enovel Orgy Wife Heather Brown [Future Story Codes]

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Orgy Wife ....(95k)    by Heather Brown

FOREWORD

In today's society there are many needy people who are forced to rely on the generosity of the state to keep body and soul together.

There is the senior citizen who finds his Social Security check buys less and less in an inflation-prone society. There is the abandoned mother who finds that welfare checks and food stamps are barely enough to sustain and stabilize a family. There is the severely ill worker who finds that Medicare cannot meet soaring medical costs.

Edna O'Brien is a woman who finds herself trapped in a vicious cycle of poverty. Forced to live in a housing project whose squalor she detests, she is further frustrated by the shackles that tie her to her brutish husband, a man who abuses her both verbally and physically, and who callously disregards her sexual needs. In desperation, Edna turns to other men, both to fulfill the cravings of her body and to allow her temporary escape from her private hell, until she has turned her life into an orgiastic merry-go-round of lust.

ORGY WIFE-the tale of a woman determined to set herself free, and the lustful path she takes to her goal. Her story is a reminder that, for our society, Utopia is still a long way off.

-The Publisher

CHAPTER ONE

I was in such a damned rut. I knew it was all because of the housing project, the lousy housing project, where the sun shines last.

The project has the only buildings in the whole damn city this tall. Ten stories. Nobody else is stacked like light bulbs into these boxes we live in; but we're poor, so it's all right with the people who run things.

The first thing I always do in the morning is take out the garbage. If I don't, the roaches take over our four dinky rooms. Of course today the trash was mostly empty beer cans because yesterday had been Sunday, and Eddie had been home all day. Football. He sat in front of that damn television set all day long watching football, swilling down can after can of beer.

Eddie's getting fat. He's getting this big belly. You'd think a guy who's a garbage man would get plenty of exercise and would be able to keep his weight down. But not Eddie. Since he was promoted to driving the truck, he's managed to grow a spare tire around his middle and a cluster of hemorrhoids.

Living here takes it all out of me. I've got two kids, and I've got to admit they take care of themselves, even though Johnny's only twelve and Janie's just ten. They get up by themselves, pour their own bowls of cereal for breakfast, and go off to school by themselves.

It's not just me. Everybody's kids are like that in the projects. That's just the kind of place it is. Like I said, it takes it out of you.

I finished stuffing the beer cans and other garbage into the trash cans and started walking slowly back across the brown grass towards the building in which I live. But I didn't feel like going back inside. It was warm outside, but the apartment still hadn't warmed up from the fall night. Anyway, it was depressing inside. The kids would do anything to stay outside, and right now I sort of felt the same way.

I walked over and sat down on some steps. The first thing I noticed was how hard and cold the cement felt against my ass. I remembered that I wasn't wearing anything under my robe, and that there was only some cheap, worn-out corduroy between my skin and the step. I could feel goose bumps rising instantly on my thighs from sitting there, and a tightening in my crotch from the shock of the cold cement.

Sitting there, feeling the clenching in my loins, I became aware of what was between my legs. The awareness of my cunt-immediately set me to thinking about one of my other dissatisfactions in life. Here I was 27 years old, supposedly in the prime of my life, and I might as well have been 87. My pussy seemed as useless these days as if it belonged to an old woman in a nursing home.

The fact of the matter was that I wasn't getting any cock. And believe me I wanted it. Eddie was only interested in two things when he got home from work: drinking and sleeping, in that order. Nothing ever happened in the bedroom. He just snored and farted the way he does, while I lie beside him wishing desperately that someone would fuck me.

Oh, well, I thought, I can't spend all day sitting out here on the steps in my bathrobe daydreaming. I got up and started listlessly back into the building, drearily anticipating another boring day.

We live on the ninth floor, so I headed for the elevator, hoping it wouldn't go on the blink as it periodically does.

When I got inside and the door eased closed, the first thing I noticed was a glistening, crumpled object thrown in the corner. I leaned over to see what it was, and as I reached out to touch it, a shock of recognition went through me.

It was a rubber. Used of course. It was stuck in a congealed glob of sperm. Somebody had been fucking in the elevator.

I suppose I should have been disgusted. But I wasn't. The idea of two people fucking in the elevator excited me. Why not? There was nothing else to do in this place. I wished somebody would fuck me in the elevator. Or anyplace, if the truth were known, although I wasn't out and out admitting it to myself at the moment.

I don't know what came over me. Actually, I guess I do in retrospect, but at the time I suppose I was still trying to kid myself. Anyway, I reached over and actually picked up the used rubber. As I did, a moist glob of sperm slid out of it like spit.

I looked at the rubber and worked it squishily against my skin. In my mind I imagined it filled, standing straight out with a throbbing prick in it.

My mind saw the imaginary cock inside a spread pussy and pumping in and out. There were no bodies or faces attached to the organs I visualized, just cock and cunt fucking in my head. My mind's eye somehow went inside of the cunt and I could see the pink walls clenching the thrusting prick until the head of it swelled and it spewed forth globs of rich, sticky jizz until the reservoir of the rubber was filled and bulging with the milky discharge.

Back to reality I looked at the still damp rubber I had found on the elevator floor and held it to my nose and sniffed it. The sweet smell of sex was still on it.

I'm sure that if I had stopped to think about what I did next, I would have recoiled in shame. But I was too hot to think. Instead, I unbuttoned the front of my robe so that it fell apart and my tits and my pussy were visible. I looked down at my body and imagined it laid out with the thighs spread, inviting somebody, anybody, to fuck me.

Without realizing what I was doing, I took the moist rubber and pressed it to my crotch, rubbing it against the now drooling lips of my pussy while I used the other hand to caress my tits, massaging my erect nipples.

As I felt myself up, I looked around the walls of the elevator. Graffiti was all over them, and almost all of it was obscene. I loved it. It turned me on even more.

"If you can't fuck it, suck it."

"If you want your cock sucked, call Gloria. 253-1158."

"If you want a ten-inch cock up your ass, be here at 1:00 this Friday."

There were drawings of people fucking and eating each other out. They were crude and childish, except for one. I moved closer to it and studied it as I continued to work on my throbbing tits and cunt, a finger all the way up my pussy by now. It was a drawing of a couple fucking. It was just like what I had imagined a few moments ago-no faces or bodies, just genitals doing what they're supposed to do.

It had been drawn in such detail you could see the seam going down the middle of the cock, standing out as the shaft disappeared and was swallowed by the clutching, hairy cunt. Moisture oozed over the tight lips of the pussy and bathed the prick. The balls were tight and hairy.

With one hand still pressing the soggy rubber against my drenched pussy as I finger-fucked myself, I reached from my tits with the other hand and touched the drawing as though it were two real people. I could almost feel the pulsing warmth of what the picture represented, and had it in my head that the one thing in the world I would like to do right now was pull that prick out of the cunt and wrap my lips around it so it would come in my mouth and I could swallow the onslaught of hot, sticky sperm.

Suddenly a bell rang and I was back to reality. The elevator was signaling it was the ninth floor. The door opened onto the hall and there I was feeling myself up and finger-fucking myself. What if someone had been there waiting for the elevator? Who cares, I was only interested in one thing now, and that was getting myself off. If there was no one around to stick it in me, I'd fuck myself.

Not bothering to close my robe, I dashed from the elevator to my apartment and let myself in, being so frantic to feel my pussy explode that I didn't even bother to close the door behind me as I ran into the bedroom.

I threw the robe off me and then went over to the bed and started pulling it towards the dresser. There was a mirror on the bureau and I wanted to see myself in it. If nobody else was going to enjoy the sight of my slobbering cunt, engorged with blood, frothing to come, then I was.

When I got the bed in place, I lay down, propping my hips up on a pillow so I could see everything as I spread my legs as wide as they would go.

It had been a long time since I had stopped to appreciate myself. At 27 I was still in my youth, and my body was hard and sexy. As I looked into the mirror through the valley of my parted legs, I saw in its full glory the totality of my pussy, and the sight of my pulsing cunt in its prime accelerated my hotness until I was panting.

A married woman almost never stops to look at her cunt. She just takes it for granted that it's there for the benefit of her husband, and lets him stick his cock inside it when he feels like it, while she tries to forget that it is there between her legs waiting to be fucked, the rest of the time.

Now, as I gazed at it in its full bloom, I realized that my cunt was beautiful. It was framed by dark curly hair that was both soft and vital at the same time. But the hair, profuse as it was, didn't obscure a thing, just highlighting the virtues of my pussy.

Starting near my asshole, a slit, with glistening lips, curved upward towards the lower part of my belly. I looked at my pussy-lips and touched them with wonder, feeling them pulse under my fingers. I knew that in some women the pussy-lips were thin, and the cunt looked like a cut in swollen flesh. But my pussy-lips were thick and fleshy, and when cunt juice spilled from inside of me, as it did now, they looked like they were drooling the way a baby's mouth does.

I pulled the outer lips of my cunt open. The inside of my pussy was smooth and meaty, almost pulpy. It looked like the inside of a mouth. At the top of the mouth of my cunt was a little button of pink flesh. My clit. It was small, but noticeably stiff and sticking out, protruding from the top of my frothing slit like a miniature prick. I was so horny that I wished it were a real cock growing out of me so I could feverishly grab ahold of it and stuff it into my cunt and fuck myself.

I continued to examine and manipulate myself, feeling lewder by the moment. I pulled the lips of my pussy even further apart and peered into the reflection of their pared opening in the mirror.

The soft red interior of my cunt sloped down and inward from the hole out of which I peed to a hole near the bottom of the slit. I shuddered as I worked my finger into my fucking canal, knowing that it could take anything from a pinkie-finger to a 26-ounce Seven-Up bottle, something I'd tried more than once when I was starting to grow up and experiment with my body.

As I gazed hornily at myself it struck me how close my fuck-hole was to my bung. Shoving my finger farther up my cunt, I added another one up my asshole, and when I pinched them I could feel them touching through the thin, membranous partition.

The inside of my cunt was always moist, but when I was turned on like I was now, it was like a swamp. The sound of the squishing inside my box was so loud that it almost drowned out the moans of ecstasy coming from my mouth.

I guess the combination of my panting and the slurping of my pussy is what kept me from hearing the footsteps. It was easy for him to come into the apartment without being heard, because, after all, I had left the door open and he could just walk in. Anyway, I was very busy.

I didn't notice him until up in the corner of the mirror I saw his face, the rest of the mirror being taken up by the image of my steaming cunt.

Should I have been embarrassed? I don't know. How can you think of something like that when you're on the verge of coming, when all you've got on your mind is coming?

It wasn't until he cleared his throat that it really hit me that someone was in the apartment with me. When it finally occurred to me, I closed my legs like a vise, capturing my still probing hand between my throbbing thighs. I used my free hand to cover myself with the sheet, and was grateful that I had been too lazy to make the bed yet.

He had backed out of the bedroom by now and said from the living room, "Mrs. O'Brien, I'd like to talk to you if you, ahem, have the time."

"Sure, sure," I said nervously. "Just give me a minute to get dressed."

I reached over the edge of the bed and found my robe on the floor and put it on while I was still under the sheets, as if I were the most modest creature in the world. Here this strange man had just seen me getting myself off in front of the mirror, and now we were both going to pretend that nobody had seen or done anything.

When I had my robe on and buttoned, I got out of bed and went into the living room. The man waiting there was middle-aged and not bad-looking in a square sort of way. He was dressed in a suit, something you never saw in the projects, with one exception.

"I'm Mr. Collins from the Housing Authority," he said.

He didn't have to tell me where he was from. I'd figured it out the minute I'd seen he was wearing a suit.

"What can I do for you?" I said, trying to sound like I was in control enough of the situation that we could both put what he had seen in the bedroom behind us. At least at the moment that's what I thought I wanted.

"Well, frankly, Mrs. O'Brien, we've had a complaint against you. I want to give you a chance to explain the accusations against you, because, as you know, if we determine that a complaint is valid, it goes on your record as points against you. And if your record shows an excess of points against you, then I'm afraid you'll have to move."

What a stiff, I thought. Maybe I didn't want him to behave as if nothing had happened, after all. I didn't expect him to chase me around the room, but I felt a little let down that he didn't seem at least a little steamed up from walking in on me and seeing all I had.

What I actually said, though, was, "So what'd I do?" Then I walked over and sat down on the couch.

He was still standing and said, "It's the refuse containers, Mrs. O'Brien. You've been putting beer cans in them," he said gravely as if he had just accused me of a class-A felony. N

"Well, they're trash, aren't they?" I replied, I thought sensibly.

"Theoretically, yes, they are," he said. "However, as you should be aware, we do not allow them to be thrown in a loose, uncontained fashion into the project refuse containers."

"I don't understand," I said, trying to avoid trouble.

"The Housing Authority feels that it gives the projects and the people who live in them a bad name if the refuse containers are filled with alcoholic beverage containers."

My restraint wasn't going to hold out. "Why? Are you afraid the garbage men are going to talk behind our backs?" I blurted out. "Lemme tell you something, my old man's a garbage man himself, and I guarantee you he doesn't give a shit how much beer anybody drinks. Probably because nobody drinks more of it than he does. I mean, my God, where do you suppose those beer cans I'm putting in the trash cans are coming from? My kids aren't drinking them."

"Now, Mrs. O'Brien, you'll have to watch your language, please,"

"Jesus Christ!"

"I'll pretend I didn't hear that."

"If there's something wrong with your ears, then try this," I cried angrily as I stood up defiantly and thrust out my hand, flipping him the finger.

"Mrs. O'Brien, really," he huffed. "It's people like you who give the projects a bad name."

"What gives the projects a bad name is that living here is like being in prison," I retorted, giving vent to feelings that had been stored up in me for some time.

"If that's the way you feel, then I'm sure we can arrange to have you and your family ... uh ... shall we say, released," Mr. Collins said as though he were the warden of the prison I was talking about.

"That'd be just peachy with me!" I screamed without thinking. "Do I get a new suit and a five-dollar bill?"

Then, suddenly, it hit me. If he kicked us out, where would we go? Sure, if it were just me, on my own, I'd have been out of this dump a long time ago. But there were four of us, and two of them were children. Where would we find the money to move?

"Ah ... look ... look, Mr. Collins," I stammered, sitting back down in a heap, not even bothering to make sure my robe concealed my upper thighs. "I guess I just got excited and said a lot of things I don't mean. I'm sorry. Give me a break, huh?"

"I don't know," he said sternly, like a priest you've just stunned with something really rotten at confession.

"We're just poor working people trying to get by," I tried to explain to him. "I mean, we're not perfect, but we're trying as hard as we can. My husband's got a job. I mean we're not on welfare or anything."

"Then that's all the more reason you should keep a civil tongue in your head," he said, his voice dripping with superiority. "You should know better if you claim you're not riff-raff."

"You know how it is," I lamely said, shrugging my shoulders.

"How would it be if everyone talked to Housing Authority officials the way you have?" he lectured me. "It would be chaos. Anarchy!"

"Look," I pleaded, "what can I do?"

I held my hands out, begging him to go easy. And as I did so, I leaned forward, unintentionally causing the hem of my robe to ride up even more on my thighs.

I wasn't aware of what was going on at first. But when I saw the expression on his face, and then took a quick glimpse down at how exposed I was, I realized that he was looking at my cunt.

I looked up from my lap, but instead of returning my eyes to his reddening face, I looked straight ahead. At his fly. There was no question about it; it was bulging. His dick was hard under there, and I had made it that way.

All of a sudden, the ugly conversation we had just had faded from my head. My mind skipped back to the wantonness I had been experiencing when he had come upon me in the bedroom. Only now it was abruptly even more intense than it had been when I was writhing on the bed because the last piece of the puzzle was available: a cock! A hot, throbbing cock that was obviously straining to get free of its restraints and plunge into something soft, warm, and hairy.

And, believe me, at that moment the only thing I wanted in the world was that man's prick pounding like a jackhammer in and out of my steaming, lathering pussy.

"Listen," I cooed, "something tells me we can work this out so that we'll both be satisfied. Know what I mean?"

I winked, and very obviously wiggled my hips so the bottom of the robe slid out from under me and bunched loosely around my waist. Just so nothing would be left to chance, I spread my legs and gave him a direct view of my open, sopping pussy. I could feel the lips pull apart with a wet smack as I pulled apart my thighs and gave him a full shot.

He stood there dumbfounded like the village idiot or something. These Housing Authority clowns were really slow, I thought, and realized it was up to me to force the issue to the ultimate. By now he was too turned on to resist, but I was going to have to do all the work. Making sure he still had a perfect view of my throbbing pussy, I leaned forward and ran my hand over the bulge in his pants.

It was working. His cock almost leaped out and tore the fabric. I could feel it straining to be grasped by something with sex written all over it.

I lost no time in pulling down his zipper and reaching inside for his prick. It met my hand immediately. It didn't take much to get it out in the open, and when it was, his cock exceeded my wildest expectation. This guy may have been the biggest square in the world, but that sure didn't stop him from being hung with about the-biggest cock I'd ever seen. The head of it alone seemed to take up at least three inches. And it was solid pink meat. God only knew how much juicy hot sperm was stored up, waiting to fly, in his balls.

Well, maybe God didn't know, but I was determined to find out. I pulled that prick completely out of his pants, balls and all-and they were the size of eggs-and began sucking on it for all I was worth. It was delicious.

Collins was still standing there like a dummy when I wrapped my lips around his cock and pulled it all the way into my throat, but not for long. As hot as I was, I think I could have stuck a dead man's prick into my mouth and done what I was doing to Collins and the corpse would have responded.

Collins began undulating his hips in the classic fucking reflex, sending his prick even deeper into my throat. The contractions of my esophagus and mouth must have felt like a super cunt to him. By the way he started moaning and groaning it was clear that my greedy, sucking mouth, my voracious tongue, and my nibbling teeth were the best things that had ever happened to his cock. And what a shame he had to wait until now, with the kind of tool he had.

The head of his cock was ramming into my throat now like a pile driver. I knew for sure that I was going to have one hell of a sore throat tomorrow, but this was worth it. However, as succulent as the taste of his monster prick was in my sucking mouth, I had been starved for sex too long to pass up what I really wanted. And that was a brutal, hot fuck thrown in me. A cock pounding between my legs so that it wrung my pussy practically inside out.

I removed his twitching rod from my mouth, moving my lips and tongue over the head of it with one last soggy caress.' I continued to rub its shaft with my hands while I positioned the lower part of my body so he would have no doubt as to what I wanted him to do to me next.

I spread my legs so far apart I could feel a gush of molten cream escape out of the bottom of my cunt. The skin between my legs stretched so much that it stung, but I knew that my pussy would have to be like a tunnel to accommodate the giant prick vibrating in my hands.

I reached up with my parted legs and hooked my ankles around his waist and pulled him down towards me. He was still mute, but now was overcome not by embarrassment but by lust. Why else would he have fallen forward so readily and buried his head in my tits after ripping open the top of my robe with his rough hands?

I guided his prick into my boiling cunt and felt it slip into the gooey canal to its hilt, his massive balls pounding against the upturned cheeks of my ass.

From the position in which we were fucking, with, my legs now locked over his shoulders and my back on the couch, I could look at my crotch and see everything. His huge, long prick made luscious slurping noises as it glided in and out of my lathering, clutching hole. My cunt throbbed in rhythm with his maddening strokes as I met his every thrust with one of my own, our pelvises grinding together, his pubic hair scratching sensuously against my screamingly erect clit.

I had been waiting so long for something like this I couldn't contain my excitement. "Fuck me! Fuck me harder!" I cried in passion. "Stick that big prick in me! All the way! More! MORE!"

One thing about Mr. Collins, he did as he was told. I guess that came from his training working as a flunky for the Housing Authority: Do what you're told and don't make waves. Except that he was making waves. Big, rippling waves that pounded through my body, causing my steaming, twitching groin to collide repeatedly with his as we ground each other into a state of unparalleled, lustful frenzy.

Then it happened. It started somewhere in the recesses of my cunt and then spread throughout the center of my body. It felt like I had been shot between the legs by a high-powered bullet and that I was going into convulsions. But the high-powered bullet was in reality a ten-inch cock that was reaming me out. Yes, I was coming!

How long had it been? Weeks, maybe months, I guess. Because even when Eddie fucked me, nothing usually happened to me any more. He just climbed on top of me, grunted a few times, shot his wad, and rolled over and went to sleep; he probably didn't even remember it the next day. As for me, I wound up being more aware of his big belly on top of me than his cock inside of me.

But this? My God! This guy's prick was up so high and hard and tight inside, of me that I could feel it ramming away at the end of my cunt, fighting to invade my womb and totally fill my body with its sheer, pulsating power. I could feel it going higher and higher into me as the wave spasms started taking over my body and the concentric rings of orgasm overtook me.

Never had I been so grateful that a woman can come more than once without resting, that I was capable of coming repeatedly. Because that's what was happening now. It seemed as though all the orgasms I had missed out on over the past months were happening to me at once. But I knew, as great as each successive one was, the ultimate thrill was yet to happen.

I could have come all day the way I was being fucked, but the crowning glory would only occur when I had all of his cock trapped inside of me and brought him to the ultimate, and that meant an onslaught of steaming, sticky sperm sloshing around in my cunt, coating my insides. Each orgasmic spasm was just a step to that pinnacle, and finally I could sense that we were on the verge of it.

If possible, his enormous tool stiffened inside of my hole even more, distending my cunt with its swollen fury. The steel-hard shaft coursed with maddening friction between the slimy clenched lips of my cunt, pulling them in and then out, in and out. Then, as his dick hardened to the ultimate, he drove it into me like a golden spike and filled the room with a cry that sounded like a wounded animal.

Instantly I could feel the thick discharge of jizz spurting up my twat. Never had I felt a load of cum that was so copious and hot. It seemed to be boiling. The sensation of all that molten sperm taking over the cavern of my pussy drove me wild, the muscles in my body becoming like taut springs as I wrapped my legs around him as though I were a professional wrestler.

Maddening pleasure coursed through me like an electric current, the high voltage from his cock searing through the outlet of my supercharged pussy. Ecstasy bathed me and racked my body. The springs in my body tightened even further, and then, suddenly, snapped. It was over. He had stopped pumping. He was spent and I was bathed in the sensual afterglow of a perfect fuck.

He pulled his prick out of me and I looked down and saw that it was starting to subside. It was beet red from the violent clenching and stimulation from my tight cunt. It glistened from being bathed in its own creamy discharge.

I looked down between my legs and gazed dreamily at my spent pussy. It gaped open, a red, frothing, hairy gash, the lips hanging in exhaustion, a steady stream of milky jizz lazily drooling out of my throbbing crack.

After a few moments of loving appreciation of my cunt that had served me so well, I looked up at the man who had given me what I wanted when I needed it the most. I was so grateful I would have agreed to anything he wanted at that point, even putting Eddie's beer cans where they were supposed to go.

But Collins was back to being a bureaucrat from the Housing Authority again. He looked flustered and embarrassed as he hurriedly stuffed his now crumpled dick back into his pants. I suddenly felt the way I would've if I had seduced a choir boy.

He started clearing his throat once he had his cock completely back inside his pants and his fly zipped, and smoothed out the wrinkles in his clothing. It was such a turn-off I abruptly sat up, closing my thighs tightly on my squishing box, and pulling my robe down over my legs.

He finally spoke. "Now, Mrs. O'Brien, about your unauthorized use of the refuse containers."

The bastard! He was going to pretend none of it had happened. I was stunned.

"I could just give you a warning," he continued, "but I'm afraid that wouldn't be fair to either of us because it wouldn't have the effect on you that we desire. Therefore, I'm going to enter ten points against you on your housing record so you'll realize that we mean what we say and obey the rules. Believe me, I'm only doing this for your own good. You'll thank me later."

The turd!

"Listen, buster," I hissed at him, "you can pretend that nothing happened in here today. You can even drive it out of your mind. But there's one memory of it you're going to have a lot of trouble getting rid of."

He looked at me as if I were from outer space.

"The cum stain on your pants," I pointed out triumphantly. "What're you going to do about that, Mr. Collins?"

He cleared his throat again, and acted as though we were actually carrying on the same conversation, saying, "I told you what I'm going to do, Mrs. O'Brien. I'm going to enter ten points on your housing record. And you're fortunate to get off so easily. As for the unauthorized refuse ... the, uh, beer cans ... I suggest you find a way to dispose of them separately. Or give up consuming so much beer, which might be the more advisable alternative if you wish to remain a tenant in good standing."

"How about if I just dump them in some other apartment's trash cans?" I challenged him.

"I wouldn't advise that," he said ominously. "We have people watching. I'm going now, Mrs. O'Brien," he said. "I don't think there's anything further to be said at this point. Now, you just remember, we'll be watching you. And Mrs. O'Brien ...."

"Yes?"

"Please try harder to be a good citizen."

The second he was out the door I slammed it behind him and stormed into the kitchen and ripped open the refrigerator looked for some of Eddie's beer. I drank four cans of it in twenty minutes. Enough until I was high enough to stop shaking.

CHAPTER TWO

Boy, what a dope I was if I thought getting fucked would really change anything. First of all, that son of a bitch Collins had wound up putting ten points against us on our housing record, and, as if that wasn't enough, now I had to dream up something to do with the damn beer cans.

After he had finished screwing me, that prick Collins, with all his damn snotty Housing Authority superiority, had managed to destroy whatever inner contentment I had felt, and had reduced me to the same nervous wreck I had been before I ever saw that ten inches of cock pointing from between his legs.

To make it worse, when Eddie came home, he was in an even shittier mood than usual, especially when he found out I had drunk two-thirds of his last six-pack and he was going to have to go get some more.

Then, if that wasn't enough, when the kids finally dragged themselves into the apartment, I could see right away that my ten-year-old, Janie, was sick. Her face was flushed, her nose running, and when I put my hand on her forehead it was obvious she had a fever.

