My assignment for this documentary was originally to search out the reasons why young, attractive, well-educated women gravitate toward older men. Recently, major magazines have been publishing innocuous articles about the incongruous marriages between young women and old men. Therefore, through talks with my publisher, it was concluded that an in-depth search for information was in order. The result would be a lengthy documentary concerned with the sexual habits of the disparate pair.
Being a former newspaper reporter, I brought with me the tools and techniques of reporting. I had my proverbial pen and paper in hand with the added strength of a Craig 212 tape recorder and mile after mile of recording tape. That was the easy part. The difficulty arose in trying to first find a couple that was separated by at least thirty years in age, and even more challenging, attempt to persuade them to discuss their problems.
I found a couple and when I approached them at a cocktail party about the idea, they flatly said no. A good reporter is never thwarted by a negative answer for if he were, he would never get a story. He might met some facts and figures by skirting the edges of a story, but unless he can get to the main characters himself, his story will never be complete.
Money buys a lot of things in life, including free access into a house, especially if the maid needs some spending money. And Nettie (not her real name, only one I've chosen at random to fit her character and personality) needed money. She was a strange woman with a mischievous glint in her eye-a glint that told me I was on to something more than just a young wife and an old husband, paired up for whatever reason.
I told Nettie what I was doing, that I wouldn't use any real names, and that I was only interested in her employers from a research point-of-view. I also peeled off a sizable stack of five-dollar bills.
Nettie allowed me to hook up my recorder in their bedroom and I instructed her on its use. The setup was perfect since one of Nettie's duties was to make sure the bedroom was prepared before the couple went to sleep-or said they were going to sleep. Nettie made me agree that she could preview the tapes before I took them. I agreed, without much choice. She also told me about her tremendous expenses and the risk she was taking. Reluctantly, I pulled out another stack of bills and greased her palm. She wouldn't take a check, naturally.
I met Nettie twice a week when the couple was away, when the wife (whom I have named Nala) and the husband (whom I have named Arthur) were respectively at the hair-dresser and the business office. Nettie and I sat drinking coffee and listening to the tapes. I've been around quite a bit, and the tapes made me blush, while Nettie just sat stoically, smoking a cigarette and looking listlessly into space. She seemed to be relishing every vulgarity that Nala used. Nala was the most foul-mouthed woman I had ever heard and even I, being used to intruding on people's privacy, felt as if I were trespassing improperly.
We continued the clandestine meetings like CIA agents and each time, Nettie seemed to enjoy my reactions to the tapes more than she did the transcripts themselves. I was sure she had listened to them prior to our meetings, for she would shift knowingly in her chair and look at me with anticipation just before Nala blasted a volley of vulgarities at her wheezing husband during sexual intercourse. When the tape finished, Nettie would calmly extend her greedy hand and my diminishing roll of greenbacks transferred from my hand to hers.
Because I felt there was something more to the story than just the tapes and the young-old couple's bizarre sexual habits, I began to interview Nettie. I knew that if I were to let her know what I was doing, she would sap me of all my expense money, so I purchased an inexpensive but small tape recorder and taped it to the small of my back, hooking the microphone up my sleeve and hoping that Nettie wouldn't see it.
I pumped Nettie and she talked freely. Her mind was as disjointed as her mistress's mouth. She began to ramble on and on about the couple, telling me about what they did and how they did it.
Then she began to talk about the book, telling me how she and her mistress sat on the bed reading it. She repeated the lines from the book by memory, and I sat entranced, listening to every word. She either had an eidetic memory, or she had read and fantasized the scenes so much that they came out as if she were reading them verbatim. Her story was so chronological, so descriptive, I almost bolted from the house to transcribe it all to paper.
Nettie and I continued on for another two weeks. At each meeting, she became more and more intent about telling me her story about her fantasy lover. No longer did she ask for money or smoke cigarettes, she just joined one scene to the next like a grand eloquent Toastmaster relating and award-winning speech. She seemed to stretch out the tale, wanting to keep me there as a vehicle for the whole history of her fantasy. I was sure I could pull my recorder out and set it in front of her and she would never blink an eye for she was mesmerized by the mnemonic tale, orating like the ancients bards before the enthralled youths of ancient Greece.
Finally, she came to the end of her story, and sadly looked at me, her eyes misty, sad, dejected-as if her life had been snuffed out. She seemed to lament the fact that she had only told it and not lived it.
I felt sorry for Nettie as I left, for I knew she was a very lonely woman.
Now came the production of my story. No longer did I have just a story about a young woman and an older man. I had three stories. I had the tapes of Nala and Arthur Acerton and of course, the lengthy, exciting story-within-a-story of Nettie.
I juggled the transcripts around and found I had three separate entities-I had three tongues of sex.
The first tongue belonged jointly to Nala and Arthur. Their sexual talk composed the first of the three parts.
Then I had the story of Nala and Nettie lying on the bed, reading the fantasy stories together, performing the oral arts of love between reality and the twilight zone of fiction. That was the interview of love, abandoned, illicit love, between maid and mistress. That was Nettie talking freely into the phallic-shaped microphone of the tape recorder.
The third tongue of sex became the printed page of a book. It was the tongue of the novel that wormed its way into Nettie's mind and bored through to her psyche, making the fantasy of a lover vividly real.
There was no question about it. I had three fascinating stories about sex-one from factual, unedited tapes-one from an interview with a maid-and the third from the maid's "Walter Mitty" mind.
I worked up the copy and submitted it-and now I introduce perhaps the most interesting research that I have ever stumbled across THE THREE TONGUES OF SEX.
R.M.D.
------
First Tongue of Sex-A Recording
CHAPTER ONE
CASE HISTORY ... Source-investigator's tapes, files, news items and interviews.
Subject ... Nala Acerton nee Navala Age ... 22
Height ... 5'5" Weight ... 128 Measurements ... 36-21-35 Eyes ... hazel Dress ... modish Education ... business college Recreation ... acrobatic dancing Occupation ... bank clerk and part-time aerobatic dancer (before marriage)
Income ... unlimited account from Mr. Acerton Remarks ... subject is physically alluring. Lithe figure ... thin lips ... sexy walk. Comes across as a sexually insatiable sweet sixteen.
Brief on subject's psychotic symptoms: pronounced addiction to EROTOLALIA. Source: sexologist-author interview, supported by the investigator's filed reports plus the dialogue and sound effects obtained from the secretly taped goings-on in the Acerton bedroom. These latter will leave little doubt in the mind of the reader as to Nala Acerton's psychotic addiction to the use of EROTOLALIA or lewd, obscene language. To what degree Nala's love for lewd words was an inadvertent factor in hastening her husband's demise will probably never be determined. She would have used verbal obscenity in any event. She used lewd words to arouse herself sexually-they were, in effect, her oral aphrodisiacs. Of course, as will be seen, she wanted her outpourings to affect her husband sexually, too. She wanted any results that would hurry the day when her lust for his money would be satisfied.
Nala's reliance on erotolalia becomes apparent very quickly on the tapes. No sooner does the couple enter the bedroom than she begins spewing obscenities, spraying the place with a quick sexual atmosphere that dissolves the day's extraneous activities and prepares her (and presumably her husband) for, as she habitually puts it, "a fucking good time!"
This is not to say that Nala made it easy for her aged husband to have intercourse with her. On the contrary, she fought him off, playing, of course, but nonetheless brought enough force into the match to make the old man pant with exertion.
He was sparsely built and she could overpower him with her youth and vitality. This she often did, giggling and mouthing intimate obscenities as she forcibly removed his clothes while remaining fully clothed herself. As the intensity of the 'play' increased, the old man echoed her words, repeating them by rote, like a stupid child, even imitating her inflection until their voices come off the tape in what sounds like a weird obscene incantation to all the gods of sensual pleasure.
With the old man undressed, the tapes reveal that Nala invariably turned coy, fighting a slow seductive battle, exhausting the old man with alternate limpness and resistance as he removed her garments, managing, meanwhile, to retreat, putting as much distance as possible between herself and the bed until, at last stripped, she went limp and laid the warm weight of her nude body upon Acerton, demanding that he carry her to the bed.
They always arrived at the sexual work-bench with Acerton fighting for breath ... and her spurring him on with such kittenish lies as, "Oh, darling, you're such a beast! But I love your strength, you old fucker!"
Then without any pause whatsoever to allow Acerton to recoup his strength, she would begin moaning for more attention, calling for his caresses-for deep smothering kisses that again left him fighting for breath.
When the sound of his labored breathing reached stentorian heights she murmured:
"God, Old Daddy, you must be hot-the way you're panting!"
And soon thereafter, judging from the moans and fervent osculation, she had Acerton's lean old body between her sleek, strong thighs, apparently silencing groans of unreadiness with a deft manual insertion of his penis into her vagina.
Then as the sexual act got under way, she invented new lust with erotolalia, building vividly descriptive scenes of their copulation by observing the action in the several mirrors in the room and reporting the highlights back to Acer-ton, who usually responded by becoming incredibly passionate; in other words, he reacted exactly as might be expected if given a potion of aphrodisiacs. It was at these times that he was apparently able to give more than could be comfortably given. It was at these times that Nala cried out (with lush endearments) at his size and old, bone-hard endurance. But it was also now, after extending himself, that he fell away from her when it was oxer, a tell-tale rattle shaking his throat.
Acerton was a splendidly endowed man sexually, even at an advanced age, as one recorded bedroom measuring' session will attest, and had he been in his prime he very well might have given Nala something to make her forget his money purse.
As it developed, there are passages on the tape during which she stammers and exclaims, genuinely awed at the thickness and length of Acerton's penis. At these times the sounds of her kisses are prolonged and of a sucking nature, developing in the mind's eve of the listener a picture of phallic worship-a voluptuous nude bending and kissing a huge erection, drenching it with warm saliva and brushing it with her loose, undone hair.
At this juncture, Acerton can be heard murmuring passionate endearments, addressing her as his SWEET NYMPH or DARLING NYMPHO-Nala's endless rutting and insatiable demands on his virility having, no doubt, brought these female abnormalities to mind.
CHAPTER TWO
Pertinent social item from Acerton's home town newspaper. Date, July 20, 1966
ITEM: Miss Naki Navala, formerly of Giroux City, Iowa, and Arthur Acerton of this city were married by the Reverend James Fundy during an afternoon church ceremony. The bride wore a rich white, full-length tulle bridal gown. She was given away by her uncle, Mr. Theodore Gardner of Los Angeles.
There was a reception at the Acer-ton mansion following the ceremony. Mr. and Mrs. Acerton will take a honeymoon tour of Europe, expecting to spend much of their time in Paris, where Mr. Acerton has many friends in the business and entertainment world.
No mention of Acerton's relatives occurs in this rather succinct announcement because they boycotted the marriage ceremony. As for public reaction, more than a few people were willing to go on record for the local gossip columnist:
"Leisurely honeymoon, they say! It better be! That old duffer must be close to seventy!"
"Wow! Is she built!"
"He's too old for her. It's obscene-THAT kind of marriage!"
"The older the buck the stiffer the horn!"
"Well! He's had plenty of experience. This is the fifth time around!"
"She's after his money! What else?"
CHAPTER THREE
Bedroom Tape Date: September 3, 1966
"I'm going to get a bottle of oxygen for the bedroom-that should help your wind, Old Daddy! Then maybe we won't have to have that shitty window open! Close it! There's a draft here in the shower!"
"Sorry, ma chere! The air in here-the perfume-the-Well, anyway ... There-it's closed! That better?"
"All but the French frills. We're not in Paris now!"
"Wonderful, though, wasn't it? We had good times. A memorable honeymoon!"
"Just a minute, Old Daddy! This honeymoon isn't ready to go down memory lane with your other four-not just yet! You and I haven't even started! So don't go putting everything in the past tense. Say, come in here and wash my playthings!"
"Nala ... Stop putting me on. Playthings indeed!"
"Well-what else are breasts for? As to the other-putting you on-say, you just come here!"
"Christ, Nala-the way you talk!"
"Listen, Old Daddy, out among your doddering old society friends, I'm as society and proper as the next, but in our bedroom I'm a hot slut. You wanted a young piece-you got it! Now you have to go on taking care of me like you did in Paris. You're hung for the job-a real meat-maker. A crotch butcher! Shit, Old Daddy, when you're up, I can't tell you from your cock! How did you find time to make all your money? Four wives-five, counting me-that means a bone-on ... forevermore! It must be all in your head! Or heads! One for making money, the other for making fuckee-I hope! I hope!"
"Well, they used to say-"
"Sure, sure-they used to say! They USED to say! Back in the past tense again! That's an old man for you. Always ruminating! Always going back over what's been!"
"A young woman like you doesn't have anything to go back over!"
"That so? You get me mad enough and I'll spill my whole fucking background. And I mean fucking! What did you take me for-a virgin?"
"I'm not naive, Nala! For chrissakes!"
"All right, then-come and watch me take a shower. You did that in Paris. Hotel de Paris! That place had a piss-poor shower! Hot or cold! Hot or cold! Nothing in between. That's the French for you-nothing in between. Where the hell did they get their reputation?"
"I'm surprised you even remember that cranky shower. It's more like you to recall how you showed off!"
"You must be thinking about how I showed you I could piss faster than it was running!"
"Yes, you were standing up, urinating like a man!"
"I was doing what, Old Daddy."
"Urinating."
"Come again, Old Daddy . "
"Pissing!"
"OK. But actually I thought it was the way I pushed my crotch out and squeezed the lips of my cunny to squirt, that you liked-that you laughed at!"
"Ah, yes-the way you squeezed your CUNNY!"
"Listen, Old Daddy-hear the patter of water on my ass?"
"It has a special sound ... on your ass?"
"Sure-and a s-s-pecial feel. You coming closer to listen?"
"Yes-"
"Well, take off your robe. Take off everything! I might want you to soap my cunny!"
"I won't mind-you've got a nice vagina!"
"Jesus, Old Daddy, you are a sissy! You act like a sissy, talk like a sissy and you'd probably fuck like a sissy ... if I'd let you!"
"All right-cunt!"
"That's right-talk dirty, Old Daddy. You're cute when you do! And it does something for you!"
"What?"
"Why-you're inhibitions go ... phtt! You get a hard-on right away! Haven't you noticed? Look at your dong now! It's hanging out like the clapper on the Liberty Bell! And if you-oh-keep soaping my cunny like that, we're both going to be hotter than hell!"
"I liked what you said one night in Paris-about how a woman could grow a new cherry for a man every time ... if he cultivated her in the right place!"
"O-oh! And you've found it, Old Daddy! You've found it! Run your arm through between my legs, too. Uh-y-es-ss! To the elbow-no, no
-make a fist first. It'll go through, with my thighs soaped the way they are. Uh-y-es-ss! Now back and forth! M-mn! Back and for-TH! I could eat you, Old Daddy! That feels like a horse-cock must feel. I-I knew a carny woman once. She did a stage act with a Shetland pony. She did it this way ... greased her thighs. But once in awhile the pony would get it into her cunny."
"How far?"
"Why shame on you, Old Daddy! You're starting to reach out for the dirty stuff."
"How far? Ten inches?"
"Ten inches! Why, shit, Old Daddy-you've got almost that much ... uh-you're forgetting to keep doing it!"
"What?"
"Back and forth-your arm!"
"OK-and I used to make nine, but now I have to work and strain! Often..."
"Not just often, Old Daddy-damned nearly every time we do it. You start running out of gas just as we're reaching the peak-that beautiful, beautiful peak. You should take something-pep pills! I'm almost ready, Old Daddy! I think you can stop now and I'll rinse off!"
"Aw, let's just play drop the soap and forget about the bed for once!"
"Old Daddy, you couldn't stand up on this shower floor long enough to play dog, and you know it!"
"Well then, let's towel off and go right over to the bed! I don't feel like battling through the imagine pajama routine tonight!"
"I do know a way-a real fun way. I stand against the wall. Here-like this. And you lift me up ... no, higher, so I can get my legs around your waist. That's right! Now let my ass slide down ... more ... more ... until you feel my cunny against the head of your cock. Don't slip, you old fucker! Keep me pressed a little against the wall so you'll have some leverage. How does it feel-is it going to be right?"
"I'm-I'm not sure. We should have turned off the shower-it distracts me!"
"Listen, you cunny-lapper-no alibis. You wanted to do it in the shower-now do it! Oh, all right! There-it's off! Put your arms around my neck and pull yourself up again ... slowly. There! Now down ... U-huh!"
"Gotcha that time, huh, Old Daddy!"
"The head's going in. God, it feels good! It feels so good! Keep on lowering it!"
"Lowering what?"
"It! You know!"
"Goddammit, Old Daddy, you say what you mean or I won't move another inch!"
"Your ass, Darling-lower your ass before my legs give out!"
"There-now fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck me!"
"Uh-u-uh! I'll fuck you ... fuck you ... FUCK YOU!"
"I'm a whore! I love cocking ... long, long cocking!"
"Long cocking, long cocking ... long, long cocking!"
"O-o-ld Da-dee! Hunch me harder! Hunch and grunt."
"I'm about to go."
"O-o-oh no! Not yet!"
"A-a man goes qu-quick ... standing ... tense-no chance to relax!"
"But it isn't even quite all in ... is it?"
"No-let yourself down a little more ... carefully!"
"M-m-m-wait! Stop pumping or you'll go off half-cocked!"
"Your cunt sucks and it's hot and grips and holds on!"
"It holds on? Why do you suppose it does that, Old Daddy?"
"God, I don't know! I don't know! You-you've got some heaven in there between your legs!"
"Heaven, Old Daddy? But you have to die before you go to heaven!"
"Then a-a-ah-Jesus, I'm going to."
"Give it to me, Daddy! Give it to me! N-o-o! You're going to the floor. For crissakes!"
"I couldn't help it-I was going! I slipped!"
"Shi-t-t! Well, stay on your back. It's still hard. I'll put it in, again! Th-e-r-re!"
