enovel Sex Is The Name P. Nutbutter [Future Story Codes]

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Sex Is The Name ....(99k)    by P. Nutbutter

CHAPTER ONE

The night before I got the phone call that wound me up down at Cape Kennedy doing more blasting off than Apollo 14, I was celebrating. With Pat. We celebrated in bed.

It was late December, 1970, and I had just made my mark in the real estate business. I sold the Ringer man property on South Market Street. Three thousand bucks commission. I sure needed it. I hadn't made a sale all month and the rent and the car payment were both due. Also the car insurance, and the important part: there was only one beer left in the refrigerator.

After a brief stop at the package store, I went straight home to call up Pat to tome celebrate with me.

"Good evening madam," I said when she answered. "This is the Kinsey Institute calling, Doctor Michael Milford here. We need your help with our important scientific research. Please tell us how long it's been since you had any."

She smothered her giggle. "If I do, Doctor Milford, you won't like it!"

God, I thought, what a voice. Reminded a guy of things like pillows and sheets and squeaking springs and aromatic candles and the smell of come.

"Sorry Pat," I said, "I won't ask. Listen, I made one hell of a sale today, and I'm loaded."

"Your speech doesn't sound too slurred."

"I mean loaded with bread," I told her. "The other part comes later. Want to join me in an expensive dinner someplace?"

"I'm sorry, I do not accept dinner dates for the same evening. However, I will make an exception in the interests of the Kinsey Institute. And congratulations. When are you coming by?"

We agreed on that, and I hung up and got ready.

A little later, over an expensive dinner and some drinks, I told her about the Ringerman sale. She was impressed. Also beautiful. One of those tiny bouncy girls, like a doll. And dolls are to be undressed.

After we'd eaten and had a brandy I suggested dancing.

"Where?"

"The Glade?"

"All they have on weeknights is a jukebox, Michael me lad, and I don't dig their choice of records."

"Hm. Porter's?"

"Remember what you said about their drinks, last time?"

I did, and suggested a drive-in movie, just for fun.

"You kidding? Remember last time?" She cocked her short-haired head at me. "Wow, boy, you nearly broke your leg. And not in THIS dress!"

I already knew the answer to that one. I said, "Yeah, but you're playing so hard to please I'm trying to think of something."

"Mike Milford, I am not hard to please. I have never been hard to please. Just stop horsing around and tell me what you want to do."

"OK, baby," I said, imitating Bogart and staring her straight in those big brown eyes, "what I want to do is get all that fine Pat-flesh over to my apartment and whomp up a batch of Martinis or something and play some music and--"

She prompted: "And?"

"And ball hell out of you."

She sighed. "Will you please now tell me why you suggested all that other stuff?"

"Well, just saying 'Hey come onna my house and let's screw' didn't sound too gentlemanly."

She smiled. "Mike, you should know by now that I couldn't care less about gentlemanly behavior. Save it for ladies. If you'd suggested that a long time ago instead of all that bush-beating, we'd be there by now. But I don't feel Martini-ish. Got any frozen lemonade?"

"God no."

"Hm. Rum?"

"Yeah. Also beer, gin, beer, bourbon, beer, and Sc-"

"And more beer. OK. Let's go, and let me stop off at my place for a minute, OK?"

"Right," I said, and we got up. Since I hadn't been paid all that marvy commission yet, I paid for dinner by Bankamericard.

We went to her apartment, after a brief kiss in the car in the parking lot, sort of a promise. I said "You're not wearing a bra, are you?"

She lifted her chin. "Nope."

I lifted my fist. "Right on, and put one on."

"Lord, why?"

"So I can take it off."

She smiled and leaned over to kiss me again. "OK,'" she said. "And pants, and a garter belt, and hose, and hair clips, too. And an old blouse and skirt. I'll change fast, right now."

I nodded. This was a celebration, mine, and I was going to get my jollies. Also, she was going to get hers. I knew why she'd said old clothes, and emphasized the "old," but I. was supposed to ask. I asked.

She jutted her lower lip. "So you can tear 'em off," she said from deep in her throat, and she got out of the car and ran up the steps to her place. I sat there and waited, grinning. But . . . lemonade? She returned with a big pasteboard box, an osterizer and two cans of frozen lemonade. We got her and the box into the car and I said, "You didn't have to bring all that."

She laughed, pushing in the cigaret lighter. "Yes I did. Not in the Martini mood, and you know I don't dig beer. My frozen lemonade and your rum and a lot of ice in the Osterizer and BZZZZZT! Frozen daugiris. Good." She gave. me an arch look just as I stopped for a red light. "How do you like my old blouse?" She opened her coat, thrusting her tits at me.

"Looks old," I said, glancing at her. It was white cotton, with buttons down the front. It wasn't frayed or yellow, but it obviously wasn't new either, not with that collar. Nor was the swishy multicolored skirt. Remembering why she was wearing them, I felt a zing and then a definite tightening in the balls as my cock expressed an opinion.

I drove a little faster.

Pat was ninety-three pounds of bouncy blonde with dark eyes and dark pussy fur and a pair of breasts like brand-new softballs. Stripping her roughly, was a delight. To both of us. So I drove fast.

At my apartment, she went straight to the kitchen and put down the box. Turning, she came warm and clingy into my arms. Pat was very short, nearly a foot shorter than I am. I'm not quite six feet. When we kissed I always had the impression she was trying to climb right up me. I guess she was, for the most part.

It was a soft warm kiss that got warmer and less soft. Her hands were warm, too, cupping the back of my neck. Her tautly swollen brassiere tried to gouge a couple of holes into my gut. When she lifted her feet, I had to straighten a little to keep from falling forward. She wrapped her legs around my left one and rode it, kissing me and rubbing her cunt against my upper thigh. I could feel the firmness of her bulging love mound through our clothes. My balls did some more tightening.

"Oh wow," she murmured. "Who needs daquiris?"

"I don't," I said, kissing her neck. "Later, hm?"

"Um-huh. I'm so happy. I had a good chunk of steak and good brandy and this is good and you called me to celebrate and I'm wearing all sorts of underclothes and this old blouse and skirt-and I dig you!"

"You mention that old blouse and skirt one more time," I said, squeezing her so she could feel the stiffness of my cock through both our clothing, "and you're going to lose them."

"Really? Promise? Just one more mention?"

I nodded, grimfaced.

I heard two clunks, then she dropped her feet to the floor. I let go of her and she strode from the kitchen with that funny little-woman's gait of hers. I gazed after her, watching her hips switch back and forth, the full skirt spinning and swishing about her legs. I looked down. The twin clunking sounds had been her shoes, on the floor at my feet. She paused in my bedroom doorway.

"Minute," she said. "Rest. Light a cigaret or something."

I nodded, checked the music and the latch on the front door, and went back to the kitchen to collect her shoes. When I went into the bedroom she was standing by the bed with her hands behind her back. She had snapped off the overhead light. Only the fat candle flickered, that and the light filtering in from the half-open bathroom door.

"Mike?"

"Hm?"

"Old skirt and blouse," Pat enunciated clearly.

I looked at the small, short-haired woman a moment, delighting in her words and feeling myself aroused by them, and her expectant smile. She wanted to play the rough game. I beckoned silently. She came, a small bouncy girl in a blouse and skirt ready for the discard pile. She kept her hands behind her, swinging her shoulders as she approached. She stopped two feet away and looked at me, meeting my eyes steadily with hers. The front of her blouse quivered with her excited breathing. Her nostrils flared. Playing it the way she wanted, I reached out and grabbed her by both upper arms and pulled her hard against me. I kissed her, hard, and sent my tongue rushing into her mouth. I whipped it about, hard. My hands moved over her back, enjoying her warm slenderness through the blouse. And the feel of her firm tits against me.

Her hands roamed my back in the same way. Mine dipped lower, moving over the just-as-warm flesh pushing out her skirt in back. It was far rounder. She was pressing herself tightly against me, sucking at my tongue. I began to walk, and she moved with me, as though we were dancing.

The backs of her legs coming up against my bed stopped her. I leaned forward and kept on leaning until she fell backward onto the bed. I fell atop her. Kissing her some more, I moved my hands roughly over the two up-thrusting surges in the front of her blouse. Hers weren't the biggest tits in the world, but they were firm as an erect cock.

Moving my hands down to her hips, I turned her, with her willing cooperation, onto her stomach. I had already noted that the skirt's zipper was in back. I opened the catch and drew down the zipper.

"I don't think the skirt will tear," I said quietly.

She shook her head against the sheet, lying flat on her stomach with her arms bent so that her hands were beside her head. I slid a hand under her, cupping the slight swell of her belly as I lifted her. Stripping the skirt from her, I dropped it on the floor. I caressed her buttocks, very firm round ones, encased in nylon briefs of transparent pink, and I slapped them lightly, listening to her little sounds of pleasure. She shivered, enjoying the helpless, manipulated feeling.

Then I turned her again onto her back and kissed her breasts, one by one, through the blouse. Her hands moved down over my-hips.

"Put your arms at your sides," I said.

She obeyed with alacrity. Her eyes glittered.

I bent to kiss her, my hand stroking the almost hardness of her mound through the skimpy panties. She began to writhe her ass over the bed. Then I placed my other hand over her left breast and hooked my right in the collar of her blouse. I pulled.

Her eyes were bright with delighted excitement. But she winced as her body tried to come up with the blouse, crushing her breast into my hand. Then the top button tore loose from its moorings, remaining in the buttonhole. She gasped. And then the button below that gave up, and the next one and the next and I yanked the blouse free of its bottom button. She moaned, but definitely not in pain.

People should keep old clothes around, for fun. Probably do married couples a lot of good, unless she's one of those odd women who never like a little pretense of roughness.

I squinted in the dimness. The bra was transparent, without boning or padding. It was barely visible in the darkened room, because it was flesh-colored, if anything. Her nipples and their halos were dark spots beneath the fabric. I touched that darkness at the tip of one breast with a fingertip, pushing. She moved her shoulders and her mouth came open as her eyes closed.

Lifting my finger from the dented fabric and flesh beneath, I leaned over and kissed each breast again, through the nothing bra.

Turning her onto her side so I could get at the bra's hooks in the center of her back, I slapped her tight little buttocks again.

I released the bra, turned her back, and pushed the limp brassiere up over her breasts. I bent my head over them. Her hand came up immediately, onto the back of my neck.

I kissed her left nipple long and slowly, moving my lips, taking the hardening little morsel of flesh into my mouth and letting her feel my teeth and tongue. I heard her moan again. Replacing my mouth with my hand, I moved my head to give her other hard little tit equal treatment.

Her hand, on the back of my neck, pulled me down harder, onto her so that my face and her breast were crushed together. At the same time she was twisting her body to move the breast into my mouth, grinding it up to me. And she moaned again. Her other hand was between us, plucking at the buttons of my shirt.

I raised my head and waited, looking down at her, while she unbuttoned my shirt and opened my trousers and pulled down the zipper. Her eyes were hooded, her mouth ajar. I pushed back from her and stood long enough to whip off the shirt and drop my pants and kick them away.

Then I got my shorts off, watching her as she stared at the bouncing emergence of my cock. She lay there looking up at rte, naked now except for her panties. Although they were more for advertisement and luxury than for covering her, they were just a barrier, now. Just another wisp of cloth marring her lovely nakedness.

I bent over her to place my hands on her hips. Her hand trailed up my thigh, then moved inward to grasp my penis. Her fingers circled it and she squeezed. This time it was I who gasped. I put a knee onto the bed and sank slowly down beside her, molding and fondling one bare breast. Then I let that band trail down over her quivering belly.

Raising my head, I propped myself on one elbow beside her. I kissed her, moving one hand over her breasts, down onto her belly, down to the tops of her panties, into them and the warmth they held. I could feel her breath, panting a little now, into my mouth. I hardened my kiss, moving my head to grind her mouth with mine. My fingers slid down onto the furry, thrusting mound of her cunt, and she jerked and grunted.

My hands dragged at her panties. I drew them down. She raised her knees, and I slid the flimsy nylon down her calves and chucked it away behind me. My hand returned to the silky-furred heat of her cunt.

She wiggled her backside, edging down to nuzzle my navel and belly with her lips. I put a hand on her head and pushed it down. I gasped, feeling her warm breath on the head of my cock, then the gentle touch of her tongue, and finally her lips. Tongue and lips moved over my cock, now erect and throbbing. Ready. More than ready. But I waited.

She came up slowly, without moving her mouth from me, and began turning around on the bed. I stopped her long enough to lean in and press a firm kiss on her vulva. Then I sank onto the bed, and she moved until she was kneeling with her bare ass in my face, her mouth still loving my prick.

With one hand I caressed her soft white buttocks. With the other I reached under to stroke and press one down swinging breast. I wrapped my fingers around it and squeezed, moving my hand in a gentle milking motion, urging the blood into the tip. Not necessary; the nipple was already engorged and swollen, stretching.

Sliding a finger between her buttocks, into the soft warm groove there, I moved it in a tickling motion I knew did not tickle. Now her lips encased a couple of inches of hard cock. Her tongue flicked in and out to touch the hot tip of it as one hand stroked the inside of my thigh. I wasn't wild about that; it tickled.

My hand, between her small, round ass cheeks, slid down and under to caress the soft lips of her cunt. Parting the hair, I probed gently with one finger between lips as sweet as those caressing my penis. Her body was moving; now, hips swaying from side to side and, just a little, up and down. Under her my hand rose to find her tight little clitoris. I squeezed it, making her groan. Then I stroked it and strummed it, sending sensuality licking into her.

Her head bobbed over my cock, taking in more of it now as I tickled at her clit. She gasped Her movements began to become more feverish. So did mine, as I felt the heated wet sheath of her mouth running up and down the length of my cock. We reached the point at which we could hardly concentrate on each other, so feverish were the sensations of our own bodies.

Then she paused, shuddering. She whimpered and moaned as her explosion came and rocked her body and lifted her hotly from me and shook her before letting her down again, slowly. I felt the trickle of her cunt's hot juices on the finger I slipped in again, between her labia. Her clitoris no longer needed attention. Slowly, I began gliding in and out, finger fucking her, feeling the last of her orgasmic contractions.

Gasping, she returned her mouth to me, softly licking up and down my upward-spearing cock. I lay back, fondling and caressing and squeezing the two round halves of her ass until my movements became as frenetic as hers had been. I was as still as I could bring myself to be, not fucking her face but letting her suck me instead.

She paused, turned to look at me along the length of her body.

"You want me to end it this way?"

I slapped her ass. "No," I said, remembering what I had forgotten. The old-clothes idea had been her idea. She wanted it to be rough tonight. She certainly hadn't had much of it, although she was not what is called a masochist. She just got wet from reading things like the rape scenes in Ayn Rand's books.

"No, bitch," I said, "I want you like the bitch you are."

That turned her on, making her shiver in delight and anticipation. She gazed back at me with glittering eyes. She'd had an orgasm, but that didn't interfere with her lust or her desire to have it in her and to be fucked.

I struggled up, got onto my side, and flopped her over onto hers. With my hands on her buttocks, I moved up behind her until I could feel the caress of the flesh of those soft cheeks on the crown of my cock. I pushed forward, between the lower curves of those cheeks. She trembled liking it, pushing her ass back at me. like a bitch in heat, and I told her that. She trembled again; she liked to hear it.

Then the tip of my throbbing prick found the wet mouth of her cant, making both of us jerk and quiver at the hot contact. In one swift movement I had plunged into the slippery warmth. I jerked my hips as I, speared forward, so that my prick was slipping and sliding as it dug its way deeper into her hot, wet pussy. I withdrew and pushed swiftly back, to assure myself that we were both slick enough to have no trouble at all.

We were slick enough. There'd be no trouble. Her glans were working overtime, juicing her interior, and whatever glans I have weren't even necessary after all the attention she had given my cock with her mouth. I began fucking swiftly in and out of her, from behind, slapping her buttocks with my groin and hips. It's a lovely sound; so is the sound of two people gasping as they fuck.

She lay on her side on my bed, jerking and shuddering in delight as my body pumme!ed her ass again and again. Wave after wave of hot-pleasure flooded through us as my powerful shaft bored steadily into her open, sticky cunt, slipping in through the cushions of her buttocks. My hand slid around her to clutch and squeeze and rub, rhythmically, her bobbing tits.

Panting, she thrust herself back, concentrating with all her mind and body, I knew, on enveloping every inch of hot cock into her body. The soft, deeply pink lips of her cunt clutched at me like raw red fingers. Within, she flowered to suck me in past the grip of those grasping lips. I thrust hard, and drew far, and thrust back again.

My sudden sharp intake of air in her ear followed by my grunting cry must have told her I was reaching the end of the road, jabbing at her with driving strokes that plunged me all the way home. Swaying her hips in a fierce tempo dictated by my own driving force, she let her mouth drop open. Her belly was straining, tightening. It had happened before, and I was again delighted: after that first orgasm she sometimes had another without more than the faintest of clitoral contact.

She was reaching the same destination as I was, and we were going to get there at about the same time. Moving faster and harder, I ran it in and out of her. Deeper and deeper I impaled her intensely hot pussy, tunnelling relentlessly in, very easily now, tightening my buttocks to hurl myself into her. I knew my eyes were bulging and glassy. I was panting, feeling that familiar tight-balled, almost painful sensation that's a prelude to blastoff. I was building steadily, seething, toward a climax I knew would be volcanic.

The long hardness of my cock vanished deep, deep within her. It drove in shattering, slapping lunges that made us both grunt and squirm. And then I was pouring jets of hot semen into her, groaning and clutching her ass, and she was grinding it back against me to impale herself to the hilt and get it all, every drop. I made sure she got it all.

I fell off then, and awoke a few minutes later to the sound of a loud buzzing. I eased off the bed and went naked to the kitchen to find Pat presiding over her frozen daquiris. She wore only an apron and a smile. The osterizer's contents frothed up excitedly. About like I was beginning to feel inside again, looking at that naked girl sexily draped in an apron.

"Got two glasses in the fridge, lover?"

I shook my head. She shook hers back, giving me a mock-disgusted look. "You," she told me, "are one hell of a bartenders" And she brought two glasses from the cabinet and bowed, both bare tits bouncing. "You pour."

I poured. The ice cubes were totally destroyed, ground and swirled into a semi-frozen state. Slush I thought, and tasted it. It was the best slush I'd ever tasted, and I tried to think of a better word. Rumand-lemonade-flavored snow cream, that was it. like the stuff you make when you're a kid, scooping up snow in a bowl and adding milk and vanilla and sugar and stirring and stirring, then eating it with your teeth hurting and your jaws aching, it's so cold.

"These things are dangerous," I told her, regarding my half-empty glass. "like Margaritas or screwdrivers. Slide right down and sneak around behind you and kick you in the ass. At least I guess it's going to creep up on me."

She nodded. "Oh yes. I love 'em. Every bachelor should have an Osterizer. Serve these to a keep away-type girl and they go down easy and she's heehee happy before she knows it. Easy lay." She smiled, dimples like deep fingerprints in her cheeks. She raised her glass and lowered it empty. "Oooh, that's cold." She rubbed her stomach, what there was of it, and waited with an expectant look. Then she smiled again, rolling her eyes.

"Ahhhh! There it is, Mike! Now I'm getting warm! Cold ice and hot rum in the belly, that's for me." She held out her glass.

I emptied mine and refilled them both. She sipped, making big eyes at me over the glass, and then suddenly spun around. The apron stood out from her hips, showing me her soft pubis between the tops of her slender legs with their round calves. She stopped suddenly, looking down at the floor and making a naughty little-girl face. "Oh boy. I got so carried away I spilled some. Seems a shame to waste it. Can I lick it up?"

I shook my head with a little smile. "Save your tongue for me," I said. What a girl! She bounced from one thing to another like Alice, rushing about from adventure to adventure in Wonderland.

She sobered. "Am I being too silly?"

I shook my head.

"Good. I'm happy. Here." She poured my glass full and emptied the pitcher into hers, slapping its bottom to watch the last drop plop into her glass. The drinks were liquid now, not slush. And we were warm, both of us.

We poured them down, looking at each other.

Then we balled again, on the floor in the hallway. We lay there playing, kissing and caressing and twining, and then she rolled over onto her face and I knelt between her legs. Fitting my hands under her body at the waist, I pulled herup until she was on elbows and knees. Her head lay on the throw rug. Her buttocks, like great white eggs, were high in the air, vulnerable and gleaming and lovely.

Just behind her, I inched closer, on my knees, with my hands on her hips. She reached back between her thighs and I jerked when her fingers took my cockhead. She guided it forward into the heated damp of her cunt, a ring of softly pulsating muscle. I watched the swollen shaft of my prick as it began to vanish into her cunt. She swayed, sighing and arching her back a little. She expeled a long, sighing breath when my groin was tight up against the upraised cheeks of her ass.

Kneeling there behind her, I took my time, easing it in and out of her in long slow glides. I clung to her hips, skewering the full length of cock into her slowly and methodically so that the sensitive shaft felt every inch of her clasping cunt. After awhile she curled her arm back again, under her, this time to play with her clitoris.

She began writhing sinuously, squeezing me within her seething wet vagina. Then she was coming around my cock. I began punching hard in and out of her from behind, like a rutting dog. I watched the whole area of her hips and tight-clenched ass, bobbing up and down without control, plunging and thrusting back against me.

She reached the peak of her climax in a gasping, quivering, blinding intensity just as I exploded a torrent of semen into her clenching tubes.

CHAPTER TWO

The following morning proved that I hadn't had just a lucky day. This was my lucky week. When I called the realty office next morning ten minutes after I awoke-eleven a.m.-our receptionist laughed. "I'll bet you're not coming in today."

"I'll bet I'm not either."

"Celebrate last night, Mike?"

"My head seems to think I did, yes." Actually I felt great.

She laughed. "Good. No celebration's a success without a headache next morning. No one expects you in, Mike, after that sale yesterday. Go back to sleep."

I hung up and started to do just that, and the phone rang. I answered, had to play a guessing game-which I flunked-and learned that it was Dave, a guy I'd gone to school with. Hadn't seen him in years, or heard from him either. He'd been editor of the school paper. All I knew was that he had some sort of writing job down at Cape Kennedy, writing stuff for NASA. Those quicky SpaceNotes you hear on the radio, maybe. I don't know.

Anyhow, he'd just happened to think of me, lord knows why, and he wanted to invite me down for the Apollo 14 launch. If I could get myself accredited as a reporter of some sort, I should be able to deduct the trip's expenses, not to mention get into the Press Box. He already had houseguests, but there was an inexpensive motel nearby. Come on Friday, he said. (The Apollo 14 launch was scheduled for Sunday, January 31.)

I had just got three thou commission and here was a great-sounding weekend knocking. on my door! I didn't even think about it. I just had him tell me what to do. Simple. All I had to have was a letter from a newspaper or something. Then he told me where to have them write and get me a Press pass-which would get me into the Press grandstand. Closer to the liftoff site than Spiro and Prince Juan Carlos, which would be a one-upping groove!

All right. Make it short. The buyer of the Ringerman property was the son of the local newspaper editor. I called him and got taken care of. Daddy wrote to NASA in Washington. Wow, I thought, NASAL Shepard and poor dead Grissom and poor broke-leg Glenn and Jack-I mean, Neil Armstrong, all-American boy on the moon. Kennedy Space Center and Merritt Island and Cocoa Beach and maybe I'd even find a little nookie down there.

Little did I know! Ten days later I got the letter from Washington. I was an accredited correspondent to cover the launch. It was that easy-and that's how the whole wild scene started. like balling the French chick Kystele that afternoon, and Sara in the VW bus a few minutes after the launch, and Bob and me in the sack with Kate and Joretta and Maggie, and-but I'd better take it step by step.

It was windy and coldthe day I left Chicago. It's cold everywhere on any given January 29th, isn't it? I peeled off my topcoat on the big Florida-bound jet. I'd never been to Florida, and I was as excited as a kid going to the zoo.

The temperature in Tampa was seventy-three. Damned near burning up in too much clothing, I got off the plane and had some dude take my picture standing beside a palm tree. It was the first one I'd ever seen.

The temperature at Me!bourne Airport was 71 degrees when I got off, and there was old Dave from college, standing there grinning at me. He and his hair and his clothes were very, very straight-but there was nothing straight about the girl standing there beside him. She had enough long red hair for her and two other girls, and a bod that looked like it had been put together from the best parts of those two other girls. She was wearing a dress that was barely enough for her, though, much less two others. You don't see many open-work crochet dresses in Chicago. Especially not in January. Especially not without a bra. Unless the wearers don't have tits. This girl did. Two of them, definitely.

Her name was Joretta, which I liked because it was different. Her shiny white boots came just to her knees, and there was a lot of Joretta between those boot-tops and the hem of her dress. Oh yeah-she was pretty. Dave introduced us: Mike, this is Joretta.

Joretta, Mike, my old buddy. She and I shook hands, and she definitely gave me a Look and she had a definitely sexy voice. The bulges of her breasts and their pale flesh sort of squeezing out through the open-work dress just added to the sudden tightness in my crotch.

We collected my clothes, which were all there, thank God. I've got a friend who flew from Chicago to LA once, and his clothes went on to Hawaii. A week later, just as he left LA, his clothes showed up. About three days later they found him at last-home in Chicago. Great stuff.

Dave's car was one of those sexy little bombs, low and red with a tach and assorted other stuff junking up the dash, and an owner's manual printed in several languages. I figured this was the answer to his old-looking, straight clothes: he was laying out all his money in car payments!

Dave got in behind the wheel while Joretta slid in to ride the gearstick. I crawled in: It wouldn't have been so crowded if she hadn't been wearing that crocheted dress!

Dave already had more houseguests than he'd bargained for. Four guys from St Louis, all in his two room apartment, and one of those cats was big enough for two. I would stay at a motel a few blocks away, which, Joretta breathed, was a shame. (She never talked. She breathed her words, all of them, like Robert Stack-but very female.) Anyhow, I had an idea she thought I should have been staying at this place free, rather than the St Louie gang.

"A motel room right near your place is swell," I said. "I'll be happy there, bet on it."

Right then I was mostly sweaty. I was wearing way too much clothes for Florida. Also my left thigh was picking up a lot of heat from Joretta's right one, from waist to knee. Mercifully, her arm was between me and her well-displayed tits, and I was carefully looking no further down than her pretty chin anyhow. I asked the name of the motel.

"The Ping Pong," Dave said.

I smiled. Surely I'd heard him wrong! The what?"

Joretta laughed. Dave didn't. "The Ping Pong," he said, and that time I knew I'd heard him right. He'd said that, all right, and you know what it reminded me of, right away. "It isn't the finest in town, Mike, but it's close to my place."

"Marvy," I said. "The poontang," I thought, looking out the window at all those funny trees and plants they grow down in Florida. And the funny white ground, with scraggy grass growing bravely out of it. It looked like snow. I hadn't seen white sand before, sand so fine and soft it's like dust with Clorox poured over it. "The Poontang motel," I muttered.

Joretta chuckled and Dave didn't. That told me what I wanted to know, and I sat even closer to her than necessary. She hung right in there.

We drove into Merritt Island, and Dave showed me his place and offered a beer. I told him first I wanted a shower, and we went on to the motel, with him showing me how close it was. Smallish place, with a big multicolor sign: The Ping Pong Motel. We got me checked into Room 16, and Dave said he'd come back for me in thirty minutes, and Joretta pointed out that they'd left her car outside earlier. She'd wait and bring me over. Dave was shock about her waiting while I showered. I said I'd walk.

