A river of humanity swirled around the young brown-haired girl as she stepped off the Greyhound bus at the Hollywood station.
All her earlier optimism of three days before had long since drained out of her, and for the last three hundred miles as the big silver bus had loped the miles across the scorching California desert, the eighteen year old Coralee Brodnik had fought tears... sometimes not too successfully. Yet, as she had seen the curious stares of the other bus passengers, she quickly turned her face to the window. She might not have much of anything left, but she did have her stubborn midwest pride.
Now though, even that last shred of self-respect was washing away from her as she found herself swallowed up in the flow of people ebbing away from the bus station.
Hollywood! Oh Gosh! How often she had dreamed of coming here to work, to be noticed by the right people... to be tested on the screen and then later to become famous. Oh, she knew it would take time ... even a couple of years, maybe, before her picture started appearing on the covers of movie magazines regularly. After all, success in the motion picture business doesn't come overnight. It had happened, of course, but she was content to wait and learn for a couple of years.
But never had Coralee suspected she would wind up in this town, penniless, no one to turn to, and already a divorcee - or at least soon to be one - at eighteen years of age.- Her dreams of becoming famous had been one of the reasons she was getting divorced. Oh, it hadn't been easy to admit that she had been all wrong about Harry Brodnik, Junior. Her twenty-two year old husband had once seemed so sympathetic to her goals in life. A high school dropout, he played the guitar and had dreams of his own ... of starting his own band and playing the big dates in Las Vegas and New York and San Francisco. In the beginning, that had been the only thing he could talk about. His only trouble was that he had never taken lessons in music, didn't know how to put music down on paper, didn't know the first thing about arranging, and to be completely honest, he wasn't a very good guitar player, either. All he had was the gift of gab, she reflected bitterly, and a gift for finding hashish or other drugs when the other kids were dry.
Drugs! That was all the twenty-two year old no-talent hippy thought about these days. And when Coralee, who had dropped out of high school in her senior year herself in order to support her unemployed, long-haired husband, found out he was finally graduating into the hard stuff - heroin "- she decided to sever the tenuous binds that had held them together for the seven months of their marriage. The big blow-up had come less than two weeks ago when at three o'clock in the morning she'd awakened to find Harry and his pusher friend in her bedroom. Her own husband was trying to force her to have sexual intercourse with the huge, pimply-faced moron in order to get enough money for a "fix!"
The next afternoon she had filed for divorce, biting back the tears while smiling ironically and in bitter humiliation because in her home state she was still under age and had to have her parents' permission to institute divorce proceedings. Mother and Father had signed the papers with the same grudging, ill-natured reluctance they had shown when asked to sign the original marriage license. Needing sympathy and understanding, yet not wanting to beg for it, the anguished young girl had been forced to listen to her parents' unending tirade for two weeks and the repeated phrase, "See, I told you so," until she fled the house in an act of self-preservation. The last sight she had of her former home was her red-faced angry father, standing stern and forbidding in his bib overalls on the top steps, yelling at her while the curious neighbors peered out of their windows.
"You'll come to no good," he screamed. "You'll become a street walker, a harlot. You're bad seed! Never would listen to us ... thought you were better and knew more than your own parents..." His tirade slowly faded as the curvaceous teenager ran awkwardly, tears streaming down her face, hands over ears, down the street and around the corner.
That had been three days ago. Only the sympathy of Mr. Jenkins, the ten-cent store manager where she used to work, had enabled her to leave town.
"I'm sorry I can't afford to lend you more, Coralee," the graying older man said, handing her two twenty dollar bills. "But here's enough to get you to the west coast where you can maybe get some help from young Harry's father." He looked somewhat doubtful as he said it, and Coralee was so grateful at the offer of escape that she didn't notice his expression.
For the first day and a half aboard, the bus, the excitement of the passing miles had been enough to keep her spirits high. She even made a friend ... a girl her own age who said she really sympathized with her about the drug matter because she'd once gone that route but was cured now. And then as they pulled out of a Texas border bus station, a petrified Coralee discovered her purse was missing... along with her newfound friend. Since then she had nothing to eat and nothing to drink except water. And what made it so horribly difficult too, was the face that most of the restroom stops they had made had pay toilets.
Oh God, she thought now in despair, don't even know which way to turn anymore. She sighed and blinked back the scalding tears that lurked just under the eyelids, needing only one more horrible thing to happen before they started pouring down her face. Her ex-husband's father lived somewhere in Los Angeles near Hollywood, but his address had been in the stolen purse.
"Think, Coralee," she said to herself, squinting her eyes. "How do you find someone in a strange city?"
A moment later, her troubled gaze caught sight of the telephone pay booth and quickly her hopes soared. Putting her battered straw suitcase down, she quickly went to the telephone directory rack. For a second, her despair returned at the immense size of the book - not only that, there were five other books just as large, all of them purportedly of the Los Angeles area.
For once, she thought, luck was with her. On the first try she saw the entry, BRODNIK, H., 4804 Flagstaff - 273-4799. Her spirits began rising rapidly. The elder Brodnik, her husband had told her once, was some kind of automobile dealer, and he was a former Navy man. That was good to know. He was probably an ex-officer, and if he dealt in automobiles, he was undoubtedly wealthy. All car dealers were rich, she knew. The only trouble was, Harry Junior hadn't seen his father for over fifteen years .. . ever since his mother had taken him back to the midwest to live with her parents.
Her hopes soaring, the attractive teenage girl picked up her suitcase and began walking back toward Hollywood Boulevard which the bus had passed moments earlier. She stopped in front of the first woman she met, an older female with a kindly face. "Pardon me, m'am, but how do I get to Flagstaff Street?"
The woman hadn't even bothered to stop; she'd continued walking, not answering.
"M'am ... ?" Coralee turned and watched the woman stride away. Bewildered by the unfriendly reception her question had received, she trudged on down toward the busy intersection in front of her. With the rapid mood change of a typical teenager, the young brunette felt an abrupt return of confidence. There, right in front of her, now only fifty feet away, was the famous Hollywood and Vine... and beneath her feet, inlaid gold stars with the individual names of the former greats of Hollywood. She took a deep breath, and her elation was such that she didn't notice the acrid fumes from the smog and heavy traffic.
"Hollywood... I love you," she said out loud then blushed as she saw a couple of shoppers looking at her in amusement.
Standing on the corner was a blue uniformed policeman. For a second, Coralee felt fear. Oh God, suppose he asks me how old I am or asks for identification. He'll never believe my purse was stolen on the bus. But then, the urgency of her desperate situation made the teenager walk boldly up to the officer.
She swallowed as he looked unsmilingly down at her. "Excuse me, sir. But can you tell me how to get to Flagstaff Avenue?"
The big blond policeman pursed his lips and shook his head. "Don't know it." He reached in his hip pocket. "But I'll look it up for you." As he thumbed through the pages of the little blue city directory, his eyes took in the girl's rumpled clothing, her old straw suitcase, the fear lurking behind her eyes and her youthful appearance. "Been somewhere?" he asked casually, not looking up from the book.
"No... ah ... I..." Oh God! Why don't I just tell him the truth, Coralee asked herself, fighting the irrational fear that most teenagers have of uniformed officers.
The policeman looked up as she stuttered and her face flamed. Why he actually looks as if he doesn't believe me, and I haven't even said anything yet, she thought. Then, sticking out her chin determinedly, Coralee said, "I've just arrived in town from Fort Denton, Oklahoma. I'm going to visit my father-in-law, Harry Brodnik, who lives at forty-eight-oh-four Flagstaff."
"How old are you?"
"Nineteen, going on twenty, next January seventeenth," she lied, but still managed to get some heat in her voice as if asking, "how dare you question me like a criminal?"
The officer's eyes crinkled at the edges and he grinned down at the defiant young girl. "Okay ... okay," he said placatingly and in a friendly manner. "Just wanted to make sure you're not wanted for blowing up the Brooklyn Bridge and holding up a half dozen banks."
Coralee's cheeks dimpled in spite of herself and she found herself laughing with him.
"Okay, that's better," the officer said. "Now ... ah ... Miss ... ah ...."
"Coralee ... Mrs. Coralee Brodnik."
She saw him glance down toward her ring hand. The white untanned outline where her wedding band had been glowed like a neon sign on her sun-bronzed finger. "I'm getting divorced," she said in explanation.
He inclined his head to one side. "Sorry. Anyway, Coralee Brodnik, you take the bus at the bus stop across the street. Go down to Century Boulevard, that's about eight miles - you'll know you're getting close because the street numbers all start getting up in the nineties. When you get to a hundred, that's Century. Turn right, go about... ah ... oh ... three miles and that will be Flagstaff. Turn left on Flagstaff and you should be around the forty-six or seven hundred block." He held out the directory map and traced the route with his finger, repeating the instructions.
"Thank you," she said, picking up her suitcase again while staring him straight in the eye. "Thank you for helping me."
"That's what I'm here for, I guess. So long, kid." He paused, then added, "Take care of yourself." His kindness brought a lump to her throat, and the young girl turned quickly away from him to dart across the street before the light changed.
The policeman watched her ripening young body dodging the other pedestrians in the crosswalk. He felt a wash of sympathy toward her. She looked so goddamned young, so naive, so vulnerable. And she was lying like hell about her age! If she was a day over seventeen, he'd be surprised. But she had been married, or at least had worn a wedding ring at one time. And then, as someone else came up and asked him for directions, he dismissed Coralee Brodnik from his mind. He didn't forget her. Weeks later, if necessary, he would be able to answer questions about her appearance and repeat almost verbatim their conversation. She was just another face in the gallery that was the city... a face a bit younger, a bit more vulnerable, a bit prettier... but in this city it wouldn't take long for all of those things to change in a hurry.
CHAPTER TWO
Harry Brodnik was in a foul mood which is not surprising because the beefy service station owner was usually in a foul mood. Especially since the new freeway had become operative and had taken away almost all of his Flagstaff Avenue gasoline business.
"Fucking grass growing right out in the middle of the street," he grumbled, gazing morosely out through the smog-grimed windows of his small two-pump service station. Once, fifteen months before, there were always cars at one or both of the pumps. Then Harry, like most retired Navy petty officers, had good-naturedly bitched about the "goddamned impatient bastards" who wanted gasoline. But, of course, the California freeway from Inglewood to Santa Monica had changed all that. Who wants to drive down a traffic-clogged street, stopping every two blocks for a red light, never getting out of second gear, when they could go several miles and never get out of first gear on a jam-packed freeway. Now the gasoline business, like life itself, was bypassing forty-seven year old Harry Brodnik and his establishment. Yesterday, he had pumped a total of fifty-one gallons of gasoline ... not enough profit in that to pay for the six-pack of beer and bottle of cheap Safeway grocery store bourbon that he consumed each day.
And today, the only car stopping at his pumps had contained a nervous frightened-looking teenager with pimples who appeared as if he were high on something and in the station for one reason only: to pull a gun on the owner and pick up what little change there might be in the cash register till. The kid had taken one look at the gas station owner's belligerently glaring bloodshot eyes and ham-like arms and had burned a half-a-block of rubber in his haste to escape.
Brodnik had been held up a total of forty-one times during the ten years he had owned the station after getting out of the Navy. Once, he had picked up a Negro youth with a gun and thrown him fifteen feet through the plate glass window, breaking the boy's back. Another time, two white youths from a nearby high school had pulled a knife on him, and five screaming minutes later they had been taken to Inglewood hospital for a total of seventy-one stitches, eighteen broken bones and five missing teeth. Only once had a robber gotten away with anything that might be considered a decent haul... that came after Brodnik had gotten thoroughly drunk and gone to nearby Hollywood Race Track with a former Navy friend of his. The two men had cashed in an Exacta ticket worth $2,100. Exuberant and drinking heavily, they drove back to the station and were preparing to close for the night when two brittle-eyed hoodlums with 45's walked silently through the open door and demanded the money. Both he and his Navy buddy had weighed the odds then, recognizing the futility of protesting, had handed over the cash.
All these things had long since fused together in Harry Brodnik's mind. That was life ... so fuck it. He realized instinctively that in some way the Fates had labeled him a "loser." So fuck that, too, that was his motto. Even a loser, providing he was a smart loser, could still suck at the teat of the good things occasionally. Now he grinned, thinking once again of a real good thing that had started coming his way just within the last couple of days again - the widow Crumpton, an old customer but a new widow.
