Many major bestselling novels have been written about the corporate scene and the intricacies and intrigue of the executive suite. The Unwilling Mistress zeroes in on the world of high finance and brutally exposes the banking business with its manipulation of men and money.
Some form of banking was conducted at the ancient temples of Egypt, Babylonia, and Greece. The Bible describes the money lenders and money changers in vivid terms as they wheeled and dealed with the less fortunate citizens of those early civilizations. Through all of history this economic fountainhead has played a major role in the lives of people.
Alma Werdon's story places the powerful bank vice-president Milton King under microscopic examination as he plays puppet master and moves his subordinates about the carpeted and chromed stage of his establishment. The strings he pulls affect the lives of half a dozen people. They include two of his employees whose future careers in the banking circles depend upon his personal acceptance or rejection.
Just as cattle, oxen, and other beasts of burden were used in early times for bartering and mediums of exchange, King uses his staff members to negotiate his needs and maintain the balance of power. The clinical world of income statements and balance sheets becomes a battleground for personal profit and gain.
The pyramid concept with the beneficent banker looking down from on high and watching over the funds and futures of his depositors is blasted to pieces as this empirical figure exercises his corporate responsibilities for his own personal benefit.
Intertwined with this financial wizardry is the downfall and demise of moral values and principle among the characters who are forced to participate in the banking game. The quest for promotion and success in the business world changes Jessica's life style forever. This sphere of influence encompasses her best friend and other peripheral acquaintances.
The price for climbing the corporate ladder of success is extremely high. Each rung requires another sacrifice, but it is a ritual that is being played throughout the world today. Organizational charts are structured and restructured on this basis. Members of the boards of directors for the many companies operating around the country play musical chairs constantly.
Just as the bestseller list of 1970 carried Love Story in the fiction category, Robert Townsend's nonfiction Up the Organization was included in this impressive rating. It revealed some of the innermost secrets of the business arena.
Dansk Blue Books believes its readers will find ample food for thought in The Unwilling Mistress. Although the characters are fictitious, you may well recognize your friendly bank manager, teller, or loan officer. And if you are climbing that ladder in the quest for financial security, you may find a message of interest that will be useful for future planning in playing "one-upsmanship" in the business world.
-The Publishers
CHAPTER ONE
Jessica Irwin swooped in great circles on the frozen farm pond, her tightly laced ice-skates biting crisply into the slick surface. Her scarlet tights and brief scarlet skirt, topped off by a white stocking cap that matched her white skates, were brightened still further by an attractive Argyle sweater.
Wayne Evans stood on the bank and watched her graceful pirouettes, one skate on and the other still in his hand. "Watch out for those darker spots!" he shouted. "It could be a little thin now!" He watched intently as the scarlet-clad figure performed a figure-eight. "Watch it, Jessie!"
Jessie beckoned to him impatiently. "Come on, slowpoke!" she called. "You're wasting time!" She hadn't skated in several years, but she was delighted to find she hadn't lost the knack. The pond was a mile away from the former farm home of Wayne Evans, her fellow employee at the Centralia State Bank. Jessie cut several tight circles while Wayne put on his other skate and somewhat gingerly joined her.
"Isn't it beautiful here today?" Jessie inquired, smiling happily. Her long blonde hair had partially escaped from beneath the stocking cap and was blowing in the chill breeze. Her cheeks were red from her expenditure of effort in the near-zero temperature.
"Watch yourself," Wayne said again, slapping his mittened hands together for warmth. "There's springs under here, and some areas never freeze completely. They pipe off the excess, so there's always running water under the surface of the ice."
Jessie poked him in the ribs. "Don't be such a fuddy-duddy," she commanded. "Let's cross hands and skate together to the other end."
Her quicksilver fluidity and grace made it difficult for Wayne to keep up with her, but he did his best. His acne-scarred features were almost as scarlet in the cold wind as Jessie's tights. Jessie disengaged her hands and went into a routine that finished with her gliding backward slowly on one skate with upraised arms stretched to either side. "See how easy it is?" she demanded, although her hard breathing belied her appearance of ease. "If you'd only-"
"Watch it!" Wayne shouted apprehensively. "You're backing up into a bad-looking-" Jessie never heard the end of his sentence. Her heart leaped into her throat as the single skate on which she was balanced began to cut through the surface. She went in so smoothly she wouldn't have believed it were it not for the sudden icy embrace of the farm pond water on her ankle, calf, knee, thigh, and waist. She hit bottom then, but floundered with the upraised leg until she stood completely immersed, navel-deep. "Owoooooo!" she cried out. "It's COLLLLLLLLLLLDDDDDDD!" She put both palms on the ice and tried to boost herself out, but the edge broke under her weight. "Wayne! H-help me! I'm f-freezing!"
Wayne was already skating cautiously in her direction, trying to decide the best approach to the problem. There were no trees from which he might have broken a branch, and the farmhouse was a mile away. He circled Jessie cautiously, then windmilled his arms furiously as he felt the ice giving way beneath him. "Sonofabitch!" he gasped as the icy deluge engulfed him to the waist. He ended up in the same hole six feet away from Jessie.
Her lips were already blue, and she was still trying frantically to find a patch of ice thick enough to support her. Wayne stumbled toward her, balancing awkwardly on his skates on the mucky bottom of the pond. He moved in beside her and began breaking more ice. "We're gonna have to break it all the way to the bank unless we get l-lucky," he said through chattering teeth. "Come on. With this wind it's no joke."
He led the way, smashing ice-edges with wet-mittened hands already freezing to his wrists. His hard breathing was a chilled rasp in his throat. He found a thicker surface finally, took hold of Jessie's waist, lifted her bodily, and skidded her across a section of ice. When she stopped sliding, her skirt and tights immediately began to adhere to the icy surface. "Get to the bank!" Wayne ordered. He flung himself onto the more solid patch of ice and scrambled to his knees when it supported him. "Come on, Jessie!" he urged, bending down over her and trying to pull her upright.
"Ohhh, W-Wayne!" she half-sobbed. "Wh-what are we going to do? The car's at the f-farm-house!"
"There's a shack with a fireplace two hundred yards behind the trees," he said. "We'll have to use that, but first we've got to make the bank." He succeeded in getting Jessie partly erect, although she was bent almost double and standing in wobbly fashion on slack-ankled skates. Wayne pushed her toward the bank and finally prodded her up onto its snow-covered surface.
"Get your skates off before the laces freeze!" he encouraged Jessie.
"My c-clothes are freezing to me!" Jessie wailed. The already skin-tight scarlet tights were drawn snugly into her crotch, outlining her plump sex-bulge.
Wayne knelt and brushed the ice from her skates, unlacing them as rapidly as his fast-numbing hands permitted. He pulled her skates off and then did the same with his own. Both of them were wearing heavy wool skating socks over ordinary socks. "Run!" he said to the nearly weeping Jessie. "We've got to make the shack!"
He made her move ahead of him along the snowy bank and then through a dimly defined path between the leafless trees. The shoeless exertion of trotting through the snow taxed Jessie so that she found herself perspiring despite the bitter cold. She could feel sweat-crystals of ice forming on her forehead.
"There-it is!" Wayne panted from behind her as the trees thinned. "There's always a fire- laid in the fireplace."
Jessie raised her head to behold a ramshackle log cabin with a tiny, step-up porch. The sight revived her chilled spirit, and she struggled onward, trying to ignore her snow-and-ice-chilled feet. Wayne stepped up on the porch with a thump and opened the door. "Never locked," he said. "In case of emergency like this."
Jessie entered the single room, which felt even colder than outside. Their commingled breaths clouded the icy atmosphere. Jessie stared at a three-quarter bed to one side of the brick fireplace while Wayne hurried to a cabinet and removed a box of matches. He knelt in front of the fireplace, which was stacked with logs, kindling, and paper, and struck a match. "Get out of those wet things," he said over his shoulder.
Jessie began to undress to the sound of fire-crackling kindling, the most pleasant noise she had heard in long minutes. Capillary action had drawn the frigid pond water up into her sweater and even to her bra. Jessie quickly peeled off the sodden clothes, skinned down the tights already stiff with frozen ice, then worked down over her plump hips and thighs the clinging cold-weather wool panties she had depended upon to keep her warm.
Clad only in her socks, she stared down at her white body, blue-patched in places, and brushed hard at her pubic hair from which particles of ice descended to the rough flooring. "Boy, I never saw ice down there before!" she exclaimed.
Wayne had opened a chest from which he produced blankets he threw at the bed. "Off with the socks and into the bed!" he said quickly. He paused as he saw Jessie's shivering nudity, then looked away. "It will take half an hour for this place to warm up decently. Body heat will have to do it for us if we're not going to catch pneumonia."
Jessie pulled off the socks, glazed with ice, and approached the bed. She tested the exposed sheet with a hand, then drew it back hurriedly at the feel of its damp chill. "Wayne!" she protested. "I can't lie down there!"
"You can or you'll freeze," he predicted grimly. "I'll cover you with the blankets and be with you in a minute. Then it won't be so bad."
Jessie sat down on the sheet, then yelped as its iciness penetrated her half-numbed buttocks. She plunged full-length down into the bed without giving herself time to think, then listened to her own loud panting as she tried to force breath through her parched-feeling lungs. She had never felt so dismally, miserably, excruciatingly cold! She hugged herself with her arms and tried to blank out her mind to the acute nature of her distress.
She felt Wayne piling blankets on top of her, and in a moment she heard him slapping ice free from his own garments before he pulled them off. In seconds he came to the bed, lifted the blankets, and crawled in beside Jessie. She almost yelled at the icy feel of his nude body, but Wayne pulled her into his arms and held her tightly as their frigid flesh coalesced for the entire lengths of their bodies.
"Be better-in few minutes," Wayne said, trying to still his chattering teeth. "Body heat -greatest thing in world."
Silence fell upon the cabin except for the popping and cracking of the bark on the larger logs which had begun to burn. Jessie gradually became aware of the exact nature of her position in the bed with Wayne's arms around her and one of his hands in the small of her back. "Don't go to getting any ideas," she said, but with no real snap of bite to her tone. She had known Wayne Evans for seven years, ever since they had been first employed at the bank during a summer program when they had both still been in high school.
"You can't be so cold when you're thinking of the amenities like who's in bed with you," Wayne replied.
Jessie smiled to herself and burrowed deeper under the blankets. She still felt like a block of ice, but not with the breathtaking severity of a few moments ago. Tiny tingling prickles of feeling danced through her legs and thighs. Her original fear that she would never be warm again faded into the dim distance.
"Speaking of bed," Wayne resumed, "why aren't you making it with King at the bank?"
Jessie roused herself from a drowsy sensation that was beginning to overcome her. "Would you believe that it's because I just don't care for our executive vice president?" she answered.
"But you're bucking for the cashier's slot, and Milton King is the man who's going to make the appointment," Wayne said. "Milton King has an eye for a girl's legs, but you come to work in pants-suits. If Milton had wanted to look at trousers he'd have hired men. Your native intelligence must be in low gear, Jessie."
"If I have to screw Milt King to get the job, I don't want the job!" Jessie countered swiftly. "He's an insufferable smartass who thinks all women stretch out on their backs for him automatically."
"A good many do," Wayne said. "And you want the job, don't you?"
"I'm entitled to the job!" Jessie answered indignantly. "I have the qualifications and the seniority."
"But Milton King makes the selection," Wayne said. "And Gloria Carson has been taking weekend trips with Milton."
Jessie felt a sinking sensation. She raised herself on an elbow, then ducked under the blankets again as icy air poured in over her bare shoulders. "Wayne?" she said. "You mean Milton has already picked Gloria?"
"I'd say he's about two more weekends away from making the announcement," Wayne replied.
"But he can't! She's not qualified! She's-"
"In bed she's qualified. Smarten up, Jessie, if you really want the position."
"Certainly I want the position! I've worked for it like a dog! But-" Jessie hesitated. "Why don't I just go to Mr. Abercrombie and say that Gloria is literally screwing me out of the position that's rightfully mine?"
"Because our beloved chairman of the board no longer cares to be burdened with the details of the day-to-day bank operation, that's why," Wayne answered. "He'll brush you off with a fatherly 'He-ha, m' dear girl, no exaggerations now, no exaggerations.'" Jessie almost giggled as Wayne's voice caught almost exactly the prissy enunciation of the bank's board chairman. "What d'you think Mr. Abercrombie would say if he could see me now?" she asked her icy bedfellow.
"He'd say, 'Move over.' If he had a brain in his head, which I doubt," Wayne added. He moved the hand in the hollow of Jessie's back slightly lower.
Jessie stirred at the touch. "Hey, what's going on down there?" she inquired. She looked at Wayne's acne-scarred face on the pillow, then looked away. She liked Wayne; he was a good friend, but she had no sexual feeling for him at all. She had never thought he had any for her, but the feel of that palm- And then Wayne dropped his hand frankly upon Jessie's chilled buttock area and began to stroke her soft globes lightly. "Gorgeous!" he sighed, palpating a bouncing beauty.
"Listen!" Jessie warned, "we're supposed to get warm, but not that warm." But she made no effort to withdraw. They did need to get warm, and she felt entirely in control of the situation. Although they were almost the same age, with Jessie twenty-six to Wayne's twenty-five, she had always felt much older in knowledge of the world and had in fact assumed a protective attitude toward Wayne.
Their position in the bed had Jessie's full breasts crowded against Wayne's chest. As body heat gradually enveloped them, Jessie's nipples, pinpoints from the cold at first, gradually expanded. Wayne felt them, too. "You're a real hunk of female, Jess," he said softly. "I always wished I knew how to turn you on towards me." His palm, which had warmed a sleek haunch, moved over to its twin.
Jessie's nude belly, softly curved, drew back slightly from its contact with Wayne's harder one. "Don't get yourself worked up, Wayne," she said quietly. "We've got to get our clothes dry and get out of here and back to the farmhouse and the car. Why don't you hang our things in front of the fire?"
He sighed deeply, but after a moment inched out of the bed, wrapping his arms around himself quickly. Hurriedly he draped the sodden clothing over chairbacks in front of the fireplace, then dived hurriedly back into the warming bed. It was Jessie's turn to sigh as Wayne's hands immediately became bolder.
"Wayne," she said, but then fell silent. Wayne wasn't her brother, although her relationship with him had always been sisterly. Why should she expect him to ignore such a proffered opportunity? Wayne's right hand had dipped between her thighs and was stroking her mound, teasing the pussy-hair which had contained icicles such a short time before. Against her thigh Jessie could feel a hard bulge which lengthened and thickened.
Wayne surged halfway up over her as he changed position, and the movement brought his face directly within her purview. She stared at the hard-looking, shiny, scaly acne-scars, and looked quickly away. She didn't realize that Wayne had noticed her instinctive gesture of aversion until he slumped down beside her heavily and withdrew the questing hand.
"Wayne?" she said. "What is it, Wayne?"
"Ahhhhhh, forget it," he said miserably. "I don't want any charity from you."
"Charity?"
"That's right. Charity." He flung himself onto his back and stared up at the shaggy-barked beams. "You know you can't stand the sight of my face."
It was true, but Jessie had had no intention of hurting Wayne's feelings. And it certainly wasn't as true as the bitter tone of his accusation would indicate. She liked Wayne. He was clever, entirely presentable except for his face, and good company. Starting in the bank together almost at the same time the way they had, they made common cause against a number of stuffy behavioral codes and stuffy individuals.
But Jessie had to admit that there had never been anything of a sexual nature between them, and it had been primarily her doing. Wayne had made a couple of tentative passes early in their relationship, but Jessie had always smilingly turned them aside. She wasn't a virgin, but Wayne did nothing for her. And after a while he had stopped making passes and she enjoyed the relationship.
But now she felt guilty about it. After all, Wayne wouldn't have been human if he hadn't reacted to finding himself naked in bed with her, would he? Despite the entirely innocent background which had placed him there? She moved slightly closer to him in the bed, the sheets of which no longer felt like an icy shroud each time she changed position. Body heat and the emanation from the roaring fire had dissolved the shivering, shuddering shakes that had gripped her when she first crawled into the bed.
She placed a hand on Wayne's shoulder, but he remained unresponsive. "Don't act like a martyr, Wayne," she said softly. "You know I consider you my best male friend."
"Friend!" he responded contemptuously. "You're a beautiful girl, Jessie. Do you think I don't have any balls? Do you think I'm a eunuch?"
She slid her hand down from his shoulder to his smooth upper arm and stroked it lightly. "I don't denigrate the word 'friend' the way you do," she answered spiritedly. "If that's the way you feel about it, go ahead and fuck me, since that seems to be what's on your mind."
But he made no move. "I don't want you letting me do it," he said uncomfortably. "I want you to want it, too." For the first time since he had removed his hand from her mound, still damp from its icy soaking, he turned his head and looked at her. His deep-set eyes, almost spaniel-like in the intensity of their gaze, regarded her pleadingly. "Is it too much to ask?"
"Wayne," Jessie said seriously, "I don't know how many girls you've had, and I don't want to know, but didn't it ever occur to you that you have to make the girl want it?"
"Make her?" he said in a tone of disbelief.
Jessie sighed. "We're all Christian ladies, Wayne, which places men at a disadvantage. But some men are born knowing that we're also female animals, and those men never make the mistake of asking a girl for anything. They take it."
"You mean-rape?" Wayne's disbelief had turned to awe.
"Of course I don't mean rape," Jessie said briskly. "We like to have a say in the matter. We insist upon it, in fact. But when we say 'no' we don't always mean no. We're adhering to the female convention while expecting the men to react according to male convention."
Wayne half-turned in the bed until they were almost body-to-body again. His hand returned to her naked belly with renewed eagerness, his fingers twining themselves in the thick curls of her dark pubic hair. His middle finger separated itself from the rest and probed his bed-companion's silky sex-slit, coming to rest at the entrance to her grotto.
Jessie made herself relax while she experienced the tentative probing of the finger. Despite her moralizing little homily to Wayne, she knew she didn't really want him. What would it do to his undernourished psyche, however, if she refused him the fruit of the unexpected proximity? A man was probably entitled to expect the obvious when he found himself in bed with a bareass girl. Certainly a man thought he was entitled. If she said no to Wayne now, could she really call herself his friend?
The probing finger separated the cluster of Jessie's moist pussy-hair and nudged her vaginal orifice lightly. She widened her thighs under the blankets, and Wayne eagerly pursued his advantage. He immersed the finger to the first knuckle inside her vaginal orifice and moved it in and out. Jessie found herself holding her breath as a hot spark ignited in her sexual depths.
"You're getting wet," Wayne whispered.
"Yes," Jessie breathed acknowledgment. To herself she thought: "Don't talk! Don't talk!" But she remained silent, moving her thighs again to accommodate Wayne's wrist between them as he plunged the finger more deeply.
His frigging of her was more awkward than it was expert, but Jessie's hot spark flared to a flaming intensity. Instinctively she reached for the penis she had previously felt pressing against her thigh. She seized the erection in her palm, closing her fingers over it, and Wayne's whole body trembled at the shock of the sensation.
The ravaging finger boldly finger-fucked her sex-chute as deeply as it could reach. Jessie could hear her own audible sighs and feel her own squirming. More truly than she had intended, the female animal had suddenly taken over. A female animal with cunt in heat and a hard-gristled prick at hand. Jessie stroked with her thumb the soft, rubbery-feeling head of the prick in her hand while her fingers continued to squeeze the shaft.
Wayne lunged up in the bed suddenly and surged over her. The blankets fell away from them but Jessie hardly noticed the remaining chill in the cabin air. She wormed her hips a bit more into the bed's center as the male body lowered itself upon her. She widened her thighs, then bit her lip as she felt Wayne's prong and balls drag lightly across her gaping pussy.
Both his hands were at her trim waist as he bumped his prick-head against her mustached cloister. Jessie reached down swiftly and took the blind-questing prick in her hand again, guiding it to its goal. "Ahhhhhh!" she sighed involuntarily as she felt the initial penetration and distension. The sturdy shaft eased its way into her heated passage, and then Wayne's hips flurried and he plunged into her until he was solidly lodged. "Ahhhhhh!" Jessie exclaimed, her voice turning shrill. Her legs came up and locked over Wayne's bare back.
Wayne began to move upon her, working his shaft in and out. His movements were uncoordinated, and Jessie's sleek bottom, eager to join in the dance, had difficulty matching its own gyrations to the tempo of the stout cock lodged in Jessie's pussy-depths. Her hands instinctively clutched Wayne's shoulders, seeking to control his rhythm, but to no avail.
Wayne's knees scrabbled on the bed as he tried for more leverage in his poking of the lubricated channel whose tight clutch delighted his prick. A starburst of sensation at the tip of his penis assailed him, startling him into momentary immobility. Then he powerdived furiously upon the quiescent crypt encompassing his tingling prong as he shot load after load of sperm into Jessie's cunt.
She lay on her back as Wayne collapsed upon her. Her hands lightly patted his shoulders and back but her mind was a long way off. The hot-glowing coal in her interior had died out to be replaced by a vacantly aching sensation. She could feel the cock inside her shriveling after Wayne's climax.
He stirred upon her warmed flesh. "You didn't come," he said hoarsely. Disappointment dripped from every self-accusing syllable.
"A girl doesn't come every time," Jessie said softly.
"No, it's me," Wayne said. His voice was almost a groan. "I'm no damn good in bed. I should apologize to you."
"Stop it!" Jessie said firmly. "Don't be silly, Wayne." She made herself continue the smooth-stroking motions of her palms along his prostrate back. His shrunken penis oozed from her cunt with a soft plop, and after a moment he raised himself and dropped down beside her. His eyes refused to meet hers.
Jessie remained on her back while she felt Wayne's spend trickling from her pussy down into her bottom-crack. There was no water in the cabin, and Wayne hadn't worn a rubber. She wasn't on The Pill. Wouldn't it be ironic if in accommodating a friend she became pregnant? That would really finish off her chance of getting the cashier's appointment at the bank.
"I'm no damn good in bed," Wayne repeated into the silence in the cabin. "I always know what I want to do but I'm never able to do it. I get too excited."
Jessie almost made the mistake of saying that was because he hadn't had much experience. Instead, she reached for his hand and pressed it lightly. "Not every male-female coupling is a perfect blending," she said quietly. "And I doubt that either of us was at our best today after that tumble into the freezing pond." She sought for additional words. She didn't want to say next time it would be better, because she felt no inducement toward a next time. She felt she had done her duty, if that was the phrase for it. "I hope it was good for you, Wayne," she concluded. She knew it was lame, but it was the best she could manage.
"You know it was good!" he said fervently. His free hand sought her bare breast and fumbled with it clumsily. "You're so beautiful, Jessie and you have such a marvelous body." His eyes were devouring her hungrily again as she still remained sprawled on her back.
Jessie maneuvered her breast out of range gently. "I'm getting chilly again," she said.
Wayne took the hint and covered her reluctantly with the blankets. Then he slumped down in the bed with his hands locked behind his head while he once more stared up at the bark-beamed roof of the cabin. "I really do thank you, Jessie," he said without looking at her. "I always told myself I'd never ask you, but I couldn't help myself this afternoon."
Jessie felt even more embarrassed at his grateful appreciation than she had at initially rebuffing him. She tried to form a soothing reply, then gave it up. What was the sense in attempting to boost Wayne's ego when he had so little of it? The slight frustration-cramp in her lower belly was proof enough in this case that least said soonest mended.
Wayne spoke again after another extended silence. "You really ought to think over the situation at the bank," he said. His tone was serious. "I'd hate to see Gloria get the job just because Milton's laying her. You've got the qualifications. She hasn't."
"Didn't you hear me say if I had to fuck for the job I didn't want it?" Jessie asked.
"Why so high-and-mighty?" Wayne returned. "You can't go any higher in the bank until you've used the cashier's position as a stepping stone. And you can't wait for Gloria to die off because she's only a couple of years older than you are."
"But Milton King-"
"Oh, sure, Milton's something else with the girls," Wayne interrupted at the sound of the protest in Jessie's voice. "But we've both lived long enough to know if it wasn't him it would be someone else. That's business. Not as it's written up in the family newspaper, but that's business."
"You sound like you're ready to take down my panties for him and act as chambermaid," Jessie said resentfully. "I tell you I don't even like the man."
"What's that got to do with it?" Wayne demanded. "It would be so damn easy for you. I've seen him looking at you. Prance around in front of him for a couple days with a few buttons unfastened and you can write your own ticket. And it's no small ticket, Jessie. I'll let you in on an ill-kept secret. I'm going to get a branch managership one of these days, because I'm a man, but for a woman the only way up the ladder is a rung at a time inside the main office. And you're turning it down because you don't like Milton's arrogance."
The analysis was so acute that Jessie remained silent. There was so much truth in what Wayne said. In this day and age what mattered was a bed-session or two with Milton King! Hadn't she accommodated Wayne just now with no spark of real feeling for him except friendship?
But she almost actively disliked the bank vice-president. And the thought of coercion, even if mental, troubled her. She had always prided herself upon being a free spirit.
"Well?" Wayne said as the silence again lengthened.
She stirred uneasily under the blankets. Sometime during Wayne's unsatisfactory session with her she had lost all trace of the icily numbed feeling in her flesh she had felt when she had stumbled inside the cabin. At least she had gained that much. "You're probably right," she said at last. "Hell, I know you're right. But I don't think I can do it."
"It's your decision," Wayne sighed.
"Yes, and it's my ass, too," Jessie said impudently.
Wayne smiled, lightening the acne-dark excresences on his face. Then his expression changed. "A beautiful one," he said soberly.
"Are our clothes dry yet?" Jessie asked hastily. She was afraid he would turn himself on again via the mental image conjured up in his mind's eye.
Wayne slid from the bed, stretching luxuriantly. He padded to the fireplace and felt the clothes draped over the chair backs. "Still a little damp," he reported. "But body heat will probably dry them out after we get into them."
"Body heat probably saved us from pneumonia or something worse," Jessie said.
"I've got a better word than that to say for it," Wayne replied. He had a glint in his eye as he returned to the bed. "It made my day."
Jessie slipped out of bed on the opposite side as casually as she could manage it. "I told Irene I'd be home early," she said, walking quickly to the chairs and retrieving her long-thighed woolen panties. She inserted first one leg and then the other before wriggling them up over her plump, bell-shaped behind. "It's my turn to make dinner." Without looking at Wayne she inserted her arms through the straps of her clammy-feeling bra, encasing her large breasts as dark-blue-nippled as any Concord grape but with pink tips.
Wayne began to dress silently, lips compressed. Jessie knew he had noticed the evasion, and that his sensitive antenna had absorbed the rejection. Wayne was too sensitive for his own good, she decided.
Wayne opened the cabin door when they were ready. Jessie flinched at the blast of cold air that seemed to penetrate through her damp clothing. They had a mile to walk to the car. She took a final look around the cabin that had proved their salvation in what could have been a critical situation on such a zero day. Wayne had returned the blankets to the closet and pulled the bed away from the fireplace. Except for the embers among the nearly burned-out logs, the place looked almost as deserted as when they'd entered it.