That meant she would have to stay home from school tomorrow and I'd have to take care of her.

It wasn't of course that I don't love Janie. But right now I didn't feel up to taking care of anybody else. I was having enough trouble keeping myself together.

The final straw came when Eddie got back from the grocery store. My nerves were shot from trying to control the kids. My nerves were shot from trying each other as usual, and when I got a whiff of Eddie, I felt my anger rising.

He smelled like garbage as he sat there stinking up the kitchen, but as usual showed no inclination to do anything about it. All of his other faults weren't bad enough; he had to be a garbage man who refused to bathe more than once a week. Why, I thought, on top of everything else, do I have to put up with the place where I live smelling like the inside of a garbage can because my husband's too lazy to take a bath?

So I just came out and said what I thought, something I almost never do. "Hey, Eddie," I erupted, "why don't you take a bath?"

That did it. Within minutes we were screaming at each other at the top of our lungs, calling each other names and insulting each other in every way possible. Something had to give, and something finally did.

Crack! He caught me right across the mouth with his open hand. If he'd used his fist, I'd have been at the dentist's the next morning getting fitted for a set of dentures.

I could feel the warm salty taste of blood well in my mouth as his blow drove me to the floor. "Tough, Eddie, tough, that's what you are," I hissed through my blood-smeared mouth. "That's why you beat up women. And brilliant. That's why you drive a garbage truck. And always will, unless they fire you for being too smart for the job."

"No, you're wrong, you're wrong. I gotta be a dummy or I wouldn't be stuck with a cunt like you!" he screamed at me and tried to kick me while I was still down.

I grabbed ahold of his thrusting foot and twisted it with all my strength. He tipped over to the side and fell with a thud to the floor. While he was fumbling around in surprise, I got to my feet and ran across the living room, determined to get the hell out of there. I opened the door and dashed out into the hall.

In the hall I raced for the stairway, so charged up to get out of the place that I didn't notice the nine flights.

When I got to the bottom, I snuck out the laundry entrance to avoid running into Eddie if he had somehow caught the elevator and beaten me downstairs. I was determined that I wasn't going back to that hell-on-earth until later when I was sure that the big tub of guts was finally conked out.

The only problem was what I was going to do until then. I didn't have any money with me, or any transportation. Since I was in the projects, I was equidistant from everywhere; in other words, in the middle of nowhere.

If I tried walking around, I'd be taking my life in my hands because it was well-known that there was no more dangerous place to be at night than on the streets of the projects.

After thinking about it for a while, I decided that I'd rather take my chances with whoever might be roaming around in the dark outside than going back up to the apartment and confronting Eddie. The way I looked at, there was a chance something might happen to me outside, but inside it was a certainty I'd get the shit beat out of me.

I walked around aimlessly, trying to find something that would draw my interest. There was nothing of course. I walked close to the buildings, and eventually found myself by the northern building.

I got bored walking in front of the buildings, so for a change I decided to go around in back of the northern building. There was nothing back there except for weeds, but at least it was something different.

As I sort of half walked and half stumbled along the unfamiliar terrain, I noticed that there were a few lights on the ground floor of the building. As bored as I was, my curiosity as to what was going on inside was naturally stimulated. Then, when I accidentally fell, and came up in front of one of the lighted windows, my interest was even more heightened.

I didn't look through the window on purpose at first. It was just there when I picked myself up after falling. But what I saw, accidentally at first, kept my eyes riveted purposefully to what was going on inside.

A boy, apparently in his early teens, was sitting on the toilet. But he wasn't using it for what it was intended because the seat was down. I could see his pants and underpants where he had thrown them on the floor as he sat there nude from the waist down, wearing only a thin T-shirt on top.

Should I have been turned on by a thirteen-or fourteen-year-old boy? Would I have normally been?

I don't know. But the way I had been feeling lately made me a sucker for it right now.

It had been years since I had seen a young boy on the brink of manhood without any clothes on. My older brother was probably the last one, and I hadn't had quite the interests I had now when I'd seen him naked.

There was no doubt what the boy sitting on the toilet was up to. His young, thin cock was standing straight out like a graceful pole, the way they only can when they're that young and so full of energy.

He had one hand cradling his young balls, while the other one elaborately stroked the long pink shaft of his prick. I had never actually seen a male, man or boy, jack off, and to say that I was excited would be an understatement. I felt an intense throbbing between my legs that must have been almost as much as the boy inside was experiencing as his hips undulated from the manipulation of his cock.

I studied his body, lustfully noticing the brief patch of pubic hair just at the root of his prick and the smooth skin everyplace else. There was no way I couldn't help imagine what it would be like to have that wholesome-looking tool shoved up my cunt.

There was something so innocent about a young boy sitting in the bathroom beating his meat while his parents were probably in the next room watching television. I wondered what he would do once he finally came-how he would dispose of the sperm-and how much of it there would be.

I soon got my answer. His hips started bucking even more uncontrollably as he accelerated his stroking, his fingers now going from his balls all the way over the head of his cock and back down again, his other hand squeezing his balls. I thought I could hear him moan as his prick shot up in the air and a cascade of milky jizz spurted at least six inches in the air from the knob.

After a few more spasms he sat there exhausted on the toilet seat and caught his breath. Then I distinctly heard a voice calling to him from the other side of the bathroom door. "Jerry," was the name it seemed to be saying. It sounded like a woman's voice. It must have been his mother wanting to know what he was doing in there.

The boy quickly withdrew his hand from his spent prick and jumped up and grabbed for his pants, frantically trying to wipe the cum off his legs with a towel before he buttoned them.

He didn't have a chance to finish before she barged in on him. She didn't have to be very intelligent to figure out what was going on. The evidence was all over the place. He still didn't have his pants completely buttoned,' he still had a towel with sperm on it in his hand, and his underwear was still wadded on the floor.

"You ... you little pervert!" she screamed at him. She slapped him across the face and hauled him out of the bathroom, yelling, "Your father will want to hear about this!"

I looked at the now empty bathroom sadly. It didn't seem fair; it didn't make sense. Here he'd been alone in the bathroom, not bothering anyone, giving himself some innocent pleasure. Before his mother took it into her head to invade his privacy, his parents had probably been watching some crime show on television where people were killing and torturing each other right and left, and enjoying every minute of it. Yet, the boy was the one whose actions were disapproved of. No, it didn't make sense to me.

I averted my gaze from the bathroom window and started to resume my lonely walk, more depressed than ever. But I never got a chance to take a step.

Suddenly my air was cut off by some powerful force slamming against my windpipe. I started to scream, but all that came out was a gurgle as I fought for breath. Then I was painfully straightened up as my neck was yanked back and a knee shoved painfully into the small of my back, arching my body as though I had just been caught in a trap.

"Okay, bitch," a rough voice growled hotly into my ear. "Is this gonna be easy for both of us, or are you gonna fight me? Believe me, cunt, one way or the other, I'm gonna enjoy it."

My assailant relaxed his grip around my neck long enough so I could reply. I started to say, "What's this all about?", and then abruptly realized all too well what was going on. The warnings about being out after dark in the projects were coming true for me.

"You're going to rape me, aren't you?" I said incredulously.

I had known the projects at night were dangerous and that any woman who walked alone in them ran the risk of being assaulted, but now that it was happening to me I couldn't bring myself to accept it.

"Please ... please...." I pleaded with my unseen attacker.

"Please what?" he chuckled in an evil laugh. "Please let you go, or please fuck you?"

Even in my terror I paused to reflect how unbelievable it was that a man like this could suggest that his victim would actually welcome his cock.

"Please let me go, please let me go," I begged.

"Sure, cunt, sure," he said. "After, of course, I've rammed my prick up into your guts and come all over your face."

There were no words after that. He spun me around, and as I turned to face him, clipped me in the jaw with a right-hand punch. It didn't drive me into unconsciousness, just made me woozy enough so that I couldn't fight back.

He pushed me to the ground, the dirt scraping my elbows. Looming over me, he unloosened his pants and let them drop, revealing an enormous shaft of a prick emerging in a throbbing column from a thatch of dark, unruly hair, the end of his cock an angry red knob obviously bent on destruction.

He fondled his dick as he hovered over me, his prick seeming to grow even bigger under his prodding. In my mind I could see it tearing into my defenseless cunt and ripping me apart.

I lay weak and helpless on my back. So weak and terrified was I that the only defense I could think of was to draw my legs together, forcing my knees against each other as hard as I could.

But it did no good. He separated my legs with a kick to my knees, splaying them, and sending my cotton house dress up to my hips during the action.

I moaned in agony and fear as I lay back with my legs parted. I could feel the cool night air mottling my thighs, which were bare and shaking. My crotch was covered only by the thin fabric of my panties, and I could feel the mouth of my cunt straining against the flimsy covering.

Although still conscious, I seemed to lose all voluntary control of my body, and felt my pussy suddenly dampening with hot, moist juice which drenched my panties and ran onto my inner thighs.

As I stared transfixed at the enormous cock pulsating ominously above me, I could feel the nipples of my tits, as though they had a mind of their own, become erect as marbles and chafe against the inside of my bra.

My assailant moved towards me. He leaned over and grabbed the hem of my dress and roughly pulled it over my hips, binding my torso. Leaving the dress in a position so my hands and arms and head were covered, he began to work fast.

With the dress pulled up so far, my bra was completely visible, my tits swelling involuntarily underneath it, the erect nipples making hard points on the outside of the cups. He grabbed the bra-by the elastic between my tits and tore it off. My boobs fell free, the night air caressing my pulsating nipples. His hands roughly squeezed my tits, and then he lowered his head and began wetly lapping them with his rough tongue, his hot breath inundating my upper body and making me perspire.

Despite the indignity of the ordeal I was enduring, a curious sensation started to occur which I could neither deny nor thwart. As he roughly handled me, I found my sensual reactions coming dramatically into play. While he lapped at my tits, I could feel shivers pulse through my body I in waves which came in cycles about every ten or fifteen seconds.

Now he was down rolling on the ground with me, which should have been painful considering the rough earth. But the only thing I felt was a flame in my tits and a clenching tightness in my cunt which was accompanied by a rush of sticky warm discharge that flowed from the inner depths of my pussy.

And then, as his wet lips and poking tongue bathed my burning hippies, he slid down entirely between my open legs and I could feel that monster cock of his rubbing and jabbing against my bubbling pussy through the saturated crotch of my panties.

As he continued working on my tits, I could feel his powerful fingers move urgently beneath the flimsy panty crotch, his knuckles creating the most maddening friction against the drooling lips of my cunt, working their way through the matted, moist pussy hair and pushing against the naked swollen lips of my throbbing snatch. Without thinking, I squeezed my thighs, capturing his probing hand in the inferno of my cunt.

Abruptly his strong fingers encircled the gooey crotch of my panties, and ripped the cloth to shreds. Now my gaping, oozing cunt was fully exposed, which just seemed to make it pulse and froth more.

My attacker lifted his head from between my tits and looked down at me, and then at his own twitching cock. What did he look like? I didn't know; by now my eyes were riveted only on that massive, quivering prick.

Stiff and hard he held his cock in his hand, and guided it between my legs, ramming it in my cunt to the hilt so I could feel the mat of his pubic hair rubbing against the top of my box.

Suddenly some portion of my senses seemed to come back to me and told me I should be resisting more. I wanted to scream, but couldn't find my voice. I wanted to shove him off, but my arms were entangled in my dress. I attempted to inch away from the sensation of the alien cock pile driving inside my cunt, but my efforts only seemed to drive it deeper into me, so deep now that his balls were pressed like hot coals against my asshole, my legs now sticking straight up in the air as he fucked me with his unrelenting cock unmercifully.

Suddenly I could feel something overpowering inside of me that was more than just the jackhammering cock pounding in my cunt. It was a feeling that started in the depths of my pussy, and then began spreading from that undefined point in all directions to the other parts of my body. It was the feeling I had had when I was twelve years old when I had first started to notice that I was becoming a woman and had locked myself in the bedroom-and had spread my legs and looked at the pared lips of my pussy in the mirror; the feeling that had occurred when I had begun rubbing the inviting lips and then the little button at the top of my pussy where the hair was just starting to grow, the button I later learned was called the clitoris. It was the same feeling I had been trying to capture this afternoon in the same position I had discovered fifteen years ago, when I was spread-eagled before the mirror and Collins had walked in on me.

"My God," I said thickly into the shoulder of my grunting assailant, "I'm coming."

The feeling enveloped me and I had no alternative but to wrap my legs around him and shove my pelvis into his as hard as I could, clenching my pussy muscles like a vise around his rampaging cock.

Then, without warning, he was pulling his cock out just as I was getting ready for him to explode inside me, imagining the creamy, hot sperm bathing the walls of my pulsating cunt. Instead, he used one hand to rip the thin cotton dress from around me, exposing the lower part of my face. His other hand grabbed ahold of his swollen, angry-looking prick and thrust into my face. My mouth flew open in astonishment, giving him the opportunity to ram the monster cock between my lips and all the way into my throat.

I gagged and fought for breath as he began grinding away against my face, literally fucking me in the mouth, the jungle of his pubic hair rubbing against my eyes and nose, his steaming balls pressed against my lower lip and chin.

When he came, my mouth couldn't hold the volume of his apparently endless supply of sperm in addition to his huge prick. As spurt after spurt of jizz exploded from the end of his dick, that which didn't slide hotly down my throat gurgled out of the corners of my mouth, dripping from my chin and spattering my tits.

And, then, as quickly as it started, it was over. Finally finished coming, just after I had convinced myself he had an infinite supply of cum and would shoot off forever, my attacker withdrew his spent cock from my bubbling, gurgling mouth. He got up and pulled up his pants and disappeared into the night, leaving me lying there, my face sticky with sperm, the night air drying it into taut patches on my skin.

CHAPTER THREE

After lying in a heap on the ground for an indeterminate length of time, I finally got up, rearranged my torn clothing as best I could, and walked, trying to keep from staggering, across the grounds to my own building. I looked blankly at the dingy, defaced wall as I wearily rode the elevator up to the ninth floor with the acrid taste of jism filling my mouth.

What can I say?

It had been a very unsuccessful day. That's for sure.

Well, they were sure right about people prowling around in the projects after dark.

I got out of the elevator, went down the hall, and let myself into the apartment. Everything was just the way I had left it, except of course for some stuff Eddie had dropped on the floor and had been too lazy to pick up, such as eight crumpled empty beer cans.

The lord and master himself was flaked out on the couch, stone cold on his back, his pot belly rising and falling like he was a beached whale.

I went into the bathroom and took off my torn clothing and threw it in a heap on the floor. Naked, I inspected myself for bruises, and found a few around my tits and between my legs.

Oh, I ached. I felt like I had been beaten up, trampled on, stomped, and fucked by forty Marines, all at the same time.

After I took a bath, I gave myself a little treat. Instead of hauling Eddie into the bedroom, I just let him stay plopped on the couch. It was glorious having the bed to myself. Especially since, even though I was dog-tired, I changed the sheets so there wouldn't be a trace of Eddie's garbage smell.

Would you believe that after all that had happened to me, I slept like a top?

Of course the next morning I quickly discovered that the rat race hadn't been called off. Eddie saw to that by screaming at me about six inches from my ear that I was a rotten bitch and not good enough to be married to him; he ought to teach me a lesson by beating the shit out of me, but he didn't want to be late for work.

That was my introduction to the day.

Then, in rapid succession, I heard Johnny, my twelve-year-old, breaking something in the kitchen-I knew it was him because I heard him screaming, "Goddamn this fucking place," just like his father-and Janie crying from her bedroom.

That's right, I thought, Janie was sick last night. She'll have to stay home from school today. I'm going to have to take care of her.

Figuring I might as well get up rather than hope futilely for any peace and quiet, I pulled myself out from under the covers and sat on the edge of the bed. The pain in my body had settled in my chest where my tits had been manhandled, and in my cunt where I had been rammed repeatedly.

I got Johnny off to school, then went into the bedroom to see how my little girl was doing.

I could see it wasn't too bad-just a cold-and I promised Janie I'd play with her all day.

It wasn't such a bad idea at that. I wouldn't mind being ten again. Lately, I'd thought a lot that I'd like to start over. Anyway, it was kind of nice to have some company.

When we were finished playing cards after breakfast, I asked Janie what she wanted to do now, and she asked me to bring over her doll. I did as she asked, along with a miniature trunk full of the doll's clothing.

Janie opened the trunk and laid the clothes out on top of the bed and said, "Now how do you think we should dress her?"

"Well, this looks nice," I said, pointing to a blue dress, thinking, with a touch of irony, that Janie's doll had better looking clothes than Janie's mother did. Oh, well, the doll wasn't married to a garbage-man doll.

We'd finally selected the clothes the doll was going to change into, when Janie said, "Oh, we forgot one thing."

"What's that, sweetheart?" I asked.

"Her underwear."

Sure enough, there was underwear for the doll in the bottom of the trunk.

Janie selected a pair of pale-green panties and a bra before she got to work undressing the doll so we could change it into the fresh clothing.

When the doll was nude, I looked with curiosity at how the manufacturer had shaped it. There were small suggestions of breasts, although no marks had been made to indicate nipples. There was no belly button, and between the legs there was nothing. I was wondering to myself if Janie, at ten, had ever noticed how this doll was different than real people, when Janie spoke up and answered my question for me.

"Mommy, why doesn't this doll have hair between her legs the way you do?" she asked.

I think it was the first question about sex she'd ever asked me. "It's just a doll, honey," I said vaguely.

"But she's supposed to be real," she said emphatically. "She's got clothes that're supposed to be real, eyes, hair-but she doesn't have hair between her legs. How come, Mommy?"

"Well...." I struggled, "maybe ... maybe it's not supposed to be a grown-up doll."

"Then why do grown-ups have hair between their legs and kids don't?" she asked, and before I could answer, added: "And why do boys have that thing between their legs and we don't have anything?"

It was apparent that this had gone too far for me to get off with a joke or changing the subject. "Would you like to dress your doll a little bit later and have me tell you about what you're asking now?" I said.

"Yes, yes," she said, her little face lighting up. "But I don't want you to just tell me. I want you to show me. I wanna see."

"Oh, well, then I can use the doll to show you," I improvised.

"No, no," she said definitely. "The doll doesn't have anything on her that I wanna see."

"Then what do you mean?" I wondered.

"Gee, Mommy, I thought we could do like we do at school.. You know, you could show me the different things you have on your body. Then I could really see. It would be real, not like on some dumb old doll."

"Well, I ... I...." I stammered, not knowing how to cope with what seemed to be her bold but obviously sincere suggestion.

If I said no, she might get the idea that the human body was dirty somehow. Maybe my first shocked reaction to her suggestion was just based on my own uptight interpretation. To her, it probably seemed like the most natural thing in the world to ask. If I said no, what kind of negative impression might she get about her body?

So, reluctantly, after thinking about it for a few anxious moments, I said, "All right, I don't suppose it can hurt anything. I'll go into the bathroom and, uh, change, and be right back ... in my robe."

"No, no, Mommy," she said. "I wanna see you do it right here."

I got up off the bed and walked to the center of the room. For some reason I turned my back to her as I looked down and unbuttoned the blouse I was wearing, then untucked it and took it off.

I still was facing away from Janie as I stood there in my jeans that I had thrown on when I got up this morning and my bra. Which should I take off first? I thought. Finally, I unbuttoned the pants and let them fall slowly to the floor, stepping out of them so that I was standing in my bra and panties.

After a few seconds of hesitation, I reached my arms around my back, unhooked my bra, and then pulled it off, looking down at my tits as they spilled free.

For some reason I closed my eyes as I pushed my panties down, feeling the elastic pulling against my skin as I worked them down my legs. I bent forward and removed them from my ankles, straightened up, and opened my eyes and looked down at my naked body. It seemed odd to be doing this, as though it were the first time I had ever been undressed, but it was too late to speculate on it.

I turned around towards Janie, trying to sound natural by saying, "Well, here I am," and practically swallowed my words.

To my surprise, there was Janie sitting on the bed completely nude.

From looking at the expression on her face, it was obvious that she thought both of us taking off our clothes was the most logical thing in the world. And having gone this far with the project, I didn't want to upset her, so I said nothing that indicated my surprise.

"Now where would you like me to start, darling?" I said, coming to the bed.

She reached out for my tits, actually touching my nipples with the tips of her fingers. A chill swept through my body as her fingers lightly took ahold of them, and I could feel them suddenly harden as she asked, "Where did you get these, Mommy?"

"I was born with them," I said hesitantly.

"No you weren't, or I'd have some, too," she said. "I know where you got them."

"Where, smartie?" I said.

"You got them at Sears."

I looked at her to see if she had a straight face, and she looked at me as though her serious expression was made of granite. And then suddenly, the corners of her mouth started to wobble, and she broke up with laughter.

Her laughter made me feel miraculously at ease, the way only a child's unaffected joy can.

"I know you didn't get them at Sears, Mommy, and I even know what they're called," she said, still giggling.

"What?" I asked.

"Titties," she said triumphantly.

"Where did you hear that?" I asked, trying to conceal my amusement at her precociousness.

"From Johnny. He told me all about them."

"Just what did he tell you?"

"He told me that if you rub them, it gets a woman all hot."

That shocked me. I was going to have to have a talk with Johnny. Where was he hearing things like that?

Who am I trying to kid? It'd be unusual if he didn't know about things like that. That's the projects, you learn quick.

While I was still thinking about what I should say to Johnny, Janie asked me, "Is that true? If somebody rubs them, does it make you hot?"

And then the most astonishing thing happened, something I didn't know how to cope with. While I was fumbling in my mind for an answer, she actually began to rub my tits, massaging her palms over my already erect nipples.

All of a sudden my search for a reply became lost in an electric feeling that pulsed through my body. The effect of her busy little fingers on my tits seemed to take priority over the uncertainty I felt.

"Oh, Mommy," she said in innocent wonder. "Those buttons on the ends of your titties are getting hard. What're they called?"

"My nipples, sweetheart," I said matter-of-factly as she accelerated her fondling.

"Is this what being hot is, Mommy," she said, "getting your nipples all stiff?"

"Um, sort of," I muttered.

"Could you do that to me?" she said. "What would happen if you did? Would my titties grow as big as yours if you did?"

"No, I'm afraid you'll have to wait until you're older before you have them," I said.

"Well, then I know what feels good right now," she said, removing her hands from my tits and dropping them into her lap.

"What's that?" I asked.

"This," she said, anxious to show me her discovery.

She parted her legs, revealing the bare slit-between her chubby thighs, and thrust her hand into her crotch and began manipulating herself. I was astounded as I saw her not only rub her cunt, but stick one of her fingers into the tiny gash and begin probing.

"What's the matter, Mommy?" she said. "Your mouth is open."

"Where did you learn that?" I asked, trying not to upset her by appearing too shocked.

"Some girls showed it to me in the bathroom at school. I love it. I do it to myself every night. Sometimes I do it to my doll, but it feels better if I do it to myself. Do you ever do this to yourself, Mommy?"

"Well, I ... I...." I stuttered, completely at a loss as to where to take this from here.

"It must be a lot different for you," she said. "What you have between your legs seems so different than mine. Can I see it?"

"I guess so," I agreed, deciding it would be okay if it would stop her from sitting there and masturbating in front of me.

She peered down at my crotch and said, "Spread your legs, Mommy, so I can see what's down there."

I sat on the edge of the bed and parted my knees. She climbed down off the bed and got down on her knees and peered between my open thighs, looking at what was between my legs with wide-eyed wonder.

What must that hairy gash have looked like to her? I wondered as I sat there if she would be terrified looking at something that seemed so different than what she had in the same place.

Never have I been so conscious of my pussy. As my ten-year-old daughter looked at my cunt in awe, it awed me, too, seeming to take over my entire body, obscuring everything else. I closed my eyes to help me cope with the unbelievable awkwardness of the situation, and, as I did so, in my mind my pussy felt like it was growing bigger and bigger until every vein in it seemed to be pulsing like a fire hose.

Then, uncontrollably, I could feel a moist rush between my legs as though my crotch had suddenly been immersed in warm water.

"Mommy, Mommy, it's getting all wet!"

My God, I was creaming in front of my own daughter!

But before I could think of what to do, she seized the initiative by reaching between my thighs and placing her tiny hand on my cunt.

Jesus, it felt good. Her little fingers were so smooth as they explored the sticky folds of my sopping pussy.

"Oh, Mommy, what's this?" she asked as an electric sensation abruptly shot through me.

There was no doubt about which part of my cunt she had discovered.

"That ... that's called my clitoris," I said, just finishing the sentence before she touched it again, sending another thrill through me, and then began working it with maddening friction between her fingers.

"Oh, Mommy," she said from the well of my thighs, you're getting my fingers all sticky."

"Uh ... well ... sometimes that happens," I muttered as I was being swept away by the delicious lubrication to which the perpetual motion of her fingers had driven my cunt.

Her fingers became miraculously busier and busier, two or three of them poking inside the drooling crevice of my cunt and thrusting themselves up me, pressing against the walls of my pussy. The sensation of her fingers in my cunt made me so delirious with joy that the rational portion of my thinking vanished, and all of a sudden the only thing I was concerned with was sensuality-pure and simple sex.

My daughter, even though she was only ten, seemed to sense my abandon and craving for the ultimate, possibly from the way my hips and hairy crotch undulated forward in classic fucking motions. In any case, something told her to add to the stimulation she was already providing with her busy little fingers, and before I knew it I could feel her hot face buried between my legs and her wet tongue exploring every crevice and fold of my lathering cunt.

