John Cole opened his eyes abruptly and rubbed them, glad to be back in the real world. He'd just had a nightmare. Sweat covered his body and his hands trembled.
He looked at the lighted green numerals of the digital clock on his bedside table: 12:16.
Propping himself up in bed with his head against the fat yellow pillow, he rummaged in the top drawer of the table for his cigarettes and lighter. He lit up and inhaled, savoring the cigarette's taste as smoke fingered his lungs.
John turned on the lamp on the table. In its soft light he looked at the smooth and beautiful face of the lovely woman who lay next to him.
It always amazed him how hard-driving women with painted faces and nails and peppery tempers suddenly became little girls again, innocent and sweet, in their sleep.
Mandy's head lay in a pool of her beautiful blond hair. Her mouth, rich and wide, had lost its pout in sleep, and her beautiful ivory breasts rose and fell evenly, bare to him, since the sheet came up only to her waist.
Her closed eyelids, soft and creamy, hid from his gaze those marvelously big and liquid turquoise eyes. He called them his Indian eyes, because they were exactly the shade of turquoise, with specks of yellow in them -- the sexiest eyes he'd ever seen on a woman.
With those eyes she'd seduced him into hiring her, and he hadn't been sorry. Mandy Winters was perhaps his most popular model. Unlike many of the other girls in his modeling agency, she was versatile and egalitarian, which meant she worked every day.
For a moment he savored his success. His business, the John Cole Agency, was top of the line now, after eight years of hard work. Yet, he was still young enough -- only thirty-five -- to enjoy his work. He'd started from scratch, using past skills as a photographer, writer and public relations expert to build his business.
Now his girls were considered the creme de la creme of the modeling business. They were all breathtaking beauties .he'd personally trained, with the help of a staff of experts.
He didn't consider himself promiscuous, but he enjoyed himself with some of his girls. The new ones, whether they rejected or accepted his advances, considered themselves fully initiated into the agency's mysteries when they were asked out -- and that meant to bed -- by John Cole. But he didn't force anyone to bed down with him. He wasn't that kind of bastard.
Mandy stirred in her sleep, a luxurious kitten. He watched her eyelids, creamy shutters, flutter as she turned her head on the pillow. Her eyes opened slowly.
"It's not morning?" she asked.
"Nah, just a few minutes after midnight."
"You couldn't sleep?"
"I had a nightmare."
"Want to tell me about it?"
"Not especially. It's boring. One of those recur-ring things. I'm being tossed out of an airplane. I realize I don't have a parachute. Then my heart starts pounding and I sweat. The ground flies up at me. Then I wake up."
"Poor thing," she said.
Mandy put her long, cool fingers to his temples and rubbed them tenderly -- something he loved. Then she put her equally cool and rich, wide mouth to his. She kissed lightly -- a seductive kind of kiss.
He embraced her, pressing those large, satiny tits to his chest as he forced his tongue into her mouth. She always resisted -- in a virginal way -- something else that turned him on.
Hard and erect, her nipples ground into his chest, sensationally erotic buttons.
His hands roamed up and down her warm, silky body, pushing the sheet entirely away. She wriggled. as he grasped the velvety soft curves of flesh above her hips and caressed them.
With a forefinger, he stroked into the cleavage between her ass cheeks. Up and down he moved his finger, teasing her, as she writhed in his arms.
Now, her defenses eroding, her tongue went wild in his mouth. She mashed her wet mouth forcefully against his as her tongue dueled his own. Drool ran from the edges of her mouth and her breathing started to come hard.
His cock had grown steadily until it reared up between their bodies. Its head, terrifically swollen, was a purple-red. The dorsal vein, popping with rushing, hot blood, was as thick as a cord. Frantically, it bobbed and throbbed, only inches away from her silky body.
Deeply, they kissed, their mouths slick from saliva. Her tongue tried to touch his tonsils. Her tits were flattened against his chest but still their hard points tantalized him.
Bracing her arms against his shoulders, she pushed her face back from his and swirled her beautiful, pale, champagne blond hair.
"Nobody kisses like John Cole!" she said. She loved to refer to him in the third person.
"You're not so bad yourself, kid," he said.
"I want to suck cock now," she said evenly.
Her head jerked to one side and he relished the look she directed toward his now rampant dick. She smacked her lips.
"God, it's mammoth."
"You made it that way," he said.
First, she stroked it. Changing position, getting sideways to him, she assumed a bending yoga position, her shiny, round knees exhibited, and pumped his cock in a glove of smooth skin. It became harder, its head glossy and hard.
When it reached its full length, she teased it, running her forefinger up and down its fat vein. Then, using the tip of her fingernail, she scraped up his prick's length very softly. It quivered in excitement, clear liquid oozing from its eye.
Excited, she put a finger to the sap that ran so freely. She tasted it, then smeared her lips with his nectar until they wore a filmy, wet lipstick.
She smiled.
Grabbing her blond head, he shoved it to the broad head of his cock. Her wet lips opened and drool ran from her mouth as she fit her lips tightly to that colossal root.
She took an inch, perhaps two, into her mouth, her eyes wide with amazement at its fatness and firmness and its heat.
Saliva ran from her mouth down his cock's length, dripping onto his balls, as she swallowed more and more of his big prick.
His arched, full hard-on filled her beautiful face so obscenely that it roused him even more. Her eyes sparkled as he. rammed his cock deeper into her mouth. Slowly, she slid her wet mouth up and down his thick erection, her saliva titillating that heavy mass.
The thought that he had this thick, ugly, throbbing slab of meat buried in such a soft, succulent receptacle overwhelmed him. Her blond hair, framing her face, also framed his hard-on, sliding to and fro, adding to the overall sense of ecstasy that gripped him.
As she sucked, she ran the fingers of one hand in a serpentine movement under his balls and cupped them, jiggling them.
Moving his hips, he watched his cock poke out first one cheek, then the other. Back and forth. She loved it. The blush of her cheeks spread deliciously red across the fat, hard outline of his pecker.
Rapidly, she began to sweep up and down it, lap-ping it with her dulcet, soft tongue, and raking her lips with it. Soft sighs came from her as she sucked cock -- sighs of contentment.
He wasn't sure he'd ever known a woman who loved to suck cock as much as Mandy Winters. To her, going down on a man was a supreme joy. Her face radiated that joy, her cheeks flushed, her nostrils flared, her breath coming hard and fast as she sucked.
With one hand she teased his balls while with the other she held his taut prick at its base. Her beautiful, firm tits bobbed as she sucked, the nipples protruding insolently into the air. On each downward stroke his long, thick cock nearly disappeared up her mouth.
Her sighs ceased, replaced by the loud, wet, slurping sounds of a tremendously wet mouth riding up and down his heavy staff at a quick, nearly rapacious speed.
Faster she rode cock into the oval of her gorgeous face, until her blond hair was dancing across his thighs, a spray of blondness that veiled his view of that red, red mouth going down on him. He only felt the ecstasy.
His cock felt like a huge, long, fiery red poker being bathed and balmed and soothed in a bottom-less well of velvet. Each stroke of her loving, clutching mouth sent tingles up his loins.
He brushed back her beautiful hair to watch again, feasting on the view of her mouth descending and her lips parting as she ate cock, riding up the full length of that huge rod quickly, retreating slowly. Sometimes she paused, her face full of it, about to burst open from it.
She shifted position without lifting her face from his prick, getting astride him and sucking with an intensity that was making his balls a cauldron of boiling come.
Reaching out, he scooped up a breast in each hand, stroking them forward along the hard palms of his hands. They were silky. Silky and round and tantalizing to the touch.
Again he stroked them, in unison, savoring her appreciation as she raised her head and trained her sexy, turquoise eyes on him.
She slurped free of his cock.
"When you come, John, spray it all over my tits."
"I'll remember," he said.
He remembered that first night they'd been together, when she'd pilled back and caught his come in her hands a� it jerked furiously out of his cock and then spread it like some rare lotion on her tits. She'd stroked it into them until they were milky wet and glossy with his come.
Now, she smacked her lips and he watched her lovely body fold forward, her- body shiny and desirable, as she guided her mouth back onto his cock.
She lowered her pouted lips over its immense head and tightened them, so that his sensation was that of entering virgin cunt.
The perfume of her body, sensuous and rich, drifted into his nostrils as she swallowed up more of his cock. The view of her, nude and desirable, all blond splendor, consumed his senses.
She began to suck rapidly and smoothly, her lovely mouth in a firm wet vise around the hot girth of his cock as she rode up and down it. Sounds of pleasure oozed from her mouth and drool ran from it.
His red log glided into her gorgeous mouth to be met by a warm flow of juice and a supple, agile tongue.
She eased her lips up to the big, quivering head and popped loose. Then she began to ply his long, hot cock with her flickering tongue, roaming up and down its throbbing length as it arched higher for her attentions, its head bobbing proudly.
Her tongue would roll to its massive end, pause and tease, and then slide succulently down the slick mass to his sweaty balls. Her eyes gloated over his prick as she sucked. Her lips had become wet with her own drool.
As her tongue slithered over his thick chunk of meat, he kneaded her tits, cupping them and then pressing the silky flesh of each mound together and rubbing vigorously.
"I love that!" she panted.
Her tits glowed as he rubbed them. Now he re-leased them and they sprang forward, plump and firm, the nipples erected. He teased the hard, button-like nipples, running his fingers around them, clockwise and then counter clockwise as she frantically mouth-massaged his cock, fully encasing it in her luscious mouth, her wet lips clinging to its tor-rid surface as she wheeled up and down it. Delightedly, as his loins tingled, she began to plunge it up her mouth in a frenzy that put a sheen of perspiration on her face. The freckles around her mouth brightened. She couldn't seem to get enough of it -- his big, fat cock.
As she ascended and descended on its hard, pulsating surface, savoring each lap, he ran his greedy eyes from her upturned, passionate face, shiny and freckled, down her shapely young body.
A flesh-toned bikini, so tight it pinched her choice flesh, formed a glossy triangle over her protuberant cunt, a wet slash resembling a mouth beneath that wisp of cloth. Her pubic hair formed a delightful cushion beneath it. Her tits bounced as she sucked. Freed of his hands, they swung in a hypnotic arch before him.
Releasing her mouth in a loud, pleasing slurp, she suddenly began to whip his cock with hard, pointed strokes of her tongue, painting it with her lust. She stroked it from the base to the head and then danced her tongue across that broad, vermillion surface.
Her body swayed, afore him, so voluptuously enticing it made his cock rock-hard.
The hot come in his balls boiled to the bursting point. He tightened his thighs and pushed his hands into the bed, bracing himself as she switched her mouth back to his cock's head, encasing it in a luscious clamp.
Her bikini was wet now, so wet that her nest of pubic hair shone through. Her ribs, tight against her skin, rode up and down her midriff in an exciting, rippling movement.
His body began to lurch up, wanting more and more of that active, wet mouth. It fed on his cock with gusto, thrust after thrust, engorging his turgid pole with rushing blood.
"Christ!" he shouted.
His cock spat come. Quickly, grabbing his prick, throbbing as it spilled out semen, he guided its spray. Globs of it smacked her breasts, one at a time, and streamed down them, curling past her erect nipples, brown gumdrops, spilling off the round curves of her breasts.
He pressed his hands to her breasts and in circular motions salved the creamy balm into the soft texture of her mounds. They became filmy with come.
She sighed, throwing her head back. She was pleased.
"It's so hot and creamy!" she cried. "My breasts feel wonderful!"
She lay back in the bed and stroked her cunt easily through its nylon cover until she came.
"Do you have an early assignment?" he asked.
"A magazine job at eleven," she said.
"Then you can fix my breakfast?"
"Sure, John." She rose from the bed, her lovely body bearing the rose-colored marks of his passion. "I love to cook for you."
"Mandy, do you go to bed with me because Pm your boss? ... tell me the truth."
She studied his face. "John, I never thought you'd ask a question like that." She came up to him, draping her arms around him. "Hell no! I can work for anybody. I'm a name in modeling now, thanks to you. I go to bed with you, John, because I enjoy it."
"Thanks," he said. He was sorry he'd asked. He wondered why he'd asked. Feeling his age? Or was something lacking in his personal life?
It certainly wasn't sex.
CHAPTER TWO
"Hey, anybody home?"
The voice boomed into John's bedroom.
He got up, hurriedly putting on his robe, as Mandy pulled the shut up over her bare body defensively.
"Who's that?" Mandy asked.
"Harry Bacon," John answered, "an old friend. He's got a key to my place. He's probably got a friend with him."
Now female giggles mingled with Harry's boisterous voice.
Two friends.
John tied the cord around his robe and lit a Winston. He didn't feel like playing host at two o'clock in the morning, but he figured the least he could do was open some whiskey for Harry.
They were old friends, their friendship dating back to the days when they shared a photography studio. Harry was still a photographer, one of the best nude photographers in the city.
He was a womanizer, too. Been married four times. Now he was single again, screwing different broads every night. Sometimes he used John's place. It was a long drive to his place in Westchester.
"Well, hello!"
The greeting came from a tall redhead with nice legs -- long and svelte, sheathed in black hose -- when John entered the living room. Obviously a dancer, she hadn't bothered to change into street clothes.
"John, meet Sheila and Maggie," Harry Bacon said drunkenly, waving his hand in the women's direction. They were sitting on a low, modern couch, their legs crossed. Harry stood beside the bar. "Hey, haven't you got anything in this bar except gin and vodka?"
"You want bourbon?" John asked. "It's in the cabinet below."
"Are you girls in show biz?" John asked, sitting across from them. They nodded. Now he saw that the little brownette, Maggie, was even more delightful than the tall redhead.
"I thought we could have a party!" Harry said. His head rose from behind the bar and he placed a bottle of Old Barton on the top, unscrewing it.
"We could," John said. "There's only one complication. I have a guest."
Harry laughed. "John, you're right out of the past. So there's an extra woman? Two healthy males can handle an extra woman between them, now can't they?"
John inhaled cigarette smoke and studied his friend's face. "You're a goddamn satyr, you know that?"
Harry poured two inches of Old Barton and slugged it down. "Maggie and Sheila are dancers over at the Kitty Kat A-Go-Go. They do a specialty act ... don't you, girls?"
Maggie spoke up. "Yeah. Sheila balls me every night!" She giggled.
"Oh, one of those acts!" John said.
"Well, it beats hustling!" Sheila said.
"Now, if we're real nice, maybe the girls will do an act for us ... command performance," Harry said. "Hey, doesn't anybody else want a drink?"
"I've had enough," Maggie said.
"Some ginger ale," Sheila said. "Do you really want us to do our act?"
Harry put ice into a glass and poured ginger ale into it. "It's the best way I know to start a party," Harry said. "By the. way, who's staying with you tonight, John?"
"Mandy Winters."
"That lovely, cool, tall Nordic creature with all that champagne blond hair?" Harry asked.
"Yeah ... she's got to work tomorrow." He watched Harry move from behind the bar and take a chair across from the two dancers.
"You're a slave driver," Harry said casually. - "You ball a woman all night and then expect her to work for you the next day ... show Johnny that marvelous bod of yours, Maggie."
The brownette smiled, brushing back her long, chocolate-brown hair from her face. Her lips were thick and wide, faintly painted with a pink lipstick. Her blue eyes glistened. She rose, wetting her lips.
Easily, she slipped off the cape that flowed nearly to her knees.
Wow!
Her body was a wonder, trim, and sleek, her long, shapely legs made more attractive by the white heels she wore, her ample fits about to burst from her tights.
Slowly, she turned, and John's eyes widened as he stared at the firm twin mounds of her bouncy ass. The white satin tights hugged that ass so snugly that little ribbons of flesh protruded. Her back rose up straight, its shape beautifully defined by a long, graceful backbone. She looked like a pin-up. Her legs were even more beautiful from the back view.
Despite his constant exposure to beautiful women, John Cole never tired of looking at a new one. The female body absolutely fascinated him. He could look at a beautiful woman for hours and hours, making new discoveries every minute.
This young dancer was exceptionally beautiful, her body and her face. He knew she could do better for herself than the specialty act. About the other girl, Sheila, he held some doubts. She was typical. Beautiful but with a trace of hardness, just enough to put her in a class with ten thousand other showgirls.
Maggie tensed her leg muscles, rippling flesh up her calves. As she spun back around to face him, he swept his eyes up her body to her face. She wore an absolutely lewd expression.
"Okay, Sheila, get off your can and let's please these men," Maggie said.
Sheila finished her drink quickly and took off her cape, first reaching into the pocket for a leather case.
Her body was fantastically beautiful, too, built on a larger scale than Maggie's. Pirouetting before them, she swayed her long red hair -- an auburn shade, really -- that flowed to her ass. The black fights she wore fit like a glove.
Before John fully realized it, Sheila had snapped open the leather case. From it she extracted a huge dildo. She caressed it and danced some more, slowly fitting it to her body by its glossy leather strap.
John's cock propped up his robe. He was becoming uncomfortably harder by the second. He could see that Harry was turned on, too. His fly was protruding.
"You get turned on fast!" Sheila teased, glancing toward John.
"When gorgeous women are teasing hell out of me with their bodies, I do."
"Just think of those poor guys that watch us every night from the bar," Maggie said. "I feel so sorry for them I let them suck my pussy right there in public. I just strip and go down the line, letting them suck like poor little kittens."
Jesus! She's a turn-on!
At last Sheila had the gigantic black dildo in place. It stuck out nearly a foot from her body, seeming incongruous with all that lovely female flesh. Sheila began to stalk Maggie in a sensuous dance around the room.
The brownette moved serpentinely and smoothly, tantalizing and enchanting them. Suddenly the two women faced each other, wriggling and dancing.Nearer and nearer Sheila moved toward the lovely girl in white tights, that black, obscene dildo bobbing with her undulating hip movements.
"Goddamn, how much can a man stand!" Harry Bacon said. He fidgeted in his chair.
Maggie's nails, sharpened and brilliantly polished, sparkled as her shapely hands roamed her own sleekly magnificent body, raking her erect nipples, smoothing the doelike skin of her thighs, slowly tracing the mouth-like bulge between her legs.
In one easy motion, she swept a hand behind her and unzipped the white tights, slowly peeling them away to reveal the most ripe, succulent young body John had viewed for a long, long time. It literally sprang out. Her cone-shaped tits, delicately veined, danced on springs; her full-lipped pussy, wet and raw edged, pouted, and her ass, even more alluring without the confining tights around it, presented insolent twin hillocks of creamy flesh as tasty-looking as giant dips of the purest vanilla ice cream.
As Sheila advanced toward her, stroking the huge dildo with her hand, seemingly anxious to plunge it into that lovely body, Maggie cleverly sidestepped her, spinning her body in a series of overlapping circles around the room.
Maggie still wore flesh-colored pantyhose and those patent leather white heels, just enough cover to add allure to her body. She seemed a nymph freed in their midst. For a moment she danced alone, a final dance before her impending surrender to the pursuing "beast."
In black tights, her flaming red hair trailing brazenly down her back, her body's graceful leo-nine lines broken by the black stalk that stood out boldly from her loins, Sheila created the illusion of being a predator.
Her claws poised, the redhead descended upon the nymph-like brownette, catching Maggie as she twisted her seductive body and pulling her toward the ominous black rod.
With a hard smack -- a practiced exercise, John reasoned -- the false dick sank into that young cunt. Maggie squealed.
Sheila thrust the big, fat dildo all the wav up the other girl, her body swaying back in a kind of bow position. Then a fantastically hard hunching began. Slowly, Maggie responded to the "aggressor."
The hard knob of the dildo jabbed for the creamy heart of Maggie's writhing cunt, reached it and then speared its time after time.
Their bodies .whipped together in a frenzy, so supple they seemed like willow branches, bending and swaying and reaching ecstasy together. The dancers were totally sensuous women, their bodies mere tools of their passions.
The smooth knob of the dildo parted Maggie's cunt with a gulping sound, its artificial balls lapping helplessly at the vestibule of her cunt.
The massive intrusion of the dildo seemed to work a metamorphosis in Maggie. Her cold, aloof attitude melted and as Sheila's ardor increased, Maggie's rose to match it, even to surpass it. Maggie's body almost seemed to hum as she submitted to the jabbing of the black dildo, its hard-on permanent, its entries sure and certain and unyielding.
Their bodies wore films of sweat as the dancers tore at each other's body, their breathing becoming shallow from their careening lust.
Sheila increased the tempo of their fucking as the dildo squished and slurped, a huge lance reaming the fruit of Maggie's body.
Maggie's body heaved and quaked, her lust building like a rushing flood against the dam of her control.
Whacking his cock, Harry had risen from his chair. Removing his clothes like a man in a trance, he started toward the performers, so enthralled in their act they didn't see him approach.
Their bodies were straining and the girls were gasping and panting when Harry tore them apart -- a strong man, especially when he was aroused.
John couldn't help but think how much like a Neanderthal man he looked -- stripped down to his shorts, his chest like a huge whiskey barrel, hislegs and his torso, even his back strung with black hair, his natural civilized expression distorted by his lust.
Sheila's face registered surprise, her make-up seeming heavy and artificial beneath the wide blue eyes, as Harry shoved her away from the delectable Maggie.
Instantly Harry's eyes, flashing a strange light, feasted upon the lovely body of the other dancer. She smiled, only for a second bewildered, and shook her brown hair teasingly.
Then his hands grabbed her svelte hips and he jerked her smooth body forward. His huge, pulsating cock, arching high into the air, its head a raging purple-red, popped into the brownish gash.
"That's better, isn't it, baby?" he shouted. "Isn't that big fat cock better than the goddamned dildo?"
"Christ yes, Harry. Oh yes. Keep it in me, Harry. Pump it to me."
"You just dance all over that big hard-on, baby. You do your stuff now with that juicy, darling little cunt of yours."
The girl's hips began to bounce and her belly flesh creased and her sweet, trained cunt sopped over Harry's furiously hard cock.
He swayed back on his hips, driving his prick up-ward as she pumped up and down its inviting, long length, squeezing her juicy cunt up and down in sumptuous vaginal caresses. Her hips, powering her caresses, were twin mounds of flesh, beautifully dimpled by her exertions.
Faster she sent her hot cunt flying up the long, hard sleeve of his meat, her lovely leg muscles tensing and straining as she kept herself positioned perfectly.
Harry's hands once again reached for her undulating hips and raced across their silky surfaces as he urged her clutching, wet cunt harder against his fully projected pole.
She pressed harder, slamming her sucking cunt to the root of his big cock until their pubic hair meshed. His huge, sweaty balls, their surface like tree bark, bounced alone outside that wet cavern, barred from entry.
Maggie's cunt rippled up and down Harry's in silvery flashes, wet and succulent sounds splashing the air. Flesh slid along flesh in reckless abandon, hips pumping hard, legs straining to keep the lovers in place.
Her cunt oiled its way up his cock all the way to his bloated balls and descended as quickly, her eyes closed in ecstasy, her lips pursed.
His hands groped for her breasts but she braked them.
"Easy on my tits, baby ... fuck me hard but go easy on my tits."
As he watched the lovers, John reached into his robe pocket for his cigarettes and lit one. The smoke snaked from his nostrils.
"Want a smoke?" he asked Sheila, who'd curled up at his feet.
"No thanks," she said. "Aren't they something else -- Harry and Maggie?" she said, awe in her voice. "I never dreamed Harry was so well-hung."
John split his robe open and let his cock rise between the folds of grey corduroy.
"Take a look at this one," he said.
Her red curls bounced as she spun her head and fixed her blue eyes on his tremendous erection. "Wow! And I thought Harry was hung!"
He eased forward in the butterfly chair, shoving his pulsing cock closer and closer to the orange lip-stick rim of her mouth. She smacked her lips. Her eyes couldn't leave his cock. She opened her lips and drool flowed from their corners.
With a juicy clamping sound, she spread those wide wet lips in a rubbery ring around the huge head of his tool.
Sweet. Wet and sweet.
Now, as she sucked, making luxurious, long sweeps of her agile mouth up and down his growing erection, he turned his eyes back to the lovers.
Harry's hand climbed up Maggie's back and found her long brown hair as she pistoned wildly on his huge stem, careening wantonly along it With each hand he grabbed a fistful of silky brown hair and jerked until her body was spilling all over his cock. He'd bowed her body to his cock, pulled her mouth to his, smashed her body into his. And she just writhed and squirmed and kept trying to make that colossus of flesh burst out with its bounty.
His mouth ate on hers, his hands slammed her flesh to his.
Her nostrils flared and she seemed to get a second wind as she flung her now flooding cunt onto his immense prick. Her cuntal kisses were savage and deep-thrusting and the man who welcomed them was no longer drunk. This fucking had sobered him, sobered him and limbered him up until he was a supple fucking machine.
His billowy balls batted against her body on her decidedly forceful, forward thrusts, his cock fully encased in the hot jelly of her pussy.