"You'll bruise your knees against this tile floor ... and it's cold! It's cold on my back!"
"Is that all you can say when you're getting screwed? It's warm in there, isn't it?"
"I'm losing my hard-on!"
"I'll screw you anyhow! I'll fuck the shit out of you."
"Oh."
"What do you mean-'oh'. "
"Nothing."
"All right, sweet Old Daddy. You don't have to talk. Just keep on panting and grunting and trying. Just look at my breasts and think about coming! Feel me! Rub my skin. Put your fingers down in the hair-thick and soft and springy, isn't it? Now pinch the lips together and l-love my cunny. Massage it ... yes ... oh, now I'll make you come! Give it to me! Push! Push up ... HARD! Groan, Old Daddy, Groan! I feel your ooze ... a man never dries up till he's dead, dead, dead! But don't give up now, Old Daddy-not when we're greased and hot. We'll leave it in, in where it's warm. We'll nurse it big again. Don't fret, Old Daddy. And don't CRY, you old man! Feel-I'm pushing down-up-down ... and around, but I'm keeping myself light on you, Old Daddy-just brushing our hair together, tickling the roots.
"Keep your eyes closed, Old Daddy. Don't think about the cold, hard floor-think about me. Here-put your hands up to my breasts. Squeeze the nipples. Th-a-ats it-Here, I'll lean down ... take the nipple ... suck and move it. Feel how it moves! So soft and warm and full. That's a skinful of honey, Old Daddy!
"Pat me, rub me ... till you know I'm lovely. That's right-catch your breath and drag your hands. I make everything lovely-this bathroom, this shiny shower. I heat the tile and decorate the bed. The furniture fabric is a beautiful gold-like the color of my hair. And the moveable mirrors!-everything money can buy ... and I'm the center of it all!"
"You're a bitch, Nala-a femme fatale!"
"You! You and your fucking French!"
"I like it ... French!"
"Now? Old Daddy, you're dirtier than I am in spite of all your imagine talk! That would be like doing it to myself ... by proxy!
"You could wash my cock ... first!"
"W-ell, all right, but don't blame me if you can't get up in the morning!"
* * *
Acerton's first hospitalization. Source-Acer-ton's hometown newspaper. Date: September 5, 1966.
ITEM: Mr. Arthur Aceton was hospitalized with what his doctor termed a severe attack of spinal neuritis. Sedatives were administered sparingly due to Mr. Acerton's heart condition.
Mrs. Acerton was heard to say that the attack was brought on by a swim in the pool. Mrs. Acerton is at her husband's bedside whenever his condition permits, though no other visitors are allowed, other than a few relatives. The restriction is due, the doctor said, to Mr. Acerton's extreme exhaustion.
CHAPTER FOUR
Mountain chalet tape. Date: September 20, 1966
"Nala-why did you insist on coming up here? You knew the caretaker and his wife were away-that I would have to open the place, carry wood, start the fireplaces!"
"Did you mind?"
"Well, no. Only I'm not strong ... yet."
"Exactly! I thought this would be a good place for us to convalesce!"
"For US to convalesce?"
"Sure. After all, Old Daddy, I've been on a two-week sex-starvation diet. I need to get well!
"Doc warned me about undue exercise."
"Oh, he probably meant that you weren't to chop too much wood-and were to stay in bed, you know! Ha ha ha."
"Oh, come on!"
"What about taking care of your wife? Did you ask Doc about that?"
"He never mentioned intercourse. I suppose he assumed-"
"You bet he assumed-assumed you'd do what came naturally! Why, hell, Old Daddy, I think a good piece is just what you need. Don't want your old cock to ossify, do you?"
"All right! So I'm old. Rub it in!"
"Hee-hee. Exactly what I mean to do!"
"Sure, sure! But why way up here? We could be isolated up here for days if we get a blizzard!"
"To hell with worrying. I like the sound of the wind up here. I like the way it goes through the pines, moving the branches against the eaves. And you've got your medicine along. There's plenty of food and whiskey. We've got a radio and TV. And-"
"Humph! Go on-complete the list of my blessings!"
"Me! Me for breakfast! Me for lunch! Me for dinner! Jesus, how I love to do it in front of the fireplace, with the feel of this black bearskin rug! And there's one pillow here that's just right for an ass-jack-"
"Nala ... for crissakes-"
"And I like those mounted wild animal heads grinning down at us. Remember the time we came up here ... before we were married? You were in that same chair, finishing a drink. I was stretched out on the rug just like I'm going to be again in a few minutes, with my dress hiked up over my thighs. The radio was on stereo. I forget what was being played, but it sounded moody and sensuous. I could feel the slow beat of it pricking my skin. I rubbed my thighs together. They felt silky and I enjoyed it. You were watching, leaning forward. I held up my arms. You stood up and I said, "Take off your clothes!'
"And you did. In no time at all we were on this rug, close together, both of us naked. Then I just happened to look towards that door-the one to the caretaker's quarters and I saw him, the young caretaker, complete with big woodcutter's shoulders and knowing leer, standing there staring at us. I'll never know why, I guess it was because we were so 'bare-assed caught' but I winked at him. And do you know what that young bull did?"
"No, but I'll fire him if you're embarrassed by having him around."
"He winked back and just before he turned to go he pulled out his, hee hee, and I'll tell you, Old Daddy, that guy has got one the size of two! It must be a foot long and as thick as a knarled limb!"
"Why didn't you tell me about this at the time?"
"Because you were busy-busy doing your thing, Old Daddy. And if you'd known you would have been embarrassed. Then you wouldn't have been able to make my cunny forget that woodchopper's big limb-splitter!"
"Then why are you telling me, now, when it's all past?"
"Because it isn't past, Old Daddy! I keep remembering the woodchopper. My cunny keeps FEELING that he needs another woman besides his wife, for that plural-sized cock. I don't want to think these things or have a feeling for anyone else. I'm married to YOU! But you'll have to help me, Old Daddy. You'll have to undress me and help me!
"You know what I think? I think you've made all this up. You're whipping the old bull! Ah, Nala-have mercy!"
"Think what you like-but I CAN still see that woodchopper! Here, now, let's get your shirt undone ... and ... then your pants-"
"Christ, Nala, do you need me this bad! Oh, for God's sake, get your face out of my gut! Your tongue feels like a hot snake!"
"But that's what I'm looking for-your snake."
"Wait-can't get my pants off with my shoes on!
"You're shaking and stammering, Old Daddy!"
"I need a drink. Mix me one of your f-fucking specials!"
"One fucking high ball special coming up!"
"And put more wood on the fire!"
"Listen to the orders! Don't you be timid just because you're undressed! YOU put the wood on and ... warm your butt. It's usually as cold as a well-digger's ass!"
"You know, Nala, I feel like a caveman, squatting here in front of the fire ... naked. Ouch! Damn these pine knots!"
"How are you doing otherwise, Old Daddy,"
"What do you mean?"
"Is your fucking cock anemic?"
"No!"
"Let's see!"
"I don't have to ... I can tell you ... it's hard!"
"So the woodchopper thing got to you."
"Bah! Bring the drink."
"Come and get it!"
"None of your trickery! I'm not going to walk across the floor with a hard-on!"
"Oh, shit! Who-likes to rub at my breasts and buttocks when I'm walking around in the nude!"
That's different!"
"So's this going to be different. You'll walk across the floor and meet me halfway or-no drink!"
"Nala-how silly can we get? But-OK!"
"Oo-oh! You really have got a hard-on! Here, put it between my legs. We've got to keep that thing warm!'
(Kiss) "Nala, you're the loveliest--. Your breasts are-" (Kisses-sucking sounds)
"Are what, Old Daddy? My breasts are what?"
"You know-I've told you before!"
"Tell me again!"
"Your breasts are flesh-flowers!"
"And you're a fucking poet! What poesy did you make up for your other wives? Or didn't they have anything to brag about?"
"Every woman possesses some prettiness!"
"You mean they've all got a mouth and two holes!"
"That's obscenely crude, Nala. Doltish. You sound like an inexperienced smart-aleck!"
"Listen to the old shit! Say, if you think I haven't had experiences, come over to the fire and I'll tell you about them!"
"No."
"Why not?"
"You just want to make me jealous!"
"Well, I should hope so! What were you trying to do to me? Come to think of it, you tried some of that on me in Paris-pointing out places where you'd been with this or that woman! What is it, a technique?"
"No-it's a defense mechanism against your flow of erotolalia.
"Eroto-what? Say, you been studying up on sexology or something?"
"No-I picked up some of the terminology from my third wife. She was a nut on sex!"
"Just in the head?"
"Perhaps."
"Well-let's sit on the bearskin rug in front of the fire. I'll tell you about my stag-film lover!"
"I don't like it, Nala-this is turning into a contest. You tell one, I tell one, and between times we knock ourselves out doing it!"
"Speak for yourself, Old Daddy! And now as I was saying, some men offer to show you their apartment, something they have there-etchings, paintings-but mostly they want to show you their bed and what can happen there. Drake had all these things to show and more-films! Hot ones! I saw them all-ten or more-and Drake fucked me once for each film and several times for one in particular, which he showed over and over! It was just a fucking orgy! I'll never forget that one film. I think I fell in love with the male star-"
"He was heavy in the crotch, no doubt!"
"Well ... yes, but put that ass-jack pillow under me and start it in while you're still heavy in the crotch!"
"How about Drake? Was he hung?"
"Drake outdid all the male stars with ... all the females!"
"Including you?"
"Yes-but I was a kind of proxy piece-a stand-in. He did it to me without taking his eyes off the screen!"
"Were there many techniques-variations from the way we're doing it, with me on my knees, putting it in with you on your back?"
"Oh, sure. We used to run several films before deciding on a way! We-are you listening?"
"Not really! Christ, I've got it halfway in!"
"Then you don't care to know?"
"Know what?"
"When you've gone beyond what Drake had!"
"Right ... n-n-now, I couldn't c-care less. T-tell me about it later. M-measure it off in-in inches!"
"You grunt-stutter when you fuck."
"And you get spasms, t-twitches."
"In my cunny, maybe-not in my mouth."
"Your thighs quiver, too."
"Not unless you pat them."
"Ye-yes they do. And your poop-poopee hole winks, too."
"The fireplace makes you look like a redskin, Old Daddy. Why don't you kiss me when you lean forward over me?"
"Because I-I'm pu-pushing-"
"Kiss me and I'll push ... up!"
(drooling kisses)
"Lookee, Old Daddy! See my ass swivel! Ain't I a twist?"
"God, you're lovely, Nala! So ... s-soft and-and smooth and ... you bring it up ... and I ... uh ... g-go IN!"
(moans)
"Oh-O-Oh! You've got a way of making it feel bigger than it is, Old Daddy."
"It-it swells up in there."
"You're getting it in to the uh-uh-UH part."
"S-sh!"
"Pump, you old devil-o-o-oh! Where does it all come from? It doesn't l-o-o-o-k that big!"
"I-I've got a lot of h-hair! Y-you can't see-see the root!"
"No, but I can sure as shit feel it stretch'n my ... cunt and tickle, tickle, tickle!"
"I-I'm-o-uh, DARLING!"
"Wait! Don't go yet! Raise up on your knees and look around! Think about something else for awhile. Let it build! Then you'll go two or three times instead of going off once, half-assed!"
"B-but some of it will come out if I get to my knees ... now!"
"No it won't ... uh-m-m-m-not if I get my ass jacked up with this pillow as you raise u-up ... there! Comfy?"
"Comfy? With the FEELING I-I've got?"
"Forget it-it's only in your cock!"
"That's wha-what yon think! The crazy tickle goes way up my-my spine!"
"Well, stop moving your ass and look around. Count your trophies. Tell me about the lion!"
"It's not a lion-it's a Bengal tiger. I got him through the heart after Velma had wounded him in the gut!"
"Velma?"
"My second wife-remember?"
"Hell of a time to talk about your wives! But go ahead-tell me something intimate about Velma. Tell me something intimate about all your wives!"
"Something intimate?"
"Yes ... some small personal thing-like how often would they fuck."
"I don't think I can."
"You mean they never?"
"I mean I just can't think with you twisting down there!"
"Well, doesn't that remind you of something-doesn't it remind you of a certain FEEL they had?"
"You're rubbing all that out, but I do remember that Virginia had beautiful black hair!
It was so soft and glossy; it grew low on the middle of her forehead."
"What about on her crotch?"
"It was very heavy and straight there. I think she brushed it."
"Brushed it?"
"Yes-it was trained to lie neatly away from the middle."
(giggle) "That's one way to eliminate the piss-cutters!"
"Betty, my first wife, had lovely baby-raising breasts."
"And--? "
"And was sterile!"
"I know you ex's are still living. Do they have any hold on you?"
"No-I made lump sum settlements!"
"But I have a hold on you! Feel it?"
"God, yes! You lovely thing! And I'll give you anything-"
"Then give me THAT lump! Give it to me! Give it to me! Give it to me NOW!"
(Mammary kisses, puddling tongues, dry-weeping, plaints, screams of joy, urgent slaps and fleshy cupping. Wailing throes. An itching, thrusting, twisting rhythm of excited skin textures. The exquisitely flat scrape of tortured pubic hair-keening gasps of pleasure. On and on-man to woman, woman to man-into agonies of ecstasy, into dizzy free-falls ... fits of dying ... pounding the hairy trough, the slit-portal to heaven. Hoarse, humping grunts. All! The God-Almighty All! Screams and screwing. Woman to man: GIVE IT TO ME! GIVE IT TOME!)
"Nala ... I'm ... I'm all ... in!"
"Give it to me! Give it to me!"
"I-I can't. It's soft!"
"Just push-I'll do the rest! Se-e-e! I'm smooth and warm and twisty! You love my thighs-my round, quivery fucking ass!"
(Rustling-writhing-sucking-gasps-slaps-flesh to flesh. Grunts and labored breathing. Sucking.)
"You're coming ... Old Daddy. I fe-e-l you ... so good! So ... good!" (Lunge-like grunts.) "There ... there! THERE."
"Aaaiiieeeoooah!"
Second Tongue Of Sex-An Interview
CHAPTER FIVE
Nettie Spargo-maid, masseuse, 'plant'.
With the chalet tape in mind, one prime target for a recorded post mortem was Mrs. Acer-ton's 'woodchopper'-the one with the double-sized dick. This party, though possessing the pleasant physical look of LADY CHATTERLY'S LOVER, turned out to be a dud. He was a device, one of many invented and used by Mrs. Acerton to make her husband jealous and to stir up his flagging sexual energy.
At the end of a fifteen minute interview, this writer came away convinced that had the
'woodchopper' ever walked in on a scene such as the chalet tape described, he would have gone into shock and acquired a mental block towards all manifestations of sex.
More enlightening was the nature of things the pretty Acerton maid could recall.
Nettie Spargo was basically a sentimentalist who continually fell into money traps ... on purpose. Her great redeeming characteristic was sincerity. She sincerely disliked doing anything for nothing. There had to be some return, some reciprocation. Once that was settled, Nettie became embarrassingly helpful, without inhibitions, a bold, passionate thirty-year-old firm-assed lass who loved to talk!
This writer contacted Nettie a week prior to the death of Acerton and many times thereafter, and always found her willing to go into details about fundamentals.
"Their bed," she explained, "was one of those round luxury things. The sheets have to be special and they're a job to put on. But it was a lovely thing-the circular back was cushioned and covered with deep blue velvet. The spread and pillows matched. We used to joke in the kitchen about how Mrs. Acerton, being so young and beautiful, didn't really need such fixings to turn old Acerton on, but I guess it was the mirrors we wondered about the most. There were five of them-the cheval, movable type mirror, and I always found them up close to the bed in the morning!
"And of course, I always pulled the stereo out and removed the tapes and fit the bugging equipment with fresh cartridges and-oh yes, I was the investigator's 'plant' in the Acerton household. Hadn't you guessed? Rut do you know-I have never heard even one of those tapes played back! And I'm glad the relatives were told that they couldn't use them for character assassination. Nala Acerton may have been pretty bad, but she didn't deserve that. And who can say her marriage was wrong? Even if it was one lone bed-battle. It could have been fun for her and Acerton. In fact, I'm sure it was-the way they bombed each other with personal dirt, taunting each other until they were hungry enough to eat at the Y. Oh, I heard some of it almost every night before they went into the bedroom. Sex-that's all they had on their minds-her, anyway!
"But I liked Nala Acerton. I think we all like earthy people and Nala certainly qualified for that description. I don't know whether or not she had changed, but at that time she liked to have someone around, even when she was taking a shower-someone to gape at her beautiful body. And when she found out I was a professional masseuse-I was working in a massage parlor when I was hired for this job-she often had me come into her bedroom whenever old Acerton was away.
"She was very generous with tips for off-beat chores. These chores started off innocently enough, with her asking me to undress and get into the shower to rub the 'kinks' out of her back. Frankly, that lovely young puss never had a kink in her life, but I wasn't above pretending to find a few-not when the tips started at five dollars and I could hear a promise of a raise in pay when my practiced fingers strayed from her back to more intimate areas. I'm not a lesbian, per se, but I recognize sexual enjoyment when I see it-and I know all the techniques. Nala wasn't a lesbian, either. But she was a potential one. She was a potential anything pertaining to sex. That's what I meant when I said she was earthy. She had that glow, that special 'smell' if you will, that attracts most men ... and some women.
"Yes, I was attracted to Nala Acerton, and after a few sessions with her in the shower and later on the bed-God, how I loved her voluptuous body-I began to secretly hope she would succeed in putting old Acerton away with ecstasy ... forever. Oh, I knew this might happen-not by deliberate plan, perhaps, and not like a foggy subconscious death wish, either, but with something more like a sex-hex. I think it really was in this way because she was SEX and if old Acerton got drowned in that ... well ... wasn't that what he'd married her for?