Joretta, sighed, rolled those nice blue eyes, and looked at me. She reminded Dave that he needed to get back and make sure those four Missourians weren't eating him out of house and home. No need for me to walk, and no need for him to come back for me. Before he or I could say anything, she walked over to the door.

"I'll read a magazine in the lobby," she said. "Just come on up there when you're ready, Mike." And she left.

Dave looked at me helplessly.

"Your girl's got a mind of her own, buddy," I smiled.

"She always gets her way-hey wait, she's my SISTER, Mike."

"Your sis-you told me back in school that her name was Jobo."

"She made me stop calling her that baby-name. And she isn't my girl, Mike. I'm not even too crazy about her. My baby sister."

"Oh." All I could think of to say was, "You two sure don't look much a-like. You don't LOOK sibling, Dave."

"Thank God," he said, as if she weren't a raving tearing temptress. "Well-see you later Mike-when Miss Femlib brings you over." He left.

I went up to the lobby for a Coke before I unpacked. Joretta was there, reading TODAY ("Florida's Space Age Newspaper"), and showing about a yard of good leg-beginning with her left hind cheek. She looked up.

"Mighty fast," she said, smiling. "You don't look much cooler."

"I need something to drink, first."

"I'll get you a beer, Mike. Give me your key."

I hesitated, but she had her hand out, wiggling the fingers. Miss Femlib, Dave called her. Always got her way. I had a brief mental vision of her giving me a swift demonstration of Karate, my knowledge of which is limited to having seen the "Flint" movies three times each. I gave her my motel key on its little plastic thing. She smiled, squeezed her hand shut around it, and left the lobby. Bouncing.

I told the clerk I had just locked my key in my room. I got another one-along with a funny look. A few minutes later I had unpacked the more wrinkly stuff and was enjoying a fine Florida shower. The water sme!led different, tasted different, and felt different from Chicago's-if you can call that water. We used to have some lakes up around Chicago, they tell me.

Without having heard a thing but running water, I came out of the shower and put on my shave coat. I'd bought it because it was black and silver and looked like James Bond's nightshirt. Hits me just below the balls. I was tying the sash when I walked out of the bathroom, I had to get something on, I thought, before Miss Femlib got back with the brew. This .short robe wasn't exactly the sort of thing you greeted your ole buddy's sister in, even if she did wear a dress that looked like it had been hit by buckshot.

"Hey now, that's the sexiest thing I've seen all month," Joretta said as I walked out of the bathroom.

"Uh, hi," I said, greeting my old buddy's sister. Smiling brightly, she was sitting in the straight chair beside the door. There was a little brown bag at her feet. My first reaction was to head back for the bathroom. My second one was to walk over and get a beer, and to hell whether she saw a little bouncing balls or not. That's what I did.

She bent over to snap a fliptop cap. I hadn't seen her bend before. When a dress has a round top, it isn't quite as interesting when a girl isn't wearing one of those helpful pushup bras. When she bends over though, it's twice as interesting. She looked up to see me staring.

"Well," she smiled, "I guess we're about even. A peep for you and one for me. OK if I straighten up now?" She did, grinning, and held out the beer. All of a sudden that damned "robe" seemed about waist length, rather than every bit as long as a pair of swim trunks. (The difference is that with trunks you've got the security of cloth on your nuts-and it isn't drafty.) Moving carefully, I accepted the cold beer.

"Thanks, Bunny Joretta," I said, and drank. "Um. Nothing like a cold--"

"That sexy shave coat sure hikes up when you raise an arm to drink," she interrupted. "Maybe I better stand up." She did. "Here," she added, and took the can out of my hand. She downed a goodly swig and handed it back.

"Did you get just one can, woman?"

"God, man, it's a pint, what do you want from a slave?" But she shook her head. "No, there are five more in the bag."

"Good," I said, trying not to raise my arm as I drank another long swallow.

There are two kinds of Direct Approach. One is the kind you read about and see in movies. The guy either grabs or says something very much like "Let's ball" and they do. I've found that it hardly ever works in real life, though. More-likely she screams or belts you one. But then there's my version. When you have some indication that a chick swings, like I had with Joretta, you say something that she can either take seriously or that you can both pretend was a joke. That's what I did then, peering at her across the top of my beer. Our beer.

"What more do I want? A Chamber of Commerce, welcome-to-Florida kiss, naturally."

She cocked her head. "From the Chamber of Commerce?"

"You the president?"

She thought about that, and threw me a curve-not one of hers. "Here," she said, "give me a bite of that." And she, plucked the can from my fingers and tilted it up again. My eyes dropped.

"That dress sure hikes up when you raise an arm to drink," I said, deliberately echoing her. She lowered the can with an "aaaah." And nodded, smiling. "Yeah, doesn't it. Here, your turn to drink and mine to ogle. Polish it off. I notice you put it down like a beer lover."

I am. I did. When I lowered my arm, she was making sure I saw her eyes coming up from the hem of my abbreviated robe. Then she sank down in a sort of squat beside the chair. She brought another cold can out of the brown bag. I stood there wondering how Julius Caesar handled sitting down in his tunic. Roman women must've seen so many balls they didn't pay any attention. Still squatting, she twisted her head, looked pointedly at the bottom of my shavecoat, and grinned into my eyes.

"You trying to embarrass me, Joretta, or lay me?" I hoped that one would finally, blow her cool. I was tired of the game.

"You don't expect me to answer that, do you?" she asked, standing up with the second beer. She popped the cap, drank, and passed it over.

I set it on the desk. "No," I told her. "I expect you either to respond or get the hell out of my room while I dress."

Then I pulled her to me, not roughly but with plenty of firmness, and kissed her. Now the fleshy globes of her tits, straining against the see-through dress, were straining against me. After a few seconds, her lips came unhinged. I slid my tongue inside and we spent the next several minutes playing with each other's tongues and sipping saliva.

"I'm damned tired of being looked at like just another male sex object," I said, almost into her mouth. She chuckled. "I'm used to it-I'm a go-go dancer," she said, with a quick wiggle that stirred the hem of my robe.

My hands wandered down and onto the jutting round shelf at the back of her dress, formed by a very luscious set of buttocks. I returned my mouth to hers and her hands slid around me as we played the tongue game again. My hands slid around and up and down, and her dress slid easily over her nylon panties. "Here-easy, Mike baby! What's coming off here?"

"Your dress," I told her.

"Oh wow, listen--"

"You've been teasing, Joretta," I said, sliding my hands from her and taking a step backward. She looked surprised. "Now either get out of here and remember that I'm on to you, or--"

She sighed, cocked her head to look sadly at me. "Damn you! I had a yen for you the minute you got off that damned plane, and you knew it, didn't you?"

I didn't say anything. I had said it. Now I just stared.

She sighed again. "You better not be like my brother," she muttered. "Well, welcome to Florida, Mike Milford."

Then she reached down and grasped the hem of her minidress and pulled it straight up. And up some more. I was still goggling at the way her red-furred mound showed right through her sheer white briefs when she showed me the cutest little twisted-up navel I ever saw. Then the dress caught on her big jugs, and she pulled, and her breasts bounced up and then down and then back up again as the dress let go to shoot upward-and off.

She smiled at me, and I swear she looked almost shy. Her breasts hadn't settled down yet. They were round, with very pale aureoles and small peaceful-looking nipples. She stood there half-smiling, looking very luscious and not quite comfortable wearing nothing but her, boots and a lot of flaming hair and those little white briefs with her bush peeking through.

I picked up the beer and took a step to hand it to her. "Drink up," I said, "and I'll welcome you to Florida."

She took the beer and I took one firm naked tit in each hand. She shivered, drank half-heartedy, and set the can down. I let go one hard breast and recaptured the can. I started to drink, but then suddenly I felt very impolite.

Surely it is impolite to stand around drinking beer while holding a tit-and with someone squeezing your cock in a small warm hand.

The beer was gone, anyhow. I slung the empty can over my shoulder and fortunately it hit the rug without a lot of noise. I palmed both her tits and studied her face. She looked different. She didn't look like a cute chick in a sexy dress any more, or like Dave's "baby" sister. She looked like a sexy girl with a sexy body and sexy eyes and sex on her mind. And she still had her hand wrapped around my throbbing bone. Her hand was very warm. So was her mouth; when I kissed her while pulling open the sash of my shavecoat. So were her tits, when it fell open and they nuzzled my chest. And my prick was warm, too. She was already breathing fast. God, I thought, this is a sexy woman. She doesn't want lovemaking-she wants to fuck.

While I was stroking her thicket of Titian pubic hair through her panties, she was writhing and breathing hard and her tits were swinging and jiggling. I reached over and jerked the bedspread and sheet down in one motion, pillows and all, baring the crisp white undersheet of my motel bed. Then I applied my hands to the symmetrical perfection of her naked breasts. She gasped and seemed to go limp, without falling.

I raised them, dragging them upward to strain and stretch their soft undercurves as I propelled her backward. Her eyes rolled up and she hunched her shoulders. Both my lust and my bare cock surged powerfully. I glanced and saw that I had a throbbing erection worth bragging about.

My hands had risen higher than her tits would. Stretched snowy white, they suddenly jumped from under my palms and bounced around again. I saw that the nipples had grown. She was undulating, wiggling, rubbing me with herself while I slid my hands down to caress her hips above her panties. She tensed, waiting, and I slid the panties down to undress her beautiful red bush.

I took my hands away from her just long enough to get out of my short robe and let it drop to the floor. Then I eased her back until the backs of her knees hit the bed and she had to sit down, suddenly.

She lay back on it, sprawling languorously on her back. Smiling at me from beneath lowered lashes, she stretched out her arms and twitched her hips invitingly. They were very twitchable hips. Miss Femlib, huh? All I'd seen was that she liked having things her own way. And what she wanted was what I wanted.

I went to her quickly, my penis bobbing before me like a red standard. Penis, hell-a penis is a rumply worm you piss with. What I had then was a sincere and monumental erection, and that is a cock.

She threw her legs apart as I mounted the bed. I moved swiftly between those wideswept thighs, admiring the nest of rich red fur that nestled at the apex of her gleaming white legs. She reached up and pulled my head down onto one of her tits. I closed my mouth over its pink crest and she shuddered. I sucked. Her eyes closed. Her head fell back on the bed, her face a tense mask of inflamed passion. Her mouth opened and I heard her gasping breaths. My hand fondled one breast in little circular caresses while my tongue laved the other with soft kisses.

I let my hands roam, increasing her passion by the light movements of my fingers over her and bringing a gasp-quivering response from her. My fingers kneaded and caressed, slid over the plump curves of her hips, feathered along her belly, a hint of roundness in the cradle of her hips. I pressured the soft slopes of each ivory thigh. Her hand moved between us, exploring.

And then the titsy darling was playing with my cock. Her body was writhing, urging me on. Moans dribbled from her mouth. A shudder rippled through her as my hands slipped farther, kneading the firm flesh of her thighs into quivering response.

My fingers moved into the bulge of her red-bushed vulva, and even the gentle touch forced 'a gurgle of pure passion from her throat. I stroked and pressed and ruffled the hair, and ran a finger up and down the slit of her pussy. Slowly, carefully, I eased it between the soft lips wreathing her vaginal tract. She gasped in a high voice and her hand squeezed my prick convulsively.

Opening her, I gave myself an inflammatory view of slippery, pulpy tissues like stuffed satin. She pressed her thighs closely together. then, in a sudden spasmodic jerk. Her own hands clutched at the firm round perfection of her tits, crushing the up surging mounds to her chest.

I didn't take her closed thighs as a denial. I grabbed that bulging, fleecy-mounded slit, and squeezed.

"A-aargggll-ll--" she gasped, hurling herself about wildly.

My fingers insistently sought to part the delicate curls that would soon be tickling up and down my prick. Drawing it out a little, I could see the dinging lips again, and on impulse I bent to plant a kiss on the pliant, hair lined labia. She screamed out a long sigh and jerked and trembled as though I'd lashed her with a whip rather than the tip of my tongue.

She tasted good. I tried another taste. Again her throat exploded little cries of emotion and intense arousal. Her thighs jerked apart, then snapped back. They dosed fleshily around my head and abruptly I heard nothing. Hungrily, boldly, my hand slid up under her to toy with the firm rounds of her butt. She sighed and gasped, her cunt vibrating with hot flashes as I let my tongue reach around inside her.

"Nnnn--aaanghhh! Oh-ah--me tool" she groaned, and she came scrambling around, curling her body to get her mouth at the chunk of lust-hardened meat spearing out from my groin.

She astonished me, then. She didn't lick my cock, or kiss it. She merely opened her mouth and lowered it, as far as possible along the shaft, as though intent and insistent on swallowing it. I groaned and shuddered. More than willing for that kind of treatment, I crushed my sweating groin into her face and ground my fingers into the side of her head. My eyes glowed as I rested my cheek on her thick, springy pubic fur and gazed down at the top of her wildly bobbing head. I could feel the force of my big shaft expanding in the slippery softness between her tongue and the roof of her mouth-and that busy wiggling tongue slithering over and over the bulging cockhead, covering it with spit and warmth and making it pound with engorgement and lust for her.

I pressed my mouth to the soft lips of her cunt again.

It was moist with her own inner fluids, now. My tongue crawled lazily over her mound and between its parting lips. There was that faint taste of salt, and the slippery, mucousy sensation of her fluids on my tongue. She shuddered and moaned. Her mouth was like a wet hungry cunt as her full, slippery-resilient lips clamped and slid titillatingly up and down my penile length.

Both of us were licking and sucking, sucking and licking, and both of us were making unashamed slurping noises. We were panting in mutual pleasure, our chins and genitals wet and running with a combination of saliva and perspiration and sexual juices.

She slid her mouth abruptly off my cock. She was jerking in passion and gasping in chaotic need.

"Get in me," she gasped, almost sobbing. She was tugging feverishly at my hips. "Hurry-fuck me . . . get in me!"

I moved swiftly over to get into her. There was no reason to consider whether she was ready for me or not-not after all the slurping I'd given her snatch and all the hot inner fluids she had let down! No need to open her either; the soft pink lips of her cunt hung ajar, coated with sticky fluid.

Our bodies came violently together. We moved as though by careful prearrangement and rehearsal, both of us lunging savagely at the same time. Feeling the head of my penis nose its way against the pliant pink labia of her cunt, she gave a great sharp thrust with her hips. And I was in.

Her wet envelope wrapped itself around my bulging meat in a hot grip. The firm sleek lips dung to the big root while she strove to swallow up the whole rigid length of it in the hole of her loins. Moans, emanating from deep in her throat, trickled from her open mouth. Her hands shot, up to grab my nipples between thumbs and. the knuckles of her forefingers. She squeezed and twisted.

"Uh! Ow . . . bitch! You sexy bitch!" I groaned.

I tried to knock the bottom out of her cunt. I was unsuccessful. She had room for me, and she was more than willing to accommodate every inch of length and breadth I shoved up her long inner channel. She lay there and grinned, bucking her steaming hole up to meet the incoming shaft every time I pumped it home. Her ass circled and jiggled beneath her.

We fucked like a couple of sex nuts who hadn't seen anyone of the opposite sex for a year. Everything we did was fast, feverish, sweaty. I jerked and hunched, slapping her creamy naked body 'with mine. Her hands left the buttons of my nipples and slid down to grip my waist, just above my wildly jerking hips. She hung on, pulling, working to fuck herself on my flailing cock. Her spasmodic upward heavings encompassed it, making hot sexual love to it while it churned and steamed and slurped in and out of her slippery pussy:

She surprised me by coming, screaming and pounding her heels against the bed while her hands slid like claws over my arms and back. I grinned, gripped her, and kept on ramming hard and fast. Her wet slot was fuming as I pounded it, slithering and slipping slickly in a constant series of wet soppy sounds. She poured out liquid when she came, like a man. In and out of that slushy tunnel I pistoned, with rhythmic beats. Lowering myself onto the cushioning masses of her breasts, I thrust hard, gripping her, sliding and slipping on her sweaty tits, trying to sweep her away on a torrential flood of lust.

Her head flailed back and forth on the rumpled sheets. The sounds flowing from her mouth were half-formed words, barely recognizable. The tempo of my thrusts increased when I felt the new series of strong contractions inside her, her inner muscles grabbing orgasmically again. She came again, as if crazed, inhuman. Her sweat-glistening body twisted and churned and she was crying out and squeezing and biting and scratching at my driving body.

I had never seen a woman come like that, in a screaming jerking convulsive riot of satiation. Her body was wracked with tremors and groans. She shuddered and jerked in totally uncontrollable spasms of a joyous orgasm.

My cock felt like it was being squeezed in a hot vise padded with wet silk.

"Deeper, harder, deeper, harder, oh, my God, fuck me, fuck me, harder, harder-r-r-r, come in me-e-eeee. . . . "

I threw my hands down under her, behind her knees, and jerked them up to shove her knees back over her shoulders. Her thighs rammed down into her naked tits and they squelched up on both sides. I rammed hard, grinding down into her open and yielding cunt as far as I could send myself, in a frenzy of fucking. The hard slippery mass of my tool went deep, and the swollen head caromed off the rubbery inner cushion of her cervix.

She screamed and raked me with fingers curled like claws. The extreme position and suddenly intensely deep penetration brought renewed groans of passion from her lips she locked tightly to mine. Her arms clasped me in a death grip. She kissed me furiously, ramming her tongue into my mouth in imitation of my skewering cock going in and out of her. Her body quaked and twitched. Our mouths rasped and groaned together. We chewed at each other's lips in a barbarian intensity of passion.

The lunging viciousness of my strokes into her doubled body increased so that my pelvis smacked like a furry paddle against her bulging mound My cock dipped into the far, far hidden recesses of her quaking belly, slithering on her copious cuntal oil.

Then I was sinking down on her, jerking spasmodically. My deeply planted cock started pumping out hot come. I rocked her body with a mighty bombardment of sluicing sperm, hurling it deep. I kept spurting it into her until it. was trickling down her sleek thighs and at last my exhausted prick squished out of her cunt.

"Good," she breathed, clutching me and squeezing our sweaty bodies tightly together so that her tits slithered under my chest. "Oh good, it was good good!" Kissing my cheeks and ears and neck. "You're good!" Squeezing the cheeks of my trembling ass. "Good, good!" And she bit my ear.

We lay there a long while, locked together on the sweat-dampened sheets.

CHAPTER THREE

"You want to go over to Dave's, lover, or go get something to eat or just stay here?" Joretta asked. I had been lying there thinking she was the finest sexiest most passionate woman on Earth--and she had called me good!

"Jesus, woman, give a guy a minute to rest, will you?"

"Is a minute all you need?" She wriggled under me.

"To rest, not to rejuvenate. I'll need a little more time for that, I think. Also another beer."

"R & R," she throated. "Rest and rejuvenation. Just ring when you're ready." She was smiling. "Meanwhile: funny I didn't notice before. I must have been distracted. You're heavy."'

I didn't doubt that a bit. I slid myself off her. My penis left a sticky trail of cooling cum across her thigh. I flopped onto my back. She rolled my way, kissed my chest and played with my nipple with her tongue. Then she rolled away and left the bed,' big red-nippled jugs swinging restlessly from side to side.

Listening to the fliptop cap on another beer go snick, I wondered. Miss Femlib? What the holy sacred fuck was Dave talking about?

Then it hit me. A Femlibber doesn't have to be a lesbian, or a screecher with a failed marriage, or nineteen feet tall. Joretta was liberated from the crappy days and lives of her grandmother and probably her mother. She could fall in the sack with whomever she pleased, whenever she pleased. And get herself fixed with a cervical ring or coil or take the pill or whatever. And not be ostracized and pointed out-except by the sickoes who think we shouldn't even read or write about sex, much less do it!

"We're better off here," Joretta said "My brother's an unbelievable square. Mister super straight. Puts all his money into that silly car of his. Thinks it makes him sexy and irresistible. Besides, those Saint Louis creeps yukh! All they want to do is drink beer and talk about how marvy the shot's going to be, Sunday."

"You a telepath?"

"Hm? Here, can you raise your head and get some of this? It's still pretty chilly. No, I don't read minds, lover. Why?"

"I had the same thoughts about Dave. Straight. And the car."

"He's about as easy to read as a first-grade primer. I'm tired of mothering him, too. Trying to find some nice girl for him."

"Nice girl?"

"Yeah, " she said. "Sweet, cherry, and dumb."

I chuckled. Yeah, that's probably what he wanted, all right.

"You're not that easy to read though, man. I thought maybe you were pretty put off when you came out of the shower and found me here."

"Didn't hear you come in," I said, easing myself up the bed's headboard, getting a pillow behind me, and taking the beer. After palming a bare tit, I took the cold can. "Also, you were trying to embarrass me."

Without even glancing her way while I tipped the can, I reached out to pinch her nipple. She gasped. I lowered the beer.

She laughed. "You're right," she said, rubbing her pinched nipple and giving me a dirty took. "I sneaked in and tried to uptight you. You didn't uptight. What're you going to do about it?"

I thought about it.

"I'll get you a present to make it up to you," she said. "Don't ask. You'll have to wait and see. Surprise present."

"Maybe I'll just-pinch your nipple off?"

"Be a shameful waste," she said. "One less to amuse yourself with." She drank unconcernedly. I eased my fingers from her tight nipple, cupped the soft underside of her breast in farewell, and withdrew my hand.

"You win," I said. "One-nippled girls do put me off a bit."

"How many've you seen?"

I raised my eyes to the ceiling. "Let me think. . . . "

She giggled.

"I'm not much on freaks," I added, still regarding the ceiling. It looked like all motel ceilings. Someday when I'm rich I'm going to buy a motel, or build one, and have mirrors put on all the ceilings, right above the beds. And see how long it takes for some anxious mama's boy of a supercatholic D.A. to come close me down."

"How about ball freaks?" she asked, tracing some sort of design on my chest with one finger. "Hey, you've got some hair here."

"Funny, I didn't before I came out of the shower."

She chuckled patting my chest.

"When you say ball freaks," I said, "I get the impression you aren't talking about guys who spend their weekends on their weak ends in front of the television, watching ballgames."

She giggled again. "You're right."

"You a ball freak, Joretta?"

"God, isn't that obvious? But I'm not the only one in the world."

"Thank," I said fervently, "God."

"Hmp! I'm not enough?"

"I pass. Nice girls who ball shouldn't get bitchy and fish for compliments after."

"How about before?" She looked up with raised brows.

"Too late for that," I told her.

"Not for the next one," she told me, and her hair tickled my gut as she bent over and. sucked my shriveled cock up into the hot moist haven. of her mouth. She went to work on it, and I knew it wouldn't stay shriveled long.

Welcome to Florida!

But-like it or not-I knew we couldn't start again. Not now. So, reluctantly, I stopped her. She seemed both surprised and impressed-after all, it did take some self-control to push her head back and slide my cock out of her mouth. We showered then, together, and we very nearly got wound up enough to screw in there, standing up. But we didn't, and in thirty or so minutes we went over to Dave's.

Joretta was right. Those guys from St Louis were nowhere. Sam and Sparky and Bilbo and Cliff. Nowhere. Jeans that looked like they'd been sleeping in them for a month-after wallowing around on the floor of a garage somewhere. Four real messes, and I could see they were slobbing up Dave's small apartment, too, although he was obviously the neat sort. They did some drooling over Joretta.

"You touch that knocker one more time, little man," I heard her say once, "and you get a knee in the balls, if you're wearing any."

And another time: "Oh come on, Bilbo, you act like you're about twelve. Listen, when you get back to Saint Louis you oughtta ask your daddy about the birds and the bees."

"I already know about the birds and the bees," Bilbo said, wiping some greasy hair back over his shoulder.

"Cool," my beautiful bed partner said, acidly. "Then why not ask him about PEOPLE, huh?" And she came over to me. "You should give these guys lessons, lover. I don't mean give-charge 'em plenty. They don't know a thing about turning a woman on!"

"Try to ge good, Joretta," I said, trying not to look smug, but after that they were more careful with her. And damned if they didn't treat me with respect. Two of them and I rode with Joretta to go get some supper. They rode in back. I sat up front and played with her tits all the way.

She drove to a club-The 2001 where Dave very definitely did not want to go. Once we were inside, a nice, quiet, dimly lit place with a hostess wearing boots and a lace-up vest and mini of that shiny, leather looking cire-and nothing else-her darling brother was most anxious to hurry through the meal and leave.

He was a snob, is what he was.

Joretta leaned over to give me a peck on the cheek-and a quick feel, under the table. "Gotta go to work," she said, and departed. She was far away by the time I'd even got up. I looked bewilderedly at the others. Dave. Sam. Bilbo. Cliff. Sparky.

Dave grew even more anxious to leave. He managed to get the four creeps rounded up and ready. I sat still. I wasn't anxious for their company, and I was pretty pissed off about Joretta's high-tailing it. I couldn't believe she'd just take off like that.

"You see your sister, Dave, tell her I'm still here. I came with her, and I'll just stick around a little while."

"Well, shit;' he said, glancing nervously around. A tall sinewy girl was on the little stage in the center of the room, doing a go-go that was about a step away from old-time bump-and-grind. She had also grinned at me.

"I'll make out," I said, thinking that not a one of those five alleged males had any notion of my double meaning. I was eyeballing the go-go girl. She had those long legs and slim thighs that make you wonder if being squeezed to death wouldn't be a nice way to go

So Dave and the four clods left. And Miss Slim kept dancing and smiling at-me. Once she winked. Yeah, I thought, I'll make out. Then she finished, with a flourish of the combo and a rousing round of applause from the club's patrons-mostly male. And she came walking sinuously toward my table. I got ready. Hot damn!

"Lucky Joretta," she smiled-and passed me by.

I sat there and stared after her wiggly little tail, and I had the same thought, but in a totally different way. Hot-DAMN!

I was still wondering when the next girl started doing her thing. She was incredible. Very long brown hair, brown eyes so dark they were nearly black, and looked huge. Round face and heavy, sensuous eyelids and lips. About five-five, and maybe weighed one-twenty-five.

Make that about eighty-five pounds, without the tits.

She was the juggiest female I had ever seen. Her bra, I mused, must have about five hooks in back. (About that time she squatted, swinging her arms and hunching her shoulders, and a mammoth tit popped up over her low-cut minidress, looking like a rednosed airplane coming out of the hangar. Her bra didn't have any hooks in the back, because she was unbrassiered. And unbelievably firm and unsagging.)

I did what every other customer did. I sat there and stared. I forgot all about Joretta. I just sat there with a hard-on and thought about what a groove it would be to be smothered to death in tit.

Then she finished and went off-after, I swear, grinning at me-and I remembered Joretta again. I had to.

Joretta was the next dancer.

Be damned, I thought, this is where she works! And that damned Dave-what a snob! Must be embarrassed or something, doesn't want those greasyjeaned schnooks to know his baby sister does something so wickedy-wicked as go-go dancing!

This time I sat there at my table, sipping a bourbon-and-soda, and watched her do vertically what I had already seen-and felt-her do in a horizontal position. It was fun watching, but not nearly so much fun as participating had been back at the Ping Pong Motel. Make that Poontang.