They rocked. They rolled. Her showgirl body swept onto his with a rapacious glee. His hard body cushioned hers, making it quiver with passion.
John turned his attention back to Sheila. Sliding her moth backward, she popped free of John's cock and began to flutter her tongue like a butterfly on that bulbous knob. Around and around it she fluttered, touching and teasing until its eye streamed preseminal sap.
Pleased with herself, her auburn hair glistening, making his cock even harder, she licked up the taut underside of his cock until she reached his bobbing balls. These she fed into her mouth with her hands, sucking them one at a time. Then back to his full rod she swung her head, bouncing her hair, pouting her lips as she swallowed his hugeness. His view of her sucking and sucking and licking and cramming his hard old cock up that lovely face began to over-power him.
He popped his seed in milky globs into her mouth and she drank appreciatively.
It wasn't until he folded his limp cock back into his shorts that he returned his gaze to the other lovemakers.
They'd collapsed on the floor. Maggie had curled into a fetal position and her mass of brown hair fanned over Harry's arm. He was half-asleep on his side, a mass of hair and flesh.
John edged open the bedroom door and tiptoed across the room, his bare feet sinking deeply into the fluffy shag. He bent over the bed and looked into Mandy's face. Her eyelids were fluttering. Deep in R.E.M. He smiled, glad that she'd slept through the orgy in the living room. She had a full day to-morrow.
He left the bedroom and hurried up the hallway, passing the bath. He paused, listening for a moment to the low, excited voices of the dancers. They'd obviously enjoyed themselves; now they were cleaning up.
When he entered the living room, he found Harry fully dressed, sober-looking, with a weak drink in his hand, looking meditatively into the glass of amber-colored whiskey.
John sat down beside him and lit a cigarette. "This was a last fling for me, John!" Harry said.
John's eyebrows arched. "You've got to be kidding!"
"I'm serious as hell. I'm getting married, John, and I'm going to spend every night with my sweet young bride."
"I'll believe that when I see it," John said, half teasingly. He took a deep drag on his cigarette. "Who is she, Harry? Someone I know?"
"Rowena Vukonovic. She's a model and a student at the Art Center."
"A child bride, huh?"
Harry smiled, obviously thinking about her. "Hell, she's twenty."
"Jesus Christ, Harry, you can fuck them without marrying them. There're plenty of young chicks around looking for experience. Lots of gals like older men. If you're thinking about marrying you'd better marry an older .woman, somebody with mature ..."
Harry interrupted him. "I need someone who understands me, John, and Rowena does. She's exactly the person I've always needed to make my life complete."
"That serious?" John asked.
"It's that serious. I'll bring her around sometime. Once you meet her you'll change your mind. You should be thinking about marriage yourself, friend. You're not getting any younger."
John watched his cigarette smoke curl into the air. His voice took on a harsh edge. "No, thanks. Once was enough for me. I'm not the eternal optimist, Harry."
"Hey, I guess rd better get those dancers home.'' He checked his watch. "Hell, it's almost foul o'clock. Is Mandy staying all night? If she isn't, I'll drop her off, too."
"She's staying here," John said, stubbing out his cigarette.
CHAPTER THREE
He paused in the doorway to watch them. It was a tremendous turn-on seeing Harry assfuck Mandy. She seemed even more desirable with another man's long, hard prick hammering up her smooth, firm back end.
Harry was breathing heavily as he rammed it to Mandy, his cock flying into her succulent ass so fast that her pillowy bottom bounced with each blow. Her blond hair danced across her back as she responded to his demands.
She loved it, too. Her body wore a flush and a veil of perspiration coated her sleek buttocks. Her long, well-contoured legs spread wide for Harry's big, wide entry. He'd propped a pillow under her so that her beautiful bottom was arched up at just the right angle for an even, smooth ride.
"Ohhhhhhh, Harry!" she squealed. "Keep it up ... I think I'm coming!"
Harry began to grunt, jabbing into her ass with powerful, quick thrusts. Her ass started to tremble. He grabbed her thighs firmly now, holding her steady, as he continued to fill her delicious rump with his thick, red prick.
John realized suddenly that his own cock had risen straight out from his body. He stroked his erection, keeping his gaze on the naked couple.
Mandy began to skewer her ass back on Harry's long, stiff erection and to tighten her tan buttocks, slapping his cock with her silky skin. She was flailing her head as long, deep, guttural sounds came from her mouth -- animal-like sounds.
Sweat dripped from Harry's armpits and popped up on his loins and legs as he drove it to her, now hell bent on satisfying her.
John rubbed his cock, skinning back the foreskin until his prick resembled a huge, red apple at the end.
"You're a sweet cunt!" Harry shouted. "Dammit, you're so sweet!"
"You're terrific!" Mandy panted. "Fantastic!"
"Come, you cunt!" Harry ordered. He plunged into her back end even harder. Her whole body writhed as he drove his heavy cock between her tan mounds, now so taut that dimples had developed across their satiny expanse.
"I ... I'm coming!"
Harry sent a series of extremely powerful cock blows up her shiny rear end, pinning her flat to the bed, all the fight gone from her.
Her body erupted in an orgasm that puckered her sweet anus circle around Harry's in-riding rod. Her buttocks were as shiny as a mirror.
John almost came himself, jacking off vigorously, as he watched Harry pour balls full of come up her lovely, lovely bottom.
So hard he needed release, John moved swiftly on down the hallway, opening the door to the guest bedroom. He advanced to the bedside table and turned on the lamp.
In its soft glow lay the dancers, completely nude, side by side in the bed, soundly asleep. Their bodies were beautiful. Climbing over the footboard, he edged his aroused body between them, looking at their faces.
Sheila was sleeping, with a faint pout on her wide, thick lips, her hair in a fan of auburn. Maggie's head was turned on the pillow, her long, chocolate brown hair trailing down over her naked shoulder. In the side position in which she lay, her tits seemed especially large and long and desirable.
He ran one hand up his cock in a long, massaging sweep. With the other hand, he lifted Sheila's hand, limp but warm. He put it to his hard, ram-pant cock, wrapping her fingers around that hot, turgid pole.
Slowly, her fingers tightened around his cock. They became warmer. Then they came to life. Her hand began to slide up and down his huge erection with velvety smoothness.
Her eyes opened. She smiled.
"What a way to wake up!" she said.
She rose in the bed and began to jack him off, her eyes staring at the immense erection that her hand held. She dampened her lips. With her free hand she pushed back a swath of beautiful auburn hair that had fallen across her face.
"I didn't think rd get to feel that big thing!" she said. "I thought you'd gone to bed."
"I was starting to bed but it was occupied. Harry and Mandy were balling. I got so damned turned on I came in here."
"I'm glad you did," she said.
Maggie rolled over on the bed, on her back, her eyelashes fluttering. Now her rocket-like tits jutted up from her body, the nipples a dull coral, moving faintly with her soft respiration.
He stretched out a hand, stroking it across first one, then the other nipple. Again. The nipples hardened. Her boobs seemed to swell before him, appearing to fill with milk. He ran his palm under the soft underside of one, stroking it forward until he cupped her tit.
She whispered something in her half-sleep.
"What did she say?" he asked, turning toward Sheila.
"Something erotic," Sheila said.
John began to stroke Maggie's other tit, running his forefinger around the aureole. Her eyelashes batted.
Sheila pumped his cock harder, her hand held loosely to his cock now, so that it ran up and down his staff in a wispy glove. It continued to harden and grow fat.
"I don't know how long I can bear this," Sheila said. "I want this big hammer in my cunt, honey!"
"Try sucking it awhile," Harry said. "I'm not quite ready to fuck you."
She ran her tongue from her mouth and wetted her lips. Her eyes widened. Then she lowered her head, touching her wet tongue to his cock's head and running it down that hard, hot staff to his balls, slowly and tantalizingly. The come swam deliriously in his balls.
Maggie's eyes opened as he massaged her breasts with a firmer kneading. Her face glowed with the discovery that she wasn't just dreaming.
"John, you're a devil! We thought you'd gone to bed."
"How in the hell could I go to bed with two luscious chicks like you sleeping nude only two doors away!" he said.
He followed Maggie's eyes as they moved and fixed on Sheila's bobbing head, rising and falling on his cock.
"I love to watch Sheila suck cock," Maggie said. "She gets so wet and excited she drools."
Maggie took his hand and moved it down her body, stroking it across her cunt. Her pubic hair was spongy and wiry. and already dewy. He ran his forefinger between the brown labia, pushing for-ward to rap her clit. She sighed.
Sheila's lips, rosy and warm, pressed firmly around his cock as she concentrated her energetic mouth action around the tip of his prick. Her eyes were hot with passion and her tits jiggled as she mouth fucked him. A stream of drool ran in a thick finger down his cock onto his balls.
He sawed his forefinger across Maggie's large, in-flamed clit.
"That's nice," she said. She began to play with her own tits as he fingerfucked her.
Hers was a smooth, wet pussy, well trained. It opened and closed around his finger in quick, hungry bites.
"Put more in me," Maggie begged.
Then he remembered she'd been fucked earlier with a fat dildo. No wonder she wanted more. He was just teasing her.
"Where's that dildo?" he asked.
"We left it in the bathroom, but you can use this!"
He felt her reach out and fumble around on the nightstand. Then she put something hard and smooth and yellow and unpeeled into his hand.
He grasped the banana and just stared for a moment as his loins tingled from the smooth, even caresses of Sheila's supple mouth.
Maggie giggled. "It was part of my bed-time snack. I just got so sleepy I didn't get to it. I'm glad I didn't."
"Christ! I didn't even know I had any in the house."
It was an extremely long banana, almost crescent-shaped.
"Do you want to take it peeled or unpeeled," he asked jokingly.
"Unpeeled, silly. It would break off!"
Pleased with the thought of that long, yellow rod running up seemingly insatiable cunt, he guided it toward her, as Sheila kept sucking his huge, throbbing hard-on.
He slid the fruit into Maggie's cunt "slowly and she squealed.
"Hell, that feels better than cock!" she panted. "Ram it on in, John."
He did, watching the curved fruit slip under the upper lip of her cunt, knowing it was sawing across her hot clit.
"Now, move it ... move it hard," she asked.
He rocked the yellow rod into her, watching her eyes snap closed and her body writhe as her whole pelvic region responded to the strange intruder.
Faster, he stroked it into her as she hunched.
Think of the poor slobs in the Kitty Kat who'd like to have their cock where this damn banana is. It's some kind of horrible joke!
Her fits, their creamy masses firm and taut on her chest, the nipples like little brown towers, bounced softly as he plunged the banana into her repeatedly.
She'd become silent, lost in the ecstasy of the strange fucking.
It was turning him on.
The pleasure of watching Maggie being fucked with a banana while Sheila slid her full, wet mouth up and down in long, succulent rolls on his cock, making such a slurping noise that she seemed to be enjoying a delicious double-decker ice cream, would soon snap his own control. He didn't want to come so soon. That ruined sex; he'd learned that long ago. Prolong it and then orgasm is much, much better.
Maggie's long legs, shiny and sexy, began to tremble and her lower body to quake as he rammed the banana more forcefully up her, focusing its long, smooth friction against her clit.
"A little faster!" Maggie begged. Her eyes opened, in a daze, and she began to watch his fast-moving hand as he directed the oddly shaped banana into her cunt. It was so wet the banana had become coated with pussy sap, riding smoothly into her now.
Sheila was now making gasping sounds. Her eyes bulged, her mouth slowed.
She slurped loose.
"My god, you were choking me," Sheila said. She wore a surprised, hurt look on her face. "I could feel your dick growing and growing. You must really be turned on, man."
"I'm sorry, Sheila."
"Hey, quit rapping and make me come!" Maggie shouted.
John straddled her and took a stronger hold on the fruit. He directed the banana tip in short, staccato bursts against her clit.
"Ohhhhhhhhhh!" she cried. "That's it. That's it. Keep it UP!"
Like a woodpecker, John used his hand, driving the yellow stick repeatedly against her clit. Rapping it.
Her body began to tremble. She jerked his hand from the banana and started using it herself, pulling it tighter against her clit as she raced it across her tissue.
Her face reddened as her body became more ex-cited.
"Wow!" Sheila said.
Then Maggie's hand fell limp and the banana bobbed in her cunt for a moment before it fell across her body.
She had come.
John looked at Sheila. Sheila's hand was up her cunt, pumping.
"No, you don't, you bitch! I'm going to fuck you -- not some hand or dildo or goddamned piece of fruit!"
Quickly, he spread her legs apart and guided his big erection between them, aiming for that pink slash, already wet, between her legs. She was feeling her tits, exciting herself, when its head pushed into her wanton cunt.
"Wow!" she shouted. "You can fuck me anytime, BIG BOY."
He plunged in 'all the way and withdrew in a long, easy backward stroke. He felt her smooth legs wrap around his back, her toes digging in.
"Stay in there!" she cried.
He tore back into her, ramming her butt against the sheet so forcefully her legs almost flew loose.
"You're raping me!" she cried. "But don't stop."
He fucked her harder, forcing the full length of his quick-sliding shaft to the heart of her fruit. He reached up with both hands and caught her bouncing tits ip his hands, salving his hard palms with their smoothness. He squeezed them, gingerly testing their texture and firmness. Pleased, he kneaded them fully, with his fingers splayed over them.
Then, conscious of their weight, he played a game, releasing them. They sprang back into position -- succulent balls. Now he tweaked her nipples -- hard buttons.
Her face became flushed with passion and she groaned under the heavy pounding of his completely erect, unsatisfied prick. As it rode and swelled in her body, she seemed to be packed with it, so thrilled her legs gripped and re-gripped his back, to reassure herself that he wouldn't suddenly take it away from her -- that fantastically big and agile prong that was turning her cunt into a gushing spring.
"Damn if you can't fuck!" Maggie squealed, curling close to them, her head only inches from his cock as he fucked Sheila. "I'm getting all turned on again!"
Maggie slid up alongside the pounding bodies.
As he stuffed Sheila with cock, he watched Maggie writhe, wetting her lips as she re-inserted the curved, stiff banana up her still-wet cunt.
Slowly, not taking her eyes from his pistoning cock, her face drenched with passion, she drove the fruit all the way into her sumptuous maw and pumped it gently.
"Fuck me when you're finished, please!" Maggie panted.
"Hey, quit interfering with my sex life!" Sheila snapped, rising up on her elbows.
John didn't even slow up. What he was getting was too good.
Sheila squirmed furiously to accommodate her-self to his wildly plunging cock. She became some-thing of an actress, perhaps spurred by Maggie's desire to be fucked by him. Her groans became louder, her responses greater.
Her greedy cunt made slushing sounds as it slid smoothly over his hard staff of flesh, so dramatically joining their excited, nude bodies.
His juice-coated cockhead had so violated her cunt lips that they were spread wide, sparkling with her own juices. They were petals of shiny pink.
Keeping his hands on her tits, caging them, he roamed their silky surfaces. They were so delectable he felt a sudden desire to rip them from their tender anchors.
"Ouch!" Sheila said. "Easy, John!"
He loosened his hold On her boobs, watching the pain draw from her face and pleasure return.
Enveloped in her juicy cunt, his massive, hard tool worked so smoothly it appeared to be running on a lubricated track. It was -- the oil was her cunt juice.
"Fuck her harder!" Maggie shouted. Her own body was bouncing on the bed, eagerly meeting the thrusts of her hand as it jammed the huge banana up her. Her own excitement seemed timed to his.
Letting her tits fly loose to bounce by themselves in a sexy dance across her chest, he gripped Sheila's svelte thighs, pulling her body in a more focused position on his cock a Her soft legs slid down his body, grasping him, around the hips.
"Now let's sho'.v Maggie how we can really fuck, Sheila!"
"I ... if."
He implanted his cock far up inside her with a vicious, deep thrust that elicited a cry. The sudden, violent force of his entry into that mass of burning cunt tissue took her off guard.
Her supple, willowy body soon was accommodating itself to the new fury of his cock drives. Her ass slipped and slid on the sheet as he balled her.
Her mouth fell ajar and oozed drool as he slammed his cock to her, devouring her rich, smooth body. His grunts matched her groans as he drove hard up her.
Her soppy cunt rhythmically contracted around his hard-driving rod, as she tried to soften the power of his blows and attempted to milk his cock of its creamy bounty.
Her entire pelvis shook as he rocketed cock into her, aware of the other beautiful girl who was trembling with ecstasy from her own exertions.
He stabbed and probed and fucked so hard he felt his cock growing raw. He wondered if she was one of those sexy but frigid woman who never came.
Faster, in an overwhelming desire to bring her to orgasm, he balled. The bed shook, the woman next to him faded into a blur as he concentrated all his strength on making Sheila come, come, come.
He started to sweat profusely. It dripped from his loins and his arms as he fired cock up her.
When the first explosion came it rocked her hips. They shook so hard she had to hold them as her voice weakly cried: "I came! I came!"
He kept pumping, fascinated with his own need to come. He wiped from his mind the feelings of strain in his loins and hips. Her body, still trembling, became aroused again, slowly regaining its tautness. Her skin warmed and her eyes glazed again as he mounted her with increasing force.
He was driving his prick so hard up her he thought it would split open her body.
"I love it!" she shouted. "Make me come again!"
As his cock parted her wet, clutching cunt, she closed her eyes and flailed her hair.
"Ohhhhhhhhh ... ohhhhhhhh, my god!" she whimpered. Her lips bobbed and her pussy ejected its nectar as she came.
John glanced at the dark-headed Maggie, whip-ping the stiff banana into her cunt, her hips raised high. "Don't come!" he shouted. "Dammit, don't come!"
His voice stopped her. She slowed up and trained her green eyes on him. "I'm so hot, I've got to."
"Hold on!"
"Fuck me, fuck me," Sheila demanded.
"You've had yours!" John said. "Dammit, you've come twice."
"Please!" Sheila begged.
"I'll get back to you."
He glided back, watching his cock exit from her still excited body -- red, long, so broad at the end it seemed like an apple. Cunt juice dripped from it.
"Goody, goody!" Maggie said, seeing it.
With a single movement she whipped the long banana from her cunt and threw it to the floor.
He watched as the inched open her legs. Her cunt was all pink -- pink and wet -- even the lips. Her pubic hair, wily and dark, formed a beautiful crown around it. Her legs were even shapelier than Sheila's.
"Please hurry, John!"
He drove into her so hard he took her breath, feeling her ass bounce against the bed. Her eyes registered shock and then pleasure as he balled her in a flurry of powerful, reaming strokes. He swamped her cunt with cock.
The lips of her snatch spread like waves as he imbedded his tremendous rod up that long, hot pas-sage, sending convulsions up her pelvis on each dramatic plunge.
As he plowed steadily into her, her gleaming body arched up, trying to assuage his cock's raging blows. She eagerly watched as she propped herself on her elbows, mesmerized by his bulbous-headed cock's popping into and out of her.
"I love to watch!" she cried out. "I love seeing it lurch into me. I. love to see its red-coated withdrawal."
Pleased with her reaction, he drummed into her tempestuous chamber, leaving only the base of his bruising cock exposed, and then inched his prick out, tantalizing her with its slow, exciting exodus. It dripped cunt sap.
"God, that's sexy!" she squealed. "It's wringing wet with my cunt juice."
With a sudden slurp, using his hand, he freed the mammoth hunk of meat, the skin stretched tautly back from the broad, vermilion head. It was very red and very hard and it looked as though it had just had a shower. It had -- in her cunt.
Maggie smacked her lips and wriggled her body. Teasingly, she ran the soft bottoms of her feet up and down his hips in a shimmery massage.
"Slam it to me, John!" Maggie pleaded.
Watching its head mushroom, he guided his prick toward her opening snatch -- an oval of glistening cunt juice. Mopping that huge, throbbing head in the wetness of her labia, he titillated her until she was writhing all over the bed. Her lovely body was taut with need -- the need for cock to conquer her and bring her to orgasm.
"Plug it into me!" she cried.
He directed his cock into the vestibule of her vagina and immediately she closed warm, soppy tissue around its massive, hard head.
In fascination, he watched her deliciously wet and supple cunt close around his cock as she shoved her grasping, velvety cunt all over it, using her hips to help her envelop it. Pussy sounds slapped wantonly from her cunt, loud and wet, as she hunched, bucking her body up firmly, aided by her strong hands. Soon she'd swallowed his cock in a twisting, grinding cauldron of pleasure.
In hard jerks, she sent her burning cunt over his cock, riding her clit hard against its prodigious thickness. Helplessly in the grip of lust, she balled harder and harder. He semi-relaxed, enjoying her zest and her skill.
Her body went flying up to his. Each of her thrusts was triggered with need, with an all-encompassing passion.
Faster and faster she humped, taking his dick into her greedy, marshy cunt with a kind of addictive zeal. The glove she'd made of her sweet, gushing pussy had grown bigger and juicier.
He felt a ring of tension closing in his balls. Come boiled and pressure built. He began to force his cock into her with the power of his own hips, snapping her movements.
As her legs thrashed him fiercely, she threw her arms around his waist and pulled, seemingly trying to merge his body with hers, to drive his huge spike all the way up her or through her gorgeous body. Her tits, ravishingly shapely, bobbed and swayed, their brown nipples turgid.
Ripples broke across the flesh of her midriff, so violent was her balling.
"Tear me up!" she shouted.
The words exploded into his ears, supremely ex-citing. He forced cock into her so hard now she lost her rhythm and he assumed complete control.
He ground prick into her luscious, gaping, wet cunt so forcefully that her hips created craters in the hard mattress.
He grabbed her beautiful, bouncy breasts, one in each hand, and firmly pinched those hard nipples. She cried out, but moved her hands beneath her breasts, cupping them up to him.
As he fired cock into her, he roughly ran his fingers over her aureoles, across those puckered fields, and that really turned her on. He gathered those firm balls in his hands and pulled until she shrieked.
"I can't take it all!"
He released her tits and she fell back, a dazed look on her face.
"You asked me to tear you up, dammit!" he said huskily.
He was so turned on that even his voice sounded strange to him. He knew he was all animal now and his great need had to be satisfied.
"Just fuck me!" she said.
Dammit if I've ever met a showgirl who didn't treasure her tits. They all think their tits are worth their weight in gold.
Swallowing his incessantly pounding prick in the wide, wet mouth of her cunt, she dropped her legs sinuously down his hips and rubbed their velvet along his legs.
Leaning back farther each time, to add more force to his drives, he bombarded her with cock, cock so aroused it was as hard as rock, plunging deeper into the warm abyss that closed and clutched around it.
They began to rock together, their bodies forming a strange swinging union now. They seesawed, his cock swinging viciously into her, her cunt swinging deliciously forward to meet its blunt hardness.
Back and forth.
A wide-eyed witness to it all, Sheila continued to ram a finger up her cunt, her gaze frozen on the couple fucking so violently on the same bed with her.
In an instant, before he had time to stop it, a stream of hot come burst into Maggie's wet furrow, painting it with fire. He plunged more cock into her even as his prick lost its bounty.
She moaned, knowing he was coming, catching those last violent eruptions of his body to come her-self, concentrating all her sensibilities on it.
In quick, swift jerks she reamed her cunt on his still hard, moving prick.. She came, too, her body breaking into a spasm that broke it from his.
Now only Sheila's soft sighs filled the room as she swiftly brought herself to orgasm with deft, quick-moving fingers.
The room was perfumed with sex.
CHAPTER FOUR
In his grey corduroy robe, John Cole stretched out on the living room sofa, a science fiction novel in one hand, a drink in the other.
He lay back against a fat orange pillow and took a sip of his whiskey and soda before he cracked open the novel. The first words . grabbed him and soon he lost himself in the swirling darkness of outer space. As he read, he began to feel a certain leanness of spirit, a freedom, his business worries and fatigue falling away.
He'd nearly completed the novel -- he was a fast reader -- when his apartment bell sounded. Three times. It startled him, he was so lost in print.
He went to the door. Before he reached up to unlatch the safety chain he glanced sharply at his watch. Nearly 1 a.m.
A voice on the other side shouted: "Surprise!"
John recognized the voice. It was unmistakable. There weren't two whiskey voices like that, sounding like gravel being dumped into the Grand Canyon, in the whole world.
John opened the door.
Harry Bacon smiled drunkenly into his face. His eyes were so bloody they seemed to have been dipped in a Bloody Mary. He also had acquired that unkept look a drunk easily picks up after several hours of hard, late night drinking. Wrinkled shirt, dirty fingernails, mussed up hair, a greasy face, and a silly, shit-eating smile.
At first John didn't see the girl.
"Well, aren't you going to invite us in?" Harry asked. He tried to light his cigarette.
"Sure, come in."
