In her book, psychoanalysis of sexual life, Dr. Vitali Negri writes: "It must be acknowledged that illicit union, no matter how gratifying, is accompanied by fear of detection and loss of reputation, while legitimate marriage makes mating a publicly respected procedure. In legalized marriage, love may or may not be present, and sense satisfaction may or may not be attained, but there is no secret to guard, unless it be unhappiness...." If anyone had a secret to guard, it was Gloria. She had raised a son possessed of her own wanton appetites, and together they performed a travesty of love. Only the father of her illegitimate son could save her from hell, and he had been lost to time.
CHAPTER ONE
Passers-by could scarcely be blamed for turning to do a double-take on Gloria Hard there on Fifth Avenue at Rockefeller Center.
Lips parted, breathless with wonder; eyes bright with desire; a sort of sensual electricity emanated from the girl as she sat staring at the nude and very virile male before her.
Those skilled in interpreting such signs could see that Gloria was racked with lust as her study of the naked man flicked from muscle to muscle in a kind of predatory longing.
"Oh, if only your cock would get long and hard and bothered!'" Gloria's thoughts pounded longingly at her fierce hunger. "I'd lay me right down here on this bench and beg you to ram him up me!"
Slowly, unwillingly, reason returned to the torrid body of the voluptuous blonde. The tantalizing tease of her taut nipples pressing hard against the knit-wool of her mini-dress began to lessen and sadly, she rose to leave the presence of that inflaming masculine figure.
"Why couldn't you be for real?" she moaned to herself, casting a last passionate glance at the metallic magnificence of the statue of Atlas bending beneath his burden.
A few junior executives stood nearby watching Gloria's superb figure as she left the little square and casually jay-walked across Fifty Avenue, past St. Patrick's, to head North to ... nowhere in particular.
"Boy! What a piece of tail that is!" Gerald Dunritty exulted to friend Arnold.
"Did you see the way she was staring at that thing?" Arnold responded, nodding toward the imperturbable figure of Atlas.
"Hot pants, man ... pure and simple," leered another up-and-coming copy writer in the ad world. "Ten'll get you a thousand she finds a chunk of man for that hot box before dark."
Three sets of eyes watched the superb cushion of Gloria's ass as she strolled slowly out of range in the throngs of people window-shopping her way along the East side of Fifth.
'A chunk of man' was just what the girl needed and needed so badly she could taste it.
Her stare leaped, as though drawn by a magnet, to fix on every male crotch that came toward her. That's how it seemed to her, at least. There may have been legs and torso and arms to form the body of each man walking South on Fifth Avenue-but for Gloria, there was only the lure of that mystery at the crotch.
Most of the men were discreet and disgustingly tidy in the fit of the trousers, but occasionally her searching look was rewarded. A teen-ager or a young adult man, wearing those revealing sung-to-the-thigh slacks would approach and pass. The perceptible bulge of his sexual parts would make the girl's breathing quicken and her heart skip frantically as he drew close ... then passed.
At 51st and Fifty a very special and erratic heart flutter began when she saw the boy at the window of the lingerie shop. Obviously fresh from the country, he was gaping open-mouthed at the display of satiny slips and filmy negligees in the store window.
"Wonder of wonders! He's bothered!" Gloria noticed as she saw the long bulge along his snug trouser leg.
Unable to help herself, she sidled up to stand next to the boy and pretended to be particularly taken by a translucent nightgown of pale pink.
She could feel the boy's eyes on her ripe breasts and she drew in her breath and expanded her chest to let her mounds thrust eagerly forward. At just the right moment she turned and bent, ever so nonchalantly, as if to study the price tag.
Her glance went directly to his groin, and there, in burgeoning beauty she saw his pulsating stem!
She acted on the impulse too quickly for the boy to be able to step away.
"Touch it ... touch it, Gloria!" her hungers dictated to her lust.
Impetuously, her hand shot out as though she was trying to catch her balance and she heard his gasp as her fingers fell squarely on the boy's surprised and aroused prick. The rod felt hot through the cloth of the pants.
"I'm so sorry. I must have slipped!" Gloria exclaimed in pretended embarrassment.
Face suffused in red, eyes dilated with fright, the boy had jumped back as though hit by a freight train. Covering his aroused state with his jacket, he whirled around the corner of the entry to the store and hurried down the street as though at any moment he might hear the policeman's whistle.
Gloria was a female sea of frustration as she headed on up the avenue. For a time she studied the feet and then the faces of the males walking toward her. But always, her thoughts drifted back to those sex machines, so barely concealed by the trousers the men wore.
Even their feet and their faces made her think of sex!
"Big feet ... big pete!" That's what her roommate at Blackmoor had told her.
"Long nose ... long hose!" That was another pearl of wisdom that one of her friends in the dorm had given Gloria.
Now she couldn't shake the ideas that had been planted. She paused at the curb waiting for the 'Walk' sign to appear on the signal across the way and the entire contingent of pedestrians facing her on the opposite side of 53rd was male. Not just a group of businessmen and tourists waiting impatiently to cross on the light ... not to Gloria. She could see them all clearly in her mind's eye. Everyone of them had a well-developed hard-on pointing right straight at her! In her imagination, she knew their impatience was not for the light to change so they could cross. Oh, no! They were impatient to get at her and start reaming their rails up her in flamed cunt!
"Oh, Lordy! How I need it!" Gloria murmured to herself.
A startled tourist, fresh in from Indianapolis, ogled the shapely blonde in surprise as he overheard the murmur at his side, then, as the light changed, he leaned to whisper knowingly in his wife's ear.
"One of those kids on the needle, I'll bet. Read about them in the STAR just last week."
His wife glanced over her shoulder at the straggler behind them and gave Gloria that special housewifely stare of disapproving icyness. It completely missed its target for Gloria's man fever had insulated her from any consciousness of the presence of a second sex.
Shortly, the girl saw the welcoming entrance of old, but stately, Plaza.
"No men there," she was concluding to herself, thinking it looked more a location for retired and the widowed. Just then she saw the in and out flow of patrons.
"Males! Real live and youngish males!" Her desires drove the hopes higher and again she began a leisurely diagonal across the avenue. Irritated taxi horns made about as much impression as the disapproving Indianapolitan housewife and reaching the curb, she headed for the entrance.
The Green Room with its covering protection of tropical plants tastefully distributed, gave Gloria the ideal location to sit and sip and watch the traffic in and out of the lobby and the lounge.
Her daydreams swept every couple that passed her table or crossed the lounge. An obviously honeymooning pair strolled, arms interlocking, eyes only for the other as they approached her table in search of a seat. Boldly, Gloria slipped down a bit into the upholstered chair to force the mini-dress to creep even further up her already generously exposed thigh. Unobserved as the two approached, she let her toe dangle directly in the path of the bridegroom's already somewhat unsteady walk. To her delight, Gloria discovered the real reason they were looking for sheltering cover in the Green Room was the tenting of his pants.
The man was so hot to be back in the saddle, his excitement was standing like a pole from the new pin-striped suit. He didn't even see the obstacle of Gloria's foot till he struck it, and, off balance, toppled squarely against her. She felt the delicious pressure in .his pants thrust against her thigh as he fought to regain his balance.
"I'm terribly sorry!" he apologized, trying not to notice the lovely contour of the thighs he had totally exposed as he fell against this lovely creature.
Gloria took her time straightening her skirt as she gave the groom that special Gothamite look of understanding indifference. Inside she was a turmoil. The feel of that male tool so close to home, yet so far away, fired her hungers anew.
"A martini," she answered the waiter who had been casing the luscious figure and now hurried to see if he could be of help.
As she sat waiting to be served, Gloria's mind raced over the incredible distance she'd traveled in so short a time to bring her to this state.
It had all started, rather, climaxed, there at Blackmoor College just the previous week. She groaned inwardly as she thought of the convent-like environment of that all-girls college in the Midwest.
Thirty days of that intensive female concentration with the endless prattling about boys ... boys ... boys and never any action, had driven Gloria nearly out of her tree.
She wondered what had driven her out of the dorm that night that she had decided to walk across campus toward the library, after the library had closed.
She knew what it was, "Those trees and their damned appearance!" That's what had drawn her toward the low brick wall to sit alone and silent staring at the great oaks that lined the campus quadrangle.
For the life of her, all Gloria could see as she studied the great trunks silhouetted against the moonlit sky, were massive erections. The ground was the belly of man and from the low shrubs which she envisioned as the hair that fringed man's groin, there rose this exciting organ of love!
Now Gloria's responses were to put it mildly, scarcely typical. Her whole sensual nature seemed to flow in concentric circles out from the seat of her desire-her hot cunt. So trigger-like was her sexuality that she could, by merely pressing her thighs tightly together, encourage the onset of orgasm!
Slowly, as she stared at the mighty trunks, she squeezed, then released the tapered beauty of her upper legs. To hasten the process as she felt the sensation mounting, she slipped a hand to her lap and then up under her skirt to press against the tender lips. Still not content, she let two fingers force their way into the moist vagina and slip with wriggling curiosity further and further into her soft tunnel.
Suddenly the crisis struck! Gasping and sobbing, almost out of control from the delicious feeling of the paralysis of coming, she let the emotion flood over her. Then for a moment her inner being was quieted.
"Are you all right, young lady?"
The voice hit Gloria like a thunderclap for she'd heard no sound of footsteps approaching.
"Oh ... Oh! You scared me. I didn't hear a soul. Who is it?" she demanded of the darkness.
"Dr. Smiley," came the answer. "I'm the new guidance counselor at Blackmoor."
Gloria knew him at once, even before he stepped from the shadows to her side. He was the Only eligible male on the faculty and she had known that within a week of her entrance to Blackmoor. Several times she had drifted by the door of the office that Dr. Smiley shared with an older superior, but always he was out of sight in a little room at the rear of the Guidance Quarters.
What she didn't know was that Dr. John Smiley s state was much like her own. He'd received his Ph.D the June before and after three years near-burial in the stackrooms of a neighboring mens' college library, completing his thesis, he was more than ready to mix with people; and especially girl-type people!
Then he'd arrived at Blackmoor to take the promising position of Associate in Guidance. His boss, elderly Dr. Winthrop, really had no intention of sharing the challenging role in guidance with his new young assistant. He could sense immediately the charisma of the fledgling associate with his still wet-ink degree.
"Competition!" the aging Dr. Winthrop immediately sensed. This youngster could well jeopardize his latter years at Blackmoor.
"Let him cut his eye teeth on evaluation of forms," his shrewd sixth-sense had told him.
So it came about that one John Smiley was buried in the back rooms of the Guidance Quarters, smothered under a mountain of paper work that could well take into the following Spring to complete. He knew the old man acted out of jealousy for his more recent education in guidance techniques and he was completely powerless to oppose his sentence to limbo land.
Day after day, since the start of Blackmoor in September, Smiley had sweated it out in the bleakness of his research on the dull forms, looking for behavioral characteristics of the incoming class, projecting the Freshmen segment that would quite likely run into academic or social difficulty at Blackmoor.
Except for the tantalizing odor of perfume that seeped softly through to the back rooms when some girl came to keep an appointment with that old bastard of a guidance chief, Smiley might just as well have been back in the library stacks.
Lonely and disillusioned, John Smiley had been making a late evening round of the campus, when the sound of a sob and a gasp caught his ear near the Blackmoor Memorial Library. It had a certain sexiness to it and that was enough to draw John Smiley like a magnet.
"I thought I heard you crying when I approached," he now said to Gloria.
She recovered her composure quickly. "I ... I'm afraid you did, Dr. Smiley. It's just that I'm so terribly homesick." lie slipped down to sit on the low brick wall beside her.
"Kind of rough, isn't it?" he asked, trying to recognize the girl in the darkness.
"Say ... I know! You're Miss Gloria Hard from New York and you're a freshman," he declared.
Gloria looked in open wonder at his ability to pick her out of 600 others or. campus.
"However did you know that?" Gloria demanded, catching her breath to give the effect of a still-lingering sorrow. "You only came here last month yourself."
John Smiley grinned happily. "It's my business to know our girls," he stated paternally. "Now what can we do to help you lo check your homesickness?"
She thought a minute.
"I know you'll think I'm an awful ninny, Dr. Smiley ... but could I just sit close to your tweed coat for a few minutes? It's the very kind my daddy likes to wear at home."
By answer, Smiley snuggled close to the soft, gently-perfumed young lady and comfortingly slipped his arm around her waist so that she could really almost sense the presence of her daddy by the nearness of the coat.
He hoped she didn't make the comparison! Her record, her facts and her figure had sprung at him from her student file only that very afternoon. 42-26-41 were the principal facts that he had stored in his mind about the lovely thing whose official college application photo he'd ogled for over half an hour. The fact was, he had her picture in his breast pocket at that very instant, having stolen it from the file and noted certain little facts on the back for time he was sure would come when he'd like to know them.
"An unbelievable break," he exulted inwardly, as he felt her supple figure yield softly to the pleasure of his arm at her back.
Gloria just couldn't get over the way Dr. John Smiley was so informed on the student body. She had no idea that it was one student's body in particular about which Smiley had become an expert. He was just the tonic she needed to shed that feeling she had and would he mind if they just sat there and let her get herself in hand.
"Of course not, my dear . ... that's what we're here for," he assured her.
The muscle at his groin that had dangled in limp boredom and as he had walked forlornly about the campus, now was a raging erection.
Gloria had been from the start given a sort of sixth sense about men in that state. Before they knew they were aroused themselves, her own instinctive sex senses were whispering the message.
She stifled a convulsive sob. "I guess I'll get over this, but it is hard. I've not been away from home before," she said. The man reached across her face and tenderly stroked the golden locks, then pressed her head against his shoulder.
She appreciated the gesture of comfort and let her form fold in eager gratitude against his side. Then, when she was sure by the slight tremor that came from his body to hers, that all was ready, she started to straighten suddenly and let her hand slip into his lap.
Low! Very low. Before he could intercept her hand, it was resting with unbelievable innocence on the trembling length of his cock!
For an instant neither of them moved. If he dared to brush her hand away, she could take it for his rejection ... ,and now, Lord, now she had slumped again and her wrist as well as her hand, lay flush atop his stiff prick. Only a thin veil of gabardine separated her from a moment of truth!
"Daddy used to hold me like this every night," she was saying.
"I'll just bet he did!" thought the petrified young professor.
"He used to tell me a bedtime story-would you think I was a goose if I told it to you? "
"Not at all," Smiley croaked as the pressure of his erection made him grimace in pain.
"Well, it went like this," Gloria began. "Once there was this farmer who had this very pretty daughter and she never did any work around the farm."
"Then one day," the young temptress went on, "the farmer came out on the porch and threw a bag of beans at the girl who was loafing on the swing. 'Plant them' the father demanded."
Gloria was thoroughly enjoying the torture she knew Smiley was barely enduring as she felt him squirm under the leisurely hand that lay so indifferently on his erection.
"When the farmer's daughter asked her father how she was supposed to plant the beans, he said, 'You plow a furrow first and then throw the beans in and they'll grow big and tall.' "
Now Gloria bent and quickly reached for Smiley's waist as she went on, "The pretty little girl went out and plowed the furrow just like this," and Gloria's hand shot down the length of the zipper, springing a gaping opening in Smiley's trousers!
Before the astonished young doctor could protest, Gloria dove across the opened fly.
She continued, "And guess what! The very next day after she buried the beans, out sprang a great tall tree, just like this...!"
The white bone hardness of the professor's prick soared with savage hunger into view as Gloria guided it to freedom.
"Gracious to goodness ... you have one, too!" Gloria exclaimed in pretend astonishment.
Smiley was powerless in the grip of his own hunger to do anything more than slip weakly from the low wall to the grass to the base. The naive little freshman slid down with him, still keeping a tight clasp on the wildly exciting flesh in her fist.
"Whatever will we do to make the tree grow even bigger?" Gloria went on as though nothing catastrophic had happened. The sweat poured from Smiley's forehead as he saw the gleaming whiteness of his rigid length.
"Well just have to draw the water up from the ground and make it reach to the very tippy-top of this tree, said the farmer's daughter," and Gloria bent in impish glee to press her nose against the swollen red cap at the tip of the man's rod.
"And you know how that farmer's daughter got all the moisture to go up that tree trunk?" Gloria asked, and continued without waiting for an answer from the speechless John Smiley.
"She just went to the top and she sucked and she sucked until all the water came to the top-like this!" A passionate Gloria surrounded the phallic head with her full warm lips and Dr. John Smiley, anesthetized by his own desires, gaped in disbelief as the red acorn disappeared from view into the thirsty lips of the delectable Gloria.
Up and down her head bobbed as she took more and more of his white, thickened length from view. He felt her hot saliva grow even hotter from the piston-like action in her mouth. She just couldn't seem to get enough of him and he didn't want her to!
Then he felt his crisis mounting and he knew in seconds that she would feel the hotter bath of his spray. Wildly he grabbed at her fingers with their frigging action as he tried to pry his manhood loose from its joy house in her mouth. But she would have none of it and shook her head violently even as she continued her mad sucking.
"Let go!" he begged, making one last attempt to let his juices dash at the air instead of into her mouth-but it was too late.
His ejaculation pumped out like a cannon barrage, roaring merrily into the recesses behind her lovely lips and spattering gaily against the roof of her mouth. Munching, sucking, chewing, she followed him down as he convulsed in a wild spasm on the soft velvet of the grass. Her hips and her own sex center were a heaving tornado as she came in her own completion to accompany him.
For an instant the two of them lay panting on the grass, the acorn cap of his still-turgid spear just bordering at the edge of her lips.
Then the fever for more possessed the man and Smiley threw her violently over on to her back. Like a wild animal he spread her beautiful legs and leaped into the welcoming valley to attack.
Gloria felt the cock heat of the man as he drove hungrily at the tender little cunt. It was a scene of frenzied grappling as they wove arms and legs, each driving at the other, each unable to wait for the sweet courtesies of love play and seduction.
"Oh, yessss!" squealed Gloria in a delirium of happiness. "Yes ... yes! Do it to me! Oh, please, harder!"
Across the quadrangle, making his rounds on a quiet campus night, the college cop heard the delighted cries. He raced across the greensward toward the library and the sounds of sexual violence.
"I'm ... oh ... I'm going to ... going to ... I'm coming!" moaned the ecstatic Gloria, as she felt her mound press flush against the mound of her lover and knew that he, too, was at his climax.
His groans matched her little cries as the two of them writhed and drove at each other in the ecstasy of orgasm. For just an instant, neither was aware of the presence of the spectator to the last seconds of their coitus and then, with blaring brilliance, the harshness of the cop's flashlight sprayed across their grappling bodies.
"Well, if it isn't Dr. Smiley!" boomed the officer, more than pleased to have captured one of those faculty nitwits in a mortal fault. None too gently, he seized the suddenly terrified professor under the armpit and dragged him from the clasping arms of his student lover.
Everything went very quickly for Gloria-and of course, for one Dr. John Smiley whose tenure of office had just set a record for brevity at Blackmoor College for Women.
CHAPTER TWO
Standing before the outraged dean of students, that next morning, Gloria felt the flood of righteousness the maiden dean poured at the about-to-be-dismissed freshman, Gloria Hard.
"How could you have done that to that poor man?" Miss Derringer demanded, as she stormed the student with verbal abuse. To Miss Derringer, it was a disaster because this little tramp had just removed the only eligible name from the ranks of the faculty. Staring at Gloria, Dean Derringer wondered how it felt to the girl to have John Smiley's penis up her vagina. If there was a way to do it and stay within college regulations, Derringer would have gladly killed the girl where she stood.
"You are to return to New York on the next available form of transportation and a full report of your conduct has already been dispatched to your parents," the irate dean declared.
"May I go now?" asked Gloria.
"You may," and the dean slumped angrily back into her seal.
For the whole flight home from Chicago, Gloria wondered what kind of a reception would await her. Her parents would have had a thorough chance to decide what to do. Permissive as they were, she was pretty sure that this time was going to be different.
She was wrong. Mother and Daddy were the soul of understanding. How could that Professor have gotten away with such a wanton attack. Daddy Hard was up in arms to storm back to the campus and have it out with the administration, but Gloria and her Mother united forces to cool the man.
"Remember your heart, dear," cautioned Mrs. Hard, and then she proposed the only sensible plan of action.
No, she didn't think Gloria should get a job in the city; rather, she would do better to wait for three months and the debutantes' next coming-out affair. It wasn't too late to get into the social swirl of the fall and winter, Mrs. Hard had decided.
"It will be a good way for you to forget this whole tragic affair," she reassured her daughter.
The short-lived affair was the one thing that Gloria wanted to remember. In spite of her knowledgeability in the seduction of John Smiley, it had been her first thrill of intercourse and now she couldn't forget the sensation.
Everyone from the doorman to the butler of the swank Hard penthouse on Sutton Place did their best to let Gloria know their pleasure in her early return from Blackmoor College. The whole male staff of the plush apartment had hated to see her leave for school and lake with her that sizzling figure with its dramatic contours.
Everyone now, and most of all Gloria's daddy, was overjoyed that she was hack. Walter Hard had entertained extremely non-paternal feelings toward Gloria for some time.
The fact was, he was damned sure he wasn't even her father! He credited his partner in brokerage with that role, though he'd never admit it.
When Dottie Hard had told her husband that she was three months enroute toward the blessed event, Walter had done some fast arithmetic. He'd been in L.A. for almost the entire month in which the conception would have occurred. With Gloria's arrival, he privately sharpened his pencil even more and since the doctor had targeted the arrival date precisely, he knew that if he had fathered the child, he had cut loose with a record ejaculation! It would have had to blast a cool three thousand miles!
Then there was the girl's appearance. Something about the skin tone. She had a satin smooth skin that just didn't identify with either Dottie's or his own. She had dark eyes with a greenish cast never seen in the Hard clan before. Furthermore, as she matured, she grew into a tall, statuesque figure of a girl and that tore it!
His partner, Ralph Emberley, had all those marks himself, height, eye tone and skin, plus all the marks of a man eager to participate with Dottie in any fiddle-faddle the two might cook up in Walter's frequent business trips to the coast.
Walter had kept his convictions to himself through the years, although his partnership with Emberley was dissolved shortly after Gloria's birth. He'd also cooled on Dottie over the seventeen years till now. It was just one of those things. He'd been conned and the central thought on his mind was to revenge himself one day.
As the girl developed into a lush and delectable package of woman, Walter's lust for revenge settled down to pure lust.
He didn't hear the bathroom door open the second morning after Gloria returned. His electric razor was skimming his chin when he caught sight of the girl in the mirror.
"Gloria!" he exclaimed. "You're a big girl now. You shouldn't be prancing about in the nude!"
"Daddy ... you're cute!" she giggled, bouncing at every delectable point as she continued into the bathroom. "Why, I thought I was among friends, to say the least."
She did a light-hearted pirouette and Daddy stared at her wonderfully-contoured figure with its firm, full feline form. A downy hint of hair accented the prominence of her sexy mound of Venus as she arched back proudly for his seeming off-the-cuff inspection through the mirror.
"You're getting to be quite the looker," Walter observed wryly, pressing his waist closer to the sink and trying to concentrate on his shaving.
"Oh, do you really think so, Daddy? I want to be for you!
Impulsively, Gloria flung her arms around the surprised waist of the man in an enthusiastic display of affection. As though by nature modest, Walter stiffened at the pressure of the ripe grapefruit that pushed immodestly into his back.
"Careful there, baby!" he warned.
"Why, Daddy! Whatever is the matter? Is my Daddy shy?"
Her hand dropped along the fold of the towel at his waist and suddenly she stopped. Her hand had come across a rapidly ballooning penis!
"For heaven's sake! I didn't know that I could bother you, Daddy!" She kept her clasp on the banana-like muscle and snuggled her cheek against his bare shoulder.
"That's just my natural state of affairs," grumped Walter, trying to ignore the passion-maddened sensations that were charging through his frame.
"It's a beautiful natural state," Gloria replied. "I think we make too much bug-a-boo about the human body. If your manhood wants to stand up, everyone shouldn't have a fit about it."
Walter glanced in the mirror at the top of Gloria's head bent in seductive nonchalance as she leaned against him.
"You really mean that, don't you, dear?"
"I surely do! All that fuss out there at old Blackmoor and firing that poor professor just because he got into a state over me. I think ... oh, I know it sounds awful, maybe ... but I think in a way he was paying me a compliment, having to put his excitement into me ... don't you:
Walter was a sea of uncertainty and he managed to choke out, "That's one way of looking at it, I suppose, as long as he didn't attack you." He felt the pressure beginning to flood into his groin.