At break time she came over with the dark girl with the supercolossal superstructure. Her name, Joretta said, was Superjug Kate. I swallowed that mentally, and wished I could try swallowing one of those superjugs in the flesh

Joretta forced her car keys on me. She wouldn't get off till two a.m., and Superjug Kate would drive her home. After some chatter about it, I finally agreed, and left. I decided to skip going to Dave's and beering down with him and the Missourians, because I've never had fleas. I stopped and bought some sauce, went back to the Ping Pong, and turned on the television.

The late movie on Channel 9 was a fantasy about Francis Lederer making a man out of a cat-well, almost-on an island, and of course he got killed by his own creation in the end. Shame. I like science fiction, and Hollywood really ought to try it someday. But the heroine was a titsy blonde named Greta Thyssen, remember her? She reminded me of Joretta, and I kept looking at that rumpled bed and remembering and wishing to hell she weren't working.

Dave called, and I told him I must've eaten too much rare steak, and had a bellyache. Sorry. Yeah, great, I'd be ready when he came by in the morning at ten o'clock. I had another bourbon-soda and got in bed. I went to sleep with a mingled vision of Joretta and Kate's big sugarplums dancing in my head.

It was something after two in the morning when I was awakened, abruptly. like, by the door flying open.

"SURPRISE, SURPRISE!" Joretta called, waving the extra key to my room. She came in, crowded from behind by Superjug Kate's super jugs.

I stared.

"Oh WOW," Joretta said, "lookl He sleeps BARE!

I flicked the sheet partially over myself. "I wasn't expecting company," I said.

"Aw-w-w . . . poor baby!" Joretta stood there smiling at me with her head on one side. "Well. No use standing here making him feel uncomfortable, Kate!" She shook her head. "Nope-it's up to us to get naked tool" I sat up straighter in the bed.

"Oh, but we won't give the inhospitable mother a show. He hasn't even welcomed us in. Oh, no." Joretta gave me a nasty look. Then she flipped off the light she'd snapped on as she came in. I sat there in the dark, in bed, naked, and listened to the sound of whispering, of humming zippers and rustling clothes. And more whispering. Then that sheet was yanked off my legs with the vicious suddenness of a hurricane. Before I could move, a hand plunged up between my thighs and grabbed me by the balls. She didn't grip me hard enough to hurt, just enough to make me nervous as a bull on a steer ranch. And tight enough to let me know that just the slightest bit of added pressure and I'd be in agony.

"Better be a good boy, Mike-baby," Joretta said, and thank God there was a grin in her voice.

"I am going to be so damned good you wouldn't believe," I said, "so long as you're hanging on to the Milford family jewels. What is it you want, ball-cracker?"

"Watch it. Don't get smart," she said.

The bitch moved her thumb, just a little, and my left nut squirted over and tried to snuggle up to my right. I didn't say anything. You can embarrass yourself, trying to talk when someone's got you by the balls.

"You've got two naked women in a motel room, Mike-baby. The question is, what're you going to do about it?"

"I'm going to sit right here with my arms folded, Joretta," I said sternly, "until you let go my balls." She squeezed, threatening me. I took a deep, deep breath.

"A little more of that and I sure won't worry about what I'm going to do with two naked women in my motel room. I'll just go to sleep like a-good little eunuch."

She held on, not tightly. Silence, in the darkness.

"Let go my-balls, bitch!"

Her hand opened. Suddenly the bed was bouncing as she came crawling and flowing up over me. I felt naked tits slap my belly. Then my head was framed in her palms and her mouth was so close I could feel her breath as she spoke, earnestly, apologetically, in a low urgent voice.

"Oh, Mike, Mike baby, I was KIDDING! You KNOW I wouldn't-I'm sorry!"

I grabbed her by both tits. I squeezed, hard. Strong fingers sank into yielding and sensitive flesh.

"Ow!"

"Hurt?"

"Uh . . . huh . . . ohh. . . . "

"Can't compare, Joretta, to the pain and honest-to-God fear a man feels when his nuts are threatened, damn you. Where the hell's Kate?"

"Uh-ow-w-w-w . . . She's right oh--"

"I'm here," Kate said, a few feet away in the darkness.

"Well come closer, I want to play with you, you doll. As for you, Joretta-if you don't want to sit down and wait, get your butt back down there and apologize to those balls. Kiss them to show them how sorry you are. Let's have a little tongue."

"Yeahhh," she hissed, shivering. Her. lips brushed mine. "How about a lot of tongue?"

I reached around to slap her rump, bouncing my palm off one of those bulging mounds of firm flesh, with a loud cracking sound. She grunted, gave me a hard hot mouth-moving kiss, and backed off. She deliberately teased me by dragging her tits down my body. But I wanted to get my hands on those mammoth mammaries of her friend and co-worker, and Joretta's dragging jugs just reminded me. A sudden hot thrill warmed my belly when I felt Joretta's red mane topple over my thighs. Then my abdominal muscles gave a twitch and a jerk as she applied her warm wet tongue to the swollen bag of twin rocks between my legs.

It was wonderful-but I still wanted Kate's out-zooming warheads. I moved a hand out into black space-and grinned. My hand intersected the huge bulge of one of Superjug Kate's superabundant tits, which meant that she had moved forward since speaking a few moments before. I slid a hand under to cup the hanging torpedo of one big tight breast. Closing my fingers around it, I tugged. She came, with a willing sigh.

And all the while Joretta's tongue was slicking around and over my scrotum, teasing and titillating and delighting me with clever little flourishes of her tongue. That warm wet tongue rolled delicately and excitingly around the base of my cock until I quivered with the desire to stick it up her face.

Now Superjug Kate was standing right beside the bed and I was playing with the impudently poised fullness of her big jugs as if they were toys for my amusement. I rubbed them lasciviously up and down her chest, thrusting them apart, tugging at them, shoving them together to make the flesh squilch together and upward before releasing them to let them dance and wobble back into place. Her oversized knockers were delightfully warm, almost flaccidly soft, and I pulled her closer. I had to bend my head to them, thrusting my mouth forward until the flowing milky flesh spread softly over my mouth and chin. I flicked my tongue over the big sweet cherries that tipped them.

Her hands came out to caress my face and her fingers slid into my hair. She was making rapturous little crooning noises. Letting me know that she loved the attention I was devoting to the smoothly distended hemispheres of her disproportionate tits.

Without biting, I closed my teeth carefully about one swollen nipple bud and pulled it slowly, stretching it pinkly away from the white flesh it adorned. She moaned again, in a mingled confusion of pain and delight. Now she was moaning constantly. I was jerking and biting back my groans because Joretta had lifted my legs as she licked lower and lower, and she was licking between my ass cheeks now, and that is a feeling that is inexpressibly, incredibly marvelous, and all I wanted to do was open my mouth and groan and ram my ass into her face.

Instead, still sucking at one of Kate s big thrusting hard nipples, I ran a hand down her belly. It quivered beneath my touch. I found the lightly furred bulge of her runt. Stroking the tender foliage, I listened to her soft sighs and moans. She surged her turgid nipple into my mouth until I was half smothering in tit. Her hands held my head lovingly.

I could feel her pelvic muscles jerking as I threatened to probe her belly with my fingers. I poked one into her, found her wet and easily entered, and pushed my fingers all the way in. She gasped and shuddered. Her belly rippled, then went tense in an impressive display of musculature. She began arching her hips to meet the rhythmic, cock-imitating thrust of my finger into her supple slit. It went very easily and moved about easily in her, slithering over slick-wet inner surfaces. Soon I had another finger planted inside her, finding her juicy and capacious. I began vigorously finger fucking her hot, churning vagina.

"Ah!" I groaned. I jerked. I was almost in agony, shaking and jerking. Joretta had pierced me, pushing a slim finger into my saliva-lubricated ass-hole. She was also nibbling at my balls, deliberately teasing me with mouth and teeth and tongue and finger. I could hear the combined, contrapuntal sloppy sounds of both my fingers in Kate's pussy and Joretta's up my back.

Then I pulled my anus off Joretta's finger and ignored her. I pulled Kate. She toppled onto the bed with a groan and a flopping of her great springy jugs and a creaking of bedsprings. With her on her back, I bestrode her and moved swiftly up. I heard her sigh as I rubbed my prick sensuously back and forth over her breasts and in the soft damp valley between them. Her hands rose to press them in, enclosing me in those two red-tipped pinnacles of beauty.

Joretta moved around behind me. "What are you doing?"

"Fucking Kate's marvelous big tits," I told her.

Kate groaned in sensuous response to the harsh words and clamped her marvelous big tits more tightly around my penis.

"Hmm! Is it fun, lover?"

Before I could answer, Kate did. "Yes-s-s-ss. . . . " Her voice was low, and thick with passion. Joretta giggled, feeling and fondling my buttocks. "Well, I'm going to turn on the bathroom light. If you're going to ignore me, I at least want to WATCH!"

I didn't respond as she doubtless expected me to, and after a moment she left the bed. Kate was holding her magnificent jugs even closer and I slid my cock between their broad white bases and let it slither up the smooth valley.

The light went on in the bathroom. A dim hint of it invaded the bedroom, and now I could see as I drew my prick in and out of the narrow tit-crease that enclosed it like a big soft cunt. Joretta returned, but instead of mounting the bed behind me, she knelt beside Kate's head.

"Oooh! Look! The tip of your cock looks so luscious, Mike, and inviting!" Joretta cried. "So-silky-looking. And it looks like It's staring at Kate from between her boobies with that one little reddish eye!" Kate moaned, quivered, and clapped her tits tightly together around my sliding shaft. She rolled her glowing brown eyes down, raising her head a little to look at the big red glans. She watched it disappear and reappear from the tunnel between the big swelling milkwagons she held in place.

Encompassed between the ponderous masses of her tits, my cock had begun to throb with anxious, heated pulsing. Rocking my buttocks on the warmth of her abdomen, I eased more and more forward. Now the head of my stiff penis was touching her chin every time it slid through the deep white valley of breast flesh. Sighing softly, she clamped her chin down against her throat and kissed my glans the next time through.

I shuddered and pulled back. But she opened her mouth, and I changed my mind and thrust forward to stick the head of my cock between those sweetly rounded lips. She licked it and tried to pull more into her face. But with another shudder, I pulled back.

A little of that and I'd spurt off all over her tongue. That would certainly have been fun, but-what a waste! My mind was already working out a means to handle this three-way bed session. The problem was how to satisfy both these hot women without giving myself a sore bag for a week.

I backed off Kate, riding my naked butt down her body. She shivered, whimpered a little, and let go of one huge tit to reach for me.

"Joretta," I said quietly, "get on your hands and knees, straddling her."

"Now wait a minute, we aren't-"

"Not on her, over her. Above her, with your back to me."

"Good lord," Kate muttered, "don't tell me he's got a double-barreled prongl"

Joretta shivered deliciously, grinned, and assumed the position-quickly. Kate looked as dubious as her friend. Apparently they were without any sort of girl-to-girl experience, and weren't anxious for any. Fine; that wasn't what I had in mind anyhow.

Now Joretta was in place, kneeling on the bed with a knee-planted on either side of Kate's supine body. And presenting me with a view of her sleek ass. Below it, in the light from the bathroom, I could see the large mossy mound of Kate's vulva. It was a view you couldn't get in a magazine-but that you'd pay plenty for if you could!

Now astride Kate's legs, I ran a caressing hand over her pubic mound while I gazed at the upturned halves of Joretta's tail. They were like swollen, overripe fruits of a beautiful eggshell pink. And because she knelt straddling the other girl, they were pulled well apart to show me the long dark furrow that divided them. It ran on down, narrowing, until it became a slimmer cleft between the slightly opened ridge of her downward-turned vulva.

I moved forward. She gasped when I grasped her hips, preparatory to thrusting into her from behind. My hands were hot and slightly sweaty on her flanks.

"Ohhhhh, baby-yes!" she breathed.

She arched her butt back to expose her slitted pussy more accessibly to my prong.

Then, from behind, I sent that great hard-throbbing cock straight between her thighs and into the crimson cleft of her belly.

"Ah ahh-ummmmmmm!" she gasped, jerking involuntarily.

She was not as wet and easy as she had been nine or so hours ago, but I certainly didn't worry about hurting her. She was not dry inside. In a moment my groin was pressed firmly against her buttocks and my prick was buried deep in her clutching pussy, burning and thrusting. The silken inner surfaces of her cunt sent a fierce blaze of hunger through me and she grunted when I jammed, hard.

Then I seized her hips and held her there while I stroked rapidly in and out of her. My thighs rammed and slapped her jiggling buttocks, noisily. Flesh on flesh, slap and slap again.

She cried out and grunted, spreading her legs and thrusting up her ass to meet my brutal power and passion. Her backward thrusting enthusiasm brought rasping sighs of mounting pleasure from me.

Then Kate reached both hands in beneath the arch of Joretta's body, between her thighs, and started playing with my balls and lower buttocks. I gasped in surprise and pleasure-and jerking, I rammed my cock up Joretta's wet quim far enough for her to taste it. She squealed, jerked forward, lost her balance, and slumped onto the other woman.

"UNNNGH!" Kate groaned, as her co-worker flopped down on her.

"Ah-damn!" I groaned, as my prick flipped out of Joretta's supple clutch and she was no longer there for me to ram it back in.

Joretta groaned, too, and whimpered.

Now they were both lying there, belly-to-belly and tit to tit and with their muffs jammed together to form one big furry one.

I didn't give Joretta a chance to hoist her butt back up again. Leaning forward over her back, I braced myself with one hand planted on the bed With the other hand, I guided my penis downward, at a considerably lower angle. I felt curling hair against the tip, hair that was slightly coarser than Joretta's. I pushed The swollen glans buried itself in the thicket of pubic hair and began spreading soft cunt lips. I pushed. My cock expanded the little socket and eased on in. Then I was fully plugged into the electrifying depths of her cant Kate's cunt.

Kate groaned and shivered beneath Joretta's body-which I held down on her by leaning on the redhead's back.

"Hey-y-y," she whined. "Aww-Kate baby! He's in you!"

"Uh-HUH!" Kate responded, with enthusiasm. She jiggled a little-all she was capable of-and I felt her soft inner flesh squirm around my imbedded shaft.

"Damn!" Joretta griped. "I've heard of a girl being in a sandwich before, but this isn't my idea of what that's about!" She sighed. "Well, Mike baby . . . I did promise you a present!"

"Yeah," I said. Good lord, I thought, she brought me Kate as a present! I surged against her butt in virile nakedness and driving ,force, while driving myself into the girl beneath her. "Thanks!"

She only groaned and lay there with her big tits coasting on Kate's bigger ones. Meanwhile, I, like a fool, screwed without being able to so much as see any of those enviable tit-globes. But the feel of Joretta's buttocks against my stomach was more than good. So was the feel of Kate's smooth warm groove all around my cock. With every in stroke I felt the rubbing of her extraordinarily well-developed clitoris.

I slashed down into her, frictioning hard Driving from the toes, I sank between the mysterious juicy folds of her labia and into the seething cavern beyond. Both women groaned and slipped around on each other's voluptuous bodies. I aided and abetted that slippery sliding with bulldozer thrusts into the liquid silk of Kate's palpitating inner cunt.

"Uh . . . oh baby . . . let me out of here," Joretta groaned.

Instantly I tried to change her mind. I pulled all the way out of Kate and let my cock run back into Joretta. It slid deep into her cunt, thrusting and forcing the pliant inner membranes to spread and flower before the big cruising knob. Joretta squealed loudly and jerked backward. That swift movement dicked her even more deeply.

Her gleaming haunches rose and fell in a rocking-chair motion. I heard her belly and breasts slapping against Kate's and wondered if that was erotic to them; it was to me! I pulled back and rammed, hard. Her body jerked and quivered as if it had received a mortal wound. Her cunt flared, welcoming the thick hot log of flesh that invaded her so demandingly from behind. She concentrated on squeezing her hungry pussy around it, gripping me fervently in tight hotness.

I slid in and out of that heated slickery hole again and again, then popped free and lowered my aim and plunged back into the other girl again. My brain seemed to stagger under the intensely erotic impact of having two women under me, of fucking two willing pussies at once.

Kate squealed when it came surging back into her. Apparently forgetting herself, she grabbed Joretta and pulled her hard down onto her.

I punched down onto the taut, supple mounds of Joretta's bobbing ass and into the long hot funnel of Kate's womb. I began to gasp for every breath as I fucked and screwed and skewered her, slapping Joretta's ass with my body while I pumped wildly in and out of Kate's hot delicious cunt. It seemed to grab and grip me.

Then I really crouched down there and ground it in, and in about a minute Kate was screaming and sighing and jerking in orgasm. I smiled with proud satisfaction. I had thought that big protruding clit of hers would bring her off in record time!

As she became slushy inside, I pulled out. Again I tucked my cock into Joretta and began ramming her with all my strength. Her co-worker lay under her, writhing and sighing and squealing in orgasm. Her body humped continually against Joretta's.

With Kate's supertitsy body slapping and thumping her from beneath, and me from behind, Joretta was getting more stimulation than she'd dreamed of. She began to groan, sigh, and squirm.

I hunched, clutched her and pulled her back against me. Driving and driving, slicking and sliding it in and out, of her deep juicy cunt. Suddenly she was jerking, shuddering, grinding. I felt her sag weakly beneath me as she sighed out her hot climax. Then I let go and let it happen. I had held back, working hard to bring both of them off. In seconds I was spurting long hot jets of semen into her. I even whipped myself out of Joretta's semen-slippery cunt in time to send the last little spurt into Kate.

That's how I satisfied two women at once. If it wasn't the best way, none of us minded.

CHAPTER FOUR

Ten a.m. came too early, but I was ready and standing outside the motel when Dave arrived to pick me up. I had to be-Joretta and Kate were still indecorously decorating my bed!

"You really work on a newspaper, Mike?" he asked as we drove along US 1.

"Nope. Sloppy goddam government we've got, isn't it?"

"Yeah. But don't worry about it. Some of the people the government brings in from Latin America, via USIA and OAS and so on, are really yoyos. Here we are, m'boy."

And here we were. Apollo News Center at Kennedy Space Center: Accredited Nexus Media Only. Inside were a lot of people, and we convinced the screening girl at the front desk that we were for real, and then we joined the line in front of a windowed counter that reminded me of a post office. Eventually I traded in my NASA letter for a sexy pink card in a plastic holder with a big clip on the back, where it was also signed by Charles L. Unreadable, Jr. On the other side the card advised the world that Mike Milford represented PRESS at the KSC Manned Space Center.

I still have that card, you can bet on that!

Next we piled into buses for a tour of the Center, which I soon learned was like an enormous park or game preserve-complete with ducks, geese, wild hogs (! ) and-armadillos! Also a lot of those funny Florida trees and grass and a good deal of meandering little creeks. We went out to the museum, and saw some of the first stuff we sent up, including a little craft that looked like a toy. It wasn't. It had once taken Alan Shepard way the hell into the air and beyond the air.

We also did things like stop and get out so we could stare at It, way over there across the river, waiting for Sunday afternoon; stopped to get out and look and take pictures of the Crawler, an unbelievable monster that carries the spacegoing vehicles to the launching pad: the crawler makes one mile per hour going and two mph coming back. Wow. It looked like the great god of all caterpillar tractors. They also pointed out this huge building, told us it was the Vehicle Assembly Building or VAB-and that it was ten miles away. We didn't believe it, of course. It looked big as a house, and nothing looks that big from ten miles off.

We were a motley crew. People of both sexes in superstraight clothes, with highclass cameras and even recorders that they muttered into. A crewcut science fiction artist with one of the nicest faces I've ever seen. Some science fiction writers, as well as newspapermen, radio people, guys on assignment from magazines, and . . . guys like me, in here under false pretenses. Suits and neckties, sports shirts and slacks, pantsuits and miniskirts, crewcuts and long-haired bearded guys.

And the French people. They were here under the auspices of USIA, and they were quite a quartet. There was this fat old broad with salt-and-pepper hair cut into an oldtime Elvis Presley ducktail. And a scrawny little guy with a pencil-line mustache and a black beret. Looked like Hollywood's idea of a Frenchman, honestly, and he was for real! Also a handsome young cat, probably sweating in his black suit and white shirt and black necktie.

The fourth member of the French party was something else again. An absolute doll of about twenty who must've come straight from an American store, where she'd got a slinky pearly satin blouse and a pair of tight-asked white hip huggers with big bell bottoms. Whacked-off red-gold hair. Big greenish-blue eyes and a babydoll mouth that made you want to kiss it immediately.

I didn't. I observed her for a while, and noted that there was some sort of strain between her and the young cat in the black suit. So when we went up on top of the Apollo 13 pad, I got myself over there where she was. Around us the wind moaned weirdly, through abandoned equipment.

"That wind sounds more like an Alfy Hitchcock movie than our biggest technical achievement, doesn't it?" I asked, standing beside her.

She looked at me. I tried not to drown in those big blue-green eyes and managed to resist grabbing and kissing her on those beckoning, pursed-looking lips.

"Alf ah! Se horror movie man!" She smiled and bobbed her head, with the wind plucking at her hair. The long-haired girls-and males-were really getting a hard time, up here. "Yes," she said. "Yes-it is weird, isn't it. A strange sound."

Think: French accent. Double-e sound rather than sort "i", funny-sounding "r" sounds, and an "s" sound for every "th." And I won't bother to try to get it all down the way it sounded, out of her sweet, pretty mouth.

I saw her sort of glancing past me. I twisted my neck to see the black-suited young Frenchman eyeballing us-darkly.

"He does not, ah, care to have you talking to me, does he?"

She made a face. "Him! He is a-what is it you say-oh! A pain in se neck! Raoul-a pain in se neck," she repeated, liking the phrase.

I laughed. "Not your husband or fiancee or boy friend, then?"

"Definitely NOT, M'sieu!"

"I'm not monsieur, I'm Mike," I said.

"Mike? Mike?" She rolled her eyes, seeming to taste the word.

"That's like American, for 'Michel,' " I explained.

"Oh! Oui-allo Mike, I am Kystele."

"Kees-tell," I repeated. "Gee, that's pretty. I don't think we have an American for that one!"

"You Americans," she said, "do not have everysing!"

"You're so right," I agreed. "Certainly not the bestlooking women-since you aren't American."

She touched my arm with a warm little hand. "Sank you, Mike-you are tres gallant." She glanced past me again and her smile faded a bit. "I wish someone like you had come along on sis treep, rather than Raoul-and the bodyguards Papa sent along to watch me."

"Bodyguards?"

"You 'ave seen them. A man the size of a termite and a woman like a 'ippopotamus! They watch me all the time. To make sure I get into no trouble with-" she looked up at me. "-with 'andsome Americains!"

"Damn," I said, "there went my plans to get into trouble with you, Kystele!"

We laughed together and I caught sight of Madame Hippopotamus heading our way. We obviously were not listening to the tour-guide's lecture.

"Time to split," I said quietly. "Where are you staying, beautiful French lady?"

She made a paddle-swinging gesture. "Se-se PeengPong Motel," she said, and laughed.

"Be damned," I said, "so'm I!"

"KYSTELE!"-Madame Hippo.

Kystele sighed. "Au 'voir, Michel," she said, and turned and hurried over to the fat old broad.

I let out a sigh, too, and meandered over to where the grinning black man in the yellow shirt was telling a little group about the firepit running below and down beside the huge concrete "pad" we stood on. Kystele, I thought. What a pretty sound! And what a pretty girl! Odd shape-lots of bottom and very little top.

There hadn't been much in the way of bulges in her satin blouse, but the bulges in the back of the hip-huggers were something else. And alive, marvelously, ball grabbingly alive when she ran over to Mme. Hippo.

Oh, well. I tried to make a little time with some plump girl with a yard or so of straight brown hair, and found out very quickly that she was most definitely with a bearded dude who looked, like he could wrestle Tarzan to a draw, at the very least. After that I played tourist, and I have to admit I was super-impressed and very interested in the VAB. The building was that big. The two big front doors were bigger than any house I'd ever seen. The thing was so tall there was actually a cloud inside, way up there, and the guide told us it rained in here! This was where they built the rockets, vertically, and the place used to be called the Vertical Assembly Building until someone asked Werner von Braun what the hell a "vertical" was. So they kept the initials and changed Vertical to Vehicle.

There you are. Redeeming social values. It isn't something everyone knows.

After the tour, I had a very late lunch, enormous hamburgers and french fries, while Dave chattered about the four St Louisites and reminded me that he was having a party that night.

"Oh man, I'LL BE there," I said, thinking: Blah. But after all it was because of him I was here, and Joretta and Kate had already been more than hospitable.

We were nearing the motel when he asked if I didn't want to come on over to his apartment for a beer or something, now.

"Oh wow," I said, "listen, Dave, I need some crash-time. I hung around until your pretty sister got off last night and, uh, I admit we necked a little."

He nodded. "Oh, yeah, sorry. She a good neck?"

"Yeah, but I be damned if I'm going to discuss it with her brother,", I laughed, giving him a phony punch in the arm. He laughed and I laughed and he let me off at the motel with us on good terms. And I went into my room thinking that Dave was all right, a good guy. Just a little slow.

The room was neat, dark, and the bed had been made and the ashtrays emptied. I stripped and crawled into bed and awoke almost exactly an hour later, thinking what a dummy I was. I'd had this dream about Kystele.

"Connect me with Madamoiselle Jourdan's room," I told the clerk on the other end of the phone.

"Madam-who?"

"Kystele," I said. "Good grief, how many young beautiful French girls with red-gold hair and big blue-green eyes do you have staying here, anyhow?" Sitting up in bed, I winked at myself in the mirror across the room.

"Oh-you mean Miss Lefebure."

"That's what I said," I told him with a straight voice. and a secret grin on my face. He didn't say anything else. He just connected me. The phone rang twice-and she answered. Umm, that sweet little voice with the sweet little accent! I could almost see her lovely puckered lips forming every word she spoke.

"Hi. It's Mike-I-mean-Michel. What're you doing?"

"Ah, 'ello Michel-I-mean-Mike! I am--" she broke off, giggling. "What are you doing?"

"Sitting in bed, naked, and talking on the phone with a beautiful girl. With my eyes closed so I can see her beautiful mouth."

"You wha-Are you REALLY?"

"Sure, I mean yes. Why?"

"That is just what I am doing!"

"You've got your eyes closed so you can see your beautiful mouth?"

She laughed. "No, seelly. I am sitting up in bed, talking on se tay-lay-phone, and I also am en desha-bille."

Thinking that their word for "naked" sure is a lot prettier than ours, I asked, "You taking a nap? Did I wake you?"

"No no, I am glad you called. I cannot sleep." She sighed.

"You're unhappy. You're in a strange place and you tried to go to sleep so you wouldn't have to think. And being quiet in bed just made you think harder."

"You are a GENIUS!"

"Damn, what a waste," I said, being cute. "One person per bed, and they're such big beds, too!"

"Yes-s-s-s-, " she said softly, drawing it out, and I felt a little tentacle of heat wriggle through my groin. "What a waste. . . . "

"Well," I said, with my heart beginning to step up its pace, "I could come over to your room and--"

"Oh no! Not with-not with these beagles about! They are WATCHING me! If they should knock on my door and I had company--"

"Are they LITERALLY watching you, Kystele? I mean, what if you left? And come to room sixteen."

"No-oo . . . they probably would not know . . . but . . . sat would be mechant!"

"It might," I said, wondering. "What's mechant?"

"Wee-k-kked-d-ddd," she said, slowly and in a low, wicked voice.

"True," I said. "And you might get into trouble with some wicked American, too. And your poor beagles would have failed-but they'd never know, Kystelel What a joke on them, huh?"

