"You've got to be kidding!" I told her. I pulled the phone away from my blushing ear and stared into it, trying to see what kind of a look she had on that sexy face of hers. I knew what she had on her mind. Dilly Brown wanted to live in sin with me. I stuck the phone back against my ear. It had cooled off now. "Go ahead. Say it again," I told her.
"... and, in a visible state of erection," she repeated.
"That's what I thought you said," I mumbled.
"And, don't forget-if you do, your goose is cooked. So!" I heard her laugh then, that gay, little tinkling that always heralded one of her mattress-busting sessions. "Eleven o'clock sharp. That gives you one hour. I'll knock, and you open the door. Quick! Just like that. I want to see all of you, Big John!"
She clicked off, and I just stood there like an idiot, holding the phone slackly, and seeing all my plans go Kaboom! down the drain.
The Big John had done it, though. I groaned as I visualized the yelling, screaming, idolizing women I'd have to barricade the door against. Mind you, I like my loving as well as the next guy, but I had made my plans. Now she had unmade them. You know, though, I had a sneaky feeling that I'd be able to live through it; in fact, I knew damn well I'd have a ball!
My growl changed to a little humming purr as I lay the phone down softly. I padded the the short distance across my little cook-in apartment to the large picture-window that faced the rear yard, the asphalted parking strip, and that lovely, lovely sorority house just on the other side. Modest me (but not for long, I knew), I hitched the old blue terry-cloth robe a cinch tighter around my muscular waist-well, it was still fairly flat, anyway.
I hummed a happy little tune, now, as I waited. No, not for Dilly, not yet. So far, I had been in this apartment, in this college town of Busby, exactly two hours, and after I'd thrown what little gear I had on the bed, I'd spotted what I was waiting for now and had spent the next hour and a half girl watching and making plans.
Yes, indeed. There she was, just doffing the filmy blouse she'd left the house with just before Dilly called. Her window, and that of three other girls in the room, was right opposite mine, possibly fifty feet away-too long for a leap, but I was considering the possibility.
The blouse had too many buttons. I could see that-nine of the damned things, to be exact. Finally, she swept the blouse clear off those creamy, rounded shoulders and tossed it onto the bed. Her back was still toward me, and, eagle-eye me, I could count every blessed, lovely vertabrae-and a lovelier, soft-pink birthmark, heart-shaped, visible now as she swept the skirt and baby-blue scanties off with one practiced motion.
My heart thumped, and so, too, did the front of my bathrobe. Big John was at it, again. Oh yes, perhaps I forgot to mention (sheer modesty, I'm sure), I'm not really so very large, about medium-five-nine, one-fifty, twenty-two years old, brown hair, honest blue eyes, fine teeth, tonsils out years ago, and a fair (well almost) amount of muscles, and-Big John. That's where the medium stopped. That's why Dilly was hot after me. Oh well, all of us have handicaps of one type or another: some lame, some blind, some stupid, some with big ears or flat feet or a horrendous mother-in-law. Me, I had Big John.
Cutie-pie, across the way, chose just that moment to whirl around. I swear she must have felt Big John's horny, hungry eyes just boring right through her saucy behind.
Eighteen, maybe, a big, fluffy beehive of platinum-dyed hair, wide "O's" for eyes, sweet young breasts, poking impatiently at the skimpy bra, and from there on down to her saddle shoes nothing but bare skin, a narrow band of white around the strategic area, and the rest of it golden brown. I noticed too, before I dropped my eyes in modesty, that she was not a natural platinum blonde-just blonde.
She looked me right in the eye then, and for a moment I thought she was going to scream. I followed the shift of her eyeballs down and when they rolled out of sight, then jerked back up again, I felt Big John bulge with impatience. He prodded and poked at the front of the robe until I thought he'd tear right through and out the window.
She saw him all right, or the evidence thereof. The angry look on her face changed to one of joy, expectation. She waved gaily to me and then went through the motions of ripping off a bathrobe, pointing excitedly to me as she finished. I hesitated, she was young and I didn't want to shock her. I mean-well, you know how it is.
She became impatient and slipped off her bra, then cupped in offering to me two of the loveliest cream-white, rosy-tipped bundles of joy I'd seen in ages.
I yielded.
I unveiled Big John.
I sailed the robe onto the bed and let him stand out, huge and quivering with impatience, in all his naked glory.
She fainted dead away, slipping out of sight beneath the sill just as there was a sharp knock on my door. I shot a quick look at the clock-nine-fifty. The time had flown a lot quicker than I had imagined. Well, that's how it is when you keep busy.
I padded back through the apartment, steering myself carefully. The knock sounded again, brusquely.
"Patience, patience," I murmured.
I opened the door with a wide sweep and stood there, hands on hips and legs wide apart, a modest little smile on my face.
"Dilly!" I shouted, and held out my arms.
It wasn't Dilly.
"Mon Dieu!" she said.
And he exclaimed, with a kiss of his hands to his lips, "Magnifique!"
I know I turned all shades of red, and I tried to shut the door.
A gold-slippered foot shot out and held it open. "No, you don't. I'm not letting something like this get away," she said. Her voice was husky and dark. It spoke of bedrooms and silken sheets, and whispered kisses-and more.
She was a big girl-tall, big-breasted, flaring of hip and noble of thigh. The gold-colored housecoat, open deep at the neck, gaped wonderfully as she leaned slightly toward me. The heavy globes of her breasts spilled forth like pearly pears and such as never were seen at any county fair. Her hair was jet-black and long, framing just right her aquiline features.
"I am Camille," she said, "and this is my husband Pierre. We are the Bampfhs, and live in 3-B, just down the hall."
"Well, ah. Hi!" trying to shut the door just a little. I could have retreated inside, grabbed at my robe, anything, but for the moment, I was still too stunned.
Pierre took over now. He was a short, dapper fellow, very French looking, dark, waxed mustache and all. He waved away my modesty.
"You do not hide something like that," eyeing my middle.
"You can say that again," I said.
He laughed, a silken little chuckle. "I am called Lucky Pierre. You know all those American jokes about such a man?"
I nodded.
His face took on a mournful expression. 'They are all lies, Monsieur. I am really so very, very unlucky."
I smiled sympathetically, then nearly jumped straight thru the roof. Camille had, unnoticed to me, extended a soft, gloved hand and begun to stroke Big John. He reared right up and began to nuzzle her palm. She murmured contentedly and continued her stroking.
"Hold it!" I backed off. "It's reserved-for now."
"Ah!" Her eyes lighted up. "Your wife-a fortunate woman," she sighed.
Pierre licked his lips and patted her noble tail, "Ha! You are not so unlucky, my dear. There are ways, as you should know." Then he took her arm. "Come. We must go. We will see more of you, Monsieur?"
"Impossible," I muttered.
He laughed. 'We are foreign students at the university. We are teachers at home, in France. But we are learning here. Are we not, my dear?"
She patted Big John and sighed. "Au re-voir." She looked at the plate on the door. "John Doe?"
I nodded. Big John nodded.
I watched her lovely buttocks swing and sway out of sight. It looked promising, very promising, for what Dilly had in mind. More and more I was beginning to admire the girl.
Quickly, I shut the door. My luck might not be so good the next time. And, meanwhile, back at the picture-window all hell had broken loose. The blonde was back on her feet, and not alone. There must have been at least a dozen girls-lovely, young, and in varying stages of undress-all trying to see out the window at once.
They saw me pad into sight, like a man-of-war coming over the horizon. One of them, a luscious peach, stark naked and with boobs like heavy grapefruits, stood up on the sill, boosted playfully by the others, and covered those tremendous melons with a hastily scrawled sign.
"PAJAMA PARTY TONIGHT. 12 O'CLOCK. HOW ABOUT IT?"
They were kidding. They had to be. A girls' sorority house? Under-graduates? Young, so young, tender, naked, willing?
Naturally, there was a tap at the door-discreet, not too loud. That's my girl. Don't alarm the neighbors. I held up a wait finger to the girls and hotfooted it to the door.
"Dilly!" I threw it open.
She was lean, tall, built along racehorse fines-almost. Sleek blonde hair, rather hawk-like nose, and a predatory mouth. Twin, sharp beauties, I swear that aimed at me six inches straight away from the rest of her; the tiniest waist imaginable, and sweet lissome thighs tapering quickly to a pair of smooth, flowing calves.
He was just behind her-rather rough-looking fellow, turtle-necked sweater, ruddy face, and a hellish, mischevious twinkle in his black eyes.
"3-C?" I asked weakly.
She tittered, "You've been peeking."
"Harold Chance; wife, Hortense-old chap." He shoved forward and held out his hand. I shook it feebly.
He bent over and whispered in my ear. "Quite a weapon, lad." He dug me in the gut with his elbow, and, pointing at Big John, said to Hortense: "Would you like to have a go at that, old girl?"
Before 10:05 there were two more couples pounding at the door. I'd gotten rather blase about it by then and just sort of leaned casual-like against the door-jamb, carrying on a perfectly normal conversation. I mean, after all, they were all perfect strangers, and decent, friendly people. Coffee-klatch or some such get together was on for later tonight. I hoped it wasn't too much later. I'd accepted the pajama-party invitation. The coffee-klatch was with wife, of course, but not the pajama party. There was a slight drawback-I wasn't married, but I knew if Dilly had her way that would be no obstacle.
Ten-thirty sharp brought a pounding on the door that was enough to awaken the dead. This had to be it, although I swear she surely had to have put on some muscle since I last saw her to make such a racket.
She had-at least a hundred pounds, and needed a shave badly.
"Moving man?" I gasped weakly.
"I sure as hell ain't Santa Claus!" There he stood, or rather, crouched, loaded with suitcases and boxes enough for an army. His face was red with strain and wet with sweat. "Well, don't just stand there with your ... bare face hanging out," he snickered, "open the door full. I got a load here." His eyes centered on Big John and shot upward. "You ain't doin' so bad yourself, chum."
"Thanks," ' I muttered, yanking off the top layer of his load and then kicking open the door.
We had him in and out in a few seconds, then he was back again-this time, loaded as much, but trailed by a grinning Dilly.
She tipped him and shoved him out. He protested, eyeing the two of us. "Aw, I wanted to watch."
"No tickets, buster," and I shut the door on him. I leaned against the door and surveyed the huge mess of stuff piled all about the room-and Dilly.
A treat she was. The original corn-fed lass from Iowa. Not a small girl, tall as I, weighed one-thirty, and, all in just the right places. My eyes swept hungrily over the silky, blonde hair, the snapping blue eyes, apple cheeks, saucy mouth, the pink tongue licking at the lips, and on down quickly to where the real business started.
Tits? Never seen, or tasted, any quite like them. Right now she wore a simple white cotton blouse with the top two buttons undone. Her twin forty-two's bulged out like El Capitan, twice over. She was braless, as usual, and the pokey nipples bugged out like little carrots, a lot more tasty, though. Slim-waisted, the old-fashioned hour-glass type, and no girdles to pinch it in with, either. I knew.
But the thing that really got me going about Dilly was that tail of hers. That was my first view of her, walking down the main drag of Harlan. She had a movement all of her own. I swear she must move on ball-bearings, swinging in and out, back and forth, the sweet, luscious, heavenly rounded curves of firm, and, oh, so smooth, satiny skin.
"Darling," she breathed at me, her breath sweet as sugar. "I've missed you, both of you."
She kissed me then-"like candy her lips-and her tongue, hot and slithery, swollen with promise, burrowed its way in, setting my toenails afire.
"Love," I whispered. "You rat." I mashed her against me and ran my hands down her back and down to the promised land. I dug my fingers into her firm flesh and pressed her against me.
"Shh," she whispered back. She pulled back, then lowered her head and kissed my chin, and bit at the fuzz on my chest. Down, licking at my navel, then brushing her flushed face and lovely soft hair over my shivering skin.
"Big John," she murmured. "It's been so long. It is so long," she giggled.
She kissed me, and it was the Fourth of July all over. Skyrockets burst in my brain and my legs turned to jelly. I twined by shaking fingers in her hair and moved her back and forth gently, bending my head to watch. She knew I would. She knew I liked to watch her. She raised her head, still holding me the willing prisoner, and winked at me. She nibbled with her lips, bit little nips with her pearly teeth, and wrapped her tongue over and around.
Her eyes moved lazily past me, and out through the window. Then they widened in great, big O's. I could feel her movement stop. Big John reared with impatience, and I tugged at her silken hair. Her eyes swung back to me and I groaned. I was sure I knew what she had seen, and that she would be as mad as all get-out.
A last little nip and she was up, and on her feet-facing the window.
"I'll pull the drape," I muttered hoarsely, stumbling past her.
She grabbed me where it counted, and held me tight.
"Uh-uh," she said, a delighted little twinkle in her voice.
"You mean you're not mad, or whatever, about them." I pointed to the sorority windows where the girls were all but hanging from the light fixtures.
"Not one cotton-pickin' bit," she said. "Anytime, anywhere-you know me, Johnny-boy." She waved to the girls and laughed. Then over to the bed she went, pushing, but easily, some of her stuff onto the floor. She patted the spot beside her, and I loped over, all eager to go at her again, or vice-versa.
I filled my hands with her taut, hard-nip-pled breasts and nuzzled my head into the bulging cleavage.
She squirmed and moaned and roamed her hands down onto Big John. But then, quick as a wink, she stopped and pushed me away-in fact pushed me down flat on my back. Then she moved a bit, squatting now on the bed. She brushed her long, soft hair over my chest and stomach and finally ... finally ... Cripes! Would she ever stop teasing me? I groaned and thrust my hips up at her.
I could see her, and I could see the girls across the way watching us. I waved feebly to them, and for a wild moment I thought they would go ape the way they jumped and waved and shouted. Never have I seen so much bouncing, naked, willing flesh.
"Well?" Her big blue eyes snapped brightly at me and her little fist, hot and moist, closed softly and tenderly around Big John's head.
"Well, what?" I croaked.
"Is it a deal?" She squeezed hard, then blew a soft breath downward, all the time looking deep into my glazed eyeballs with her own teasing, questioning ones. I nodded.
She lowered her head and began.
CHAPTER TWO
Harlan, out in the tall-corn country, is chiefly known for two things. One, what else but corn? Thousands upon thousands of acres of the damned stuff. That's all anybody ever thought of, heard about, talked about-well, almost. It was in the off-season that the other came into its prime. The whole area is lousy with farms and farmers ... and farmer's daughters, and to keep up with the competition, or even get anywhere at all, the town-girls had to fight tooth and nail.
When a stranger walked into Harlan, he could sense it immediately. The smell of sex, corn-fed and bursting to the ears, was everywhere in the air. The winters were cold-frigid, in fact, but that was outdoors, in the sleet-covered streets and the snow-drifted walks and yards and fields. Inside, where the lights were bright, the fires blazing, and the beds soft and warm, that's where the action was.
That's where I was at the tender age of fifteen. My parents had had their final argument, separated, and shipped me off, out from the wicked East, to Harlan, and second-Aunt Claudie. She owned the town's only drugstore, and we, just the two of us, lived on the floor above.
The first thing she did was get me settled in the house, in the living room on the couch. She had the only bedroom in the small apartment. My parents had thought Uncle Charley was to be there, also, but he had flown the coop for better pastures several weeks before. Claudie, painfully sensitive about what the relatives might think, had mentioned it to no one back east. The people in town couldn't care less. Besides, she had the reputation (totally undeserved, I was to find out) of being rather a prim and staid young woman, not won't to wander or dally where she shouldn't.
It was a great act she put on that first night, for awhile. I'd pulled into Harlan about six. She'd shut up the store and there we were, alone in the apartment. We'd eaten supper and now sat in the living room. She kept watching me closely, looking at me with her eyes half-shut. And she kept licking her lips in the damnedest way.
"Shall we watch TV, Aunt Claudie?" I asked her. I felt as if I had to do something. I wasn't really a Boob-Tube fan, but it was something to do.
She didn't say a word. She just marched over to the TV, and pulled the plug. When she bent over, the twin spheres of her buttocks wiggled and waggled in the most delightful way. I could see through the tight, thin skirt the line of her panties. The skirt was tight and short, and an inch or so of gleaming white flesh was visible above the tops of her stockings.
Immediately, I wondered what she looked like even further up. The thought brought the reaction I'd hoped to avoid, and I laid my hands quickly in my lap.
She turned slowly, just as I did that, and her eyes crawled right under my hands. She walked toward me with a sort of a slithery walk, then stopped right in front of me.
"It's lonesome around here without a man, Johnny," she crooned.
I gulped, running my eyes up and down her lush figure. She was only in her mid-twenties and had the body of a burlesque queen. The clothes she wore usually did their futile best to hide it, but it was a hopeless case.
I nodded, and gulped again, my face red as fire.
"I'm glad you're here, Johnny." Her fingers feathered her body, then stole up to the buttons of her blouse.
"I need a man!" she hissed, her eyes mere slits and her tongue now slithering all around her lips.
"I ain't a man!" I croaked. "I'm only a fifteen-year-old kid, and...."
She unbuttoned the blouse quickly and tossed it over my head. The soft, silky feeling and the smell of perfume drove me wild. I tore it off just as she followed up with the bra.
"And you're a virgin, aren't you?" Her voice rippled with excitement and she had the skirt and half-slip off in no time.
She moved up against my legs and touched her knees against mine. "Take a good look, kid," she said. She put her hands under her swaying breasts, and, cupping them, thrust them into my face. She rubbed the hot, smooth hard-tipped bundles of joy across my lips.
"Suck them!"
I did, and experienced a sensation beyond my wildest dreams. She did, too, I gathered, from the moaning and quivering she did.
"Oh, that's so good." She was all over me now, shoving her tits, first one, then the other into my willing mouth. She lay full weight on me for a long, delicious, hot moment, then slithered slowly off and back onto her feet. "Stand up!"
I gasped, and tried to cross my legs. "But ... you'll see ... ," I gasped.
"Exactly." She pulled me up with a hard yank and then stood back to look at me closely. "If it's as big as it looks right now, you're the biggest man I've ever known. Take off your clothes, every blessed stitch."
"Aww...." How could I do that?
"Now!"
I gulped again, but in a moment was down to my shorts, the front of them spronging out like I had a miniature telephone pole in them.
"Off!" She snapped her fingers, and wet her lips.
I slipped them off, kicked them out of the way and stood there in my naked glory.
"Big John," she murmured. "Incredible. Why it must be at least She bent and filled both hands. "And there's more yet." Wonder filled her eyes, and then she licked me with her hot, wet tongue.
It happened-just as I knew it would.
Big John bucked, spewed out his Niagara, and like to drowned her. She gasped, choked, and fell back on her seat.
"I'm sorry," I muttered. "I couldn't help it."
"I know," she said. "But it's only the beginning, isn't it?"
I nodded, and watched her sweet tail quiver its way into the bathroom.
It was only the beginning. My anatomy course (female, of course) began in earnest.
She returned from the bathroom minus her panties, and when I spotted that black, curling bush Big John reared right up and readied for action.
The words vagina and clitoris were added to my vocabulary, with definitive variations never mentioned by any dictionary, I'm sure. Vaginal penetration was an old term to her, she said, but she told me later it was the first time she'd ever had a tonsilectomy at the same time.
When the morning sun peeped through the windows and spread his blushing rays over us, I knew I was a man. Here she was, nearly twice as old, and one of the "stronger sex," and flat on her back on the rug. She had a silly grin on her face and her eyes were shut, and she kept moaning softly, "Stud ... stud ... stud."
I hopped over her, for at least the tenth time, ready to go.
"Oh, my God, no. I can't take any more tonight." She rolled away and curled up into a helpless, little ball.
Still, she wouldn't let me out of the house for a week and only had the store open half a day each day. She was radiant and rosy-cheeked down there behind the counter, and when asked about it, simply giggled, and said, "I've found the Fountain of Youth."
I stayed with Aunt Claudie until I was eighteen, working in the store, going to school, and keeping her happy and purring all through the long, dark, and cold winters. Every trick in the book I learned from her, but time went on. It was time for post-graduate work.
Enter Dilly.
Age fourteen.
Entirely precocious.
I had a week to go before Uncle Sam would put his hot, little hands on me. Claudie needed a replacement for me ... in the store ... and Dilly applied for the job.
She was a beautiful kid, a bit smaller than she is now, but not much. When she walked through that door and I saw that doll-face, mammoth mammaries, and swinging hips, that was it.
Big John reared up and bulged like a ball bat.
I let him. Modesty had little part in my life any more.
"Is it real?" she asked. "Or am I in a hardware store?" She grinned hugely, and demonstrated her precosity. Taking my arm, she waltzed me to the back room. She had my pants unzipped and Big John out in the cold before the door could close.
"Love," she said, and pulled up her skirt. She wore no pants and I could feel her soft, fleecy fuzz tickle Big John's head as she wriggled and squirmed up a head of steam.
Then she stood on her toes, wiggled a bit, and slowly, luxuriously, settled down on me.
I grasped her full buttocks and thrust in deep. The warm, wet walls of her flesh closed tight and grasped me with a clenching, grabbing motion all of their own.
She whispered in my ear as she slithered back and forth.
"What?" I was shocked.
"You heard me." Her honey-sweet lips pressed against mine and her sugary tongue slid deep into the back of my mouth.
