jean was out with her Hollywood producer friend for the morning so he invited Mrs. Okata to his room.
Taiiko was discussing a reverse-pitch advertising layout with Stevenson when he saw them walk through the lobby and go into the elevator. Then he watched as the lights above the door blinked. He noted the floor number and smiled enigmatically.
"This Sanders," he said, "good man?"
"One of our best managers and a producer-but he's a bit flaky and I think he's something of a sex enthusiast. Why?"
"Just wondering. He's the one with the scrawny blonde wife with the tits, no?"
"Norma Jean? Yeah, that's his wife."
"Norma Jean? Jesus H. Christ, what a blasty handle! Norma Jean! Good God and pressed ducks!"
Stevenson repressed a chuckle at the salty aphorisms and turned to the ad layout.
And Taiiko made a mental note to check on Norma Jean. He also wondered how Sandy was. He hadn't been in her for months. She was a pretty sexy chick ... for an old bag. She was one mean cocksucker, and no lie! Taiiko's monster prick twitched as he thought about her.
"Say, Ed," he smiled, "speaking of wives, how's Sandy? I haven't had a chance to see her for months."
"She's around. Maybe up in the room. By God, there she goes now! Should I call her over?"
Sandy was striding out of the lobby without looking one way or the other. She looked really sharp in a miniskirt and see-through blouse.
Taiiko's eyes were black slits as he moved casually over and watched her sit, butt first, in the passenger's seat of an old red E-Jag. "I don't think she'll hear if you do," he observed cryptically. It was too bad-all the chicks were running out and none were coming in.
Nothing escaped Taiiko's attention and he had a black belt in sex. He knew all the tricks. He'd learned many of them from Japanese pornographic movies he'd seen at an Art House on the Upper West Side in New York. One of the movies, The Monster Suck, was almost too much for him and he commented to his wife what a bunch of crazy fuckers the Japanese must be. Then they'd gone home and practiced the new moves they'd seen. He started by ripping her clothes off and raping her in the front hallway.
He'd always wanted to go to Japan but he couldn't get the hang of the language. All the words looked and sounded alike to him and he thought it would be pretty odd to walk around the various pavilions at Expo 70 and not be able to tell a geisha from a honcho. No, New York and Miami were just fine. Lots of wild chicks-especially in New York. But then, Des Moines was okay except for two things: all the streets were one way-the wrong way, and every last chick in town had a run in her stockings. Taiiko would always say, "Show me a girl from Des Moines and I'll show you a girl with a run in her stocking." He had to be careful not to waste this pithy bit of sage Oriental observation by saying it twice to the same person. If he ever did he knew it would lose all its P-zzazz.
Taiiko managed to get through the presentation without thinking too much about what he was saying. He wondered what Ikuni was doing to poor Sanders upstairs. Ikuni was bad in bed, very nasty indeed. The things she could do with her tongue! The only daughter of a very old and rich San Francisco family, Ikuni was a fine wife. Although she couldn't cook in the kitchen, her performances on the sheets were enough to kill the average man. They'd been kicked out of over a dozen clubs in New York as being dangerous.
He smiled. Dangerous? Hell, they were all a bunch of sissies. One group, the Consortium, was absolutely the best. Taiiko almost laughed when he thought about it. Everybody was standing around nude, like a bunch of dummies at a cocktail party. And they all just gawked at each other. The women were sizing up the various tools and the men were checking boobs out.
And all the women stared open-mouthed at him. So did some of the men, and this gave him the willies. He didn't mind his wife being dinged by guys but he didn't want to have any part of that crap! But pretty soon things got into gear and he grabbed himself a skinny redhead with absolutely beautiful tits. She had green eyes and freckles all over her body. And she couldn't have weighed over a hundred pounds.
The thought of jamming his mammoth cock into that little woman's red-haired gear was very stimulating. She couldn't possibly take him all the way in but he was going to give it the old college try. They started out with a session of sixty-nine right there on the living-room floor and she tried vailantly to take him all the way in. But, of course, she couldn't come close to it. The huge bulb almost filled her mouth and she had to masturbate him with both hands as she sucked. The members stood and watched, horrified as the gigantic cock continued to fill with blood. Finally, when it had reached its maximum size, everybody gasped. Everybody, that is, except for the redhead and Ikuni.
Ikuni was smiling broadly at the scene. Her husband was on top of the smooth little redhead, his belly crushing her to the floor. The woman's pitiful attempt to eat her husband was enough to make her laugh, but she watched with light amusement. And she watched the people gaze down in horror.
Taiiko was amused by the scene but he learned then not to let his cock get too big in front of a group before he put it into somebody. The word spread. He couldn't find one taker in the crowd so he and Ikuni had to fuck each other. It was much better anyway. They fit each other very well.
Upstairs Billy Jack and Ikuni were having their drink, and his eyes were fastened on the opening of her dress. She was eying his bulge and they were making small talk.
"Golly, Mrs. Okata, you're the first Japanese girl I've ever met!" Billy Jack was very excited as he looked at her.
"Yes, well you're the first person from Biloxi I've ever met."
She wasn't excited like Billy Jack but she was stimulated. He was a live one, she was sure. But he was pretty slow. So she decided to advance on him. She edged around on the bed, giving him a fair look at her shapely legs.
Billy Jack noticed the move and knew he was going to have himself one fine old time. "Mighty fine legs you have there, Mrs. Okata!" He knew the direct approach with women was always the best.
"Why, thank you," she purred. She then exposed a bit more of her thigh as she leaned back for her cigarettes. She knew he wouldn't miss a trick.
Billy Jack looked at her and said to himself, now or never. He reached out and put his hand on her thigh, surprised to notice that she flinched. He hadn't expected that-he thought she was ready. Was it going to be messy?
Ikuni was going to play the frightened victim as long as she could. Nothing drove men to wilder excesses of debauchery than the thought they were actually raping somebody. She wouldn't go so far as to scratch and scream, but she would struggle. A nice little wrestling match always whets the appetite. She was prepared to tussle.
The touch and look evoked no reaction from Billy Jack except surprise. He was just making his mind up to do something when he heard a small whimper. Lordy, he thought, a crying woman. Using every bit of skill and finesse he could summon, Billy Jack tried to soothe and calm the Japanese girl, but it was obvious she was panicked and frightened to death. Each time he'd reach for her to try to comfort her and explain, she'd squirm out of his grasp and regard him with fear-wide eyes and more whimpers. He didn't mind at all, for every time she moved she'd either show him quite a bit of leg or else two beautiful tits-for she was wearing no bra under the risque dress.