"Yesss . . . what a . . . joke . . . room seexteen. . . . "

I waited, grinning at the mirror and messing with myself unconsiously with one hand while I held the phone with the other.

"Un moment, Michel cheri!" And she hung up.

I pounced out of the bed, unlocked the door and opened it to leave it ajar, and popped back into bed. I arranged sheet and coverlet carefully to cover me from the navel down. And I waited, trying to look casual. I also tried to think about something else, to get rid of the tent in the sheet and coverlet, just below my navel.

Eventually it went down by itself and I was a very disappointed would-be Casanova and French lover. Fifteen minutes passed. Sixteen. I gave up and tried to decide whether to get up and watch TV, or go on. over to Dave's, or just slide back down into the bed and beat my meat while creating a mental picture of Kystele's big shapely ass.

Then there came the two gentle little taps at the door, and it moved inward slightly to admit a shaft of sunlight.

"Come," I said, immediately, working to regain that casual air I had put on seventeen or eighteen minutes ago. Wow, I thought, she must have taken time out to shower. What a dummy I am!"

The door opened some more and Kystele's head came in, big green eyes and beautiful puckered little mouth under cropped bronze hair. Then she came in, the rest of her, swiftly and sort of sidling. She closed the door immediately and turned to squint into the room's dimness. She was wearing a short, belted, beige trench-coat and flat red shoes. I watched her wide eyes get wider and her mouth round into that sexy little o.

"You were see-rious-and you are STILL in bed!"

"I was and I am," I said, nodding and smiling. I held out my arms to her.

"Oh, cheri! This is wicked!"

"Going to be beautiful," I said. "You make me wonder about the French reputation. What about all those boudoir movies?"

"You mus' remember that most of them were comedies, Mike!"

A snappy answer to that one didn't come to me right away, so I asked her how come she'd worn a coat. She looked down at the floor.

"I was . . . I do not wear clothes in bed. I it-the coat . . . I do not have anything on under it."

"Oh, Kystele!" I stretched my arms to her again and wiggled the fingers. "Come and tell me about it." She gazed at the floor. Then she raised her head to look at me and my inviting arms. Her little pink tongue came out and moistened her lips. Then she came.

I pulled her onto the bed with me and held her dose. She pressed me the same way, with her face in the hollow of our shoulder. It was as if we were long-separated lovers, or as if she needed comfort and was gaining it from my body through some kind of osmosis: I held her close, thinking about her being naked under that sexy little secret-agent coat, but I was not interested in osmosis. That's a form of getting fluid from one place to another that doesn't interest me. I am far more interested in the mating habits of human beings. Particularly me.

After awhile I heard her sniff, and after another while she loosened her clutch on me. I responded in kind, and she pulled back a little, to look at me from about two inches away. She looked very sad.

"You're very sad about something," I said.

She nodded. Suddenly there was a moist glisten in her eyes.

I pulled her across those few inches and kissed her. Her lips were very soft, and slowly they became even softer. She began to kiss me back and her hands moved over my nakedness while mine roamed that damned coat's back. Then her mouth came open, and I traced out the soft full lines of her lips with my tongue. She made a little moaning sound and pressed closer. Her hands clutched me. I was quickly made aware that she wore her fingernails long.

Then her own tongue responded to mine. It flicked curled, rubbed against my soft impalement of her lips. She moaned and clutched me close. I moved my lower body, under the sheet, and kissed her deep and wet without even remembering, then, that what we were doing couldn't have been more appropriate. We were French-kissing. Used to be considered very naughty, and English-speaking peoples have always blamed anything naughty on the French. The English still call buggery, ass-fucking, "the French Vice." Oh-and the French call it "La Vice Anglaise."

Now sweet Kystele was moaning, clutching me close, and I was feeling more and more of her nails. She let . me feel her hips, too. They were wriggling excitedly, matching my own little thrusts and undulations against her. Strange, to be doing automobile back-seat things with a girl wearing a coat-in a motel room bed!

We were both starting to pant and getting more than warm. When my hand slid down to the hem of her coat in back and touched the naked flesh of a firm round haunch, I knew she hadn't been kidding about being naked under the abbreviated coal, And I learned something more about her, too. Just that touch sent her into a trembling moaning mass of sensuality. I maintained our deep-tonguing kiss and continued to stroke and fondle that voluptuous hindcheek.

Squirming in pure voluptuous pleasure, she at last pulled back from my mouth. There were tears on her cheeks and her lips trembled.

It took longer than was necessary and longer than either of us, as it turned out, would have wished. Her daddy ran a big newspaper in France, and he was zealously, rather jealously protective of her. Over protective. But she was French, and sensuous, and nineteen, and she had a boy friend. A lover, but of a rather strange kind. Her father checked on her. I mean physically. So she was a virgin because she didn't dare not be. Daddy still had old-fashioned ideas about sending "naughty" girls to convents. But that had not stopped her and her young man from making love, at least once and usually two times a week-and usually more than once per rendezvous. Even with her head averted, she had a hard time telling me. When she did, my penis leaped as if it had been slapped and a thrill of delight and anticipation surged through me.

She and Andr, back in Marseilles, practiced la Vice Anglaise. The English Vice. For two years, while she protected that little piece of vaginal skin to make her father happy-and increase her market value or something, I don't know-she and Andr, had been making it, anally.

Right now she was wild for sex, wild for me, wild for cock. But she took it only in the anus, and she was afraid that would put me off.

I hugged her and stroked that large sensuous ass of hers; teasing the deep crease with my fingers. She trembled violently against me. Then I took her by the shoulders and held her away, gazing into her eyes.

"You darling! Take your coat off, you sweetheart, and let's fuck your sweet beautiful ass."

She had learned her English from the British. With a slight frown she said, "Fuck . . . ass?"

"Arse," I corrected.

Her eyes snapped wide. "Mon dieu! You-oh, darleeeng!" She flung herself against me, rammed hard while she kissed me and tried to tickle my tonsils with her tongue. Then she pulled free and started unbuckling and unbelting and unbuttoning. Her eyes were bright and full of excitement.

"Perhaps I should turn around," she murmured. "You Americans are well known as breast-fetishists--"

You get that damned coat off," I grinned. She grinned delightedly back and got that damned coat off.

I had noticed a lack of bosom earlier and she had just indicated her awareness of a lack. I think I expected a chest with a couple of nipples on it. Instead I smiled at a pair of the cutest pointy tits I'd ever seen. The kind of breasts that makes it clear a girl doesn't have to be juggy to be sexy as hell. like the guy with the five-inch tool he backhands and hunches over to disguise it at a public latrine-and who is servicing one or ten women just beautifully, thanks, because he knows how.

I had to reach out for her. I had to get my mouth on those slim, sharp-pointed protruberances. I slid a hand over one tight cone and moved my lips over the peak of its wideset twin. I squeezed with fingers and hands, bringing both sweet pink nipples to full erection. She held me with both hands framing my head and moaned in helpless, inexpressible pleasure. Little writhing wiggles of her shoulders screwed her pointed, high breasts into my mouth and hand.

I shifted, moving my mouth from right to left and bringing my other hand up to cup the nipple still wet from my mouth. Pressing and squeezing it, I tongued the tip of the other impudent cone. Her hand slid down my shoulder, down my arm and side. She bent slightly, fondling over my lower belly to the shaggy thicket of my pubic hair. Then both of us gasped when her fingers slid around my cock. It was upstanding and banging away with pounding, gorging blood.

"C'est aimable, charmant," she cooed softly, fondling and squeezing.

I wasn't sure exactly what she'd said, but I knew it was in my favor. I let her hear a sort of muffled "oui" around her own taut-nippled breast. She answered that with a sudden tight squeeze of my meat.

"I need this," she murmured.

I disengaged mouth and hand from her bosom, stood up, and we got her onto the edge of the bed, on her knees. I stood behind her, looking down at Kystele's projected ass.

Kystele's ass. Oh, man!

She was going to be bell-bottomed, heavy-assed in about five years and maybe sooner if she got married and had a kid and let it all go to hell afterward. But right now-right now the tempting double curve of her butt was enough to make my cock jump in eager anticipation. The pale cheeks swelled lushly from the very base of her spine and came swooping out behind her like satin-covered pillows.

I set my hands to them and moved my face in, holding the large cheeks apart to gaze at the sweet pink crease and the dark spot in its center. She smelled of perfume, and I was going to kiss that delicate little anal slot and moisten it with my tongue. But she jerked away quivering. And let me know in terms most certain that she didn't want that.

It wouldn't be nice! It would be "weecked!"

So I sighed and moved up behind her. She knelt on the bed with her feet and part of her calves in midair. I stood behind her. My big cock was throbbing up and down with the excited throbbing of my heart. It rose and pulsed against her. Between the bulging mountains of soft flesh, threatening the valley of her ass and the coiled little hole in its center.

I couldn't believe that she or anyone else could be that open, so I shoved my fingers in my mouth and transferred saliva to the head of my prick, twice. Meanwhile she sighed and braced herself. Then she wiggled her hips, just a little. Just looking at that inviting little gesture made me feel like I'd been poked in the nuts.

I thrust. It speared into her. The fat canopied crown of my cock nudged, pushed, and then shocked me with the sudden ease of its vanishing up her ass. She grunted and jerked. Her anus swallowed me up. Then she sighed and leaned her cheek down on the sheet so that her impaled rump rose even higher and more inviting.

I pushed. She squirmed and emitted little sighing groaning sounds as it bored in, farther and farther. Her ass chomped my cock like a tiny tight mouth. I realized that she had learned long ago how to relax, utterly, and take it up her back. She probably didn't even need the spit I had used as lubricant. It was unbelievable. I admit to having fucked many a cunt. But none had ever been as exciting, as gratifying, as preposterously tight and marvelously gripping as the rubbery inner skin of that sweet French girl's experienced little anal groove.

I held myself there in it, glorying in it. I felt shudder after shudder go through me as a scalding stream of sensuality seared through my body. I had never experienced such a wondrously blissful sensation. I won't talk about a hot rubber glove, or a hot satiny vise, or whatever. Think of the tightest possible envelope, the tightest possible without hurting a cock, and. that was it. That was the feeling up inside her minute little orifice.

While I stood there unmoving, just concentrating on the unconditionally marvelous experience of having it there, the contracting ovals of her ass began to writhe as urgency grew in her, like a flame. She began moving.

I realized that she was caught up in a furious, overwhelming flood of emotion and sensory delight. She began jerking and grinding herself back, grinding and grunting and moaning like a madwoman.

Her dangling little breasts swayed lightly and buoyantly beneath her. They trembled deliciously, then began to jump and swing violently with her increasingly febrile movements. She was suddenly the aggressor, even kneeling with her back to me. Fucking herself wildly on the big thick chunk of meat ramming way up her ass-hole.

I'd have liked to just stand there and let her do it, just concentrate on the fantastic, glorious sensation of having myself jacked off by a grasping hollow that was hotter and slicker and tighter than I'd have dared hold my own hand around my prick. But I couldn't do it. I had to move. I had to fuck that wonderful ass. My own buttocks itched to tighten up and start hunching.

Hanging onto her flaring hips, I started ramming. My cock whipped powerfully in and out, like a searing flame that would brand her bowels. It slid and slicked in and out, ramming for her intestines. I felt her buttocks crush and flatten against my hips and groin. Saw the hairs of my crotch prickling them, and I knew that I had breached and plumbed the farthest reaches of her fabulously accommodating rectal rift.

She was as if delirious, moaning with a wild desire. I thrust and thrust, reaming my cock in and out of her warmest, most secret depths. Working like a piston in and out of the hot valley of her bottom. The big log was thrusting deep, piercing and stretching the hot hole of her grinding undulating haunches.

"MMM-m-m-m-mmm!" she hummed happily, rocking and jerking.

"UNNHH-ah-ah-ah-ah-yessss . . . oh cheri, darleeng darleeng! . . . touch . . . uh-uh-ah!-just touch my cleetorees--"

Holding myself well within her, I reached around her thigh and slid my hand over her lower belly. I found the bulging ridge of her pubis, the tight slitted hole into it, the hole we were completely ignoring in our wildly enthusiastic and totally delightful ass-fucking. Then I slipped a finger into it. And up, and there was the nearly buried little nubbin, her darling miniature penis, the clitoris she begged me to touch, just touch.

"Ghaaaaaah!" she grunted when I slipped the tip of my finger over it. "Um-l-l-l-llggg! Ah-oui, oui YES!"

And she came, like a first-timer, like a volcano, as if it were the end of the world.

I had thought the clutching sanctuary of her ass was tight and hot before!

Now it grabbed me. It set my prick afire-and it sucked.

I shouted, quivering and jerking violently with the vibrations of my tortured cock as it shot off to drive hot spurting jets of semen relentlessly up her ass. I was spurting madly, wildly, shooting seething cum into her and aching until I thought my cock had burst in her.

She continued moving. She jogged her hips to fuck herself wildly on the spitting serpent up her back. Her tits swung and bounced beneath her, swollen with her orgasm to a new size. And all the while my prick continued to discharge until she must have had semen up in her small intestine.

I admit to collapsing completely. Both of us went to sleep, totally fucked out.

CHAPTER FIVE

When Kystele and I awoke at six p.m. she was horrified. Surely the rest of her group would be missing her by now. I turned over onto my side to watch her slip into her mini-trenchcoat again. I also invited her to Dave's party, but she shook her head. She thanked me, kissed me, peeped outside, and took off.

I rolled over and went back to sleep.

I awoke at quarter of eight, feeling great, and showered to feel greater. Then I dressed and walked the few blocks to Dave's place. I didn't make mulch of a dent in his Fritoes or Swiss cheese or pickles, but I knocked hell out of the ham he had spread out for the guests.

But Dave's party, like poor old Dave and his St Louis friends-still in sweatshirts and those same jeans-was dull. Fortunately there were, other people on the premises.

I got into a conversation with this strange chick from New York City. She was about five-feet-ten, very slim, with ironed almost-white hair running down out of a big floppy black hat. She also wore a laced vest, over nothing, and a scarlet maxiskirt that was fascinatingly slit up the front, very nearly to the point of. no return. Her long long legs were encased in red tights or pantyhose and kneeboots, the shiny plastic kind that women have to roll on and up, like hose.

Her name was Maggie and she was a bit of a nut.

"Hi, you a friend of Dave's? Christ, how lovely, you're taller'n I am."

"Yeah, I--"

"Why're you drinking beer, tall man?"

"I like it. Yes, I'm a friend of Dave's. How lovely, a girl nearly as tall as I am."

"Don't call me a girl, jack."

"Actually my name's Mike. Sorry, sir, I thought--"

"Don't give me that sir stuff, either. What're you, some sort of male chauvinist, going around calling all females girls?"

"Oh Christ," I said. "I'm really terribly sorry, it's just that I can't keep up. You know like all of a sudden I have to call Negroes 'black, even when they're pale like Horne and Belafonte, and I hadn't heard that I wasn't supposed to call young women girls. My mother always called herself a girl."

"Well; I don't dig it. Anyhow, you apologized, so--"

"So fuck off, female chauvinist pig," I said, and got the hell away from her. I spent thirty minutes talking with the wife of a science fiction writer. Her husband was for real; a magazine called ANALOG had asked him to do an article on the Apollo 14 liftoff for them.

Somebody called her over to clear up some point they were discussing and that her husband was fuzzy about. He was getting, as a matter-of-fact, fuzzier and fuzzier. Everybody knows writers drink a lot, although I met one once who didn't. He compensated by eating one apple after another and talking about how dumb it was to drink and how he didn't need it. I think of him as an apple-holic.

Suddenly a pair of naily hands were gripping me from behind. By the ass. One on each cheek. I stood very still.

"That you, Jerry? Bill? Pete? Henry?" I asked, without looking around. I figured Joretta must've come in while I wasn't looking, and I thought I'd break her up.

"Nobody ever told me to fuck off before," a voice purred, close to my ear. "That's what women tell pushy men."

"So I don't play by the rules," I said, rolling my eyes this way and that to see who was noticing that I had been ass-grabbed. Nobody, apparently. Frodo or whatever his name was was entertaining, telling some kind of story, and four people were coming in the door, and the sf writer and his wife appeared to be on their way out.

"Seems to me we men should be able to say fuck off too," I told Maggie, still without turning. "After all, men have rights. Lord, all these years we've been so hung up, with vagina envy."

She chuckled. Her mouth was still close to my ear and she still had both hands full of my butt.

"Anyhow," I said, "you're liberated. You've been treated like a man, right? You better let go my ass or I'm gonna spin around and give you a swift kick in the balls."

She chuckled again. "I'm liberated enough to say this is a lousy dull party and I know about another and why don't we go to it?"

I thought about that, thinking maybe one of us was nuts. Well, so what. Another party was another party, and Maggie wasn't a date. I wouldn't have to stick with her. I nodded.

"You'll come along, Mike?"

"Yeah. You haven't let go, though, you masher! How about if you sort of drift out and I will in a few minutes, OK?"

"OK," she said, and gave my cheeks a squeeze, then let them go. I stood still while she walked around me and straight to the door and out. Five or six minutes later, I followed. She was standing against a lamp-pole outside, with one long red-clad leg sticking out of the center slit of her skirt.

"Hey, baby," I said, "how much for all night?"

She laughed, ignored my proffered arm, and we walked. She strode along beside me with a clap-clap of her booted heels. We walked two and a half blocks in silence, and sure enough, the .other party was a wild swinging affair with real people and phonies who were at least pleasantly so. We mingled.

At something like one a.m. Maggie told me she had a man. Surprised, I shook hands with Bob, who was with Newsmonth magazine. We started talking about this and that, and I said yeah, Maggie'd brought me over here from the other "party," and within about thirty minutes he had laid his problem on me.

He was on assignment, of course. Maggie was a girl he knew in New York. She was a dancer and actress, meaning she collected unemployment and did a lot of hoping. He'd brought her down here for company and sex-and quickly learned that she couldn't get enough of either. She thought she was into femlib, but what she wanted was to be balled, with force. Bob was about shot. Offering to help out seemed the only decent thing to do.

I found the bathroom and let out a bottle or two of Busch Bavarian, then went back in and found Maggie. She was on the outskirts of a four-person conversational group, and she was listening. I came up behind her and clamped my hands on her ass cheeks. Aside from tightening those already tight round balls reflexively, she didn't react. I mean no gasp, scream, or even a little forward start.

"That you Agnes?" she asked. "Mary? Pat? Ethel?"

"Bob and I want to take you to another party," I said.

She glanced-around, moving only her neck. "Another party? Whose? Where?"

"It's a liberation party," I muttered, fondling her buttocks with force. "Mine. In my motel room."

"All-three of us?"

"Uh-huh."

"Christ, that IS liberated. I'll just go visit the bathroom first:'

"Meet you outside," I said, and let go.

Twenty minutes later we were all entering my room-my busy room-at the Poontang I mean Ping Pong Motel.

"Now what do we do?" Maggie asked innocently, looking all around and playing country girl. "There are only two chairs in this place."

Behind her, I pulled both her arms back. "Gotcha," I said in a surly voice and did an Arte Johnson Dirty-Old-Man laugh. "Getter clothes off, Spike."

"Yeh, right, Rocky," Bob said, and started opening up her vest.

Maggie considered, I. am sure. And decided. She made a brief little chuckling sound and stood still. I hadn't really grabbed her arms, and I wasn't holding them tight. But she joined the game. By the time he had her vest open, though, I was being fondled by the hands I held behind her back. I felt her little quiver when she discovered that I was at least halferect.

"Too damned much light in here," I said. "How about turning on the one in the bathroom, Bob?"

He nodded, and did, then closed the door, apparently having realized that he had some drinks in him that wanted out. Now Maggie pulled her wrists out of my hands and turned around. Her vest hung loose and the curving rounds of her breasts were both pretty and restless.

"You're terrible," she said.

"True," I said, clamping my hands onto her waist just above her hips. She leaned against me, reaching a hand past me to flip off the light.

"Good God," I said, "now I can't see a damned thing!"

"You can feel, can't you?" she said in a low voice. Her hands moved to the crotch of my pants, played there a moment, checking the equipment, then moved up to work on my shirt buttons. I wondered if she had a hang-up about sexing with the lights on. Maybe she was trying to liberate herself of some old guilt-feelings about sex and thought it was OK so long as she couldn't see and be seen?

By the time we heard the toilet flush I was minus shirt and pants and shoes and she wore only the red tights and her boots. Light flared when Bob opened the bathroom door. Both hands full of breast, I looked at him over her shoulder. He smiled.

"What's going on in here?" Bob asked.

"We started the party without you," Maggie gasped. I was pinching both her nipples, not really hard but just enough to make her nervous and shivery. "This is a forceful man. I've tired you out and you wanted help, didn't you?"

I couldn't help laughing. I don't know whether Bob would have lied or not, but I appreciated her cleverness and her frankness. "She's onto us, Spike," I rasped.

"What the heck can two men do with one woman?" Maggie wondered aloud.

"Drag her over to the bed," I said, "and rough her up and screw hell out of her." I slid a hand down to see if there was a split in the crotch of her scarlet pantyhose. There was. And I tickled a finger into it. I also tickled it into her. She grunted and I grinned. She was juicy inside, practically flowing with oily glandular lubrication.

I tickled my finger inside her wet pussy. Thrills of sensual temptation made her jerk and moan in obvious carnal need. There was no doubt of that, not with the slushy fluid that ebbed and seeped from her sensitized inner female parts.

It was almost dark in that room, and almost light, like twilight, with the illumination filtering in from the open bathroom door. I could see her tongue when it slicked over her lips, and I could see the glint in her eyes. Then I felt her hand. She reached between us to grasp my cock. She slid her hand up and down, jerking the long shaft gently and sliding her fist down to my balls. They were still encased in my shorts, but she kneaded them with her fingers, playing with the furry scrotum and heightening my lust for her hot wet inner deeps.

She tugged, and I popped my finger from within her and came willingly. Nearly as tall as I, she hunched herself to me. Her fingers gripped the long pole she wanted and needed. Very warm, it pulsed in her hand. She pulled until its silky crown brushed over the softness of her pubic hair.

"Hahhh," she gasped, and she shuddered. This strange woman, I realized, loved with pure sensuous abandon the touch of virile sexual skin against her own. With the head poked within her pantyhose flap, my cock throbbed against the slash of her cunt.

A movement behind her made me lift my eyes over her shoulder. Bob was starting forward. But he stopped to get out of his clothes.

Arching her back in a movement calculated to jut her ripe breasts, his traveling companion gripped me by the hips. She raised herself a little, onto her booted toes. Then, with a smile while her eyes held mine, she slid forward. It was beautiful, standing up.

The thick length of my penis crushed between the soft pink folds of her yearning vulva and impaled her instantly with bulgy cock.

"Oh . . . baby. . . . " she sighed.

Behind her, Bob went back into the bathroom on sock feet. He was naked, his cock was stretched out in about a three-quarter erection. Meanwhile I stood there while Maggie held me with a hand on each hip, while she moved her body sinuously. Her cunt moved over my prick in little semi-circular undulations. Both of us smiled with contentment at the soothing feeling of united genitals.

Bob came walking back out of the bathroom with his cock up and waving high. It glistened and shone, making me realize that he had learned my debility. I have a dry skin problem and carry W-t Lotion around with me wherever I go. He had seen it and smeared it on his penis . . . and was walking silently up behind the girl standing impaled on my cocky spike.

I slid my arms around Maggie and pulled her close. I held her there, tightly while she sighed and ran her tongue into my ear. And Bob pulled apart her buttocks and ran his well-greased cock up her rear.

Her scream deafened me in that ear for several minutes. She also rammed against me so hard that I staggered back and rammed into the door. It slammed noisily and I had something else to worry about: like, what was that door doing open?

She was squealing and tearing at me with her hands and writhing violently against me, involuntarily plunging and circling on my impaling cock because he had followed quickly and was now trying to poke her in the anus again. I was also aware of another squeal, also in a female voice.

The door opened against my back.

"Good God!" Maggie cried.

"Bob-we've got company!" I snapped. I didn't know who the hell was coming in that door, but just for the record the grrrreat state of Florida defines ass-fucking as Crime Against Nature and "abominable and detestable." And it'll get you a stretch in the State pen "not exceeding twenty years." If we were ; being raided, I didn't want to see Bob dragged off by the Florida cops for the next score or so years.

Besides, I didn't know what the. penalty was for an accessory, and I was holding Maggie.

As the door pressured my back, I let go of her and stepped back into the corner formed by the door and the wall. It was amazing how almost respectable she looked, standing there wearing boots and pantyhose. The flap closed all by itself.

But it wasn't a raid. Not by the police, at any rate. Through the open door came Joretta and Kate, car. tying bottles and ice and that damned extra key to my room that Joretta had hung onto.

"Hey, great," she called, looking about at us. "A party! You poor thing-these two terrible males got you outnumbered, huh? Well, no morel Hi, I'm Joretta," she called, and lunged after Bob, who was retreating to the bathroom. She bopped him across the butt with a bottle.

"Youch!" he bellowed, skipping a step. He turned around and grabbed the bag of ice out of her other hand and, all in the same swift angry motion, belted her hip with it. She staggered, squeaked, and fell onto the bed. Her legs flew high.

"Oh, oh, Jo," Kate called, "you forgot to put on any pants when you changed into your clothes!" Then Kate's eyes swerved and she saw me. She hefted the bottle of soda she carried. There was a maliciously mischievous look in her eyes.

"Here, you fat-titted bitch," my mostly naked Maggie snarled, "don't you dare strike that poor naked manl" Her left hand slapped Kate's wrist and clamped. Her right swung around Kate's big hip' and slapped her fanny. Kate yelped and grabbed a handful of Maggie's long blonde hair.

I stood there in the corner and stared. The bottle of soda rose high and then was suddenly flying through the air. And if anyone ever tells Joe Namath how I caught that unintentional pass, I'll have a whole new career going for me. I clutched it to me, gasping and panting-and watching as Kate and Maggie staggered, snarling and grabbing, and Maggie's legs rammed the bed, and-both of them toppled onto it. It was still occupied by a floundering Joretta. Also, partially, by Bob, who had one knee on the bed beside her and was about to give her another angry swat.

He looked up, his eyes widened, and then both his and Kate's eyes crossed as their heads cracked together. The four bodies on the bed became a drunken artist's conception of varicolored, writhing worms. I stared helplessly. I had to glance around, briefly, to make sure that this was still my quiet peaceful motel room. Yes. And that was my bed. With four people on it. Flying legs and arms and hair and the beguiling sight of Joreta's naked pussy.

I started to bellow at them. I considered leaving. Instead, I set down the bottle of soda and launched myself at the bed.

The first bobbing ass cheek I smacked with a hard-swung palm was bright red, meaning it belonged to Maggie. The other one I hit with my other hand, all in the same lunge, was white pantied and differently angled: Kate's. Fresh cries and kitten noises came out of the tangle of bodies and I missed being kicked in the crotch by no more than two inches. Then I seized a leg and pulled.

The loud slapping sounds got through to Maggie, Bob, and Kate soon enough, and the three disheveled combatants were suddenly all staring my way. I sat in the room's one large chair. With Joretta across my thighs. Slapping hell out of her totally naked ass.

She squealed, kicked, flailed, and begged. But I damn well didn't stop or let go until I had landed twenty or so blazing wallops across her bobbing rump. I was delighted to see the skin take on a beautiful rosy hue. Very estheticaly pleasing.

