Gayle hugged herself tightly as the lights dimmed in the movie theatre and the opening blare of music filled the darkened hall. Eyes squeezed tightly closed, she relived the opening minutes of the technicolor film inside her brain, hoping that none of the all-male audience would recognize her in her disguise.
Sounds of lovemaking filled the hot air around her and Gayle slowly opened her eyes, forcing herself to watch the larger-than-life woman on the screen as two men simultaneously took her. Wild, long red hair swirled on a pillow as the woman opened perfectly formed red lips and moaned in a very real, very sex hungry way. Creamy white skin, perfectly formed breasts, and the furry triangle that proclaimed the girl a true redhead filled the screen as Gayle recalled that particular moment in vivid detail.
Yes, she was that woman up there on the screen, writhing about in frantic need of more and more sex, deeper and deeper thrusts, more and more men! Today, with a legitimate show on the road, Gayle feared more than ever that her smash hit "X"-rated film would someday be her undoing ... but seeing it again only served to excite her to a feverish pitch, and she began to scan the audience for possible bedmates.
CHAPTER ONE
The harsh sound of heavy breathing filled the theater, but whether it came from the screen or the audience, Gayle couldn't tell. She sank lower in her seat, the darkness of the theater hiding the crimson flush of her face as the beautiful, full-bodied redhead on screen spread her legs and opened her swollen pussy to admit the handsome lover who positioned himself over her, his ass and her red-bushed twat facing straight into the eye of the camera.
The two men sitting a few seats down the row were talking in low, guttural tones and chuckling. Gayle drew her collar up around her chin and tucked her luxuriant auburn hair into her coat. She glanced curiously in their direction.
Oh, brother! she thought, if anyone recognizes me, it's all over.
Light from the screen flickered across their lust-puffed faces. To her relief, their eyes were fastened to the screen where the succulent, white limbed body of the big-titted redhead was heaving in apparent ecstasy as the stiff rod of her co-star slid into her open hole.
Gayle chuckled herself at the memory of the shooting of the scene now playing before her. On screen her co-star was looking quite virile. His prick was red and solid; her hole was glistening with lubrication. But all she could remember was the number of times they had to cut in the middle of the action so he could get his constantly failing rod up again. He was such a faggot, she recalled. She had found it necessary to keep her cunt shining wet for camera with the help of a little K-Y while they finally got one of the camera assistants to stand in for the close up of the big, heavy prick squeezing into her small pussy.
She stole another look at the two men on her right. This time the man nearest her glanced in her direction. She saw he was gripping a huge bulge in the crotch of his pants with a big, hairy hand.
He nudged his companion who also turned to see her, but Gayle quickly turned away. Damn, she thought, did they see my face? She felt the pressure of their eyes and her skin prickled. The face she had seen in the dim, flickering fight was attractive and middle-aged, with pale, piercing eyes.
She kept her eyes on the screen and watched herself screwing lustily, first with the fairy actor, then, for the close-up shots of prick and pussy, with the assistant cameraman.
A close-up of the actress's passion-inflamed face made Gayle groan with chagrin. Why hadn't she tried to disguise herself, wear a wig, anything! She had a serious career to pursue now, a career that would not permit any kind of public sexual display or excess. This movie might prove to be the most disastrous mistake she had ever made.
She heard the men down the row murmuring and silently prayed they were not talking about her. She regretted the curiosity that had prompted her to come and see herself for the first time in "Hot Pussycat." She had hoped it wouldn't be too explicit, but the camera angles had taken everything in vivid close-up detail from her face to her feet with every inch of skin to be seen in between.
She had sat through almost ninety minutes of watching every hole in her body entered and violated by a succession of cocks wielded by six or seven different actors and had seen herself look ecstatic at each one, though she remembered the filming as rather unpleasant.
She had made "Hot Pussycat" over a year ago, when she was down and out in New York, broke and desperate. The ad in the trade papers that caught her eye had promised anonymity and discretion; the money was good, so she decided to go up for an audition.
Oddly enough, the casting director didn't fuck her around during either the interview or the subsequent callback. Some of the actresses had been forced to demonstrate their sexual prowess as part of the audition, but the director had liked Gayle and knew she could act. So she found herself the lead in his movie in a part that would take her through just about every form of sexual perversion that they could fit into the script.
She had done everything they had demanded of her, gritting her teeth and pretending she was alone each time she had a "scene" to do. Her sexual style was somewhat cramped by the cameras, but as she saw herself just now, she knew that her performance had been great-and done with a degree of relish, she had to admit. After all, some of her co-stars were quite attractive. If it had been any other kind of production, she might have tried to lay them on her own time.
As a result of the movie, she had gotten herself financially set up for the first time since she had come to New York. It was after the filming that things started happening for her. She picked up a good agent who got her some print work and finally a bit in a Broadway musical. Now she was the leading lady in the bus and truck tour of the same musical that had given her her break into the big time. The show would spend a few weeks in a city or town, then move on to the next stop. It was a plum part for her and would definitely lead to bigger and better things-if only this movie had not cropped up like a ghost from her past to haunt her on her tour.
It usually takes a long time between the shooting and the release of a movie, and "Hot Pussycat" had gone through more than the usual number of delays prior to its release. It had played for a month in Manhattan, where sex movies come and go all the time with very little fanfare. It had made money there, enough to convince its distributors that it was worth releasing out of town. Now it was opening in several cities across the country, in the sleazy porno houses that dot the slums of every major town.
Gayle had called the distributor's office before leaving on tour, pretending to be a theater owner's secretary, asking whether "Hot Pussycat" would be available in any of the four cities her current tour was scheduled to visit. To her dismay, she discovered that it would be shown in every town she would now be playing in her Broadway musical hit!
The man she had spoken to refused to give her the opening dates of each city. Gayle decided it probably didn't matter, that she would just have to take what came and hope no one would make the connection between the strange numphomaniac in the porno movie "Hot Pussycat" and the singing, dancing, wholesome leading lady in the family musical "Speakeasy."
Cigar and cigarette smoke burned her lungs as she settled back for the final climactic scene of the movie. She crossed her arms and idly thumbed her nipple as she watched the screen.
The camera was shooting between the leading man's legs. At the top of the screen his cock and balls swung in stiff expectation. Through his legs the camera showed Gayle lying on her back on the bed, her legs bent at the knees and spread wide, her fingers holding open her oozing crimson gash. Her head was up and she was looking at that erect rod with driving hunger in her grey eyes.
With acrobatic skill, she suddenly arched her back and drove the cock right into her hole. Not only did the camera show every inch of that rod sinking into her greasy slit, but the squelch of wet cunt closing over steel-hard prick reverberated through the theater.
Gayle shivered in her seat. Her nipples were hard knobs against her thumbs. That action excited her, she had to admit. But she was growing alarmed at the tension in the theater audience.
The men in the audience were clapping and shouting obscenities at the figures on screen. She deeply regretted coming here alone. If this crowd knew that the auburn beauty was in the theater, she stood a good chance of being gang-banged by more than forty horny men. The two men next to her kept glancing at her from time to time and that alone was causing the sweat to start on her brow.
The camera angle switched to a back view of the fucking couple. The man had gone to his knees and had drawn Gayle's full-bosomed white body up to his.
She crouched before him, her arms around his neck, her feet next to his lower legs on the bed. The force of his powerful thrusting caused the hefty white globes of her ass to shiver. His hands probed and mauled her bounding buttocks.
Gayle hunched lower in her seat. She knew what was coming next. Her skin prickled with lust and fear.
At a gesture from the hard-driving leading man, a nude black man moved up behind her. The actor spread her white asscheeks with his hand as he continued thrusting. It was clear that the ecstatic red-haired sex goddess was not expecting what followed.
The black man spat on his prick, a huge, foot-long rod, and without warning drove it deep into her puckered asshole. The camera flashed on her contorted, agonized face and her piercing scream rent the heavy air of the theater.
The camera again took a side view of the sex sandwich. The beautiful redhead hung impaled between the black man and the white, writhing in mingled pain and pleasure. The camera's eye was low, showing quite clearly both erections going simultaneously into her two pulsing wet holes.
The theater audience went mad with excitement, but their clapping and urging could not drown out the moaning and squishing noises emanating from the screen.
The two men on Gayle's right were too absorbed in the film to bother her now. She decided to leave quickly and quietly before the house lights came up.
After a full minute of inch-by-inch panning on the three bodies, they reached a tumultuous climax. Juices, cunt and sperm, spurted between their legs and their hips ground together.
Moisture oozed down her white thighs as, one by one, they went limp, the black man coming last, emptying his massive load between her pumping asscheeks, deep into her tight, gripping hole.
As the credits came up from the bottom of the screen, Gayle stood up and slipped out of the theater. She pulled her raincoat collar up around her neck and pushed her sunglasses back on her nose. She felt the curious gaze of the box office manager on her back as she hastened out of the sleazy movie theater ahead of the other patrons.
The streetlights were dim, making the shadows and comers look more ominous than they probably were. Gayle stood anxiously on the comer, hoping a cab would pass and she would not have to walk to the bus station in the dark through this part of town. The movie theater was emptying into the street now; she could hear the bustle behind her. She knew that if she stayed there waiting for a taxi she would certainly be recognized. They had all just seen every square inch of her beautiful body, and had seen her in big, bright technicolor action.
A clock in a grate-covered store window told her it was half-past midnight. She crossed the street and hurried down an alley toward the bus station. To keep her nervousness under control, she ticked off the chores she had to do when she got back to her hotel. Her plane left at noon the next day for Chapel Hill, North Carolina, the next stop on her torn:. She had to finish packing.
She was horny tonight, she realized with a smile. She would call Chuck. The movie, although a snag in her career, was a real turn-on in every other way. She wished she could have gone to see it with a real groovy date, but hip men are not easy to find in a town as uptight as Atlantic City.
A few girls lounged in the doorways in the alley. Several of them wore blonde wigs that looked incongruous on their dark or black skins. All wore brightly colored miniskirts. They eyed her with hostility, but one Spanish-looking girl hissed as Gayle passed, "Hey lady, want to let me suck that nice red pussy of yours?"
Gayle shook her head and hurried past. It sounded nice, but not tonight and not with a whore, she thought.
She heard a burst of laughter and the scuffle of feet behind her. Some of the movie patrons had come straight from the theater to the alley, the red light street in town, no doubt to practice some of the sex tricks they had just seen in "Hot Pussycat."
As she emerged from the alley, only the small city park lay between her and the bus station. The streetlights were lit along the park path, but there was only a sliver of a moon in the sky and Gayle could hardly see the lights of the station across the park. She could see people, mostly men, lounging in the park and she wished that she had not come to see her film after all. It was a bitter pill to swallow, seeing herself fucking and sucking on screen, knowing that if she were recognized in any of her tour stops now it could mean the end of her budding career as a legit actress.
She knew she could dig having a copy of the film for her own use, but just wished it had not been released to the general public.
She crossed the park at a quick pace, looking straight ahead of her, trying to ignore the annoying catcalls that assailed her ears from every cluster of men she passed. She didn't mind a come-on, but pussy noises turned her off. She felt safe only when she reached the opposite curb and left the park.
She was in the shelter of the bus station, looking for her bus, when she heard the footsteps behind her that stopped whenever she stopped. At first she tried to pretend that whoever was behind her was looking for the bus too. But there were two people, and they weren't talking. She knew that their eyes were on her.
She tried to look casual and leaned over to adjust her stockings. She caught a glimpse of them staring hungrily at her bent ass. She recognized the two men she had sat next to inside the theater.
The older man moved toward her, but she quickly straightened up and hurried through the doors into the bus station. To her chagrin she found it was empty. Even the ticket desk was closed.
The dim yellow lights cast a fearful hue on the dingy, chipped walls and the sound of her hurried breathing echoed in the empty room.
She saw a door at the back of the waiting room and headed for it. The front door opened behind her and the two men entered quietly. She turned the doorknob, but it was locked. She struggled with the door, but it no use, she was stuck.
There was no doubt about their intent now as she turned to see them approach her. Their eyes fairly glowed with lust and they came up, one on either side of her. To her relief, however, they tried to look casual, and only Gayle's practiced eye could have detected the sheer lust she knew was gnawing at their loins. At least it was not going to be a tough scene. She sighed, her previous tension completely dispelled.
The older man was in good shape, around forty-five, with grey hair, obviously premature and attractive on him too. His face was lean and alert. He had what Gayle called "bedroom eyes," steel blue and deep-set. Right now they were roving over her body and searching her face with interest.
The younger man was slim and dark-haired, about twenty-five, with the same sexy eyes, although his seemed more innocuous. His face was like the older man's, only more sharply defined, with high cheekbones and a thinner nose. He looked the way the other might have looked twenty years ago, so much so that Gayle was prompted to ask, "Are you brothers?"
The older man laughed. "This is my oldest son, Mike. I'm Bill. We're always taken for brothers," he added proudly.
"We're pretty close," Mike added. 'We do a lot together. Want to have a drink with us?"
Gayle hesitated. She was very horny and the idea of making it with a father and son made her pussy itch with anticipation. She decided that since she was leaving the next day, it didn't even matter if they recognized her as the star of the film. In fact, she thought with delight, why not even admit it! It wasn't likely they would recognize her at the star of "Speakeasy." They didn't seem like theatergoing types.
She laughed, showing perfect, even teeth. She felt the moisture bubbling in her crotch.
"Sure, I'll have a drink," Gayle said. "Do we walk or drive to wherever we're going?"
"I've got a car," said Bill. "We can go pick up another girl...."
"Not on your life," Gayle interrupted. "I want both of you all to myself. And don't think I can't handle it, either. You both just saw me in action on screen."
Mike's jaw dropped and Bill gave him a hearty slap on the back.
"I told you it was her," Bill laughed. "I saw that movie twice before and I'd have known you anyplace. You're Bonny Boobson, all right!"
Gayle smiled to hear someone call her by the name she had made up for the film credits. "Yes, that's me," she giggled. "But you two can just call me Buns-or Boobs, whichever you like best."
Bill grinned. "Okay, Buns, whatever you say. My car's around the comer and I know a great place to go. If you like, I've got some glasses and a bottle of Scotch in the car. We can go right to a quiet little motel on the shore that I know. Maybe you'll even tell us your real name."
Gayle laughed. "Let's go. We'll talk about that later."
In a moment they were in Bill's car. She settled herself comfortably between the two men, noticing with a smile the big lump pushing against the trouser crotch of each man.
Both men tried to tease her into telling them her real name and even Gayle's hands on their hard cocks did not distract them. She insisted that Bunny Boobson was her real name and even gave them a hastily invented address and phone number in Atlantic City, promising to see them any time they called. She knew she could say and do just about anything she pleased since the next morning she would be on a plane to North Carolina.
The motel, as Bill had promised, was quiet and attractive, right on the beach. Apparently Bill frequented the place enough for the manager to call him by name and give him the best room, one with a view of the water, two double beds and an AM/FM stereo radio and television. Off in the corner was a small refrigerator filled with sodas and mixes and ice.
Mike prepared their drinks while Gayle found a good station on the radio. Bill settled back in the big, reclining armchair and put his feet up on the bed, watching Gayle hungrily.
She felt his eyes on her back and, a Scotch sour in either hand, she snuggled herself into his lap to feed him his drink. She could feel the swelling of his rod on the bottoms of her thighs and she squeezed her buttocks together.
He smiled at her lazily while she talked and drank, telling them the biggest lies about herself she could invent. The drink quickly went to her head and she knew she was talking loudly.
Quite deliberately, Gayle unbuttoned the first four buttons of her blouse so that all her ample cleavage showed to full advantage. She put her arm around Bill's neck and tickled his ear with her tongue. In this position her blouse, open almost to her waist, barely showed the pink aureoles of her nipples, although still covering the erected knobs. Her hefty breasts jiggled close to Bill's face and he licked his lips lasciviously.
"Go ahead, taste me," Gayle encouraged.
Bill nuzzled the blouse to one side and took the nipple closest to him into his mouth. His tongue curled around the pink flesh and squeezed it as though he were suckling her. A deep sigh welled up from within her and, lifting his drink from his hand, she set both their glasses on a nearby table.
Noticing young Mike near the bureau with his mouth agape, Gayle motioned him over. "I have two of them, honey," she purred, drunk both on Scotch and on the passion surging through her undulating body. She gripped her other breast in her hand and squeezed it, pointing the puffed and hardened tit right at Mike, who promptly put down his drink and hurried over.
He leaned over the chair and squeezed her tit in his hand, watching his father suck.
With his mouth still on her breast, Bill struggled to the edge of the chair and slid one hand under Gayle's knees and the other along her back. With a mighty push he got to his feet, holding Gayle in his arms. She lay back, her arms around his neck. His mouth worked on her nipple as he carried her over to the bed. She was giggling drunkenly and rubbed her leg along Mike's waist.
Bill laid her on the bed and laid himself alongside her, his mouth pumping her tit. His hands roamed over her body, squeezing her soft thighs first through her miniskirt, then sliding beneath her skirt to massage her soft flesh. She felt her blouse being pulled from her shoulders.
Mike knelt on the other side of the bed and began sucking on her other tit. Gayle writhed beneath their ministrations. She rubbed the backs of their necks, pressing their faces into her billowing bosom. Their tongues teased her nipples, making her shudder with delight.
She held their cocks now, one in each hand, and massaged them gently but firmly, pulling back their foreskins and passing her heated palms over the sensitive prick heads. She pulled Bill's toward her face, causing him to shuffle around on the bed until his cock dangled over her face through his fly. Since he could no longer suck her breast in this position, he licked his way across her flat belly down to her bush. Her miniskirt was up around her waist and since she wore no panties, her auburn bush glistened in the dim light of the table lamp.
Bill dropped his head between her legs and licked her twat, finding and sucking on her clitoris as though it were a little prick. She moaned in pleasure, still massaging Mike's prick firmly with her right hand.
She caught Bill's cock in her mouth and sucked on it with all her might, causing her cheeks to hollow and fill, hollow and fill as she worked. His mouth quickly brought her to a writhing, surging orgasm that soaked her thighs and the bedcover and filled Bill's adept mouth with sweet cream. He lifted his head and his wet mouth dropped open with the shock of his own orgasm.
Gayle saw his legs stiffen and felt his balls tighten against her lips. She knew she could bring him off any time now. She pushed Mike down toward her twat.
"Go ahead, Mike, fuck it. I'm going to suck this beautiful big cock, and while I do that, you can fuck me."
Without further urging, Mike swung around and positioned himself over Gayle's waiting hole. Gayle turned her upper torso to the side so she could continue to suck Bill's cock while his son fucked her pussy. Bill sat forward on his heels and put her head in his lap. She gobbled his stiff rod greedily as she felt the large prick of the younger man slide into her tight, wet hole.
He filled her with inches of his rod to spare. She felt the mammoth erection probing deep inside her and gasped with surprise. "You're as big as your old man!" she cried.
"Like father, like son," Mike grunted.
He thrust his hips forward and pushed the last few inches of his cock deep into her pussy. He withdrew it to the head, leaving her screaming for more. She gobbled on Bill's cock and thrust her hips upwards, trying vainly to push Mike's prick back into her pussy and Bill's cock deeper down her throat.
After a few moments of teasing her outer vagina, Mike thrust himself into her again. Gayle's juices-gushed freely as she came a second time. She clamped down on Bill's rock-hard cock, bringing him right over the edge with her.
His cream shot down her throat as Mike fucked her furiously. His strokes were hard and deep, leaving her breathless and choking on the father's salty semen. By the time Bill's limp prick fell from her mouth, she was screaming with rapture at every stroke. Sweat glistened on Mike's brow and his pants hung around his knees. He lay over her luscious body now, his weight supported by his elbows.
His hands squeezed her oversized tits until it looked as though her nipples would burst. He shut his eyes and groaned as his orgasm hit him. Gayle lay weak and exhausted by countless orgasms as Mike pumped his last drop into her clutching twat. Then he rolled to one side and lay next to her on the bed.
Bill was sitting on the edge of the bed, his cock tucked neatly back into his pants. Only a tell-tale wet spot showed around his fly. Mike too quickly hiked up his pants and tucked his shirt back in.
Gayle lay on the bed, a benign smile on her beautiful face. Her auburn hair spread across the pillow like dark flames. Her skirt was a wrinkled belt of cotton about her waist and her blouse was somewhere on the floor between the beds. She enjoyed basking in their appreciation of her flawless, suntanned body, and smiled at the admiring touch of Mike's hand on one of her huge breasts.
Bill got up and fixed another round of drinks for the three of them. "Care for another round?" Bill asked, passing out the drinks.
"Of what?" Gayle said. "I'll have another round of anything you've got to offer! You guys are dynamite!"
Mike and Bill exchanged sheepish glances.
"Well, you see," Bill began. "The trouble is, my wife and my daughter-in-law will be arriving back here in a half horn, maybe sooner. See, even though we live not far from Atlantic City, the company Mike and I work for is paying our motel bills during the convention. And both wives insisted on coming into town to spend the week with us."
"So you'd better get me the hell out of here, right?" Gayle asked ruefully.
"Yeah, well, finish your drink and all," Bill said apologetically.
"Can we call you tomorrow?" Mike asked.
"Sure," Gayle answered airily, thinking to herself, I sure wish you could, you fantastic stud! Aloud she said, "Anytime you boys want a break from the routine, just give old Bunny a call."
Mike drove her to a comer near her hotel. She kissed him goodbye, first on his lips, then, playfully, on his oversized cock, which began swelling at the touch of her lips.
"Just be a good boy and drive around the block," Gayle whispered from her awkward position with her head in his lap under the steering wheel.
She unzipped his fly and sucked on his reddened rod until he nearly drove off the side of the road.
"Pull over! Pull over!" Gayle cried, bumping her head on the steering wheel.
Obediently, Mike pulled to the curb and slipped the car into park, leaving the engine running. The streets were deserted and Gayle was able to take her time, using all the cocksucking finesse she had learned, pressing her tongue tight against the underside of his shaft and sliding his prick all the way down her throat, past the point where most women would have gagged. She slid the burning rod out of her mouth and lapped around the head of his cock before sliding it back down her throat deeper than she had before.
With a flurry of movement, she jerked her head up and down rapidly, fucking his prick with her tight, wet mouth and pressing the head with her tongue on every outstroke.
Mike groaned and stiffened, shooting a second load of come into her. She gulped and swallowed greedily, catching every salty drop and licking her lips as she sat up and tucked his limp, dry cock back into his pants.
He stared at her in disbelief. "Boy, am I ever gonna call you tomorrow," he promised. "Soon's I get a chance. You're not like anything I ever met in Atlantic City, I can tell you that!"
Gayle smiled and patted his crotch. "You do that," she said. "I'll get out here. I'm just a block away and I feel like walking."
Mike protested chivalrously, but Gayle insisted, telling him his wife was waiting for him back at the motel. He sat in the car watching her until she disappeared into a hotel across the street. She peered through the door until she saw him drive away, then she re-emerged into the deserted street and walked the two blocks to the hotel where she and the rest of the cast of "Speakeasy" were staying.
She had been fucked and fucked well, but she was wide awake and wanted more. The lobby was deserted except for a plump old man watching television.
"Want something, Miss Honeycutt?" he asked , her.
Yes, I want to get laid, she thought. Aloud she said, "No, thanks, Mr. Hennessey, I'm going to bed. Oh, there is something," she added, "Could you have some fresh ice sent to my room?"
"Sure, I'll send Sheila up in a few minutes," Hennessey promised.
In the elevator, Gayle idly thought about Hennessey and his plump but shapely daughter Sheila who had the night shift at the Waverly Hotel. Sheila had been watching Gayle during the whole five weeks the cast had been in the hotel. Gayle was never sure if it was just juvenile admiration for a beautiful actress, or something more. She had never bothered to talk to the baby-blue-eyed, pink-faced girl beyond the usual "Hello" and "How's the weather?" Sheila was blonde and well-rounded, with breasts and hips fully developed, far beyond her seventeen years. Her complexion was fresh and bright and she looked like a sturdy, attractive country lass, with a penchant for pink, frilly dresses that looked out of place on her lush woman's body.
Once in her room, Gayle showered and slipped her nude, damp body into a loose-fitting, floor length robe that was cut to her waist and showed her cleavage right to her bellybutton. She took a glass from the bureau and filled it with half rum and half Coca Cola, leaving just enough space for three ice cubes. Then she flipped on the FM radio, settled back in the reclining armchair next to her bed and picked up a book.
The words danced before her eyes, and she was about to throw the book aside in disgust when she heard a timid knock on the door.
"Come in, Sheila, it's open," Gayle called, laying her book aside and picking up her drink. Her robe had fallen open between her legs, showing a good deal of her shapely thighs.
Sheila entered and tiptoed meekly toward the reclining chair where Gayle sat like a queen about to receive homage from one of her subjects. Gayle smiled to herself as an image of shapely Sheila kneeling at her feet offering ice flashed through her imagination. In reality, she just motioned Sheila to put the ice on the table next to her.
"I've just been waiting for ice to make this drink cold," she smiled at the schoolgirl.
"Oh, I'm sorry I took so long," Sheila began in dismay, "but the ice machine was out of order and I had to take some from our refrigerator for you." Gayle was startled at the glow in the young girl's eyes as she gazed at the exposed flesh of the older woman. She felt more strongly than ever that Sheila might kneel before her at any moment.
Instead, the young girl picked three ice cubes out of the ice bucket and held them out to Gayle. Gayle put her drink under Sheila's ice offering and noticed that the young girl was wearing only a loose-fitting pink duster. The soft pink cotton was slipping off one shapely, plump shoulder and when she turned around to deposit the ice bucket on the table, Gayle saw the material had gotten caught deep in the girl's asscrack. She licked her lips absentmindedly, but Sheila noticed and smiled.
She stood there awkwardly, not wanting to leave Gayle, but unable to think of an excuse to stay. To her relief, Gayle supplied one.
"Won't you stay and have a coke, Sheila? You can help me celebrate the end of our run here."
"Well, I'd like that," she said. Her eyes lingered on the rum bottle and Gayle poured her drink and Gayle obligingly poured in half a glass of rum after emptying half of the coke from Sheila's drink.
"That's real nice of you, Miss Honeycutt, but if my father ever found out I drink alcohol, he'd kill me, he would."
"Well, he'll never find out from me Sheila," Gayle said, taking the younger girl's hand between her own as she gave her the drink and squeezing it.
Sheila looked up at Gayle with big blue doe eyes. "You're so beautiful, Miss Honeycutt, I wish I was as thin and gorgeous as you." Her eyes fell to Gayle's cleavage, which was becoming more and more exposed as the robe shifted around her body with every move she made.
"You are a very attractive young lady," Gayle said, feeling simultaneously maternal and ridiculous. She felt herself covered with embarrassment at the frankly admiring gaze of the innocent blonde teenager. Her pussy was rapidly getting wetter and wetter as her own grey eyes took in every inch of the girl's inviting, luscious body. She longed to squeeze those oversized, womanly tits, but the innocent expression in Sheila's eyes held her back.
She started in surprise when Sheila said, as if reading her mind, "They're really big for my age, aren't they? Lots of boys at school tease me about them, and make me mad."
"Oh?" Gayle stammered, gulping her drink and turning aside. "Do ... uh, do you like boys? I mean, do you have a boyfriend?" Her heart was pounding and she surreptitiously slipped a finger of her free hand inside her robe and rubbed her stiff clitoris.
"Yeah, but he's kind of stupid," Sheila said nonchalantly, scratching an itch on her breast and unknowingly exposing a stiff little nipple as she did so. She described her boyfriend and explained that someday they might get married, while Gayle moved nervously around the room, rubbing her vagina with all her might, masturbating herself into a frenzy over the succulent young blonde who by now was sitting on the big double bed.
With a little encouragement from Gayle, Sheila was waxing eloquent, even to the point of talking about the petting and necking she and her boyfriend had just begun engaging in.
"Do you think that's right, Miss Honeycutt?" Sheila suddenly broke into Gayle's fantasies.
"Hmm, what?" Gayle jumped, startled, poking herself uncomfortably in the thigh. "What's right?"
"I mean, do you think it's all right for Jimmy to touch me?" Sheila repeated.
"Touch you? Where does he touch you?"
"Oh, you know, all over."
"All over? You mean he touches you under your clothes?" Gayle asked moving over to the bed and sitting down. She set her glass on the table next to Sheila's and noted with satisfaction that the luscious teenager had finished every drop of that potent rum and coke.
"Yes," Sheila said, somewhat abashed. "He ... touches my ... he touches me here and down there." She indicated her heaving breasts and shifted her weight on the bed as though scratching an itch on her ass.
"Well, I don't know," Gayle said, moving closer until she was right next to the girl. "Does he touch your nipples?" She slipped her hand into the girl's bathrobe and lightly gripped her nipple between her thumb and forefinger. She pressed her hand into the soft flesh and twisted the hardened knob gently but firmly. She smiled to see Sheila close her eyes and sigh.
"Yes ... that's where he touches me ... only he grabs me kinda tight. Sometimes he hurts."
"I wouldn't hurt you, Sheila darling," Gayle fairly crooned into her ear. "You know that, don't you?" She squeezed Sheila's nipple and then opened her hand and massaged her breast firmly with the flat of her palm.
Sheila sighed again and said, "Yes, yes ... oh, he never does it like that. But is it all right?"
"All right?" Gayle smiled, taking the girl's other tit with her other hand and repeating her pinching and massaging. "Is what all right, dear?"
"Is it okay to let a boy touch you, you know, down there?"
Gayle touched Sheila lightly on the shoulder and she slid without resistance back onto the bed, supported by her elbows. Her little-girl bathrobe fell between her legs, outlining her inviting thighs. A little tuft of blonde pubic hair poked through the space between the buttons over her crotch.
"Show me where he touched you," Gayle said. Dreamily, Sheila put her finger over the tuft of pubic hair and said in a little-girl voice, "Right there. He puts his finger right on me." Her lower lip was thrust forward in a child-like pout and she looked to Gayle for the answer.
Gayle slid her hand along Sheila's belly and squeezed the hand over her crotch. Then she slipped her own finger into her robe, opening the button as she did so, and found the girl's clitoris with her index finger.
"Does it feel good when he touches you there?" Gayle asked, her voice a throaty whisper in the girl's ear. She moved her finger gently up and down, rolling the hard little knob along her finger and feeling the moisture beading along the edge of Sheila's small vagina.
"Yes," Sheila moaned breathlessly, "yes, oh, it feels real good!"
Gayle's finger made longer and longer motions up and down, until she was running it along the length of the dripping inside lips. Her finger was stroking the wet gash without actually entering the young girl's canal.
"Did he ever put anything inside you here?" Gayle asked, stroking softly.
"Oh, yes," Sheila moaned. "Once he put his thing in me and made me bleed. That hurt at first, but afterwards it was okay."
With a sigh, Gayle slipped her middle finger deep into the girl's twat and pressed upwards with her hand, applying pressure on her tiny but well-hardened clitoris. She then pumped lightly in and out of the pulsing little hole, her other hand squeezing and massaging Sheila's tit, her tongue toying with the girl's pink ear.
Sheila moaned suddenly, so loudly that Gayle 'quickly stifled it by covering the girl's mouth with her own and engaging her in a deep kiss.
She felt the girl's pussy pulsing around her finger and Sheila pushed herself harder against Gayle's hand. The young girl's back arched and her hips bounced against the mattress, Gayle's hand still buried in her twat. She moaned aloud, right into Gayle's smothering mouth, and tears rolled down her rosy cheeks. When she was finally still and quiet, Gayle released her, stroking her damp cheek with the back of her free hand.
She smiled down at the teenager and gently withdrew her fingers from Sheila's pussy and brought her hand up to their faces. It shone in the dim lamplight and a drop of translucent white moisture dribbled down her wrist.
Sheila gazed up at Gayle, her eyes full of wonder and admiration.
"He ... he never made me feel like that," she whispered.
"Well, don't you marry him until he knows how to do that," Gayle smiled. "Now I would like you to do something for me." Her own auburn bush was burning and she was determined Sheila would provide the final release she needed tonight.
She took the girl's plump white hand and lay it against her red bush.
"Feel that?" she whispered, rubbing Sheila's finger against her erected clitoris. "Touch it there, like that, oh, yes, honey, just like that ..
She felt her juices moistening her upper thighs as she pushed the girl's finger tightly against her box. Sheila's eyes widened with excitement and she continued to friction Gayle's twat without help. She kissed Gayle on the neck and lips and two fingers of her other hand pinched Gayle's nipple.
Gayle felt her passion rising. Her chest and hips were hot to the touch and the blood pounded in her head, drowning out the sounds of the radio, blotting out everything but the sight and smell of the innocent young blonde giving her a finger job.
In a flash, Gayle was alone on the bed, a piece of helpless flesh. She was dimly aware of a pounding outside her own head, like someone knocking on a door. She saw Sheila on her feet next to the bed, tying her robe shut, anxiously looking at Gayle. Her mouth was moving, but Gayle could not make out what she was saying, if she was talking at all.