"Aw, come on, lady," Billy Jack said, "I'm not gonna hurt you."
That was answered by a look of stark terror and another cry.
Billy Jack finally lunged at her and grabbed her around the waist.
She answered this by flipping her body around quickly and taking his neck in a head-scissors lock between her two legs-hard!
Golly damn, Billy Jack thought, she's not wearing panties, either. He was being treated to a first-class view of Ikuni's twat since his chin was being firmly held in the crack of her ass and his eyes were right next to the girl's cunt. He knew there was nothing he could do so he idly stuck his tongue out, spearing the nice little cunt as his hands managed to find the opening of her black dress and settle on the two rock-hard tits.
They struggled in the middle of the bed like two sexy snakes as their hands and legs writhed slowly, trying to gain better positions. Billy Jack could feel his cock steadily expanding in his pants as the girl rubbed the inside of his leg.
Balls, is she a hot one!
Then it happened-she pulled down the zipper of his fly. After she opened it, she fished inside until her small but expert hands found his cock and balls. Then the fireworks began-she really started to show Billy Jack what female sexpertise was all about.
She didn't release his head even though he was struggling like a lunatic. He couldn't believe what she was doing with his cock and balls-it was driving him right out of his skin. Every time she touched him it was like feather-fire-a tickling and burning sensation which made him reach immediate orgasm. He didn't know what she'd done to him or with his cum because he couldn't see anything but the smooth lips of the girl's cunt, covered by the sparse pubic hairs. He had to concentrate on the cunt to keep from losing his mind altogether. What she was doing to him he couldn't understand.
Billy Jack had never felt anything like it!
About fifteen minutes later Billy Jack was verging on unconsciousness and Ikuni released him. He looked at her with a dazed expression on his face, his prick as limp as an old dishrag.
Well, he thought, shee-it fire! What we gonna do now? He'd never been on such a ride in his life and he looked at the smiling Oriental beauty lying on the bed with him. He knew he couldn't have another erection for at least a week.
As if she were reading his mind, Ikuni bent forward, covering his cock with her mouth and, as if by magic, his tired and bruised prick leaped to immediate life. Then, reviving his cock to her own standards of size and rigidity, she sprang lightly to the floor and whisked her dress off. She was stark naked under it.
Twenty seconds later Billy Jack was also naked-Ikuni's hands literally flew over him as she peeled him. Now they were both stripped for battle. Billy Jack wasn't frightened, but he was very cautious. He couldn't imagine a woman like Ikuni-she could sure teach Norma Jean a trick or two.
And Norma Jean was teaching Irv a trick or two in his suite not two hundred feet from her own room. They'd invented several new positions, all of which impressed Irv so much he was beginning to wish he actually were a Hollywood producer.
Now they lay on the bed, side-by-side, completely exhausted.
Irv grunted and Norma Jean opened her eyes and looked over at him.
He certainly looks like a Hollywood producer, she thought, but Billy Jack may be right. She had to know for sure, though, and she was going to quiz him. "Who produced Gone With The Wind, Irving?"
"Nate Talon," came the ready reply. Norma Jean was impressed.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Taiiko Okata knew exactly what his position was with women. There wasn't a woman made who was immune to him. And not only could he seduce any woman in sight, but they would never screw and tell and they'd always come back for more.
He had a feeling his luck was running cold but he decided to go up to check Norma Jean out. He smiled at the name. Man, he thought, walking from the desk to the elevator, what a silly name! But he liked thin girls with large tits. He preferred redheads to anything, but blondes were a close second. Backwoods blondes were, at times, better than big-city redheads.
Now, going up to eight in the elevator, he was humming a light tune and smiling. Should I just walk in? he asked himself. Or should I knock? If I just walk in, I may catch her with her pants down, always an exciting proposition. Or then, she may be balling somebody, and that's not so hot. Well, he said to himself, in we go! He was at the door and merely opened it.
There was nobody in the living room, but it was a mess. It looked exactly like a bombed-out clothing store, with clothes and underwear and shoes scattered around. He tiptoed into' the bedroom.
The sight he saw almost made him laugh. It was his wife. She was sitting on Billy Jack's lap, humping madly down on his red cock, her tongue sticking out as if she were a Siamese cat.
"Beg pardon," he said, "but isn't your wife here?"
"No," Billy Jack mumbled from between clenched teeth, "but you can try ten-forty. Ask for a Hollywood producer named Irving." He continued to screw Ikuni and was in a state of frenzy.
"Thanks," Taiiko said and, winking at his wife, turned and left.
Ten-forty was answered by a portly and balding man wearing nothing but a beach towel wrapped around his middle. "Yes?"
Taiiko had his wallet out and flashed his New York driver's license at the short man for a split second. "Johnson," he announced, "FBI. Are you the Hollywood producer named Irving?"
He didn't blink as the other man clutched at his chest with both hands, allowing the towel to drop onto the floor. Then Irv's eyes rolled up. He said something that sounded like Yahweh or Oy Veh and fell to the floor, unconscious.
Taiiko stepped delicately over him and walked into the room. He was whistling the theme song from Mary Poppins as he reached the bedroom. And there she was, just as Sanders had predicted.
"Who are you?" she asked.
"You don't remember me? We met two years ago, about. In Des Moines. And you're looking better than ever!"
Norma Jean became aware of the fact that she was naked and she tried to cover herself with her delicate hands. "Where's Irving?"
"I'm not sure, but I think he's dead."
Norma Jean blinked in amazement. Irving couldn't just die like that, before the contract and everything. "You're kidding!"
Suddenly the voice of a small boy could be heard from the hall. "Hey look, mom! There's a bare-naked man sleeping on the floor in that room!"
Taiiko's mind worked like a well-oiled machine and he made a split-second decision to go in and close the door. Suite ten-forty would do just fine for his purposes-the woman wouldn't have to waste valuable time dressing and undressing, although watching women dress and undress was always an exciting proposition.
The little kid was still standing in the doorway, wide-eyed, as Taiiko reached the door. His mother was also there-a tall Baptist type with a long tartan plaid skirt, low-heeled shoes, horn-rimmed glasses, and her mouse brown hair brought back severely and wound into a tight bun on the back of her head. She was clutching her son with one hand and a small black-covered book which looked like a German-American dictionary with the other.
