There were six men in the Wizard Chef when the rumpled old guy came in. That is, there were six men if you call Cesar a man, at seventeen. None of them knew the rumpled old guy, who said his name was Driessen, Doc Driessen. He had the sex formula that was going to give them the most fantastic night of their lives.
The rumpled old guy had a little trouble, at first. The biker acted as if he wanted to fight. The trucker was worse than surly. But Doc Driessen accomplished his purpose. He got them all together, at a table in the back corner of the little restaurant.
"My name's Driessen," he told them. "You can just call me what everyone else does-Doc Driessen."
'What's up, Doc?" Fred Foster asked, and he and Cesar Perez chuckled.
Doc smiled, then un-smiled, just like that. "I'll tell you what's up," he said, and he did. He didn't use a lot of fancy language, either.
Doc Driessen was a chemist. A master chemist. He had invented a formula and mixed it up, in liquid form. An elixir. The complicated formula and its liquid preparation worked very simply.
"It turns on females!" Dave Griffey echoed.
"Absolutely," Driessen said, nodding his head with its thin cover of soft-white hair. "Like animals, like bitches in heat."
"Rrowf!" Cesar barked.
"Shi-i-ittt," Mickey White drawled.
"Why tell us, Doc?" That was Cesar Perez, who was almost virgin and perpetually horny. He was so excited his voice quivered.
Driessen leaned closer to the five heads bent over the formica top of the table. He wanted to share his elixir with his fellow men, he said, and had chosen them purely by chance, because the five of them happened to be here, in the little diner called Wizard Chef. The sixth guy had left. Poor dummy.
Driessen did not tell them that he wanted to field-test his formula, that the university would throw his ass out in the street if they knew to what purpose he had put their lab and chemicals, and that these five happened to look to him like a good cross-section of American masculinity.
They were.
Cesar Perez, seventeen, worked in a filling station. A lean, dark boy of medium height, with curly, dark hair and eyes like round pools of melted chocolate. And he was almost a virgin.
Dave Griffey was twenty-three. He was a tough looking dude, hardly clean, his long auburn hair pulled back and tied with a thong, real leather. His jeans and denim jacket were grease-marked, and his biker's boots looked as if they'd been through a war. His big Harley-Davidson was parked outside, shiny and clean.
Fred Foster, twenty-nine, had come over to the Wizard Chef from the supermarket across the street, where he was assistant manager. He was nice enough looking, recently divorced and feeling it, even if Angeline had been a do-it-in-the-dark Southern Baptist who at the last minute voted for Ford because Carter said he dug women. No one had yet told Fred that his mustache wasn't really right on his squarish face. His brown hair looked done, and was; since the divorce he'd been going to the stylist every other week. It was chewing the hell out of his salary.
Mickey White, thirty-four, lived a long long way off. The big Peterbilt tractor-trailer rig outside was his. Interested, he wasn't about to mention to Driessen his wife Betty and the kid. Six-two, he wore a size forty-four jacket and was both the tallest and biggest man in the group. And he seldom took off his cap, which said CAT just above the bill.
Bill Martin was forty. His hairline had sneaked way back off his forehead and there was gray at his ears and some in the beard he shaved off every morning. Bill was credit manager in the local IBM sales office. He was a quiet man, dumped-on by the others in the office-and by his wife. Bill knew it. He was too easygoing, too quiet, took too much. They even made fun of him because he read so much science fiction, the dummies. Bill didn't know how to get out from under. Mister Meek.
Right now all of them were excited, wide-eyed, and not-quite convinced. After all ... a sex elixir! A formula for fucking! Shit. Griffey and White were openly scoffing.
"What you're saying," Doc Driessen said, "is 'show me'. All right, fellows. I will show you."
He produced a little glass vial, no thicker than Mickey's thumb and maybe as long as his middle finger. Stoppered, it looked as if it contained nothing but slightly yellowish water.
"Observe," Doc said. "Oops, easy now. Dave, isn't it? Dave Griffey. Easy, Dave, don't jar my arm. One ... drop..."
That's what he let fall into his coffee. One drop. For a moment the coffee looked oily on top. Then it looked like nothing but coffee. Doc stirred it. The old guy looked, Fred Foster thought, like somebody you'd get to play Santa Claus, although he'd need a lot of stuffing under the uniform. All that sweet kind face needed was a beard. Doc was a slim man, about five-six, with only a little pot that was developing under his belt. Hell, the trucker had more gut than the old boy-though of course Mickey White was built as if he pushed weights or something, aside from the stomach, that is. That came from too much sitting in a truck, and too much bread, mashed potatoes, and beer.
Driessen straightened. So did the others, as if on signal. Instantly they started trying to look cool and casual. To the waitresses, who were watching, the sextet looked guilty. Maybe they'd been bent over dirty pictures, Carol thought. Nasty filthy men!
But now the old guy was looking at her. He beckoned. Carol went over, her hips swiveling and her breasts joggling. They were bare under uniform and apron. She did that to tease men, the nasty filthy bastards.
"There's . . . something wrong with my coffee," Doc said. He spoke apologetically, very quietly. "I'm sorry. It's just . . . would you . . . would you please just taste it?"
Mickey opened his mouth and Driessen kicked his booted shin.
Carol was incredulous. "Taste it!"
"I-it's odd. I can't quite place the taste, and I should be an expert. You see, I'm a doctor. Would you please just taste it?"
Doc Driessen looked, as sweet as Santa Claus, up at Carol, a blonde who was in truth both attractive and shapely. Fred Foster had been hopeful about her ever since the divorce. He got nowhere. Now she was gazing back at Driessen. A little frown appeared on her face. A worried look.
Five men and a boy held their breaths.
"Please," Driessen said again, very quietly.
Carol's gray-eyed gaze shifted to the mug of coffee. It looked untouched.
"Oh good grief," she said, and picked it up as if it might be burning hot or bitter or ready to bite her.
She sipped.
Four men and a boy released their breaths.
"Hmp." She pursed her lips, looked pleasantly thoughtful, moved her lips, tasting. "Nothing wrong with this coffee, Mist-uh, Doctor," she said, and deliberately took another swallow to prove what a silly ass he was and how superior she was.
Driessen was frowning as if in concern. "Nothing? You don't taste anything... odd?"
"Not a thing. I think it's a pretty good cup of coffee." She smiled. "Of course, what do I know. ... I drink the coffee here all the time!"
Everybody released tension by laughing. Driessen shook his head.
"Maybe I'm coming down with something," the rumpled old guy said.
"Doctor, if you are and you've given it to me,"
Carol's color was deepening. Her lips parted and Carol said, "I oughtta sue you!" starting to scratch her breast but stopping herself, she breathed through her mouth. Four men and a boy were again holding their breaths.
"Well, I'll give you free care, anyhow. No no, I'm fine, I'm sure. It's just . . . that coffee certainly tasted funny to me."
"You're all right aren't you, miss?" Driessen said. "Feeling perfectly fine?"
She was trembling, licking her lips. "Well, I . . ." Her eyes darted over the collection of American manhood at the table. "I . . . I'm . . . whew! What a hunk of men at this table! Six of you, no less!"
"You want a man, Carol?"
"Shit," Fred Foster muttered.
"You kiddin'?" Carol said. She was fidgeting, starting almost to dance. Her hand darted up and scratched a breast that, bare under apron and uniform, jiggled softly with her activity. "Me want a man?" She sidled a little closer to the table, seemingly scratching one thigh against it. "Me?" A long shiver went through her and expelled a breath in a gust. "Damn," she muttered, and began scratching her other breast. She visibly pressed her thighs together, tight. "I-I'm working! Besides, I-Christ yes I want a man!"
Smiling, Mickey White slid a hand straight up her leg and under her skirt. She made a little humming sound and her legs came apart. Mickey's hand found a lump of very wet flesh, tightly cinched up in wet nylon, and he nudged it with his thumb. Carol groaned and hunched that wet pussy mound to his thumb.
Time for my break, Carol!" the other waitress called. She sounded snappy.
"Yeah," Carol breathed, unsteadily. The word came out in a loop-the-loop. "Sure, OK Deb-hit the road. I can handle things."
"You want anything?" Deb asked, hanging up her apron. A man!
"What?"
"Nothing, thanks." "You all right, Carol?" "YESSS!"
"OK, OK." And Deb left
"How long's Deb's break," Driessen asked, reaching around to rub Carol's skirted ass. "F-forty minutes."
"Whew. We don't have much time. We'd better pull the blinds and lock the door, hmm?"
"Yeah! Right! Jesus, am I horny! Umm . . . here, big boy, let me get these rotten dam' panties off and you can get your thumb right in."
The six males stared-one of them smiling benignly, a beardless Santa Claus-while she did just that. Although Fred reached for her, Mickey pulled
Carol into his lap and began playing with her breasts. She reached back and down, and Fred's eyebrows went as high as Mickey's, although it wasn't Freds cock she was snatching at.
Smirking, Mickey said, "You want a cock, sweetheart?"
"Damright I want a cock! I need a cock!"
"Uh, Mickey," Driessen said quietly to the trucker. "I want to test my formula on a large cross-section of young womanhood. Tonight, if possible, if all of you gentlemen will be so kind as to help me."
T'rific," Mickey White said, groaning as Carol bounced.
"Now if thirty or so young ladies were clamoring for our attentions-" "THIRTY!" Cesar burst out.
Driessen nodded. "As I was saying, to Mickey-could you do your part if you, ah, climaxed now? It's two-fifteen in the afternoon," he said, adding the last three words in the event that the hot-and-both-ered Carol had Mickey so hot and bothered he didn't know day from night.
"Uh-"
"It is for that reason that I suggest we allow our youngest member to seek to aid Carol in her desperate need," Driessen said. "When one is seventeen, one can climax many, many times!"
"Hell, shit," Dave Griffey said, "what's so damned old about twenty-three? I'm a grade-A stud, man!" Cesar, meanwhile, stared at Carol and looked ready to pass out from sheer excitement and longing-and now, hope.
"What's all this dam' chatter," Carol demanded, reaching over and squeezing Fred Fosters leg. "Why don't we all go in back and I'll show you you don't have to sweat who balls me. After I've worn you all out, maybe we can round up an army or something!"
"Jesus," Mickey mattered.
"Cesar-" Doc Driessen said.
"Damn blabbermouth men," Carol said, and lurched up from Mickey White's lap. She had been eyeing Fred's crotch, seeing how his fly had grown tighter and tighter. She bent, her eyes bright, and whipped that zipper down like a champ. Fred, who had been hot for her for so long and who had been steadily put in his place by her, now proved that he didn't wear shorts. Five or six inches of red erection lunged from his open fly and stood tall and arrogant in the air, quivering with the throbbing of his heart.
Hoisting her skirt, Carol nudged his legs together, moved swiftly at him, astride his trousered legs, and held up her skirt with her arms clamped to her body while she opened her wet, shining cuntlips with both hands. She drove herself straight down the shank of his dick, and with such suddenness and force that Fred cried out.
Smiling, sighing, grunting, she began whipping her hips up and down with lunges and plunges and gyrations that could only be called frenzied.
Not a man of them had ever seen a woman go after cock with such gusto. Her strained face had gone slack. Her eyes were almost vacant as she bobbed up and ground down, standing, squatting, fucking herself in a sensual delirium. Wild wet sloppy noises filled the air, as rocky-hard cock sluiced up and down in juicing, flowing, steaming pussy.
Up and down she drove, up and down, with a grinding torque action that made Fred's eyes bulge. Again and again hot prime cock drove up through the pouting, cherry-red lips of her bottomless pit. The frenetically-gyrating young woman groaned and thrashed, stuck like a lovely butterfly on the standing pin of his long, thick column of maleness.
Driessen, White, Perez, Martin, and Griffey stared while the former tease rammed and crammed her pussy up and down on the seated man's big bone. Her juices rolled down it and darkened his pants. Both he and she were fully dressed, although her unbra'd breasts were going wild inside her uniform. And Doc Driessen wore a sweetly benign smile.
Suddenly the youth among them was on his feet His chair went over backward. He lunged around behind Driessen's chair and faced the bouncing waitress. With one jerk of his hand, Cesar Perez whipped down the zipper of his skin-tight black pants. His hand went inside; the poor kid had to hunch forward to get his hard-on out of his white briefs. And then everybody was staring at him, not at the fucking pair. Rather, everybody was staring at Cesar's cock.
The lean dark boy was maybe five-seven and weighed maybe one-hundred-thirty pounds. Unless the nine or so inches of big swollen cock he unreeled was capable of adding another fifteen or so pounds to his weight It looked capable.
"Doc's our leader," Cesar cried, "and he said me!"
"Shit," Carol cried, "what a hunk of-"
"-sausage," Dave Griffey suggested.
Leaning forward, Carol gave Fred a swift peck on the lips. "Mustn't disobey our leader," she said, and unsocketed herself in one upward heave of her legs.
Fred groaned as his liquid-streaming tool bobbed and waved naked in the air, dark-red and drooling pussy-juices onto his pants.
"I'd like that from behind," Carol said, her eyes bright as cat's-eye marbles on Cesar's pride.
He blinked, but she was grabbing his hand as she brushed past. He turned, to find her already standing against another table and bending forward across it. A little bowl spilled white packages of sugar and pink packages of artificial sweetener across the off-white formica. Carol didn't seem to notice. She wagged her upturned tail-then hoisted her skirts and showed it to Cesar Perez.
With a little cry, the wide-eyed boy lurched forward.
"YOWch!" she yelped, for he'd missed the one available aperture and bounced the big head of his dick off the other, higher-set one between her large white buttocks. She reached back and tucked him into her cunt in a hurry.
"Hunnnnghhhhh!" Cesar grunted, and shivered all over while the elastic flesh of the turned-on waitress's cunt, a very meaty and unusually snug cunt, enclosed his mighty bone like warm oil.
That long, massive hunk of male meat went into her, all the way into her in one shot, and like that his zipper was snugged right into a warm womanly ass like a pair of big peeled eggs while his tightly-clothed thighs pressed the backs of hers.
"God dammit!" Fred Foster said plaintively, grasping his cock.
"No no," Doc Driessen told him," don't do that You don't want to do that. Save it! Put it away!"
"Shit," Mickey White said, grinning. "He cant put it away. Not till that thing goes down."
"It's not fucking fair!" Fred snapped.
"It looks like a pretty dam' fair job to me, man," Dave Griffey said, getting up so he had a better view of the youngster shagging the waitress.
The softly-fleeced lips of her creaming cunt flowed like liquid up and down the youth's long, stroking staff. Slapping sounds rose as her naked white tail was paddled by his surging body. Moaning and almost sobbing, he was rocking back and forth to punch into that wet pink complex, his second, with sheer carnal thrusts.
Wagging her ass, the bowed woman pushed back in an effort to plug herself to the throat, from behind and up through cunt and belly and rib-cage. Inside her dress her tits jumped and swung wildly about, tugging hard at her chest. She was weeping in pure pleasure and relentless need.
Sex-syrup flowed. Her thighs grew shiny with it. It puddled on the floor, thick and whitishly clear. Lost in exquisite pleasure and chemically-enhanced need, she writhed her hips and thrust her butt back to grind into his crotch. The waitress's mouth dribbled moans and grunts. The moaning, abandoned woman's quaking cunt-hole fucked urgently up and down and back and forth on his supersensitized probe, all the way back to the balls.
And Cesar Perez stood there and sobbed and hunched and groped her naked hindcheeks.
Hung with a cock some women couldn't take, much less the girls who'd seen it and changed their minds, the youth soared about in the seventh heaven.
Every fraction of a centimeter of thick hot cock buried itself between her thighs, in and up and under her bare jiggling asscheeks, and in the squirming young woman's torrid cuntal corridor. Its juices splattered.
His lustful cravings matched the hot needles of lust that were tormenting her own flesh. She hung onto the table, moaned, and grunted out little cries of pleasure mingled with continuing need.
All the while, Doc Driessen sat there urging the boy to make it last, make it last, think about the World Series, think about the NFL playoffs, think about a car he wanted, think about the Super Bowl . . . think about anything but pussy and bare white ass and his dark hands on it and golden-furred cunt and cock and fucking.
Cesar hung in there and kept hunching. His loins splatted against her bobbing trembling ass.
Dave Griffey couldn't stand the inaction while her naked breasts jumped and jiggled around like a pair of waterballs on rubber strings. He reached out and got himself a double handfuL While Cesar kept balling and the waitress kept hunching back to him, Griffey's unclean hands cupped the smooth flesh of her shimmering, luscious tits.
He lifted them, fingers pressing in and palpating the soft surface of each succulent white ornament. His manipulations combined with the boy's deep-balling made her tremble and whine in swift-surging lust. Her breasts swelled even more in a beautifully helpless, totally automatic erotic response, seeming to balloon, thrusting forcefully forward. She stared at the tabletop, hardly seeing it through lust-soaked eyes.
The young enthusiast standing behind her worked and grunted. His jerking butt, small, lithe, and tight, slammed him in against rounded womanly haunches that swayed with catlike grace. He growled deeply in pure pleasure.
Copious secretions drooled down his thick cock-shank, which brought out more spurts of that lubricating juice with each partial withdrawal.
Then back he'd splatter it, hammering the oval-shaped jouncers of her ass. She murmured incoherently and writhed her eager body. Had anyone told her she'd said a thousand times that she hated men, she'd have said he was crazy-and she'd have said it loudly and with certainty.
Blond cunt worked hard on dark thick cock. She tried to remember to squeeze. That wasn't easy, with an orgasm rolling through her, with one guy balling her bowlegged and another handling her breasts as if they were oversize, offcolor tomatoes he was testing for ripeness.
She murmured incoherently and writhed her eager body. That's been said? Well, she kept it up. She did a lot of it. She was a bitch in incredible burning needful heat.
"Easy, Cesar," Doc Driessen said. "Think about ... Darth Vader. Make it last."
"Think about ya mothah," Mickey White said, and laughed. He was staring with eyes bulged out like gemstones set badly in undersized eye-sockets.
Cesar did his best to think about anything but f- anything but this great juicy delicious-Cesar tried to think of other things. And he kept moving, fucking as if his life depended on it, with his mind about to blow with the unbelievable luck and the thrill of it
Just a cawfee in a diner, and this kooky ole guy-and what a fuck!
The bouncing of her voluptuously ripe haunches added to the feeling this standing, doggy-style balling gave him. It increased the wonderful mindblow-ing sensation of giving in entirely to a primitive almost savage animal lust-right there in the brightly day-lit Wizard Chef!
Juices jetted and flowed, slow in their thickness, down her silky thighs. And Cesar's mounting rut was an ache in his skin-flailing balls. Boy, he tried to make himself think, and concentrate on; boy, did that Jackson ever knock that fuckin ball right outta the fu-the goddam park! Christ, what a ball player that black dude is, man. Oh Jesus, I'm going to co-
"Clamp those titties, you hippy bastard," the bowed blonde cried. "You afraid of 'em, man?"
The biker's face writhed in anger. "Clamp 'em, huh? Afraid of 'em, huh? I'll show you clamp, you fuckin' slut!"
Gripping the supple ivory balls of her tits in grease-dark hands, he twisted the meaty flesh in callous fingers. A throaty murmur accompanied her gasp as his hands mauled the breasts hanging out of the open front of her uniform.
He crushed those brazenly rounded pillows together until their cleavage all but vanished and she quivered in his grasp-and Cesar, grunting, jammed it in. Griffey clamped, worked the throbbing milky masses, pawed and squeezed until their nipples surged pinkly out into impudent, incredibly long extrusions. Strong fingers sank cruelly into the naked, soft flesh of the swollen, ripe bulges while he stared into her eyes, daring her to make a protest, oral or physical.
"Take it easy, uh, Dave" the scientist said.
He received a scowl. "She said clamp these jugs! I'm damned well fucking clamping 'em, man!"
"Take it easy," Driessen said more sternly, "or- you're off the team."
"Shit," Griffey said.
"Fuck," the woman said, and jammed back so hard that Cesar had to hang onto her nicely padded hipbones to keep from being hurled backward across the Wizard Chef and into the line of stools at the counter.
He hung on. Her cradling buttocks squirmed back while she crooned happily, urging him on, sucking him in, his crotch trying to crush her pulpy asscheeks and his cock losing itself between the muscular walls of her vaginal canal. He was muttering aloud-multiplication tables!
He heard their harsh grunts, hers and his, while he rooted into that tautly stretched, dripping slot With his youthful asscheeks drum-taut with strain and striving, he drove hot young cock up to disrupt pulpy inner women-meat.
Her Griffey-handled nipples were hard and purpled, in constant motion at the ends of the jiggling jumping masses of her truly splendid breasts.
Her cunt approached another orgasm with spasmodic clenchings.
A wonderfully soft though taut bundle of naked, ultimate femininity bowed before his rutting body, she responded hotly to the youth's vigor. Rich-breasted, taut-thighed, swivel-hipped, molten-puss-ied, the manhating waitress worked away under his rearward ministrations to her need.
Griffey sulked; unbelieving his good fortune. Fred Foster had approached and twisted around to suck a little titty. He loved that. He loved breasts, Fred Foster did. He'd loved his wife's. It was just that that damned Angeline had been jealous and tight with them as if they were each made of solid gold-or breakable as the finest white, blue-veined china.
Now Fred had all he wanted, and he hoped ole Cesar made it last, while he did his thing with all this naked jumping titty.
Artful male mouth massaged the pencil-thick nipples. Teeth and lips plucked and twisted, pulling them until those scarlet nubbins were even more rigid and aroused. She liked it too. She said so very clearly, though not in words; she was no longer able to say anything coherent.
Unconsciously, she parted her thighs even wider for the rutting, slogging, hard-fucking youth behind her. Between the very tips of those sturdy thighs, breast-loving mouth and cunt-loving dick had kindled a fast-burning fire that would develop on and on into a raging inferno that was already practically shrieking to be sprayed with thick male liquid.
His tongue swirled over her nipples. His hands squeezed, trying to feed more lithely muscular breast-flesh into his eager face. Her entire fired, bowed body was aquiver as if a high wind was blowing through the Wizard Chef become sexator-ium. Grunts and moans emerged from her open mouth, and they were almost sobs, and she couldn't get her mouth closed.
Cesar hunched and humped while the other man licked and sucked. The object of their doubled attentions moaned, grunted, bobbed and back-hunched.
Cesar could no longer keep his mind off squirming cunt, off bare jiggling woman-butt, off the wet seething clutch all around his cock.
He did very well, considering. The hot heaving Hispanic youth fucked her through two cunt-spurting orgasms and into a third before he went stiff as if he'd been jabbed in the ass with a poker. He cried out, clutching her, shaking, while he sped his load into her clasping, greedy vagina.
She sprawled face-forward onto the table, upsetting salt and Foster.
When the six men left the restaurant, the sweating waitress was holding the phone in one hand and diddling herself with the other, four fingers at a time. She was calling her boyfriend, whom she'd been refusing for months. When Deb came in later, the two were balling away on the table back in the kitchen.
Deb never knew what the shit had come over her co-worker.
Blond Carol the waitress was only the first to experience Doc Driessen's miraculous formula for sex.
Chapter Two
"What in heaven's name is all that noise?" Victoria Chambliss demanded.
Other girls, including the two playing pinochle, looked up-or were already staring past Victoria at the front window. Soon all the girls in the Delta Iota Kappa sorority house-including the housemother, Mrs. Munson-were clustered at windows and doors, peering out onto the street outside. Even though it was nicely tree-shaded and the time was just after sundown, all were able to see the two men creating the disturbance.
One was a dirty-looking biker, with a lot of auburn hair drawn back and tied with a piece of leather at his nape. The other was dressed in a suit with a necktie and soiled pants, right in front, at the crotch. The two seemed about ready to tear each other apart. And yes, all of a sudden the suited one threw a punch. Although it didn't seem a really hard-swung blow, the biker jerked and went staggering backward. Some staring girls frowned. Others started jumping or bouncing up and down in high excitement. Fight, fight! And neither of those was a campus boy, either.
"They've got no business on our street!" Victoria Chambliss snapped, as if she and her sisters of Delta Iota Kappa owned tree-shaded Anderson Drive.
"Wow! Who cares! Did you see that-if that cycle jockey had landed that swing the other dude would be seeing stars and moons!"
"Shocking!" Mrs. Munson said. "Simply shocking!"
"Why did they have to pick the street right in front of the house?" Alice Wheelwright demanded.