When I could, I pulled away, just an inch, all the time, of course, pumping and prodding down below. "I've never done it," I stuttered, "Claudie tried to get me to, just once, but ... well, I just couldn't."
She slithered away from me and leaned against the walls with blazing eyes.
"You think you're a man?" she hissed.
Big John nodded. I nodded.
"You're in Harlan, Buster. Out in the tall corn country, where girls are girls, and the men are just the way the girls want them to be! Now! Her big eyes shone with an unholy luster that set my innards afire. "Eat it!" She lifted her skirt again, up past the full, sun-browned thighs, and the nest of golden, glistening fuzz.
I nodded weakly and fell to my knees.
"Crawl over here-into the promised land," she giggled, triumphant now that I was at her mercy.
I did and she swung her hips out toward me. My hands stole up the silky and now trembling flesh. I crouched even more and then lifted my head. She spread her legs and then placed one over my shoulder. I could see her eyes were closed and her hips twitching in anticipation.
I gulped as she lowered herself and covered me with the sweet, wonderfully scented girl-flesh. My hands thrust through and dug into the shaking curves of her behind. Then, I shut my eyes and did what comes naturally, my eager tongue slipping, slapping, and tasting in a brand new sensation.
"You're a man, now," I heard her soft voice say.
"Mmm," I mumbled, as well as I could. The tip of my tongue furrowed in like a hot, humming bee and slapped, rat-tat-tat, against the sharp little nubbin of her clitoris. She shrieked and grabbed my hair. Back and forth she sawed me, faster and faster, until finally the explosion rocked her right over on top of me. We hit the floor with a thud, she on the bottom.
Stealthily, I parted her legs, listened to her murmured objections, and chuckled as she spread her legs wide and ground herself against me. I thrust into the soft, nut core of her and moved slowly around in tantalizing inches, and up and down with deliberate, maddening slowness.
Her eyes shot open. "Go! Go! Go!" she shouted.
I did, and, keyed up the way I was, it was over with a bang. With a last, bucking flurry, I drove home and up to the hilt. She gasped and fainted dead away. Big John snorted and spurted and swelled like a balloon, then slowly, he collapsed, delightfully. I lay atop her, savoring the feel and the warmth of her sweet, young body.
And, here we were again-four long years later. I was older, wiser, four years of the army behind me, and the promise of an exciting, full life ahead of me.
Dilly had changed but slightly. She, too, was older and wiser, but otherwise the few pounds and inches added had only enhanced the basic beauty of her. The fire in her eyes and the one-track mind were, if possible, even more intense than ever before.
"That's enough," she said. Then, with a last, parting kiss, she moved up on me, raised her delightful fanny and settled down to work.
Her eyes shut tight, and her hands clawed into my shoulders as she slid up and down. Then she scrooched forward a bit more and brushed my face with her huge breasts.
"Oh, kiss them, love!" She thrust a taut, cherry nipple into my open mouth and mashed the silky, soft balloon of flesh hard against me. I sucked at the puckered stem, and twirled and tugged with my tongue and lips while she writhed and squirmed her belly and groin against me.
"The other!" she panted. I came up for air, just for a second. She rubbed both breasts back and forth over my face. The turgid nipples bent and snapped back each time she trailed off down my cheeks.
Her hips churned wildly and I answered her, thrust for thrust. The other breast jammed into my mouth and she fell full length on me. My hands flew down from her breasts and dug into the hot skin of her buttocks. Faster and faster we went, until we both exploded in a wild and frenzied paroxysm of flailing hips and legs.
"Aragh!" She rose for a shivering instant, then collapsed atop me.
We drifted and dreamed-soft, drowsy clouds in a warm, sunny sky. Not a care in the world-replete.
Then, over her shoulder I could see the girls in the sorority house. To a woman, they were hopping about like wild, little grasshoppers, applauding and clapping their hands in glee. They saw me watching them, and one of them disappeared for an instant. Then she was back with a new sign, written in huge, bold, red-lipsticked letters!
"Don't YOU DARE FORGET!"
I chuckled, and, with what little strength I had left, waved to them.
Dilly caught the movement. "What's that for?" She turned, and then saw the sign herself.
"Hmm." She pursed her lips, eyed the girls speculatively, then said, "We'll see, and if there's any left. Now-" and she rolled off with a lithe flip. She sat up beside me, and jabbed my poor, tired belly with her index finger.
"Oof!"
"Number one. You know what you don't get if you don't cooperate, or if this caper just doesn't come off."
I groaned. 'Ten thousand bucks."
"Don't complain. You don't deserve it anyway ... you low-life." She lifted Big John tentatively. "Hmm, he is low."
"Give him a minute."
"More than that. We've got work to do." She jabbed me again. "Number two. We're man and wife-Mr. and Mrs. John Doe, right?"
I nodded.
"Number three-and, the most important of all ... SWAPSIES!" She yelled it right in my ear.
When the ringing stopped, I asked her, "How come, anyway? Isn't Big John enough for you?
She grinned, and fondled him with loving hands. "Yes, and no. I just like variety. That's all there is to it. Something different, something strange really turns me on. How about you?"
She raised her eyebrows toward the window, then thumbed her nose at the sorority girls who were still cavorting wildly about.
She was right. I felt just the same.
"You got a date with them tonight?" She punched me lightly in my sore belly.
"Yup. So what?" What the hell. I wasn't really married to her. I could do whatever I damn well pleased-I thought.
"So what, this. As respectable married people we just can't have you whorin' around with other women."
"It's not whorin'. I'm paying for nothing!" I snapped.
She leaned way over and swung her pendulous breasts across my lips. "Honey, honey, don't be snappy. You can do as well as you damn well please-as long as it isn't too pub-he. I expect I might find something interesting around here myself. Just you watch it, though!" she teased, giving Big John a healthy shake.
"What the hell did Claudie have to leave me all that dough for anyway?" I muttered.
"It's a lot of money, and, remember, according to her will all you have to do is attend college for exactly one full year-no less. If you get kicked out-that's it."
"I think I'll go live in a dormitory."
"You know you can't," she laughed. "You have to be under twenty-one."
"I'll go to another state, another college," I said hopefully.
She really laughed now. "With your high-school grades? This is the only college in-in the world, I expect, that would ever let you in."
She had me there. My high-school diploma was a gift-for attendance only. Not that I'm really stupid, mind you. I just didn't do a cotton-picking thing while in high school-except chase girls and get into trouble. Maybe there was something else she didn't know about, though.
"I'll just live in a hotel."
"On what? Your good looks. Nope, that's it, pal. This is a college-town, and all the places are all sewed up. By the way, how did you ever get this one?"
I stared at her, shocked. "You mean, I know something about all this that you don't know?"
Her eyes narrowed in thought and determination. "I'll find out."
"Don't bother. As long as we're one big happy family you might as well know. A year ago I applied through the college for a place. I filled out the paper wrong. They thought I was married. Boom-last month, they notified me I had reached the top of the waiting list."
"And here you-we-are, married." She grinned a wicked, wicked smile.
"Well, if we keep our noses clean, and don't get caught, I'll make it."
She wrinkled her nose. "I'm not so sure about that first part. You remember what I told you." Then she fixed her eyes on me, a steely glint in them I hadn't seen before.
"But I don't know anybody here." I spread my hands helplessly. Then a quick flash of embarrassment and remembrance flooded my face. She didn't miss a bit of it. Her eyebrows shot up.
"Give, Buster. I don't know how you could have been up to very much since you got here what with the girls," waving smilingly to them once more, "and me, but if anybody or thing, could draw the right sort of people, old Big John here could sure do it."
CHAPTER THREE
"Koffee-klatch time!" she shook me out of dreamland like an old rag.
I sputtered in protest and rolled over again. It had taken us all day to set the apartment in order and get it as clean and gay as she wished. How the hell she kept at it I don't know, but once I lay back on the bed for just an eyewink of sleep I was gone.
She jostled my shoulder. "Let's go, hubby." She snickered then, and with a faked, sexy voice, she said, "How do I look baby?"
That got me. I rolled over, and gave her the once-over.
"Wow!"
She looked at me puzzled. "Is that a compliment, or what?"
"If you step through that door you'll be arrested for indecent exposure."
"I want to make an impression," she spun in front of me, and preened herself in the full-length mirror.
"You will." I placed my elbows on my knees, cupped my hands under my chin, and just stared at her dreamily.
Her dress, a skimpy, very tight, shimmering green thing, reached at least a third of the way to her knees. I swear, when she just stood naturally, the golden tint of her yellow fuzz sparkled right out, and what it would do when she sat down was wide open to conjecture.
Her white, creamy shoulders were bare, and so, too, was most of her breast. It spilled out in two wonderful, great bulges out of the very, very low scoop-neck dress.
"I'll bet I could hold all that dress in one fist and have not one bit hang out," I said.
"You like it then," she grinned. "I'm so glad. I do want to make a good impression on our neighbors."
"Oh, you will. You will." I could just see Pierre and Harold and the others fawning in attendance on her. It should be quite a night!
3-B's door was open wide. A blare of jazz music, a gay hub-bub of voices, and a delightful click of glasses wafted out.
Camille met us at the door. She looked as chic as her name implied, tastefully dressed, bouffant hair, and a string of beautiful pearls enhancing the deep swell of her breast. She took to Dilly immediately, ushering her into the room with a friendly, even intimate hand, tucked in under Dilly's arm.
I growled and walked in behind them. Camille winked at me and put her other hand in mine.
"I have not forgotten you, Johnny. How could one do that, eh?" Her black eyes sparkled across the front of my pants. Then she steered us into the crowd, into the center of the room. She let go of us and clapped her hands. The noise, the talking, laughing, jostling, ceased not one iota. She clapped again, frowning. Same result.
"You want to see them shut up their mouths-and just open their eyes?" she whispered, and loudly, to me. Without waiting for an answer, she scooted a straight chair from the wall and placed it between us. Then, lithely, and with a flash of shimmering, nyloned leg, she stood on the chair.
Her hands went to the hem of her skirt and lifted it slowly, past the top of her stockings, revealing the white flesh above, then zipped it clear up to her waist.
She began to weave her pantie-clad hips in go-go fashion, one hand now holding the dress up, the other feathering her hips and sliding down between her legs. Her fingers prodded slyly at the dark mound visible through the panties.
Silence fell over the room like a great, soft blanket. Glasses stopped inches away from parted lips. Someone cleared his throat narrowly.
She stopped and let her dress slither back down.
"So," talking to everyone, 'This is the one way to get attention in America. Good." Then she winked. "I must try it in class some day!"
Everyone roared, that is, all but one couple. They stared around at all the gay faces with frosty eyes, then back at her with disgust. They set their glasses down with a loud clink and stalked out of the room without a word.
Camille followed them with blazing eyes, then she turned back to the others. She smiled. "Just as well. How you call them? Party-poppers?"
"Poopers," someone supplied with a giggle.
"We have two new ones tonight," said Camille. She placed a hand on each of our shoulders. "Mr. and Mrs. John Doe."
Applause from all. We beamed at them. Dilly sticking out her chest like a huge pouter-pigeon.
"Some of you," she winked broadly, "have seen more of John than you do at this very moment."
A woman guffawed. It was Hortense Chance, the English girl. Her husband, Harold, well-stewed by this time, jabbed her slyly in the ribs and whispered to her. She grinned widely and nodded.
"And this one is a....How you call it?" She ruffled Dilly's hair.
"She's a dilly, all right!" from Harold.
"Bullseye," Dilly murmured.
"So!" Camille clapped her hands. "Let's all have fun, ha?" She hopped down beside me, and the others clustered around, talking and drinking once more.
"The people who left, the Dennings. I am not so sure, a mistake?" Camille asked Pierre who stood beaming at the three of us.
He shrugged, "Bah!" His eyes travelled hungrily over Dilly. I could swear I heard her purring now.
Harold shoved a highball in my hand. "Coffee, mate?" an innocent grin on his face.
"Don't mind if I do." I swilled it down, and then the Fourth of July began all over. He patted my heaving back as I choked and sputtered.
"Tasty, mate?" Same innocent grin.
"What the hell is it?" I gasped. "Embalming fluid, with just a touch of prussic acid?"
"Tosh, lad." His face showed disappointment. "My concoction-a jugger of rum, two of tequilla, well-laced with prime vodka, and, the topper, a lacing with tabasco." His face looked guileless as he grinned, waiting perhaps for a compliment.
"Great, simply great, Harold." I patted him on the back. "Now where the hell is the bottle of vodka? That I can take. I'm not in training for this-this-other stuff." Words failed me.
"Over here, lad, gangway!" He brushed through the gabbing couples. Dilly was in good hands. I could see that. Every man in the place, except Harold and me, was hanging around, like bees after honey.
Harold steered me to a table in the kitchen and filled a half water glass of vodka for me-and the same for himself.
"Cheers," he lifted it, and tossed it off like water. "Not too bad," he looked at the empty glass in approval. He flipped himself on the table and, obviously, was all whetted up for a little chat now. I had hoped to mix more with the others, especially the females, but I liked his breezy, off-hand manner.
He wagged a finger at me. "You want to watch the bloody Dennings. Damn sneaky pair, the both." He ran his finger across his throat and made a sharp, rasping sound. "Just like that."
"Thanks." I took a good swallow out of the glass.
"Tell me about yourself, lad." Lad? I doubted if he was a day over twenty-five himself. Still, there was no condescension in his voice-probably just his way of talking.
"Oh, nothing much. Four years in the goddamn army, then here-first year of college. Hope I'll last out the year." You bet I hoped!
"That's it?" His forehead wrinkled in disappointment. "Well, what about you and the missus? Married long?" He dug his shoe playfully into my shin. "You sly, old dog. She's a dilly. Ha! You did say her name was Dilly, too. Right?"
"Right." What the hell was I going to tell him? What was Dilly going to tell the others? I groaned. Better throw the ball right back. "How about you, Harold. English, aren't you?" I remarked brightly.
He was a comedian, I found out. He put his index fingers into the outer corners of his eyes and pulled. "You bloody ass. I'm a goddamn chink. Can't you see?" I stared at him perplexed and he slapped his thighs in glee. "No offence, lad. Righto. Hortie and me is grad students. King's English and all the rot." He winked slightly.
"Party-time?" I suggested. After all, it was a party, and I'd seen some mighty choice flesh back in the other room. I knew I should save myself for the pajama party, but Big John had never failed me yet.
He filled my glass and we walked back out to the others. "I'll stick to my Devil's Brew," he said.
I choked on the first swallow of vodka. Dilly was completely surrounded by a group of jostling, shouting men. I ran forward and opened a slight wedge. I gasped and tried to squirm through.
She was stark naked, her back to me at the moment. I dove and thrashed, but got nowhere.
"Help me!" I shouted to Harold. I clawed at the men, but they didn't budge.
"Help, hell," said Harold. He wriggled and squirmed with amazing agility, right up to the front. Dilly turned around at that moment, and the sight of that flawless, white skin, her huge, out-thrust breasts, and the golden fuzz nestled in the apex of her lush thighs was almost too much for me.
"Dilly!" I shouted. "I'll save you!"
The little smile on her face broadened. "Hi, John." She waved to me. "Who wants to be saved?" She wriggled sexily and turned to buddy Harold, who with a lecherous grin held out his cupped hands for her breasts. I turned away disconsolate as I saw her surge them into his hands.
"Do not be alarmed." I heard a soft, feminine voice whisper in my ear. I spun around and looked straight at the mouth of a black goddess. My eyes flicked up, and up, past the hawk-like nose, with wide, flaring nostrils, and the eyes, set far apart, and burning darkly, with some inner fire. She seemed at least a foot taller than I, what with the red satin high-heels she wore.
"I am Lura Umyah." Her voice was heavy and deep, almost man-like, but there was nothing man-like about the rest of her. She was swathed in a multi-colored robe, one shoulder bare down to the dusky slope of her breast. The swell of hips and buttocks was masked but slightly by the voluminous robe.
"African?"
She nodded, and smiled, white teeth sparkling pearl-like in the dark face.
"Lura Umyah." She took my hand and led me away. Her hand was warm and soft like any woman's, but I sensed the power latent in the long, curling fingers.
The rest of the women were in the next room--waiting, it seemed. Each had an expectant look on her face, and the same sloe-eyed look. I felt my pulse race, and my hand shook in hers. Camille and Hortense sat perched on a sofa, legs crossed, but not too demurely.
Mary Fong was the other woman. I had met her earlier in the day when I was gaily throwing open the door in hope of Dilly. At the time, her reaction and that of her husband, Sam, had been rather puzzling. They weren't displeased in the least. In fact, they had displayed the usual Oriental inscrutable features. Sam's moon-face had never left my eyes-sort of a stare-down. He won. I was too embarrassed to hold his gaze. And Mary, she had simply flicked from my eyes, to Sam, and back again. I could have been wearing a full-dress suit for all it mattered. They introduced themselves, welcomed me to the apartment, then left without a word.
Lura placed both hands on my hips and lifted me clear off the floor, right in front of the three seated women. I struggled-ineffectively. She had a grip of steel. She whispered to me. "You will enjoy this. Please don't fight me." I relaxed while she held me dangling, mashed against her warm body. I swear I could feel her nipples harden and drill into the back of my shirt.
Hortie took over. She patted the sofa beside her, and Mary slid softly out of her chair. She glided cat-like to the sofa and sat by Hortie.
Hortie touched my pant leg and giggled.
"This is exhibition night, Johnny lad. When a new couple moves in, we all take a peek. The men at the woman," indicating the jostling, pawing circle of men and the laughing Dilly, "and the women at the man. We've all had our turn before, some last year, some the year before that. This year it's your turn. Do you mind?" She smiled, and ran her hands over my front. "You shouldn't-not after this morning," she giggled.
No, I didn't mind-not as long as it led to more, but not too much more. I had to save something for the sorority girls. I wondered, though, if Id like to see Dilly participating in a gang-bang. I shook my head. "Help yourself. I don't mind a bit, and Lura here doesn't have to hold me. I won't run," I laughed.
Lura squeezed my body against her. Whoosh, the air rushed out of my lungs. "Hold it!" I managed to wheeze.
"I like to hold you," she murmured in my ear. Her hips gyrated and I could feel the bulge of her rub into my backside.
The three on the couch leaned forward, and, one by one, took turns at ridding me of some of my clothing. I was down to my bulging, jockey shorts before I had caught my breath from that last squeeze. They stopped for a moment, to catch their own breaths, and to gulp down another drink. Hortie must have seen the look on my face and felt sorry for me. She held a newly-filled glass to my lips.
I smelled it and shuddered. "Is that that Devil's Brew of Harold's?" That's it, mate."
I wasn't her mate, but I had a hunch that before the night was over I would need a little rocket fuel. I guzzled it down and waited for the fireworks. They came, fast and furious.
My head and gut were playing leap-tag when I felt the fingers-even through the purple halo produced by the joy-juice. Each girl was taking turns feeling me through the thin shorts, just brushing me lightly, teasingly. Big John reared and snorted and bucked out at them.
Lura just about broke my neck trying to see around, and down.
"You could put me down," I panted.
She did just that, with a thump that rattled my teeth and gurgled my innards. Then she moved swiftly to the couch and sat with the others. She was so huge and dark that she looked like some gigantic queen of the jungle. I stood a moment, massaging my sides where her steely fingers had held me. I'd have bruises for a week, I knew.
"Well, ladies?" I rubbed my hands together hopefully, eyeing first one, then the other.
"Please do take off the rest," said a soft quiet and musical little voice. It was Mary Fong-the first time I had heard her speak.
"Shall I turn my back?" Maybe a little humor would wipe off that tense look in Lura's face. Her fingers curled claw-like into the sofa-arm and her generous mouth, while slightly parted, held a cruel and rapacious look.
She shook her head. "Just as you are, and hurry. The other ladies have seen this-this thing of yours, but I have not had the honor." Her black eyes burned into my crotch with a blazing gaze that set me afire.
I bowed low, and rising slowly, swept down the shorts with a grandiose gesture. I kicked them up in the air, and just stood there, hips thrust forward, for them to admire me.
They did, and Hortie, despite the jockey shorts slung kerchief-like over the top of her sleek hairdo, swallowed noisily, then slid off the couch onto her knees in front of me.
"We each must kiss you once," she said.
"Just once?"
"That's all we're allowed."
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
She didn't answer, but what she did was a lot better. She puckered up her lips and brushed them right across Big John. Then she eased back onto the couch, a look of disappointment on her face. It was nothing compared to mine.
Camille was next-a long, slurping, sloppy, but awfully nice, kiss. My legs were jelly by now. A light breeze would have toppled me.
Mary stared and stared at Big John. I could see there was a struggle going on in her mind.
"You don't have to," I said grudgingly. Her soft petal-like lips were quivering-anxiously, I hoped.
"I must," she intoned. "I can't afford not to." With a quick flash of olive skin where her skirt caught on the sofa, she bent and gave me a little peck.
"Next customer?" I grinned. Lura was the only one left and we all knew it. No chicken, she. She placed her hands on my waist again and lifted me straight up-into her wide open mouth. Her tongue wrapped around Big John, and her lips clamped hard. The suction was fierce-and wonderful. I felt as though I had been caught in a human vacuum-cleaner.
Dimly, I heard Camille say, "Lura, you'd better not."