The girl came fully into view as John swung wide the door. She was a knockout who also conveyed the impression of being a "nice" girl. Her brunette hair, thick and rich, fell nearly to her waist. Her grey eyes warmed when she looked at John. Because she wore no make-up, she seemed not to need it---one of those rare women not benefited by a touch of cosmetics somewhere. Her skin was flawless, a smooth, caramel color that reminded John of expensive candy, or a rich liqueur.
Harry practically dragged her into the room. John could tell she was embarrassed.
"John, this is Rowena Vukonovic."
Rowena's grey eyes flashed anger. "I tried to get him to go home, John, but he insisted we come by here."
"I don't mind," John said. He smiled. "Harry's day doesn't start until noon, which means dinner time arrives around midnight."
"Course you don't mind, old buddy. You're my best friend. How 'bout a little drink, old buddy. Rowena, how about you fixin' me somethin' to eat?"
"I'm not your maid and cook!" she snapped.
Harry's got himself a fire-breathing feminist. This little chick's not about to play Sancho to his Don Quixote. Good for her!
"I didn't say you were," Harry said. His eyes be-came as pleading as a beagle's. His mouth developed a gentle curve. "I'm hungry, that's all, baby ... haven't eaten a crumb since I got up. I tell you I'm tottering on my poor old limbs."
Rowena smiled. "Oh, all right, Harry. I know you're starved and in your condition you couldn't break an egg. I just hate to barge into your place, John, and start eating up your food and drinking your liquor."
"Friends are for sponging on. Hell, I've even shaved this character and dressed him so he wouldn't miss an important photo assignment. I don't mind. The kitchen's to the right. Just help yourself."
She appeared to cheer up now. "Do you want something to eat?" she asked sweetly.
"No, I never eat anything before going to bed. Makes me sleep badly."
Harry, ignoring them, careened into an orange butterfly chair and finally managed to light his cigarette. He inhaled deeply, as if he were taking his last drag.
John watched Rowena as she crossed the room into the kitchen. Her smooth, firm buttocks rode smoothly against the fabric of her slacks. Gorgeously plump but taut, her boobs lurched against her silky white blouse. She was long-limbed, her feet in sexy leather sandals.
"Isn't she a beaut?" Harry asked. His eyes sparkled and he wore a smile that told John he wasn't so drunk he wasn't aware that John found Rowena attractive.
"Yes, she is ... seems to have some sense, too, and a big streak of independence."
"That's why I luv her, Johnny. She's a little bob-cat. Smarter than a whip, too."
John moved to the bar and took a fifth of Old Barton from the cabinet below it, opening the fresh bottle with a twist that broke the plastic sealer. He poured a drink for each of them.
"How'd you meet her?" John asked.
"She models for me," Harry answered. "Helps pay her art center tuition. The kid has a hard time of it. Also has another job, in a gift shop or something."
John tasted the Old Barton. Mellow. Warm going down. He took the other drink to Harry.
As he handed the drink to him, John said: "Now this stuff's rationed ... this one and maybe one more. I don't want you passing out on me!"
"Ah, fuck you! I can hold my liquor."
He killed off the shot of Old Barton and stared absentmindedly at the cigarette burning low between two fingers.
"I love that little gal," he said. "I mean it, John." He looked up and his eyes found John's. There was something sad and remote about his expression that made John wonder if Rowena loved him.
"When are you getting married?" John asked.
Harry squinted his eyes and put his finger to his mouth. "Sssh! You talk too loudly. Rowena will hear."
The truth began to dawn on John.
The door edged open and Rowena returned with a huge tray laden with steaming food.
"Smells great!" Harry said.
"Just some bacon and scrambled eggs, toast and plenty of hot black coffee."
She put the tray on the hassock before Harry, buttered his toast and poured his coffee.
It delighted John to watch her. Each movement fascinated him. She did everything so easily. She had a way of cocking her head, throwing back her long, lustrous brown hair whenever it fell in front of her face.
Now she curled up on the floor and seemed con-tent. But the moments of peace didn't last long. The food seemed, to refuel Harry's cantankerousness.
"Who was that kid I saw you leave the center with tonight?" Harry asked.
She looked surprised. "I didn't ..."
"Dammit, don't lie to me!" Harry snarled. "I saw you, dammit. I saw you with a man."
"I stayed behind to ask Mr. Anscrow some questions about an exam, but I wasn't with any kids."
"Who's this Anscrow?" Harry asked.
"My instructor, Harry."
"Is he tall and skinny and curly headed?" Harry asked suspiciously.
"YES," she said, her own anger rising. "Now you listen to me, Harry Bacon, you've no right to question me like this. I'm not your wife!"
Harry jerked up from the chair. His face, a blotchy red balloon, seemed about to burst.
For a moment, John thought Harry was going to jerk the girl up from the floor and slap her hard or shake her. But as suddenly the anger seemed to drain from him.
"I need to take a walk," he said. "Rowena, I'm sorry I got angry with you. I'll be back in half an hour."
John lit a cigarette and studied the girl's face as she watched Harry leave. It was like a fine cameo. Her grey eyes were huge and moist and her dark eyelashes long and fine.
"Harry's very possessive," she said. "He's this way about everyone."
"I know."
"He wants me to marry him."
John decided it'd be better to change the subject.
"Cigarette?" he asked.
"No, thanks. I seldom smoke."
"Do you like to read?" he asked.
"I love to. I like science fiction."
"Really? I do, too. I was reading an Asimov novel when you and Harry came."
"I liked Robert Silverberg's Moonferns and Star-songs," she said.
His eyes met hers and for a moment held them. But she turned away, a faint blush on her face.
She rose, walking to the living room window to look at the busy street below, where traffic moved like strings of pearls.
He joined her.
"I bet Harry's walking in the park," she said. "I worry about him. He's really just a big little boy."
"Three people have been mugged in this neighborhood in the past week," John said. "I should've told Harry. But he wouldn't have listened. He can take care of himself."
"Wasn't he a boxer in the Army?" she asked, not turning to face John, her gaze still below.
"Yeah. He was pretty good. Harry used to wrestle, too, in college."
There by the window they talked as they looked into the darkness. Small talk. She talked easily with him and he with her. He judged that she trusted him, and he banished any thought of going to bed with his best friend's girl, so the tension that some-times exists between strangers who're attracted to each other simply wasn't present. Yet he found her exciting. He knew she'd be a hard one to lure to the bedroom if he had the freedom to try.
He found out, that she was of gypsy origin and that her parents had divorced because of her father's drinking. Two years later the father had committed suicide. The mother had remarried and now lived on the West Coast. Except for an old aunt living in New York, she had no relatives in the city and few close friends.
"It's nearly two o'clock," she said suddenly. "I have an eight o'clock class."
"I'll take you home, Rowena," John said. "If Harry shows, I'll make him spend the night."
"Thanks, John."
On the long drive to Greenwich Village they said little, but he felt comfortable with her. He didn't feel the need to talk.
He saw her to her door.
For a moment she was smiling before him, thanking him. Her face was young and vital, her eyes bright, her mouth proud and ripe, wide and succulent. The next moment the door was closed. A dark panel of wood stared back at him.
He became aware of the odors of the old building. It was dank and a faint odor of disinfectant lingered. He hurried out of the building into the summer air. The garbage collectors already were making the rounds. Cans banged the length of the street as men cursed and joked.
Getting into his Alfa Romeo, he lit a cigarette. He started the car and turned on the radio, tuning in a rock station.
Her face hung in his memory, her smiling oval face as smooth and burnished as a rare, caramel-toned cameo. No wonder Harry had fallen for this kid. It wouldn't be hard.
It was 3:05 when he reached his place, but he didn't feel at all tired. The minute he stepped into his living room he knew he had a guest and it wasn't Harry Bacon. The fragrance of L'Aimant that seeped into his nostrils was Nicole Baker's calling card.
Another of his keyholders, she sometimes used his apartment when he was on vacation or when she didn't feel like driving to her own place in Jersey.
He wondered whether she'd gone to the guest bedroom or decided to bed down in his bed. Tiptoeing up the hallway, he nudged open his bedroom door. Propped up with two fat pillows behind her lovely blond head, Nicole was reading a paperback, spread like a fan before her.
The sheet reached up to her waist. From the waist up, she was nude. Sprays of blond hair forked over her beautiful, full-blown tits, cocoa brown, firm and plump.
She laid down the book.
"Johnny!"
"Hi, stranger," he said, smiling.
"I've been in Europe."
"Business or pleasure?" he asked.
"Both."
He began to undress.
"Johnny, I always miss you! Nobody makes love so well."
"Thanks."
"Do you feel like it tonight?" she asked.
He hung his suit in the closet and carefully placed his shoes on the rack just inside the big walk-in. When he emerged from the closet he was stripped down to his boxer shorts.
"Hell yes, I feel like making love," he said. "Slide over."
He climbed into the bed, taking her in his arms and kissing her.
"Damn, you smell good," he said. "You always smell good. Your lips taste good, too."
"Thanks, Johnny. I'm wearing a raspberry lip-stick. Taste like jam, doesn't it?"
He held her face in both hands, staring into her rich brown eyes, flecked with yellow. Nicole Baker, a lovely, lovely woman, had had some of the wealthiest pricks in the country up her cunt. A kind of super-star call girl now, she'd once been one of his models. Once? How many years ago? Four or five? God, the years were going by too fast.
"Has a drunk named Harry Bacon barged into the place?" he asked.
"Harry Bacon, the photographer?" she asked. "No. Is he supposed to? I haven't seen Harry for months."
"He was here earlier with a friend," John said. "They argued and he split. I figured he'd come back after he sobered up."
"Oh," she said.
"I ... " He started another sentence.
But she closed his mouth with her thick, wet lips, so succulent they were like an exotic fruit, and her tongue plunged into his mouth, rolling about in it, threshing around in it.
He began using his own tongue now, outmaneuvering hers. He pressed her head back on the pillow forcefully and felt her huge tits jab their cherry but-tons into his chest as he kissed her.
Her hands reached behind his head and pressed, and her body moved as she jiggled her tits, pulling him even harder to her.
Sweet.
"Do you still like to be titty fucked?" he asked. "I love it, Johnny."
He pulled back in the bed, stripping off his shorts, freeing his mammoth cock.
"Lie flat!" he said.
Her eyes followed the pulsating rhythm of his blood-engorged cock as it grew, thickening and lengthening, its round head becoming larger and slicker and redder as his erection developed.
He scraped its immense stalk along the velvety skin of her midriff, tantalizing her, watching the saliva drip from her lips.
Easily, on the track of her satiny skin, his huge, hot erection coasted up between her enormous tits. She put her long fingers to those huge, soft mounds and closed them around his hard-on as it slid across her breast.
The sensation of those velvety pods, firm and hard-nippled, rubbing his hot hot rod, made his cock lurch forward, thicker and longer.
She squealed, delighted with its emergence, like a jack-in-the-box, right before her face. Her tongue darted out, pink and supple and wet.
He jammed his cock harder up that silky track until her lips, opening, accepted the tremendously hard head of it in the warm, wet cavern of her mouth.
Her lips closed in a raspberry red ring of sweet female flesh around his cock. Her eyes flashed desire as she rode her head forward, taking more of his cock. Her mouth was so wet that drool escaped from it, coating his cock.
Her mouth bloated with cock, she began to move up and down its hard, quivering length. Spreading wide and luscious, her dripping mouth oiled his huge horn, She'd made a hot, flashy compress of her lips and mouth and it smeared itself with wet, hot succulence onto the thick, hard rod of meat up her throat.
His balls felt swollen, filled with swirling come that wanted to paint her tonsils. Delicious and pro-longed, each insertion into her sumptuously agile mouth stirred the fire in his boiling semen. His eyes drank up the lust in her beautiful face.
Loving every inch of hot cock he threw into her face, she began to run the shapely, pointed nails of her hands in light, teasing patterns on those hot, bloated balls, gently clawing them until his cock throbbed in her mouth.
With an addict's fervor, she sucked and slurped as she played her nails around his balls. It was an incredible joy to see her sensuous mouth bulging around his long bone, fully up her face. Her jaws were strained, her cheeks flushed as she nested that rod of fire.
"Damn, I think I'm going to blow my wad!" he said.
Her eyes widened in surprise and, reluctantly, she let her mouth slowly slither back until his bobbing bulb of red cockhead hit air, its surface shiny.
"Don't come yet, please!" she said. "I love sucking it."
"Then don't give me such a beautiful blow job," he said. "Take it easy."
She grinned. "I'll try."
She stroked her forefinger up his quivering cock's underside as she drooled.
"Christ, that's one hell of a cock," she said, her eyes frozen to it, her voice thick.
She pushed her lovely ripe lips, ringed with drool, toward it again and opened her mouth wide. Her eyes sparkled.
Her mouth seemed like a huge, wet, super-soft sponge as it sank around his erection and massaged, so slowly her mouth seemed to suck in slow motion. With languid, wet caresses, carefully measured, she ate cock, wanting to keep it, wanting the pleasure of that thick slab in her mouth.
She sucked it as though it were the last lollipop in the world, savoring every inch, wallowing in its turgid fullness. Almost imperceptibly, she began to suck faster, consumed by her own lust for cock. Her lips made sexy, rubbery sounds as she feasted on his prick.
Finally, her discipline snapped and she started lurching up and down the stiff length of his prick, her lips smacking flesh, her eyes wanton.
He grew more excited. Again, the come danced hot in his balls. He held her head; he adjusted her rich, damp mouth to ride smoothly along his cock.
Her breathing became raspy as she focused on sucking, sucking, sucking that wonderful, hard wand that gave her such ecstasy. In and out, rap-idly and passionately, his prick pumped her mouth. She tilted her head forward as he gripped her harder and slammed it to her, the come building to an inferno in his balls.
The fragrance of her expensive perfume curled into his nostrils arid the opulence of her body, shimmering in passion, excited him.
His hips started rocking as he swept his gigantic hammer to and fro in the wet fruit of her mouth. She was so hot he knew her cunt was running. She was so hot she might come from the excitement of making him come.
He braked the ferocious lunging of his cock up her mouth and watched her suck harder, thinking he was going to take it from her.
She began to squeeze her lips in rapturous delight against the thick, hot girth of his cock and to flood his prick with drool.
He grasped her hard-tipped tits and kneaded them. Then, using these delicious, hard knobs of flesh as handles, he jerked her head back and forth on his huge cock, losing his restraint. She loved that.
With a mouth full of cock, she started to whim-per and sigh in a spasm of lust.
As she sucked and slurped, her tits danced in languid circles, the rosy nipples biting the air. He stroked into her harder, watching her mouth twitch around the bold diameter of his prick. The hot, saliva-drenched tissues of her mouth sucked in and he saw she was in ecstasy.
A born cocksucker!
She loved to suck big hot cock the way other women wallow in fucking.
He drove it to her with the urgency of the strongly churned come seeking release from his balls. Her soft, wet mouth rolled along his ribald cock's scorching length, encasing it and licking on it and teasing it with her practiced maneuvers.
Faster and faster. It lengthened in her mouth and threatened to choke her. But, forcing herself to accommodate it, she drove her mouth to the hilt of his prick, until her full lips smacked his balls, then rode back, her eyes huge with awe.
Then, before he truly realized it, he found him-self thinking about Rowena. Her face loomed before him. He saw her fresh, young mouth and her grey eyes as he rammed cock up Nicole's face.
He closed his eyes and the sensation was more real. He was fucking Rowena's full, ripe mouth, enraptured with the pleased smile on her face.
"Christ, you're turned on," Nicole said. "I never felt a cock so thick and hard."
"Keep sucking me, Nicole. Keep it up!"
Sweet, sucking, clutching, drooling mouth. His cock sated itself, pushing into her, exiting, catching the nectar of her mouth like dew on its long, throbbing rod.
He mouthfucked her passionately.
His cock seemed to be implanted far up her face, spun into it, her tissues sprinkling warm oil on it so that it swooshed easily in and out of her regally soft and pliant mouth.
She closed her eyes as he hammered cock into that tight, juicy ring. Her mushy, cupping maw licked and sucked.
The semen boiled up from his pounding balls and jetted into her beautiful face. Her nostrils flaring, her eyes blazing with lust, she drank it up. Thirstily she drank it up.
"Fantastic!" she said in a husky voice, her mouth drooling his albescent come.
CHAPTER FIVE
"John?" the voice on the telephone asked.
"I almost didn't recognize your voice, Harry. Where are you, in a rain barrel or something?"
"I'm trying to 'lick a monumental hangover, buddy ... my mouth's like a piece of sandpaper and my stomach keeps trying to crowd into my mouth. Did Rowena get home okay?"
"Sure. She's a nice chick, Harry."
"I know ... listen, buddy, I'm going to Thou-sand Oaks to take the cure. It's an upstate drying out pad for drunks. Look after Rowena while I'm gone, will you, John? Take her out to dinner or something."
John hesitated. He felt the palms of his hands dampen. "I'm pretty busy now, Harry ... I won't have time."
"Don't give me that," Harry said. "I know you don't work at night anymore. You don't need to. It'd be a big favor, ole buddy."
John lit a cigarette. "All right, I'll take her to dinner ... how long you expect to be gone?"
"Six, maybe seven days. I can't afford any longer, not at two hundred bills a day."
"If you need some money, Harry, I can ..
"No, I've got a few thousand. I just don't want to blow my whole bankroll to get straight. But thanks, John. You're a good friend."
"Harry ... hey, Harry, don't fuck yourself to death. I hear those private sanitarium nurses are something else."
Harry laughed. "I won't."
John cradled the receiver and turned his swivel chair away from the big window to face his desk. He felt uneasy. Nervously, he stomped out his cigarette in the big ceramic tray atop his desk. He fingered his letter-opener.
Dammit, why'd I let him talk me into taking that girl out!
Someone rapped on the door. He looked up. The rap came again -- softly.
"Come in!" he said somewhat petulantly.
The door edged open and a long, sleek bare leg housed in a high heel kicked into view. There was no mistaking that leg. It belonged to Candy Farris, one of his top-line models.
Her lovely body and face followed, and a charge went off in his balls as he saw how tightly she'd squeezed her lovely body into that yellow swimsuit that covered only a wee, wee portion of her satiny assets.
"Like it?" she asked.
"Love it!" he said lewdly.
"The swimsuit, I mean."
"It's sexy, and that's what swimsuits are all about," he said. He lit a cigarette and watched her curiously.
Hot pants?
"It's part of the new Cartina line. I'm modeling this one for a magazine spread. I thought you'd like to see it!"
"There really isn't much to see, is there?" he said, smiling. His black mood was lifting. His eyes raked over her body. "But do the Atlantic City boardwalk act anyway, baby. Parade that lovely body of yours. Make like you're on the beach and all the boys are drooling."
She spun around and closed the door behind her. That meant just one thing. She meant to stay for more than just a showing of the swimsuit.
Now, as he gaped she strolled to and fro across the thick carpeting beyond his desk, her back straight, her beautiful, beautiful bottom bouncing beneath the thin nylon ribbon of the bikini, her small but hard fits attractively constrained by the top.
The muscles of her thighs rolled deliciously against the sheen of her skin as she moved, her shapely legs taking the practiced turns of a professional model, turns that tantalized his cock.
She circled before him.
"My cock's hard, baby," he said.
"So soon?" she said, pausing. She tossed her tail of wavy, coppery red hair over her shoulder, and its tip brushed the smooth tan skin of her midriff.
"Do you have time for a quickie?" he asked. He shifted in the chair. His cock was hardening.
"I wouldn't be teasing you if I didn't," she said. She edged toward the desk, her tits taut against the yellow string of the Cartina.
Smiling, she sat on the edge of the shiny mahogany desk and crossed her bare legs, slicing the svelte calf of one across the other, bouncing it.
He got up, his heart beating faster, his palms be-coming sweaty; he was almost embarrassed by the protrusion of his heavy cock against his fly.
"Still like to dogfuck?" he asked, a note of mischief in his voice.
How she can assfuck!
"Love to," she said. She ran a forefinger over her full mouth, in a pillowy cupid's bow, and then sucked on her finger, suggestively. She "stopped bouncing her leg and her eyes drifted to his erection.
He started toward the intercom. "I'd better tell Karen to hold my calls," he said.
"I already did," Candy said, "before I came in."
"Then I'd better lock the door."
"I did that, too," she said, her voice husky.
"You always think of everything."
"It's been a long time," she said breathlessly as he lifted her from the desk, his arms around her naked waist.
"Two weeks anyway," he said, kissing her as he lowered her to the floor.
She looked him squarely in the face, her mouth only inches from his. "John, tell me something. Why are so many men impotent? You're one of the few men I can always depend upon to get it up and get it up fantastically."
Flattery.
"Maybe you intimidate them, Candy. You're a gorgeous woman. That happens, you know."
She laughed. "That's what my dad used to say."
"Want to ball on the floor or on the couch?" he said.
"On the floor," she said. "It's more primitive. John, please turn up the air conditioner. It's stuffy in here."
He released her, letting his hands wipe across the velvet of her waist, and walked to the window be-hind his desk to adjust the air conditioner. His cock ached for release.
She lay back on the carpeting and crossed her shapely legs, watching him. He quickly undressed down to his shorts and draped his clothes on the swivel chair.
He freed his cock s he watched her roll over, like some huge cat, het' choice bottom kissing air. Straddling her, he bent and snapped the yellow bikini.
She squealed and kicked off her high heels.
Then, slowly, as he relished the touch of her satiny skin and enjoyed the graphics of her body, its roundness and the grainy tan texture of her skin, he started to peel off the bikini string.
She raised her long, sexy legs, allowing him to slide off the bottom half of her swim suit. He grazed his fingers up the calf of one leg -- soft, sculpted flesh.
"Nice!" he said.
Excited, he put his tongue to her leg and licked up and down it as his cock throbbed.
"That feels good," she panted. "That's something else I like about you.", She turned her head so she could see him. "You take your time."
"My daddy always told me that all the fun in sex is in prolonging it."
He slid back, kissing her silky ankle, running his tongue in a delicious path over the soft cords of her veins. Her feet were exquisite. Spreading her legs, he craned his head forward and wormed his tongue into the dark cleft of her sassy bottom.
She jerked.
He withdrew his tongue and played with her sleek buttocks the way he'd knead tits, making them kiss, pressing them so firmly he created sexy pits in her satiny skin. Delightful little craters, as sexy as moles.
"Oh, that's soothing," she said. "My cunt's burning up
"Just don't wet my carpeting!" he said teasingly, feasting on her smooth, tan back, banded by the yellow nylon that stretched all the way around to cup her fruit-like breasts, as he stroked the resilient mounds of her bottom.
They were a balm to his hands. He loved to roam their surface as if he were petting breasts. He raised one hand and undid her bra, pulling the yellow fabric free of her body with a fleshy snap. He could visualize her tits popping out, the nipples with hard-ons, coral and sweet.
"Now -- arch up for me!" he said. "My dick's going to pay a visit."
"Oh, goodie," she said.
This chick's so damned appreciative! I love that sexy feedback.
He touched the satin of her butt with his hot cock, richly engorged with blood. His cock wept. He liked to tease it.
"That hammerhead's scorching hot!" she whimpered.
Twisting, she held her beautiful ass high, positioning it so that even the fur of her cunt was visible as he peeked between her legs. He could swear it wore a wreath of cunt juice. The soft, delicious folds of her thighs, tan and smooth, formed the sides of that voluptuous tunnel.
She wiggled.
He could bear it no longer.
Cramming his solid, hot cock up that inviting, nude corridor, he elicited a sigh when it sank into her warm, wet cunt. She squirmed to adjust her soppy pussy to the big knob screwing into her as he pushed forward.
Her cunt clamped in a spongy kiss around his tumescent cock, welcoming it as it, slid farther up her. Around and around she wiggled. Her ass bobbed.
Grabbing her upper thighs, his hands indenting the skin, he started his heavy tool jabbing into her, shaking her whole body. Her skin was like some rare, magical cloth, its texture changing, shadows dancing across it as he cocked her.
She began to skewer back on it, inundating his large cock with cunt juice. He fucked her harder and her pussy gripped his cock like an elastic band, a velvet one, sending electric tingles up his hairy loins.
"Bang ... bang!" she chimed. "Boy, can you fuck!"
Imagination. This kid's got imagination.
Her words fired him up.
"Hang on!" he shouted. "Brace yourself."
She flattened the palms of her hand into the carpeting and dug in with her shiny knees.
Then the storm came. His storm of lust. He gusted into her, unbridling his cock so hard it seemed like a tightly packed sausage. Pussy juice seemed to fly from her hard-worked cunt.
The hurricane force of his thick cock driving up her made her writhe in raw ecstasy and groan in deep pleasure. Her delectable breasts swung beneath her, the nipples erecting.
