enovel Thanks For The Mammaries John Dover [Future Story Codes]

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Thanks For The Mammaries ....(91k)    by John Dover

CHAPTER ONE

I don't know when I first learned that I liked to have my titties sucked, but I must have been about twelve years old. I was just in grammar school, of course, but I was already big for my age, and the little boys stared at me and gossiped about me among themselves, and were always trying to cop a feel on the outside of my sweater.

The girls noticed me, too, and were always looking at me. Sometimes when we were changing for gym some shy little thing would "accidentally" brush my big boobies and look demurely up into my eyes. But I couldn't get interested in girls-then.

I guess it wasn't my fault that I had these big things on my chest, and these wide strawberry areolae, and gigantic nipples surrounded by these cute little pimples. That's just the way I was born.

My big growing titties weren't all, though. I was tall for my age, too, and I had hourglass hips where most of the little girls had only corners or straight lines. And then there was my hair. It was a kind of white-blonde, very long and silky, with sexy waves in it.

So you can imagine that with equipment like mine, everybody stared as I jiggled by. I liked that, too. I knew that the girls would have liked to comb out my hair if I'd let them, and the little boys would have been wild just to get within breathing distance of my boobs. Many's the time I'd be dancing with some boy at the Friday night dance, and he'd usually be shorter than me, and his Adam's apple bobbing up and down and all, and the boy would look as if he was just about ready to faint just from pressing his little chest against my big bazooms. Then I'd feel his bone come up against my thigh, and I'd smile at that nervous look in his eyes, and press myself tighter against him, and rub my thigh against his bone a little, and listen to him sigh, see him close his eyes, and then I'd feel that ejaculation spotting my dress.

You can imagine that I spent a lot of time in front of mirrors. I liked to watch my titties jiggle and I checked them daily to be sure they were growing properly.

But anyway, to get back to what I said before, I don't think I had my titties sucked until I was about twelve.

Of course, sometimes I let the little boys my own age kiss me, but they were so nervous around me it wasn't much fun. I liked the kissing part, though. See, I had these succulent cherry-dark lips that were always slightly moist, and I have a little pink spear of a tongue and very white teeth, and a swell peaches-and-cream complexion everywhere except on my cheekbones, where I'm rosy. So the little boys liked to kiss me, and I liked to kiss them a little and press my big boobies against their narrow chicken chests.

But that was as far as it had gone, until my cousin, Mervyn Coxman, returned from State University one summer.

Mervyn was rather tall and brown-haired and tanned. He had the body of a Greek god, and I was just intrigued enough to wonder if he would help me find out what it was that caused me to toss and turn during the balmy spring nights.

Mervyn was well over six feet tall and had a very lean, angular build that seemed to be all muscles and hard lines, planes, and angles. He was the son of my mother's sister, Voluptua, which naturally made him my cousin, but he had the most wonderfully beautiful and dramatic eyes and mouth, and I just couldn't take my eyes off him that summer.

He was teaching a bunch of younger kids to swim and playing counselor at a camp across the lake, but he used to visit our cabin every so often just to say hello and sponge some food off us. So far as I could tell, he didn't notice me very much, and maybe that excited me all the more.

Mervyn was nineteen and had a very cool, easy way of doing things. Sometimes his body seemed so nimble that I couldn't imagine how he kept it from falling apart. I used to watch his long, smooth legs and wonder how they would feel if I touched them. And his dark tan made him look very heathen, with his lips appearing slightly lighter, even pink, against his dark face, so that I wanted very much to touch them and feel their softness, test his sparkling white teeth somehow, feel his long, dark lashes grazing my rosy, honey-tanned cheek, put my hands on those square shoulders of his, lift my legs up and wrap them around his slender hips.

Of course, this was just all childish daydreaming. I had no idea what might be the outcome of touching Mervyn in all the places I wanted to touch him. All I knew was that I was just drawn to him in a way that I couldn't explain.

I finally managed some time alone with him one afternoon when my mother had gone back to the city. I was left completely alone in the cabin with instructions as to how to manage the laundry, and where to get groceries, and how to contact the handyman if repairs were needed, and things like that.

But Mervyn was the kind of handyman I had in mind.

It was a kind of balmy sunny day, and I was laying down on a reading couch on our veranda, one leg propped up in the air to support a magazine I was reading, wearing my white shorts, a short-sleeve blue sweater that was cut rather low in front, showing off my gorgeous pears to maximum effect, and nothing else.

And who should come swimming across the lake but Cousin Mervyn.

He rose up out of the water and onto our private beach looking like some sort of sea god, all tight with rippling muscles. More than ever I admired the smooth shine of his muscular legs, and the way beads of water gleamed all over his hard, lean-hipped body. This was a mature man!

He came out of the water, ringing out his hair with his hands, striding toward me over the weeds and pebbles of our private beach. "Hi, little cousin," he said cheerily.

"Hi, Mervyn," I said with just a trace of awe in my voice. The way his trunks were cut reminded me of some things I had read about in biology class. I tried to think fast. Now that we were going to have a few moments alone together, how could I get him to help me find out a few things?

"Icebox open?" he asked, and he walked past me into the house.

I got up and followed him inside, murmuring, "Everything's open to you around here, Mervyn."

He gave me a strange glance, then kept on toward the refrigerator.

I felt short next to Mervyn, because he had all the growth of a mature man of nineteen, and his armpits were so thick with a fleecy wet stuff that most boys my age were pretty far from getting. Although I had some there, too, and most girls my age had a little.

He had opened the refrigerator and was staring fixedly inside of it. He finally settled on a chicken leg and sat down at the kitchen table to munch on it. I moved my head so that my yellow hair was able to catch some sunlight.

He said, "This all you got to do all day, just sit around here?"

"I read magazines," I said. Strangely, I could feel a kind of itching between my legs. I looked around to see if I had brought any mosquitoes inside when I had opened the door.

"It's nice out for a swim," he said.

"I'd be happy to go swimming with you, Mervyn."

He looked at me strangely. Suddenly he stopped eating. When I had been much younger I used to sit on his knee and throw my arms around his neck, because that's what loving cousins are for, and little girls always admire their older boy cousins. It had all been very innocent.

But now he asked me, "Say, just how old are you, Honey?" His eyes traveled up and down my body, and I was warmed as if by a caress.

"Twelve, why?"

He concentrated on his chicken leg again. "Oh, I don't know. I guess, now that I see you, I just think you look a lot older, that's all."

"Do you think I could pass for fifteen?"

He looked at me kind of out of the corner of his eye. "Easy," he said softly.

I smiled to myself and pranced out of the room. I settled back down on the veranda and took up my magazine. I had been reading a story about a girl who had been whipped and beaten by a gang of female toughs, and then forced to submit to them. I wasn't quite sure what the word "submit" meant, and what a lot of other things in the story were supposed to mean, but I had a lot of curiosity.

And I also had the feeling that Mervyn would not be far behind me on the porch. In another moment the screen door slammed and I took off my sunglasses, dropping the magazine onto the floor. I stretched so that the boobs on my chest expanded handsomely and, though my eyes had become slits, I could see that Mervyn was watching me. I raised up so that my adorable little belly button was showing, and the shorts were squeezing the life out of me in a very sensitive area. I fluffed out my hair with my fingers and let Mervyn admire its length and texture the way everyone did. I had some tan from the summer, but not as much as he did. But I didn't think he'd mind that.

"Mervyn," I whispered lazily through closed eyes, and I could hear the floorboards creak as he came toward me.

"Yes?" he breathed.

I patted the sofa. "Come on and sit down beside me. We're cousins, aren't we?"

I know now that he couldn't have taken his eyes off me if his life had depended on it. He gulped, "Yes," and sat down beside me.

I was overjoyed to feel that sag as his weight made everything give. I sort of rolled toward him, but not too much.

I ran my fingers lazily up through the hairs on his forearm and felt him shiver. "Mervyn, do you like me?" I asked.

"Yes, Cousin," he said.

I didn't like the way he emphasized that. I took my fingers away from him and put a hand over my forehead, squirming as I did so, one hand dropping to a point just slightly below my navel.

"I like you, Mervyn. I've often wondered what it would be like to touch you."

He gasped. "But we're cousins," he insisted lamely.

"Oh, I know that. But I can't help the way I feel, the way I love to watch you, no matter what you're doing."

His head dropped because he was so full of guilt at wanting me.

"But we can't, Honey, we just can't."

I put my fingers on his arm again and that seemed to galvanize him like an electric shock.

"No one need ever know, Mervyn. Can I help it if I admire my big, wonderful cousin so much?" I opened my eyes and looked at him. From the way his swim trunks had become distorted, I had the feeling that I had affected him tremendously. I felt a curious itching, too, down below.

I slid my hand over his chest and he gritted his teeth. "I've wanted to touch you for a long time, Mervyn," I admitted. My fingers found the little dark nipples on his chest and caressed them. I passed my slender hands into the dark thickets of his armpits and his entire body trembled. "I don't know what to do, Mervyn. Show me what to do."

But when I tried to pull him toward me, he resisted.

I tried another tack. "You certainly have a lot of hair there," I said as I caressed his armpits with small, fleeting titillations. "I have some, too. Would you like to see?"

And before he could answer, I was slipping my sweater up over my head.

Of course, I never wore a brassiere, and when I was able to look at him again he was obviously struck speechless with admiration for the way my tits defied gravity and weighted themselves so beautifully, complete with rather enlarged pink areolae and nipples that easily stood up an inch high.

I continued to speak, though, as if I weren't even aware that he was watching me there.

I lifted my arms. "See," I said, "I have some hair there, too. Not as thick as yours, but then, I'm only a little girl, and I'm young." I pushed my fingers into it under my left arm, playing with it. "But I'm a natural blonde, Mervyn, and it's kind of fleecy and nice. Don't you think?"

He couldn't have thought anything, he was so speechless. I put my dainty hand to his chest and felt his heart pounding at about eighty miles a minute.

"What are you looking at?" I asked suddenly. "These?" I then picked up his hand and pressed it against one of my big titties. He responded by groaning and clenching and unclenching his hand over it, so that I could see it start to swell and my breathing became very irregular, my nipples hardening like stones. I was surprised to find them reacting so dramatically, but I was pleased, too. Because it all felt so good, and I felt the tops of my thighs moistening. I squirmed, because my smooth long legs just wouldn't lie still, and the crotch of my shorts were all wet.

He prodded the tips of my breasts and then lifted them like gourds. He sighed, open-mouthed, and I grabbed his head, slowly guiding his face forward and down. And then that delicious, wonderful mouth of his fastened on my first big balloon and covered it and tried to swallow it. My nipple was drawn deep into his throat almost to his tonsils.

I groaned and arched forward. I'd never felt anything like this before. Nobody had ever sucked my titties before. I'd tried to suck them myself, but hadn't been able to crane my neck far enough. So I'd been content with just rubbing my nipples with my wrists and fingertips. But now I was going wild. His tongue was so caressing, and his mouth so greedy. One of his hands climbed up my other side and found my other breast. Now he had both of them, and I liked that. He kept playing with them, making my nipples harden like rocks, and my head was swimming, and I liked it so much I would have died for it.

Then at long last his beautiful head came up for air and moved toward mine.

This was not like any kiss from any twelve-year-old boy. This was beautiful Mervyn, and he was a real man. I learned then what a kiss could be. His tongue was all over mine, feeling the roof of my mouth, my pearly-white teeth, and prodding down my throat. I liked that. I tried to imitate him with my mouth, using my tongue the way he did his, and making my lips very mobile so that they were all over his mouth in a sort of wet caress.

I ran my hands up the wonderful smooth columns of his legs and felt him shiver. Then, finally, my fingers reached up to where his bone was making a bulge in his swim trunks. He gasped as my fingers diddled with the tip of his bone.

We forced ourselves apart for just a moment. Mervyn was breathing terribly hard, and I liked that because I was panting like an animal, too. But I wanted to look at him. I pointed down to where his joint was prodding his trunks.

"Mervyn, may I see that? Please? I've always wanted to know what that looks like." And with that I reached out and touched his cock, and his eyes rolled skyward. My gentle young hand gripped his penis and affectionately squeezed it. The feel of it was beautiful, but now I had to see it, too.

I was surprised to find how deliciously hard his prick was, but a little afraid, too. I felt myself squirm with musky moisture. My crotch felt as if it were on fire and burning up all my cunt hair. Now I could really conceive of how nice it could be to have that inside and...

I feverishly ripped the zipper down on his trunks and fumbled with the restraining button on them. In my haste it came off in my fingers, and then I quickly pulled down his trunks.

"Oh!" So that was what it was! It was beautiful! So that was what could help me! That fierce, masculine bone. I loved it at first sight. Drawn as if by something outside of myself, I moved slowly toward it, desiring to place only the most gentle of kisses on that beautiful, powerful, dangerous rod.

But as my mouth touched his knob, he groaned and curled his fingers in my hair, pressing me in. My big breasts mashed against his kneecaps, and suddenly I found that instead of imparting just a gentle kiss, I was sliding my mouth right down the length of his prick, taking it all into my throat until it bumped my tonsils. Looking up, I could see him going through exquisite torture as I sucked, bobbing my head up and down, my mouth vacuuming and sliding along his blood-bloated cock as if my lips were made of rubber. He moaned ecstatically.

I couldn't help sucking it now. It was so beautiful, more beautiful than I had imagined. And I wanted to show him how much I loved him and adored that beautiful body of his. So I licked the powerful fleshy bone, and allowed him to ram it in my mouth, and slid my mouth up and down along it.

He moaned, gripping my golden hair as my head bobbed, and then the milk of his desire came rushing along his cockstem, and his gorgeous body jerked and shot the whole wad down my throat, a taste both salty and sweet at the same time. Savoring it, I almost had an orgasm myself. I licked off the head of his prick until every last drop was gone...

But my own needs were still unfulfilled.

We lay there for a while. I just ran my fingers through his shining brown hair and caressed his hard, dark shoulders.

Then at last he whispered something. "You're a witch," he said with a soft voice.

I laughed delicately, quite pleased. Then I said, "Would you like to see me with everything off, Mervyn? I'm very proud of myself, and I'd be happy if you were proud of me, too."

He gulped, his sweet dear face twisted in concentration. I could feel his heart beating heavily again as he gazed up at me, unable to say or do anything.

I didn't wait for him. I just undid my shorts and slid them down over my honey-colored legs, and he was eager to help me.

"My God," he murmured as he saw me. "You're beautiful, Honey! You're a natural blonde!" And with this he pushed his fingers into my warm bush, already dripping with desire.

I groaned and fell backward as his fingers cloyed into the wet heat of my slit, plying me, pushing his fingers in and out, tickling the sides of my engorged hole. His fingers were so moist and driving me crazy, and through the slits of my eyes I could see his cock was hard again. That was what I wanted. I reached for him.

"Mervyn," I pleaded in a voice that showed my torment all too plainly, "Mervyn, please, not just your fingers."

And, gulping and trembling from his head to his toes, he did what he could. His fingers disappeared, his body arced upward as my legs fell mindlessly open, and then his masterful rod was plunging into my bush, making my delicate hymen scatter to the four winds, sliding inside of me, our juices sluicing, spitting, a pang of fire splitting me so sweetly I thought I would die from it.

My legs wrapped around him in an agony of desire, and I began pumping along with him as he drove down into the sweet morsel of my virginal being. My hands clenched his muscular ass, ripping the flesh to shreds with my long fingernails each time my lust was slaked just a little. He rode and rode and I cried out as if I were being murdered.

But finally a flash of pain coursed through me that was just like the taste of lightning in a summer sky, and then we really began to make it. I loved him from the bottom of my soul for a pleasure like this, and my body was jerking convulsively in the throes of something more powerful than anything I had ever known. I had no control over it. His hands were on my young ass, clenching and unclenching it. I drew my legs up higher and finally threw them over his shoulder, while he drove in like a bull.

And as we reached the finale, a beautiful wash of pleasure and pain went over me that was the blazing of a thousand suns. I'd have given a rib to be able to repeat it right away.

Mervyn returned to the camp, but that night he returned to our cabin and slaked his thirst again in the molten fire between my legs.

Thus I learned what it was to be a woman. I learned how very nice it could be to have a man riding on top of you, and how that feeling was worth more than anything in the world.

I also began to appreciate how my beauty could drive a boy as beautiful as Mervyn just wild with desire. I thought if these good looks could do me some good when around men, why not use them?

I spent even more time than ever after that watching myself in the mirror, studying the graceful, voluptuous lines of my luscious young flesh.

I used to play with myself with my hands, and imagine that I was a man making love to myself. That was a game that was really nice. And, of course, Mervyn came over every night.

But then my mother returned to the cabin, and we had to cool it somewhat.

My mother's name is Josephine, and we don't look alike at all. She's dark-eyed with very glossy, long black hair that she often spends hours at night combing out, and very pale skin that never quite takes a suntan the way mine does.

But her flesh is probably more creamy than pale, and I suppose it had driven plenty of men wild over her in time. I know that my father was often dancing around her quite anxiously, but she put " him off quite a lot. He must have had the hots for her something terrific.

I wondered about that. You see, I don't seem to resemble my mother in the slightest, so that it is only with a bit of imagination that people can picture me as her daughter at all.

For one thing, she was quite slender, with small pomegranates for breasts, and I was well on my way to being built like- Well, anyway, we were different in that department. And we just looked different. Her face was an oval, while mine was a heart. Her eyes were black while mine were blue, and so on.

Our natures were also very different. I was kind of a fun person, but Mother seemed just a bit severe to people who didn't know her very well. And then, too, I never had many girl friends around me. Girls just didn't interest me very much. I much preferred to be around boys, and maybe other girls resented that a little.

But anyway, Mother had lots of girl friends, and she was always bringing them home-when Daddy was out, and up to the cabin during the summer.

She seemed to change girl friends quite a lot, too, and she always had me call them "auntie", even though they weren't related to us.

And Mother's friends dressed strange. One woman she brought home once was a big, mannish-looking sort, and she had huge breasts but wore tight Levi's, a brown work shirt, and a black motorcycle jacket with four stars on it, and white letters on the back that spelled out THE BABES.

That one had kind of a mean face, too, and whenever she looked my way I just kind of winced.

To give you an example of the way she annoyed me, I can tell you how she used to talk in front of me. She used to say to Mother, "Hey, that little baby of yours is really growing up, Joe. Look at the boobs she's getting." And Mother would tell her to shut up, and she would, but somehow I always felt as if her eyes were on me, and I felt uncomfortable around her. I don't know why I should have, I just did.

But that's just to give you an idea.

Other friends of Mother's would sometimes be walking around the house in black leather boots, or black, five-inch high heels with netted hose and black panties with black tabs, or black leather brassieres, even. They seemed to wear the strangest outfits when they were relaxing. And occasionally one of them would even walk around carrying a whip. I could never figure out the reason for that, unless maybe they were lion tamers off duty.

But, of course, one doesn't question one's own mother.

I didn't begin to get an inkling about what sort of a person my mother was until that summer at the lake.

It started one afternoon when she was drying the dishes. I had just come from rowing around the lake with some boy from down the road, and I felt so happy that I just threw my arms around Mother and just squealed, pressing my big, growing tits against her slender back as I did so.

With my slender young legs pressed against her like that, and the apex of my thighs rubbing against the bottom of her rear, it became all too clear right away that Mother was trembling.

"Mother, what's wrong?" I asked, genuinely concerned.

She turned on me with a haunted look in her eyes, that's the only way I can describe it. And then she hollered at me.

"Get away from me!" she screamed.

I was so taken aback that I didn't know what to do. "Mother?" I reached out for her and she shrunk back from me as if I were a snake.

"Get away from me!" she screamed again.

CHAPTER TWO

"But Mother," I insisted, pressing forward. "What's wrong? Have I done something to make you angry?" My eyes brimmed with tears.

For just that moment she looked so genuinely touched I really thought she was going to take me into those lovely arms of hers. But I was wrong. She started to move toward me, seemed to think better of it, and then just stood there, glaring.

Finally she said, "You shouldn't put your arms around your mother like that, darling. You're too big a girl for that now."

She looked quite shaken, but it was obvious that she was trying to keep her voice under control. I felt very hurt and I made it my business to look it. I stretched out, kind of, so that my big, growing chest kind of fell all over under the pink sweater I was wearing. I could see a lump rise in her throat, but I didn't know what to think about that. "I'm sorry," I said softly.

She seemed to be pulling herself together.

"That's all right," she said. "Now just go to your room, and we'll have a little talk later."

"All right," I agreed happily, and went to my room with a bouncing little walk.

It was approaching twilight, and since nothing more could be on the agenda for the evening than to watch a little television, have a snack, and curl up into bed with a magazine, I put on the pink negligee I had bought for warm summer nights and combed out my hair.

That day I had gotten some more tan, and I was really brown, so that little freckles had appeared at the topsides of my breasts. I didn't mind that, though. In fact, I thought it looked rather interesting.

I enjoyed watching my long blonde hair spin through the comb and brush. It was of such a nice flaxen consistency and weight, but it was thick, too. I rather admired it every bit as much as other people did.

And I liked the way my boobies burgeoned against the negligee, puffing it way out in front so that it fell like a veil over the rest of my superb body. The little bow at the top of its plunging neckline rested just about the middle of the slope of my boobs, but you could still see plenty of cleavage because they had gotten so big. In fact, because I had grown so much since the start of the summer when I had bought it, the hem was now rising above my luscious knees, so that plenty of creamy thigh flesh was readily visible from any angle. And when I was sitting, it rose up almost to my crotch.

But I didn't mind. In fact, I liked to watch myself, and as much of myself as possible.

I combed out my hair like that for a while, and then I did it up in a ponytail with a pink ribbon. Then I sort of stretched out on the bed and dozed for a while.

When I awoke, I found Mother staring at me, sitting in a chair across from the bed.

I rose up lazily and yawned, raising my arm so that the nightie rose, too, all the way up my thigh. "Hello, Mother," I said sweetly.

"Honey," she began, "I've been meaning to have a talk with you."

"About what, Mother?" I was all wide, blue-eyed innocence, you can bet. Anyway, I wanted to learn whatever there was for her to teach me.

She nervously lit a cigarette. She had changed to a white housecoat that was open at the neck, revealing that lovely pale white throat and just the hint of her lovely, small hard breasts. I liked to watch her like that, I don't know why.

She said, "I thought we should have a talk about the birds and the bees, Honey."

"What about them?" I kind of wondered what they had to do with human love and the reproduction experience, but I figured that Mother must know what she was talking about.

"Well, for one thing I have to talk to you about how babies are made!" She said this in a very nervous, loud voice, and then quickly looked around as if to see if someone were listening.

Someone was. Me. But I couldn't figure out what she was getting at.

She finally managed to pull herself together, and she stood up and brought the chair over to the bed. "Honey," she said, "has any boy ever touched you?"

"Who, me? Mother, how do you mean? Why should a boy want to touch me?"

She took my dainty hand in hers and I could see very nervous. "You know, Honey, you're only twelve. But you're growing very fast and someday you'll be a woman." She paused to let that sink in, which was not a bad idea.

"Gosh, just like you, Mom?"

"Well-" She looked around again, "-not quite like me." Almost of its own volition, her fingers seemed to glide up my smooth thigh and lie there. Her touch reminded me of how I felt when Mervyn touched me, and I felt myself sort of squirming inside. Something was kind of warming up inside of me, too.

She went on, "Already you've got the body of-"

"Oh, do you think I have a good body?"

She looked unable to speak. Finally I broke the ice with, "I'll show you my body." And I lifted the nightie up over my blonde head.

She gasped when she saw me. Mother hadn't come into my room for a long time. She must have been pretty surprised to see how those nice things on my chest had swelled, and the dark nubs on them had widened, and what nice glistening ringlets I had in my armpits now, how tawny my thighs were, how much wider my hips, and how fleecy was that tempting golden mound of mine.

I knew I had her enthralled and waited for her to speak. At long last she composed herself, and with eyes gleaming she reached out to fondle one of my big tits. Oh, I squirmed when she clenched me.

"And no boy has ever touched you here?" she hissed.

"No, Mom. Oooh, that feels nice-" She slapped me on the breast so that it shook from side to side, and that hurt. "Never mind!" she shouted. "That's not supposed to feel nice! You should never let a boy touch you there, do you understand?"

I understood all right. I nodded and looked hurt. Then she seemed to soften again. She reached forward and grabbed one of my flinty nubs again, and with her mouth open, began to twist it. "How does that feel, dear?" she asked. "Oooh... " I murmured.

She continued, "You see, when a boy touches you like that, that may send shivers through your entire body. And when he rubs it-" She began to rub my hardening nipples, "-then you'll like it, and it might drive you crazy for wanting something. That's how babies are made."

I looked at her through clenched eyes. "Gosh, is that all there is to it?" I breathed, hoping there was more.

She picked up both my big juicy titties in her hands, lifting them like gourds, gently rubbing my hardening pink lovebuds with her thumbs.