She slipped me out and tenderly, set me back down on the floor. She looked at me with what I was sure was regret, but there was no doubt about the feelings charging through me.
"What the hell is going on here, ladies?" I roared. Mad clear through, I was ready to bust the party wide open now. To be teased and tantalized right to the brink of release, and then dropped like a hot potato was too kooky for my blood.
They rose as one and drifted into the other room. Not a word did they say. In fact, they seemed to be harboring some inner tension fully as strong as mine.
While I hurriedly dressed again, determined to get the hell out as quickly as possbile, I could see Dilly slipping her dress over her head. Her admirers had left her and were buzzing all about their wives, talking vigorously, arguing, and shooting nervous glances back at Dilly and me.
I joined her at the door. "Ready?"
She looked as though she had been sucking lemons, so sour was the expression on her face.
"You, too?" she said.
"You, too?" I echoed.
She nodded slowly. I held the door for her, and with an ironic, "Ta-Ta," to the others solemnly watching us, we left.
It was a relief to flop on the bed and nurse a decent highball. Dilly was no drinker, usually, from what she said, but she poured herself a noble hooker and sat beside me.
"Well?" She wrinkled her face again.
"Yeah." I couldn't think of anything better to say. My eyes drifted naturally to the window and out across the way to the sorority house. My heart felt like lead. The place was as black as a bat.
She saw my long face, then the cause of it. 'Well, that's life." She tossed off the rest of the drink and shuddered.
"Well, there's still each other," I remarked hopefully. "I can't strike out on all counts." Then a bright idea hit me. I turned quickly to her. "You know, your swapsies seems to be right down the drain. It would have been nice, but I grinned evilly at her. "No sense your staying here any more. I'll help you pack in the morning."
She looked me square in the eye, and said, succinctly, "Bull."
"Tsk, tsk, foul talk never got anyone anywhere."
"Maybe not, but I have a sneaking hunch.. Her eyes narrowed, and the wrinkles in her forehead told me she had something up her sleeve.
"Watch it now," I put in hastily. 'Ten-thousand dollars," I reminded her.
"That reminds me!" She smiled a big, luscious, and sly smile.
I frowned. I didn't like it. "What?"
"I have plans for that money." She winked at me.
"Listen here, cookie," I shook my finger at her. 'That's my dough."
"Not yet it isn't."
CHAPTER FOUR
An hour later, I still sat on the couch by the window-alone. The sorority was still ghostly and quiet. What the hell, I thought, first classes tomorow. Tonight should be celebration night. Even Dilly had left me.
We had talked for awhile, mostly about school. She wanted to know what courses I was taking and who was teaching them. I didn't know what the hell difference it made, but I told her anyway. Standard freshman stuff and mostly grad students, on fellowships, for teachers. I remarked that I couldn't see her interest, especially when I saw her taking notes of my program.
"Why, I have to take an interest in everything you do," she said, opening wide those big, blue, baby eyes at me. "Maybe I can help you."
I groaned. "Look, I don't know how well you did in school, but this is different. You'd make a helluva tutor." I made a grab for her, wanting to squeeze those big, sweet tits of hers, and then some.
"No, you don't." She scooted away, off the bed. She stood, testing the air, it seemed. "It's warm out, isn't it?" She wet her finger and held it up.
"That's to see which way the wind is blowing, idiot," I remarked kindly.
"I know that," she retorted. "Just making sure. I won't wear a coat. I look better without one, don't you think?" She smoothed the waist of her dress and breathed in deeply.
I made another grab for her. She ducked out when I landed on the floor.
She flew to the door. "I may be a little late. Don't wait up, dear."
"And just where are you going at this time of night in this small town, this college town?"
"Out."
She was right, too. Zip, and she was gone, without a further word-a helluva way for my new wife to act, I thought. What would the neighbors say? Speaking of neighbors-the light across the way bloomed brightly, and I waited with beating heart and a tightening of my lower ganglia.
A girl walked quickly into the room, ducked out of sight for a moment, then reappeared. The sign this time read:
"COME QUIET-LADDER." I had no more than an instant in which to read it. She scooted out of the room and flipped off the light.
So, we had to play Sneaky Pete, did we? For a moment, I pondered the advisability of going over at all. But when I thought of all those sweet young things positively dying of neglect, I knew what I had to do.
On the first floor of our apartment building is a coffee shop, sloppy looking place, but then again this isn't the Waldorf. The counter-man was reading a book when I walked in. He glanced up disinterestedly as I sat on a stool.
"Coffee." I glanced around automatically. Half a dozen well-worn picnic-table affairs, four stools, and the crummy counter I was leaning on. That was it.
He grumbled something I didn't quite catch and kept on reading.
I waited a few seconds. "Coffee?" Politely, I hoped, but I knew it had teeth in it.
"Yeah, yeah." He turned a page. "Who the hell do you think you are-Napoleon?"
"John Doe."
He read a few seconds longer, then slowly closed the book, a cheap paperback, I could see, with the usual lurid cover.
"John Doe?" There was an avaricious gleam in his eye I couldn't quite put my finger on. Anyway, he was all speed from them on. He yanked one pot off the burner and held it over a cup.
"No, that's not fresh enough." He banged it back on the burner and swept up the other one. He poured the cup brim full and set it gently before me, with a touch of reverance more befitting the nobility than me.
"Sugar? Cream? A fresh doughnut? Cake?" He swept them all up to the cup, then with his elbows on the counter, and his hands under his chin, he gazed soulfully into my eyes, sighing rapturously.
"So you're John Doe. I never would have dreamed it."
I sipped the coffee. It was good, but too hot-just like the tension in the air.
"What's up, Buster?" I asked him.
"Frank-Frank Lodola." His voice was soft and silky now.
"So why wouldn't you have dreamed I was John Doe, and how the hell do you know my name anyway?" I gulped down the coffee and half-rose from the seat.
"Well ... I was told about you, but I thought surely you would be a big man-all over," he simpered.
OK, I had him pegged now. He was no bigger than I, ten years older, and quite slight in build.
I looked him square in the eye. "You're gay, aren't you?" I got ready to beat it, glad the counter was between us. I was really glad when I saw his reaction. I thought sure he was going to kiss me.
He beamed at me and was positively delighted, clapping his hands together and shutting his eyes. The smile on his face was beatific.
"Yes, oh yes. How did you ever know?"
"Well, ah, it wasn't easy," I lied. I edged my way to the door as he began to move around the counter toward me.
"I'll, ah, see you later," I said. Much later, I hoped. I'd skip the coffee from now on, or get it some other place. How come, when they say that ninety percent of the homosexuals don't look it in the least, that quite to the contrary, they're apt to be large, muscular, athletic specimens, I had to pick one of the ten percenters?
"Yes, you will." He actually giggled then, and made a playful grab at me as I flew out the door.
I scampered down the drive, and hoped his devotion to duty was stronger than his urge toward the same sex.
Directly under the window was the rather high hedge I'd noticed from my window. Their window was not visible from where I was now and the hedge seemed impenetrable. I prowled up and down the length of it. At the back it dead-ended against a high cement wall. I walked back to the front and just edged around the corner. It wouldn't do at all to be seen walking up on the sorority property. The coast appeared clear, no cars on the street, no walkers on the walk. I stole around the corner, like a weasel in the night.
The ladder was there, all right-a step-ladder. I gauged the distance from the top of the ladder to the window sill on the second floor. It would be a scramble but I felt sure I could make it.
Remembering from some idle reading somewhere, that gravel thrown against a window usually brought about the desired results, I scooped up a large handful and mounted the ladder. It teetered nicely and I clawed like a wildman to keep from sailing through the hedge. My screech of alarm was loud enough to bring the girls to the window.
"Eek! There's a man down there!"
"Well, I should hope so. That ladder's not for Santa Claus." That was my platinum blonde. "Hold onto me while I give our hero a hand." In a moment, I felt her hands clasp warmly over mine. "Upsy-daisy!" She grunted and pulled.
I gave a little leap and sent the ladder crashing into the hedge. I hung dangling for a moment, then felt myself yanked over the edge as other hot and eager little hands grabbed my wrists and arms. I shot over the sill, the girls clawing now at my shirt and pants.
"Whoof!" I landed amidst a tangle of flailing arms and legs, and soft, warm bodies.
Someone flicked on a small bedside lamp, just a little glow, and I sat up groggily. The girls scampered to their feet, shushing each other, and me, to be still. They shut the door softly and tiptoed almost as though they were practicing ballet.
A tall redhead, dressed in man's red pajamas looked me over, rather scathingly, I thought. She shook her head. "He doesn't look like much. Maybe we ought to throw him back."
The platinum blonde stood up for me-good girl. "Gina, you haven't seen all of him. Help me get his clothes off, girls."
They had me stripped, clean as a whistle, in less time than it takes to draw a deep breath.
"Holy smoke!" exclaimed Gina. "I don't believe it." She stared at Big John, and he stood right up, taking aim right at the juncture of her thighs. Her hands reached out and held tight. Her chest heaved, and I could feel her hands tremble, nearly as much as I was. "Trixie, Trixie, how right you are," she said.
The platinum grinned in delight. "If they pass this test they're in."
"They sure are." Gina whispered.
Trixie took my hand. "We're going to walk out here, softly, slowly, and down to the recreation room. We have to be very quiet. We slipped a sleeping pill into the proctor's coffee tonight. I hope it takes. If it doesn't...."
"What's up?"
"Silly, silly." She patted Big John tenderly. "You'll see. I promise you'll enjoy yourself. Just do exactly as you're told."
Gina opened the door ever so quietly and we stole out into the hall. Trixie held my hand and the other girls followed, giggling lightly and running their hands over my naked back and legs. At the end of the hall there was a flight of stairs. Dimly, I could see the floor below.
"They squeak, so be awful careful," Trixie warned. "Her room is right at the bottom."
We stole silently down, stopping on every step while we waited with baited breath. The door at the bottom was open, and, inside, I could see a large bump under the covers. Better yet, she was snoring like all get out.
Across the large living room, weaving around the sofas and chairs, we threaded our way, like a file of Indians.
"Watch it now," Gina muttered. I whanged into the screen shielding the basement door, and it went over with a crash I was sure would bring down the house.
"Whazzat? Whazzat?" a heavy, but sleepy female voice exclaimed.
We dove for cover, behind anything that would shield us. Trixie and I lay flat on the floor behind the screen, facing each other. Her nightie had flipped up to her waist and she had swung one leg over me. I could feel the prickle of her hair scratching deliciously at Big John. I rubbed against her and filled my hands with the ripe melons thrusting through the thin nightie.
She moaned and spread her legs. I shoved and felt the warmth and wet of her against me. I wiggled a bit to adjust myself, ready to sink it in all the way.
"Psst! Hurry! Let's go!" Gina whispered. She yanked at my feet and spoiled everything.
I heard a soft, "Damn," and then Trixie got to her feet. She grabbed my hand with a grip of steel, and off we went again, this time down into the basement. The lights were on and a faint strain of rather spooky music could be heard. There were probably two dozen girls sitting on cushions and pillows on the floor, and when they spied me they ooh'd and ah'd and carried on as though they'd never before seen a male in heat. Maybe some of them hadn't I gathered from some of the bits of conversation.
At the far end of the room a sheet hung limply from a wire. About waist-high in the center was cut a hole about two inches in diameter. Trixie and Gina walked me across the room and I waved and nodded to the girls, feeling more like a damn fool every moment. I might have backed out but the excitement was just too much. Big John had to be satisfied one way or another.
They pulled me behind the sheet and stood me in front of the hole.
"Shove that ball bat through the hole," said Gina.
"What the hell are we going to do now?" I asked. "Bob for apples, pitch quoits?"
She grinned. "Not quite. This is initiation night, not the formal one we have later-for the record. This is the real one, the one that separates the girls from the women. This is a swinging sorority and any girl in it goes all the way. We have our pick of all the men this way. In ten years," she stated proudly, "Sigma Sigma has never had one girl walk home from a date. We're always in demand."
"I can see why," I murmured.
"Trixie will stay back here with you to give you a hand."
I'll need help?"
"You may," she smiled, then left the two of us behind the sheet.
"Do the fraternities have similar, ah, ceremonies?" I asked Trixie.
"They have some dandies, and they use only senior girls, ones that have lots of experience-and stamina. I'll be a senior next year. Maybe I'll get pinned."
"Yeah, right to the wall. OK. What happens now?"
"This is a deflowering ceremony. We have three virgins for you to, ah ... ," she stumbled over her words and blushed furiously.
I grinned at her discomfort. "Well, I hate to brag, but maybe you should have picked somebody a little smaller for their first time around. Now just what is your part, and what the hell is the sheet for? Why not just go to it right in plain sight?"
"It's one of our rules. They'll never know who the first man was. Besides, it's more exciting this way-just that ... that thing of yours sticking out through the hole in the sheet. The blazing sex symbol of man!" Then she scooted behind me and pressured up against me. "The first one is coming. She looks awful small and frightened."
I heard the pad-pad of approaching footsteps and a muffled cheer from the onlookers. Then I heard a little girlish whimper. Then silence for a few moments.
Finally, it was Gina's voice I heard next. "Go on, touch it first, if you aren't chicken. Grab right ahold of it. It won't bite you." She laughed then.
A feathery, warm caressing made me jump practically out of my skin. Trixie grabbed my waist and held me.
"Ooh, it's hot ... and hard." She squeezed hard.
"Up on your toes. That's it. We'll hold you. Wriggle him in, slowly. That's it. How's that?"
A sigh.
"Are you sure you're a virgin?"
"Not now!" she screamed.
I felt myself suddenly enveloped by clinging, grabbing, hot, moist flesh. The weight of her body thrust against me as she writhed and ground and groaned. The feeling was indescribable. Not being able to see her heightened the excitement. I gasped, and bucked back and forth, in and out, and around and around.
Suddenly, it was over-for her. I heard her screech of ecstasy, and felt the last quivering, pulsating grab of her hot flesh. Then she was gone, and I was out in the cold.
I groaned. I could have wept from sheer frustration.
"There, there," Trixie patted my shoulder. Then she laughed, rather nastily I thought.
The next one had buck-fever, and there was no doubt about her being a virgin. When they forced her down on Big John, she screamed and fainted dead away. I yelped as she fell against me, but her helpers grabbed her before any damage was done.
"She's had it," Gina murmured. "Carry her out. Next?"
Next came running. The slap-slap of her bare feet sent my blood to boiling. This one was a ringer, I was sure. She didn't need any help. Her eager hands grabbed me, and I heard her exclaim in delight. She reached under and cupped and juggled me.
"Easy. Easy, does it," I cautioned.
"Lover," she breathed through the sheet. "This is going to be a trip you'll never forget-or regret."
"It works both ways. Climb on, oh vestal virgin," I snorted.
She giggled, and I heard her little grunt as she guided me in-all the way, the bulge of her pudenda pressing hard against me.
"Are you taking it all? Right off the bat?" Gina exclaimed. "Doesn't it hurt? Are you sure you're a virgin?" Her voice was sharp and suspicious now.
She moved slowly and surely, sliding up and down my now well-greased pole with dextrous ease.
Her voice was silky-soft, purring like the contented cat she was. "Honey, don't fret. I just rode too many boys' bicycles when I was a kid. Honestly, I never felt anything like this before! Ooh, it's scrumptious!" Her head pressed against the sheet and she whispered to me, "Oh, screw me! Screw me, love, like you've never screwed anyone before. The works! Drown me in love!"
Trixie snorted and griped behind my back. "I ought to let you fall flat on your back." But she pressed herself hard against my buttocks and began to saw back and forth wildly, caught up in the excitement herself.
I plunged and bucked and threw myself forward and back. Trixie's hard breasts drilled into my back. Her breath was hot and moist on my neck, and she bit at my ears, first one, then the other. Her hands snaked down and cupped me and rolled me. In front, I was on fire, burning up in a great bonfire of passion. My moment was close. I could feel myself swelling and getting harder every moment. The sweet, excruciating pressure was unbearable.
The girl in front began to move faster, slamming against me like a piledriver. Then, suddenly, she gasped in a long, quivering convulsion and went limp against me.
Then it hit me. The top of my head blew off, and the flood gates opened. Trixie wrapped her arms around my waist, shoved her wet pussy against my straining buttocks as hard as she could, and then proceeded to chew off half my ear.
CHAPTER FIVE
Dilly hadn't returned ry the time I managed to sneak out of Sigma Sigma, but she could take care of herself, I was sure. There wasn't any worry on that score. I left the door unlatched and crawled under the covers. It was midnight now, and I had a seven o'clock class. A helluva time to start, I knew, but as a freshman, I had no choice.
I drifted off to sleep almost immediately, exhausted from the night's activities. A few wandering thoughts bobbed about in my mind, little inconsequential ones like: One, what in hell was the Koffee-Klatch all about? Two, was Frankie-boy going to give me a hard time? Three, would Dilly and I get away with passing as marrieds? And, four, how in the devil, what with my previous scholastic record and my extra-curricular activities, present and lined-up, was I ever going to last out the year and collect the ten grand dear, dear Aunt Claudie had left to me?
"The Ages of Man-Now who can tell me about them? Or, radioactive carbon-tracing? Is the lemur our ancestor, or is he not?" The prof beamed patiently at us, tapping his fingers on the edge of his desk. He waited, and he waited.
His expression changed to one of impatient boredom. He yawned and glanced out the window, covering his mouth with his hand, however. He turned back to us slowly, his eyebrows raised expectantly.
"Hmm?" he drawled hopefully.
Silence.
His gaze lingered over the class, down and up the rows of sleep-filled, foggy-headed faces. He stopped at mine, and a cunning, rather lecherous, look came over his face.
"Mr. Doe, how about you?" He clasped his hands behind his back and teetered on his heels.
"I've been out of school for four years, but even at that I don't think I've ever been exposed...."
He butted right in. "Oh, come, come, Mr. Doe. Exposure is only a prelude. One must intensify his efforts. Bring the thing wriggling right out into the open. Search your mind. See if you can't remember." His hands came forward, delicate, almost china-fragile in appearance. He caressed one with the other voluptuously as he talked, then waited and watched.
Professor Denning was a burly, beetle-browed thug-except for his hands. They were those of a woman, and they were even continually on the move. I'd already learned his nickname-Ladyfingers, but I doubted if anyone called him that to his face.
And this was the Denning of last night, of the koffee-klatch. I'd come into class early for this, the first period. If I could do nothing else, at least I could be on time for class. I'd sure hated to leave Dilly, though. When the damn alarm banged away at six-thirty, she was all snuggled up to me-nice and warm ... and totally naked.
Automatically, I swung over on top of her.
The next thing I knew I was on the floor. She had booted me out.
"Off you go, hubby." She smiled at me sleepily, but with undeniable firmness. Then she rolled over, pulled the covers over her head, and began to snore-deliberately, I'm sure.
I struggled into my clothes, eyeing the bed all the time. Murder was in my heart.
She must have been a mind reader. The snoring stopped, and she said, very clearly, "Ten-thousand dollars." Then she began snoring once more.
"Bah!" I slammed the door behind me just like a newlywed on the sticky end of the first spat.
Would lonesome Freddy be straining at the leash in the coffee shop? I crossed my fingers and skated by as fast as I could. Wasted effort-the shop was closed. A fast cup of coffee at the all-night joint down the street and here I was.
Yes, here I was. It took me a minute to remember where I had seen him before, but once he had written his name on the board I knew. The koffee-klatch ... where he and the dame, probably his wife, had stalked out on Camille's little show. Well, at least he hadn't seen me-and my little act. What got me right now was this apparently deliberate and selective quizzing.
"Well?" The hands, almost ivory-white and beautifully manicured, stroked each other so, so suggestively, I couldn't help watching them.
"Doe!" he shouted.
"Oh!" I came awake, face beet-red, and with egg on my face. "I, ah, ah, forgot what you asked me." This could be the beginning of the end. Goodbye ten-grand. I had to have this course. It was required.
"See me after class," he snapped.
I suffered through the rest of the period and with heavy heart watched the rest of the class troop out when the end finally came.
He sauntered after the last of the stragglers and leisurely shut the door. His powerful shoulders swivelled my way, and the bull neck and hard, florid face swung round on me.
"So...." He sauntered once more, this time to the seat beside me. I started to get up. "Sit. Sit." He had a smile on his face now like a basket full of broken bottles-and just as dangerous. "Tell me about yourself, John." He eased his bulk into the seat. His legs swung well out into the aisle, his knees touching mine. The beautiful hands crept into his lap, down his legs, and finger-walked over my knee. Then the damnedest thing happened to me-something I had never dreamed could happen.
Big John began to swell and push toward the slyly moving fingers. I cleared my throat and suddenly crossed my legs. Too late. He had seen.
He sat back in the chair and tapped his fingers against his teeth, trying to avoid looking like the cat that had swallowed the canary. Too late. I had seen. And ... I knew, now. He was as queer as a three-dollar bill. I bolted from the seat and made for the door. I got it open and was half through it just as the whip-crack of his voice stopped me cold.
"Doe!"
I froze.
"I expect you and your ... ah, wife to be at my apartment at eight sharp tonight."
My ... ah, wife? What did he know? I turned slowly and looked at him. He was smiling, and still tapping his teeth with his slender fingers. A bell bonged a warning in my mind. Eight o'clock had better see us in the Denning apartment.