"I'll give one of the kids a buck to load up the fireplace again," Wayne said as though reading her unspoken thought.
Jessie stepped out in her socks onto the snowy path.
They trotted to the bank of the farm pond where Wayne retrieved their skates.
They circled the pond and pulled on their shoes which were on the other side.
With no further conversation they set out for the farmhouse and the car.
CHAPTER TWO
Irene Blanchard refilled her ex-husband's glass from the martini pitcher and then returned the pitcher to the refrigerator. "Last one," she said. "Jessie will be home soon, and I've been pouring the booze into you for only one reason." Irene was a slender, thin-featured girl with a thick mop of chestnut hair she wore pageboy style.
"And what could that reason be?" Norman Blanchard inquired with heavy irony. His tall figure looked in good shape even sprawled loosely in a kitchen chair. He wore a loud-checked sport jacket and tan-colored slacks. His features were frank and open in appearance, and he had a quick smile and a breezy laugh. Only his eyes gave a hint of inner fire. He was an automobile salesman, and a good one. Irene was a registered nurse.
"The only thing you're good for," Irene informed him coolly in response to his rhetorical question. She had been married to Norman Blanchard for three years, and they had averaged two or three violently bitter arguments a day. There had been only one place where they hadn't argued.
"You should know, kid," Norman agreed. "I've plowed your furrow often enough that if you had a long, spiky hair on your back for each time you'd look like a porcupine." He downed half his drink, wondering idly why he disliked Irene so much everywhere except in bed. They had just never been able to get along. Both had quick tongues and the uninhibited practice of employing them freely.
"A little less conversation, please," Irene said. She removed her glasses and placed them on the table. The act altered her appearance so that she looked younger than her twenty-seven years. She and Jessie Irwin had shared an apartment ever since the breakup of Irene's marriage to Norman.
Irene reached both hands around to the back of her neck and first unhooked, then unzipped her dress. She peeled it off her shoulders and worked it down her body before stepping out of it. She had the dazzlingly white skin of the true redhead, and her bare shoulders glistened in the light. She removed her slip and stared impatiently at Norman moodily studying the remainder of his drink. "Come on, Norm," she said impatiently. "I told you Jessie will be home soon."
"What the hell, we could always give the kid a show," he said easily. "Brighten up her man-less life."
Irene quirked an eyebrow but said nothing. She slipped her fingers inside the elastic waistband of her little-girl-style panties and pushed them downward, half-turning as she did so in order to present her back. She posed for half a minute before lowering the panties to her ankles and kicking them aside. She knew what turned Norm Blanchard on. No one knew better.
Her ex-husband stared at his former wife's graceful buttock contours, the skin silky-smooth and the flesh slimly finespun in quantity yet delicately full. Irene had the body of an eighteen-year-old and the sexual inventiveness of a Medici princess. It was a combination to which Norm Blanchard returned again and again despite telling himself angrily that the world was full of women, so why come back to this sharp-tongued specimen who continually ripped him up verbally?
But never in bed.
No, never in bed. She knew what she had in him just as he knew what he had in her. Once, before their life together had become mutually intolerable in its everyday aspects, he had suggested in jest that if a sex exhibition were added to the next Olympic games they should enter because they were a cinch to win. Together in bed they were all-American ass.
He rose from his chair abruptly after gulping down the remainder of his martini. Swiftly he stripped off his sport jacket and toed off his loafers. He unbuckled his belt and removed his tan slacks. Irene turned slowly toward him after taking off her bra. She massaged the underside of her breasts gently with her palms where the bra cups had reddened her white flesh. Her breasts jutted firmly in a surprising plenitude considering her slim physique, the strawberry-pink nipples tightening rosebud-fashion in the sudden coolness after their freedom from confinement.
Neither of them said anything. Irene led the way into the nearer bedroom of the two-bedroom apartment. Norm followed, his gaze hungrily fixed upon the tick-tock sway of his ex-wife's bare behind. He finished undressing and sat down on the bed, and Irene knelt down in front of him between his parted thighs.
He already had a lazy erection, and Irene took it in her soft hand. The thick-stemmed prick in her grasp overflowed her clasping fingers, the blood-gorged head purplish-rampant and the blue-veined shaft turgid with sex-arousal. Irene lowered her head toward the gristly rod and licked delicately at the blunt head. A quick tremor ran through Norm Blanchard's heavy, hairy thighs.
Irene ovaled her mouth and lipped the stout prick-head inside. She worked her mouth up and down on the shaft, sucking gently while she gave an occasional quick swirl of her facile tongue along the corrugation on the underside of the meaty penis. Norm Blanchard's hands came down upon Irene's red hair as she expertly sucked him into consummate rigidity.
"That's enough!" he said suddenly, pushing her away. "Sonofabitch, you've got a mouth like a vacuum cleaner. Get your ass up in the air."
Irene rose from her knees and climbed onto the bed, rolling onto her back. As always, the feel of Norm's brawny cock in her mouth had turned her interior to jelly. In her imagination she could already feel the rigorous distention of her flowerlike pussy-lips by the stiff prick before its stalwart robustness plunged into her hot-yearning cunt. She elevated her long, slender legs and widened them as Norm knelt in front of her.
He paused, crouching, to examine the lengthy, pink-enfolded crease of her sex apparatus. With his thumbs he brushed the silky pussy-hair to either side of her pouting gash, and at his touch upon her most intimate flesh Irene's whole body thrummed like a plucked guitar string. Norm teased the fleshy crevice with a gliding fingertip, and Irene breathed deeply while her tongue rapidly circled her dry lips.
Norm straightened up and shuffled forward on his knees in between her uplifted white legs. He ran the rubbery tip of his lusty cock over his ex-wife's cunt-lips much as he had his finger a moment previously. He verified with the finger that her vaginal entrance was already liberally bedewed with the downpouring from her internal juices, then applied his prick-head firmly to the puckery slot, already turning red from Irene's sex-excitement.
Irene's lips parted and her mouth ovaled in unconscious imitation of the distention taking place below as Norm's unyielding ramrod pierced her, almost as though she once again contained the big prick in her mouth instead of in her cunt. She wriggled her hips slightly as the inflexible prong crammed her depths, joggling herself from side to side to make more room. Her eyes were closed and her breathing labored as Norm began to poke her in vigorous fashion.
"Ohh!" Irene said clearly as the beefy cock began to ramrod her sex-asylum. She strained her slim legs upward to try to contain just a fraction more of the energized monster ravaging her clinging cunt. "Ohhhh, God! It's-so- good!"
It's the only time she has a good word for me, Norm Blanchard thought to himself as he concentrated upon burying his pork in Irene's steaming depths to the final quarter-inch. And he had to admit it was the only time he had a good word for her. Irene was far and away the best fuck he'd ever had. Something about the tremendous combination of his cock and her cunt showered sparks down from the skies.
He dug with his knees as he slammed away at Irene's open-throated, gaping pussy, the whacking sounds of his belly contacting hers filling the bedroom. Irene feverishly threw her bottom upward to help in her pussy's piercing, unconsciously falling into the joint rhythm which had been spectacularly theirs ever since their first time in bed together. "Ohhhhhh!" she moaned, and the moan trailed off to a whimper. "Fuck me, Norm! Fuck meeeeee!"
Her breath caught in her throat as a quick contraction of her cunt-sheath upon the slippery beef engulfed in it tremored her to her curled-up toes. "Norm!" she said urgently, tightening her legs around his back. I'm-coming, Norm!" Her delicately shaped but sturdy bare behind flurried convulsively as lightning bolts energized it. "Norm! I'm- COOMMMMMMMMING!"
Beneath him he felt every slightest nuance of Irene's throbbing cunt as it grabbed hungrily at his prick. He had slowed momentarily to permit Irene to come off unhindered, but now he resumed his deep-plowing action again. Irene's warm, shuddering thighs enfolded him again and her hands played lightly along his hard-muscled back.
Deliberately he held down his own excitement as he fucked his ex-wife with steady, swinging strokes. He knew Irene was almost always good for a second come if she had just a moment to regroup her sexual forces. Already he could feel a tightening constriction of the female thighs enclosing him, along with a quickening thrust of the oozing cunt containing his thrusting big cock.
A quick shiver rippled through Irene's soft flesh as a renewed flame was kindled in her depths. "Ohhhhhh!" she cried out. "There it--is again!" Her gleaming white bottom, glistening with a thin film of perspiration, spiraled upward from the bedsheet. "Norm! Ooooooh, it's-lovely! Harder! H-harder, Norm! Oooooooh! Oooooh! OHHHHHHHHHhhhhhhhh!!"
Her voice ran down and her thighs slumped laxly as her second come overwhelmed her. Above her Norm slashed mightily at her slackened cunt as he felt his own eruption near. A slow, tingling throbbing in his prick tightened every muscle in his body including the nape of his neck, and he banged away in blind passion at Irene's relaxed flesh as his loins spurted a rocketing series of jet streams inside her already drenched cunt. When the final burst had wrenched itself from his quivering lance he subsided upon Irene's belly and breasts.
Neither of them said anything.
They had just concluded their only form of successful communication.
After a moment Norm rolled off his ex-wife and stretched out on his side. He was still breathing heavily. Irene rose from the bed and went into the bathroom, where she wet one end of a towel and wiped between her legs carefully. Tiny interior muscles in her thighs were still fluttering from her reaction to Norm's fucking of her, but the immediate postcoital lassitude was already evaporating. She employed a spray-douche and again wiped herself thoroughly before leaving the bathroom.
The bedroom was empty.
She found Norm in the kitchen, still naked, standing at the refrigerator pouring himself another drink from the martini pitcher. "Get your clothes on!" Irene snapped at him. "D'you think I want Jessie walking in on you like that? I don't take an ad in the paper about this sort of thing, you know."
"But you love it," Norm jeered.
Irene didn't deny it. "Get your clothes on," she repeated, and stooped to pick up her own underwear from the kitchen floor. Despite herself her eyes went to Norm's greasy-looking penis, reduced but never small, swinging heavily with each movement he made. She hated herself for feeling so dependent upon that lump of flesh for whose proprietor she felt no other salutatory emotion. It was small satisfaction to her that she knew Norm felt the same way about her. He had a current girl friend, Alice, the most recent in a long succession of girl friends, but after too many martinis one afternoon he had confessed to Irene that none of his girl friends had ever held a candle to her in the pure, unadulterated art of lovemaking.
She used to wonder if such an admission early in their marriage might have saved it, but deep down inside she knew better. They should never have married at all. They were almost complete opposites. Norm was loud, fast-talking, and a natural chaser. Irene was quiet, soft-spoken except when angry, and instinctively mono-gamic. They would never have discovered their total affinity in bed if Irene hadn't succumbed one night to the female urge to find out if this bragging, boasting male actually shot the game he talked so well. The fact that he did had been a mind-bending, body-exhilarating experience which led to marriage against her better judgment. It simply hadn't worked.
Norm dressed in the kitchen while Irene remade the bed. His mind was already on other things; on other ports of call, Irene thought resentfully. "I'll call you," he grunted as he swathed himself again in his jacket, a jacket whose loud checks should have appeared garish but instead appeared merely to highlight Norm's broadshouldered good looks. He had a hand on the apartment door, ready to leave, when they both heard Jessie's key in the lock. Norm stood aside as she opened the door and entered the apartment in her wrinkled skating costume.
"I was just leavin', sugar," he said breezily to Jessie, "but for you I'd make an exception." He reached for her but she evaded him. She had had a lot of practice in evading him, and managed it tolerantly. Norm Blanchard's attitude in life was to punch all the buttons in sight until he found a machine that lit up. Jessie was always scrupulous never to give even a hint that she was moving in on the property of her best friend, Irene, despite the fact that Irene herself repeatedly declared that she had written off the property.
"What happened to you?" Norm demanded when his eyes stopped caressing Jessie's more ample curves long enough to notice that the skating costume encasing them was bunched and lumpy-looking.
"The ice gave way and I went into the pond," Jessie explained. "Fortunately there was a shack nearby where we could get partly dry."
"Yeah, well, you'd better inhale five fingers of whiskey an' take a hot shower," Norm advised. "See you, girls." He went out the door, closing it behind him.
Jessie walked from the tiny hallway into the kitchenette. She stopped and sniffed the air lightly, then looked inquiringly at Irene. "Yes," Irene admitted, "if you'd come home a few minutes earlier you'd have found us in the bedroom." She and Jessie had been good friends even before Irene's ill-fated marriage, and they had no secrets from each other.
"Sometimes I think that man is psychic," Irene continued. "All I have to do is relax and think a naughty thought or two and the phone rings and there he is."
"And you usually say 'Come on over,'" Jessie said gently.
"I always say 'Come on over,'" Irene corrected her. She smiled ruefully. "Even detesting the big hulk the way I do every second he doesn't have his joystick in my playground."
"He's a handsome brute," Jessie said lightly.
"Brute is the operative word," Irene said grimly. "But listen, for once I agree with him; you've got to get out of those things and into the shower. Did I hear you say that 'we' got partly dry in a nearby shack?"
"Wayne went into the pond, too, trying to get me out," Jessie explained.
"How could you get dry inside a shack in this near-zero weather, Jessie?"
"It had a fireplace. And a bed. We stripped and got into the bed while we were waiting for the fireplace to warm it up."
"Ah-ha!" Irene said. "What else got warmed up?"
"Exactly what you're thinking," Jessie admitted.
"With Wayne?" Irene looked doubtful. "Somehow I never think of him in that capacity."
"It wasn't much of a capacity," Jessie replied. "But there we were, and what was I going to do once we thawed out sufficiently to think about something other than how cold we were? I started to stop him once, but he took it personally, as an indication I was turned off by his acne, so finally I let him do what he wanted."
"He should do something about his face," Irene said. "It doesn't have to look that way. When I was working in a dermatologist's office I learned a few tricks myself. But it wasn't any good for you with Wayne?"
"Not very. I don't think he's had very much experience, or practice, or whatever you want to call it. He's not sure of himself."
"But he has the equipment?" Irene asked curiously.
"Above average, I'd say," Jessie returned. She began to remove her skating costume. "Perhaps well above." She smiled at her friend. "Not that I've compared forty dozen male dinguses."
"Shame on you for not doing so," Irene said. She picked up Jessie's discarded clothing and carried it into the bathroom where she deposited it in the hamper. She turned on the shower, encased in a roomy glassed-in cubicle, and adjusted the water temperature to her satisfaction. "There, try that."
Jessie moved past her into the shower stall after encasing her dark hair in a rubber cap. Irene stood watching the gleaming whiteness of her friend's body, its luminescence standing out even against the background of white tile. Belly, bust, and buttocks, Jessie's curves flowed smoothly into each other, each an amplification of Irene's more fragile-looking lissome matching points. "Ahhhhh, that hot water feels good!" Jessie sighed, pirouetting under the steaming water. "There was a while there this afternoon I never expected to feel warm again."
"I'm going to get in there with you," Irene said impulsively. She began to take off her clothing again. Stripped, she put on a matching rubber cap and stepped into the capacious cubicle. There was still a faint pink mark upon her lower belly, the residue from Norm's stomach frictioning against her own. She took a soap bar and began to soap Jessie's full-flowered curves. Jessie took another bar and returned the compliment upon Irene's more girlish dimensions.
The two dazzling white bodies gleamed in the steamy atmosphere. They soaped and rinsed, soaped and rinsed, hands moving ever more slowly, ever more intimately. Irene stood on tiptoe to press a warm kiss upon the nape of Jessie's neck. Jessie soaped Irene's deep buttock-crevice lingeringly, parting the soft globes to finger gently the anal and vaginal orifices.
Irene turned off the water at last and the two girls blended in a long, affectionate kiss. Outside the shower stall they patted each other dry with fluffy towels. Without saying a word they proceeded to Jessie's bedroom where Jessie threw back the covers on the bed. The clean sheet received the two moist bodies which immediately fused in a passionate mouth-kiss.
When their lips parted the only sound in the bedroom was their mutual deep gasps for more air. Their chins rested on each other's shoulders, their eyes closed. Irene began to kiss the creamy skin of Jessie's upper arm, sliding her mouth along Jessie's shoulder, bending her head still more to take in an additional area of Jessie's tender flesh.
Jessie raised a languid hand to take hold of the very tip of one of Irene's strawberry-pink nipples. She squeezed it until it flowered redly, then steered it carefully to rub sexily against her own nipple. Jessie then took both tit-stalks between thumb and forefinger and treated them to a prolonged fondling.
Irene sucked at Jessie's upper arm, then removed her mouth and stared greedily at the red blotch she had created on the white flesh. "You taste so sweet, Jessie," Irene murmured deep in her throat.
She stroked Jessie's bare behind, reaching over her to do it, then inserted a hand between the white thighs and probed persistently until they opened. Irene's parted fingers caressed the satin-smooth insides of Jessie's legs, occasionally permitting her hand to stray upward and brush meaningfully against the silky dark hair surmounting Jessie's pink gash.
Jessie shivered, and her thighs writhed voluptuously. "I-didn't come-with Wayne," she said jerkily. "Help me, Irene."
Irene let her fingers ascend to Jessie's innocent-looking coral cunt-lips and began to tickle them open. She slipped her fingertips into the length of Jessie's crevice and strummed them lightly against the already moist aperture, playing the plumper girl as if she were a delicate instrument. The first joints of Irene's long fingers curled over, working just inside the juicy slit and very slowly insinuating the inner lips apart.
Jessie's arms were around Irene and her hands were on Irene's bottom, kneading the sleek round cheeks almost roughly, pinching large folds of buttock-flesh between her fingers, then slowly letting it escape. Irene's trim-looking bare backside was soon covered with red-looking marks. Jessie then inserted a single finger between Irene's thighs. She lifted Irene's leg and traced the finger firmly across the very center of Irene's dimpled cunt.
Irene lowered the upstretched leg over Jessie's hip, and Jessie's finger sank beautifully into Irene's sex-asylum. The finger pushed with a slight sucking sound between the thick petal-lips and disappeared completely from sight. Jessie began to frig it gently in and out, in and out, using the rest of her fingers to tickle wantonly the hot, moist length of Irene's squirming slot.
They kissed again, moaning deliriously with the sensation of pleasure they were bringing each other. Irene's free hand groped desperately for Jessie's breast, found it, and squeezed the soft melon in agitated, furious fondling. Jessie elapsed Irene's teat with similar abandon. They were amazingly rough with each other.
As if a starting pistol had been fired, they began a simultaneous fucking motion with their hips, driving their straining cunts harder and harder onto the fingers penetrating each. Jessie threw her head back suddenly, breaking the prolonged contact with Irene's mouth during which tongues were exchanged furiously. "I'm coming!" Jessie said hoarsely. "I'm-COMING!" Irene responded with a long moan. Jessie thrashed helplessly upon the impaling finger before slowing to a sighing surcease. The girls remained motionless for a long moment with only slight quivering movements in their thighs betraying their immobility.
Then Jessie raised herself and swung herself around so that her bottom faced Irene's head as Irene reclined on her back. Quickly Jessie's right thighs lifted and came across Irene's body. Jessie squatted boldly astride Irene's shoulders, leaning forward at once so that her hind cheeks opened and the luscious, dew-wet valley in between was blatantly displayed to Irene's eyes.
Jessie bent lower, supporting herself by placing her hands on Irene's thighs. As Jessie bent forward, the full beauty of her scarlet-lipped cunt came into view. From the backward position it looked like a long, deep wound, the puffy lips on either side of the aperture opening to expose the red inner flesh. Jessie's fingers plucked on the soft inside of Irene's thighs, urging them to open.
The thighs parted and lifted, and Irene's surprisingly mature, fleshy-lipped, lightly oozing pussy came into view. Jessie darted her head down upon it, and a spasm rippled through Irene's flesh. At the same time she seized Jessie's parted buttocks and drew them backward and down upon her face. Jessie's mouth and tongue were working busily all over Irene's uplifted quim, until Irene's legs stiffened suddenly, her thighs descended, and her heels drummed spastically upon the bed as a quick come overtook her.
"I can't-reach you, Irene!" Jessie complained hoarsely.
Irene's thighs raised and parted again and Jessie's quick tongue licked lovingly at her friend's overflowing chasm. Irene stroked the wide-beamed hind cheeks of Jessie's upturned bare behind gently, using her thumbs to spread them more widely until the brown anus came into view. It was pursed scant inches above Irene's mouth, and Irene raised her head and deliberately trailed her extended tongue from the base of Jessie's pouting cunt right up the center of her ass-crease, over the hard, taut bump of Jessie's asshole to the beginning of her spine.
Down came the busy tongue, this time to linger at Jessie's rear hole and lap at it steadily. At the other end of the fleshy tangle on the bed, Jessie's dark head burrowed ever more deeply as her tongue thrust vigorously inside Irene's juicy quiff. Irene lifted herself so that Jessie could penetrate still more deeply as her mouth worked violently, worrying the red meat. Jessie sucked large pieces of flesh inward and darted her tongue in faster and faster movements inside Irene's steaming cunt.
Jessie's hands slipped beneath Irene's buttocks and began to squeeze them urgently. Her fingers dug into the loose folds of flesh, lifting, turning, and spreading them in every direction. Her nose buried itself in Irene's slit so deeply that it tickled Irene's aroused clit. Jessie's beautiful ass, still poised over Irene's face, began to bob and weave in wild, frantic spasms, so that Irene had to grip it hard to keep her tongue employed.
The two girls rolled from side to side on the bed, sucking and chewing ecstatically upon the proffered cunts with Jessie's asshole still coming in for special attention. Then Jessie scrunched her backside down completely over Irene's mouth as a second come overcame her, and lapping and sucking sounds attested to Irene's speedy swallowing of Jessie's spend. They lay inert for an interval, Jessie's breasts thrust firmly into Irene's round stomach, the shapely globes glistening with sweat. Jessie finally twisted aside off Irene's body, switching ends in the process, and they rested side-by-side on their backs with an arm around each other, both upturned cunts still twitching slightly from the aftermath of their exertions. A thin film of perspiration covered both silky-skinned bodies and their hard breathing caused the strawberry-nippled breasts and the grape-nippled breasts to rise and fall in unison.
They smiled at each other and exchanged a kiss, amusing in its daintiness after the immediately preceding fiercely sexual activity. "We'll have to shower again," Irene whispered.
"Yes," Jessie murmured. "Thanks, Irene."
"Thank you, baby."
Jessie sighed luxuriantly and flung an arm over her eyes. "I feel so good now, Irene."
"Someone should teach Wayne a thing or two," Irene replied. "It's lousy to be left hanging like that." She was silent for a moment. "That's one thing you can say about my ex-husband," she resumed. "From the age of twelve Norm probably never left a girl hanging. I should be ashamed to admit it but sometimes I start to come before he gets it inside me."
"He's a man," Jessie said. "Wayne's still a boy. In some ways."
"There's hardly that much difference in their ages," Irene protested.
"But there's a hard masculinity that projects from Norm," Jessie said.
"That's not all that projects from him," Irene giggled. She turned her head to look at her friend speculatively. "You ought to find someone like Norm, Jessie."
"One of these days," Jessie replied lightly. "Speaking of men, Irene, Wayne was giving me a lecture today about not cuddling up more to Milton King. Wayne thinks I won't get the cashier's job unless I do."
Irene had attended several bank parties with Jessie, and she knew Milton King. "For once I think Wayne is right," she said. "Milton King is a slippery piece of goods near a skirt. But what of it if you want the job?"
"You mean I should do it? Let him screw me?"
"Why not? It's the way of the world. You want the job, you go down on your back. It's a big deal?"
"Well, no," Jessie said slowly. "You know I enjoy sex with a man I like. But what I don't like is the thought of that sneering Milton gloating over having had my ass."
"He's not that bad," Irene protested. "He's a rather attractive guy, as a matter of fact, if you're not turned off by prematurely gray hair. And there's no question he's a swinger. Where's the harm in a roll in the hay if it gets you what you want? And if you intend to make a career in the bank, what choice do you have?"
"You sound like Wayne," Jessie answered. "That's about chapter and verse of the preachment I had from him this afternoon." She pursed her lips reflectively. "I don't know. I guess I just don't like the idea of being used."
"You'd be using him, for God's sake!" Irene returned warmly. "You sound like Queen Victoria was still on the throne of England. Snap out of it, Jessie."
"Yes, but-"
"Get with it, Jessie," Irene reiterated. "This is important to you."
"Suppose I wasn't his type?"
Irene snorted with suppressed laughter. "I've seen him watching you, baby. He's already bored your cute little cunny in every way except reality. Take it from the Voice of Experience, you don't have to worry one iota about not being Milton King's type. You can write your own ticket with him."
"But how can I change so suddenly after being so standoffish with him for so long?" Jessie worried.
"Men don't worry about when a girl turns on with them, honey. Just as long as she does."
"But if he's screwing Gloria now would he have time for me?"
"You sound like Alice in Wonderland, Jessie. Just wave it under his nose and make sure you've got a soft spot to land on your back. Listen, what's wrong with fucking for him to get the job and then sticking it up his supercilious ass afterward? With the cashier's job under your belt you'll be getting a shot at his job someday."
"Okay, okay," Jessie said.
"You mean you'll do it?"
"I mean I'll think about it," Jessie corrected her friend. "Let's shower."
Thirty playful minutes later a thoughtful Jessie got back into bed and turned off the light.
She lay in the soft darkness for quite a while before sleep overcame her, thoughts of Milton King and the bank whirling busily through her mind.
CHAPTER THREE
Wayne Evans sat across the desk from Milton King in the quiet of the after-banking-hours closing time and watched the bank's executive vice-president scan a column of figures in connection with the Acme Printing Company's application for an industrial loan. Wayne's presence was a part of the additional apprenticeship he was serving prior to being appointed a branch manager, and she was the first to admit that he had learned a great deal from these after-hours conclaves in which he had had the opportunity to benefit from observation of Milton King's incisive, sharply honed business instincts.
There was a double tap on the office door and Gloria Carson entered. Gloria was a cool-looking blonde whose brief miniskirt disclosed attractive legs. Wayne had always had doubts about the naturalness of the coloring of Gloria's bouffant hairdo, but there was no doubting the attractiveness of the slender legs fairly begging for masculine attention in their snug-fitting pantyhose. The shortness of Gloria's skirt was an offense against the bank's conservative dress code, but no one was telling the current girl friend of the executive vice-president to go home and come back to work dressed more appropriately.
Milton King looked up from his worksheet as he sensed the additional presence. He was a handsome man whose sharply chiseled bronzed features, maintained even during the winter with a sunlamp, contrasted favorably with his graying hair. Jogging and regular exercise kept his figure trim enough to belie his thirty-eight years. His skin tone was such that it was the envy of the bank's stenographic pool. "Yes, Gloria?" he said absently, his mind still on the loan application.
But Wayne's unexpected presence in the vice-presidential office had flustered Gloria. "Oh, I'm so-it's nothing, Mr. King," the blonde said hastily. "It can-it can wait until tomorrow. You're busy."
"Yes," the gray-haired vice-president agreed. "Tomorrow, then."
