IT'S SHOWING SIGNS of life." the blonde reported in matter-of-fact tones. "You had me wondering if I was losing my touch."
"You're not losing a thing, baby." He looked past his flat belly and watched while her long pink tongue made another pass along the underside of his cock. She raised her head and evaluated the result with critical eyes.
"I don't know. You're such an oddball. Maybe I'd better give Barbie a call."
"We're both oddballs, funny girl."
"Right. And aren't we lucky to have found each other? What about Barbie?"
"Later, maybe. Don't be such a defeatist."
She laughed and turned her head sideways, her eyes on his face while her tongue danced over the head of his cock. She saw his glance flicker to her hips and immediately got to her knees, changing her position until she knew he was staring at her pussy.
"That seems to help," she observed thickly. "Sometimes I think you'd rather look than touch."
"Sometimes I would. This isn't necessarily one of the times. Bring it a little closer."
She obeyed eagerly, sliding a slim white thigh across his chest. His tongue wandered over the open pink lips, and her ass quivered. She could feel his eyes burning her. It was almost as good as his tongue. Her mouth opened, admitting the swelling knob at the end of his stiffening cock. She lowered her head, lips moving slackly over the hardening shaft. His tongue was squirming its way into her now, and she felt herself opening quickly. Her cunt always responded readily to that kind of treatment. Always.
She lifted his thighs, one at a time, and thrust her hand between the cheeks of his ass. Her middle finger probed his anus, gained an entrance, and with careful movements she buried it in him. He was sucking the lips of her pussy now; in a few moments she'd turn into an animal, just the way she always did.
She lifted her head, allowing the turgid cock to escape with a wet sucking sound.
"I want to finish it like this," she muttered.
His hands cupped her small taut breasts, squeezing gently in what she knew was assent.
"Will you be able to come all right?" she whispered. "Last time you held out for over an hour, and I came until I was exhausted. I-I don't think I can take that again. Not so soon."
He squeezed again, not so gently this time, and once more she lowered her head. She let his cock force its way between her lips, past her teeth, and on to the back of her throat. Her lips tightened, moving the loose sheath of skin over the hard shaft, and her hips jerked as his tongue found her clitoris. She was slipping fast now. Soon the rapturous red madness would seize her; she would surrender herself to that ravenous mouth and teasing tongue-and she would become a writhing moaning idiot in the throes of her own enslaving pleasure.
And she knew just exactly how it would be. Her slim white body would jerk and contort with passion, her trim hips would churn with incredible spasms of movement, her small waist would twist and buckle. And she would continue until she collapsed with satiation. She knew. Because she'd watched herself often enough in that big mirror beside the bed.
But at this point she was still writhing sensuously, her movements controlled by his lips and tongue. The tip of his cock slid deep into her throat. She growled, transmitting the vibrations down the shaft and into his gently squirming hips-and then she withdrew until the flanged rim of the glans was against her teeth and she sucked it hungrily while her tongue caressed him.
He was eating hell out of her. There was a lot of soft slippery flesh in his mouth now; he sucked it rhythmically, punctuating his efforts with that darting tongue, stroking the warm flesh with his lips as it oozed back and forth in his gaping mouth.
She was shaking now, and her movements were losing their responsive tempo. She could no longer control her hips. Her compact ass was jerking madly, her mouth was emitting sounds like those of a hungry dog eating its supper, and there was a low tortured growl in her throat. She was close. Oh God, she was close! And his cock was so good, and his mouth was devouring her; his tongue was a flame that reached into the core of her being and set it aflame-and it was rapidly driving her out of her mind.
She turned her face slightly, her open mouth gobbling at the head of his cock while she watched herself in the mirror. Her partner's body was only a vague entity in her fevered mind. It was the sight of her own slim white shape that fascinated her, that sent the lovely waves of excitement coursing through her-that bent her back into that graceful curve, that set her hips to hunching so wildly.
It was difficult to be certain when one orgasm spent itself and the next one began. Not that it mattered. She was so lovely, so lovely. See how the shaft of his prick joined them, rising from his writhing body to disappear between her wet swollen lips and distended jaws. There was his face under the curve of that beautiful dancing ass-and see his hands on her breasts and thighs and belly.
She moved her left knee farther forward, shifted her weight until she could see under the reflected thigh- and oh God, God she was coming again.
Her back ached. So did her hips and jerking thighs. And so did her straining jaws. She wouldn't last much longer. She'd come innumerable times, changing position occasionally to view herself from a different angle, but now she was nearing exhaustion. Wasn't he ever going to come? He was the only one who could hold on long enough for her to achieve real satisfaction, but now she wanted him to finish it. First the head of his cock would swell-his movements would be frenzied and he'd probably bite her-and then the thick gouts would go spurting into her throat. And that always brought on an orgasm that left her completely shattered.
There was a dull ache in the lower part of her belly. She watched her reflected convulsions with what would have been detachment if it weren't for the flames searing her cunt and flickering along her body. The orgasms were arriving infrequently now, distinctly separated and bone-grinding in their intensity. If he didn't come soon she was going to help it along with her hand. He didn't like for her to do that, but... Wait! She could feel his teeth now. And he was using the entire length of his tongue, driving it between her slackened lips as if her cunt were full of honey and he were a starving bear. And the head of his cock was swelling. He was going to come, he was going to come. And they would go cart-wheeling into the sky while the earth disintegrated with slow rumbling explosions and that white loveliness in the mirror went completely berserk.
Soon, soon...
She sipped at her drink, set the glass on the low coffee table, and lighted a cigarette. Sighing comfortably, she settled herself on the broad couch with her blonde head resting on one of the arms. After a moment's thought she turned slightly, drew up her right knee, and placed a slim foot beside the drink. The knee sagged- and noting the direction of his glance, she laughed softly.
"Haven't you had enough of that, tiger?" she asked lazily.
"Ask me again in a few years, beautiful."
"That sounds promising." She turned her head, gazing across the room to where he sat in an easy chair, a tall drink in his right hand. Her eyes rested for a moment on his genitals, slack and shriveled-looking between his spread thighs. Then she looked at his face.
"I'm a wreck," she said frankly.
"No, you're not a wreck. You're beautiful, as a matter of fact."
Her left hand ruffled the small triangle of light brown pubic hair. "Am I? As beautiful as Jonni?"
He thoughtfully considered the lithe naked body. "More, to my eyes. She's-well, she's sort of rugged and earthy, if you know what I mean."
"She's lovely."
"Yes, she is."
"And-she has a gorgeous body."
"That's a fact. But how would you know?" His tone was bantering now. "Have you ever seen her naked?"
"I caught her act at D'Amato's. She might as well have been naked."
"That's what she said. She quit after the third show."
"Why?" Her tone was frankly curious. "A woman should be proud to show off a body like that."
"She doesn't see it that way. She's primarily a singer, when you come right down to it."
"Oh? That dance was one of the sexiest things I ever saw."
"Yeah." He seemed uncomfortable now. "The agency has other things in mind for her."
"No more dancing?" She let him see her amusement.
"That's what she says. Can we talk about something else?"
"You surprise me! After all, she's one of the agency's hottest properties. Tell me about her. Is she good in bed?"
"Not as good as you."
"Let's see," she said thoughtfully, exhaling a cloud of smoke. "You like my body better than hers, and you say I'm better in bed. So why don't you brush her off and move in here with me?"
"I'm beginning to think it's a good idea," he said gloomily. "If it wasn't for Frank."
"Frank only runs the agency. He doesn't run our lives. Does she know you aren't in love with her?"
"Love! What the hell has love got to do with it?"
"I think it has a great deal to do with it-from her point of view. Tell me the truth: you snowed her under before she gave you her key, didn't you?"
"Snowed her under?"
"Hearts and flowers. The true love bit." She went on when he didn't answer. "You're a rotten bastard, Jimmy. I love you, but you're a rotten bastard."
"True." His grin held no resentment. "All talent agents are rotten bastards."
"I don't believe that," she said seriously.
"Fact. All the successful ones."
"Well, you're successful, all right."
"See? That proves it."
She stubbed out her cigarette. Keeping her tone casual, she said: "Want to know something? I thought you'd be in love with her by now."
"How about that."
"Heart of stone, is that it?"
"She's just not my type. She's a simple girl, with simple tastes. Me, I need-"
"I know about your tastes."
"Funny girl. She's sort of-proprietary, you know? Wants me to shave off the beard and get a haircut. Hell, we don't even talk the same language. The world's about to go up in smoke, and she's upset because that God damned fish burped up its breakfast."
"Fish!"
"That's right. Big ugly monster. She keeps it in a glass tank in her living room. The damned thing must hold fifty gallons. She babies the silly creature and talks to it. Hell, she's just a kid."
"Sweet innocence." Now her tone was biting.
"That's the truth. And that's the main reason the whole thing's falling apart. She's so-"
"Falling apart?" The blonde's eyes were suddenly alert.
"Yeah, Damned shame, too. She's so-innocent, sort of. Oh, she's hot enough, in her own way, but she's inexperienced and-uninformed."
"Seems to me you could fix that-if anybody could." Now her eyes were veiled.
"Well... " To her surprise she saw that he was embarrassed. "The trouble is that she's so-trusting."
"And she thinks you're in love with her."
"I suppose so. Damn it, I just don't want to-to shock her, or... "
"Or turn her off too soon."
"That's right," he said evenly.
"Like you said, Jimmy. Talent agents are rotten bastards. But I think you just don't want to let go."
"Maybe you're right."
She saw that he was getting sullen, and she abruptly changed the subject. "How's the big project coming along?"
He barked a short mirthless laugh. "It's in the final stages. I'm not sure of the exact time, but the mystery man will perform his little chore this evening. It's all set up for him. He could be taking care of it right now, for all I know."
Her curiosity had been reawakened. "She's not-entertaining him at her place, is she?"
"Too risky. Matter of fact, I took her to my apartment."
She frowned. "I don't get it. Was that necessary?"
"Yes, unfortunately. Frank wanted as few people in on it as possible, and-"
"Pretty dangerous, if you ask me. Isn't Jonni's apartment in the same building?"
"Directly below mine. But that's what made it a natural. We had Cissie wear a long black wig, told her to keep her head down-"
"Ah, now I get it. If anyone sees you, they think it's Jonni."
"That's it. I took the elevator to the third floor, just in case, and we walked up a flight. I got her half smashed, and took off."
"Who's the stud?"
"Don't be coarse," he advised, but he was grinning. "Nobody knows who he is, except Frank. And according to him, nobody's going to know."
"Not even Cissie?" She was laughing with real amusement.
"She'll know him before the night's over. All Frank would say is that he's got Hal's coloring, and that the result should be convincing. He did add that the guy was instructed to do a thorough job."
"That should be a pleasant change for Cissie. I don't suppose she objected."
"Oh, token expressions of distaste. Like that. She was taking off her clothes when I left."
"Does Hal know?"
He laughed again. "No, but he'll get suspicious in a few months. Frank thought it was best to keep him out of it. The columnists have been having a field day ever since Hal married her. If they got wind of this, we couldn't get him a booking on Skid Row."
She looked thoughtful. "I hope you cloak-and-dagger types did a little research. It's not simply a matter of bam bam, thank you ma'am. The timing has got to be-"
"She's ovulating," he said dryly. "Thanks anyway."
"Oh. Do you really think this will help?"
"Frank does. When Hal becomes a proud papa, everyone will forget those nasty rumors. So Frank says."
"Good old Frank. I'm talking about Hal's career."
"So am I. He can really sing, you know. That guy was a gold mine until the word got around that he was queer. Frank thinks he'll be a gold mine again."
"Is he really? Queer, I mean."
"Why do you think this proxy papa bit is necessary? Christ, I feel like a pimp."
She thought about it. "That was pretty cute. The apartment and the wig, I mean. And they're about the same size."
"Yes. She's not built like Jonni, naturally. But damned few women are. But we were lucky, and didn't run into anybody that mattered. And that reminds me; I've got to make a phone call." He got to his feet.
"Oh?" She gave him a slow smile. "Planning on spending the night?"
"Why not?"
"Suits me, lover. Where is Frank sending you this time?"
"Uh- New York, I guess."
"Uh-uh. It was New York last time. Better make it 'Frisco."
"Right, baby. Thanks." He picked up the phone as she rose gracefully from the couch.
"I'll fix us a drink." She paused in the doorway, posing sensuously. "Don't tie it up too long, will you? I want to call Barbie." She smiled and disappeared.
Jim hung up the phone, but that low musical voice still sounded in his ears. He'd felt a twinge of conscience when he lied to her, but that had evaporated quickly at the sound of the suppressed excitement in her voice. She'd always seemed so depressed those other times, leaving him with a faint regret that sometimes lasted through his next drink. But this time she was different, and he wondered. Was he losing his hold on her? Impatiently he took his hand away from his beard. It was a habit he'd developed lately, that of stroking the tightly curling growth. He'd have to break himself of it. It was an old man's gesture.
The door chime sounded, but he didn't move. That would be Barbie; the blonde had called a scant five minutes earlier, and Barbie lived in the same building. Really lived there, that is. Not like the blonde, who lived somewhere else and kept this apartment for recreational purposes. He wondered vaguely how she managed it. He knew she was married, of course. But maybe her husband had the same sort of arrangement.
Why did people stay married, anyway? It was all over in a year or -but most of them hung on grimly, unable to explain it, even to themselves. He never saw his own wife. Never even mentioned her.
His thoughts returned to the call he'd made to Jonni's apartment. There'd been no answer. He'd let it ring a dozen times, thinking she might be in the shower, but obviously she wasn't home. He wondered where she could be-and then wondered why he should concern himself.
The chimes sounded again. The blonde swept through the room, long white legs flashing as she hurried to the door.
"Who is it?" she asked in her oddly crisp voice.
"It's me-Barbie."
The blonde promptly opened the door, and stood aside as the visitor entered. The newcomer was even taller than the blonde, with a rangy athletic-looking body and short brown hair. Her heart-shaped gamin face was at odds with the daring mini-skirt and the long shapely legs. She wore no bra, obviously; her nipples made arrogant little hillocks in the tight sweater -but her high-set breasts were small enough and firm enough for her to get away with it.
The face was also at odds with the husky voice. She greeted Jim with an off-hand brevity that dismissed his nakedness, and he acknowledged her with one of his wry grins and an airy wave of his empty glass. But her brown eyes dwelt on the blonde's classic proportions.
"Pretty casual, aren't we? At four in the afternoon?"
"Do you mind?" The blonde smiled while the other's gaze lingered.
"Hell no. Clothes are for strangers. But I feel a little out of place."
"That's no problem." The blonde gestured toward the couch. "Make yourself at home. Take off your shoes-and anything else that might be in your way. I'm going for a fresh bottle and the accessories."
"Aren't you afraid I might assault our friend here?" Barbie nodded toward the chair, and her grin was full of irony.
"Be my guest," the blonde retorted. "Only-be sure and call me first. I wouldn't want to miss anything."
"I'll keep it in mind. Uh-wait, Betty.
The blonde had started for the hallway, but now she turned. Barbie raised her eyes to the patrician face.
"A friend was with me when you called. We were having a drink."
"So? Why didn't you bring him along?"
"It's not a him-and I did. Is it all right?"
"Of course, it's all right. Where is she?"
"Well, I wasn't sure. She's out in the hall." Barbie jerked a thumb with a gesture that was oddly masculine. "I told her to-"
"For goodness sake, Barbie! You just left her standing there?"
"Yeah, I did, but-"
"Well bring her in." Betty hesitated, and a slight frown creased her brow. "Are you suggesting that we get dressed?"
"Bring the broad in," Jim growled, the whisky just barely noticeable in his speech. "She'll get used to it. Everybody does. If she doesn't, she wouldn't be good company anyway."
Barbie was out in the hall for over a minute. Jim and Betty exchanged a brief glance; the blonde raised her eyebrows and Jim grinned.
"The friend is getting a briefing," he drawled. "How about that bottle?"
"Coming up, master." She saluted, smiled when his eyes went to her breasts, and walked out of the room.
The door opened, and Barbie came in with her friend in tow. The friend was something of a surprise. She had bright red hair, a round snub-nosed face, and was decidedly plump. (Not fat, Jim decided, eyeing the well-shaped legs, but definitely plump.) His gaze traveled upward over the rounded thighs and generous hips, and came to rest on the damndest pair of tits he'd ever seen.
They were like the doctored jobs in a Playboy fold-out, he noted: big and heavy, set high and far apart, and not nearly as pendulous as their size would lead a man to expect. And these were the real thing. They jiggled emphatically each time one of her spike heels hit the floor, and a sheen of white skin glowed through the straining mesh of her sweater. Big nipples protruded from the darkened areas around them, forming eye-catching tents in the soft fabric. Her cheeks were deeply flushed, and she kept her eyes on Jim's face during the introduction.
"Faye, this is Jim Reed. He's the agent I was telling you about. Faye's a model, Jim. She's been dying to meet you."
"Uh-please don't get up," Faye said hastily, and Jim showed her his wry grin.
"How do you do," he drawled, letting her see his eyes on those tremendous breasts. "If I'd been asked, I'd have said 'that girl is a model.' Make yourself at home. As you can see, we don't stand on ceremony around here."
A hesitant smile was forming on her rather heavy mouth, and her eyes nickered toward his lap. "I can see that." Her voice was light and almost childish. "I'm certainly glad to meet you, Mr. Reed. I hope you don't mind me-uh-barging in on you like this."
"Forget it." Jim gestured again with the empty glass. "You're more than welcome. Maybe you and I can talk business before the evening's over."
"Oh, Mr. Reed-"
"It's Jim, honey. Relax, and have a seat. There's the couch; there's another chair behind you-or you can try the floor. We're very informal."
"Thank you-uh-Jim. I'm so-" She broke off with a gasp as Betty entered the room. "Oh, my goodness," she said faintly.
"Hi there." Betty crossed the room and set a loaded tray on the coffee table. She straightened and turned, but not before Jim had seen Barbie's eyes on that lifted ass. Now Betty was smiling at them while Barbie made the introductions.
"We're glad you came," Betty said warmly. "I hope you'll excuse my nudity. Jim and I feel that clothes are for the street, and when we come here we just don't bother with them. But if it makes you uncomfortable, I'll get something-"
"Oh, no! Please don't-go to any extra trouble. Besides, I think it's-uh-charming."
"Good. Please sit here on the couch. I don't know what you want to drink, so I'll ask you to serve yourselves. This is scotch, and this one is bourbon. There's ice and water and soda. If you'd care for something else-"
"Oh, no. Scotch is fine."
The redhead sat down, and the mini-skirt climbed to her ample hips. Jim noted again how good her legs were. A little heavy, maybe-but beautifully shaped just the same. Like the rest of her. And those tits were superb specimens.
She leaned forward, pouring herself a drink, and the huge breasts strained against the sweater. Jim could easily discern the outline of her aureoles-and when she was raising the glass, tilting her head back; her breasts lifted.
Jim sat up a little straighter. Barbie lounged in the other easy chair, a drink in her left hand, and the blonde perched her pretty rump on one of the chair's broad arms. Betty raised her glass, drinking deeply, and Barbie's eyes glowed as she watched. Barbie turned her head, murmuring something to the other woman; as if by accident her mouth brushed the pink tip of Betty's right breast. The blonde lowered her glass, smiling-Barbie's lips lingered. And her hand came to rest on the other's thigh.
But Jim's attention was drawn back to the redhead. She'd crossed her legs, and now Jim could see a goodly portion of the right cheek of her ass. But the tits fascinated him. How wonderful it would be to lay his cock between them, to feel the smooth resilient flesh enfold him as her hands pressed them together, to crouch over her-fucking her between the tits-while she spread her thighs and tipped her pussy up to his eager mouth.
He felt the warmth stealing into his loins again, and raised his eyes to the redhead's face. He found it deeply flushed, and her glance dipped into his lap before she looked away. He checked himself while she poured another drink, and the ready grin spread across his bearded face. He didn't have a hard-on, of course. Not yet. But it wasn't exactly relaxed, either. He saw the big breasts stirring under her overloaded sweater- noted the parted lips. And when she looked at him he saw the smoldering excitement in her eyes.
He rose from his chair, sauntered across the room with his arching cock preceding him, and refilled his glass from the bottle of bourbon. He straightened, staring down at her, and only the width of the coffee table separated them. Then he drank, and when he lowered the glass her eyes were riveted on his cock.
"Faye?" he said gently.
She looked up, her face flaming. "Yes?"
"That's the damndest pair of breasts I ever saw."
"Uh-thank you. I mean... Are they?"
The blonde laughed. "Watch out, Red. The guy's a sex-fiend."
Faye looked quickly from one to the other, and her eyes showed alarm when he moved around the table. He picked up the bottle of scotch, and the head of his semi-erect cock was inches from her face.
"May I?" he drawled, and poured some of the amber liquid into her glass.
"Uh-th-thank you."
"Water?"
"Please."
"Ice?"
"Uh-no, no thank you."
"Good. No use killing the taste, is there? Say, honey -isn't that sweater pretty hot?"
"Hot?" Now her eyes were frightened.
"And uncomfortable?"
"Well." She looked confused, and he let it alone.
"Mine is," Barbie said promptly, and a moment later she tossed the offending garment to the floor. She stood up. "So's this damn skirt," and she stepped out of it with rangy grace. She hooked her thumbs into the top of her brief panties and grinned at the stricken redhead. "Might as well get comfortable," she said in her husky voice, and slid them down her thighs.
Faye watched while the panties drifted to the carpet. "My-goodness," she muttered, and gulped at her drink.
Barbie strolled back to her chair and sat down. Jim watched her with obvious admiration, thinking how much better she looked without her clothes, and feeling the life surging into his throbbing cock. It was thrusting well out in front of him now, and would soon be in condition for practical employment. He swung back to the redhead.
"Now about that sweater," he suggested, and his voice was a little thick.
The eyes she turned up to him were hot with excitement. All traces of fear and confusion had left them. "It is-a little restricting," she murmured, setting her glass on the table.
He moved close. "Yeah, it is. Here, baby; let me help you."
CHAPTER TWO
JONNI SAT quietly, her eyes following the opulent shape of the other woman. The famous body was clothed in a floor-length negligee, but there was a warm glow of firm curving flesh wherever the gossamer material touched it. The owner of those spectacular curves seemed oblivious of the girl's fascinated gaze, and moved about the kitchen in apparent unawareness of the effect she was creating.
Jonni's eyes moved over the lush body. Thin might be in, she mused, but no one she'd ever seen could challenge the arrogant sexuality of that earthy full-bodied loveliness. There must be at least a hundred and forty pounds of her, she thought, and not an ounce out of place. The thighs would have been considered heavy on another woman; the rounded hips would be judged too broad, the curving ass too generous, the lusty unfettered breasts disproportionately large. But the tall broad-shouldered frame, with its deep chest and long-legged grace, made it all add up to a beautifully made specimen of hearty womanhood. She was gorgeous.
She turned, with a swirl of long auburn hair, and a smile curved her almost-heavy mouth. "More coffee?" And even the voice was consistent. Slow and throaty, it offered warmth and friendship and unaffected good humor.
"Please."
The woman poured, and the girl's eyes swept over the incredible breasts. They were wonderfully shaped for all their size, youthful in their tip-tilted vitality, vibrant and firm and set far apart on the broad chest.
"Want to talk about it?" the husky voice suggested.
Jonni looked up from her contemplation of a thrusting nipple, darkly pink where it nestled in a froth of lace at the negligee's open front. "Yes, if you don't mind. It's-rather personal."
"I don't mind." The big woman filled her own cup and turned away. The negligee floated about the long beautiful legs while Jonni marveled at their smooth white perfection-and then she watched that swaying rump as the woman walked to the stove, the big rump with its deep cleft and its hearty curves flowing so smoothly into the backs of her thighs-and then she was turning again; the negligee split for an instant to reveal a broad triangle of thickly curling hair-and the woman was walking back to the table.
"So talk," she invited, and the green eyes were friendly.
She's really quite beautiful, Jonni told herself. Those eyes are... Well, they're marvelous. So big and far apart. And those lashes have got to be hers. After all, she just got up. Her nose is a trifle short, and-sort of Irish; the cheekbones are high and on the heavy side, like mine. And her jaw is pretty rugged. The mouth is wide and the lips are a little full-but it's a lovely sensual mouth. How in the world does she do it, with no make-up or-or anything?
The big woman seated herself. The negligee fell away to either side as she crossed those long legs, and she picked up her cup. "Take your time, Jonni," and she was smiling again.
The girl dropped her eyes to the deep valley between the woman's breasts. The negligee was secured at her trim waist with a sash of the same filmy material. Now it had loosened; the vee in the negligee's front no longer existed, and Jonni stared in wide-eyed admiration at the creamy swelling flesh. The woman made a halfhearted adjustment, but only the tips of her breasts kept the soft garment in place.
"Is it Jim?" she asked gently.
Jonni raised her eyes. "Well... Yes, it is."
"He still hasn't said anything about marriage-the damn fool."
"It's more than that. I think he'd marry me, sooner or later. But I'm not sure of myself anymore. And he seems to be-sort of disinterested, if you know what I'm trying to say."
"Maybe I don't. Suppose you spell it out for me. And make it plain, baby. We won't get anywhere beating around the bush."
"You're right, of course." The girl drew a deep breath. "He-he just doesn't seem to be interested in- making love anymore. Oh, he goes through the motions. But he never really seems to-put his heart into it. Not like when we first started living together."
"Let's make sure I've got it straight, all right? He takes you, but it's no big deal for him. And he bangs you once-if he feels like it-and then goes to sleep."
Jonni's face flamed and she lowered her eyes. "That's-about it," she said, low-voiced.
"Like-all the joy and magic is gone. No fireworks, no bells ringing."
"Yes. And-it's not like I was an old hag, or-or didn't try to please him."
The woman's well-kept hand covered the girl's.
"Don't cry, honey. It's no big thing, believe me. Nothing you can't handle."
"And I'm-always careful to avoid offending him, and I try to make myself desirable."
"Sure, honey. Now you level with me, okay?"
"Yes. I will, Mary."
"Fine. How many ways do you two make love, anyway?"
"How-many ways?"
"Come on, doll-face. Take it from the top."
"Well, first we fool around a little... "
"Jonni, damn it-"
"All right! I-I play with his-"
"His cock, baby."
"Yes. I play with his-cock-until he... "
"Gets a hard-on," the woman prompted helpfully.
"Yes, and then he-he gets on me, and puts it in."
"And that's it? Every time?"
"Well, sometimes he fools around with me too."
"That's big of him. Jesus Christ! And you're always underneath with your legs spread, and he's humpin' his ass until he-"
"Yes! Good heavens, Mary."
"Take it easy, baby. Tell me this: have you ever tried making him do without?"
"Without?"
"Without any lovin', baby. No tail, no pussy."
"Yes, but he doesn't care. He just-goes to sleep. Lately he's been going back to his own apartment."
"His own apartment! Hell, this is worse than I thought. Don't cry, baby. All you kids have got is an aggravated case of information gap."
The girl wiped her eyes. "You mean-it's not serious?"
"Sure, it's serious. And if it's not corrected it could be disastrous. Depending on how badly you want the lousy-uh... "
"But how... "
"We'll get to it, honey. First I want to know what we've got to work with. You, I know. You're a livin' doll, and from listening to you I gather that you're not exactly frigid. But-"
"No, I'm not."
"Sure, baby. But I only know him by reputation. He's-"
"He isn't either."
"Don't interrupt, honey. I'm thinking out loud. He's fairly big, and pretty rugged, and damn good-looking -if you like the over-age hippie type. Uh-how's he fixed, Jonni?"
"Pretty well, I think. He's got a very good job, and-"
"That's not what I mean."
"Oh."
"Yeah, oh. Come on, Jonni. Is he a real stud, or just -so-so. Ah, hell. I mean-has he got a cock like a roastin' ear, or-"
"Like-a roasting ear. More or less."
"Good. It's not a must, understand, but it damn sure helps. Now my boy damn near splits me every time he rams that beautiful thing-"
"Mary!"
"Sorry. Just thinking about that stud turns me on."
"I used to be the same way," the girl said miserably. "If only Jim... "
"Don't worry, honey. We'll fix that-if you really think it's worth fixin'. The thing to do is keep him champin' at the bit and pawin' the dirt-"
"But how? I've tried everything!"
"Have you? I sincerely doubt it. Ever get on top yourself?"
"No."
"I thought not. He ever take you dog-fashion? No? In his lap? Know what it's like to be a wheelbarrow, honey? Ever hook your legs over his arms while he's... All right, I get the picture. I don't suppose he's ever kissed your pussy."
"Mary!"
"Uh-huh. Ever kiss him? Like-suck the head of his cock?"
"My God! What do you think we are, perverts of some kind?"
The big woman laughed. "No, baby. I don't think you're perverted. Just sadly neglected. But I don't get it, frankly. According to what I hear, this guy's a real swinger. Well, never mind. First things first, I guess. You arrange to let him see you naked, I hope."
"Yes, of course."
"Does it stir him up? You've sure got the equipment for it, as far as I can-"
"It-used to."
"Old stuff now, that it? He just takes it for granted."
"More or less."
"The asshole. But I wonder... Tell me, are you self-conscious at all? When you're naked, I mean."
"A little, maybe. I don't see what that's got to-"
"It could have a bearing. What I'm getting at is-do you act naturally? I mean, do you move around the way you would if you were dressed, or are you careful to-uh-keep your legs together, and so on? Do you let him have a good look at what you've got, like-it's all yours, baby, and welcome to it?"
"Well... "
"Come on, doll. Ever show him your pussy? Accidentally, of course."
"Absolutely not! For one thing, it's-not very attractive."
"Not to you, maybe. He might feel a whole lot differently about it."
"I really don't think he'd be interested," the girl said stiffly.
"Honey, you'd be amazed at the barriers that would come down if you'd loosen up a little. Are you ashamed, or something?"
"Certainly not!"
"All right. So picture yourself lying across the bed, waiting for him. You're naked, naturally. You're on your back, and when he comes into the room you sort of stretch your arms, draw up a knee, let it sag to the side. You think he won't notice you?"
"I-guess he would."
"You're damn right, he would. And you know what he'd think? He'd think-my little doll's not holding back on me any more. She's lettin' me in on her secrets."
"He-he would?"
"Sure, he would."
"But-he'd be disgusted. I don't think he'd enjoy looking at my... "
"Your pussy? Don't you believe it. But aside from the prurient aspect of the thing, it's your pussy he's looking at-and that makes a hell of a difference. He'd see a certain symbolism in it, baby. And if he doesn't produce a hard-on on the spot, I'd begin to worry about the guy."
The girl looked doubtful. "I'm not sure I could do that."
"Balls! You're lying there watching him, now. He's staring at you. His cock is rising, rising. He's got a hell of a hard-on, baby, and he's licking his chops. And you're the one who's having a ball, believe me."
"Are you sure?" There was a warm flush in the girl's cheeks, and the woman smiled.
"I'm sure. And when you think he's getting used to it, you start incorporating a little movement into the act."
"Oh, Mary!" But now the girl was smiling too.
"It works. When that starts to wear thin you put a hand on the inside of your thigh-the raised one-and let it drift downward. And then, very slowly, you draw the tips of your fingers along the lips of your cunt. And let him see that you enjoy it."
"I could never do that! Play with myself while- while he's watching me?"
The woman grinned. "You're not exactly playing with yourself, honey. Not yet. Remember, we're talking about a period of weeks or months. That comes later. But for the-"
"What!"
"What do you mean, 'what'?"
"But you said... "
"Damn right, I did. And when that time comes, it will open your eyes to a lot of things."
"You mean-you expect me to-to actually... "
"Frig yourself, baby. I sure do. And you'll have him frothing at the mouth."
"Did you ever do that while Mayo was watching?"
"Lots of times," the woman said calmly. "That big stud comes all unglued. And speaking of coming. Honey, that must be the longest winded man in the country-but so help me, I can make him come without getting within six feet of him."
"I don't believe it!"
"It's true. And incidentally, when that happens he's not by himself."
"You mean you actually-achieve an orgasm-while he's watching you?"
"Sure. Matter of fact, I usually come several times before he does-no matter what we're doing. Thank God. That big stud's a holy terror."
"And you really love him very much, don't you."
"I really love him very much. That's what makes it all work out so beautifully. We've had our ups and down, Jonni-but we've never been bored with each other. Boredom ends in splitsville. You can put up with damn near anything else, but that kills you."
"And you think that's what's wrong between Jim and me?"
"I think that's part of it. The rest is pretty simple, too. You're selling yourself short, honey. You shack up on a permanent basis and say, 'Man, this is it! We're playing mama and papa, and we don't give a damn who knows it. We're booting the Establishment right square in the ass.' Big deal."
"I don't think that's-"
"You're cheating yourself, honey. You've got yourself into a rut. You kids aren't making love anymore; you knock off a quick fuck because-"
"Mary!"
"-that's what's expected of you. I'll bet he crawls into the saddle right on schedule, doesn't he? Bang bang bang, and that's it. Another day shot in the-where are you going?"
The girl's lips felt numb. "I'm not going to sit here and listen while you take something beautiful and- and... "
"Sit down, baby. That's just the point. It could be beautiful, but actually it's only a drag. Right?"
"I-I'm afraid so."
The woman had emphasized several points with gestures that were almost painfully graphic, and now the negligee hung loose from her shoulders. The magnificent breasts were completely exposed now, but she seemed unaware of it. She leaned forward, resting both elbows on the table. Her upper arms forced the swelling mounds together, and the right one's conical tip hovered dangerously close to the steaming cup of coffee. Jonni instinctively reached across the table and moved the cup.
"Thanks," Mary said dryly, and grinned. "That brings up another point. A woman can get a hell of a lot of mileage out of her breasts. That big stud of mine practically tears out the front of his pants when he sees my hands on 'em, and now and then we put 'em to practical use. Did anyone ever-uh... "
The girl's eyes were wide and dark. "You-ah- fondle them while he's-with you?"
"You could call it that." The woman leaned back in her chair, and now those bold tips were tilted upward and outward. "Try putting your hands like this-with your fingers spread-and sort of cupped underneath. And leave your nipples peeking out at him."
"Yes. Yes, I-see."
"You can lift 'em a little if you feel like it, or push 'em together."