"... father. He's outside! Oh, Miss Honeycutt, answer him, please!" Startled into lucidity, Gayle leaped to her feet and closed her robe about her.
"Just a moment, please," she cried. She glanced warmly at Sheila, who nodded meekly and stood fairly quaking, her eyes on the door.
Gayle opened the door to admit fat old Mr. Hennessey.
"Oh, so you are here, after all," he said. "I been knocking for a coupla minutes, but I heard the radio, so I knew you were awake." He glanced from Gayle to his daughter curiously.
Gayle was alarmed to notice the bright crimson flush that was slowly spreading up Sheila's neck across her face. Her mouth puckered and it looked as though she were about to cry.
"Well, I guess we had the radio on too loud," Gayle said, drawing his attention back to herself. "We were having a real heart-to-heart talk, Mr. Hennessey, you know, a real woman-to-woman." She smiled amiably at the old man. "You know you have a real sensible daughter," she added conversationally. "You've done a mighty good job with her, especially considering your wife has been gone for six years."
Distracted from his daughter's distress, Mr. Hennessey coughed and drew himself up. He enjoyed talking about himself and his "troubles" being a widower with a growing daughter.
From the comer of her eye, Gayle saw Sheila heave a sigh of relief as she realized her father had not heard and did not suspect anything of what they had really been doing. Gayle had art fully explained the situation to everyone's satisfaction.
"Yeah, yeah, it's not easy raisin' a young girl alone, 'specially for an old fellow like me, but we get along, we get along. Soon she'll be gettin' married and some nice young boy will be relievin' me of the responsibility, but until then ..
Gayle interrupted his monologue, "Yes, that will happen all too soon, I'm afraid, but for now, I think Sheila is tired and would like to go to bed, wouldn't you, Sheila?"
"Oh, yes, yes!" Sheila cried, and with a conspiratorial nod at Gayle fled from the room.
Suddenly alone with Gayle in her revealing robe, Mr. Hennessey coughed uncomfortably and edged his way backwards out of the room as Gayle advanced on him.
"Thank you so much for everything you've done for me, Mr. Hennessey," she smiled warmly.
His eyes roamed over her breasts. The fabric of her robe only barely covered her nipples. Gayle pulled her robe closer to her and gently guided the stuttering old man to the door. "If I don't see you in the morning, Mr. Hennessey, good luck and next time I come to Atlantic City, I'll be sure to stay here at the Waverly."
He took Gayle's extended hand and pumped it awkwardly. She continued to walk forward, edging him out the door with a friendly smile. Not until she had closed the door and heard his footsteps receding down the corridor did she explode.
"Oh, shit, shit, shit, shit!" She stamped her foot in frustration and flung herself down on the bed, only to jump up again. It was too late to call Chuck, so all she could do was take a cold shower or masturbate.
She positioned the mirror over the bureau, which was at the foot of the bed, so she could see her whole body. She threw off her robe and stroked her fleshy breasts, squeezing her nipples and remembering the touch of the inexperienced teenager's soft white hand. She shoved three of her own fingers into her pussy and watched her reflection with satisfaction. She loved the sight of anything violating her hole, and she watched with narcissistic fascination as the juice covered her fingers as they slid in and out of her box. She leaned back and pumped herself harder and harder until a low moan escaped her lips and she saw the mouth of her pussy opening and closing rhythmically as a gush of juice dribbled onto the coverlet, once, twice, three and then a fourth time. She lay back and welcomed the wave of relief and exhaustion that swept over her. Sleep overtook her before she had taken her fingers out of her cunt and she lay curled up with her hand buried in her twat.
CHAPTER TWO
Gayle settled back in her seat so the small round window was level with her eyes. The terminal flashed briefly into view as the plane turned. The engines roared and the plane hurtled forward. Scenery whizzed past until, with only a mild bump, the treetops dropped below her eye level.
Ahhh, she thought, after screwing, there's nothing like flying. Liftoff is like coming ... building, building, then release as you realize you're airborne.
"Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. Welcome abroad American Airlines flight 465 bound for Raleigh-Durham-Chapel Hill. We will be arriving at Raleigh-Durham Airport at one p.m. I am Miss Tien Yee, your flight directress, and on behalf of the captain and crew, wish you a pleasant flight. Thank you."
Gayle listened entranced. What a charming, musical voice, she thought. There was just a trace of an accent: an extra sibilance and a careful enunciation of t's and d's-the mark of a well educated foreigner. Gayle wondered what nationality the flight directress could be. Her inflection didn't even sound European.
She turned to the man in the seat beside her. "Can you see the flight directress, Henry?" she asked.
"No, sweetheart," Henry answered. "What's the matter, need a pillow or something?"
"No, I just want to see what she looks like," Gayle answered. "Her voice was charming."
"Turned you on, did she?" he cackled. "Maybe she'll swing with you. I've heard stewardesses are a horny lot, but maybe not for other chicks."
Gayle just smiled. She didn't mind Henry's teasing at all. In fact, he was her best friend. Onstage, he portrayed the Master of Ceremonies of the cabaret where the action of the play took place.
She reached over and patted his tousled blonde hair.
"Never you mind, darling," she purred. "If I need any help, I'll call on you."
Good-looking Henry always attracted a crowd of beautiful girls, onstage and off. It amused the rest of the cast greatly, since it was obvious to them, although not to the small-town people where their show played, that Henry was a happy faggot who would invariably pick out the men in the crowd to hustle. Sometimes his successes were surprising. At one stop he had gone to bed with the local deputy sheriff.
Gayle and Henry had been friends since the first production of the show in New York. She liked to recall the good times they had while Henry was staying at her apartment.
His lover had thrown him out and he needed a place to stay while he looked for a new place. Gayle, with four rooms, volunteered to put him up. During that time, she managed to put up with a few of Henry's lovers as well, some of whom were hostile to women, but most of whom were charming young men. More than once she had walked in to find Henry and some new boy in a sweaty tangle in the middle of her living room floor. When they invited her, she would join them.
Once she found Henry on his knees in front of a naked, muscular black man, laboring over his limp dick without much success. Gayle grinned at the memory.
The black man had jumped in shock when she entered, but she had smiled reassuringly. She saw right away that this man was not Henry's usual type, and knew she could help out. She took off her coat and dropped it to the floor. Just as casually, she kicked off her shoes and continued to undress, removing her dress, brassiere, stockings and panties. She kicked them aside and stood for a minute, fondling her own huge tits. The man's cock was quite hard now.
"Oh, honey, what a lovely mouthful you are now," Henry squealed. "Gayle, I'm so glad you came. I think we can all have a good time together. He seems to like you."
Henry covered the man's huge cock with his mouth. Gayle straddled Henry's kneeling form so she could kiss the black man on the lips. Her tongue dipped into his mouth and ran across his thick lips. His tongue pressed against her own and pushed its way into her mouth.
Henry's fingers wiggled up her thighs and disappeared into her moist pussy. She ground her lush body against the man's broad chest. Henry slid out from under them and rapped Gayle on the back of her knees, catching her as she fell back into his arms. He laid her on the white shag carpet and licked her pussy while holding on to the black rod. He moved aside so the black man could position himself between her legs and brought the man's cock to Gayle's waiting hole.
By now his rod had swollen into an enormous, foot-long, blue-black thing. Henry squealed in delight and immediately took as much of it as he could into his mouth.
"Come on, Henry," Gayle protested. "You had your turn at that. Give me that cock. Put it into my hole!"
"Suffering, sweetheart?" Henry teased. Nevertheless, he guided the huge erection into her pussy and buried his face in the man's asscheeks to lick his hole.
Gayle writhed on the floor, moaning. "It's so huge," she cried. "I've never felt anything like this. Fuck me, you big beautiful black stud!"
The black man was sweating profusely. "I'm giving it to you, baby," he breathed, moving his hips with increasing power.
He worked gradually to fit the remainder of his too-long rod into her packed pussy, increasing the depth of each stroke until his balls slapped against her ass.
Henry was enjoying his own orgy, licking first their connection, switching to the black man's ass, then back down to Gayle's twat again, sucking both her pussy and the man's big cock as it slid past her cuntlips.
Henry held his own big prick in his hands and was pumping on it furiously as he sucked.
Gayle's big tits quivered at the impact of each stroke the big man laid into her. Her auburn hair was spread about her on the white carpet. The black man's body was like a great shadow between their pale bodies and the white decor of the room. He was sweating at the mere sight of the beautiful redhead. Her twat felt tight and clutched at his pumping prick like a living thing. It grabbed his rod purposefully while Gayle moaned deliriously.
"Oh, I can hardly hold back," the man grunted.
"Shit, I can't ... oh, baby, I'm gonna fill up that sweet box of yours!"
His juice blasted into her, just as she felt her pussy clench in the spasms of orgasm. Henry pumped his prick harder-until his juice, too, spilled over his fist. He licked at their joined organs until their juices were neatly cleaned.
The black man slumped into her body and rolled to one side. Gayle could not resist a proud chuckle at the stunned look in the black man's eyes.
She smiled to herself.
"Penny for your thoughts, Gayle," Henry's voice broke into her reverie. She turned from her view of the clouds and smiled at him.
"I was just remembering that big straight spade you brought home last winter."
"What a doll! How could I ever forget him?" Henry cried. "Not that he was such a great lay for me, but he had the best grass I've ever smoked." Gayle was about to reply when she heard a soft, musical voice-the voice she had just heard over the intercom.
"Would you care for a drink?" A raven-haired, almond-eyed Oriental beauty was leaning over their seat, a pad and pencil in her dainty hands. Henry glanced at Gayle with amusement, and said, "Bourbon and water for me and my friend here will take anything you have to offer."
Her eyes glanced quizzically at Gayle, but her professional smile remained intact. Gayle ordered her drink and leaned across Henry's lap into the aisle to watch the stewardess take the rest of the orders from the cast.
She was petite, maybe about five foot three with shoes. Her skin was very fair and Gayle was certain the faint rose color of her fine, high cheekbones was natural. Her eyes were quite large, almost black, and more deep-set than is usual with Orientals. Her shining black hair was pulled into a tight bun at the nape of her neck, giving her an efficient appearance despite her sexy, hip-swinging walk.
When she had finished taking the orders from the cast, who were the only other passengers in the coach, she again passed Gayle and Henry on her way to the galley. Gayle climbed into the aisle and followed her, pursued by some good-natured if obscene ribbing from Henry. She wondered if the stewardess, Tien, heard any of Henry's remarks.
She found her alone in the galley, putting ice cubes into a tray full of plastic glasses. Tien looked up from her work and smiled at Gayle.
"Can I help you?" she inquired.
"No," Gayle smiled, "just talk to me. I love the sound of your voice. Maybe I can help you. At heart, I'm really just a frustrated airline stewardess."
This time Tien's smile seemed genuine. "And I am a frustrated actress, so you see how ironic life is. Since there are only three passengers besides the fifteen traveling with your show, it's not very much work. The other stewardess is helping me."
"Good," Gayle said. "Then you'll have some time to talk to me."
Without hesitation, Tien answered, "Certainly." Her almond eyes flicked over Gayle as she finished filling the glasses. The other stewardess entered the galley to take the tray from Tien. The little beverage cart stood ready in the aisle outside. Gayle stood at the door uncertainly.
The second stew, a slim blonde wearing a name tag reading "Carol," took the tray of glasses, set them on the cart and began pushing it up the aisle. Tien handed Gayle one of the glasses and indicated with a nod of her head the lineup of Coca Cola and rum bottles.
"Help yourself," she whispered. "I'll be back in a few minutes."
Gayle fixed herself two strong rum cokes and sat down in the crew seats across from the galley. She was lying with her feet up across two seats, draining her second drink when she felt a soft hand caressing her knee. She opened her eyes to see Tien smiling at her.
"That's really nice," Gayle murmured, her head spinning. Tien's hand slid up her leg under her skirt, past the tops of her stockings, massaging her thighs close to her mons. Gayle exhaled slowly and touched Tien's arm, drawing her up next to her on the seat. She kissed the young Oriental on the mouth, her tongue finding its way into her small mouth.
Tied pulled away. "We cannot stay here, the passengers might find us." She stood up and pulled the wobbly actress to her feet. "Here, in the galley. I can close the doors."
She pushed Gayle into the galley and locked the folding doors behind them. Gayle heard a burst of boisterous laughter and knew the cast of her show were getting drunker by the minute.
She leaned groggily over the tiny galley sink. With sure hands, Tien turned her around and lifted her miniskirt. She smiled when she saw that Gayle wore no panties, just a garter belt to hold up her stockings. Her auburn bush glinted in the bright sunlight streaming in the galley window.
The Oriental girls hands seemed to fly all over Gayle's lush, sensuous body, opening the buttons of her blouse, pinching her nipples, sliding down her sides, massaging her thighs. Tien's head was almost level with Gayle's shoulder. Gayle pressed the smaller woman to her full, shivering breast flesh. Tien took one of Gayle's hard nipples into her mouth and sucked, teasing the sensitive flesh with the point of her tongue.
Suddenly there was a knock on the door. "Tien! Tien?" It was Carol, the other stewardess.
Tien seemed undismayed, and admitted her blonde coworker right into the galley, where Gayle stood with her breasts and pubic bush exposed. Carol did not appear surprised. On the contrary, she cast an admiring glance at Gayle and went about her business in the kitchen, apologizing for the interruption. Gayle could hardly believe her ears and began to pay a little more attention to the blonde stewardess.
Carol was a slim Southern belle with a soft Georgia slur, and striking blonde hair cut to shoulder length. She was tanned and tall, with small firm breasts and hips. Her body was almost boyish, but her face was soft and fresh, as open as a child's. She blushed under Gayle's frankly approving gaze, and smiled.
"It's just that one of us should keep busy so the passengers don't come back here looking for anything," she explained.
"The only passengers you need to watch out for are the three businessmen in first class," Gayle said. "My friends in the show will probably be fucking and sucking all over this plane if they get much more to drink. Has anybody grabbed you yet?"
"Not yet," Carol smiled, "but I think I can see it coming. The other three passengers do make things difficult, you know."
"Sure," Gayle said. "So we have the galley and the whole coach section for our playpen. What about the cockpit?"
"Would you like to visit the cockpit with me when you and Tien have finished? I have to bring them their coffee," Carol said.
"Sure," Gayle said. What had been a routine flight was quickly turning into something interesting.
Carol slipped out the door as Tien sank to her knees, sliding the point of her tongue deep into Gayle's auburn bush, finding and probing her clitoris while her fingers stroked the swelling inner lips of Gayle's twat.
Gayle leaned against the counter, her breath coming faster. She felt Tien's tongue darting rapidly and firmly against her clit, just as the Oriental slid two small fingers deep into her hole. She fingerfucked the glamorous redhead to orgasm, feeling the clenching of her pussy on her fingers.
Gayle smothered her cries as she came, oblivious to everything but the small woman at her feet. Neither of them noticed when the galley doors were quietly slid back just far enough to admit two men, who lounged against the entrance sipping their drinks, watching with prurient interest.
Gayle slumped against the counter, having come twice more beneath the expert ministrations of the stewardess. Tien suddenly noticed the presence of the men and jumped to her feet with a panicked cry. Bewilderment crossed her face when the two young men simply applauded.
"Bravo, bravo! My dear girl, that was lovely," Henry congratulated Tien. His companion, a boy of eighteen, nodded approvingly and sipped his drink.
"You two voyeurs!" Gayle laughed, pulling her clothes together. "You probably scared the hell out of Tien. Don't worry about these two faggots," Gayle reassured the perplexed stewardess. "This is Henry, whom you met sitting next to me, and this is Billy, his friend and occasional fuck. They don't get into girls that often, but they do like to watch."
Still unsettled, Tien managed a weak smile, trying to regain her professional composure. "Can I get you a drink?"
"Thanks, honey," Henry answered, "but I think we'll just help ourselves."
With that, he and Billy opened several of the miniature Scotch bottles and emptied them into some glasses. Gayle led Tien out of the galley.
"Just send the bill to our producers in New York," she told her.
They met Carol who was rolling the liquor wagon back toward the kitchen. She and Tien switched places, Tien taking the cart. Carol quickly explained the additional orders and motioned to Gayle to follow her.
There was a burst of raucous laughter as Gayle and Carol pushed their way through the members of the cast who were crowded around one of the seats.
"What's going on?" Gayle asked one of the dancers, a lithe young blonde of eighteen, appropriately named Pixie.
"It's Sadie again," Pixie sighed. "She got homesick again and started on George."
"Let's look in on this," Gayle said, taking Carol's hand.
They found George, a lanky, self-conscious stagehand of about forty, stretched out along the seat with his fly undone, trying vainly to push Sadie's hand away from his crotch.
"But George," the blonde protested, "I miss my husband so much, please, you gotta help me out."
George's prick was long and lean, like his body. His face was scarlet and he tried to force his stiff rod, Sadie's hand tightly clutching it, back into his fly.
"Go on, George, give her a break," a voice from the crowd prompted. "You're the only man in the cast who hasn't balled her."
Sadie was a hefty blonde comedienne from the Bronx, with big hips and thighs, and boobs of a size Gayle had never seen before on a woman. Right now, one of her massive mammaries was squeezed over the top of her low-cut blouse. She was nude from the waist down, revealing a pubic bush as black as her hair was blonde. Her globular asscheeks hovered over George's thin loins, threatening at any moment to cover that lanky cock of his with their smothering sweetness.
George's faltering erection quivered in her red fingenailed hands, and she bent over, her bare ass facing the aisle full of voyeurs. She put the head into her mouth and bobbed up and down amid encouraging cheers from her friends.
"Come on," Gayle whispered to Carol. "I've seen this show before and I'm eager for some action myself."
Carol led the way through first class, closing the sliding doors carefully behind them so the three crewcut businessmen playing poker in the lounge area near the cockpit would not see the wild scene going on in coach.
With demure smiles to the absorbed businessmen, the two women quietly entered the cockpit, suddenly finding themselves in a world of gauges and dials with an exciting view of sky and clouds before them.
The copilot, a good-looking man in his middle forties, turned and smiled at them. "Who's your gorgeous friend, Carol?" he asked.
"This here's Gayle Honeycutt, the actress," Carol said. "Where've you been anyway, Dan? Don't you know we've got the whole touring cast of 'Speakeasy' on board? Gayle's the star of the show."
"Well, well," Dan mused. "Does she swing?"
"Swing!" Gayle exclaimed. "I haven't heard that word since I left the suburbs and headed for New York six years ago! Oh, you airline people are years behind the times, as usual!"
She squeezed her way past Carol and wriggled into his lap. The pilot looked in their direction in consternation. Gayle flashed him a brilliant smile.
"I'll be careful, I promise," she said gaily.
The pilot looked to her like an airline advertisement. He was fatherly looking, with greying temples and a lined but lively face. His eyes were dark and quite captivating. He wore his uniform jacket, although the copilot, Dan, was in his shirtsleeves. He looked official, correct, and very competent. Gayle wished she had climbed into his lap.
Carol sidled up to the pilot and said, "Hi, Bill. Gayle and I thought you might be looking for a little break in the monotony. I found Gayle doing a trick with Tien in the galley. Gayle told me she also wanted to see how the plane flies."
"By itself," Dan said, running his calloused hand up Gayle's thigh. Carol stroked Dan on the back of his neck and smiled at him.
Gayle slipped off his lap and put her hand on the captain's thigh. Dan occupied himself with Carol, running his hands under her demure stew's uniform until both his arms disappeared beneath her skirt. She shut her eyes and groaned. He stood up, and copilot and stewardess moved to the back of the cabin.
The pilot threw a switch overhead, moved a dial in front of him, then turned his attention to Gayle, who was massaging the growing bulge in his pants. Although she was turned on, she was enraptured with the view outside. Clouds were passing beneath them and the brilliant sunlight streamed in the cockpit window. When she pressed her nose against the cold glass, she could see the dark curve of the earth below.
"Like the view?" Bill asked.
"Yes," Gayle exclaimed. "Next to screwing, I love flying best!"
"Well, how would you like to screw and fly?" the pilot smiled.
"Heaven!" Gayle grinned back at him, tossing her glistening auburn hair.
Carol was pressed against the door of the cockpit, Dan in front of her. Gayle knew from the grinding motions of Dan's hips that Carol was getting a good fuck from the horny copilot of the jumbo jet.
She unzipped Bill's fly, allowing his prick to pop out into the sunlight, a stiff, bobbing rod almost a foot in length.
"Can I have a taste?" Gayle asked, bringing her face to his lap. Without waiting for an answer, she dipped her head into his lap, covering the red shield of his cock with her lips and pressing her lips lower on the shaft until she was sucking on its entire length, save two inches. She gobbled greedily, but in vain. The mammoth rod could not be contained in her mouth. Coughing and gagging, she labored over his prick, her head flying up and down in his lap.
His hands strayed to her tits and he unbuttoned her blouse to massage her hard nipples. Tears streamed down Gayle's face as she choked on his rod. Her tongue firmly pressed its underside and teased the crown on every upstroke.
Finally Bill lifted her off his cock. He raised her skirt so that her naked pubic bush glowed in the stark sunlight. She straddled his lap, holding her twat over his erect phallus.
She arched her torso until the tip of his rod poked its way into her pussy. Carefully, she settled herself down, easing the huge thing inside her.
"Oh, no!" she groaned. "I feel like a damn virgin, your cock is so big!"
Her pussy was stretching to its utmost to accommodate the large rod and she felt a momentary twinge of pain. Her trickling juices eased the friction as she worked it more deeply into herself.
The pilot was thrusting impatiently, trying to hurry the agonizing descent of her pussy. Gayle was determined to take every bit of that beautiful rod into her. Slowly but surely, it disappeared into her hole.
She heard a whimpering from the rear of the cockpit and saw from Carol's contorted face that the couple was reaching their climax already. She shut her eyes and slid lower until she felt the material of his trousers against the backs of her thighs. He thrust upwards roughly, slapping his groin against her crotch, forcing the last inch of his rod deep into her pussy.
"Yes! Yes! Fuck me! Screw my pussy!" Gayle shrieked. Her pussy squeezed his prick and Bill took her nipple between his teeth, teasing the tip with his tongue as he fucked her.
"Oh, I'm coming, I'm...." Gayle's words were lost as she felt herself being thrown skywards. She felt herself floating off his lap, the tip of his cock suddenly at the outer lips of her pussy. In the next instant, she was slammed down hard on his rod, its tip pushing mightily against her cervix. She fell backwards against the control panel, still impaled on the mammoth rod of the jet pilot. Suddenly she was airborne again, floating in space at the tip of his cock.
Carol and Dan had been thrown to the floor and Dan was struggling on his hands and knees to reach his seat. Bill was groaning, come splashing out of his cock into Gayle's cunt. At the same time, he was trying to push the actress to one side so he could get at the controls of the big plane.
Dan reached the panel before the captain did, and climbed into his seat, throwing a switch as he did so. His pants hung around his ankles and his dick was sinking, white cream still streaked across it.
Carol lay on the floor rubbing her jaw where she had knocked it into Dan's shoulder at the first jolt of turbulence.
Gayle was bewildered. Her shoulders ached where she had struck the instrument panel, but her pussy still felt warm and itchy-desiring more fucking. The plane was still bouncing roughly.
"Ladies and gentlemen, this is the captain speaking," Dan said, winking at Bill. His voice was as calm as ever, despite his awkward nudity. "We have encountered a little turbulence, nothing to worry about. But we have turned on the seat belt sign and suggest that you return to your seat and fasten your belts. We should be clear in a few minutes. Thank you."
The captain, seemingly unconscious beneath Gayle, groaned, opening his eyes.
"That was a good performance, Dan," Gayle laughed. "You sounded so cool and collected. I didn't know what hit me," she added. "I thought I was having the orgasm of my lifetime."
Bill grinned at her. "That was some unexpected turbulence, but it threw an extra little fillip to our screwing."
"Well it sure didn't do anything for me," Carol said, indicating the small red bruise on her jaw where she had hit Dan's shoulder. "We'd already come and were trying to get ourselves together. Oh, damn, I'd better go see about the passengers." She stood up, smoothed her uniform, and with a pat to her still immaculate hairdo, disappeared into the first class cabin, shutting the door behind her.
Gayle got off the pilot's lap, but held on to the back of his seat for support. The plane was still lurching, but it appeared that the worst was over.
She smoothed her clothes and hair with one hand while the pilot and Dan tucked themselves back into their navy blue uniform pants. Dan resumed his position in the copilot's seat, looking as if he had never been interrupted. Gayle moved behind his seat, leaning over to undo his belt once again.
"Hey, what's going on?" he protested. "Haven't you had enough?"
"I never get enough," Gayle said calmly, unzipping his fly. "But don't worry, you won't even have to get up this time."
She squeezed herself into the space between his seat and the wall and knelt down. His limp cock rested against his thigh and she took the tip of it between her lips, running her hands along the insides of his thighs.
Little by little, she took the whole of his dick into her mouth, working at the sensitive head until she was rewarded for her efforts and his cock stiffened into the hard rod that had just fucked the blonde stewardess.
She could faintly taste Carol on him as her lips pressed tightly against his rod. She stroked his balls and sucked until she managed to bring the middle-aged man to a second orgasm, swallowing what Carol had left of his sperm quickly and licking her lips with relish when she was finished.
He patted her on her luxurious hair. "You're really a wild chick," he said.
"You haven't seen the end of it yet," she smiled, moving over to Bill's seat.
Bill watched her, dry-lipped with anticipation. She was gratified to see the hefty bulge in his trousers. Obviously he had greater recuperative powers than his slightly older copilot. He licked his lips and Gayle smiled, stroking him gently.
She unzipped his fly and pushed the cloth aside to allow his big cock to bob free. She stroked his shaft with her tongue, licking him in short, firm strokes, around the head and underside. She gripped his hairy balls, squeezing them gently and dabbing them from time to time with her tongue.
When she had teased him this way for several minutes, she allowed the tip to slip past her wet lips and sucked it noisily. She wrapped her fingers around his cock, pulling his balls tightly forward. She fucked his rod with her mouth, using her hands to hold it upright. Her cheeks hollowed on every outstroke, so great was her suction.
While Gayle worked on Bill's dick, the copilot was flying the plane, sweating profusely. His eyes kept moving from the controls to Gayle, then back again. He rubbed his own rod a few times, but it remained a soft thing against his thigh.
Bill's cock was as hard as ever. It jutted up, rigid as steel, bumping the back of her throat. A strange sort of gurgling sounded in his throat just as he squirted a stream of come into Gayle's mouth.
She gagged, but managed to gobble everything that came from him, licking her lips at the last few drops and leaving his fading rod dry and shining. She patted his dick before tucking it back into his uniform trousers.
He murmured something incomprehensible and got up, patting Gayle on the cheek. He staggered to the door of the cockpit and stopped, trying to collect his wits and straighten out his uniform.
"I need some coffee," he muttered.
"You'd better not be seen looking like that," Gayle laughed. She was pleased with herself. She had finally turned the correct and efficient airline pilot into a disheveled wreck. His uniform was rumpled and his collar was open. Two large stains showed under his sleeves and the pepper-and-salt hair that Gayle admired was all over the place.
She took a comb from her blouse pocket and ran it through his short hair. She fixed his collar and tie and stood back to criticize her work. There was nothing she could do about the perspiration marks under his arms, but except for that and his obvious fatigue, he looked as spruce as ever.
Tien entered the cockpit behind them, bearing a tray of coffee.
"Just what we needed," Bill said, taking his seat once more. "I've just been done in by the most expert cocksucker I've ever met!"
They sipped their coffee for a while. Gayle asked many questions about flying the jumbo jet, and they were pleased to answer her.
"I wish I could fly," she finally sighed. "After sex, flying is the best thing in the world "
"You could learn to fly," Bill said. "But I learned in the Air Force. It's tough for a woman to get a commercial license, since most commercial pilots get their training in the military and they still don't train women in the military for something useful like this yet."
"I know," Gayle agreed. "Getting a license privately is too damned expensive."
"You could skydive," Tien spoke up. "It's pretty cheap, about four dollars a jump once you know how."
CHAPTER ONE
"Have you ever jumped?" Gayle turned to her excitedly. "How much does it cost to learn?"
"About sixty dollars through your first jump. That's mostly instructor's fees. Then you have to rent your equipment and parachute. There's a jump school near my home in Chapel Hill where-"
"Your home?" Gayle cried. "You live in Chapel Hill?"
"Yes," Tien answered. "I have an apartment near the university which I share with a girlfriend, a student at the university. It's very lovely."
"Very lovely indeed," Gayle laughed. "I'll be in Raleigh for a month. We'll have to get together."
"Oh, yes," Tien smiled. "I may call you at the theater?"
"You may!" she said. "Our show runs from eight to ten-fifteen. Those are the only hours I can't come to the phone. It's Barker's Theater. Don't forget. We can go skydiving together."
"Certainly," Tien said. "I'm about to make my second freefall. If I have company, perhaps I'll be more inspired to go through with it. I'll give you a good book to learn about it. I have it in my flight bag. You can return it to me at the end of next week, when I return to my apartment."
"Good, then you will come to see my show," Gayle said. "I'd love to have you as my guest." She turned to the pilot and copilot. "I'd like to return to my friends," she told them. "Thanks for the flying lesson."
Tien accompanied her back to the cabin, passing the three imperturbable businessmen as they crossed First Class.
They entered the coach section to find clothes all over the aisle and hanging from the overhead compartments. All the pillows and blankets had been pulled down and were strewn about the seats and aisles. The liquor cart stood halfway down the aisle, pitifully devoid of all liquor, ice and glasses, partially covered where a blanket from the neighboring seat had caught on the corner. Gayle noticed Carol at the rear of the plane, wringing her hands in dismay.
They saw naked flesh and bodies, and heard groans and whispers from the seats. Gayle nudged Tien to look down-there was George, his limp, come-covered dick in his hand, nude, partially covered by a blanket, snoring loudly.
The first row opposite George was vacant. Gayle and Tien sat there, laughing. They heard Sadie two rows behind them, "But honey, don't fail me now. I need to do it again, don't you see?" Gayle smiled. "We could join them," she told Tien.
"No," Tien replied. "I have to keep an eye on things. The three first class passengers might call. You and I can have quite a nice time right here, by ourselves."
"Fine with me," Gayle said, fondling Tien's small breast through her uniform blouse. "I'll have to visit your apartment in Chapel Hill and meet your roommate."
"Oh, yes," Tien smiled, her cheeks flushing with every stroke of Gayle's hand. "You'll love Susan ... and she will be crazy for you, too...."
Her voice trailed off and soon the only sounds in the plane were soft moanings from coach and the slap of playing cards from first class.
CHAPTER THREE
Gayle slammed her skydiving book shut in disgust. She could see Ogden Graham crossing the wires and scenery strewn backstage, heading for her with a big leer on his face.
The first part of Act II was the only part of the show where she was offstage for more than five minutes at a time, and even now she only had ten minutes of her twenty-five interlude left to enjoy.
She opened her book again and pretended to be absorbed, but warily watched him step over the ropes and wires crisscrossing the floor. He was rubbing his cock, his eyes on her body.
That is too much, Gayle thought angrily. She slammed her book shut again and stood up. He stopped walking, watching her, still smiling. Very deliberately, she turned her back on him and walked past the prop room, down the corridor to her dressing room where she shut and locked the door behind her.
Too bad he had to get the message that way, Gayle thought, but enough is enough. He hasn't left me alone since we walked through the door of the theater yesterday afternoon. It's just too bad that he's the Theater Manager. It would be best to have stayed in his good graces.
Gayle had always made it a point to befriend the Theater Manager on each stop of the tour, fully aware of the numerous benefits such a friendship often yielded on both sides. From her limited experience with Ogden Graham, she knew that there was no way they could get along.
He was overweight and slovenly, with a bawling voice which he often used on his employees. Gayle had already heard him scolding his secretary, insultingly, stopping just short of using vile language, but leaving his intentions obvious and his secretary in tears.
He bullied his stagehands too, the five local high school boys who did much of the dirty work, helping to set up lights and scenery for the opening which was to take place that night.
Gayle hated that kind of cowardly bully women and boys. But she was one woman who would not be bullied, and when he learned that, there would have to be some kind of a showdown between them.
She knew she had the aces, being the very successful leading lady of the hit show. More importantly, she knew she was popular with the producers in New York as well.
Nevertheless, hostility between her and the Manager would make the duration of the run unnecessarily difficult. She resolved to be courteous and say little. Only, she would not be pawed as if she were a fuck-me doll.
He had already slapped her fanny once. Her icy stare and "I beg your pardon," although it startled him, did not terminate his annoying attentions. Thereafter, Gayle had to move out of his way to avoid stroking, patting and other little sex teases from the obnoxious man.