"Just luck, I guess," Anne Treece said, smiling and avidly watching. Boy, how exciting! She hugged herself, imagining those two handsome hunks were fighting over her....
"Stupid little slut," Victoria muttered, and six tongues were stuck out at her slim straight back.
"But why here?" SaraSue Randolph complained, forgetting that she was president and should set a firm, competent example.
"Why not? Do they need a reason to start their brawl here instead of someplace else?"
Indeed they did! For while the girls and their not-so-girlish housemother coveyed at the front of the house, watching out every window and the windows in the door as well-a slim dark youth in black pants was creeping into the back of the "Delt. L" house.
He followed his nose leftward into the kitchen, which was as deserted as every other room, except the sprawling living room of the large old building, formerly the residence of one of the university's founders. Cesar was surprised to find what these well-heeled young ladies were having for supper, and he approved. A big pot of chili was bubbling on the stove.
"Even sorority girls have good taste when it comes to supper," Cesar muttered, and could not resist tasting the contents of the great cauldron. He frowned, wrinkled his nose, added chili pepper . . . and poured in the vial given him by good old Doc Driessen. Next Cesar was kind enough to stir the pot, which in the absence of the cook was forming a film on top.
Cesar quickly split then, trotted down the alley and emerged between two houses well down the street. Licking his lips and taking a goodly breath, he whistled the agreed-upon signal to the two guys creating the diversion out in front of the house that Doc Driessen had chosen.
Then Cesar stared. The girls had come out!
He saw the tall, slim ash-blonde in the soft, soft sweater and so-perfect skirt That, he was to learn, was Miss Victoria Chambliss, often called Miss
Snooty-Snotty, and she was at present engaged in giving Dave Griffey and Fred Foster a piece of her quite good mind. Also present was an older woman who might possibly have a good bod inside that nowhere dress. "Housemother," Cesar Perez muttered, solely to himself. He remained carefully within the shadows of tall old trees enhanced by dusk. It was the best neighborhood he'd ever been in, and mother-of-god, how many sports cars there were parked along it!
Other girls were on the porch, steps, and front walk of the huge Early American house with its pillars and sign containing the three Greek letters. Most of them were hugging themselves, and all stayed well back. There was a third one right out there in the front ranks though, and what a woman! Only later would he learn that she was the daughter of the university president, and the reason the disgruntled and truly wicked Doc Driessen had chosen the Delt I house for his . . . field test. She was Henrietta Nettles, and she came in queen size, all over, and she was captain of the girls' hockey Women's Hockey Team, as of a few years back, and even as Cesar watched she strode forward and actually teampunched Fred Foster, who had been pretending to have a nice John Wayne brouhaha of a fight with Dave Griffey
Cesar's eyebrows rose toward his curly black hairline; Fred was knocked down!
That brought a moment of awed silence on all, even Griffey and Chambliss. Cesar seized the opportunity to whistle his signal again.
Griffey half swung, straddled his big hog, and kicked it into roaring life. As he started forward, one foot on the pavement, while he angled the handlebars toward the formidable Miss Nettles-Ms, as of a few years back-Fred dragged himself up from the asphalt. He swung on behind his new friend. Cesar started running, Amid loud engine noises and many cries in female voices, the big H-D bike passed him in seconds.
Without looking back, Cesar ran all the way to the rendezvous point. All he could think about was all those yummy daughters of well-off parents. And all that chili. He hoped $hey found it yummy, too.
The girls of Delta Iota Kappa meanwhile, were returning grumblingly into the house of their sorority, which was called, with a certain lack of both respect and fondness, the Rich Bitches House. (Sure, some called it Dick, too-Rich Dick, most often.) The young ladies headed promptly for the dining room, whilst cook, warden, steward, and four pledges hurried kitchenward. This was the night of their weekly meeting, and as usual they were in a hurry to eat and would do so with swiftness. That, of course, was why they were having something so prosaic as chili.
It smelled marvelous.
Thirty-two minutes later, the six hopeful males returned.
They found the sorority house steamy, and not just with the aromatic fumes of chili. They were welcomed with open arms and blouses by thirty-two wildly horny girls, the Rich Bitches gone ape, and by one woman in her earliest forties. Mrs Munson was just as much in heat as the girls she looked after, chaperoned, and counseled.
The five men and youth were conducted through the spacious, beautifully furnished living room, across the wood-tiled floor of the sprawling parlor, which also served as game room and lounge, and up a flight of handsomely banistered stairs. Griff made a squeaky noise as they ascended; a female hand belonging to an unknown body and lust-fevered brain had grabbed at his crotch.
Upstairs, they were led, ushered, shoved, propelled past several bedrooms-though several of their ushers tried to drag this or that male into one of them-and into a large squared room in which hung a Delta Iota Kappa flag. Here too, was a long table covered by a white and gold Delt I spread, fringed, and holding three candles and several important looking books, along with a ledger and a secretary's minutes book. The room otherwise contained some forty chairs, lined up facing the table, and a number of ashtrays and smoking stands. Four high-backed, indeed majestic chairs, stood like stern sentinels behind the official table up front.
Against it leaned a good-looking girl with short brown hair and glasses. She wore an open blouse, and hose, garter-belted, and one shoe. Her skirt and fiery-red panties lay crumpled at her feet. In her hand she held a large oaken gavel, marked in gold with the Greek letters for D.I.K. The presidential gavel, of course. She stood on one leg, with the other bent at the knee and resting partially atop the low table of officialdom so that she presented a most lewd picture indeed.
None of the six newcomers could have told how long was the handle of the presidential gavel of Delta Iota Kappa, or indeed what was at its lower end, for the girl leaning against the table and partially on it was busily dildoing herself with the gavel's handle.
She stared as the six were ushered into the D.I.K. Chapter Meeting Room.
"Men!" Her eyes sparkled. She actually paused for a moment or two in her energetic ramming the gavel in and out of her red-furred vagina.
"Gentlemen," someone called in a high voice, "our Chapter President, Sarasue Randolph."
SaraSue inclined her head in greeting. "Never let it be said that Delta Iota Kappa, ole Delt I, ole Rich Bitches, is lacking in hospitality to guests."
"Especially males!" a curly-headed blonde cried.
"Especially tonight!" a long-haired brunette added.
"We come bearing gifts," Doc Driessen said.
"So long's they come," a girl cried out, and no one admonished her; they only tittered. She was wearing | her sweet little pink sweater bunched up around her throat, making it easier for her to pinch and wring both her fiery nipples.
"Gifts?" SaraSue Randolph queried.
"Beware Greeks bearing gifts!"
"We ain't Greeks," Cesar said, clutching the hand that had appeared high between his legs, from behind.
"Gifts," Doc Driessen nodded.
"And what are the-uh!-nature of these gifts?" President Randolph said, with as much official dignity as was possible for a girl who was coming all over a large oaken gavel.
"Cocks!" Dave Griffey called out, and stepped forward to display his gift
A great chorus of delighted noises arose. His gift was obviously accepted by all present.
SaraSue extricated the dripping gavel from herself. She extended it to Griff. "Trade you," she said.
"We bring six such gifts," Fred Foster said, getting into the swing of things. The no shorts wearer, he displayed his own offering, which, despite his afternoon's experience, did not yet show blue balls.
"Aha! And there are thirty-two of us!" a squeaky-voiced girl said, eyeing the nice cock Fred Foster was displaying.
"Rank," SaraSue said, lifting a magisterial finger, "hath its privileges! Officers firstl"
"Bitch!"
"Fair enough," Mickey said, at last finding voice among this impressive collection of daughters of considerable income. He stepped forward to take his place beside the biker and the assistant manager of the FastShop Super Market. CAT cap on head, Mickey looked about while he opened his pants. "Where's the vice president?"
"Mel President in charge of vice!"
Amid the clamor that rose at once, a sweet-faced old gent in rumpled clothing paced past the line of three bare-cocked males and moved around behind the official desk. Next he reached around the young woman leaning against it. Deftly, Doc plucked the gavel from her hand.
"Tsk tsk," he commented, wiping its handle in the long hair of the nearest girl. Then he rapped the gavel, hard, and again, and slowly silence slipped over the assembly. Eventually all eyes were on him. Almost all.
"Officers of Delta Iota Kappa! Step forward-if you are desirous of sexual congress with my stalwart crew."
With some pushing and some holding, the officers made their way to join their president. They lined up; president, vice president, treasurer, secretary, and Chapter Historian. The Warden And Steward Were Turned Away Grumbling, As Being Lesser Officers. Steward Rothschild, dropping to her knees before Fred, was rudely pushed aside from behind, and turned to find a stern-faced SaraSue Randolph standing over her. Muttering, Rothschild joined the ranks of the impatient waiters. Muttering, Fred stared at Driessen, silently bidding him hurry it up.
"Clothes," Doc Driessen said, seating himself in the chair no one sat in save Delt I presidents, "Will be Removed." The chair's back towered above his angelic white-haired head.
"Let there be a general movement throughout the land," the disgruntled warden said. She stood behind Bill Martin, hoping no one saw her fondling his ass.
And there was a general movement, and soon clothes were everywhere except on bodies. Some few articles of clothing were retained; stockings, garter belts, one set of crotchless pantyhose, two bras-one with open tips through which thrust pink nipples like the pretty pink noses of cute kittens-and various pieces of jewelry. Last to strip completely was Mickey White, who was in truth pretty nervous about such a group-grope scene. He was being groped, too.
"Jeee-zusss," he said, looking around. "I never seen so many-there aren't this many titties in Pent~ houseF
Then he surprised everyone by making the first move; the naked trucker-naked except for his CAT cap-took a step forward and clamped each big hand around the wrist of each of Marianne Cooper's wrists. Marianne was the Chapter Historian, And A Bit Beyond Being Pleasingly Plump. She Looked Just As Surprised As Everyone Else.
"Little darling" Mickey said, 'let's blow this joint."
She gasped, met his eyes, looked down at his semi-erection. "Is-is it all right if I just blow it enough to get it up and then we fuck?" Marianne's voice matched none of the rest of her; it was high and tiny.
Mickey looked nervously around. "Uh-well . . . could we go someplace else?"
"Officers," Doc Driessen intoned in a voice of officialdom, "must lead and be visible at all times."
"Meaning we get stuffed here," SaraSue said, and she wrapped a hand around Grif s erection. "C'mere, you mean-looking biker you. You a hell's angel?"
"A Heaven's Devil," he said, exerting the muscle that made his cock jump in her hand. "And I've done plenty of ballin in front of an audience-but I never humped it to a president before!"
"You little devil," vice-president Helena Eriksson was saying, looking down into Cesar's melting brown eyes, "where ever did you get this great big whang? Do you know you're the smallest dude and the biggest penis I've ever made it with?"
"We haven't made it," he said, lowering his head, and staring her nipple eye to eye, so to speak.
She tugged, bending her knees. "Then let's get it on, you living doll."
The historian-or maybe it was the treasurer or the secretary-stepped past them, past Fred, and plastered her naked and very slim body against Bill
Martin. While she hugged him, she murmured in her ear.
"You remind me of my daddy," she told him. Tm a Psych major-did you know that every girl wants to ball her daddy?"
He quivered, then nervously let his hands move inward to rub her small round buttocks. "Your da- uh, I mean ... I may not be capable, Rose. I mean-in front of all these people... ?"
"Are you dead, daddy?" She ground her tight little breasts against his chest
"Absolutely not," he assured her, watching Marianne and Mickey stuff Mickey's dick into Marianne.
"Then you'll be capable, darling, 'cause only the dead can resist your loving girl's big loving mouth."
And Rose knelt before the forty-year-old credit manager, and. he grunted as she used one hand, a wide-open mouth, and her tongue to make his soften vanish into her face. Her finger began playing with his ass crease. When they encountered the hand of a sorority sister, Rose only patted the fingers-and sucked.
A largeish girl with small breasts and a lot of wild red-brown hair bent over the presiding Doc Driessen, who was watching Cesar, on his knees behind the hands-and-knees Helena, enjoy his second dog-fuck of the day.
"Uh-Mister President," the largeish girl said.
He turned mild gray eyes to look into hers. "Call me Doc."
"Uh-Doc . . . Im so horny I hurt . . . but . . . I'm a little nervous, and with all these others ... would you tell me what I should do?"
Doc pushed back the presidential chair. "You should get down out of sight, let your calves and feet go back under the desk, and amuse yourself practicing fellatio on me."
"S-Sir?"
He stroked her nipples. "Hit your knees and give me some head," he bade her.
She smiled. "Right! And no one will even be able to see!" She knelt, tucking her lower legs and bare feet back under the desk. "You-you won't come in my mouth, will you?"
He smiled and pressed three fingers against her lips. She licked them. "Sweetheart," Doc told her, "at my age I may not come until tomorrow afternoon."
Also smiling, the girl whose name he did not- know bent her face to his groin. He didn't know her office, either. Maybe she was the treasurer; she was certainly treasuring his cock, he thought as he gazed on the others with that Santa-Claus-smile.
None of the girls wanted to waste any time, as Driessen had expected. Marianne and Mickey had wasted the least; they were on the floor of the Chapter Room, Already With An Audience. The Girls Behind Mickey Were Admiring The Soles Of Sister Marianne's feet-and Mickey's naked, hairy, bobbing ass. From deep in her throat, contented noises formed and purred from the overweight girl's open mouth. Thrills of enchantment-he had chosen her! He was balling her, whom slim Victoria so often called Gutsy, made her shiver all through her meaty body. He was fucking hard, so that the huge, jerking length of his big truckdriver's erection plugged her little pussy deeply and lasciviously. His body lunged hard against the fattened, up-bulging mound at the base of her fattened and up-bulging belly and his hairy thighs worked between the satiny smoothness of her very round and chubby thighs. Her legs pumped air and she gasped, full of the coiled spring of lustful craving, as yet unappeased.
Nearby, while a titsy girl with multi-colored hair fondled his bare ass, quiet Bill Martin stood with bulging eyes. He quivered all over. He stared down. What he saw was the top of Rose Peterson's head. The kneeling Psych major was sucking madly, strongly at his swelling organ, sliding her whole face up and down the blood-engorged shaft of meat.
Lovely, Doc Driessen thought, while the kneeling girl at his feet licked his own ropey old cock. Martin deserves this. Mister Meek, age forty-standing over a hot and lustful cocksucker of about nineteen. Called him Daddy, eh? Ah, the old incest yearnings! Then he grunted; on her knees between his thin, widespread thighs, big Alice Wheelwright drew at his soft penis with leeching lips.
As for the other man, the oldest of Driessen's recruits-he was unable to be still under the impetus of the hungrily-milking mouth of the kneeling redhead. The credit manager's blood tingled and raced in his veins, and he began moving.
"Wow-w-ww," the girl behind him muttered, and she lovingly fondled his ass. "Whatta man!"
With rocking hips, he was fucking his "daughter's" face, because he absolutely had to.
Watching glassy-eyed, Miss Snooty-Snotty Victoria Chambliss was pinching hell out of one of her truly gloriously-shaped breasts and rubbing her pale-furred crotch in the manner of a young woman who knew what she was about. She did. Victoria had discovered her clitoris at age nine, and she'd been in love with it ever since.
Doc reached over to pat the brown-haired head of SaraSue Randolph. She was bent forward across her presidential desk, grunting and whoofing while the naked biker long-dicked her presidential cunt from behind. She turned her head toward Driessen, rubbing her head against his hand like a cat.
Doc did so, laying the round-lensed gold-framed specs beside her on the table. He gave Grif a little smile. The biker winked. Standing behind her. spraddle-legged, his boots planted firmly and with the young woman's hips gripped in his unrelenting hands with their filthy fingernails, he whipped the full length of his hard-on remorselessly in and out of her body which quaked and was rocked by nervous spasms-and shivers of pure carnal pleasure.
Leaning a little forward, he moved his hands, sliding them along her bare flanks, then under her to cup the girl's dangling tits. She squealed, and Doc was certain she came, right then. How nice for her, he thought, knowing that many young women of her age were never able to relax enough to climax.
No more then two feet away, big Henrietta Nettles was staring at Fred Foster.
To horny young supermarket toiler had fallen the Chapter Secretary, A Tiny Girl With Large, Very Jumpy Breasts And Nigh-Straight Brown Hair, Center-Parted And So Long it covered her back to the dimples above her well-developed buttocks. As she had automatically started to mount Fred, he had assumed the dorsal position beneath her. It was great to let her do the fucking-and to watch the way her good pink titties danced and bounced and swung all over the place.
Strong thigh muscles deliciously bulging, her calves rounding out as she raised herself, the anxiously moving girl established a rhythm that was most pleasantly stimulating to them both. Up and down she bounced, clicking herself right up the middle.
She uttered incoherent gasps and made little sob-bing sounds. Her dark eyes rolled loosely while she screwed herself with might and main-and utter delight at being prodded straight up the center of her passion. Shining like polished ivory, her naked floppy tits swayed and jolted entrancingly, wildly. They heaved and shook, sank and swung-swayed, danced and bobbed irrepressibly. The sex-charged sorority secretary fucked her man with tremendous energy and zeal.
The vice president and her young latin lover had every reason to be delighted that she had chosen him, though she was several inches taller. While he rummaged about inside her deep large vagina, Cesar happily and devotedly ate Helena's breasts. Shudders ran sexily through the delectable, jutting circumference of each lovely hemisphere he mouth-loved.
While his tight, tiny ass humped to power cock into her, he pretended to feed on the cherry-pink bullets her nipples had become. His tooth-squeezing of her tender buds made her whine. Her fingers leaped to his head-but twined themselves lovingly in his curly black locks and pulled his head to her, while she tightened her buttocks beneath her and thrust her deeply-sliced cunt up to the happy youth.
With his thick meat buried between her twitching legs, be began to dig with rapid strokes in and out of the moaning girl's lust-fired cunt. So he'd come a few hours ago. That was forever, to a seventeen-year-old! He balled her hard and drew strongly on her nipples with his pursing Bps. Clear sap dribbled from the sprawled collegiate as her pussy worked on the thick erection that plied it She loved it! Fucking was great! And everybody was seeing it happen, watching her make it with a boy, a male! Now no one ever need know that she'd been a virgin about eight minutes ago, despite the fact that when she'd gone on the pill two years ago, hopefully oh so hopefully, she had the doctor open her hymen for her. She'd never tell anyone her terrible secret-virginity at age 22-although it would be nice to let him know that he was her first . . . Some other time!
He stroked in deeply and pulled slowly forth, guiding his lean pelvis in such a way that his jamming organ raked every tissue of her hot, clinging pussy. Mother-of-god but she was tight and hot inside! He was aware, almost as of pain, of the clasp of her cunt and the tight vibrating of his own body. A fog of lust rose about his pounding form and grasped his brain until his vision dimmed.
Bill Martin wasn't doing so well.
Despite the girl kneeling before him with his cock in her mouth and her head racing up and down on it, despite the other one behind him, playing in between the cheeks of his ass, tickling at his sensitive anus, despite the one who was trying to kiss his cheek, Bill wasn't high and hard. He had been having a hard time for years, and as far as he knew it was age, though he had plenty of desire. How could he know that being low man at the office and catching so much flak from his wife at home had been working on his manhood, had begun the slow ghastly process of making him impotent? He might have guessed, had he thought about it. After all, he did fine when he jacked off....
That thought gave him an idea. When he jacked off, he always imagined either Ethel, the huge-breasted blonde at the office, or ... his wife. Clara. In the bathroom, beating his meat with saliva-slick hand, he closed his eyes and saw Ethel, beckoning, begging him to make it with her, make her happy, while she stripped off blouse and big white bra and showed him a pair of watermelons the color of snow. Or, with his eyes closed, he saw Clara. She wasn't beckoning. No. In his masturbatory fantasy, Bill Martin had conquered himself, gotten over this quiet chickenshit meekness, and had conquered Clara too. And Ethel was helping him...
While his new friends balled, and Doc watched and was mouthed, and all the other girls-and Miz Munson-stared at the wild activity in the Chapter Room Of Delt I, Bill Martin Closed His Eyes. A Hand Played With His Sensitive Ass. Fingers Slipped And slithered in its crease. A loving wet large mouth slurped up and down his dick. And he saw himself in another setting, with Clara, and Ethel. . . . He had already told Clara off, and when she tried to mouth-off at him he punched her a little until she sobbed and groveled. Now, as the naked Ethel grasped her arm, the naked woman trembled. Bill and Ethel pulled her to her feet. She looked around. They were in a punishment chamber for rotten wives. She had no idea what they were planning to do to her with all these devices. She moaned in despair when she was led over to a rough-wooden table structure that was a replica of an old-time rack for the torment of just such captives as herself. Ethel grasped her left arm while Bill lifted her onto the table. The two spread Clara's ankles-they were good, slim ankles-really wide apart and fastened leather manacles on them. Then her arms were jerked and stretched out and she felt the leather cuffs being tightened around the soft skin of her wrists. Rough wood pressed against her naked back as she stared at the ceiling and trembled in terror. She tried telling him she'd never be a bitch again, but Bill climbed up onto the table, naked, and sat on her tits. He shoved his penis at her face and ordered her to eat dick. She did. For the first time in her life, Clara Martin gave head. She sucked Bill's cock. To Bill, it was very exciting, and he saw that it was for her, too. His cock grew and grew, strained and broadened and thickened, turned red and lengthened, became one hell of a male fucking instrument in the mouth of that soft sucking woman....
"Wow-w-wwww!" the girl playing with his nipple breathed, and the one behind him with a centimeter of her fingertip up his ass echoed the appreciative sound. The girl kneeling before him, meanwhile, spluttered and sniffed.
Bill opened his eyes. The dungeon and Ethel and Clara vanished. He was in the Chapter Room Of The Sorority House, And There Sat Old Doc Driessen, Beaming At Him. Doc Winked. Bill Looked down.
"Wow," he said, for one part of the fantasy scene hadn't vanished. He had a big, fat throbbing scarlet hard-on, and it was far more than the redheaded Rose could handle in her mouth. She rolled her eyes hopefully up at him.
He glanced around. God, all these people. Could he fuck in front of all these eyes? He didn't know. He was proud; felt about ten-feet tall. Had a better, bigger hard-on than that cocky fart-ass motorcycle hippie, by God! And suddenly, Bill Martin was grinning. Hell-o yes, he could fuck in front of all these fuckin' dam' people! The president of Delta Iota Kappa was squealing in happiness, and Grif's ass had gone rubber-band tight while he shivered. He was coming!
Grinning, Bill Martin half-turned and kissed the tallish brunette beside him. "Thanks, sweetheart"
Then he slid a hand into Rose's hair, withdrew his huge erection from her face so that it snapped upward and rapped his belly sharply, nipping a shinning droplet of her saliva into the air. He kissed the girl behind him, who was small and fleshy. "Thanks, sweetheart," he told her, and palmed her breast. She smiled. Then he turned back to the girl kneeling at his feet
He spoke words then that were not like any he'd ever uttered before.
"Get up and get stuffed, sweetheart," he told the gasping, sniffing redhead. Behind her, Grif was staggering away, spent, and SaraSue just lay forward over the president's presiding desk, groaning and gasping and panting. "The president is out of it-it's tune for the secretary to take her place on the sacrificial altar and-uh, get stuffed!"
"Oh yes, oh yes Daddy," she said, her eyes shining as she rose hurriedly.
"Daddy yer hot little ass," he said firmly. His hand caught her breast, gave it a squeeze. "I'm Bill, and I don't have a daughter, and I want to fuck!"
"Absolutely, Bill darling," she told him, squeezing his cock. And she told herself way back inside her head. But as soon's I'm bent over that table and you start shoveling it to me, Mister, Tm gonna close both eyes and think it's Daddy!
As they replaced Grif and SaraSue before the cloth-draped desk, Bill heard two comments on the size and beauty of his erection, and he stood tall and swelled his chest. People would think him crazier than ever if they knew he'd been surrounded by all this young woman flesh and had fantasized that it was his own wife going down on him, he thought. But by God, it had worked, and here went Miss Rose Peterson, right over the moon on the end of his prong! He beamed down at the saucy, well-spaced jrink cheeks of her upturned bottom, and he guided his cock right in under them, into the split center of the red-furred bulge of her vulva.
He started his entry into her waiting, softly-fleeced young pussy, pressing forward against her outthrust ass and feeling her labia opening up to become a straining cock-shaped ring around his inglid-ing erection. He looked down, watching it go in.