"Yes."
"But never squeeze 'em. Not unless you've already got his tongue hanging out. Then you can put your hands over 'em like this, and slowly take your hands away. See how my fingertips are converging? Until they all come together at the tip. From that point you have to play it by ear. My big stud likes to watch me tease my nipples-like this. Repeating the whole bit, only starting with my fingertips at the edge of the aureoles. See how it goes? And notice how erect they get? A man likes to see his woman's nipples like this."
"I see." The girl sounded breathless, and the woman smiled.
"You'll get a big charge out of it and so will he, but the point is that you're sending him a message. You're saying: 'Look, baby. I'm ready to play. And if I ever had any inhibitions, they're long gone. So whatever you want is all right with me.' It encourages him, and you'll both have a lot more fun."
"Whatever-he wants?"
"Why not? You'll have him looking forward to getting home in the evenings. Matinees on Sunday afternoon. You'll be on his mind, baby, and chances are you'll be all the woman he'll ever want."
She leaned forward again, and Jonni noticed that the pink nipples were still decidedly erect.
"You have-lovely breasts," she said impulsively, and blushed scarlet.
"Thank you, honey. They're not bad, for a fact- and I damn sure take advantage of 'em. It's a competitive world. A woman has to understand her assets, and make full use of them."
The girl was silent for long moments. Finally she said slowly: "If I could be sure that I-could do these things without appearing awkward. I can visualize a scene like that looking very-contrived, somehow."
"What do you care? So it looks like you set the stage for him. If that doesn't flatter him, he must be some kind of weirdie."
"He's not a weirdie."
"Sorry, honey. As far as being contrived... There's one thing you ought to remember, and it's that sex is a lot more fun if it's spontaneous. Oh, I know; it sounds like I'm contradicting myself, but I'm not. You can set him up-but the next move has got to be his. And don't fall into a pattern. Throw the towels into the hamper-and then ask him to bring you a clean one when you've finished your bath. It's a warm evening; you're wearing a light robe while the two of you watch TV. And all kinds of things can happen to that robe. You can lean over his chair, for instance. See? You've got to use your ingenuity."
The girl's eyes flickered to the big pointed breasts, and this time they both smiled. "I see what you mean," she said lightly.
"Sure you do. The first time I-put on a real show for him, I was sitting in that big easy chair in the living room. I'd just had a shower and we were sitting there having a drink. I saw him eye-ballin' my legs and my tits, and I showed him a little more, naturally... "
"Naturally," the girl drawled, and grinned.
"You're damn right, naturally. And I started getting hotter than hell-and I got to wondering how he was feeling. I don't really know what came over me, but before I realized it I'd leaned back and hooked a leg over the arm of that chair. I covered it by taking a pull at my drink, of course, but the belt pulled loose at my waist. That damn robe opened up right on cue-and when I saw his face... Baby, I knew I was on the right track. And I found out something else. I like having him look at me. I like it a lot. In fact... "
"Yes?" And now Jonni saw a hint of color in Mary's cheeks.
"Well, the truth is... It makes me hot just thinking about him. I wish the big stud would get home."
"Really? I mean-after all these years?"
"You make me sound like a worn out old bat, Jonni. I'm not thirty yet-and it's only been three years. But that's what I'm getting at, baby. Love-making should get better and better the longer you work at it. And you'll notice I didn't say fucking or screwing or having intercourse, because that's only a means in love-making, and not the end. When your loving reaches the point where fucking is all there is, watch out. Because every woman's got a box-and if that's all he wants, he can find it anywhere."
"I'm afraid we've reached that point," the girl said grimly. "I'm scared, Mary."
"You should be. Ah-what do you talk about when you're making love?"
"Talk about? I don't recall-"
"Sure, talk. Does he tell you what a hell of a piece of ass you are, for instance?"
"Oh, Mary."
"Yeah. And-he puts it in, I think you said."
"Well, of course he does."
"Oh, Jesus. Honey, we've got a hell of a lot of ground to cover, and I don't see how we're going to do it in one day. That big stud of mine will be home soon, and I've got a feeling he's going to have his work cut out for him."
The big woman stared at her companion, the green eyes narrowed in speculation. "I wonder," she said slowly, then didn't finish the thought-but Jonni saw the color in her cheeks again and was puzzled by it.
Mary swept the long softly waving hair back with a gesture that set her breasts to jiggling. "You know honey," she said gently, "there are no rules in making love. The only real perversion between a man and a woman is self-imposed restraint. What usually happens is that each partner is afraid he'll shock the other, or even worse-meet with a rebuff. And that's always a possibility. But if you're teamed up with a psychological cripple, you'd better find out about it now. I'd rather be dead than look back on twenty years of making love according to Hoyle. You've just got to gamble, honey. Either that, or be satisfied with a very drab existence. And don't forget: you'll be a long time dead."
"I just... I'm so afraid I'll mess it up. He'll think I'm crude, or coarse, or-or out of my mind."
"Do you think I'm coarse, honey?"
"Certainly not!"
"Neither does my big stud. There's a world of difference between coarseness and honesty. I think you're in for a big surprise, Jonni."
"I hope so, Mary. I certainly hope so."
"You can run this kind of thing into the ground, so be careful. There's such a thing as overexposure. And the timing is important."
"Yes, but... The truth is that I'm scared, Mary."
"Sure you are. But that's all right. Nothing that's commonplace is worth a damn. You've got one big thing going for you, baby; you're a long way from being commonplace. With that shape, and that little-girl face... Honey, you've got nothing to worry about."
"If I only-had more experience, or really knew what I was doing."
"There's a way around that, too."
Mary watched her thoughtfully while she lighted a cigarette. She dragged deep, exhaled the gray-blue smoke toward the ceiling-and appeared to reach some sort of decision. When she spoke her voice had changed, and Jonni realized she was deadly serious.
"We need some insurance, honey. I can't risk making a bad situation worse, and I'd hate to have you kids on my conscience. So I'll tell you what we're going to do. We're going to hide you in my closet, and when that big stud of mine comes home-"
"Oh, Mary!"
"Just listen. It's a walk-in closet, and there'll be plenty of room. And it's opposite my bed, so you'll have a good view of-what's going on."
"I-I can't let you do this, Mary. It isn't right!"
"You want to save your big romance, don't you?"
"Yes... Yes, of course I do."
"Then who gives a damn about 'right'? Besides, I think I'll get an extra charge out of it." Her smile was so disarming that the girl smiled in response.
"I-I suppose I will too."
"That's fine, doll-face. Maybe you'll learn a lot about yourself before the day's over. But that's not the point, is it. Let's not lose sight of the fact that this is strictly educational. Keep your eyes open, remember everything you see... And keep in mind that my big stud and I have been at this quite a while. We know each other very well. And you might be wise to just file a lot of it away for future reference.
"I'll remember." The girl's eyes were bright with excitement now, and Mary thought the perfectly formed lips were a little fuller. Her own smile widened.
"All right, then. Let's go into the bedroom and set the stage. We'll make sure you'll be comfortable in the closet, and-"
"Today? You mean-today?"
"Hell yes, today. From what you tell me, there's no time to waste. And besides, today I'm in the mood for it. Tomorrow? Well, who knows."
"If you're-perfectly sure... "
"I'm sure. Come on, baby. We haven't got much time, so you'd better go move your car. He's sharp, and he'd recognize it sitting out there in front of the house. We'll get you set up in your hiding place, and then I've got to take a shower and make myself seductive. And you know something, Jonni?"
"No, what?"
"I feel seductive as hell already."
CHAPTER THREE
"THAT'S HIS CAR in the driveway." Mary spoke calmly enough, but the green eyes were dancing with anticipation. "I'll leave the door ajar. You just stay back in the shadows. And after awhile you can push it open a little further. By that time I'll have him pretty well occupied."
The woman crossed the room and stood at the head of her bed. She listened for a moment, flashed a quick grin toward the closet, and tossed the negligee into a corner. The she carefully arranged her big beautiful self on the unmade bed.
"That should do it," she muttered huskily. "When that big stud comes through the door... "
"Ah-won't he know you're not actually asleep?"
"Probably. But he'd rather believe I'm putting on a show for him anyway. It's all part of the game. Be quiet now, honey. He's coming up the walk. And if this doesn't get to him... "
It certainly should, Jonni told herself earnestly. Her eyes swept over that full-bodied loveliness and she felt her belly tighten. Mary lay at an angle, with her hearty ass on the very edge of the bed. The long right leg extended outward, the knee slightly bent, and the ball of her high-arched foot rested on the carpet. The left leg had been drawn up and flung aside, so that the full thigh was at right angles to her body. The bent left knee rested on the rumpled bedclothes. And Jonni's eyes went to the inside of that artfully arranged thigh, to the heavy tendon made prominent by its position, to the hand that lay there-and on to the fleshy long-lipped pussy.
Jonni examined it with fascinated care. Diffused sunlight streamed in through the open French windows, bathing its thrusting arrogance in golden warmth. Jonni's view was unobstructed-and she saw that anyone entering the room would have an even better advantage. The rounded folds of the long hair-shrouded lips were turned outward slightly, pulled open by the widely separated thighs-and between them the soft pink flesh protruded, boldly inviting, gleaming wetly in the yellow light.
The long-fingered hand moved, ruffling the thick brush of auburn hair until it stood well above the arching pubis. The hand moved upward to tug the pink nipples into erection. And then it returned to the hollow between cunt and thigh.
"Get set," she whispered hoarsely, and Jonni heard the sound of a door opening. A deep voice called Mary's name, footsteps sounded in the hall-and Jonni's heart pounded wildly when she heard the whisper of a shoe along the carpet. She fixed her eyes on Mary's breasts, saw them rising and falling with the turbulence of the woman's breathing.
"My, my," the deep voice murmured, so close that the hidden girl started. She knew he was standing at the door, knew he was devouring the woman with his eyes -and then a movement drew her attention to Mary's hand.
The tips of three fingers lay on the open pussy. They moved, lightly stroking, and Mary's hips squirmed voluptuously. The hand curled; the first and third fingers slid into the deep creases on either side of the thrusting pinkness-while the second finger languorously teased that tender softness.
She writhed slowly, and a heavy smile curved her mouth. Her lips parted, even as her fingers parted those other lips, and she sighed as most of the middle one slid out of sight. The thighs quivered. The hand moved upward, drawing the caressing fingers into view again, and Jonni saw that they gleamed with juice.
"Mayo," the woman mumbled sleepily. "Mayo, darling... " And Jonni grinned in spite of her intense excitement. It was a point to remember, this keeping the record straight.
The fingers dipped again. The big rounded hips responded, and Jonni instinctively knew she was titillating her clitoris. Jonni's breath came rapidly now. Her palms were moist; her breasts ached and the insides of her thighs felt so hot that she carefully separated them. She put her hands to her cheeks, expecting to find them blazing-and was mildly surprised when they proved to be relatively normal. Mary's right hand was cupping a big vibrant breast; the hips were moving a little faster, and the long muscles of her thighs were jerking. Jonni heard the rustle of clothing-a shoe hit the floor.
The man's bulk moved into her field of vision. Jonni saw with an unexpectedly violent shock that he was naked. And then she gasped, her incredulous eyes fixed on his rigid cock. The thing was enormous, she thought numbly. It was unbelievable. Angled slightly upward, it went well in advance of its muscular owner as he approached the bed. He stood watching the woman for long moments while the head of his cock swelled to monstrous proportions. And Mary was providing him with quite a performance. Two of her fingers were hurried now. The tip of her right breast was caught between the thumb and forefinger of the other hand. Her head was tipped back, revealing the long clean line of her throat; the big lovely body was quivering.
And the man knelt beside the bed. Big gentle fingers removed the woman's hand, exposing the well-ripened cunt. He leaned forward, bowing his head-and Jonni sank to her knees as he kissed the swollen lips. She'd heard of such things, of course; she'd even imagined it happening to her-but the actuality was overwhelming. She'd never seen a naked couple before, had never seen another pussy in full bloom. Yet here before her eyes was a man kissing his woman's cunt, caressing the full length of it with his tongue, spearing her with it, sucking the soft flesh into his mouth.
Mary moaned. Her back bent, tilting the undulating hips upward. The muscles squirmed in her thighs and belly. Each swelling breast had a hand to comfort it; her fingers teased the erect nipples and prominent aureoles. And still the man persisted. Voracious noises reached into Jonni's hiding place, and she was acutely conscious of the heat between her own trembling thighs. Mary's hips were churning now. Her hips were off the bed, her thighs were straining-and Jonni found a hand between her own thighs, clenching over the moistened nylon, then sliding down her flat belly- over the heavy mat of hair-to grasp the slippery heated flesh.
Incoherent sounds came from Mary's throat. Her head rolled from side to side, the tips of her breasts were dark and swollen.
"Soon," she whimpered. "I'm-going to come. Soon, soon, soon... "
She lifted widespread thighs over her body, pulling her ass high, and the man moved after her. His jaws were straining. Clearly his mouth was full of pussy- and his head was moving, moving.
And Mary groaned, a sound that she dragged up out of her vitals. Her hips shook, the big breasts jumped as her hands abandoned them to seek the insides of her thighs, and a savage growl of ecstasy escaped her.
"Oh-God-now... " And she was snarling through her teeth, the animal sounds continuing until they ended in a long shuddering sigh.
Then the man was on her. He slid his hands under her rump, swung her to the middle of the bed, and knelt between her jerking thighs. Her legs came up again, embracing him; she crossed her ankles between his shoulders. And her ass rose higher as he leaned forward on braced arms. The big hearty cunt was completely revealed, and Jonni understood that the position was for her benefit. She would witness his entry, see every detail as he plunged the fearsome prick into that eager body, observe the big woman's technique as she brought her big stud to orgasm.
Jonni clenched her hand until the pain cleared her head. She must calm herself, she thought desperately. She had nearly fainted when Mary came, had felt her head reel again when the big woman seized that massive cock and began stroking the distended lips of her cunt with its swollen head. Now Mary was wedging it into the wet pink flesh, moving the huge shaft into position. The other hand offered assistance, rolling the soft lips back to either side, urging that flanged head to approach the entrance. The muscles of her thighs rippled, the man's hips moved forward. And slowly, slowly, the head sank out of sight.
"Oh baby," Mary moaned, and the sound of her rapture was very like a sob of agony. "Oh, darling."
The pink lips had been driven inward by the merciless prick and now she freed them again, peeling them back, moving the turgid shaft with her right hand-and again his back bowed, again the lean hips surged gently, and once more the lips of that straining cunt were folded inward. But this time a good two inches of thick stalk had entered her. He withdrew half of it, advanced again, and Jonni caught her breath as more of the rigid shaft slid into the shuddering body.
It was-incredible. She seemed to experience no pain, no discomfort; the rich throaty laughter attested to her eager anticipation of the next stroke. And when it came her ass surged to meet it; she uttered a choked gasping moan of pleasure-and now half of his cock was buried in her soft flesh.
"God damn, you're good," he growled. "And you get better every time. So hot and strong. And-so fucking good."
He slowly eased it out of her, an inch at a time until only the head remained within her. The stretched lips clung to the broad shaft, coating it with their rich juice. And now he returned it to her, driving it deep, thrusting at her with short measured strokes until she had it all and his hips were against her shuddering ass.
Where had it all gone? Jonni wondered. That thing had looked horrible, plunging into her friend's body, stretching her, probing into her vitals-but she was laughing again; her legs were sliding downward to hook themselves over his upper arms, her hands curling over his shoulders.
"Fuck me," she said clearly. "Take it slow and easy -until I come. And then I'm going to take you apart."
He drew it out slowly, returning it with no break in his movement. And Jonni saw his back curling as the shaft sank deep, knew instinctively that he was driving it over the woman's cervix.
"Let me-get my legs around you," Mary panted. "Let me hold you. I want to love you, baby. Oh God! I want to love you!"
He lifted one arm at a time, freeing her legs, and she curled them around his body. His stroke was shorter now, and considerably faster. His back straightened as he withdrew, forcing the broad shaft against her clitoris, and Jonni thrust her middle finger into her own pussy, probed for her own clitoris, found it.
Ah, that was better. Oh, that was good. She was so -gooey, as much as if she were out there on the bed with that huge cock splitting her. She was going to have to sit down. Ah God, she'd shoved the door open with her foot-but apparently no one was going to notice. Not now. And no wonder! Just look at them! They were beautiful, both of them. Splendid abandoned bodies, moving in perfect coordination, remaining close together now, close, close!
And what a movement that was! Mary's hips surged and writhed, driving upward through his stroke a half-heartbeat before it struck home, sending her cunt squirming along his belly. And then thrusting it after him, catching up with him in the middle of his withdrawal. Straightening her back as he retreated, forcing her clitoris hard against the sliding shaft, lowering her ass in preparation for the next engagement.
Mary's hips churned desperately. Her legs rode up and down his back; her ass gyrated frantically, grinding against his hips and thighs-the white teeth gleamed between her darkened lips.
Two of Jonni's fingers were hooked into her cunt now, and her hand moved steadily. She'd been so fascinated by the pair on the bed. And now it was too late to share their ecstasy. But no, they were still at it, weren't they? Surely those weren't the movements of lovers basking in the afterglow. Mary's legs were curled over his. Her hands were on his back; he had lowered himself to his elbows and their bodies were close together. But oh God, they were-fucking up a storm.
Mary came again, more violently this time, and then their struggle became almost savage in its wild intensity. He drove into her with long brutal strokes, and a wet sucking sound accompanied each plunging thrust. The imprints of her teeth were on his arms and shoulders, his big left hand gripped a cheek of her jerking ass, and her heavy breasts jumped and shook.
The stroke shortened. Both were growling now; the bed creaked and groaned, slime-covered flesh slithered and sucked wetly.
"Come on!" she snarled. "Let me have it this time! Pump it into me, lover!"
"I'm-goin' to. Soon, baby, soon."
"Come on, big stud. Shoot it into me. Hurry, darling. Come with me!"
"Soon, soon."
"Oh baby, baby... Hurry, hurry! I'm-so close!"
"Mary? Baby?"
"Oh, yes! All of it, darling! Fill me, fill me!"
Jonni heard her own breath sobbing in her throat. She supported herself on her left arm while the right hand rocked back and forth, the hooked fingers digging deep into her cunt. She drew up her knees, her spread thighs jerking as she watched the convulsed pair on the bed.
"Ah-h-h, Mary. Oh Jesus baby-now!"
"Yes, yes, yes!"
They grunted and snarled at each other, the battle continuing for an incredible length of time while their mutual orgasm tore at them. But Jonni was only dimly aware of it. She was on her back, thighs flailing while the rapturous lightning played along her body, and she surrendered herself to the blessed release of her own orgasm.
Her hand finally stilled. She'd never come harder, she thought dazedly. Not even with Jim, in his more passionate moments. It had been a wonderfully stirring experience. And now the warm comfortable lassitude was creeping along her thighs and back and belly. Her legs felt heavy, her lips were swollen to the point of numbness. But she was alone. Alone, and-and cheated somehow, and nothing so sweet should be enjoyed alone.
"You're in a hell of a hurry," the man said indulgently.
"Yeah, I am." Mary's voice was complacent. "Put your cigarette out and take your shower. I've got plans for you, baby."
"That sounds interesting."
"It will be. Educational, too."
"Oh?"
"Yeah, oh. Now get with it, tiger. No, you go by yourself. I'll take my shower when you're finished. And you can fix us a drink while you're waiting for me."
"Fair enough," he said reasonably, and Jonni focused her dazed eyes in time to see him rise from the bed. The immense cock was limp now. She saw traces of slime gleaming on its curving length and on his corded belly-and then he was gone, and she heard him padding out of the room.
Mary stretched herself full-length on the bed, smoking quietly until the sound of the shower came to them.
"Well?" she said calmly, and blew a cloud of smoke toward the ceiling. "What do you think-so far?"
Jonni found her voice with difficulty. "So-far?"
"Sure, honey. We're just getting started."
"But he... I mean-won't it be a while before he can?"
Mary laughed. "Before he can raise another hard-on? Baby, when you want to play you don't wait. You -uh-take matters into your own hands."
She turned her body, careful to keep the full-fleshed thighs pressed tightly together, and took a small towel from under her pillow. Lifting one beautiful leg, she stuffed the towel in between her thighs. Then she propped herself on an elbow.
"Are you all right, Jonni?" she asked gently.
"Yes. Yes, I'm-fine."
"Want to go on with this?"
"Oh, yes! I mean-certainly, I do."
"Good." Mary adjusted the towel. "That big stud sure dumps a hell of a load into me, bless his heart."
"I-I can smell it from here. Are you sure you don't mind-me being here?"
"Mind? Hell no. It's sort of strange, really. But I'm having a ball. Besides, it's all part of the educational process. I was just wondering how he'd feel if he knew. I'll bet if you'd walked out and patted him on the ass he wouldn't have missed a stroke. He's some kind of machine, isn't he?"
"He's-he's beautiful, Mary."
"That's what he is, baby. Ever see a cock like that in all your life?"
"I didn't even think they got that big."
Mary grinned. "Neither did I, doll-face. It took me quite a while to get used to it. You might have noticed that we still have to take it easy-just at first. Even when I'm as well primed as I was."
She paused, and Jonni could see the rosy color in her cheeks. "I didn't really expect that," she went on slowly. "He sort of-double-crossed me. God, that sends me out of sight."
"You-you had an orgasm while he was-ah."
"While he was eating me? Damn right, I did. Watch it, honey. He's turning off the water. Make yourself comfortable, and I'll show you how to-expedite the natural process."
She got off the bed with a lithe movement of her big shapely body, and passed from Jonni's field of view. Jonni heard the sound of a hand striking firm bare flesh, heard Mary's indignant exclamation and the man's rumbling laughter. A minute or so later she heard the tinkle of ice, and the man's wide-shouldered frame loomed into view. He set two glasses on the nightstand, lit a cigarette, and stretched himself on the bed. And Jonni watched him avidly, surprised at her own enjoyment.
He was perhaps four inches taller than Jim's six feet, and proportionately bigger in all respects. All respects, Jonni reflected gratefully. Jim was all she could handle, and all she really wanted. It was exciting to see this man's prodigious prick in full erection, and-even to contemplate the possibility of accommodating it. But Jim was really all she wanted.
This man had to be some kind of freak, she decided. Jim's cock was a proud thing in its own right. She'd measured it one night when they were both in a frivolous mood and found that it was more than seven inches from base to tip. She knew that was an unusually large prick-despite the wild stories she'd heard to the contrary-and enough for any woman. It had caused her a lot of pain lately when he took her after only a token effort at preparation. And it took him so long to reach a conclusion. But it had been wonderful when they first fell in love.
Suddenly Mary was back in the room, sitting on the edge of the bed, holding a glass in her left hand. He handed her a lighted cigarette and they talked in low murmurs, smoking and sipping at their drinks until the glasses were empty. He took her cigarette then, stubbed it out, and pulled her backward until she lay against his chest. The big hands fondled her breasts, and her own hands came up to press them to her. The nipples rose and darkened; her feet whispered over the thick carpet -and once more Jonni found herself staring at the big thick-lipped cunt.
She was viewing it squarely now, and she marveled at its composed appearance of normalcy. She would never have guessed that it had so recently been subjected to such brutal treatment. The thrusting inner lips were closed, their pinkness dulled by a light application of powder, but the parted labia majora revealed them in their entirety. Jonni's eyes followed them upward, up to where the twin slashes of the outer lips bracketed the fleshy mound over her clitoris. She could discern the line of demarcation between those pouting inner lips, and she noticed with a start that they seemed to be swelling. The smoothly muscled thighs were moving, there was a faint gleam of moisture in that deepening crack.
"Baby, baby," Mary murmured. "You-don't have to be gentle with me."
Her fingers captured his, led them to her nipples, pressed the hardened flesh between her fingertips and his-and then his fingers were gone, caressing the smooth curving white flesh while she entertained them both with her manipulations of the taut nipples. Entertained all three of them, Jonni conceded, aware that her cheeks were growing hot again.
The woman turned so that her hips were near his head, and a lush breast lay on his muscular belly. Long slim fingers curled under his balls, lifted them, cradled them tenderly.
"Aren't you-interested, baby?" she asked huskily.
"Jesus Christ, woman. Hell yes. I'm interested. But you just hauled me over the coals, remember?"
She laughed softly, fingertips fluttering at the head of his cock. "Did I, darling? Was it good, baby?"
He appeared to give it some thought while his big right hand caressed the smooth whiteness of her ass. "Not bad," he said judiciously. "Not bad at all-for a Saturday morning."
"Not bad, huh? And it's not morning anymore, wise one. Hm-m-m-m. We seem to be getting some results. Not good, maybe. But encouraging."
His cock had risen until it stood clear of his body. It looked tremendous, even in its semi-erect condition, and Jonni caught her breath when the long white fingers caressed it. It was unbelievably thick at the base; no wonder Mary had glued her cunt to the big man's body, jerking madly while the ecstatic snarls rasped in her throat.
"I don't know," Mary said doubtfully. She shook her head, and the thick auburn hair brushed his hip. Her hand pumped gently at the arching stalk. "This may call for drastic measures."
"More'n likely," he agreed huskily.
"Let's see what happens." Mary's hand urged the huge cock upward, her head dipped-and the soft full lips brushed across its tip. They repeated the caress- slightly parted this time-and the thick shaft jerked spasmodically.
"Jesus," he muttered, his fingers sinking into the firmness of her ass. "Jesus, baby."
Her open mouth moved up the far side of his cock, and Jonni saw that the shaft had straightened remarkably. It was a slow lingering caress. And now the parted lips hovered over the head, a pink tongue flickered, his hips jerked-and she laughed softly deep in her throat. Her fingers tightened on the turgid shaft.
"Not bad," she commented, mimicking his rumbling tones. "Not bad at all-for a Saturday afternoon. But it could be a whole lot better."
Her mouth opened wide, descended slowly-and somehow the entire head passed between her lips. The auburn hair swirled gently, an incredible two inches of broad thick shaft followed the head into that hungry mouth-and Jonni thought she was going to faint. The auburn head rose and fell. The sounds of the man's tortured panting filled the room, and almost half of that tremendous shaft glistened with saliva.
Her hand clutched his balls. She squeezed them gently and uttered a strangled growl that he seemed to understand.
"No, baby," he wheezed desperately. "Not-now. Oh God sweetheart. Not-this time. I want you... "
She tugged at his balls, not so gently this time, and he laughed hoarsely.
"All right," he gasped. "So I-want to fuck you. I want to shove my cock-into that sweet cunt. And fuck the livin' shit out of you. Oh Jesus. Take it- easy."
Her swollen lips had risen until only the head was in her mouth. Jonni saw her cheeks hollow; the sounds came to her with almost painful clarity as Mary sucked him hungrily-and then his cock was free, she was crawling over him, straddling him, standing on her knees while she forced the broad head into her flaring cunt, moving forward as her writhing hips drove at it, sliding the awesome thing into her body.
It was so big, Jonni thought wildly, and her right hand was busy again. Not only was it terribly long. But its girth was monstrous, especially down there near its base. And Mary was plastering her cunt against him once more, her hips going crazy. And no wonder she was coming so soon, throwing her head back with that full-throated scream of triumph.
But what was she doing now? She was dismounting. Jonni watched the slimy stalk pulling out of her. And now she was crouching beside him on knees and elbows, shaking her lovely ass.
"Come on," she was growling. "Come on, big stud. Come and fuck your baby."
And he was rising to his knees, moving in behind her, guiding his cock to that inflamed cunt. He was pushing it into her, big hands braced at either side of her, working his prick into that undulating body. He was taking her from behind, plunging his cock into her with long piston-like strokes, slamming his hips against her frenzied ass, faster and faster until he was jerking it into her at an incredible rate of speed, snarling like an animal.
Her hips danced madly, and the big firm breasts bobbed and swayed in a dance of their own. The wet greasy sounds of his driving cock came incessantly now, punctuated by the rapid slap of his hips against her ass-and by the gasping moans he was forcing out of her. She began to laugh, a hysterical joyous sound. And she was moaning through her clenched teeth, her ass going berserk-and Jonni's fingers were hooked into the loosened entrance, sliding in the thick slime, riding over her clitoris and Mary was coming and so was she.
They lay on their sides, bodies surging voluptuously, and Mary's legs were around the man's body. They'd made the change without uncoupling. She was staring at Mary's generous ass now, and she could see the massive prick moving easily in the slackened cunt. Slime shone wetly on the cheeks of Mary's ass, on the big man's ponderous balls and on the shaft of his cock -and the hearty pussy emitted a lusty squishing noise each time he drove it into her.
"I can feel it, baby," he told her hoarsely. "It won't be much longer, sweetheart."
"Then-get up where you belong," she whispered. "I want you riding up there in the saddle. Fuck me-the way a man should fuck his woman."
She turned with him, setting her feet solidly on the rumpled bed, and her hips lunged upward to meet his slow cock-length stroke. She held him there for a long moment, her hips writhing sensuously.
"Don't take it away from me," she pleaded urgently, her arms tightening around him. "Stay close. Hold it right there, lover-and let me make you come."
CHAPTER FOUR
THEY WERE BOTH asleep when Jonni left. She crept out of the closet, spike-heeled shoes in her left hand and a feeling of contented lassitude in her legs and belly. Light-headed and dizzy, she stood for a moment while her thoughts cleared. And found herself gazing down at the sleeping pair. Mary lay on her back, and even in sleep her face wore a heavy smile of satisfaction. She'd stuffed another towel against her pussy. But now the wide-flung thighs had released it, and Jonni watched a gout of thick milky fluid ooze out of her, cling for an instant to the slackened lips, then begin its slow journey to the crack of her ass.
He lay on his side, a heavy arm across her belly. Jonni's eyes considered him, the big powerful body, the clean muscular shape of him, and despite her effort to suppress it she felt a warm flood of desire sweeping over her. It was understandable, she reasoned. After all, she'd seen him in action, had seen what he could do to a woman. And she should welcome it, really. Because she'd been a little disturbed at her own reaction to Mary's earthy loveliness.
The smells of their union came to her, sharp and pungent. She breathed deeply; desire became a hot insistent force, and she caught herself staring at the big man's cock and balls. It would be so good to fondle him, to cradle that hairy wrinkled sack in her hands-feel the egg-shaped testicles skidding between her fingers as she kneaded them. Very gently, of course. How thrilling it would be to touch his cock, to run her hands over it, bring it to life-to see her slim brown fingers curving around that reawakened symbol of manhood, trying to encircle it.
Hesitantly, she put out a hand. Her heart pounded wildly, she leaned forward-and at that moment he sighed heavily and rolled onto his back. But his eyes remained closed, and she released a heartfelt sigh of relief. She was just excited, she decided. And it was time she was leaving. She paused in the doorway, looked back at them with an odd sense of regret, and walked through the house to the front door.
The brilliant sunshine was almost a shock to her. Somehow she wasn't conditioned to-to such things occurring during daylight. There had been indirect sunlight in the room, of course, but Mary's hearty appetites had made it seem consistent. It was her own passion that was unusual, she realized. And it was still strong in her, still vital, even after-what she had done to herself in the closet.
A passing car slowed; the driver stared at her, frank admiration in his face-but she didn't notice. Deep in thought, confused by the turmoil inside her, she walked around the corner to her convertible.
The drive home was a series of instinctive reactions featuring unreality. She stopped automatically at a red light, went through two green ones without conscious thought, and when a trio of sailors yelled at her from a street corner she didn't even turn her head. At first her mind was full of what she had witnessed from the closet. She relived certain portions of it; in her mind's eye she could see the convulsed bodies, the entwined legs and writhing hips. She could hear them panting, see Mary's glaring eyes and contorted face as she neared a climax.
But the scenes faded, and she considered her own immediate future. She hadn't confided in Mary completely, but how did one woman tell another that the man she lived with instilled a feeling of inferiority in her, that he was impatient because of her lack of dedication to the things that were important to him-that he even patronized her on occasion. And had once told her bluntly that she had a childlike mentality.
The funny thing about it was that she had a good mind. Her grades at UCLA said it was excellent, in fact. But she had no talent for brooding over things she couldn't control; she valued every moment of every day, but she had no desire to shape other people's lives or to become involved in them. Unless they touched her on a very intimate plane.
He swore that she lived only for today, but that wasn't really true. She did have thought for tomorrow, a great deal of it in fact. The truth was that she believed there were so many tomorrows, there just wasn't time to be concerned with yesterday. That if she could guide her own destiny with any degree of firmness she'd have her hands full-and the rest of the world would have to shift for itself.
She didn't delude herself that she was qualified to mold society, and would deeply resent its attempt to mold her. Yet she wasn't a loner. Far from it. Like any normal twenty-four-year-old Californian, she required companionship. But it didn't take a crowd to make her happy, and she didn't try to analyze the conduct of her friends. She had strong feelings regarding her own happiness and her own future, and didn't consider it at all selfish that the major part of humanity was going to have to make its own way without her assistance. It was true that she found pleasure and amusement in simple things, but did that mean she was a simple person? And if it did, was that bad?
The trouble was that Jim didn't understand her at all. That wasn't so terrible, but she doubted that he really tried to. Their only real meeting ground was on the big bed in her room, and now that too had gone flat. Perhaps if she could restore that, if she could bring back the fire and passion they'd shared... Only four months ago...
Her mind moved ahead to the coming evening. Her sense of loss at leaving the sleeping couple behind her had evaporated, and was replaced now by speculation. Would an uninhibited display of her body affect Jim as it had Mary's big stud? Would he react the same way? And she, how would she react if he did? She suddenly recalled the big man's initial response to Mary's unspoken invitation. A quick warmth stole up her legs and belly; her cheeks grew hot-and she knew damn well how it would be with her. Not that it had ever happened, of course. But if it did...
Speculation became anticipation. She'd do it! Until now she'd only considered the possibility, and then only as a means of preserving their love, or whatever it was they'd found together. But now something else had been added, an aura of high adventure, of stimulation and supreme eroticism-a powerful desire to experience the things she'd seen and to find out if she were capable of the response she'd observed in Mary.
Anticipation gave way to excitement. It was pure sexual excitement, she conceded, and why not? If others could wring such obvious pleasure from their bodies, then why couldn't she? And Jim, of course. Otherwise it would be no different from hooking her own fingers into her vulva and-what had Mary called it?- frigging herself.