Always before she had been so aristocratically aloof, a bit arrogant in her big flashy Cadillac sedan and so goddamned proud of her looks and body - flaunting it around town with a label on it that said, "All this is private property; aren't you envious of my husband?" Even then, with all the sure instincts of a former Navy cocksman, Brodnik knew her old man wasn't really taking care of her the way the bitch needed to be taken care of. There was something in her eyes . . . something wild, evasive, quickly extinguished but recognizable. Shit, he'd seen the same look in half the cock-hungry cunts in ports throughout the world.
Thirty-eight years old, Elaine Crumpton had the voluptuous body of a mature woman who knows what it's all about and the firm lushly ripened breasts of a starlet twenty years old. Harry's mouth positively watered every time she drove into the station. And that had been another tip-off right there. She lived about seven miles away and had no business to attend to in his neighborhood. Gradually, after a couple of teasing months, Brodnik began to realize that she was in the area for one thing only: him. And yet, although he wanted to sink his painfully aching cock into her hot little cunt in the worst way, he had held back in making a pitch because of her aloofness. He was sure ... but then again, he wasn't sure enough.
The, she'd disappeared without an explanation about a month ago, leaving Brodnik cursing himself for not at least trying to put the make on her once.
Three days ago, she'd come back again for gas, and that was when Harry had learned she was a new widow. In spite of her loss, however, the same old indefinable hunger was in her jade green eyes.
Yesterday, when she had driven in, Brodnik didn't recognize her at first because she was behind the wheel of a sleek Jaguar XKE convertible. Then he learned she had two other cars: an old Mustang which she kept for sentimental reasons and a "small" Ferrari belonging to her late motion picture art director husband. But the attractive widow obviously hadn't wanted to talk about cars. Twice Harry saw her trying to get up enough nerve to say something; then her hands had wrapped tightly around the steering wheel - so tight in fact, that her knuckles showed white - and she'd driven away without paying for the gas.
He'd thought about it half the night last night, and then made a bet with himself that the haughty Mrs. Crumpton would be around today, and today she'd lay it on the line.
His feeling of sureness began to fade as the afternoon crawled on, and his curses grew louder. Christ! What was keeping the silly bitch? As his disappointment soured into anger, he began drinking more heavily.
By five, when the shadows had begun to lengthen and move across Flagstaff Street in front of his station, Harry Brodnik was feeling mean enough to single-handedly tackle a squad of U.S. Marine drill instructors!
Brodnik thought about the voluptuous widow and felt anger and yet an underlying understanding toward her. He was pretty sure now that she wasn't coming ... would never come again. And what the hell! He couldn't blame her. He looked down at his dirty coveralls and around at the shabby disrepair of the station itself. "What would a good-looking broad like that want with a loser like me?" he thought, with a certain amount of self-pity. And, too, she obviously had been fighting her sexual need for a couple of months. Maybe yesterday afternoon she had finally won the battle. Well, that's what he got for acting like a goddamned daydreaming kid. She represented all the things he'd never get out of life.
He rocked back and forth in the old straw rocking chair and stared down at the floor in his misery. Thus it was that Elaine Crumpton had to honk her horn twice before he heard it.
When he looked up and saw the familiar Cadillac and the perfect oval of a face behind the wheel, he wanted to give out a rebel yell of sheer delight, and there was a lump in his throat the size of a goddamned grapefruit.
The burly station owner almost ran in his eagerness to get out to the pumps.
Elaine Crumpton smiled up at him. "There's something I forgot to give you yesterday," she said, a faint blush on her face and her full sensuous red lips trembling slightly.
Slowly, the beautiful blonde widow held her hand out the window. There was a five dollar bill in her fingers. "I forgot to pay you for the gasoline."
Brodnik's features darkened with anger - for himself again at his juvenile unrealistic hopes and his fantasizing. "Thanks, Mrs. Crumpton," he growled. "Do you want me to stick a hose in and fill 'er up today?" He deliberately made his words suggestive; there could be no doubt about his subliminal meaning, and as he saw her face blushing even more, he realized the sweet seductive bitch knew exactly what he was saying... and that it was still one-up for him in this little game ... He decided today was the day!
CHAPTER THREE
From Hollywood Boulevard to Century Boulevard in a car takes anywhere from fifteen minutes to twenty-five minutes depending upon the traffic. In a bus, the trip takes about thirty-five minutes, sometimes longer, again depending upon the number of other vehicles on the road.
Walking the eight miles takes a seeming eternity, an eternity that stretches to the limits of purgatory when you're carrying a heavy suitcase containing all your worldly belongings.
Coralee had been walking about forty-five minutes and the perspiration was pouring off her ripe young body, staining her thin blouse under the armpits and plastering it to her sweat-streaked back. Even though she frequently shifted the suitcase from one hand to the other, her arms still felt as if they were being slowly pulled ,out of their sockets and her knuckles would soon start scraping the sidewalk ...
Franklyn L. "Frankie" Barnes had just come over the hill from making a call at one of his San Fernando customers, and the wholesale tire distributor was in a hurry to get home to his luxurious bachelor apartment, take a fast shower, change clothes, and get out to Hollywood Park Race Track before the feature race of the afternoon. He was barreling his new Buick down Vine Street when, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the long-haired teenager toting the old-fashioned suitcase. He slowed imperceptibly as he drove past and then sucked in his breath with appreciation as he noticed her ripe young body. Jesus, he groaned to himself, just take a look at those tits, and those nice long legs of hers. What I wouldn't give to have those wrapped around me. He continued to stare in the rear view mirror after he had passed her. Man, that is really choice stuff. With a sense of growing excitement, the tire distributor wondered where she was going. Momentarily Frankie had gotten the impression that she might be lost, and it was all too obvious that she was feeling the heat and beginning to limp.
What the hell, he suddenly decided, it won't hurt to try. She didn't look like the type to start screaming. Quickly then, he made a fast right at the next corner and drove rapidly around the block, thinking as he did so, It'll be just my luck to get back around and find her climbing into some son of a bitch's car. As a matter of fact, he was so positive that was going to be the case that he laughed out loud in relief when he made his final right turn back onto Vine Street and saw her lithesome young figure still trudging wearily half a block down the street in front of him.
Frankie slowed, then came to a stop alongside the girl, and pushed the button rolling the right window down. He saw the girl glance in his direction and tense in fright, and he mentally rejoiced. By God, a hick! A real sweet little innocent bitch, just in from the sticks. Man, this is going to be like shooting fish out of a barrel. Already he could feel his long hard penis stirring in restless anticipation.
"Pardon me, Miss," he called out. "Do you know which was Calrado Avenue is?" Frankie saw the attractive teenager abruptly relax.
Coralee had almost panicked when she saw the big car stop alongside her and the handsome middle-aged man roll down the window. Oh God, she had heard about girls being molested right on the streets of the big cities. However, as his question penetrated her numbed brain, the young girl felt a rush of renewed confidence through her mind. After all, he was a stranger too. Just a stranger who was as badly lost as she had been before the policeman had helped her.
"I'm afraid I don't know the street," she answered, leaning down to the window so he could hear her.
Frankie saw the teenager's blouse gap open slightly as she leaned in the window, and he quickly averted his eyes from her lushly ripened breasts, not wanting to alarm her. "Well, it's supposed to be somewhere around the ninety one hundred block," he said, with phony puzzlement in his voice. He knew exactly where Calrado Street was; he ought to, for his luxurious bachelor apartment had been there for the last five years.
Unexpectedly, the naive young girl aided his own plans. "Oh, well, then," she said brightly and in a genuine effort to be helpful, "You still have a long ways to go. This is only the eight hundred block." And how aware she was of the exact block she was in. Coralee had started counting the blocks when she left Hollywood Boulevard. It didn't occur to her for several minutes to check the street signs. The numbers, instead of going up, were going down. And then, as she came to First Street, some twenty blocks later, she realized - with a dull feeling of frustration - that she was starting out from zero and still had to build up to a hundred.
Something of her misery and her thoughts showed on her beautiful young face, for Frankie instinctively knew he was in beyond his greatest hopes. "Well thanks, Miss," he said with false sincerity. He put the car in gear and rolled up the window. He caught just the flash of something akin to mute pleading on her face as he let out the clutch and began moving away from her pathetic figure. He drove only about fifteen feet, then abruptly slammed on the brakes and backed up. "Hey," he called out apologetically. "I'm sorry. It was unforgivable of me not to offer to help. I notice you've got that big old suitcase. Can I give you a lift? I'm going as far as... as ... ahh ... Calrado, but you're welcome to ride if you'd like."
Coralee stood there momentarily, the painful indecision written all over her troubled young features. Oh God, how she'd love to get in this air-conditioned car and ride in style and comfort down toward Century Boulevard ... yet, it wasn't healthy to get into an automobile with a stranger. But he looked so kind, so understanding... a lot like Mr. Batesworth at High School. Suddenly she took a deep breath and answered him.
"That's very kind of you," she smiled. "I am a little tired from lugging this around."
"Get in, then," Frankie said, fighting to keep the triumph out of his voice as he reached across to open the door on the passenger's side.
Coralee lifted her suitcase to the seat and watched as the older man deftly swung it over into the back well. Unaccountably she found herself trembling with apprehension. Here she was, doing the one thing she had vowed not to do, but under the circumstances, she couldn't be blamed. It was much too hot to be walking the blistering streets. No harm would come to her from this kind stranger. Gratefully then, she got into the car and sank back feeling the cool air-conditioning wash over her sweat-soaked body.
"Better?" Frankie asked, glancing out of the corner of his eyes at her young sun-tanned thighs. Christ, the little bitch was built far better than he had thought at first glance. Her legs were long and curved perfectly up under her little mini-skirt. And those tits, so proudly uplifted, looked like they belonged on a mature woman in her mid-twenties.
Coralee closed her eyes and sighed deeply. "Oh, this is wonderful," she said. "Not even the bus was cooled ... I don't think I've stopped sweating since I left Denton's Ten-Cent Store where I used to work."
The tire salesman pretended to be concentrating on driving. Actually, however, he was mainly trying to keep his errant penis from hardening even further. The kid looked as if she were innocent as hell, but all she'd have to do is look over, see that telltale bulge, and the show would be all over... she'd be out of the car like a streak of lightning.
"Where'd you say you came from?" he mumbled, already planning the lie that would catch her interest.
"Fort Denton, Oklahoma."
"Hey, whatta ya know about that," he said in mock amazement. "Do you know Maryjo Carlyle? She's from that area. Heard her talking about Fort Denton two or three times, I think." The tire distributor had used this same routine half a dozen times. Good old make-believe Maryjo; she was from Fort Laramie, Chicago, El Paso, Houston .. ..wherever the broad said she was from that was where Maryjo was supposed to be from. It always worked!
Coralee frowned in thought, then answered, "I... I don't think I know any Carlyle's... ?"
"Oh well, yeh. I keep forgetting. That's her professional name." ' Coralee turned to face him, an expression of interest in her eyes. "Professional name?" she asked breathlessly.
"Yeh. An actress. Going to be a good one and well-known too after Sam Spigel releases his next picture. She's in it. Not starring, but she's sure taking all the attention from Gloria Monday."
"You know Gloria Monday?"
Frankie nodded. "Sure. Doesn't everybody ... at least in my business!" Frankie sensed she was dying to ask him about his "business", but she was obviously too well mannered. He waited a second, then added casually, "I had a feeling Mary jo was going to be good. That's why I took her on as a client. Usually don't, you know, but something about that kid made me sure right from the start she was going to come across on the screen."
That did it, he thought smugly. The cute teenaged brunette rose to the bait like a hungry trout.
"Screen? She's an actress?"
Frankie pretended as if he were concentrating on the traffic and too busy to talk, so he merely nodded his head a couple of times. He waited knowing that the naive little bitch was putting it all together. In a moment, her voice, vibrant with barely suppressed excitement, rang out, "Are you a ... an agent?"
"Yeh. Frank Malloy. You heard of me?"
"No. But I'm new in town."
Frankie laughed. "Yeh, I can see that."
Coralee looked down at her clothes, glanced up at the mirror on the sun-shade above the seat, then turned toward him. "I guess it shows, huh?"
"Naw... I didn't mean to hurt your feelings ... ah ... ah ... what's your name."
"Coralee Brodnik."
"Well, that name would have to go right off. Let's see now," he wrinkled up his forehead in thought, then grinned, "Yeh ... Leigh Brody, maybe Coral Lee ... no, I think Leigh Brody's better. Looks better on the marquee. Classier too! Coral Lee sounds like a stripper."