I nodded, and walked out on heavy feet. I had two more classes before noon and the day was over--except for going to the bookstore, standing in line for two hours, shelling out forty-five dollars, going to see my class advisor (time, one hour and a quarter), checking out five books in the library (to be read before the week was over), and going to the veterans' office to fill out forms (time, two hours and twenty minutes).
"Love!" She threw open the door and smothered me with kisses.
I shoved her off and staggered to the bed. "My God!" I groaned. "My back, my poor aching back, and my feet. Here." I lay out flat on my back. 'Take off my shoes, and massage those sacks of cement I have for feet."
"Hard day at the office, dear?" she smirked.
"Shaddup!" I tried to move my arm to belt her. It was paralyzed. The books, those cotton-pickin', ten-pound tomes I'd lugged around had crippled me for life. I laughed feebly and shut my eyes. I was ready to throw in the sponge. The army hadn't been so bad, after all.
I felt her hands at my laces, then she loosened the shoes and wrenched them off. The cool air soothed them, but they still felt like eighteen's, not nine's.
"Better?" She curled up on the bed beside me.
"Better." The feel of her soft, warm body, and the odor of cologne and just plain girl was balm to my broken, weary body. I held her face in my hands and kissed her eyes, her nose, her sugar-sweet lips.
"Ummm." She parted her lips and let me taste the honey within. My tongue slithered in and lapped it up.
The pressure of her big, bountiful breasts was setting off a mild conflagration in my chest. I rolled and rubbed against them, and felt the nipples toughen and scrape against my thin shirt.
"No bra?" I murmured.
"No bra ... no supper, either."
The thought of food started my stomach juices to growling. "How come ... wife?"
"No food in the house, no money in the pocket."
"Hmm."
"I know the cutest place. Oh, not so much to look at, I suppose, but the food seems good, and reasonable."
"Let's go." Maybe we would get served a veritable banquet later, say, shortly after eight tonight. If I played my cards right and just teased him along, who knows what might happen? Yet, thinking of the size and evident strength of him, I hoped I wasn't biting off more than I could chew. Maybe I should wear a steel jock to keep Big John under control.
I glued my eyes to her pert and twitching rump as I followed her down the stairs. The day was warm and she had on shorts and a halter, the shorts skin-tight and bulging with sweetness, and the halter helplessly trying to contain its own bundle of goodies.
"Move along. Sharp now." I got her between me and the coffee shop and hustled her by the arm.
"We're here," she said.
"We're what?" My eyeballs rolled up like those of a dead fish.
"This is the place." She disengaged my now slack hand and waltzed herself in. It was too late to back out, and I placed it in the lap of the gods. Let come what may.
The place was full; thank goodness Harold and Hortense were the only ones I recognized. They sat at a table for four and breezed us over with wild swings of their arms and much undignified chanting.
The eyes of Iowa were on us, or rather on Dilly as she pranced and wiggled her way to the back of the shop. I couldn't see her front, but I'm sure that's all anybody else saw.
They were seated opposite each other on low benches, a small table, checker-cloth covered, in between. Hortense patted the spot beside her.
"Reserved for Big John," with rather a horsey, but friendly grin. I hadn't realized what a wicked set of choppers she had. I idly wondered if she'd bite when excited and winced at the thought.
"Do you hurt?" Her mouth shut, and a sympathetic expression came over her face.
I pushed up against her long, warm thigh. She, too, was wearing shorts, very, very short, and no panties. I glanced down and saw the deep crease where her shorts pulled close between her legs.
She smiled again. Her leg rolled and pressed against mine. She kept her voice low. "Recovered from last night?" she asked.
"Remarkably well. I kept busy." Three cheers for Sigma, Sigma!
"My God! What a remarkable pair of tits!" Harold exclaimed. He was bent over and peering down the front of Dilly's halter.
"You should know," she replied saucily, not the least abashed by him.
Freddy minced over to our table, order-pad in hand, and a young man hovering at his side. He was about my age, slight of build, clear, beautiful tone to his skin, and long eyelashes-false. I could see where one of them had slipped.
"Hello, Johnny."
"Ugh."
"Stewart. This is he. Johnny, Stewart Love."
"Well-named, I'll bet."
Stewart patted his razor-cut hair, and tucked at his shirt. His voice was a squeak, and he seemed very nervous.
"I've heard so much about you," he gushed.
Harold guffawed and slapped Dilly a good whack on the back.
Hortie giggled and slyly crept her hand into my lap, plain enough so that I knew my two friends could watch. They took our order and watched as she stroked me into bulging tumescence. There wasn't anything I could do, other than what I was doing. The hell with them. I thought Stewart would faint as Big John reared and bulged way out of proportion to the rest of my body.
"Go." I snapped my fingers. They did, and broke all speed records for returning with an order.
Freddy managed to brush my hand suggestively as he set down the food. "Give our love to Vicky tonight," he whispered.
"Vicky?" I stared at him.
He tittered, wagged a slim finger at me, and with Stewart in his wake, as usual, he slithered back through the crowded tables.
"Tonight?" Harold and Hortense exchanged amused, but knowledgeable glances.
"So let us in on it-and the Vicky bit."
Harold shrugged. "You'll see. Then you'll know about last night."
Dilly kicked me under the table, "So tell me about it."
I did, grinning sheepishly as I detailed the morning's class and my impression of Denning.
"Good luck," Harold grinned wryly. "Excuse us. Books to hit, all that jazz." He stood up, and managed, quite overtly, to peer way down the front of Dilly's halter again. "Fabulous, fabulous tits." He sucked in his breath in appreciation.
She pulled his hand down, and whispered at length to him.
"My word!" I heard him exclaim softly. He kissed her chin and I heard him say something I couldn't quite catch. Hortie gave me a last squeeze and stood up.
"You'd better face the wall," she giggled.
After they left I asked Dilly what she had said to Harold. She made a little face and winked at me. That was all. I couldn't get a word out of her.
I-A was adjacent to the coffee shop. The nameplate was identical to all the others, but the printing was ornate, and done with red ink-Victor and Pearl Denning.
I pressed the buzzer, and a melodious chime sounded within. The door opened immediately.
"Please," in a well-modulated, crisp voice. Pearl Denning beckoned with one slim arm.
I got a good look at her for the first time. Medium height, a bit slim, small-breasted, rather severe black suit, and a grim, little mouth. Not really a bad-looking woman, but cold and efficient-seeming, the lady-executive type.
The view through the doorway, and into the apartment, was something else.
"Wow!" was about all I could say.
The colors, the oranges and reds and yellows, were blinding. The walls and the ceiling were each a different hue, and none was dull. Indirect lighting colored, glowed and pulsed in stroboscopic effect along the recesses at the tops of the walls. The floor plan was apparently the same as ours, but the effect they had created was bizarrely different. Roccoco furniture, avant-garde paintings and bits of sculpture gave it the finishing touches.
She noticed my reaction and smiled grimly.
"Victor's." She nodded with a slight motion of her head toward the inside.
The music started just as Dilly said, "No music?" Soft strains of something classical, suggestively feminine wafted out.
"Mine." She listened appreciatively for a second, then shut the door softly.
Victor appeared from the kitchen with a tray, four glasses, and a cocktail shaker. He took over from there, suave and polished both in appearance and manner.
I had worn just slacks and shirt, the same I'd had during the day. Dilly would be damned if she'd change from the shorts and halter.
"The hell with them. It all sounds more like a summons than an invitation, and I don't like summonses."
Red velvet smoking jacket, tied carelessly with a broad sash; yellow, silk shirt, open at the throat; knife-creased, green trousers; and black, patent-leather shoes-that was "Vicky."
I felt I had to apologize for our appearance. "Sorry," taking the drink he offered, "didn't dress. Didn't realize it would be quite so formal."
"Perfectly all right." The smile he gave me was friendly, but not so with the sour look he gave to Dilly. He handed her the drink without a word. I could see she had made an immediate hit.
She flushed and snatched it from him. "Thanks," tartly, and with an impudent swing of her hips walked to a large painting on the wall. It was of a voluptuous, reclining female nude.
"Like it?" Pearl strolled up beside her, and laid her hand lightly on Dilly's hip. Her voice was warm and soft now, and her crisp manner seemed pleasantly wilted.
Victor grunted, his upper lip curling contemptuously. "They'll get along just fine." He swivelled his chair around and presented his back to the women. Then his manner changed abruptly. "Well, I'm sure you and I have a great deal to talk about." He beamed, and waved me into a deep and luxurious leather couch.
I sat-on the edge, somewhat apprehensive.
"I like you, young man. You've that keen, alert look-the look of one sensitive to all the nuances and shadings of our complex lives." He swirled the amber liquid in his glass, and the reflected light made his eyes golden, like those of some great, sleepy cat.
Something told me another drink was in order. I gulped it down and shoved the glass at him. He padded into the kitchen and was back before I could get up and sit more safely in an armchair. I tossed off the better half of it, and the hot glow of it tightened my nerve and loosened my tongue.
I settled back. "OK, let's have it."
He looked startled and spilled part of his drink. He swore, pertinently, and dabbed at the spot of wet dark on his smoking jacket.
"I think perhaps I'd better do something before I talk. I think-I'm sure-you'll be in a more receptive frame of mind." He stood up and looked across the room for the women. They were nowhere in sight.
"Pearl?" he snapped.
We waited a long moment, both of us appearing uneasy, but for different reasons.
"No luck?" A throaty and deriding little laugh followed her question. She stood in the doorway of the bedroom, her face flushed and her hair in disarray.
Behind her I could see Dilly, an amused and satisfied grin on her face. She gave a little hitch to her shorts, zipped them with what seemed like a fearfully loud noise in the quiet of the apartment, and sailed past Pearl out to us. Her hand dropped down behind Pearl. Her hand moved inward suddenly and Pearl jumped and screeched.
"Goosy, dear?" Dilly chuckled back over her shoulder.
"I didn't know you were a switch-hitter," I remarked dryly.
"There's a lot about me you don't know, love." She plopped between me and Victor, and chucked me under the chin.
He arose hastily, repulsion written strongly on his heavy-jowled face.
"Not so very much-about either of you. Sit tight." He walked hastily into the bedroom. We could hear him banging and crashing around, slamming drawers, and muttering angrily.
"What's eating him?" I looked questioningly at Dilly.
"She made the scene. He didn't."
"Not yet, but he's a very determined man." Pearl stood white and tense, still in the doorway.
Victor reappeared, arms loaded with equipment-a projector, a folding screen and what appeared to be a tape recorder. He set up things quickly, placing the screen across the room from us, and the projector on the coffee table in front of the couch.
"Lights." He snapped his fingers.
She turned them off, and the dark took over-until the white beam of light shot out.
We watched ... and watched.
"Lights." The finger-snap again.
She flicked them on, and we watched some more-with thudding hearts. He put away the projector and the screen.
The recorder was next, and when he'd finished he put that away also. "Another round of drinks?" he purred.
We nodded glumly, and I stared after him and my ten-thousand dollars winging out the window.
He read my mind as he stood in front of me, holding out the tray. "It is a tidy sum of money, isn't it. Dear Aunt Claudie must have thought a great deal of you. I wonder what manner of revolting things she had you do. Never mind...." He waved off my protestations.
Pearl sat on the arm of the sofa and trailed her hand over toward Dilly.
"It'll keep, dear," he snapped. Then he turned back to me. "Yes, your room is bugged. So is the other, and it was only a bit more difficult to set up the cameras. You really enjoyed having all those women mouth you last night. I was glad to see that. Not all are so enamored of oral sex. We are, aren't we?" He prodded me with the toe of his shoe.
I sat silent. He held all the aces as far as I could see.
"Do you suppose the dean would enjoy a copy of the film and the tape." He tugged at his chin with his pale, delicate fingers. I heard his low, rumbling laugh as though from a great distance.
I stalled. "What's with all the others here? You know, the other tenants, and how the hell do you get away with it? I should think the manager would toss you out on your ear."
"My, aren't we curious. Well, it won't matter. Perhaps you may be in their shoes one day. You see, first off, I own the building. That helps, doesn't it," he smiled sardonically.
Dilly came back from the kitchen with full glasses for all. "You look as though you could use it," she smirked at me.
"Well," Victor continued. "At one time or another I have caught all the others here in similar circumstances. Amazing how lustful, how like primitive man, or like animals, we are-when we feel we can get away with it."
"And now you have your eyes on us."
"On you, dear boy. Pearl will make arrangements with your, ah, wife."
"Go to hell," I told him. I sprang up, madder than a hot hornet. Big as he was, I was ready to clobber him. Well, almost-at least, I was a lot younger and could run like hell.
I pulled Dilly up and really yanked on her arm when she patted Pearl's arm soulfully. "Let's go."
We made it to the door unscathed. Frankly, I was a bit surprised, maybe even disappointed. Now that I was safe, my courage had risen. I glanced back in. They hadn't moved. She still sat on the sofa arm, and he stood calmly right in the same spot.
"I suppose you'll toss us out now," I snarled.
"Not at all, not at all. You have just one month-amply long, I should say-to think it over. Goodness, that's a great deal of money," he sighed. "I hate to see it wasted, just thrown away."
"I'll just bet you do!" I snorted. "Come on.
Out of this swine-hole." I stepped out and pulled at Dilly again.
"Oh, one more thing." He held up a cautionary finger. "No dallying or diddling with the others. They're not to touch you until I'm through, and they know it."
I slammed the door.
CHAPTER SIX
Do you know, we behaved like model citizens for the next three weeks. We hardly spoke to the others in the building. I was short, but not rude, to Frankie and his shadow. They were apparently stooges, and it wouldn't pay to get on the bad side of them, I figured.
I even, and how I hated to do it, kept the drapes shut. I waved goodbye to the weeping girls in the sorority house, and with a tug of the cord shut them out of my life. Occasionally, I met Trixie and one or two of the others on the street. I pleaded rush, and stumbled on.
I hit the books like mad and showed up in class every morning bleary-eyed and utterly stupid. It didn't seem to matter how much I crammed into my head. Most of it leaked out, and what was left was nothing but a jumble.
Denning ignored me, treated me like all the others, and never batted an eye. I could almost think he had forgotten his horrid, little scheme if he hadn't reminded me at the end of each week that another week had flown.
Like today-"You have seen days, dear boy. My, aren't we stubborn, though." He patted my head and sighed. "You're just delaying the inevitable. All that wonderful money....By the way, you're failing this course abysmally. I never realized anyone could do quite so badly."
"With your help?" I growled.
"You could be a brilliant student-if you tried...." He smiled invitingly.
Go to hell."
It was Monday night. The day had been great-weather wise-but I had made a dismal mess in every class. We'll skip the first one-Denning's, because it wouldn't matter how well I did there, even if I could. We'd had a lovely, little test in literature and I had missed it completely. Oh, I was there, but that's about all I could say. In that stupid history class my mind had registered another complete blank on the three-week test. Well, tomorrow, math and general psych. I had a feeling that my efforts and the results would be consistent.
Dilly stuck her head around the kitchen door. She had a large frying pan in her hand, and was hefting it thoughtfully. I wouldn't have minded if she hadn't been glaring at the top of my head.
"Back into the kitchen, peasant." I made as if to heave a large book at her.
"How come you're goofing off?" She lowered the pan and cocked her head to one side-like a barnyard biddy looking for worms.
'What's the use? I'm going from bad to worse. Friday, we'll know. The prelim reports come out. And that's D-day, Denning-Day, too." I groaned, flopped down on the bed, and pulled the pillow over my head.
I heard her muffled snort and the loud bang of the pan on the stove, then her weight on the bed beside me, and her warm face and hot breath snuggling in under the pillow. She squirmed her body up against me and threw one soft leg over mine.
"You're great, Dilly, but it's no go."
She brushed her moist lips against mine.
"You can always give in. It might not be so bad."
"Dilly. He's just not my type."
"You could consider it a one-night stand-a ten-thousand dollar one. You don't seem to mind if Pearl and I go at it."
"Do you mind?"
"Nope, quite the opposite. Her technique is fantastic. I thought I'd hit the roof." She sighed and her wet tongue slithered around my lips.
"Sloppy. Anyway, it's different with two women."
She made a very rude sound with her lips. Then-"Why?"
I growled and stumbled. "It is." Better change the subject. "While we're at it. Just where the hell do you go every night? Since we've been here you've been home about one night a week."
"Out." Her hands became suddenly busy with the buttons of my shirt and the front of my pants.
I shoved her away. "Knock it off. You are trying to change the subject now." I belted her with the pillow, and sat up glaring at her. "Come on. Where do you go, and what do you do?"
"You know what you need?" She reared up and belted me with a pillow.
I ducked. "No, what?"
"Variety. According to you, you've got nothing to lose. Right?"
"Right." But she had a shifty look in her eye. "So?"
"So this, and I'm sure I can work it."
I waited, narrowing my eyes and trying to read into her scheming mind.
"You know I came here, for two reasons, now. One, them, meaning anybody loveable, and two, you, dear." She smiled coyly, and blinked her long, dark lashes at me."
"I suspect you've already gotten lots of loveables somewhere, those nights you go straying."
"That's neither here nor there. I want some real spice, a little difficulty, and maybe a little danger."
"You fascinate me," I remarked dryly, but not with apprehension.
"I'll change while I'm talking. I must look just right." She swept the plain house dress up over her head, and blinded me with a sleek and rounded expanse of glistening flesh. She was totally naked and as toothsome-looking as anything I'd ever seen.
I made a lunge for her-and missed.
"No, you don't. Save it," she laughed. In a jiffy she was in and out of the closet. What she had in her hands made me choke and sputter.
"Are you going to wear that?" She winked and slipped it on. "Who knows? It might be a wet night."
"Yeah, but...."
"I'll be right back, I'll betcha."
She paused in the open door, the black trench-coat zipped up tight to her chin. "I read a book once about it. It worked beautifully."
I nodded wisely. "What the hell are you talking about?" And found myself talking to the door. I listened to the tap-tap of her heels fade away.
I was half-way through the second cup of coffee when the door eased open stealthily. I whirled at the slight sound, expecting most anything now. She put her finger to her lips and glided in. Behind her, and just as quiet were Camille and Pierre, both dressed in long coats.
Camille shut the door with a powder-puff touch.
"Alo, Zhonieee," she greeted me with an exaggerated French accent.
Alo, yourself." She was stunning, I thought, big pile of fluffed-up sparkling black hair, and heavily made-up. Just right.
"Theese place, she is not bugged anymore, is she?" asked Pierre.
I shook my head. "Ripped out every goddamned wire that looked suspicious-after Vicky gave me the word."
Pierre cleared his throat and looked all around the room. "We are taking a chance, but Dilly convinced us it would be worth it."
"Chance? For you, too?"
"He is a sly one. One misstep, and...!" He drew his finger across his throat and made a rasping sound.
"I'll get us all a nice, cold drink. You all get comfortable. Take off your coats and stay awhile." She winked slyly at them, and slithered off into the kitchen, unzipping her coat noisily as she did so.
"Dilly," I started, startled, "You haven't got anything on...."
"We know. That was the convincer," chuckled Pierre. "Mmpfh!" He kissed his fingers exuberantly.
I still sat on the edge of the bed. They walked over to me and with one quick, sliding motion unzipped their coats.
It was a shock-a perfectly wonderful one. Camille smiled silkily down the abrupt and shadowed slopes of her heavy, naked breasts. Pierre shifted from one foot to the other and giggled, nervously, it seemed.
"You see." He waved his hands as the two of them shed their coats and tossed them onto the floor. "We saw. This she did to us. Bald naked, a sweet, juicy cookie. So-we do it too. We wait for you." He folded his arms across his broad, hairy chest and looked down at me expectantly.
"How about that?" It was Dilly, back from the kitchen, two tall drinks in each hand, and pinkly naked. Unabashed, she handed each of them a drink, and then wiggled between to hand me mine. She managed to brush one soft globe of her behind against Pierre's droopiness. He rose to the occasion immediately, but shifted his feet some more.
"Alas, it is nothing-a petite snail-compared to zat weapon of war you still carry hidden," he complained. He was right. I think my little finger could have given him stiff competition.
"Drink up, love, and let Camille take over." Dilly shoved the glass at me, then twirled around to Pierre. She patted his thinning hair and sad face. "There, there, love. There are other ways. Right?"
"Right." Then, without a further word he dropped to his knees and buried his face in that fuzzy, golden muff of hers. I couldn't see him any more, but I could see from the downward grab of her hands and the tightening of her buttocks and thigh muscles, and the hissing of her pent-up, escaping breath, that he had, indeed, found one of the other ways.
Camille moved forward on me and pressed my head to her sleek and panting belly.
"Kiss me-too."
I glanced up, past the twin turrets of her marvelous chocolate-tipped melons to her face. Her eyes burned with heated desire and closed slowly as I looked deep into them. Her hands pulled at my ears and pushed me against her, and down.
Her skin was hot and dry, all around, but not deep within the tangle of lustrous moss. She opened up like the petals of a dewy rose as I spread her gently with my fingers and pressed my lips to hers. My tongue shot out eagerly to nip and lap at the honeyed bud that had sprung out in full bloom.
She gasped, and with one long, delicious sigh collapsed on top of me. I was smothered by the heated, wet flesh, redolent with perfume, and the steaming musk of her body.