"Beat the pants off her!" Maggie cheered, up on her hands and knees.

"She doesn't have any ON, you long-legged hussy!" Kate cried, backing up the ridiculously old-fashioned word by slapping Maggie hard across the upturned butt. With a squeal, Maggie lunged forward. Her palms, planted at the edge of the bed, slid off. Kate landed another blistering smack on the blonde's pantyhosed tail as she slid helplessly off the bed.

Then Bob, totally naked, grabbed Kate, totally clothed. He swung her around until her squirming, white-pantied rear was in position, and then he started slapping.

Joretta, meanwhile, took out her pains and humiliation on the nearest available object, rather than on its cause. On the sprawled Maggie, in other words, rather than on me. Joretta slapped her face. Maggie jerked her head away, then up, and stared briefly at the girl hanging over my legs. Then she slid her hand into Joretta's mass of red hair and jerked. Joretta kicked, flailing her legs in a mindless attempt to save herself. One of her feet got me. We went off the chair together.

Next thing I knew I was entangled on the floor with two slippery slithering females intent on knocking and scratching hell out of the other, and I was getting several of the blows and scratches. On the bed, Bob was happily pounding Kate's bouncy butt.

We squirmed and wallowed. I slapped a tight ass cheek and tugged at a mass of hair. A pair of thighs suddenly clamped my other hand. The thighs were naked I jerked my thumb upward between them.

"Unnnh!" Joretta grunted, as my thumb ran up into her vaginal pocket. Maggie's bottom bounced against my other wrist.

"Stop it Maggie, dammit!" I ordered, and hooked my fingers into the elastic top of her pantyhose. I yanked them down far enough to get my hand in and under her buttocks. Then I buried a thumb in her, too. I started joggling both arms enthusiastically.

"Ugh ah oh uh-o-o-o-oooh-oh wow-yunnnhhh . . . " The weird variety of unintelligible noises came in two different voices as I subjected both girls to a new version of the thumb-screw. The tangled insanity of a wrestling match swiftly became an erotic troika. By the time both girls had subsided and were getting limp, panting and hunching my hands, there were no longer any slapping sounds emanating from the bed. I got my head from under a firm calf and raised it to look.

Bob and Kate were entangled, but in a totally different way from what I'd expected. They were kissing and pawing each other up like a couple of panthers in the mating season.

Eventually we got ourselves sorted out, and I got them to believe that we were all friends. By that time I had two thumbs well-smeared with pussy juice and Kate was minus her blouse and her big naked jugs were bouncing all over Bob's face and he and she were panting and hunching each other.

The room had gotten a hell of a lot smaller, and it was Joretta, bless her, who suggested that since we were all friends, now, we go over to her place.

We all attired ourselves in the bare minimum necessary for the short drive. I opened the door.

Kystele smiled at me "'allo, we came to-oooh! You 'ave company! Ess eet a party?"

Beside her stood Raoul, looking as sad as she had earlier. Or rather, yesterday.

"I, uh-understand now," Kystele said, looking demurely down. "I had needs, as you know, and I, ah, was tres desolee-pardon me, angry I mean-that Raoul would not-you know. Respond. But now I understand. Poor man. He, ah, prefers male company to female."

Joretta bustled past me and took each of them warmly by an arm.

"No problem," that take-charge redhead enthused. "My neighbor across the hall swings both ways, and a real French homosexual-oh wow! It'll be a real groove for him! Unless . . . unless you mind his wife?" she asked Raoul nervously.

Raoul was incapable of answering, but as it turned out, a few minutes later, he didn't mind Jack's wife and Jack's wife didn't mind Raoul. Unfortunately we couldn't get her to join the party. She said she had a headache.

"It's a dam' waste, is what it is," Kate grumbled, handing me a beer. Nearby, Joretta was mixing drinks in the kitchen of the nice apartment the two girls shared. 'Damn! There's Joretta, and she's got first claim to you anyhow. And that eight-foot blonde broad. And now the little Frenchy. Four of us-and two males, and damnittohell right across the hall are two perfectly good males going totally to waste!"

"Joretta," I said, "does not have first claim. If she hadn't pocketed that key Bob and Maggie and I would still be having a quiet private party back at my room."

Joretta spun around. "Well I like that! And after I've given you my all and brought you a present last night, tool Hmp!" She swung on Kate. "And you, you dummy, what're you doing back here? You and Bob were making it beautifully. Now you've left him in the other room with those two predatory women!"

"Yipe!" Kate cried, and hurried past me, patting my crotch on the way.

"You ought to call somebody a predatory woman, Joretta, you--"

She slapped a hand to her hip and stared at me. "You what?"

I started. laughing. "You impossible doll," I said, and wrapped an arm around her.

We sort of forgot about the others for several minutes, until Maggie's voice came loud in my ear.

"What the hell are you two doing in here, you sneaks! I thought you were my date, Mike whatsyername!"

Joretta and I pulled slightly apart and stared at the tall blonde. Maggie bit her lip.

"You know what's going on in there? Do you?" She shook her head. "What the hell kind of friends do you HAVE anyhow, Mike? That nasty little French slut is in there sucking on the big-titted one's big tits, and she's got a hand up her vaj, and the big-titted one's eating her out!"

Joretta grinned, shaking her head. "The big-titted one's name's Kate, honey. And she's like Jack, across the hall. She swings both ways. Marvy-I'd forgotten all about it. But what about that guy Bob?"

"He's sitting in the corner sulking and drinking."

I patted a femme bottom with each hand. "You two go in there and get 'im quick! Give him the works, understand? And meet me in the bedroom."

"Anything I like," Joretta said, sliding an arm around Maggie and heading out of the kitchen, "it's a take-charge guy."

I couldn't even answer. If it weren't for her damned take-charge bustling,-Bob and I'd be back at the Ping Pong, enjoying a Maggie sandwich. But I went on into the girls' bedroom, which was separated from the living room by the diminutive kitchen. I field-stripped the bed of counterpane and topsheet in one sweeping jerk. Then I lit the stubby little scented candles I found, five of them. I sniffed. Patchouli. I wondered if they liked that scent or used it for the usual purpose: covering up the sweet scent of burning grass. They still weren't there, so I field-stripped me and took up a post just inside the doorway, with my back against the wall.

The three of them came along soon enough, jamming up for a moment in the doorway. Then Joretta came into the bedroom, minus her skirt and with her blouse hanging open. Her arm was behind her, her hand entwined in Bob's. He followed swiftly, pantsless and with his shirt flapping in the same way as her blouse. He too had a hand back, and after him came Maggie-whom I grabbed.

"Yeep!" she squeaked, but that didn't last when she got over her momentary stare.

"Now as I was saying before we were interrupted--"

I said, and this time I stabbed my cock through the big slit up the front of her skirt and then through the smaller one in her pantyhose. And then into the even smaller one of her loins. Soft lips furled in and back and my cock ran straight into her.

"Ummmm-yes, that's exactly what you were saying!" she sighed, and plastered herself to me.

Over her shoulder I saw Joretta, pausing with one knee on the bed. She was staring at us. Right behind her was Bob, also gazing our way. I slipped both my hands around Maggie and onto her ass, deliberately showing Jo and Bob how hard I pulled her against me.

Bob grinned. Then Joretta ran her tongue out at me. And reached back with one hand to wrap her fingers around Bob's erection. He followed her onto the bed.

I gave Maggie's snug little snatch several warm deep pumps, then slid out of her. "Get out of that damned skirt and boots," I said.

She accomplished that in what must have been record time. Then she turned grinning to me and I was plugged in again, also in record time. It was fun; I had never experienced a standing screw with someone so close to my own height before. I pushed, feeling the lovely warm clamp of her labia, so wet and slippery and yet so firm and tight-and strong-tight around the shaft of my cock. Her hands slithered on my buttocks and she grinned into my face.

Unfortunately she was an inch shorter without her boots, and I had to bend my knees to achieve the proper connection and angle. That, I knew, would have my calves quivering like a tightrope in a few seconds. Besides . . . I was looking past her.

Bob and Joretta had lost no time in preliminaries-such as getting acquainted. They were both on their sides, stretched in opposite directions. I could see her dainty pink tongue sliding over the hard, massy shaft of his cock. Meanwhile she was quivering and sighing while he buried his face in her crotch. When she nibbled gently at him, he groaned and tensed his buttocks together. She was toying with them with one careless hand. I watched her run her fingers lovingly over his butt and her lips and tongue lovingly over his meat.

"Turn your head and look," I whispered.

Maggie did She quivered and clutched me tighter and jacked herself up and down on her toes several times, giving herself some extra internal prodding.

"Let's join them," I whispered.

"But-we'll have to unplug," she said sorrowfully, turning her face back to me.

"Not if you're as light-boned as you look," I said, and cupped my hands firmly under the scarlet-clothed cheeks of her bottom. She was as light-boned as she looked. I picked her up, keeping my penis up inside her. It wasn't exactly like walking down the street, but I was able to carry her that way, jogging along on my cock and projected before me. Carefully, I walked to the bed. My prick jogged in her with every step and she moaned and clung to me with both arms around my neck and her breasts squashed on my chest.

Then I fell forward onto the bed.

She made a long gurgling gasping noise as I came down atop her with a force that gave her absolutely every inch of hard meaty root I had, all the way up her torrid cunt.

The other noises were surprised grunts from the bed's incumbents. I assumed that the hand that patted my naked ass was Joretta's. It went away, but Maggie's was immediately there to replace it. I felt Joretta's thigh against my leg and was careful to keep from elbowing Bob's leg.

Maggie 'squirmed happily beneath me and lifted a firm-fleshed calf over the back of my leg. I pulled back, then hunched to send my cock into her again, driving through the soft damp lips and wallowing within her until I was again buried all the way up in her quivering, wet vagina.

My balls ached with the persistent hunger and torment of overstimulation. Their hope of blowing their load had been up and down Me a yoyo for the past hour. Now I ground down on her, into her, and both of us smiled in delight. I felt the sweating wetness of her fingers, sliding and slipping on my sweaty hips. She pulled, as if the big head of my cock weren't already planted securely, in the tightly constricting depths of her flowing pussy.

Beside me, I heard the gagging gasps as Joretta came. Remaining deeply joined but motionless, Maggie and I turned our heads to watch. We saw Bob's head damped between the climaxing redhead's straining thighs. He too gasped. His eyes bulged. Then those tight white thighs sagged visibly. Bob's head vanished.

We heard their whispering, but paid them no attention as I beat down on the long lithe body under mine, whipping myself in and out of the clinging softness of her gash and building a burning sensation in her. She kicked and squealed joyously. She jerked her legs up, so that our bodies were locked and writhing in passion.

She sighed and groaned, her naked, glistening body responding with sexual hunger to the pounding piston within her. I lunged and ground. My chest crushed her breasts upward and outward. Our sweating bodies slapped wetly, hotly together in a carnal rhythm.

"Remember what I did last night?" a voice whispered in my ear.

I groaned and rammed harder. "Well I liked it," Joretta whispered, and I'm-going to do it again." She bent her head past me and surprised Maggie by kissing her on the lips. Then she backed away. I felt a little tingle of anticipation in my bowels.

But Bob was up on the other side of us, and the hard throbbing prod I felt against my thigh told me that Joretta hadn't finished him off with her mouth. He gestured. At the same time Joretta tugged at my butt. I rolled that way, taking Maggie with me so that she lay on her side with her back to Bob.

She screamed and clutched me with all her strength when he again ran his cock up her ass. I felt it go in, or come in, all the way. His big hard-on was separated from mine only by soft inner membrane like wet tissue paper. That hard hot cock pressing mine through her dually-plugged body sent my excitement level rushing up to the top of the gauge.

"Aa-g-gaaaaa ah ah ah us-um-uh-oh," Maggie gasped. And she came with a hard prick pounding in her pussy and another gliding up her ass.

"AH!" I gasped, now, for Joretta's hands parted my buttocks and I felt first her breath, then her tongue in the hot furrow. I arched my body, straining like a stretching cat, engulfing myself deeply in Maggie as I strove involuntarily to jerk away from the warm wet tongue playing over my anus.

Maggie lay there with mouth agape while my prick pounded her pussy and Bob's entrenched itself in her ass-hole. We were forced into a push-pull rhythm, so that Bob pushed while I pulled. Then, as he eased his cock back out of her anal tube for the next inward drive, I thrust up her tight-forced cunt. Gasping and sighing and moaning, quivering violently, Maggie seemed trying to move in every direction at once. My own movements were accelerated by the tongue that slithered around in the crack of my butt and poked itself into my anus.

Then a voice cried "So HERE they are-wow, look at that can of worms!" It was Kate, and the already crowded bed was suddenly assaulted by two more naked bodies as she and Kystele came aboard. Suddenly there were unidentifiable hands and fingers and mouths and tongues doing everything to everyone and all I am totally certain of is that I shot off some of my cum into Maggie's belly and some onto her belly, and someone caught the next spurt or two in her mouth and lapped up what glistened on Maggie's jerking and shuddering body and it was all the wildest sexual night I had ever experienced and we went on and on with it.

Sometime around four o'clock I was sprawling on the floor with Kystele there, playing with my flaccid prick, and I remembered to ask her what about the two bloodhounds daddy had sent along to keep her out of just the sort of mischief she was busily and enthusiastically engaging in.

Kystele grinned. Ah, she told me, there would be no more worry or trouble from that quarter! When she'd gone back to her room from mine at six p.m.-which seemed days ago-she found Madame Hippo in the shower with Monsieur Scrawny.

"They weel not be making any negative reports to papa," she chuckled, flopping my prick around.

A moment-later she was gone-Kate pulled her away and turned her over to fuck that receptive French ass with the handle of a hair brush. And Joretta was on her hands and knees beside me, tonguing and sucking and even biting at my diminutive nipples, while Maggie warmed my prick in her mouth. A few feet away Bob lay sprawled on his back, snoring softly. Kate woke him by playing a bit with his penis, then sucking it up.

By that time I was pulling and squeezing and jerking at Joretta's tits while whipping my other hand up and down to finger-fuck her. And hunching wildly into Maggie's warm sucking mouth

CHAPTER SIX

By eight a.m. everybody in that apartment was totally fucked out and had got in about an hour of sleep apiece. And the last Press buses left for the launch site at 11:30. We groaned.

We didn't sleep. We just whomped up coffee and about a million eggs and most of the meat in Joretta's and Kate's apartment. We all also insisted on leaving some money in the imagine bowl on the tv. Joretta, bless her, drove us to the motel to do things like shave and shower and get into different clothes. We had to drag Raoul, who said to 'ell wis se launch, he was turned onto both Joretta's gay neighbor AND his wife!

We got to the Press Center just in time to pile aboard the last bus out to the launch-site.

The big bleacher-structure for the Press was roofed, huge, and ornately constructed. There were even jacks for telephones all over the place. Between that and It was a sandy, lightly grassed spit of land and beyond that greenish-blue water: the Indian River. (Nearby was the Banana River. I heard a science fiction writer named Clement say that there were no Indians, and no bananas, and that furthermore neither of those overgrown creeks was a river.)

Then there was more real-estate, the other shore. And more concrete. Then . . . Big Apollo 14. It was enormous. I knew it was three and a half miles away-the closest safe distance unless you want busted eardrums. But my eyes refused to send that message to my brain; even from here it looked too big to be that far away.

Out on the sandspit on our shore was the timer, an enormous digital clock that reminded me of the ones on football fields. It showed hours, minutes, and seconds. Of course it was blinking constantly as, second by second, we crept closer to launch-time: T. Now it was T minus 3:28:54, the countdown resuming at ll:54, and the loudspeakers said everything was Go.

The place was full of people. Very colorful. How pretty the people of my country are now that men dare wear reds and golds and hot blues and so on, rather than the drab gray-blue-brown of a few years ago! Then there were thousands and thousands of dollars worth of photographic equipment. I sat there in the bleaches with big eyes. Just below me, two tiers down, a man was using his telephone. He was speaking French. He wore a black beret and a green turtleneck and a blue cord suit. The man across the aisle from him was typing. The man beside him was Japanese. The four men just in front of and below me were South Americans, here via USIA. One of them had no camera, no pen, no paper, and was just sitting there with his knees up reading a paperback book titled MILE HIGH. I was at least taking notes!

And out there, across the river, way over there, It sat there in the embrace of its gantry, white and pure, pristine and untried. It will leave this planet, I mused, and never come back. Only the tiny part at the top will return, from the Moon. It sat there waiting. And I waited. We all waited. And the goddam clouds kept forming, over there to my left.

There was a bug in my paper cup of coffee. A BUG-it was five degrees when I left Chicago!

A helicopter putt-putted above cars with flashing lights on top, a long line of them. They were all white, and three of them were panel-wagons with N A S A on their sides, in blue. Each was separated by a car with a bubble-gum machine on top, turning bluely. In each of those panel wagons was an astronaut, heading out to It to get aboard, nearly three hours before launch. I wondered why the first panel wagon stopped, and it looked as if it had been stopped by Security!(There was a rumor about a bomb scare, and Security was uptight; they had stopped our bus and made us all show our pink Press cards.) I wondered why they were stopping the astronauts-could Shepard have left his clearance card in his other pants? Or maybe they were bringing him something he needed ("I will not go without my black crayon!")

There was a lot of noise, people talking and photographic gear whirring and clanking and typers typing. The sun was still very much around, but that damned cloud was. coming in. It held up the launch for hours, remember? Anyhow, Kystele and I walked out onto the promontory to see and talk with some strangers, and we lay down on the bank above the river, watching the geese and thinking boy were they in for a shock, and we fell asleep out there in the warm sun.

The loudspeakers and the gulls woke us up. She went back up to the Press Grandstand and I wandered around. I talked to a few strangers. It was that kind of day. Everybody was a friend. Everybody was scared, in point of fact, and nervous, but none of us wanted to admit it, not even to ourselves.

"Oh hello," a huge woman said, squinting through her steel specs at my badge. "I see you're from Chicago. This your first launch, Mister Milford?"

I nodded with a smile; funny question! "Yes, and I feel like there are ants wandering all around in my stomach."

She laughed. "Yes, I know about that." She shoved out a big hand like a man, and I shook it She was Doctor Kittleson, reporter for a magazine called "Everybody's Science." And that big girl over there, sitting on her jacket on the ground, was her daughter Sara. She sat there reading a science fiction novel and acting agitated. I noticed she kept looking up and across the river at Apollo 14, and shuddering.

She was a brain, and about five six, and built very big, like a singer in an opera by Wagner. I wondered how she'd look with those iron tit-cups on and long blonde braids hanging down, carrying a spear, maybe. I also wondered why the-why it seemed to shake her up so much.

I stayed there talking with them, mostly with Sara now while Mama got her cameras ready. Sara was very excited. Then the countdown re-started at T minus 00-08-02. Eight minutes and two seconds to go,with people sitting around in their living rooms all over the country, on a nice Sunday afternoon, wondering when in hell Florida weather was going to let them see Big 14 do its thing. Soon!

A minute or so later it started to rain. Doctor-Mama Kittleson ordered Sara to share her raincoat with me. Sara smiled and nodded. She had beautiful chocolate eyes and a big dimple in her chin and a very strong jaw. Her brown hair was brushed to lie straight down in two long sheaves over her breasts. They bulged like a matron's, in one continuous rounded ridge across the front of her blouse. She had a big warm hip when I got under her raincoat with her. We waited. Under the coat, like excited kids, we held hands.

Her hand was hot and sweaty. Her hip was hot against mine, even through her skirt. She trembled all over. Her eyes were fixed glazedly on the long standing shape of Apollo 14.

The long standing shape. . . .

"Phallic, isn't it?" I said casually, without looking at her.

That was it. She shuddered violently. Her mouth dropped open and her sigh came out vocally, a soft moan. Her hand suddenly squeezed mine with one hell of a lot of strength.

" . . . five . . . four . . . three . . . " The loudspeaker blared out the final countdown, and every throat there was shouting them out right along with it. The light rain continued.

Oh my God.

The color has never been captured, not truly, on film or color TV. It has never looked the way it did while I stood there watching it. I mean watching It. First a great flattened oval flared out beneath the tall phallic shape of Apollo 14. It was a bright, beautiful golden. It blossomed out to both sides, trying to escape. The ship sat there on it, sat on that billowing oval of yellow fire. Smoke began to swirl out and up from its outer perimeter.

Then the oval of flame seemed to grow fatter, becoming more circular, because we were seeing more of it, because . . . Apollo 14 was moving.

Slowly, lazily, it lifted, moved, up a little. Acting as if it were wondering: Hm, Do I really want to leave all this nice Florida weather? Lord, what a hotfoot . . .

I stared, unable to take my eyes off that blossom of pure butter-and-liquid gold, now almost round, a big ball beneath the ship.

Then Apollo 14 gave up, ceased resisting, and WENT.

The fiery oval became a circle, and then a fat long oval again, but this time standing on end, dancing beneath the rising rocket without changing its color one degree. All around us people were screaming and applauding.

I was silent. Oh, maybe I groaned some. But that was because the big girl beside me had released her deathgrip on my hand. And grabbed my cock. She acted like she was trying to tear it off and take it home for a souvenir.

Big Fourteen leaped straight up, destroying the expensive camera that gave you a shot straight up into its tubes, for just a moment. And it vanished into that damned black cloud, standing on its fiery tail and . . . the rain stopped. It was mystic. Was Mama Nature scared? Embarrassed?

Then the sound came, while Sara Kittleson moaned and shook and clawed her tits and hung onto my penis. First, a sustained roar, a hell of a roar. Then a blat-blat-blat sound, along with the uproar. I stood there hearing it and staring at the pad The roiling smoke made it appear to be writhing in scorched pain. I saw a tall bearded man, standing there with a raincoat on-clever man-raising both hands and holding them palms facing back, in front of his ears, deflecting the sound He was another science fiction writer, I knew, a guy named Offutt.

And then, for the first time in my life, I FELT sound. It tapped steadily at my chest, inside and out, like tiny feet dancing, or the touch of a typist on a manual machine. The ground trembled slightly, and someone told me later he heard creaking and rattling in the Press grandstand.

It was gone. Hanging onto my crotch, Sara stood there with me under the raincoat, groaning and trembling. Mighty phallic, that Apollo. A moving, fiery cock-shape, 363 feet long!

There was going to be a press conference, and Mama Kittleson had gone off to talk with some other science-types. She had already offered to take me back to the Poontang. She had a VW bus in the parking lot very nearby, and that way I wouldn't have to ride the slower NASA buses.

Without a word, Sara and I headed for the parking lot. People were milling and talking. We got to the bus. Sara practically dragged me into the bus slammed the door, pulled the curtains, and started in raping me.

The VW bus was set up as living quarters, and they slept in it. No bed; there was a big mattress behind the driver's seat. That's where my superexcited Valkyrie with the long brown hair dragged me.

Swiftly her eager hands loosened my buckle and whipped down my pants. Her nostrils flared and her eyes flared and her mouth gaped. She was panting, and her face was red. She dragged my pants down my legs at the same time as she dropped to her knees with a tremendous bounce and shimmy of her springy tits. Her hands climbed my thighs again to slide my shorts down.

My throbbing, silky-headed prick sprang out and bobbed in the air before me. I felt the nudging pressure of her bulging lovegourds against the inner flesh of my naked thighs. She slurped my hard-on up into her mouth and tried to swallow it whole. I groaned and shivered.

I heard her throaty little gurgles of ecstasy as she stuffed her face with hardened flesh and sucked on it while playing with my balls with both eager hands. One hand slid through my thighs. Her fingers were tickling, roaming, threatening to penetrate my ass-hole.

My face tightened in a sudden change of expression and the tempo of. my breathing jumped as I felt the suction begin, all around my mouth-chambered tool. The suction mounted, pulling at my balls. My hips began jerking back and forth and my hands slid around the sides of her head I framed her face with them while I stroked the soft brown silkiness of-her hair and teased and pulled at her earlobes.

Her cheeks bulged around the thickness of the shaft filling her mouth. She began moving her head, and I watched the hard meaty root going in and out of her bulging mouth. Beautiful! I stood there and looked down at her, at the wet crown of her head and her trailing hair and her moving face. Watching the smooth hardness of my groin sluicing smoothly in and out of her circling lips and the hot cavern, in a blind drilling quest for her throat. Her hands continued manipulating my scrotum, sliding about in the crack of my ass, tickling at my anus and sneaking in, just the tip of her finger.

She slid her mouth back off my prick-pole with a sigh and I watched her lick her lips as she raised her eyes to my face. She started to rise, and I pulled her up and watched while she ran her fingers feverishly down the front of her blouse, flipping buttons open with machine-gun swiftness. She flipped her skirt open and it dropped, like a plumb-line.

She was reaching for her pretty little pink panties when I slid my hands over her hips and hooked my thumbs into the low-slung elastic band. She was humming, sighing, panting, and her face was still deeply flushed. There was sweat on the big white breasts heaving up out of her transparent, filmy bra, one of those nothing things that molded her tits only a little and showed the dark circles of red-brown aureoles very dearly.

She was violently aroused and panting, and I gave her a little extra violence. Something I knew she'd love, something to remember me and Apollo 14 by: a ruined brassiere. My hand hooked in the top of it, in the V between her breasts, and pulled it down with a rough jerk. The straps bit into her shoulders, she gasped and groaned and her eyes rolled, and cloth ripped.

A broken strap snapped out and bounced off my chest. Her flesh flinched and smarted as a fingernail traced a fiery goad down one satiny tit-globe. They leaped and shivered wildly until I flung the bra aside and raised my hands to capture the quivering, dangling teardrops.

"Ah oh-oh God--" She was sighing and groaning and muttering constantly Her hands grabbed mine and clammed my fingers into her tit-flesh. My hands moved relentlessly over them, pushing and rubbing, crushing the firm, ripe flesh, enveloping themselves in the softness-of all that big floppy softness.

I hadn't paid the slightest attention to the loins I had bared. Now I dropped one hand, ran it down over the swell of her belly and the deep round navel, and slid my fingers into her bush. It was damp. The lips within it were damp. The passage between them was more than damp, as I sent a finger easily up into her.

"Yaaaaagh! Gaaaa-ah, ohgod-oh-ohhhhl"

Her own hand grabbed my cock again. We hit the mattress with a heavy series of thumps and got it together and rammed at each other. She yelped, then rammed her feet out into the air and grabbed my head with both hands, gasping and moaning and kicking. Then she pivoted her hips and urged her pelvis upward with a jerk as my cock slid home, all the way into her wet pink vulva.

I lay there, hard and heavy on top of her, and bammed it in and out as fast and hard as I could, a dozen times. A series of shuddering convulsions seized her sweat-streaming body. She jerked and contorted and clutched me. I could feel those orgasmic tremors popping loose in her cuntal depths, one after another, all around my engulfed cock. Great jolting waves rushed through her, churning in her belly.

I held still, held her, while she came as explosively as the obvious first cause of her consuming excitement, Big 14.

"Ah God-oh thank God-good . . . ummmmm.. . . . . She wiggled under me. "Roll over. Please. Let me fuck you--"

We rolled over on the mattress. My prick stayed in her as she lay full length atop me, gripping my shoulders and sliding up and down. She kissed me, hard, pounded her butt up and down, and squashed her tits all over my chest. Then she pushed herself up, brought her legs up slowly outside my thighs, and got up onto her knees. Straddling my close-pressed thighs, with my stiff fuctifier still clamped well up in the hot wet chamber of her passion.