Gloria hesitated, obviously not expecting the dismissal despite her disclaimer, but then turned on her heel and left the office. Wayne smothered a smile at the blonde's discomfiture.
His eyes followed the miniskirted hips until the closing door concealed them. He compared Gloria's figure mentally to Jessie's, and despite the blonde's obvious attractions she didn't fare well in the comparison. Wayne's mouth went dry as he recalled Jessie's fully displayed lust charms at the cabin near the farm pond in the aftermath of the skating misadventure. He was prepared to wager that if Jessie ever made a play for Milton King Gloria's current queen-of-the-office status was due for an abrupt decline.
"The amount of this fixed assets figure," Milton King began, then paused.
"Yes, Milt?" Wayne replied alertly. The vice-president insisted upon the common touch. At work and even at office parties he was Milt and his wife was Dolly.
"I seem to recall that it differs from the amount shown on the preliminary application," the gray-haired man said. He swiveled in his chair and opened a drawer in a file behind his desk. He ticked off several file folders rapidly, then leaned back in his chair, frowning. "That's right, I don't have it here. It's in a briefcase at home with the Cartwright application due to the interlocking directorships."
He hesitated, considering, then made up his mind. "I hate to prolong your day this way, Wayne, but we should really check out this apparent discrepancy. If I'm right about it, and I believe I am, we want to know it before we present this application to the directors. You'd better catch a cab and run out to my house, Wayne, and bring my briefcase back with you. Dolly will find it for you. Once we have that preliminary application for comparison purposes, we should be able to wrap this up rather quickly."
Wayne rose from his chair. "Certainly, Milt," he said.
"You may have a bit of trouble catching a cab at this hour," the vice-president continued, "but I'll have the rest of these figures analyzed by the time you get back."
Wayne left the office and went out back to the parking lot. He had driven to work that day, something he didn't always do, but he hadn't mentioned it to Milton King because he could now put in a petty cash voucher for the supposed round-trip cab ride. Bank salaries were conservative and opportunities to pad them, however slight, were never overlooked.
Wayne drove rapidly to Milton King's field-stone home on the outskirts of town. He turned into the circular crushed stone driveway and parked near the white colonial-style columns framing the front door. He had to sound the door chimes three times before anything happened.
The door opened suddenly then, and Wayne blinked in surprise at Dolly King standing there in elaborate deshabille, a lacy negligee carelessly atop what appeared to be equally gossamer underwear. Wayne averted his glance nervously.
"Shorry," Milton King's wife said in slurred accents. "Had t' fin' something t' put on." She tittered like a schoolgirl. "Come in, come in." She backed away from the open door, teetering precariously in high-heeled rhinestoned bedroom slippers.
Wayne followed her cautiously, closing the door. He had heard the office stories about Dolly King's drinking problem but he had always discounted them. "I'm here for a briefcase of Milt's, Mrs. King," he began, still pursuing Dolly King's somewhat erratic passage through the formal entrance hall into a delightfully cozy-looking sitting room. On a coffee table before the low-banked fire in the marbled fireplace were a half-empty box of chocolates and a half-empty bottle of vodka.
"Got t' have li'l drinkie first," Dolly King said, facing about to confront Wayne. She swayed slightly as she spoke. "Nothing like li'l drinkie t' make everyone good friends, right, Wayne?"
"I really don't have time, Mrs. King," Wayne said hurriedly. His nervousness was increasing. Standing before the fireplace as she was, Dolly King's figure was spectacularly silhouetted by the leaping flames. A short woman, her large bust, small waist, and wide-bottomed hips contributed to a womanly ensemble that increased Wayne's saliva-flow. The lacy underwear and negligee concealed little of the bountiful prospects beneath.
"Call me Dolly," the plump little woman insisted. "Got t' have one li'l drinkie, Wayne. Hate t' drink alone."
She wavered uncertainly to the coffee table and poured a stiff three fingers into an empty glass. She tottered on her high heels to a cabinet from which she removed another glass into which she poured another three fingers. She advanced upon Wayne and thrust the second glass into his unwilling hand. "There!" she said in triumphantly blurred accents. She went back to the coffee table for her own glass. "Here's t' never havin' t' drink alone," she proposed a toast.
Wayne smiled uneasily and took a quick sip of the straight vodka as Dolly King lowered the level in her glass substantially. "I really do appreciate this, Mrs. Ki-Dolly," he said, "but I've got to get back to the office with Milt's briefcase."
Dolly greeted this announcement by replacing her glass on the coffee table and once more approaching Wayne. With no warning she threw her arms around him and kissed him on the mouth, standing on tiptoe to accomplish it. Wayne's startled reflexive jerk spilled a dollop of vodka from his glass down Dolly's ample front.
"Oh, I'm sorry!" Wayne blurted.
Dolly ignored her alcoholic baptism. "Good frien's, hmmm, Wayne?" she purred throatily. She appeared to notice her dampened bosom for the first time. "Might's well get out've this rag." She unfastened a tie and stripped the sheer negligee from herself. Wayne's nervous eye-blink increased almost to tic proportions as Dolly's portly but shapely curves fairly leaped at him from the tenuous confines of see-through babydoll bra and panties. The choice of underwear would have been ridiculous in a woman Dolly's age had it not been for her round, childish, kewpie-doll features which made the underwear seem oddly appropriate. Her fluffy, natural-blonde hair framed her innocent-looking face.
"Milt's briefcase," Wayne stammered. "He said-he said you'd find it."
"Shertainly," Dolly replied with alcoholic dignity. "Inna minute." Wayne looked away and then looked back again at an embonpoint crested by roseate nipples and a deeply curved lower belly adorned with a golden fleece. "Y' like my new und'wear?"
"I'm sure Milt will find it most attractive," Wayne said tactfully. "Now if you'll find-"
"Never shee it," Dolly interrupted. "He never looks." She took a step forward-forward-half a step and half a lunge-and grabbed Wayne again. "Never looks." Her right hand fumbled for his zipper, found it, and drew it downward.
"Mrs. King!" Wayne's soaring protestation cracked tremolo-fashion. "I mean Dolly!" He bent almost double trying to remove his groin from his boss' wife's prying fingers. The vodka glass in his hand helped to render ineffective his efforts to fend her off. "This is-I mean you -Mrs. King! Dolly!"
Dolly's persistence placed Wayne's prick firmly in her hand after she wormed it out of his shorts. "Stout fella," she said approvingly, patting it with her free hand. She took that hand and seized Wayne's, which she transferred to the warm contours of her luscious bottom. "Y' like t' feel my ass?"
Wayne's breath was caught somewhere deep in the confines of his dry throat. The feel of the soft, warm flesh under his palm combined with the pressure of Dolly's hand on his penis contributed to an erection so sudden, so hard, and so complete that it hurt him to move. His demoralization was furthered when Dolly surged up against him again, covering his mouth with wet kisses.
"Fuck Milton," Dolly said breathily. "Got t' fuck you t' fuck Milton." She dropped on her knees and took Wayne's rampant rigidity inside her soft mouth.
The hinges of Wayne's knees fluttered. The vodka glass fell from his lax grasp, bouncing unbroken on the thick Oriental rug while the remaining vodka darkened a patch of colorful carpeting. The sucking pull of Dolly's lips on his cock had Wayne in such a state he wouldn't have cared if Milton King appeared beside them that instant.
He reached downward and with his hands under Dolly's armpits raised her to her feet despite her murmured protests at losing her mouth-grip on Wayne's robust prick. In a series of fierce tugs he removed Dolly's see-through babydoll panties and plunged his hand into the sweetmeat at her golden-fleeced thigh juncture. Dolly moaned softly as Wayne cupped her entire nest on his palm.
Wayne had never felt so horny. He capsized his boss' wife with arm and leg pressure and rolled her over on her back on the lush carpeting. He dropped down on his knees and hurriedly applied his purplish prick-head to the disclosed salmon-pink cunt-slit with its dimpled entrance-hole. In a series of quick jabs that had Dolly's round white thighs vibrating he forced his way into the fleshy slot.
Haste was still foremost in his mind despite his sex-frenzy, and he began a rapid fucking movement in and out of Dolly's moist cunt. She remained beneath him placidly for a moment before reaching up and stilling his body-movement with a double-handgrip upon his waist. "No!" she said loudly. "'S not right. You boys with th' big ones always think you have to ride the rails." She squirmed beneath Wayne. "Get down lower n' drag your cock over my clitoris."
Wayne shifted his knees and impatiently humped his rear again. Dolly responded at once to the new position. Her breath whistled in teakettle fashion and her eyes bulged with pleasure. Wayne was surprised to feel the deeper penetration he achieved along with a new titillation as the roughened underside of his quick-plunging big prick rubbed against the bright pink bud of Dolly's clit. Dolly ooooh'd and ahhhhh'd and mmmmmm'd as she correlated the movements of her corpulent smooth belly and wide-flaring bottom with Wayne's prick-stabbing of her pussy whose sheath-walls grabbed ecstatically at the fleshy intruder.
"Ohhhhhh!" Dolly sighed. "'S so good! But slow-it down, y'hear me? There's no prize-for a track record. Oooooooh! Ohh! That's-better! Ahhhhhhh! Now you're-getting it-in gear! Ohhh! Oooh, yesssss!"
Despite his apprehension at what he was doing with his boss' wife, Wayne thought he had never before had such a hardon. Dolly's delicious female rotund amplitudes seemed to inspire his cock-screwing cunt-penetration. The chubby blonde's soft little moans and wails caused him to powerdive her depths ever harder.
In a floodtide of heat himself, Wayne savaged the prick-clasping cunt rigorously, working up to a stage where the tingling tip of his straining cock announced his own imminent deluge. Heedless of Dolly's renewed effort to slow him down, Wayne plowed the blonde's sex-furrow until its pinkness turned first cerise and then maroon. He grunted furiously and bellowed involuntarily in Dolly's ear as a quick-heaving liquefied boilover shot through his fleshy linchpin and inundated its hideaway.
Dolly stared up at the ceiling as Wayne's movements upon her slowed to a slight jogging motion. "Ohhhhh, Christ!" her voice rose clearly. "I needed that!"
With partial recovery of his senses after the draining of his sex fury, Wayne's fears about the position in which he found himself redoubled. Suppose the woman took a notion to talk? He was about to speak when Dolly cut in ahead of him. "Don' you tell Milton I had a drink, y'hear?" she demanded. "He'd turn my poor butt sky-blue-pink."
Wayne had pulled out of her although he was still on his knees in front of her. Her disheveled but appealing brimful nudity was still fascinating to him. The scarlet, slow-dripping cunt stirred a faint renewal of interest in his withered staff. He marveled at her remark. She was afraid he'd tell Milton that she'd been drinking, but she didn't have a word to say about their other activity. And activity there had been. Dolly's behind and Wayne's knees were both reddened from friction despite the soft Oriental carpeting.
"Listen, I've got to get back to the bank," Wayne said hurriedly. "Where's his briefcase?"
"Hall closet," Dolly mumbled.
Wayne surged to his feet. He was surprised to find that he still had his clothes on; he had never felt more naked than when performing with the chubby blonde. He tucked in his diminished rod and sipped himself up while he walked into the front hall. He found the briefcase and set it on a chair.
Dolly was struggling to regain her feet when he re-entered the sitting room. Wayne took her arm and assisted her. She seemed much more sober but still in a languid mood. He felt absurdly proud that he had been able to bring this mature woman to such a rousing climax, and he patted her bare seat gently. Dolly smiled at him mistily. "God, I needed that!" she said huskily, heedless of her own disheveled nudity.
It surprised Wayne. He would have thought Milton King more than capable of taking care of his wife. But then the explanation came to him: his boss was too busy taking care of all the hot little female asses he hired at the bank. Wayne had always felt jealous when the door of Milton's office closed behind a newly hired girl of one of Milton's "instructional" talks. He had seen some girls emerging from such talks red-faced and wobbly kneed. He had often wondered how Milton dared to be so bold in a field where boldness was usually conspicuous by its absence, but his boss pulled few sexual punches.
"Whyn't you drop around some evening?" Dolly suggested coyly.
"Oh, I couldn't!" Wayne's immediate reaction was near-panic; here he wasn't safely away yet and the woman was already talking about the next time.
"Never anyone here but me," Dolly continued with some of her former bitterness back in her voice. "You come. Any time."
"I'll-I'll call you," Wayne improvised, sidling toward the hallway and the briefcase. "And-and thanks. Really."
"He's thankin' me!" Dolly marveled. She had stooped to retrieve her negligee, and the whole of her ample, nakedly gleaming white buttocks flowered fruitily from her absurdly tiny waist as Wayne lingered for a final look. He had never experienced such female abundance, and he tore himself away with the greatest reluctance, but he just had to get the briefcase to the bank. "Th-thanks," he stammered again. "It was-it was great."
"You've got a bunch to learn, Wayne," Dolly said from the other room when he stood with his hand on the door. She giggled, a high-pitched tinkling sound. "But I'd say you're a learner." Still nude, she blew him an archly girlish kiss.
Wayne snatched up the briefcase, opened the door, and trotted down the walk and across the crushed stone to his car.
Dolly's promise of more of the same had reheated his blood, but he couldn't afford to even think about it right now.
Why, if Milton King ever learned that Wayne Evans had been fucking Dolly King, well- But Wayne's quick shiver as he started his car was at least as much anticipatory relish as it was fear.
Jessie Irwin woke in the morning with her mind made up.
She didn't feel that it was Wayne's practical urgings or Irene's cynical comments that had brought it about; rather, her subconscious had been working upon the decision for some time now, and suddenly there appeared to be nothing more to think about.
She was going to make a deliberate play for Milton King in the hope of landing the cashier's job at the bank which had all but escaped her while she was acting so prissily in the face of the facts of life at the bank. It might be too late -Milton might already have committed himself to Gloria about the position-but Jessie was determined now to leave no stone unturned in her effort to achieve the status for which she knew she was qualified. She didn't like the decision at which she had arrived because it offended her sense of justice; after all, the job should have sought her, but since it hadn't, she was no longer going to be squeamish about rectifying the situation.
She showered quickly, then opened a fresh box of underwear that had been a birthday gift from Irene. The pale blue bra-and-panty set were so wispy that as the panties ascended Jessie's white thighs and encased her voluminous curves she could see her dark pubic thatch through the thin material. With the bra clasped snugly over her surging bubbies, the darker nipples and areolas were plainly in view. Jessie surveyed the ensemble with satisfaction in her full-length mirror.
She went to her closet and ran her hand along the line of hanging dresses thoughtfully. She took down a miniskirted little number, held it up against herself, then returned it to the closet. The skirt was mini enough, but the shirtwaist-style top was a bit too highnecked for this occasion. Jessie removed a light brown minidress which complemented her eye color. She folded the dress quickly and dropped it over her head, then took a deep breath and held it while she tugged it down over her flowing curves. I should really lose a few pounds, Jessie thought as she examined the result in her mirror. This is really a bit much.
The miniskirt was both short and tight, but Jessie's newfound determination kept her from chickening out. Ordinarily she would have worn pantyhose with such a revealing outfit, but she sensed instinctively that the time for such displays of modesty was past. She deliberately left the top button of the bodice unfastened, then partly concealed the dereliction by using a jeweled pin as a clasp. She stared into the mirror at the upper slopes of her white bosom and the more-than-hinted-at deep cleavage. There, she thought with satisfaction. That ought to give Milton King something to think about!
Irene had already left the apartment, and Jessie descended in the elevator to the street level. She took a cab instead of driving to work. A car could be an inconvenience at times if a man proposed to take a girl out to dinner. Wherever they went there was also the girl's car to be returned to afterward. Better to set up a situation where a taxi was an all-purpose instrument of transportation.
At the office she wasted no time. She searched her Out basket until she found something requiring Milton King's attention, then without giving herself time to think marched into the bank vice-president's office. "Have you made up your mind yet about the cashier's position, Milton?" she asked as she placed the file folder on Milton's desk.
Milton King looked up from the Bonds section of the Wall Street Journal just as Jessie brushed her hand casually across the folder. It fell to the floor, and she stooped quickly to pick it up. She wasn't quite following Irene's somewhat coarse advice of the previous evening, which had been "to bend down over the bastard's desk until your tit's in his ashtray," but when she straightened up the bank vice-president's eyes were still firmly centered upon her lush embonpoint.
Jessie had to speak again to recapture his attention from the nubile charms almost openly displayed. "I asked about the cashier's position," she said quietly.
"Oh, yes," Milton King said. "The cashier's position." His eyes instinctively took in Jessie's long-stemmed legs under the brief skirt. He had been seeking an opportunity to tell Jessie that she was going to be passed over in favor of Gloria; he opened his mouth to pass sentence immediately, then hesitated. Something-something, he couldn't quite put his finger on it; something was different about Jessica Irwin this morning. Milton King checked the words on the tip of his tongue; the situation would bear checking out.
"I've been meaning to speak to you about that," he broke the short silence which had ensued between them. "But you know how difficult it is to establish a moment's real privacy around here. And the cashier's slot is a position concerning which I need to satisfy myself about the candidates' attitudes as well as their qualifications." He was back in stride, his mellifluous voice gliding easily from syllable to syllable. "I'd suggest that we have lunch together today. I'd been intending to suggest it anyway."
"That will be fine," Jessie acknowledged, and left the vice-president's office. Her palms felt a little damp; she had never put herself in a man's way and asked to be screwed, which essentially was what she was doing today, and she still felt troubled about it. Not troubled enough, though, to change her mind.
The morning passed quickly although Jessie accomplished little. Twice she had to make extra trips to the ladies' room as her bladder and urethral tract refused to contain her urine. She encountered Wayne once near the safety deposit boxes, and he nodded to her absently. Jessie thought to herself that he looked pale and preoccupied. Could it be that Wayne was having pangs of penitential remorse about their coupling in the shack on Sunday? She'd have to talk to him and get that idea out of his mind.
During the morning, Milton King had time to change his mind several times about his upcoming luncheon engagement. His first reaction was to use the occasion simply to tell Jessie the decision had gone against her. The luncheon would serve to get her out of the office if she went to pieces. He could cope with feminine tears and hysterics-God knows he'd coped with enough of both in the case of his wife, Dolly- but that didn't have to mean he liked doing it.
And then there'd been something-well, different was the only word that seemed to fit the chance he'd sensed in Jessie that morning. Why not play it by ear and see what happened? Or better still, force the issue, as only he knew how to force it, and then arrive at a clear-cut negative decision if Jessie continued to act as standoffish with him as she had in the past? And if she didn't-well, time enough to jump that fence when he came to it.
He had never been fully enamored of giving Gloria Carson the cashier's position despite her on-her-back qualifications. There was a stupid streak in Gloria which could affect the bank's -and Milton King's-performance. Jessie was really much more able, of the pair, but Milton was simply following a longstanding practice of his never to advance anyone who wasn't beholden to him or to hire anyone whom he felt he couldn't control.
Noon arrived before Jessie felt herself ready for it. A couple of the girl tellers had commented upon her sudden flamboyant appearance, but Jessie had smilingly turned it aside. If it happened, everyone would know soon enough. The bank's little world was too tight an empire for everyone not to know. That was what had deterred her from making a move for so long; she shrank from the personal exposure of herself. But if the game was worth the candle, it was necessary to play for both game and candle, and she wasn't going to turn back now.
Milton King appeared beside her desk, smilingly urbane, fingering his graying mustache. "Lunch?" he suggested as though the idea had just popped into his mind.
"Surely," Jessie said quietly, although her pulse and heartbeat accelerated. She set her face into casual lines as she removed her handbag from the bottom drawer of her desk and her high heels click-clacked across the grouted tile of the lobby floor. Just before they reached the street Jessie saw Gloria Carson staring after them, eyes narrowed and lips thinned, and she smiled inwardly.
"Most luncheon places you can't hear yourself think, let alone conduct a serious conversation," Milton said as he opened his car door for Jessie in the bank parking lot. His glance appraised the smooth sweep of bare white thigh as Jessie's miniskirt failed to cover her considerable assets as she slid into the front seat on the passenger's side. Why, the goddamn girl doesn't even have pantyhose on, he thought to himself, and his interest quickened. "But I've a little place across town we can be comfortable if you don't mind a sandwich from the fridge." He waited with his hand on the opened car door.
So there it is, Jessie thought. Go with Milton to his little hideaway and do something she'd always promised herself she never would do: screw someone she didn't care anything about. But there was the game and the candle. "I'm sure that will be very nice," she heard herself saying. But she didn't feel blase about it. The tiny pulse at the base of her throat throbbed steadily.
"Fine," Milton said, and closed the door. What did I do to punch the right button with this female after I'd given up on making it with her, he thought as he moved around the car and got under the wheel. It just goes to show you that you never can tell.
Milton's apartment was in a modest-looking building, not in the best part of town. He ushered Jessie aboard the self-service elevator, then led the way down a dimly lighted corridor to a door he opened with a flourish of the key. Inside, Jessie had a quick glimpse of bedroom and sitting room with Chinese-screened kitchenette, the furniture comfortable-looking but nondescript. Then Milton's two hands were reaching for hers and enfolding them. "I rather imagine even the martinis can wait," he said quietly, drawing her to him and tipping her face up toward his. In a second his lips were upon hers and his mustache was prickling Jessie's upper lip.
Despite a fluttering in her stomach walls, she was glad he had taken the direct approach. She wouldn't have cared at all for the butter-fly-on-a-pin effect while being served a drink and a sandwich. Better to get it over with, to have it out in the open. Not that she felt anything might be settled on the spot even if Milton King were totally satisfied with his conquest. She had seen enough of his hard-eyed ruthlessness at the bank to know that he was perfectly capable of using her and then refusing her the position anyway. It was just that she had waited so long that this was the only gambit that remained open to her. That was the gamble.
Milton's lips cruised hers with casual competence, a hand rising to cup her brassiered breast. Jessie made her mind blank to anything except the affair at hand, then pressed her tongue between the male lips tasting faintly of tobacco. At once Milton's tongue plunged between her lips, hard-thrusting and, yes, exciting. His palm squeezed the captured tittie, and little tingling tremors raced through Jessie's plump thighs.
"Inside," he said thickly, and led her into the bedroom. He was already shedding jacket and tie. Jessie could see the thick bulge in his trousers as she unfastened the neck of her minidress. She had herself out of it by the time Milton King stood before her impatiently, clad only in jockey shorts and socks. He turned her around and filled his hands with the sleek flesh of her bottom as it strained the thin material of her new pale blue panties. Then he reached up and unfastened the clasp of her bra.
He pushed the straps from her shoulders and the bra collapsed on her stomach. Milton put his arms around her, took her bare, warm breasts in his palms and drew her backward against himself until his groin-bulge prodded Jessie's pantie-clad buttock-crease. "God, you're a well-teated female!" he breathed.
A bronze statue would have reacted to those kneading palms on her stiff-nippled breasts, Jessie told herself as additional tremors ignited quick response in her moist-feeling interior. Milton King was unhurried; he paid due tribute to each fluttering grape-nippled mound before his hands departed and she felt him pulling down her snug-fitting panties. She held her breath as she felt her gradual exposure and the masculine hands savoring her sweetly curved bare backside. The panties collapsed around her ankles, and she stepped out of them automatically. Her breath seemed caught somewhere deep in her throat.
Milton picked her up suddenly and deposited her on the bed. She had one quick glimpse of him stripping off his shorts before he rejoined her. She had a flashing impression of a stout white cock with a bulging coronal ring before it disappeared as Milton's upper body reared up over her. He kissed her on the mouth again, hard, and Jessie responded feverishly. Her blood seemed to be bubbling in her veins. Her breasts had always been one of her most erogenous zones, and Milton's knowledgeable handling of them had really lighted her fire.
He turned her onto her belly and played with her widesplayed handsome big behind, alternating nipping little pinches with stinging little palm-smacks, then tracing a finger along the course of Jessie's perspiration-dampened buttock-crease. Her bottom began to work with an independent life of its own under the stimulation, and the finger moved lower and caressed her pouting sex-slit as Jessie's breath was expelled in a long sigh and her thighs crawled upon the bedcover.
The palm-smacks became harder, and so did the pinches, but not intolerably so. Jessie's knees clawed for leverage as the mounting heat in her soft globes seemed to penetrate to her molten pussy. Her cunt felt so wet she was afraid she was oozing already. This man really knew how to set up a girl. She wriggled her hot-feeling hind cheeks as the pain-stimulating little slaps and pinches continued.
Milton King suddenly placed both hands beneath Jessie's smoothly curved belly and flipped her over on her back. She stared up at him from eyes that seemed three or four shades darker than he had ever noticed them to be in the office. "Well?" he demanded harshly. "What do you want?"
"You know what I want," Jessie whispered tremulously.
"Say it," he ordered.
She didn't hesitate. "I want you to fuck me, Milton."
She didn't even mind the triumphant-looking smile with which he bent down over her.
CHAPTER FOUR
Jessie closed her eyes as Milton lowered his head and kissed a perfectly shaped breast, then did the same for its twin. His eager mouth returned to the first one and licked and sucked at it while Jessie felt her teat-bud hardening still more from the ardent attention paid it by Milton's tongue. Her hips wriggled slightly on the bed as desire flooded her loins, desire triggered by the hot mouth stimulating her soft flesh.
She felt the mouth move downward from her lush melons as Milton's tongue trailed lasciviously over the round bowl of her nude stomach. She shivered as his head dropped lower and the tongue licked at her mound and the fringes of her feathery pussy-hair. Entirely without conscious thought on her part her bottom rose slightly from the bed, proffering more openly the delights Milton was tasting.
He spread her legs, moving his mouth to the puffy hair-lined lips of her vagina, and Jessie's whole body quivered. Milton felt with his tongue for the tender flanges of her warm cunt, and Jessie moaned softly. She stared down between her breasts at Milton's prematurely gray head locked between her thighs. Could this really be happening to her?
Milton raised his head slightly while he took his thumbs and pressed Jessie's pussy apart so the secret cavern opened and the bright-red inner flesh came into view. It was glistening and wet and secreting moisture which appeared high up on the sensitive flesh of her inner thighs. Milton breathed into her grotto, and Jessie moaned again, twisting her head from side to side.
He lowered his head again and moved his mouth forward, his tongue feeling a way for the rest of him. He worked his mouth around her cuntal lips right into her soft wetness, and Jessie's thigh muscles tautened. She was unable to relax from the feeling of burning lust stimulated in her by the quick-probing tongue.
Milton pushed his face tightly against the dampness of her pussy-slit. He felt her involuntarily move toward him, against his face, and his tongue pushed deeply into her open, eager cunt. He felt exhilarated by the pleasure afforded him by the sexual surrender of this girl who had always appeared so cool and unassailable in the office. The freshness of her body delighted him no less than the delectable female odor from her quivering cunt. He breathed her up into his nostrils while his tongue plunged inside her.
Jessie's excited breath hissed between her half-parted lips as the scouring tongue of the sophisticated man whose head was between her thighs twirled and swirled inside her chalice. Used as she was to Irene's more delicate licking and sucking, the powerful thrust of Milton's hard tongue inside her sex-aerie was unbelievably stimulating. It felt almost like a small prick as it probed her mercilessly, exciting her beyond reason.
