Thomas P. King might be considered Thome Smith resurrected. The style and sense of humor is very reminiscent of a late satirical novelist. This should not detract the reader from a very amusing evening with this latter day humorist who pokes fun at all the sex researchers and computer dating associations.
He will also save some people a lot of money from subscribing to any sales pitches from questionable sex researchers. These quacks usually demand money from the people who are supposed to be contributing their services to science when actually all they are doing is contributing their hard earned money to a confidence man's bank account.
Thomas P. King elicits a chuckle if not a guffaw on almost every page of this sex-punny novel. I defy anyone who reads it not to find the satire of the highest quality. If you read close enough you will find many of the people to be very familiar to you and that should only add to your enjoyment of this very funny novel.
I would find it very hard not to describe Mr. King's book as one of the funniest satirical novels of the year and I would be very disappointed if it did not make the best seller lists and stay there for a very long time.
Ray Calhoun Literary Critic, London Digest
CHAPTER ONE
It was sex, sex, glorious sex that kept Zip alive and he never forgot it he felt if it wasn't for his daily meat rations he would be a poor, withered old man. When Zip awakened each morning to the wet, hot tongue of his sleep-in maid he certainly didn't resemble any old man. He was hung like a bull stud and acted like it too. Five, six or more times a day in the old snatch was nothing more than a romp in the hay for Zip.
Rumbling in his sleep he finally opened his swollen eyelids and looked around.
Mr. Zip was annoyed with Samantha, the colored maid, for not waking him up. Her first duty every morning was to tiptoe into his room at eight o'clock, draw his covers back gently, then lean over and suck his cock. It was a lot better than any alarm clock, or a nudge at his shoulder. As his prick rose, he would rise easily from the depths of sleep; and the first sight he'd see every morning would be the dark, shapely girl in her abbreviated costume, pulling at his prick with her full lips. By the time he shot a full wad of juice into her mouth, he would be fully awake. She would swallow, smile brightly at him, and serve him his morning coffee.
Not this morning, though. He awakened in an empty room with a dreary headache from last night's party. No Samantha, no blowjob, no coffee. Grumbling, he threw on his robe and slippers and tottered downstairs to look for her, his stiff prick leading him like a birddog leads a hunter.
Mr. Zip looked through every room in the east wing of his house, but the sultry maid was nowhere to be found. He wandered into the sunny room, filled with sun from tall french windows, where his wife was eating by herself. She was dressed in a transparent white negligee, and the sunlight flooded through it to reveal every delicious curve of her body. Mr. Zip could clearly see the tantalizing black patch between her crossed legs. She had the rose-white complexion of a china doll, with short black hair and dazzling blue eyes.
She was the most beautiful woman Zip had ever known, but she was also the most exasperating. She was as stiff and cold as a block of ice in bed, and Mr. Zip, who considered himself one of the foremost sexual athletes of all time, could do nothing at all to warm her up. They slept in separate rooms now, and their paths seldom crossed.
"You look worse than usual this morning, Zip," his wife said. "Do you want any breakfast?"
"No," said Zip, coming close to her and opening his robe to display his stiff, throbbing prick, "do you?"
His wife shuddered and looked away. "Please, not while I'm eating. There are two things in the world that really disgust me, Zip, one is that smelly salami you're waving in my face, and the other is your ridiculous name." Mr. Zip was furious. "There's nothing wrong with my name!" he shouted.
"Mr. Zip. It sounds like the name of some chimpanzee you'd see in bib overalls, riding a tricycle on the Ed Sullivan show. Come to think of it, I guess it's a perfect name for you."
There was no point in arguing with this lunatic, Zip decided, when he could be enjoying a juicy piece of ass. If he didn't get one soon, he'd be late for work. "Where's Samantha?" he said.
"Oh, she's showing the new maid her duties. I think they're in the library."
It was the first Mr. Zip had heard about a new maid, but he decided not to drag out the conversation any longer. He guessed it was a replacement for Ingrid, who had left their service last month to become an underground film star. Ingrid had been a terrible maid, but she was always ready to fuck, and Mr. Zip felt her loss keenly.
There was one good thing about his wife, Zip decided. She ignored what went on with the maids, or else she was just too dumb to realize that not everybody was an iceberg like herself. She seemed to have a blind spot about sex. She thought nothing of walking around the house nude, and she saw nothing wrong with the maids' costumes Zip had designed, which made his home look like "a $100 a throw whorehouse" in the words of one friend.
He met Samantha hurrying toward him in the hall. Her skin was the color of coffee heavily laced with cream, and the only Negroid features she had were her deep, black eyes and very full lips. Her hair was soft, and hung down to her shoulders.
The costume Zip had designed was a skin-tight minidress of black silk, cut down just above the nipples in front and down to the crack of her ass in back. A zipper closed the front of the dress, with a large clasp at her cleavage, so that she could be stripped in an instant. The maids wore black, fishnet stockings and high heels, but Zip insisted that they wear no underwear.
"Mr. Zip, I'm sorry, but the Mrs. has been running me off my feet all morning, and I've had to break in that new girl, I just didn't have a chance to come up and wake you," Samantha said.
Mr. Zip pulled her toward him with a hand around her waist, and her hand instinctively grabbed through his robe for his prick. "I guess it's all right, but if I don't start the day off with a good fuck, I'm no good for anything," he said.
"You and me both, Mr. Zip," sighed Samantha. They kissed, and their tongues tangled lasciviously with each other's, while she softly stroked his prick with her right hand.
Zip guided her into his den, where he shut the door and flung off his bathrobe. Samantha unzipped her costume and stood before him naked, except for black stockings and garter belt. Mr. Zip had specified that certain key rooms in the house have rugs that were extra thick and soft as beds, and this was one of them. He pulled Samantha down to the floor with him, kneading her full breasts with both hands.
Samantha's nipples were a bright shade of pink, contrasting beautifully with her creamy brown skin. She groaned with pleasure as Mr. Zip kissed each of them in turn, then nibbled very gently at them with his teeth. Zip continued down the familiar road with his lips, pausing at her flat belly to run his tongue around the tiny cup of her navel. Then his nose reached the margin of tight black curls above her cunt, and he inhaled the warm, musky odor of her well-used pussy. The lips of her cunt, like the lips of her mouth, were thicker than a white woman's, and a brighter shade of pink. He saw that her clit was already swollen with passion. It was tight and dry to his tongue as he licked it and sucked at it, but a trickle of juice was already running out below it. Mr. Zip saw that he was in danger of making her come too soon with his mouth, so he went beyond, rolling down her stockings to kiss the soft skin of her inner thighs, and to roll his tongue around in the hollow behind her knee.
When returned to her mouth by the same route, Samantha's body was glowing with a fine sheen of sweat, and her breath came in groans. "Come on and fuck me, Mr. Zip, before you tease me to death, just stick that big old prick right into me," she begged.
Her cunt was soaking with juice now as she lifted her ass to meet him, and his prick slid into her like a knife into warm butter. She brought her well-trained muscles into play and tightened her grip on it as he began to slide it in and out. They had fucked together so often that they were like a pair of musicians, each adjusting instinctively to the rhythm the other wanted. Mr. Zip started out slowly, but Samantha wanted to pick up the beat constantly. Soon they were fucking a long, staccato burst, with Mr. Zip's prick pushing in and out like a high-speed piston.
"Oh my God, Mr. Zip, you're going to wear it right out," shrieked Samantha, her teeth chattering with the beat of their rapid-fire fuck. "I swear you're going to-Oh-Oh-Oh-that's it!"
Her voice broke off in a scream, just as Zip's prick exploded in a burst of hot juice that shot into her like the blast of a fire hose. They collapsed together in a limp pile of sweating flesh, breathing hard as long-distance runners while their juices flowed and mingled together.
Heaving a deep sigh of satisfaction, Mr. Zip rolled off her body and inspected his wristwatch. It was eight-thirty, and it looked like he was going to be late for work, but he wanted to have a look at the new maid before he left.
"What do you think of the new maid, Samantha? I haven't seen her yet."
Samantha let out a shuddering sigh and opened her eyes, bringing herself out of ecstatic trance. "She's a real doll, Mr. Zip. We're going to have a lot of fun together. Remember that night you took me and Ingrid to bed, and you took turns fucking us all night long? You sure can fuck, Mr. Zip, me and Ingrid were walking around bowlegged for a week after that."
"I hope you explained what her duties are as far as I'm concerned," Zip said.
"I sure did, boss, and she can't wait to get started. I think she's got a chronic case of hot pussy."
"Well, she'll never replace you, Sam," said Mr. Zip, patting her on the ass. "You're the best. Where is she?"
"She's in the library, dusting off the bookshelves. I better get back to see what the Mrs. wants next, myself," said Sam, zipping up her brief dress quickly and leaving the den.
Zip put his robe back on, but let it flap open to get some air as he walked into the library. He found there was nothing like a little fresh air to wake up a prick that had fallen down on the job.
Mr. Zip had a library that contained thousands of books and films, all of them dealing graphically with sex. He was usually too busy practicing it to study it, though, and so the library gathered a lot of dust that the maids had to keep whisking away regularly. As Mr. Zip entered the room, he saw the new maid standing on a stepladder on the other side of the library, working with a feather duster. She was a blonde, as Ingrid had been, but shorter and plumper. Her hips were wide, but her waist was quite narrow, and her perfectly shaped legs flowed down in delicious curves to her delicately turned ankles.
"Good morning," said Mr. Zip, walking up beside her and placing his hand casually behind her knee.
The girl turned, startled. A whisp of blonde hair hung in disarray over her eye, and her exertions had made her dress slip down so that one of her nipples peeked out like a pink-nosed kitten. She had a tremendous pair of tits, Mr. Zip noted with relish.
"Oh, hello. Are you Mr. Zip?"
"That's right," said Zip, smiling and giving her thigh a little squeeze.
"My name's Irma. Say, did you know that your bathrobe is open?"
Zip looked down. His prick was beginning to stir itself sluggishly at the prospect before it, but it was still only at half-mast. The smell of Samantha's lush cunt still rose from it like musky perfume.
"You're a fine one to talk," said Mr. Zip, reaching up to touch the exposed nipple with his forefinger.
"It's kind of hard to keep this thing together," Irma admitted, smoothing her costume. "I had to let it out, but it still isn't right."
"You should let it out all the time," said Zip, giving her breast a little squeeze and moving his other hand further up her thigh.
"No, I meant the costume, silly!" said Irma. Zip noticed that her gaze kept straying down to his swelling prick in fascination.
Mr. Zip's hand continued past the top of her stocking and was fondling smooth, warm flesh. He was suddenly surprised to touch cloth where he should have been touching hair. "Say, you're wearing panties." said Zip. "Didn't Samantha tell you the rules?"
"Gee, I'm sorry," said Irma. "It's just that I have kind of a big behind, and every time I'd bend over in this thing, I'd be showing off everything I had. I thought you wouldn't mind."
Irma bent over on the stepladder to demonstrate and, sure enough, her skirt rode up to give a splendid view of her ass, unfortunately covered in part by a flimsy pair of black panties. Unable to restrain himself, Mr. Zip pulled the panties down as far as they would go with the garter belt in the way, and gazed admiringly upward with the air of a poet gazing at the beauty of the full moon. Mr. Zip's prick was now as stiff as a board, and he couldn't resist stepping up the ladder behind her and nuzzling her glorious ass with it. Irma squirmed with delight and pushed back against him.
"The only reason I say no panties," said Zip, tracing shining patterns on her smooth skin with the juice dripping from his prick, "is because they get in the way. I'm a pretty busy man, and sometimes I have to fuck on the run, as they say."
"It's alright with me, Mr. Zip, as long as you and your wife don't mind me running around with my ass sticking out all the time," Irma said.
Zip pulled her garter belt, stockings and panties down around her ankles. "I don't mind at all," he said, "and as far as my wife is concerned, I don't think she'd even notice. Now, just bend over again like you were."
Irma bent over obediently, spreading her feet as wide as she could on the stepladder. Zip traced the crack of her ass with his fingertips, following the delicious curve over the delicate rosebud of her asshole to her cunt, which was invitingly open. His fingers, which never refused an invitation like that, continued on inside and explored the wet, hot crevice.
"It's getting awfully warm in here," said Irma, pulling the zipper of her silk minidress and peeling it from her voluptuous curves. With two fingers, Mr. Zip was churning the juice of her cunt into a sizzling foam.
Zip decided the ladder was cramping their style, so he took Irma's ass in his hands to brace her as she came down, hobbled by her underwear and stockings. Irma sat on the floor to take off her shoes and the remains of her clothes, spreading her legs wide and smiling under Mr. Zip's interested inspection.
Mr. Zip sniffed at his two fingers critically. Just as a connoisseur of fine brandy, will warm the glass with his hands and inhale the bouquet of the liquor before sampling it, Mr. Zip, as a connoisseur of cunt, always savored the bouquet of the pussy he was about to enter. He found that sniffing it's odor from his fingers was the best way of doing it; if he put his nose near the cunt, the closeness of the hot box excited his other senses too much to devote his attention entirely to the aroma. He had stopped smoking, because the odor of tobacco on his fingers interfered with this pleasure; and he never washed his hands with anything but a special, odorless soap.
. There was a point, Mr. Zip believed, at which a cunt reached a perfect stage of ripeness. If a girl washed too often and smelled of disinfectant, she never reached it; on the other hand, if she just let herself go completely, and went around smelling like a can of week-old sardines, Mr. Zip was equally dissatisfied . Nobody Mr. Zip had met had the rich, full-bodied aroma of Samantha's cunt when it was ripe; but Irma's individual smell was satisfying, too, with a slight tartness to it that Mr. Zip found particularly pleasing. He smiled at her approvingly.
"Gee, you look just like El Exigente, in the coffee commercials," said Irma. "Do I pass the test?"
"With flying colors," said Zip, then suddenly exclaimed," My God, what a set of jugs!"
He hadn't got a really good look at Irma from the front before, and now he saw that her breasts were even bigger than he had thought at first, huge ones, perfectly formed, with large pink nipples that just begged to be kissed Irma smiled at his examination, pushing her tits up with her hands provocatively. She kept her own eyes hungrily on his prick, which was stretched tight now, and throbbing with excitement.
Mr. Zip knelt over Irma, his knees straddling her at the waist. She propped herself up on her elbows, and he rubbed his prick against her nipples, smearing them with the juice of his cock. Irma put her hand under his balls, weighing them appreciatively before she began stroking and scratching them gently, Mr. Zip then started working on Irma's breasts with his hands, while she devoted all of her attention to his prick. She traced each blue vein in it's white length with her fingertips, while her other hand toyed with the bush of red curls at it's root. Mr. Zip's prick had rather a large head, somewhat the size of a plum, only pink, and Irma was delighted with this, smearing his juice all over it with her thumb.
"I just love to play like this, Mr. Zip, but I'm just dying to fuck now," said Irma. "Please hurry up and fuck me now."
Mr. Zip was never one to refuse a lady's slightest whim, so he led Irma over to a couch, and directed her to kneel down on the floor beside it with her head on the cushions. He had been studying her body with the practiced eye of a skilled craftsman, and he had decided that this was a job that demanded a rear entry. That way, his loins would be in contact with her gorgeous ass and his hands would be free to play with her breasts while he fucked her.
Mr. Zip knelt over her. He never guided his prick with his hand, "It knows where it's going," he used to say, and let it slide down the cleavage of her ass and over the pursed lips of her asshole until it homed in on the open mouth of her cunt. Irma trembled and squealed with delight when she felt the rod shoving into her, and she pounded her little fists against the couch in an excess of pleasure.
Fucking Irma was like dipping his prick into a pot of warm honey, Mr. Zip decided. She was warm and wet and sweet, and her cunt clung to him as he pushed in and out. He was able to thrust his prick in all the way to the root from this position, and his belly was tight against the deliciously smooth curves of her magnificent ass. He leaned heavily on her, his left hand toying with her hard, tightened nipples, while his right hand pinched and pulled at her clit as it swelled with passion.
Irma moved her head off the couch and rested it on the floor, so that she could present her cunt at an even better angle for Zip's thrusting prick. Zip thought he had gone in all the way before, but he seemed to sink even deeper into her hot cunt this way. She squirmed and writhed under him, spreading her knees further apart and trying to draw in every last fraction of an inch of the cock that was giving her so much pleasure.
Mr. Zip was trying to hold himself back and draw out this wonderful fuck for all it was worth. His prick seemed twice it's normal size inside Irma, so stretched and tight with excitement that he was afraid it would go off at any second now. He paused for breath, panting and dripping sweat from his forehead and chin on the rosy swells and hollows of her sweating back. He held his hands on her hips to steady her and warn her that one more wiggle would make him come, and she understood without a word being spoken.
Very slowly and carefully, like an expert pulling the fuse from a live bomb, Mr. Zip pulled his prick out of Irma, watching with fascination as the tool, shining with their juices, emerged from the gold forest of her hairy crotch. Mr. Zip was convinced there was no more beautiful sight in art or nature than a cock joined with a woman's especially if the cock was his. He pulled it out to let some cool air circulate around it, leaving just the head inside the lips of her pussy.
Irma was unwilling to let him get away, and she began moving again, her legs writhing on the rug and her ass giving spasmodic little twitches and wiggles of lust. Mr. Zip held back, though, caressing her hips and thighs and exploring the upper reaches of her cunt with his intrepid fingers while his prick lay in reserve at the source from which all blessings flow.
Just as Mr. Zip thought the danger was over and he had regained enough control over himself to fuck with renewed enthusiasm, Irma took the initiative. She thrust back against him suddenly and knocked him flat on his ass. Then, while Zip lay on his back, she bounced up and down on him, her blonde hair whipping around her shoulders with the violence of her efforts and her lush curves quivering deliciously.
"Fuck-fuck-fuck-FUCK!" screamed Irma, and Mr. Zip wondered what his wife would think of this lovely sentiment, so elegantly expressed, if she overheard it while dawdling over her coffee in the breakfast room down the hall.
Mr. Zip enjoyed feasting his eyes on Irma's lovely back as she humped up and down on him, but he was opposed in principal to women who took too much of the initiative in bed-or wherever else he happened to be fucking them. As he sometimes told aggressive women, "There's only one captain in a ship, Baby, and there's only one prick in a screw." He decided to pull Irma back into line in the interests of getting things off on the right foot, since he planned to be fucking her a lot while she was employed there.
He reached up and grabbed her by the shoulders, pulling her down on top of him. She was in a wild state of excitement, her eyes unfocused, her face flushed and her lips slack. Mr. Zip pushed her off him unceremoniously, then lay on top of her as she sprawled on her back. His prick found its way in again and he began to fuck her fast and furiously, while her legs waved in the air like the wings of a skewered butterfly.
Deep down inside his prick, Mr. Zip felt the glowing tingle of pleasure growing, warning him that his reactor was reaching critical mass. His lips sought Irma's, then he kissed her downy cheek and brought his mouth against her ear, saying, "Come on, Irma, let go of it now-come!"
Back in Irma's throat he heard a high-pitched whine like a mosquito's, a sound that built up and forced itself through her clenched teeth and then changed to a scream of delight. "I-I-I-I'M COMING!" she hollered, just as the tenuous bubble of Zip's last resistance burst. A strangled growl of pleasure escaped his own lips as the hot, arterial spurts pumped out of his prick and flooded her cunt. The electric tension they had built up shuddered out of them, and they lay exhausted on the library floor.
Mr. Zip, like a drowned man coming back from death, began to hear the noises of the house and the sound of birds outside his window. He pushed himself off Irma and looked at his watch. It was after ten now, and he was really late for work.
Irma just lay there, gaping at him with a sort of awe. He ruffled her blonde hair with his hand. "God bless you, Mr. Zip," she breathed. Zip didn't know what to say to that one, so he smiled at her and left.