Coralee sat there, watching the streets flash by but not seeing anything of the new town. Her heart had begun pounding in a wild, barely controllable, excitement. Oh God! She had been in Holly wood, less than an hour, but already she had met a famous agent. And he was suggesting a stage name for her. Leigh Brody! Leigh Brody! She mentally said it a dozen times. It sounded so right, so like her! The more the naive teenager thought about it, the more she was sure that she actually had heard or read in the movie magazines about this kind-looking, middle-aged man before. Twice she opened her mouth to speak, but a combination of timidity and fright made her close it again without saying the one thing she wanted most to say.
And then, she was unable to contain it any longer and the words came tumbling out. "Mr. Malloy, I'm interested in acting. I want to be an actress, and I. .. " Her sentence was cut off by his gruff laugh, and her hopes were immediately dashed by his comment, "Take my advice, kid, and get into some other line of work."
The girl seemed to collapse, her self-confidence, so painstakingly built up over the last few minutes, was shattered by his unkind remark.
Frankie was the consummate actor as he pretended to think twice about his words. He took his eyes off the road for a second and was pleased to see the suspicion of tears in the young girl's eyes. "Look ... I didn't mean to knock you. You see, it's a rough game for a nice girl. You know what I mean? Hard work! A bunch of crude bastards ... er, ah ... pardon me. A bunch of dirty old men." He shook his head in dismay. "Of course, I try to protect my clients from them but, you know, sometimes some producer will try to pinch a bottom, tell racy stories ... Well, I wouldn't let either of my two daughters get involved in movie making." That last statement was the most audacious lie of all. Frankie Barnes, alias Frank Malloy, had never been married and wasn't about to be as long as the ready supply of cunt held out.
Coralee could only stare at him in dumb misery. Oh God, she thought, how could I make him understand that I'm willing to work ... do almost anything, as long as it's decent, in order to become an actress.
"Still aren't convinced are you?" Frankie asked, swinging the steering wheel to the left to pass a bus. "Yes. I know all that," Coralee said. "But it doesn't make any difference. I'm willing to go to drama school... work hard."
The pseudo-agent's voice softened a bit. "Well, there's a start in the right direction. You certainly seem to have the ambition." He looked thoughtful for a second and then said, "You know . .. ?"
He saw the naive young girl lean forward eagerly in the seat, before he deliberately said, "No ... it wouldn't work. I'm leaving for New York tomorrow morning, then on to Paris for some contracts I'm having signed for Gloria Monday."
"What... what wouldn't work, Mister Malloy?" Coralee asked, her voice trembling.
"Naw ... forget it, kid." The conniving middle-aged man grinned to himself: This silly little bitch was hooked solidly now. Ten minutes from now he'd have her tight little panties down around her knees and pounding his long hard cock to her, listening to her squeal for more.
Coralee reached out and touched his arm. "Please ... tell me, please."
"Welll... I suppose I could have a screen test made on you to see if you photograph as well as you look." He saw the almost unbearable excitement shaking her young body, and decided to tantalize her a bit more. "Yeh! Ill talk to someone when I get back from Paris."
"How long? How long?"
"Can't say for sure. Thought I might pop on down to Rome and see Sophia Loren and a couple of other old friends. Only a month or two ... maybe three."
Coralee fell back against the seat, unable to hide her disappointment. A month! My God ... a month was an eternity! She turned back to him. "It can't be done before?"
"Oh, no, honey. I mean, like, ah, screen tests take a lot of time to set up, and I'm leaving tomorrow morning."
"Oh." It was a sound of vast disappointment coming through a choked throat.
Frankie decided now was the time to start hauling in on the line. "It's not like it used to be, when I made my own screen tests with my video tape camera." He pretended to look thoughtful. "But maybe I could ... ah ..." He stopped talking again.
"Yes? Yes? What could you do?"
He shrugged. "I guess I could run a test reel on you and send it over to the big brass at Universal Pictures. Trouble is, though, it would have to be done this afternoon. I've still got some packing to do before I leave tomorrow morning."
Frankie took his eyes off the road and then grinned at the excitedly quivering young girl. "You got enthusiasm, kid. I like that. Yeh .. . I'll help you, even though I really don't have time. We'll swing past my place. I guess I can afford to spend five minutes with a young hopeful. Besides, I'd never forgive myself if you turned out to be another Marilyn Monroe or Gloria Monday and some other agent discovered you."
The naive teenager was so amazed at her good fortune that she didn't notice the street sign reading Calrado Road when the pseudo-agent made a sharp right turn and then drove into an underground garage of a luxurious apartment building. Almost before she knew what was happening, they were in an elevator going up to the third level.
Frankie's apartment was a typical bachelor's pad overlooking the swimming pool. He ushered the excited young girl into the front room and left her there exclaiming over the pool, the paintings (which had come with the apartment), and the huge, soft white leather couch in front of the television set.
She was sitting there, hands clasped excitedly in front of her, admiring everything, when Frankie came back with a cheap Instamatic camera. "My video tape machine's out of order," he lied. "It's too bad. The only thing I've got in the house is this, although it's taken some good pictures before." He paused, looked thoughtful, then walked to the white telephone at the end of the leather bar. "Let me call Universal and see if they'll look at some snapshots. If they won't, we'd better forget the whole thing until I come back from Europe."
A second later he was pretending to dial. When he saw he had the innocent young girl's rapt attention, he started talking into the dead receiver. "Let me talk to the Talent Director; this is Frank Malloy." He refused to look at the nervous teenager, but he knew she was hanging onto every word. "Hello, this is Frank Malloy. Is Harmon Winters there? Yeh, I'll wait." He put his hand over the receiver and turned to Coralee, "Harmon Winters is a very big man at Universal. If he likes you, you get pushed right on up the ladder." Then, turning back to the receiver, he growled, "Hiya, Harmon, baby. How's tricks? Ummmmm ... Yeh. You don't say? No ... no, I'd love to attend the premiere, but I can't. Going to New York tomorrow morning. Yeh. Well, the reason I'm calling is that I've been watching a young actress called Leigh Brody, and I think she's really got something. I'd like to send you a roll of film on her. Can you have your photo department develop it? You will! That's great!" He turned and winked conspiratorially at the apprehensive eighteen year old divorcee who clasped her hands together in front of her in excitement. "Yeh, Harmon. I really think she's got talent. Would I bother you if I didn't think so? Have I ever been wrong before? That's a baby. Yeh ... okay. See you in about a month or so." , Hanging up the receiver, the pseudo-agent turned to the girl and said, "Well... that was easy." He glanced at his watch. It was still an hour before the feature race post time at Hollywood Park ... plenty of time to ream out this innocent little bitch's pussy and still make the track in time to get a bet down.
"I've only got a few minutes, so let's make this fast. Take off your clothes."
"What?" Coralee staggered backwards, her eyes wide with alarm.
'Take off your clothes," Frankie insisted. "Get naked."
"But... but... Mr. Malloy. I couldn't do that... I mean ... I mean . .. well... I...."
"Don't be bashful, Coralee. It's all part of my job as a talent agent. I can't send a photograph of you dressed like that to the head of the Talent Department of a studio. They have to see what you really look like."
"But... but I don't know you."
Frankie shrugged. "What's to know? I see dozens of naked actresses every day. It's all part of my job. Now be a good kid and stand up. Go on.
Trembling in indecision and uncertainty, the teenaged girl got up off the couch and stood before him, her face aflame with embarrassment. "I really don't know, Mr. Malloy."
Frankie's good-naturedness abruptly disappeared. "Now listen to me, Coralee. You're the one who wants to be a big movie actress. I represent some pretty big actors and actresses in Hollywood, and I shouldn't be wasting my valuable time with an unknown. How the hell do I know what's the real you? Maybe you've got a big ugly scar on your belly, or if you're wearing falsies. Now just cut out all this modesty crap and do what I tell you... if you want me to represent you."
Coralee felt a combination of shame and embarrassment flooding her mind, and once again the bewildered brunette thought she was about to start crying.
Frankie read everything on her face just as if it were a printed message. He sat down quickly at a bar stool and said reassuringly, "Look, I think I know how you feel. Okay? Now I'll turn my back so you won't be embarrassed. So just undress. It'll all be over before you know it, and you can even keep your eyes closed while I'm making sure you aren't scarred or wearing falsies. That okay?"
Coralee, who had begun trembling like a frightened filly, could feel the color rising to her cheeks and forehead at the very thought of what he was suggesting. "Oh God... I don't know ... I really don't think I should do it."
Frankie, however, didn't intend to miss out on this at any cost. By God, even if he missed the feature race he'd have her skirt off and her tight little panties down around her ankles if it was the last thing he did. If he hadn't been so wildly aroused by her ripe young body, he would have laughed at his own insinuation that she might be wearing falsies. There could be no doubt in anyone's mind that those firmly upthrust mounds were all hers, genuine mouth-watering flesh!
"Now I'm turning my back; I won't look. Just go ahead and do what I told you ... undress. Tell me when you're ready," he said, spinning around on the stool to face the mirror and bottles on the shelf behind the bar.
The young girl stood there, staring at the back of the older man's head. Her fingers toyed nervously with her blouse as she argued with herself. This may be the only chance I ever get to be in the movies. Oh God! I'm a mess and my hair's a mess... but think of what he said. .. maybe I'm another Marilyn Monroe. I bet Marilyn didn't argue with her agent when he told her to get undressed for that calendar she made.
Quickly, then, before she could change her mind, the eighteen year old divorcee unfastened the little pearl-like buttons one by one until the thin blouse was open all the way down the front. Embarrassed, she could feel the chill of the apartment's air-conditioning unit on her nakedly quaking belly, and in spite of her chagrin, she could sense her nipples hardening under the taut nylon of her brassiere. When the older man didn't turn around, she used both hands to reach around and unfasten the single catch of her little mini-skirt. A second later her trembling fingers tugged the zipper down. Wordlessly, unable to believe she was actually undressing in a strange man's apartment, the teenager let the skirt fall to her feet, then picked it up on one foot and placed it on the white leather sofa beside her.
"You almost finished?" Frankie growled.
Coralee was suddenly stricken with the urge to grab all of her clothes and run out the door. But the thought of her name in lights and on the covers of all those movie magazines kept her in the room. She swallowed and she could have sworn that the sound of her spittle sliding down her dry throat could be heard across the room.
"You can turn around now, Mr. Malloy," she said, not recognizing her own voice.
Frankie spun his bar stool around and gasped in sincere appreciation as his lust-smoked eyes took in the luscious curves of the trembling, blushing young brunette before him. His eyes drank in the spectacle slowly, traveling slowly from head to toe - starting with the sun-tanned flow of her long graceful neck where it curved down to the proudly uplifted mounds of her breasts under the white nylon brassiere, a brassiere so sheer that her nipples could be seen like brown half-dollars under the material. His lewdly hungering gaze dwelt for long seconds on her tautly rounded little belly before dropping to the white nylon bikini panties which cut across her lower abdomen and emphasized her flaring hips and their curvaceous perfection. And beneath the panties was the barest shadowy suggestion of the dark, sparsely curling pubic hair covering her vaginal mound. Her thighs, he decided, were just right for clasping around a man's middle, and her long tapering legs and calves were smooth and unblemished and would feel fantastic locked and scraping across his naked ass-cheeks as he pistoned his long thick cock in and out of her tight little cunt.
"Jesus . .. God .. . ," he breathed, unable to control his admiration. He'd seen thousands of naked females before, but none of them that he could remember had been even half as enticing as this bewildered, innocent little bitch who had undressed before him simply because she thought he was a famous agent who could help her break into the movies. His nostrils flared and he said again, "Jesus ... Baby, you're something else."
Coralee turned her face, unable to look at his strange expression any longer. Earlier she had been embarrassed, but he was beginning to scare her now as she saw and correctly interpreted his lewd look. "Please . .. Mr. Malloy. Just take the photographs for Mr. Winters at Universal Pictures. Please?"
Frankie didn't take his eyes off the embarrassed teen-ager for a second. "Sure ... sure! And I tell you, Harmon Winters is going to agree that we've got a real winner this time." He sighed and got up from the bar, picking up the camera as he did. "Okay, let's get the pictures. Take off your bra and panties."
"What?"
Frankie held out his hands, palms up in mute supplication. "Your panties and bra. Ill turn around again ..." he said, trying to sound as if he were getting disgusted with her timidity.