"You see, dear," she said, "when a boy plays with these nice big things on your chest, it will make you feel funny, see?"

"I'll say," I breathed huskily.

"How does that feel?"

"Fine," I groaned.

"And when he plays with them, or does this-" She leaned forward and ran her lips and tongue over my flinty nipples. Sheer ecstasy, "-that's all a natural part of being alive, and it shouldn't frighten you."

"I feel plenty alive now, Mom," I murmured, almost whistling through my teeth over the way I was beginning to feel. I grabbed her shoulders partly for support and partly to help her glide that maddening tongue of hers across my jouncy titties and nipples that were standing up like toy soldiers.

"Mmm," I murmured, feeling lax, swooning, feeling as if I were on a long boat ride that was traveling endlessly up into the sky and everywhere.

Then I discovered where her hand had been slowly creeping to-into the secret niche of every girl's desire-but I didn't care. In fact, I spread my legs just a little so that she would have plenty of room-But then she backed off from me and just stared fixedly down at the glowing hot apex of my sweating thighs.

But to my relief she put her hand on my cunt again, and just kind of manipulated it, her eyes feasting on my helpless blonde loveliness as I endured this slow torture.

"And no boy's ever touched you there?" she asked, slithering her fingers around my hair-fringed slit. It was all I could do to keep from squirming.

"Uh-uh," I said, trying to shake my throbbing head. My mother's fingers were causing sharp waves of pleasure to shoot through me like flashes of lightning every time she flicked my pleasure button.

Then I must have moaned, because Mother inserted her finger right through the slick moisture of my pussylips, making a circle with it. Then before I knew what was happening, she was sliding her finger in and out of my body.

"Goodness, you're getting all juicy and slick," she whispered as I clutched her shoulders and struggled to keep from sighing.

She kept looking down at my blonde bush and her sliding finger that was moving so unnervingly through my slick lips. "You're very beautiful," she said at last. "You must get the blonde from your father, but you wear it much more beautifully." She looked me in the eye and suddenly became all business again. "You see," she said, "when a boy touches you down here, you're going to feel quite funny."

I had gathered as much, but I didn't have the strength to say anything. I was dying, and she began plunging her finger in and out of my cunt all the faster. A deeply felt sob of bliss escaped from my trembling lips, and I shuddered all over.

"He'll rub you, sweetheart," she murmured consolingly, "until it will feel as if those beautiful legs of yours are going to melt. Take it from me."

By now I wanted to melt, but I was helpless. She had run her other hand up my palpitating leg, smoothing my well-turned calf and kneecap, caressing me underneath, on the rear of my thigh. I lifted my leg up to accommodate her finger. I was going crazy, and wanted that finger, anything, to soothe my tormented young flesh.

Suddenly she climbed up on the bed so that she could be next to me. She was wearing a musky sort of perfume I couldn't identify, but which swam around my head like a mist. Now she was kneading my breasts as a part of her demonstration.

"Yes, Mother," I stammered helplessly, enslaved by her groping, feverish hands.

And then she said, "And then, too, boys might try to kiss you like this." And with that her head bent and her pink tongue found mine and imparted a kiss so electric it made me shiver from head to toe.

I opened my mouth willingly and took in my mother's tongue. This was terribly sinful, but that only made it all the more intoxicating. I was hot like anything. I expected my pubic hair to catch fire any second.

I began sucking Mother's tongue, and she sucked mine. We clung together and writhed on the bed. I sobbed brokenly into Mother's vacuumlike mouth and tried to drive my tongue clear down her gurgling throat.

At last she broke away, her eyes wild. She said, panting, "That's how a boy will play your beautiful fresh mouth, dear." And she showed me again. Her mouth was all over mine, then hot down my face and under my throat in a place so sensitive and thrilling it made me clench her shoulders fiercely. She continued to mouth my flesh there and I was torn with desire.

She must have sensed my readiness, the way my breasts throbbed and swelled under her knowing ministrations, the way my flinty love darts peaked ,under her titillating caresses. And then her mouth traveled downward.

She was saying, "A boy will want to put his mouth on those big hard things of yours, you silly girl. That's why you've got to save them just for Mama." And she put her mouth on my nipples and -my legs began to shake uncontrollably, spasming with the knowing touch of her eager fingers.

I gurgled deep in my throat, eager for every burning sensation. Her fingers moved down, down, and so did her mouth. I found her housecoat open and slid my hand in to feel her nice hard breasts that had been so good to me. I slid my other hand into her long black hair, which had become unwound and fell around us in a tickling wave all over my sensitive, burning young flesh. My legs jerked when I felt her hot breath on the curls of my golden bush.

Suddenly Mother moved her head forward and with parted lips kissed my seething, oozing cunny dead center. I held my breath and felt faint. When I felt Mother's tongue slip into me, I let my breath out in a rapturous sigh. Did she know what her hot mouth and lapping tongue were doing to me? How wonderful! I couldn't bear it another second. I could hear myself whimpering, someplace far, far away, as she licked me. My snatch was pouring forth nectar like a river swollen by spring rains, and it was all over her nose and face.

I felt my orgasm thundering through me. I shut my eyes and turned down my toes, screaming something unintelligible, gripping her hair, forcing that educated tongue in against me. Her face was deep in the gleaming wet folds of my gash, her tongue working furiously on my burning red flesh. The rough surface of her tongue slithering within my oblong hole made me whimper and squirm. My sex felt as if it were going to explode in all directions.

"Mom!"

All I could hear were my own yells and the constant slurping and smacking of Mother in my hole. I writhed as she tongued and sucked. I was sweating all over, and gushing from my cunt in cupfuls. I drew up my legs till the soles of my feet were right next to her head, then flung my knees out to the sides. The cords connecting my inner thighs to my feverish body stood out taut and trembling. I held Mother's head so that her mouth was tight against my twitching pussy, and I rolled my hips in time with each long, swiping lick.

"Mom!"

"Yes, baby," I could hear her moan, her voice muffled in my muff. "Sweet baby! Come, baby! Come!"

My body began jerking about. It seemed like liquid fire was churning and bubbling through my spasming loins. I beat the mattress with my tiny fists. I flung back my head, then bore down on my orgasm with my feet and bucked my entire body several inches off the bed. I could hear my own screaming. A paean of rapture continued to explode from my lips as if it had been waiting centuries for just this moment of supreme ecstasy. And then there was a shaft of light, agony, pain, darkness, beauty, and joy that shot up through me as if it had been sent from heaven.

And I gasped, took a deep breath, and fell back on the bed in a cold sweat, my hands still gripped tightly to her.

I had never before felt such a terrific lassitude all over my body. I didn't want to move my legs, my arms, or anything. I just wanted to lie there and soak up the beauty of that wonderfully severe pleasure I had just experienced. It came as a complete surprise to me that a woman was capable of helping me as much as a man could. I didn't know what to make of this remarkable discovery. I was limp with joy.

When I was finally able to get hold of my senses, I found that Mother was nowhere in sight. I tiptoed to the door of my bedroom and found her at the telephone.

"Yeah, Dominique. I'd appreciate it if you could get right over. I've got everything up and I need kicks desperately. Do you promise, dear? No, don't bring the whip, although I'd love it. That little she-devil hears everything. Just bring over that wonderful hot body of yours. I need it desperately. Will you hurry? Thank you, dear. Bye." And then she hung up.

I hurried back to bed and hid under the covers, because I didn't want my wonderful mommy to catch me listening to her conversations.

Then I wondered what "kicks" was.

Was Mother going to have someone help her as much as she had helped me? I didn't know what to make of that. After all, she was a married woman.

I'd have been happy if she had shown me how. And I made up my mind that I would try to watch her get her kicks from whoever she had called so that I would know how to help her the next time she got so steamed up. After all, I just couldn't stand the idea that she was cheating on Daddy. That seemed awful.

So I made up my mind to try to look into her bedroom from outside her window.

I didn't get dressed, though, until I heard my new auntie arrive. Mother must have thought I was asleep, because she didn't bring Dominique to my room and introduce her the way she usually did.

Instead, they went right to Mother's bedroom, as if they were in an awful hurry. Correspondingly, I went to get dressed.

I put on the black leather boots Mother had given me for my birthday, my tight black Levi's that pinched me something terrible, and a black sweater. Then I bunched my hair up under a dark blue sailing cap I had around, and tiptoed out of my room.

I couldn't hear anything from Mother's bedroom, but I had the feeling that there would be plenty to see if she hadn't dropped the shade on her window.

I was right. As I rounded the corner of the cabin I could peek inside her window and catch the most fantastic scene any little girl ever witnessed in her own house.

The room was in a sort of twilight, because only one small lamp had been lit. Mom's housecoat had fallen open, revealing those luscious pear-shaped breasts of hers, and the other woman, a redhead with long wavy hair that caught exciting highlights from the lamp, was bent toward her. her mouth on Mother's coral nipple.

The redhead was slowly shucking her clothes off, but she kept her mouth there, and was it ever active! Mother clutched her and groaned as she worked on. The redhead never paused for an instant, and in a moment she was stark naked, their bodies blending in a kind of orgy of lust so that you wouldn't have been able to tell whose leg was which.

Maybe Mother's leg was thrown over the redhead's, and their mouths were locked tightly together, and there was a lot of motion over those bedsheets, with the redhead's hand slicing in and out of Mother's slurping gash, which seemed to cling to that hand like a jellyfish. And their hair was all over them, too.

I couldn't help it. Just looking at them made me get all excited, and I felt that I needed something, that I just had to make it again. I couldn't help it. My hand just naturally gravitated downward towards an- itching that was driving me crazy. I unzipped the Levi's, and my fingers found a kind of oozing softness that was all myself, so wet and cloying and sweet, and I couldn't help wanting to satisfy myself.

Meanwhile Mother and the redhead had reached some sort of peak and they leveled off and started loving each other again, but in a way that was completely new to me!

I watched in awe and amazement as the redhead's beautiful head slowly descended, kissing Mummy's tummy, trailing saliva over her navel, and finally reaching her dense, black, pubic triangle.

My fingers worked furiously at my aching cuntlips, pulling and pinching. My own sighs were ecstatic. Now it came back to me: What the redhead was doing, that was what Mama had done to me, the very same thing! In my delirium I hadn't fully comprehended what was going on.

Mommy's head was thrown back, her neck cords straining as she pushed on the woman's shoulders and cried out something unintelligible. The way the strange woman's mouth was working between Mother's sweat-soaked legs was horrible, but it was driving me crazy. She plied it one way, then another, with Mother jerking, sobbing, grabbing her red hair, pleading for mercy. Mother squirmed about as if she were being branded by red-hot irons. And then the woman did something so amazing I could scarcely believe it.

Twisting her body like a gymnast, her legs came up around Mummy and her red hair fell all over Mummy's tummy. I stared speechless as Mummy's pink tongue darted out towards the redhead's dripping red hole and began licking it. Mother's face was soon sopping with juice.

Suddenly I was overcome and began vomiting even as I skyrocketed through a really shattering climax. When I finally stopped sobbing and whimpering, I crawled back to the window, got up to the ledge and looked in again.

I must have missed a lot, because now Mother was on the redhead's thighs, those nice titties of hers just sort of dangling toward the floor, and the redhead was beating her bottom with a hairbrush, yelling things I couldn't quite make out, but which sounded like, "You will be good! You will be good!"

And Mommy was crying and shaking her legs furiously, her bottom all red, but at the same time there was a look of ecstasy on her face. I couldn't understand that. How on earth could one feel good about being beaten on one's bare bottom?

Oh, it seemed awful. I could see there was not going to be much more that could interest me at this party. Anyway, I wanted to get back to my room before I was found missing.

And, too, my itching was continuing, and I had the feeling that if I were going to jack off I could enjoy it a lot more in my own bed.

I made my way back to my room and lay down on the bed, just kind of squirming and my hands running all over my beautiful body. Then I began to play with myself again.

This had certainly been an exciting day. Slowly my hand worked to quell some of the excitement still shooting through me, and after a moment, I cried out.

CHAPTER THREE

And that's the story of how I was introduced into the wonders of my own body during my twelfth summer. After that, I let Mother come around and instruct me from time to time, and I pretended this was all a sort of lesson she was giving me because she was such a sweet mother, and she got her kicks from it, too. And bit by bit she fell more and more under the spell of my beautiful body. By the time I was fifteen, my magnificent boobs had expanded even more, and now they were huge, jouncy pendants that wobbled nicely under my sweaters when I walked, but which supported themselves in defiance of gravity equally as well. They had immense pink-and-coral areolae that seemed to swell out in every direction, and my nipples were so sensitive from Mother's handling they would spring up hard and over an inch tall on just the slightest touch.

I liked that.

I let a few boys touch them, of course, and Mervyn was always giving me money and presents if I could arrange to see him once in a while. But mostly I reserved them for Mom's hungry mouth. She still thought I was a virgin and very innocent, and had no idea of how conniving I was.

She was good for a lot more goodies than anyone else, too. She gave me money and whatever I wanted. And when she required a little pressure before she came around, I just withheld my goodies, and then she came crawling to me, licking my dainty feet if I insisted on it. I made her beg plenty to get back in my good graces if she ever denied me anything. After a while I had her running and fetching, and dominated her completely. And all the time she thought I still thought she was working all over my beautiful fair young body because she was "training" me.

What a laugh.

Dad was something else again.

Dad was about forty-five, and balding, and he had a paunch, and was a churchman. He was puritan as all get out, and never even smoked on Sundays, and he would have been surprised as hell to know what was going on in his own home.

We never gave any indication though. For one thing, Dad had plenty of money, and no one wanted to be cut out of anything. He had managed the Plainville bank for about a million years, and he had a finger in every pie. He'd have been a bad man to cross, and Mother knew it. So did I.

Every Sunday he used to drag us to church so that we could hear Pastor Stradlatter give everyone in the immediate vicinity hell because they hadn't chosen to worship God in the way that Pastor Stradlatter wanted them to. Between all that fire and brimstone he was lecturing us on how all pleasure was evil and sinful, and all joy wasteful of Man's energy. And how all pain and privation must be heavenly. Frankly, if all that was true, I didn't think I wanted to go to heaven very much. It didn't sound as if people had a good time up there. Anyway, I don't know how to play a harp and good heights make me dizzy.

But anyway, just hearing old Stradlatter speak placed a look on Dad's face of ineffable joy, as if he were hearing heavenly angels. I used to look over at him in our pew, which was right up front, because people with dough like Dad had always gotten to sit nearer to God, and there was a look of reverence and ecstasy on that bloated face of his that reminded me something of my own face when my body was being used.

The resemblance was frightening, and I rather hoped that I wouldn't go bald.

But anyway, all this is just to let you know what a strict home I came from. Before I started winding Mom around my little finger, she was a pretty severe customer, too. And Dad was never what you'd call a fun guy.

I don't think I had any really interesting new adventures until I was about sixteen. It's true I let some of the boys in school have a few favors, but not very much. Most of what I got came from Mom and Mervyn, who were pretty good at feeling around me so that it made my blood boil and my legs perspire. Mom knew how to lick me and grind her fingers into my slithery hole, and Mervyn used to bam his cock into me with his hairy balls slapping into the sweaty crack of my ass.

But when I was sixteen I started working at the Taylor Shoppe in town, ostensibly to make a little extra money-Dad was very proud to see I had a thirst for gold the way he did-but actually I just wanted to get out of the house a little and meet new people, widen my contacts. As a sixteen-year-old I was pretty well limited in the people I could meet. I mean, there wasn't very much excitement for me at church socials and that kind of thing. And I wanted to widen the circle of people who would admire my beautiful body.

After all, it would have been very unfair to keep all that loveliness to myself, wouldn't it? Being a narcissist, nothing could excite me more than someone admiring me as much as I admired me. That really turned me on.

So when I started to work at the Taylor Shoppe, I really kind of hoped that I'd be able to arrange for a slightly more intriguing social life for myself than what was now in progress. And, anyway, I like variety.

Taylor's was on Main Street and owned by Mr. Taylor, of course, an old guy of about thirty-nine with a wife and family. The store sold wearing apparel of every possible sort, and eventually everyone in Plainville had to buy something there. It was a shop you couldn't stay out of, if you wore clothes.

It handled men's clothes and anything a woman needed to wear in order to draw the male of the species to her lair.

I was put into the sweater department, which was kind of appropriate-and Taylor must have sensed it-because I have these nice big tits and I was a walking advertisement for every sweater in the store.

So there I was, every day after school, selling sweaters, and occasionally doubling in the skirt and blouse department, and I still didn't realize what was up, what an opportunity I had.

Of course old man Taylor had put me in that department just because of my looks, because a lot of the older women of the town liked to come in and see a nice young thing in the store, and it gave them a chance to touch me a little and to have me touch them when I smoothed a skirt down, or twisted a blouse, or fitted a sweater. I knew what turned these old dames on, and I made the most of it.

Of course, to the casual observer, it all looked very clean and harmless. You wouldn't have been able to tell I was touching these old dames in places that made them tingle, and that they were getting a charge out of brushing me in certain places. And we would never have admitted it even to each other. The only way it showed was in the way sales skyrocketed in-any department where I was around.

All very innocent, you see. And if anyone would have suggested anything, I'd have denied it and looked terribly shocked.

One trick of mine in selling blouses went something like this: I'd have a woman trying on a blouse, and she'd be back in the fitting rooms, where there's a mirror and everything, and I'd go in and say, "Mrs. Smith, you look lovely in that blouse, but here's a button open." And then I'd make like I was fixing her button and then sort of incidentally smooth the topsides of her big mother's breasts and watch them quiver and jiggle as Mrs. Smith took a deep breath.

My face never gave away anything, and I'm sure all of these women considered me quite innocent and felt quite guilty themselves for being of such a lewd turn of mind. But they couldn't help themselves. All they knew was that beautiful little blonde girl at Taylor's had very unshy hands and a way of moving that excited them. So they kept coming back for more and more stuff, and each time I'd give them the treatment. And were they crazy about it.

Well, right about this time I got to thinking about my salary.

See, I was selling about $1400 worth of goods for Mr. Taylor every week, but I was only getting $1.75 an hour, which was maybe forty bucks a week. And I got to thinking: Even if he gave me only ten percent commission I'd make a lot more dough than I was making now. And considering his markup, he could easily spare that.

I knew for a fact that some of his stuff was marked up as high as 120 percent, so why shouldn't I get a piece of that?

I started my program for a profit-sharing plan by shortchanging small accounts on the cash register.

For instance, if a customer gave me just the right change, I might forget to ring it up at all, just kind of "deposit" it in my pocket as if I had forgotten about it, or as if I intended to ring it up later, and make myself very busy with something else. If anyone noticed anything funny, I could just play surprised at my own forgetfulness.

Other times I'd make a sale and open the register with the little button that was in its back.

When you pushed this button, the register would open without anything being registered. I'd just drop the money in, make change, make a mental note of how much I was depositing, and then I'd be sure to remove the amount of the sale from the register later. It all worked smooth as silk. Before long I was pulling down a couple hundred bucks per week, and for a high-school kid that's all gravy.

Unfortunately-or maybe I should say fortunately-old man Taylor was not as dopey as he looked. One night toward closing, he called me into his upstairs office.

I sat down nervous as hell and crossed my legs so that my tight miniskirt crawled all the way up my creamy thighs. I was kind of new to this sort of thing, and I didn't know whether he was onto something or not, and if he was, whether I could get life imprisonment or what. But I knew that whatever happened, every normal man likes to see a little flash of thigh on a kid who's as well put together as I am.

So I let him look. What the hell, it didn't cost me extra. I sat up straight so that my big tits pointed out right at his eye and held my stomach in so that he could see what a. nice, small waist I had. I was wearing a tight yellow sweater that really grabbed, and just a tiny little belt. I was glad I had combed out my hair so that it hung long, blonde and wavy down my smooth back. I had it tied up in a pink ribbon.

So you can see, I was really the picture of tempting teen-age loveliness, and I intended to make the most of it.

Taylor didn't look very shook with me though. He cleared his throat with a "Ha-rumph," and looked down at some papers in front of him. He was a small guy who always wore brown suits. He had small, beady eyes behind thick glasses, and his hair was thinning considerably. Just a thin wisp of it was strung across the front of his head like piano wire. He was a disgusting little guy, but then I hadn't had the hots for some time, and I was kind of fed up with Mom and Mervyn. To tell the truth, I'd have fallen onto a robot if he were available, that's how ready I was.

I wondered how Taylor was going to do it. I could imagine him feeling for my pink panties, and fumbling with the tabs, caressing my creamy smooth inner thighs so that I'd squirm and beg him for it. Then I could imagine him seeing me when my panties were dragged off, and falling in love with that blonde temple of love of mine. That was the vault he'd want to drop his jewels into for safekeeping, and it was as ready as it'd ever been.

Where would he kiss me? I tried to imagine it. And the more I imagined, the more I squirmed.

I might kiss him a little, too, for my mouth was ripe and hungry for a few things I hadn't tasted for a while. You can believe that I'd show him a good time.

I'd drive him so crazy with wanting this great body of mine the rest of his hair would fall out from it.

But until we reached that point, I could see we had a bit of traveling to do, because I could see old Taylor was in a serious mood.

After what seemed like a million years, he smoothed back his head with the palm of his hand and spoke without looking at me.

"Honey, you've been stealing from your sales," he said, cool as you please.

"What of it?" I said.

This kind of surprised him, because he looked up with a kind of bewildered look on that soft face of his.

I made the most of his glance by standing up and stretching my big boobs at him. That really made him gulp and tremble a bit. I said, "I can't help it, Mr. Taylor. I'm just a child of circumstances. I like nice things, but my parents won't buy me anything. They have all that money, but they refuse to share it with their only offspring. They're very mean to me. In fact, my father beats me. Would you like to see where?"

And then, with that mouth of his still agape, I pulled my sweater up over my head, and, since I never wear a bra, my breasts bobbed all over the place.

It didn't take much to see I had him drooling. I pretended, though, to be turning around as if to show him marks on my back, but of course there weren't any. I said, "Gosh, I guess all the welts have healed."

And then I turned to face him again, my torso bare, my hips straining at the tight skirt, the waistband of my pink panties just barely showing. I could see that he was staring at my beautiful pink tits that held themselves up so beautifully in defiance of Isaac Newton.

I moved closer to him and put my hands on his shoulders. My titties were only inches away from his hot, feverish face. He looked as if he were going to burst a blood vessel looking at them.

"Mr. Taylor," I said as huskily as I knew how, "you don't think I deserve a beating, do you?"

And with that he couldn't take any more of it. He lunged for my breasts and his glasses fell off. Hungrily he snapped up one of my nipples whole into his greedy mouth, while his hand grabbed my other tit.

I just stood there and enjoyed it. Oh, the way his tongue and teeth and lips were grabbing at me just made me shudder. I was ready to go in seconds.

But he wanted to work them over indefinitely. I thought he'd never tire of playing with them. He must have been starved for things like mine at home. His old lady probably had small, saggy ones that looked like broken egg yolks. But mine were so big you could get a handful and still need a basket to carry the rest. And was I proud of them. The more he played with them, the prouder I got. He just worked them over till I felt weak and dizzy. My tits must have doubled in size as he mauled them. My areolae became huge as hamburgers, the tips standing up hard like little soldiers as his tongue cajoled them.

Boy, I thought he'd never get around to the main business. But at long last he began tugging at the zipper on my skirt and, before I knew it, it had slid down around my pretty legs, leaving me standing in panties, garters, hose and high heels.

There was a musky odor flying around us that was just heavenly. My head fell backward in delight, but I had the presence of mind to reach for his cock, which was something else.

Juice! He was hard as Gibraltar!

I was almost a little afraid of a prick like that. But at the same time I felt as if I needed it to keep me from floating right up to the ceiling.

He had such a gigantic prong for such a little man. All meat and very bony, with pulsating veins, standing out like a rod of iron above the swinging hairy sac of his nuts. It had taken scarcely a second for him to bust through his shorts and the zipper on his pants.

I caressed his gorgeous tool for just a second with my fingertips, then backed off and let him get up. With nervous hands he undid my tabs so that my stockings fell away. He caressed my bare thighs as I fingered his prick like it was a flute. Then he insinuated his fingers into the waistband of my panties and drew them down. In a moment his fingers were in my bush, prying through the golden folds in his lascivious search for my oozing pussy. I ripped at his trousers like .a cat cornered in an alley, hissing with delight, trying to get his prick entirely free.

Then, finally, I had everything untangled and his pants and shorts dropped down around his ankles. I groaned, begging him for that tremendous log.

Oh, it was immense, so much bigger than Mervyn's! I thirsted for it the moment I saw it, and I got him to prop me up against a corner of the desk. Then I lifted my leg over his side and he sent that log thundering over the falls toward me. I could feel it penetrating my lips, then pushing like lightning through the moistness of my pussy and into the rubbery, wet young depths until our pubic hair meshed. My teeth chattered as if it were the end of the world.