As Janie finger-fucked me and ate my pussy, I could feel my own mouth open greedily, longing to suck something of its own, yearning for the salty, damp taste of sex. My tongue throbbed with hunger, ready to caress something juicy, inundating it with globs of sticky saliva. By this time I didn't care that the other cunt in the room with me was ten years old, I was determined to suck it and eat it, I pulled Janie up off the floor and placed her on my stomach so she could instantly resume eating me out. I had a rear view of her and quickly pulled apart her legs so I could get at that little honey pot of hers. I had seen her little, hairless cunt thousands of times when I had been dressing and undressing her, bathing her, and the rest of a mother's duties, but this was the first time I had ever seen it in a sexual context.

It was beautiful, innocently shining there before me. The lips were not fully developed, so that what showed was a neat little incision right in the center of a tiny pillow of soft, white flesh.

There was not a single hair to detract from or obstruct my view as I tenderly pulled apart her legs and the sides of her cunt and looked at the inside of her virginal slit from its beginning under the rosebud of her asshole to its termination just under her belly. It was a lush pink inside, and, despite her tender age, was as fully lubricated with the sticky discharge of arousal as any grown woman's.

I reached a finger inside her soupy crack and thoroughly inundated it in Janie's sticky goo, and then brought it back to my lips and tasted it. The aroma and the taste were like an aphrodisiac, so pungent was Janie's secretion with the essence of sex.

Meanwhile, Janie continued to devour my own hairy gash, lapping away at it as though it were a new flavor of ice cream. I could feel her little face pressed so deeply into my crotch that her nose and lips had actually worked their way into the sopping slit of my pussy, enabling her to thrust her tongue far up me, like a small prick.

Now I couldn't wait. I felt an uncontrollable urge to taste the confection before me first-hand. I lifted her legs up off me so I could have access to her little cunt while she remained licking and tongue-fucking mine. Holding her like a wheelbarrow, her stiff body held in the air with just her face touching me, buried in my throbbing pussy, I craned my head forward and thrust my mouth against the hairless crevice of her cunt.

My lips squished and slid against the soft meat between her legs until they were centered against her little hole. Greedily, I began gnawing on the sweet-tasting mound, giving Janie her first French-kiss, either above or below the waist.

Her little body stiffened even more than it had been before when I plunged my probing poker of a tongue into her slit, and, as the pleasure made her rigid, she accelerated the action of her own mouth in my grateful, convulsing cunt.

My sucking mouth and probing tongue now began to search excitedly for the crowning jewel of her pussy, her clit. Janie's cunt was now wide open against my mouth, the perimeter of her slit pressing wetly against my lips while my tongue frantically explored her frothing wound for the seat of its ultimate pleasure.

As I worked around the slippery edges and inside the juicy interior of Janie's cunt, I finally found it. It was small and just developing, but a hard little nub nonetheless, and I pantingly pushed my tongue against her tiny clit.

Janie's ass was rolling around in my face, and, when she felt the pressing of my tongue and the suction of my mouth against her tiny button, she went into a frenzied spasm.

Her body shook and her legs stiffened, while at the other end her face pressed even further into the cavern of my greedy, sucking cunt as she passionately licked the palpitating inner walls of my pussy, reaming the creaming froth from my tissues and swallowing it with slurping gulps.

She raised her pelvis as I hungrily devoured her cunt, and then, as her spasms increased, unexpectedly let fly a steaming stream of piss. It surprised me, but only with delight, as I felt the hot yellow liquid gush out while I opened my mouth wide just in time to swallow the golden stream that flew from Janie's completely open pussy.

As the last few drops of Janie's sweet piss dribbled into my mouth, I heard a scream from between my thighs as her tongue shot all the way up my drooling cunt. Her rigid body became as straight as a board, then suddenly went limp as I realized that at ten years old she had experienced a massive orgasm.

From the well of my pussy between my legs I could hear her moaning into the hairy glove of my cunt, "Oh, Mommy, that's better than the bathroom at school." Instantly, I realized that I hadn't been the first person to make her come, but at least I had given her the best.

My own cunt was shuddering on the verge of coming, like a drunk wobbling on a high ledge, a whisker from falling off. Janie, God bless her, seemed to sense this instinctively, and, although she had already come, withdrew her tongue from the interior of my pussy and guided it for one last stab at my engorged, stiff clit. In a matter of a couple of seconds I had fallen off the ledge and was swirling and plunging dizzily through the air, moaning in the ecstasy of a bone-racking climax with the sweet taste of Janie's piss bathing my mouth.

Later, after we had both lain on the bed for a while, our hands resting on each other's spent cunts while we bathed in the afterglow of coming, I got up and went to the bathroom and came back with a towel so we could dry off our pussies. As we each took an end of the towel, and shared it as we wiped off our sopping cunts simultaneously, I looked at Janie and smiled, feeling my heart dance as she smiled back.

"I told you we'd have a good time," I said.

She dropped the towel from between her legs and reached over for me, throwing her arms around me and hugging me. "Oh, Mommy," she beamed, "I love you so much."

CHAPTER FOUR

Of course, if I had contemplated it in advance, the idea of having sex with Janie would have seemed unthinkable to me. However, that was not the way it had happened. It was so spontaneous that shame didn't even occur to me, and, we had worked each other to such lovely results, there was no way in the sensual aftermath to feel anything but good about it. It seemed like the most natural thing in the world had happened between us, on the one hand; and, on the other hand, like being in a fairy tale that had come true.

In any case, it brought us closer together than ever, and we spent a delightful day together.

Reality, though, has a definite habit of always intruding, eventually, on the most blissful of feelings. So, as the day rolled around to its conclusion, I found myself gradually steeling myself for conflict, my teeth on grim edge as I anticipated a confrontation with Eddie.

And wouldn't you know it, this would turn out to be one of those nights, rarer than a unicorn, when he came home from the garbage truck horny and wanting to fuck me the minute he walked through the door.

Fucking Eddie was not what I had been preparing myself for, and his demands threw me off stride. I didn't want to fuck him, the memories of my experience this morning with Janie still warmly deposited in my cunt.

On the other hand, having old fatso stick his slimy dick up my cunt was preferable to having him slap me around for last night.

Or was it?

"Listen," Eddie panted, hustling me into the bedroom, "I've gotta have it now."

"But the children...." I said, alluding to the fact that Janie was in the bedroom next to us and Johnny was right outside the door.

"Forget 'em," he growled.

"At least close the door," I said.

He walked over and kicked it closed with a grunt, then walked back to me and pushed me back onto the bed. "Now, strip," he demanded as he started pulling down his grimy pants.

Reluctantly, my fingers went to the waist of my jeans and unbuttoned them. He seemed like a volcano on the verge of eruption as he waited with obvious impatience for me. As I took my clothes off, I could see his prick standing out like an angry sword.

As I said before, most of the time Eddie's alleged lovemaking consists of him rolling on top of me, half-drunk and half-asleep, just sticking his cock in long enough for him to spray the inside of my cunt, and then rolling off and falling asleep-if he was ever awake in the first place. But when he walks through the door horny like this in the early evening, anything's possible.

I know the cause of it. Every once in a while, the garbage men make a find of some hard-core pornography in somebody's trash, and spend all day passing it around among themselves and getting horny as hell. That stuff always puts ideas in Eddie's head-since he's too dumb to get any ideas on his own-and when he comes home, he usually wants to try whatever he's been looking at all day in those dirty pictures. One time he tied me to a chair, got out his .22 pistol and held it to my head-unloaded, thank God-while he made me suck him off, eventually coming all over my face. Then, with globs of sperm sliding down my face, he thrust the barrel of the gun into my mouth and made me suck it while he played with his prick until he came again.

When I was naked, he came towards me with a determined expression on his unshaven face as I anxiously wondered what he was going to try tonight.

He went for my legs and grabbed them around the ankles, pulling them straight up. Then he bent them back over the top part of my body and hooked my feet over the bedstead so that I could feel my cunt and asshole literally bulging out in the open.

The way he acted when he was like this, I would have been afraid to move in any case. But, just to make sure I didn't, he shook the case off a pillow and quickly wrapped it around my ankles, binding them to the bedstead.

Now that I was at his mercy, he lowered himself to inspect my crotch, rubbing his hand roughly over it as though he had to check that it was still there. When he was apparently satisfied that everything was in working order, he straightened up and took a couple of deep breaths, working himself into a snorting frenzy while he stroked his prick.

Through my upraised legs, I could see him grab firmly ahold of his cock and begin guiding it towards my open crotch. I closed my eyes, expecting to feel his cock slide up my cunt, telling myself that it wouldn't be too bad, and I could almost fake coming.

But, then, suddenly, instead of feeling the head of his dick pass through my pussy-lips, I felt a stabbing thrust below my cunt that felt like I had been impaled on a butcher knife.

My God, he was trying to fuck me in the ass! And without any preparation. There was no lubrication there and his ramming dick scraped painfully against the taut, delicate skin of my bone-dry asshole. He didn't even give me a chance to get used to accepting his huge rod in the tiny canal. He just shoved his cock up my tight, dry butt, totally ignoring my screams as he pushed harder and harder until I thought I was going to pass out from the intolerable pain.

Probably the thing that kept me conscious was that, just as I was on the brink of going under, the room filled with the sharp crack of the bedroom door being hurled open, and footsteps pounding across the floor.

"Don't hurt my mommy!" Johnny screamed at Eddie. "Get off her or I'll kill you!"

I opened my eyes with alarm and saw my twelve-year-old son standing there threatening his father with a butcher knife, while his father had his cock buried up to the hilt in his mother's asshole.

"Why, you little bastard!" Eddie bellowed, and swung around with the upper part of his body to try and knock Johnny away. As he did so, his prick slipped partially out of my butt. Seizing the opportunity to get free, I pulled my crotch back with all my might, and, wiggling my hips, worked his prick completely out of my asshole.

Eddie turned around from trying to hit Johnny, who had skipped out of danger, and saw that I had gotten his cock out of my butthole. He tried to grab for me in anger, but I had managed to tear off the restraints around my ankles and my legs were down now. I began kicking at him furiously, eventually driving him back.

Seeing that he wasn't going to get his prick back in my ass, Eddie got up off the bed and walked towards me, his cock still standing straight out, with his hands clutched in front of him as though he intended to choke me for my disobedience.

However, he never touched me. Just as his hands approached my throat, Johnny appeared out of nowhere behind him and let him have it across the back of the neck with a lamp. Eddie dropped like he had been shot to the floor, his neck and head bleeding copiously, fragments of the lamp surrounding him on the floor.

I leaped from the bed and dashed into the living room, picking up the receiver and hovering over the phone, still naked, as I frantically dialed the one place I could think of that might help.

"Police?" I asked urgently.

The voice on the other end said that I had the right place, and blandly asked what he could do for me.

I cried into the receiver, "I've been ....", stopping abruptly at the word which would actually describe what had happened, then finally yielding to the word which was indelibly etched into my consciousness despite the fact that the identity of my attacker was my own husband. "I've been raped!"

"Where you live, lady?" the voice said, emotionless.

I gave him the address.

"The projects, huh?"

"Yes," I confirmed.

"Tell me somethin', lady," the voice said. "Yes "

"You a white lady?"

"Well ... why, yes, but ...."

"And was your assailant a nig ... colored?"

"No, he was white," I said.

"Oh," he said with obvious disappointment. After a pause, the interest dropped from his voice and he said, "Okay, well send somebody as soon as we can spare 'em."

Taken aback by his nonchalance, and the implication that the police would have been Johnny-on-the-spot for something they considered sufficiently juicy, I screamed into the phone, "Can't you send somebody right away?"

"Why?" was his bored answer.

"I told you, because I've been raped!" I cried desperately.

"It's already over, isn't it?" he said matter-of-factly.

"Well, yes...."

"Then what's the hurry, lady? Just take it easy. Somebody'll be there to take your complaint sooner or later."

I hung up with a crash and wandered dazedly back into the bedroom. Seeing Eddie collapsed out cold on the floor brought me around, though. A pool of blood from his head and neck had spread out on the floor, mixing with the shards of glass and porcelain from the smashed lamp. So overwhelming was my contempt for my fallen husband that it didn't occur to me the unusual step I had taken in reporting a rape where I, as his wife, was the victim of my own husband.

I looked around for my son, Johnny, to thank him for saving me, and to calm him down after the trauma he must have received from witnessing the terrible scene between his father and me. But Johnny was nowhere around. I went back into the living room, calling his name in vain. Then I saw the front door wide open and realized that he had fled.

It didn't take me more than a couple of seconds to figure out what had probably happened. The way you were brought up in the projects, all you had to hear was that the cops were coming and you split. It was well understood from your first day on the streets that, if you lived in the projects, you'd better stay away from the pigs.

I sat, still naked, and wondered ruefully if Johnny, in addition to his instinctive fear of the police, might have thought I called them on him for bashing his father in the head.

Eventually I returned to the bedroom, taking only a brief look at Eddie to make sure he was still out of commission, and finding a robe which I threw over my nakedness. I went into the kitchen and found some beer and had a couple of cans to calm me down during the nerve-racking ordeal of waiting for the police.

I had a beer can in my hand when I heard somebody knocking on the front door, and then, not even waiting for an answer, hurling it open and barging into the apartment. I automatically responded to the commotion by lurching up from the table and walking into the living room, calling, "Hey, what's going on in here?"

There were two of them, both of them looking like soldiers in some disreputable army in their baggy, blue uniforms. Both of them instantly trained their eyes on the beer can I was holding.

"You the lady supposed to've been raped?" one of them with a red, mottled face asked.

"Yes," I said, already intimidated by their aggressive presence.

"Don't seem to've hit you too hard," the red-faced one said with a funny grin.

"I beg your pardon?" I ventured.

"Don't seem like to me you're too shook up if you're takin' time out for a brew. Seems to me people only do that after they've enjoyed something."

I incredulously asked him what he meant.

"Maybe I should say after they've enjoyed it."

He pronounced the word "it" as though it were the most obscene word in the language.

His partner, with a face as smoothly white and doughy as his was fiery and pitted, just stood there saying nothing. At least he hadn't smart-mouthed me, so I appealed to him, trying, incongruously, to explain why I was doing something as suspicious as drinking a can of beer.

"I've been trying to calm myself down," I said. "I went through a lot."

The dough-faced one remained mute; however, his partner was quick to reply, "Yeah, lady, that's what they all say."

I told myself that I had to stifle my anger if I was going to get anyplace. I was beginning to wish that I hadn't called them, but they were here, and I had to make the best of it.

"How can I cooperate with your investigation?" I forced myself to say.

"Say, Slobotksi," the red-faced one said to his silent partner, "we gotta citizen here that wants to cooperate with her local law-enforcement officials. And in the goddamn projects, yet. I don't believe it. You got any smellin' salts, handy, Slobotski? Ha, ha!"

He turned back to me and eyed me intensely, his eyes like hot coals in the scarred geography of his scarlet face.

"I'm glad you wanna cooperate with us," he said, an aggressive edge never leaving his voice.

"Of course," I forced myself to say evenly, fighting my emotions. "What would you like me to tell you?"

"No, that comes later," he said. "First we gotta be sure that it happened. You know, we gotta have proof that this here crime you're alleging actually was perpetrated. Know what I mean, honey?"

I was aghast at his familiarity, and just stood there with my mouth open.

"What I mean, doll, is that you gotta show us where he plugged you so we can see it's true that he really had it up in you. I hope you didn't get finicky and douche nothin' out, because if there's a load of cum between your legs, it'll make our investigation a helluva lot easier. And me and my partner like easy investigations. Don't we, Slobotski?"

Slobotski just grinned like an idiot. I thought I detected him drooling.

The red-faced one moved towards me and, before I could figure out what he was going to do, shoved against my chest with his open hands, squashing my tits before I flew back onto the couch. As I fell backward, my eye caught a glimpse of the name tag on his shirt and saw that his name was Murphy.

"What's the meaning of this, Officer Murphy?" I blurted as my fall was broken by the cushions of the couch.

"I see you know my name," he chuckled. "I knew my fame had spread, but strange women recognizin' me ... Wow, Slobotski, feel privileged to work alongside the old master."

"What're you doing?" I demanded to know as he pressed closer towards me.

"Well, we ain't swimmin' the English Channel. We're conducting a routine police investigation, natch. We gotta be sure what you say happened, happened like you say. Understand?"

He winked.

"So...." he continued. "So?" I repeated in fear.

"Spread your legs so we can conduct our investigation."

"What if I refuse?"

"You ever hear of interfering with a police officer in the process of conducting an investigation, sister?"

I looked up at his snarling red face in astonishment.

"It's a felony, baby, a big one. So you just cooperate, like you promised in the first place, if you know what's good for you. Now spread 'em."

But I was paralyzed with fear as it occurred to me for the first time that the investigation could be worse than the crime. I couldn't have moved a muscle if I had wanted to.

"Slobotski, get your ass over here!" Murphy barked to his partner. "Our witness here has gotten shy on us. Help the little lady out, huh?"

Like a big doughy robot, Slobotski shuffled over to where I was on the couch and grabbed ahold of my legs, placing his sweaty palms and clutching fingers up under the hem of my robe onto my thighs.

"Now!" Murphy ordered.

All of a sudden the apparently soft Slobotski turned into a powerhouse of strength as his hands clenched like vises on my thighs and pried them apart, sending my robe flying up around my waist and completely exposing my aching crotch.

Slobotski backed away to give Murphy room to peer in between my legs. I looked away, but I could feel the heat emanating from his face as he put it right up against my cunt.

Suddenly a finger traced over the contours of my pussy-lips and then breached them, going inside my cunt as Murphy brazenly felt me up. After a minute or so he withdrew his finger and I could hear him sniffing it before he said, "There ain't nothin' up there but the regular smell of pussy. Tuna fish, ha, ha. My professional opinion, lady, as a bona-fide sergeant on the police force with over ten years of crime-fighting experience, is that there ain't been nothin' up there but your own imagination."

I said nothing. What point would there be now in telling them I'd actually been fucked in the ass? Besides, Eddie hadn't come up there either. Instead, I just remained mute and frozen with my legs apart as they contemplated my emit.

Slobotski showed some initiative for the first time as he came forward and peered into the well of my crotch. His fingers, too, explored my cunt, although he was a lot gender than his partner.

Slobotski's fingers traced the extent of my cunt, starting from the beginning of its slit under my bush, all the way to where it ended near my asshole. It was there that his finger pressed against the lump of my swollen bung, and I literally jumped in pain.

"Jesus," Murphy said to his still silent partner, "will you look at that. Her asshole's swollen up like she just shit a bumblebee."

Murphy straightened up and put his ugly face next to my ear and yelled, "Hey, lady!"

I jumped again.

"Just trying to get your attention. Listen, did he do it to you in your ass?" I reluctantly nodded.

He leaned over again and put his finger down there, inserting it painfully up my butt.

"Nope, nothin' sticky up there either. You sure you weren't playing with your vibrator and things got out of hand?" Then Murphy turned to his partner and said, "I dunno, Slobotski, seems a shame to have somebody claiming to be a rape victim, and it looks like no rape actually took place."

Turning back towards me, he made a lewd wink and said, "Maybe we can do somethin' about that, lady."

And just so I wouldn't miss the point, he reached down and rubbed his groin, calling my attention to the large cock-bulge that was now protruding there.

I instinctively closed my legs in fear as I trembled, waiting for what was going to come next. I had been at the mercy of men three times in the last twenty-four hours: first by an actual rapist, last night; then by my own husband; and finally by the police. Each of them had been successively up the scale of so-called respectability, and each had been successively more terrifying.

Apparently, I was on the verge of being victimized again. I closed my eyes and prayed for something extraordinary to save me as Murphy and Slobotski infected each other with Murphy's contagious inspiration about the possibility of raping me.

Then with my eyes still closed, I heard a commotion coming from the direction of the bedroom and moving .towards the living room. I opened my eyes in time to see Eddie staggering into the room, holding his bloody head like a watermelon that had already been dropped once and couldn't withstand another bounce on the ground.

"Who's this clown?" Murphy demanded to know. "This your boy friend? Doing a little cheating on your husband and it got out of hand, didn't it, and you thought you could call us and we'd bail you out, now didn't you?"

"No, no," I cried, "that's my husband!"

"That right, fella?" Murphy said to the disheveled Eddie.

"You're damn straight," Eddie rumbled.

"Then who's supposed to've raped you?" Murphy turned to me.

"He did," I blurted, pointing to Eddie, immediately realizing that I had made a mistake.

"He did?" Murphy said incredulously. "That's impossible! He's your husband! What're you trying to pull here, lady? You trying to make fools outta the police?"

I didn't know how to answer.

"Wait a minute," Eddie interrupted, swaying uncertainly in the center of the room. "She's tellin' the truth. Sort of. I mean, sure, I fucked her. I fucked her right up the ass. Didn't use no Vaseline or nothin'. And I'd like to know what the hell anybody's gonna do about it. Last time I heard, man hadda right to prong his old lady no matter how he liked. Fuck her in the fuckin' armpits if I wanted to. It's a man's right with his wife. Says so in the fuckin' Bible."

I winced at the notion of Eddie as a Biblical scholar, not to mention his perverted, vicious logic that he could treat me like a slave because he happened to be married to me.

"That's right, the man's right," Murphy said. "When you get right down to it, there ain't no actual such thing as rape between a husband and a wife. Just passionate lovemaking, ha, ha."

"Right," Eddie agreed gutturally as he staggered over to me and grabbed the hem of my robe and wiped some blood off his face with it.

When he was finished, instead of dropping it back in place, he pulled the flap of the robe back even farther, exposing my legs and the top of my beaver. The three of them looked at me, contemptuously yet hungrily.

"Listen, friend," Murphy said to Eddie. "I noticed during the course of our investigation of this matter that you didn't have time to finish what you'd started. Looks like you got yourself clobbered before you got in all of your innings."

"What're you gettin' at?" Eddie snarled suspiciously.

Murphy looked over at me for a long time, moving his eyes over my body, and especially towards the area of my cunt, deciding it was worth it to take the risk of what he was apparently considering. Finally he spoke, cocking his hand over his holstered gun and saying jauntily, but still betraying his nervousness: "Before you showed up, we was thinkin' about finishing the job. You know, sort of re-enacting the crime for the purposes of our investigation. Of course, now we know there ain't been no crime. But, on the other hand, now that you're here, you're kinda like our host. You know, us cops don't like to go to all the trouble of responding to a call and then come away empty-handed. Goes against our public-spirited grain. Maybe you'd like to help us make it worth our while for comin' all the way out here."

"You mean, you boys want me to tell you it's okay to go ahead and fuck my wife?" Eddie said.

"Well, I wouldn't put it exactly that way," Murphy said.

"How else would you put it?" Eddie said in such a way that I actually thought that maybe he was coming to my rescue.

Murphy was silent for a moment and then concluded, "Now that you mention it, I guess I would put it that way. Except, of course, that nobody expects you to watch."

"Oh, now you're givin' me permission to fuck my own wife. I thought we already decided I don't need that-not even from her."

"What I mean is that it looks like the little lady is more 'h enough for one man. From the looks of you, you couldn't finish on your own. Too bad. There's nothin' like shooting your wad up a tight asshole, even if it is only your wife's. However, now you got some expert help. She can't fight back if somebody's holding her down."

"Say, you gotta good point there," Eddie said, a grin splitting his scruffy face.

So much for chivalry.

"I get it," Eddie continued. "If the three of us are on her, she won't be able to fight back."

Apparently his dignity wouldn't let him admit that he'd actually been conked by a ten-year-old kid in the first place.

"And nobody can do nothin'," he went on, "because I'm her husband, and what I want goes."

"And, besides, we're the police," Murphy reminded him. "Meaning, of course, that it's impossible for us to break the law."

You'd have thought I were an inanimate object-a rock or something that was in their way that they were contemplating moving-the detached way they discussed me in my presence. It was as though they didn't know I was there. Correction: They knew my body was there-specifically my cunt and ass-but they just disregarded that I had a mind and feelings.

But I knew I had them. And, what's more, I knew that it would be devastating to them to have to endure another humiliating sexual experience under the mental and emotional conditions of the last two. And that wasn't even counting my disillusioning fuck with the Housing Authority's Mr. Collins.

There was no doubt about it now. They were going to fuck me, and fuck me good. I could see it in their perspiring faces and their shifting eyes. Even the doughy, placid Slobotski was showing signs of agitation.

And I could see it in the bulges of their crotches. Each of their dicks was obviously straining under their pants, waiting to be unleashed on me.

The old saying is that when you're about to be raped and there's nothing you can do about it-lay back and enjoy it. It's considered old-fashioned advice, I guess, in these days of liberation, although all I know about women's lib is what I read someplace or hear on television. As far as real life's concerned, as much as I can tell, women's lib doesn't make any difference as to what happens to people like me. My life was planned out in advance according to the fact of nature that men have big strong cocks between their legs, and women have holes. Hairy, slurping holes, but holes nonetheless. The way it is, the men are always going to be trying to stick those cocks into your hole, and if you want anything out of life besides being an old maid or a nun, well, you've got to let them stick it in you, you've got to give in to them. You've got to let yourself be fucked. Women's lib would say fucked over. But you've still got to fuck. Fucking is a part of life, even if it isn't perfect. Even the people in women's lib fuck.

And I was going to be fucked over now. I made up my mind right then, as they circled me like frothing dogs competing for a bitch in heat, that if they were going to fuck me, it wasn't going to be a one-way street. I was going to fuck back. And enjoy every pounding thrust of it. Before I was through, I was determined to wring every last sticky drop of jizz out of their cocks, and send them away with their peckers between their legs.

Having made my decision, I wasted no time in getting things rolling. Murphy was the closest, and as he bumped near me, I suddenly grabbed for the bulge below his waist. Wow, you should have seen the look on his face when I did that. He almost fainted from astonishment.