At the sight of the sinister Japanese, the two thin pink slits of her lips parted slightly and she trembled.
"Sorry, madam," Taiiko said in his best broken accent, "but we don't open for public business for another hour and three-quarters. Special massages are only twenty dollars on Tuesdays." He nodded at the dumb-struck woman and closed the door.
Once again he stepped over the still form of Irving as he unzipped his pants and removed his suit coat. He strode directly to the bedroom, unbuttoning his shirt and stepping out of his pants. He was careful to control his erection-no sense scaring the young lady. By the time he was beside the bed he was ready to remove his socks and shorts and he sat on the bed and did it.
"But who are you?" she repeated.
"Irv's partner, from Hollywood," he announced, carefully arranging his shirt on a chair back. "Irv has mentioned you."
"Do you really think he's dead?"
"No, of course not. He just fainted seeing me way out here."
Norma Jean was happy to hear that, and she was also happy to know that Irv's partner was in town to see her. She felt famous. When she looked at his rod, however, a combination of awe and fear choked her. He had the largest cock she'd ever seen and she really wondered if it would fit. Even soft it was like a small leg, cut off at the knee. She couldn't believe it.
But Norma Jean was game for anything. She'd made it with Irv several times that morning and she was primed for more. The sight of his cock was making her more sluttish than she usually was and made the nipples on her tits round out to hard little thimbles of pink flesh. Her pussy was beginning to throb like a mouth aching from a visit to a dentist. It had to be fixed.
She was naked and lay back, spreading her legs for him. She watched excitedly as the man stood at the foot of the bed and looked down at her. He was husky and hairless on his body, except for a sparse covering of pubic hair around his huge cock and balls. The balls hung like those of a seed bull. She was excited but afraid.
Now the husky Oriental was stroking his column of flesh into rigidity and Norma Jean watched in awe. She'd never seen a prick like that in her life. She wriggled slightly on the bed.
She grinned and reached out one hand toward his cock and he moved forward so she could take it. Her fingers wrapped around it and she tested its rigidity and thickness.
"Gawd," she said. "Where did you get something like this?"
He grinned down at her. "I grew it. You want to try some of it? I think you can take it."
"What about Irv?"
"He's resting comfortably."
Taiiko smiled down. His cock was now rigid but only about half its maximum size.
Norma Jean was watching his prick with lust-filled eyes. She had to have that cock in her and she exploded, "Hurry up and fuck me. I'm so damned horny I could die!"
"At your service!"
His short, muscular legs came between her thighs and he held his bull's prick by the base. Then he guided it to the moist lips of her cunt. She took him with a grunt of mixed pain and pleasure. And as the turgid inches slid farther and farther up the tunnel of her pussy, her grunt turned to a low moan of ecstasy.
Taiiko didn't stop until he touched bottom; then he slowly started to move his cock in and out of the wet, hot cunt. It was a very tight fit, but he smiled as he knew it was going to be much tighter. His eyes were fastened on her tits and both of his hands moved forward to possess them. He liked hard little nipples and began to massage the tits as he silently commanded his cock to grow to its full size. And he could feel it getting tighter in the twat on every stroke.
Norma Jean's eyes were closed and she had her legs up now, her ankles interlocked over his back. He was a real stallion but she was a mare in heat, and no matter how she was stretched she had to have him all the way in. The pleasure his slowly driving cock was giving her was almost unbearable. There was intense pain and she thought she was being ripped, but she thrust up to meet his pistoning prick. Her fingernails were digging into his back.
"Oooohhh God," she gasped, squirming up tighter against him.
Taiiko grinned and continued to pump her as his abnormally large prick expanded. At the same time he bent forward and took one of her pointed nipples into his mouth and sucked it. He rolled it with his tongue, nipping the pink pad at the base with his teeth. He could feel the nipple getting as hard as a well-worked clitoris, under his expert tongue.
Norma Jean started to go completely crazy when her body began to fill with lecherous desire. Her legs tightened against the stud's waist and she tried with all her might to suck the full length of his delicious cock all the way into her body. She was meeting his thrusts with perfect precision, doubling the pleasure and fun for both of them.
Closing her eyes, she listened to the sweetest music this side of heaven-the sounds of screwing. It was the wet, sucking noise of a large and hard cock plunging in and out of a moist and ready pussy and the soft, sexy slap of nuts against the crack of a woman's ass.
This lecherous sound began a reaction deep inside her vagina and she was beginning to build toward a prostitute's orgiastic spasm. Her tongue darted across her lips and she was sweating.
Taiiko could feel the muscles in her cunt stretch and tighten against his cock, and he knew she was ready to have her climax. He was going to hold off, practicing his Kamasutra technique. So, thinking about other things and containing himself, he increased his speed, smiling to himself about the quivering and tightly stretched cunt he was thundering into.
Norma Jean had never felt anything like it. She'd looked down once to see the huge prick going rapidly in and out of her pussy, but she had to look away-it was unbelievable. She'd never had a child but she knew if she could take what he was jamming into her she could take Siamese twins. And it felt so wonderful!
Now her explosion was ripping through her body and the maddening feeling of his mouth manipulating her nipples was making her so sexy she was about to pass out.
Her climax came with an uncontrollable muscle spasm. He knew what was happening to her and speeded up even more, driving his cock hard into her belly.
Right now he was reaching his maximum size and he thrust with methodical movements, taking his time but sparing no power. Her fingernails were like the spurs on a cowboy's boots, digging into his back, urging him on much like a rider encourages a horse with a nudge in the flanks. And Taiiko got the message.
A slow smile crossed his face. He really didn't think the Southern girl could take all of him but she was begging for more. She seemed to thrive on his huge organ and he was certain now that she was driving for her second orgasm. Her cum had flooded the dark and wet canal and he was slipping in and out with regular strokes, savoring the feeling of the fleshy ridges on the shaft of his prick.
Taiiko knew one thing most other men only wished about: he knew that ninety-five percent of all women, of any age or size, loved to fuck. Even sixty-year-olds and twelve-year-olds, pregnant women, women with the curse, even seemingly frigid women. He thought about the time he fucked the girl who was eight months pregnant.