Her own surging lust erupted as she worked her firm rump cheeks hard against his in-sliding prick. The contracting heat of her cunt closed around his turgid cock, the fleshy lips clinging to the stalk as it slithered into the dripping flower of her body.
His searching hands caught and squeezed her flying tits and she shrieked from the pain-pleasure. He depressed the nipples as if he were pressing buttons on an elevator, unsure as to which floor he wanted.
"Oh, keep it up!" she cried.
He flew cock into her now with a force that took his own breath. Her smooth, tan body seemed about to topple.
Thick, liquid sighs flowed from her as he buffeted more and more firm cock into the wet, rocking cradle of her twitching cunt. Her choice flesh parted and she rolled and rocked on his big cock.
The hot glow and the glove-tight fit of her cunt were incredible. Each lunge soaked his cock in pleasure. Each lunge shook the balls of her beautiful ass.
He began to propel his torpedo into her quickly and she responded, skewering herself on his hard, crude cock. His balls, sweaty and bloated, banged the smooth, glass-like surface of her ass.
As he crammed and rammed more ruddy root into her cloying cunt, she began a frantic hunching that spread her luscious cunt all over his cock.
She was springing back onto his prick, her buttocks like slick nylon, coated with fine perspiration.
"That's soooo good, John!" she cried.
With an inspired burst of energy, his libido teased, he spilled her to the floor. Quickly, without warning, he slid his cock from her clutching, wet cunt and stuffed it into her ass crack.
She shrieked.
"Sssh," he cautioned. "There may be some clients in the outer office."
"Goddammit, that hurt! It still hurts!"
"It was plenty lubricated, honey, with your cunt sap. It'll get better You shouldn't possess such a sweet ass. I couldn't help myself."
Keeping it just inside her hole, he rolled his cock's head, reaming her open. Her skin puckered around his uncircumsised horn. She was dry and very tight.
"That any better?" he asked.
"It feels like a baseball bat!"
"Relax," he commanded.
He tenderly spread her firm buttocks, feeling her body glow return as he inched his long cudgel farther up her, knowing she was becoming accustomed to it now.
"Oh, Johnny!" she cried. "You touched some-thing."
That little nest of nerves. She'll be bobbing all over my cock in a moment!
With a surgeon's painstaking care, he shoved a little harder, his cock in her to his sweating balls. She went off like a ton of T.N.T.!
Her ravishingly round and sexy bottom bounced convulsively over his cock, feeding on his cock, stabbing up for more of it, gyrating madly along its scorching length.
Challenged, he battered her flat to the carpeting and poured prick to her, one long, searing blow after another.
As he threw cock to her, her buttocks batted shut, clinging to his prick with folds of titillating tan flesh. She pitched her body upwards, focusing her dry, warm hole on his cock's head as her buttocks shook like balls.
Her sumptuously beautiful legs scissored wider apart to give completely free entry to the mammoth piston of flesh that was splitting her tail with fire.
He totally embedded his cock in her anus on each stroke; he'd worked her groove that well. The fleshy, now flaccid tissue of her back hole rode hotly along his crimson plunger. Flesh in motion -- hot and raw.
The constant rapping of that huge invader had her squirming on the floor. Her breath came in gasps.
Ravenous, he tore into her, seeming to rip dry, cock-teasing flesh as her ass bobbed. Convulsions shook her frame. She swayed beneath him in total orgasm, her back end filled with cock, her front hole gushing pussy nectar.
He increased his tempo, pouring more dick into her until his balls ached.
Then, at last, he came. A hot stream of come poured into her hole. Volley after volley.
He fell back, watching his fountain still erupt. He glanced at the clock on the wall. It was unbelievable -- they'd been balling for more than an hour.
"Got to split," she said, rising, the two parts of her yellow swimsuit dangling in one hand. "Okay to use your washroom?"
"Sure, Candy ... there's cosmetics on the top shelf if you want to fix your face."
"I remember," she said cheerfully.
He staggered to his feet, dressed and lit a cigarette, absentmindedly listening to Candy sing as she bathed. A delightful girl.
That little sex workout had been enjoyable, certainly, but it hadn't worked its usual magic. He was still pissed off at, himself about his promise to Harry.
He wished he hadn't made it more than ever now, because when he'd come, when he'd fired that burst of semen into Candy ... he was thinking of Rowena.
Dammit!
CHAPTER SIX
Their hands coupled, they lingered outside, looking through the steamy -window of the Hungarian restaurant on Second Avenue.
It was a rare moment,' One he was fully enjoying. It was like looking into another world or at a stage play for a limited audience.
People were eating at three of the cheerfully decorated tables, covered with red cloths. Antique lamps, warm and inviting, brightened the tables. A waitress in a long, extravagantly gay peasant's costume was serving a middle-aged couple near the window.
Behind the bar rose a wall of liquor and liqueurs, amber and cocoa brown and mint green, in bottles of many shapes, with exotic labels. A bartender meticulously prepared drinks.
Near the bar an older man with coal black hair and a Salvador Dali mustache, eyes like ebony sequins, stroked his bow across his violin. He wore a white silk blouse with a red kerchief around his throat.
"Do you like Hungarian food?" Rowena asked.
"I don't think I've ever eaten any," John answered.
"It's different," she said. "Tangy. Come on, let's go in."
The rich aroma of cooked pork and vegetables, wafted from the kitchen into the main room, reached them as they stepped inside, and the exotic music danced into their ears -- a wild, vibrant music. Romany music.
A plump waitress appeared, leading them to a small table near the bar. As they sat down, the old violinist ended his song and came toward them as the waitress went after menus.
"Is there something you'd like to hear?" the musician asked, in a voice thick and mildly syrupy.
John now saw that the man was much older than he appeared from a distance. Liver marks spotted his hands and his eyes were a heavy liquid black, his skin very wrinkled.
"I love 'Tales of the Vienna Woods,' " Rowena said, cheerfully. The lamp light reflected in her eyes.
"Then you shall hear it, my dear," the violinist said.
He seemed pleased as he struck his bow to the taut strings of the handsome violin and closed his eyes. Around the restaurant he walked as he played, his hands bringing magic from the violin.
"He was a famous violinist in Austria before the German invasion," Rowena explained as she looked into John's eyes. "He worked in the Underground during the war. A gun wound in his right arm nearly ruined his playing arm. He's never been the same."
"He plays well."
"But not well enough ... you can imagine how beautifully he must have played before he was wounded."
"I'd hoped to see you again, Rowena," John said. "Then, when Harry asked me to take you out, I tried to squirm out of it."
"For heaven's sake, why?" she asked, her eyes so warm they seemed to be melting. Her face had a strange glow.
"Well, to be honest, I find you very attractive."
She blushed. "May I have a cigarette?" she asked.
"Sure."
He lit it for her, amused at the way she puffed on it.
"You don't ordinarily smoke, do you?" he asked.
"No. Just when I'm nervous."
They ordered potato soup and chicken paprikash with dumplings, palachinta for dessert and a bottle of rose.
Everything was delicious. As he sipped his wine and watched her polish off her dessert, he wondered if he should ask her to his place. He wanted to.
"Whatever are you pondering?" she asked.
"I was wondering if you like astronomy," he said.
"I love to look at the stars," she said. "It's an old gypsy pastime." She laughed.
"I have a new telescope," he said. It had been a reward to himself after he'd signed the contract with Ventura, Inc., a major sports clothes manufacturer. It was his way of motivating himself. "We can go to my place and try it out."
"I'd love to," she said.
The sweet orange blossom aroma of oriental incense seeped into their nostrils the moment they entered John's apartment.
"That's a delicious aroma," Rowena said.
"My maid's responsible -- Mary Wing," he answered. "She must've just left. She buys the incense at a little shop in Chinatown. For my birthday she bought me two brass buddhas; the tablets burn in their bellies."
Rowena laughed.
"I can always tell when Mary's been here -- she comes three days a week," he said. "She always leaves her trail of incense behind her. For all I know she brings her boyfriend with her and they make love while the incense burns."
"What a romantic notion!" Rowena said. She laid her leather shoulder bag on a chair.
"Do you want a drink?" he asked.
"No, John, thanks. That rose with dinner was heady enough."
"Come on," he said, crossing the room. "I'll show you the telescope."
He switched on lights all over the living room. The light brought out the dramatic contrast between the chocolate brown furnishings and the white carpeting and glittered on the glass accessories.
"Your place is lovely," Rowena said, stepping in front of the mantel to admire an abstract painting above it.
"Recognize it?" he asked.
"It's a Hans Hofmann, isn't it?"
"Yes. I bought it as my reward for a successful year last year. I hope this year's as prosperous."
He paused in the doorway between the living room and study and watched her. He wasn't trying to impress her. She'd already seen the apartment. But he was savoring her presence. She seemed to enjoy every minute with him.
"Come see my star gazer!" he said. He entered the study and waited for her. Everything was spotless. Even the teakwood paneling had been polished. The carpeting was clean, the tables dusted.
She entered the study.
"Well, here it is -- my telescope," he said, running a hand along the cool cylinder of the instrument.
She came up to him. He noticed she had avoided looking him in the eyes since they'd left the restaurant. John drew, back the thick mauve drapes and slid the tripod several feet to the right, then adjusted the lens and looked through the scope.
He brought the full moon into the eye of the instrument and made further adjustments until the orb's valleys and craters appeared like pockmarks on a gigantic gold ball. Glowing a wonderful yellow, the moon seemed crisp, a giant disc in the ebony, star-dusted blanket of sky.
By god, it's still a wonder!
"Let me see!" she said, with a little girl's glee.
"Sure." He moved aside. Their eyes met and locked for an instant. A kind of electricity passed between them, an electricity that sent a charge up his balls. His cock began to grow hard immediately.
Her lips parted.
Then the apartment bell rang.
"Dammit," he said aloud.
He watched relief spread across her face. The bell had saved her.
"Go ahead and take a look," he said. "I'll be back in a second. It's probably a delivery."
He lit a cigarette as he hurried into the living room.
The bell sounded again.
Shit!
He opened the door with a wide swing, ready to curse the intruder. The smiling face of Gloria Phelps met his grimace.
"I tried to call," she said. "Kept getting a busy signal, so I figured you were having a party, John. I know how you love parties!"
"I'm just entertaining a friend of a friend," he said. "Come on in, Gloria."
"Aren't you going to kiss me?" she said, swinging into the room.
He had to admit she looked wonderful. She'd lost a few pounds in the butt so that it looked even better. Her long, cocoa brown hair had been coiled into a tight bun on her head, a kind of tiara, and she wore a silky pants suit of an amber shade.
He kissed her lightly on the mouth.
"It's been months, John!" she sighed. "Just months."
"I know," he said.
This lovely thing has just saved my friendship with Harry Bacon. I should lick her beautiful cunt in thanks. If she hadn't shown up when she did I'd now be trying to lay that gorgeous little piece of tail in the next room.
"Where've you been?" he asked.
"In Europe, love ... London, Paris, Rome."
"Modeling?" he asked.
"Not exactly," she said, laughing. "Just living. I mean living." Gloria curled into a chair and stretched out her long legs before crossing them and lighting a Salem.
Another ex-Cole Agency girl.
She'd left his agency six years ago, to free-lance. She'd reached the top of the heap, too, but then had suddenly dropped from view. A kind of butterfly. The next he'd heard, she'd married an octogenarian millionaire who'd died six months after the marriage. Now, with a substantial inheritance and apartments in New York and London, she did as she pleased. Traveled a lot, bedded down with about six guys, including him. And it was always a pleasure. Gloria Phelps was a tremendously good lay.
He fixed her a martini and handed it to her, then prepared himself Old Barton on the rocks.
"Excuse me a minute," he said. "I want you to meet Rowena."
She was still using the telescope when he entered the study. She looked up.
"An old friend just dropped by -- Gloria Phelps," he said. "I'd like you to meet her."
As they entered the living room, Gloria looked up, a phony smile spreading across her face as she eyed Rowena.
"I bet you're an actress!" Gloria said, staring at Rowena.
"I'm an artist ... a student, really."
"She models for Harry Bacon," John said. "I'm sort of acting as caretaker of his best model while Harry's taking the cure."
John hated himself the moment he finished the explanation. It was condescending. He noticed the hurt look on Rowena's face, there for just an instant.
"Oh, I see," Gloria said. "I hope I'm not breaking up something."
She thinks she sees!
"As a matter of fact you're not, Gloria," Rowena said, a trace of petulance in her voice. "I was just going to ask John to take me home."
John looked at his watch. It was 10:45.
"It's early, Rowena," he said. "Why don't you hang around? I've got some new John Denver records."
"Thanks, John, but I need my sleep. I have an early class."
He felt used and abused and uncomfortable. Gloria obviously wanted to clear the decks for her own pleasure. Rowena had been hurt. Also, she seemed a bit jealous. He noticed she kept stealing glances at Gloria, impressed with her glamour. What Rowena didn't know was that it was only make-up that made Gloria's face look so smooth and young, and those expensive clothes and shoes that gave that body such appeal. Still and all, Gloria was a hell of a fine-looking woman.
Absentmindedly, John opened the clothes closet door.
"I didn't have a jacket," Rowena said.
"Christ, I thought you did!"
"Shall I go?" Gloria asked, putting out her cigarette and rising. "I don't want to be a bother."
Lovely, lovely bitch! Dammit, I'm going to fuck your cunt off when I get back.
"Suit yourself," he said noncommittally, knowing she wouldn't.
When he and Rowena reached her apartment and he parked, she quickly scooted across the leather bucket seat of his Alfa Romeo.
"No need to walk me to the door, John," she said. "I had a nice evening, really. Thanks."
He got out on his side and walked behind the car.
"Did you really have a nice time?" he asked, taking her into his arms, pressing his mouth toward hers.
She resisted.
"Please don't!" she said, turning her head. She pulled free and tan up the steps of the apartment building.
He ran after her, finally catching her as she inserted her key in the door-lock of apartment 4-D. "I'm sorry," he said.
"No need to apologize," she said breathlessly. "I ..."
Her eyes warmed.
He lost control again, taking her into his arms. He buried his mouth in hers. Her body grew taut against his as she returned the kiss. Then she pressed her arms against his shoulders and drew back.
"John, I need time," she said. "I'm very unsure about myself just now."
"I'll call you tomorrow," he said.
He spun around and hurried down the steps. When he reached the ground floor, he looked up the grey stairwell, an act of instinct. Her face, barely visible in the half-light above, appeared over the banister for a moment. He was glad. Then it disappeared.
Smoking one cigarette after another, he drove like a maniac through the New York traffic, until he reached his place.
What the hell am I doing falling for a twenty-year-old girl?
"She's lust a kid!" Gloria said. now curled up nude in his bed, a wide, self-satisfied smile on her face.
"So?" he said angrily, taking off his jacket.
"I'm sorry. I hit a sore spot, didn't I? I'm being catty and naughty."
"Forget it!"
"Want to make love?" she asked softly.
"Hell yes. I've had a hard-on all evening. It's either fuck the hell out of you or jack off."
She laughed raucously. She knew him well. "Can we play my favorite game?" she asked sweetly.
John grinned. "Daddy's naughty girl?" he asked.
She nodded expectantly. "Yes, Johnny. Nobody else enjoys my whims as much as you."
"You need a spanking anyway," he said half-seriously. He lit a cigarette
Gloria flipped back the satin sheet she'd pulled up over her tits and they lurched out. Then she threw her legs free. Naked, she rose from the bed and started toward him.
He began to grapple with his clothes, taking them off piece by piece.
She was halfway toward him when he stopped her with a harsh voice that he hardly recognized as coming from his own body. "You wretched thing, bring me that clothes brush on the dresser!" he ordered.
She turned and he raked his eyes up her figure as she walked to the dresser. Her bottom end was smooth and hard, the flesh as satiny as the sheet she'd emerged from.
Because she worked out in a gym every day, her body was as trim as a twenty-year-old's. As trim as Rowena's? He wondered. He kept thinking of Rowena.
Carrying out her role, Gloria paused at the dresser, the brush in her hand. She rolled its rough bristles up her cunt bulge.
"What'd you do today to make daddy angry?" he asked in a harsh voice.
"I fucked Johnny, the doorman," she said saucily.
Her old scenario.
"That incompetent clod! Dammit, I've told you to stay away from him."
"But he's so well-hung, daddy. I love his long, long, pony-sized prick," she said, in a spoiled brat's whine.
A look of anger distorted his features; his mouth twisted into a hard line, his eyes changed into opaque marbles, his skin turned beet red.
"Get your ass over here!" he commanded, in his best acting voice, "and take your medicine!"
"My medicine?"
"Your punishment, you naughty girl."
She approached him tremulously at first. But then, starting her seduction, she slowly began to sway her nice, full hips. Her bare feet glided through the shag of the carpeting, her legs polished and sleek. Even her navel turned him on -- a big, deeply recessed one that sank like a miniature well into the flat tan of her belly.
She loosened her hair from its tight bun so that it flowed across her face in a glossy brown frame and forked down her body, a tantalizing contrast against the velvet of her skin.
Thin-waisted ,and long-legged, she was absolutely explosive in the nude. Her big-nippled tits, strung to a thin body, appeared even larger than they were, twin balloons of flesh with a compelling, luminous glow. They were so beautiful they made John's mouth water.
He recalled she'd been a hosiery model for his agency -- with national exposure on TV and in glossy magazine ads. He remembered one ad in particular, in which she lay back on a chaise lounge, stretching a sheer stocking up one leg, snapping it to a snow-white garter belt. She'd made a lot of money for him and for herself. Her legs were still as exciting as ever, bare or stockinged.
He chuckled. Strangely enough, her most beautiful and fascinating assets -- her ripe, full tits -- had been taboo to advertisers. They were too much! She would've turned every woman in the country green with envy and nobody would have bought any bras and undergarments that she modeled.
He sprang from the chair and grabbed the clothes brush from her with one hand and caught her wrist by the other. She squealed.
Yanking her into the chair with him, he folded her gorgeous, nude body over his knees so that her breasts dangled, and raised the clothes brush high into the air. Whack! The tough bristles of the brush smacked her bottom red.
"Please stop!" she whimpered.
But he struck her even more forcefully with the brush, reddening the other buttock. He knew she loved it. Her beautiful bottom wriggled, her smooth ass cheeks kissing.
"Your cunt's already running, isn't it, you naughty girl!" he said.
"Oh, no, daddy, That's evil."
Using the brush as a whip, he fired it in a blistering rhythm across her upturned butt, whacking first one lovely demiglobe, and then the other, until they glowed red hot. Her- boobs danced and her ass squirmed as he whipped her. He knew she was becoming so turned on she'd probably reach a screeching orgasm that would wet his knees.
Hard and thick, his cock had nudged from his boxers, trapped beneath her tender flesh, rocking from the blows he delivered.
"Up!" he commanded.
"No!" she sassed. "Pm about to come."
"I don't give a shit!"
Using his arms as a fork-lift, his cock springing out from his boxers, he lifted her and rushed her to the bed. He threw her face down on the sheet.
"Now spread that ass apart. I'm hot!"
"No, daddy! Not back there!" she shouted.
She loves it back there! Her whole body's creaming for my big cock up that tight hole.
His cock had reared up, monstrously large. It stood high above his balls and its head throbbed in tempo with the blood that rushed through it.
Thick and bulging, the head seemed as big as an apple and as polished. Lubricant oozed from the slit in its center.
He spat on his hand and polished the thick, pulsating head of his cock with the saliva.
That's enough lubricant.
She wriggled her ass, bouncing those sleek rounds of flesh, and opened the huge crack up her back. Her silky legs shot up into the air as she spread her shapely thighs.
His throbbing, aching cock sensed the warm heat of her ass end as it neared it. He slammed it in hard, burying its red head just inside her hole.
She squealed and her body lurched up to take more. He shoved the long, thick stalk up her so hard now, it elicited a groan. Her back pocket was dry -- wonderfully dry -- and tight.
"Ohhhhhhh, daddyeeeeeeeeeeeee!" she moaned.
The wand of fire he'd put up her was causing her red, raw, jelly-bowl ass to rock and squirm. The firm cheeks of her buttocks opened and closed convulsively around the thick mass inside her. Her whole body seemed to catch fire, too. Wet heat trapped his cock.
As he pumped his prick into her, he began to smack her thighs with both hands. She loved that, turning on more.
The rubbery tight sphincter of her ass grew wider and wider as he drove his gargantuan cock deeper, relishing the view of her soap-slick back; her backbone coiled up it like an ivory rope. Her hair trailed lustrously below her waist.
Again and again, deepening his strokes, he drove his unbridled cock up her, ensconced in the dark, dry warmth of her body, so dry she was like a virgin cunt.
Sweat rolled down his back as he balled her and his head swam with the deeply etched vision of an-other woman's face always before him: Rowena's.
He jarred her body with the solid impact of his pleasure-bent cock, pounding and pounding. His balls burning with desire, he plummeted into the depths of her ass as she lavished his thrusts with dry, sucking, whipping movements.
She swayed before him, her body rising as she propped herself on her elbows to take more and more of that lovingly hard, driving prick. Now her tits, sleek and perspiration-coated, swayed like clock pendulums in a crazy rhythm determined by his mad, mad attack.
In and out, he filled her luscious bottom with hard, hot cock meat. His balls popped loudly against her ass cheeks. She moaned as the crown-sized head of velvet drilled into her.
"Daddyeeeeeeee!" she squealed.
It was so utterly sensual, so lewd, so consuming that she was his slave, accepting each hard jerk of his tool with a maiden's delight.
He slid forward to knead the cones of straining breasts that flew out from beneath her body. His cock's veins were fat with rushing blood as he hammered into that clutching ring of tissue. His hip muscles strained, coiling and uncoiling as he jammed his mammoth prick in and out of her deeply worked cleavage.
Sucking him in greedily, her flaming hot hole massaged his cock with powdery dry smacks. Tingles that never had a chance to die out before they were renewed spread through his body, adding to his lust.
Each lunge propelled his giant tool, raw and red, to the deepest part of her dark passage. With a frenzy, his mind numbed with pleasure, he threw cock to her. Sweat dripped from his face.
The sperm swam furiously, boiling and churning, in his swollen balls, anxious for release. He fired more hot rod, steel-hard cock into her rolling bottom, his eyes feasting on the voluptuous smoothness of her buttocks and the blush of her bottom.
Only one thought possessed him now: to come. The white heat of his passion had driven even the image of Rowena from his mind. He'd become an animal, caged by his passion, seeking release through a fantastically wet and wild orgasm.
Wantonly, she pumped her beautiful bottom up to his cock, back and forth, so hot herself that her breathing was a rattle.
"God, you're driving into my bladder!" she shouted.
The hot glow of her anal track and the incredible suppleness of it, coupled with her rocking and wriggling, were bringing him rapidly to orgasm. As his coarse cock rushed in and out of her tight ass, he clutched her hips.
Her body began to heave and jerk beneath him. She was coming in great contractions. While his cock plied her ass, her cunt was reaching deliverance, gushing pussy juice.
His relief came in great spasms. Blob after blob of hot come rushed up her behind as it rocked.
Her ass was still bobbing and she was still sighing when he pulled out his cock. Growing limp, it was still dribbling pearly come.
"I'm exhausted," she said. "Exhausted but satisfied." She rolled off and stifled a yawn with her hand.
He lit a cigarette. His body was still aroused, but he wasn't thinking about Gloria.
He was thinking about Rowena.
CHAPTER SEVEN
A slice of yellow light lay across the dusty wide-plank flooring outside Apartment 4-D. Pausing to get his breath back after the rush up the steps, John knocked softly on the door. He waited, his heart pounding.
Sandals tapped the floor beyond the door. It opened to a crack and her oval face appeared above the chrome chain that stretched between door and frame.
"John! Come in."
She released the chain and flung open the door to a huge cheerful room whose walls were strung with modern art, mostly prints and posters. He recognized a Picasso and a Soutine.
"I couldn't sleep," he said, moving into the room. It bore her fragrance, a lavender musk.
"I couldn't either," she said, meeting his eyes. Her eyes were charcoal grey. "How about some-thing to drink?" She was trying to be casual.
"Sure."
Untied, her silk robe had split open, revealing her firm young tits banded with a nylon bra of an apricot shade that matched the robe. Her panties matched, too, tight against her gorgeous, taut body.
"Do you have any beer?" he asked.
"Two cans. It's been here for months. I hope it isn't stale."
"It'll do," he said, sitting in a fat chair, his eyes never leaving her. She stood in the middle of the floor, her eyes on him, a curious glint in them, as if she were about to tell him something important. But suddenly she started toward the kitchen, a smaller room beyond a bead curtain of many colors.
His eyes followed the movement of her naked legs, the muscles rippling smoothly as she walked, and the soft, seductive bounce of her ass.
Kitchen sounds reached him: the pop of the beer can as it was opened, then the rattle of glasses.