She had plenty of time to set the stage. Jim wouldn't get home for several hours. And when he did... Well, she had a big surprise in store for him. And a big evening. She hoped he wouldn't be too tired.
But what about herself? Shouldn't she rest, or something? She felt wonderful, glorious in fact, but wouldn't the let-down come later? After all, she'd just experienced three orgasms. More than on any previous day in her whole life. Her face grew hot again at the recollection. She supposed she should be ashamed. But it had been-memorable, to say the least. Such sweet exquisite torture, and then release, more powerful than anything she'd ever known. Even with Jim. But with this new outlook on life, who could tell what soul-searing pleasures were in store for her?
And for Jim.
She raised her head and discovered that the convertible was in its own carport. Laughing unsteadily, she got out of the car and slammed the door. The solid familiar sound brought her part-way back to reality, and she hurried up the stairs with her heart racing in her chest.
Inside, she quickly opened all the windows. It was a warm day and she wanted air, all her lungs could hold, and she needed the illusion of space that open windows provided. She should straighten the place up. Not that there was any disorder, really, but it seemed that an occasion like this called for some special preparations. And she should prepare herself, surely.
Unbidden, the picture of Mary waiting for her big stud returned to her. Deliberately she lingered over it, remembering every detail of Mary's position-and savoring it. But for herself? To reveal herself so completely? Could she do it? Really do it? Hell yes, she could, and she would, too! No use being-half-assed about it. What was good enough for Mary was good enough for her. And it had been very effective, hadn't it.
But she should probably eat something. Excitement had killed her usually hearty appetite, but she ate anyway. It would be tragic to be found wanting in anything when the time came. And she must bathe, and try to get some rest.
Jonni stripped off her clothes, and, almost grimly, stepped in front of the full-length mirror in her bedroom. Let's evaluate the assets, she told herself. And let's be objective about it. Because Jim isn't like the types that come to see you dance. But the hair was screening her breasts. No waves like Mary's, damn it. Just long, straight, coal-black hair. She swept the gleaming mass back over her shoulders and took a good look at herself.
The breasts she'd revealed were good, she conceded. No, face it-they were excellent. This was no time for false modesty. They grew high and well separated on a deep swimmer's chest, and while they hadn't nearly the bulk of Mary's, they were much shapelier from an esthetic point of view. They were younger, of course; their lower curves swept out and up, with no hidden crease between breast and ribs-and their tips flowed out of the golden flesh to culminate in tiny nipples.
They were deceptive, she noted, because viewed in profile-and she turned slightly-they lost their girlish appearance and became the haughty upswept badges of very well-conditioned-and very fortunate-young womanhood. The aureoles were small and dark and elevated concentrically, so that in repose the nipples seemed the apexes of the aureoles themselves. She knew they were unusual breasts, and regarded them correctly as a valuable asset.
Her hips were curved with a pleasing feminine roundness, but beneath the broad shoulders and strong arms they looked almost boyish, except for the narrow waist. At the sides her belly tucked inward below the well-arched rib cage, and the slim lines continued until they flowed outward again over the bones of her pelvis. But down the center were two easily discernible columns of muscle that gradually flattened and converged until they vanished under the luxuriant growth of her black pubic hair.
The navel was deep, surrounded as it was by smooth muscle, and beneath it was the merest suggestion of woman's softness. But even this faintly swelling prominence was divided into the columns of abdominal muscle, and in the shallow depression thus created an arrow of black down pointed to her navel. Jim said he liked it, but she'd seen nothing but hairless bellies on other bikini-clad dolls, and she'd always shaved it during previous summers. And she'd shave it this afternoon, she decided firmly.
Her legs were perfect, and she was well aware of it. Long and straight, with beautifully tapered thighs and strong well-shaped calves, they had the long smooth musculature that characterized the rest of her body. The arched feet were relatively small, but weren't as aristocratically narrow as her mother's had been. Perhaps she'd inherited them from her father, along with the capable hands and the strong broad-shouldered torso. Not bad, she conceded.
Her rump. Well, she didn't even have to look at her rump. Jim, with his artist's eyes, claimed it was the loveliest ass in Southern California. And Jim should know. But there were problems. She thought she was too sturdy, for one thing. She was a well-distributed thirty-seven, twenty-four, thirty-five. But on a frame that was only five feet four inches tall, that wasn't so good. Not today, when women were supposed to look as though they hadn't eaten a decent meal in months.
But the real drawback was her face. She knew it was cute, with its upturned nose and wide full-lipped mouth. She'd always been considered cute. But she wasn't beautiful, not in the esthetic patrician manner that Jim seemed to admire. Why had he picked her, anyway? Was it for the novelty of the thing-to display his rebellion against convention? She shrugged her shoulders and examined the offending face with distaste.
The thick mass of black hair framed a broad low forehead; high, almost heavy cheekbones-with faint hollows beneath them-and the unexpectedly sensual mouth. The chin was determined rather than heavy, the jaw clean and well-defined, and the column of her neck was in keeping with her strong body. Her eyes were set far apart, slanted by the high cheekbones, and glittered darkly from the mirror. The lashes were so long and thick that everyone but Jim believed them false. But if only the eyes didn't slant so, if only the nose were a little longer, and if only that mouth were a trifle more refined.
But it wasn't too bad as faces go, she thought philosophically. Anyway, she was stuck with it. Did Jim really think she was beautiful? He said he did. But did he really think so? Her eyes dropped to her reflected breasts. How had Mary done the breast bit? She put her hands like this, with the fingers spread. Could she really do this with Jim watching her?
She pasted on a sultry smile and stared at her reflection with heavy-lidded eyes. She watched the mirrored hands caress her breasts, saw the fingers converge at the tips-and noted with vague surprise that the nipples had risen. She stroked them, imagining that Jim was there beyond the mirror, and found that her legs were trembling. Oh, it would be good, so good. If only she were sure of him-and of herself. If only he weren't such a stiff-necked schnook.
Because facts were facts. Jim was definitely something of a schnook. Well, tonight she was going to un-schnook him. She giggled at the thought, and the sound was full of excitement. The hands left her breasts-rising and trembling now with her accelerated breathing -and moved on down her body. They felt warm on her belly. The skin of her ass was smooth and soft and sleek. The insides of her thighs were like satin. Oh God damn him! Why did he have to be such a schnook!
I've got to stop this, she told herself. I must be some kind of a nut, staring at myself in the mirror and getting all steamed up. And I've still got to take a shower, and-get things ready in the bedroom. And I really should get some rest. Her hands gripped the cheeks of her ass; the trim hips squirmed suggestively, and she watched the play of long smooth muscles in the golden-skinned reflection. That broad black triangle jerked at her from the mirror, and for the first time she was glad of its bold prominence.
He should be mad about me, she assured herself fiercely. I should be able to make him drool with a little of this action. See, if I spread my thighs and-tip my hips a little. My God, do you suppose I look like that -all the time?
She turned slowly, set her feet well apart, and leaned forward from the waist. The long black hair swept the carpet; she stared between the trembling thighs at her reflected image and after a while she noticed that her cheeks had turned a dusky rose. I could do my exercises like this, she mused. You know; naked, and-sort of unconcerned. That would give him something to think about. Only-the condition of that thing would be a dead give-away.
She straightened, gazing at her bed with unseeing eyes. What's the matter with me, she wondered. I've never been-like this-before. I don't think I've ever been like this. I'm so... I'm hot, that's what I am. Like a bitch in heat. And that-that schnook had better do something about it!
She walked unsteadily into the bathroom. The proud tip-tilted breasts confronted her in the bathroom mirror, and she resolutely looked away. She decided against washing her hair. He used to like it. Sometimes it was a nuisance, though. He'd lie on it during the night, waking her and making it impossible to turn over. But he liked seeing it loose and free and shining black against the sheets. At least he used to like it.
She twisted it into a thick rope, wound it around her head, and hid it under a plastic bathing cap. The shower stall was stifling to her at first. She hated any kind of confinement, wouldn't use a phone booth unless she absolutely had to, and then she always left the door open. But the needles of water felt good against her skin. She bathed quickly, trying not to think while her hands moved over the sleek body, and then stood for long minutes while the stinging spray washed away the soap and much of her tension.
But eventually those needles began to irritate her. She reached up to the shower head, adjusted the spray to a gentle cascade of warm caressing water, and finally to a single column that struck between her breasts. She moved her shoulders, and the curving wand of water was falling on the tip of her left breast. The broad golden shoulders moved again, and now both nipples were arrogantly erect. She backed away, turned without thinking, and took the same bent position she'd assumed in front of the mirror. She moved the beautiful ass, and her thighs quivered when the stream of water caressed her. Her hips writhed. And then she straightened, whirling almost angrily to secure the water-and in moments she was vigorously toweling herself.
Watching Mary and her big stud had been a wonderfully thrilling experience-but nothing like that must ever happen again. It was too-unsettling. She just wasn't herself. Or perhaps-for the first time-she really was herself. It was very confusing. If only he would understand. If only he would come home and find her there, stretched out naked on the bed, and rip off his clothes and join her, and kiss her, and run his hands over her.
If he would just kiss her. Oh, not as intimately as Mary had been kissed, of course. Not yet. But he should suck the tips of her breasts as that big stud had done; kiss her belly and flanks-and perhaps even her thighs. And then he should mount her-and she would remember to help him here--and he would enter her gently, but with dominating firmness, and then they would fuck. Fuck? Yes! They would fuck like people who loved it and loved each other, and who found glory and rapture in the complete sharing of their hearts and bodies. Come to think of it, that had never really happened to them.
But that's the way it would happen this time. And through it all he would manage to keep that erudite intellectual mouth shut. Just this once. He wouldn't ask, he would take. He would show her gentleness and consideration instead of mouthing his concern for hurting her-and when she had no further need for compassion she would feel his strength and his male brutality. He would lead her instead of being led. And he would fuck her.
She used her deodorant, and carefully applied the scented bath powder to her entire body. The cologne went inside her elbows and between her breasts and across her belly and on the insides of her thighs. She put a touch of perfume behind each ear, a dab in her navel-and then, with a catch in her throat, she applied a mere suggestion of perfume to the upper reaches of her vulva. Just in case.
She regarded herself in the mirror once more, and turned to the bed. It took but a moment to strip back the spread and the blanket and the upper sheet, to rumple them slightly as if she had been there for some time. Sleeping, of course. But then she paused, realizing with dismay that her heart was pounding heavily. After all these preparations, would she really have the nerve to go through with it? She must! But-would she?
She turned and walked swiftly out of the room, down the hall, and into the kitchen. With sure hands she got out a bottle of bourbon and splashed a generous amount of its contents into a drinking glass. It nearly strangled her. She quickly chased it down with a glass of water, and grimly poured out another drink. This one was more circumspect-only a finger or two-and she found that it went down much more easily.
And stayed down. She wasn't much of a hand for liquor, had known few occasions when she really enjoyed a drink, but these were special circumstances. She put the bottle away, drew a deep breath, and returned to the bedroom.
The sheet felt cool and refreshing against her skin. She lay on her back, feet toward the door, and the excitement rose in her as she tried first one position and then another. She finally settled on the one Mary had used so effectively-with her exquisitely beautiful right leg extended to the floor, and the left one drawn up beside her. She laid a hand on the inside of her left thigh, let the fingertips stray beyond that heavy tendon to the hollow between thigh and body, and she released her breath in a long quivering sigh.
It would be wonderful actually to fall asleep. To be asleep when he came in. She was far too excited, of course. But the bourbon warmed her, made her relaxed and comfortable, and it was so good just to lie there with her eyes closed and feel the beat of her heart and the smoothness of her skin.
She woke with the opening of the front door. There was a hesitant step in the hall, and her heart beat wildly. It's going to work, she told herself fiercely. He knows I'm in here, and he must think I'm asleep. So all right, he'll find me asleep. If these damn nipples and that-that wanton pussy don't give me away. But what if they do? Didn't Mary say that was all part of the game?
He was in the room now. She could feel him there. It took every ounce of self-control she could muster, but she kept her eyes closed and her breathing deep and regular. And that was part of the game too, she reasoned. She knew how her breasts must look, rising and falling with the movement of her deep chest. But she almost cried out when the hand touched her left thigh.
He's-staring at it now, she thought wildly. And he's never really seen it before, either. Not like this. But he's certainly having a good look now. Oh, I hope he doesn't think it's ugly. And now I should-do it. I should move my hand.
She stirred, murmuring indistinctly, and moved her fingers to the lips of her cunt. The fingers twitched, stroked, caressed-and she let her hips respond with a slow luxurious undulation. She could hear his breathing now, could feel his eyes going over her like a warm caressing hand. But she had to make sure he didn't misjudge her, that he wouldn't think she was just playing with herself.
"Darling," she whispered, letting the word gush from her throat. She turned her face away from him, letting him see the long black lashes against her cheek. The lovely hips writhed again, and she felt her fingers becoming slippery with her own slime. "Darling," she mumbled again. "Love me, love me, love me."
She heard the rustle of clothing, the sound of a belt-buckle-and thought her heart would burst. Long moments passed-and then the bed creaked and shifted under his weight, gentle hands moved her hips away from the edge of the bed-and oh God that was the tip of his sweet prick forcing its way past her fingers, pressing against the fevered flesh. He was rather more abrupt than she'd hoped-but why not? She was ready; oh baby she was ready!
Her hand turned, grasped him, guided him-and her heart leaped at his sturdy dimensions. He was always big. But the game had certainly brought out the best in him. Now her right hand went into action, rolling back the soft flesh as Mary had done while the left one moved his prick up and down, the tip slithering between the wet pouting lips.
Her hips tilted upward. With both hands she guided the head to the entrance-and oh God he was big!
She lifted her knees high, flung them wide-tipped her ass up as she'd seen Mary tip hers-and discovered to her delight that it made the business of entry a great deal simpler. There was plenty of room for her hands now, and his high position gave her complete freedom of movement. She stroked cock and cunt with fine impartiality, rejoicing in his turgid size and strength and in the indescribable sensation of having her hands on them both, feeling the thick stalk distending her- fingers and cock and flared lips all slippery with her abundant juice.
He surged gently, and she gasped as the shaft slid through her fingers. She rolled back the tender flesh again, hips squirming, and more of that oak-hard prick passed into her. Her flesh yielded easily, wonderfully; there was no pain. Only his hard rigid strength and the feel of it gaining in her tight channel.
She moaned, and the sound burst through her clenched teeth like a muted explosion in the room's stillness. Well, not entirely still. He was panting heavily, grunting now as he moved with greater purpose, and the sounds were like music in her roaring ears. It seemed to be going more easily now. He was using more movement, gaining with every burning stroke, and the delighted laughter gurgled in her throat.
She wanted to help him, wanted to let him see her passion-so she crossed her legs behind his rump, caressed him with her thighs, pulled him to her as her hips rose-and the laughter bubbled over as the big cock sank into her.
"Oh darling, darling, darling," she said gutturally. "You're so big, and so good-and I want you so!"
Her hands crept up his sides, inside the heavy muscular arms that supported him, and came at last to his face. It was lean and clean-shaven.
Her eyes flew open and she stared wildly up at him. There was a reckless grin on his tanned face; laughing blue eyes mocked her from beneath a shock of dark red hair-and she screamed.
She'd never seen him before in all her life.
CHAPTER FIVE
"'NOTHER DRINK, Joe?" The bull-shouldered speaker pushed the bottle toward his companion. "Been too long since you and I split a fifth."
"Too long," the other agreed. But he ignored the bottle. "It's pretty early for me, Frank."
"Yeah, me too. I gotta watch it. Been hittin' this stuff too hard lately." He rubbed a nose that had probably been broken a half-dozen times. "Once in a while I get to thinkin', and when that happens I'm tempted to get outta this racket. Then I drink till I'm myself again."
The younger man grinned. "I don't know. Seems to me you're doing pretty well for yourself."
"I get by. Better'n the fight game, and that's for damn sure. But right now I got a problem."
"That figures." The other man's grin was gone. "It can't be money; you could buy and sell me a couple of times. So you need a favor. Something I'm not going to like."
"That's no way to talk," the ex-fighter said gently. There was real affection in his battered face. He studied the younger man while he turned the glass in his massive fingers. What a heavyweight he'd have made, he was thinking. He's got the size and the build-and the speed, too. I should know. But it's too late, even if he wanted to fight. Which he don't. Hell, he's-twenty-eight years old.
"Time sure gets away from us," he said aloud. "Forget it, kid. It was just an idea."
"No. I didn't come up here to cop out on you, Frank. Besides, I owe you. Let's have it."
Frank shook his head. "Not like that," he said slowly. "And you don't owe me a thing."
"Frank-"
"I've changed my mind. Now will you drink with me?"
"Sure." Joe felt awkward and more than a little foolish. He extended his glass while the other poured for both of them. "How's Molly?"
"All right. Molly's always all right. Your sister is all right too. Saves you a question. How about you, Joe. You and Herself, I mean."
"About the same."
"That bad, huh? You ought to boot that broad right square in the ass."
"Frank-"
"Don't get dignified with me, kid. She's no God damn good, and you're a fool to waste any more time-"
"She's my wife," Joe said quietly. "Brother or not, I won't have you talking that way-"
"Okay, okay. You've got your troubles, I've got mine. Drink up, and we'll try to forget 'em."
They drank, and the older man refilled the glasses.
"I been hearin' big things about you, kid. Book on the best-seller list, picture companies fightin' over the movie rights. Sounds like you got it made. Joe Killeen, famous author. I wish to hell the Old Man could have seen it."
"So do I. I wish I'd known him as well as you did."
"He was a man and a half. Drink up. Here's to Cathal Killeen-God rest 'im."
Joe felt the bourbon warming him and chasing the tension out of his body. It was good to sit here with Frank, drinking and relaxing, forgetting that he was on a one-way street to nowhere. They hadn't seen much of each other these last three years. Betty hated him, for one thing. He was big and coarse, and far too outspoken for her taste-and as out of place in her circle as a whore in church. And in his own turn, Frank despised her.
Joe remembered all too clearly the last time they'd been together, Frank and Molly and Betty and himself. "I know you," Frank had told her quietly. "I've seen you at ringside, and I've seen you waiting outside dressing rooms, and I've seen you on a hundred bar-stools. You were tall and short, blonde and brunette, young and not so young-but you all had one thing in common. And baby, I didn't raise my kid brother to marry a tramp."
Joe had belted him then, belted the ex-heavyweight champion of the world. And Frank had just sat there in the wreckage of their dinner and stared at him. "Know something?" he'd said at last," you missed your calling, kid. Nobody ever put Francis Xavier Killeen on his ass with one punch. Nobody."
And Joe had left him sitting there.
"No hard feelings?" Joe said suddenly, the grin back on his blunt Irish face.
Frank threw back his head and laughed. "Hell no. And you stop readin' my mind, kid. Say, I heard you turned down a contract with Consolidated. What was that all about?"
"It was part of a package deal. They'd buy the book, but I had to work with four other clowns on the screen play. I said no."
"Why, Joe?" Frank's eyes were curious.
"I just don't want any part of it."
"The Hollywood bit."
"That's right."
"I'll bet that went over with Betty like a fart in church."
"Just about," Joe conceded gloomily. "She thought it was a fine opportunity."
"Opportunity for who? Okay, okay. Don't be gettin' all stirred up. Speakin' of opportunities... "
"Uh-huh."
"There you go, gettin' suspicious again. Drink up, Joe."
"Yeah. Say, you're not trying to get me hammered, by any chance."
"Me? Your kindly old brother? Listen, I got me the hottest singin' prospect in the country. Made me a small fortune, until-uh-things went a little sour for him recently. You've heard of him. Hal Hawkins."
"I've heard of him," Joe said dryly.
"Ah. You've heard the rumors, too."
"Who hasn't? That wasn't the smartest move you ever made, Frank. Having him marry that college kid."
Frank snorted. "Her? She never saw the inside of a college. That was just part of the buildup. It didn't work out too good, for a fact."
"It's been done before."
"So I'm told." Now it was Frank's turn to be gloomy. "I figured I had to do something after that deal in Chicago. Every columnist in the country was on our back. I never knew there were so many ways of calling a man a fruit-and still stay clear of the libel laws."
"Is he?"
Frank stared at him. "Queer? Sure, he's queer. But they don't pay to test his sex habits, they pay to hear him sing. Queer or straight, what the hell difference does it make? The guy's got a great voice."
"So you got him married, thinking that would prove the stories were wrong."
"That's it. And you're right; it only gave the columnists something else to cackle about. The guy's finished-unless I can come up with a miracle."
"They've been damned hard on him, all right. Some of those articles were pretty raw."
"Yeah. And she's a beautiful girl, Joe. Really beautiful. Got a shape that belongs on a runway." Frank glanced at his brother from under brows thick with scar tissue. "Too bad it's all goin' to waste."
"Yeah, too bad." Joe's tone was completely lacking in sympathy.
"Ever see her?" Frank asked casually.
"No."
"You're missin' something, Joe." Frank stared at his drink. "I stand to lose my ass," he muttered, "but I feel sorry for the kid. He looks a lot like you, you know that?"
"Balls."
"Well, he's big-and he's got the same color hair. Dark red, like yours."
"Good for him."
Frank leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling. "I just gotta come up with somethin'," he said earnestly. "There oughtta be some way of makin'em forget he's a fairy."
"Simple," Joe said absently. "Get the girl pregnant." Then he grinned. "That ought to shut 'em up."
Frank gazed at him admiringly. "Say, now! Why didn't I think of that!"
"Sure, lots of fruits have kids. You hear about it all the time. Father of six exposed as anchor man in daisy chain. 'I never suspected,' tearful wife sobs. All you have to do is get him on the ball."
Frank looked downcast. "It won't work," he said mournfully. "This guy is a hundred percent fruit. It makes him unhappy to be left in the same room with her."
Joe's head was starting to hum as he watched his brother fill the glasses. "Tough," he sympathized. "But there's still a way to handle it."
"Yeah?" Frank's voice was cautious.
"It would depend on how the girl-uh-looks at it."
"Well, she knows which side of the bread her butter's on, if that's what you mean."
"In that case... You could give him a little help."
"Me?" Frank looked shocked.
"Not you, damn it. Hell, it could be anybody that's acceptable to the girl. You ought to be able to find any number of cats who'd be willing to provide some stud service."
Frank laughed delightedly and slammed his fist down on the table. "Kid, you're a genius!" he roared. "By God, it would work! She gets pregnant-we have 'em appear in public a lot when it gets obvious... Then eventually he's a daddy. Joe, you're a genius!"
"Yeah. Now what's the matter."
"It's no good," Frank declared sadly. "There's nobody I can trust. It would be too good a story to keep, understand? I'd be finished."
"But you could always call the guy a liar."
"You should know by now, Joe; it don't have to be the truth if it reads good. And this time it would be the truth, which makes it twice as bad. Besides, the kid wouldn't look anything like him, and-"
"Oh, come on," Joe said impatiently, caught up in the spirit of the thing. "You could find some character with the right coloring."
"Someone I could trust," Frank said quietly, staring intently at his brother.
Joe carefully set down his glass. "No," he said flatly.
"Whatya mean, no? Have I asked you to do anything?"
"That was just in case you were thinking about it."
"However... " Frank tossed off his drink. "It's a damn good idea, now that you mention it."
"Now that I mention it!"
"Sure. The whole thing was your idea. Drink up, you're gettin' behind."
"I've had enough to drink."
"Good thinkin', kid. You know what Shakespeare said about drinkin' and sex. He said-"
"I know what he said. It has nothing to do with me."
"Sure it does. If you're goin' to make that little girl happy tonight-"
"Tonight!"
"Well, this afternoon then, if you're so anxious to get started. I figure three times ought to-"
"Forget it."
"All right. Twice then, but you got to-uh-put your heart into it."
"Not even once. Get yourself another stud."
"You know I can't do that. Look, Joe. That kid is ripe. Right now. Shut up and let me finish. No one will ever know who it is, except you and me."
"And the girl," Joe said dryly. He was intrigued, in spite of himself. And Betty had shut him out for a long time.
"She'd be the last one to find out," Frank said eagerly. Sensing an advantage, he leaned forward. "You'd be doin' every one concerned a hell of a favor. Hal's career would be saved, I'll be solvent for a change- and you'll be puttin' a little sparkle into the kid's life. Besides, she'd have the baby she wants. She really does, you know."
"Sure she does. That's why she married a queer."
"Well, there was a little misunderstanding about that." Frank had the grace to show his embarrassment. "I guess we just forgot to tell her."
"Oh, fine. But she got paid, didn't she?"
"Well... Maybe she figured to cash in Hal's money. Only there ain't goin' to be any money. Not unless... "
"I see. So she has what you might call-a vested interest."
"I'd say so, yes."
The two brothers stared at each other, and Frank tried to hide his elation. He managed to put a tremor in his voice.
"For me, Joey. For Molly and the kids. I'm not shittin' you-"
"What kids!"
"Well... The kids we'll have some day if we can afford it. This is my last chance, Joey."
"Well... "
"She'll be waitin' for you, kid. Naked and ready, -and hotter'n a two-dollar pistol. She's a choice piece of gear."
"Hell, Frank... "
"Don't bother to thank me, kid. You'll put on some work clothes, see. Carry a tool-box, or somethin'. You go to the apartment-"
"Her place?"
"No. We'll set her up some place where nobody will recognize her. It's all set, soon as I give the word. You just go on in, have yourself some fun, and leave when you've had enough. Simple?"
"Yeah, simple. What's this doll look like?"
Frank studied his glass. "Joe," he said finally, "the less you know about her the better. She'll be wearin' a long black wig, and a lot of make-up. And don't be surprised if she's-sort of loaded."
"Now just a minute-"
"We just don't want her to be too sure she'll know you again," Frank explained patiently.
"Oh. Well, that makes sense. But I'm not going to play games with a broad that's on her ass-"
"Don't worry about that," Frank advised him hastily. "She'll be all right. You got my word."
"It still sounds pretty crazy, Frank. I-"
"Here's the address on this card. Get there any time after three. That will give you plenty of time. In case you have to go home this evening."
"You've got it all worked out, haven't you-"
"The door won't be locked. Just go in and have at it."
"Yeah." Joe's eyes went to the bottle. "I think I could use another drink."
Frank seized the bottle and capped it with an air of finality. "Not for you, kid. You got work to do."
His tall blonde wife was standing in the exact center of the living room when he got home. She'd obviously been waiting for him. She tilted her head back, placed long white hands on her fashion model hips, and positioned one foot slightly in advance of the other. He grinned sardonically at the familiar pose while his gaze went over her. No bra under the snug sleeveless blouse, he noted. The mini-skirt ended shortly below her crotch, but there were no stockings on the slim legs.
"Going somewhere?" he asked mildly.
"Obviously. And don't bother waiting up for me. I may be late."
"How about that."
"Very late."
Funny he never noticed how hard and cold her face was. Until a few months ago, that is. Yet it must have been like that always. Beautiful-lovely, in fact-but cold and hard as carefully chiseled marble.
"I didn't figure to wait," he said quietly, and in that instant made up his mind. He'd almost decided to call Frank and tell him the deal was off-but the stylized pose and her deliberate attempts to hurt him were making it easy. He knew what would come next.
"Aren't you interested in where I'm going?" she asked in her brittle voice.
"Not much," he answered wearily. It was like rehearsing the lines in a play. A very stereotyped play. He suspected she had an apartment somewhere; she'd hinted as much, and he knew she'd like him to accuse her of it.
"Not even a little bit?" she persisted. "Or who I'll be with?"
"Would it make any difference?"
"Not much," she said, savoring the use of his own words. "But you'll have those God damned fish to keep you company, and that filthy trash you call writing."
"The money spends, doesn't it? Ah, to hell with it. Have a good time.
"I intend to. A very good time." She turned, maintaining her pose while he walked past her. "You can snuggle up to a nice cold fish."
"No thanks. I did that for three years. It stinks."
Her hauteur crumbled. "Listen, you wise bastard. You might be surprised if you knew-"
"Yeah, yeah. Don't let the door hit you in the ass." He heard her high heels hitting the carpet, heard them mounting the two steps that rose from the sunken living room-and then the slamming of the front door reverberated through the house. He poured himself a drink in the kitchen and carried it down the hall and into his den. It's time to end it, he thought dismally. It's strange, so out of character for her to be throwing it all away. Just when I'm starting to hit it big. Maybe that ego of hers won't let her think it's possible. Then the fish occupied him, and the tall blonde faded from his mind.
There were three large glass tanks in the room. They were all the same size-four feet long by twenty inches high-and each of them held seventy gallons of water. He knew they were unnecessarily large, considering the number of fish he kept, but he liked giving them the freedom they needed to reach maximum size. And any living thing needed space to achieve a feeling of independence.
One tank held about a dozen fish, ranging in size from five to eight inches. These were barbs of various types, and for several minutes he admired their flashing grace as they whipped around the tank in their pre-feeding excitement. The two fish in the next tank were his favorites, perhaps because they were his introduction to tropical fish. Betty's young sister had given them to him three years ago, right after he and Betty were married. They had been a scant inch long then, consisting of little more than large spiny-rayed fins and ravenous appetites. There had been three of them in the beginning, but these two had mated and the third had been forced into celibate exile in the remaining tank.
Joe thought they were shaped a good deal like the perch he'd caught as a boy. They had the same heavy underslung jaw, the same erect fins with the soft portions of the anal and dorsal fins rounded in contrast to other cichlids, and they had the same deep powerful bodies.
The third fish had grown into a monster. Nearly a foot and a half long, and with jaws that were powerful enough to break a man's fingers, he eyed Joe belligerently as he approached the tank. Like the other two, his basic color was a dark olive green. Splotches of black formed an irregular pattern along his back and sides, but his lower portions were marked with brilliant splashes of bright orange-red. Near his tail a spot of pure velvet black was ringed by that same startling color, and just now he was swishing the tail back and forth with obvious impatience.
Joe laughed as he dropped a gob of beef-heart into the gaping mouth. This one had been too aggressive for the female's taste. She'd showed her preference for the other male. But Joe had kept this one anyway, reluctant to give the beautiful fish away, and now it was too late to find him a suitable mate. He would kill any female that failed to meet his standards-nature's way of eliminating the unfit-and where was Joe to find a lady equal to his strength and belligerence? Nowhere this side of the Amazon, obviously.
He finished feeding the fish and wandered into his bedroom. He slowly removed his shirt, relieved to find that he'd left his tension in there with the fish-as he nearly always did. And then he was undressing hurriedly, excitement stirring in him as he eased himself into the shower. He grinned when he caught himself wondering if the girl was as beautiful as Frank claimed. He hoped she was. It should be-interesting, to say the least.
He shaved, despite the fact that he'd shaved earlier in the day, and put on a suit of work khakis he'd brought back from the Navy. There was a tool-box in the trunk of his car; he'd carry it when he entered the building, and hope he looked like a maintenance man of some kind. A pair of boondock shoes completed his disguise, but he had a final bracing shot of Jack Daniels before he left the house. Just in case. And he found that he was approaching his task with high anticipation.
He parked his red Mercedes a short distance from the service entrance. He looked around him, hoping no one would notice him climbing out of it-and then grinned as he realized it wouldn't seem incongruous anyway. In this era of inflated service costs, the average plumber might very well afford an expensive sports car.
No one saw him as he entered the building, and he took the service elevator with a definite feeling of relief. Frank's card was in his shirt pocket, but he didn't bother referring to it. Hell, the apartment number was burned into his mind. He rode the elevator as far as it would take him, and found himself in a short passage that opened into the main hallway. Seconds later he was standing in front of the door.
Here he knew a moment of indecision, and glanced quickly at the card. Yes, this was the right number. Was he too early? He wished he'd thought to bring his watch. The sun was shining brightly; it was a crazy time to set up a deal like this. But Frank had been thinking that he might have trouble getting away for the evening-and there were probably other reasons that he was keeping to himself. With Frank there was always a reason. Well, hell. No sense in stalling any longer. He shrugged and cautiously tried the knob.
The door was unlocked as Frank had promised. He went in quietly, set his tool-box down on the thick carpet, and thoughtfully locked the door behind him. Then, with his heart hammering against the wall of his chest, he walked across the living room and into the hall. Ahead of him was an open doorway, and beyond it the warm glow of late afternoon sunlight. He moved to the doorway, peered in-and the breath caught in his throat.
A big bed stood squarely in the middle of the room, and on the bed was a woman. A hasty glance told him she was apparently asleep-and another more sweeping survey told him she was breathtaking.
She lay on her back with her feet toward him, more or less. She was at the side of the bed nearest him; a long, incredibly beautiful leg reached out to the floor, the delicately arched foot resting lightly on the carpet. The other leg-the left one-was drawn up beside her, and the smoothly muscled thigh had sagged until it found support on the piled bedclothes. Her left hand lay on the inside of that thigh, the fingers relaxed and gracefully curling, their tips almost touching the long full lips of her cunt.
Her position had opened the outer lips, and firm pink flesh thrust boldly through the opening. These lips too were long and hearty. The entire lusty pussy appeared to be swollen with passion; there was a sheen of moisture on the jutting pink softness-and he stared sharply at her face, wondering if she could really be asleep.
He couldn't see it too well. Her head was tipped back, a thick glossy mane of long black hair was fanned over the pillow and a good portion of the sheet. But the lovely wide-spaced breasts were rising and falling a bit too rapidly for sleep. Their erect nipples seemed to be drawing the dark aureoles upward and outward so that they resembled cones of dusky rose set on the smooth golden flesh of her magnificent breasts. Her belly was taut below the broad, deeply arched chest, the muscles of her right thigh trembled.
This gorgeous doll was wide awake. Awake and waiting for him.
He moved nearer, his avid eyes drinking in her superbly conditioned loveliness. His cock was straining against the fabric of his left pants leg, jerking nervously in its efforts to escape. And now the woman was stirring, murmuring softly-and a movement drew his attention to her left thigh, to the thick mass of gleaming black hair on the thrusting pubis-and to the wanton pussy itself. Very gently, he touched her thigh.
Breathlessly, he watched the slim brown fingers move to the lips of her cunt. Their tips traveled along its pouting length, teasing and caressing, while the muscles of her hips and thighs and belly rippled in response. Her hips writhed sensuously-the fingertips were bright with slime now-and she breathed a long luxurious sigh of genuine pleasure.