But if he had started to fall, goddamn it, I would have kept him up by holding onto his prick. Because I had his cock out of his pants quicker even than I would have thought possible. And it was a beauty: a long, thick rod with a hard knot on the end of it, the whole thing even redder than his face.

Eagerly, I wrapped my lips around his cock, hungrily swallowing it whole, sucking on it with all my might to draw it out to its full length, while my fingers frantically fumbled in his pants for his balls.

Eddie had never seen me like this, but he apparently liked what he saw, since he wasted no time in unfurling his own prick, which, when he pulled it out, seemed, out of the corner of my eye, to be bigger and stiffer than I had ever seen it in all the years of our marriage.

It became immediately clear that Eddie wanted some of my mouth, too. By this time I had Murphy's hairy, quivering balls free of his pants and was pressing them tightly as I sucked his cock. Eddie moved to Murphy's side and bumped him over. Murphy glowered back at him, and I could see there might be trouble if I didn't intercede.

I took ahold of Eddie's prick, marveling at its new-found length and girth before I opened my mouth wider than I would have thought possible and forced it in.

Of course with two big pricks in my mouth there was no way I could thoroughly swallow both or either one. However I got the head of each securely inside and bathed them in drooling, warm saliva and ran my tongue over them as I felt them throb inside my grasping mouth and against each other.

But it was left to Slobotski to really surprise me. Up until now he had been standing timidly across the room, looking as if he were too shy to join in. But, finally, the temptation was too much for him. Just as I had the two cocks securely wedged in my mouth and was lathering them up with my busy tongue, I shot a glance across the room and saw him at last pulled out his prick.

Jesus, what a cock! I had never seen one so big. It even made Mr. Collins from the Housing Authority look underdeveloped, and his prick had been at least a healthy ten inches.

Unlike the others, Slobotski let his pants and shorts fall all the way off, which gave my grateful eyes the opportunity to witness the full glory of his equipment. And the fact that he was still wearing his gun belt made it even more exciting, sending a rapturous spasm through my bubbling cunt as I saw his prick was even bigger than his pistol. .

Out of the center of a veritable forest of thick, unruly black pubic hair, a dong apparently over a foot long loomed from Slobotski's tensed loins. It had a thick shaft that looked like a heavy-duty battering ram incongruously colored pink, and a knob on the end of it like a blunt, pointed heart. And even from across the room I could see a shining pearl of anxious juice glistening at the end of it.

With both Eddie's and Murphy's pricks in my mouth, I put my hands forward and motioned Slobotski to come towards me. When he hesitated, I spread my legs to the maximum, and, thrusting my hands to my crotch, tore apart the slobbering lips of my pussy so he could see the inviting, frothing interior of my starving cunt that begged to be battered into insensibility by his monster tool.

Slobotski got my message, all right. He lumbered, across the room, and was quickly panting over me. I knew I was going to have to help him because he was so shy. So, while the other two continued to fuck me in the mouth, I swung my body out along the length of the couch, keeping my head twisted so I could accommodate the twin cocks.

The memory of my terror when this had all started had utterly vanished. The only thing on my mind now were those three cocks in the room with me, and especially Slobotski's huge vibrating whang. My cunt ached to have it inside me.

I spread my legs invitingly and felt the pussy juice draining out of my puffy slit, drenching my thighs in anticipation of what was about to happen. Slobotski may have been slow, but he had finally caught on, and quickly lowered himself between my grossly open thighs.

I wanted my hands around that cock to make sure it went in my cunt exactly right. But nothing prepared me for the way it felt in my hands. I couldn't completely close my fingers around the shaft it was so huge.

I worked his cock in slowly and tantalizingly, trying to drive both of us crazy. First, though, I rubbed the huge knob against my vibrating clit, actually inserting my nub into the vertical slit at the tip of his prick, fucking him in a delicious miniature way.

When my clit was agitated to the extreme point where I thought it was going to hemorrhage, I took monster cock with both hands in a grip starting right under the rim of the head and rammed it like a spear up my waiting, gasping cunt.

You could hear that prick literally splashing up the canal of my pussy, so copious and juicy was the ocean of sticky cunt goo that awaited it. The squishing continued, sounding like somebody jumping up and down on a set of springs, as he pumped away at my cunt. He drove his gigantic cock in my cunt to the hilt, his balls pounding against the cheeks of my upturned ass, and then he slid that big tool slowly out all the way to the knob, the froth from my pussy juice coating his shaft and bubbling at my cunt-lips, streaking down my crotch. My pussy-lips hung onto his prick like claws, determined to work the thin skin of his cock back and forth in a friction so maddening he would be seized by convulsions.

Meanwhile, Eddie and Murphy hadn't forgotten about me, and I certainly hadn't forgotten about them. Their cocks tasted saltier and saltier in my mouth, and I couldn't wait to soften the taste with the sweet flavor of creamy, hot jism. Just to make them swell in my sucking mouth even more, and bring them even closer to the sticky reality of ejaculation, I lifted my hands from Slobotski's immense dick, which was doing fine on its own, and wrapped them around the two pricks in my mouth.

Vigorously, I stroked their cocks, gouging my fingers into their hard flesh and kneading them like stubborn dough. Then I cupped their balls, pumping all four of them, trying to get every possible drop of cum on ready-alert to shoot out of those pricks like they were fire hoses.

Suddenly, the room seemed to jump. It was like there was an earthquake. But it was we who were causing the tremor. Locked as we were in a pretzel of fucking and sucking, the same vibrations seemed to be coursing through all of us simultaneously. If one of us felt something, we all felt it. And I guess the feeling which now shook us down to our quicks had started with me, and had quickly invaded the others.

First I felt it right in the pit of my stomach. But then it instantly spread to my crotch. Not just my cunt, but the whole thing. Not only my pussy, but my pussy-lips, my pelvis, my groin, my hips, my asshole, even my bush, suddenly felt as though they had been zapped by an electric shock. Oh, my God, what a deliriously agonizing feeling it was! My pelvis bucked as though my spine had just been snapped. And, as I shot my hips forward in delirious ecstasy, the others, having assimilated my vibes, did exactly the same thing. The force of our combined thrust almost knocked us onto the floor.

There was no doubt about it, I was going to come almost immediately. And I knew, as the welter of orgasm inundated my body, I would have the simultaneous thrill of being absolutely drenched with steaming sperm. But I didn't want to wait at all. Just to advance the onslaught a few precious seconds, I lowered my hand to my exploding crotch. Feeling Slobotski's massive prick reaming out my cunt, I pressed my finger just above where his shaft was moving in and out like a piston and pressed my turgid, stiff clit. I was so immersed in sex that two cocks in my mouth and the biggest dong I'd ever seen ripping apart my pussy wasn't enough, and I had to flick myself off.

Oh, but it was worth it! It was like being in a fairy tale and saying "Open Sesame," after I pressed the button of my clit. Orgasmic frenzy instantly drenched me-it was as though somebody had somehow filled a bucket with orgasms and then poured them all over me.

It was not just one climax I felt, but one after another after another after another ... until there seemed to be dozens of them; and not just occurring successively, but several of them seeming to occur simultaneously.

As I came, every orifice in my body tightened up. My cunt and mouth squeezed those dicks so hard I thought I was going to break them. But what happened was that the cum exploded from them, all three cocks gushing at once. If one of them had divided just his sperm between all three of them, there would have been more than enough to go around for three normal girls getting fucked. But all three of my guys had more than that much. How wonderful it felt, because I was not three normal girls getting fucked, but one with the ravenous appetite for spurting pricks of an army of horny women.

At that moment I couldn't think of a better way to die than to drown in jism. As they ejaculated in me, I envisioned myself going under for the third and last time as I drowned in a bottomless pool of cum, my mouth and nose completely clogged with the viscous globs of it, as I fought for breath and gratefully lost to the dominance of the onslaught of hot, sticky sperm that overwhelmed me.

Well, I wasn't exactly being fucked by crowned heads of state, so I didn't expect to be treated like a queen when we were through coming. However, I also didn't expect to be thrown on the floor like a used scum-bag when they were through shooting their wads in me.

But that's exactly what happened. When they had squeezed off their last syrupy globules of cum, they pulled out of me simultaneously. The sound of their dicks actually popping out of my taut orifices resonated through the room. The force of their withdrawal threw me back against the couch, where I bounced and finally landed in a heap on the floor. When I landed, the sound of the cum filling my cunt splashing was clearly audible, and long, stringy globs of it flew out of my open pussy and mouth. I put my hand to my face and felt it all over me, rich blobs of sperm oozing down my face and matting my hair.

A hand to my pussy revealed that spent jism was flowing out like molten lava cascading over the rim of a volcano. There wasn't a dry hair in my bush, and my thighs were adhesively coated with it.

I wasn't through yet, though!

I would have been satisfied to just lie there, feeling the cum slide out of me, basking in the afterglow of the most sensationally excruciating sex experience I had ever had. How could I just call it fucking? It was an experience! But from the scuffling I heard above me, it became quickly evident that the experience wasn't over. The three of them wanted more.

I opened my eyes and saw them huddling together, obviously sizing me up for something, their cocks still erect and bumping into each other.

"The ass," one of them said.

"Yeah, the ass," the others buzzed.

My ass! That's right, that's what had started all of this. Eddie fucking me in the ass. My God, that had hurt.

But this time I was ready for it. I wouldn't let them batter me down. I convinced myself that it didn't make any difference how many of them wanted to fuck me, how long they wanted to fuck, or which hole they wanted to do it in. I could take it. I'd been waiting there with my legs spread, my mouth open wide, and my buns pulled apart so they could fuck me until their balls were turned inside out they were so dry.

However, nothing that I anticipated turned out to be quite so colossal as what actually happened.

The three of them picked me off the floor and tossed me onto the couch. Eddie grabbed me with his heavy hands, clutching me with his steel fingers around my thighs. He picked me up and actually turned me over in a somersault in mid-air. The other two caught me when I landed and kept me balanced on my head, my ass straight up in the air, and my legs jack-knifed down so that I was looking at my feet.

Murphy was first. He got up on the couch and leaned against me before I could feel his prick tear into my asshole.

I was just starting to enjoy Murphy's cock plunging into my butt, feeling its strong head treading against the tissues of my bowels. But one wasn't enough for them. Because then Eddie was hovering over me, trying to get some leverage on the crowded couch. Just as I figured out what they had in mind, he was stuffing his prick alongside Murphy's, and by pulling apart the burning ridges of my asshole managed to get it in.

It felt like there was a burning log in there. My racing pulse, pounding in the strained arteries between my legs, thumped in counterpoint to their pulsing, stroking dicks.

I couldn't believe the reality of two big pricks crammed into my tiny asshole. I was close to congratulating myself on my adaptability, when it occurred to me in a terrifying flash that there was somebody left over.

Slobotski!

Would they dare? After practically splitting me apart with two cocks up my ass, would they dare to attempt to impale me on a third? And not just any cock, but the biggest one I had ever seen!

As I rested my weight on my head and shoulders, the blood rushed to my head, and I began dizzily praying about the third dick. The inevitability of the rending, tearing pain it would cause gave my prayers a frantic, desperate edge. But not because I was afraid. It was because I wanted it! I wanted that foot-long bar of iron bludgeoning away up my ass even if it tore me into a bloody pulp. If the other two cocks were already up my ass to the hilt, I wanted that monster third one in even farther. I'd like to suck his balls up inside of me. I'd like to suck up his prick so totally into my ass that I'd have to shit for him to get it back.

But no anticipation or preparation could have got me ready, or anybody else in the world unless they had an asshole as big as a hollow log, for the introduction of that titanic prick in my ass alongside those other two. Even alone it would have felt as though it were shredding me like paper, and together with the other two pricks it was simultaneously the most exquisite and inhumane ever devised by man.

If I had been carrying secrets for the CIA, I would have spilled them even if it meant the United States would be destroyed the next day, so overwhelming was the fabulous torture of their tearing tools inside me. As it was, all I could do was hang on and hope they didn't dismember me before I had the chance to come.

When they came, I could feel their trio of spurts, not diminished by their previous ejaculations, shooting up my gut so far and in such volume that I was sure my stomach was now coated with the sticky whiteness of sperm. It would be dribbling and oozing out of my ass for days.

For my part, I began to come in a way that I never had before. All of my insides seemed to grow together into one burning, blazing ball of fire. The ball grew bigger and bigger and burned hotter and hotter until the only thing in the universe that I was aware of was its fire, blazing like a meteor. The flames leaped and danced, completely wiping out everything else until they overtook me entirely and I could feel myself being incinerated in the inferno of my own incandescent passion.

And then when they were through, they pulled out of me all at once, making the skin around my asshole shudder like it had been hit with the flat part of a paddle. I tumbled from the couch and landed in a heap on the floor, my legs splayed in complete exhaustion.

Slobotski shambled over to where I was lying and loomed over me. Was it conceivable that he wanted more? I thought, looking up at him.

But, ho, his cock had finally gone down, hanging from his furry bush now like a Polish sausage.

If he didn't want to fuck, what could he have in mind?

I soon found out as I saw his hand go to his holster and, in terror, watched him draw his gun. I'd thought up until now that I could prepare myself for anything they could throw at me. But, this? It turned me to jelly as I cowered, with tears streaming from my eyes, before him.

He had the gun completely out of the holster now, its barrel gleaming as he fondled it. In the background I could see the other two, both of them watching as wide-eyed as I was.

What was he going to do with that pistol which he was stroking like it was a living thing?

My worst fears were suddenly realized as he crouched down and thrust his hand between my legs, the cold metal of the gun raising goose bumps along my inner thighs as he rubbed the barrel against my tightening skin.

He moved in closer and flicked the dripping folds of my cunt with the barrel, poking around in a way that made my muscles, exhausted as they were, coil like springs, and the inner walls of my pussy clench like a fist.

Now he was tickling my clit with the end of the barrel, but only for a few seconds before he lowered it a couple of inches and placed its cold neck between my quivering pussy-lips.

Slowly he worked it past my cunt-lips, taking his time guiding the barrel up my pussy until it was in ail the way up to the trigger-guard. Never had anything felt so cold and cruel inside me.

But the way it felt was nothing compared to the ugly sound which reverberated through the room like a miniature explosion when he pulled back and hammer and cocked it.

I thought I was going to faint, but a terrible curiosity kept me alert as I watched his hand wrapped around the butt and his finger on the trigger through the valley of my spread-eagled legs. Murphy and Eddie seemed as astonished as I was, and they, too, were rendered mute and paralyzed by the horrible spectacle they were witnessing.

Then, my eyes screened everything else out of the room, and focused like a zoom lens on his twitching finger on the trigger. I could see the coiled tension in his finger, and his pulse making it throb.

I knew in advance when he was going to pull it. It was like having a prick up my cunt or in my mouth and sensing an ejaculation just before it occurred. His finger was like one of those cocks, coiled for a strike, crammed with tension so kinetic that after a certain point it had no choice but to explode.

His finger pulled back, encircling the blue steel of the trigger, and I closed my eyes at last, ready to have my cunt blown to pieces.

But, instead, what I heard was an innocuous, harmless click.

I opened my eyes again and looked right into Slobotski's big doughy face and heard him speak for the first time through the din of the convulsive laughter of the other two sadists in the room.

"Bang!" he said.

CHAPTER FIVE

It took me three days to recover from what had happened to me with Eddie and the two policemen. Janie still wasn't completely over her cold, but I sent her back to school because I didn't want her around the house asking a lot of questions about Mommy's bruises all over her thighs and crotch, and why Mommy walked around like she had broken bottles stuffed up her cunt and ass.

And, believe me, that's how much it hurt-like broken glass ripping and tearing against my womb and bowels when I tried to walk. However, when the pain would start to get the best of me, I would try to recapture the moment when I had all of those cocks inside me and a smile would cross my face. But, inevitably, then I would recall that madman Slobotski seeming like he was going to blow my cunt to pieces with his .38 special, and, worse, those idiots laughing at me in the background, and I would shake my head to erase my memories and be back alone with the pain between my legs.

Besides, as stark an example of agony and ecstasy as it had been, no experience is lasting, and if I had expected what had happened would improve my relationship with Eddie, I was sadly mistaken. He was still the same inconsiderate slob as before, the only difference being that he had' two new playmates with interests similar to his, and was looking forward to going out to play on the weekend with Murphy and Slobotski, leaving me home alone, of course. I couldn't help but wonder if Murphy or Slobotski had a wife they were all going to fuck, too.

I suppose I could have lain in bed recuperating for at least a week, feeling my cunt and asshole slowly drain the remnants of sperm stored in them, and occasionally fresh blood from a rip or tear that hadn't quite healed. However, on Friday, a neighbor who'd heard I was ill brought me up my mail, and once I saw what was in there, I bolted upright in bed and realized I had to get cracking again if I expected to survive.

Collins had been more than true to his word. A letter from the Housing Authority informed me that not only had he added ten points to our record for "unauthorized use of Housing Authority refuse containers", but he had added up all the points on our record and had determined we had exceeded the limit and had to "vacate the premises as undesirable tenants".

What could I do about this? I thought frantically. Going to the Housing Authority office and trying to talk to Collins wouldn't do any good; I'd already given him everything I had to offer and he'd still put the points on our record. If I went down there wiggling my ass, he'd probably fuck me in his office, and when it was all over tell me that he didn't mean anything personal about kicking us out, that he was just doing his job.

No, I had to find help somewhere else. I got up and got dressed, slowly putting on my clothes so as not to hurt my tender spots, and also give myself some time to think. It was when I was pulling on a pair of corduroy jeans, wriggling my tender crotch into them, that an idea occurred to me.

We weren't the only ones who had had trouble with the Housing Authority. My mind focused on a recent event I recalled where a couple had four children, and the wife was pregnant with another one. Without warning, when she came home from the hospital with the new baby, there was an eviction notice waiting for the family, telling them they now had too many people in their family for the number of rooms in their apartment and they would have to move.

I sat down on the edge of the bed, trying to remember the full details of what had happened to the family. Finally, it occurred to me. They had gotten involved with something called the Citizens' Housing Authority Grievance Committee. I remembered now that it was a tenants' organization that had sprung up in the face of the atrocities constantly being committed by the Housing Authority, against the people who lived in the projects. It was run by a black man who had been around for years named Luther Jackson, who had started calling himself Rashid Barakwa and become a militant. The Housing Authority hated his organization and they'd tried to evict Barakwa from his project apartment, but he had gone to court and gotten a restraining order against them. And he'd done the same for the evicted family I had recalled.

The Housing Authority wouldn't allow Barakwa's organization to officially conduct business on their property, so he operated in secrecy somewhere within the projects. It was probably over in the south building some place, the part of the projects where, despite the Housing Authority's denials that they arranged people by race, the blacks lived. The south building, as far as anyone knew, was 100 per cent black.

As all of this information came to me, I realized that I had no alternative but to go over there, try and find him, and ask Barakwa to help me. But I'd have to keep it secret, even if I was doing it for the family. If Eddie found out I was "hanging around a bunch of niggers", as he would be sure to put it, he'd explode, using it as yet another excuse to beat the shit out of me.

I took the elevator downstairs and started walking across the grounds towards the south building, with no idea where Barakwa's secret headquarters were.' It was obvious that I was going to have to ask somebody for directions. I made my way through the trash-littered yard in front of the building, being pursued by a mangy barking dog, looking for somebody to talk to.

But when I reached the building and saw some people lolling on the steps, I was seized by anxiety. It immediately hit me that mine was the only white face in sight. The south building was completely black, and the angry, hostile stares I was getting were obviously coming because of the color of my skin.

I walked slowly up the steps, growing more apprehensive by the moment. The hostile muttering of the people on the steps that I passed followed me inside the building.

On a hunch, I turned down some concrete stairs I noticed in the dark in the middle of the corridor, and went down them. They led to the laundry room, a place I never went in in my own building since it had long since turned into a haven for junkies and flashers.

I stopped a few steps from the bottom and looked at the scene in front of me, illuminated by a dim bulb hanging from the ceiling. The laundry room was full of men with nothing to do. I guess that while their wives, mothers, or girl friends were out doing domestic work, these unemployed men, on the pretense of doing the household laundry, hung around this place drinking beer and wine and gambling.

Taking a deep breath to bolster my courage, I went down the last few steps.

Once I had taken my foot off the final step, I couldn't have changed my mind about going inside had I wanted to. The minute they spotted me a wave of alertness spread across the smoky room, and their bored, nodding faces suddenly came to life, white grins splitting their black faces at the novelty of a white woman in their presence.

They stood in undefined ranks leering at me until one of them stepped forward, establishing himself in my mind as their leader. He was a tall, rangy man, probably someplace in his late twenties, with coal-black skin. His hair was covered by a greasy, torn nylon stocking. A huge smile cut a ribbon across his dark face, revealing two or three of his teeth missing, and one in front a gleaming gold. A scraggly goatee covered his chin.

"Watchoo wan', white lady?" he said as though the answer had better be good.

"Well, actually," I said, trying to sound like I was in control of myself, "I was looking for somebody."

"Lookin' for somebody in here?" he asked in mock incredulity. "Sheeeit, lady, you be a long way from home. You wanta buy yo'se'f some dope? That be it? Some pot?"

"No, no," I said hurriedly.

"Then, what could you all wan' from us in here?" he asked more pointedly.

A voice from the background blurted, "Maybe she wan' some o' this."

I looked among the ranks in back of the first talker, and, just as I managed to connect the second voice with a huge, muscular man by one of the dryers, felt the shock of astonishment shoot through me as I saw him openly rubbing his crotch.

"Yeah, tha's right," he said when he saw me noticing him. "Some o' this. You wan' some dark meat, Miss Ann?"

"No, I don't think so, not today, thank you," I said dumbly as I turned around to leave.

But I never made it to the first step. The leader sprinted around and ahead of me and met me as he blocked the door to the steps.

"C'mon, now, lady," he said, "you musta come in here fo' some reason. What'd it be?"

"I'm looking for Rashid Barakwa," I said in a rush, deciding to risk asking.

"You live in the projects?" he said. "Or's you from the Housing Authority?"

"You think I'm a spy or something?" I said indignantly, without thinking.

"Well, you white, ain't you?" he said as matter-of-factly as if he were describing the weather.

"Yes ... but that doesn't mean...."

"Then what do it mean?" he said. "What fo' you want our man Barakwa?"

"I live in the projects. They're trying to evict my family on some trumped-up charge. I thought Mr. Barakwa could help."

"Sheeeeit, now ain't that cheek!" he said and started laughing. With his apparent amusement at my reply, the others gathered around to see what was going on and get in on the fun at my expense.

"Wha's happening, man, wha's this jive ass honkey tryin' to lay down on you, brother?" one of them said to the man in the door.

"She lookin' fo' Barakwa to help her out. Dig that, a honkey comin' all the way over to here to have a nigger help 'em," the leader said to the others. "Only one kinda honkey do that. You ain't no Jew, is you, lady?"

I shook my head no.

"I say, she expect us to do somethin' for her, she got to do somethin' fo' us," an exceedingly skinny one in the back of the cluster of men said.

"Right on," the huge, muscular one, rumbled gutturally.

"Please, let me go," I pleaded to the one at the door. "I'm sorry I bothered you by coming in here."

"Bother us? Sheeeeit," he said. "I don' think you done bothered no one. Just look at them dudes."

I turned around and saw all of them straining in a mass towards me. Because I was familiar with him, my eyes went to the big, muscular one. Everything about him was still the same-the big, sneering grin, the twitching muscles in his arms under the thin T-shirt he was wearing-everything except one thing. As I looked to see if he was still rubbing his crotch, I saw that indeed he was, but now it was more for real: His long, black prick stood straight out from his fly, seeming as though it were poised to leap through the air at me.

"Oh, my God!" I shrieked, my astonishment causing the others to start fumbling with their pants so they could pull their own dark cocks out and get in on their friend's act.

I made up my mind that when I turned around, I was going to have to put all my effort into busting by the man blocking the door. I took a deep breath and threw myself around, trying to sweep past him with my momentum.

But he was ready for me. His strong black arms encircled me and crushed my head to his chest. As I smelled the strong scent of his ebony skin, I suddenly felt something jabbing me insistently in the belly. I looked down and gasped, my bulging eyes taking in the full impact of the sight of his unsheathed, gleaming black prick standing stiff between us like an iron bar.

I wanted out of there, and at the moment I was willing 'to resort to just about anything to escape. I reached down for his shining cock and wrapped my hands around it as though it were so compelling I couldn't resist touching and stroking it regardless of my state of mind up until that moment.

I felt the small instant of relaxation I had hoped for when I had reached for his cock, and, when he relaxed, I seized the opportunity to twist his prick around in my hands as if it were a snake that I was trying to behead.

"You lousy motherfuckin' honkey bitch!" he screamed at me as I released his wrenched pecker and elbowed my way past him, bolting up the stairs.

The hallway reflected no light down the passageway to the laundry room, and as I bounded by the steps, I couldn't see where I was going, planning to just follow my nose until I was out of there.

When I didn't make it, at first I thought I'd somehow run into a wall. At what I estimated was about two steps from the top, I suddenly collided with an unseen obstacle that didn't budge an inch as I flew backward on impact and toppled down the stairs, landing in a heap right where I'd started, at the feet of the men in the laundry room.

"What'samatter, baby, you run into the wall, or you just scared?" the big, muscular one leered, waving his still visible black serpent of a cock at me. "Don't tell me that a nice white lady like yo'se'f done never seen one of these befo'e, and we done frightened you with our, heh, heh, dark meat."

The others laughed knowingly, and without prompting started assembling in a circle around me, all of them tugging at their unanimously bulging crotches.