It didn't take Mr. Zip long to throw his clothes on. Zip believed that he dressed with a certain casual elegance, but the effect it produced actually reminded people of Harpo Marx. He dropped in on his wife, still in her negligee at the breakfast table, as he left.
"That new maid is certainly a noisy little creature," she said. "I heard her shouting something about 'luck' or something at the top of her lungs a while ago."
"Oh, just youthful high spirits, no doubt," said Zip. "I think she'll work out quite nicely. By the way, I may be a little late this evening-I'm getting off to a late start this morning, for some reason."
"Well, that won't matter to me. In case you've forgotten, I'm supposed to go and spend a few days with Aunt Martha."
Mr. Zip was overjoyed, but tried not to let it show. It meant he could invite his friends to a party at the house tonight. Mr. Zip's parties were always wild successes, usually lasting several days, but he seldom had the chance to throw them at his own home.
"And don't think, just because I won't be here, that you can invite all your low-class friends over to wreck the house," added Mrs. Zip.
Mr. Zip scowled behind her back, then kissed her icy cheek and left for work.
CHAPTER TWO
As soon as her husband had left, Mrs. Zip stretched her luxurious body, threw off her negligee and rang for the maids. The screams and shouts from the library-it had sounded like a zoo in there-had filled her with a mixture of loathing and lust: loathing for the dirty things that Mr. Zip was doing to Irma, and lust to do the much nicer things that girls do to each other.
"Open the french doors, Samantha," Mrs. Zip said. "It's such a pleasant day, I think we'll go out and play on the lawn this morning."
As Samantha obeyed her, Mrs. Zip couldn't resist adding a sly jibe: "I guess that new girl took Mr. Zip's mind off you for once."
"Oh, no Ma'am," said Samantha with a giggle. "He got hold of me first, and really socked it to me. I just don't know how that man does it!"
"Oh, you're disgusting!" said Mrs. Zip with a shudder.
Irma staggered in at that moment, her hair in wild disarray and her crotch soaked with a mixture of sweat and semen. "Oh, you poor girl!" cried Mrs. Zip, running to her and putting her arms around her waist. "Was that horrible man doing bad things to you?"
"You better believe it," said Irma, with a beatific smile.
Mrs. Zip pulled Irma's head down to her shoulder and embraced her closely, their breasts pushing together. Mrs. Zip began stroking her back, soothingly, but she ended up compulsively grabbing a handful of Irma's opulent ass. Irma pulled away and looked at her curiously.
"You have such a lovely figure, my dear," said Mrs. Zip, with a reassuring smile. "Get a towel, Samantha, So she can wipe that awful stuff off her poor little twat."
Her arm companionably around Irma's waist, Mrs. Zip led her to the french windows. "It's so lovely out, I thought we'd go and lie in the sun for a while. Would you like that?"
"Oh, yes, Mrs. Zip. You know, I think I'm really going to enjoy working here."
As they walked out on the broad lawn behind Mr. Zip's stately Georgian home, Samantha reappeared with a towel and a basin of water. "Now, you stand on this bench, dear, and we'll clean you right up," said Mrs. Zip.
Irma stood on the marble bench, slightly puzzled. Her cunt was right on a level with Mrs. Zip's face, just inches away, and Mrs. Zip shuddered convulsively with the effort she was making to restrain herself. She was going wild with desire to gobble that golden hair pie. Her throat was dry, and her voice seemed to come out as a croak as she said, "Now spread your legs, dear, and we'll clean you up-wider, now-yes, a little wider."
"I'm going to fall off!"
"No you won't, darling, I'm holding on to you, see?" said Mrs. Zip, putting her shoulder against the inside of Irma's thigh and holding onto her ass with both hands. "Now, clean her off, Samantha."
With the towel dipped in water, Samantha quickly rubbed down Irma's thighs and her cunt, while Mrs. Zip kept her eyes avidly on that delightful little box.
"I think we should examine her, to make sure that beast hasn't hurt her," said Mrs. Zip. "You steady her up there, while I give her a little checkup."
"Oh, but I don't think-" began Irma. "Hush, dear, it's the least we can do-after all, that monster is my husband," said Mrs. Zip, thrusting her forefinger into Irma's cunt. Irma was tightening up a bit, but Mrs. Zip pried the cunt-lips apart with two fingers. "Now don't you worry, I'm just running my finger all around in there-like that-and that-and like that-to make sure there's no damage done."
"I better check her from this side, Mrs. Zip. You never can tell," said Samantha. Mrs. Zip stood back, licking her lips nervously, and watched with pleasure while Samantha pushed two fingers in and out of Irma's cunt with rapid strokes.
"Hey," said Irma, "I never heard of anything like this in my-"
"Now, now, dear, you just can't be too careful after these filthy men have been at you. We're just looking after your best interests. My, don't you look lovely up there-just like a Greek statue!"
Irma was so delighted with the compliment that she forgot momentarily about her suspicions. At Mrs. Zip's suggestion, she pushed up her hair with her hands and turned this way and that on the marble bench, showing off her delicious body from every angle. Mrs. Zip caressed her from all sides as she turned, going wild with passion and trying not to reveal it.
"Now, I wonder if you'd do me a favor, dear," said Mrs. Zip as she helped Irma down from the bench.
"Of course, Mrs. Zip, anything you say."
"Now, I want you to put your fingers inside me, and see if there's anything unusual in there," said Mrs. Zip, lying down on the grass with her legs spread wide apart. "No, it will be more comfortable if you just lie down right on top of me, with your head down at that end. That's right."
"What do I do?" asked Irma. She had never examined a woman's pussy this closely before, and she was fascinated by the parallel pink ridges, flanked by black fleece, that ran between Mrs. Zip's shapely legs.
"Well, you just put your finger inside there, and run it back and forth, and tell me if you notice anything out of the ordinary. Sometimes it takes a while-yes, that's it, only faster-and further in, yes-keep it up!"
Irma didn't understand all this, but it was fun, sort of. Mrs. Zip was doing something to her own cunt that felt very good-only Mrs. Zip was using her mouth. She heard the sound of lip-smacking slurps behind her. Irma decided to do the same thing to Mrs. Zip, and she heard Mrs. Zip moaning with pleasure around a mouthful of her own cunt.
Irma stopped suddenly as a thought struck her. "You know, if you were a man, Mrs. Zip, I'd say we were playing sixty-nine," she said.
"Well, obviously neither one of us is a man, so that can't be, can it?" said Mrs. Zip, interrupting her labors.
"I guess that's right," said Irma, as she went back to sucking Mrs. Zip's cunt. Irma was having a good time, but she couldn't rid herself of the notion that there might be something sexual behind all this good, clean, girlish fun. Of course, she's heard somewhere that psychiatrists believed everything was motivated by sex, so maybe that was why she felt this way. She'd also heard about bad women-lesbians, she thought they were called-who did naughty things with one another and didn't like men. That certainly didn't apply to Irma; nothing could ever take the place of a hot cock up her middle. As for Mrs. Zip, she was married, so she couldn't be one of those. She knew that Samantha fucked with Mr. Zip all the time, too, so she couldn't be queer. What they were doing must be okay.
Sucking Mrs. Zip was lots of fun, but Irma decided it wasn't as enjoyable as blowing a man. A man, with his big tool sticking out of his groin, had something you could really work on and fill your mouth with. Then there were his balls and his asshole to lick-a whole world of enjoyment to explore. A woman's clitoris was sort of like a prick, though. Mrs. Zip's was like a fat little sausage in a tight skin, or half of one anyway, between her loose cunt-lips. Like a prick, it became hotter and tighter as she licked it, but there was really no comparison. She did enjoy the delightful tickles of Mrs. Zip's black pubic hair on her nose and chin; when a man had a big prick, it was difficult for her to get close enough to enjoy that sensation while sucking him off.
Irma decided to do a little exploring, and let her tongue stray beyond the confines of pussy-on-the-half-shell to the tight little bud of Mrs. Zip's asshole-but she was rewarded immediately with a smart slap on her ass from Mrs. Zip.
"Now, you stop that, Irma," said Mrs. Zip. "I'd better warn you right now that we don't do indecent things like that around here. Let's change over now, and you be on the bottom for a while."
Chastened by the rebuke, Irma rolled off Mrs. Zip and stretched luxuriously on the warm, soft grass, spreading her legs wide apart and letting the sun flood over her succulent body. Mrs. Zip climbed aboard, and Irma saw the pleasing prospect of her employer's ass and hairy crotch lowering itself to meet her mouth. Now, it was a little easier to reach the juicy crevice, and she thrust her tongue into it as far as it would go. Mrs. Zip squealed and wiggled with pleasure, and paid Irma back by redoubling her own skillful efforts on her hot pussy.
"Now, what are you doing, Samantha?" said Mrs. Zip, raising her dripping chin for a moment from Irma's fleecy goodies.
"Yes, Ma'am," said Samantha, who had been watching this tangle of lovely white arms and legs thrashing in the sunlight with slowly growing desire. She knelt beside the two, giving her own cunt a quick massage before she put two fingers of her right hand inside Mrs. Zip's cunt and two from her left hand inside Irma. With Sam briskly working at their cracks, each girl could devote all her attentions to the other's clitoris.
Irma's own left hand strayed over the grass until it found Samantha's beautifully smooth knee. She ran her fingers up the dusky thigh until they touched wooly curls-and, surprisingly, another hand! Irma's view was blocked by the pink and white hemispheres of Mrs. Zip's wiggling ass, but she decided the hand must be Mrs. Zip's. Samantha was really busy, meanwhile, and had managed to force three fingers inside Irma's cunt, using them in a way that would do credit to a first-rate prick.
Mrs. Zip settled the complicated boundary dispute of Samantha's pussy by guiding Irma's hand down to the tunnel of love and taking the upper regions for herself. Irma found that three of her fingers slid easily into the colored girl's pussy, and she was soon giving the other maid just as good as she was getting.
Irma was becoming desperately excited, and she found it hard to keep up a steady rhythm in Samantha's cunt as little twitches and muscular jerks shuddered through her body. Samantha's insistent beat in her own cunt kept on going, and that amazing hand was driving her right up to the brink of orgasm. She felt Mrs. Zip's body growing tense above her, too, and believed that she was on the verge of coming. She was convinced, now, that there must be something sexual about all this, but she just didn't give a damn anymore. It was too much fun.
Mrs. Zip's pussy juice began flowing more freely now. The sticky liquid dribbled from Samantha's busy fingers and fell on Irma's face, and she felt her own cunt growing wetter and wetter. Her hand left Samantha's cunt as she gripped Mrs. Zip by the ass, as if to hold on, when a tremendous surge of pleasure flooded through her and ebbed like a great wave, then rolled in again with even greater force and swept her whirling away on an ocean of delight.
It seemed like hours that she lay there, just savoring the tingles of erotic joy that ran through her body in little shivering wavelets, but it could only have been a minute before Mrs. Zip broke into her daze by saying, "Come on, we've had our fun, but we have to take care of poor Samantha."
They had excited the other girl up to the brink of orgasm, but hadn't quite pulled her over. She was sitting on the grass, legs apart, frantically rubbing her pussy and whipping her hair about in an impatient frenzy of passion.
Mrs. Zip motioned Irma to follow her, and together they pushed Samantha down on the grass. Mrs. Zip began kissing Samantha's left breast and fondling it with her left hand, while Irma worked on the right one. At the same time, their free hands were busy on Samantha's cunt-Mrs. Zip pumping away with her fingers while Irma teased and tickled the moist clit.
Irma was delighted with the boob in her mouth, and with the smooth texture of the tan skin. It was still not like sucking a prick, but it was certainly a more satisfying mouthful than a cunt. Irma just couldn't encompass the big brown tit, even though she stretched her jaws as wide as they would go. The nipple provided a pleasing contrast in texture, with tiny bumps that delighted her flicking tongue, and it shrank and hardened under her enthusiastic treatment. Samantha's hands roved over their buttocks, kneading the firm flesh and pulling the two other girls into closer contact with her.
Mrs. Zip believed Irma was seasoned enough now to handle Samantha's tits by herself, so she slid down and seized the maid's cunt in her mouth. Irma was delighted to have the lovely boobs to herself, and she just went wild trying to decide which one to lavish her affections on. They were equally good, and she tried to give them equal time by working on one with her hands while her mouth busied itself with the other.
Samantha began tugging at her ass now, and Irma was a little puzzled about what was going to happen next. The first tingles of fresh excitement ran through her as one of Samantha's hands found her crotch. Following Samantha's pushes, she turned around, and Samantha's lips and tongue gobbled hungrily at her cunt. She, in turn, found her own mouth only inches away from Mrs. Zip's hot box, so she pushed forward and slurped at it while Mrs. Zip did the same to Samantha. They lay there on the grass in a writhing triangle of flesh, legs interweaving and hands fondling indiscriminately, while lips and tongues sucked and slurped pussy.
It was Samantha who broke the daisy chain, squealing with joy as her body went rigid and she came, for the first time in their play.
Mrs. Zip and Irma sat back beside each other, not wanting to continue at too fast a pace until Sam was ready to catch up with them again. They fondled each other's cunt gently as they talked, just enough to keep the electric charge of excitement from flickering completely out.
"Well, dear, do you think you'll like working here at Zip Manor?" said Mrs. Zip.
"Oh, I sure will," said Irma. "This morning was just one big kick."
"And the day's only begun," said Mrs.
Zip, giving her clit a playful little pinch. "We girls can play games like this all afternoon, if you like."
"I'd really love to-and then do you suppose Mr. Zip would like to fuck me again when he comes home? I don't want to seem ungrateful or anything, but I really dig that scene a lot more."
"Oh, let's not think about such vile things, dear. You'll spoil my whole day if you go on like that about that beastly fucking. That's what animals do, you know."
"Well, if you like to suck, you might try sucking his prick-it really is a lot like this, and I can't say I ever saw an animal do it."
"That will do, Irma," said Mrs. Zip, punctuating her rebuke with a pinch that stung Irma's clit. "You can blow him till your ears fall off, if you want to, but just don't talk to me about it."
Irma decided that was fair enough. If Mrs. Zip didn't want to fuck, that was her problem, and there was no point in trying to convince her that it was the greatest thing in the world. Besides, that meant Mr. Zip would have all the more to give her.
Irma closed her eyes and thought of the next time she would be with Zip. All that filled her mind was the image of Zip's taut, red hot cock wavering like a fat hotdog in her mind. She licked her lips at the thought of all that juicy meat that would fill her mouth to the point of overflowing, and all of the succulent white cream made her shiver with anxiety. Yes, she thought, Zip certainly would have more to give her!
CHAPTER THREE
As a marriage of convenience, the Zip nuptials were the best thing that ever happened to either of them. Mrs. Zip was the heiress to a small, conservative publishing firm that turned a tidy profit each year but had no prospects of making her rich. Mr. Zip, who had a checkered career in newspapers and magazine writing, convinced her that he was just the man to take it over and make them both rich. He convinced her so well that she decided to cement the partnership by leading him into marriage.
To go along with the trade journals and other moldy much that the company published, Mr. Zip created a new, glossy magazine devoted to sexual research. The magazine's big selling point was full-color pictures of men and women in various sexual positions, each accompanied by an explanation in high-tone technical jargon by doctors and psychologists. To give the magazine greater respectability and to keep the law off his neck, Zip found a dummy research foundation-the Zip Institute-staffed by the quacks who lent their names to the magazine.
One of the magazine's regular features, Zip's own brainchild, was a monthly questionnaire on the sex life of the readers to be filled out and returned to the Institute. The results were tabulated and published in a subsequent issue, giving everyone who had done the quiz a chance to see how his sex life stacked up against the national norm. Even Zip was surprised by the enthusiasm of the responses. They poured in by the thousands, by the tens of thousands. It seemed that everybody in America wanted to know how good he or she was in bed, compared to their friends and neighbors.
One of these questionnaires launched Zip on his rocketing ride to flamboyant success. It posed the question: "Would you have intercourse with a person unknown to you, under laboratory supervision, for the purpose of advancing scientific knowledge?"
The response was staggering. The vast majority of Yes answers came from men, of course, but even so there were 2,000 women who expressed an interest in giving their all for science-and who included their return addresses and phone numbers-and even their vital statistics and personal photos, in some cases.
Mr. Zip and his cronies nearly ran over each other in their haste to go out and do research on these ladies, each armed with the elaborate credentials and honorary titles conferred on them by the Zip Institute. After weeding out the dogs, the senior citizens, the cripples, the transvestites and the lunatics, Zip and his men had narrowed their field down to a hard core of fifty delicious swingers who really believed they were putting out for science.
A few months of hard work passed on the laboratory couches until Mr. Zip realized that his devotion to pure research was driving his business into the ground. In a burst of genius, he began charging fees from any man who wanted to do research work with the girls.
With the money, he was able to pay the girls regular salaries and set up the first of many "Research Centers," each consisting of a large waiting room and a number of cubicles containing nothing but a bed, a chair-and a shapely female Researcher. For the sake of further respectability, each Researcher had a degree in Psychosexology from a fully accredited Mickey Mouse college-Zip U. that Zip had founded in a midwestern state with lenient laws about such places.
With great business acumen, Zip stopped charging $50 a throw for the Researchers' services and began signing their patrons up to long term contracts, filled with all sorts of hidden charges. What they got for their money was unlimited access to any of the girls they wanted during working hours from noon to midnight. The subject could take in as many Researchers at a time as the bed would hold, if he wanted to, provided enough girls were available at the time. The client also got a monthly "personal report" on his sexual ability, compiled by the girls from a thick book of vague generalities made up for the purpose. A computerized filing system made sure no one received the same analysis twice.
Nobody had ever applied the modern techniques of high-powered American business to the whorehouse before, and Mr. Zip's efforts were crowned with fantastic success. Once in his clutches, a subject was pressured into signing up for all kinds of long-term self-improvement plans, book clubs, record clubs, film clubs. He could even buy color movies of himself in action with the Researchers, complete with stereo sound and a running commentary of pseudo-scientific nonsense.
There was a storm of protest, of course, from press, police and pulpit as Mr. Zip's Research Centers began opening their doors in every city and large town in the United States. One newspaper described him as "a common pimp who, shrouding himself in a smokescreen of scientific gibberish and arming himself with the weapons of the jet-age snake oil salesman, has spread his vile tentacles across this land to become the most evilly successful whoremaster in the history of the world."
Lawmen threw the book at Mr. Zip and his cohorts, but high-priced legal talent kept them in business while the appeals dragged on and on. While the cases were pending, a crazy stroke of luck gave Mr. Zip some unexpected help. Some of the genuine scientists he employed, working in a real laboratory, accidentally came up with a 100 per cent effective vaccine against syphilis. Mr. Zip became a sort of embarrassing national hero.
Mr. Zip now had 15,000 Psychosexologists on his payroll, all but a few cynics among them genuinely believing that they were doing important, exciting work as they compiled their silly statistics, wrote their ridiculous reports, and fucked their heads off.
The best of these were some twenty girls in the main office of the Zip Institute who devoted their time to a personal research project on Mr. Zip himself. Zip devoted long working days to pure research, in company with the most devastating pieces of tail in his vast empire. There was a desk in his huge office, but the central piece of furniture was a vast round bed on a raised platform, illuminated by diffused floodlighting and surrounded by mirrors and movie cameras.
Mr. Zip entered the building by his private entrance and went up to the office in his private elevator, to avoid all the people who no doubt wanted to disrupt his day with a thousand and one petty details and decisions. Zip flipped a button on his intercom to let his secretary know he was ready for the Researchers. Mr. Zip was always curious to see who would work on him, since the girls made up their own schedules-and even out of the top twenty, some were better than others.
He wasn't disappointed this morning. The three girls who marched in with their pads and pencils were the cream of the cunt crop, proven champions whose mouth-watering cunts would someday be immortalized in bronze, Zip vowed, in a Pussy Hall of Fame he planned to establish.