"It isn't necessary that you turn around," Coralee blurted out, frightened that he was becoming unhappy with her. "I'll take them off. I guess I'm going to have to get used to people seeing me in films ... like this." Her lush young breasts stood out even further as she reached behind her and deftly unfastened the two snaps to her brassiere. She was blinking back tears of embarrassment when the garment fell loose down over her bare arms. Her proudly uplifted breasts quivered in the open air and she could feel her tautly erected nipples harden even more as she saw Mr. Malloy's eyes burning into her naked flesh. Her breasts stood up firmly, without the slightest sag, her berry-like nipples covered with goose bumps.
Reluctantly, the pseudo-agent's eyes left the twin mounds of nakedly straining flesh and moved down past the shadowed indentation of her navel...
Coralee saw his glance and took a deep sigh. Oh God, she thought, I do hope I'm not making a mistake. The kind, middle-aged theatrical agent no longer looked like the understanding Mr. Batesworth, her high school teacher. On the contrary, he looked like a dirty old man who was just dying to paw her.
"Very nice," Frankie said. "And now .. . your panties, please." He picked up the camera as if inspecting it, and he hoped she didn't notice his suddenly trembling hands. A part of his excited mind was screaming: Hurry up, you stupid little bitch. I can't stand this waiting any longer.
If the naive teen-aged divorcee hadn't been so confused with her own misery and embarrassment, she would have noticed the persistently growing, telltale bulge beneath the older man's trousers.
"Your panties ... please," he said, pretending to focus it. "Hurry."
Coralee complied, even though her troubled young mind was reeling with uncertainty and her brain shouting warnings to her. Her thumbs caught the tight elastic waistband and peeled it down over the gentle swell of her voluptuously flaring hips. Knowing that her face was beet red, she pulled the garment down over her sleek curving thighs, exposing her dark little "vee" of softly curling, silky pussy hair. When the panties fell down around her ankles, she stood there in indecision for a moment or two before pulling them off and placing them on top of her skirt on the couch.
Frankie could feel his painfully throbbing cock leaping like some crazed animal within the confines of his trousers as he stared at the delectable female body in front of him. The girl's naked flesh was sun-bronzed all over except where her panties and brassiere had shut off the rays, and the contrast between tan and untanned flesh only increased her sensuousness.
When the naked teen-ager bent over to put her panties on the couch, it was all he could do to keep from yelling and running across the room to bury his face between her delectable milk-white ass-cheeks.
She turned, face still aflame, and he saw her darkly inviting vaginal mound again with its velvety pussy hair. He tried to imagine what that warm succulent flesh up between her legs was going to be like . . . tight, oh so tight, and hot, and moist. . . and her gracefully tapering legs would lock so tightly around his back as he drove his lust-thickened hardness up the hilt in her wetly clasping pussy . .. slamming in until she begged for mercy .. . and begged for more. However, he knew this proud young girl - even though she was doing exactly what he was ordering at the moment - had to be handled correctly or she would run. She was really something special, and he'd have to plan his moves just as carefully as he did when dealing with one of those schlock tire people over on Sunset Boulevard or he'd wind up being the one that got screwed.
And best of all, Frankie gloated, this time for a change I've actually got film in the goddamned camera. Photos of this succulent little bitch and her pink, almost virginal pussy will sell like a two-for-one dollar bill sale.
"Yes, Coralee, I think Universal Pictures is going to be very glad you and I met," he said, forcing his voice to sound serious, even though his breathing had become so erratic that he could barely speak without gasping. "Why don't you turn around for me - real slow like - so I can see what kind of lighting is best for the pictures."
The nervous teen-aged girl obeyed, blushing furiously as she turned her smoothly rounded ass-cheeks to the middle-aged man's greedy, probing gaze. Her firm ripened buttocks were tightly clenched and hollowed as they curved under at the tops of her trembling young thighs. The flesh looked so fastastically soft and resilient, and Frankie knew instinctively that when he finally touched those warm mounds of naked flesh they would quiver first in fright and then in a wild unrestrained eagerness as she met him thrust for thrust when he fucked into her.
"Yes ... you're going to be just right," he said, watching her quiver now in defenseless embarrassment. "The photographs alone should sell you to the big boss at Universal." Quickly then, because this was a crucial moment, Frankie added, "Now just lie down on the couch there."
Coralee paused only for a second, then deciding not to argue, sat down on the edge of the white leather sofa, her knees pressed tightly together and her arms demurely covering her naked young breasts. Oh God! The leather felt so cool, so sensual against her buttocks and the back of her thighs! She squirmed in dismay as the would-be agent began fiddling around with the camera and the flash bulb unit.
Frankie looked up and saw how stiffly she was posed. "Now come on, Coralee. You look like someone about to go before the firing squad. We'd better have a nicer, more sexy pose than that. Like they do in Playboy. Now stretch out on the couch and lift your arm up over your head."
Quivering in embarrassment, the teen-aged girl followed his instructions and sprawled across the sofa, resting her head against the opposite arm so that her long brown hair hung down almost to the floor.
"Right on, baby," Harry said. "Now turn a little to the side. Yeh ... like that."
Coralee obediently turned toward the camera, her nerve ends tingling as she saw the camera lens aimed straight at her lewdly unclothed form.
"Now lift your right knee slightly; you know, so that the curve of your calf shows. Yes ... oh yeh..." The older man found his breath coming even more rapidly as he saw the softly curling strands of her pussy hair suddenly appear. Oh Jesus ... never before had he seen such a succulent little cunt. He licked his lips nervously as he aimed the camera.
Frankie took one photograph, moved slightly downward so that more of her naked vaginal area was exposed, and shot another, aiming directly at the blushing pink lips of her wetly gleaming cunt.
"That's good ... real good," he mumbled. "Now lift the knee a bit higher and push it in toward the back of the couch. And try to lift your pelvis a little bit... like the couch was too hot to lay on."
Frankie's hands began shaking almost uncontrollably when he saw the red-faced young girl's ass-cheeks hollow as she lifted her hips from the soft leather of the couch. The teen-ager had no idea of just how lewd the pose looked; it seemed as if she were wantonly offering her gaping little pussy up to the viewer in an obscene invitation to be fucked.
The would-be agent began clicking the shutter rapidly, knowing instinctively that he was getting some really prime photos. By the time he was finished with the roll of film, Coralee had one leg hooked over the back of the couch and the other foot pressed on the floor, with her naked vaginal furrow from clitoris to anus completely exposed.
Kneeling right up between her lewdly outspread thighs was Frankie.
"Please, Mr. Malloy. Don't you have enough pictures?" the crimson-faced divorcee pleaded. Oh God, she had never felt so naked in all her life! All of the warning bells in her brain were clanging, and a shrill little voice of sure, instinctive knowledge, was yelling at her to get out of this man's apartment and do it NOW. Ever since she had removed her clothes for the theatrical agent, she had been afraid to look at him. Now, wanting him to understand exactly how much she wanted to leave, she gazed directly into his face for the first time. She gasped as she saw the lewd expectant, and obviously cruel look in his eyes, and expression that telegraphed his obscene intent.
"Mr. Malloy ... you ... you're scaring me. Don't look at me that way."
Frankie was unable to control his snort of derision. "Scaring you? Me? Frankie Malloy scaring you? Ah come on now, baby . . . you can trust me."
Coralee abruptly dug her calves into the sofa and tried to scoot back, but Frankie merely moved forward, remaining as he was kneeling between her obscenely splayed legs. She tried to swing her naked body off the sofa, but the older man correctly anticipated her attempt at escape and grabbed her trim little waist, his big powerful hands almost encircling her from front to back.
"No .. . please don't touch me! Don't touch me!" Then she screamed loudly and began thrashing as the older man leaned forward and planted a wetly heated kiss on her navel. "Let me go . .. let me go."
"Go ahead, baby. Yell all you want. This place is sound proofed," Frankie sneered. "In a couple of minutes you'll be yelling with happiness when you see the little gift I've got for you." He took one hand away from her waist, but tightened his grip with the other one to hold her steady.
Coralee's already shocked eyes caught sight of his fingers working with his belt. "No ... no, you can't. Let me go," she sobbed, kicking futilely in an effort to dislodge her naked body from this cruelly smirking man. Suddenly in desperation, she grabbed the back of the sofa and attempted to pull herself up onto the high arm, but Frankie easily grabbed her ankles and yanked her naked body back against him.
"Now you ain't going no place, honey. Not until you see what I'm going to give you for being such a nice girl and posing for those pictures." His belt was undone now and his zipper whirred like the vicious sound of a rattlesnake as he pulled it down.
"Here. Look at this, little girl. Just what you need." He reached inside his shorts and pulled out his thick, rigidly pulsating penis. It stuck out like a menacing lance from the open part of his trousers. "You like that, honey? Man, he sure likes you."
Coralee screamed with terror as the middle-aged man's lewdly exposed organ was offered up to her. "No ... no go away. Leave me alone. Aaaaggggghhhh!" Her scream echoed through the room.
Frankie merely laughed. "Go ahead, baby. Scream if it makes you feel any better, but no one can hear you. I had this place especially sound proofed because I like to play loud music. There ain't nobody going to hear you scream, and even if they did, they'd think it was on television." Abruptly, then, he grabbed both of her ankles and yanked toward him, pulling her naked young body farther down onto the sofa so that her knees were on both sides of his hips. "Now behave yourself, Coralee. Or I might have to do something real mean to you ... something you wouldn't like."
The anguished teen-aged divorcee quaked with unbridled fright and revulsion as Frankie Malloy quickly pulled his pants and undershorts down his hairy thighs to his knees. Her disbelieving eyes were locked on the long thick protuberance that pulsated out from his groin. At the lust-swollen tip of his cock, she could see one pearl-like drop of his excited pre-ejaculate gleaming on the huge purplish glans. Beneath the threatening shaft of flesh hung the large leathery sac containing his sperm-laden testicles; they hung like two tennis balls beneath the monstrous organ.
Frankie grinned as he saw the terrified teen-ager sizing him up, making a frightened appraisal of his equipment, and it was all he could do to keep from laughing as he thought about what she must be thinking at the moment. Then, his grin faded as he once again took in her youthful, lushly ripened nakedness. She was so completely fresh, so... so luscious. His eyes wandered hungrily over her quivering upthrust breasts and her fear tautened nipples. His glance dropped down across her flat little abdomen and finally came to rest at her hair-covered cuntal furrow up between her involuntarily spread thighs.
Frankie's voice surprised even him when he croaked, "Honey .. . baby ... did anyone ever tell you that you got real eating pussy?"
"Oh God! Please don't talk tome. I'm a good girl. Please . . . please . . . pleee . . . aaaaagghhhh ... NO . . . DONT DO THAT!" Coralee's voice rose to a shrill scream of terror as the theatrical agent's face lowered and he began raining moist searing kisses all over her nakedly cringing belly.
Frankie laughed low in his throat as he felt the anguished teen-aged brunette's pathetic efforts to escape. His laughter stopped when he tasted the slight salinity of the dried perspiration on her belly. His mouth was watering uncontrollably as he slowly licked his way downward into her velvety pussy hair and caught the first enticing waft of her warmly perfumed cunt.
"No ... oh God, please don't...," Coralee sobbed in mortification and fear as she felt the older man use his shoulders and arms to force her legs even wider. Her defenseless body's strength to resist now was weakening, and Coralee pleaded inarticulately for him to leave her alone. Her stunned young mind couldn't' believe this was actually happening to her... and especially not happening when she had been in this strange town less than two hours. Oh God ... how could she have been so stupid! Now, here she was, naked, helpless, and alone in a strange man's apartment... a middle-aged man who was about to do perverted things to her ... like putting his mouth on her vaginal flesh. Why that was something she had never permitted even her husband to do!
Oh God... why did I ever come to this awful city? Please, please let this be a terrible dream ... a nightmare... that I'll awaken from. Please!
Gripping the naked young girl's fearfully trembling thighs with both hands, Frankie spread them even wider ... until her tendons were stretched taut like velvet-covered cables beneath the sleek warm flesh. He sucked in his breath as every delectable morsel of her secret flesh slowly came into view. His lewdly appreciative eyes drank in the taut muscular ring of her tiny cringing anus and the moist puffy pink softness of her hair-rimmed vaginal slit. Even as he watched, he saw her cuntal lips twitch, and quiver ever so slightly in a mouth-watering display of femininity.
Coralee closed her eyes tightly and flailed her head from side to side, muttering all the while incoherent pleas to be left alone.