She rose slowly, holding me within her and staring at my face with bright, delighted and still extremely excited eyes. It was as if her violent orgasm had taken absolutely nothing out of her. Then she started moving. Writhing and plunging her big broad hips to savor the erotic joy of friction in her burning passion pit. Her ass slapped my thighs loud and hard enough for me to hear it. Her big brown-tipped jugs surged and bounced wildly, swinging to and fro. The tips were turgid, rosy and jutting from the brown aureoles like deeply pink beads. Her smooth, creamy belly thrust out and rippled with exquisite little shudders. Sighs issued in a steady stream from her parted lips.

She fucked me. She began easing up and down, quieting down a bit, and I watched her dangling breasts swing in small sexy arcs. The humid tunnel of her cunt felt as if its walls were striving to come together to crush my cock and force the hot juice out of it.

Her hand dropped and a finger doubled back to rub her clitoris.

"Nine," I said, hunching strongly upward.

She was still gasping and panting. "Wh-what?"

"Eight!" I said, watching her lasciviously agitate herself on the hot fleshy flagpole she rode.

She frowned, rubbing away at her clit and twisting on me with experienced downward thrusts. She was moaning with desire and coming down with a new jarring force. "What?"

"Seven! You're going to come again, right when I do blastoff, both of us straight to the moon--

"Ya-a-a-aarggghhhhh!" she cried grabbing one bouncing tit and twisting the nipple. Her body whipped up and down on mine. Her finger slicked about at the top of her cock-filled slit, rubbing and rubbing the pulsing nubbin of flesh of her clitoris. "Six!" she cried.

I slapped both hands against the mattress and flexed my butt. I began to jerk myself upward to meet her downthrusting body in the full tide of sexual arousal. My balls felt like they were boiling.

"Five!"

She squeezed her eyes shut and rolled her head to and fro, absorbing my hammering blows upward into her soggy cunt.

"Four!" I called.

"Christ-three!" she shivered. I felt the inner convulsions of her flesh as ecstasy thrilled through her genitals and made her belly writhe. Her hand seemed trying to ram her slit up into her belly at the same time as the other hand dragged the nipple off the end of her bobbing breast. The nipple was no longer pink, but violently red.

"Three . . . two!" I called out. I reached up and grabbed her other tit. She groaned and hunched a little forward, filling my hand with soft breast and hard thrusting nipple. I squeezed, hard, the way she wanted it.

She shuddered in exquisite spasms of bliss. I felt her body tightening about mine. She was coming again. I whipped upward with my left thigh and hip, at the same time dragging her heavily to the right. She squealed in a brief fearful disorientation, then toppled rightward onto the bed. Instantly I slithered atop her and rammed her with my powerful haunches in a madly abandoned fury that sank me far into the velvet softness of her squirming cunt.

I plunged my prick to the very depths of her vagina, shaking powerfully in and out while she writhed and gasped loudly beneath my humping body.

"One!" I called. I fucked her deep and fast and hard, banging my body down on hers and lovingly the impatiently impassioned, almost tortured writhing of her hips.

Our wild actions planted my cock in the burning core of her vagina where it began to flare up in roaring heat. She groaned, deep in her throat. Her legs quivered spasmodically. Her eyes flared prodigiously wide. My body beat down upon hers in an erotic madness, wet and noisy and savagely sensual.

Suddenly I felt it happening to her again. She was damping down hard with her cunt, involuntarily, and moaning out an ecstatic wail of fulfillment. Her body jerked, contorted, and went sweatily limp while her cunt continued its climactic pulsing.

Before her contractions had ended they had added the final milking pressure that made my balls burst in an excruciating orgasm. They salvoed hot white fluid into her in a jerking, cataclysmic release of lust. I sent jet after jet of my steaming seed throbbing up into her hot contracting pussy, and I sank full length on her, letting her feel my full weight. I knew it was a conforting pressure, now., Mama Kittleson showed up about five minutes later, knocking discreetly and asking from outside if Sara was all through! That about blew my mind. By that time I had slid off the big girl, and Sara was on her side, playing with my nipple.

"I sure am," she called back to her mother, and the two of us got swiftly back into our clothes. Then Sara unlatched the door.

Doctor Kittleson clambered up into the VW bus and into the driver's seat, beaming at us. Pulling out to join in the terrible traffic, she switched on the radio. I had heard it before; Spiro was talking. He was here too, for the launch, but I hadn't seen him. Shame. I've always wondered if he really does wear a Mickey Mouse watch.

"Mister Agnew and Prince Juan Carlos of Spain," Mama Kittleson said without glancing around at us, "were in the VIP viewing area." She chuckled. "Not as close as we."

"Hey," I grinned, "yeah! Nothing like being one up on Spiro and the next boss of Spain!" Then I remembered the girl beside me, and I made a mental amendment: unless that VIP viewing area was one hell of a swinging place, I was TWO up on the VP!

Doctor Kittleson managed to drive the ten miles to the motel in just over an hour and a half. Meanwhile, I learned later, some of the buses didn't get their passengers back for three or four hours. Traffic you wouldn't believe. The papers the next morning proclaimed that the whole area had contained one million visitors!

At last Mama K. nosed the VW bus up in front of the Ping Pong Motel, # 16.

She thanked me, very much, and so did Sara, and I got out and toddled in, wondering if I were dreaming. I stripped after turning on the TV-to watch the launch, of course-and flaked out. I was asleep in minutes.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Dave's banging on my door woke me at eight p.m. I let him in.

"Hey-I've been wondering where you've been, Mike! Christ, I've hardly seen you. You did make the launch?"

"Oh man, I was there! And I've just been taking a nap. Oh-how about the Saint Louis contingent?"

He sighed and lowered himself into the chair near the door. "All gone. They left right after lunch. Gonna drive all night, they said." He glanced around. "Want to check out and pack up and spend the night over at my place?"

"Uh . . . well, hell Dave, checkout time here's noon or two p.m. or something. I'll have to pay for tonight anyhow. Might as well keep the room. You gonna have another party?"

He sighed and looked down. He was sorry about that, Dave said. All his life he'd wanted to be in on a real party. And now . . . now the liquor was low and he was mighty short, and so was the femmy-nine companionship.

"Too bad you don't know anybody out here," he moaned.

I stood there staring at him, smiling a little. "Dave-you wanna have a party tonight? A post-launch party . . . a REAL party?"

"Sure, but I--"

"Stand by. Mike Milford Takes Charge!"

I started calling people, telling them that the big post-launch party was at Dave's, and that it was BYOB. I had to translate the phrase to the French: Bring Your Own Bottle. Dave sat there with his mouth open, watching me make call after call.

Then Dave waited while I got dressed, and he drove me over to the ABC liquor store. This was a sprawling, brightly lit place like a supermarket, a heaven for alcoholics. Cases and cases of beer piled up here and there. Aisle-end baskets with bottles seemingly dumped into them. And all the prices were better than sauce in Chicago.

We stocked up, some gin and beer and Jim Beam and rum-it's very inexpensive in Florida, so close to the source, but don't ever make the mistake of stocking up on Kentucky bourbon in Kentucky, where they soak you with taxes.

We went back over to his place, cleaned out the refrigerator to make room for mixers and beer, and he fried up some hamburgers while I inspected his closet. I found a purple shirt with a huge collar and three-button cuffs. He said he'd never worn it, but I practically forced him to swear to wear it tonight. Then I took over the hamburgers while he went to shower. He had orders to shampoo and do nothing to his hair except towel it.

While he was showering I went into the bathroom and stole his hair dressing and slid it into the bottom of the sack of trash in the kitchen. With his hair not slickered down, he looked a lot better. The purple shirt looked good, too-he said Joretta had given it to him last year, for Christmas, but after all-purple! I watched him button it up to his neck and get ready to hang a necktie around himself, and I scared him when I came at him with the butcher knife. But all I wanted to do was pare the first three buttons off the shirt.

"But-you ruined it! And now I can't wear a tie!"

"Right. Save the ties for business. They are unnecessary to human life. So are the buttons on shirts. Now go put on those striped bell bottoms I saw in your closet. Another present from Joretta?"

"Uh-yeah. How'd you know?"

"And you've never had 'em on, right, Dave?"

"Yes-s-s . . . but Mike, they won't even pull up to the waist! I mean they're tight, especially in the crotch and you have to wear them way down on the hips. . . . "

"Right, ole Davey Superstraight, and you go. put 'em on. Want a beer with these burgers?"

Within thirty minutes company started showing up.

Kystele, with Raoul and the other two, and the little guy, still wearing his beret, and Madame Hippo, whose name, for godsake, was Angelique. Lord! Kystele was wearing a very pretty silk scarf, which I took off and knotted around Dave's neck inside his collar. Sailor's square knot. It looked great. So did the tops of Kystele's breasts.

Then here came that big VW bus, bearing big Sara and bigger Mama and something Mama had picked up: a lesbian writer for some German paper. She did everything but wear a sign I AM A LESBIAN. IN CASE OF ACCIDENT, PLEASE GET ME A DILDO.

(The conversation with Doctor Kittleson came later on, but let's get it in right here. Mama Kittleson-her name was Sara, too-had tried heterosexuality long enough to have Sara. Then she'd gone back to lesbianism and stayed there. But she didn't want her daughter to have the same problems she'd had; there are some, whether you're a gay male or female. So, Mama Kittleson had been at considerable pains, for years, to orient Sara malely, heterosexually. It took, and that enormous phallic symbol of Apollo 14 had been just too much for Sara to be able to see without satisfaction.

(On the face of it, that may not sound too complimentary to me. But then I realized: how the hell many guys have been called on as stand-ins for a three-hundred-sixty-three-foot erection?! )

By the time Joretta's neighbors showed up, the rest of us were pretty high. Paul magnanimously turned his wife loose, sort of put her on loan, while he and Raoul renewed their acquaintance with each other.

I was talking with big Angelique at about midnight, calling her "Angel," which she thought was just simperily lovely. I discovered that she had used to be in the Folies, and I begged and cajoled and pleaded and threatened, and eventually she said "Wellllll. . . . "

So I climbed up on the couch and announced that we would be entertained by MADAMOISELLLE ANGELIQUE, star extraordinaire of the world-renowned Folies Bergere, en Paris. She grabbed the little guy with the beret-Francois, which is like Frank in English-and had a swig of his bottle. Then she started doing her thing.

It was awful. She had legs like Virginia hams, and I mean the ankles. Above that they were really big. Also she had neglected to put on any underwear, and she had the wildest blackest hairiest bush I've ever seen. But she was a game old girl. She tried like hell.

I was sitting on the couch between Kystele and Sara when I looked up and thought that Dave looked sort of lost. I beckoned. He came over.

"Join us," I said.

He swiveled his eyes. "Uh-no room," he said, although Sara and Kystele were doing their best to make room, snuggling up to me. I squeezed Sara's ample waist. "Get 'im on your lap, witch! Be hospitable-he's your host!"

"Uh-ouch! Oh here, Dave-let me. . . . " And Dave looked very surprised when Sara reached up and pulled him down onto her knees. He had to put an arm around her neck to keep from falling onto the floor.

"Listen," Dave said, squirming, "this is ridiculous! Let's get up and you sit on my knees!" Probably the bravest thing he ever said in his life.

She sighed, smiling. "Don't be silly. You're sweet, but I know damned well I'm a big girl. You wouldn't last ten minutes with me on your-oh look!"

I don't know what channel it was that Mama Kittleson had turned on. But the TV had been showing Apollo all night, and the liftoff had been on about eighty times. And now here it went again, and just as she got a picture the camera showed that big digital clock, and it said 00:00:01. And then Zonk-there she went again.

Or rather there they went again, Apollo 14 and Sara, both at once. Her hands clutched Dave as she stared, goggle-eyed. She started panting. I don't think she even knew it when her hand slid from his waist down to his crotch. Dave gasped and tried to act nonchalant. I smiled and slid a secret hand in and pinched her nipple.

Sara started bouncing up and down.

"Dave-Sara needs to be shown where the bathroom is," I said, stroking Kystele's back and noting that she was bare under her blouse.

"Oh-sorry;" Dave said. "It's right through there."

I knew where it was. You had to go through his bedroom to get to his bathroom. "SHOW her, Dave," I said. "His bathroom's right through the bedroom, Sara."

Sara moaned, panting and clutching. "Oh-show me, please!"

They left hurriedly. They wouldn't be coming back for awhile, of course, and they sure and hell wouldn't be going to the bathrooms

Sara's mother had been squatting over there by the TV, since turning it on. She glanced over at the couch and frowned. I smiled and waved a hand.

"You can turn it off now, Doctor K," I said "It took."

Still frowning, she turned it off and came over. I patted the couch beside me, and Kystele frowned, naturally wondering what the hell kind of thing I had going with this big woman of about fifty. Mama Kittleson sat gingerly, still frowning.

"Where's--"

I jerked a head. "You did it again, you witch. You wanted to turn her on, right? Make sure you had her programmed properly. You have. She went ape. She and Dave retired to the bedroom."

"Who's Dave?"

I sighed. "Your host, f'crisake! He was sitting on her lap." I leaned dose to murmur, "I think he's a virgin."

She beamed. "Oh," she said, bringing her big hands together, "oh, how sweet!" She glanced around. Saw the German writer, Helga, staring at us. Mama K got up quickly and hurried over to her. "Oh, Helga, listens The sweetest thing--"

"Michel?" Kystele asked, plucking at my sleeve. "What is going on? What was that all about?"

"Well," I started to say, but a hand came down onto my right shoulder and a face onto my left. Hair prickled. It was Paul's wife, Grace. She whispered.

"Are you and this chick going to make it, Chicago, or am I gonna get laid?"

I glanced around. Paul and Raoul seemed to have split. And Grace, Paul's wife, was bi. Apparently Kystele was too, based on last night, her and Kate.

"Sit down, Grace," I said. "Do you and Kystele know each other?"

Grace sort of flowed down onto the couch and leaned across me. "Wow," she said softly, "are you really French?"

"Why-yes," Kystele said, nodding. I still had an arm around her. With the other hand, I began fondling Grace's breast. Since she was bent over me, no one was-likely to know about it but us.

She settled down there to carry on a conversation with Kystele while getting her knockers fondled. My wandering fingers unbuttoned her blouse while my other hand pulled Kystele close. I was thinking hard, working out logistics.

But then the door burst open.

"HEY-DID YOU WAIT FOR US?" Joretta cried.

"Hell no-look, there's that damned sex-fiend Mike Milford over there on the couch with his usual two women," Kate cried.

They came romping in, carrying bottles, followed by another dancer from the club-not to mention the bouncer and the assistant bartender and some more bottles. The party got a lot noisier and a lot crazier.

Madame Hippo-I mean Angel-volunteered to teach Joretta and Kate and Pussycat-I never heard her called anything else-the can-can. The three of them volunteered to teach her the go-go. They found them amazingly similar, and. the fact that Angelique fell and jarred the whole damned house didn't dampen her at all. She just got up and wiggled some more.

After awhile I realized that Sara had rejoined the party, drinking her usual Coke, and eventually Dave straggled in from the bedroom too, looking like he was in shock, but not nearly as beat as I had expected. I grabbed him with one hand and Kate with the other.

"Here, Kate, you asked about the car. Here's the guy who owns that bomb. Dave, this is Kate. Kate, Dave."

"Oh, baby," she said, panting all over him and looking him up and down. "I am CRAZY about that groovy car outside, and I just KNEW the guy who drove it would dress like YOU!"

Dave gave me a sort of bewildered look. Then he started grinning. I think it was love at first sight. He fell in love with her size 40-D's. She fell in love with his car. Within ten minutes, they had vanished.

Something seemed to have happened to most of the lights, and I glanced around, squinting and blinking. The assistant bartender from The 2001 sat in the wingchair, and Kystele was curled up on his thighs with her arms around him. He had one hand in her blouse and the other up her dress. They were kissing like there was no tomorrow. Not two feet away, one of her guardians was flat on his back on the floor.

Still wearing his black beret and holding a half-empty bottle of Scotch in his hand, little Monsieur Boulevardier lay flat on his back. The third dancer, Pussycat, knelt beside him with her tail in the air. Obviously fascinated by a genuine certified Frenchman, she was dangling her breast in his face and teasing him by working her shoulders. He had his mouth wide open, his tongue out and moving, and his free hand up between her thighs. She was wearing white panties, and as well as I could tell in the darkness, he had two fingers well up her cant. She was riding them, bobbing her upturned rump while smacking his face with her breast.

Then I realized what those shadows and patches of moving paleness were, in the darkened kitchen. I edged over, moving slowly so as not to disturb everyone, to have a look.

I had a look. Madame Angelique Hippo, Kystele's other bodyguard, sat on the sink, and that big ass of hers must have hung most of the way down to the drain. Her big legs were wide open. And between them stood the burly bouncer, another Francophile of course. Both of them were fully clothed, but it was obvious that he was screwing hell out of that black-thicketed box she kept nestled between thighs like my waist.

She was grasping him and wagging her head, moaning, out of her head with carnal delirium. His hands were moving roughly over her big old breasts, flopping them up, and down and from side to side in soft, ponderous massiveness. His trousered buttocks flexed and surged as he rammed his cock all the way in, to the hairy hilt in her genuine French pastry. He squirmed and ground his hips wildly. I watched her pudgy white hands run feverishly over him as his hard flesh battered ever deeper into her.

How nice, I thought. She has a genuine American fuck to go home talking about, and he'll spend the rest of his life bragging about the Folies dancer he balled one night in '70! And I'll bet she loses ten or fifteen pounds every time he tells the story, until by '75 she'll be another Brigitte Bardot!

My straying eyes found another entanglement, and I sighed. Well, I'd had my chance. Paul's AC-DC wife, Grace, had after all offered me a tumble. Now she was getting plenty of attention-she and Mama Kittleson and the German writer-woman Helga were all three occupying the couch. The two older women seemed to have come to an agreement, and they were avidly and hungrily sharing the svelte younger body.

It was right then, thinking about what kind of staid, straight articles all these people would do for their scientific-minded readers, that I decided to write out this account of my adventures during the Apollo 14 weekend Maybe I can sell it to Popular Science, or Reader's Digest.

Kate and Dave, of course, were accounted for although not present. They were probably negotiating that center gearstick in his sexy little car, and I silently wished them luck.

Raoul and Paul, too, had departed. Paul's apartment, no doubt. Those two really dug privacy. I wonder if they're carrying on an international correspondence, and what it costs them, and which language they're using?

I looked further. And had to smile . . . that was Sara Kittleson, lying over there on the floor with her head half under the tv. Sound asleep. Apparently two normal cocks and a 363-footer in one day were her limit.

"Looking for somebody, lover?" a throaty voice, murmured behind me. A finger traced a long line down-my back and didn't stop when it got to my butt. I. grinned and turned slowly.

"Hi, Joretta."

"Hi yourself. This is getting to be the dullest party I've ever attended. I mean really, look at all these people."

"I just did," I grinned

She sighed. "Sure must be nice for all of them. Too bad you got left out"

"Too bad you got left out," I said.

She sighed again. "Yeah. All these good-looking men, too."

"You bitch!"

She lifted a hand to touch her chest. "Me? A b-you bastard! And after all I've done for you, too."

"After-you've interrupted things, busted up parties, barged in on me in the middle of the night-"

"Morning," she corrected.

"Morning when I was asleep, you've--"

She cocked her head to one side and smiled. "Ye-ess?"

I thought about it. "Let me take you away from all this."

Joretta laughed. "Hey, that's good! A marvy new line-you ought to put a patent on it!" She raised a finger quickly to set it against my angrily-opening mouth. "Ah-ah, don't say it. Yeah. Take me away from all this, Mike baby."

"Dave's bedroom?"

She chuckled. "I'll bet the bed will have a heart attack! It's never been used for anything but sleeping, surely."

"Boy," I said, tugging her across the room, "have I got something to tell you!"

But we stopped just in the bedroom doorway. We were too late. Somebody else had beat us to it, and probably about three minutes ago. Two somebodies.

Kystele knelt on the bed with her big shapely butt thrust backward. Her dress hung open in front and was furled up around her waist in back. As long as she was dressed, I thought, she mustn't have worried that this was "wicked." Poor girl and her hang-ups!

Just as Joretta and I got there, the assistant bartender from Joretta's dub was moving to stick his prick up the French girl's ass. We watched the blood-diffused head vanish as he shoved it in to puncture her uncringing ass-hole.

Joretta jerked as if she'd been goosed Her hand damped onto my buttock; she had one arm around me. She stared. I stared, rubbing her back.

The 2001's assistant bartender was well inside. The tight flesh ring of Kystele's anus was molded tightly around his big red shaft. He gripped her broad hips in his hands and rocked his kneeling body-which rocked hers. Fucking into her ass with long probing strokes while she moaned, obviously desirous of being reamed and taken completely and filled with cock and sperm. He knelt behind her, Joretta and I watching with excited eyes, while he ass-fucked the French girl.

Kystele got rammed with a butt-flattening jar that nearly tumbled her. My hand slid up Joretta's back, over her shoulder, and plunged into her blouse. With a little finger wiggling, I soon had a rubbery nubbin between my fingers and was working away at making it into a fat hard nipple. Her left arm was around me, and she squeezed my hincheek with that hand The right came across in front and drew my zipper down. Her hand slid in.

"God, you're naughty," she whispered, tiptoeing and nearly disengaging my fingers from her throbbing nipple. "No shorts!"

"Forgot;" I whispered, and tugged at her nipple until she settled down, off her toes. Her hand gripped my cock tightly. She slid her fist up and down, slowly and just a little.

Meanwhile Kystele was lurching, moaning in response to the deep plumbing of her ass. We stood there fondling each other while we watched him fuck the girl's sweet quivering ass, pounding himself into the soft hot groove of her back as hard and fast as he could. Joretta was trembling every bit as violently as the girl on the bed. Her hand was hot and getting a bit sweaty and desperate on my cock.

Kystele moaned . and jiggled and swayed her haunches. His body pounded the big pillows of her butt and deep within the tight reaches of their hollow. I grooved on watching, and I grooved on the memory, too, of my own slicking in and out of that very receptive rectal chamber.

I stooped a little, ran a hand up under the back of Joretta's short skirt. She wiggled. Tickling my fingers up under the tight little band of her panties, cutting into her buttock, I slid them in. Then my hand was roaming around in there, wandering over the bulging flesh up under her panties. I slid one finger, the longest, up and down the crack between them. It was very hot. She clamped her ass cheeks together with a wonderful display of strength and control.

Now the man on the bed was pulling with both hands. Forcing apart the pulpy white flesh of Kystele's buttocks while he hunched hard to drive deeper and deeper into the glove-tight confines of the hole between them. I could imagine the scalding thrills of sexuality that streamed through his groin. As a matter-of-fact I was feeling them, though certainly not so vividly as he was.

Joretta rose up on tiptoes again. I thought it was because I was tickling her ass-hole with my fingertip. It must not have been; she wanted to get her lips to my ear.

"I'm going out of my damned skull."

"Get me the hell out of here! Screwing is NOT a spectator sport."

"Aww-www . . . let's wait to see them come!" I whispered back, teasing her.

"How'd you like to be jacked off all over the floor?" she whispered, gripping my penis in a steely fist.

I pinched her nipple and ran an inch or so of finger up into her hot snug anus. "How'd you like me to try to find out if you have a prostate gland?"

"I haven'd But-I've been thinking about just that, lover."

Kystele, on hands and knees, was dribbling moans and sighs from her open mouth. She began to move strongly backward to meet the repeated thrusting impacts of his body crushing down on hers, crushing in against her buttocks, sunk far up her back.

"Let's go over to the Ping Pong and ball all night," I whispered.

"OK. Why not my apartment?"

"I'm paying the Ping Pong good money for that room," I murmured as we backed out of the bedroom doorway, "and it isn't getting enough use." I remembered something else. "Besides, Dave and Kate might be at your place."

We were heading for the front door now, not without having snagged a bottle and discovered that the bereted French guy was eating out the sleeping Sara's pussy, while Pussycat knelt behind him, hunching his butt with her hand around him playing with his cock. I wondered if she had enough clit to ram up his ass, or if she were just playing.

"Shit," Joretta snapped, outside. "Dave? Don't be silly?"

But we took her car and headed for the Poon Tang, anyhow.

CHAPTER EIGHT

My bed was a wreck. It looked like the Chicago Browns had just used it for tackling practice. But neither the bed nor the room was occupied. The bathroom was. We could hear the shower running, and some giggles and the like.

Joretta ground her teeth as she picked up a brassiere that looked like a double-barrelled slingshot for Goliath. "Kate's," she snarled.

"How'd she get in here?"

"Christ, I forgot! She's got my green purse tonight. It had your door key in it."

"I never should've let you keep that thing, damn you. But look at this." I showed her the purple shirt. "My God. I gave little Davey that for Christmas last year!" She stared at me, wide-eyed "He had it on tonight!"

I nodded. "Right. Little Davey ain't little Davey any more. He's getting his second lay of the night-I mean he's HAD HIS SECOND."

"Who was the first? Who took my baby brother's sweet li'l cherry?"

I laughed. "Never mind, I'll tell you later. We can either go over to your place or stay." I hesitated. "Let's stay and give 'em a surprise."

"My brother? Wow. like what?"

I moved around the room. "like first we unscrew all these bulbs. Then we open the Venetian blinds just a little like this-ah. Note the weird colored lights sneaking in from outside. Just enough to be nice. Next I-get your damned clothes off, girl, I'm gonna screw you blind! Next I sneak in the bathroom, get up on the toilet, and unscrew that light!"

She chuckled, and by the time I came back from the bathroom she was naked and on my bed, posing lewdly. One of the two revellers in the shower had said "Hey" and the other had said "Light must've blown-oh well" and there'd been a grunt and then a squeal. Dave and Kate obviously didn't mind a damned bit.

I stripped, fast. Mounting the bed, I leaned over to slip my mouth onto one of Joretta's pretty up-poking nipples. Suddenly she blocked me with her hand. I raised my head a little, frowning in bemazed exasperation.

"Before they come out of that shower," she husked from her throat, "fuck me. No more messing around-just get into me and give it to me good, baby!"

I crouched between her wide stretched thighs and moved forward. I eased in until I could feel the damp red fleece of her crotch tickling at the head of my prick. I moved in a little more until I felt it nuzzling the lips of her vulva. They parted She lurched when I did, toward me.

My cock opened her, like a pink flower in luxuriant bloom-and covered with dew. I went shooting into that little pink slot between her widespread thighs. And hit bottom. My balls banged her twat so hard I expected to hear a loud bang.

I fell onto her, into her, not bothering to hold myself suspended above her on toes and palms. I let her feel my weight; she wanted to be fucked She grunted at the impact and wrapped her arms around me. They held me tight against her while she ground her hips in a horizontal go-go dance. The tight muscular ring of her cunt grabbed my cock and seemed to spin around on it.

I was still, enjoying those first hot moments in her without pumping. While she did her horizontal go-go thing! Then I broke free of her arms, taking charge. If there was anything that girl needed, it was somebody else taking charge. I hoisted myself above her and began to ease back, sliding my best parts out of hers. Her face twitched, looking tense and nervous about my big bone's withdrawal from her clinging pussy.

When I knew that I was free of her body except for the very head of my cock, I paused again. Holding it motionless just within her pressing cunt lips. Motionless, I looked down at her.