Slowly his lower belly pressed more and more firmly against the excitingly firm mounds of her rear-cheeks. The swelling oval shapes quivered, parted, resisted being flattened with a muscularly resilient strength. Rose was compact, all right! All the strength of youth was in her muscles, and her ass was tight and firm as a seventeen-year-old tail could be.
In went his questing stave, to be immersed in wet warm flesh.
"Oh, it burns, it burns... burn me up, daddy!"
And Bill Martin, stud, began fucking hell out of her from behind, while nearly thirty pairs of eyes watched and admired and respected him. And felt just for him....
Chapter Three
The secretary of Delta Iota Kappa had come three times, riding her chosen man, and she was streaming sweat. Because the friction was different and not so terrific lying under a woman this way, Fred had not come. He blinked and groaned when he saw the girl with the long, long hair sag . . . and slip sidewise to the floor. His dripping, angrily-red cock lurched up into the air and slapped down against his belly. Its slitted head was pointed straight up the center line of his chest. It throbbed, visibly.
Shit, he thought, she wore herself out and got her rocks off like a freight train! But what about me?
He had forgotten where he was, and that he was surrounded by naked, lusting young women. And one who was not so old-but as Miz Munson started toward him, a slim, cute youngster elbowed her aside and a moment later was astride his hips, beaming down at him.
"Hi! You look like you need help. I'm Gretchen. Fly me!"
"Don't pay any attention to that slut, handsome! Remember me-Rebecca Rothschild. Bug off Gretch- I'm steward around here, and next in line-and besides I saw him first long ago!"
"How," sweet-faced little Gretchen said sweetly, "would you like your nipple bitten off, turkey?"
Rebecca stared at the smaller girl. "Look; pledge, go to the end of the line and stand by for suitable punishment of a snip who makes physical threats to an activeV
"Ladies-" Fred began, and then his eyes goggled the more. "Oh shit!"
Between the two had shouldered another Delta I, and shouldered was the word for this . . . chick. If there was anything small about her, Fred thought, it must be her ears, which were out of sight under a helmet-like covering of curly hair, bobbed short. She put a large hand on the shoulder of each of the other two girls.
"Physical threats? You two couldn't get physical with a kitty-cat! Bug off!"
Black-tressed Rebecca with the long breasts writhed under the fingers digging into her bare shoulder. "Come on, Henrietta, you can't muscle in like this. I'm an officer of D.I.K.! You heard the-the- that man." She nodded toward Doc, who was smiling sweetly and watching Bill Martin hump the bejesus out of a pleasure-sobbing redhead.
"DOC!" Fred called. His eyes remained fixed on Henrietta Nettles. He well remembered how the big gal had decked him earlier, outside, while he and Grif had been staging their phony fight to let Cesar get in and-make all this possible. To hell, he thought with firmness, with Henrietta the jock! Let her go fuck a lamp post!
The three girls were staring at Driessen when he turned his mild eyes their way in response to Fred's anguished call. Doc's hand was busy, stroking the face of the large young woman on her knees between his legs, totally out of sight, finger-fucking herself while she lapped and sucked his cock and balls.
"Ah-the warden, isn't it? Of course she's next in line of succession," Doc said, and gave Henrietta a firm look.
Fred never knew why everyone obeyed Doc. Maybe because he was the oldest, and had just taken charge-and was, after all, seated in the high-backed chair of authority behind the desk draped with the sorority's banner. But obey they did. Big Henrietta's face fell. She looked down at Fred, then at his cock. Head bowed, she turned away.
"Madam Steward," the grinning Fred Foster said, "c'mere!" As he reached a hand up to her, he looked up at the pledge, Gretchen. She was leaking tears that were big quivering shimmers on her cute little cheeks. "What you need," he told her, "is Cesar. Go over there, squat or something beside him, and . . . wait. You two were made for each other."
"Shit," she shockingly snapped, "I'm not looking for a relationship. I just wanta get fucked!"
"Uh-I've never been ... on top, before," Rebecca said, with her face close to Fred's. She must make a stirring sight, he thought, from behind, with her kneeling like this beside him and her ass turned straight up at the ring of hopefully waiting and watching onlookers.
"Good," Fred said, and in seconds she was flat on her back and had her darling little pussy stuffed full of the cock of a man who'd been divorced all too recently and had not balled for all too long.
"HOOOOOOHHHHH!" she whoofed, and her eyes were enormous.
"Gee you feel nice," Fred told her, and started shagging.
Elsewhere in that steamy room, no less than four young ladies were concentrating their attentions on Dave Griffey, who lay flat on his back with his head in the warm, naked lap of a fifth. He had pumped his load, blown his balls, shot his wad, and was knocked-out just now. But Anne and Jeannie and Debra and Victoria-yes, Victoria-were bent on correcting his temporary tiredness, along with the flagging state of his slippery penis. Jeannie, who had never made it with a male but who had sucked rather more than one cunt in her nineteen years, was licking his cock and balls, tasting semen and cunt-juice, moaning in need-and with two fingers shoved right up inside squirmy Debra's hot little snatch, which Jeannie had blown just last night or rather very early this very morning. Debra gave her no attention now; she was sitting right beside Grifs head, tweaking his nearer nipple with one hand and her own with the other. Across his chest from her was Victoria, shooting dark looks at Jeannie and Debra and Anne Treece-who was kissing Grif s toes, one by one-and lightly scratching the biker's other nipple. With her other hand, she was rubbing her lightly-furred pussy.
Grif turned his head her way. While he reached up and squeezed Debra's breast, he said, "Victoria old love."
She raised her eyebrows and looked sweetly, expectantly, hopefully down at the naked male, whose sweat she could smell. "Hmmmmm?" she queried, musically.
"Fuck off. I don't like you. I don't like your snooty face or your silly tits or the dumb schoolgirl way you mess around with my tit. Get lost. Fuck off. Go find a baseball bat and squat on it"
Lip trembling, Victoria turned away and sat sagging, staring at the floor. Tears ran down her face and splashed onto her "silly tits", which were small and absolutely lovely, with great swollen aureoles.
"Oh-don't you like attention to your nipples?" Debra asked, ceasing that attention.
"Love it baby," Grif said, looking at her and pulling at her breast. "Come down here and give us some tongue."
Debra bent, her naked breasts falling onto the supine man's chest, and she was soon receiving a violent, lip-crushing kiss that filled her mouth with swinging, leaping, twitching tongue. The soft flexible flesh in Jeannie's mouth began to swell and pulse as Grif s lust flared anew and his cock commenced to grow.
On the floor nearby, Rebecca's hips writhed frantically and her mounded breasts jiggled and trembled on her heaving chest. Fred's chest hammered them. Like a fiery brand, his cock stabbed into her, into her softly wet erotic deeps. His own naked male ass bobbed and twisted with his wild pumping.
Seething, Martha squatted beside them, and in that position her calves bulged and her thighs went taut and her black-furred cunt opened like a scarlet flower. At Fred's bidding, Rebecca reached over and thrust two fingers up into that seething, needing blossom, while Fred fucked Rebecca and Rebecca finger fucked Martha.
He powered the meat to the girl's whirling, sucking inner maelstrom of flesh. It was wet, running juicy, very warm. Squeezing and seething, the channel sheathed and contained him. Fred couldn't imagine why he'd ever stuck it out so long with An-gie. This was better than it had ever been with her.
Demanding pussy screwed up and down and undulated to gain every micro-inch of his dick. Supple young thighs surrounded his driving hips with soft-skinned erotic flesh. Hungry each for the other and frantic, soaring, their two bodies plunged and kinged and churned violently. Rebecca's lust and nearness to orgasm grew, and her fingers jammed more and more violently up into the other girl's supple vagina. With gasps and groans, Martha squatted there happily accepting the finger-fucking- and aided it by rubbing her clitoris with more enthusiasm than expertise.
The heat of lust burned like a scarlet flame in all three hunching bodies and whirling brains. Inside the sprawled sorority girl, Fred's stone-hard cock jerked uncontrollably. Seething hot pussies squirmed and gyrated, glided and sucked on driving fingers and deep-seated dick, lurched and stabbed.
"Are . . . you ... on the pill ... or something?" he groaned out, feeling that final tightening of his and backbone that was like a trumpet call to ounce his imminent orgasm. The girl's deep-brown eyes went wide. "Oh! No!" "Then ... got to... get out... of you..." "I AM!" Martha cried out, and seconds later Rebecca was whimpering, her hand clamped over gaping cunt, while Fred forced himself to pull out of her and plunged his flailing burning prick into her sorority sister's hot, hairy crotch.
Martha squealed, urged her hips and breasts and belly up to the mustached man, and pumped up with all her might.
"Ee-easy," he gasped. "Get . . . your hand on . . . Becky's cunt. I saw that you know how to rub a clit-rub hers, Martha sweetheart, while I try to hang on... a little longer!"
He fucked with short, rapid-powered strokes that sent vaginal fluid flying, pouring forth in thick streams from her drenched slot. Meanwhile she fingered the other brunette's rubbery little clitoris with deliberate teasing strokes and occasional firm pressures that made Rebecca squirm and cry out while a warm tingling bathed her genitals in liquid fire. Her senses swayed and she clutched her olive-hued breasts in tight, finger-gouging grips no less barbaric than the grasp Grif was nearby applying to Debra's soft titties.
For the first time in her life, Jeannie, the girl who had known only girl-to-girl love or rather lust, had licked and suckled at a male crotch. Now, for the first time in her life, the sweet-faced girl with the jasper-colored hair was sucking a rampantly erect male organ. An honest-to-Priapus hard-on.
Grif s cock had come up again, while he tried to tongue out Debra's flexing throat and gave almost vicious squeezes to her soft droopy breasts with theii teensy pink nipples.
Jeannie made a discovery, real fast: she liked what she was doing!
She who'd tried it only with other females discovered she loved male dick, loved the kneeling act known as cocksucking.
She liked, too, the way slim-fingered hands roamed and probed her gasping cunt. For behind her squatted Kathy, who had despaired of getting the man her hurtful vagina told her she wanted. Now she fingered both her own and Jeannie's slick-slipped slits and stiff flashy clits.
Kathy made a good job of it. She was very famil-iar with brown-haired Jeannie's auburn-furred cunt and twiggy clitoris.
Kindly Miz Munson, herself wild for sex for the first time in ... a long while, had noted Victoria's pitiful distress. She had come over to hold the tall slim girl in a motherly embrace. Motherly . . . and like a child, Victoria helplessly sucked away at the older woman's big reddish-brown nipples.
All by itself Victoria's hand just slithered down and began to rub through the mossy pussy fur that covered the housemother's meaty mount.
Quivering, sounding as if she was humming, Miz Munson pressed the young woman to her breast and tried to pretend that she didn't know about the darling sweet loving fingers that were playing so sweetly with her long-unused cunt.
While . . . only a few feet away, Fred was almost in pain from the coursing of the blood through his temples when he lunged and tugged and lunged. Christ, what a fuck!
His huge rod went in and out of the prostrate Debra like a motor-driven piston, while she rubbed off the dark girl beside him. Tremulous fingers slithered through silky girl-hair and into welling girl-juice and stroked twitchy, swollen trigger. Both girls, sisters under the skin in the sorority parlance, moaned and shuddered and sighed. And Fred Foster pumped.
He had fucked-or rather, been fucked from above, by-the secretary, until she had popped off three climaxes and passed out in a surfeit of orgastic release. Then he had transferred his cock into her sister Rebecca, and screwed her until he thought he was about to come and had discovered that she was unprotected against his egg-seeking seed. And now he was in his third wet tight young pussy; wallowing on the third happy, wel[x]ming young body-and he was blowing his balls.
The young supermarket assistant manager felt himself toppling groaning into a kaleidoscopic vortex of the deepest pleasure. His breath came hard while stars seemed to explode into novae inside his head. Hard-ejaculated cream wrenched from him and jerked his body with every spurting jolt.- It poured into her belly in the transmutation of exploding lust into satiation.
She cooed and squealed and her eyes rolled loosely as she concentrated on the sensation, the feel of that warm liquid being high-pressured into her private nook.
After that, Fred lay as if dead. Fucked three, came in one, he thought weakly, and like a glutton in a room filled with food, he wanted more, more.
Another anxious Delt I aided Debra in sliding his dead weight from atop her. Then, strangely, the newcomer let Fred lie where he was while she applied her lips to Debra's open-mouthed cunt. She pressed her face in on that red-lipped, open pussy and solved the whole problem of protection or non-protection: she sucked out every last droplet of Fred's cum, mixed with the groaning twitching De-bra's vaginal cream.
There was little attempt to stop Henrietta from approaching the panting, gasping, sprawled Fred while he lay with his eyes closed and his chest heaving.
The big girl, lifted him with a grunt, and carried him from the Chapter Room On Sturdy, Calfy Legs. There Was Some Bitching And Grouching About That, True. But No One Cared To tangle with Henrietta. Not only was she big, she was sensitive about her size, and in truth, she hardly knew her own strength. She wasn't mean. She was dangerous, though.
Carrying the exhausted man she'd earlier punched and now found helpless, his penis like a limp noodle long soaked, she vanished along the hall. She turned into the room she shared with a couple of other girls. Those two wisely remained in the Chapter Room. That Windowless Upstairs Chamber Now Smelled Strongly, Thickly, Wetly Of Sex And Semen And Lustful sweat and open, exuding cunt
Behind the draped Chapter-Room Desk, Big Alice Wheelwright Rooted In Doc Driessen's Crotch. She Sucked A Fat Red-Veined Erection that she had raised all by herself. Her first. Since she kept her eyes closed and never looked up, she didn't know that another had sidled over and was being tit-sucked by the brilliant old scientist. His face wore an expression of angelic pleasure.
His second lover was called Betsy the Bust, a mere pledge of seventeen and from off-in-the-sticks somewhere at that, chubby and possessed of a forty-two D bosom.
With an expression of entranced content on her face, like a lovely painted cow being sucked of contented milk, Betsy the Bust stood still-except for the quivers and gentle rolling of her broad hips. She ran her hands lovingly, gratefully through Doc's thin, silky-soft white hair. She had so much breast there was little room left for aureoles-pale-and small nipples. They were, however, very, very sensitive. Betsy sighed. Doc sucked Betsy. Alice sucked Doc's cock.
Two pairs of fondling, cunt-lapping girls rolled accidentally together, became involved, and were soon one quartet rather than two pairs.
Munson held Chambliss; Chambliss sucked Munson's teats and twirled her thumb around up in the housemother's well oiled cuntal folds. Munson only held the girl; no one cared do anything sexually nice for Victoria Chambliss, Miss Snooty-Snotty.
Deliberately rubbing and abrading her steadily redding vulva on the sprawled Grif s skungy motorcyclist's boot, Kathy meanwhile tongued Jeannie's crotch and twitching clitoris. Kneeling spraddle-legged to aid that effort while she sucked Grif's cock, Jeannie moaned and fondled his balls. Debra also knelt over him, bent forward with her soft longish titties dangling. Her face was screwed up-but she did not move while Grif steadily slapped the joggling swinging white pendants back and forth, turning them steadily red.
"Shit," Grif muttered, "this is the fuckin' life! Hold still baby, move and I'll kiss you off forever and you can go hunch a fireplug!"
"A VIRGIN!" Mickey White's voice rang loudly out, and there was a ragged chorus of titters. None of them issued from the soft pink mouth of the plump girl he had been tit-sucking and cunt-fondling, while one of her fellow Delta Iota Kappas fondled the trucker's hairy ass and squeezed his nuts.
"I- I'm sorry," the plump girl squeaked. "It just never-you know, happened."
"It's all right, Sharyn," Mickey murmured, stricken with an acute attack of the gentles. He cupped her unopened pussy gently and kissed her ear. "I'll be gentle."
Kathy scooted out from under Jeannie fast, when she realized that the hand messing around with her bared, trimly-clipped and therefore irresistible cunt was male. She saw that it was the wiry youngster with the curly black hair. She also saw that he had another hard-on. She noted too, that he was hardly alone. Mary Gooderidge was playing lovingly with his balls, and the Chapter's Other Kathy, Kathy Mosteller, Called Jugs, Was Nestling Close To The Boy, Kissing His Ear And Cheek And inhaling the aroma of his jet-black hair.
"Why do you have to go messin' around with her," Jugs said plaintively. "Don't you like me-e?"
"You!" Mary snapped. "I had him first-I made this lovely thing hard again, dammit. Kathy-go lick Jeannie's gash!"
"I do not," Jugs said with some hauteur, "lick gashes. Or vaginas either."
"I wasn't talking to you," Mary snapped, frowning when Cesar bent his head way down to press a loving kiss on the other Kathy's almost naked pubis. "I was talking to the other Kathy. As for you, Jugs-why don't you go shove your hand up Chambliss's hot quim! Look at the bitch fingerfucking Miz Mun~ son!"
Cesar lifted his face and looked from one of the three to the other. "You will hush," he said, with a tone and air of mastery aided by his being so much in demand. "You are sisters, and this is not nice talk. I cannot make up my mind. I love you all. I want you all. Are any of you officers of this sorority?"
"Shit no," Kathy said.
"Not me," Jugs said. "I've barely been initiated!" "Hardly!" Mary chuckled.
"Then we don't have to stay here. Why don't you nice girls take me somewhere else?"
"Wow!" Mary said with anticipatory enthusiasm. "An orgy!"
Jugs looked around at the room, wallowing in orgy, and chuckled. With all this action going down, just the four of them would barely comprise an orgy-ette! She said, "My room!"
"Mine," the other Kathy said, with a hand on Cesar's cheek. "It's at the other end of the hall."
"Let's go."
The four of them left the Chapter Room, Noting How Bill Martin Sat On The Floor With His Back Against The Wall And His Legs Spraddled Wide. He had an arm around each of two girls. Both were mere pledges of seventeen and eighteen, respectively. A third girl-Honors Student senior Pat Bauer, no less-knelt between his legs and mouthed his cock. The two pledges were giving the same treatment to his nipples. One was also playing with his navel. The man of forty was grinning like a cat from a well-known county in England: Cheshire.
Cesar, Kathy, Jugs and Mary split.
As they passed a closed door along that hallway, they heard the pulpy slapping sound, the splat of flesh. Someone had punched or slapped someone, behind that door.
"Whose room is that?" Cesar Perez demanded, stopping abruptly-so abruptly that both Jugs and Mary took three more steps along the hall toward their goal at its other end before they could shift gears and hit the brakes.
"Henrietta's," Kathy said, "Henrietta Nettles," Jugs said, her Jugs swinging wildly when she turned. "The big, big one?"
"Yeah. She left a while ago with the guy she punched outside, earlier. He was conked out"
"Fucked out," Jugs amended.
Cesar looked indecisive, then firmed. He hardly knew the guy, Fred Foster, but-as of tonight, they were buddies. All six of them were in this thing together.
"That's my buddy, man," he said. "I gotta stop that big bitch!"
He was grabbed by two suddenly fearful females. "No! She-Henrietta'd knock you right through the wall, man!"
"Come help me, then," Cesar said, and wrapped his fist around the doorknob.
Just then they heard the voice from inside. It was unmistakably male; Fred Foster's voice.
"There, bitch, that's for pushing me outside! Now getcher big ass up off the floor and see if you know how to kiss!"
"You-bully!" Henrietta's voice came, low and almost whimpery, so that all three of Cesar's new friends looked absolutely astonished. "And don't call my ass big!"
"I'll call your big ass big if I damned well want to, Hank! Now-"
"Don't you call me that! My name's Henrietta!"
"Henrietta's a rotten dumb ugly name, and Hank's cute. Get up, or I'm going back into the Chapter Room And Get Me A Real Woman-Hank."
The four eavesdroppers in the hallway pressed close, holding each other, fondling, holding their breaths while they waited for the reply of the captain of the Women's Hockey Team to that. At last her voice came, tinier than any of them had ever heard it.
"Cute? Me?" There was another silence. Then, "W-would you help me up, Fred?"
"Sure, doll-and if you try anything, I'll pull that paddle off the wall and turn yer big ass the color of that bedspread!"
Grinning, nodding, Cesar propelled his three playmates along the corridor toward Kathy's room. "What color is Henriet-I mean Hank's bedspread?"
Jugs giggled. "Purple!"
Laughing, the four entered Kathy's room-and locked the door after them.
Griffey's voice rose from the Chapter Room. "Gimme My Jacket, Baby. I'm Chilly."
"But-it's all dirty and greasy, Gri-ifff. It'll get on
"That's it, baby. Nobody talks back to Dave Griffey. Bug off, alla ya. Go fuck yer fuckin' fists. HEY, Vicky!"
"My name," Victoria Chambliss's voice returned, with dignity and Snooty-Snotty tone, "is Victoria." "Uh-huh. I like yer nice slim bod. Ya wanna ball?" "YES!"
"Come'ere, Vicky."
Sniffling, long-faced, Jeannie, and Debra with the red breasts went to the housemother for comforting. She sat on the floor, legs open, her pussy drooling. Extracting her fingers from it, Victoria launched herself with beautiful catlike sinuousness to her feet. She went to the grinning young man she wouldn't have spat on, just a few hours ago. He held up his arms, his hands open but cupped expectantly. Carefully, bending her knees a little, Victoria Chambliss fitted her breasts into those hands.
"Don't like being called Vicky, huh?" He squeezed. "What do they call you then?"
He was squeezing pretty hard. Her face tried not to screw up. She answered almost in a whisper. "Victoria-"
Three other voices, from three different areas of the Chapter Room, Answered Grifs Question A Lot More Loudly.
"MISS SNOOTY-SNOTTY!" they called, in jagged chorus.
Victoria's pretty face writhed and she squeezed her eyes shut. Grif grinned. He tugged at her breasts. His hands dimpled the skin, deeply.
"Come down here, Miss Snooty-Snotty. Turn around, baby. Kneel over me so I can admire your snooty-snotty ass, and get that snooty-snotty mouth wrapped all around my dong!"
"I have never-"
"Do it, Vicky, or go fuck a telephone pole!"
Her Hp trembled and she stared, hesitating, considering . . . while Doc Driessen's formula made her cunt boil like a forgotten pot of sugar-thickened water.
A few seconds later, Grif was admiring the nice, white, smooth-skinned cheeks of Miss Snooty-Snotty's upturned butt. Nice long ovals atop nice smooth, glistening thighs. Skin like silk. A truly beautiful, slim body. With her back to the sprawled Grif.
As she was bestriding him, those long oval cheeks were nicely, indecorously and bemazingly split. He liked that. That way he could admire the tempting, tiny coil of her little anus as well as the ashy blond-furred pouch of her sex, which looked like a stuffed, taut purse she wore between the tops of her thighs. It was very pink. He watched its lips part as she bent lower over his loins.
As her mouth slipped over the big dark knob of his cock, he pushed his longest finger directly up her snug and hot pussy.
Victoria stiffened and made a squeaky little noise, from the throat. From the very base of the belly, in fact. From the cunt. For the first time in her Me, she hunched, gently bobbing her lustrous butt, on a long rough dirty finger firmly entrenched up inside the sleek, soft, yet ever-cleanly hole of her loins. And Grif grinned, and poked in deeply.
Also for the very first time in her life, she filled her patrician mouth with cock.
She trembled and twitched when another finger, wet with Grif s saliva, inveigled its way into her virginal anus. It hurt a little. She knew it was nasty and disgusting. Yet she didn't dare say anything. She-she liked the finger in her itchy-needy cunt. Her body was boiling over! Her vagina was boiling. She wanted that finger, and she'd accept the other one. She wanted cock!
Ah, Victoria. She had fingers, and wanted cock, and she didn't know it but she was about to get the presidential gavel.
Chapter Four
There wasn't a great deal of space on the carpet in Kathy's room, which she shared with two other girls. Yet there was more space there, on the nice softly-carpeted warm floor than in any of the three beds. That is, when accommodations for four were necessary.
Cesar Perez was in the eighth heaven. Until today he'd been almost virgin, and for all he'd got out of those two experiences he might almost have well been pure virgin. Now . . . now he'd fucked that squirming demanding waitress this afternoon, and another girl a little while ago-the sorority vice president no less! Helena, was that her name? He thought so. And he'd seen more naked female bodies than he could find in a year's worth of most men's magazines. And better; they were really naked, all the way naked, and mobile, tits moving thighs rippling cunts peeping open and looking hungry, wet, glistening with oil. And a bunch of them had messed around with him. He didn't even know how many.