But her beseechments went unheeded as, skillfully, Frankie spread the soft pink flanges of her defenselessly naked pussy, opening wide the wetly heated lips and brushing aside the curling pubic hairs that lined each side of her fleshy crevice. When the narrow slit was spread wide enough for the older man to see inside the gaping red entrance to her cunt, he grunted once in satisfaction.
"Oh no . . . pleeeeeeeasssssseeeee! NO . .. AAAAGGGHHHH!"
Refusing to heed her piteous cries, Frankie lowered his mouth to her feverishly quivering vagina. Quickly, then, he made one experimental lick from the gleaming little red bud of her clitoris to her wildly puckering anus.
"Aaaaiiiieeeeee. You . . . mustn't." Her naked young body stiffened and arched upward as if she had touched a live-wire as his tongue made its first lewd contact with the sensitive, nerve-filled lips of her vulnerably exposed cunt.
"No ... no. Oh God! Please, Mr. Malloy ... don't... do ... that!" The naive teenage girl begged hoarsely as the experienced older man's long wet tongue probed her tingling vaginal flesh, bringing ripples of forbidden pleasure that coursed in a warm wave of excitement throughout her nakedly writhing body. Her earlier humiliation returned tenfold as she realized this horrible man, whom she had known only a few minutes, was wringing such a salacious reaction from her rebellious body.
And the worst part of all was the fact that now she knew she was powerless to stop it. Her body was slowly taking command from her brain, and she was forced to admit that his lewdly licking tongue was bringing her an excitement and a pleasure she had never felt before.
Opening her wetly quivering pussy even wider with his thumbs, Frankie burrowed his tongue and lips up into the succulently flowing furrow, sliding his tongue like a hummingbird's beak deep into the soft warm cavern, seeking nerve endings that he knew existed inside that succulent opening.
Each new lascivious probe of his searing tongue brought a new tremor of unwanted arousal to Coralee's nakedly twisting body. Her breasts were hot and tingling almost unbearably, and her smooth rounded buttocks seemingly were beginning to take on a life and motion of their own as the futile squirming downward into the sofa cushion had subtly changed into a lewd upward motion - as if her hotly hungering cunt was deliberately seeking out that tantalizing tongue.
In spite of the waves of undeniable pleasure that were washing over her shamelessly aroused body, Coralee still attempted to stop him. "Oh please. This is so terrible! Don't.. . Stop!" Please ... stop," pled the young girl, her face shining with her tears of embarrassment. "I don't like that..."
Frankie merely snorted. He knew how to use his tongue, had known it after being instructed in the finer arts of tongue-fucking by a thirty-seven year old black-haired widow when he was still only fourteen. Now, thirty years and six hundred cunts later, he knew just about all there was to know about eating pussy, and he put all his knowledge now to work in order to make this cute teenage divorcee humiliate herself even further by begging him to fuck her. His eyes narrowed in eager anticipation as he visualized his thick aching cock slowly sliding up to the hilt in this ripe young girl's tight little pussy. Christ, he'd fill her belly to the overflowing with his hot scalding sperm ... stretching her pussy until she was forced to admit that she had been screwed by a real man.
Knowledgeably using his nose against her sensitive c lit oral bud, Frankie fastened his teeth ever so gently on one side of her fleshy vaginal furrow. The wild musky taste of her sweet little pussy washed up into his mouth. Slowly he nibbled upward until his teeth clamped down on her erected clitoris. He knew he had hit pay dirt when her naked ass-cheeks suddenly leapt up off the sofa, quivering violently in an ill-concealed hunger and eliciting a loud moan of pleasure from the young girl's lust-constricted throat.
An almost electric-like jolt of lewd pleasure shot through Coralee's nerve endings as she felt his teeth grazing against her ultra-sensitive clitoris. Oh God, she thought, I mustn't feel this way. I can't let myself give in to this horrible man. But even as her brain was making this last ditch effort to preserve her self-respect, the humiliated young brunette was rubbing her own hands over her tingling breasts and fondling her erect little nipples which were as hard as pencil erasers. She could feel everything now with a new and deeper appreciation of the lewd sensations: her naked ass-cheeks against the cool soft leather ... her fingers against her quivering breasts ... the stubble of the older man's beard scraping against her sensitive inner thighs.
Oh... oh. What's he doing to me? Why is he making me feel this way? What kind of an animal does he want me to become? Oh .. . oh! I'm no better than this filthy beast because. . . because, God help me, I love it! I love his tongue sticking up inside me like that... I LOVE IT!
Frankie gloated as he felt the hungry upward grinding movement of her hot little pussy reaching for his mouth. The sweet bitch was almost ready now. Another minute or two and she'd be begging him to fuck her. It always happened. Teasingly, the lusting talent agent rolled the tiny bud of her throbbing clitoris between his teeth, feeling the little nub harden and swell even more as he nibbled at it and licked it roughly with his tongue.
Oh God! Please, God! Don't let this awful thing happen to me. Her love-starved body however paid no heed to her prayers, for her pelvis began an obscene up and down pumping motion against the face of the man kneeling between her widespread thighs.
Chuckling to himself as his victim's lush naked buttocks began to grind involuntarily in a desperate rhythm, Frankie continued to nibble with expertise on her stiffened clitoral bud.
"Ooohhh ... no ... don't!" Coralee moaned, her mouth half-open, her eyes still tightly shut. The heated tears had stopped flowing down her reddened cheeks, for her head now was thrown wantonly back against the sofa arm with strands of her long brown hair trailing over her naked breasts and onto the rug. "Please ... stop. I... I can't stand anymore ..."
Instinctively, the pseudo-agent realized that this was the first time the young girl had ever experienced oral sex. Well then, by God, we'll make it something for the little bitch to remember.
Pleased with himself, the older man stepped up the pace of his hungry ravishment of the teenage divorcee's loins, his tongue switching back and forth between her wetly quivering clitoris and her fluted cuntal lips which trembled with each hot heartbeat of her pussy. He had a tight grip on the soft resilient flesh of her naked ass-cheeks, holding her in place, even though he knew positively that she no longer would make an attempt to escape. Her aroused young body shivered spasmodically now with each tantalizing swipe of his tongue against her sensitive secret flesh. Her heated cuntal juices had begun to flow copiously and they tasted sweet beyond measure to him.
Coralee's eagerly upthrust cunt ground more and more violently against his tongue's lewd delicious thrusts. Though she fought her growing arousal with every fiber of her being, the cute teenager knew she was only seconds away from complete surrender to this obscene man.
And then as the swirling heat of her own desires built to a white hot pitch, she began shuddering uncontrollably. She heard a shrill voice crying out, and it took long moments for her to realize that the voice was her own.
"Oh ... oh ... that feels ... so good. So good! Keep licking! Lick my pussy .. . lick me ... oh yes ... like that."
That really was all Frankie had been waiting for. He knew he had the hot little bitch just exactly where he wanted her; now he could do whatever he wished to do to her - and she would be incapable of stopping him.
With one last gentle bite of her erect little clitoris, he took his watering mouth away from her hair-lined cuntal furrow and raised his head to look at his helpless young captive once again. It was just as he expected; her entire naked body was quivering in uncontrollable hunger, and her hips continued their blind up and down movement, seeking the return of his mouth to her sensitive vaginal flesh.
A low gasp of pleading came from her throat. "No . . . You . . . you can't stop now. I... I... Oh God ... please don't stop."
His face smeared with a lewd grin and her savory cuntal juices, Frankie crawled up between her widespread thighs until his rigidly pulsating penis was poised at the hair-lined opening to her frantically twisting cunt. He inched forward a bit more and the lust-swollen head of his cock nudged against the wet fevered softness of her vaginal lips.
That first tentative contact between his hotly throbbing hardness and her own unprotected cuntal opening caused the aroused young divorcee's mind to suddenly snap back to reality, and she realized with a gasp of dismay how close she had come to voluntarily giving herself to this filthy beast. "No ... not that! I won't let . . ..No . . . please ... You .. . you're hurting meeee ..."
Deaf to her piteous cries, Frankie continued to press forward, slowly sliding his long thick penis up into the moist clasping warmth of her tight little pussy. As she screamed and struggled futilely beneath him, his lust-contorted face became cruel and vicious. Oh Jesus! She had a hot, tight little pussy ... the tightest he had been in for years. Abruptly, he could stand the erotic sensations no longer, and he rammed forward with his hips, driving his eagerly pulsing cock deep up into her cuntal sheath, thrusting in until it was buried to the hilt. Her softly resisting walls rippled aside in waves of ecstasy to make way for his invading hardness as his thick pole of impatient male flesh filled her tender young passage completely.
"Owwww . . . Aaagghh," the obscenely skewered teenage brunette moaned, her vagina on fire as her tormentor's giant organ drove relentlessly deeper and deeper up into her painfully stretched cunt.
"No ... no morree . . . Please! Pleeeaaassee!"
Her cries of protest only added more fuel to the lewdly smirking older man's desire, and he thought he would lose all control even before he began to piston his thick rigid cock in and out of the liquid heat of the young girl's tightly constricted passage.
"Honey baby, you got the sweetest and tightest little pussy I ever tasted or fucked. It's almost virginal. So goddamned good ... oh yeh! Fuck back like that .. . yeh .. . like that. Ohhh, baby!"
With both hands he reached down to cup her wildly grinding ass-cheeks, lifting her pelvis up for even better penetration to her hotly clasping cunt. He heard her gasp in lewd delight as his thickened shaft of male flesh drove in to scrape against the sensitive knob of her cervix. With that one gasp as he rammed into the innocent depths of her fitfully quivering womb, the Older man could tell he was in virgin territory. It made him feel superior to know that all the young bucks and studs who had been screwing around with her in the past were all just kids in her evaluation now that she was being fucked by an adult male. He knew just the right spot in the tight depths of her hot young cunt to drive her out of her mind. She was undeniably his now, and he aimed to give the teenager a fuck she would never forget as long as she lived.
"Come on, baby. Fuck that little pussy of yours up at me. Suck my prick right up into your belly. Feel it, baby? Feel it? Don't it feel good?"
His lewd exhortations made the forbidden excitement burning in Coralee's loins grow even more intense, and the beautiful young girl found herself grinding her cock-impaled vagina up harder and harder onto his thick skewering penis, undulating her ass-cheeks with , an eagerness and hidden hunger that lifted them both up off the soft leather sofa. She rocked her body from side to side as his conquering shaft of male hardness burrowed deeper and deeper up into her suddenly insatiable vagina. Each electrifying thrust of his pulsing organ up into her belly caused new surges of wicked delight to course through her nakedly writhing body. Her proud young breasts were crushed nearly flat against the weight of his powerful hairy chest as her smoothly rounded ass-cheeks swiveled around and around as if on ball-bearings, grinding upward to meet his every thrust with a wanton hunger of her own.
The older man's big thick penis felt like an axe handle shoved up inside the cute teenager's painfully stretched vaginal passage, but the pain was relegated to second place behind the overwhelming waves of animal passion that swept over her in a surging tide of lust.
Jesus Christ! The hot little bitch is really turning on. She's starting to fuck like she's had fifty years of experience. Frankie grinned at the lewd thought then went back to the business of giving the young girl the screwing of her life. He tightened his grip on her nakedly churning ass-cheeks and lifted her cuntal crevice up even higher in an effort to slam his stiffened penis deeper, ever deeper into the forbidden sanctuary of her tight, lust-moistened pussy. His thick rigid cock slipped in and out of her hungrily clasping vaginal sheath easily now because it was coated profusely with her slick lubricating juices, flowing so copiously that little streams of her liquid passion trickled out of her clutching cuntal lips to stream down over her nakedly pumping buttocks before dripping to the sofa.
Frankie rocked his hips back, pulling his long hard organ from her greedy little pussy until only the lust-swollen head remained embedded just inside her twitching vaginal lips. Like a hungrily sucking mouth, her cuntal muscles held the swollen knob of his pulsing cock tightly inside the warm sheath of her passage, only reluctantly allowing the glistening shaft of male hardness to slide from their devouring grip. There could be no doubt about it now - the cute teenage divorcee was all his to do what he wanted with her, and best of all, she was only seconds away from what was obviously going to be a mind-blowing orgasm.
"Harder what?" he asked, pretending ignorance, wanting her to mouth the lewd request.
"Fuck me harder. Fuck me harder ... don't stop. Fuck me... fuck meeee ... AAAA GGGHHH! YES! LIKE THAT!"