"He was really very considerate, but when I told that sleazy old Dean Derringer I felt that way, she acted like I was a whore or something even lots worse!"
Playfully, Gloria caught the knot at the back of the bathtowel and pulled! "So ... at least we can be natural with each other and I don't care whether you're sticking out in front or all curled up. I think a man is beautiful!"
How could he follow a line like that? He fairly soared in response to her admiration and made no attempt to reclaim the stolen towel. His bone-hard cock was projecting to its quivering best length at a bold right angle and he had to back a step from the procelain to try to continue his shave. Her hand was round his waist again, squeezing at the base of the turbulent hard-on.
She sank to sit at his side and stare adoringly at the burgeoning spear, then reached again to pinch the top and bottom of the stem, flush against his groin, forming a handmade tourniquet across the dorsal vein.
The mushroom at the tip was swollen in a dark luminescent disproportion to the whiteness of the rod. Gloria fought the desire, that sizzled through her to take the lollypop shape into her lips.
"It's so good to be the natural us, Daddy," she said. "Can I ask you something about this part of a man that I've never been able to ask Mother about? "
"Sure, honey, go ahead," he answered, now enveloped in his cunt-crazed thoughts.
"Well, then," she began. "Here's what happened. One time when I walking by myself, I was over by the edge of the campus near the town side and I saw this boy sort of half-hiding behind a tree."
"He didn't know I saw him and I could see that he was going up and down along his male thing ... as I got near him ... going like this!" With every appearance of innocence, Gloria began very casually to frig along the length of Walter's turgid rail!
"I thought it was so pretty the way his little red acorn sort of a head ... oh! So much smaller than yours ... kept bobbing back and forth into sight. It just looked like so much fun that I wanted to stop and help him do it!"
"Probably a good thing you didn't!" exclaimed Walter, feeling his head grow light as she continued the firm, steady stroke.
"Oh, I didn't ... I just walked right on by that old tree and made out like I didn't see a thing and just as I got past it, I heard him making funny sort of groans. Whatever did that mean? He sounded sort of the way Professor Smiley sounded just before that old policeman came and spoiled every ... uh ... caught him."
Now she was ripping back and forth in an eager dramatization of what she had seen the boy doing and right then, Walter Hard's razor clattered into the sink.
"Listen ... Gloria ... in about two shakes you're going to see the same thing happen to your father if you don't stop that!"
"Oil! Would that be so awful! I mean ... if it's supposed to happen ... why fight it?"
For about one second Walter Hard thought about that logic and then about something even better. Maybe this was the moment. No one was around the apartment, what with Junior Service responsibilities having taken Doltie to the welfare center. He reached down and grasped the hand that was toying with his cock and pulled her urgently to her feet.
"Nothing awful about it, you little witch ... but I'll show you something better for both of us!" She was a tingling sex-pot as he led her into the bedroom. And she was a possessed woman as she felt him spread her legs ever so wide to make room for his inquiring tongue.
In a few wild exploring darts of his hot tongue he had located her clitoral knob, rigid and blossoming within her love tunnel. She vented her immediate spunking orgasm with cries of happy delight.
"I'm going out of my mind ... oh! Do it to me ... what is it? Do it more!" It was all the incentive that he needed. In rapid-fire succession, Gloria climaxed and bathed his impudent teasing tongue with honey spunk.
"That's the way it feels when a boy does it to himself with his hand," Walter informed the gasping Gloria. "This is how it can feel when the two love centers get together ...!" he paused, poised above her thighs. "Unless, that is ... you found out the other night when the professor went after you?"
"Oh gee, no ... I didn't," Gloria assured him. "I was just too scared to know what was going on."
"Then I'll show you," he declared, and dove to bring his rock-like length flush against her dainty pink cunt lips. He looked down at the pretty crevice.
"You're just so beautiful, my dear ... and whatever, you be sure to tell me if this hurts."
It was pure heaven to the burning cock-crazed girl to feel the horny length slide into the moistened aperture. He felt her whole body quiver in sex hunger as he drove impatiently to his conquest. The frigging had so readied his emotions that halfway up her furnace-like playpen he could feel the orgasm racing to crest. With a great fight, Walter slowed the piston thrusts and tried to cool his passion, but the stilled action of his phallus drove Gloria out of her mind.
"Oh ... oh ... I've just got to have it ... got to ... got to!" she screamed and drove her hips at him as she felt herself cresting.
It was her own demand and her own climax that pulled the wild trigger on his ejaculation. She felt the joy juice storm into her harbor like a rain of hail ... then all was quiet.
But Walter Hard was far from quiet inside. His lust was now lit and there was no stopping with just one moment of ecstasy. His prick stayed hard and elongated ... and once again he rammed it further and further into the overjoyed receptacle of Gloria's superheated quim.
Any second now ... the passion was tearing all through his being ... He heard her voice....
"Oh, Daddy ... I had no idea it would be so ... so much ... much fun!" The moment would soon be on them both again ... and then....
Just then, he felt the claw at his chest. The gigantic ten-fingered claw that gripped and squeezed and blasted the breath from him! It was that damned heart! Damn the heart, anyhow! He'd have her and have her good! Beneath him her desire-ridden cries were mounting. He couldn't stop ... not now. Not if it was the last thing he did.
And that is just what it was! The sperm was dashing madly from his steely length when the room began to swim and go black. He couldn't stop his thrusting ... driving ... climax. It was the last thing that he remembered. The crazed joy of his uncontrolled ejaculation. And then he slumped lifeless ... his hips still moving in the last moments of the crisis.
Gloria was out there somewhere amongst the stars, climaxing in waves of wonder and wildness. Then it was done and she lay under the heavy weight that seemed suddenly so quiet. She fought for her breath as her hips reflexed in post-orgasmic joy.
"Are you all right, Daddy?" she asked, all at once worried.
There was a deathly silence.
In a blinding, searing instant of awareness, Gloria knew. The man was dead!
Carefully she eased from under his frame and stared in disbelief. Then, fighting the panic, her mind raced to the consequences.
"The autopsy! They'll spot the condition of his sex!" She reached and fingered the still-very long and semi-rigid penis. Slowly it began to fold. Then she hurried to the bathroom, fighting the tears and got a washcloth.
A few moments later, clad in a housecoat, she screamed into the intercom for the doorman to get the doctor.
CHAPTER THREE
Everyone at the funeral had been so filled with sympathy ... for Dottie and for Gloria.
"Oh ... shell be all right. Both of us will, Walter provided for us well." Her mother seemed to maintain an imperturbable calm and secretly Gloria knew that they had known little love between them ... her father and her mother.
A week later she announced that she definitely would not come out ... it wouldn't be right to debut so soon in the shadow of her father's death. Gloria wanted to get a job and think about her future on her own, she told her mother.
That's how it was.
Dottie never could understand this very independent girl. To have her out of the apartment for most of the day would be the best thing.
After a few abortive attempts in employment agencies and learning that she had really nothing to offer anyone in experience or training, Gloria was a web of frustration.
To worsen the frustration, the two sexual episodes had fired her with man hunger ... and with purely disastrous consequences each time. Somehow there must be fulfillment somewhere.
That was her state as she had wandered up Fifth Avenue ... crazy for a man ... most any man; frustrated in her search for a job and nowhere to turn.
She glanced down at the empty glass of her third martini. Her head told her that she must leave.
A few minutes later she was out on the corner of Fifth Avenue looking across at the dark mass of trees beyond the entrance to Central Park. She had been told a thousand times that the Park was no place for a woman after dark. Tonight she just didn't care.
"Maybe someone will really attack me and murder me and the whole silly mess with be done with!" she thought, despondently.
Slowly she passed the line of horse-drawn hacks and ignored the repeated invitations of their chauffeurs for an evening ride in the park. She turned indifferently into the shadows beyond the stone pillars and moved toward the forbidden paths into the heart of Central Park.
At that very moment, at the opposite side of the same park, a terror-stricken Spanish boy named Rodriquez Ortega was entering at the Broadway entrance.
He was running for his life and, like Gloria, if not a far more desperate creature, he was sure he must be near the end of the world ... his world.
He, too, vanished into the shadows of the trees in a wild flight for safety.
The Ortega passions were understandable. They had been ripening for more than four centuries after the swinging beginning launched in the New World by one Jose Monino Ortega in 1542. Jose was part of a band of intrepid conquistadors who worked their way across Central America for the glory of Charles I of Spain.
Jose had more of an interest in the glory at his groin than the acquisition of wealth for some distant monarch and while the rest of his comrades were busily stealing the eye teeth of the natives, he was after other parts of the human anatomy. Every time he saw a pretty tawny skinned, dark-haired, rich-bodied native girl, Jose just had to steal her cunt. His Castilian forerunners had apparently bequeathed him an especially tireless Spanish cock and before the expedition was halfway across the Isthmus, a half dozen new Ortegas were well planted in Central American wombs.
It made for rotten public relations with the natives, particularly the males and at last, Don Carlos Cordoba banished the equerry, Jose Ortega, and sent him off into the wilds of Mexico to fend for himself.
How Jose managed, it has never been learned, but he fought and screwed his way North by Northeast till he arrived at what was to become Manhattan Isle. There his copulating craze reached a peak and by the time Jose was just a memory, he had fathered a notable beginning for the Manhattan branch of the Ortega family tree.
Part of the penchant of the Ortegas as the years and then the centuries rolled along, was to keep it in the family. It was a good royal custom in the old country, known by the rather dull name of 'inbreeding', and while it produced some nasty tendencies toward hemophilia and other hereditary problems, it made for a lot of bedroom fun.
Father begat daughter and father had no reservations about romping on the sheets with wife, mother, daughter.
So, at last, the world lucked out with Alonzo Ortega and his offspring. Unhappily, Alonzo, in spite of his vigorous prick, was only to produce one son.
No daughters! It was a hell of a dilemma for this pure-blooded Castilian of the twentieth century. He had counted on his wife producing two or three playmates for his latter years when he would tire of her. And all she gave him was Rodriquez Ortega.
Not to be denied, Alonzo suddenly enjoyed a spurt of public-spiritedness. He made the Ortega home in New York a haven for orphan children needing foster homes. With an eye trained by centuries of Ortega girl-watching, Alonzo had a great sympathy for young Spanish girls who had remained unadopted through the childhood years until their puberty. He picked five pure beauties ... Maria, Estralita, Teresa, Conchita, and Isabella. All were fifteen or sixteen when he brought them into his home in the Spanish sector of the West side of Manhattan. The fact that the state paid a subsidy for each foster child was a happy fact to Alonzo, but not his prime interest.
Within a year he. had cultivated the quintet into a swinging harem, trained to serve his every passion. To say that his wife approved his lustful use of the girls would be to stretch the point; but Oliva Ortega was a practical woman. At least her husband was not out with some slut paying out for his sex heat. She knew where he was getting it and she knew that the girls were clean. It made for a fairly pleasant arrangement.
The five foster daughters occupied two bedrooms, separated by a bath. Directly after he finished the decanter of wine and the after-dinner cigar which he proudly told the neighbors were his only two vices, he was ready for his nightly swing fest. It made Alonzo feel he had done his part to contribute to the girls' intellectual growth to allow them at least an hour on their homework for the next day in school.
Then, with ritualistic devotion, Alonzo would retire to the master bedroom to shave and bathe and cover his naked body with a gawdy bathrobe of oriental silk. By this time, his hungers were in high gear for the daughter or daughters about whom his sexual excitement had been building as he sat alone with his after-dinner cigar. The hallmark of the Ortega male was inevitably booming at right angles to his body from his crotch as Alonzo made his way to the first of the two bedrooms.
His virility was taken for granted by the quintet of young Spanish lovelies. They had never known another man and had simply assumed that the great truncheon he bore at his middle was what most men produced for the entertainment of their women. Even at forty, Alonzo was a formidable performer in bed. Perhaps it was the sizzling stimulus of the tender young skin, of their full bursting breasts, of their waist-length black hair, or of their wide, expectant, eager eyes that danced with lightning sparks when he made them come. Whatever, Alonzo had the capacity to go through at least two of them every evening, stretching out the love-play and the copulation and the aftermath so that even if three of the girls didn't have the joy of his cock plunging into their middle, he brought them climaxing in tongue tantalizing or finger-loving.
The man always respected their privacy and a quiet knock at one of the two bedroom doors was the prelude to the fun and games. He was always very punctual, to give the girls plenty of time to ready themselves with oils and perfumes and pleasing costumes. It was also always understood that the favorite in each of the bedrooms would have the benefit of his cunt madness for that evening, but that the other girl in the room that was used by two, or the two others in the room occupied by Maria, Estralita, and Conchita, would be spectators and teasers watching the frolic.
Part of the reason for Alonzo's respect of the privacy of the girls was the maturing of Rodriguez. His father had observed the boy's growth, especially in those parts that were every good Ortega's pride and joy and even before his tenth birthday; Alonzo saw the makings of a formidable man. Formidable competition, too, if he didn't keep his son squarely in his place.
It was on his tenth birthday that trouble really came home to Alonzo. Prior to that time, he had never seen any evidence of arousal in Rodriguez, even though his phallus dangled an alarming six inches limp, it was still uncrowned by any pubic hair and still very quiescent. Alonzo watched the boy carefully, aware that almost any time the adolescent hungers of the lad would be stirred. He kept the girls' bedroom doors fast closed to keep stimulating sights and sounds from the ears of Rodriguez across the hall ... that is, until one of the girls tripped up on the security precautions on the night of his birthday.
They all loved Rodriguez and all surrounded him with kisses and cuddling at the table after he had blown the candles on his birthday cake. A stray hand was just bound to wander when five lovelies clustered around the ten-year-old's slim frame to cuddle and congratulate him. Fortunately, the table cloth obscured the wandering hand of Teresa, one of the two older girls, who slipped her fingers between his legs and gave well-developed balls and stem a playful tweak as the others kissed and hugged him.
Result: Rodriguez' cock sprang to instant attention! Shortly thereafter, he excused himself to go to his room and study and there he tore out of his trousers to examine the once-again burgeoning length. It was unbelievably twice the length of its normal limp state.
"Whatever is it for?" he wondered to himself.
Half-an-hour later, still puzzled, he was crawling into bed, just as he heard the soft knock on the girls' bedroom door across the hall.
"Estralita, my baby ... tonight, I play with you," Alonzo announced as he stepped into the half-light of the first bedroom. Estralita was a vision of tawny skinned Spanish loveliness as she writhed happily on the bed and waited for, the rest of the man to emerge from behind his silken bathrobe. His broad mushroom cap blossomed in dark hunger from the silk.
Just then Maria leaped from Estralita's side where she had been braiding the dark lengths across the forehead of the girl.
Alonzo, who had already stepped from the silk and was lip-loving the inner thighs and the dark triangle of Estralita's prominent sex mound, scarcely heard Maria's departure.
"I just remembered," she said as she skipped, nearly-nude across the hall, "I forgot Rodriguez' good-night kiss ... be right back!"
Hurrying to the boy's bedside to brush his cheek with sisterly affection, she never noticed the tent in the sheets halfway down the boy's length, so eager was she to get back to the sex play. Then she did the unforgiveable and left the boy's door half ajar as she dashed across the hall and back into her room. That door, too, was forgotten and for the first time in his ten years, Rodriguez was given a ringside seat to the orgiastic scene of his three nude and wonderfully contoured half-sisters romping gaily with his hugely erected and aroused father.
As he watched, Rodriguez' hand stroked excitedly at the same bone he saw his father putting to such impassioned thrusts squarely up the middle of Estralita. He watched as Maria and Conchita each selected one of Alonzo's nipples to nibble and tantalize, and he followed with his own hand what he saw Maria doing to his father's balls.
Then he heard the delirium of joy breaking from both Estralita's lips and his father's at the same moment.
"It must be wonderfully exciting to be able to do that!" Rodriguez thought with all his ten-year-old wisdom.
For a moment, no one saw him as he stepped nude and huge into the bedroom. It was Conchita who first looked up from his nesting place in the midst of the quartet who had been resting after the first of the evening's orgasms.
"Rodriguez!" she exclaimed, ogling the monumental length that proceeded so stiffly from his groin.
"What the devil!" exploded Alonzo, lifting his head from the close-up inspection he had been giving to Maria's sweet pink-fleshed cunt lips.
"I ... I want to play, too," announced Rodriguez very matter-of-factly as he stood frigging lightly along the foot-long stem at his groin.
It called for some dramatic, fast-thinking action on the part of the older man.
"Son," he answered, "you're going to have more play than you know what to do with, with a tool like that ... but not yet."
The girls groaned in disappointment. It seemed like the only fair thing to allow another prick into the evenings ... after all, there were five of them, ready, eager, and able to take all that both lengths had to offer.
So Alonzo explained that it was just not done in families. "After all, sisters are sisters," he protested, weakly. He decided to assuage the boy's obvious disappointment. Perhaps it was the sudden, relentless growth that his own sex machine was undergoing as he looked in envy at the hard-on his son boasted in such naive innocence. It wasn't that he had any personal attraction for that youthful erection, but it did inflame his desires to tangle with another of the girls without delay.
Alonzo rose from the bed and stood spread-legged before Rodriguez and the girls, now joined by the two older sisters, stared hotly at the confrontation of the aroused cocks of father and son. Already, the boy's was fully the length of the father's!"
"Here's how I want you to take care of yourself until I say you're ready," Alonzo declared and the boy followed suit as he watched the intensive stroking of the other penis.
"Oh! It's his birthday!" protested Teresa, who had first laid a hand on the boy's prick there at the birthday table. "Why not let us keep him satisfied in that kind of way and well promise never to take him between our legs till you say he's allowed."
Reluctantly, Alonzo consented. It seemed the least he should do for the lad and happily the quintet of Spanish lovelies danced with their brother over to his bedroom, with a naked and agitated father following to watch.
Expectantly, Rodriguez stretched out of his bed and let his tool soar toward the ceiling.
"Here's what well do," declared Teresa, the oldest. "Our lips are the same as our hands and for the first time, each one of us gets to kiss and love his pretty bone one time. Well go round and round the clock to see how long it takes to make him come splashing!"
By now, the boy's passions were at fever-heat as the youngest, Conchita, bent to propel the acorn redness deep into her lips. The full, sensuous pouting lips of these twentieth century Castilians were like suction pumps and even one draught pulled deeply at the groin of the fledgling lover.
"I'm going to do it ... I'm going to!" he squealed eagerly as the long drawn-out suction of the lips of Isabella brought his spunking flow roaring up the stem.
Wildly, Teresa dove for her turn at the cock and had no more than buried the cap and inches of the white length from sight when the barrage of sperm raced for freedom.
"Look! Look!" she shrieked in a delirium of joy as she extracted the exploding phallus from her mouth and held the rain of joy-juice aloft for all to see.
"It's beautiful!" chorused the others as they thrust eager hands under the droplets to capture the waterfall of his virginal blast and rub it across their nipples and cunty mounds.
Unable-to bear his frustration any longer, Alonzo seized Teresa and dragged her, screaming with delight, into the bedroom across the hall and dove into her super-heated love nest.
So the life of the times around the Ortega household underwent a drastic change in the bedtime fun for Rodriguez.
A still not-too-happy Alonzo permitted the five to send him off to his boyish dreams as sated and satisfied as frigging and frenching could make him. By his fifteenth year, Rodriguez had been thoroughly nursed and sucked and manipulated and now he was ready to try an idea of his own.
He got it one afternoon when he heard the bath water running in the girls' bathroom. He listened for a moment and made sure that just one girl was in the upstairs, then slipped quietly toward the bath.
He peered through the slightly opened door and saw what he had hoped to see. It was the voluptuous Teresa, bending from her hips to adjust the warmth of the water flow into the tub.
Rodriguez had already freed his mountain of hardness and slipped quickly into the room and straight for his target-the lovely crevice between the cheeks of her sensational buttocks.
"This is a different hole than the one Daddy says to stay away from," he had reasoned to himself earlier.
He was a well-muscled fifteen-year Adonis by now and it was a totally surprised Teresa who felt the powerful hands seize her hips and propel her body flush on to a mighty flesh spear. Firmly, but gently, the boy reamed into the yielding aperture.
"Oh ... Daddy! I didn't know you were home. Whatever are you doing ... you've never...!" Already she was gasping with the pain and the pleasure of the invading muscle.
"Do it to me ... push ... oh! It hurts ... but I want it!" Teresa thrust hotly with her satiny buttocks against the bold length that was ramming hotly into new territory.
Slowly the two sagged to the bathroom carpet, Teresa, still not able to turn and look at her attacker. Then she felt his pulsations tense and his whole body tremble as the crisis roared.
"It's goody-good!" Teresa screamed as his orgasm brought on her own spunking eruption."
"Rodriguez, whatever are you doing!"
It was Isabella, staring in amazement and intrigue at the last of the frenzy on the floor.
"I'm not doing anything Daddy said not to," protested Rodriguez as Isabella tried to pry him from Teresa's still-convulsing flank.
"He didn't, either," agreed Teresa as she looked in adoration at Rodriguez. "It feels so delicious ... let him do it to you, Isabella!"
Isabella was more than willing and before Daddy returned from work Rodriguez was more than gratified by the arrival of the three other sex-pots who wanted to trial flight through the rear entrance.
It was so much fun for the boy that his imagination worked overtime on ways to get away with the flank attack even in the more public places of the Ortega house. He had never been an enthusiast for the kitchen, what with six women around to do the cooking and dishes. Now suddenly, he had a great desire to help!
No one appreciated his help more than the girls, and every evening, Rodriguez would grab a dishtowel, and dry lustily at the plates and glasses as he stood directly behind the washer.
They developed a neat pattern of action in which he would slip the skirt of the washer up to allow his tool to drive into the waiting target, while his happy victim tried to keep up the pretense of washing dishes. All went well till one night Rodriguez was carried away with his rutting thrusts and came spraying with unusual ferocity into the happy tail of Maria ... just as she picked up a great glass pitcher.
The pitcher hit the side of the sink with a crash, accompanied by Maria's scream, a mixture of pain from the glass cut and joy from the orgasm pouring into her.
Mother was at the sink before Rodriguez could extract and hide his bone hardness!
"He's becoming worse than his father!" declared the irate woman. Outraged, she ordered Rodriguez from the house to find himself a job and stop "as of this minute" bothering his sisters.
"But they're not really my sisters," he protested ... but in vain.
The upper West nineties are not the happiest streets of New York for an unwanted boy. He had no friends and there were no jobs. Worse, the gang structure of the Westside was already pretty congealed and Rodriguez was an outcast.
The Black Knights, led by "Turk" Monada took even more violent exception to Rodriguez' attempts to edge his way into their midst.
"Let's really fix the little shithead," Turk declared. He had no reason in particular for wanting to finish the Ortega jerk. He had seen the response in the eyes of Tina, his special broad, as she had sized up the boy when he first overtured for entrance to the gang.
"I know all about him ... he's a creep and a fruit," sneered the gang leader. "I say, tonight, we hang his balls on Grant's Tomb."
It sounded to all the gang like the perfect sport for a summer's evening, so. they lay in wait for Rodriguez to return home. It was Turk who flattened him with a bat as he walked by their hiding-place there in the dark stairs of the basement entrance.
It was a sneering Turk who produced the executioner's switch-blade when they had carried the unconscious Rodriguez to the tomb of the Civil War hero.
"Strip the little bastard," he ordered.
Stretched bare-naked, with one of the gang at each hand and foot, Rodriguez slowly came around. Tina and the other girls were staring in fascination at the formidable size of his sexual parts as they dangled between his legs.
Tina whispered to Turk, who thought her idea was great. She bent across the prostrate body and whispered comforting words to the terrified Rodriguez. Gradually he relaxed ... he believed her that this was part of his initiation to the gang.
Before their lust-filled eyes, his penis soared from the shadows of his thighs and reared in gigantic hardness at the ceiling of the Tomb. Impulsively, Tina bent and seized the exciting length and dove to push the giant cone between her lips.
Turk belted fier a full ten feet from the outstretched Rodriguez.
"You've got him the way we want him ... now, I'll take over!" Turk pressed his finger and the switch-blade was suddenly gleaming in the light from the street. With a menacing cut at the air, Turk knelt to drive the blade into the groin of his victim.
"No!" screamed Tina. "I think you're just jealous of his size!