And now ... he was alone in a nice warm room on a nice soft rug with no less than three entirely naked young women, and one of them had ba-zooms like overgrown gourds or canteloupes with stems, and one of them was even blond! Furthermore, all three were hot and horny and wanted him, him, Cesar Anthony Perez. And not a one of them was even about to call him spic or greaser. He'd heard both, in his seventeen years. He knew he'd hear both again. But not tonight!
Two of them were trying to kiss his cock all at once. They were succeeding, too. The third, the Kathy who was called Jugs, was kneeling beside him and leaning way over. She damned well knew her best asset, and she was dangling those over-developed assets over his face.
"A fellow could smother in all this meat," he said, filling his dusky hands with white flesh.
"Just in case you're a tit-man," Jugs said.
"I am, I am a tit man!" he assured her, squeezing-and with his other hand reaching down to pat cock-licking Mary's bare pink ass. It felt very nice. It must have felt nice to her, too. She wiggled that most shapely posterior so that its smooth skin caressed his hand. "Also an ass man," Cesar said, squeezing tit as if he were trying to bring milk.
Kathy made a slurping noise over his cock, and twitched her hair out of the way to look up the length of his torso at him. It was a heavy-lidded look the girl languished on him. Her fingers toyed gently with the undercurves of his tight young balls. Dark eyes challenged him.
"You better be a cunt man, man!"
Cesar's tiny belly rippled with his chuckle. "Oh yes! Oh yes! I am a poosy man, Kathy . . , and I love the pretty pink way yours shows up."
She gave him a rather simpering look. "I shaved it just for you," she assured him.
"Oh sure," Mary muttered, and reached across Cesar to run a couple of fingers up and down her sorority sister's nakedly shorn pubis. The lips trembled, independently of Kathy's all-over quiver of instant response.
"You were playing with the pretty poosy of that girl messin' with Griffey," he said thoughtfully. "And licking it, too?"
Kathy made a face. "That was just until I could get a man."
"Hmmm," Cesar said thoughtfully. "Well, tonight you get a boy, not a man. I am only seventeen."
"Just my age!" Jugs breathed, leaning farther over, considering whether to go ahead and shut him up with twenty or thirty pounds of incredibly full, white tits.
"Terrific," Kathy said, "'cause I'm just a girl anyhow. I mean, I'm only eighteen.
"I love older women," Cesar assured her.
She smiled. "Wouldn't you like to slip this nice big banana right into my pretty naked poosy?" she asked, imitating his pronunciation.
"You make fun of the way I talk?"
"Heavens no," Kathy swiftly blurted. "I love the way you say 'pussy'. It's the same way Sean Connery did, in that Goldfinger flick. 'Poosy Galore,' he always said."
Cesar chuckled. He had seen the movie on TV. He remembered something else Connery had said, when that bosomy blonde introduced herself. "I must be dreaming," Cesar imitated. And his three poossies giggled.
Then, while Mary continued licking his cock and all around it, up onto his flat lower belly, and Kathy occupied her mouth and her swirly lively tongue with his balls and her hand with his ass-crease, Cesar gave full attention to Jugs's jugs.
While she bent over him, he clamped onto both her dangling treasures. With one tit in each hand, he squeezed the voluptuous swells and their nugget tips, cupping under to test the weight of the big weighty fruity baubles, feeling the sleekness of then-superb skin, making the kneeling girl sigh and gasp and go red-faced in a rising tide of delight and accelerated passion.
In all three of the young ladies of Delta Iota Kappa, Doc Driessen's formula continued sending out its mandate: sex, sex, fuck, suck, sex, get laid . ..
The wiry male hands roving so passionately and possessively over her bosomy treasures had honey-tressed Mary writhing and her vaginal deeps aching for the fulfilling surge of hot, skinned cock.
Under the impetus of her rising libido and his loving hands, her girlish little nipples became spongy, deeply-pink erections that demanded to be tasted. With thumb and finger, the supine boy caught the left extrusion.
Stretching it as far from her chest as he could, deliberately holding her back from bending with his hand planted firmly against her other big breast, he flicked his tongue over the very tip of her left nipple.
She gasped just beautifully. A lustful surge set her titillated tit afire. A big quiver went through the pendent jugs. He lapped her nipple and lapped it, mouthing the rigid rosebud while his hand remained clenched in the crinkly aureolate flesh just behind it.
Mary and Kathy, their heads together at Cesar s cock, were whispering. He made a grunting noise when Kathy's fingertip crept just inside his anus.
With his face lifted to the hard little cherry tipping Jugs's jug, he slipped the extended morsel between his hps. The sighing girl's aroused body prickled with gooseflesh. She didn't even bother to see if anyone was looking. All rules were down tonight, and all modesty. She just thrust her hand down, plucked through the reddish curls of her bush, found the damp, heat-radiating split in her muscularly taut and spongy pubic hillock, and stroked it.
She grunted aloud when her fingertips teased over her clit trigger. The boy sprawled on his back was making slurping noises at her nipple and kneading both her massive breasts in his slim hands, which looked so dark in contrast with her bone-white breast flesh. She tickled her clitoris, then shoved two stiffened fingers right up into her cunt. Viscous-sliming lips opened, flaring around her fingers, and she sighed. The breasty girl wiggled her fingertips while Cesar wiggled his tongue. He tickled the thickened nipple; she tickled the interior of her pussy. From the hot pool inside slid molasses-sticky juice, thick syrup with tiny white flecks of white in it.
Then Cesar groaned and lurched, and his teeth sank accidentally into Jugs's big tit. He had to push hard to get her to lean up a little, removing the dangling outsized gourds so that he could lift his head and peer down the length of his body.
He found himself staring at a grinning Mary. She was sitting on him, astride his thighs. He no longer seemed to have a cock. Every bit of it was standing up inside the wide-hipped little blonde with the pretty dimple in the chin of her heart shaped face and the lovely gray eyes above. She smiled at him.
"Mary!" Jugs said accusingly. "That's not fair!"
"I heard you two whispering," Cesar said, glancing from Mary to Kathy. She, too, was grinning.
Kneeling up, she was showing him her fledgeling pink pussy.
Both Mary and Kathy nodded. "We were whispering. We decided not to wait. Mary gets to go first. Then me. Then Jugs," she said, as an afterthought, with a glance at the super-titsy girl.
"That's not fair!" Jugs said again.
"Hmp!" the boy said. "I will not be coming fast! Not this time. But it's true-it's not fair to pretty Jugs. Ah, I know-come here and lick her pretty poosy, Kathy!"
"That's dirty!" Jugs snapped.
"Bigot!" Kathy snapped right back.
Cesar considered. "Look here," he said after a while. "All three of you want cock-"
"NEED cock!" Mary amended. "It feels so-o-o-good!"
"-and I have the only one here. I could even make Mary get off me."
"Oh please don't." Mary jiggled a little, making him groan at the feel of her snug cuntal walls caressing his hard-on.
"So-that puts me in charge, and I want you to bring your pretty hairless poosy to me, Kathy-and while I taste it, you will taste Jugs's." He reached up and cupped Jugs's jug again, looking between the big bubbles at her unhappy face. "You will do that, Jugs. And you will love it!"
"Kathy's the one who'll love it," Mary said. "Kathy loves cunts."
"How'd you like a fist up yours?" Kathy said men-acingly, though she had already started to comply with Cesar's demand.
"I-I feel as if I already have one in it," Mary said in a shaky little voice.
While the other three arranged themselves, Mary began rather tentatively, to move. Truth to tell, she felt very lucky. Though her breasts were about the size of lemons, neither was as shapely, and she was very sensitive about them-particularly around the over-endowed Jugs! Too, Mary had quite a curvature to her belly, and was scared half to death she'd be fat. Naturally she thought tiny-breasted girls and women were worse looking when they were fat then bosomy ones. And then Kathy was so expert with her tongue, as many members of Delt I knew. And too, Kath made a sort of religion of keeping her pink pubis so cleanly shaven, and Cesar had said he loved it
Mary felt very lucky, then. It was she who wa astride his slim, slim hips, wearing the rigidly erect club of his hot young hard-on all the way up in her womanly hole.
Watching the other three start their little lick-suck action, Mary began a slow jogging one of her own.
Swiveling her hips left and right, she fucked herself. She gave it to herself happily and well with long, slow, powerful riding-gliding strokes that filled her with hot cock to the womb. Each slide down that greased pole made her shiver in delight
A vision of happy loveliness looming over the happy boy now kissing Kathy's naked cunt, she anxiously ground her own body down to split her crotch and dislocate her stomach on his sky-reaching penis.
He felt her inner squeeze. That made him groan so that air rushed into the open-lipped, smoothly-shaven bulge of pulpy flesh at his mouth. The frantically fucking doll was doing her best to squeeze and clench her cuntal muscles around the hard virile length of his prick. He felt it. It felt wonderful.
He passed on the reward to Kathy, licking inside the wet lips of her snug-lobed young pussy. But Mary had her own reward. Her fluids seeped down in hot little gushes to coat his dark-haired nuts.
The youth's hand moved constantly. His fingers sank into the flesh of a huge breast he could not even see. It felt nice. He heard the sighs of its owner, and knew it felt nice to her too. She was getting what he was giving Kathy, as well: the delightful ego-building sensation of mouth at genitals.
A lesbian, huh?
Wiggling his tongue between full pink lips and into their tight slit just as his cock was going into another, he flicked wet tonguetip at the scalloped lobes of the supposed lesbian's inner lobes. Warm slick fluid seeped out of the lustful burrow. It slicked his lips and his chin, which was pressed into hairless cushiony bulge-flesh like a nice little pink pillow.
He sucked up that womanly oil, and he swallowed.
He drew her cuntlips too into his mouth, feeling little stubble with the tip of his tongue. He didn't mind. He could stand that. He liked a shaved pussy. And he loved the one juicing up and down, up and down his standing cock, too.
The dark-skinned lad moved his lips and tongue and teeth over the puffed folds in ever-changing pressures. In the same way, his fingers were never still on Jugs's breast-or rather in it, as he was pressing hard with those ever-active fingers and the yielding flesh was accommodatingly enfolding them.
Hearing the happy gurgle that rippled from the titsy girl's throat, he knew that Jugs was no longer a bigot about being girl-licked!
And as he nibbled at Kathy's slick cunt, filling his mouth with its spongy soft flesh, her entire body jerked with salacious and convulsive swerves and humps and twistings.
He slid his other hand up to pat her ass, which thrust up above his chest. His hand ran on down the silky back of the young woman's thigh and leg, sprawled out to his left. And the ardent boy continued eating her. While the equally warm soft lips of Mary's cunt glided up and down his cock with the blonde's steady riding, jogging movements.
Fuck and suck, Cesar thought. Shit He'd never go to one of those movies! This was far far better than the real thing, and these gals a lot better looking then any pictures of X-actresses he'd seen.
Tremors and hot juices filled both avidly-sucked pussies. Tremors and hot juices filled the cock-stuffed one as well. Three girls soared in voluptuous rapture, three sisters-under-the-skin with the same guy, and was he getting under their skins!
He soared even higher, hardly able to believe what was happening to him. Fleshy tongue slid from Lis mouth, licked about at the inner surfaces of in-flamed and twitching cuntlips. Kathy came.
He felt it. He heard her. Lucky girl! She came big, groaning.
The panting blonde now showed a tiny film of perspiration on her upper hp. She continued her lithe, swift-pumping action, forcing the convoluted tissues of her wet young vagina to open wide and fold in all around the boy's massive standing shaft. Her azure eyes were vacant. She was moving her luscious body like an automaton, set on full automatic.
Having fucked herself into a sort of sensual delirium, the blond girl kept right on pumping
Kathy s mouth made Jugs come, shrieking. Cesar heard her, loudly, and he gave her nipple a hard pinch. He heard thumping sounds and the breast left his hand. Jugs had collapsed and fallen over backward. At once Kathy scrambled backward, slithering sidewise across his chest. He kissed a jig-gly titty as it went past. Then she was pressing her cunt-smelling mouth against his cunt-redolent lips while she scratched at his nipple and wriggled on him.
Kathy paused. She told Mary that her turn was up. Mary made a whimpering sound and tried to twist her cunt onto Cesar's cock so that they couldn't be separated.
Suddenly hurling Kathy off, Cesar twisted about He grasped Mary's well-padded hip and turned. The blonde squeaked and fell onto the carpeted floor, on her side.
Swiftly he turned Mary onto her back. Her eyes bulged happily as he lunged back into her wet open pussy.
Kathy sat up, frowning, and stared. She was torn between envy and anger, and extreme interest in seeing what she'd never seen before: a guy shagging a gal in the ole missionary position. Dark lithe body on pale one; Hispanic pigmentation balling into Celtic-pale body. Very interesting, Kathy thought Very pretty, Kathy thought, and watched. Her tongue emerged to wet her lips and her eyes sparkled like gem stones.
Cesar's brother had come back from service bragging about what it was like to be fucking and to look down into pale eyes, a sweet happy pale face framed by blond hair. Cesar damned well wanted the same experience, and he looked down at blond Mary Gooderidge while he slammed very hard into her, five hard ramming cramming jolting times up her squishy pussy. She squealed aloud, and looked as if she was in some sort of a trance.
Beyond her, he saw Jugs, lying on her back with one leg slightly up. One hand lay on her cunt, whose lips were ajar. She was motionless.
Cesar pulled out of Mary and swung to Kathy, who was squatting, watching with a dark expression. Her eyes widened as he came at her.
"Wait!" she squeaked, when tie boy with the jumping jiggling dripping cock pushed her over onto her back. "Wait, wait! I'm a-I've never made it with a boy! I'm a vir-"
Hairless lips splayed around incoming male. Long thick hard cock drove straight into her vagina, where no male had been before . . . though many tongues and fingers had been, and once, a vibrator (in the hands of Clissy Mcintosh, who had graduated last spring).
"Boolshit," Cesar had said, and he had rammed into soft, juicy, open cunt. Nor was there any hymeneal membrane to bar his way to the moist mus-cous lining and folds way, way back inside Miss Kathy Norman's previously unmanned vagina.
"Ghhu-u-u-ooonnghhhh-glglglgl-l-lLL!" Mis Kathy Norman replied.
"Never made it with a boy, my ass! How does that feel, inside your beautiful naked poosy?"
"-hurts ..."
"Hurts?" Cesar's eyes went very wide. Mother-of-god, Madre-de-Dios as his mother said-could it be true? That is-have been true? This sexy voluptuary had never made it with a male before?
It was true. Kathy hadn't! Tongues had been up her welcoming cunt as far as they could stretch and be forced. Fingers had tickled around inside her, and even imitated the slithering in-out fucking action. The smooth nose of a vibrator had nuzzled just within her coraline hps, finding the gristly little clitoris there and bringing her off in next to no time. She had lost her maidenhead at age fourteen, to a finger-two, really-gone berserk with their owner's sexual frenzy. That had scared her, but it was long ago, now.
Thus the only hurt she felt was the expansion of her never-expanded vaginal canal, as Cesar's big thick cock waded in.
There was no membrane to burst. There was no blood. And with each passing second she was liking a cunt full of cock, better and better. And better still. Besides, she had been well-licked, and was coated with saliva and flowing oil-of-pussy.
Cesar took it easy. He pulled back very slowly, paused, pulled back a little more, feeling the hugging glide of her tissues on his. Then he let his prick glide gently back into her snug furrow.
Her eyes ceased being wide and fearful. The auburn orbs were dreamy. She looked drugged. She emitted long sighs. Her hands moved restlessly, fingers curling and opening, amethyst ring flashing. She made gibbering noises, which were far from ugly. Her entire organism told her it wanted to cream, wanted to turn liquescent.
Muscular, wet, never-probed cunt sucked strongly at the strong, violent, probing cock that plunged far back into her now-gaping hole.
Schlurrrp... schlup! Schlurrrpp...
Four people listened to Kathy's pussy take its first cock. Twitching and tingling all through her totally aroused organism, the auburn-haired girl ran her hands over her first male lover's wiry, firmly-muscled body with greedy appreciation and anticipation.
"And how do you like fucking?" he asked quietly, slyly.
She stared glassy-eyed at the ceiling. "I love it!" "Not a lesbian, then?"
"I just-I just never tried this! Fuck, darling-fuck me forever!"
Jugs made a giggly sound of delight. She tucked three fingers up inside her wet self and wiggled them around. And she watched with avid, bright eyes.
Warmly ensconced in the saddle between the other girl's splayed and tensing thighs, the excitedly humping boy rode her. He ground down onto the soft feminine belly in which he buried himself. His wiry young form was pressing close, digging into hairless cunt to fill the liquescent crevice and ream out its convoluted folds with powerful, smoothly flowing punches up the cunt.
What felt like thirty or forty inches of cock zoomed up her cunt and whacked her in the pit of the stomach. She let out a squeal like a mating cat Both her legs shot straight up and kicked the air. "I LOVE it!!"
She came violently alive under him. She moved, jiggling, bucking, a natural at sex who pressed the floor with her heels and palms to hunch her loins up to her dark-skinned lover. He hung on, and rode.
He could feel her body thrusting strongly and eagerly up against his and her plump, firm-fleshed and soft-skinned titties rubbing into his chest. It felt great. There was nothing quite like tits, for pillowing a man's chest!
He pounded her with his lean hips. His body rose and fell over the sprawled young sexpot while he stuffed his prick up her receptive "virginal" channel. Racing pulse sped the blood to his head until he felt a little giddy, and he slowed his movements.
She looked nervous about that for a moment, afraid he was going to stop. Then she smiled and joined him in the slow, relaxed, easy in-ing and outing. Now he had slowed his fucking strokes to a metered rhythm, while he lay on his elbows to play with, to caress her smooth and glossy tits. He liked the way they looked so pale under his bronze-skinned hands.
Jugs watched, with four fingers up inside her own quim. Rocking over onto one buttock, she thrust her other hand into her rearward crack. Her bird-bright eyes watched the fucking couple.
He shuttled around inside the auburn-tressed girl. He pinched her nipples because he saw at once that she liked that, and he shuttled his hips from side to side, back and forth, delighting in the sheer wanton lust that registered on the lovely young woman's writhing features.
Would it have made a difference, had he known her father was a federally-appointed judge with a home big enough to encompass the apartment of Cesar's family, and six others as well? Would it have made a difference, had he known that the only reason she hadn't had a debutante's "coming out" was that her father thought such pretensions ill became the offspring of a man on the government payroll?
Maybe, and maybe not. Just two young people, a couple of lads enjoying a great fuck-which was also being enjoyed by two watching non-participants.
Cesar was delighting in the sheer unadorned fact that he was fucking] Fucking girls, a girl he would never have dreamed could be his, the property of his cock, her tight, turriculate. tits the property of his squeezing fingers, which were arousingly darker than her breast-flesh; her naked, smoothly-shorn pubis and its long snug inner canal the property of his delving Latin cock; the planting place for his seed....
That reminded him. "Are you protected?" "Hmmm?"
"I am not wearing a rubber. We don' want you pregnant."
A shudder ran through her sinuous form. This time it was not a spasm of high pleasure. "Oh! Ugh! No! Please, you mustn't! Wh-what can we do to prevent it?"
He marveled. She was a sex enthusiast. A girl of good family in a good sorority. Anglo. A year older than he, and a college student. Yet her words indicated that she knew nothing about the prevention of what a sick old man in Rome called the only red purpose of fucking: a baby in her belly!
Before he could formulate a reply, Jugs did.
"You could take it up the ass," the super-titsy girl said, gliding nakedly up beside Cesar and fondling his naked, tiny butt. "I've heard about that My sister married a Catholic and they had a baby about nine months and three hours after they were married. She finally told me the secret, just about a month ago, 'cause they haven't had any more babies in three years. She takes it up the ass."
"Cock?" the humping boy said, practically squeaking. That was something that sounded profoundly nasty, not to mention painful.
"What else?" Jugs asked, with a little smile. She tickled his anus. "My sister even says it's round ... the anus, I mean. Just penis-shaped, see."
"Jesus Christ!" Kathy snapped, shocking Cesar again. Such cursing was wicked. "What else is there? I cant take it there-I won't!"
"Well," Jugs said, reaching in under to fondle the boy's dangling, wet balls and incidentally to tickle
Kathy's splayed-open, cock-stuffed pussy. "There's douching, of course. Like, the moment he comes you could run like hell for the bathroom and wash your-self out like crazy. But... that doesn't always work."
The girl beneath Cesar had gone very still. Her vagina seemed less wet, and tighter. It hurt his cock a little. He ceased moving. Shit!
"Wh-what else, then? I better not take a chance, if it isn't always safe."
There's lining your vagina with foam and stuff," Jugs said, enjoying herself, "which you haven't Jane. There's the pill, which I happen to have been for almost a year now. There are coils and things you can have installed-diaphragm." She laughed. "And there's the rhythm system. My sister says that people who use the rhythm system are called parents'"
"My gosh! I haven't-I don't have any of those things!" Kathy said.
And so Jugs made her suggestion which she'd been after all along, and so Kathy reluctantly bade Cesar's pleasantly distending penis a bonny adieu, and Jugs smiled triumphantly and held out her arms, crooking her elbows a little in order not to squeeze her magnificent mammaries together between her own arms. She could have used shoulders twice as broad to accommodate the massive balls slung almost from her collarbones to her lower ribcage.
Cesar knew that, though she had spoken mostly truth, she had deliberately set out to get him out of Kathy and into her own pretty little box. He liked that. It was more than nice to be wanted. Still . . .
He went a little contrary. He told her he wanted her from behind. The heavily-hung girl was worried about that. She made him promise not to put it up her ass. He assured her that he would never never do such a thing, and she saw his distaste.
The girl called Jugs assumed the hands-and-knees position. Massive jugs dangled.
He stared at the proffered, slender orifice she presented, framed by the rising oval walls of her asscheeks, spread out in all their feminine splendor. Her breasts hung nearly a foot beneath her. The long pendants were shaped like great pale melons on thick stems.
He knelt up behind her and pushed dripping, violently-dark cock straight into the split of her proffered purse.
She grunted. Cunt opened. Cunt swallowed cock. Cock nestled in deep. He kept pushing until she had to brace herself a little more firmly; he was crammed right against her upturned buttocks and pressuring her forward with his strong surging to be in her all the way to the limit of her pussy.
He leaned over her back. "You feel very, very good inside, you super-tited chica," he said, calling her by a name his mother used for his sisters. Actually "chi-chi" would have been more appropriate;!
that meant "tits". His hands reached down to fondle those heavily hanging chi-chis.
"You feel good in me, chico," Jugs proudly said, for she had taken Spanish in high school and remembered a few things.
Grinning, he decided to go for broke. He would go ahead and come again, up the juggy girl's fine juicy pudding-pussy.
He pulled slowly back, until just the head of his circumcised prick was inside her. Her body clasped it between thick wet lips that were as if lined with sponge or foam rubber. He eased slowly back in, happily hstening to her vocal sigh. And out he drew again.
Madre-de-dios, the fourth cunt his cock had occupied today!
Or was it the fifth? Who cared?
He braced up behind the kneeling, bowed girl, laid hold of her hips with both hands, and started fucking to puncture her cervix.
His pelvis snapped sharply against the juggling hills of her swaying ass with slapping sounds. Cock drilled deep. She grunted, groaned, sighed, and let herself down onto elbows and knees, angling to get her cheek on the carpet. Her spearing nipples touched it, felt its surface that was at once soft and yet rough against sensitive a pair of surfaces, slid over it in a way that sent heat flooding through her.
All, all through the long swollen dangling masses of her breasts.
Bending even lower, she deliberately tormented those over-generous tits by wriggling her sensuous body about in rhythm with the pulse of the heat waves.
They poured through her until she was a shuddering mass of thrilled pleasure. Slap ... slap... slap.., The impassioned girl groaned beneath his slam-ming, rotating body, taking pulsing youthful cock all the way, way up inside her-and jamming her cunt backward in search of more.
Shit, she mused, they had to find a way to keep this boy here with them, so they could do this all the time! She made a mental resolve, though her brain seemed assaulted by purple fires and was staggering, starting to burn: She would learn what he did, and whether he was looking for work.
The wiry youth had his work cut out for him, right now. He humped her bowed body with libidinous hunger and some violence while she hunched her slippery pussy backward with powerful surges. He heard her big white tits slapping together, and he grinned.