"So, when she came back from the chalet alone and immediately changed into outdoor clothes, (one of her colorful slacks and sweater outfits) and went out for a lonely walk through the ten acres of aspen, pine and dwarf cedar Acerton called 'the grounds', I guessed old Acerton was in the hospital again, and my hopes of having her permanently dependent on me for all the bedroom fun jumped a notch.
"I watched her from windows in the study." The cheery fire behind me and my own selfish thoughts made her seem forlorn, brave and gorgeous, striding through the trees, ignoring the autumn wind, kicking arrogantly at the bright piles of fallen leaves. The leaves were like her own bright dreams, I remember thinking-piled up and pretty, but useless as long as old Acerton is in the hospital.
"Recuperating? To hell with his recuperation!" Those were my sentiments.
"Oh, I knew that Nala didn't look at it in just that way. She was mostly lonely ... and frustrated ... and needed someone. Nala always NEEDED! She needed me later that evening-in fact she called the kitchen on the house intercom demanding me!
"I blushed when I heard her voice. It had a wanton undertone mixed with all the impatience of a yearning lover. Yet, we had never gone that far-we had only looked and wondered-Nala's blue eyes turned violet when she wondered ... but that was all we had done, except maybe once ... once when Nala had pinched the mound (mine is very heavily covered with hair that is just bit finer and darker than that on my head). She'd pinched me as though wanting to know how firm the flesh was there-and it is firm because she'd said, between those throaty giggles of hers, that she thought we could fit together and go rub-a-dub-dub!
"She was sitting at the writing desk, talking on the phone when I entered the bedroom. She was very alluring in a white shortie nightgown, with the orchid areolas of her breasts staining the cloth.
"Seizing her favorite hair brush from the dresser, I went to her side and began brushing, bending low to bathe in the warm fragrance of her hair and body.
"I removed my blouse and let the masses of her silken, shoulder-length hair brush my arms and the feeling steeped me with an emotion that made me want to press my face, my mouth ... myself against her smooth supple shoulders, her breasts ... all of her-the creamy skin, the delicate curves, the silken sleekness of her inner thighs, the ringlets of hair, the warm cunt lips-
"I drew back when she cradled the phone and turned to me angrily, wanting to know if that damned doctor didn't realize how much a woman needed her husband. And what the hell did it matter if Acerton was dead or alive, if he was going to be kept in the hospital to rest.
T went back to her side and began brushing her hair again, crying to soothe her. Soon she stood up to clasp my hand and pulled me toward the bed, and then down upon it, where she gave way to a tantrum. She squirmed about on the bed until the lovely pink and white buttocks were bare. She threshed about, parting and closing her quivery thighs.
"I listened to her stormy breathing for several seconds, then leaned over and pushed my hand between her thighs until my fingers closed on her clit. I massaged her delicately, getting her up to a gentle spasm that seemed to ease her need a little. But not mine!
"I left her as soon as she was under the covers, knowing that her body would be sated by my caresses, but the I would be frustrated in the intimate exchange. For I wouldn't-I couldn't go the whole lesbian route by demand, or even for money. There had to be a more mutual exchange. And there could be, but it didn't happen the next night or the next. At the end of the week, Acerton came home."
CHAPTER SIX
Nala and Acerton Bedroom tape. Recorded after Acerton's release from hospital-December 14, 1966.
"Can't you wait until I dry myself? I just came out of the shower?"
"Old Daddy, it looks so good to me I could kiss it!"
(Kissing sounds)
"You're doing more than kissing it."
"M-m-m-what?"
"Stop! You've made me come a little."
"O-oh-I didn't think it would come ... soft."
"Well-now you know!"
"It's just a bead-a pearl!"
(licking sounds)
"There-I kissed it away!"
"Kiss? First time I ever saw a five-inch kiss!"
"But you can see that the head came out a hell of a lot bigger than when it went in, and you can also see that I'm bare-assed naked, that I've saved you the trouble of undressing me-"
"Yes-but actually I thought you were going to take a shower!"
"And waste all this preparation! Look down here at it, Old Daddy! See-my fingers won't go around it, and it's four hands long, not counting the flange!"
"Flange?"
"The head, you old fucker! This big pink one-eyed womb-knocker! I could just kiss it and kiss it and kiss it!"
(movement-giggling-cursing)
"Do we have to bring those mirrors up to the bed? I don't like it-it's cheap voyeurism!"
"Where do you get all those imagine words, Old Daddy-out of a book?"
"Some of them! Don't you ever crack a book, Nala?"
(giggle) "Un-huh-racy paperbacks are my poison! But I'd rather help you crack a crack. Or should I say, I'd rather furnish the crack for you to crack?"
"You want to kill me, Nala? I'm just back from the hospital!"
"You started that the minute you came home. And you know what I told you then. You want to do it as much as I, but that doctor has you scared about your heart. Listen, fucking isn't going to stop your ticker-worrying about it might. Here, put your hand on my cunny, feel how full the lips are! You know what that means!"
"It means passion! ... Darling! I do want you!
(rustle of bedding, murmurings.)
"You knew I would. I'm going for you the instant I put my hand between your legs. It was the same way with Reva. When hers pouted she wanted it kissed, kept trying to get a thigh hold on my head!"
(vaginal kisses-lapping)
"Oh! Oh! Here we go. The last time it was your second wife, tonight, it's your third. You're not fooling me, Old Daddy-you tell your stories to kill me off!"
"Why accuse me of that? My stories are as sexy as yours!"
"No soul! You leave the dirty words out. And even if you didn't, you'd still be trying to kill me off!"
"Kill you off?"
"Sure! Why fuck, Old Daddy, hadn't you noticed? I tell my stories after we start! My stories arc head-first-the head-of-your-cock-in-my-eunny first!"
"But I couldn't tell a story you could understand while we were-while I was putting my cock in!"
"I've got my ass-jack under me so you just start and let me be the judge of that-ohh! That's not the way. Don't kiss my cunny flat out of no start, no build-up!"
"You're pulling my hair!"
"I'm holding you away! If you're going to kiss my cunny, do it right-start up around my breasts and lick your way down! Leave a path across my belly and through the hair. I like to feel the your wet tongue!"
"You have lovely nipples!"
"We-l-l ... start with them!"
(kisses-drooling-wallowing)
"That's ... ouch ... enough! Now down! Ye-s-s! Old Daddy, how do you put out so much fine talk with such a c-coarse tongue?"
"Who's ... stuttering ... now?"
"Yes, but shit, THAT tickles!"
"I'm a tomcat and your skin is cream! I'm going to lap it up!"
"Not on my flanks, you're not! O-ooh!"
"Stop flinching!"
(shrieks)
"Had enough? Say daddy and promise!"
"P-promise what."
"No story tonight."
"Kiss my cunny, then! (vaginal kisses)
"Again-and wet it for the start! (vaginal slurps) "O-ooh ... that tongue ... is ... so ... rough!"
(bed creak)
"You're quick with the meat, Old Daddy."
"Your cunny's wet-it started easily."
"We've got to slow down or it'll all be over."
"OK, but no story."
"I don't need a story-not exactly, anyway, because you see, you've got a rival! Does that make you jealous?"
"That woodchopper!? "
"No-this rival is the opposite of that brute. Subtle, with a gentle, knowing nerve-tingling touch!"
"Sounds like a doctor or ... a woman. God forbid! That's all I need-a lesbian in the house!"
"I didn't say your rival was in the house!"
"But you don't deny that the party in question is a woman!"
"Fuck no-why should I?"
"Or that she's a lesbian?"
(giggle) "She might tongue my cunny without being a lesbian!"
"She has done that?"
"No. I said she might. I think she's in love with me!" (groan)
"And furthermore, I think she will kiss my cunny when I ask her to ... and ream my ass-hole out with her tongue for good measure!"
"Ahhh-Christ! How can she stand your filthy talk?"
"Because she knows it isn't all talk, and because she's in love with me ... just as you are!"
"What does she look like? Are you going to reciprocate?"
"Wouldn't you like that-wouldn't it rest your heart to know that someone else is skimming your cream-and a woman at that?"
"What does she look like?"
"Oh, she's not too bad-on the big side. Not stout, though. Nice thighs, lots of hair, glossy and long. She has a soft kiss. And I'd say a lick-able cunt, as well."
(snort)
"That describes no one in particular!"
"Oh, you want particulars. Well, we'll have to go underneath for that, won't we? Say, around the crotch? A mole? A birthmark? A blemish? No? Then a small cunny! Almost a virgin-small cunny. Big women often have small, almost virgin cunnys! My would-be lesbian lover-"
"For God's sake, Nala!"
"My would-be lover has a distinctive mound. That's the main particular. It protrudes like a fucking knob. If she'd shave it, it would look like the head of one hell of a big cock!"
"Shut that foul mouth!"
"Kiss it! Kiss my foul mouth! Kiss both my foul mouths."
"Ah, Nala ... you're so lovely! When I feel you-"
"Shit on all that poesy! I'm built for fucking and fucking and fucking!"
"You're vile-you spoil our times together. Sometimes I'm tempted to belt the hell out of you!
"That would be just as tough on your heart as fucking me and ... not nearly as much fun!"
"Nala-we shouldn't!"
"It's against my cunny-PUSH!"
"U-h-h-m-m ... you need me, huh? A woman needs a man!"
"Sure-sure! And a man can sit around on his haunches with a finger in his ass and let a hot woman go to waste!"
"Kee-rist! I told you not to do that, Nala!"
"It makes you hump ... and hell, it's only my little finger! What's that compared to your big banana ... in me?"
"That ... banana-it makes the feeling more complete ... than what ... a lesbian can do!"
"Complete, replete, deplete! What the hell! Show me, Old Daddy! Show me."
"By God, I will!"
(noisy clap of hands to flesh. Sharp, incoherent expressions of passion)
"It h-u-r-rts good! Pry me apart, Oh-h-ld Daddy!"
"You're h-h-hot! It-it burns and cuts!"
"Push my legs up ... o-o-ooh! It's busting big! Hurting big! You Old Daddy bastard! Give it to me!
"I-I can't m-move! I'll k-kill the l-little man."
"What ... little man?"
"Inside you . . in your cunny! The ... there's a little man in a ve-velvet bottomed b-boat!"
"You trying to say I'm pregnant?"
"No-I mean ... I mean it feels so swishy!"
"okay-fantasize! Your cock feels so good now I don't care. What's the little man doing?"
"He's rowing it, rowing it, rowing it!"
"So-where is the little man in the velvet-bottomed boat rowing tooo? Ohhh!"
"A-around and around!"
(honeyed gurgles)
"Tickles! It's in, you know! My hair to your hair!"
"And back and f-forth ... r-rowing against my c-cock!"
"Where against, Old Daddy?"
"Under the head, left side-most ticklish place!"
"Know why, Old Daddy? Know why that's the-Ohhh shit, it's too hard. I'm GOING!" (gasps, bed springs creaking, shrill wails!) "Nala ... tell me now!"
"Ohh-it still feels so good! It's big yet, and soft and squishy!"
"You were going to tell me something about why it's ticklish under the head."
"On the left side-yes, that's because you're right-handed and your fingers always pulled at the skin and nerves there!"
"Aw!"
"Sure-sure, Old Daddy. When you jacked off you fingered those nerves the most!"
"Nala ... Darling, please don't start moving your hips! Nala...! No. The ... l-little m-man is starting to ... r-row again! You WANT me to die? I will, you-you know!"
"It's hard again. I always die a little when I come! Ohhh...! "
(eager squeals) "Push! Fuck!" (shuddery gasps)
"You do it good for an Old Daddy. That's why I make my lips sweet for you! Give it to me! Give it to meeee!"
"Na-la!
"Little death me."
"Ahhh!"
(grunts ... shrieks of ecstasy.)
CHAPTER SEVEN
Nettie Spargo-second interview.
"When Nala told me that Acerton was going up into the mountains to hunt deer with some of his cronies and wouldn't be back for twenty-four hours, all I could think of was that Nala would be lonely. She would want me! Perhaps all night!
"Actually, Acerton wasn't to do any hunting unless a deer crossed in front of the lodge. Climbing was out, too. All he was supposed to do was breathe fresh air, eat hearty food and get some color back into his sallow cheeks. Doctor's orders. I had another idea when Nala told me about the rules for this restful safari: could be that Acerton would forget the doctor's orders and hunt, after all. If he did-well, the hunting season fatalities always included several old men with heart trouble!
"Well, Acerton left and within the hour after his departure, Nala called me to her side, where I stayed throughout the day. It was lovely! We walked around the grounds, put on swimsuits but never touched the pool, except with our toes. It was too cold. We giggled, clasped hands, hugged, rubbed our skins together. It was delightful.
"We had dinner in the study. Afterwards, there was wine. Nala's blue-violet eyes flirted with me.
"My hand was in hers as we went into the bedroom. She gave it a little squeeze and then we both stripped and got onto the bed, and, to my great surprise and disappointment, Nala took a paperback book out of the nightstand drawer and began to read.
"Disappointed though I was, I still took advantage of what I could, and slid close to Nala, fitting my body to her warm curves as I examined the book. It was a racy sexbook, obviously filled with torrid anecdotes and other lusty, longer stories.
"Nala read avidly, seemingly able to drop into the story and submerge her emotions. At the
'hot' spots her cheeks flushed, her breath quickened and her thighs convulsed. At these times, she became very receptive to the feel of my hand. I began reading along with her, the better to gauge my opportunities."
Nala and Nettie began to read alternate paragraphs.
* * *
The place was crowded and Laddy felt a hand on his arm. "Hail to the victor!" a soft awed voice said at his side.
Laddy turned to the same girl who had stopped at his booth earlier. Her eyes were round with admiration.
"I just had to thank you for beating the hell out of Big Boggs!" she said.
Laddy stared. "What did they do-broadcast it?"
The girl was smiling now. There was hero-worship in her eyes. "I was there-saw most of the fight from the basement steps, along with a few more female Boggs-haters. We yelled every time you chopped Boggs' overbearing face!"
She stepped closer, clucking her tongue sympathetically. "You took a few yourself!" She dabbed his face with her handkerchief and it came away splotched with blood.
Laddy fingered his face. He hadn't realized it was sore and cut.
"Come up to my room and let me take care of those cuts!" the girl said firmly.
They left the dive and walked two doors down the street and entered a small, neat hotel. They crossed the empty lobby, with the girl leading the way. Laddy had a chance to size up his volunteer nurse as they climbed a flight of steps. She was mature and fulsomely curvaceous. She moved with a sexy, rhythmic, whore-hipped swing.
Once in her room she gave him a drink of bourbon and bathed his face with warm water. It felt good-the inside-outside treatment. The whiskey left a streak of welcome heat in his guts and her hands moved gently, sympathetically against his face.
Suddenly she kissed him. Laddy reached for her and his hands went on a hungering trip of discovery over the warm curves and dimples of her body. He hunkered his weight against her. She spread her legs and began to pant.
Finally she drew back. "Let me undress!" she murmured huskily.
Laddy watched her, his crotch crawling as her gorgeous thighs, buttocks, and breasts were bared.
Nude, she faced him, her soft ringlet-covered groin thrust out, her inner thighs dimpling and quivering. Her hot eyes heated his face, making the bruises tingle. Then she came close and began picking at his belt. Laddy got a smell of her warmth and musky perfume and felt a wild surge of desire.
He pushed her towards the bed and shucked off his clothes.
The moment he was beside her, she began beating her hairy Venus mound with his cock and murmuring, "Boggs isn't king of this hill anymore!"
When he was bursting hard, she turned on her side, facing him, and clasped his throbbing rod between her hot thighs.
She pressed her nails into his back. "You're the king now!" she hissed and jabbed at his mouth with her tongue.
Laddy growled. He was still tensed up. He rushed his passion at the girl, wild to spill the thick, cloyingly sweet dregs of the fight.
His heavy balls battered the girl's swiveling ass as he forced his cock in, opening her cunt.
"O-h-h!"
He felt the girl shudder and looked down. Her cunt was slewing around his big plug, pink lips stretched from a slit to a taut, round clasp of flesh. That part of his cock lucky enough to be in was being warmed and twitched and anointed. The heavy part of the shaft which remained outside was being teased and tickled by a dusky cloud of fringing cunt hair.
He humped over her, groaning with the loaded sweetness of their half-marriage. She moaned and he saw that her eyes had gone sullen and selfish with sexual preoccupation. Though giving the FEELING, he was excluded from it. A WHORE NEVER MATES WITH A STRANGER!
He lunged mercilessly, knotting his butt, cramming his cock in until she was clasping him in her arms, widening her crotch, pissing and kissing. He was hung up on her ecstatic shriek when he started to go. He stayed with it, stretching her scream to hell and back.
Afterwards, he dressed quickly and left, not forgetting to put some money on the dresser. It wasn't much, but it was all he had.
* * *
"Nala closed the book and took two cigarettes out of the pack on the nightstand. She gave one to me, kept the other. I could see that if I rolled on my side to face her our breasts would touch. Naturally, I rolled, and when our nipples kissed, my nerves carried the message of Nala's heat down to my clit.
" 'Light me!' Nala demanded, her lips pursed out around the cigarette, holding it towards me.
I hesitated, not wanting to play the hasty fool. In a bolder mood or with a lesser woman, I might have reached for the glossy nest on her crotch. I might have pretended, at least, that I thought she meant ... do it to me-someway!
"The matches were on the nightstand behind me. As I rolled, I got what I could out of it by pressing forward, mashing and rubbing my breasts against hers as I turned. Then we had our cigarettes going and were leaning back against the headboard to smoke and read some more. I glanced at Nala's gorgeous breasts. The beautiful orchid areolas had formed into long velvety nipples, twice the size of my own hard, beady buds. She was reading again and my eyes skittered over the soft swell of her belly and pulled at the tasseled ringlets of honey-blonde hair showing between the relaxed, alluring roundness of her thighs.
"She finished the page and smiled gaily as she marked the inside edge with her thumbnail.