I clutched him desperately, whimpering like a silly back-fence kitten, wanting every painful inch of his punishing instrument. What workmanship for a little body!

He was pumping me, that huge prick sliding in and out of my engorged hole. I looked down and could see his greasy pole moving like an oil drill working toward a strike in the sands of Arabia. He was pumping me mercilessly.

"Harder!" I pleaded with him, and he wasn't prepared to let me down. My hands were around that pale ass of his, clutching him as if he were the last man on earth. And we continued to go to town until an explosion rocked Main Street for the both of us.

* * *

I spent the rest of the afternoon just kind of on my knees in front of him, sucking on his majestic bone. He had his hands in my hair, and he was holding my head so tight I wouldn't have been able to escape had I wanted to. But I didn't mind, because I'd become greedy for his musky penis, and just loved sucking on it. My tongue and lips worked overtime in order to draw out his fluid. I was just aching for him to really squirt a bunch of suds down my throat.

His fingers clenched and unclenched in my hair, and his legs kept pushing against my titties to stiffen them up by scratching them, and my nipples were still hard as stones.

Then he made it! All that fiery hot cum jerking off into my mouth, down my throat, and dribbling down my chin. I almost choked on his gunk, swallowing as fast as he could shudder it out. Then he pulled my head up and jerked a kiss right off my tender mouth that shook me right down to my very bones, sucking on my tongue and lapping up all of his own jizz. I collapsed, ecstatic, in a heap on the floor.

When I looked up again, he was pouring himself a stiff shot of whiskey from a beaker next to the desk. I stood up and began putting on my clothes. All the time I kept whimpering, "You dirty old man! You seduced me!" And then I'd cry a little.

I could see I was reaching him. He knew damn well I could get him in a lot of trouble if I chose to do so. He could get twenty years in prison as that went.

He offered me a drink. "Don't talk silly, Honey. Have a drink. Get your clothes on."

"What order do you want me to do all that in, huh?" I slipped my skirt up and did the buttons and zipper. I was saving my sweater for last, because I wanted him to have as long a look as possible at my big jouncy tits so that he could dream of them tonight when he was at home with that sagging old bag of a wife of his.

He liked looking at them, too. Even now.

He brought me a drink and I like to have gagged on it. I didn't even know what whiskey was supposed to be, let alone be able to drink the stuff.

As I drank he couldn't help passing his hands over my stuff. I just kind of moved against his hands and let him have his fun.

"You're having a lot of fun, aren't you?" I said slyly.

"You're beautiful!" He said this with the kind of unholy reverence that I appreciate a lot, and as a consequence I gave him a great big sloppy kiss right on that mouth of his, and pressed myself against him so that he wouldn't forget my cocksucking or our fucking. His knees shook like they were made of Jell-O.

After a while I held him away and just kind of looked at him with this earnest, little-girl look I'm so good at. "Mr. Taylor, darling," I said, "why'd you have to seduce me and get my ovaries all in an uproar? Now I'll have to have it all the time. That's just terrible, isn't it?"

He didn't say anything, he just gulped several times. So I figured it was time to kiss him off and let him think what I could do for him. If he wanted to call copper about the stealing, I'd just have to get him tossed behind bars. If not, we'd just go on like we were. I'd pick up a few trinkets and dough now and then-with his overhead he'd never miss it-and he could go on getting something from me once in a while. That seemed like a fair arrangement.

I didn't know it at the time, but I was already forming my alliance with a method of operation I was going to use for some time, a method of working on men that was going to do a lot for me.

* * *

I worked on Taylor for some time before his store started going into the red. The guy became a boozer, for one thing, and he couldn't stay away from the stuff. Eventually he disgusted me. Who needs weaklings like that?

I kept on filching cash, socking it away in a bank in another town so that no one at home would know. And bit by bit, I was getting kind of rich for a kid my age.

But I still felt that I had to have more. I didn't know what this "more" was supposed to be, what shape it should come in. All I knew was that I needed it like plants need the sun. I had to go beyond the hill and experience every kind of worldly sensation, both pleasure and pain, before I'd be able to let myself loose from this world.

So Taylor's store was going broke, but I didn't care, and even the money wasn't giving me much of a charge.

What really gave me a kick was the way I could make this guy grovel after a while, begging me for anything. If I just let him touch my fanny, it would set him off. He was so crazy for my hot little body he'd have died for me.

And I encouraged him, by fondling his cock, and kissing it, and finally sucking on it. And occasionally I let him between my glorious legs. Was it my fault he was a weak slave to any good-looking girl with a set of tits?

But I had reached a dead end. Ma, Mervyn, and now this jerk. Who else could I get something out of? I had looks and I had money, and Hollywood fascinated me. Who else could I go to who could help me out in that direction?

And that was when I got to thinking about Dad.

CHAPTER FOUR

Hollywood was a long way off from Plainville.

If I wanted to get there, I'd have to have a number of things. For one thing, I'd have to have my folks' permission, or the law could drag me back in a hurry.

Then I'd have to have plenty of money so I could make the proper splash and meet the right people. I'd read a lot of movie magazines and I knew how important that was.

At the moment I didn't have quite what I thought was enough money, but there was one person in my family who could be a big help on that score.

Good old Dad.

He had kind of a paunch, and he wasn't exactly the warmest father in the world, but I felt sure that he would want the best for his baby. After all, I was his pride and joy, wasn't I?

Still, I had to figure out how to get some money away from him clean, cash only.

He was a puritanical kind of guy, and not an easy man to approach. I knew the direct method wouldn't work at all. I'd have to be more subtle, especially seeing as how he considered sex to be the work of the devil, and pleasure inherently evil. I didn't think I could reach him with anything too direct.

I spent some time for a while just looking myself over in the mirror. I was a sweet-looking blonde young kid, and, frankly, I didn't see how any man could resist giving me anything I asked for. It was too bad that Dad was such a tough type. Still, I guessed he would be a kind of challenge.

I'd just be around him all the time. He'd be sitting in the living room every evening with his pipe and slippers, reading the day's stock-market reports from New York, and I'd just kind of drift through in a robe, maybe pick up a magazine to read, or a newspaper, or just kind of fuddle around with something. All the time my robe would kind of dip, so that maybe if he were even glancing out of the corner of his eye he could catch a glimpse of my big beautiful titties and the way they hung. Frankly, I didn't see how he could help wanting to catch a little view.

But Dad was a lot colder fish that I'd given him credit for. He'd just sit there night after night and not pay one iota's worth of attention to me at all.

That made me pretty mad, I can tell you. I vowed I'd get the dirty bugger for slighting my cute little body if it was the last thing I ever did.

Finally, one evening I managed to pretend to twist my ankle on the stairs. I was wearing this real heavy perfume that made me kind of feel like a tigress, and when Dad heard me, he came dutifully to me right away, just like a good pop should.

"Hurt yourself, baby?" he asked solicitously.

I nodded, and, just so I could show him where it hurt, I lifted up my leg so he could examine my ankle. All the while, my robe and my shortie nightgown were slipping all the way up. And, if he wanted to, he could see all the way up my thighs to where...

But he seemed to have the interest of a scientist in that ankle of mine. "Gosh, Honey, that doesn't look too good. Maybe you'd better get into bed."

"Gosh, Pop, that's a good idea." Yeah, I liked that idea real well. Especially since Mom was out with one of her playmates that night and probably wouldn't be home until late.

"Can you carry me, Pop?" He grunted a little as he hoisted me into those flabby arms of his, and I just kind of cuddled nearer, my perfume making a nice mist around our heads, and my smooth cheek against his rough one, our lips not too far apart, my hair in its ponytail just kind of swinging back and forth and tickling his hairy neck. With each step my big tits just kind of bobbed and weaved, and I knew he was getting a good feel of them, all right.

When we reached my bedroom, I just kind of held onto his neck with my arms when he dropped me down on the bed, so he almost damn near fell on top of me. His knee kind of collided with my crotch, and that made me squirm, and his tie fell all over the warm satiny hollow between my breasts, the feel of which was almost like a kiss to me, and I shuddered as it stung me.

He disengaged himself nervously . and said hastily, "That will do, I think, Hon, until your mother comes home."

I didn't want to let him go that easily. So I just kind of spread my legs on the bed and groaned. Not as if I were in mortal agony, but just a general sort of groan.

"Is something wrong, Hon?" he asked nervously.

I shook my blonde head. "No, it's just that-" He sat down on the edge of the bed, just kind of looking down at me. "What's bothering you, Honey?"

"I don't know," I murmured. "I guess it's just kind of spring fever I've got."

He didn't quite get the message. He got up again and started for the door. I cried out loud.

He came running back. "Honey, what's wrong?"

I began feeling my breasts and running my hand in on them, and pinching my nipples. "I don't know," I said. "Maybe I'd better get my clothes off, it's so warm."

So I kind of just let the robe fall away.

What a sight I was. These two big love globes straining at my nightgown, their areolae wide and dark with my warm, cloying needs, my tummy all pressed flat, the pretty bow in my hair holding up my ponytail and making me look even younger than I was, my rich, creamy thighs so adorable, so ready to hold onto, so kissable, and then my shapely calves and dainty feet. To say nothing of all that long blonde hair down to my waist. What man could have resisted me?

Just for effect, I reached up in back and pulled the bow on my hair ribbon. My hair fell fanning all around me, glowing against my hot young skin. I kind of fell back and spread my legs, moaning and pushing my fingers through my golden bush. Then I reached a hand into my bodice and lifted out one of my gigantic tits.

"Daddy," I whimpered, "I hurt here." Slowly I began rubbing the immense dark pink areola and nipple.

He gulped and sat down on the bed. He looked around. "Honey, you shouldn't-"

"Daddy," I whimpered. "Some big boy hurt me there."

He gulped again. He looked funny as hell with his big Adam's apple bobbing up and down. I looked at his trousers to see if I was having any effect on him. I thought I detected something, but I wasn't quite sure. Was that his cock sticking up in his pants, or merely a fold?

"A boy hurt you?" he asked. "How could a boy have hurt you there?" He pointed, but didn't touch.

I kind of nuzzled my breast with my lips, just kind of pushing the big thing up with my hand and pressing in the hardening nipple with my thumb.

I said, "He had his hand under my sweater, and that's how he did it. It feels awful. If you would massage it with a little oil, it might feel better."

He stood up. I couldn't quite yet make out what effect I was having on him and whether I was winning or losing at this particular point. He said, "Honey, don't you know that you should never allow a boy to touch you there?"

I shook my pretty blonde head and looked as innocent as I could. "I don't know anything, Daddy. Why shouldn't I let a boy touch me on these?" I pressed up my other enormous titty with my hand until it, too, was falling outside of the bodice of my nightie.

I could see he was visibly shaken. "Well, because that's how you make babies!"

"Really?" I breathed as innocently as I could, and I leaned forward so that my tits just kind of fell out of the bodice altogether and hung in front of him. I kept looking at his trousers for a sign.

"You mean I should never let a boy touch them?" I asked. "Daddy, maybe you should tell me all the things I should know about. Then maybe it wouldn't happen again."

He sat down nervously on the bed and I pressed closer. Now I could see from the folds in his trousers that I had him. He would shortly be my slave.

I picked up my breasts and just kind of pushed them around under my cheek.

"Gosh, they're big," he said after I had waited for him for about a century.

"They're a lot bigger than Mother's," I said. "She never wants to tell me anything about what I should do with them, though." I looked him square in the eye. "Do you think they're nice, Daddy?"

He gulped and trembled. "They're big," he said again. "Much bigger than Mother's, and those centers of yours are so dark, like blood, and I'll bet they can harden up, too. I haven't touched a pair like those in a coon's age."

"You can touch these, Daddy," I said.

He trembled and gasped.

"Sure," I pressed. "After all, if a girl can't let her own father touch her big things, who can she let? I mean, after all, isn't that right, Daddy?"

And then he couldn't take any more. He reached out for me as if he were in a kind of daze, and at the same time I reached for what I saw outlined by his trousers, and gasped when I got it. His prick was really bigger than I'd expected. Who'd have thought that he'd have...

Suddenly his mouth was on my titty, licking and sucking on my nipple a mile a minute! Oh, I liked it so much! I felt all sticky and warm, now. My legs thrashed and refused to lie still. I had him, but he sure had me, too!

I ran my fingers through his thinning hair. He sort of pressed me back on the bed, sucking away. He was really in earnest. He couldn't help himself now. He was going to be my slave shortly.

But for now he was making me damned uncomfortable. For one thing, he was all up over the bed, with his big shoes ripping everything apart, and he still had his trousers on, though I was reaching for him there and trying to get him.

At last I got the zipper down and reached in for his length of pipe. He was tremendous! His enormous cock swung out through his shorts, followed by the hairy sac of his balls, like some gigantic redwood being felled by a pair of fat loggers. The head of his prick was already oozing cum. I edged my finger over his glans hole, then licked the jism off my finger. He was scrumptious! I was scared and in love all at the same time.

Imagine, my own father with all that!

I ran my fingernails under his balls and scratched through the hair. They were like leather. He was still hungrily sucking on my breasts and fondling my beautiful young body all over. My legs were crawling up over his hands.

I whimpered as if I were frightened, but I kept feeling his hardness and drawing it toward me, all the while fighting those crazy striped banker's trousers of his, and that tie swinging back and forth, and that starched, rumpled white shirt falling out of his pants.

But I finally had him, with my hand on his cock, running up and down on it. And before he forgot what he was for, I lay back with my legs spread and guided him down towards my golden-curled love vault.

"That's it. Oooh, Daddy." His mouth fastened on mine and I sucked on his tongue and laved his mouth with my tongue. Then his hands were under my sweet young ass, lifting me toward his rapidly descending tool.

"Oooh, Daddy! Fuck me! Fuck me good!" My legs crawled up around his hips as if I were a monkey climbing a tree. He lunged, pulled out, then went in deeper. I screamed, clawed, thrashed, struggled, screaming again. He was splitting my insides with his gigantic iron rod. I felt raw like an open wound, but it was beautiful, beautiful!

"Oooh fuck! Oh Daddy, harder, please, harder!"

And then I must have groaned or something. I could feel these great waves striking the hot tropical shore of my being, lapping my cunt until it expired in a flash of light. I watched the spasm of pain shake him, and then there was a delicious kind of greatness surging through my warm young body.

We lay in bed for a long while. He didn't seem capable of moving a muscle. As for me, I was uncomfortable as hell with his big body all dressed like that, and those clothes in the way of everything. You'd think the least he could have done was to take off his shoes.

"Are you happy, Daddy?" I whispered, stroking the hairy nipples on his chest, running my fingers through the deep mat of hair that stretched across his top.

He nodded and looked very thoughtful. I had the feeling he was my prisoner now, because he was aroused again. His penis was standing up straight. I ran my fingers along it and licked his ear. Any man who comes back that fast must really have it for me, I figure. Slowly I bent my head and started licking his nipples, my long blonde hair falling across his shoulder, my hand caressing his cock and balls.

My mouth and hair slowly trailed downward. I left a trail of saliva and licked his navel, then gripped his meaty prick and gave it a teasing little kiss and just the hint of a lick.

He groaned and his head fell back, his strong hands pushing my head down.

It was musky and salty all at once, and I loved it. Licking and sucking his fleshy, muscular cock was the nearest thing to heaven for a nice girl like me.

I pushed my fingers under his rump and felt around for his asshole. Then I inserted one of my fingers. Did he jump! Meanwhile I just kept sucking him off, my eyes closed, hair falling across his crotch, my finger masturbating his asshole. He clutched my hair and sort of lifted off the bed, groaning, and then his spunk shot along his tube like firewater.

Unfortunately I wasn't to be allowed to enjoy this drink. For just then the big downstairs door opened and we heard Mother's high heels trotting across the foyer.

The activity in that little room of mine would have startled a corpse. Daddy leaped out of bed directly into one of the posts of my four-poster, his suspenders trailing behind him. He looked like he had banged his nose something terrible. As for me, I jumped up and ran around the room, not quite knowing what to do, with all of Daddy's jizz dripping from my mouth down onto my titties and flying all over. Finally I decided I might just as well. get back into bed. Daddy ran out of the room as if all the hounds of hell were in back of him.

A little while later, I heard them talking on the stairs. I didn't know what it was about, but I didn't care much, either. Now I had the both of them in my clutches and I would be able to do what I liked with them in a matter of time. I turned over and stretched lazily.

Just imagine those two fighting over me! It was a thought that made my hot young body squirm all over. Nothing would have given me greater pleasure.

* * *

After that night, I gave both of them just enough to want more. And I wheedled them about this Hollywood thing.

"Don't you think I have beautiful titties, Daddy?" I'd say, looking at myself in the tall mirror in my bedroom, and pushing my breasts up with my hands.

He'd nod, looking at me kind of anxiously from the bed, probably smoking a cigarette.

"Don't you think I'd make a good movie star? I mean, after all, it isn't very fair to keep these big things all to myself, is it? When the world could enjoy looking at them so? Don't you think?"

"Don't talk foolish," he said sharply, not daring to be cross with me, and then I'd prance over to the bed, climb up, and just kind of lean over him so that he'd take one of my big, dangling beauties into his mouth.

Then, as he went to town on it, I'd keep after him. "If I could go out there and get established, maybe you'd come out in a little while, too."

"I couldn't leave the bank," he'd mumble.

And then I'd jerk my tit out of his mouth so that he'd lean forward, struggle after it. But I held my titty teasingly away from him.

"No, you can't have it until you agree to let me visit Hollywood for a little while!"

And he'd grope desperately for me, like a guy in a dream. "Anything... anything... " he said.

Mom was more of a problem. I had her wrapped around my little finger, too, but she was a pretty jealous type, and she didn't want me out of her house for a minute.

"No," she would say, "I will not permit it!" And she'd shake her head vigorously for emphasis.

I kept after her as long as I could, and then I went and cried to Dad about her. "Mommy won't let me go," I said, weeping to beat the band.

He seemed somewhat relieved by her resistance, I was sorry to note. "Well, your mother knows-" I bawled all the louder. "I'm going to tell her about what you've been doing to me! Seducing a poor innocent child, you depraved old man... " I can tell you, that brought him around in a hurry. If I had tried that on Mom, she might have gotten sore. Dad had a lot more to lose. Because Mom would be happy to get grounds for a divorce, he could go to jail, lose all his dough, and a lot of other bad things could happen. Mom had a lot less to lose, if you see what I mean.

So I kept working on him and telling him how mean Ma was to me, and how she would always stand in the way of our happiness. He had never loved her anyway, so what was the diff? There was only one way we could work around her, and she had suggested that herself one night when, in response to my suggestion that she finance my trip to Hollywood, she hollered, "Over my dead body... " Well, that wasn't such a bad idea. I mean, she was getting to be pretty nasty to me already, and I didn't think that was very nice.

So I started hanging out around the Plainville Drug Store and getting to know the clerk there, and getting to know something about sleeping potions, which was something that Mom doted on to an unusual degree.

After giving the druggist's clerk something in return, I got just the stuff I needed.

Every night before going to bed, Mom's ritual was the same. She would drop some sleeping grains into a glass of seltzer and let it sit for a while while she went into the washroom to take a shower.

Then, when she'd come out, she'd down that creepy stuff at a gulp.

It was easy enough to just slip into her room one evening, put the lights down low, and drop in just a little something extra, something that would make her sleepier and dizzier than usual.

And it did, all right. She must have slept straight through for about thirteen hours, and when she woke up she looked like something that the cat had dragged in from out of the alley. She had crow's feet under her eyes, and her face had dark splotches all over it.

I'd just come in from school for lunch, and I went right up with a glass of milk for her, into which I also dumped some stuff on the way up. She always liked a glass of milk when she woke up, and as soon as I got into the room I went to her with it.

"How do you feel, Mom?"

"What're you doing home from school this morning?" she asked groggily, in response to which I just kind of leaned over and held her head as I made her drink the milk.

"Gee, Mom. It's lunchtime already. You sure did sleep last night."

And I made her drink it down. In another few minutes she just kind of clutched my sleeve and popped off to dreamland again. I knew I had her now. My one obstacle to a great career, and she'd be out of the road in no time at all.

When I came home from school again, about three, I went to look in on her.

Sleeping like a baby.

That's when the next part of my program began to go into operation. I woke her up.

She looked like hell, and she just kind of held onto my arms, real weak-like.

"Gosh, what's wrong, Mom?" I asked, and I just kind of slapped her face around a few times to be sure she was really weak. I intended to keep her that way.

When I saw that she'd really had it, I was ready to operate. I went to her sewing kit for the knitting needles.

These needles have kind of hooks on the end, I don't know what you call them exactly. I'm not exactly a little homemaker, you know.

But anyway, I proceeded to lift Mom's nightgown until she was bare right up to her cute little navel.

Then I started playing with the knitting hook in the turgid brown flesh of her quiescent pussylips.

"Ah!" she cried out sharply, bolting upright and grabbing my shoulders.

I ducked the hook under the covers and tried to calm her. "Gosh, what's wrong, Mom?"

"Something... stuck me... down there. Oh, that hurt. It was like fire."

"You must be dreamin', Mom. Go on back to sleep." And then I kind of smoothed her forehead and she was silent again. Then I went to the washroom and got some water and towels. She was sweating across her forehead pretty badly. I kind of wiped her off for a little bit. I wouldn't want her to look too bad when Dad got home.

But then I went onto her a little more, too. I gave her the hook elsewhere and she screamed out loud, bolted upright, and fell back into sleep again. Her armpits were really sensitive. I decided to do some more. I raised her arm so that her armpit was clear. Then I gave it to her again.

You should have heard her shriek! Just like a banshee, right on schedule. I was beginning to enjoy this overmuch, and I could feel kind of a dull itching down below. When I pressed my fingers up into my cunt, I found I was dripping. This pain kick was really terrific. I'd never dreamed that seeing somebody else in real pain could be so exciting.

So I poked her some more, and ran my fingers into my steaming puss, going off like crazy. I stuck her in the cunt, in the ears, deep in the navel, and in her armpits, and in other spots around, here and there, and she'd scream and wake up and I'd just give her a cold towel over her forehead and keep masturbating.

"Gosh, Mom, I think you're having a nightmare," I'd tell her, and each time, with all those drugs in her, she'd pop off to sleep again.

This was really thrilling. I masturbated like crazy, my fingers full of juice, my head thrown back, all blonde hair flying around, my titties wobbling, my breath coming in hoarse pants.

And then I blew off. She screamed and I just kind of floated to the moon on waves of ecstasy. It was almost as if I was sticking myself, it was so thrilling.

"Oh Mom! I'm coming!"

I gritted my teeth. Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful.

But best of all was still to come.

CHAPTER FIVE

I pushed up her nightgown again until it was well over her narrow, pearlike breasts. Then I pinched her nipples between thumb and forefingers. She winced a few times, but she was mostly inert. I put my mouth to a nipple and began to bite on it. I could feel her breathing become more rapid and erratic.

Then I did what seemed like the natural thing to do. I tiptoed around looking for a straight pin, and I finally came up with one. Then I returned to Mom. I primed up one nipple until it was good and hard, and then I picked up the straight pin and...

She screamed out in terror and clutched me in a cold sweat. "Gosh, Mom," I said, "what a nightmare you're having! I'd better call a doctor!"

I didn't, of course. Instead I just kept prodding her in sensitive places while she screamed, and each time she woke I'd make her drink a little more sleeping potion. By the time Dad came home, she was a real mess.

He was really aghast to see her like that. There were no marks, you understand, but there was kind of a deathlike pallor to her face, and she looked like death warmed over and ready for hell. I was pleased as punch.

"What's happened to your mother?" he asked lamely as he looked down at her wasting body. As if he gave a damn.

"She's been having nightmares," I said sweetly, and I put my arm around his waist, nudging my tits against his chest, too.

He didn't like that too well with Mother in the same room, but I reassured him, "That's okay, she's sleeping like a log, darling."

"Shouldn't we call a doctor?" he asked me weakly. I had begun to rotate my hand in a circle on his crotch.

"Oh, sweetheart, I don't think so. She's probably just tired." And with that I really grabbed him, and reached up for his neck to pull his mouth down to mine.

We met in a sucking, grasping kiss, our tongues all over our two mouths, and his hands came up to fondle my breasts, which were already trembling with anxiety. We'd never made love around Mom before, and that excited me better than anything. Ever so slowly, then, I pulled him down to the floor.

"Honey," he protested, "we can't."

I said something about what could be done with my mother, and he didn't need much coaxing after that. He pulled off my sneakers and rolled up my skirt.

"Kiss my feet," I insisted. "Honey," he groaned. "Kiss my feet, slave!"

And with that he utterly humbled himself, mouthing and tonguing my feet as if they were the only pair left in the world.

"Pull off my panties!" I ordered.