"Zhonieee," she intoned. She lay quivering a long moment, then rolled off me and onto her feet. "Now!" with blazing eyes and bared teeth. She tore at my clothes, never stopping until every shred was tossed to the four corners of the room. She didn't have to touch Big John to spring him to life. He'd been leaping and straining at the bit ever since she had opened her coat.
"Sacre Bleu!" She knelt before me and held him in her hands. His big red head bobbed and pulsated close to the explosion point. She pouted her lips and bent her head.
I shoved her away. "Don't touch me that way."
She pouted, differently. "You don't like it?"
Between clenched teeth, I grated, "I love it, baby, but one touch and I'll go off like a skyrocket." I swung her flat on the bed and mounted her. Her legs spread wide and her strong fingers pressed deep into my trembling buttocks.
I touched her and pushed in slowly, savoring the warm, clinging grab of her flesh. Deeper and deeper, slowly ... until it was in all the way.
"Mon Dieu!" She bit her lip and tossed her head from side to side. "Don't move. I will do it."
She did, with a slow, rolling, churning motion of her hips, and at the same time grabbing and releasing me over and over, deep down within. I felt my blood boil and the pressure and the pleasure mount simultaneously.
She pulled my head down to her breasts and mashed my face into the swaying hillocks. "Now ... ," she gasped, "go!"
I didn't need any bidding. I sucked in a heady mouthful of squirming tit, bit on the turgid, puckered nipple, thrust my spread hands under her plump backside, and plunged like a man gone berserk for a sweet, intense interval that was all too short.
Whamo! And I shot over the edge, pulled, sucking, gushing, and pulsing into her deepest depths.
A minute passed as I lay panting, still quivering. I felt her slither from under and roll to one side. Her breath was hot and moist in my ear.
"Sleep, babee ... a few minutes. Yes?"
Her soft breath blew into my ear, and I drifted off.
I could have been out a minute, or an hour. The lights were out and I felt her fingers trailing hot fire across my belly, and down. I started to sit up, but she pushed me down.
"Just lie still, babee ... for me, the French way. No?"
"Yes."
"All the way, babee. Don't stop me. Yes?"
"Yes, yes, yes." I threw my arm over my eyes and straightened out my legs. She shifted on the bed and I felt the tender, delicate fingers, so feminine, so knowing, caress me and pull me out and up. A hot tongue of fire licked all about the base and around and up the length, to the tip, then around and around in slithery, quick little laps.
I squirmed and reached down to pull at her head.
"No! Don't touch me!" Her voice was sharp and impatient. "Just me ... and this."
I felt myself engulfed in the hot, wet flesh. The teasing, delicate scraping of gentle teeth, then the clamping of firm, suctioning lips. Then, in and out, up and down, while soft finger-tips touched me all around. I heard the sharp, explosive bursts of breath through scorched and panting nostrils.
It was beyond my wildest expectations. She drew and sucked until I thought I would burst with a great thunderclap and a myriad bright suns. My legs straightened out stiff as iron and I was carried aloft in a sudden, surging wave of relief. My life, my whole being gushed and spewed as the dam burst. The firm lips became rigid flesh clamps and pulled me further and further into the realm of fulfillment, contentment ... nothingness.
Aeons, light years, then mere minutes tumbled and drifted by. I heard a sharp click and lifted the weight of my arm from my eyes. Dilly was kneeling over me, her white and pink-tipped pear-shaped breasts swaying like ripe fruit before my eyes.
"You should see yourself," she laughed. She brushed my lips with the puckered nipples.
"Just let me sleep." I rolled over and lay slack, every nerve fiber of my body water-loose. "Where'd she go?" I mumbled. Faintly, I heard her whisper, "They had to leave ... Was it good, love?"
CHAPTER SEVEN
Tuesday was cut-day, as far as I was concerned. There was nothing to be gained by attending class. I slunk out of the apartment early, long before Dilly's time to stagger out of bed and crash around the kitchen making the morning coffee.
The sun was bright and the air crisp, but not cold, this morning in September. I just wanted to walk ... and think. I strode along the sidewalk, then broke into a run as soon as I saw there was no one else on the street. I felt like some sort of health nut until I got out of town. I took the first dirt road out into the country and just ran until my legs were rubber and my heart was pounding and threatening to burst right out of my chest. Exhausted, I threw myself into the tall grass and lay panting. Overhead, the bright ball of the sun floated lazily in the blue sky. The grass smell was strong and good, and the buzz of the insects and the soft cushion of grass sent me back to dreamland.
I must have slept an hour or more, judging from the position of the sun, that and my broken back. Still, I felt a lot better than when I had left the apartment. Then, I was ready to throw in the sponge. I bolted to my feet and walked swiftly back into town, first for coffee and a couple of doughnuts-but not at our coffee shop. I wasn't feeling that good-second, off to the library and a good hard day's work on my own.
Nine o'clock found me buried deep in Margaret Mead's anthropological lore. Ten, Chaucer and I exchanged yawns, and when, at ten-thirty, I listlessly thumbed the pages of Freud and his dream interpretations for psych my head fell on the pages of the open book until a passing friend gave me a playful whack on the back at noon.
Well, that was that. I stumbled over to the newspaper racks and scanned the want-ads. Two minutes reading about convinced me the army wasn't so bad after all. There was little work, and my qualifications were even littler.
Dilly wasn't in, but there was a note pinned to the pillow. "I love you, love," it said. Short and simple-and nice. More and more that little snuggle-bug was getting under my skin, I began to realize. I patted the pillow and fell face down on it-after removing the pin.
I dreamed I was flying, soaring around in great swoops and glides. I had to keep pumping my legs like mad to keep my head up, but it seemed to be pleasurable work. I was just buzzing a mammoth, red-topped flagpole when my motor sputtered. I went into a crash dive and hurtled screaming toward the ground.
Dilly rolled me over with a vigorous heave. Through my slitted, sleep-filled eyes I could see her waves of golden hair, the faint creasing of her forehead, and the wide, wide, deep-blue eyes.
"Bad dream?" She kissed the tip of my nose.
I nodded, still groggy.
Her hands slipped down to Big John. He was rigid, full-blooded, and ramming hard against my clothing. "Hmmm," she mused, squeezing me tentatively. "She must have been nice."
"I'm not sure it was a she...." No, I wasn't sure at all.
"Well, wash, and so forth. Supper's about ready, and then we have company coming."
"Who?"
"You'll see." She skipped to the kitchen. "Do you like to play cards?" I heard her shout over the clatter of pans and dishes.
"Absolutely fascinating," I muttered. A good, swinging fast game of contract bridge, or whatever she had on her mind, would solve all my problems-in a pig's eye.
"Good?" She swept away my plate, and began to clear the table.
I patted my belly. "Fine. At least we're still eating well. As long as the dough holds out we'll survive."
She scatted me out and swept a large, linen cloth on the table. "Isn't that pretty?" She looked pleased with her efforts as she set cute ashtrays, candy dishes, glasses, and flowers on the table.
"The glasses look all right. Fill 'em up, cookie. And, who's coming?"
"You'll see. Go stare out the window, or something. Any minute now."
I did, pulling aside the drapes slightly. The sorority house was dark. The girls had given up the ship, I guessed resignedly. The flagpole, tall and silver-white caught my eye. Like the one in my dream, I thought, but without that big red knob on the end-with a slight cleft in the top, running down one side, I remembered now. I scratched my head, literally. The whole dream business was getting on my nerves. What was my subconscious trying to tell me?
"Get the door, sweet."
It was Harold and Hortense, he, rumple-haired with mischievous eyes, and she looking as haughty as ever. Yet I know it was just the way her face was put together. Down deep, where it counted, she was a passionate woman.
"Sport," he greeted me, making a little diving motion with his hand down below my waist. He laughed when I flinched back. "Touchy, touchy," he mocked, wagging a roguish finger at me.
He was right. A little fun never hurt anyone, I thought tritely. "OK, buddy!" I clapped him on the back and put one arm over his shoulder. The other I snaked around Hortie's slim waist. She giggled and pressed against me. I kicked the door shut and ambled out into the kitchen between the two of them.
"How come everybody is so goddamn friendly all of a sudden?" I joked.
"Objections?" asked Dilly. She swept up to Hortie, gave her a big smack, then did the same with Harold.
"Like it?" She stepped back and indicated the set table.
"Love it. Can't get enough." Harold lunged at her.
"Later, love." She skipped away to the refrigerator for mix and gin. While she and Hortie set us up, Harold and I took seats at the table and chewed the rag a bit.
"How's it going, lad?"
"Horrible. This should be my last week."
I drummed my fingers on the table in exasperation.
"You mean, classes?"
"That, and one teacher in particular."
"Oh, he's not so bad. Just a mite queer, you might say," he laughed.
"I just might-a little gay, too." I scrutinized his face. This about-face, after the previous warning about Denning, was rather puzzling.
Dilly and Hortie interrupted us with tall, cool gin-fizzes. I smacked my lips.
"Great. Well," guzzling half of it down, "bridge anyone?" If I could keep plenty of bubbly inside me I might be able to get through the night without trumping my partner's ace.
Harold choked and sputtered. Dilly pounded his back vigorously.
"Bridge, you said? Did I hear right?" He blinked the tears from his eyes and tried his best to keep his face straight. It was hopeless. He broke into uproarious laughter and banged his head up and down on the table.
"Hmpfh." I regarded him stonily.
Hortie sat beside me and took my head in her hands. She pulled my face down against the open neck of her blouse. She'd put a dab of perfume in there. The scent was pungent, and very, very nice. So was the soft, warm, doe-like skin of her neck and the cunning slope of her breast. I nuzzled my face way down and into the cleavage.
Her lips tugged at my ear lobe. "We didn't come here to play bridge."
I reached up quickly and unbuttoned the top two buttons. Her breasts were good-sized and very firm, bulging nicely against the lacy bra.
"To play?" I whispered hopefully, slipping my tongue into the deep cleavage.
"Poker! Strip!" and she pushed me away. "You'll have to earn, or win, any more." Her face was flushed with excitement, and the sparkle in her eyes promised bigger and better things.
"Can I cheat?" I asked, hopefully again.
"Patience, lad." Harold squeezed my leg.
I lost beautifully, and was stark naked in ten minutes. It had been fun, because it had been up to Hortie to strip me as we went along. She saved my ramrodded shorts till last, then drew them off with gentleness and an air that told me she savored every moment of it.
She held Big John in her two, small hands and blew a little kiss at him.
"Play cards!" scolded Dilly, but she had a smile on her face.
Harold woke up to his error and lost every hand until Dilly knelt before him and pulled off his jockey shorts. "Ummm, nice," she sighed.
I found myself getting irritated as I watched her deliberately kiss him.
"Play cards!" Two could play the game.
"Tosh, lad." He batted Big John gently.
A shiver crawled along my spine and exploded in my groin. "Harry," my voice cold as ice, "I don't dig that. Man to man? That's disgusting." I whirled in the seat and faced away, toward Hortie.
She grinned, and held her glass to my lips. "Dilly and I are still dressed....Isn't that shocking?"
"Horrible," I agreed. "Play cards!"
The girls were quicker than we had been. I swear it was rigged-wonderfully so.
They stood side by side, each in bra, panties, garter belt, and heels. "We quit. You two finish the job, if you're up to it."
We stepped up to them, I to Hortie, Harry to Dilly. My heart banged away like a rusty boiler, and Big John worked up a head of steam that threatened to blow any moment.
There was little to choose between the two. Hortie was taller, more flaring of hips, and her breasts were not quite as large as Dilly's. But the wild look in her eyes and the slight tremor that raced across her body as I unsnapped her bra and peeled it away told me I had a tiger on my hands.
Her tip-tilted breasts spronged upward, glad to be free of the confining bra. I could see the brownish nipples elongate and quiver slightly as I traced my fingers over the firm curves. Was she all blonde, like Dilly, I wondered? I slipped the scanties down quickly and discovered she wasn't.
"Disappointed?" she asked.
The curly, sparkling, black love-nest held my eye. I bent and brushed my lips in it. "Not a bit." Then, feverishly, I stripped her clean and naked.
"Let's sit at the table again," she said. "Winner's choice."
"Choice of what?"
"You'll see."
She and Harold sat opposite us and Dilly dealt the cards, her quick fingers manipulating the pack like an old pro. I swear she dealt off the bottom half the time. It was OK with me. We'd win this one.
Five card stud-showdown. I wound up with a bust only slightly better than Dilly's. The other two each had a high pair.
"Well I'll be!" I scowled at her.
She winked at me, then chuckled rather lewdly, her big, ripe tits bouncing up and down like firm, pink, candy-tipped cantaloupes.
"Winner's choice!" she shouted. "What'll it be?" Before she could get all the words out of her mouth, the others had slithered down in their chairs and vanished under the table.
I waited with anxiety. I knew what I wanted. Would she do it? Then the touch of sly fingers creeping up my legs, my thighs, and curling around my swollen penis set me to giggling.
"You're tickling, Hortie," I gasped.
"Don't peek. I don't want to be watched, not now. Rest your head on the table and just relax," she crooned.
I laid my head down on my arm, facing Dilly. I tried to grin at her, to answer her contented smile but it was impossible. The strong fingers juggled and cupped my testicles and stroked the soft skin, then skittered up and down Big John like so many fireflies in love, leaving delicious, stinging, little needles in their wake.
There it stopped. I waited and felt the muscles in my stomach and legs strain and knot with tension. Strong fingers slid roughly under my buttocks, and then it happened. The kiss to end all kisses!
I flashed out one hand and grabbed Dilly's. She was going through the same passionate turmoil as I. We looked at each other through glazed eyes, not really knowing anyone or anything, except one-the maddening and voracious clinging, pulling and sucking under the table.
I raced to the end. I was completely unable to do anything about it, to stop the catapulting rush over the brink.
I doubled over when it happened, and caught the head between my straining thighs. I wanted to hold it there, to empty myself into the greedy flesh cavern. It was unnecessary. The strong fingers dug almost painfully into my buttocks and one of them seared my rectum with a jabbing, encouraging probe. I fell limp across the table, just shaking and quivering.
Dimly, I felt a gentle patting and the mumble of soothing words. Then a last slithering of a wet, warm tongue. I blacked out.
"Drink up, love." Dilly held the glass to my lips and Hortie was standing behind me now, cradling the back of my head to her tits. I reached back and squeezed her leg. "What a dame, what a technique."
Dilly pouted and shoved the drink into my face. I swilled it down, every drop of it. The pulsing glow spread through me quickly and brought new life to me.
Harold leaned nonchalantly against the side of the table, idly stroking his hairy belly. I noticed his flaccidity. I grinned. "D'ja have a little, Harry?"
He smiled broadly, "It was heaven, lad."
CHAPTER EIGHT
I thought beaded curtains, long strings of beads, close-packed, and suspended from the ceiling, went out with the Victorian era, or were reserved for Chinatown. All we needed now was a bang from a resonant gong, and the pungent smell of incense. I listened. Silence. I smelled. There it was-faint, but exotic, a tangy, spicy smell that conjured up visions of opium dens, and the dreams thereof. "Please."
I jumped half out of my skin. Not a sound had I heard. I whirled, and spotted her against the yellow wall, the saffron robe she wore blending softly with her skin and the wall itself.
Dilly bowed low. "We are here, Mary," she said in a hushed voice. I followed suit awkwardly, wondering why all the formality. Dilly must have read my mind. "Atta boy. You won't be sorry," she whispered.
"Is there anything around here you haven't fixed up, or at least dipped a finger into?"
No answer. She didn't have to, though. I had smelled a rat sometime before this, but never a complaint from me. So far, all the rats had been candy, and honey-coated.
I swung up and saw Dilly glide off to the left, through another beaded curtain-red. I started to follow.
"No. This way." Mary slipped her cool ringers around my hand and led me off to the right-green. For go, I hoped.
It wasn't quite what I had in mind as I swept my puzzled eyes over the commode, sink, and bathtub.
"Heh, heh," I laughed, rather feebly, I suppose. 'Took a wrong turn. Right?" I smiled in a very friendly fashion and started to back out.
She was quicker. There was a door I hadn't seen, swung flat against the wall. She swung it the other way-shut. And locked it. She dropped the key in a little beaded basket hanging from the wall.
I shrugged. What next? Then I watched silently as she ran water in the large tub. It was really a thing of beauty, jade-green, slope-sided, and large enough for two. From bottles she took from a cabinet she sudsed and perfumed the steamy water, then colored it pink.
She spoke finally. "Strip." Her almond eyes looked at me deadpan, or did I see a flicker of interest, of laughter? My eyes swept down the pretty, doll-like face, the swan-neck, and the saffron robe. I tried to visualize her figure, but the robe was loose and voluminous, covering her to the tips of her tiny, lacquered toenails.
I showed her I could be just as talkative. "OK." I peeled off all my clothes.
Big John hung his head modestly in such a subdued, almost clinical atmosphere. If she noticed, she ignored it. With a graceful sweep of her hand, she motioned for me to get into the tub.
I did, and slid down into it slowly, luxuriously. Lassitude stole over me quickly, and I lay back in sheer laziness. My eyes closed, but then opened quickly at the whisper of rustling clothing.
Bang! Bang! went the old ticker, and Big John poked his knobby, red head above the water.
She stepped in daintily and stood smiling. "You like?" She fluttered her arms, wrists, and fingers in oriental dancing style. She teased the apple-tight breasts and brought the dark nipples into active, quivering life. Down fluttered her fingers, over the sweetly curving belly, then they hovered like trembling moths over the spun, ebnoy silk of her sex. Two fingers darted in and spread the lotus-pink lips. The quivering stamen, the core of her passion, budded softly, a tiny tongue of love.
She caught my eye, "You like?"
I nodded. Then rose to my feet as she motioned. For the next few minutes I was soaped and caressed to a point of titillation far beyond my dreams. I shut my eyes and groaned, trying to delay the inevitable. When she knelt and did wonderful things with those hands and fingers, my hands automatically went to her head. I had to have this, and I pulled gently, but firmly on her shell-like ears.
"No." She twisted away and finished the soaping and rinsing without any further byplay. I stood shaking and trembling with frustration. I talked soothingly, urgently, even-angrily. She ignored me.
Grumpily, I hopped out of the tub and grabbed one of the great, fluffy towels. I dried myself briskly, taking out my frustration on my hide until I was the color of a lobster. I heard her giggle behind my back, and I turned slowly, twisting the towel into a thick wet rope. I was ready to belt her.
She stepped lithely to the edge of the tub, and stood poised-for takeoff. With an agile spring of her firm muscles, she vaulted toward me with spread thighs. I fell back against the wall as her slippery weight hit me.
She wrapped her arms and legs around me like wet snakes. Her face burrowed into my neck and her teeth bit sharply into my skin. My hands cupped her tight, squirming buttocks and lifted them up and out-just enough. We paused, adjusting.
She plunged onto me with explosive force, the muscles of her tail bulging out in ridging curves. She shot up and down on me with lightning speed and sledgehammer force.
THE END came on me like a runaway truck. I barrelled down the stretch and shot my load with a burst of energy that sent us both crashing to the floor.
She was up, dried and out of the room before life really returned to me. I dressed and walked out quickly myself. From the room where I knew Dilly was I heard suspiciously familiar noises. I parted the beads slightly and saw the two of them. My eyes bugged out, and I rattled the beads like dried leaves in a hurricane.
She was performing a very special service for him, and enjoying herself beyond all reason. I glared at them until I could stand it no longer.
I clomped away on iron shoes. The door about took off the wall when I slammed it behind me. The idea of returning to the apartment right now wasn't appealing so I stepped down to the coffee shop. Frankie and his shadow were sure to be there, but what the hell. They had a right to live, too, didn't they?
Apparently they did. When I walked in, they were living it up in great style. Frankie was skipping around the tables and behind the counter, chasing Stewie and trying to goose him with the long wooden handle of a salad fork. They laughed, giggled, and even screeched, especially when Stewie slowed down enough to let Frankie fire for effect.
I scowled momentarily. It didn't look right. I turned to go out.
"Don't go." Stewie, love in his big brown eyes, fastened his gaze on me.
"Hot coffee, fresh, and brand new doughnuts?" put in Frankie. He smiled broadly at me.
Like I said. What the hell. They could do worse than chase each other around. I thawed out. "OK, you talked me into it."
Frankie brought the doughnuts, half a dozen soft, frosted ones, and Stewie, the coffee. We were alone in the place and they sat down with me, Stewie beside me, and Frankie just across.
"Been having a ball this week?" Frankie's eyes were wide and innocent-looking.
I crammed a whole doughnut in my mouth, and chewed diligently while I thought. Here was another one who seemed to know something I didn't. How come? I swashed a hot mouthful of coffee around, then cleared my throat.
"OK." Noncommittal.
His knees touched mine and he rubbed slowly, deliberately, at the same time winking boldly at Stewie. I felt the stealthy movement as Stewie slid my way ever so slowly. Frankie's hand was on my knee. I could have stopped either one of them with a belt on the head or simply just left the joint.
I didn't. We were still alone. I'd heard a lot through the years about the gay ones. Who hasn't? How far would they really go if you let them? Curiosity was overiding my normal compunctions.