Neither of them noticed when the watching Mary began playing rather idly with the breast of the watching Kathy, who had a hand in Mary's crotch.
To the kneeling young woman, her hot humid pocket felt as if it was ballooning, distending, bloating lewdly and prodigiously. It circled big around the thick staff enveloped in its constricting folds.
Someone knocked on the door.
Jugs and Cesar paid no attention. Sex-captivated, they fucked. Mary groaned and half-rose. Her eyes went from the lunging humping pair to the door and to Kathy, and back to the more interesting sight of Jugs's big long jugs jigging and swinging beneath her while the olive-skinned boy with the black, curly hair rooted into her so vigorously from behind.
The knock at the door was repeated, with more force. The two lovers didn't seem to notice.
Grouching, Kathy went to the door. She muttered. Someone muttered back. Kathy made a muttering reply. "Well dainmit," a voice said loudly from outside, "It's my room too!"
Kathy sighed and admitted her roommate. This was a black-haired girl wearing hose and garter belt. The two sorority sisters stood gazing at the pair in the center of the room, dog-fucking on the rug. Kathy locked the door.
"Wow," the newcomer breathed, absently scratching her glossily black-fleeced crotch. "You three, huh!"
Kathy nodded. "He's already done it to both Mary and me."
"Wow. You bitches! Boy! When he's through with Tittyrella there, I want that superstudl"
Kathy smiled. "Why don't you give yourself a double treat, Patty darling ... put your mouth where his nice sweet cock has been!"
Hunching into Tugs, Cesar glanced over to see that Kathy was half in, half out of a bed, one leg dangling, while a naked female he did not recognize was busily lapping her pussy. He wondered when the brunette had come in. He eyed her cunt Nice legs, and the garter belt set off her cunt and ass nicely.
Cesar Perez was becoming a sophisticate.
Maybe, he mused, if I just hold back . . . think about other things . . . but pinch these big nipples, rub her clit maybe . . . maybe Jugs will come and fall of me . . . and 1 can have one more, on this same load....
Fortunately unaware of his thoughts but aware that he slowed down, Jugs began rocking back and forth, fucking the clenching clamp of her rapidly slithering cunt on the boy's hard male meat
The new girl, Patty, lapped and nibbled. She worked on a super-sensitive clitoris she knew very well, on and on until the lovely spreadeagled body of the former lesbian, former virgin, was arching continually to Sister Patty's mouth. Patty slurped.
And Mary, licking her lips until they glistened, looking from one couple to the other, spread her legs wide, seated directly before Jugs's head, and began sliding her fingers into herself. She looked at Cesar while she held her pussy open. He saw. He grinned. Watching, he fucked.
The room began to smell like a whorehouse on the morning after a convention.
Chapter Five
Miss (Call me Ms. damn it!) Victoria Amanda Chambliss stood barefoot on the soft gold rug that covered the floor of the Chapter Room Of Delta Iota Kappa Sorority. Her Legs, Long And Slim And Mar-Velously Golden Tanned, Were Well braced. The calves tensed visibly. Her well-defined, small ass with its deeply hollowed side cheeks was turned up at a sharp angle, for Victoria was bent all the way forward, from the waist, in that toe touching fold so beloved of gym instructors.
Except . . . the upper portion of her long body lay over the presiding desk. Her legs were perfectly straight, knees locked. Her face was turned sidewise, left cheek pillowed between her hands.
There were tears on Miss Snooty-Snotty's face, and she was whining and grunting ... in pleasure.
Every girl of DIK was watching, fascinated, astounded, delighted. All except virginal Alice Wheelwright, who still knelt under the desk and sucked on Doc Driessen's erect, dripping cock, and the girl who sat on Bill Martin's cock. She had gone glassy-eyed while he reached around and clamped her moon-shaped breasts with hands that were unusually soft and gentle. , Everyone else gazed at the stiffly bent Victoria Chambliss, including Bill and Doc.
And Dave Griffey. He stood behind Sister Victoria, naked but for his socks and biker's boots and his greasy, dirty jacket Between him and the backs of Victoria's braced, quivering legs, Anne Treece had crammed herself. With her head against Victoria's thigh, pressing into the sleek column, Anne was getting off by sucking the cock of such a rough type, this biker who was one of the two she'd seen fighting earlier. She'd had a fantasy even then, about their fighting over her, Anne Treece had.
Now, eyes closed and face dickstuffed, she was imagining herself as a biker's girl, Grifs chick, ordered to please her man with her mouth. She was working at that, a masochist in search of domination-who didn't even know it.
Behind Grif knelt Sheila Ann Browning. Her nose and tongue were plunged into the crack between his tight asscheeks. Sheila Browning liked that. She knew who and what she was, and wanted. She also thought that maybe if she pleased him he'd do to her what he was doing to Victoria.
What he was doing to the tall snippy girl was this:
Grif was fucking Victoria Chambliss with the presidential gavel of DIK.
The quaking tall bitch's humiliation made him grin with the sheer delight of domination.
And was she humiliated! The snooty-snotty slut was moaning and groaning and grunting like a damned sow, he thought happily. He watched her shoving her pussy back onto the gavel, which dripped and shone along the walnut length of its handle, with her pussy cum.
The major part of her humiliation was that she most obviously loved it!
Grif was so into what he was doing, dominating, probing, stick-fucking, degrading and humiliating one who had it coming, that he was hardly aware of the other two girls: one rimming him and one eating his meat. Now and then he did nevertheless remember to hunch forward into the redhead's stuffed face, half-strangling her . . . and to shove his ass back so that its taut-muscled little cheeks splayed over the invisible ass-licker's face.
Sheila slurped. Anne slurped. The gavel slurped, in and out.
Grif pulled the length of walnut handle all the way out of Victoria's drooling, dilated cunt. The shaped, smooth wood was glistening wet and dripping, all along its length, all nine slim inches. He'd got them all up her, every inch, in her snooty-snotty vaj, until the gavel's hammerhead was wedged into her pussylips, mashing them a little and her moans were of both pain and pleasure-while she stood on tiptoes in an involuntary attempt to escape the internal pressure-right on her cervix.
The gavel oozed a long driplet of thick sap to the gold rug.
Now, while he was licked and sucked, Grif held that gavel right where he wanted it, carefully, all wet and shiny and dripping. He waited, but not for long.
With a whimpering, high-voiced little cry of need, Victoria pushed herself backward. Then her cry was a lot louder. Grif grabbed her ass with one hand while he held the gavel's head steady with the other. Several spectating girls gasped.
Victoria had run her asshole a full two inches back on the gavel's handle.
Grif was now fucking well certain that she was going to keep those five centimeters in her-and take six or seven more, right up the ass. Virginal ass? Un-probed anus? Never-touched rectum? So what Grif was no pussycat, and neither was she.
Damn her hoity-toity ass, he thought, and probed it.
His arms quivered with the strain. She fought. His eyes swung their gaze. He caught the pretty blue eyes of a girl who looked really, really pleased about Victoria's degradation.
"Get over here and hold her down," he snapped.
The girl blinked, then jumped to obey. Her naked breasts bobbed prettily as she hurried to the presidential desk across which Victoria lay. Victoria was trying to straighten up, to ease herself off the rearward impalement.
The blue-eyed girl held the tall one down, on the desktop.
Grif skewered another few centimeters of hard, slim walnut handle into her dilated asshole. Smooth inner tissues writhed aside. They were accustomed to the emergence of items whose diameter was larger than that of the gavel. This item was coming the other way though, and it was hardly comfortable.
With her head, Victoria butted at the crotch of the girl who held her. Grif swatted Victoria's upturned buttock, hard. The two cheeks jumped defensively together, to the tune of Victoria's instant squeal. That tightening only made her tighter inwardly, too-around the gavel. The horrid thing already felt much, much thicker than its one-inch diameter.
"Go to it, Grif baby," called the well-brought-up young daughter of the president of the Citizens' First Bank & Trust Company. "Fuck 'er fuckin' snooty-snotty ass with the old gavel, man! Take it Vic, take it Vic baby, take it Vic-right up the ass!"
Even Grif was surprised and a bit shaken by the vicious chant that rose all about him now: "Take it Vic, take it Vic, take it up the ASS! Take it Vic, take it, Vic-"
His mild concern, however, did not deter Grif from what he was doing. He gave it to Vic, gave it to Vic, gave it to Vic up the ASS!
And he moved his hips slowly back and forth, getting his own asshole tongue-fucked while his face-fucked a delighted Anne Treece.
Across the room, against the far wall, three virginal young girls had waited and watched while Mickey White, afflicted with an attack of the gentles upon learning that his chosen lover was a virgin, had spent ten minutes licking and stroking and finger-fondling her closed little brown-fleeced cunt, and another two minutes just entering her: Now she had come twice, and he was still happily easing in and out of her, and three hopefuls stood impatiently waiting equal time and treatment....
Bill Martin merely sat back, leaning against a wall, with his arms around two girls and his cock up the third, who sat facing away from him. He sucked a large rosy-pink nipple on his left and fondled the smaller, tighter one on his right. And the girl before him rose up and down, up and down, up and down, gliding the charming retreat of her passionate pussy up and down the big vein-marked, intensely male column of peter standing up from his long hairy balls.
Doc Driessen was watching Grif, and marveling.
He marveled at the bikers plain damned callous meanness, at the apparent hatred of the girls of Delt I for the tall, willowy and blond Miss Chambliss. He marveled also at the way she was taking it. She had now obviously begun to dig her ass-rape with the gavel, just as she had so obviously enjoyed being cuntally probed with it.
Driessen was marveling, too, at the stick-to-it-ivity of the tall young woman between his legs. His hand idly stroked her soft hair. Not at all idly, she lovingly sucked and slurped and let her tongue linger and crawl sweetly over each vein and the great big one running along under his hard cock, while the siphoning girl's hands eased tenderly over his balls, which were so distended that they felt ready to burst.
She had found a haven. She loved sucking cock. He was a nice, sweet old gent to let her just mouth all over his intimate sexual flesh this way, to let her hide from all the others because she was embarrassed but at the same time so uncomfortably filled with sexual desire. She nursed happily.
He was so nice. This was so nice. It was so nice to suck and fondle and nurse. It felt so nice in her mouth. She was proud, too. She had made it big, all by herself. Just she and her mouth had turned that cute wrinkly little worm into this great big sexy vein-laced thing!
Within her eagerly clasping, slavish mouth her tongue lapped avidly, constantly bathing the head of his tingling bone with her saliva.
She jerked a little as, just above her, Victoria's voice burst forth loudly. Miss Snooty-Snotty, ass-fucked with a gavel, was coming.
Henrietta Nettles, aged twenty, five feet ten inches tall and one hundred fifty-two pounds, stood naked with her hands clasped behind her back like a little girl and her eyes fixed penitently on the floor. Before her, in her own room to which she had brought him, stood Fred Foster, five ten, one hundred thirty-nine pounds. He was not naked. He wore a pair of her filmy panties, beige, and they fitted. Outside, she had decked him, but she had not made him put on her briefs. He had taken them away from her and donned them himself, covering up his cock, withdrawing it from her because he said-after he'd decked her, and slapped her face once and her large ass several times-she was too damned rough with it
The college president's big daughter stood before the divorced assistant manager of the supermarket, in the pose of a humble little girl.
"Now, Hank, do you still want this cock?"
Miss Nettles nodded mutely.
His hand went out to catch one of her breasts and thumb its nipple. She shivered. "Still want me to play with these things?"
The captain of the Girls' Hockey Team nodded.
(She had said Women's Hockey Team. Mister Foster had advised her that was nonsense, she was a long way from being a woman and no group of women would elect her captain of anything. The captivated Miss Nettles, treated like a woman or a girl rather than a big object for the first time in years and years, had acquiesced. It was the Girls Hockey Team, then!)
"Then kneel down, little girl, kneel down, Hank, and lick. Lick me through your panties. Do a good job, and well see about you getting to take 'em off and get at the real unadorned banana!"
The big girl knelt down, tits jumping, and began to lick the dark lump inside her own nylon panties, stretched about the hips and over the big sexual package of this foremost among men. Standing over her, Fred regarded his wristwatch and did not move, thinking about last week's sales figures at FastShop, about what a bitch of a hung-up Southern Baptist keep away nut his wife Angie had been- about every damned thing he could call to mind except the large loving young woman so submissively kneeling before him and licking him so sexily, licking his cock through a paper-thin layer of tight sexy nylon.
When she was moaning and clutching at his ass and hips, though still sweetly and softly licking the sodden panties, when his watch told him a full ten minutes of such activity had elapsed, he bade her start to ease the pants down. "I said ease!"
And soon, for the first time since she'd been thirteen and the preacher's son had got her to do it, she was licking raw, red, twitching, throbbing cock. (Within a year she had been three inches taller than the preacher's son, and outweighed him by thirteen pounds. She had been willing to lick his cock, or others. No one had ever asked her again. She'd begun to act the part of the big dominating man-hater. She'd also cried herself to sleep a lot.)
Now, very happily, loving what she was doing, the captivated girl licked eagerly over the straining length of the rigid staff that rammed hugely out between his thighs.
She heard him groan. She smiled, and licked. Raw lust was making him shiver. She wasn't going to be Miss Unwanted much longer. She wouldn't have to be a virgin much longer!
With her face pressed into the bare, sweaty flesh of his crotch, the truly sex-oriented young woman continued to whip his silky prick with a tongue like a wet velvet lash.
Drop after pearly droplet appeared at the very tip of the distended nut of his cock, and she deftly licked away each one, smacking her lips just a little to be sure that he knew she loved it.
The vicissitudes of fate! The inequities wrought or at least tolerated by a cruel never-married god borrowed from a lonely desert people He had bade Take No Prisoners, again and again, while his more berserk servant Joshua murdered his way across the land called holy; The cruelties of life and human thought . . .
Jugs hated her huge breasts and wished they were smaller. Mary-and many others-disliked their own breasts and wished they were larger. Cesar wished he were older and Doc Driessen wished he were younger. Victoria Chambliss secredy wished she were not so tall, while other girls envied her her slim, regal willowy height. SaraSue Randolph was not fond of her large, chubby ass and Anne Treece wished hers was not so tiny and boyish. Rebecca Rothschild disliked the superbly rounded calf-development of her legs, because her older brother had once told her they looked like a halfback's legs. And tall Helena Eriksson thought those legs were just beautiful, and wished hers had a bit of shape to them.
While . . . Henrietta Nettles mooned for males, and hated her height and size, and eventually took refuge in being the girl some called "butch" secretly, behind her back-although she was not among the several of her sorority sisters who played lesbian games right here in the house. And Fred Foster had despaired ever of finding a woman who reminded him of his mother, a big woman of Nordic descent, kinswomen of the warrior-women Valkyries with their mental breastplates, or one who loved doing things his way, with a not-cruel male firmness and control, or one who loved cock, cock, not what it did but what it was, cock for cock's sake-and would happily go down on him, and love it... and him....
"Do you love that cock, Hank?"
She slurped her tongue over his standing hard-on. "Yes," she murmured, and opened very wide, and pushed her face down his dick.
Parted, pinkly unpainted lips hollowed ovally to nurse on his stiffened prick. It stood forth from the jungle of hair at his groin to vanish into her sweet little girl-face, a face that very few had ever seen as sweet.
He trembled at the way she lashed at his dick with her facile tongue.
He could feel the jutting hills of her breasts pressing warmly, smoothly against his legs. He loved them nestled warmly, quivering there. Too, there was the hair-rilfling warmth of her breath, huffing gently into the fleece of his groin. It was delight, powerful ego-boost to a man who needed it, to look down at his cock drilling into her face-a broad face, actually, with a strong chin-piping into her head, tingling with sensual bliss while she sucked broadly and ardently.
"Suck, Hank. Suck, little girl."
As if that were necessary! Oh, but was she sucking!
The lovely big girl was sucking and slurping like mad, cocksucking, moving her head so that furry balls of heat slapped her chin.
Running her nibbling mouth up and down the lust-tormented tube of masculinity, she would lift her face completely to let her tongue loll over the inflamed hole at its tip. Anything to please him. How pale her face looked, in contrast with the blood-surging dark pink of his cock!
Fluid, clear and thin and slightly sticky, continued to exude and gather at the very tip of his organ. She slurped it up, gulped it down, sought more. Her hands wandered up and down his nicely hairy legs. Her shining-tressed head moved steadily in lip-loving dedication to the excited big cunt-sticker that slid in and out, to and fro in her cocksucking face.
The tight skin of her face was stretched tautly over her cheekbones by the wide, wide distention of her mouth and jaws. It was no darling little boy-pecker she took in, but a damned goodly and good-sized mancock, a twitching jerking log of flesh designed to open up cunts and stuff em full, a truly thick and swollen mass of real man-meat, fat stiff throbbing bobbing cock that stretched and filled her lips and her mouth beyond anything they had ever taken in.
After all, her cocksucking experience was ... beginning.
With her movements, the incredibly firm flesh of her surging tits shook and shimmied, bobbing sweetly against his legs. He felt her breasts; she did not feel the tremble her oral action was imparting to those planted male legs.
As her slightly curly locks flashed in the light, her head moved rhythmically, noisy-slurpily up and down the bursting masculine vitality of his swollen dick. It was shiny with her saliva. It was wet from glans to pubic hair. Saliva oozed down through the curling hair and onto his balls, hairy-silky globes for the storing of male milk. They transferred it back to her, smearing her chin with her own saliva as they swung with the impetus of her head-bobbing movements.
The moist, warm caress of her mouth was staggering.
He loved the way she sucked his horny cock.
The marvelous cocksucking big wench is putting me right into orbit, he mused, although his lust-enflamed brain was barely capable of any thinking at all.
He stared glazedly down at the large athletic woman sucking his cock. At the pink ring of shining oral flesh that stroked his meat with such passionate attention and verve. He watched her, the college president's big daughter lip-loving, face-housing, tongue-slicking his prick. What she was doing to him with her magnificent lingual efforts was tumultuously exciting and the sensual pitch in him was building almost unbearably.
The thought had never hit him before, but . . . he felt he knew then something of what it was to be a girl, a woman. A woman, that is, who loved sex. A woman who loved cock. A hole waiting to be filled. His desire to come, to blow off his tight-packed nuts, was like that: a great gaping physical hole that needed to be filled, that demanded to be filled.
A web of sensuality enclosed him, standing over the heroically proportioned daughter of the college president while she blew him.
He was going glassy-eyed with the pressure of her powerful, hard-working lips. Silken woman-locks lashed his thighs with the bobbing jerking plunging of her head. She never asked how she was doing. She just kept on trying harder. Muscles rippled beautifully in her gorgeous face.
Gorgeous, he mused. Funny it hadn't looked that way before. Yes-particularly when it's wrapped around my dong like this-her face is gorgeous!
He wondered at her reaction if he said it aloud.
Hell, who gives a damn about her reaction? This dam' bitch knocked me on my ass, and right in front of that snotty sneering biker!
What the hell. "You're beautiful . . . with your face wrapped around my cock," he told her softly, from the throat. And damned if there wasn't a bit of quiver in his voice.
He saw her shiver, her slight flush, and he saw her lazy smile. He was glad he'd said it. She sucked cock. The kneeling girl sucked cock. She sucked cock. The president's daughter sucked his cock. With pleasure and hungry greedy, anxious-to-please devotion, she sucked cock. Within the excruciating warm prison of her head, the slavishly kneeling girl sucked cock. Gentry, nibbling, fondling his legs, his balls, she sucked cock.
She was working for his spouting orgasm now, sucking cock ever more energetically in and out of the splayed shining slot of her previously un-breached lips.
The cocksucking Wagnerian darling was visibly, manifestly thirsty for the sweet, thick honey crowding his balls, and she let him know it with her slaving, slavering mouth.
"You want to suck it off and drink it down, Hank, or you want to get fucked?"
A tremor ran through her and her tits jiggled just beautifully. Slowly, while she considered, she drew her mouth back and back. More and more saliva-greased erection slid into view. It shone in the room's-rather bright, in truth-light. When she let the huge head escape her lips at last, she clung to it with one hand, holding it down when its stiffness wanted to snap it straight up. When she spoke, he felt her lower lip moving against the sensitive under-surface of his long-sucked prick.
"I-whatever you want," she said.
"You'll drink it down? Hot cum right in your mouth?"
"If-if you want." Her eyes gazed submissively up at him. Nervously, she licked her hps. "I-I would love to be fucked____"
He quoted her something he'd read two days ago, and read again, and liked well enough to remember:
"Wrapped in the arms and legs of a woman hysterical with ecstasy, He pumped her with verve and violence and intensity."
It almost rhymed. What the hell. I'd love to shoot off in your mouth," he said. "I like you on your knees in front of me. I like my cock in your mouth. You're good at it, you know that?"
"Ill do it," she said, ducking her head. Her hand moved on his thick shank. "I . . . like ... I like your cock."
"I know you do. You treat it really good, too." He corrected himself: "Well."
She put out her tongue and licked the tip, where another pearl of man-juice had formed and was ready to be wasted on the floor.
"So I've had your mouth," he said, working to be callous, having to work at it, because he really liked this big gal, wanted her, loved what she did to his meat, wished she were his and not just some chick who'd belted him and turned out to be the world's greatest cocksucker.
He went on, "I want my cock up inside you now. Way up in your vagina, your cunt, your pussy. You can think while you're feeling it, way up in there. You can think about how your spit's all over my cock and I'm wiping it off up your pussy."
A great tremble ran visibly through her queen-sized body.
He held a hand down. Henrietta took it and rose-gracefully, he noted. Sure she was an athlete, not a humbler. He kept pulling until she was against him, all of her. The pressure of her body pressed his prick back against him. It was a hot bar that stood up against his stomach.
She looked into his face. Her eyes were . . . waiting. Her lips were visibly wet, parted.
He pulled her close to crush their mouths together in a rapacious kiss. His hand glided possessively over the nakedness of her, the lush femininity of her. There was a lot of it. Meanwhile he wiggled his tongue between her soft lips and lewdly teased her inner mouth with its sinuous tip.
She shuddered. She held him, closed her eyes for a moment-and then began sucking strongly at his tongue. Against his chest, her breasts were cushioning bulges of warmth and sensuous firmness. The muscles beneath them were firm, and well-toned, and her breasts stood right up firmly.
After a time he drew back, having to disengage his tongue. It was a little sore at the roots: She had sucked hard, with need.
"Get down on your knees again," he said. "On your hands and knees, girl-I want to fuck you that way."
Chapter Six
Another great tremor flitted visibly through Henrietta Nettles's queen-sized body.
She looked at Fred Foster, blinking. Her face was almost expressionless.
He took his hands from her and looked at her, waiting. He had told her to kneel, for her fucking. She wanted it. Stepping back, she kept her eyes on his as she went to her knees. And then down onto her hands and knees. He walked past her, behind her.
God, what an assl
In her position of offering readiness, he could gaze with pleasure on the swelling ovals of her butt and the division of those burgeoning cheeks. Her legs were parted. He could also see and enjoy the vista:
the lightly furred pouch of her slitted sex seemed to push backward, to yearn lewdly back between the big solid columns of her thigh-tops, under her large parted asscheeks, as if in a beckoning invitation.
He moved in, squatted, put his hands on the outer curves of her asscheeks. She trembled. He tucked in his butt and hunched forward, then used one hand to guide his cock.
The fat, deeply pink knob of his cockhead prodded at tight-looking, pulpy, muscular bulges, the delicately pink lips of her pussy. They split slowly, and slowly his prick's crown eased between them. Slowly her slitted cunt was spread, opened, turned into an oval purse. He saw another great shudder go through her, all through her animal-kneeling body.
"Uh," she said, "uh.. ."
"Christ," he grunted. "You . . . are .. . tight!"
He kept at it, pushing. She felt it, every slowly incoming inch of his cock. Her labia and inner cunt clasped tightly around the big rocky hard-on, and it hurt a little, splitting her open. She sighed with pleasure, just the same. She could feel herself expanding, her innards stretching around the dilated and impatient cock. A man's cock-and a big one, too!
This his hairy pouch was jammed firmly against the flaring oval glory of her squirming bottom. He grunted. Rapture seized his genitals, seared through his scrotum.
His legs were beginning to quiver. But he re-
mained squatting, motionless, with his eyes closed and his hands on the girl's upturned butt, while he savored his cock's imprisonment in a well-bedewed, viciously tight, and stifling hot envelope of flesh. Cunt pressed snugly all around his thick shaft Snugly.