The hard tongue located her clitoris, and Jessie's back arched until her silvery-white stomach was shaped like a bow. "Ahhhhhh!" she gasped as Milton's teeth grazed her sensitive bud. "Ohhhhhh!" Wild with pleasure, her hips jerked more of her loins upward into Milton's willing face. In a dim corner of her mind Jessie knew that even if she should suddenly change her mind about the purpose of her visit to this man's in-town apartment, she was still totally unable to change the momentum of what was happening to her. For the moment she was female, pure and simple.
Milton raised his head while he widened Jessie's unresisting legs. He placed himself between them, and through half-closed eyes Jessie saw him massaging a blue-veined, massive-looking cock which jutted forth from his lower belly and whose bluish-red tip showed a trace of sticky-looking seminal fluid. The sight of the big prick, more steely-looking in its rigidity than even Wayne's well-furnished sexual apparatus, sent a quick tremor through Jessie. Dear God, was she actually going to get that enormous tool inside her?
Milton dipped his body at the hips and placed the head of his rocklike penis against the softly parted lips of Jessie's wet-pink vaginal opening. He reached beneath her to take hold of the yieldingly soft hind cheeks of her body-cushions, pulling her up toward him slightly. She could feel the masculine hands pressing the resilient buttock-flesh apart until a finger found her squirming anus and probed it at the same time the lusty prick-head began slowly to bore into her excitedly twitching sex-channel.
The multiple sensations ravaging her flesh with lightning bolts had Jessie on the qui vive with elated acquiescence. She couldn't believe it when she felt the spongy, rubbery tissue of her tight-clenched anus opening slowly to Milton's artful probing until the first joint of his finger was swallowed up inside. He eased more of his muscular shaft inside Jessie's perfervid pussy-hole while he lifted the whole of her hips toward him. He squeezed and massaged her nude hind cheeks while his tool moved inexorably deeper, penetrating her almost completely as her sheath-grabbing cunt-walls sucked him on and on.
The clasping wet warmth of Jessie's quim nearly unhinged Milton's determination to prolong this delightful fuck. He stopped short of bumping Jessie's cervix with the head of his prick and rested for a moment on her slack thighs. Once again he forced apart her plump hind cheeks while the finger lodged in her asshole probed more deeply, and Jessie churned her hips agitatedly as twinges of pain assailed her flesh. The hip-movement frictioned her cunt-depths and labial lips against the brawny pole piercing them, and a starburst of quick-flooding emotions quaked her flesh. "Ooooooooh!" she moaned. In that instant she felt she could have died from the pleasure she was being given.
Milton knew that she was ready, more than ready, in fact. He knew that she wanted nothing so much as the sensation of his greasy shaft, now quiescent as it crammed her pussy, plunging and plunging and plunging into her flesh-strained bower straining to accept it all. He began to move on her deliberately, but his own excitement prevailed, and in seconds his lust-hardened cock was pounding at her, rocking her with his sexual power.
Jessie whimpered continually in a muted sex-whinnying as the big cock slashed into her depths. Her full-cheeked bottom heaved upward wildly as she responded to the fucking, her cunt walls slithering up over the powerful prick, trying to swallow the whole of it, to take it way inside her churning belly. Jessie's whinnying soared to a half-shriek as Milton's hands upon her perspiration-slick backside pulled and pushed her along his rod as he wished. Her voice bloomed in an excited yell as Milton grunted suddenly and rammed into her until she felt his balls smacking against her once-again exposed anus as the penetrating finger slipped away.
Milton fucked faster and faster in and out of Jessie's clutching cunt, filling her whole slit. "Ohhh, God!" she stammered, nearly losing her senses from the almost unbearable stimulation. "Ohhh, Milton! What are-you doing? Ooooooooh, I've never felt-like this!"
Milton raised himself slightly from Jessie's sweaty belly until he could watch his hard, round tube of solid flesh sliding out of her hair-lipped cunt, then gliding back in, glistening and wet and throbbing. A bright blaze flared in Jessie's interior, stroked by the powerful frictioning of her pussy by the hard-thrusting power-rod plumbing her depths. "Ohh!" she panted. "Ohhh, Milton! Ooooh! Ahhhhh! Ohhhhh! Dear-God!!" Her back arched again as her orgasmic spasm overtook her. Her yielding backside quivered and quaked in convulsive flurries as her sheath-walls grabbed repeatedly at the ravaging prick pleasuring her. "MIL-ton!" she yelped, her thighs compressing his body. "Ooooh, I'm-ohhhhhhh!-God, I'm coming!" Her thighs churned in a dance of lust. "I'm-COMING!"
Milton had held off purposely until he was sure of her orgasm. When Jessie subsided limply beneath him with a softly tired little groan of pleasure, he attacked once more that juicily lubricated cunt inside which he was lodged. Jessie's strong hands held his shoulders firmly as he fucked himself off into her yawning chasm in a series of rocketing inundations of her already dripping quim. He rested upon her, breathing hard, as they both felt his steel-hard prick softening and shrinking inside Jessie's relaxed cunt.
He raised himself from her finally and stared down curiously at her reeking, semen-spattered sex-crevice, crimsoned from its exercise. Jessie instinctively drew her thighs together to hide this visual examination of her hard-used hairy pussy, but Milton placed his hands on the soft inner parts of her thighs and drew them apart again until he had looked his fill. "You know you're a hell of a good fuck, Jessie?" he asked gravely.
Mixed emotions bathed Jessie in a confusing melange. Cozy delight in the delicious lassitude her body was enjoying after Milton's masterful fucking of her; shame at her total abandonment instead of what she had intended to be a businesslike submission; feminine humiliation oddly mixed with feminine pride at what she knew was the perfection of her sexual parts so intently observed by Milton just now. But sexual satisfaction predominated; her entire body, all her intimate flesh, was glowing with aftermath-satisfaction.
Milton straightened up on his knees. "About time for that martini, wouldn't you say?" he asked casually. He slipped from the bed and went into the sitting room, where he vanished behind the Chinese screen. Jessie heard the refrigerator door open.
She raised her legs and explored her bottom with both hands. She was sure she showed embarrassing pinch marks. She had seen the glint in Milton's eye in the second before he got off the bed. He might be fixing them martinis, but Jessie knew he intended to fuck her again before they left the apartment and went back to the bank. A slow-rising tide of deep crimson blanketed Jessie's throat and face, because she knew she welcomed the thought.
Milton returned from the kitchenette and handed her a chilled martini. "About that cashier's position, Jessie," he said in the same casual tone, "It's still open." His eyes were upon the fleecy damp hair curling over Jessie's puffed-looking pussy-lips. "As open as that handsome cunt of yours." His flaccid prick began to lengthen and climb slowly from where it rested stickily against his thigh. "Drink up," he urged her, his glance still on her sweaty, oily-looking lower belly. "I want some more of that."
With mingled shame and mounting excitement, but more excitement than shame, Jessie knew she wanted more of it, too.
That afternoon at the bank was one of the longest Jessie could recall. She was still almost totally amazed, even in retrospect, at the "fit" which developed between Milton King and herself in bed. She had never had such a satisfying experience, and from his reaction she had to feel that it had been something special for him, too. They never got the proposed sandwich. After the martini, Milton had got right back into bed with her, and that time had been even better that the first if that were possible.
One reason that the afternoon dragged was that she couldn't wait to get home to the apartment and tell Irene about it. Oh, not all the details-she felt herself pinkening at the remembrance of some of their extravagant carryings-on. But she had no major secrets from Irene, and Jessie was curious to have her apartment-mate play her cynically intellectual rationale-searchlight upon the happening. But another disappointment awaited Jessie at home. Irene hadn't yet returned from the hospital, and Jessie paced the floor impatiently. She still couldn't fully credit that Irene's advice about putting her scruples behind her should have borne such startling fruit. Not that she had lost her scruples entirely, or even the majority of them; she still had an uneasy image of herself doing exactly what she'd always sworn she'd never do, employing her sex to seek her own advancement in the bank. Try as she might to avoid the thought, it was impossible to do so. The experience had been heavenly, but somehow the nagging reminder of her inglorious capitulation forced itself more and more into the forefront of her mind. Milton would think she was an easy lay. Milton would think- She had changed to a sheer nightgown and concealing robe when a knock at the door distracted her. Through the door's one-way glass porthole she made out the tall figure of Norm Blanchard, Irene's ex-husband. She debated not opening the door for a second, afraid Norm would settle in and she'd lose her chance for a heart-to-heart talk with Irene while her body-tingling experience was still fresh in her mind. She finally opened the door, though, thinking that Irene might have sent for Norm for some reason and would be put out if he weren't present when she arrived.
"H'ya, baby," Norm said breezily to Jessie. He walked past her directly to the liquor cabinet and began to fix himself a drink. "Gettin' anything strange lately?"
The casual question was so pertinent to her recent experience that Jessie stared at him suspiciously for an instant before deciding it had been an accident. Norm's next words confirmed her assumption. "Where's the storm-an'-strife?" he demanded. "She tells me to be here an' then she's not here. What gives?"
"I'm sure she'll be home soon," Jessie said soothingly.
"She'd better be," Norm grumbled. He took a swallow of his drink. "I'm a busy man." He grinned companionably at Jessie. "Not so busy I wouldn't have time for you, Jess," he said coaxingly. "You know I been hankerin' to plank your steak for a long time."
"You can keep right on hankering," Jessie retorted. Norm was always trying a verbal approach of one kind or another, his salesman's optimism refusing to accept as a permanent condition the steady succession of no's Jessie gave him in response to his lighthearted propositions. Jessie never really took him seriously. How could she, really, when Norm had so recently been married to Irene, her best friend?
"Ahhhhh, you must be savin' it for the Pope," Norm complained. "It's gonna wither up on you, baby. How d'you know the next time you present arms it won't go off in a cloud of dust?"
Jessie smiled despite herself at the ludicrous image called forth by Norm's words. "I'm not worried," she answered lightly.
Drink in hand, he advanced toward her casually but with a purposeful glint in his eye. Before she realized his intention he had slipped his free arm around her waist and was bending his head down, searching for her lips. "Stop it, Norm!" she said crossly. The hand at the end of the confining arm dropped to her buttocks and manipulated her silky hemispheres. "Norm!"
"Quit fightin' it!" he said, forcing his mouth down onto hers. He pursued again the ample rear globes Jessie had wriggled free from his hand. "Christ, what an ass!"
"Well!" a voice said icily from the sitting room doorway. They both turned to confront an angry-looking Irene. Neither of them had heard her key in the lock. "When the cat's away the mice will play, is that it?"
"I couldn't help it, Irene!" Jessie protested breathlessly, wrenching herself free from the hand so obviously where it shouldn't have been. "He's just-he's just feeling frisky."
Irene sniffed loudly. "What are you doing here now, Jessie?" she demanded. "Isn't this your evening for accounting school?"
"Oh, my!" Jessie clapped a hand over her mouth in dismay. "Something happened at the office today so exciting I couldn't wait to get home and tell you about it, Irene, and I completely forgot about school tonight." The moment she said it she realized how weak it sounded. "Well, it's the truth!" she said defiantly. "Did you think I arranged a rendezvous with Norm?"
Irene remained silent, and Jessie caught a quick exchange of glances between Irene and her ex-husband. Light began to dawn upon her. "Have you two been meeting here once a week on my school nights?" Jessie asked.
"Damn right," Norm said vigorously. "Irene appreciates a stiff prick even if you don't."
"Shut up!" Irene said coldly. "You've got a big mouth."
"Now why don't you talk to me like that when I've got your cunt loaded?" Norm queried her with a wide grin. "You sound a little different at times like that, baby." He finished his drink and set down his glass. "Is the ballgame postponed?"
"Oh, no," Jessie said hurriedly. "I mean it's too late for me to drive back into town to school, but I'll-I'll have a snack at the deli and-and leave you two alone."
"That won't be necessary," Irene said haughtily.
"You mean we're gonna do it right in front of Miss Prissypants here?" Norm grinned. "Man alive, that would really turn me on!"
"I meant nothing of the kind!" Irene snapped. She stepped to one side as Norm advanced upon her with a gleam in his eye. "Norman Blanchard, you take your hands off me!" Irene wriggled like a cut worm as her ex-husband swept her into his arms and fused his mouth upon hers. "Norm! Will you quit?" But despite herself Irene felt the familiar heat creeping through her body at the impact of Norm's hard kiss. She felt his hands raising her dress and slip until her pantied rear was exposed to Jessie's curious gaze. Norm's big hand laved her trim buttocks as his tongue shot into her mouth while his lips nibbled at hers, and Irene shivered while goosebumps stood out on her white thighs. "Norm!" she whispered plaintively, her heart thudding madly as he freed her mouth temporarily. "Norm, don't!"
Still holding her firmly, he was blithely forcing down her pink panties with his other hand. Irene's sleekly molded nude hind cheeks came into view, and Norm's hand returned from disposing of the panties to pat, fondle, and caress his ex-wife's bare bottom. "You ain't got the quantity, sugar," Norm assured her earnestly, "but you sure as hell got the quality."
"You pull-my panties up!" Irene panted, switching her hips from side to side in a vain effort to avoid the palpating hand. "D'you hear me, Norm Blanchard? You pull them-up! Ohh!"
The high-pitched squeal was wrung from her as Norm's hand darted from her soft bare globes around in front where he slipped it in between her naked thighs with their bronze-red tufted curls clustered at the juncture. Jessie stared with mingled emotions as her friend's shapely behind churned and vibrated in its reaction to what Norm's hand was doing in front.
Norman unzipped himself suddenly and produced an enormous erection which prodded Irene's round belly. "Ooooooh!" she gasped in embarrassment. "You put that-away! Ohhhh!" The exclamation was wrung from her when Norm pushed his stiff-standing pole downward and lodged it at Jessie's thigh-juncture where it sprang upward again so forcibly it appeared to be lifting Irene onto tiptoe.
Norm glanced at Jessie, who was still watching avidly, her feelings a mixture of sympathy for Irene's discomfiture and acute arousal at witnessing Norm's deliberate subjugation of his ex-wife. Norm picked Irene up bodily and stood there with his heavy-looking penis projecting strongly from his loins. Irene's soft buttocks were cushioned by Norm's supporting arm. "C'mon in an' watch the show," he invited Jessie with a sardonic smile on his handsome face. "No admission charge." He carried Irene into her bedroom.
Jessie stood in the apartment's sitting room, listening to the scuffling sounds emerging from the bedroom. "Don't-you dare -undress me!" she heard Irene's muffled protest. "Oooooh! Norm! That's mean! Don't tease-me like that!"
Jessie felt so warm she shed her robe as she tiptoed to the bedroom doorway. She stood there, half-ashamed, half-defiant, her quickened blood thudding in her ears. Norm had reduced Irene to bra and stockings, and Irene's slender nudity glistened whitely as she struggled ineffectually against her disrobing. Her back was to Jessie as Norm held his ex-wife across his lap, bottom up. Norm had removed his trousers and shorts and was rubbing Irene slowly back and forth over the big prick protruding upward into her belly.
For two or three moments he kept it up, his free hand massaging Irene's twin hemispheres, squeezing the softly pliant mounds while his meaty penis prodded her underneath. Then he turned Irene onto her back, parted her legs, and doubled them back upon her chest. Jessie stared with a sharp pang of embarrassment but an additional surge of excitement at the obscenely revealed bottom slopes of Irene's upraised behind with her sex-triangle tautly exposed.
Irene lay beneath Norm, shudders rippling through her exposed body as Norm dragged his beefy cock back and forth over her upturned pussy. She had forgotten Jessie, forgotten everything but the sensation she yearned for so hotly, that of the mighty prick being slowly inserted into her twitchingly hot cunt where it would ravage her fiercely while she loved every second of it.
Norm parted the thick curls of Irene's pussy-hair with a probing finger and moved it gently into her soft-lipped cunt while the tip of his thumb ranged below and lightly tickled the rubbery tissue of Irene's anus. Irene panted aloud, raising her hips from the bed slightly in an attempt to get more of the finger inside her. The finger slithered deeper, widening her moist inner-walls, and the thumb probed painfully, her sexual excitement permitting her to endure it.
With forefinger and thumb implanted in her orifices and Norm's hand spanning the distance between, Irene began rotating her hips slowly, then pressing down upon thumb and finger, delicious sensations enveloping her exposed flesh. She felt the trembling onslaught of a tiny orgasm, preliminary to the mighty one she knew she would have when Norm shoved his ram-roddy cock into her and fucked her as only he could.
Norm lowered himself until he could trail his lips over Irene's nude stomach, then lowered himself again while he kissed and bit her inner thighs until Irene moaned with pleasure. He spread her cuntal lips with his fingers and darted his hard tongue into the softly hair-lined pinkness of her vagina. He searched out the clitoris and moved it back and forth with the tip of his tongue while Irene's bare hips climbed wildly and her hands clawed at herself.
Norm shoved his tongue deeply inside her fresh-smelling pussy-hole, causing her to buck upward. Then he stopped abruptly and crawled up on top of her, his fleshy pole dragging over her thighs and fleecy mound. Half crazy with desire, Irene pulled his face down to hers and sucked at his tongue, then bit his lips. "Fuck me!" she said thickly. She was in almost a frenzy of heat. "Fuck me, Norm! Oh, please!" She grabbed for his lean-looking hairy buttocks and tried to pull him into her.
Still not inserted, the prickhead dribbled secreting seminal fluid over Irene's straining stomach. She groaned as she felt him change position again and the broad, rubbery head of the huge cock touched her delicate but eager cunt. She tried to pull her thighs back more tightly upon her chest to expose more of herself to the advancing monster. "Ohhhh, Norm!" she wailed. "Please hurry!"
She caught her breath sharply as she felt the pulsating cock-head parting her pussy-lips and sliding wetly into her cranny. Norm was doing it slowly, and she wanted it all; she surged upward beneath him in an effort to capture all of the fleshy rod inside her exhilarated cunt. Then there was the crammed bigness of him fully inside her, the head of his prick nudging her cervix hard. She ground herself against him and came almost immediately in sudden, jolting, wrenching explosions, her orgiastic secretions bursting out against him, flowing around the head of the large prick that was now beginning to piston in and out of her. "Ohhhh, lovely, lovely, lovely!" Irene sighed deeply.
Norm paused momentarily until Irene's contracting cunt-walls throbbed to a halt, whereupon he began to move again. Slowly at first, in and out, until the sensations caused by his hard prick rubbing against her vaginal walls excited Irene again. She responded once more, in unison with the pistoning prick, her fingers digging into his buttocks, slamming up into him with all her might and slapping into the flesh of his hard stomach with her own.
Jessie remained in the doorway, dry-mouthed, watching as the hammerlike rhythm of Norm's fucking projected his glistening pole between the pink flanges of Irene's cloister. The hair-lined tightness of the soft protective folds of flesh around her cunt were drawn back by each outstroke and then immediately pushed in again. Jessie stood and wished desperately for the feel of Milton King's big cock as she had experienced it that afternoon. Her pussy was a yearning cavern of hot desire.
Mesmerized, she watched the plunging prick sinking wet and deep into the tight-clasping lips. Beneath Norm, Irene yelped and squealed and squeaked as the stalwart rod impaled her solidly. Norm raised his head and began a flurry of short quick strokes. "Wait!" Irene cried, sensing his approaching orgasm. "Wait for me!"
The quick-trembling contractions of her sheath-walls began again as Norm growled in her ear and slammed maniacally into her. "Ohhh, God!" Irene shrieked. She moaned lengthily as the cock embedded in her, still hard as ever, jetted thick, warm juice into her yeasty depths. Her bottom writhed in ecstasy as the dual orgasm wrenched them together. "Ohh, Norm! You're-doing it! Ohhhhhhhh! What a gorgeous-fuck! Ahhhhhhhh! You're making me -come! Aieeee! There it-is! I'm-oooh!- coming! Norm! I'm-COMING! OHHHhhhh!!"
Her voice subsided as her trembling legs relaxed. Irene rubbed Norm's back and fingered his hair. She eased her thighs which had been cramped for so long but in such a good cause. Eyes closed, she savored the depths of every minute sensation, her belly filled with the warm wet tribute of Norm's discharge. He started to withdraw from her, and she opened her eyes. His prick slipped moistly from her clinging cunt with a sucking sound, and he raised himself slightly and placed it on her stomach where it drizzled on her. He lay on top of it, on top of her, then moved his hands under her head and kissed her lazily. "You're not a bad fuck for an amateur, old lady," he told her with a smile.
Irene pulled his ears, then turned her head and discovered Jessie still lingering in the doorway. For an instant Irene felt nothing, immersed as she was in the aftermath of a most satisfactory screwing, but then she felt first a tinge of alarm and then annoyance. She hadn't intended that the situation should get so far out of hand. She had few if any secrets from Jessie, but she certainly hadn't intended to afford her the spectacle of herself being openly fucked by her ex-husband.
Norm rolled off her with a grunt and turned in Jessie's direction. "Well, y' see how it's done, cutie pie? Jus' put it in overdrive an' let it go." He glanced at Irene, who had rolled protectively onto her stomach, and again at Jessie. He raised his limp-looking cock, shiny with his and Irene's combined spend, and waved it at Jessie. "Y' want a taste?"
Jessie's tongue moistened her dry lips. I should get out of here, she told herself, but she was afraid her trembling legs would refuse to support her. The sight of Norm fucking Irene had aroused her to fever pitch. She knew that the crotch of her panties was wet.
Norm glanced calculatingly at Irene, whose stomach-down position was designed to conceal her bronze-haired wet pussy. "C'mon," he said coaxingly to Jessie. "I'll dip my wick in your candleholder. You'll love it."
He looked again at Irene, sensed suddenly that she wasn't going to object, and slid from the bed to advance purposefully upon Jessie, who turned to flee. Norm pursued her into the sitting room, where he captured her with a triumphant shout and carried her back into the bedroom. "Stop it!" Jessie squalled, kicking and struggling. "What do you think-you're doing?" She kicked unavailingly as Norm's hand slid up under her gown and fondled her damp crotch. "Norm!"
"Wet as Noah's ark," Norm informed the watching Irene. He turned back Jessie's gown and examined the damp hairs on her crotch. In unbridled license he ripped her gown away while Jessie whirled frantically onto her stomach. Norm slapped her wide-bottomed exposure gloatingly. "Jesus H. Christ, the ass of all the world!" he exclaimed jubilantly. "If I was you, Irene, I'd eat breakfast off that every mornin'!"
Confident now that Irene wasn't going to intervene, Norm prepared elatedly to exploit his good fortune. He tumbled Jessie onto her back and highspiritedly moved in between her frantically writhing long legs. "Come to papa, baby!" he said debonairly, running his palm over Jessie's silken-thatched crotch. "Let's give this little mousetrap a real workout!" he continued gleefully.
A betraying hot spasm wrenched Jessie's interior at the feel of the masculine hand on her sex-crypt. She should bite and kick and scratch, she told herself, but Norm's forefinger had entered her grotto and was briskly frigging it. "Irene!" Jessie wailed despairingly. Irene was her last hope with her own flesh betraying her, but for reasons of her own Irene remained silent, watching almost dispassionately as her ex-husband lovingly played with her best friend's sprawled, ample nudity.
Jessie flinched at the sudden touch of Norm's re-aroused big cock against her bare thigh. Her breath whistled in her throat as the cock pressed lightly against the pussylips moistened by Norm's expert frigging. "Ohhhhhhhhhhh!" she moaned, her face scarlet from the intensity of her shamed excitement. "Oooooh, my!" she whimpered as the hard rod pushed its way inside her and began to lunge forward into her bower-depths. "Oooooooooh!"
Irene watched soberly as Norm's lengthy pole disappeared inside Jessie's mossy furrow. When Norm made his first tentative move toward Jessie, expecting her to interfere, she had made up her mind not to come to Jessie's aid. She still felt a bit piqued at Jessie's avidly greedy observation of her own sex-involvement, and she felt this was the quickest way of restoring their domestic situation to its former harmonious balance.
She cleared her throat and spoke softly. "Give her a good one, Norm," she said.
"You'd better believe it," Norm rasped as his hips began a quick pistoning movement that rolled Jessie's eyes back in her head as her quivering cunt absorbed the initial fiery strokes of a thunderous poking.
CHAPTER FIVE
Norm wasted little time.
He picked Jessie up with surprising strength and sat her down on his crotch with her thighs straddling his own hairy ones. Jessie shivered as she felt his renewed erection prodding her sex-slit along its entire length, rubbing against it in a tantalizing manner.
Norm seized her waist, elevating her until the big cock, freed of Jessie's weight, rose until its rubbery purplish head probed at her cunt-hole. He lowered her carefully while the rigid prick pierced her slot and gradually filled her belly until Jessie was sitting astride Norm's thighs again with the whole of his erection contained within her flaming cunt. She had never felt so filled, even with Milton.
She couldn't restrain the passionate shudders quaking her soft flesh. The tiniest movement magnified tremendously the feel of the huge pole tickling the most minute crevices inside her tingling pussy. Jessie leaned forward until her large breasts were dangling above Norm's face. He nipped at them immediately with sharp teeth whose bite she found painful but exhilarating. He sucked on her nipples while she nearly went wild.
Her new position elevated and widened her white buttocks until she felt embarrassingly exposed. With her thighs outside Norm's, her hind cheeks were spread so widely she could feel the cooler air of the bedroom on perspiration-dampened inner surfaces. Irene curled up on the bed in a foetus-like position, her hands clasping her knees, her eyes glued to Jessie's buttock-crevice now exposed to show her brown anal orifice and wisps of dark hair in the depths of her split. A slow shiver ran through Irene as she stared at the root of Norm's cock standing stiffly as its shaft disappeared from view inside Jessie's stretched vaginal membrane.
Norm deliberately folded his hands behind his head when Jessie raised herself slightly to remove her free-swinging breasts from within reach of his mouth. "Go ahead, baby," he urged her with a coarse laugh. "You're in the saddle. Fuck yourself to death. You've got more cock in you now than you thought there was in the world."
Jessie was so hot even the masculine taunts failed to turn her off. She lifted herself up on the sustaining prick, then slowly slid down its length. She did it again and again, eyes closed as she reveled in the tactile sensations assailing her crammed pussy. Norm's expression gradually changed as Jessie continued her slow, graceful movements. The corners of his mouth tensed as her tight cunt-walls compressed the long cylinder of his cock. After every third or fourth descent of the slippery pole Jessie would contract her vaginal muscles until her cunt grabbed at the invading prick, and Norm's thighs tensed.
Jessie rested for a moment with the big wedge inside her and Norm's hairy balls caressing her tender inner flesh. Then with an agility that surprised herself she began to move her cunt rapidly up and down the length of Norm's long, solid shaft. Her breasts danced wildly as she levered herself up and down in a semi-delirium of delight, the newfound pleasure permeating the very core of her being.