I sipped slowly at the coffee and let nature take its course. I knew they'd have a helluva time getting a rise out of me anyway-I thought. Silence lay heavy. I said nothing. They uttered not a word.
Frankie's hand crept up my leg while with the other hand he doodled on a paper napkin. He hummed a silly little tune, and, from time to time, cast shy glances at me through his long lashes.
Stewie was a nervous wreck. He edged even closer, pressing his whole body against me. I could feel him shake like a leaf.
'What are you shaking for?" he asked slyly. I sputtered and began to deny it, but the coffee sloshing out of the cup in my hand made me a liar. "Coffee nerves, not enough sleep, or something," I mumbled.
"Or something," Frankie said, an avaricious, predatory look in his eyes that sent the goose-bumps racing up and down my spine. He nodded to Stewie. "Go ahead. Your treat."
Stewie gasped, his eyes wide with delight. He whispered in my ear. "Did you know we were homosexuals?"
"No!" That jarred me to my senses. What else was new?
"Well, we are," he became more confidential. "I know it sounds silly, but he hesitated.
I turned toward him craftily, sensing his weakness. I tweaked his upper thigh and got a surprise. He might be a kid, but he was a man where it counted.
His voice shook as he said, "I hear you're the biggest man around. Have you got the guts to prove it?"
"Hell, yes. Doesn't take any guts to wave it around a bit." I broke all records for fly unzipping.
"Good Lord!" He bent his head way down to see under the table.
It must have been the coffee, or a lousy doughnut. I blacked out momentarily. When I came to, they were gone. I was the only one in the shop. Big John prodded manfully against the bottom of the table top and I ached and ached down there. Apparently, nothing had happened, except that my mood had changed. I felt crummy again, headache, the shakes, all that. Touch of the flu, I guessed.
When I could, I left. I prowled the lower floor and outside, but they were nowhere to be seen. A couple of the girls from Sigma Sigma were just going up the walk to the house. They stopped when they saw me, then waved, and started to walk quickly across the lawn toward me, broad smiles on their faces. I beat it. It was getting late anyway.
I passed a door that was slightly ajar on the way to the stairs. They made no effort to keep their voices low, in fact, seemed to be arguing. I recognized Stewie's voice. Sounded as though he were going to cry-poor kid.
"Well, why not? He wanted me to. You know that."
"You know damn well why not. Maybe later, next week, I dunno. But we do know he's ready-primed."
"You said it!"
One of them kicked the door shut and I scampered on up the stairs, my ears burning from what I had heard. It could only have been me they were discussing. I stumbled into the room in a fog.
"About time." Dilly lay flat on the bed on her back, shoes off, and wiggling her toes lazily. She looked so relaxed and contented I expected her to purr at any moment. She licked her lips, and said, "Purrr."
"Oh, shut up." At least she had coffee on. I poured a mug of the stuff and drank it down in a couple of swallows, hot and black.
"Mary said you were quite the lover-boy, a mite impatient, but quite adequate."
"Thanks a lot-and how was Sam?" I spit out the words at her like bullets.
"Lovely, love, a tasty dish, I must say."
"Don't talk that way," I growled. I began to undress. There was nothing I wanted right now but sleep. If only I didn't have that dream again....
Thursday passed uneventfully, but the minutes and hours stole by on leaden feet. Again, I stayed away from classes. Why bother? I was in and out of the coffee shop most of the day, but I'll be damned if I could see hide or hair of the boys.
When I asked Dilly, after supper, what was on tap for the night, she looked at me in surprise.
"Gee, hon, we can't do stuff every night. I'm tired. Aren't you? I thought maybe we could read a bit, make some popcorn and watch TV. How's that sound?"
"Peachy-dandy. Where's the gin?"
"There's a brand new fifth of Southern Comfort in the cupboard. Pour us a good one-on the rocks."
I broke the seal and sniffed appreciatively. "Long time no smell. A little expensive. Where'd you get it?" I used tall glasses and only a couple of ice cubes.
She took hers and we curled up on the sofa in front of the boob-tube.
"It was a gift. Wasn't that nice?" She snuggled up to me, and put my free hand around her, cupping her breast with it.
"Who from?"
'I'll never tell," she giggled.
I wrapped my fingers around the firm flesh and shook it. "OK." I sipped long and slow at the sweet brandy. The hot apricot glow flowed and buzzed through my nerve centers. A gentle euphoria spread over me. "Hey, uh, what the hell is going on?"
"Huh?"
"I'm totally confused lately. I don't know whether I'm coming or going."
She snuggled even closer, and lay her head on my shoulder. "Don't fret, pet. It'll all come out in the wash."
It didn't-that night. We killed the jug and fell asleep on the couch.
D-Day arrived. It was a lovely Friday morning. The sun shone and the birds twittered. I stretched, yawned, belched, and fell off the couch. I'd get coffee and a doughnut at the shop downstairs. I moved out swiftly, Dilly still sacked out, and made a bee-line for the stairs. I stopped quickly on the first step, and let my stomach catch up to me. The hangover was a beaut.
Frankie and Stewie were not around. Instead there was some dumb blonde with a face full of teeth. She slopped coffee into my cup and slapped a doughnut on my plate.
I sat through Denning's class grimly. He handed us the grades as we filed out. I crammed it into my pocket and stalked out on to the next class. Same deal with that, and the next one. Two to go. They were Tuesday-Thursday classes. I could pick them up in the administration building.
That was that. Goodbye ten grand. I walked back into our coffee shop at ten and crawled into a seat in the back corner. I'd hardly touched my tail to the chair when Frankie and Stewie waltzed up to me bearing a tray with a pot of steaming coffee and all sorts of goodies.
"May we?" Frankie set the tray down gently. I nodded, and they slid in beside me.
I put an arm on each of their shoulders. 'That's it, boys." I pulled out the grade papers, unfolded them, then slapped them down on the table, one by one.
Every one, save the last, was an A. The last, Denning's, said Incomplete. At the bottom his beautiful handwriting bore the cryptic message, "My apt. at eleven this morning."
I said nothing, nothing at all about the A's, or the message. I couldn't speak. Every fiber and nerve in my body was paralyzed. I felt a consoling pat-pat on my shoulders and foggily watched them leave and go out the door.
The papers crammed back into my pockets, I headed after them. They were going the same place I was. I knew.
Dilly opened the door of Denning's apartment for me. She was stark naked and grinning like a Cheshire cat. "Ain't I the operator, though. It was fun, too. It's easy to get good grades. A roll in the hay for an A, for my lover-boy."
I nodded. "And all this teasing this week?" I walked in and shut the door softly.
She nodded. "Right, switch-hitter."
"Tell me more?" I frowned.
"In a minute." She took my hand and led me into the bedroom. There were two king-size double beds. Pearl sat on the edge of one, watching the action on the other. I didn't blame her. It was wild.
Four naked, gleaming male bodies, three white, and one black, all writhing and twisting and fusing into the most complicated and exciting love knot I'd ever seen. I began to sweat and shake and felt myself inch toward them.
Dilly stopped me. "Remember Camille and how she blew you, and Hortie, under the table?"
"So?" I was half out of my clothes. She grinned wickedly. "It was Pierre and Harold. We're all switch-hitters in this apartment. Aren't we?" She whispered, 'Ten grand worth?"
I nodded, and stepped out of my shorts. Denning lifted his head "Ready for your A+, Johnny?" he grinned.
I dove headlong for the bed.
CHAPTER NINE
Monday morning was cut day again. I know I was a freshman and cuts were severely frowned upon, but what the hell . ... How many other freshmen got all A's in every subject but one-and A+ in that one?
Yes sir, I could see now that I was really college material. And to think all the others slaved away like the peasants they were. Well, we couldn't all be endowed with the proper tools of learning.
It was eleven now. The place was quiet. Dilly was apparently out pussyfooting around someplace. Doing research for one of my term papers I assumed.
After a long, nasty and satisfied chuckle, I sat up leisurely in the bed. I could see the kitchen, all set for a little breakfast for me, and the coffeepot sizzling nicely on the little hotplate. I stretched, yawned, and pushed myself lazily out into the kitchen. There, on the table, beside the bowl of Wheaties, with its sliced bananas and strawberries, was a little note for me.
Bless her conniving little heart! I could see us growing old together-in the old rocking chair by the fireplace, steaming mugs of cider laced with lots and lots of good booze, the three of us in the chair, rocking back and forth, she perched on my lap, facing me, well-pinned by Big John, who, I was sure, would outlast the two of us.
"Good-morning, love. Sleep well? Goodies on the table. Heavy cream in the fridge for your coffee. I'm researching, as you probably guessed. He's a prince of a fellow. Has the cutest little wife . ... And, oh yes, a phone call from the dean's office. They would like to see you sometime this week. Is that good?"
"Hmm." I stirred a generous amount of cream into the coffee, then popped a juicy strawberry into my mouth.
Was it good? What the hell did the dean want from me? A testimonial? A speech to aspiring students? My chuckle faded away as I felt the first rewards of being the complete phony.
I glared at the simpleton staring at me from the mirror over the sink. "You're stupid, idiot. You got all A's, no thanks to you, though ... and now what?"
He shrugged and went back to his cereal. Half an hour later saw me down at the dean's office. I was ushered quickly into the inner sanctum.
The dean wasn't there yet.
Two other people were.
Trixie, my platinum blonde.
Stewart Love, one of my bunny-boys from Friday night.
I grinned bravely and then whistled softly what I could remember of Chopin's Funeral March. They regarded me with kindness, amused glances dancing smugly on their lips.
"Well, brave ones?" I stood waiting in the center of the room. I was all alone now I knew. Big John couldn't help me now.
Stewart lounged back comfortably in a large, leather chair right by the desk, and Trixie sat perched on the edge of the swivel chair behind the desk.
"Big John, as I live and breathe." Trixie gave me a nice big smile, and spun around and around like a dervish.
"Big John," Stewie echoed in a silken whisper.
"John Doe to you two-in here," I snapped. "Now pray tell me. Here we all are on the carpet in here. I can guess why. Somebody spilled the beans and we're about to go down for the count. Who's the fink?"
"You," Trixie chuckled. "You couldn't hide a thing."
I looked down quickly.
"No, not him, idiot. You. You had to go and outdo the two of us."
Stewie sat up suddenly. "Your father's coming, Trixie."
She stopped whirling and just sat, watching the door.
I sat, with a soft squish, my rubber legs turning to water. Her father now? Paternity suit about to blossom? Where did Stewie fit in? I doubted if he had ever gotten in.
The door swung open and a heavyset, middle-aged man, with the stamp of authority all over him, walked briskly to the desk.
"Up-kitten." He jerked his thumb.
She stuck out her tongue, but got up hastily as he raised a warning hand. She skedaddled to the couch beside me, snuggling up real close, and he ensconced himself behind the desk.
"I'm Dean Manly," he beamed at me.
"Hello, Dean Manly," I heard a froggy voice croak. He continued looking right at me, so I guessed I was the frog.
He nodded, then turned to Trixie. "How much time do we have? You know, before it starts. I suppose I should know, but all my other work has kept me fearfully busy."
"Friday night."
He frowned. "That's not very long, at least for the two of you." He nodded toward Stewie. "Mr. Doe, I imagine, is ready right now. I'll bet he could keep the name of this school in the headlines all by himself. What about that, Mr. Doe?" He smiled confidentially then "Completely by yourself, of course. Trixie has told me some rather wild tales about this, ah, genie of yours."
"Genie?" I knew by this time my eyeballs showed Tilt. What in whatever was going on?
"Why, yes. A convenient figment of the imagination, I'm sure, an innate trait of modesty, so as to dim your powers before others. Big John, I think she called him, a sort of mythical Paul Bunyan character."
"Big John? Mythical?" I knew I looked the dummy, but I had no choice. I was elected.
He grinned. "Some monstrous fellow, with a huge red head," she said.
I creaked my neck and looked at her.
She winked at the question in my eyes. "Oh, I didn't tell daddy everything...."
I sighed the sigh of relief of the century. "I gather this is a friendly meeting."
"It couldn't be more so. Let me tell you all about it."
"Yes, you go right ahead. I'm all ears." He smiled, got up, and walked to the window which looked out on the green expanse of the campus.
Trixie snaked her hand into my lap and grabbed a handful.
"All ears?" she whispered. "Liar."
She removed her hand just as her father turned to face us. He paced about the room as he talked, hands clasped behind him, and a very smug smile on his face.
"You've seen these quiz-downs, or whatever they call them on TV? Where two groups of students from competing colleges vie for correct answers to brain-twisting questions? The kids are brilliant, walking encyclopedias. The cream of the crop. Our school had never entered-until this year. Never had enough really bright ones. Three were needed for the panel."
The heat of Trixie's thigh was beginning to sink through my bones. I shifted closer and managed to slip my hand under her sweet but while he yakked on and on about the glory that could be, would be, theirs.
So what? I couldn't care less. My hear leaped just then as Trixie lifted her hot seat just enough-just enough for my horny fingers to slide in under her skirt. She settled then unobtrusively I'm sure, because her old man was still all fired up.
With my thumb, I drove her silky panties a full two inches up her sweet tail. The old index finger just twirled and skittered over her lovely and wet slit while I waited for him to look out the window again, or something.
It was or something.
My fingers froze as he said with a wild shriek of triumph, "So, that's Stewart, Trixie, and you, John Doe. Our brain-trust panel. The group to bring home the bacon."
He stared me full in the eye, pinning me to the sofa, like some hapless bug. It's a damn good thing his eyes didn't shift down. He would have seen something that sure as hell was no figment of the imagination.
"How about that?" He smiled again.
"Yeah, how about that," some simpering idiot said.
He clapped his hands in satisfaction. "Well, you're all dismissed now. You may leave, or you can stay a moment if you wish. I have a conference at the engineering building. Trixie will fill you in." He patted my shoulder on the way out. "Good heavens, all A's and an A+. You're incredible, young man-you and your genie."
I watched him walk out and the door close. I shut my eyes and began the countdown. The world was about to blow up again-permanently, this time.
"I'd rather you filled me in," she said. Her hand searched for the tab of my zipper. She found it finally and screeched it down. "Lock the door, Stewie."
I never saw a lad move so fast. Honestly, he was simply a symphony in blur, his Cheshire cat smile floating in his wake like the tail of a comet. Speed? Warp eight, I think-for you science-fiction buffs.
So there he sat on the other side of me. It's nice to have people so nice and friendly, but, dammit, I knew it wasn't me they wanted.
"I'm not going to do it," I said firmly, my eyes still shut tightly.
"Let's see," she mused. "You had a time limit for something else not too long ago. Of course, it was a little long for what I had in mind...."
"What's that?" I opened my eyes.
"This is Monday, so we'll let you have till Friday morning. Say, at noon, when the last gong sounds on the campus bell."
"Go to hell," I said clearly, and succinctly.
"Door locked, Stewie?" she asked.
"I should say," he gushed.
"All right, then. We have at least a half hour. Dad has the only key. Take off all your clothes, Johnny."
"Are you insane?"
"Not a bit. We're just going to persuade you, aren't we, Stewie."
"Oh ... yes!"
I levelled with them. "Look. I'm a complete phony. My A's mean nothing. They are all a gift."
They looked at me skeptically. "How come?"
"Well...." What the hell could I say now? That Dilly had used her very evident charm to seduce all these profs, and that I had finally succumbed to Denning's wiles? It would take a rat to do that.
The rat spit it out with gnashing teeth. I told them exactly what had happened.
"You lie," she said.
"How horrid!" he said.
"So help me," I said, and made the sign of the Boy Scout's oath.
"Give me the names of all the professors," she said.
I did.
She called them all, one by one, including Ladyfingers Denning. With cunning guile, she attempted to get them to admit to any chicanery. They refused, to a man. Very calmly, their jobs and reputations at stake, they informed her of the undoubted intellectual brilliance of one John Doe.
She laid the phone down softly, tenderly-a kiss of death.
"You rat," she said.
"I was cornered," I said, "I did what any rat would do."
"But to your wife...."
"Stewie," I said desperately, "Friday night. Remember? Denning's apartment?"
"I'll never forget," he sighed.
"Well ... well. Surely you know all about Denning. Why he's a queen from way back."
"Oh, he is! He is!" He sighed rapturously.
"Don't you know how I got an A+ from him?"
He looked cross now. "Nobody, just nobody ever gets anything free from him. You have to work for it and show him you've got what it takes."
"That's what I mean."
He was frosty now. "Oh, stop bragging, Johnny. You'll have chance enough to show your stuff on Friday. All I know is we did have just oodles of fun Friday night."
Trixie butted in. "I'm tired of waiting. Get your clothes off, John. We haven't much time. Stewie and I have a little game we want to play."
"No." I crossed my arms on my chest and put on my firm upper lip.
She opened her mouth wide and said the word rape softly. Then she smiled. "You want to hear how loud I can really say it?"
I said no again and began to undress.
The two of them stood beaming and just hopping up and down in anticipation. Trixie had her skirt pulled up to her waist and was beating up a batch of fudge and Stewie held that long boa-constrictor of his in his hands, ready for business.
"Okay." I folded my arms again and stood spraddle-legged. "Do your worst."
"Shut your eyes tight," she said.
I shrugged. What the hell.
"We're going to take turns. You guess who it is. I'll bet you can't."
I gritted my teeth and Big John zoomed up into the proper azimuth at just the thought of what was about to happen.
I heard them whisper and giggle for what seemed to be an interminably long time.
"All right. All right. Get it over with. Get your kicks, kiddies." I picked my teeth idly while I waited. After all, it wasn't me they wanted.
Then I climbed the rafters as sly hands fondled my joy-bags and stroked the base of the jutting tree-trunk. I was halfway through the roof when somebody swallowed Big John's head. Wonderful, wonderful, I thought. The suction increased and a hot, puckered serpent lapped and slurped all around his smooth, bald head.
I heard the quick shuffle of footsteps, then hands were placed on my buttocks, pushing me over. I bent willingly. Kisses of fire, molten and sweet, burned my backside. Insistent fingers spread my cheeks and the kisses got more intimate. A rough and eager tongue began its work and I blew through the roof.
Behind, and in front, they worked on me. The sky got pink, then red, then purple. One more shade....
They stopped and scurried away.
I wailed, and opened my eyes. I whirled to where they sat on the couch. "Speaking of rats!"
"Well," she gloated, licking her lips slyly, "are you on the panel Friday?"
Stewie just sat there dreaming, away in never-never land.
"That's not fair." Big John and I walked over to the couch and stood glaring at her.
She saw the hurt look in our eyes, and felt sorry for us.
"Okay this time, but remember." She wagged a warning finger at me. She raised herself, pulled up the skirt, and slid the drenched panties off.
"Who was on which end a moment ago?" I asked.
"You mean you couldn't tell?" They both laughed. Stewie piped up with, "See? It doesn't really matter, does it?"
I growled at him and climbed onto the couch. "Silence now, from the two of you," I said. I spread her legs wide and lowered myself to her.
"Easy, easy," she whispered. 'There, there, just a little more ... umfh ... that's it! Ahh!"
Big John slid in all the way, through the slickened, heated folds of her skin. Our pelvic bones jarred together and Big John swelled and swelled until I thought we'd both burst.
"Move!" she hissed. She began to shove up and down. Her hands went between us and fondled my love-apples. A hot, stiff finger smoked up my rectum and I flew into action.
"Hey." Quiet, but insistent. It was Stewie, kneeling naked on the couch, very close to me. His ramming, redheaded rod aimed itself square at me.
My lower motion stopped with a jolt, the flush faded from my face.
"Hey. Hey." Trixie looked at me crossly. She bumped and lunged against me.
Stewie moved closer, a diabolical grin on his face.
"You really want it, don't you?" he insisted.
I shook my head desperately. If I did, I wouldn't admit it. Friday night had been a queer night, all right, but the others had been the aggressive ones. I had just lain there and let them consume me.
He lunged and rammed the hot, rounded, silky thing against my lips.
I screamed. I know I did. It must have been me. The thin high-pierced wailing shattered my eardrums and brought hurried footsteps and a sudden pounding at the door.
CHAPTER TEN
It wasn't until seven that night that Dilly returned. She breezed into the apartment, looking as fresh as the proverbial daisy.
I was sitting by the large window, supposedly reading the local newspaper, but really keeping my eye peeled out the window, and across to the sorority house. No luck yet, and I was so frustrated I had bitten my nails clear down to my wrists.
She tossed her handbag on the bed and began to unbutton her dress. The creamy, white swells emerged and glistened in the lamplight.
"Ha!" I dropped the paper and got to my feet.
"I wondered if you were alive, or just sitting there vegetating. Here. You might find this interesting." She tossed me a small newspaper.
"You, too, may go to hell, dear." I smiled sweetly and caught the paper deftly-in my teeth. I dropped it into the chair, and then helped her take off the dress.
"You're lovely," I breathed softly. "My little Swiss miss-apple-cheeked, buxom blondie." I pressed my lips to the deep valley between her breasts. "Mmm."
"I was beginning to think you had forgotten little old me." She slid a hand between us. She smiled hugely as her hand was filled suddenly. "He still likes me!"
"Natch." I reached around to unfasten her bra. "No."
"Listen, wife...!"
"Don't wife me, you ... you intellectual, you! Go read your publicity while you can. The next time you read about yourself and him it won't be quite so enjoyable. Anyway, I have to get dressed and washed. So do you. We have a date tonight." She stalked off into the bathroom, her lovely rounded butt switching angrily.