The three of them were dressed in the uniform of the Zip Institute Researcher--see through white blouses and bright red micro miniskirts, so short that one could see the abbreviated black panties at their crotches. On the front and back of these skirts, in white letters, was embroidered the legend: "ZIP IN!"-short for Zip Institute, as he always seemed to be explaining to people with dirty minds.
Mr. Zip mentally reviewed their qualifications as the three girls began making their preparations at the bed. First there was Edith-who would rather fuck than eat, unless what she was eating was cock. Called Edie by her friends but Eatin behind her back, which was the best place to be, for behind her back you could explore the handholds and footholds and mouth holds and prick holds of her unbelievable ass, an ass that demanded to be grabbed and kneaded and rummaged in and rampaged over as you pushed your prick deeper and deeper into her scrumptious cunt; chestnut curls, sparkling blue eyes with dark lashes, long, long legs and a pair of tits like melons-there you had Eatie the Eat-In, about to be eaten.
Mr. Zip next considered Wanda-Wanda the Witch, who knew which way to twitch and tickle your prick with her snatch-whose cunt slurped up cock like a mouth slurps up oysters, the fabulous Field Marshal of Fucking who could take on a dozen men in half an hour and leave them limp and bleeding semen on the glorious battleground of her body. Black hair-black as a witch's midnight, hair that tangled over your eyes and concealed the acute agony of your pleasure; cool gray eyes that dreamed of undreamed orgies, eyes where you could sink your mind and drown it while you sank your prick between her pumping legs. Wanda, wonderful woman, the womb-man is coming!
Mr. Zip rose from his desk and approached them as he thought of Sandy, always handy, always randy, with a cunt like ginger candy-ginger hair, and your finger would linger in the ginger bush between her legs, a tart cunt that smelled of sour apples while you scrabbled at her nipples and scrunched in your prick. Alexandra the Great-great in bed, or on a table, or on a chair, or in the back seat of your car or in the middle of a deserted street at midnight-always great, always ready. A polarized swinger who always swung for the pole, a flexible flyer who flew for your cock at the drop of her pants. That was Sandy, her cow-brown eyes always sympathetically on your problem, no matter how hard it was.
"Good morning, Mr. Zip!" they chorused brightly as he approached the bed. Sandy was at the camera boom, her leg hitched up to give an unashamed view of the wispy panties stretched over her crotch-so tight that the dear little mounds and the crack down the middle were outlined in black nylon, with little curls of ginger hair peeking out at the edges.
Wanda had her notebook and pencil out, and Edie was sitting on the bed in an inviting pose-apparently she was to be the primary target for today's mission. Wanda put down her notebook and pencil and came to him, taking his hand to lead him forward and fumbling at his fly with her other hand.
"Why, Mr. Zip! You're lying down on the job. You're about as hard as a foam rubber pillow," Wanda complained.
Sandy bounced over to inspect this phenomenon and agreed with her colleague. "It's big enough," she said, opening his fly and letting the delinquent member flop into her hand, "but there's no-if you'll pardon the expression-zip in it."
They all giggled over that one, and Zip's prick stirred sluggishly as Sandy's expert fingers stroked and pulled at it.
"It would be like trying to push a worm through a piece of cardboard," said Edie glumly as she came down to feel the rubbery tool for herself. On a hunch, she knelt down and sniffed it, and her suspicions were confirmed. "Oh, Mr. Zip, you're just impossible! Of all people, you should know how important this research is, and here you've wasted a day by fucking somebody before you even come to work-without controlled laboratory conditions or anything.
It's just awful!"
"How many pieces did you have, Mr. Zip?" asked Wanda, picking up her notebook and pencil again.
"Just two," said Mr. Zip. He was becoming slightly miffed, not only by his own disappointing performance, but by their patronizing attitude. "Now, you know darn well that's nothing for me-I can knock off a dozen pieces of tail a day, and still be ready to go all night. If you girls just gave it a little effort, it would be up and at you in a second."
"Well, maybe you're right," agreed Edie, now that he'd made it a professional challenge to her. She went back to the bed platform to do a slow striptease calculated to excite him. Meanwhile, Sandy and Wanda stripped him of his own clothes, pausing now and then to tickle his prick and see how it was doing.
Smiling seductively at him, Edie began to unbutton her blouse with agonizing slowness. The white, see-through material hid nothing at all, but even the slight gauzy haze was provocative-Zip wanted to see those bulging boobs clearly, with no covering at all. When the blouse gaped free at the center, she didn't peel it from her body, but took an even longer and more maddening time to undo the buttons of the cuffs. When they were loose, she turned her back on Zip and wiggled her torso until the silken fabric fell free and floated to the floor-but when she turned around to face him again, her hands covered the gorgeous globes as completely as they could.
She looked down at her right breast, pouting, then looked up coyly at Mr. Zip as two fingers parted slightly, like a sly wink, to reveal her succulent pink nipple. Then she gave up her breasts to his eyes, wiggling and making them jump and jiggle as she leaned forward over the platform and bounced them at his face.
With her two forefingers, she traced circles around the pink summits of the two natural wonders; then her hands slid down her body with luxurious sensuality, achingly slow, until they came to the button of the zipper at the side of her dress.
"Guess what I've got for you under here, Mr. Zip," said Edie, Spreading her legs wide apart and thrusting her mound of Venus forward.
Mr. Zip swallowed dryly and gasped, "I bet it's just what I've always wanted."
Wanda, beside him, squealed with delight at a sudden discovery. "You've done it, Edie-he's as hard as a rock! Now, that's what I call a hard-on, Zip."
"I guess we can get started," said Sandy, going back to her camera.
"No," said Edie as Zip started eagerly for her. "I want you really hard, Mr. Zip-I mean, really hard. When you stick that pole into me, I want it so hot and big that it will just fill me up to here," she said, in a low, sexy voice, pulling her two hands up the covered V of her crotch to the middle of her belly to demonstrate.
Edie took another ten minutes to fiddle with the fastenings of her skirt, twisting this way and that as she did so to display her long, lovely body from every angle, until finally the skirt dropped around her ankles and she tiptoed daintily out of it. She toyed with her brief panties, pulling the elastic down a couple of inches at a time, then pulling it modestly up-so that it stretched tight over her cunt and displayed its classic outlines in bold relief.
It was all Mr. Zip could do to keep his hands off her, but he wanted to play her game fairly and let her draw it out as long as she wanted. His prick almost reached out to touch her by itself, trembling in a tight agony and dripping little beads of dew from its stiff head.
Edie pushed her panties down just a little further this time, enough to reveal the top fringe of the curls that swirled down between her ivory thighs. She pulled them up again, though, and sat down on the bed with her legs wide apart as she began removing her shoes.
It took an eternity to get her shoes off and reveal her finely arched feet, and Mr. Zip, literally drooling at the mouth, took an involuntary step forward as if his prick were dragging him toward her.
Then she lay on the bed, rolling about and posturing lasciviously while she pulled and tugged at her panties, gradually peeling them off inch by slow inch. When they finally came down, her back was toward him, and Zip's first view of this hidden land of a thousand delights was of the magnificent, swelling hemispheres of her gorgeous pink and white ass. She writhed around to show her cunt in all its hairy glory as the pants slid down over her thighs, her knees, her calves, her ankles-and finally her legs were free, and she spread them wide apart as she lay flat on her back and beckoned to Mr. Zip.
"Come and stick it in me, Zip, what are you waiting for?"
Mr. Zip's gallant commander-in-chief, the noble prick, was far in advance of the assault, but Zip scrambled after it gamely and flung himself into the breech. His prick knew what to do, and went right in for its objective without any hesitation at all, but Mr. Zip was so excited he couldn't seem to decide which part of Edie to grab and fondle and kiss while he fucked her.
As his prick slid back and forth in that lubricous cunt, Mr. Zip's mouth and tongue tangled with hers, and he went on to kiss her chin, her eyes, her ears, then down her neck to her shoulders and armpits, while one hand grabbed at her ass and another played with a tit.
"This is just wonderful," said Wanda, with the hot, avid eyes of a skilled Researcher, "he's just wild for it now."
"She's not doing too badly herself," said Sandy, watching the way Edie was humping her ass up and down and all but squeezing Zip to death in the lock of her lovely legs.
"Fuck me fuck me fuck me fuck me fuck me!" said Edie.
Wanda forgot about the notes she was supposed to be making and began stroking Mr. Zip's plunging ass. She sat on the bed beside' them, stroking down over his thighs and into his hairy crotch, the very center of the hot, mad action, and began teasing at his bouncing balls.
"Why does Edie have all the fun today!" she said in a sudden fit of envy, giving Zip's balls a quick squeeze.
"Ouch!" said Zip. "Cut that out, Wanda. I'm going to save some for you."
Sandy had been working her camera all this while, zooming in and out on the fun and making a record of it for their research files. She decided that Zip and Edie weren't showing enough for a good film record, though, so she suggested that they adopt a new position. Agreeably, Mr. Zip sat up, still joined to Edie by his tool, and worked his legs around until his feet were at her shoulders. Then he lay on his back, and the camera had an unobscured view of the thick white prick sliding in and out of Edie's burning bush. Things went slower this way, but it was still a delicious experience for the partners in this lovely, tingling fuck.
The camera had a good view, and so did Wanda, who lost all her last vestiges of self-control when she saw this beautiful sight. Whipping off her clothes, she dived into the bed and attacked the point of union with her lips and tongue.
"Now cut that out, Wanda, you're screwing up the movie," said Sandy.
"Oh, I don't care! I want it!" said Wanda, slobbering around a mixed salad of cunt and prick.
Mr. Zip reached a new level of thrills as he felt Wanda licking his prick every time he drew it slowly out of Edie's hot crotch. When he slid it back, Edie gave an extra little shudder of enjoyment, and Zip knew that Wanda must be working on her clit whenever his prick was unavailable. With such a gorgeous display of male and female goodies under her nose, she was sampling them both with equal enjoyment.
The joint assault was too much for Edie, and her thighs began quivering stiffly along Zip's sides. Zip drove in and out as fast as he could in this awkward position and Wanda, sensing .what was happening, gave Edie's swelling clit all of her attention. "Oh oh oh," said Edie, "it's coming-it's coming-it's COMING!"
She thrashed about wildly in her ecstasy, plunging her body again and again against the pole that impaled her until her orgasm was spent and she lay limp and shaking.
Mr. Zip was still far from limp, though, and as soon as Edie had exhausted the limits of her pleasure, he popped it out of her cunt and right into Wanda's greedy mouth. Needing a short rest after his exertions with Edie, he propped himself up on his elbows and watched with delighted interest while Wanda worked on him.
He brushed aside her long black hair for a better view, and saw that she was taking his prick into her mouth as far as it would go. Her cheeks were hollowed and her lovely lips pushed out as she clamped the stem in her powerful suck. He felt her tongue darting all over his prick as she worked, sliding her mouth up and down on the pole. Her mouth was as warm and juicy as a cunt, and that flickering tongue massaging his prick from head to stem made him shudder with delight.
He lay back luxuriously, enjoying this expert workout to the fullest. Glancing up, he saw that Sandy was ignoring her camera for the moment and was fondling her own box as the electric sexual excitement in the air reached her.
Mr. Zip reached for Wanda's rosy legs and judged her until she had moved her cunt over his face. He lay still for a moment, admiring the awe-inspiring view of the hairy valley set between the two perfect white mounds of her ass, and saw that all the pink pleasures in the box were moist with sticky dew. He ran his finger gently around the outside circumference of the long, leaf-shaped cunt, brushing aside a straying black curl here and there for a better view. Then, moistening his finger with his tongue, he took the high road, stroking the tip of the lips as he took the same elliptical course around her cunt. Little earthquakes shook the delightful valley as Wanda twitched and wiggled with glee, but Mr. Zip was not deterred from making a bold exploration into the interior. Over the hairy forest at the mound of Venus his finger came until he reached the central promontory, and his finger circled all around it and crossed over it to plunge into the hidden mystery of the red cave at it's base.
Wanda sucked and slurped at his prick with renewed fury, her wet tongue roving all over it, and Zip realized he was about to come. He pressed his mouth against the cave and sucked, then thrust his tongue in to its root, and then Zip came like a gushing fountain in her mouth, furiously spraying his juices back over her tongue. She sucked and kissed it until it gave its last dying beat, until the last available driblets had pumped out of it, then rolled off him.
"Oh, get it up again, Zip," she moaned, "get it up and stick it in me, I'm just going out of my mind."
The sight of Wanda with his own juice dribbling over her lips and the memory of her beautiful cunt over his face inflamed Zip again, but this time his desire ran ahead of his prick. It hadn't shrunk all the way, the heat of the excitement was too great, but it still wasn't hard enough for strenuous duty.
"Get one up for me, too, Zip," said Sandy. Unnoticed, she had torn off her own clothes during the mad action and was kneeling behind Zip, rubbing her nipples against his back.
Mr. Zip believed his first duty was to Wanda, though, since she was already inflamed by his attentions and ready to go off like a bomb on a short fuse. He used both hands to play with her cunt while she twisted and wiggled on the bed in a paroxysm of delight.
Sandy wasn't content to be left out in the cold, though, and she squirmed around Zip until she was lying next to Wanda. She spread her thighs, one of them falling over Wanda's thigh, and displayed her ginger bush side by side with the lovely witch's cauldron.
"Come on, Mr. Zip, maybe you don't have two pricks, but at least you have two hands," begged Sandy.
Unable to resist a double feature like this, Mr. Zip began stroking Sandy's hot cunt with his right hand while his left still worked on Wanda. It was a pleasing contrast in sensations for Mr. Zip. The lips of Wanda's cunt were loose, the juice flowing free and some of it lathering into a foam from the energy of his exertions; her clit was tight and springy to his touch. Sandy's cunt was still closed like a prim little mouth, with no noticeable swelling yet at her clit.
Wanda, her lust stoked up to a screaming pitch, was ready to grab anything she could use to drive her passion even higher. She turned on her side and pulled Sandy toward her. Their delicious boobs melded together as they hugged each other and kissed passionately.
At Zip's end of the action, they were pressing and rubbing their clits against each other in a fury of passion, but they both had enough sense to keep their legs spread wide enough for the maestro to have plenty of room to exercise his skills on this dual keyboard. Sandy's juice was coming more and more copiously, and both the hair on the black box and the hair on the ginger box were soaked and sticky.
What they didn't know was that Mr. Zip had more to work with than his hands now. His groggy prick had pulled itself off the deck and was ready to wade in for another slugging match. It was still not up to its peak of stiffness, but it was still firm enough to give a good account of itself.
Mr. Zip eased his hips between the girls' sprawling legs as carefully as he could, wanting to surprise them. Facing Wanda's back, he rammed his prick into her box up to the hilt with a sudden motion, and she shivered all over in shocked delight.
"He's in me, Sandy! He's in me! He's fucking me! Oh!" squealed Wanda.
"Give me some, Zip, give me some, too," Sandy hissed pressing her cunt tighter against Wanda's to gain some fringe benefit from the internal combustions.
A few strokes inside Wanda's turbulent pussy had made him hard as a rock again, and he felt able to take on the job of unveiling Sandy's main attraction. Pulling out of Wanda, he moved down an inch or so until his prick brushed the lips of Sandy's cunt, and he slid into her.
"I've got it now," laughed Sandy. "Oh, my God, have I got it, it's so good!"
"Give it back! I had it first, Zip," cried Wanda, squirming her cunt up tight against the action.
When Sandy's cunt, hot and tight at first, had juiced itself into a silken smooth passage of pleasure, Zip slid out of her and gave Wanda a few more strokes, then back to Sandy's box, then to Wanda's , back and forth, faster and faster, hardly skipping a beat with either of the lovely girls as his prick flew between them with the rapid, hammering precision of a machine. The girls were both perfectly happy with this arrangement now and they stopped teasing each other about sharing the wealth. While Zip slaved over their pussies, they grabbed and fondled and kissed each other with steadily mounting passion.
Wanda began thrashing about wildly and groaning with delight. Her pleasure was coming to a crest, and Mr. Zip decided to use all his powers to send her into orbit. His prick stayed in her for a dozen rapid-fire strokes, fifteen, twenty of them, faster and faster, and then she vaulted over the top of her orgasm with a wild, drawn-out wail of joy.
She rolled aside as Zip let her go, content to float away on the depths of her pleasure by herself, and Zip threw himself on Sandy to give her all the benefit of his fantastic sex organ.
What with all the fucking he'd already done that morning, Mr. Zip was in no danger of coming immediately. His cock was hard as it ever was, but he knew it would be a long time before he would reach the peak of his pleasure. He gave Sandy a steady, rapid, workman-like fuck. With each stroke she squirmed a little more, sighed a little louder and gripped him a little harder with her long legs. He played in and out of the stubbled musk of her armpits and down over her ripe breasts with his hungry mouth while he screwed her.
Meanwhile, Edie had pulled out of her languid screwphoria and was ready to go again. Mr. Zip felt her rubbing her long, voluptuous body against his back and grabbing at his ass as he worked on Sandy.
"Oh go away, Edith!" cried Sandy when she saw what was happening. "This is my fuck, and I don't want you screwing it up."
"How can you screw up a fuck, dummy? Besides, it's my turn on the research bed, remember? What happened to that camera you're supposed to be working?"
"You, you, oh, oh, oh, Mr. Zip!, you fell down on the job, Edie, you were loafing and we, oh, oh, had to fill in for you, so go play with yourself now and leave us alone," Sandy said, hardly able to keep her mind on the conversation with the stiff prick lunging and plunging in her.
"Fuck you, Sandy, but I really mean, fuck me, Mr. Zip," said Edie, whispering the last part in his ear.
"We have all day, girls, and you'll all get what's coming to you," said Mr. Zip, always the peacemaker.
"Prick power, Now!" cried Edie, who was a wild-eyed militant when it came to fucking.
Pushing herself down the bed, she shoved her head between Mr. Zip's thighs and began licking and sucking his balls. Her tongue roved over the hairy sack of sporting equipment while it jiggled and bounced with the rhythm of his attentions to Sandy.
"Oh, you dirty slut!" shouted Sandy, wiggling around to get a look at what Edie was doing. "You stay out of my party!"
"Well, I'm crashing it," Edie mumbled around her mouthful. Then she began her assault in earnest: she gripped the hair of Zip's balls with her teeth and pulled.
The pain, and the horrifying prospect of bald balls, forced Mr. Zip to pull his prick out of Sandy's cunt. Sandy squealed with anger, but before either of them could do anything, Edie had writhed around beneath Zip and captured his prick in her mouth.
There was no question about, Edie was a great eater. The section of her mouth was so tinglingly alive and wet and warm that Zip forgot for the moment about the spicy ginger cunt he had just left. He resumed a kneeling position to get a good look at the curly chestnut hair beneath him, and at the full red lips that pushed and pulled his slimy-shiny wet rod with the loving care of a real blowjob artist.
Meanwhile, Sandy was writhing around on the bed, wild with frustration. The Zip Institute had firm rules against violence between girls in situations like this, but Sandy, top-notch Researcher though she was, was just about ready to break it by giving Edie a good, swift kick in her lovely ass, Her professional training came through, though, and she satisfied herself with thrusting her wet, open cunt before Zip and trying to lure him back into its chamber of delights.
"Oh Zip, what's a lousy blowjob when you can have a real piece of ass?" demanded Sandy, wiggling her best feature seductively.
Torn by indecision between these two delightful targets for his cock, Mr. Zip pulled free of Edie, whose mouth gave a loud smacking noise as the suction was released.
"I've got a cunt, too, Mr. Zip," said Edie, wiggling up beside Sandy and thrusting out her own box. The hair around it was still matted with the dried juice of their last lovely fuck.
Sighing resignedly as the morning's work piled up, Mr. Zip flung himself into the job with the no-nonsense attitude that marks a really high-powered executive, giving first Edie a few strokes of his prick, then going over to Sandy for a couple of rounds, then back to Edie, and then, surprise! to Wanda, who had joined the party, then back to Sandy, and so Zip's morning passed in strenuous research.