She sighed again, and this time a whispered word came with it. "Darling... " And it was little more than a breath of sound. He could see the full lips curving in a smile. And then she turned her head, taking her face away from him, but he could still see the long thick lashes trembling against her cheek.
Her entire body was trembling. The beautifully modeled hips squirmed, tilted slightly-he saw that her gently stroking fingers had separated the lips of that gleaming pinkness.
"Darling." The murmured word was like a caress. "Love me, love me, love me."
Joe needed no second invitation. He liked the game she was playing; it made things a hell of a lot easier for both of them. But game or not, this little doll was in for a rough afternoon. Or evening. Or for as long as he could provide her stud service. He retreated to the doorway, and leaned against the jamb while he removed his shoes. The khaki pants went next; he had a moment's difficulty with the military buckle-and then his shirt joined the heap on the floor. He stripped off the skiwie shirt with feverish haste, his eyes glued to those slowly moving fingers, and then his long hard cock sprang outward as he shoved the jockey shorts down his thighs.
He kicked them away while he approached the bed, watching that middle finger sliding up and down in the slippery yielding flesh. The bed creaked softly when he put his knee on it, when he moved into position between her widespread thighs. And his hands were curling under her gently writhing ass, shifting it away from the edge of the bed, and he knelt over her on hands and knees, pressing the tip of his cock against those parted lips, forcing her fingers to give way before it.
The fingers brushed him, curling under the shaft, guiding it into place-and a choked gasp came from her open mouth. Her thumb came across the shaft; she moved it gently, flaring the soft lips, and her welcoming heat traveled up his body and went leaping along his arms and legs.
She was panting now. The right hand had gotten into the act, spreading the lips of that delicious cunt and assisting the left one in its pleasant task. Her ass tipped up to him. Both hands were on his cock now, working it past the swelling lips to the delightfully tight entrance. She lifted both knees, flinging them wide, and now her hands were caressing them both. Her breath came in short shuddering gasps. She was smearing his cock with that thick slime of passion-and she almost cried out when he drove the head into her pulsing channel.
She was yielding quickly now. Her hips writhed with an undulating deliberation that inflamed him, matching his own aggressive movements, and he found himself gaining with each slow surge of his eager body. A groan came gutturally through her teeth and he increased the scope of his attack, sinking deeper with every stroke. Her low throaty laughter came to warm him.
His pleasure in her turned to rapture, and then to delighted ecstasy. The snug passage was opening and closing spasmodically, grasping his cock with surprising strength. He had heard of such women, only half believing the stories, but here was warm vibrant rhythmic reality. Her thighs moved in on him, stroking his body, and he felt her legs tugging at the backs of his thighs. Her hips rose, shaking and jerking, and once more the laughter gurgled in her throat.
"Oh darling, darling, darling." The words came in a hoarse whisper. "You're so big, and so good-and I want you so."
Her hands were on him now, moving over his body, and at last they came to his face. Her body stiffened; her head turned toward him and her eyes flew open- and their expression of horror was like a right hand shot over the heart.
Frank didn't tell me she was Chinese, he thought vaguely- And then she screamed.
CHAPTER SIX
"WHO-WHO ARE you?" she gasped. "What are you doing here?"
"Just call me darling. And you've got to be joshin', baby."
"Get off," she said fiercely. And-stop that-that humping... "
"You're pretty lively yourself, doll. And I was invited, remember?"
"Stop that! Oh, damn you!"
She expected her outraged body to reject him, or at the very least deny him further ingress. But it wasn't working out that way at all. Instead he continued his gentle assault on her, that big stiff hardness probing deeper with every movement-skidding over her cervix now-and her treacherous hips were helping him, the wayward legs were tightening their grip each time her squirming ass rose to meet his thrust.
"You-you rapist! I-I want you to leave. Right now, do you hear? I-I promise I won't call the police -if you'll-just-put on your clothes and go. Oh God-"
"Come on, doll," he said thickly. "Why fight it? Who do you think you're kidding?"
"Oh, you bastard," she whimpered, her hips writhing upward. Her nails were digging into his shoulders. "Please, please... "
"I'm doing my best, damn it. Don't you think you're carrying this a little too-"
"Don't-rape me, please!"
"Rape you! You put it in, sweetheart. You invited me to play. And by God you're good at it, baby. Really good. Don't waste it, China doll."
"I can't help it," she sobbed. "Oh God... I can't help it!"
"So don't try," he muttered. "Just-let go, baby. Let it all hang out."
"Yes!" she growled savagely. "Yes, yes, yes!" And with each explosive word her hips leaped at him; the pain was an exquisite delight to her-and then there was no pain at all and the huge thing that filled her was moving easily in her hot slippery flesh. She felt herself gripping him spasmodically, her muscular body grasping that male hardness with a rhythmic pattern that was beyond her control.
His cock retreated. She sent her convulsed pussy in hot pursuit, and moaned rapturously when the broad shaft bore hard against her clitoris. He began his return. Her hips tilted instinctively, bringing the welcoming channel in line with his stroke-and her back bent, the long legs pulled at him, her ass rose. And the long hard cock was plunging deep; her cunt struck him a glancing blow and continued upward, his balls were against her anus for an instant. And then her cunt was slithering along his belly, pulling the thick stalk out of her-and then she was in quick pursuit again, driving him deep, her hips falling away as he withdrew for another stroke. It was Mary's movement, and it was lovely, lovely. And here it came again!
The skin was burning along her arms and legs and over all of her body. Her sense of touch seemed magnified a hundredfold, and his plunging cock was like an electrode that increased her awareness, her sensitivity, until her hips were gyrating in an agony of rapture. She hadn't dreamed there was so much sensation in all the world. The long hard heat plunged into her, rode over her cervix. And she drove herself against him recklessly, ass jerking and hips swinging-and then it was leaving her again; she engulfed him once more, let him go, felt the flaring head retreating to the entrance.
"Hard, hard, hard!" she snarled. "Ram it into me- hard! And-keep it there."
Her hips exploded then, jumping and surging against him. She felt a big hand on her tortured ass, the fingers delving into the deep cleft-reaching her anus; her hips were grinding wildly. A wave of heat rose in her, wrenching a shuddering groan out of her chest.
"Ah God... "
"Come on, baby. Come on, China doll. Jesus, what a woman you turned out to be!"
That hard hot flame was tearing at her, searing her. The lips of her cunt were on fire. She ground them against his body, jerked them up and down between the root of his prick and the lower portion of his belly, the soft flesh sucking at him, sliding wetly in its own slime.
"Yeah, doll. Shake it, baby. Have yourself a ball."
His hand gripped her. His weight shifted forward, forcing his cock against her clitoris, his hips pumped at her.
"Ah-h-h-h! Ah-h-h-h! Oh-my-God!"
The storm passed, leaving her sobbing for breath. The beautiful legs released his hips, slid down his body to curl around his thighs. But her hips were still moving, sliding the swollen lips of her pussy up and down that turgid stalk; her ass squirmed slowly, sending the engorged head on a search of her body, rubbing her erect clitoris across the broad back of his buried cock.
"I-can't-seem to stop," she panted. "Don't you want to-finish it?"
"Not yet, beautiful." He lowered himself to his left elbow, and his right hand moved over the rounded curve of her hip to the tight waist. "I'm in no hurry."
She turned her head, and a hand came up to brush a thick raven's wing of hair out of her face. The dark, slightly tilted eyes were clear and unafraid.
"You might as well, you know. After that, I don't think I could... I mean-there's no point in waiting."
"I'm still in no hurry. And you could be wrong."
He settled his weight onto his left hip, and her body instinctively turned with him. She slid her right thigh up past his hip, her free left thigh came up to stroke him-and the dusky rose showed in her cheeks as his eyes swept over her.
"You'd better go," she told him quietly. "I'll concede that this was as much my fault as yours, but-"
"You enjoyed it, didn't you? You sure as hell acted like it."
"Well-Yes, of-of course I did, but-"
"Then who gives a damn about the rest of it? And besides, we're not finished yet. Unless you're expecting somebody."
He grinned when the color rose in her face again. Then his eyes turned serious. "By God, if he crossed me... Say baby, just what the hell were you expecting?"
"He'll kill you," she whispered. "You'd better go. Get it-over with if you want to, and-then go."
"I'm a little confused," he said slowly, but she was only half aware of what he was saying. He was big, she noted. Big and powerful and beautifully muscled. She'd never seen such arms. Yes, she had; on Mary's big stud. But this man was almost as big. He appeared to be as well built. His face was rather handsome in a blunt to-hell-with-it Irish sort of way-and this long thick rod was still burning her, and why couldn't she keep those wanton hips still?
"He'll be here-at five," she said faintly.
"Then we've got an hour. Let's make the most of it, China doll."
He pressed her left shoulder down until her upper body lay flat on the bed. Her hips were still turned toward him slightly; she still held him in the embrace of her legs, and her right hand was curled over his left shoulder. His own right hand moved up her belly, past the deep navel, over the arching rib cage, and came finally to her left breast. The big fingers caressed it tenderly.
"Beautiful," he said gently. "Just like all the rest of you. What's your name, beautiful? I mean--now that we're acquainted, I've got to call you something."
"I sort of like-China doll."
What's the matter with me, she wondered. He comes in here and rapes me. Well, not exactly, perhaps. But I've never seen him before, and-here I am asking for more!
"Don't-stop," she breathed. He'd moved his hand to the outer curve of her breast, but now she replaced it. Her own hand lay on his. She found the erect nipple jutting between his fingers. And greatly daring, she pressed it against them with the ball of her thumb.
"Don't stop," she repeated softly.
But he moved his hand. Her eyes widened as his head came down-and then her own hand moved, curled under that firm smooth fullness; she squeezed gently and her back arched-and her heart pounded as she watched the tip of her breast disappear between his lips. He raised his head, allowed the aureole to slip out of his mouth; she felt his teeth on her nipple. And then he sucked it in again, along with some silken golden flesh, and she heard herself laughing softly as her hips ground against him.
Her left thigh caressed him, flung wide-and his hand was there to stroke its satin surface. She freed her right hand, turned her body to pull the swollen tip out of his mouth-and offered the other in its place. Then she pressed them together, attempting to present both tips at once, but her breasts were much too firm and too far apart. So he alternated between the two until the breath was sobbing in her throat.
Her free thigh flailed at him, rode up and down his body; the long leg curled over his hips-and now he was helping her, his movements matching the slow undulations of her lithe body. He abandoned her breasts and moved over her, still on his elbows, and fucked her with languorous cock-length strokes. Her hands remained on her breasts. The almost-black eyes blazed at him, inviting him to watch while she caressed herself. So he rose to arm's length, her lovely swollen mouth curved in a heavy sensual smile-and she laughed again when his eyes went to her breasts.
Her entire body was writhing now. Her movements grew progressively more abandoned. She set her feet on the bed; her ass rose in slow surges, hips twisting and shuddering.
"I'm going to come," she whispered.
"Sure you are, baby."
"Come-with me."
"I'm going to, China doll."
"Then let's make it-very good."
Her hands came up to his shoulders, tugged at him, and he lowered himself to his elbows. She tipped herself up to him, glued herself against him, responded to his quickening tempo.
"Oh it's so good," she breathed. "So good, so good-"
"Yeah," he agreed in a choked voice, and she laughed delightedly.
"For you too? Is it-so good for you too?"
"Ah baby, baby."
"I know," she moaned. "I know, I know. It's-so- absolutely wonderful. I didn't know-it could be like this."
"Me-either."
"Really? Am I-that good for you? Am I?"
"You're-that good. Ah honey, honey."
"Are you close? Tell me," she demanded fiercely, her hips jumping wildly. "Tell me, tell me. Are you close?"
"Yeah. Yeah, I am. But-I'm not that close. You're -so damn beautiful, and so hot, and so good."
Her legs slid over his and her arms drew him close. "Come down to me," she whispered. "Hold me. Hold me-tight. Yes, yes. I want to feel your weight on me. Now-love me. Oh-God-yes! Oh, yes! Oh darling I'm so close. I'm-going crazy. Very-soon now."
"Hang on, baby. I'm right with you-almost."
"Hurry, hurry."
They lay locked in that tight embrace, bodies nearly extended, but the bed creaked in protest at their convulsive violence. They writhed and twisted, hips churning in that close combat, and she felt his sweat on her breasts and belly.
"Darling?" she said thickly. "Darling?"
Yeah, yeah, yeah."
"I-want it all."
"Soon, doll. Soon."
Her head went back. The strong neck arched; he turned his head, staring wildly at the curving column of her throat.
"Oh God," he rasped, and the first paroxysm wrenched at him. "Now, baby, now! Now! Now!
"Yes, oh yes! Oh-darling!"
She moaned hoarsely, hands ripping at his back, and the bed jumped and shuddered. I'm dying, she thought dazed. Nobody could endure this much ecstasy! And then her teeth were in his shoulder, her whole being opened to him as the hot flood pumped into her.
He would have moved to take his weight from her, but her arms and legs tightened possessively. After a while she said: "Who are you? What's your name, and -how did you get here?"
"I'm just a guy, China doll. You are Chinese, aren't you?"
"My mother was-and don't change the subject. You're not just a guy. You're the man who-who-"
"Who what, baby?" And now his voice was teasing her.
"You know what. Among other things, you raped me."
"Sure, I did. But I'm more interested in the 'other thing'. Let's go into that a little further."
She giggled. "Frankly, I don't see how you could go into it any further. Not without-killing me."
Now his tone was full of concern. "Did I hurt you, honey? What is your name, anyway?"
"It's Jonni. And no, you didn't hurt me. Oh, a little bit at first. But I didn't mind."
I'll be more careful in the future," he assured her, and she thought he was being deliberately casual.
"In the future?" She kept her tone light, but she felt the excitement stirring again.
"Certainly, in the future. You didn't figure to let it go at this, did you?"
"I-I really hadn't given it much thought." She giggled again. "I haven't had time."
The phone rang, the sound strident after their muted conversation. She stared at him, her eyes wide and serious.
"I have to get up."
"Let the damn thing ring."
"I can't. It's probably my-a friend of mine. If it is, he'll just let it keep ringing."
"Maybe he's going to be late."
The thick lashes veiled her eyes. "I suppose it's a possibility."
"Then answer it, by all means."
"Yes. Ah."
"I can reach the nightstand," he said gently.
"In the second drawer," she muttered, keeping her face averted.
"He handed her a small towel, lifted himself to let her get it into position, and then eased his depleted cock out of her. She held half of the towel against her pussy, wiped him carefully with the rest, and then wadded it all between her thighs. He eased himself down beside her; she swung her legs over the edge of the bed and rose with one fluid movement. She walked to the door, the swaying mane of black hair keeping time with her swinging hips.
"Holy Christ," he breathed reverently, and then she was gone.
It was Jim.
"I was taking a nap," She said in answer to his question. To her surprise, she realized her manner was impatient.
"I won't be home tonight," he said carefully.
"Oh?"
"Yes. Frank is sending me to San Francisco. We're working out a deal with another agency that's practically got a corner on the Frisco nightclub circuit. They'll scratch our back if we'll scratch theirs. Frank wants me to handle it."
"It's a little unexpected, isn't it?"
"It's a damned nuisance, but you know how Frank is. 'Never send a ham-and-egger to do a contender's job.' So I'm elected."
"Will you be back tomorrow?" She could hear her heart beginning to pound. Now it was really over. And she didn't care.
"If my ideas on the mutual assistance pact suit them. There shouldn't be any problem, but you never know."
"I see. Well, thanks for letting me know."
"You're not upset?"
"No, Jim. I'm-getting used to it."
"Yes, well... " He seemed about to say something else, but she could almost feel him shrug over the phone. "All right, Jonni. I'll call as soon as I get back."
Her feelings were mixed as she slowly replaced the phone in its cradle. She felt a twinge of guilt-and then her basic honesty brought her chin up and squared her broad shoulders. Let's face it, she thought. I'm glad. Another thing: he was lying again, and I don't give a damn. I really don't. Because I'm starting to live again. She walked back into the bedroom and found her attacker sitting on the edge of the bed. She paused inside the door, suddenly very much aware of her nakedness -and of the wide-eyed admiration in his rugged Irish face.
"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph," he observed fervently.
"You shouldn't-stare at me like that."
"Yeah, I'm a beast. And you are something altogether different, baby. What a body you've got, girl. What a hell of a body! I've-I've never seen anything like it!"
She considered covering various parts of it with her hands and arms, but quickly abandoned the idea. Instead she shook her head, sweeping the heavy mass of hair back over her shoulders, and smiled at him. And his eyes felt good on her. Very good.
"That was-my friend," she informed him. He was -ah-called out of town. Unexpectedly."
"Was he now!"
"Yes. And-I thought I'd take a shower." Her face went hot at the expression in his eyes, but her own were steady. "There's a bottle in the kitchen, if you'd care for a drink."
"I would. I'm forgiven, then?"
"Forgiven?" Now she was smiling again. She felt strong and confident suddenly, and possessed an unlimited power. No hint of shyness remained to her.
"For raping you," he explained, and joined in her laughter.
"I'm going to reserve comment for the present," she told him. "It was a horrible thing to do, you know."
"Oh, I know. Oh, hell yes."
"And you should be-very ashamed of yourself."
"I am. Terribly ashamed."
"I can see that." She looked at his grinning face and his broad shouldered muscularity, and some of her confidence evaporated. He was so-so very handsome, and had such a wonderful body. And she knew it was important that he shouldn't think ill of her.
"I can explain-what happened," she said hesitantly.
"Does it matter?" He was being deliberately casual now, but his eyes were puzzled. He started to speak again, but apparently thought better of it. She felt an unpleasant strangeness developing between them.
"It matters." She looked full into his eyes. "I thought-"
"Yes?"
"It can wait. I've got to take that shower." She hesitated a moment longer, and he rose to the bait.
"I'll join you," he said, and got off the bed. Still she didn't move.
She wished he'd give her some indication of his plans. After all she'd let him know there was no longer any urgency, that she was free for the evening. And for the night, too.
He walked toward her, and she caught her breath. He was-really beautiful, she decided, with a definite quickening of her pulse. She'd never been especially turned on by male nudity. Not until she'd seen Mary's big stud in action. And now here was this naked stranger coming toward her, the muscles rippling over his magnificent body, the big limp cock swinging ever so slightly. And Jonni discovered that she was very much aroused.
He put his hands on her hips, and the touch thrilled her. He moved in close. His cock was against her pubic hair now; the tip of her right breast burned where it touched him-and she knew she was trembling. His right hand moved to her waist, traveled gently up her body-passing lightly over her left breast-and at last it reached her face. He tipped it up to him.
"You're beautiful," he said softly, and she saw that his mouth was tender. But she saw something else, too. He was tall, well over six feet, she guessed. Would he think her too short? Too short for what, for God's sake? What was she thinking about!
You've got a sweet, lovely face," he was saying softly, "and the most sensual mouth I ever saw. I've neglected it-and that mustn't continue."
His mouth was as warm and vital as it looked, and surprisingly gentle. Her own lips parted; there was a fleeting memory of the way that mouth had felt on her breasts-her arms crept up around his neck. And then her hips moved in against him. Her mouth slackened, came alive, slackened again; to her amazement she felt her tongue darting between his lips, felt him return the thrust when hers retreated.
She knew her hips were stirring, knew her fingers were digging into his shoulders. She moved her head back and forth, her open mouth inviting his tongue's invasion. Somehow one of his thighs was between hers. The towel slipped to the floor, but she didn't care. The hard muscles caressed her, became slippery with the ooze from her heated cunt; her ass surged.
She pressed her wet swollen mouth against his chest. "I don't know what's the matter with me," she whispered brokenly. "I'm acting like a whore. I'm so ashamed."
"For being a woman? Be glad, baby. There aren't as many around as you might think."
"It's-it's what you think that bothers me. And for the life of me, I don't know why."
"So don't worry about it, doll. For what it's worth, you're the best thing that's ever happened to me."
There was a disturbing tumult in her, and she thought she recognized it. It grew until it set her heart to hammering again, and she knew she didn't recognize it at all. Not like this. It frightened her, but with characteristic honesty she faced it squarely. He must stay. She had to know him, to find out what it meant. What it really meant.
"What are you thinking about, baby?" His tone was careful again. "Ordinarily that's an unfair question, but if you're having-second thoughts-" Her happy giggle interrupted him, and his arms tightened around her. His voice sounded relieved.
"Share the joke, Jonni. Let me in on it."
It was the first time he'd used her name, and it brought a glow of warmth along with it. And it made her reckless.
"I was just thinking. What a strange way for two people to meet!"
"But a damned effective one, I'd say."
"I-I can't argue with that. But how would we ever explain it?"
"Why should we ever have to?"
"Just suppose that this developed into-a lasting friendship, or something like-"
"I can suppose that easily enough."
"Can you? And suppose that our-our grandchildren-"
"Our what?" And that puzzled look was back in his eyes.
"Does the thought frighten you?"
"No. But-children come first, I understand."
"All right," she conceded agreeably. "So our children eventually get around to asking us-asking me-how we met. How would I tell them?"
"With the truth, of course. Can't start out by lying to the kids." Now he was showing her his broad grin.
"Oh, sure. 'Well, Junior, I opened my eyes and there he was, with his big... "
"Cock... "
"Yes, 'with his big cock stuck halfway into me, and-' "
"They'd never understand," he assured her solemnly.
"Neither do I."
"So it's our own little secret. Now let's see about that shower."
"Wait." She made her tone as impersonal as possible. "You'll stay for dinner, won't you?"
"Thank you, I'd be delighted," he answered in the same manner, but his blue eyes were dancing.
"And-afterward?"
"Afterward, by all means."
She laughed, and disengaged his hands. "All right then, follow me."
"It's a real pleasure," he said earnestly, and she giggled all the way into the bathroom.
The shower proved to be a temporary stopgap. It was a big stall, and at her suggestion they took their shower together. But there is only so much room beneath a shower head, no matter how many adjustments are made. She broke out of his embrace at one point, breathlessly suggesting that he wash her back-and she raised no objections when he progressed to her beautifully formed rump, to her long perfect legs. And when he turned her around she gasped as his erection skidded across her belly.
His hands were already soaping her breasts, and it seemed only fair that she would render the same service to his rigid cock and large balls.
"It -feels so good," she murmured huskily, her hands sliding along the soap-slick shaft.
"Yeah," he agreed thickly. "But-a little of that could go a long way, sweetheart. Oh, Jesus."
Her fingertips were circling the head's flaring rim. Her tone indicated an intense interest. "You mean I could-make it...?"
"All over your pretty belly, Jonni."
"Hm-m-m-m. I think we'd better-finish our shower."
"Good thinking, China doll."
She gently disengaged his hands. "I'll take it from here. And I think you'd better turn around."
He was lying on the bed when she joined him, and his hard-on was still very much in evidence. She stared at it while desire boiled in her, and with no thought at all she leaned over and brushed her open mouth across its tip. Then she got onto the bed, straddling him on hands and knees, and moved forward until her cunt was pushing the thick shaft ahead of it. Her hips squirmed, and the underside of his cock lay against the soft protruding lips.
"It turns out that I'm absolutely shameless," she informed him, shaking the luxuriant hair out of her face. "It also turns out that I want you to want me. Do you like it this way? With the woman on top? I-may not be very good at it."
His hands followed the blue-eyed gaze to her breasts. "Baby, anything you do is fine, just so it's you and me.
"That's the way I feel about it," she said low-voiced.
"How can you tell? You don't even know my name, Jonni."
"You'll tell me about yourself. When you're ready."
Her hips were moving, stroking him with the moist warmth between her thighs. His hands fondled her breasts, caressed the curving smoothness of her hips- and soon his cock was slippery with her oozing juice. She moved back, pulled the long shaft to her-and her eyes were on his face while he watched her wedge the head into her body. She advanced on him then, dark eyes burning while she impaled herself with writhing surges of her sleek hips, and at last her ass reached his thighs.
"Now I'm going to love you," she growled, and the cloud of long black hair was swirling around her shoulders.
CHAPTER SEVEN
JIM LEANED over the seated redhead, his hands going to her waist. His fingers curled under the sweater's lower edge, and Faye raised her arms as his hands moved up her sides. The sweater hung up momentarily under the heavy breasts, but he tugged it free and the huge white globes burst into view. Jim caught his breath as he stared at them, the forgotten sweater falling to the floor. Then her hands came up in a vain attempt to cover them, and he grinned.
"Let's have a look at you," he said easily, and helped her to her feet. Her eyes remained on his face while he gently removed her hands, and then he stepped back. The hands dropped to her sides. The broad shoulders went back instinctively, the big chest filled with air and Jim shook his head with incredulous admiration.
"Lady," he said softly, "you and T have got to get together. A lot of broads have made it in this town with nothing to offer but a big pair of tits. And most of them had to keep 'em covered. These days it's different. No holds are barred, bare tits are in, and you have got it made."
He took her hand and led her around the coffee table and out to the center of the room. She stood silently while he walked around her, his cock fully erect now, and her face was flaming. Finally he stopped in front of her.
"The best part of it is that they're well shaped," he said thoughtfully. "Most big tits are just blobs of fat. These are firm and rounded, with pointed tips and good-sized nipples. Usually the aureoles are a dead give-away. These broads get 'em pumped up with silicone, and the aureoles spread out like pancakes. Ruins the whole effect. Yours are beautiful."
Barbie's tone was biting. "What are you, big shot; a tit expert?"
"Yes, as a matter of fact. Among other things." His gaze was still fixed on the big quivering breasts. "This is all you, isn't it?"
She nodded, unable to speak. He raised his hands.
"May I?" And now his voice was a trifle unsteady.
She nodded again, and his hands moved over the smooth contours. He squeezed here and there, very gently; he rubbed her nipples until they stood firm and erect and dark with blood-and finally he lifted them, let them drop, and grinned at their youthful resiliency Regretfully, he took his hands away.
"Best big tits I ever saw," he muttered. "I know a little lady with prettier tits. And they're not small, either. But-"
"You never objected to mine," Betty commented. But she knew him, and knew herself, and there was no resentment in her voice.
"You have lovely breasts," he told her truthfully. "So have you, incidentally," shooting a glance at Barbie-"and artistically, I consider them much more desirable. But we're not talking about art. We're talking about contemporary show business, and right now there's damned little connection between the two. These tits will sell. Can you feature her on stage in- 'Hair', maybe, or 'Oh Calcutta'?"
"They take it all off," Betty reminded him, and there might have been a trace of malice in the words.
"That's right." Jim showed the blushing redhead his sardonic grin. He nodded at the brief skirt. "Do you mind, Faye baby?"
She moistened her lips and tried twice before she could speak. "Not-not my panties."
"Fair enough."
The zipper was over her left hip and there were two eye-hooks to dispose of, but Jim handled the chore with a skill that spoke of extensive practice. He pulled at the loosened skirt; she stepped out of it when it slid to the floor, and stood in her spike heels and bikini panties while they inspected her.
Jim whistled through his teeth while his rapt gaze went over her. "Perfect!" he exclaimed. "Hell, she's built like Mary Murphy. Heavier, but with the same proportions. Man, what a pair of legs!"
"You guys kill me," Barbie snorted. "All you ever think about are legs and tits. Take a good look, hotshot. Ever see a belly like that on a big woman. Or such a pretty ass?"
"Yeah. On Mary Murphy. And on... A couple of other dolls. But she's got it all. No question about that."
"Good thighs," Betty commented. "They look too heavy at first. But actually, they're very good. And she's got some other-outstanding features."
"Yes, she has," Jim agreed.
They were all staring at the girls pubis. The filmy panties just managed to cover its thrusting boldness, but offered little in the way of concealment. Jim laughed.
"This kid's the real McCoy," he observed. "Red hair and all."
It was true enough. The rich mat of pubic hair was clearly outlined, and its red sheen glowed through the fine mesh of her panties. His eyes roamed over her, from the long-armed, broad-shouldered torso, past the snug waist, and over the wide curving hips to the long, powerful-looking legs. She was spectacular, and his eyes grew thoughtful as he made another circuit around her. When he stopped in front of her again, her own gaze dropped to his rampant cock.
"I won't apologize for that," he told her mildly. "It's a sign of sincere approval."
"I-don't mind."
"Good. Betty, be a doll and pour us a round of drinks. I think we could all use one. Faye baby, I could stand here and look at you for hours, but we ought to get down to business. And you must be getting tired of being on display. Why don't you-"
"I said-I don't mind." The hot eyes and sensually heavy mouth said it was the truth, and this time his grin was genuine. She'd gotten over her embarrassment very quickly.
"That's fine," he assured her. "You'd better get used to it. Now why don't you sit down, and we'll talk about your future."
"Well... " She glanced at his hard-on again, and he laughed with real amusement.
"First things first, sweetheart. Let's all have a drink. I'll-uh-subside in due time."
As it turned out, they had several drinks while they discussed the redhead's potential. Jim grew impatient with Barbie's insistence on formal training.
"Balls!" he exploded finally. "Who's going to worry about acting ability when this kid comes on like that! Use your head! She'll have their tongues hanging out so far they won't care if she can even talk. She could walk around an empty stage and be a hit-and she's big enough for the people in the balcony to see all the details. Besides, we haven't got the time. This nudity on stage bit won't last forever."
He turned to Barbie and stabbed at her with a rigid forefinger. "What about that play of yours? Isn't it going into production?"
"We-think so, but-"
"And don't tell me it's a small-time company. We'll get more backing if we need it. All I want is some exposure. And I mean exposure." His eyes went to the opulent figure on the couch. "Complete exposure," he said quietly, and Faye hastily gulped her drink. "Barbie, what about the slave-girl scene? You know, where some guy tries to sell the girl to the Sultan."
"Well, it would do, of course. But I thought Jonni-"
"Forget it. I want-"
"Jonni's got a lovely body," Barbie said quietly. "She'd be perfect."
"Sure she would, only she won't do it. Not the way I want it done."
"No?"
"No. And don't look so wise. She'd dance naked, maybe-but she wouldn't touch that part with a barge pole. And it's made to order for this big broad. I'll see to it that the right people are there. Say, you don't happen to have the script with you?"
Barbie's grin was a reflection of his. "It just so happens... If I can find my bag."
"Clever girl. All I'm interested in is the slave scene. Look, Faye. This is a dream sequence, see. The guy imagines he's a Sultan in ancient Baghdad-"
"Caliph," Barbie murmured.
"Okay, so he's a Caliph. Anyway he wants a girl, and this pimp brings one in-"
"Slave dealer."
"So all right! This slave dealer brings in the girl for the Caliph's inspection. She's a doll and she's naked, but naked dolls are old stuff to this cat, understand? So the slave dealer has to sell him on the girl's-ah-accomplishments, and he ends up by demonstrating how hot she is."
"If we get away with it," Barbie interjected.
"It will go," he said impatiently. "Hell, anything goes. Have you been to the theatre lately?"
"Yeah," she answered dryly. "I've been to a couple of my own plays."
Betty got up with her typical lithe grace. "I've got a suggestion," she said, and her normally crisp voice was slurred with bourbon. "Barbie and I will do the scene, so Faye can see what you're talking about."
"Good idea," Barbie said eagerly. "I'll be the slave dealer."
Betty stared at her. "Naturally. And I'll be the girl."
"I'll have to tie your hands, you know." Barbie actually licked her lips and her eyes were gleaming. "Of course it depends on how-realistic you want to make it."
"I want to play it the way it's written."
The two women gazed at each other and Barbie said slowly: "You want the make-up too?"
"Might as well."
"I'll-have to fix you up, then."
"We'll use the bedroom." Betty turned to Jim, and he noted her repressed excitement. "You two have another drink, and we'll be back before you finish it."
Barbie's voice was even huskier than usual. "And when we come in we'll be doing the scene. So-no comments, okay? Until we're finished."
"Good enough," Jim assured them, and the two slim young women disappeared into the hallway. He got up and walked to the couch.
"We might as well watch this together," he suggested, and seated himself beside her. When the glasses were full again he slipped an arm around her shoulders.
"Relax," he said easily, "and keep one thing in mind. This scene comes in the middle of the second act, and it's intended to shock hell out of the audience. It will, believe me. But the girl will be remembered by everyone who sees it, and if it's you it could mean instant success. So drink up-loosen up-and try to picture yourself in Betty's part."
"All right, Mr. Reed," she said softly, turning her body so that the big right breast nestled against him.
"Ah. Jim. It's Jim, honey."
"All right-Jim."
She extended her left arm to return the empty glass to the coffee table, and the movement forced her spectacular breasts together. He stared down at the deep cleft, considering that warm exciting softness, and knew that he had to have her. His erection had finally subsided-as he'd predicted-but now it rose in rigid salute.
"I hope you'll forgive my rudeness," he muttered. "I can't seem to avoid staring at your breasts."
"There's nothing to forgive," she told him breathlessly. "Actually, I think it's-very flattering." She glanced at his cock, and this time her blush began on the upper slopes of her breasts.
"They're lovely, Faye. So is the rest of you, of course, but... "
"I understand-Jim."
"Do you? I sincerely hope so. And that you don't mind my-frankness."
"I think I'm enjoying it. And I can see how-sincere you are." She giggled and hid her face against his chest. "I must be drunk," she whispered. She took the glass out of his hand, set it on the coffee table, and led the hand to her left breast. "In fact-I am drunk. Just a little. But drunk or sober, I sure like what you're doing to me."
"Uh-yeah, baby. And that reminds me. Before you leave-"
"Royal Arms, apartment seven," she murmured. "Do you think they're too big? My nipples, I mean."
Betty's voice came from the doorway. "Here we come," she announced. "Are you ready? Oh yes, you're ready. Both of you, I see. Well, there's nothing like a receptive audience."
"Here's the way it goes," Barbie informed them seriously. "You've got to forget that I'm naked, and imagine that I'm an Arab slave trader. You won't need to exert yourselves as far as Betty's concerned. She's exactly right."
Jim had to agree. They'd wrapped something soft and clinging around that lithe body, and secured it at her left shoulder. Her eyes were heavily made up, the bright hair hung loose around her shoulders, and they'd used Jim's necktie to lash her hands behind her. Barbie still wore her high heels, which made her suitably tall for the occasion, and she held a bathrobe cord that had been looped around Betty's neck.