The thought of sex with the gross loudmouth made Gayle shiver. She heard through the theater grapevine that he had driven his wife to flee to Canada. She didn't think she needed to protect herself from him, but she decided to ask around to see just how dangerous an enemy he could be.
She heard a tapping on her door.
"Miss Honeywell? You're on in five," said a young male voice outside her door.
She opened it, startling the freckled, towheaded boy, who gaped admiringly at her.
"They-uh-they told me to knock for you," he stammered, blushing from his neck to his hairline, line.
"You're a nice young man," she said. "What's your name?"
"Louie," he said, looking at her shoes.
"Well, it's nice to meet you, Louie. Maybe I'll see you later," she said. She picked up a small beaded purse, her hand prop for the next scene, and closed her door.
She passed him with a smile, swaying her hips beneath the short 1930's-style beaded dress. She could feel the boy's furtive eyes on her ass.
I'm terrible, she thought, unrepentant. I just love to tease kids, boys as well as girls. She thought of Sheila, the luscious daughter of the fat old hotel-keeper, and licked her lips.
Henry was onstage finishing up his introductory song, almost to the cue line for her entrance. She felt a pat on her fanny and smelled, before she saw, Ogden Graham, breathing heavily, his flushed face just inches from her own.
"Hello, Miss High-and-Mighty," he wheezed. "Have a good entrance."
Before she could stop him he patted her again on her rear end, pushing her onstage for her entrance, just as the piano played her introduction.
She could have ignored it; after all, she was supposed to enter just at that moment. But she knew that if she let him get away with an inch, he would take a mile.
"Just a moment," she cried in her loudest stage voice, a feminine but strong voice that carried to the back row and into the lobby of the 250-seat theater.
"Mr. Graham," she said, facing him in the wings, herself in clear view in the middle of the stage. "I really don't have time to play games with you. If you want to fuck, ask! I can assure you, I don't screw around with my bread and butter, so how about leaving your hands off of me!" There was dead silence in the theater at her words. The orchestra stopped and all the actors and stagehands turned to see. At the end of her outburst, one of the young helpers tittered; then someone in the orchestra chuckled.
Even in the dim, offstage light, Gayle could see the flush that suffused Graham's face. With an imperious gesture, she turned to the orchestra and waved them to begin her song.
They started doubtfully, but as soon as Gayle began singing, they played with gusto and the rehearsal perked up. Gayle had become Gypsy, the cabaret girl, and Henry was Gene, the Master of Ceremonies. They did their songs supported by a chorus line of five leggy, beautiful girl dancers, and when the routine ended, they held their final pose for the curtain.
Gayle stole a glance to the wings and was relieved to find Ogden Graham had gone.
The little cabaret curtain descended and Henry whispered, "Was that wise, dear? You may need him, you know."
"Oh, I know, Henry, and I hate to have a bad word about me to the producers, but he's such a damned creep!"
"Anyway, you have everybody on your side," Henry said. "I heard even before we got here how disgusting this dude is. He makes a play for the leading lady of every show that comes to Raleigh."
"Well this is one leading lady he isn't going to get," Gayle said with determination.
"If you need any help, you can always call on me and Billy," Henry reminded her.
"Thanks," Gayle said. "I appreciate it. I only hope I never have to take you up on your offer."
They hurried offstage and the curtain flew up for the continuation of the act.
Both Gayle and Henry were on again immediately. The scene was the cabaret and they had lines together at a table at one side of the stage.
The action called for Gayle to drain her drink just before giving a crucial character line. It was the kind of scene in which she excelled, taking time after her first sip, allowing her face to change subtly to reflect her character's growing sadness.
Henry enjoyed watching Gayle in this scene. He had some good lines too, but the impetus and resolution of the scene lay with Gypsy, the freewheeling, lonely singer.
As he watched her, he speared the olive in his "drink" with the stirrer. Gayle gave her key line and toasted him with her "drink," bringing it to her lips and downing it in a single motion.
To his amazement, her face instantly twisted into a bizarre grimace. She leaned back in her chair, then pitched forward, spraying the table top with saliva.
"What the hell!" Henry leaped up and pounded Gayle on the back, thinking she was choking.
Her face reddened and she threw her hands over her head. Finally she regained her breath, drawing it in long, wheezing gasps.
Several members of the orchestra were smiling behind their hands. The other cast members onstage were staring aghast.
"All right," Gayle said, "who's been fucking with my prop drink?"
Her voice was raspy but her fury was evident. She was still wheezing, but her voice gained strength with every word. "I want to know who's responsible for the shit that was in this glass!"
"Is something wrong, Miss Honeycutt?" drawled a voice from the darkened last row of the theater.
Certainty was impossible, but the hint of amusement in his cool voice convinced Gayle that he knew something about her sabotaged drink--the vile-tasting, colorless concoction that she had unthinkingly swallowed in its entirety. It reminded her of the time she had been playing with her older sister's chemistry set and had swallowed one of the pretty-colored chemicals. It had made her sick then, as she felt now, and she wondered what she had just drunk.
"What the hell are you serving us?" she demanded. "That prop liquor tasted like dog shit!"
"Well, I guess you would know what that tasted like, Miss Honeycutt," Graham said oilily. "I'll send one of the boys for a clean glass."
Despite herself, Gayle's voice rose to a shriek as she felt a lump of frustration rising in her throat.
"If you want to get nasty, Graham, I can accommodate you. But it will make the run of this show very unpleasant for both of us. And it won't do your theater any good."
"Just remember, Miss Honeycutt, it's your show too. Therefore, I depend-we all depend-on your consummate professionalism to keep the show up to standard. We expect the same reviews you received in Atlantic City."
"My professionalism is beyond question," Gayle retorted sharply. "It's the petty, unprofessional attitude I've seen in you that's worrying me."
She got no answer to her retort and realized that Graham had left the theater right after his little speech. She felt suddenly foolish, standing in the middle of the stage defying empty space.
She slumped into Henry's chair, her fists clenching and unclenching. Bob Watson, the stage manager of the show, came over to the table. He picked up Henry's glass, dipped his finger into the liquid and put it to his lips.
"This is water," he declared, puzzled. He picked up Gayle's glass and performed the same test. Even though it was only a touch of the liquid in Gayle's glass on his fingertip, his mouth screwed up in a pucker when he touched it to his tongue.
"What the hell is this?" he exclaimed. "It tastes like piss! Louie, you fetched the hand props for me this scene. Where the fuck did you fill these glasses?"
"Out behind the bar in the lobby, Mr. Watson," Louie piped up. "It was ice water I put in those glasses, and a coupla olives."
"There's something else in Miss Honeycutt's glass and I want to know how it got there!" Bob demanded.
Louie stood in the aisle to the left of the orchestra pit. He swallowed hard and looked around, embarrassed that everyone in the theater was staring at him. His face reddened under his freckles.
"I swear, there wasn't nothin' else in the glass when I put 'em on the table. It was an hour ago, though. Mebbe somebody put somethin' there while everybody else was busy."
"I'm sure he had nothing to do with this, Bob," Gayle interjected. "I guess we all can guess what might have happened. Everyone knows Graham's been bugging me since we came here. He's out to get me. I just wonder what the hell he put in my drink and how the hell he knew which was mine."
"Why, of course," Bob exclaimed. "He knew the set-up. I explained it to him less than an hour ago. I had to show it to him to ask about the lighting for this comer. I hinted to him then that it wouldn't do him any good to fuck around with you, pointing out the next scene, this one, as one of your finest. Sorry, Gayle," he finished. "I thought I was doing you a favor."
He looked at her tired, white face and waved his arm to the cast and orchestra. "Take five, kids! But I mean five. Don't wander away. C'mere Louie." He motioned to the boy to come up onstage.
"Louie, I'm giving you a special job here," Bob said, putting his arm around Louie's shoulders and drawing him over to where Gayle sat dejectedly.
"I want you to keep an eye on Miss Honeycutt. That means personally checking all her props and taking care that no one bothers her while she's in this theater, understand? And we'll just add a couple of dollars to your pay at the end of the week. But this is just between us."
Louie nodded. "Sure, I can do that. I don't like Graham anyway. None of the guys do, except Sammy Graham, his nephew, who's just as fat and mean as his uncle. He's the kid who takes the tickets. He's got the softest job and gets the most money for it."
"Okay, Louie, were counting on you. For now, why don't you get Miss Honeycutt another prop drink for her scene. Then check with me for the prop list and look them all over," Bob instructed.
"Yes, sir!" Louie exclaimed eagerly, disappearing into the wings.
"Just be careful, Gayle," Bob warned her, .putting a fraternal arm on her shoulder.
"That bastard got me with my defenses down," she murmured. "How could I think he'd sabotage the show just to take out his gripes against me?"
"I don't think he'd sabotage the show," Bob amended. "Just rehearsal, where he thinks it won't do any harm. Shows you how dumb he is. Anyway, don't pull your nerves apart worrying about him, it would only hurt your acting. You've got little Louie to watch out for you and I think he's a bright kid. Keep him with you all the time. He'll be enough protection against Graham."
"How do you feel, darling?" Henry asked, coming from backstage and offering her a glass of Coca Cola. "Here drink this to get that taste out of your mouth."
"Thanks," Gayle said, taking the preferred drink.
The cast began taking their places once again and Bob checked off those present.
"Okay, kids, back to work. Let's snap through this rehearsal so we can have a nice break before opening tonight. George, have some of the boys help you with lights during the rehearsal. Just keep your wires and ladders confined to the very edges of the stage. I can't have them obstructing my dancers."
Bob walked around the stage barking his orders. Gayle sighed. He was one hell of a man, and heterosexual besides. All the actors in the cast were gay except one, the supporting male lead, twenty-eight year old, blonde Jim Cole, a man of medium height and an easygoing disposition, whose character "got" the supporting female lead, a thin-lipped, short-haired blonde model named Marina who was in actuality his wife.
Gayle's own leading man was a husky singer/dancer named Allen Nadler, masculine and strong onstage, but really homosexual-and a sadist besides. When he was in New York, he wore leathers and chains and hung out on the lower West Side piers. While on tour, he behaved himself in public, as did all the cast members. They knew they had to keep up appearances for their wholesome family show, as well as stay out of trouble with the local police.
The best parts in "Speakeasy" were Gypsy, the cabaret singer, and Gene, the perverse and Mephistophelean Master of Ceremonies, played by Henry. The secondary parts, although good characters, were not nearly as interesting as the two leads, who cavorted their way through debauchery and sin and managed to emerge "smelling like angels for the good folks down home," as Bob was fond of quipping, probably because the debauchery and sin of "Speakeasy" was only implied. The secondary leads were written to express the audience's morality.
The rest of the rehearsal was low-key. Bob, usually strict about lazy rehearsals, was indulgent today. He knew the opening would be up to par and preferred that the cast save their full energy for the show, although here and there he asked an actor or a dancer to show a little more work.
At curtain, he stepped out to the center of the stage and spoke to the assembled cast and crew.
"Kids, it was a good working rehearsal. Now take a break, eat a light snack-no big dinners, now-and get back here for makeup and costume no later than 7:00 p.m., 6:30 for the three girl dancers with the Third Act opening number. Your new costumes arrived this morning and Mabel wants to make sure they fit. Okay, lads, see you later!"
Laughing and talking, the cast broke for the afternoon. The technical people continued to work through the two hour break, adjusting lights and sound, sweeping, cleaning, finishing up repairs on the sets, doing all the work that goes into the staging of a major musical.
Bob motioned to Gayle. "Listen, honey, we need Louie to work this afternoon, but I don't want you here in the theater alone at any time. Why don't you let Henry take you out for a hamburger or something, hey?"
"I was thinking of seducing my bodyguard," she grinned at him.
"Aw, c'mon, Gayle, I need him to work. You can have him after the show, okay?"
"Maybe you too, Bob?" she asked him, still smiling.
"Maybe," he answered.
She and Henry left the theater for the comer coffee shop, glad for the opportunity to take a break.
"Do you really want to seduce Bob?" Henry asked her, once they were tucked into a booth, sipping coffee.
"Sure," Gayle said. "At first it bothered me, because I'm pretty friendly with his ex-girlfriend. I love to fuck, but I'm no man-stealer."
"But they broke up," Henry protested. "What are you waiting for?"
"He's waiting more than I am," Gayle answered. "He's still crazy about her, even though she left him flat. He just doesn't seem interested in me," she finished sadly.
"So one man out of a thousand isn't turned on," Henry shrugged, trying to cheer her.
"But what if that's the one man I just gotta have?" Gayle asked.
When they got back to the theater, Gayle took a nap in her dressing room. She was awakened by the pre-opening excitement and bustle in the corridors.
She felt a jolt of nerves and her eyes popped open as if she had never been asleep. She lay there, staring at the chipped ceiling for several minutes, songs from the show running through her head. Finally she swung her feet to the floor and sat up.
She rose to answer a soft knock, and admitted Mabel, the wardrobe mistress. Mabel was affectionately nicknamed "Mom" by the members of the cast. She was a solicitous, motherly type, who listened to all the personal troubles of the cast while she busily fitted and stitched them into their costumes. Unlike most wardrobe mistresses, she could be relied upon not to gossip. Consequently, she was the sympathetic auditor for innumerable love affairs, threesomes, marriages and divorces, besides lending her expert advice on childbearing and rearing when called upon.
She was about five foot six, with grey hairs occasionally showing among her dark hair, which was pulled back loosely into a bun. Her hair was thick and framed her face in a fluffy pillow, even when pinned back. She wore glasses down at the edge of her nose while she was working on her precious costumes.
Her eyes were kind, but sharply attentive, and her full face was very expressive, taking on a look of comical surprise whenever she pretended to be shocked or upset.
She was often witness to, but never participated in any of the wild sex parties in which the rest of the cast indulged. But she listened patiently to their problems, was good-humored about their orgies, and generally took care of all their ills, saying, "You actors are such children!" with a shake of her head.
Right now, she was flustered, and her hair was disarrayed, wispy ends falling about her face.
"Here, put this on," she said, handing Gayle her First Act costume, a clinging evening gown. "Imagine, I just got those three replacement showgirl costumes this afternoon! Tsk, tsk. Ah, you look lovely, dear. How do you like it?"
Gayle had quickly stripped to the nude and wriggled into her low-cut silver lame gown. She stood in front of her mirror, her auburn hair disheveled, her face pale from fatigue. The slim Harlow dress clung to every curve of her majestic body, outlining her form in detail. It fitted her slender waist and flared with her hips, sinking slightly into the crack of her ass.
She wore this gown in her first appearance on stage, reclining on a piano, singing a torch song that picked up in tempo halfway through, showing off the sexy, mellow quality of her voice as well as her ability to belt out a startling and brilliant show tune. It was another of the onstage moments she prized.
She smiled at the glorious reflection in her mirror. She knew tonight's show would be better than ever.
Sadie, clad only in black bikini panties and a man's hat and tie, reeled drunkenly toward the table where Gayle sat in her low-cut bathrobe, stoned and smiling at no one in particular.
"Did you see that fat bastard's face when Bob presented Gayle with her roses?" Sadie yelled. "He didn't expect anyone to remember the roses if he didn't buy 'em. The prick! He was actually gonna let opening night go by without giving roses to the star of the show. He never 'spected ol' Bob to second-guess him on that score, did he?"
"Hurray for Bob!" cried a juvenile voice from under the table crowned by the roses in question. The cast laughed.
"Louie," Henry drawled, "you can come out from under the table, you know. Nobody here's going to tell anyone you're below the legal drinking age."
Louie blinked solemnly. His cheeks puckered and he whistled, "But I'm not jus' drinkin'-I'm drunk!"
Gayle reached under the table and patted him on his cheek. "Maybe you'd better stop guzzling beer, Sugar. If there's one thing I don't like in my men, it's the smell of too much beer on their breath."
"Oh, look at his little dong!" Henry screamed. "You turned him on just saying that, Gayle!"
Gayle leaned over and looked under the table. Louie was trying to cover the erection that showed through his jeans.
"Oh, let me see, lovey!" Sadie screamed, dropping to her hands and knees and pursuing the embarrassed boy under the table and out the other side.
"Sadie, you're scaring him to death," Allen Nadler said. He was leaning back in his chair across the table from Gayle, a thick silver chain with an iron cross around his neck. His legs were slung across the seat of the chair in front of him as if to show off his sleek, tight black leather trousers. Every time he took a sip from his drink--vodka on the rocks-the four chain bracelets he wore clinked, making Gayle think of dungeons. She wondered what it would be like to screw a real sadist, but decided that she would be willing never to find out for herself.
"Oh, come on," Sadie moaned. "I'm so damn horny. Doesn't anyone wanna ball? Where's George?"
Allen snorted contemptuously. "Here, Sadie, here's a coke bottle. Have a ball."
"Marina and Jim are doing their share," Cindy Love, one of the girl dancers, piped up. She pointed to the comer where the young blond couple was sitting.
Marina sat on Jim's left knee, wearing only the barest remains of her third act costume, black nylons and a garter belt, and special black bikini panties with a zipper through the crotch, from front to back waistband.
They were tongue kissing, sucking noisily on each other's lips. Jim's left hand was pinching her small high breasts, his right hand was caressing her pussy. A wet stain was slowly spreading on the crotch of her panties beneath his inquisitive fingers.
He leisurely unzipped the sexy panties, exposing her crimson pussy. His fingers slurped into the wet hole and reappeared shining with cunt grease.
Marina moaned. Her nipples were like pebbles and her pussy showed startlingly red against the white of her thighs and the black of her stockings and unzipped panties.
Two of the gay boys in the cast were standing in the comer opposite the heterosexual couple, fondling each other's cocks and tongue kissing. The gay men and those of the girls that liked gay men were gathered around them, touching and kissing. Pixie was there, flourishing a vibrator that was almost as long as her diminutive arm.
One of the gay boys was sucking another's nipples and masturbating himself, his eyes on the kissing men, while Pixie moaned and managed to sink the tip of her mechanical cock past the opening of her pussy.
Gayle watched the scene with fascination. Allen had disappeared into the crowd of gay boys and she knew the sound of spanking probably originated with him.
The huge vibrator sank out of sight deep into Pixie's hole. The girl's face was contorted with the pleasurable difficulty of forcing the too-large machine into her pussy.
Gayle's attention was drawn to the boy standing in the comer with his mouth hanging open in amazement. Louie and Gayle were the only people in the room not yet fucking. He was standing behind her chair as if for protection, close enough for her to take him by the hand and draw him over to her.
She was pleased to see the bulge in his dungarees was bigger than ever. Still sitting in her chair, she opened her legs and drew the young man to stand between her lush thighs. She pressed her thighs against his legs and squeezed his hand reassuringly, knowing what a shock the scene must be to an inexperienced small-town boy like fifteen-year-old Louie.
He seemed nervous, but eager, and when he reached inside her robe to touch her breast and squeeze her nipple, his hand was cool with sweat. She smiled her encouragement as she opened his belt and fly, letting his dungarees drop to the floor.
She let her robe fall open, exposing her pussy and tits. Louie clumsily fondled her breasts, beads of sweat standing out on his brow and downy lip. His cock stuck out from beneath his baggy sweatshirt, charming Gayle with its respectable size.
She leaned over and took it into her mouth, suckling on it for several minutes. She was quickly rewarded for her efforts by spurt after spurt of boy-come, but his prick never got smaller. Although she seemed to be tasting almost a steady stream of come, his cock would only soften for a few seconds before stiffening again.
She left off sucking him and slid to the carpeted floor, drawing the boy down between her legs and pushing his head to her pussy. She told him what to do with his tongue and soon had him frictioning her clitoris as though he had sucked pussy all his young life.
She came as readily and as often as he had come and when she finally pulled him up to her and pushed his young cock into her hole, they were able to fuck for half an hour, each one coming repeatedly. While they fucked they talked and laughed, pointing to the other orgiasts and turning themselves on at the sight of the sex-crazed crowd.
Finally Louie had one big orgasm that left him a limp heap against Gayle's breast. She stroked his hair and looked down to find him asleep, his mouth on her nipple, sucking involuntarily every time she moved.
That was how Bob Watson found his young protegee when he walked into the room, laughing to find the cast in their usual post-show state, completely naked and wrapped up in each other. He had gone out with the manager's secretary, being inclined to privacy himself.
Gayle motioned him over to her, her pussy soaked but itching for more. With a smile, Bob lifted the snoring boy off Gayle and managed to carry him over to the couch. Gayle would not allow Bob to help her off the floor. She tried to drag him down to her.
"Come on, Gayle, this orgy stuff isn't my thing, not with this crowd of fags, anyway," he protested.
"Then let's go to your room, Bob," Gayle said. "I think you and I have held off long enough."
Bob hesitated briefly, then assented. "Okay, let's go."
By this time most of the cast had retired to their rooms to finish their chosen scenes and the Green Room held only four or five gay boys who were fucking in positions that would be impossible for ordinary men, arching over backwards, standing on their muscular shoulders and performing a variety of other odd acts. Gayle always liked to watch this kind of thing, but tonight she would finally have the man in the cast who turned her on the most.
A real, ordinary fuck with a real, normal, healthy man! she thought. That's what my sex life needs variety!
Gayle had never been inside Bob's room before. She was gratified to see that although the man was reserved, he was obviously a sensualist.
The bed against the wall was covered with white sheepskin and piled high with pillows. Bob threw a switch and soft music filled the room from the four speakers, one in each comer.
"Would you like a drink?" he asked her.
"Sure, whatever you're drinking," Gayle answered.
He unlatched a small cabinet near the bed and opened it. A portable bar popped into view, holding four bottles, mixers, some glasses and a jar each of cherries and olives.
"If you want ice, just lean down and open the door of the refrigerator," Bob said. "You're sitting on it."
Gayle jumped in surprise. She reached down between her legs and felt for the handle. She gave it a turn and the door swung open.
"I never would have guessed," she exclaimed, examining the woodwork that concealed the little refrigerator.
She filled the two glasses he handed her with ice cubes and watched while he poured their Scotch and sodas.
"Here's to getting together," she toasted him, touching his glass with hers.
He smiled and sipped his drink, settling himself back on the bed. He flicked a toggle switch that hung over the head of the bed. The overhead lights went out, leaving only the small, pink-toned glow from the indirect lighting around the bed to illuminate the room.
In the glow of the indirect light, Gayle was aware that she looked ravishing. Her face was flushed with excitement, sending a roseate glow over her high cheekbones. Her long-lashed eyes glittered with desire. Her robe was only draped around her soft shoulders and she allowed it to drop to the floor.
She got up from her perch on the low refrigerator and approached the bed where Bob lay, watching her almost hungrily.
With a slow smile, she leaned over to unbutton his shirt. He sat up to allow her to slip the shirt off his strong, well-muscled shoulders. Without a word spoken between them, Gayle unzipped his pants and pushed them down over his hips.
Bob arched himself to permit his pants to slide down his legs and over his feet. He pulled off his shoes and socks and tossed them aside.
His hand caressed Gayle's shivering breast as she undressed him. Now that he was nude, she had a chance to see him for the first time.
"I feel like eating you up," she told him, running her hands along his sides.
His body was perfectly, triangular, with well rounded, hard shoulders and a flat belly. His pectorals were well developed, swelling slightly. Gayle ran the flat of her hand across his hard stomach and down his flank. His legs were lean and beautifully shaped, not at all bony looking.
Gayle knew Bob was taking in all of her lush body too. His hands covered as much of her full breasts as they could hold and still her tanned flesh spilled over. Her full hips gyrated over his body as she lowered her head to his nipples and licked her way across his chest.
It was a labor of love for Gayle, who licked and sucked hungrily at the man on the bed beneath her. Carefully and slowly, she dragged her tongue down until she stopped to toy with his bellybutton. She took small, gentle bites to savor his flesh at his belly and sides, all the time drawing closer to his pubic area. When she felt his pubic hair brush her chin, she stuck her tongue out and quickly buried it in his hairs until she touched the base of his cock.
"I'm saving the best for last," she whispered. He smiled, suppressing the groan of lust that rose in his throat when Gayle licked along the length of his cock.
It stuck out straight up to his bellybutton now, steel-hard and burning red. The head of his penis was in perfect proportion to the shaft, which was quite long and thick to Gayle's hungry eyes.
Gently, she licked her way up its shaft until her tongue teased the underside of the crimson head. She nibbled the very tip of his cock, pressing her lips tightly together and pushing her mouth lower and lower until she took just the head of his prick into her mouth.
She sucked greedily on his cock head, her tongue darting playfully all over it. She slid her mouth farther down the burning rod, savoring the taste of Bob's hot flesh until she felt the tip of his cock bump the back of her throat. To her dismay, she found that she had only taken half of his shaft into her mouth.
She moaned and gobbled greedily, forcing more of his cock into her mouth, clutching his balls in her hands. She slid her head up and down, faster and faster, until finally he groaned and gripped her head, slowing her down.
"I'll come that way," he said. "Do you want me to come in your mouth?"
"Yes," Gayle panted, "I want to eat this beautiful cock until it cries into my mouth. I want you to fill my mouth with your come. Here." She shifted herself around so her pussy was over his mouth, her knees on either side of his head. Her nipples caressed his lean belly as she labored over his dick, once again gobbling as much of it as she could into her mouth. Her fingers toyed with his balls. She carefully worked one of her fingers down the crack of his ass until she found his asshole. She spat on her finger and sank it gently into his ass, still sucking greedily on his cock.
Her finger fucked his ass easily, although it was tight, slipping in and out cleanly. His cock had already passed the back of her throat and Gayle had to control herself to keep from gagging.
"Easy, baby," Bob said. "It feels terrific, but don't hurt yourself."
"I can't help it," Gayle gasped, lifting her face momentarily. "I love it so much. You taste so good. Do you like my finger in your ass?"
"Yes," Bob said, raising his pelvis slightly so she could press her finger deeper into his ass. "With that and with your fantastic mouth on my cock, I can come anytime. But I want to suck you first." So saying, he reached up and gripped her ass in his hands, pulling her groin down to his mouth.
The moment Gayle had reinserted his cock in her mouth, she felt his tongue hit her clitoris.
She choked on his cock, her hips immediately grinding down on his mouth. His tongue flashed across her clitoris once again and lapped at the inside of her swelling pussy lips.
She pushed her head down on his shaft, her tongue pressing tightly against its underside and curling around it. She pulled her head up, sliding his long dick out of her mouth slowly. It glistened in the dim light with moisture.
His tongue shot into her pussy and Gayle cried out, an orgasm overpowering her body. She shuddered, her groin pressing against his eager mouth, her juice pouring down her canal.
When she was finished, he rolled her over.
"My turn," he said, turning her onto her back.
He took one of her nipples into his mouth and the other in his hand and sucked. Gayle felt the head of his cock poking at the mouth of her twat and she twisted her body so she could catch it in her slit.
"There," she smiled, feeling the tip of his dick push its way past the outer lips of her pussy.
As he carefully slid his shaft into her, she arched her back against him, pushing her body against his. Her nipple dropped out of his mouth and he put his mouth on her mouth.
They kissed long and lingeringly as his cock penetrated her, sinking inside up to its hilt, pressuring her cervix with its mighty head.
She gasped as he fucked her a stroke, almost biting his lip in her surprise. His cock seemed to fit perfectly inside her, filling her pussy as it had never been filled before. When he drew it out and fucked her another stroke, she moaned aloud.
"Oh, Bob, it belongs there! Oh, why haven't I felt this beautiful cock inside me like this before?
Fuck me, Bob. Give it to me. Shove that beautiful shaft deep into my pussy until I scream."
Bob quickly obliged her, his hips pistoning suddenly. Gayle felt a surge of energy grip her loins and a scream rising in her throat.
Her scream burst from her lips just as her pussy exploded in orgasm, sending waves of juice down over his fucking shaft. Her cunt tightened and released several times, gripping his rod as he fucked.
No sooner had she subsided than he pushed himself to his knees, his cock still tightly locked inside her twat. The pressure on her pussy was almost unbearable at first, but when he gripped her under her arms and pulled her up to him, she orgasmed again.
She wrapped her legs around his slim waist and locked her hands behind his head. His hands gripped the soft flesh of her ass, moving her up and down on his shaft, almost as if he were masturbating with her body.
Gayle loved it. His cock tortured her with pleasure, filling her pussy and teasing her cuntlips with every stroke.
He pushed her back on the bed, this time taking her shapely legs and putting them up around his neck. Gayle felt his powerful body surging against the backs of her thighs. Her legs hung high in the air over her head. Bob fucked her hard, his cock again bringing her to orgasm in this new position.
His groin slapped resoundingly against her soft thighs as his cock pistoned into her, striking her cervix repeatedly.
"Oh, yes, like that! Do it to me!" she screamed. "I love your cock, that big motherfucker is killing my poor pussy. Bob, no, please...."
Her screams filled the air, mixing with the music. Suddenly Bob hoarsely whispered into her ear:
"There, there, you're getting it. Oh, you beautiful sexy baby, you, I'm going to fill that luscious pussy of yours!"
His juice exploded into her pussy, its hot stream pouring into her pulsing hole.
She felt his body stiff against hers like a ramrod as he orgasmed. She gripped him tightly, locking her ankles around his neck and grinding her twat against his rod, squeezing the last few drops of come into herself.
"Beautiful," she murmured. "Oh, you gorgeous man. How I love that big cock of yours. You really know what to do with it too."
Bob kissed her on her lips, gently and lingeringly, his tongue tracing a path along the inside of her lips before he spoke.
"That's a nice pussy you've got there," he said. "You just about wrung me out with it. You got the last drop I had."
"Not the very last, I hope," Gayle smiled. "I want to get on your cock again. You've spoiled my pussy for your prick tonight. Now nothing less can satisfy me."
Bob kissed her again, then got up and renewed their drinks with another shot of Scotch.
"I have something else," Gayle said, getting off the bed and picking her robe from the floor.
She reached into one of the pockets and extracted a small plastic pill case. Inside were two marijuana cigarettes.
"This joint will be more than enough for both of us," she explained, drawing one out. She replaced the case in her pocket and brought out a box of small wooden matches.
Putting the joint to her lips, she lit it and sat down again on the bed. She took a deep drag and passed it to Bob. He looked at it uncertainly.
"What do I do with it?" he finally asked her.
"You mean you never smoked before?" Gayle asked incredulously.
"Well, I guess, I mean," Bob stammered helplessly. "As a matter-of-fact, no, I haven't."
Gayle laughed delightedly. "Are you ever in for a treat!" she cried. "There's nothing like grass when you're screwing. You are going to find yourself in heaven in about ten minutes. Go ahead, try it. I promise you nothing will happen, except you're going to feel great, with no hangover tomorrow morning, either."
Bob put the joint to his lips and puffed, blowing smoke through his nose and mouth.
"No, no, not that way," Gayle laughed. "It's not a cigarette. You have to hold it in until there's nothing left to exhale."
She demonstrated, taking a big puff, holding her breath for several seconds until, when she exhaled, no smoke blew from her mouth.
"That way, you get it all," she told him. "Now you try it."
Bob puffed again, this time holding it inside his lungs until it had vanished inside him. His exhalation was as clear as Gayle's.
"What happens now," he smiled. "Do I become an addict?"
"Silly," Gayle laughed. "You'll just have a great time tonight, and won't feel a thing in the morning except maybe horny at your happy memory of the night's fuck."
They passed the joint until it was finished. Gayle pinched it between her fingernails to get the very last bit of smoke. She swallowed the tiny remains.
Her body felt loose and free. She felt as if the bed had become a magic carpet flying high above the ground. She closed her eyes and remembered the sight of the clouds passing beneath the airplane cockpit. She saw the clouds once again, only this time she was drifting on a carpet, and the clouds were not ordinary clouds. They were brilliant colors, scarlet, royal blue, forest green. The sky was a piece of black velvet, the backdrop for the changing, formless clouds.
Gayle noticed that every time the clouds changed color or shape, it coincided with changes in the music. The radio station was playing a classical guitar piece and when the music accelerated, so did the floating forms dancing before her eyes.
She began to feel the music on her skin, a gentle rippling sensation that began with a tingling in her ears and spread to her chest and torso, spreading out to her toes and fingertips. She felt warm and glowing.
The tingling on her chest became very intense. She opened her eyes to find Bob caressing her nipples with the tips of his fingers.
She watched in fascination as the tip of his finger traced the delicate outline of her aureole. As she stared, her aureole began to change shape. It seemed to shrivel, while the knobby end of her nipple appeared to grow larger and stand up straighter.
Her other nipple did the same thing. Both tips were hard like little pebbles. Bob rolled them between his fingers, eliciting a long, low moan from Gayle.
She took his cock in her hand and caressed it gently, drawing the foreskin up over his cock head as she masturbated him. She pressed him tightly in her palm, sliding his cock through her hand and drawing the foreskin down. His cock emerged from her hand erect and shining.
"It looks like a scarlet tower," she murmured. "I want to sit on it."
She climbed up over him, visions of clouds reappearing each time she shut her eyes. So she kept her eyes open, watching the beautiful man beneath her reacting to her every move.