And he reached up and ripped down my panties, looking reverently up at my golden vault, his mouth dropping, saliva dripping from his lips. He was actually drooling for me.

"Honey, you're beautiful!" And with that he lunged forward, his lips and tongue attacking with concentrated force the most achingly sensitive core of my beautiful being. I strained forward, my hands in his hair, as he licked my cunt and chewed on it.

"That's it! Eat me!"

I cried out in agony, wished him death for this beauty and delightful pain he was giving me, and then two thousand tons of TNT came thundering down the gorge and rocked me as if it had been fired all the way from Mars toward my delicious, quivering, squirming, dripping young cunt.

"Daddy!" I screamed, gripping his ears as he chewed me.

It was a long time before I came back from that exquisite orgasm. I looked up at his drooling face, with all of my juice dripping from his chin and around his mouth. "Mommy was mean to me," I said. "We're going to keep her here until she consents to do as we say." I grabbed him and pulled him down on top of me, sticking my tongue in his ear and washing it out. He shivered with desire.

"Isn't that right, Daddy?"

He nodded. I smiled. Now for the finale.

I whispered into his hairy old ear, "If you really mean that, darling, you can fuck my bottom."

This galvanized him. He jumped up and began tearing at his clothes, his face wild and on fire. I leisurely removed my sweater, swinging my huge titties around. Then I got rid of the rest of my clothing. I still had a picture on my retina of him eating me under my skirt like a man in a darkroom.

I got up onto the bed on all fours, swinging my titties around so that they fell on Mama's open mouth. Even in her delirium, she knew enough to start sucking.

"Get some juice from my pussy," I called over my shoulder. I could hear him panting as he set about his work. His fingers wiped the dripping hair of my cunny, and then I could feel his trembling hands parting the walls of my ass. That log of his swung up into my crack, then thought better of it, and I could feel his fingers greasing my asshole with my own pussy juice. Very nice. I liked his finger.

Then the log came again, that immense knob of his, forcing its way into my anus. The pressure was terrible and wonderful at the same time. And then, suddenly, every last inch of thrilling hot meat was sliding into my asshole.

It took my breath away! Like being impaled on a stake! I was a mere puppet existing only for the purpose of serving that massive tool. It thundered in and out of me, and I must have fainted from joy. Every stroke was paradise. When it reached the top it bumped a gland that I hadn't even known I had. My gunk was flowing faster than ever. Ecstasy! My wild blonde hair fell all around. My juice dripped onto Mama's tummy while she ate my breasts. Agony!

My neck muscles strained. Every iota of my nervous system tingled and flew. A fierce pleasure raced along through my asshole, knocking down every control in its path. My titties, my ass, my cunt, my eyes, even my hair, seemed to be full of pain and ecstasy all rolled up together.

I screamed and shrieked and whinnied like a horse. My climax bathed me with barrels of perspiration, and then I must have fainted.

I threw cold water into her face at about eleven p.m.

"Huh... what?" She rose up and tried to clear her eyes. "What's happening?" she said.

"Mommy," I said, "will you let me go to Hollywood, let Daddy give me the money for it?"

She screamed insults and I had to push her down on the bed. She was weak as a kitten. I forced some more sleeping potion down her throat.

As she snored away, I very slowly tied her ankles and wrists to the bedposts with good strong rope. Then I lit a cigarette.

Our house was slightly out in the country in back of town, and it's a good thing, too. Because Mommy's screams would have wakened the dead.

Luckily, Dad was a heavy sleeper, too. Because I had Mother's legs spread wide with that tempting black fleecy snatch of hers staring me in the face, and somehow the burning cigarette got a little too close to her cuntlips.

She screamed and screamed, and occasionally I had to hit her to make her shut up. Her armpits were terribly sensitive, and her navel, too, but her cunt was the most sensitive of all. Finally I had to stuff a handkerchief into her mouth to keep her from biting her lips to shreds in her agony.

And, of course, I kept waking her up and feeding her sleeping potion at the same time. The human body needs sleep, and hers needed it more than most.

I didn't even let her up to go to the washroom, and the stink was terrific. She was filthy as a pig. Really disgusting for a decent mother like her.

Her eyes kind of sunk into deep hollows, and because she wasn't getting any food, either, she kind of shrunk up. I began to stick toothpicks under her fingernails and bang them in with a hammer to see if I could get any new effects. Good new sounds that way.

I finally left her alone, untied her, took out all my equipment, and went back to my own room to get a little rest for the night.

Dad woke me up early though. He was standing over me and he looked awful, like all panic-stricken.

"Your mother looks just awful," he said. "We've got to call a doctor!"

"She'll be okay," I said. And then I reached up and twined my arms around his neck, so he could smell my fresh, young blonde hair and feel my big boobs with his hot hands.

"Are you sure?" he whispered.

"I'll stay home today to feed her and take care of her," I assured him.

And then we both got up and went downstairs. I fixed eggs and bacon for Mom, with toast and jelly, too, and plenty of butter. Then I took it upstairs.

As soon as I got upstairs, I flushed it all down the toilet.

When Dad came up to look at her, I told him, "She ate like an angel, Pop. And she told me she'd only sleep for a little while. So she'll be okay now. I'll stay home and look after her."

He looked doubtful, but I finally convinced him that it was the best thing to do. Then he left.

And now I was free to practice again. Nothing new, mind you. Just the reliable old standards: burning cigarettes, toothpicks in her ear, knitting needles and hooks in all the wrong places, and all the while her tied down to the bed and gagged up good. I got so excited at one point when her eyes opened that I fell back on top of her and jacked off like crazy, gushing all over her side and down the bed. She was really turning me on.

In a way, I was sorry I'd have to lose her.

Dad brought the doctor home that evening. Luckily every sign of anything wrong had been stowed away.

The doc said she was a very curious case. "Looks like she's in a coma," he said, peering at her eyeballs with a flashlight. Luckily I had cleaned up her bed and put a new sheet under her, too.

He finally prescribed a diet for her and plenty of rest. He even gave me some more sleeping tablets, which seemed kind of funny. What I really didn't like, though, was his suggestion that she might have to be hospitalized. I didn't like that one bit, and it meant I had to work fast.

I didn't take long, though. After a few days of me tossing her food down the toilet, and bed sores from not changing position enough, and a few torture sessions, and waking her up every time she popped off to dreamland, Mom was just not getting proper rest. Before we knew it, Mom had just kind of lost her marbles.

Of course I took a chance on letting her recover, but when she did, she was a raving lunatic. She got headaches and tried to attack things and people.

Finally, we just had to put her away.

Poor Mom.

* * *

I remember the day we finally had her locked up at the Bennington Asylum. Dad and I came home and opened a bottle of cognac. I don't think either of us had ever felt better. With Mother out of the way, there was no limit to what we could do. We fucked and sucked all day and all night long.

We made love on the carpet in the living room, and after that on top of the piano, and finally on the roof until we heard the drone of a helicopter nearby.

Then we made it inside and took a couple of showers and used a couple of towels as we went, laughing all the time. When we finally got calmed down, I explained to Daddy how it would be.

I was on my knees leaning over him when I told him, my tits falling into his face and those clutching hands, my nipples a ripe, widened coral eager to know his mouth and tongue, my long blonde hair falling tantalizingly all over his excited flesh.

I shook my finger at him as I sat down on his prick, feeling it sluice up towards my uterus. He groaned and I fluttered, but I still lectured him. "Now your good little girl will go to Hollywood, and you'll get me some money, and we can get a home in Bel Air or someplace swanky, and you can join me there." And after each statement, I started jerking myself up and down on him. "Isn't that right, Daddy?" I prodded mercilessly.

"Yes... yes... " he groaned, unable to think for himself or do anything other than my bidding. And I was pleased as punch. I shook up and down on him, until finally we reached it together, and I could feel his hot semen squirting all over my insides.

After that he insisted that I get down on the floor for some more ass fucking. Being the sweet young thing I am, I had to obey Daddy, and suddenly I was down on my hands and knees, my big boobs with their extended nipples brushing the carpet.

But it was really great with his warm chest on my silky hair and creamy back, his hands gripping my dangling breasts, his body giving me everything he had in him. And it was then that I first began to wonder if it was possible for a man to get a heart attack during a session like this, with that huge log of his thrusting in and out of my asshole.

I gurgled from deep in my throat as we struck the ceiling of pleasure, and his body shuddered wildly without control as his scalding hot sperm shattered into my bowels.

We spent all that day just goofing off like that, and by nightfall we were really pooped. Mom's absence had really been a potent aphrodisiac. I don't think it occurred to me until much later that there were certain things about her I was definitely going to miss, like the marvelous way she used to lap my tender young cunt.

I woke up in the middle of the night and combed out my hair in front of the mirror on my bureau.

In another three months or so, I'd be seventeen, so there was no time to waste if the world was to get to see these beautiful big things on my chest, and dig the beautiful fluffy blonde thicket between my legs. All that was heaven and hell about me belonged to the world, too, I thought. Daddy shouldn't be selfish. And all that was Daddy's should eventually belong to me.

* * *

The next day I began preparing to leave. I was sixteen, so I could drop out of school if I felt like it. Anyway, summer was right around the corner, so no one would miss me for very long.

Dad was going to say that I was so broken up about Mother that he had sent me to live with an aunt in California. And that would be our story for what it was worth.

It didn't take too long to shape up my duds. Good old Daddy gave me all the money to get whatever new stuff I needed, and enough to get along and get some new stuff in Hollywood. All in all, things were just going swell.

I was sorry to hear that Mr. Taylor committed suicide shortly after I cut him off, but after all, that's the breaks. He was a weak jerk.

So I was ready to go. Good-bye Plainville, hello world.

Dad was pretty broken up about my going, so I had to give him a few good jolts before I left. Nobody else seemed much concerned though. When I said good-bye to Reverend Stradlatter on the final Sunday, he just told me to be a good girl and to walk in the way of the Lord. But I doubted the Lord ever walked the way I did.

I have to admit Mervyn was pretty broken up, though. He brought me some presents and gave me some money, and I helped him to make it the way he liked it best, and he kept trying to talk me into staying. But I needed to stick around him like I needed another hole in my cranium. He was going with some college gal who was Miss Clean: beautiful and lovely, blonde, clean-cut and All-American, tennis champion and all that. But apparently she was cold as December and didn't dig doing things in the great ways available. He'd probably marry that Miss Nothing because she was so All-American, but he was such a normal male that he couldn't help digging me at the same time, wanting to grab my great little body and fool with it till he could hear bells go off in his head.

But who needed him? I was on my way. I kissed him off, but kept the trinkets.

I was on my way.

The train I grabbed outside Philadelphia was kind of left over from the War Between the States so far as its outside was concerned, with a cowcatcher on the front, and an engineer wearing a tall striped hat while his assistant shoveled coal and wood into the two-horsepower burners. But I didn't care. I clambered aboard, holding sweet Daddy's guiding hand.

It was a very tearful parting between us. Daddy cried, and I cried, and finally the little train just chugged away toward the horizon, the way they do in the movies.

What a relief. I went back to my compartment and started doing my nails.

It wasn't long before being cooped up in that compartment, watching the cows and chickens and horses cavorting in the countryside, began to generate an acute case of claustrophobia. So I put on my tightest toreador pants, high black heels, a gaping tight-blue sweater, and dark glasses. I figured if I'm going to look Hollywood, I might as well start immediately, if not sooner, right?

Then I started for the bar.

I wasn't too familiar with bars. All I knew was that if you were a woman, you could have a lot of fun in them.

I'd never had the nerve to walk into any of the saloons in Plainville, partly because everybody knew I was under age, and partly because most of them were so old their spittoons had dissolved.

But now I was free, white, and on the road, and I planned to make the best of it.

I hunted up the bar and took a seat on a stool, expecting low whistles from all quarters.

All I got was a bunch of double-ugly stares.

I looked around. All the men were in gray suits and black ties. They looked like refugees from the morticians' convention.

"Who are all these guys?" I asked the bartender, leaning forward just a little so he could get a glimpse of my beauties down my sweater.

"Utilities executives," he said blandly. "Big convention in Chicago." I nodded. "Oh."

"You look like you've got plenty of utility yourself," he said.

"That's a possibility," I admitted. "How about a gin sling while I'm not being utilized?"

"Okay." He was glad to serve me up one and didn't ask for any identification. I was so grateful that I tickled his palm with my index finger, and that seemed to turn him on. "What's your seat number?" he asked.

"Compartment X-9," I told him, and I sipped my drink without putting any money on the bar. This guy was kind of cute, and a welcome change from what I was used to. I was looking forward to what he could show me.

When I looked back at the utility boys, they turned away from me. I guess I didn't exactly look like the kind of girl you'd bring home to mother. After a little while I said to hell with them and returned to my compartment alone to manicure my nails.

But I wasn't alone long. Before long there was a knock at the door.

"Come in," I said, not caring a damn who it might be at this hour of my confinement.

I was pretty pleased to see that it was the cute bartender, and I stood up right, my nice things kind of joggling up under my sweater. But then I saw that he had someone with him.

"Hi," I said, plenty curious.

"Uh, hello," the bartender said awkwardly. He looked down at the other man, who was kind of a rough-looking guy with a dark, swarthy complexion.

They both came in and shut the door behind them. I backed away involuntarily.

"What is this, a raid?" I asked them.

They both smiled and looked at each other. The dark man started to say something, but the young bartender interrupted him. "I just wanted to introduce my friend here," he said. "Mr. DeSalvio, this is-" He looked at me with a meaningful pause.

"Honey Pie," I supplied agreeably enough, but I still wondered what was cooking.

"Pleased to meetcha, Miss Pie. May we sit down?" The dago held out his hand and I kind of shook it, then he sat down. The young guy kept standing.

"I've been telling Mr. DeSalvio what a nice-looking trick you are, Honey, and how he ought to meet you."

They looked at me pretty closely to see what kind of a reaction I was going to have to that.

"Yeah?" I said. I wasn't committing myself to anything. What were they after, anyway?"

"Mr. DeSalvio just wanted to have a chance to talk to you," the young guy said, watching me closely.

I still wasn't getting the message. "Yeah?" I said, wanting a cigarette. "Anybody got a cigarette while I'm waiting for you two guys to get to the point?" I asked.

That kind of surprised them, but they were quick about getting me a cigarette and a light. Then the young bartender finally put it to me.

"Miss Pie," he said to me in a kind of calculating way, "what we want to know is are you a virgin?"

CHAPTER SIX

"Ami what?"

Now they both really looked nervous, throwing glances at the door. "Now, don't get excited, Miss Pie," said the young guy. "It's just that, well, Mr. DeSalvio thinks that you're an attractive young lady, and he wondered if, well, that is... " The guy was at a loss for words, and I can tell you, I was pretty speechless myself.

DeSalvio broke in with, "That is, I just wondered if ya'd care ta be my guest at dinner, Miss Pie."

"Sure, why not?" I looked at the young bartender. "Say, shouldn't you be getting back to your stand? The whiskey might be gettin' cold."

He nodded nervously at both of us and backed out.

So me and the dago were alone. I had a vague feeling that I knew what the pitch was, but I wanted him to come right out with it.

I sat back in my chair and watched the countryside speed by. So this was America. It didn't look so much different from Plainville.

"What line of work are you in, Mr. DeSalvio?" I asked amiably enough.

He spread out his hands. They were wide, and dark, infested by huge, thick black hairs that covered the backs of his hands like a rug. He said, "I own a hotel and a casino in Las Vegas, right on the Strip."

"Oh." New respect in me for this guy. He would have to be a whaler. I didn't know exactly what a casino was supposed to be, but anybody who owned a hotel in a place as swanky as Los Vegas-which was where all the movie stars went, said the movie magazines-had to have plenty of loot. And maybe he knew some movie stars. And could help me get into moving pictures, too, or at least on television.

I kind of smiled slyly at him. "Is that why you asked me if I was a virgin? Hiring new talent?"

He kind of gasped and looked at me. He wasn't a young guy-close to forty-but he was dressed well in a Hoobert Heever collar and sharp suit, white-on-white tie, cuff links that glittered with real diamonds, and a couple of shining little rings on his fingers. He had the brief, kind of wider-from-back-to-nose sort of face that typifies short guys, but his face was also kind of puffy in a funny way. He was balding, with a dark-and-white widow's peak, and it didn't bother me at all that I could see where the barber had clipped his naturally hairy ears. What I really dug, though, were his eyes.

They were strange eyes. I had once seen a picture of a guy who lopped off heads in the Tower of London sometime way back when, but this guy's eyes had them beat. They were very black, large, and deeply set within the cavernous depths of his uneven skull. Looking into those eyes, shielded as they were by those shaggy dark brows, you had the feeling that you could never see the bottom of them. They were an immense, deep pool from which no light or life ever echoed.

He broke into a slow smile and opened up a gold cigarette case with his softly manicured nails, extracted a cigarette and lit it. "You're quite a girl," he said. He took a drag and looked at me pretty hard. "How old are ya, Miss Pie?"

"Twenty-one."

He kept looking at me. I felt as if I were being undressed, and it made me feel kind of weak. This was not a big man, but small men aren't necessarily small all over.

"Where ya headed?" he continued.

"I'm goin' to Hollywood."

He kept smiling. "Gonna break into pictures, huh?"

"Maybe."

He looked me up and down like he was going to devour me whole. "Well, you've got the looks for it."

"Get to the point," I said.

And this time, when he looked into my eyes, he saw that it was time he started really talking.

"Miss Pie," he said frankly, "you've got a wonderful body."

"No fooling."

"I've never told this to any other girl," he said demurely, and we both laughed. This guy was okay. I liked him, liked the way he talked.

He went on, "If you're going to Las Vegas-that's where I'm going, too-I've got some clients that would be pretty interested to meet a nice young chick like yourself, and they'd pay a nice piece of change for the privilege. You could be a rich girl in no time."

"How rich?" This was starting to get interesting. Just as he started talking about making money with my beautiful body, I could feel a severe itch growing in my groin. I shook my legs to try to friction it out.

"One thousand dollars for virginity, two hundred dollars a night every night thereafter," he said coldly and without obvious feeling.

"In that case I might as well stay a virgin, it's worth more."

He laughed again. I liked the way he laughed and the way his cute cheeks dimpled. He had very broad, white teeth that one could easily picture snapping a lamb chop in two with a single bite.

"Look," I said, putting my hand on that broad knee of his, "this is all pretty interesting, but what do you say we get something to eat. I'm starved."

"Okay, kid. Whatever you say." He stood up and pushed the service bell.

"Hey, what'd you do that for? Ain't we goin' to the dining car?"

"Naw, what for? And this way we'll have a better chance to talk."

"Okay." I looked around. For the first time since this guy had entered my life, I felt nervous.

* * *

We had T-bone steaks that were just luscious, and Carlo-that's Mr. DeSalvio's first name-left the porter a pretty big tip. Then he lit an after-dinner cigar and kept talking.

"Like I say, Honey, you want to stick with me, I can have you rolling in money in no time. And some of the biggest stars in Hollywood come to my place. All you need to do is be nice to them so they gamble a lot."

"Do you always pick up strange girls on trains?" I asked demurely, fluttering my long lashes at him.

He looked out the window at the deadly dull countryside. "Well," he said, "the truth of it is, I wanted to take the train so's I could just relax for a little while. I've had a lot of business problems lately, so takin' the trains is a luxury with me."

"Oh, I'd much rather take a plane!" I said exuberantly. "They go so fast, and they're so exciting. I'm sure they'd be grand fun!"

He mopped his brow. It was getting a little stuffy in here. "When you've rode them as much as I have, kid, you'll be glad to hit terra firma." He gave me a look. "Well, what about my proposition?"

I tried to look demure and innocent. "I don't think my parents would approve," I said softly.

He guffawed loudly, saying with good humor, "Yeah, that's a possibility."

We both stared out the window for a long time. Finally I ventured, "Who would pay, you or the people I'd ball?"

He shrugged. "Either way you get paid. What's the difference? What were you going to do in Hollywood? Work as a carhop until you got your big break? Why wait? Why work for peanuts? I'm offering you your big break now." He tapped my knee. "Listen, kid," he said emphatically, "you're only young once. Make the most of your looks while you can. Good opportunities don't come so thick and fast that you kin afford to turn 'em aside. Think about what I've said. At thirty a dame's no earthly use to anyone. You support yourself as a secretary or an odd-job gal, or you snare some dumb Joe who makes a hundred and fifty a week. But with what I'm offering you, some morning you kin wake up and find all yer streets paved with gold!"

I didn't quite follow all he said, but I got the general drift. It was immaterial anyway, since I had decided already that I was going to take him up on the deal. I just didn't want to appear too eager. Men always like to be teased a little; that excited them. I wanted to excite this guy because he smelled money, oozed with it, and that was what excited me. I could feel his money all over my thighs and crotch.

The only thing I was afraid of was would he be able to tell that I wasn't a virgin? And also, if I let him have me outside of working hours, would I still get the usual fee?

Well, regardless of whether I did or didn't, I was getting the hots for this piece of male meat bad, just sitting across from those big strong hands of his.

"Well?" he said, still looking at me.

I put my smooth, delicate hand over his rough hand, just sort of caressing the black hairs on the back of it. "Will you give me a little time to think about it, Carlo? Will you? Huh?"

"Why sure, baby. As much time as you want." He stood up. "I'll be in compartment C-7 if you want me."

Well, that was a switch! Getting my pants in an uproar and walking out on me. Now I really needed him like he was the only dentist in town to fix my toothache!

I grabbed his arm. "Jeez, do you have to go so soon, Carlo? We were just getting to know each other." And then I gave him that look of mine that had made weaker men crumble to ashes.

But he was a little tougher than that. He just gulped, his Adam's apple doing a little dance on his throat. "I'll be back later," he said, and then he was gone.

I wanted to call after him, "Don't stay away too long," but he was gone too soon. Slightly disturbed, I sat down at the dressing table and picked up my hairbrush.

Could I really pass for twenty-one? I looked at myself good. Jeez, I was beautiful. The big things on my chest seemed prouder than ever. They were like torpedoes coming right at you. I opened the buttons on my sweater, then shrugged the garment to the floor.

Then I picked up my lipstick and painted the nipples and aureoles a sort of carmine color, hardening them up while I did so. Now they looked good enough for any man's mouth.

Then I started on my hair.

I undid the childish ribbon in my hair and let it fall to the floor on top of my sweater. I'd had a bit of sun lately, so my hair was even finer, lighter, and more shining than ever. I'd even developed some platinum streaks.

And it was long, because I'd never in my life allowed anyone to cut it. It fell in a straight-and-wavy yellow and white waterfall down to my rear end, which was shaped nicely enough to accommodate such a luxurious mane.

I combed it out so it would be long and fleecy, then I brushed it out about a million times. People had often said I had the most beautiful hair in the world.

Then I began to unzip my toreador pants. They kind of fell away and there I was, no panties at all! Would Daddy have been shocked to his banker's teeth!

I ran my fingers through the soft golden down below my belly and wished through clenched teeth that Carlo would come back in a hurry.

I fingered my clit momentarily, until the ooze began to run, and then I wondered if I might not distract myself until Carlo came back by changing clothes. There was no sense fingering myself if I were going to get a length of cock any minute, reaming me for all I was worth.

I already was wearing hose, but I changed to black silk netted ones, then put on sheer blue panties and attached the tabs. Then I rummaged around in my bags until I found a pair of black patent-leather five-inch spike heels I'd been saving for Hollywood. These kind of heels are passe now, but they really make me look statuesque and top-heavy with my tremendous tits.

Boy, did I look sharp in that outfit! Any man who wouldn't have died to get me just then wasn't worth a damn!

And that was when I heard the knock on the door!

"Who is it?" I asked a little fearfully. "Carlo," came the voice. "Open up."

"Just a minute, Carlo."

I was so excited I couldn't stand it! A man in my compartment just at the exact moment when I needed one! This would drive me crazy! Good old Carlo DeSalvio! Let's hear it for our Italian-American friends!

"You in there, baby?"

"Just a minute, Carlo! I'll be right there!"

I had to hurry around and get ready, because I didn't want him to come upon me like this, with everything laid out for him like a road map. That was too easy. Men don't appreciate anything that's too easy. So I had to put something over me. I chose a red negligee that I had swiped from Mother's drawer.

At last I murmured sweetly, "Come in, Carlo."

It was fast gathering into twilight, and the lights were not yet on in my compartment, but Carlo saw just enough to let out a long, low whistle. It must have been low, because I could feel my thighs tremble.

"Wow," he said.

"Is that all?" I asked him coyly, and I sat down to the mirror as if I were going to make myself up for the very first time.

"Baby, you're the most," he breathed, hoarse with wanting my great body.

I didn't say anything. I just applied pink lips from one of my lipsticks and applied enough rouge to look like a kewpie doll won at a carnival. I could see that the carnival was going to be in this compartment tonight though.

I combed out my hair again, for his benefit.