But impatience gripped her to complete the slow stirring she felt in her inner juices. She reached down and took hold of Norm's hands, removing them from their clasped position behind his head and settling them upon her waist. Immediately they gripped her there, strongly, rising and falling as they assisted with her rising and falling movement on the hot spear plunged into her. Jessie's riding style became more frenzied, and her upturned nude hind cheeks gyrated madly until she came suddenly in a stomach-contracting, wrenching inner explosion that inundated Norm's cock-head in wet warmth. Jessie's movements slowly died away to little quivering grabs of her satiated cunt at the beefy intruder still present.
Norm tensed his muscles, dug his heels into the bed, and in quick movement flipped Jessie over until their positions were reversed. Jessie squeaked in surprise as he accomplished it without dislodging her deeply rooted passenger. Norm reached beneath Jessie and seized her ass-cheeks roughly digging his fingers into their sleek surfaces as he began to fuck her earnestly from on top, the hot-feeling, hard cock trapped within her frictioning her until her legs climbed involuntarily and her thighs curled over Norm's hardworking back.
Norm plunged upon her furiously, grinding inward until their body hairs rasped. Jessie's flesh suddenly ignited again, and she strained him to her as the savage prick fucked her deliciously. She met his every slamming movement with enthusiastic relish of her own, thrusting upward with her hips to encase to the very root the hard-pistoning cock, sucking it inside her when he ground deeply.
Then her back stiffened as it was there for her again and her heels shot ceilingward. "Norm!" she squealed. "Ohhhhhh, Norm! I'm-oooooh! -coming again! Aieeeeeee! Ohhh... God... that... feels... good!" She continued to pump her ass frantically until she felt his quick-flurried convulsion atop her, and for a single lovely moment they were one and frenzied with each other. The pounding and plunging ceased as Norm spewed his sperm into Jessie's straining chasm, and she lay back on the bed with an all-encompassing feeling of warmth spreading through her.
Irene was already moving when Norm slid off Jessie's pink-stained belly with a satisfied grunt. Quickly she swung a leg over Jessie's prostrate figure and straddled her with her head at Jessie's middle. Irene lowered her head and licked delicately at the reddened, oozing lips of Jessie's well-used-looking, slack-lipped pussy, then plunged her whole mouth down upon it, tonguing and sucking. Jessie's legs rose from the bed again to elevate her quim for the probing mouth as she reached upward and pulled Irene's delicately-shaped bare behind down over her own face. Jessie immediately began to suck at Irene's bronze-haired twat pressed down upon Jessie's mouth.
Norm Blanchard sat on the edge of the bed and watched the quick-darting tongues at work upon the soft female orifices. "Jesus!" he said softly. "Jesus, Jesus, Jesus." He shook his head wonderingly as he studied his ex-wife and her best girl friend as both tongued his leavings from each other's bright-flowering quims. "Let the world come to an end right now."
He moved closer to the beautifully fleshy female tangle on the bed and gently patted in turn each bare behind as Jessie's upthrust legs made hers almost as accessible as Irene's fully exposed nude hindquarters.
Engrossed in their mutually enjoyable occupation, neither girl appeared to feel the masculine hand upon her tender rump, and Norm sat back again to feast his eyes upon the Byzantine two-backed-beast cavorting sensually upon the bed.
Blanchard, he said to himself, you never had it so good.
Wayne Evans ran up the last few steps to his tiny, second-floor apartment when he heard the telephone ringing inside. His key opened the door and he darted inside without closing it as he picked up the phone receiver from the hall table. "Yes?" he said, breathing hard from his sprint.
"Oh, I'm so glad I caught you, Wayne," an unfamiliar female voice said. "I was afraid I'd missed you."
"Yes?" Wayne said again cautiously. He couldn't recognize his caller's voice at all. Jessie? No, it certainly wasn't Jessie calling him, although he wished it was. Then who-?
"This is Dolly King, Wayne." He took a quick breath. Dolly King! He listened half-apprehensively, half-intriguedly to her birdlike sound. "Milton is working in town tonight, Wayne," his boss' wife continued. "Why don't you come out to the house for a while?"
Wayne's immediate impulse was to bang up the receiver, but you could hardly do that to your boss' wife, could you? Dolly sounded sober, too, in contrast to the other evening. And it was flattering that she wanted to see him again, but still- "Are you afraid of me, Wayne?" Dolly's soft query nudged at his silence.
"I'm not afraid of you," he gulped, "but I'm sure as hell afraid of what might happen if-if he caught us." He couldn't even bring himself to mention Milton's name.
"I'm the one who should be afraid of that, Wayne, but I still want you to come." The soft voice burned in his ear. "We'd really have fun Can't you think of some games you'd like to play?" The insinuating voice was affecting Wayne so that he could feel his cock stiffening inside his trousers. "Some lovely, lovely games?"
"Where is Milton tonight?" Wayne demanded with a sudden surge of courage.
Dolly's soft voice hardened in anger. "Tonight is his night with one of his little pullets from the bank at his place in town," she said. "We'll be undisturbed." The last was said in such an insinuating tone that Wayne felt the short hair prickling on his arms.
"I'll-I'll be right out," he made up his mind.
"You won't be sorry, Wayne," the insinuating voice promised, and goose bumps prickled his flesh. "You won't be a bit sorry. I'll be expecting you. Use the side door."
The connection was gone, and Wayne replaced the receiver slowly. Did he really dare? If Milton ever found out-but the thought of Dolly's tiny-waisted, large-bosomed, wide-hipped attractions was irresistible. Wayne drew a deep breath, left the apartment, clattered down the stairs to the street, and got into his car.
During the drive to Milton's spaciously attractive home. Wayne had a hardon all the way. Still cautious, he parked a block away and walked to the house, not using the crushed stone driveway or fieldstone walk but crossing the wide lawn under cover of its tall elm trees. The side door was an inch ajar, and Wayne slipped inside without knocking.
Dolly's delicate perfume immediately assailed his nostrils, and then she was enfolding him in her soft arms. "I'm so pleased you could come, dear," she whispered in his ear after kissing him gently. "You're really a dear boy."
He was relieved to find her as sober as she had sounded on the telephone. She led him inside to the library, which was the first room leading off the side-door entrance. Dolly turned around with her face turned up, mutely begging for a return kiss, and Wayne responded ardently, thrilled by the abundance of female flesh tightly clasped within his arms.
Dolly reached down slowly and fondled the bulge she could feel against her thigh through Wayne's trousers. He felt as if he would burst at her caressing touch. Dolly was in a pale yellow negligee, and he could feel that she had little if anything on beneath it. Her soft lips nibbled at Wayne's while her hand continued to cherish and cuddle his protruding erection.
Growing bolder, she unzipped him and plunged her hand inside. Quickly she freed the straining prisoner from his shorts and brought it out into the open. She stared down for an instant at the red-eyed, blunt-headed, blue-veined thick rod in her hand, then dropped to her knees and ran her lips lovingly along its rigid length. Wayne's toes curled inside his shoes and for a desperate instant he was afraid he was going to shoot his load right then and there, but he forced himself to relax while Dolly's warm mouth loved his fit-to-bursting cock.
"It's beautiful," Dolly whispered, backing away at last. She reached down and untied Wayne's shoes, taking each off in turn as he lifted his feet. Still on her knees, she unbelted and lowered his trousers and tugged down his shorts. She turned him around while he was stepping out of them and pressed a warm kiss upon each of his lean buttocks. Wayne felt both embarrassed and proud.
Dolly neatly folded each of Wayne's items of clothing as he removed them, placing them on a leather-covered chaise longue. She twisted herself gently out of Wayne's arms as, naked, he reached for her again. "Let's go upstairs," she proposed. "I want you to fuck me right on my own bed."
The sound of the word from the soft lips exited Wayne still more. Obediently he padded after Dolly's negligeed figure to the front of the house and followed her up the carpeted stairs, feasting his eyes upon her sleek-looking hips moving attractively under the thin stuff of her negligee. In the bedroom she turned around and confronted him, a haze of lascivious longing in her eyes. "Do whatever you want, Wayne," she said huskily, "but please don't wait too long before you fuck me. I'm starved for it."
Wayne's hands were trembling as he unfastened the neck-tie of the negligee. He stripped it from Dolly's softly rounded shoulders and found that she was indeed nude beneath it. He cast the negligee aside and caught her to him, her ruby-tipped big breasts folding into his chest and her plumply rounded belly rubbing against his own increasing excitement. "I want to fuck you first of all," he said thickly, groping at her blonde-maned thigh-juncture and slipping a finger into her pink-lipped slit. Dolly shuddered violently and backed toward the bed, drawing Wayne with her.
She sat down on the edge of the bed, and Wayne at once tipped her onto her smooth-ivory back. Dolly placidly accepted his widespread disposition of her fleshy thighs and plump calves as he crawled in between her parted legs. The blonde fleece of her pubic-thatch covered without concealing the salmon-pink long fissure turned up for his avid inspection. He rubbed a finger along its length, then leaned forward and did the same with his prick while Dolly's perfumed sighs sounded in the bedroom.
He was too aroused for foreplay. He parted Dolly's pouting pink lips with his thumbs and presented his palpating prick-head to the reddened inner flesh, already moist. His balls felt as if they would burst. He leaned forward and thrust with his hips as his teeming erection inched forward into his boss' wife's hotbox. He advanced with a series of jerks that had Dolly's breath hissing wildly before he bumped bellies with her again when he had her stuffed to the hilt of his thick lance.
Wayne had just taken his first soul-satisfying deep plunge into the deliciously clasping proffered cunt when they both heard the sound of the front door slamming on the floor below. "Dolly!" Milton King's voice was raised immediately. "Dolly! Where the hell are you!" Frozen in an obscene coupling, Wayne and Dolly listened to pounding feet on the stairs.
Wayne's hard erection shriveled instantaneously. He pulled out of Dolly with a convulsive jerk and faced the open doorway, panic-stricken, his heart pounding. "Get into the closet!" Dolly hissed at him, pushing him off the bed. "Hide!"
Wayne stumbled toward the indicated closet, jerked the door open, and half-fell inside. Dolly's hanging dresses tickled his bare flesh into a near-laugh of hysteria which he barely gulped down. Before he could close the door completely he heard the sound of his boss entering the bedroom.
"Well!" he heard Milton's voice rap. "What the hell are you doing lolling around bareass?"
"N-nothing," Dolly faltered.
"Nothing? What the hell do you mean, nothing?" The closet door was open sufficiently for Wayne to see Milton King standing beside the bed on which his wife was sprawled in nude abandon. Milton's hand shot downward and fumbled at his wife's blonde body-fleece. "Nothing?" he repeated, his voice rising. "Then what are you doing with a wet deck if you've been doing nothing?"
"It's because-I mean-well, it's because-" Dolly's voice stumbled as she searched for a rationale, "-well, if you must know I was playing with myself because I never get anything from you nowadays!" Honest indignation lent her tone verisimilitude, and in the closet Wayne breathed more easily.
"I ought to take my belt to you!" Milton said between his teeth. Then his voice changed. "Not getting anything from me nowadays, humm? Well, get your ass up from there and we'll see what we can do about that."
Dolly crouched on the bed fearfully, the tip of her pink tongue circling her dry lips. "What -what are you going to do, Milton?" she asked timidly.
"Give you a little something," he said savagely, unbuckling and unzipping his trousers and taking them off. "Get your big bare ass over the end of the bed."
"Ooooo, no!" Dolly wailed. "Not like that, Milton! Please, not like that!"
"Shut up and do what I say!" he commanded. He stripped except for his undershirt, and Wayne stared in disbelief at the erective large penis he had never known his boss possessed. Dolly shuffled herself off the bed, moaning softly. Meekly she went to the foot of the bed, carrying a pillow with her. She draped the pillow on its long axis over the bed's end, then doubled herself up over it with her face on the bed and her dazzlingly white-fleshed broad-beamed buttocks plumped out firmly.
Wayne stared as Milton went to the boudoir table and picked up a jar. He approached his wife, dipped his fingers into the jar again, spread Dolly's resiliency pliant hind cheeks, and began slathering lubricant in her buttock crevice. Dolly was moaning again when the wide-eyed Wayne realized suddenly that it was his wife's anus that Milton King was lubricating.
"Noooooo!" Dolly pleaded as a finger forced a painful entry inside her tight asshole and spread lubricant. "You know how it h-hurts me, Milton!"
"Shut up!" he snapped. "And don't move your ass while I'm buggering it until I tell you to move it!"
He recapped the jar and tossed it onto the bed, then moved in behind Dolly. Wayne knew he should be tiptoeing to the door while Milton's back was three-quarters turned, but sheer fascinated curiosity had him riveted to the spot. Milton gripped the cheeks of his wife's croup and spread them widely. Dolly gasped aloud as she felt the head of the big cock nudge against her deep furrow. The gasp turned to a muted "Ouch!" as her husband forcibly directed his prick-head against her anus.
Milton's thighs stiffened as he drove into his wife's asshole, and Dolly cried out in pain. Her wide-parted legs dangled limply as her stomach supported her entire weight, leaving her unguarded pink rosebud at the mercy of her ravager. Standing between her legs, Milton sought for a prick-hold in the constricted arena while Dolly bawled her distress aloud.
Her whole body trembled as her husband inexorably jammed his big cock into her lubricated anus. Push by push he shoved it in farther, plunging its burning tip into the tight little hole. Deeper, deeper, he drove his prick in until it was halfway up her mercilessly distended asshole. Dolly shrieked as Milton plunged harder, set on fire by the feel of her contracted mucous artery constricting his turgid cock.
Tremendously excited by the feel of his prick up his wife's ass, and stimulated still more by her pitiful yells, Milton slammed his cock all the way in, all the way up that narrow writhing passage. He could feel the hard hotness of his penis burrowing into the softer hotness of Dolly's excrement. He rested a moment, his heavy, hairy balls jammed tightly against her distended ass.
Dolly's outcries had ceased, but her breathing was raspingly spasmodic. Milton drew himself backward, pulling his randy tool halfway out of her slowly gyrating ass. "Lie still!" he warned.
Dolly at once became motionless. Milton drew his cock out still further until only its tip was concealed. He looked down at the long, blood-gorged tool spearing the tender white flesh. Then he arched himself over Dolly with his hands on her waist and began to rhythmically fuck her asshole. With maniacal force he pumped his penis in and out, in and out, pushing, shoving, and grinding it into Dolly's buttery-feeling rectum.
Standing in the closet, trying to make himself steal from the bedroom Wayne noticed at once that Dolly's reaction to the steely rod deep in her bowels was entirely different. All tension had left her and her flaccid thighs and large alabaster-white springy nude backside, only partly concealed by Milton's hard-plunging hips, jiggled gently from the force of his fucking of her rectum.
Milton felt the tight-clasping sphincter begin to draw his sperm from his balls, and he redoubled his efforts. His cock began to jerk inside Dolly, and he came up on his toes, his legs stiff as he experienced all the jetting sweetness and half-pain of a tremendous orgasm. The hot thick liquid jet of sperm streamed out of his trembling prick, soaking the innermost part of Dolly's bowels. A long tremor went through him, and he rested on top of her.
But Wayne saw at once that Dolly was moving. Her big behind was thrust upward and backward as much as she could manage in an effort to further engulf the diminishing prick still lodged in her asshole. Strange little cooing sounds issued from her lips, and the pillow moved back and forth on the bedstead from her stomach's frictioning of it. Milton straightened up suddenly and pulled his limp cock out of her. It emerged with a popping sound. Milton slapped a bare hind cheek in friendly fashion as Dolly began to straighten up with an effort.
"Did you come?" Milton asked her.
"You know I can't come like that," Dolly said, not complaining but stating a fact. "I just wish you wouldn't get so mad when you decide to do it to me like that, Milton. You scare me."
"A little scare is good for any female," he said airily. "That and an occasional well-welted ass. Like you've had a couple of times when I got tired of your eternal nipping at the bottle. You don't feel so much like drinking after one of those sessions, do you?"
"No, Milton," she said meekly.
"Okay. Come on and finish your job. Suck me off." Dolly hesitated, and Milton stared at her impatiently. "Come on. You know you like the taste of your own shit. Suck this little jobbie up and I'll make you come till you think you're standing on your head."
Dolly knelt down in front of him reluctantly, but with no further ado took his shriveled, brownish penis in her mouth. Wayne watched avidly until he saw that she actually was sucking it, cleaning it completely with her tongue, lips, and mouth. He could hardly believe what he was seeing, but one overwhelming emotion possessed him now: he had to get out of that house.
Milton's back was almost toward the closet. Wayne dared wait no longer in case his boss changed position. He tiptoed from the closet and headed for the door. Dolly saw him and flinched, embarrassed to tears by his observation of her humiliating position, but Milton thought her startled jerk a natural reaction to the hardening of his cock in her soft mouth. "Get up on the bed and I'll give your fat cunt a good stabbing," Wayne heard Milton say as Wayne fled down the hallway and the carpeted stairway. He rushed through the deserted ground floor to the library and his clothing. He didn't bother with underwear; he pulled on pants, shirt, and shoes, and carrying the rest, moved to the side door. He let himself out into the night, fragrantly cool after the steamy atmosphere of Dolly's bedroom, and headed across the lawn to his car parked a block away.
Smartest thing I did all day, he thought to himself, parking the car a block away. If Milton had come home and found it in the driveway...
Only when he was sitting under the wheel did he begin to relax. He sat with his hands on the wheel, thinking over what he had seen. Despite Dolly's initial distress, it was obvious it wasn't the first time her asshole had been ravished by her husband's long cock. And that business of liking to taste her own shit on Milton's prick- wasn't that fantastic? And she was certainly a good fuck in the orthodox manner, too.
He drove off finally, shaking his head. It had been a close call, and he had been lucky. There'd be no more of that. He had too much to lose. He could hardly expect to be that lucky again. At the apartment he undressed and showered, opened the refrigerator, and took out a can of beer. He was just about to pull the ring-seal when his telephone rang. He detoured to the hallway and picked up his phone. "Yes?" he said.
"I thought I'd catch you there," Dolly's voice said. "Why don't you come back?"
"You're out of your mind," Wayne said, amazed to hear her voice as much as her suggestion. "Is-is Milton-ah-finished?"
"For two months, probably," Dolly said bitterly. "That's why I want you to come back. I only came once with him, and I've got about fifty stored up."
"No," Wayne said flatly. "It's too risky."
"He's gone back to town, Wayne."
"I don't care where he's gone. I'm still not over the shock."
"Tomorrow night, then?"
"No."
Anger flared suddenly in Dolly's ordinarily soft voice. "You're not going to run out on me, understand? You'll come out here when I want you or I'll tell Milton the whole story. All I'll get out of it is a whipped ass, which I get from him anyway, but how about you, Mr. Chicken-Livered Man?" Her voice was slurred, and Wayne realized she'd had a couple of quick drinks to nerve herself up to talking to him after what he'd seen.
"You wouldn't tell Milton," he said in disbelief.
"Wouldn't I? You be out here tomorrow night or you'll find out."
The connection went dead, and Wayne replaced the receiver slowly. Would she? Hardly. She might talk casually about a whipped ass, but when it came right down to inviting such treatment she wouldn't do it. Would she? If she was drinking, perhaps, and feeling especially sorry for herself? Wayne's palms felt damp.
He needed advice. He needed to talk to someone. Jessie? Could he face Jessie's cool good looks and tell her his story? But he felt he needed a woman's viewpoint, a female reaction which might make clear to him the extent of Dolly's danger to his job. He replaced the can of beer in the refrigerator unopened and went downstairs to his car.
He drove to the apartment shared by Jessie and Irene, still wondering if he could nerve himself up to tell Jessie the story. If he hadn't been so damn anxious about losing his job he knew he could never have told her. Some of what he'd seen was still almost unbelievable even to him.
Irene opened the apartment door to him, and Wayne felt disappointed. He'd have to wait for her to leave before he could talk frankly to Jessie. "Hi, Irene," he greeted her. "Is Jessie in?"
"No, but she'll be back in a few minutes," Irene said. "Won't you come in?"
Wayne hesitated, but finally complied. With tomorrow night looming up over him, he had to move fast. He went into the living room and sat down. Irene, in housecoat and slippers, followed him. She sat down and picked up a piece of sewing. "How's it going, Wayne?" she asked.
"Oh, so-so," he said cautiously. He liked Irene. Something about her personality-earthiness, for lack of a better word, or frankness, or honesty-had always appealed to him since he'd first met her through Jessie. "How's it going with you?"
"Suprafragimelligorgeous."
He raised an eyebrow. "My, my," he commented. "What's the big plus?"
Irene smiled at him, then winked. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."
"I'm prepared to believe just about anything these days," Wayne sighed.
Irene winked again. There was a boyish quality about Wayne that appealed to her. "You're not old enough for me to tell you." Her eyes came to rest on his shiny, acne-scarred face. "Wayne," she said with her usual directness, "why don't you have something done about your face?"
He would have resented it from anyone else, but not from Irene. For one thing, she was a nurse, with a nurse's practicality. "Some day," he said vaguely. "Right now my mother's in a tight spot on the farm and I'm sending money home."
Irene left her chair and came to Wayne's. Bending down over him, she traced with delicate fingertips the roughened scales of his bete noir. "It could be fixed, you know," she said, returning to her chair. She regarded him across the room. "What are you looking so disturbed about? What I said about your face?"
"No," he answered. "I was-I had a shaking up tonight."
"And wanted to talk to Jessie about it?"
He was startled at her perspicacity. "Well, yes, if she'd listen. No reason she should. It's not a-not a bedtime story." He smiled wryly. "Or maybe it is."
"Tell me," Irene invited. "No charge for advice given."
Wayne wondered why he hadn't thought of it himself. It should certainly be easier to talk to Irene with her nursing background than to Jessie whose cool beauty seemed almost virginal to Wayne at times despite his remembrance of the Sunday afternoon at the ice-pond shack.
"Well-" Wayne hesitated, then hitched his chair closer to Irene's. Stumblingly at first, then in a torrent of words, he related his initial embroilment with Dolly King and the events of that very evening. Irene listened with an amused smile playing around the corners of her attractive mouth. When Wayne finished, she put down her sewing and laughed heartily.
"And now she's blackmailing you to come back?" she asked, wiping her eyes.
"That's right," Wayne said glumly. "But if Milton ever catches me, I'm finished at the bank. What do I do?"
"Counter-blackmail Milton's wife," Irene said at once.
"Counter-?"
"Get something on her with someone other than Milton and yourself," Irene said.
"Yeah, well, but who?"
"It could even be a woman. Dolly King sounds like a type who'd enjoy a romp with a female. Import the female, post yourself with a camera, and voila!"
"I've got the camera, but I don't have the woman," Wayne said ruefully. "Do you know of one?"
"Sure."
"You do?" Wayne asked eagerly.
Irene arched a forefinger until it pointed between her breasts. "Me."
Wayne stared across the room at the piquant redhead in the flowered housecoat.
Had he heard her correctly?
CHAPTER SIX
"You're kidding," Wayne said finally.
"In earnest," Irene replied. "I know Dolly King. I've been with Jessie several times at bank parties when Dolly was there. Three or four years ago there was a minor scandal involving Dolly and a young bank secretary. Jessie said that Milton was furious."
"But why would you get involved?"
"Oh, I don't know," Irene shrugged. "Excitement. Something to do. And then your piteous story has touched the depths of my compassionate nature." She favored Wayne with her gamin grin.
"I can see that it has when you make an offer like that," Wayne said dryly. "But don't say it if you don't mean it. I might really need to do something as far out as that to get the damn woman off my back."
"Service with a smile," Irene said, stretching lazily. Her eyes were once more upon the acne condition marring Wayne's face. "I'll bet I could do something about that myself," she said, speaking her thought aloud. She rose and approached Wayne's chair, bending down over him to examine more closely his shiny-scarred blemishes. Irene had on a wraparound short housecoat, and as she bent over him Wayne's eyes went to the loose-fitting neckline of the housecoat, beneath which a great deal of Irene was visible, principally in the form of pink-nip-pled jutting bubbies. Wayne looked away, then looked back. Irene obviously hadn't a stitch on underneath.
"Come into the bathroom and let me examine you more closely under a boudoir lamp," Irene said to Wayne. "Bring a chair with you from the kitchenette." When Wayne complied, she seated him under the light in the bathroom's cramped quarters and alternately ran her fingertips delicately over the scarified, hardened surface of his face and then tipped the face upward with two fingers under Wayne's chin to get more light on the subject. "Would you let me play witch doctor, Wayne?" Irene asked at last.
He hesitated only momentarily. After all, she was a nurse. "Sure, if you think it'll do any good."
"Then take off your shirt and undershirt," she ordered. "And drape a towel around your neck and shoulders."
Wayne sat down in the chair again after obeying. Irene ran hot water in the basin and began soaking two smaller towels in it. "This will be hot," she said, standing beside Wayne's chair as she wrung a towel and deftly wrapped it around his head and face, leaving only his nose exposed.
"Wow!" Wayne breathed aloud under the towel as the steamy heat assailed him. "You're not kidding it's hot!" His voice emerged as a mumble.
"Sit still," Irene demanded. She waited a moment before removing the towel and Wayne breathed a sigh of relief. Irene immediately wrung out the second towel and wrapped his face again while she set the second towel to soak. For ten minutes she applied alternate hot towels to Wayne's face, twice adding more hot water to the basin. He never did get used to the first instant of the almost scalding application.
"There," Irene said. "Now for a little oil massage to break up the congestion beneath the surface." She opened the medicine cabinet and took out a small bottle of a greenish-looking oily liquid. Quickly she spread some on both her palms, then moved behind Wayne's chair and began to massage his face, reddened from the hot towels. Despite the gentleness of her touch she was able to apply deep pressure without discomfiting Wayne seriously.
Three times Irene renewed the oil upon her palms and expertly laved Wayne's acne-encrusted features. The effect was so soothing that he slumped down in the chair, relaxed. He heard Irene running the hot water again when the massaging hands once more left his face, but he didn't make the connection until another near-scalding towel enveloped his features. The oil seemed to have penetrated deeply, making his face more sensitive, and Wayne's anguished howl coincided with a stiffening upthrust of his legs and a flailing of his hands.
His right hand caught Irene as she was bending over the basin wringing out another towel and disappeared beneath her hiked-up housecoat. "Wayne!" Irene half-shrieked as his reflexively clutching hand closed upon her nude flesh near the juncture of an inner thigh and lower buttock. "Take your hand away from there!"
Distressed though he was by the hot towel parboiling his face, Wayne was still notably reluctant to remove his hand from the female oasis he had so inadvertently discovered. Irene had to slap his hand away. "That's enough of that," she said primly, changing hot towels again. "Even if it was an accident."
"God, you feel good," Wayne mumbled from beneath the towel.
Irene smiled, safe from observation as the towel covered his face. Then the smile died. The feel of the masculine hand had stirred her more than she wanted to admit. Despite her gay intimation to Wayne in response to his question when he first entered the apartment, things weren't as well with her as she had indicated. She had had a tremendous row with Norm after the double episode with him, herself, and Jessie. She had accused Norm of too much aggressiveness in forcing himself upon Jessie.