"I tasted it," she said, entering the living room. "It's okay."
She brought the glass of beer to him.
"Sit right here on this hassock and let's talk," he said. "I've got to talk." He sipped the beer and watched her curl up on the hassock. She'd tied her robe.
"Why couldn't you sleep?" he asked.
"I ... I ... " she stammered.
"You were thinking about me?" he asked.
"Yes." Her cheeks blushed and she turned her head in a little-girl way.
He put the glass of beer on the floor beside him.
"Come here!" he said, authoritatively but not harshly. He patted his leg, indicating where he wanted her to sit.
Her body was warm and fetching beneath the robe, her breathing faster as she sat on his lap.
"I went to bed with Gloria," he said, "but I kept thinking about you. Even as I balled her, I thought of you."
A look of astonishment crossed her pretty face. "But Gloria's so beautiful and so sophisticated, why would you think of me?"
"I've been thinking about you for two days," he said.
He circled his hands around her trim waist and pulled her to him. Their mouths seemed to melt together. Her lips were soft and pillowy against his. He pressed harder and ran his tongue into her mouth. She resisted, but then, slowly, her tongue began to slosh against his.
As his cock started to rear up, it nudged against his jock strap.
Stop, John. Stop right now before you've gone too far. It's not fair to Harry. It's not fair to her.
John stroked her long, lovely hair with one hand as he pulled her tighter to him with the other. Slowly, he slid his right hand beneath her robe and softly rubbed his fingers along the super-soft flesh above her burgeoning breasts.
"No!" she said. "Please don't."
Christ, I think she's a virgin!
He curled a finger under her nylon bra, delighting in the touch of bare skin beneath it, and yanked it free. He felt her breasts blossom out -- full and firm. Then he touched the rosy nipple of her right breast. It was as hard as hard rubber.
She fought to release herself, but he sealed his mouth firmly against hers and pulled her silky body forward with his other hand.
As he teased her nipple with his forefinger, running across its surface in slow, tantalizing circles, he felt her body jerk.
She snapped free of him with a hurt look in her eyes, her hands trembling.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
"I've never let anyone go this far, John."
She's got to be kidding.
"What if I said I love you," he said.
Her eyes left his, but returned. They seemed to probe his, asking mute questions. They were a suspicious grey.
"I ... what I'm doing is mokadi," she said.
"What?" he asked.
"My people believe a girl should not have pre-marital sex. It's taboo."
"If you're serious, I won't ..."
She seemed to hesitate, then she shook her head. "I really don't believe in the Old Ways, John. I want you to make love to me." The corners of her mouth turned up and a half-smile appeared on her face. Her eyes sparkled.
With both hands he pulled her back to him and touched his lips to hers. This time he felt a definite reciprocal pressure. Her tongue eagerly sought his.
Flinging her robe back abruptly, he caught an eyeful of her sumptuous curves before he put his hand back to her tits -- first the right one, then the left, massaging each full, saucy fruit.
Her nipples firmed under his touch and her breasts seemed to swell, their caramel skin glowing a golden brown, stretched appetizingly tight around those luscious pods of flesh.
"Take off the robe!" he said.
She helped him pull it away so that she sat on his lap with only her pants on now. The view of her was fantastically exciting. She looked like a pin-up, more enticing with just that strip of wispy apricot nylon around her voluptuously compelling hips. The strange part was that she didn't even realize her own sex appeal.
Almost roughly he played with her tits, bouncing them and kneading them as her body, revving up, began to wriggle.
His cock, just beneath her bottom, was pounding blood, rising, itching to be released. He wondered if she'd ever even seen one. Would it startle her when he broke it loose froze its fabric cage and it lurched out, long and het and bobbing?
She surprised him. "Let's go into the bedroom," she whispered.
"That suits me," he said.
She lay down on the bed with a distinct but compelling naivete, placing her body out straight, as if she were offering it to him. She was.
Slow up, Johnny. Be sure.
But his cock called. It had now pressed out the jock so that it formed a huge bulge against his fly. She spied it, then looked away.
"Are you going to take off your clothes?" she asked.
"Yes, I'll go into the bathroom."
"You needn't."
He pulled his knit shirt over his head with a swish and became intensely aware of the mass of black hair that covered his chest, trailing to beneath his navel.
As she watched, he undid his wide leather belt and dropped it to the floor. He kicked off his shoes and slid his pants off, and his socks.
His shorts formed a sharp V, pinching skin around the edge. His cock was hard and high against his shorts. Now he peeled the shorts away and released the metal clasp that held the jock strap.
He watched her eyes widen as the big-knobbed pole sprang up so violently from his body, its head vibrating, its length reddening with blood. His balls were flaccid but hairy.
John stroked it.
"It's mammoth," she said.
"Does it scare you?" he asked.
"No, not really, but it's so strange, so large and vibrant and, well, magnificent."
Magnificent. The word seemed to hang in his consciousness, teasing him.
He lay down next to her.
"Put your hand to it!" he said.
Hesitantly, she reached out, drawing her soft, well-shaped hand closer and closer, her eyes drawn to the vibrating pole.
She touched its fiery head with a forefinger and quickly pulled it away.
"It's as soft as velvet ... I won't hurt it?"
"You won't hurt it," he reassured her. "Grip it and move your hand up and down it, in a kind of sleeve of flesh."
She followed his instructions, slowly tightening her silky hand around the great circumference, then evenly moving it up and down.
"Pump harder!" he said.
She dampened her lips and threw herself to the task, swiftly pistoning her smooth, soft hand up and down the quivering stalk so near her sweet, smooth thighs.
"Goddam, you turn me on!" he said. "Feel your little cunt, Rowena. Is it wet?"
He couldn't take his eyes off her as she folded her other hand beneath the nylon bikini and stroked. Her hand formed a shadow atop the long cleavage of her cunt as she moved it.
"It's gushing!" she said.
He shoved her hand from his prick and leaned forward. He rolled the wisp of nylon down her well-contoured thighs, unveiling her choice cunt, a rich dark ridge ,silky with pubic hair, faintly wet. Tenderly, with both hands, he spread her labia until her moist gash was all pink -- a glistening, beautiful jewel. Her thighs formed a delicious mall to her darling cunt. With hot, sweaty hands he kneaded her soft thigh skin, so tender it took his breath, and inched her long legs apart.
He began to drool.
"What're you going to do?" she asked.
"Suck you, baby. I'm going to suck that beautiful cherry cunt of yours before I fuck you."
He positioned his head up between her trembling thighs and darted out his tongue. Slowly, he ran his tongue's wet, supple surface up and down her fragrant cunt petals. Sweet.
She sighed. He felt her velvety thighs closing like gates, trapping his head. Beautiful. She quivered.
He burrowed into her wet, soppy young pussy, swinging his eager mouth to and fro in a mopping action even as his tongue flickered into her fiery interior. Ile found her clit -- large and slick.
Cupping it, wrapping it in the tissue of his molding mouth and then darting his tongue onto it, he felt her body jerk. He sucked harder. Her body shook all over in ecstasy.
Her sweet pussy's wet, pink beauty and its in-tense, passionate, churning heat inspired him. His tongue became a hammer rapping on her stiff clit until her body was numb with pleasure as he hungrily mouthed her flowing cunt. She obviously loved what his lips and tongue were doing to her. Rowena began to whimper.
As he sucked, he slid a hand up the silky skin of her flat abdomen onto the pink erection atop her left tit. He tweaked it even as his mouth sucked in, lapping up the hot juices of her cunt.
Her little belly shook as she moaned aloud. Desperately, as he kneaded her fit, he shoved his tongue far up her hole and licked slowly out, maintaining an upward pressure on her clit.
With a sudden movement that surprised him, she moved her hands to his head and rammed it, harder into her jerking cunt. Her cunt swamped his face with dripping, hot tissue.
As he leaned back, her body wiggling before him, his face wore her tattoo: a mask of cunt juice. He licked. It tasted virginal, that clear, sticky fluid.
"Now, baby, you're ready to be fucked!"
He noticed the flicker of fear in her eyes and the sudden tautness of her body.
"John, I'm scared," she said. "I ... I don't even take the Pill."
"Oh, Christ!" he said.
He rose, his prick a proud, hard standard that throbbed from his loins. He felt a bit awkward. Plucking up his pants from the floor, he took out his leather wallet and opened the "secret compartment."
Dammit, I'd better have one.
The smooth, flat container bore a telltale ring. It contained one more rubber.
"What're you doing?" she asked.
"I'm going to put on a prophylactic, sweetheart."
"Can I watch?" she asked.
"You can put it on me," he said, climbing back into the bed.
He opened the pack and unrolled the rubber, powdery and sleek.
"Now hold it the way you would silk hosiery," he instructed. "That's it -- with both hands."
She stretched the elastic top and inched the glove down over his throbbing erection.
"Easy!" he said. "Keep sliding it."
"It's like a shower cap!" she said.
"It is one, in a way," he said. "It keeps my hot spray from getting inside you."
She pulled it snugly to the base of his cock with a firm tug.
"Tight fit," she said.
"It's a triple X, too. I should have mine custom-made."
"Your cock looks so strange now," she said, pulling back to admire her handiwork.
"Lie back, honey."
His jacketed prick, taut against the rubber, bobbed expectantly as he spread back her legs, enjoying again the soft, soft touch of her thighs. He spread them so wide her cherry cunt scissored open. The petals were glossy, wet from her sap's running.
Her perfect tits sat invitingly plump and round, the skin of her midriff smooth as he guided his immense projectile toward that gaping gash. She closed her eyes. He felt her body grow tense.
His hot-headed cock touched her wet, pink petals with a soft smack. He mopped his pulsating rod in their glossy, hot surface.
"That feels good P' she panted.
He directed the bobbing red head into her vulva, feeling her flinch. She was unbelievably wet and desirable.
Losing control, he plunged his cock into her hot maw with a splitting force, using his hips as springs, guiding his prick upward to tear across her virginal clit.
"Uhhhhhhhh ... oh, it's big!"
A wild, seething passion possessed him. He hurled his big prick into her juicy cherry cunt again and again, driving it high, enjoying the tremors that ran through her body as he pounded her large, rubbery clit. The thin mask of rubber tightly stretched around his cock seemed to squeal as it passed over her aroused clit.
"John, I love you!" she screamed. "I love your cock."
His hips went into a convulsion, propelling his cock into her with an absolute frenzy until her body began to respond. It seemed to do so instinctively.
Like waves, her silky hips rose up and her darling tight cunt swallowed and absorbed the brutal blows his massive cock delivered. Soon she began to squirm and wiggle on it -- catching on quickly, he thought.
"It feels good when' I spin around on you, doesn't it?" she asked.
"It's delicious."
Flooding with nectar, her cunt slid so effortlessly over the long, hard intruder that it seemed greased. Up and down. Around. Spinning beneath him. Bucking up to challenge him.
He didn't notice for a long time that his cock wore a coating of blood -- cherry juice mixed with the clear, virginal sap. Unknowingly, he'd snapped that thin veil of tissue -- her hymen. Those initial plunges had been so delirious, so directed toward an immediate, overwhelming need to relieve the mounting ache in his galls, that he'd become oblivious to everything else.
With a little girl's joy she now threw her luscious, young cunt up to his hard, demanding prick. Loud claps -- a thunder of the flesh -- erupted from their bodies as they joined -- pelvis against pelvis. His pubic hair meshed with hers -- just for an instant -- only to pull away as his hips arched for an-other powerful entry.
He'd grooved her pliant cunt so that it now fit his in-riding cock with a sure, wet smoothness.
He fucked her with a luxurious, balls-pleasing rhythm, thrilled with her body's supple response. She twisted and writhed beneath him, anxiously churning her hot little cunt, fucking him with an amazing, quickly acquired expertise.
He split the bare, wet flesh of her dewy crotch with a heavy cock throbbing with lust. Each lunge became more vigorous. Each entry painted his cock with cherry sap.
Her moist, clutching vaginal walls, as slick as grease, took every bulging, driving inch of big cock he fed her. The balls of her bosom heaved and rolled as he poled her. She watched it all with a smile shorn of innocence.
She's the hottest cherry I ever balled!
Her bare legs coiled around him and tugged lust-fully against him, wanting more and more of that thick, hard meat screwed far up her. Her hands beat on his back and her nails scratched into his flesh.
He slammed it to her in a series of sure, swift lunges that seemed to split her belly open as she gasped and jerked. Her voracious cunt, awakened and wet, plied his in-driving cock with sweet, sweet virginal caresses that tingled his balls.
Her eyes glazed as she hunched, screwing the deep tunnel of her marshy vagina up his hard, fiery-hot length. Semen sizzled in his balls as she smacked his cock with those tissue-wet kisses.
His hips began to jerk. Her golden body seemed to roll beneath him, sliding across the satin of the sheet. She- was so intensely feminine. Her body emitted a thick, rich perfume, the perfume of sex.
She came in a surging orgasm that threw her gorgeous body up to his time after time. Her finger-nails ripped into the flesh of his back, drawing blood, as she came. Her breath came hard.
All the while, she kept truing to shove him deeper and deeper into the clutching, tropical heat of her cunt.
He erupted with a jet of come that threatened to pop the thin membrane of rubber between his cock and the cherry cunt that had teased it and tantalized it and brought it deliverance.
His body fell to hers and he felt his prick soften. When he withdrew his cock and pulled the rubber sack from it, it was heavy and hot with his come.
"Now, baby, you've lost that precious cherry!" he said.
"I loved losing it," she said.
She cupped her lovely head into the crook of his arm and closed her eyes.
Within seconds she was sound asleep.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The alley was dark, a kind of funnel between high, black buildings through which a summer's wind blew. It was a balmy wind, although faintly tinged with garbage a smells. She led the way. An alley cat scurried off, knocking over a tin can, as they started up the alley.
"Creepy, isn't it?" she said.
"I think it's moody," he answered. "I like strange night excursions."
A drunk hurried past them, an old felt hat pulled over his face, his face all whiskers, his gait uncertain. He was talking to himself, oblivious to them.
Rowena stopped under an iron fire escape that clung to an old brick building, a wall of black that rose above them.
"Here it is," she said. "Hoist me up to that first rung and I'll lower the fire escape."
He took her by the waist and raised her into the air. She grasped the iron rung and he released her. The iron ladder descended with a rusty thud.
"Come on!" she said, starting up the ladder.
He went behind her, amazed at her agility as she moved quickly up the ladder, toward the first landing.
She offered him a hand as he reached the plat-form where she stood. He took it.
"My Aunt Vera doesn't have a license to tell for-tunes," she explained. "They cost too much. So she operates clandestinely. Anyone who wants a reading has to use this old fire escape. Really, though, I think it's helped business."
They continued to mount the rickety fire escape, its iron singing under their footsteps. Below them, the alley seemed like a black river twisting between the buildings. A faint glow of neon from a beer joint in the street beyond reflected across the alley's mouth.
Four flights up, Rowena paused, a bit breathless, and smiled at him.
She knotted her right hand into a fist and rapped sharply three times on the black window before them.
He listened closely.
Rowena knocked again -- three times.
Something stirred beyond the window. Then a light came on, barely discernible beyond the black window. Slow footsteps started toward them.
Suddenly a sliver of light appeared at the right side of the window as someone moved the black cloth that covered it. The sliver widened and a wizened face, the cheeks pools of red rouge, appeared. Black eyes stared at them beneath a mass of white hair.
"My Rowena!" the old woman's voice croaked.
"I have a friend with me, Aunt Vera. His name's John Cole. He wants a reading."
The old woman slowly raised the high window and they climbed into the room. He closed the window behind them, aware of the heady aroma of incense. Another smell seeped into his nostrils -- boiling cabbage. They were in the kitchen.
With her hands on her hips, the old woman, tall and angular, watched them. In a gay orange dress banded with a bright golden sash, she cracked a broad smile that revealed two gold-capped teeth.
"Did you tell him my fee, Rowena?" the old lady asked.
"Five dollars, isn't it?" Rowena said.
The old woman nodded her head. Her eyes now burrowed into John's. He knew she was sizing him up. "Let's go into the jiving room then."
They crossed the linoleum-covered floor and followed the old woman past a beaded curtain, into a large, comfortable room with an ancient mantel, Victorian furniture, and a red oriental rug. In the room's center, dominating the room, sat a round oak table. Atop it lay a thick deck of cards with gayly colored backs.
"Please sit across from me," she said, beckoning to John, "and be comfortable ... Rowena, you fix some tea as I start the reading."
John lit a cigarette as the old gypsy, her face all concentration now, her fingers long and bony, laid out the faces of the Major Ancora, the allegorical figures in the deck. The first card she placed in the center of the table, the others in a triangle around it, eleven cards to each side. She then formed a circle around the triangle with the remaining cards and placed the last cards under the first card drawn, in the center of the geometric pattern.
Her eyes glistened in the light of a Victorian globe lamp nearby as she spoke. "The top cards, Mr. Cole, represent the present, the cards on the right the future and the cards on the left, the past." She paused and dampened her lips. "Before me is spread your entire life, and it is a very interesting one ... but ... but I'm afraid I see violence."
Her eyes were resting on the cards along the triangle's right side -- his future.
He took a deep drag of the cigarette, allowing the smoke to finger his lungs.
"I also see prosperity," she said, "and romance ... romance with a much younger woman. But you must be cautious." The old woman's voice trembled. "You have not always been lucky in love."
Softly, Rowena entered the room, with a tray in her arms. She gently placed it on a smaller table, not wanting to disturb her aunt. Rowena sat on the old sofa and watched her aunt's face as she continued to tell John's fortune.
The old woman's mouth became taut and her eyes turned into black, ungazing pearls as she concentrated on the lines of allegorical figures be-fore her and the bright symbols of the other cards. She seemed to have entered a strange garden of symbols and become frozen in fascination.
John fidgeted in his chair, wondering what she saw now.
"You must be very careful, Mr. Cole," she said. "You have an enemy. An older man. A dark-complexioned man." She paused, looking him in the eyes.
"I didn't think I had an enemy in the world," he said.
The old woman's eyes left his and drifted back to the cards, focusing on those on the left and then traveling to those in the center. "Your marriage was not a success, was it?"
He nodded.
"You married young and you married not for love," the old woman chanted. "You were very ambitious, wanting to further your career."
How in the hell could she know all this? he wondered.
"I'm not sure I ever loved anyone," he said.
"I know," the old woman answered. "But now you think you do. You think you do. But you must be certain."
John felt .Rowena's eyes on him. He avoided looking toward her. Instead, he kept his gaze on the kaleidoscope of cards before him.
The old woman finished her reading with several observations about his character, which he considered remarkably valid.
Afterwards, they drank tea and ate home-made cookies while the old lady told stories of her youth in Hungary. Her father had been a migrant farm worker, the old lady related, and they had traveled all over Hungary. During the hard winters, her mother had told fortunes -- reading palms -- to help keep the family going. She'd passed along her talents to her daughter.
"Now the gypsy is just like everyone else," the old woman said. "They have stopped wandering; they have sought roots. In doing that, they have lost their soul. Such happy people they used to be. Now they are sad -- selling things in stores, going to universities to study, forever buying goods on credit, forever worrying and fretting to keep their possessions. They forget the true joys of life -- dancing and feasting and making love." Her eyes had a faraway look, her hands crossed in a kind of church in her lap.
"Is business good, Auntie?" Rowena asked.
"I can't complain. Many gorgios come to me -- not as many of my own people. I miss seeing you, Rowena. It's been nearly three weeks."
Rowena blushed. "I've been very busy at the Art Center."
"And with your men friends!" the old lady said.
"Only Harry Bacon and John."
"Harry Bacon is sad ... a very sad man."
"Yes, he is, Auntie ... John, I guess we'd better leave. It's late."
They stopped at a delicatessen for wieners, corned beef, Greek olives, a loaf of pumpernickel and a six-pack of beer.
He held the packages of food and drink while Rowena inserted the key into her apartment door and opened it.
"Hurry up!" she said, smiling. "I'm starved."
He followed her into the kitchen, a small room adjoining the living room, and put the goods on the kitchen counter.
John helped himself to the Greek olives while Rowena prepared corned beef sandwiches.
"Hot mustard?" she asked.
"I love it."
She opened the refrigerator and uncapped a jar of hot mustard, liberally applying the smooth paste to their sandwiches. He popped open two cans of beer.
Bohemian. Definitely bohemian. I'd rather be here than in the best restaurant in New York. "Want to see my studio?" she asked.
"Sure."
She took a swig of beer and bit into her sandwich, stepping past him into the main room and crossing it to pull back a sliding door.
He stared into a medium-sized room, with art strung along the walls and stacked in the corners. A comfortable old studio couch occupied the right side of the room. In the center sat an easel.
"Those are some of my sketches," she said, pointing to some, charcoal sketches in aluminum frames on the wall facing the sofa. She sat on the sofa and munched her sandwich as she talked.
"I did those boat scenes in Venice last summer. I was there on a scholarship. Many of the other sketches are New York vignettes."
He looked at the sketches one by one. They were good. John knew some pros who'd be happy if they had her level of talent.
He swallowed some beer and took another bite of his sandwich.
"I'm impressed, Rowena, really I am," he said. He joined her on the couch.
"You don't believe all that junk Aunt Vera told you. did you?"
"Hell yes I believed it."
"She said you were in love, John."
"Well, I think I am."
She blushed. "Would you like to hear a sexy story about some Yugoslavian gypsies, John?" she asked. her voice perky.
"Sure."
"Well, gypsies came to Central Europe around 1200, apparently refugees of some kind of political upheaval in Hindustan. At first, everyone in Europe believed gypsies were from Egypt and they were called Egyptians. Gradually the vast horde that migrated to Europe broke up, dividing themselves according to their customs and needs and so forth. A big tribe of them settled in Yugoslavia. Among them were many chovihani, or witches."
"Interesting," he said, kissing her nose, looking into her eyes.
"Wait until you hear the rest. The chovihani began a phallic cult. They saw the kar, the male sexual organ, as the primary source of new life, new values and even good fortune. It was believed that the larger a man's kar, the more good fortune he'd have ... that would make you a very lucky man, John." She laughed.
He ran his tongue into her mouth. Hers met his and their mouths mashed harder together.
She pulled back. "Do you mind if I sketch your penis, John?"
His eyebrows arched. "Christ, nobody ever asked me ... I guess not. But I thought you were of Hungarian gypsy stock. Were they hung up on cocks, too?"
"Not especially. But I think yours is beautiful. I really do want to sketch it."
"Then you'd better get it hard first. It's pretty miserable-looking in its flaccid state."
She unzipped his fly and felt around for his cock, unravelling it from his boxers. The moment her soft flesh made contact, it started to grow.
Eagerly, she bent to it, swallowing the large worm in the wet cave of her mouth. Her unpainted lips, wide and thick and luscious, closed around it. It lurched forward, filling with blood.
She smiled as it mushroomed in her mouth -- a tremendously long and hot sausage. Slowly she began to tease it with her tongue. It became so thick it seemed to be a tightly fitted cork in her mouth, so long he thought she'd choke on it. But she accommodated it.
She sucked back and forth, letting part of it emerge, coated with her mouth juices, shiny and red.
She slurped free.
"It's so proud ... so heavy and red and defiant!" she said. "No wonder the Yugoslavs worshipped it. Hav co kar."
"What's that mean?" he asked.
"I eat thy penis -- in Romany."
"Christ!"
"Now it's ready to be sketched in its full regal erection," she said. She rose from the couch and found a box of chalks-selecting a black stick -- and placed a sheet ,of sketching paper on her easel. She moved the easel closer.
"No, lie back and stroke it now and then to keep it hard, John ... please."
He gladly complied. It was extremely exciting to him to be the object of such attention.
Her chalk made a soft, mildly screeching noise on the paper. He watched her face as she worked, a smile playing at the edge of her mouth, her eyes sparkling, much as her aunt's had when she was telling them stories of the old country.
"I've sketched your big balls," she said, "and part of the stem, John. Now skin it back. I want that glorious head to be perfect in my sketch."
He jerked the foreskin and the glans popped out more broadly, the surface shiny. His whole cock throbbed, straight up in the air.
"Beautiful!" she said.
"I'm sketching the corona now," she said.
"Hey, how'd you learn so much about cocks?" he asked. He knew she was a virgin until yesterday -- because he'd taken her cherry.
"Anatomy lessons, John. I studied anatomy for six months. Every serious artist does."
"You must've learned your lessons well."
"You'll see, when I show you my sketch."
The chalk snapped.
"Hell!" she said. "Broke my chalk. I was too in-tense." She rummaged around in her box for an-other piece.
"Hey, I'm getting restless."
"Just another minute or so," she said,. moving the easel closer.
"What're you doing now?"
"I'm sketching in that wonderful little peep eye that's oozing nectar."
She's got a way with words, too. An explosively sexy way that's still tinged with innocence.