Her nipples felt charged with electricity at his touch, and it seemed as if she had some direct connection between her excited tits and her pussy. She felt a tingle in her pussy as well as in her tits at every move his fingers made on her breasts.
When she touched the outer lips of her twat against his massive cock head, she was surprised to discover that her pussy was wet with new excitement.
She straddled his groin, taking his cock in her hole and easing herself down onto it. It hit her cervix with a bump. She swore like a longshoreman, her hips moving involuntarily in a circle to extract every bit of pleasure from his cock.
She raised herself long enough to look between her thighs. She saw her pussy lips stretched over Bob's thick cock, enveloping it. She watched herself slide down his shaft and then up again, leaving his rod glistening with cunt juice. It was rock-hard, even though they had only finished fucking a few moments before.
"See that?" she whispered. "Look at that beautiful cock of yours. It's like steel between my legs. Oh, I love to push my pussy down on it."
She fucked him just as moments ago he had fucked her, bobbing her eager twat up and down on his shaft, kissing his mouth. She sucked his tongue into her mouth as she fucked. He moaned and gripped her buttocks, helping her fuck, pushing her body up and down.
He pumped his cock into her from beneath her writhing body. Gayle felt the tension in her groin building. She shut her eyes and saw the colorful clouds, thick and heavy like storm clouds. Their color now was iridescent, flashing. Streaks of brilliant color flashed from the clouds like lightning. The glow behind her hallucinatory cumulus grew more intense as the pressure in her hips increased.
She opened her eyes and laughed. "Bob, oh, Bob, you crazy fuck, you! Do you know what you're doing to me? You're making my pussy wild for your cock. I never want to be away from this cock again."
She closed her eyes. The colors were blindingly intense. A bolt of lightning shot from the cloud, heading directly into her "eyes." It exploded in a rainbow of colors and lights that sent her reeling. Her hips were wrenched from her conscious control and slammed into Bob crazily. Juice gushed from her pussy and she was dimly aware that her twat was making a lot of noise as she orgasmed, slurping noisily against Bob's steel-like rod.
"Oh, no! Oh, no!" she screamed. She felt lost in a wave of heat that seemed to rise from her pussy. Bob's cock felt as though it were burning her. It seemed to grow larger in her pussy.
He had her ass in his hands. She felt her juices running down her thighs. Suddenly he yanked his prick out of her pussy and rolled her over onto her stomach.
"No! No!" she shrieked, but her body seemed to be crying "Yes, yes!"
Her asshole seemed to open to accept the flaming hot cock Bob thrust into it. She felt him sink into her ass right up to his balls. His cock was so lubricated from her pussy juice that fucking her was an easy matter.
Her ass was like a second pussy. She felt herself responding lustily to something she ordinarily found difficult. She ground her ass into his groin, savoring every inch that was crammed inside her. She could hear as well as feel her pussy reacting to his cornholing. It continued to gush juice, at every stroke, until once more she climaxed.
She twisted her body against his, screaming as she came, once, then a second time. Suddenly she seemed to be lost in orgasm. Her body seemed to be caught in the tremendous storm clouds she had been hallucinating, and she felt tossed and thrown in her ecstasy, her body not even belonging to her.
She heard Bob's voice over the tempest raging inside her, and felt a great surging in his cock as his juice poured into her ass. He held her tightly to him for several seconds, emptying his second load into her ass, then released her.
He extracted his shrinking rod from her ass and lay beside her on the bed.
Gayle's eyes were still closed. She was smiling, enjoying the vision of an intensely yellow sun emerging from the dissipating clouds, changing the black velvet "sky" into clear blue.
She opened her eyes and smiled at Bob.
"I don't know what you were seeing," Bob said, "but it must have been good. You were smiling like a baby just now."
"I'm in bliss," Gayle said, stroking his cheek. "I can't tell you how wonderful you've made me feel. Not only is my body smiling in every pore, but you're so good for my head. I've never touched a man as beautiful, as sexy as you. You could become a habit."
"Me and smoking?" he teased her.
They laughed, and their hands met and held each other.
CHAPTER FOUR
Her suntanned fingers pinched the hard red clitoris, rolling it gently between them. She kissed the wet opening and Tien exhaled in a long, deep sigh.
"You know so well how to please me," she said. "You're so exciting, so sexy. Kiss my pussy again, oh, please."
Smiling, Gayle kissed her cunt lips. She stretched her tongue deep into Tien's twat and rolled it hard over her excited love-knob.
"Oh, yes, again! I'm so close!" Tien gasped.
Gayle repeated her action, this time sucking deeply on Tien's hot cunt, pinching her tight breasts.
With a cry, Tien came, her pussy sloshing noisily, wetting Gayle's chin and pouring juice into her mouth. She licked happily for a few minutes, then moved up over Tien's supine body, pressing her billowing bosom against Tien's tits.
She kissed the Oriental girl on the mouth, her tongue still moist with juice. Their tongues exchanged caresses. Gayle kissed a path to Tien's pink ear and toyed with it, nipping her earlobe and poking her tongue stiffly into the opening. Her fingers again found the girl's still-wet pussy and massaged it in long, lingering strokes, teasing the inner lips without sinking her finger into the expectant hole.
Tien groaned impatiently.
"You like that, do you?" Gayle whispered. "Would you like me to fuck you?"
"Yes," Tien moaned. "Yes, fuck me, please!"
Gayle reached over to the end table next to the bed and picked up the dildo she had placed there earlier. It was a simple matter to pass the straps around her waist and through her legs. She pulled it tight so the rubber cock bobbed stiffly before her. She knelt up on the bedclothes between Tien's legs.
She spread the moaning girl's thighs, passing her hands over the bubbling hole, parting the folds and opening the lips to her caresses.
She slid to her elbows and knees and positioned the hard tip against Tien's hole. She thrust forward, sinking its bulbous head slowly into the moaning girl.
Tien clutched at the bedsheets, trying to push her burning twat down against the rubber rod, but Gayle held her hips in her hands.
She continued to tease her screaming Oriental friend with the rubber cock, bringing wave after wave of lubricating juice down over the prick sliding steadily into her, inch after maddening inch. She fucked carefully, almost sadistic in her efforts not to excite Tien to orgasm just yet.
She soon had what she wanted. Tien was gibbering, poised at the brink but not quite able to come. She screamed and clawed at Gayle's shoulders.
"Fuck me, damn you! Give it to me! Please," she begged. "I can't stand it anymore, please...."
Gayle broke off her words with a flurry of fucking-hard and deep. Tien creamed on nearly every inward stroke. She wrapped her legs around Gayle's slender waist and angled her body so that the cock bounced repeatedly off her cervix.
Although the rubber prick was not Gayle's own flesh, she could feel the helpless girl's ecstasies as the back end of the cock ground against her own clitoris. She heard the noise of Tien's pussy sucking on the hot wet rubber and thrust deeply, grinding her pelvis just enough to trigger off her own climax. Gayle came twice. She had lost count of Tien's orgasms long ago.
She nuzzled Tien's neck, kissing her ear. Both women shone with sweat. Tien smiled sleepily.
"I'm going to get us another drink," Gayle told her. "You just rest right here."
"How can you even walk?" Tien moaned.
"It isn't easy," Gayle agreed as she got unsteadily to her feet and made her way into the compact kitchen.
She put together two daiquiris, spilling them slightly as she poured. She carried them carefully, backing out the two swinging doors from the kitchen to the living room. She crossed the sunken room, feeling the shag of the carpet between her toes, and went up the two stairs into the bedroom on the right.
She found Tien rolling a tiny cigarette from a baggie of dried herbage sitting on the night table. "More dope?" she asked in happy surprise. "Sure," Tien grinned. "This is the stuff that got you so hepped up to begin with, so you can be sure I'm going to stone you again like before."
"You know what?" Gayle smiled, handing Tien her daiquiri. "I just love to hear American slang in your accent, with your breathy little voice. You sounded so correct on the plane, and here you sound so ... well, normal. Your accent is still there, but it's much more noticeable when you're trying to be professional."
"I know," Tien sighed. "The airline company likes my accent, so I talk that way on duty."
"Where are you from originally?" Gayle asked, sitting on the bed next to her and stroking her slim thighs as she sipped her drink.
"Hong Kong," Tien answered. "My mother and I have been in this country ever since I was four years old." With that, she sat up on the bed and lit the joint she had been rolling.
"When is your roommate coming in?" Gayle asked her.
"She had class this morning until half-past twelve. Since it's such a beautiful May afternoon, she'll probably take her time coming home. She didn't know you were coming today," Tien added.
"Neither did you," Gayle smiled. "I just happened to be out today, my first day off since we got to Raleigh, and thought I'd see what Chapel Hill looked like."
"But you haven't seen much of Chapel Hill," Tien laughed. "Just my apartment."
"It's a beautiful apartment," Gayle grinned. "Actually, it's the only part of Chapel Hill I really wanted to see."
Tien inhaled deeply, the smile on her face broadening as the effect of the grass came over her. "And so here you are. Lucky I was home. I wish Susan would hurry home," Tien sighed, smiling blissfully. "I'm dying for her to meet you." She passed the joint to Gayle, who took it without hesitation and put it to her lips. Like Tien, She took two or three puffs, holding the smoke in her lungs until she felt the giddiness of the grass overcome her.
Her pussy felt hot and moist. She reached between her legs and unstrapped the dildo, letting it fall on the bed near Tien's knee.
"That thing sure is fun," Gayle said. "I had it made specially for me."
Tien stroked the dildo as if it were a living part of Gayle. "I loved it. I love everything you do to me," she murmured.
"Good," Gayle said. "Because what you did to me on the plane that day was something I'll never forget. In fact, that whole ride was something memorable, wasn't it?"
"It sure was," Tien declared, shaking her head. "I never met such a crazy bunch. The whole plane was one big orgy from cockpit to tail section. Only those poor innocent businessmen never knew what was going on all around them."
"I know," Gayle agreed, "but I thought I'd die when Sadie wandered into first class stark naked."
"You thought you'd die?" Tien gasped. "Did you ever see such a scramble in your life? After you rushed in there and yanked her back through the curtain, I had to convince them that she was a mental case. Good thing you were dressed when she did that."
"Most of us were dressed by then, since it was only five minutes before touchdown. Just crazy nympho Sadie was still nude. She'd have gotten off the plane nude, if we had let her," Gayle chuckled.
"I had to do some pretty good acting myself when that happened," Tien said. "I was too scared to laugh then, but it's too funny for words now. Oh, the expression on their faces when they looked up from their card game and saw those big hanging boobs heading right for them!" Overcome with giggles, Tien fell back on the bed.
"It must have been quite a shock, all right," Gayle agreed. "I had to pretend to be her nurse, after that. Do you remember the way they looked at us as we got off? All three of them, to the man, turned around when Sadie and I appeared at the door of the plane. They didn't really believe we were nurse and mental patient, but they didn't know what else it could be! How could they have imagined there was actually an orgy in the coach section? Sadie had only felt sorry for them and was going to suck all three of them herself. "
"She really is a nympho," Tien giggled. "You were trying to look so stem. I don't think anyone but the most naive could have believed your act." She was overcome by giggles again.
"Most business types are pretty naive," Gayle said, stroking Tien's hard nipple. "Not all, but most."
Just then they heard a noise from the living room, and a husky but feminine voice without a trace of an accent called out:
"Tien? Are you here?"
"It's Susan!" Tien cried, relapsing in helpless giggles. "Oh, our clothes are strewn all over the living room. Wait until she sees us." She turned to the door and called, "In my bedroom, Sue, come on in."
Whatever she had visualized in her imagination, Gayle was not prepared for the stunning Susan Ho. She appeared in the doorway, an expression of mild and pleasant surprise on her face at the sight of the two nude women on the bed.
"I guess you're Gayle," she smiled.
She was exquisite-radiant. Gayle felt herself at a loss to describe the tall, slender Oriental who answered her frankly sexual gaze with a look equally frank and sexual.
Her sleek black hair was shoulder length, shaped around her face, bringing out her deep-set, flashing dark eyes. Her face was oval, almost thin, her cheekbones more prominent than Tien's.
Although her almond eyes and cream-colored skin clearly showed her as Oriental, she was dressed in jeans and a brightly patterned tie-dyed tee-shirt. When she sauntered over to the bed, it was with the casual, almost lazy gait of an American teenaged tomboy, although she was a girl of twenty.
"You butch?" Gayle could not help asking, looking up her blue-jeaned legs into her laughing eyes.
"I'm anything I choose to be," Susan answered coolly, touching Gayle's breast. She cupped it in the palm of her hand and squeezed it gently.
"Fantastic," Gayle returned. "Why don't you join us? I've heard so much about you I feel I know you already."
Susan laughed. "Tien has talked of nothing else but that mad flight since she got back. I've been looking forward to meeting you. Hey, I smell dope. Why don't you roll me some while I get undressed?"
Tien jumped to comply as Susan unbuckled her belt, her eyes and Gayle's still locked in mutual admiration.
"Let me," Gayle said quickly, undoing Susan's zipper, taking care not to catch it in her shining black pubic hair. Like Gayle, Susan wore no underwear. She pulled the girl's jeans to the floor and held them while Susan stepped out of them.
When she drew the colorful cotton tee-shirt over Susan's head, she was surprised to discover that the girl's breasts were almost as large as her own. The tall Oriental was so slim and her shirt so baggy, her full, stiff tits had been concealed. They jutted proudly in front of her, already erect and ready for action.
Gayle was gratified to see that Susan's body, although boyishly slim, was narrow waisted and very feminine. Gayle felt herself quite lush and soft next to the two slender Orientals.
She noticed that Susan had a tan all over her body except for a very pale mark where her bikini bottoms, small as a G-string, had been stretched across her hips and ass. Her tits were as tanned as her arms. Gayle wondered where in Raleigh the girl was able to sunbathe in the nude.
Gayle's face was level with Susan's chest. In a single motion, she took one of Susan's nipples into her mouth and the other between her fingers.
Susan was as eager as Gayle. She quickly pushed herself between Gayle's full thighs and ground her pelvis against Gayle's, fucking her lesbian-style, sans dildo. Tien sucked Gayle's nipples while her roommate fucked the sex-crazed actress.
Gayle was quick to come, so excited was she at the mere touch of the two exotics.
Susan slid her body down and laid Gayle back on the bed. She buried her face in Gayle's auburn bush. She pointed her tongue and ran the tip of it around her mound, moving steadily closer to the sensitive inner lips which she was pinching back with her fingers.
At the same time, Tien straddled Gayle's face, her ass towards Susan, so that Gayle could suck her while her roommate sucked Gayle. Susan could not resist the sight of Tien's lush pink asscheeks bouncing in her face. She pierced her puckered asshole with her stiff middle finger.
After a few minutes in this position, both Gayle and Tien were writhing ecstatically. Gayle completely succumbed to the pounding in her loins whenever Susan thrust her tongue into her gash.
She tongued Tien in the same fashion. Tien and Gayle orgasmed nearly simultaneously.
Both girls then struggled apart and playfully attacked Susan, as if they would rape her. The taller Oriental was surprisingly strong and it took both of them to pin her to the bed, protesting that she did not want to be fucked.
Tien got a belt from the closet and together they tied Susan s wrists to one of the bedposts. Gayle gripped her ankles and yanked her legs apart while Tien quickly fastened and adjusted the dildo.
With a single sweeping motion, Tien forced the dildo past Susan's tight pussy lips deep into her twat while Gayle held on to her thrashing legs.
They took turns raping Susan with the dildo, with their fingers, with their tongues, with anything they could think of.
Whenever Susan struggled too hard, Gayle grabbed her ankles and flipped her over so Tien could spank her ass with the back of her hairbrush, leaving shiny red marks on those shivering white cheeks while Susan wailed helplessly.
When they were finally through with her and untied her hands, she had fallen asleep, exhausted. They sixty-nined each other into orgasm once again. Finally they too fell asleep.
Gayle woke up around six o'clock that evening to hear Tien on the telephone promising to meet someone at two the following afternoon. Susan was gone.
She got to her feet and went into the bathroom, drawing a hot bubble bath in the tub.
Wearily, she climbed in and lay back, resting her head on a folded towel behind her.
"Gayle?" She heard Tien come into the bedroom. Her head appeared in the doorway. "Ah, here you are. I've got a great surprise for you."
As she spoke, she climbed into the tub and settled herself in the foamy water opposite Gayle. "You're going to fly tomorrow. That was a friend of mine who called to make a date. I have to work a shuttle flight tomorrow and won't be back until Wednesday, but I told him I had a sexy friend who would really dig a ride in his little plane. He's real proud of it. It's something he rebuilt himself."
The next day, Gayle found herself at a small open field with a long strip of asphalt that professed to be an airport for small planes.
She stepped out of Tien's car with a lass and a wave for the driver who pointed out the direction she should take.
The day was gloriously blue and clear. The gentle breeze ruffled her fiery hair only enough to leave it curling in charming disorder around her face.
She searched among the parked and chained Cessna until she came to the single small hangar that the airstrip boasted. A green station wagon was parked at the door.
The doors were open and she stepped inside. As her eyes adjusted to the dimness, she saw a pair of legs protruding from under an old relic of an airplane, something that looked to her like the remains of World War I. No one else was in sight, and none of the planes seemed ready to take off, so she got to her hands and knees to address the hidden torso.
"Hi! I'm looking for Ted Erlich. Is he around?"
"Yeah," came a voice from under the belly of the small plane. "I'm Ted. You must be Gayle."
"Yeah, hi. Hey, where's the plane we're going up in?" Gayle asked, looking around.
"You're looking at it," said the voice. "My pride and joy, an old rebuilt Cessna. Seats two. You and me, nice and tight. You know anything about flying?"
"Not a thing," she answered, gazing at the old plane doubtfully. "I just finished reading a book about skydiving, that's all. I only went up in a small plane once, when I was eight years old."
The legs lengthened as the body began to emerge from under the plane. Gayle stood up and looked at the little plane in dismay.
It was a single-engine Cessna 172. It was shaped like the other planes parked outside, only shabby. Instead of trim red wings, the wings of Ted's Cessna were mostly green, but were very scraped and patched. Here and there a stray bolt stuck out like metallic pimples on its surface.
The fuselage was a different color from the wings, a very faded red. There were no doors on either side and the tattered seat covers flapped in the breeze.
"It needs a little polishing up, but it's a beauty, isn't it?" Ted said fondly.
Gayle saw a man just slightly taller than she, with sandy blond hair and close-set blue eyes. His build was sturdy and squarish. His neck was thick and his shoulders broad and powerful. His whole demeanor was that of a man who spends much time outdoors.
He stood with his hands on his hips, regarding the old plane with the pleasure of a child with a favorite toy.
"Well," he said, "ready to try it out?"
"Try it out?" Gayle gasped. "You mean you've never flown it before?"
"Sure, I've flown it. Don't be so jumpy. Tell you what," he said, grinning at her discomfiture, "I'll even give you a parachute to wear. Okay?"
"I won't need it though, will I?" Gayle asked anxiously.
Ted laughed. "I sure hope not," he said, "because I won't be wearing one!"
He went to his station wagon and pulled out a big green pack with a tangle of loops and buckles hanging from it. He held it open for Gayle as if it were a coat and she stepped into it as he directed her, putting her legs through some of the straps, crossing others over her belly and boobs.
"Let me adjust those," Ted said, taking the chest straps and passing them over her tits.
He gave a hard tug to the strap until Gayle thought her tits would burst. She felt them straining over the sides of the strap.
When she protested that the straps were too tight, he loosened them, but not without managing to insert two fingers behind the buttons of her blouse to pinch one of her nipples.
"Good," he smiled lasciviously. "You don't wear a bra."
"Will that help my flying?" Gayle asked sarcastically.
"It'll help me," he grinned at her, taking her in his arms, backpack and all.
"I want to fly first," Gayle said, pushing him back gently but firmly.
"Okay," he said, giving her a quick kiss on the mouth.
He took her by the hand and helped her into the right seat. He showed her how to adjust her seat belt, then took his seat on her left.
He threw a few switches and fussed with some controls while Gayle stared out the door-less plane, wondering if she was taking too big a risk.
Finally, the engine started.
"Here we go!" Ted exulted, revving the engine higher so the plane moved forward.
He steered it out the door and took it to the end of the runway. There he revved the engine up another notch.
Gayle was deafened by the roar as the plane sped down the runway, picking up speed. Scenery flashed by, and Gayle felt the thrill of takeoff coursing in her veins. This time, it was much more immediate in this small, noisy plane with the doors off.
Timidly, her hand moved out the open door. She felt a powerful surge of wind that nearly threw her arm back. Suddenly, the sound of the road changed to a quieter, more mellow tone. At the same instant, she watched the trees fall behind and below them. Over the nose of the plane she saw only the rich azure sky.
The blood pounded heavily in her head and hands and she felt a weight at the pit of her stomach. Her elated smile was as brilliant as the sun toward which she soared.
"Like that, huh?" Ted screamed above the noise.
"You bet," Gayle grinned.
He patted her bare knee and left his hand there. She reached over and squeezed his knee, quickly moving her hand up his thigh. The blood in her veins roared like the engine of the plane and she wanted to fuck. This was no jetliner, however, and the best she could manage was to cover his crotch with the palm of her hand and squeeze.
She was able to unzip his fly and dig out his cock. She squeezed it, pumping it gently, all the time staring as if mesmerized out the front window watching the clouds, or out the open side of the plane, enjoying the verdant landscape dotted with blue-brown ponds beneath them.
The moment Gayle felt something hot and wet flowing over her fist, the plane jolted to one side, throwing her weight towards the door opening and straining on the single seat belt that held her body inside.
She whirled to face the pilot, fear and anger flashing in her eyes.
"Are you nuts? Don't you know what you're doing?"
The glazed expression on his face told her he did not.
The plane lurched sickeningly again and the ground suddenly appeared before her eyes.
Ted shook his head and pulled the plane out of its precarious nosedive just in time. At that moment the smell of gasoline reached Gayle's nostrils.
"What's that smell?" she demanded. "It smells like gasoline."
"It is gas!" Ted declared. "No," he amended nervously, "it's smoke. I think the fuselage is on fire."
Gayle sniffed. She turned around and saw a thick black cloud streaming out across the sky behind them.
"What are we going to do?" she cried.
"Get the hell out of here!" Ted yelled. "You say you know how to jump? You got a parachute, use it! I got to try to land this thing. Go on, get the hell out of here!"
Seeing Gayle's hesitation, he reached over and unclasped her seat belt. He gave her a mighty shove on her shoulder. His push alone was not quite strong enough to knock her out the door had she been unwilling, but her fear of jumping was exceeded by her fear of going down with the burning plane.
She threw herself out the door with his push, trying to arch her body against the wind in the spread-eagle jump position she had been practicing while reading her book the previous week.
She felt her body rolling around in the air. Earth and sky spun madly past her eyes and she felt as if her stomach were in her throat. She held her arms out to steady herself, but was suddenly jerked violently into an upright position by the deployment of the billowing green parachute above her head.
She was roughly eye-level with the tail of the plane as it descended toward the field, smoke pouring out behind, only slightly faster than she.
She looked up and saw the canopy overhead.
Two or three of the lines were twisted, but the canopy itself was pretty well deployed. Her descent was sufficiently slow, although it seemed too fast for Gayle.
Four minutes, she thought. That's how long it will take for me to get down, I think. Maybe less. I don't remember!
The ground still seemed far away. She looked up again and found the wooden toggles that controlled the direction of the parachute. She pulled down on the right one, turning herself in a complete circle to the right. She was well away from water, and could hope to land either on the airstrip or somewhere in the neighboring field.
She was thankful that the wind was very mild--it was probably an ideal day for a jump, had she been an experienced jumper. The airstrip was passing beneath her. She saw the smoking plane approach the asphalt. By now the ground was coming up fast.
She was almost to the treetops when she passed over a barbed wire fence and found herself looking down into a pile of hay. Before she knew what was happening, she hit the haystack, feet first, and rolled over, knocking the air out of her.
She fought to keep from blacking out and managed to pull her head above the smothering herbage. Nylon cord lay about her like a heap of spaghetti.
She rolled over on her back and breathed a long sigh of relief. After a few minutes, the realization of her narrow escape and incredible good luck came over her.
She ruefully pulled the remains of her halter top out of the straps of the backpack and threw it aside. She had to struggle for several minutes to undo the clasps that scratched her now bare chest.
She had just freed herself from the parachute when a shadow fell over her face. She looked up to see a rugged, wiry-looking man of about fifty years old, wearing overalls, a work shirt and a crumpled straw hat, gazing lustfully down at her. Several yards behind him was a tractor.
"Thanks for providing a cushion for me to land on," she said, smiling at the lust in his eyes as he stared at her beautiful breasts.
With a modest attitude, she crossed her arms over her bare chest, but held them high enough so her stiff nipples jutted out the crook of each elbow.
"I guess I lost my blouse somewhere in the air," she stammered.
"Sure did," he answered in a high pitched voice, unzipping his overalls.
He dropped to his knees. His skinny cock jutted out from his fly, a startling sight against the faded, well-worn thick cloth that kept him completely covered otherwise.
Gayle knew she had a no-nonsense, fuck-and buck man on her hands and could not resist laughing aloud at the absurdity of her situation. She had just had a narrow escape and here she was about to be screwed again! She felt exhilarated at her safe landing and horny as hell.
She unzipped her already tom shorts and pulled them down over her feet, leaving herself completely naked in the middle of the hayfield and not caring one whit.
She lay back and opened her soft thighs wide. After taking a moment to enjoy the sight of her, the wiry old farmer pushed his hard body up against hers, took his cock in one hand and her pussy lips in the other and slid his prick right into her without another word being spoken between them.
She laughed wildly as she fucked the farmer. The moo of a cow sounded very close, and that, too, struck her as hysterically funny. She felt him jerk his prick spasmodically inside her several times, so that she almost began to enjoy the feeling of something inside her twat. Then it was all over.
The next thing she knew, her pussy was wet with sperm and the farmer was standing over her again, zipping his fly.
"We c'n throw that big rag o' yourn' around ye and I'll bring yeh to th' ayerport."
He helped her gather in the parachute. He held one end for her so she could wrap herself in it. He gathered up the excess and bundled it into her arms.
Naked, except for the parachute, she was unceremoniously dropped off by tractor at the airport. She waved to the stolid farmer, and went into the hanger.
The hangar was empty. She dumped the parachute onto the floor and shivered in the drafty hangar. She was nude. She looked around for something to wear, but there was nothing except a small, grimy handkerchief lying next to Ted's tool kit.
She went to the door of the hangar and peeped outside. No one was in sight, nor was there even a car on the road. Summoning her courage, she stepped outside. She saw Ted's plane on the runway, blackened with soot but no longer smoking.
She crossed the field, enjoying the feel of sunlight on her naked flesh. She feared for a moment that perhaps Ted had been trapped inside the plane.
To her relief, the cockpit was empty. She looked around, bewildered. The plane stood to one side of the asphalt runway, where Ted had obviously parked it.
"Ted!" she shouted.
She heard a cow in the nearby meadow, but no human voice answered her call. She decided that Ted had probably gone off to look for her, and wondered if he had seen where she had landed.
The heat rose in shimmering waves from the runway, burning the soles of Gayle's feet. She returned to the grass, and stood for several minutes, trying to decide whether or not to return to the hangar or to try to look for her friend.
It would be awkward, running around the fields nude, she realized, but if Ted were lying somewhere hurt....
Her thoughts were interrupted by the buzzing of a plane. With a start she noticed a small plane circling overhead. She dove under the smoldering ruins of Ted's small plane.
"Gayle! Gayle! Are you all right!"
She turned to see Ted running across the field from the hangar.
He reached the plane and took her by the hand, drawing her out to stand under its wing.
"I was so afraid you'd been hurt," he explained. "I never would have forgiven myself. My god, what happened to your clothes?"
"My blouse got tom off when I was coming down," Gayle explained. "And I lost my cutoffs in the field somewhere."
He looked bewildered, but apparently decided not to question his good luck.
"Here, sit down. I'm qualified to give First Aid, so I think I should examine you for injuries," he told her.
He sat her down protesting her good health, on the grass and ran his hands up her ankles. He massaged the tops of her thighs, "checking for breaks," he explained. She saw sweat start on his brow. He took off his shirt and tossed it aside.
His hands traveled up her sides and caressed her nipples. He pushed her back onto the grass.
"Sometimes a hard landing can have strange effects," he said, spreading her legs and pinching her pussy lips between the fingers of his hands.
"But I landed on a haystack!" Gayle protested.
The next moment, she felt his warm, wet tongue sliding over her pussy lips. He fastened his mouth on her clitoris and poked his finger into the wet opening of her vagina.
His finger fucked her for several minutes, until she was writhing on the grass beneath him. He stood up and quickly dropped his pants, sinking to his knees between her legs.
He grunted as his cock slid into her twat, right up to its hilt. He fucked her lustily, his balls slapping her thighs. Her feet dangled in the air above his back, and she cursed him roundly as he fucked.
"Ted, what the hell are you doing to me? Damn you," she moaned. "I just want to get away from this damn airport!"
The droning in her ears was quite loud now. She felt her groin responding to Ted's hot rod and she gripped him with her thighs, pushing her pelvis up into his crotch.
"Oh," she gasped. "Oh, Ted, you're making me cornel"
She orgasmed, her pussy wringing his cock. She felt his cock throbbing inside her pussy.
Just then a great black shadow passed over them. Gayle opened her eyes to see the small plane that had been circling high above them. It was only a few hundred feet in the air, passing right over them on its way to the runway.
It was close enough for her to make out a man's face at the window of the plane, watching the fucking couple eagerly.
"Ted," she cried, trying to push her away. "Ted, someone's coming!"
He did not seem to hear her, but continued to fuck her lustily. She fought to escape him, but it was no use. The sturdy outdoorsman held her captive, pinned to the ground with his thick cock.
The plane taxied to a halt behind them. Ted seemed either unheeding or uncaring. His orgasm was almost upon him when Gayle saw the two men run up behind them.
Ted creamed in her pussy, bellowing like a bull. Gayle heard the answering moo of the cow in the meadow.
Ted snorted and stood up. He was surprised to see the two men behind them.
Both of them stood there with their pricks hanging out of their pants. Seeing they would get no resistance from Ted, the first man, a suntanned, pot-bellied blond, dropped to his knees and shoved his erect prick right into Gayle's wet box.
He lifted her legs to his shoulders, so her ass hung in the air. He fucked her soundly for several minutes. She responded by arching her back so his prick could sink deeper into her.
At that, the blond stranger came, inundating her pussy still further with sperm.
He let her slide gently back onto the grass. The second stranger, a tall, dark-haired young man with glasses and thinning hair, got down on his knees beside her. He rolled her willing body over.
Her ass was slightly wrinkled with the impression of the grass beneath her, but as beautiful as ever. The second pilot pulled her to her hands and knees and pushed himself up against the backs of her thighs. His cock slid ramrod stiff into her wet hole. He fucked her hard, slapping his body into hers.
Gayle heard Ted and the other stranger urging him on.
"Give it to her, Johnny," the blond stranger cried. He was sitting on his heels near Gayle's ass, watching every stroke of his friend's cock into Gayle's slurping pussy.
Ted knelt in front of her and grabbed her swinging boobs. He held them tight as the stranger screwed his prick into her, coming with a moan and holding her ass to him.
When he had pulled himself from her and sat back on the grass, Gayle stood up.
"Not bad, boys," she said, tossing her auburn hair. "But all of you could use endurance lessons. Not one of you lasted more than two minutes. I hope none of you are married. You'd probably bore your wives to death."
She sauntered past them. "Excuse me," she said, pushing the blond man aside. She picked up Ted's shirt and put it on.
With a wave, she turned and walked back to the hangar. She felt their eyes on her ass and laughed to herself.
She found an outside shower in the back of the building and though it was freezing cold, washed herself thoroughly, shaking like a puppy when she emerged.
As she dried herself in the sun, she watched the plane take off again. Ted crossed the field alone and waved to her as he approached the hangar. "Need a lift home?" he asked.
"Yeah," Gayle said. "Hurry up, I have a show to make tonight."
"That's right," Ted said. "Tien told me you were an actress."
"Sure I am," Gayle said. "And if you promise you'll try a little harder next time we screw, I'll invite you to see the show tonight. Afterwards, you can even have a date with the star of 'Speakeasy.' "
"Really?" Ted was incredulous. "You're the star of that show?" He looked like a child at Christmas. "Would you want to fuck me again?"
"Yes," Gayle said. "Maybe I can even show you a few tricks. But not now," she laughed, pushing him away good-naturedly. "I've got a lot to do tonight in the show. One more fuck today is going to use up my last bit of energy. But I can promise you a walloping good time after the show!