Frankie rammed forward with all his might and felt her sweat-streaked young body jolted by the force of his penetration. He abruptly realized that his own end was near, and so with every ounce of strength left in his body, he fucked violently into her greedy little cunt, gritting his teeth and clenching his ass muscles in a desperate effort to hold back the seething tide that swirled in his cum-filled balls.
He felt the wildly moaning teenager's hotly clasping vaginal sheath suddenly heating up even more, and then there came the first unmistakable twitchings deep within her womb as her cuntal muscles flexed and contracted around his long invading shaft.
"AAAAIIIEEE! I'M CUUMMMIINNNGGG! CCUUMMIINNGGG! DON"T STOP! I . . . I . . . AAAGGH! CCUMMIINNGG!" Coralee had begun to chant a liturgy of rapture that was as old as time itself when her lush young body exploded beneath the perspiring older man. Her long lithe legs flew out on both sides of them then locked around his pumping buttocks as she sought to take every millimeter of the wonderfully hardened cock up into her orgasming pussy.
Slamming his hips against her wildly grinding cunt, Frankie buried his burgeoning cock right up the hilt in the wet juicy furrow of her greedily clasping pussy. With a loud gasping cry of relief he felt his hot surging sperm course the wildly throbbing length of his swollen shaft to explode in a great foaming torrent far up into her belly, filling her young gluttonously sucking cuntal hole with his white-hot cum until it overflowed in a silver river down over her thrashing buttocks.
Coralee felt the muscles spasm from her toes right up to her head as the powerful surges of her climax ran its devastating course. Her ravished vaginal passage hungrily gulped up every precious drop of the ejaculating, life-giving fluid as it pumped ceaselessly into her belly with spurt after spurt of liquid ecstasy.
Finally, completely emptied of his cum, Frankie took his hands away from the teenager's softly resilient buttocks and dropped the young girl back onto the sofa. She lay there, eyes closed, breathing like a spent fish up on the beach, as the older man grinned down in lewd triumph at her.
With a backward motion of his hips, Frankie's rapidly deflating cock slipped from her dilated, cum-filled cunt with a lewd sucking noise, leaving behind a trail of sticky white semen that dangled for a moment from the end of his rubbery cock-head, hanging like a silver nylon cord between his muscular hair-covered thighs before dripping onto her belly and the sofa.
He pulled up his undershorts and wiped his flaccid penis clean with them, blotting up the lurid mixture of his own sperm and the depraved young girl's cuntal juices from his balls. Then he stood upright, pulled up his pants and glanced at his watch. Beautiful, he thought, just beautiful. A total of thirty-seven minutes since the naive little bitch got into my car, and I still have time to make the feature race.
Frankie looked down at the naked teenager. He read the shame and guilt in her eyes, and from the way she had suddenly begun trembling again, he realized she was only now feeling the full impact of what had happened to her. He saw the tears well up in her eyes, and he turned away to go to the bathroom, rather than face her accusing stare.
"Better get dressed," he said. "I've got an appointment in fifteen minutes."
Coralee sobbed.
"Come on," he said, not so kindly now. "But... but the screen test? The pictures."
"Don't worry about them, baby. We'll call you."
Coralee blindly got up off the couch as the agent walked briskly out of the room. With a numb despair that was almost bottomless, she put on her panties and brassiere and then her mini-skirt and blouse.
She was dressed, trembling from head to foot and weeping softly when Frankie came back into the room. He didn't give her a chance to say anything, merely walked to the door and held it open for her.
When she hesitated, he snapped. "Come on. I gotta go."
"But..."
"Jesus Christ," he snarled. "I said we'd call you. Now let's get out of here. I got an important appointment."
Coralee felt she was incapable of movement. There was a dull ache in her throat which almost, but not quite, matched the ache up between her legs. Unconsciously, she heard the theatrical agent repeat, "What's wrong with you? I said, come on!" A second later, he strode across the room and roughly grabbed her arm.
"Look. I gotta go. Where you heading?" he asked.
"What... what?"
"Where are you going?"
"I... I don't know," she sniffed, letting the scalding tears of remorse run unimpeded down her face.
"Well, Jesus Christ. You can't stay here."
"All right," Coralee said woodenly. Then she remembered the earlier address of Harry Brodnik. "My... my father-in-law lives on Flagstaff."
"Yeh? Well, I know the street. Come on, I'll drop you off at the corner." he glanced impatiently at his watch. There was still plenty of time to make the race, but he had to get this little bitch's ass in gear. Flagstaff was one of the cross streets between his apartment and the race track.
Quickly then, before she could protest further, he pulled the young girl out of the apartment and into the elevator.
She wept quietly all the way to Flagstaff Street then was unceremoniously nudged out of the car. Frankie reached into the back seat and pulled her battered straw suitcase out of the well and handed it to her. He saw her eyes suddenly riveted on the half-dozen or so large tire catalogues used in his wholesale tire business. As comprehension slowly dawned on the naive young girl's face, Frankie grinned obscenely and slammed the door.
"Don't call us, sweetie. We'll call you." And with that he sped off toward the race track.
And the ravished teenager - eyes blinded with scalding tears that came from the sure knowledge that she had just been made a fool of and had made a fool of herself - knew that she would never see or hear from the would-be agent again.
With knees that felt like rubber and legs that felt like lead, she started walking up Flagstaff Street in the gathering twilight.
CHAPTER FOUR
Harry Brodnik hummed as he filled the gas tank of Elaine Crumpton's Cadillac, and his joy increased each time he caught the curvaceous widow staring speculatively at him in her rear view mirror.
Yeh, he thought, today's the day that sweet bitch asks me to fuck her. . . and about time, too! Christ, I was about to go out of my mind wondering if she had suddenly decided to disappear forever. But now? Today's the day!
The burly gasoline station owner was so lost in his gloating thoughts that he didn't hear the "whoosh" as the gas reached the top of the tank, and a second later half a quart of gasoline sloshed out of the tank all over his leg.
"Goddamn," he muttered, angry at himself for not paying more attention to his job. He glanced up and saw Elaine Crumpton laughing at him, just as if she had known all along what he was thinking about.
Roughly he screwed the gas cap back on the tank, then slammed down the license lid ... and, making as much noise as possible, he returned the hose to the gas pump.
A moment later he stood beside her lowered car window, staring down at the expanse of full firm thigh so enticingly revealed below her skirt.
"Anything else, Miz Crumpton?" he asked, staring at her boldly.
For just a split second she looked taken aback. She didn't answer his question, but then it really wasn't necessary to tell him exactly what she wanted. Her eyes, her seductive body motions, her tongue tracing its slow wet path around her sensually parted red lips had all made the request.
Harry, being Harry Brodnik, and a little on the playfully sadistic side, had pretended he didn't know what she was implying.
Finally, blushing to the roots of her strawberry blonde hair, Elaine was forced to say, with downcast eyes, "Look ... would you like to take me to dinner?"
Harry scratched his barrel-like chest through the dirty tee-shirt he wore under his grease-stained overalls and said, with feigned reluctance but with some sincerity, "Sure I would, Miz Crumpton. But you know, you and me... well, we ain't really in the same league. I can't afford to take you fancy places. I'm just a poor man, I guess."
The new widow answered quickly, with an almost indecent eagerness, "Then you can come to my place. Ill have the chef..."
"Naw, I'd better not. It's my bowling night," he lied, staring down through the open window of her car, his eyes taking in the breathtaking fullness of her breasts under the expensive blue silk blouse, and the sleek sensuousness of her nylon-encased thighs. Abruptly, he felt his restlessly stirring penis growing harder, and knew he couldn't play this "hard-to-get" routine much longer. Jesus Christ, he thought, this is going to be one nice piece of ass. All I have to do is play her right, then reel her in like a gasping fish.
Grinning inwardly, he saw the suddenly trembling woman take a deep breath for courage, then blurt out, "Cancel your bowling date." Then she looked up, her eyes filled with a smoldering hunger that could have been seen three blocks away. "I need companionship."
Brodnik laughed then, throwing back his head and snorting, the tendons on each side of his neck taut as flesh-covered cables. "Companionship?" he taunted, knowing that if she had gone this far, the love-starved widow would take whatever he dished out now. "Companionship? That's a good one! Now don't shit me, honey. What you need is a long hard cock fucking up inside that hot little pussy of yours."
As sure as he was of her sexual need, Brodnik was surprised at Elaine Crumpton's immediate flare of anger. "How dare you speak to me that way?" she spat out in fury. "You filthy ... unimaginable beast, you. What makes you think I'd let something like you put one hand on me?"
Harry stared at her face, blotched with a combination of anger and embarrassment. He gazed silently at her lips, trembling and wet and full, at the faintest suspicion of tears at the corners of her eyes. Then, wordlessly, he reached his beefy hand down, cupped her left breast, and squeezed harshly.
"Ooohhhh, you're hurting me," she squealed. "Stop it. Stop it... stop it. Oh goddamn you." She beat her fists futilely against his muscular arm.
Harry laughed deep in his throat as he saw what happened; it was exactly what he thought would occur if his hunch was right. The widow, although pushing herself back against the seat to get away from his hand, had opened her legs a bit. It was an instinctive reaction, one that he had seen protesting women do a hundred times when their lying throats were saying "no" and their bodies were saying "yes".
He squeezed the soft resilient mound of her breasts even harder and heard her gasp in pain. Jesus! This sweet little bitch was really something. In her half-hearted struggle to escape his hand, her skirt had slid up even further now and he could see the warm alabaster flesh of her naked upper thigh above the nylon hosiery she wore. Two rose-pink snaps held the tops of the sheer hosiery taut against her thighs, and the two lavender lace garters coming down seductively from her hips certainly didn't appear to his lust-crazed eyes to be standard equipment for a newly bereaved widow.
The burly gasoline station owner decided to make his move. With his free hand, he wrenched open the door to the Cadillac and demanded, "Move over."
"No . . . I... I... don't want..." she sobbed.
"Get over, goddamnit," he growled, removing his hand from her breast and gruffly shoving her shoulders over toward the passenger side of the car.
Trembling now in a combination of need and fright at her own audacity, Elaine Crumpton slid across the car seat away from the steering wheel, and then stared silently as the big beefy man got in beside her and closed the door.
Brodnik didn't waste time with preliminaries. He merely gave one fast tug at her blouse and pulled it free of her skirt's waistband. "Oh ... no. You can't," the strawberry blonde woman said without conviction, then added ... "Someone will see us."
"No they won't," he growled, reaching behind her for the brassiere snap up under her blouse. She was still protesting when the snap came undone and the thin nylon garment loosened. Harry's big hand immediately pulled it away from her proudly upthrust globes and began caressing her soft warm flesh, wringing one feverish moan after another from deep within her passion-tightened throat.
"You like that, don't you, baby?" he gloated. When Elaine didn't answer, he took her erect little nipple between thumb and forefinger and squeezed harshly.
"Oohhhh ... no. Don't hurt me."
"Well, come on then. Let me hear it. You love it, and you know it... love it so much I bet that sweet little pussy of yours is already as slippery as a banana peel and dying to be fucked. Ain't I right?"
"No ... no," the young blonde widow was trembling uncontrollably as she attempted to slide further over on the seat, away from the maddening caresses of the gruff service station owner.
"Sure it is... I can tell when a pussy's beginning to run a little. It's nice and tingling and warm and damp down there ... now come on, you can tell me ... come on ...."
"Oh God! Please don't talk that way to me." She had begun quivering like a wild animal being touched for the first time by human hands, and her full sensuous lips had wetly parted again revealing her little pink tongue and teeth.
Jesus! Brodnik thought. He hadn't seen such a luscious little piece in years. And to think she was actually begging for his cock. Oh, she hadn't put it in those words yet, but she would. He knew she would .. . and she knew it, too.
Brutally, and with a hunger that surprised even him, Harry lowered his face and covered her quivering red lips with his own. She moaned low in her throat as his tongue forced its way inside her half-opened mouth. She tasted of chocolate and lipstick, and her perfume - exotic and obviously expensive - wafted up in his nostrils like the smell of the finest whore in the whole goddamned world.
Grinning inwardly, the beefy gas station owner felt her hungrily trembling body push itself timidly against his.