Turk paused and looked in hate at his girl. It was a lost battle. If he swung the blade, he lost stature with the gang after her accusation. He had to find another punishment.
He flipped the blade shut.
"Okay ... here's how we do it! This little shit has nothing ... ya hear? ... nothing but a lot of meat. Let's see how he can use it."
He bent and hissed into Rodriguez' ear, "C'mon, lover boy ... you're gonna have to demonstrate that you're a man if you want to wear that prick home tonight."
Half an hour later the Black Knights were at a corner diagonally across from a Times Square Go-Go joint. Turk gestured at the second floor. The sign on the window read...."Swinging Lessons Here." In the light of the spot at the window, the writhing fanny of one of the girls wriggled invitingly to the street below to lure customers upstairs.
"You want to live out the night ... you're gonna screw that piece of ass right in front of me," Turk laughed. He knew the order was well-nigh impossible to carry out. A moment later, a despairing Rodriguez followed Turk across Broadway as the rest of the Black Knights stayed below to watch the action.
It came fast.
An eager manager of the Go-Go Dance Salon was having a very bad night. Tourists seemed to disbelieve the wriggling ass in the picture glass second-story window as a phony trap. The swirling contour of the girl on display, sizzling side-to-side, her long blonde hair rippling over the curve of her back and the contour of her tail ... that was real. But apparently it wasn't convincing. The joint was nearly empty and half a dozen bored, topless instructors lounged at the side in the shadows and looked disinterestedly at the, two patrons, Turk and Rodriguez.
"Couple of broke Spies," muttered one of the girls next to her.
"Can I help you gentlemen?" asked the more hopeful manager.
"Yeah ... my friend here, he wants lessons," answered Turk.
"Cost you five for the best hour you've ever had, young man ... and, like you see, you've got your choice of the house," he indicated sadly in the direction of the lounging girls.
"I'd ... I'd ... uh, like the one in the window," replied Rodriguez.
"Some babe, eh," leered the manager as he glanced across the dark floor toward the spot-lighted window. "Wait'll you see the set she's got ... doubt if you'll want to dance."
That was just what was bugging Rodriguez as he walked in the near darkness toward the distant wriggling figure. How do you screw a girl in a window looking down on Broadway?
"Customer for you, Darlene," called the manager as Rodriguez drew near the nearly nude girl. She had thrown her long blonde hair over her shoulders to conceal the fact that she wore no bra straps, and a shimmering circle of silver tassles hung around her waist to accent her hip action. Rodriguez was instantly entranced by the near see-through tassles. He was almost certain that she wore no panties beneath!
Darlene threw her head back and her magnificent boobs bounced high in the spotlight. She was a wild and sizzling female, obviously delighted at the approach of a customer to relieve the boredom of swinging alone in the corner window.
"Ever dance before?" she asked of Rodriguez, who was transfixed by the two lovely mounds, with their dark centers pointing eagerly at him.
"Yeah ... no ... well ... uh ... not very much," he replied. "My sisters have taught me a little bit."
"Don't your sisters have these, too," taunted the proud Darlene, enjoying his discomfort at the sight of her breasts dancing so prominently in the light.
"I can't believe they're for real . ... they're just super," exclaimed Rodriguez.
"Well, thank you, sir ... now let's get started," Darlene answered.
The terror of the evening and the demands the Black Knights had put on him with this Darlene, began to recede as he felt her body's warmth and smelled her soft perfume. He was a natural dancer and soon Darlene wondered why he had come over for lessons. Then she began to think she knew. The spotlight would occasionally fall on his pant's leg and all at once Darlene saw the length that was extending along it.
"You have problems, young man?" she asked, as she stared openly at the thickened and now stiff cloth that stood away from his thigh to a length Darlene had never seen before.
It was time for his move. Trusting to the darkness at the perimeter of the spot, he flipped open his fly and whipped the monstrous erection into bold view. Darlene was stunned ... for an instant it almost halted her wiggle.
"Geez ... now I gotta ask you the same thing ... ,are you for real?" she demanded.
"Come here, baby," commanded a suddenly pussy-hungry Rodriguez. He dragged her close to his waist and she could feel the hot tip of his tool pressing against her bare midriff. Before she could protest, he bent slightly at the knees and seizing the broad red cone, guided his cock up between her now spreading thighs.
"Oh ... you bastard ... ohhh!! I ... they'll bust us...." Darlene felt her head swimming from the delicious savagery of his penetration.
"Come on, baby ... fly," begged Rodriguez as he thrust more of his huge manhood into the suddenly moist quim.
"Ohhh ... yes ... ohhh ... I can't take it ... I want it...." Darlene's whole body was snatched up in the convulsive approach of orgasm, and the rod wasn't even halfway into her.
"I'm going ... oh ... do it ... screw me," she begged as he thrust wildly into her. Then Darlene was caught up in the throes of orgasm. She lost all control of her body in the wild sweep of her spunking flow, and her body flung forcefully back against the grip at her hips as though to drag him to the floor. Head and shoulders, bounding breasts, her satiny white middle, were all exposed in clear view to the street below ... and clearest of all, was the rail that drove with half its length exposed, full into her crotch!
"Bill! Look at that!" Jim McGovern barked at his patrol car partner as they cruised down Broadway. He'd often assessed Darlene's tail in the window on passing by the Go-Go joint ... now, before his eyes he could see someone was pumping himself into her delicious body!
Like a reflex he hit the siren as the car raced the half block to the corner and swung to the curb. It was the siren and the sight of the winking red light that snapped Rodriguez out of his near-orgasm. Like a madman he ejected from Darlene's love-pit and, leaving her writhing on the floor, Rodriguez dashed madly for the stairs, stuffing his hard-on from sight as he ran.
He steamed full tilt past the two officers who were more intent on busting the joint and catching the girl than in some panicked customer. Right behind him was the crazy Turk, determined to do for Rodriguez once and for all. The Black Knights had split the scene once the siren lit up and the pursued and his pursuer roared up Broadway through the tourist throngs.
If Rodriguez had been tired when he started running, it was impossible to tell it the way he streaked for safety. Twenty blocks at full throttle he ran, tearing across streets, against red lights, urged on by every blackward glance that let him see that Turk was still in pursuit.
At last he saw it. The dark tree-shrouded sanctuary of Central Park! He dove from sight into the blackness and kept running till he could see no sign of the outraged gang leader behind him. He listened. All was quiet. He looked and saw that he was at the Sailboat Pond. And then fatigue hit him. He staggered, still breathless, to one of the stone benches and sagged in near-collapse on the hard length of the bench. In a half-conscious near-sleep he thought of Darlene and wondered how she had fared with the cops. Then he remembered her rich body and her thrusting breasts ... and then the interruption that had kept him from finishing. The thought drove the pressure into his groin and he felt his prick begin to rise. Then he passed out.
Some fifteen minutes later, there was a movement in the Park at the far side of the Sailboat Pond. It was still for a moment as the figure looked round the little lake for any signs of people. Then she spied the sleeping form on the bench.
Gloria Hard had seen her first sight of Rodriguez Ortega. Wonder of wonders, her study of the reclining figure picked up the swelling ... that huge stalk at his groin!
Intrigued, she slipped silently around the pond toward the unconscious Rodriguez. Then, fearing to wake him, she sank softly to the grass behind the bench to watch the quiver along his pants leg. For a few moments she simply stared in a trance and she never heard the quiet approach behind her. By some stroke of luck, Turk had wandered down the right path and emerged on the Sailboat Pond himself. Directly in front of him he saw the beautiful female and just beyond, closer to the pond's edge, he saw the sacked-out Rodriguez.
"His dame!" thought Turk. "I'll fix his goddamned wagon and take her right in front of him."
Just then, Rodriguez stirred and turned suddenly frightened eyes toward Gloria. Turk edged back into the blackness of the trees.
"Who are you?" asked Rodriguez.
"I'm Gloria," she answered.
Something happened between those two from two separate worlds right then. Call it sex-fever or whatever, as Rodriguez crept from the bench and stole to the side of Gloria, both seemed to understand the other.
Without a word, he stripped her of her clothing and she of his. She was unable to believe the size of the manhood that pounded into sight from his crotch. It thundered in bold arrogance and as though all the nights of the world had prepared them for this moment, she reached possessively to stroke his hardness. Tenderly, she reached below the stem and hefted the crammed balls, bulging and ripe with juices.
"I'm Rodriguez," he said simply, as he stroked the satin smoothness of her shoulders, then wonderingly he ran his warm fingers across her startlingly perfect globes. He cupped under them and then let his finger drift to touch smoothly at a turgid nipple. Gloria gasped in hunger and thrust herself proudly forward to invite his bold manipulating.
Neither could wait an instant longer and as though on signal, Gloria lay quietly back and opened her legs in invitation to his love. Her hips ground hungrily upward and as Turk watched in momentary awe, he saw the mons veneris swelling.
It was then that the hunger for Gloria struck Turk and gave him the perfect finale for Rodriguez. He would let him sink his cock into the girl and then when he was well seated in the saddle, Turk could easily disembowel him!
Intrigued, the gang leader watched as the dainty pink cunt lips yielded to make passage for the huge mushroom cap. Ever so slowly, Rodriguez' spear disappeared from view and then before he could move, Turk watched the two suddenly collapse in a striving, writhing bundle of orgasm happiness as the crisis swept through them.
"The sonofabitch couldn't wait!" Turk .muttered as he peeled off his pants. With a roar he dove from behind the bush, his prick dancing in stiff cocksureness, as he ran. Rodriguez ejected from Gloria as though shot.
"I'm going to kill you, lover boy!" Turk screamed as he leaped at Rodriguez' back...."and then I'm gonna screw your broad and kill her when I'm done!" The blade slashed and Gloria saw a long gash slice down the arm of a momentarily transfixed Rodriguez.
Then he reacted. It was the sight of the blood that did it. He seized his shirt and wrapped it in a quick shield around his forearm and crouched to wait for his attacker.
Gloria stared horrified, caught up in the sheer animal splendor of the two. Both had gigantic hard-ons, and as they wove and dodged for advantage, the rails stood eerie and bone-like away from their bodies. It was primitive and barbaric and somehow Gloria knew that one of the two would die this night.
With a cry, Rodriguez caught Turk in an off-balance moment and kicked viciously at his knees as he started to topple. The knife clattered to the ground and in a mad grab, Rodriguez scooped the knife and drove it full into the lower stomach of the Turk ... and theri he twisted!
Before Gloria's astonished eyes Turk's manhood flipped into the air as the conquered gang leader screamed an unearthly cry. It was over before it even began and a panting, breathless Rodriguez was throwing Gloria's clothing at her as he grabbed for his own trousers.
"Run!" Rodriguez yelled at Gloria. "There's others behind him!"
The terrified girl rushed to grab the wounded arm of her savior.
"You must let me come with you ... you're hurt!"
"No ... Go!" Rodriguez cried. "I'll call the cops. Maybe they can save him, but you've got to run."
For a tearful instant she looked at the man she had known but a few minutes.
"I love you," she whispered as she turned to go.
All the way home to Sutton Place she wondered if she had heard what she thought she had heard him say...."Me, too," it sounded like.
Rodriguez raced from the Park from the West 72nd Street entrance and hurried home to safety.
The next day Gloria read the little item on the inner pages of the NEWS. "Gang leader slain," the headline read. "The reputed leader of the Black Knights was found savagely mutilated in what the police surmise was a rival gang killing last night in Central Park." Sadly Gloria put down the paper. There was no way of telling where her wonderful lover had come from. Only the music of the word "Rodriguez" kept dancing through her mind.
It was still the central thought she had when she visited the doctor two months later.
"I'm afraid you're in an awkward position, Miss Hard," said the physician when he finished examining her for what she had described as early morning nausea.
"Why, doctor ... whatever could be wrong?" Gloria asked.
"I would be much happier to tell you this if you were a married woman," he went on. "But I think you're going to have to pay the piper. You're pregnant!"
A stunned Gloria stumbled from the office, still not believing that she was to have a baby ... and secretly thrilled. If she couldn't have Rodriguez, at least she could have what was partly his.
To say that Dottie Hard was shocked, is to put it mildly.
"I will make arrangements and we will have this problem disposed of," she decided.
"You will do no such thing!" screamed Gloria at her mother. "I am going to move out to save you from embarrassment with your dirty old friends. Daddy left me plenty of money so I can take care of myself."
"Why, you little hussy ... you don't even know who the father is!" screeched Dottie.
"Is that so different from people who pretend what isn't so?" snapped Gloria. Dottie Hard stared in perplexed amazement.
Was it possible? she wondered to herself. Does Gloria know who her real father is? The thought was overwhelming.
Gloria's mother waved a frustrated hand, "Then go," she said.
CHAPTER FOUR
The hospital in white plains to which Gloria had retreated for the birth of her expected child was agog with excitement.
"Henrietta, you have just got to come by the nursery and see what we have there," whispered a giggling nurse to the superintendent of the Special Care Floor.
Henrietta hurried to the Maternity section and went with Wilma, her informant, to the incubator.
"So what's so special ... just another preemie," she murmured as Wilma lifted the cover.
"Oh, no ... wait till you see this one," Wilma announced and threw back the light covering sheet that lay across the tiny body of the newborn Rodney Hard.
At first glance, the body was red and wrinkled and about as distinguished as a prune as it lay there, fists clenched, mouth open in a squawking outraged bellow at the world.
Then Henrietta glanced at the three-cornered diaper and her mouth dropped open in amazement.
"Let me see ... let me see!" she demanded as Wilma bent to unfasten the pins. Dramatically, Wilma threw open the concealing diapers and there, to the unbelieving inspection of the growing assembly of nurses was a premature baby with a fully-developed erection!
"Will you look at the size of it, too!" exclaimed one of the girls.
"That's why he's a preemie ... couldn't wait to get going," laughed another.
The grotesque phallus soared straight away from the little body, quivering and eager. There was no question that it was a first in White Plains and in the judgment of the O.B. staff, the first in the world.
What none of them knew was the fact that in one Rodney Hard there had been a dynamic mixing of the supersexed genes of the Hard and the Ortega lines.
It was an absolute frustration for the director of public relations at the White Plains Hospital to have such a hot story of a famous first and not be able to break it to the newspapers. He knew damned well that no one would print it.
The astonishing little boy that she had borne was pure delight to Gloria. In the months before his arrival she had set herself up in a plush pad in Manhattan's new East Side where she intended with the sizeable fortune left her by her father, to live and raise the expected child in luxury. She also hoped that one day she might find the beautiful man who called himself Rodriguez. Even in the vastness of the city, Gloria was sure that one day their paths would again cross.
When she was ready to leave the hospital with her six-weeks-old Rodney, Wilma went with her to the taxi stand, carrying the tiny cloth-wrapped bundle. Through the folds she could feel the length of the hot erection ... longer than many men she had known!
She handed the baby through the taxi door to his mother.
"I wish you a lot of luck with Rodney, Gloria!" said Wilma. "Something tells me, you're going to need it."
"No more than any other mother," Gloria snapped back at the nurse.
During the weeks of impatient waiting for the little preemie to achieve a weight and strength sufficient for the doctors to release him to her, Gloria had done volumes of reading on the subject of genetics and all of her study had been frustrated. Somehow she suspected the possibility that little Rodney's inherent sexuality might have been inherited. She found in one or two medical books on the subject of the transmission of traits from one generation to another that there was some suspicion that the proper combination of genes might intensify the sexual behavior pattern. But there was no authoritative conclusion to the speculation.
All that Gloria knew was that by some oddity in the processes of nature she had a son who several times a day wore a fully developed erection!
Once alone, in the privacy of her apartment, her self-consciousness about the phenomenon began to slacken and she found herself amused by the condition. Rodney seemed most frequently aroused during feeding time and Gloria quickly accommodated herself to the incongruity. She had no intention of losing the firm, full beauty of her breasts through the risks of natural feeding of the infant. Consequently, she went to the formula and the bottle even though the several attempts at breast feeding at the hospital had given her pleasurable erotic sensations as the baby nibbled at her nipple.
She found that with Rodney cupped directly under her breasts, he could nurse the nipple of the bottle while she nursed the sturdy length of bone hardenss that reamed up from his groin into the deep crevice between her boobs. When the bottle was finished and the burping done, the boy would gurgle as though he knew it was the game time. At this tender age, Gloria limited fun and games to wig-wagging the phallus back and forth from one nipple to the other.
It was just about the end of the bottle period when Rodney's first orgasm seized him toward the middle of the pendulum-like swinging that Gloria was giving the eager organ. She felt the little body stiffen and a tremor rifle through its length and suddenly, from the tip of the stem a cloudy gout of greyish-white semen rushed. She was overwhelmed at the sight and thrust his penis between her breasts, burying it in the full whiteness as she pressed the mounds together. The cock was hot and trembling as the eruption poured freely and wildly into the hastily formed tunnel. It dashed against the underside of her chin and dribbled warmly across her turgid nipples.
Gloria shivered with the pure delight of the sensation and putting the boy on the bed beside her, she massaged the droplets across the satiny skin of her milk-white orbs. As she manipulated her nipples with the sticky substance she felt the dizzy-headed urgings of desire.
It had been so long! Months and months since any man had touched her and now, desperately, she was in need of a male to take her and dominate her fully. The incredible Rodney himself even looked good to her as he lay gurgling and satisfied on the pillow.
She looked round the lovely apartment that she had furnished. It was a two-bedroom condominium, one bath, a step-down living room with kitchen offset from the living area, and obscured behind louvred doors. Small, but luxuriously appointed. Carpeted and draped throughout with rich crimsons and gold, the effect of the entire apartment was one of sensuous delight. The recessed level of the living room gave one the feeling of entering an arena dedicated to the soft pleasures of life, the indirect lighting, the giant pile cushions that served instead of conventional seating-all spoke of a decorator whose intentions were to wrap the visitor in an aura of ancient Rome.
Gloria's bedroom was dominated by the same theme of total sensuality. Sensuality in perfect taste. Heavy drapes of burgundy velvet hung at the windows and the same color tone was sustained around the walls. The carpeting was an even deeper pile than that of the living room and had a soft weaving pattern of black and white. Like a golden altar, the queen-size bed dominated the scene. Closets, dresser, and all accoutrements were out of sight behind paneled areas that slipped open at the press of a button. It was a room dedicated to the single theme of sexual pleasure.
When Dottie Hard came to visit her daughter and grandson, she spent most of the hour in the boy's bedroom. Secretly she admired Gloria's determination to raise the boy without benefit of father. Her visit came during one of Rodney's quiescent periods and oven when Dottie changed his diapers and diddled the limp penis momentarily, in awe of its size in proportion to his body, the boy showed no response.
"Strange how out of proportion a baby's parts are to the adult body," she observed to Gloria.
"I knew that the baby's head is always large in comparison," and she looked curiously at the dangling length at Rodney's groin, "but I've never seen a baby boy at this age. Are they always so big there?"
Gloria shrugged her shoulders. "The doctor says that he's perfectly normal."
As Dottie rose to leave the crib side, she peeked into Gloria's bedroom and then did a double-take at the appointments in the living room. She caught her breath and looked disapprovingly at her daughter.
"No need to ask what you intend to do about entertaining," she said tartly. "Just remember that you do have a child to raise."
After that visit, Gloria had seen nobody for weeks, except the boy bringing the groceries, an occasional delivery from the drug store, and some assorted repairmen.
"The telephone man!" she thought to herself as her loneliness clawed at her. "He was giving me the eye when he was installing the phone."
She remembered his name, Danny Hartman. She knew it wasn't because of the sameness of the first syllable to her own last name that she remembered Danny Hartman. It was because of the generous evidence of his manly parts she had observed as he stretched up from his step-ladder to bury the telephone wire behind a conduit in the kitchen.
Gloria wondered if Danny had meant the double entendre as he had looked at her meaningfully while he sheathed the wire under the metal conduit.
"Gotta keep everything out of sight, don't we?" He'd said it just as she had been studying the prominent bulge at his crotch.
She dialed the telephone business office.
"Do you have a Daniel Hartman on one of your service trucks in the East Side of Manhattan?"
The voice at the other end acknowledged that the company did and was there anything wrong?
"No," replied Gloria. "I found his screw driver behind the stove in the kitchen after he left and I wanted to tell him it was here if he wanted it back."
The business office knew that Mr. Hartman would be delighted to know what had happened to it since most of the men carried their own tools.
"While I have you on the line," Gloria went on, "perhaps Mr. Hartman could be assigned to put in a couple of extensions in my apartment when he comes by. I'm settled now and know where I want them."
"Very good, ma'am," said the voice. "I'll see that he comes by within five days."
"Five days.!" groaned Gloria. "Do I have to wait that long?"
"Sorry, Mrs. Hard. I'm afraid we're far behind on our schedule. The strike has backed everything up."
Gloria was a sea of frustration as she replaced the receiver. Five whole days! She remembered the repairman. He was a handsome, lean-bodied, easy-going boy, only a couple of years older than herself. He wasn't married, she knew. High school drop-out, he'd told her, and determined to make good with the phone company before he thought about marriage.
She was at the phone before the second ring the following afternoon.
"Anything for the sound of a real live human voice!" Gloria thought as she grabbed for the instrument.
"Mrs. Hard?"
It was Danny Hartman!
Her spirits soared at the sound of his masculine voice and she had to fight to keep a note of formality to her voice.
"The office told me that you found one of my tools after I left," the repairman said. "Yes, I did," she responded.
"Well, I know it's late in the day, but would you mind if I come pick it up? It's one of my own and I could use it tomorrow."
"Of course. You can come anytime. I'll be right here all evening."
"Great!" was the answer. "Be by in about half an hour." Gloria was a hurricane of activity for the next thirty minutes.
Then the buzzer sounded and the doorman advised Mrs.
Hard that she had a man from the telephone company calling who said she had a tool belonging to him that he'd come to pick up.
"Yes, send him up," said Gloria.
Danny Hartman remembered the apartment very well. He remembered its wealthy young resident even better. The fact was that Danny Hartman had deliberately left his crew driver, the seven-dollar job clearly initialed D.H., behind the stove that day when he'd made the phone installation. He'd noticed Gloria's frequent glances run the length of his body. He'd noticed, too, in repeated quick casings, what a fantastic figure the girl had. If his guess was correct, she might be very anxious to return his tool to him personally. The very thought of it had made another tool itch madly with hope.
Danny could barely restrain the gasp that fought to escape when he saw the woman who opened the door. Her long platinum-blonde hair tumbled loosely about her shoulders, her eyes were large and dark and sparkled their welcome under the long lashes. He remembered the perfection of her soft, almost cameo-like skin, but on his first call he hadn't seen so much of it! Tonight she was clad in a pink whipped-cream-type housecoat that was nearly transparent. The lines of the voluptuous female body beneath were clearly spelled out; thrusting breasts of rounded perfection whose dark centers could just be seen through the pink of the housecoat; wide, wonderful hips whose contours flowed out dramatically from her narrow waist. He didn't dare follow the figure further lest she notice his study!
Her mouth was parted in surprise as she swung open the door.
"Golly! You got here fast! I didn't have a chance to change."
He stepped inside the foyer.
"I just stepped out of the bathtub." Gloria looked down demurely. "Hardly any way to welcome someone at the door."
"Oh, that's all right, Mrs. Hard. I hated to bother you in the evening, but the girl at the switchboard told me...." his voice trailed off as he followed Gloria back toward the kitchen.
"Here you are," she announced as she picked up the screwdriver. She held it close to her midriff, pressing the pink dacron snug against her bust. A tortured Danny Hartman could just catch the sight of the now-taut nipples thrusting through the cloth. He wanted to stare but he was too afraid to be that obvious.
"First, you've got to tell me what's on the handle," she smiled mischievously.
"Should say 'D.H.', I think," he laughed.
"Right! And the gentleman in the fifth row wins this fine tool!" Gloria announced, as she presented the screwdriver to the now overheated Danny. The flourish of her presentation flipped open the corner of the housecoat and he caught a fleeting glimpse of a provocative mound as it played peek-a-boo for an instant before she caught the cloth and snugged it tight to her lovely throat.
"You people are just so terribly busy and I'm just awfully disappointed," Gloria said as she led the way from the kitchen back to the door.
"Why's that, ma'am?" asked Danny.
"I had been so hoping to have someone from the phone company give me a little time to figure out the best places for my extensions, now that I'm settled in."
"Well, I ... we'd be glad to, Mrs. Hard," Danny declared.