"You've got a mane like a lion," he said, coming up behind me and running his fingers through my hair as if it were money. "You look like a schoolgirl."

I didn't say anything, but just put some light green mascara on my eyelids, brushed up my eyelashes so they were longer and darker, and spread some of Mother's favorite and most sexy perfume all over my body until the room was thick with it. I even put some under my armpits for good measure, and down between my legs.

I didn't have to wait long for him to take action. He took off his coat, ripped off his cuff links, and suddenly his big hairy arms were around me and his thick, gross lips were mashing mine like there was no tomorrow.

Wow! At first I didn't go for his roughness, but then I found it excited me and made me breathless with desire. This guy was all male, not like the other pansies I'd been dealing with.

I felt his thick tongue come in and surround mine, nearly climbing down my throat. His mouth was so wet I could've taken a bath in it. Then he was lifting me up from the stool, his rough hands gripping my fanny, clenching and unclenching those two sensitive globes of mine and driving me crazy. My legs flew up around his hips like they had a mind of their own, and they held on for dear life while I inserted my hot pink tongue into his ear.

He must have gotten his fly open without me even noticing it, he was so fast, and suddenly there was that big, fleshy penis with its indescribable odor, prying at my panties as if it were going to rip them to shreds. With just a twist of my index finger, I pulled part of my panties aside so he could... Oooh! That was great!

I pressed my hairy pussy down onto his prick, driving my tongue wildly in and out of his mouth.

I climbed up and rode him like a jockey, and he plunged into me like a boulder cascading down a deep gorge, whacking the sides of vaginal walls, finally striking bottom with a bang. I never dreamed anything could touch bottom like that. He completely filled me up with that blood-bloated tool. He had me propped up against the dressing table, but neither of us seemed to mind. I was so high I could have gone off trying to do it on the ceiling. That brutish body of his pounded punishment into me like I was a murder suspect in a Chicago police station.

But I loved it. The worse he abused me, the better I liked it. My beautiful blonde head just swam with ecstasy, and I thought smoke would come out of my ears.

"You're the hottest, baby!"

"Carlo, oh Carlo. Fuck me!"

"That's what I'm doing! Come, baby, come!"

I licked his ears wildly. Each thrust put me nearer to ecstasy. Then my orgasm came through in a bursting wave, drowning everything in its path.

Numb and whimpering, I came out of my climax. He was still fucking me like crazy. I looked down at his turgid shaft, glistening from the sheen of my juices, thrusting in and out of my muff. I could feel every stroke-divine, divine, divine.

This guy really had it. I was heading for another shattering, mind-blowing explosion. After a few moments I was keeping pace with him again, my throat gurgling with ecstasy, and I was saying a lot of obscene things I'd never believed myself capable of saying, wild things.

I bit down savagely into his shoulder as I blasted again. The taste of his blood was of garlic.

I climbed down from him, bathed in a cold sweat. I couldn't remember if he had come or not. I hadn't had an orgasm like that in a bitch's age. I was sweating all over, and I clung to him as if he were a life preserver. Any guy who could do that for me deserved a medal.

"Let's get this bed made up," he said, and he rang for the porter.

He sat there coolly smoking a cigarette while the porter made up the bed, and I could have kicked him.

He tipped the guy two dollars and we were alone again.

"You brute," I whispered, rubbing my sore cunny. He had really smashed me. I was sore.

He laughed and made himself comfortable, stretching out on the bed. "Take off my shoes," he commanded.

I did. And then I rolled down his socks. We both unbuckled his trousers and pulled them off him. His cock was still hard and sprang back up as everything came off.

Gosh, he was the hairiest guy I'd ever seen. He had black hair, thick and curly all the way up from his ankles. We slipped off his coat, I undid his shirt, off with the undershirt, and there he was, in all his massive glory.

What a chest, and what thick black hair! He looked more like a gorilla than a man.

"Come on, Honey," he whispered, his hands in my hair, and I knew what he wanted. I shrugged off my negligee and pushed my gigantic breasts into his face. He swallowed almost all of the left one and squeezed the other. Then I slowly sank down, pressing my titties into his thighs, letting my golden hair fall all over him, tickling him like mad. He liked that and reached for my head. Before long my hair was all over his thighs and I rubbed each breast between his thighs. That turned him on, and I took his cloying, deliciously sweet cock into my mouth, licking off all of the fluid that had come out on top.

Then suddenly I broke off and jumped up, laughing. I pranced around while he watched me, then kicked off my pumps, undid my tabs and slowly rolled down my black silk hose. This really got to him. His prong towered over us like a club.

Now I reached into the waistband and rucked down my panties, stepping out of them. I was bold as a newborn babe.

"Baby," he murmured in admiration, "you're the hottest! Come to papa!"

And I came. I kind of straddled him so he could take one big tit in his mouth and play with the other, and then I rode his prick until I was bleeding from it and neither of us could take any more. He must have shot hot spunk into my well of loveliness about a half-dozen times, and I came so often I completely lost track. When we finally fell asleep in each other's arms, panting and heavily satiated, nothing could have woken us up from exhaustion.

CHAPTER SEVEN

It was morning as the train rattled into Chicago. He still had one of my big things in his greedy mouth. My nipple was sore from the way he'd been pulling on it. I disengaged his teeth as gently as I could and went to the window.

Wow! So this was the big city! Was it ever! Golly, I saw more guys on the streets in those few moments than I'd seen in my entire previous life in Plainville.

They were glad to see me, too, I can tell you that. Guys on their way to work waved and whistled even though I couldn't hear them. Whole rows of people, both men and women, on buses and waiting on street corners, took a look at my big babies and made the funniest faces you ever saw. I waved to the men, but the women didn't look too friendly, so I left them alone. I just pranced up and down in front of the window while all those snorting stallions got a good look at me.

Then I pulled down the shades. After all, a girl's got to have some modesty. And besides, I wanted to dress.

My friend was waking up, and it was a good thing, too. I was starved. I picked out a blue-and-white polka dot pleated skirt that I thought would please him, slipped into a fresh pair of yellow panties and threw the old ones into his snoring face. He seemed to like that, and a kind of happy look came over his face as he inhaled through that sheer mask.

He groaned a little and turned over in the bunk. I leaned over him and let one of my melons move around on his shoulder. "How about a little breakfast, hm?" I asked.

He only groaned for an answer. It was then, as I turned away from him with a little shrug, that I noticed the revolver.

It wasn't a very big gun, but seeing it hanging there in its brown leather holster hit me in the stomach like a fist. I gasped, then finally got up enough nerve to approach it.

I took it out of the holster and looked down the barrel. I didn't know much about guns except what some kid in school had taught me, but I knew enough to know that a small-barreled baby like this one wasn't used for a target practice or hunting.

I kind of spun the barrel a few times for kicks, but nothing happened so I put it away. I resolved I was going to be even nicer to this guy than I had been. Gangsters were kind of interesting if they didn't get around to killing you.

"What're you doin' there?"

I whirled around as if I'd been shot, my heart pounding. He was leaning up on his elbow, glaring at me.

"Nothing, Carlo."

"Keep away from that gun!" he said, leaping out of the bunk.

"I'm sorry. I was just looking at it."

"Well, don't get too curious." He brushed me aside, took the holster off the doorhook, and put it on a chair under his coat.

"Why do you carry a thing like that, anyway?"

"I've got an inferiority complex," he laughed, then he peered under the shade. "Where are we?"

"We're in Chicago."

"Chicago!"

He hurried to get dressed, doing everything in quick time.

"What's the hurry?" I blurted.

"Stupid, when you're this deep into Chicago, it means we'll be gettin' off the train in a minute."

"What for?"

"To change trains. Get yer stuff together."

"Gosh, I didn't know we changed trains!" He gave me a kind of funny look. Finally he just shook his head. "Get ready to leave, Honey."

Which I did, of course, because I was brought up to be very obedient to my elders.

* * *

The rest of the trip wasn't very eventful, unless you considered Carlo's rolling stock. We paused in Chicago for a little while, Carlo made a lot of telephone calls, and introduced me to some nice Italian men who met him there.

Gosh, were they ever good-looking: real dark, the kind you never saw around Plainville, and beefy, and talking out of the sides of their mouths the way Chicago gangsters do in old movies. I thought they were sort of clever. Just average Chicagoans, but they talked like gangsters!

It was a cheery good-bye as we waved to those fellows and the other guys that seemed to hang around wherever we were.

Those guys that just "hung around" were always reading newspapers or smoking, or buying something at a cigar stand, and the thing that made me feel that they must be with our party was that they never looked at us. You know, most people have a normal interest in other people, and certainly in kids put together as well as I am, but these guys didn't, they just were kind of "around".

I think Carlo referred to them as "fuzz", which I kind of guessed was Italian for "friends who don't talk much." Anyway, we were soon on our way away from the big city.

The countryside was exciting on the way to Las Vegas, that is, what I got to see of it. Carlo was giving me such a deliciously hard time most of the time that I didn't have much time for peeps out the window. But what I did get to see was pretty nice.

Carlo was pretty neat, too, and before we hit Vegas we got a few things straight between us. One of which was my virgin fee. I think he had a few doubts about the propriety of my claim at first, but finally I bawled so hard that he came up with a thousand easy as pie.

"I'm crazy about you, kid. You're the hottest."

Personally, I had to agree with him. What man could be more right?

* * *

Las Vegas, what a thrill! The playground of movie stars, television stars, and assorted other millionaires. And it was all going to be mine shortly! All because of these big watermelons on my chest. Oooh, I loved them to pieces for being so good to me!

Las Vegas is a kind of necklace out on the desert. One minute you're in the middle of nowhere, just a lot of sand and rock, and the next there's a lot of glitter, just like stars had come down and sat right down in the middle of the desert for a while.

I guess I'd had some ideas about what Las Vegas must be like, but they were none of them like this. It was just too much. It was one thing to see a picture in the magazine and quite another to be surrounded by all the glitter and glory of it!

And Carlo seemed to be a pretty important man there, too. You can believe that I hung onto his arm for dear life.

Even the people at our hotel knew Carlo. I guess that's because he owned it. The moment we entered the Hotel Tahiti he started handing out silver dollars to anyone and everyone who got in his path. It was really thrilling to be with someone so important and with all that dough.

I'd seen the Hotel Tahiti in fan magazines, but I'd never dreamed it was anything like this! For one thing, it was immense, with swimming pools all over the place, and a gambling palace downstairs with roulette wheels and other games that were strictly out of the movies. And I swore to pete that I kept seeing familiar faces from movies! I was thrilled down to my very core, if you know what I mean.

"Okay, baby," Carlo said as he deposited me in our suite overlooking the glittering Strip, "this is your pad. I'll call you later and send up some clothes for you. Get rid of that little-girl stuff. Baby-doll dresses are out."

And before I could say anything, he was gone.

I didn't like that sort of gruff treatment from anyone, and that kind of ordering around. I had a good mind just then to go right on to Hollywood.

But I was kind of curious about Vegas, so I said what the hell?

I got out of all my clothes and looked them over, kind of wondering what he'd get for me, and wondering what I should throw away. But I couldn't find anything I wouldn't miss. Besides, I knew I'd need those tight sweaters and toreador pants and- There was a knock at the door.

"Hello?" I said sweetly.

"Open up, it's Adrian," came a husky voice.

Adrian? Who the hell was Adrian? "I don't know any Adrian," I said innocently.

"You do now. I'm Mr. DeSalvio's wardrobe mistress. He sent me up to see what you need. Open up."

Sent from Mr. DeSalvio! That was different! I opened the door in a hurry. "Come on in."

And then I stopped dead in my tracks. Because I was looking into the hot green eyes of the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen.

I don't know how to describe Adrian. I guess you'd start with the fact that she was tall and work down from there. She had very square shoulders that vee'd down into a very slender waist, and wide flaring hips that swam lazily downward through excitingly long thighs, slender but muscular calves that tapered lovingly in a pair of small ankles and dainty feet. Everything that my mommy had ever been able to arouse in me I felt flare up at just the sight of this exquisite goddess of love. Her bust was voluptuously proportioned, and must have been about a 39E. There was a terrific tingling in my cunny.

But she didn't even seem to notice me. She just walked by me as if I didn't even exist and strode right toward the closet.

She began tossing things onto the floor I had just hung up, saying such things as "This goes, and this, and this-"

"Hey, wait a minute," I screamed out loud. "I just put that stuff in there."

Wham! She whacked me across the face with the back of her hand. I thought I'd have a concussion. She really sent me reeling. I had never seen a person move so fast.

I staggered backward, finally slipped and fell to the floor, my tits bouncing like crazy. But she didn't notice. She was still pulling things out.

This woman fascinated me. No one had ever laid a hand on me before, if you follow me, and I was surprised to find the prospect of a beating from this wonderfully dominant female Was profoundly exciting. I felt more aroused now than I had been just looking at the beautiful jut of her fabulously rounded butt, and that had been plenty. I really went for this big woman in a big way, and I hoped she wouldn't take too long in getting around to those needs of mine.

I felt my face and just sort of sat there, grateful that she hadn't broken anything. Instinctively I wanted to crawl over and throw my arms around her waist. She had beautiful hair too, not quite orange and not quite red, but a burnt auburn somewhere in between. It was very luxuriant and thick, and hung down her back in waves. It wasn't as long as mine, but it came to just above her waist, and I wanted to crawl over and bury my face in it. I knew that it would smell delicious and be nice to touch.

She was also wearing a strange sort of perfume, and it filled the room like musk, just kind of swimming around my head and carrying me away with it. That scent made my flesh so lazy I would gladly have done anything for her just then.

"You have to get rid of all this junk," she said.

What junk? Why, I dressed beautifully. Men were crazy about the way I dressed. So what was so terrible about my wardrobe?

She glared at me and sort of trembled. "Get up, stupid," she said.

I got up with mounting terror in my sweet little heart. My breasts felt all agitated and trembly.

She walked over to me like a buyer in a slave market, her hands on her hips, a kind of swagger in her movements.

"So you're the little piece Carlo brought from the east. That's a laugh." She looked me coldly in my deep-blue eyes and her wide nostrils kind of flared in a way that was exciting and dangerous all at the same time for me.

I nodded and said nothing.

She put her fingers under my chin, and a waver of lassitude swept through me like a tidal wave hitting a beach. "What's your name, sweetheart?" she asked.

"Honey Pie," I stammered, everything in me and on me quivering.

She gave me the up-and-down, all-over-and-around look that really made my thighs sweat. "Honey Pie," she said. "That's cute."

I just smiled.

She lifted my chin. "Look at me when I speak!"

I did look at her. She had the most beautiful patrician nose I'd ever seen, and the most exciting red mouth. I could see the little pink membrane of her tongue moving in back of those moist red lips, and her long black lashes fluttered on beautifully high cheekbones. Those wide green eyes held me transfixed like a butterfly impaled on the collector's pin. I couldn't have said anything had I wanted to.

"Before we're done with you, you'll know how to make a man happy, Honey." Then suddenly her hand dropped and she went for the door. "I'll be back shortly," she said over her shoulder, and then she was gone.

But she didn't return. Two bellhops brought up my new clothes, which featured a lot of miniskirts which showed off my long, tanned legs to good advantage. I gave each of them a tip, and when they were done sucking on my tips, I made them go. Then I got dressed, doing up my hair fancy and putting on a white brocade gown that dropped in the front almost to my navel. I didn't mind. A cut like that gave me the opportunity to show off my jouncy juicy titties, if you know what I mean. Then I put on a pair of five-inch platform heels and headed for the casino.

But I didn't have much luck there. Neither Adrian nor DeSalvio were around, and I didn't have any money on me, so I didn't know what to do. It wasn't long, however, before someone spoke to me.

"Hello, baby, want a drink?"

Yes, and that wasn't all I wanted. I looked into a pair of the darkest eyes I'd ever seen, in the head of a very effeminate man sitting at the bar.

"Sure," I said.

I took a stool next to him and introduced myself. "I'm Honey Pie," I said coyly.

"Just call me Max," he said in a soft voice. "What's your pleasure?"

"Gin sling," I said, and I studied him.

He was tall, about six feet, with thick black hair and a very soft-looking face. He was wearing a double-breasted blue blazer with an emblem of something or other on it, I couldn't make out.

We talked for a while, and finally he asked if we could go someplace and be alone. The familiar way he put his hand on my knee made it almost imperative, because I hadn't had any loving since last night, and I just trembled and shook my legs back and forth when he touched me. I agreed in a hurry.

But we had a surprise waiting for us, because Adrian was waiting for me when I got back, her red hair accentuating how furious she was.

"Where have you been!" she demanded.

"Well, I-"

"With me," Max broke in, stepping forward. "What's it to you, sister?"

Adrian gave him her icy eyes. "You'd better beat it if you know what's good for you, buster. This trick is taken."

Max laughed and stepped right up to her, pushing his own pretty mug in her face. "And if I don't, what then?"

Adrian didn't waste any words. She gave him a chop on the back of the neck, and a sharp knee in the balls. I stepped back, mortified.

But Max fell to one knee for only one moment, then looked up at her with a funny smile on his face. "That was a nice kick, sister. And it would have Worked if you'd tried it on some guy!"

I didn't quite get what Max meant by that, but then he did something that explained everything.

Suddenly he threw off his coat and began rolling up his sleeves, and from the bulge in his shirt it was obvious that Max wasn't a man at all. Max was a woman!

"You asked for it, baby," she said, approaching Adrian. Then she punched Adrian in the side of the head and knocked her down.

"So you wanted to play, didja?" Max said, standing above her with her fists swinging loosely. "I'll show you how." And with that she slapped Adrian across the teeth. She continued slapping and kicking her until Adrian was knocked senseless, a thin trickle of blood trailing from her darling luscious mouth.

"Come on, help me with this," Max told me, and she grabbed her legs.

"Max, what are you doing!"

She got fierce. She was the meanest butch I'd ever met. "You'd better help me or you're going to get a good beating, too!"

I quivered with terror and hurried to help. We picked Adrian up and laid her on the bed. Then Max unloosened a whip that she had been wearing around her waist. I trembled at the sight of it. It was a kind of leather snake, and it looked just dreadful.

"What are you going to do with that?" I stammered.

For answer, she lashed out and slashed the back of my dress. I screamed shrilly. "Any more questions?" she asked. "No."

Then we proceeded to undress Adrian, and a more magnificent love goddess never lived. Slowly we undid the top of her suit, then ripped off her blouse to reveal, encase in a flimsy bra, the most adorable set of jouncy pears. I could not repress the swell of excitement as I fumbled with her brassiere hooks.

"No, that's not the way you do it," Max snarled, and she ripped the bra right off Adrian's quivering flesh. I was so excited I could barely stand it. The sight of Adrian's huge, upstanding breasts, her helplessness and creamy nudity, made me shudder with desire. I hastily went to work on her skirt, had it unzipped in a moment, pulled it down over her glistening silk-stockinged long legs.

Max ripped the tabs right out of her stocking, whipped off Adrian's shoes, and ripped her stockings right off those shimmering beautiful legs. And then we both tugged at the waistband of her panties.

I shuddered with anticipation. That such auburn loveliness could exist was absolutely maddening. The crisp hairs in her cunt were the same color as her hair. I started moving toward that magnetic loveliness but Max stopped me.

"Wait a minute!" she commanded imperiously, not even letting me get in a single lick. She threw her whip down on the floor, saying, "This broad's too gorgeous, I don't wanna cut her up too badly." Then she disappeared into the bathroom, but was back momentarily with a hot towel that she wrung out savagely.

"Now we'll just see how this baby likes it," she said, and I closed my eyes to the horror that was to come.

CHAPTER EIGHT

The first slap with that stinging hot towel across Adrian's bare titties brought her around.

As she screamed, Max smacked her again and again, each time harder than the last, her evil eyes glowing with an obscene lust. Again and again the wet towel slapped those mountainous mounds of luscious titty flesh, across her belly, her shoulders, her cunt, and then we whirled her over so Max could whip her across her ass and those creamy legs. Each time Adrian cried out in pain and tried to grab the towel, but Max was too fast and strong for her.

Finally she was a quivering, helpless mass of jelly. Max raised the stinging towel over her head and Adrian cringed in terror.

"Had enough, slave? Ready to do my bidding?"

"Yes, yes, anything!" came the sobbing reply from the redheaded voluptuary.

"Get my coat, baby," Max ordered me, and I hurried to comply.

But as I picked up her coat, I noticed that there was a shoulder holster sewn in against the right sleeve. Oh, I hoped she wasn't going to shoot poor Adrian!

"Gimme that coat, and be quick!"

I quickly passed it over. Max reached into the shoulder holster and came up with the oddest-looking thing I'd ever seen. It was a gigantic plastic cock with little fringes around the knob. Falling away from its base were some straps. What on earth would one use a thing like this for, I wondered?

Max was already taking off her clothes, and now I was really able to appreciate her. She had the shoulders of a man, but huge pendant breasts that any woman would have been proud of. I felt my heart quicken as I studied her strong legs and well-formed buttocks. And I couldn't repress a shudder of desire or the craving to put my arms around her and suck on those succulent coral tidbits that stood up so proudly from those enormous globes.

Now Max had attached the strange object she had taken from the shoulder holster. I was stunned. What the devil? She fitted it up around her buttocks and under that thick black thatch, and then she moved toward the helpless Adrian with an insane singularity of purpose that held me spellbound, mesmerized.

"No!" Adrian cried in horror.

"Yes, yes," Max replied lasciviously, and then she mounted Adrian and forced her legs apart with those powerful hands. Adrian let out a groan of terror, and then to my amazement her magnificent body jerked forward and suddenly her legs and arms were wrapped tightly around Max as that massive artificial instrument, too big to put one's hand around, shot in through Adrian's fur and splashed open the walls of her cunny.

"Oh, darling," I heard Adrian murmur to my amazement, and then Max was fucking her with that crazy instrument which should have been only torturous, but which actually was eliciting echo upon echo of joy from Adrian's parched lips.

Their bodies moved earnestly in the motions of love, with Max licking her ears and throat and eyelids, and Adrian clutching the other woman's massive, pistoning buttocks. Everything about them, their cries, their faces, seemed to be straining towards a fantastic and heavenly bliss. I was almost jealous that I had been cut out of this.

And then suddenly they made it together, their twats slapping wetly against each other as the giant plastic cock slid home. I could see Adrian go off into outer space, shrieking and thrashing, and Max crying out, and then there was a pink froth all over her thigh.

I'd never seen the wonderful object that Max was wearing. As she brought it out of the depths of Adrian's exhausted and panting pussy, I went over to study it.

"This interest you, sweetheart?" Max asked me, fingering it.

I nodded eagerly.

"Take off your clothes and join the fun," she insisted with a cruel smile.

My heart leaped, and I hurried to comply, then slowed down as I gauged the hungry look on Max's face. I went to the hotel radio and turned on some music.

Adrian was murmuring something into Max's ear, her eyes very drowsy and content, her arms clutching Max tightly as if she had won a valuable prize. I felt remotely jealous as I began to dance in time to the music.

I bounced and wiggled, unzipping the dress in the back and slowly taking it off, like a burlesque dancer might do. I did a few bumps and grinds and slowly dropped it to the floor. It fell in a pool around my shapely legs. Max whistled and applauded boisterously as Adrian grabbed one of her tits and began sucking on it.

I had worn a bra to push up the tops of my succulent warm melons, and now, in time to the music, I reached in back and unhooked it so that my breasts swung free in all of their blinding glory.

Max whistled. I could see the nipples of those huge soft breasts of hers hardening up again, and that made me feel all sweet and excited inside.

I continued to dance, cupping and pushing up those huge tits of mine, nuzzling my face against them, swinging them back and forth, pinching my sweet little nipples until they hurt and grew into hard little soldiers. I lifted up one of my tits and took my nipple right into my own mouth. I could see that this was driving Max crazy. Then I reached down for my panties.

"No! Let me do that!" Max cried out, and she leaped off the bed and ripped my panties to shreds in her eagerness to get at my golden love vault. When she did, I could contain myself no longer. I wrapped my legs around her and felt her assault my beautiful body.

I cried out as that plastic tool came ripping up through my girlish insides. Every nerve ending in my throbbing flesh was on fire. She carried me back to the couch with my legs wrapped around her, and instead of falling onto it, we just hit the arm rest and then I began sobbing and crying and screaming and begging, because each stroke of that plastic cock with its ticklers was just impossible to bear for longer than a single instant.

She ground me and pounded me until I felt as if I were fine powder with that wonderful weapon, implacable, rough, huge, twisting in and out of my excited insides.

I gurgled, dying of desire as each new thrust brought me nearer and nearer to orgasm. And then I went up, up, right to the heavens, and there was a blinding blast of pleasure that was unlike anything I had ever known before.

After that we returned to the bed with our arms around each other, kissing and cajoling. Max was very dear. When she kissed me, her hot tongue entered my mouth and wrapped itself around my tongue in a way that gave me the shivers. And her hands pinched and fondled my aching breasts to drive me wild.