"Honestly, I didn't have a thing to do with it," I protested. "Hell, you had as much to do with it as I did-even more." It was a nasty crack, but I was beginning to feel nasty.
She growled something, then turned on the shower full force. I gave up and sat back down. I picked up the paper dispiritedly and glanced at the front page.
The top half was headlines and lead. Below, some campus artist had drawn a cartoon of us.
I read, stunned.
"Brain Trust to be headed by John Doe and Big John!" Then it went on to tell about the panel show and the glory that would be ours-they were sure.
The cartoon was a pip: there I sat, folded-legged like an Indian mystic, in a white robe, huge-headed (like some Martian monster) and owl-eyed. I was beckoning to a towering, rather evilly-grinning genie lurking in a cloud of purple smoke on the horizon. And he did have that huge red head Dean Manly had spoken of.
I dropped the paper weakly and stared unseeing out the window. If we got out of this one it would be the trick of the century. Goodbye once again, oh ten-grand. Once again, I cursed the world in general, and myself specifically. Why did I have to be burdened with such a handicap?
Dilly came prancing out shortly. She padded wetly and naked toward me while she rubbed her fair skin with the towel. Her smile now was soft and loving.
"Don't fret, pet. Just hurry and get dressed. Tie, suit, all that jazz. We haven't much time." She ran the towel between her legs and quickly dried all that sparkling, blonde fluff. Her tits swayed delightfully-rounded, white spheres, capped with long, red points. I felt him stir in my lap and start to poke at the zipper.
She saw him. 'That's nice," she smiled. "Better calm him down, though. It's not going to be that kind of a night. Want to know where we're going, or would you rather be surprised?"
I unfolded myself and got up. "Surprise me. I dare you."
Ten minutes later we were walking briskly down the main drag. There was a fair crowd out, sauntering leisurely in the cool evening air. A darn friendly bunch, too. Quite frequently, they waved, smiled, and even patted us on the shoulder. I began to feel better. It's nice to be in a friendly town and have perfect strangers be so-well, almost affectionate.
"Nice place-Busby." I put my hand in the crook of her arm and squeezed lovingly.
"Take a walk down this same street Saturday night."
"Bah! I don't care."
"Okay. We'll see."
We walked silently for several minutes. The stores left off and we were in the better residential area-larger, stone houses; iron fences; well-kept lawns; all that jazz. I was impressed.
"Do you know someone here?" I asked.
"You'll see," still keeping her little secret. Another minute and she led us through a gate, up a walk, and up the long, long steps of one of those swanky houses.
"Who lives here?"
"You'll see." She pressed the gong.
As the last melodious chime sounded somewhere within the far recesses of the mansion, the door swung briskly open. A character in soup-and-fish bowed slightly and said, "Please enter. They're waiting."
We followed old frozen-face down the long, dm, oak-paneled hall, across an entry room of some sort, with its settees, little tables, dark and dreary pictures, and one-hundred-foot ceiling. As our heels tap-tapped on the gleaming floor and echoed eerily in the wasteland, I began to feel the butterflies massing for an attack on my gut.
I whispered hoarsely to Dilly, behind my palm and into one pink little ear, "What in the name of blue-murder have you gotten us into now? This is one of those monster houses from a grade-B movie. Who's waiting? Vincent Price? Good old Boris?"
"Don't fret, pet. Good old John will save you. He always has, hasn't he?"
"Thank you."
We were there. A large dining room, a table set for ten and eight people at it. The head and the foot positions waiting with gleaming china and bright silver.
There were four of each-male and female, all middle-aged to downright senile-looking. They all looked up from their brisk chatter and cocktail glasses as we were announced. I looked for a familiar face and found one. Dean Manly, and positively beaming when he saw us.
The butler continued sonorously: "Mr. and Mrs. John Doe, and, ah...." looking back at us rather witheringly, "one Big John."
A great round of applause broke out. Dean Manly sprang to his feet. He raised high his glass.
"Toast!"
"Hear ye! Hear ye!" They acclaimed, raising their glasses.
He waved his glass way high, managing to dribble a few potent drops on his bald pate, and shouted, "To Big John!"
They drank with gusto, smacking their lips and rapping down the glasses. Dean Manly waved us up to the head of the table.
"You've really done it now, haven't you?" I whispered to her savagely.
"It does look a little that way, doesn't it?" She managed a quick, ghastly smile at me.
My heart went out to her. I knew damn well now-no matter what, no matter how all this insanity turned out-fifty years from now would find us (all three of us) in that old rocking-chair in front of the fireplace.
"How the devil did you find out about this dinner? Did you arrange it?" I asked hopefully.
She shook her head dolefully. "I met Trixie and her father on the street just before I came home. They told me then."
Good old Trixie-I wondered how she'd look boiled in oil, skewered on a telephone pole. She started all this with that idiotic tale to her old man. When I saw her again ...!
Dean Manly clapped his hands in playful and chiding impatience. "Come, come now. You can forego the modesty. Here, John-you sit here at the head of the table, and you, Dilly, is it? Way at the other end."
He eyed her busty eighteen-year-old figure with very obvious appreciation. I could see she had dressed correctly for the occasion. Just as well, every little bit of help would be welcome.
It was a tea dress, but I swear she must have chopped the skirt herself. It was better than halfway to heaven, right on the upper fringes of the dark seam of her stockings. Her shoulders were bare, the beautiful, clear skin crossed by a thin, black band of strap. The neck was square and very, very deep. I could see she was wearing that half-bra which just shoved her big tits up and out (unnecessary in her case). I knew if she ever bent over they would fall right out.
"Lovely, my dear," bending over so that he could peer down the front of her dress. She bent at the same time to help him out.
One of the old gentlemen about that time dropped his fork. He was the longest time picking it up. He searched and scrabbled around on the floor with shaking hands until I thought he'd have a fit. He'd have found it a lot sooner if he had looked on the floor-instead of up Dilly's dress.
"Would one of you gentlemen escort the young lady to her seat?"
Grandpa Grunt down on the floor shot up with the alacrity of a ballet dancer.
"The pleasure is mine," he wheezed. He was short, several inches shorter than Dilly, and his bulging eyeballs were on a dead-level line with two of the biggest, firmest tits he'd ever seen in his life.
I swear he fell over every single chair before he managed to get her down there, and when she bent over to sit down he fainted dead away. They threw water on his face, slapped him, and chafed his wrists. I could hear him all the way up to my end of the table through all the commotion.
"My God! What a pair of tits!" He slapped away the solicitous throng and lurched to his feet. He staggered out of the room with a sly smile that would have shamed the Mona Lisa.
Dean Manly heh-heh'd to cover up his embarrassment. "Dean Ozer, head of the science school, specialist in ornithology. Tits are his favorites."
"Tits?" I heh-heh'd too.
"Oh, you know, those lovely, little feathered creatures-soft, cuddly, sweet."
"Yes, well." I indicated the place setting in front of me.
"By all means. You must be starved."
I sat, finally, and proceded to stuff myself with food and drink. The condemned man and all that jazz. I don't think I drank more than I should. I should have drunk myself under the table-flat out, then I wouldn't have done what I did do not too much later.
A few questions were bunted to me, and, with the help of a stuffed mouth every time, I managed to bat at least five-hundred. It must have been about the fifth or sixth glass of wine (some heavy-handed idiot kept filling my glass) that I noticed what was happening.
I held up the rose-colored glass and squinted at all the ladies in all the chairs at my end of the table. They assumed fantastic shapes and hues, but they all had that one thing in common, no matter how I held the glass. They were females, most of them old enough to be my mother, but the god of wine had chopped years, wrinkles, and pounds from each.
I peered over the edge of the glass down to the far end of the table. I counted three men, including Dean Manly. Professor Ozer was missing. I swore I had seen him return to the room some time ago. Perhaps he was still looking for his fork.
I dropped my own, and peered down past the silken-clad legs. There he sat, just inches from her spread legs. Ornithologist was he! More like a pussy-watcher! Then she did the most shocking thing. I saw her hand reach down and pat his head. Then that hand pulled the skirt completely up to her waist.
I began to drool, myself, at the sight of her long, tapered legs, the black garter bands over her white, full thighs, and the little bit of lace covering her hips. She scrooched up just a bit and his gnarled old hands snaked forward with amazing speed.
Zip! They were off. He pressed them to his face, and I could hear his moan of ecstasy clear down to where I was.
She tapped him again, and sat, sliding way, way down, with her shameless legs spread wide, wide. She tapped him again, and he buried his face in that golden muff.
I watched for just a moment longer. The seeds of anger and jealousy began to sprout in my fogged brain.
A tapping at my own shoulder whipped me around. The lady to my left, a Mrs. Hor-lick, if I remember correctly, a rather plump, but still quite shapely redhead about forty, stroked my head. I grinned and squeezed her hand. What followed was automatic. The skirt raised, her tail raised, I slid off her panties. She slid way, way down to me, spread those very full meaty thighs, and presented me with the sight of a curly rose bush such as I had never seen in any garden.
She tapped me-insistently.
I tickled her just for a moment. I peered up the great, white slopes of her flesh and into that great, hairy crack. I shuddered, and wondered how I could get out of this and still seem a gentleman. I ducked out just as she clawed for my ears. I remembered something up above. I slipped back into my seat, all innocence, then pointed down the table.
"Look at that!" I shouted. While they looked, my hand flicked out, got what it wanted, and I slid back under the table.
I knew I had the grin of the devil on my lips as I spread her legs even wider. I slipped my whole hand easily into that monstrous gash and worked her up into a full head of steam.
"Ready?" I hissed. I knew she was attuned to my every whisper.
"Yes!" like the soft slither of a snake.
I spread the ruby-red lips wide, and just touched the wick-end of the candle into the cavernous depth. She flinched, grabbing at it with those slipping, slabs of flesh, then with a great sigh spread it wide open. My God, I've never seen such a sight in all my life! It was fearsome! Awe-inspiring!
I rammed in that twelve-inch candle full-length, full force, clear up to the holder. She gasped and sobbed and carried on in such a wild manner that I got the hell out of there before she knocked my head off with her flailing legs.
I slid into my seat, and innocently, once again, picked up my glass which had been magically refilled. I sipped at it and smiled at all the ladies. Three never saw me. They were staring transfixed at Mrs. Horlick. The latter's head only was visible above the table. Her eyes were closed, and she had the silliest smile in the world on her face.
I felt like a rat, but I did it.
"Mrs. Horlick?"
She smiled just a little wider. A sweet little sigh escaped from her lips. "Mrs. Horlick!"
One eye popped open. It looked at me glassily. Then the other shot open. Her mouth fell open.
"But-," she said, a look of great consternation crossing her face. "You're-you're up here ... not down there." Her voice trailed off into a faint, little whisper. "Who-?"
I grinned fiendishly, and pointed to one of the remaining candles.
She uttered the most god-awful shriek you could possibly imagine. She shot up in the seat and leaped to her feet. Her hands held the skirt high while she looked down at the heavy, square candleholder sticking out of her whazzit.
We all looked. Dilly and her friends looked, all except her ornithologist friend, of course.
Laughter became pandemonium as she turned all shades of the rainbow, including a deadly hue of purple as she hissed at me, "I'll get you for this!"
She dropped her skirt and walked stiffly out of the room.
A peroxide blonde to my right, a horsey, buck-toothed wench of fifty-some summers, tittered and neighed at me, "I thought for a wild moment your Big John had her!"
I poured myself another glass of wine and saw to it that all the ladies' glasses were filled. We downed that, and then another. Our reasons were all tied together-Dilly and her admirers. We were all getting a bit irked with the fawning and even downright lewd behavior going on down there.
"I thought you were the guest of honor," snorted Horsey. "Why don't you snap your fingers and produce this genie of yours. That would shake them up."
I downed the wine, poured another, and sat there stupefied while I mulled over her suggestion. Rational thought was completely beyond the power of my befuddled mind. I saw Dilly just then shrug a shoulder, deliberately, I'm sure. The strap fell down, the dress slipped and one whole luscious red-tipped breast was exposed. Three bald heads zeroed in on it, smothered it.
I polished off the glass and staggered to my feet. Up on the chair, then up on the table, crunching and kicking at the dishes and goodies. I held up my hands and shouted, "LADIES AND GENTLEMEN . ... May I have your attention. You are about to see a sight such as you've never dreamed of. It's stupendous! Colossal! The eighth wonder of the world . ... BIG JOHN!"
Dilly shrieked and tried to get up, but for some reason, unseen to all of us, couldn't move her legs.
I cackled gleefully and threw my coat to the floor, then my tie, my shirt, my T-shirt.
Horsey slipped off my shoes and socks and I dropped my pants.
"ARE YOU READY? Are you ready for the genie of all time? Big John?"
The three women howled in gleeful anticipation. The bald heads turned slowly and watched and waited.
It was just after I dropped my shorts and tossed them to a sweet, little old lady, and had Big John, cherry-headed like a Delicious apple, and standing out rampant like the trunk of an old oak tree, that I blacked out.
I remembered somebody hollering Timber! Then the sound of rushing air, the table-top zooming up with sickening speed, the awful crash of silver, china, and me.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Blue Monday? Better color it Tuesday. Dilly had me out of bed at six in the morning, determined to send me off to my classes. I had the grand-daddy of all hangovers and just wanted to die, quietly, miserably.
"Don't." I crawled down to the foot of the bed, under the covers.
She ripped off the blanket and sheet. I huddled and quivered and shook.
"Up, idiot!" Her eyes blazed at me. "The least you can do is put up a good front!"
That got me. I rolled over and laughed till the tears came like a river. "I thought I did that last night!"
She started to frown, then my laughter caught her up. She flopped on the bed and cuddled up to me.
"What a sight you were!"
I wasn't wearing pajamas, but she was. She struggled, but I had them off in no time.
"You'll be late." She lay atop me and burned my parched lips with kisses of fire and honey.
"Yes." I tasted the sweetness of her lips and slid my tongue in deep. "Grrr," I growled and wrapped my hands around her warm back and squashed her to me. Hot, silky smoothness, velvet-soft and smelling, oh so good! It was great to be married! I knew I'd have to come home and have a nooner, too.
"He's awake now," she whispered in delight.
"And ready," I whispered back.
She raised up high, her hands on the pillow, her lovely tail arched high, and her head bent so that she could look back and down to guide him in.
"Are you wet?" I poked at her slit to feel for myself.
"Dripping. You're really going to get it today." She lowered herself and smothered me with her juicy, clinging lips. Then she gooshed on down, all the way.
"Oof!" she gasped. "I'd almost forgotten he was so big."
"Short memory, and gabby tongue." I moved my hips suggestively.
She blew softly across my straining face. "Just relax. I'll do all the work."
I spread out my arms and legs, shut my eyes, and let her send me off to heaven. A puckered tit tip was thrust in my mouth and the soft flesh behind ballooned delightfully over my fevered face.
She slid way up and down, pulling out slowly, then just sucking in his big, red head, then plunging with a throaty gasp of delight.
"Oh, my God!" she moaned. 'To think it's all mine. Wheee!" she shrieked, and pumped her cunt in flashing, rapid strokes.
She stopped for breath, and to just tantalize herself. "I hate to stop, and I almost hate to go, because it will end."
"It's a repeater," I giggled. "Shut up some more." I grabbed a big tit in each hand and pulled and mauled at them-not too hard, just enough to have her suck in her breath, shut her eyes, and push them hard into my grasping fingers.
She rolled her hips and moved up and down frantically at the same time. Then her fingers gripped hard at the skin of my shoulders and sank in deep.
"Go, go, go, go!" She reared and began to buck furiously. I did the same, timing my upward thrust just right for her downward plunge. The bed rocked and creaked and groaned. We were wild now. Her hair swirled like mad. Her eyes sparkled with gleeful abandon. She tried to speak; why, I don't know.
"I love ... love ... love you," she finally managed to gasp. She plunged down once more and lay quivering. "I'm coming ... coming ... come...."
Her voice was a bare whisper. Then the great shudder began. She trembled from head to toe, and the folds of her vagina tightened inexorably around Big John. Huge as he was now, it mattered not-not that I wanted it to.
I still hadn't moved, just lay there waiting for the dam to burst and the mighty river to flow.
Her last convulsive grab did it. It began with a roaring, then a swift swelling and rushing sound deep down around my balls. The fiery red head tingled and tickled in warning. The old sluice-slot running through the gnarled trunk opened and held ready, the tough walls strained to their utmost.
"Hurry!" She bit my ear and applied the last possible bit of pressure deep in her womb.
Whoosh! I felt myself lifted and hurled along on the tidal wave. When it hit her, she screamed and hollered, "More! More!"
"Tig," when I could speak again. "You women are never satisfied."
We lay silent and gluey in the final glutting action of the ebb-tide. Her tongue worked aimlessly in my ear. I could see the rounded spheres of her buttocks flatten, then round out again as she worked her best to drain every last bit.
"Good to the last drop, kid?" I chuckled.
"Oh, migosh! You will be late. Won't that be terrible?" She slipped off slowly. We both got silly over the boot-out-of-the-muck sound as she finally managed to break loose.
We rolled and wrestled off the bed, clear across the rug and up against the door with a wet, thudding smack. We were one tangled mass of arms, legs, and whatever else was left over. My head was wedged tight between her strong thighs, and as she squeezed, teasingly, I felt the old rod come swinging up. She swooped down on me and really gobbled hard for a few seconds. I shot out my tongue and drove it deep into her wet cunt.
You guessed it. There was a knock on the door.
We groaned and rolled away from it, but still together.
"Who is it?" I grated my teeth because she was really sucking up a storm.
"Stewie. Come on. We'll be late."
I had forgotten I had agreed to go to Denning's class with him. "Just a minute-about five," I gasped. I was on my knees now and hanging onto her head for dear life.
She left me. Her head raised and she looked at me through narrowed, slitted eyes.
"There's something you've either got to get out of your system, or simply get started on if we're ever to have any peace around here. My God, what a night!"
I shoved down on her head-no dice. She was a strong girl, damn it. "What's that supposed to mean?" I said finally.
"You were having that wild dream of yours again-all about that flagpole-which, by the way, is no flagpole."
I flushed and muttered in denial.
She gave me a last withering glance, then with as nice a bit of dextrous, sliding motion I ever did see, she slithered her lips around Big John once again. At the same time, she swung open the door.
I thought he'd faint. He hung onto the door for support and reeled into the room.
Dilly snaked out her hand again and shut the door. Then she lifted her head and spoke softly (but, oh, so firmly) to him. 'Take it out, Stewie, and feed it to him. He wants the taste of it so bad he's climbing the walls every night."
"Really?" his eyes like saucers.
"It's a lie!" I screamed. "Don't you dare!"
His fingers toyed with maddening slowness at the zipper of his fly. What the hell was the matter with him? How could anyone be so slow and clumsy. Good gravy?
"Come on, Stewie-a double-header. Fish that snake out into the open before I do it!" She bent quickly then, knowing her threat would shake him loose. She cupped the old jingle-balls and juggled their heavy weight up and down. She lapped with great, eager slurps all around the shiny, red head.
Zip! Then his pants and shorts followed. His stiff rod swayed and leaped up and out at me.
"Kiss me, dear," he said. He took one step and put one hand behind my head.
I never thought about it, or dallied one little bit. I took him like good old Grant took Richmond. I had thought it would bother me. What a laugh!
"Marvelous, marvelous, and you a virgin," he murmured. He bent and shoved the tips of his little fingers into my ears. He kissed the top of my head.
Dilly rolled her eyes up and tried to grin as she watched and worked. I shoved hard at her and Stewie did the same to me.
We exploded at the same time and the molten gush sent us all hurling to the floor. All legs, arms, and what-have-you once again. Next?
Dilly scrambled up first and began to pout. "Not fair," she said, "twice for you and only once for me." She eyed us both speculatively, then settled on Stewie. He appeared to be in better condition than I.
He got to his feet hastily and backed up against the wall. "No ... no," he said in a frightened voice. "Help me, John," he pleaded.
"Help yourself," I grinned. I inched on all fours over to the bed. I climbed up on it, then flopped over on my back so that I could watch the fun. I felt good now, and just sort of lazy and contented.
Dilly was down on all fours and her rear to him. She scuttled backwards and shoved up against him. He stumbled to his knees, and she had him.
"I can't," he moaned. "You're a girl. What will my friends think?"
"You'll probably make more-if you're half the man I think you are." She reached around and grabbed at him. He ducked and slapped at her wrists, but she hadn't come from out in the cornfields for nothing. "Do that again and I'll tear it out by the roots!" she snarled. "You believe me?" She twisted his arm ferociously.
"I believe," he whimpered. "Do your worst. This will be the blackest day of my life ... and it was so beautiful ... ," he sighed wistfully and glanced at me.
"We'll see." She grappled for his limp penis and began to pump it ferociously. It stayed limp, like a thick piece of well-cooked spaghetti.
"See?" he gloated.
She swung around wildly, and then squeezing hard, till I thought he'd burst and ooze out through her fingers, she licked the swollen, crimson head.
"No ... no. He tried to shove her away.
"Yes, yes!" She continued, and what she wanted, and he didn't, happened. He spronged right up. Then, quick as a flash, she whirled, shoved her sweet, split tail at him, and grabbed his rock-hard dong and rammed it in.