"Not according to your old business office. They said I couldn't get service for five days and to please have my mind made up for the extension locations before the man gets here." She looked at Danny reprovingly. "How am I supposed to know how long the wire can be from the jack and all that sort of thing?"
"Gosh ... I don't know who you talked to. I know I'd be real glad to take all the time you need." lie looked around the room. "You've done a terrific job of decorating."
Gloria was thrilled wilt his appreciation and seized his arm, to snuggle close as she pointed down the step to the sunken level of the living area. "Do you like it? Come! I'll give you the full tour and maybe I can pick your brains while you're right here to find out where the extensions should go."
They went from living room to den to bathroom and finally they stood at the door of Gloria's bedroom.
"Wow!" breathed Danny, feeling the plush sensuality of the gold and black and burgundy.
"Now, I'd like to figure out just the right place for the phone in this room," she said, ignoring Danny's protracted stare at the huge bed that dominated the scene. "Then I'd like another in the bathroom."
He raised his eyebrows. "I don't know if that's too safe, Mrs. Hard."
She grabbed his hand and led him back to the ultra-modern bathroom, dressing room. "Just in case I had an emergency ... or there were burglars, I'd feel safer."
She saw him glance at the oversize bathtub. "I wouldn't use it while I was in there, silly."
"That's a beauty," he admired, as he bent over the sunken six-by-six square. "Looks big enough for a swimming pool!"
"You're funny," Gloria giggled. Then she added, "I think bath time is fun time and it's just awful to be all cramped in."
The combined effect the obvious purposes the bedroom and bath had been designed to serve and the overpowering femininity of the girl at his elbow, by now had had a telling effect on Danny Hartman. His phallus pressed hard and long against the confining cloth of his pants and, fearful lest he had miscalculated Gloria's impetuosity and enthusiasm to show off her apartment, as something else, Danny stepped back out of her line of vision to his excitement.
He was too late! Gloria had spotted the very first quiver of his manhood's arousal.
He wore no ring! That probably meant that he was as ready as she was!
"Slow, Gloria! Make him show his hand," she told herself.
"If you've got a minute more, maybe you could tell me the best installation for my bedroom," she said.
"Oh ... I've got all the time in the world," he answered. "Let's go look."
"Well, here's my problem." They were standing at the edge of the broad expanse of the gold spread.
She put an uncertain finger to her mouth. "I really ought to show you, instead of tell you." She looked in dismay at her lounging dress. He understood at once.
"That's okay, Mrs. Hard. You ought to see how some of my customers dress! You don't have to be embarrassed at all around me."
"I know ... but Mr. Hard would kill me! Oh well, he won't be back from the coast till tomorrow." Gloria enjoyed her little lie. If she had read Danny Hartman correctly, she suspected that a reminder that she had a husband would simply whet his appetite even more to the lure of stolen fruits.
She felt his eyes roving her body more freely already. Time to jab in that little element of danger now to see how badly he wanted to continue their little game.
"Course, he did say he might get back tonight. He knows I can't stand it without him and he's been off on his old business things for over two weeks."
Lord, thought Danny. She must really have a hot box by now! Wonder what would happen if ... He tried to dismiss the thought but it wouldn't go away.
Gloria could feel the electricity of the man's desires! Time for the bold move.
"Well, now, here's where I want the phone," she said, bouncing lightly onto the spread. Danny's head swirled at the sight of her rich body writhing across the gold to bring her near the wall. The pink dacron parted as she strained to indicate the point on the wall near the center of the bed. He simply couldn't withdraw his gaping stare at the fully exposed thighs, the cloth having opened to show him everything except the meeting place of the thighs itself!
Danny was in torment and he barely heard her call as she pressed her hands against the wall.
"Can you pull the bed out about a foot with me on it? I want to show you just where I would like to have the installation."
Still staring at the sleekly tapered muscles of her magnificent legs, Danny could think of only one installation he'd like to make ... and make damn soon if he didn't want to come unstuck.
Instead he answered, pulling on the end of the bed at the same time, "Sure can ... tell me when it's out far enough."
"Fine," he heard her say. "Now come down here and tell me if you can put a jack in ... right about here." As he rounded the head of the bed, he saw the delicate lines of her profile, thrust over the edge of the Hollywood-style bed. She was pointing to a place on the baseboard ... but by now Danny had no eyes or time for a place to install a telephone jack. He saw two other objects pointing as Gloria arched on her back across the pillows, two lovely globes with their turgid cones pointing directly through the pink and toward the ceiling.
She was a totally inflaming sight.
"Hold it right there while I get my pencil from my coat," he told her, hurrying from the room. A man completely possessed with sex fever, he had stripped in less than half a minute and stepped quickly back into the bedroom ... stark naked! His raging erection bounded stiffly as he slipped silently across the pile carpet.
Gloria's head and shoulders were still over the edge at the top of the bed and for a split second Danny paused at the foot to drink in the sight of the wonderfully intoxicating female.
She heard the stifled attempt of the man struggling to catch his breath as he stared and called, innocently, "Did you find your pencil?"
"I've got it right here," he responded as he swept across the foot of the bed, seized at the zipper lock buried deep in the crevice of her suddenly heaving titties.
"Ohhh!" Gloria protested as she felt the rip of the parting zipper lay her wealth bare to the man whose thighs she now felt straddling her own.
"What ... whatever are you doing?" she cried, struggling to fight from her immobilized position. The man's nakedness was sprawled violently across her thrashing body and she felt the delicious length of his prick pressing hard against the flattened muscles of her stomach. Then she felt the bold hands grasp both breasts and dancing fingers maddening the already frantic cherries.
"I'm going to make that installation right now for you!" he hissed.
She put up a convincing struggle. So convincing that Danny Hartman was sure he had misread the signs. He was on the verge of violating a jewel and there'd be hell to pay! Maybe Hard would even come steaming into the room right in the middle of his wife's rape! Goddamn them all ... she's going to get it and get it till she's too cock-happy to do a thing but beg me for more!
Her fingernails clawed at his shoulders as he shifted down her body and thrust the tightly clenched thighs wide apart. The dainty pink crevice was warm and yielding as he brought his great red-acorn cap pressing at the aperture.
Then he was into her! He felt the lips of her cunt snap tightly around the ledge" of the head as it disappeared into Gloria's love center.
"Ooohhhh! Ohhh!" He heard the low pitched cry as Gloria responded to the invader. Her head still dangled over the end of the bed and he could see the tight cords at the side of her neck, the beautiful blue lines of the veins against the milk-white skin, the prominent artery as the blood of her passion and her anger pumped.
Then her hips were wriggling in wild agitation and of a sudden Danny felt the fullness of her thighs wrap round his waist and tug.
"You! You bastard ... you're making me ... making me do it!" she screamed, heaving wildly from her trapped position. "I ... I'm coming ... I ... ohhh!" and he felt her spunking flow bathe the length of his stem as she climaxed.
He was suddenly a driving, maddened tiger as he reamed his cock full into the furnace-hot vagina.
The roaring filled his ears and the room swam dizzily as he felt the rush of his own orgasm. Crazy wild, he drove at the body beneath him. Then it was on him and the cannonade of his ejaculation was roaring deep into that lush female.
His spraying sperm jets triggered Gloria's second climax. The legs round his waist clamped and squeezed and Danny was sure that the whole of his manhood was going to leap free of its root and bury itself in her welcoming depths. The wildness of the moment seemed to go on and on for hours as they drove at each other.
Then it was very quiet.
He could feel the convulsions low in her stomach that thanked him for the gift he had driven into that lush body. He listened breathlessly to her own quiet little gasps as she fought for air. Then tenderly, he slipped his hand beneath the platinum lengths and lifted her head back onto the spread.
Her eyes were squeezed tightly shut and she was biting her lower lip. He could see the tear drops that studded the corners as her face turned to the side away from him. He believed for a moment, that in spite of the 'come on'signals that he had read, he had somehow really gotten the wrong sign and taken her against her will.
The grip of her legs around his waist was still a fierce scissors and as he pressed against the spread to lift himself away from her, he felt her tighten the hold. Then, uncontrollably, Danny sensed the fresh thickening of the invading spear of his body. There was nothing he could do about it! Just after his orgasm the rod had softened enough to withdraw ... but not now.
He felt the snug inner muscles of her vaginal wall grip and hold the now-solid prick. It felt as though she must be stuffed to capacity and yet she was forcing him in deeper and still deeper.
Then, for the first time since her cry of protest, her lips opened.
"You ... you took me by force!" she accused him, turning those wide, innocent eyes to stare moistly at her attacker.
"I ... I'll go, ma'am. I'm sorry. I just couldn't help myself. You looked ... oh, gosh ... you just look too much all pink and soft...." He made an effort to pull free of the encircling legs, but Gloria wouldn't release him.
Danny could hardly believe the next words he heard. "Now you've made me want it," she whispered, half-sobbing. "Take me. Take me again ... but hurry!" she added.
The momentary relief he felt was suddenly shattered again when he repeated her last word. "Hurry?" he asked.
"Yes ... damn you. I can't let you go without doing it again, but you must hurry."
"Why?" Danny asked, mystified.
"Cause I need you, that's why ... but didn't you hear the phone ring twice and then stop?"
He shook his head, still mystified, trying to remember and trying to restrain from thrusting his plank high, wide and crazy, and the hell with the phone ringing, the bomb falling, or rape charges, or anything.
"The double ring is a signal," Gloria said. She enjoyed the desperate flush that struck Danny's face as she amplified the lie.
"Mr. Hard is back from the coast ... that's his signal that hell be here in five minutes."
"Whaaatttt!!!!"
That was the bomb he hadn't cared about just seconds before!
Again he heaved to try to pull away from the clasp of her warm body. Even his penis, buried in that delicious tunnel began to beat an instant retreat.
"No! You can't!" And the scissors grip grew tighter.
Then the writhing hips began to grind against his belly and these superb, explosive breasts were tantalizing and tight against his chest and the magic of this predatory witch had wound around him. He was gone and suddenly he didn't care!
"God! She's got a death wish! She wants to be caught in flagrante delicto!" He remembered the phrase from the stag magazine story he'd read just the week before about just such a babe.
But Danny couldn't stop the fever that was surging through his loins. It might be his very last few minutes of living, and if he had to go ... he'd goddamned well go out with a blast.
The danger ... the imminence of discovery by her husband ... the sheer animal hunger of the sleek female in his arms, drove him jungle-mad.
Hi;, inflamed lust forced Gloria gasping with delight back into the mattress as he rammed every ounce of his strength into each piston thrust of his cock.
"Oh, you man, you ... Do it to me!" she begged and then the crasy-quilt kaleidoscope of frantic fear and cunt hunger hit the crest and the two of them were screaming their orgasmic joys as one voice.
Reason and control seared in on Danny the minute his climax had subsided. Hurriedly he pulled free of the still-panting Gloria and dashed for his clothing. A moment later she heard the door of the apartment slam as her amateur Don Juan raced for safety.
Danny had been a pleasant oasis in the barren Sahara of her recent sexlessness. But Gloria had bigger game in mind and she didn't want Danny thinking for a second that he could arrange a return engagement or maybe even entertain thoughts of regular visits to check on her telephone servicing.
She wasn't surprised when the repair man who appeared five days later to make the installations of the extensions turned out not to be Danny.
CHAPTER FIVE
The call from Arnold Goldstein, Rodney's pediatrician, opened the next avenue for Gloria's interim entertainment.
"But I thought circumcision was only for Jewish children," she said to Dr. Goldstein when he suggested the clipping of Rodney's foreskin.
"Heavens, no!" he laughed, as they stood at the side of the crib looking down at the contented boy who was happily nursing his pacifier. "It's done in most Gentile families nowadays. Most of us recommend it and of course, the earlier the better."
He was studying the enticing woman ... more girl than woman in age ... more woman that: girl with that richly mature figure clad in the briefs and halter in which she had been exercising when he arrived. As he noted the ripe swell of her breasts he understood why she had chosen the bottle rather than breast feeding. "An obvious nut about her body," he concluded to himself, "but then, who'd have a better right to be, with a body like that."
Dr. Goldstein fought to keep his thought-, purely clinical.
"Well, I don't know, doctor," Gloria was saying, "You know all about Rodney's special problem with his penis."
He nodded, feeling an uncomfortable stirring in his groin at the way the girl seemed to fondle the word "penis."
"What difference does that make?" he demanded.
"Only that the minute Rodney is touched down there ... up he comes!" and Gloria emphasized the vertical with a sweep upward of her arm.
"Here! I'll show you," she said, reaching to unpin the diaper.
"Oh, that won't be necessary. I believe you," protested a blushing Dr. Goldstein.
"No! No! I want you to see," and she flicked open the triangle of cloth.
It was just as she said. Arnold Goldstein stared at the familiar way with which she clasped the pendant length and flicked it ... once ... then twice ... and then!
"My God!" breathed the astonished doctor. The limpness was suddenly transformed to a thrusting and formidably mature erection!
"I worry about it so," mourned Gloria. She was bending over the crib in a close scrutiny of the phenomenon and the doctor who had stepped back in shock stared at the perfect symmetry of the backs of her thighs as they sloped down toward her calves. She was an intoxicating female from every angle. He was aware that the condition in his own trousers had suddenly expanded to match that of Rodney and unprofessionally, he had to struggle with his desires not to prod his maledom against the very provocative contour of her tail.
"Just look," she was saying, "he can even climax now!" Gloria was frigging along the length of the stiff flesh and before he could intercede, Goldstein heard the delighted gurgle and gaped unbelieving, as a thin but savage ejaculate of grayish liquid shot from the tip of Rodney's cock.
"It isn't possible," the man murmured.
"I know," agreed Gloria. "What I'm so afraid of is that he's not perfectly normal and hell run out of all his steam before he's even a man!"
Here was something Dr. Goldstein could speak to authoritatively. "Not a chance," and he shook his head dogmatically. "Chances are that his little factory down there will be manufacturing new trouble when he's eighty. There is no clinical evidence to show that a man ever wears out or uses it all up. It's all a lot of old wives' tales."
Gloria giggled, "Or old husband's excuses," she added.
The sweetness of the terribly feminine body still bending across the crib and the light aroma of her cologne was very seductive. He couldn't tear his eyes from the gentle curve of her shoulders as they melted into the exposed pink flesh of her back and thence to the widening hour-glass of her hips.
"Look!" she exclaimed. "He's all hard again! Just as hard as a rock. See, here!" She peeled the foreskin far back so the red mushroom cap was distended and shiny. "I don't think he has a normal shape. Here, feel!"
Gloria seized the doctor's hand and guided it to the broad crown, then ran his fingers round his surface to the underside of Rodney's erection.
"Seems perfectly normal to me," replied the doctor, flushing under the contact of the girl's fingers as she forced him to stroke the turgid length.
"I've simply got to know, Doctor Goldstein. I think all you doctors have been holding something back from me. Is my son, normal?"
"Well ... you know that his condition isn't normal ... but then, we doctors don't know everything. Yes, I think I'd say that your son is perfectly normal except for a little early enthusiasm," and he chuckled a! his wit.
"But how about his shape? Is that normal, too?" Gloria turned worried eyes full on the now red-faced pediatrician.
"Of course."
"Oh, you! I think you're holding back something." Suddenly she reached forward and grabbed for the handle that was now tenting obviously against the doctor's trouser leg.
"I want to see yours to compare with Rodney," she demanded as she moved quickly against his body and slipped open his fly. If he had wanted to protest, he was too late.
"Oh, my gracious!" Gloria burst out. "It's so beautiful! Is that how it looks when it's been circumcized?"
The doctor nodded weakly as he fell her clenching hand race excitedly up and down the white bone of his prick. She fell to her knees, directly in front of his ballooning club and stared at the shiny redness. Then curious fingers were dancing first across the top of the cap, then tracing with devilish erotic sensations along the ledge and finally he felt both her hands cup up under his testicles and heft their soft burden.
"I do hope he grows up to look just like this," murmured Gloria.
"Is there just as much sensation for a circumcized man as for one who isn't?" she asked.
"Maybe more," answered Goldstein. He was floating along on a dizzy cloud from the animalism of the girl and this far gone, he decided to take command.
"Let's go find out." And he gripped her arm and pulled her from the crib side into the vastness of her bed in the next room.
"Wait! Wait ... wait!"' she cried as they leaped naked onto the sheets. "First I want to love you with my lips and have you tell me if it's really exciting that way without the skin to shoot back and forth." She buried his burgeoning crimson top between her lush and liquid lips.
Resting on his elbows, Goldstein watched the platinum bob back and forth as she let the shaft sink far, far back into the recesses of her mouth and then, sucking fiercely against the stem, let it slip almost from her lips before she plunged down on the mealy thickness again, slurping and munching as she look it inch by inch from view.
The tremor began to seize him and he knew that in seconds she would be feeling the whip of his spray. He was tormented to let it rush between those full lips and torn, too, by the sight of her ecstasy driven hips and buttocks.
"By Jehovah, III have all of you," he bellowed as he jerked himself free of the oral delights and flung his length madly down her body, twisting, turning, then flinging her thighs for apart and driving far into her shocked and ready cunt.
The blast was ready to leap from both of them in a few piercing thrusts that took Goldstein ever deeper into her seething center.
"I'm coming ... now ... ohh, do it to me!" she begged, totally enveloped in the relentless breaker that was crashing round her entire being.
It was the longest house call in young Dr. Goldstein's professional career. Never had he had so confusing a case. A sex-starved, bewitching young mother without a husband ... a child whose very birth seemed to have begun in the midst of his adolescence ... and worst of all, his own inflamed lust that soared at the very sight of Gloria.
Both of them agreed that for the early months of this child's development, Goldstein should drop by at least once a week to keep tabs on hi in. They also agreed together that it would be unwise in view of Rodney's responses to attempt lo circumcise the child.
And so the months and then the years swept by.
Ft seemed incredible when the day came, that Rodney would enter kindergarten in the fall ... just a few shorts weeks away. lie had made up most of the stature lost lo a preemie in those five years. As though his body had an insatiable desire to overtake the disproportionate growth at his groin, the boy became a strong and healthy pre-schooler, ready to all outward appearances to fit into academic ranks with the rest of his classmates.
Gloria knew there was that certain difference that somehow was going to have to be handled if the boy was to avoid catastrophic problems. The five years had done nothing to tame the eagerness or the elongation of his sexual machinery.
She had watched his quick stimulation through the years and hoped that somehow the boy would mellow and simmer down before class time came. It just wasn't meant to be.
When he had come to age to sit upright in the tub she had moved him from the bathinette by his crib into the "pool", as that telephone man once had called it. Together they frolicked every night, splashing, giggling, soaping each other's backs. The warm water inevitably stirred his sexuality and from the first, Gloria had felt a mingling of shock and desire at the sight of the brilliant red crown, at times almost as big as the boy's fist, popping from the surface of the water.
His curiosity had been intense when he first noticed the principal differences in his mother's body and his own. He loved to toy with the taut nipples, which like his manhood, always burgeoned in response to the water. Gloria loved it, too, almost too much, as the boy manipulated the tactile cones between tiny thumb and forefinger.
It was an early trauma when the other difference about Gloria's body caught Rodney's eye and made the girl ask herself questions about what she really felt toward the boy.
"Why don't you have a pee-pee, mommy?" he demanded one night at the age of three.
"But I do," she answered. "It just looks different than yours."
"I don't see anything," he insisted, wrestling his pink little body toward hers in the tub.
"I have a tiny crack," she told him.
"Let me see ... let me see," he pleaded, plunging his head beneath the surface of the bath water, then spluttering to the top to catch his breath.
"Can I feel it?" he begged.
Gloria could see no harm in a request like that and she guided his tiny fingers toward the crevice.
"Oohh, Mommy! You're all warmy down there," he said, delighted with the way the yielding flesh seemed lo part to invite his exploring hands.
Then the lightning struck! Manless for weeks. It was during Dr. Goldstein's vacation period. Gloria's action center was a tunnel of sensitized nerves. As though by instinct, the boy's forefinger drove straight to the clitoral muscle turgid and ready to explode at the least provocation.
Like a vise her thighs clamped on the boy's wrist and held the probing fingers inside the vagina while the crazed paralysis of orgasm crashed in on her. She had to grip the sides of the tub to keep from falling forward under the storm of her spunking flow.
"Mommy! Mommy! Are you all right?" Rodney cried as he stared at her stricken face.
"Yes ... Mommy's all right. I ... I just had a funny feeling for a minute." She took several deep breaths. "I'm fine now, Rodney."
"It felt all funny down there where you haven't got anything. It was like it is when you turn on the hot water, Mommy."
The feeling had been so instantly delicious that Gloria wondered if maybe bath time hadn't better stop.
"Measure me, Mommy," demanded the boy, reaching for the ruler that hung at the side of the tub. It had become a weekly ritual to see if there was any noticeable growth in the length of Rodney's aroused manhood. Already the boy had a penis as long as that of Goldstein or any that Gloria could remember ... except for that unforgettable Rodriguez so long ago in Central Park.
She laid the wooden ruler alongside his erection and pressed it firmly against the base of the stem.
"No bigger than last week," she assured him as she tousled the tumbled shock of hair.
"Now make it go down for me, Mommy," he asked as he took the ruler from her hand and guided her fingers to clasp the rigid tool.
It was a delightful, harmless little thing to do for the boy, Gloria had reasoned with herself, ever since his babyhood.
"Up and down ... goody, good!" squealed Rodney as he felt the sweet emotion move through his stiffness and creep out through the rest of his body. As he felt the moment approaching, he slipped down on his elbows to watch the volcano explode in the air.
"Faster, Mommy ... do it faster!" he begged as the crashing music began to tumble around him. Then his ejaculation soared at the ceiling ... ever a growing marvel and a sense of waste to Gloria.
"Higher than the soap tonight, Mommy," the youngster boasted excitedly as he stood on tiptoe with his mother's hands supporting his buttocks and marked the tile with the crayon.
"A new world's record, I'm sure, young man," said Gloria dolefully. "Now! Out you go. Dry yourself real good and then off to bed."
The social worker arrived at Gloria's plush pad, two weeks before the registration for kindergarten.
It always seemed a very humiliating thing to Gloria that she had to be looked in on by a social worker at all. After the first visit when the girl, not much older than Gloria herself, explained that it was required by law in the city of New York that all unwed mothers be periodically visited.
"But why?" demanded Gloria, incensed at the invasion of her privacy. "I'm not ever going to ask any favors of the city and I'm certainly not going to ever be on welfare."
"I'm sorry, Miss Hard, but it's the law," Miss Hanson had explained, The latest visit was the pre-school check-up to be sure the home atmosphere was conducive to the child's success in the classroom.
Miss Hanson was impressed with the neat little boy in the shorts, the white short-sleeved shirt and tie. She was also impressed with the manners of the lad as he sat primly to one side, speaking only when she asked him a question and otherwise just staring coolly at the visitor.
Rodney's interest in Miss Hanson was not as detached as the visitor thought and Gloria was the first to notice it. She caught the line of his eye and saw that it rested right at the division of Miss Hanson's hem line and nylons! Another glance and she caught him staring directly at the generous outcroppings of the visitor's breasts as they pressed through the starched white blouse.
Surely not! she thought in panic. Not yet ... at his age!
But then she saw it begin to swell in those snug little shorts.
Oh, please, God ... no! Not here! Not in front of Miss Hanson! Her thoughts were a terrified jumble as she saw the lengthening begin to creep down the very short shorts. In last minute desperation, she rose swiftly to put herself between the visitor and Rodney just as the straining red crown crept into broad daylight at the edge of his shorts!
"Come, Rodney! You will excuse us, Miss Hanson. I'll be right back."
Miss Hanson had followed their retreat to Rodney's bedroom and puzzled about the limp the little boy had as his mother hurried him along for his rest.
Miss Angela Goodwell sat that same day in the office of Archer Nelson, principal of P.S. Elementary 221. He was seated at his desk and frowning over her application.
"You're quite right, Miss Goodwell, we do need a kindergarten teacher, but your records show that you haven't taught for over five years."
"I know," she answered. "I made a five-year mistake' and now I'm trying to make a fresh start."
He glanced at her marital status. "Divorced", the form said. Then he glanced at her form, clearly spelled out in the figure-fitting wool knit that clung so delightfully to all her torrid curves.
"Oh! I'm sorry," he said, wondering what fool would leave a bundle of woman like Angela Goodwell.