I lay down next to the drowsing goddess Adrian, reaching over to fondle her beautiful body, squeezing her titties and running my hand along her rib cage and belly. As I did so, Max bent down and began a very delicate wooing at the soles of my feet. Her tongue and hot mouth moved up my calves, then the very sensitive insides of my upper thighs. A heady, drugging scent rose from the heat of my teen-aged body.

I gripped Max's head as her fingers parted the curly hairs of my pussy, and then she planted a kiss against the lips of my cunt that made me swoon. Delicately her tongue began to swab my throbbing cunny lips. I moaned deliriously, my beautiful blonde head wagging from side to side as she licked my cunt. Then I drew my legs up so that my knees were touching my titties, and she pushed her hands under my ass and lifted me towards her burning mouth.

Could she lap! She went faster than a horse around a track. I almost lost consciousness, it was so beautiful. Her mouth was excruciating, my torment enervating. I felt as if I were dissolving under her artful ministrations, and I ceased to exist.

A rash broke out all over my breasts from this sheerest ecstasy. Max's tongue on my box, slithering and sliding, with all that wet gunk on her whiskers, was just heaven. A warm sensation like flame over a volcano shot up through the depths of my young flesh, and then I struck the top of the universe, careened off of it, and flew off into time and space to a place so devastatingly beautiful and wonderful and sweet that every nerve ending in my body sang out from the joy of it.

When I came to out of my delirium, I was surprised to find Max engaged in the same stimulating activity with Adrian, licking her auburn cunt to beat the band, her mouth deep in Adrian's aching wound, her chin dripping cum.

Following my desires, I planted my mouth on Adrian's, pressing, feeling, wetting her mouth, drawing her up in the circle of my arms, feeling her gigantic torpedo breasts against my own mammoth darlings, nipple to exciting nipple, mashing against each other, my hands in her auburn hair, her arms in my long blonde hair, and Max all the while concentrating, licking her off.

Suddenly she screamed and began to convulse. I put my tongue in her ear and helped her. After shuddering for about five minutes, she hit it, cried out in happiness, dripped perspiration from every pore, and began the slow and steady return to earth.

We lay around like that for a long while, just enjoying ourselves, licking and sucking and riding and slapping twats wetly together. I can't remember when I'd had a nicer time.

But I couldn't help think that all of this frenetic activity, fun though it was, was bringing me not one little bit closer to Hollywood.

I swung my long tanned legs off the bed and went into the shower. Working out with Adrian and Max had left me numb from the climaxes. But when did the money start?

The telephone rang and Adrian reached it first. I raced out of the bathroom.

Max was sitting up in bed smoking a cigarette. Except for those great tits on her chest, she looked more like a man than any man I had ever seen. She had a cruel kind of mouth that twisted into a snarl when she spoke, and her face was pock-marked, her nose broken. She wore a skull-and-crossbone ring on one finger that she hadn't removed the whole time we were making love, and she had a pair of tattoos in a couple of the oddest places, one of an American flag, the other of a snake.

"Hello," Adrian was saying nervously, darting anxious glances at the two of us. "Yes, Carlo, she's here. Yes, she can take a customer. Good. I'll be down right away. All right, I'll bring it. Good-bye."

Max smiled nastily. "Who was that? Carlo DeSalvio?"

Adrian didn't answer. "You'll have to get out of here," she said.

Max snapped her fingers. "Cigarette."

At the imperious tone in her voice, Adrian rushed to comply. Then she knelt at Max's feet and laid her head against the other woman's knee as Max stroked her breasts.

She whimpered, "Max, we have to get out of here. Someone's coming up for Honey."

Max gave her a hungry kiss, then snapped her head away. "Okay, baby. We can have our fun elsewhere while the kid puts away a little bread." She slapped Adrian's fanny. "Go on, get dressed."

I got dressed, too, because I knew already that I would have to start dressing for a John. I hadn't had my complete training session, but I understood the situation well enough.

Still, I could see I wasn't going to enjoy this much. How could I, after all of this action with Max and Adrian?

The two of them got dressed and left without a word. After all we'd been to each other!

But most of all I was hurt because I wasn't setting the world on fire as I'd expected. My groovy body didn't drive people crazy in Vegas the way it had in Plainville. There was a lot of gorgeous stuff around.

The call came somewhat later. I was sitting on the bed, all dressed up and ready to go.

"Hello," said the masculine voice over the telephone, "this is Reno, Mr. DeSalvio's assistant. Get down to Room three-oh-eight-A and make it snappy."

* * *

The man who opened the door was so ancient I was afraid I might kill him.

"Room service?" he asked gently through the toothless grin in his wizened old face.

"Something like that."

"Come right in, girly. Right this way. Yes sir."

I followed him inside. This suite, like my own, was real luxurious, and, what's more, overlooked the swimming pool in the center of the first floor pavilion.

"Come on in, girly. Don't be shy." I figured that he must be around eighty, but that didn't bother me. I just didn't want him to have a heart attack while we were humping. I looked longingly out the window at the bathers, who seemed to be having such a good time.

"Come on, just you sit down." He patted the edge of the bed with that gnarled old hand of his, and I sat down, lifting my miniskirt a little so that he could glimpse the creamy white tops of my thighs.

"That's a good baby. You know, you remind me of my daughter, Matilda, when she was just a little girl, oh, about sixty years ago." He put his arm around my shoulders and drew me toward him, licking my neck. "Baby like a little drinkee before we get down to the main business?"

"No thank you, kind sir. I just want to do my duty and go home."

"Sure enough." He stood up and tottered over to the liquor cabinet, his billfold falling from his pants pocket. I picked it up and was about to return it to him when green stuff caught my eye.

It was money! I rifled through the bills. Ten thousand dollars! Gosh, that could go a long way toward my career!

He came back to the bed and I quickly slipped the wallet under my bottom. He gulped down his drink in a hurry, and I wondered desperately how I might manage to get away with the dough. While I was considering that, I put my hand on the bulging core of his trousers.

For an old geezer, he was in swinging shape! "Oooh, that's good. Just a little squeeze. Don't stop now."

I wouldn't stop, all right. I'd keep going until he was finished, then I could leave him to rot and catch a plane for Los Angeles.

I unzipped his trousers and dropped my head. His cock was pretty well barnacled, but it sprang right through his shorts and I covered it with my mouth. It had a funny taste, like it had been soaked in lint for about twenty years. But I licked the glans hole and made little cooing noises as if I was crazy about it. That old head of his lolled backwards in ecstasy as I sucked. I could almost hear his ancient sperm cackling as it struggled towards the surface.

"Oh daughter!" he exclaimed, gripping my hair, those gnarled fingers of his twisting in my golden curls until I thought he'd rip them right out of my head.

And then he shot that boiling old sperm right down my throat, his ass jerking up off the bed about a dozen times. He fell back, breathing heavily.

"You sure can do that, Honey," he murmured in reverence, curling his hand on my neck.

I came forward and gave him a sucking kiss on that aged mouth. If he had caught me earlier that day I would have taken a few kicks from him myself. His pubic hair was white and burnt out, but his sperm was delicious.

I was in a hurry, though. I didn't need Carlo DeSalvio now. All I needed was that billfold. So I forced the old man back down on the bed and lifted my skirt. I had nothing on underneath.

But it was no use. He was soft. I had to take off my clothes and kiss him all over before he could get hard again. Then I slipped into his arms and threw back my head as he began sucking feverishly on my breasts. He released me and grasped a breast in each hand, sucking the points as if they were trumpets. I felt cold shivers inside, shooting down my spine. I abandoned myself to his lips, which ran all over the upper part of my body, sucking as if he wanted to draw blood from my flesh.

I put my arms around his skinny withered body and pressed his head against my titties. He was quivering with excitement.

His hands began frantically to explore my gorgeous blonde body, moving down my back, smoothing my buttocks, catching them in voluptuous handfuls of flesh; he ran his fingers along the warm ditch between them, pressed the puckered flesh of my asshole until I squirmed and whimpered; he stroked my thighs and sought my lips with his. His breath smelled of bad teeth and his tongue was rough, almost strangling me, but I felt as if I were swooning. The sheer obscenity of our lovemaking was turning me on. When I poked my fresh pink spear back through his lips I felt spaces where some of his rotten teeth were missing.

He began to pant with shortness of breath. I could hear his ancient heart pounding like a kettle drum. His cock was stiff as a ramrod.

With each fistful of flesh he grabbed-ass, tits, belly, cuntlips-his hips strained up toward me. I could see his penis glowing like barrels of heated gunpowder.

I grabbed his pike and aimed my dripping wrinkled pussy at it. His body was frigid, but his cock looked hot.

I pressed the hot overflow of my flesh against his chill skinniness, warming him, exciting him, so that his hands jumped over my body, unable to keep still. He squirmed as my hand teased along his penis, skimming over its base and running over his balls.

But I was getting terrifically hot, too. I squirmed with delight as his fingers brushed my cuntlips. I pressed down on him, rubbing my hips voluptuously against his prick, which was like rolling hot dough into a length of newly-baked bread.

His skinny old arms encircled me, pulling me to him, his hips pressing up against me, indenting my sensual flesh. His hands gripped my ass as he sucked on my open mouth. And then I wriggled up a little on him until his cock was waving wildly between my legs, occasionally striking my cunt and ass cleavage.

I broke from his ardent kisses, levering myself in position. I grabbed his rod with one hand, gave it a last squeeze, and then slid down on it.

His stiff old pike tore up inside of me. My titties jumped as I slid up and down off of him, my knees slithering away until the whole of my crotch was pressed against the base of his organ and the bone itself was totally contained in my juicy tunnel.

From time to time I opened my eyes and brushed my silky hair from my face. He lay back, his hips tensed, moving up into me only slightly as I descended with furious force, then darted back up again after grinding him good. His lips moved with silent obscenities through that pale and wizened face. When he opened his eyes and looked at me, I screwed up my beautiful face with passion, muttered dirty words myself and let my hair swing forward over my face to tickle his chest.

I writhed and twisted as his cock sank deeper and deeper into my moist, hot body. He watched my titties leap and sway in their glossy skins. He felt my warm thighs pressing his loins as I came down, impaling myself. I pounded him harder and harder, drawing myself all the way up until only the knob of his cock was in the warm, pink portals of my cunt, and then I'd come crashing down. His breathing had become a pitiful consumptive whine.

His bloated prick pounded up my bobbing crotch. I wanted to laugh except that I was about to come too. I sensed from his writhing, agonized expression and his gasps and groans that the end could not be far off, and I began to pummel him for all I was worth.

My loins swarmed as if there were a million snakes inside of me. I could hear my own gasping cries as he thrust painfully up at me, moan after moan echoing his moans, and I emptied my passion wetly onto his prick and the tops of his skinny thighs.

For some seconds afterward I must have been in a daze from my own gibbering climax. I scarcely knew where I was. The first thing that came home to me was that his eyes were wide open and staring at the ceiling in a fixed kind of way, and his hands on my shoulders were unusually tight in their grasp. I thought I had flopped down on him with exhaustion, but now I saw that he had propped me up during my recovery.

When I tried to pry his hands off, I realized what had happened.

I got off of him and he fell back on the bed, his face dissolving like ruined masonry. He seemed to shrink into his skin. I felt disgusted, and vomited all over the carpet. His eyes had come up lemons in their sockets. That was what the old geezer had won from me in Las Vegas. But he had been a powerful old bugger!

I put my ear to his grizzled old chest and heard nothing. Dead as a doornail.

I grabbed the ten thousand dollars from his wallet and left as quietly as I had come. Or is that an appropriate expression?

* * *

From a plane, Los Angeles looks kind of wild. It's big and sprawling, and the lights fan out in a way that seems endless.

I got to International Airport pretty early in the morning, and when I hit I just instructed my taxi driver to swing over in the direction of Hollywood.

Jeez, that cab must have cost a fortune! In Plainville when you catch a cab from the train station, it costs about seventy-five cents. But Los Angeles...

I found a way to settle up with the driver in another way, though. He was very obliging when I suggested an out-of-court settlement, although I can't say that the back seat of a taxicab is any too exciting. The vinyl tends to leave red marks on one's buttocks.

He dropped me at a little motel on Sunset Boulevard where I was finally able to catch up on my sleep. I must have slept about thirteen hours. When I got up it was still sunny out, though, and I took a walk to get my first looks at the Film Capital of the World.

It was a lot more impressive than Plainville, and one had the feeling that anything could happen there. But still I felt somehow let down. Hollywood Shmollywood, so where were the movie stars?

I had to walk for hours before I finally bumped into one.

It was Clint Chamberson, standing on a corner big as life, lighting a cigarette. I was so awed that I must have smiled out loud.

"Howdy ma'am," he said, tipping his cowboy hat.

"Hello," I stammered.

He kind of smirked and leaned up against a lamppost, sharpening his spurs against it. I don't think it ever occurred to me that Clint Chamberson would be dressed any differently.

He was bigger than he looked on television. He had shoulders on him that were about a mile long, and an immense chest built something like an iron forge. I got the shakes just looking at him, thinking of that nice hairy chest I'd seen many times on the goon box.

"You doin' anything, little lady?" he asked me.

"Just lookin' at you, Clint," I said with plenty of awe in my sweet voice. "I ain't never seen a movie star before," I added.

"Aw shucks."

That was all he said for about ten minutes. I was gettin' kind of nervous waiting for him to ask me something else. "Been standing here long?" I asked kind of stupidly.

"Howdy."

I looked around, but there was no one in sight he could have been saying hello to. I figured howdy must be a sort of all-purpose word for him.

Well, I was getting nowhere fast. Finally I took a piece of paper and a pencil from my purse and wrote down my room number and motel for him.

"Use that if you get lonely," I said, and I started walking away.

"Howdy," I heard in back of me, and then, "much obliged."

When you come right down to it, Hollywood is really a slum. Nobody lives there but unemployed actors and faggots. The people making the dough all live in Brentwood, Bel Air, and Beverly Hills.

Even the movie studios aren't in Hollywood any more. Just a few of them are.

And apparently those two big sweethearts on my chest were not going to do as much good for me as I had hoped, because around Hollywood mouth-watering breasts are a dime a gross.

CHAPTER NINE

Mine was certainly a riches-to-rags story for a while.

From banker's daughter in the little mining town of Plainville, to $200-a-night call girl (employed only one night), to carhop in just a few jumps.

Right away, though, I wrote to Daddy and asked him for more money and told him how much I loved him, needed him, and how great it would be when he could embezzle enough from the Plainville Absconder's and Defaulter's National Trust Bank to get him out here so we could have a real swinging time.

Then I also wrote to Mr. DeSalvio, telling him how sorry I was that I couldn't have stayed around, but that after twenty-four hours I'd gotten kind of bored with the gambling capital of North America, and I'd wanted to push on to Hollywood, where Fate had decided I was going to become a big star.

I didn't give him a forwarding address, naturally. I was afraid he might be sore.

The place I finally wound up living in was kind of a dive just off Hollywood Boulevard, near the Hollywood post office. The old lady running the place gave me a break on the rent, although I didn't find out why until later. It was within easy walking of Schwab's on Sunset Boulevard, where a lot of movie people, like Sokolsy the columnist, and Jack Rosenstain, and other people hang out. So I wanted to be near that place, and I also wanted to be convenient to my carhop job at the California No. 2.

I kind of liked the idea that I could walk around in tight hot pants that cut right up my rear, or real high miniskirts, and tight sweaters that showed off my big beauties, without anybody being offended. I wore boots with stiletto heels with this outfit too. In Plainville folks would have been mortified to hell and gone to see me walking around like that. Here in Hollywood nobody seemed to mind.

Maybe because there were plenty of people dressing a lot further out than I was. One guy I used to see every afternoon walked his dog in a tuxedo, and the dog was a Great Dane that came up to about my shoulders! Talk about weird!

A lot of people call that area of Sunset Strip "Pretty town", because there are so many beautiful people working along it. I saw hitchhikers there that had broader shoulders and were more handsome than any movie star. And carhops that made my mouth water, too. And in some places you could have gone in and met the most beautiful young boys in the world, all waiting to be kept by some rich man or woman and not too choosey about which. I'd never seen men like that before and I was really surprised.

I also wondered if it wouldn't be kind of a challenge to try to seduce one of those "gay" blades.

Be that as it may, I wasn't given much time to explore all the interesting possibilities at hand, because I was pretty well tied up as a carhop in the evenings. And during the day I was making the rounds of the movie studios, but without much luck.

"Take your order, sir?" was my standard line as a carhop, and I'd bend low enough at the car window so that a customer could catch an eyeful of my terrific cleavage beneath my uniform. We also had to wear long black hose and pink boots on this job, and our miniskirts showed thigh all the way up to our crotches. Plenty of the carhops were self-conscious about it. I didn't mind though.

Although I did get to thinking how smart I must be to turn down a $200-a-night in Las Vegas just to work for $120-a-week as a carhop in Hollywood.

The difference was, I guess, in the fact that I had thought (mistakenly) that I could make "connections" faster living in Hollywood.

The fact is, I didn't start to make my first real connection until about my third week on the job.

One night this big Rolls touring car tools into the lot, and luckily enough it was in my section. I raced over, my big babies doing a terrific dance under my blouse.

And who should it be but Janryk Foster, one of Hollywood's most famous producers! He was alone at the driver's wheel, but in the back seat a girl and a TV actor I knew but couldn't place were tussling over her virtue, the young man's hands and fingers assaulting her in all the most naughty places as she tried to hold him off.

"Three chocolate sodas," barked Mr. Foster.

Naturally I hurried to fill their order and when I came back, I could see that Mr. Foster had definitely developed eyes for me. I could also see that the actor in the back seat had finally made a successful assault on the girl's virtues. He had his hand under her skirt and her head was resting back. She was moaning and begging him to finger her more.

Mr. Foster thanked me as I gave him the stuff, and then he asked, "You ever done any acting, kid?"

"Oh, yes sir, in school and everywhere!"

He gave me his card. "Call me tomorrow at this number. You got a nice set of boobs."

I looked at the card and tried to blush. The telephone was his residence number. Just think, little me in bed with the famous Janryk Foster! Oh, I got the hots just thinking about it!

I thanked him graciously and walked away. His car left a little while later, and he left me a sizable tip.

I decided right then that I could now give up being a carhop. What the hell, I was going to be a star in a matter of hours, wasn't I?

So I threw in my apron and just walked off the job whistling. I walked up the street to a bar and ordered a drink, which I was able to get because a girl at my rooming house had loaned me her identification.

Then I gave some attention to the boys at the bar.

They were all rather pretty in the way those kind are, with very smooth faces that look as if they'd been made up, and long sensual features. Some had their hair curled and bleached, and they had, for the most part, very full lips, I called over the bartender.

"These boys for sale?" I asked him.

He looked a little astonished. "What's a nice little dame like you need stuff like that for?" he wanted to know. "Yeah, they're for sale, all right.

But they don't prefer ladies." Then he went back to wiping glasses.

I sidled up to the group, which was kind of hanging around down at one end of the bar. They looked at me as if I had the plague.

"How much for you, sweetheart?" I asked the nearest one.

He looked at me as if he couldn't believe his ears. "What do you mean by that, crack?"

"Don't call me a crack," I replied. "I'm a nice girl. But what about you, what do you do for a living?"

"I'm a gigolo," he said haughtily, smoothing his coiffure with his fingers.

"Do you like that sort of work?" I pressed.

"It beats working. So what's it to you?"

I grinned and sipped some more of my drink, whatever it was. "So what's the difference if you go home with a guy or a girl?" I asked.

He blushed and the other boys laughed at him. Only a guy about forty with a big cigar stuck in his fat face didn't seem to dig the joke. He stood around studying me from all angles.

"Oh, go on, Freddy. You'll look absolutely adorable in bed with a girl!" said one of the boys, and they all laughed again.

Freddy wasn't enjoying their humor. He was distinctly uncomfortable. Finally he said to me, "Fifty dollars?"

"Sure. Come on."

And with that we went home.

* * *

You can believe that my landlady gave me a kind of funny look when I showed up with this bird, but she didn't say anything. We strolled upstairs nice as you please.

But as soon as he got inside I threw my arms around this beautiful boy with his made-up face and plucked eyebrows and kissed him on his beautiful full lips.

The result was a terrible face.

When we broke apart he excused himself with, "Girls disgust me."

"Swell," I said. I began taking off my clothes.

He didn't appear to notice my terrific titties and my gigantic areolae swinging around in front of his face, but when I started sliding down my pants, that kind of got him. He made a face and put aside his cigarette. He came over to me and looked down at my magnificent body.

"You have rather large breasts, don't you?" he murmured.

"Uh-huh. Like them?"

He gulped and came a little nearer. I took one of his hands and placed the palm over my left nipple. He appeared fascinated. "Why does it get hard like that when I touch it?" he asked.

I shook my head. I felt the need of a man like it would blow my brains out. "I don't know," I breathed. "God makes it that way. Sure you wouldn't like it in your mouth?" My mouth watered.

But he only winced. "Must I?"

I shrugged. "I m not paying you just to look beautiful." I took out a fifty-dollar bill and dropped it on the bureau. "Well?" I asked.

His shoulders drooped. "If I must, I suppose I must. What do you want me to do?"

"You would make a nice beginning by taking your clothes off," I said, and with that I rucked down my sheer panties and swung my long, blonde hair around. I sat down at my dressing table and began to comb it out. The next time I looked at him, he was standing in the middle of the room, looking ridiculously naked, his clothes in a pile at his feet.

But he was also breathtaking, too. He was not a tall boy, but he was beautifully proportioned. I found my breath coming irregularly. "Come here," I commanded.

He came over and stood before me, his exquisite body lax and disinterested. I began laving his bony knees with my hands, then stood up and ran my hands over his very wide and square shoulders. When I couldn't seem to get any reaction out of him, I sat down at the dressing table again, then turned around and reached forward to wrap my arms around his asscheeks, drawing him towards me and dropping an open-mouthed kiss on his placid, but well-hung prick.

A moan arose from his sensual lips as I began to nibble toward his glans. I could see the blood pulsating in the veins of his prick as it gathered momentum. I plied him with my hands and my mouth, licking his balls and caressing them, running my fingers in and out of the crack of his delicate ass. In a few moments his cock had become as rigid as anyone could want. I began to lick and suck on his prick, in earnest this time, watching the sac of his balls drawing up towards the base of his prick as he got ready to fire.

"Oh! Oh! The way you do that! My God! You suck like a man!"

I wasn't sure if that was a compliment or not, but I took it as one. His fingers were deep in my silky hair and pressing my head ever deeper so that my nose was buried in his pubic hair on the downswing and the head of his cock was banging my tonsils. My mouth felt so soft and loving, so wet, I knew I was giving it to him as no man could do.

"Oh! God! That's terrible! Stop! Oh mother! No! No! No!"

I hoped that my landlady wouldn't hear his shrieking. His head and neck strained backward and his hips arched forward, stuffing my mouth with all that male muscle. As he groaned and began to spit his jism down my throat, my own desires increased rapidly. There was a cloying sweetness in my loins and I seemed to ache all over. My thighs were dripping with the copious, luscious liquid that was my cum. I kept sucking and sucking, and a great jerking fountain of rapture shuddered up from the very center of his being, and then a terrible explosion shook him.

I swallowed all of his gunk and begged for more. My hands were around his rump, just pulling him towards me because I couldn't get enough of his delicious cock and that glorious thick gravy. I licked his prick from base to glans hole to be sure I got every wonderful drop.

And then I let his limp bone slither out of my mouth. I looked at him. He was staggering backward from that magnificent climax. I got up and took him over to the bed. We lay down on it side by side, and I reached for his hand.

As he had already shot the bolt of his desire, I didn't have much faith in being able to give him another hard-on. So with exquisite gentleness I coached his fingers so that they could play properly in the folds of my juicy pussy. He rubbed me there with his fingers, just jacking me gently off, and I cried out with joy and clutched his shoulders. I begged him not to stop and began thrashing about. He kept it up until my entire body shook in a frenzy, so that after a moment or two I located a great height, felt a beauty beyond comparison, and then exploded into joyous nothingness.

When I awoke he was gone. He had taken the money on the bureau. I turned over in bed.

And then for the first time I noticed a little whirring sound. Strange how I had never noticed it before. As I was lying on my back at this very moment, on the pillow of my long golden hair, my titties falling off to either side in shapely unrest, I was looking straight up at the ceiling and something was looking back at me!

I leaped out of bed and put on my wrap, rushing out my door and up the stairs to the next floor. Who could be peeping at me through the ceiling of my room?

I was just in time to meet my landlady, Mrs. McGillicuddy, coming out of her room.

"Hello, darlin'," she said pleasantly.

I wasted no time on words, just dealt a kick like a mule to her solar plexus and drove her back into her room, slamming the door in back of me.