Now's the time, he gloated, and used his free hand to gently tug down the zipper to his station overalls. When he had pulled it down as far as it would go and his boxer shorts were bulging up out of the open material, he reached over and forced her legs further apart. He glanced down at his hand, hair-covered and with grease-dirtied fingernails, as it slowly and tantalizingly slid up the inside of her full, firm thighs. She jumped involuntarily when he began caressing the creamy white skin above the tops of her nylons, and mumbled a slight protest which he quickly silenced by jamming his tongue as far down her throat as it would go.
A moment later, his searching hand came in contact with the passion-drenched nylon crotchband of her panties. Christ, he thought, I was right! She's wetter than hell and ready to go! Slowly extending his middle finger, Brodnik gradually wormed it beneath the tight elastic legband and felt her softly curling pussy hair entangle itself around his probing finger tip. Alongside him, Elaine Crumpton had begun to shudder, quivering uncontrollably as his finger made first searing contact with her sensitive, love-starved vaginal lips.
Brodnik could feel the liquid heat of her, could feel her wetly matted pussy hairs coated with the slippery cuntal juices which were flowing in preparation of love-making, could smell the musky perfume of her feminine flesh. Slowly, deliciously, he began to massage her already erected clitoris. Within seconds she was humping her wetly clasping pussy lips up against his hand.
The hot little bitch was on fire, all right, he thought. As ready to be fucked as any cunt I've ever been close to. His own almost overpowering need was creating a painful throbbing in his groin. Christ, he had to stick it in her soon or he'd be doubled over with the cramps of sexual hunger.
As great as his own need was, though, he recognized hers as even more so. Well, if she was as hot to trot as he thought she was, it was time she did a little work too. Quickly, as she groaned in disappointment, he withdrew his finger from inside her rumpled nylon panties and grabbed her hand. Harry felt the strawberry blonde stiffen momentarily in resistance, but her protests were futile as he forced her hand through the open zipper of his overalls. She trembled as though she had suddenly touched a hot wire when he placed her hand directly upon the pulsating bulge of his rigidly thickened cock. He felt her squeeze tentatively, then grinned as her fingers moved of their own accord through the gap in his boxer shorts and closed lovingly around the long hard length of his penis.
"Ahhhhhh," she mumbled up into his mouth. "So ... hot... and hard ..."
Brodnik's chest rumbled in laughter. Sure it was hot and hard and long, shit, that was the way it was supposed to be, wasn't it? There had been that little seventeen year old Arkansas girl who had said his cock felt like "a big throbbing rolling pin ..." Some women were afraid of his penis the first time they saw its awesome thickness, but that didn't stop any of them from taking every inch of him and then begging for more.
Slowly, as if uncertain of what to do, Elaine Crumpton's hand began a gentle stroking motion up and down on his lust-thickened, eagerly throbbing shaft. Her fingers felt cool but maddening as she started stroking and squeezing ... squeezing as though she were attempting to coax milk from a cow's udder.
Gruffly then, Brodnik pulled his mouth away from hers and unbuttoned the top three buttons to her blue silk blouse. A second later, the unblemished whiteness of her ripely uplifted breasts were exposed to his hungering eyes. His mouth watered in anticipation as he dropped his ovalled lips to her berry-like nipple and sucked it up into his mouth, where he used his tongue to tease it into an even greater hardness.
"Ooohhhhhh," she moaned. "Ooohhhhhh. You ... you ... we shouldn't! What if someone comes?"
"The only people going to cum around here is you and me. Just wait until I get big daddy up inside your hot little cunt. You'll cum like you've never cum before."
Elaine Crumpton shuddered in undisguised pleasure at the utter lewdness and the obscene promise of his words. Her voice was almost inarticulate as she pulled her fingers away from his hotly pulsating hardness and forced his hungering mouth from her wetly glistening breast. "No... no! I won't. We can't. Someone will see us."
"Goddamn. I can't wait. I gotta fuck you now," he growled, making an attempt to roll over and force himself between her wide-splayed knees.
"No!" And this time her voice was almost a scream.
Dimly, Harry recognized the finality of her protest. The bitch actually meant it! He was just about to flare into anger when he remembered the toilet. Christ, the place stunk like hell from drunks and "don't give a shits" who had missed the bowl while pissing, but it did offer a bit of privacy. And, perversely, there was something exciting about slipping the big banana to an arrogant rich bitch in a dimly lighted, not too clean men's toilet. The more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea.
"Come on then," he demanded, and opened the door on her side. "Get out." He didn't bother to zip up his overalls, merely stuck his rigidly erected penis back inside his boxer shorts where it bulged like a fist and an arm.
"Wha ... where?" the shamelessly aroused and trembling blonde widow asked.
"In the toilet," he said. "We'll be all alone there, and I can lock the door if you like."
Elaine Crumpton glanced toward the weather-beaten door with the faded sign marked Rest Room. Beside it was a rusty 50-gallon steel drum with the top cut out, used as a trash disposal barrel. It was filled to the overflowing with a two week old accumulation of paper towels, empty oil cans, and trash that had blown across the parking lot. As great as her sexual hunger was, she still looked uncertain. .
"Get out," Brodnik snarled. "Well lock the fucking door."
The quivering, rapidly breathing blonde woman opened her mouth to say something when Harry almost savagely grabbed her hand again and forced it down to his pulsating hardness. "Well? Do you want it or not? Speak up, goddamnit. Do you want to be fucked or not?"
Elaine closed her eyes, shuddered once, then quickly and without further protest, slid out of the car. She walked rapidly toward the toilet door, her hands clutching the front of her blouse together. Brodnik followed her, admiring the sensual sway of her rounded buttocks beneath the expensive hip-hugging brown silk skirt. He glanced back just once to make sure no one was in the area of his cash box, then mentally shrugged. Fuck it! What was a lousy ten bucks when compared to a five hundred dollar hot little piece of tail like this. Shit, they could steal the goddamned pumps and the fucking underground storage tanks for all he cared right now.
As soon as Harry got inside the toilet, he closed and locked the door. The dim light through the dirty transom took a couple of seconds of getting used to. He grinned as he saw her nostrils flare in protest with the foul odors of the place.
Wordlessly, he stripped off his overalls, then dropped his boxer shorts to stand before her clad only in his oil-stained tee shirt and shoes. He saw her eyes widen as, for the first time, she saw the real size of his long thick cock. Grinning lewdly, he reached down, wrapped his fingers around its pulsating hardness, and stroked it back and forth.
"Like it?" he asked.
Elaine stared wordlessly at it. Her trembling had become more pronounced now and her breathing was irregular to the point of being erratic. Christ, he thought, she looks like a bird hypnotized by a goddamned snake. Brodnik saw her swallow and her blonde hair shake almost imperceptibly as if she were asking herself what she was doing in this odorous toilet with a crude individual like himself.
"Take off your clothes, baby," he said, and when she didn't immediately obey, he growled, 'Take off your fucking clothes or I'll rip them off. DO IT NOW!"
"No," Elaine moaned. "I've changed my mind."
'Too late now, sister." Brodnik took two quick steps toward her and, with a motion almost too fast for the eyes to follow, gripped the waist band of her skirt and yanked viciously outward. There was a loud ripping sound and her gasp of dismay as several pearl buttons fell like broken white teeth to the grimy toilet floor. The voluptuous blonde widow stood before him now dressed only in her unbuttoned blue silk blouse, her lavender and lace garter belt, her nylons, and her high-heeled shoes.
"No... no more. Don't tear anything else. Ill take them off." She said it quickly, not out of fright, he thought, but out of a desire not to have her clothes ruined. Brodnik snorted. What the hell difference did it make to him why she undressed. .. just as long as she got naked enough for him to ram his long hard cock up into that hot little pussy of hers."
Her face flaming in embarrassment, Elaine Crumpton slowly removed her blouse and hunched her shoulders forward so that her unfastened brassiere could slide down her arms. Mutely she looked around for a clean place to put her clothing, then folded her blouse and brassiere together and put them on top of his overalls that were wadded in a heap on the floor.
Harry could feel his excitement building to a fever pitch now as he saw her long slender fingers with the crimson painted nails reach down and begin, almost shyly, unfastening her garters which held up her stockings. When she started to remove the garter belt itself, he growled, "Leave it on . .. just take your panties off."
The service station owner was unable to suppress a low groan of admiration as he saw the blonde widow hook her thumbs inside the elastic waist band of her panties and slowly peel them down over her flaring hips and smoothly rounded ass-cheeks. A second later she was pulling them down her thighs, past her knees and ankles. She used first one foot, then the other, to step out of them. Her eyes never left his as she held them out at arms length and dropped them on top of her blouse and brassiere.
For a moment, the curvaceous blonde appeared awkward, as if she didn't know quite how to stand naked in front of him. Perhaps part of her indecision was caused by Harry's unconcealed gaze of admiration as his smouldering eyes devoured the golden-fleeced "vee" of her pubic triangle up between her legs, framed by the lacy garter belt. He noted with' satisfaction that her nipples still protruded in a firm erection and that her left breast still gleamed moistly from where his mouth had nibbled moments before out in the car.
Then, reluctantly, because it was against his policy to let a woman know just how attractive she really was - he gave a low groan of satisfaction.
A second later, the love-starved widow was in his arms, kissing him hungrily, running her hands over his hairy forearms, grinding her taut little belly against the pulsating hardness of his virilely stiffened cock.
As her tongue swam into his mouth and she began to moan impatiently, he felt her hand drop down between their bodies. An electric shock went through his groin as he felt her fingers close once again around the thick throbbing girth of his penis. Eagerly now Elaine began stroking him to greater hardness, tantalizing him and herself by rubbing the huge mushroomed cock-head against her navel, around the lower part of her belly, and by deliberately scraping it against the lace of her garter belt. Harry could feel her silken pussy hairs scraping across his sensitive glans, could feel her trembling with an unrestrained greediness as she sought to stand on tip-toe and take his long hard thickness up inside her belly.
Jesus! He'd never known a broad to get so hot so fast. And for that matter, he hadn't gotten so hard so fast in a long time himself. Quickly then, because the painful throbbing in his groin was impossible to ignore any longer, he cupped his big beefy hands beneath her ripely straining ass-cheeks and lifted her almost naked body up until her hair-lined vaginal lips were scraping his navel and his thick, blue-veined shaft of male flesh was pointing straight up toward the gaping wet opening of her cunt.
He pulled his mouth away from hers and watched her lewd expression of delight, desire and pain as he slowly - ever so slowly -lowered her onto his lust-thickened penis.
"Oohhhhhhh ... aaahhhhhhh ... yesssssss," she groaned wildly as the full throbbing immensity of his cock slowly stretched her wetly heated pussy lips wider and wider. Then, as she cried out in real pain, he felt the bloated head of his wildly pulsing penis pop inside her tightly clasping cunt.
"A A AGGGHHHHHHHH . . . big! You're .. . too big," Elaine wailed, wriggling her buttocks from side to side as she sought to widen her own painfully stretched cuntal opening. But even as she writhed in what seemed to be an attempt to escape the brutal impalement, the skewered young widow slowly lifted her knees - using his hands on her quivering ass-cheeks to support all her weight -and wrapped her nylon-encased thighs around his thick waist.
"Atta girl," Brodnik said as he felt her legs sensuously pressing against his naked buttocks. Her lewd moans of desire and the soft liquid heat of her tight vaginal passage were far too pleasurable to stand for long. He instinctively knew that he had to start fucking the loudly groaning widow soon or he would orgasm even before he got the entire length of his long thick penis all the way inside her hotly quivering pussy.
His eyes glazed with lust, the burly service station owner spread his feet outward on the restroom floor for better support while standing upright, then told the almost deliriously moaning blonde, "Hold tight, baby. We're gonna fuck now."
He felt her legs tighten convulsively around his waist and her arms grasped him more securely around the neck. A second later he pushed downward on her naked hips and felt his rigid thickness sliding further up inside her moistly heated cuntal passage.
"A A A A H H H H H HHHHH . . . UUUHhhhhhhhh," she quivered and moaned in lewd delight, her eyes rolling up into her head until only the whites showed as his pulsating hardness skewered her cock-hungry cunt in a combination of pain and pleasure.
"Like that?" Harry grunted, already knowing the answer. "Bet no one ever stuck something like big daddy there up inside your hot little pussy before." He glanced down at her and he grinned as he saw the way her perfect ass-cheeks were framed by her stretched garter belt. Still, though, in spite of the wild ecstatic feeling of her wetly clasping cunt, he wanted to hear this once arrogant bitch acknowledge his mastery over her. When she didn't respond to his questions, but merely sought to fuck her tight vaginal sheath up and down on his long impaling rod of flesh, Brodnik lifted her hips slightly upward, causing his penis to partially withdraw, and demanded, "I asked you a question. Like it?"