" 'First time I ever tore off a piece of ass, literally!' she mused, tearing the page out of the book and handing it to me.
" "They get to it quick!' I think I said, and she said, 'Men are that way ... unless one finds a way to slow them down! This one,' she nodded at the page in my hand-'starts the same way-'
"Nala closed the book.
"We lit cigarettes again and rolled over on our bellies to smoke and read, but we didn't do either right away ... for awhile ... because I couldn't resist patting Nala's lovely backside and she returned the compliment on my ample buttocks. Then I slid my fingers between her cheeks and touched her ass-hole, poking gently, knowing it would awaken a pleasant feeling in her clit. She accommodated me in like manner and we lay there with our heads resting on our free arms, gratifying the feeling in that one spot, using it up but not moving on...
"I think we both smelled the stinky shit simultaneously when we took up our cigarettes again. I knew instantly it was on my finger and my eyes swerved quickly to Nala. Our eyes met and we laughed and got up and went into the bath to wash our hands. Afterwards we did smoke our cigarettes and began reading-"
* * *
He pulled Shelly against him, cutting off with a hairy forearm the scream that rose in her throat. Once silenced, he plucked her from the floor and carried her up the hall, staggering against the wall until he found an open door. The room had high, recessed lighting.
"New girl, huh?" He released her while she was still beating on his chest.
"I came in to use the phone-the girls always let me use the phone!" she told him.
"Phone," he repeated, grimacing dumbly.
"Yes-my house trailer across the alley doesn't have one!" She was trying desperately to disassociate herself from his image of her. He didn't have to keep looking at those parts of her body the shortie-nightie didn't cover. Why couldn't he remember seeing her coat ... on the floor below the wall phone? He should be made to realize-
He moved towards her and she cringed, but his big arms closed around her. He forced her back to the bed. She tried to scream and couldn't. Then she began, going weak and willing, doing all those things she knew she shouldn't, like letting herself feel every move of his big body as he set himself above her and widened the yielding, sensitive place between her thighs for his accommodation. She clutched up at him through a spasm of emotions, snagging her fingers on his corded muscles. She realized, waywardly, that her body was turning traitor. Her insides shivered convulsively.
He was moving, pressing a pain and pleasure feeling in between her thighs, denting all of the soft, sensitive spot around her ass and cunt with his huge cock. As though from far, far away, she heard a woman moaning and carrying on in the adjoining room. Without knowing why, she mimicked the sounds.
"Feels good, huh?" The man moved his hand across her face, half rubbing, half slapping.
She faked a moan and willed a laxness over her body.
"For crissakes!" He stopped poking for a moment. "You a virgin?" he muttered. "You don't seem to know how. Or maybe you think I'm too drunk!"
She moaned again. The head of his cock spread so-it was so blunt. It was much bigger than any she had ever felt before. It was stretching her to a sharper tickle. Her stomach fluttered.
His heavy breathing shook the bed a little ... enough to move his body, change the pressure ... and ... spread the tickle!
He pulled her knees up under his armpits and hooked them there.
He had to stop! She couldn't stand it! She mustn't stand it!
"You didn't pay me!" she screamed irrelevantly. And that broke the dam. The brute's hesitation vanished. He fucked her as only a wild beast could.
She screamed with outrage. She screamed for help. She screamed her resistance away ... irrevocably.
"Nala closed the book, keeping her forefinger between the pages as a marker.
" 'like a gin?' she asked.
"I nodded and she produced a bottle from the nightstand drawer. We each had a drink and then lit up smokes and began reading again...."
* * *
Without breaking the rhythmic tapping of her high heels on the pavement, the girl turned her head and stoned him with her eyes as he came up and briefly matched his clumsy waddle to her wriggling stride. He fell back obediently, careening and wallowing like an overloaded barge in a heavy wake until her jouncy ass took hold of his attention and got him in tow again.
"You're too drunk!" the girl whispered out of the side of her mouth, turning her head no more than if she were looking at a passing car in the street.
"Naw! Only had a few!" he muttered hoarsely. He was scowling, breathing heavily from the fast pace the girl was setting. He opened his mouth to speak again, but drew a deep breath instead, as three people passed them, going in the opposite direction.
He was too heavy for fast walking. Too heavy and too old. He longed to slow down and sidle up to the glittering inside lining of the street. He often gawked into the display windows. In fact, he had been gawking at a lingerie display when the girl came by and smiled. Her complexion was good ... young. True-there were faint professional shadows under her eyes. And there was an unmistakably experienced twist to her hips, a certain knowing bounce to her buttocks. If this were not true, he would not be following her.
He wished that she had the habit of looking into windows. Perhaps then she would pause and allow him to get his wind. As it was now, no fresh air seemed to reach the bottom of his lungs. He was gasping in such a way, that all his breathing was in his throat. The air was sliding up and down his throat like a piston with a stroke too shallow to turn the crankshaft.
He had the petulant thought that the urge was driving him to his grave. He was sure that if she were in it and beckoning to him he would fall down upon her. And that would be the end of it. Or would it? Perchance there was a pushing and rubbing beyond as that great literary guy, somebody or other, had suggested.
The girl turned off the great retail street into one lined with hock shops and tawdry taverns. Soon there were fewer hock shops and more cheap rooming houses. The girl turned into one of these, which was an upstairs room over the dark, grimy windows of a Youth Rehabilitation Effort. The lettering on the rooming house door said, SHY ANN ROOMS.
His ardor winced and lapsed momentarily as he eyed the steep stairs. The girl's calves were level with his eyes though she was only a few feet removed from him. It was as though she were on a ladder on the way to heaven ... sex heaven. He gulped and clutched out at the pipe bolted to the side of the wall and pulled himself up laboriously.
He reached the landing just in time to see her pause halfway down the dimly lit hall and look around in his direction. He thought he saw her gesture for him to hurry and a fit of anger went through him that he immediately tried to cast away. Anger combined with his near-exhaustion would make it more impossible to reach the portals of ecstasy. He remembered his last failure and it sent a chill through him that was also unwelcome.
She had left the door ajar and he went into the room, filling it with his bulk, his explosive breathing creating a hurricane. He looked at the girl anxiously, ready to apologize, but she was at the dresser with her back to him.
"Must you wheeze so?" she queried, frowning;
"It was those steps!" he explained.
"I think you're too drunk!" she said, coining close and looking into his eyes.
He averted his gaze and put his hand behind her back, letting his hold slide down to her buttocks. He put his hands on the roundness that he found there, riding the firm flesh up and down gently; the feel sent messages along his nerves that made his spine begin to pulse and glow like a neon tube.
"I don't think I'm too drunk!" he told the girl. Then he went to the bed and sprawled on it and his weight made a deep trench in the cheap springs and mattress. That was one of the troubles he had; all too often the girl beneath him sank to frustrating depths.
"God!" the girl breathed, and he saw her eyes take him in, almost as if she were seeing him for the first time. This often happened, too. They didn't realize his girth until he was in their tiny rooms, stretched out on their sleazy beds.
He reached into his pocket knowing from experience that he had better pay her before she decided to feel him out. Women got curious when they became conscious of his size. There was that streak of skepticism in them. Most of them wanted double the usual after they found out; others wanted no part of him and would not take his money. But all of them were curious. It was the old story of beauty and the beast. Not that many of them were really beautiful. In fact, few of them were as pretty as the one he had met today. But they all liked to prod and poke him like he was some horrid lobster or some other monstrously ugly denizen of the deep that they had caught in their net.
"If I had realized what an ugly brute you are, I wouldn't have brought you here!" the girl said, her wide eyes fastened on his head, which he knew was abnormally large and round. Then he saw her eyes go over his face, touching its twisted, wretched features slowly, as though she were rationing the horror of it in endurable amounts to her nervous system.
"You are looking at the best part of me!" he told her, striving to make his strange, guttural tones a little less frightening than they were.
The girl's eyes jerked along his massive figure stretched out on the bed. "You mean the rest of you is more ugly than your face?"
He nodded. "I'm an awful monster undressed!"
The girl sidled carefully away from the bed. "I've heard there were such ugly repulsive brutes ... like the great apes in the zoo!" A spate of terror stiffened her pretty features. "Get out of here!" she hissed. When he didn't move, she suddenly sprang at the bed and struck out at him with a stiff outstretched arm. Her anger and terror carried her only to the edge of the bed and her hand scarcely brushed his thigh. He laughed and the whole bed shook.
He stopped laughing by degrees, as it was difficult to turn it off all at once. Then his hand went to a pocket and he drew forth a wallet. Two bills slid out in his fingers and he threw them across towards the girl.
"Turn out the light!" he ordered, noting how the girl ducked to get the money without taking her eyes from him.
"No!" she blurted, holding the money, folding it indecisively. "I wouldn't ... I couldn't! I never turn out the light!" She threw the money back onto the bed. "You'd better go!"
He brushed the money off the bed and grinned at her. He felt grimly patient. He knew that she wanted his money-that she was afraid of him but the dark, curious recess of her mind longed to see him naked. She wanted to be shocked ... to bathe in horror but without hurt. And he knew what the next part of the procedure had to be.
"Go get me a pint of bourbon!" he ordered, and indicated the money on the floor.
The girl scooped up the money, making a small, soft sucking sound as she crumpled the money in her hand.
The man stripped and got his ponderous weight back on the bed, covering his nakedness with a sheet before she got back. He saw her eyes dart from his clothes on a chair to the outline of his bulk beneath the sheet the moment she entered the room. Her hand trembled as she put the bottle of whisky on the table.
"Want some water with yours?" she murmured, rummaging nervously in the top drawer of the bureau and producing, finally, two glasses.
He reared up on one elbow and the bed squealed a protest. "This damned bed will never do!" he growled.
"It-it won't?" the girl was at the lavatory. The glasses that she was rinsing clinked loudly against the sides of the basin.
"And don't put water in my whiskey!" he warned harshly.
"Maybe we-we could take it off! The mattress, I mean!"
He glowered, shaking his huge, ugly round head. He knew she was trying to get him up, to have her look and perhaps run from the room. But her idea of putting the mattress on the floor was good, although he doubted she had meant it to be. He heaved himself off the bed, gathering the sheet around him like a Roman toga.
"All right," he said, "fix it!"
Stiff-faced, the girl pushed the bed against the wall and slid the mattress to the floor, hastily rearranging the quilts and pillows. He could hear her soft, shallow, abated breathing. God!
She would be tense and hard as an old woman if she didn't get over some of her ... her ... whatever it was.
Holding the sheet in one hand, he thrust the bottle of whiskey at her with the other.
"Pour some drinks! And make them big ... big! To go with the rest of me!"
He drank the quarter of a glass of whiskey that she poured and then watched as she added water to hers.
Some of the tenseness left her face. She undressed to the waist and went about the room, poking jerkily at the air with her pointed, dark-tipped breasts.
He gestured for another drink ... and another, forcing more on her, too.
His toga fell to the floor. She bent forward to look and laughed wildly. His cock was fat and floppy. He laughed with her. He always laughed with them. He always got them to play with it, and it always got longer and fatter and floppier.
The girl took off her skirt and panties and pulled his cock between her shapely thighs. It grew there, sticking out of her hair and his hair until, with its huge shaft sticking out of her lithe slenderness, she had more the look of virile maleness than he, with his overstuffed stomach and jiggling rolls of fat.
She laughed hysterically and squeezed her thighs, taking firm twisting possession of his shaft as she minced backwards to the mattress, drawing him along. The squeezing, rolling motion gave him a brutal hard-on. He flexed and she tried to look down but he caught the light cord and pulled the switch. He heard her breathing sharpen. Then her hands fluttered down between them. One found the shaft of his cock in front, the other went to her rear, where the head was seeking to burrow in the cleft of her buttocks.
She rose on her toes and pulled free. He heard her hit the mattress. She was on her hands and knees, scrambling away when he caught her and began thrusting mindlessly at the softness of her buttocks. She whimpered softly, balling and hardening her butt to keep him away from the mark. He sawed along the channel of her rump, bumping and holding his balls into her heat ... letting his pendulous gut relax over the length of his cock. Gradually his arms tightened about her waist and he used his knee to spread her legs. He wasn't going to put it in dog-fashion. He only wanted to hear her gasp when he rammed it through and flexed it against her belly. Then she'd know. He had been called a monster, a stud, an ape, a bull--they all had their evil bestial comparisons and recriminations, their gasps and moanings and whinings, their moments of refusal, but he had yet to find one that didn't turn to endearments before it was over. None of them had offered to return the money.
She suffered at first. Any young, childless woman was a virgin, for him. She would bleed, too-just as though he'd raped her cherry!
"Wait!" she implored, and he might have, but he knew that was no good. There would be pain until the head was well in, regardless. She would do better to pull the lips apart. He showed her, first on one side, then the other.
"Why didn't you tell me? You could see that I was small!" she whimpered.
He didn't answer because-hell-he'd have had to tell her that of course he'd known. So he pushed ... and her cunt spread slowly. She began catching her breath, twisting, spreading her moistness ... and beginning to want him.
He fed it to her slowly and her knees came up and her butt with them. He felt her kick a little and quiver.
"I-I didn't think I was going to like you," she confessed, when he paused to catch his breath.
"Because I'm fat?"
"Yes-that, and your head. Men with big round heads usually have."
"Big round cocks? Have I disappointed you."
"God, no! Yours is super!" He grinned and began fucking her again. She thought the worst was over, and maybe it was. Some women could derive a kind of frenzied rapture out of spreading themselves to take the massive base of his cock. Others screamed and squirmed and evaded. He wasn't a strong man, nor an agile one. He was easily winded. All he had was his weight, the ability to fall forward upon them. They had to do the rest-they had to take, to grind their butts while he remained comparatively passive-woman-like so to speak But he could hurt them with his abnormal largeness. It was a natural reaction for them to twist and buck. And some of them wanted to hurt him back. These were the best twists of all.
"Is it in?" The girl was panting. He felt a jerk of her juice running warmly down over his balls.
"U-uh." He moved over her and let his body act as a sinker.
"Ohh!" she quivered with shock, then struggled, beating his huge ass with her heels.
He surged, clenching his fat buttocks. She screamed out in rapture and he felt the hot flow of her first come. Then suddenly she was wet and slick and up tight, hissing, rubbing her cunt sensuously against his skin and hair. He gushed gloriously. God, she was a doll!
CHAPTER EIGHT
"Nala closed the book. She squeaed with delight. I joined in, leaning close. Our bodies were touching in several places-breasts, arms, legs. My belly was fitted into the curve of her waist. And now our laughter jiggled us, rubbed our skins together at those places.
" "That guy was fat!' Nala laid her hand on my flank, fingers curled slightly. I could feel the cutting tickle of her bright red nails. My skin twitched and we both laughed again. The barrier was crumbling. I blew my belly out, expanding it into the full curve of her waist. One more story and-
"But I didn't want to read ... I wanted to be free to feast my eyes on Nala's beauty. I wanted visual as well as tactile use of the combined sensuality, the provocative double exposure of both our bodies ... that were so skin close together now.
" 'You read!' I urged, inflating myself against her side again.
"She smiled and playfully dug her nails into my flank. 'And what will you do-listen or otherwise amuse yourself?'
"'Both!' I promised and leaned down and kissed her navel.
"Her eyes grew big and violet. 'Is it wise to start from the middle?'
"My smile, which I wanted to be pretty, felt more like a grin. My lips were stiff with desire.
'"You're beautiful!' I blurted, palming the soft swell of her thigh-'all over!'
"She regarded me solemnly for an instant. 'Have fun!' she said, assuming an air of mock resignation as she took up the book, prepared to read ... and hid behind the reading, and came out only if I tickled too much, which I promptly did again by kissing her navel.
"She made a sulky sound in her throat and gathered a tight handful of my hair, apparently intending that I should mind my manners or ... improve my technique. Then she pretended to forget me and commenced reading aloud, the inflection of her tones going up or down, depending on whether I was smooching towards or away from ... her crotch. I could tell that she wanted me to kiss it ... and I would! I knew I would ... if she stroked my face softly enough ... guided me lovingly enough, while she read-"
* * *
Baffled by the complexity of other people's behavior, Reuben surrendered, as he often did, to an examination into the state of his own mind. He plucked two lewd pictures from the permanent album of his photographic memory, chose one and concentrated. The power of his ability to recall was so great it began making reprints of his last coitus-her shadowy body and his. Her rounded, strangely translucent thighs were upraised, his nerve-lined penis going in, ringed with a patch (hair), parting her vagina and making her sigh and twitch and get the look of a come.
His memory always got a fix on a woman's come. It haunted him-the moaning, the rolled-back eyes, the similarity to dying. Remembering, he felt like the badman in a gun-fighting Western: he had to kill again-that is, get a fresh piece, cut a new notch, ad infinitum.
Reuben smoothed the arm of the sofa, turning his hand back down to brush the heavy brown hair growing between his knuckles. He had big hands! Broad-palmed, rough-fingered, bachelor hands! And women were always trying to hold them, press them, guide them ... women like May Larkin, who lived next door to where he roomed. May had four kids and was wanting another. In fact, she spent time in his bed ... wanting. May was on some kind of government aid, and to her a kid was money in the cookie jar, no matter what the color of the kid's skin!
Reuben patted the spot on the sofa where he placed their asses. There were three women who came up to the old rooftop summerhouse on their lunch hours, four or five times a month, now that the boss had stopped using it. They appeared as regularly as elements of the solar system, following, it seemed, the same magnificently motivated pattern of action as the voluptuously swelling tides.
Reuben grinned. They all took turns ... coming ... all except one. Poor Lena! It was the whiskey that she knew he had stored up here that brought her to the summerhouse. She would do anything for whiskey. She was only a few propositions away from full-fledged whore-hood. Trouble was, she wouldn't ever make an efficient whore. Too scrawny. She didn't give a man a real yen. Not a natural one. She was too tense and nervously eager to please ... too quick to wet her lips (cracked most of the time) and massage a man's crotch. Yeah-she was going to have to watch it-reaching around and rubbing ... right in the elevator. And all for a drink. Christ, the bums would mangle her when she got to skid-row ... and that was where she was headed.