"I'm not!" Angela replied vehemently. Archer Nelson noticed the wool knit creep up across her smooth thigh to reveal a sleek feline grace of muscle as she answered animatedly to his sympathy. He saw, too, the involuntary twitch of her hips and the fevered pressing of her outspoken breasts against the cloth. It told him the candidate for a job was sex-starved and hungry.
"He was a ski bum!" Angela exploded the word "bum."
"I was great to have around when I was on two feet, but I missed a stem christie in Snoqualmie Pass last season and overnight I was a has-been.'-
"I'm afraid I don't understand," said Archer Nelson.
"Neither did I," she said. "My ski flipped off; I landed on top of the point and broke three ribs and punctured a long.
"It must have hurt terribly," Nelson sympathised, shivering at the thought of the ski lip driving into that lovely young body.
She nodded agreement. "What hurt the most was while I was flat-out, so was the bum with other playmates." She wiped a corner of her eye. "He never came to sec me once after I landed in that Seattle hospital, just took off with his friends for Conway and the New Hampshire season."
She licked her lips nervously. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to talk so much about myself. I do hope you'll give me a chance."
Nelson had every intention of doing just that, but he wanted to extend the interview as long as he could. Angela was the classiest female to walk through his door in a long time.
"Are you sure you're all right now-physically, I mean?"
She bounded from the chair. "Like nothing ever happened!" She described a sweeping arch with her arms to show him she had full mobility. "No problems at all ... just a little old scar tissue on my ribs. Here! Come feel!"
Nelson couldn't help himself as the girl swung her arms high over her head, breasts thrusting eagerly as she stretched. He rounded the desk and faced the vivacious brunette.
"Which side?"
"The left-up high," she answered.
Cautiously, he worked his fingers up from the first to the second to the third rib. She was superbly fleshed across her rib cage.
"Oh ... up higher than that ... first scar's on number five." She dropped her left hand and seized his to guide it. He felt one scar, then another ... then his trembling fingers pressed against the swelling of the underside of the fully-packed boob!
"That was terribly close!" Nelson exclaimed, hurriedly dropping his hand and retreating to his seat. A quick lengthening had sprung along his trouser leg and he needed cover.
Two weeks later, Rodney Hard appeared at P.S. 221 for the start of his first year of school.
From the near miss at the time of the visit of the social worker, Gloria had come to a decision. Maybe most little boys wore short pants, but her son was going to be a special case. She outfitted him in trousers, beneath which she had him wear a snug athletic supporter to keep his eager manhodd in check. To guard against any untoward incident in the bathroom, she taught him about the little cubicles for "sit-down go-go" and instructed him always to use that instead of the urinals along the sidewalls. Somehow, Gloria was determined that Rodney's premature manhood was going to be a closely guarded secret.
Within a month of the start of his schooling, Rodney had established himself as a first-class hellion with his teacher, Angela Good well. He seemed a totally misplaced child, years ahead of his fellow kindergartners.
When she came to realize that her whole effort to return to the classroom and establish herself again as a competent teacher rested on one little boy, Angela tried to decide what made him so different.
Rodney not only dressed differently, with those long pants instead of the conventional shorts, he looked ever so much older. His face and his eyes had the look of a much more mature young man. She suspected that he was something of a genius. While the others struggled with the basic alphabet and learning to write their names, she would often find Rodney, as she passed down the aisles, reading from a seventh grade science book. The others had not even tangled with Dr. Suess.
Finally, Rodney became so bored with the inanity of the other kindergartners' learning slowness that he began lo harass them with spit-balls and a variety of other little missiles that he would launch when Angela was facing the blackboard.
She finally caught him late one school day just as he let fly with an elastic band at a rather effeminate little boy in the front row.
"Rodney! You will remain after class is dismissed," she stated, trembling to keep her voice in control.
When the others had left, she ordered him to the blackboard and directed him to write one hundred limes, "Rodney is bad." Then she bent to her desk to get her work ready for the next day.
Some moments later, she noticed that the scratching of the chalk on the board had stopped and she felt the boys eyes on her. "Go on, Rodney," she ordered, not bothering to look up. The writing resumed.
Again it stopped and again she felt his stare. This time she swung to face him, then stared at the legend that he was been writing.
"Rodney is bad but hard is good."
"Rodney Hard you go to the cloakroom this minute," she commanded, rising and reaching in her desk drawer for the ruler.
"Now," she said when she joined the boy in the shadows of the room, "I am sorry to have to do this, but you must learn to do as you are told. Please take off your trousers."
The boy stood motionless.
"All right, I understand," Angela Goodwell went on. 'I'll look away, but when you have them off, you come to my side." She swung to look toward the wall and moments later she felt the hands on her leg as the boy stood beside her at the bench.
Still averting her eyes, Angela reached round to clasp the small of his back. "Get across my knees, Rodney. I hope you know this hurts me more than it does you."
She gave him a little push forward as he hefted his weight to take the position for his punishment ... and just (hen Angela felt a pressure against her calf that she knew simply couldn't be there. It was the warm, hard length of penis that just wouldn't be found on a boy.
Too certain of what that fleshy gristle was, Angela had no choice but to raise the ruler and see the discipline through.
"Whack!" The ruler landed with a resounding crack across the tender skin of the boy's buttocks. She felt the incredible muscle against her leg leap in protest.
What manner of child is this? Angela wondered as she raised the ruler again.
"Owww!" wailed the boy as the stick fell.
Again and then again she flailed at the exposed flank, noticing that his cries of pain were now mixed with a note of half-pleasure. It inflamed Angela with a mixture of emotions to feel that unbelievably long tool leaping against her with each blow, then hearing the boy's response. As the next blow fell, she felt the tremor running through his frame.
"Oohhhh ... oh, yes!" the cry bust from his lips. Like a rifle blast, the spurting liquid shot from the straining tube and Angela felt the bath filter down her nylons and into her heels.
She was too dumbfounded to know what a competent disciplinarian should do next.
All she could say was, "Rodney, that's all. Get into your clothes and go home. Please try to come to school a better boy tomorrow." She said the words robot-like as she continued to stare at the wall. The delicious sensation of the first man she had felt in months and months had her head spinning.
The next day Rodney was chastened but hardly different than the day before. In desperation, Angela called the Hard residence and talked with Gloria about the boy's brilliance and about his misbehavior in the classroom. She said nothing about the phenomenon she had felt between his legs in the cloakroom.
"I'd like to give him some special attention, Mrs. Hard," Angela said.
"Anything! Anything at all," Gloria answered, chagrined that Rodney was already becoming a problem. "I'm afraid that I'm responsible for his reading and writing being ahead of the class. You see, we're all alone and I guess it was kind of playtime for us to start reading the things he shouldn't have before he began school."
'Well, I think well get on just fine if I can win his cooperation," declared Angela. "May I take him home with me after school occasionally and sort of put him in charge of a project or two?"
Gloria was delighted by Angela s interest and gave her quick consent. Next afternoon, Rodney went home with his teacher "to do a few things" that she needed a "young man's help with before the next day."
Rodney was delighted himself. The truth was that his fascination with the female had also sprung alive years before such creatures should have made any difference. He had, from the first day, been entranced with the lines of the Goodwell body, and now he was invited right into her home.
Angela asked Rodney if he would mind helping her put her apartment in order first. He hurried about with the vacuum and then began lo empty the ash trays. While he went at the cleaning, Angela said she would just be a moment for a shower and a change into other clothes.
She heard the crash in the living room just as she finished toweling herself. Hastily she knotted the towel at the back of her shoulders and rushed to see the damage. The boy had broken one of her good vases and stood at the threshold of the kitchen looking almost pleased with himself. ft was the look that infuriated Angela.
"Rodney!" she exclaimed. "I don't think that's funny at all." She reached for the yardstick that leaned against: the door frame. "You must learn to respect other people's property. Now drop your trousers." .She turned her back and waited.
A second later she felt the fingers at the backs of her thighs ... then! Wonder of wonders! That fully grown, ruggedly erect cock was poking between her legs. She tried to ignore it hut her glare fell and she stared incredulous at the massiveness of the mushroom head.
"Come with me!" she ordered, striding toward the davenport, stick in hand.
"No!" he screamed. And he gave the towel a frightened jerk. As the cloth tumbled to her feet, Angela knew she was exposed and totally nude to the boy's eyes. Strangely, she liked the feeling!
"I'm not going to spank you, Rodney," she declared, throwing the stick to the rug. "Come here with me and let's just the two of us talk."
She stretched full length on the couch and felt the eyes of the boy on her frame. Then she turned and looked directly at the instrument she had felt but never dared before to confront.
He was absolutely enormous! Her eyes widened in disbelief at the sight of the phallus larger than that borne by any of the men who had ever presented their hungers before her. Frantic desires ripped and tore at her emotions.
Then he was at her side. Somehow she must win his confidence first.
"Have you ever ridden a real bucking bronco?" she asked.
He shook his head.
She reached and hoisted him to a straddling position across her tummy, fighting the impulse to dive and force the red beauty that blossomed from Ids stem between her lips.
"Up we go," she laughed.
Together they bounced merrily on the davenport and Angela was hypnotized by the wonderful bounce of his rod in response to her heaving.
Oddly, the boy began to cry!
"Whatever is the matter?" she demanded.
"My thing is the matter. He's so much in the way! I wish I could be like you and Mommie."
"Rodney Hard, what a thing to say." Angela thought for a moment. Then she looked at the boy with lips pursed and eyes filled mystery."
"Can we have a deep dark secret just between us that no one will ever know ... not even Mommie?" Angela asked.
He nodded, choking back the tears.
Then she went on. "You go over to the end of the couch and you'll find a Halloween mask. The kind I'm making for the class. First take off all your clothes, then put on the mask and come back to me. Know what I'm going to do?"
Rodney looked totally mystified.
"I'm going to make your hard thing go completely away, just like the good witch of Halloween."
"Oh, boy!" Rodney rushed to obey her instructions and seconds later, naked and masked in the funny face of a clown, he was back at her side.
"Up you go!" giggled Angela, trying to control the wild yearnings racing savagely through her body. She knew there could be consequences, but she knew she just had to rape the boy!
"No peeking now," she ordered, as she opened her thighs and placed the boy on top of her legs. Then she carefully took the red topped length and pressed it directly against her moistened cunt.
"What's happening?" begged Rodney as he felt the pressure at the soft entry way.
"You'll see," said Angela. Then she pressed her hands behind his little tail and forced him toward her. The taut cap burst inside her love tunnel and of a sudden, Angela was a wild woman. Never had she felt such an overpowering desperation! An immediate orgasm washed with tidal wave intensity through her and like a being possessed, Angela drove back at the invading and unyielding muscle with all her force.
"Oh, goody-good!" screamed Rodney and she felt his ejaculation soar up her turbulent tunnel. Now he needed no pressure from the rear and instinctively drove and drove at the strange clutching center till he could go no further.
She felt his rail crammed tight to the sides of her vagina and pressed back to the fire wall of her passion.
"You can take off your mask now, Rodney," she gasped.
The funny-face fell to the floor, i am! I am all gone!" he squealed with delight. "See now," she answered. "Didn't I tell you I was a very good witch?"
"You're not a witch ... you're my bronco!" Rodney yelled and began to toss and pitch on her eager body.
Angela couldn't get enough of her cowboy. Back and forth they wrestled with the incredible plank rigidly impaled in her body through two, then three orgasms.
Finally she felt the stud length begin to slacken and shrink inside her happy harbor. When it was reduced to the point where it was a limp, inactive fleshiness, Angela pulled him free.
As he left to go home, she swore him to secrecy about her trick with his 'go-go', as he still called it. Then as an afterthought, she suggested that he forget the nickname he had given his mare during one of their bucking sessions. Somehow, 'Angie' was a bit too close to home phonetically!
That night Gloria was puzzled by the boy's condition in the bathtub. She wondered why his penis, failed to leap through the water at first contact with the warmth, to stand in its usual quivering erectness above the surface. She had always enjoyed the privilege of soaping him in his private parts and she couldn't understand this night why he begged to do it himself.
He hurried to finish the bath and she stared at his flaccid tool as he jumped from the tub.
"Something must have gone wrong and he's just preoccupied," she thought and reached for the towel.
It was when she ran the towel across his chest and brushed lightly at his nipples that the familiar form soared from his groin. The boy was instantly dissolved in tears!
Distressed, Gloria followed him to his bedroom, then cuddled, nude beneath the sheets, pulling his trembling body to her own to comfort him.
"I want him to go away," groaned the stricken boy.
"But, Rodney, he can't go away. Now, now, don't worry. It'll be all right."
"He can too go away," Rodney shouted at his astonished mother. "I can prove it, too." Without waiting for permission, he pushed her over on her back and slid across her thighs.
Gloria stared astonished as he took the massive cock and thrust it down in the space between her legs. Her thighs instinctively locked around the hot manhood and held him immobilized.
"See, I'm all gone," he declared proudly. Gloria fought the hunger to frig the pulsating muscle by rotating the inner sides of her thighs. But she had to find out more and an impossible suspicion was beginning to seep into her thoughts.
"Rodney," she asked. "Did it feel just like it feels now ... or was it more like this?" Quickly she reached down and seized the prick and pressed it flush against her dainty quim. Then, opening wide her legs and hardly daring to breathe, Gloria forced the iron-like meat into her quim! For a wild moment she wanted to grasp the boy's buttocks and thrust him all the way home. But she fought the impulse and waited for his answer.
"Oh, yes! That's it, Mommy! That's just how it felt when he went away!"
A shocked Gloria forced herself to eject the tumescent spike. Her pre-school worries had not been a figment!
I wonder what little girl the boy was screwing? Gloria asked herself. It was a somehow hysterical thought and she crept quietly from his bed to get away from the temptation that lay so near at hand.
The ensuing days at Public School 221 were agonizing days for Angela Goodwell. She just couldn't get the memory of that high-riding cowboy out of her mind. The madness of that one session in her apartment hounded her. At night, home from school, she would strip and lie on the davenport, recreating the scenes in her mind's eye and toying with her desire-ridden cunt lips, force herself to an unsatisfactory orgasm.
Finally, she could stand it no more. She knew it was an invitation to certain disaster to invite the boy back to her apartment and she couldn't bear thf. wistful, appealing look of his face during the class hours.
She went to see Archer Nelson after a week of the torture and as she slipped into the man's office, she was unaware of the little figure that had followed her down the school hall and ducked into the shadow of the stairwell. Rodney Hard was hurt and bewildered by Angela's aloofness. He was a model student after that day in her apartment and just couldn't figure why, when she had seemed to enjoy his presence so much, she shouldn't want him back. But she always had some excuse. He wondered now, why she should want to see the principal.
"But, Miss Goodwell, you're doing just splendidly with the five-year-olds," Archer Nelson protested when she asked to be transferred to an older class.
"Please, Mr. Nelson, I just have to get a group that's ten or eleven. I love these little children, but I guess that's my trouble," she said.
"How's that?" asked Nelson, trouble himself as he sat with her on the davenport in his best counseling informality. The problem was, with other teachers, he could feel quite at ease in such an intimate, fatherly attitude. With Angela Goodwell, he felt all man and all his manhood was now feeling that way.
"Well," she went on, "My trouble is, the children keep making me think of the baby I wish I had and would have if I hadn't married that bum. It's just too much of a memory," she sighed and leaned back in despair, Archer Nelson watched the girl's gorgeous mounds start to shake as her shoulders convulsed and she tried to hold back the tears.
Tenderly, to reassure her that he understood, he took her hand and drew it to his lap. She followed the path of the hand and then saw what she was certain would be just above the place on his thigh where he brought her fingers to rest. The man's pant s leg was obviously agitated by a heavy pressure.
He wants me! she exulted inwardly. Put him in debt!
Angela acted on the impulse. She rose slowly from the settee and walked deliberately toward the windows. Drapes drawn, she strode toward the light switch by the door, at the same time slipping the zipper down the length of her snug silk sheathe. When she turned to face him, she shrugged ever so lightly and the silk tumbled in a shimmering pile at her feet. Archer Nelson was gaping lecherously at a sizzling, stupendously stacked nude Angela!
Never taking her eyes from his face, she stepped with regal pride straight to where he was sitting and there she crumped to her knees before him and became his slave, yearning to serve his every lust.
Without a word, he let her open his fly and extract the pounding hard-on. She bent to lick thirstily at the swollen cap, then popped the whole of die head directly between her lips. Juicily, she savored the venison warmth of the red meat. Knowing that he was watching with paralyzed delight, she opened her eyes ir. wide astonishment at the size of the man as she forced more and more of his penis into her mouth. As though it was almost too delicious to bear, she extracted his tool and proceeded to lick along the underside of the stem, then nuzzled hungrily into the bush at its bush.
"Do it!" The cry burst from her lips and she again filled her ruby lips with the man's erection. She could tell it was just a matter of seconds now before his sperm cells would pump out. Like a woman beside herself, she went wildly at the man's sex. Munching, chewing, sucking, and emitting groaning sounds of delight, she felt him start to come.
"Oh ... yes! Suck it ... do it!" he pleaded.
Then the ejaculation was flooding into her mouth as she dragged him, totally engulfed with the emotion, to the floor.
Quickly she undressed him as he lay beneath her. His rod stood bold and ready for a fresh encounter and again she called the turn. She swung astride his thighs, hefted across his form until she was poised directly over the taut muscle. Then she slowly impaled herself on the red blossom and torturously lowered her arm and wonderful body down the spear.
"I'm Lady Godiva on my bucking bronco!" she cried as she began to gallop happily on the man's spike. Up and down she rode furiously building the sex-madness of both of them. Now, Nelson came to life and drove mercilessly at his Lady Godiva, heaving frantically at the body above him. The two of them were wrapped in the tight web of whirlpool emotions, blinking closer and closer to the inevitable.
It was just at that moment that the door to the principal's office slipped open. Rodney Hard stared at the sight, unable to believe his eyes. His 'Angie' was no longer a mare, she was riding another horse! He flew out of his jacket and pulling madly at the little supporter inside his trousers, he raced toward the outrageous scene, his erection reaming boldly before him. For a frustrated moment, he hesitated behind the two, neither one of them sensing his presence in their own anesthetized condition. Then he spied the pretty cleft at Angela's tail ... he dove to join the fray.
"Ohhhhh! " screamed Angela as she felt the sudden attack from a new quarter.
The man beneath her was groaning in fierce ecstasy and his thrusts rammed her buttocks back against the unrelenting( length that had pierced a new opening, never known for such purposes before to Angela.
The pain was excruciating and at the same time exhilarating. She was certain she was dreaming, that some maddened nerve had been touched by the prick that claimed her cunt.
"What are you doing to me?" she squealed in pain and pleasure ut the frantically pumping Archer.
"Making you come crazy-wild, woman!" he panted.
"Do it ... oh, do it ... It's ... It's killing me ... Oh, please don't ... oh ... do ... Do! I'm ... I'm dying!" she gasped as the invaders at both sides began a devilish discharge of lava-like juices.
For an instant, as though clawing for the summit of Everest, Angela arched straight up as her own climatic spunking raced in response. Then the room swam and her vision blurred and faded and she collapsed in a dead faint over the body of the principal.
It was then that he first saw the boy, standing behind the fallen form and frigging at the remnants of his orgasm.
"Wha ... what! ... Where did you ever get that?" he panted, trying to shift from under the weight of the sweet burden of Miss Goodwell.
"I am Rodney. Why was my horsie riding you?"
Nelson could think of no intelligent answer.
"Is that really yours?" he demanded, staring in fascination at the monumental length of the boy's now collapsing rod.
Rodney never answered. Crying bitterly, he forced the white muscle back into his pants and tore for the door and for home.
For a second or two Archer Nelson remained beneath the still inert body of lush femininity that he had moments before thought was the gateway to paradise. Now, he suspected that that aparition he saw who called himself "Rodney" was in fact, her guardian angel.
By the time Angela struggled back to consciousness, the man was gone. As he dressed, Nelsons mind worked overtime on the sight he had seen and on that one remark, "Why was my horsie riding you?" It wasn't too hard, once reason began to return, for the principal to add up the facts.
Somewhat bewildered, Angela groped for her dress and heels. Attached to the silk, she found a little sheet of notepaper.
"Dear Miss Goodwell," the note read in very formal styling. "Please report to seventh grade class now taught by Miss Adams tomorrow. I will arrange for the exchange. Sincerely, A.N." only trying to sort out the madcap melange of events of the last hour, Angela dressed and left the school.
At home Rodney was a boy beside himself. There was nothing Gloria could do to get him to eat his supper. He adamantly refused lo go near the bathtub, and finally, thoroughly frustrated, she ordered him to go to bed.
An hour later, his sobbing was still audible and unabated and his mother had to make one more attempt.
She knelt at his bedside and stroked the hot little forehead.
"Won't you tell Mommy, what's wrong?" she pleaded.
For a few minutes the only answer she heard was his gagging attempt to swallow the sobs. Then his arm slipped from under the sheet and around the soft shoulder.
"Could I sleep with you tonight, Mommy?" he begged.
"Of course, you can," answered Gloria, determined somehow to get to the root of what she had a strong suspicion had happened.
The two cuddled naked in Gloria's queen-size bed and gradually the tears abated and she felt the warmth of Rodney's body press closely to her own. Then, the lengthening began. It tickled against her thigh as it crept away from his body and all at once it sprang stiff and monumental against her belly.
"I want it to go away forever!" the boy wept, his body once again beginning to shudder with ragged jerks.
"Why ever do you want it to go away forever?" she asked.
"Because people think it's funny," he mourned.
Try as she would, that was all he would tell her, so Gloria chose another tact.
"Don't you dare listen to anyone who makes fun of your penis," she declared hotly. He was beyond the little boy terms now and she knew as she felt the deluge of desire that he and she were both beyond the childrens' games of the past.
"Rodney Hard, you are probably going to have more fun with him than any other man before you," she asserted. "You just always remember that he's a beautiful work of creation."
"Please, Mommy," he begged, not understanding. "Can I put him away ... way inside of you?"
The directness of his request floored Gloria. Her own diet of fun and games in bed had been so sporadic that the very thought made her light-headed with hunger.
"Why not?" she asked herself. "Hell go right on getting in trouble outside, and I'm in trouble inside myself. Who's to be hurt with protection?"
Involuntarily she felt her legs spreading to invite the ballooning, thickened length. He had hardly entered her vagina when the surge was upon her.
"Ohhhhh! ... Rod ... Rod! ... Hard! .. Take me Hard ... Do it!" he screamed joyfully as his spray matched her own spunk-ridden climax.
Through the night they played with each other. The cowboy routine was Rodney's favorite because it put him on top of her writliing muscles. Again and again he ejaculated into her play pen. Finally, with just a few hours remaining till dawn, the two fell asleep in each others arms.
At the apartment door the next morning, Gloria waved good-bye to her son as he danced down the steps for school. The old maid on the first floor who knew something of the background of the boy without a father listened as Rodney called back to his mother.
"Bye, bye, Mommy. Can we play cowboy again tonight?" he yelled.
Gloria nodded as she waved.
"Hummpph," grumbled the maiden lady. "Maybe that girl's going to turn into a passable mother after all, and give more time to her boy."
That was exactly what Gloria had in mind to do from now on. The glories of that insatiable boy's phallus, thrusting its way far back into the very midst of her body had left Gloria atingle and trembling with desire for his return from school.
Rodney mentioned casually that Miss Goodwell had been moved to a new grade and that he had a new teacher when he came home that afternoon. It didn't seem to trouble him in the least and Gloria was relieved. Once, during the romp of the evening before, he had yelled that word, "Angle!" as he drove his meat far into Gloria and all of a sudden, the possible association of Angic and Angela began to add up.
"Leave well enough alone!" Gloria told herself when she sensed the boy's nonchalance about the departure of Miss Good well.
The years fled swiftly by after those first traumatic months of accommodation to her lust for her son. Gloria told herself that she was still just a young girl, even with her boy about to enter High School. And she truly was only a girl in body, lush and ripe and wildly voluptuous, but now she was twenty-nine and she was beginning to despair of ever finding the young Spanish boy named "Rodriquez" for whom she had named her son. He was, she knew, the boy's true father and she also knew that she could never love another man except that strange, violent, handsome Puerto Rican who had saved her life.
While Rodney was in school through the first eight year, Gloria had prowled the West Side, remembering that that was the direction he had run to after the fight that night in Central Park. Always, the search was frustrated and abortive, even though on several occasions she had been within a few feet of Rodriquez and never known it.