"Goddamnit, you stage-managed the whole thing!" the angry Norm stormed.
It was true, but perversely Irene felt the need to clear her own skirts. "You planned it all!" she charged.
And the argument continued until Norm stamped out of the apartment in a flaming rage. And he hadn't been back. Twice Irene had been on the verge of calling him to see if peace could be made without lowering herself to admit she wanted-and needed-him, but pride had prevented her. Wayne's blindly groping hand had stirred banked fires.
"That should do it for now," Irene announced after another ten minutes of hot towels. "Don't be alarmed if you get a slight scaling process. Two or three treatments a week should make a world of difference in your appearance."
Wayne had risen from his chair while she was speaking to look at himself in the mirror. Although his face looked softer, the shine was still there. He refrained from mentioning his disappointment that improvement hadn't been immediate. "Thanks, Irene," he said, and he meant it. "It's nice of you to take the trouble."
He picked up his shirt and undershirt and went out into the living room. Irene wiped out the basin and set things to rights in the bathroom before she followed him. "How's the face feel?" she inquired.
"Hot. Burning."
"That's because we got below that first layer of crust."
Still naked to the waist, Wayne approached Irene. With a boldness he wouldn't have possessed before his recent experiences with Dolly King, he slipped a casual arm around Irene's housecoat-enveloped figure while he lowered his flushed face to hers and gave her a long, hard kiss. "Thanks, Irene," he said again softly, then returned his mouth to hers. At the same time his free hand parted the front of the housecoat and roamed lightly over Irene's bare belly before ascending to her perky-nippled breasts.
"Wayne!" Irene murmured, her protestation muffled by the lips pressed to hers. Wayne's tongue parted her lips and surged into her mouth, and Irene's knees felt weak as his hand squeezed and palmed alternate breasts. "Wayne!" she squeaked, as his hand dropped and probed at the bright-red fleece adorning the juncture of her tightly clutched thighs. She tried to twist away, but the hand pursued her as the emboldened Wayne sought to follow up his initial advantage.
Why am I fighting him? Irene asked herself. Norm is mad at me, really mad this time. Wayne seemed awfully young but in truth he was only two years younger than Irene and a year younger than Jessie. Irene caught her breath as Wayne's hand, frustrated at trying to part her clenched bare thighs, swept around behind under the housecoat and grabbed a nude, curving buttock. Wayne used the additional leverage to pull Irene more tightly against himself until she could feel the long bulge inside his trousers pressing against her leg. "Wayne!" she said once again, but weakly. The hand squeezing her naked haunch seemed to be burning itself into her soft flesh.
The emboldened Wayne sensed her weakening resistance and acted upon it. Their swaying struggle had brought them near the screened-off kitchenette. Wayne half-carried the almost quiescent Irene to the formica-topped table, and before she realized his intention spun her around and pressed her down upon it, belly down.
Irene recoiled but couldn't raise herself due to Wayne's hand in the small of her back. "Owwww!" she cried out. "That's cold!"
The eager Wayne paid no attention. He flipped Irene's housecoat up around the back of her neck, then studied the long, smooth slope of her back and the quick flare of her hips, which no longer seemed slender somehow, even when compared to Jessie's lush globes. Deliberately, Wayne stroked the warm, glossy-feeling buttock surfaces before parting the malleable hemispheres to run his finger deeply along Irene's cleft. She squirmed like an eel as the finger tickled her sexual incision and fired her juices. She could feel her labial lips becoming damp as her sheath-walls released sex-moisture, and a hot, deep yearning stirred her vitals. "What do you think-you're doing?" she gasped in obligatory protest.
Wayne unfastened his belt and let his trousers drop around his ankles. He removed his rampant prick from his shorts and laid it between Irene's nude hind cheeks. She quivered all over at the touch, which delighted him. Jessie and Irene always seemed so sophisticated to him that he had always been a bit intimidated in their presence.
Wayne moved his hips back and forth, dragging his meaty cock along Irene's buttock-crevice. She had stopped struggling, and he could hear her heavy breathing. "Inside!" she whispered faintly. "In the bedroom!"
But he had no intention of relinquishing his present advantage. He pushed his erection downward until he could pass it between Irene's parted thighs, through which a wispy glimpse of red-gold hair could be seen. When he released it, his cock jumped up and whacked the redhead lightly between her thighs. "Ohhhhh, no!" Irene whispered as she felt Wayne jockeying for position with the bulbous head of his penis pressing against her vaginal-hole. "Not-like this!"
But again Wayne paid no attention. He bent his knees slightly to attain a better angle as he tried to slip his prickhead into the redhead's warm, moist slot. He lodged the head but then had difficulty advancing farther.
"How big-is that thing of yours?" Irene demanded suddenly. She reached behind her swiftly and took hold of Wayne's thick-stemmed long prong. "Whew! Don't you dare ram me with that thing!" She came up on her toes as Wayne impatiently shoved against the sleek buttocks pressed against his belly. "Take it-easy!"
Her breathing hoarsened as she felt the knobby cockhead thrusting into her labial cranny. She knew what Wayne's problem was, and she never knew whether her next remark was occasioned by fear of damage to herself from his inexpert attempts at penetration or her need to feel that deliciously hard penis straining her whole sex-chasm. "Pick up my ass and slide me back on your prick!" she heard herself saying gutturally.
Wayne heard her even in the depths of his passion. He picked her up from the tabletop by her slender waist and drew her backwards toward himself. His large cock slid into Irene's slot so smoothly and so deeply that he couldn't believe it. He could feel his hairy balls dangling against her thighs. "Ohhhhh, man!" he breathed, and began to fuck the clinging cunt enveloping his turgid prick.
Irene gasped aloud as she felt herself crammed by the hard cock distending her channel. She gasped again when Wayne began to move, his belly spanking her bare behind, and hot sparks flared in her interior. "H-harder!" she whimpered as a quick flame ignited from the sparks. "Harder!" Her entire backside writhed languorously as the big prick plunged between her hind cheeks.
Irene found herself literally drooling as her saliva-filled mouth overflowed and spittle dribbled down her chin. The teasing cock buried in her belly was driving her crazy. "Ohhhhhhh!" Irene caterwauled, all reticence gone. "Fuck me, Wayne! Fuck me!"
The unexpected lewdness stimulated him still more. He slammed mightily into the sleek haunches enveloping the treasure in which he was embedded. Irene's cunt-walls grabbed convulsively at the gristly intruder invading her downy nest, and Wayne almost shot his load prematurely at the sensation all up and down his sturdy whang. He had to back off a moment to relieve the pressure tingling in his balls.
Irene wriggled impatiently, but her voice soared at once when Wayne resumed his pumping. "Ohhhh!" she squealed. "Oooooh! You're tickling my-ooooooh!-clit! You're-I'm- ohhhhhhhh!-I'm-gushing! Ahhhhhhhh! Ooooh! I'm-GUSHING!"
Her buttocks twirled in convulsive abandon for long seconds before she collapsed upon the table limply, a table long since belly-warmed by her heated flesh. Wayne, brought to a rolling boil by her frenzied response to his fucking of her, groaned aloud as his prickhead trembled from the explosive nature of the hot jets of sperm he cascaded into Irene's quivering slot. His knees and thighs quaked from the expenditure of energy he had put into fucking the redhead.
He stepped back finally and had one quick glimpse of Irene's parted thighs, greasy-looking lower bush, and crimsoned cunt-lips as his reddened cock emerged, dripping. Irene immediately clapped both hands behind her as she straightened up shakily. "Don't look!" she muttered, ashamed. "Don't look!" She trotted into the bathroom with her hands still clasped behind her.
Inside, she stared into the mirror at her flushed face. Why had she permitted it? She didn't really care for Wayne, although he was a nice kid. She had had no intention of permitting it, but her traitorous flesh had intervened.
She performed her necessary ablutions quickly and swathed herself in a towel before returning to the living room. She felt she really couldn't face Wayne's self-satisfied smirk at that moment, so she glanced at her watch. "Jessie is due here in seven minutes," she announced. "And I don't want her to find you here. Like this, I mean."
"Neither do I!" Wayne blurted. He had already pulled up his pants; hurriedly he shuffled himself into undershirt and shirt. Ready to leave, he paused to look at the towel-enveloped Irene. "Thanks, Irene," he said softly. "For everything."
His sincerity melted her distaste for herself. After all, she had given pleasure. "Come back and we'll give your face another treatment in a couple of days," she said impulsively. "But only your face," she added in sudden caution. She didn't want this to become a habit, or for Wayne to expect it.
"Thanks," he said again from the door, and blew her a kiss. It was so unexpected from one of his usually phlegmatic temperament that Irene felt touched again.
She stood motionless until the whine of the nearby self-service elevator announced Wayne's descent to the apartment lobby. She shook her head, absentmindedly patting her hair back into place.
She really couldn't understand her quick succumbing to Wayne's awkward, inexperienced attempt upon her. She didn't much like the image it reflected of a female animal nearly out of sexual control. The way she'd run Wayne out of the apartment afterward was almost an admission that she'd used him just for her own satisfaction.
Sighing, Irene set about removing the remaining traces of Wayne's presence before Jessie arrived. She was already late.
Jessie picked up the pay telephone in the bank lobby to which she had been called by one of the guards. She wondered who could be calling her at a pay phone number instead of at her own office phone. "Hello?" she said inquiringly.
"Hi, Jessie," a breezy voice saluted her. "This is Norm Blanchard."
"Oh?" Jessie began questioningly, because Norm Blanchard was so divorced from the bank affairs which were on her mind at the moment, but then realization dawned. "Oh. Norm. Yes. How-how are you?" She was immediately furious at herself for the question. Like Irene, she had already decided that too much had happened in the apartment with Norm Blanchard, and was determined there was to be no repetition of it.
"Great!" the salesman's voice burbled. "An' you?"
"Busy," Jessie said, seizing the opportunity to drive a wedge between herself and the unpleasant familiarity she could sense in the brash voice.
"Only durin' business hours, though," Norm said suggestively. "How about us gettin' together afterward?"
"No," Jessie said coldly.
"You don't mean no," Norm replied. His voice had become softer yet somehow more penetrating at the same time. It made Jessie faintly uneasy. "You're meetin' me tonight after work."
"I'm doing nothing of the sort!" Yet somehow it didn't come out as vigorously as Jessie had intended. Somehow Norm's confident-sounding voice undermined her own confidence. Somehow- And then his tone hardened. "I'll be waitin' when you get out've work, y'hear, Jessie? An' you better not walk past my car if you know what's good for you."
"What-what do you mean?" she asked faintly.
"I mean you're buckin' for a job promotion at the bank, right? How d'you think the guy handin' out the promotions'd like to hear about what happened the other night?"
"You-you wouldn't!"
"The hell I wouldn't," he said flatly. "You get into my car when you see it."
The receiver clicked in Jessie's ear and the line hummed emptily. She was left standing with the pay phone in her hand, her knuckles white from her grip upon it. She hung up the phone shakily. Would Norm Blanchard actually tell about what had happened among himself, Irene, and Jessie?
He can't blackmail you, she tried to tell herself. Let him talk. This isn't 1910. People have relationships these days. But not that kind of relationship, a corner of her mind told her. Not even in today's relaxed society.
She left the lobby and returned to her desk, trying to think. The more she considered it, the more prickly the problem seemed. She wasn't terribly concerned, on the one hand, that Milton King would learn she had participated in a threesome. Milton was a sophisticated man. He might even think it amusing.
But she was concerned about the timing. She didn't want Milton to know until she had the new cashier's position nailed down firmly. Otherwise such information would put her in Milton's power, for him to demand what tribute he chose, and given Milton's sexual subtleties, she could have more of a problem coping with him than the more forthright Norm Blanchard.
No, she didn't want Milton King to know.
And that meant obeying Norm Blanchard's stern-voiced injunction to meet him.
But surely she could de-fang Norm Blanchard? Certainly there was nothing subtle about him! If she just kept cool, and smiling, and promising that next time, perhaps- She was still worrying it around in her mind at closing time. Automatically she checked out the tellers' cash drawers-she had been acting cashier for some time, a factor that increased her resentment that she should have to compete for a job that she was in fact already performing- with one eye on the bank's front window. Sure enough, Norm's sleek demonstrator pulled in to the curb and parked. Regarding it disquietedly, Jessie had to recall herself to the task at hand.
She left the bank ten minutes later, the picture of prim banking rectitude as she crossed the sidewalk rapidly and slid into the passenger side of Norm's car as he opened the door for her. His expression was grim, but Jessie tried for a light touch. "Hi!" she greeted him as the car moved away from the curb. "You almost had me thinking you were threatening me for a while there today."
"I'm not threatenin' you," Norm said heavily. "I'm tellin' you. Play it my way, or else."
Jessie became aware that the car was not following the route to the apartment, and her stomach fluttered. "But why?" she asked plaintively. "I didn't do anything to you."
"I'll tell you why." Norm's tone was as grim as his expression. "Irene's taken her ass out've circulation as far as I'm concerned, so I'm holdin' yours hostage till she changes her mind." He shot a fleeting glance at Jessie. "Simple, isn't it?"
"But that's-that's outrageous-!" Jessie began hotly.
"Outrageous, hell!" Norm cut her off, his voice blaring. "You goddamn women aren't makin' any beanbag out've me. Whatever happened, you both wanted it to happen, right?" He removed his eyes from the road and glared at Jessie, who dropped hers in confusion. "Right? Then don't try to shit me."
The car had left the downtown traffic and was picking up speed. "Where are we going?" Jessie asked faintly.
"To the Calabria Motel," Norm said laconically.
The implication rocked Jessie. "You mean-?"
Once again Norm's hard voice overrode hers. "I mean I'm takin' you to a room I've got there an' I'm gonna fuck your bare ass an' fat cunt all over the motel bed. So whaddya think of that?" He grinned at her sardonically. "An' you'd better believe I'm gonna enjoy it."
"But Norm-" Jessie sought desperately for feminine wiles, then realized suddenly there were none that would be effective with this determined man. But the whole thing was ridiculous! Simply because Irene was punishing herself and attempting to punish Norm for a sudden excess of puritanism that had overtaken her- The car turned into a motel driveway, and Jessie caught her breath. It was broad daylight -suppose she were seen! But Norm wheeled the car around to the back and parked at a motel door hidden from the highway. "Out!" he said curtly.
He was unlocking the motel door while Jessie was climbing shakily from the car. He shepherded her inside with a hard hand on her elbow and a fast whack on her seat. He locked and barred the door from the inside, then surveyed Jessie satisfiedly.
"Norm-" Jessie began a plea that shriveled under his hard-eyed inspection of her charms.
"Clothes off," he said to her, and started to undress himself. He looked at her when she made no move. "I'm assumin' you'd like to have somethin' to wear home? Get it off or I'll rip it off you!"
He was already in his underwear when Jessie removed her dress with trembling hands. This couldn't be happening! Why, it was-it was rape! She struggled with her clinging slip while Norm, naked, surveyed her partly clad curves. When her head was enveloped in the slip, his palm cracked smartingly upon a pantied hind cheek. "Owww!" Jessie yelped, involuntarily rubbing the stinging hind cheek.
"God, you got an ass that won't quit!" Norm said huskily. "I'm gonna take your pants down myself."
Involuntarily Jessie's glance went to the hefty sausage and hairy balls swinging between Norm's legs as he moved closer to her. The roof of her mouth felt dry as Norm turned her around and pulled the snug-fitting, pale blue panties down, exposing her velvety hind cheeks, bare except for the straps of her garter belt. Norm quickly disposed of that, too, and the down-drooping belt slowly pulled her stockings down around her ankles.
"Please!" Jessie whispered as Norm filled his hands with the exposed posterior-cushions, squeezing, kneading, compressing, and forcing them together. Jessie's glistening alabaster-white body curves were elastically malleable in Norm's hard hands, and a betraying sensation of inner warmth loosened the hinges of Jessie's dimpled knees. "Please!" she pleaded again.
Norm paid no attention. He ceased playing with her nude bottom cheeks only long enough to unfasten and remove her bra. Jessie's large breasts with their dark-nippled areolas sprang to attention. Norm's hands encircled them momentarily, and Jessie shivered, but then his hands trailed down over the soft round bowl of her bare belly and dipped into her thatched fleece. "Oooooh!" Jessie breathed shamefacedly.
She could feel his groin against her naked backside, but he had no erection. A finger on each masculine hand was pressing aside the soft flesh of her inner thighs and stroking the pink sex-slit. The soles of Jessie's feet tingled and she gasped aloud as a finger probed inside her rapidly moistening vagina. The finger moved upward inside her flesh and nudged her clitoris. Jessie's knees quivered at the quick flash of sensual relish that enveloped her, but she tried to fight it off. "Norm, stop it!" she protested, but her voice was a quavering sigh.
He tired of the game abruptly. "Onto the bed!" he said brusquely, giving her a little push. Jessie sprawled on her belly, falling over quickly as she felt the bed sag under Norm's weight. On his knees, he stared down at her. Jessie sensed that he was on the verge of violence, and she felt afraid. "Okay," he said. "Get with it."
Jessie looked at his substantial penis still dangling limply. "It's not-it's not hard," she said timidly.
"Then get it hard!" he roared. "Suck it, you bitch! Or would you rather have your big ass blistered?" His face was scarlet.
"No!" Jessie said quickly. This was a side of Norm she'd never seen. She crawled across his thighs and lowered her head toward his slack groin. The hair on his thighs tickled her nipples, and a quick shudder rippled through her soft stomach flesh. Norm's palm came to rest on her upturned bottom, and fearful that he might start to spank her, Jessie reached for the broad-stemmed limp cock and guided it to her lips.
She licked the rubbery, reddish-purple blunt head several times, the strong male odor assailing her nostrils, then ran her tongue along its length, top and bottom. She took it into her mouth and sucked at the head, and almost at once the prick in her warm, saliva-filled mouth began to expand and lengthen. Jessie ovalled her lips and drew on the hardening gristle, mouthing it with little pulling tugs concentrated near the hard coronal ring. Tiny drops of seminal fluid oozed from the slit in the head, tasting salty-sweet upon her tongue.
Norm's hand resting on a bare hind cheek became active. He parted her deep crevice and felt between her lower buttocks for her jewel box, and a hot flash sizzled through Jessie as he manipulated the pouting lips of her fissure. Her lips and mouth pulled harder at the captive prick as a fiery-hot spasm gripped her interior and her cunt-sheath grabbed of its own abandoned volition at Norm's finger penetrating it deeply.
"Hold it!" Norm rasped, pushing her head away from his cock, now stiff-standing and slickly rampant. Jessie was startled to realize that her ruttish heat would have had her brazenly and immodestly swallowing Norm's spend if he had let her have it. "Ohhhh!" she moaned softly at the image of licentiously unchaste, whorishly carnal wantonness she must be presenting.
Norm rolled her onto her back, and she sprawled there, staring up at him with passion-glazed eyes. The feel of the big prick in her mouth had her pussy throbbing as it sensed its imminent stuffing. Her labial lips were swimming in hot juice from Norm's finger-frigging of her, and her nipples were drawn up into erotically tight buds. "Norm!" she panted. "Ooooh, Norm! I'm so-hot! Please, Norm! Put it in! Put it inside me!"
"Not so hoity-toity now, are we?" he declared with satisfaction at the reversal in her attitude toward him. "Does um 'ittle cuntum want big prick to go fuck-fuck?"
"Norm!" Jessie bleated, half out of her mind with dissolute profligacy churning her interior to molten butter. "Yes! Fuck me, Norm! Please fuck me!"
"Happy to oblige," he said sardonically, and dropped down on her belly after widening her legs. Jessie whimpered as the meaty prick dragged itself along her flaming slot before prodding her pussy-hole. Her soft mouth formed a little round "O" of indecent anticipation as Norm slotted her with his stout prong, and she blew out her breath noisily as the saliva-moistened prick glided up her wet channel.
"Ohhhhhhhh!" she burst forth as her tingling cranny was titillated to its farthest reaches by the noble shaft distending it. "Ahhhhhhhhh!" she groaned in hedonistic gratification as Norm's pubic hair merged with her own mossy pelt. "Ooooooh!" she purred in an almost inaudible hushed murmur as Norm began to move atop her rounded belly.
The angle was just right, and from the first plunge of his hips upon her Norm's prick was rubbing her clitoris. Jessie bucked her handsome bare thighs up in the air and tried to engulf in her straining quiver even more of the husky cock pounding it. A broiling, sweltering tropical heat was inflaming her ardently thermal interior. Jessie locked her ankles above Norm's hard-working back and eagerly raised her bellshaped naked hind cheeks on each down-stroke to accept the buffeting they were getting.
"Ohhh!" Jessie gasped. She swallowed hard to recover lost breath. "Norm!" A deep-seated tickle was spreading rapidly all through her well-fucked cunt. "NORM!! Ooooooooh!" Her thighs clutched his hard body convulsively. "Ahhhhhhhhhhh, God!" Her satiny backside rose from the bed and its silky hind cheeks quivered gelatinously as quick spasms wracked Jessie. "Ohhh! Ohhh! Ohhh! I'm-you're-I'm coming!" Her soft bottom heaved tumultuously in the throes of her abandonment to her voluptuous delight. "I'm-COMMMMMMMMMMing!"
Her voice ran down as her orgasm finished. Half-unconscious, she rested impassively beneath Norm as he roared and bucked and shot a thunderous load into her before he relaxed on her stomach with a long groan of relief.
Jessie felt her heated flesh cooling as Norm remained atop her. Uncomfortably sticky trickles of sperm overflowed her hotbox, now less firmly plugged by Norm's weapon, and ran down her flesh. How had this man ensconced on her belly persuaded her to such ruttish abandon? She shied away momentarily from acknowledging that she had welcomed it, but then had to make the difficult-but-honest admission. Instead of acting with a becoming modest diffidence, she had performed like a thoroughly debauched, goatish nymph. Slow tears filled her eyes, overflowed, and trickled down her hot cheeks. She felt totally ashamed.
Norm stirred himself, finally, and pulled out of her with an embarrassing sibilant sound as their flesh broke contact.
CHAPTER SEVEN
"You're not a bad fuck, but you're nothin' like Irene," Norm said casually, staring down at Jessie's wide-sprawled, wet-pussied abandon. Jessie stared back at him, resentful of the comparison. Norm shook his oily-looking cock at her. "C'mere an' suck this off," he ordered.
Her blood cooled, Jessie looked with distaste at his lapsed, reddened prick trailing sticky tendrils of sperm. "I won't do it," she said defiantly. "And you can't make me."
Norm laughed, a hard-sounding laugh with little amusement in it. "Oh, no?" he said, and shuffled on his knees toward her. Jessie tried to escape, but Norm was too quick for her. Before she realized it, he had her pinned to the bed on her back and was forcing his odorous, wet-feeling groin into her face. Jessie flinched as Norm's prickly balls grazed her chin. "Suck it!" he demanded, taking one of her ears in each hand and twisting them cruelly.
"Owwwwww!" Jessie cried out. Tears of pain spurted from her eyes. Norm increased the pressure, and Jessie shrieked her distress. "Owwwwwww! Don't, Norm, please! I'll-"
"You'll suck my prick," Norm said brutally. "Right now."
The unendurable agony in her ears forced Jessie to grope blindly with her soft mouth for the reeking penis thrust into her face. Desperately she pulled it between her lips and began to twirl her tongue around the sticky pipe-organ while Norm continued to savage her excruciatingly aching ears. "Harder!" he ordered, pulling her whole face up into his smelly groin.
Jessie licked and sucked at the lengthening rod while her tears continued to blind her. She moved her head back and forth frantically on the upper half of the glistening prick, tonguing the purplish head and sweeping her tongue along the thick corrugation on its bottom. Her tastebuds rebelled at the combined sensation of her own and Norm's spend-leavings in her throat, but she sucked fervently at the re-aroused cock, pulling at it with compressed lips even while a grimace of distaste mingled with the look of pain on her straining features.
Norm threw her aside, finally, and Jessie collapsed, panting, licking her own lips to remove the taste. Norm's cock was at nearly full mast again, but he climbed from the bed and began to dress. "You don't do that like Irene, either," he informed Jessie. "I should've let you have a prickful in your mouth, but why waste it on a dog like you?" He considered her heaving breasts as Jessie strained for breath. "Get your ass into your pants an' let's get out've here." Ten minutes later they left the motel room.
"You're late," Irene said to Jessie when the latter entered the apartment.
"Yes," Jessie agreed. The burning smart in her ears had degenerated to a dull ache. "Would you like to know why?" Quickly she told Irene about Norm, omitting only that Norm had forced her to french him after he fucked her. "So do me a favor, will you, Irene?" Jessie concluded. "Get Norm off my belly and back onto yours." She hadn't intended it to come out quite that way, but once in the open she wasn't sorry she'd said it. She had enough complications in her life right now without having her security threatened by Irene's ex-husband.
"The sonofabitch! Thinking he can use you to force me to take him back! I'll see him in hell first!" She glared at Jessie suspiciously. "Are you sure you didn't encourage him?"
"Of course I didn't encourage him!" Jessie flared. "I want to get rid of him! You telephone him right now!"
"No!" Irene bugled. "I'll handle this my way! I'll show that big-pricked jerk he can't have his own way with me!"
"But what about me?" Jessie asked plaintively.
"If you need a bodyguard at your age," Irene said stiffly, "I'll meet you at the bank after work and escort you home."
Jessie felt too beaten down from Norm's rough usage to argue further. She went into the bathroom and drew a hot tub, stripped, and soaked luxuriously for twenty minutes before going into her bedroom. She decided to stretch out on the bed just for a moment's rest, and in time her deep, even breathing signaled the sleep of exhaustion.
Irene had afterthoughts during the night. She lay awake in her bedroom with flickering images penetrating the screen of her closed eyelids. Norm with Jessie. She shifted position in the bed impatiently. Norm was trying to make her jealous. Well, she was jealous; she had to admit it. But she wasn't going to let him dictate to her.
On the other hand, she felt guilty about Jessie. It really wasn't fair to make Jessie a pawn in the contest between herself and Norm. She and Jessie had been good friends and had had good times together before the current sex-miasma in which they found themselves involved. Irene had just been making conversation when she said she'd escort Jessie home from the bank to keep Norm away from her, but it might not be a bad idea. At the very least she wouldn't be having these technicolored images of Norm and Jessie together in passionately carnal sensuality.
So when Irene got through work at the hospital the following afternoon, she went directly to the bank. She was both disappointed and apprehensive when a guard told her that Jessie had already left. Had Norm met Jessie again and forced her to accompany him with his threat of blackmail? Suppose Norm actually came to prefer Jessie? An icy little finger probed at Irene's spine. She still wanted Norm, wanted him desperately, but it would be on her own terms. Or could it be that Norm wanted to get rid of her altogether? The icy little finger intensified its pressure.
She started to walk out of the bank lobby, uncertain what to do. She found herself confronted by a dapper, debonair-looking man whom in her distracted frame of mind she recognized only belatedly as Milton King. She had seen him at bank parties to which she had accompanied Jessie.
