Dean Joslin flung his luggage into the trunk of the car, slammed down the lid, and began to stride toward the driver's seat. His wife, Evelyn, restrained him. "Let me drive, dear," she suggested. "Business trips always seem to wear you down so. You look beat!"
Even as Evelyn was maneuvering the car out of the airport parking lot, Dean sank to the floor beside her and began to fumble with her dress. Sensing what he was about, she lifted her body and allowed him to shove her skirt above her hips. Kneeling there on the floor, Dean eagerly separated her legs. He delved his fervent tongue into the soft, furry cup between her thighs-a cup filled to the brim now with intoxicating, aromatic juices!
Keeping a careful eye on the road as she drove, Evelyn scissored apart her golden, satiny legs to receive his questing tongue. "Oh Dean, Dean," she moaned, "if you only knew how much I wanted that! I know it's only been two days, darling, but it's been like two days in the desert without water! I wanted your cock, your fingers, your tongue ... yes, yes, lick me down there, my darling! Fuck me with that stiff tongue of yours!"
Her ecstasy mounting, Evelyn frantically unbuttoned her dress all the way down the front, loving the rush of cool, clean air on her breasts and belly, welcoming the contrast with Dean's hot, laving mouth. As the fire within spread from her pussy to her asshole and nipples, she cried for Dean's mouth to extinguish it. Bucking her body frenziedly, she rammed one knee up against the dashboard while she strained to spread her legs even farther. The eager forward thrusting of her hips was an invitation to Dean's mouth and nose to roam at will ... to plunder and spread havoc at will through the mysterious, brush-overgrown valley where pulpy, warm quicksands threaten to engulf the unwary male.
Evelyn reached down her right hand and mussed his hair while Dean grunted and slavered like a starved animal over the rich feast spread beneath his chin. "God," she murmured, "it's almost worth it, losing you to those stupid conventions for a couple of days if it means rediscovering one another like this when you return!"
By now, Dean had actually plunged his face beneath her pussy. His cheek glued to the seat, his tongue roamed the glistening furrow between twat and asshole. She was almost sitting on his head.
"Oh what heaven this is," Evelyn cooed, "having you give it to me like this right out here on the highway in the middle of traffic with everyone looking-and no one seeing!" She scooped her tits out of the open front of her dress and dropping a gob of spit on each nipple, commenced to caress and mangle her luscious boobs with her free hand.
"I wish everyone could see you feeding on me," Evelyn declared with mounting fervor. "I wish everyone could see how my strong, wonderful, hard-tongued husband had to have his wife's delicious home-packed box lunch even though they fed him on the plane. What did they feed you, darling? Swiss steak? Fried chicken? Hot pussy? Did the stewardess yank her dress up in front of you and let you nibble at her conceited cunt right there in front of all the passengers? Bring your tongue a little higher, Dean ... yes, that's right. Oh, darling, darling, make your tongue like a hard, mean cock! I'm coming ... I'm coming...."
A torrent of fresh juice swept down the dark valley as her body jerked and trembled in the throes of orgasm. For a couple of minutes there was no sound in the car except Evelyn's deep breathing as her passion canned, and the sound of Dean's tongue greedily lapping the goodness between her legs. At last he raised himself from the floor and fell back in his seat.
"Wow," he breathed softly, "that was the best box lunch I've put away in many a month."
"Even better than the stewardess'?" Evelyn pouted, her attention once more entirely on the road. She raised her beautifully contoured ass and swept her skirts beneath it.
"I have a confession," Dean grinned. "I didn't eat the stewardess. I drank her. She bent over in front of me and these big boobs came tumbling right out the front of her blouse. So naturally-"
"Wipe your mouth," Evelyn suggested, giggling. "Your chin is still dripping!"
Dean pulled out a handkerchief and mopped his mouth and chin. "You really were wet down there this time," he remarked. "It was like lapping up a custard that hasn't quite set. Next time I'm going to wear a bib!"
"Is that an objection?" she queried haughtily.
"Darling, have I ever objected to anything?" Dean wanted to know.
"Come to think of it, no," she replied after a moment's cheerful reflection. "We certainly do get along well, I've got to admit that."
"Speaking of getting along," Dean remarked, glancing out the window, "we don't seem to be getting much of anywhere right now. What the hell's holding up traffic, do you suppose?" They had entered a long vehicular tunnel. Traffic was solid before and behind them. An occasional car passed in the opposite direction. They sat there; minutes dragged by.
"This really frosts me!" Dean grumbled. "If this had happened on the road, we could at least get out and stretch our legs. Here though, there's not a frigging thing we can do."
"There's something else we could stretch," Evelyn observed pertly.
"Oh? What's that?"
"Your dick." She unzipped him, ran her hand inside his pants and scooped out his sweating, half-hard sausage. "Look dear," she said earnestly, "if we keep low in our seat no one can possibly see us. Let me satisfy you. Let me french your cock. I know you're dying for it." She darted out her livid, quicksilver tongue and tickled the head of his rod, removing a sparkling drop of pre-come that had oozed out while he was eating her.
"Oh boy, that would be heaven," he declared. "I mean, two whole days without you, Evelyn, and my cream is backed all the way up into my tonsils. At least that's what it feels like. It wasn't so bad for the other salesmen. They were picking stuff up in bars right and left and bringing it back to their rooms. But you and I have always been faithful to one another and I don't intend to start whoring around now. But it is hard, sometimes!"
"It gets very hard sometimes," Evelyn remarked innocently, squeezing his prong until the head stood out, a huge purple knob, like a lethal weapon in her clutching fingers. Now it was her turn to slide to the floor. Sitting, rather than kneeling, she lay her cheek on the seat cushion and glancing wide-eyed at her husband, said softly, "Fuck me in the mouth, dear."
Dean trembled in his eagerness to comply. Propping his body sidewise, he slipped his straining organ into Evelyn's gaping mouth. He moved his hips very slowly at first, enjoying to the utmost the mere immersion of his nervously twitching organ in the pool of warm, loving wetness, the soft, lizard-like tongue rising occasionally to stroke the bulging underside of his cock, to lift it and mash it tenderly against the palate or to nudge it gently into the softness of her cheek.
In time, as he felt his sperm begin to simmer deep within his balls, Dean commenced to make his thrusts more insistent, deeper, more passionate. He took Evelyn's head in one hand and stroked it as he whispered, "Suck me now, darling. Make your mouth into a pussy and hold my dick tight. My cock has found a home between your lips, that's where it wants to stay. I'm glad we're stuck in this tunnel, Evelyn. I'm glad we didn't have to wait until we got all the way home for you to french me. There's nothing in the world more wonderful than this-I'd be willing to stay here the rest of the night, just sucking and eating ... sucking and eating ... that's right, darling, suck hard! Yes, yes, I can see your cheeks are hollow, you're really straining to drink me dry, aren't you? Strain hard, lover, strain hard ... Oh Jesus...."
Dean's pants had fallen down around his knees and he was slamming his hips into Evelyn's face with truly maniacal frenzy, his balls audibly slapping against her chin, sweat beads starting out all over his crotch and running down his thighs. His face was contorted as if in agony. He literally screamed when he came and for a full two minutes later he continued to ease his rubbery-firm dick in and out of her mouth.
Evelyn merely lay there patiently, her head still on its side. She had done her best to swallow the scalding gush of Dean's scum as it erupted in her mouth, but some still oozed, a pearly white trickle, from a comer of her lips. At length, her husband's soft tool fell out of its own accord and he collapsed onto his seat. Evelyn, her hair, makeup, and dress a shambles, dragged herself back behind the wheel. "Oh shit!" she moaned, "traffic's starting to move again. No time for seconds." She patted Dean's cheek as she placed the car in motion. "Never mind, sweet. Wait'll we get home. Then we'll really make the dishes rattle!"
Dean spoke only in fatigued whispers the rest of the way home. As they stepped inside, he said, "I think I'll shower and lie down, dear. Call me in half an hour, will you? I swear, I've never felt so exhausted!" He hailed their son, Ken, who was sitting on the sofa watching television. Then he walked slowly upstairs.
Evelyn began to prepare dinner. When she had gotten things well under way, she told Ken, "Call Daddy, will you? He's probably dozed off in bed. You know he likes to rest before dinner." Ken ran upstairs two steps at a time. A moment later he was back.
His lips trembled as he said, "Mother, you better come upstairs and have a look at Dad. I shook him several times and he didn't move. I-I think something's wrong!"
Her heart pounding, Evelyn flew to the bedroom. She took one look at Dean, then phoned Dr. Clyne on the bedroom extension. The doctor arrived fifteen minutes later. He felt Dean's pulse, put a stethoscope to his chest, then shook his head. His eyes were grave as he glanced silently at Evelyn.
"Doctor!" Evelyn cried. "You don't mean he's-he's-"
The doctor patted her arm. "It was a peaceful way to go," he assured her. "He never knew what happened." When pressed as to the cause of Dean's death, Dr. Clyne said an autopsy would be necessary.
The following three days were a nightmare for both Evelyn and Ken as they struggled to make funeral arrangements and tie up the loose ends of their lives. Everything would be different now that Dean was gone. They knew that. But just how different, neither could have dreamed!
The day after the funeral, Evelyn consulted with Dr. Clyne once more. "The autopsy leaves us no room for doubt," he reported. "It was a heart attack. His heart was in very poor shape. He was a classic cardiac case. I'm surprised he never came to me about it. Didn't he ever complain of weakness, or numbness in the arm?"
"Well yes, but we didn't really think it was serious."
The doctor frowned. "He has lots of company," he said. "Many a man with a weak heart is walking around just begging for trouble-working like a demon, drinking like a fish, trying to have intercourse every night-"
"Oh dear!" Evelyn cried.
The physician stopped short. "What's the matter?" he asked.
"Do you think that nightly intercourse is too frequent for a heart patient?" Evelyn inquired fearfully. "I must tell you, doctor, that
Dean and I always practiced it at least twice a night. Sometimes even more frequently. Now, I can't help wondering-"
Dr. Clyne shrugged. "Some patients can enjoy a very satisfactory sex life," he declared, "but they have to use a certain amount of common sense. If a heart case keeps his sexual contacts down to one or two a week and goes about it in a calm, unhurried manner, there's really no danger, usually. It's these people who have to have it several times a night and throw themselves into a frenzy while they're about it who are headed for real trouble!"
Evelyn stared into her lap without speaking.
The physician became noticeably more kindly as he went on: "Did-did you and Mr. Joslin have intercourse the day of the tragedy?"
There were tears in Evelyn's eyes as she replied. "Yes. Yes, we did. And we pretty well knocked ourselves out in the process. We-we always did that. Oh, Dr. Clyne-I feel like a murderer! When I think of how often I tempted Dean into bed, I just feel sick! I was killing him by slow degrees! Oh God, if I'd only realized-"
Dr. Clyne restrained her firmly. "That's something we don't know," he insisted. "I forbid you to think that way. In the first place, you were absolutely unaware of Mr. Joslin's condition. Secondly, we have no proof that sexual intercourse was actually responsible for his death. It could have been a partial cause, that's all I'm saying. Please, don't ever think of yourself as in any way guilty. Promise me that!"
Evelyn promised, with a wan smile. But as she left the physician's office, she told herself over and over, if only I hadn't been so eager! If only I had been a little more restrained-Dean could be alive today!
She went home and tried to occupy her mind in the thousand and one details that had to be taken care of now that she and her son were alone in the world. There were insurance matters, little odds and ends of Dean's business affairs, bills to be paid, and many others. Fortunately, Dean had left her handsomely provided for, financially speaking, so she had no worries on that score. But how was she to get through her days and nights without a loving husband?
Especially the nights. When she left Dr. Clyne that morning, Evelyn was as nearly convinced as a human can be that it would be a very long time before sex could claim even the slightest interest for her. From now on, she would always associate sex with tragedy, she was certain.
But that very same evening as she sat watching television long after Ken had gone to bed, she felt the old familiar fire flaring within her. The movie she was watching on the late show was a simple, plain-spun romance that had nothing erotic about it whatsoever. Yet Evelyn's mind colored it with all sorts of carnal implications.
As the hero and heroine seated themselves on a front porch swing and a banjo began to plunk dreamily somewhere off in the distance, Evelyn found herself murmuring under her breath, "Go ahead, you fool, fuck her! What are you being so slow for? Who needs all this long talk? Why don't you show her how you really love her? Run your hands up under her dress and make her spread her thighs a little. That's what she really wants! Slide your hand inside her panties ... feel her pussy ... I'll bet it's sopping wet! She's creaming for you, you jerk, and you're too stupid to realize it! Oh my God, look-he's kissing her. On the lips of all places! Get down on your knees and kiss her where she wants it. She wants your mouth on her itching twat! How long are you going to make her wait?"
Then Evelyn turned her attention to the heroine. "Encourage him, you little fool," she muttered to the demurely clad young actress. "Show him your tits. Grab his cock-it's dark-no one will see you! Why don't you enjoy what you have while you still have it? He won't always be there with you on that front porch, he'll go away someday as my man did. Why can't you see there's no time to be lost? It he's timid, you have to be bold. Take his hand and put it on your ass. Talk dirty to him. Lie down on that porch swing ... make him lie down on top of you. Unfasten his belt. Slide his pants down and help him take out his dick...."
Ken could not sleep. Immediately after going to bed that night he had dozed off into an uneasy, dream-torn slumber, then awakened after an hour to he staring at the ceiling. The suddeness of recent events had shaken him to the core. He could not imagine what life could possibly be like without his father and he dreaded the future.
After a time he sat up in bed and looked at the alarm clock. Only half-past twelve! Maybe if he had something hot to drink he'd feel more like sleeping. Barefoot, he stumbled out of his room and made for the stairs. He was only part way down when he realized something unusual was occuring.
Oh God, what was wrong with his mother? He had never seen her like this before. She had thrown off her robe and was kneeling naked on the floor in front of the television screen. In the flickering, cold light from the screen he could see her face was agonized, her nude body streaming with sweat. Both hands were wedged between her legs and though that part of her body was in shadow, he knew well what she was doing to herself. "Fuck me," she moaned, her eyes glaring from under half-closed lids, "come down off that screen and stick it to me hard! That stupid little nobody you're in love with won't do you any good. A good-night kiss on the front porch is all you'll get from her! No, no, darling, look at me! I want your cock between my legs, I want your hands on my breasts, I want you to grab my ass and squeeze it till I scream!"
Shocked, Ken paused in mid-step. He gulped, watched for another minute just to convince himself that this was really happening and that he hadn't lost his mind, then turned and went silently back to his room.
So that's how it was for adults! He had never seen a naked woman before in his entire life and the sight of one clawing at herself while moaning the vilest obscenities made him think deeply. It was like opening a door to a whole new world of joys and passions and delights that made everything he had known previously seem like yesterday's warmed-over oatmeal.
So that's what it was like to be an adult. That's what a naked woman looked like. That's what they did to themselves, bare, gasping, slavering! He could not banish from his mind the sight of Evelyn kneeling on the rug, shaking the delectable fullness of her ass like a whip.
Even if it was his own mother. Lying there atop the bed with the covers thrown back, he felt his dick harden suddenly. There was a quick, ecstatic throb, then he felt the cream gush out over his belly.
CHAPTER TWO
LEWD LITERATURE
Evelyn slept late the next morning. As she drifted slowly into wakefulness and began to remember how she had let a mere shadow on the television screen reduce her to gibbering near-insanity, she felt deeply ashamed and a blush flared across her face.
I won't do that again, she resolved. It-it was just a reaction from the worry and strain of the last few days! I needed a physical outlet for my emotions and a silly old movie on the late show somehow made everything crystallize. In a way, she was glad it had happened. Because it had brought her face to face with the problem that had been haunting her in the back of her mind even since that dreadful evening she found she had lost Dean. The problem was simply this: how was she to occupy her time from now on?
Certainly she was not obliged to rush out and find a job. Between insurance, bonds, and other investments, she had enough money to handle her needs for quite a number of years. Should she engage in charitable work? Should she find an all-consuming hobby that would leave her no time for morbid thoughts? As a girl she had been very much interested in painting.
And there was a time in college when she had been certain she wanted to be a writer.
The more she reflected, the more she convinced herself that now was the time to pick up the loose threads of her life and find out what she was really good for. Since she hadn't painted or done any serious writing for years, she decided to go down to the public library that very day and pick up a half-dozen books on each subject.
What to wear? She grimaced as she faced her closetful of clothes. There was no question about the color: as a recent widow she could only wear black. Black dress. Black straw hat. Black shoes. In a sudden gesture of rebellion, she suddenly blurted, "Hell! I'll conform on the outside, but I'm damned if I'll conform underneath!"
Feeling splendidly defiant, she ripped off the panties, bra, and slip she had already donned and slipped the black dress over her abundantly endowed, sleek, bare body. Then she put on her hat and shoes and surveyed herself in the full-length mirror.
No question about it-she made a beautiful widow. Even if she was all of thirty-three years old, she still had the slimmest waist on the block ... lush flaring hips ... two bosomy knobs that strained and threatened to burst from the confines of her tight frock ... legs that swirled from ankle to ass in one continuous, perfect curve.
She worried for just a moment as she stared at her reflection. Shouldn't she have worn a bra? Couldn't the dark haloes around her nipples be seen through the thin fabric? Then she turned her back to the mirror. Wasn't the crack between her magnificent ass-globes a bit too noticeable? Without panties or girdle, didn't it jut and jiggle too brazenly when she walked? She strode up and down before the mirror. Heavens, her feminine endowments certainly were not bashful! They seemed to bob, wiggle, bounce, and jitter with a will of their own.
Never mind! That's how she was built and that's what people would see! If the younger women could get away with it, so could she. It wasn't as if she had to retire to a nunnery just because her husband had passed away.
At the library she spent a good many minutes in her choice of books. There were not as many on the arts as she had hoped for; she had to be content with two on the subject of painting and three on "How to write a short story," but that was enough for a start. Then, feeling she might do well to take along something in a lighter vein-a novel, or biography, or book of essays, for example-she began to explore further.
It had been years since Evelyn had investigated much beyond the cookbooks and decorating manuals. Apparently the library had made many additions recently. There was a whole new wing at the back. At the very end of the new wing she found a room filled with a queer jumble of books. She gathered that a wealthy person had bequeathed his entire collection to the library-there were volumes on exploration ... science ... sex....
She had to smile at seeing books on sex displayed so openly. When she was a girl, such books had been securely locked up behind glass. They could be examined only on special application to the stern faced spinster librarian whose manner said plainly: "You shouldn't!" Evelyn glanced casually at some of the titles, then went on to peruse an art folio.
She hardly noticed when a man entered the room and began, like herself, to look through the shelves at random. It was not until he halted at the section containing the sex books and began to examine them with persistent interest that she really fastened her attention on him. He was a man in his mid to late thirties, conservatively dressed and with a gentlemanly manner. Evelyn's heart skipped a beat as she noted the obvious and growing bulge in his pants. Heavens, she thought, he can't be getting much if he's excited by merely flipping through a book! Still though, there's no telling what precisely he was looking at. Maybe there were illustrations! Maybe-maybe it was one of those books that actually showed photos of people screwing in all the various positions!
She just had to see what was stimulating him so. Edging as near as she dared, Evelyn glanced at the open book from the comer of her eye. What she saw! Someone-a borrower perhaps-has slipped a large, five by eight photo between the pages of the book. And what a photo! It showed an ardent young blonde who couldn't have been a day over eighteen accepting the favors of three different males at once. She was kneeling over a young man who, lying flat on his back, was smilingly ramming her vagina with his huge erect cock. At the same time, another male-a heavy brutish looking fellow, was thrusting his dong up her prettily curved ass. Finally, the girl was ardently sucking the prick of the man who stood grinning immediately in front of her!
Evelyn swallowed. A kind of red mist seemed to cover her vision, then it faded. Getting down on one knee beside the man, she pretended to be interested in scanning the titles on the bottom-most shelf. She took only a moment. When she rose to a half-stooped position, her dress had become bunched up well above her knees, almost to her crotch. Still stooped over, her breathtakingly sinuous rear end thrust brazenly up into the air, she pretended to examine the books on the third shelf very closely. "Oh dear," she murmured, as if to herself, "I really do need my glasses...." In her apparent efforts to see better, she placed her hands on her knees and squirmed slightly. This had the effect of drawing her skirt up so far that her ass shone, clearly visible. At the same time, of course, her thighs were completely disclosed, making it evident how tightly they fleshed out her stocking tops and how deeply her garters bit into the soft, smoothly shaven skin. Her legs were planted wide apart on their high heels to show how plainly, even from the rear, Evelyn's lavish shock of glossy, brown pussyhair.
From this exaggerated posture, Evelyn could not, naturally, see what the man was doing behind her. But she could see, by turning her head ever so slightly, how his cock strained and jerked spontaneously inside his pants leg. Still pretending to talk only to herself, Evelyn invented an imaginary list of titles: "What strange books they put out nowadays," she murmured. '"The Art of Masturbation' ... 'Bigger Breasts Attract the Male' ... 'Mouth-Genital Contact-Is It in Good Taste? ... 'Sodomy Won't Hurt You...."
Evelyn shammed impatience. "Heavens, what formal language!" she blurted in an undertone. "Why don't they come right out and say what they mean? 'Mouth-Genital Contact' indeed! Why don't they just say 'cocksucking' and 'pussylapping' and be done with it! And what do they mean, 'Sodomy Won't Hurt You'? Good Lord, I'd never want anybody shoving his cock up my ass again!"
Evelyn was silent a moment, wondering if her words had had a chance to sink in. She was not left in doubt long. A deep thrill crackled through her as she felt the man's tentative fingers glide gently over her upswelling, protuberant ass and heard him say tremulously, "After all, these books are written by a lot of old professors. The people who are really expert in these things don't have time to write about them."
Now the man was gently separating the sublime meaty mounds that formed her rear end, separating them, fondling them, running his questing finger up and down the hot, slickly gleaming ravine that divided them. His finger was very loving. It asked, implored, and soothed-not at all arrogant or assuming. Evelyn began to breathe in long, audible sighs.
"That's true," she murmured without looking at him. "There-there are some experiences that really can't be expressed in writing."
Now the finger had gone underneath her crotch. It was sliding politely but determinedly toward the sacred mouth that gaped passionately, feverently beneath its shaggy beard. Evelyn knew she was dripping down there. She could feel sticky wetness in her pussy, in her bush, on her thighs. She wondered if the man would be repelled by the outpouring of scented liquid. But he said nothing.
Now that Evelyn had shown that she was not above relaxing with a stranger to enjoy a little sport on an otherwise dull morning, the hands became bolder. Now they were actually rummaging through her treasures, imperiously thrusting apart her completely exposed buttocks, squirming through her pussy hair, seeking impudent admission to her asshole, and rampaging insolently in her ardent, but still bashful twat!
All this was performed from behind. At times the stranger must have been standing, at other times kneeling. Evelyn could only guess his posture from his manipulation of her intimate parts. He suddenly shoved her dress all the way up to her tits, laying her magnificent torso completely bare!
Evelyn gulped. What would happen if they were discovered this way? But she only said, "Oh, thank you for doing that, sir. The way they make dresses nowadays, it's so difficult for a woman to move about freely in them."
"You're quite welcome," the man said courteously. "Have you found what you're looking for yet?"
"Not yet," Evelyn replied easily, pretending to scan the titles in the stacks more intently. "I don't think I'll be satisfied until I find something that's a little more to he point!"
Her straining ears were rewarded by the sound she had been longing to hear: that of a zipper being slowly opened. She waited, trembling, her almost nude body still stooped forward, legs planted far apart, ass high upthrust in the air.