She was a large girl, almost as tall as he, with long black hair. He'd met her in the supermarket one afternoon and smiled at her, telling her how much the Japanese people liked to see women who were about to have children. He'd said they had a certain radiance and inner beauty which no make-up could produce.
And had she fallen for the line!
Her tits were tenting her dress way out in front and her belly extended almost as far. It hadn't been at all difficult for him to bring her to his house. Once in, they had had a couple of drinks. Hers were, of course, quite strong.
Then he had slowly walked over, standing behind her chair. As her dress had a scooped neckline it was easy for him to look down at the fantastically large tits. They were literally bulging out of the brassiere. The next move was easy. He had merely inserted his hand down her neckline and gently caressed one of her tits, then the other.
It was all basic psychology from there on out. All pregnant women are horny as hell by their eighth month because their husbands all think they shouldn't screw. That was so much nonsense, of course, and Taiiko knew it. Some of his best fucks were women on the verge of labor pains.
And the girl he'd found at the supermarket was no exception to that rule. She was instant turn-on material and he had her out of her maternity dress in nothing flat.
Ikuni had been watching from the dining-room door-it was open just a crack. She loved to watch her husband score. It did wonders for their sex life.
The girl had been wearing a very large and wide brassiere and a panty-girdle. No nylons. Removing the girdle was difficult but it was fun. The girl kept protesting that she really shouldn't have sexual relations when she was so close to her time, but Taiiko convinced her that was a bunch of shit.
"Don't you want to?" he'd asked.
"Well, yes," she'd replied.
"Well, if you want to, then there's no problem! You're the mother and nobody knows better than you what's good for you. Let's get with it!"
Then he had removed her brassiere and contained his surprise. She had absolutely the largest tits he'd ever laid eyes on. They were huge, but they were perfect. They hung only slightly but were obviously full, and ready for use.
He'd never had the equal of that afternoon for good old dirty screwing. He'd fucked her in the cunt until she shrieked, then he had screwed her in the asshole; she'd sucked him off and he'd fucked her between the huge and liquid tits. Then, for good measure, he'd had her get on her hands and knees on the floor and he'd perched behind her, his hands on her tits, his chin in her back and his cock in and out of her cunt. She was delirious after three hours but she hadn't wanted to go home.
"God," she'd sobbed, "don't throw me out! I don't want to go back to that dull apartment!"
Although her plea hadn't fallen on deaf ears she'd had to leave. There was no need to make a big deal out of a little one, Taiiko knew, and to him a light afternoon's screw with some chick from the supermarket or drug store was a little deal.
Taking one of those chicks in to live with him would have been a big one.
He'd promised to meet her in three days' time outside the same store and she'd left. When Taiiko re-entered the house his wife was on him like a flash. She'd wanted to hear about how it felt and he'd told her he was sure he could feel the little bastard up in her uterus both when he screwed her in the pussy and when he plugged her in the seat.
They'd both known there was nothing to it. She'd be back.
Now Taiiko was lunging wildly, completely oblivious to Norma Jean's gasps and whimpers. He was thinking about the pregnant girl, reliving the time when he had first fucked her.
It had been the sexiest thing he could've imagined-that was the whole thing about control. First you think about unsexy things while you want to stay and stay and stay; then, when you want to make it, you think about the sexiest fuck you've ever had. And that's the only way to do it!
Taiiko was fucking the living daylights out of Norma Jean on the bed in Irv's suite while he imagined he was with his pregnant friend on the floor of his living room that cold August afternoon.
"Oh, God!" he grunted as the first wave shot out. "OH, GOD!"
Norma Jean was beginning really to worry. She'd seen smaller cocks on horses. Now she was stuck, just plain stuck and he was spearing her so hard with that gigantic weapon that she was having trouble breathing. She gasped and whimpered, her eyes bulging out like a frightened frog's.
"Hump, baby!" Taiiko urged. He was jamming his horse's cock into her mercilessly stretched twat with lightning speed, splashing millions of little sperm up her tubes. Go, you crazy little bastards, he directed, go do your nasty stuff! He kept coming, his balls twitching and pumping.
Norma Jean was almost gone when Taiiko raised himself lazily from between her legs. They'd done it every way Taiiko knew, and Norma Jean had serious doubts as to her ability to walk again-ever again. Through half-closed eyes she saw Taiiko stand. His cock was still semi-erect and the grossness of it struck her like a bolt of lightning.
"Ooohhh God," she moaned. Her tongue wet her lips.
Taiiko knew what it meant to hear a woman moan like that, and his cock quivered. Looking down at her he lost no time gaining another hard-on, his largest of the afternoon.
Her cunt was wet, and white cum was smeared H on her pubic hairs, her legs and belly, all over her tits and on her face and in her tousled hair. She was really gummed up, and Taiiko wanted to roll on her slippery body like a dog rolls on a dead bird. He stood above her, wondering what to try next. He was stroking his cock with all the patience of a surgeon, bringing little beads of moisture to the ridge on the head. He'd wondered if he should try to mix up a batch by hand and shoot her in the nose but decided what she needed was a Rhinoceros Job.
First, he'd have to have her stand on the bed facing away from him. Then, he'd have to jam it in, in a standing dog position. After that was accomplished, holding her up with his cock in her twat, he'd hoist her down, his hands under her tits.
In this position he'd do a rhinoceros trot back and forth across the room. Short, jerky steps jiggled the cock and it was like a real, live cordless vibrator.
Women went crazy with this one and Taiiko was a master. It was his masterpiece. He smiled.
"Would you kindly stand and face away from me...."
An hour later both staggered into the living room. The sight of Irv's body on the floor made Norma Jean gasp and she clutched at her stomach.
"Is he ... is he...?"
"Yes, child," Taiiko said. "I'm afraid he's quite unconscious. He fainted; just a moment." Taiiko turned to the phone and dialed the manicurist and smiled. He wanted a manicurist in less than five minutes ... room ten-forty.
Then he replaced the receiver, smiled at Irv and guided Norma Jean gently around his nude body.
It was early afternoon and the sun was beating mercilessly down on thousands of red backs at Miami Beach. Bob and Linda were taking in the sun and fresh salt air, discussing their spouses. They couldn't believe how two people could be so filthy, so degenerate, so obscene and utterly depraved as to screw when they were brother and sister. The very idea was enough to make them sick.