Mr. Zip dismissed the girls and took a shower in his private bath shortly before one o'clock, to clean off the sweat he had built up from the morning's exertions, along with the dried and blended juiced of all that marvelous fucking. He had a luncheon engagement with Dr. Ralph O'Toole, an old friend and long-time member of the Zip Institute.
Dr. O'Toole held his degree, in Psychosexology, of course, from Zip U., and his doctoral thesis had been entitled: "How Come Donald Duck Wears a Shirt and No Pants All the Time, Only When He Takes a Shower He Wraps a Towel Around His Ass and Doesn't Wear a Shirt?" It had been hailed as a masterpiece of brilliant analysis by Mr. Zip, who was, after all, president and dean and board of trustees of the college all by himself.
Dr. Ralph O'Toole was more familiarly known by everyone at the Institute as Ralph the Rapist. It seems he couldn't get a hard-on unless the lady of his choice put up at least an imitation struggle. The fact that the girls at the Zip Institute were willing to do this probably saved Ralph from actually raping someone and getting sent up for it.
Barring a struggle, the only other thing that could bring Ralph's pecker to attention was the prospect of a fuck in some unusual place, the more public the better. He had fucked girls on crowded dance floors, in airline waiting rooms, in corner telephone booths, on jammed beaches, and once on the escalator of a department store. His greatest triumph came when he fucked a girl in the back seat of a police car, unknown to the policemen in the front, who were taking them both to the station house on drunk and disorderly charges.
Cynical employees of the Zip Institute claimed that Dr. O'Toole was nothing more than on old crony of Zip's whose only duties were to act as a drinking buddy and bodyguard. Actually, this was unfair. Ralph the Rapist's official title was Chief Research Inspector. His arduous job was to go around to all the Research Centers on a regular basis and sample all the Researchers, to make sure they were living up to the standards of appearance, friendliness, good manners and sexual ability that Zip demanded of his girls. They were all expected to be as charming and well-groomed as airline stewardesses, with the added requirement of being enthusiastic fuckers. Despite Ralph's aberrations, Mr. Zip believed that he had excellent taste in women and was a good judge of their ability to fuck.
Mr. Zip and Ralph the Rapist left by the front door of the Institute, and were met with a torrent of jeers and catcalls from the usual crowd of pickets who paraded in front of the headquarters during business hours. When the pickets saw that it was Zip himself, the volume of the outcry went up, and a few of them had to be pushed back into line by the cordon of city police that normally guarded the building.
This time the demonstrators were from the Mothers' March on Zipism, a nationwide organization dedicated to the destruction of Mr. Zip and his business. "Women are Not Toys" said some of the signs, along with "Zipism is Animalism" and "Love and Marriage, Not Sex For Profit."
Mr. Zip smiled and waved at the pickets, which made them even angrier, while Ralph the Rapist scowled at them, Built like a low chest of drawers, with red hair sticking up in spikes from his square head, he looked even more like a bodyguard than usual.
Assisted by the police, they were settled in the back seat of Zip's Roos and whisked away from the turmoil by his chauffeur.
"You'll get yours, Harpo!" screeched one woman as they drove off; and Mr. Zip, genuinely unaware of his resemblance to the late film star, was at a loss to know what she meant.
"I think we'll stifle a lot of the feminine criticism when we get our Male Researcher program off the ground, " said Mr. Zip.
"I hope to God you don't want me going around inspecting them, too," said Ralph the Rapist. "How's the program coming, anyway?"
"Pretty badly, at the moment. If a woman doesn't feel sexy, she can fake it, but a man can't: either lie's got his prick up or he hasn't. Suppose some hideous old hag comes into one of our Centers and wants to be researched by a handsome young guy, and none of our guys can manage to get a hard-on for her?"
"Some guys will go for anything," said Ralph.
"Yes, but we can't have somebody like that at every single Center. Plus the fact that some of them would probably be even uglier than the type of broad they go for. Then we've got another problem: up to a point, a woman can fuck any number of men, but a man gets worn out after a few go-rounds, and he needs time in between to rest up. So we'd need at least five times as many Male Researchers at each Center than women. The only consolation is, most of them will work cheaper."
"So it looks like the idea might never get off the drawing board," said Ralph.
"Don't say that, it's a natural. Women are the ones who really go for any phony character-reading type of thing, look at palmistry, or astrology, or psychiatry, and if they can also use it as an excuse for getting laid by some handsome young gigolo-type, they'll go overboard for it. We can farm the boys out to afternoon bridge clubs for demonstrations, and everything."
"So it would be a great idea if it worked, but it doesn't work, right?" said Ralph.
"We've got a lot of really top minds working on it, and our best bet now seems to be an artificial prick," Mr. Zip said.
"You slip it to them when they're not looking?"
"Not at all. It's made of plastic, see, and it fits right over the real one. The guy shaves off his hair, and the hair at the base of the phony one covers up the place where it's stuck on. It feels just like the real thing, it's got a skin that moves, and everything, especially if it's warmed to body temperature when you put it on."
Just then the ear drew to a halt in front of the restaurant they had chosen, and Zip and Ralph got out and entered the place. It was a fashionable businessmen's bar and steakhouse, featuring foot-thick carpeting, plush booths, extremely dim light and pretty, scantily-clad waitresses in a bikini and net stockings . Ralph the waitress who had taken their order absent-mindedly pinched her on the ass as she turned to leave, and was already talking with Zip again when she turned around to glare at him.
"So what's the drawback with this artificial prick?"
"There are two of them," said Zip. "One is, the thing looks like a real prick from a reasonable distance, but if a dame really wants to slobber over it, and blow the researcher and all, she might notice the difference, and she might notice the spot where it's attached to his skin if she goes poking around at it. Also, one of our resident faggots claims that it doesn't taste right.
"The worst drawback," Zip continued, "is that the guy might get a real hard-on while he's wearing it, a couple of guys we were testing had that happen, and they wouldn't put the thing on again for a million bucks."
"Christ!" said Ralph, horrified at the thought.
"But, we're not licked yet, at least, our artificial prick isn't. As I said, we have our top minds working on it."
"Why not just make the thing big enough to enclose a genuine hard-on?" asked Ralph. "The dame wouldn't mind if it was bigger than normal."
Zip stared at him in amazement. "You know, that's the one answer nobody came up with. What about the other problem?"
"Well, just put a sign over the bed, 'Please do not blow the Researcher, Ladies, as it may cause you to grow hair on your palms'."
"I guess we'll keep our top minds for that one," said Zip.
The waitress came back, and they both really noticed her for the first time. She was a big, tall girl, with blonde hair done up behind her neck in a shining bun. The skimpy orange bikini looked even scantier in its attempt to cover her luxurious expanse of golden skin, and when she reached over the table to put down their water glasses, her bra hung loose enough for Mr. Zip to catch a glimpse of the pink nipples of her bulging breasts.
She looked at Ralph coldly for a moment. "I'll take your order now, but don't try it again, wise guy," she said.
"Huh?" said Ralph, genuinely bewildered.
"Don't give me that crap. You pinched me when I left the menus."
"Gee, I'm sorry. I didn't even realize I did it. You know, the thing is, you remind me of my sister, and I just did it without thinking, I mean, I do that to her, and it doesn't mean anything. So, my mind was on something else, and I just reached out, like that" here Ralph reached around her and grabbed a handful of her ass, "without thinking about it. I'm really sorry."
"Well, I guess it's okay, but let go now, huh, Do I really remind you of your sister?"
"You sure do," said Ralph, squinting at her in the dim light. "Turn around a minute, will you?"
The waitress obliged, and Ralph ran his hand over the curve of her ass. "Gee whiz, from the back you couldn't tell the difference. What's your name, anyway?"
"Hilda," said the waitress.
"No, I mean your last name, maybe we're related."
"Schmidt."
"No, I guess not. My name's Nietzsche. Fred Nietzsche. But you sure do look a lot like my sister, I must say. "
"Gee," Hilda smiled, "I guess that's a compliment, Huh?"
"You're darn right. Nobody does it like my sister. Dad says so, too."
"What?"
"I said, nobody does it like my sister. She's a great girl."
During the conversation, Zip sat without breathing, shading his eyes with his hand. Knowing Ralph, he was afraid of the way this was going.
"Well, what are you going to have, Mr. Nitchey?"
"Call me Freddie," said Ralph. He stared fixedly at her crotch, just about on a level with his eyes. "I know what I want to eat, hey, what's that?"
Ralph pointed to a small mole on the girl's golden belly, just at the edge of her skimpy panties.
"Oh, that's just a birthmark, " she said, "I've always had that."
"Let me see," said Ralph, pulling the top of her pants down quickly. He pulled them down just far enough to expose the tuft of blonde curls at the top of her pubic hair, and kept talking all the while, "You know, you can't be too careful about these things, you really ought to have somebody look into it. Have you ever done that?"
"No, I haven't, but, hey, what do you think you're doing, anyway?"
"I'm just concerned about you, you know, on account of you're such a nice girl."
"Well, let go of my pants. Maybe you're okay, but you just shouldn't do things like that, that's one of the rules of this place."
"What kind of a rule? I shouldn't be concerned about your health?"
"No, of course not, but you know, there are a lot of wise guys that come in here, and when they get half bagged, they see these bikinis, and figure they can paw the girls and everything."
"But I wasn't "
"I know," said Hilda, "but anybody that was watching might think you were trying to pull down my pants. It's how it looks, you know."
"But I was just doing this," said Ralph, pulling down her pants, a little further, this time, "to look at your birthmark."
"Now, cut it out!" said Hilda, pulling them back up.
"I know," said Ralph the Rapist with a sly smile, "I bet you just don't want me to know that you dye your hair."
"I don't dye my hair! What the heck are you talking about?"
"I mean, if I pulled down your pants enough to see the color of your hair there," he pushed his forefinger against her crotch, "then I'd see it was a different color than on your head."
"It's not, and anyway, I think you saw what color it is."
"No, honest, I didn't. I was looking at your birthmark."
Hilda moved closer and peeled the top of her pants down demurely to reveal the barest edge of her curly locks. "See? Now are you satisfied?"
"Well, I bet you dye the top of it, just in case it shows by accident," Ralph said.
"Darn you, you just won't believe anything a girl says," said Hilda, impatiently. She gave a quick glance around the darkened room. The only people in sight were a few patrons at the bar, with their backs to the booth. Quickly, she peeled her pants down until the whole golden triangle was visible. "See? Now you know, right?"
Ralph stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Okay," he said, "but it is the same color all the way down in there, isn't it?" He slid his hand in as far as it would go between her thighs, but she was holding them tightly together.
"Oooh!" Hilda exclaimed in exasperation. After another glance around the room, she moved closer and spread her thighs until all of her cunt was visible to Ralph's close inspection.
"Just a minute," said Ralph, when she went to pull up her bikini again. "You see this, Mr. Zip? Here's a girl that's really a genuine blonde for a change. It's really refreshing to find a good, wholesome, honest girl who doesn't dye her hair or anything and is really proud to let us know it."
Hilda smiled at the compliment and pushed her pussy out a little further to give them a better look. Ralph's fingers were busy, ostensibly brushing the hair back from the lips of her cunt to show the blonde curls to their best advantage.
"That's right," said Hilda. "I don't think a girl should try to be something she, oh, isn't. I try to be, oh!, honest. Hey, you aren't trying to cop a feel, are you?"
"Of course not," said Ralph, withdrawing his hand. She seemed reluctant to let it go, and pushed her cunt slightly after it. Suddenly remembering where she was, she looked around hastily and pulled up her pants.
"Gee, I don't know what the boss would say if he saw that. I don't think he'd understand at all," she said. "Now, what can I get you?"
Zip and Ralph ordered T-bone steaks, with bowls of clam chowder to start, and Hilda wiggled away with the order.
"Look, Ralph," said Zip when she'd gone, "don't you get enough during working hours? Are you trying to get us both thrown out of here, or arrested? You know what the Mothers' March on Zipism would do with it if we got thrown in jail for indecent exposure or whatever the hell they charge you with for trying to lay a waitress in a restaurant in the middle of the lunch hour."
"Oh, you worry too much. I'd just say I was giving her an interview to find out if she'd make a good Researcher."
Zip wasn't calmed by Ralph the Rapist's easy-going attitude. The motto of the Mothers' march, though not publicly acknowledged by them, was "Zap a Zipist for Christ," and there had recently been a couple of suspicious fires at research centers in New Jersey which, he believed, could be traced to their militant teachings. They were out to get him, and he didn't want to give them free ammunition.
Hilda came back with the chowder and placed Mr. Zip's bowl in front of him. As she went to serve Ralph, though, he waved his arm as if to emphasize a point he was making, and spilled the bowl of hot chowder into his lap.
"Aaaagh!" yelled Ralph, not loud enough to be heard very far, and sprang to his feet, whipping off his trousers and underpants. As usual, he had a large, throbbing hard-on. Hilda stared at it in wide-eyed amazement.
"Ow! Ow! Look at that, it's started to swell up already, and the end of it is all red!" Ralph cried.
"But isn't that just-" began Hilda, who thought she knew a hard-on when she saw one. "No, no, it's been scalded! It's all swollen up! I'm burning to death!"
Flustered, Hilda grabbed a napkin and began patting his prick. "I don't think it's serious, really, I just think that's, well, you know, it looks kind of normal, for the shape it's in," she said, skeptically.
"God damn it, I ought to know what my own tool is supposed to look like!" said Ralph, impatiently. "I've been burned, I'm ruined for life. Quick, put some water on it." Hilda reached for the water, but so did Ralph, spilling it in his haste. "Here, you wait and I'll get some more," she said.
"No, no, it'll be too late, you've got to cool it off, please do something, just let me put it in your mouth for a minute."
"Well, I don't know about that, " said Hilda, but Ralph grabbed her by the shoulders, and before she knew what she was doing, she was sucking him off.
"Oh, that's so much better," sighed Ralph, "No, keep it up, let it stay in there for a while. Don't forget to use your tongue, Sweetie, and get it all wet and cool it off. Maybe we can save it if we take the right steps now."
"Mmmphmgmmmum," said Hilda, sucking away in the interests of first aid.
Mr. Zip, watching this performance, was getting a hard-on himself, but he tried to ignore them and eat his soup.
"Your mouth is getting dry," said Ralph, "oh, it is, I have to find someplace else to put it, please, where can I put it?"
As if answering his own question, Ralph reached down and tugged at her pants until her lovely peaches and cream ass was exposed. He pulled her up and directed her to lean forward on the table and, kneeling behind her in the booth, he shoved his prick right to the hilt into her cunt.
Hilda's face was right up against Zip's. He couldn't eat his clam chowder anymore as she lay there, propped up on her elbows in front of him. "You know, Mister," she said to Zip, "I have the funny feeling I've been taken for a sucker."
"Oh, I don't know," said Zip. "You shouldn't fool around with a burn. I think you're really coming across beautifully in an emergency. You ought to be proud of yourself."
"Gee," said Hilda, smiling, pleased with the compliment and even more pleased with the hot, vigorous fuck she was getting at the other end of the table. "None of that spilled on you, did it?" reaching down and stroking his crotch. "Hey, you're all swollen up too! Put it my mouth, and maybe I can take care of both of you at once."
Agonized by embarrassment, Mr. Zip looked around the restaurant. No one was watching them in the dim light, but anyone who happened to pass their table would be in for a shock. Nevertheless, he had to do something about the throbbing erection that pushed hungrily against his pants. He knelt up in the booth and let Hilda take his cock in her mouth, and she began gobbling it with gusto.
"Mr. Zip, I presume?" said Ralph, as he faced him over the writhing length of Hilda's torso. "Let's see what kind of meat she's got on her bones," he added in a whisper as he undid her skimpy bra and let her tits flop onto the tablecloth. Ralph played with her right breast, while Mr. Zip fondled the left. Hilda, twisting and moaning around a mouthful of cock, was able to handle both men easily, bucking against Ralph's thrusts with her ample buttocks and keeping up a steady massage with her lips and tongue on Zip's cock.
"Aaaargh!" growled Ralph with satisfaction, gripping her shoulders and shuddering convulsively as he came in her. He lay over her for a moment, breathing hard. When he pulled his prick out, she turned around, lay back on the table, and presented her dripping cunt to Mr. Zip.
Zip had no qualms about taking sloppy seconds, and his prick slid into the well-greased passage with ease as he lay on top of her on the table and began a rapid tattoo of thrusts, hoping to get it all over with before they were discovered. It took a while, though, because of all the exercise his prick had enjoyed that morning, and perhaps because of the nervousness he felt in this situation. He didn't know how Ralph the Rapist was able to do it, so calmly.
Finally a tickling sensation deep inside him spread to a warm glow throughout his prick and he shot his juice into her, explosively, letting out a deep grunt of pleasure with each spurt.
"Now I know you guys were pulling my leg," said Hilda, "but what the hell, it was fun!"
Hilda quickly pulled her bikini back on and gave each of them a quick kiss on the lips, then hurried back to get their steaks.
When their meal was over, Ralph suggested they not leave a tip, because of the way the waitress had messed up the tablecloth, but Mr. Zip dutifully left the expected fifteen per cent.
CHAPTER FOUR
That afternoon, Zip was due for his checkup, and he went to the doctor's office at two-thirty. Dr. Edwards, who had an office on the second floor, was just coming out of the building with his nurse when Zip turned up.
"Mr. Zip, I'm sorry, but we've been called out on a serious emergency," Dr. Edwards said. "I don't think we'll be back for two hours or so, and if you want me to reschedule your appointment, I'll do it."
"I've got nothing else to do," Zip said. "If it's all the same to you, I don't mind waiting in your office for a couple of hours."
"Well-I guess it will be all right. I've got one more patient due this afternoon-she's coming in half an hour-and you might explain the situation to her. Here's the key to the office."
Mr. Zip watched them go. He wished the doctor's nurse, a stunning redhead, would stay behind to take his pulse preferably from his prick. She walked in a way that made the full cheeks of her ass quiver maddeningly. She smiled back at him when she looked over her shoulder and caught him watching.
With a sign, Zip took the key and went upstairs, removing the note of explanation from the office door. He was halfway through a National Geographic, studying the nude breasts of some South Sea Island cuties with a critical eye, when the door opened and a girl stepped in timidly.
She was a blonde, no more than sixteen years old, and dressed in a severe black dress with white cuffs and collar. The dress was a lot longer and more modest than those girls usually wear today, but if anything it served to call attention to the full, ripe curve of her hips and her swelling breasts. She had just emerged into full womanhood, but her creamy skin had the pink and gold glow of a child's.
"Excuse me, but are you Dr. Edwards?"
"That's right," said Zip with a smile. It always pays to think fast. "Come right in," he added, taking her arm and leading her to the inner office.
Mr. Zip was puzzled by the girl. She wore no makeup at all, and her hair was drawn tightly back on her head. At her age, most girls seemed to wear as little clothing as they could get away with, along with as much makeup as they could smear on.
Zip seated the girl in a chair by the doctor's desk and sat on the edge of the desk, casually running his eyes over the full, voluptuous lines of her body. "Now, young lady, who are you and what can we do for you?"
"Doctor, my name is Priscilla Mayband-and-and I've got this problem."
Zip frowned. Her name sounded awfully familiar, but he just couldn't place it. He brushed the thought aside.
"Well, don't be afraid to tell me all about it," Zip said. "That's what I'm here for."
"Well, you see," she said, averting her big blues eyes and actually blushing, "I have this problem-for no reason, I start to-to bleed."
"Hm," said Zip. "Where do you bleed?" She started to answer, but her throat was bone dry. She swallowed, and said, almost in a whisper, "Between my legs."
"How odd," said Zip, getting up from the desk and moving toward her. He reached out and touched her knees, and she jerked away nervously. "There, for instance?"
"No, not there," she said, in an agony of embarrassment, closing her eyes. "It's higher up."