When it happened, it was as though she had never been fucked before. The divinely insistent thrust of a cock so long, so exquisitely penetrating that she half expected to feel the head squirm in her throat ... the sensation of the man's balls, firmly cupped against his rigidly locked thighs as they smeared like two oily marbles against her sensitive crotch .. his hands valorously thrust up inside her dress, fondling and squeezing the delicious ornaments that dangled from her chest.
Evelyn began to rotate and wiggle her hips, trying to force them higher, trying to ram them backward towards the man's powerful frame. She was breathing harder now, her breath coming in ever deeper gasps. Her lovely body was running with rivulets of sweat that strained the armpits of her dress, streamed down over her belly and made her crotch a swampy morass of mingled juices.
"Fuck! Fuck!" she wheezed. Lifting one hand from her knee, she made it explore between her legs, trying to feel the man's pile driving prick as it slammed into her. She cuddled his wildly swinging balls in her slim, aristocratic fingers, squeezing them, pinching them. "Screw the living shit out of me, you stud!" she cried, oblivious to anyone who might hear. "Oh! Oh!" In her ecstasy her hand found the book the man had been paging through. She yanked it off the shelf, shook it violently. When the photo fluttered out, she seized it; her eyes devoured it ravenously. "That's the way to do it," she groaned. "Any woman who can't take on three at a time is no woman! Oh God, wouldn't it be wonderful to have three men come inside me at once? To feel their hot scum boiling into my pussy ... flooding inside my asshole ... and pouring down my throat all at once!"
Now the violent slamming thrusts almost knocked Evelyn off her feet. If if had not been for the man's supporting hands cupping under her breasts, she would have fallen. She knew he was about to come and she could feel her own orgasm starting to spread its delicious electric tingle through her mid-section. Strangely, both were silent at the actual moment of orgasm. Somehow it seemed more appropriate to let their bodies speak ... their twitching, sweating, hard-driving organs were speaking to one another in the most basic way known to humans. Her vagina felt the spurting, streaming, spattering outpouring from his intensely ramming dick, and as the pussylips contracted on his wetly skidding rod they seemed to be saying, "Thank you ... thank you...."
After their orgasm both stood there crouched over for several minutes, she bent forward, hands on knees; he folded over her, his cock still inside. Both were simply savoring the aftermath. At last his dick became so soft she could no longer hold it within her and it fell out with a slurpy, sucking sound.
Evelyn stood up-it hurt her to straighten up after crouching for so long-and faced the man for the first time. She knew she looked a positive wreck. Her wet, matted hair hung in ropes around her face. Her dress, clinging of its own accord to her body, still clung just below her breasts, making a shameless exhibition of everything from bellybutton on down. The man's copious discharge of sperm was beginning to seep from her twat, running down her rosily blushing thighs and staining her stocking tops.
The man was more fully covered, of course, but his belt was unbuckled and his unzipped fly allowed his cock and balls to dangle out in plain view.
Still panting slowly, Evelyn looked the stranger in the eye and said, "With all these books on the techniques of sex around, it's a shame somebody doesn't write about what to do after sex. That's important too, you know!"
The man smiled encouragingly. "Perhaps you might write such a book yourself," he said. "What suggestions would you make?"
"Well...." Evelyn said thoughtfully, "when you get right down to it, sex really is a sweaty, scummy business. I think a gentleman should always offer to sponge a lady off. I mean, I just think that's common good manners!"
"I'm fully agreed," the man declared enthusiastically. He took a large, snowy-white handkerchief from the breast pocket of his jacket and began to mop away the gush of mingled semen and pussy juice that had flooded over her snatch, thighs, and even up her asscrack. When she saw how carefully and delicately the man was going about it, Evelyn decided to reciprocate. First she took hold of his dong in her beautifully contoured hand and, squeezing it with all her might, wrung out every last drop of his come. The pearly droplets made a plopping noise as they splattered into the dust of the floor. Then she took a small square of lace-trimmed satin from her purse and fastidiously wiped away all the ooze that had accumulated on his long, large-veined shaft.
When the man had wiped her clean with his handkerchief, he ran his fingers lightly over her belly, into her crotch, between her legs. "I just want to see if you're all dried off," he explained. "How does it feel to you?"
Evelyn closed her eyes. She bent her knees slightly and once more spread her knees. Letting her heels rise from the floor, she jutted her hips upward and forward, almost as if she were trying to carry a tray on her stomach. "It-it feels good," she whispered. "I think you had better feel around a little more, though, to make perfectly sure."
This time the man dropped his cool completely and showed what he could do when he put both hands to work. While his left hand went rampaging through Evelyn's pussy seeking out every last fold, crevice, and cranny of hotly quivering flesh, fondling it, fingering it, probing and caressing it, his right hand arrogantly assaulted her asshole, first plucking at the fine spun strands of dark hair that surrounded it, then pressing presumptuously up into the tight, forbidden tunnel, reaming, boring, and diddling it.
He was like a master pianist making all ten fingers fly over the keys of a concert grand. As Evelyn sobbed and groaned under his expert manipulations, as she felt his hand splashing and floundering in the dark pond of her pussy, as she felt his hard, declarative finger probe ever farther into her asshole while the other fingers sweetly fondled the melting buttock-flesh, she rejoiced. She knew that this time it would be even better than the last.
Automatically her hand reached out and grasped his cock. She began to jerk it, slowly and gently at first, then with increasing vigor. Oh God, she thought, it's so wonderful to have a dick in my hand again. It will stay hard for a long time too. He won't come as fast as he did before. She was right. They stood there, violently jerking, fondling and mauling each other, sweat once again pouring in streams from their bodies, cursing and kissing alternately, Evelyn's mouth dripping saliva all down the front of her dress for fully half an hour.
She came three times in that interval. When the man came, Evelyn's maniacally jerking hand made his seed spatter over the floor, the books, her shoes, her dress.
They rested a moment, neither saying a word. Finally Evelyn let her dress fall back around her knees. As she made some attempt to repair her hairdo, she said, "I really don't see anything in this room worth borrowing. Do you?"
The man smiled as he zipped up his fly. "I do," he replied, "but I doubt very much I'd be permitted to check it out for two weeks!" He tipped his hat and left.
As soon as her nerves had calmed somewhat, Evelyn left too. She drove directly to Dr. Clyne's office. Luckily she had only a few minutes to wait before the nurse ushered her into his examination room.
"Dr. Clyne," she began without preamble of any kind, "something dreadful is happening to me. Something I don't understand. I-I'm afraid I'm turning into a sex maniac. If I go on like this, I'll completely disgrace my husband's name, myself, and my son!"
The physician leaned back in his chair and eyed her keenly. "Tell me about it," he said.
Evelyn played with her beads nervously as she said, "Ever since Dean died, I've been horny as a bitch in heat-if I may express myself plainly. I've been able to think of nothing but flopping down on my back and having myself fucked by a strong, powerful penis. That's when I'm not dreaming of taking it in the mouth or up the behind! Today-just a few minutes ago-I had sex with a perfect stranger in a public building. I won't go into details, but it was a real orgy and, I enjoyed it. The worst thing is, I don't believe I could resist the temptation if it were offered again! Doctor, what's wrong with me? What can I do?"
Dr. Clyne stood up and went to the window. "Tell me all about your sex life from your adolescence right up to the present," he said.
Evelyn first described her sexual experiences during marriage. She recounted how from the honeymoon on she and Dean had loved to engage in every variety of erotic play, with no holds barred. Blushing, she related some of the bizarre, off-beat activities they had loved best. When she had fully described her marital life, the doctor asked, "Did you and Mr. Joslin ever swap around?"
Evelyn frowned. "No," she stated, "that's something we never believed in. We were very much in love and felt we had enough variety just within the marriage. No, we never swapped."
"How about pre-marital experience?"
Evelyn cleared her throat and said, "No, I was a virgin when I married-"
"How old were you when you married?" the physician inquired.
"I was only seventeen. I-I think that one of the reasons I married so early was that I was so strongly sexed and was afraid of what might happen if I remained single. My parents were very old fashioned and the shock of an abortion or an illegitimate baby might have killed them.
So when Dean came along and I realized that I loved him, I sort of hurried him into marriage. But neither of us ever regretted it."
"I see. You tell me you were a virgin when you married. Didn't you allow the boys you dated any liberties at all?"
Evelyn couldn't help coloring as she answered, "Yes. Sometimes I wonder how I ever escaped being raped when I think of what a cock teaser I was! I was constantly exposing myself. Even at that time when no respectable girl went out on the street without panties, bra, and a girdle, I was always naked underneath my dress. Any boy who sat across from me on a bus got a quick capsule summary of what little girls are made of!"
"How old were you when you started doing this?"
"Right from the time of my first period. I mean, I was really terrible. I'd be in some public place where people didn't know me-I'd pretend to drop coffee or fruit juice on my skirt. Then, very innocently of course, I'd lift it up and examine it in such a way as to give any boys standing nearby a complete round the world tour of my pussy and my ass! I was nearly always doing things like that."
"I see. Let's go back to your married life again." Dr. Clyne now began to question her in detail about a great many aspects of sexual life in the Joslin household-how frequently the act was performed, which of the couples usually initiated sex, and so on. This took over an hour.
At the end of that time, looking very grave, Dr. Clyne looked Evelyn directly in the eye and said, "Mrs. Joslin, you are one of the few-the very, very, few-genuine nymphomaniacs I have ever been called on to treat."
"Me? Me! A nymphomaniac?"
Dr. Clyne stopped her with a restraining gesture. "It is a word that is used much too freely," he said solemnly. "Most people use the term 'nymphomaniac' to designate a woman who is simply oversexed or is not easily satisfied. A real nymphomaniac is the woman who simply cannot do without sex. She must have it several times a day or she suffers a nervous physical reaction as an alcoholic or drug addict does. A nymphomaniac is aggressive about sex-if it does not come to her, she will go to any lengths to obtain it. I had a woman in here only last week who represented an extreme example. She would have sex three times a day with her husband-in the morning before he went to work, in the evening as soon as he came home, and then when they went to bed that night. In addition, she laid the postman every day-and heaven help any door to door salesman who called at her home! Finally one day her husband came home unexpectedly and found her nursing her baby at her breast at the same time some insurance salesman was sticking it into her from behind. That was the last straw for the husband. He threw her out; she came to me in tears, asking if I could treat her."
Evelyn was very much shaken. "Heavens!" she said. "I always knew I enjoyed sex more than most women but I thought it was a healthy enjoyment!"
Dr. Clyne shook his head. "It is not healthy," he declared. "In your case, it is more in the nature of a craving."
"But-but tell me, doctor, why didn't I realize the kind of person I am long ago? I mean, in the years past I would never have considered hauling up my skirts and submitting to be plowed by the first stranger that came along-which is what happened today! Why do I suddenly feel this temptation to behave like a waterfront whore?"
"That's easy," the physician replied, smiling wanly. "Up till now, you always had an extremely willing partner. According to what you tell me, Mr. Joslin always went along very enthusiastically with your sexual urges and even led the way at times. If he had not been quite so willing, I can promise you that the 'waterfront whore' side of your personality-as you term it-would have become evident much sooner."
Evelyn's face became a tragic mask. "But doctor!" she cried, "I can't go on like this. I mean, even if I didn't care for my own reputation, I still owe it to my son not to become a-a sex addict! Isn't there something you can do for me? Is there a pill I can take for this?"
The doctor looked unhappy. "Oh sure, there are things," he admitted. "But we're not sure of the side effects. They could be dangerous. Frankly, Mrs. Joslin, if you have the time and the money, I would strongly advise you to see a physician who specializes in this sort of thing and combines medicine with psychiatric treatment."
"Do you know such a man? I'd go to him in a minute!"
"The best man in this field is Dr. Blaine Rogers," Dr. Clyne said. "But I must warn you, the treatment takes several months at least. He is in New York-you would have to go there and remain there for as long as the treatment requires."
"I'll do it!" Evelyn declared, her eyes flashing. "Will you furnish an introduction and find out how soon he can begin to see me, Doctor?"
Dr. Clyne was happy to do so. He phoned Evelyn late that afternoon and told her that he had arranged her first appointment with Dr. Rogers in New York. "He can see you day after tomorrow," Dr. Clyne reported. "Ordinarily, you'd have to wait weeks, but in view of the urgency of the case, I was able to persuade him to see you sooner. Can you make arrangements by that time?"
It would mean a mad flurry of activity, but Evelyn was determined she would. She immediately called her son to her and said, "Ken, I'm sending you to live with Uncle Al and Aunt Judy for a while. They've always said how much they'd love to have you come for an extended stay, and I know you'll have the companionship of their youngsters. I-I have to go to New York for medical treatment. You mustn't be alarmed, it's nothing too serious, but I will have to stay there for a number of months. Don't fret; just think of yourself as the man of the family-you'll be responsible for my property and correspondence and things like that while I'm away."
After she had secured an airline reservation to New York, she made arrangements to stay in a fine old hotel in Manhattan's east thirties where she and her husband had put up a number of times in years past.
The very next afternoon she was winging her way to the great metropolis. She was filled with excitement. She was eager to begin her treatment, yes, but she also appreciated the chance for a vacation far away from the familiar things that would constantly remind her of Dean and his tragic end. She brought along an extensive wardrobe that was conspicuously lacking in one item-a black dress!
CHAPTER THREE
FATHER FUCKS BEST
Evelyn checked into her hotel just before five. She was pleased to see that it had lost none of its old fashioned charm. Although it had been constructed around the turn of the century, it was very well kept up and had many interesting features that have long since disappeared from modern structures.
After she had settled into her room and taken a shower, Evelyn lay down on the bed nude. She thought she might take a short nap. Lying there, she congratulated herself on her decision to come to New York. The treatment would take a long time and heavens only knew what disgrace she might have pulled down on her head if she had chosen to be cured in her home town! At least here in the giant city no one would know or care no matter how ridiculously she behaved.
She felt deliciously tired but an insistent buzz of conversation from the next room made it impossible for her to doze off. She recalled now that this was one old fashioned feature of the hotel that she did not like-the connecting door between all the rooms. They certainly passed the sound along! Raising her head from the pillow to stare resentfully at the door, she noticed that someone had thrust a little wad of paper in the keyhole.
She had to smile. Obviously the person who had wadded up the keyhole had done so to prevent being observed from the next room. This really was an old fashioned place! Imagine a hotel with antique style keyholes that you could actually peep through!
But then, her breathing quickening, Evelyn began to think: Suppose-just suppose-I were to do the peeping! The voices coming from the adjacent room were those of a man and a woman. What were they doing in there? Could it be something sexual? Just the thought made Evelyn's body go hot and tingly all over. She tried to fight the impulse but it was just too much-she had to look. Scrambling to her feet, she walked slowly to the door in her bare feet, cautiously removed the tiny wad of paper and completely naked kneeled down and put her eye to the keyhole.
Her first reaction was one of disappointment. It was obviously a father and daughter. A young woman of about fifteen years of age was standing before the mirror combing her long, blonde hair. She was dressed in her slip. The man, who appeared to be about forty, was sitting on the edge of the bed. He had his shoes off but was otherwise fully clothed. Evelyn heard the girl say, "How long will mother be at the hairdresser's, father?"
"Oh, about an hour," the man replied in a flat monotone. "She wanted you to go with her but when you hadn't gotten back by five she decided to go on without you."
"That's all right," the girl stated. "Sitting around that dopey salon with a bunch of women is something I can do without." She turned and flashed a brilliant smile at her father. "I'd much rather stay here and talk to you, Daddy!"
The man smiled in return. "It's nice to hear you say that, Jean," he murmured. "I guess this is really the first chance we've had to talk in private since we sent you away to that finishing school last year." His eyes glanced appreciatively up and down the girl's slim, lissome form. "You certainly have grown up, young lady! And you've filled out considerably too-I notice a few bumps and bulges beneath that slip that certainly weren't noticeable when we sent you away last fall!" His eyes twinkled as he said this.
The girl darted him an adoring look. "Thanks for noticing, Daddy," she said. "Most fathers wouldn't notice-they like to think their daughters will remain children all their lives! Oh dear, it certainly is hot in this room. Why couldn't we stay at one of those modern, air conditioned hotels?"
"You're right, Jean," the man acknowledged, "it is warm in here. I'm actually perspiring."
"I don't know about you, but I'm going to take off this stupid slip," Jean declared. "Feel free to take off your shirt, Dad. Or even your pants. No reason why we should be uncomfortable and stuffy." With that, she whipped off her pretty green nylon slip and stood before the mirror clad only in her bra, panties, and a pair of self supporting, crotch high nylons. Evelyn could not help gasping at the sight. The girl was beautiful! With her tall, slim figure, her hair that made a perfect cascade of glisteny blondeness as it hung almost to her waist and with her perfectly formed, long thighed legginess, she was an ideal model of fresh, lovely femininity.
The man's startled look as he surveyed his daughter's half-naked lovliness was very apparent to Evelyn. She wondered what thoughts were racing through his mind as his eyes roved over the juicily full globes of her rose petal pink ass that hung out almost entirely exposed to view since the skimpy, bikini type panties had crept far up between her buttocks. As; the girl turned, Evelyn could see that her breasts, though small, were lusciously pear shaped. The gauzy thin brassiere revealed the nipples and flaring halos around them with breathtaking clarity. Similarly, her thatch of golden pussy hair shone radiantly through the negligible covering of her panties.
The father simply sat on the bed and regarded the girl somewhat covertly for a minute. Then very slowly he removed his shirt and hung it on a chair. Even more slowly still he removed his trousers and placed them neatly on the seat of the chair. He sat down again, dressed only in his underwear and socks.
The girl paraded back and forth from the closet to the bathroom several times, her lovely titties bouncing three ways at once. Finally she asked, "How long did you say it would be before mother came back, Daddy?" The man looked at his watch. "I guess it will be about fifty minutes now," he said. "Of course, it all depends on how quickly Robert takes care of her. It might be a few minutes more. It might be a few minutes less." He seemed to be avoiding her eyes as he said this.
There was silence for another minute or two. Then the father said, "You know, it's hotter than I thought in here. I think I'm just going to get down to my bare skin. This is the last time I take a room in a non air conditioned hotel!"
He removed his underwear much more quickly than he had his shirt and pants. There was almost a frenzy about his haste, Evelyn thought! The girl watched him without speaking. Then she gulped, turned her back on him, walked to the closet at the far end of the room, stripped off her bra and panties and flung them inside. She turned very, very slowly and walked over to the bed at a snail's pace. Clad only in her long nylon hose she looked down to where her father was sitting and said shyly, "Well, Daddy, if there was anything you wanted to say to me in private, I guess that means we have less than an hour to talk about it."
Staring straight up into her eyes her father said, "Yes, I guess that's true. We'd-we'd have to talk pretty fast."
"Or-" the girl went on, "-if there was anything we wanted to do that was none of mom's business we'd have to start pretty fast too."
Turning her back on him she walked over to the dressing table, leaned her lovely bare ass against it and stood, her shoulders thrown back, her pretty cherry tipped titties thrust forward. A ray of late afternoon sunlight pouring through the curtains into the room made her divine clump of pussyhair glean like a golden fire between her soft white thighs.
The man swung his legs to the floor and walked slowly to where his daughter stood against the dressing table. His great cock was fully, unmistakably erect; it throbbed with every beat of his pulse.
The girl stared down at it, half surprised, a tiny smile on her face. "Why you've got a hard-on, Daddy!" she cried. "Does-does that mean,...."
The man's level gaze met hers. "Yes," he said, breathing hard and deep, "yes, that's what it means."
"Oh Dad!" the girl said softly, "please promise me one thing-that you won't think of me as some kind of slut! I-I'm still a virgin, Dad, not because I want to be but because I'm just so shy. You don't know how I've suffered at school-all the girls fuck! Even those younger than me. They all have steady boyfriends that fuck them blind. I-I'm not really cherry because one day I went to a doctor who's friendly with one of my classmates and I paid him to put some kind of instrument up my pussy and cut through my cherry. I did it because I was dating a boy and I wanted to make it easy for myself when he finally got around to propositioning me. But when he finally asked me, I said no! I was just too timid!"
The man held his daughter tenderly. Caressing her arms and shoulder blades, he said, "Now, now, Jean. We won't talk about that. Lots of young girls like yourself are shy-even the prettiest ones. One thing I've learned-there's a right time and a wrong time for a person to have their first intercourse. You know, somehow, when the right time has come. And I think for you the time is now."
"Oh Daddy, I'm so glad!" the girl cried. "You-you've done so much for me in the past. Even you don't know how much. And now you're going to do one more wonderful thing-you're going to teach me how to fuck!"
"Yes, yes," the man said in a low choked undertone.
"And you won't be like those boys that date the girls at school! The girls have told me how brutal they are, especially the first time they're with a girl! You'll be just the way you've always been with me-gentle and understanding. But gentle above all!"
"Because you're my little girl," the man breathed.
The girl held her father at arm's length for a moment while she bathed him in a radiant smile. Then she said, "And Daddy-when you do it to me-don't think of me as your daughter. Don't think about that at all. For the next half hour or so, we'll just be lovers. Try to imagine you've never seen me before. Don't look at my face. Just think of my cunt. Think of my ass. Think of my tits. If you want to, you can put a towel over my face. I wouldn't mind if it made things easier for you!"
"That-that won't be necessary, dear," the man said emotionally.
"Oh, you called me dear! Did you mean 'dear' the way you used to call me that when I was a little girl? Or did you mean 'dear' the way that lovers use the word?" The girl's eyes were wide and her breast heaved with excitement.
"I meant-I meant it the way lovers say it," her father responded, almost inaudibly.
For the first time, the girl reached out and took her father's rigid cock in her hand. "Oh, what a prick!" she sighed. "Oh Daddy, I've been so longing for someone to talk dirty to. Talk real dirty to me, Dad! Don't be ashamed-it's what I want!"
While the girl fondled her father's dick lovingly, he ran his hands up and down the incredible smoothness of her body. "We're going to have a wonderful time, Jean," he promised her. "Wait till I have my cock inside your pussy. May-may I fondle your tits, dear? May I handle your lovely ass? What a beautiful body you have, Jean-your mother's was never this beautiful, even when we were young. It's a body that was made for fucking, Jean! Oh Jean, someday when we've had a chance to get used to all this, will you take my prick in your mouth? Every time I look at your lovely soft red lips, I think how perfect they would feel wrapped around my prick!"
"Of course!" the girl squealed. "But that's for later. Right now I just want to fuck, fuck, fuck! Think of me as your fucking machine, Daddy! And let's start-mommy will be back before we know it!"
Their arms around one another's waists, the pair walked over to the bed. The young girl towered over her father by several inches at least. As they reached the bed she said teasingly, "You may be shorter than me, buddy, but you're big down there anyway!" She reached down and touched his dick again. She ran her hand up and down his straining shaft several times, making it leap and quiver.
"Hey, watch it there!" the man smilingly cautioned. "Better not do that again unless you want to see my sperm splashing all over your pretty toes!"
The girl giggled and flopped down on the bed, her splendid legs hanging over the sides. From where she crouched Evelyn could see right up the youngster's twat. This view was blotted from sight when the father stepped between her legs and began gently to ease his cock into her. Evelyn's mind, already in a delirium of erotic cravings, snapped at this point. "A cock ... I've got to have a cock," she murmured to herself. Groping blindly, her eye still pressed to the keyhole, her hand fell upon a hairbrush sticking out of her half unpacked suitcase. "Oh," she murmured as she began to ram the handle up her ardently yearning pussy, "oh God, what I'd give if it were only a real one!"
The man had begun pumping away now-long, easy thrusts. Evelyn could see nothing of the girl but her legs. She had an excellent view of the father's ass and balls however and she noticed how his buttocks clenched and tightened with every stroke. She could hear the man asking, "Are you all right now? I'm not hurting you am I, dear? Tell me if everything is all right!"