CHAPTER FIVE
It was a glorious June afternoon, near the end of their run in Raleigh. Gayle entered the theater from the stage door, pausing to look over the bulletin board filled with newspaper clippings. She had read each of the half-dozen rave reviews many times, but it still gave her great satisfaction and a pre-show boost to reread the many superlatives that had been applied to the show and to her performance in particular.
Neither she nor Henry had received anything less than ecstatic praise in the cities on their tour thus far. Gayle was confident they could repeat their success in Tulsa and in Tampa, the next two stops, the second half of their tour.
With a smile, she greeted the three boy dancers who were draped about the Green Room reading. She was always early to the theater, a practice which never failed to please the people behind the scenes who appreciated a star willing to work for her keep.
She was about to pass through the Green Room to her dressing room when one of the boys spoke.
"That's funny, Gayle, this sure looks like you," he said, holding up his newspaper for her to see.
"What looks like me?" she asked, still smiling. "Are you still reading those sex rags, Jerry?"
"Sure," Jerry said, handing her his sex-scandal sheet, a Raleigh publication called Sweets.
At the top of the page was blurry photograph, a frontal view of a nude woman. Her legs were spread and her crotch was exposed. A man sat behind her, his face showing over her shoulder. She seemed to be sitting on his thighs. He held her body against his with one arm around her waist. The middle finger of his other hand was knuckle deep in the woman's cunt. It was a graphic shot of a rape scene straight out of "Hot Pussycat."
"Let me see that!" Gayle cried, snatching the paper.
The woman's head was thrown back and her face was only partially visible. There were not too many women with bodies as perfect as Gayle's, especially in a low-class sex sheet like Sweats.
With growing panic, Gayle read about the grand opening of "Hot Pussycat" in Raleigh. The blurb described it as the hottest, sexiest movie ever shown south of the Mason-Dixon line.
The theater where the movie would open was six blocks from the downtown section of Main Street where "Speakeasy" was playing. Unluckily, anyone driving to the theater from the suburbs would pass by the porn house.
At least, she thought, in North Carolina they could not advertise such things the way they did in New York. So no pictures of her nude, balling body would grace the outside of the run-down building. She only hoped that no one who saw the movie would see her current show.
Her phony name in the credits of the movie would be little help in concealing her actual identity. Until now, she had always appreciated that her auburn hair and shapely body rendered her uniquely and unforgettably beautiful.
She handed the paper back to Jerry with a sigh. He looked at her suspiciously.
"I'm better-looking than that," Gayle laughed unconvincingly. Without waiting for his reply, she hurried to her dressing room.
She closed and locked the door behind her and threw herself down on the bed. Calling the porn theater to find out how long the movie would run made no sense. She knew the length of the run of these films depended entirely on how good a business it brought. Moreover, there was no way to predict what kind of business such a movie would do in Raleigh. Some of the hottest material in New York had flopped out of town, while some of the stuff that would not last a day in the big city prospered in the sticks.
She was doubly worried now that she had an enemy in the front office. Ogden Graham hated her with all the bitterness of a rejected lover. She shuddered to think what he might do if he ever found out about "Hot Pussycat." He would certainly inform the producers, and would probably close the show as well in an attempt to embarrass her publicly. Or would he?
"Speakeasy" had been going better than all expectations up to this point. Much of the credit for this belonged to the talented leading lady.
Although no one is irreplaceable, especially in show business, Gayle knew the show would suffer, at least while it was in Raleigh, should anything happen to her.
Ogden Graham therefore had a financial interest in protecting her, she reasoned. On the other hand, there was nothing to keep him from notifying the producers, enabling them to replace her quietly with no one ever knowing why.
That possibility made Gayle break out in a cold sweat. In that case, her burgeoning career could be smothered and no one but she would be the loser. How could she bear to start all over again in New York?
Henry knew about her film. She decided to ask his advice. He had been in the business before Gayle was out of high school.
She leaped up from the grease-stained couch in the corner of her dressing room and headed for the door. She stopped short, her hand on the doorknob.
No, she thought, shaking her head and collapsing resignedly into a chair. It would be best to keep this completely to herself. A secret shared is no longer secret.
She stood up and sighed, pushing the matter to the back of her mind, at least for the rest of the evening. She had a show to do and do well. That was her first concern, and would continue to be her primary concern until she decided otherwise.
The show had been fantastic all week, better than ever. Gayle's energies had soared, and she was doing her Third Act climactic number like never before.
"Hot Pussycat" had opened and closed in three days at the porn house, so Gayle had reason to celebrate.
She found Louie waiting in the wings, starry-eyed with wonder and juvenile lust.
"Oh, Miss Honeycutt," he sighed. "I never met anyone like you before."
"Well, if you'd like to see more of me, Louie, come to my dressing room with me, hmm?" Gayle smiled at him.
Bob had a date with the theater secretary again tonight, and Gayle felt herself particularly horny, as always after an especially rewarding performance.
She passed Louie only to run into fat little Sammy Graham, a fifteen-year-old miniature of his disgusting uncle. She usually simply ignored both Grahams, but Sammy deliberately stood in her way.
"Let me pass, Sammy," Gayle said, bewildered at his sudden audacity. Sammy, at least, had never dared to provoke her before.
"My uncle wants to see you at once in his office," Sammy said, the comers of his thick-lipped mouth curling in an insolent sneer.
"He'll see me when I've changed my clothes," Gayle said sternly. "Let me pass."
"No," Sammy insisted, an unmoving block of flesh in her path. "He said immediately. In costume, if ya hafta."
Gayle turned to go. She would have to climb around the set backstage to reach her dressing room if Sammy blocked this hallway, but she was willing to do it to avoid any further unpleasantness. She was tired from show and felt herself at disadvantage.
Moreover, she wondered at the sudden rude call from the Theater Manager, who had not bothered her since the first rehearsal. Did he think she would answer his call at a snap from his fingers?
Her annoyance was only augmented when she stumbled on a wire and scratched her ankle, tearing a hole in the black mesh stockings of her last act costume, a black bikini she wore with a white collar and black satin tie and a top hat crowning her thick, curling Rita Heyworth hairdo.
She picked her top hat off the floor where it had fallen and cursed aloud in the darkness. She made her way carefully across the dusty tables and old backdrops.
She found her dressing room door locked. She never locked it herself, trusting to luck and to the burly stage door guard to protect her belongings. She turned to him now for help.
"I'm sorry, Miss," the tall black man replied to her request for a key. "Mr. Graham took the key when he locked your door. He says you can pick it up in his office."
The man's eyes strayed to her chest as he spoke. Gayle felt a chill. Never before had the mild-mannered Negro giant ventured to look at her in any sexual manner. He was usually silent and introspective, not very intelligent, answering any questions put to him in monosyllables.
Bob Watson was nowhere in sight and Louie told her he had already left with the secretary. She sent Louie off to look for Henry.
The theater had cleared out quickly tonight, a Saturday night. Everyone but she had found things to do.
Louie returned to tell her Henry also could not be found, although his dressing room was still lit and open.
The sweat from performance had dried on her body and her legs felt wobbly. The black high heels she wore pinched her tired feet unmercifully.
She took Louie by the hand.
"Louie, come with me to Graham's office. I have to get my key. I can't stand it anymore!"
They met Sammy in the darkened lobby. He unlocked the box office door and let them in, pointing to the door in the rear with the black lettering: OGDEN GRAHAM, MANAGER.
This door too, was locked.
He's really trying to humiliate me tonight, she thought grimly. She pounded angrily on the door until Graham himself opened it.
She strode into his office. Before she could prevent it, Graham had closed the door behind her and locked it in Louie's face. She felt a flash of nervousness which quickly changed to anger at the smug, smiling fat man.
"What the hell do you mean locking me out of my dressing room like that?" she demanded. "We're closing tomorrow night. Why can't you let me leave Raleigh in peace? You've got to pull one last little piece of nastiness? What are you trying to accomplish, Graham?"
"I'm trying to protect your reputation and your career, my dear Miss Bunny Boobson," he leered at her.
In the silence that followed, Gayle could hear the thumping of her heart.
"I thought that would shut you up, slut!" he jeered.
"Don't go too far, Graham," Gayle said quietly. "You'd be surprised how little I have to lose at this point."
"On the contrary, my dear," he smiled oilily, offering her the straight backed chair in front of his desk. "You haven't lost anything ... yet. And I don't think you will, either. You're an intelligent woman, Gayle I presume I may call you that. I think you'll understand me when I tell you that I have no intention of divulging your little secret to the producers, provided you ... ah, shall we say, cooperate?"
"Cooperate?" Gayle asked, her suspicions rising as fast as her hopes fell.
"You see, you are closing tomorrow night, and it is very doubtful that anyone besides myself recognized the virginal Gayle Honeywell as torrid Bunny Boobson, star of the most pornographic film ever made. Unfortunately, your movie opened and closed very quickly. The houses were very small, limited to a few devotees, like myself, who see everything that plays there. The few other citizens of Raleigh who saw the film, should they also have seen the play, or pictures of you, would have enough doubts about their own eyesight to make the necessary identification. It's simply that I, living with the likes of you actors for the last twenty years as manager of this theater, know what bimbos and whores you all really are. I was not very surprised to see you on screen doing those things, believe me. Tell me," he sat on the desk near her chair and leaned over, putting his face very close to hers, "do you really like to be fucked in your ass and your cunt by two big hot ones at the same time?"
"Wouldn't you like to know?" Gayle retorted, a twisted grin on her face.
"Yes, I would," Graham said. "I'm going to find out, too. That is, unless you would like your producers to find a little telegram from me in their morning mail."
"What is it you want?" Gayle said wearily. "I mean, what's your scene? Then maybe I can tell you right off if I can cooperate or not. Keep it simple, Graham. I warn you, I'm not in the mood for games tonight."
"Ah, I knew you would see things my way," Graham said, rubbing his hands together excitedly. "You're a reasonable woman, Gayle. I know we will get along just fine. Especially when I tell you I have no intention of touching you. You see, my sex life is more complicated than that. I get my joys in many ways. One of them is to serve the women I ... ah, want to help."
He motioned her over to a door in the rear of his office and led her through it, locking it behind them.
Gayle found herself in a fifteen foot square, windowless room. Its most prominent feature was a large bed with four brass bedposts in the middle of the room. The room was lit by a single red bulb over the bed and a tall white church candle in one comer. In the opposite comer, near a second door, was a large armoire, which Graham opened.
He tossed her a small, well-worn riding crop and took off his pants. He waddled over to the bed, fat and bareassed, wearing only his soiled shirt and socks.
"You see, Gayle," he wheezed, "now you can have your revenge. I want you to tie me to the head of the bed and spank me. Simple, isn't it? We can make all the noise we want since the room is completely soundproofed. No one except Sammy and myself even know of its existence."
She was almost glad for the opportunity to take out her frustration, and only regretted that he would be enjoying her punishment. She resolved to give him what he wanted and get out.
After all, she reasoned, the show would be closing in Raleigh the following night and the cast would be on a plane bound for Tulsa, Oklahoma the next day. If this was the worst that would happen, it was still better than bad publicity and the possible loss of her job and consequent damage to her career.
She took the handcuffs he offered and locked one end around his thick wrist. She passed the other around one of the brass rungs of the bed's headboard and attached it to Graham's other wrist.
He lay on his big belly across the bed. His baby-white ass glowed in the dim red light and Gayle landed a heavy blow on his fat cheeks, watching with satisfaction as a red welt appeared.
"You see? You see how easy it is?" Graham gasped. "Do it again! Again! Don't stop! Even when I beg you to stop, keep beating me. I'm at your mercy, whore. I'm all yours. I'm your slave!" His voice squeaked with excitement.
Gayle beat him with all the fury she felt at her humiliating treatment at his hands. His chubby ass blazed with welts before the weariness in her arm brought her to a halt.
She glistened with sweat, panting, her eyes still blazing at her willing victim. He lifted his manacled arm and pressed a small switch, previously unnoticed by Gayle, on the right bedpost. She heard a buzzer sound somewhere behind the second door, which probably led to the deep basement of the old theater.
"Are you satisfied?" Gayle asked, not trusting the gleam in Graham's eye.
"Not quite," he said. "Now it's my turn." He rolled to one side, his eye on the mysterious door on the opposite wall.
Gayle jumped in fear when the latch clicked and the door swung open. Behind the door, wearing faded dungarees held up by a rope around his waist, stood the Negro watchman to whom Gayle had spoken earlier.
He seemed like a black marble giant, towering over her in his bare feet, six foot seven of muscle. His eyes and his teeth gleamed startlingly white in the semi-darkness and the calm, diabolical look in his eyes was completely unlike the unobtrusive watchman Gayle had been taking for granted for a month.
She found herself backing away from him, clutching the riding crop close to her breast, panic flooding her senses.
"Release me, Barry," Graham said to the man.
The black giant passed Gayle and slipped a key into the handcuffs that snapped them open. Ogden Graham sat up on the bed, his little prick wobbling its way into hardness once again, although Gayle saw a dark stain on the dingy sheet where he had just lain.
"Take her," Graham said.
"No!" Gayle cried.
She dropped her whip and dashed for the door. It was locked. She pounded hopelessly on the door until she felt her wrist caught in the black man's vise-like grip.
As if she were no more than a child, she felt herself being dragged toward the bed where she was stretched out on her back and handcuffed to the bed, her wrists high above her head, fastened to each of the bedposts.
Graham stood at the foot of the bed, holding her ankles while Barry stepped out of his jeans and climbed into the bed over her, his naked body glistening.
She screamed when she saw his cock-it was bigger than any she had ever encountered.
Perversely though, she felt a deep thrill rising in her crotch. She was finding herself a victim of one of her secret sex fantasies, she realized, and whether she liked it or not, her voluptuous body was responding as if it had a mind of its own.
Her nipples stiffened as the black man carefully unhooked the bra of her costume while Ogden Graham dragged the bikini bottoms and black mesh stockings down over her legs.
She was left wearing only the stiff white cardboard collar and man's black silk tie.
She kicked out at Barry's stiff erection, missing it narrowly.
"Are you going to let her get away with that?" Ogden Graham taunted the burly black man.
Barry didn't answer. He simply gripped Gayle's ankles and turned her body over. Graham took her ankles to keep her from attempting further damage.
"No, no," Gayle whimpered helplessly.
The painful beating that Barry then administered to her naked ass seemed to drift through her consciousness as though it were happening to someone else. She felt the juices creaming over in her perverse pussy and she came three times in quick succession.
Her screams sounded far away to her own ears and when he was finished, she was limp on the bed, her wrists sore too, from the steel cuffs, but strangely satisfied in the midst of her humiliation.
Graham's voice cracked across her consciousness like a gunshot.
"Now! Do it! Shove that big rod into her cunt! Give her hell!"
She raised her tear-stained face to see Graham on his knees at Barry's feet, his pudgy hand holding the saliva-covered prick.
Barry squeezed Gayle's big tits in each hand until it looked as though her nipples would pop from the strain. Graham again grabbed her ankles and spread her legs so his black alter ego could force his way between her cream-colored thighs.
She whimpered uncontrollably, her twat once more awash with anticipatory juices. The head of the mean-looking black staff pressed against her pussy. She felt tight as a virgin. She feared he would somehow damage her if he forced it in, but she was helpless to stop him.
"Please, don't hurt me," she whispered into his nearly unseeing dark eyes.
Her words were rewarded with a hefty thrust from his groin that sent the steel-hard shaft past her pussy lips halfway up her canal. Her back arched against the mattress and she groaned, not in pain, but afraid to give in to her pleasure.
That massive cock seemed stuck, unable to move in or out, so tight were the walls of her cunt around it.
"Give in, bitch," Barry hissed in her ear, giving her tits a hard shake. He pushed hard, his ass tightening with the strain. She felt him pressing against her cervix and still going.
"No, no, I can't take it, please...." she began.
He shoved the last inch of his rod into her twat, striking her more deeply than she had ever thought possible. She was enveloped in wave after wave of orgasm, each greater than the last.
Her juices so wet her cuntwalls that Barry was actually able to fuck her, although not without effort. His rod pistoned into her, gaining momentum and additional lubrication at each stroke.
She felt the warmth of his come when his body stiffened against hers, his juice flooding her pussy. She was weak from her own orgasms, and gasped for breath under the weight of the collapsing giant.
Mercifully, he rolled off her and lay on his back. His mouth was open and he drew in his breath in long, sobbing gasps. Gayle saw Graham standing near the armoire, wiping cream from his cock. He too had obviously enjoyed the couple's colossal efforts, in his own peculiar way.
He picked up the pieces of Gayle's costume and laid them carefully across the top of the bed.
"That wasn't so bad, was it, Gayle?" he said. "Part of my pleasure is knowing how repulsive I am to the young ladies I initiate here. I enjoy their hatred immensely, especially when they find themselves screwed by my giant friend here after wreaking their revenge on my poor body. I know you really enjoyed that, perhaps as much as I did. I saw you coming like the slut you really are. But if you didn't-it doesn't matter."
While he was talking, he dressed himself and tied his shoes. At his last words, he disappeared through the door back into his office.
"Hey," Gayle called after him. "When can I get up?" She got only silence for her answer.
Barry too, got up and left without a word, closing and latching the cellar door behind him. Gayle was left alone, still handcuffed to the great brass bed, naked except for the white cardboard collar and black silk tie.
She did not know how long she was lying there, manacled to the bedposts. She dozed off, but could not tell how long she slept. When she woke up the room was the same, except her wrists, pussy and ass ached.
Graham finally reappeared carrying her bathrobe. He unfastened her bindings and Gayle quickly sat up, rubbing her sore wrists.
She did not say a word to the Theater Manager, who simply stood near the door waiting for her to dress.
She threw the pieces of her costume over her arm and tied her robe about her. Majestically, she swept past Graham into his office.
His outside door was locked and once again she was forced to wait until he closed the door to his private chamber and unlocked the door to the box office.
When she entered the front office from Graham's rooms, Louie leaped up to greet her.
"Are you okay, Miss Honeycutt?" he asked anxiously. "That bastard wouldn't let me in and he wouldn't tell me where you were. I called up the hotel and talked to Henry. He's coming right over. You were gone a long time."
Gayle looked blankly at Louie and stroked his cheek with the palm of her hand.
"Why, Louie," she said, "where on earth did you get that shiner?"
The skin around Louie's left eye was blue-black and slightly puffy.
"It was Sammy, Miss Honeycutt," Louie explained, coloring with embarrassment. "He said some pretty nasty things about you and I told him to shut up. He wouldn't, so...."
"Sammy's not here," Gayle remarked absently.
"Yeah, he got the worst of it 'cause his uncle wasn't around to help him this time. He didn't have a chance," Louie said.
"Well, let's take care of that shiner," Gayle said. "We can get some ice from the bar on the way back to my dressing room. I have an ice pack and a shot of whiskey for my brave bodyguard."
Just then Henry appeared in the doorway, breathless, followed by his young friend, Billy.
"Are you okay?" he demanded, his eyes searching Gayle's blank face. "What's happening? Louie said you might need help."
"What I need now, Henry, is moral support," Gayle declared. "Come on back to my hotel room with me. I've got a story to tell you about a down-and-out actress, a blue movie, and a hit show, and I think you'll find it interesting. I don't want a repeat of tonight's scene, and I won't want you to tell anyone else about it. But if anyone can give me advice, you're my man."
"Hear that, Billy?" Henry laughed, taking Gayle's arm as they headed back toward the darkened theater area. "Gayle needs a man tonight and she wants me!"
They walked arm in arm through the lobby of the theater.
"Do you remember that blue movie I told you about? The one I made almost two years ago? It was called 'Hot Pussycat.' Henry, the damn thing is out now and it played right here in Raleigh less than a week ago."
"Gayle!" Henry squeezed her arm sympathetically. "What are you going to do?"
"There's nothing for me to do, Henry," Gayle said. "We're leaving here the day after tomorrow. Anyway, the worst has already happened. Graham saw it just before it closed. He called me into his office tonight and threatened to tell the producers about it if I didn't play ball with him."
"What do you mean 'play ball with him'?" Henry demanded. "What did he want?"
"He wanted me to screw with him," Gayle said. "Not exactly screw him, though." She quickly explained the scene she had just gone through.
Henry and Billy took it all in sympathetically, but Gayle noticed Louie's eyes widen at her vivid retelling.
"Did he really do all that?" Louie finally interrupted the end of Gayle's discourse.
"Yes, Louie, I'm afraid so," Gayle admitted. "And I agreed to go through with it, first of all, because I didn't know what it would involve, and second, because I really thought he might leave me alone afterwards. But now I'm not so sure. Oh, Henry, he could still wire the producers. In that case, his revenge on me would be complete."
"We have to stop him," Henry declared dramatically. 'We have to make sure he keeps his mouth shut."
"How? Murder?" Louie asked.
Gayle smiled and chucked his chin. "We can't scare him," she said, thinking aloud.
"He doesn't have too much to lose," Billy said.
"Sure he does," Henry said. "If he said anything, Gayle could have him charged with rape."
"But that won't do anything for us if this gets out and the show has to close. I'm not interested in getting revenge on him for telling them; I'd just rather make sure he doesn't tell them in the first place. I don't know how," she added glumly. "He's my sworn enemy."
"But he's not mine," Henry said, "or Billy's." He stopped in his tracks and tinned to Billy. "Can you handle a scene with this creep?"
"What did you have in mind?" Billy asked. "I'm Gayle's friend too. I can do whatever you think to help her out of it I gotta protect the show too."
"Me tool" Louie cried, his eyes blazing with anger. "And I'd like to get that fat Sammy Graham, tool"
"You might be needed to take care of Gayle," Henry said kindly to the boy. "This is a scene for us faggots."
He immediately turned the whole party around and headed for Graham's office. He motioned Gayle and Billy behind the doorway into the theater. Taking Billy by the hand, he went boldly up to Graham's door and knocked.
Graham himself answered. "Yes?" His calm eyes traveled from Henry to Billy, who stood a few feet behind.
"I have a problem I want to talk over with you," Henry began. "It concerns that bitch, Gayle. Listen, honey, I know what a cunt that girl can be, sometimes. But it's about a movie I saw. Can I come inside?"
In the course of his conversation, Henry's voice had changed from strident to sexy. Gayle recognized the tone-it was one Henry used when he was trying to pick up the boys in the bar.
That's it! she thought excitedly. Of course! Graham's an old fairy! Why else wouldn't he fuck me himself? He said it was beautiful.
She was so happy she hugged Louie right on the spot. Graham had only to take a liking to Henry, or to Billy.
She held her breath, waiting for Graham's reaction.
"Why don't you and your good-looking young friend just step inside my office?" Graham said cordially. "We can talk better in there."
"Come on," Gayle whispered to Louie. "They've gone inside. I want to see this. You've got to be my guide inside this theater. Can you take me to the basement? There's a stairway somewhere that leads from the basement to a little room behind Graham's office and I want to find it."
"Okay," Louie said. "I think I know where it is."
She followed him down the darkened aisles and up the stairs of the stage. He led her to the rear wall backstage to two doors. He opened one, a closet stuffed with old costumes and tools, and picked up a flashlight.
He slid back the bolt of the second door and turned the latch, but the door stuck fast
"There's another door in the back, near the watchman's station," Louie told her. "Follow me." He waved the flashlight manfully. Visions of the Hardy Boys danced through Gayle's head.
They clambered across the scenery and wires backstage and hurried down the narrow corridor to the dressing rooms. The hallway onto which the dressing rooms opened led them to the stage door entrance where the giant Negro watchman usually sat.
Right across from his empty chair was another door. This one was open.
"Careful, Louie," Gayle warned. "Barry might still be around."
The staircase was completely without light. They had to grope their way down the rickety wooden stairs. Gayle would not allow Louie to turn on the flashlight, fearing the black giant might still be lurking in the depths of the basement and see their beam.
At the bottom of the stairs, Louie turned to Gayle and whispered, "Put your hand on my shoulder. I been down here before. I know which stairs you're lookin' for. They're all the way on the other side of the basement. But I can't find 'em in the dark."
"Let's just go a little farther, to see if Barry's still around," Gayle whispered.
They inched their way along a clammy wall, listening at every turn for sounds. The only noise was the steady dripping about twenty yards away.
"Go ahead, Louie, turn on the light," Gayle said. "I think we're alone."
The beam of light cut through the darkness to illuminate the great hulking Negro standing directly in their path. His eyes seemed to glitter in the darkness.
Louie jumped in fright and Gayle emitted a small scream.
"What are you doin' here?" he asked. Gayle was shocked at the sound of his voice. It was no longer harsh. Rather, he sounded more like the watchman with whom Gayle was familiar.
"Could you point out the stairway to Graham's office?" she asked innocently. "He's there now with a friend of mine and he told me you would point out the way." She put on her most winning smile, praying her bluff would pay off.
"Oh, shit, does he expect me to work any later than this?" the man complained. "My wife keeps dinner waitin' for me and I'm late enough already. You can tell him I went home, if he asks. The stairs are straight ahead."
Barry started to pass them, stopped, looked at Louie, and shook his head. "He's goin after them younger all the time," he said passing them and going up the stairs they had just descended. "I sure am tired," he muttered. "Don't like workin' so late anyways. ''Cept you sure was a nice piece of ass. S' long."
Gayle smiled and hugged Louie. "Come on, let's go."
They found the stairway and climbed it. There was a small window in die middle of the door. Gayle remembered that she had noticed what looked like a mirror on the door from the other side. She realized that she was looking at one-way glass.
"Look, Louie," she said, stepping aside so he could fit his face next to hers.
Graham lay across the bed, his nude ass crisscrossed with welts. Billy stood to one side, wrapping a small whip around his fist. He was nude, and Graham was staring at him, obviously trying to wheedle him into something.
Henry sank a dildo into Graham's asshole. He was nude from the waist down, and Gayle could see his own prick was limp.
Graham was obviously enjoying the whole thing. Billy's face was wrinkled with displeasure and boredom. Henry seemed to be enjoying his little excursion into sadism. He fucked the man's ass deep and hard with the rubber prick.
Gayle chuckled to herself. If Graham was going to be on Henry's side, she would no longer have any problems with her part in the show. She pressed her nose to the glass. Now, she thought, watching the cornholing, if only all my enemies would come to this, my problems would be solved.
Louie clutched at Gayle's hand. "Does that hurt?" he asked her. "I hope it does. He shouldn't have tried to hurt you, Miss Honeycutt."
"Thank you, Louie," Gayle said. "I'm glad I have you for protection." She sat on the top step and pulled the boy to her. His belt was level with her face, and almost before she knew what she was doing, she had unbuckled it and unzipped his fly.
His prick popped out. His pubic hair was not too thick, even though he was already past puberty. His cock was long enough to fit her pussy, she thought, but she wanted a taste of him first, right there on the cellar stairs.
She took his prick into her mouth, savoring the salty taste of sweat and boy-cheese. She gobbled on his rod until it throbbed hard and spat a small amount of cream into her mouth.
It softened, but she would not release it. She sucked him more, caressing his shaft gently, but firmly with her tongue. She held his little nuts in her hands and milked them softly. His cock soon stiffened once again.
The light shone through the glass in the door, illuminating their bodies. Gayle took off her robe. She was relieved to find a cloth carpet on the landing behind her. She spread her robe over this and lay back, her nude body glistening invitingly, her arms outstretched and her thighs spread to receive the boy.
He pulled his pants down around his knees and lay between her legs. She helped him get himself into position and placed his cock in her hole with gentle, caressing hands.
He jerked his hips spasmodically, fucking eagerly and hard. Gayle put her hand on his white ass, slowing him down. She moved her pelvis with his, showing him the rhythm she needed and grinding her pubic area into his. His prick filled her pussy. His eager movements and obvious adolescent lust excited Gayle to the brink of orgasm in only a few minutes.
"That's it," she breathed huskily. "Oh, yes, you learn fast, you beautiful young man! I love your fucking. You're such a stud. Fuck my pussy, Louie. That's the way. Watch what you're doing to me. I'm going to come. You're making me come, you crazy kid!"
Her pussy throbbed and spewed its juice down Louie's shaft. The boy's eyes widened at the sensation of her cunt squeezing his rod.
"What's that?" he breathed. "I never had this happen before. Did you ... did you cream?" He emphasized the last word unfamiliarly.
"Yes, honey," Gayle said, relaxing, her pussy still clutching Louie's dick. "If you keep on doing that, I'll cream again." His fingers were searching out her vagina and rubbing his cock. She felt his hand explore their joined genitals.
"Wow!" Louie sighed. "Just ... wow! Bertha was never like this."
"Who's Bertha?" Gayle smiled, tickling his cheek. "I'll be jealous."
"She's the girl I go out with," Louie stammered. "I did this to her last week. She said she never done it before. Her hole was bigger than yours, though. But you don't need to be jealous of her, Miss Honeycutt. She won't hurt you. I really changed my mind. I don't want to marry her, I'd rather marry you."
"I don't want to steal you away from her," Gayle said. "We'll just have some fun tonight and talk about marriage in the morning!"
Her semi-serious tone reassured Louie, who hugged her tightly.
"Well, now you know what should happen to her," Gayle told him. "Just keep moving your hips like that, and it'll happen to me again. Oh, yes." She moaned and clutched his supple young body to hers. Her legs tightened around his waist and her pussy once more spurted noisily on Louie's prick.
He gasped and came, his cock bouncing against her cervix rapidly. She hugged him tightly and chuckled.
"Time to go, young man," she whispered. They stood up, adjusted their clothes, and once more peeped through the glass. Henry and Graham were sitting on the bed, casually conversing. Billy stood impatiently at the door.
Gayle was surprised at the obvious rapport of the two older men. She decided that Graham was probably not so bad, if Henry could talk with him. That meant her secret was safe-so far.
As they made their way down the stairs and across the basement, Gayle was lost in thought. Two more stops lay ahead of their tour. In a day, they would be flying to Tulsa, Oklahoma. She hoped her movie would not be playing simultaneously with "Speakeasy" in either Tulsa, or Tampa, the last stop. So far, luck seemed to be with her. She knew Graham would keep his peace.
Two down and two to go, she thought grimly.
CHAPTER SIX
The horse's hoof beats slowed to a steady muffled drumming until Gayle came within sight of the bam. As she steered her mount to the asphalt road, she fairly stood in the saddle in her eagerness to see if anyone was at the door of the great white building that was partially obscured by the bam and the surrounding trees.
The lofty old theater housed both stage and work area, and the cast and crew in the second floor actors' quarters. It was to the rear outside stairwell that Gayle turned her eyes.
She had cut her ride in the fields short in order to be on hand when Tien arrived from the Tulsa Airport.
When she got to the door of the theater, she dismounted, tied the chestnut mare to the mailbox post and hurried into the lobby. She went through the door marked DOUGLAS AMMON, MANAGER.
"Hi, Joan," she greeted the secretary typing at one of the two desks in the room. "Did my friend call from the airport yet?"
"Yes, just about five minutes ago," the plain little brunette answered her. "She said she was taking a cab and would be here in fifteen minutes." Gayle thanked her and rushed out the door. She mounted her horse and headed for the stable across the wide yard at a brisk trot.
She was able to deliver the mare to the old stable hand and immediately run back across the yard to the rear of the great old theater, up the outside stairs to the actors' quarters.
She had ten minutes to get the smell of horse and range off her firm, well-tanned body. Her shower was hurried, but thorough.
She was drying her golden-red, sun streaked hair, her skin still damp under her shorts and halter top, when Tien knocked on the door to her room.
"Tien!" Gayle cried, throwing open the door and taking the petite Oriental into her arms. "I haven't seen you in three weeks! I thought you'd never make it here."
"I told you I'd be able to visit you in Tulsa," Tien said, standing tiptoe to kiss Gayle. "Susan sends her love. She sent you a present too, a fringed buckskin vest she made for you in honor of your turning cowgirl. She told me you opened to raves again. Congratulations. How do you like Oklahoma? Pretty different from North Carolina, isn't it?"
"It certainly is," Gayle declared. "I love it here-miles of open countryside, low rolling hills, and every once in a while a lake or a cow pond. There were too many people in North Carolina, some of whom cramped my style."
"Henry mentioned that you'd had some trouble in Raleigh when I telephoned last week. I'm glad you're out of there. Are you okay now?"
"It wasn't anything I couldn't handle," Gayle assured her worried friend. "I just needed a change. I was glad when the show moved to Tulsa. I just miss the cute little red-haired boy I had for my bodyguard. He cried when I left him at the airport. Asked me to marry him, in fact, I promised I'd write to him."
"Susan and I miss you too," Tien said, pressing her hand against Gayle's warm breast.
The two women kissed deeply, fondling each other's tits. It wasn't long before they wound up nude on the bed. Their lovemaking lasted the rest of the afternoon and it wasn't until evening that they had a chance to exchange news and renew old confidences between them.
Tien told Gayle she had arranged for the two of them to take a lesson in skydiving at Tulsa's parachute training school with an instructor she knew.
So it was that Gayle found herself once more at a small, improvised airfield, although she had to admit that this one at least boasted a good sized, paved runway, two hangars and the renovated barn that housed the Skydiving School.