"Aren't you the charming redhead who is Jessie's apartment-mate?" Milton King asked smoothly. "Don't tell me." He snapped his fingers triumphantly. "Irene! The beautiful Irene!"
"It's nice to see you again, Mr. King," Irene said automatically.
"The name is Milton," Jessie's boss said quickly. "But you look disturbed. Can I be of any assistance?" He gave Irene the full candle-power of his smile, and despite her knowledge of this man's hyperactive sexual activities, Irene felt warmed. He certainly was a charmer.
"Not really," she denied his question. She turned her head slightly, followed by her body, so that Milton King could see her best profile. "I missed Jessie, and I don't know how to find her."
"You can see Jessie any time," Milton reminded her with another dazzling smile. "As a matter of fact, I'm beginning to feel quite disturbed with Jessie for hiding you so successfully." His eyes lingered on the thrust of Irene's well-endowed bosom beneath her attractive suit. "Service with a smile is our motto here at the bank, you know. I wonder if I might buy you a drink to ease the burden of your missing Jessie?"
It was lightly said, and accompanied by a lighthearted smile, but Irene wasn't fooled. Milton King was in earnest, and he wasn't talking about a drink. This was what it was like to be propositioned by an expert, Irene told herself. She wasn't having any, of course, but it still felt delightfully soothing to the ego to be wanted. Especially with Norm acting like he was. Irene had little difficulty in convincing herself that Norm had all but abandoned her.
"You really look as though you could use a drink," Milton said with all the suavity of the accomplished dilettante.
"Well, just one," Irene was surprised to hear herself say.
"Fine," Milton said heartily. "If you'll excuse me for just a moment?"
He left Irene only long enough to lock his desk. He was too skillful to leave her enough time to reconsider what she was getting herself into with him. These things had a momentum of their own, and he was an artist at accelerating it for his own purposes. He escorted Irene through the bank's revolving door, and once on the sidewalk tucked her arm in his. "We'll take a cab to this quiet little place I know," he announced.
The quiet little place would be his apartment, Irene knew as she settled into the back of the cab that stopped at Milton's imperious wave, but she didn't care. Time seemed to have stopped for a moment. She was curious about this man after all she'd heard about him, curious about herself with him. There wasn't any right or wrong about it, she defended herself; it was just a happening, a fleabite in time on the hide of eternity.
Milton knew the game too well to make any comment when the taxi arrived at his apartment building. If he called attention to the location, the bird-in-hand too often felt required to make some demurral. He paid off the cabbie and silently escorted Irene through the ornate lobby to the bronze-doored self-service elevator.
I'm making it too easy for him, Irene thought as the elevator ascended silently. He's going to think I'm a whore. But the skillful hand on her elbow, with just enough pressure but not too much, urged her to the door of Milton's apartment. Inside, he at once began mixing drinks as an earnest of good intention. "Why don't you take off your jacket?" he said over his shoulder while manipulating bottles and glasses. "It's warm in here."
Irene hesitated, but finally removed her suit jacket. Her blouse fit like glove-silk, and she could feel Milton's eyes once more upon her prominent breasts in their light restraint as he handed her a drink. "It is warm," she murmured in order to have something to say.
He had no intention of allowing the momentum to slacken even for a drink. Once they had time to think, there was danger of losing them. Pressing the glass into Irene's hand, he slipped an arm around her waist casually and lowered his head. "You really are beautiful, you know," he said softly before fusing his lips upon hers.
The hard kiss surprised Irene, who had expected a more leisurely pace. Balancing the nearly full liquor glass in her hand, she was in poor condition to fight off the embrace even if such had been her intention. Flowerlike, her mouth opened instinctively to the probing of Milton's tongue as his chest crushed her breasts.
At an early age Milton had learned that a fully-clothed girl resists manhandling as much for fear of getting mussed as for Sunday school principles. It was a cherished axiom of his that a girl with thighs bared was a girl with a prick three-quarters of the way into her willing cunt. With Irene's lips moving warmly beneath his, he drew down the zipper of her skirt and let its weight drag it down to the lush carpeting.
"Milton!" Irene muttered in automatic protest even while her tongue sought out his and engaged it. Heat waves were emanating from the region of her tight-feeling stomach. With the skill born of practice Milton took her undrained glass from her hand and disposed of it, rucked up her half-slip, and stroked the backs of her bare thighs. Irene shivered, and Milton deftly slipped a hand under the waistband elastic of her panties and slid the hand downward until it cupped a luscious nude globe.
"Milton!" Irene's tone was hoarse. The man was incredibly clever in his approach. He had remained two steps ahead of her all the way, forcing the issue. The feel of the masculine palm on her bare buttock reminded her of how much she missed Norm. She was getting wet just standing there, feeling the quick cupping-and-releasing movement of the male hand on her naked flesh.
"What gorgeous skin!" he murmured in her ear, brushing the lobe with his lips. Another shiver rippled through Irene as her apartment-mate's boss deftly disposed of her panties altogether and immediately probed at her red-gold feathery moss clustered at her thigh juncture. He'll think I'm a whore! one corner of Irene's excitement-muzzied mind trumpeted at her. But why fight it! another corner replied.
Irene sighed deeply as Milton inserted his hand between her slack thighs and cupped her whole pussy on his palm, which opened and closed gently. Her knees grew weak, and she leaned heavily against him. In the instant he sensed all possible resistance had collapsed, Milton picked her up bodily and carried her to a convenient bedroom.
He was unbuttoning his own clothing with one hand while he bent down over the semi-recumbent Irene and pressed fervently clinging kisses to her warm nude backside. "Gorgeous!" he muttered again, toeing off his shoes. Irene was startled when he slid onto the bed with her, nude. He did everything so quickly there was never an opportunity to mount effective retreat. He had her out of the remainder of her clothing while she was concentrating upon the feel of his elongated penis pressing against her thigh.
"Beautiful!" Milton caroled as he fitted Irene beneath him and luxuriated in soft hand-fuls of snow-white, ruby-nippled boobies and navel-dimpled belly. He took Irene's thighs in his surprisingly strong hands and doubled them back upon her breasts, totally exposing her pink slit clustered with red-gold curls. "Beautiful!" he said again, and inserted a finger into Irene's reddish-thatched sex-fissure.
He frigged her slowly as her sexual flesh clung to the probing finger, the pouting pussy-lips moving in and out with the steady movement of the deliriously exciting intruder. He withdrew the finger and moved it slightly downward, where it nestled against Irene's taut brown-berry anus. "Ever have it romping around in there?" Milton asked quietly.
Irene didn't hesitate. "When I was married," she said. Norm had introduced her to the anguish-delight of a stiff prick in her rectum.
Milton at once squirmed his fingertip into Irene's tight receptacle. She tensed and held her breath as the finger remorselessly advanced until Milton's knuckles grazed either side of her supporting walls. Quick little flaring nips of sharp pain radiated from her invaded asshole, but there was a countermanding sensation that was not painful at all but acutely self-serving. "Fuck me first so I'll loosen up all over," she was ashamed to hear herself plead.
Milton paid no attention. The constricted flesh around his inserted finger had his robust love-muscle standing at attention. He loved to fuck a tight asshole, and this was a tight one. Dolly's was no longer sufficiently constrictive to arouse him to his best efforts, due to much usage earlier in their marriage.
He removed his finger for the second time from an Irene-orifice, and she slowly uncoiled from her doubled-up position. Milton was moving swiftly again. He carried two pillows to the far wall and placed them on the floor end-to-end, then picked up Irene and carried her to them. He placed her on her knees, inclined her upper body forward, widened her thighs, and moved in behind her with his swinging spear prodding her hind cheeks. "I've got to have it!" he said between his teeth, spitting on his palm several times and moistening the head and shaft of his beefy cock.
Irene's whole body trembled as she felt the blunt, slippery head of his starched penis slip between her parted hind cheeks and prod her tight rosebud. Milton leaned into her, and Irene grunted inelegantly as the head of his prick wormed its way into her anus. Milton backed off and shoved, backed off and shoved again, and a bolt of pain shot through the red-haired girl's riven flesh. She chewed her lower lip silently as Milton plowed into her, his cock slipping in a little at a time.
She received the final three inches of his ramrod-erection with a rush as he broke through the resistance of her sphincter. "Ahhhhhh!" she gasped as another clutching pain seized her momentarily, but then her rectum relaxed as Milton remained still for a moment. She pursed her lips apprehensively when he finally began to move upon her, but the pain was gone. Instead, she felt a mounting excitement as the hard rod savaged her backhole and Milton's balls slapped her lower buttocks.
Milton pistoned his straining cock in and out of Irene's deliciously constricted asshole, scrabbling with his knees on the pillows for better leverage as he thrust mightily into her bowel-depths. The warm, loose, oleaginous texture of her inner tissue titillated him unbearably. His shaft was still gripped tightly but his prick-head was floating in whipped cream. Looking down, he saw the blue-veined white gristle protruding from between the redhead's parted buttock-cheeks, and he shoved harder.
A slow tickling-teasing sensation bubbled into full-blown life inside Irene's unused cunt-walls. She writhed her hips as the sensation grew stronger. She raised a hand previously used to balance herself against Milton's whacking lunges into her and tried to insert it into her flaming pussy. Sensing her movement, Milton threw his arms around her and intercepted her hand, sliding two fingers of his own into her slavering quim while with his other hand he repeatedly nipped her flinching clitoris with quick pinches.
"Ohhhhhhhhhh!" Irene bleated, on fire fore and aft. Her sheath-walls grabbed convulsively at Milton's fingers. "Aieeeee! Ooooooo! Dear- God!" Her mind reeled at the totality of the sensations flooding her. Never had she been so skillfully ass-fucked! "Ooooooh!" Her slender thighs thrashed madly. "Ohhh! Ohhhhhhh! You're-I'm-ooooooooohh!-coming! I'm- mmmmmmmmm!-COMING!"
Along her crouched back Milton snarled raspingly as he powered his hips into a final frenzied assault that pumped a flood-tide of sperm through his rod into the girl's tight-gapped strainer. Irene sagged beneath him as her own orgasm petered out, and Milton pulled out of her distended anus with a cork-popping sound. Sperm gushed from her buttonhole down her thighs onto the backs of her legs, and Irene stretched out wearily on her side as Milton parted her hind cheeks curiously for a final look at the reddened moist asshole he had just finished sodomizing.
"I've got to go," Irene mumbled huskily after a long moment's silence.
Milton King laughed. He was rubbing his crimsoned prick against Irene's bare thigh, and the oily-looking cock was rising again. "You'll go after I turn you over and fuck your cunt-hole," he said crisply. The bawdy words stirred Irene; a sensual shiver rippled through her soft, relaxed flesh. Milton's quick hands flipped her over onto her back. He deployed her legs, augmenting the upward tilt of her hair-lined pouting-lipped sex-crevice, then lined up his once-again steely shaft with the redhead's wide-splayed cunt-opening, bedewed by sperm descended from her rectum.
Irene rested on her back and looked up at her ravisher with a look of sex-fever naked in her wide-staring eyes.
Wayne Evans waited for Irene Blanchard to open the apartment door after his knock, but it was Jessie Irwin who opened the door. "Oh, hi," Wayne said, slightly disconcerted at the appearance of the dark-haired girl. "I'm-Irene was going to give me another facial tonight."
"She'll probably be along soon," Jessie replied, stepping aside to let Wayne enter the apartment. She looked at his face as she closed the door. "It's really helping, isn't it?" she commented.
"You bet it is," Wayne said fervently. He ran a hand over his face where the hardened scalelike residue had noticeably softened. "Only four treatments, too. Irene says a dozen should have me almost normal. I still can't believe it." He looked at Jessie, who was wearing a casual housecoat. "I don't suppose anyone with skin like yours can imagine how I've felt all my life."
"It's nice Irene was able to help," Jessie said gently.
Wayne was thinking of Jessie's magnificent skin-tone as he had seen it displayed in the shack near the pond after the skating accident had soaked them both. He tried to remember what Jessie had looked like, nude, but all he could think of was Dolly King's plump curvaceousness and Irene's slender-but-sturdy nakedness. Jessie was better-looking than either, and he was surprised that he couldn't remember what her full-figured beauty of form looked like.
Jessie had observed his distraction. "What's the matter?" she inquired. "Why are you looking so distraught?"
"Nothing," he said absently. Wayne was remembering how he hadn't been able to make Jessie come that afternoon. With his recent experiences with Dolly and Irene buttressing his former lack of dexterity, he was sure he could make her come now. He looked at Jessie speculatively, wondering how much underwear she had on beneath the housecoat.
"Really, Wayne," Jessie said with a little laugh, "what is the matter with you? You look like-well I don't know what."
"I'll tell you, since you ask," Wayne replied with sudden boldness. "I want to fuck you." Jessie blinked, uncertain she had heard correctly. Wayne took a quick step in her direction and circled her waist with his arm. His heart leaped exuberantly when his fingertips announced to him that beneath the housecoat there was just Jessie. "God, you feel good!" he said tensely, massaging a thinly clad haunch through the housecoat.
"Wayne!" He had parted the housecoat in front and was staring at her breasts, belly, and dark-muffed mound as though memorizing each individual characteristic of Jessie's female opulence. "No, no, no!" Jessie half-wailed as Wayne lifted her housecoat in back and played with her chubby amplitudes. She squealed breathlessly when her fellow banking employee caught her to him suddenly and crushed her against him until she could feel through his clothing his hard-bunched groin against her thigh.
"Please, Jessie!" Wayne begged, his hands laving her supple bottom-cheeks while his arms pinioned her. "I couldn't make you come before, but I can now. Please!"
The fondling hands on her bare bottom stirred Jessie almost as much as the hard-pricked probing against her upper leg. A sudden languid-ness assailed her; it was pleasant to be wanted so desperately. Wayne was a good friend, so how could it be wrong to assuage his eager desire? She stood submissively as Wayne, sensing the diminution of her resistance, rapidly whisked off the housecoat completely. Their commingled heavy breathing was the only sound in the room as Wayne's hands moved restlessly over the silky slopes of Jessie's naked belly, breasts, and buttocks.
She followed obediently when he took her by the arm and led her to her bedroom. She had been resting, and the bed was already stripped. She sat on its edge, watching in a sort of stopped-camera calm as Wayne quickly undressed. It wouldn't be much good for her, she knew from the last time, but how could she say no when it obviously meant so much to him? It was with almost a maternal attitude on her part that she reached out and gently took his unbending muscular cock in her hand and toyed with its bright red head when he approached her on the bed.
She permitted him to move her into the center of the bed and to extend her smoothly fleshy thighs laterally. The husky cock rested on her warm belly for a moment as Wayne moved in between her parted legs. "It'll be better, Jessie," he was whispering over and over. "It'll be better for you."
She was afraid for a second he was going to plunge his rigidity into her dry hole, but then she felt a fingertip teasing her orifice after separating her cunt-lips. The finger marched upward to her clit, and Jessie's thighs quivered. A slow, easeful down-dripping ensued at once that liberally bathed Wayne's finger. Jessie squirmed slightly in unexpectedly agreeable enjoyment as the fleshly candle titillated her candle-holder.
The finger departed despite Jessie's closing her thighs upon it in mute protest. Wayne widened them again and introduced the head of his prick to Jessie's dimpled cunt-hole. She relaxed as the softer-feeling but broader-based rugged spear began to pierce her gaping twat. It went inside in a series of shoves that crammed her cloister with the desirable sex-meat. Jessie's breath passed between her half-parted lips in a long sigh.
But it was when Wayne began to work upon her that she at once sensed the difference from the previous time in the shack. Her breath caught in her throat as the pistoning prick started quick little fires in her interior. What in the world was happening? She certainly hadn't felt like this before with Wayne. "Ohhhh!" she exclaimed involuntarily as her hermitage-walls gripped the visitor snugly upon each of Wayne's powerful immersions in her surprised pussy. "That's -uhh!-lovely, Wayne! Oooooh! You're doing-it beautifully!" she panted. "I'm-ooooh! AHHHHHHHhhhhhh!"
She came so quickly and so effortlessly she had no time to articulate it. The soles of her feet shot ceilingward and her nude hips spiraled upward from the bed while the soft cheeks of her behind shook and shivered from the violence of her orgasm. Her greedy cunt clutched at Wayne's rod repeatedly as her sheath-walls oozed sex-moisture along his penetrating prong.
"Ahhhhhhhhhh!" Jessie moaned in relaxed bliss as her bottom sank back upon the sheet. Wayne, who had gone into neutral when he felt her come, resumed his stiff-pricked poking of her lubricious channel. "Take your time, Wayne," Jessie whispered to him. "Make it a good one for yourself." Her hands fitted themselves to his shoulders and cradled him to her breasts.
In seconds her half-closed eyes flew open unbelievingly as a renewed tingling deep within her prick-filled cunt signaled a palpitating resurgence of sensation. Dear God, was she going to come again?
Outside the apartment Norman and Irene Blanchard were sitting in his car, quarreling. Norm had been waiting for Irene in the apartment parking lot, and he had half-talked, half-forced her into his car. "We've got to get a few things straight right now," he growled at her, his face close to hers.
"You don't own me, Norm Blanchard!" Irene returned warmly, refusing to be intimidated by her ex-husband.
"Shut up!" he said rudely. "I suppose you've been out fucking someone?"
"None of your business!" she retorted.
"Who was it?" he persisted jealously.
Irene hesitated. She had never been able to lie successfully to Norm. Sooner or later he forced the truth from her by sheer perseverance. "Jessie's boss," she said reluctantly. "It-it just sort of happened. He likes the same thing you do."
"You mean he punked you in the ass?" Norm demanded, outraged.
"He buggered it," Irene said primly.
"The sonofabitch!" Norm snorted. But he returned to the main point. "Who else? Fucked you, I mean?"
"Wayne," Irene said.
"Wayne!" It was almost a shout. "That kid? You sure as hell must have been hard up!"
"He's not as much of a kid as you think, Norm." She tried to turn the tables. "I suppose you've been laying half the town?" It was a familiar pattern: mutual recrimination, mutual distrust. Only in bed had they ever attained any satisfaction together.
"Who else?" Norm persisted, ignoring her question.
"No one else," Irene said truthfully. She could feel the familiar thawing in her protective veneer as she sat close to Norm in his car. She had never known a man whose physical proximity excited her so much. She wanted him right now, angry though she still was with him for his brief show of independence. She would have bet that he felt the same way, too. She would have bet that if she reached over and put her hand on his trouser-fly, the familiar rampant erection would be present. She had to almost forcibly restrain herself from reaching. The tip of her tongue licked her dry lips.
And then Norm took her hand suddenly and placed it on his groin. Irene almost whimpered at the feel of his hard cock. The crotch of her panties dampened as she gently squeezed the semi-rigid penis which could transport her to such blissful heights. "Let's go upstairs," Norm said thickly.
Irene had been half expecting him to take her pants off right in the car. "Jessie's probably there," she said weakly.
"I don't give a shit if the Queen of England is there!" Norm rasped. "I'm gonna fuck your bare ass till it's busier'n a gravedigger in cholera times!"
The lewd image his words concocted excited Irene still more. Norm opened the car door, and she got out obediently. In the self-service elevator he took out his cock and showed it to her. "I'm gonna clean your teeth with this little jobbie, baby," he announced with deep satisfaction.
The back of Irene's throat felt parched. She could almost taste the big prick Norm was waving at her. She fumbled in her handbag for her key. When she stood in front of the apartment door, Norm crowded up behind her and his released rigidity poked her between the buttocks. "Norm!" she whispered frantically. "Suppose someone comes out into the corridor!"
"Let 'em come!" he said grimly. "Get that goddamn door open or you'll walk inside with a prick already in you!"
She got the door open somehow, although her hands were trembling. Once inside, she held up a warning hand to Norm, who was right behind her. Muffled sounds were coming from the interior of the apartment, sounds Irene couldn't immediately identify. Then a long moan of sexual pleasure drifted out to them, and Norm grinned. "Your girl friend's gettin' her ashes hauled," he observed.
"Quiet!" Irene pleaded. She slipped off her shoes, pointed to Norm's, and waited until he did the same. Stocking-footed, they walked silently through the living room to the partly opened door of Jessie's bedroom. Irene's stomach gave a lurch at the vision of lust on the bed, so much more graphic somehow than she had anticipated when she thought she'd sneak a look.
Jessie was face down on the bed with Wayne kneeling between her widened thighs while he supported himself above her back with both hands on the bed alongside her shoulders. Jessie's flaring nude buttocks were elevated slightly as Wayne's thick prong plowed lustily between them. Wayne's face was almost hidden as he stared down between Jessie's shoulderblades and plunged his hips forward in metronomic precision, but Jessie's face was turned toward the door, and the onlookers gazed silently upon her beautiful face, sensually glazed with almost seraphically unsullied satisfaction. Another low moan escaped her, attesting to her carnal bliss.
"He's got it in her asshole," Irene whispered, awed.
"Naah," the more knowledgeable Norm replied. "It's in her cunt." He watched for a moment critically. "He's doin' a hell of a job," he admitted grudgingly. Before Irene had an inkling of his intention, he sauntered toward the bed. "H'ya, kids," he said airily. "Stand a little company?"
Jessie's half-closed eyes flew open and she emitted a choked scream as Wayne froze at the point of deepest penetration, lodged to the hilt within her clasping pussy-lips.
Bugeyed, they both stared at their visitors.
"Like you got that thing really plugged, man," Norm said approvingly to Wayne.
"Wh-what do you want?" Wayne stammered as Jessie tried fruitlessly to wriggle her hips free from the prick penetrating her buttock crevice. Wayne's cock was rammed home too deeply.
"Want?" Norm repeated. "Why, a little of the same, that's all." He turned to look at Irene. "Shuck your duds, sister, an' let's get in the ball game."
Deliberately he began to remove his own clothing.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Jessie Irwin thought she had never been so mortified in her life, pinned helplessly face down on her bed with Wayne's long cock protruding from between her sweat-glistening buttocks, whose pristine milky sheen Norm Blanchard was admiring as he speedily undressed. "Irene!" Jessie gasped as Wayne's prick throbbed inside her lubricious cunt. "Take Norm -out of here! Please!" She addressed herself immediately to the owner of the blue-veined cock three-quarters immersed between her plump white hind cheeks. "Wayne! Pull out, Wayne! This-this is awful!"
"The hell with that, Wayne," Norm spoke up breezily. "I'll have Irene on the bed alongside Jessie in a minute and we'll see who can last the longest."
"Irene!" Jessie wailed despairingly.
The redhead knew she wasn't going to talk Norm out of anything he wanted to do, and that in his present mood discretion was by far the better part of valor. Her pulse was still beating a little faster, stirred by the erotically indecorous tableau on the bed. She didn't think she approved of what she instinctively knew Norm proposed to do, but there was excitement in the bedroom air. Sexual excitement she could feel right in the pit of her stomach.
Norm approached her, naked except for his socks, his half-aroused penis swinging freely in front of him. "Out of those clothes!" he said briskly to Irene, who had been lagging in her divestiture. Her ex-husband quickly peeled Irene to her stockings, picked her up bodily, and carried her to the bed. He stretched her out belly down beside the still protesting Jessie, then moved in between her extended legs until he paralleled Wayne's position on Jessie except for the prick-insertion.
For an instant Wayne and Norm stared down at the nubile girlish bare backsides upturned before them. Irene's skin, seen in direct comparison, was whiter than Jessie's creamier skin-tone. Jessie's full-laden, amply fleshy behind was larger than Irene's, which was more delicately shaped. "Isn't that a pair?" Norm said quietly to Wayne as both inspected the downy-haired sleek hemispheres shrinkingly presented to their mutual gaze. Both girls had clenched their buttock muscles involuntarily as they sensed the double-viewing that was taking place.
"Oooooh, Norm!" Irene murmured throatily as she felt her ex-husband raise her slightly by the hips. Wayne watched and even Jessie turned her head to see Norm insert his rampant cock between the red-haired girl's velvety nude seat-cushions. "Norm!" Irene cried out as she felt the familiar large prickhead nudging her sex-slot. She wriggled her bottom, half in shame, half in desire as the lusty penis penetrated her vaginal hole and slid inexorably upward into the depths of her febrile-feeling cunt. "Ohhhhhhh!" she moaned softly.
Norm looked across at Wayne, still prick-lodged in Jessie's pink-lipped sex-bower. "Ready?" he asked. "Then ride 'em, cowboy!"
In unison both men plunged their hips forward, compressing the soft buttocks beneath their hard bellies as their joysticks slammed to the hilt in the twin cunts. The white bottoms rebounded resiliently as Norm and Wayne withdrew for another stroke. Wayne fucked Jessie as zestfully as Norm was slotting Irene. Wayne had already come once with Jessie in the missionary position, and this had dulled his edge to the point where he was in no danger of coming immediately although he felt strong.
"Ooooh!" Jessie whispered as Wayne's renewed poking of her aroused her previous excitement. She turned her head on the bed until she was staring into Irene's face a foot away. Without a word being said they inched closer together until they could kiss. The soft mouths and fevered tongues fused in a melange of sexual gratification as, with all thoughts of shame dissipated, both girls thrust up their bottoms to help in deeper penetration of their twitching, prick-filled pussies.
"God, look at that!" Wayne gasped to Norm, awed, gazing down upon the mouth-locked Irene and Jessie.
Norm grunted unintelligibly as he plowed Irene's pasture. His prick felt as though it was bursting from the double stimulation of imprisonment within his ex-wife's warm quiver and the sight of Wayne's furious assault upon Jessie's moistened crypt. The double sound of male bellies spanking female bottoms echoed in the bedroom.
Jessie shivered suddenly and dug with her knees frantically at the bedsheet. She wrenched her mouth away from Irene's as a quick series of lightning bolts exploded in her interior. "Ohhh! Ohhh! Ohhh!" she cried out in ecstasy. Pure delight bubbled in her veins. "Oooooh, I'm-it feels so-ahhhhhh!-'m-coming! Ooooooh, I'm-coining!"
Beside her Irene's eyes had acquired a sexual glaze. She heard the first part of her friend's pronouncement but not the last. A devilishly titillating tremor in her own female flesh was immediate consolation for the loss of Jessie's hot, clinging lips and mouth. A skyrocket went off in her womb, quaking every millimeter of her flesh. "Eeeeeeeeeee!" Irene shrilled as her cunt-walls grabbed convulsively at the intruder prick in their depths. "Owoooooo!" Her behind humped up and down. "Love-ly!" she panted hoarsely. "OHHHHHHHHHhhhh, there it-is!" Her hips flurried madly as orgasm overtook her. "AHHHHHHHHHHhhhhhh!" she sighed, drained.
Norm and Wayne looked down at the hard-breathing females beneath them. "Let's swap!" Wayne said impulsively.
"Like you're faded, man," Norm returned immediately.
Both men pulled out their unexpended lances, shining with girlish spend. Awkwardly they changed places, inserting their knees between the parted white female legs. Norm separated Jessie's heavy hind cheeks and aimed his thunderbolt at her oozing, reddened recess while Wayne did the same with Irene. Within seconds of each other they were once more laboring in the vineyard with mighty thrusts of twin cocks into twin cunts.