And the girl replied in a low, moaning voice, "Oh, yes, Daddy. Oh! Oh Daddy, if I'd only realized it was this much pleasure I'd have let you fuck me when I came home for Christmas vacation. So this is what it's like. Wait till I get back to school this fall-I'm going to make the other girls so jealous! I won't tell them you were the one to jab it into me first but I'll tell them everything else. Yes Daddy, you can do it harder now! Really ram your dick into me. I want it! My pussy wants it! Oh God, Daddy, could you suck my nipples for a while-yes, yes, that's the way!"
Evelyn could see the man's balls squirm and jiggle as he pumped away like a demon for about half a minute. Then she heard the girl say, "Now take it a little easier, Dad. I don't want you to come just yet. Oh Daddy, why didn't we do this before? There's nothing shameful about it! Why should it be such a disgrace for a father to screw his own daughter? If both want it, it seems like the most natural thing in the world. Mm! Daddy, kiss me ... kiss me hard. Let me suck your tongue into my mouth. Oh Jesus, Dad, that feels good-your tongue is so long and passionate it's almost like having your dick in my mouth.
"You want to know something, Daddy? I don't think I'm the only girl in school that does this with her father. That Sally Turner-I walked in on her one Sunday afternoon when her father was visiting her and he was holding her close and he had his hands up under her dress, feeling up her ass. They weren't a bit bashful about it, either! Her face was all flushed and the both of them were sweating. I think he had been fucking her standing up, that's what was happening!"
Suddenly, Evelyn saw the girl wrap her legs around her father's midriff. "Daddy, Daddy," she moaned, "I think I'm going to come! Hold me tight, hold me tight, Daddy! Now give it to me-stuff your prick into me as far as you can get it. Oh my God...."
At that moment Evelyn felt herself creaming. Kneeling there on the floor, her head bobbing like a mechanical toy, she felt the orgasm flood through her crotch, her breasts, her entire body like molten steel. It's a cock, she told herself, it's a hot, loving cock....But when she looked down at what she held in her hands she sighed bitterly. "Only the handle of a hairbrush," she said, "only a piece of wood. Something has to be done about this."
When she next applied her eye to the keyhole, both bodies on the bed were still. A moment later the man raised himself, slowly, reluctantly. "Did you-did you enjoy it, dearest?" he asked the blonde youngster who still sprawled atop the counterpane, her legs spread lasciviously. "Was it-was it like what you expected?"
"Mm!" The girl sat up slowly and Evelyn could see she was smiling. "It was better than I ever expected, Daddy, much better!" She took his tool in her soft white hand and held it lovingly to her cheek. "Oh Daddy, we're going to have such wonderful fun all summer! I can't wait till we get back home and have a whole house to play around in! When mommy's down in the basement, you and I can fuck in the bedroom upstairs. When she's upstairs we can fuck in the basement-or the kitchen-or the garage!"
Her father stroked her breasts tenderly. "That was the best lay I've had in my entire life," he sighed. "What a tight little pussy you have, my dear. It's just as I said before, Jean, you were made for fucking!"
"Thanks, Daddy," the girl said, blushing. "And now that we've bailed one another, we'll do other things, won't we? Tomorrow, when mother goes out shopping will you put your dick in my mouth? Can I suck you off? I'd do it now, except I'm afraid she'll be back soon. What else is there we can do besides fucking and sucking, Daddy? Tell me-I want to know all about these things!"
The man's limp rod began to go hard again as he said, "Someday, child, when we're both in just the right mood, let me fuck you up the ass. It's just possible you may prefer it to the regular way."
"Oh!" the girl squealed excitedly, "that sounds just outasight! Did-did you ever do that to mommy?"
The man shook his head sadly. "Your mother doesn't like it that way, Jean. But your Aunt Martha does! You didn't know that your Aunt Martha and I have been giving one another lessons in love, did you, Jean?"
"Oh no!" the girl cried excitedly. "Aunt Martha! And she takes it up the behind from you? Well, with that big ass of hers, I'm not surprised. Do you like making love that way, Daddy?"
"Child, as far as I'm concerned, it's the only way. But you and I mustn't rush things. Your sweet little hole is probably too tight and tender yet. But Aunt Martha has been reamed so often back there, I think you could drive a Mack truck up her asshole and she'd never notice the difference!" They laughed a moment. Then he said, "Seriously, Jean, I think we'd better get dressed. Your mother must have left the hairdresser by now."
"All right," the girl said grudgingly. "But I can't wait till tomorrow."
The man dressed with nervous haste. He was completely clothed in little over a minute. The girl slowly donned her panties, then her bra. She went back to the mirror. Just as she commenced to brush her hair again, the door opened and a matron of about thirty-five entered without knocking.
The girl started noticeably; then regaining her composure, she smiled and said, "Hi, Mom! What's the idea of running off to the hairdresser without me?"
"Well, I waited as long as I could but finally I just had to go off without you." A look of slight exasperation flitted across her face. "Oh Jean!" she protested, "You shouldn't run around in your underwear in front of your father like that. It isn't nice!"
"What's wrong with it?" the girl asked blankly.
The mother shook her head as she bustled about, straightening objects on the dressing table, picking up articles of clothing that had been left out on the chairs and bed. "There's nothing wrong with it," she said, "it just isn't done!"
The girl went to where she had dropped her slip. As she passed her father, Evelyn saw a smile of knowing sensuality pass between them ... a secret look that totally excluded the mother.
Evelyn had seen enough. Her knees were sore where they had rested on the floor for so long. As she lay down for another attempt at a nap, she thought, that child is wrong in what she did, seducing her father like that. But who am I to criticize? If my own son were here right now, I don't know if I could resist the temptation. I just don't know....
CHAPTER FOUR
BAR ROOM BLUES
Evelyn rested in her room for a long time. It had been a very fatiguing day. At nine o'clock however, she abruptly realized she had not had a thing to eat since breakfast that morning. She had passed up the meal aboard the airplane because her stomach was tied up in knots with excitement.
"I'm ravenous," she suddenly decided. "I'm going out to find myself someplace special, someplace with a lot of atmosphere! I owe it to myself, my first evening in New York!" She went to the closet and spent a good deal of time deliberating over the dress she would wear for the occasion. She finally settled on a simple frock of sheer white jersey that clung like a glove. Slipping it over her nude body, she admired herself in the mirror.
Yes, yes, she thought, this is what I need-no more black for me. She liked very much the way it emphasized and hinted at her treasures without precisely revealing them. If she stood against even a dim light the outline of her voluptuously contoured form stood out with amazing clarity. Viewed in ordinary light however, the rosy aureoles of her nipples shone subtly through the fabric like the sun trying to burn its way through the mist on an overcast day. The dark triangle of her pussyhair was also apparent but only if one stared very hard. It was very tight on her body, so tight even the minute indentation of her belly button was clearly evident. She wore no hose, only a pair of high heeled gold slippers.
You look very, very nice, Evelyn, she told herself, smiling into the mirror. And you had better watch out where you show yourself like this or some oversexed male may just fuck you right through two hundred dollars worth of expensive jersey! She had to blush at the thought. Gracious! She would be glad when Dr. Rogers started his treatment. The sooner he managed to calm her down, the better.
After walking at random for about fifteen minutes, she found a very fine, discreetly lighted French restaurant where the food was excellent and the wines superb, though not expensive. It was a tiny, bistro like place. Evelyn found the atmosphere so congenial that she lingered a long time over her coffee and cigarette. Eventually though, sensing the desire of the management to close for the night, she paid her check and went out.
It was by now well past eleven. Her fatigue had disappeared completely. She was beginning to feel caught up in the rhythm of the city, its inexhaustible excitement, that unique feel of crowds on the move no matter how late the hour. I can't go back to the hotel just yet, she resolved, I'll walk a little longer. Heavens, after the depression of Dean's death and the funeral and everything connected with it, it's such heaven to be in the midst of so much vibrant life!
Several blocks from the hotel she noticed an intriguing bar. Through the large expanse of glass frontage she saw that it was filled almost entirely with young people, girls as well as men, and that it seemed like a very lively place. I wonder if this could be one of those east side pickup bars I've read about so often? she wondered. Most of the patrons seemed younger than herself, in their early twenties for the most part, but why should she let that stop her from stopping in and having just one drink? She had to begin finding out about places like this if she were going to remain in New York for several months. Maybe she'd like it, maybe she wouldn't. But she couldn't just isolate herself in her room.
She found a seat at the bar right near the door and ordered a vodka and tonic. Staring about her curiously she decided that most of the crowd was too young for her. There were a couple of fellows, particularly a tall, brown haired chap informally dressed in slacks and sweater without a tie who might have appealed to her. But the rest seemed like babies.
She decided to enjoy herself however, now that she was there. But she had not gotten through more than half of her drink when she realized she was being molested. The fellow on the stool next to her was having the feel of his life at the expense of her thigh! She looked at him coldly. He was not a pleasant sight. In his early twenties, with a gross, arrogant face, he looked like the type who automatically assumes that a huge cock is an adequate substitute for charm, manners, and delicacy.
She pushed his hand away and took another sip of her drink. He was not so easily discouraged. "Hey, sweetheart," he said softly, "what's the matter? I'm not your type, is that it?"
"If you were the last man in this bar you wouldn't be my type," she informed him sincerely. "If you were the only man in the city of New York, you wouldn't be my type. Do you get my message?"
"Aw, come on," he wheedled in a whiskey hoarse voice, "you chicks all come in here for the same thing. I know it-all the guys know it. You're in here for a piece of ass. You're here to find yourself a good fuck. It ain't a question of whether you'll find it. It's just a question of when!"
"And with whom," she informed him in tones that seemed to have swept in from the Arctic pole. She made to turn aside but at that moment the young man intruded a brutally insolent hand into the low cut neckline of her dress and grabbed her tit!
"You bitches make me sick!" he snarled. "You come in here with your cunts hanging out and a couple of red lights hanging from your tits and when a fellow takes a little interest you act like the Virgin Mary all of a sudden! You don't fool me! You want me to buy you half a dozen drinks and get so sozzled I can't get it up before you'll agree to come up to my pad!"
By now Evelyn was becoming genuinely alarmed. She hadn't dreamed anything like this could happen in a public place! She cast a pleading glance at the bartender but he was at the far end of the bar and in the general commotion was not apt to notice the disturbance.
As the young man squeezed and fondled her nipple and began to rub his thigh against hers, she exclaimed, "Please let me alone! Can't somebody make him stop? Please!" By now she was struggling with him.
A few men noticed but they only laughed uneasily or turned quickly away. "Come on," the young man said, "why do we have to go through all this? If you don't want to go up to my pad, how about my car? It's parked right around the comer. We can fuck on the back seat without any-"
At that moment he lurched sidewise on the bar, blood spurting from his mouth as the tall, brown haired young fellow she had noticed before drove a smashing hard right to the molester's jaw! In falling however, he grabbed wildly at Evelyn's dress, ripping it down the front and around the middle. Evelyn's breasts spilled out the front and dangled their enticing nakedness for all to
"You bastard!" the brown haired man exclaimed, standing over the molester where he writhed feebly on the floor, "I'll teach you not to annoy women!"
"Hey! Hey! What's going on here?" the bartender cried, making his way down the bar. "Listen, if you guys wanna fight, take it outside!"
"Oh goodness, what am I going to do?" Evelyn pleaded, trying vainly to conceal her rich bosomy fullness with her hands, "he-he ripped my dress. I-"
By now the intrusive young man was recovering slowly. "You crummy fucking bitch," he muttered painfully, "I'll show you what it means to tangle with me...." He attempted to rise from the floor, then fell back.
The other man put his arm around Evelyn's shoulder. "I suggest we get out of here," he said. "It'll save both of us a lot of trouble." He threw several dollar bills on the bar and guided Evelyn to the door. She went very willingly but as they were about to step outside she moaned, "I-I can't go outside like this. I'm practically naked from the waist up!"
"I'll fix that," her rescuer promised smilingly. Stripping off his sweater he helped her guide it with difficulty over her heaving tits. As he did so his hand accidentally brushed one lovely knob. Her breasts instantly went hard and her nipples felt like two red hot poker tips that only a man's cooling tongue could soothe! She forced herself to remain calm, turning her head aside so the stranger could not see how her face flared crimson.
When they were on the sidewalk the man asked, "Can I get you a cab?"
"Oh no, that's all right," Evelyn replied. "I only live a few blocks from here. If you'll see me back to my hotel I'll be very grateful. Thank you very much for helping me when you did-that was a dreadful experience!" She appraised him from the comer of her eye. He really was cute! She wondered how old he was-a year or two younger than herself, she suspected.
He grimaced. "I won't go in there any more," he said. "I didn't really intend to go there tonight. But I wanted a cool drink and I was passing by and ... well, you know how it is. It used to be a nice place but a bad crowd hangs out there now."
Evelyn looked down at herself and remarked humorously, "I really hung out there tonight! Everything from the waist up hung out!" He laughed. "Will you tell me your name?" she asked. "I feel I should know who was responsible for getting me out of a very sticky situation."
"I'm Miles Edwards," he replied. "And you?" She told him. It was only a minute before they arrived at the hotel. As they reached the lobby she stopped, faced him and began to say, "Well, thanks again for helping me-" Then she realized they couldn't say goodbye there! She was wearing his sweater and she certainly couldn't peel it off right there in front of everyone!
"Well," she exclaimed, "looks like I'll have to invite you up to my room, Miles. I'm sure you'd like me to return your sweater."
"That's really not necessary," he said. "I could pick it up tomorrow."
"Why do that?" she asked, moving toward the elevator. "Come on. I trust you. You don't look like a rapist." She thought a moment, then said smiling, "Or-maybe I shouldn't be so sure of myself. Maybe this is a little plan you and the other fellow have worked out. He insults girls in bars, you hit him and get to take the young lady back to her apartment where you rape her. The next night you alternate roles-he knocks you down and then he takes the girl home!"
It was charming to see Miles' countenance turn rosy at the mere suggestion of such a thing. She patted his arm lightly. "Never mind," Evelyn said, "I was only kidding."
Once inside the room, Evelyn made directly for the bathroom where she ripped off her ruined dress. She stood nervously biting her lip, her mind a perfect riot of conflicting impulses and desires. I'm stark naked, she told herself. And a young, good looking male is here in my room. I could walk out this door right now as I am, wiggle my hips and say, "Would you like to fuck me? Look at me, Miles. I'm a desirable voluptuous woman. All you'd have to do is drop your pants and ball me where I stand. You could stay all night, Miles. You don't know me and I don't know you, so what's the harm? We could fuck and suck and stick our fingers into each other's slits and crevices from now until dawn. Then you could go off and we'd never have to see one another again!"
Yes, that's just the trouble she thought. We'd never see one another again. Men are all alike that way. Make it too easy for them and you lose them fast.
Her face went rigid. No, she decided. I'm not going to make it easy for him. I would like to see him again.
She slipped a terrycloth robe over her body and went out into the bedroom. "Here's your sweater!" she called out, flinging it to him. "It's got a couple of bulges that weren't there before but they'll soon disappear." He seemed uncertain whether to go or attempt to stay-she liked that. "Look," she suggested, "why don't you sit down and talk with me for a few minutes? I've got a bottle of dry sherry in my suitcase-let me offer you some. And Miles-you don't have to put on any act with me. I've been married ... I'm a widow ... and I'm not going to behave like a seventeen year old who gets all giggly and stammering simply because she's entertaining a man in her room and has nothing beneath her robe but her bare skin! All right?"
Miles plopped himself down in an easy chair. "All right," he said, obviously very pleased with the tone of her remarks. "And I'll take you up on that offer of some sherry."
Evelyn opened the bottle herself and poured healthy portions into a couple of the hotel's water glasses. "Cheers," she said, clinking glasses with him. She sat down on the bed on the far side away from him. "Tell me something about yourself, Miles," she urged. "From the way you handled yourself tonight, I'd say you were an athlete. Maybe even an ex-boxer. But no-your face is too sound and whole for that. You've never been in the ring. But you are in excellent shape! What do you do for a living?"
He smiled a trifle sheepishly. "You'll never guess," he said. "I work in a women's beauty salon. What do you think of that?"
Evelyn laughed so hard she spilled some sherry down the front of her robe. "That's right out of left field!" she exclaimed. "A beauty salon! Usually the males who take on that career are homosexuals. Are you queer, Miles?"
Now it was his turn to laugh. "Thank you for being so direct. No, I'm not queer. I'm as straight as they come."
Evelyn realized that in some far off comer of her mind she was hoping that he'd admit he was homosexual. It would make things so much easier. They could simply enjoy a few minute's conversation over a drink and then he could go. There wouldn't be this temptation. This torment. How handsome and virile he looked, sitting there at ease! His skin was golden ... he must go to the beach every weekend, she was sure. You don't get that honey tone under a sunlamp. His nipples glowed darkly beneath the immaculate white of his shirt....
He was saying something about the place where he worked. Evelyn wasn't listening. She scissored her legs apart slightly and surreptitiously intruded her hand through the front of her robe. Oh Jesus, this was torture! Why do people have to play games with one another?
She knew he couldn't see what she was doing sitting half turned away from him on the far edge of the bed. She made her hand fuck her pussy. Oh yes, she was all sloppy and juice down there already. Her subconscious mind had prepared her twat for the cock it would never receive that night. What irony ... but if she couldn't have the real thing, she'd have the next best. Her own loving, gentle, understanding hand......" so while I don't particularly like everything about the work, I am learning things," he was saying. "It's an unusual salon with unusual opportunities."
Evelyn forced her mind to focus on his words. "Unusual?" she asked politely. "How? And what do you mean by 'unusual opportunities?'"
But another part of her brain was simultaneously saying: I wonder what would have happened if it had been you that accosted me in that bar tonight, Miles, instead of the other fellow? Oh, I can just imagine! You'd have placed your hand on my thigh and I'd have just smiled a brilliant smile as though nothing unusual had happened. Then, very slowly in a gentlemanly way, you'd slide your hand around to the soft inside portion of my thigh. Then upward, fingering my pussylips for a time, diddling my clitoris, looking me straight in the eye to see how I was taking it. I'd have taken it very well, Miles, I wouldn't have complained. You could have finger-fucked me right there in the bar, you could have made me come and I'd act as unconcerned as if we were talking about the weather! You could have stuck your whole hand up inside my snatch, Miles, you could have made one giant dick of your hand and I'd have let you do as you pleased!
Now Miles was saying " ... the thing is, it's not just a beauty salon. This woman I work for, this Miss Steele, has a lot of valuable ideas about physical fitness that she works into her programs...."
Her hand was working away so madly between her legs, Evelyn was afraid Miles would hear the sucking slurpy sound that was so apparent to herself. Oh yes, my sweet brown haired lover, she wanted to say, I'd have been perfectly willing to sit right on the edge of that bar stool so that after you had played with my pussy to your heart's content you could have run your finger a little further into my crotch, touching my asshole, letting your finger rove and play in my sweaty asscrack and finally when you felt like it, you could have slowly oozed your finger up my asshole ... up ... up ... up ... and I would have simply smiled......" Miss Steele also has a unique system of facial exercises that works wonders," Miles continued. "Honestly, she can erase age lines and prevent new ones from forming. And even though I don't particularly care for my employer's personality...."
The far comer of Evelyn's mind continued to churn away. It was saying, And then when we'd gone as far as we could in there, Miles, we could have gone outside to the parking lot next door. You could have made me get down on my hands and knees between the cars, down in the grease and dirt of the pavement. I know what you'd have done next, Miles-you'd have gently raised my skirt over my hips and taken a long admiring look at my ass. I'd have thrust it up as high as I could, Miles, and even opened my asshole in case you wanted to play with it some more before we got down to business....
"... I've always been interested in problems of physical fitness and how it relates to keeping a youthful appearance," Miles was saying, his eyes intent on Evelyn to guage her interest, "and my ambition is to open my own salon in the not too distant future. I would go far beyond anything that Miss Steele has. It would enable me to use my pre-medical training...."
And finally, Miles, you'd get down behind me and leaning your full weight on my back, you'd fuck the shit out of me, dog fashion. It would be good, my darling, just the way it ought to be! Who needs soft lights, perfumed budoirs, dreamy music? No, a good squirming fuck with the sweat pouring off your body there in the dirt of the city parking lot-that's how it should be!
Evelyn brought herself up short. She had been pawing away at her pussylips with such energy that she was on the point of coming. That wouldn't do at all. Miles would be sure to notice the jerking, spasmodic contractions of her hips and legs. No-let her passion die down. Let it subside. There now. Now she felt better.
Closing her legs and sitting up straight she said, "Well, Miles, that's very interesting. I'd never have guessed you're a beauty culturist in a million years. I hope you get your own salon very soon. I may patronize you, who knows?"
He stood up. Extending his hand, he said, "No, my treatments are designed only for the woman over thirty. Thanks for the sherry, Evelyn." Snatching up his sweater he said, "I'd better head home. I've lots to do tomorrow and I'm sure you do too."
She stood up. "Well, all right," she said a little forlornly. She really hadn't expected him to depart quite so soon! "I-I appreciate what you did for me."
He made for the door. "I'm sorry it had to happen," he remarked. "I hope you don't meet up with any other eager beavers like that during your stay in New York. Goodbye." They shook hands once more and he went out.
Evelyn watched silently for a moment as he walked down the hall toward the elevator. Then she went inside and closed the door. Had she done the right thing? Would he try to see her again? That was a sweet thing he had said about 'women over thirty.' But he really hadn't shown too much interest.
Oh damn! Maybe she would have done better to be satisfied with a one night stand-to claim his cock while it was still available for the claiming! At least she would have had that-he certainly wouldn't have resisted her if she'd thrust her hand inside Ids pants while she parted her robe to display to him the full magnificence of her treasures.
She slumped onto the bed and stared in misery at the floor. Shit! Shit! It was awful to be a woman! They still judged you by that old double standard-you could never get away from it. They still expected a woman to be nothing but sugar and spice. And if you ever hinted that a little pussy juice was mixed in there too, they were shocked out of their minds.
She was so angry and dispirited that she didn't even finish playing with herself. To hell with the orgasm-she didn't want it now!
As Miles walked through the lobby on his way out of the hotel he too felt very much let down. Had he done the right thing? he wondered. He would have liked very much to see Evelyn again but how could he entertain her? It took no more than a glimpse of the girl to tell that she was very much used to the finer things. Everything about her-her dress, her luggage, the toilet articles on her dressing table-everything spoke of money! Would she really be interested in hearing that he was so heavily commited to purchases of machines, equipment, and furnishings for his new salon that he could only afford to buy her an occasional drink at a neighborhood bar?
Maybe he should have asked her if he might phone sometime. Well ... he'd sleep on it and see how he felt tomorrow.
CHAPTER FIVE
JAIL BAIT BALL
As Miles left the hotel and began to walk along the street, now largely deserted, a small figure detached itself from the shadows and began to pursue him. Sometimes it ventured boldly to within a few yards and seemed about to engage his attention. Then it would fall back uncertainly.
At last the small person seemed to gather up courage and making a determined dash for Miles, plucked at his sleeve and cried out, "Hi, Miles!"
The young man stopped dead in his tracks and looked around. A very young girl clad in blue denim bell bottoms and a scruffy blue tee-shirt stood staring nervously up at him. "Oh no!" Miles breathed, leaning wearily against a lamp post. "Oh no! Gail, what are you doing here? Did you follow me? Tell me-did you follow me?"
She nodded. With a shy uncertain smile she said, "Yes. I followed you from the bar. I-I've been waiting outside the hotel for you to come out."
Miles shook his head despairingly. "You shouldn't have done that," he said. "I've told you before that any kind of relationship is out of the question."
"Why?" she cried. "Why?"
"You know as well as I do," he said patiently. "Because you're under age. I'll never understand why Joey lets you hang around his bar. If an inspector ever found you in there, Joey would lose his license in two seconds flat. You are under age, aren't you?"