She resigned herself to failure-and to the full enjoyment of her son's body, plus intermittent encounters with those she found specially attractive. None could surpass that boy of hers who had overnight, it seemed, become a man.
The two of them had an uncontrollable craving for each other and that, coupled with their mutual quest for the body perfect, gave them hours upon hours of daily togetherness. Calisthenics, gymnastics on the portable equipment that Gloria installed in Rod's bedroom, isometrics, all combined to produce two perfectly proportioned examples of the beautifully toned body.
After an hour of their exercise period, each clad in the least clothing possible, which meant little more than a tiny cloth at Gloria's crotch and two squares that passed for a halter at her breasts, while Rod wore a loin cloth, they were ready for bath time.
The miniature pool was the signal for the start of hours of love play. To continue their physical education program and bridge to the sensual hours, was the purpose of the bath they shared together. They made a game of the phase of the evening that they thought of as building their lung power. Gloria would mischievously tuck a cherry or an apricot deep within the seat of her sexual hungers. Then, submerging simultaneously, Rodney would thrust between Gloria's thighs and drive straight to the target of her delicious cunt. She, in turn, would grapple his mountainous erection and force it between her full lips. The bit of fruit that his probing tongue, had first to extract from her love nest was to give him something of a handicap. She was always so ready to come the moment he tongued at the inflamed muscles that something had to delay an easy win for Rod. While he was driving for the fruit, Gloria was sucking vigorously on his truncheon length. Winner was declared the person who could convulse the other in a spunking orgasm the first. If either surfaced during the suck session, it meant an immediate disqualification and the loser had to simply yield to maniacal sucking of the other till the cresting finish came.
Never did Gloria let her occasional male visitors know of her sot), least of all of his relationship to her. It was a secret she wanted to keep to herself knowing the instant judgment that would be passed if their frolicking was made known.
Finally, Rodney entered the years of high school. Gloria could hardly believe that fifteen years had fled by. The boy's creative brilliance had skipped him past three grades in the elementary years and now he was on the edge of adulthood. By the physical facts and the additional facts, he had long since arrived.
CHAPTER SIX
The idea for the "Titanic" was borne Out late night as Gloria lay breathless in the arms of Larry Marston. The two had feasted on each other's body through repeated sessions of hunger abandoning itself to even wilder hunger till at last spent and satiated, they curled together to rest.
"Oh, Larry," murmured Gloria, still feeling the little leaps of joy that convulsed her lower muscles in post-orgasmic salute to her invader. "I felt that last time you took me as though I were a ship slowly going down into the waters of the sea. I ... I just felt as though every bit of mc was going under and I didn't care as long as I took you with me!"
Larry pried free of the encircling arm's and pushed himself up onto his elbows to stare down at the maddening form beside him.
"You what?" he demanded.
Gloria nestled her head across his stomach and reached to fondle the dangling stem. Impishly, she flicked it in a lazy loop, then let it drop across his thigh.
"I told you. I felt just like I was a sinking ship being sucked into the belly of the ocean. I know it sounds crazy...."
"It doesn't sound the damned least bit crazy," he snapped. "Tell me, do you believe in ESP?"
"Yes, of course I do," she answered.
"Would you believe it if I told you that a sinking ship has been bugging me for the past two months?"
She swung to her side and looked at the man. "Are you kidding me?"
"I'm probably the one guy who wouldn't kid you," he replied. "Tell me, how long have you known me?" She thought for a moment. "Over ten years," she said.
"And what have I always told you to do with ideas that guys give to you to help you spend your money?"
"Thank them very much and then file them in the circular file," she laughed.
It had been good advice. Larry had taken her inheritance and used it well on the market. Now it stood at double the original one-and-a-half million. She knew he was a good lawyer and trusted his use of her money without question.
The two had had a very happy sexual relationship, too. He was the one man who knew of Rodney, and while he knew nothing of the mother-son sex play, he accepted it as likely. She was too much woman, and the one view Gloria had given him of Rod's stud-like qualities, rising from his body as the boy slept, made Larry fairly sure that they were intimate. It didn't matter to Larry. Both he and Gloria were fiercely independent people and he knew that if what others would condemn in Gloria, even as they had condemned her bearing the son, brought her happiness ... it made him happy.
Neither Larry nor Gloria had ever considered marriage. It just couldn't be, Larry was sure, after that night when she had told him of the grip that once-seen, but never-forgotten Rodriguez had on her heart.
Now Larry reached for his cigarettes, lit one, and drew a long, thoughtful drag before he spoke.
"A sinking ship!" he muttered. "Why the hell won't the idea get lost?"
"What's the idea ... tell me and maybe I'll help you file it in the circular file."
"Well, okay. Here goes." He took a deep breath. "Have you ever thought that for the largest and supposedly the swinginest city in the world that our town has just absolutely nothing to offer the really sexual person?"
She nodded.
"Look at the crud they offer to the public as sexy movies and avant garde clubs. Phony! True blue phony! They've got more in a half-block in L.A. or Frisco than the whole city of New York."
He went on. "The fathers won't even let a topless waitress in town. Oh ... maybe here or there, for a little while, like down in the Village ... but sooner or later they bust the joint."
Gloria knew Larry was right. She remembered back even to the day after that wild hour in the park when the papers reported both the death of the leader of the Black Knights and the raid of the topless Go-Go dance club on Broadway on the same page. She could still see the two photos in the NEWS. One of the trench-coated blonde from the Go-Go standing before the precinct desk, the other of the shrouded figure on the stretcher as the morgue attendant carted the Turk from the park.
"Here's the idea," Larry broke into her reverie. "Why don't we both pool our capital ,and put the blocks to the prudes with a really swinging club that can't be touched by their blue noses?"
"How can we do that, Larry?"
"That's where my sinking ship comes in," he answered. "If we can buy out some rights from the clam diggers out by Throgs Neck and locate near some of the main arteries of traffic, I believe we can operate a club right in the waters of Long Island Sound, completely immune from city laws."
Gloria had swung to rest on her heels and stare at the man's enthusiastic face as he developed the idea. She liked it instantly. The idea of a public nightclub that would run its own bill of entertainment fare and inflame the outrage of the set who reserved for themselves the right to squash everyone into a prudish line, was intensely appealing. The moralists and the self-righteous could beat their gums and sound the alarm, but in the end, not be able to touch them!
They went to work on the idea at once and toward morning Gloria suddenly burst out with the name. "I've got it! Let's Call the club 'The Titanic" and let's really make the action titanic!"
"That'll be your department, baby," said Larry. "I'll handle the legal end and the contracts and building. You handle the happenings."
Ten months later travelers crossing the Throgs Neck Bridge were intrigued by the newly-completed sight in the Sound. A great prow of a ship rose majestically into the air, the little warning blinker at the bow a full one hundred feet from the water line. It was a perfect replica of a sinking ship, one stack still visible above the water, lighted portholes and desk lights, and then, at the widest point of the hull, the ship appeared to be plunging into the depths of the Sound. The Titanic was christened.
Within a month two things were evident to the owners of the wildest club in the land. One was that they offered the most sought-after evening in America and the other was that Club Titanic would cater to the very rich and the very young in heart.
A casual visitor to the dining room of the Titanic would never suspect what went on below decks. The guest arrived at the marina, especially built to service the customers, and he was ferried out to the docking platform, two hundred yards offshore. Then he entered the main foyer of the ship and the dazzling opulence and beauty of the interior decor made it clear that he had found his way to a very posh dining club. He was led up a few steps to the main dining room and there, thanks to the aggressive pirating, by Larry, of some of the finest chefs in America, the dinner guest was party to some of the most unforgettable moments of dining pleasure he would ever know.
The dining room of the Titanic was a front for the real action below. All the service personnel were men, and black tie formal was 'the order. A string quartet gave the dinner time atmosphere a 19th-century flavor. When the meal was over, guests could catch the next sleek cruiser for a spin along the Connectictu coast or they could get aboard the launch that would return them to the marina and be on their way home. It made a diverting, fun evening for tired roues and frustrated elderly folk who wanted to boast that they'd had a full night aboard the fabled "Titanic."
For the younger set, the evening had only just begun as they finished dining. Below desks lay the Orbit Room and their real purpose in coming to Titanic. A sign to the head waiter and a moment's whispered consultation, and the couples, or the singles daring to come to grips with unrestrained sexuality were invited to the Mezzanine Lounge.
In fact, the Mezzanine was a level beneath the dining room and served as mezzanine to the level yet below. Here ihc tempo of the evening began to accelerate as the guests were ushered into an atmosphere in sharp contrast to the more formal dining room. Distant eerie strains of haunting, yet unfamiliar tunes, seeped softly from the corner stereo speakers.
Sleekly contoured hostesses slipped to the side of the male arriving in the lounge, while well-built male attendants stepped to the side of the female guests. Before anyone was allowed to enter the paneled areaway that led down to the Orbit Room, a search of their bodies was required. It was a house rule that no firearms or weapons of any kind be on the person of a guest. It was also Larry's way to make sure that no one representing the law got by.
The hostesses took the male guests to little dressing rooms on one side of the lounge while the male attendants escorted the females to the opposite side. The mood of the evening had begun to creep round nearly every guest who ventured as far as the lounge and the moment of inspection. The hostesses' gowns were body-tight with a deep decolletage and a slit at the side that ran from heel to hip. These were the novices in training for a coveted role as waitress in the Orbit Room. It was explicitly forbidden that they touch a male guest with the purpose of seducing him. By the time the guest had peeled to the skin, his sexual desires were rampant and plain, but that was part of the plan. He was to arrive in the Orbit Room unhinged and ready to swing, but no premature swinging was tolerated. The hostess was supposed to exclaim over his size and his manliness, even allowed to seize the man's phallus and admire its hardness ... but once having ascertained that he had no other weapon but the one at his groin, she was to leave him, frustrated and light-headed, and go to the next arriving male.
The male attendants, too, practiced the same form of inspection. The female guest having stripped, was admired and patted, then asked to lie down on the couch that was provided in each of the dressing rooms. Ever so gently, the attendant would tell her that since there had been those who secreted weapons to the Orbit Room in the most devious ways, he had to make a cursory examination of her love triangle. For many of the women the skilled probe of the entry portal lo their vagina was more than they could bear and still contain their fever. Something about the handsome attendant wearing black T-shirt and slacks and inevitably being himself very evidently aroused, sent the guest into a frantic cock-sized convulsion at the merest touch of the man's finger. They loved it and they hated it for the man would always quickly rise, thank them politely and vanish to leave them to dress alone.
When guests stepped into the softly-lit corridor that led down the incline to the Orbit, they were ready for whatever would happen below and prayed that it would be animal-carnal and quick! The sounds that penetrated the corridor as they made the long descent heightened the passions of the guests. At first, one could mistake the sound for low and distant moans. Then as he neared the end of the corridor, he could distinctly hear the sounds of orgasm ecstasy, male and female. The incoherent, bubbling little cries of joy, the near maniacal groans of a male in the grip of the divine emotion, all crept into the fibre and being of the guest and sensitized him for what was to come.
It came just as the visitor rounded the bend that opened out into the wide expanse of the Orbit Room. There he saw a great jagged, gaping hole in the side of the ship that seemed truly to open out into the waters of the Sound just beyond. Greenish-yellow lights filtered in and out of the rocks and the sea grasses. Then the spectator really felt the grip of the world beyond into which he was about to step. Here, there, everywhere around the great underwater pool he could discern swimming bodies. Lithe and sinuous female forms being pursued by sinewy, perfectly proportioned and plainly predatory male youths. All were nude and obviously all were sexually aroused and hungrily searching for some object into which to vent their hungers.
A boy swam wildly after a fleeing girl, his thrusting length cutting a delightful eddy in the water as he chased the object of his attack. Then there were the others, male chasing female and female in pursuit of another luscious female. Great rocks were placed here and there about the bottom of the ocean bed and to these shelters the inflamed swimmers fled with their quarry, once captured.
Enough of the subsequent action could be seen in the hands and feet to tell the witness what transpired behind the rocks. Coupled with the "examination" that had tantalized their desires, this scene that portrayed the orgiastic revels of the sea nymphs left many a guest weak and gasping with desire.
A soft-voiced maitre de, formally clad, stepped to the side of a couple or a guest leaving the inflaming sights of the underwater action.
"May I take you to your seats," he inquired, as though leading the visitors to an orchestra location at a Broadway theatre.
The seats that were spread about in delightful informality on the crimson carpeted floor, were, in fact, great cushions of black velvet, and yellow silk. It had been Gloria's design that made the Orbit Room a total appeal to the senses of eye, ear, and smell.
At the front of the club room was a stage that swept from one side of the hall to the other, across the front of which hung a stage curtain of the finest black velvet.
There was an aura of expectancy that settled quickly over the assembled guests. Friends had told them that the Orbit Room was the furthest out club yet to be found, that once a guest, a person was compelled to return and return time and again.
Sandra Trainor had come for an evening at the Titanic with her steady, Bill Hodges. Even though both were of age, neither would have dared lo mention llie target for their evening s fun to their wealthy and also very stodgy parents.
"We ought to have a fling at this place," Rill had persuaded her. 'They say all the bars are down and maybe we had better find out if we've got any bars still up between ourselves."
"I'm game, wild man," agreed Sandra, "but if what I've heard about Titanic is true, you may not ever want to see me again by the end of the evening!
By the end of the tour through the lounge, with the inflaming inspection of each of them, by the time they had left the scene of the underwater fun and games, the appetites of the two were whetted for whatever was to come.
"Anything goes?" Bill whispered the question to his girl as the lights softened and down the corridors leading in from the sides of the room they could make out the approaching silhouettes of the waiters and waitresses who were the drink servers. What else they served was soon to become apparent.
Sandra touched Bill's leg and let her fingers creep along his thigh till they nestled at his crotch.
"Anything goes," she answered, husky with eroticism of the hall gripping her throat. Then her hand moved across the trembling length that protruded against the cloth of his pants.
"If I had one of those, he'd be standing up just as high this very minute, too," she added. Quietly, she stroked at the heat beneath the trousers.
Then a low murmur spun through the audience as the so-called waiters and waitresses stepped into the light and began slowly and casually to circulate toward their stations.
The girls who had won waitress roles were among the most beautiful of the metropolitan areas. Each had a body that was alive with pleasure-maddening curves and dramatic proportions accented the bust, waist and hips. Dark-haired, blonde, red-headed, platinum, the hair-styling of each framed a perfectly beautiful face. The total impact of each lovely female was voluptuous and torrid.
The costumes that had been designed for the serving people left no doubt as to the intent of the establishment about the purpose of the evening.
Nothing was left to the imagination about the tantalizing bodies. The breasts of each girl were adorned with rectangular squares of gold lame centered directly over the nipples. Low on each pubic mound rode another bit of lame, triangular in shape, held in place by a thin, invisible thread. Their swaying, sensuous walk accented the sauciness of their buttocks and the sultriness of their hips. Every man in the hall felt the quickening in his groin as a waitress drew near his cushion.
"To take, here and now!" that was the surging thought that raced through a hundred fevered minds as they watched.
And there was a way for that, too, but that was to come later. For now, the ostensible purpose of the nearly-nude girls was to bring the customers' drinks and inflame their lusts. They did both extremely well!
The male waiter was, like the female, handpicked by Gloria. Fundamental was the requirement that he be a well-built animal of the jungle, sinewy and superbly proportioned.
As she demanded it of the girls, Gloria required of the men that they each be inordinately highly-sexed. Their three nights on duty were followed by three days and nights off the job and since it served their mercenary interests to be in top condition and at a peak of sexual need when at work, the men as well as the girls lived a convent-like existence away from the Orbit Room.
What that starvation diet did for the desires of the men was immediately evident when they stepped into the light of the hall.
Gloria had personally designed their loin cloth, which was the sole item they wore. It was a strip of silver cloth that ran from the hips down and under the groin. A sponge pad nestled artfully under the testicles so that as the waiters stepped into full view of the audience, their cocks and balls were thrust boldly up and away from their bodies. The design of the inverted loin was for practical and aesthetic reasons. Before the evening was done, it was certain that there would be times when the presently stiffened pricks would flag and slacken. The sponge cushion forced the penis to appear out-thrust and the testicles to appear loaded and ready to expel their juicy cargo.
Sandra's mouth fell open with surprise and delight as she saw the unabashed sexuality of the waiters. Her sex center itched with desire as she felt the moisture bathe her love tunnel.
She reached to nudge her date. "Bill," she whispered, "you'll think me just awful, I know, but aren't those the most beautiful things you ever saw?" She stifled the desire to reach and grab a passing hard-on.
"Do you want one, honey?" he answered. "I really meant our pact, and I'd like to see you doing it with another man."
She looked at him in mock surprise. "I couldn't! Not unless you let me watch you with one of those sexpot waitresses."
They touched fingers. "Deal then," he said, and looked for one of the headwaiters.
A simple hand sign called either a waiter or waitress if a guest wanted to order a drink. If a sex partner was wanted, the headwaiter was summoned by holding aloft either a gold chip or a silver chip. The gold indicated the customer's desire for one of the girls, the silver indicated a call for a male of the waiter crew. On sight of the sign of a customer, one of the tux-clad headwaiters hurried to respond to his wish. It was never assumed that the customer wanted the girl serving his station or the waiter. But what was assumed was that whoever of the serving staff was summoned to a customer's cushion, that waiter or waitress was the exclusive possession of the guest until he had vented his desires.
The cost of the chips was fantastic. A gold chip was five hundred dollars, while the silver chip that summoned a male to serve the customer's hungers was seven hundred and fifty. Chips were never available to the customer until after the appearance of the staff, and then the guests, to whom money was merely a plaything, never blinked at the charges. The enveloping orgy-like atmosphere had done its work.
"Can I serve you, sir?" The headwaiter was standing respectfully at the edge of Bill's cushion.
"Who's it going to be, darling?" Bill asked Sandra.
The girl had already selected the waiter that she wanted, but now she looked uncertainly round the hall. Everyone was engrossed in ogling the sultry, sex-driven figures of the waitresses and waiters who moved in tapered slendor among them.
"Bill! No one else is doing anything like what we were talking about yet!" she protested.
"If the young lady would permit me," said the headwaiter. "The guest who first calls for the body of one of the serving boys or girls, is offered that body with the compliments of the management."
"Craziest place I've ever heard of," murmured Bill, eyeing a seductive blonde who returned his stare with a smile.
"Please, Bill ... you go first. I want to watch you," Sandra pleaded.
"All right, already! Someone's got to get this party swinging and I guess I'm the man to do it. I'll take that one," and he got to his feet to peel his dinner jacket. Then, letting his impulses take charge, he pressed a second gold chip in the hand of the headwaiter who was signaling the blonde.
"I'd like to have the little brunette, too," and he nodded toward the girl who was bending, prettily exposing the cushioned loveliness of her tail to a customer who couldn't keep his hands from her as she served his drink.
"At your service, sir," the headwaiter responded, raising his hand to summon both girls.
"Bill, have you gone positively out of your tree?" Sandra demanded as he kicked off his shoes. "Whatever will you do with two?"
"You'll see in just about one-half minute," laughed Bill as the two waitresses slipped expectantly to his side. One helped him undo his trousers belt and Bill helped the other slip from her the little squares that covered her taut nipples. Both were as hungry for the man as he was to have at them.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Curious onlookers watched from all sides as the first action of the evening began to unfold. When they saw the proportions of the male who poured out of his clothes, they wondered momentarily if he was one of the staff planted to start the festivities. But the look on Sandra's face as she watched her man lower the writhing blonde to the velvet cushion dispelled that notion. Sandra was a study in yearning and fear as Bill crept between the rounded thighs of his mistress of the moment.
She watched in wonder as he lip-loved his way along the tender flesh of the girl's inner thigh and drew closer to the mound of Venus which he had also stripped of its covering triangle.
A low moan escaped the blonde's lips as she felt the teasing tongue and then the pressure of his lips press softly against her delicate flanges of flesh at the crevice. As he tasted the honey of the moisture at the opening, he felt the headiness of his lust sweep him deeper and deeper in maddening hunger to take her fully with his raging tool.
"Lord, I need you both," he groaned, as he pulled free of the sweet mound. The petite brunette followed the nod of his head and lay alongside the nearly delirious blonde, her hips at shoulder level of the penis-hungry girl.
Sandra watched as his length of white bone buried itself in the depths of the blonde's now-crazed quim and then saw the man bend to repeat with the brunette what he had begun with the blonde. Both girls were in a seething heat as Bill played their frenzies to a crest and then just as his climax or one of theirs was near, he would taper his driving thrusts or his penetrating tongue loving.
"Bill, do it to them ... do it ... make them come!" squealed Sandra, nearly unhinged herself as she saw the demonic torture he was giving the two girls.
She ran her hand in under Bill's flat stomach muscles and gripped at the little visible breadth of whiteness that had not yet driven itself into the blonde's body. Fiercely she massaged at the root of the cock to force him to finish the wild action. It turned him wild and reaming mad, and he drove the steely-rod to the very meeting place of their mounds as at the same time, he tongued the gasping brunette to her climax. The three of them were a clasping, thrashing bundle of orgasm possessed creatures as the moment seized them.
It was more than Sandra could bear. Without waiting for the courtesies of the headwaiter or the exchange of chips, she signaled frantically to two waiters who had paused to watch the mad fray of Bill with the waitresses.
They glanced hesitantly at the headwaiter who nodded his approval, and the two stepped eagerly to the luscious girl who was already out of her shoes and stockings and now peeling her satin dress from her sizzling body.
"I want to suck you dry while he takes me any way he wants," she hissed, burning to feel the same feelings her Bill had just experienced. The men fell to the cushions with her and the one whose phallus Sandra wanted between her lips, pressed a throw-cushion beneath his hips to elevate his proud rod for her attack.
The second man, entranced by the soft loveliness of her back, worked slowly from the nape of her neck to the small of her back, breathing warm, intoxicating kisses across Sandra's skin.
There was no containing Sandra's thirst for the phallus whose mushroom crown she was toying across the fullness of her ruby lips. Moistly, she licked at the burgeoning redness, and then, slipped the pink dart of her tongue under and along the ledge. The man moaned his desire for her to take the whole of his blossom from sight and at that moment she let it slip into her cock-crazed mouth.
The second waiter had mounted her buttocks and his hands had slipped beneath her to grasp the fullness of her rich breasts. Even as he massaged the hardened nipples with thumb and forefinger, he let his body slip over the crest of her tail, and as he slid down to his chosen position, Sandra felt the ramrod hardness of his cock slide down the crevice that divided the cheeks of her ass.
Momentarily she wondered if he might take her through that aperture that she'd heard some found joy in. Then she knew differently. He seized his horny length and guided it expertly, deep and low in her crotch, and she felt the broad head pressing at her welcoming and ready cunt. The sudden penetration of his prick from that angle brought instant and fiery contact with the clitoral muscle against the invading prick.
Sandra was too far gone in her frantic sucking of the beautiful tool in her mouth to scream ... but the sudden sweeping orgasm that flooded her as the clitoris contact triggered her crest, drove her wild with the member she was lip-loving.
Both of the men were too super-charged for the first encounter of the evening to withstand the animal-like lure of the girl for more than a few moments. As though on signal, the crisis struck them both at once and Sandra felt the wild taste of semen ricochet against the roof of her mouth while the barrage deep within her tunnel of love brought her climaxing again herself.
It was the prelude for a wild evening. The two who had been with Bill had stayed to see Sandra's frolic with the men. Now both the waiters and the waitresses slipped quietly away from a newly developing union. Bill's penis had soared erect with desire as he had watched Sandra in the role of both agressor and receptacle for male hungers.
He crept to her side as the men left and tenderly turned her on her side and cuddled her to him as she gasped for breath. Then, calm returning, Sandra reached to clasp the rigid stem of her man's hunger.
"Bill ... you were wild! Did I shame you? I couldn't help myself...."
Bill pressed his fingers to her lips. "Shhhh! You wild witch! Stop talking and let a man come visit you."
He crawled between the quickly spread thighs and slipped his love muscle into her fiery pit.
Backstage all was ready for the swinging shows of the evening and Gloria was peering nervously through a crack in the curtain at the audience. Larry, her partner, business-suited to match the role he played in the operation of Titanic, stood next to her.
"Everything's going just great, Gloria," he said to reassure her.
"Oh, Larry, do you really think so?"
"In every way," he answered. He nodded in the direction of Sandra and Bill rollicking together in coital abandon, indifferent to everyone around.