Zip touched her again, on the soft skin of her inner thigh, halfway up from the knee. This time, apparently with an effort of will, she kept her leg from wincing away. Zip stroked her thigh, slowly. "There, do you mean?"
"No, that's not it-it's still higher."
"Perhaps you'd better show me," said Zip.
Priscilla nodded, and biting her lower lip, she touched the plain black dress at a spot over her crotch. "There," she whispered.
"No, no, I mean you'd better take off your clothes and show me, so I can examine the source of the trouble."
"Oh, but Doctor!" said Priscilla, brushing back his hand and straightening her dress. "I've never taken my clothes off in front of anyone-especially not in front of a man!"
"Now, now, you mustn't think of doctors as just men. When we examine a patient, we're only thinking of our work, and how to bring about a cure. We can't cure you with your clothes on," said Zip, reasonably. "Haven't you ever been to a doctor before?"
"Oh, no, Mother wouldn't let me do that. She says all men are bad, and there are things you shouldn't talk about-like your body, for instance."
"So you haven't discussed this problem with your mother?"
"I wouldn't dare. But I was so worried about this bleeding-it's been happening for more than two years now, every single month-that I just had to come here and find out what's the matter with me."
"Well, we just can't say what's wrong unless we examine you, young lady. Are you bleeding now?"
"No-I just was, but it stopped a couple of days ago."
"All right, Miss Maybank, you just come over to this table," said Zip, assisting her from her chair. "Maybe you won't have to take all your clothes off-at first-but you'll have to let me see the part that's bothering you."
"Oh, Doctor-if it's the only way," said Priscilla, pale and trembling. Nervously, she fumbled under her dress and pulled down her plain white panties, almost tripping over them in her clumsy shyness. Blushing furiously, she rolled her skirt up over her hips, avoiding Mr. Zip's interested gaze, and lay down on the table as he directed.
Zip pulled a stool up to the end of the table and sat down, instructing her to move her buttocks toward him and raise her knees.
It was a perfect ringside seat for the main attraction. Fleecy little golden curls, mere wisps of silk, began just below her navel and poured down into the valley of her thighs, the stream parting at the tightly pursed pink lips in the middle, then dwindling to wisps again as they moved down the deep crack of her ass.
Mr. Zip was wildly excited by the sight, and it was all he could do to maintain the cool, bedside manner he'd been trying to put across. He shifted his seat on the stool to accommodate his swelling prick, which had got itself all tangled in his underwear in its excitement. With his index finger, Zip gently traced the outlines of her cunt, occasionally mumbling some medical-sounding lingo or saying "Aha!" to himself.
"What do you think, Doctor?" asked Priscilla.
"Well, I just don't know yet. It takes a little time for a really thorough examination, you know."
As Zip stroked her adorable little pussy, he noticed that Priscilla had stopped trembling. He began prodding a bit more firmly with his fingers, and began to draw the lips apart slightly. "Tell me, does that hurt?" he asked.
"Oh, no, Doctor-as a matter-of-fact, it feels good, sort of."
"Hm," said Zip, gently pushing a finger into the warm interior. "How about that?"
"No, no-that's even better. Oh! Maybe you're curing me already."
Mr. Zip pushed further, with great care. She really was a virgin. He had almost disbelieved her whole story-she just seemed too good to be true. He began to move his finger around, and he felt the cunt moistening under his efforts.
"It doesn't hurt now, does it?"
"Oh, no, Doctor-I should have come here long before. I had no idea it was going to be so easy."
"Well, now we're going to try something that may help you. You've heard of mouth to mouth resuscitation, haven't you?"
"Yes, but I'm not drowning or anything. What-"
"Now, now-I don't mean we're going to do that, but we're going to do something that works on the same scientific principle. "Now" said Zip, as he alternately rubbed with his hand and poked with his finger, "the technical, medical name for this part of your body is the pussy. Sometimes, you have what we call a cold pussy, due to lack of moisture and oxygen. So, to correct that, and give you a hot pussy, like a normal girl, a doctor applies mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. Do you understand that?"
"Yes, Doctor. I hope it works."
"Oh, I'm sure it will," said Mr. Zip. He sat back and rubbed his hands together, wet with her warm juice. He took a good look at Priscilla's succulent crotch. The pink lips were redder now, and her clit had swollen up between them. Juice dribbled down from the cunt and clung like little diamonds to her golden pubic hair.
Holding her firm white ass in his hands, Mr. Zip put his head down between her thighs and began licking the length of her cunt. He drew the clit between his lips, pressing it, then thrust his tongue into her as far as it would go, licking the sticky juice.
"Oh, Doctor, I feel so good," she moaned. "I've never felt so good in my life before-you're a miracle-worker."
"MMMMM-YMMMM," said Zip.
She was beginning to move now, to writhe her ass slowly in his hands and move her legs aimlessly above his head.
Zip came up for air, juice dribbling down his chin. "Well, that seemed to work very well." he said. "Yes, I'm really satisfied with the results of that-but I think we'd better give you a more thorough examination to make sure. Would you mind taking off the rest of your clothes?"
Priscilla's timidity rushed back in a flood, and her eyes went wide. "Oh, but Doctor-can't you just examine my pussy? I'd be so embarrassed!"
"Well, I'll tell you what," said Mr. Zip. "We doctors try hard to keep our patients at ease, so if you'll take off your clothes, I'll take off mine-and then there won't be anything to be embarrassed about, right?"
Priscilla thought about this for a while, and finally decided it made sense-especially since Zip had put his hand hack on her cunt and was rubbing it persuasively. The pink flush of excitement was returning to her cheeks.
Priscilla unzipped her black dress and pulled it over her head. Her white slip was next, and after hesitating for a moment she unhooked her bra, as Zip gave her an encouraging nod. Her bra had been too small, to hold back her blooming body, and the breasts that shook free exceeded even Zip's expectations. The nipples were large and pink, just the way Zip liked them.
Mr. Zip whipped off his own clothes in record time, and Priscilla drew in a gasp of surprise. "My God! Doctor, what's that?"
"What?" asked Zip, bewildered.
"That great big thing sticking out in front of you. I never saw anything like it in my entire life!"
"Well, I guess you've never seen a doctor before, have you?" asked Zip with a reassuring smile. "Every doctor has one of these grafted onto him at medical school-it's called a prick, and it's designed for probing sensitive areas of the body when we make examinations."
"Like what areas?" asked Priscilla, suspiciously.
"Well, it's used very often to probe inside the pussy, for instance."
"You're not going to use in on me, are you, Doctor? You could never get a big thing like that inside me."
"Oh, don't be too sure about that," said Mr. Zip. "If I do, it won't hurt a bit-some girls even say they enjoy it. Here, you can take a closer look at it, if you want to."
Zip guided Priscilla's hand to his stiff prick, and she handled it a little timidly. Her fingers explored its length, then ventured down to his balls while she looked at these new wonders with avid interest.
"Why is it wet like that?" asked Priscilla, smearing the tiny bead of dew at the tip of Mr. Zip's prick with her fingers.
"That's sort of a built-in lubricant, to make it go in easier." said Zip.
"It's really amazing, Doctor-it's just like it was part of you. I never heard anything about doctors getting these at medical school."
"Well, there's lots of things people don't know about medical school-if everybody knew all about it, why would we bother to go? Now, I want to listen to your heart, so take a deep breath and stick your chest out." Priscilla sat on the edge of the table and Zip leaned over to put his ear against her breast, fondling the nipple of the other one with his hand. Priscilla was too fascinated by Mr. Zip's amazing medical probe to notice, and she kept touching it and stroking it.
"Ever have any trouble with these?" asked Zip, pinching one of her nipples between his forefinger and thumb.
"Why, no, not really," said Priscilla. "I really don't believe you could get that-what did you call it, a prick into me."
"Oh, I bet I could.
But notice how this seems to shrink and get harder as I touch it," said Zip, indicating her nipple. "I think I'd better examine the texture more carefully."
Before Priscilla could reply, Zip took one of her breasts in his mouth and gently rolled his tongue over the nipple, sucking at it and squeezing it with his lips while he fondled her other swelling breast with his free hand. His other hand was between her legs, and now he had managed to insert two fingers at once and was working them around inside her.
"Ohhhh, Doctor, I just love this examination-I just love it. I wish it could go on and on ohhh," moaned Priscilla.
"Now, I think it's time we put our prick to work, Priscilla. You just lie back-there!-and spread your legs. Now, just relax."
"All right, Doctor, but please don't hurt me with that-it's so big-oh! Oh my God, Doctor-oh! Oh, yes, it's going in-it's going in-.oh! Stick it in further-yes! Come on, Doctor, I'm not afraid-stick it right in there as far as-oh!"
"Now, what did I tell you?" said Zip. He had pushed his prick into her as far as it would go, and was lying still now to make the most of it. She had a tight, hot cunt that gripped him like a firm, wet handshake.
"Oh, it hurts a little bit, Doctor, but even the hurt feels good-I never felt anything like it before."
"Maybe we can get it in even a little bit further," said Zip, putting his hands under her delightful ass and lifting her hips slightly. "Now, you move your legs up and wrap them around my back-yes, like that."
Mr. Zip fucked her slowly at first, drawing his prick out for its full length, then moving it all the way back in again to a slow, deliberate rhythm. Priscilla began moving in time with the beat, pushing as he came in and pulling as he came out. She wanted to go faster and faster, and Zip obliged her until her back was slapping against the table in a rapid thum-thum-thump.
Zip's prick grew more and more sensitive to the cloying flesh of her sweet pussy around it. Sparks of electric pleasure crackled through it. Just then, Priscilla's body stiffened against his and she let out a wild yell-and Zip came at the same moment, shooting a flood of juice into her.
When Zip had drawn the last, shuddering spurt out of his prick with slow, easy motions, he let out a deep sigh and lay heavily on top of Priscilla. Just then the office door opened, and he found himself staring into the cool green eyes of Dr. Edwards' redheaded nurse.
Mr. Zip resolved to play out his role to the end. "What is it, Nurse? Can't you see I'm treating a patient?"
"Oh, I'm sorry, Doctor," she said, stifling a giggle.
"Where's-ah-what's-his-name?"
"He's not coming back this afternoon. Doctor, when you finish with your patient, I wonder if you could take a look at me. I've got this itch right here," she said, lifting up her white uniform dress and pointing coyly at the triangle of reddish fuzz between her thighs.
"Of course, Nurse. I'm just about finished with Miss Maybank's treatment now."
Priscilla was staring vacantly at the ceiling with a beautiful smile. Every now and then she let out a deep sigh.
Mr. Zip lifted himself reluctantly from the girl and climbed off the table. The nurse came over and inspected the flood of juice that matted Priscilla's blonde pubic hair and smeared her shapely thighs.
"My, that was a first-class treatment you gave her, Doctor. How was it, honey?"
"Oh," said Priscilla, "oh, it was-it was the most wonderful thing-I never dreamed-ooohh!"
Priscilla shook her head slowly, then sat up on the table. More of the sticky juice ran down her thighs. "Oh, Doctor, when can I have another treatment? Will I need many of them before I'm cured?"
"In a case like yours, I think daily treatments are indicated. You know, there's going to be a meeting of the Medical Association at my house tonight-just an informal get-together-and I think the other doctors would be interested in meeting you."
"Do all the other doctors have pricks, too?" asked Priscilla, her eyes lighting up.
"They certainly do. I'm sure they'll all want to use them on you, too."
"Oh, that's wonderful! I wouldn't miss it for the world-I guess I'll have to sneak out of the house, though."
"Very good," said Mr. Zip, writing down his address on a slip of paper while Priscilla put her clothes back on.
"Thank you again, Doctor," she said, taking his hand in hers-then, impulsively, she knelt down and kissed his prick, "and I want to thank that wonderful instrument you used."
"Think nothing of it," said Zip. Then, as she turned to go, he added, "Ah-that will be five dollars, please."
"Oh, of course, Doctor-I'd pay anything for a treatment like that," she said, handing him a bill.
After Priscilla left, the nurse said, "You'll never get rich at those rates," pointing to his limp prick.
"You want to bet on that?" said Zip, moving close to the nurse and putting his arm around her. The redhead was older than Priscilla-a woman in her full prime, with even more lush and ample curves. Zip already began to feel the stirrings of his next erection.
"Save it for your best girl, Zippie," said the nurse, playfully tickling him under the balls with a quick and unexpected motion. "The reason I came back was to meet my boyfriend-I knew the doctor wouldn't be coming back, so I figured I could use his bed in the back room."
"I wish I'd known about the bed," said Mr. Zip. "Half the time I was afraid we'd both fall off that little table."
"Come and take a look," said the nurse, moving ahead with her provocative, wiggling hips under Zip's gaze. She opened a door at the rear of the office and revealed a room with a huge bed covered with silk sheets. "That's where the doctor gives all the pretty ladies their treatments," she said.
Outlined against the window as she was, Zip could see every inviting curve of the nurse's figure through her white uniform. He remembered she wasn't wearing any panties, and the memory of her red cunt-hair started his mind churning. Before he knew it, he was stiff as a flagpole again. He moved in behind the nurse quickly and threw her onto the bed, rolling her dress up around her hips.
She didn't struggle, but she kept her legs crossed. "Cut it out, Mr. Zip," she said. "My boyfriend will be here any minute, and he doesn't like sloppy seconds."
Zip tried to force her thighs open with his hands, but she kept them tightly closed. He kissed her, and her tongue worked around with his hungrily-but she didn't open up.
"It won't take a minute, honey-just let me put it in there, and I won't even come inside you," pleaded Zip. He was unbuttoning her dress while he talked, and she didn't seem to mind, but those legs stayed crossed.
"You're pretty persistent. Maybe I'll give you a fast hand-job if you say please," the nurse said, gripping his prick tightly.
Zip had managed to insert a finger next to her hairy cunt, and was able to wiggle it slightly. She was wet with juice, so his efforts weren't a complete failure.
"That's no good," said Zip, "I want to stick it in you. What's this boyfriend got that I haven't got?"
The nurse sat up, her dress falling away from her lovely breasts. She looked Zip over with an appraising eye. "About six more inches of prick, for one thing," she said, with a laugh.
"It's not what you've got, it's how you use it," said Zip, managing to squeeze a little more of his hand against her crotch. "Besides, nobody's that big."
"Well, I'm telling you he is that big, and he sure as hell knows how to use it. He's got the thing trained," said the nurse.
"Why don't you try mine, and maybe you'll like it a lot better," insisted Zip.
"Better than what?" said a man's voice behind him. He turned around to see a tall, powerfully-built young man in a sport shirt and slacks standing behind him. "What are you doing, Tanya, warming up for the main event?"
Tanya, the redheaded nurse, laughed heartily and fell back on the bed. Her thighs came apart, and Zip used the opportunity to grab a handful of her elusive cunt. "Harry, this is Mr. Zip," she said. "He doesn't believe you've got the world's biggest prick, and he claims he can fuck circles around you."
"Well, we can settle that," said Harry. He unbuckled his belt and stepped out of his pants and underwear.
Zip was flabbergasted. Harry had the great-granddaddy of all tools. He didn't even have a hard-on yet, but his pecker hung down for at least fourteen inches, and it was as big around as a good-sized banana.
"I guess that settles your question, Mr. Zip," said Harry as he removed his shirt. His chest and legs were covered with thick black hair that blended into the forest at the base of his prick. "Now, step aside and let the big boys play."
Tanya wiggled her cunt against Zip's hand. She didn't try to take it away as she sat up beside Zip and took Harry's prick in her hands. She put her full red lips around it and pulled it back into her mouth with a happy slurp. Zip was annoyed. Maybe Tanya would have sucked him off before Harry arrived, if he'd thought of it. She sucked like an expert. Tanya let go of her toy for a minute and turned to Zip, Licking her lips. "I'll tell you what-why don't we have a contest, and I'll decide which one of you fucks the best?"
Harry scratched his head. His prick, glistening wet from Tanya's attentions, was up and ready now, and he had a hard-on that would have done credit to a horse. "Well, I know already who'd win that one, but it's okay with me if you want to," he said.
"What does the winner get?" said Zip. "Well, he can have another piece of ass if he wants one," laughed Tanya. "The loser can have one, too."
"It doesn't seem to be much of a game," said Harry. "If you want to screw with us all afternoon, okay, but if you want to play a game, that's something else. We ought to have a prize especially for the winner."
Zip's sporting instinct was aroused, and he agreed with Harry.
"Look, we ought to have a better way of judging, too-we ought to have some way of deciding impartially, rather than just taking Tanya's word for it."
"Oh, for God's sake!" said Tanya, jumping off the bed and flinging her dress across the room. She stood in front of them with her legs wide apart, thrusting out her pussy. "Do you guys want to fuck or talk?" Harry waved his giant prick at her. "Don't worry, honey, you'll get everything that's coming to you-but I think we ought to set this contest up right. Now, we agree that you're an expert of screwing, Tanya-right, Mr. Zip?-so what's the thing you look for most in a really good lay?"
Tanya scratched her cunt for a moment, deep in thought. "Well", she said at last, "I guess the best thing a man can have is the ability to hold back until he's ready to come. If a man can't control himself, and comes before the girl is ready, that louses up the whole thing."
"All right," said Harry. "So this is how we'll set it up-Mr. Zip and I will take turns fucking you, ten strokes each. The one who comes first loses."
"And what's the prize?" said Zip.
"I'll tell you what," said Tanya, flopping down on the bed, "the loser has to blow the other one!"
"I don't know about that," said Harry, looking dubiously at Zip. "I never swung from that side of the plate before."
"Me neither," said Zip.
"Well, I never saw it done, and I think it would be fun to watch-so if you fellows want any nice, redheaded pussy this afternoon, you'd better agree," said Tanya, turning over and sticking her ass out suggestively. "Besides, if you guys are as good as you say you are, you have nothing to worry about."
"Oh, all right," said Harry. "After you, Mr. Zip?"
"No, she's your girl-you go first," said Zip.
Tanya was still kneeling on the bed with her head on a pillow and her lush buttocks facing them. Harry knelt behind her and stuck his prick in from the back, guiding the huge thing with his hand. "Oooooh," said Tanya, with a little shiver of delight.
Zip watched closely. He couldn't figure out where it was all going, but Harry's monstrous prick was sliding right into her with the ease of the Queen Mary moving into a slip. When he'd finished, there wasn't an inch of daylight between them. Tanya's face was screwed up in a look of acute enjoyment, and she made deep little grunts in her throat each time he drove it home.
Harry pulled out after ten strokes, his prick wet and shiny with Tanya's juice. "Be my guest, Mr. Zip," he said, patting the lovely girl on her ass.
"Hurry up," said Tanya, "get it while it's hot."
Zip, excited by their performance and frustrated in his earlier attempts at Tanya's virtue, needed no second invitation. As he slid into the well-oiled channel, he was amazed to find that Tanya's cunt gripped him firmly-he had half-expected to rattle around loosely in the hole able to swallow Harry's tremendous prick. Zip leaned over her back taking the two ripe melons of her breasts in his hands and putting his lips against her ear.
"How do you do it?" he asked. "Harry fit, and so do I."
"I got a special adjustable model-now, for God's sake, shut up and fuck me!"
Tanya seemed to enjoy his efforts just as much as Harry's, and she made the same grunting sounds of pleasure as he shoved it in and out. Abruptly, Harry tapped him on the shoulder, "Come on, Zip-don't over do it-only ten to a customer."
Zip pulled out hastily. Tanya was such a great piece of ass that he'd lost count of his strokes-and that would never do, in a contest like this. His prick was already hot and throbbing, but he guessed it wouldn't be fair to pour cold water on it while Harry was taking his turn.
"This time, you do the work, Tanya," said Harry, flopping back on the bed with his giant horse-cock pointed upward like a monstrous rocket ready to blast off. Tanya straddled his hips with her knees and brought her cunt down slowly to envelop his prick. Then Harry let her bounce up and down ten times on his cock while he guided her with his hands oil her ass.