She looked down at the pavement and said miserably, "Yes."
"How old are you anyway?"
"I won't tell you."
"See?" Miles exclaimed. "Honestly, I just can't afford to get involved with you, Gail. It's not that your unattractive or undesirable or anything like that. But I'm a professional man and I expect to open my own business soon and well-I just feel that life is complicated enough without my getting tangled up with a minor."
She stared at him bewildered. "Who'd ever know?" she asked shrilly. "I'm sure as hell not going to tell anybody! And as for my parents, they're three thousand miles away. They wouldn't care shit anyway!"
Miles shook his head determinedly. "No ... no...." he maintained. He placed an affectionate hand on her shoulder. "I've enjoyed talking to you in Joey's place, but that's as far as it can go."
But the youngster was not about to give up all that easily. "Huh!" she exclaimed in offended tones, "you didn't say that when I was feeling your dick in the bar. And you certainly had a good time handling my ass and squeezing my boobs. You didn't complain about me being too young then!"
Miles remained patient. "I didn't realize at the time," he said. "You were all dressed up and looked very sophisticated. It wasn't until we got outside and I had a good look at you that it began to dawn on me what I was getting into. Frankly, I nearly fainted. So that was the reason I complained about feeling ill and let you go home by yourself. And you'll have to admit I've never encouraged you any time since."
She snorted. "Huh! That certainly is the truth!" Her eyes searched his desperately for a moment. Then she said, "You fucked her, didn't you?"
"What? Who?"
"That girl you took home from the bar. You were with her in that hotel for a long time. Is she a hooker?"
"Certainly not!" Miles tried to sound indignant but he was really amused at the girl's naive concern.
"She looks like a hooker. Tits busting through her dress like that! Swinging her ass when she walks. I watched her! Well, answer me-did you fuck her?"
"Absolutely not. She behaved in a very lady-like fashion. I'll admit, Gail, I had my doubts the same as you. But all she did was offer me a drink and we talked."
"Humph!" She stared up at him resentfully. "Admit it-you went with her 'cause she's prettier than I am!"
He returned her stare. "She's pretty, yes, but not-" There was something about the youngster's face that made him look closer. "Say!" he cried. "What happened to you?" Her face was marked with faint but unmistakable bruises-yellow and blackish blue.
She looked away from him and clasped her hands behind her back. "Nothing," she replied in almost undistinguishable tones.
"Yes!" he exclaimed fiercely. Seizing her chin, he tilted her face backward to allow the full glare of the street lamp to fall on her face. "You're hurt! What happened?"
"Well...." she said, gulping, "it happened night before last. You remember, you and I were talking in Joey's. I wanted you to come with me to my room. Oh Miles, I was feeling so horny! Remember how I took your hand and held it under my skirt and kept rubbing it against my twat? I wanted to come right then and there, but I couldn't! I guess it was something in my mind-I kept thinking deep inside how much better it would be if it was your dick inside me. I guess I kept holding back because of that. Well anyhow, when you pushed me away and walked out of the bar I was just about out of my mind.
"I started to follow you like tonight but I didn't have the courage to stop you. I followed you all the way to your apartment. Then I didn't know what to do. I just wandered over toward Times Square and all the time I felt like I had ants crawling all over my pussy! I was stone crazy for a cock and I didn't know what to do. Juice was running down my legs and making the insides of my thighs all itchy. I felt my titties getting hard and I was feeling my nipples while I walked along Forty-second Street-people must have been sure I was soliciting when they saw me walking along with my hand inside the neck of my dress, feeling my tits like there was no tomorrow!
"Finally I realized that I had to have it so bad I couldn't wait another minute. I decided to stop the first guy that didn't look too bad and ask him if he wanted to fuck me. So I did it. I did it a couple of times but the guys just looked at me real funny and kept going. Then it dawned on me-they either thought I was some kind of nut or else they thought I was setting them up to get mugged or rolled. I realized I had to pretend to be a prostitute.
"That's what I did. I stopped the next likely looking guy and told him I'd ball for fifteen dollars. He didn't waste any time talking. He stopped a cab right then and there and we got in and drove to his hotel-one of those big places on Sixth Avenue. I kept telling myself how lucky I was. I should have been cursing myself out for a dope! When we got inside the room he didn't waste a second. Before he even took off his hat or his jacket he zipped his fly down and took out his prick and practically shoved it in my face! 'Lay your tongue on that, will you, honey?' he said, T always wanted to get sucked off by a little girl!'
"Well, that really wasn't what I had in mind but I went along with the gag a little way anyhow. I took his dick in my mouth-it was a horrible looking thing, all pimply and hairy and it nearly made me puke-and I sucked it for a minute or so. Then I said, let's get undressed and go to town, huh? He was willing, all right. As soon as I saw him naked I began to think I'd made a mistake. He was older than I'd thought and his body was flabby and ugly. All the time I thought I could pretend it was you I was screwing, Miles, but when I saw him naked, I knew I couldn't! But I had to go along with the deal. He fucked me hard, Miles. He didn't care whether I enjoyed it or not-he just slammed it into me-slammed and slammed and slammed until I thought every bone in my body would be broken. He slobbered and cursed something awful. He must have rammed me for fifteen minutes straight.
"Finally he came. He just lay there on top of me without moving. I thought it was all over. I just wanted to get dressed and get out. I didn't care whether he paid me or not. But that wasn't the end of it, Miles. It was just the beginning. You know what he did then? He beat me up!"
"He beat you up?" Miles repeated, astounded. "Why?"
"No reason! He just wanted to, that's all!" Now Gail was swallowing hard. She had difficulty in forming her words. "He held me down on the bed and beat me with his fists, his elbows ... he used me the way a fighter uses a punching bag!" She started to sob. "What kind of a son of a bitch does a thing like that, Miles?" she cried. "What gets into a man to do a thing like that?"
"Why didn't you scream?" Miles asked indignantly. "Why didn't you cry for help?"
By now Gail was sobbing so hysterically she could hardly speak at all. "I-I was afraid to scream. I was afraid he'd kill me if I did. So I just let him hit me. I don't know how long he punched me, but when it was all over he went into my purse and took out every cent I had.
The bastard! He took practically my entire week's wages. Then he shoved me out into the hall without a stitch on and threw my clothes out after me! I had to dress right there in public! Jesus, Miles, it was horrible!"
Miles held her by the shoulders and tried to comfort her. "Take it easy, Gail, take it easy," he said. He tilted her face to the light again and said grimly, "He gave you a black eye too, didn't he?"
She started to laugh shrilly. "That's nothing," she declared. "You really want to see something? Look!" And with that she tore open the front of her shirt and let it drop from her shoulders.
Miles cursed. "Why that bastard!" he blurted. "Your shoulders ... your sides ... even your breasts ... they're nothing but a mass of welts!"
"You might as well see the rest," she announced sardonically. And before Miles could restrain her she had unloosened the top button of her pants and let them drop to her ankles! She stood there for an instant, completely bare from her neck to her shoes in the street under the lamp! With a muttered expletive, Miles dived, seized her bell bottoms and yanked them back up again. But in that instant he saw the scratches and bruises on her poor little thighs, her belly and her legs. He also caught an intoxicating whiff of pungent fragrance from her excited young pussy and it made his cock tingle for a second in spite of himself!
"Here, here!" he exclaimed. "Button your shirt, Gail! My God, you can't expose yourself like this on the street." But the youngster was clearly past all reason. "Tell me," she cried, her voice rising, "what makes men such sons of bitches? I-I-all I wanted was a fuck from a nice guy. And I wind up getting the shit kicked out of me! What's the matter with men to make them act like that?"
Miles saw instantly he had two alternatives. He could walk away quickly and leave the poor little thing screaming in the street like a whipped dog. Or he could try to calm her down and talk some reason into her. But the street was not the place to do it. Already curious passersby were beginning to notice and draw nearer.
Miles quickly hailed a cab and pushed the still protesting Gail inside. "Where do you live?" he asked her. She gave him an address on the lower east side on the edge of Chinatown which he relayed to the driver. The cabbie looked at them questioningly but said nothing.
Miles let her blubber for a while-it seemed best to let her cry herself out. Finally she stopped crying and snuggled up alongside him on the seat. How soft her body was-and how frail! At length the cab stopped before an ancient tenement on a narrow street so dark that Miles marveled at the driver's ability to read the house numbers. "This is the place, Mac," he said.
Gail led the way up four flights of stairs that creaked beneath their weight. The bulbs on two of the landings were out and the stairwell reaked of urine and spilled wine. She unlocked a door, flipped on a switch and said proudly, "Well, this is the place!" It was a poor bare room with the merest necessities of furniture. But she kept it clean and there was even a pathetic attempt at enlivening the atmosphere with pictures snipped from magazines.
Now that she had Miles alone in her room, Gail seemed uncertain what to do next. She stood there trembling slightly, alternating between bravado and shyness. Miles, however, was all purpose. "Is this the best light we have?" he asked, pointing to the forty watt overhead fixture. "Yes," she replied. Miles sat down on the edge of the sagging day bed and said, "Come here."
Strangely, the youngster hung back. "What for?" she asked.
Miles, in spite of his sternness, could not help breaking into a grin. "What's the matter?" he asked. "What are you afraid of?"
"I'm afraid you'll spank me," she said in a faint voice.
Miles tried to suppress his grin as he said, "I'll do nothing of the kind. Come here, Gail. Please."
She approached and stood before him. Miles unbuttoned her shirt and told her to take it off. Then he examined her bare torso carefully. Now he could really see the extent of her punishment. A great wave of sorrow and sympathy swept over him. "Now take off your pants," he ordered. When she had done so he made her turn around. He whistled. "What did he use on your ass?" Miles asked. "A baseball bat?"
"He used his belt," she replied. "Does it look bad?"
"It looks very bad," Miles informed her. "Haven't you seen a doctor about this? You could have internal injuries, you know."
She shook her head. "I don't hurt inside," she said. "It's these cuts and bruises ... but I figure they'll go away." Miles took some money from his billfold and pressed it into the girl's hand. "I want you to go to a doctor whose name I'll give you," he said. "He's a good man; he'll give you a thorough physical. I know something about these matters, Gail. I work with women all day, helping them improve their bodies and I know a dangerous bruise or blood clot when I see it. Tell me something-when I touch you here-" he touched her hip, "-does it hurt?"
She jumped. "It hurts like a son of a bitch!" she gasped.
"You see? That's a danger area. You could have a clot there."
She regarded him sadly for a moment. Then she said, "Miles, touch me there again." They gazed into one another's eyes. Even in the dim light Miles saw something there he had not seen before. Unconsciously, without willing it, he slipped to his knees. His arms slipped around her unbelievably slender body and drew her to him. He leaned his cheek against her tiny breast and said, "Gail, I'm sorry I was the cause of all this. I'm sorry. I'm sorry...."
Neither spoke for a long time. Miles' brain was a turmoil of confused impressions: of Gail's softness, the light dew of sweat that covered her body, the sweet overpowering perfume that rose from the mysterious cleft between her legs, the rise and fall of her breasts.
At last she spoke. "Kiss me where it hurts," she pleaded.
He raised his head to look at her. "I'll start where it hurts the most," he said. "Just tell me where."
"My ass," she breathed, leaning forward slightly. Miles complied willingly. Getting behind her, he applied his lips to the two battered buttocks, tonguing her bruises, gently brushing with his lips the tormented flesh. "That's nice, Miles," she murmured, "that's nice. I never dreamed you'd do anything like this for me. Oh Jesus, I never had anybody kiss my ass before! All anybody ever wanted to do was to get their cock between my legs and come as fast as possible." She started to cry again. "My God, why is it you have to suffer misery before you find out what real pleasure is? Oh Miles, what are you doing to me now? Is that your finger you have on my asshole? No ... no, it's not! It's your tongue, isn't it? Oh! It feels so good to have your tongue slide up and down my crack like that. Are you sure you don't mind? Miles, kiss me all over like that...."
Miles began to cover her body with gentle kisses. Finally she said, "Take me on your lap." He sat on the edge of the bed and placed her naked, bird-like body in his lap as she requested. They sat there for a time, just embracing, not saying anything. Then somehow he was dimly conscious of a hand sliding between his legs ... a loving caress ... the next thing he knew, his hard cock was being scooped out of his pants by a trembling hand and inserted into something unbelievably soft! He felt the fragile little body sliding back and forth on his thighs ... back and forth ... it felt so good ... good ... he wouldn't have wanted her to stop for all the world....
She placed her mouth right next to his ear. He heard her say, "This is the way, isn't it, Miles? Just a nice quiet fuck-nothing wild or crazy. I could sit here and do this for an hour or more. All night if I had to. Just rubbing back and forth. Nothing anxious. I know your juice is warming up inside your balls. Isn't it? But it won't boil over for a long time. Know why? Because all that's inside my pussy is the head of your dick. Your head is peeking around the inside of my twat wondering what it will find there. It'll find lots of good things, Miles. My twat has been saving itself for you-you'll find out how much it loves your dick when the time comes. But right now I'll just wiggle my ass ever so slowly ... ever so slowly....
Miles felt as though time were suspended. He was no longer even conscious of holding Gail on his lap. Eventually though there came a moment when he heard her say urgently, "I'm going to come, Miles. Your wonderful big prick is going to shoot off its cream, I can feel it throbbing. Now, Miles! Swing me off your lap and between your legs! That's right! Ram your prick up into my guts as far as you can! Fuck! Fuck!"
Miles did as she ordered. Keeping her back to him he slammed his rod up into her pussy from behind. He manipulated her feathery lightness up and down on his tool ... up and down ... side to side, twisting her from side to side. At the very moment of his orgasm he suddenly jumped to his feet, impaling her body on his cock like a shisk kebab on a skewer. She screamed with joy. As she dangled there, he heard her say, "Keep me here forever, Miles! This is where I belong-I'm a part of you, Miles! I-oh Jesus, I can feel your sausage squirting into me yet! Oh yes, Miles, fill me up with your come. Fill me up so I can taste it in my mouth!"
Finally he lowered her body gently to the bed and began to stroke it lightly. "Feel better?" he asked. "Is some of the pauTgone?"
"Yes," she replied, "most of it. Miles, this was good. So good! Why couldn't it always be this way? Why don't you come and live with me? Or I could come and live with you. What would be wrong with that?"
"Everytlung would be wrong with it," he replied unhappily. "You know what I told you before. It was beautiful tonight. But we couldn't keep on like this."
She sat up abruptly. "Miles," she said impulsively, "if we can't behave like we're married, why couldn't we at least have the honeymoon? Let's go away to Bermuda or someplace like that for a week! It would be heaven, Miles, you know it would. You enjoyed sticking it into me just now, didn't you? Well just imagine all the other ways we could do it-one week in a Bermuda hotel with no job to get up for-nothing to do but enjoy one another's bodies. You could do anything you wanted to, anything at all! I wouldn't mind, no matter what it was. And I'd do anything you asked me to-I'd go down on you all night if that's what you wanted. What do you say, Miles-just one week? Then I'd never bother you again. I promise it!"
Her manner was so heartfelt that Miles felt like a rat having to turn her down. "Frankly," he said, "I wouldn't mind getting away for a week. But it's out of the question from the standpoint of money alone. I've put every cent into a new business I'm going into, Gail. And I'm committed so far ahead that I won't have an extra nickle for the next couple of years at least. Not a nickel. So there's no sense talking Bermuda or anything like that. Thanks for asking me though."
Gail was not easily put off. "How about after you're established in business?" she asked. "Could we do it then? I mean, if you had the money would you go away with me then? For just a week?"
He had to smile. "That day is a long way off," he declared. "Let's talk about this project when it arrives, all right?" Before she could object, he said, "Now look, young lady, I have to go very soon. This has been a very busy evening and I'm about ready to drop! But first I'm going to put you in condition for the good night's sleep that you need."
Her eyes lit up. "What are you going to do to me?" she asked.
He laughed. "Not what you think," he said. "Where's your bathroom?"
"Out in the hall," she said ruefully. "Why?" Without answering he went out to the bathroom and filled the tub with hot water. Then he wrapped Gail in her tattered bathrobe, lifted her in his arms, took her outside and, placing her in the tub, began to bathe her. He felt her body relax, then go completely limp. She closed her eyes and spoke only once to say, "Miles, I love you." He kept her in the water for a long time. Finally he lifted her out, dried her off, and took her back to her room. Then he placed her on her bed, sprinkled her from head to toe with baby powder and commenced to massage it into her skin with the lightest possible touch.
"I want you to know, Gail," he whispered, "that when you come to my salon this treatment I've given you will cost a minimum of fifty dollars. Tonight I'm letting you have it for free. See how nice I am to you?"
Her eyes were still closed. Her breathing came deep and regular. She smiled slightly and murmured, "I'm giving you exactly forty-eight hours to take your hands off me...." Then her breathing became even more regular and he knew she was asleep.
He kissed her tenderly on one breast and said, "Crazy kid. Crazy world." He turned off the light and set the catch so the door would lock behind him. He stepped outside and closed the door, then ruminated a moment. "Crazy Miles," he declared and began the long descent to the street.
CHAPTER SIX
DEMANDING DAUGHTER
Evelyn was lying on her back completely nude. Her legs were spread as wide as possible and her feet were secured by a pair of overhead stirrups. Dr. Rogers spread the lips of her pussy so far apart that she had to wince. At last he withdrew his probing fingers and as he stepped over to the sink to wash, said, "All right, Mrs. Joslin, you can get up and dress now."
She did so. As she stepped into her panties, she asked, "What do you think, Doctor?"
"It's just as I thought," he said, "you have an unusually large blood supply feeding into the vessels around the vagina. It makes you unusually sensitive down there. There may be other factors as well-psychological factors-contributing to your need for more or less constant intercourse. I'd like to explore those during our next meeting. Can you see me again, day after tomorrow, at the same time?"
"Yes, of course," Evelyn replied. "I suppose it's too early to tell how long the treatment will take, isn't it?"
The physician nodded. "You'll have to see me at least twice a week for two or three months minimum, that much I can assure you," he stated. "Have you been able to find a pleasant apartment in New York?"
"I'm staying in a hotel for the time being," she said. When she named the place, he frowned, protesting, "That's a very expensive hotel! You'd do much better, money-wise, to take a furnished apartment on a monthly basis."
"I understand good furnished apartments are difficult to find," Evelyn remarked as she secured the snap on her bra. "Do you have any contacts in the real estate field?" Dr. Rogers did and was more than willing to use them. As Evelyn sat at his side he made two phone calls. When he hung up the receiver the second time he smiled and said, "My friend tells me he has an excellent place, two rooms, in the east sixties. But you'd have to look at it today and give him your decision immediately. Could you do that?"
She certainly could. She took a cab directly to the real estate agent's office and from there they went to look at the apartment. It was small but more than adequate for her needs and situated in a very nice converted brownstone. She took it on the spot.
It had been such a busy exciting morning that Evelyn hadn't had more than a second's time to reflect on her adventure of the night before. Now though as she rode in the cab back toward her hotel she thought once more of Miles. I wonder what he found wrong with me? she wondered. He could at least have promised to call. And now that I'm moving he'll never know where to find me. Well, that's how it goes sometimes....
She immediately notified the desk clerk that she would be out of the hotel before six. Then she went upstairs to pack. She quickly found herself speculating on the family in the next suite of rooms. She wondered how events were progressing there. Had either the father or daughter regretted their action? Or had they gone even further by now? Evelyn assumed, hearing no sounds beyond the door, that the family was out. But as she finished packing her first suitcase she heard the outside door slam and the sound of the father's voice saying, "Hi, Jean! Did you enjoy the movie?"
"It was okay," the daughter replied carelessly. "Mother won't be back for a while. She wanted to take some stupid snapshots of Rockefeller Center. So I left her." A tremor of excitement passed through Evelyn. She didn't really want to spy on them-she was trying to put herself above all that. On the other hand she had to face the fact that she was prey to any situation that even smelled of sex-at least until Dr. Rogers began his treatments. Her hand darted involuntarily between her legs as she kneeled once again beside the keyhole.
"I'm just as glad she's not here," the girl went on as she removed her wide brimmed hat and sank languidly into a chair. Evelyn noticed she looked appreciably older than she had the day before. In her dark, knee length dress, black patent leather pumps and smartly groomed hairstyle she could easily have passed for a twenty year old secretary. Her manner was much more mature as well.
"Glad she's not here?" the father asked with an indulgent leer. "Can I guess why?"
The girl's voice was sharp as she shot back, "I have something to discuss with you, father! You fucked mother last night, didn't you?"
"Why-why yes!"
"I thought so. I could hear the bedsprings squeaking in here. There couldn't have been more squeaking if an army of mice had been let loose! That's got to stop, Dad!"
"What do you mean? What's got to stop?"
"I don't want you plowing mother anymore. Dad-what it comes down to is this: you've got to choose between us. You can't have it both ways. Do you really think you can pull your dripping wick out of mother's snatch and then stick it into me? Oh no, Dad, I'm not made that way!"
The man seemed utterly bewildered. "But-but I don't understand," he cried. "Why the competition? She's my wife. She wants me to lay her. She needs it. If she didn't get it, there'd be hell to pay!"
The girl stretched out her lovely long slim legs on the hassock. As she did so, her skirt rode up above the stocking tops, disclosing an inch of smooth flawless young flesh. "That's what I'm getting at, Dad," she said nervelessly. "Let me give you the whole pitch. I've done a lot of thinking since that little episode yesterday afternoon."
"I hope you don't hold that against me, child," her father said uneasily. "I-"
The girl emitted a short scornful barking laugh. "Why the fuck should I hold it against you?" she cried. "It was the best thing that ever happened to me! But you know one thing as well as I do, Dad-nothing can ever be the same again. Not one little thing. And here's what I've decided: I'm not going back to school this fall."
"But you have to finish your education, Jean," her father reminded her unhappily. "What could you do without a diploma? You couldn't even be a stenographer. You'd have to work in a factory somewhere. I presume you want to work. Certainly you don't propose to just sit around her house all day!"
"I do not intend to work," the girl informed him, sharply as before. "I do not!" She leaned forward and riveted her intense gaze on her father's countenance as she said, "Dad, I'm going to keep house for you from now on. I want mother out of there."
The man was almost too astonished to speak. "You want-you want mother out of the house? I-I don't believe this!"
"I'm deadly serious. I want the old bitch out of the house. I want you to divorce her. Then I want for you and me to pull up stakes and move to another town somewhere far away so we can start life all over again as man and wife."
The man's jaws moved but nothing came out. For a moment Evelyn feared he was going to have a fit. He stood up, moved his arms helplessly, then went to the window and stood there for several minutes just looking out. When he turned, it was as if some enormous change had come over him. It didn't even look like the same man.
"All right, Dad, what's it going to be? Which do you choose? Me? Or her-with her droopy ass, her sagging tits and that twat of hers that looks like a rat that somebody deliberately ran over in the street."
"I choose you, of course," the father announced quite calmly. "But brushing off Mildred won't be all that easy, I promise you. She'd never divorce me. No matter what I did. No matter how much I pleaded, no matter how much I threatened. She'd never take her hooks out of me."
"There must be a way. There has to be."
"Yes," he said moodily, "but I'm damned if I know what it could be."
"Dad, come over here." She beckoned to him with a crooked forefinger. He went over and stood alongside her chair. Her gaze meshed with his in a near-hypnotic stare as she unzipped his fly. She took out his dick and began to jerk it slowly. "Do you like this?" she asked.
"Yes! Yes! Very much!"
"I'm trying to stimulate your thought processes," she told him. "I find that when I masturbate my own thought processes flow much faster and clearer." She started to jerk him with increasing violence. "Dad," she said, "wouldn't she divorce you if she knew about you giving it to Aunt Martha up the ass?"