"You . . . want to hear it again," she said, from the throat.

"Let me hear it again, sweetheart."

"Hear it then, I'm asking. Fuck me. Fuck me, oh fuck me!"

I think my penis jumped in her every time she said it. I thrust forward with all my might, driving hard up her hot wet pussy and joining out bodies with a slapping shock that actually hurt. Her mouth opened wide and she groaned. Before either of us had recovered I was pulling back to lunge in again.

The hard length of my prick drove again and again into the scalloped little lips of her cant. She met each thrust with a surprisingly strong grinding of her hips against me. Her cunt was sucking at my cock. Sucking on it, hard and tight and lovingly, pulling and tugging at me. There was a look of concentration on her tensed face, and I knew she was working hard to afford me that wonderful sensation.

Hunching and pushing myself up onto my knees, I did it that way awhile, clamping her thighs between my knees and driving my prick down into her cunt. Its slippery lips were closely pressed, squeezed together by the position I forced her into. My knees, clamped her thighs hotly together. She groaned and gripped my hips and I felt her fingers tight and vise, clamping on my buttocks. I jogged it in hard and fast, not going deep but worrying hell out of the supersensitive head of my bone and the also sensitive labia it hurled aside and ground between.

Again. I lowered myself onto her, opening her willing thighs with mine and again stretching between them. I shoved it in all the way, until the hot brand of flesh was fully ensconced in her. As if trying to spike her to the bed, through sheet and mattress and springs beneath. She took it with delighted moans and coursings of her fingers over me.

I grunted, driving on in an irrepressible need for erotic release.

Her eyes stared up at me, wide and bright. Her bare heels drummed the bed. Her creamy torso rolled and strained beneath me, shaking her tits and making them quiver liquidly. They seemed to surge their swollen nipples upward to the chest I held above her. She fucked herself on me now, in an unabashed lust.

I rammed back in a pounding intensity, sliding easily in and out of her welcoming, throbbing cunt.

Slipping my palms off the bed, I made her grunt beneath my full weight. My hands rushed down to slip beneath the round, silken contours of her ass. I felt her hands scrabbling desperately at my buttocks, too, trying to get at the anus. But her fingers weren't long enough to reach. Cupping her cheeks warmly, strongly, I fucked into her from the very tips of my toes until I had forced the last possible inch of hard cock up her belly. I felt her slippery wet cuntal sheath sliding over my pounding tool to its full length.

Her soft body pressed up against mine in willing surrender, aiding me with hard-driving jerks of her wanton, arching pelvis. I began to arch my hips, pumping into the tender inner wrinkles of her vagina with a relentless fury.

My driving desire was to make her feel it, feel it, until her body no longer belonged to her. I knew that she was feeling it, too: the sensation of my long slippery joint, right down to the hot depths of my oozing cunt. I kept pounding, feeling it build, slamming her body with my own and trying to drown us both in an ocean of swirling sensation.

Maybe I did. I know I drowned her pussy in an ocean of semen, anyhow.

It came shooting and splattering out of my balls to bounce off the inner walls of her vagina until even I could feel it, hot and crowding my entrenched prick Then I eased down to lie on her for awhile, keeping myself in her, soaking in my own juice.

"Ummm," she breathed, clasping me to her. "Oh, baby!"

That's when Kate started applauding.

Joretta and I squirmed around to look at them. Or to squint and try to look at them, in the inadequate light filtering in through the uptilted Venetian blinds all motels seem to have.

"Hi, kids," Joretta purred

"What the hell are you two doing here?" Dave demanded

"Well, the bed over at your place was in use--" Joretta began.

"What the hell do you mean," I broke in, "what the hell are we doing here? Where the hell do you get off, coming the-hell over here and rumpling up my bed! Not to mention engaging in lord knows what lewd and nude crudeness in my shower?"

Kate looked guilty for a moment, but then she and Joretta laughed Dave didn't.

"Oh-uh . . . I forgot. Sorry. But anyhow-I mean-like, you could have gone over to Jo's place!"

"So could you!" she flashed, sitting there naked beside me. Dave and Kate seemed to be wearing towels, almost. "Hooking my key out of my purse and bringing your stud over here like this! For shame, Katie!"

"Stud!" Dave croaked.

Kate slipped an arm around him. Dave slipped an arm around her. They looked into each other's eyes. I knew what they were going to say before they said it.

"Sure," Kate said. "My stud." She looked at Joretta and me. "We're in love," she said.

Dave nodded and kissed her. "God yes. Jo-when Kate and I get married, can she still wear white."

"With a red bowler maybe," I muttered.

Dave didn't think that was funny, either. He looked around.

"Well . . . uh-are y'all going to leave?"

Joretta and I answered in unison, sitting naked on my rumpled bed and staring goggle-eyed at him. WHO, US? LEAVE?"

Kate sighed. "It's their room, sweetheart," she said She kissed his cheek.

"Yeah, but we were here first!"

Joretta giggled. "My brother! How wonderful!" She gave them one of those little looks of hers, with her head on one side. "But nobody has to leave." She patted the bed beside her. "Join us."

Dave was a little young for a heart attack-or anything else-but there for a minute I thought he was going to have one. "My-SIS-ter!" he gasped at last, and snatched up his clothes. He went into the bathroom, with dignity.

"My friend!" Kate snapped, and snatched up her clothes. She followed Dave, with dignity. Her huge jugs jumped up and down in front of her. Damned if I understand how that girl keeps her balance.

Joretta and I clung to each other and tried to keep quiet about our laughter. Boy, had Dave changed, once he lost his cherry) Boy, had Kate changed once she decided she was in love!

Boy, was that room empty and quiet about four minutes later. They left huffily, without speaking. After that Joretta and I laughed aloud, almost in hysterics, until tears ran down our cheeks. Then we got up naked and made a couple of drinks. After knocking back about half of them, we decided to go take a shower. We did, giggling and groping and doing deliciously obscene things to each other, all slick and soapy. Then we emerged and cursed Dave and Bate roundly, because there wasn't one totally dry towel in the house.

We found the usual spare blanket in a dresser drawer and used that. By that time I had one of those nice three-quarter hard-ons, the kind where your cock gets long and thick but still swings around, pointed not quite down or quite out either. I know some guys have pricks like that all the time, but they're usually the kind that just get hard for sex, rather than longer and fatter.

Joretta gazed at me, sipping her drink. "Mike."

"Ummm."

"Do you have to leave tomorrow?"

"Got an apartment and a job in Chicago," I said. "And a ticket on a big bird. It flies out of Melbourne at two-something tomorrow afternoon."

She sighed, looking pensive. "And a girl?"

I shrugged. "Sure."

"Serious?"

I shrugged, then took a long pull at my glass. "You too, huh?"

"Me too what?"

I looked at her. "Maybe it's Dave and Bate, that's all. Got us feeling romantic instead of sexy."

"like hell! I feel romantic and sexy, and you'd better, lover!" She drank. "I sure would like to do a lot of talking with you."

"Talk."

"Hell! Tonight I want to BALL!"

I didn't tell her that it wasn't tonight. It was after three. In the morning. ".You've got some high opinion of me," I chuckled.

"I have," she said quietly and very seriously. "I sure have. And think how easy it is for us to talk, now. We don't have to be nervous about all the usual-you know, the dating stuff. Is he or isn't he. Will he try or won't he? Will she or won't she? All that stuff that uptights people, dating. We already know each other, as the Bible puts it. Now we can . . . could get to know each other."

"Yeah." I nodded.

"I'll also drive you out to the airport, though. Sorry to come on strong, or worry you."

"Joretta, if you ever fail to come on strong, that will worry met"

She smiled, but rather sadly. Then she polished off her drink. She leaned out to set the empty glass on the dresser. One beautiful naked white breast swung free and loose, like a huge teardrop. She looked levelly at me, over her arm, with her nipple showing beneath.

"I ain't gonna tell you I love you, lover."

"I ain't gonna tell you I love you either, sweetheart."

"But I sure and hell want you."

I smiled, killed my drink, and held out. my arms. We were sitting in the room's two chairs. She got up and came to me, big breasts jiggling loosely, but she ducked under my arms and went to her knees. She slid in between my thighs.

Sighing, being very gentle, she kissed and toyed with my cock and balls. I stroked her head and hair and down her cheek. She was thinking, I knew, as hard as I was. Chicago. Big bird. Joretta. Plane ticket. Pat. Chicago: job. Joretta. . . . Knowing, and knowing.

She lifted my three-quarters erection with her fingers and regarded its tip. She kissed it. Then she French-kissed it, and it jumped in her hand. Lifting it a little farther, she fitted its tip into her soft-lipped mouth and pushed it in, farther and farther, slowly.

I gazed down at the top of her head and her lowered lashes and the moist pink lips circling around the lust-aroused hardness of me. She was squirming her mouth softly around the knob of that rigid shaft and hot thrills shot through my groin.

She eased her mouth off, looked up at me, then lowered her face to my prick again. Her mouth slid succulently down its length and swiftly filled her face to the bursting point. She gave it a strong suck.

Again she backed her face off and looked up at me. Again she ran it all the way to her throat. She repeated the sweet sexy process five times. Then she looked pensively at my penis.

"I wonder if this could make it wet enough."

"Wet enough?"

She looked up at me again. Her eyes were smoldering. "You know how excited I was, back at Dave's. If you'd brought me in here and stuck it up my ass, it would have hurt and I would have screamed-and loved it, and come in about a second I think. I want you to do that." Her hand wrapped around my spit-slick cock. "I want this up my back, baby."

My guts lurched with the strong erotic blow of those words. I reached out to caress her cheek. She leaned her face against my hand.

"Kystele . . . is a virgin. She bias a lover in France, and she's been getting it that way from him for two years. That's her only sexual experience. She's wide open."

"Good grief! How weird!"

I shrugged. "Nice way to have a lot of sex and still keep the cherry, for those who think a piece of skin between the thighs is a big thing."

"Do you, Mike?"

I shook my head. "I couldn't even care less about breaking one. I like women who know what they're doing, rather than fearful girls. If I want to be tender with you or think you want it, I am. If I want to ram you like a bull and get the feeling you want that too, I ram. But bear in mind you've still got that piece of skin, sweetheart. Or something like it You've got a virgin bottom?"

She nodded. I saw her little shiver.

"Well, it'll hurt."

Her hand tightened about my penis. "Do it to me, Mike!"

We moved from the chair to the bed. I kissed her. "On your back, sweetheart," I told her. Joretta turned over.

I let my hands lightly pat and caress her bare back, moving down to trace the severe indentation of her waist before sliding out over the smooth swell of her hips and around onto her upturned rump. I smoothed my hand over its swell, which was as round as a great melon sliced in half and applied to her back. The flesh quivered beneath my hands and little tremors rushed visibly up and down her taut thighs.

I cupped the resilient globes of that erect, quivering bottom, feeling her shiver and quake with amorous sensations.

She turned suddenly over, gasping for breath as if suffering an attack of some sort. She grabbed me, pulled my head down, and smothered me in hot tit. I groped, breathing in the delightful essence of her. Again my hands fell onto the swelling globes of her ass, now spread beneath her. I tickled and played and pressured, then eased her back over onto her belly again.

Spreading her cheeks with my hands, I eased my face down to the luscious white meat of her rump, like two snow-covered mountains. I kissed them and turned my attentions to the deep center crack. My tongue slid down the long, narrow, hot valley and encountered the puckered little portal to her bowels.

She groaned and shivered, writhing helplessly as I tongued her sweet little ass-hole. I kissed and slithered my tongue all over it, coating it and the crack with spit. Her hands clutched at the sheet and she moaned. Her butt arched up, humping to my face. I ran my tongue down to lick her cunt, then slid it back up to her ass-hole again. She was making little sighing moans of pure pleasure as I made her feel licking little flames running all over her.

I folded my tongue and began poking with its narrowed tube at her anus. She sighed and jerked involuntarily. I licked all around the coiled pink hole, then pushed again. My tongue went in and I made it quiver in her before drawing it slowly out and spearing it in again. Ecstatic sounds gurgled from her throat. Her fingers curled like claws to pull at the sheet. Every licking fucking motion of my tongue was making an obvious growing delight tingle through her.

With her ass-hole covered with saliva, I leaned back and tugged gently at her prone body. "Come up onto your hands and knees, sweetheart."

She did, sighing and quivering. "So-so soonnn?"

I chuckled. I stroked her flanks and poked her anus with my tongue again, since she obviously loved the sensation. She nearly-fell forward again in her wild reaction.

Then I knelt up behind her and slipped my cock up her cunt with the greatest of ease. She was, so excited from the ass-tonguing that her pussy was all aflow. My cock ran up into the intense liquid heat of her pussy, and it was so completely good that I nearly forgot all about taking her anal cherry. I stroked my prick in and out several times, rapidly, swinging my body in and up against her projected ass.

"Ba-aby . . . uh . . . "

"Sh," I said, caressing her quivering ass cheeks. "Can you think of a better way to grease my cock."

"Ummmmmmm!" She wagged her hips excitedly and rammed her cunt back onto me.

I nearly broke my back, trying to keep my cock up her cant while I bent to kiss and tongue the dainty little red hole of her anus again.

My piercing, spearing tongue loosened up the tiny mouth, and again I tongue-fucked it. Then I slipped my cock out of her cunt and knelt erect behind her.

"Brace yourself and think relax, baby," I murmured, and set my cock against her exposed anal hole. She shivered, but remained firmly in position. I knew that her kneeling position, ass up and head down, was the best and easiest way to accomplish our purpose. I also knew that some women can take it up the ass without any trouble at all while others go into spasms of agony.

I pushed She trembled and planted her hands hard against the bed. I heard her little moan. The hole between her cheeks began to dent inward. The big head of my prick turned it into a crater-then started going in, turning the crater into a tunnel. The sweet niche between her silken buttocks stretched helplessly around my prick. The rounded head vanished inside her. She groaned, arched her back, and sighed as it slipped up my ass.

I strained and grunted, getting another inch or so sunk into the deep cleavage between her ass cheeks. They quivered, but remained firmly, resolutely in place, proffering the hole I stretched and forced open.

I waited a long while as her internal muscles and membranes got used to the big pole spreading them. I felt the loosening, the slight relaxation, and nudged a little more. Then I began pulling back-back.

And ran my cock in and all the way up her ass-hole.

"Ah!" she gasped, and I saw the gooseflesh run with a shudder down the long line of her naked back. Slowly, she released a long sigh.

"You've got it all, sweetheart," I told her quietly. I gentled her with my hands, stroking her soft, silky-skinned bottom with both hands while holding my hot piercing prick up in the tight-clenched recess.

"Umm!" she shivered out. "Be-be still. . . . "

I was still. My rock soaked in her ass. It was hot, and tight, and very, very soft. But I could feel the intensely strong musculature of that deep burrow, all around my prick.

"N-now . . . ummm, baby! Now-fuck me!"

I gripped her rounded buns with cruel strength and watched my fingers dig into the white flesh. Then, holding them well apart, I began hunching. My own buttocks tightened to send me gliding in and out between hers. My cock tunnelled swiftly in and out, thrusting wide the pursed, exciting orifice.

And she moved too, shoving herself backward. Her burning rectum slithered back-along my cock and swallowed it hungrily. Her head came up a little and she arched her back. Her dangling tits slapped each other and nuzzled the mattress with their long thick nipples. My hips slapped the flaring buttocks and pressured the flesh, flattening it a little as I screwed into the moist crevice they flanked

The tender layers of spongy flesh squeezed my pulsing invading meat and slithered along it as though reluctant to let it slip backward to prepare for the next deep inward run. She pulled and pushed and wagged her hips in sexy little gyrations that caressed my delving penis in a series of varying pressures all along its length. I watched it slurp in and out between her wide thrust buttocks.

"Oh, baby," she sighed. "It-it's beautiful! Uh-uh--"

She pulled herself forward, then thrust strongly back, several times in swift succession. Her own movements impaled and skewered her ass-hole, forcing my fuckpole deep up her sweet little anal slot. I hunched to meet her backward drives, smiling and keeping my hands clamped to her haunches.

With both of us moving, my cock bored up her ass-hole again and again, driving deep with every twinned lunge of our bodies. Groans and sighing moans were jerked from her as her own increasingly violent movements impaled her tight anal sheath.

Skewering repeatedly into the hot elastic channel, I reached around her to cup her bulging, drooling cunt. She jerked and groaned. I wiggled one, then two fingers in between the hot wet lips.

"Move," I said, and she moved, fucking her ass-hole on my cock while I fucked her cunt with two stiffened fingers. They were instantly covered with slick slime from her excited vagina, but I noticed that my cock was sliding far more easily, too. I neither knew nor cared if the new lubrication in her anal canal's widened sheath came from her body or mine, if it were sweat or pre-semen from my cock or some sort of fluid from the walls of her rectum. It didn't matter. Fingers and prick were sliding in and out and around of two very open and willing and deeply receptive crevasses, not tight little crevices.

It was slightly uncomfortable, but I turned my hand so that my knuckles jammed up against her clit every time I juiced my fingers in and out of her foaming pussy. She began to squeal, then screamed and came in big jerking shudders. I felt her vaginal contractions, and they were echoed in her ass-hole, which began milking my cock.

My prick couldn't stand that sort of squeezing sucking grabbing pressure. With her cunt dripping with her own orgasmic juices, I started filling her ass-hole with mine. Her back arched and bent as she raised her butt high, careful to hold my spurting cock without dislodging it as it filled her rectal tube with long jets of sperm.

I grunted and groaned and hung on, shuddering with the violent feel of it, feeling every spurt of my cock shooting off up her ass.

"God-my god, baby-I can FEEL, it, every spurt-I ahah-ah-oh . . . it's never been like this since . . . since. . . . "

"Since . . . you lost your other . . . maidenhead," I gasped, depositing that last hot drop of semen up in the innermost sanctun of her rectal hole.

"Yes . . . oh yes," she groaned, ramming back against me. She jerked and wagged her firm round haunches against my groin, filling herself with cock and making the shaft sluice around in, her, slipping and sliding in the sea of sperm filling her ass-hole.

I sagged and sank back. My cock came out of her butt with a slurping sound and I knelt weakly, watching my come dribbling out of her ass-hole in tiny rivulets. The hole itself, violently red and puckered, was contracting again and again, squeezing and squeezing in what I knew was a totally involuntary reaction.

Then she whipped herself around and was all over me, squeezing and fondling and kissing. She surprised me, rushing her face down to my groin to catch a belated droplet of sperm. She lapped it greedily up, seemed to taste me, then filled her mouth with cock that was still slimy and shiny with its own sperm. I was tempted to ask her how her ass-hole tasted. I didn't. I already knew, and the taste of my own ball juice didn't interest me.

She continued slurping and sucking and licking it, in a stormy hysteria of voluptuous wantonness intensified by delight in her own ecstasy at her first ass-fuck.

Tired, wishing she'd leave me the hell alone, I reached out to cup and fondle her tits anyhow. I let my nails scratch over the pert nipples as I massaged the silky globes they decorated.. She sucked away at my semen-smeared cock while I stroked and squeezed, hard. The taut pink crests quivered and swelled and swelled, until they were the size of the last joint of my little finger, a wild red spearing invitation to sucking.

I couldn't resist. I had thought I was spent and exhausted and out of action, not to mention cum, for hours if not days. But the way my cock was twitching and fattening in her mouth told me I was wrong. Pulling her around, I got both of us onto our sides, then slid my mouth over her nipple while she ate cock.

I pretended to eat them. My teeth noisily but gently at each tight nipple while I cupped both warm appetizing jugs in the palm of my hand.

"Damn," she murmured in awe, and I felt chill air on my prick as she let it out of her mouth. "Look what I did!"

I looked. What I saw made me grin. I had a mean-looking hard-on, my proud pink cock glistening in the pale light creeping in through the Venetian blinds. It throbbed and jerked violently before my belly. She returned my grin, with pride.

"I think I'll just taste your ass, now I've found out what a nonstop cock you've got," she said. She cupped my hips and kissed my belly, then the tip of my cock. Then she rooted her head in between my thighs, which I knew damned well were sweaty and wet.

I sucked her nipples again, hard, and then slid on down her body. Jerking and grunting when her tongue started licking my sweaty anus, I grabbed her hips and ran my tongue straight into the slit of her cunt. She groaned, then responded by stabbing her tongue into my ass-hole.

We lay on our sides, grasping each other and shivering, with each of us sticking out wet tongues into the other's bodies. We achieved a silly little sort of rhythm, with her doing to my ass whatever I did to her cunt. I sent a tongue deep in, and she did. I licked up and down the slitted cleft and her tongue slickered up the crack of my ass. I reached back to squeeze and pinch a nipple, then gasped when her thumb and forefinger closed on my far tinier one. I hunched my ass to her face and was blind and breathless when her cunt rammed into my face. I curled my tongue and pretended it was a cock, stabbing it in and out of her wet pussy. She tongue-fucked my ass-hole in unison.

Then I started licking her clitoris, and she shivered again and again. Her hands clutched my ass cheeks painfully, but she no longer ran her tongue in and out of my hole. She couldn't, not gasping and keening out squealy little sighs as she was.

"No-wait--" she gasped. "No-uh-uh-uh-uhhh . . . stop . . . oh God . . . darling darling, get IN me, let me come with you ah!-in me-e-eee!"

We scrambled feverishly around to get ourselves joined. It would be a dry run for me, I was sure. Surely I didn't have any more sperm left in my overworked balls. But I scrambled in between her thighs just the same.

Her hands pressed my naked buttocks and she lifted her hips to encourage my deep entry in to the dark warmth of her loins. There she would drive my penis wild with hot tight wetness until it flooded her. I could tell that she needed that hosing flood. She was burning up inside.

My hardened penis slid up into her cunt like it was going home and knew every inch of the way. I stretched full length on her, giving her my body's full weight.

I began easing it in and out of her, swiveling my hips to move my cock around and sidewise in the slushy warmth of her vaginal tunnel. Grunting, she thrashed her body about as much as she was able to, pinned beneath my weight, wincing at the feel of her own snug fullness. But all we had done, and my tonguing her to the very threshold of orgasm, and now the delving power and the rubbing of her hot itching interior-these filled her with juicy stirrings and tingles. She was squealing one moment and sighing the next. And she came in seconds, after about five slow easy slides in and out of her body's soft wet crevice.

I held her close and didn't move, keeping my prick way up her contracting pussy, while she jerked in rapturous parozysms of uncontrollable voluptuary pleasure.

When she was limp and sighing, covered with the sweat of satiation, I pulled my cock out of her and backed up to get my mouth on her cunt.

She shrieked when I began sucking the juice of her orgasm out of her humid and spongy cuntal hole. I held her thighs firmly and kept sucking and licking, tasting the strange salty flavor of her cum, while she cried out again and again and jerked wildly. I rose on hands and knees between her thighs and smiled at her. Her face was flushed and feverish looking-and also looked as if she were positively glowing with rapture.

"I wanted that sweet cream of yours out of there, sweetheart," I told her. "Otherwise I'd slide around in there without coming for a week!"

"That would be nice," she sighed, extending her arms.

I slid back into her. Keeping my cock in there and humping my back, I kissed her. She stabbed her tongue into my face, deeply. Then I planted my palms flat on the bed on either side of her and started moving, pushing with my toes and letting my cock cruise in and out of her still-wet slit. She sighed and smiled up at me with a misty sort of veil over her eyes.

She was working, too. I felt the plucking twitches of her sucking cunt around my cock with each of its turgid strokes. My crotch hair flattened against her pubis, firm and hot and damp.

Half-propping myself above her with one palm and a knee, I slipped my other hand under her. For a moment I clenched her firm pad of buttock. Then I ran a finger up into the hole separating it from its twin. She gasped, but it went into that cock-widened channel very easily. I held it there, impaling her ass with a stiff finger while I pumped her pussy with my prick, just as a few minutes ago I had filled her ass with cock and her pussy with fingers.

It's a delight to screw slowly and gently, sliding one body over and into another, when the demands of orgasm have been got out of the way. I got the feeling that we would and could screw this way forever, without ever worrying whether anyone came or not. I already had, up her virginal ass-hole. And she had, several times. We were content now, just to fuck. Slipping and sliding. In and out. Slick and slithering, cock in cunt, fucking with a don't-give-a-damn whether-it-ever-ends attitude.

I kept it up until I was streaming with sweat and felt I couldn't move past another five minutes. My cock was rock-hard, but so covered with sweat and the ever-flowing juice of her deep interior that it seemed soft. It was extreme!y slippery. Also, that same sweat and pussy juice was drooling down out of the bottom of her cock-filled slit and wetting her perineum and ass-hole and the sheet beneath.

There was something I wanted to try. I didn't know if it could be done or not. But that had seldom held me back before!

Slipping my arms in under her knees, I pulled them up and up. She gasped and pressed her palms and forearms flat along the bed on either side of her supine body. Now her vagina was changed, forced into a long wet tube that sheathed my prick more tightly than before. She grunted, feeling that tightness within herself and her own stretching. But her eyes sparkled and she gave me a lascivious little smile.

"I thing you're-turning me into a . . . virgin all over . . . again," she told me; in a strained voice.

"That's not the half of it," I said mysteriously.

Then I pulled my cock out of her slippery cunt, used one hand to aim it downward. I pushed, slowly, until she gasped, suddenly feeling the big head of my penis nudging at the tightly closed mouth of her anus.

"Uh-oh God-oh . . . darling-g-g . . . can you do that?"

"Slowly . . . slowly," I said, pushing steadily. "I am doing it!"

"Ummm-you are! We CANT I FEEL it! Oh, ba-by!" We could do it all right. The big knob of my prick was stretching her ass-hole with a sucking sound as I slid deep into it. Slowly I pushed my cock in and up through warm, yielding anal walls. While lying on her, facing her, with her legs well up. And of course her darling ass-hole still greedily held some slippery sperm from my previous incursion. I needed tightness, to come again after this impossible weekend and fantastic day. Apollo 14 had blasted off only once. I was afraid to try counting up how many times I had blasted off in the past couple of days-and nights.

The sound that trembled from her parted lips was a whimper. I knew it still hurt, a little. I lay still, basking in the intense warmth of her ass-hole, the second time I had entered it in less than an hour.

At last it was she who sighed, and smiled, and began to move. She circled her hips, just a little, and thrust up. The upward bulging mounds of her tits jumped and jiggled. She wrapped her legs tightly around my jerking thighs to give my penis greater access to her tiny, almost-virginal anus.

Then I began fucking her ass, slowly at first, then faster and faster, huffing and puffing. She surprised us both by enjoying another sighing, shuddering come. Then I blew my balls again, inundating her ass-hole, and this time we fell into an exhausted sleep.

I didn't make my plane.

CHAPTER NINE

I spent most of the Monday after the Apollo 14 shot in bed. Sleeping. I was exhausted, physically and sexually.

Joretta and I got in a little of that talking, that afternoon and night, but we didn't arrive at any conclusion beyond what I knew I was going to do: fly back to Chicago and remember Joretta. She even called in sick that night and got off work, and we spent some more time talking and got drunk together and enjoyed a sloppy, half-assed fuck before we dropped off to sleep it off.

Next day, not without tears, she took me over to the Melbourne airport. She was still standing there at the, gate with tears glistening on her cheeks when we took off.