The thing that dumped him with Lena was that she was too disgustingly sure he liked to have her go down on him!
He reached for the slipcover he had taken off and snugged it back down over the sofa, smoothing out the wrinkles. He shifted and bent his big frame, deft and lithe in this housekeeping chore as he was with all his janitorial work, pridefully conscious that he made the menial work look like a smooth enjoyable acrobatic exercise. He always worked as though several women were watching, as they often were when he went around the store, attending to this and that. They had eyes for his tallness, his broad shoulders, muscular arms, bull-shaped neck and compact buttocks. They always had discerning glances for the bulge of his dress, always putting their attention quickly to the root of the trouble, which was a result of his inability to buy the right-sized pants with enough room in the crotch.
Reuben took a quick drag on his cigarette as he looked at his watch. He always loafed (or fucked) away the better part of an hour up here on the roof when he first came to work at noon.
Part of that time was spent in making an inspection of the elevator machinery ... and introspection. Introspection could deliver up good things from his photographic memory. Things, like Cheryl Davies floating to the surface, became touchable, feelable.
He remembered Cheryl as a squeezing-good girl-a girl with curvy love-muscles, creamy skin, and a manner of taking her clothes off that made his crotch crawl just to think about it.
Still, she hadn't been hasty about it. She had been too smart to spread her legs before he had a real bulge on. She had always seen to it that he had every last inch of skin out before she took off all her clothes.
Hell, she'd had him on his knees-him, Reuben!
He had been confounded by her sexiness. Her up-tilted breasts, orchid nipples-some gals have got one come for a man just in their breasts alone. And her tits had tasted like sugar plums when he'd sucked them. And there hadn't been any make-believe in the way she'd giggled when he'd tongued her flanks, or pretending about the sensuous glow that swam in her eyes when he put hickey rings on her soft, warm legs. No-her flesh had jiggled and dimpled and blushed. And she might have been a virgin-she could make it that tight. She had moaned that loud, damning the size of his cock and the iron clamp of his arms while she'd held him, hard-sprung in her cunt, sucking for his come.
He could remember, vividly with his photographic memory, the throw of her head and hair, the twisting of her shoulders and the heaving sinuous movements of her torso.
There had been a long blaze of feeling going up his spine at the first arch of ecstasy. Then their breathing was a tornado and his hunching, iron-hard up and in was so intensely potent that he forced frenzy into her body and sharp cries of utter, ecstatic abandon out of her.
Her pagan keening had risen and reached a long screech like a mind-blowing jolt. He'd opened her hot flesh with the thick base of his cock.
Her breath had subsided, and for an instant she'd swooned. Then her legs had clamped his flanks, thighs a-quiver.
He had lunged, plunging the exquisite sparkle of their comes together.
CHAPTER NINE
"Nala lowered the book. She had a handful of my hair.
" "Think they're telling it like it is?' she murmured, obviously titillated in mind and body.
" 'It's good ... in spots!' I managed, between licks and kisses.
" 'Yes-I feel a hot spot coming up!'
"I hoped she meant more by this than what she saw coming up in the book because I had kissed and licked my way from breasts to crotch, and, at this particular moment of intimacy with her loveliness, I was tonguing the edge of her pubic triangle.
"The heat and smell of her body were intoxicating.
"Her inner thighs looked soft and inviting.
"She giggled and then her hand did go from my hair to my cheek. A few pats, but now-she began reading again...."
* * *
Yeah! Yeah! Reuben exulted over past ecstasies as he turned and walked through the summerhouse, grinning a kind of thank-you grin as he looked about the place. It had furnished him privacy and convenience for some very good times. And, oh, there'd be more!
I should get a vacuum up here and do the rugs, he thought, noting how dust flew around his shoes.
He went across the living room area, walking his fingers over the top of a small, ornate bar, making marks in the film of dust. The bar was placed to corner off an alcove and create a kind of den. In another alcove there were some dusty books scattered about ... and a sleeper sofa. Reuben gave the sofa a lick and a promise. He meant to use it someday. Then he went through the dining area to the butler's pantry.
The butler's pantry contained a refrigerator and a hot plate. He opened the refrigerator and checked the supply of beer he kept there and, noting that he had only three cans left, marked that fact on his eidetic memory, along with the intention of bringing in a six-pack the first evening he had the store to himself.
He went outside and walked along the west wall of the summerhouse, checking the fastenings on the hinged sections that let down to give a long, open view of the Rockies, grumbling under his breath when he found one section that had been loosened by the wind. These sections, when dropped down in warm weather, were just dandy for a view of the Rockies, all right, but hell, a big window would have done just as well. Who wanted to watch the mountains that badly, anyway? Hell, they were only eighteen miles away. They'd be there anytime he wanted to head his Chrysler towards them.
Some people put in too much time watching and talking! And Reuben had to admit that he was one of them. So was Carl Deale, his boss-asking about the summerhouse ... going out of his way to ask if it was closed and secure for the winter when all he had to do was get on the service elevator and come up to see for himself. Of course, Deale might be able to see all he wanted just by remembering. It probably didn't take a photographic memory to recall some of the beautiful broads he'd no doubt had on that sofa sleeper. Nymphos!
Once he had turned away from the summer-house, Reuben walked briskly across the twenty or so yards of flat roof to the small windowless building that housed the service elevator. He had just opened the outer door when he heard the elevator come up to the landing. He stopped, just leaning inside the entry, and closed his eyes, playing a blind man's guessing game with the identity. First, there was the tapping of high heels. Then he could smell it. Nobody's perfume preceded a woman like Lena Anderson's. But then, no one else's perfume got as hot as Lena's. Not passion hot-nervous, thirsty, alcoholic hot! He knew what Lena would want a drink or two or more-as many as he would give her. And she would play with his cock, get it hard in the hot cups of her hands until it was ready to have hiccups. She would suck it, too, if he would allow that. So far he always had ... and felt cheap about it afterwards. Keerist! Getting sucked off for a few drinks. Taking advantage of her alcoholism. Never putting a hand on her cunt. Never treating her to womanhood thrills.
He opened his eyes at her touch and welcoming grin . ...
CHAPTER TEN
"Nala groaned and slapped the book shut peevishly. 'I wonder how goddamned far it is t the next hot scene!'
"I felt like groaning, too. She had let me pa her thighs and rub the velvety lips of her cunt And now those lips were heavy and moist, wondered if they throbbed and tickled like mine did.
" 'Don't you ever scan?' I asked.
" 'And miss something good? No! Nettie, give me a cigarette.'
"I scrambled around towards the nightstand and, as I reached for the cigarettes, one of m knees went between her thighs. And it was still there after I had lit her cigarette. The other knee joined it. And I decided that I didn't want a cigarette. My hands were cupped tightly on the roundness of her thighs.
" 'You're in the right position,' she said lightly, blowing smoke into my face. 'So now what?"
"I thrust my cunt forward, displaying the knob of my overdeveloped Venus mound, trying to tease her and succeeding a little, I think.
"'Go shave that and then come back and we'll see!' she murmured, and resumed her reading, doing a repeat of the last she'd read. At least it sounded familiar, even from the bathroom, where I'd gone to look for a razor and shaving soap. I was taking her at her word...."
* * *
"Groff's off today!" Lena said, trying for nonchalance, but her voice slurred.
"You're pretty shaky!" Reuben observed, frowning at her, being unnecessarily rude and sarcastic. But Christ, she was shaking like an old woman with the palsy. She had told him once that she was twenty-five. He had seen her employment application in Personnel. It said twenty-two. But twenty-two or twenty-five, and with or without the shakes, she was a boyishly slender five-foot-four or five inches in height, had sleek hips, a small bosom and could have modeled a teenage boy's clothes except for one distracting element; she possessed a sexual charisma that a Miss America might have envied. But Reuben wasn't impressed. Who the hell could lay a charisma? Besides, she had another minus; he didn't like the worshipping expression she threw his way from her sad, shadowed eyes, or the neutral poker-faced way she complimented him with-"The girls all say you're the most!"-as though she wasn't a girl herself.
Hell, maybe Lena wasn't a she. He didn't know. He'd never had his hand on the right place to know for sure. It had always been her hands on him ... her idea ... her undoing his belt and unzipping his fly-
CHAPTER ELEVEN
" 'What the hell are you doing-playing with it?' Nala called.
"Her voice, thick with impatience and curiosity, fell on my ears like music.
'"Well, it takes time,' I demurred. 'My hair was long. I had to use the scissors first!'
" 'So now what are you doing?'
" 'Lathering!'
"Nala giggled. 'You darling! I'm not sure I meant for you to really go to all that! You do want to please me, don't you?'
" 'Of course I want to please you, you lovely dolt!' I whispered. 'I love you!'
""Then think about this: I'm not shaving close. There'll be enough bristle to make it feel like a big tongue!'
"Nala gasped. 'You crazy shit!'
T smiled. That was the first obscenity she'd uttered. I had her going. I lathered up again, spreading on the warm foam generously, taking my own sweet time, indulging the tickle of the soft camel's hair brush on my cunt. I was sitting on the lid of the stool, a thick bath towel under me, my feet up, legs bent, thighs comfortably parted. There was a mirror in front of me-I could see myself ... see the white skin, the part I'd already shaved and ... I could see that if it were red and veined I would look exactly like a man there ... a man with a thick short stub. I fashioned a gob of lather where the balls would be. Then I began shaving again, self-absorbed, fascinated, removing the hair farther down, revealing more of the stub. I paused often to feel and finger ... and apply more lather. I would go off if I didn't stop...
" 'Nala-you're so quiet! Are you having a cigarette?' I didn't want her to think I'd forgotten her ... or to have her forget me.
"'Yes.'
" 'Please go on reading! It will be awhile-'
" 'Ph-lit! Oh, doddammit!'
" 'What now?' I asked, absently. I was afraid, for I was feeling my clit. The soaping and brushing and unusual manipulation had increased its size and sensitivity.
" 'I dropped some ash on the book! It scorched a hole!'
" 'Literally a very hot book, huh?' Perversely, now that she was talking, I wished she'd shut up for awhile. It was difficult to talk through clenched teeth. And mine were clenched. The razor tickled me so ... everywhere around my cunt as I tried to finish shaving.
" 'You sound funny. I think you ARE playing with yourself!'
" 'I AM NOT!' I choked back a gasp of pleasure. The sound of jealousy in Nala's voice combining with the tickling in my crotch was almost too much. I put the razor aside and rubbed myself between the legs with both hands, coaxing up the tickle, spreading it out over my groin and thighs and belly an then pushing it back to the lips of my cunt, clamping it there with my palms, the ecstasy fizzing, ready to gush.
" 'Go on reading-I'm coming!' I called out to Nala, and winced a little at my choice of words.
"Nala gave an exaggerated sigh of resignation and began to read . ... "
* * *
"Lena-" Reuben went to her impulsively and put his hand in the small of her back, fingers planed in the crease of her butt as he urged her towards the summerhouse.
"Yes?" She scooted lightly ahead, her hand swinging back against his crotch, digging gent-
"Nothing." He leaned over and past her and opened the door. "I'm in a hurry, that's all!"
"It feels that way!" she snickered, still digging at his crotch as they entered the summer-house. Then she had him unzipped and her hand inside his fly.
"Ach!" he said, making his tone ugly, a hypocritically disapproving slap on the wrist; a self-righteous assertion of his proper mores before he succumbed to her queer attentions.
She had a way of pulling it out of his pants, with the deepest, sincerest kind of a woman touch and look! This always rendered him helpless. (Perhaps she knew.) And no matter how much she appeared to need a drink she always went through a preliminary ritual of phallic worship, dropping to her knees and pulling it all out, even his balls, which she fondled and kissed. Then, having seemingly given her promise with those kisses, she rose to her feet, ready for the whiskey.
It was odd, he thought, and sometimes wondered which was the most important to her doing this thing to him ... or the whiskey.
He never, never believed her when she said she loved him, which was a declaration she always made between sucks. That ... THAT, he was sure, had to be some internal gymnastics with her feelings-a squaring, an alibiing with pre-set mores or conscience.
His brains always went first when she sucked. In a way that was the best part, having all the caring, the restraints drained off, leaving only clear nerve lines from every part of his body, converging in the head of his cock. Already, and she had only kissed his balls, he felt somewhat weak in the brain as he went to get the whiskey. Already he was seeing that look she gave him, that, "I couldn't do this for anyone else" look. And he hadn't closed his fly. His cock was hanging out, long, lean and floppy, striking against his legs as he walked towards the butler's pantry, where he kept the whiskey hidden in a quart jar-all kinds, bourbon, scotch, rye-a kind of fairy fruit jar, an all in one elixir pinched from the stock the boss kept in his offices.
His cock was longer and getting the big-head when he came back with the whiskey. Lena grasped his cock first, then the quart jar, both near the neck. She kept squeezing both, too, as she took swallows of the liquor. His cock was sticking out from his pants when she handed back the jar. When he turned from putting the whiskey on a stand, she was on her knees flubbing his cock with her face. He could hear the meaty sounds as it slapped against her cheeks. The blood sang in his cock, stinging pleasantly.
"For crissakes, Lena!" he muttered hoarsely, distraught with a rage to spread her fuckwise and a reluctance to end the present pleasures.
She caught the tool at the end of a circular swing, put a strong, two-handed clasp on the root and pushed. He grunted as she unsheathed its full brute size.
Lena crooned possessively as she traced the swollen vein on top with her tongue, from the root to the tip. Then she sized the huge flaring head with her mouth, making a great stretched "O" with her lips, keeping her tongue thin and shaped at the bottom.
He groaned with pleasure as she enveloped-him, first the head and then the throbbing shaft, going down on him slowly to her capacity, making his ass buck as she fitted the velvet studs of her tongue to the sensitive underside. He felt the edge of ecstasy forming up ... too sharply ... too quickly, and cupped her face in his palms and pulled back, groaning as he broke the silvered thralls of warmth and suction.
She made a gobbling effort to retake the prize, but it bucked away, hugely swollen and spurting.
Lena looked up red-faced, accusing. "You weren't waiting for me!"
Of course he hadn't been waiting for her, but, "What do you mean?" he asked gruffly. He hated the half-assed kind of a come he had just experienced. Especially when he knew a good old-fashioned piece would feel so good. He looked at Lena's thin dejected figure and mentally undressed her, trying to warm his desire for her body.
"What do you mean-I wasn't waiting for you?" he repeated.
"You were too ready ... Why didn't you do your thing?"
"You mean work a crossword?"
"Yes!"
"Didn't have one handy."
He grinned suddenly and handed her the whiskey, stepping cock-close again. Lena was sharp in some ways. She knew about his photographic memory and his mania for crossword puzzles.
He waited for her to return the whiskey and then, afterwards, he didn't object when she began fondling his cock again ... not even when she unbuckled his belt and pulled his pants and shorts down ... and undressed herself, too, in a kind of absent-minded aside to the ceaseless fondling and sucking.
Upright on her knees, she still had to pull his cock down slightly to get the head into her mouth. He looked down past his huge shaft and her melon-sized breasts to a glossy brown triangle of hair gone wild with a spreading growth that reached almost to her navel. It was a sweeping tangled pasture of hair, a field for a man to go wild in ... bury himself to the balls in! It made up for her delicate skin and boyish figure. He pulled away, breaking her suck in order to rid himself of all his clothes.
Then he bent down for a better look. While he was at it, he carried her to the sofa, holding her in one arm as he jerked away the duster. Quickly, his breath keening with eagerness, he laid her on the sofa and bent down over her. He kissed her navel and licked out at the curling tendrils edging the field beneath, gazed at the soft flesh of her inner thighs ... stroking and parting them but not feeling in between-leaving that ... wanting to feast his eyes first.
Then he had her crotch open. He raised his head, looked down and saw the smallest cunt he'd seen this side of puberty.
His photographic memory lit up with a picture of a jar on the nightstand in his room. He should have that jar with him, but he didn't.
He got between Lena's slender thighs and lifted her legs. His cock jutted toward her slit and he groaned out loud at the incongruous folly of nature. After all, he had to fault someone, something.
His cock to her tiny cunt was like an arm to a ring, albeit a rubber ring. His breath caught. He had enough whiskey to anesthetize her.
He pushed up again, measuringly, denting her vainly with his largeness; then he sat back on his haunches, panting with frustration. It would take both jars-the whiskey and the vaseline.
"Why didn't you tell me?" he groaned, getting up to put on his clothes.
She got up, too ... smiling. She'd had enough whiskey to make her feel good. And she knew what he meant.
"Me and my big mouth-always using it for the wrong thing!"
"Yeah!" He looked at her sharply and she turned away, straightening her clothes and hair as she went to the door. His photographic memory had her mouth and cunt strangely in focus. The mouth was big and ... open ... and in front of the cunt. Protectively? Well, he'd see about that! He'd have both jars ready next time and-
CHAPTER TWELVE
" 'Oh, when are they going to start telling it like it is?'
"Nala slammed the book down just as I came out of the bath. I cringed and lost my fix on the idea that I, with my big pubic funny bone, could do her as much good as any man. I bent over as I entered the bright area of light near the bed, sheathing my equipment in my crotch.
"Once on the bed, I quickly pressed myself against Nala's leg and she looked at me suspiciously.
"'What did you do-castrate yourself?'
"Instead of answering I kissed the soft crevice between her arm and breast. Then I sucked her nipples and her eyelids drooped with enjoyment. Her fingers threaded themselves in my hair. She pushed down. I felt her thighs open. She left me there. The smell of her body was faintly musky. And sweet and clean ... and warm.
"I buffed the top of her cunt with my chin and felt the moistness of the inner lips. I blew my breath playfully through her hair.