Suddenly the air, heavy with their smug laughter, was cut in two by the blade of a sharply etched voice knifing through the room. "She didn't run into no wall," it said commandingly. "She ran into me."

The crowd of black men froze at the sound of the voice, and waited expectantly like children in trouble for what was coming next as the footsteps of the owner of the voice slowly descended the stairs.

Luther Jackson stood there looking down at me. I mean, that's what he'd been called up until recently. I'd seen him once a couple of years ago when the cops had made one of their special trips out to the projects to bust him for something or other. I remembered him being dragged kicking and screaming across the dirty brown grass of the projects and slammed up against the side of a patrol car while eight cops bad surrounded him, one of them supposedly frisking him by goosing him repeatedly with the end of a nightstick. They'd made so much noise, everybody at home that day in all four buildings had probably heard and seen it.

But this Luther Jackson looming above me, while technically the same person as the man of two years ago, seemed obviously different. For one thing, this was the first time I'd seen him since he'd changed his name to Rashid Barakwa. Maybe the name had done something for him. He looked taller than I'd remembered him, for instance. But what really made him different was that before, despite all his resistance, he'd looked beaten before he started with those cops. But now he looked indomitable, as if he could take on a whole squad of cops and still handle himself.

He was dressed all in leather that was polished to a sheen that matched his gleaming mahogany skin. I couldn't help but look up at him in awe. After just a few seconds of looking at him, the memory of his previous identity and what he had looked like before was erased.

His strong, dark face looked sternly down at me, giving me no clue of how he regarded my presence here. Finally, he averted his gaze from me and looked towards the men still hovering around me like flies. They literally jumped when he looked at them.

"What's going on here?" he demanded to know. "You dudes been hasslin' this lady?"

"Well ... uh ... I...." the one with the nylon stocking cap stammered. "It was ... uh ... like this ... See ... this lady was, uh, lookin' for directions, an' we was jes helpin' her out."

"Sure, sure," Barakwa said as though he were talking to a group of children. "That's why you and Washington got your pricks hangin' out." He gestured disdainfully at the big, muscular man, whose dick instantly went limp when he was singled out. "I suppose next you gonna tell me you was just usin' 'em to wave good-bye to her."

There was no answer to that, and all of them just held their heads down.

When he saw that they were properly humbled, he returned his gaze to me and reached down and helped me to my feet, putting his arm around my waist as he escorted me from the laundry room and back up the stairway. It was only when we were back in the hallway that he spoke.

"You must be crazy goin' down there, girl," he said, shaking his head. "Unless, of course, you was really lookin' for what they was offerin'."

"No, no," I said. "I was looking for you, as a matter-of-fact."

"How'd you know that's my-" He stopped and paused, before clearing his throat and adding office."

"I didn't," I said in surprise. "I just stumbled in there. But if that's your office, who're those men down there?"

He laughed with what I thought was just the slightest trace of embarrassment and said, "I hate to admit this even more than that's my office, but they're my assistants."

"Can't you do better than that?" I ventured.

"If I had the right set-up, I could attract better people, better volunteers," he, admitted as I noticed that he was capable of dropping his ghetto inflection at will. "But I ain't exactly the Urban League or the NAACP yet," he lapsed back into it, "so I take what volunteers I can get. And these dudes ain't got nothin' to do with their time but volunteer. You dig?"

I nodded that I understood.

"So why was you lookin' for me?"

We stood in the dark corridor as I told him my story about Collins and the ten points on our record that was getting us evicted, leaving out what had happened before Collins had announced he was putting the points on our record. However, even in the dark, I seemed to detect something from Barakwa's reaction to my story that he not only knew what I had left out, but also knew exactly what it was.

When I had finished the story, I found myself blushing in the dark and felt a peculiar twinge between my legs. But I shook it off in my eagerness to get some help, and pleaded, "Can you help me?"

"I think I can," he said confidently, and my heart soared with hope. "But I got to discuss it with you in private. Can't tell who might overhear us in these halls. The Housing Authority even got spies in this building."

"Here?" I said in surprise.

"Yeah. You'd think niggers'd know better," he said bitterly.

"Where shall we go?" I asked, anxious to get something happening to save the apartment.

However, thinking back on it, maybe there was a second motivation on my part: the desire to be alone with Barakwa, this man of excitement. For if the truth were known, even if I was trying to suppress it myself at the moment, I was being sexually turned on by him just by being in his physical presence, and we weren't even touching. I tried to ignore the dampening of my crotch; however, there was no way I could deny the sticky fabric of my sopping panties clinging lasciviously to my pussy.

"Let's try the janitor's storeroom," he said. "Nobody'll be usin' that room till tomorrow."

He led me from where we were standing to farther down the hall, and then around a comer until we were at an elevator which had an "Out of Order" sign draped across it.

He pulled a plastic card out of his wallet and went to work on the lock of an unmarked door next to the elevator. In a minute the door was open and he motioned me inside, kicking the door closed behind me.

After he pulled the chain on the light, he motioned me over to a bench adjacent to a pile of folded tarps.

I sat down, and, while he remained standing about a foot in front of me, Barakwa started talking about how he intended to handle my problem. "The thing is," he said, "if we go to court with it, we may win, but we may lose. These judges aroun' here don't pay no attention to the law-they just decide on their prejudices. Most of 'em are prejudiced against us, and once in a while for us."

"Then, what can I do?" I asked.

"I think the best thing to do is use your case as part of an example. Take it to the people," he said dramatically as he smashed his fist into his open palm for emphasis.

His power radiated before me as he made the gesture with his fist, and I felt myself overwhelmed by just being in the same room with him. By now I was forced to pay conscious attention to the moist phenomenon that was taking place between my legs, as my cunt would not stop creaming with excitement, inundating my panties all the way to the legs and around to the rear, making me feel, while I sat in a sticky pool accumulated in my jeans on the hard bench, as though I had wet my pants.

I felt a stream of pussy juice trickle down my inner thigh as I looked up at his strong dark face, starry-eyed, and asked him what kind of example he had in mind.

"We got a lotta people like you that're bein' ripped off by the Housing Authority with almost identical hassles. Been buildin' up after people heard 'bout some of our successes in the beginning. If we took all them to court, it'd take forever. So we gotta lump 'em together somehow to get the attention we need for action."

I was trying to pay attention to what he was saying, but by now the majority of my awareness was concentrated on the damp tightening in my crotch, the lusty friction of the sopping fabric of my panties rubbing maddeningly against my agitated pussy-lips. While I was trying to concentrate on his face, trying to listen to him, I didn't have the self-control to keep from taking surreptitious peeks at his groin, imagining what must be making the inviting rise in his leather pants just below the waist.

"Do you understand what I'm trying to get at?" he asked insistently, catching me paying attention to the suggestion of his cock and balls in his pants rather than to what he was trying to tell me.

"Oh ... yes ... yes ... sure," I said, stumbling over my words as I lifted my gaze to his face and blushed.

He looked down at me a long, quiet moment before he cleared his throat and resumed talking. "What I'm talkin' 'bout is a demonstration. Everybody with a bad rap from the Housing Authority in a demonstration smack dab in the middle of the projects until somethin' is done about the complaints. A sit down. And nobody moves until those bastards come across with what we want. We block the exits so they can't get in or out of the apartments of the people who're protesting."

Agreeing to that would be quite a commitment, not to mention what Eddie would think and do-even if our apartment was on the line-when he found out I was planning to camp on the ground in the middle of the projects, probably with a lot of blacks. Normally, I would have thought long and hard about the issues involved before I gave an answer whether I would participate in the plan. But there was no question at the moment. I was held completely in sway by the dynamic Barakwa, and would have followed him any place. The only indecision was what for: to save my apartment, or to do something about the tense, gooey feeling in my oozing cunt?

"Yes, I'll do it," I replied breathlessly.

"Are you sure?" he said, taking a step that closed the already small gap between us.

His leg touched my knee, just that minimal contact sending vibrations of further arousal coursing through my loins, singeing the arteries of my cunt with the rush of hot blood.

My eyes, as though they were under the control of my pussy instead of my brain, lowered from his handsome face to his groin again. Was my imagination deceiving me or had the mound between his legs swollen into a complete bulge, the outline of his cock and balls pulsing invitingly as his leather pants tightened ten inches down his leg?

Did he sense what was going on inside of me? I wondered desperately. Something had to happen quickly or I was going to have some explaining to do when my pussy juice drenched through my jeans and slid down my legs all the way to the tops of my shoes. Was I deceiving myself, or had his knowledge of my horny condition actually turned him on and made his dick grow?

It had fully come into my mind by now that I wanted to be taken by this powerful-looking black man. The promise of unrestrained sex with him had gradually pushed my problems with the Housing Authority out of my mind to the point where all my thoughts were now concentrated on an image of a long black dick sliding in and out of my clutching, frothy white pussy.

I wanted him to fuck me, there were no two ways about it. But at the same time I was so much in awe of him that I was afraid to change the subject from his proposed demonstration, so earnest and committed did he seem to be about it. Basking in his militancy, the idea of interrupting his planning for a fuck should have seemed frivolous, except that my pounding heart and pulsating tits and cunt didn't give a hoot about any social relevance as they ached to be sucked and fucked by this potential sex machine standing over me. I longed to have his long black shaft rubbing with the lubrication of its own cum between my solidly compressed tits, but I was immobilized by my anxiety from saying anything about my wanton desire.

He was talking about the planned demonstration, when he abruptly stopped and looked searchingly down at me for a long moment before he let his hand drop to his crotch and said softly, "Do you want to suck it?"

My answer was my flying hands zeroing in on his taut fly and unzipping it as fast as I could to get his prick. I immediately had it out, marveling at how its appearance so completely matched the image of it that I had been secretly savoring.

I wanted to see all of his magnificent body, so I unloosened the buckle of his belt and undid his pants, pulling them down along his long, muscular legs. He stepped out of them and I looked hungrily at his powerful thighs and high, sloping buttocks.

But most of all my mouth watered uncontrollably at his erect cock, standing straight out from the matted hair of his groin, two glistening balls looking like black eggs hanging down from the root of its throbbing shaft.

Just as I had made him naked, I wanted to enter into this just as totally myself. I didn't want any fumbling around later. When he finally slipped his sleek cock between the hairy, waiting lips of my quivering pussy, I wanted to touch nothing but his black skin. I wanted to feel that muscular black meat against me as he fucked me.

Quickly, I removed all of my clothing and stood there completely naked, pussy juice trickling down my legs as I watched him take off the rest of his leather.

When he was naked, I dropped to my knees before him as if I were worshiping at an altar, and slowly slid my trembling lips over the graceful lines of his stiff, protruding cock, looking down and getting even more turned on by the contrast of his ebony skin with my pink, puckering lips.

His cock had a rich and strong taste to it that sent shivers down my spine and all the way up through the pulpy mass of my twitching pussy. Slowly and elaborately, I worked my mouth up and down his elongated shaft, lingering tantalizingly on the bulging head of his prick and running my tongue sensuously over the tip and around the flange; and, then, without warning, plunging his dick into my mouth to the hilt, completely swallowing it so that only his tightening balls were visible.

While he rucked me in the mouth, my fingers played games with his balls, rubbing them as though they were magic and a genie would appear to grant me my wish if I kept it up. But if that had been true, and a genie or a fairy godmother had actually appeared, at that moment I would have sent them packing because I already had my wish with his power-laden, dusky prick ramrodding in my slobbering, sucking mouth.

"Down ... get down," he ordered me in a husky voice obviously tinged with the wonderful agony of. the maddening friction I was putting his cock and balls through.

I slowly lowered myself on my back onto the pile of tarps, throwing my hands around his waist and clinging to him, pulling him down with me so I wouldn't lose his luscious prick even for an instant.

He lay directly on top of me, his cock jammed all the way into my mouth. Then he slowly twisted his body around, the thin skin of his prick twisting deliciously in my grasping mouth as he did so. When he was finished with this maneuver, his pelvis slammed into my face in a powerful fucking motion as he reamed out my mouth and throat with his insistent tool while he simultaneously lowered his head between my open, trembling thighs and took a gentle but wanton bite out of my waiting, sopping cunt. I instantly closed my legs on him, trapping him in the web of my pussy so he couldn't escape.

Apparently he didn't mind being the prisoner of my thighs as he ate my pussy with the gusto of a starving man. Every thrust of his lips, tongue and teeth against my hairy, juicy gash accelerated my ecstasy and impelled me to try and get his cock even deeper in my mouth. I put my hands to his rock-like balls and felt them coated with my spit as I attempted to stuff them into my mouth along with his cock. I could only get one of them inside, but I made the best of it as I literally nibbled on it, knowing my work was appreciated when he bucked his hips at my face with a primitive rhythm.

The finger of a free hand traced the seam that went from the back of his balls all the way to his asshole. My sensitive fingertip could feel the ridges of his bung puckering at my touch, and, without hesitating, I immediately thrust my finger all the way to the second knuckle up his ass and began rotating it, expanding my radius as the muscles in his tight hole loosened.

Down below I was now meeting every gouge in my cunt by his voracious mouth with a powerful upward thrust, socking my sloppy, steaming cunt wantonly into his face. As it battered against his slurping mouth, I could hear the wet glove of my cunt compress from the impact, filling the room with the sound of a resounding squish, a spray of pussy juice flying from the union of his mouth and my box.

I could feel his stabbing prick continue to swell in my mouth, perceptibly verging on bursting forth with an explosion of spurting jism. I hated to take his tasty dick out of my mouth, but I wanted to feel the onslaught of his hot sperm inside my cunt, filling my insides with the impact of his creamy load.

I took his cock out of my mouth and sat up, rolling Barakwa over on his back so his prick was standing straight up in the air. I couldn't resist giving it a slurping kiss, lingering my tongue over the throbbing knob before I got down to business. I crouched over him, centering my gaping, dripping crotch over the standing target of his erect cock. Slowly I let myself down, easing the mantrap of my slobbering cunt over his waiting prick, and then continuing on down until the cheeks of my ass rested on his belly and .his cock was buried to his rock-like balls in my cunt.

I began rotating my hips and pelvis, feeling his cock twisting high up inside me, its head insistently nudging the opening to my womb. I felt his arms snake around me and his strong hands grasp my tits as I fucked him, his fingers fondling the hard marbles my nipples had become while his prick soared inside me.

His cock was so hard it was like sitting on a pole. I knew it would keep standing straight up no matter what I did, so slowly I began raising myself, agonizingly tugging his foreskin up his prick as I took it all the way to his knob with my clutching pussy. Balanced in mid-air with just the head of his dick snared between my grasping cunt-lips, I did a little dance, contracting my pussy muscles with all my might to keep his prick "inside me and to drive him wild as I shimmied with abandon. And, then, just as he started to moan in excruciation, I quickly dropped my ass to his loins, my cunt sliding down his stiff prick like a fireman going down a greased pole to a 3-alarm fire. My sloppy cunt landed against Barakwa's tensed muscles with a squishing splat as he met my charge with a fierce upward thrust of his hips, grinding his cock even farther up my pussy.

When he came, I wanted to be engulfed by him. I twisted around 180 degrees on his cock so that I was facing him. I took a quick downward look at his fantastic black prick buried inside the pale white glove of my pussy, and then pitched forward on him, his long cock still firmly imbedded inside my hole.

He rolled us over so that he was on top now, and crushed his heavy black lips on my mouth. His hot breath reeked of the aroma of my cunt and I loved it. I shot my tongue like a lance between his wet, fleshy lips and explored the inside of his mouth, tasting the delicious residual flavor of my own pussy while his cock bucked away inside my steaming snatch.

His hard muscles crushed against me as we fucked wildly. His powerful chest pressed tightly against my tits and flattened them. My nipples were rubbed into a state of turgid frenzy by the wiry hair on his chest, the only solution for their swelling being for me to come again and again until I was drowned in a sea of pure, unadulterated sexual pleasure.

Our pelvises and hips were welded together now as if they were part of the same person as we rocked up and down, back and forth, my pussy muscles clutching tighter and tighter around his charging cock. And, then, as he plowed into me with extra vigor so I felt as though his cock was going to go right through me, I realized that we had taken it as far as was humanly possible, that we had explored the dimensions of sucking and to fucking the maximum, and the only thing left to do was come.

A trillion volts of sexual electricity were suddenly unleashed from someplace inside me and instantly charred my body with their intensity, sending shocks of ecstasy through every bone and pore in an incredible burst of energy. I came again and again-each orgasm building on top of the others until I was swathed in a tissue of heavenly release.

He answered me by thrusting his cock even farther up my fuck-hole, extending some more when I would have thought he had already reached the ultimate. His cum erupted in a tidal wave against the spongy walls of my hungry cunt, bathing them with sticky sperm. The onslaught of rich, boiling jizz inside of me triggered a new surge of orgasm in me, and I wriggled like a speared frog impaled on his lance as I convulsed beneath him.

Finally, the last ounce of energy had been drained from each of us, and we lay side by side, our genitals oozing the last drops of orgasmic fluid. When we finally parted, after a long, lingering kiss during which I fucked his mouth with my ravenous tongue and clutched his cock and balls for good luck, we agreed that we would meet after the weekend on Monday, and, along with the other protesters, launch the demonstration against the Housing Authority.

CHAPTER SIX

Once I got home, the thrill of fucking Barakwa gradually began to mellow, until, finally, I wasn't wholly consumed with visions of his exquisite black prick snaking in and out of my pale cunt and mouth. And from that point on, once I started being aware of minute to minute reality, things started to deteriorate.

The weekend was hell. For one thing, if you can believe it, Eddie actually brought those two cops, Murphy and Slobotski, over for some drinks about one or two o'clock in the morning one night, and they unbelievably sat around and talked about a Filipino hooker they had gang-banged, refused to pay, and beaten up, while I waited on them. The next day I couldn't restrain myself and said something to Eddie about it, and he smacked me across the face and chipped one of my teeth.

Then there was Johnny, my twelve-year-old. He had come back after the fight with Eddie, but now he disappeared again. He never came in on Saturday night. I didn't want to call the police, being not ready to endure another experience with them at the moment, and on Sunday asked around the projects if anyone had seen my boy. A lot of people said that he was around, and that made me feel better.

Then, while I was walking back to the building, after looking around for him, I heard Johnny's familiar voice off in the background and turned around. By squinting my eyes I could just make him out running across the brown grass a few hundred yards away with a group of children. My God, they looked like a pack of wild dogs, I thought, as I called to him.

Finally, my cries reached his ears, and, in the midst of the frenzy of activity, he stopped and looked towards me.

"Johnny, come home," I called. "Come home."

He continued looking at me. Then, without calling back, he turned away from me and returned to the crowd, losing himself in its swirl as the gang of children moved away until it disappeared behind a building.

I hesitated, and then realizing that there was nothing I could do, walked sadly back towards home.

When I got inside, I intended to tell Eddie about Johnny and ask him what we should do, but he was completely lost in watching football on television. Finally, though, after I stood watching him with unconcealed disgust for a number of minutes, he did notice me.

"Where've ya been?" he demanded to know.

"I was looking for Johnny, he-" I said.

"Fuck that shit," he interrupted in a growl. "Let the kid take care of himself. Good for'm ... Now I been waitin' here for you to bring me a brew for so long I'm about ready to collapse from thirst. Get me a beer. Now!"

The pans and dishes in the kitchen were still rattling from Eddie's bellowing when I scooted in there and opened the refrigerator for some beer.

There wasn't any. I became hysterical.

"I've got to get out of here," I gasped to myself. I wasn't thinking in terms of permanence, however;

I was just reacting to my immediate gut feeling, the way I would have had I been stuck on a railroad track with a speeding locomotive coming at me.

I scribbled down a note, "Be back tomorrow. Take care of the kids," signed it with my first initial, and tiptoed out of the kitchen to the edge of the living room. It was easy to get out, so absorbed was Eddie in the spectacle of grown men smashing each other around in the television set. I tiptoed around the perimeter of the room, giving him a wide berth, and, then, at the most opportune moment, dashed for the front door and got it opened and closed before the big tub of lard could move a flabby muscle.

Now where would I go? I couldn't face the prospect of wandering aimlessly around the projects again, so I decided to go down to the fourth floor and see Myra, a sort of a friend of mine, and ask her if I could spend the night.

The main reason I picked on Myra was that I knew she had recently been divorced, meaning that she would have less of a reason to say no if I asked her if I could spend the night with her. Besides, in the times I had talked to her she had always seemed like she had a good sense of humor, and I thought maybe an evening with her would take my mind off some of my troubles.

I walked down the stairs to the fourth floor and found her apartment. She answered on the first knock, opening the door just slightly because of a chain she still had locked.

"Edna," she said, "what can I do for you?"

"Well ... I ... uh...," I stammered, unable to get what I wanted to say out, embarrassed now by my plight.

"Say, no more," she said, unlocking the chain and opening the door all the way. "You're having trouble at home and you want to know if you can spend the night. Am I right?"

"How did you know?" I asked in astonishment at her ability to apparently read my mind.

"It's a snap. I could see it in your face. I must have looked at the same expression in the mirror on my own face a million times while I was still married."

"Really?" I said, feeling perceptibly better knowing I wasn't alone in the world with the kind of problem I had.

"You better believe it," she said. "Anybody who's ever been married'll tell you the same, if she's honest. Come on in."

I gratefully accepted her invitation, and, as she closed the door behind us, asked, "You don't seem that way now. What'd you do about it?"

"Very observant, cookie," she said. "If you'll look around my apartment, you'll catch on to the answer to that real quick."

"I don't understand what you mean."

"Simple. Look around and tell me if you can find one sign, one trace of a man. Believe me, you won't. I threw my problems out the door."

"You, mean...."

"Right, kiddo, my husband. Once I got rid of that clown, my life began."

"But don't you miss having a man around?" I asked as I walked across the room and sat down.

"Not on your life," she replied emphatically.

"How's it turned out?" I asked with intense curiosity, wondering what it would be like to be completely on my own.

"See for yourself," she said happily, "I'm doing terrific."

"Don't you ever get lonely?"

"No," she scoffed as the sound of barking came from the kitchen and a big, shaggy German shepherd bounded into the living room and started sniffing my crotch.

"Down, boy," she said to the dog, patting him on the head. "I've found that Bluto here is better company than any man I ever knew. He's a lot more reliable, doesn't beat me up, doesn't squander my money, and is always there when I need him."

She seemed so positive and emphatic in her views that I felt uncomfortable about asking her any more questions which might imply reservations about her life-style. Anyway, how could I logically question anybody else's way of life? In any comparison, mine would come up short.

"Want a drink?" Myra asked, and, when I said yes, went into the kitchen and returned with a tall, frosty glass of something that tasted like heaven and put me immediately at ease.

What a pleasure it was to be sitting around quietly relaxing on a Sunday instead of being besieged by Eddie's infantile demands and barraged by the endless bone-crunching spectacle of football.

Myra had made a drink for herself and sat down beside me. "You feel like telling me what happened, or do you want me to mind my own business?" she said cheerfully.

I was delighted to have someone to confide in, to share my burden with. I told her how unhappy I was, and how confused. When I said I didn't think I had the strength to solve my problems the way she had, Myra was completely understanding.

"Don't worry about it now, honey," Myra said, throwing a gentle arm around me. "Just relax and take it easy. Spend a pleasant night here, and start to figure out what you're going to do tomorrow morning."

Tomorrow morning! I had forgotten all about it.

Barakwa and the demonstration. It was certain to be a hectic affair. Could I endure it? Could I afford not to?

I closed my eyes to seal off the torment from the impinging past and threatening future, and took a long swallow from my drink, not stopping until I saw the bottom of the glass. The alcohol plunged into my stomach like a lightning bolt and then emanated its warmth through my whole body, jarring my brain. I felt queasy at first, but within seconds I started to relax and feel comfortable.

"Ah, you're looking better," Myra said to me after I had started to loosen up. "Want something to eat?"

"Sure, sure, why not?" I said easily. "Can I help you with something?"

"Hell, no," Myra laughed as she started for the kitchen. "You're here for rest. Period."

What a delight it was to be around this woman. She was so pleasant and thoughtful. I couldn't help but think what my life would be like if I lived with someone like her. What a difference it would make!

Myra came briefly back into the living room to give me a fresh drink. I took a healthy swig from the new drink, and, as the alcohol rushed to my brain with a swoop, watched Myra walk back into the kitchen while I speculated on the issue of sex.

What if I did live with someone like Myra? What would I do with myself when I started to feel horny? More than a little tipsy, I eyed her walking away from me, noticing the form of her body as the light shone through the loose muumuu she was wearing to give definition to her shape. How different it was than a man's, than Eddie's.

My mind made a picture of Eddie in the nude, his pot belly hanging grossly over his shriveled-up cock and balls, supported by skinny, match-stick legs.

I imagined Myra beneath her muumuu, picturing long, flowing lines, taut muscles and gentle slopes of soft flesh.

I tried to picture myself holding each of them. The smell of garbage from Eddie wafted into my nostrils from my imagination. Without actually touching anything I could feel the clammy flab of Eddie's hanging, yellow fat.

Then I was on satin sheets holding someone like Myra, our tits pressed together in our embrace, the nipples crushing each other like rose petals; the soft down of our pussies intermingling as our clits rubbed against each other; our smooth legs intertwined.

Abruptly, my thoughts were interrupted by Myra calling from the kitchen, "You're so quiet in there, kid. A penny for your thoughts."

Uncontrollably, I found myself blushing, and my crotch suddenly felt hot and scratchy in my panties. "Oh ... nothing ... it's nothing...." I stammered warily.

"Oh, it's something all right," she said. "But it's best for you to get it out in your own sweet time ... Now, you about ready to eat?"

I said I was, and in ten minutes we were seated across from each other at the kitchen table eating dinner.