He was really turning on.
"Now, that's it," she cried.
He sat up, feeling slightly ridiculous but too turned on to give a damn.
She came to him with the sketch. She showed it to him. It was amazingly well-done, greatly de-tailed. He realized it was done to scale. He also realized his cock's hugeness.
"Take off your skirt, Rowena ... I've got to do something with this hard-on. It's driving me up the walls."
"You want me?" she said.
"Hell yes."
She unbuttoned the skirt and it slipped in a pool to her feet. Only a nylon bikini, cocoa brown, covered her.
"Now the top!" he ordered.
She pulled free her tangerine pullover, revealing those luscious dips of breasts, tan and bouncy, barely confined by a string bra, also cocoa brown.
She forked her long hair across her breasts, in-creasing their desirability.
"Do me a favor, John," she said. "Take my other cherry!"
Will wonders never cease!
"Let me see what Pm going to get," he said.
She turned slowly and he stared unabashedly at the most wonderful pair of buttocks he'd seen for a long, long time -- and his business was beautiful women.
They sat high up from her thighs and were defined by an inviting, tucked-in shadow of flesh. They were taut against the nylon bikini, balanced bronze balls straining against it. She moved her ass and the nylon shifted. She lowered the nylon and tightened her ass muscles. Dimples, little craters, broke across the satiny surface. Then she raised one leg and he saw the beauty of her thigh muscles.
He took off his clothes as she swirled before him. Her body moved in a tantalizing dance that he figured was of gypsy origin.
"Do you have any petroleum jelly?" he asked, whacking his cock several time.
"Sure ... in the bathroom."
"Get it, Rowena. I'll have to lubricate you the first time to get you opened up."
"Won't that ruin it?" she asked, a worried look on her beautiful face.
"It'd be, mighty hard on you without it," he said.
"I want it that way."
"Okay then. But I'll get you ready for it another way. Come here."
She stood before him as he rose, her legs splayed invitingly. Her pubic hair formed a crown around that beautiful young snatch.
Tenderly, he slid a finger into her cunt. Already it was wet. He rode his finger back and forth. Then he inserted two fingers and pumped harder.
She squealed.
In a short time his fingers were dripping her cunt juice.
Holding his cock firmly, he guided its massive length slowly into the silky wet sleeve of her cunt.
"It feels so good!" she cried.
He teased her. "Too bad we're just getting it salved!"
He pumped two or three inches of his hard stalk into her as she squirmed, holding her hips to adjust her luscious young cunt to the head of his cock.
"Do you want to get assfucked standing up or lying down?" he asked soothingly.
"If it turns me on like this, you'd better do it to me on the sofa, John."
He plunged his cock all the way into her and she shrieked. "Jesussssssssss! You broke something!"
"I popped your cherry yesterday, honey."
She'd begun to hump him, throwing her lovely cunt hard along his rod, sliding along it vigorously.
As they balled, he slid the wet forefinger of his right hand across a velvety buttock, and inched it slowly up her asshole. It gave easily, swallowing his finger with a dry vacuum. He pumped more cock into her and scissored two fingers up her back end.
Imprisoned between his fingers and his cock, she wiggled, low, guttural moans escaping from her throat as she rocked back and forth on the two prongs.
Her tits bounced, her nipples fully erect, as he tore into her body two ways. He added another finger to his back-end prong. Her ass began to bob and squirm on the hard, closely knitted fingers up her.
Surprising him, she began to ream her luscious bottom on his hands. He knew he'd touched the sensitive anal nerve tissues and that the pleasure was almost more than she could stand.
She was a wild creature in his hands now, her breath coming hard, her eyes closed, her skin warm and sweaty. He drove more cock into her as he sent his fingers in a driving, corkscrew motion up her rump.
"My god!"
"Ready to be assfucked?" he asked.
"Please!"
Releasing her, he led her to the sofa, feeling the tautness of her body and sensing her great need to be balled in the rear.
"Lie on your stomach and perch your ass up ... here, wait a moment, I'll put this pillow under you."
He shifted a yellow pillow under her as she flattened out on the couch. The pillow raised her lovely ass just enough to give him a perfect angle of penetration.
She stroked her long, sensuous fingers behind her and stretched her ass open for him. It was large and dry and inviting -- a brown jewel between her marvelously dimpled, round buttock mounds.
Slowly, keeping control as best he could, he inched his pulsating cock, ripe and swollen, into her. He lodged it just inside the anal ring as she breathed a deep sigh. The tan pods of her gorgeous ass pillowed softly against the skin of the huge rod poised to stab into her.
His loins trembled as he edged his big cudgel between the pillowing folds of her dimpled butt until he felt the dry, clutching pull of her back hole.
Her twitching ass was tighter than cunt, hugging his cock in a pocket of fire.
Her body shivered as he drove more cock into her. He loved seeing his rock-hard pecker descend into her, past those lovely dimpled cones of flesh.
Losing control, the pleasure so great, he suddenly rammed his cock all the way, flesh slapping flesh. Only his balls remained outside her itching, twitching asshole.
His brutal descent set off a primitive shaking. Her ass began to bob all over his cock. He held his cock firmly in place, letting her dance on it with her beautiful round ass, so silky and soothing. She began to move backward and forward until her cherry ass was a smooth track -- dry and firm like virgin cunt.
He felt her lovely firm tits mashing into the sofa. He figured her cunt was dripping sap in a pool beneath her.
Breaking her rhythm, he took over, sending drive after drive up her bouncing back end. He fucked her luscious ass with an explosive series of deep, penetrating strokes. His big cock seared the long, tight tunnel, probing -deeper and deeper. She drummed her toes into the couch and squealed in a long-lasting ribbon of delight.
The smooth surfaces of her ass orbs radiated a heat generated by her lust.
His weight crushed against her firm body in a hard, hard round of assfucking that made her entire body tremble.
Harder and harder he drove fat-headed cock up her, loving the shake of her ass as she accepted it, loved it.
Her dry, warm ass swallowed his plunges with a clutching, vibrating joy.
Once more she began to ram herself back on his plummeting cock, jacking him off with her frantic counterstrokes. As she wriggled and writhed beneath him, he jerked forward, grabbing her lovely dark hair.
Using it as reins, he pulled her entire body up to his cock, riding her with an absolute frenzy.
She was pinned and flattened beneath him, an absolute but willing victim of his lust.
The smack of his body against hers, that lewd clapping sound, inspired him. He buried more fat cock up her voluptuous body, rotating it in her, rubbing her satiny ass cheeks against his hot prick each time he pulled back.
He swayed drunkenly as he propelled his insatiable prick up that round bottom, split so crudely by his assault.
Her body intoxicated him. His head reeled with the thrill of balling her back end. It slid dry, hot flesh the length of his intruding rod, massaging it in a virginal sleeve.
Screams rang out from her, screams of supreme ecstasy. His cock kept finding its way to the far interior of her lovely, lovely ass.
Furiously, he humped her.
Her entire body began to jerk and roll and fire back at him. Sweat broke out across her back. Her hair, glossy and smooth in his grasp, became en-twined in his hands.
A series of orgasms broke from her, each one spinning her body skyward. Time after time. Uncontrollably, she sent her beautiful bottom spinning back on his furiously red cock.
Hot come flew from the length of his huge cock. It flooded her rectal pocket. Jerk after jerk.
Withdrawing, in a state of deliverance, he directed his lava-hot come to the palms of his freed hands and painted her reddened buttocks with it.
"You were like fire!" she said. "Liquid fire boiling up me."
CHAPTER NINE
"Goddammit, I want to see him NOW!"
"But he's extremely busy, Mr. Bacon," the secretary said sweetly.
"I don't give a damn if he's seeing the President!"
"If you'll just sit down and calm yourself, I'll
John Cole switched off his dictaphone and swung around in his swivel chair, facing the door. It burst open and Harry Bacon filled its frame. His blue eyes were icy, his body huge and foreboding in a summer-weight suit.
"You son of a bitch! I trusted you with my girl!" he shouted. "You were the one person in the world I thought I could trust."
John's face blanched. He started from behind the desk as Harry came across the room.
"I'm sorry, Harry. I'm really sorry. I didn't want it to happen. I love Rowena."
"Bullshit!" Harry shouted. He advanced to John and shook his fist in his face. "You never loved anyone, you cold-hearted bastard."
"My conscience has been bothering me," John said feebly.
"A stiff cock doesn't have any conscience, mister."
John's whole frame jerked as Harry grabbed his tie and yanked forward. The photographer drove a doubled fist squarely into John's mouth. John reeled. Blood oozed warmly from his mouth. But he straightened himself up, angry now himself.
As he started to fight back, Harry struck again, slamming his meaty fist into John's face with a jar-ring force. If John hadn't flinched, the blow would have floored him.
"Okay, you son of a bitch, look out!" John said.
Throwing his weight into it, he sent a hard right into Harry's belly, taking his wind and doubling him over. He groaned. Then, with a strong upper-cut, he smashed the photographer's jaw. Harry spun backwards in a lopsided dance, nearly losing his balance.
Now, his breath coming hard, Harry sprang at John, tackling him and sending him hard to the carpeting. So angry he could see red, John kicked out. His shoe caught Harry's mouth and his nose. Blood trickled from the photographer's nose. His eyes glazed for a moment, but, recovering, he grappled with John and pulled him backwards by the neck, trying to throttle him.
"Please stop!" he secretary cried, trembling in the doorway, her face white. "Please! Should I call the police, Mr. Cole?"
John didn't even hear her. His neck in the vise of Harry's strong arm, he could think of only one thing: freeing himself. He jerked back his elbow, catching Harry hard in the ribs. The vise loosened. Then, quickly John swirled around and smashed a bony fist into the photographer's already bloody nose.
That blow seemed to knock the fight out of the photographer. He rose, in a daze, and started out, tottering on his feet.
"Harry, wait!" John said.
Harry turned, his mouth twisting in disgust. "I don't want to see your face ever again, you bastard."
The photographer brushed past the frightened secretary. John straightened his tie and felt his mouth. It was bruised. His head felt wobbly.
"Shall I call a doctor?" the secretary asked.
"No, just fix, me' a drink, Karen ... a double scotch. I'm going to wash up."
Unsteadily, he crossed the room and entered his private john. Running the cold water, he put a wash cloth to it and then bathed his mouth and face, then combed his hair.
His own face was disgusting to him. He avoided it in the mirror. Harry was right, of course. He had been a bastard. He had betrayed a friend, all because a twenty-year-old art student had turned him on. She was just a kid.
She's not worth it!
He re-entered his office. Karen, smiling, handed him a tumbler of scotch. He sipped.
"Are you okay?" she asked.
"Good as new."
Rock music, electric rock, lurched through the room. Laughter spiked the white-blue cigarette haze. Glasses rattled. Heads bobbed and mouths stretched in laughter.
A bevy of beautiful women peopled the rooms of John Cole's apartment. All on the make. He'd made sure of that when he'd invited them. He'd also invited a few male friends.
Warm and cozy, his brain washed with Old Bar-ton, John Cole surveyed the living room. He'd for-get her -- Rowena. He had a roomful of women to help him.
He sipped his drink and drank up their perfume and their laughter and feasted on the lovely, lovely female bodies and faces in the room.
He chuckled as he watched Cindy Barlow, a young blond who specialized in lipstick modeling, spread her wide mouth and plant it on the thick, ugly lips of Erich Strand, an old friend of John's. He was sitting on her lap -- a stick of dynamite and Cindy knew it.
Erich, a midget actor, packed a ten-inch cock and knew how to use it. He loved to be mouth-fucked and he also liked to treat his women roughly. Cindy knew what she was in for.
On the carpeting before the stereo, Kenneth Mills, a broker friend of John's, was having a ball, too, attended by a pair of brunette twins, also models. Brandy was freshening his drink while Candice was running long, cool fingers through his hair. They'd be in bed before long, too -- the three of them.
"Lonely?" someone asked.
He spun around.
Maggie Matthews, a tantalizing dancer he'd gone to bed with three nights ago, smiled into his face.
"Not really," he said. "How could I be?"
"I always am, in a crowd," she said. "I feel so in-significant."
"You're a performer," John said, lighting a cigarette. "All performers are exhibitionists."
"I guess you're right."
"Did Sheila make it to the party?" he asked, inquiring about her friend, the other dancer at Kitty Kat A-Go-Go.
"Oh, yes. I think she's bedding down with that tall hunk of guy -- the ex-pro basketball player."
"Johnny Gibson."
"Yeah ... I bet he's hung."
"He'd rather fuck than sink baskets, but he was tops in his day."
"What's he do now?" Maggie asked.
"Runs a movie house -- skin flicks in Times Square."
"You're kidding?"
"Hell, a guy's got to eat. Are you high, baby?"
"High! ... I feel as though Pm floating!"
"How about helping me liven up this party? It's getting too domestic."
"Sure."
"Do your specialty act for us," he said.
"Nobody wants to see me dance," she said.
He could tell from her eyes that she just needed coaxing.
"Everybody wants to see that lovely body of yours, believe me." He took her by the hand. "Everyone gather around," he said in a loud voice. "Hey, all of you, gather around. We're going to have a floor show. Ken, hey Ken, cut the volume on that stereo."
They started toward John and Maggie, the couples, the singles, everyone expectant.
"I want 'you all to meet Maggie Matthews, the Kitty Kat girl. Maggie's going to do an exotic dance for us ... Erich, help me move this rug. Step back, everyone."
They rolled up the Persian rug that covered a corner of the room, exposing the hardwood floor.
"Get some foot lights over here, Ken ... come on, hustle!"
The men began to string a row of floor lamps around the bare floor, turning on the lights. The rich wood of the floor glowed.
John turned to Maggie. "Are you wearing your, uh, costume?"
She smiled. "No, but I don't need one."
"Okay, now everyone get comfortable," John said. "Pull up a chair or a pillow or stretch out on the floor."
As the partygoers formed a semi-circle around the improvised dance floor, John asked Maggie what kind of music she wanted to dance to.
"Song of Scheherazade," she whispered. "Do you have it?"
"I have everything Rimski-Korsakov wrote," he said.
He put the record on the stereo and adjusted the sound. As the music spilled from the speakers, Maggie pranced into the center of the improvised stage.
Suddenly, all eyes on her, she came alive. Her eyes sparkled, her skin seemed warmer, a peachy color, her body vibrant.
John raked his eyes up her body, from her delectable ankles, housed in high heels, up her long, lovely bare legs to her twisting pelvis. Her suede skirt and silk blouse seemed to slide on wax as she began to gyrate her body.
"You've heard of belly dancers," Maggie said, her voice sexed up, husky and professional. "Well, I'm a pussy dancer. I'm going to peel all these hot old clothes right off and show you how my pretty little cunt performs."
In long strides, the satiny skin of her legs rippled by her muscles, she strode across the stage, taking off her turquoise necklace and sliding it to the floor. Then back across the stage she coasted, wiggling her gorgeous hips. She took off her silver bracelets. They rang as they hit the floor.
Now, spinning so that her bouncy butt faced the crowd, she began to undo her blouse. It fell to the floor and all attention focused on her creamy smooth back, banded by a flesh-colored bra strap, and on that marvelously active butt. She pressed her hard buttocks together and jiggled her sassy bottom.
I missed something. I wish I'd assfucked her, too.
The suede now seemed to cling to her bottom, defining its saucy roundness, as she shook it.
There's more than one hard-on in this crowd.
Suddenly, she pirouetted, presenting her dazzling face to the crowd. Wreathing her oval face in swaths of chocolate brown, her long, glossy hair fell in a kind of lustrous veil over her body, all the way to her waist. The contrast of her dark hair against her creamy, flawless skin produced a sultry, seductive beauty.
High on her chest, her swelling orbs of breasts strained against the nylon of the bra. Through peek-a-boo windows in each pod of the bra peered her huge, brown nipples.
She gyrated her body seductively, drawing a hand across her skirt. It split open and she glided it past her svelte hips until it fell to the floor. Nylon bikinis so sheer they showed the nest of dark hair beneath them covered her cunt. She looked like the girl of the month right out of the centerfold of Playboy.
The light flashed on her slender legs and creamy thighs as she danced. Tan high heels framed her feet in skin-pinching leather. The lips of her proud and prominent cunt parted luxuriously whenever she swayed back, tossing her head back so that her throat looked as smooth as fine sculpture.
With tapered fingers she rolled away the wisp of panties, kicking her shapely legs high to release them. Her cunt was like a rare, alluring jewel suddenly unveiled. Then, as quickly, she unsnapped the bra and withdrew it slowly; each mouth-watering tit lurched free independently. Then they bounced in rhythm with her voluptuous body, huge smooth gourds of flesh that cascaded down her midriff.
"Come on, boys, relax and have fun!" she teased, wetting her lips. "Take your cocks out and whack them."
John watched the others with more than casual curiosity. They hadn't drunk that much yet. He wondered if they'd really exhibit themselves.
"Come on, big boy!" Maggie insisted, dancing up to Erich, practically mopping his nose in her cunt.
The midget, staring at her, fingered the tremendous hill of his pants.
"Let me!" Maggie said.
As her body wriggled, she ran the zipper down his pants and reached in.
"Wow!" she cried. "It's a biggie."
Even John felt envious. The little man's cock was colossal -- long, hard and thick. He rubbed it, proud of his prick.
As quickly as she'd unzipped him, Maggie danced away, going down the line of men, smiling as she titillated them. But no one else was as bold as Erich.
The act was also turning on the women in the room.
No wonder the Kitty Kat's always packed!
In long, sensuous strides, her hands roaming her body, stroking her thighs, feeling her tits, she per-formed, her body in perfect rhythm with the music.
The crowd became silent suddenly as she paused, slowly spreading her legs. She tossed her brown hair in a sensuous spray and ran her tongue around her lips.
As she forked apart her legs, her cunt opened, like the mouth of a beautiful pink cave. Dew clung to its entrance. Its brown lips parted to reveal a deliciously wet, coral interior.
Tightening her hips, she threw her cunt forward and spread it even more succulently wide. Then, smiling, her hands on her hips, she made that supple, dripping cunt wink and blink.
Its lips smacked together, closing tightly, as if enveloping a heavy cock. As suddenly, they opened, revealing the glossy inside of her cunt -- a delicious, beckoning mouth.
As she snapped the lips of her cunt and rolled her hips, she kept mopping her mouth with her tongue -- repeatedly.
The calf muscles of her legs tightened, becoming smooth, hard cords, as she focused all her attention on playing with her cunt. It sucked in, juicy and inviting, and she sighed. It popped forward, the petals spreading, a slice of pink revealed. Dewy.
The illusion was convincing to John. She seemed to be taking cock and releasing it in long sucking and releasing motions of her cunt.
Erich was pounding his cock with hammerlike blows, oblivious to everyone except the dancer. Heads turned to and fro, eyes wide, mouths dry, as the crowd alternated its attention between the mesmeric twists of the dancer's body and the frenzied response of the midget, who was oblivious to any reality except the wriggle of the dancer's cunt.
"Now, who wants to taste me?" Maggie asked, her cunt still undulating.
Erich advanced toward her.
"You've got to get a stool!" she said.
"No, I don't!" he said sharply. "Bend down, you cunt!"
Some of the sexual tension the dancer had created exploded in laughter. Everyone in the room seemed to relax some -- except Erich. He was a man possessed.
As Maggie lowered her body serpentinely, mesmerized in her own way by the midget's gigantic prick, he fell upon her, not with his cock but with his mouth.
He buried his head in her dripping snatch and with long, thirsty strokes ran his tongue up and down the petals of her cunt.
She coasted her saucy butt back on her legs and gave him a wide path as he bent down on his knees, continuing to eat her, never unclasping his drooling, slurping mouth from her gushing slash.
"Ball her, Erich!" someone shouted.
"This is too nice to ruin with my big prick!" he said, looking up, a mask of cunt juice on his face.
The crowd roared.
Rocking to and fro on her legs, her heels tucked under her, she rolled her cunt to him. He ran his tongue ravenously into her dripping cunt. He sucked and sucked until her face froze. Maggie's eyes fixed on the little man, her body growing tauter and tauter.
She worked her cunt onto his tongue, her hands grasped his bald head, pushing it in deeper. Viciously, his head a blur of motion, he ate the fruit of her body.
Her body began to sway drunkenly. He didn't let up. She became limp and her body slid to the floor. A great tremor shook it.
Triumphantly, he rose, his cock throbbing, and held up a hand.
"The winner!" he shouted, a smug grin on his face.
The act triggered sexual pandemonium. Several couples disappeared into the bedrooms.
John watched as Maggie revived.
"Now I'm going to eat you, little man!" she said.
She rose to her knees as the midget walked toward her. With a loud smack, Erich directed his cock into her opening mouth.
At first, everyone watched Erich and Maggie making love. It was hypnotic. The little man energetically and skillfully began to ball the statuesque dancer after she'd gone down on him. Seeing the small but powerfully built little man shove his mammoth prick into the beautiful dancer was akin to attending a fantastically erotic freak show. It was a real turn-on, but the party-goers soon turned from the strange, exciting spectacle to attend to their own now urgent sexual needs. They'd been titillated enough.
Couples paired off. Male and female. Female and female. Male and male. Someone turned down the lights. Someone else changed the music on the stereo and turned the volume down. The fragrance of grass and flesh mingled. Voices merged in a low, throbbing whisper of Sex.
High on pot and whiskey, an explosive mixture for him, John staggered across the room. In the half light, he watched a gorgeous redhead lower her flickering tongue to Ken's big bat and then slowly envelop its swollen head in a ring of strawberry lips. Her long, silky eyelashes batted and she gasped as she swept more heavy cock into her mouth. Like a mad baker, Ken began kneading her huge tits as she sucked.
He watched Skinny Ellis, a well-known jazz musician, ram his. long skinny prick up a beautifully exposed milky white bottom, bordered by the model's leather skirt and her orange bikini pants, jerked down her thighs.
The party had become a bacchanal, wild and lusty. Everywhere he looked he saw bodies embracing, hands slithering down thighs, cocks entering orifices.
I've just got to get this on film!
He headed for his bedroom to load his Pentax. The available light conditions called for a fast film, Tri-X, but that suited him. The poor lighting gave the room mood.
Up the hall, a couple was plastered against the wall, hunching. He hurried past them.
Facing the closed door of his bedroom, he tried the knob. It wouldn't give.
Goddamn. They're even using my bedroom!
He hurried down the hall and entered the guest bedroom, crossing it to the large bathroom that connected that room and the adjoining master bed-room.
The moment he entered the bathroom he heard gasps and slurping sounds from his bedroom. He inched the door open and looked inside.
They didn't hear him or see him. They were too busy sucking. The sounds of their busy mouths re-minded him for a moment of hogs slopping at the trough.
The sight was a fantastic turn-on and something of a surprise, as well, although he knew many of his girls were AC/DC and that they shared apartments and interests. He didn't know they partied in threesomes, especially in such imaginative tableaus.
This tableau warmed his cock until it was ram-pant against his fly. He stood there feasting on the writhing of the three beautiful bodies, whispering obscenities as they enjoyed each other.
On her shiny knees, Violet Jackson, a tall. well-built blonde, occupied the center of the huge, round waterbed, her long, lustrous hair trailing to her ass crack.
From the front, Sybil Stallings, a brunette who modeled lipstick and was known in the trade as the girl with the richest, fullest, widest and most delectable mouth, had molded her lovely wet lips to Violet's cunt. eating pussy so passionately that her drool ran down Violet's tan thighs in jagged streaks.
From behind, Rebecca Wilson, gorgeous, gorgeous Becky who modeled shoes because her and-les were so sexy, had dug her pretty face between Violet's long, sinewy buttocks. Rebecca was thrusting her tongue into Violet's end with a serpent's rapid flicker.
Violet swayed on the bed, her voice breaking as she gave herself up to pleasure.
"I love it!" she cried in a husky, almost masculine voice. "Don't ever stop. I love it. Keep it up, you cunts!"
But it wasn't what they were doing that surprised John so much. It was what they were wearing. Both Sybil and Rebecca wore dance girl costumes. Smoky grey stockings stretched in a bright sheen up their long, shapely legs to disappear under lacy Valentine skirts. See-through blouses made their breasts look like packaged goodies.
In sharp contrast to the very feminine costumes of the others, Violet wore a motorcycle jacket of black leather. Combined with her short haircut, it gave her a masculine cast, although nobody who saw the burgeoning breasts beneath the jacket could ever mistake Violet for a male.
John caught on. Violet, playing a male role, was "forcing" the two saloon girls to service her. They seemed to be enjoying their slavery.
Violet rocked her luscious body back and forth between the agile, eager tongues of the two beau-ties, allowing those anxious little prick-like stabs to tease her body.
He fingered the bulge in his pants, wanting to stroke it in where Sybil's hungry mouth was making such a soppy, slurpy commotion.