Bob was stretched out on his stomach because he'd grown a big hard-on. They'd have to start discussing something else or his back would be burned to a frazzle. There was nothing he could do.
"Could we talk about something else, Linda?" he asked, "this sort of talk brings me down."
"Sure, Bob," she said. "What should we talk about?"
"Hunting," he responded, smiling. Then he thought about the millions of tall trees where he hunted. "No, not hunting. Let's talk about current politics." Bob knew a bit about control, too.
In less than fifteen minutes Bob and Linda were walking through the lobby. It was time for a shower and some loving.
Although it didn't show except in her slightly flaired nostrils and heavy breathing, Linda was still sexy. The thought of her husband actually making love to his little sister somehow clung to her mind. God, she silently sneered, what a terrible thing! Imagine two little kids growing up, screwing each other every time their mother turned her back. Why, it's animalistic!
When the elevator door closed she coughed and breathed heavily.
"Catching a cold?" he asked.
"No. My nostrils are just slightly plugged up.-Must be the humidity."
"Yeah. Very humid down here. The ocean and all...."
CHAPTER TWELVE
Loxley Martinez was pacing back and forth in the lobby. He looked at his wrist watch every minute and muttered. It was almost three o'clock-only an hour until cocktails. He was damned if he was going to miss out on one free drink in Miami-that just isn't done. Not by people from New York, anyway.
He was just reaching the boiling point when Pistol signaled him from the plain doorway.
He strode to it and disappeared up the concrete stairway. Fingering his roll he muttered. He didn't know they were going to play him then set the hook quite so hard.
He couldn't find Debbie anywhere and he was horny. Nobody was around and he just had to have his nuts cracked before the party. He'd be a regular bear if he went like he was.
So he finally summoned Sapphire.
"Fifty Dollars! Christ!" He muttered again as he followed Pistol's perfect posterior down the hall. He wondered if she at least gave green stamps. Or gold stamps. Bad day, he cursed to himself.
Sapphire was like the Queen of Sheba, lying on her couch. Or she might have resembled the Reclining Prostitute by Ignazio Zuloaga. Their smiles were the same as were their postures.
"Hello, man," she laughed. "Which one y'all want?"
Loxley twitched and sweated as he looked over the array of girls. He was stunned. Fifty dollars for one hour-not even that. "Aren't your prices a bit steep, Sapphire?"
"Hun, if yo wanna go down Collins and pick yoseff up some dose a clap or maybe a bushel o' crabs for twenty bucks that's yo priviledge, right? Now, ol' Mamma Sapphire doan work like dat. Here yo' gets class stuff reasonable! Looky there! What yo wan' man?"
Loxley had to admit it was a fetching covey of quail. The only girl over sixteen was Pistol. She was exactly sixteen.
"Well," he stammered, "could I have two of them for forty-five minutes for fifty rugs?"
Sapphire looked at the girls.
They shrugged or curled their lips in silent reply.
"Hun," Sapphire laughed, "yo kin have all o' them for forty-five minutes."
"Credit card and stamps?" he asked. He was already getting a dynamite deal. And he could write it off on the card.
Sapphire sighed heavily. "Deal."
Loxley wasted no time diving in. Two king-sized beds were next to each other on the far wall. There were seven young girls on the beds, all nude or semi-nude.
He regarded them closely as he started taking off his clothes. One was particularly good. She was young and chubby, had long red hair and millions of carrot-colored freckles. She wasn't wearing a bra, and her chubby little tits were just large mounds on her chest. She had a cute little pot belly and her pussy was covered by a white, frilly pair of cotton panties. She was also wearing matching knee-socks but no shoes.
She caught his eye because she reminded him of a little girl he'd seen in the drug store after school. Her just-forming little tits and terribly short dresses made him want to try to get her into the car with a Mars bar or something. And he'd see her all the time.
The bad part of it was that the little girl would always smile at him and seem to walk in a way that was teasing. He'd been on the verge of picking her up one afternoon when he was waiting for the stop sign. She was standing there on the corner eating a lime tootsie-pop and she waved and smiled. "Hi, mister!"
Loxley had almost fainted. Sweat sprang out on his hands and temples and he almost went blind. But he couldn't do it. He merely smiled at her and pulled around the corner and parked. Then, rubbing his prick gently, he watched her in his rear-view mirror as she walked across the street.
The closest he ever came to her was at the neighborhood amusement park. They'd gone on one of those cart rides through the scary tunnel-the kind that bumps you around. At the first bump his cock was in her pussy and his hand was under her little slip top. He smiled at that, for the tit was only a soft mound, but the nipple stood right out. She was a virgin, so he couldn't go far up into her cunt. She was tight.
He had a large erection when they came out and he was glad there was a crushing mob. He'd jammed his rod into her in the crowd, then had lost her. And it was a damned good thing. He knew it was seven years of rocks and twine for cutting San Quentin Quail.
He'd looked for her around after that but couldn't find her. His disappointment was mixed with delight-she must have moved out of the neighborhood. Such a nice little girl.
Then he realized he was staring. The red-haired girl was staring back, no small amount of fear in her eyes. Her lip seemed to tremble. Was she the same chick? Well, he didn't give a damn one way or the other.
Loxley walked over to where the young girl was sitting, his large cock springing up and down as he walked. She had wide green eyes and perfect pink lips. She reminded him exactly of the other girl.
The first thing he did was to remove her panties. Then, with each hand, he brought her feet high into the air, spreading her legs so he could look at her cunt. It was just beginning to be covered by a fine veil of copper-colored fuzz. Her asshole was a clean little pink halo surrounding a black dot. Yes, he thought, I'll have to jam this prick right up that nize tight little azzole.
But first he was going to have her Estonian style, by the edge of the bed, her legs up, him standing. Right in the twat.
He thrust the head of his prick against the girl's tight and unlubricated little hole and pushed. The head had to be rubbed back and forth a few times, then it entered the warm part of her slit. Her lips were virginal and tight and he relished the thought that he had lured his other young friend up to his apartment and was fucking her there.
The thought made him want to come right away, but he wasn't ready. He wasn't going to pay fifty dollars for being nice to some underage whore. No sir.
His cock was barely in and he leaned heavily forward and down, driving his prick brutally into the fist of warm and wet flesh which was the young prostitute's pussy. He was surprised how tight she was, but he managed, by wriggling and thrusting jerkily, to get the prick halfway in.