The father's head rolled and wagged in delicious ecstasy as the young girl's slim fingers continued to manipulate his stiff cock. "N-no, I don't think so. It'd make her madder than hell but she wouldn't divorce me over something like that," he managed to blurt through contorted lips.
"Well, you're going to have to think of something," she said impatiently. "I mean, you do want me, don't you? You're not making a fool out of me, are you?-promising to marry me so you can fuck me and handle me whenever you feel like it and then pulling the rug out from under me when you've gotten tired of my body!"
"B-but we can't get married!" he exclaimed. Sweat had broken out on his face. "That's-that's just not possible!"
"Oh, I don't mean actually married," she retorted. "But we'll be the next thing to it. Well, have you thought about how we're going to get rid of mother yet?"
"N-no...." he replied. The girl gave him a pitying look. "I can see I'm really going to have to spark your mental processes," she said. And with that she calmly slipped her mouth over her father's penis and began to suck it!
"Oh Jesus," the man cried, moving his hips backward and forward in a slow fucking motion. "That's what I want more than anything else in this whole world, Jean! Your tongue feels like wet rose petals on my cock. I never dreamed that anything could be this good!" Evelyn was genuinely shocked to see the pretty youngster blowing her father in an almost professional manner ... running her tongue up and down his shaft, then bobbing her head frantically up and down over it as her long blonde hair swished and swirled about her shoulders.
Suddenly the man reached out and grabbed her by the ears. "Oh," he moaned, "take my come in your mouth, please Jean, please! Let me slide my prick all the way down 'into your throat ... easy ... it won't hurt, my darling, I promise you it won't hurt. Yes, I'm starting to shoot my load. You don't have to move your head, dearest-just stay still. And I'm going to stand still while my dick spurts its cream into your gullet. Oh God, there it goes-it's starting to shoot ... and shoot ... and shoot! Now suck with all your might!"
The youngster's cheeks went hollow as she tried to suck his stem dry. At last, trembling, the man pulled his rod away from her eager lips. "Any ideas?" she asked, smiling up at him. A trickle of sperm ran slowly out the comer of her mouth.
"Yes," he declared in a low voice. "It just came to me. Your-your Uncle Morgan. I know for a fact that he's been coming around to the house during the day when I've been at the office and balling your mother pretty much as he pleased. I never said anything because they were pretty discreet about the matter. But she's thrown it up to me a couple of times about how Morgan is really making a name for himself in the business world and how much more active he is in social affairs and so forth. I really think that if I encouraged her I could bring her around to the point where she'd decide she had to have Morgan and demand a divorce from me!
Yes, I really think that'd work."
"He had a bigger cock than you too," Jean announced calmly. "Oh Daddy-please be careful! You're dripping your scum on the rug-mother will be sure to notice."
The father scuffed the incriminating droplets into the rug with his shoes. Then he cried in anguished tones, "What? Bigger cock than me? How do you know?"
"He's exposed himself to me more than once," she replied imperturbably. "Ever since I was twelve, the perverted old fuck! Never mind, don't get mad at him. We'll get some use out of him now! Well, how did you enjoy my first attempt at a suck job? Was I good?"
"Were you good? You were fantastic! How was it for you, Jean? Do you enjoy holding a man's dick in your mouth and swallowing his juice?
"It was super, Dad. The only thing is, your dick tasted kind of funny. Maybe I should have washed it first! When was the last time you had it up Aunt Martha's ass?" They both laughed.
"'There's something else I've got to say," the man ventured seriously. "This idea of yours about moving to another town and starting all over again as husband and wife-I don't think it would work."
"Why not?"
"Because people would get suspicious in a hurry. Even under the best of circumstances you do look very young! People would think I had kidnapped you or something like that. And if they ever found out the true situation, well. ... No Jean, I think it would be lots more fun to stay right where we are. Once we match your mother up with Uncle Morgan and she goes off to live with him we can do anything we like. And do it right under the noses of the neighbors and relatives! Doesn't that sound like a ball?"
"Hey, crazy!" the youngster cried. "Oh Dad, can you imagine how wild it will be, you and me fucking right there in the same bed that you and mom sleep in now? A whole eight hours in bed together every night with no one to spy on us! No one to prevent us from doing anything we like!" Suddenly she took hold of his prong saying, "You're still dripping, Dad. It kills me to see that good juice going to waste." Pulling him closer she squeezed the last few drops of his come into the palm of her hand, then licked them off. "It has a faint sweet taste, something like honey, did you know that, Dad? I warn you," she declared with a roguish smile, "I'm going to sprinkle your honey on my oatmeal once we're settled together. Don't laugh-I am! I'm going to jerk you off right in my oatmeal-that way I'll get the cream and sugar at the same time!"
The man allowed her to continue caressing his cock and his balls. "There's just one thing that causes me a tiny bit of worry, Jean," he said. "You're still a very young girl. How do I know that you won't get tired of me in year or so? Suppose you suddenly decide you'd like a boy your own age or maybe a couple of years older. It would be a natural thing, let's admit it. Then I'd be left alone with no one at all."
The girl's face became almost grimly serious. "You don't have to worry about that, Dad," she said. "I've made up my mind about that detail. I think I really decided that a long time ago. It's like I told you before-I'm a very shy person. Oh, don't smile! It's true. I know I must seem very bold to you, but I'm not really. I-I just can't go through all that hassle that's involved with courtship and dating. I just cringe at the idea. I'd almost rather die or live like an old maid rather than go through all those stupid motions!"
The father took her by the hand and led her to the small sofa that stood against one wall. "But someone your own age would give you the kind of social life most girls want," he explained. "And you'd mix with other marrieds, have parties, go to football weekends-you know what I mean. Are you willing to give that up?"
"Am I!" the girl cried. "Am I! Just try me!" She suddenly adopted a wooing seductive manner. "Daddy," she said, "when I was a little girl, you always told me how nice I looked. Don't you like the way I look today? I dressed specially for you but you haven't said anything nice about my things. Why is that?"
"Because I'm sometimes forgetful," he said, patting her hand.
"Well tell me about my nice clothes," she insisted, pouting. "Tell me!"
"That's not hard," the father said earnestly. "I love those black patent leather spike heels of yours. They're very elegant. In fact, once you and I have the house to ourselves I'm going to insist that you parade around completely naked except for your heels sometimes. You can't imagine how stimulating a thing like that can be, my dear. That's because wearing high heels throws your weight onto a different set of muscles and makes your ass thrust out in a very dominant way. You have such a pretty, well developed ass, it's a shame not to make the most of it!"
"Secondly, I like that flesh colored hose you're wearing today: Are you wearing garters with it?"
"Want to see?" the girl asked mischievously. She slowly raised the hem of her skirt up above her stocking tops, revealing first the creamy smooth flesh of her thighs, then a brief glimpse of yellow lace panties. "Shall I show you my panties?" she asked. "You'll die when you see them!"
"I was sort of hoping you weren't wearing any," the father declared mildly. "Get set!" the girl cried. She yanked the dress up around her waist.
The man gasped. "It's all cut away in front!" he exclaimed. "I-I can see your pussy and all your pussy hair. Where did you ever find lingerie like that?"
"There's a kooky store on Seventh Avenue that sells all kinds of freak stuff like this," the girl informed him. She jumped off the sofa and, standing brazenly before him with her skirts raised high, practically shoved her crotch in his face. The father inserted an insolent finger into the crevice so invitingly displayed before him. "You have excellent taste in lingerie, my dear," he said.
"Wait'll you see the rest!" she chortled, turning her back on him and displaying her rear. That too was all cut away! The tempting cleft of the youngster's asscrack drew the father's probing finger once more.
"Isn't that super, Dad?" she cried, turning to face him once more. "When I'm wearing these you can get at either of my two honey holes with no trouble at all. I mean, no matter where we are-at home or out for a drive or having a quiet walk some evening-if you want to give me a good feel either in front or behind or even stick your dick into me, all you have to do is haul up my dress and pick your hole! And now let me show you my bra-that's just as wild!"
She raised her dress with tantalizing slowness. Finally, her superbly formed titties were revealed. The father slapped his knee and laughed out loud. "Hey, the cups of your bra are cut away too!" he guffawed. "Somehow your nipples look even more enticing that way-sticking out through holes in the bra!"
"Oh Daddy!" the girl cried, nearly sobbing with happiness, "you see why it's so perfect for us? We know how to please one another so well. If I were to get involved with some young fellow, I'd have to spend years breaking him in, getting him accustomed to my likes and dislikes, having to adjust my ways to his. With you and me that's not necessary. We already know one another's little quirks and foibles. I could never find anyone who'd put up with my bitchiness the way you do!"
"Now, now, Jean," the father admonished her, "you're not to say that. You're not a bitch!"
"Oh yes!" the girl declared. "Just wait-you'll see. I'm going to be very demanding of you. Wait till we're all alone with no chance of anyone busting in on us. I'm going to be bitchy as hell. Just picture yourself after a rough night balling me every time I wake you up-balling me or eating my pussy every hour on the hour. Imagine yourself half-dead after a night like that. You stagger down to the breakfast table-and I yank your prick out of your pajama fly and force you to jerk off in my cereal! You won't be quite so ready then to declare I'm not a bitch!"
"Sit down alongside me, child, and let me explain something," the father said. As she did so he ran two fingers into the delightfully convenient hole in her panties and commenced to masturbate her. "Is it all right if I do this, darling? Thank you! Now let me tell you that when it comes to sheer rotteness of disposition you could never match your mother. She would have her woman friends over for cards and after they'd killed a fifth of my scotch, they'd call me in and make me take off my pants. They'd pass me from hand to hand, making sarcastic remarks about the size of my penis, the freckles on my testicles, the shape of my ass and so forth. Then I'd have to screw at least one of them. One night they brought along a stranger-a grotesquely skinny woman who was a real nut when it came to taking it up both holes at once. One of the other women invited her brother over and while he gave it to the skinny one the regular way up the cunt I screwed her in the ass. It was the weirdest goddamned scene I've ever gotten mixed up in. She was so thin that when I got my cock all the way up her behind I could feel the other guy's dong inside her vagina. I felt like some kind of queer, rubbing dicks with some other guy like that. But that was typical of the situations your mother has gotten me into."
Jean kissed him tenderly on the cheek. "You don't have to worry," she whispered. "I'll never abuse you that way. But it really does sound as though you like to bugger! Tell you what, Dad-" Here the girl lay across her father's lap in the position a child assumes when it is about to be spanked, "-play with my asshole, Dad. Run your finger up there gently. I'm going to have to get used to your coming in the back door from time to time so why don't you sort of help me get used to the idea? Do you like my ass, Dad? Do you really think it's pretty?"
"It's very pretty, my dear. Your globes are so firm and so round! Packed so solid and yet so soft. Some night when we have all the time in the world, I'll just make love to your buttocks. You'll be surprised at how much can be done with a single piece of anatomy like the rear end. After a while, I may be able to make it so sensitive that you'll have an orgasm there just as you do in front."
"Oh, I'd love that," the girl cried.
"Honestly, I'm learning so much from you, Dad. Gosh, do you think it would be possible for us to have another fuck? Or would that be too much to ask, coming so soon after a blow job?"
"I really think we'd better adjust our clothing and get ourselves together very soon, Jean. Your mother is apt to put in an appearance at any moment. It would hardly do for her to find us like this, you with your legs spread in this lascivious posture while I finger fuck you and me with my dong hanging out the front of my pants, still dripping from that excellent frenching you gave me!"
"Oh but Dad-this isn't fair! Your finger has got me so hot I'm ready to climb the wall."
"I'm sorry, my dear," the man smirked, "if I've gotten you overexcited, but you'll notice I haven't been purposely diddling you. I've only been scraping the honey from inside your adorable little snatch and now I'm going to have my first taste!" A crystalline fluid dripped from the father's fingers as he withdrew them from the girl's twat. Hastily, so as not to lose more than a drop or two, he popped his fingers into his mouth and began to suck them greedily. He rolled his eyes. "Mother of God, that tastes good!" he exclaimed. "Your juice has such a fresh clean taste-more like new cider than honey actually."
"Let me taste," the girl beseeched him, trying to grab his hand.
"No, no, this is all mine," the father retorted laughingly, keeping out of her reach.
"Oh father, you really are such a prick!" she pouted. "Well, I'll get even with you, wait and see!" Altering her tone, she then said, "Gosh, I have to go to the bathroom something awful! Daddy, you know how I like it when you treat me like your little girl ... like when I was real little and couldn't take care of myself. Daddy, take down my pants and put me on the potty."
"Of course, my dear," the man replied instantly. "You are my little girl and all you have to do is ask for what you want and I'll see that you get it."
With this, he stood up, picked his daughter up in his arms and carried her out of the room, hi the bathroom, they were of course out of Evelyn's vision but she heard the girl say, "You see what I mean, Daddy? No husband would treat me like this, picking me up, carrying me into the bathroom, taking down my pants and setting me on the toilet. No husband would be this gentle. Oh, I really had to go a long time ago but it felt so good sitting there on the sofa with you, letting your hand explore inside me, I just couldn't bring myself to get up. Wow, I've never had such a good piss! Um ... that feels nice ... God, I must have squirted a gallon. Are you sure you don't mind watching me while I'm on the toilet?"
The ring of the telephone came as such an intrusion that Evelyn nearly jumped out of her skin. Her first thought was: it must be a mistake. Who would phone me? Then she thought: it must be a long distance call from home! I wonder if there's trouble? Oh dear, if something has happened to KenShe snatched up the phone. "Yes?" she said in a tremulous voice. It was Miles! She recognized the voice instantly. "Why Miles-what a pleasant surprise! I wasn't sure I'd ever hear from you again. How have you been? What? This evening? Why, I'd love to! Let's say around seven, all right? Oh, I'd better tell you, I can't meet you here-no, I'm moving. Got a pencil? I'll give you my new address and you can pick me up there...." She gave him the address. She was floating on air when she placed the receiver back on the hook. Miles! And she had almost convinced herself she would never set eyes on him again.
She raced through her packing-thank heavens she hadn't removed more than the essentials from her suitcases. Snapping them shut at last, she threw one final lingering glance at the door separating her from the family in the next room. What strange lives people lead, she reflected. To see those people on the street, they'd seem no different from any other small American family, quiet in their ways and very conventional. But place them in the privacy of a room and all hell breaks loose! I wonder how that particular story will end? I'll never know but I'll always wonder....
She would have to scurry to do everything that had to be done before Miles called for her. Check out ... convey her luggage uptown ... straighten out her new place a little ... unpack ... shower ... dress-when the doorbell sounded promptly at seven she had gotten everything in order and was just applying the finishing touch to her makeup.
"Great timing!" she exclaimed when she greeted Miles at the door. "What a day I've had! So many things to be done! But I've gotten them all out of the way and now I'm all yours, Miles." She eyed him keenly to see how he would take this last remark.
But he only smiled noncommittally and said, "I know a nice little place we can go just down the block. Ready?"
The place in mind turned out to be a tiny cocktail lounge which seemed to have been installed in the pub style restaurant as an afterthought. As they sat over their vodka martinis, Evelyn said, "Well, Miles, I'll have to tell you again-this is such a pleasant surprise. Somehow, when you left me last night I'd gotten the impression I'd done or said something that might have offended you. Had I?"
Gazing at her warmly, Miles replied, "Not at all, Evelyn-far from it! It's just that-well, perhaps this is the time to lay my cards on the table." He explained his present financial situation, dwelt at some length on his plans and ambitions for the future and concluded by saying, "So that's it, Evelyn. I really don't have the wherewithal to entertain you in the style to which I'm sure you're accustomed. A year from now it may be a very different story but right now I'm cramped. I wasn't going to see you again because most women are impatient with excuses. But after thinking it over I felt you might be different. At any rate I knew I had to see you at least one more time!"
Evelyn placed her hand on his arm. "Oh Miles!" she cried commiseratingly. "I understand! How could you think I wouldn't? Look-what plans did you have for the evening after we finish our drinks?"
"Well," he said, "I though we might eat here-"
"Not a bit of it!" she informed him sternly. "This place looks like a cheese sandwich would cost you an arm and a leg. I have a better idea. Couldn't we buy some food in a supermarket somewhere and take it back to your place and cook it? It would taste better I can assure you and we could be so much more comfortable."
She could tell immediately from the way his face lighted up that he liked the idea. They found a supermarket on Second Avenue that sold packaged steaks. They bought a bagful of groceries as well and took a cab to Miles' apartment in the east eighties.
As they entered, Evelyn's eyes immediately went wide. "What a beautiful place you have, Miles!" she cried. "I love these modern things-all this redwood and polished chrome! Where's your hi-fi?"
Miles indicated the cabinet with his forefinger. Then while he went into the kitchen and started readying things, Evelyn turned on the hi-fi and selected a station with some appropriately romantic music. Then she joined Miles in the kitchen. "Got an apron?" she demanded. "I'm the chef tonight!"
Miles seemed to enjoy her dinner to the fullest. They had an espresso and brandy afterwards, then he pulled her to her feet and they began to dance to the dreamy rhythms of Mantovani. She cuddled his cheek to hers and allowed her body to melt close to his gracefully masculine frame.
Swaying to the music, her eyes closed, Evelyn thought: If he tries to become intimate with me tonight, I won't refuse him. Even though it's only our first real date, it's the second time we've seen one another so why stand on formality? I wouldn't want him to be crude about it but if he were to hold me very, very close and gradually lift my skirt higher and higher and then slowly, gently, lovingly start to feel up my ass, what would be wrong with that? When he saw that I didn't object to his attentions so far, I presume he might insert his thigh between my legs in such a way that I could feel his erect dick against my crotch and when I didn't protest his rubbing it against me, I'm sure he'd get the message. He'd draw me down to the sofa and we'd get into some serious petting. After all, he knows I've been married. I'm not one of those professional virgins that hang out in those damned bars. So he knows he can stick his finger up my pussy ... he knows I'll cream for him and when he sees how wet and sloppy I get between the legs he'll know it's time to lead me into the bedroom and show me how hard one hundred and eighty pounds of solid masculine flesh can sock a stiff prick into my soft, willing pussy....
But after they had danced a while, Miles only said, "Well, it's getting to be near midnight and I have a tough schedule lined up for tomorrow. I'm sure you have things to do too. Maybe I'd better take you home."
Rendered practically speechless with surprise, Evelyn could only sputter, "Well ... all right ... if that's the way it is!" He offered to take her home but she resolutely rejected the offer. "Please don't think you have to see me to the door," she said. "I'm a big girl, I'll get home all right. Thanks for a wonderful evening, Miles."
The fellow has to be queer, she decided bitterly. My first instincts were right! He's one of those homos who enjoy feminine companionship but can't get it up for a girl. The hell with him! I never want to see him again!
But the kiss he planted on her astonished mouth at the door didn't feel like a queer's! And his warm embrace was as musculine as a girl could desire.
What is with this fellow? Evelyn asked herself frantically as she flagged down a cab to take her home. Why doesn't he respond? Why doesn't he just throw me down and screw me silly?
CHAPTER SEVEN
MILES MAKES IT
Miles' perplexing behavior might have seemed far less puzzling if Evelyn could have observed him during a typical day at the salon.
It was two days following his date with Evelyn that Miles was summoned to the office of his employer, Miss Steele, at about ten in the morning. Miss Steele exhibited her lithe miniskirted figure to excellent advantage by resting her shoes on the desk as she said, "I've got a good one waiting for you in the Gold Room, Miles. It's a Miss Forster. She just stumbled in here more or less by accident yesterday, wondering if we could do something to sharpen up her appearance. As soon as I learned she had just inherited close to a million dollars, I decided there was no limit to what we could do!
"She's pretty much a mess as she stands, Miles; she comes from a little town upstate. She knows absolutely nothing about makeup, figure care, clothes, or anything else. She's about the most unsophisticated person I've ever seen. Having said that, I'd also like to emphasize that she has a good basis for improvement. She has a good body structure; she's not fat and I think she's intelligent enough to follow along with a well thought out program.
"Miles, I want you to sell her the whole ball of wax-the works! Makeup, slim-down, exercise, wardrobe selection-everything under the roof. Like I said, she's got a whole million dollars to play around with and she might as well spend some of it here. If you can sell her the whole fucking package there'll be a nice hefty bonus in your next pay envelope!"
He understood very well what she meant by a "nice hefty bonus." It could be as much as five hundred dollars-bringing him significantly nearer to the day when he could cut loose on his own.
The gold room took its name from it domed gold-colored ceiling. The walls were lined with mirrors and the floor was carpeted with an ankle deep rug in the softest of grays. Miss Forster was sitting in an overstuffed French provincial armchair reading a magazine.
She looked up unhappily as they entered but when her eyes came to rest on Miles her manner eased somewhat. Miss Steele led him over to Miss Forster and said in her most cordial manner, "Miss Forster, I'd like you to meet Mr. Miles Edwards. He is our most experienced, most skillful operator. I'd like you to talk with him for a few moments. Please feel free to ask him any questions you like. And if there's any demonstration of our techniques that you'd like him to perform, don't hesitate to request it. There will be no charge for this introductory service. All right?" She darted a winning smile at the woman, gave Miles' arm a little squeeze and disappeared.
Miss Forster still looked unhappy. She threw aside the magazine and folded her hands in her lap. Miles took an instant to size her up. She was obviously in her late thirties and unmistakably dowdy. Her dress was a dead shade of brown, her hair showing the painful results of a misconceived venture in home dying, her shoes were run over, she used too much powder, and had a tendency to slump.
But at the same time she had good bone structure in face and body, an alert manner, and could, Miles decided, be turned into a truly handsome woman with just a little care and perseverance. For once he was inclined to agree with Miss Steele that whatever Miss Forster decided to invest in improving her personal appearance would repay her many times over. Accordingly, he resolved to go all out in doing whatever had to be done to bring her around.
"Miss Forster," he said, "before we do anything else, I'd like to make my own personal evaluation. Will you be good enough to stand, please?" The woman got to her feet somewhat awkwardly and regarded Miles in an abashed manner while he boldly looked her over. She had an even better figure than he had at first surmised! Just an ounce or so off the tummy and thighs and it might even verge on the voluptuous! Her breasts were medium sized but well shaped and her rear end was a magnificent piece of sculpture.
When Miles had finished his appraisal he said briskly, "Miss Forster, I'm going to be perfectly honest with you. Miss Steele and I do not always agree in these matters; quite frankly, she tends to flatter the customer. I tend to be rather blunt. Therefore, I must tell you that viewed in the eyes of the 'man in the street,' you are a total disaster!"
Miss Forster's mouth dropped open. After Miss Steele's honeyed flattery, this was the last thing in he world she expected to hear! "Well," she said, shifting awkwardly from one foot to the other, "I didn't realize I was quite that far gone. That means there's no hope, doesn't it?"
Miles shook his head decisively. "Far from it! I think a great deal can be done. But it means that you would have to lose every prejudice ... drop every opinion ... forget every misconception you presently hold about personal grooming. Frankly, if you were to ask me to redesign your hairdo or give you a facial, I'd have to refuse!"
The woman bit her lip. "Why is that?" she asked.
"Because a facial or a new coiffure or a muscle toning treatment would delude you into thinking we were making you beautiful. This would be a cruel error."
She winced. "You mean I'm just plain homely and nothing can be done about it, is that it?"
"No," he informed her, "I mean just the opposite. You are already beautiful! You have a beautiful face and a truly exciting body. But for some reason-early influences I suppose-you persist in dragging yourself down. Miss Forster," he said, approaching closely, so closely she could feel his breath on her face, "I want to restructure you from head to toe. Will you give me an hour or so to show you how this might be done? At no charge? With no obligation?"
She smiled timidly. "Well," she murmured, "I don't see why not. On that basis I guess I have nothing to lose, right?"