He fell on her and began to pump like mad, his thin buttocks squirming and flashing like all get-out. She matched him, ramming him against the wall time and time again.
He reached around and under and filled his hands with her dangling breasts. "Ooh, they're good."
"Natch. All girls have them, Stewie," she giggled. "Play with the nipples more, and harder. That's it! Umm, not too hard....That's better. Keep banging away. Don't forget."
He laughed. "How could I? You're wonderful." He banged away furiously.
I frowned and sat up. "Say there."
They ignored me. Their action became fast and furious. She pinned him against the wall finally and whanged him like a human punching bag. He was smiling, the idiot-the silliest damn smirk on his face. Then his grin tightened as she really nailed him to the wall with a last, great, rearing lunge.
They froze and shook and shuddered together. He kissed the wet slope of her back and she reached under and bounced him lovingly.
They unfused. She fell forward on her belly, and he dribbled to the floor.
I was off the bed and climbing into my clothes before they opened their eyes. I grabbed the books off the nightstand, and said, acidly, I hoped, "Anytime you're ready, Stewie."
He jumped up, zipped up, and recovered his own books from all over the room. "We will be late, but wait till he hears the news!" he beamed.
"Which news?" I snarled in challenge. I glanced at the curled-up Dilly meaningfully.
"Oh...." His face fell. "You wouldn't tell on me."
"Ha!" I gloated.
Dilly came to. She got up and got between the two of us. She put a warm arm around each of our waists. "Sillies. It was the first time for each of you. Was it that bad? Huh. Can't you both admit to being switch-hitters? I do. It just doubles the enjoyment."
We looked long and hard at each other. I broke first. "She's right, I admit."
He still looked undecided. She teased the front of his pants and it bulged immediately.
"See? And, Stewie, I know some of the most loveable young girls. Ooh, they'll do anything. I think Johnny does, too." She nodded toward the picture window and the sorority house.
"Say! How about that?" He grinned widely and jabbed me in the ribs.
CHAPTER TWELVE
After a quick cup of coffee and a dough-nut served grumpily by the snarling bag on the morning trick, we hurried out onto the street. The students and others were just as affable as they had been last night.
"John, boy!" Big smile.
"Hi, Johnny!" Nice wave.
And so on. I began to feel good again-until I remembered Trixie, the idiotic TV show, and pictured the whole student-body and the entire population of the town quietly dismembering me.
I slowed my walk.
"Come on," he said.
"I don't feel so good anymore." And what the hell kind of a welcome would I get from those who had been at the dinner last night? I felt sure I would know before the day was over.
"Hey! Will you look at that?" He nudged me.
Three small boys, ten or so, came charging across the street toward us. I stared incredulously at their snappy, snow-white, brand-new T-shirts. The letters BIG JOHN were emblazoned on them in flaming yellow letters, and below was a monstrous genie with a huge, red head.
"No ... no...." I tottered to the nearest lamp-post and hung onto it weakly.
Stewie patted me. "Don't be so modest.
You're a brain. Why not admit it? I know about this-and other things-last night. I thought it would be nice to surprise you. Isn't this a nice surprise?"
"The best," I growled. I took the grubby pencil from the grubby little hand and signed each of their autograph books. They shrieked in glee and galloped off down the street.
We walked on, I in a complete stupor. How could this happen to me? Me-just a lonely farm boy from a little Iowa town way off in the cornfields.
"What else can I expect?"
"I think they're coming now. Yes. Hear them?"
Sounds of band music, bugles, drums, shouted commands and marching feet could be heard quite plainly now.
"Why, it sounds like a parade. At this time of year, of day. What?" I saw his little grin and felt the sledgehammer belt me in the gut. I knew I was going to be sick. I dashed into the nearest hallway and noisily got it over with.
When I could, I peeked around the corner, and pulled my head back, quick-turtle-like. Down the street they came: the police and firemen's band banging and tooting like it was the Fourth of July. Behind them was a group of local dignitaries in their Sunday-best. Then came the majorettes-seven lovely lassies, high-stepping in a line from curb to curb, and carrying head-high a huge banner which said in that sickening red and yellow: BIG JOHN. The payoff was the last group: a bunch of marching little boys, the two in the lead carrying their placard: CUB SCOUT PACK 41-BIG JOHN PATROL.
I had hoped to sneak in quietly while he had his back to the class, writing some weird bit of logic on the board. He turned with a cat-like whirl just as the blasted door clicked shut. He tapped the gleaming, white teeth in his ugly mug with his delicate fingers.
"So ... our shining light has deigned to honor us with his presence." He bowed low. "Please." He waved me to my seat, beside Stewie.
I slunk across the room and up the aisle under the admiring glances and awed whispers of my classmates. Feeling only inches high, I climbed up onto the seat and simply froze for the duration of the period.
I lost myself in the rush of the students out the door as the bell rang-I thought.
"John!" Just as loud and clear as the bellow of a diesel locomotive horn on a frosty winter morning.
I sat meekly, and waited.
He paced back and forth in front of me, looking for all the world like a sabre-tooth tiger with his first man for breakfast.
Finally: "How in hell did you ever get yourself in such a mess? Better yet, how in hell are you going to get out of it with a whole skin?"
"First-it was easy. I did practically nothing-ah, except with you, of course. My women took care of it all. They rolled the little snowball that now is an avalanche." Just then I heard the band outside the window.
He stalked over to it, glared out, then slammed it down. He whirled on me, his mouth wide open.
I held up my hands. "I know. I know."
He sat beside me and patted my knee in a kindly fashion. "What on earth are you going to do?" he mused.
I eyed his big, muscular frame. "Be my bodyguard. I'll sneak out on the first bus. I know: I'll wear a disguise."
"Idiot!"
Well, that was one thing he and Dilly had in common-that pet name. They both had a finger on the truth of the matter.
"Every blessed soul in town knows you now. You couldn't walk an inch in any disguise."
We sat silent for long moments. He sighed at last, and said, "Well that's it."
"That's what?" I looked at him worriedly.
"You'll have to go through with it. If you can hack it, or if we can dream up some miracle-we and Big John (with but thinly disguised sarcasm)-you'll live through it. If not...." He spread his beautiful hands out wide. "You've made your bed and you'll have to lie in it."
"Shroud would be a better word," I said mournfully.
He shook hands with me in a really grim, final way that didn't make me feel one bit better.
"Don't forget," he called after me, "If I can think of something I'll let you know. In the meantime...."
I managed to get through the other classes with only minor incidents of disaster, including well-deserved laughs from the profs. They knew full well how the A's had come about. And how they knew!
It was when I left the English class at noon and headed for home that I saw all the carpenters and painters hammering and splashing away. It was a new eatery. I hoped it would be an improvement over the rest of them in town. I paused to watch. Nothing better to do.
The inside was completed-in fact, they were tossing things on the grill. The workmen swung the big sign into place and my worst thoughts were confirmed. They were getting closer to the core of the matter every time. This was strictly a hot-dog joint: BIG JOHN'S WEENIES SINK YOUR CHOPPERS IN DEEP!
I blanched and winced at the thought. Time to leave, but quick! I turned on my heel and ran into a solid wall-of mountainous gristle.
"Oh no, you don't get away now." A tremendous paw collared me and breezed me easily inside the joint. I don't think my feet touched the floor once.
I was planked down on one of the red-topped chrome stools. He stepped back with arms of oak folded over his barrel chest.
"So ... dat's whatcha look like. Ain't much, is he Myrt?"
Myrt, the hag on the grill, picked her nose thoughtfully. "I dunno. Never know what they'll come up with these days." She went back to slopping some enormous, blood-red franks or the smoking grill. I winced again as the dogs curled, sizzled and split.
"He don't look so good." She glanced at me over her shoulder.
I held my back, and looked even more pained. "You see, I've got this ... ," sliding off the stool.
He shook his head and thumbed me back on the stool. "Just sit, Johnny. I'm Looey. Grad student, phys-ed wrassler, football; get me a M.A. in the spring. 'Course I ain't no brain like you, John. I allers wondered how little crappers like you got so damn smart. It's a wonder it don' make ya sick-all those brains. That why ya look so stinky? No offence meant, of course, ya know," he added.
"No ... no. I realize that." I glanced around approvingly. "Nice place you have here." I slid again, hopefully.
He shook his head. "Ya gotta eat yer Big John. First customer, most important customer-good fer business 'n ya'll get all the Big Johns 'ya want as long as yer in town-free!"
My stomach churned like an outboard motor. "I just ate," I lied hopefully.
He motioned to Myrt. "The special."
She cackled and swept up a deadly-looking two-tined fork. She jabbed and came up with a monstrous dog-fully sixteen inches in length and four in diameter. She swung it, two-handed, through the air, dropped it with a thud into an equally large bun. With a grunt and a great splat, she deposited it in front of me.
"Eat," said Looey. Then he walked quickly out the door and began bellowing at the top of his lungs like a circus barker.
"What's he doing?" I looked wild-eyed at Myrt.
She looked at me as though I were some moron fresh out of the booby hatch. "Jeez! Ya gotta have spectators when ya have a pre-meer, don'tcha? You don't seem so bright to me." She shook her head disparagingly, and went back to work.
They came flying from all directions, and soon were four or five deep at the window-all eyeballs and so forth, watching and waiting.
He was back-and ready.
"Eat."
I picked it up, and it took all the strength I had at the moment. It weighed a young ton, and I swung it around carefully to the general vicinity of my mouth.
"Whatcha waitin' fer?" He sounded impatient, and he was cracking his knuckles. "Ya wanna know what's in it?"
"God, no!" I shut my eyes and tore off a great hunk with my shaking teeth. The outboard in my stomach became a jet, afterburners roaring like mad.
He was right beside me, watching gleefully. "Good, huh? Ya wanna know what's in it, huh?" he repeated.
I shook my head desperately and rammed the whole end of it into my mouth.
"Hey! That's the way ta eat it! Keep going, Johnny. That'll really give ya the ole snap and poop! All of it, boy-every juicy, red inch!"
I quailed and felt myself falling. "All ... all of this?"
"You goddamn betcha all of it. I got me every cent I own and then some in this joint. Eat!"
From some primitive, courageous, and undoubtedly simple-minded ancestor, I suddenly inherited that rare thing called courage.
I dropped the dog back on the counter. "I refuse," I said.
He looked at me stunned. I thought he was going to cry. He wasn't. It was his way of smiling. He swept off his T-shirt, swelled out his hairy chest and flexed his biceps-right under my nose.
"Ya wanna see what all this muscle can do?" His voice was very quiet, very meaningful.
I may be stupid, but this fellow was really communicating with me-He rated an A in my book for that.
"I'll eat," I said. I picked up the chawed-on monster and went to work. One-half hour later, after four cups of wash-down coffee, and God knows how many sour and very loud belches, I was through. I don't think I ever want to see a hot dog again. I'll walk a mile at the slightest sight or smell of one-away, and fast.
"Good, huh?" He whacked me on the back, and I did land on the floor then. I rolled and slid, doing my best to get up, but I was like one of those leaded toys that just rock back and forth, never falling over.
He came to my rescue and yanked me up, but not quite so easily this time. "Geez, ya put on a little weight," he grinned. He shoved me toward the door. "Go on, ole fella, tell 'em how good it was, and don't forget-all ya want. Anytime!" He gave me a last helpful shove and I was able to waddle out under my own power.
They opened a path for me and plied me with questions. I kept waddling through, dragging my tail feathers along behind me, and quacking in strange, unintelligible sounds.
It was sometime later that I managed to get to the end of the block. I turned off, away from the apartment. The walk might help. Now I knew how a turkey felt at Thanksgiving time. Whoof! I trudged on, out of the downtown area, toward the exclusive residential section. It was probably a good place to stay away from, but what the hell. What mattered now?
It was my nineteenth mistake for the day. I heard a pleasant female voice call out.
"Yoo-hoo, young man." She waved and beckoned to me, a sweet, silver-haired old lady. She stood on the trellised, vine-covered porch and fluttered a little, white hanky at me.
Curious, I turned up the path and walked up onto the porch. She watched me lumber up the steps with sympathetic eyes.
"Are you all right, young man? You're not ill...."
When she saw the color of my face, she grabbed my arm quickly and hustled me into the house. Vaguely, I thought I heard the snick of a key in a lock. No matter, I was safe now.
She led me slowly, and consolingly whispering sweet, little commiserations in my ear, to the dim recesses in the back of the house. I stopped short.
"But."
I got a good shove from behind and lurched into the bedroom. I definitely heard this lock click.
I whirled, if you can call it that in my shape, and faced her. The expression on her face was quite different now. I had seen it somewhere before, I knew-perhaps on a stalking cat, after her little mousie.
I backed up to the bed.
"Well, what is it, Mrs. ah...? You're surely not going to take advantage of me, are you?" She should get a chuckle out of that funny.
She did. "He-he-he-he."
Rather savage-sounding, I thought.
"Don't remember me, eh?"
I shook my head.
"I shouldn't think you would, not after all that wine, and the horrible spill you took full-length on the table last night."
I remembered-Dean Manly's wife, the quiet one. She had said very little, just watched, and smiled so sweetly-like now.
She clapped her hands. "Come out, girls!" From an adjoining door, out stalked the other three women of last night.
My eyes rolled, flipped, and did sundry other little wonders. These dames were all as naked as the day they were born.
"Get him!" Then she began to tear off her own clothes.
They were on me like panthers out of hell. Mrs. Horlick, who sported a fine, rubbery, bouncy pair of knockers, and a curly red bush I'd seen before, took the lead. She threw me on the bed and ripped off all my upper garments. Then she straddled my chest.
I told you I'd get you for the cute trick of yours last night!" she blazed at me.
"What are you going to do?" I quavered. I struggled, but the four of them were too much for me-I felt the cool rush of air on my lower body as the other harpies stripped me clean. Then a swarm of not-too-gentle hands began to grab, maul, yank, and pump at old John and his two silent, bulbous companions.
"You mean what are you going to do?" Her smile was gloating, even downright nasty. She shoved those great, fleshy buttocks way up just under my chin. "You left a bit of wick-so LICK!" She rammed her great, hairy snatch against my face and gloated down at me.
Lick I did. I had no choice. And, you know, really, she wasn't too bad. I was really beginning to enjoy myself when she gave a wondrous squawk and fell full-weight upon me.
When I recovered consciousness, it was to see that little, old lady poised just over Big John and ready to drop. If she wasn't the damndest sight! No hair at all, not a single, little wisp. She's thrown off her wig and the top of her head gleamed like polished marble.
Between her legs, the gleam was much the same, except for the shadowed cleft dead center of the twin bulges of her pudenda. Her shape, all considered, was excellent-nice, tight, little tits, a tummy but slightily rounded, and white, firm flesh below.
She gave out one of those southern Rebel yells, waved her arms, and dropped. She gasped and her eyes saucered. She held onto the base of Big John and rode me like a bronc. Once she got going, there was no stopping her.
"Wheee!" she'd yell and slap my aching gut. Then she'd leap up and down and bang her saucy little buttocks against my balls.
The others weren't idle. I was straddled again for a trek into the bush country. It was the horsey-faced one this time, a Mrs. Loody, she said, favoring me with her chipmunk smile. Honestly, she had the loosest, goosiest, most educated twat I'd ever sunk my teeth into. It was a wild trip and we wound up on the floor.
Finally, when they had satiated themselves completely-at both ends of me-they lay sprawled and gasping about the bed and the floor.
I found my cigarettes, smoked one at leisure, then proceded to throw on my clothes.
While I buttoned the shirt, I hunted around for Mrs. Manly. Damn! Had I lost her? Then I spied the cute, little foot, the toes all curled up, sticking out from under the bed.
I pulled her gently out into the light.
There was that damned silly smile again!
I nudged her cute backside with my shoe. "Hey, lover."
Her eyes opened. She smiled and licked her lips-"Big John," she murmured. 'The best piece of ass I've had in sixty years."
"Is that all?" I looked reproachful.
She grinned contentedly. "On second thought, the best ever!"
"That's better. Now, Mrs. Manly," I knelt and spoke earnestly to her, "we've all had our fun, but I've still got a problem. This quiz-show on Friday...?"
She shook her head firmly. "No, that's Horace's pet. I have no say-I'm sorry to say you're on your own. And," she rose and looked me square in the eye, "woe unto you when you make the mess of it you're going to."
"Well, how come you, ah, girls, ganged up on me like this? How about returning a favor?" I pleaded.
She grinned again and flicked her fingers at my crotch. "You didn't think we were going to let something like that get away, did you-before it was too late? The people of this town have a one-track mind. They figure you're going to bring them in covered with glory, not...."
"Don't say it!"
"Well, and when you don't, well ... they may react very, very violently."
"Oh." I dragged myself out of the room much the same way I had come in, but for a different reason.
Friday night came in on wings of light. I had dragged through the nightmare week, each day presenting a spectacle more macabre than the previous (like Thursday night when I had to stand in the pulpit and deliver a stirring lecture-I hoped-to the combined forces of the Epworth League, the Catholic Young People's Group, and the monks from the nearby monastery at St. Pius-a ringing, and deliberately deceiving bit of fluff on the spirituality of-you guessed it, Big John).
Trixie had threatened to holler rape. For awhile I was tempted, but the thought of twenty years in the pen was too much.
I was marched at the head of a cheering throng to the Communications building. Inside, I was ushered quickly into the studio. The audience was on its feet to a man.
"BIG JOHN!" They shrieked.
The school chaplain led us in a short prayer, and in a moment we were on the air.
Three on a side, across a stretch of stage, we faced each other. The moderator stood in the center, microphone in one hand and a sheaf of question-papers in the other.
While he gave his introductory blah, I swivelled my eyeballs around wildly, looking for some means of escape. There were two exits. Looey stood at one, at the ready, it seemed, and at the other was a monster fully as large and ugly-looking.
It looked bad.
The questions began to pop, and the answers snapped back like wildfire. I stared at Trixie and Stewie in amazement. I slumped way down in the chair and tried to crawl into the woodwork.
So far, I had lucked out. Each person was being asked a question in turn, I began to realize-but they were skipping me. Good!
One of the rivals asked his own question. "When are you going to ask him?" he snarled, pointing at me.
The announcer tut-tutted him. "Later, you should have his question." The party went on. I gnawed on his comment awhile, then gave it up as a bad job.
He droned on and on; they yipped back. It was monotonous. The lights were bright and hot. I got sleepy, and just slouched back. The hell with it. They wouldn't dare-would they? No, never, I consoled myself.
I began to think of how far we could go on with what little we had. Just what did we have? Let's see, I know I had forty cents change in my pocket. A ten, two fives, and a one in my wallet. Duly...?
Out of the corner of my eye I could see the two cavemen wheeling onto the stage some monstrous machine, all glass panels, dials, junk. Were they going to fry me? Blah!
The moderator yakked on, his voice taking on a strident tone of finality, raving about this new wizard computer and a lot of blah about mathematics.
Horseshit! I had better things to think about. He kept butting into my thoughts, but I worked at it. We might make it.
"You'll feed these figures into the computer as I read them off. When I holler go, the race is on!"
Oh, shut up! Let's see-Dilly . ... She told me she had stashed thirty-five bucks in the old cookie jar.
"An integral factored sum, minus y to the 13th power...."
I put my fingers in my ears. Idiot! Stewie had said he'd lend me twenty anytime-anytime at all. Good kid, that Stewie....
"Ready?"
I nodded in satisfaction as my brain began to work: bus-fare to Chicago? I remembered now. Great! I had checked it before. We had it to the penny.
"Go!" His arm flashed down.
"Seventy-six forty!" I yelped. He'd scared it clean out of me.
There was a fearful rumbling from the machine, a crackle of shorted wires, flashes of light, then a pouring of smoke. A final whirring and clacking, and it was silent.
"I didn't do it!" I screamed.
He looked at me stunned, then at the paper, then at me again, then at the paper.
"My God!" he said in an awed, spectral voice.
The silence in the auditorium was electrifying. They were frozen in anticipation.
I eyed the exits. My God! Looey had left his, was bending over the machine. I stretched out a foot cautiously, tensed myself, got to my feet slowly, and fell flat on my face as he shrieked, "Eureka! You've done it! You've beaten the computer-7640 is the correct answer!"
Pandemonium really broke loose. They had me high in the air, tossing me like some busted, screaming toy. I was hurled aloft time and time again.
On the way down, I saw the rivals slinking out, muttering, shaking their fists at me. I thumbed my nose at them.
I can look back on this now with relative calmness, secure in our little, pensioned house provided by a grateful city and student body. It was a harrowing experience, but it had been worth it.
We were thoroughly provided for: all expenses (and my ten-grand getting fatter every year), good home, modest salary. All I had to do occasionally was to give a little lecture, as Professor Emeritus, on the symbolism and mysticism of the far East, especially as it dealt with the hidden lore of red-headed genies.
It was nice: the house, the fireplace, the old rocking chair, and the three of us.
She swung into the room, glanced at the fire with approval, then at me with a sly grin.
"Is he ready?"
I smiled. "He's always ready."
She dropped her robe and climbed on my lap. Big John reared and bucked as of old.
She sank down slowly-and folded her body to mine. She stroked my beard playfully. "I could go on forever and ever