The part about the dinner that I'll always remember was the Polish sausage. When she was eating, Myra was like she apparently was about everything else: enthusiastic. She explained to me that she didn't like to cut the sausage with a knife because a lot of the juice ran out on the plate that way. That explained to me in advance so I wouldn't be horrified by her table manners, she took a huge piece of sausage almost a foot long and stuck the rounded end in her mouth and chomped down on it.

As her mouth closed over the end of the long tube of sausage, J could hear the juice spurting into her mouth, and actually see some of it that had escaped trickling thickly down her chin.

I had already finished my second stiff drink and was working on another one. I wasn't used to so much alcohol, and the amount I had had clouded my mind and made it difficult for me to mentally put my finger on things. I was just floating, feeling what came to me. So when she stuffed that sausage in her mouth and the juice came spurting out, I instantaneously felt turned on without immediately understanding why.

"What's the matter, hon?" she asked in the midst of chewing the sausage, some more of its succulent juice dribbling from the corner of her mouth.

I looked at her blankly. Eventually, as I refocused my eyes, I blurted, "It looks just like a prick," and broke into giggles without making any connection between the growing tightness in my cunt and what I had just said.

She raised her eyebrows and said, "A nice girl like you using such language, tsk, tsk," and then broke up, too.

As Myra laughed, I could see the suggestion of her tits wobbling freely beneath the loose fabric of her clothing. At one point I thought I could make out the faintest outline of her nipples.

Recovering from her laughter, she said, "You're right. It does look like somebody's prick. And believe me, that's the only way I want one-cut off from its owner."

I suppose I nodded, but at the moment my mind was a thousand miles away. I was imagining the sausage, stiffened from its natural curve, its round end defined into a jutting head, rolling disembodied over what I envisioned Myra's naked body to be like. It moved on its own, rolling over her belly, and then she grabbed it and pressed it between her tits. It got loose, rubbing its flanged head insistently against her pursed lips before she caught it again and thrust it between her open legs, stuffing it into her moist, hairy pussy. It worked its way out of her cunt and protruded from between her thighs, looking like it was part of her body, its shaft emerging from the curly thicket of her groin. She grabbed it, wrapping her hands around it and tugging vigorously. The juice spit at least six inches in the air as she tugged too hard and the sausage came apart in her hands, settling into a greasy, steaming pile of glistening meat over her furry cunt-mound.

"Jesus, kid," she said with concern, "you all right? You look right now like you're in outer space."

She got up and came around the table. As she did so, I could see the lines of her body working against the fabric of her muumuu, and something occurred to me that in my high condition I couldn't restrain from pointing out.

"You don't have anything on under that," I declared breathlessly.

"A person should be comfortable in her own home," she responded with a smile. "Sometimes, even this is too much bother for me and I just fling it off and run around naked as a jaybird."

She looked me right in the eye, and then exclaimed, "Like this!"

The muumuu was off in an instant and she stood before me. I was right-she had been totally naked underneath it.

I couldn't take my eyes off her body. It was everything I had imagined, and more. Myra must have been in her late thirties or early forties, but you would never have known it by her body. Especially her tits. They were great, sloping masterpieces, with hard, taut flesh sloping down and then swooping up so that each of her long, pink nipples was like the spout at the end of a tea-pot.

And then those nipples, before my eyes, changed from a rosy pink to a fiery red texture, growing by the second until they stuck straight out in turgid erection.

As Myra's nipples grew redder and harder, my cunt started to gush, filling my panties with a discharge of creamy fluid as I twitched uncontrollably.

The sopping between my thighs, combined with the hot flashes from the thrilling sight of Myra's tits, disoriented me, and I bolted to my feet with my mouth agape, wanting to say something, but frustrated by my inability to find any words.

I could see by the smile on her face that she understood. Without saying a word she stated loudly and clearly, "Look all you want."

And I did. My eyes finally passed from her exquisite tits down the muscular seam of her hard stomach. Her cocked legs and parted legs gave me a perfect shot of her belly working down into the thatch of her bush, a hairy forest that curled all over her crotch and along the sides of her inner thighs, the most luxuriant growth of cunt hair I had ever seen. I couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to bury my face in such a growth, or to feel my own cunt pressing against it.

From her pussy, sinewy, long legs descended gracefully to the floor. Even her feet seemed beautiful to me as they supported her strong, lean body.

I was dumbfounded from the combination of the alcohol and the shimmering beauty before me. I shook my head to clear it, but undefined obsessions inside my skull refused to leave, and I found myself still panting and confused, all of my awareness suddenly focused on the sensation of a glob of pussy juice seeping out of the leg of my panties and sliding down my leg.

Myra advanced towards me until her erect nipples were actually brushing against my tits, teasing themselves against the fabric of my sweater. Their stiffness was so profound that I could easily feel their points through the material.

"You know you want it," Myra cooed soothingly. "You don't have to say anything, because I know it, too."

I was dumbfounded. How did she know even before I seemed to know myself that I wanted to make love with her? In addition to her other qualities, could she also read my mind?

It made no difference how she figured out I craved her body. The only important thing was that we were alone together with nothing to stop us from exploring and titillating each other's bodies to the ultimate.

My reply to her bold assertion about my desires was to confirm her statement by throwing my arms around her neck and crushing my lips to hers, thrusting my hot tongue into her wet mouth. She met my oral thrust with her own licking tongue, and added to the total thrill by rubbing her naked belly against me, spreading her legs so that her hard stomach pressed tightly against me all the way down to the crinkly hair of her bush.

From the way she was rubbing against me, I didn't need an engraved invitation to know what to do next. I thrust my leg up between her parted thighs, feeling the hot dampness of her cunt against my skin.

After we had Frenched for so long I was fighting for breath, I pulled away, preparing to remove my clothes so our naked bodies would have no artificial barriers between them as we made love.

But when I began to pull my sweater over my head, I heard Myra cry, "No, no, let me do it."

I pulled the sweater back down and stood there with my heart pounding, waiting for her to tell me what to do next.

"Lie down and relax," she said. "Let me take care of everything."

I did as she instructed, lying on my back in the middle of her living-room carpet, wondering incongruously for a moment how she had managed to get such an expensive rug in here without the Housing Authority finding out about it and investigating her financial eligibility.

She walked saucily towards me, sexily twitching her hips as she moved, causing the muscles in her hard abdomen to come excitingly to life. She dropped to her knees, and, placing a hand on each knee, slowly parted my legs. My skirt fell to my waist, exposing my horny cunt covered only by panties transparent from their dampness.

"I see you're good and wet," she said with a chuckle, and then moved in between my open legs and pressed her nose to the sopping fabric of my panties, taking a long, lingering sniff.

"Mmmmm," she moaned as she nuzzled her nose against my pussy, "I love it."

One of her fingers snaked inside the elastic of my panty-leg and pushed aside the damp fabric enough .to creep across the fringe of my cunt hair and tickle my slobbering pussy-lips.

"Oh, God, stick it in," I groaned from the floor, dying to taste something inside my ravenous cunt.

"Musn't get ahead of ourselves," she tittered, pulling out her finger. "First things first."

She withdrew from between my thighs and inserted the finger she had just wiped my pussy with into her mouth, smacking her lips from the taste of my cunt juice.

"And they say sperm tastes good," she said contemptuously. "Pussy juice is not only better tasting, it's better for you. It's less starchy and has fewer calories than jism."

When she was finished savoring the juice of my cunt, Myra turned her attention to my clothing, and began removing it. She took her time, carefully unbuttoning and unzipping everything, and folding them in a neat pile on the floor beside us. First, my blouse came off, accompanied by several soft caresses of my tits as she unbuttoned it. Then my skirt was unfastened and drawn over my legs. My bra was unhooked and my freed tits allowed to spill easily over my heaving chest. She flicked my nipples into turgid knobs before she finally moved down to the last item, my panties, slowly working them over my hips, down my thighs, over my knees, and along my calves and ankles until they were over my feet and I was totally nude.

Then, from my vantage point, looking down my body and out through the V of my gaping legs, I saw her take my sopping panties, and, wringing them like a wet washrag, put them over her open mouth and squeeze every last drop of my pussy juice out of them, some of it drooling languorously down her chin.

"Delicious," she said when she was finished, running her tongue over her sticky lips. "It's like eating the olive from a martini."

When she was finished, she threw the panties over with my other clothing and hurled her body on top of mine, our mouths squashing hotly against each other once more, our stabbing tongues getting out of each other's way so they could penetrate the other's lips.

Myra's large, hard tits pressed against mine, our nipples so hard we were practically in danger of puncturing each other's tits. The column of muscles starting beneath her tits and descending down to her groin throbbed against my body as I trembled under her expert touch.

Her knee was in my crotch, pushing up against my cunt, bathing its smooth skin in the soggy sponge of my pussy. But, then, she pulled it out and moved her pussy directly on top of mine, wiggling her pelvis until she was in the exact position she wanted.

In a moment I could see why she was so meticulous about where she placed herself. Our pussies were directly together, each fold and crevice pressing against the corresponding detail on the other's cunt. Our slimy cunt-lips vertically kissed, the bubbling froth of our discharges intermingling into a sticky soup. And, most importantly, our clits had collided, each of them stabbing against the other, causing our hips to undulate with unrestrained passion.

As our cunts and mouths kissed, I became obsessed with the slurping thrill of a drooling orifice to suck and probe. The more I tasted Myra's sweet kisses, and felt our thrusting pussies squish together, the more eager I became for the ultimate of oral love.

I broke my lips free from Myra's mouth and moved them wetly against her cheek up to her ear. "Your cunt," I whispered. "I want to eat your cunt. I want to taste it. I want to suck it."

Wordlessly, she moved her body around on top of me, using her hard stomach as a pivot until the extremities of her body were completely reversed and her head was buried between my quivering thighs, while the sopping, vibrating gash of her hairy, slobbering cunt looked me squarely in the eye.

I placed my hands on the firm cheeks of her ass and dug my fingers into their solid flesh, bringing the mouth of her hairy cunt to my waiting, hungry mouth. Greedily, I clamped my lips and teeth around the folds of her pussy, taking her spongy, dripping labes completely into my mouth as I shot the hot poker of my tongue into her slit and crammed it at least three inches into her fuck-hole.

The sensitive taste-buds on my tongue were inundated immediately with the stinging flavor of the inside of her cunt, the sweet essence of the cream from her arousal mixing with the acrid taste of urine. The heady concoction sent shivers down my spine as I felt her wonderfully strong pussy muscles actually squeeze my tongue as though it were a hot, driving cock inside of her.

Down below, her experienced mouth was lapping up a froth between my legs, licking my pussy-lips and clit with a raspy tongue that was leaving me swimming in a pool of my own secretions and her warm spit. I bucked my crotch uncontrollably upward and felt her tongue meet my thrust with a plunge into my cunt, searing my sensitive tissues with its rasping heat.

I pushed my tongue to the hilt into Myra's pussy, and then slowly withdrew it until it was completely out and I was tickling her clit with its sensitive tip. From her clit, I slid my tongue along the crevice of her pulpy cunt-lips all the way to the bottom of her slit. I could feel a few curly strands of pussy hair sticking between my teeth as I continued my downward journey, stopping when the tip of my tongue scraped over the puckered ridges of her asshole.

I threw my arm across my stomach, my fingers alongside of Myra's buried face. Carefully I worked a finger down along her cheek and to where her mouth was greedily eating my cunt. I rubbed my finger in the first available glob of pussy juice stickily mixed with spit, and then returned it to the pulsing haunches that faced me. Slowly, I worked the sticky glob I had taken from my cunt into the tiny opening of her asshole, making sure that the tight skin was thoroughly lubricated. When I had finished, I slowly pushed my finger into her butt, watching it slowly disappear into her asshole, greased by our own discharges.

While I fingered her asshole, I returned my mouth to Myra's pussy, licking and eating deliriously, pressing the finger probing in her ass through the thin wall to meet my tongue sloshing in her cunt.

The interior of Myra's asshole felt more flexible now, so I lost no time in inserting a second finger, and then a third. Her bung was coated by the goo transferred from our cunts and mouths, and my fingers slid easily back and forth, going in all the way to touch the warm tissue of her colon, and then drawing all the way back to the fingertips.

My heart leapt and my pussy tightened as I realized there was room for even more probing up her ass as I added a fourth finger, and finally a fifth. My whole hand imbedded itself in her asshole to the wrist, and, when I slowly compressed it into a fist, I could see the bulge from inside stretching the cheeks of her ass apart and distending her cunt so that it was as open as if it were yawning.

While I rotated my fist up Myra's ass, I threw my face into the abnormally open cavern her pussy had become, getting my chin, mouth and nose inside her lathering gash, completely immersing myself in her copious discharge.

Suddenly, my ecstasy was pierced with the knowledge mat I wasn't alone in thrilling to Myra's ripe flesh and its scent and secretion. Something wet and cold that wasn't attached to either of us pressed against my cheek, and when I glanced to the side I saw the inquisitive black nose of Myra's German shepherd, Bluto, sniffing more than just curiously at the slathering box of his mistress.

Before I could do anything about it, Bluto's long, red tongue shot out of his mouth and joined mine in lapping at Myra's cunt. I didn't have time to react before Myra's body suddenly tensed like a drawn bow-string, and then buckled as she came with an orgasmic shudder, sending forth a new onslaught of thick, gooey discharge.

The dog and I were no different as we each greedily lapped up as much of Myra's cunt juice as we could devour. Only when I extracted my hand from her asshole did Bluto stop devouring Myra's pussy, immediately shifting his attention to the fragrance of my hand, which reeked from the odor of her quivering bowels.

Myra, thoroughly spent from having come, shuddered one last time and rolled in a heap off of me. But I was still ready to go. More than ready. Not only hadn't I come yet, but seeing her in the throes of climax and then languishing in its afterglow, my desire to feel the shuddering finality of orgasm became overwhelming.

I looked desperately over at the reclining Myra, begging her with my eyes not to leave me high and dry.

She saw my distress and crooned, "Poor baby, still haven't got your rocks off. Don't worry, we'll get you there."

She reached out for me and cupped one of my hanging tits, kneading the turgidly erect nipple with her palm before she said, "Just do what I say and everything will be all right."

"Will I come?" I asked frantically. "I've got to come. I want to feel it in my cunt. My cunt's begging for it."

"Don't worry," Myra crooned. "Now just get up for Myra and turn over so you're on your hands and knees."

I did it immediately. At that moment I would have gone through fire to feel myself come. I got on all fours, and, when she told me to lower my head, I propped myself on my elbows and laid my cheek on the floor. In the rear I could feel my cunt and asshole thrusting out from my parted buns, the sensitive skin stretching and the dew of my excess pussy juice drying in the open air.

With my head resting on the floor, my mind was full of images of sex, all of them piling into my imagination at once, lewdly superimposed on top of each other. Enormous juicy cunts, engorged with blood and dripping with hair and pussy secretion, quaked and gasped; massive pricks rubbed against turgid clits and pushed their way up puckering assholes; pursing mouths sucked tits, cock and cunts; pools of cum seemed to drip stickily from everything in a glorious montage of sucking, fucking, and eating.

And then, as my mind continued to accelerate in a frenzy of kinkiness, I suddenly felt something wet and warm throbbing against the taut folds of my pussy. At first I thought perhaps my wild imagination was making me only think that somebody was at long last sticking a cock in me; but when I felt the pulsating veins throbbing against my sensitive cunt walls in the iron shaft of the searing ramrod being thrust abruptly inside my hole, I knew I was being fucked for real. "

I figured it must be a dildo, strapped around Myra's waist, as she attacked me from the rear and reamed me out good. But then, astonishingly, I saw Myra's face looking down at me so that it could not be her hunched over my back, grinding away at my cunt. Simultaneously, I realized that whatever was fucking me was too warm and wet to be a dildo. No rubber and plastic concoction could re-create the moist fire of a real prick, and that's what was jackhammering away inside of me.

It was a real prick in my cunt, I suddenly became certain. But whose was it? I looked around my shoulder, and, in my alarm, saw.

Bluto, Myra's German shepherd dog, was fucking me! No wonder Myra had insisted I position myself in the doggie position; she intended all along for me to be fucked by her dog. Now I knew what she meant about not needing a man around!

A voice from some corner of my mind told me that I should be repelled, disgusted by what was happening to me. But a source from some other point in my brain called to me much louder, completely obliterating the first impulse, telling me that it didn't make a difference if a dog, or a pig, or a rhinoceros was fucking me. Any cock that felt this good inside a woman's cunt was the natural thing to do, regardless of the owner's identity.

Myra's arm was snaked around me, her hand skillfully guiding the dog's prick into my pussy, and rubbing his balls. As he hunched over me, Bluto seemed like a massive creature, more like a rabid wolf or grizzly bear than a mere domesticated house pet. The sight of his sex-crazed face, his long red tongue hanging out with a long string of drool hanging from it and his sharp white teeth glistening in the light, made me tighten my cunt muscles to the ultimate around his thrusting prick as my mind carried itself away and imagined that I was being raped my nature itself, all of the earthy, basic forces in the earth coalescing into a huge missile that was being launched between my legs, filling my cunt with the euphoria of all that was simple and good and pleasurable in life.

Now we were getting down to the . real nitty-gritty as' I could feel myself on the verge of a shattering orgasm and sense the dog's hot cock swelling at the knotty end with the stark promise of an imminent onslaught of gushing, sticky animal sperm. I automatically clenched my cunt muscles to the ultimate, creating a knot of gristle and sinew designed to squeeze every last drop of cum from my fucker's engorged prick. The dog rammed his cock into me farther than he ever had before, the end of his cock scraping against my cervix, his fur prickling the back of my thighs and ass as he draped himself on me while he strived to totally imbed his dick in my twat.

My mouth flew open at the preface of the orgasm I felt approaching, and, as it did, Myra's face suddenly appeared before me and her red, wet mouth closed over mine. Our tongues fenced between the seal of our lips as we Frenched while Bluto made his last glorious thrust up my cunt and released his load of thick, steaming dog-sperm.

Climactic waves suddenly overpowered me as they coursed uncontrollably through my body, charging me with excruciatingly tantalizing vibrations. I came and came again as I felt Myra's lips on mine and Bluto spurting repeatedly in my cunt, still working his prick back and forth, but now lubricated by a heavy load of his own sticky sperm.

Finally, after what seemed to be a Fourth of July of shooting rockets and thrilling explosions, I finished coming and rolled over on my side, feeling the dog's still erect cock sliding reluctantly out of my cunt. I curled up on the floor and began contentedly sucking my thumb. From my baby-doll position I saw the most extraordinary thing, something which would have normally shocked me beyond belief, but which now seemed the most natural and beautiful thing in the world.

Myra and her dog were together now. The dog sat on his haunches, panting heavily, his tongue drooling and his cock standing straight out from his hairy sheath.

"Sit, sit," she kept commanding him down.

Finally, when she had him as steady as she was going to get him, she reached her hand down for his throbbing prick and began stroking and rubbing it. It was long and red and coated with its own dripping sperm. The exterior deposit of cum was so attractive that it didn't take long for Myra to move her hand down to his furry balls while she placed her head between his quivering haunches and began sucking his prick. Expertly, her lips coursed up and down his glistening shaft, cleaning it of the excess jizz, which she swallowed with a delighted gulp.

Myra's lips would plunge to the root of the dog's prick, and then go even farther than that as she would briefly enclosed his balls within her voracious mouth. Then she would be sliding back up his shaft again, slowly working her way to the top where she kissed the end of his dick. I couldn't believe how strong and rigid his cock remained, and how it only seemed to get stiffer no matter how much stimulation it received.

Suddenly, she began masturbating him, working his foreskin frantically up and down his fiery shaft. "I want him to come in my mouth," she explained, "I've got to get him ready."

When his cock looked as though it were at the bursting point, she thrust it into her hungry mouth. Immediately, from the way he thrust his loins convulsively into her face, and mostly from Myra's delighted expression, I could tell that the dog had come and was now spewing an eruption of hot, syrupy dog-jizz in her ravenous mouth.

She wouldn't stop sucking him, trying to force the last drop of sperm out of his balls. He bucked more and more wildly in her face, and, just when I thought she was going to suck him to death, I noticed the expansion of her cheeks and then saw her open her mouth and a cascade of milky, frothing dog-sperm come gushing out, a bigger load than she could hold or swallow all at once.

The cum covered her face with a layer of goo, and bathed her neck and tits. She threw herself at me, and immediately I fell on her, licking her face and tits, lapping up the simmering sperm and tasting her sweet body simultaneously.

Finally, she got up and helped me to my feet. We had just enough strength to make it into the bedroom, where we collapsed in bed in each other's arms, our tits and cunts pressing softly and reassuringly against each other. The last thing I remember before falling asleep was Bluto hopping into bed with us, and settling his moist, warm dick against my ass.

CHAPTER SEVEN

What a night's sleep I had. I must have been out at least twelve hours. But no matter how long you sleep there's always tomorrow, and all the sleep in the world wasn't going to make it easy for me when Monday was finally here and I had to throw myself into Barakwa's demonstration as I had promised both him and myself.

When I finally woke up, Bluto was the only one in bed with me. I turned over on my back and yawned and stretched, holding my arms over my head and kicking my parted legs out in front of me. Bluto immediately took the opportunity presented by my exposed cunt and stuck his cold nose between my thighs, sending his warm, rasping tongue swishing over my pussy.

"Not now, you silly," I giggled as I pushed him away and sat up in bed, looking around for Myra. My eyes caught the clock, and, when I saw what time it was, I realized that Myra had thoughtfully let me sleep in while she got up and got ready to go to work at the beauty parlor where she was a cosmetologist.

I got up and found a note she had left taped to the refrigerator, saying,

"Coffee's on the stove, hon. Thanks for a delightful evening. Hope you & your hubby fight again real soon, so we can get together. If you know what I mean, ha, ha.

XXXXOOOXXXOOO, Myra."

In the corner of the note there was a cartoon drawing of a hairy, slobbering pussy being licked by a long, slurping tongue, the word "you" pointing with an arrow to the cunt, while "me" pointed to the tongue.

I had a cup of coffee and then took a shower to clean all the congealed cunt juice, spit, and dog-sperm that layered me, not only clogging my cunt, but splotched all over my body. When I was finished, I got dressed and went through the living room to the front door, turning around and reluctantly saying good-bye to the inside of Myra's apartment, the only escape from reality I had ever discovered. As I slowly turned to open the door and leave, the sound of padding feet came up behind me and I looked around and saw Bluto.

"See you later, old boy," I said fondly, leaning down and scratching his ears.

He wagged his bushy tail, and, just as fresh as ever, poked his inquisitive nose under the hem of my skirt and took a quick sniff of my cunt. I used my laughter at his act as the impetus to quickly open and close the door and step outside into the hall before I decided to chuck it all and stay at Myra's forever.

The hall immediately placed me completely back into the grubby paw of reality. Myra had fixed up the inside of her apartment so that you never would have guessed it was in the projects if you had just seen the interior. But, unfortunately, you couldn't get to and from the inside without passing through the outside, and there was nothing Myra or anyone else-except, of course, for the Housing Authority, which in this case might as well have been the government of Saturn-could do about that.

I turned and walked to the stairway, going down the four floors to the mezzanine. I breathed a sigh of relief when I smelled fresh air again.

The sun. The brown grass. People milling across the way in front of the south building. This was it. Monday.

I was ready to start walking towards the beginnings of the demonstration in front of the south building. But after a couple of steps, an impulse took ahold of me and turned me around, and before I knew it I was back in my old building, chugging up the nine flights of stairs to our apartment.

The incentive for my retreat was hollering in my ears, no longer the slightest bit vague. The children.

How could I commit myself to anything when I hadn't even committed myself to being a good mother?

But how could I ever hope to be a good mother living in the projects? The projects were ruining my mind while they stole my kids from me at the same time. Conditions had to improve if we were ever going to function as a happy family, and the demonstration against our living conditions seemed like a good means toward that end.

But what about right now? Were my kids all right? I had to know if they were all right before I could go a step further toward that demonstration.

Once inside the apartment I looked around frantically for signs of them. I poked my head inside their room and looked around. Clothes and toys were strewn about, and the beds were unmade. Was that a sign that they'd been there, or that their mother didn't take good care of them?

They each had a bed on one side of the room. I walked inside the room and stood between, looking back and forth between Johnny's and Janie's beds, feeling a change in the temper of my emotions. It occurred to me for the first time that maybe Johnny and Janie were too old now to be sleeping in the same bedroom.

I was trembling already when my shaking coalesced into a blinding shudder as I blurted, "What if they're-" and then followed with a whisper of dread-"sleeping together...."

I went over to Janie's bed and rooted around in her bed clothes. There was no evidence of anything there but my little girl, and I turned more confidently to Johnny's bed.

His pajamas from whenever the last time he'd slept there were bunched at the end of the bed. I picked them up and they seemed fresh. Maybe he had been here last night. Oh, I should have been here so he wouldn't have had to cope with Eddie alone, I thought. But at least it looked like he'd come home.

I was almost convinced that things were fairly under control, even perhaps improving, when, just before I intended to walk away from Johnny's bed, on a last-minute impulse I threw back his covers.

In the middle of the sheet, concealed until now by the rest of the bedding, was a familiar item. The only problem was that it didn't belong to my son.

In the middle of Johnny's bed was the pink fabric of a pair of Janie's panties, where she had obviously left them when she had been in bed with him. I picked them up, trying to tell myself it was just a coincidence, that there was nothing so obvious about it at all, except for the predictable leaps of my imagination.

But there was no mistaking the sopping condition of Janie's panties, or the rich, familiar, pungent odor of sex that permeated them. Maybe Johnny wasn't old enough to produce a load of sperm, but I had a long enough memory to know that there's no limit on when a girl is old enough to have her pussy flow with the sticky excitement of sex.