"You have everything to gain," he informed her enthusiastically. "I presume Miss Steele has told you that we are firm believers in what we call 'Beauty Indivisible.' That means we offer expert guidance not only in makeup and hairdo but also in exercise and muscle toning, choice of wardrobe, everything!"
"Well yes, she said something about it. I-I guess I could use some good advice on all those things. My clothes for example-"
"Your clothes are a mess! Excuse me, Miss Forster, but I must speak honestly or not at all. And that brings me to the next point. As you probably know the women who come here usually change into leotards before we begin the treatment. Do you have them?"
"Leo-leo what? I don't believe I know what they are."
"They are a skin tight costume that permits a great freedom of movement. Oh well, for this one time you can take the treatment in your underwear!" He slid aside a mirrored panel to disclose a tiny dressing room. "Please remove your dress and leave it in here. Your slip too. But not another thing, please!"
Would she do it? he wondered. She was obviously a very inhibited type. He was practically certain she had never exhibited herself in her scanties before a man in her entire life. She gulped, thought a moment, then said slowly, "Well ... I-I guess it's all right. Fellows like you must see plenty of women every day in those brief daring costumes. You probably don't think anything of it. All-all right." She went into the dressing cubicle and closed the door behind her.
She was a long time about the simple operation of removing her dress and slip. Perhaps she's lost her nerve, Miles thought. But after several minutes the panel finally slid open and Miss Forster stepped out. Miles felt an electric tingle shoot through his groin. With that baggy brown dress out of the way, Miss Forster was totally transformed! Her hips and thighs had a magnificent fullness that was clearly made for fondling, light squeezes, caressing, kissing. There wasn't a straight line on her anywhere! Her ass had a majestic roll when she walked. As one cheek quivered and contracted the other would distend and blossom to the full extent of its luscious curvature. Her arrogantly pouting breasts, inadequately restrained by a gauzy bra, revealed delicate blue veining that only served to accentuate the translucent whiteness of their tightly drawn skin. Her belly was a dimpled landscape of prick-stiffening anticipation that dived into a lush tangle of glossy black pussy hair that extended far above the elastic band of her sheer white nylon panties.
She approached him timidly. "I-I guess my underthings are a trifle revealing, aren't they?" she stammered. "I'd have worn something else if I'd known I'd have to show myself in front of a man!"
Conscious-all too keenly-that his prick was just on the point of snapping to attention, Miles strove to preserve a severely business-like air. "All right now, Miss Forster," he said austerely, "I want to examine you first for posture. Please walk up and down in front of me a few times."
She did so. Holy smoke! Miles thought silently, the way that fantastic can of hers manages to roll and jiggle at the same time-I don't know how I can stand it! After a few moments, he commanded, "All right, you can stop now. Stand here in front of me, Miss Forster. Turn around ... face away from me, please."
She obeyed. "Aha, just as I thought!" he exclaimed sharply. "This lingerie is totally unsuitable for you. Your panties have crept up into the crack between your buttocks and become wedged in there. I'm sure that doesn't feel very comfortable, does it?" He deliberately inserted his fingers into her asscrack and dislodged the sodden rope of nylon that had lodged there. He took his time about smoothing her panties over her richly succulent assglobes. "Now doesn't that feel better?"
Miss Forster's face flared the deepest shade of crimson Miles had ever seen as she answered, "Yes," in a low whisper.
Miles rose from his kneeling position and went around to look at her from the front. After a moment he rendered his verdict. "That bra is definitely not right for you," he declared. "I'm not even sure you should be wearing a bra. Kindly remove it for a moment."
"Is-is that completely necessary?" she asked. "Really, I'm beginning to feel terribly embarrassed."
"Of course it's not necessary," he snapped. "Let me call Miss Steele on the intercom. She'll assign you to an operator who is not accustomed to making as thorough an evaluation as I am!" He reached for the intercom button. Miss Forster quickly restrained him.
"It's-it's all right," she cried, reaching up behind herself to unhook the bra. "I trust you, Mr. Edwards. I-I must admit there was something about you I liked from first sight. Please continue. I'm putting myself entirely in your hands."
"All right," Miles replied, mollified. He eyed her bust keenly as she removed its clinging coverage. "Miss Forster, I think you'll be glad of your decision. Because I can tell you, you have no need of support for your breasts whatsoever. Throw away your bra! Fortunately the braless look is fashionable today. Isn't it nice to be in fashion?"
She stared down at her breasts. "No bra? Are you sure?"
"Absolutely. Your breasts are so firm and solidly fleshed that I would recommend only one thing: a skin tightening cream. I think I may have a sample here...." Miles rummaged in a drawer of the eighteenth century style desk and emerged with a small jar of white cream. He handed it over to the woman, saying, "Kindly smear some of this on your bust. See how cool it feels. Notice the astringent action. It will help support your bust without artificial help."
He watched her face as she removed some of the cream from the jar with her fingertips and smoothed it gingerly over her breasts. "Rub it in good," he advised. "Especially on the undersides and around the nipples."
She obeyed him. Gradually, he noticed, she commenced to breathe deeper. Perspiration appeared on her upper lip and forehead. Just as he thought-her breasts were an unusually sensitive erogenous zone. She was probably the type who could masturbate to orgasm simply by fondling her nipples.
"Oh yes," she breathed, "my goodness, yes-that is a good cream, isn't it? So tingly ... so stimulating...." Miles continued to watch as she scooped practically the entire contents from the jar and slathered it over her quivering boobs. "Oh, I must buy a large jar of this before I go today. This is what I'll use from now on. And no more bra!"
"You see?" Miles smiled. "We're making progress already! Now, Miss Forster, as you no doubt realize, a very important aspect of your personal grooming is your special deodorant protection. Today, one deodorant is no longer considered sufficient. Let's discuss your underarm protection first. I'm sure you use some kind of deodorant there-most people do. But most people also do not realize that not all such products prevent perspiration. Some do-some definitely do not! Miss Forster, kindly raise your arms-I want to examine you for traces of both odor and sweat. Do you mind? Very good!"
Obviously somewhat embarrassed, Miss Forster raised her arms high over her head, imparting a delightful cup-like aspect to her breasts as she did so. Miles eyed her armpits closely, then ran his nostrils up and down over this sensitive area of her body, letting the tip of his nose just graze the skin. It was immediately apparent from the tiny beads of perspiration that started to break out in the hollows and run down the sides of her rib cage that he was exciting her by this maneuver.
"Hm," he observed half aloud, "I notice some slight moisture here but practically no odor whatsoever. Frankly, I would continue to use whatever product you're currently using. May I tell you a slight secret of male psychology, Miss Forster?"
She broke into a broad smile as she lowered her arms. "Please do," she said.
"All right-it's this-a little moisture doesn't hurt. Most men are turned on by the sight of a woman sweating. What if your dress does get soaked under the armpits. It can be easily cleaned. It's a small price to pay to win over the man you want. Do you understand?"
"Why-why I never knew that! That's very interesting. Heavens, I am learning things today!"
"And-" Miles went on, "-if the man is truly interested in you he'll be glad to do what I'm now about to do." And with this Miles gently raised her arm once more and began to lick the sweat that was now streaming from the hollows of her armpits! His zealous tongue quested all over her underarm area, down over her ribs and flicked the sides of her breast once or twice. When she made no objection he continued on both sides of her body for about five minutes. He could not help noting how her breasts quivered and twitched uncontrollably during this action.
Finally he raised his head and winked discreetly. "There's no charge for this service, Miss Forster," he observed. "That's just a little tip I'm throwing in gratis!"
She swallowed hard. "Well...." she breathed, "I-I certainly am very grateful for your advice, Mr. Edwards. But tell me something-what did you mean when you said that one deodorant is no longer considered sufficient?"
"Oh well," Miles replied offhandedly, "I'm sure you're acquainted with the fact that special vaginal deodorants are now on the market. Do you mind telling me which one you use?"
The woman's face flamed scarlet as she said, "Oh-I-I don't use any! I don't see the need for it. I mean, they're mostly designed for women who have boyfriends. I mean, I never-" And she broke off in rosy confusion.
Miles assumed an air of unbelief. "Oh come now, Miss Forster," he exclaimed, "I can't believe you don't-have a boyfriend. You mean you don't have as many as you'd like! But since you're not using a deodorant, I will recommend one. Please remove your panties so I can investigate your vaginal area."
Her mouth dropped open. "You mean-you mean-"
"Well of course," Miles explained blandly, "it is necessary for me to actually smell you down there. And to examine you for evidence of moisture. Otherwise, I'd have to proceed on guesswork. Would you want that?"
Stunned, she murmured, "Oh no, no-I wouldn't want that." She gulped, skinned out of her panties and dropped them on the floor.
Miles dropped to his knees. He ran his hands lightly up and down the inner surfaces of her thighs several times, then reported, "Yes, you're quite moist here, Miss Forster. But that's not necessarily a handicap. Now we come to the critical part-" And with this he began to probe her pussy with the tip of his nose. Very delicately and cautiously at first, then with increasing boldness. He ran his nose lightly over her pussy lips, then commenced to ease them aside as he intruded deeper ... deeper . ... Oh God, yes, it was moist in here! Moist and fragrant! With supreme gentleness he exhaled his ardent breath over her virginally sensitive cunt tissue, taking care not to bruise or to be too boldly insistent. Further inside he penetrated ... further ... now he was masturbating her clitoris with the bridge of his nose while he exhaled a titillating stream of breath over the surrounding tissues.
He felt her body go nearly limp. At the same time with unerring womanly instinct she jutted, her hips forward, relaxing her pussy lips so that he might go as deep as he liked. Simultaneously a gush of sweet muskily scented fluid began to emanate from within, running down over Miles' upper Up and soaking his mouth. He sipped it as one sips a fine liqueur....
Good God, this was becoming too much! He hadn't planned it this way at all. He only had intended to stimulate the woman a bit, make her conscious of her feminimity so she'd take a few beauty treatments, let Miss Steele handle her grooming requirements. That was all!
He tore his face away from the creamy abundance of her yielding snatch. "I-I'd recommend your using our Vaginal Deodorant X-19," he said in desperately matter-of-fact tones. "It will also help control the flow of moisture. You are very, very wet between the legs."
Miss Forster had a strange transfixed look on her face. A new light gleamed in her eyes faintly, then with increasing intensity as she said, "Thank you, Mr. Edwards. While we're on the subject, there is one other thing I've often wondered about. May-may I speak freely?"
"Of course, Miss Forster."
"How about my backside? Would-would I be too bold if I asked you to see if I needed anything down there?"
"I'm very glad to hear you mention that, Miss Forster!" he said. "Many women are too bashful to discuss that portion of the anatomy. And yet I always feel that I have short changed a patron unless I give her what I call an 'ass analysis!' I hope I don't shock you by using a term like that."
"Oh no! Please-please use any words you feel are apropos, Mr. Edwards. If you want to say ass or anything else, do so by all means!" He . could see her blush again as she spoke. Clearly the use of such language was an adventure for her.
"All right," he continued authoritatively, "I think you'll be pleased by the thoroughness of my analysis." First he allowed his hands to glide lightly, lovingly over her buttocks. "Yes," he said, "most women do not realize how strongly the male is attracted to the rear portion of the body. Now you, Miss Forster, have a lovely, firm, solid ass that most women would be proud of. Eventually you may have a problem with sagging so I would advise you using the same skin-tightening cream that you'll be applying to your breasts. But as of now you have a behind that you should definitely make the most of. You should wear garments that will make these luscious curves stand out. When you are entertaining in your home wear short skirts and bend over casually at strategic moments in order to display your treasures to the man of your choice.
"I strongly advise against pantyhose for a woman of your special endowments. Instead wear the briefest possible bikini panties-just substantial enough to soak up your natural juices. Wear tinted hose to match your dress and garters along with a garter belt. Men are much more attentive to these matters than you suppose! That way, when you bend over a coffee table you'll present your gentleman friend not only with a breathtaking view of your marvelously fleshed ass, but also with a vision of your upper thighs as well, rather brazenly displayed over the tops of your tinted stockings. Do you understand what I mean?"
By now Miss Forster had turned the fiery glowing color of a boiled lobster but she did not flinch from the adventurous situation in which she suddenly found herself. "Yes," she murmured, "I-I think I do. But if I do make a display of my a-ass and thrust it enticingly into a man's face as you suggest, doesn't this mean I have to use some sort of doedorant between my buttocks? I mean, don't I run the risk of offending if I shove a smelly crack underneath a gentleman's nose?" He could see she had all she could do to declare herself with such boldness!
"I was just coming to that," Miles said easily. "This is all part of what I mean by my 'ass analysis!'" He dropped to his knees, cupped her asscheeks in his hand and gently spread them. Then, impudently inserting his nose deep within the crack, he made it plow the damp hairy ravine up and down, up and down, hungrily inhaling the confusion of rich, exotic odors. He heard her gasp. She bent forward slightly to allow him even greater penetration. He took advantage of her willingness to ream the tip of his nose as far up her asshole as was physically possible, titillating and stimulating the firm elastic tissue tenderly but insistently. Then with a suddeness that made her moan with ill-concealed disappointment, he withdrew it and said, "Your smell is not offensive, Miss Forster. But if you felt you needed some sort of drying, deodorizing agent there, we have a very gentle preparation we call Agent A-41."
She turned slowly and faced him. Her face was a perfect mask of erotic agony. "I-I have a further question," she stammered. "As you said, I do tend to get very wet between the legs. Look at me now-my vagina is simply dripping! My thighs are soaked with juice and I'm soppy around the ass too. Now-now suppose I were entertaining a gentleman friend in private and I just happened by accident to let him see the condition of my crotch-let's say that I just happened to forget to wear my panties that evening-well, I was wondering-"
She seemed unable to speak further so Miles said, "Yes?"
"-I was wondering if the gentleman might feel it was in order to-to do what you did before when you saw I was sweating under the armpits ... and remove the excess liquid on my thighs and around my crotch with his tongue ... so it wouldn't stain my dress...."
"Of course!" Miles assured her. Now, very reverently, he began to lick at her legs, starting at the knees and gradually working upward. Oh God, her juices had an intoxicating quality that made his cock twitch and thrash about in his pants like a maddened snake! Upward ... upward ... now her glorious thatch of crisp pussy hair loomed only an inch from his lips. He commenced to mouth it, to draw the delectable strands of piss-scented hair into his mouth and chew like an exotic candy.
Finally his tongue delved thirstily into the holy of holies-the pink gaping female slit itself. Miss Forster stood with her trembling legs well apart, her pelvis thrust forward, moaning slightly as Miles commenced to suck and lap at the custardy goodness that flowed so generously from the innermost fountainhead of her femininity. Totally oblivious of consequences, he imbibed her richness with a smacking, slurpy sound that was punctuated by gurgles of sheer delight.
Then when he had thoroughly laved her in front, he inserted himself between her legs and made his tongue journey repeatedly through the brushy cleft of her moist narrow asscrack.
"Oh God, oh God," Miss Forster commenced to groan, "I-I never dreamed that men could do such nice things for a woman. When I think of the years I've wasted! I thought that the only way a man could kiss a woman was on the lips. Mr. Edwards, you may not believe it but I do have a boyfriend-he's the arithmetic teacher in the local high school back home. I-oh, oh, what's that you're sticking up my asshole? Is it your tongue? Oh yes, stick it in as far as you can! Like-like I was saying, the first thing I'm going to do when I get back home is to make him suck the sweat from my pussy! Then I'm going to make him treat my asshole like it was my mouth. The fool! I'll make him pay for all those years of sitting on the sofa holding hands while we drank tea. I'm going to bend over and stick my ass in his face and say-Harold, tell me nice things about my behind! Tell me how cute it looks ... how nice it smells ... tell me how nice my asshole is shaped and what a pretty color it has! And then he's going to kiss it and kiss it and kiss it...."
At length Miles had to give up. His tongue was a slab of numb powerless flesh when he finally withdrew his face from Miss Forster's palpitating crotch. She looked around at him. "Oh!" she cried disappointedly, "are you finished already? That was very nice, what you just did for me, Mr. Edwards. I won't forget it, you can be sure of that. Now, are there any other aspects of good grooming in which you'd like to instruct me?"
"Well...." Miles mumbled, "I do have one additional suggestion. Many fastidious women like to keep themselves shaved between the legs and around the vagina. You'll find it makes it easier to keep yourself clean and sweet smelling in that area...."
"Oh," Miss Forster cried. A pleased expression stole over her features. "I think that's an excellent idea! Would you shave me down there? Would you, Mr. Edwards?"
"Of course, Miss Forster," Miles replied, still panting from his exertions. "That's what I'm here for." He went to the cabinet and took out a can of self-foaming shaving cream, the type that automatically comes hot from the can. Then once more kneeling before the woman, he expelled a generous gob of the hot lather onto her mound of pussy hairs and began to work it into the pubic area.
A dazed look came over Miss Forster's face. "That's right," she murmured, "work it in good there. Put lots of lather between my legs and smear it hard. Oh, and I want you to shave me between the cheeks of my ass too so put lots there. Yes, Mr. Edwards, massage it in! Don't you think I should have more on my pussy? Better too much than too little-"
Miles emptied half the can of lather between her legs and began to massage it into her thighs, all over her ass, into every crack and crevice he could find. Driven by some unerring instinct, Miss Forster gradually sank to the floor and drawing her knees up to her chin, opened her crotch to him, spreading it like a trayful of rich, whipped cream top pastry. As Miles thrust his fingers deep into her snatch, simultaneously caressing her lather-bathed ass, thighs, and belly with the other hand, Miss Forster began to drool in sheer delight. Foam bubbled from her lips as she mumbled, "Deeper ... deeper. Stick your whole hand inside me. Stick your whole arm in if you want to. Oh, Mr. Edwards, the next time I come here we'll spend hours just doing this, nothing else!"
Driven by the ever tightening coil of her aroused frenzy, her head commenced to whip back and forth while her eyes goggled, unseeing. Spit flew from her mouth. It was clear to Miles that the woman had never undergone anything like this in the past and quite literally did not know what to do. Although she was experiencing the closest thing to heaven between her legs she wanted something more ... her mouth pouted and grimaced. Suddenly she uncoiled and while Miles still made his sopping, slippery hand invade her innermost recesses, her face dived to his crotch and her mouth nuzzled the bulging fabric of his pants.
She moaned pitifully. To Miles she seemed like a wild creature of the forest, one of those soft cuddly cubs that are born blind and in the first few moments after birth blindly seek the tit that will bring them needed sustenance. So too her mouth groped blindly for the tit or nozzle or outlet that would slake her thirst and satisfy the deep primal yearning within her.
Gaping and snapping her mouth roamed over his pants crotch, nudging the source of life within, desperately, blindly seeking a way inside. Dreading to see Miss Forster in this condition, Miles flipped open his zipper and let the great warm mound of his genitals well forth. Immediately the hungry mouth closed over the tip of his cock and began to suck contentedly, the very picture of the infant that has finally found its mother's tit.
"Um," she moaned, "mm!" Miles continued to ransack the treasure house of her body with his fingers. While one hand prodded and stimulated her pussy, another foam slick hand was busy at her asshole, tickling it, reaming it, fucking its virginal cavern, exploring the depths his tongue could never hope to penetrate.
He could feel her body tightening-the thrilling agony of orgasm was beginning. He made his bold hand plunder her honey hole like an invading army on the move. At the same time he felt the ravishing effects of her loving mouth on his squirming dick. He could feel his semen start to simmer and boil inside his own bag of goodies. It was the first time he had ever had a virgin cock on his mouth and the knowledge that in a few seconds his hot seed would spill torrentially into Miss Forster's surprised mouth multiplied his pleasure manyfold.
Both their bodies jerked and thrashed in the spasms of orgasm at the same moment. As the woman drove her pussy against his wedged fingers with all her force, he attempted to drive his pile driving prick halfway down her gullet. In their ecstasy they knocked over a table full of cosmetic jars and the wild flying shaving foam soon made the rug look like a white capped, storm tossed sea!
When their fury was finally spent they lay there for a time. Then Miss Forster dazedly removed Miles' prick from her mouth. She squeezed the tip and extruded a drop of sperm onto her finger tip. She regarded it curiously for a moment, then said passionately, "Oh, this is the first time I've ever seen a man's semen. It-it looks something like snot, doesn't it? Oh Mr. Edwards, let me suck some more of the snot from your dick!" And she voraciously applied her lips to his cock once more!
When she had drained his cock of every last lingering drop she lay back contentedly on the rug and said, "Well, we never did get around to shaving me, did we?"
"No," Miles replied. "I can still do it if you like."
"No ... no," she murmured, "let's leave that for the next time I come here, all right?"
She reflected a moment, then said, "I've just been thinking-I may not go back to my home town for a good long time. There-there are so many interesting things to do right here in New York! And such interesting men to do them with!"
When she had gone Miss Steele summoned Miles to her office. Smiling, she said, "Well, everything seems to have gone well with Miss Forster, hasn't it? She's pl-edged herself to my complete program and paid in advance! What did you do to bring her around so fast?"
"I simply convinced her that she has a basic fascination for men and that it's a shame to let a careless appearance detract from her fascination."
"Umm ... I'll admit she looked about a thousand percent better when she left than she did on arrival. In fact, I would have characterized her as 'dead on arrival!' Care to tell me how you injected the spark of life into her?"
"Let's just say I injected it!"
Miss Steele smiled sardonically. "Was it an injection in the hips or an oral injection?" she asked.
"I've forgotten," he said offhandedly. "But she pointedly remarked on the fact that there was no pain associated with it!"
CHAPTER EIGHT
SWEET WET DREAMS
Miles had an arduous day. As it was drawing to a close it suddenly occurred to him how nice it would be to spend the evening with Evelyn-if she was still talking to him! She had seemed rather cool at their last parting and he wondered why. Was it because she expected him to push matters a bit faster? She seemed like such a wholesome, unsophisticated person-hardly the type who would want sex on the first or second date. But you never knew! At any rate, he was becoming seriously interested in her and didn't want to spoil matters by any premature moves.
Actually Evelyn had forgotten her initial irritation at Miles' slowness. Although it was tremendously more difficult for her to restrain herself than it was for him, she was resigned to gritting her teeth and simply waiting for him to make the first move. Suppose he had a genuine romantic interest in her! Wouldn't that be absolute heaven? Sitting at home that evening, her eyes closed as she relaxed after a day of fixing up the new apartment she visualized herself married to Miles: the wedding night when she would pretend shyness and conceal her ardor, but slyly persuading him to ream her again and again all throughout the night and perhaps well into the next morning! ... the succeeding nights when they would gradually become bolder and bolder in their lovemaking, less inhibited....
Evelyn's hand stole between her legs as she visualized the night when at last she would take Miles' cock in her mouth and suck him while he applied his strong virile tongue to her cunt. That would be the night when she would drop her mask and entice him into making love all night. It would be the night when his mouth and tongue learned the true taste of her innermost being ... when he would suck and swallow her long hoarded juices ... when his cock would learn the width and depth of her asshole ... and when her ass would open like a blossoming flower to his invasive prick to hold it and embrace it for as long as he cared to knock at her back door!
Evelyn had her second session with Dr. Rogers that morning. This time he had begun to explore the psychology of her nymphomania. He explained there would have to be many more such sessions. In the meantime however, he was prescribing drugs that would lessen her sexual appetite-or so he hoped. As he explained, there was never any certainty in these matters. What might work for one person could fail for another.
She had filled the prescription at the druggist's and taken the pills as directed. But no results so far. Sitting in her lonely apartment she found herself wishing that a stranger would knock at the door-it didn't matter who or whether he was old or young, ugly or attractive-just so long as he had a stiff rod that she could lure into her itching vagina.