"All right," Barbie muttered, "here we go."
She pushed Betty into the center of the room, and both women dropped to their knees.
"Here she is, O Master of the Universe. The rarest jewel in all Islam."
Jim promptly forgot her earlier instructions. "Rise then, fool!" he barked. "How can I see her when you keep her groveling like a slave."
"She is a slave," Barbie reminded him caustically. "Up, girl. The Sword of the Prophet would have a look at you."
Betty managed to rise gracefully in spite of her bound hands, and stood with downcast eyes. Barbie seized the clasp at her left shoulder and stripped away the flimsy garment. And Jim saw what had taken them so long.
Betty's slim white body gleamed with a faint sheen of oil. Her nipples and aureoles had been rouged, a stone of some kind had been set in her navel, and her pubic hair had been carefully combed and oiled.
"Time out," Barbie said in her husky voice. "There's one thing I should mention at this point. A Moslem would expect her to be clean-shaven. It's in the script, but we didn't want to go that far."
"It was all right with me," Betty remarked.
"Quiet, slave." Barbie resumed her slave dealer's manner. "Regard these breasts, O Champion of the Faithful. See these tiny nipples, like rosebuds set on a boss of coral pink. Observe the flatness of her belly, the supple slimness of her waist, and the smooth muscles of her thighs. There's many a delight in this lovely body, O Master." And as she talked, Barbie's hands were moving over the slim whiteness.
"Turn around, girl. Ah! Saw you ever such an ass? Firm and well-muscled, yet soft and sweet-and never has it been violated, O Light of the World! Ah, you doubt? May I die of the plague if I lie! There is strength in that slim waist, O Master. Enough to give you many nights of rapture. Her maidenhead? Alas, that has been taken from her. But hear me out, I pray you, and if you are not impressed I will welcome the ships of your servants. Turn around, girl."
Betty faced them again, and Jim was surprised to see her legs trembling. Barbie drew a deep breath, and now she too appeared upset.
"Master," she said huskily, "you have doubtless wondered why I kept her hands bound behind her. It is because she is full of fire and passion, and it is very difficult to restrain her. Even now she casts lascivious eyes upon your sublime person, O Master, and were I to loose her she would likely throw herself at your feet and beg you to mount her.
"It is said that she knows more ways to whet the appetite-and more ways to satisfy it-than any woman who ever drew breath. It was also whispered to me that she is possessed of the secret of long life, and is nearly a thousand years old. I myself do not say it, O Light of the World; I only repeat what was told to me. But this I do know. She is passionate beyond belief, and a slave to erotic pleasure. Behold!"
Barbie had turned the blonde to face her, and now she suddenly thrust her cupped hand between the other's thighs. Betty shuddered. Her head tipped back; her knees bent slightly and the slim thighs parted-and her hips began to move with a slow undulating cadence as she rubbed her cunt against that gripping hand.
"Oh, my goodness," the redhead said faintly, and laid her hand on Jim's thigh. But a quick glance showed him a pair of parted lips and hot avid eyes.
Betty's hips were moving faster. Smooth muscles writhed in her thighs and belly, and the cheeks of her ass jerked convulsively. She moaned. Then she wrenched at her bonds, her hands came free-and she was running them over her body, caressing her hips and belly and the insides of her twitching thighs, cupping her breasts, teasing the nipples with her fingertips.
And now Barbie's hand was moving, helping her, and wet sticky sounds came from between the straining thighs. She moved her feet farther apart, gripped the cheeks of her ass with both hands, thrust her hips forward. The lively ass surged madly.
"Oh-God... " she moaned, and sank gracefully to the floor. Slowly the long white legs straightened and she lay sprawled on her back, chest heaving as she fought for breath.
Barbie turned to face the couch, her face white and shaken.
"Did I lie, O Defender of the Faith?" she croaked, and then faintly: "Curtain."
"Bravo," Jim said quietly.
"Wonderful!" the redhead gasped. "Just-wonderful! But-Betty should do it! Why... I never saw such superb acting in my life!"
Betty laughed breathlessly. "Acting? Hardly. Shall we show them what happens at the curtain call?"
Barbie's voice was a hoarse whisper. "The curtain goes up, and-the Caliph is... "
Betty drew her bent knees up over her body, lifting that taut ass clear of the floor. "Show them! she growled. "Come on, Barbie. Show them!"
Barbie kicked off her shoes and moved over the other woman. She straddled her, stood staring down at her for a moment, and then sank to the floor with Betty's body between her thighs. She leaned forward on her hands; Betty spread her thighs as Barbie's ass descended between them; cunt met cunt and both woman gasped at the contact. And then their hips were moving, squirming, writhing...
"Jesus," Jim muttered. "I've never-seen that before."
"They-seem to be enjoying it," the redhead whispered. And then: "Oh, for-goodness sake! I-I'm-"
"What is it, Faye baby?"
"I feel like-I'm-almost-"
"Yeah?"
The pair on the floor were struggling wildly now, and the hoarse sounds of their passion filled the room. The big redhead was squirming on the couch, her thighs opening and closing.
"I can't stand this-much longer," she panted. She stared desperately at his cock. "I-need some help. I'm-so close."
She lurched to her feet and tore off the panties with a single wrench of her hands. Then she was on him, kneeling over him, guiding his cock into her with shaking fingers, driving it home with quick jerking surges of her big hips.
"Ah-h-h-h," she said gustily as she found release, "Ah-h-h-h. I was-so close. Come on, Jim honey. Come hard for me."
But she came again and again, and he was no closer than when they started.
"Get off," he growled. "It's-not going to work this way."
"Do you-want me on the floor?" She was panting from her exertions, and her eyes were anxious.
"No. Let me up, baby. Lie down on the couch now. That's it. Get on your back."
He moved into position with one knee on the floor and the other across her body. He lowered himself until his slime-wet cock was between her breasts. She rolled toward him with quick understanding; her hands pushed her breasts together, enveloping him in soft warm flesh.
"Yes, yes, yes," she crooned softly. "You like them so much. And now you can fuck them. Come on, baby. That's it. Nice and slow. Make it good, Jim baby. Come on, come on."
Its head appeared in the cleft between them, then vanished as his back straightened. Again and again his hips surged, faster and faster, his cock driving like a piston in its soft haven, and at last she felt the burning deep inside him.
"I'm getting there," he panted, but several minutes passed with no further developments. And he was getting frantic in his efforts to achieve an orgasm. He tried her cunt again, slamming his prick into her with frenzied brutality-and to her own amazement she came again with a snarling groan of delight. Then she urged him to return it to her breasts.
But this time-at her suggestion-he knelt in front of the couch. She lay on her side, caught his cock between her breasts-one below and one above.
"Just-the head of it for now," she said hoarsely. 'And-take it easy. Until you're-nearly there. Let me-play with it."
And she rubbed it with the soft smooth flesh, teased it with the resilient nipples, and in a surprisingly short time he was ready. But now it had become so good that he had no desire to end it quickly. So he delayed, squirming and cursing, fucking her between the very tips of her breasts until his body was twitching uncontrollably.
"Now," he breathed, and a terrible spasm wracked him. The thick fluid spurted, furnishing her breasts with a perfect lubricant, and she pressed them tightly together as his cock slid in between them.
"Now!" he repeated. Now! Now! Now!" And each time he spoke another gout of thick milky semen shot in between her breasts. He was fucking them savagely now, his hips jerking wildly, but still he came. She watched while it welled out of the deep crease between them, gleaming on the beautifully curved flesh, smearing her aureoles and nipples-her thighs flailed each other as she joined him with her own orgasm.
But it was over finally, and he collapsed weakly on the floor. She turned onto her back, sighing heavily, and he watched with dazed eyes while she smeared his load over her breasts with trembling hands.
"It feels good," she murmured thickly. "So-slimy and warm. It's the first time it ever happened to me."
"It won't be-the last time," he wheezed, and she choked out a laugh.
"Is that a promise?
"Lady, that's a guarantee."
Betty and Barbie were lying side by side, quietly sharing a cigarette.
"You all right now?" Barbie asked tenderly.
"I'm fine, darling," Betty assured her. "Just fine. It was-glorious." She sat up. "I've got an idea," she announced.
"So?" Jim stretched his legs, decided he could use them, and Faye made room for him as he struggled to a sitting position on the couch.
"Yes, tell us," Barbie urged in her throaty voice.
"Well... Let's all take a bath, and get something to eat-and then we'll open up another bottle and have a party."
Jim groaned theatrically. "I don't know if I can survive a party."
"Oh, come on!" Betty said scornfully. "I know you. Four shots of vodka, and you'll be as good as new." She grinned mischievously. "Only-at this stage of the game your next erection will probably last for hours." She glanced at Faye and raised her eyebrows. "Slowest come in the West," she explained.
"I know," the redhead said fervently, and Barbie laughed. Her eyes were on the other's magnificent breasts.
"He sure gives you your money's worth though, doesn't he. Incidentally, you don't have to get into a rut, you know. I mean-this is going to be a party. Like-feel free to do your own thing. Anything goes."
"I noticed that," Faye said boldly, but her cheeks were hot again.
"What did you think?" Barbie asked curiously.
"I-I don't know."
"Ever try it?"
"No."
"Think you'd like to?"
"Well... " Faye looked confused, and Betty suddenly rose to her feet. She swayed slightly, laughed, and helped Barbie off the floor.
"A bath first, then food-and then we'll have a ball. Don't worry, Faye. Nobody cares what you do, just so you enjoy yourself. Who's going to share the tub with me?"
She glanced at Jim, but he shook his head.
"You girls go ahead. I think I'll find that bottle of vodka-" Betty laughed at that point-"and then I've got to make a phone call."
She nodded. "Good idea, darling. All right, ladies; we'll match for who gets the tub and who gets the shower. Forward-march!"
CHAPTER EIGHT
HE STARED UP into Jonni's exalted face and wondered at the tumult raging inside him. Her tight pulsing cunt was responsible, of course. Her hips were driving it recklessly, her mobile ass bucked and swirled as the clinging lips rode wildly over his cock, and those muscular spasms that clutched him so delightfully were coming very quickly now, and the lovely breasts were jumping.
But still he wondered. A fuck was a fuck was a fuck, to paraphrase Gertrude Stein, but this was something else entirely. He felt as if she were loving his whole body with all of her own; that she held his heart in those sleek writhing hips and shaking breasts and lovely straining thighs, in that supple waist and hot contracting passage. He knew he'd never enjoyed a woman so much in his life. Maybe it was because she went at it so whole-heartedly, with such joyous abandon; maybe it was because there was so much uninhibited happiness in her, turning the lust and carnal passion into something wholesome and altogether beautiful.
But that didn't explain this-this strange feeling of oneness, as though in coupling their bodies they had also joined their hearts and minds. He felt her warmth and strength filling him. He felt the laughter in her stealing into his own being, and the unconditional surrender of her own body to his was more moving even than the tight slippery heat that devoured his cock.
Her hips jerked wildly, flurried with staccato violence, and the thick shimmering hair was a black cloud around her shoulders. She threw back her head, laughed with the joy of her quick triumph-and then the orgasm was turning her into a lovely snarling animal. Its force receded, died-and never in his life had he seen such tenderness in a woman's face.
"Jonni," he croaked. "Oh, Jonni."
"Yes. Yes, my darling."
Then he was pulling her down beside him, turning with her, mounting her as a man should mount a woman, sliding his cock into her with sure, deliberate strokes, bending his lower back to send the head skidding over her cervix, shifting his weight forward to force the retreating shaft against her clitoris.
And she was moving with him, an instinct as old as time itself guiding her hips in their perfectly timed pattern. She was a lovely fuck, a glorious fuck, and in her hot pulsating pussy was the expression of her passionate spirit and her body's sleek perfection. She was more than pleasure, more than physical delight, more than joy even.
"Oh Jesus," he groaned.
"Come on, darling," she panted eagerly. "Let me- have it all."
"No, baby. No, no. Not yet. I'm not-even close."
Her delighted laughter gurgled in his ears. "I'm so glad. It's so lovely, so-lovely. I wish... "
"Yes, beautiful?"
"Oh, I wish... I wish we could just-go on like this forever."
He slowed his pace, loving her with the full length of his cock.
"You're feeling it too," he said quietly, and it wasn't a question.
Her eyes were wide and happy and completely fearless. "Yes," she whispered. "It's-crazy, isn't it."
"No," he said huskily. "It may be-a number of things, but it's not crazy."
"I think we have a good deal to talk about, my darling.
"We do for a fact. But-later, baby."
"Yes. Oh, yes. Later."
He shifted his weight to his left elbow, thereby freeing his right hand for more intimate work. She turned with him slightly, her sensuous hips answering his cock's slow caress. Her thighs stroked him; her right hand curled behind his neck while the other moved over him, and that deep tenderness still lingered in her lovely face.
"It's so good," she whispered. "So good."
"Yes, baby."
"I feel as though-"
"Yes, Jonni? Tell me, baby."
"Oh, it's crazy."
"Tell me anyway."
"I feel-as though- I had all of you inside me. But -that's not it exactly. It's like-feeling what you feel. And knowing what you want because that's what I want too. It's-almost like part of your mind has-invaded me, along with-this... "
"Yeah," he muttered, sheathing his cock in her slowly writhing body. "Yeah, baby. I know, I know."
"Am I good for you? Am I-what you want? Ah-h-h-h. Do that-again."
"Like this, doll face?"
"Yes! Oh-yes. But you haven't-answered me, darling."
"How can I? You're the most there is, China doll. Maybe-"
"Maybe?"
"Maybe you're all there is. It's-sort of crazy for me too."
He studied her beautiful ecstatic face and her lovely undulating body. His hand caressed her; he marveled at her warmth and smoothness, at the firm muscularity of her soft-sheathed body, at the flawless skin and the matchless shape of her.
"What's happening?" she whispered.
"Don't you know, baby?" He knew his voice was thick and guttural, and he didn't give a damn.
"I think I do. But it's not-logical, is it?"
"Maybe it is. Maybe it's very-logical."
Her soft laughter warmed him. "But-so primitive, darling. This is the way-the cave people found each other."
"So much-for civilization.
"Ah, darling. I like to hear all that-passion-in your voice. And the lust, too. I-love the lust. Oh, darling."
He was teasing her with the head of his prick, holding it at the entrance while her hips surged slowly, caressing him with the soft warm flesh of her vulva.
"I'm-going to be crazy again," she panted.
"Good, good."
"I want you to-put it all the way in. And keep it there. And hold me close."
"Yeah, baby."
"And-love me hard, darling. Love me hard."
He slowly slid it into her, and she gasped as the long thick shaft invaded her. His right hand held the sweet volatile ass; he gloried in its soft smoothness, in the squirming movement of its powerful muscles. Her long legs slid over his, and her arms were around him.
"Now," she said. "Love me, darling. Love me, love me.
It was just like the last time-only it was so different! And this time Jonni set the pace, and then-struggle gained momentum almost immediately. She'd used a wild freewheeling movement in their previous encounter, but now she kept her hips against him, leaving his cock buried to the hilt while she caressed him with body and heart and mind. Not that there was any lack of movement. On the contrary, their engagement was every bit as violent as before. But this time they coupled their entire bodies, writhing and grinding and squirming until her hoarse gusty moans told him of her latest triumph.
Then he lifted himself slightly, and began to fuck her with a savage abandon that told her he was driving toward the end, that this would continue until he erupted into her, that she was being challenged.
And she met it with all the strength and vitality and joy in her superb body, giving as well as she got, rejoicing in the wild brutality of his assault-in the hot glaring eyes that blazed at her, in the contorted face and frenzied hips.
"Oh yes," she growled. "Yes, yes, yes. Tear me, darling. Rip me, love me, fuck me." And the feeling of unlimited power returned to her, with a supreme confidence in herself and in her body and in her capacity to love.
"I'm going to come," she told him, almost snarling the words. "Come with me, my own. Let's-end it together."
"Soon baby. Oh God-Jonni."
"Tell me! Tell me! Am I good for you? Tell me!"
"Ah honey, you're the best there is. You're the best -fuck-in all this world. Ah God I'm close, I'm close."
"Come on, come on."
"Jonni, Jonni, Jonni."
"Darling."
"Baby?"
"Oh, yes!"
"Jonni. Now, oh Jesus Christ-now! Now! Now!"
"Ah-h-h-h."
"Darling," she murmured drowsily, "are you all right?"
"Yeah, baby. Aside from being the shattered remains of what was formerly a pretty good man, I'm fine."
She laughed softly, and her fingers were cool against his face. "You came so hard, and you were so-enthusiastic."
"How about that? You were pretty active yourself, doll face."
"Was I? Was I, darling?"
"Uh-huh. If I hadn't been hanging onto your- "Yes? Hanging onto my?"
He kissed her lightly, and looked into the soft dark wonder of her eyes. "Onto the sweetest ass in Southern California, Jonni. If I'd lost my grip, you'd have thrown me off onto the floor."
"Maybe I will next time."
"Maybe so, doll face. You're welcome to keep trying."
"I'll keep trying. Won't I?" The dark eyes were very serious.
"I sure as hell hope so."
There was something wrong with this set-up, he told himself vaguely. He'd felt it almost from the start. She'd certainly been ready for him when he came into the bedroom, had welcomed him with open arms and thighs and-so forth. But when she opened her eyes too she'd screamed, and that could have been real terror in her face. But he'd thought the rape business was part of the game she was playing. A face-saving game, he'd figured, but now he wasn't a damn bit sure. And there'd been the phone call, that business about her friend.
They lay on their sides, her legs embracing him, and his depleted cock was still caught in the warm pocket of her cunt. She'd have to get up soon; he could already feel the slop oozing out of her. And while she was in the shower he could give Frank a call, find out exactly what he'd gotten into. Figuratively speaking.
"What is it, darling?" she asked softly. "What's the matter?"
"Jonni," he asked suddenly, "are you married?"
She surprised him with her delighted laughter. "Is that it? Oh, baby." And then she was kissing him, wildly and passionately, and he was more bewildered than ever. He pushed her away, but very gently.
"Come on, now," he growled. "I've got to know. Are you?"
"No. No, dearest. I'm not married. I've never been married. Are you going to-"
"Don't put me on, damn it. I'm serious. Are you married?"
"I'm not putting you on-and I certainly hope you're serious." The beautiful tilted eyes were still laughing at him, and her mouth was tender.
"Jonni," he said thoughtfully. The name didn't ring a bell. And this gorgeous little doll wasn't even married. She could have given him a phony name, of course- and that would have been understandable.
"Honey," he said hesitantly, "I know it's pretty early for me to start asking questions, but... "
"But who was I expecting when you came in and- made yourself at home?" She smiled. "I don't think it's too early. After I have a couple of questions too. But I think they can wait until after we've had our bath. Don't you?"
"Sure, but-"
"All right, I'll tell you this much. I've been-sharing my bed with somebody, and I was expecting him. Things haven't been going so well for us lately, and I suppose I was trying to-make myself desirable. Now I know what the trouble really was, but I didn't until- just a little while ago."
"Honey, listen! I don't care-"
"Let me finish. I was afraid it was all over between my-my friend and me, and now I'm glad it is. And I've got to say this too, darling. In spite of the evidence, I'm not a tramp."
"I know that. You didn't have to say it, baby." He knew something else, too. This was the wrong apartment, and the wrong girl-and he couldn't have been happier about it. "Then-you really aren't married," he muttered.
"Not even a little bit. Look, this may be a bit unconventional, but it's nothing to get uptight about."
"I'm not, honey. Don't get mad-"
"We sort of-experimented, and it hasn't worked out. I was just getting ready to give it the old college try, understand?"
"Don't lose your cool, baby. I just-"
"If you're wondering if I make a habit of this sort of thing-"
"Now he was laughing. "Baby, baby. Cool off, damn it. And-don't bounce around like that, for Christ's sake!"
"I-I see what you mean. Can you-get me another towel?"
"Sure, honey. Here. Uh-need any help?
"No thank you!"
"Yeah. Uh. All set, beautiful?"
"For the moment. And since we're doing the third degree bit. Just what are you doing here? Besides the obvious, I mean." She blushed then, and he saw that she was fighting a smile.
"Well. That's a long story, China doll."
"I'll bet. And we'll get back to it. But first, here's the sixty-four dollar question. Are you married?"
"Well, damn it-"
"Oh, darling!"
He stared into her stricken face and his heart lurched. What was the matter with him, anyway! With both of them.
"It's not as bad as it sounds," he said awkwardly.
"Goody," she said dully, and he thought she was going to cry.
"I mean... It was over a long time ago, honey. We just haven't-"
"She doesn't understand you, I bet. Let me up, damn you. I've tried not to go have my head examined. And don't manhandle me!"
"You just lie here and listen! I love you, damn it! I can't help being married, but that doesn't-"
"Wait! Read that-that first bit back to me. From- 'lie here and listen.' I don't think I got that part."
"Oh. Well, I said 'I love you,' and then-"
"That's the bit. Let's hear it again."
He held her close, swept the thick black hair away from her face, and kissed her. "It's crazy," he muttered.
"So let's be crazy."
"I meant that. I do love you, Jonni."
"I believe you do. And that's good, because you're stuck with me. But what about your-please excuse the term-wife?"
"Oh, yeah. Well, she-"
"Yeah, her."
"Hell, Jonni-she's just as sick of me as I am of her. We're-"
"Silly girl."
"How's that?"
"Nothing, dearest. What were you saying?"
"We're planning a divorce, doll. Or we were. We'd have had it all over with by now, I think, but there's a lot of money involved."
"What's money got to do with it?"
"It's money that's coming to me. I think she's waiting to see what her cut will be."
"Community property?"
"That's it."
"Do you care, darling."
"About the money? In a way, I do. I want to make a cash settlement."
She pushed at him until he lay flat on his back, and then she leaned over him with the tips of those gorgeous breasts flattened against his chest.
"Are you going to move in with me?" she asked, trying to keep it casual.
"No, doll face."
"No?" She avoided his eyes while she waited for him to speak.
"We'll find another place. I wouldn't like it here."
"Neither would I. And that was the right answer, darling."
He ruffled the mane of hair. "Are you checking me out, sweetheart?"
"You certainly checked me out. We won't have to wait for your divorce, or anything silly like that?"
"Not if you don't mind living in sin."
"I don't mind."
"That's good, because we might have to wait a while."
"How long?"
"She's talking about Reno. But the money thing won't be settled for... It might be three or four months, baby. Too long to wait."
"Much too long. Where are we going to live, dearest?"
"Oh, anywhere you want," he said carelessly. "How about the beach?"
"The beach sounds wonderful. But it can't be too far away, can it. I mean-we have to make a living.' "What do you do, Jonni?"
"So far I'm a dancer. Exotic type."
"Yeah, it figures all right. Well, forget it. You're going to retire."
"Retire!"
"Sure, retire. You're going to have your hands full, just looking after me. Besides, I don't want my wife prancing around half-naked while a bunch of-"
"Your what?" She was sitting up now, staring down at him, and her face was pale. "How-how did that go again?"
His face grew still and his tone was suddenly very impersonal. "Sorry," he said carefully. "I thought that's what we were talking about. Maybe I-"
"Oh we were, we were!"
He gazed up at her, wondering how a woman could laugh while the tears were streaming down her face.
"Then what the hell's all the excitement? You want a formal invitation? All right, so-" But she'd thrown herself on him and was kissing him again, and the salt taste of her tears was on his lips. "I love you," she whispered brokenly. "I don't know you, and I don't care. But I love you."
"That makes it nice," he said dryly, and her laughter held a trace of hysteria.
"You don't care-that you're Caucasian and I'm Chinese?"
"Hell no, do you?"
"No, no."
"And I thought it was half Chinese-not that I give a damn. Can you cook?"
"Picky, picky," she said in a muffled voice.
He raised her up at arm's length, and his smiling eyes went to her breasts. "I'll wash your back," he offered craftily.
"That's not my back, you lecher."
"So I'll wash those too."
"You're on. But-just answer me one question, all right?"
"All right. Just one, though."
"One will do for now. What were you doing here?"
"Oh, that."
"That, yes." Her mouth was smiling, but he saw a hint of worry in the dark eyes.
"Well honey, that's a long story too."
"I've got lots of time."
"I-uh- came up here to-do a job."
"You did it, all right. Yes sir. A fine job it was, too."
"Uh-thanks, doll. Well, I guess we can-"
"Thank you."
"Get serious, damn it."
"I'm very serious. Oh boy, am I serious. So. What brought you up here?"
"Well, I just happened to be wandering by."
"I'll bet you had an assignation, and blundered into the wrong apartment." She saw the startled expression in his eyes, and laughed delightedly. "All right, darling. I don't care. Just so that's the last of those mistakes."
"It will be," he assured her fervently. "I'll tell you all about it some day."
"Damn right you will," she promised. "No, don't- bother to get up. Not yet. There are a couple of details I have to-take care of before we take our shower. I'll call you, all right?"
He watched her rump-swinging progress across the room, and raised his eyes when she stopped at the door. She adjusted the towel-blushing-and grinned at him over her shoulder.
"One more question, okay?"
"Just one more."
"What's your name, baby? Don't you think it's time you told me?" And the sound of her happy laughter was like the sweetest music he'd ever heard.
He grinned back. "It's Joe, doll face. Joe Killeen."
Her eyes widened. "You're-Joe Killeen? The author?"
"Yeah, I'm one of 'em."
"Oh."
"Don't let it throw you, gorgeous. It's honest work."
"I-I won't let it throw me. And I'll be-Mrs. Joe Killeen?"
"If you'll do me that honor, baby."
"Oh, I'll do it, all right." She disappeared, but a moment later her head came around the door jamb, the long black hair swirling. "Hey, Mister famous author. I've got a good title for your next book."
"Good, let's hear it."
"'Out of the Frying Pan,'" she said blithely, and the head vanished. He heard her singing as she hurried down the hall.
Joe shook his head in an effort to clear it, and took one of her cigarettes from a pack on the nightstand. It was like a dream, he told himself. The girl was gorgeous. She had the finest body he'd ever seen, and he'd never imagined that skin could be so clear and smooth and soft. But it was just as she'd said: he had his cock in her before she'd ever laid eyes on him. He'd fucked her twice before she thought to ask his name, and he'd never seen her wearing more than a hand towel stuffed up between her thighs.
At this moment she was washing his load out of her tight little cunt-yet he didn't even know her last name. Or how old she was, or even what she was. She was lovely. But in this town lovely young women were a dime a dozen. More or less. She was deeply passionate, but so were a lot of other people. She was a truly magnificent piece of ass-but he'd known women who were far more experienced, more knowing and skillful, and presumably more entertaining. Theoretically, at least.
The fact that this one had thrilled him so, had created such havoc with his mind and heart and body, was only part of the mystery confronting him. The rest of it was that he didn't care about all those other things. The simple truth was that he wanted her. Suddenly it was very important to him that she understand his need for her, that it hadn't been generated by the comfortable afterglow of a rousing fuck. Not entirely, anyway.
He got off the bed and padded down the hall. The bathroom door was ajar; he could hear her humming happily to herself as he opened the door-and the humming broke off with a startled exclamation. She was sitting on the toilet, and the big dark eyes stared up at him in dismay.
"Really," she began, but he held up a placating hand.
"This is important," he told her hurriedly, managing to keep his gaze on her face. "What I said in there-"
"Yes?" Her eyes had clouded.
"I know it sounds wild, but-I meant every word of it. Will you marry me, Jonni?"
She looked dazed. "Will I?"
"Marry me. Yeah."
She fumbled blindly for the toilet paper, but the little cardboard cylinder yielded only a couple of squares before it ran out. She stared blankly at the scrap of tissue while his eyes devoured her. She was leaning slightly forward. The balls of her feet were on the floor; the heels were high, elevating her knees slightly, and the lines of her ankles flowed smoothly into the arched feet.
"You've got beautiful legs," he muttered.
"Thank you. I-"
"And-your breasts."
"You-you asked me a question, I believe."
"As a matter of fact, you're the loveliest thing I ever saw."
"Sitting-on the pot?" The dazed expression was leaving her eyes, and they began to sparkle. A deep blush suffused her face, but the full-lipped mouth suggested a smile.
"Yeah. Sitting on the pot-or anywhere else. Will you? Marry me, I mean."
"Of course. I-seem to be out of-toilet paper."
"I'll get it. Where do you keep it-under the basin?"
"Yes, but... "
"Here you go, sweetheart. Want me to-uh-put it on the roller for you?"
"I can manage. Are you-just going to stand there?"
"Yeah. Well, I-uh-can't think of anything better to do. At the moment."
She raised her hands and let them fall limply on her thighs. "This figures," she whispered. "To top it all off, he proposes to me while I'm... "
"Taking a crap?" He supplied helpfully.
"Joe!
"Well?"
"Well... "
"Look at it this way, honey. How many other women can make that claim?"
"None! I can say that with absolute certainly. I'm the only one. Now. Are you going to leave?" She was reeling some paper off the roll, but her dancing eyes were on his face.
And his face was serious. "Hell no, I'm not going to leave. The Killeens are made of stern stuff. This story would lose all its flavor if it ever got out that I turned tail at the last moment."
"Hm-m-m. I'm the one who's got to turn."
"How's that, honey?"
And now she smiled, shaking her head at him while the long black hair shimmered in the fluorescent light. "All I can say is that we're going to have a very uninhibited marriage."
"They're the best kind."
"I suppose so. But there must be thousands of women-millions, maybe-who've never-ah... "
"Taken a crap."
"Yes, who've never-taken a crap-with a male audience."
"You're one of the favored few. Might as well use that," he added, nodding at the folded paper in her hands.
"I suppose so. Are you sure you want to marry me?"
"Damn right, I'm sure."
"Well." She glanced at the paper in her right hand, hesitated-and then thrust it back between her thighs. He admired the smooth muscles in her arm and shoulder-and then she was reeling off some more paper, folding it and rumpling it in her hands, shoving it back past her pussy, spreading her thighs while the beautifully arched feet lifted her knees a little higher.
"I didn't know that's how they do it," he said soberly.
"Who? Do what? Oh."
"Women. Wipe their-"
"I know, I know. Well, now you've learned something. Say."
"Yeah, baby?"
"You've never seen a woman wipe her...?"
"Never," he assured her. "Before now, that is."
"This is a milestone in your life, then."
"That's what it is."
"And it's a point in your favor, I suppose." She flushed the toilet, and sat there staring at him defiantly until the water began flowing back into the bowl. Then she got up, and his gut tightened in response to her lithe beauty.
"Oh, golly," she said suddenly. "I almost forgot. I've got to feed Rodrigo."
"Who the hell is Rodrigo?"
She flashed him a quick grin as she washed her hands at the sink. "I'll introduce you," she told him, and started past him to the door. But a smooth warm hip nudged him on the way by, and in no time at all the situation was getting complicated. She leaned back in his arms, gasping, and her eyes were shining.
"My-goodness," she murmured breathlessly. "I think I'd like another one of those."
So he kissed her again. And once more. And his hands were caressing her here and there. But finally she broke away.
"Rodrigo," she panted, sweeping a thick rope of hair over her shoulder. "He's-got to have his supper."
"Yeah. Good old Rodrigo."
"Well, he's hungry. I know he is, because he's always hungry. Come on."
She took his hand and led him into the living room, and to a light Chinese screen standing opposite the window.
"I don't want him to get too much sunlight," she explained, and he watched the play of superbly conditioned muscles while moving the screen aside. "There he is," she said diffidently. "I hope you aren't one of those oddballs who doesn't like fish."
The screen had concealed a fifty-gallon glass tank, and in the tank was a fish. A large ornery looking fish with dark orange-red splashes of color on an olive-and-black background.
He leaned, studying the fish carefully, while Rodrigo stared balefully back at him. At last he straightened.
"What do you think?" she asked casually. "Ah-you don't mind if Rodrigo lives with us, do you? He's really a very-"
"Rodrigo's name ought to be Carmen," he informed her. "Dolores, maybe. But definitely not Rodrigo."
"Oh, come on! Rodrigo's a boy fish!"
"No, honey. The chances are nine out of ten this kid is a girl."
She regarded the fish solemnly, glanced at Joe-and shook her head. "No," she said positively. "See the way he's staring at you? He'd be blushing if his name were Carmen. Or Dolores."
"A poor argument. You aren't blushing."
"I'm getting used to it. I think." Whereupon she blushed and lifted her hands to her cheeks. "See?" she muttered, and giggled.
"Good point," he conceded, "but misleading in this case."
"But Joe, that's an oscar-"
"I know it's an oscar."
"And nobody can tell the sex of an oscar. Just by looking."
"I can," he said loftily. "It's a feeling I have. Besides, I've got a male about that size, and-"
"Oh, Joe! You have? How wonderful! Then-you don't mind Rodrigo?"
"I think Carmen is beautiful. Say, doll; do you suppose your oscar-"
"And your oscar?"
"Would hit it off? Like-mate, I mean?"
She slipped an arm around his waist and tilted her laughing face up to him. "Darling," she assured him, "they're made for each other. They've got to be."
CHAPTER NINE
"WHAT DO YOU think of the play?" Barbie's tone was casual, but Faye sensed that she was waiting anxiously for Jim's answer. That must mean that Jim's opinion counted for something. She hoped it did. She knew he liked her, and that would have an important influence on her immediate future. And besides, he was-very good for her. And he was so handsome.
"The slave girl bit was very effective. But-do you mind a suggestion?" He set the empty glass on the smoking stand beside his chair, and shoved his legs out in front of him.
Barbie rolled onto her left hip and propped herself on an elbow. Betty had spread a cotton blanket in the middle of the living room floor; now she and Barbie shared it. Barbie dragged on her cigarette, but Faye knew she was watching Jim's face from under her lashes.
"I don't mind," she said carelessly.
"The sales pitch is excellent," he said slowly. "It's the next bit that bothers me."
"When the curtain comes up? Ostensibly surprising the Caliph and the girl during intercourse? Hell, Jim, fornication on stage has been done before."
"Sure it has-and we'll get back to that in a minute. Question: is the guy naked?"
"Well... "
He should be, Barbie. And you'll have to give him time to get undressed, and-prepared for his part. I'd suggest some business out front, like-two harem girls meeting in the garden, discussing the Caliph. Then the curtain rises, and there he is."