But she was tighter than the skin on a guitar player's wrist!
He started thrusting in and out like a wild man. He felt his large, hard cock hit bottom and he jammed even harder at the feeling. He had the young girl in a ball under him, slamming down harder and harder.
All of a sudden he felt something behind him-someone had begun to lick his asshole and pump his balls. Then he turned to see the frail shape of Carol, the blonde from the day before.
It was no use! The licking, pumping and fucking was too much for Loxley. He looked down at the girl's face and let loose his voluminous gush of cum into her belly. If the girl had a matching orgasm, Loxley couldn't tell. She was lying like a lump, unable to move. She merely blinked.
Next he had her straddle the bed on her hands and knees. He grabbed and massaged her tits from underneath while he carefully aimed his cum-wet cock at her tight asshole. He pressed forward and the tip popped in. But it was so tight it was almost painful. Loxley used her young, soft tits as a handle and thrust his captured prick forward in a flurry of jerky and spasmodic rushes.
She was grasping at his cock with the ridged walls of her rectum and thrusting back at him like a bucking mare. Loxley then knew how this girl got her nuts off-she liked it in the back door!
Hanging on for dear life, Loxley rode her. The young redhead was completely wild, she was so sexy. She'd brought Loxley's hand down to her clitoris and he gathered she wanted him to jack-off her clit.
Now he was fingering the vibrating little nub of pink flesh as he rammed his machine in and out of her tight but horny asshole.
Suddenly, she started bucking harder, bouncing up and down on the bed like an epileptic cricket. And she was repeating the same phrase over and over again. "Oh God, oh God, oh God!"
Loxley's second orgasm was by far better than the first. She was able to take his whole cock up her tail, and when she felt him come she contracted her muscles as hard as she could. Loxley had never felt anything like it in his life.
The feeling of her rectum rippling and grasping against his nervous cock was more than he could stand and he released his shot, filling her rectum with steaming hot cum.
Temporarily exhausted, Loxley withdrew and flopped on his back on the bed. Carol was immediately on him, licking his limp cock clean and back to life. She lapped at his balls and squeezed them lovingly. When his prick was once again hard she, too, sat on it, butt over.
Simultaneously, the red-haired girl rolled over and squatted right above Loxley's face. His prick seemed to jump out another quarter of an inch. Eating out was fun; he knew that and he didn't care if it was beef or pork. Pork was pretty exciting.
She lowered herself down so she could just feel his prickly little mustache touch her fine pubic hairs.
Loxley lapped the little girl's lips and speared his tongue into her asshole. It was sweet, rather like honey, he thought, and probed deeper. Her pussy juice was no longer gushing out and Loxley sucked heartily for the last few precious drops of the succulent broth. It had a different taste, maiden juice did. It wasn't like that from old ladies. That was harsh, scathing, pungent. No, give me a clean young child every time!
In a half-hour Loxley was Beyond the Land of the Ninth Martini!
He'd eaten all the girls and had stuck every one at least once. Now, slightly used but with still another good day ahead of him, Loxley smiled wearily as he buckled his shoes.
"Well, Sapphire," he laughed, "that was certainly something."
She'd just clamped his card down on the receipt and was counting out his stamps, somewhat grudgingly.
"Yassuh, that it was, yes indeedy!" She returned his card and gave him the rest of it. Then she smiled broadly and began to laugh uproariously.
"What's the matter?" Loxley asked. He hated to be laughed at. Then, what man doesn't?
"Nothin', hun," she laughed, "but you like to eat here?"
"Sure! Why not?"
"Member what I said before? Here you gets class stuff?"
"Yeah. Class stuff and no twenty-dollar clap...."
"Right, man. Well, you gots yoseff fifty worth of high-class clap! An' seven bushels of crabs into de bargain, hee hee hee!"
Loxley was out of the room in a flash, vomiting air and belching. He found a corner in the hallway and didn't even have to stick his finger down his throat. Everything just flew out in a gush. He was on the point of fainting but he didn't want them to find him. That would be horrible. He staggered up the stairway, red-eyed and broken.
My God, he thought, crabs! I'll have to shave off my mustache and eyebrows! Then he started to rush up the stairs three at a time. Maybe I can quell the little devils, he thought. Maybe I can kill them with cologne before they entrench. I'll even gargle with the stuff. "Aaacchhppttuuiiee!" He almost turned blue as he retched and spit.
In thirty seconds he was giving himself a French bath and gargling with the same cologne. He completely covered his face, mustache, eyebrows and hair with it, then opened his shirt and looked at his chest in the mirror. "Christ," he cried, "it's hopeless, utterly hopeless!" His chest was a tangle of black hair extending all the way down to his belly and onto his toes and fingers. Resignedly, he removed his clothes and left them in a heap on the bathroom floor.
He then turned the shower on full hot and gritted his teeth while the steaming torrent shot down on him. "Drown, you little fuckers," he shouted, his mouth filling with the water for another gargle. After five minutes he was as red as a boiled lobster-or crab.
Loxley looked like a prince when he strode into the cocktail party, but he smelled like a princess.
Billy Jack had been drinking quite a bit and caught the scent of the New York manager. "Well golly damn, Lox, you smell right pretty! Good enough to eat; don't he, Ellen?"
Ellen was flying before she got to the party; now she was really high. Nobody'd ever seen her like that before-sedate old Ellen Speakman! She laughed drunkenly and draped herself over Loxley's shoulder, sniffling at his ear. "My gosh, he doesh slimell gish like a flower!"
He pushed her away, then he had a magnificent idea. An evil gleam sparkled in his dark brown eyes and he whispered to both of his friends. "Hey, did either of you have anything to do with that old bitch Sapphire?"
"Why?" they both asked.
"Because not only do her girls and she all have clap and crabs, they have syph!"
Billy Jack stopped dead in the middle of a laugh and his face looked like he'd just eaten a very bad oyster. He couldn't talk but let out a slight whimper.
"What'sh that-that slituff?" Ellen asked. She'd never heard of those things. Martinez smiled, then looked very serious.
"Syph is a disease you get from women that makes your head swell up and fall off on the floor. And there's absolutely no cure known to modern medicine for it! And if you've been with either Sapphire or any of her friends, you've got it. Get religion!"
"You mean it's fatal?" Ellen asked. She was sobering rapidly.