"What? Why, what do you think-" It was plain what had been going on. And this was why I was getting a special rate for my room. Mrs. McGillicuddy must have spotted me for hot pants right away. Her room-it was above mine-contained a camera focused through a hole in my ceiling! Right above my bed!

I gave her another kick in the teeth to keep her quiet. Then I went to the camera and ripped the film out of it.

"What do you think-"

"Shut up or I'll knock your teeth out," I told her. She shut up. "How many more reels have you got like this?" I asked her.

When she didn't answer, I gave her another kick. She fell backward and her mouth started to bleed. "I've got a few more of you," she admitted.

"Okay, queenie, you'd better give me all you got, or you're going to be a dead landlady." I picked up a screwdriver that was lying around and hefted it in my little pinkies.

"All right, all right. Don't hurt me!" She got up and started to putter around the little storeroom in her apartment. After a while she came up with the films. I put them up to the light. Pretty hot stuff, all right.

I also made her give me stuff she had made of other boarders. Pretty wild. She must have had a bunch of floozies running through here for the last few years.

It suddenly occurred to me that I might be able to make a pile of blackmail money with this juicy stuff. I whacked her in the mouth and told her she'd better give me the addresses of people in the films and photographs. When she protested, I decided to offer her a bribe.

I began to take off my wrap so that all of my luscious young flesh was available to her greedy old eyes.

"How do you like that, queenie?" I asked as I advanced on her.

She gulped. I came close and picked up one of my juicy boobs, pushing its big nipple into her face. "How do you like that?" I asked again. She replied by grabbing it hungrily into her greedy mouth, practically swallowing my tit, laving my nipple, chewing on it. She wrapped her old wrinkled arms around my lush young body and pulled me closer. I started to undress her.

When finally I was able to peek between those plump, middle-aged legs, I said to her, "Now I'm going to show you just why you should be nice to little Honey." And with that I lowered my head and began to tongue her thighs, searching along their trembling vastness until my nose was finally deep in the crisp hairs of her puss. I pushed my fingers into her labia, parting the hairy wet folds so that my nose and tongue could advance deeper.

Eventually her enormous old cunt fitted over my face just like a mask, and I probed around inside of her with my face, scarcely able to hear her exultant cries above. I licked every wet, floppy piece of liver I could reach, and nibbled on the sides of her vagina. That fat old body arched right up to me and I thought my face would disappear inside of her. I ground out every imaginable sort of pleasure for her, until at last a gurgle rose in her throat that was like the sound of a baby dying, and then I jerked hard on the long black hairs in the crack of her ass and sent her flying off into space.

* * *

Mrs. McGillicuddy agreed that in exchange for certain services, she would be very happy to cut my rent to nothing and to arrange for the blackmail letters to go to all of her former customers. She was also happy to let me have the motion-picture camera for my own. She was indeed the last of the great cooperative landladies.

So, with all that taken care of, I retired to my quarters and began to prepare for the next day's momentous and monumental meeting with Janryk Foster.

First of all, I shaved my body. My hair was a very light, fleecy yellow now, with streaks that were almost white, but I didn't need it in my armpits. I also made my long legs and arms very smooth. Then I showered with a special soap that would leave a kind of film of scent all over my delicious young body that I was sure Mr. Foster would want an opportunity to taste.

I tweezed my eyebrows so that they were rather slender, and darkened them just slightly. Then I darkened my eyelashes, curling them up and making them longer as I did so.

I put some pink lipstick on my bust, so that my nipples stood out even rosier than they naturally were. I colored my areolae, too. I even toyed with the idea of putting lipstick on the whalemouth of my cunt.

I put scent all over my creamy body: under my armpits, between my thighs, on my mammoth breasts, and over my ears. I wanted to be sure that anyone who made love to me would know he was with a real sex kitten, not just an imitation.

Then I hit the hay so that I would have plenty of sleep in preparation for the Big Day.

* * *

Morning came in a nice way, the way it does in Los Angeles. It was kind of cool and clear, and the sun was shining. I made up my mind that I would call Mr. Foster right away.

I used the phone in the drug store across from the Hollywood post office. His butler answered. "Mr. Foster is sleeping, miss. May I give him a message?"

"You can give him a message, yes. He told me to call this morning. This is Honey Pie, calling from Hollywood."

"In that case, I'm sure that he will be happy to speak to you when he arises." And with that he hung up.

I felt hung up, too. What rudeness! Sleeping at ten o'clock in the morning when bountiful little me was waiting with these big things of mine to give him a good time. Well, that was life, I supposed. I sauntered over to a restaurant and ordered some pancakes.

Along about noon I gave him another ring. This time he answered the phone all by himself. I explained who I was, and though he seemed a little forgetful at first, he finally remembered me and ordered me to come right over.

Which I did, remembering, of course, to bring something to wear for bed. I chose for that particular day and night a pink shortie with a pink bow that would tie up right over the top of my breasts very nicely.

The Foster mansion was kind of out in Beverly Hills up a long, winding road. As usual, there was nobody in the streets. Somebody had been seen walking in Beverly Hills one day and was promptly arrested for it.

I had walked all the way from the bus stop on Sunset Boulevard, but it was worth it. From Foster's place you could look down over Sunset Boulevard and across into the rest of Beverly Hills almost down to Wilshire Boulevard. It was a beautiful day, and the sunshine sparkled on everything. I pushed open the big iron gate to the Foster estate and sauntered up the gravel drive.

My first impression of the grounds was of baronial excellence. There were concrete statues all over the place, and an immense pool, and gardeners working their forearms off. I had just worn sandals, tight jeans and a blouse that was open pretty low, so you can imagine these guys gave me the eye. It made me kind of hot, too, to watch them sweating like that over the gardenias or roses or whatever the hell they were working on. Because I got to thinking that if they could work that hard over a little vegetable life, imagine how hard they could work over a little animal life.

The butler was wearing a black tux and tie. He didn't seem to be offended by my casual attire though. He must have had naked chicks running around this sharp mansion ever since he began working for Mr. Foster.

And then the original Janryk Foster appeared at the top of the long spiral staircase. My heart skipped a beat, and you know where that's located. Well, I just got a kick out of thinking that this guy would be the key to my successful future on the silver screen.

"Well, Honey," he crooned as he came down the stairs in robe and sleepers. "Still got those amazing boobs, I see."

"Darling," I purred, giving him my hand to kiss. In the movies, entrances are always like this.

He took my hand and kissed it, running his left hand like a knife up between my legs. I started itching something terrific.

He said, "I'm so glad you could make it, my dear, because there's someone I want you to meet."

CHAPTER TEN

Well, I can tell you, I've never been so mortified-to get me all the way out here just to fix me up with someone else! Well! After all, what sort of girl did he take me for!

"I'd like you to meet my-" he started to say, and then he was cut off by a booming masculine voice that came from somewhere upstairs.

I looked up to find the most renowned motion-picture star of our time resting on the balustrade. Baron Flynn! The man who had made the word "swashbuckling" mean something to the world! I was flabbergasted!

"And who might this charming young creature be?" said the Great Man.

I gulped. Janryk Foster just sort of frowned. "Well, good morning, Baron. What're you doin' up this time o' the morning?"

"Just came out to see what all the commotion was. Who's this busty charmer?"

Gosh, he was even more stunning than his pictures. He was real tall and lanky, with broad square shoulders and a sort of devil-may-care face boasting a dimpled jaw and a sleek penciled mustache. Oh, I could feel that mustache all over my delicious body just by looking at him.

As he came down the stairs I could see he was in a purple belted robe that did nothing to conceal his manly physique. I could feel my knees tremble as he looked me up and down with those magnificent blue eyes of his that got right down between a girl's legs.

"Good morning, my dear," he said in his very continental way, "and how are you this morning?"

"F-fine, sir," I stammered.

"Good, then you won't mind having a bit of breakfast with me."

He took my arm and began leading me out toward the terrace, turning his head just enough to wink back at Foster, who looked furious at being cut out.

I didn't mind though. After all, what was a little old producer compared to this handsome star whom any girl would have given her eyeteeth to go to bed with? And I was going to get him all for myself!

We ordered up ham and eggs, and I really put it away, I was so hungry. As for wonderful him, he just kind of sat there watching me gobble like a turkey, a nice smile on his face.

"Been in Hollywood long?" he asked me.

"Oh, just about a month," I said, trying to look dainty while talking and at the same time bolting my food down like a longshoreman.

"Where did you meet Mr. Foster?"

"Oh, I'm a carhop where he comes around, and he asked me to call him."

Flynn nodded that beautiful head sagely. "I suppose you'd like to be an actress, too."

"Oh yes, Mr. Flynn."

He sighed. "All young girls come out here looking for just that."

"Well, I think I've got what it takes."

He nodded, pursing his lips; I could see from the way he studied the front of my blouse that he thought I had what it takes, too.

When I finished eating he put his hand on my wrist, and I felt as if a few hundred volts of electricity were shooting through me. "Care to go upstairs and see some of my paintings?" he asked.

"Oh yes, Mr. Flynn," I said, figuring this was my big chance.

Only he had really meant paintings. Upstairs in his suite he had an entire room devoted to this hobby of his, which was really painting.

Some of his stuff was from hunger, but a lot of it was really good. Like street scenes he did of Hollywood and stuff. That was really authentic.

And I suppose the portraits of Hollywood orgies were authentic. They showed rooms full of people making mad love, undulating daisy chains with old guys fucking young girls in the ass, young girls licking off other young girls while masturbating some dude at the same time and being reamed in the ass. There were old girls with young girls, sucking on their titties, young guys with girls and women, screwing them in the ass, sucking on cock, fornicating in every way imaginable. There was even one putrid scene of a German shepherd licking the sleazy drippy cunt of some white-haired, baggy-titted old dame with droopy eyelids. Gosh, what an imagination this Flynn had.

"Real life," he whispered in my ear, his hands gripping my shoulders. I leaned back against him so that my silky blonde hair was in his nose.

Other stuff, like pictures he'd painted of Paris, I guess, were not really so hot. And I told him so. But he only laughed. He didn't care whether I liked any of it or not. He was here to fuck me, not sell paintings. He pressed against my backside, and I could feel the stiffness of his prick against the crack in my ass.

But after rubbing me for a little bit, he finally went over to his paints and canvases and started dabbling with his work. I sat down on the sofa, feeling increasingly uncomfortable. He just sat down in front of his easel and continued to paint some strange stuff.

Which showed me nothing. I mean, what did I care about his old paintings? Here I was, a beautiful blonde sixteen-year-old dish with a pair of the world's biggest and jounciest bazooms and what was he doing? Just painting a lot of stuff nobody'd be interested in ten minutes after his death. I got to kind of wishing I hadn't walked out on Mr. Foster. There was a guy who looked as if he was ready any time.

But I was still ready to exert a little effort with Flynn, too. He was kind of cute. Even if his pictures were only showing on the late show on television these days.

"Say," I said, "did you know that I was president of your fan club back home?"

He seemed genuinely delighted. "And where was that?" he asked.

"Plainville."

I was getting pretty tired of this drab sort of sparring by now. Finally I couldn't take any more and I began unbuttoning my blouse.

Naturally my breasts poured out all over.

"What-what are you doing?" he stammered.

"Well," I said innocently, "I figure that since I was a member of your fan club, and since I have these beautiful big things on my chest-" I fondled my aching breasts in front of his eyes, just sort of fingering those immense coral nipples until they grew and grew into mouthwatering size, "-well, who has a better right to look at them than Baron Flynn. I mean, if you can't look at the tits of a young kid belonging to your very own fan club, well, then, whose can you?"

"They're beautiful," he breathed, and I could see that he was really broken up. After looking at all the nice stuff around Hollywood for all these years, he was still broken up by my two big babies. I was tickled to death.

He came over to the sofa and sat down next to me, his eyes full of wonder.

"Do you really think they're pretty?" I asked, holding them up in front of his face.

"Yes," he croaked, that hungry look coming into his eyes that I dug so well.

"Well, in that case," I said, "seeing that I'm a member of the Baron Flynn Fan Club, it seems only fair that you should have the right to touch them, wouldn't you agree?"

He was speechless, so there was no use expecting an answer. With a kind of dazed look in his eyes, he reached for my magnificent titties. I stretched and arched forward so he could get maximum comfort from them, and then he was touching my nipples, feeling my swelling areolae with his thumb, pinching nipple between thumb and forefinger. It was just great. I mean, after all, with a famous movie star and all...

My blouse fell away from my creamy shoulders, and he bent his head to show his devotion to my magnificent pair of tits. He took one of my hardening nubs into his mouth and began to play with it with his tongue. I put my long-nailed fingers on the back of his neck, caressing him there and also holding on for dear life, because he was making me feel so cozy all over my lush body. He continued to prod my nipple with his tongue, and finally he reached down to unzip my jeans. He was beginning to get the idea, all right.

But you can believe that he was surprised when he discovered that I wasn't wearing anything underneath.

"Wow!" he said as he discovered the lovely blonde bush between my legs, still clasping and unclasping my breasts, and I let him pull my jeans down over my voluptuous thighs and calves. He stroked them and I felt kind of dizzy, because I have very smooth and soft thighs that are very sensitive, especially around the insides. My legs kind of fell apart beautifully, and I was squirming inside and out as his fingers began gently toying with my moist, sloppy cunny. I wanted to fuck him so desperately I could taste it.

"My, you have such a wet cunt for a little girl," he said. "And such remarkable tits. They really swell out and up. Very firm." He twisted them with one hand and pulled at my tingling vagina with the other.

"Come on," I croaked hoarsely. "I'm dying." I gripped his shoulders and dug in with my fingernails.

He caressed my knees, gently spreading them apart, and then slowly his face began to ferret downward. His mouth kissed softly against the gasping lips of my twat and my head just roared as I pressed his head down.

He looked up. "You like to have your cunt kissed?"

"Do I! Oh God! Stick your fingers in my snatch! Hurry!" I thrashed about as he pushed in two fingers, then three. What delight!

My fingernails clawed at his trousers. "Come on," I begged him desperately. "Give me your cock!"

He laughed, then hurried to unbuckle his pants, and took off his shoes as well. As he let his pants drop around his hairy legs, I saw his glorious bone, sticking out like a pike under his jockey shorts.

"Baron," I pleaded, kneeling before the thrust of his masterful tool, "please hurry! I've got to have it so bad!"

Boy, did I have to have it! My cunt was so sweet you could have smelled me in Pasadena.

And with that he lunged forward into the widespread lips of my pussy, pressing his bone deep, deep inside there. The walls of my vagina began contracting around it, and I let out a little screech and bit his shoulder.

So we swam into each other, the fan club of Plainville and the movie star of Hollywood. A flash of fire shot upward into my being; that was his prick. Savagely pounding me, our genitals were grinding together, scorching my aching cunny. My body arched and began jerking convulsively in a rhythm that matched his own wonderful thrusts. His mouth came down on mine, devouring my tender young lips, and a joyous paean of rapture rose from my moaning throat that was like the sound of great amen.

I felt completely enervated from head to toe. Flynn got up and wrapped his robe around him again. I had been kind of surprised to find that he was wearing trousers underneath it, but I guess that so long as we did manage to make it together, there was no harm done.

I ran my fingers down his leg. "Boy, you're great," I whispered.

He seemed genuinely pleased, although I guess he must hear that from all the girls. After all, a dashing movie idol like him and all.

"With you, I felt great, Honey," he confessed. He looked over at me as he belted his sash, his eyes kind of quizzical. "How would you like to have a screen test?" he asked me.

"Little me?" I said as sweetly as I knew how.

He laughed. "Yes, little you, as you put it. You've got something, basic sexuality on all fours. A good part of it are those gorgeous breasts of yours." He came over and took one in his hands, lifting it up to his mouth to suck on it. I pushed my fingers into his hair.

Just then there was a knock at the door. Baron jerked his mouth off my swollen titties, their blue veins jiggling. "Who is it?" he asked.

"It's Janryk, Baron. Open up. I want to introduce that little cunt to Jennifer."

"In a minute," Flynn told him. He looked down at my naked loveliness. "How would you like to meet Jennifer Johnson?" he asked me.

Jennifer Johnson, world famous motion picture actress? Would I! Gosh!

"Would I!" I said in a voice full of awe.

Flynn grinned. "She's Mrs. Janryk Foster, you know. She could do you a lot of good."

Well, I hadn't known that Jennifer Johnson was married to Janryk Foster at all, but it certainly made things convenient. I was meeting so many important people it just made my cunt swim!

I hurried to get dressed, then gave Baron a passionate farewell kiss. He was wearing his robe now, and I was completely dressed, but I just kissed him with my open mouth and rubbed against him until I could feel his cock coming alive. His fingers ran into my hair, my breasts rubbed like immense cushions against his hard chest. We met all dressed, and I just kept rubbing against him and rubbing against him, his nose in my beautiful hair, his breath coming in panting gasps, until finally he clutched me real tight and his prick began jerking against my belly and I knew he was spitting up gunk.

"Wheew," he whistled when he came down out of it. "I haven't come like that since I was a teen-ager. You're some broad."

I smiled and made a note to try it with clothes on more often. That was interesting.

Mr. Foster was waiting in the corridor. He had on a dark-brown blazer and looked very spiffy.

"You are about to meet the one and only, the internationally famous Jennifer Johnson!" he exclaimed as I followed him down the corridor. "I made her a star, and today she is my wife. I made her what she is today, but she is a very strange woman," he added cryptically.

Strange? Well, I kind of hoped that she was strange.

We entered a room that was all shrouded in pink, from the bedsteads to the dressing tables, to the rugs on the floor. And there, in the center of the room on an enormous circular bed, lay my idol, Jennifer Johnson.

Gosh, she was really shot.

For an international movie queen, albeit only to be seen on the afternoon movie on TV these days, she was a pretty old dame. That was probably why she kept the room dark. I shuddered as I looked at her, partly from desire and partly from revulsion. In the movies she always looked so swell, and here she was just a skinny old bag.

She was very slender and dark, a little on the order of my mother, but she had enormous dark eyes and a wide red mouth that looked as if it were made up too much.

She was still kind of dozing. She was stretched out across the bed in a pink nightgown that showed her dilapidated titties, all shriveled up, and her jet-black scraggly hair was all over the pillow.

"This is my wife," Foster murmured, looking at her. Then, almost to himself, "She is no longer in the movies. She is old and besotted with drugs and sex. Nowadays movies are made with young people for young people. This is a house of corpses."

I wasn't sure I followed him. Baron Flynn had seemed to be plenty alive.

He went over to her and sat down on the bed next to her. "Jennifer," he whispered.

She kind of hummed to herself before she answered him. "What is it?" she said in a voice full of ice water, still not opening her eyes.

"I've got someone here I'd like you to meet. I got her for you just yesterday. I thought it would make a nice surprise."

Jennifer Johnson opened her eyes and looked at me. And did she look. I could see right away that we were going to make it together.

"Come here, child," she whispered, and she reached out to me. I went to her, noticing as I did the numerous bottles of pills on her bed table.

I sat down on the bed and kind of leaned forward so that she could see down my blouse if she wanted to.

And she did want to.

"My God," she murmured. "I haven't seen a child like you in I can't remember how many years." She looked over at the pill bottles. "You'll have to excuse me, child. I'm under sedation much of the time. Pills to go to sleep and pills to wake up. Drugs are my constant solace. Have you ever tried LSD?"

"Gosh, no," I said stupidly.

She laughed. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Janryk Foster retreating to the shadows, sitting down in one of the large pink chairs that festooned the room.

"No, dear," she went on, "that's a kind of drug that's very good for you. It makes you feel high as a kite and twice as tall. Would you like to try some?"

"I don't think so." As I said this I kind of leaned forward so she could get a better view of my mammoth tits.

"Lord, but you're beautiful," she murmured, eyeing me.

"Do you think I have beautiful breasts?" I asked innocently. By now I was almost leaning over her. I kicked off my sandals so it would be easier for me to move when the time came.

"Heavens," she breathed, and with this I kind of got up on the bed on my knees, unbuttoning my blouse as I went. It kind of opened up and I told her, "Well, since you're a famous movie star and all, and since I'm one of your very best fans, I suppose it would be all right if I let you see them."

And with this I just kind of leaned over so that my enormous titties dangled right in front of her face. She reached up for them, like a dying prospector reaching for water, but as she reached I sort of pulled back.

"Oh, Miss Johnson," I said. "Now you're being naughty, reaching for my big things with that hungry mouth of yours. What would the police say if they knew you had an innocent sixteen-year-old girl in your bed and you were trying to be naughty to her! They would think that's just terrible!"

She continued to reach for me though, groaning, "Please, anything. I'll do anything. God, they're beautiful." And then she finally got one of my big huskies in her mouth and oh, that was so good.

Her fingers tugged desperately at the zipper on my jeans, pulling them down and reaching inside my panties to find the lush softness of my fleecy mound with its moist lips nestled inside.

Then she drove her fingers into my juicy snatch. Oh, I couldn't stand it! Those thick carmine lips of hers were nibbling on my titties as she jacked me off. She pulled, mauled, twisted, tongued and teethed at my massive breasts. A voluptuous shudder of desire ran through me from head to toe. Now I wanted this woman as much as she wanted me.

She pushed back my jeans so she could put her hands on my creamy buttocks, and then she began to rub them with her fingers and nails in a way that was maddening. My thighs tingled.

As she worked on one breast with her mouth, her hand found the other, twisting it, turning it, pushing it up and back. I felt an excruciating ecstasy in the way she was tormenting me like this. I hoped it would just go on and on.

"Now me," she whispered. "Please."

I was more than happy to accommodate her. She spread her nightgown open and I fastened greedily on her left tit, taking the sullen, wrinkled old nipple into my voracious mouth. After just a moment of tonguing it, I felt it grow hard between my lips, and it began filling up my mouth.

I began playing with her other tidbit, too, until it was growing properly, and then I gave her wide-mouthed wet kisses on her neck that made her swoon, trailing my mouth down her body to the wrinkled nook in her belly, tickling her with the way my blonde hair trickled over her flesh, and finally spying that soft crown of dark muff hair between her legs. I rammed my hands under her flaccid ass and began licking her juicy, sloppy cunt.

She groaned, pedaling her legs as if she were on a bicycle. I could hear them whizzing around my ears through my hair.

Suddenly her old body arced upwards and, looking up, I could see a flash of lightning blow through her. She began to shudder and whine uncontrollably, and that was when I delivered the final swiping lick, her pussy folds leaping up into my mouth, that sent her spinning upward toward the heavens.

She rested back, quivering, her aged hands trembling on my glossy shoulders. Her breath came in gasps of pure delight.

But what about me? Wasn't I going to get some kicks too? Now I was squirming and nervous as the very devil, and she was in no condition to put me out of my misery. She had fallen asleep again.

I looked around. Through the twilight of the room I could make out the reclining figure of Janryk Foster on one of the couches in the huge room. You can imagine my astonishment to discover that he had opened his trousers and was busily masturbating.

I clambered off the bed and ran over to him. "Mr. Foster! What are you doing?"

"Shut up, will you, for God's sake! You're breaking my concentration here!" He moaned and rested his head back as his hand moved up and down on his cock, moving the foreskin over and back.

"Let me help you! Please!"

The perfect solution to my craving! With gentle insistence I pried his hand loose from his penis and pushed it away. His pulsating purplish knob swung in the air in front of me.

"Really," I said, "you've really got to let me help you." I grasped his tool in my hot hand and aimed. Ah, spiked like a suckling pig!

His pole of flesh ran up through my slithery hole, racing right to the top with a mind-jarring bump. Then I began to gallop up and down on him, racing towards that magic apex, that moment of utmost satisfaction.

A satisfied feeling blasted through my nervous system, doing the mile in four seconds. And then something exploded inside my head and I fell over backward, somersaulting off the couch onto the carpet.

When Janryk Foster jolted me, I knew I'd been jolted. I lay there for a long while on the floor, getting my breath, just kind of resting up and enjoying the sweet peaceful lassitude that washed over my ripe young flesh. A truly shattering climax. I still couldn't uncurl my toes.

Finally I sat up and looked around. Everyone was dozing again. I declare! This was the sleepingest house!

Well, never mind. I kicked off the rest of my clothes and pranced around, looking at myself in the lovely mirrors. I sure was sharp! What knockers! What a glorious blonde snatch! What a beautiful head of long blonde hair! I had to hand it to myself. A girl with all that beauty just had to rise in the world.

I combed out my hair at the dressing table for a little bit, then went over and got into bed with Jennifer Johnson. She didn't budge an inch as I nestled up to her, and I was pleased to find that her breasts were a lot firmer than I had thought at first. So I just laid there for a while then, thumbing and palming her nipples and thinking nice things, and how all in all it had turned out to be a very pleasant day. I had done some fancy fucking and some delicious sucking. And maybe I would even get Jennifer to eat my sloppy cunt a little bit.