"Her bosom tossed. She pushed quiveringly against my cheek with her thigh.
"I loved her!"
"I chinned her clit, smoothed the hair upwards towards her navel with my tongue.
"My body writhed upwards, too, wanting to cover all that soft rounded loveliness.
"She sighed fretfully, offering no embrace as I humped clumsily to get my knob against her cunt. I knew she had wanted me to kiss it, and perhaps I would yet....
"I bent down, put my cheek to hers, but she didn't respond. She wasn't going to acknowledge anything ... not this way-
"If I had been a man ... in love with her ... I'm sure I would have lost my erection. The affair would have fizzled then and there. But I-I was hot and had no shaft to temper.
"I bumped my bristled mound against her cunt and pushed until I could feel the heat and wetness around my pencil-sized clit.
"I lay against her, pushing. I didn't have enough for a stroke, but clenching my ass and rubbing my clit, squashing it in there between the lips of her hot cunt began to make it feel ten inches long and as big as a barrel ... a barrel of squirmy, shivery nerves.
" 'If Nala had done anything ... anything at all-even moaned, I would have come right away. But this way-it was like being alone. like masturbating. It was work ... almost. It took time and soon Nala didn't like it ... my patting and tittying. She tried to avoid my one-way kisses to her mouth. Soon her fingers were in my hair again, and by God, she was trying to push me down to her other lips!
"Maybe it was her gripping my hair that made me bow my neck and grind into her cunt. Anyway, I tried to hurt back and that set us off. We touched together in a smashing flaming cunt kiss. Her legs went up and her thighs flared open. She wanted me now ... what she could get ... and held herself right to get rubbed and bit and licked!
"We both came. Oh, it was nothing terrific. But we were stirred. And when we came back from the bathroom, I couldn't keep my hands off her ... especially after we'd had a smoke and she started reading again . ... "
* * *
Reuben inched his Chrysler up against the back fence, sure, when he felt the front bumper make contact, that the rear of the car was beyond the latticed roof of what his landlady so grandly called a breezeway carport, and therefore out of bombing range of the birds that nested above. "Reuben?"
"Yeah," he answered warily. A woman like May Larkin brought a bachelor's guard up. Christ-a poor unmarried woman with four young kids-who could tell when she might get ideas over and beyond government aid. And another thing, his instincts always jumped the gun when he heard her voice. He had to watch it.
He stood in the darkness, leaning against the car as he waited for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. He wanted a cigarette but the brief flash of a match would leave him blinder than ever ... and by God, as he stood there he knew that he had been aching to get next to a woman who was old-fashioned enough to want a man's cock shoved into the old-fashioned places. To hell with sensual vagaries and vignettes!
"May-where are you standing?" He took a few steps away from the car. There was no moon, but the stars were out. And he knew about where she usually stood. His hand touched the fence. Suddenly he could see her outline and his photographic memory did the rest.
May was a large woman-an armful anywhere one grabbed her ... an armful of sexiness and femininity. Everything that promised fulfillment. Even her cunt was a handful ... a pussy-soft hairy handful, and Jesus how she purred when he gripped and tweedled it!
"Oh, Reuben!" She reached over the fence and playfully touched his arm. (They always went through the bull and cow and a fence between sort of thing.)
Then he did light a cigarette ... and glanced at her face in the light of it. Sometimes she looked tired-and who wouldn't, jousting with social workers and taking care of four kids! But not tonight. He didn't think she was more than twenty-five and right now she didn't look that.
His gaze sharpened hungrily. Her lips were bowed and full. The upper lip was curled and sensitive but without petulance or scorn ... or bitterness. It was a kind of buttercup mouth that could fill and warm with sweetness and tremble with tears. Which reminded him of her way of giving-in ... sexually ... the way she let him roll her towards him in bed--full length, legs straight, yet pliant, without prudery or pretense. She just seemed to want it to start from prime beginnings, making him nuzzle her long blonde hair and kiss her under the ear and on the neck before she would let him kiss her on the mouth.
Then her pajama bottoms had to come off ... slowly ... inch by inch down over the loveliest buttocks he had ever patted.
And her pajama top! That was a button by button affair. But she didn't mind what he did with the slowly uncovered beauties. She didn't mind at all how he dived at them, forming the soft flesh against his face. She would even laugh, a soft flustered laugh, when he blew against her skin with his mouth, buzzing his lips and making a sound like a fart. And where her hands wandered to meanwhile! And what she did with them! By God, even as he was standing here, with the fence between, he could feel her hands sliding down his flanks, fingers walking, reaching his groin, massaging the hair roots, cuddling his balls, getting the elephant by the trunk-
"May!" His voice hit her name hard. "Mayyou coming over tonight ... now?"
Her hand came out to him again. "I could ... if you want me!"
"Jesus!" He put his hands under her arms and lifted her over the fence. Her bosom brushed the fire off his cigarette and he spat it out, laughing harshly as he patted and rubbed at the gorgeous lumps of her breasts, pretending her dress might be on fire.
Then he wanted her to talk so that he might read her mood, the way and heat of her rut. "May."
"Yes!"
He laughed foolishly. "Say something!"
Her head went up as though she sought a message in the stars. "It's half after, huh?"
"What're you talking about, May-the time of day? You think I'm fooling?"
She quivered with a giggling disclaimer. "YOU! I know YOU won't fool!"
Giggly or not, she was at ease. He was the tense one. Too worked up, still. Horny was the name for it. If he didn't take his pants off soon, he'd be breaking out through the zipper.
"But I did mean the time of day-sort of!" May added. "I went out to sit in the swing after getting the kids to bed and I'd put on my P.J.'s and not having seen a clock since, I wondered if you'd be terribly late. So you see, I wasn't making out that you're a man to be just fooling or half after some ... something!"
"You ramble!"
"Yes, I suppose I do ... when I'm excited!" He felt her sleeve. "I thought that was a dress!"
"Huh-uh! It's a robe over P.J.'s! As usual!"
"Oh-" he drawled, letting his voice get taunting, wanting to stop feeling embarrassed for her, knowing she must have waited hours, ready to go to bed-"I've always figured you for a case of arrested mental development! All this kid-raising you do!"
She pushed against him, laughing, making him take the warmth of her belly on his swollen crotch.
"But you wouldn't say I was underdeveloped otherwise?"
He caught the sensual purring that always came into her voice when their bodies touched. And the closer they got to the bed the more she would purr and rub against him, like a sleek female cat with two arm-tails to wind around him.
"No-and what would you say about me?" he joshed, taking her hand squeezing it down between them to free his crotch.
"Oops!" Her breath caught. "Why that's a shame!" She undid his zipper and went into his pants to free the log jam, purring and bemused as her fingers toyed with his hair and balls. She clucked with disbelief when she felt measuringly around the base of his cock to determine the angle of the hang up.
"What a bother!" she exclaimed. "It's in your pant's leg! I'll have to-" she unbuckled his belt-"take your pants down!"
She didn't touch it after it was free. Just stood looking down, her breasts tossing as her breathing picked up.
"Th-that's no garden hose!" she stammered.
"Fire?"
"Yes-a fire hose!"
"Who's got a fire?"
"I wonder!" She giggled, taking hold of the hose and pulled him towards the door of his basement apartment.
He jiggled along, gripping the top of his pants, not wanting to feel the tight warmth of her hand around his cock too much. A hose! she'd said. A fire! he'd said. Sure! Sure! But for crissakes the fire wasn't in her hand! Yet he couldn't help the incipient ejaculation. He ... just ... could ... not ... help it!
And he knew that she knew-knew that she felt it. Not much-not a jet of jizm. More of an overflow, a pent-up excess of tickle-trickle.
She rubbed it around, greasing his glans juicing him up, bringing back all the sharpness, all the tingling, potent edge.
"Dummy!" The sound of her voice went into his ear, blown there by her warm breath. Then she was kneeling, removing his shoes. His pants wouldn't come off otherwise, though he had damned nearly ripped off the cuffs trying.
"And you-you're so smart-getting knocked up, being on aid!" he snarled, trying to insult her-she was never better than when he could taste the salt of tears on her lips.
He got up and turned on a nightstand lamp. The light seemed to touch him as well as illuminate his nakedness. He leered and bucked for-ard lewdly, making an enormous shadow on the wall with his cock.
"Must yon show off?" She was still purring but it was fainter. She was fighting off his coarseness, beginning to be hurt.
"Sure-this is what you want, isn't it?" He shook his cock. "See-" he went close to her pushing her to a sitting position on the bed. "It's got a body, a head and an eye. Hell, why can't you be satisfied with having IT? Think of the money you'd save the government! Think of the uninterrupted fun!"
She reached for his cock and kissed it.
"That's a whorehouse trick!" he scoffed.
There wasn't any answer. There couldn't be, not when she had her face pressed tight to his gut, sanding out his navel with her tongue.
He played his fingers over the bright waves of her hair. It had spots of light golden color, he noticed. And now she began to lick and kiss and before long she would be sucking his cock.
"I had a whore once-a lewd, lusty bitch-she did just what you're doing ... and she did it better!" he taunted, knowing he lied ... about the better part ... knowing that the whore had been after his money; May was after his body. And now she was sucking it and he couldn't stand much of that. Didn't want to, in fact. Sucking made him come gritty, with an ass-full of ground glass. He liked to ride the long sensuous swells of May's body, puncture her flesh, thrust and feel the full hot envelopment. He wanted a woman's cunt-juice on his balls, not her spit.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
"Nala put the book aside. 'Why that Reuben son-of-a-bitch! Men!'
"I was sure that at this moment she had a purpose in being so vehemently against men and so in favor of women-so in favor of me. Certainly she could tell by looking into my eyes that if she kissed me on the mouth ... like a lover ... I would go first. I would put my mouth to her cunt. I think she had known this all along I think she liked to torture me. Her lips had cmel little curls in the corners. She enjoyed making me wait.
"Still, the time had not been wasted-and would not be, even if she read some more. The stories had stimulated her. Her cunt-lips were now full and voluptuous, and the clitoris, when I searched it out with my fingers, was up like a toy hard-on. I doubted that she had ever had it tongued and sucked. She would probably go for a walk on the ceiling when I did it.
"When I did it! When? When would she make love to me? I was desperate, but I wouldn't be shoved into making her happy. She had to help, but she read on and on...."
* * *
Rumination, Reuben admitted, was a habit with him as with most men who work alone much of the time, and this habit often crept around him, shutting him off, even when he was in the company of others. Even, sometimes, as now, when he was with a woman. Naturally, at these times he kept his intimate problems dusted off, so much so that he became downright analytical, which was all to the good, probably, except when the analysis turned negative and interfered with his enjoyment.
As now, for example, when he was guiding May towards the mood for a proper fucking-he shouldn't be thinking, no realizing-that things hadn't changed much for them on an intimate basis since their first meeting. She still disturbed him with her strange aura of arrested fecundity, temporary unfulfillment, still made him realize that he wasn't the only man on earth ... and she had four children of various complexions (none of them his) to prove it.
And undressing, May had never been a smugly private achievement, had never been an act of original discovery. Competition for her favors didn't end with simply bedding her. There was that which was reminiscent of previous experiences-the broadened capacious feel resulting from her pregnancies, her expertise, her waiting for a real hit.
He had to rough up her tolerance with harsh kisses and fierce practice feints. Even now, weeks deep into his affair with her, he had to drive himself to achieve a potent frame of mind and muscle, sweating out the intolerable feeling that one or more lithe-hipped, steel-muscled predecessors had out-cocked him and ravished her gorgeous loins beyond fresh fashioning. He had to rout the experienced bastard or bastards who had had horny groins against her warm pubic cushion and had flung huge, hairy balls into the dimple of her buttocks. He had to dislodge the tireless bastard or bastards who had tipped her up and left her, still shivery with waiting for a special muscular rhythm, a nuance, an exotic sensual apogee. He had to hang in there and re-teach and restretch her, give her the true, old-fashioned ten-count that, he hoped, would finally bring her come. For admittedly, he had no finesse-nothing except size and staying power. A smell, some kissing, a long humping and hunching was his way. And women had to like it or they could go to hell ... and drag him along, into the lingering limbo of inadequacy.
"Apogee!" he grunted, covering her and going to work.
"What?" she murmured. Her magnificent hips were moving. She was pulling him, quickly, sliding his cock up and down and sideways, like she was conducting a search. And she was bypassing the feeling. She wasn't reaching for ecstasy-she was reaching for another goddamned kid, a little more aid money in the cookie jar ... middle-age insurance.
"Apogee." He leaned forward to turn out the nightstand lamp and she took some more of him ... right up to the beginning of the big part of his stick, which they both knew, by actual measure, was as big as a thick section of her forearm. It made some women scream like they were giving birth.
"W-what does ... it mean?" She was dry-walled for the moment, hung up on what she had, twisting, grunting, sounding laborious and determined to furnish warm rich ground for planting.
He snapped off the light and settled back, butt between his heels, grimacing rudely and not answering as lie gathered the softness of her thighs into his arms.
Her face took shape in the darkness. He spread her legs and slid, waist deep, in between her thighs as he leaned down to nose the warm masses of her hair. lie sucked the lobes of her ears and tasted the rich creaminess of the skin on her neck and breasts. lie twisted her honeyed lips with rude kisses and pried open her mouth and made like a penis with his tongue. lie felt her moisten the ripe lips of her cunt with gentle come, felt a hot sucking, and he fell on her and shoved his arms under her buttocks, lifting, forcing a tight hair-grinding fit for his cock. Then he mashed the soft Venus mound and pressed in even deeper to spurt; and she seemed to feel that. She sighed with passive blissfulness and opened herself accommodatingly as his ecstasy streamed into her, pushed by the rock-hard tensing of his buttocks around his ass-hole.
Then she was hitting him for another come, rubbing her heat and slickness on him, spinning the tickle around on his groins and belly and halls until he was big ... big enough to do it to her whole crotch, big enough to make her scream, big enough to cruelly tear a cunt. Whose?
Whose cunt?
Not May's birthing chute.
Lena's cunt?
Lena suddenly cuddled herself onto the cells of his eidetic memory ... floated up, full-formed, nude. He looked at her small cunt and knew it would tear and stretch ... if he fucked her. He ruminated on that. Rumination would keep him potent, improve his staying power with May. Furthermore, he could see that with positively oriented sexual legerdemain, he might be given the possibility of fucking two women-the one on the bed, who'd had four kids, and the one in his mind, who kept squirming, trying to put her mouth where he wanted her ass.
Concentrating mightily, he found that, thanks to his power of photographic recall, he would be able to administer sexually to both-physically to Mary, mentally to Lena, provided he could get his cock started into Lena before he went off in May and ... also provided that he didn't get their names mixed up in the process.
So, motivating his butt with an in-and-out rhythm dictated by his primitive nervous system, he left his flesh basically at work in May and mentally took off after Lena. His brain could do this. His brain was wonderful. His brain could concoct-make him two-cocked.
And where would Lena go ... with her mouth so wide open? Why she would go where there was whiskey! To the store!
Of course he caught up with her at the door because it being after hours, the door was locked.
He had a key. But first he had to go to a public phone booth and call the burglar alarm people and tell them he was code number 42-33-39 and that he was going into the store on an emergency. Otherwise they'd come running as soon as the door was opened
He took Lena by the arm when he went to the phone, and still held her arm when they came back and went into the store.
He didn't bother with the elevator, mainly because he would have had to go down into the pitch blackness of the basement to get it. Instead they took the lighted stairway, pausing on each landing to breathe and stare around at the dim floor of furniture, bric-a-brac and pictures.
The store was exceedingly friendly. It exuded approval. After all, it wouldn't be rape. Lena woidd let him try. In fact, he would try her mouth on for size after she'd had a few drinks ... if he'd let her, which he wouldn't. He wanted none of her tricks tonight-no sucking.
He felt in his pocket. The jar of grease was there. Good old grain! There hadn't been any use leaving it on the nightstand for May ... May, Jesus, how she could time her pushes to his thrusts!
On the last landing, Lena began playing with his fly, stimulating his libido.
May chose that moment to whisper an endearment. "You're different tonight, Reuben! Bigger-stronger!"
Reuben relaxed his concentration just long enough to check on the validity of May's statement. He dropped one hand down between their crotches and ... by God, she was right! He had attained a throbbing hard-on-the kind that would go if he thought about it, so ... satisfied no brains were needed by the copulating beast he had become from the waist down, he mentally switched back to Lena, who, he found, had already reached the summerhouse and was searching for the whiskey-
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
"The bed was like a bower of flowers from the scents left on our bodies by the powder puffs that we had used when we were in the combination bath and powder room. So it wasn't because we needed to perfume ourselves that I suggested to Nala that we go to the bathroom again. No, I wanted to stand in front of the powder room mirror with her beside me. She had to be aware of my body there!
"'I don't have to go to the bathroom,' Nala murmured, stretching and lifting her beautiful torso lazily.
"My eyes hungered over her luscious curves and creamy skin, lingering on the golden tassel of hair on her Venus mound. Her thighs, where the most voluptuous I had ever seen And I had discovered that her skin had a special sheen and texture on the roundness of her inner thighs. The velvety texture invited the caress of my fingertips, my kisses ... my tongue. And her legs had a way of spreading so I could kiss my way into the glossy tendrils of hair and smell the utterly intimate warmth of her cunt, which she could move and pout and shape with a gentle dimpling twist of her thighs and buttocks.
T got to my knees and backed off the bed, aching with desire. 'We could have a smoke in there, too. Wouldn't have to be afraid of dropping ashes!'
" 'Oh, all right!' Nala sat up and slid to a sitting position on the edge of the bed.
"I caught my breath at the way her loveliness changed and renewed itself with every change of position or mood. The nightstand light, slanting across the front of her body, shadowed and deepened the cleft between her breasts, enlarging them. I winced. They looked almost maternal!