It seemed over too soon. Zip was still throbbing and excited from his last round with Tanya when Harry had finished, but he assumed the last position quickly and drew her over him.
This position gave him a good look at the gorgeous animal he was fucking-or who was fucking him, since she was on top and leading the action. His eyes took in the red cunt hair that dwindled to a thin line up the slight swell of her belly to her navel. He lingered for a while on the low-angle view of her jiggling breasts with their tight, darkish nipples, and his hand followed his eyes to fondle the right one. Above the smooth white curve of her throat, her face was uplifted, eyes closed, long black lashes down on her flushed cheeks. Her even white teeth gnawed at her full lower lip, and her long red hair bounced around her shoulders in time to her thrusting hips.
"Time!" he said, somewhat frantically, as he pulled her off-he had been swimming along in a warm ocean of pleasure that numbed his mind-and he had almost let himself go that time. He hoped Harry was having the same trouble holding himself back.
"Frontal assault," said Harry, and Tanya-who seemed to have an easy knowledge of his lovemaking from long experience-lay on her back. Harry slid into her furry delight easily and finished ten fast strokes as quickly as Zip could count them. Tanya gave him an extra squeeze with her legs before she let him untangle himself.
Zip hesitated for a moment. It felt like his prick was on a hair trigger. He was afraid it would go off the minute he slipped it into her, this time. He began to realize what he'd let himself in for, and he was starting to sweat it. He tried to take his mind off the fuck, to think of something else-but the only other thing he could think of was humping Priscilla Maybank on the doctor's table a short while ago, and thoughts like that did no good at all.
"Come on, Zippo, you running out of steam?" yelled Harry. "We ought to give the old guy a break and let him sit this turn out, Baby."
"There's nothing old about him," smiled Tanya, writhing sensuously on the bed.
"Come on, Zip, sock it to me!"
Zip climbed into her tight embrace and slid his arms under her back to hug her tightly. His prick found its way in easily, and it didn't go off right away as he had feared. She wrapped her legs around his back and they finished ten short, quick strokes in that tight lock, their lips glued together in a wet kiss.
Harry seemed a little annoyed now, Zip noticed as he disentangled himself. Maybe he was having trouble trying not to come, too. As for Zip, he felt even closer to losing than he had before. The skin of his prick seemed to be stretched tighter than it ever had before, and even the air moving around it as he stepped back seemed enough to make him come. He shuddered at the idea of blowing Harry. He had no particular scruples about trying a man for a change-"Don't knock it till you try it" was Zip's motto-but the size of Harry's prick frightened him: he was afraid the damned thing would choke him to death.
"Do it the first way again, Harry," said Tanya, rolling over onto her knees and presenting her mouth-watering ass, "that really gives me a kick."
"Anything to please a lady," said Harry, climbing up behind her.
"God, no, Harry, not in the asshole!" shrieked Tanya. "You'll rip me open, you big ape-there, that's better, you're right on target, lover. Harry's queer for assholes," Tanya explained to Zip while Harry worked over her. "He'll go for it every time when I'm not looking. Oh, that's good, that's ten, come on in, Zip, before it catches its death of cold."
Zip climbed onto the cock-crazed girl and eased himself into her-and felt a slight twinge, a warning signal that he was on the verge of coming for good this time. He grabbed her tightly by the hips and gripped the nape of her neck with his teeth, trying to hold on to his self control by main force. He didn't want that monster prick shoved into his mouth.
The danger seemed to lessen for a moment and Zip began easing his prick in and out-two-three-four-five-and then Tanya shuddered convulsively and screamed at the top of her lungs. She writhed her ass back against Zip and reached around to claw his hips with her nails, grunting and moaning like a dying animal-and then she flopped forward on the bed, covered with sweat, exhausted by the force of her orgasm. "Oh, I came, I came," she moaned. "Damn you, Zip, you're the best I ever had-you fuck like an angel."
"Don't mention it," said Zip, who was always polite to ladies. He brushed a little sweat from his brow.
"Say," began Harry, obviously deep in thought. He paused for a moment, then continued, "Say, Zip, if I have this figured out right, you win top honors as the best man in bed-this time, anyway. But the contest was to see which of us would come first. Neither one of us came, so neither one of us loses, right?"
Zip thought it over for a moment. "The way I see it, Tanya was the one who came first. She loses, so she has to blow both of us," Zip said.
"That sounds reasonable. How about it, Tanya?" Harry said.
"I'll do whatever Zip says. He can stick it in my ear if he wants to," said Tanya, rolling over lazily and stretching her lovely legs in the air.
"You first," said Zip. "I want a little time to cool off."
Harry helped Tanya off the bed, then sat down on the edge with his knees spread wide. In a show of gallant behavior, he plumped a pillow between his feet for Tanya to kneel on while she sucked him off. She knelt before him for a moment, running her fingers over his big prick and gazing at it with unashamed lust as it stuck up in front of her face, quivering with pent-up sexual energy. Unable to hold back any longer, she leaned forward, and her red hair poured over Harry's thighs as she took the prick in her mouth and started working it over.
Zip walked into an adjacent bathroom and ran cold water from the sink over his own stiff prick. The throbbing eased down a little bit, and Zip was sure he could hold off long enough to enjoy his hard-earned blowjob to the fullest. Tanya's lip-smacking sounds of delight as she enjoyed her tasty treat stiffened him up again, though, and he ran more cold water over his prick until he was satisfied that the hard-on was under control again.
Mr. Zip returned to the other room and sat down beside Tanya, his prick brushing her thigh and leaving little crystalline droplets on her smooth, rosy skin. He brushed her long hair back for a better view of the action. She wasn't able to get all of Harry's colossal cock in her mouth, the way she had in her cunt, but she was certainly giving it the old college try. Every time she sucked it in, she must be taking the head all the way down into her throat. The rest of the big prick, the part she couldn't squeeze into her mouth, wasn't forgotten either, for she kept tickling it with her fingers and tugging at the skin, giving Harry a combination blowjob and jerking off that drove him wild with pleasure.
Mr. Zip, meanwhile, was stroking the soft curves of her ass and kissing her neck and armpits, his own heat building up to an even greater degree. He was almost willing to forgo the blowjob and drive his prick right into her from the back while she worked on Harry with her mouth.
Just then a deep growl rumbled in Harry's hairy chest, and his bare foot began tapping the floor in short, involuntary jerks. He threw his head back, teeth gritted and eyes screwed up-and-
The door of the bedroom banged open and a loud voice said: "Miss Hyde! What are you, some kind of pervert? Don't you realize that's unsanitary? What's going on here?"
"Doctor!" squeaked Tanya in horror, pulling her mouth away from Harry's cock.
She pulled her lips off the cock at just the wrong moment, for just then Harry came, shooting a phenomenal load of juice right into her pretty face. It ran over her nose, her lips, and even sprayed into the lovely red hair brushing her cheek. Tanya quickly put her lips back on the head of the prick to save the next few spurts and swallow them thirstily, making sure Harry had finished his orgasm before she pulled off again, but the damage was done. She was a mess.
"Oh, God, Harry, that was good," said Tanya, wiping the sticky juice from her face and licking her fingers.
"Miss Hyde, you'd be a disgrace to your uniform, if you were wearing one!" shouted Dr. Edwards, even angrier at being ignored like this. "And what are you doing here like this, Mr. Zip? What's the meaning of this?"
"Just a little research for the Zip Institute, Doctor. Miss Hyde very kindly consented to help me out in an experiment. She shows the true scientific spirit, I must say."
"It looks to .me like she shows the true spirit of a Hong Kong whorehouse, where she can no doubt find employment now that I'm firing her. I don't want any damned philatelists around here, or whatever you call them. Now get the hell out of here, all of you!"
The doctor, who had turned a deep shade of purple during his tirade, seemed to be on the verge of violence, so Tanya, Harry and Zip snatched up their scattered clothes and ran out of the office into the corridor. The door slammed behind them.
Mr. Zip turned and opened the door slightly again. "What about my checkup, Doctor?" he asked.
"God damn you, get out!" screamed Dr. Edwards.
"Damn," said Tanya, dancing uncomfortably on the cold floor of the corridor with her bare feet, "now I've done it. I'll probably never get another job."
"Don't worry about that," said Zip, "there are plenty of jobs for nurses with the Zip Institute in one branch or another, if you want to drop around the office tomorrow."
"That's really great of you, Mr. Zip. I wish there was some way I could thank you."
"Well, there is," he said, waving his stiff prick at her. "We still haven't done anything about this yet."
It suddenly struck Tanya that they were all standing naked in the corridor of a busy office building. The passage was empty now, but the elevator or any one of the offices might suddenly release a flock of people without warning. "Damn," she said, "I want to, but what can we do out here? We'd better get our clothes on."
The idea was unappealing, but they all put their clothes on while Mr. Zip's mind wrestled with the problem of finding someplace near-by with the necessary privacy. He wondered what Ralph the Rapist would do in a situation like this, and was almost tempted to call him up and ask. That was it! There was a telephone booth at the end of the corridor.
"Come on," said Zip, "we'll go into the telephone booth. I think there's room for you to kneel down in there, and Harry can stand in front of the door in case anybody comes by who might see you."
"It's okay for a blowjob, but what I could go for right now is a good, old-fashioned fuck," added Tanya.
"Well, it's part of our bet, lover," said Harry. "Losers weepers, and all that."
"If you both want to do some serious fucking, why don't you come to my party tonight?" said Mr. Zip. "I guarantee you'll get all you can handle."
"Terrific," said Tanya. "A part is no fun unless you get laid at least two or three times-but let me get your cock in my mouth now, Yummmm-I can taste it now!"
The telephone booth posed a bit of a problem, mainly because Tanya's lovely legs were too long and her generous ass was too big. Mr. Zip finally sat on the little bench in the booth, and Tanya stood until the door had been closed. Then, because it was too cramped for her to kneel in comfort, she took off her shoes and squatted back on her heels.
"Oh, I'm just at the right level!" she exclaimed. "Come on, get it out and let me at it."
Mr. Zip peeled his pants and underwear down over his knees, and his prick sprang out of the confining clothing and stood up, stiff and hard, in front of Tanya's lustful eyes. Zip stroked her hair-some of it stiff from Harry's ill-timed explosion-and fondled her neck while her fingers played little games with his wildly excited cock, and she teased it by puckering her lips and making little kissing noises at it.
Unable to stand it much longer, Zip's back arched up and he thrust the cock at her mouth, brushing her full red lips with it and moistening them with his freely flowing prick juice. She refused to hurry, though, and continued her salacious examination with maddening deliberation, running her fingers over the head from the wet eye at the center to the stiff crest at the end, then down the skin on the body of his prick and up the bottom side. Now her pink tongue went to work, peeking between her lips to flick wetly over the prick on all sides, from one end to the other, covering it with a fine wet coating of Zip's juice and her saliva.
Writing around on the narrow bench, Zip kept trying to shove it right between her elusive lips, but she continued to lick him and tease him and drive him right up to the brink of orgasm until he thought he would go out of his mind.
Harry, guarding the booth, tapped on the door. "Hey, pick up the phone," he said. "Here comes a guy who looks like he means to use it."
Mr. Zip looked out and saw that a little man carrying a folded newspaper was coming. He picked up the phone hurriedly, holding down the cradle with his other hand, and placed the set to his ear. The man paused outside the booth and tried to peer around Harry, then began walking back and forth, almost dancing with impatience, and slapping his newspaper against his thigh.
While Zip was distracted by the new arrival, Tanya sucked him in and he gave a little involuntary cry of pleasure that made the newcomer stare curiously at him around Harry's burly shoulder. Apparently, he couldn't see Tanya squatting on the floor.
Tanya looked up at Zip and winked in conspiracy as she pulled and sucked at his prick with her luscious lips.
"Hey, hurry up in there, will you?" the man said. "I got to make a call-it's an emergency."
Mr. Zip smiled and nodded at the man, his face rendered somewhat maniacal by the little twitches of pleasure he couldn't conceal as Tanya gobbled his cock. Her tongue was steadily at work inside her mouth all the while, running wet and warm over the hot cock while she sucked it.
Abruptly, an unforeseen interruption occurred. The phone rang. Mr. Zip released the cradle just as the ring began, but the man outside heard it and began dancing about and yelling in furious impatience.
"Hell-o-o-oh!" said Zip.
"Hello there!" said a voice on the telephone. "Am I speaking to Mrs. Regurgita Spurgeon of Grand Concourse?"
"No, you aren't. You have the wrong number," said Mr. Zip-but his voice came out rather high-pitched and garbled as he writhed and thrust his prick into Tanya's greedy mouth.
"Well then, Mrs. Spurgeon, this is your lucky day! This is Sunshine Sammy Simple of the Simple Sunshine Hour, exploiter of shut-ins, senior citizens, naive children and hopeless lunatics for the delectation of our vast subhuman audience! How does it feel to be on the air, Mrs. Spurgeon?"
"Jesus Christ," said Mr. Zip.
"How about that, folks? We have a deeply religious lady here in Mrs. Spurgeon. Let's hear it for God, audience!" Mr. Zip heard a faint cheer over the telephone. "Well now, Mrs. Spurgeon, you're just the lady we want to talk to, because we have a question today, we have a question every day, a question that deeply interests all our Simple Sunshine Simpletons out there in Simple Sunshineland! And do you know what our Simple Sunshine Question is today, Mrs. Spurgeon?"
"Oh, oh-suck it! Suck it!" groaned Mr. Zip to Tanya.
"Oh, I see, 'Sock it to me,' eh, is that what you're trying to say, you poor babbling drudge? Well, I can see we have a real hip lady here, an old gal who's turned on to the Now Generation. Let's hear it for turning on, audience!"
"What the hell's going on in there?" demanded the man with the newspaper, trying to push his way past Harry. "God damn it, this is urgent! I got to get to that phone!"
"Well, now, Mrs. Simple-Mrs. Sunshine-Mrs. Spurgeon, that's it, Mrs. Spurgeon, sometimes my eye tongue gets in teeth of my way and I can't say what I'm seeing-Ha ha ha, audience! Well, then, Mrs. Sturgeon, our question for the day is, "What was the role played by Raymond IV of Toulouse in the Albigensian Crusade of 1209, and how did Pope Innocent III's position influence his actions, or lack of them?" That's our Simple Sunshine question for the day, Mrs. Spurgeon, and I must say you drew a pushover. Just answer correctly, and we'll fly you to France for two glorious weeks on the Marseille waterfront!"
In his impatience, the man outside the booth had somehow found the strength to brush Harry aside and his nose was now pressed against the glass. "Hey, what the hell is this-she's sucking him off in there!" he shouted.
"No, Mrs. Spurgeon, that's pretty darn close, but I'm afraid that's not the answer, no siree," said the telephone. "But it's been just great chatting with such a really grand sport, and the Simple Sunshine Hour is going to send you a year's supply of Dr. Bogtrotter's Swampwater Lotion, fortified with liniment and asafetida, the final solution to a woman's really personal hygiene problems. How about that, audience! So this is Sunshine Sammy Simple and the Simple Sunshine Hour, saying, so long, Wrongo, and keep those cards and letters coming in!"
The phone went dead, and Zip relaxed, letting the waves of pleasure radiating from his stiff prick in Tanya's mouth flow all over his body. Then he remembered the man outside the booth. The man's reaction had been strange. He hadn't apologized for intruding, nor had he gone away to find another phone or complain to somebody-instead he was still outside the booth, apparently tearing his newspaper apart with frustration as he looked for something in it, running down columns of type with his finger and talking to himself. Abruptly he found what he was looking for, actually jumped for joy, and ran back to the booth.
"Look, Mister," he said loudly, around Harry, "I just got to use that telephone now-this is a matter of life or death. No kidding, I'm not going to bother you, I'm not even going to look at you, only just let me use that telephone-please!"
"Oh, all right," said Mr. Zip, who always tried to be a good Samaritan. The man's desperation was apparently real. He opened the door of the booth.
Tanya didn't pause or look up from her work, and the man didn't look down as he mumbled his thanks and reached inside to deposit a coin and dial a number.
"Louie? Louie, look-we got time for the third at Santa Anita, still, right? Okay, Louie, I just got a hunch that can't be beat-give me a hundred on the nose on All Day Sucker. Yeah, that's right. I had like a vision," said the man, hanging up. "Thanks a lot, Mister, you're a real pal. Have fun," he added as he closed the booth and walked away. Mr. Zip did.
CHAPTER FIVE
There was a theater in the neighborhood showing an art firm that he had been meaning to see for some time: "I Am Curiously Yellow," about a Swedish girl who gets jaundice from too much energetic fucking.
Mr. Zip was particularly interested in seeing the critically acclaimed gang-bang scene, where the heroine takes on seven men at once, with one prick in her cunt, one in her asshole, one in her mouth, one in each hand and one squeezed under each armpit. While this is going on, a depraved midget scrambles through the crowd, smearing her body with whipped cream, which he licks off when the others have finished. Some of the most respected film critics had seen in this a symbolic presentation of the younger generation's political involvement.
On the way to the theater, Mr. Zip purchased a bunch of bananas at a grocery store to have something to nibble on. Theater popcorn or candy bars didn't appeal to him. He was something of a fanatic about bananas, claiming that they were the secret to his virility-"You never saw a limp banana, did you?" he often said to illustrate his argument.
Mr. Zip arrived at the theater while the movie was going on. The place seemed crowded with housewives who had taken the afternoon off for some intellectual stimulation. He was able to find a seat, though, and was soon settled down eating bananas and discarding the peels on the floor while he watched the passionate antics on the screen-or watched them as well as he could around the woman seated in front of him, who was rather tall and wearing a flowered hat that obscured his view.
After twenty minutes of shifting around in his seat and craning his neck this way and that, Mr. Zip was annoyed enough to tap the woman on the shoulder and request politely, "Excuse me, Madame, but would you please remove your hat? It keeps getting in my way.
The woman turned around and stared at him coldly, looking over his sloppy clothes and the banana in his fist with a sneer. After looking him up and down, she said, in a rather loud voice, "Why don't you go back to the zoo, you ape?"
Painfully embarrassed, Mr. Zip scrunched down in his seat and scowled. There didn't seem to be any other seats in the area-and getting up and looking for one, after that, would only compound his embarrassment. He even lost his taste for bananas for the moment, and put the bag on the floor. The woman's nasty remark had reminded him of his wife's cutting jibe about the chimpanzee on a tricycle.
"Bananas are good for you," he grumbled, but he realized this wasn't much of a snappy rejoinder, and he didn't really say it loud enough for her to hear him.
Mr. Zip glanced covertly at his neighbors to see if they were aware of his embarrassment, but they seemed to be ignoring him. He paused for a moment when his eyes fell on the girl at his right. She was dressed in a skirt and sweater, sitting primly upright with a raincoat folded on her lap. She had a really beautiful pair of boobs, and she didn't seem to be wearing a bra under the tight sweater. She had long dark hair and wore glasses, and seemed rather intellectual in appearance-but very attractive.
Noticing the ring on her finger, Zip tried to guess about her background. He decided she was one of those young matrons who live in walk-up flats decorated with posters of Humphrey Bogart and W. C. Fields, with doors converted into coffee tables and bookcases assembled from bricks. She played the guitar, or maybe the recorder. Her husband was some kind of executive trainee and when he made it big enough she would buy a real bookcase and a real coffee table, move to the suburbs, have children and take to drink.
She was watching the film with such intense concentration that Mr. Zip almost expected her to take out a pad and start making notes for tomorrow's surprise quiz in "Modern Cinematography," a course she would be taking in her spare time at the city college.
Mr. Zip had found that this sort was always good for a fast fuck-you could always talk an intelligent girl into bed-but he didn't really feel up to trying. He was still dragged out from the day's activities, and he had to be in topnotch shape for tonight's party. Nevertheless, the faint spice of her perfume and the close presence of those mouth-watering tits at his elbow, combined with the stimulus of the dirty movie, were enough to cause a stir of excitement in his pants.