"Doing his thing."
"Right."
"It's a little harder to fake when they're both naked. But we could do it, of course. Personally, I think-"
"We'll get back to that, too. Betty?" He held out his glass, smiling, and Betty sighed.
"Faye's got the bottle, darling. Ask her."
The redhead rose from the couch and picked up the bottle. They watched her in silence as she crossed the room-hips swaying and incredible breasts jiggling- and he kissed the pink tip of the nearest one while she refilled his glass. She smiled warmly, presented the other one for a second kiss, and he grinned at her big beautiful ass as she returned to the couch.
"The play," Barbie reminded him impatiently.
"Oh, of course. Well. As you say, Barbie, it's been done before."
"So?"
"You'd really stand them on their ears if you could give them the real thing. Have a bed on stage, see- and put them on it while the curtain's down. Throw a spot on them so there's no misunderstanding."
"You mean-have them actually fucking? Before a live audience?"
"Why not? It's just about all there is left. Well, almost all." He grinned at her, and she looked thoughtful.
"Do you think it's-possible? I mean... I'm no expert, but I doubt if many men could-ah... "
"Produce an erection in those circumstances? I could."
"And-keep it up for six performances a week?" She appeared doubtful. "Besides, how could you do it so the entire audience would know it was for real?"
"Easy. In the first place, the Caliph is a Moslem. He'd probably want the girl on top, but he might want to take her from behind. You know, dog-fashion. Then there'd be no doubt in anyone's mind." He grinned again. "If you don't believe it, I'll prove it to you before the evening's over."
"Watch out," Betty said lazily. "He's a tiger on rare sirloin with mushrooms. And he ate two, remember."
"Picture it in your mind," he continued. "Faye's kneeling there on the bed. She's got her knees pretty well forward, see-and you set the background so she'll be clearly outlined. He's behind her-and he takes it slow at first, with long strokes. The spot picks up the juice on his cock, and they see the lips of her pussy on the backstroke. Baby, you'll have standing room only for your second performance."
"M-me?" Faye quavered, but her thighs were tingling.
"Sure, honey. We'll show 'em, won't we? Man, those Moslems know how to live. And they're still entitled to four wives each, you know."
Faye's dazed mind groped for something to say. "Four-wives? But isn't that sort of-immoral, or something?"
"Immoral?" He sipped at his drink while he considered the question-and her big agitated breasts. "I don't think so. For some men the polygamy concept is the only satisfactory answer. They have an infinite capacity for love, and can actually love several with a fierce intensity, thus distributing the passion that our law would force him to focus on one. No woman is capable of returning this much love. So in polygamy such a man finds fulfillment. And life is much simpler for him, since his world is not bound up in one person, but in several. He is not overly solicitous toward any one of them-the Great American Folly- and consequently they achieve a logical sense of perspective. It should work out very well."
"Get him," Barbie said scornfully, but Betty was smiling.
"What about women?" she asked lightly. "A good woman can wear out several men. Shouldn't the same concept apply?"
He gave it some thought. "I don't know," he admitted finally. "Only a woman could offer a valid opinion. How about it?"
She turned so that her slim whiteness fitted itself against Barbie's back. Her hand slid forward over Barbie's hip, down to her flat belly, and finally to her breasts.
"I think it's delightful," she said softly. "I already have two lovers. You, and Barbie. The fact is that I need you both. If it weren't for Barbie, I doubt that even you would be enough for me, darling."
"That's the only reason I tolerate her," he said dryly, but Faye didn't think Barbie was offended. "But Betty baby, aren't you forgetting someone?"
"Who?" Her hand was moving down Barbie's belly again, and the rangy girl was showing signs of agitation.
"Your husband, damn it. Jesus, you broads are only proving my point."
"My husband is a jerk," she said definitely. "He believes in the one man, one woman concept. He doesn't take into consideration that a woman needs variety, that her-productive years are relatively few, and that marriage is a hell of a long way from slavery."
"That works both ways," he pointed out, his eyes on her face.
"Granted. I told him that. I even offered to double-date with him, just to make it sporting. But-he's a jerk. And I want to talk about something else."
"Good," Barbie said unsteadily. "Let's talk about my play."
Jim held up his hand. "We'll get back to it," he promised, "but first I'd like to ask a couple of questions. Do you mind if I get rather personal, Barbie?"
"Does it have anything to do with my play?"
"Indirectly."
"Then I don't mind."
Betty's hand had found its way to the tall girl's pubis. Now Barbie covered the hand with her own while Jim watched with increasing interest.
"Fair enough," he said. "Tell me, Barbie, why do you make love with women?"
"That's a silly question if I ever heard-"
"Are you a lesbian? If you are, you're the damndest lesbian I ever heard of. As you may recall, I have good reason to know you're a damn good fuck. So I don't get it-"
"Sure, I am. And I suck a mean cock, and now and then I take it in the ass. So that makes me good company, doesn't it. Why should you give a damn?"
"I don't, really. I was just wondering."
"So stop wondering." She'd turned onto her back, and now she separated her thighs. Her hand urged Betty's hand in between them. Faye saw the long fingers curling, moving, and Barbie's feet whispered over the soft blanket as she drew up her knees.
"I like sex," said Barbie clearly. "All kinds of sex. I like to watch, and I like to-participate." Her knees sagged farther apart. The small of her back flattened against the floor as her hips tilted upward. "Sometimes it's men, and sometimes-it's women. Only lately it's- just been Betty."
"Her voice slowed, and the words were slurring together. "I like-female bodies. And I like to have a woman's hands on me. Then I don't have to-be anything but myself. I can relax, and-just sort of surrender myself to sensation. It's out of this world."
The slim, almost boyish hips were moving. Her voice was little more than a whisper. "Ever watch-a woman -being frigged by another woman, Jim?"
"Can't say that I have. But now that I know what it's like-"
"Yes? Ah, Betty. Sweetheart."
"I think you ought to write something of the sort into your play."
"You-do?" The hips were squirming openly now, and her thighs were trembling.
"Hell yes. I'm starting to get a hard-on, and I've been pretty active today. What do you think, Faye baby?"
"I-I... "
Jim laughed. "Loosen up, honey. You ought to come over here, so you can see what's going on."
"You want-to see?" Barbie panted. "All right. Let's move, darling. Faye-wants to see."
The two women wriggled and squirmed until they lay across the blanket, and Faye was staring at the linked hands between those shaking thighs. Barbie's hand drifted away and only Betty's remained, the long white fingers stroking the wet pouting lips.
"That-makes it even better," Barbie mumbled. "Before-we're finished-she'll have all four fingers in me. Because it's-awfully hard-for me to come."
Her hands were in her hair now, and her head rolled slowly from side to side. Her thighs strained; the curling back held her ass well clear of the floor, and her hips hunched slowly in response to the stroking fingers. Faye saw that her cunt was wide open; the unusually thick inner lips gaped slackly, and two of Betty's fingers were out of sight.
And now Barbie was moaning desperately. "Oh God. I want to come, I want to come. It's so hard. And I came-twice-before."
Her whole body was jerking, convulsed with long wracking shudders that forced sobs of anguish from her open mouth. Her eyes glared wildly at Faye, her hands reached out beseechingly and her face was twisted with agony. "Please, please, please. Help me."
The big girl got to her feet. "What can I do?" she asked uncertainly.
"Come down here," Betty said urgently. "There, on the other side of her. I've never seen her this bad. You've got to help me. There's another way, of course, but-she doesn't want that now."
Faye sank to the floor, supporting herself on her right hand and a well-rounded haunch. She looked into Barbie's glazed eyes, and felt the woman's uncontrolled passion reaching out to her. Without hesitation she began caressing the taut breasts with her left hand.
Faye lowered herself to her elbow, gazing at the small erect nipples. Almost against her will she lowered her head, opened her lips, and sucked the left one into her mouth. In less than a minute Barbie started to come.
It was a memorable event. She screamed hoarsely, then growled insanely through her teeth while the rangy body heaved violently. Finally she sighed tremulously, straightened her legs, and glanced up at Faye's wet swollen mouth.
"Thanks," she whispered. "That-doesn't happen very often. But a woman's hand makes me a little crazy."
"Don't mention it," Faye muttered. She still had the taste of Barbie's nipples in her mouth, and the feel of that firm flesh between her lips. And the disturbing knowledge that she'd enjoyed it.
"Ever-suck a woman's tits before?"
"No. No, I never did."
Barbie watched her a moment longer, and smiled warmly. "I'm glad you felt like it tonight. You're a pussy cat, and I'm grateful. Now how about a drink? And then it's me for the shower again."
"Me too," Betty admitted, and returned Barbie's smile.
"I-I think maybe... " Faye broke off in confusion.
"You too?" Barbie's eyes were speculative. "Never mind, honey. No reason to be ashamed of a little excitement. Hell, we'll all go take a shower. After we have that drink. What's so funny, darling?"
Betty nodded, and the other women followed her glance. Jim sat slouched in the chair, his long legs shoved out in front of him. The big cock towered over his lean belly. He grinned at them and wrapped his right hand around it.
Betty laughed again. "That's what I call an appreciative audience."
Jim sighed in mock resignation, and slowly pumped his hand. "Three bare-assed women in the crowd," he said mournfully, "and here I am beating my meat. There's no justice."
"Don't get carried away," Betty advised him. "We'd like to watch, darling. But the last time you did that it took almost an hour. Maybe we can speed things up. Faye honey, you didn't actually come, did you?"
"No."
"Then why don't you give Jim a hand, the poor baby. You can see how anxious he is."
"You mean-jack him off?"
"It was only a figure of speech, dear."
Barbie sat up, twisting her body to view the turgid prick. "It's awfully big," she observed thoughtfully. "I think Faye needs a bit more preparation."
"But."
"Never mind, sweet. Barbie knows best." She got up, a little unsteadily perhaps, and pulled the big redhead to her feet. "Come over to the couch, honey. Barbie's going to return the favor she owes you. Sit down, now. Scoot your ass this way a little while I get this damn coffee table out of the way. There, now. You do just as Barbie tells you, and don't be afraid. You're going to love this."
She knelt in front of the trembling redhead and pushed the big girl's knees apart.
"An eye for an eye," she murmured, "a kiss for a kiss. Lift your thighs, baby. Higher than that. Oh come on, sweetheart. They know what a woman's pussy looks like. Lean back now."
With her hands she forced the big shapely thighs over the girl's body. Faye spread them recklessly, giggling hysterically as she hooked her hands behind her knees, and the long fleshy cunt stood open. Faye wriggled her hips, thrusting her pretty ass to the edge of the couch, and now both women were quivering. Barbie leaned forward, sliding her arms under those widespread shaking thighs, and each of her hands found a big resilient breast. She bent her head.
Barbie opened her mouth. The long pink tongue leaped out, flickered upward over those widely separated lips, darted into the softly wrinkled flesh protruding between them-and Faye's body jerked as if she'd been caressed with a lighted match. Barbie bent her head again, and the tip of her tongue stabbing at Faye's hair-fringed anus-and then the stroking tongue rose in a lingering cunt-length caress that had the big girl gasping.
Barbie repeated the stroke-again and again- opening the thrusting cunt-flesh with each skillful caress. The soft inner lips gaped slackly, dark and swollen with engorged blood, and the long tongue could bury itself in the wet flesh. Now Barbie changed her tactics, driving her tongue deep and lingering at the upper end of her stroke, her head moving.
Faye's hips were keeping time with the probing tongue. "Ah-h-h-h," she moaned brokenly. "Ah-h-h, ah-h-h-h. Oh, my-goodness. I think-I'm-going to come."
Instantly the tongue left her clitoris. Now Barbie opened her mouth wide. She placed it over the glistening cunt; her cheeks hollowed. And Faye shuddered as Barbie slowly raised her head, as the soft flesh oozed from her caressing mouth, as her lips closed on it- stroking it tenderly until the last fold of slippery pink-ness escaped them. The wide-lipped mouth opened again, descended, filled itself with hot pulsing cunt. This time her head stayed down. Her throat worked; her cheeks hollowed and filled, hollowed and filled-- and Faye's gasping moans were a continuing paean of ecstasy.
Suddenly her voice came to them, clear and strong. "I'm coming," she told them-and then, her voice rising: "I'm coming-so hard!" And then she yelled wildly. "I'm coming! Oh-God. I'm coming! Oh Lord. I'm coming!"
Now the voracious mouth slid upward. Barbie's head was moving steadily now, and all of them knew that the long demanding tongue had returned to Faye's clitoris. Barbie's kneading right hand abandoned the lush left breast and moved to the crack of the big girl's writhing ass. Her thumb teased the puckered anus, prodding gently-insistently-and soon the tip of it disappeared.
Barbie's mouth was slack now, and by craning his neck Jim could see the movement of her tongue. The tortured cunt gaped, the long tongue was merciless, the thumb probed-and Faye was babbling in short broken phrases that were completely unintelligible. Jim readily understood what Barbie was up to. She was letting her breath funnel along her tongue, keeping it and the exposed clitoris relatively dry, and the resulting friction was sending shivering stabs of rapture through the redhead's magnificent body. He saw also that Barbie's thumb had finally buried itself in her asshole, that the hand was moving. He felt a warm hand on his thigh and found that Betty had crawled to his chair. The hand moved on to his cock; wise fingers teased its throbbing head-but her eyes were on the couch.
"Look at her pussy now, darling," she said hoarsely. "See how loose it is? And Barbie's face is covered with her slime. Think how hot and soft it must be. Just the way you like it. Wouldn't you like to shove this big lovely prick into it, my own?"
"Are you-serious?"
"Certainly, I'm serious. I'm not narrow-minded, except when you're away from me. I love seeing you enjoy yourself. And less than two hours ago I saw you fucking her. I didn't mind."
"But-that was different. You were pretty well occupied yourself."
"I know. But I think it would be fascinating to-to just sit here and watch you. Or-perhaps you wouldn't mind if I sat over there on the couch so I could be near you. And you'd better hurry. If you wait much longer, Barbie will burn her out."
His hand closed over hers and they both pumped at his cock. "I've got to do something," he conceded unsteadily. "How about you? Don't you want to screw- or something?"
"Later, baby. But first I want to watch you with her."
"Fair enough. But we've got to get Barbie away from her."
"That's no problem. Watch how simple it is."
Betty got to her feet and swayed over to the couch. She sat down near the squirming redhead, lay back against the cushions, and lifted her bent knees over her body. Her hands curled over the knees, flung the slim thighs wide, and a delicately arched foot nudged Barbie's shoulder.
"Hey, buddy," she drawled thickly. "How about latchin' onto this."
Jim stared at the familiar soft-lipped pussy. He was sorely tempted, was even moving toward her-but Barbie was there before him. She had only to move a few feet, slip her arms around Betty's compact hips- and then the ravenous mouth descended.
Betty sighed luxuriously. "Oh, that's good," she whispered. "So good." Her eyes burned into his. "What are you waiting for?" She gasped. She nodded at the wheezing redhead. "There it is, come ram your cock into it."
So that's what he did. Faye didn't change her position when he sank to his knees in front of her, when he positioned the head of his prick in her flaring cunt-or when he sheathed it in her with a single lunge of his lean hips. He slid his arms inside her thighs, curled his hands over the generous swell of her hips, and with this excellent leverage he began fucking her with full cock-length strokes.
Faye grunted with pleasure each time the long thick cock plunged into her. Her hands released their hold; she rested the calves of her legs on his shoulders, and crossed her ankles behind his neck. Her hands moved to the cheeks of that big beautiful ass, gripped them. And she came wildly, the couch creaking with the violence of her convulsions.
His cock drove faster, ramming into the loosened cunt with wet squishing noises that brought a heavy smile to Betty's slackened mouth.
"Sounds good, baby," she growled hoarsely.
"It-is good. How are you-making out?"
"Oh, it's lovely. Nobody-eats a woman's pussy- like another woman. I hope you were watching. And I hope you-picked up some pointers."
The redhead came again, and now her weary channel was looser than ever. Jim fucked her savagely, desperately, but he began to think he was waging a losing battle. So did Faye, apparently.
"I'm-too slack," she whimpered. "I've come-so many times." Her ass wriggled, her slime-wet thighs stroked him, and her slippery fingers tugged at his dripping balls.
"Down here," she breathed. "Try me-down here." He backed away, his heart pounding with excitement, and eagerly pressed the tip of his cock against her anus. This was more than he'd hoped for. He felt it squirming, opening and closing in spontaneous reaction to the gentle pressure he was applying-and then her fingers were there, stroking and teasing herself, spreading the fleshy cheeks. "Come on," she panted. "Come on, you sweet bastard. "I want you to-fuck me in the ass."
"I'm pretty big," he warned her doubtfully, but he was shoving harder.
"I know. It's wonderful. But my pussy's so full of slop. And it's all over my ass. We should be all right."
And they were. She moaned softly when the head squeezed through, but after that it was fairly easy. He fucked his way into her with short easy strokes, timing his thrusts so they came when her spasmodically contracting asshole released him. Her right hand stroked her inflamed pussy, fingering the flaring lips and perpetuating the flow of thick lubricating juice-and then his pubis was against her cunt and she had to remove her fingers. Except for one, which hooked into her at the junction of those swollen inner lips.
"Hey!" Betty said lazily. She lay sprawled at her end of the couch, a sated smile of complete satisfaction on her lovely face. "What are you doing to the poor girl!"
"He's -fucking me-in the ass," Faye grunted happily.
"What's that?" Barbie's head was pillowed on the blonde's belly, and her voice was muffled against the smooth white flesh.
"He's hitting her in the ass," Betty informed her, amusement in the slurred words.
"The degenerate bastard."
"Not at all. It's really-quite interesting. I can hardly wait until it's my turn."
"It's good, good, good," Faye chanted. "Fuck me, fuck me. More, honey. Pull it out further. And then ram it into me. Ah-h-h-h. Oh Jesus. It feels-like my guts-are full of cock. Come on, baby. You're not hurting me!"
Jim withdrew until the head was just inside the clutching sphincter, and then slid it into her with a quick brutal thrust. The stroke forced a blast of air out of her, fluttering her tightly stretched asshole with a sound like a mule farting, and all four of them laughed uproariously. The next stroke produced another blast-and the next and the next. And now Faye's body was writhing voluptuously.
"That's-lovely," she sobbed. "Oh that's-lovely. Faster, baby. Faster, faster. Oh my God."
"Is it good, darling?" Betty's cheeks looked hot and her eyes were smoldering. "Tell me: is it good? I want to know."
"Yeah, yeah. It's-good. In my book-pussy is for eating. And assholes are for fucking."
"And tits," Faye reminded him in guttural tones. "Tits are for fucking too. Tits and assholes. But-when are you going to eat my pussy, baby?"
Betty laughed wildly. "Just give him time. He'll get around to it sooner or later. How are you doing, darling?"
"I'm-going to make it. Jesus, this is good. She's squeezing me-like-she was trying to shit me out of her. I never had a better fuck-in all my life."
Barbie finally raised her head and watched the long brown-stained prick plunging into the redhead's jerking ass.
"I'd like to try that myself," she remarked thoughtfully.
"It would certainly give you a well-rounded personality," Betty commented. She moved her left thigh and pressed Barbie's hand against her cunt.
"Don't be coarse, dear," Barbie retorted, but she was smiling. "Do you want to play some more?"
"Not really. I just want your hand on me when-Jim blows his cork."
"I'm gonna come, I'm gonna come," the redhead chanted. "I'm gonna come-with a cock up my ass. I've learned a lot this evening. But the best thing I learned is-that I just love- to get fucked in the ass. Come on, honey. Come with me. Shoot your load into my guts. Come on, come on."
"Fuck her, darling," Betty urged him. "Give her a bellyful. Tighten up on him, God damn it. It's hard as hell for him to come."
The redhead's body tensed, and her ass clamped down on him like a powerful hand. The rhythmically contracting asshole squeezed him as if it were pinching off a turd, forcing him to shorten his stroke. His hips slapped against her ass. Her own hips swirled and jumped, and she began a low hysterical moaning that quickly mounted to a babbling snarl of torment.
"Hurry, hurry, hurry," she whimpered. "I can't wait. Almost, almost, almost... Soon. Oh-God!"
Betty's eyes were on Jim's contorted face. "He's almost there," she muttered. "Any moment now."
"Now!" he roared, grinding his spurting cock into her body. "Now, you hot-assed bitch. Now! Now!"
For nearly a minute they acted as if they were killing each other, but at last Jim slumped over the girl's heaving body. Her legs fell away from him, sprawled limply on the couch, and her head rolled to one side. The big redhead had fainted.
CHAPTER TEN
FRANK ABSENTLY UNCAPPED the bottle and poured himself another drink. He wished he'd asked Joe to stay for a while. They could have talked about old times. He'd have waked Molly from her afternoon nap and she'd have joined them. She had always liked Joe. At one time he thought she might like him too much. That was after she'd insisted on separate rooms, and long after she'd begun denying him her body.
But he realized now that it had started while he was fighting. Frank was a full-blooded man with lusty appetites. He didn't mind the grind of training, the long months of preparation for a title defense, but he'd hated being away from Molly. He loved her so. And he missed the warmth of her, the quick Irish wit and the shrewd mind. But most of all he missed her soft, passionate body. There was a time when she was game for anything. Well, almost anything. And many a dawn had found them still murmuring sleepily, their heads on the same pillow, their naked bodies sated and relaxed and the room filled with the smells of their loving.
But that had changed, and so had Molly. Now he knew that the long periods of separation had done it, but at the time it started he was more puzzled and hurt than at any other time in his life. With the fight over, and the title secure for a while longer, he'd go home to her in breathless anticipation of her passionate response. And it would come, briefly. Then she would turn him off, just like shutting off the flow of water from a tap, and he spent many a sleepless night trying to figure it out.
Once-and shame still burned him when he recalled it-he'd hired a private detective to keep an eye on her. When the guy had consistently reported no misconduct, Frank had fired him and hired another. Despite the reports, he was convinced that she was finding solace with another man. She'd been so deeply passionate, and had taken such rapturous pleasure in their love-making, that he couldn't see her doing without. But this one too had come up empty, and it was left for Frank to discover that his rival was no staff of flesh and blood, but was only the handle of a screwdriver.
It was the day he'd announced his retirement. He'd come home to find her asleep on her bed and he'd stood in the doorway watching her, loving her, admiring the rise and fall of her naked breasts. And he'd tiptoed out of the room and down the hall, reminding himself that she hadn't expected him for several hours. He was changing his clothes when he heard a drawer close, and he heard her moving about in her room. Excitement grew in him as he hung up his pants. Maybe -just maybe-she'd make him welcome this afternoon. She used to like making love in the afternoon.
But when he looked into her room he found her with another lover. She lay on her back, knees high and thighs spread, and the screwdriver handle was buried in her open pussy. She was already in the short rows. Her right hand gripped the screwdriver blade, but her agile hips were supplying most of the action. They jumped and quivered, sending the lips of that well-loved cunt along the tool's corrugated handle, and her ecstatic face said she was loving it. Her eyes were closed; soft gasping whimpers came from her open mouth-and he stood where he could see without being seen, watching the lower portion of her body through the open door- while she achieved three orgasms in as many different positions.
He began watching her closely after that, until observing her at play almost became an obsession. He discovered that there were other lovers: candles, hairbrush handles, and a length of soft rubber hose that fitted over the spout in the bathtub. And there was a neat little trick she pulled by removing the shower head, and assuming all sorts of positions while the stream of hot water caressed her pussy.
Frank's initial reaction was to boot her ass into the street. It was a reasonable impulse, and logic told him he should have done it. There was a problem; he was still very much in love with her. Then he gave the matter a lot of serious thought, and decided he had the answer. The long absences had been hard on her too, so she turned to experimentation to find release. She had been eminently successful, obviously, and now preferred her inanimate playmates to his own forthright prick.
Then he made a serious tactical error. He discussed it with her. After her enraged protests, the tearful denials, and the stony silence had been endured, she finally told him she'd become a masturbator because he was no good for her any more. Women have been beaten senseless for saying far less.
But he gave the assertion careful consideration, and knew it was a lie. True, their last few attempts at love-making had been dismal failures. But that was to be expected; a man can't live with a woman, loving her and wanting her-allowed every liberty except the final sharing-and expect to perform well when she finally deigns to separate her thighs. How many nights had he lain sleepless, nursing a stone-ache? And when a thirty-five-year-old man starts having wet-dreams--in bed with his own wife-there is something seriously wrong.
His last attempt had been more than four months ago. He'd gone to her room, announced that he intended to make love, and slid into bed beside her. She sighed theatrically when he removed her slumber-bra, gritted her teeth when he stripped off the ruffled panties she wore, and when he began the preliminaries she lay there as responsive as a sack of manure. At last she said coldly: "Don't expect any help from me. If you can raise a decent hard-on without my help... Well, we'll see. But don't expect me to play your silly games."
He had come very close to strangling her.
He had found out about the flesh-and-blood lovers, of course. There had been several, all of understandably short duration. And he had finally figured it out, with the help of a sympathetic friend who was also a fight fan and a psychiatrist.
"Your friend's wife hates men," he'd said gently. "At least she hates what she knows of them. Oh, not in the way that a true lesbian hates men-although many of these embittered women end by turning to other women for-companionship. The basic problem is that they hate the male domination decreed by society. And yet they come to despise a man who placates them by playing a subordinate role. These women crave authority and recognition. They are apparently supremely self-confident and capable, but this attitude often conceals a psychopathic inferiority complex. They show acquaintances all the charm and sweetness of which they're capable, and reward those who love them with deliberate cruelty. They will be unfaithful out of sheer perversity, in a compulsive effort to hurt their husbands. But it can work both ways, strangely enough. One of my patients told me that the best piece he ever had was when his wife got mad at her lover. In my considered opinion, a whore makes a better wife. But then-many of these women are whores. Like everything else in life, getting married is a hell of a gamble. Your friend has a busted flush." Frank knew he would have to end it sooner or later, or surrender the last vestiges of his manhood. He'd shunned the thought for a long time, but had faced it squarely after that humiliating evening with Hal. He'd been stoned, of course-and she had alternately taunted him and begged him. And never let him forget what had happened.
He had despised himself for so long that he'd lost the memory of self respect, and he couldn't remember when he'd had a good night's sleep. He had more money than he'd ever dreamed of having, he could buy anything he wanted. Only there wasn't much he needed, really. Only Molly. Not that-that thing in there on the bed, but the beautiful volatile young girl he'd married.
What he really needed was a good piece of ass. The trouble was, he wasn't a damn bit sure he was man enough. Not any more. Maybe a change would help. New interests, a fresh project of some kind. Yeah, sure. Who was he trying to shit?
He finished his drink and got to his feet. He could go down to Irish Bob's, belt down a couple-and maybe run into somebody he knew. But there were disadvantages to that also. The men who frequented Irish Bob's were all in the fight game, or on its fringes, or bet on various sporting events-and some of them were bums. A lot of them, come to think of it. But there wasn't a damn one of them that couldn't turn a broad on if he wanted to, wipe off his cock on her skivvies, and ten minutes later be belting down a jolt of Old Bushmill's at Irish Bob's mahogany bar.
All except Frank Killeen.
A thought occurred to him. Maybe she was living it up in there right now. She'd refused to share even that with him; was insistent that her self-amusement was only a temporary phase, and adamant in her claims that it was over with. So he'd become quite adept at catching her in the act. She'd never accepted the fact that he'd actually watched her at play, being possessed of one of those minds that believes only what it chooses to believe. And she'd never discovered the two-way mirror he'd installed, either. It was a full-length job; she'd had the original put in right after they'd taken the apartment, and it had cost him a small fortune to replace it. It provided the nearest thing to a sex life for the ex-champion. Except for that drunken orgy with Hal, and he'd give his left hind nut if she'd let him forget it.
He walked into his own room, lighted one of his rare cigars, and quietly opened the windows. Then he went into his walk-in closet, removed the panel in the back that concealed his side of the mirror, and moved an easy chair into position. He sank into it, cradling the bottle in his lap, and laid his cigar on the nearby smoking stand. The show was about to begin.
She lay on her back, the bent right leg drawn up beside her. She wore a pair of white panties, her usual attire for an afternoon nap, and her right hand was curled over the bulge of her cunt. The curved fingers were moving, there was a heavy smile on her parted lips-and the hell of it was that he knew she wasn't awake yet. Yeah, she even played with it in her sleep. But it wouldn't last.
About half-way through the cigar she woke up, stretched, and lighted a cigarette. The door was locked from the inside, but he knew she'd check it anyway. And sure enough, she rose and crossed the room with that hip-swinging walk that first attracted him. On the way back she paused to take off her panties, and then turned to face the mirror.
Frank watched the movement of her eyes as she considered her reflected loveliness, and he saw the expression of affectionate approval steal over her softened features. It was still a disturbing sensation, staring straight into the face of a woman who had eyes only for herself. And then his gaze moved on to her body, and his prick began to thicken in response to it.
She had a stripper's build, big and earthy, and was one of those rare women who look natural and completely at ease when they're naked. And a damn sight better, in Frank's opinion. She looked heavy and even awkward when she was dressed, but naked she was breathtaking. And she shared his opinion, obviously. She strutted and postured, arranging her opulent curves in one provocative pose after another. And Frank's cock was getting harder.
Her body was deeply tanned, except for a narrow stripe around her hips and the blazing white of her heavy breasts. The aureoles were as big as silver dollars, the nipples were large and erect-and now she extended her arms, wriggling her shoulders and shaking those woman's breasts, and Frank felt his rising cock straining against the confinement of his pants.
Her waist was slim enough to complement the strong shoulders and broad hips. The muscles of her thighs were still firm and shapely, and if her belly, swelled over her pubis a little-well, what the hell; it made her even more of a woman in Frank's opinion.
She had more hair on her box than Frank had ever seen on a woman. It was thick and curling, the same chestnut color as the hair on her head, and grew in a blunt diamond shape that was almost five inches across. She'd kept it shaved when he first knew her, but then all strippers did as far as he knew. Maybe that's why it grew so thick and luxuriant now.
She was turning, viewing her reflection over a plump shoulder, and Frank could see the warm tenderness in her eyes. He'd never heard of Narcissism. But he knew she would work herself into a fever heat by looking at herself in this mirror. And she was such a hell of a woman to look at. A familiar pain gnawed at him as he watched her admiring the full curves of her ass. It was a crying shame that a woman like that should be such a weirdo.
But she had begun the next phase of her self-entertainment, and the stub of Frank's forgotten cigar smoldered in the ashtray. She was facing the mirror again, and her hands were moving languorously over her body. They cupped the lower curves of her breasts, lifted them, pressed them together; her fingertips teased the nipples while the broad hips undulated sensuously. A loose smile curved her mouth as her hands moved down her belly-and over the swelling hips to the cheeks of her squirming ass. Her knees parted, her hips thrust forward with suggestive grinding movements-then they were bumping to an easy rhythm and she was turning deliberately, smiling at her profile while her ass jerked and the big breasts jumped with a slightly delayed response.
Her hands moved to the insides of her thighs, bracketed the bushy pubis-and when she faced the mirror again her fingers were caressing the lips of her cunt. But that didn't last long either. Her movements grew wilder; teeth gleamed between the heavy lips, and he could see a faint sheen of sweat on her thighs and belly. She undulated across the room, rummaged briefly in a dresser drawer, and returned with a long red Christmas candle that must have been a good two inches thick.
She faced the mirror, holding the candle in both hands and angled its rounded tip upward between her thighs. Her lower back bent, tucking the big ass in under her body, and he saw her thick-lipped cunt advancing toward the candle. The tip flared the soft lips briefly before they retreated-only to advance again with a great deal more confidence. An inch of red slid into her, the soft belly writhed and quivered. And then the big hips surged forward, soft pink flesh was driven inward by the red column, reappeared again. And Frank leaned forward, watching with bulging eyes while his wife's gyrating hips forced her soft cunt over that punishing shaft of red.
He hadn't witnessed this bit before. She wasn't shoving the candle into herself; she was holding it in position while her hips and thighs and writhing buttocks drove it home. She was half-crouching now, her left side to the mirror, and her body surged and bucked as it forced the lips of her pussy onto the candle. Her ass moved in long powerful surges. She was utilizing at least six inches of candle now, holding it at a fixed angle, letting the movements of her body supply the sensation-producing action.
But now her body was sagging, slumping to the carpet. And she lay on her left haunch while her right hand held the candle, moving it with increasing speed in short staccato thrusts while her thighs jerked and quivered.
The thickened lips protruded loosely now, and the slippery flesh yielded easily to the thick red piston in her hand. Her hips rose, meeting each thrust with swinging eagerness. Her hand moved steadily, rotating the candle slightly as it rose and fell, and Frank was reminded of an old-fashioned potato masher.
His cock ached. He unbuckled his belt, pulled down his zipper, and hauled the big stiff prick out of his left pants leg. That was better. At least it didn't ache so much, or jerk so frantically in its efforts to be free. He curled the fingers of his right hand around the shaft and slid his rump to the edge of the chair. It felt good, and the fact that her hot gaze seemed to be on him made it all the better.
He gave it a tentative stroke or two, and desisted at once. Jesus, he could feel it-deep inside him-and if he wasn't careful he'd find himself beating his meat and coming all over himself like a fourteen-year-old.
His wife's hips were thrashing wildly. The pink lips gaped wetly, no longer folded inward by the candle's passage. The red shaft gleamed with slime. More of that sweet balm shone on her leaping ass and the in-sides of her flailing thighs, and the plunging hand worked the candle in and out of her with reckless abandon. Her ass rose high off the floor, jerking madly. Her hand flurried; the candle was a red blur, the full white breasts jumped and shook against their golden-brown background.
She came, her head tipped back and her body heaving in spectacular convolutions, but he knew that this was only the beginning. Already she was getting to her knees, the wet candle hanging from her froth-rimmed cunt-and she was on her feet, stumbling to her dresser while her left hand held the candle in place-and she was opening the drawer again, turning, falling onto the bed with that God damned vibrator in her hand, plugging it into the lamp, strapping it onto the candle, tipping her ass up with straining thighs while the powerful vibrations were transferred down the thick red shaft and into her squirming body.