"And it's a rotten way to go. You'd better get your things in order, Ellen." Loxley looked as though he might have been fingering the pennies to place on her eyelids.
"But why aren't Sapphire and the girls dead?"
"They're on their way! You could see it in their eyes!"
All of a sudden a wave of nausea covered him and he raced for the men's room. Billy Jack was right on his heels as he went in.
"Hey, Lox, you shittin' about that up there?"
Loxley was heaving his guts out into the urinal and his eyes were watering. He gargled with a mouthful of water and heaved once again.
"By Gar, I guess you ain't kiddin' at that!" Billy Jack was plunged into a silent depression and he felt like crying. A triple-header in Miami-the convention should have met in the Sahara Desert or at the South Pole.
But what to do now? He knew Ellen and Loxley were infected and so were Norma Jean, the Okatas, the Hollywood producer and old Stevenson's new girl. Therefore Stevenson must have it, and Mrs. Stevenson, too! He seriously doubted Ellen had touched anybody. Then he revised his opinion. She might have been into all sorts of mischief. Billy Jack's neck was itching and so were his eyebrows.
Then he remembered and whimpered softly. "Golly damn, Lox, what we gonna do about this? We done went and got ourselves in one nice fix!"
Loxley cleared his throat and tried to talk. He, too, was itching. It was driving him crazy, the itching. He didn't have enough hands to scratch everywhere at once and was doing kneebends against the corner of the toilet stall to reach his back.
Billy Jack was beside himself. Watching Loxley itch was making him itch worse and it seemed his skin was burning off. And there wasn't a Goddamned thing he could do about it except scratch. His crotch was especially bad. He whimpered again.
"We've got to pull ourselves together, old man," Loxley said to him. "And find ourselves a doctor."
In a few minutes they were once again in control and had decided to find out who was involved. Ellen could supply the first clue.
"Ellen," Loxley said, "may I ask you an ... ah ... rather delicate question? It would be helpful if you'd tell us...."
"Shure, Loxsh," she laughed. She was drunker than before.
"Has anybody ... er ... touched you-I mean, you know ... like on or near ... ah ... your ... ah...."
"You mean has anybody fucked me?" she blurted. A silence fell over the marble-floored room and everybody looked at her. Old Grimshaw couldn't believe his ears.
"Sssshhh," Loxley whispered. He scowled at the old lady. "Yes, did anybody fuck you? ... if that's how you're used to putting it."
"Shure, Lox," she laughed, spilling her drink slowly into her lap. "Lotsha people."
"Anybody here?"
"Why, shure, dosh people right there!" She pointed at Lou and Marilyn who stood transfixed by the finger of the accuser. Lou tried to melt and wished he were hunting somewhere, but he knew that everybody would merely regard her as a drunken old lady.
Stevenson was concerned about the commotion and left Monica to get right to the bottom of everything. He knew that the center of the disturbance was with Loxley, Billy Jack and Ellen, so he headed that way.
"What's going on here, boy?"
"Ellen's juiced, skipper, that's all. But there is one problem. And that's this." Billy Jack put his arm around Stevenson's shoulder and whispered. He was nodding and itching one calf with the sole of his other foot.
Stevenson was becoming as white as a sheet and he, too, started to scratch here and there. All of a sudden he became very nervous and started waving his arms up and down. Then he had to scratch his armpit. It felt as if he had fleas or armies of mad ants.
"Golly damn, skipper," Billy Jack whined, "sheeit-fire! I can't help it! Wasn't none of my doin' that you got yourself...."
"That'll do," Stevenson exploded. Then, more quietly but with a private little menacing smile he repeated it. "That'll do."
Everybody at the party started breaking up into small groups to discuss what possibly could have happened. There seemed to be something very wrong with Stevenson, but lots of people were acting strangely.
Norma Jean broke away from the Japanese couple and rushed over to Billy Jack. He was explaining to her, before she left, how his act about being a partner of Irv's was just an act to get a little good pussy. And Norma Jean was a good sport about it. Now she wondered what was troubling Billy Jack.
When she returned to her new friends her face was blanched and drawn. She looked like she'd just been sucked clean by a vampire.
"What's the matter?" Taiiko asked her.
They held a private huddle and both the Okatas turned pale also. Ikuni started off for a round of drinks and Okata yelled, "No! No alcohol. That's the worst thing in the world when you have...."
"Have what, for pity sake?" Mrs. Stevenson asked. She'd just come in from her rendezvous and was standing next to the Okatas.
Stevenson signaled to her and explained what Billy Jack and the rest seemed to have contracted.
As-the blood drained from her face he knew that she'd been getting diddled again. But she saw his trembling hand and knew it wasn't shaking out of a highly developed sense of paternalism for his managers' states of health. No, he was into it, too.
Ellen was talking with four people from Idaho, obviously enjoying her state of health. She was so drunk she could hardly stand and was relating something to the group she thought to be incredibly funny. But they weren't laughing. They were gazing at her, open-mouthed, with undisguised horror in their eyes.
Linda broke down and sobbed, her face in her hands.
Bob's hands were spread out, palms upward. He was looking toward the ceiling and snaking his head. "Why me?" he asked.
Lou gulped his drink down and finished Ellen's. Then he stalked off to the bar. He needed a drink to straighten out his head.
Monica was the last to know-with the exception of Grimshaw. Grimshaw had purchased a small rent on her tail just before the party. But she didn't intend to tell him what she'd heard. Somebody else could. Fifty bucks didn't include condolences.
Monica wasn't at all worried. People died all the time where she came from. Yet, it did seem rather a pity.
Irv the producer would never know. The manicurist had found him and had immediately gone for the house detective. Barney Ryan had heard a lot of cock-and-bull stories in his thirty-seven years as a house dick, but this one beat them all.
He just couldn't believe the Japanese had rushed into the room with razor-sharp Samurai swords and kidnaped his second wife. He invited the man to call the FBI but Irv blanched, saying that they'd surely murder her after torture if he called.
Now Irv was driving down U.S. One, looking for a nice high-class hi-rise hotel somewhere north of Miami-Miami was getting a bit hot. Ft. Lauderdale was looking very good.
Sapphire and the girls were all laughing their heads off. But Carol wanted to know why Sapphire would play such a dirty trick on anybody.
Some of the others also wanted to know. Burning off money clients was never a good move from what they could see.