"I walked behind her into the bathroom and just before we reached the vanity mirror I flung my arms about her waist and pulled her voluptuous buttocks into my crotch. I pumped playfully, and when she leaned forward and grasped the edge of the vanity, I slid one hand down past my cunt and parted her buttocks. I stroked her lovely cleavage, pressing, fingering, wanting to evoke a sensuous response.
"She whispered, but so softly I could not catch the meaning. I bent forward and my free hand slipped up from her waist and formed itself hungrily about the soft firm globe of a breast.
" 'Old Daddy does that sometimes!' She whispered, more loudly this time.
" 'Does what?' I mumbled. My mouth was pressed kissing her back.
" 'Slicks his arm and makes like a horse between my legs!'
" 'I gasped. 'You let him?'
" 'Of course, Dummy! I like it!'
" 'Where-how do you do it?' I was fascinated.
" 'In the shower, as a rule-when we're soaped!'
" 'Soaped! I could make some shaving lather. The brush tickles-'
" 'Oh, it does?" Nala giggled. 'I knew you were playing with yourself in here!'
"I giggled too, as I went for the shaving mug. When I turned around to come back, Nala was sprawled on the long vanity bench, her legs parted.
" 'Did you use hot water?' Nala was staring at the head of lather I had worked up in the mug. " 'Yes!' I put a dab on my arm. It's nice and warml' I waited for her to come towards the shower stall, but she didn't move.
" 'We'll do it here-in front of the mirror!' she said, watching me.
" 'Oh!'
"I went to her and knelt down. She moaned sensuously as I applied the lather. I put it on slowly, first using long strokes the length of her cleft, then across, taking in some of her thighs and groins, then in whorls. I started the whorls big and circled in, winding up with the semi-stiff hairs of the brush tickling her clit. She went wild over this, undulating and twisting and bucking up to feel more of the brush. Finally, she sprang off the bench and snatched the shaving mug out of my hand
" 'Stretch out your arm!' she demanded hoarse-
"When I complied, she covered it with lather from elbow to wrist. Then she said: " 'Make a fist!'
"I clenched my hand and she covered that with lather, slapping it on in a kind of frenzy that made me a bit numb to watch. Yet I could see that this was the kind of lewd love-play that she liked. When she went to replace the shaving mug, she walked with her thighs tight together, obviously delighting in the slick, gliding sensation. '
"She came back and positioned herself sideways in front of the mirror and motioned me to get in back of her. Then she bent forwards slightly and looked in the mirror.
"Apparently satisfied, she said, 'Put your elbow against my groin and hump a little-make it look like a cock. Yes-that's it. Now FUCK me!'
"If I had been a man, looking at that voluptuous backside, I would have gone crazy. As it was, I bucked my lathered fist at the tiny hair bit of her cunt showing between her thighs. The head, I began to think of my fist as that, made a deep, warm hollow for itself.
" 'Harder! Fuck me!'
"Nala was watching the mirror, and I turned to look that way, too. The size of the shaft, the way it spread Nala's buttocks, the suggestive thrusting motion of my body-were all combined and reflected by the mirror and somehow injected back into our bodies as a sexual stimulant.
"Nala's face was rapt. She clasped the head to her belly when it came through, riding my shaft. Our breathing went into the swift rhythmic sweep of climactic passion.
" 'Faster!' Nala urged
"I felt something clutching at my clit and, looking down, saw that it was my own hand, my own fingers bunched around my cunt, squeezing the clit into Nala's cleavage.
"I felt Nala quiver. She minced and jiggled and rolled the shaft until she had the hard ridge of the hone in her slit. She bore down, riding her clit. I saw the flash of my body in the mirror as I ground up to her butt. She straightened, screaming as she turned and clasped me.
" 'Do something!' she demanded, fiercely pushing her cunt against mine.
"I sank my arms and hands into her buttocks, clasping her close.
"'I'm coming-oh-oh! Please help me!' she cried.
"I drew back, put my hand down and closed it over her cunt. She sighed ecstatically then stiffened and put her hand on my cunt.
" 'You haven't really come yet!' I whispered. I could feel only a slight slick warmth.
"She was leaning, with her head forward, hips withdrawn. I was trying to masturbate her anyway-trying to get her to do the same to me when the phone began ringing.
" 'Oh, shit!' Nala disengaged and grabbed a towel. She wiped herself quickly and slipped into a robe.
"I went through approximately the same motions after she left. My body felt heavy, my skin strangely thick-creamy and thick with unsatisfied desire. I opened my robe and rubbed the front of my body. The touch of my fingers sent thrilling streams of sensuous feeling into my crotch. I scooped the feeling downward from my belly and upward from my thighs, pressing the exquisite tingle into the hair roots. I fingered my clitoris. I began to masturbate, and continued until I was near to a climax-near enough to achieve a kind of independence from Nala.
"Nala was still talking on the phone as I came out and laid down on the bed. She was speaking very softly. I couldn't have heard her anyway, so I took up the book and began to read...."
* * *
"Reuben, I love you! I really and truly love you!" May's voice caught him at the summer-house door. It was frustrating to have to stop because he knew that Lena might find the whiskey. He didn't mind if she drank a little, but he didn't want her drunk-not right away.
May whimpered again for attention. He patted her curvaceous thighs, stroked her sleekness and wet-mouthed her breasts. He almost forgot himself. God, she did possess a magnificent body. She deserved some of his undivided attention, especially since she wasn't used to taking as much cock as had sprung from his body tonight. There were inches of massive shaft still to be fucked away. He bore down, making her groan and writhe and complain with pleasure. Then he withdrew his attention and skittered back to Lena. And just in time! A little longer with May and he would have come away with a head on his cock that could never have been forced into Lena, all his whiskey, grease and mad desire notwithstanding!
"Come here, Reuben ... darling!"
Lena was waiting for him in the area between the living room and the butler's pantry.
The lights were on and Reuben didn't need to look beyond her big dark eyes to know that she hadn't found the whiskey.
As soon as he was near her, she fell to her knees and began her phallic worship routine by unbuckling his belt and unzipping his fly. He allowed this, even helped with it, because he wanted to undress. In fact, he felt undressed already. And she'd be next ... after he'd given her a few drinks.
He was naked when he pulled his cock free of her clinging mouth She had scarcely stopped to kiss it because, as she'd remarked, it was already very large and hard.
Sure it was large and hard! My God-he couldn't hold out on May forever!
May pulled at him as he was going to the butler's pantry to put the whiskey away.
"Reuben, Reuben, Reuben!" she panted. "It's stuck!"
"Stuck?" His whole body was being laved in a delicious sensation.
"Yes-yes! Oh, darling-it's so-so stubborn!"
"Aw!" It wasn't that he really cared to free his tool-the hot seething clamp of her cunt around it was sheer bliss-but he ducked his hips back and forth tentatively, out of curiosity at first, then with more fervor.
May moaned and raised her legs still higher. "Use some of that stuff from the jar!" she implored. "Or pull the lips apart!"
He pushed her hands away. She was squirming this way and that, trying to do it herself.
"Wait-let me!" he demanded. Yet when she acquiesced, he hesitated. If he slid into her cozy heat any further-He could feel his balls drawing up into his groins. The volatile rapture in his crotch was spreading upward crazily, getting close to the libidinal spark that would ignite it into ecstasy.
He touched his fingers to the taut lips of May's cunt. Some of her hair had been pushed inward and caught. May moaned, but the movement of her buttocks was gentle, unctuous. He could guess how she felt-her loins split with pain and pleasure, waiting to be torn asunder.
He fingered the taut lips of her cunt a moment longer, then he clenched his buttocks to give her another heavy inch.
He left her. He could hear her mouthing honeyed endearments. But he knew that she and he were on the very shining edge. So he hurried back to Lena, picking up the whiskey once more from the butler's pantry as he went.
Lena had taken off her bra and panties while he'd been gone. Reuben feasted his eyes on the wild pasture of hair beneath her belly as he handed her the jar of whiskey.
He stepped close and, without touching her with his hands, rooted his cock around in the soft glossy masses, pushing at her crotch and making her spill some whiskey. She was choking when he took the jar from her and set it on a table. Then suddenly she was pressing herself against him and sliding down, kissing as she went.
"No-none of that!" he said gruffly, and put his hands under her arms and jerked her to her feet. He handed her the whiskey again.
She took the jar with shaky eagerness, but managed a long jolt without spilling any. Her large, dark eyes swam for a bit, then cleared and brightened. They thanked him beautifully.
She put out a hand to touch and pat his flank; then she took his hand and slapped it against her thigh and buttock.
T'm awfully thin, aren't I?" She pulled at the whiskey again
He nodded, scowling as he put his big hand around her hip and pressed his thumb to the point of the bone.
"Just a piece of a woman!" he muttered.
"But the right piece, I hope!
He shrugged.
"How does it feel to be-to be so much?" She fondled his cock for a moment and then drank from the jar again.
He took the whiskey away from her, half angrily, and put it on the floor, back out of reach.
"You have plenty of feeling for that stuff!"
"I wish I didn't. I'd rather have this!" She was sizing his cock with her fingers, cupping the huge head in her palm.
Mollified, he buffed her breasts with his forefinger until he had her nipples out. "They're so picayune!" he marveled. He bent down and sucked the orchid buttons laughingly.
She tensed. "You think I'm a joke!"
He frowned uncompromisingly, still eyeing her saucy, provocative breasts. He sprawled his fingers over her Venus mound an J bunched a quick handful of soft, springy hair. He grunted appreciatively. "Well, if you are a joke, you're on me!
She gave a gasping sigh and he tightened his hold, squeezing his fingers closed on the lips of her kid's cunt. He grunted again-this time charged with surprise. She had the largest, hardest clitoris he had ever felt!
She managed to writhe free and run to the sofa. He followed slowly, his long cock swinging from side to side
She sat down as he approached and formed her hands into a warm cup for his balls.
He stood bow-legged, letting her play, watching his balls move under the thick, hairy skin as she massaged and tickled.
"This treatment's going to get you something," he warned. His cock throbbed and bucked.
"I know!" She sank back and stretched out, emitting a troubled sigh.
"You do?" He gazed down at her doubtfully, taking in her whiteness, her thinness. "Wait-I'll get you another drink!"
"God, May-shall I do it?" he whispered as he crossed the floor. May gripped his cock in a juicy muscular contraction and he felt a series of joyous strangling holds around the neck of it as he bent down to get the whiskey.
He hurried back to the sofa. Lena was sitting up. She took a deep quick drink and fell back. Her eyes were languid and ready.
Reuben put the whiskey on the floor and got the vaseline.
He sat on the sofa greasing her cunt in much the same manner he might have used to grease her chest.
He was liberal with the vaseline.
She relaxed and responded. The small lips of her cunt ripened gratefully between his fingers. Her clit became hard and dominant.
He slicked the luxuriant hair upward on her belly, getting it to shine and behave. Then he slipped the tip of his middle finger into her cunt. There was tightness, moistness and a spasm.
His cock bucked eagerly.
He vented a hungering sound and got onto the sofa, ramming prodigiously even before he had Lena's thighs hugged to his hips. And his cock found her cunt before his eyes did ... found it and raped it, head-deep, before there was time for pity.
Or a scream.
He groaned.
"Reuben ... make me come! I'm ready! Darling."
It was May. He bent down, sucked and nuzzled her breasts blubberingly. His cock sparkled like white-hot metal. May's fingers traced the ridged muscles along his back She was making a sound. It was soft, like cooing. It coaxed him. Taunted him. Loved him. Waited for him-
"Lena-May!" he blurted, ready to burst. The two women were merging, had their heads together, their torsos. Big tits ... little tits. Voluptuous thighs-a hot nympho. He was up to his balls in one; to the big-boning part in the other.
He lunged, heard a shuddery scream.
Lena! Lena!
The closer the bone, the sweeter the meat! He lunged again ... and blasted the black void of the world with a long stream of pearly piss. He cried out hoarsely, like a dying man, and beat his body at the satin-lined bottom and top and sides of a form-fitting coffin full of ecstasy.
May washed Reuben and toweled him dry. Rut she wasn't fussing for more. Maybe he'd given her a fair bellyful, for once.
"What was that magic word?" she asked curiously.
"Magic word?" He'd smoked his smoke and was ready to drowse off.
"Yes-ap-something or other!"
"Apogee." He yawned. Too many women.
"Yes-what does it mean?"
"Well ... it's like when something's in orbit. It means very far out, in fact the farthest. The highest point!"
"Like a climax? like ecstasy?"
"Yeah."
May was silent and motionless for a moment or so, then she kissed him. "Reuben, I don't believe I've ever really made an apogee before!"
Reuben opened his eyes. She'd never...! Why goddammit, he thought-After all, with four kids, one would think-What about those lithe-hipped bastards?
Rut what he thought troubled only the edge of his sleep, his dream, his marvelous concocting brain. He was in orbit, hitting an apogee with a whiskey sour-no, not a whiskey sour. It was a fistful of Lena's hair that he had in his hand-
* * *
"I looked up from the book, unable to go on reading. Nala had finished at the phone. She was smoking, her face turned away from me. I waited, not really alarmed. Just vaguely uneasy. Then she got up and approached the bed and I felt myself blanch. She was haggard, distraught. She sat down on the edge of the bed for an instant then jumped up and walked the floor.
" 'Nala!' I said gently, trying to break into her mood and deal myself in on whatever it was that had smashed her completely. 'Nala, tell me-what's wrong!'
"She gave a hard little laugh, stopped and turned towards me. 'I just had a message!' she blurted. 'From Old Daddy! He's dead!'
" 'Dead' I screamed. 'But he can't be! Not if you got a message!'
"Nala nodded dolorously. 'He's dead, all right. And I did get a message!'
"I was awed Even the mention of death awes me. And I was repelled. Nala's face was so cold and selfish. I was suddenly glad that it had felt so good to finger my own clitoris there in the powder room. I began to feel detached from the present tableau, with its overtones of mystery and incredibility. This kind of stuff put sex to sleep and I didn't want sex to sleep. I was at the point of being openly rebellious with Nala. She'd played around with me too long.
" 'Well, he can't be too bad off, now can he-if he was able to call?' I queried peevishly.
" 'No-he's not bad off at all ... now ... not really. The doctor said he went peacefully.'
" "Then it was the doctor who called and ... Old Daddy really is ... gone!'
" 'Yes ... gone but not gone. There's the result of my pregnancy test ... and the rest of the message!'
" 'Are you out of your mind, Mrs. Acerton? What test? Rest of what message?'
' 'I'm pregnant! That's what the doctor said! And isn't finding that out like getting a message from Old Daddy? Wasn't it his live sperm in me that did it?'
'"Oh, Nala ... Mrs. Acerton!' I was off the bed, sympathy welling up in me despite myself. I wanted to comfort her. But she pushed me away.
" 'Leave! I want to be alone!'
"Everything for me was gone from her eyes. She looked bitter and confused ... and, and pregnant! The kindest thing I could do would be to take her at her word and leave.
"I tugged at my robe and pride and scooted to my room, still carrying the paperback sex book."
Third Tongue of Sex-A Book
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
"My loins swarmed and stung as I reread the last, the big going-off paragraph. I read forward and backward and in between. I made up words, began living the part:"
Lena! Lena! The closer the hone the sweeter the meat. May! Oh, May! Your voluptuous ass-oh! ... Reuben hunched and gushed. The ecstasy was like a knife-a kind of castration, with unseen fingers rooting and grouting his balls
"I read myself into the print, hungrily scanning the several blank pages in the back of the book, trying to make more come ... and I began to wonder ... wonder why, if Reuben could have a woman on the bed and another on the brain, why couldn't he have still another ... ME ... on those seductively blank last pages. With this in mind, I sprawled voluptuously on those white, empty sheets, as naked and hot as his other women, and invoked him by rubbing my breasts and belly and crotch, smashing him with a writhing torso and a throbbing cunt. And finally he did arrive to join me in my dream, but with a problem. He was tired. Temporarily impotent. It had been quite a night There were things he needed. like a drink and a shower. And since I didn't want to waste any time, I saw to it that he was getting undressed as he drank a highball. In only a minute or two he was swaggering towards the shower, clad only in shorts. I started to follow, even began to remove my robe. Then I remembered the freakish state of my cunt. I walked back and forth past the shower entrance, afraid to go in, afraid to let him see my shaven mound, afraid he would guess I'd been trying to play man and laugh me out of sexual existence.
"I opened my robe and looked down, hating myself. The shaved part looked ugly, scalped. I'd be better off without any hair. That was a thought. I'd heard that a woman looked very sexy when she was smooth shaven. It made her cleft look like a deep luscious dimple. I had an electric razor-I could get the rest of the hair off. And, I decided, I would let him see me do it. That way he would know it was on purpose. . may be a habit like doing my legs.
T sailed on past the shower, keeping my eyes sternly toward the front, wanting to keep everything cool and casual until I was shaved and shorn and ready to make love.
"There was an outlet for my razor near the vanity so I went directly to it. It was then that I saw his shorts on the bench. Well, I thought, licking my lips, he will have to come out completely nude!
"I quickly sat down and went to work on my bedraggled crotch, struggling not to work myself up with anticipation. I remembered that I had achieved an independence of sorts from Nala by lathering and shaving-detaching myself from reality with self-titillation, as it were. It might be well to recreate that mood again. Then if Reuben didn't like my looks, I wouldn't be so hurt.
"The electric razor tickled more than a safety razor! Without lather there was a stronger pull on the skin. The nerves had a chance to bunch and wait. They began to sing with desire, especially near the top of the cleft, close to my clit.
"I was out of hair before the water stopped running in the shower. Rut I kept going around and up and down with the razor head. The gentle buzz of the machine departed a titillating vibration to my clit, lengthening and hardening it to such an extent that I momentarily expected it to part the lips and show itself.
"But I wasn't so absorbed as to be unaware that the water had stopped running in the shower. Nor so given over to looking at myself in the vanity mirror that I couldn't direct some attention to the shower door, which was also visible in the mirror.