Another orgasm sent the tanned body thrashing convulsively over the big bed, and Frank found that he was sweating. He'd had an excellent view so far, as good as if she'd deliberately set it up for him, and now he lifted the bottle and drank thirstily as she struggled off the bed. She staggered to her vanity, angled its big mirror to reflect a broad expanse of the bed, and stood for a moment with her hands braced on the back of a small chair.
She sighed deeply, picked up a round container from the vanity, and turned to face the wall mirror once more. He saw that she was applying powder to her thighs and hips, and eventually to her entire body. She devoted a good deal of time-and powder-to the in-sides of her thighs, and the powder puff returned again and again to the areas around her loosened cunt. Finally she was satisfied, and restored the powder to the top of her vanity. Then she stretched out on the bed, legs straight and pointed toward the inclined mirror.
She flung her arms wide, the big body tensed, and the muscles of her thighs and belly began to squirm. Frank caught his breath and the erect cock vibrated with excitement. He had only witnessed this bit once before, but it had left him spent and shaken. She had discarded the candle and vibrator; now she would bring on an orgasm through the muscular activity of her own body-and nothing, not so much as a finger, would touch her pussy.
She began rolling her hips slowly from side to side. She'd kept her thighs pressed tightly together. But now they spread wide, scissored past each other, ground together-and flung wide to reveal her long swollen pussy in the slanted mirror. She could see it too, obviously; for breathless moments she writhed on the bed, lifting her knees to provide herself with better leverage, and every muscle in the big smooth body was squirming. She assumed the classic fucking posture. Her ass rose smoothly and began the hearty movements he'd once known so well, and now her lusty pussy was bright with slime.
Her hands slid under the jerking hips, gripped the cheeks of her convulsed ass, and she began shaking her hips. Her back bent and straightened, the movements accelerated, and from time to time her thighs caressed each other. She turned onto her left side, thighs together and hips jerking. Her movements lost their easy rhythm, became erratic, and then rapidly lost all semblance of pattern. She rolled and thrashed, legs bending and straightening, thighs opening and closing-and her hips were surging frantically. Sweat gleamed on her. The muscles of her ass jumped and quivered-one cheek at a time and then simultaneously-and he knew she was getting close.
His hand closed around his cock, pumped vigorously, and for a moment he feared that she might hear the grunting sounds of his body's response. But she wouldn't have known if the roof had fallen in. She was writhing desperately, lips drawn back in a snarl of lust, and the long smooth muscles were jerking all over her body. She was on her back again when the end came; her thighs were together and her ass was twitching rapidly-the big white breasts were a blur of movement.
Then she shook violently; the faint muted sound of her scream came to him while his gripping hand punished his bursting cock. And then his body leaped in the chair, gobs of come spurting onto his belly and hand and welled over the swollen head-and the tanned shape on the big bed was going berserk.
Frank replaced the panel with shaking hands and carried the half-empty bottle into his room. He steadied himself against the wall and drank deep, hating her and despising himself-and fighting the impulse to remove the panel again, to watch her frig herself into a state of sated exhaustion. He had to do something, and do it soon. Or he'd end by killing them both.
He needed a broad. Any broad. A broad that thought a pussy was for fucking, and not just a personal plaything. She was sick. But so was he, by God, and he was getting sicker every minute. Maybe he was nuts. Maybe they were both nuts.
He stripped off his clothes and stumbled into the shower. He started the water off warm, gradually turned it cold until reason returned to him. The bottle beckoned from the bedroom and he responded to it, drinking slowly until his hands stopped shaking and he was reasonably calm. He threw himself on the bed, intending to think things out calmly and rationally-but the strident ringing of the phone woke him, and it was dark in his room.
He found the phone finally and held it to his ear. "So talk," he snarled.
"Frank? Frank, this is Jim."
"Yeah. Oh, yeah. Hey, Jim. How did everything go? Did you leave the broad in your apartment?"
"Sure, Frank. It ought to be over by now, right?"
"Well." Frank thought about it, remembering his brother, and grinned sourly into the darkness. "It ought to be going strong, anyway."
"Depending on who's doing the work," Jim suggested craftily, and Frank knew he was loaded. "I hear the lady's got hot pants. She may have worn him out early."
"I doubt it," Frank said dryly.
"Uh-who is it, anyway? You can trust me, Frank."
"Sure, I can. Thanks for the assist, Jimbo. I owe you a-"
"Hey, wait. Don't hang up on me, damn it. I'm onto a good thing here, and I thought you might be interested. You need money like you need a belt in the mouth, but if you're in the mood to stand this town on its ear-and pick up a lot of bread in the process-"
"I'm listening," Frank told him wearily. "Let's have it, bright boy."
"How would you like to produce a play?"
"What kind of play?" Frank asked carefully.
"Man, this is a play that will make Hair look like a Bobbsy Twin picnic. Of course, it could cause you a lot of trouble."
"Trouble? How could a play cause me trouble?"
"Well, it's a good story, Frank-but it gets raunchy early. And builds to a hell of a climax. It's about a girl who lives in the fifteenth century. She's rich and beautiful, and she's out for kicks, but she gets tired of the same old crap and the same old lovers. So she starts out on a tour around the world. She's not exactly a nymphomaniac, understand, but she-"
"Okay, okay. So what's this big climax?"
"Well, she winds up in a harem. There's a lot of dancing, a couple of songs-"
"The climax. God damn it!" Frank was getting impatient. He'd decided he was going to make a night of it for a change, and was anxious to get started.
"I'm getting to it, Frank," his caller said reasonably. "She makes a wreck out of this rich Turk who owns her, so he decides to sell her to the Caliph of Baghdad. He hates the Caliph, see, and-"
"Jim, I'm hanging up. Call me again when you're sober enough to-"
"Hold it! There's a damned good lead-in, Frank; it looks like the scene is finished. And then the curtain goes up again-as if by accident-and there's the Caliph banging the broad."
"Banging-the broad. On stage?"
"Right in the middle of it. On a bed. Dog-fashion."
"Yeah, well. It's been done before, Jimbo."
"Not like we're going to do it."
"What do you mean, not like-"
"I mean he's really banging her. Like-with his cock up her pussy. He's fucking her, Frank."
"Yeah, sure. Go sleep it off, Jim. Hell, I thought maybe you'd come up with some-"
"I'm deadly serious. And I'm not that drunk."
"No? Then you're out of your mind."
"No I'm not, moneybags. She's on her knees and elbows, see, and he's behind her. There's a spot on them-and another one from a low angle--and everybody in the joint can see it's the real thing. He'll use a long slow stroke, and they'll see his hard-on and they'll see him ramming it into her. And they'll see them fuck to a finish, with his load running out of her when it's over."
"It won't go past opening night," Frank told him. But now he was thinking.
"I believe it will. And even if they close us up, we'll put it on somewhere else. Remember what happened to Hair! Think of the publicity, Frank. You couldn't buy it for a million dollars."
"Yeah."
"Look, why don't you come on over? I've got the writer here, and we're going over some basic changes to the story. I think you may remember her. Barbie Robbins? And I've got the leading lady." He barked a laugh. "As a matter of fact, we're just about to try the climax bit on for size. You might call it an undress rehearsal. You'd get a charge out of it."
Yeah, he would. "Are you telling me you're going to have some guy bend on a broad, and you want me to-"
"Sure, Frank. Call it an audition. And you really ought to see this big bird."
"Well, I still think you're nuts. But I'll be right over."
"Uh-Frank-?"
"Yeah?"
"Don't take this wrong. But why don't you bring Molly? So we can get the feminine reaction."
Frank's first reaction was to tell him to go to hell, but he thought about it-and heard himself calmly agreeing that it was a good idea, that Molly would probably need some persuading. But that they would probably make it within the hour. He broke into Jim's effusive expressions of enthusiasm.
"Just tell your actors to hold off until we get there. And try to keep everyone reasonably sober."
"Oh, sure. And listen Frank-"
"So long," he growled, and hung up.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
WILLIAMS BATHED CAREFULLY, and applied deodorant to various parts of his body. A meticulous man, he went about his preparations unhurriedly, laying out his garments as thoughtfully as a man going to a coronation. But he wasn't anticipating anything that fancy, apparently. Over his tight-fitting underwear he put a snug knit shirt with short sleeves, and an old pair of wash-and-wear slacks. His clothing was dark, of course, as were his rubber-soled canvas deck shoes. And the pair of light-weight cotton gloves that he folded and stuffed into his pocket. A tiny pencil-type flashlight followed the gloves; he slipped his billfold into his right hip pocket, and was ready to go.
He'd spend an hour or two in the Ace-High pool hall, making sure there were men who'd remember him, and then he'd announce that he was taking in a late movie. He'd make a mild hassle at the box-office -questioning the accuracy of his change should do it -hoping that the girl in the booth would remember him. Halfway through the first feature he'd ease out through a rear fire-exit, and he'd walk a few blocks to where he'd left his car. On the way he'd have a cigarette, and that would be his last smoke until he'd completed the evening's business.
He'd leave the car a block from the apartment building, and he'd wait in the alley until his eyes were completely attuned to the darkness. Then he would go to work. Swiftly and skillfully. Because Williams was a specialist in a very demanding line of work. He was a burglar. Not a full-time burglar, actually, because he had a regular job. He was an automotive mechanic, a damn good one. But Williams had expensive tastes. And it was so easy for the shops to hire half-assed mechanics that skill didn't command a very high price. So he augmented his income by indulging in a little burglary. Just now and then. Like-about once a week.
Williams didn't carry a gun, or a sap, or a weapon of any kind. And he didn't carry a jimmy, or anything else that looked like burglar's tools. Just those black cotton gloves that a mechanic might use to prevent transferring grease from his hands to the steering wheel. And the little flashlight to assist him in identifying his keys in the dark or to examine a crapped out engine should the need arise. Oh yes, he carried a few plastic credit cards in his billfold. And a nail file. And a small thin-bladed pocket knife. Nothing unusual, really.
He didn't figure he'd ever need a weapon. He was lean and hard, with fast hands and clever feet, and he had no desire to hurt anyone. Seriously, that is. The law was stern about that sort of thing, vindictive even -and they were unusually diligent in tracking down burglars who dealt in violence. Or who robbed the very wealthy and the influential.
The most dangerous vice in burglary was greed. Take some and leave some, was the Williams philosophy. Travel light, move fast, and take only what you can carry away in one trip. It meant a man had to work more often, but he didn't face enforced retirement so often, either. Not if he played it cool, picked his spots carefully, and worked alone.
Williams had been caught once, by a man who was in no position to make a complaint. The character was shacked up with some choice stuff, and while he blustered a good deal and made all manner of threats, Williams soon understood that nothing was going to come of it. Burglars weren't the only people with things to hide.
It had been an educational experience, leading to another development in the Williams philosophy. It was a whole lot safer to rob those who wished to avoid attention. Like shack-ups, and pimps, and loan-sharks, and call-girls. Like grifters and con men, hustlers and free-lance bookies. Ladies from out of town, certain types of salesmen, and homos. And young ladies in gentlemen's apartments. Of course, a man couldn't always be that choosy.
The Williams M.O. was simple. He liked to work the top floors of hotels and apartment houses. People on the top floor seemed to feel secluded and safe, not realizing that a burglar enjoyed the same advantages. The law required that the occupants have access to fire-escapes, and Williams thought it was a very thoughtful piece of legislation. Rooftops were handy areas, dark and lonely, and an excellent place to establish listening posts.
Williams had heard some weird and wonderful conversations. People poured out their hearts and their guts too, not realizing how they sounded to a man crouched by an overhead vent or an air-shaft. If a man was a student of human nature, as Williams was, he could certainly further his education with a little top-floor burglary.
He was a talented man, but he accepted his gifts as philosophically as he accepted the sunrise and the sunset. He could see in the dark, could move through a strange apartment with the unhurried stealth of a cat, and never in all his life had he lost his cool. Automobiles were his first love, burglary was strictly a means to an end, and women were his passion. He stalked them as an Indian stalks a deer, needing them to satisfy his hunger, yet finding the chase nearly as exhilarating as the kill. And the world was full of them. Williams loved them all, very nearly, yet he wanted none for his own. Consequently the chase was sometimes expensive, and burglary supplied the means.
By one o'clock he was nearly satisfied. He'd passed up more than he'd taken but there'd been a fair amount of cash, and the last vanity he'd investigated had yielded some surprising pieces of jewelry. He crouched on the fire-escape, body flattened against the building, and listened to the deep regular breathing from the corner apartment. That one was sleeping soundly, he decided, and the night was young. In moments he had opened a French window and was standing inside the bedroom.
He moved further into the room, circling the foot of the bed, putting the sleeper between himself and the French window. It was a warm night; he saw that the covers had been thrown back, and a woman lay diagonally across the bed. She was on her back, and the light was good enough to reveal certain details to his cat's eyes. Like-this one was naked. He let the excitement and desire wash over him for a few moments while he waited to see if he'd disturbed her. Meanwhile he feasted his eyes on her, smelling the faint aroma of bourbon in the air, noting the rise and fall of her young breasts. And then he turned to go to work.
"You're late." The soft lazy voice came from the bed. "I expected you hours ago."
He stood still and silent as a post, watching while she rolled onto her side. There was a nice smooth curve to her hip, he noticed. A knee slid upward along the sheet, pointing toward him, and he could see the youthful slimness of her thigh. He could no longer make out the shape of her breasts, but the dark spots of her aureoles were easy to locate. For Williams it was easy. But he knew that if she could see him at all, it was only as a vague shadow.
"Come on, lover," she said, her voice a little thick. "We've still got lots of time. Take your clothes off and come to bed."
Williams mind was racing as he fought down his rising temptation. She sounded a little drunk; he could still smell that faint trace of bourbon. She might be just far enough gone to let him escape without raising hell.
"What's the matter?" Her voice was rising now. "Don't you want me? What the hell do you think I'm doing here, anyway. Do you want to-make love to me, or not?"
"Sure, baby," he whispered. "Sure, I do. I just wanted to make sure you're awake."
He heard her low throaty laughter. "I'm as awake as I'm going to be. And I'm ready for you, lover. Don't worry; I'm going to-cooperate. So what's the holdup?"
Williams hesitated. Clearly, this chick thought he was somebody else. But if she was expecting somebody, might not that somebody happen along eventually? But she'd said she expected him hours ago. And if he tried to leave now, she'd certainly be suspicious. And that hip had such a sweet curve to it; the thigh was so slim and white in the darkness, and her throaty voice was so warm with invitation.
He made his decision swiftly and began removing his clothes. He heard the clink of glass as he slid the slacks down his lean hips, and realized she was pouring a drink.
"Want one?" She asked.
"Later, baby."
She laughed again. "All right with me. "We'll have a party. Say, I can't see you. And I can't reach the lamp."
"No lights," he hissed. "No lights, baby."
"Yes, I suppose you're right. Damn it. I wanted to know... But what the hell. If I ask you a question, will you level with me?"
"Why not, baby?" He was approaching the bed, and now he could see her more clearly. And she was a doll.
"Have you-ever been in on this kind of thing before?"
"No," he answered truthfully, wondering what the hell she was talking about.
"I'm glad. Are you? Glad, I mean."
"Sure. Move over, baby."
"Yes, of-of course. Funny. I don't feel strange at all. Just-excited. Can you see me?"
"Uh-huh. I'm a cat, little bird. I see in the dark. You got a fine shape on you, honey."
"I know. Where are you?"
"Right here, enjoyin' the view."
"That's nice. But-don't keep me waiting too long, lover. I'm-in the right frame of mind now. There'll be plenty of time. Later... "
"Truly." He eased his long frame onto the bed and leaned over her. His right hand verified the youthful slimness of her thighs, found that the hips were small and compact, that the belly was flat and that the waist was slim and supple.
"Ah-h-h-h," she breathed.
"Very nice," he assured her in his soft whisper, his sensitive fingers investigating the soft texture of her breasts. The aureoles rose above the smooth flesh, and he noted with keen anticipation that the small nipples were firmly erect.
"Are you-going to play for a while?" She asked hopefully. "I was-afraid you'd just-get it over with and go."
"What's the hurry, baby?"
"Oh, good. No-bam bam, thank you ma'am?"
"Not for you and me, baby." He squeezed the firm flesh gently, bent his head, and she gasped when he sucked the nipple into his mouth. He teased the nipple with the tip of his tongue, let her feel his teeth, and slowly allowed the soft flesh to escape. His mouth wandered into the valley between her breasts, sought out the tip of the other.
"Ah-h-h-h," she repeated. His cock had crawled across the front of her hip, straightening and hardening, and now she sent an exploring hand to find it.
"Holy Christ!"
The small hand recoiled, then advanced hesitantly, the fingers moving along the shaft with increasing confidence. "Holy Christ!" she said again, incredulous delight in her voice. "Lover, you'll split me with that!"
His mouth relinquished the tip of her right breast. "You scared, little bird?" His hand was retracing its route along her belly, pausing at the deep navel, moving on to a thatch of soft thick hair.
"Not-afraid, exactly. But-you'll have to be awfully careful. At first."
"I'll be careful." His hand slipped between her thighs, and she promptly separated them. His fingertips reached the lower portion of her ass-the middle one located the puckered anus-and his hand moved upward in a long gentle caress. And he grinned in the darkness. This little bird was eager. Her cunt had already blossomed; the inner lips were jutting from the open vulva, and the hole was wet with the slippery balm of her passion.
Her hips squirmed while he separated the tender lips, accomplishing the pleasant task with long gentle strokes of his skillful fingers-and finally they were opened wide, exposing their sensitive inner surfaces, and her hips shuddered each time his fingers passed over the slimy softness.
"This-is so much better-than I expected," she told him breathlessly. "Your hands-are so good. But-I want you to kiss me. Kiss me, lover."
Her tongue was like a striking snake, darting into his mouth and retreating to caress his lips-and then it made way for his, and she sucked his tongue while he slid a long finger into her natural passage. Her hand was gripping his cock now, moving instinctively, pulling at him-but he raised his head and his quiet laughter came to her through the darkness.
"Be patient, little bird. It will be easier for you if we hold off for a while."
"Yes, yes," she panted. "I-see what you mean." Her fingers had moved to the tremendous head. "Do you mind-if I do this?"
His ready laugh answered her, and the slim hips jerked and surged as he slid another finger into her.
She tried again, her voice so thick that she sounded almost incoherent. "I mean-I won't make you-too quick?"
"Just have fun, honey. I'll tell you when to stop."
"It's so smooth. And so warm. And the skin is so soft. I wish I had skin like that."
"Darlin', you got fine skin. Like a baby. You got a choice body, girl."
Her voice was very faint. "I'd-like to kiss it. I never have before... Is it-all right?"
"Baby, you be my guest."
He turned onto his back, and he felt her smooth warmth trembling as she leaned over him. The slim fingers were on his cock, her long hair brushed his belly, her breath warmed him-and then the softness of her lips brushed across the tip. He resisted the impulse to lunge upward at her, to wrap his hands in her hair and drive the head between those soft teasing lips.
She's just feelin' her way, he told himself. Be patient, man. She'll get around to it.
She got around to it sooner than he expected. He felt her tongue darting, just as it had darted over his lips; it slowed, maintaining its contact as it circled the head- he felt her open mouth hovering over him for a tense moment. Then he heard a sound that was almost like a sob-her body seemed to relax all at once-and the head of his cock was in her mouth.
The avid mouth sucked hungrily, surprising him with its searing intensity, and then: "It's good," she panted, and he could see the white blur of her face as she turned it toward him. "It's good. It's the first time for me. And it-makes me so hot. Is it-good for you?"
"Like livin' is good, girl. Like breathin' is good. So-get on with it, baby. I'll tell you when to stop."
He felt her taut breasts on his belly and her mouth was on him again. She got to her knees, and his left hand slipped over the smooth contours of her compact little ass. His fingers curled over the inside surface of her right thigh, tugged insistently, and she obediently changed her position until she knelt with her right knee against his side. His hand urged the trembling thigh upward and she hesitantly slid her leg across his chest.
He turned toward her then, catching the slim thigh under his right arm. She slowly settled on her left hip and shoulder-nearly choking when he pillowed his head on the inside of her left thigh-and then her body melted as he fastened his mouth to the wet warmth of her cunt.
He moved his head, letting the soft flesh slide out of his mouth, but her hips moved involuntarily, pressing it close, and he drove his tongue into the swelling tenderness. Her hips undulated, responding eagerly to his stroking tongue, and her own wanton mouth was eating him voraciously.
It was too good, he told himself. For her too. She'd be content to go on until it was too late, until he lost control of himself.
He pushed her hips away, none too gently, and she raised her head.
"Wh-what's the matter?" she asked thickly.
"You're ready now, girl."
"I'm ready. Oh yes, I'm ready!"
"But you're pretty small, baby. And that's good. But we don't want to spoil things by hurtin' you. So you get on top, little bird. Climb onto that thing. And you can take it as easy as you want to. There you go. Move back a little, darlin'. That thing's too long. Yeah, that's it. Oh, yeah! That's a fine ripe pussy now, baby. That's good. Hot and tight. With a damn good lube system. That's it. Now-go easy, honey. We got lots of time."
"Do you-like that?" she whispered. She crouched over him on hands and knees, the head of his cock half-buried in the opening of her snug passage. Her hips were squirming slowly.
"Yeah, baby. I like it fine." His hands moved up the insides of her thighs, peeled the slippery lips away from his cock, and she gasped as the head burst through into her body.
"Oh-Jesus," she whispered. "Oh God, oh God." And then: "It's-going in. Oh Lord. It's going in. And it's-so thick! But-it's going-in... I don't-really believe it. It's-so easy, so easy. And so-heavenly."
Neither spoke again for at least a minute, but the warm darkness was filled with the sound of their struggle. Each advance of her willing hips was punctuated by a sound that was half grunt and half moan, and she was dragging the breath into her lungs with long shuddering inhalations. His hands whispered over her trembling smoothness, the bed creaked its slow rhythm as he helped her bury the big phallus in her yielding heat, and the sounds of his heavy breathing mingled with hers.
"I-I think that's enough," she faltered.
"All of it," he growled harshly. "Take it all. You still got a long way to go."
"But-it's-against my cervix."
"You'll be all right. Take it all, darlin'. Then you can play a while. And when you're ready-we'll turn over-and then I'll show you some real lovin'."
She didn't answer at once, but her hips were moving with undulating confidence. Then: "I can-feel it," she whispered. "I'm-going to be-quick. And then it will be over. And it's-not even all the way in."
"Don't worry about it," he said softly. "You come on. Have yourself some fun. We got lots of time, I told you."
"Are you-sure? Oh, Jesus." She was almost babbling now."
"'Course, I'm sure. We're just gettin' started, little bird. Let go, girl. Shake that fine ass and give yourself a ride."
"Yes, yes, yes. And I want it all, I want it all. Oh Lord, what a big lovely prick you've got. So good, so good. So-good... Hold my ass, baby, and-Oh Jesus-here I come!"
She jerked and shuddered, mouthing obscene expressions of passion while her hips lunged at him, and when it was over she'd completed the envelopment of his cock. She leaned over him on quivering arms, panting desperately while his sure hands caressed her body.
"Oh, that was good!" she gasped. "Oh God damn, that was good! I've had a few pricks stuck in me in my time, but nothing like this one. I'd like to take an option on it, baby. I feel like I'm full of cock clear up to my stomach. And you sure-know how to get a woman ready. Yeah, doll. I like it-when you play with my tits."
She lifted her ass, shivering with pleasure as the big stalk slid out of her. She drove it home again with a twisting jerk of her hips, and the breath burst out of her as if she'd been hit in the belly.
"I want to play with it," she whispered. "You said I could play. Are you-all right?"
"Sure, honey," he assured her lazily. "I'm enjoyin' this as much as you are."
"You couldn't be. Christ, I sure as hell didn't expect anything like you. He said you were a tiger, but-Oh man, man. Where do you suppose I'm putting it! And it-slides in and out-so easy, so fucking easy. I'll be lucky if I can walk tomorrow, and I guess my pussy will be-Ah-h-h-h! Yes! Oh! Do-that again! Oh man, I'm so damn-juicy. I'm getting it all over your belly, and-Oh Lord. Here I am-screwing myself. And I've never had so much fun-in all my life!"
Her hips churned madly; she grunted and wheezed and snarled through another orgasm. And at last he rolled with her, coming up over her on knees and elbows, and he began fucking her with long measured strokes.
There was no definite pattern to her response, once she felt the heat boiling up in her. She stayed with him well enough until the lust took over, and then she went a little crazy. Her hands clawed at him, her legs alternately embraced him and flailed at him, and she snarled like a tortured animal.
"Oh fuck me!" she sobbed wildly. "Fuck the living shit out of me! Screw my ass off, baby. And then fuck me some more! Oh Jesus. I'm gonna come! I'm gonna come! Oh now I'm coming now! I'm coming, I'm coming, I'm-coming!"
At last his own time approached, and despite her near madness she sensed the change in him at once.
"Oh, come on!" she sobbed brokenly. "Shoot it into me! That's what we're here for! And I want to feel it-pumping into me."
When he came it was like the end of the world. She screamed hysterically when it began, clasping him with arms and legs while her hips jerked with incredible speed and violence-and her body shuddered each time a grinding spasm sent a spurt of come into the depths of her. She came herself before it was over, her shrill howl of triumph filling the room and bursting into the night through the open French windows.
"Darling?" she muttered thickly.
"Yes, girl?"
"Am I a good piece of ass?"
"Little girl, you're the best."
She laughed comfortably. "I never was that good before. You really turn me on. Ah. I don't suppose you could tell me your name."
"No, darlin'. No names."
She sighed. "I guess you're right, only... God damn it, here I meet a man who gives me the screwing of a lifetime, and I don't even know what you look like."
"That's the way it goes."
"Yeah." This time her laugh was short and bitter. "Well, you should have given me something to remember you by, anyway."
He pondered that one, but didn't answer. He finally gave up on it during their second drink. There was something going on in that mixed-up mind of hers, but whatever it was had missed him completely. Her hand sought his in the darkness, took his empty glass, and she leaned over him.
"We'll probably never get another chance," she murmured.
"More'n likely."
"And-we ought to make certain, don't you think?"
"Oh, sure."
"Yes." Now her voice was getting thick again. "I'm going to wash. And then it will be your turn. And then I'm going to suck it until it's big and hard again, and then we'll fuck and fuck and fuck!"
Williams stood in the alley for a long time, listening. He'd have liked to have waited a little longer, but the sky was getting light in the east. So he walked swiftly to the far end of the alley, hearing only the echo of his own footsteps. He slowed once he reached the street. A hurried walk always attracted attention, and besides there was a dull ache in his loins and his legs were a little weak.
A squad car swerved to the curb and a cop stuck his head out the passenger's window.
"Hey you!" he said harshly. "Where you goin,' boy?"
"Goin' home," Williams mumbled, shuffling his feet.
"You drunk, boy?"
"Not now, I ain't. No, sir."
"Well, you get your ass off the street, or we'll run you in. You got no business wanderin' around this time of the mornin'."
The squad car took off again with a squeal of rubber, and Williams watched it go. He shrugged off the hatred that rose sour and biting in his throat, and continued down the street. He was headed home.
The driver of the squad car glanced at his overweight companion. "Should have hauled him in on general principles," he growled. "Let him sleep it off in the tank."
The other sighed. "Not these days, Mike. You gotta learn that. That bum would cause us more trouble than he's worth."
"Yeah, I guess you're right. The God damn niggers are takin' over the country."
"You remember that, and you'll save yourself a lot of headaches."
Cissie snapped off the lamp and slid the billfold under her pillow. She stretched luxuriously, staring up into the darkness. He didn't think I knew, she thought comfortably. As if I give a damn. Tomorrow I'll go find him-and I hope he isn't narrow-minded or anything silly like that. And won't this make their jaws tight. twelve FRANK LAY WITH his fingers laced behind his head, staring up into the warm darkness. His reason told him to let Jim's proposal alone, that it was a crazy drunken notion that would cost him a bundle-and probably kill any chance he might have of producing something worthwhile. But native instinct said play it cool, it won't hurt to have a look. And hadn't Hair turned out to be a goldmine, after all? And another thing: Jim said he was prepared to show him how it was going to work. Show him. Like-in the flesh.
So he'd go. But take Molly? That was a different problem altogether. Would there be any point to it? She'd probably bail out of the place as soon as the party got rough. Or would she?
He grinned sourly. Hell, she was so obsessed with sex that it might be fun to see how she'd react from a spectator's viewpoint. Uncomfortably, he recalled the episode with Hal. She'd had a ball that night, sure as hell. Come to think of it, she'd even participated. In her own way, with that God damned candle.
He'd play it safe, just the same. No use bugging her with a lot of details. He'd just tell her it was a play-a little raunchy, maybe-and they were going to discuss it with Jim. And that there would be money involved. That ought to stir her interest. It always had.
He got up, stretching his big powerful body, and was pleasantly surprised by his relaxed feeling of well-being. He stood undecided for a moment, recognizing his reluctance to approach her, and then snapped on the lamp at the head of his bed. With a mental shrug he walked into his closet. Maybe if he could see her, see what she was doing, he might have better luck making up his mind. He removed the panel, and saw a faint light glowing in her room. It came from a small lamp on her vanity, and left most of the room in shadow. Except for the bed.
Molly lay sprawled on her back, the long arms and legs relaxed and graceful, and Frank stood staring at her in silent admiration. The low angle of the shaded lamp created shadows and highlights on the voluptuous naked body, shadows and highlights that stirred and shifted in response to her deep measured breathing. His eyes went to the full breasts riding high and wide on the deep chest. Their upper curves were in black shadow, but he could see the robust nipples outlined against the light-and beyond them he could see the light forming a halo over the thick fur on her pubis.
On her belly twin columns of softly rounded muscle reflected the light, while in the shallow valley between them her navel lay deep in shadow. The upper swell of the long beautiful thighs gleamed dully. And then his eyes lifted to the vanity's slanting mirror.
Here was another picture entirely. The rounded breasts glowed with light, the high-arched chest was dark while her belly was reflected almost in its entirety -and there below it, between the carelessly wide-stretched thighs, was that sweet thick-lipped pussy. It was composed now, the inner lips forming a single entity between the long hair-shrouded outer folds. And the reflected light was merciless, revealing her big cunt from the thick hair above to the tight crease between the cheeks of her ass.
His gaze moved upward along that mirrored image, to where the deep creases of the outer lips vanished beneath the chestnut foliage, and here between them he could make out the hearty bulge over her clitoris. The pink wrinkled flesh below was soft, he knew, and warm to the touch-and once opened readily to his caressing fingers. It would swell and part, revealing its secrets as the precious oozing juice began its distillation, the juice that would ease his passage into her vibrant heat.
He replaced the panel while a very real pain gnawed at his heart. None of that earthy beauty was his anymore. None of it. It would never be his again. The thought brought emptiness with it, and defeat, and finally the dull resentful stubbornness that had once gotten him up off the canvas while a dazed challenger stared at him in sick disbelief. He hadn't needed anyone then, and he didn't need anyone now.
Like hell, he didn't! He needed her!
He walked out of his room, down the hall, and knocked at her door. Her voice came to him, low and sleepy, and its sensual sweetness reached through the door to tug at his heart. She called out again, and this time her voice was strong and clear.
"It isn't locked. Come on in."
He threw it open, strode purposefully to the bed- but her mocking smile stopped him in his tracks. "My, my," she drawled, looking up at him from heavy-lidded eyes. "We're getting a little impetuous, aren't we?"
He glanced down at himself, remembering that he was still naked, and felt like kicking himself in the ass.
She always had him at a disadvantage, somehow. And then the lure of her body drew his eyes, and she lay there smiling while they went over her. In a moment she yawned, burying her hands in her long luxuriant hair. She stretched, long muscle rippling over her big body, and the smile grew. Clearly, she was enjoying herself. The long legs moved further apart, toes pointing toward the bed's edges-and she grinned when he glanced into the vanity mirror.
But her tone was caustic. "I'm honored of course, but curious. What brings you into my bedroom-after all these months?" Her eyes moved down his broad, heavily-muscled body. "Don't tell me I'm about to be violated."
"Sorry to wake you," he mumbled awkwardly.
"It's all right. Turn on the other light, if you want." Her tone was absolutely expressionless, but her eyes taunted him.
"No, I... God damn it, Molly!"
"Yes?"
Suddenly he hated her, and hated himself, and hated the impulse that had brought him in here. He turned away.
"What's the occasion?" she asked sweetly-and he was at the point of leaping onto the bed, taking the smooth round column of her throat between his hands.
"It's Jim," he croaked, turning to face her again. "He-he wants me to produce a play."
"So? It's what you've always wanted, isn't it? Is it any good?"
"I don't really know a damn thing about it. You remember Barbie Robbins? Well, she's written something that has Jim-"
"Barbie the dyke? I remember her, all right."
"Yeah, well... She's written a play that Jim's all excited about, and he wants me to produce it."
"I see." She swept the tantalizing legs together, finally hiding that fascinating pussy, and rolled onto her side. That was just as bad. The left breast lay against the sheet; the weight of the right one pressed firmly against it, and the oddly erect nipple pointed squarely at the head of his cock. "Are you interested, Frank? In the play, I mean."
"Yeah. Uh-I don't know. He says it's kind of horny here and there, and he wants us to come over and have a look at it. At part of it, anyway. He's got some people over at his place-"
"Us? You mean you want me to go?"
"Yeah. He figured your reaction-and your opinions -would be valuable."
"Does he? And what do you figure?"
"I figure he's right."
"Now let me get this straight. You're asking for my help. Iron man Frank Killeen. My goodness, I really don't know what to say."
"Don't, Molly." He took a step nearer the bed and laid a huge hand on the satin inner surface of her rounded upper arm. The contact electrified him. She was so smooth and soft and so good when she wanted to be.
Huskily, he said: "God, you're lovely, machree."
Her eyes were veiled. "You haven't called me that in a long time, Frank."
"I know." With an effort he took himself in hand. It wouldn't do to give her another chance to humiliate him. He moved away from the bed.
"How about it," he said gruffly. "They're waitin' for us. And we haven't got all night."
"All right. I'll have to shower and dress, and-put my face on."
"Sure. I'll be waitin'." He walked heavily to the door, but her voice stopped him.
"Frank?"