As I. looked at the tiny piece of cloth, literally dripping from my hand, it occurred to me that they were fresh, and also that I recalled them as the ones Janie had been wearing the last time I'd seen her.

"That means Johnny was definitely here last night or this morning," I whispered to myself, expecting a traumatic reaction at my acknowledgement of the two of them in bed together. But, paradoxically, my heart rejoiced with the knowledge.

Shaken by my unexpected reaction, I tried to force myself into alarm. What about what they had been doing, I lectured myself, wasn't it bad? Was my twelve-year-old son really fucking his ten-year-old sister? I tried to turn on the disgust, but there was none to be had.

Something quelled my disapproval, and after a couple of moments of straining to feel rotten, I realized that the barrier to feeling bad was something very basic, because my pussy was suddenly contracting like mad and leaking into the crotch of my panties.

Of course I would recognize the aroma of Janie's little cunt on her panties, I realized in a shock of self-recognition, when I had just so recently sucked and licked it myself.

I walked over to the bureau they shared and looked at myself in the mirror and hissed accusingly at myself, "Child-fucker," making a last, vain attempt to feel what I was sure was normal disgust and shame.

How could I be angry at my son "for something I had previously done myself, and with relish?

I wondered if she had told him Mommy had done it to her first? If Mommy did it better?

I wondered if Johnny was jealous. Why should his sister get to taste and feel Mommy's cunt and not him? Did he want me?

Would I fuck him if I had the opportunity?

In trying to force myself to feel some guilt with every rotten idea I could summon, all I succeeded in doing was driving myself increasingly crazy, as every wild accusation I dreamed up led to a vivid creation in my imagination of the act involved, turning me on in ascending leaps of my pulse and concentric tightening of my squishing cunt.

I had to get out of there before I went totally berserk. The way I was thinking, I was so mixed up I had to get away from the reminder of my kids or I might do something desperate.

I fled their room and dashed across the living room. Just before I went out the door I noticed a note, scribbled in what looked like purple crayon in Eddie unmistakable semiliterate scrawl. It said, "Call me at work, bitch. E."

"I'll do it later," I panted to myself, anxious to get outside and get my head into something else quickly.

I left the apartment and dashed down the hall to the stairs. I stopped and hesitated before I descended them, realizing that my cunt was so tight and juicy I was likely to have trouble walking. I had a vision of myself slipping and falling on a blob of my own pussy juice that had dripped on a step from between my legs.

To relieve myself I put my hand under my dress and frantically slipped it under the elastic waistband of my panties. My fingers immediately immersed themselves in the tangle of my beaver and worked down towards the moist quivering of my swollen, throbbing pussy-lips. I shoved my fingers through the slimy folds of my labes and felt them engulfed by the hot, spongy interior of my cunt, bathed in the hot syrup of my discharge.

Lovingly, I worked my fingers in and out, agitating my pussy to the bursting point before I crushed my thumb against my turgid clit and felt myself come with a shudder, a rush of cunt juice gushing from my hole and inundating my fingers and panties, dampening the inside of my thighs.

When the trembling of my orgasm had finally ceased, I removed my hand from the warm embrace of my crotch, took a deep breath, and started moving. The stairs flew under my feet as I raced down the nine flights to the bottom floor. I dashed across the mezzanine to the outside, not breaking stride from the bottom of the stairs to halfway across the brown grass towards the south building when I finally realized that I was hopelessly out of breath.

Things had already started to get lively by the time I reached the crowd in front of the south building. It was bigger than when I had first seen it. Barakwa had really gotten them out, it seemed.

I looked around for him, uncertain, of myself among this group of strangers, almost all of them black. It was obvious that almost all of his recruiting had been done in the south building.

But Barakwa was nowhere around. The demonstration was apparently getting started without him, without any leader. No one was telling them what to do. They didn't have to. They were all angry about the way the Housing Authority had treated them, and talking to each other and comparing their complaints fueled the fires of their dissatisfaction.

I stood on the fringe of the crowd, having given up hope of finding Barakwa at the moment, and wondering if I should leave while I still could.

I was still wavering in my indecision when the choice was suddenly made for me. A strong, heavy-set black woman, apparently in her forties, grabbed me by the arm with a powerful hand and pulled me into a circle of people that had formed within the larger group.

Another black woman was holding sway, and the people in the circle listened tensely as she told them in a broad Southern accent about roaches she had in her apartment that were the size of mice.

When the angry mutters of the others had finally subsided, the woman noticed my presence and looked at me with piercing eyes, sending a stony gaze at me that was not designed to notice or acknowledge me, but to size me up.

She wanted to say, "What're you doing here, whitey?", I'm sure. But instead it came out a challenging, "What'd they do to you?" and I knew that I was being put to the test.

There was no way out. Somehow they had gradually elbowed and pushed me until I was in the middle of their circle. Their eyes burned in their dark faces as they awaited my reply, their expressions dripping with judgments.

So I told them. I told them about the ten points for putting the beer cans in the trash cans, and the eviction notice that had followed. And when I was finished, I waited with my breath held.

"I dunno," an overweight man said, his bulbous black belly barely covered by his grimy Thunderbird wine T-shirt. "She coulda heard that anywhere."

"What you gettin' at?" the first woman asked.

"I mean, how we know she not a spy?"

The others looked at me grimly, ominously assessing his charge.

I squirmed, trying to think of a way to redeem myself, or at least get them off my back. Suddenly, the logical reply poured out of my mouth: "You think the Housing Authority is so dumb they'd send a white spy into a group of black people?" I said, astounded at my courage and candor.

"Well," the fat man making the charges drawled, "they dumb ... but they ain't that dumb."

"Yeah, you all right, lady," somebody else said, and the tension lifted. In a moment they were all joking and complaining about the Housing Authority again, oblivious to my color. Somehow, it made me feel pretty good.

Everything stayed pretty quiet for a while, but it was only the calm before the storm. Within half an hour, all hell broke loose.

The cops descended quietly, and then barked out warnings to disperse over megaphones. When they were ignored, they began lobbing tear gas at us.

The crowd went into a panic and began muttering in confusion, looking at each other for some sort of guidance.

Where was Barakwa? I kept wondering. Why wasn't he here to guide and lead the crowd? What in the name of God were we going to do?

And then, abruptly, the answer seemed to come to the crowd collectively.

In a mass we turned towards the south building and moved towards it.

"Let's waste it!" a man bellowed. "Let's show the honkey mother-fuckers what they can do with their damn building!"

The crowd advanced ominously at a quickened pace toward the south building, its malice and willingness to do something about it accelerating with every second.

Suddenly, another man made some space for himself within the surging crowd and cried, "Not our building, not the building where we live! Let's not turn on ourselves!"

"What you wanna do, Uncle Tom, send 'em a post card?" a derisive cry replied from somewhere in the mob.

"Shut up, nigger," the man said. "I'll show you what kinda Uncle Tom I am. I say let's attack the north building-it's fulla honkeys!"

Cries of "Right on, brother," filled the air as the crowd completely shifted its direction and then broke in a dead run for the north building.

Once they were across the grounds, there were too many of them to get through the front entrance. So while dozens of them flooded the mezzanine, others gained entry by breaking windows in the bottom-floor apartments and climbing into people's bedrooms.

Whoops and hollers from the blood-thirsty crowd filled the air, mixed with the anguished screams of people whose apartments were also being ransacked-.

I was in an artery of the crowd that was pushing itself towards the mezzanine, trying to cram itself into the main entrance like a fat lady into a tight pair of pants. I tried to break away. But you couldn't move on your own in a churning mass like this. What I succeeded in doing was to shift currents so that I became part of a smaller breakaway group that was surging towards a series of broken-open windows in the bedrooms of some apartments.

When we reached the edge of the building, I started to hesitate, unsure about what I wanted to do. But I wasn't still a second before a young black guy grabbed me by the arm, saying, "Move, they'll trample you if you don't," and started pulling me with him.

I was dragged to an open window with curtains flapping out through the glassless frame. The guy let go of me and climbed through the window, disappearing from view. Then he reappeared at the window and held his arm out. In the midst of the turmoil, I couldn't resist what seemed to be his kindness. I took ahold of his hand, and, gripping myself with it, hoisted myself up the side of the building and through the window. Once inside, I saw that we were in the standard projects bedroom.

Suddenly my attention was grabbed by a ruckus, coming from somewhere outside the apartment in the hall, but still so noisy it shook the walls. I shifted my gaze to my benefactor, pleading for him to intercede for me again.

"C'mon, let's get outta here," he said. "I think they'll be in here in a minute to wreck the place. When they see you, they'll think you live here and-"

"Why me?" I interrupted.

"You looked in the mirror lately? You white."

I actually blushed I was so embarrassed, but he didn't have time to reflect on my coyness. He grabbed my arm and I lurched after him as we left the apartment.

We started down the hallway, looking for a way out. But when we got to the edge, of the mezzanine, the fury and confusion was boiling, bodies roiling and crashing into each other and things.

Suddenly the din from the crowd in the mezzanine was punctuated by a whining chatter apparently coming from the outside. When the added noise became obvious, the crowd abruptly seemed to freeze.

"Quick, in here," the guy said, directing me towards an open apartment down the hall a few feet.

After he pushed us inside and closed the door behind us, I ran back into the bedroom and pulled the curtain aside to see, the chattering noise still pounding in my ears. What I saw nearly floored me.

Helicopters! The cops were actually landing helicopters in front of the building. They'd flown over the top of the projects, the dirty bastards.

Each helicopter was full of cops, about ten of them I guessed from the looks of one I saw landing and opening its doors for a flood of blue to pour from the plane into the building, each cop waving a billy club or a can of Mace.

I screamed in horror, and turned to my rescuer.

"Let's split," he said grimly.

I nodded my head in agreement and started following him as he headed out of the apartment.

In the hall we immediately found ourselves trapped between the crunching mob in the mezzanine, now being beaten to a pulp by the police, and the looters coming from the other end of the corridor.

"Here," the guy said as he sprinted for a door marked "Stairs".

We got up four flights of them, not bothering to stop and see what was going on on any of the floors we passed before we stopped to catch our breath.

Suddenly we realized how hot the air was. When we opened the door to the hallway and looked in, we saw streams of smoke. Someone had set fire to the building!

"How bad is it?" I asked.

"Not too bad now, but by the time anybody does anything about it, it'll fill the sky. You can kiss this building good-bye."

"Where can we go?"

"Downstairs," .he said like he knew what he was talking about. "The fire won't go down there. Fire goes up, not down, so down below we safe."

The idea of being sandwiched between a riot and a fire terrified me, but I knew this plan was the only alternative available. We descended the stairs a flight and tried the third floor.

"Looks okay," he said as we stole down the hall. "If they been up here, they musta passed this one by for some reason."

But then the quiet was shattered by a scuffle from the far end of the hall on my right. In a panic we dashed down the hallway in the opposite direction. We didn't stop until we were at the door of the last apartment down the whole length of the hall from the men we had seen.

"In here."

"But what if somebody's home?" I said.

"Chance well have to take. This ain't no time to be worryin' 'bout our manners."

He tried the door and the knob gave. He opened it slowly and poked his head inside.

"Don't seem like nobody here. C'mon."

I followed him inside, saying, "Let's go into the bedroom and see if we can find out what's going on outside."

He nodded his head and we walked across the living room to the bedroom.

"The door's closed," I said.

"So what?"

"You going to open it?"

"Why not?" he said as he twisted the knob and pushed it open.

Nothing that had happened so far had prepared me for what I saw in the bedroom. It wasn't that what I saw was so unusual in itself, but that it had been about the furthest thing from my mind, the last thing I had expected.

On a bed a man and woman were fucking.

He was black and she was white. It didn't seem like a rape because she was obviously enjoying it.

It was easy to see why. Her legs were thrown up around his shoulders so that there was a clear view of his shiny black cock sliding in and out of her glistening, juicy cunt. It was obvious her pussy fit his prick like a glove.

"Sheeeit, lookit that nigger go," the guy with me said. "Ain't that somethin'."

How could I help but look at him go? He had a beautiful long, black prick, and hard balls that were even blacker than his cock. The way his ebony tool reamed out her pink, slobbering pussy was hypnotic, as were the noises-the squishes and squeals and moans of fucking.

Sex had been the last thing on my mind when I had dashed into this apartment. But now that I was here, it abruptly blanketed the things which had seemed so urgent to me only moments before. Everything seemed to pale into insignificance at the sight of his black, probing cock in union with her grasping white pussy, sloppy with cunt juice.

The man fucking the woman finally noticed us, and, not missing a stroke as he sawed away at the woman's thrusting cunt, snarled, "Can't you see I'm busy?"

"Fuck you, man," the guy with me replied in a high-pitched whine. "I stay if I want to."

"Oh, yeah?" the man said, still fucking in and out like his cock was a piston. "Then argue with this."

He reached into a pile on the far corner of the bed that had been hidden by their bodies and grabbed something.

"Watch out," the guy said, ducking for the door. "I think he's got a gun."

The light flashed off of whatever it was he had in his hand. But it was no gun.

"It's a badge ... a badge!" I cried.

"Jesus Christ, this dude's a cop. A nigger cop," the guy with me gasped. "While the other pigs was downstairs beatin' up niggers, he sneaked up here and found some white pussy to fuck. Boy, I guess that proves that niggers are smarter than white people."

"You better believe it, boy," the cop growled. "Now, you and your honkey cunt you got there go find someplace o' your own to fuck and leave us be."

"Yeah, sure ... sure," the guy said, turning to me and saying: "Let's split."

I followed him out of the bedroom, and, as we closed the door, could hear the cop whispering huskily to the woman, "C'mon, baby, lemme stick it up your ass. You'll love it."

"Come on," the guy with me said, "we can do better than this."

"No," I blurted, apparently not in control of my own responses.

"Why?" he demanded to know.

"Because...." I said, and then couldn't articulate because why.

"Because why?" he said, echoing my own uncertainty about the strangely stubborn stand I had unexpectedly taken.

"Because ... because I want to watch them," the words spilled heedlessly from my mouth. "I want to watch them fuck."

He looked at me like I was crazy; but then a smile slowly split his young, black face, and I noticed for the first time how cute he was-just a boy of eighteen or nineteen. "Far-out," he said. "Far-out. Outta sight. The rest of the world be fightin' and go in' up in flames, and we be in here snug as a bug watchin' the floor show."

He pushed the door just a little bit open with his foot. I got down on my knees and put my eye to the crack, while he stood over me, watching, too.

My first glimpse through the door revealed that the couple in the bedroom were still going at it. God, that big, black dude could fuck. If he was an example, then it was true-his race was abnormally well-hung and they did have a natural rhythm. His crowbar of a dick slid in and out of her pussy in perfect time, the slap of their flesh coming together reverberating like a bass fiddle. Her cunt-lips pulsed throbbingly, exaggerated and swollen because she kept lifting her legs higher and higher so she could feel his prick rammed into her cunt to the maximum.

Then, suddenly, on an outward stroke, he withdrew his cock completely, letting it stand outside the sloppy gates of her pussy. That was the first time I'd seen the whole thing. His prick was even longer and thicker than I had estimated from seeing it engulfed by a cunt, and with a gloriously brutal-looking jet-black knob at the end, pulsing like a serpent's head.

Why did he have it out? Was he going to come? No, no, that couldn't be right-he had his hand around the shaft, getting ready to guide it into some juicy, clutching hole. But not her cunt. Instead of reinserting his cock into her cunt, he aimed just below her snatch and plunged the head of his prick between the bottom part of the cheeks of her ass, ramming for her asshole.

"Oh, God, you're killing me! Oh, God, it hurts!" she screamed after he had worked the first part of his cock up her ass and was now working on shoving in the rest of the battering tool.

He smiled as though her wail of anguish was an invitation to continue, thrusting his loins at her gaping crotch and pushing his insistent prick a bit farther up the tight canal of her ass.

"Oh, God, it hurts...." she started in groaning again, but then added, " ... so goooood! Oh, God, it hurts so good! Jesus, fuck me in the ass, stick it all the way up me till it comes out my mouth!"

When she said that, I instantly had a mental image of his powerful black prick being shoved in so far that its dark torpedo of a head bulged from her mouth, his black knob in bold relief against her red lips. What a way to suck a cock that would be, I thought lewdly, feeling the obscene thoughts in my head accompanied by a bonfire growing between my thighs, the flames of passion searing my cunt and bringing my sexual juices to a raging boil.

As I continued to watch the couple fucking through the slightly open door, I automatically dropped my hand and moved it easily up my skirt between my parted legs, seizing upon my sopping pussy and rubbing it hard through the drenched cloth of my saturated panties.

He had his dick up her ass all the way to his rock-like balls. Then he started working it out, grimacing in exquisite torture as the taut muscles of her asshole pulled his foreskin agonizingly over his meat.

He surprised me again. He kept pulling his dick from her ass until he had it completely out, the veins visibly throbbing on his ebony column. He used his hand to guide it again, but now returned it to her cunt, thrusting through her expanded, parted pussy-lips and burying his cock in the hairy crevice to the hilt, grinding away like he was trying to bury her.

When he had pulled his cock out of her cunt once more and had crammed it for the second time up her ass, it was obvious that he was alternately cunt-fucking and ass-fucking her, bringing the pleasures seated in both orifices to the surface for an ultimate double explosion of nerve-seared sensuality. And it was just as obvious that I wasn't going to be able to let things go at just watching when every fiber in my being was cheering me on like an entire squad of pom-pom girls to participate.

One of my hands was already massaging my cunt, a finger now inside the elastic of my panties and directly manipulating the creamy folds of my pussy and my turgid, erect clit. I raised my other hand to just above my head, where I estimated the crotch of the guy with me would be. At first I thought I had miscalculated and was pressing the hard muscles of his thigh. And when I gave what I had ahold of a squeeze, I instantly realized that I had latched onto nothing else but his rock-hard, stiff cock, straining against his pants like he had a gun in his pocket.

From the feel of the bulge in his pants it was obvious that he was just as turned on as I was, unless he was deformed. I quickly zipped him down and, receiving no resistance, thrust my hand inside his pants and re-emerged clutching onto a long, black shaft of twitching meat, a pearly drop of semen oozing from the vertical smile at the end of his prick telling the world it was ready to fuck and come.

With my finger I wiped the blob of anxious juice off the head of his dick and brought it to my lips, flicking it away with my eager tongue and savoring it as I rolled it around in my mouth.

I didn't want to give up watching what was going on in the next room, so I lifted myself just enough so my head would be level with the cock jutting out over me that begged to be sucked. When I was in the right position, I wrapped my lips around the burning shaft, and then turned my face enough so I could still see what was happening in the bedroom out of the corner of my eye while I manipulated the fleshy head of his prick with my tongue, lips, and teeth, pushing his pants down around his legs.

In the bedroom the cop was into her ass again, blistering her butt with powerful, ramming thrusts that took so much effort on his part that he grunted after each one, while she squealed in delicious pain. Above the union of his cock and her ass I could easily distinguish the lips of her pussy, their fleshy, pink folds distended by the alien intruder down below, pulsing and sucking almost as though they were breathing, sticky strands of syrupy secretion criss-crossing her gash like a spider's web.

As I watched the bedroom action, I sucked furiously on the cock of my own, its earthy, rich taste filling my mouth and making my nostrils flare while I fucked my mouth with it. I sent the rock-hard head all the way to my tonsils, filling my mouth and throat completely with hot cock, wondering why anyone would choose to swallow something as harmless as swords when they could swallow hot, throbbing two-edged pricks.

In the bedroom the man and the woman suddenly went rigid, and I realized that they were both on the verge of coming. His prick pulled itself from her asshole with a wet pop and hovered like a twitching cobra over her pussy-juice-matted bush and glistening belly. He reached for his cock to guide it towards the final, creaming thrust, but from nowhere her hand appeared and slapped his hand away from his prick. Seizing his hard cock, she jacked it once or twice, her fingers unable to completely encircle it and digging into the hard, black flesh.

A natural coming reflex overtook him and he began bucking wildly, almost like a dog around a bitch in heat. His cock slid around in her hands like a slippery eel, but she maintained her grip, tugging the foreskin over the blood-engorged head as he writhed in her grasp.

And then, like a Fourth of July rocket, a dazzling stream of sparkling sperm spurted into the air, striking her belly and pooling in her navel before it shot upward and struck at her tits, her face, even her hair. With an agonizing groan she threw herself about until she could fasten her starved, salivating mouth around his endlessly spouting prick, gripping her red lips around it like a vise. He moaned and groaned as the cum from his black prick entered her mouth, the gulping sound of her voracious swallowing filling the room as she worked her mouth on his cock as though it were a second cunt, lacking only the fringe of curly blonde hair around its pulsating lips.

The man renewed the thrusting of his hips, exploding his cock into her mouth, and from the tightening of his balls obviously still coming. Her response was to suck harder than ever, as he continued to moan and groan as his only means of expression.

Finally, the tension stiffening his large dark body seemed to snap, and it was apparent that he had at last finished coming in her mouth. But she still wasn't satisfied as she kept on manipulating his prick in her mouth in the apparent hope that it would start going off again.

A frown creased his black face and suddenly he yelled, "Enough! Enough, you bitch. You crazy white bitches never know when to quit when you've got a black cock to play with."

When she didn't stop, he lashed out with an open hand, slapping her across the cheek. His cock flew out from the impact. Along with it, a huge glob of sperm she hadn't been able to swallow spread itself out viscously in the air as it gushed from her gaping mouth, falling like molasses onto her tits and belly.

As his steaming jizz drenched her, I knew that I had to have some cum for myself right now. I accelerated my efforts on the cock in my mouth, increasing the suction of my sucking lips and massaging the ridge of his flange with my raspy tongue, forgetting all about the couple in the bedroom as I poured all of my concentration into causing an ejaculation in my mouth. He accommodated me by grabbing my head from behind am working it even tighter into his crotch so that the only things I was aware of were the stabbing length of his prick in my mouth, his rough, wiry pubic hair, and the sweaty black skin of his pulsing groin, as his balls squished against my chin.

I could feel the head of his dick swelling into an even bulkier knot, obviously getting ready to gag me with the onslaught of sticky jizz which I craved, when suddenly the bedroom door flew completely open and I abruptly became aware again of the people in the bedroom.

With the cock still in my mouth to the hilt, I looked out of the corner of my eye and saw the black cop looming in the doorway, still naked.

"What's goin' on here?" he growled. "I thought I told you to leave."

I could feel my guy's cock start to shrivel in my mouth as he hemmed and hawed above me, apparently at a loss for words under the unusual circumstances.

Or maybe he thought the cop was going to hit him or something. He wouldn't have thought that, though, if he had had my view of the situation. He was cut off from a view of the bottom half of the cop because of the obstruction of my head at his cock. But I had a clear picture of everything from the cop's waist down, and, when I saw that his long black dick was as incredibly as stiff as when I had first seen it, I knew that the only thing the cop wanted was more.

They were still fussing at each other over my head, so I decided to be a peacemaker. The dusky battering-ram poking at me from the bedroom doorway told me what my only course was as I grabbed for it, feeling its strength vibrate under my touch. I brought it towards my face as I twisted my mouth just enough to still accommodate three inches of the cock I was already blowing and gave enough room to introduce at least the head f the cop's prick between my lips. I My tongue slid over the heads of their cocks as they pressed together in my mouth, twin warheads of black dynamite. The differences between the two were quickly forgotten as they began undulating their dark crotches in my face, burying me up to the eyes in a forest of crinkly, black pubic hair that was like barbed wire.

The two men moaned gutturally while I sucked them off, their bodies gyrating above me as though they were modern dancers in black tights. Then, suddenly, from between the legs of the cop, I saw the bare legs of another person. But these legs were white and shapely.

"Hey, what's going on here?" the lady's voice said from behind her black lover, the top part of her body obscured by his bulk.

"You all want some?" he drawled to her.

"You bet your black ass I do," she said emphatically.

"Well, us niggers is busy, as you can plainly see," he said, laughing.

"Who cares about you?" she snapped. "I've already had all of your prick that I want. It's her I want."

My heart jumped when she said that, the thrill of being singled out by another woman to fulfill her desire when she had two enormous cocks to choose from turning me on like a string of Christmas-tree lights.

"I didn't know you was a pussy-eater," the man said to her.

"You better believe it, Sambo," she said. "A cock's a cock, but a cunt is a coconut cream pie."

I felt my pussy lather spontaneously at her description, the suggestion of her remark causing the interior of my cunt to foam in a choking mass of bubbly cream.

"Don't bother to move, Rastus," she said to the man in the door, "I can handle myself."

I saw her crouch down, providing a perfect view of her open, oozing cunt, a slobbering gash fringed by matted blonde pussy hair, before her head suddenly came into view, squeezing between his legs as she worked her way towards me.

She seemed to be about thirty, with long blonde hair that was obviously natural from the thatch between her thighs, high cheekbones, blue eyes with long fluttering lashes, and glistening, ruby-red lips that looked as though they were ripe fruit. Her crimson tongue flicked out at me with a slurping motion as she whispered while she worked her way towards me, "Just sit tight, you're going to love my tongue. You'll forget all about those guys' cocks once I'm eating you."

Now she had popped through the dark columns of his legs and grasped my body, running her hands up under my sweater and massaging my heaving tits as she thrust a knee between my parted thighs and crushed it against the damp folds of my cunt.

Her busy fingers ran like snakes over my tits, her fingers gouging into the soft flesh as she dug into my bra, searching for my marble-hard nipples. Her caresses drove me wild, and, as her knee crammed even tighter against my throbbing pussy, I gasped in sheer ecstasy. But, of course, the gasp brought not further air but an increased descent down my throat of the two cocks I was orally fucking.