The film ended, and most of Zip's neighbors left. The girl with the glasses remained for the next showing and, unfortunately, so did the woman with the hat. Mr. Zip could have found another seat easily now, but he was reluctant to leave the girl next to him. Even if he never did fuck her, it was nice to glance down at a pair of real tits once in a while-even covered ones-to compare with the bare ones being bounced around with abandon in the movie.
They sat sedately through the cartoon and the previews, then settled down as the film began again. Mr. Zip, his embarrassment forgotten, peeled another banana and settled down to watch.
As the fucking on the screen progressed, Mr. Zip found he had to lean toward the girl to see around the hat-and he felt his arm being nudged by her elbow. He glanced at her, but she was watching the movie and taking no notice of him. She must have bumped into him accidentally while shifting her position in her seat.
A few minutes passed, and Mr. Zip felt himself being nudged again. He looked at her more closely. Her elbow was moving on the arm of her seat, causing her tits to give a definite little wiggle with each movement. He saw that her hands were under the raincoat on her lap, and her lips were wet and slightly parted.
Sure now of what was going on, Mr. Zip leaned over and whispered in her ear, "I think I can do that for you better than you can."
The girl turned to look at him, a slight smile playing on her lips. Her eyes were dreamy and slightly unfocused. Mr. Zip reached over and pulled the raincoat off her lap. Just as he suspected, her skirt was hitched up around her hips, her knees were spread wide, and she was feeling and rubbing her cunt with the fingers of both hands. She wasn't wearing panties, and Mr. Zip peered through the dim light with approval at the triangle of black hair framed by the taut black elastic of her garter belt.
Zip reached over and put his own hand on her box, his fingers tickled by the curly cunt hair as they made their way down the delicious path to the wet lips of her pussy.
She leaned on his shoulder, and her lips and hair brushed his cheek as she whispered, "Oh, that's so-o-o much better!"
"Why don't we get out of here, and go somewhere where there's a bed?" suggested Mr. Zip. He'd been in too many Ralph the Rapist-type situations today for a person who wasn't especially crazy about fucking in public places; and besides, the small theater seats with their snug arms would make fucking her a job for a contortionist.
"Oh, no," she said, "that would be wrong. Just feel it-a little feel isn't bad, is it?"
"Not at all," said Mr. Zip as his fingers continued their investigation and probed into the sticky warmth of her pussy, "but there's nothing wrong with making out in bed, either."
"Oh, but it would be wrong. You see, I'm married," she said, as if that explained all.
"Will you please be quiet!" said the woman with the hat, suddenly turning around and staring at Zip. Zip and the girl were both disconcerted, but apparently the light was too dim for the woman to see what was happening behind her.
The girl giggled with relief when the woman with the hat turned away, and her hand, free from its other duties, crept up Zip's thigh until it touched the hard bulge in his pants.
"Oh, my," she said. "I can't have all the fun for myself."
Her other hand undid his belt and zipper, then she reached under the elastic of his underwear until she could touch his prick and begin fondling it. It swelled even further, and Mr. Zip, after glancing around to see that no one was watching, pulled his pants and underwear down to his knees. His prick popped up to attention, happy to be out in the cool air of the movie house and having all this attention lavished on it.
With her fingers on the underside of the prick and her thumb on top, the girl slowly began pulling the skin up and down, using her other hand to pinch and caress the head.
"I never jerked off a man before," she whispered. "Will you let me do that to you?"
"It would be my pleasure," said Mr. Zip with his characteristic good manners, as he worked his thumb deeper into the humid depths of her tunnel of love.
Mr. Zip sat back and spread his legs with a contented sigh as she manipulated his cock with gentle tugs and pushes. A woman's touch on a prick, Mr. Zip had found, was a good yardstick for her abilities as a lover. Some women never progressed beyond the timid tickles of an unpracticed virgin; on the other hand, there were women who grabbed it the unfeeling way they would grab the handle of a one-armed bandit-these Mr. Zip tried to avoid. This girl had just the right touch: she wasn't at all shy about handling his prick, and she held it firmly enough, but her touch was still gentle. At the same time, Mr. Zip, an expert in the art of feeling cunts, was giving her as good as he got.
The girl's hair and face brushed his cheek all the while, and often their lips would meet in a loose, wet kiss, while their teeth and tongues tangled together sweetly. Mr. Zip was still fascinated by her shapely tits, and while the action progressed he undid two buttons of her sweater and slipped his hand inside it. Just as he had believed, she was wearing no bra. Her tits were big and smooth and soft, and Zip felt the nipples shriveling with passion under his expert touch.
Her massage was doing wonders for his overworked cock. It had swollen up to its full size, hard as it had ever been, and was hot and pulsing in the cool air of the darkened theater. It would be a while yet before he would come, but he already felt a faint stirring deep inside his prick that told him this was going to be a good one. He really wanted to stick it into her, despite the grand job she was doing of jerking him off: "A prick in the bush is worth two in the hand," he believed.
"Look, why don't we go and find a bed?" Zip said. "This is really great, but it could be a lot better."
"No, I told you," she said. "I just couldn't face my husband if I let another man lay me. This is fun, isn't it?"
"It sure is," said Mr. Zip. She was obviously some kind of nut, and Mr. Zip didn't want to give up what he had by insisting too strongly that they go to bed together.
"I wish your thumb was bigger, though," she sighed in his ear. "It just doesn't fill me up the way Elmer's penis does."
"Elmer?"
"My husband," she explained.
The woman with the hat turned around and glared at them-just giving Mr. Zip time to lean forward enough for his baggy coat to cover his swelling prick. She looked him square in the eye, though, which was fortunate-it wouldn't be easy to miss their disarranged clothes and see what was going on.
"If you two can't be quiet, I'm going to go to the manager and have you thrown out!" she hissed, then turned around primly and faced the screen.
While Mr. Zip was leaning forward, his hand came in contact with the brown paper bag on the floor, and he had a sudden stroke of genius. He took out the remaining bananas and broke the largest of the lot from the stalk. With the skin on, it was firm, almost hard, and it was an unusually large banana-big as a large prick.
"You're not feeling me up," the girl complained in a whisper, "you've got to keep up your half of this-oh!-what are you doing? Oh-oh, God, I never-oh!-oh! That's good-yes, do it, do it, do it!"
"Well, you said my thumb wasn't big enough," said Mr. Zip sliding the banana in and out of her cunt. "How's that for size?"
"Oh, my, that's better than Elmer!" she said, writing in the seat with pleasure as the imitation prick worked its golden length into her pussy.
The girl began jerking him off with renewed energy-although every now and then she stopped when her own pleasure overwhelmed her and her body gave little shudders of delight. Her sweater was hanging all the way open now, her succulent breasts thrusting out, dim and white in the pale glow from the screen, and Mr. Zip couldn't resist leaning over and filling his mouth with one of them as he kept up the steady thrusting of the golden tool, its yellow skin now wet and shiny with her abundant juice.
Her own tugging at his foreskin became spasmodic. The rhythm deteriorated, she began pulling at random as her own body began swirling away on a whirlpool of pleasure-but Zip was going the same way, and the erratic jerks were sending him up over the edge-right up and over it. Just as she threw her head back in the grip of a wild orgasm, Zip felt his own erotic pressures hitting the danger point and exploding, and his juice spurted up in the air as he came and came-and came. ... all over the hat of the woman sitting in front of him.
The shock of what had happened almost blotted out Mr. Zip's pleasure. He barely felt the girl's continued strokes as the last spurts of his orgasm dribbled out over her hand. He just hadn't believed he would shoot that high-and a perfect shot it was, for the whole load had landed among the flowers of that obnoxious hat. He just sat there, paralyzed, gripping his wet banana and staring in fascination at the mess glistening on the hat.
The girl with the glasses snuggled against him, rubbing her bare breasts against his arm and making little moans of satisfaction. "That was so good," she said. "I'll never use my fingers again-I have to get some bananas." Mr. Zip, unable to speak, gestured with the banana at the hat. The girl took in the situation with a glance and began giggling. It was no laughing matter for Zip, though; he could see the headlines already:
MILLIONAIRE JAILED FOR INDECENT ACT--ZIP IS COMING ATTRACTION AT MOVIE
And now-now, of, God!-it was beginning to run down the brim of that ridiculous hat-it was slowly-oh, no-it was slowly getting ready to drip over that obscene brim onto her neck. Mr. Zip pulled his pants up quickly and motioned to the girl to pull her clothes together. Then he took her hand and started to lead her out-but at that moment, the first crystal drop fell from the woman's hat onto her neck. Her hand went up to her neck instantly, and she turned around to stare at Zip with a puzzled but ever so slightly horrified look.
"Did you just-spit on my neck?" the woman asked in disbelief.
His wits returning in time, Zip pointed at the ceiling as he rose to leave with the girl. "Air conditioning," he said. "Moisture condenses up there. Happens all the time in this place."
Before she had time to mull this one over, Zip led the girl out of the row and up the aisle, one hand in hers and the other holding the banana bag, until they paused at the popcorn machine in the lobby and both began laughing uncontrollably.
"I didn't know a man could shoot that far," she said, when she'd got over her fit of laughter.
"Well, naturally you wouldn't notice if it was inside you, where it belongs," said Zip logically. "By the way, my name is Zip."
"It is?" she said in amazement-then recovered her manners, extended her hand, and said, "I'm pleased to meet you. My name is Lily Ipso. Is that your first name or your last name?"
"Both," said Zip, who was a little annoyed that anyone with a name like Lily Ipso should think his name odd.
"You mean, your name is Zip Zip?"
"No, of course not," said Mr. Zip, growing slightly impatient. It's just Zip. My friends call me Zip, and people I don't know call me Mr. Zip-it's very simple and saves all sorts of social embarrassments. I had it changed for professional purposes."
"I hope you don't think I'm being forward on such short acquaintance, but why?" asked Lily Ipso.
"Well," said Mr. Zip, who was somewhat mollified by her innocent curiosity-"a long name is a useless piece of vanity. Suppose, for instance, your name is Donald Mumford Duck, or J. Shredded Wheat-you may put that at the bottom of your checks and on your office door, but nobody's going to call you that. If you're in bed with a woman, she's not going to say, 'Oh, Alphonso F. X. Graffiti, you turn me on'-or if your house is on fire, nobody's going to yell at your door, 'Wake up, Rumpelstilskin J. Poachduck!' It's much easier to have a simple name that anybody can call you anytime, isn't it?"
Lily Ipso's big blue eyes looked deeply sincere as they gazed at him through her glasses and she said, "I think you're completely out of your mind."
"Perhaps," said Mr. Zip, "but you're not exactly a tower of mental health yourself-isn't it crazy to let a man fuck you with a banana, but not with his cock, because you're afraid of being unfaithful to your husband?"
"It's not crazy at all," said Lily Ipso, pouting. "Fucking is something special, that I share with my husband-but how I play with my cunt, or let somebody else play with it when he's not around, is my own business. After all, with all this new morality and everything, you have to draw the line somewhere."
The girl behind the popcorn stand, unnoticed by Mr. Zip and Lily Ipso, had been listening to all this with wide-eyed curiosity. Finally, she could control herself no longer, and said to them, "Gee, you guys are even better than that dirty movie."
"I beg your pardon," said Zip, drawing Lily Ipso out of earshot. Zip didn't know if it was because of the challenge she presented, or solely because of her personal attractiveness, but he had an intense desire to give Lily Ipso the fucking of her life; he wondered how he could get around her odd mental block.
"What if Elmer were unfaithful to you? Would that make a difference?"
"I suppose it would-but you don't know Elmer. He's so shy he fucks me under the covers, and I don't think he'd have the nerve to try anything with another woman."
"Why don't you bring him to my party tonight? There'll be lots of girls there, and he can have one of them while we have some fun for ourselves-a fair exchange like that would be no robbery."
"I think I'd like that," said Lily Ipso, rubbing her lithe body against him, "but you don't know Elmer-it sounds like you're throwing some kind of orgy, and I think he'd grab his hat and run."
"Well, bring him along and see what he does," said Zip, handing her his card with the address of his home. "In the meantime, how about some fucking on account?"
"No, and that's final. I want to see what Elmer does, first."
As they walked out of the lobby together, they passed the door of the theater manager's office, and heard a woman, saying loudly:
Your filthy air conditioning has spoiled my hat!"
They were about to part company, when Lily Ipso said, "Say, Zip, can I have that banana? I might want to have some fun on my own."
Zip shook his head. "I'm going to keep it, for a souvenir," he said.
Actually, he thought as he watched her walk away, her ass quivering seductively under her tight skirt and her long black hair hanging down her back, he had a diabolically clever use for the banana. He was going to make sure one of the maids sliced it up over his wife's breakfast cereal in the morning. It would serve her right, the frigid, useless, block of ice.
Then he remembered-Mrs. Zip was leaving for her Aunt Martha's for a few days that afternoon. He decided to eat the banana himself. It was the best one he ever had.
CHAPTER SIX
The party was in high gear at Zip's house now, with some twenty guests rattling around in stately Zip manor. Although Mr. Zip, as usual, was at the center of the most frenzied activity, there was no real organization or plan to the gathering. The guests were simply let loose in the big house, wandering around as their fancy suited them amid an abundant supply of liquor, food and opportunities to fuck. Some wore evening clothes, some wore shabby dungarees, and some wore no clothes at all. Those immediately around Mr. Zip had followed his example by stripping the beds for togas made of sheets and raiding the garden for wreaths of leaves. The beds had been stripped of mattresses, too, and a dozen of them were scattered about the floor of the main room so that any couple with an itch to fuck could simply flop down and do it where they were. Anyone who wanted more privacy could retire to a bedroom upstairs or go out into the garden, where a warm summer night and the splash of the fountains made a delightful background for al fresco fucking.
Mr. Zip was slightly worried because neither Priscilla Maybank the juicy teenager, nor Lily Ipso, the Banana Festival Queen, had shown up yet, and it was almost ten o'clock; but otherwise, the party was swinging along in fine style.
"Stick the Prick in the Lady," echoed Tanya, the redheaded nurse. Her toga was draped carelessly around her shoulders, leaving her big, firm breasts bare, and her wreath was a little askew on her pretty head. "It sounds like a simply great game. How do you play it?"
"Just like Pin the Tail on the Donkey," said Zip. "The lady lies on a table like this one, with her cunt at the edge, just about at the height of a man's prick. Each man is blindfolded and spun around, and the one who sticks his prick right into her cunt is the winner-you can't use your hands, and if your prick touches anything else, before her cunt, you lose. The winner, or course, gets to finish fucking her."
Mr. Zip ripped a blindfold from the edge of his bedsheet toga and the game got underway. Tanya was eager to play the part of the lady, and slipped off her toga and lay on the table in the appropriate position without any coaxing required. They soon found that she wasn't the ideal target, though. Every time a male player went astray, she would whisper, "Stick it here! Here it is!" to get him back on the right track. Everyone complained about it, but Tanya just couldn't seem to control herself.
"I just can't stand seeing a hard prick getting away from me like that," she explained sheepishly.
They decided to disqualify her in the interests of sportsmanship, and Tanya flounced away, pouting, her bare beautiful ass twitching with anger, as she went to look for a good fucking somewhere else at the party.
Mr. Zip decided that Irma, the new maid, would make a calmer and more tractable target for the game. The maids at Zip's house had the duty of keeping plenty of liquor and food available, but they were free to join the party and have as much fun as they could whenever they were able. Irma was delighted with the honor, and shucked her silk minidress hastily. Dressed only in black net stockings and garterbelt that comprised the rest of her uniform, she lay back on the table and spread her legs in happy anticipation. Her big, pink cunt with its delightful fringe of blonde hair made a beautiful target, and it was already damp with juice just from her lecherous thoughts of the pricks that would soon be aiming for it.
"Oh, I hope you guys are good at this," she said. "I haven't fucked with a man since this morning, and I'm just dying for it!"
Irma began to get impatient when four players had tried for her appetizing pussy without success; the closest contestant managed only to rub his hot prick against her thigh, and that increased her frustration. The rules said he had to go straight in without touching any other part of her first.
Irma's interest increased, though, when Harry's turn came up. "Oh, just look at that bat!" sighed Irma, wiggling her principal charms in hot anticipation. "He must be the cleanup hitter."
Her joy didn't last long, though, because Harry's pecker, big and impressive though it was just hanging there between his legs-just hung there between his legs.
"Jeez, I just can't get it up," mumbled Harry, in a convulsion of embarrassment.
"Don't worry about it, Harry, it happens to everyone from time to time," said Zip, who always said the right thing in ticklish social situations like this.
Tanya, who had apparently found what she was looking for elsewhere without any difficulty, came back at that moment and picked up Harry's limp pound of flesh in her palm. "What's the matter, Harry? You been doing naughty things in the bathroom again?" she jibed.
"Cut it out, Tanya," said Harry, his face reddening.
"All right, Harry, I'm just teasing," said Tanya, her disposition apparently mellowed by her recent bout of fucking. "I'll tell you how to get his prick up, Irma. Harry's got this thing for assholes, like I told Mr. Zip, so if you'll just turn over and show him your ass, he'll snap to attention like that."
Anxious to please, Irma turned over and thrust out the pink and white cheeks of her ass, wiggling them gleefully and spreading them with her hands to give Harry a better view of all her hairy delicacies. The effect on Harry was uncanny. His cock gave a little twitch, like a man rousing himself from sleep, then began swelling and swelling-and swelling-until it stuck out proudly in front of him, stiff as a board. The men in the group couldn't hide their fascination, and the girls gave little gasps of surprise and delight. None of them had ever seen a cock like that before, at least not on a human being; a written statement of its actual dimensions would be dismissed as idle fantasy.
"Hey, you better be damn careful where you stick that thing!" said Irma, her alarm growing as the cock grew behind her. "I took a normal-sized one in the asshole once, and I couldn't sit down for a week. The rules say he has to stick it in my cunt, right?"
"Oh, that's okay," said Harry. "I got to admit, looking at your ass is what turns me on, but I'll be just as happy to fuck you the regular way."
"It looks kind of big even for that," said Irma, dubiously.
"Don't worry, honey," said Tanya. "I thought he was going to split me open the first time I saw his cock, but you have more room in there than you'd believe. You'll fit him like a glove."
"Well, he's got to find it first," said Zip, putting the blindfold over Harry's eyes and spinning him around.
The trouble they'd taken with Harry's cock proved to be fruitless, though; He started off at a dead run, anxious to shove it in Irma and absolutely sure of his direction but he was totally wrong, and ran out the open french doors into the garden. They heard a loud splash from the fountain.
The next contestant was Prof. Rube Grindort, another Zip U. luminary, who was chairman of the university's Mediaeval American Literature Department. Prof. Grindort was jumping up and down with impatience for his turn, and once blindfolded he headed on a bee-line for what he thought was Irma's hungry cunt-but he headed for the buffet table by mistake, and let out a shout of triumphant satisfaction as he shoved his prick into a high-piled plate of shrimp salad. Before anyone could reach him to point out his error, he had come all over it.
Prof. Grindort refused to be put down by his experience. "It's not what you're doing that counts," he said, philosophically, "It's what you think you're doing.
His blunder wasn't a total loss, though, because Tanya, claiming she was hungry, volunteered to lick the gooey salad off Grindort's prick. She took him to a near-by mattress to enjoy her hors d'oeuvre at leisure.
Mr. Zip decided it was time to circulate among his guests and see who had joined the party while he was occupied with the game. As his progress took him to the front door, he was delighted to find Priscilla Maybank peering timidly into the foyer.
"Oh, Dr. Edwards! I was afraid I'd come to the wrong place or something-everybody seems to be having so much fun, I couldn't believe it was a doctors' meeting," she said.
"Well, doctors have fun, too. Why don't you come on in?"