He was very glad he'd already come once, and not long ago. Otherwise the extreme hot tightness of her pussy would drag his semen out of him in about a minute, and one thing he'd never had any trouble with was premature ejaculation.
"Feel me in you, little girl?"
"Ohhh... yessss."
He worked his hips a little. "Does it feel good, little girl?" "Oh, yesss!"
"You want to fuck, Hank?" "I want to be fucked!"
"Like this? From behind? Kneeling like a dog on all fours, a bitch in heat, a god damned animal?"
He saw the tremor flicker through her.
"This is the... way you want me?"
"For now it's the way I want you."
"Then fuck me like this, like a bitch in heat, a god damned animal on all fours!"
Shivering with torrid tension and tremors, she ground herself back against him until she felt the male body behind hers stiffen and shudder against her enticingly upturned naked ass.
The lewdly lurching girl smiled. Gratefully, lasciv-
iously, her long pink-lined slit accepted its deep piercing and dilating and plowing.
He rocked back, pushing against her flanks. Then he lunged in, back into the hot cavern of passion, where he was sheathed in molten woman, a woman who squirmed in sensitive sensuous delight. Tight walls like elastic bands, brand new and full of strength and tension, tried to clamp him. His cock easily broke the stranglehold and then plunged back in again. He drilled deep into her supple, perfectly proportioned big womanly body.
He gave her a fast dozen. Clutching her tightly, he drubbed her quiver-shot buttocks as he moved, hard and fast. Cock plunged in and out, squishily. His eager horn boomed in deeply, burrowing vigorously into thick folds that dripped pungent pussy sap all over its broad length.
With a knot of lust hard and tight in his guts, he rooted deeply in her.
She moaned and made whimpery animal noises, kneeling there before him like an animal, mounted from behind. With an increased intensity of lust and desire to make her feel it, really feel it, he banged her butt and stroked in hard and deep.
The kneeling young woman pressed strongly back against him, bracing herself with both hands on the floor, ignoring the scrubbing of her bare knees while she sought to cunt-swallow his cock. She'd become a bundle of blind animal impulses and responses.
Dangling long and fat, her tits swung and jiggled wildly. They felt heavy. She liked that. She liked every bit of it. She closed her eyes and imagined herself being used, used, like a woman, a real woman, desirable and sexy. Hard flesh-balls drummed her ass's lower curves with his rapid and ceaseless shuttling along her cuntal passageway.
The very air was disturbed by carnal frenzy and passions.
The sensation of his strong cock plunging and plundering in her slushy, rearwardly presented marsh was exquisite. Gathering momentum, strain ing his legs to tremorous ache, he drove it in, a penetrating awl that drove and pierced.
She rubbed herself back against him like a big sleek purring cat, tail open and vagina more than ready for the driving cock, for every inch of impalement he cared to give it. With her hands firmly planted on unyielding floor, she rocked herself back and forth to stab every wall of her yawning, melting pussy.
Wild excitement triggered her cunt and thick liquid flowed.
Tendons stood out against the sweaty skin as she pressed back against him, straining. The obscenely writhing enthusiast slammed herself back against him, pushing hard and making cooing sounds. Beneath her, her burning tits swung and jumped and slapped each other audibly and almost painfully.
The hard impacts of his charging body made her naked ass jiggle.
Her face was slack, blank. Her lips were parted. Her eyes stared at the floor. Her eyes saw nothing. The passion-dominated man belly-whipped her ass. She loved it.
Hot fluid welled and bubbled, flowed out of her enfolding vaginal tunnel. It took him more easily, but it didn't loosen up in the slightest. Its lips clamped slavishly to the hot poker that dilated them, hurled them apart, and abraded their softness so wonderfully.
Wearily, his calves leaping in strain, he sank to his knees. And kept pumping the kneeling girl from behind.
Surging male hips drove him into her so hard she was rocked, and loud slapping sounds rose from her jutting asscheeks. Her entire body felt aflame. It was a good heat, a good pain. And god oh god, she was getting even more of him!
He was sinking ever deeper into her cuntal opening from behind, as if calling upon more and more powers of tumescence, the miracle of masculinity, to lengthen his cock and elongate her, broaden her sweet little slit, so little used.
Tear my pussy open, she demanded furiously in her mind, her whirling chaotic mind, and she was shocked at her own desire-and lewdness. And he seemed to be trying to tear it open at that, to fuck her absolutely brainless. In a lewd series of clever carnal movements he swung his hips, banging his dick around inside her and really challenging those tight, tight vaginal walls.
Then he resumed clinging to her hips and driving up her middle like a thrumming, throbbing dynamo inside her hungry wet canal. Like fat fruits so ripe they were ready to drop off the vine, her tits swung beneath her while he skewered into the sighing, grunting girl with powerful, body-jarring thrusts.
Back and forth his hips swung like a great pendulum, driving his cock, plunging it to her juicily and excitingly.
"Yes," she grunted. "Oh yes!" she cooed. "Yes! Oh yes, yes, like that! Um-m-m-mmm! YES!"
"You like fucking, little girl? Like getting it from behind like this?"
"Love it! Yes! I love it! Love fucking-love you fucking me. Fuck me some more. Fuck me forever!"
Squealing with passion as the swift hard strokes of the kneeling man's marvelous sex rod cut into her expanded cunt, the kneeling girl was rocked by one acute spasm after another. Her gut exploded and it hurt and it was wonderful. Her cunt was blossoming, flaring, foaming, and she had to concentrate and bear down to keep it tight around him for the friction they both wanted and needed. Swept by a new wave of all-conquering, irresistible sensuality, she rammed strongly back to crush the dimpled hemispheres of her palpitant ass against his lurching crotch.
"You're squashing your own asscheeks, baby!"
And to think she'd always hated the word "baby" applied to a woman! Why-she loved it! It sounded great, great Baby. Baby! That was Henrietta, Hank, little girl... baby!
"Squash them! CRUSH them! Do it to me! I don't care-do what you want, oh do what you want darling-arid fuck me, fuck MEEEE!"
Her wonderful, excitedly squealed and exciting words were more beautiful to his ears and brain than the loveliest music. Swift as thought, he whipped his dripping penis out of her, seeing the streak of her own exudate flick shinily across her bare butt even as he shoved her.
With a moan and a cry, she flopped onto her side. She was whimpering, ready to weep and beg and apologize-she thought she'd said something wrong. Just the opposite! He wanted to lie on her, fuck with her, squeeze her and be squeezed, look into her face. As she hit her side-ass-jiggling, tit-flopping-he was hurrying on his knees after her, turning her over onto her back, thrusting aside one big beautifully muscled leg and falling in between it and its twin.
"AAAAHHHHHHHHH!" she cried, as he re-entered her, and he was all the way inside and nudging her uterus before the sound of her voice had died in the room.
He resumed moving like a tiger. His lean hips pushed harder and harder, seemingly seeking to relocate her cervix. His breath came faster. It hissed. He lurched and surged in body-jostling strokes, hammering cock deep into the voluptuously large girls hot and raw pussy. Powerful male pounding made her body jump and twitch with the force of his virile fucking.
The twitching, hardly used vent between her splendidly curvaceous and muscular thighs swallowed his powering cock again and again. Her eyes dilated and her breath came in short, quick gasps with high-voiced sighs in them.
Sleekly long, athlete's legs strove to grasp him in naked entwinement. The muscles of her firmly ripe buttocks rippled and clamped voluptuously into compact balls, seeking to propel her in upward surges to meet his flailing form.
She moaned and gasped and clutched at him, loving the big prick plunging and lunging in her body. She began arching her body, bowing her back to skewer herself up the guts with surging thickness. Caught up so tightly in the warm embrace of her slender cunt, it felt huge; as if she were riding a telephone pole.
That branded her brain, and Henrietta knew that hereafter she'd look with fond remembrance on every telephone pole she saw....
Enormously aroused, half-crazy about her, he rode the big girl's warm, sweat-damp curves and she rippled with joyous little spasms while he implanted that big beefy tool in her, to the hilt.
She rubbed it lovingly with her inner cunt, massaged every inch of his cock all the way back to the hairs, with in and out, up and down motions of her elegantly, generously contoured body. Her cock-choked vagina seeped forth more and more of its clear syrup, until he was splashing in it, fucking her squishily and noisily.
"Oh," she groaned, almost sobbing in happiness, "oh, oh-h, ohh-"
Each of the humping man's fluid, powerful movements was bouncing her luscious form around with him fully ensconced in its passion-hot inner flesh. He boomed into her cunt, thrusting wetly in and out of her, and her insides exploded.
Her scream jarred him back to reality from the sex-pink miasmic world of pure sensuality he wallowed in. Then he realized that it was a cry of highest joy, that she was coming under him, all around him. He grinned, and poled into that climaxing, contracting vaginal clutch.
Stifled little screams leaped up from her mouth, which was open despite her efforts to close it and suppress her noises. The girl's legs were flailing about on either side of his sprawled and humping body, bicycling in the air, punching down at his tightened ass, trying to hoist her crotch higher and higher.
Into her dilated split he bored sensuously, splashing in the wetness of satiny inner flesh that engulfed his swollen cock, trapped it within her, tried to absorb it wetly.
"Jesus-Christ," he groaned, "you're so-tight!"
Furious slapping sounds accompanied every flog-
ging pump of cock into cunt. Beneath her, her buttocks bunched, churning to push her cunt up. Tender lips clasped shuttling male organ. Her entire cuntal complex sucked voraciously at the gigantic nipple of his crotch. Her hips undulated, cradling his lunging lower body. She squirmed and writhed in highest happiness.
Powerful erotic charges jolted through him at feel and thought of the soft fleshy lips of her cunt gulp-ing, gliding eagerly up and down the trunk of his strongly plunging dick. His body mashed dowm fiercely on hers. Cock drove fiercely into cunt. Cock drilled into her. Hot, spongily puffy pussy mound flattened under the huffing man's jarring pummeling.
Their curves and hollows fitted together, ground together.
Lord, he thought, what joy there was between these big voluptuous thighs!
Lord, what a "smooth, wet, hot, tight pussv! The thing was a dong-grabber-a dong squeezer! His rampant dick was stretching that tight little channel, going wild in its clutch! His balls were burning. The blood was a fire in his veins. His cock felt swollen to ball-bat size. His heart pounded an urgent, painful tempo and the hair at his temples was saturated with perspiration.
Oh but there was going to be more berserk releases of this carnal tension!
He sought it with sharp pumping jerks of his hips. Each sent his burning tool slicing between juddering thighs and ripping far back into her meaty young vulva. She took the furiously pumping man's rutting into her with a blissful expression of complete surrender on her face. Balling deep and hard, he watched the supine girl's little pink tongue slip out to skim lightly over her lips.
Hot, juicy feminine crevice swallowed his cock and he felt the rising of his milky load in his swinging nuts. The eagerly receptive girl under him grunted and twitched, nailed to the floor by cock, spreading and expanding in her little-used parts while he sawed into that cavern of sweet pink pudding.
"Oh. Oh. Oh Jesus. Oh Jesus Christ," she moaned. She was panting and squirming voluptuously. Her pussy was going into weird gasping convulsions. Her eyes remained fast shut, but he could see their movements against her pale blue eyelids.
"So you've got a hankering for pussy-punishing, huh?" he gasped out through his panting. "Well-I've got the punisher-take it, whore! Take it, slut! Take it deep, big gal! Take-it-hard!
A smile curved her lips. He was thrilled with the realization that she liked that sort of talk, this sort of hard-fast balling. And he grinned, and gave it to her good.
Huffing, puffing, he drilled into the lustfully squirming athlete's glistening pink meat. His crotch banged and bounced off the swollen bulge of her cunt. Harsh groans of absolute scarlet lust tore from his mouth.
It was his plan to blow his balls over her, ah* over her. He'd pull it out just before he started unloading, and spray her body with his semen. He'd enioy that, enioy seeing it on her. It was a great thought, an exciting concept. He had the feeling he could do anything he wanted with this girl not-quite-a-woman.
It came too fast, though, and surely the hardest act for a man to make is to withdraw just as he starts to spurt. With a groan and a shudder, he began to come, ramietting sperm into her juicv crease to make it juicier, pumping squirt after squirt of hot come up her pussy.
He held her for a long while. Now and again a twitch jerked through him, and his ass jumped and still-big-but-no-longer-hard cock jumped inside her. The orgasm seemed to go on and on. Oh, he'd long since emptied himself of come. It was just that this time there was a big fat psychological orgasm too, and it went on and on.
He realized it was the best orgasm he'd ever had.
As a matter of fact, this was the best fuck he'd ever had, this big twenty-year-old (former) snotbox of an athletic girl.
As a matter of fact...
"I think I love you," he told her.
She gripped him to her, fiercely. "Oh I love you!"
"Not so fuckin' hard, bitch," he said right through his glow. "I don't need to be squashed to death!"
Got to remember to be forceful; she digs it! Whatever she digs! "Oh-I'm sorry."
They lay on the floor and held each other, and kissed ears and noses and eyes and hair and lips.
That was it for Henrietta now-Hank Nettles and Fred now-Fred-the-Tiger Foster, as far as Doc Driessen's experiment was concerned. Blown away. Love had reared its pretty pink heart-shaped head. Love at first fuck? Sure, when the two are made for each other; never mind that one's the daughter of the president of a college and the other's a divorced supermarket assistant manager.
Henrietta Nettles moved out of the sorority house next day. She moved directly to Fred Foster's apartment, and into it. As people name estates, they named the apartment. They called it Heaven. Professor-Doctor-President J. Jasper Nettles got over it, after a while. What the hell, his daughter had never been so radiantly happy.
Chapter Seven
It was a strange coincidence, just happenstance, that left Bill Martin's wife Winifred alone in the house that night her husband was engaged in ... scientific experimentation.
It was a coincidence that it was the same night the phantom titty-nut chose to go out for a little window-peeping. He'd been trying to break the habit. Over a month had passed since the last time he'd gone out peeping. More coincidence led him to Maple Street; he usually stuck to Stonewall Drive and Wollheim Street. That long arm of coincidence led him right to Bill Martin's back yard. And right up the big elm tree, because he saw light and interesting shadow-movements in the upstairs window.
Then he was up, and could see in that window, and his eyes popped.
Winifred Hanrahan's tits were a goodly part of the reason Bill Martin took her out, again and again, and married her. They really should have learned a little more about each other. At thirteen, Winifred Hanrahan had been top-heavy. At twenty, she still was. At twenty-three, fifteen years ago when she became Winifred Martin, she was still top-heavy. At five feet, five inches, she had measured 39D-23-36. To guys, that was Something Else. Not to her. To Win Hanrahan Martin it was a drag. She was resigned to having to fight to find clothes that fitted properly. She had had to resign herself to serviceable bras, in black or white. No lacy confections or skimpy little bandeau-bras in sexy sky-blue or peach or coral pink or ecru for her. "One size fits all" was bullshit to Winifred Martin; she spilled out of that kind of bra. Too, clothing manufacturers believed that any woman with tits the size of hers also had a lot of gut and a butt and hips to match.
Being really titsy was a drag for Win; it is for any woman.
It wasn't for Bill Martin. He was crazy about those big white jiggly titties.
Trouble was, over the years Win sort of took charge. Part of her means of giving Bill a hard way to go, of "keeping him in his place," was withholding her beloved tits.
It never occurred to her to tell him he just didn't treat them, or her, right. He treated her great jiggling jugs with awe, and gently. He ceded control of this, and then that to her, and then item after item, until because he was "not competent enough to go out of the house looking decent" she even decided what he'd wear each day. And if he got out of line-by her definition, of course-she withheld her tits.
She'd wear loose stuff that didn't show them off and indeed minimized them. She'd wear high-necked stuff so he couldn't see the cleavage he loved, the Grand Canyon cleavage between the Grand Tetons-an un-American phrase meaning simply "big tits." Sure, she withheld other stuff too, like pussy. Trouble was it was torture for Bill to make love with her without messing with her gigantic titties. Another trouble was that Win liked sex, lovemaking, and plain old balling. She could forbid Dummy to touch or even lick or suck her titties, but not getting herself dicked was like cutting off her nose to spite her face -or her nipples to spite her breasts. As it were.
Theirs was not a well marriage, not a healthy one. It was, though, all too normal In America, where women are women and men are . . . slipping. Being slipped.
Win was alone tonight, and Bill was doing his clicking elsewhere though she didn't know it, and her period was coming up, which meant that she was horny. So she was upstairs in the bedroom at nine p.m. squeezing and sucking and yes, biting her own mighty mammaries, while she gave it to herself up her scarlet-furred snatch with a carrot whose color wasn't too far different from that of the hair all around that juicy drooling thirty-eight-year-old pleasure slit.
And that's what the phantom titty-nut saw from the big old elm tree outside.
Eyes bugging, he took himself firmly in hand, and hand jobbed himself, and he came a lot sooner than Win Martin. His goggling eyes remained fixed on her. They were glassy. (By now her measurements had undergone some changes-she was 41DD-28-38. Pure incredible sex, unless you don't happen to like women who look more like women than most men. You like women who look more like boys? Hmmm.)
The nut outside her window loved the way she looked. He was gaga over the way she looked. He happened to be a breast-man. A titty-nut. Just a peeper, you understand, not a breaker-in or a molester .. . but he was about to become one. He was about to become the Phantom Titty-Nut.
Jeezis Crise, that marvelous, magnificent, munificently mammaried broad was actually sucking her own titty! Xaviera had said a woman could do that, some women, if they were a bit active-and well hung. This one was. He couldn't stand it. He started to see everything through a mist of dancing little red dots. He descended the elm tree in Bill and Win Martin's back yard. Heart pounding, he went right up to the back door.
Pure coincidence. Win had goofed. Bill Martin was a Good Husband, and he always saw to things such as locking the back door. He locked it every night. Tonight he wasn't here. Win had forgotten. She had goofed. The phantom titty-nut pushed the back door open and walked right in.
The Martins didn't have a burglar alarm. The dog was at the vet's. The Martins didn't even have a cat, or a parrot that could yell "Rrrawk! Prowler! Call the cops!"
The phantom titty-nut went right in, and through the kitchen. On the way he picked up the stick around which Win Martin wrapped string. It was a sort of secret vice with her. She saved string. Lots of people do. You never know when you might need some string. Of course, you never know either when some phantom titty-nut might come along and tie up you and your titties with your own saved string.
One more coincidence. (Coincidences really won't make it in fiction. This, of course, really happened. Coincidences happen more often in real life than in fiction. That's why someone, probably Benjamin Franklin, came up with the phrase "Truth is stranger than fiction.")
Unable to get off, really wild and of course sure she was all alone in the house, Win was trying something new. She'd smeared lotion all over her carrot and her ass crease, and she'd laid a pair of brand-new jeans across the big double bed she shared with
Bill. The fabric of brand-new jeans is rougher. She wanted to feel that rough fabric against her nipples.
So, coincidentally, this is what the phantom titty-nut saw when he eased open that bedroom door:
Win Martin lay on her stomach, face up, legs kicking. She was grinding her massive milkwagon into that rough denim and she was poking that greased carrot into her (virginal) anus with both hands. Her asscheeks were snowy-white and trembling. She lay face-down, her face turned the other way, and she had both hands behind her.
And the phantom titty-nut had a ball of string in his hands, neatly wound so it would neatly unwind. And he was beside himself, out of his head, excited-meaning he hardly knew what the hell it was that he was doing.
In about two shakes he had pulled one of Win Martin's stockings down over his own head-just as he'd learned from movies and Newsweek and Time, crime professors, all three-and in about four shakes more, Mrs. Winifred Martin had both hands tied behind her back. A hand turned her over. Coming down from her sex-high, she'd actually thought maybe it was Bill, playing some sort of new game. No: she saw an apparition: a horrid stocking-masked face with the nose all scrunched and spread out by tight taupe nylon.
Win opened her mouth to let out a yell. Her other stocking went right in, and the yell stayed in too.
Stark naked and with her big white breasts riding her chest and ribs and upper arms like two big white San Diego Naval Base pillows, she writhed and jerked and made "guh! gl-l-Uuh!" noises around a mouthful of stocking, hers.
Her captor just stood there beside himself, beside the bed, and he stared at all that bobbing quivering jerking rippling white exciting titty-meat.
"Mus' be jelly," he muttered, "'cause jam don't shake like that!"
And the Phantom Titty-Nut went on a tit-orgy.
First he just grooved on them with his eyes. Then with his hands. He stroked and pressed the massive mounds of Win's gigantic jugs in a lingering, loving massage.
His warmth-radiating hands roamed those mountainous masses, fondled the soft, juggly cushions, manipulated them, worked lovingly over them in soothing loving caresses that would have brought involuntary soft sighs from the bound woman if she hadn't been so scared.
"Oh, oh Jeezis, oh Jeezis Crise, I can't get enough of these sweet knockers!"
Oh my god, she thought, to have to suffer this manhandling of my sweet knockers by a stranger! He's a nut, a maniac, a rapist, a phantom nut in the night-a Phantom Titty-Nut!
"I love them! I love you! I love these big beautiful shivering shimmering titties! I sure hope you like havin' 'em played with! I'm going to play with 'em a lot! I saw you sucking one-this one-and you must have been laying on those jeans to get 'em some rough lovin', while you were usin' both hands to poke that carrot up yourself!"
Hm! Terribly embarrassing . . . and true, she thought, confused and with mixed emotions. Everything he said was true. And he said he loved her massive teats. And ... he said he was going to play with them a lot\
She wondered what things might have been like around here for the past fifteen years or so if that weak-kneed Bill had ever just grabbed her and started doing her boobs this way. (I'd kill him, that's what!)
But . . . she couldn't kill the Phantom Titty-Nut. She couldn't do a blessed thing but lie here and just take whatever he did to her. Hmmml Sure, she'd heard that jazz about if rape is inevitable, relax and enjoy it. Bullshit. A man must have made that one up. That sex-nut Ben Franklin, maybe. But .. . still . . .
He wasn't menacing her with a weapon. Didn't seem to have one. He wasn't raping her. He didn't even sound mean. Just all excited, shaky, out of his gourd over her megatherian mammary masses.
If titty-fondling is inevitable, I might as well relax . . .
... and ...
Enjoy it!
He was squeezing now, his fingers digging into great masses of satiny textured breast-flesh, making it bulge in corpulent white-skinned beauty all around his inpressing fingers, squeezing, noting how those fantastic huge jugs just practically begged to be squashed and rearranged, shaped into new conformations, turned into new shapes-all temporary- furiously palpitating amorphous masses, all kinky and wild and Jeezis Crise Fun!
Every nerve in each big jostling hemisphere was coming alive and tingling in response to his molding reshaping hands ... appreciative response.
"Mmmmmgl-1!" Her eyes flared.
He had just hurt her, hurt her breast while he forced it and its twin into new and fascinating shapes. Hurt her-and the fiery pain went straight down through her viscera to burst into her red-furred cunt like a firecracker.
She wished she could tell him to stick the carrot in her. As long as he was getting so much out of this, she might as well be getting all she could out of it!
Now big hearty to-and-fro manipulations made her big white breasts jiggle and ripple and flop wildly back and forth. Big liquid-filled pillows on her chest. His warm, soothing hands were setting her tits aflame, and there was a lot there to set afire. The brushes of his fingers teased their peaks, firmed those crests, which were pale pink.
On and on he played with her desperately sen sate titties, demanding and enforcing their submission, claiming them, demanding her submission while he spread his titty-loving hands over the smoothly dis-
tended hemispheres and squeezed with demanding, possessive firmness. He rubbed her tits. He squeezed her tits.
In fascination and with a fetishistic ardor he palmed her naked throbbing breasts, his fingers coursing over their nipples, his thumbs moving inward toward the swells of those pretty pink nipples. He worked so casually with her sensitive tits, giving her gentle strokes and finger-pressures that made her flesh fairly sizzle.
He had beaten off in the tree outside, had blown semen into the air to splatter on the ground. And now he had a hard-on again, right up to his navel, while he gathered up a double big fistful of carnation-tinted titty and ground the beloved meat in his grasping hands.
She lurched and showed pain and anguish. Her eyes flashed.
Instantly his fingers returned to titillating the juicily erotic melons with loving caresses. He reshaped them to the dictates of his tit-loving whimsy. His fingers slid over the pink nubbins of her nipples and watched the cute super-sexy way they jutted warmly, rather arrogantly up between his fingers. Like a pair of giant pencil erasers, deep pink. He rubbed those soft lumps, palming the great curves of the fleshy masses from which they sprang like pink springs, slipping thumb and fingers around each sweet crest, making her feel the pressure while he watched the beautiful rush of blood into the pale red tips.