"This place is deserted," Gayle remarked to Ken Allen, the tall, dark-haired, muscular parachutist to whom Tien had introduced her.
"It always is on Mondays," Ken grinned. "Joe and I, our ground assistant, Tony, and our pilot, old Fred, will be the only ones here all day. And Fred and Tony will be busy with other things after your jump. You girls are at our mercy."
"Good," Gayle laughed. "Don't spare us, either."
"Don't worry about that," Ken said, taking her by the hand and leading her to the tree-shaded yard behind the house where the various pieces of training equipment were set out.
Tien and Joe were already there. Tien crouched in the false "door" practicing her exit under Joe's watchful eyes.
"Go!" he called, slapping her thigh.
She leaped out of the mockup in a spread-eagled position, her back arched, leaning into Joe's strong, supporting hand.
"One thousand, look thousand, reach thousand, pull thousand...." she shouted at the top of her voice, performing the motions necessary to pull her dummy ripcord.
"That's a little advanced for you," Ken said, taking Gayle over to a tree where a parachute harness hung suspended over their heads. "Tien is already freefalling. You're just a baby jumper, and you'll have a static line to open your chute automatically. I know, I know," he stopped her interruption with a wave of his hand. "You told me about that first jump of yours. Let me tell you again, you were damned lucky. Here we don't trust to luck to get our students through."
He unhooked a rope from a wooden peg stuck on the tree and lowered the suspended harness so Gayle could step into it.
"You sound like an ad for the school," Gayle teased him as she buckled herself into the harness with a little assistance from her instructor.
He stood back from her when she was completely buckled in.
"Okay, Gayle," he said, taking the rope in his hands. "Now we're going to hang you."
He hauled on the rope and the squeaking pulleys lifted Gayle six feet from the ground.
He put her through her paces on the dummy chute, testing her opening procedure and canopy turns until he was satisfied she knew what she was doing and would not panic once in the air.
He lowered the harness so Gayle's crotch was about level with his face.
"I'm going to show you how to release yourself from the harness in an emergency," he told her, fastening the rope to the peg. "But first, I want to check something out."
He reached up and unzipped the fly of Gayle's cutoff jeans.
"Hey," she laughed. "Just what piece of equipment do you think you're checking out?"
"The most important," he answered with a grin, thrusting his finger into her crotch. Since Gayle wore no panties, he was able to slip his middle finger right into her slit and fingerfuck it lightly.
Gayle writhed in the harness, swinging as she squirmed, her juice wetting Ken's finger.
"Oh, that's good, real good," she moaned. "You parachute freak! I'm stuck in this harness and you're attacking my twat. Oh, but I want to fuck you."
"Okay," Ken said. "In that case, here's your emergency release procedure."
He quickly reviewed the various buckles and straps she was to open. When she had unbuckled the leg straps, she pulled the two metal rings at her shoulders and dropped to the ground, her cutoffs still open at the crotch.
She tumbled into Ken's legs, knocking him off balance. He fell in a heap at her side and they playfully struggled on the grass for several seconds, each trying to roll on top of the other.
In a twinkling, Ken pinned her to the ground and kissed her, his tongue caressing her lips. She sucked his tongue into her mouth and caressed the insides of his lips with her lips. She pressed her body against his, reveling in his hard, muscular frame.
"Okay, you two," Joe called down, tapping Ken on the shoulder. "Time to chute up. The wind's just right for our two students, but it won't last all afternoon."
This time, once inside the plane, Gayle was too nervous to do anything more than smile weakly when Ken patted her knee.
They would jump at three different altitudes. Gayle would go lowest, and therefore first, at 3,300 feet. Tien would jump higher to allow time for her ripcord pull. Ken and Joe, with more than a thousand jumps each to their credit, would be performing a ten-second delay. This meant they would freefall ten seconds before pulling their ripcords.
Tien was doing a "hop-and-pop," which meant she would pull her ripcord three seconds after exiting the plane. She had already jumped six times quite successfully, including one freefall.
Gayle was the real beginner. On her first official jump, as with all students, her ripcord was to be hooked to a static line which was attached to a sturdy half-inch thick wire over the door inside the plane. The line would pull the pins out of her backpack deploying the parachute without any more effort from her than holding her position against the wind.
It was well planned and as safe as possible, but Gayle felt herself a bundle of nerves. She sat in the rear of the old Norseman, watching the ground recede as they climbed high enough for her jump.
The sun flashed through the open door as the plane turned. They were on the jump run now, and Ken signalled Gayle to get in position in the door.
She made her way to the door and got into position for her exit. The wind nearly knocked her back inside, but she held herself firmly. Ken leaned out over her for one final spot check. Gayle prayed everything would go well, her ears filled with the roar of the engine.
"Go!" he shouted, smacking her thigh.
Gayle flung herself out the door, forcing her body into a spread-eagled arch.
For a dizzying moment, she thought she would die. The noise of the engine had stopped abruptly, changing from a roar in her ears to a buzz over her head.
She saw the underbelly of the Norseman, saw the static line that hooked her to the belly of the plane like an umbilical cord. The world seemed to be moving in slow motion.
A small white cloth shot up over her head and she was suddenly jerked to an upright position. She heard her chute open with a whoosh.
She gripped the shoulder straps and leaned back in her harness.
It was perfect; just perfect! The white canopy spread over her head in a circle. She relaxed in the harness and laughed. She talked and sang joyously to herself-high above the sunlit ground, in the middle of the blue sky toward which she had often turned longing eyes. She laughed with only the birds to hear her.
The landscape looked like a huge toy railroad, but it was growing larger by the second. She turned her chute in a complete circle to the left, then to the right, still smiling, the wind in her face, enjoying a view that would be ingrained in her memory the rest of her life.
It was time to get down to business, however. She spotted the landing field, a hundred-foot diameter sand pit, and turned her canopy to face it. The wind speed was less than the forward speed of her parachute, and she knew she would overshoot the field unless she maneuvered.
She held her position for a few seconds, then turned her parachute well before the treetops came into her peripheral vision.
She was facing the five-mile-an-hour breeze when her feet hit the ground. She landed with a thump and immediately fell, rolling as she had been trained.
She recovered and leaped to her feet, shouting and waving in the direction of the plane even though no one could hear.
The ground seemed so solid; she jumped up and down, as if testing its stability. Then she began folding her parachute.
She could hear the Norseman high above her as she worked. When she heard its engine cut, she looked up just in time to see a tiny black speck appear from the side of the silver Norseman and drop away from it.
Almost immediately the engine resumed with a roar and a parachute opened above the black speck a few hundred feet below the belly of the plane.
She watched the parachute descend as she folded her chute. Tien had made a good jump and was now heading for the sand pit where Gayle waited.
She noticed Tony, the young assistant, sitting at the side of the pit. He waved when he saw her looking at him, but did not offer to assist her. He was there for emergencies and would not interfere in whatever the students needed to do to learn their lessons, even when it came to the drudge work of "cleaning up after."
She hooked her parachute into its pack and ran to the center of the pit where Tien was heading. Just as Tien came within fifty feet of the ground, a stiff breeze picked her up and carried her to the outer edges of the pit where she hit the ground and rolled, leaping up with a happy laugh.
"One of the disadvantages of being small," Tien laughed. "Any good breeze can just whisk me away at the last moment."
They excitedly congratulated each other and began repacking Tien's chute. They heard the plane's engine cut again, farther away this time, and it was several seconds before they were able to spot the two falling figures of their jumpmasters.
The two black spots fell longer and farther than Tien had fallen, before they pulled their ripcords and their parachutes opened with a bang. They wore the famous black and orange para commanders. They quickly and efficiently landed on their feet almost dead center in the sand pit.
The two girls fell into the arms of their instructors. Gayle stole her chance to lass dark-haired, Roman-lootlong Joe and ran her hand down the inside of his leg. Then she and Tien exchanged partners and kissed once again. The four looked hungrily at each other and smiled.
"Let's get off this field and celebrate the safe landings of our students," Joe said, hugging Tien to him.
It was a long walk back to the hangar and the parachute shed, especially since they were each carrying their backpacks.
Ken sent Tony home, to Gayle's regret, and the four deposited their backpacks on the four long tables in the long, low packing shed.
The two men opened the four packs and spread the parachutes out on each of the four tables. Ken began showing Gayle how to repack the chute for jumping when their lesson was interrupted by the sight of Joe and Tien climbing onto the table.
Tien's arms were around his neck and her legs were wrapped around his waist. She clung to his breast like a raccoon as he climbed along the table.
He unzipped her jumpsuit and pulled it down over her shoulders. Gayle laughed to see that Tien was wearing only blue bikini panties beneath her white student jumpsuit. These were easily removed by her eager instructor, who slid his face into her black bush as he pulled them over her shapely legs.
Gayle and Ken were turned on enough to begin their own scene. Gayle unzipped Ken's red jumpsuit and the denim shorts he wore underneath. She grabbed his bobbing cock and shoved it into her mouth, sucking hard.
She was able to wriggle out of her own jumpsuit, glad that she was only wearing cutoffs and a middy top that she could quickly untie and discard.
She slipped her fingers beneath her cutoffs and manipulated her sweating crotch until her juices flowed.
Ken helped her get her cutoffs off and she, like Tien, was nude.
Tien lay under Joe on one table, groaning as he sucked her to orgasm. Gayle lay spread out over Ken on the other table, her mouth bringing him to the brink of a tremendous climax, then relaxing, allowing him to get control of himself.
The parachutes beneath both pairs were tangled messes of cloth and line, which got caught over a knee here or an elbow there, dragging along behind the fucking couples grotesquely.
Gayle and Joe almost simultaneously licked a path for themselves along their partners' bodies until their respective crotches were positioned over those of their partners.
Joe began his slow push into Tien's tight pussy with his cock just as Gayle squatted over Ken's upright dick, allowing its bulbous head to disappear between the wet folds of her big-lipped cunt.
She sat down hard on his rod, sinking it to the hilt. She raised her pelvis, toying with the head at her entrance. She noticed that Joe was fucking hard now, sending Tien into spasms of delight.
The tiny Oriental was moaning and throwing her head from side to side. Her long black hair had come undone from the demure bun at the nape of her neck and was spread out over the nylon cloth beneath her.
She cried out as she came, twisting her little hips up against Joe's massive groin. Gayle loved the sight of the tiny Oriental being screwed by the sturdy, strong Italian Joe. She knew that Tien's tiny pussy had to stretch enormously to accommodate his prick.
Her own pussy was tightly wrapped around Ken's dick and she fucked him fast and furiously, the bottom of her ass smacking his groin soundly as she fucked him from a squat.
She sank to her knees when she came, feeling the head of his rod press hard against her cervix. Just as she began to recover, she felt Ken stiffen beneath her.
Her pussy was inundated with a shower of hot sperm. She tightened her hold on his cock by squeezing the muscles of her cunt and lay down on him, her face buried in the crook of his neck.
Joe roared from the table next to them, shouting something in Italian as he spewed into her. Gayle could hear Tien laughing and shouting in both Chinese and English.
It took several minutes for the couples to extricate themselves carefully from the fouled lines and folds of the parachutes beneath them, and quite a while after that for them to untangle and fold them to reuse.
To keep from being bored by the job of folding four parachutes, they interspersed their work with screwing. Gayle finally got her chance at Joe while Tien busied herself with Ken.
As she expected, Joe's rod was quite thick, although average-long. It looked almost square and she marveled that Tien had been able to force her little pussy to open wide enough.
She lay back on the parachute and spread her thighs wide. Joe slid his massive, hairy body between her legs and slipped the head of his cock between the folds of her cunt.
Its broad head pressed flat against her hole, unable to gain entrance. Gayle thrust her hips against Joe's, but his cock kept slipping past her.
"Oh, Joe," she moaned. "I want that thick rod so much."
She braced herself on her feet and lifted her pelvis off the table, arching toward him. He stayed on his knees, leaning one hand over her, his other holding his cock at its base.
She took her pussy lips in the fingers of her right hand and spread them, allowing him to position his cock squarely at her hole.
He took her hips in his hands and lifted her, supporting the slight weight of her hips and legs in his strong arms. As though she were a mere doll, he pushed her body down onto his cock, watching as it slowly disappeared into her pussy, dragging her wet cuntlips halfway into as it slid.
Gayle felt she would split, but her pleasure was so intense she could not control a scream of joy as her first orgasm gripped her.
She locked her ankles behind his back and felt her hips smack soundly against Joe's muscled thighs. He fucked her carefully but nonetheless deeply. When he came inside her, not one drop of their come could escape her hole until he took his limp dick out of her.
Joe and Ken dropped them off at the theater that night, tired and happy. They entered the second floor quarters just in time to see a flash of pink flesh disappearing into one of the rooms off the corridor.
"I think that piece of nicely suntanned ass was Pixie," Gayle said to Tien. "And I think the room she just ducked into was none other than our darling stage managers, Bob Watson. I'd like to check it out. Can you dig it?"
Tien lifted her tired but game face. "You bet. That was a cute little woman I just saw and I'd like a taste of it."
Gayle led the way to Bob's room and entered without knocking.
Bob started up from the bed, dropping Pixie off his cock as he stood up, blushing like a guilty husband.
"Relax, Bob, relax," Gayle laughed. "I'm glad to see you've finally joined the rest of the cast. I've been working on you for weeks."
"He sure has relaxed," Pixie declared, picking herself up from the bed and grabbing Bob's semi stiff prick in her small hand. "He came on to me so strong tonight, I just went nuts. I was hoping it was you in the hall just now. I was coming back from the bathroom when I heard the outside lock.
I figured it must be you, but I ran in case it was the manager or somebody like that."
"Yeah," Gayle said, calmly undressing. "Speaking of our present manager, I wouldn't mind a taste of his prick, either, but I think poor Doug is too straight for that. We'd better keep our little cast parties secret. They couldn't handle it out here in the country."
"Doug's pretty straight," Bob agreed. "We all have to be careful."
He absently stroked his cock as he watched the beautiful actress and her lovely young girlfriend strip.
"Come on, Bob," Gayle whispered in his ear, her fingers twisting his nipples as she pressed her full boobs into his hard body. "We're going to have a scene, you, me, Pixie and Tien. See?"
She pointed to the bed where Tien knelt beside Pixie, stroking the slender young dancer's shapely thighs.
Tien and Pixie were the same size, both quite petite, built similarly also. Both had small, high breasts, unlike Gayle's breasts which were high but very large. Both had slim hips and almost boyish thighs, with scanty pubic hair.
Tien's skin was fair and, her hair jet-black and long. Pixie was very tanned, with sun-streaked blonde hair cut short around her oval face. Tien was a little older, perhaps about twenty-two, while Pixie was only eighteen, a newcomer to show business.
It was Tien who took the initiative, kissing and stroking the younger blonde, running her fingers through the scant pubic hair that concealed nothing of her Venus mound.
Pixie had a dancer's body, supple and strong, and she loved to twist herself into un-likely positions for fucking, a penchant shared only by some of the gay boys.
She lifted her pelvis from the bed and threw her leg around Tien, drawing the Oriental woman closer. Tien brought her tongue to the dancer's twat and ran it up and down her slit slowly, savoring the fresh young taste of the girl's juicing cunt.
Gayle and Bob watched them as they fondled each other's nipples and crotch. Gayle fell to her knees and took Bob's cock into her mouth, sucking like a baby. She knew he was as fascinated by the pair on the bed as she, and she turned so both of them could get a clear view of Tien and Pixie.
Pixie was standing on her shoulders. Tien was on her knees between her legs, her mouth still working on Pixie's blonde bush. Gayle could see Pixie limbering up, preparing for a surprise for her Oriental cuntsucker.
Gayle touched Pixie's breast, milking it firmly between her fingers. Pixie dropped to the bed and got on the carpeted floor beside Gayle and Bob. She motioned to Tien to follow her.
Pixie put her elbows and head down on the floor next to Gayle. Quite easily, she raised her feet from the floor until she was standing on her head and elbows, her hands clasped behind her head, helping support her.
Gayle stopped her work on Bob's cock long enough to push Tien to her back on the floor, her legs spread and her crotch right up against Pixie's upside down face. Her clitoris was within easy reach of Pixie's tongue and from her headstand, Pixie was able to suck Tien's pussy.
Gayle grabbed Bob's cock, pulling him to her. She bent over and pushed the head of his rod up against her pussy from the rear, clearly indicating that he should fuck her dog-style.
He quickly obliged, sinking his rod into her pussy. Holding on to her breasts and playing with her nipples, he fucked her soundly.
From her bent-over position, Gayle was able to take Pixie's legs and spread them, burying her face in Pixie's blonde pussy. Pixie obligingly pressed her slim thighs against Gayle's head, so the redhead could suck her pussy while she sucked Tien's, all the while still standing on her head.
Tien got the best view of the four orgiasts. She lay back on the floor, pinching her own nipples, watching Pixie's chin as the upside-down blonde sucked on her twat.
Above her, Gayle's red head bobbed up and down as she sucked on Pixie's blonde bush, the younger girl's slim legs around her neck.
Tien could see Bob, his eyes shut tight, groaning. He was already coming, pushing his cock up tight against Gayle's buttocks.
Gayle came too, her shriek muffled against Pixie's bush. The sight aroused Tien so much that the merest touch of Pixie's tongue against her clitoris sent the turned-on Oriental into a spasm, her juice flooding the roof of Pixie's mouth.
Pixie gurgled and shrieked her orgasm into Tien's bush. She wobbled unsteadily as she came. Gayle had to hold her up by her legs which were wrapped around her neck. When it was over. Pixie bent at the waist and lowered her feet to the floor.
She immediately lowered herself into a crosslegged position, sitting next to Tien. She was red in the face from her effort but sighed contentedly.
"Super!" she said, smiling at Gayle and Bob who were still locked together. Bob's cock was slowly hardening, before he had even slid it from Gayle's cunt the first time.
Tien laughed and tousled Pixie's blonde hair. "You are amazing," she commented. "I'd like to see what else you can do. And you," she turned to Bob. ' "I can't believe it, but I can see your cock is hard again already. I hope Gayle will give me a turn to ride on it."
"I think," Gayle declared, twisting her hips so her ass ground into Bob's groin, "we are going to be taking turns with each other all night."
CHAPTER SEVEN
Nude, Sadie lay on the table in the middle of the stage. The entire cast, wearing only pieces of their show costumes, or jewelry, or nothing at all, circled the table stroking her, laying pieces of fruit all over her lush body.
Someone had turned two halves of a cantaloupe upside down on her big boobs and Henry, acting as Master of Ceremonies, was grinding one down against her tit which spilled out beneath.
He addressed the dark, empty theater.
"Ladies and gentlemen! We will now witness the Big Gobble. Fifteen separate tongues-count them, ladies and gentlemen, fifteen-will gobble up all the fruit and whipped cream that has been spread on this luscious piece of womanflesh."
Sadie looked like a human fruit salad. From her head to her foot, she was garlanded with fruit. Cantaloupes covered her nipples, whipped cream encircled her bellybutton, slices of peaches and oranges decorated her arms and legs. A bunch of grapes covered her twat and an apple was stuck in her mouth.
"Ready, kids?" Henry said. "Go!"
Fifteen mouths nipped and sucked at her body, biting fruit and flesh indiscriminately, sucking the whipped cream off her flat belly.
They each took a turn nipping a grape off her cunt. They laughed to discover that beneath the grapes her cunt shone, completely hairless. Sadie had shaved her dark pubic hair.
It was Jerry who closed in for the last grape. He swallowed the grape and put his mouth on her shiny bare mound, nibbling until she creamed on him.
"Oh," she gasped, sitting up afterwards. "Too much! I never ... oh, let's do that again."
"No, no, move on, change chairs!" Henry cried. "Time for a new game. Let's get Gayle and her new little boyfriend."
The adolescent boy at Gayle's side looked at her as if for protection.
"Now, Henry," she warned. "I just met Tommy tonight. Don't you scare him away from me. Do what you want with me, just leave him alone."
"Hey, everybody," Jerry announced. "I just scored some fantastic hash. Anybody got a pipe so we can blow some?"
Like magic, several small-bowled pipes appeared. He took four of them and filled them. Pixie lit each one in turn and passed it. By the time she had passed the fourth pipe, her eyes were half-shut and sleepy looking. She smiled and stood up. Instantly she toppled over backwards right into Billy's arms.
"It's Pixie!" Henry cried. "Let's go to it!"
Laughing and struggling, Pixie was carried to the fruit-covered table just vacated by Sadie. She was stripped nude and laid on her stomach, her arms and legs extended.
Cindy Love produced a rope and quickly helped tie Pixie's hands and legs to the legs of the table.
Rock music blared over the loudspeaker system and the cast danced like Indians around the "imprisoned maiden," who was giggling crazily.
Mild-mannered Jim Cole surprised everyone by being the first to leap war whooping onto the table. He straddled Pixie, tearing off his scarlet G-string and waving it over his head.
He spanked her small fanny and finally fell to his hands and knees over her.
He wriggled his erect cock into her pussy and fucked her lustily.
Pixie went mad with delight, screaming and laughing when she came.
Just at the brink of his orgasm, Jim yelled for Marina, who ran to answer him.
He leaped upon his demure little wife, knocking her to the floor alongside the table. She locked her ankles behind his neck as he sank his rod into her pussy. His breast pushing against the backs of her thighs, he nearly bent her over double as he fucked.
Gayle fed Tommy another drink, watching closely as he sipped, noticing that his movements were a little slower and more clumsy. He would soon be ready to join the party with her, or so she hoped.
She heard Pixie screaming in earnest, and found Allan Nadler whipping her ass with a strap.
"Okay, okay, Allan," Gayle admonished him. "Pixie sounds like she's had enough now."
Allan smiled and rolled up his belt. One of the boy dancers dramatically threw himself at Allan's feet, crying, "Do it to me, you big stud! Beat me, rape me! I love it!"
The leather freak was only too happy to oblige and the two men took the center of the stage, the masochist feigning fright but relishing Allan's blows.
Pixie had been untied and lay on her back, her pussy even with the edge of the table. Two of the long-haired, pretty girl dancers were sucking her.
Gayle saw lanky old George fucking Sadie dog-style. She was squirming against his bony loins, grinding every bit of pleasure she could from that well-worn cock.
The boy dancers and Cindy Love were in a heap stage right, crawling all over each other like ants, licking and finger-fucking every available hole.
The other people lay around the stage and the orchestra pit in a variety of positions. It was a dizzying, heady moment for the cast of the show. Eleven different bodies, some of whom Gayle had only spoken to once or twice, during the whole tour.
"Come here, Tommy," Gayle said, seating herself on the prop couch at the rear of the stage.
Tommy, a seventeen-year-old with dark hair and sullen eyes, looked so frightened that Gayle had to laugh.
"Are you nervous, Tommy?" she asked. "It's not your first time, is it?"
"No," the youth said, "but I never been in an orgy before."
"Well, it's like this," Gayle said, unzipping his pants and pulling them down over his slim hips. "You can take your pick and fuck one person, two, three, anyone you happen to take a fancy to. I thought you might start with me."
"Sure," he said eagerly. "It's just that ... well, I get nervous when everybody's lookin' at me."
"Everybody's too busy to stare at you, and if they should happen to look it's just because you turn them on."
By this time Gayle had Tommy's man-sized prick in her fist and was stroking it, bringing her face down to it as she spoke. "Did anyone ever kiss your cock like this?"
Her tongue caressed his cock head and she held it tighter, drawing him on top of her on the couch. Their lips met in a tongue-lashing kiss.
She pushed her twat against the tip of his cock and nestled herself against him so it sank inward.
"All right, folks, this is ... Holy smokes! Will you look at this!"
All activity stopped abruptly and thirteen pairs of eyes turned toward the source of the harsh, startled voice at the side of the stage.
Four men stood at the wings, obviously just having entered from the left stage door. Two of them wore the uniforms of the city police.
Instantly there was a wild scramble for cover and clothing. The policemen tried to be heard above the scuffle and shrieking.
"Everybody stay right where you are! This is a raid! Quick, Charlie, get out the statement," cried the head detective, a tall, heavy man in a grey suit.
The members of the cast were still diving for cover as the second plainclothesman read in a monotone the Miranda statement advising them of their rights.
"Okay, folks, hear that?" the head man said. "That entitles us to make a search of the premises and use anything we find in evidence. Let me tell you, everything we see is sure as shootin' gonna show up in court. Buncha' perverts!" he snorted.
"Everybody just sit down nice and quiet," the uniformed men instructed.
Dutifully, the cast members, wearing various improvised coverings, sat down, gathering around the prop couch at the rear of the stage. The officers went down the line, checking each of their names on a piece of paper which was apparently a listing of the entire cast.
"There's three missing," the second uniformed officer said, studying the list. "Where's Bob Watson, Mabel Mason and Gayle Honeycutt?"
"Oh, Bob's out with a secretary," Pixie chirped, nearly dropping the prop tablecloth she held against herself. "He doesn't stick around after a show. Neither does Mabel. She's asleep upstairs in her room."
"Lucky for them," the officer remarked, making a note on his list. "And how about Gayle Honeycutt?"
There was an apprehensive silence as everyone looked around. Gayle and her young lover had disappeared.
"Well?" the officer said. "Where is she?"
"We don't know," Henry spoke up. He was standing behind the couch, holding a pillowcase from the couch cushion over his prick and balls.
"Well, was she here or wasn't she?" the head detective demanded.
"Did anyone see Gayle?" Henry addressed the cast.
There was a general murmuring and several people shook their heads.
"Well," Henry said triumphantly, "there you are. No one knows if she's here or not."
"Lucky for her too," the detective said. "Whose stuff is all this?"
He indicated the pipes and hashish sitting in plain view on the table.
Once again, there was silence. A few exchanged glances nervously.
"If no one claims it, we can assume it belongs to all of you," the detective announced. "So you're all under arrest for possession of marijuana. Also for public indecency. Okay, men, take a quick look around, then we'll bring 'em all in."
The three subordinate policemen searched the stage and wings, producing a variety of sex tools, dildos, whips, leather anklets, two joints, four bottles of wine, one of gin and a six-pack of beer.
"Looks like you folks were all set for a whopping good time," the head man remarked without humor. "How often do you do this kind of thing, anyway?"
"Oh, all the time," Cindy Love sighed. "Wanna join us? Hey, who shoved me? Did I say something wrong?" she asked Henry innocently.
"Just don't say anything," Henry said glumly.
Just then, Mabel was appeared wearing her bathrobe and slippers, shaking her head.
"Now what have you kids been up to?" she scolded.
"We were just fuckin' around, when these guys bombed in here," Pixie complained. "They say were arrested, Mabel!" At that, she burst into tears.
Mabel put a solicitous arm around her and hugged the nude girl. She patted her on the head and said, "Now don't worry, we'll take care of everything. You lads just behave yourselves, and I'll call Bob and Doug. He's the manager of this theater, Doug Ammon," she explained to the police.
In contrast to their rude treatment of the cast, the police were deferential to Mabel. They called her Mrs. Mason and were careful to make sure she was comfortable. They allowed her to fetch a few articles of clothing for some of the cast members. She was the only cast member present not arrested.
"Hey, look what I found!" one of the officers called from backstage.
Everyone turned to see the officer standing at an open closet, the doorknob still in his hand. At his feet on the floor sat Gayle, licking her lips. Next to her, puffing heavily and rubbing his crotch, sat Tommy, who looked around in bewilderment.
"Okay, lady, you can join your friends on the couch. You must be Gayle Honeycutt."
"That's right," she said, gathering the black cape she had found in the closet about her and proceeding to the couch with hilarious dignity. "How old are you, son?" the policeman asked. "Seventeen, sir," the youth answered. He looked so frightened that the cop had pity on him.
"He doesn't know anything about this," Gayle said. "He just dropped by for my autograph."
"So you were signing it in the closet?" the cop said sarcastically. "There's liquor on his breath, too. You been corrupting a minor, lady? And how do you know he's so innocent of all this?" He indicated the marijuana with a sweep of his arm. "That must mean you do know something about it. This stuff is yours, then?"
"I don't know whose it is," Gayle answered disdainfully. "I just know Tommy has only been here for a few minutes. Can't you see how scared he is?"
"Yeah, yeah," the cop said. "But maybe we'd better bring him along too, as a material witness. Call for the wagon, Joe."
In ten minutes, four more policemen and two more detectives arrived, bringing a paddy wagon with them. They filed the cast out the stage door, leading some to the wagon, and placing the rest in the various cars.
Gayle managed to stand next to Henry so the two of them found themselves with Marina Cole in the back seat of an unmarked car. Tommy sat in the front seat between the head detective on the right and a plainclothesman at the wheel.
"Wipe that satisfied look off your face, Gayle," Henry muttered. "You still have a dribble of come rolling down your cheek."
"Do I?" Gayle murmured, dabbing the guilty spot with the back of her hand. "Oh, Henry, that boy is fantastic. He was scared silly, but bless his heart, he got an erection up twice inside that closet. It was just so awful when that cop opened the door and found us."
"Good thing you'd finished by then," Henry whispered.
"Just barely," Gayle answered, giggling under her breath. "I had just pulled his hand out of my twat when the cop opened the door and we tumbled out."
When they arrived at the police station, there were photographers waiting outside to flash pictures of the semi-nude cast as they were led into the station.
"Should we cover our faces?" Cindy Love asked. "That's what they do in all the movies."
"Hell, no," Henry declared. "We haven't done anything the rest of these stiffs don't dream of doing themselves, if they only had the nerve. I'm not ashamed."
"Nor I," Gayle agreed.
Arm in arm, Gayle and Henry led the way into the police station, walking proudly. The rest of the cast followed their example, smiling, waving and blowing kisses at the photographers.
Once inside, they waited in line as the police filled out forms and fingerprinted each of them in turn. Each cast member was then led to a small green room where they could wash the ink from their hands and sit on benches lining the walls.
There was a camera and stool in the middle of the room. The police photographer set up the camera and pointed to Henry.
"You're first," he said.
"Do shoot my right side," Henry said. "That's my best."
Just then they heard an agitated voice in the corridor outside. It was Doug Ammon, the manager of the raided theater.
"You don't understand," he was yelling. "I've got a show to get on, and criminals or no criminals, I can't afford the loss of a single night. I don't care if you have a police cordon around the stage, these people have got to work tomorrow night!"
"You can have 'em if you want to bail 'em all out," the detective drawled. "But the judge won't be here to set bail until morning. Look's like they'll be spending the night here. Come back at ten a.m."
Doug glanced into the room where they all sat. He started to speak, but sputtered furiously, searching for words. He turned apoplectic red and withdrew.
"I guess we re in for it now," Gayle sighed.
Their mug shots taken, they were led off two by two to their cells. Henry, Gayle, Pixie and Jerry were the last to be led away.
The turnkey in charge returned, shaking his head.
"Don't have no room for these 'uns," he said, indicating the four standing in a row. "'Less you wanna put 'em all together."
"All together!" the head detective echoed. "So they can pervert our clean city jails? Not on your life. They'll spend the night with me if they have to!"
"I'll spend the night with you," Gayle smiled. "You're a little slow, but kind of cute." Her beatific smile belied her words and the detective shook his head in frustration.
"Lock these two up in the main cell with some blankets. They can sleep on the floor. Put the two girls in with Billy Mae Bums."
Like children the four moaned, protesting that they couldn't be separated.
"Get moving," the detective snapped.
Gayle and Pixie quickly found themselves separated from their friends and hustled down a silent, darkened corridor. They were unceremoniously locked in a cell and left in the darkness.
Gayle felt a cold draft against her face and heard the sound of heavy breathing from the far side of the cell.
The cell could not have been more than ten feet square, but it was too dark to perceive more than the forms of the bunk beds in the back.
There was a bare bulb burning along one barred "wall," but it was shrouded with a sheet that was supposed to provide privacy for the use of the toilet beneath.
"Whoozat?" mumbled a sleepy voice from one of the lower bunks.
A Negro woman with frazzled hair leaned up on one elbow, blinked at the sight of the two newcomers and lay down again.
Pixie gripped Gayle's hand fearfully and looked around the steel cage.
"What are they going to do to us?" she whispered.
"Probably just let us out on bail in the morning," Gayle sighed. "But there goes the damn show. Who'd believe in 'Speakeasy' as a great American family show with a cast of perverted pot-smokers?"
She sat down gloomily on the other lower bunk, her chin in her hands.
"Everything was going so well, too," she moaned. "Great reviews, great houses ... oh, how did it happen? How did those cops happen to come in just then? Why did they come at all?"
"I think I'm going to cry," Pixie wailed.
"Don't," commanded a husky voice from the opposite bunk. "I hate cryin'. Hey, you all must be the actors they brought in tonight."
"Yeah," Gayle answered while Pixie struggled to contain her tears.