"Those two will tell you the same thing," and he added, "and they'll tell their friends that, too, and their friends'll come."
"Yes," Gloria agreed. "And then some day someone will tell their parents and then just watch the fun hit the fan!"
"Is that so bad?" asked Larry. "You think what happened to those kids really hurt their chance for a happy married life?"
"Of course, I don't believe that," protested Gloria. "But most of the older crowd would."
Larry recognized her stage nerves and knew it was no time to be flippant. "So what do you think that girl and that guy are going to think about each other from now on:
She looked steadily at Larry. "I'll tell you what I think. I think they're both going to have a lot more respect for each other's sexual natures from now on and know that they both have deep, wonderful gifts to bring each other if they can stay open-minded and don't panic and start closing doors.
"How'd you get this way, Gloria?"
"Oh, I've told you about my home before, Larry. It was phony all the way through. Mother was always double-talking Dad and he was always doing the same to her. She had me by another man and tried to make my father believe I was his child." She smiled. "I heard them fighting about that when I was supposed to be asleep one night."
Then her face clouded and Larry saw her lower lip tremble. "I never told a soul about this, Larry, and I don't have to make you promise secrecy because now I don't care." He saw the tears studding her eyes when her glance met his. "Do you know that on the very day my dad died, we made love together. He hated mother so much that I think he did it to me to get revenge...." she paused and took a deep breath.
"I've always hoped though, that he did it as an act of love for me to tell me he understood my own needs to be honest."
He looked at Gloria with new respect. "That's one thing you are, that's honest."
She glanced toward the wings where Rodney had just appeared for the first act of the floor show. "That's why I've been the way I am with Rodney. You know what people call that kind of relationship. Incest. Pure and simple. They never stop to go one step deeper and look at each relationship."
Larry furrowed his brow. "I did, Gloria. You know how I feel about you and Rodney. What I think about what you're doing with him tonight. It's just fine with me ... but then you two are a kind of special case."
She shook her head violently. "No! We're not a special case! Every single person is a special case and what we've gone and done is lump them all together in this category or that, and said it real simple. Good or bad ... heterosexual ... homosexual ... Lesbian ... fidelity ... infidelity ... you name it!"
"So what's so wrong with tags like that?" Larry asked.
"You know what's wrong with them! They belonged back in the dark ages where they were invented before we really began to understand what a complex sexual nature each individual has."
She nodded over to a slightly darkened corner where two of the male dancers were standing nude and ready for their part in the floor show. Both men had aroused penises that stood boldly from their bodies, the red crowns almost touching each other as the two talked animatedly.
As Larry glanced at the two, the one reached to grasp the penis of the other and impulsively bent to kiss the blossoming cap. Larry smiled to Gloria.
"Do you think they can wait till show time?"
Her glance swept the stage. Others of the performers were in the same state as the two men. All of them, like the waiters and waitresses below had the same honor code of abstinence from sex during their days away from the Orbit Room. Now, on the edge of the swinging night, their forces were in high gear and the electricity of their desires danced from one to the other.
Gloria wanted to talk more. "You're good for me, Larry. It helps me to unwind."
He laughed. "I'm talking to keep myself from tearing into you and ruining that beautiful dress! So tell me ... what do you think all this accomplishes?" and he nodded out toward the guests, half of whom were now disrobed and frantically involved with a waiter or a waitress or with each other. "Besides making us a lot of money," he added.
"I think it makes every person here take a long look at himself and get to know what he's really all about."
"You mean," Larry interjected, "you don't think they're just a cunt-happy, cock-happy crowd out for their kicks?"
"Sure they are," she agreed. "But something else is happening to them that most of them don't even realize."
"What's that?" he asked.
"They're finding their level. If they really want to try to screw the whole world, then this is the place they can get a good start. If a man wants a girl and wants to know just the two of them will make it in what the world calls 'marriage', then this is a good place to bring her."
She looked over at the two male dancers still toying affectionately with each other and then at other similar scene beginning to develop with some of the men on the cushions out front. "I think we're doing another good thing here. We don't have any room for the word 'deviation'. If a man prefers a man, or a woman a woman, there's no flap ... no dirty label. He lives it as he sees it and no ones throwing a fit."
"Think the world will ever buy that kind of philosophy, Gloria?"
"Not for a long time," she admitted. "Not till they get away from the idea that the only reason people are allowed to get excited about other people is for the procreation of the race."
"I like your thinking," Larry said. Then he added as he bent to kiss her cheek, "and I hope someday you'll find Rodriguez."
Her eyes were wet again. "I've given up, Larry. I tell myself I'm childish to think I could have really fallen in love in just those minutes in Central Park, that I really want a father for my son...." She paused, reaching for the next. words. "But every time I've about convinced myself, I keep seeing his face, even after all these years."
He squeezed her arm. "I gotta run and check the receipts."
"Bye, Larry ... and thanks."
"Break a leg out there tonight, baby!"
She laughed, her spirits lifting again. "I'm going to try to break a half-dozen ... third legs, that is!"
CHAPTER EIGHT
Offstage, the house orchestra was beginning the slow roll of the tympany. As though some giant hand had reached out into the hall, the audience quieted. Here, in one corner; there, across tumbled cushions, acts of love drove to swift climaxes and the participants, still curled together, looked toward the stage.
Dramatically, the great curtain rose to disclose a totally darkened scene. Then a soft spotlight centered on the slowly moving figure of a young man as he pirouetted in graceful turns from point to point on the stage. He was a slender, but beautifully proportioned youth and he danced totally naked, stiffly aroused.
As he whirled from one turn to another, he paused to let a new light fall on the scene that was intensifying his ardor. Each new light fell on the body of a voluptuous, enticing girl poised and alluring and like the boy, nude.
The spectators could feel the sense of the tableau as it conveyed the time of adolescence. The dancer's passion with himself was mounting with increasing intensity as he swung from one to another of the lush female bodies.
Then, center stage, he could dance no more. His pounding desires had clearly reached a fever pitch and as he fell to his knees, the girls closed in around him to watch the inevitable moment. Far, far back he rocked on his heels, arching to touch the floor with the back of his head so that his mid-section with its inflamed white bone stood like a thing apart from the rest of his body.
The heat of his desire swept the audience and then the ejaculation roared high from the tip of his cock! Slowly the lights dimmed and the stage was in darkness again.
Gloria had mounted the next scene magnificently. She had designed all the action and the setting around the theme she called, "The Choice."
A light fell onstage across the strolling forms of two lovers walking hand in hand. As the soft music of love drifted soothingly out across the hall, the two embraced and then parted, coming together, then separating, at each meeting removing something of the other's clothing.
The onlooker could feel the surge of desire between them and as the last vestige of cloth dropped from the young man's body, the surge was clearly apparent as it stood rampant at his loins.
It was a ballet of the tenderest unfolding of love as each explored and stroked and fondled the other. Then their bodies met and they were no longer two, but one seething, molded bundle of flesh, driving and possessing and sharing their gifts with each other. Just as he felt his crisis soar about him, the youth drew his long taut muscle nearly all the way from its inflamed and tender trap. For just a brief instant, their bodies were two bodies joined by the slender magic link that held them together. Then he drove his manhood deep into the distraught tunnel and the girl clutched frantically at his waist with her lovely encircling legs ... and they came!
"The Choice" moved on to scenes of other hungers and the needs of others of both sexes and of the same sex.
There was nothing lurid or leering in the treatment Gloria staged to dramatize the next desires that appeared. It was a part of the world of sexuality that she could understand and feel for, even though she herself had chosen a different route.
The lights picked up the moving figures as they weaved sensuously together, entwining, then parting, then merging together again. At the one side, the two were men; at the other side, they were women, each of the four enamored of the body of their partner of their own sex.
Slowly the men, whose passions were driven to taste and explore, slipped to the floor. It was at first a gentle choreography as they wrestled with each other's body. Gradually the pace intensified as they struggled together, their bodies tangling in a blending of masculine muscles. Now each had seized the turgid length belonging to his partner and as though they could stand the separation of lips from phallus no longer, each buried the love muscle of the other far into his mouth.
Across the stage the Lesbian scene bore the same marks of wild passion and sweet tenderness. The girls' satin-like flesh wove tighter and tighter as they probed and kissed and sucked. One spread the beautiful thighs of the other far apart to expose the pretty pink crevice that drew her like a magnet. Hungrily she kissed the writhing body, nibbling gently at the turgid nipples, massaging the fullness of the girl's breasts and then slowly sought out the magic triangle.
The scene at both sides of the stage was one of the very special hungers. Once locked together in a whirlpool of desire, the partners were obviously in a world apart. The pounding passions mounted in all four of the participants as their separate crisis soared. The ejaculations of the men into each other, the cresting claiming finish of each girl, was a sight inflaming all the hall. Strange and eerie to some, but to all who watched it was a route of love for those who had heard a different drum and had no choice but to answer it this way.
"Oh, Rodney, you're just beautiful," Gloria said as the boy slipped to her side. No longer could she think of him as her son. Though not yet sixteen, the boy was in all appearances a man. His powerfully built body was narrow-hipped and broad-chested. His face was darkly handsome and bore none of the soft marks of adolescence. It was the mystery at his groin that made Gloria slightly dizzy and filled her with fierce hungers each time she saw him.
This night was no exception. His stallion length had that powerful, ever-burgeoning quality that made Gloria know that she must have him then and there. She struggled with the burning desire that ate at her to fall on the turbulent plank.
"When are we on?" he asked, trembling with his yearning hungers.
The rich and wonderful perfection of Gloria's body seemed more enticing to Rodney each time they were together. Her breasts were full, rounded globes that thrust high and eager for each encounter. He often thought her nipples as they stood stiffly that away from the milk-whiteness beneath were like little cocks, even as was her tactile and turgid clitoris that stood inside her tunnel of love when she hungered for him to take her.
She was an altogether glorious woman and now, impatient for the moment of their act, he pressed hard against her hip, grinding his mountainous prick against her flesh in his excitement.
"Don't do that, you devil!" pleaded Gloria as she struck playfully at the rod. "I'll never be able to wait and we have to.
"I'm going to spray all over the stage in just about one minute," he protested.
Just then, the stage manager signaled the two that he was ready.
The scene that was to unfold was one of savagery and tenderness. But savage was the only word to describe it's initial action!
As the curtain rose, the guests could see the prisoner, Rodney, hanging by his wrists, suspended from the floor ... a lonely spotlighted figure who writhed and contorted in his agonized response to the torture whip. Upraised from his loin was that stud-hard spear, dancing and whipping in all directions to each slash of the whip.
His captors were the soldiers, male and female, of another army. They were obviously enjoying the death throes of the captive as he swung helpless to defend himself from the blows. There was no way that he could control his very obvious sexual response from the inflaming strokes that seemed to drive his penis to even greater proportions each time they cut across his back.
The audience could almost hear the gagging, panting breathing fall from his lips as he fought to hold back the approach of his climax. His testicles leaped full and round as they hung like oranges under his mighty erection.
Then the convulsive thrusting of the hips began as the blows rained with even greater intensity. Rodney's head was thrown back as he screamed toward the ceiling, his back bent in a deep curve, his legs suddenly stiffly rigid.
The spray erupted from the frantic, tumescent stem. There seemed no end to his prolonged orgasm as the gray-white liquid spewed wildly from his cock.
Immediately there was a scramble of the animal-like females to tumble under the shower of sperm and turn face upward under the dancing drops that shimmered in the spotlights as they fell to the opened mouths below.
In planning the scene, Gloria had been reluctant for Rodney to be the tortured prisoner. For the sake of realism, the blows and the wild flagellation had to be real and effective to drive the dangling man to a frantic orgasm. It also took a man whose sexual responses were super-heated and would be driven to erotic heights by the type of beating that would make many faint.
Each blow that fell touched Gloria to the quick. Her own lust for Rodney was heightened to near frantic proportions as she watched his beloved erection bound in helpless hunger, but her own tender feelings for her son felt the sting of the lash as much as Rodney's own back.
If nothing else, it prepared Gloria for the sequel to the whipping. A great cushion was dragged beneath the now-collapsed form of the prisoner, hanging limp from the ropes. His head was bowed and his formidable sex was curled and bent, a still monumental length even when quiescent.
At a sign from the chief of the captors, Rodney was cut down and his body fell in a dead heap outstretched and virile, but inert and unconscious.
The torturers left the scene and for a moment the stage lights softened except for a tiny spotlight that focused on the limp body lying prone across the cushion.
Then a light swung to an upper corner of the stage and Gloria appeared in shimmering silver, wearing the tiara of a princess. She paused on the stone steps that led down to the dungeon and her eyes saw the naked spread-eagled form of her secret lover, apparently dead!
She slipped with hurried but regal steps down to the outstretched figure and knelt to clasp his body to her own. Then, running to the side of the dungeon, she returned with water and proceeded to bathe the stripes from the lash. As though by magic, the red welts vanished to her touch and he was whole again! Very whole!
At his groin the movement began, slowly, almost imperceptibly. Then the flesh lengthened and thickened and slowly stood away from his thigh. Its gradual growth caught the eve of the princess who slid along the length of his torso till her face was directly over his mounting truncheon.
Cleverly concealed microphones along the flooring of the stage picked up every whisper.
"Are you all right?" the listeners heard the passionate girl plead.
As if by answer the fleshy rod rose higher and higher and she bent to press the penis to her cheek. Then tenderly seizing lengths of her platinum hair from her shoulders, she dried the club as she bathed it and stroked it at the same moment. The ballooning mushroom at the top seemed to enlarge with each fondling of the distended bone.
Her lips pressed with passion, puckered and full against the broad cone. Unable to keep from the tender flesh another moment, the princess propelled its might between her lips. Instantly she was gripped by a seething thirst that she could not control. It was clear that her desire was no act.
The lovely head dove to suck and drain the stiff fountainhead. Up and down she bobbed as the diamond tiara sparkled the story of her growing frenzy.
It was then that full consciousness returned to the prisoner and he eased himself to his elbows to stare at his lover's passion. The sight of her lush lips wrapped in love around his great white shaft inflamed him for the taste of her. Before their startled eyes, the guests watched the lunge that tore the sequined sheathe from the body of the girl and laid bare all her pleasure-mad, sex-driven curves.
Like a man possessed, the prisoner writhed and bent to share the same treasure that the princess was taking from him. He spread the lovely legs wide apart and even as she continued to suck joyously at his manhood, he buried his head deep-deep between her thighs. The sounds of their loving, their long drawn-out thirsting with the other inflamed sex center, carried sensuously through the hall on the sensitive speakers.
Then the trauma was mounting and their frenzy with the beauty of each other was riding out of this world as the two neared orgasm.
A cleverly placed camera picked up the most intimate action of the lips and the frenzied quivering of the pair's most secret places. Overhead of the stage a scrim curtain then reflected in panavision what the eye of the camera discovered. To every one in the hall, it was as though he was right there, participating in the final seconds before the onslaught of the orgasms.
Then they came! It was a torrid, nearly maniacal sea of lovely flesh that flashed across the screen above the lovers. Buried deep in Gloria's mouth was Rodney's spurting rod, the overflow of his coming dashing in little drops from the sides of her clasping lips. The passion of the girl as the tongue of her man thrust her screaming across the threshold of her crisis was clearly seen. The whole hall was awed and hushed by the moment and then caught up as the two, still unsated, swung to clasp and kiss.
His-penis was still stiffly reared from his body and now he had to have the ultimate moment. The readiness of Gloria was clear as the camera caught the glazed and passion-ridden expression of her eyes. The hardness was pressing now at the tender sweet lips of her cunt.
It disappeared as though sucked into the yearning body by a great magnet. Down he drove as she wrapped those sleek thighs around his torso. There was no possibility of slowing what had now claimed the two of them.
At that moment, a prison guard flung open the dungeon door above the embracing lovers! With a cry to his comrades, lie leaped down the steps, sword drawn and ready to strike. Just as he was about to drive the point of his blade through the copulating couple, an order was shouted from the top of the stairs.
It was the captain of the guard! Outraged, he stormed to stare at the scene of erotic madness that writhed on the great pillow. He could see that the supreme ecstasy was about to possess the two who were totally oblivious to his presence.
"Take them at the moment of their highest joy!" he screamed at the guard as the man again drew back his sword to strike.
The scene was all too real. To all who watched, it was no longer a play, it was about to be a tragedy. Breathlessly they watched as the camera translated the onrush of the orgasm to the large scrim screen. They heard Gloria's panting, pleading hunger.
"I've ... I've got to come ... I can't wait ... another ... I ... ohhhh!!!"
At the very instant of her cry of crisis joy, accompanied by the groans of his own male delirium, the blade fell!
A sharp cry dashed from Gloria's lips as the point drove through the back of her lover and impaled the both of them to the cushion. Convulsive reflexes tossed their bodies in last involuntary responses to the thrill of their coming.....and then the bodies were still. Very, very still!
Locked and bound in their sexual union, the camera caught the thick white root of Rodney's cock as it remained plunged nearly to the hilt far into the soft orifice beneath him.
Like a savage animal, the captain of the guard, his own penis now standing stiff and obvious through the metal plates that dangled from his waist, reached, and plucked the blade that had thrust into the bodies.
A total silence had fallen on the hall. They watched, wondering if indeed the two bound bodies had been butchered at the height of their ecstasy.
From the wings four men appeared and walked to the corners of the giant cushion that held the still forms. Gently they lifted the cushion, raised its burden high above their heads, and started slowly toward the audience.
"I can't look," mourned Sandra, convinced that the two on the cushion were locked in death.
"It's just an act, honey," whispered her date, Bill, as he fondled nervously at his groin.
Then the bearers rounded the aisle and passed on their way back to the stage.
Sandra reached across Bill's lap and seized his quivering cock as she stared entranced at the molded bodies joined tightly as one.
"Oh, Bill," she murmured. "Wouldn't that be just a glorious way to go!"
He nodded as he stared after the retreating bearers.
They paused, just as they prepared to step into the darkness of the stage. Suddenly a slight movement appeared atop the cushion that they bore. Then another ... and still another. Slowly, surely, the coital thrusts began again as the cushion was borne up the steps.
The two were alive!
It was an inflamed and animal-like guest group that witnessed the burning, searing action that came alive between the princess and the prisoner.
All through the hall, gold and silver chips flew to eager headwaiters who then directed the ready and willing waiters and waitresses to serve the impassioned hungers. It was a . totally unhinged orgy as couples met and locked and gasped their frenzy.
Not the least important of the guests who were party to the events in the Orbit Room was a group of four men. They had dined in the Titanic dining room, made their request to the maitre d' and been admitted as guests to the orgiastic frenzies.
Unknown lo any but themselves, the quartet formed the investigating arm of the vice squad! Captain Lcary had charge of the group which was to see if the action of the club was an uninhibited as the reports that had drifted back to headquarters had claimed.
"Tonight, we just mingle," he had announced to his subordinates before they left their car at the marina.
"Have yourselves a good time it's on the state," he'd added.
And that was the whole twist that threatened to cut short the life of Titanic after a fantastically successful six months. The state. Larry, with the care bred of his caution as a lawyer had thoroughly checked out the city statutes. Situated offshore, the club was out of the jurisdiction of the municipal authorities. The question that he had not been able to resolve was the limit of the state's authority. It was just possible, he conceded to Gloria, when he gave her his final verdict, that action by the state could be taken to shut them down.
"Is it worth the risk?" she'd asked him, knowing that she had put every penny of her inheritance into the venture in Long Island Sound.
"I'm game for the long shot," he answered.
At dinner Leary had laughingly pulled a tiny tube from his jacket. The other three officers had looked quizzical as he dropped two drops of the liquid in each drink.
"Poison, Captain?" smiled one.
"There's a better word for it," he answered. "Let's just call it an aphrodisiac."
"What the hell is that?"
"Just a guarantee that none of you will act like fuzz down below. You'll find that it helps you enjoy yourself."
Even without the Spanish fly, the men would have enjoyed themselves. They'd all logged years on the squad but this scene was something else.
"Goddamned, if I don't think this whole idea is a pretty great one," one of the men whispered hoarsely to Leary as a nubile nude serviced his overjoyed prick. .
"I'm with you ... but don't fall in love with it," Leary answered as he eyed the passion-maddened length disappearing from view, buried deep in the lips of the sexpot who was clutching at the man's buttocks to force him closer.
CHAPTER NINE
"We've got to move in," declared the captain as the wee hours of the morning lengthened toward dawn.
"It's a damn shame, if you wanta know," responded one of the team.
"I don't want to know," snarled the captain as he led the three toward the door at the side of the stage.
"Sorry, sir, that's a private lounge," intervened a husky headwaiter as Leary reached for the knob.
"S'all right ... we're friends of Miss Hard's and she's expecting us," Leary answered good-naturedly.
The four entered the hall that led to Gloria's private dressing room.
The quartet from the vice squad was the last group that Gloria was expecting!
"dome in," she called in answer to the knock at her door. She imagined it was Larry with the report of the receipts of the evening and she was lounging comfortably on the daybed in her room, attired in a full-length nylon chiffon housecoat. The tiara that had crowned her lovely platinum blonde hair for the princess role was still perched prettily. At every point she was a royal beauty, and the men stared breath-taken as they swung open the door and stepped into the room.
"Oh!" she exclaimed, staring in surprise at the four and wondering for an instant if she should touch the alarm button just under the carpet at the corner of the daybed.
"Miss Hard?" The captain's eyes were ogling the figure that he had watched in that unforgettable scene of love on the velvet cushion.
"Yes?" she answered, questioning their purpose with her eyes, but still remaining as she was in casual ease on the bed.
Captain Leary produced his credentials and passed the card case to Gloria.
She looked at the shield and the I.D.
"And...?" she asked as she returned the case to the somewhat nonplussed captain.
"I'm afraid I've got bad news for you and your people, Miss Hard," he began.
"Don't tell me, let me guess," she broke in, leaning forward and pressing her fingers to her temples as she thought. '
"I know!" she exclaimed. "Our ship is in the channel and you would like us to have it towed downstream by tomorrow night!"
"I'm sorry, ma'am, I wish it was something that would be as simple as that. It's your operation. We've got to shut you down."
Now Gloria's foot slipped over the edge of the bed and she pressed the button under the carpet. Almost instantly the door sprang open and the burly headwaiter and two well-built waiters appeared.
"Trouble, Miss Gloria?" The headwaiter was advancing ominously toward the captain.
"Would you ask Mr. Marston to come here?" she asked.
"Certainly, ma'am."
Moments later, Larry appeared and Gloria introduced the captain. He repeated his words and added that the vice and morals squad would give them one day to shut down the Titanic.
"That's a hell of an ultimatum, Captain!" Larry exploded.
"You can check the law with our department, Marston," replied the flushed captain. "Meanwhile, I'd suggest that if you plan to milk this joint for one more night that you tame the action."
Gloria had been watching the captain closely as he and Larry exchanged words. She had seen not only his response to her form as she lay stretched on the day bed, but had also taken note of the others.
Now she rose leisurely from the bed to which she had retreated once Larry had arrived. As though she were completely alone in the room, she stepped over to the wall closet and slid open the door. She selected the dress she wanted and then slipped the hangar over the door frame.
Casually she stepped out of her housecoat and turned suddenly to face the men. She was a ravishing, high-heeled nude!
The captain's mouth fell open as he started to speak and then couldn't find the words. Gloria walked directly to him and placed her hands on his suit-coated hips.
"I want you to do the honors, Captain. Since I'm about to be dethroned, I'd like you to remove my tiara of rank."
She lilted her head to look directly into his dazed eyes. Holding him and straining forward to put herself within easy reach was the lush and maddening woman whose body had so inflamed him during the scene with Rodney that he had spunked uncontrollably in the midst of the act. Now she was within a hand's grasp and offering all that woman to his touch.
"Lord, the damned fly!" he groaned inwardly. It was driving a relentless lengthening rod down the trouser leg and there was nothing the captain could do about it.
"Oh, come now, Captain. Surely you aren't shy!" Gloria was enjoying her taunting now. "You saw everything I had to offer before. It can't bother you now, certainly!"
Quickly her hand dropped from the captain's hip to grip at the now-tenting muscle that reamed for freedom through the pant's leg. Before he could move, she had opened the zipper and flipped the hard-on into the air. She released her clasp and stepped back in shock.
"I never would have guessed that you had one of these, Captain," she teased reprovingly. The man was still standing immobilized, staring down at the thrusting breasts with their dark and pointing cones.