They became a lot deeper red.
So did her face. Her tongue tried to push the cloying, clogging stocking from her mouth. But it was stuffed and wadded and caught in her teeth. Her breasts throbbed and her nipples were starting to pout into passionate red erections.
"Oh shit, I love these dam' big fine titties, lady!"
That, his calling her "lady," reminded her of her pride. Of the ignominy of her situation. She was lying here moaning into a stocking that stuffed her mouth, grooving on the attentions, the manipulation of her sensitive breasts, by a total damned stranger who didn't even know her name but called her lady! Her wrists were bound with thin string so that her hands tingled.
Her feet, however, were free. And she had to do something, for her pride.
She drew up her feet and kicked him. She missed his crotch.
He staggered, but retained his twin titty-grips. He used them to steady himself. If she hadn't been gagged, she'd have screamed at that breast-tugging which was excruciatingly devastatingly painful. She grunted and quivered and made a muffled "Oh!" sound around her mouth-drying tongue-restricting gag-
"Bad!" he chastised her. "I wasn't hurting your titties! You tried to hurt me, though! Now-"
She trembled and stared upward with wide, stricken eyes. She knew what his words meant. Now he would get even. Now he was going to hurt her.
He-he's going to hurt my boobs!
He did.
With a big handful of her more than ample breast-meat in each fist, he began twisting in opposite directions. Big creases ran through the flesh and each breast felt as if assaulted by fire. That hurt. The twin cherry-buds of her nipples took on a scarlet glow. Her tits flamed.
Now his tit-fondling had become a lewd, indecent and cruel assault, and pain shot through her entire organism. She felt tears well up in her eyes, and she couldn't see well, as though looking through water.
He let go. Grunting, he shoved his hands in under her armpits arid dragged her up into a sitting position with her back against the bed's headboard. That way her naked, reddened breasts hung free. And naked. And vulnerable.
He seized on them again, those massive dangling gargantuan breasts. Her eyes stared. She couldn't move her hands. She couldn't speak, or even cry out.
First he hauled the pink-tipped beauties wide apart, turning them into a pair of stretched, creamy white footballs. He grinned at her. Then he slammed his hands together, slapping her poor breasts into each other with pulpy smacking sounds.
She writhed her pain-drawn face. Big tears over-
flowed her wide gray-green eyes to trickle slowly down her soft cheeks.
Again he let go. He had to rearrange his hard-on, still inside his pants. She stared at it. No, she thought, trying to send a message to her cunt: the treacherous stupid damned thing was filling up with juice. Dumb cunt! she thought. He's hurting me. This isn't something to get all charged up and wet and itchy about. This is mean! He's a bad man, a thieving house breaker, and I hate him! I hate this!
Her cunt didn't agree with her. It went right on twitching and creaming. Its thick pink lips parted in avid invitation. Her belly trembled and crawled. Her brain spun.
Now he reached up to close one hand around her dangling left breast and thumb the nipple. In the manner of a prospective buyer testing the point of a knife. She sucked in a quick hissing breath. The knife analogy was apt-his attentions to the ripe nipple soon had it stabbing out like a blood-red dagger. Her nipples were big on her outsized and malleable breasts; that was how she was able to lick and suck her own sweet puffy pulpy nipples.
He bent his head and gave her squeezed nipple a lick.
She sighed, but then trembled apprehensively when he lifted his head and then bent it with a slow deliberation to the deeply red erection he had created on the forefront of her shghtly pendulous, massive, oval-shaped breast. He kissed it. Her defenses melted. The bound, gagged redhead sighed.
Then she felt the slow and steady tightening of his teeth. Another swift nervous breath hissed into her lungs. She held it there, afraid to breathe. His hand, meanwhile, was bunching the tender flesh, squeezing her enormous tit out of shape.
Even while he was hurting her poor breast, she realized that he had never so much as touched her pretty red-orange fleeced cunt. It wriggled as if to gain attention . . .
He began gnawing and nibbling at her rigid nipple, meanwhile gripping her titty so firmly that the marks of his fingers were being branded into the skin of the luscious white globe.
"Mmmmm-"
The monster ignored her. The phantom titty-nut kept right on being a titty-nut. The monster commenced chewing on the large-aureoled nipple, bunching it and all he could of her shapely mass of tender tit-flesh into his mouth where he sucked with such incredible powerful drawing force that it felt to her as if the elongated red berry was going to be torn right off its mooring at the end of her aching breast.
That did it. That scared her, and that brought a reaction from her. But it was not the reaction she'd have expected. Right then, she learned something about herself.
Fingers of pure sensual-sexual fire ran voluptu-
ously all over her, all through her, and she felt marvelous and trembled and heard herself panting plaintively. Deep back inside her open-mouthed, glistening cunt, a thousand ants seemed to go running about, and where they stepped a drop of cream formed. It filled her cunt. She shuddered under the forceful sensation of rapture that flooded through her quivering belly and within the mouth of her cunt . . . the starved, gasping mouth of her deep pink slit.
I wanna be fucked! she screamed inside her head, and cried because she couldn't tell him. I need to be fucked! Tm going out of my bird! I'm so turned on it hurts! Bastard, bastard-pick me up and carry me off to your tent! , Shivers ran through the whole opening length of her creamy-slick channel. Her pussy was an open mouth. It wasn't gagged, and it was yelling. But it had no larynx. It didn't make a sound. Her needy pussy just shouted silently, begging.
He didn't leave off grinding her nipple around in his teeth until he was jerking and panting. Then he let go, and her nipple snapped back to the big pillowy breast it adorned, and the whole pink mass jiggled and swayed and rippled-flaunting a big red ornament like the first joint of her index finger, without the nail, and painted with scarlet polish. It glowed. It stung. It hurt. It hurt good. She'd never seen her nipple so big-and never known it to feel so good.
She got even more excited then, because he was panting and quivering and kneeling up, looking down, opening his pants, reeling out-with difficulty- a nice big fat deeply pink cock. She didn't know if it was circumcised or not. The head was bare, moist-shining, sexy-dark nut with a crying eye, and from the way he stared down at it and said "Wow!" she got the idea that he was looking at a record erection, too, just like her nipple.
Ah! At last! Bill Martin's wife thought. Rape is inevitable.
(At that moment, though she didn't know it, Bill Martin was sprawled on the floor in a sorority house near the campus a dozen blocks away, watching two shapely young ladies lick his cock. Two. Both at once. And damned if the silly dodo didn't think of his wife's great big fine titties, right then.)
Rape was indeed inevitable for Win, but not the way she thought.
Her captor did have to get it off. Since he was a breaker-in, getting it off with her was certainly rape as opposed to that activity people call "making love" while using "fucking" as an adjective, a bad adjective. But. He was not going to get it off in her cunt
He was after all a breast man. A titty-nut In his stocking-mask, he was the Phantom Titty-Nut. And he was wild about this woman's titties, her massive gigantic football-shaped titties.
So he fucked them, while her cunt cried and cried and felt more empty than Shea Stadium after a losing ball game.
He held her breasts partway together. He left a tunnel, a valley just big enough for his mighty hard-on. And he slid that vibrant and distended tool sexily back and forth in the glorious soft nylon-feeling valley of cleavage between the full silky thrusts of her great big breasts. Her breasts looked beautiful wrapped a round his cock. Panting and hunching, he said so. His cock looked great, very dark, going in and out between her breasts. He fucked them, gasping.
His cock was sweating. Her breasts were sweating. Sweat formed a nice layer of grease, not as nice as the cuntal juice designed for that purpose-but to the phantom titty-nut, ravishing the best pair in the world, this was a lot better than any old juicy, clingy, sucking, muscular cunt.
He hunched and punched, fucking titty. He moved steadily, reaming in and out between the ivory pillows, drying the sweat with friction, feeling some pain as unlubricated breast-skin caught abrasively at his bare, blood-filled flesh.
Although her cunt was an aching horribly empty hole that wanted to be filled, his captive was beginning to get into this strange activity. Bill had never fucked her tits. She knew he loved them. She wondered if he'd ever thought about fucking them, like this. The man astride her now had pulled her down, so that her head was almost on the bed again, though not quite. That way she could watch the dark slick hot-looking head of his dick come squirting out from between her breasts, and watch it retreat, the loose skin all around it stretching and partly obscuring it until it vanished again between her breasts-and then came zooming forth again.
It occurred to her then that she was about to get a face full of semen.
She was wrong. The phantom titty-nut had one more fantasy he wanted to realize. Truth to tell, he was single and a masturbater. He always looked at big tits when he beat off, naturally. Sometimes he folded a pillow around his cock and pretended he was fucking a particularly nice pair he'd seen in this or that magazine. (The sexiest pictures were probably on the covers of Cosmopolitan, strangely enough, but those ladies usually weren't as hung as he liked them, the phantom titty-fucker of Elm Street.)
Now he realized that he was going to come, very soon. He realized that he'd shoot his semen into her face. That would be awful, he thought. Really ugly. Really mean. After all, he hadn't really bothered her any, just delighted both of them by spending the past hour or so groping and sucking her titties. It wasn't as if he'd messed with her privates. That would have been bad. He hadn't raped her or anything; rapists were terrible men. He wasn't. He just happened to dig titties. And these just happened to be the best.
His final fantasy was to shoot off on tits. All over tits. And, as he happened to be a masturbater good enough and experienced enough to get a professional license if anyone passed them out for that, he naturally enough put two and two together. He had played with tits. He had treated them nicely and roughly. He had licked and sucked and bitten. He had fucked them. Now all he had to do to make the evening really complete was to jack off and come on them. And after that he'd best get his ass the hell out of here!
So he reared back, letting his cock flip up out from between her massive mammary pillows. And he spat into his hand, and grasped his cock firmly, just right, and treated her to the sight of a real expert beating off.
"Gahhh!'' He growled, loudly, and came.
Hot white ropes of semen flew out of his dark-swollen cock and splashed onto her big shivering breasts. Another big spurt shot violently forth, and" went smack, just below her left nipple. Half swinging his ass and guiding his hose with his hand, he fired off another round of jism, and this one went right over her right nipple, onto the mountainous topside of her breast. Another spurt; on the underside. Swing, and shoo? again: underside of her other breast. And then dwindling driplets of cock-milk, and it was oozing along the marvelous mountainous curvature of her beautiful titties, and he was absolutely ecstatic.
He was also drained, and gasping and moaning. And half-smothered inside that damned stocking.
"I-Im-m . . . going t-to leave nowww," he said, gasping. He glanced around. "I bet if you got up and went over to the dresser and turned around, you could get loose pretty quick. I see it has a glass top. The edge won't be sharp, but it oughtta cut that little ole string."
"Guhinmfff !" Her eyes rolled.
"I love you," he stammered hotly, and then the Phantom Titty-Nut left the bed and took off, zipping his depleted peter up in his pants as he went.
Win Martin did a lot of sobbing while she got herself off the bed and went over to the dresser. She twisted her arms a bit and started sawing the string on the rounded edge of a piece of glass designed not to have a cutting edge.
By the time she finally got her hands parted, she had leaked a lot of tears, and pussy juice, and she was mad. She had been so charged up. So turned on. And he had wasted his cock on her tits, and wasted his sperm there too. Dumb bastard! And now-now-she'd spent so damned long getting the damned string cut that she had wound down.
"He could've at least raped me with the carrotl" Win Martin stormed, once she'd get her stocking out of her mouth. (It was an extra, now. The Phantom Titty-Nut had been pulling the other one off while he ran out the door. She had an idea he'd be keeping it, though. A little souvenir.)
His souvenir still dripped off her tits. She went into the bathroom and wiped it off with a wet washcloth. She wiped a lot. She pinched her nipple, with the wet rough cloth over her fingers. Ouch! That was the one he'd chewed! She pinched the other one. Then, thoughtfully, she looked around. She tossed the wet washcloth at the towel bar and got another one-a dry washcloth.
It was a lot rougher.
She began buffing her nipple with it, while she went back into the bedroom for the carrot. To hell with calling the police. It would be embarrassing. Besides-he hadn't even raped her.
Damn him!
Chapter Eight
Hours had passed in the Chapter House Of Delta Iota Kappa Sorority.
The whole second floor reeked of sex. The odors of drying semen, vaginal sap, perspiration and plain sweat combined to make the air heavy and sensually humid. Naked young women and plain girls lay strewn about in deliciously abandoned postures, sexed into that happiest of sleeps that would have them all good-humored when they awoke. Their naked bodies, plump and slim and plain thin, glistened with the evaporating sweat of sensuality, more than exertion-though there had been exertion, too. Drying semen sparkled on thighs and the pubic bushes it matted.
Some of the Delt Ts, too, bore traces of dirt and grease from the jacket and hands of motorcyclist Dave Griffey. He lay among them, tapped out and limp, with a rumpled penis to match. Grif slept soundly.
Fred Foster and Henrietta Nettles, each 5' 10", she 152-149, by now-and he 139 pounds, had not emerged from her room. Its door remained locked, from the inside. Only Fred, who was watching from her bed, knew that Hank Nettles was packing up to move out of the sorority house-and in with him.
The trucker, Mickey White, had been so gentle with the trembling virgin who came to him that three others had lined up to be uncherried by him. He had respected their imposition of the equal time rule. He had prevailed, too, though Mickey conked out before the fourth girl did. He too lay as if dead, surrounded by his conquests. They were naked and their legs were open. Their pubic rugs were matted with his semen and with the darker stain of dried hymeneal blood. All slept smiling.
Victoria Chambliss was not smiling.
She sat on the floor near Grif, and the wreckage of her fraternal sisters. Her legs were sprawled lewdly wide. She leaked tears while she anxiously diddled herself. Victoria was not only the best looking member of DIK, she was one of the very best looking students on campus. Yet, she alone had not been fucked. Surely the presidential gavel that had reamed both her vagina and her rectum did not count....
Sniffing, leaking tremulous, sparkly tears, her lips trembling, she played with herself.
Bill Martin was a man who had never been made love to, and so demanded that experience. He had received it tonight/this morning, rather more than once!
Now, though exhausted and barely able to keep awake, he sat slumped on the floor with his back against the Chapter Room Wall. And He Watched, While His Second Debbie Bounced Up And Down On His Cock.
IBs cock was erect, though shaky. Bill Martin had amazed himself. First, he'd hardly thought of Winifred (damn her). Second, he felt no guilt. Third, he had been ridden by no less than five young women, four of whom had also mouthed and sucked his fiery-red organ. Meanwhile, he had played with thirteen tits, six cunts, and had come three times. That was more climaxes than he'd reached all last month.
This time, this last time, he didn't think he was going to make it. It wouldn't matter, though, to the girl who'd been bobbing and jostling on his upright cock for some twenty minutes; she was gasping for breath, positively running with sweat, and about to fall asleep at any second.
Alice Wheelwright lay asleep. She had knelt behind under the presidential desk for a sohd hour, nuzzling, licking, sucking, mouth-fucking the long cock of Doc Driessen. Then, for thirty slow minutes, she had lain beneath him and been gloriously rucked. She lay asleep, without an ounce of semen in her expanded vagina.
Nearby lay another girl, seventeen, who'd ridden that same old cock-for seventeen minutes before. Shuddering in her fourth orgasm, she passed happily out.
Alone of all the invaders of DIK, Doc Driessen sat unexhausted, and he had not come.
Alone of all the members of the sorority, Victoria Chambliss sat unexhausted and tightly hung up. With eyes from which tears slid to sparkle on her cheeks, she gazed at Doc Driessen. And she rubbed and fingerfucked her reddened pussy.
Down the hall in a bedroom, seventeen-year-old service station employee Cesar Perez awoke, amid a clutter of happily snoozing young women. The room was full of the sound of deep, heavy breathing. One girl snored-Jugs, he noted. Maybe it was the weight of those massive teats trembling atop her chest.
The four naked female bodies, intertwined with his legs and all with each other, reminded him of a gigantic bowl of spaghetti. Cesar smiled. Tottering to his feet, he departed the room, feeling a bit tired but rejuvenated after an hour's nap. After all, he was seventeen. He'd come six times-but after all, he was at his sexual peak, which is usually wasted in boys his age. After all, he was seventeen. His stomach rumbled as he reached the door.
Cesar actually sneaked along the upstairs hall, and barefooted it down the steps. He didn't even peep into the Chapter Room; He Was Uninterested In Pussy Just Now. He'd Had A Lot, This Day, In The Past Twelve Or Thirteen Hours. He was hungry. That happens often, at age seventeen.
He went to the kitchen, his visit to which eight or nine hours ago had started this wild night's activities in the Delt I house, which would never, never be the same.
There was a bit of leftover chili. He avoided it. He made himself a sandwich of leftover meat loaf from the big refrigerator. Wolfing it, he chased it with a glass of milk and left the kitchen via a different doorway.
He was padding, naked, through the darkened living room when he heard the choking sniffs. Cesar recognized the sounds of a woman's quiet sobbing. He turned that way. Somehow he managed to reach the couch without banging into anything. Standing over the couch, he was barely able to make out the pale form huddled at one end. It was sobbing, very quietly and heartbrokenly; forlornly. He squatted.
"Don't cry," he murmured, and his hand moved out to touch an ankle.
The ankle twitched. "Oh!"
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. But don't cry. Is it all right. Why are you crying?" He licked his hps, patted the ankle. "Can-can I help?" He did hate for women and girls to cry. Cesar Perez, in truth, was a nice boy.
"N-no one c-ca-an help," she gasped out, and it was not a girl's voice he heard there in the dark, but a woman's.
"Well . . . well ... I will stay . . . and . . . talk awhile?"
"My God! I don't need to TALK!"
Cesar sighed. Perhaps it was her tone, or instinct, or both: he suddenly was sure that this was someone who'd been left out, somehow. Ignited just like all the others by the stuff he had put in the chili, she had somehow failed to be included in the resultant fucking.
Cesar felt responsible. After all, it was he who had doctored the chili that turned on everyone in the house. His hand moved gently up her leg onto a large smooth thigh, and onto the curve of a womanly haunch. A great tremor went through her and she twitched. Her trembling mouth released a shaky moan.
"Move your arms," he said, finding her hands at her face. Brave person, she'd been muffling her own sobbing.
"Wh-why . . ." she began, but she did.
His hand went onto her breasts. They were sizable, not huge, and soft-very soft. Malleable and sort of loose, not youthfully muscular. Like big marsh-mallows. He caressed those soft tits.
"You... you're only a boy."
He knew who she was, now. "Don' call me a boy and I won' call you an old woman, Miz Munson. You aren't."
"Oh," she moaned, and reached out for him.
A few moments later she said, "Call me Thelma, Caesar," and she pronounced it imperially, "Seezer" rather than Hispanically: "Say-zarr."
Thus, in the quiet darkness of the living room, Cesar Perez and Thelma Munson got together and cuddled. The boy not yet eighteen and the woman in her forties began to make each other very, very happy.
Upstairs Doc Driessen said, "You're crying." "I'm not!" Victoria kept rubbing, and staring at him.
"Your cheeks are covered with tears and they are dripping onto your perfectly lovely breasts," he pointed out.
"Well, that's not crying."
"It may be fun to make a career of being a bitch, Victoria, and it may be something you think you have to do because of whatever your home situation has been. It sure plays hell getting you friends, though, and sympathy when you need it. You need it. I said a few words, and the moment I did your shoulder automatically extruded a chip." He yawned, only slightly. "I don't feel like knocking it off. I'll bet most people don't. They just walk away from you."
Those quiet, unaccusing words from a man of good vocabulary, a man old enough to be her grand-
father or replace the father she couldn't bear, made Victoria break down at last. Victoria cried like a baby.
After a time Doc said, "That's good. That's probably doing you a world of good, too. See how human and normal you are? Nevertheless, the man hasn't been born who can bear a woman's crying. No, not even old Marquis de Sade or Grif, there, I'm thinking. Come here, Victoria."
Crying, she hugged herself, bent forward as she sat on the floor, and shook her head vehemently.
"Victoria," he said firmly, as he'd have said to a child, without anger, "get up and come over here to Doc."
Snuffling, long and lean and curved and beautiful, Victoria Amanda Chambliss got up and went over to Doc. She stood, huddled. Definitely not as he'd have done to a child, Doc bent forward in his chair to pat her ashy-blond pussy.
"There, pretty thing, pretty blond pussy. Did the nasty gavel hurt you? Is it sore, Victoria?"
"No-o ... it just itches so! I mean it ... I want . . . he-he did all those things to me, and put me down so far, and teased me with th-the ga-gavel . . . but he he never gave me what I NEEEEED!"
Doc let his thumb slip up between soft, pursed lips and watched her teary-dewy eyes go out of focus. "Yes," he said. "I know what you need, of course. The same thing every one of your sisters needed tonight. A bit of-this." He pumped his thumb up her cush.
"Hunngh! That-that helps . . . bu-but what I need, really NEED, is-you know. You're a man." She looked down from his face. To his cock.
"Cock," he said.
A shudder ran through her. She nodded, and a tear flew. "Cock!"
"Would you like to suck one? Play with it with your mouth and fingers and tongue, move your mouth on it, feel it grow?"
"I'd rather just have it IN me-ee!"
"Ah, egocentricity, Victoria is thy name! There isn't one in this room that's ready to go in you, girl. With a little effort, though-on your part-this ole dingus of mine will fill this poor itchy cavity very, very nicely."
With a sigh, Victoria knelt down before him and began giving it a little effort. She gave it more and more.
Kneeling, the best looking girl in DIK teased and excited the scientist with her nimble tongue, nibbling lips, and naughty fingers. Wet and glistening, her sexy pink tongue licked the pulpy knob of man-flesh she held firmly pointed at her face. Playing with his balls the while, gray-furred and sizable, she slid her lips over the darkening cockhead. Her puckered lips kissed down its left side and down the shaft to his nuts, then back up the left side to the head, which she licked and licked until it shone with her saliva.
His cock grew.
Her tender, purposeful ministrations could not be ignored, even by that lanky, limp hose. Meanwhile, her other hand was very busy, down between her parted thighs.
"Oh Christ," he sighed, fondling her bare tight breast. "You keep that up and you're going to get your kidneys prodded!"
She kept it up. His cock swelled, stirred into new life in her soft, pretty mouth. It had been long licked and sucked tonight, and it had long delved in and out of warm tight young pussy. It had given up no semen. Now it filled with blood again, thickened, lifted its growing pink head.
Doc groaned. Victoria moaned and licked, then bobbed her head to drive her splaying lips up and down his staff. Up and up it came, while she licked up and down its undersurface, where the sperm tube swelled. The empurpled, swollen flesh of his penis grew until it looked about ready to split wide open.
"There," she told him, sitting back on her haunches and looking very proud.
"Oh, Victoria, you did that beautifully! Wonderfully! Look at what you created! Christ, what a mouth! What a woman!"
She smiled, but her brows came down a little. "I am looking at it. I want it. I don't want to look at it. I want it in me."
Doc started rising. 'Hit the deck."
A happy young beauty hit the deck, or rather the carpeted, body-strewn floor of the Delta Iota-Kappa Chapter Room. And The Lean, Wrinkled Old Man With The Hellish Hard-On Went To His Knees Between Her Parted Legs, which parted wider. Her hands came up to him. He told her to use one to guide his cock, and she did. He leaned out over her, on his knees, and as he stretched out she fitted the knob of his swollen dick into herself.
"Aaaghhaaaa!" she cried out in triumphant delight. "Gaaahhh! It-fee-feels WON-der-fulllll!"
"Christ almighty, doesn't it!" he said, and began moving, slowly and fully, all the way in and nearly all the way out, with infinite patience.
His lustful stabs into her wetly pulsating pit increased in power and frequency-only a little-and powerful sensations ripped into the wallowing girl's pussy. She keened out a little cry of sexual hunger while he leaned patiently, slowly, into the erratic spiral upward to passionate fulfillment for them both.
Neither of them was in any hurry for that. Both of them were happy just to be fucking, to fuck and fuck. His cock was wedged tightly up her tight, narrow canal of lust.
"Good . . . fuckin' . . . cunt," he groaned in a quivery voice, plumbing that good fucking cunt And she felt not the least bit insulted.