"Gather round, children," she'd laughed. "Time for a lesson in simple economics. Now gimme yo' ears for a minute."
"First, what were those people, every last one of 'em?"
"Swingers?"
"Right, Pistol. Head of de class! Now den, swingers don't go spendin' no money on us-they ball each other, right?"
"Right!" they echoed.
"An who's dyin' to come two days early for their big convention?"
Pistol once again showed her superior knowledge of the scene. "The Royal Order of Mountain Goats!"
"Right once again, Pistol, hun!"
But Carol wasn't satisfied. "I still think telling them something awful like that is just the height of meanness!" She rather liked Loxley.
"Honey chile," Sapphire said, "won't you ever learn? These people ain' spenders and words don't never hurt nothin'! If they have bad consciouses let 'em live wid it! Ain' no problem of ours, right! A good scare might do 'em some good-sort of square 'em away so they start comin' to us again and leave the swingin' to others. Now, sweet, does that make sense?"
Carol nodded sullenly. It made sense but it was still a nasty trick to play on paying customers.
Sapphire and Pistol were laughing their heads off and the other girls wanted to know what was so funny.
"Can you imagine the hullabaloo goin' on in that there ballroom at this very minute? Can you imagine the hell those porr dumb people is goin' through? Why, in the whole mob I'd bet there ain' one who ain' sweatin' his tail off! Har har har!"
Stevenson, Loxley and Billy Jack were having an emergency meeting in the men's washroom. They had two options-call old Doc Trimble, the company's physician, for a complete examination for all of them, or go home and each go to a doctor under an assumed name.
"Trimble will squeal," Loxley muttered in dissent.
"Where the hell we gonna go where we're not known?" asked Billy Jack. He was pouting between scratches. He felt the tip of his cock burning and he thought it was going to fall off. It itched terribly and was wet. There was nothing he could do but rub it.
Loxley's cock was sore also, and he was on the verge of hysteria.
Stevenson was annoyed. His cock burned more than any of the others and all he could do was tub it.
After a few minutes it was decided that the meeting should be broken up immediately. Everybody was to keep his mouth shut-strictly shut. And there'd be a nice bonus check on the fifteenth. Discretion. And medical care. But mostly discretion.
Mr. and Mrs. Stevenson were up in their room, hurriedly tossing their clothes into two large suitcases. Their cab was to be there in ten minutes and have them at the airport in time for the seven-fifteen flight to Des Moines.
Stevenson looked exactly like a deflated stuffed shirt, and Mrs. Stevenson stopped and stole a glance at him. His lower lip was out so far he looked like a ninny. She laughed and walked over to him.
"Honest to God, honey," she sang, "won't you ever grow up? You're exactly like a big fat old little boy! You're crazy!"
Stevenson looked at his wife in disbelief. How dare she talk like that! "I'm not so old and fat," he said. Then he smiled at her and put his arms around her and kissed her on the lips. He didn't think her mouth tasted any different than usual and she was awfully pretty.
Taiiko and Ikuni were both very quiet. Taiiko wanted to sever somebody's head with a karate chop but he didn't know how to do karate. And that made him madder. He could swear he felt things crawling around in his pubic hairs, and his cock was burning like fury. It was the first time he'd ever wished he had a small cock like other men.
He knew a nice Jewish doctor in Harlem who'd fix them up in a hurry-if it killed them all!
The quartet from Idaho was involved in a soul-searching session. Lou was only semiconscious, so his wife had to pack for both of them. It was hard to reconcile incest, but done was done. There were, after all, worse things. Incest was a matter of opinion and taste-nothing more, nothing less. Having children that way was, really, the only problem about it. Something about chromosomes.
Monica was sitting on the toilet seat with her large mirror looking at her cunt. She couldn't see anything more than a good old irritation from too much screwing. She'd seen that many times before. She was still going to go to work for Stevenson and it looked as if she were going to pick up some pin-money from Silas Grimshaw, the actuary.
That is, if someone didn't queer it by telling him.
Monica thought it was all a bunch of rubbish and she pulled up her pants and straightened her tennis skirt. Then she made her way down to Sapphire's room.
Billy Jack was irritable and Norma Jean was snappish. They both blamed each other, and Billy Jack just couldn't see how he could have given anything to anybody except maybe Mrs. Stevenson. But maybe he got it from her. He didn't want to talk about it. They had a long ride home and he was going to drive all night-if his prick would stop burning.
Loxley sat on the edge of the bed and bawled. Several people walking by his door stopped and listened. It's not every day you hear a grown man sobbing like a child.
He looked at his mustache, his eyebrows, his lush, white streaked hair. "Gone," he cried, "all gone! I'll have to walk around looking like a Martian for months-My beautiful hair!" And he wondered if he'd have to have his whole body shaved, the backs of his fingers and all.
Everybody said good-bye at the party and the hotel was losing a good number of paying guests. The manager didn't understand, but, being an on-his-toes type of guy, he was calling the office of the Royal Order of Mountain Goats to let them know they could come two days earlier than they'd anticipated. When he was finished with the call he smiled. They were really big spenders and were all vacation bachelors. He'd get spiff from Sapphire.
U.S. One was jammed. The rush-hour traffic was causing Billy Jack's blood to boil as hard as the water in the car's radiator. A Country Western station was blaring out Johnny Cash's Ring of Fire and he instantly thought of Sapphire and her girls. He viciously twisted the station selector, almost ripping it off.
"Golly, Billy Jack," Norma Jean said, "you're sure in one bad mood this afternoon. The world ain't gonna come to an end, you know!" She was gazing intently out her window. Her Hollywood career was gone, crushed, an unfulfilled dream.
All of a sudden she let out a whoop of delight. "Billy Jack!" she screamed, "stop the car, stop the car!"
He jammed on his brakes and was almost hit by a semi-trailer full of synthetic mango juice. The burly driver shook a ham-sized fist at Billy Jack and swung by.
"What is it?"
"Looky there, Billy Jack," she squealed, "it's Irving! Maybe my career isn't washed up! Can we talk to him for a minute?"
Billy Jack's forehead was resting on the steering wheel and he thought he was really going to cry.
"Please, Billy Jack? I'll let you have a six-pack if you do!"
No man could prevail against such a deal and he pulled in. His eyes narrowed as he watched the effusive man gesturing while engaged in conversation with a good-looking young woman dressed in a bikini. The woman seemed to be posing right there.