Therefore when the phone rang and she heard the sound of Miles' voice, she was beside herself with happiness. She listened carefully as he explained that he had just earned some bonus money that day and would like to splurge a little. Would she care to take in an evening at a night club or discotheque? She discouraged him firmly. "If you've earned some bonus money, you should put it aside for your business," she informed him. "I have a much better idea. Why don't you come over and let me cook you some dinner? I think that would be much pleasanter than sitting in a smoky nightclub."
Miles protested weakly, but soon gave in. He showed up at Evelyn's apartment about an hour later with a bottle of good red wine. They sat for a time over martinis, then Evelyn excused herself to put the finishing touches on her dinner.
They had a quiet but enjoyable evening. At about eleven o'clock they decided to go out for a walk, window shopping along Madison Avenue. They walked for about half an hour then returned to Evelyn's place. She made some coffee, then Miles excused himself. Evelyn was thrilled to see that he was gradually becoming more passionate. When he kissed her goodnight he held her very close. She could feel his stiff dick warm and throbbing against her groin and as he dropped his hands from her shoulders he then accidentally-or really perhaps not so very accidentally-allowed his palms to glide along the sides of her tits, lingering there just a second or two. Yes, it really looked as if she were making progress.
Miles too was happy with the way things were progressing. Each date with Evelyn was a new link in a chain that he believed was drawing them ever more tightly together. When he arrived home he undressed and showered immediately. As he slid between the sheets, he thought, Wow-am I ready for a solid snooze! This has been some day. ... He never really finished the thought because sleep claimed him with all the suddeness and force of a fast breaking wave.
It was still dark when he awoke. He had been conscious for a long time of hanging in a kind of halfway world between waking and dreaming. He had a nightmarish dream that his bed was becoming shorter and shorter ... that he could not escape from it and would finally be squeezed to death. At last he started fully awake. For a few moments he felt only relief that his experience was only a dream. Then it dawned on him that something was definitely wrong. The bed did seem shorter!
Miles leaped out of bed, switched on the light and stared at the bed. There was a kind of mound near the footboard. With a startled exclamation Miles flung the covers off the bed and stood tensed to meet any emergency!
When Miles saw what had alarmed him so he relaxed with an explosive sigh of relief. And at the same time he could not help smiling. There, curled up in an incredibly tiny bundle at the foot of the bed was Gail! She was completely naked. Still sound asleep, she was snoring lightly.
Miles shook her gently by the shoulder. "Gail!" he said. She did not stir. Miles shook her somewhat more vigorously and called her name louder. She continued to snore on. At last he poked a tiny tit and exclaimed, "Gail, wake up! It's me-Miles!"
Gail opened one eye and stared up at him uncomprehending. Then she smiled shyly and said, "I wondered how long it would take you to realize I was here."
Miles tried to sound severe as he asked, "How did you get in here, Gail?"
She pouted scornfully. "That lock of yours wouldn't keep out a fly," she informed him. "All I needed was a little piece of celluloid."
He sighed. "You'll have to go," he declared.
This made Gail sit up in a hurry. "Why?" she asked miserably. "Why?"
And try as he might, Miles honestly couldn't think of a reason why. "Okay," he said at last. "You can stay. I'm not going to get myself worked up by arguing with you. I need all the sleep I can get."
Miles switched off the light again and crawled back in bed. Gail took his dick in her hand. He slapped it away gently. "If you're going to stay in bed with me," he declared, "you're going to have to be very, very quiet. I told you I needed my sleep."
"All right," she said soberly. Miles drifted off again into deepest slumber. Sometime later-he had no way of knowing exactly when for it was still pitch black outside-he re-emerged slowly into lethargic consciousness. Something was happening beneath the sheet-something sweet, something luxurious, something deeply satisfying. He was dimly aware that a warm wet little mouth had fastened itself on his cock and that his entire dick was being massaged by a tiny tongue. There was nothing frenzied or wild about it-just the gentlest of sucking sensations.
Miles lay still. In time he relapsed into slumber again, then re-awakened to feel a delightful oozing between his legs. His semen was being drawn from him in a long, delicious streaming that seemed to have no end. On and on it went. ... Gail must have taken the head of his cock halfway down her gullet because he could feel her throat muscles constricting on it. Then sleep overtook him again.
He never heard an alarm. The next thing he knew the sun was streaming into the room and Gail was thrusting a plate of something delicious under his nose. "What-who-" he began. Then he remembered everything. He struggled to sit up. Gail plopped a tray with orange juice, fried bacon and scrambled eggs onto his lap. "I hope it's what you like," she said wistfully.
Miles was ravenous and the food was very good. "I didn't know you could cook," he declared.
"I can do a little bit of everything," Gail stated. Still naked as the day she was born she curled up in an easy chair. "You're not mad about me breaking in like this, are you?" she asked anxiously.
He shook his head. "No," he mumbled with a full mouth, "I'm not mad and I'm not glad. Hey, did you have breakfast?"
"Yeah, I had a bite before you got up."
As he finished the last of the scrambled eggs, Miles asked, "Why did you do this, Gail? Why did you feel you had to break in like this?"
She shrugged. "Because I'm a horny bitch. What else?" she said. "I wanted your cock between my legs and figured this was the best way to get it. And I don't deny I was looking for a chance to suck you off, too. After you screwed me the other night I got to thinking: Miles was so nice to me-he kissed my ass and licked my asshole and everything. I wonder what his dick tastes like? Now I know."
"And how does it taste?" Miles asked mischievously.
"Like vanilla syrup," she informed him shyly. "And it's so hot! I never dreamed a man's scum was so hot!"
"Am I the first fellow you ever frenched?" Miles asked curiously. He really knew very little about Gail's background-where she came from, what she did for a living, or anything else.
"You're the first fellow I ever actually sucked off all the way," she said. "Once when I was hitchhiking in from California a man picked me up in his car and tried to get fresh with me. I gave him a good fight and finally he decided it wasn't worth the effort. He said he'd stop bothering me if I would jerk him off. So I did.
Then while I sat there with my hand covered with his scum he said he wouldn't start the car again till I'd licked all of it off my fingers. I argued with him for half an hour before I finally gave in. By that time it was cold and sticky and horrible. But yours is hot and delicious. I'd suck you off any time you let me, Miles."
"Thanks!" he laughed. "I'll keep that in mind."
"How about some coffee?" she asked, getting to her feet.
"Great!" Gail poured him a steaming cup and placed sugar and cream on the tray. Then she said, "Well, I guess I'd better get dressed and go."
Somewhat surprised, Miles murmured, "You don't have to go yet, Gail." The girl looked rather uncomfortable as she said, "Yes, I think I'd better. I have a job as an office temporary and they'll be mad if I show up too late." As she spoke she slipped a pair of sandles on her feet. Another moment and she had donned the dress she had flung aside so casually to the floor sometime during the night. Then she asked, "Can I use your bathroom? If I wait one second longer I'm going to piss all over your floor. And I know you wouldn't want that!"
"It's just off the living room," he told her.
It was not until she had actually left the bedroom that Miles began to feel uneasy. There was something strange here ... why should she feel this compulsion to leave? It wasn't like her at all.
The more he thought about it, the more suspicious he became. Was it possible she had taken something and was bent on leaving before he discovered it? He leaped from his bed and checked his wallet. Everything seemed to be there. Funny....
Then his eye strayed to the top of his bureau. There, behind the leather box he used for his cufflinks and other personal knickknacks was a huge wad of bills. Fives and tens. A lot of them.
Not quite believing his eyes, Miles did a fast count of the bills. There was about a hundred and eightly dollars there on top of the bureau.
Miles heard Gail emerge from the bathroom. She called out, "G'bye, Miles! I'll be seeing you!" Then he heard her unlock the apartment door.
"Aren't you going to kiss me goodbye?" he cried, trying to keep his concern from showing in his voice. A moment later she reappeared at the door to the bedroom. "Oh sure!" she laughed. Then she saw the wad of money in his hand and the laughter went out of her face.
"What's this?" Miles asked, thrusting the fistful of cash under her nose. "You put this on my bureau, didn't you?"
She opened her mouth. He knew she was going to lie. But when she saw the look in his eyes she said in a low voice, "Yes, I put it there."
"Where did you get it? I know you don't earn this kind of money. I know you don't save. So where did you get it?"
She looked down at his shoes and remained silent. "I said," he insisted, "where did you get it?"
When she finally spoke her voice was as thin as the faraway chirping of a tiny bird. "I spread my legs for it," she said.
"You spread-you mean you actually really prostituted yourself for it? Gail, how could you do a thing like that? Don't you know the danger you were exposing yourself to? Don't you remember what happened the last time you tried a stunt like that?"
"I don't care. Nothing like that happened this time."
"Why did you do it? And why did you try to leave the money here?"
She shifted nervously and averted her eyes from his face as she replied, "You said you needed money. For your business. And you said the sooner you had it the quicker we could go off to Bermuda or someplace like that and have-well, like a honeymoon."
Miles felt like crying. Extending the wad of money he said quite matter-of-factly, "I can't take this, Gail. I thank you for it but I couldn't accept this in a million years."
Gail looked at the money. Then she looked up at Miles. Her face was a study of resentment and perplexity. "Why not?" she cried, her voice rising, "why the fuck not?"
"Because I don't need it that badly. I'm sorry if there's been a misunderstanding-"
"What the fuck do you mean, 'misunderstanding!'" Gail struck his hand away and the bills flew in a dozen different directions before settling on the carpet. "You motherfucker! I try to do you a favor and this is the thanks I get. Keep the money! Throw it down the toilet if you like! But don't expect me to come crawling to you any more. I've had it with you, Miles! Bastard! Motherfucker!"
Her voice was trembling and her eyes were wet with tears as she shouted the final words. Then she turned and disappeared with amazing speed. Miles ran to the door and shouted, "Gail! Gail!" But she had bypassed the elevator. He heard the sharp angry rattle of her steps in the stairwell. Then silence.
Miles sighed a deep despairing sigh as he turned back into his bedroom. Slowly he picked up the bills and stacked them neatly in a cashbox he kept hidden beneath some trash in the closet. He didn't know what he'd do with it. He certainly had no intention of keeping it. But some day ... somehow ... he'd find a way of returning it to Gail. Poor kid, he thought. Poor, crazy little kid! He just imagined her going about the streets ... inviting men up to her room ... or going up to theirs ... stripping off her dress and flopping on the bed. Lying there while they ran their greasy sweating hands over her little body. The men hardly able to believe their good fortune in discovering a pretty, under-age teenager who would actually fuck for them. What a hell of a way to accumulate a few dollars!
He sat on the edge of the bed for a long time just shaking his head in dismay. Then he pulled himself together, shaved, dressed, and went off to his job.
CHAPTER NINE
KEN COMES AT LAST
Evelyn set about making herself ready for the evening. She had a date with Miles so she bathed, powdered herself all over and dressed with unusual care. Evelyn could detect unmistakable signs of increasing ardor in Miles-perhaps tonight he would actually assert himself. Maybe Evelyn's dream would come true!
Evelyn had prepared a little cold supper. They ate, then went to a French movie that had received rave reviews in the papers. As they sat in the darkened theatre, Evelyn held Miles' hand in hers, cradling it in her lap his fingertips downward just barely touching her thigh at the borderline of her sensitive vaginal area. It was maddening to have his hand so close to her wet yearning honey hole yet be unable to urge him further.
Afterwards she invited him up for a drink. As they sat thigh against thigh on the sofa, Miles' arm quickly stole about her shoulder. She leaned her cheek against his and they exchanged a kiss. They kissed for a long time. Finally Miles' hand dropped to her knee. Gradually, by infinitesimal degrees it began to work its way under her dress. Now it was midway between knee and crotch. Now it was at her stocking top. Now on the bare flesh between stocking top and panty. Only very gradually, very lightly, did it finally come to rest on the moist little triangle of white nylon between her legs.
Evelyn spread her legs wide and uttered a deep heart felt sigh. "Oh darling," Miles whispered in her ear, "you-you don't know how often I've wanted to do this. I've wanted to caress and kiss you over your entire body so many times! This may be premature, Evelyn, but I think I fell in love with you that first evening when that scoundrel insulted you in the bar and we went up to your place afterwards."
Evelyn gripped the hand that still curved around her shoulder. She smiled to lend him encouragement. "The only thing is," he went on, "I'm wary of plunging into-well, physical intimacy! A hand on the knee leads to a hand on the thigh and then-you can see where I've got it now! And that of course leads right to sexual intercourse. I won't deny I'd like to have you right now, Evelyn. If you want me, that is. The only thing is, a person with my condition has to be careful-"
A cold pang struck through Evelyn. She turned sharply and asked, "Condition? What condition?"
Miles smiled apologetically. "I saw no reason to mention it before," he said, "but I have a slight heart condition. Not enough to keep me from being active but when it comes to sex I have to be careful not to overdo it. Evelyn...." he went on, embracing her closer, Evelyn stood up abruptly. Holding her voice in tight rein so as not to betray her emotion, she said, "I need another drink. How about you?" She went to the sideboard and kept her face carefully averted while she made another pair of Scotches on the rocks. When she rejoined Miles on the sofa she curled up in such a way as to discourage an embrace.
Miles looked pained and embarrassed. "Evelyn," he said, "have I said something wrong? Have I done something I shouldn't have? If so, I'm sorry."
She shook her head. "Oh, it isn't that you've done anything specific," she declared lightly. "I-I just began to be afraid we were going too far. Let's take it easy for a while, all right? After all, to talk of physical intimacy and love and all that after only a few dates is kind of-well, immature! Isn't it?" She quickly turned the conversation to other topics.
They talked painfully about inconsequential matters for another half hour or so, then Miles stood up. "I think I'd better say goodnight now, Evelyn," he said. "There is something wrong, isn't there?"
"Not at all!" she declared, trying to sound bouyant. "The only thing is, Miles, I've been going to a doctor myself. I too have a certain-condition. It's different from yours. I'd prefer not to talk about it."
"I see. When will I see you again?"
"That depends, Miles. Depends on how successful the doctor is in treating my condition."
"Shall I phone you?"
"Better let me phone you, Miles." They shook hands awkwardly and said goodnight.
Miles was angry as he left the apartment house. Angry and puzzled. Damn! You never knew about women. You just never knew! Just when he thought he had found the ideal girl-wham! It blew up in his face. And why? Why?
Miles was so angry he thought it might be a good idea to let off steam by walking home. He hadn't covered more than a few blocks however, before a thought hit him-Gail! He had tried to see her the previous night. Ever since that morning when she had stormed out of his apartment he had felt guilty and unhappy about her. He had wanted to see her and apologize and somehow ge on the right footing with the youngster. God-when a girl goes out on the street and sells her ass for you, you certainly owe her something. More than the money she turned over to you. A little matter of love besides.
The previous evening Miles had gone around to the tenement in which Gail lived and rung her doorbell for half an hour. There had been no answer. That didn't mean a thing. Tonight Miles was determined to force matters. He took the first cab than came along and told him to head downtown. When the driver let him off at the shabby building on the edge of Chinatown Miles didn't bother to ring. He ran up the four flights of stairs and pushed open the door to Gail's room without knocking.
She was there. She sat at a table clad only in flimsy panties. Her head rested on the table next to a nearly empty bottle of wine. She had obviously been sitting there for a very long time; it was also obvious that she had wet her pants several times over.
She did not stir when Miles entered. He approached her fearfully-she could be dead. Anything could have happened to her, living alone like this in a dangerous neighborhood. He shook her by the shoulder. She opened her eyes and stared at him blearily. Her voice was hoarse with rotgut alcohol as she said thickly, "Miles-I knew you'd come."
He lifted her in his arms and bore her to the bed. "Don't touch me, Miles," she protested softly. "I'm dirty. And I'm sick. And I'm crazy, besides." Miles lay down beside her on the bed fully clothed and held her tiny body in his arms the whole night long.
Evelyn did not sleep at all that night. She walked up and down in her living room trying to make some sense of her life. I've killed one man, she reproached herself. I'm not going to kill another. Sure, it might not happen tomorrow. If Miles and I became intimate it might not even happen this year or the next. But eventually....
And those dreadful images of Dean's funeral, the black clad mourners, the heavy scent of the flowers-all swarmed back into her mind. No, that was not to happen again!
Wasn't it bad luck that her treatments under Dr. Rogers' care had not progressed further! Why couldn't she have met Miles when her sexual cravings had diminished enough to be controllable? Why did she have to encounter him her very first night in New York? Had she done the right thing by expressing her dismay so openly? Why couldn't she have strung him along a little while longer until she at least knew how serious his heart ailment was?
But she knew that would be asking for trouble. That very evening, with his fingertips pressing lightly on her pussy through the fabric of her panties she had very nearly been at the point of ripping off her underwear, wrapping her legs around Miles' hips and blurting, "Fuck me blind, Miles! Never mind about tomorrow. I want it now. I want it hard. I want it good. And I want it steady."
No, no. ... God, life's decisions were hard!
Evelyn suffered through two weeks of tantalizing indecision in this way. Three times a week she saw Dr. Rogers. She begged him to do anything in his power to expedite her treatments. Cost was beside the point. The main thing was to dampen this fire between her legs.
At the end of the second week however, she knew she could not suffer on this way, suspended midway between heaven and hell. One evening, her mind boiling in a ferment of confused, conflicting desires and emotions, she dialed Miles' phone number. There was no answer. That was at eight o'clock. Every half hour thereafter until one in the morning she continued to phone him without result.
Next day she decided to phone him at the salon. She hated to call him away from his work but she had to speak to him, she had to make everything all right without further delay. However, the girl at the switchboard said after a moment's pause, "I'm sorry, Madame, but Miles Edwards is no longer employed here."
Astonished, Evelyn inquired, "Oh? Could you tell me where he's currently employed then?"
"I'm afraid not," the girl replied. "He's left to open his own business, I understand. Miss Steele won't allow me to give out any more information than that. I'm very sorry."
Evelyn felt decidedly uneasy as she hung up. Miles no longer at the salon ... he might have phoned at least to tell her that much. But she'd specifically forbade him to call! Oh well, she'd reach him tonight at his apartment. He had to be home some time.
But he wasn't. And this time she dialed continuously until two in the morning.
Finally Evelyn slammed the phone down in a fit of exasperation. The inference was plain. Miles had shacked up with someone! He hadn't been home in two nights and she knew he didn't travel on business. He certainly hadn't lost any time finding a new girlfriend, had he? Well, he could just go to hell! She didn't care.
But as she tossed in bed she realized that she did care. She cared very much. She tried phoning him every night for a week without success. At the end of that time she reluctantly gave up. These things happened in a city the size of New York, she told herself. It was very easy to form a chance acquaintance. And it was just as easy to fade into the woodwork, to be lost from sight in a single day, to be swallowed up, voluntarily or involuntarily without a single trace. Without an address, without a phone number, or an acquaintance to pass along a message.
Evelyn's life revolved in pretty much the same pattern for the next six weeks. She visited Dr. Rogers three times a week. One day Dr. Rogers asked her, "Tell me, Mrs. Joslin-have you been getting any sex lately?"
Evelyn looked at him startled. "Why no!" she replied. "I haven't had much opportunity, frankly. The fellow I was going with seems to have vanished into thin air and I just haven't had the heart to go looking for someone else. To be perfectly honest, doctor, I've been making rather free use of my vibrator. I find it gives me a certain release without the complications that follow from picking someone up in a bar or at a dance or resort."
The physician shook his head. "To be perfectly truthful, I would advise a certain amount of honest to goodness sexual intercourse. You see, I've been able by the use of drugs to pretty much alleviate the physical causes of your nymphomania. But by starving yourself of sex, you are creating a psychological craving. It's like a person who has been denied his favorite food over a long period of time. He doesn't actually need the food-he craves it because he hasn't been getting it. It's the same way with you now. If you had sex two or three times a week you'd probably find it was enough for you and you wouldn't go on to demand it two or three times a day the way you used to."
"I see," Evelyn said thoughtfully. "Then you feel your treatments have been largely successful." Dr. Rogers said he believed they had and she need only come once a week in the future.
Evelyn went home and thought about this. She was inclined to agree with the doctor. If she were to have sex a couple of times a week it would be enough to take the edge off the keen physical craving she still felt. But with whom? Oh God, if she only hadn't let Miles escape her....
At that moment her doorbell rang. Who could that be? She put the door on the chain and cautiously opened it a crack.
It was Ken! Her son, Ken!
"For heaven's sake, why didn't you tell me you were coming?" she cried. She let him in. He appeared to have grown a fraction of an inch and to appear even more mature than when she had left him over two months before.
Ken dropped his suitcase on the floor. He looked tired, dusty and bedraggled. "Why didn't you write or phone me you were coming?"
Evelyn exclaimed. "I could have met you at the airport!"
Ken glanced at her sardonically. "I didn't fly," he informed her. "I came by bus. I've been sitting on that bus for two days. My rear end feels like it's been worn down to the bone!"
"The bus!" Evelyn cried unbelievingly. "You could have flown. I would have sent you the money."
He shook his head. "I just wanted to get away from that old home town as fast as possible. That whole bit with Uncle Al and Aunt Judy developed into a bad scene-I mean a really bad scene! There was no time to send to you for money or anything. I had the money in my pocket for the bus fare and a couple of hamburgers on the way. That was enough. I split."
"You must be starving," Evelyn declared. "Sit down, I'll fix you a nice meal and you can tell me all about it."
As Ken ate, he gradually told his mother the entire story.
CHAPTER TEN
FILLING EVERY HOLE
"Well, when I first moved in to live with Uncle Al and Aunt Judy, I thought-this is the life! They didn't give me anything to do in the way of chores around the house, Uncle Al was just full of laughs, and Aunt Judy was always giving me money to go to the movies and making sweet desserts and special foods she knew I liked. They really made me feel at home!"
"How did you get on with the two girls, Crystal and Jennifer?" his mother wanted to know. "The two daughters must be pretty well grown by now, aren't they?"
Ken grimaced. "Crystal is pretty well grown-wow!" he exclaimed. "I guess she must be seventeen by now and if she ever gets any more stacked they'll have to pass a law against it! I mean she's got a pair of boobs that always look like they're on the point of tearing through the seams of whatever dress she's wearing. Not that she wears much in the way of clothes. Two handkerchiefs stitched together is more like it!
"Ma, I'm not going to exaggerate. Crystal made a play for me right from the first day I arrived on the premises. The first evening we all had dinner together I was sitting next to Crystal at the table. She had her hand beneath the tablecloth all the time, feeling of my dick, pinching it through my pants, squeezing it so hard that finally I came right there in front of everybody. I tried not to show it so maybe they didn't notice. Then she sat there pinching the head of my cock, making all my sperm run out till my pants were just soaked!
"Well, Ma, I have to admit I'm human and it was only a couple of days before she spread her legs for me and I dove right in. It was nice, I enjoyed it, I can't deny that. But after I'd had it a couple of times with her it lost most of its excitement. It's hard to describe-she's like some kind of sex machine and you don't feel there's a real person there."
"Well, heavens, I don't know," Evelyn said uncomfortably. "I suppose if the girl wanted it as badly as you say she did, I shouldn't reprimand you. But you are a trifle young for that sort of thing, Ken. Do you mean to say you've been having intercourse with Crystal constantly since I sent you to live with Uncle Al?"
"No," Ken declared, "after a while we kind of tapered off. I guess she could feel I wasn't as hot for her as she was for me and her feelings kind of got hurt. One day when I was minding my own business she walked into my room and said, 'You can kiss my ass, Ken Joslin. I'm not going to beg you for attention, you know! I've got lots of fellows who'd give everything they have to fuck me for ten minutes. From now on if you want your rocks hauled you can get Jeff ifer to do it!' Then she stormed out.
"Why should she say a thing like that?" Evelyn asked curiously. "Why should she mention her sister in that connection?"
Ken's expression clearly revealed his disgust. "That was to show how she looks down on Jennifer," he declared. "I guess you remember that Jeffifer has this paralyzed arm, don't you?"