As Rebecca sucked Violet's bottom, she caressed her thighs, running her hands in long, silken sweeps up and down the smooth, tan skin. At the same time, Violet began to manhandle Sybil's orange-sized tits through the sheer fabric of the see-through blouse. She too, a tit in each hand, rolling and squashing the Creamy breasts so hard she seemed to be jerking them from the model's body.
John edged into the room, his hard-on so huge now it was uncomfortable, making a tent in his pants.
"Take that blouse off, you slut," Violet shouted suddenly, her eyes burning into Sybil's. Then, spell-bound, John watched Sybil peel away the blouse to reveal her full breasts, the nipples brazenly hard, breasts so full they seemed inflated with a rare kind of air.
Sybil spotted him. She seemed anxious until her eyes drifted down his body and fixed on his hard-on. Then she smiled.
"We've got company!" she squealed.
Then, looking over her shoulder, Violet saw him.
"Welcome to the party!" she said, her voice not as husky now.
"I didn't know you three turned on this way," he said. "It's very exciting."
"We still like men," Violet said, almost apologetically. "It's just that ..."
"No need to explain."
"You look uncomfortable, John," Violet cooed.
"I am."
"Well, let's see if the three of us can't do some-thing about that huge, huge, beautiful hard-on of yours," she said.
"Help him get his clothes off," Violet ordered, continuing to dominate the other girls. As she lay back in the bed to watch, the other girls obligingly descended on John.
They were all woman now, swinging their long legs in their silk stockings, their boobs bouncing in their glossy packages. They dampened their lips, two sweet Valentines, so tightly pressed into their costumes that they seemed to be wearing onion-tight swim suits.
While Sybil unbuttoned his shirt, Rebecca unbuckled his belt. The shirt came loose and Sybil let it fall to the floor in a puddle as Rebecca slid the belt free with a swish of leather.
Then Rebecca unbuttoned his pants and unzipped his fly while Sybil tugged at the laces of his shoes. He felt Rebecca's hand probe into his shorts and free his cock, filling her fist.
"Christ, you're big, John!" she cried. "May I taste?"
He stroked his balls and ran his hand up the length of his cock, pushing away her hand.
Her tongue darted out and she put it hesitantly to his cock's fiery end. She flinched. "It's hot!" she squealed. But her passion overcame her awe and her hands cupped his balls as if they were a brandy glass. Opening wide, she placed her juicy mouth flower-like over that tremendous, throbbing head.
It was so pleasurable, that wet, sucking mouth that reamed his hard-on, that he feared he'd lose his wad of hot come right there.
"What's your pleasure?" Violet asked.
As Rebecca sucked on his cock, he thought.
"I want to see these lovely little cunts make love to each other while you suck me off, Violet!"
Violet smiled.
Rebecca slurped free of his stalk. "NO! I want to suck his cock!"
"It's a matter of graphics, isn't it, John?" Violet said soothingly. "Rebecca and Sybil go together. Hell, we can switch 'roles later."
Rebecca rose from her kneeling position and eyed Sybil, who was applying fresh lipstick. "You game?"
Sybil smacked her lips. "Sure ... I like your sweet little snatch."
"Do a little strip for us first, girls," Violet urged. "That turns me on, too."
"Jesus," Sybil said. "What's this turning into, a Broadway musical?"
John laughed.
He climbed into his own bed and Violet put her hand to his well-arched cock, stroking up its under-side, as the girls pranced to and fro beyond the bed's endboard like contestants in a bathing beauty contest.
Sweet. Two gorgeous, sexy Valentines, even sexier in those hot little costumes they wore.
They were really getting him hot. Their bodies twisted and turned in the brief bottoms and their tits swirled under the glass-like blouses. In high heels, their legs were even more compelling. The heels brought out some nice smooth little calf muscles he'd never noticed before.
Rebecca undid the clear buttons of the blouse, one by one, and fanned it open, exposing her beautiful, hard breasts, before she completely removed the top piece. Then she swirled and bent, looking back at him through her own parted legs, the muscles tensing from her well-shaped thighs down to her beautiful heels. Then, suddenly, she spun around and his eyes raked up her body from her feet to her sensuous face.
Violet put her lush, succulent lips to his cock, stretching them over its pulsing end and smiling. She stroked his balls as he watched Sybil start to strip, first removing her brief Valentine shorts to display apricot panties banding her wide hips and protuberant cunt.
Strung to her exciting stockings were the tentacles of her flesh-toned garter belt that also acted as nude-toned strips to define the darker, tan area of the luscious flesh around them.
He heard Violet gasp as his cock lengthened in her mouth, shoving toward her esophagus. He inched it backward and swabbed it to and fro, filling first one cheek and then the other with its knobby head.
The combination of flashing high heels, sheer smoky stockings straining against sleek, rippling leg flesh, and the sounds of choice cunt being violated, plus the unbridled lust Violet was releasing along his monumental hard-on, was transporting him to some kind of hedonist heaven.
Sybil started to free a stocking from her garter belt.
"Leave that on, Sybil," he panted. "It's a real turn-on. You too, Rebecca."
"Shit, you're a worse fetishist than Violet," Sybil said kiddingly.
"I was brought up on fetishes," he said. "My whole generation was. Besides, don't you know it's packaging that makes everything attractive, even beautiful nudes? Hell, I thought I'd taught you that in your first week of modeling."
While he sermonized, Violet rode her pursed, full lips up and dowp his cock, shellacking it with running mouth juices, stroking his balls as she feasted.
"Let's make love, Sybil," Rebecca said.
"On the floor?" Sybil asked.
"Hell, no, there's plenty of room on the bed."
John couldn't take his eyes off them as they curled up at the foot of the bed, still in their tight-fitting panties, their sheer stockings and their shiny heels.
Sybil pressed her full, wide, red lips -- the focus of many an advertising campaign -- onto the ripe, grape-sized nipple of Rebecca's right breast. Rebecca whimpered, thrilled by the soft, wet touch-down.
As Sybil sucked, her long, tapered fingers roamed Rebecca's excellently molded body, stroking her nylon-covered thighs, roaming to her covered cunt. Rebecca's feet jerked as Sybil maneuvered beneath the panties and plunged two fingers up her streaming cunt.
In response, Rebecca began to stroke Sybil's long brown hair, using her fingers as a comb.
"You're so beautiful," Rebecca said. "I love your long, silky hair and your long, lovely body."
Sybil began to pump her fingers hard into Rebecca's wide-open cunt, riding them swiftly against her aroused clit. Rebecca started to bounce convulsively, her hips rising to throw her sweet cunt against the fingers that stabbed into her.
Watching the two beautiful models even as she gobbled John's cock, Violet became so turned on her mouth was like a motor vibrating and sucking up and down his cock at unbelievable speed, inundating his stiff prick with a flood of saliva. It was as if his huge, hard, male member actually belonged to one of the girls Violet was watching, in her fantasy a gigantically swollen clit that she was sucking.
John stared unabashedly as Sybil released her hand from Rebecca's cunt and it trailed cunt juice. Quickly, Sybil put her fingers to her mouth and tasted the cunt juice, licking her fingers dry of it. Then, her blue eyes bright with impish delight, she used both hands to pull down Rebecca's panties and to loosen the tops of her silk stockings from the flesh-toned garter belt.
Sighing like a gourmet, she rolled the smoky silk stockings, wispy in her hands, down those lovely, curvaceous, glistening thighs.
"Now I can really enjoy myself," Sybil said, her breathing labored.
She spread Rebecca's trembling legs widely apart and shoved her beautiful head into the open, running, pink gash of Rebecca's cunt.
Such slurping and licking and swallowing John had never heard. Rebecca threw her still-stockinged legs ecstatically skyward and wrapped them in a loving vise around Sybil's smooth shoulder, locking her in.
Deeper Sybil sank her greedy mouth, her tongue in constant motion along the long, erected bud of Rebecca's slit, her lips shaped above and below that slippery little man in the boat to keep it from escaping her lustful attack.
Rebecca was panting now, her excitement building to a torrid pitch. Her body wriggled, ecstasy coiling up and down it.
With a sudden firm move, Rebecca edged her hands beneath her own hard, slick buttocks and shoved them upward, offering Sybil the gushing fountain of her pussy.
Her face a frozen mask of pleasure, Sybil sucked hard on Rebecca's twitching twat, trying to drain her of all that delicious pussy sap. But the flow was too great. She was flooded with Rebecca's cunt juice, her face covered with it, her nostrils filled with it, her lips shiny from it.
Violet kept spinning up and down John's cock in a kind of delirium, her brown eyes fixed on Sybil and Rebecca as she vented her lust on the fleshy spike that rose so magnificently from John's body.
Rebecca's long body began to jerk in a spasm of deliverance as Sybil rapped harder, encasing Rebecca's clit in her lovely, wet mouth and rubbing its length in a smooth ribbon of hot mouth tissue.
In rhythm with Sybil's performance, Violet was now swinging up and down John's fully hard and fully packed cock at the same measured rate, her small teeth now and then pressing into his flesh to increase his lust.
He felt the come snaking and churning in his balls, ready at any moment to fire out his meaty tube to paint Violet's tonsils.
Rebecca's legs fell limp and her face became pure bliss. "I'm co ... comingggggggg ... oh, I'm coming!"
He grabbed Violet's red curls and began to ram her face onto his fat pole with a wild, savage urgency, seeing her eyes widen, a faint trace of fear in them.
She tried to free herself, she tried to speak, but he kept ramming her beautiful oval face, her short red curls dancing like wood shavings, onto his erection, until his cock felt raw.
It wasn't until he saw Sybil raise her face from Rebecca's sated cunt that he came. The moment he saw that lovely mouth with a thick film of female come on it and those cheeks wearing a sheen of Rebecca's pussy sap and those glazed eyes, full of a kind of sensual pride, he erupted.
He jerked Violet's head free and he directed his hot, boiling spray all over it. Her eyes closed and he pasted them with come. Her mouth closed and he sealed it with come. Her face flushed and he painted it with his milky white cosmetic.
Violet crawled down the bed, her whole body vibrating with excitement, and embraced Sybil. With out a word, Sybil submitted as the larger woman guided herself atop Sybil's body and began to kiss her passionately and frantically.
As he lay back, savoring his own relief, and as Rebecca lay still, still sighing, the bed began to thrash with the lovemaking of the two women who hadn't yet reached orgasm.
He watched in utter fascination as Violet's waxy buttocks worked, driving her pelvis into Sybil's. Sybil began to writhe and sigh.
The musk of their bodies filled the room. Sybil's long, silk-encased legs still in those shiny heels spun around Violet's body and the spikes dug into the luscious back flesh, making little pits. The pain of the spiking only increased Violet's ardor. Her body ground into Sybil's with a man's force and she humped like a man.
John had felt her huge clit. Now he knew Sybil was feeling it. It was poking into her with the power of a man. What it lacked in length and thickness it made up for in sheer driving impact.
He could tell by Sybil's impassioned responses, her driving heels, the cries that broke from her mouth, that Violet had hit target. Rubbery wet clit was grinding against slick wet clit in a focused and concentrated effort for climax.
Sybil's high-pitched scream tore into his ears. Her body bounced high to meet Violet's expertly positioned clit.
They came together -- like man and woman.
He watched as Violet slowly drew back, her beautiful body shiny with sweat, her fragile back-bone sliding under the skin.
In a husky voice, she turned toward John, who watched with his erect cock in his hand: "Now everybody's happy!" she said.
"Not quite," he said. "Now I want to fuck her."
CHAPTER TEN
Bzzzzzzzzzz ... bzzzzzzzz ... bzzzzzzzz ...
Something kept annoying John as he poured martinis from a huge pitcher into several glasses thrust forward at the bar.
... bzzzzzzzz ... bzzzzzzzz . bzzzzzzzz ...
He smiled at the blonde and filled her glass to the brim. She winked at him.
... bzzzzzzzz ... bzzzzzzzz ... bzzzzzzzz ...
... bzzzzzzzz ...
Someone's at the door!
He pushed through the room swirling with bodies and opened the door. John grinned lasciviously when he saw Rowena.
"Hi, baby!" he said. "Having a little party. Come on in."
"We were supposed to go swimming, remember? We had a date."
He yanked her by the arm into the room.
"We'll go swimming any time you want to, baby -- in the nude."
She put her hands on her hips and stiffened her body. "John, you're drunk! Let me fix you some black coffee."
John tottered, raising the glass of straight gin to his mouth and taking a big swig. "I don't need any coffee ... I need some pussy."
Her face flushed. "I think Pd better leave," she said. She turned abruptly, her dark hair flying.
He caught her arm. "Leave? Shit, the party's just started. Come on, baby. let's dance."
She jerked free of him and tried to open the door, but he blocked her way. People were watching them now.
"Come on, baby, don't be a party pooper!" His grip tightened on her arm.
"Let go of my arm, John, this minute!" she said. Her grey eyes darkened in anger.
"Ah, fuck you ... you're not the only chick in this city, believe me."
"I'm leaving, John ... take your hands off me!" Her eyes found his and for a moment her angry yet distressed look pierced his drunken fog.
He released her arm and she flung open the door, hurrying up the hall. He set his glass on a table with a bang and went after her.
She ran up the carpeted hall, her purse swinging wildly from her shoulder, and jammed on the elevator button. Its door scissored open and she rushed in. By the time he reached it the damned box had already gone down to the nineteenth floor. He rushed toward the steps, rounding them so fast he spun on the marble and hit the floor. He tried to get up but his ankle gave way.
"Shit!" he said out loud. "I'll be damned, I sprained my fucking ankle."
Slowly, putting his weight on his right foot, he rose and limped back toward his apartment. The racket inside his place died when he staggered through the doorway.
Mandy Winters, his favorite model, and Brenda Smith, a photographer, hurried toward him.
Mandy's pale eyebrows rose. "What happened, John?" she asked.
"God, you look terrible," Brenda said.
"I fell down chasing that broad!" he said. He leaned against a table and straightened his clothes. "Help me to my bedroom, would you? I want to put a bandage on this ankle."
Mandy supported him from one side and Brenda from the other as he, hobbled through the maze of faces. Everybody wad watching. The din in the room had died.
"Enjoy!" he shouted suddenly. "Enjoy! Pm okay. Get back to your partying!"
The noise resumed, like a stereo turned back on. Glasses clinked, bodies entwined, laughter split the air. In the midst of it all a group had formed around Erich, who was doing imitations of famous actors: Bogart, Gable, John Wayne.
John smiled. Erich was good. He'd mesmerized the group and Maggie as well. At his elbow she was keeping his drink fresh. John was glad most of the guests were having a good time, although he wasn't. He knew he was still half drunk and he felt depressed on top of it. Why had he treated Rowena so badly?
They reached the bedroom and Mandy flicked on the lights while Brenda hurried ahead of them and straightened the bed covers and popped some life into one of- the huge twin pillows, propping it on the headboard.
He sat on the bed's edge. Mandy ran a cool hand across his forehead. "Feel better?" she asked.
"Hell, I'm okay," he answered. "Brenda, look in my medicine cabinet in the bathroom and get the Johnson & Johnson bandage, will you?"
"Now lie back," Mandy said.
He began to enjoy it. Shit, two beautiful women were waiting on him hand and foot. He started to feel horny.
Mandy sat at the foot of the bed and watched him. Her eyes were warm and her body looked lovely in that aqua pants suit.
Then Brenda returned with the bandage. As the girls watched, he took off his shoe and sock and applied the bandage to his swelling ankle. It helped.
"Get me a fresh drink, Brenda, will you?" he asked. He lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply. Tendrils of smoke curled from his nostrils. He was be-ginning to feel much better.
"Whiskey?" she asked.
"Scotch and soda," he said.
He watched every twist, of her body as Brenda left the room. A tall, willowy gal with auburn hair, she'd been a nude model before becoming a photographer. He'd never gone to bed with her; he'd al-ways wanted to -- just to see that fabulous body.
"I can read your mind," Mandy said, smiling. "Brenda's a very sexy girl."
"You're not so bad yourself," he said. "Come here!"
She slid along the bed, her long, champagne blond hair catching the light of the room. She'd brushed her hair out the way he liked it, in a long train down her back.
John grasped her by her silky waist; her expensive perfume intoxicated him as he pressed her to his body until her perky tits hung invitingly close to his body, protected only by the wispy aqua top of her pants suit. Her eyes brightened and a smile broke on her wide mouth. It was so close to his mouth now he could see those freckles.
"The sick man's improving fast!" she said.
He closed her mouth with his lips, pressing them hungrily to her tasty gash. She responded, holding his head with the tapered fingers of both hands. His tongue entered her mouth and she swabbed it and sucked on it. Her hard, grape-sized nipples, erecting, pricked his chest' through her top.
Mandy's body began to tremble as he pulled her tighter to him, and his cock rose, stiff and thick against his fly.
As he kissed her, he unzipped his fly and pulled out his big cock, grasping it in his fist.
She'd heard the telltale sound of the zipper. "May I feel it?" she asked.
He spun her body around and she closed a hand over its pulsing head. It grew and fattened in the velvet cup of her hand as she rubbed it softly. Then she began to stroke up and down its furiously red length, her lovely face half hidden from him by a veil of her long blond hair.
"You get turned on fast!" she said.
"It's all your fault," he said. "You shouldn't be so fucking sexy."
Goddammit, I'm weak. I'm a weak man. I should be with Rowena, making love to her.
Mandy began to unbutton her pants-suit top, button by button. His cock, free of her hand, throbbed violently as she parted the aqua folds and took off her top. Her big breasts bounced out -- the nipples on full hard-on.
"You need titty," she said. She cupped one of her graceful, full breasts with both hands and offered it to him.
He fell to it, his mouth licking and slurping, his tongue running over the rough tower of nipple and dwelling there. She pressed her flesh into his mouth, feeding him the rare velvet of her breast. Her soft hand started to masturbate him again in long, lingering strokes tailored to his cock's length and thickness, measured to please, to start the come stirring in the cauldrons of his balls.
Neither of them heard Brenda come back into the room. Nude, Mandy was atop him, stripped of her clothes, gliding her succulent body onto his when he suddenly saw Brenda, her mouth ajar, the glass of scotch in her hand.
"Want to join us?" he asked.
The surprised look on her face faded. Her lips twisted into a sarcastic, sensual line. "Why not?" she answered.
Mandy's champagne blond hair fell forward, its fluffy tips trailing to his chest, as she lowered her shapely body toward the red rod that throbbed between his loins.
Thoughtful Mandy ... she knows it's easier for me with her on top ... a mature and wise woman. I should love her, not Rowena.
Her tits, like huge pearls, danced closer to his chest, the nipples the color of coral, the aureoles puckered. He fondled her tits, squeezing them the way he tested oranges at the supermarket. They were ripe and they salved the roughness of his palms, the nipples like hard bullets.
He sensed the nearness of her humid cunt to the hot end of his cock. In his fantasy her cunt ran like a leaky faucet and the stream of cunt juice hitting his hot cockhead turned into steam.
Her cunt, petals spread like wings, touched his quivering cock and the sensation was so thrilling he felt the come swirl in his scrotum. Mandy reamed her soppy cunt around his hard spike, the melon-like tissue of her vagina spreading ecstasy through his body.
John tweaked her nipples and that set her hips afire; she squashed got, wet cunt all over his cock-head. As he savored that lovely mopping, he saw Brenda move toward him, her mouth in a cupid's bow, freshly painted with a frosty lipstick. She approached him sideways. Her hands raked across the coarse hair of his chest and played with his nipples; the velvet of her touch made them hard.
As Mandy impaled herself on his upright pole, her eyes black shadows of joy, her thighs trembling from her own excitement, Brenda maneuvered her mouth to his, one tit splashing warmth against his body. Brenda's mouth was as wet and warm as Mandy's cunt. Her tongue lashed wetly against his. Her lips were as soft as clouds. He felt his cock grow, nurtured by the wet, clinging walls of Mandy's pussy.
Two very accommodating broads. They're even cooperating with each other.
"God, you're hot!" Brenda panted, her voice a whisper, her lips inched back from his mouth. "I wish I had that big cucumber up me. You're fucking like a man who's trying to forget something."
"Someone," he said.
Brenda pasted her beautiful, wet mouth to his right nipple and sucked and massaged and ravished it as he bucked his hips, shooting his fleshy stake far up Mandy's lovely belly.
He soared cock into Mandy's heavenly body. She'd thrown back her head and closed her eyes as her body riveted hot, slurping cunt onto the pole that impaled her.
Her body rose and fell in a poetic cadence up and down the thickened bludgeon, his balls snap-ping with the speed of his entries.
Mandy's cunt was delicious, the flesh soft and pliant, licking heat onto his cock. With long, searing strokes he rode into the gully of her belly. She shook her head in a stream of shimmering blond hair and it cascaded across her face. Her green eyes, burning with lust, peeked through the curtain of blondness.
Clinging hungrily to the rod that was giving her such immense pleasure, she puckered and pouted her cunt along its length. She swept her sweet cunt down to his bold stake with an increasing rapacity.
Now Brenda, her head situated between Mandy's dancing fits and his hairy chest, rolled her tongue up and down his breastbone.
Their attentions were like a drug. He sank into a euphoric state in which nothing mattered except this supreme pleasure, this indulgence of his body. He even forgot Rowena.
Mandy's cunt began to twitch and her breathing became choppy. Faster and faster she hurled herself onto him. Her body exuded a strong, feminine aroma.
"I've got to come!" she panted. "John, make me come!"
Her cunt seemed to split wide open and shower him with hot droplets of cunt sap as he hunched, his hips in the air straining, his pelvis thrusting, thrusting until he thought he'd pop his balls with the furious pounding inside them.
A blond vision, she swayed, her face submerged in her beautiful hair, her fingers balled into tight fists.
He suddenly felt tile full force of her lower body slamming onto his prick. She'd become crazed with the need to come. Tier breath came in great gasps, her body heaved, her hips shook like jelly. The wet,, hot tissue of her lively cunt smeared his big bat with its balm.
Gloriously hot, her soft, working cunt became wetter and wetter. His fleshy shaft fired up her pussy to an inferno heat as he plunged up her repeatedly in blind, savage stabs.
He felt her squeezing his turgid tool with strong, contracting waves of inner muscles along her vagina's slippery walls. Immersed in an exotic garden of hot flesh and cunt oil, his cock flourished and grew. Her thighs were filmy with sweat, her fits slick with it, her body glowing.
He fucked even harder, watching her breasts fly and her belly skin ripple, the down of blond hair on it like fine grass. Balling her fast and deep, he relished the way she abandoned her body to his lust and then swept up the wet, hard rewards.
Flexing his loins, he slapped cock in and out of her deeply pierced cuntal mound, shaking her trim, filmy thighs with his power. Tingling surges of passion racked her voluptuous body. Her long, satiny legs trembled uncontrollably.
"My god, you're ripping me apart!" she cried.
He eased up.
"But don't stop."
The big, round knob of his long cock stirred up hot oil far in her shimmering well of cunt. The long, deep channel he'd burrowed now flowered open and sucked in his urgent, demanding prick.
She delighted in the deepness of his thrusts and wallowed in the lustful looks he gave her as he choked her body with his thrusting, heavy, thick root.
He balled her with a steadiness that sent shiver after shiver through the lovely contours of her body. The elastic rim of her cunt clung to his fat tool like a rubber.
Her body, convulsing, gathered all its strength for those final plunges that would transport her to nirvana.
Mandy came, swirling her heated body atop his shiny prick head. She came again. She fell back, staring at his stiff, stiff prick.
"You're a satyr, John!" she said. Sated, she stretched back luxuriously on the bed, watching him and Brenda with a curious detachment. She yawned.
Aware of the hard prick that still needed satisfaction, Brenda slid farther down John's body and slipped her tongue into his navel, sponging it with her full, wet lips.
For the first time, John got a full, breathtaking view of Brenda's naked body. The raves he'd heard about it hadn't been exaggerated. It was firm and perfectly formed.
She raised her head, shaking auburn curls, her eyes kindling with lust.
"I'll make you come," she said smoothly.
"Be my guest!" he said.
"First I have to get something," she said.
She rose and he liked the way the combination of shadow and light in the room brought out the sleek contours of her body. Her tits were tremendous, long and hard, turning up in sassy cupfuls of flesh at their ends. In the soft light, her nipples were like black cherries swimming in the dark, lily-pond lakes of her aureoles.
"May I borrow a robe?" she asked. She stood beside the bed, a half smile on her face.
Unsated, his cock remained fully erect, towering above his body. At his feet, Mandy had dropped off to sleep. He suddenly realized he'd balled four women tonight. Four. But he still hadn't satisfied himself. Something was lacking.
"Well?" Brenda asked.
"Sure -- there're several in that closet." He pointed. "Help yourself. You can roll up the sleeves."