"Good," she murmured, jerking her head back and forth with blond hair flying. "Goo-ood! It's-nice to have a-good, fucking cunt!" And she fucked with it.
He worked his hips up and down her hips. He worked her malleable tits up and down on her chest. They were nice and smooth and tight under his hands, tight as the skinned, ripe oranges they resembled. He could feel her body trembling with excitement Slow and easy, he kept telling himself. And he fucked her on the floor, slow and easy.
Her hips humped softly, pleading. Her hands caressed his sagging asshceeks. The rippling membranous walls of her young pussy massaged his old dog of a cock.
A grin came over her face. "Good fuckin' cock," she said, and they smiled together, the delighted old man and the delighted young woman.
Her stomach muscles twitched and jerked and ripples raced through her taut body. Her rutting lover was foraging between spongy, honey-slick lips and into her deep wet trench, until his dick was powerfully lodged far inside. Her strong-muscled fleshy vault squeezed it.
That sweet cuntal action on his cock enveloped him in a fog of pleasure. He forgot where he was, and all the naked girls sprawled about. Forgot Grif and Mickey and Bill Martin. He thought only of sensation, of fucking, of himself and this wonderful supple slim tight girl.
"Ah-ah Victoria," he gasped, rooting deep.
Her arms enfolded him and her hands tugged lovingly at him. "Call me Vicky," Victoria Chambliss, Miss Snooty-Snotty, said.
"Jesus Crise," Dave Griffey muttered staring. "That's sickening!"
Beside him, Anne Treece slipped her hand into his crotch and whispered in his ear. He jerked his head to stare at her. His hand came up and clamped her breast as if it wanted to tear off that pretty morsel of woman-flesh.
"You silly bitch," he said, and twisted.
She smiled and pressed his cock.
Yanking her breast until she fell with a little squeak, Grif lurched to his feet. He found his pants. Stepping into them, he stared at her. "Get dressed, slut. That's yer name: slut. Get some clothes on, slut!"
She bounced up to obey, red of breast and smiling of face. A couple of minutes later they were in the kitchen wolfing down food from the fridge. With his hand in her hair, twisting, Grif made Anne Treece gobble down leftover chili. On their way to the door, they passed through the living room. Dawn lit it dimly.
They saw two people in the room, and they paused to stare. The lithe, dark young boy and the plump older woman. She was holding her white pil-
lowing soft tits for him, wrapping them around the cock he hunched between them. His hand was fiddling around in her crotch, which was wet and drooling.
Grif shoved Anne out the door. "Jesus fuckin' Crise, that's sickening!"
Moments later several neighbors were awakened by the kick, kick, and roar to life of a big motorcyle engine. Just up the street, an angry woman got to the window in time to see the motorcycle roll by. Hmp! Not even the usual college lads, she thought. Just some nasty leather-jacked biker with his slut mounted up behind him, her arms around him while that big machine vibrated between her legs.
The big bike roared off, and away.
"C'mon back to bed, Mabel. They're gone."
She turned to glare at the man in the bed she'd left. "Those damned nasty kids, wakin us up at this hour! We'll never get back to sleep."
"Yeah, well, Mabel-c'mon back to bed."
"What for? I can't get back to sleep," she ranted. "Might as well stay up!"
"C'mon back to bed," he said again, grinning, stretching out a hand. "I see an ass and a few other things I want."
"Mike! I-you-ifs not even SaturdayF
"Yeah well, I don't hafta get up for work for an hour, and like you said, who can get back to sleep?"
Wearing a surprised smile, Mabel returned to the bed, and she had a soft spot for motorcycles ever after.
Thelma Munson astonished Cesar. She was tighter in the cunt than a girl. He said so. She chuckled and squeezed him lovingly to her.
"Why not? It doesn't grow bigger inside with age! The child I had was a Caesarean, Cesar. I've never been stretched-uh. Well . . . maybe not . . . uh!-until . . . now ... oh you beautiful lo-OHver . . . um, uh, unngh, ummm . . ."
Her loins pistoned in rhythm with his movements and cunt swallowed cock in great gulps. The yearning woman's breasts heaved with every persistent stroke of that virile, rigid youthful cock that prowled around inside her. His lean young hips were beating out a steady rhythm on her lower belly and the nice fluffy-haired mountain of her pubis, which he stuck full of hardened dick.
While he balled the very mature woman on the couch, his hands couldn't get enough of her fluffy, squishy breasts. He kneaded and kneaded them, while he drove cock in and out and in and out of that long-unused slice between her thighs. She had not had a man since the shocking accidental death of her husband, nine years ago.
She had not forgotten, the young lover noticed. He loved her movements, her grunts and groans and moans and gasps, all signals to let him know she loved it. Too many younger gals Cesar had noticed tried to be too cool, and didn't make the sounds a guy needed. Also, Thelma wasn't the sort just to lie there and be fucked. She was an eager and active participant-and good at her eager actions, too.
The passion-ruled housemother felt his ramming cunt-spreading pole throbbing in her and loved his youthfulness. Way up inside her body he was, seeming to swell hugely and then subside with each blood-pumping pulsation and strong thrust and tug, thrust and thrust. Her soft breasts jumped and jiggled and gave under his hands and his hard chest; they were neither empty sagging sacs nor tight and girlishly upstanding, the moaning woman's mature breasts. His hands on them sent quivers of delight and ever-strong desire through her sensitive flesh.
In a helpless state of sultry desire, the older woman met his strongly fucking young body with strong upthrusts. And she gave free, liberated vent to every noise she felt like making. He made her feel like making lots of them.
She moved fluidly, squirming about all warm and sensual and working her hips in a circular motion. He-fucked her well and thoroughly, with squishy squashy sounds while he half-knelt over her on the couch. Small and red, her pointed tongue rolled around her swollen hps.
His taut ass bobbed furiously up and down. He thrust sword-like, in and out of her snug, twitching sheath. Hanging onto the lovely dumplings of her titties, he pushed and pulled her on his swording cock.
Luscious, voluptuously pink cuntlips flowed over his shank in constant fleshy caresses.
He liked the feel under him of her belly, not flat and taut but soft and cushy. With her hips shifting and her asscheeks tightening just as his did, into hard softballs, he threw a thorough fuck into the woman just a year older than his mother.
She felt even his balls, banging her, thudding heavily against the juddering cheeks of her abundant ass. Her lip was quivering. Her features writhed. Now they were both gasping for breath so hard that they could speak only with their writhing, lunging bodies.
Grinning, groaning hoarsely, he pumped. He had come six times already, and. his balls were in no hurry to give up the little semen they had barely had time to store up. It was a beautifully long fuck.
Upstairs, Bill Martin awoke. His brain required some time to get itself together and remind him where he was. He looked around. Jesus.
He looked at his watch.
"Jesus."
Bill Martin carefully moved a very female, very curvy leg off his, twisted away from a warm female ass shoved up against his flank, and-with the help of the wall behind him-got to his feet. He gazed down at a thin, loose-skinned, wrinkled old ass bobbing up and down, up and down, with a rhythm like a metronome. On either side of it long prettily shaped legs pumped the air.
Martin half-smiled and gave his head a single shake. Victoria looked like she was riding a bicycle, while lying on her back, getting herself balled with a slow and perfect rhythm by ole Doc Driessen!
But the time, Bill Martin told himself. Winifred ...
He collected his clothes quietly, pretending he didn't notice the eyes of the girl under Doc. She was watching Martin. He dressed, and he left. He didn't even notice the couple on the couch in the living room as he went down and let himself quietly out the front door. The sky was no longer black, or deep blue; it had gone gray with the approach of sunrise. Bill Martin hied himself homeward, a bit wearily but most happily . . .
As he went, he thought about his marriage, and about his wife. Winifred . . .
"Now," Doc said, propped on his elbows. "It-it's cominnng . . . move! Move under me g-woman! Bring ... me ... off!"
With a sudden determined, delighted smile, the willowy girl did. Her sleek asscheeks went into permanent tension and drove her up hard enough to jar him while her cunt streaked up to swallow the male strength of his fleshy club, right to the precious semen-loaded balls.
Her cooing sounds of joy caressed his ears. Joy! Sheer joy! The joy of fucking! The joy of being fucked by a man who was a born woman-pleasing fucker, and to hell with his age and his wrinkles! The joy of working to bring him off-She did.
She hadn't come, but then she never had with a man, and she knew or at least hoped that someday she would. It wasn't so unusual, she knew-and if anybody can do it for me, she thought with some amazement, it's this man right here-ummm! This gallant darling man shooting my pussy full of slippery semen!
With her cunt like a warm, oily-gloved hand pumping his cock, working almost feverishly beneath him, Doc's entire nervous system exploded in glorious sexual release.
Jerking penis inundated her cunt with pressurized blasts of cascading sperm. In a copious cascade, semen kept coming and coming into her clasping, twitching pussy. Doc groaned and writhed and leaned into her, and she hugged him lovingly.
Neither of them had any notion that his orgasm was simultaneous with that of the much, much younger Cesar Perez, downstairs, his cock blowing loose inside a woman whose age suited her more to be Doc's partner-though he was nearly twenty years older than Thelma Munson, at that.
And then, on both floors, strange words were spoken.
"Ooooh, lovely!" a voice said, from behind Cesar. "Doesn't it feel wonderful, Miz Munson?" another voice put in.
"I remember very, very well what that good old stuff feels like, coming in!" a third voice said with enthusiasm.
Caesar and Thelma twitched around to stare. Three naked young women stood there, grinning, though they were only just visible in the still-dark living room. They were Mary, Kathy and Kathy-who-was-Jugs.
"Oh my god!" Thelma Munson said.
"Ah, don't sweat it, Miz Munson," Kathy said, with a wave of her hand.
"We've been talking," Jugs said.
"We think the sorority ought to have a man around the house. The KD's do, you know. Old Mister Cartwright. But we might need some really tricky work, you know?" Mary was grinning. "Like, work we'd need a young man for."
"What lind of a time is this," Thelma Munson said, "to come barging in here and-"
"And here's something else," Mary went on. "That room in the basement. All that nice room going to waste down there, with the separate entry. Oh, it's part of your apartment, Miz M, but you don't even use it.
"Perfect room for a hired man for Delt I," Jugs said hopefully.
"So how about it, Miz Munson?" Kathy asked.
"How about it, Cesar?" Mary asked. "Like a nice interesting job, little work, fair pay, nice room, good food? Weill . . . pretty good food . . . and excellent fringe benefits!"
"Oh," Mrs. Munson said, in dawning understanding. "Oh!" And she smiled, holding Cesar's ass-cheek fondly in one hand without even knowing it. "Ah-oh!"
While upstairs . . . almost directly over their heads, Victoria Chambliss was speaking, and her words were just as surprising-both to her and to Doc Driessen, who still lay on her. He had to. Her arms held him there, lustfully, lovingly clamping.
"Doc," she said, quietly and earnestly, "I'm twenty years old. Be twenty-one this year. I was a virgin until just year before last. Since then I've made it with thirty-three guys. Eighty-nine fucks, exactly. You make ninety, and I don't count that dam' gavel! The oldest guy was about twenty-seven, and the youngest was seventeen. He balled me three times in an hour and a half. I hardly noticed."
"Why-are you telling me all this?" Doc asked, frowning.
"Sh-just listen a minute, OK? I should call this number ninety and ninety-one. NO one's ever hung in there so long before. Man, it's the absolute greatest. If I'm ever going to come, this is what it's going to take. Doc . . . would you like to be my guy?"
"Victoria-" "Call me Vicky."
"Vicky, you are not quite twenty-one . . . and I am three times that!" "So?"
"So! So aren't we a pretty weird couple?"
She squeezed him. "Gee Doc, all I'm asking is if you'll let me come around and get properly fucked now and then. You don't have to let anyone know you're making it with such a silly youngster. I mean, I'm not talking about going to the movies or rock concerts or dinner!"
Suffering an attack of caution, the elated Doc Driessen was smart enough not to give her his address or the rest of his name.
"I'll call you, Vicky. Here. Day after tomorrow."
"Oh, Doc! I think I love you!" And she squeezed him tight and about then someone let out a terrible shriek. It came from the bathroom.
"I'M BROKEN OUT ALL OVER LIKE-like MEASLES! Only it's GREENISH! AND ... and so's my PISSSSS!"
At those anguishedly howled words, Vicky let go Doc and jerked up, frowning, and Doc noticed her face. It was all broken out. Looked like measles-except that the irruptions bore a definite green tinge.
Chapter Nine
Mickey White's big semi tractor-trailer rig barreled down the highway, his CB letting him know it was OK to keep up his sixty-nine miles an hour speed. Just so long's he got way, way away from that sorority house full of green-speckled girls who were all pissing green!
In the back seat of a taxicab taking him home, Doc Driessen suddenly lurched forward to look out. Yeah, that was she, all right. The waitress they'd tried out the formula on, yesterday. Maybe the subject had to sleep awhile before the strange effect happened. Victoria had dropped off a time or two, hadn't she? At any rate-the waitress, like all the DIK sisters, was green-speckled and hurrying into the hospital emergency room.
Doc's examination of Vicky Chambliss had already indicated no other effects. Just green excrescences and green urine. Some bodily reaction to his formula. A chemical change, inside. Nothing serious.
He leaned back and sighed. "Back to the old drawing board," he muttered. "Or rather the lab."
Then he grinned. "Well . . . Vicky can be my subject this time. Shell be willing, I've no doubt!" And he proudly patted his crotch.
Meanwhile, hours away, Grif and Anne Treece were barreling down the highway on his motorcycle. And Fred and Henrietta, despite her weird rash, were busily moving her into his apartment. And Cesar was sound asleep in the bed in the downstairs room that would soon be his, as soon as he called the service station to let 'em know he quit . . . and then went home and got his stuff. He was going to love his new digs, and his new employers, the girls of Delta Iota Kappa sorority!
And at Bill Martin's house ...
Bill had arrived just before sunup and let himself in very, very quietly Some clever thinking had resulted in his neatly hanging up his coat, getting a topcoat from the hall closet, and stretching out on the living room couch. He'd be here, sweetly snoozing, no hangover, no liquor on his breath, no headache, when Winifred awoke and came down later. Where had he been? Out! He was damned well going to turn over a new leaf. There'd be a few changes around here, or ... or else. He loved her, or thought he did. He loved Winifred's magnificently breasted body. But she'd start behaving differently, or he'd just move out and call a lawyer. He had never had such an enormous soaring feeling of confidence in his life. He went to sleep.
While he slept, various doctors examined various girls and found nothing they could identify. The girls were fine. They just happened to be broken out in citrine hives or warts or something, and happened to piss green. And they noticed that each time they went to the bathroom, the green tinge was paler. And the breaking out was not so noticeable. It was all going away.
Bill Martin knew nothing about that. He knew nothing about the measles-like rash or the strangely hued urine; he'd left before the phenomena manifested themselves. And he slept. And slept.
Bill Martin awoke. His wife Win stood over him.
"Morning," Bill said.
"Good MOR-is that all you've got to say?"
Bill yawned. He had resolved to turn over a new leaf. Don't be intimidated, he told himself. You called and said you had to work late. Now brazen the rest through, Bill. Get ahold of yourself-and Win ... and your marriage!
He scratched. "Just at the moment. I just woke up-and I'm a bit stiff. Got to admit the bed's more comfortable than the couch."
"Then just why aren't you in it?"
Bill yawned. "I told you I had to work late. You haven't forgotten? Good. Well-I had no idea it would be so late. I just decided to flake out down here, rather than disturb you getting into bed." He swung his legs over, looked at his watch. "Oh hell! You overslept and didn't wake me-guess you forgot to set the alarm with me not here, huh? Well! I've got to get out of here!"
She followed him around, sputtering, incredulous that he was so cool and unapologetic, while he stripped, shaved, dressed again, without a shower. He said nothing about breakfast and neither did she. She wanted to tell him about her experience of last night; wanted to chew his ass; wanted him to apologize and grovel and then sympathize with his poor almost-raped wife. With him hurrying so to get to the office though, adamant and barely responsive to her increasingly shrill, petulant words, she decided to hold that story for tonight.
Still sputtering, she hit on one last try as he reached the front hall: "I do hope you won't have to ... work late... again tonight."
"I will not. I absolutely will not, Win! If Crutcher wants me to, I'll just have to tell him tough titty; you and I have something going tonight." He smiled and, totally unlike him, slapped her ass.
Her eyebrows had already danced upward at his "tough titty" phrase, which wasn't like him; neither was a slap on her fundament anything either of them was accustomed to.
"William Martin!"
"William Henry Martin," he said, nodding. "Yep. That's me, that's me. Now don't let me be a liar to Crutcher, Win. Let's get something on tonight." He swallowed nervously. Oops. She probably didn't know that phrase. "Get it on" was what those sorority girls said instead of "fuck." Some of them. Some of the time. "Put on something sexy, why don't you, Win? Break out that old Merry Widow bra you say's gone out of style. Maybe that low-necked lavender thing. Flash me with some of that magnificent marvelous breast flesh of yours! Ho ho!" And he grabbed her and gave her a sudden kiss that would have melted wax.
"B-BILL!"
"See ya tonight, sweetheart," he said, and slapped her ass, and departed.
She stood staring after him, absently rubbing her backside.
Bill reached the office twenty-three minutes late. No way to be sneaky about it. Crutcher was standing there in the outer office, hovering over the new girl, and he turned and stared as Bill entered.
"Good morning, Bill. You are, late," Crutcher said, with a measured beat between each word.
"Morning, Earl. Yeah-first time in over two years!" he said, and went into his office. He didn't look back at Earl Crutcher, knowing the man was standing there staring, wanting to say that same line to be used on kids: "Is that all you have to say?"
Crutcher didn't. Bill put in a damned .good day's work.
When he reached home that evening, he was disappointed to see that Win wore neither the old-time Playboy Bunny bra nor the scoop-neck lavender top. As a matter of fact she wore the old chenille robe that hung like a sack and whose blue was faded to a cloudy-sky gray. Spite.
"HI BABE!" he cried gustily, and gave her another of those huge hugs and long deep kisses. And, leaving her giddy and confused, he bounced up the steps. When he descended, he was wearing one of the V-necked teeshirts that looked good on him, and a pair of tightish tan chinos. He bustled into the kitchen.
"How's about a Martini?" he gusted. "You'll have to fix it," she said, without turning from the stove. "Right. I am."
He was sipping it, not leaving the kitchen, when she said, "I don't know what happened to you last night, but you're not yourself."
He didn't know that was her lead-in to telling him what had happened to her last night. "Win: yes I am! I am myself. Exactly. I just haven't been, for several years."
She wheeled to stare at him, her hands on her hips. "Must be change of life!"
"The hell it is! I'm not old enough! We're both still young enough to-my GOD, woman, look at you!
You shameless wench-you're braless inside that loose thin robe, aren't you!"
She was, and somehow she was soon backed up against the sink and the robe was wide open and her husband had one hand working in her crotch and one at her right breast while he licked and sucked the stiffening tip of the left one. She began to moan and shiver. She stopped objecting and trying to push him away.
"Ummmmgrrrrgllll-rrr!" he said, around her breast, and he bit.
"Oww!"
Keeping both hands clamped, two fingers up a warm cleft that had definitely just squirted over his knuckles, he pulled back from her breast. "Hurt you?"
She blinked, shivering. "You-you-of course you hurt me! You bit my breast!"
"So I did. Lick it and make it well," he said, and proceeded to that activity.
He kept it up until she was moaning and quivering and tugging his head to her, soundlessly praying that he'd bite it again. Her prayers were answered. "Ow!" she cried, and he grabbed her upper arms with both hands and chewed her swollen aureole and thickly stabbing nipple. She whined. She trembled. She squirmed, rubbing her chenille-clad butt against the sink. She closed her eyes. It was the Phantom Tit-nut all over again-and all over again, she loved it!
He loosened up his grip on her arms. "Get my pants open," he mumbled, around the nipple in his mouth.
"Bill! Dinner!"
He released her, swung to the stove, punched off the three burners, and swung back, all in about three seconds.
"You'll spoil my dinner!"
"I'll spoil yer ass if you don't shut up and get my pants open!" he told her very positively, and seized on both her breasts. Using those big gourds to pull her to him, he opened her mouth but shut off her words, with a kiss. She struggled against him. He let go one breast and slapped her butt, then grabbed a handful of that jiggling cheek.
"Jesus Christ Bill Martin you can't TREAT me like this!"
He was much into his role. Act confident and cool, and something happens. So long as it isn't overdone to become ridiculous . . . you feel confident and cool. Bill Martin did. Besides-as well to be hanged for a horny goat as for a lamb!
"It's going to have to be rape, then," he said, growling around her breast, which he bit. And then he raped her.
It was the first time they'd fucked on the floor in eleven years. The floor was chilly-at first. It soon warmed up, under the cushiony ass Bill Martin's body was pounding into the linoleum tiles, while rodding his cock in and out of his wife's wide open and very wet and hot pussy. She minded plenty-for about thirty seconds. Then she couldn't mind anything, other than those eleven blown years.
She was exceptionally, unbelievably turned on. Her inner cunt writhed and seethed and leaked the juices of her passion in hot trickles. It squished as he ran cock in and out of her.
"Oh yeah, yeahh, yesssss, oh, oh do me, do me good and hard!" Unable to stop, she kept emitting high, sobbing squeals of pleasure and delight. She couldn't understand it. She didn't care, though. It was as if Bill knew about what had happened last night, knew what she needed and wanted, and was resolved to turn over a new leaf and give it to her. She met every one of his hard, jarring strokes with an insistent pumping of her broad hips. Sobbing gasps poured from her quivering lips and tremors shook her sensual and bewitching body, its breasts shaking like great masses of cream-stuffed rubber.
Her body was wracked by a huge upheaval and his deeply delving cock was squeezed viciously. Her legs kicked high on either side of him. Passion distorted her features. Her face writhed. He'd come a lot last night/this morning, and he wasn't about to be easily got off now. He hadn't yet discovered Vitamin E, and wasn't yet into the increased sexuality he planned to continue from now on. He fucked and fucked, loving it, loving what he was doing, loving what he was doing to her, and he didn't give a shit whether he came for an hour.
Neither did Win Martin. She lay there, moaning and groaning, grunting and gasping, making high squealy noises, and clutched at him and tried to hump up against his plunging lunging body. That wasn't easy, with him banging her as hard as he was. She tried anyhow. His ass swiveled lewdly in his efforts to drive in farther. Hard-driving cock massaged the trembly, tissue-like walls of her pussy, and it was one hell of a forceful massage. Under his pounding chest, her finely molded big titty-mounds swelled beautifully with the passion that rippled hotly through the writhing, delighted woman.
"Ah!" she cried. "Ha! Ah, annngh!" Great strong male organ found a home within her and he claimed possession of her inner chamber with vicious twists of his hps. He claimed possession of her. And he was damned well going to maintain that possession, and control.
Doc Driessen's formula had changed a sorority. It had changed a number of girls, all of whom were by now nearly over their rashes, and no longer pissing green. It had changed the men, too-and it had changed Bill Martin, and his life, and his wife and her life. Doc Driessen was a hero and didn't know it.
Bill Martin had become a hero to his wife, and she knew it, and he was about to. He shuttled about inside her, shuttling his hips from side to side, back and forth, delighting in the sheer wanton youthful lust that registered on his woman's writhing features. They looked lovely that way. She looked sexy, and happy. He fucked hard, and their bodies moved helplessly across the floor.
He fucked her through two shaking quaking squealing orgasms. He fucked her half-unconscious. He fucked her for twenty-eight minutes, and then, lunging, panting, and writhing, he pumped her full of semen.
When he came home from work next day, Martinis were ready, steaks were just going into the oven, and his wife greeted him with her breasts burgeoning high and liquid and sexy above the low neck of the lavender blouse. Only the old Merry Widow could lift them that way, he knew, and he grinned.
Later, messing around happily on the couch in the living room she gave his cock a squeeze that was a bit too much.
"Here, wench, watch that! Treat me that rough again and I'll be forced to take you up and tie you to the bed and rape you blind, black, and blue."
"Oh?" Her mouth was round and so were her eyes.
He shoved his hand into her bodice. "Yeah."
"Oh," she said, and gave his cock a hard squeeze. It leaped. So did Bill Martin's heart. He stared at her. She smiled lazily, and looked down. "Do it to me," she murmured.
Bill and Win didn't know it, but those were the same words that Victoria Chambliss, standing at Doc Driessen's door, had just said to him.