"I heard about ya'll. We knew they wuz goin' after you, 'cause there'd been talk of dope at the theater and they wanted to check it out. Ya'll got any on ya?" The black woman sat up and faced them, displaying a seemingly attractive face. But in the light of the bulb, Gayle saw a great jagged scar down the woman's cheek and the glint of a gold tooth in the front of her mouth.
"What do you mean?" Gayle asked. "Talk? Who told the police there was dope at the theater?"
"One of your fly-boys scored from a junkie who was busted yesterday. The junkie blew the whistle on ya. But ya'll are okay. The pigs din't have no right to bust in on ya, so ya'll probly git off."
"Funny, how bad news travels fast," Gayle muttered. "We'll be pretty famous by morning, but not in any way our producers will appreciate."
She felt the black woman's eyes on her face.
"You sure are pretty," the woman said. "How long ya gonna be here?"
"I don't know," Gayle answered. "They haven't set our bail yet. Does setting bail take a long time? How long have you been here?"
The woman gave a short laugh that sounded almost like a bark.
"Hell, honey, I'll be here a long time," she told Gayle. "Are you from around here? My name's Billy Mae Bums. Ever heerd o' me?"
"No," Gayle said, glancing with concern at Pixie, who stared at the woman in fascination. Her curiosity overcame her caution and she asked, "What are you in here for?"
"I murdered my husband an' his cuntsuckin' girlfriend," Billy Mae said. "Happen'd two weeks ago. Caught both of 'em in bed an' let 'em have it wit' an axe."
Pixie put her hand over her mouth and backed away. She turned and ran into the shrouded john. Gayle heard her being sick and struggled to control the queasiness in the pit of her stomach.
Billy Mae sighed. "Yeah, it wuz tough. I almos' got away, but they put dogs on my trail an' caught me crossin' a cornfield at six in the mornin'."
She swung her legs to the floor and got up, heading for the john. Pixie emerged and headed for the bunks, giving Billy Mae a wide berth as they passed each other.
Billy Mae coughed and spat into a pail before going behind the sheet. Only her feet were visible to the two women staring at her from the bunks.
"Did she really kill two people?" Pixie whispered, gripping Gayle's hand.
"You heard as much as I did," Gayle said, hardly believing it herself.
She started guiltily when Billy Mae pushed aside the sheet and returned to the bunks, hoping the older woman had not heard their comments.
"Yeah," Billy Mae went on. "I really loved the bastard. I knew for a month that he wuz two-timin' me wit' Clara-that wuz her name, Clara Watkins. She wuz a frien' o' mine. Huh, not much of a frien though! She wuz tough. Sam, he was easy-I got him on the first hit. Clara screamed an' ran for th' door. I hadda chase her aroun' the room, even after I hit 'er th' first time. Tough bitch. She tried to kill me, the bitch. Pulled a gun on me. But it wuz too late."
Gayle interrupted Billy Mae's memories, trying desperately to change the subject. "What is the situation here about marijuana? Are the penalties very harsh, or are they a little more enlightened in Tulsa?"
"They's bad, here, honey, real bad," Billy Mae told her, shaking her head. "Only thing is, ya'll are actors, an' keep to yusselves. Long as ya don't sell it, ya'll c'n mebbe git away wit' it. Besides, doncha have the money men behind ya? The theater an' everybody? Wit' money you c'n beat th' rap."
"What does being an actor have to do with it?" Pixie asked.
"Shit, baby, everybody knows actors are crazy, pot-smokin' sex maniacs," Billy Mae smiled. "All queer, too, aincha? You two gals nelly?" Her leering smile revealed her gold right front tooth.
Pixie shuddered and turned away. Gayle, however, faced the woman fearlessly, even with interest.
"I'm not especially one thing or another," she said. "Why are you asking?"
"No reason," Billy Mae shrugged. "Jus' wonnered. Everybody here's into diff'r'nt things. You know, y'git locked up for a coupla weeks, it gits kinda itchy. Know what I mean?"
"I guess I do," Gayle said. She turned around and lay back on the bunk. She put her feet up and crossed her hands on her chest.
Pixie paced back and forth across the cell. Her slim young body was outlined in the dim light of the bathroom bulb every time she crossed it.
Gayle shut her eyes and tried to sleep. She heard Pixie's footsteps padding across the floor of the cell. She smiled to think that the girl was still wearing only a tablecloth knotted under her arms and a pair of slippers. She opened one eye to see Pixie climbing the walls of the cell. Then the girl moved across the "ceiling" hand over hand, dangling like a monkey.
When she got as far as the bunk wall, she lightly dropped herself onto the bunk above Gayle.
Gayle closed her eyes again and actually man aged to doze off. She didn't know how long she slept, but she was rudely awakened by the sound of thumping and struggling in the cot over her head. She could hear Pixie's muffled screaming and the tablecloth Pixie had been wearing lay on the floor beside Gayle's bunk.
She leaped up from her bunk. Billy Mae was lying on top of Pixie, her naked crotch covering the girl's face. Her own scarred face was over Pixie's pussy and although the light was dim, Gayle saw Billy Mae's tongue lapping at Pixie's open cuntlips. The green prison dress was crumpled around her waist.
"What the hell are you doing?" she demanded. She grabbed Billy Mae by the hair and pulled her head up. She stopped in shock and slowly released the woman's head. Billy Mae grinned and flourished a straight edged razor blade in Gayle's face.
"Tha's right, honey, you jus' behave yourself, now. Little Billy Mae is gonna have a good time, or somebody might get hurt. You jus' stand back while I finish up on this sweet young thing here." She grinned evilly at Gayle and her single gold tooth glittered in the dim light.
"If you hurt that girl, I'll kill you myself," Gayle hissed at her.
"I don' wanna hurt her," Billy Mae almost whined. "I jus' wan' a little fun. She din't want me, leastways not till I convinced her wit' my lit tie razor blade. Don' worry, I wouldn't hurt this pretty little pussy for anythin', but remember, if ya'll start gettin' tough, I got nothin' t' lose."
Gayle stood back, wringing her hands in desperation. She tried to think of some means to stop Billy Mae, but as long as the woman held the razor blade, she could not risk anything. Wounds might heal, but scars remain forever. Gayle shuddered to think of Billy Mae's scarred face and realized that such a wound on either herself or Pixie could spell the end of their show business careers.
Billy Mae held Pixie's cuntlips apart with the fingers of her left hand. Gayle could not see what she had done with the razor blade for the moment, but the middle finger of the black woman's right hand was penetrating Pixie's twat.
Billy Mae dabbed at Pixie's clitoris with her tongue as her finger disappeared into the hapless girl's pussy. Gayle was torn between trying to rescue Pixie from the lesbian rapist, and her fascination with the lusty scene being enacted on the upper bunk.
She saw Pixie's face grinding against Billy Mae's twat as she tried to move her mouth away from the black woman's cunt.
Billy Mae was talking and moaning softly, as if speaking to the girl's pussy and not caring if her words reached Pixie's ears. Gayle heard the endearments and caressing phrases from the mouth of the tough young woman.
She heard Pixie whimper and saw her pussy open and close around Billy Mae's probing finger.
"She came?" Gayle whispered incredulously.
"Sure," Billy Mae nodded. "I know how to make a girl happy. Now for you, Sugartits...." She swung herself down from the bunk where Pixie lay gasping, her face bathed in tears. She held the razor up in front of Gayle's face.
"Let's see you strip, baby," Billy Mae said. Her voice sounded almost masculine.
Gayle slowly took off her black cape and tossed it over Pixie. She too was nude, except for her high heeled shoes.
They were suddenly disturbed by the clanking of keys in the lock of the door at the end of the outside passageway.
"Quick, git behin' that sheet," Billy Mae hissed, motioning Gayle toward the toilet. "An' remember, I'll be layin' right here underneath your girlfriend. If either o' ya'll make one sound, I'm gonna jump right up and cut her throat!"
Gayle already began to doubt that Billy Mae would dare carry out her bluff, but she did not dare take the chance that the woman was bluffing. She darted under the sheet and squatted over the john. She peeked through the curtain to see the turnkey passing through the corridor.
It was the same little man who had locked them in. He shone his flashlight into the cell, lingering on Gayle's shapely ankles beneath the sheet.
"Ya'll are all right in there?" he called out.
"Yes," Gayle called out. "Just leave the door unlatched as you go out." She heard him chuckle appreciatively.
The man shone his light on each of them in turn before continuing down the corridor and through the locked door into the next cellblock.
Gayle emerged from behind the sheet and stood in the middle of the cell. She could see Billy Mae's eyes glittering in the dim glow of the bulb.
"You sure are a beautiful woman," Billy Mae said to her. "C'mere an' lemme touch them big apples o' yours."
Gayle moved reluctantly over to the bed and stood in front of the black woman. The woman's hand gripped one of her big breasts and squeezed. Gayle's light flesh seemed to bulge between the woman's black fingers.
"Go on an' put that booby in the kid's mouth," she said.
Gayle moved close to the upper bunk where Pixie lay. She took her breast in her hand and pointed the nipple toward Pixie's mouth.
"Go on, Sugar," Billy Mae said smoothly. "Jus' put that honey of a tittie into your sweet lil mouf an' suck it. I wanna see you suck, too."
Obediently, Pixie stuffed Gayle's breast into her mouth and sucked hungrily on it Gayle shut her eyes, her trepidation overcome by the pleasure she was feeling at Pixie's sucking as well as the actual thrill she was experiencing at her lesbian rape.
"Sweet lil' thing, ain't she?" Billy Mae grinned. "Now ya'll jus' climb on down to this here low bunk and both o' ya'll git into it. I wanna see some real action between ya."
Pixie climbed down from the top and lay back on the lower bunk. Gayle lay opposite her, her face near Pixie's crotch.
"Go on, gals, suck. I wanna see some real action," Billy Mae said roughly.
Pixie and Gayle buried their faces in each others' crotch and sucked hard and noisily.
"Tha's right, aw, how sweet. Hey, Sugartits," she said to Gayle. "I want ya t' stick that finger of yours up my hole, hear?"
Billy Mae sat on the edge of the bed near Pixie's ass so Gayle could reach her. She pressed her finger against Billy Mae's cuntlips. She sank her finger deep into the woman's twat and fingerfucked her while she sucked on Pixie.
She felt Pixie responding to her mouth despite the coercion, and realized the younger girl was now as thrilled by the wild scene as she was. Her juices were wetting Gayle's Ups. Gayle felt Billy Mae growing wetter on her finger, as well.
The black woman was pumping her hips along Gayle's fucking finger, moaning more loudly at each stroke. Her hips moved faster and she suddenly hissed loudly into the night.
"Ah, yeah, that's it, you beautiful white bitch. Fuck my black cunt, ah, I'm comin' right in your hand, right on top o' all them pretty rings your wearin', I'm gonna cream all over ya!"
Her juice flooded Gayle's fingers, just as Pixie moaned and came in Gayle's mouth. Gayle felt a release of tension in her own pelvis, but did not come until Billy Mae had stopped moving on her finger.
When she did orgasm, it was with a violent spasm that nearly knocked Pixie's head into the wall. Her juice spurted from her, wetting the girl's face. Gayle grunted and rolled over, sliding her finger from Billy Mae's twat.
"Real nice," Billy Mae said. "Now why doncha jus' climb back into bed an' we c'n all git some sleep. But remember," she waved the menacing blade at them. "If I hear anythin' from yas, somebody's gonna git cut."
"You won't hear anything from me," Gayle said, helping Pixie back into her bunk. "I rather enjoyed that, as a matter-of-fact."
"Thought ya would," Billy Mae said. "You seemed like ya might. But I like men better, so's ya'll hafta play wit' yerselves from now on. I got what I needed."
At that, she lay in her bunk and rolled over, her back to Gayle. Gayle sat down on the bunk. She felt a draft and her shoulders and arms prickled with gooseflesh. Discouraged, she climbed back into the bunk and lay down, her eyes wide open.
In the next bunk, she heard Billy Mae begin to snore. Soon even Pixie's breathing became deep and regular. Only Gayle lay awake, worrying about the future of the show. In this way, she greeted the dawn.
She dozed off intermittently. When she opened her eyes, she was aware that light was beginning to pour into the cell from a skylight high overhead. Shadows from the overhead grillwork crisscrossed the floor.
The white light became yellow sunlight as the shadows became darker. She heard the rustle of activity in the outside corridor, and the clanking of keys in the lock. The door opened and a short, wizened Negro woman wheeled a metal cart through.
"Breakfast, girls," the woman called. She picked up a metal mug and banged it against the bars of their cell.
"Aw right, aw right!" Billy Mae's sleepy voice called out angrily.
Gayle sat up hopefully. The smell of coffee reached her and she realized that she was ravenously hungry. She sat up and tied Pixie's tablecloth around her. When she came over to the end of the cell, the woman said, "My goodness, don't you all have somethin' more to wear? Henry!" she yelled through the door behind her. "You fetch these girls some regulation dresses. They don't got no clothes on!"
Two pasty green, too-large dresses were passed to the woman through the door. She in turn passed them to Gayle, who tossed one to a sleepy-eyed Pixie.
Gayle quickly dropped the tablecloth and tied the baggy, calf-length dress around her. She returned to the cell door where the woman was already passing her tray through the slot.
"Is this all?" Gayle cried in dismay. "What is it?"
On her tray was a metal mug of coffee and a metal bowl of greenish-white sticky stuff with a puddle of milk in the middle. Three packets of sugar had been stuck under the spoon, the only utensil on the metal tray.
She sat at a small metal table that was crowded into a comer of the cell and took a sip of her coffee. The bitter liquid burned into her tongue so badly she could not retain it. She spat it back into the well-worn cup.
She emptied the sugar onto the mush in the bowl before poking at it with her spoon.
"That's oatmeal," the woman said. "Eat it up, dearie. It's good for you."
Pixie and Billy Mae joined Gayle at the table. Gayle stirred the oatmeal with her spoon. When she lifted the spoon from the bowl, a large clump of the stuff hung off. She touched it with her finger.
"Feels like rubber cement," she said in amazement. It clung to her finger. She wiped it on the edge of her bowl and pushed her tray away.
"I'm starving," she wailed. "Don't they serve food here?"
Billy Mae shook her head, her mouth full of the rubbery cereal. "Tha's it, honey," she mumbled. "Food here's shit. If ya don' eat it, ya'll starve."
Gayle got up and paced the cell. Pixie too, pushed her tray aside.
"If they would only tell us what's happening," she said. "That's the nuisance of it. Just being stuck here with no news, no one to tell you what's going on."
The old Negro woman came back with her cart to pick up the trays they handed to her through the slot.
"You gotta eat, girlies," she admonished them. "We can't have you getting sick on us now. You're famous people."
"I'll bet we are," Gayle muttered.
Pixie sighed and crossed the cell. She climbed up her bunk and flopped down dispiritedly. Gayle saw the comers of her mouth quivering and her face beginning to screw up.
"Come on, Pixie," she called across the cell. "Come limber up with me. We'll get stiff if we don't practice. Dancers must work every day," she explained to Billy Mae.
As Gayle had hoped, Pixie was happy for the distraction. She hopped off the bunk, put her hands down in the middle of the floor and pulled her legs up into a handstand. She kicked her heels in the air.
"Oh, this feels so good!" she cried. She lowered her legs and stood up, immediately sinking to the floor in a perfect split. "Ouch, why did I try that right away in the morning?" She braced her hands on the floor, one on either side of her forward leg, and swung that leg in a circle behind her. She performed a languorous stretch, her soft, supple body twisted and stretching carefully, until she drew herself up in the middle of the floor, her cheeks shining and her eyes bright.
"Beautiful, Pixie," Gayle said. "I wish I could do all that, but I'll have to content myself with the usual run-of-the-mill warm-ups. Your body is phenomenal."
"I'll drink t' that," Billy Mae said.
"Come on, Pixie," Gayle laughed. "Let's give Billy Mae a sample of our work. It will help get our minds off our problems."
Soon, Gayle's and Pixie's voices were heard in the outer corridors, singing songs from their show. Even without accompaniment, their voices were clear and strong. They were performing one of their dance routines for the matrons and Billy Mae when two uniformed officers came for them.
They quickly finished their dance and looked expectantly at the officers, who were obviously waiting for them. They were led out of their cell and down a long corridor. They stood in the company of the two policemen, nervously peering down the hallway. Gayle suddenly noticed that one of the figures at the far end of the corridor was familiar. Her heart leaped at the confident, easy frame outlined against the light from the distant room.
"Bob!" she cried, running down the corridor and throwing her arms around his neck. "I'm so glad you've come to get us out of here. It was awful! Pixie and I spent the night in a big cage with a murderess. The food is unbelievable crap and I'm suffering from an extreme case of claustrophobia. Get us the hell out of here!"
"Easy, babe," Bob smiled, stroking her long hair. "Doug is in there now with his lawyer and the judge negotiating your price. Bailing out the lot of you is no cheap business. He had to wire the producers to send the money. I think he almost mortgaged his theater to pay the bondsman. What the hell happened, anyway?"
"I wish I knew," Gayle replied angrily. "Suddenly the theater was filled with cops. How or why they came in is something I'd like to know too."
"That fact is probably going to be the thing that gets you all out of this mess," Bob reassured her. "They had no legal right to walk in like they did. Doug and his lawyer are inside arguing with the Chief of Police and the head detective that engineered your bust. The whole thing will certainly be thrown out of court if it ever gets that far. But don't worry." he patted her hand when he saw her anxious expression. "It doesn't look like it'll go so far."
Just then, Doug appeared. He gave Gayle a hostile glance, but did not speak a word to her.
Turning to Bob, he said curtly, "They're willing to work the whole thing out, but not for nothing. There'll be a quiet hearing and fines to pay. But believe me," he angrily turned to Gayle, "these weirdos are going to pay their own fines. It's bad enough I have to pay for their bail!"
His lawyer followed him as he stormed angrily down the corridor and out the door.
Gayle took Bob's arm and they proceeded outside into the hot July sunlight. Three taxicabs and two private cars were waiting to take the assembled cast back to the theater.
Most were still dressed in their improvised rags of the previous night. Pixie and Cindy now wore ragged men's shirts in place of the curtain and tablecloth. Sadie had bound each of her huge tits in strips of bedsheet. The ends of the knotted cloth dangled at the points of her tits. Her improvised "bra" attracted several of the policemen that were lounging in the area. She waved and blew kisses to all of them.
Gayle laughed to see Henry in a numbered prison shirt and baggy pants. She ran to him and hugged him.
"Unnerving, dear, completely unnerving!" He shook his head. "These straights are so crazy, I just can't understand why they do these things." As they drove to the theater they stopped to pick up a newspaper. To Gayle's horror, the story of the bust was printed in headlines on the first page. However, there were no pictures anywhere in the paper.
"Don't worry," Bob again assured her. "The only story that reached the papers was about the marijuana. Doug managed to suppress the story about your orgy. But it cost him a pretty penny in the right places and he's really sore about it. You'd better keep very cool the rest of the run."
"If there's going to be any run after this," Gayle wailed.
"Cookie," Bob addressed her affectionately, "there'll be a whopping good show after this, I promise you. You wait to see how these people down here flock to see the show after the publicity."
"Yeah," Gayle muttered. "They'll all want to see the freaks!"
"Not freaks," Bob smiled. "The pot-heads."
They pulled around the back of the theater and the cast hurried upstairs to relax and change their clothes. There were several copies of the newspaper in the Box Office and they gathered in the Green Room to read about themselves.
Just as Bob had said, the story only contained the facts about the marijuana found on the table in the theater. Not a word was mentioned about any kind of nudity or sex at the home-town theater.
They breathed a collective sigh of relief and Jerry produced from under his mattress a few joints to pass around.
"You kids never learn," Mabel admonished, shaking her head. "Anyway, relax, rest up and have a good show tonight. Cathy in the Box Office just told me that you seem to be selling out for tonight's performance. Very unusual for a Tuesday night."
"We'll give them a show they'll never forget," Pixie piped up.
"Yeah," Henry laughed. "They'll be able to tell their grandchildren they once saw real live pot smokers."
"I just hope we can keep on with the show. After all, we only have one more stop to make," Pixie said.
"I very much doubt a little bit of pot is going to stop this show," Bob stated firmly. "So long as it doesn't happen again, the producers assured me by phone this morning that we'll keep going. So give 'em your best out there tonight, kids. We got a show to put on. After we close at the end of this week, sunny Florida, here we cornel"
CHAPTER EIGHT
"What the hell is that?" Sadie screamed across the airline terminal.
Just outside, framed by two swaying palm trees stood a billboard with the terse inscription: FIGHT FILTH.
Exchanging uneasy glances, the members of the cast of "Speakeasy" climbed into the waiting cabs and sped off to their hotel.
"What's that billboard mean?" Gayle casually inquired of their cabdriver.
"'Fight Filth'?" he said. "It's pretty clear. There's a big stink going on about the dirty movies and bookstores on the South side of town. The editors of Tampa's two newspapers got on a kick started by some itinerant clergyman or other who calls himself Doctor Noman."
"Dr. Noman?" Henry echoed. "What's it all about?"
"Well, this here preacher fella came into town a couple of weeks ago and started preachin' on the South side in the auditorium they hired out to him. Seems he was upset by the sin an' corruption he saw there and talked to these here newspaper editors. Now they started a ruckus to clean up the South side."
"Oh?" Gayle said. "How is the campaign going?"
"It's been goin' on for two, three weeks now," the cabbie answered. "I guess it's goin' right along. But they ain't succeeded in closin' a damn thing. South side's still boomin'. You'll see it. We pass through it on the way to your hotel. Fact is," the cabbie chuckled, "they're openin' a new movie there that's supposed to be the hottest one ever to hit town."
"Oh?" Gayle inquired uneasily. "What's the movie?"
"Name's Hot Kitty' or somethin' like that. Guess I'll go see it before the preacher closes it down," the cabbie said.
Henry and Gayle exchanged worried glances. Gayle lapsed into a glum silence.
As they passed through what was obviously the seamy side of town the cabdriver announced, "This here's the South side. There's your two movie houses and four bookstores."
The street they passed through looked like a small-town Times Square, without the blatant advertising. The storefronts were covered over with white paper and the movie marquees simply said
"Adult Movies," but it was quite clear what could be obtained in this section of Tampa.
The cab slowed just enough for Gayle to read a small poster tacked up on the box office of one of the movie houses.
"Coming Soon: 'Hot Pussycat' with Bunny Boobson."
She barely suppressed a despairing moan and squeezed Henry's hand.
"Now what?" she cried.
Their hotel was right across the street from their new house, the Bennett Theater. Gayle and Henry quickly arranged to have adjoining rooms on the top floor of the fifteen story building. It was an older building with the double doors that opened between rooms so that if they wished, Gayle and Henry could make a single suite out of their two rooms.
She collapsed on the bed, wailing, "Oh, Henry, what the hell do I do now?"
"Play it cool, Gayle," Henry warned. "It's not likely that anyone will ever realize that the star of the latest porn flick is also the star of the biggest family hit show in town. It's just too un-likely."
"You know damn well it's not un-likely at all," Gayle cried. "If this movie thing gets out, I'm finished!"
Henry thought for a minute, then said, "If Billy and I can do anything to help you, let us know. But," he shook his head, "I just don't know, Gayle. Your luck has held out so far. I just hope It can stretch one more month so we can finish this damn tour in peace!"
The show opened the night after their arrival in Tampa. Afterwards, the cast was feted at a champagne party in the hotel ballroom.
The members of the cast stood in a reception line organized by the manager of the Bennett Theater, a handsome thirty-year-old named Glen Willis. Gayle and Henry, standing next to each other, received their congratulations and promises of good reviews from media people who spoke to them.
During a break in the line of people coming in, she noticed a tall, middle-aged man in a stiff-looking black suit standing in a comer, eying them strangely.
He stood a head above the rest of the crowd in the room and Gayle could even determine at a distance of twenty feet that he had piercing blue eyes. His hair was greying and thin on top. He was thin except for a paunch about his middle.
He was frowning at Gayle, but, seeing her eyes on him, quickly relaxed his expression into an oilily smile. He advanced toward the reception area and extended his hand for Gayle to shake.
"Good evening, Miss Honeycutt. My name is Dr. Noman." He hesitated a beat as if he expected her to have some comment on hearing his name.
"Perhaps you've heard of me," he prompted, clearing his throat. "I would just like to say how delighted I am to meet you and how pleased I am with your wonderful family show. It's about time this town enjoyed some wholesome entertainment instead of the filth and pornography that is sweeping the country."
"Well, if you say so," Gayle said, shaking his hand. "I'm glad you enjoyed our show."
"Yes, yes," he boomed. "As for this fine young man," he took Henry's hand and pumped it, "great job! You're a talented fella."
Henry winced at the man's grip and tried to return it as best as he could.
"Were going to make sure that your fine show gets all the publicity it deserves," Dr. Noman went on. "We'll preach about it from the pulpits Publish it in the newspapers! Good clean fun. You young people," he barely restrained himself from shaking an admonitory finger at Gayle and Henry, "you have a good reputation to uphold. Remember, the children of Tampa will be coming to see you."
The eyes of the entire line of cast members turned to the wildly gesticulating figure of the preacher. Glen Willis came over and patted him on the back.
"We sure will appreciate die extra publicity," Glen laughed, trying to put everyone at ease. "But let me introduce you to one of the leading contributors to the arts in Tampa...." He took Dr. Noman by the elbow and led him into the crowd.
The next day, the papers were filled with rave reviews. In addition, there were editorials in the city's two newspapers recommending the show on moral grounds, hailing it as the most wholesome piece of entertainment in the last five years. Gayle's and Henry's pictures were on the front page, singling out their work in particular. Obviously news of their bust had not reached Tampa.
Gayle and Henry, wrapped in comfortable robes, had settled themselves over their morning coffee in their hotel suite to read the papers.
"Will you look at this crap, Henry!" Gayle exclaimed. "Here's a whole page, right opposite the editorial page, written by that maniac Noman. Look, Henry, he writes like he talks, the pompous asshole! I'll bet he's not even a real clergyman."
"Yeah," Henry agreed. "He's probably got one of those degrees they sell off of matchbook covers for five dollars. What does he say?"
"Oh, he raves about the show, but seems very guarded about what he says about you and me. The editorials praise us, though. This one calls us examples of modem American youth, searching for a meaning, or something equally ridiculous. It sounds very Nazi-like to me, the way they talk about us."
"Glen Willis was telling me last night that the two editors and this Noman have been trying to have blue laws passed to close down the porn shops and run their proprietors out of town-with tar and feathers, I should imagine," Henry said. "Apparently they've been on this campaign for four weeks now."
"Well, let's hope they never pay us an after hours visit unless were warned!"
"Also, let's hope and pray they never hear about our bust, or any of the sordid details," Henry added. "All it would take is one phone call to the Raleigh Chief of Police and it's all over." Gayle nodded and turned the pages of her newspaper. Henry put down his paper and picked up an issue of the magazine put out by the University of Florida at Tampa. He leafed through it, reading snatches of articles as he flipped the pages.
"Gayle," she heard him murmur, "take a sip of coffee and brace yourself. I've got bad news."
"What?" Startled, she looked up from her paper. Henry was holding out to her the folded copy of the University magazine.
On the exposed page was the advance publicity shot of "Hot Pussycat," the shot of her astride a man, her back to him, his finger in her cunt. Her face was indistinguishable, but that did not allay the lump of panic she felt rise in her throat.
She snatched the magazine from his hand and read the opening date of the movie two days hence.
"Oh, Henry!" she wailed. "These nuts here will crucify me!"
Henry looked grim. "The advertising promises the hottest show ever to hit Tampa," he said. "That means there's going to be some uproar about it."
Gayle was pacing up and down the room. "I'll be run out of town on a rail," she moaned. "The producers ... my future ... oh, shit, what have I done?"
"Look, you needed money, you were broke and desperate," Henry explained. "And it was something you were able to walk away from and forget once it was over. Don't blame yourself so much. After all, the cities are hip places. Nobody in New York or L.A. would ever hold it against you."
"But this sure isn't L.A.," Gayle muttered, sitting down again. "Stand by me, Henry, whatever happens, okay?"
"I hope that will not become necessary," he said without optimism.
That night and the following night Gayle was on edge. Her performance became more high-pitched, her character seemed more excitable. No one in the cast knew what the problem was, but it was obvious to all of them after three months on the road that something was disturbing their leading lady.
The night after "Hot Pussycat" opened, Bob Watson made his way backstage toward her dressing room. The show had gone badly. Gayle had gone through the performance nearly shouting her lines. Her songs were too fast and she had been pacing around the stage instead of moving with her customary grace.
She was lying on her dressing room couch, her head in Mabel's lap. The older woman was sponging cool water on her forehead when Bob Watson knocked.
Henry admitted him and they sat regarding her in silence, not knowing where to begin. She kept her eyes shut, trying to find relief in the moist sponge on her hot forehead.
"What's going on, Gayle?" Bob finally asked.
Gayle sighed and opened her eyes. "I guess we should tell him," she said to Henry. 'Would you?"
At that, Henry explained to Bob the story of "Hot Pussycat" and its haunting of Gayle during the run of the tour. He finished with the news that it had opened that night in Tampa.
Bob looked grim. "This could mean our immediate closing, especially in view of the rabid sex hunters now on a rampage here." He shook his head. "I hope it stays under the table, but if not, looks like we might all be on our way back home sooner than we figured, with lousy publicity behind us."
"If there's any publicity, it will be coming from those two jerk-off newspaper editors," Henry said indignantly. "They're so in love with this Dr. Noman that they'll do anything he says. She could get away with the whole thing if they don't tell the world that 'Hot Pussycat' herself is also the star of 'Speakeasy.' People don't look the same in life as they do in the movies. The average man would not be convinced that the two were one and the same."
"Let's hope your average man here is either a total sex freak or totally straight, so that he'll see either one show or the other, but not both," Bob said.
"Totally straight people are just hypocritical enough to see both," Gayle said.
"We'll see," Mabel interjected. "I've heard the whole story and I still have confidence in you lads. So well see," she said, smoothing Gayle's forehead.
The next day, Gayle, Henry and Bob were breakfasting in Gayle's hotel room when the bellboy delivered the newspapers to her door. Her fears were confirmed by the front pages which denounced the newest movie in town, and linked the opening of "Hot Pussycat" the night before with every crime that had taken place in Tampa that night.
They turned to the editorial pages of both newspapers to read further denunciations of the movie. Gayle was reading Dr. Noman's column when she suddenly stifled a cry.
"What is it, Gayle?" Bob asked.
"Look," she moaned. "He says here he went to see the opening of 'Hot Pussycat.' He went with these two newspaper editors! John Gray and Thurston Marshall," she read their names. "But all three of them met me when 'Speakeasy' opened." She looked up, puzzled. "Why doesn't my name appear? Do you think they didn't recognize me? Is that possible?"
"Let's see." Bob took the papers and combed them for any mention of Gayle Honeycutt alias Bunny Boobson, but found no mention of either name. "From what you tell me of this movie, it doesn't seem possible that they would not have recognized you." He frowned for a minute, thinking.
"Maybe they just didn't want to seem like such fools," Henry said excitedly. 'I'll bet that's it! They just spend two days putting Gayle Honeycutt on a pedestal, calling her a fine example of Young American Womanhood, so how can they turn around the next day and publicize their mistake? They'd be fools to do so. But they can't do nothing. What do you think they're planning!" The three stared helplessly at the folded newspapers, knowing that the worst was yet to come.
For the next two days, Gayle was a nervous wreck, expecting the whole situation to blow up in her face at any moment. She scoured the papers daily for any mention of a link between the movie and the musical, but found nothing.
While the denunciations of "Hot Pussycat" grew more and more threatening, the praise for "Speakeasy" had vanished from the pages of both newspapers. The running ads for "Speakeasy" were now relegated to the back pages and the papers maintained stiff editorial silence where heretofore they had been ecstatic.
Finally, on the morning of the third day after the movie opening, Gayle received a call from Glen Willis, who informed her that the advertising for "Speakeasy" had been cancelled and the theater s money refunded. When he had inquired the reason from both papers, he told her, he had been curtly informed that he should speak to his leading lady.
"So what's the story, Gayle?" he asked.
Gayle was thrown into confusion. She liked Glen, a good-looking, if naive, young man who seemed understanding and sympathetic, but she was uncertain what his reaction would be. Finally she told him to speak to Bob. She hung up feeling frustrated.
"Oh, those bloody hypocrites," she fumed. 'I'd like to teach them to mind their own business! When are people like these going to stop legislating morality? Don't they ever read the statistics? Don't they know that there is absolutely no correlation between pornography and sex crimes, except for the fact that the underworld controls the porn market? But if porn were legal, the underworld would be out of one of their major sources of income. Don't they realize that it's these laws that create crime where no crime need exist? These insane hypocrites, who never listened to the voice of their own feelings, who believe that they themselves must be angels! They blind themselves to the fact that it's they, the crusaders against sex, who have the greatest hangups and are actually the biggest targets for pornography, more so than the average guy who can take it or leave it!" Henry nodded, his mouth filled with scrambled egg. Gayle paced excitedly up and down, her breakfast untouched on the table.