Our faces were pressing together now, her cheek against mine as I continued to suck the pricks lodged in my mouth while she whispered in my ear with her hot, sensuous breath.

"Feel my cunt," she whispered. "Put your hands on it and rub your fingers through the juice. I'll get down and make it easy for you."

She reclined to the floor, lying back and spreading her legs for a full view of the parted lips of the hairy, sopping gash of her pussy. I plunged my hand into the gooey morass and felt the bullet of her clit shoot out against my fingers, begging to be rubbed, as she writhed under my touch. Up above I redoubled my sucking efforts, somehow manipulating the excess load of cock I was taking on without any precious cargo being spilled from my mouth.

The only thing wrong was that my own cunt was now going without any direct stimulation; and my tits were lying free, as I busily serviced everyone else. Suddenly I felt they were using me and treating me unfairly. That's what Eddie always did (although not as deliriously as this, by a long shot): made me give, give, give. Well, if I was going to let myself go, I was going to have things my way, damn it.

With a massive coughing effort I abruptly spit the twin cocks from my mouth and bolted upright, feeling my hand drip from the saturated cunt with which I had been playing. The three of them looked at me with astonishment, the two men standing by the doorway with their enormous black pricks standing straight out like flagpoles, and the woman, lying in the classic position of sex on the floor with her legs spread as far apart as they could go.

"Well, what kin we all do for you, little lady?" the cop asked sarcastically.

"Are we too much for you?" the woman cracked from somewhere behind the rising mound and gaping furry hole of her pussy that was the focal point of her body in her lascivious position.

The guy with whom I'd come to the apartment just looked at me and shrugged.

"Strip me," I demanded. "Strip me."

"Right on!" the guy I'd come with exclaimed.

"Yeah," added the cop in a rumble.

"And what else can we do for you, missy?" the woman trilled from behind her slobbering box.

"Do something to my cunt like you promised!" I shouted. "Anything. But just get down there and get to work. I want to feel it between my legs."

The two men began advancing eagerly towards me, their dicks twitching like angry reptiles, their mouths watering. The woman jumped up off the floor, and, licking her lips, joined the wave of naked flesh that was about to descend on me, burying me in a sweaty six-armed embrace.

I don't know who took off what, but they probably all did it at once. They ripped every shred of clothing from my body in a mere instant, leaving me quivering and naked on the floor as they pressed as one against me. It was incredible. I felt I was being ravaged by some super sex-monster, a black and white creature with three heads, six arms, as many legs, a complete set of female sex organs, and, as a terrible, avenging bonus, two enormous, destruction-bent cocks.

If they weren't a three-headed monster, then at least they were a team. They acted as though they had been rehearsing orgies for years as each of them assumed an assigned portion of my hungry, trembling body, all of them designed to equal in total an unprecedented assault on my senses.

The guy I came with rolled crossways across my face, crunching the steel wool of his pubic hair into my eyes, and, most importantly, ramming his turgid dick into my waiting mouth, his hard balls bruising my lips. No sooner had he assumed his place, straddling across me and undulating his prick in my appreciative mouth, than the cop dropped himself between my legs and began poking his gigantic cock at my crotch. I held my breath as I tried to guess which hole he would enter. I closed my eyes just at the instant of penetration and realized from the searing tear that sent shivers up my spine that he had inserted the head of his cock up my ass, and was in the process of quickly ramming it in all the way to his balls.

That left my pussy and the woman unaccounted for, and, as it quickly turned out, they were an unbeatable combination. She lay on her side facing in the opposite direction. Her head was at my waist as she leaned over and lowered her head between my widely parted thighs, open like a gate because of the ramrodding cock that was distending my asshole, threatening to rip me in two. Slowly, her tongue began to slide over my cunt-lips, driving me crazy with the titillating slowness of her wet strokes. As she tasted my creamy froth and pulsating flesh, her licking started to accelerate, until the maddening slowness had now given way to furious lapping, a lather of pussy juice and spit forming in a thick mixture between my thighs.

The remaining act to complete the lustful arrangement in which we were entwined was up to me. I eagerly accepted my responsibility, thrusting my hand onto her pussy and feeling its electric warmth as I pressed its throbbing flesh through a slimy coat of sticky fluid of male and female origin.

The men's hips bucked and undulated wildly as they fucked my mouth and ass, while I responded by sucking harder with every thrust to my face, and squeezing my ass muscles with every plunge below. All the while, the woman worked her face deeper and deeper into the marsh of my pussy, burying her tongue and lips between the parted folds and reaching at least three inches into the squashing interior of my cunt.

The cock in my mouth provided the first clue that we were soon all going to erupt in an explosion of shuddering release. It stiffened even harder, sending its stony knob even farther down my throat, as it trembled on the verge of ejaculation. My only alternative was to increase the suction I was providing for the engorged tool, moving my mouth in an exaggerated imitation of a cunt as I labored to help him get his rocks off.

The hot, sticky sperm crashed like an outpouring of molten lava as the volcano of his cock erupted in my mouth. The pressure of his cum flooding into my mouth choked me with its intensity and quantity. Some of it slid deliciously down my throat, coating the inside of my stomach like rich, thick cream; but the excess strained at my cheeks, some of it dribbling down from the corners of my mouth as his prick continued to fuck in and out, while another syrupy stream invaded my nasal passages and flowed from my nose like snot in two thick globs.

One down and three to go, I thought, as I felt the prick in my ass spring even farther into my intestines, its huge head squishing around in the soft, warm shit in my gut. I could feel the balls pressed against the cheeks of my ass harden like rocks and I knew they were preparing to launch a jet-blast of high-test sperm. I shoved my body towards him as much as I could, trying to jam his rampaging cock in even farther, envisioning once again the image of a prick so far in that it came bulging out of the mouth of the person being ass-fucked-except that this time it was my mouth I saw with the ominous, dark, spitting cock-head emerging like a prehistoric monster from it.

My fantasy was abruptly interrupted by the reality of a barrage of the hottest jism I'd ever felt in my life searing the walls of my gut. He spurted again and again, the tight muscles of my ass squeezing his dick at maximum intensity to wring every last drop of sperm from him. Finally, with one last cascade of boiling cream, he was finished, and dropped like a rag between my legs, as exhausted as the other one, whose prick, spent in my mouth, was gradually growing soft between my still nibbling lips.

The pussy in my hand foamed like a high-suds detergent as my fingers gnawed at both the inside and the outside, pulling and tugging, rubbing and pressing, until the pulpy slit drained a thick yellow fluid like the festering wound it resembled. I knew that one more flick of her clit would do it, so I found the engorged knob of flesh and placed it between my thumb and forefinger, striking them against each other like I was snapping my fingers, their force colliding against each other and pressing the marble of nerves in a maddening crunch. She shrieked with delight as she started to come, her moans reverberating up into the cavity of my cunt as her mouth pressed against my pussy-lips while her orgasm mounted.

And now for the last and the best, I thought. Her screams into my cunt flipped the final switch and I felt all the lights going on for me, the buzzers buzzing, the cannons bursting, and the rockets flaring. My nipples seemed to shoot out from my tits and explode like firecrackers. I felt like there was-a barracuda swimming around in my stomach, and then he had torn through the flesh of my lower abdomen and was devouring all the meat between my legs. Spasms of excruciating delight started at my navel and spread concentrically through my body like a radio signal as the electrical impulses of orgasm charred every nerve in my body.

My coming was like a series of waves, each of them a huge breaker, pounding over the foamy crest of the preceding one, until I was caught in an orgasmic tidal wave, my senses completely washed away by the unchecked turbulence of a climactic sexual sea. As I writhed in sweet pain, I could feel the load of cum that sloshed inside of me, and feel rivulets for the sticky fluid dripping down my chin. My hand clutched the sloppy hamburger of the cunt at my side and I held on for dear life as I closed my thighs on the woman's slobbering face and felt her mouth press against the panting lips of my pussy, while my ass tugged at the dick inside of it. In a swooping ascent, I reached the peak of the mountain, and then began sliding down the other side, plunging to dizzying depths as the tail of my orgasm plunged downward like a blazing meteor that finally crashed, leaving me a gasping, panting, gelatinous wreck.

When it was finally over, the four of us lay on the floor in glistening heaps of flesh, our breathing gradually returning to normal. The cocks in me grew smaller, their metallic expanse giving way to spongy softness. The cunt in my hand slowly closed, retrenching back to its sealed state from being an open, grasping pit.

Everything else in the world seemed a million miles away. The projects, the Housing Authority, the demonstration, the cops-all of it might as well have been on another planet as we collapsed in a mellow, post orgasmic mound of black and white flesh.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Out of nowhere, the noise overwhelmed us. One moment, our post-fucking reverie was totally silent, as though we were encapsulated in a vacuum of bliss. The next moment, ear-shattering yells and crashes, the stormy thunder of a mob gone mad, shook the walls.

The cop acted first, I guess because responding to things like that were his business. When the noise suddenly inundated us in its resonant fury, he leaped to his feet, his long, black dick, now soft but still huge, flapping like a tongue between his legs. He cocked an ear in the direction of the hallway, the changing lines in his face indicating that he detected something informative about the composition of the din outside.

"Well, what is it?" I asked, sitting up and brushing some congealed sperm from the side of my face.

"The demonstrators?" my rescuer asked. "The police?" I asked.

The cop looked at us for a moment before he said without emotion, "Both." And then a smile split across his broad dark face as he added, "And the protesters ain't winnin'. Sound like the demonstrators is gettin' conked good."

"Then we've got to get out of here before they find us!" I cried.

There was a long pause before the cop's smile disappeared and he said with a gravely straight face, "What you mean, we?"

"You mean-" the other guy started to say.

"That's right," the cop replied, anticipating the completion of the sentence.

"But you a nigger, your skin's black," the guy implored, as I tried to figure out what they were talking about.

"True ... true ... But I'm a pig first."

I looked at the cop, trying to figure out what he intended to do. Suddenly it dawned on me, and I gasped, "You wouldn't?"

"The hell I wouldn't," the cop laughed meanly.

"What're you three talking about?" the woman wanted to know, sitting up, totally puzzled.

"They under arrest, that's what," the cop said commandingly as he turned to us. "Now don't give me no trash and I'll see you both get off with suspended sentences and light fines."

"Now wait a minute," the white woman said, getting to her feet. "This is my apartment'. I have to have a complaint against them for you to do that. And I'm not about to-"

Without warning, he lashed out with his ham-hand and smacked her across the face, a red, five-fingered welt immediately rising along her jawbone and cheek as she toppled backward, landing in a naked heap.

"You'll make it," he said ominously.

I convinced myself immediately that I wasn't going to wait around for him to make good his threat. If I tried to escape, he probably wouldn't be willing to chase me without any of his clothes on. He needed his uniform on to make his explanation plausible. The main drawback to my plan was that I couldn't afford to be as modest and careful as he-I had to run in the nude to get away. But it was a risk I was willing to take.

He was still glaring at the woman whom he had just reduced to a piteous sobbing wreck when I made my move, springing to my feet and dashing for the door before anybody knew what was happening.

"Come back here, you honkey bitch!" he bellowed at me when he saw what I Was up to. But I already had the door open and was out in the hall before he moved, the last glimpse I saw of his body a study of ambivalence about whether to chase me or stay there and cover himself in more ways than one.

As I left the threatening atmosphere inside the apartment, I plunged directly into the boiling chaos in the hallway.

The cops, apparently tired of knocking heads down below, had worked their way all the way up to the third floor and were blustering down the corridors, beating up demonstrators they'd found somewhere and hauling people out of apartments and beating them up, even though a lot of them looked like they actually lived there.

The anarchy was enveloped by an oppressive heat from the growing fire on the next floor. My naked body was immediately bathed in a clammy sheet of perspiration, as I searched for a way out before somebody noticed me and did God knows what to me.

My mind seemed to leap from one tactic to another without any prodding. I dashed into an apartment. I didn't bother to check if it was vacant or not as I raced into the bedroom and began tying the bedclothes on the bed together. When it didn't seem long enough for what I had in mind, I rummaged through the dresser drawers, and then the dirty clothes hamper, until I came up with enough shirts, pillow cases, and pajamas to knot together for an escape rope out the window.

I had no hesitation about hurling an ashtray through the window and reaming all the shards of glass out with a chair leg before I tied my rope to the bed and threw it out the window. Fear was nowhere in my consciousness as I lifted myself over the window sill and began lowering myself down, winding my legs around the knotted sheets and clothing and feeling them rub against my cunt as I half lowered myself and half slid downward.

When I reached the ground, I noticed for the first time that the area was Uttered with debris and fallen protesters, a low cloud of noxious smoke hanging over everything. I looked around and saw that the whole thing was being filmed by a television crew as I heard a man yelling, "Look at her!" and noticed that a camera lens was being trained on me.

For the first time since my escape, I was aware that I was naked. I looked at my hurriedly constructed rope of descent, and saw that the third thing from the bottom was a man's pajama top. I undid the knots frantically, pulling them apart with my teeth when the strength of my fingers proved insufficient for the task, and finally got the garment loose and on me. Looking down and seeing that it went to the top of my thighs, just covering my pussy, I tugged down on it, and then fled, hurrying through the mist of the smoke, trusting my instinct to find a route to safety.

After running until I was gasping for breath, my lungs seared by the smoke and tear gas, I reached an area where the haze was thinner. Focusing my eyes, I recognized the pavement I was on, and realized that I was standing on one of the streets leading out of the projects. I mentally flipped a coin between my right and my left, and chose the latter, fleeing to what I hoped was a way out.

My running took me past the sides of the grimy brick buildings that formed the corridor to the outside world, and, suddenly, miraculously, I looked around and saw that the projects were all in back of me and I was out.

But now what was I supposed to do? I wasn't home free yet. I still had to act on my instinct for survival.

I looked around, and, when I saw the telephone booth just outside the entrance to the projects, the next course of action occurred to me.

"Eddie!" I blurted. "Maybe hell help me. He's got to help me. He's got to come get me."

I dashed towards the phone booth. My problem about where to get any change to phone was solved immediately due to the misfortune of what seemed to be one of my fellow tenants. Apparently he had been trying to call someone on the outside when the police had seen him, and, noticing that the color of his skin was black, bashed him across the head, leveling him into a crumpled heap half-in and half-out of the phone booth.

I rummaged through his pockets and came up with the necessary two dimes. Then I stepped gingerly around his unconscious body so I wouldn't hurt him while I dialed Eddie's job, hoping he'd be back from his garbage route by now.

When I finally got him on the line, reality quickly returned. I realized how absurd it was to depend on him when I heard his surly, uncaring voice.

I started to tell him of my dilemma, but before I got three words out, he snarled, "So you got my note, huh, and finally decided to get around to calling?"

A note? That's right, he'd left a note for me by the door telling me to call. That's why he thought I'd called.

"Those kids of yours," he said, as though I had created them on my own as a trick against him. "What about them?"

"They're gone. I caught 'em last night after you left, and they ran off."

"What? Caught them doing what?" I asked frantically.

"Fucking. They were fucking."

"Are you sure?" I gasped, realizing that my suspicions of this morning had been correct.

"When I pulled the covers off, I saw his little cock all the way up to his balls in her pussy. It ain't big, but the little fucker knows what to do with it."

"What'd you do?" I asked, as chills coursed up and down my spine.

"Tried to beat the shit out of them, of course," he said gruffly. "But the little bastards got away. Good riddance, I'd say, but I thought maybe you'd like to know the result of you being such a stinking mother."

I was silent for a moment, and then snapped, "Good-bye," and smashed the phone down in the cradle, realizing that I meant good-bye for forever. I didn't know what I was going to specifically do, but I knew that I wasn't going to spend another minute being brutalized by Eddie-or anybody else, whether it be physical or mental cruelty.

I stepped over the fallen man in the phone booth and took off, not caring where I was headed, just so long as it was away from the projects, and all the Eddies and Barakwas.

As I fled, I couldn't help but wonder if my children had done the same thing. Had they gotten out before they got hurt by the chaos in the projects? Were they safe? And would I ever see them again?

I didn't want to hang around and think about it. I realized now that I couldn't do anything worthwhile for my children until I got myself under control, and that wasn't going to happen until I was out of the projects and away from Eddie. So I started running again, leaving the prison-like dimensions of the projects looming in my wake.

The projects are bounded by the city dump and an eight-lane highway. If you're on foot you either have to risk your life dodging cars while cutting across the highway, or take a longer route across the city dump and wind up smelling like garbage. As I looked ahead, I saw the beginnings of the dump, the first derelict refrigerators and crumbling mattresses Uttering the ground.

In the space of a few hundred yards I was deeply into the dump. Feeling that I was far enough away from the projects to catch my breath, I slowed down to .a walk, looking around at my environment.

Mountains of trash loomed over my path as I wended my way through the foul-smelling debris. Once I jumped when I saw something move in one particularly scroungy mound of trash, expecting it to be a nest of rats, something which I can't stand. But, instead, it turned out to be a man. A grizzled, filthy man of indeterminate age dressed in greasy rags.

Rats would have scared me, but one quick look at this pitiful creature told me that he posed no threat to me. He was too weak to have done anything even if he had wanted to. He just looked at me as I went by through washed-out, empty eyes. The only way I could respond was to say to myself after I had passed him, "So there is another stop on the line after the projects," and feel sorry for him for being ground into life's filth even more than I was.

I continued my journey, alternately lingering and hurrying through the grotesque environment of ruin and decay. Then my eye caught something which caused me to stop in my tracks.

There, in the midst of chaos, was order.

Someone had scoured the mountains of trash in the dump and had come up with enough appropriate parts to construct a little house-actually, a shack-of sorts. Even here, I thought, someone was trying to live with dignity.

I approached it quietly, not wanting to disturb whoever was living there. My curiosity brought me closer and closer until, finally, I was much closer than I had intended to be, and was peering through one of the cracks in the exterior to look inside.

My heart leaped and my pulse raced to a blur when I saw what was going on inside. I would have cried in a combination of relief, astonishment, and shock, except that my breath was taken away by the totally unexpected scene that was developing before my eyes.

My kids. Johnny and Janie. They were in there. They must have run away from their father, and then, when the trouble erupted the next morning, they must have run away from the projects. And built this house. I should have known: Only children could have so much optimism in the face of so much adversity.

My relief and half of my astonishment were that I had found them so unexpectedly, and that they were safe.

The other half of my astonishment and all of my shock were from what they were doing. Through the crack in the wall I could clearly see that they were both totally nude and making love with their smooth, childish bodies.

At first it seemed incongruous and bizarre to see my ten-year-old daughter, Janie, still dappled with baby-fat, and with no breasts or hair on her pudgy little pussy, lean over and stroke her twelve-year-old brother's hairless cock that in a state of erection was perhaps four inches long. But when she abruptly took his prick into her mouth, plunging her face down so that her lips squashed against his groin, completely enveloping his cock while she stroked his pink balls, I realized that my kids were acting out of their innate sexual instincts, which, when coupled with their close bond, made them naturally seek each other as lovers, no matter what their ages or prior relationship. It wasn't incongruous and bizarre. It was beautiful.

I quickly decided that the only thing wrong with the scene I was witnessing was that I wasn't part of it. The part of me that was a mother yearned from my heart to join them, to throw my arms around them and tell them I loved them and everything was going to be all right from now on.

But the sexual part of me yearned straight from the rampant energy of my juiced-up cunt to smother them with my legs, fingers, mouth, belly, tits and pussy, feeling their hot little tongues and moist young genitals rubbing against my throbbing flesh.

As Janie accelerated her sucking of Johnny's cock and he placed his busy fingers inside her cunt, I realized that I had to either back off or come out into the open. Otherwise, I was going to knock the shack down with my excitement.

Without hesitation, I drew the pajama top over my head and threw it to the ground, my tits bobbing freely against my chest as I walked around the shack and went silently through what served as the front door.

Janie noticed me first, looking up from the juicy stem of Johnny's smooth, little prick as my shadow fell over her. At first, she seemed scared, as though she expected the police; but when she saw who it was, she slid Johnny's glistening cock out of her mouth and cried, "Mommy!"

"Mommy!" Johnny said, jumping up to greet me with his cock sticking straight out from his pink, bald loins.

They both ran to hug me, Johnny's prick jabbing at me as we embraced, revealing to me that although it was small, his cock was as hard as iron.

They were so happy to see me that they couldn't stop hugging me, and, since I felt the same way, I couldn't stop hugging back. In the awkwardness of our happiness at being reunited, the three of us fell to the floor, our naked bodies landing in an intertwined heap of flesh, Johnny's cock wrapped in the strands of my long red hair.

We all looked at each other, each sizing up the situation and each other. Finally, as Johnny and Janie looked to me for obvious guidance, I stated emphatically, "Why not?"

Janie took that as a cue, lapping at my tits, while Johnny slid down and threw himself between my legs, lapping at my cunt like an old pro as I willingly parted my trembling thighs to accommodate my son. I used a hand to feel my daughter's slick, little cunt, fingering the puckering slit and feeling the juice ooze out. With my other hand I found my son's stiff prick, eagerly wrapping my hand around it and jerking its soft skin up and down the shaft and over the knob of meat at the end.

My hand tightly encompassed his jutting tool, compressing and agitating the whole of his cock from the knotty head, down the skinny, wiry shaft, all the way to his hairless little nuts.

His mouthing of my sloppy cunt raised me to new heights of desire, and I knew that I wanted it all. I wanted his dick in my cunt, fucking me into ecstasy.

"Quick, Johnny," I implored, "get in me. Stick it in me. Fuck me!"

Suddenly he looked scared, as though he were afraid he couldn't bring it off.

"Come on," I begged, "you can do it. If you can do it for your sister, you can do it for me."

"But it's too small. My thing's too small...."

"Let me be the judge of that," I said firmly, spreading my legs to their maximum in order to give him a shot of my open, drooling, hairy pussy that he couldn't resist. I could feel my heavy cunt-lips trembling in his direction, begging him to appease their sensual demands.

His gaze shifted from my pleading face to my lewdly inviting pussy, and his doubt immediately vanished. He threw' himself onto me, his cock bumping against my hairy crotch. As his prick shot into my cunt, I closed my legs tightly around his slender frame so he couldn't squirm away. I ground my throbbing pelvis upward, trying to completely entrap the four inches of muscle and gristle emerging from between his legs in the squishing vise of my pussy.

I was astounded at how good a twelve-year-old cock felt inside of me. My pussy muscles had immediately contracted to clench around his prick, and, as he stroked up and down, my cunt was squeezed as tightly around his cock as if it had been a foot long.

"Quick, quick, put your cunt in my face! Sit on my face before I come!" I called to my daughter.

She quickly obeyed my instructions and lowered her chubby thighs over my face, sending the warm smooth slit of her pussy directly against my mouth. My tongue probed the gooey innards of her cunt, while my hands shot up and left the lumps of baby fat where her breasts would eventually be as I imagined her someday with full, rich tits and dark-red, erect nipples. And with a soft tangle of luxuriant, curly cunt hair where now there was only soft, pink skin.

Janie's cunt tasted as sweet as cream in my mouth while I sucked and probed the sopping gash. She placed her pudgy little hands behind her and fondled my heaving tits as I tongue-fucked her.

However, the real excitement was taking place down below where Johnny was throwing everything in his slender twelve-year-old body into pleasing his mother, parting the foaming lips of my pussy with his stabbing pecker. What his cock lacked in deep penetration, it made up in its maddening stabs against the sides of my cunt walls, seeming to always strike the most sensitive place in the swampy marsh of tissue and sending spasms of tingling through me.

I was so charged up to begin with that I started to come after only a couple of minutes of sucking and fucking. My insides quaked as I bucked my hips wildly, trying to swallow his prick whole. The first orgasm peaked and then eased into a slow descent. But then it was unexpectedly followed by another one even more intense. When the pattern was repeated again, I realized that as long as my son was fucking me, I might go on coming forever.

Between my orgasmic convulsions I thought, How long can this go on? Then, after enduring the shuddering ecstasy of another thundering climax, I wondered if what I had always heard was true-that these young boys could go on forever.

Something in me told me not to let go of what I had in my grasp. I kept my legs in a tight scissors-grip so Johnny couldn't work himself out, so he would have to go on fucking me until his prick finally gave out. I rammed my tongue even farther up Janie's cunt, filling my nostrils with its wholesome scent. And I dug in for sexual infinity.

As the orgasms came and came, rolling like thunder, my thinking processes were ripped apart by lightning bolts, climactic flashes searing my brain into charred ecstasy. My thoughts became hallucinations of pricks and cunts in union and of sucking mouths devouring them, which eventually gave way to a totally sensory onslaught of viscous colors and eruptions, as though I were being drowned in a kaleidoscope of miraculously colored sperm. I was babbling every erotic word I could think of to urge my partners on, forcing them to ravage my senses beyond recognition.

Maybe I wanted them to short-circuit me, to take me away from reality. I don't know. But I do remember that as my mind fragmented more and more, and my son's cock dug into my grasping pussy, and Janie's cunt sealed my sucking mouth, I felt freer and freer, as though I had somehow floated above all my troubles.

And then, suddenly, after several minutes of swimming in a thick, spermy carnival of colors, I could define things again in my mind. I could make out the stark, forbidding lines of the projects looming ominously into the sky. At first I was blanketed by cool shadows as the buildings blotted out the sun. But then I noticed that the sky kept growing, getting bluer as it seemed to reach out to me.

I was rising, that was it, being lifted by some unseen force from the jaw of the projects and being lifted from them. Now I was completely above them, seeing the tops of the buildings gradually become meaningless specks as I flew away from them.

Just before I blacked out, I squeezed the thrusting body at my cunt with the full force of my thighs, while I split the walls of the warm pussy in my face and moaned, "We're free at last."

THE END
Orgy Wife ....(95k)    by Heather Brown




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