"You have your duty," one voice kept screaming in his inner ear...."She wants you!" said another voice more loudly than his conscience.
Gloria's glance swept the others.
"Why, for heaven's sakes, you all have problems and nobody is allowed to leave the Orbit Room with any problems!"
The sight of their bewitched captain and his own arousal stopped the men from any protest as Gloria quickly exposed their own conditions. , She dropped to her knees to face the belligerent and glowing cap at the tip of Leary's cock. With an impish smile she clasped the white and straining bone and propelled the acorn directly between her lips.
"I want to taste you all," she declared with mounting breathlessness as she twisted from one man to the other and took long sucking drafts with lips that pulled madly once, then twice, and then released the captive erection lo dance in frustration at the deviltry of the temptress. They were ready for anything hut more talk of closing at the moment.
Gloria crumpled to the floor, a wriggling, inviling female and as she fell she drew the captain with her, a very willing slave. He fell between her legs as she spread her thighs in a squirming invitation to his manhood.
Larry, who had long ago learned not to be surprised by anything that Gloria did, now watched in awe as he began to gather her full purpose. It was the passing wink he caught from her that sent him toward her desk. Unobstrusively his finger slipped to the record button and a second later he knew that everything was going on the concealed tape.
The captain was beside himself when, just as his erection plunged at the entrancing lips of her dainty cunt, her fingers slid across the passage entrance and blocked his thrust.
"How much do you want me, Captain?"
"You know how much, damn you!" His knob pressed impetuously at the blocked door to her sizzling sex center.
"But, Captain Leary! In front of your men. You should be ashamed!"
"You little witch! Lemme in!"
"Ooohhhh, yes! But the rest of you come join us," she begged, looking at the impassioned trio.
They were at her side, razed with a madness for the wild body on the floor.
"I want ... oh! Captain Leary!" He had pried her fingers away from the pretty quim and now his rod was pressing arrogantly into her.
"You're ... you're making me do it, Captain!"
Over at the desk, Marston was turning the Volume Control higher to be sure to pick up every syllable.
"I want one of you in above," Gloria gasped as she felt the swirling sensation sweep her body from the pumping thrusts of the captain.
"Me ... Take me!" cried a barrel-chested squad member as he fell to his knees at her head and reamed forward at the hips.
"What ... what do you want me to do?" she cried.
"I want you to suck me ... do it now!" and he forced his fleshy rod at her lips.
"Beg me," she persisted.
"Please! Suck it off ... make him come crazy!" was the agonized reply.
The cap disappeared from sight, and now with two of the men going out of their minds from the sensations above and below, Gloria reached to grab each of the other lengths.
"Down! ... Damn you. Down!" She hissed the words. I want all four of you officers giving me orders to come at the same time!"
Crazily the orgy rolled to its climax. In spite of her hate for the people that would shut down her Titanic, the feeling of the spray as it dashed from the cocks she frigged, the captain's length through her middle, and the cock crammed and then coming into her mouth, Gloria climaxed once ... then again ... and still a third time.
Larry Marston switched off the tape recorder when the last male had groaned his delight with the insatiable Gloria. As the captain withdrew his collapsing rod, Larry stepped to the prostrate woman on the floor and tenderly laid her housecoat across her spent form. Nobody said a word as the four rearranged their clothing and started to leave.
"I'm sorry, Marston ... but this makes no difference, you know. Tomorrow's your last night."
When they had left, Larry knelt beside the now-weeping Gloria.
You were beautiful, Gloria! I got every word on the recorder!"
She turned a tear-stained face to him.
"But will it make any difference in the long run?"
"No." He sank wearily to rest on the rug beside her. "It'll put those four back on a heat somewhere in a hick city ... but you're right. They're still going to nail us to the wall, and if I produce this, they II say our own evidence condemns us."
Sadly, Gloria dressed and the two of them stepped to the next room to stir the sleeping Rodney and head back for the city.
"Doesn't help much," mourned Larry, as he drove slowly toward the West and the skyline of stone and steel. "I figure we can salvage about half-a-million on an insolvency sale, if I act fast. I want no argument. It's all yours ... I can make up my losses with my practice."
He smiled at the now nearly asleep Gloria as she cuddled against his arm. "Next time," he said, wryly, "do me a favor and throw any bright ideas I have right into the circular file with everyone else's."
She murmured an inarticulate answer and squeezed his elbow. A moment later he looked down and saw that she was asleep.
CHAPTER TEN
At the very moment that Larry, Gloria, and Rodney were driving back from Throgs Neck to Manhattan, a luxury yacht was making its way down the Sound in the same direction.
A girl aboard the yacht was hugging the port rail near the bow and pointing excitedly toward the silhouette she could see, just out of the channel.
"It's a sinking ship!" exclaimed Princess Margarita y Cordoba to a crewman on the yacht.
He hurried to her side, stared incredulously at the great prow of the vessel that seemed about to take its last plunge into the waters of the Sound. Then he rushed away from her side and hurried up the ladder to the bridge.
A few minutes later he returned to her side and stood a respectful distance until she acknowledged his presence.
"The captain says that it is only a mock ship," he reported.
It made no sense to Princess Margarita and she put aside the rules of her duenna ... the old woman was asleep still, anyway ... and climbed the metal rungs lo the bridge.
"What is a mock ship, captain?" she demanded.
"Oh! Good morning, Princess!" lie was a jovial four striper. "My charts say that that is a submerged vessel but that's all the imagination that charts have. Our navigator who has a nose for wicked places, says that that 'ship' is the wild entertainment center of the Americans. Don't even tell the duenna that you have seen this sight!" He laughed at his humor.
Princess Margarita y Cordoba of the tiny island kingdom of Tauretania, off Morocco in the Mediterranean, found very little to laugh about as she made the pointless journey to America. She had been ordered by her aging father, the ruling monarch of Tauretania to go-go find a husband!
The kingdom had been ruled by the same royal family ever since the conflict between the Christian and the Islamic forces tore it apart with repeated conquests and then finally decided to leave the battered people alone.
Now, centuries later, the last of the family line would soon take the crown and on the shoulders of Margarita alone rested the hopes of the little kingdom for a successor within the royal family. Margarita was the only offspring of the incumbent ruler and thus, the heir-apparent.
Whether the king had done the ultimate, as he liked to boast, in fathering this bewitching blend of Moor and Christian, or what the reason, the fact was that Margarita was the only child.
To be sure, there were only half-a-million people on the entire island of Tauretania. There were still at least a thousand males, any one of which would make a very fine prince consort to the queen.
"They're dull, father ... dull ... dull ... DULL!" Margarita had stormed at the king when he had delivered her the ultimatum to select one of his subjects.
"She is a high-blooded one," thought the man.
Then the solution struck him. His friend, Rainier, had found a Philadelphian some years back. Perhaps! It was worth the try.
So the royal yacht, with its hull gleaming white and fresh had set out for America in quest of a prince-consort for her highness. Margarita was anything but psyched for the trip. But, at least it was better than a summer of chiding from the elderly patriarch of the kingdom of Tauretania!
When she learned that the prow she saw dipping into the sound actually was considered the sin site of America, Margarita's blood quickened. She had somehow believed that the principal inhabitants of the world across the Atlantic were Puritans and soldiers!
She was a unique girl, this heir-apparent to the throne of Tauretania. At what would be considered the tender sweet age of adolescence for many, the Princess at sixteen, was tender, and as yet untouched by man-her guardian duenna saw to that! But she was ready for a man and when the day came that she found him, that lucky male was going to have a handful of very highly sexed female. For Margarita knew all about the ways of love and the sweet nuances of the art of seduction. Whether it was the devil in the duenna that wanted to torture the girl with longing for what was to come, or whatever, the older women had spent long hours describing the ecstasy.
Night after night, in the loneliness of her royal chambers, Princess Margarita had stood before the gallery of full-length mirrors in her dressing room and admired the symmetry and the suppleness of her marvelously formed body. Hers was a skin of satin smoothness; her hair a raven black. Her breasts were no longer those of a girl, hut firm and saucy and full. A tweak of the little dark circles at the center of the rich mounds and the taut buds would burst into straining turgidity. As she writhed and arched before the mirrors, the sinuous lines of her torso bent and thrust forward with tantalizing grace.
It was her mystery of love at the meeting place of her thighs that over and again in the most recent years had tortured her. The education in the art of driving a man mad had, in fact, turned about to madden her own thoughts about the reciprocal joys of such pleasure-mad moments.
Now Tauretania, like so many of the arenas for sun and fun off the North African coast, thrived on a lusty tourist trade. Among the many offerings to the strangers from other lands who flocked into the market place of the capital, were items not commonly found in Morocco, the Canary Islands, or adjacent retreats. Articles designed for sexual stimulation, certain rare drugs claimed to have aphrodisiac qualities ... and that was a lie. Secretly, Margarita had procured them and found that they depressed, rather than exhilarated. But she did manage, without duenna's knowledge, to purchase the item akin to a "dildo" in other lands. It was a perfect replica, small but amusing, done in a rubber compound, of a man's erection.
Unknown to the duenna, who left her to her own pleasure when she retired, Margarita found inordinate joys in plying the rubber penis up her moist and hot vagina. With it she destroyed any evidence that she was a virgin, but with her status, she needed no such evidence! The constant charperonage of the duenna left no one in doubt that she was an unviolated flower. For many months, Margarita enjoyed the little pleasure the tiny pretend-phallus brought her as she manipulated it to induce a clitoral climax. Then even this amusement dulled and she yearned for the arms of the man to whom she might give her body with passion and abandon and without duenna.
The magnificent yacht from the country across the seas drew to its river mooring in upper Manhattan, away from the commercial piers, opposite 72nd and Riverside Drive. It was noon as the traveling party of royal cousins and assorted friends came on deck to see the skyline of the fabled city of New York. Everyone was eager to see the town and for the next six hours, with benefit of motorcycle escort and accompanying dignitaries from the United Nations and City Hall, Margarita made the customary V J.P. sweep of Manhattan.
It bored her to tears! The sight of the monstrous skyscrapers ... and worse, the sight of the giant crowds of people, left the girl weak with the loneliness of the stranger in a crowd.
"What possible chance to meet the man I seek in such throngs," she mourned to herself.
She sat quietly at dinner, back aboard the H.M.S. Tauretania. It was early evening and she asked duenna if she might be excused from the dining room and take dinner in her quarters.
"A headache," she explained, and said that she intended to retire immediately after the meal and, "please don't call me until morning."
An understanding duenna knew the feeling that obsessed Margarita.
"Don't be frightened, my child. Tomorrow the city will look ever so much smaller and then we will begin our quest in earnest."
Margarita had other plans. A generous bribe to the cabin boy had the dinghy lying alongside the aft loading compartment, and moments after she had finished dressing, Margarita was gingerly feeling her way, rowing the little boat ... a thing she had never had to do as part of the royal family ... and aiming it as best she could to a lighted dock she could make out at the river edge.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
She felt mysterious and very wicked as she started up the slope that led from the tiny ramp toward the tree lined street above. She read the name, 'Riverside Drive' on the green shingle, and paused for a moment, staring quizzically at the lights-a green one-then a second later, a red one, that faced her from across the street. Coming from a land in which cars were only for the tourists and the very rich, she knew nothing of the meaning of traffic lights.
Blithely she stepped from the curb as the light turned red. That was her favorite color so that must be her turn to go. A shriek of brakes and a cabby's curse told her that she had been wrong. So did the strong arm that caught and pulled her back to the curb just in time.
"That was close!" the stranger said when she thanked him for-saving her.
"Let me go with you this time," he insisted as he took her arm to escort her to the east side of the street.
Again she thanked him, and then she hesitated.
"Was there anything else I could do?" asked the man, smiling at the bewildered look on Margarita's face. "You aren't lost, are you?"
"Oh, no," she replied and turned to go on her way.
Then she turned and stared at the retreating form of the man whose dark features and ruggedly handsome physique were very appealing.
Why not? she thought to herself. Take a chance. At least, you know he's polite!
Gripped by the heady atmosphere of the foreigner enjoying liberty for the first time in a strange world, Margarita hurried after the man and called as she ran toward him.
"Sir!"
He stopped and watched her approach. "You're going to think me very strange and forward, but I wonder if you could help me?"
"Anything!" declared the man.
"Let me introduce myself. I am Margarita Cordoba and I'm a visitor from Tauretania. It's the first time I've been to New York."
She paused to see if his guard went up. He was smiling broadly and she liked him even more. His face was honest.
"What's your name?" she asked.
"I'm Rodriguez Ortega," he answered.
"Oh! Then you are Spanish, too!"
He nodded. "I'm Puerto Rican Spanish. What can I do for you?"
"Would you by any chance be free to be my escort for the evening? I'm so anxious to see something special here in New York."
Rodriguez Ortega was delighted by the request. He rarely had a night to himself. He was a bandleader in a little club in the Sixties and it was just about a seven-day operation. A very profitable life, but a very confining one.
Rodriguez had often thought of the distance he'd come since his childhood. He'd often thought of that mad night when the Black Knights had waylaid him, dragged him down to the Go-Go joint, forced him to screw with that swinger in the window over Broadway.
It all seemed so very far away now-all but one part of that violent evening. The encounter in Central Park, before the Black Knight leader had spoiled it, when Rodriguez for a few heavenly moments had been with the girl who called herself Gloria.
The years had flown by and the savage memories had dimmed as his success in music had grown. But the picture of that beautiful girl as she took his body into her own, as she whispered her love before she fled, never did leave him. Gloria was as sharply etched in his mind this very night that Margarita met him as she had been then.
He jolted back from his moment's reverie. "Where would you like to go ... I'd be honored to take you."
"Have you heard of the Titanic?"
Rodriguez looked at her in surprise.
"Not the Titanic! A nice girl like you? I'm afraid you'd be shocked."
She slipped her hand into the small silver evening bag and drew out a white envelope.
"Rodriguez, will you take me there? I would like to be shocked!"
Curious, he opened the envelope and drew out the sheaf of bills. His eyes slowly widened in amazement as he counted them-twenty, one-thousand-dollar bills!
He suddenly felt caught up in the magic of the wild invitation.
"You didn't make these bills yourself now, did you, Margarita? "
She shook her head, laughing. "It's honest money," she smiled.
"Then we're on our way to the Titanic, but don't say I didn't warn you."
Rodriguez hailed a passing cab, eager now to see this place the authorities were vowing to shut down.
Half-an-hour later, Rodriguez and Margarita stepped onto the marina platform at Throgs Neck. A long-faced attendant helped the girl aboard, admiring the sleek lines that the silk sheath she wore served to dramatize.
"Going to be our last night," he intoned soberly to the passengers aboard.
"Why ever is that?" demanded Margarita.
"State vice squad says we're too hot to handle, and the blue noses are screaming all the way from Albany to Washington."
"Will the Orbit Room be open?" asked another passenger. The pilot of the skiff nodded.
When they stepped into the plush foyer of the Titanic, Margarita breathed a note of instant approval of the decor.
"Dinner first?" asked Rodriguez, hoping that that might satisfy this lovely visitor. Suddenly, he had qualms about taking her down to the Orbit Room about which he'd heard so much.
"Oh, no," she demurred. "I've already eaten and I really want to go to the entertainment room."
Rodriguez stepped to the maitre d' and whispered in his ear. There was a hurried consultation with a number of other men and the maitre d' and then he nodded to Margarita.
"We have to go into what they call the Lounge first. You'll have to be prepared for almost anything and don't say that I didn't warn you."
He took her arm and they stepped down the flight of richly-carpeted stairs and into the exotic environment of the examination room.
Margarita had thrown all caution to the winds. This was a night she intended to remember. She felt only a mild shock when a handsome young attendant took her arm and led her to a dressing room.
"Please take off your things," he requested of Margarita.
It gave her a light-headed feeling of sheer wantonness to stand a second later completely nude before the man. It gave the attendant an equally light head to see the intoxicating beauty of the lovely before him. His penis immediately elongated and soared down the elasticized fabric of his tight slacks.
It was the first male erection that Margarita had ever seen ... and as he led her to the couch, in spite of the royal training of years to show perfect self-control, Margarita was suddenly unhinged!
The exploring fingers that slipped to tease along the flanges of the sweet cunt sent shivers of desire roaring through the girl.
"I have to check your body as well as your belongings for any weapons," he explained, fighting the desire to violate the house rule and take this morsel of sizzling wonders then and there!
"If you check me for weapons, then that should be my privilege with you," she said mischievously. Quickly she reached between his thighs and pulled down on his fly. He couldn't move fast enough and there boldly and angrily thrusting into the air was his rigid prick!
"You can't do that, miss!" he protested.
"But I will do that," she said, grabbing the stiffness with both hands.
"Please, don't!" he cried. "I'll get fired."
"What different," replied the overheated and now sex-driven princess. "You're closing tonight anyway."
The phallus was too beautiful for Margarita to relinquish. It made the silly little toy in her bedroom look quite ridiculous. Eagerly she pulled at the taut muscle.
"You're ... you're going to make me come!" the young man exploded.
His cry, mixed with desire and fear, brought the immediate attention of the headwaiter in charge and he hurried in to the dressing room.
"Please, miss," he asked. "You'll cost the boy his evening's pay. Just wait a few minutes until you get below."
Mournfully, Margarita put her dress back on and rejoined Rodriguez. He eyed the girl as she approached and tried to unscramble the puzzle of her behavior.
"I can't read you very well," he admitted.
"Neither can I," she agreed. "But let's just forget me and go have fun."
Fun was precisely what the night was to be about, Gloria had told the waiter and waitress crew as she informed them that this was the last night that the Orbit Room would swing.
"Anything goes," she told the serving crew. "You've all been just wonderful and we think the closing can be contested. We just don't have the funds to take it all the way.
She looked at the sombre faces of the people that had come with Larry and herself to make the Titanic, the one place in America that would blow all sexual inhibitions and serve notice on the dull and drab and horribly conventional that there was another way.
"Tonight ... no holds are barred. House rules are suspended. If you want to take each other, do it with my blessings. You can pick up your checks at the end of the evening...." and she paused, looking down at the desk top to fight back the tears. "I just want to say thanks. We've tried to say it with a little bonus to tide you over while you're looking ... but you mean more to us than that."
Margarita and Rodriguez had slipped to the cushions near the stage front which the handsome tip Margarita's escort had slipped to the headwaiter earned for them.
The Orbit Room was packed. The last night guests were boisterous and lusty in their anticipation of the evening's fun to come.
"Did you see what those swimmers were doing to each other?" Margarita whispered to Rodriguez.
He had. The effect of the naked males and females, the seething sights of copulation done on this last night in front of the rocks at the sea bottom, had started a mammoth erection at Rodriguez' groin.
Then the waiters and waitresses appeared in the hall. The scene in the underwater pool was forgotten as the protruding lengths of male meat and the voluptuous bodies of the wild waitresses appeared in view.
"Oh, Lord, what next?" moaned Rodriguez as a torrid blonde brushed her hip against his shoulder in a slow, inviting grind while she took his order for drinks.
"You can take them right here in this public hall?" asked Margarita, spellbound by the sensuality that had enveloped her.
He nodded.
"Do you like that one?"
He looked after the retreating figure of the nearly nude waitress.
"Of course. She's beautiful."
"Oh, Rodriguez. You take her. I want to watch you."
It was virtually impossible for Rodriguez to know why he didn't leap to the opportunity. He had hardly been chaste in the years since the meeting of the girl he couldn't forget in Central Park. Ordinarily, he would have seized the chance. Something restrained his lust for the moment.
At that very instant Gloria parted the curtain just a crack to see if they had a filled house. Her eyes scanned along the front rows of cushions where she could make out the faces clearly.
Larry was at her side and she smiled rather wryly as she spoke to him. "At least, I don't see Captain Leary and his henchman here tonight. Maybe last night was enough!"
He growled, 'It should have been. I wish I had at least thrown one punch to get it out of my system."
She clasped his hand.
"I'm glad you didn't, Larry."
"Know where you're going from here?" he asked.
She shook her head., "I think I'm going to get out of New York for a while and try to forget what we almost made work here. It just seems a...." She stopped as thought she had been struck lightening.
"I don't blame you," Larry sympathized, then he saw her face pressed close to the crack of the curtain. A flush of red appeared at the nape of her neck.
"Are you all right?" he asked, suddenly alarmed by the tremor that struck her body.
"Larry, it just isn't possible, but sitting right out there in the front row is the boy I met years ago in Central Park!"
CHAPTER TWELVE
He looked toward the cushions where Rodriguez sat staring blankly at the stage.
"Want me to call him back here?"
"Oh, God ... no! He wouldn't even know me and besides, he's with his wife or some girl."
In the background the tympany rolled to announce the first number of the stage show. It was the diving number. For some reason, Gloria had reversed the order for their last night and saved the savagery of the dungeon room act for the last.
The curtain rose and Gloria whispered to Rodney as he prepared to leave her for his entrance on the opposite side of the stage.
"Tonight, Rod, let's not go all the way. Well fake it, if it's all right with you." He nodded, disappointed.
Then the curtain rose. Two great rising columns of steps framed both sides of the stage. In center stage a great translucent pool dominated the scene. As Rodney stepped naked into the spotlight, his muscled body glowing, Margarita sat bolt upright on her cushion and stared in awe.
She seized Rodriguez' arm. "Is he real?"
Both of them stared at the monumental erection that darted stiffly from Rodney's crotch.
Rodriguez nodded. Margarita was entranced with the organ first and then with the beauty of the man.
"Oh, Rodriguez, was there ever such a man!"
"Sure, lady-right here beside you," he laughed, watching her open admiration of the perfectly proportioned youth as he pirouetted toward the opposite side of the stage.
Suddenly Gloria stepped from the shadows, gloriously nude and absolutely radiant. She swung to dance with Rodney ... and in that moment ... Rodriguez knew her!
He rose halfway to his feet as he uttered an involuntary cry, "Gloria!"
Both Rodney and Gloria paused just as their bodies were about to clasp. She looked in the direction of the voice. No need to wonder who it was! Then slowly she slumped to her knees and crumpled to the floor of the stage.
When she opened her eyes, she was in her dressing room and frightened Rodriguez was staring directly into her face.
"Thank the Lord! I thought something terrible had happened to you."
She shook her head.
"How did you know me?"
"How? I've never been able to get you out of my mind!" Rodriguez answered.
Gloria strained to look at the other figures at the side of the room, all watching her with worried concern. Then her eyes caught sight of Margarita.
"Your girl?"
"My friend from Tauretania," he answered. "She's been in New York for twenty-four hours and came for the explicit purpose of getting us back together. I think she's really from another planet!"
Hours later Margarita and Gloria, Rodriguez and Rodney were still talking, now alone in the dressing room.
Rodney couldn't take his eyes off the man Gloria had introduced to him as his father.
"Now I know where I got the dark hair and the dark skin," he said as Rodriguez told him of the Spanish ancestry.
Impetuously, Rodriguez swung to Gloria. "I've just got to know ... and now! Do you care a damn about me after my running away that way? "
Gloria looked impishly at Margarita. "Have you changed your mind about what you wanted to see this evening? "
Margarita shook her head wonderingly.
With tantalizing slowness, Gloria let the coverlet slide from her body. Sexily she writhed an accompaniment to the invitation to her arms. A moment later a passion-maddened Rodriguez crept naked and totally inflamed into the bed. As their bodies met and pressed in starved anticipation, he whispered, "This time, you won't get out of my sight."
Margarita's hand slipped into the warm hand of the boy at her side. Rodney felt the torrid desire for her that she felt for him. Slowly his hand crept to the zipper at her back.
"May I be your teacher?" he asked. By answer she let the dress tumble about her feet and folded into his arms light-headed and wild for his lessons. Toward morning the ship-to-shore in the radio room of H.M.S. Tauretania picked up a call on the emergency band.
"This is the Princess Margarita speaking," the voice said. "You will please bring the yacht to Long Island Sound...." and she gave their location east of Throgs Neck Bridge.
There was a stunned silence from the radio man aboard the yacht. Imperiously, Margarita repeated the order and the voice from the yacht acknowledged.
"We will be there within an hour, your highness. Did I understand correctly that we will be taking three guests aboard?"
"That is correct," said Margarita. "Will you have the steward prepare the staterooms. They will be returning with us to Tauretania."
The awed radioman acknowledged again.
"Now," continued Margarita, "you will please cable my father and send him the following message." She paused and looked at the man whose mighty length she could feel lying momentarily limp in her tunnel of love.