You couldn't knock a day with so many wonderful ingredients in it, now could you?

CHAPTER ELEVEN

--Dear Daddy-Poo,

I'd like you to know that I have found and fixed up a little place out here, and that I have been given a screen test at one of the big movie studios, where everybody agrees that I have tremendous possibilities. I also have got a small role in one of Jennifer Johnson's next films. Aren't you thrilled?

Hope you can come out soon and join me with all that folding green.

Your loving hotpants kitten,

Honey--

That's a letter I sent to Daddy after I'd been in Hollywood for a little while. His reply:

--Dear Sugar-Cunny,

I know you'll be as grieved as I was to learn that your unfortunate mother has died in the crazy house. Toward the end she was having the weirdest hallucinations, insisting that people were sticking pins into the more sensitive portions of her anatomy. She would cry out in pain and try to fight off unseen assailants. Toward the end, she was calling out your name, which goes to show how much she loved you.

Well, be that as it may, it looks as if I will be tied up here for a while, but you can believe that I yearn for my baby-poo. I hope I'll be able to join you at the earliest possible time, and I've been working overtime in the bank toward that end when we can be together and free of restrictions. After your Hollywood fling, do you think you'd like living in Rio?

Well, be that as it may, I have to get back to work studying our auditors' schedules.

Full of desire,

Daddy--

Jeez, he was really going to try to cop some dough from the bank! Now that things were starting to look up for me, I was worried about him. He might just wind up getting in my way.

But anyway, until he did, I was having a ball.

Baron Flynn got me a screen test at Warren Brothers Studios, and the people who saw it dug it so much I was immediately asked in to the offices of one of the important producers on the lot, B.L. Mizener.

Gosh, I was so impressed it wasn't even funny. I'd been reading about Mr. Mizener ever since I was a little girl. And now to be in his very own office, with all the pictures of the stars on his walls and everything, was really something!

I was kept waiting outside his office, though, by his secretary, for about an hour. She was a tall dame, about forty, with a nice face and a forty-two-inch bust. It seemed like all the women around the studios were pretty big upstairs. I guess it was a fetish.

Her tone wasn't too nice to me, either, but I just guessed she was jealous. I was going to be a big star and she was only a secretary.

I was pretty pleased, though, when I finally got shown into the Big Man's office.

And it was some office. Purple pile on the floor, big long couch, fancy bar, private shithouse, the works. I was really impressed.

"Miss Honey Pie," he said in a toneless sort of voice.

"That's me."

He was kind of a big man, with a glistening mane of long white hair, and when he spoke his voice was very gentle, just like falling rain in the mountains.

He shut the blinds, sat down again and looked up at me. Gosh, I just worshiped him. And I wondered what his cock looked like. "I've seen the rushes of your screen test, Miss Pie," he said nonchalantly, just sort of playing with me and making me nervous. "And they were quite good."

"They were?"

He looked down his glasses at me. "You've got a certain business and beauty, and a sexy way of walking, though of course I'm sure you understand there's more to being a star than just being sexy." He looked at me carefully.

There was? I sure hoped not!

But what I said was, "Oh, sure, I understand that all right, Mr. Mizener."

He smiled as if slightly relieved. Then he began to play with the letter opener on his desk, sort of standing it up and twirling it around on its point. I stared at it fascinated.

"Look in back of you, Miss Pie," he said.

I did. All I saw was this immense sofa so big a couple of people could sleep on it and never touch corners. "Yeah? I'm looking." � "Have you ever heard of the 'casting couch,' Miss Pie?"

"Vaguely. Why don't you call me Honey, Mr. Mizener? It's a lot less formal."

"All right, Honey." He got up from the desk and walked around to where I was. He was a big man. I could see he was looking down the front of this yellow, baby-doll dress I was wearing.

I said, "By casting couch, do you meant that legendary place where young girls are tested to see if they are ready for the movies?"

"That's exactly what I mean, Honey." His eyes had taken on a kind of funny glow, and I got to figuring that he would be drooling any minute. - I sort of twirled around so that my skirt climbed up and he could see my legs better. I pressed my fingers into the sofa. "But isn't it true that no amount of connections in the world is an adequate substitute for genuine talent, Mr. Mizener?"

He shook his head. "Not very."

I stared at him in what I assumed to be an aghast manner, and he stared back.

"Honey," he said, taking my hand in a very fatherly manner, "look at me."

I looked.

"I'm fifty-five years old," he went on. He tapped his stomach. "I've got a paunch and I know it. Do you suppose an old geezer like me could possibly get all the young girls he desires if lie weren't in my position? No young filly would look at me twice under normal circumstances. And do you suppose that any old guy in a position to make movie stars wouldn't do just as I do? Wouldn't jump at the chances to make hay with all of the available cuties that come my way?"

I looked at that couch. "Well, I guess there's something in what you say, Mr. Mizener."

"Look at that couch," he said, pointing to it. "More great careers have been made there than on the sound stages." He laughed. "I know what I am, just a fat old man. But to get stardom many a clean young girl has wanted to please me."

I looked him over. Actually, he wasn't so bad, and he was very distinguished-looking. A girl like me could certainly do worse, and when I saw him dressed in dollar signs my cunny oozed like an oil can. Suddenly I wanted him, just because he smelled like money. I moved toward him and made him take off his double-breasted jacket.

"Isn't it a little warm in here for this?" I said.

He was wearing one of those California sport shirts that kind of clung to his broad body. Ever so teasingly, I began to rotate my palm over one of the nipples on his chest. He gulped and gritted his teeth.

Then ever so slowly, placing my hands in his armpits, I bent my head to kind of mouth the other nipple through his shirt.

He sort of liked that, I could tell. He put his fingers in my baby-blonde curls and pressed me closer. I continued to nip at the little button on his titty as he sighed, then I jerked my head away, wrapped my arms around his neck, and gave him a good strong kiss on his ear, darting my tongue into it and giving it a good washing.

His strong hands moved up my dress toward my full breasts. He was no spring chicken, but I could see he had kept himself in condition, and his hands were unusually strong. When he touched me I gasped and felt my knees grow weak.

"Hey, you really mean it, don't you?" He pushed me away so he could look at me. I was kind of panting, and I wanted it so bad I could taste it.

"Please," I begged. "Don't tease me." And my knees sort of buckled.

But the bastard kept talking. "Usually when a young girl comes in here to try her luck on my famous casting couch, she is an awful phony and I can tell right away. She goes through the motions of love but doesn't mean it." He grabbed my left breast hard and I winced as he twisted it and jerked it back and forth. My head rolled back and my tongue lolled out of my head; I thought I'd have a spasm.

He went on, "But you're really a nympho, aren't you? A young kid like you, a nympho! That's where I come in."

"I hope you're not just saying that," I murmured delicately through half-closed eyelids, licking my pink lips and imagining it was his cock. The way he was fondling my titties was driving me nutty.

For an answer he just pulled the zipper down on my dress. I had worn a brassiere today so that my big things would be more pointy than usual, but he didn't seem too disappointed to find me wearing one. He unhooked it easily and slid it free so that he could feast his eyes on the beautiful blonde loveliness of my wonderful torso. The way my bouncy beauties bobbled up and jiggled all over was really wonderful to see. He drooled.

Feigning shyness, I pulled over my ponytail and kind of covered my breasts with it, but he wouldn't allow that. He bent his head, and the next thing I knew he was nibbling at my nipple, prodding it, making it big. Then his tongue was on it, feeling around, teasing it.

My dress dropped around my dainty five-inch white pumps, and I fell back on the couch. Then he slowly removed my shoes while he stroked my calves and up toward the inner circle of my thighs. I was dizzy from his wonderful touch. If only he would ram his cock into me real soon...

But he continued to work me over, getting me to a really heady pitch of excitement. He was no one to rush. He caressed me and mouthed me methodically, with adoration and reverence for my voluptuous flesh.

His mouth traveled to my calves, his stinging kisses wandering slowly up my trembling legs. I clawed at his trousers, trying to get at that powerful male baseball bat which was hidden behind so many folds of cloth. And then suddenly it sprang forward into view!

I slid down his trousers to get a good long look at him. He wore no shorts, and he was really hung. The sac of his balls was almost to his knees. His cock looked as if it had been used to drill for oil on a rigging in Arabia. It was almost too thick for any normal woman.

"Like it?" he asked, grinning. "Most girls are surprised. This prong could kill you." He tried to put his hand around it, but it was too big. "Just because a guy's old," he said, "doesn't mean he lacks the major equipment."

"It's beautiful," I panted. I lay back on the couch with my legs spread and pointed to my cunt, which was dripping copiously with the nectar of love. "Give it to me here!"

He pushed two fingers up into my pussy and I whinnied, pressing down on his shoulders and closing my eyes. "Here, baby? Is this what you want?"

"Yes, only hurry! Please!"

He worked his fingers around inside of me and they disappeared. He was driving me crazy. I couldn't bear it another moment if he didn't get inside of me.

"You're a real blonde," he said in admiration, and then I felt his powerful rod plunging forward, splitting up inside of me, so magnificent, so wonderful, entering me, forcing its way through my fountain of ecstasy toward the sacred pool at the bottom that was all that mattered in life.

I must have screamed, or cried out in rapture. I was moaning, and lashing at him with my fingernails and fists.

My eyes rolled backward up into my beautiful head and I forgot everything except his masterful cock sliding in and out of me, that greasy pole with so many wonderful ridges, veins and pimples. A great spasm, a shudder of ecstasy shook me that was so great in its power that every nerve ending in my body lit up like a Christmas tree, and then I blacked out from the beautiful sweet torture of it.

When I woke up, Mr. Mizener was already up and lighting a cigarette. All dressed he was, too! That's what I call a businesslike attitude!

I sat up so that my beautiful breasts just sort of swung in their sockets, their big swollen nubs all red and raw from his sucking and chewing.

And he was still talking, too!

"Like I said, any girl who's a nympho in this business has got it made, absolutely got it made. You put out a little for the cameraman, he gives you better shots. Have a talk with film editors, and only the physical part of you winds up on the cutting-room floor. It's just a business like any other, but with some magnificent compensations."

To illustrate, he walked around from behind the desk, came over to me and slapped my breasts hard with his open hand. Oh, that hurt terribly, but it also felt real good, too.

"See what I mean. That pair of magnificent tits you've got is worth all the money in the world. With them you can get anything, so long as you remember to unveil them faster than anyone else can unveil theirs. And they're a pair of the compensations in this business. That's why producers say they work long hours because they love their work. That's a laugh! What they love about their work is when they get some lush young babe down on their casting couch, make her spread her smooth young legs, and then pump her until her brains blow out."

A buzzer sounded on his desk and he went to the telephone. He listened to it for a moment and then gave me a ghastly look.

"My wife." He looked as if he were about to turn a dozen different colors. He feverishly zipped up his pants and then grabbed me by the arm, leading me to his private John. He threw open the door and shoved me inside. "You'd better get in there for the time being."

The door closed and I was in darkness, standing there clutching my big breasts and everything else, alone and naked in the latrine- of the world's most influential filmmaker.

"Benjie!" I heard a woman's voice exclaim. Not thinking very clearly, I bent down so I could look through the keyhole. It didn't occur to me for a moment that I should have been actively engaged in getting my clothes the hell back on.

I could see a rather plump old woman of about fifty walking cartwheels all around the Great Man's desk.

"Benjie, fafoofnik," she was saying as she gave him a big slobbering kiss on the cheek, and then she gave him a rundown on what she had been doing, where she had been shopping, and the like.

"Sophie, my darling," he exclaimed, and I like to have retched. What a thing to say to an old bag like that.

In any case, while they were fooling around, I figured I'd better get into my clothes only to suddenly hear the door being tried! Without thinking, I leapt into the bathtub. After all, I might have strolled in here to take a bath, mightn't I?

"Don't go in there, dear," I heard Mizener say, "the plumber is still working in there."

I closed the shower curtain, then suddenly the door was opening. I was petrified, stark naked holding my clothes in a bathtub!

"So, dey is no cuties in here, is it?" I heard her say as she looked around.

"Of course not, Sophie darling," he said patronizingly.

I could see their moving shadows through the shower curtain.

Then suddenly it was whipped open. I couldn't think of a thing to say. Mrs. Mizener gasped, fell back into the arms of her beloved. I attempted, "Pardon me, I'm the plumber. Can you tell me the way to Wardrobe?" But it was useless. I jumped out of the bathtub and ran out.

* * *

I was living at the Fosters' now, and had even rented a little sports car. When I got in, all was quiet around the old palatial manse. I went upstairs to Jennifer Johnson's room.

She was still sleeping, open bottles of pills at her bedside. I got to thinking how easy it would be to rearrange the order of the bottles. She might get them mixed up and accidentally take the wrong ones at the wrong time, or too many of the wrong ones or something.

Just then she saw me and raised her arm. She still looked beautiful in this kind of twilight, and after the rough hardiness of Mizener's pulsating rod, I sort of longed for a bit of feminine softness. I took off my clothes and got into bed with her.

And as I lay there with my arms around her, our mouths pressed tightly together, I got to thinking what advantages I might have with her out of the way.

Of course there were a lot of people who would be better off out of the way, so far as I was concerned.

Daddy was one, because he would leave me a whole lot of money.

Jennifer Johnson was another, because she was a big star and every big star counted against my own rise. Although, of course, so long as I held onto her skirt tails she could help me a lot, and so would the perverted Janryk Foster.

Which reminded me that I could do a lot worse than marrying Janryk myself.

Which reminded me, for no particular reason, that tomorrow I was going to be seventeen, and my, hadn't I come a long way in just a short while for one so young.

I also considered Mrs. McGillicuddy. She was doing a nice job of handling those blackmail accounts, and the money was piling up in the bank, but for some reason I wondered if I could trust her. I wondered idly if I could assign that sort of blackmail collection to the trust department of a bank, but somehow I doubted it.

Jennifer Johnson stirred in my arms and I soothed her. Then I returned to my wondering.

Baron Flynn, complaining that he was no longer being offered juicy roles and contemptuous of television, had taken his ship to Spain. So I probably wouldn't be seeing him for a while. But he had helped me to get my screen test at Warren's, which was going to lead to big things.

And Jennifer Johnson had gotten me a bit part in her next picture, Hotpants, just by calling her producer, and he'd be ready to shoot sometime this month. The story of the movie centered around a young girl who leaves a convent and what happens to her afterward. It seemed to me it was ridiculous to cast an old bag like Jennifer in a part like that, but makeup and lighting would probably smooth out her wrinkles.

I stretched and looked down at my magnificent tits. Somehow I didn't see why I couldn't play a role like that as well as she could.

In my daydreaming I also remembered Mr. DeSalvio and his hairy testicles. I wondered what had become of him and all the rest of my friends along my torturous road to the Big Time. Alas, they had all served their purpose and then drifted away.

Jennifer Johnson groaned in her stupor and I had to make love to her. I lifted her nightgown up in the front and stuffed my fingers into her slowly moistening slit. It was an old thing, and very smelly, but it really knew how to spit the juice. One night I had lain there fingering it and it had spit out half a cupful. Jennifer hadn't believed it when I'd showed it to her. Squirted just like a fountain, or a grapefruit being pried with a spoon.

So there I was, fingering her and getting hotter myself. She was moaning and writhing as I jabbed my fingers into her clit and sucked on her breast.

And then a strange thing happened. A Western Union telegram slid under the bedroom door.

CHAPTER TWELVE

It was from Papa! Gosh! I wondered what it could be all about!

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Arriving LA International Airport 5PM STOP Call you immediately STOP Urgent We Keep on Move STOP Be Ready STOP

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Be ready? Golly, what was that all about? Just now, when I had all the world in the palm of my hand, he was going to want me to go to Guatemala or some other place where only spiders live! Gosh! He'd probably embezzled the bank out of its eyeteeth.

I satisfied Jennifer Johnson momentarily and dropped out of bed. Certainly I'd have to be waiting at Mrs. McGillicuddy's when Daddy arrived, or I might not get a peek at the loot he was carrying.

So I had to hurry.

I tooled my little sports car out of the drive and made it for Mrs. McGillicuddy's like crazy. Once there, I didn't have long to wait. At exactly 5:01 Daddy called me on the hall phone.

"Daddy! Gee whiz!"

He spoke in a guarded whisper. "Baby, can you meet me at the airport?"

"Why sure, Daddy. Why all the mystery?" As if I didn't know!

* * *

You can bet I was really surprised when I saw Daddy. He looked just rotten. You know, as if he'd been under a strain.

"Sweetheart!" he exclaimed as he saw me.

"Hello, dumpling," I said rather cautiously as he enfolded me in his arms. "What've you got in that big black-leather bag you're carrying so carefully?"

He pulled me to one side. "Sssh, we've got to be very careful." He looked around. "Come on, let's go someplace and talk."

"Gosh, you haven't done anything foolish, have you, Daddy?" I asked innocently.

"Not too foolish. But we've got to get out of the country."

As he said this, he was watching some tall, suspicious-looking men taking up positions at the ticket counters. I could tell he didn't like the looks of that.

"Come on, we'd better get out of here!" He propelled me toward the nearest car-rental station.

After a little bit we were tooling out in a sharp new Mustang convertible and hightailing it down the Pacific Coast Highway for the greaseball border. Gosh, I hadn't even brought my eye makeup along! How would it look to the photographers!

So we went driving and driving and driving some more. I was starting to get plenty nervous.

"Gosh, Daddy, can't we stop somewhere for a cup of coffee?"

He looked nervously back at me. "Can't stop now. Got to hurry, I tell you!"

I went sullen and morose in response to this, and finally he pulled over to the side of the road. He grabbed my shoulders. "Don't sulk, baby. Don't be mad at your daddy. I'll be ramming my rod up into your cunt any minute. But you've got to be patient. Look, let's get something to eat."

"Okay."

There was a diner across the road and we trudged across to it. As I looked down toward the beach from where we had parked I could see that the cliffs were pretty rocky all the way down. That sort of gave me an idea.

I kind of remembered what pocket of his suitcoat Daddy had dropped in the keys to the car, and when I hung up my jacket, I made it my business to lift those keys very gracefully.

Then I hollered equally as gracefully, "Gosh, Daddykins, I forgot my purse in the car. I'd better go get it!" And before he could say anything, I ran out of the diner.

The car was parked off to one side so that Pops couldn't see what I was doing. Hurriedly I opened the trunk and took out the little black bag, unzipped it and looked inside.

Gosh! It looked like $500,000! Shades of Clifford Irving!

That was enough money to do anything in the whole world. I grabbed the bag and slammed the trunk shut. Then I looked around for someplace to hide it.

Below the top ledge of the cliff there was a kind of indentation and a tiny cave. I leaned over on my belly and dropped the bag in there. Then I clambered back up.

It was pretty easy to throw the car into neutral and just sort of nudge it over the cliff. It went piling down onto the rocks below, sort of screaming its mechanical life away, and then it exploded into flames.

I brushed myself off and returned to the cafe to indulge in a leisurely meal.

"Mmm, that was really good, Daddy."

He was happy to see me so childishly pleased, of course. Naturally.

I said, "Would you mind if I make a telephone call? Only take a sec."

He minded, but there wasn't much he could do about it. In a moment I was calling the local constabulary to notify them that the runaway embezzler from Plainville was located within the immediate vicinity.

It was pretty sad about the car going over the cliff in flames, and Dad was pretty broke up about it. I tried to comfort him, but just then a bunch of squad cars rolled up from the local highway patrol. Before you could say "Crook!" we were on our way down to the local jail.

* * *

The rest is history. Daddy was tried and convicted, although the money was never found-by anyone but me, of course-and he spent his last days in San Quentin cursing the Fates and writing dirty letters to me. Too bad about that.

As for myself, all that publicity turned out to be pretty good for me. I appeared in Hotpants and drew rave notices, then had parts in Difficult Rider, and 69 Ways In Peking, and before you knew it I was on my way.

As for Jennifer Johnson, it was too bad about her.

She kept taking the wrong pills and screwing up her roles.

Finally I got one of her leading parts because I had studied up for it and done a lot of studying of other things under B.L. Mizener, Janryk Foster and Baron Flynn. Everybody canned poor Jennifer but good, and she was really down in the dumps about it.

I managed to cheer her up on her last night, however, and she was kind enough to sign away all her worldly possessions to me. Unfortunately she kicked the bucket the very next morning. Heart failure, they said. Well, knowing my capabilities, that's pretty understandable.

So one thing led to another, and before I knew it I was' a star. Good deal. I was piling up millions, and by now I was such an important person I could satisfy my obscene cravings any way I liked. I'd just see some stud I wanted and I'd say, "You! Come here!" They always came, too.

Like just last week, for instance.

I was in Schwab's having a good time being adored by everybody, drinking a chocolate soda, and I saw this most gorgeous guy. He must have been about six-foot-five, with the broadest shoulders the world had ever seen. I just rippled when I looked at him. He had raven-black hair and the most striking face. It was all hard planes and angles, with a square jaw, limpid blue eyes under long dark lashes, huge white teeth, and a mouth made for kissing. He had shaved so close his jaw was almost blue, and I had the hots for him right away.

So I just went over to his table, leaving my own group of admirers behind, and I startled all of the people he was with by saying, "You there. Come here."

Naturally he got up right away and I had him follow me out onto Sunset Boulevard where we could talk. "What's your name?" I said, sizing up his beautiful physique, studying his hips and the sway of those wide, wide shoulders with the air of someone selecting a choice steak in a supermarket.

"Harvey Wolff," he said in a deep, masculine voice.

"I suppose your friends call you Wolff."

"No."

"No, what?"

"No, they call me Harvey."

"Well, be that as it may, Harvey, how would you like to come home with me for a little while?"

He bowed slightly, which was kind of cute. "I am your humble slave, Miss Pie."

The sexy way he said that made me want to put a ring in his ear.

Anyway, so we went to my place.

By now I was living in a real sharp place up in the Hollywood Hills over Bel Air. You know where I mean, where you're just nobody unless you get burned out or washed down the mountainside once a year. It had a big gate around it and was guarded by a Great Dane.

Harvey kind of dug the place, too, as much as I dug him.

"Wow, this is really sharp."

Inside I had my Oriental manservant fix us a couple of drinks, and then I led Harvey right up to the bedroom where I started undoing his shirt. "Been in Hollywood long, Harv?" I said, kissing his hairy chest.

He was really hairy, too. He had a mat of black hair across his chest thick as a carpet. I dug him like crazy.

"Uh, no, in fact. I just got in from Spokane a few weeks ago."

But I didn't care if he'd come from the moon. I dug through the hairs and gave him a little bite on his nipple. He liked that.

I looked up at him. "Do you like me, Harvey?"

"I'll say." He fingered my blonde hair, admiring it.

"I'm a natural blonde, too," I said. "I'll show you." And with that I kicked off my heels and pulled up my skirt.

"See?"

"Wow," he murmured reverently, which is the style I like in my murmurs.

Then he knifed his hand up between my legs. I closed my eyes and squirmed. I'm very sensitive there.

Luckily I regained myself just enough to start to work again on his clothes. I got his shirt off and ran my fingers all over that massive chest. He was really beautiful, the most beautiful hunk of man I'd ever seen in all my hot life.

My fingers ran from one shoulder to the next, then flicked his nipples and teased his hairy navel. He was unqualified muscle all over. I tugged at his Levi's for dear life.

I was tickled silly to see that he wasn't wearing any shorts. And gratified to see that Harvey's cock was immense.

He was fast to take the initiative, too. He propped my skirt up around my waist and pressed me back down on the bed. His bone was jerking over me, casting drops of precoital fluid here and there on my belly. And then he moved down, thrusted, and slipped that powerful cudgel into me.

I gasped as he pushed my legs up over his massive shoulders and rammed deeply into my uterus. My teeth chattered and my eyeballs rattled.

He didn't need any coaxing. There was a savage, exciting growl from his throat and he pressed down into me until I thought he was going to try to stuff his huge balls up into my crack. He was just tremendous. Each stroke was like being pounded to death. I felt as if honey were flowing from my cunt, not cum.

The way he jabbed me was painful, but at the same time savagely thrilling, and it seemed that we were coupled for only a few seconds when I had blown my brains out and went shooting up right to the moon.

* * *

I can't help it. I just walk the streets looking for interesting faces or bodies. Is that so terrible? Would you like to be fucked by the same cock all the time? Or have to make love with the same gorgeous girl every night without stop?

Too dull, too dull. The monotony would kill me. As it stands, my cunt is always alive and biting. And when I see something interesting, I have to have it!

Incidentally, what line of work are you in? And what town did you say you lived in? It's just possible I'll be in that town someday, and I'll see you, and I'll just zip down your jeans or your pants and start sucking you off.

Watch for me! A gorgeous tall blonde with gigantic tits. Walking down the street and looking for you.

Tomorrow? Maybe. Who can tell?

THE END
Thanks For The Mammaries ....(91k)    by John Dover




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