Believe it or not, I was seated next to a damned good-looking girl or woman, and she wasn't unfriendly. Believe it or not again, I didn't do a damned thing about it. That bothered me. I think it bothered her too, or at least I hope so.

My apartment was dim, dark, close, and musty-smelling. I unpacked in a desultory way and didn't answer the telephone. I figured it was' probably Pat. I didn't want to see Pat.

Next day I had to tell everybody in the office all about the launch. They'd all seen. it on TV, and every damned one of them just had to tell me they hadn't seen me. I told them Spiro and I had been busy laying these eighty chicks, and they laughed and that was that.

Next I learned that the boss had had his cassette recorder on. He uses it for dictation, and his secretary typed it all up. The first I heard of that was when the reporter came over to talk with me. My boss had called someone he knew, and after all I had gone down there as a Press representative. The paper decided to run a personal, eyewitness account of the big event, straight from the lips of a Chicagoan who'd been there. Me. And they sent over a reporter to do the actual writing, one of those "by Michael :Milford as told to" jobs.

The trouble was, the reporter came over to the office at about 4:30, and everyone was about ready to leave. I had no property to show, either. But I got a lot of winks and imagine eyeball-rolls from my coworkers and the secretaries.

The reporter was five feet tall, with short black hair cut in straggling bangs, and huge black eyes and a tiny little button nose and a mouth a little too wide for the rest of that pixie face. The reporter's name was Janie Vance, and she was strictly female, if she did wear a neat little black pants-suit over a white blouse.

I'm not sure who suggested that we go out for a drink, since the-office was shutting down-the boss had an extension from the office phone in his home. You get plenty of calls nights and weekends, in the real estate business. But Janie or I made the suggestion, and that's what we did, taking the 'typescript and her business-like black bound legal pad and Cross ballpoint.

Over a Whiskey Sour, we talked about the shot, and the Cape, and Merriti Island, and Kennedy Space Center, and the VAB and the Crawler, and even the armadilloes and the weather and funny-looking grass down in Florida. She was easy to talk with. She was so easy to talk with that the waitress got a little perturbed and we were surprised to learn that it was six-thirty.

It was about as much personal date as business by that time, and I suggested dinner. Sure, Janie said, and she'd pay and see if she couldn't get the newspaper to foot the bill. No, I said, I'd be delighted to buy her dinner. I made the remark that we were on a date and this was no longer business. She pointed out that she still wanted to know a few things. I came back with a yeah-but, and she sighed and said OK, we'd go Dutch. Call it male chauvinism if you have an inner need for name-calling, but I'm a little old-fashioned about that. I said no.. . .

"Boy you're tough, Michael Milford," she said finally. "Tell you what, then. You buy the steaks and I'll cook 'em."

We agreed on that and I followed her to her apartment. We left my car there and went to the supermarket nearby, where I bought a couple of T-bones, although she'd never be able to eat half of one of those monstrous things and didn't see how the hell I could, either. We also picked up a fat bottle of Chianti.

Her apartment was frillier than she dressed.

"You," she said, "probably want out of that coat and tie, and I want out of this suit. And do NOT get any ideas, just because--" she lowered her voice dramtatically--"I'm going to slip into something more comfortable."

I got out of the coat. She went into the bedroom and returned wearing a bright red jumpsuit of fleece. It wasn't snug-fitting, and the only thing about it that could be construed as sexy was that it wasn't to wear outside. Psychologically sexy, maybe.

Working back to back, we got the steaks buttered and into the oven, the Chianti into the freezer for fast-colding, and a couple of Martinis constructed. Janie offered me half of the big bowl of salad she'd made last night but hadn't finished, and I ate in the living room. We got the rest of the interview out of the way while the steaks cooked.

"And what did you do down there at nights, Mike?"

"You don't want to know," I said, making very sure my Martini glass was totally drained.

"Want another of those, Mike?"

I shook my head. "No thanks. They make me loose of tongue and terribly amorously inclined."

"Now about what you did in Florida at night," she said, ignoring my test-statement and acting business-like.

"Not for publication," I smiled. "Seriously-you know, friends and parties. You don't want to know." She tapped her legal pad with the ballpoint. "Well, look, Mike. Human interest and so on. After all-oh, come on. Was it so shameful? What did you do down there at nights?"

"I screwed a lot," I said casually, studying her. She dropped her pen.

"As I said," I said, "not for publication. And you didn't want to know, did you?"

"No I didn't," Janie said firmly, and that was that. We had the steak and talked and I left, thinking that I didn't know her and that Joretta had been right. People should fuck first and then get acquainted. It makes it so much easier.

So why did I include this brief interlude with Janie? Because it's part of the story. A very important part. For one thing, the contrast between. this obviously hung up girl-just the mention of fucking, and not even in that word, shook her so much she dropped her pen-and Joretta. Joretta wasn't-a. girl, that's for sure, not if Janie was.

For another, because she wrote the story, and it was a good one. It changed my life.

I was turd enough to call Pat after I left Janie Vance's place, and Pat was easy enough to say come over, if you agree to tell me about Apollo 14. I did, and we fucked, too.

I described Pat way back at the beginning of this story. She's a doll. And she was naked under me, and my cock bit into her soft cunt as I pounded away into her. The tight little mouth of her cunt was tightening helplessly, automatically around the thick length of cock I had buried in her. Her hands were clutching me, and she was meeting every one of my deep, ramming strokes into her lovely pussy with hardgrinding upward surges of her own. She was hot, and eager, and impatient. Moaning and smiling tightly up at me with love and lust in her eyes, fucking herself hard on me.

I felt the damp warmth of her vaginal lining close around my thrusting cock in a hot embrace. I worked up and down, gasping. Her body was warm, and alive, and erupting into spasms of hot response. I was fucking, fucking, pounding and ramming, jamming my hot, boiling prick all the way into the deep hole of her yearning belly, and I saw her mouth moving, forming words, silent words, words I should have been anxious and delighted to hear:

I love you. Fuck me. Fuck me blind.

I tried to fuck her blind, too. Stiffening and moaning and sighing, she came while my ass bounced rapidly up and down slicking myself in and out of her wet grasping pussy. I saw her orgasm, and I felt it, and I was proud and happy, and I rammed on until the warm glutinous fluid came flowing up from my balls. I jetted a torrent of it up her cunt. emptying my balls of their hot cargo.

I did that, and I came like a stallion, and. afterward I lay there and held her, soaking my cock in her and in the warm juice of my balls. And all the while I was seeing Joretta and thinking of Joretta and imagining that Pat was Joretta.

I told her, two days. later, and that was all of Pat. I think maybe she did love me, or thought she did. That's why I had to tell her I didn't. I had to try to be decent, whether she thought I was or not.

Then the article came out. I won't say that I was famous, but things happened. We got calls at the office, and they asked for me. Naturally every time I sold a piece of property the boss made plenty. And of course I got my commission.

I made twenty-one-thousand dollars in just under three months.

I also screwed four wives, two divorcees, a couple of daughters, and one grand-daughter of an old man whose sale netted me a $7,000 commission. And there were others. Women . . . girls . . . chicks, whatever word to use. Females. As I said, I wasn't exactly famous. But people are so lonely, all these guys in their apartments thinking about how good it would be to have a girl, and all these girls in theirs thinking how good it would be to have a man. So people grab onto any excuse. My name had been in the paper. There were some letters and stuff, and they did another story, a very brief one, with my picture. So people recognized me every now and then, and some called me. I got spoken to by strangers.

Oh. I remembered Sara, too. They printed a picture of Apollo 14, blasting off, right beside mine. Me and the world's premier phallic symbol.

The night the go-go dancer in the Folderol Club recognized me and came over and we talked and went back to her place, I couldn't even get it up. If there's anything more terrible, more embarrassing and humiliating and shaking for a man, I don't know what it is.

I slunk out of her apartment at three a.m., wondering what the hell. I drove home, wondering what the hell. Scared half to death. I parked the car and went in, scared and wondering.I nearly walked over one of my neighbors, a girl rd seen and lusted after several times, without ever doing anything about it. Sally somebody.

"Wow," she breathed, "why so morose, neighbor? You look like you just got shot down."

Her voice reminded me of Joretta's, the way she sort of breathed her words. I stared at her. And grinned. Her eyes had dropped. There was a stirring in my pants, a thickening inside my shorts.

"Every heard of Pussy Galore?" I asked.

She looked both surprised and confused. "Sure. You mean the one in the James Bond flick or the dancer, the one with the eighty-inch boobs?"

"I mean the dancer," I said, and I didn't have to ask Sally if she knew about her. "I just left her."

"Oh wow! She doesn't wear falsies, does she? Tell me she does, neighbor. Make me happy."

"She does not wear falsies, neighbor," I said. "You make me happy. Come have a drink with me."

"At this hour?"

I nodded. "Yeah. What the hell're you doing out at this time of night, anyhow? I mean, coming in?"

She stiffened and for a moment she looked unhappy. "Oh-ho-ho," she said, "we don't talk about THATI Sure-let's be silly and have a drink. It's only quarter past three. But why you'd invite me in for a drink, right after leaving the Folderol Club's prize attraction, I can't imagine . . . hey! Don't tell me she doesn't . . . uh. Oops. Sorry."

I was turning the key in my door. "Oh, I won't tell you that, neighbor. It wasn't that. I-I couldn't get it up.

She was halfway inside. She froze, then turned slowly. Her eyes dropped. "You," she said, "are a lying sack of bull manure."

I didn't say anything. I think she saw from my eyes that I was serious. She looked down again.

"Jesus," she said. "Jesus Christ. But-you've got-I mean . . . oh, lord. You CAN'T be serious!"

"True."

"Look, neighbor, I'm no baby," Sally said. "I know a hard-on when I see one. And you've got a sincere and monumental hard-on."

I nodded. "I know one when I feel one, too. But I just spent about forty-five minutes proving I couldn't. I thought I'd lost my manhood or something."

"With Pussy Galore."

"With Pussy Galore, pride of the Folderol Club."

"Michael A. Milford. You are a liar. It is a line, and the damndest one I ever heard. And if I hadn't just had a very frustrating experience I would spit in your eye and go straight home to bed."

"Stay here and do the same."

We looked at each other. She nodded.

"Oh-the drink," I said, as we went into my bedroom. "I offered you a drink."

"Yeah, you Tech. So I'm here on false pretenses, yours. And on a false line, too, also yours. So I don't want or need a drink."

So we stripped and mounted my bed and I kissed her with my hand cupped in the bowl of her crotch. Very rapidly, she became hot, quivering, almost frenzied in her responses. Her hips thrust up involuntarily and for the first time in my life I felt my finger slip into a warm pussy accidentally. A sudden intense thrill warmed her, painting an expression of rapture on her face.

Then she struggled up and around to wrap a hand about my cock. It was most definitely up.

"Couldn't get it up with Pussy Galore, huh?"

"That's right. Honestly."

"Wow," she breathed, and gave it a big wet kiss. Then she made a forward lunge with her head, and the big prick was surrounded by the humid flesh of her mouth. Her mouth slid sweetly down its length. It swiftly filled her face to the point of strain. She fondled it with mouth and tongue and hands, and caressed the hairy balls beneath.

She lifted her face off it. "It sure seems up to me, doll!"

I smiled. "That's your fault."

"Umm." She waved it in her hand like a baton. "It's my cock, too, and I want it. Umm . . . neighbor. Listen, I think I ought to tell you something. About tonight. Very bad scene. like-I'm on the rebound."

I stroked her breast. "Neighbor, you know damned well I've also had a bad experience tonight. We're grownups, or at least we think and pretend so, right?" I bent to kiss her thigh. "And we aren't talking about love. Right now we both have a yen and a need. Tomorrow we'll worry about whether it's a relationship or not."

She gazed into my eyes a moment, then bent and planted another kiss on the head of my penis. Holding onto it, she lay back. She pulled.

I allowed myself to be tugged forward, between her open legs. I stared down at the pouting orifice of her cunt as if entranced, hypnotized. It was widestretched now, waiting for the constant hard whipping in and out of my flesh. The open lips glistened with the inner flow of her pulsing wet hole.

Suspending myself above her on my palms, I eased forward. With perfect aim I inserted the throbbing head of my sex into those slippery jaws. She sighed and stared at the ceiling, quivering in glowing little paroxysms of pleasure.

Leaving myself motionlessly anchored in her, I bent forward to bathe her swollen nipples with a torrent of kisses. Her body jerked. Her vaginal mouth sucked at me with a rhythm that pulled me ever deeper into her sweltering core. Hair like a rain-swept midnight flared around my cockstaff and flattened beneath my pubis. Hair just as shiny and black framed her head and lay like watered silk on my bed's white sheetI licked all over a deep brown aureole and pulled a dark, swollen nipple into my mouth.

Then I rose above her and began fucking her, without violence or urgency-at first.

The flat, drumtight plain of her belly quivered beneath me and her breasts rippled and bounced in response to each deep stroke. The nipples were high-standing buds that telegraphed her ecstatic excitement. Mine rose, and I pumped faster. Animal grunts trickled from her open mouth. And still she urged me on, goaded me to greater effort. Her slim arms stretched. Her fingers dug into the tensed cheeks of my ass like talons as she crammed her slick quim-lips savagely up the length of my cock.

I speeded the in-and-out tempo of my hard shaft's plowing into her fleshy slit, launching myself on a nonstop flight to the edge of ecstasy and beyond. The rocky hard shaft of my penis matted her glossy pubic fur with its frenetic lunges in and out of her. And still those soft folds, the muscular inner walls of her vagina dung to my hard-working cock.

I flopped onto her and ground hard, smashing her tits into her chest so that they tried desperately to spurt out on either side of my body. Her mouth was large and soft and moving beneath mine. Her hands clutched and there was pain in my groin where it rubbedso hard against hers. I was fucking her hard, with all my might, into the convulsive and sucking hole of her belly. It gripped and clutched me with dark, ardent lips.

Half-crushed beneath me, she opened her mouth to gasp out quivering little sighs of passion. Her body thrashed, pushing and bucking at me. Her crotch ground up against the hard body that pounded hers, driving down into her with pile driver force. The honeyed softness of her slippery cleft and inner cunt seemed to snap at me. Her ass, which was small and round and tight of cheek, rotated beneath her. Its tight little orbit wiggled the hot wet hole around the spearing shaft of my cock.

Our goal was the same. To fill her with the last micro-inch of my prick and then to fill her with its spewing seed.

We were a confused, squirming mass of flailing hunching bodies and arms and legs, and I was coming. Imbedded tightly in the soft sexy haven of her, I began pulsing out my liquid climax. A river of life-giving fluid flooded into her and she kept hunching and jerking and squirming and I slicked my fading prick in and out of my own semen until she came with a cry from her throat that was lovely only because I had brought it from her.

In ten minutes we were fucking again, and neither of us was worth a damn the next day.

That night we ate together, in her apartment, and talked over most of a bottle of Tokay and got to know each other a bit. (Better to know one another, Joretta had said, and then to get to know each other. . . . ) She worked in a bank, in the back, on a machine that tallied accounts daily. She was twenty. She was on the rebound. We were good together, and we proved it again on her couch and still again in her bed.

The following afternoon I sold, not another biggy, but two houses. Neighbor-we hardly called each other anything else-and I celebrated with dinner, and we got only a few looks. Then we went home and continued the celebration in bed.

Then we each had a duplicate key made and now both of us had keys to both apartments. It was silly, keeping them both, but we were very wary, Doreen and I.

I tried to make it with another titsy go-go girl, and . . . I failed! That is, my peter failed me. I told Doreen about it. We talked about it, and we agreed only that we could not understand it.

But I thought I could understand it. There was only one go-go girl I could make it with. And the others reminded me of her, not so that it was good with them, but so that it was impossible. That seems to make some psychological sense. Certainly my inability with those two sexy girls was not physical! Doreen and I proved that, again and again.

We got to the point, swiftly, where we were not doing anything with anyone else. Then we got to the point where, even though we kept both apartments, we were living together. And balling constantly, and well, and almost ferociously. Both of us were clinging to each other for security, obviously.

We made it in my bed and hers, and on the couches and on the floors and once in the shower, hers, and another time standing up in the kitchen, with me hunching her from behind while she peeled a potato, standing on a little stool. And another time with her sitting on the kitchen table where I had lifted and set her.

Slowly, leisurely, in short savage jabs that made her moan, I stood there and rammed myself between the soft hairlined lips. She trembled at the swift in-and-out spearing of my body, trembled at the fondling touches of my fingers. Her butt squeaked. on the tabletop. In a suddenly heightened surge of passion that matched mine, she pumped her loins strongly against me, with her hands grasping my hips and pulling hard.

Her seated body seemed to suck at the thick, throbbing lance of flesh rummaging it. I nudged hard. The bulbous head of my penis snaked deeply in to press a wet kiss against her cervix. She cried out and hugged me in a tingling hunger of sexual craving. Then she fell back onto the table, and a salt-shaker banged onto the floor. Her thighs lifted and flexed spasmodically, imitating the spasmodic contractions of her inner cunt.

Her little cries of passion spurred my desire to a feverish gallop. I popped my rocks and poured semen into her until it oozed out onto the table in pale dribbles of thick cum.

We lived together for three months and had two god-awful fights and a couple of embarrassing incidents-oh hell. I forgot to mention that she was black. OK: she was black.

One afternoon a tall and very slim, wiry black guy came up to me in a restaurant and asked if I were making it with Doreen Clark. Wondering if I was about to be ripped-off, in Chicago where there are lots of black-and-white couples, but mostly black male-white female, I hesitated. Then I nodded

"Yeah," I said. "Who're you?"

"Sorry," he said. He hadn't smiled yet, but that "sorry" sounded promising! "Name's Arthur Davis. You, uh, making it regular with her, man?"

"Look, man, I-yeah," I wound up.

He nodded and sighed. His eyes were not happy.

"She's a damned good woman," Arthur Davis told me. "I ever hear you hurt that girl, I'll eat your gizzard."

"I agree with you that she's a damned good woman," I said, after gulping. "And if I hurt her I'll try to keep you from finding out." I smiled.

He almost smiled, but not quite. "Let me know you ever break it off with her, man," he said, and he went away.

It was two nights later when I asked Doreen about him. We had just come to a wild orgasm, with me behind her while she knelt on the floor, and-well, I'd had my eyes closed. I was doing something in my head that I'd done a bunch of times, and felt bad about. I was pretending she was Joretta. Thinking about that, and sort of on a hunch, I asked her about Arthur Davis.

She trembled and tensed up. "What about him?"

I sighed and raised myself on one elbow to look down at her face. Sad, hurting eyes.

"He was the guy, wasn't he, neighbor?"

She blinked. I felt her tense up even more. "What g--" She broke off and jerked her head aside to stare at the wall. "Yeah."

I kissed her neck. "And you dig hell-out of him."

She swung her face back. Her eyes were wide and had tears in them. But: "Mike!" she cried, and grabbed me with both hands. It was a pained cry.

"You ever pretend I'm him?"

"Mike-PLEASE!"

"Please answer, Doreen. It's important."

She studied my face awhile, then looked away again. She nodded. "Um-hm. And you pretend too, don't you?" She jerked her gaze back to my face. "You DO, don't you?"

I nodded.

"Oh God," she moaned, and tears sparkled on her cheeks.

After awhile she asked me what I knew about him, and I told her, exactly. I told her to call him. I played big and ordered her to call him. Then I got dressed and kissed her and went back to my apartment. It was half-past two in the morning. I called Florida.

CHAPTER TEN

"Hi," I said.

Joretta stood there staring into my eyes. "Hi." 'you get me a room at the Ping Pong?" She shook her head. "No use wasting money. Rate moved out of the apartment two days ago. You missed the wedding. She and Dave are on their honeymoon." She smiled. "Shacked up, somewhere. Anyhow, come on. You stay with me."

"Joretta, I didn't come down here to."

"Yes you did, and don't worry about it."

We collected my luggage and got into her car. She was driving along, staring straight ahead, when she told me she loved me.

"That's funny," I said, feeling like a kid who's just found out the measles are gone and he gets to go to the circus after all. "I came down here to tell you that."

"Thank God," she said, after nearly wrecking the car.

We barely got in the door. We left suitcases and clothing bags and our own clothes all over the place, forming a trail that led to her bedroom.

We couldn't get enough of hugging each other and kissing each other and muttering and murmuring to each other. But we also had to have each other, both of us with the same slashing hot intensity, and we were on the bed and united in seconds.

With the frenetic impatience of sheer lust and love, my livid cock reamed in and out of her, fucking like a machine in gasping slamming urges. She met each stroke with tits dancing and hips rocking. Her cunt and bottom arched in a parozysm of frantic jerks and thrusts, a spasmodic horizontal dance of feverishly impatient passion. I grunted and hunched hard, trying to contort myself to kiss her face and ears and tits and screw her hard and deep all at once. My swollen, blood-gorged rammer thrust hard into her, slicking into the heat and vital tightness of her cunt. Her thrusting thighs arched her body to offer her thirsty womb, urging it onto my hungry cock. Her butt was bouncing, twitching sweatily from side to side, as she concentrated in an effort to grab me with the slippery hot lips of her seething slit.

It was so much more than sex, we were so wrought up and shaking with feelings of joy and love, that I came in one hell of a short time, and she performed the beautiful miracle of coming at the moment my prick sent the first jet of sperm into her.

Then we flopped and wallowed, hugging and kissing and hunching as if we hadn't just blown our bellies open in a vital climax.

"I want to talk a lot, and feel you and touch you and eat and drink with you," she said, "and I want you up in about five minutes so you can get it up my bottom. Ohhh, baby!" She hugged me hard. "Listen, I want you to know something. I've been fucking like crazy."

"Good," I said. "So have ! . "

"You could at least act jealous!"

"Line 'em all up and I'll mow 'em dorm with my trusty machine gun, sweetheart. But would we know what we know if we hadn't both been balling?"

"What do we know?" she asked, her eyes bright.

"I love you, Joretta."

"I love you, Mike."

That was the signal for more moaning and hugging and kissing.

"There's something else I want to tell you," she said.

"More of the same's fine," I said, fiddling with one pink nipple.

"I love you," she laughed. More hugging and kissing. But she still had something she wanted to tell me.

"You know you got my, ah, ass-cherry." I nodded

"Well, that was the first time-and the last. I've I've had this nutty feeling that it's yours, that I could still feel you in there, that I had some of you locked up in there. I was saving it for you, too. If you didn't come back, no one else would ever-poke me there."

I licked the nipple I'd been fondling. "I came back for your ass-hole, Joretta," I said, and grinned when she shuddered violently.

"I'll be damned," she said, a moment later. 'Ts that all it took?" She slid her hand around my cock, which was up, way up, and throbbing.

"You're all it takes," I told her. "Listen, you want to move to Chicago?"

"Good grief, I don't know. You want to move to Florida?"

"Good grief, I don't know! We'll talk about it. Later."

"Later?"

"After I reclaim my ass."

"Wha-at?"

I slapped one of her rounded ass cheeks lightly. "This one," I clarified. "My ass."

"Oh God yes, yes baby, your ass, yours, reclaim it now, now!"

"You have some cold cream, Vaseline, joy jelly or something?"

"Umm . . . I don't think you'll need it . . . see, no one else has been in there. But . . . I have. A lot. With my finger, you know. Up my butt." She sighed. "And thinking of you, with my finger up my butt." She shivered. "I cried some, too. Anyhow, I don't think you'll need much of anything."

Before I could say anything, she had flopped over onto her belly, then hoisted her tail until she was on her forearms and knees with her butt stuck up at me, cheeks like enormous white blisters, swollen and shiny and ready to pop.

"Ahhhhh!" she gasped, for I knelt quickly and ran my cock up her cunt from behind. I pumped several times, jarring her. I felt her inner glans let go, coating my prick with fluid

Then I pulled it out and stuck it up her ass-hole.

She writhed, groaned, and moaned out unintelligible words as I entered her in one long, irresistible thrust. It went in, and in, and on in some more, and then my groin was plastered against the cheeks of her ass and mashing them and I was wishing, like an idiot, that I had another yard or so of tool so I could ram it up her back until it came up in her throat and she could taste it.

"O-o-oooh, baby," she groaned. "And I had been using my finger and thinking of you, and thought that was good! God, I'd forgotten how good you feel in there!"

I stroked her flanks and began easing it out, slowly. She whimpered, a little, breathing raggedly. The wonderful sensation, hot and impossibly tight soft flesh flowing along my prick, made me feel weak. I paused, letting the blood-swollen head of my prick nestle just within her, unmoving, in the tight ring of her anal canal.

Then I bent and kissed the soft white tops of both her outthrust ass cheeks. She sighed and wiggled them. And I slid my cock back in between them, all the way, until her rectum was filled, straining, and she was squirming and sighing in obvious delight.

She leaned forward, then, until my cock was half out of her exposed anal hole, then slid backward on it until she had it all again, up her ass.

I pulled her onto her side and fucked her that way, curled behind her. I lifted one of her legs and doubled it back until her foot was on my calf, and I fucked her ass that way. I pulled, and rolled at the same time, until I was on my back. She came atop me, facing up just as I was, with a squeal. I held her there, unable to fuck, letting the big chunk of swollen flesh soak in the warmth and constriction of her ass-hole.

Then I rolled her off me onto her side, the other side this time, and screwed strongly into her back with her cheeks clenched in my hands. She half-doubled her body, nearly getting into a fetal position and ramming herself back on the impaling cock up her ass.

I pulled it out, making her scream, and jammed it up into her cunt and snaked it in and out of that sopping hole for awhile. Then I pulled both of us back up onto our knees and abandoned her vagina to watch my prick slither back into the widening gulf between her wide-forced buttocks. I pounded my cock in and out of her ass-hole. She pounded my pelvis with her butt, delightedly screwing herself up the ass.

Reaching around her, I ran a hand over her wet cant, ran a finger backward into it, and let it emerge to wipe her own pussy juice over her clitoris. It throbbed and pulsed and fattened, then dived back into its sheath as she came with a series of sighing squeals.

Then I jammed the quivering mounds of her ass cheeks hard together and tried to ream out every possible wrinkle inside her grasping ass-hole.

My prick jerked and began to ram hot streams of semen up into her bowels. While she moaned in a delirium of satiation and love and joy, I ended both her frenzied craving and mine by filling her beloved butt with sperm.

That was in the Spring of '71. After two weeks of balling in Florida, we flew to Chicago. We lived there doting on each other, and we talked about marriage every now and then. It didn't seem necessary-is marriage relevant any more? We don't know if we approve of the Sate granting us a license for love and sex. Anyhow, when the wind started whistling in off Lake Michigan and we got the feeling there should be penguins waddling along Lakeshore, Drive, we did all kinds of talking.

By that time I had a good chunk of money, because success snowballs and I guess I was one of the premier real-estate salesmen in Chicago. But money isn't where it's at. And neither is Mayor Daley's little frozen kingdom.

We came back to Florida. For keeps. The Florida deal I helped pull off for my ex-boss, back in Chicago, attracted some attention. Now I'm a partner in a realty firm. Joretta and I live on Merritt Island, and we get the damndest collection of people and have the damndest parties, every time there's a launch. People come down from all over the country.

Meanwhile, we're crazy about each other, my Joretta and I, and we've. got a big picture of Apollo 14 up over our bed, with a sign:

RIGHT ON, APOLLO 14!

And we've added little notes: "and 15 . . . and 16. . . . "

THE END
Sex Is The Name ....(99k)    by P. Nutbutter




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