Norm succumbed first. He lowered himself along Jessie's perspiration-shiny back as his hips skittered out of control. "Jesus!" he shouted as quick spurts of sperm were ripped from him involuntarily. "Oh, Jesus, what a fuck!" His hairy ass plunged rabbitlike in quick jabs as he deluged Jessie's quim. "Aggrrrrh!" he groaned mightily as he rested on Jessie and felt his draining prick begin to shrivel inside her.
Wayne dropped down similarly upon Irene's sweat-dampened body. His thighs jerked savagely from the energy he was pouring into the prick-strokes he propelled into the redhead's willing twat. His own orgasm overtook him before he was mentally ready for it. "Ahhhhh!" he mewed in a braying sound that was half zealous endeavor and half protest at the too-quickly-arrived-at climax. The bedsprings creaked from the assault of his plunging knees. Irene's body quivered from the force of his attack upon it. "Ahhh!" he gasped again as his straining balls propelled his come through his fleshy tube. "Damn, damn, DAMN, that's- good!" The tip of his prick stung from the violence of his semen-expulsion, and he collapsed on Irene's back as he felt its quivering cessation. Wayne breathed through his nose as his parched throat refused to supply enough air. He raised his head after a moment and looked at Norm who, in a similar position, was grinning at him. "Wow!" Wayne said fervently.
"Yeah," Norm agreed more laconically. "This is quite a team of fillies."
"Will you please get off us?" Jessie said spiritedly but in a muffled tone. "You don't feel like a pound of feathers, you know."
"Why didn't you complain before?" Norm retorted, but he raised himself and drew back out of Jessie's slot, which made a squishy sound as it gave up its limp prisoner. Wayne did the same with Irene with a similar result. Both men looked down again, in the instant before the girls simultaneously rolled onto their sides, at the pinkened behinds lightly colored by friction.
Jessie and Irene, their previously heated blood cooling rapidly, refused to look at each other. Norm noticed at once. "None of that this time!" he said sharply. He seized Jessie and rolled her onto her back. "Grab Irene an' switch ends so's you can drop her mouth on Jessie's cunt," he directed Wayne. He held Jessie's kicking legs up in the air while Wayne did as directed. Norm pushed Irene's middle down upon Jessie's face. "Now whack ass if they don't get into each other," he told Wayne, emphasizing his point by a sharp slap upon Jessie's upheld bottom.
Irene found herself with her face pressed down between Jessie's warm thighs and an apricot-colored, musty-smelling wet cunt under her mouth. Tentatively she dipped her tongue into it, then shivered when she felt a tongue at her own widened slit as Jessie worked at the dripping cunt above her face. Once each was satisfied she wasn't the spectacle, they scoured out each other's pussies with fiery-probing diligence.
Wayne and Norm watched fascinatedly the female sixty-nining. "That really gets to me," Wayne confided to Norm in a low voice. "Seeing them suck on each other like that." His previously drooping prick with its mucously-shining purplish head was rising in a steady arc. He crouched to watch closely as Irene's hips writhed slowly from the stimulation of Jessie's quick-darting tongue in her quim.
Norm was still holding Jessie's legs up in the air so Irene wouldn't have to bow her neck too much to get at her friend's frankly displayed mossy fissure. "They sure like to chew on each other," Norm agreed. He looked at Wayne speculatively. "Did you ever ream Jessie's asshole?"
"Her asshole?" Wayne repeated, startled. "N-no."
"You ought to try it," Norm advised. "There's nothin' like it when you're crammed into a female dogberry." He was silent until the furious lapping and sucking on both ends of the female coupling had died out to an occasional languid tongue-extension into a moist crevice. He motioned to Wayne, who lifted Irene off Jessie's belly. Norm watched while the girls gravitated into each other's arms and exchanged kisses which quickly turned into tongue-licking removals of lip-moisture. "Okay," he said with satisfaction at this sign of peace in the family. "I got an errand to run, girls, but Wayne's got an idea to keep the party goin'." He began to dress.
"Yes," Wayne said boldly. "I'm going to fuck your asshole, Jessie. And you're going to help me do it, Irene."
"Oh, Wayne!" Jessie said, but with no real protest in her tone. She was still feeling flushed from her sexual activity and for the first time in an aftermath she didn't feel acutely ashamed. Her glance at Irene was challenging. The embarrassment would undoubtedly come later, she realized, after the carnal excitement had worn off.
Dressed and at the bedroom door, Norm lingered a moment as Wayne and Irene took Jessie and disposed her so that her lush rump was sprawled openly over a pillow placed at THE END of the bed. Wayne and Irene consulted quietly together while Wayne parted Jessie's nascent hind cheeks and exposed her tiny pink rosebud. "I'll get the vaseline," Irene said clearly.
Norm hesitated.
Should he stay and participate in what promised to be a most delightful frolic?
But he reminded himself that he had other fish to fry.
Reluctantly, he left the apartment and descended to the street. He knew that in their present frame of mind he wouldn't be missed by those he left behind.
Norm Blanchard drove rapidly across town in his car, formulating a plan as the miles dropped away behind him. By the time he reached his goal, a street of pretentious residences, he was sure he was ready. He fixed his salesman's smile confidently upon his face as he turned into Milton King's crushed stone driveway and parked under the archway before the front entrance.
He rang the bell and waited impatiently. He was eager now to get on with this program he had conceived after listening grimly to Irene's relation of how Milton King had punked her in the ass. The oldest story in the world was that what was sauce for the goose was sauce for the gander, Norm thought to himself as he waited for the door to open. Unless he got a really bad break, there should be an ass right inside this house to punk.
Dolly King opened the door.
She had obviously been taking a nap. Her eyes were still muzzy and her usually carefully arranged blonde hair was flying artlessly all over her head yet somehow contrived to appear youthfully attractive. "How do you do, Mrs. King?" Norm said, taking the initiative at once. "I'm a photographer who is taking some shots of the personnel at the bank, and your husband thought it was time he had a current semi-formal portrait of you."
"Why-why," Dolly stammered, "but I'm a mess! He should have called me! My hair-" Her voice trailed off as a hand went to her head, automatically trying to fluff her hair into some semblance of order.
"Nonsense!" Norm said cheerfully. "We'll just run a comb through it and set it to rights in no time." He glanced at his watch meaningfully. "I have to be back at the bank soon."
Dolly slipped the chain latch from the door. "Couldn't I make an appointment for-for tomorrow?" she was still protesting when Norm walked past her into the ornate interior of the front hall.
"I'll be miles away tomorrow," Norm said briskly. "Your husband wanted you to take advantage of this opportunity."
"Well-" Dolly sighed. She closed the door. "What on earth shall I wear? Did you say a semiformal portrait?" She led the way into the somewhat austere-looking downstairs sitting room with its sterile groupings of interior decorator-arranged objets d'art. The enormous room didn't look lived in, Norm thought.
"A cocktail dress?" Dolly continued, facing Norm again. Her negligee covered without concealing the double swell of bosom and buttocks above and below her small waist. Norm had heard Irene say that Dolly had a drinking problem, but except for the slightest puffiness under her eyes there was no indication of it in the baby doll beauty of her almost flawless features. Studying her, Norm felt a quick surge of excitement. There was nothing that turned him on sexually more than womanly amplitudes, and Dolly King had womanly amplitudes in abundance. "Do you think a cocktail dress?" Dolly repeated.
"You have beautiful skin, Mrs. King," Norm said earnestly. "To do justice to it we'd really have to pose you in the baby style of the '90s. You know, nude and bottom-up over a cushion."
Dolly giggled at the image recalled, then set her soft mouth primly. "You're becoming a bit familiar, Mr.-Mr.-" She paused when she realized she didn't know Norm's name. In the next instant she realized something else. "Your- your camera!" she faltered. "You don't-did you leave your camera in your car?" she finished hopefully.
Norm edged closer to her in case she panicked when she realized her situation, alone in her home with a strange man. "There's no camera, Dolly," he said easily. "I'm here for another reason."
"But-but I don't understand! You said-"
"Did you ever hear the name Irene Blanchard, Dolly?"
The chubby blonde with the puzzled expression blinked. "Irene-isn't she the friend of Jessie Irwin?"
"Exactly," Norm said. "And my wife." He ignored Irene's acquired-in-haste divorce as he smiled serenely at Dolly. "Whom your husband, Milton, took advantage of recently and fucked in her asshole."
"Ohh!" Dolly exclaimed, startled at the language no less than at the thought.
"So I'm going to fuck your asshole, Dolly," Norm continued.
Dolly King swallowed visibly as one hand went protectively to her rear. "You're-you're joking!" She tried to firm up her quavering voice. "And in the worst possible taste!"
Deliberately Norm unzipped himself and took out his prick, which was undergoing a lazy resurrection. Dolly gave a muted squeak as she glimpsed his sexual machinery, and her eyes widened as she estimated its dimensions. Norm took her by the arm. "What are you afraid of, Dolly?" he asked softly. "Milton fucks you in the asshole, doesn't he?"
"But that's-that's different!" Dolly was getting into a panic. "You're-I don't even know -you can't do this!"
Norm waved his prick at her, and Dolly gulped. "Up your ass, Dolly," he assured her. "Way up. All the way up. Can't you feel it now?" She tried to pull away from his arm grip, but Norm held on. "First we have to make a phone call, though."
Dolly stopped struggling. "A-a phone call?"
"To your husband."
"I don't-I don't understand," Dolly said helplessly.
With his free hand Norm pushed Dolly's negligee from her shoulders. It descended to her arms, which Norm held low as her bright-straw-berry-nippled large white breasts sprang into view. Dolly gave another stifled sound of protest but didn't struggle. Norm bent his head and licked with the tip of his tongue at a bouncingly portly bubby. "You're going to call your husband and tell him a man forced his way into the house under false pretenses and is threatening to fuck your asshole," he said when he straightened up. He tugged on Dolly's arm and drew her toward the telephone.
The well-fleshed blonde moved like a sleepwalker. Norm had to dial for her. "Mr. King, please," he said when he had the connection, then handed the phone to Dolly. "Say it," he demanded.
He could hear Milton King's impatient, "What is it?"
"Milton," Dolly whispered in a choked voice, "there's-there's a strange man in the house who says-who says he's going to-to-" She cut her eyes sideways at Norm and surprisingly blushed, "-fuck my asshole."
"What did you say?" Milton roared. "Have you been at the bottle again?" Norm took the phone from Dolly's unresisting hand. He deepened his voice and made it as menacing as he could. "You think you're the only one who can fuck an asshole, King?" he said heavily. He gave a short, satiric laugh, then broke the connection. "That will fetch husband Milton on the dead run," he said satisfiedly to Dolly.
"But you-you don't really mean to do it?" she pleaded.
"The hell I don't," he said flatly. "I wouldn't miss the chance for a farm. Get yourself out've that negligee, y'hear?"
He had to move her arms like a mechanical doll's to accomplish his purpose. Beneath the negligee Dolly had on only gossamer-thin black lace panties. Norm felt a renewed fire in his loins at the sight of her deeply curved belly dipping down into her thighs. He turned her around and stripped the panties from her, leaving her attired only in pale gentian-colored pomponned slippers. With one hand he patted and stroked and fondled the chubby blonde's dazzling white, pliantly silky wide buttocks while Dolly stirred uneasily. "Oooooh!" she murmured as the amorous touch of the male hand on her bare behind titillated and aroused her. "Please-don't!"
Norm bent her over, plumping out her generous spheres. He parted them and fingered her puckered brown anus. "Target of opportunity, Dolly," he said jubilantly, then glanced at his watch. It would take Milton twenty minutes to drive home even if he exceeded the speed limit.
"But first-" He led Dolly to a chaise longue with an unused look. He placed Dolly on it on her back, then took hold of her legs and spread them, staring down at the exposed silken-fleeced blonde wisps adorning a plump-lipped pink sex-gash. "First," he repeated, "let's rip off a quick one."
He discarded his clothing hurriedly and returned to Dolly, who had made no move to escape. "Your husband knows you can't help yourself, so you can do anything you like, can't you?" Norm remarked.
Dolly's eyes were enormous pools of reflected light. "Yes," she whispered.
"So what would you like to do?"
Dolly's round belly heaved from the quick breath she drew. "Put it in me!" she said with her wide-staring eyes on Norm's rocklike erection. "Put it in my cunt!"
"Strange," Norm said genially, "I had the same idea. For the first course."
He knelt between the blonde's wide-parted legs, lanced her sex-flesh, and for ten minutes fucked her steadily while Dolly King whistled and burbled and squealed and whimpered and moaned in a frenzy of sexual gratification. Norm stayed in her until she came twice, then withdrew. "Now we've got to set the scene," he assured the glazed-eyed blonde who didn't even hear him.
He left the couch and pulled a low-backed chair into the room's center. He confiscated one of the chaise cushions and placed it on the chair-back. Finally he took Dolly by the hand, lifted her from the chaise, and led her to the chair where he bent her over the cushion. He slapped her tautly projecting hind cheeks lightly, then settled his unexpended rod in between them. For minutes he rubbed his unyielding prick all over Dolly's tender bottom-flesh and in between while she wriggled uneasily on the cushion. "What are you waiting for?" she whispered finally.
"For the sound of a key in the front door lock," Norm replied. He parted Dolly's capacious globes experimentally and applied his slippery cockhead to her anus. Dolly flinched at the touch.
Norm maintained his erection until he heard the awaited sound. Immediately he lined up his cock again and thrust mightily at Dolly's quivering asshole. He gained a foothold as she moaned, then shoved, and shoved again. Dolly shrieked as she felt her tender rosebud ravaged by the gristly invader, and her shriek soared as Norm shoved again and Dolly's flesh was riven. He pushed deeply into her warm-feeling, buttery rectum.
Milton King dashed into the room and skidded to a stop on the Oriental rug at the tableau before him. "What the hell!" he shouted hoarsely, and sprinted toward Norm and Dolly. He aimed a blow at Norm which the latter skillfully diverted. Milton swung around again, his face ablaze with rage.
"Want to rip your wife's asshole right out?" Norm inquired.
Milton paused. "Who the hell are you?" he demanded.
"Irene Blanchard's husband."
"Irene-oh." Milton looked and sounded deflated. He looked at Norm's stout prong inserted between his wife's buttocks, then looked away. "What-what do you want?"
"I'm getting it," Norm replied. He saw Milton take another quick look at his penetration of Dolly's rectum, and he moved his hips. The pause before had allowed Dolly to accommodate her sudden distention, and at Norm's movement upon her she released a sighing "Ooooooooooh!" of simple, unalloyed pleasure. "How'd you enjoy Irene's asshole?" Norm asked Milton.
Milton looked away again, but not before Norm saw a feral gleam of excitement in his eyes. "Fine," he said. "You-you do it to her, too?"
"Correct," Norm said. "There's nothing better."
"Agreed," Milton said fervently. His glance couldn't seem to settle down on any one spot. "Listen," he said, then paused.
"Yes?" Norm said.
Dolly King looked around inquiringly. She had expected Milton to be furious; instead he was now engaged in this curious, low-pitched, intense conversation. And the man whose big cock was firmly inserted in her rear aperture had stopped moving in her, to her half-ashamed disappointment.
"Ever make a sandwich?" Milton asked.
"Once." Norm smacked his lips at the memory. "Tremendous."
Milton jerked his thumb at the quiescent Dolly. "Well?"
"You mean-?"
"Share and share alike, of course."
"We sandwich your wife and-"
"At the first opportunity we sandwich yours," Milton said.
Deep within Dolly's compacted rectal area Norm felt the tip of his prick throbbing at the fascinating proposal. "You've got a deal!" he declared, excitement causing his voice to rise.
"Let's get her upstairs," Milton said immediately.
Dolly felt Norm's hands on her hips as he pried her off his turgid, blood-red linchpin. The finger-snapping sound of his emergence crackled in the air. Milton took Dolly's left arm and Norm took her right, and together they led her across the room and up the flight of winding stairs. Dolly hadn't caught up with their clipped conversation, but she knew instinctively that the alliance had only her incidental best interests at heart.
Midway in the stair climb Milton paused. He caressed all of Dolly's silken-skinned excrescences on his side, and Norm at once matched his action on the other. Their hands met between Dolly's odalisque-sized buttocks and probed her wet cunt. "Ohh!" Dolly exclaimed, torn between fear and desire.
They stopped playing with her and half-led, half-carried her up the remainder of the stairs to the master bedroom. Milton stripped the bed with a single clawing sweep of his arm. He took off his clothes hastily as Norm seated the nude Dolly on the bed. "What are you going to do, Milton?" she asked fearfully as her husband joined them, his lengthy pole stiffeningly red-eyed.
He didn't answer her. He spread her legs, pushed her onto her back, and in a quick movement born of long practice slotted his spear in her quiver. It glided unmolested into her already well-lubricated hideaway. Milton gave Dolly three slow plunges as her mouth pursed from the sensation of the familiar prick deep in her cunt, but then he took her in his arms and rolled over suddenly, bringing her on top of him.
Immediately Norm was behind her, and Dolly tried to look around. She felt frightened, but Norm's mouth was on her back, kissing it, and his hands massaged the curving mounds of her soft, malleable buttocks. He took her by the hips and raised her up and down on Milton's shaft, and Dolly gasped. When Dolly relaxed, Norm spread the beautifully ample white hemispheres and once again applied the tip of his prick to Dolly's exposed, red-looking anus.
Dolly tried to wriggle her bottom out of the way, but Norm skillfully pursued his puckered target until the head of his cock penetrated the soft, rubbery tissue. When Dolly squealed at the pain as Norm surged into her asshole again, he reached around and took hold of her large breasts, rubbing the nipples between his fingers.
Once more Dolly relaxed.
The pain started up again as Norm pushed harder. Dolly didn't think she could stand it, but Milton pulled her head down and covered her mouth with his own, shoving his tongue inside and french-kissing her to fresh excitement. Milton jogged up and down with his hips beneath her, and his steely shaft rode in and out of her clutching pussy. Even the large prick impaling her tender rosebud no longer hurt as formerly.
Dolly gasped as Norm grunted behind her, and for the second time slammed his hard cock into the rubbery walls of her rectum. He held tightly to her titties to keep her from getting away from him. Another quick flare of pain evaporated as Norm began to bottom-fuck her in earnest. He pressed against her back and applied his lips to the nape of her neck, kissing it and nibbling at it. Cold chills and hot flashes pirouetted through Dolly's flesh.
The two men quickly fell into a rhythmic pattern, both with their hands on Dolly's waist, elevating her to rise and fall on the prick in her cunt while the cock in her rectum slid in and out. She could feel the heads of their cocks seeming to meet together and press against each other with only a thin tissue of her own softly pink flesh separating them. A rising tide of sexual shamelessness urged her onward.
She speared herself upon Milton and at the same time ground herself into Norm. She rose up and down and was pulled up and down until she felt her insides expanding. She exploded all at once, the hot wetness spreading over Milton's plunging prick. "Ohhhhhh, it was too- quick!" she groaned as her vibrating sheath-walls tried to relax. The buffeting she was receiving fore and aft prevented it, however. Dolly went limp between the two male cocks which continued to fuck her orifices.
An animal cry escaped Norm as his orgasm was triggered by Dolly's tight-clutching asshole and buttery-warm interior. He shot load after load into her straining rectum as Milton lunged up into her from underneath with grunted effort that reflected his own imminent spend. Dolly rode out the storm while the prick below inundated the uppermost reaches of her vaginal wound while the other flooded her bowels.
The frenzied activity came to a stop, and they rested, Milton still under her and Norm solidly embedded in her sperm-filled rectum. Then she felt their gradual softening, then the slow, popping withdrawal of Norm following which she crawled off Milton, whose soft spear slipped out of her. She stretched out on her side on the bed, breathing deeply but calmly. She couldn't remember when she had felt so satisfied or so spent.
Above her prostrate figure Milton looked at Norm. "Change off?" he suggested.
"You bet," Norm replied.
"She'll suck us up," Milton promised.
Dolly thought she had never felt so totally female as when she alternately sucked the two pricks which had just ravished her. She took pride in the fact she was able to make them rise quickly, and her eyes were soft, and limpid-looking when Norm went down on his back and Milton seated her on Norm's renewed erection before Milton moved in behind her and applied his husbandly spear to her semen-weeping hind parts. Her tongue tested her own lips lightly as she tasted her own shit from Norm's prong, but then she gave herself up to the tremendous surge of emotion from deep within her as once again she was stabbed fore and aft by the lusty cocks.
Twenty minutes later Milton and Norm, both naked, strolled down the staircase to the sitting room where Norm had left his clothes. He dressed silently while Milton poured them each a brandy and offered Norm a cigar from a glass humidor. Norm broke the comfortable silence. "There's Jessie," he said. "And Wayne."
Milton raised an eyebrow. "Wayne?"
"He's had both Jessie and Irene," Norm explained.
"And probably Dolly," Milton said wryly. "It seems I've been underestimating the caliber of the help in the bank." He looked down into the amber depths of his brandy pony for an instant. "The circle touches at all points," he said softly. "Perhaps-"
"Yes," Norm agreed. "You could put it together. You've got the apartment in town an'-"
"And the inclination," Milton finished for him. He ushered Norm to the door, and neither man found it odd that Milton was still naked. "You'll be hearing from me shortly," he promised.
Norm looked back at the fieldstone house once with a satisfied smile as he drove out onto the street.
CHAPTER NINE
Jessie Irwin entered Milton King's office and closed the door. "You wanted to see me, Mr. King?" she said in lip service to office protocol.
"Yes." His manner was brusque. "The cashier's position is yours under certain conditions."
"Conditions?" Jessie repeated warily.
"You must understand that I'm doing myself no favor by promoting you to the job." Milton's solemn expression was lightened by a sudden smile. "Given your competitive nature and undoubted qualifications, the day could conceivably come when you might represent a threat to my own position." He smiled again. "So I must ask for some concessions."
"Of what nature?" Jessie asked, although she was sure she knew one of them and she hadn't yet made up her mind about it.
"I'd expect you to make yourself available for fucking occasionally," Milton said casually.
Jessie cringed at the use of the Anglo-Saxon. What kind of person would she be if she baldly acquiesced in her own body-usage by this smiling satyr? Gloria would have fucked Milton to get the job, perhaps had already; yet it was she, Jessie, to whom the job was being offered. In a way it was a tribute to her femininity as much as her banking qualifications. But still- "And then there's Wayne," Milton continued.
It startled Jessie, "W-Wayne?" she stammered. Had Milton King found out about her and Wayne? Surely she wasn't going to lose the position now because Milton disapproved?
"I understand he's quite active in banking circles these days," Milton went on with a knowing smile, and Jessie felt a slow, deep blush consuming her. "So much so that's part of the conditions." He held up his hand and ticked off his fingers. "For the sake of convenient groupings, let's say there's Wayne and you. And Norm and Irene. And Dolly and I." Jessie stared, bug-eyed. "And I have a convenient apartment close by," Milton resumed. "Notice that I said convenient groupings, Jessie, Not permanent, and not necessarily pairs."
"You mean-" Jessie groped for words.
"Saturnalia?" Milton asked. "Why not? I believe you've sampled some aspects of the-ah -sextette. Would you really have many qualms about-ah-broadening your experiences?" His smile widened until his white teeth glistened. "In the employment of pricks and cunts of good friends?"
Jessie drew a slow breath. In the instant she'd thought she might not get the cashier's position when Wayne's name was mentioned by Milton, she had realized fully how badly she wanted it. It was more than the fact that it was the temporary culmination of her years of work in the bank; it was the fact that everyone in the organization knew what manner of man Milton King was, and if Jessie Irwin failed to get the job then Jessie Irwin was lacking in the gut-survival aspect of the business world.
And Jessie Irwin didn't feel she was lacking in anything.
"You have my word," she said carefully.
"Fine," Milton King approved. "Have Wayne stop in here, will you, please?"
Wayne Evans stood uneasily in front of Milton King's desk. "Yes, sir?" he said.
Milton looked up casually from the report he had pretended to be reading. "Dolly says you're a good cocksman, Wayne."
Wayne felt as though he had been punched in the belly. Then he wished the deep pile carpeting in front of Milton's desk would open up and swallow him. "Yes, s-sir," he stuttered.
"And I haven't heard any complaints from Jessie." Wayne took a backward step; his breath was strangled somewhere in the depths of his straining throat. "Or Irene."
I'm fired, Wayne thought miserably. Will I ever be able to get another job?
"So those three and you and I and Norm will be having a few parties at my in town apartment from time to time."
"Eh?" Wayne thought his hearing had gone out of control.
"Assuming you have no objections," Milton said suavely.
"Oh, no! No, indeed! I should say not!" Wayne's voice increased in fervor. "I'll-I'll surely be looking forward to it!" Belatedly he remembered his manners. "And-and thank you!"
He turned at Milton's casual handflip of dismissal and stumbled from the office. Boy, what a near thing! How could this solution ever have come about? Damned if he could understand it, but he certainly wasn't knocking it. Jessie, and Irene, and the soft-bodied Dolly King-his heart skipped a beat. He could hardly wait for the first foregathering.
Norm Blanchard was explaining things to his ex-wife, Irene, at the girls' apartment. Both were nude, and Irene's bright-blotched pink belly testified to the previous few moments' activity. She had been listening to Norm with growing alarm. "But Norm," she protested, "I love making it with you, but in a roomful of people? And with-with others?"
"You've had the others," Norm said matter-of-factly.
"But I'd feel so ashamed! So humiliated!"
Norm eyed her sardonically. "With a stiff prick in your cunt you'd feel ashamed?"
"Well, no," Irene admitted. "Probably not. But-"
"Then wait'll you get three pricks in you at once," Norm said.
"Three pr-oh, Norm, you don't mean it! Why, I'd die! I'd simply die! I mean there are some things-"
"Jessie's agreed," Norm said. "And Dolly."
"Jessie has?" Irene shook her head slowly. "Well, I can certainly do anything Jessie Irwin can do."
"And better," Norm said slyly. He rolled toward her and stroked her smooth stomach and fiddled a finger in her wet pussy. Irene began to wriggle. "What would you like me to do now?"
"Fuck me," Irene said promptly.
"Yeah? Where?"
"In my cunt," Irene said with a quick surge of passion. "In my ass. In my mouth. Between my titties. Anywhere you can put that lovely thing." She reached out and closed her fingers around the sticky massivity of Norm's unflagging purple-headed penis.
"Yeah, well," Norm pretended to grumble, "when do I get time to do the washing?"
He rolled Irene onto her stomach.
It had been easy.
None of them would ever admit another female could do anything they couldn't do.
So now they'd have a housewarming, and he and Milton King, whose dexterity he had come to admire, would have three lovely bodies to sandwich.
Even looking down at Irene's anus right at that moment, as it lay exposed by his hands parting her delicately shaped bare hind cheeks so the tight-looking passageway winked up at his throbbing prick, Norm felt he could hardly wait for the first call to arms.