"They better not bother me," she said, bringing her fist down against the wall. "I'll show them. I'll teach them what hypocrites they are."
The phone rang again. It was Bob, telling her the outcome of his conversation with Glen Willis.
"You don't need to worry about Glen, baby," he comforted her. "He's really cool, only worried, like we are, that these fools might close our show. Far from being outraged, he says he'd like to see the movie himself. He'll do everything he can to protect you and the show. He says it's the best show he's had in years. By the way," Bob added, "he tells me that the Box Office of 'Speakeasy' increased tremendously in the last three days, even without any advertising or any mention of the show in the papers."
"Makes me wonder what the word-of-mouth is around town," Gayle said.
"I'm sure it means that the show is great, not that anyone has discovered that our star is also the sex goddess of the cinema," Bob said.
They spoke for only a few minutes and hung up. Gayle had just stepped away from the telephone when it rang again. She didn't recognize the voice on the other end.
"Miss Honeycutt," the gruff voice said. "My name is Thurston Marshall. I'm the editor of the Tampa Tribune. I believe we were introduced at your opening night party in the hotel ballroom?"
"Oh, yes," Gayle said, hoping she sounded more confident than she felt. "Of course. Thanks so much for your flattering comments on our show. I don't believe I've spoken to you since that night."
"No, we haven't spoken since," Marshall said. "Are you free tonight after your show? Dr. Noman, Mr. John Gray and myself would like to pay you a visit. Business, of course."
Gayle felt scared. The thought of meeting alone with this man or his friends chilled her. She hesitated only a moment before an idea flashed into her head.
"Sure, yes, I'll be free tonight after the show. You know where my hotel room is. Why not come over here?" She made her voice sound as pleasant and as inviting as possible.
"Fine," Marshall said. "We'll be by about an hour after the show. Got to give you time to freshen up." He laughed uncertainly.
When they hung up, Gayle explained her plan to Henry.
"You want us to tape your interview with these freaks?" he said. "Fine, but I have a better idea. This theater owns video equipment and I know how to operate those cameras. We'll videotape the whole thing right through the partition between our two rooms. Oh, I love intrigue I" Henry cried excitedly.
"Let's do it," Gayle said. "Put a hole in the door if you have to, just get it on film. We'll set the whole thing up right now. Oh, Henry, we'll teach them a lesson they'll never forget!
She laughed happily, for the first time in three days.
CHAPTER NINE
Gayle stood very straight in front of her full length mirror, narcissistically caressing a billowing breast in each hand. Her robe was cinched tightly at her slim waist, the sheer black silk straining to cover her nipples and gathered at her waist.
She passed the palm of her hand over her exposed cleavage and gave a quick turn so the black-laced silk robe billowed around her shapely legs, opening all the way to her auburn pubic hair.
"Gorgeous, honey," she heard Henry's muffled voice through the door. "Move over to the top of the bed. I want to see if I can get it in."
She waltzed over to the head of the bed and cast herself across the pillows, her arm over her forehead.
"How do I look?" she called out.
"Beautiful," Billy's youthful voice answered her. "But don't shout like that. You're lying right near the microphone. You just blasted my ears."
"Sorry, Billy," she chuckled in her normal speaking voice. "I guess I'm just nervous. I'm about to give quite a performance, you know."
She sat up to answer the telephone on her bedside table. The hotel desk clerk announced the arrival of John Gray, Thurston Marshall, and Dr. Benjamin Noman.
"Here we go, boys," Gayle whispered into the right bedpost, just as she heard a knock on her door.
The "committee" of three that greeted her were reserved, but polite. She ushered them into her hotel room and sat them on the couch near the windows. They introduced themselves to her, each in turn.
Thurston Marshall, who had set up this interview with her, was a gruff, sturdy man of fifty-six, with muscles like a twenty-five-year old. Although he took the drink she offered him, he explained that usually he drank only fruit juice and milk. Natural foods, he said, were what kept him young and strong, and his hair from turning grey.
He blushed like a schoolboy when Gayle complimented his thick head of pepper-and-salt colored hair. She admitted to herself that he was an attractive man, considering his age and mentality.
John Gray, on the other hand, was thin and acerbic. He looked at her stonily when she offered him a drink, and took only orange juice. However, he pulled a brown paper bag from his suit jacket and poured a healthy shot of something into his juice. What remained of his hair, at age fifty-four, was light brown and clustered around the top of his forehead and his ears. Like so many men his age, he made the mistake of combing four or five strands of hair over the very obvious bald spot on the crown of his head.
Dr. Noman frowned at his alcohol-drinking companions, but said nothing. He took the orange juice that Gayle brought him, and cleared his throat noisily, but his companions took no notice.
She collected their suit jackets and hung them in her closet, winking to her friends on the other side of the dividing door as she passed. Although it was the end of July all three men had worn suits, of varying tastes, it was true, but obviously intending this to be a formal visit.
Dr. Noman coughed and nudged Thurston Marshall to begin. He had been telling Gayle about his ranch forty miles away, warmly responding to her interest. She was amused to notice how often his eyes strayed to her open cleavage, squinting to see through the flimsy black silk that barely covered her nipples. Of the three, he was most openly responding to her sexy appearance and accommodating attitude.
"Miss Honeycutt," he cleared his throat and began. "Two days ago, a film opened in Tampa. We, as concerned citizens, felt it our duty to see this film in order to fairly present our case to the public."
"Oh?" Gayle said. "And what is your case?"
"Come, come, Miss Honeycutt," John Gray interrupted in his pinched, nasal voice. "Surely you are aware of the great Decency Campaign sponsored by our two newspapers? We are attempting to clean out the infamous South side, Tampa's hotbed of crime and corruption."
"Are you succeeding?" Gayle asked, smiling as she casually sipped her drink. She nestled herself into the cushions of the couch, crossing her legs and incidentally drawing herself a little closer to Thurston Marshall. Out of the comer of her eye, she saw him staring at her bosom, and knew he must be smelling her perfume.
"That is beside the point, at the moment," John Gray snapped. "The point is, we saw this movie three nights ago when it opened, and have come to you to...."
"Please, John, allow me," Thurston Marshall interrupted. "If by some chance we were mistaken and if this lady is ... ah, not what we think, it could be very embarrassing. Allow me."
He turned to Gayle, smiling. "You see, my dear," he began, taking Gayle's hand between his and squeezing it, "when we saw this movie, we received the shock of our lives. The actors in this film were performing every perverted, disgusting act imaginable and everything they did was displayed on screen in lurid detail. The leading actress...." he coughed, "well, she certainly dragged herself through the mud and all of Woman-kind with her. Now, we know it is a difficult career choice, to become an actress, and we, even in a small town like Tampa, have some idea of the sin and corruption in New York, and in show business."
"What we wanted to know," John Gray said, "is if you at any time in your career were ever involved in anything like that."
"Like what?" Gayle asked innocently, twisting her body to face John Gray, who stood at the arm of the couch behind Thurston Marshall. Her right breast instantly popped out of her robe, her nipple slipping past the outer edge of the material.
Gayle was aware of her position and was amused to see the sweat on Thurston Marshall's brow. John Gray, although still looking sternly down at her, flinched at the sight. He tried to recover himself, but seemed unable to focus his eyes on her earnest face. Gayle felt Marshall's grip tighten on her hand.
"Like ... like...." John Gray was stammering, "have you ever made any indecent films in your career as an actress?"
"Gentlemen, you distress me," Gayle said, tears actually filling the corners of her eyes. Agitatedly, she got up and paced the room, seemingly un aware of her exposed nipple. She felt three pairs of eyes burning into her breast. Dramatically, she tinned and sat on the lower edge of her bed, her hand to her forehead.
"It's very true," she sniffled, "that show business is filled with the dregs of society. Vice rules in New York, the hotbed and source of pornography. And my career, like that of so many young hopefuls like I once was, has had its depths as well as its heights." She paused for effect, allowing tears to stream down her cheeks.
Dr. Noman, who up to this point had not spoken, came over to her and put his hand on her right shoulder, his fingers touching just the top of her exposed breast. "My dear, if this is difficult for you, so much the better. The church welcomes those sinners who repent their life of vice." His fingers involuntarily tickled Gayle's tit, inching slowly downward toward her nipple.
Noman was about to continue when Thurston Marshall sprang up from the couch and hurried over to the bed. He stopped short, as if held back from Gayle by Dr. Noman's imposing presence at her side. His eyes betrayed his lust for her, though he remained silent. It was John Gray who broke the spell.
"Look at her," he snapped. "Look at the way she's dressed! Can't you see what she really is? Do you have to have the words from her mouth admitting she was the slut in the film? I don't need any such admission from her to convince me we were right! She's no lady, she's a whore, and doesn't deserve this soft-soap."
He strode across the room and stood over her, shaking a bony finger just inches from her nose. "Admit it, you are 'Bunny Boobson', the star of that disgusting movie! Tell my foolish friends here what a whore you are. Tell them how much you enjoyed making that film and doing all those terrible things. Tell them...."
"Please, John." Dr. Noman drew himself up with dignity. "If her soul can be saved, if she indeed repents, it's never too late for a fallen woman to pick herself out of the gutter."
"Unless she enjoys rolling in it," Gray snarled. "Look at her, sitting there with tears in her eyes! She's making a fool of you, Ben. She's trying to make fools of all of us, with her nakedness and sinfulness...." In his wild gesturing so close to Gayle's face, the back of Gray's hand smacked soundly against Gayle's huge, naked breast.
Gray stopped talking, his eyes fairly bulging from his head, shocked at what had happened.
Gayle burst into tears, her eyes on her breast where a slight reddishness was appearing. She did not tuck her nipple back into her robe, but instead cupped it protectively in her hand.
Marshall fell on his knees at her feet, clasping her free hand in his. "He didn't mean what he said," Marshall said, the alcohol on his breath filling Gayle's nostrils. "He gets carried away. I mean even if you made the movie, he shouldn't talk to you like that...." His fervent words broke off and he leaned up and kissed her breast where Gray had struck it.
As if a spell was broken, he immediately grabbed her other boob and yanked it out of her robe, tearing the material in his frantic efforts to fondle her tits.
He buried his face in her bosom, pinching and kissing her nipples. His elbows dug into her thighs uncomfortably.
"Thurston! Thurston! Do you know what you're doing?" Dr. Noman cried. "She was on the edge of repentance, a converted sinner!"
Marshall paid no attention. Rather, he took Gayle's robe and opened it, exposing her entire body to their sex-starved eyes.
"Beautiful," he whispered huskily, pushing her back on the bed and sinking his face to her crotch.
John Gray took her wrists in his hands and drew them over her head, pulling her back until she lay on her back on the bed, her legs spread. Marshall kept his face between her thighs, licking her pussy, following her body as it moved back along the bed on his hands and knees, like an oversized puppy.
Gray held onto her wrists, leaning over her on the bed, his face near hers. Gayle smelled the powerful alcoholic concoction with which he had spiked his own drink and knew it must be a home brew.
"Slut! Whore!" He was hissing every vile epithet he knew in her face, the smell on his breath nearly causing her to faint. He put his mouth on her billowing tit, biting and sucking it between insults. Then he brought his mouth to hers and kissed her, shoving his tongue deep into her throat.
"Oh, you love it, don't you!" Gray snarled, leaping up and dropping his pants. His cock stuck out through his white underwear like a big long bone. He jumped up on the bed and straddled her chest, shoving the edge of his cock right up against her mouth.
Gayle obligingly took it between her lips, noticing that even his prick smelled like alcohol, but grateful for alcohol's antiseptic properties.
She had only been sucking for a minute when Gray came all over her face, spewing his bitter sperm all over her mouth, neck and chest.
He jumped up and grabbed her wrists again, just as Thurston Marshall clambered up over her on the bed, nude from his ample waist down, except for socks and garters.
He held his little cock in his fingers. It was so small Gayle feared it would disappear inside her, but she was surprised to find her pussy wrapped itself around it just as tightly as if it had been as big as Gray's mammoth dick.
He shoved it into her whispering the most affectionate endearments he could think of into her face.
"Oh, you darling woman," he moaned, "you sweet, luscious young thing! I love the taste of your dear little pussycat, so luscious. You beautiful, tender piece of flesh, can you feel my big cock inside your sweet little hole?" He rolled his ass around as if stirring her pussy with his rod.
Gayle moaned, enjoying his fucking. Even if he wasn't long enough to hit bottom, he was fucking the hell out of the sides of her pussy. She came with a shudder, spilling her own come over his little prick.
He fucked in and out, stiffening abruptly to cream inside her. His come dribbled out of her and down her thighs as he drew back and knelt up, cream still spouting weakly from the tip of his prick.
As Marshall rolled over to one side of her, Gayle lifted her head to see Dr. Noman at the foot of the bed, mumbling to himself. He had a pocket camera in his hands and was taking shot after shot of her open, cream-covered, crimson pussy. He leaped up and continued shooting, taking her breasts and ass, which she so kindly rolled over to show him.
She saw the enormous bulge in one leg of his trousers that extended almost to his knee. She sat up on the bed, dropping what was left of her robe from her shoulders.
She held out her arms to him, and cried, "I repent! Forgive me! I want the saving grace of eternity to be mine!"
"Then you shall have it," Noman cried, tearing off his belt and allowing his pants to fall to the ground. He ripped off his underwear and leaped into her arms.
He knelt on the bed, resting on his heels. He took her under her armpits and drew her body to his. Marshall came to his aid and stood up on the bed, gripping her around her waist. Together they lifted her bodily up over Noman's mammoth erection and lowered her gently onto it. As she slid down his shaft, she felt it pushing into her all the way to her navel. It indeed surpassed anything she had felt before, and she thought she had had the largest inside her.
She was unable to move, impaled as she was on that big prick. Noman held her around her slim waist, while Marshall knelt behind her. She felt him poking at her asshole, heard the sound of spitting, and suddenly felt his tiny prick pushing its way into her behind.
John Gray, hovering around the edge of the bed in frustration, leaped up alongside the sex sandwich and grabbed Gayle's temples. He turned her head so she could take his reviving rod into her mouth again.
There was much muffled grunting and shoving as all three men tried to fuck their pricks into Gayle's orifices. She was stuck between them, and could not have escaped if she tried.
Noman was mumbling something, his eyes heavenward. Marshall gripped her nipples from behind and salivated in her ear, calling her "Sweet" and "Sugarhole," all the while Gray was verbally abusing her as he fucked her mouth.
When Noman came, it was with a roar that knocked the other three down on the bed. Gray shot a quick burst of cream into her mouth and she felt a trickle of moisture oozing from her ass, indicating that Marshall, too, had come again. Those two men released her, but she was still locked firmly onto Noman's prick.
He stood up on the bed, lifting her body with his. Her feet were off the bed and she quickly locked them around his waist. She was bent over backwards and hung upside down from his cock, held there by the tightness of her pussy and her legs around his waist.
He waved his arms wildly and screamed a few words about heaven and hell. When she felt him swaying slightly, Gayle released her ankles and allowed her ass to slide down his legs until she was lying on her back at his feet.
She rolled to one side and got off the bed, step ping over John Gray, who sat on the floor next to the bed, leaning against her night table. Marshall was on his knees on the other side of the bed, his head in his arms, leaning on the edge. Noman still stood there, swaying slightly. Then he fell to his knees and flopped face down on the bed, exhausted.
Gayle picked up his camera and held it toward the door that divided her room from Henry's. Then she stepped back, indicating the three exhausted men with a sweep of her arm. She stepped forward again, still facing the closed door and took a long, low bow into the camera. She stood proudly, gesturing to indicate that the three men also deserved applause, then bowed again.
She heard laughter behind the door and knew her operation had been a success.
CHAPTER TEN
"Look at the size of that man's dick! Why didn't we invite him to come tonight?" Sadie cried. "Good grief, Gayle, how could you do it? Look, there it goes, right into her. Oh, my pussy is aching just seeing that."
"Will you look at that ridiculous man puffing and heaving behind her?" Cindy Love laughed. "Looks like fun, all the same."
"Did it hurt?" Allan Nadler asked. "How did it feel? Was it painful, being fucked by such a big one in your cunt and one in your ass at the same time?"
"Not at all," Gayle laughed. "Can't you hear me moaning? I had the time of my life! Of course, I could have wished for better-looking men, but it was the idea of it, knowing who they were, that turned me on so much."
"Henry sure is a good cameraman," Billy said. "You should have seen him getting all this on film. I practically had to hold him to keep him from running out into the room to get the angles he wanted."
"Good thing he didn't burst in," Gayle said. "We wouldn't have gotten all this on film. We freaked them out enough just showing them our equipment after it was all over."
"What did they do when you confronted them with the videotape?" Pixie asked.
"Nothing," Gayle replied. "What could they do? They gave in to all our demands. Haven't you read the newspapers since then? 'Speakeasy's' advertising is as bright and bold as it was when we first opened, and the show did beautifully the rest of the run. I think our last performance tonight was certainly one of our best."
"It was the most fun I've had with my part since the show began," Henry agreed. "I was so excited just thinking of the cast party we'd be having later. I've been dying to show the rest of the cast our little film, Gayle."
"Everybody loves it," Marina Cole put in. "You've not been one of the most active orgiasts, Gayle. You usually bring in people from the outside for yourself, instead of fucking the rest of us.
"I've fucked every one of you, too," Gayle protested. "It's just that after four months of living and working together, it gets to feel like incest. Besides, how can anyone blame me for bringing in my fantastic Oriental friends here, Tien and Susan. They flew in especially for our closing night party."
Susan laughed. "I just can't get over this film. Oh, Gayle, that big preacher with the big cock is too funny."
"By the way," Henry said. "I found out we were right, Gayle. That dude Noman wasn't a real preacher at all. He was a sex freak who just decided to get his kicks from attacking sin and corruption from the other side."
"What do you mean?" Tien asked. "How do you know?"
"I checked him out with the police," Henry said. "Don't look so surprised. I've got a friend who's a deputy sheriff in Atlantic City. I sent my friend Noman's camera. He took the fingerprints from it and sent me the information that Noman has been arrested twice. Once for public indecency-he exposed himself to two twelve-year-old girls, and the second time for selling pornographic pictures in a schoolyard."
"Imagine that," Susan Ho said, her eyes still on the screen.
On screen, Gayle was just taking her bow into the camera.
Everyone laughed and applauded.
Billy flipped the lights on. Everyone looked around, to find the orgy had already begun. Marina Cole had impaled herself on her husband Jim's cock. She was seated in his lap, facing the screen.
Jerry, the lithe young dancer, was crouched at Allan Nadler's feet, kissing Allan's big cleated boots. Pixie and Cindy Love were tongue kissing, tweaking each other's nipples.
Glen Willis, the manager of the theater, was on the floor with Tien. His cock was poised at the entrance to her pussy when the lights came up. He blushed, but went ahead, sinking his big cock into her up to its hilt.
"Great! Just great;," Sadie applauded him. "My turn next?"
"Sure, Sadie," Glen gulped between strokes. Satisfied, Sadie turned to George. "Hear that, George? We got five or ten minutes. Let's get busy." She dropped to her knees and took George's knobby prick into her mouth, quickly bringing it to hardness. Then she lay back on the floor and spread her ample thighs, drawing the thin man between them.
"Gayle!"
Gayle jumped at the sound of Bob Watson's voice at the door. She hurried over to him.
"Are you coming in, Bob?" she asked. "Or shall I go with you?"
Noticing Glen Willis on the floor with Tien, Bob stepped inside and closed the door behind him.
"I'm coming to you, Gayle," Bob said, gathering her in his arms. "I'd like to get into your friends, Tien and Susan, but first and last, I want you." Happily, Gayle responded to his passionate kiss. They sank to the carpeted floor and undressed each other, tossing aside articles of clothing in their haste.
Gayle turned her body so she could suck Bob's erection while he sucked her auburn pussy. His tongue played with her clitoris for several seconds before sinking deep into her pussy. She licked the head of his rod before closing her lips over it and sliding her mouth all the way down his shaft.
Susan Ho came to lie alongside them. She first assisted Gayle, and the two women took turns sucking Bob's cock and his balls. Then Susan turned her attention to Gayle's pussy. She sucked her golden-red bush while Bob got into position over Gayle, who lay on her back, her fingers in Susan's twat.
Bob slid his erection deep into Gayle, Susan still licking at his nuts. The acrobatic Oriental sucked their joined organs for several minutes before allowing Gayle to pull her towards her face.
She knelt over Gayle's face, a knee on each side of Gayle's head, her pussy down over Gayle's mouth. Bob knelt up, screwing his rod into Gayle while sitting on his heels. From this position, he was able to suck Susan's big firm breast as he fucked.
She came into Gayle's mouth twice, her juices spilling over Gayle's cheeks. Gayle arched her body, forcing her pussy to take the last inch of Bob's cock.
When she felt its bulbous head pounding against her cervix, her juices welled up inside her and her ass smacked repeatedly against Bob's thighs.
She heard Bob's yell, muffled by Susan's big tit just as she felt his juice flood her twat.
They slowly untangled themselves from their heap on the floor. Tien and Glen joined them, bearing mixed drinks and a joint of marijuana.
"Good grief!" Bob said. "Why haven't we gotten together more often?"
Gayle laughed and hugged him. "Are you just finding out, you big stud, how well we fit together down there? Like two pieces of a puzzle."
"Must be a jigsaw puzzle," Susan laughed, "because the rest of us fit you two pretty well, also."
"Fantastic," Gayle cried. She kissed Bob on the lips, one hand on Tien's breast and the other gripping Glen Willis's cock. "Let's see how many combinations the five of us can come up with tonight."
"Sounds great," Tien said. "By the way, I am flight directress on your flight back to New York tomorrow."
"You're kidding!" Bob said, incredulously. "Are we in for another flight like the flight to Raleigh?"
"I hope so," Tien said. "It's a night flight, so there probably won't be anyone else except the cast of 'Speakeasy' on board. That is, the cast, Susan, and Carol."
"I have news for you too, Tien," Gayle said. "Something I've already told everyone here. I have a lead in a movie! A musical. My agent called me last night from New York."
"Great! Oh, how exciting!" Tien and Susan cried at once.
"It looks like you have a lot to look forward to," Bob said, taking Gayle's hand and giving it a confidential squeeze.
For her answer, she put her mouth down on his cock and sucked, sliding his shaft deep into her mouth.
"Cocktails! Cocktail time!" Henry called, waltzing to the comer behind the couch where the five were lying. "Here, Gayle, drink this," he said, offering her a glass of Coca Cola. "Mmm, that's a nice cock you've got there. Too bad you won't let me have a taste."
"Maybe someday, Henry," Bob said. "But only if I can't find a woman. That's just how I am."
"I know, you lovely man," Henry sighed. "Well, as long as it's Gayle, I can almost feel like I'm doing it myself. Enjoy it"
He returned to the center of the room. Billy greeted him with a deep kiss.
"What's that stuff, Gayle?" Bob asked, pointing to the glass in her hand.
"Coca Cola mixed with mescaline, if I know Henry," Gayle laughed. "Here, take a taste. We'll trip the night away, if Henry slipped us a mickey of mesc."
"Here's to you, Gayle," Bob toasted. "To you, and to the Legion of Decency you gang-banged, thereby saving our jobs."
"And here's to the very intelligent judge who dismissed our case yesterday in Tulsa!" Henry cried.
"Here's to the luckiest bunch of people I've ever heard of," Glen Willis declared. "I thought for sure I'd have to ship you back there."
"Not a bit of it," Henry said. "They threw the case out. Seems it was an illegal entry. Yeah, he's right," Henry addressed the cast. "Here's to us, the luckiest, craziest bunch of actors west of Broadway!"
"We live out all fantasies! Perform all kinds of acts! Cheers for 'Speakeasy', now officially titled 'Fuckeasy'!" Bob cried. He took a sip and passed the cup to Gayle.
The rest of the cast;, who had stopped their screwing for a general toast, picked up where they left off, leaving Susan, Tien, Glen, Bob and Gayle standing in the middle of the biggest orgy they had ever seen.
The five of them shared the drink. The movie on the video screen was somehow running backwards. The come disappeared back into their cocks, and the figures ran backwards on screen.
Gayle and Bob cuddled together, laughing.
They kissed, totally absorbed in each other, despite the activity around them.
Old George came over and flopped his lanky frame onto the couch. Right at his heels were Sadie and Cindy Love.
"Aw, c'mon, Sadie, I need a break," he complained.
"Will you listen to him?" Sadie exclaimed in her inimitable Bronx accent. "Two gorgeous girls wanting to suck his cock and he says he wants a break. Here, Cindy honey, you just suck on my shiny pussy for awhile right here in front of this man. Maybe we can get him excited that way." With a grin, Cindy dropped to her knees and put her face up against Sadie's clean-shaven crotch. With a sidewise glance at George, she darted her tongue at the lips of Sadie's pussy right on the older woman's hooded clitoris. Her slender fingers tweaked the woman's bulbous breasts, and pinched her nipples.
George just turned his head and moaned. "You're gettin' me all excited again. I'm going to have a heart attack. Man my age shouldn't have to work this hard," he muttered. "Damn women. Can't just come once, like any decent person. Hell, no, they gotta keep on comin' and comin' till your damn cock is just about wore out!
Gayle nudged Bob and laughed. She knew George loved every minute of Sadie's relentless pursuit of his lean, long rod. The routine they went through never ceased to amuse the rest of the cast members.
They heard Tien moaning and turned to see Susan licking her tits and Glen sucking her pussy. Susan's hands were running along Tien's shapely sides. Glen's face was nose deep in Tien's cunt. The young Oriental was writhing beneath their tender ministrations, gasping at each move of Glen's tongue on her clitoris.
Susan's tongue slowly crept lower on Tien's body until she was kissing Glen's face. She darted her tongue out, meeting his on Tien's cuntlips, but he would not relinquish his hold on her pussy.
Susan kissed his face, shoulders and chest, sliding herself down along his body until she was at his ass. He raised himself so his weight was supported on his elbows and knees. In this way, Susan was able to wriggle her lithe body between his thighs and take his cock into her mouth.
Tien moaned and jerked her hips. She came into Glen's mouth, her thighs pressing the sides of his head. She did not subside, but continued to writhe, her hips beating out a steady tattoo, marking her repeated orgasms. Glen did not let up until she lay exhausted on the floor before him.
Only when Tien moved her groin away from his mouth did Glen turn his attention to Susan, who was laboring over his cock.
He knelt up over her chest and supported her head so she could suck him. Gayle and Bob watched the expressions crossing his face as he struggled to hold back his orgasm.
Finally, he pulled his dick out of Susan's mouth and lay over her.
"I don't fuck men," Susan began to protest, but too late. The young theater manager had forced his cock into her twat. He moved his hips in a circle, stirring his rod in Susan's pussy.
"That feels good," Susan moaned. "I don't usually do this. It's just that you feel so damn good...."
From their angle, Gayle and Bob watched the muscles of Glen's ass tightening and releasing as he fucked Susan. Her feet dangled in the air over his back.
As Gayle stared, Susan's feet seemed to grow larger. She became worried that the girl's feet would hit Glen in the head, knocking him unconscious.
"I didn't know Susan had such big feet," Gayle whispered incredulously to Bob. "Look at that, her feet are as long as her arm!"
"Funny," Bob said, squinting at the fucking couple. "I was just thinking how tiny her feet were."
Instantly Susan's feet shrank to minuscule proportions. "Oh, boy," Gayle said. "Whatever Henry put in that coke sure is doing something to me."
"Me too," Bob said.
Gayle turned to him. His eyes were large and luminous. They seemed to bum with some inner fire. She looked deeply into his eyes, very aware of the pressure of his hands on her nipples. She could see her reflection on his cornea.
She looked down and gasped. He sat cross-legged on the floor in front of her. His cock stood straight up clear to his bellybutton. It seemed to her to be growing larger by the minute.
"I'll never be able to put that thing into my hole," she cried. Her pussy fairly ached with desire, but her fear was genuine. Bob's cock indeed seemed far too massive for her to handle.
"Then let me have a quick taste," she heard a laughing voice above her.
Henry dropped to the floor and put his mouth over Bob's cock. Gayle was startled by his sudden appearance, but leaned over to kiss Bob on his mouth. With Gayle to distract him, Bob was not displeased to feel the sucking he was receiving from Henry's well-practiced mouth. Henry did not stay long, but jumped up with a smile. Billy was standing nearby, his cock still hard, waiting for Henry's return.
"Go to it, Gayle," Henry smiled, patting her on the head.
Gayle stood up and stretched, reaching her arms high over her head, and letting her head roll languorously.
Bob kissed his way up her leg, pausing to plant a kiss on her pussy before he climbed to his feet and stood in front of her.
"Hey, everybody!" Henry called out from behind them. "Gather round. We are about to witness a Superfuck between our leading lady and our esteemed stage manager, hitherto unknown in these circles. Now all we have to do is get Mabel down here, and we'll have the whole cast screwing."
Gayle felt herself being pushed to the middle of the room. Space was quickly cleared on the carpet. The crowd of familiar faces seemed unlimited. As they moved around her, she kept thinking there were more people at the party than she had thought previously. She was startled to see her mother's face pass near her and Mss her breast, but the face quickly changed into Sadie's. Likewise, George began to look like Gayle's father, until Sadie took him by the hand and led him to Gayle.
She pushed his head down onto Gayle's big tits.
"They're not as big as mine," Sadie said, tousling his hair. "But I know you've wanted to suck them."
"I want a chance at her too," Cindy Love said. She crawled between George's legs and pressed her face against Gayle's twat, licking the red-haired beauty into spasms of ecstasy.
Gayle gripped Cindy's head, coming into her mouth repeatedly. She had to be dragged off the girl, so reluctant was she to end the expert cuntsucking.
Several of the cast members picked her up and bore her out the Green Room, where the party was going on, down the short hallway that led to the stage.
"Don't worry, this time the doors are locked," Bob smiled, patting Gayle's worried face. Gayle relaxed into a smile. Four of the gay boys lifted her high over their heads, spreading her legs. They stood in the wings, waiting.
Gayle thought she heard the sound of applause, but knew that, at least, could not really be happening. To her amazement, however, she heard Henry's voice, loud and clear. He must have turned on the microphones, because his voice resonated in the dark theater.
"Ladies and gentlemen, we, the cast of 'Speakeasy' are proud to bring you a special attraction tonight, our closing night. You will be witnessing the premiere performance of Bob Watson and Gayle Honeycutt, together on stage, getting it on right before your very eyes."
The members of the cast applauded and cheered. The sounds reached Gayle's bewildered ears and she could not decide if it was happening to her or not. Maybe the theater was full of people.
She began to sing one of the songs from the show.
The curtain rose and the stage lights came up, flooding the stage with brilliant light. Still singing, Gayle lifted her head. Bob sat cross-legged in the center of the stage, a wreath of ivy around his head, a small white cloth shrouding his mammoth erection.
He stood up, ceremoniously bowing to Henry, who stood at the side of the stage. He whisked the cloth from his prick and motioned to the boys in the wings who held Gayle aloft. They carried her onto the stage, holding her legs open so she emerged pussy first.
As Bob watched, the members of the cast lined up in front of him. One by one, they walked between Gayle's open legs and planted a deep tongue kiss on her scarlet cunt. By the time Henry was sucking her pussy, Gayle was awash with her own come.
Henry finished and stepped aside. Bob again took the center of the stage. He spread his legs and leaned back, thrusting his groin out in front of him so his cock waved stiffly in the air. He held his position as the boys holding Gayle bore her writhing body ceremoniously over to him and raised her shoulders. They lowered her body onto Bob's cock, still supporting her entire weight. Cindy and Pixie held her feet, keeping her legs spread so the boys could support her.
With neither Bob nor Gayle exerting the least effort, the gay boys began masturbating Bob's cock with Gayle's body. The rest of the cast crouched, sat or stood around them, cheering and urging them on.
Gayle felt herself being pumped up and down Bob's tremendous prick. She heard the cheering and applause in her ears. Her cunt spasmed repeatedly, sucking on Bob's erection like a mouth, tightening and releasing noisily.
Bob moaned, his arms held tightly out, his muscles flexing. His head was thrown back and his eyes rolled. Her burning pussy was squeezing the juice from his balls. He came with a roar, his come pumping into Gayle's pussy and dripping onto the stage.
Gayle was limp in their arms, spent from her exertion. They lowered her onto some cushions and sat Bob down beside her.
"That means you're married," Henry laughed.
"Really?" Bob said. "Not a bad idea. I'd like to keep this sweet cunt in the family. How about it, Gayle?"
"Sure," Gayle said, struggling to sit up. She flopped back onto the cushions. "Were all one big family here. Hell, we're more than that." Bright colors danced before her eyes. Bob's eyes seemed deep beyond words as she looked into them. "Were the greatest show on earth!"