"Oh yes, the poor thing! I do recall it now."
"Right. And she limps a little too-she's affected all along one side. Well, she's just the opposite of Crystal. You wouldn't believe that they could be sisters. Like I said, Crystal really looks down on Jennifer and so does the rest of the family. It was very obvious, I noticed it right from the start. They'd snatch the food right from under her nose at the dinner table. They never listened to her when she talked. They never bought her any new clothes-she always had to wear Crystal's hand me downs.
"I've got to admit I was attracted to Jennifer right away, but I could never get her in a conversation. It was almost like she was scared. She slunk around like a whipped dog. And there was another funny thing too. She was never at home during the day. She always left with Uncle Al when he went out in the morning and came back with him at night. They said she was helping him in that tailor shop he has over on Morrow Street in the poor section of town.
"I asked her a couple of times what she did to help her father. Did she keep records? Did she help with the deliveries? Did she put the clothes in the machines? I never got much of an answer. One morning when I was riding through that part of town on my bicycle I decided to surprise Uncle Al and drop in at the shop. I was a little curious to see what he had there.
"Well, Ma, he didn't act at all happy about it. He seemed to want to shuffle me out of the place as fast as possible-said he was busy. Well, he didn't look that busy to me. When I asked where Jennifer was he stuttered awhile and finally said she was delivering some garments. The whole thing looked fishy to me, Ma, and I was glad to get out of there ... the atmosphere was so uncomfortable.
"That night I went out for a while and when I returned I parked my bike in the garage and came in the back way. Nobody knew I was there, and brother!-did I get an earful! Uncle Al and Jennifer were upstairs and he was hitting her-I could hear her holler. I heard him curse and say, 'You lousy little cripple! I'll teach you to get sick on me right in the middle of the day when I need you most!' Then he hit her again and started making fun of the way she walks. She does have this pathetic way of dragging her leg-like I said, she seems to be affected all along one side of her body.
"Well, my blood started to boil and I wanted to run upstairs and tear into Uncle Al-even if he is your sister's husband, he has no right to treat a little girl that way! But then the commotion stopped. So I slammed the screen door and made out like I had just come in and hadn't heard a thing.
"The next morning I went out again and hung around the tailor shop ... about half a block up the street where Uncle Al couldn't see me. I had some idea that if Jennifer was making deliveries I could help her. I never saw her go in or out.
"I made up my mind I was going to see what really went on in that shop-particularly in the back of the building where Uncle Al has a lot of space you can't see from the front of the store. I went around to the other side of the block; they're tearing buildings down behind the store. I'm sure Uncle Al doesn't realize you can get back there.
"You see, there's a rear window in the back of his shop. And now that they're tearing those buildings down you can worm your way into a kind of courtyard and see what's happening inside. I went there and spent several hours looking. You could hear everything too because the window is part way open.
"I saw Jennifer right away. She was sitting on the edge of a filthy dirty old bed and all she was wearing was a short dress that hardly came down to her ass. I no sooner started watching than I saw a door open and a guy came in from the front of the store. He was about fifty years old and well dressed. He said, 'Are you the young lady I have an appointment with?' And Jennifer said, 'You don't see anybody else back here, do you?'
"Right then and there she stripped bare ass in front of the guy, Ma! He took off his pants and shorts but left the rest of his clothes on. When he saw Jennifer all naked he got this funny kind of glazed look in his eye-as if she was the answer to his fondest dreams! I'll admit she looked-well, sensual. In the first place, standing there all naked she looked even younger than she is-you'd think she was about twelve. Especially since she has these really tiny little titties and she's so thin! And she has this white smooth skin just like a child's.
"I thought the old guy would sock it to her right away but he didn't. He made her sit on the bed and he started to feel up her arm-the one that's paralyzed, and her leg that's a little thinner than the other one. Jennifer let him do it for a while, then she said, 'It gives you pleasure to fuck a paralyzed girl, doesn't it? That's the reason you came here-because I'm deformed. Isn't that right?'
"I thought the old guy would be insulted but he wasn't. He just looked her straight in the face and said, 'Yeah, that's right. That's how I get my kicks! Do you have any friends like yourself? Do you know any girls that have had an arm or a leg amputated? I'll pay good money to screw a girl like that. I'll pay you a commission if you can lead me to one."
"But Jennifer only said, 'Come on, mister, did you come here for a feel or a fuck? I don't enjoy being treated like a piece of meat on a butcher's hook!' She flopped back on the bed and sort of patted her pussy and said, 'I'll let you put my paralyzed fingers in your mouth so you can chew and suck on them while you plow me. Some guys like that. If it'll make you come faster, I'll do it."
"Well, Ma, you won't believe this, but the guy was so anxious to get at Jennifer when he heard her say that that he nearly broke a leg getting into bed with her! I won't go into a lot of details about what they did together because you know that as well as I do. But he sure gave her some pounding!
"After he left a regular stream of guys came in that door. Old ones, young ones, white ones, black ones-you name it, every size, shape and description. Uncle Al's shop is located right near a couple of big factories and there are also a lot of little businesses in that area. Guys were coming in for a quick screw on their coffee break. Some came in on their lunch hour.
"And not all of them wanted to be fucked, you can be sure of that. I heard one guy ask her, 'Is it true what Al says-if I give you an extra two dollars you'll swallow my scum when you french me?' She told him, yes. And she did too. He made her get down on her knees and suck him off. After he'd shot his load and let most of it drain out, he forced her to open her mouth so he could be sure she'd swallowed his come and wasn't going to spit it out later.
"A lot of men were like that-they paid extra to have her swallow that glop. Not all of them were like that though. Some just wanted to get their rocks off and then beat it. Between noon and two o'clock she had so many customers she hardly had time to breathe-and practically all of them were blow jobs. I mean, by one o'clock she had scum dribbling from the side of her mouth; she had it smeared all over her face from guys that lost control at the last minute and came outside her mouth. It was dripping off the ends of her titties and her hands were all sticky with the stuff!
"Like I said, she got all kinds that day. There were even a couple of queers that didn't have any intention of screwing. They just wanted to humiliate a girl-any girl. They made her he down on the floor and then they stood over her and jerked off onto her. They seemed to get the biggest charge in the world from watching their greasy yellow sperm run out the ends of their dicks and splashing onto her body and face.
"But there were plenty who wanted it the regular way and they paid to be allowed to come twice. And there were several deformed guys that I guess felt more comfortable sticking it into a chick that was a little bit like themselves. But I noticed they treated her meaner than anybody else.
"A little after two o'clock Uncle Al came into the back room where she was for the first time. He gave her a cheese sandwich in a paper bag and a container of coffee. She looked at her lunch and said, 'One thing's sure-I'll never get fat on that.' And he looked at her real surly like and said, 'You damn well better not get fat-guys won't pay to stick it into a fat girl.' Then she asked, 'Why is it always me that has to flop down in this smelly hole day after day?
Why don't you send Crystal down here and let them fuck the shit out of her for a change?'
"Well, when she said that, I thought Uncle Al was going to pop his cork for sure. He hit Jennifer right across the mouth and said real snarly like, 'Don't you dare talk about your sister like that! Crystal will make a good marriage one of these days! She'll marry a fine business or professional man. I'm keeping her clean for that. But you-you ugly little cripple! I'll have you on my back for the rest of my days. Who'd ever want to marry you? That's why you've gotta earn a few bucks while you're still young enough to draw the customers!'
"He went out then. Jennifer sat on the bed and cried. After a while another customer came in that wanted an around the world job and she had to take care of him. But about four o'clock the prize freak of them all walked in. You gotta picture the scene, Ma-here Jennifer's been lying on her back the whole day. Except for the blow jobs she's just been taking one cock into her pussy after another, hour after hour. By four o'clock so many guys have shot their loads into her she's lost count. And she's been so busy she hasn't had time to even wipe herself off!
"Now all of a sudden this real creepy looking guy-thin and spidery and pimples all over his face-comes in and wants to suck her pussy. She looked at him like he'd lost his mind. 'Do you know what you're buying?' she asked him. 'I must have about a pint of scum stored in my snatch,' she tells him. 'If you want a nice clean pussy to suck, come in tomorrow morning around nine o'clock. It'll taste nice and it'll smell nice."
"But the guy shook his head real determined like and said, 'No, now's when I want it. I just want to suck and suck at your scummy little pussy. And the more juice you've got in there, the better I'll like it!' So she just shrugged and said, 'Help yourself!' She spread her legs and stood there while the guy put his lips to her hole and drained her absolutely dry. Did you ever hear anything so freaky in all your life?
"Well Ma, I thought about what I'd seen all that night and part of the next day. And all of a sudden it dawned on me: little Jennifer is supporting that entire household! Uncle Al doesn't really work. That so called tailor shop of his is nothing but a blind. Aunt Judy just keeps house. Crystal doesn't do a thing to support herself. I suddenly realized-every bite of food we put in our mouths-the roof over our heads-the little presents Aunt Judy brought me now and then-all that came from poor crippled little Jennifer spreading her legs on a scum soaked cot in a stinking room behind the tailor shop. It was like every time she shook her ass a silver dollar rolled out!
"I'm not perfect, Ma, but I've got to admit that was too much for me! I left them a note saying thanks for everything but I was heading east. I got the next bus out of town. And here I am."
Evelyn had listened gravely to the entire recital. "You did the right thing, Ken," she said. "We've got to do some thinking and see if there isn't some way we can help Jennifer. But in the meantime I'm glad you're here. You can sleep on the sofa-it opens up into a bed. Let's unpack your stuff."
Although Evelyn was overjoyed to have Ken back with her, in a way there was another aspect to his arrival that gave her distinct worries. If she were to go ahead with her plans to find a steady sexual partner she would be unable to bring the man home. She would have to keep her visits to Dr. Rogers a secret as well. She could imagine all kinds of complications.
She was horrified to hear what use her sister's husband had been making of poor Jennifer. But at the same time she had to admit that the story definitely excited her. She could imagine herself in the youngster's place, receiving cock after cock into her pussy, into her mouth, up the rear ... caressing the men's dicks ... tonguing their assholes ... and receiving the same from them in return!
CHAPTER ELEVEN
UP YOURS WITH A SEXPILL
By nine o'clock that evening Evelyn was ready to climb the walls. She needed one of Dr. Rogers' sex-tranquillizing pills. As she started toward the bathroom it suddenly dawned on her-she had taken the last one that morning! That meant a trip to the druggist. It was annoying having to go out but there was no help for it.
When she handed the bottle to the druggist and asked him to renew the prescription he shook his head sadly. "They're not making this stuff anymore, lady," he declared. "The company ran into some kind of trouble with the government and they stopped shipping. I'm sold out but if you feel you have to have it, I know a druggist down on Twenty-eighth Street that might have a few bottles. You'll have to hurry though, he closes in half an hour."
Evelyn sped to the subway. She couldn't wait till tomorrow-she had to have those pills tonight or heaven alone knew what disaster she was liable to bring down on herself! And with Ken on the premises-this was no time to lose control.
The train came along almost immediately.
But shortly after it pulled out of Grand Central things started to go wrong. First the lights dimmed. The train stopped, started, ran a few yards, then stopped again. Then the lights went out. Everyone just sat there in the total blackness of the underground tunnel and waited. Usually these things were corrected in a minute or two. But that night the train just stood there, seemingly locked to the rails.
Damn! Damn! Evelyn thought. I'll never get to that druggist before closing time! It was very hot down there in the tunnel because the fans had gone out along with the electric lights. And it was getting hotter. Evelyn's face was bathed in perspiration. Her armpits were streaming with sweat. Her thighs were so soaked with moisture that her dress literally clung to them as if it were painted on.
To add to the discomfort she had to stand. The car was jam-packed with people. Apparently there had been trouble on the line for the entire previous hour and this was the first train to come along in a long time. The sweating bodies were packed in so closely that if one person had fainted he could not have fallen to the floor.
It was only gradually that Evelyn became aware of the fact that the man directly behind her had an erection. Not that I can blame him, she thought, smiling to herself in the pitch blackness. The way we're all packed in here, hip to hip, crotch to crotch, ass to ass, it wouldn't surprise me one bit if at least one man didn't take out his dick and take advantage of his anonymity to excite himself against the nearest female. After all, who'd ever know unless the lights came on suddenly! And all this close contact does invite intimacy. A person would have to be made of stone not to respond at least a little to the situation.
Speaking of stone ... God! What a hard cock that man had! Evelyn gulped and began to tremble. Did she dare? Heavens, this was ridiculous, to think of doing such a thing in a crowded subway! And yet ... oh, when she wiggled her ass it felt so good to have his stony hard cock there to rub it against. Even through the fabric of his pants and the thin cotton of her dress.
Her dress ... why let that interfere? Slowly, so none of the passengers jammed in at her sides could guess what she was up to, she raised her dress above hip level and commenced to mash her sweaty bare buttocks directly into the man's groin. She could feel his cock twitch of its own accord inside his garments. Neither she nor the man had spoken a word yet each seemed to guess the other's thoughts.
Having gone this far, Evelyn lost all sense of restraint. Working very carefully, very subtly, she reached in back of her with one hand and unzipped the man's fly. Whoever he was, he was obviously no tramp. As she groped about trying to find the zipper, Evelyn's hand came into prolonged contact with his trousers and his jacket-it seemed to be a sports jacket judging from the metal buttons on it. Both garments were of a fine fabric that felt expensive to touch.
Having unzipped him, she tremblingly touched his cock-it flew out of his pants spontaneously and embedded its head in the rich moist crevice of Evelyn's ass crack!
Oh God, it's like a gift from heaven, she murmured to herself. Straight out of the blue! Evelyn was very easy to penetrate from behind. Several years ago when her poor deceased husband had hinted his desire to bugger her on a regular basis, she had taken extraordinary steps to please him. She had cut six inches from the end of a broom handle and after lubricating it well had stuck it up her behind and left it there, day after day, for several weeks. She removed it only at night and at other necessary times. She had never told Dean about this. Eventually he began to comment on how easy it was to sodomize her "without using a sledge hammer to get in," as he phrased it. She had teased him, hinting that his dick was shrinking and that eventually he'd have to use a dildo to please her at all!
Her asshole had remained permanently widened. Now she took advantage of the fact. There in the dark steamy box of the subway car with dozens of people around her, she fitted the stranger's anonymous cock tip into the dilated portal of her ass and wiggled his backside as an invitation for him to thrust it deeper. This he did.
Slowly, slowly the stranger scooped his massive up-curving cock into the juicily oozing tunnel of her ass cavern. Up ... up ... then, when he had penetrated so far that she felt his balls tightly squashed against her buttocks, he began to make his prick perform a little jiggling dance inside her. There were no powerful thrusts, only this titillating vibration. It jarred her, tickled her, excited her. She bent her knees as much as she dared and thrust her ass more pertly in a saucy invitation for him to ream her with all the energy he could summon.
But he only continued to make the head of his cock tremble and shiver far within the forbidden depths of her guts. And at the same time she could feel an orgasmic excitement starting to tingle. It was entirely unlike anything she had ever known with Dean. Dean's method had always been to slop plenty of lubricant over his dong, then to ream it in hard, smashing his cock up her ass with all the fury he could command, relying on brutal friction to awaken a perverse excitement within her bowels that quickly brought on an orgasm and left her exhausted but satisfied.
The stranger's way was to coax her asshole into dropping its defenses little by little, to relax, to enjoy this mutual adventure with an intruding cock in the sublime secrecy of Evelyn's innermost flesh.
She could feel him coming now! She could feel the spasmic contractions of the warm rigid rod. At the same moment, she allowed herself to climax. Dear God, she wanted to scream as the ramrodding cock flung its delicious burden of hot creamy juice halfway up to her tonsils and her asshole seized tenderly yet insistently on the bold rod as if reluctant to relinquish it ever.
Evelyn moaned softly to herself as the man stood there, at rest now, his copious come slowly seeping down around his dick and gradually flooding down.
At that moment a low thrumming sounded through the subway car. It was a sign that power was being restored and that the lights might go on at any moment. Hastily, Evelyn withdrew her juice-dripping ass from the rod that still impaled her and settled her clothing about her hips. Then, elbowing her way through the close pressed irritable throng, she made her way along the car. She would get out at the next stop since it was already too late for her to pick up the pills. And she did not want to be standing anywhere near the stranger when the lights came back on.
The train moved forward with a jerk, stopped, then jerked forward again. At that moment the lights flickered on. It was less than a minute later when the train pulled into the Thirty-fourth Street station. As Evelyn moved to alight, she cast one fleeting glance behind her to see if she could discern who it was in the crowd that seemed to be wearing an expensive sports jacket with metal buttons.
She saw him just as she stepped across the threshold onto the platform. It was a good looking young man, tall, with brown hair ... Good God in heaven-it was Miles!
The man who had fucked her up the ass was Miles!
The impatient crowd swept Evelyn along the platform, the doors slammed on the car and the train moved along.
Evelyn found a secluded place to stand and think. Her knees were trembling. Everything had happened so fast she could hardly collect her wits! She had found Miles again ... they had enjoyed the most intimate contact two human beings can ever experience together ... and she had lost him again!
As Evelyn made her way home, she did not know whether to relish those few minutes of ecstasy on the train or to allow her mind to dwell uselessly on the opportunity that had slipped through her fingers with such maddening ease.
What a terrible lesson this had been! If only she hadn't allowed herself to yield quite so readily to lust. If only she had stood there quietly in the train like a normal, civilized human being. When the lights had come back on she would have blinked around as one customarily does at such moments. She would very likely have caught sight of Miles-or he would have caught sight of her. She could have invited him up for a drink. They could have started all over again.
Or perhaps he had recognized her! Perhaps he had seen her some time before the lights went out and ignored her. Perhaps he had seized on the heaven sent opportunity to plow her up the can when she so hastily raised her skirts for him. Maybe he was still laughing at the whole thing while scorning her for a cheap, common, low down bitch!
When she got home she remarked to Ken, "I'm going to bed right away. What a dreadful experience I just had! No ... no ... I don't want to talk about it!" She went directly into the bathroom and took a much needed shower. While she was still toweling herself Ken came to the door of the bathroom and said, "I wanted to tell you-you had a phone call not more than ten seconds after you went out before."
"Who was it?" Evelyn asked as she ran the towel vigorously between her buttocks.
"Some guy. I think his name is Miles somebody or other. I wrote it down. It's by the-"
Evelyn flung the bathroom door open. "Miles?" she cried incredulously. "Miles phoned?"
"Why ... yes!" Ken replied, turning a deep red. Except for that night a couple of months ago when he had caught her crouching before the television set, he had never seen her stark naked. The sight upset him. Her nakedness apparently troubled Evelyn not one little bit-she had other things on her mind!
She raced to the phone. "Did he give you a number where he could be reached?" she queried him. "Why, yes-" Ken began.
At that moment the phone rang. Evelyn snatched it up. "Why-why Miles!" she cried. "This is a surprise! Heavens, you've been quite a stranger lately. Of course I'd like to see you. Um ... no, I hadn't forgotten you, I assure you I hadn't. Where are you calling from? The comer booth? Certainly, come right up!"
Evelyn's smile was radiant as she hung up. "I'm having company for a little while," she told Ken. "A very fine gentleman. I'm so glad you can meet him! The only thing is...." she went on hesitantly, " ... after you've chatted with him a few minutes, perhaps you could find an excuse to leave us alone for a while. Maybe you could say you're going out to get the early paper. I-I have a lot of things I want to discuss with Miles."
"Okay, sure," Ken said. Evelyn remained sitting there on the sofa, her hand still on the phone, a smile on her lips as she meditated. "There's only one thing, Ma...." Ken said uncertainly.
"What's that, dear?" she asked, looking up.
"Aren't you going to get dressed?" he asked. Evelyn looked down at herself in shocked horror. "Oh dear, yes!" she cried, a deep blush spreading over her face and breasts. "Excuse me-I don't know how I could have been so careless!" She rose hastily and went into the bedroom. She finished attiring herself just as the doorbell rang.
Evelyn welcomed Miles with a firm handshake and a glowing smile. She introduced Ken. True to his promise, the boy left after a couple of minutes. When they were alone, Miles told the full story of what had occurred since the last time he and Evelyn had spoken. And quite a story it was!
CHAPTER TWELVE
BACK IN THE SADDLE AGAIN
First of all he informed Evelyn that he had left Miss Steele to go into business for himself-that much she already knew. Then with some embarrassment he reminded Evelyn of the subject that had parted them on that unlucky evening weeks before-his heart condition.
"Well dear, I wanted to tell you that's one thing that needn't cause us any worry in the future," he declared eagerly. "That's all been taken care of!"
"Taken care of! How?"
Miles related how, only a few days after their last meeting, he had felt faint and had gone immediately to the doctor. He thought the strain of setting up his new salon was telling on him. After making a thorough examination, the physician had informed him that unless the large artery leading to his heart was operated on immediately, he stood a good chance of seriously impairing his heart permanently. And he had made arrangements for Miles to enter the hospital right on the spot!
"It really wasn't all that big a deal," Miles declared with a negligent smile. "It's really quite a simple operation. They just cut out the bad artery-mine was under-sized, not diseased-and stuck in a hunk of plastic tubing. The only thing is, it leaves you weak for some time afterwards."
Evelyn was, of course, overjoyed at the way things were turning out. She was a bit nonplussed though when Miles asked her, "You mentioned having some kind of condition yourself, dear. How is that coming along? Is it still dangerous?"
She had never, of course, informed him as to the exact nature of her "condition!" She took his hand and smiled as she replied, "It's still dangerous, Miles. But not serious!" And she refused to explain just what she meant by that.
She and Miles met again the following evening. And the evening after that. At the end of the week he had proposed and she had accepted.
Evelyn and Miles decided that under the circumstances, a modest wedding and a short, three day honeymoon at a not too expensive resort would be advisable. They were married in a quiet ceremony in a nondenominational chapel and enplaned immediately afterwards for Nassau. Arriving just as dusk was falling, they freshened up, had a champagne dinner in the hotel dining room, then retired immediately afterwards to their room.
Once in bed they spent a long time just kissing, fondling and nuzzling one another in the traditional fashion of honeymoon couples. Eventually Evelyn could sense Miles' impatience. She could feel his throbbing joystick lurching implacably toward the promised land of her hot drooling pussy.
At this point she decided to have a little fun with him. "Oh dear!" she exclaimed suddenly. "I-I'm afraid I'm going to have to disappoint you tonight, Miles!"
"Why? What's the matter?" he asked, leaning over her concernedly.
"Oh, it's my period," she declared with a show of exasperation. "The excitement of the wedding and all has brought my period on early. So I'm afraid we won't be able to have sex tonight. Do you mind awfully, dearest?"
"Oh no, of course not, dear," he said quickly. But the disappointment was very evident in his voice.
Evelyn patted his cheek, then said, "Oh dear, I'm exhausted. I believe I'll just doze off for a while...." During their preliminary lovemaking, Evelyn's nightdress had crept high above her hips. In the warmth of the Caribbean night the covering sheet had long since been flung over the foot of the bed. Now, as Evelyn pretended to seek slumber, she artfully turned her back on Miles. In the moonlight, her great, uncovered ass globes gleamed like beacons-summoning, beckoning, challenging! Her asshole dilated like a great, pinkish brown blossom.
She waited, hardly daring to breathe. Would he seize the opportunity? Would he take the bait? Would he show himself as bold and enterprising as she hoped? She contracted her hole, then made it blossom again.
Evelyn could sense Miles' body rigid in the bed alongside hers. For several minutes he seemed to hover behind her undecided as to his next move. Then, slowly, she felt him take her tits lightly in his hands while the soft, firm head of his cock nudged her buttocks. Then his dick began to slide ever so gently within the hot, juicy tunnel where there was never a period, never a wrong time of the month.