He watched her slip into a red silk robe with a diamond pattern. She tied the sash. In the long, ill-fitting robe she reminded him of a moppet -- a naughty one at that.
"I'll be right back," she said. "Just keep that handsome big cock hard for me." She left.
John didn't detect any outward difference in her when she returned. Yet when she came nearer she seemed more fragrant. It was a change in fragrance -- subtle.
She smiled and took off the robe, unveiling a body so tantalizing he drooled. It was the way she undraped the robe and the way she stood -- a classic nude pose. But he didn't see what she'd done to her body until she climbed back in bed.
Those delicious red-red nipples were frosty -- a delicious frosty pink -- and they smelled like straw-berries!
She cupped them.
"Want to taste?" she asked.
"Hell yes."
"Oh, your poor cock's gotten soft."
"It won't stay that way."
As he put his mouth to one delicious, lipstick-coated nipple, his cock began to fill with blood and to rise again, lurching out between his loins.
She played with his balls, juggling them in the cool palm of her hand.
"Now I'll give you a massage, John," she said. She lowered her luscious body over his now fully aroused cock and slowly wrapped her soft, warm breasts, gayly festooned, around the mammoth horn on his body.
It throbbed as she rubbed those breasts softly into its flaming hot surface. The touch of snow, the touch of cream. Faster she rubbed her flaring tits, moving her torso so that her breasts slid up and down his blood-engorged cock as she squeezed and rubbed their tender flesh hard against his rampant manhood.
With a child's wickedness, she pressed those frosty, lipsticked nipples inward until they pricked the torrid hardness of his cock and painted it frosty pink and imbued it with the fragrance of strawberries.
Christ!
She rubbed her long fingers soothingly along her breasts as she bent them against his stiff, thick cock, so inundated with titty that already the come in his balls was rising like a high wind in a tropical storm.
He loved the look on her sensual face. It was one of sheer sexual joy -- a creative joy.
"Like?" she asked, the words dripping from her mouth.
"Love," he answered.
As she massaged, quicker and quicker, the tension mounted in his balls. He decided he didn't want to spurt come all over those beautiful balls of flesh that were massaging him so lovingly. No, he wanted his cock plugged into her wet mouth, just as lovely as cunt, painted with the same lipstick which had rubbed off on his prick.
He watched, totally fascinated, as she dampened her mouth until it was glossy. Glossy and frosty. He knew she lusted to suck him, wanting it as much as he.
John put his hands to her bare shoulders and shoved her backward. Her tits bounced from his cock and swayed on her chest.
"Now suck, baby. Suck!"
She slid down on her stomach and arched her head lovingly upward, pulling his heavy cock, throbbing insistently, down to her pretty mouth. Her hands grasped his thighs as she enclosed his tremendous cockhead in the rose softness of her mouth, the air ripe with the smell of strawberries.
Her eyes brightened and a sigh broke from her as she swept inch after inch of his pulsing cock up her mouth until she was nearly gagging on it. He swashed it around and her tongue grappled for space to maneuver. Her hand stroked his balls in long, cool sweeps as she started to glide to and fro. Each forward thrust filled her face with fat cock. Each exodus left her cheeks shallow.
Now, with a nagging, haunting persistence, Rowena returned to his thoughts. He experienced the overwhelming fantasy that Rowena was sucking him off. He felt the rising need to come.
He began to fuck Brenda's mouth, watching her painted lips desperately grasp and cling to the hot bough of cock that pistoned into her.
John steadied her head, watching her curls dance, as he rammed that thick mass into her again and again. With an amazing adaptability, she accommodated every .fiery inch of that ugly, red stick that reeled into her, catching at his swinging hips to soften the blows.
He seemed to stagger her body with the mounting urgency of the boiling come in his balls. He could tell she loved the large, hot feel of it, its in-tense sexuality as it packed her face. Her malleable mouth slid and rolled and sucked all at once, sending rhythmic waves of pleasure up his body.
Her mouth was like a pussy, red and wet, a pussy set in a beautiful, lustful face that appreciated every hard, thick lunge up it. Her lips were gliders that rode that log inch after inch into her succulence.
Her eyes stared. With each thrust his red-hot stalk sank far up her wet mouth. Her tongue quivering, her mouth salivating, she fought to hang on. Her oval lips became glossier and redder as he wore her mouth nearly raw with his frenzied entries.
Enormous, her breasts heaved wildly, balloons about to burst. He was so excited he didn't bother to trap them with his hands.
The face of Rowena was before him as he jammed prick into Brenda Smith's lovely, waiting, clinging, wet mouth.
He felt it explode.
Jerking his cock free, he spurted goblets of pearly white come on her frosty pink lips. She smacked her lips and caught the dew to swallow it.
Another jet smacked her nose and sat on it like a milky raindrop.
"Happy now?" she asked.
"Relieved," he said.
At the foot of the bed, Mandy blinked her eyes, awakening from her nap.
"Hey, did I miss anything?" she asked, in a sleepy voice.
"Only a whopping orgasm, honey," Brenda said, pleased with herself.
John rose up in the bed and sat on its edge. Slowly, he stood, still dazzled by all that sex.
When he put his strained ankle to the floor, pain bolted up his leg. He winced. He staggered into his robe and started for the shower.
Suddenly, he felt miserable all over, hungover, fucked out, and depressed. Fear gripped his mind. He was afraid he'd lost Rowena.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
John cut off his windshield wipers; they died slowly in crescent paths across the glass. The streets were shiny and black and the air perfumed with rain. He parked I Ma Romeo around the corner from her apartment building and walked.
Hope she's home.
He passed Bomstein's Delicatessen and a Chinese hand laundry and a health foods store -- all closed.
When he reached her building, he mounted the steps and rang the bell. The landlord, a paunchy man in a T-shirt that barely covered his gut, came to the door.
"What do you want?" the man growled.
"I want to see Miss Vukonovic in 4-D."
"She ain't home," he said.
"I'd rather see for myself."
"Suit yourself, mister, but close that door behind you. This place has been burglarized four times in the past year."
He moved on past the fat slob and up the stairs. The ripe odor of tomato sauce filled the hallway on the second floor. He rounded the turn and went on up to the fourth level, his breath coming hard, his injured ankle aching.
Out of shape, dammit. Too much booze, too much smoking, and too much cunt.
He paused and sucked in air, taking out a cigarette but then deciding not to smoke it. He hurried up the hall to 4-D.
No light showing under the door. Not a sound inside. But he knocked softly three times on the door. He waited. He lit the cigarette and knocked again. Nothing stirred inside the apartment.
John checked his watch. It was 1:10 a.m.
Wonder if she ran to Harry? No, I don't think so. Maybe she went over to her Aunt Vera's. But it's awfully late to visit the old lady.
He took his time leaving the building. He kept thinking he'd see her running up the stairs, her face brightening when she saw him. But no such luck.
On the street, he cut into Washington Square Park. The benches were full. He passed three junkies, two guys and a chick, trembling all over, huddled together on a bench; they were passing a cigarette among them, taking hungry drags on it. They looked up, their eyes like animals' -- too bright. The chick's lips quivered as she started to say something, but didn't. Just a kid -- a faded kid who looked twice her age.
Goddam, it must be hell to be hooked on that crap!
From between twin lamp posts he emerged on the park's far side and started up bustling MacDougal. It was still swinging.
Young couples hurried into coffee houses, a pretty girl posed for a pencil sketch on the side-walk, two guys wolfed down Polish sausages out-side a restaurant. Wearily, cops stalked the street.
John ducked into a below-the-street-level bar. It was a Greek place, the kind Rowena would stop in for a drink or some food. Artsy. Lots of posters.
He ordered ouzo, a delicious anisette-type Greek drink, and leaned into the oak bar, seeing his own image in the fly-specked bar mirror. He looked old -- old and used, shadows like bruises under his eyes, his complexion pasty. He wondered what the hell Rowena saw in him anyway.
She's too good for me.
The bartender, skinny man with bad teeth, slid the glass of ouzo across the slippery bar top to him. John mixed water into the drink and watched it turn milky white. He sipped it and turned toward the packed room of young people, laughing and clowning in a cloud of blue-white smoke. Expectantly, his eyes roamed the girls' faces. He kept thinking he'd see Rowena.
A patch of blue denim flashed on the periphery of his vision, and he turned sideways to face a sun-burst of a smile on a round, freckled face.
"Buy me .a drink?" the young blonde asked, brushing back her long blond hair from her face. The denim jacket and pants and the freckles and the round face gave her a strawberry-fresh wholesomeness.
"You're too young," he said.
"I'm eighteen," she said pertly. "And eighteen's the legal age in New York."
"I know."
"Well?" she asked.
"What do you want?" he said.
"I love ouzo."
He ordered for her and lit a cigarette as he studied her face.
Awfully young to be a hustler. Too wholesome looking.
"I like older men," she said suddenly.
"I'm old enough to be your father," he said.
Old enough to be Rowena's father, too.
"So?" she said. "What's that got to do with anything? Besides, you don't Iook that old." She laughed. "My daddy's fifty-two."
He smiled. "Are you a student?"
"I'm a singer," she answered. "I sing bluegrass at the Dugout."
She started to tell him about herself and he bought another drink. Her Southern accent gave her voice a pleasant lilt.
Her voice is as soft as Rowena's.
"You're not listening," she said abruptly. "Some-thing's bothering you."
"I'm looking for someone," he said. "A young woman about your age."
"Christ, man, the Village is full of young chicks!"
But only one Rowena. Nobody's like my Rowena. Got to find her!
He wadded a ten dollar bill into the blonde's hand. "Have some fun!" he said.
Her face still carried a puzzled look as he hurried out of The Olive Tree.
The streets of the East Village were clogged now. He pushed and shoved and paddled his way through the crowds; he looked everywhere for her, diving into coffee houses, stopping at small art galleries, lingering on street corners.
Finally, worn out, his ankle still bothering him, he returned to Washington Square Park and rested on a bench. He smoked and thought.
I want that girl. I want that girl more than I've ever wanted anyone or anything in my life.
After two cigarettes, he crossed the park back to her street. Before ringing, he tried the outer door. It opened.
Thank god for little things. I'd hate to face that fat-slob landlord again tonight.
Slowly he climbed 'the stairs, again smelling the tomato sauce, seeing 'the same smears on the walls and the same words penciled in.
Such a cheap damn place. She deserves better.
He trudged up the hall, hardly believing his eyes when he saw the splinter of yellow, bright on the floor, outside her place.
He knocked. She opened the door.
"John!"
"Did you just come in?" he asked.
"Just this minute. I took a long walk."
"I've been looking for you, Rowena. I want you to forget that nasty scene at my place. I love you. Believe that."
Her eyes softened, tears escaping from them.
"Well, don't just stand in the hall like some sales-man!" she said weakly. "Come in."
He entered, closing the door, then swept her into his arms. He ravished her face with kisses. Then he held her by the face.
"Rowena, I want .you to understand something. I loved you from the first day I saw you. I kept fighting it. I'm pretty egotistical. I didn't want to fall in love. I wasn't really concerned about hurting Harry's feelings. I was afraid to commit myself -- to live with you or marry you."
"I know that, John," she said softly, hugging him tightly. "I'm a gypsy, remember? And I love you. I knew that for certain when I left your place tonight and felt such a great emptiness. I knew you were just trying to forget me amidst all that gaiety and drinking."
"It was a stinking damn party, baby ... those people don't know anything about love. The men just want to get laid and the women want to have fun. There's more to love than a good screwing." He laughed. "Not that a good screwing can't make true love a hell of a lot rosier."
He lay back in the bed, waiting for her to emerge from the bathroom. He'd stripped down to his shorts and turned on the small fan on the end table, directing its breeze across his face.
Light fanned across the room as the door opened and she stood framed in the doorway. Her body was filmy smooth, like celluloid movie film. Every contour and line of her body seemed polished. She'd combed out her dark hair so that her face seemed more mature and sensual; her hair, glossy and brown, forked over her tits, each of them sitting high, full and firm. In the strange light her nipples appeared to be black roses, miniature roses, and her lips seemed as satiny and smooth as the soft surface of an exotic fruit.
She smiled.
"What have you put on that lovely body?" he asked. "It even smells good."
"It's a body oil that Parisian artists' models use. I bought some in Paris last summer."
"Did you model?"
"A few times -- for artists -- to help pay my expenses." She started toward him.
Damn, if life isn't strange. I end up loving a model after all. An artist-model.
He sat up in bed and reached out for her, his hands sliding on the skin of her hips.
"Sexy, isn't it?" she said.
"Yeah, but I don't know if I'll be able to hang on to you."
"I won't slip away, d promise," she said.
"Kiss me!" he demanded.
Her beautiful, long, dark hair fell across her face in a veil and he parted it, touching his lips to hers. She tasted of peppermint.
"Fancy lipstick, too! I really don't deserve all this."
"I love you, John," she said in a soft voice. "I want my body to be desirable."
He pulled her fully onto the bed. The sheen of her body was so beautiful she seemed almost untouchable, the soft, caramel tone of her skin heightened by the oil.
Greedily, he moved his hands to her tits, cool and smooth, cupping them so that the fleshy caramel balls lay roundly in the palms of his hands. He bounced them and they seemed to harden. They rolled smoothly across his palms, even silkier to the touch than usual.
He bent to kiss first her left breast, molding it in his hand, then the right one, squeezing it toward his mouth. The well-shaped coral nipples were like gumdrops in his mouth.
Pressing his mouth firmly to her enticing, wet lips, he caught a yellow flash of desire in- her eyes. She fused her ripe, succulent lips to his. Her tongue dived into his mouth and wildly sought his as she pulled his head with both hands more firmly to her. Then she began to gyrate her gash of a mouth in a wet frenzy. She became so excited her teeth bit into his lips, but he loved it.
He responded in kind, nibbling on her lips, wanting to draw blood, wanting that kind of pact between them. It was a singularly new desire in him and it convinced him even more that he loved her.
John nibbled harder on the pillow of satin that was her lips. She didn't flinch. He tasted it -- the trickle of sweet blood.
"God, I love you!" she cried. "Oh, I love you, man. You're all man. I love you for biting me. I love you for being so primitive!"
"You little she-devil!"
He now feasted on her mouth. It wasn't bloody and he'd only barely broken the skin but it seemed red and raw and it was his mark on her. They ground their mouths together and their faces swirled in a passion of kissing.
Her face seemed wet to him. She seemed to have surfaced from a deep, dark green lake that had coated her body with this mysterious and sensual mask.
As he straddled her, he felt her tapered fingers encompass his balls tenderly and caress them. Then she ran a soft finger evenly and tantalizingly up the underside of his strongly risen cock, bobbing and throbbing, until she reached its hot end. Cupping his huge cockhead in her hand, she revolved it in a pad of silk.
The sexual tension was becoming unbearable. With a jerk he released his cock from her hand and his mouth from hers. He ran his hands down her sleek, perfumed body to her shapely legs, in a sheen of oil. Rudely, he parted them and took a swift look over her naked, glistening body before he plunged his hard meat up her.
Spasms of pleasure fingered through him as he watched her passion risd and felt it in the twitching and rippling of her-body..
He pistoned into her with sure, hard thrusts. Her sucking cunt, warm and wanton, wrapped clinging flesh the length of his demanding hot cock.
His body smacked hers with a sharp noise. Her sumptuous body pressed upward, eagerly accepting each piercing stab of his long prick. Soon, some of the smooth film of oil on her body was transferred to his body; his loins glistened with it.
With a long, powerful, singularly deep-probing entry he flattened her body to the mattress and simultaneously jiggled her tits. He left his prick ensconced in her .and began to ball to and fro. Her body quickly picked up the rhythm.
He thrilled in it, in that grind of wringing wet pussy tissue all over his cock's firmly embedded head. Her beautifully formed body was his willing prisoner, all of it -- her long, sleek legs, her wide, voluptuous hips, her large, mouth-watering breasts -- staked down and claimed by his immense cock, pounding with blood.
Slowly, he eased backward, feeling her clutch and snap, delighted when she started bucking, trying to compensate for his withdrawal by sending her soppy pussy farther up that thick, fat pole. She kept hurling hot kisses of her cunt onto his cudgel, until he suddenly withdrew it entirely.
She was becoming addicted to his cock; he liked that.
"Keep fucking me!" she pleaded.
"Just taking a breather, honey. That prolongs the pleasure. Now brace yourself, baby, for some fast and furious balling."
She eyed him suspiciously and then smiled.
"I'm ready," she answered, her voice revealing her excitement. "John, how can physical love be so ... so intoxicating?"
"It's supposed to be," he answered. "It perpetuates the race."
"I'll always love you," she said, looking into his eyes, her own eyes feverish with passion.
"I'll always love you, gypsy," he said.
He braced his hands on either side of her body, in a French stance, and slid his cock upward in one swift, easy stroke that elicited a slurp when it parted the pink lips of her rosy cunt. Flexing his loins, he pumped her with exacting blows of his fat, unsated cock. Her body quivered with the force of his entries.
Her mouth hung limply, a trace of a smile on her delectable lips, a wild, consuming fire in her eyes, as he transported her to a level of ecstasy that paled the lesser joys of life.
Straining her body, gritting her teeth, she began to bounce her hips so that once again her lively, hot cunt was encasing his stiff, thick prick. It was also bathing his tool in a flowing effusion of pussy nectar that gave his prick its own distinctive sheen, a glossy pink.
He let her fuck him for a while, allowing the pleasure and sexual tension to mount.
Then, in a crushing display of passion, he threw his body against hers, grasping her shoulders as he humped her, overpowering her with his need. Her body stopped bucking up as she concentrated on absorbing and savoring his sexual savagery. He was like a crazed man. Her tight cunt became even tighter around the stick planted far up her belly. Her silky abdomen heaved with the fury of his hunching.
Her legs grasped for his hips but slipped sensuously on their own oil in a cascade of flesh.
He poked cock to her with terrific force now, sensing she was on the threshold of orgasm. Her hips began to quake. Her breath came in great gasps and her eyes closed.
"Ohhhhhhhhhhh!"
He gave her more raw, long, thick meat in a series of powerful stabs that curved high up her oiled, perfumed, caramel body, more beautiful be-cause it was in the throes of high-powered lovemaking.
He reveled in his own power and in her beauty. Her hands began to caress his nipples, pressing them hard.
His mouth ground passionately into the gaping round redness of hers as his stiff cock stretched it-self in the tightness of her warm cunt. Her oily smooth legs finally locked in a silky coil around his back, driving his stake of flesh farther up her wriggling body.
Freed of his hands, her large, exquisitely shaped breasts rolled from side to side.
Tensing his hips, he rode in and out of her with dramatic entries that flattened and teased her hard clit and with swift exits that left her cunt howling for more. She groaned aloud and her fingernails ripped into his shoulders as he fucked her harder. Her body twisted and he felt her orgasm rising. Digging his feet into the bed and lowering his muscular body, he pounded more prick into her, until her buttocks were mashed into pools of flesh against the mattress.
The thick fragrance of sex, mixed with the aromatic oils on their bodies, rose to his nostrils and goaded him into balling her with a ferocity that shook the bed. He couldn't get enough of this lovely, sexy gypsy he loved. Never enough.
He hammered and hammered into her, filling and stretching and plumbing the lovely, clinging, mysterious interior of her sweet tight vagina. His cock jammed and crammed into her. Their bodies made music, a savage music of the flesh, as they slapped together.
"Crush me ... fuck meee!" Rowena cried.
In her dark, alluringly bright eyes, he saw the unmistakable look of a woman possessed by the need to come. Her body, too, was in a high-pitched state of excitement.
His cock lurched eagerly into her willowy cunt, raised high and wet for him as her thighs and her hips shook with expectation.
He gorged her with every thick, full, throbbing inch of his prick. Her flesh engulfed his cock and smacked it and squeezed it and laid the perfume of her gushing cunt sap along it. She loved it, she wallowed in it.
On each thrust his cock slid solidly into the deep but tight cleft between her curvaceous thighs and plowed fully the soft, sweet, yielding flesh of her sap-running cunt.
Spurred on by her feline sighs, he bore into her spongy hole time after time, his body absorbing the shudders that ran the length of her delicious, naked form.
Her cute navel, swimming in the center of that shiny belly, winked as her flesh stretched and wrinkled with her body's responses to the hard poling it received. She began to writhe her long, sinuous body from head to toe as he fed her more cock, faster and faster.
His body banged against the slick, glistening wet rises of her thighs as his ardent cock repeatedly plugged her delectable mound. He stabbed into her roughly, wanting to prove his love with the intensity of his lovemaking.
Her eyes blazed with lust as tie probed deeper into the cellar of her pliant cunt. He felt like an explorer.
"John, oh John, you're so deep inside me! I love it."
"I love you."
"Screw me. Keep screwing me!"
The jarring rams of his cock, sinking deeper and deeper into her supple young pussy, kept her bolted to the bed as he unleashed his lust. He jam-packed her cunt with cock; he kept her plastered against the bed.
She coiled her arms around his neck and pulled herself up to him until her grape-shaped nipples poked against his chest and he fired cock into her. The sensation of those hard nipples, growing harder, slapping his chest as he bored into the fiery wetness of her cunt, was incredibly exciting.
He pounded more cock into her as her fits splashed pools of flesh against his chest. Again and again his cock rammed up her belly and sent shudders through her velvety body.
Panting, she molded her body to accept the fierce gorging of his cock. Her peach-like tits danced against his body, her firm, naked legs clutched his hips, her hands grasped him by the neck.
Hot, hot, hot, her emit spun up in a cup of drip-ping joy to blow a ring of ecstasy around his plum-meting dork. Her shapely thighs, corded with streaks of working muscles, glistened in a film of perspiration.
Voluptuously, she wiggled beneath him, her eyes closed, her head in a fan of dark hair as he laid cock to her. He was fucking her so hard he felt slightly dizzy, intoxicated with it all.
The long tongue of her clit licked helplessly against his stabbing prick. He kept whipping that clit, mashing it, rubbing it raw, driving her crazy.
The red-hot poker that was splitting open her juicy cunt barreled into her with lewd slurps.
As he balled her and felt her breasts heaving succulently against his body, he felt supreme joy. He knew she loved it. It was the purest, strongest, and, yes, most physical way he could show his love. It also vented his monumental lust for her enticing caramel body, so sleek, so well made for fucking.
The flaming hot tissue of her vagina doused the massive head of his cock in cunt flow. Numb with pleasure, he kept rocketing his cock up her gushing pussy.
Wanting more, she released her long legs from his hips and splayed them wider, so that each entry of his driving cock fully packed her cunt. He began to fuck her so brusquely that his balls seemed about to explode from their sweating bags, banging in the air.
She cried out in painful joy as he laid more thick red cock to her, stretching her cunt's walls.
She's still like a cherry!
His cock banged ferociously into her sleeve of flesh, as taut around his cock as sheer hosiery on a well-contoured leg.
He heard his own strange grunts as he slammed prick to her, each thrust of his cock burning a groove up her cunt.
Wet and slippery, her brown breasts billowed against him as he cocked her. She was all woman, smooth and trim and fragrant, accepting the brutal demands of the heavy spike that ripped into her time and again.
She lurched beneath him, her hot crack streaming cunt juice, her body drenched in sweat. Hard and unyielding, his cock kept flying up that wonderfully wet maw.
Slamming his crotch against her prominent pelvis, he drilled cock up her, pulling her thighs up with his hands in an attempt to stake even more of that delicious, dripping young pussy beneath him. With all his strength he fucked her.
The swelling hump of her cunt rode up over his cock in a juicy symphony. Her legs began to jerk wildly and her nails scratched into his neck.
Bobbing up and down, she sent the wet, caressing ring of her cherry-like cunt along his big cock to bang against his tortured balls. Her face wore a mask of pleasure.
Hunch after hunch, he clamped their fragrant bodies together, burying his gigantic tool in the haven between her legs. Lost in the swirling, sucking fury of lust, she fucked back with provocative thrusts of her brown body, her hips shuddering, the perfect balls of her tits springing up from her body.
Suddenly, her hands gripped him around the neck as she tightened her long legs around his back and pulled him in more and more, into the shimmering vortex of her womanhood. Cuntal muscles rapped at his pounding cock in fervent pulsations that sent delicious spasms up his loins. Her cunt was flooding, her muscles dancing in ecstasy against the hot mushroom of his swollen cock and down its flaming length.
In her balls-deep, he kept fucking until he knew his semen was a thick, hot lather boiling in the tubes of his bouncing scrotum.
She beat him to orgasm.
Her body rose and fell in convulsions of pleasure. She kept shouting his name. "John ... oh, John ... Johnny."
The violent burst of his come broke the tension of his hips. He eased down on her gorgeous body, relishing every moment of it as his pearly liquid seed flooded into her.