"Gosh, I'm kind of ashamed of the way I'm dressed-see, I had to sneak out, and Mother locks up my clothes at night. These were the only things I could find, and I guess I've grown since I used to wear them," she said, stepping into the foyer.
Priscilla, barefoot, was dressed in a skintight pair of shorts that rode so high the succulent pink skin at the curve of her ass was visible, and an equally tight sweater that didn't hide anything at all of her bulging breasts and their delectable nipples. "I hope it's not-immodest, or anything," she said.
"Not at all," said Zip, "wait till you see what everybody's wearing-and look at what I've got on." He opened his bedsheet to stand nude in front of her, his prick sticking up stiff and hot.
"Oh, gee, there's that great thing you used on me this afternoon," she said. "It worked fine when you did it, but I really think I need another treatment as soon as I can get one."
"Oh, don't worry, you'll really get the treatment tonight," said Zip, putting his arm around her waist as he led her to the stairway overlooking the main room. Priscilla paused and gasped at the scene spread before her.
"Why, just look at all those pricks! And all those women being treated. Gee, I never imagined anything like this-it's really an inspiring sight, Doctor," she said.
"Well, as you can see, nobody's wearing much of anything now," said Mr. Zip, "so if those clothes embarrass you, I'll help you take them off."
Priscilla responded with alacrity this time, raising her arms as Mr. Zip peeled the sweater up over her beautifully developed boobs. He couldn't resist the temptation they presented, and he made her sit down on the stairway while he rubbed them and weighed them and fondled them with his hands and sucked them into his mouth.
"Oh, my goodness, Doctor, I think I really need that treatment now," said Priscilla.
"Don't worry, we'll get to it," said Mr. Zip as he fumbled with the zipper at the side of her shorts. In no time at all he was shucking them off the delirious white expanse of her belly and hips, over the pubic mound with its fleece of gold and down her long, beautiful legs, until she was completely, magnificently nude.
"Now, let's go down to one of those mattresses and give you what you want," said Mr. Zip, helping Priscilla to her feet and guiding her down the stairs.
They passed the table where the game of Stick the Prick in the Lady was going on, and Mr. Zip saw that Dr. Ralph O'Toole had won, no doubt by cheating somehow. Irma was whooping with joy as he socked it to her in front of a delighted audience.
They found a mattress not in use-a difficult thing at this stage of the party-and Mr. Zip and Priscilla lay down side by side on it while he stroked and petted her glorious young body. She politely asked permission to examine his prick more closely and he obliged, moving his hips toward her head so that she could take a good look.
Priscilla pulled at it and pushed it this way and that, inspecting it from every angle with wide-eyed curiosity. "What a wonderful machine," she said, "I still don't believe that it isn't a real part of you."
"Well, it sort of grows on you after they give it to you at medical school," explained Mr. Zip. "But this isn't getting you your treatment. Now, open your mouth and say, 'aah."
Priscilla opened her mouth and said 'aah,' and Mr. Zip put his prick neatly into it. Priscilla backed off momentarily, saying, "Gee, how come our school doctor uses a tongue depressor? I'll have to ask him to use his prick, next time."
"Yes, you do that," said Mr. Zip, shoving it back between her lips. "Now, Priscilla, I want you to close your lips around it-no-ouch!-not your teeth, for God's sake, your lips!-aaah, there-and suck on it, yes, that's it-just like you'd suck on a peppermint stick. Now, don't forget to lick it with your tongue, too-oooh, that's the way to do it, Priscilla, just suck it like that and I'll give you a little of that mouth-to-pussy resuscitation."
Mr. Zip pushed her lovely white thighs apart and put his head between them, drinking in the sight of her pink, recently virginal cunt with lustful eyes. His fingers tickled it, spreading the lips apart as he stared at every bit of the lovely sight before him. Unable to hold back any longer, he pressed his mouth against it and licked it from one end to the other, sucking the lips and the clit and the hair right into his own mouth and nibbling on them, ever so lightly, with his teeth. Priscilla moaned with ecstasy around her stiff mouthful and sucked it with redoubled fervor. All of her senses seemed alive and tingling with acute pleasure. Even the scent of the hairy balls bouncing over her pretty little nose and the mysterious kissing noises that Mr. Zip was making at her pussy thrilled her.
Mr. Zip, for his part, had never come across such an apt pupil in his entire career. Priscilla didn't even know what she was doing, yet she was sucking him off better than girls who'd been practicing that art, day and night, for ten years or more. The temptation to turn around and lash his prick into her juicy young pussy was powerful, but the pleasure of Priscilla's blowjob was so overwhelming that Mr. Zip decided to come that way. He began shoving his hips up and down over her mouth, driving the prick in and out between her sucking lips-and her lips clung even more tightly to his cock and her thighs closed firmly on his head, pushing his mouth down hard against her pussy.
Mr. Zip kept up his end of the work, licking and sucking her tender cunt all the while his hips were lurching and plunging above her sweet young face-but then, as his pleasure mounted and skyrocketed, he pressed hard against her crotch and his lips were still for a moment-and then he came, shooting a great wad of juice into her mouth and following it up with one-two-three diminishing spurts of hot semen.
Priscilla sucked and swallowed hungrily, gobbling the sticky juice and making delighted squeaks in her throat. "What a way to take medicine!" she said as his prick grew limp and she removed it, dripping, from her honeyed lips. Grinning with pleasure, Mr. Zip sat up and kissed those talented lips warmly-but she pulled back.
"Gee, Doctor, I don't think we should do that-I don't think it's at all proper for you to kiss me. If you try it again, I'll have to tell my Mother," she said.
"Well, I just meant it in a fatherly way, Priscilla," Mr. Zip explained. "I was so proud of the way you took your medicine, like such a brave little girl."
"Well, Mother tells me I just can't be too careful with men, that's all," said Priscilla, now a little ashamed of her foolish suspicions. "She's always telling me to watch out for improper advances, but she never told me exactly what an improper advance is."
"Where did you get the jailbait, Zip?" asked Ralph the Rapist, approaching them.
"Oh, Dr. O'Toole," said Zip. "The is Miss Maybank, a patient I've brought here for some special treatments."
"What did he call you?" Priscilla asked Zip.
"Wait a minute-more important, what did he call YOU?" Ralph the Rapist asked Priscilla.
"Maybank. Priscilla Maybank," Zip answered for her.
"And are you related, by any chance, to Mother Maybank?" Ralph persisted.
"Why, yes, that's my Mother," Priscilla said. "Do you know her?"
"We know her," said Ralph, turning to Zip with a sly smile-and Zip was doing his best to control a grimace of sheer horror. That was why her name had sounded so damned familiar! Mother Maybank was the leader, the guiding spirit, the messiah of the Mothers' March on Zipism-a sort of John Brown in drag, who inflamed her followers into burning down Research Centers, beating up the patrons and shaving the heads of the Researchers.
"Why, what's the matter with your prick, Doctor?" asked Priscilla, distracted by the sight of Mr. Zip's battle-weary tool shriveled limp and useless under his belly.
"It takes a little time to get it back in shape after a treatment like the one I gave you," said Mr. Zip, surprised that he could speak at all.
"Well, there doesn't seem to be anything wrong with this one," said Priscilla, reaching up to fondle the hard erection that Ralph had developed while feasting his eyes avidly on her nude body. "Dr. Edwards was going to treat my pussy, but he treated my mouth, instead-and I think my-pussy really needs a treatment now, it feels all hot and bothered."
"There's a lot of that going around," agreed Ralph, pushing her shoulders back against the mattress and climbing over her, "but we'll have you as good as new in no time at all. I've always wanted to give your Mother the treatment, but I'm really honored to have you for a patient."
Mr. Zip, in a slight daze, wandered away as Ralph the Rapist began vigorously humping Priscilla to the accompaniment of her delighted squeals. He had managed to ward off Mother Maybank's attacks on his empire up till now, but if she ever found out about this....
Mr. Zip wasn't listening. There were two women standing at the head of the stairs with the rigid, erect bearing of Marine drill instructors, and one of them was Mrs. Zip. The other was a cool blonde in her early forties, with a bustline in the late forties, and a very well-turned pair of legs.
"I knew you were a monster," hissed Mrs. Zip as he approached them, "but this goes beyond that, to do this to my own home, to humiliate me in front of my Aunt Martha like this-"
"Oh, how do you do, Aunt Martha?" said Mr. Zip. "I don't believe I've had the pleasure of meeting you before."
"The pleasure is entirely yours, you swine," said Aunt Martha. "This vile scene would probably sicken even Mr. Zip himself."
Aunt Martha's face turned as white as Mr. Zip's bedsheet. Her jaw dropped as she stared at him, wide-eyed and speechless with horror. At this moment, Elmer Ipso came forward, flinging aside his own bedsheet.
"Gee, are you Mrs. Zip?" he asked. "You know, you look just like one of those Playmates of the Month you read about in-
He could go no further, for Mrs. Zip hit him with a stiff right uppercut that came all the way from the deck, sending him spinning head over heels down the marble stairway.
A couple of people were running up the stairs, and they avoided Elmer skillfully as they came. Mr. Zip saw that they were Priscilla Maybank, stark nude, and Ralph the Rapist, hotly pursuing her with a monolithic erection.
"Mother!" squealed Priscilla. "How wonderful to see you here! Have you come for a treatment, too?"
Aunt Martha's eyes rolled back in her head. She collapsed on the hard floor in a dead faint.
"This is impossible," said Mr. Zip to his wife. "Do you mean to tell me that your Aunt Martha is Mother Maybank, the crazy lady who's trying to send me to jail and ruin my business?"
"What's so crazy about that?" said Mrs. Zip. "You deserve everything you get, you bastard. Hey what's going on there? For God's sake, stop it!: Stop it!"
Mrs. Zip's last remarks were directed at Ralph the Rapist. He and Priscilla had arrived at Mother Maybank's side, and while she was chafing her mother's wrists, he was tearing her clothes off.
"It's a good thing we got here just in time," said Ralph, ripping off her bra and kneading her gigantic boobs. "This lady is in desperate need of an emergency treatment.
"Don't worry, Cousin Mary," said Priscilla, turning to Mrs. Zip, "he'll have his prick inside of her in no time, and she'll be as good as new, I'm sure."
To avoid having her spoil the fun, Mr. Zip began dragging his screeching wife down the stairs to the party. It was all he could do to handle his writhing, voluptuous iceberg, and Tanya and Irma came to his aid to help drag her down.
"Calm down, honey," said Tanya. "I don't know what your trouble is, but it's nothing a good hard cock won't cure, and you've come to the right place for that."
"I can't stand cocks!" screamed Mrs. Zip. "I hate them. I despise cocks! They make me sick!"
"Now, now, dear, Miss Hyde is a nurse, and she knows what's best for you," said Mr. Zip.
"Nobody's going to stick his dirty prick in me!" howled Mrs. Zip.
After this sacrilege, you could have heard a pin drop at the party, if Mrs. Zip weren't screaming so loudly. All eyes were on her as she was dragged down the stairs. Tanya was doing her best to undress her as they progressed, and Irma soon caught on to the game and began helping her.
"I told you myself that you needed a good, hot prick inside you, Mrs. Zip, and now you have a real nurse tell you the same thing," said Irma.
"I've been telling her the same thing myself for ten years," agreed Mr. Zip.
"You damned little bitch!" shouted Mrs. Zip as Irma pulled her dress off, leaving her only in her bra, panties and stockings. "I'm going to get you for this, I thought we were friends."
"I'm doing it for you, Mrs. Zip, and I bet you're going to thank me for it," said Irma, unhooking her bra.
They dumped Mrs. Zip unceremoniously over the back of the couch when they got her downstairs. Her complaints were muffled by the pillows as she lay jackknifed over the thing, head downward, and her big, voluptuous ass, covered by flimsy red panties, stuck up in the air. Irma held her legs at the back of the couch while Tanya pushed her bare shoulders down, effectively pinning her in the position.
Mr. Zip gave his wife a resounding slap on the ass and addressed the interested spectators who had gathered around for the fun. "We have here a very shapely block of ice, ladies and gentlemen. This lacy confection-" he snapped the elastic of her panties loudly, "hides one of the most well-rounded asses in the entire United States and Canada, and under here-" he gave her crotch a poke with his forefinger-" is one of the most succulent, mouth-watering cunts that ever drove a man up the wall with desire and despair. For ten years it's been under my personal supervision, and I haven't been able to do a damned thing with it. Like I said, it's an iceberg. Now, if any of you think you're a better man than I am, and can thaw out the banquet in this deep-freeze, then you're perfectly free to try."
When they'd heard this touching story, there was hardly a dry mouth or a limp prick in the audience, and the men surged forward to try their skill with the woman who had remained cold even to Mr. Zip's renowned talents. Zip half expected it would be Ralph the Rapist who would come forward, but a glance to the top of the stairs revealed that Ralph was still busily pumping his meat into the nemesis of their existence, Mother Maybank. Mr. Zip couldn't credit his eyes, but it appeared that Mother Maybank had awakened and had wrapped her legs around the rambunctious Dr. O'Toole-at least, she wasn't screaming any protests, but he couldn't be sure at this distance what was really happening. He fully expected, when this night was over, that he would have to fly the coop, change his name cleverly to Mr. Piz, and start a new life as a pot walloper in someplace like Scenic, S.D., while the FBI sought him high and low for violations of the Man Act, the Woman Act, the Child Act and the Animal Act.
It was Harry who stepped forward, though, Harry of the Horse Cock, brushing the others back with a big arm. "With your permission, Mr. Zip," he said, placing his hand on one of the quivering cheeks under the red lace.
"Make yourself at home," said Mr. Zip, retiring to a mattress with Lily Ipso for a ringside seat.
"What did you do to my poor husband?" whispered Lily, pointing at Elmer's inert form on the ballroom floor.
"Mrs. Zip hi! him, like you read about in the Iliad," said Zip. "Sshh!"
"Now it's my contention," said Harry, "that Mr. Zip, for all his well-known ability, has been approaching this problem the wrong way. Samantha, would you please get me a jar of vaseline?"
"It's unfair! You don't even have a hard-on!" interrupted Prof. Rube Grindort, who definitely did have one.
"I beg your indulgence for a moment, Professor," said Harry, turning to Mrs. Zip and jerking her panties and garter down over the upward-thrust globes of her creamy ass. He stood there for a moment, devouring the sight with his eyes and stroking her smooth skin with his hands, with the concentration of an enchanter trying to raise a spirit-and he certainly rose it. Up came his prick-up and out, swelling and throbbing, its read head quivering with excitement until it stretched out far enough to push and nuzzle in the cleavage of that big, beautiful ass.
Mrs. Zip, wild with fury, managed to tear her face away from the pillows. Looking over her shoulder, she could see Harry grinning down at her, but she could only see down to his flat, hairy belly, and she had no idea what he had in store for her.
"Get away from me, you big gorilla, if you touch me again with that filthy thing, I'm going to bite your lousy balls off!"
"You couldn't get near them," Harry laughed, standing on tiptoe and waving his colossal pole over the couch at her. Mrs. Zip screamed in terror.
"My God, Zip, get that monster away from me, I'll do anything you want, I swear it, only don't let him near me with that thing," yelled Mrs. Zip.
"You had your chance," Zip called, his head cradled comfortably in Lily's lap as he watched the performance in comfort.
Samantha returned with the vaseline and began to scoop it out liberally and apply it to Harry's remarkable cock. It seemed to melt instantly, like fat on a hot stove, and, Harry's cock seemed to grow even bigger under Samantha's gentle massage.
Tanya was alarmed at these preparations.
'Harry, you can't be thinking of, no, you just can't do it! You'll split her wide open."
"Now, I know what I'm doing, I've been wanting some of this all day, and I believe Mr. Zip has given me a free hand, or a free prick, I should say, with Mrs. Zip. Right?"
"Go ahead, " said Zip.
Harry's giant tool was shining with grease from one end to the other now, a tiny bead of dew brought on by Samantha's ministrations dripping from the tip. He took the jar from her, stuck his thumb in it, and smeared some around Mrs. Zip's tight little asshole.
"No!" shrieked Mrs. Zip as the horror dawned on her. "I'll be good to you, Zip, I swear it, I'll let you fuck me every single night, and I'll suck you off every morning, only don't please don't let him put it there! He'll kill me!"
"And the world will say that she died for love," said Lily Ipso, who had acquired a guitar somewhere and was strumming gently on it. Mr. Zip was delighted to learn that his part of his character analysis, conducted on first sight in the movie house, was also true.
"Now Samantha," said Harry, "if you'll take one of her legs while Irma takes the other, and spread them a little wider, yes, wider, that's it."
Mrs. Zip's legs were spread wide now, and the cheeks of her ass were wide, too, bringing the little bud with its wispy fringe of black hair that straggled down from her cunt, into greater prominence. Harry took another load of grease on his thumb and pushed it right into the virginal orifice, twisting it this way and that and ignoring Mrs. Zip's hysterical howls.
"Now, Madame, if you'll shut up long enough to listen to some sound advice, I suggest that you relax your asshole as much as you possibly can, otherwise, this just might smart a bit," said Harry, rubbing the excess grease on his thighs.
Except for the rhythmic slap of flesh on marble from the top of the stairs, Dr. O'Toole was still hard at work, the room was absolutely silent as Harry took her hips in a firm grip, smiled at the two acolytes holding Mrs. Zip's legs apart, and began to push his fantastic equipment forward against the last stronghold of Mrs. Zip's maidenhead. The very tip went in, surprising enough, but now the rest of his prick's huge head was disappearing from view in the greased passage. He stopped for a moment, sweat beading his brow; this wasn't easy work, as Mrs. Zip's screams attested, they were continuous now, and more high-pitched. Then his hips gave a little twist, he shoved harder, and all of that fiery head was shoved into the forbidden tube and vanished form sight.
"Is that all of it?" moaned Mrs. Zip. "For God's sake, that's enough, take it out!"
For an answer Harry struggled to push in a couple more inches, driving Mrs. Zip's howls up a few more decibels. Sweating, legs braced hard and muscles bulging tensely, Harry strove feverishly with the reluctant sphincter, shoving inward inch by slow inch.
Lily Ipso, idly strumming her guitar, was softly singing something about a dead whale on a stove boat as she watched the harpoon plunging home.
It was unbelievable, but Harry's tool was actually disappearing into her asshole, going in all the way. Only a couple of inches remained before his pubic hair would be slam bang against her skin, the entire monstrosity swallowed by Mrs. Zip's innocent anus. Then, with a final superhuman effort, a sudden jerk of his muscular hips and a savage cry from Harry, it was done: the dirigible was snug in its hanger. Mrs. Zip was silent now, biting and clawing the couch in an agony of frustration and pain and disgust, or so Mr. Zip believed her emotions to be.
As slowly as he had entered, Harry began pulling out. Midway, he paused for a second, then shoved back in, slightly smoother this time, but still with great difficulty, then out again, in, out, building up speed and rhythm gradually as he reamed out the tunnel for his fast freight.
Mrs. Zip no longer screamed She was groaning. Deep down in her chest, grunting, actually, and she was grunting one word, over and over again: Cock, cock, oh, cock, it's beautiful!"
Mr. Zip was flabbergasted. What his prick had failed to do in ten years of prodding and poking around this icy statue, Harry's had done in a few minutes. Harry had taken her virginity, concealed not in her cunt, as it is with the vast majority of women, hut hidden away in this secret place where she had thought no man would ever touch it. Uncanny as it seemed, perhaps Ralph the Rapist was doing the same thing for Mother Maybank, as he peered toward the top of the stairs, he saw her ass humping under Ralph in a way that suggested cooperation, at least.
He sighed contentedly, and kissed Lily Ipso on her soft inner thigh, as she began to strum the guitar louder, singing, to the tune of "Sweet Betsy from Pike"-
"I'll tell you a story about Mr. Zip:
He always was ready to shoot from the hip;
He looked just like Harpo, with curly red hair, And he screwed all the girls, just because they were there."