"If I kept my present position, facing the mirror, I'd have the advantage when he came out. I'd see his dong-dong before he saw my breasts and cunt. And I supposed he'd come forward as quickly as possible for that very reason ... if he guessed I was watching him in the minor. Here I saw the possibility of having control over the situation. A chance to tease a little. If I wanted a glutton at the love feast, I'd have to get him hungry first.
" 'Feeling better?' I presumed he was toweling, now that the shower was off.
" 'Yeah-what are you doing? Shaving your legs?'
"Oh, yes! There, and other places."
"The more you shave, the more it grows, huh?
"I started. I hadn't thought of that ... but decided to lie. Yes, that's why I shave ... all over!'
" 'You mean ... between your legs?'
" 'U-huh!' I answered, striving to put some sexually flavored come-hither tone into my voice. 'Right now I'm a complete baldy! Never had much hair. Rut I'm getting more now ... each time it grows out!'
""Well, I have so much I'm never completely nude, but could you toss me my shorts, anyhow?'
"'Why-uh'-I flipped his shorts off to one side-'you can come out and get them. I've got my back turned!'
"I was sneaking looks into the mirror when he came out. He took one look at my back and boldly cock-flopped his way across the floor to where his shorts lay.
"And o-h-h! The paperback hadn't done him justice! He was one beautiful man, but with a rugged, ugly, insolent face that I wanted to straddle and muff and, and inhibit, I guess. Because his virility stunned and repelled me. He was ... almost too much, a cut bigger than the best I had ever worked on in the massage parlor, which had boasted wrestlers, boxers, and mus-clemen among its clientele His cock was long, his balls bigger. And the thick, tight curls of glossy hair on his broad, muscular chest, belly and groin made him look primitive, arrogant, and sexually overpowering.
"He made me feel like the inferior part of a sexual mismatch. I hardened my buttocks defensively, clenching the flesh against my ass-hole and cunt. He saw the quivery movement and smirked. He hadn't taken his eyes off my body since coming out of the shower. Now, obviously, he had no intention of putting on his shorts. They were still right where I had tossed them.
"So far, so good! I was flattered! But: "'How about another drink?" I asked, counter-baiting. "There's whiskey in the bedroom on the nightstand!'
"I wanted him to get out of my sight-oh, just temporarily, of course. He was overwhelming me with his ... possibilities. Sex, I counseled myself, was a woman's stage. A man was only a rigid crotch prop. Thus I reassured myself as I watched him leave. In my heart I hoped he was returning to the bedroom because he knew I wished it, though suspecting his motivation was more probably the whiskey, the bed . . and his own supreme certainty that I would soon join him as a groveling, cock-kissing blob of warm female flesh whose only purpose in life was to please him.
"And he was right. I did get onto the bed and spread my warm, willing female fleshiness against him. I did my damnedest to furnish him with a hot faceless blob to puncture.
"I had no illusions that he was taken with my facial features, which, though pretty, were nothing to excite a man's libido.
"No-I was pushing my lower stuff. The big, soft-skinned thighs. The ample butt.
"If I could only get him to clasp my big rounds!
"However, I saw that before this could happen I'd have to somehow rid him of the lethargic consequences of his two recent paperback intimacies.
"Rising up on one elbow, I watched him blow a few lazy smoke rings. His eyes were half closed. He wasn't warding me off. Neither was he inviting me! I was on my own.
"Well, I knew how to tease and titillate! My tenure as a masseuse in a massage parlor had not been for nothing. My carefully acquired technique was to leave the most important thing for the last-the piece de resistance.
"I looked a this piece de resistance, this most important thing, this hollow flap of love flesh, this ecstasy potion.
"It was draped over his thigh, incredibly long and pendulous, like the focal object in a Salvadore Dali painting.
"My first impulse was to give it mouth resuscitation. I also wanted to play with his balls. But I postponed indulging myself in these pleasures. I had one rule of thumb where a man's cock and balls were concerned: I always neglected them until they became very sensitive."
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
"Reuben suddenly cupped my face in both his hands and literally stretched my spine as he pulled me up for a hard, lip-twisting sweetheart-type kiss. He mashed my lips back into my mouth and I felt the effects course down my throat, through to my cunt, where they tumbled about and caused a joyous spasm.
"I kissed him back, putting my tongue into it for more effect and was rewarded by the first stirring of life in his cock. It jerked and lengthened slightly, somewhat like a cold snake emerging into the warm sun.
"At this point I must confess that a man's kisses put me in heat. I experience a strange inversion of the nervous system. I felt his kisses, not on the mouth, but on the lips of my cunt. A kissing man, especially a tongue kisser, makes me wildly romantic. I blubber. I turn to putty. My thoughts go far afield. Literally, I'm in clover! I become ecstatically conscious of the feeling of his strong arms around my body. I slip up and down, steady and unafraid, or I lean close and allow him to adjust the billowy mass of my brown hair into a tight, madonna helmet. Afterwards I want him to pause and gaze into my eyes, hungrily, then lower his arrogant head. I want to feel the sweet ruthless search of his mouth sinking into the soft waiting curve of my lips. I want him to push all the delicious desire that is on them deeper and deeper until a glorious delirium races through me. Softly, without effort, I want my arms to creep up about his neck as I answer the vibrant call of his love. My hands will probably seek to go through his hair, tenderly. I'll whisper love phrases, and think how futile words are to explain the racy joy that can sweep one along....
"And now, suddenly, I realize that I'm getting too far ahead, that Reuben' kiss was only preliminary-actually, only tentative. Forgetting everything I had learned in the parlor, I had gone impulsive. That's what one kiss could do to me!
"I took quick refuge in brusqueness. I got over him without further ado and began rubbing my breasts back and forth across his face, stopping now and then to let him suck the nipples. Then I straddled him, not all in one motion, but flowingly, sliding the weight of my thigh across his belly and then following with my crotch, pushing and rubbing my hair against him where I expected to find his cock. But it wasn't there. It hadn't hardened that much yet.
"I had it firmly in mind to do no more mouth-to-mouth kissing until he had achieved an erection. I clasped his wrists, holding his arms away from his sides as I began what my coworkers at the parlor had named the 'Across-the-Lake treatment. This is a kind of rowing motion, during which I swoop forward to press my breasts, stomach and crotch to the areas about a foot out of alignment with similar spots on my client's body. Then I rub downward, clamping my thighs to the man's side and doing all else to sensuously brush as much skin surface as possible.
"This usually brings an erection. If it doesn't, I go to the next treatment. I drop down and suck the flaccid organ into my mouth. In Reuben's case, I didn't really give the 'Across-the-Lake' movement a fair trial. I wanted to suck his cock because many men won't kiss a woman on the mouth after she has sucked him. In this regard I was only doing that which seemed sensible-taking the measure I had at hand to avoid any resumption of my romantic silliness.
"But this maneuver came to naught. A kiss was Reuben's way of thanking me for helping him attain an erection. As before, he pulled me up and kissed in a way that made my clit twitter. Instantly, I became the romantic fool. My lips thrilled and throbbed with the sweet sting of his hard kiss. He held me, marveling at the change that had swept over me.
"He was cradling me in his arms, looking down at the flushed beauty of my face. I felt the hot color in my cheeks draining down over my neck and breasts. He sucked and nuzzled my nipples with rough tenderness, enjoying my best sexual feature. Of course I was proud of my cunt, too-especially of my lush Venus mound. When he put his hand down to feel of that, my cheeks became even hotter, and I lowered my lashes to conceal my anxiety. What would he think of my hairless cunt?
"His fingers explored and squeezed. He gave my clit a practiced, promising twitch.
"I could feel his heart pounding against the pulsing sensitivity of my breasts. Then he was cradling me in his arms again, his arrogant head sweeping down, his hard, hungry mouth finding my lips with another thrilling poignant kiss.
"Pressed close to his long, wide-shouldered body, exuding superb masculinity, I experienced again the overwhelming power of his personal attraction. It pervaded me with a soothing, vet weakening force, drugging my professional know-how and supplanting it with impulsive, involuntary modes and moods. And to lend more whimsy to my distraction, I was transported into a magic land of dreams-come-true, wherein I found it easy to believe that the man was really and truly getting that way about me!
"I looked at him, stroked his flanks, allowing our emotions to coast since, as I thought, they were going my way. I wanted to be able to commune with myself later on, when I was alone again. I wanted to have something on file other than the stud-horse facts of his body. Sure-he had a ten-inch cock! Physically, he was a very beautiful specimen. But were these outward things the only attributes that made him so attractive to women? Mv intuition said no; it said emphatically that he possessed something more uncommon than these-probably a quality as indefinable as the essence of charm itself.
"His ability to rouse rebellious anger in me was no longer anything to puzzle over. I saw the why of it clearly. My reactions had been strictly defensive. Through them I had been fighting to keep from bowing to him such shameful, sudden eagerness.
"Now, half afraid that he might sense my helplessness or feel and misread the reason for the tumultuous thudding of my heart, I stiffened and withdrew slightly.
"He was instantly aware of the change in me and made some bantering remark about my not being very nice to him. He made it sound like I was only pretending!
"His remark was a slur on my deeply sincere and romantic intentions; it was like a direct thrust into my unusually sensitive mood, seemingly delivered with knowing cruelty of purpose-namely, to draw a harsh line of demarcation between what he wanted from me and my own pretentiousness. He wanted no satin frills. The thrust of his desire was straight from the loins, not the heart!
"The worth of romantic ardor was on trial!
"And I was its defender!
"I was its defender sans armor or ally! For clothing is the armor of romance and a not TOO private place its forte. A bed and nudity are complete capitulation to sheer physical necessities!
"Goodbye, then, ROMANCE? No. I had my professionalism, which at first sight seems a strange intermediary. Yet with it, with the tender, clever ministrations of my craft, I might make a lover out of a stud horse.
"Obviously, his crude, cruel, coarse passion had to be fired to a white hot heat, refined. He would have to hunger in vain for a time-to suffer. That's what love was all about!
"For a long moment he looked with wonder at the radiant glory he saw well up into my eyes. It was a flawless light, a light that is called forth by only one thing in the world. Love! Love of a woman for a man!
"I moaned and went weak with desire as I felt the expected size of his big cock pressed against my stomach. Feeling forlorn and regretful at this turn of events, I lay beneath him, wondering at the quickness of his arms, deciding not to detain him much longer. He had waited. Suffered.
"His strong, ugly face came close, his eyes darkening with tender sympathy. I felt a thrill. I had brought this wondrous change about! Vibrant, intoxicating currents raced through me, seeking out and awakening egotistical, unworthy emotions. I was agog with my own power. I forgot to be properly grateful for the way he was holding me-so closely and carefully, almost caressingly...
"My eyes, their radiance, coyly and deliberately veiled by my long curling lashes, held his. I was awash with romantic license.
"I felt the muscles in his shoulders leap and harden. Suddenly his lips were on the full, red sweetness of mine in a kiss of rapturous intensity. A glowing delicious warmth suffused me.
Dazzlingly, the reality of our nude bodies merged with my dearest dreams. I found the courage to tell him that I loved him and proved it by kissing my way down to his groin and taking his cock into my mouth. It was larger now, but still not yet stiff. When I lifted my head to release it, it fell over onto his thigh. I ran my tongue along the pencil-sized tube on its underside and nuzzled his balls, making the muscular skin of his bag pull and pucker.
"Why didn't he move? Why didn't he tongue my cunt?
"I looked up to his face, saw his eyes and was rebuffed by the shadowed glints in his eyes. I flung myself upward, thrusting my warmth and softness and ... love against him.
"I knew I wasn't going to give a damn about romance once he got his big cock into me, not if I couldn't hold onto one or two fragrant roses now. He lifted me up and put me astride his hips. I was no more settled there than I felt the slap of his cock against my buttocks. On a sudden starting impulse of love, I raised myself and slid down, grasping his cock in both hands as soon as I could reach it. I put it between my lips and sank downward upon it as far as I could.
"He groaned and bucked his hips. I knew the sounds and motions well. He was asking me to suck him off. I hesitated. He looped an arm around my buttocks and pulled them up, spreading my legs until he could kiss my cunt. I began sucking and we soon had a supremely physical thing going. But I knew it was going to be over too quick to really count. I believed I would get another chance with romance.
"I told him he was sweet-that his teeth hadn't hurt as he'd dug for my clitoris. He laughed and told me that he hadn't expected to find a head on his cock when it came out of my mouth.
"His breath was hot on my cheek as he spoke v and a fierce rush of restlessness went through me when he began squeezing my cunt, getting me ready for another heat.
'. 'I drew a quick shuddery breath and gave him a small smile. Wasn't the gentleman going to demand an explanation for the way he was being detoured around a real fuck, I wondered. But wait! Wasn't his manner becoming a trifle more possessive. Weren't his eyes lingering on the soft, alluring lines of my body with increased affection, if not outright love?
"My obsession with romance faltered until the remembrance of Reuben's kisses flowed back to remind me of the honeyed feeling it awoke between us. I had glimpsed something in his eyes, a concentration of desire, a hungering for one woman-ME-out of all the women in the world. At that one moment he had wanted me ... only me ... one way or another.
"I couldn't evade the sudden quickness of his arms. I went limp within their sudden circling roughness, and for a long second I felt his hard mouth pressed hungrily against my lips. I broke away finally and huddled on the edge of the bed with my back to him.
"Too late, I realized my position might lead him to believe that I wanted it in the ass. Suddenly I was shaken and numb and terribly afraid ... he had such a way of scrambling my dreams.
"I shuddered as he draped a heavy arm across my thighs, then curled his hand, wrist, and forearm around my stomach and drew me into his crotch, into a position that I hated because the little inch between the one place and the other was a million miles. His cock was hard now, filling the long crease between my buttocks. Why did it have to be so hard and ready now, I wondered miserably, with me in the fix I was...
"I tried to straighten my legs, but his were close and holding. I was bound, frozen fast to him for homosexual buggery. I heard him utter something about being sociable. Then I felt his cock against my poopy-hole. The head felt as big as a barrel, an impossible trial baloon. I gritted my teeth. Let him hurt me, I thought ... just let him ... as long as it doesn't go in.
"He began to mutter, gently accusing me of holding out on him. I was-there's a great deal of strength in the anal muscles-but I didn't admit it. I just kept on gritting my teeth and finally he gave up and began to kiss my shoulder and neck and breast. He pulled and rolled me over, with a nipple in his mouth.
"He was grunting, smacking, making a noisy, lovely to-do ... and then he began to bite. At first the feeling was like a shining path from my breast to my cunt, but as his teeth went deeper and I heard his cruel snarl, the shininess turned to a white painful heat. Sudden panic swirled through me. Reuben gathered me closer and closer. MY panic swirled higher, its force fed by the guilty despair within me. It was my romantic conceit that had driven him to this. His passion was out of control. There was a sudden humbled feel to the beat of my heart as shame and remorse flamed through me, culling the pain of his teeth. Stubbornly, I refused to cry out or move. And I wanted no mercy. Deserved none. I WANTED him to rape me, take his revenge in a larger sense.
"I began passing out at irregular intervals. Each time I came to, I made sure Reuben was still torturing me, for I was haunted by the thought that this was his way of ending everything between us and once revenged he would go away.
"Then, scarcely knowing what I was doing, I offered him the other breast. I pushed the nipple towards his lips, tried to force it into his mouth with the other one. He let go and leaned down to spit on the edge of the sheet. He held the sheet up. I saw a trace of blood. But my nipple tingled blissfully. And looked larger and rosier than ever.
"I was suddenly sobbing with relief, glad with knowing he hadn't meant to hurt me-really. Then the thrill of joy that started threading through me caught on a snag of pain. I lay silent, unmoving on the bed. Reuben was getting up. He wouldn't be coming back ... that is, he might not be. And I had no right to insist. If sucking him had readied him to leave ... if he had lost the desire for me...
"I was still on the bed when Reuben threw open the bathroom door an agonizing eternity later. He looked furious, but I didn't care. I had a feeling of being far away as I watched his lips move. Words-I'm sure there were a few or perhaps hundreds, but none had the power to reach me. The sting of reality did not return until he touched me.
"I slipped into his arms dazedly, striving to understand his mood. There was no anger in the clasp of his arms. Anger and the thrilling tingle he gave me being in his arms would have been incongruous.
"Our eyes met, oddly enough in the bedroom mirror. It was as though we were both being evasive, taking the long way around.
"My heart began racing as I saw the mixture of love and laughter in Reuben's eyes. The next instant I was feeling the playful mark of his teeth on the as yet untouched breast. I smiled into the mirror as I watched him bite the tit. It turned into a little game, with me flinching away, bobbing my wet tit this way and that to keep the nipple out of his mouth. Finally I bobbed the wrong way and the nipple popped into his mouth. He mauled it sensuously, making a churning sound with his tongue and saliva. With my eyes closed, I could believe his mouth pulled on my cunt, too. I switched tits on him and the feeling was magnified. I began to blaze and back away from the preliminaries.
"His arms went about me with a fierce, hungry tenderness, pulling my yielding, tingling form close to his own long, lean body as he laid his lips over mine in a kiss that was deeply demanding, a kiss that forever took possission of all the sweetness and ecstasy that was my lover for him.
"Still rapturously conscious of the feeling his strong arms left on my body, I pulled my legs up and began to undulate.
"His eyes thanked me as he pumped, and now I knew we were at the middle stage of love. From here on we would hickey each other like vampires. Our kisses would be rough, wallowing, ... perhaps even sanguinary. We would feel each other out tooth and nail. The beast would gutter up onto our throats. Reuben's cock would become a club, a weapon. He would wield it wildly, bruise and bully my insides.
"There would be an exultant roaring breathing in our hardened, straining throats.
"His hairy groins would sand my tender slick-shaven pubes ... and weld our flesh. And then we'd start coming!