"Yeah?" He didn't look at her. He didn't dare.
"Nothing," she said dully. "Just-get the hell out of here."
Jim opened the door for them, and stood aside while they entered. He was wearing a terry-cloth bathrobe belted loosely around his narrow middle, and there was a wide grin on his face.
"Welcome," he said with an expansive gesture. "Come in and meet the cast."
Frank regarded him sourly. Jim's eyes were clear enough; he walked to the center of the room with quick sure strides, but Frank knew he was stoned to the eyeballs.
"Barbie," he said genially, "you remember Frank and Molly?"
The tall girl nodded briefly from the far easy chair. She was dressed in her mini-skirt and sweater; her long slim legs were crossed, and her face looked sullen. Frank's eyes went from the good legs to the front of her tight sweater, saw at once that there was no bra under it-and then directed his attention to the other chair.
"This is the star of our show," Jim said quietly, his eyes on Frank's face. "Faye Raney, Frank and Molly Killeen."
Faye had draped a sheet around her big luscious body, and now she clutched it modestly in front of her. But Jim had instructed her carefully. So when she rose from the chair the sheet was caught under her left foot, and it fell in a heap around her ankles.
"Oh, my goodness!" she gasped and bent quickly to retrieve it, while Frank gaped at the huge swaying breasts.
"Hold it, baby," Jim said kindly. "As long as it's happened, we might as well show Frank and Molly what you've got." He held out his hands. "Come here, honey. And don't be afraid. He won't bite you."
Molly snorted at that, but Frank thought he was probably the only one who noticed. The redhead walked hesitantly to the center of the room, her face scarlet, and Jim slipped an arm around her waist. He gently turned her to face their visitors.
"Here she is," he said easily. "What do you think? Don't you agree that this belongs on a stage?"
"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph," Frank said soberly, but Molly was more explicit.
"Have her turn around," she suggested. "Let's see what the rest of her looks like."
Jim obliged her, and Frank stared at the wide shoulders, the strong tapering back, and the big beautifully curved ass. Jim ran his hand over it.
"Ever see anything like that?" he asked. "Firm as a twelve-year-old's."
"Yeah, I have." Frank had found his voice. "Turn her around again."
Jim grinned, and the big girl turned obediently. Some of the hot color had left her face. The wide mouth looked full and heavy, and her eyes reflected excitement.
"She seems-very cooperative," Molly murmured.
Jim's grin broadened. "She is indeed. She's learning what an impact she has on people, and she's eating it up. Aren't you, baby?"
"Uh... I-don't mind, if-this is what you want."
"See what I mean? Tell me, Frank: in all your checkered career, have you ever seen a pair of tits like that?"
"Yeah. On Mary Murphy. And on a dancer named Molly Malone."
"Not this big, Frank. Admit it. Not nearly this big."
"Yeah. She is something, all right. What have you got in mind for her?"
"She's going to play the part I was telling you about. We'll give you a sample later-just so you can get the feel of the thing... "
He moved to pick up the fallen sheet, and Molly saw a significant bulge in the front of his bathrobe. At least this one didn't have any trouble getting a hard-on. He draped the sheet over Faye's shoulders, and she gathered it in front with her left hand. Her eyes were on Frank's face.
"Let's have a drink before we start," Jim suggested. "There's scotch and bourbon on the coffee table; there's ice and soda for those who want it. And it looks like we could use some clean glasses. Barbie? Do you mind, honey?"
Frank watched the tall girl gather up the glasses. There were four of them. Two were on the coffee table in front of the couch; one was in Barbie's hand, and the fourth was on a stand beside the chair Faye had vacated. Someone else had been here apparently. Someone well-known to the others, if he could base such an opinion on Faye's nudity. Was it someone who was reluctant to face him?
Barbie left with the dirty glasses, and Jim invited them to share the couch. Frank hesitated, his eyes wandering around the room. It was difficult to explain his curiosity. And then as he sat down he saw a pair of high-heeled shoes on the floor beside Barbie's chair. Barbie had been wearing shoes; Faye's spike heels were on her feet-and he seriously doubted that a departing guest would have left without her shoes. That meant that the fourth member of the party was still here. But why hide? Unless...
Frank gritted his teeth. The bitch. Sure as hell, that tramp his brother was married to was holed up in the bedroom. Maybe it wouldn't be a wasted evening after all. Molly nudged his arm, indicated the cigarette in her mouth.
"May I have a light?" she asked mildly.
"Sure, baby." He found a book of matches, struck one and held it for her. She leaned close.
"Betty?" she muttered.
"It figures. You're sharp, girl."
"No. I just watched you work it out, Sherlock."
"Yeah, well. Stay loose, doll. Play it cool. I'm gonna tear some new assholes before we're finished."
"That should be-interesting." She leaned back, exhaling toward the ceiling, an expression of mild boredom on her face.
Jim had been holding a low-voiced conversation with the redhead. Now he led her back to the easy chair, saw her safely into it, and turned back to his guests.
"Please excuse my rudeness," he said lightly. "Faye's new at this, and she was afraid you might misjudge her. She's actually a very modest kid. I think I've reassured her. Ah, here are the glasses. Thank you, Barbie."
Barbie silently filled a glass and carried it back to her chair. Her eyes were alert. Frank fixed Molly a scotch-and-water, poured himself a belt of bourbon, and dumped half of it down his throat. He glanced pointedly at his watch.
"Let's get on with it," he growled. "I was in the process of planning my evening."
Molly glanced at him thoughtfully, but made no comment. The modest kid seemed to be having trouble with her sheet, and now it was revealing a whole lot more than it hid. Frank was intrigued. His eyes lingered on the tip of an improbable breast, and the redhead smiled at him while the fingers of her left hand moved to conceal it. More or less. Molly drank, but her eyes were more thoughtful than ever. Frank stared openly while Faye's fingertips curled over the tip of her breast. She appeared to be enjoying the contact-and the effect it was creating.
"Have another drink," Jim suggested smoothly. "Your glass is empty, Molly. You're a gorgeous creature, incidentally. Ah. I'm just about drunk enough to go into detail, but Frank's too sober to let me get away with it. But I saw that shape when it packed 'em in at The Sands, and it hasn't changed a bit."
Molly laid a restraining hand on Frank's arm. "You're sweet, Jim," she murmured. "Frank, darling. Please fix me another drink."
"Yeah, sure."
Jim's voice became business-like. "The part we're going to show you is the end of the second act. There are two action bits-and while the first may seem a little contrived, it's necessary to insure that the second goes as planned. I'll sit here on the end of the couch, and play the Caliph of Baghdad. Barbie will be the slave dealer, and Faye is the girl he's trying to sell me. In this bit Faye ends up on the floor, the curtain comes down-and the scene is apparently over. Out front there's a bit where two harem girls keep the audience occupied for a few moments; the curtain goes up again. And the actors are caught in the middle of the second bit."
Jim smiled fondly at Molly. "Better have another drink, gorgeous. It's going to get a little rough."
"How rough?" Frank's jaw was set, and Molly's hand was on his arm again.
"It's all right," she assured him. "I'm a big girl now. And I've seen some pretty weird performances in my time-remember?"
"How rough?" he repeated.
Jim seated himself at the far end of the couch. "Very rough. But remember: we can get away with anything that has social significance. That means there are no holds barred. We intend giving them the ultimate performance. Ready, Faye baby?"
"Yes. Yes, I'm ready."
"All right, Barbie. Take her into the other room. And cut the sales pitch short, will you? We want to get into the action as soon as possible, understand?"
Barbie got up without a word. There was a flash of curling red pubic hair when Faye arose from her chair; a huge shapely breast appeared briefly. And then the two women were gone.
Frank made Molly another drink, but she finished it and still the performers had not made an appearance. She toyed with her glass while Frank brooded over her last remark. It was true enough; she had seen some pretty weird sights. But he knew she was referring to the episode with Hal in their apartment.
It had begun innocently, with Frank inviting Hal up for a drink and a discussion of his future. The events that followed were burned into Frank's memory. They would probably remain that way for the rest of his life. He'd discovered that Hal had a taste for good bourbon, and they were well into the bottle before Frank brought the meeting to order. He cited the rumors concerning Hal's taste in bed-partners, pointed out their damaging effect on his career, and asked as delicately as possible if they were true.
"Of course they are," Molly's voice had answered him, and both men looked up to see her standing in the doorway. She smiled, moved to a chair with that sensual walk of hers, and sank into it with a display of deeply tanned thighs. "But that doesn't make him an untouchable," she noted, and finished the drink in her hand.
"More," she demanded, extending the empty glass.
"We're talking business," Frank told her ungraciously. "Besides, what do you know about it?"
"I knew he was a homosexual," she said reasonably. "Women always know. It's just a feeling we have. And personally, I don't think it's going to hurt him a damn bit. How's to put something in the glass, dad?"
"You've had enough," he grunted irritably. "Get lost, baby. We're-"
"Tell me, Frank," she said evenly, "have you ever had a blow job?"
"Have I... Jesus Christ, Molly, that's no way to talk! You go on to bed, God damn it-"
"Don't swear at me, you over-grown gandy-dancer. And you don't need to answer. First you have to get a hard-on. Say," she said abruptly, interrupting herself and staring at him craftily, "maybe that's what it takes to stir you up. How about it, Hal? Willing to participate in a little experiment? You suck him off, and I'll get me an education while I watch."
She pointed an admonishing finger at her husband. "Settle down, big daddy. And don't threaten me. I learned about you, Iron man. You wave that fist at me, but you haven't got the guts to use it. So just sit back down and listen." She gave him a crooked smile. "You just might be glad you did."
She directed her owlish stare at Hal. "I'm serious," she told him quietly. "If it works... Then I'll blow him myself whenever he wants me to. Only-I don't know how, and I'm damned if I'm going to start out with a half-assed effort."
"Holy Christ!" Frank snorted, but his heart was beating faster. He stared at her mocking smile, and the thought of those full sensual lips caressing him.
"I'm serious," she repeated. "It might be our last chance. Only I know you haven't got the guts."
There was more, but in the end he took off his clothes and sprawled on the couch while Hal blew him. Molly observed the proceedings closely for a while, removing her own clothing a piece at a time, and long before it was over she was writhing on the couch beside him with six inches of thick red candle shoved into her cunt. He came finally, shooting his load into Hal's throat-with Molly's own shuddering sigh of release sounding in his ears. They watched Hal's unsteady retreat to the bathroom, and Molly rested her tousled head against his shoulder.
"Honey," she said soberly, "you're in trouble. That son-of-a-bitch is a queer."
It had been a weird evening, all right. And to top it off, Molly had refused to keep her end of the bargain. Not that she'd stopped taunting him about it.
Jim gave them a few more minutes, and then clapped his hands impatiently. "All right, girls," he called, "you're on."
In a moment or two Faye entered the room with Barbie close behind. They'd reversed the sheet, draping it over Faye's wide shoulders from in front, and the white fabric lay smooth and taut over the upper slopes of those tremendous breasts. Her arms were behind her, thrusting the huge mounds into impressive prominence, and the sheet fell away in loose folds from their pointed tips.
"Skip the kneeling bit," Jim said thickly. "All right -let's have it."
Faye stumbled slightly as Barbie pushed her to the center of the room, and Frank saw that a thick cord had been looped around the redhead's neck. Barbie held tightly to the other end.
"Here she is, O Master of the Universe. The rarest jewel in all Islam. Stand straight, girl, the Sword of the Prophet would have a look at you."
Barbie moved in front of her, grasped the sheet where it passed under the redhead's chin, and swept it aside. "Feast your eyes, O Leader of the Faithful," and there might have been a touch of irony in Barbie's tone.
Molly gasped. Frank gaped in stunned admiration while Jim chuckled appreciatively.
"I can see what took you so long," he said dryly. "But you're forgiven, ladies. The result is worth waiting for."
Faye's lush body was covered with a light coating of oil, and the tips of her breasts had been brightened with lipstick. A gleaming ornament of some kind had been thrust into her deep navel. Her wrists were tied behind her, emphasizing the big, heavily-burdened chest-but all eyes were drawn to her pubis. It was as smooth as polished marble, having been shaved clean of its thatch of curling red hair. Big and rounded, heartily prominent, it shone with the same oil that had been applied to the rest of her.
"Regard these breasts," Barbie said huskily. She cupped a trembling hand under the nearest one, shaking it gently. "Saw you ever such noble tits, O Flame of Islam? Note their hearty size, their lusty nipples, their smooth firmness. And see these bold hips and sturdy thighs, a fit cradle for the Shield of the True Faith. Observe this truly female belly and the brave mount of love."
And Barbie's hands were stroking, fondling, and the big redhead's body was quivering in its reaction to those knowing fingers. She turned at Barbie's urging, and the cheeks of her ass jerked as the tall girl caressed them.
"Truly a magnificent ass, O Leader of the faithful. An ass to reckon with-and chaste too, or may I never know the joys of Paradise. Observe the powerful muscles beneath this woman's softness. Aye, here is a steed to test the mettle of a princely rider, in very truth."
Barbie turned her again, and the big girl's legs were trembling. Barbie was no better off. She laid her hand on the thrusting mount of love, and her words were spoken in a hoarse unsteady whisper.
"Master," she said, "thus far I have kept her hands pinioned because her passion is boundless. Even now her fires are smoldering. If I were to thrust my hand between her thighs they would all but consume her, and she could not be restrained until she found release. Ah, you doubt? Watch then-and remember that I warned you."
The redhead's knees bent, parted, and Barbie's hand slipped between the shaking thighs. Barbie moved to the side, the spectacular redhead turned to face her, and the big solid ass began to move. Her hips jerked and shuddered, but the powerful thighs and lower back drove her ass in a steadily accelerating rhythm. The tremendous breasts jumped and shook; a deep crease formed across her belly as the broad hips thrust forward, the muscles of her ass writhed and quivered.
And then her entire body was involved. The long muscles leaped in her thighs and belly, her hips and breasts jerked in concert-and then her ass went into orbit around that clutching hand, a deep growl came from between her clenched teeth, her hips flurried insanely. She wrenched her hands free and cupped them under her huge breasts. And very slowly the big tortured body sank to the floor.
Barbie picked up the sheet, and no one failed to notice that her right hand gleamed with juice. Molly released her breath in a long shivering sigh as Jim rose from the couch. She glanced at him briefly, noting the rigid prominence under his robe, and then gulped down the remainder of her forgotten drink.
Barbie lifted the sheet, holding it at shoulder height with widespread arms. The squirming redhead was effectively screened, but they could still hear the sound of her deep panting.
"Curtain," Jim croaked, and walked around Barbie and out of their sight. They heard the sounds of a piece of furniture being dragged into the room. There was some low-voiced conversation from behind the sheet. Barbie peered over it for a moment, and then: "Curtain," she whispered, and moved aside.
Jim and Faye were on a low couch. Faye crouched on knees and elbows, her thighs well separated, and the tips of those big quivering breasts were flattened against the surface of the couch. Jim, naked now, crouched behind her with his lean body accommodating itself to hers. Their bodies surged in the realistic movements of copulation, but Jim's bent back kept his hips glued to her undulating ass.
Jim grinned at them. "What do you think?" he asked conversationally. "Pretty effective, isn't it?"
"Sure," Frank growled. He took Molly's hand, found its palm damp with perspiration, and looked at her sharply.
Her face was flushed, and her parted lips looked bruised and swollen. Her thighs were pressed tightly together; he saw they were quivering, and he raised his eyes to hers. He was shocked at the expression he found there.
"Look," she breathed. "Oh God, Frank... Look!"
Jim had loosened his hold on the crouching redhead. His back straightened, his hips moved away from the full-blown gyrating ass-and about five inches of thick gleaming shaft slid out of her. He gave them time to examine the pink cunt-flesh he'd drawn into view with that retreating stalk-and then he thrust it home again, forcing a rasping moan out of his ecstatic partner-and then he was fucking her with long unhurried strokes, showing them the lips of her cunt when he withdrew, folding them out of sight again when his cock plunged into her.
The redhead was grunting rapturously, her ass shaking wantonly as the long cock drove deep, thrusting after him when he retreated, her hips eager for the next encounter. And Barbie sat beside the couch, staring at the girl's abandoned ass with avid eyes.
Jim was shortening his stroke when Frank pulled his wife up off the couch. Faye was whimpering when he opened the door, when he pushed Molly through it ahead of him-and a wild scream of pure ecstasy followed them down the hall. thirteen "COME ON, BABY. It's time to go."
Faye opened her eyes to see Barbie leaning over her. "You're dressed already," she mumbled sleepily. "What time is it?"
"It's after midnight, honey. You've been asleep for over two hours. How do you feel?"
Faye blinked her eyes and stretched. "All right, I guess. I've got a headache, but it's not bad." She glanced along her lush naked body. "I didn't mean to go to sleep. I just lay down on the couch for a minute. Have I been putting on a-a show for everybody?"
"It's all right. Jim and Betty went to bed hours ago. I've been asleep myself. Over in the chair." She laid a hand on the redhead's thigh and sank to her knees beside the couch. "Are you sure you're all right?"
"I'm fine. Except my... "
"Yes, honey?" Barbie's tone was very gentle.
"Well, my pussy's a little sore. That guy like to wore it out."
Barbie's hand moved upward along the rounded thigh. "I've got a cure for that," she said huskily.
"Oh-don't, Barbie. Please. It's-so sloppy. I-I need to take a bath."
"I don't care. Poor baby. Am I-hurting you?"
"Oh, no-It-feels nice."
"It's such a sweet pussy. And you have lovely breasts, darling. Such lovely breasts."
Barbie bent her head and kissed the tip of the nearest one. Faye sighed comfortably, turning her body so that the nipple thrust directly upward. Encouraged, Barbie sucked it into her mouth. Meanwhile her fingers were busy.
"I'm so messy," Faye muttered-but she drew her right knee upward, leaving the field to Barbie's questing hand. The big redhead's hips were stirring.
"Someone-might come in," she gasped faintly.
The nipple came out of Barbie's mouth with a wet sucking sound. "Come on up to the penthouse with me," she whispered. "We'll have the rest of the night together. And tomorrow, and tomorrow night."
"I-I need a bath."
"You can take one at my place. We'll bathe together, if you like. I'm going to look after you, Faye darling. You'll see. Come on now, baby. Let's get you dressed."
The big girl staggered slightly when she stood up, and Barbie slipped an arm around her waist. The other hand slid down the gently swelling belly, cupped the naked pubis, stroked the front of her hips.
"Faye," Barbie murmured huskily, and drew her close. "Faye, my darling."
"Yes? Yes, Barbie?"
The redhead's eyes were clear now as she gazed at the other woman. Her lips were parted. They looked soft and sensual-and so inviting-and Barbie saw them slacken as her hands moved over that luscious ass, as they pulled the broad hips against her own; she felt the full thighs trembling and the eager strength of the naked redhead's embrace-and she kissed her, squarely on that delicious open mouth, ran her tongue between the heavy lips-caressed them-sucked gently at the softly pouting flesh.
"Let's hurry," she said hoarsely. "If we-don't leave soon... "
"I know," the redhead murmured. "Where did I put my skirt? Did you notice, Barbie?"
"Here it is, darling. Never mind the panties. They seem to be-torn rather badly. It's really a shame to cover those gorgeous breasts, but I suppose we must. Here's the sweater, baby-and I think your shoes are under the coffee table."
Faye had never seen Barbie's bedroom. She really didn't know what she'd expected; some indications of latent masculinity, perhaps-but the room was like that of any other woman with plenty of money and a penchant for self-indulgence. That's the way it appeared at first.
A king-size bed stood squarely in the center of the room, and the entire far wall was covered with heavy drapes. There was an easy chair in each corner, and Faye thought that was a little unusual for a bedroom. A small table stood by each chair; there was a low cabinet-style headboard at one end of the bed, but the room held no other furniture.
"The dressing room is in there," Barbie said softly, and nodded toward a door at the far end of the room. "But first I want to show you my view."
She crossed the room, pulled at a heavy cord in the far corner, and the drapes swept back to disclose the city of Los Angeles spread out below them. The entire wall was made of glass. Faye uttered an exclamation of pleasure, but as she stepped forward she received another surprise. A flicker of light drew her eyes upward, and she saw the city lights reflected in a huge mirror above the bed.
Barbie laughed. "It was like that when I bought the place," she explained. "Now I'm glad I left it there. Come on, darling. Let's take our bath."
The bathroom looked like something out of The Arabian Nights to Faye's bemused eyes. It was bigger than some hotel rooms she'd stayed in. French windows opened onto a balcony as long as the bathroom itself, and mirrors lined two of the remaining walls. But the sunken tub was the thing that held her attention.
Set flush in the tile floor, it was easily big enough to accommodate two people. And Faye was reminded that Barbie had suggested that they bathe together. Now she saw the logic of the idea. Like the Japanese, she thought vaguely.
Barbie knelt on the tiles, thrust a hand into a recess below the level of the floor, and water began cascading into the tub. She turned and smiled at the big redhead.
"Let's get undressed," she suggested in her husky voice. "There's nothing like a hot bath to unravel all the kinks."
"But-I ought to wash first."
"The toilet is in there, honey. Ah. The foot-pedal operates the bidet." She laughed indulgently at Faye's puzzled expression. "You'll see what it's for, baby. Do you like plenty of bath salts? Good, so do I. Go ahead, doll. Just-make yourself at home."
When Faye came back from the dressing room she found Barbie in the tub. The brown-haired girl smiled tenderly while her eyes wandered over the big girl's body.
"The water's fine," she told her, "so come on in. We'll heat it up some more after you get comfortable. As you can see, there's plenty of room."
Barbie's eyes glowed as they watched Faye ease herself into the hot water. Faye found that she could lie comfortably with her back against the sloping portion of the tub's bottom. And she found too that Barbie's slim body felt good beside her, that the gentle knowing hands were soothing and exciting at the same time- and that there was a strange thrill in having the other woman's breast against her own. And now Barbie's hand was on the smooth bulge of her shaven pubis.
"You should keep it like this," Barbie whispered. "I enjoyed shaving it. I love the feel of it-and it looks so smooth and white and lovely."
Faye's knee broke the surface and she let it sag to the tub's edge. Barbie's hand moved slowly between her thighs; the slim fingers stroked her tenderly, skillfully, and the husky voice was a murmuring caress.
"Relax, darling, and enjoy yourself. There are only you and me now, and we've no one to answer to but ourselves. And this tub was made for lovers. So put your hand on my breast, darling."
Faye discovered that Barbie's mouth was hot and demanding on her own. The long tongue darted between her lips, a finger parted the softness of her cunt, and that small taut breast felt wonderful against her hand. She turned on her hip; her arms went around Barbie's body, she returned the kiss. And finally Barbie raised her hand.
"Let's-finish our bath," she panted. "Hurry, baby. And then we'll go to bed. Ah, darling. It's going to be such a lovely, lovely night."
Frank was nearly undressed when the phone rang.
He sat down wearily on the bed and picked up the receiver. "Yeah?" he barked.
A young excited voice spoke breathily in his ear. "Mr. Killeen? This is Cissie. I wanted to tell you everything is-just wonderful. He's wonderful. And I-wanted to thank you. I'm sorry I gave you such a bad time. If I had known-"
"Yeah, well... It's kind of rough on you, kid. You're a hell of a good sport to be taking it this way."
She giggled. "I'll take it any way he wants to give it to me. And it's not rough, dad. It's out of this world."
"He's still there? The raunchy son-of-a-"
"Yeah, man! And he's going to stay all night. Won't you tell me who he is? Please? He won't even let me turn on the light, and when he goes to the bathroom-"
"Look, Cissie. You tell that-that crazy bastard to get the hell-"
"G'bye, Mr. Killeen. Got to go. He's coming back from the bathroom, and I know he'll want-"
"Have him call me, God damn it-" But his caller had hung up.
Frank stared at the phone for a moment, shrugged, and returned it to the cradle. It looked like everybody was having a ball tonight. Except him. Oh yeah-and Molly, what was she up to?
He finished undressing and walked into the closet. In moments he had removed the panel, and stood looking into Molly's bedroom. She stood in the middle of the room, her head cocked as if she were listening, and there was a faint smile on her full-lipped mouth. She was naked, of course. She was nearly always naked when he looked in on her, or in the process of taking off her clothes.
Now she turned slowly, just as though she were displaying her superb body for his benefit-and then she was staring directly into the mirror. She extended her right hand, pointing straight at him, and crooked her index finger. Holy Christ, she was beckoning him! Could she know about the mirror? How could she! But -there was that twisted mocking smile on her lips. Look, she-she was holding her breasts now, offering them to him, taunting him.
Frank turned blindly and lunged back into his bedroom. Without conscious thought he blundered down the hall and found himself in front of her door. It was locked, but he'd expected that; without hesitation he stood back and drove the bottom of his right foot at the area above the knob. The door crashed open, and he stumbled into the room.
She stood facing him, hands to her cheeks, and he took a dim satisfaction from the fright in her eyes. But it didn't last. Her hands came down, an expression of supreme contempt replaced the fear, and her voice lashed at him.
"Now what are you up to, you psychotic bastard? Look at that door! You've scattered splinters all over the-"
"Shut up," he said quietly, moving toward her.
"Iron man Frank Killeen, showing us peasants what a big strong man he is. Well, get the hell out of my-"
"Shut up," he repeated, and back-handed her across the face.
The force of the blow sent her sprawling backward across the bed, and he was on her before she could recover. But she fought him silently, her sleek full-bodied smoothness writhing like a snake under his muscular bulk, and her lovely eyes blazed with the lust of combat. He'd never seen her look more beautiful or more desirable, and the feel of her naked warmth struggling against him filled his heart and mind with his need for her.
His cock rose, stiffened, and grew hard as oak. It rammed into her belly, skidded upward, and she gasped at the impact of its huge strength against her yielding flesh. He got a knee in between her thighs, pried them apart-but mounting her was like trying to thread a dancing needle in the dark. Almost reluctantly he slapped her again. And again.
The blows stunned her momentarily, but she resisted feebly when he fitted the head of his cock into the soft warmth of her cunt. He was surprised to find it slippery with juice, to force his entry with relative ease, to fuck his way into her with half-a-dozen savage thrusts- and somehow her legs were over his, her hips were responding to him, and her fingernails were digging into his back. Her soft choking laughter washed over him. "Baby, baby," she crooned. "Oh, my darling. I've waited for you for so long, so long."
Mary Murphy woke with her voluptuous shape fitted closely against the back of her big stud. There was a warmth in her breasts and belly that she recognized, a tingling in her thighs that was familiar to her-and her hand crept over the sleeping man's hip. When he finally woke he had a raging hard-on, and her warm fingers were playing their wise games along the shaft of his cock. He rolled onto his back.
"What's the matter, sweetheart?" he mumbled indulgently.
She sat up, throwing back the sheet that covered them. And her hand returned to the towering prick.
"I don't know, hon. Maybe it's the warm night, or maybe there's something in the air. Or maybe I've just got hot pants. But whatever it is, I want to play some more. Any objections?"
His hand slid along her hip. "You're not wearing any pants," he pointed out in a reasonable tone.
"Merely a technicality. Move-over a little. There, that's good. Man, what a hard-on!"
"You like that, Red?"
"Yeah, I do. I love it. And just to prove it to you... "
"I-uh-don't need any proof, sweetheart."
"Um-m-m-m?"
"But-don't stop, baby. Don't-stop."
Williams stood silently beside the bed. He looked down at the sleeping girl for a long moment, his eyes wistful, and then leaned over her. He placed a gentle hand across her mouth.
"Don't yell, little bird," he said quietly.
Big brown eyes stared up at him through the gathering light of dawn, and she shook her head. He removed the hand, his gaze studiously avoiding her naked breasts, and she said calmly: "I'm not going to yell. Why should I?"
Startled, he examined her face for signs of fear, or surprise, or dismay-and found nothing but smiling welcome.
"You got my billfold," he said uncomfortably.
She laughed softly and threw back the covers, revealing the rest of her slim body. "Take your clothes off and come back to bed, darling. We have so much to talk about."
"Molly, machree?"
"Yes, champ? My darling?"
"How long have you known about the mirror?"
"Ever since you had it installed."
He thought about it. "Then-all this time... "
"Uh-huh."
"And-when you were-uh."
"Yes, baby. And don't talk, ma bouchal. Just love me, love me."
"Molly. Jesus Christ, girl."
"Just-tell me how I'm doing, champ. Let's see if-Hal taught me anything."
Betty was choking on the hot come that welled into her throat. Her teeth released the rigid shaft; it slipped between her distended lips, driving the erupting head into her throat and nearly strangling her-but that ravenous mouth was still consuming her, the slim white body in the mirror was still thrashing in the raptures of orgasm.
Faye lay on her back, gazing breathlessly at her reflection in the big mirror above the bed. She touched her breasts, mildly surprised that they looked and felt just as they had before she and Jim had turned them into a temporary cunt, and he had emptied himself between them. Her legs tingled with excitement; her belly was taut with anticipation, and she realized that she was looking forward to-whatever was coming-with feverish eagerness. What was keeping Barbie so long in the dressing room. Didn't she know how Faye wanted her to-to come to bed? Ah, the door was opening. Now-what should she do? Should she spread her thighs in shameless invitation, or-just play it by ear?
"You're lovely," Barbie told her in that throaty voice. The bed creaked slightly as the tall girl joined her, and she knew what had taken so long in the dressing room. Barbie's body was covered with a light film of scented powder, and the fragrance of her perfume filled the room. Faye lay quietly and watched the mirrored hand that caressed her thighs. She looked strange with no hair on her pussy, she thought idly-and then the reflection was blotted out as Barbie's avid mouth descended on her own.
Barbie's lips were moist and warm. The long probing tongue thrilled her, the fingers on the inside of her thigh brought shivers of pleasure along with them, and it was good to feel the tip of Barbie's breast rubbing against her own. Now the warm mouth was on her throat, moving onward with moist nibbling kisses to the curve of her shoulder. The mouth was open now. It slid wetly along the slope of her breast, circled the prominent aureole while that darting tongue sent quivering delight throughout her body-and oh God she was licking the nipple now, and sucking it, and now the whole tip of her breast was in Barbie's mouth and she could see the action repeated above her as she gazed at the naked figures in the mirror.
Faye moved her body slightly, forcing the soft white flesh against Barbie's writhing lips, and the movement brought a smooth vibrant warmth against her cheek. She turned her head-and there was Barbie's breast, small and taut and trembling, the engorged nipple almost touching her lips.
What would it be like to-to kiss another woman's breast, to suck the nipple into her mouth, to tease it with her tongue? Hesitantly, she brushed it with her parted lips, caught it gently between them, stroked it lightly with the tip of her tongue. Barbie liked it, surely; hadn't her body tensed at the contact? And-wasn't she shifting her position, presenting the breast to better advantage?
Certainly, she was. Faye opened her mouth, stroked the pointed tip with lips grown moist and slack. And then her lips were straining, sucking, opening and closing to force the wet quivering flesh in and out of her hungry mouth-and Barbie was moving over her, crouching now with her head toward Faye's feet, and after long dizzy minutes the breasts were gone; a lean flat belly had taken their place, and Barbie's tongue was lancing into her navel.
Barbie's mouth took a circuitous route to the bare pubis. The long tongue slid into the crease between thigh and body-and Barbie's thigh was against her cheek; she could smell perfume and the warm moist heat of Barbie's cunt as she spread her own thighs, tilted her hips-and moaned ecstatically when that snakelike tongue flickered over the lips of her pussy.
Barbie's thighs straddled her. Barbie's mouth devoured her while her hips writhed and shuddered-and there above her was Barbie's cunt, wet and darkly pink and swollen-looking.
Did Barbie expect her to-kiss it? Did she dare? And did she-want to? Oh God it was so good. The way that ravenous mouth was sucking her, eating her. Perhaps-just-a momentary kiss.
Faye tilted her head back, her heart pounding wildly, and she felt her fingers sinking into the firm flesh of Barbie's boyish hips. She tugged gently, the cunt moved close-and she pressed her lips firmly against the soft slippery heat. Her lips moved, sliding easily in the warm slime, and she recklessly thrust out her tongue.
The tongue probed, met resistance at first-then slipped suddenly into a soft wet pocket of living warmth.
Barbie's body was convulsed momentarily-and then her hips were squirming, sliding the long wet cunt over Faye's open mouth, and Faye felt the last vestige of restraint leave her body. She opened her mouth, sucked avidly at the soft lips; her hips writhed upward.
Jonni was asleep. She lay on her back, and the long shining black hair was fanned out around her head and shoulders. Just as it had been when he first looked in at her. Her legs too were in the same relative position. Well, almost the same. The thighs were well separated; the left knee was drawn up beside her-and the same sensual smile was on her softly parted lips. She'd known she might fall asleep after the long soaking in the hot tub, and had made him promise to wake her if she did. But he was content to lie beside her and feast his eyes on her naked loveliness, bathed now with the soft glow from a shaded lamp on her vanity.
Her right arm had been around his neck. Now it lay relaxed and beautiful, the hand palm-up above the mass of shining hair. And he drew his lips along its satin surface, continuing to the swelling slope of her breast, lingering over its dark conical tip.
The nipple rose, hardened, and still his mouth caressed her. The muscles of her chest stirred; her hips squirmed slightly and her right hand came to stroke his shoulder.
"I love to feel your mouth on me," she whispered. "I love your hands, too. And-and all the rest of you. But when you kiss me, when you kiss my body... "
His mouth was full of firm pointed flesh, and he didn't answer. But presently it moved on, over the arching chest to her taut muscular belly-paused over the deep navel while she murmured her appreciation-on to the curving hips and to the inside of that sprawled left thigh. And now the rigid strength of his phallus was across her arm. Her curling fingers found its flaring head.
"Do you love me?" she breathed.
"I love you. Yes, Jonni. I love you." His mouth was moving along her thigh, and now the thigh was quivering. Her head moved, and he felt the warm breath on his cock.
"Am I-am I beautiful, Joe? Am I good for you? Am I what you want?"
"You're lovely, Jonni. And you're-good enough to eat."
"Really? Really, darling?"
But he didn't answer. The blood was pounding in his ears, his world was full of the feel of her, and the fragrance of her body, and the velvet smoothness of her skin-and the long pouting lips of her cunt were there, so close, so close.