"Oh... God ... yes. You know I love it... I love it," the gasp was wrung from deep within her chest.
"Yeh," Harry chuckled. "I thought you would." Then the smile of triumph abruptly left his face as he felt her feverishly pulsing vaginal lips milking at his shaft of flesh. It was all too much. "Gonna fuck you now," he growled.
"Yes . . . oh, yes. Fuck me now . . . hard ... hard ... aaaggghhhhh, yes. Like that! Againnnnnnnn..." The last was a shrill scream of ecstasy as Brodnik brutally rammed her hips downward onto his thick impaling shaft. His huge pole of male flesh rammed up into her belly mercilessly, driving deep, far deeper than anyone had ever penetrated before. She wailed and shuddered like a bitch in heat as his blunted cock-head slammed into her spongy cervix and went on even further.
"Aaaaiiiieeeee," the nakedly writhing blonde widow squealed again in pain and rapture as she used her thigh muscles to rise and fall on his thickened cock.
Beads of sweat stood out on the burly station owner's face and forehead, and his knees were trembling from the unexpected strain as he began pistoning his wetly glistening penis in and out of Elaine Crumpton's sensuously tight, hair-lined little pussy. She mewled and sobbed, and her cat-like sounds of passion reverberated from wall to wall in the grimy toilet of Brodnik's service station. With a fury born of hunger, she pumped her cock-impaled vagina up and down on his thick rigid instrument, using her calves and legs to ride him as though she were bouncing up and down in a saddle.
"Oh, baby ... your little cunt's just as tight as I knew it was going to be. Like it? Like it?" he panted, feeling her naked breasts brushing against his chest - even through the material of his tee shirt.
"Yes ... yes ... Don't talk ... just fuck me. I'm close already. Fuck me ... fuck me ... fuck meeeeeee!"
Suddenly the naked blonde widow began groaning with an inarticulate passion and her fingernails, like talons, raked his back painfully, causing Brodnik to yell out. In retaliation he dug his own fingernails deep into the soft resilient flesh of her naked ass-cheeks and was rewarded with a pained cry which sounded to him like being more pleasure than protest. As he felt her wetly heated pussy increase its fucking tempo up and down on his skewering cock, the service station owner knew the hot little bitch hadn't been kidding. Christ! She was already close to cumming, and his prick hadn't been inside of her for more than thirty or forty seconds.
Then, abruptly, he felt her interior walls heating up even more, and her deeper vaginal muscles closed in and rippled like insistent little fingers against the sensitive head of his cock. She gasped once, shuddered, and then wailed ...
Her long lithe legs closed like a vise around his waist and she began convulsing in his arms. Her naked ass-cheeks tautened, then began rippling under the skin like the flank muscles of a horse getting rid of flies.
"Oh . . . oh . . . Aaaaggggghhhhh . . . God! Cumming..." Elaine Crumpton repeated, her mouth open, her eyes tightly clenched, as she shuddered in a torrid orgasmic fury.
The violence of her release unexpectedly triggered the burly gas station owner's own climax, and he felt his wildly jerking cock suddenly burgeon deep up inside her quivering belly.
Elaine gasped again as she felt his lust-thickened shaft abruptly swelling to even greater size inside her cunt, and the first hot jet of his pent-up sperm caused her fading orgasm to be renewed. "I'm cumming again," she moaned, and felt her ecstatically throbbing vagina begin its reverberations of sexual release again. Without knowing exactly what she was doing, she pressed her hot hungering mouth against his and jammed her tongue down his throat as her belly exploded in wave after wave of uncontrollable rapture.
Wonderingly, while passionately kissing her back, Brodnik felt his ejaculation going on ... and on ... and on! God! He hadn't cum like that in years ... maybe never before. This hot little bitch had a way of turning him on like no other broad had ever been able to do ... at least not in recent years. So lost was he in his own pleasure, that he didn't realize his legs had begun to tremble violently. It wasn't until he felt himself swaying slightly that he reluctantly put the naked widow down. When she was fully standing on her own feet once more, she, too, was trembling with exhaustion.
"Jesus!" Brodnik gasped. "That was something else."
Elaine Crumpton stood there, staring up at him with an unfathomable look on her face. Then, her eyes wide - as if not really believing that only five or six minutes had passed since she had driven into the station - she nodded her head in agreement. "Yes ... it was good." She sighed and swallowed. "Very good!"
"You needed that, eh?" Brodnik asked, already knowing the answer - asking out of curiosity, not of gloating - not trying to taunt or embarrass her.
For a second Elaine looked as if she were going to make an angry retort, then merely nodded, and said in a low voice, "Yes... I needed that."
The naked young widow bent over to pick up her brassiere from the pile of clothes on the restroom floor. A slow turgid rivulet of his cum and her liquid passion shone on the inside of her thighs. Brodnik saw her perfect ass-cheeks again - all white and warm and softly resilient - framed by the lacy garter belt. Her shadowy crevice parted slightly and her pink, hair-lined cuntal lips and puckered little brown star of an anus came into view.
Goddamn, he thought, I'd like to bend her over the wash basin there and slip it to her that way. Just the thought made his limp, moistly gleaming cock begin to harden with renewed desire.
He saw Elaine look toward the paper towel container. It was empty. It had been empty for at least a couple of weeks.
Abruptly feeling a little embarrassed about the filthy condition of his restroom, Harry ripped off his tee-shirt and said gruffly, "Here . .. you can use this to wipe yourself off."
The rich young widow looked down at the shirt, then up at him. He wasn't sure if she were amused or contemptuous ... Christ! That was the trouble with a broad like this. You fucked them ... they liked it, but afterwards, it was hard to tell how they were going to react. A lot of them immediately put on "holier than thou" airs, others took out their own shame in a fury against the man who had made them cum. Only a few acted like a dame should - relaxed and happy that she had been fucked.
Then, gradually, he saw Elaine Crumpton smile. It was a genuine smile, one full of warmth and affection. She took the proffered tee-shirt and wiped herself up between the legs. "Thank you," she said softly.
Brodnik grinned back at her. Shit! Everything was going to be great, he thought. This sweet little lady and me are going to get along real good. Suddenly, for the first time in years, he was happy. His voice, full of good nature and laughter, boomed out as he grabbed up his overalls and said, "How about a beer?"
Elaine pursed her lips together and quickly stepped into her panties as her face dimpled. "I'd love one ... Harry."
CHAPTER FIVE
As Harry Brodnik used his master-key to open the refrigerated Coke machine where he kept his supply of beer, he was whistling - something he hadn't done in almost ten years. Gratefully, he felt the cool air wash out over his face as he removed two bottles of brew from the supply rack. He used the opener to pry the top off one and watched the foam swirl up through the brown neck of the bottle. The sight was pleasing to him for some reason. Although the beer always foamed up to the top in exactly the same manner, this was really the first time he had appreciated and savoured the sight for a long time.
He had just taken the cap off the second bottle when he spotted the wearily trudging young girl with a straw suitcase walking into the station.
As she drew closer, he saw the distressed look on her beautiful tear-streaked face. At first the burly gas station owner thought she was just another hippie wanting to use the rest room, but on second glance she didn't really seem that type either.
She stopped uncertainly in front of him, her stricken eyes taking in the dilapidated equipment and his own grease stained overalls.
"Yeh?" he demanded gruffly, but not in his usual bearish manner because he could see she was pretty frightened.
The girl swallowed, blinked a couple of times, and looked about to cry. "Are you ... Mister Brodnik?"
"Yeh. What do you want?"
He saw the tears rise like tiny water blisters in the corner of her eye and then overflow to run down her dust-streaked face.
"It's me... Coralee Brodnik. Harry Junior's wife. And ... and ..." now she was weeping with great shudders of distress rippling through her teen-aged body. "And... oh God, I need help."
Big Harry Brodnik, bear of a man and unflappable former Navy petty officer, presented a comical sight as he stood frozen there facing the anguished young girl. He looked and acted as if he had just been hit in the head with a belaying pin.
Harry Junior's wife? Jesus Christ! He had forgotten he had ever had a son ... hadn't seen him since the kid was five or six and his wife had taken him to the mid-west after running away with a Navy pilot and officer. News of the divorce had come through routinely about a year later, and Harry had heard his ex-wife had taken to the bottle after the pilot had left her for a redhead.
Suddenly unable to bear her shame any longer, Coralee fell to her knees on the asphalt driveway and buried her face in her hands. Her body shook with the heart-rending sobs.
"I... I...," Harry sputtered, not having the slightest idea of what to do, feeling foolish at standing there with two bottles of beer in his hands. Completely helpless, he looked bewilderedly around him for someone to tell him what to do with the weeping young girl.
And then he remembered Elaine Crumpton in the toilet.
His voice bellowed out like that of a bull about to charge. "ELAINE ... ELAINE ... COME HERE!"
The attractive young widow was, at that moment, attempting to make repairs on the ripped button holes of her skirt. She peered at the place where some of the buttons had been before Harry's big ham-like hand v had yanked them away as if they hadn't been sewed on at all. There was a languorous, rather happy look on her lovely features as she surveyed the damage to her $300 skirt. Elaine old girl, she said to herself, it was worth every penny of it! With the sure instinctive knowledge of a mature female, the voluptuous widow knew that something good had clicked into place for her and Harry Brodnik. The big ex-Navy man was a bear and a diamond in the rough- He was unrefined and unpolished and, in spite of his forceful ways, he had an inferiority complex a mile wide about everything except his sexual prowess. Well, she might not be able to do anything about refining him, but he could easily be polished... and a loving woman who willingly admitted that she needed him, would take care of that inferiority complex in no time at all.
"ELAINE ... ELAINE ... COME HERE!"
The bellow echoed in the toilet and the strawberry blonde widow stiffened in alarm. She recognized the fright in Brodnik's voice and immediately became frightened herself, thinking that the gas station man had hurt himself.
Uncaring of the fact that her skirt was hanging far too low on her waist, Elaine yanked open the toilet door and ran out into the gathering dusk. She stopped when she saw Harry standing as still as a statue in front of the opened Coke machine, two beers in his hands, a, straw suitcase overturned on the pavement, and the pathetic figure of a weeping girl kneeling in front of him.
"Harry," she breathed in alarm, "what did you do?"
"Do?" he almost squealed. "Do? I didn't do nothing."
Coralee merely sobbed louder at hearing the voice of a woman.
"What's wrong then," Elaine demanded of the gas station owner who was looking at her with pleading eyes.
"I don't know. She says she's my daughter-in-law and she needs help."
The attractive older woman, heedless of her expensive nylon hosiery, knelt on the rough asphalt in front of the young girl and put her arms around the shuddering figure.
"Honey . . . come on. You need help, well help you." She tilted up Coralee's chin so that the girl was forced to look at her. "Come on ... " she coaxed. "You're with friends now."
Coralee, hearing the words of reassurance, merely wept all the harder. i Elaine pulled the girl in closer to her breast and began stroking the long dark hair while patting the teen-ager on the back. "It's okay, honey. Honest. It's okay. We'll help you." The older woman sensed that something traumatic had really happened to the girl, and she figured it had something to do with sex. The poor kid looked so naive, so innocent, that she would definitely be the target of the first real son of a bitch that came along.
After a moment, the girl's sobs began to subside, even though her breath came in great shuddering gasps.
"That's better," Elaine crooned. She glanced up at Harry and then nodded her head toward her Cadillac. "Let's get her over there; we can talk to her there."
A moment later, she had pulled Coralee to her feet and, with an arm around her waist, was leading the distraught young girl toward the automobile.
As they walked, Elaine could feel her skirt beginning to slip down over her hips, and she swore silently. Harry, seeing what was happening, made the mistake of grinning and wiggling his eyebrows in lewd appreciation and got a dirty look from the widow.
Once Coralee was safely ensconced in the automobile, Elaine took complete charge.
"Harry," she ordered, "get the girl a soft drink."
He shook his head and held up a beer bottle to indicate that the only thing in the machine was beer; that was why he had taped the coin holes and put a sign on the machine OUT OF ORDER.
Elaine sighed and turned her attention back to the weeping teen-ager. "All right, honey.
What's wrong? Did someone ... ah ... molest you?"
Coralee swallowed and looked up blindly in her direction. Then she tightly clenched her eyes shut and nodded.
Elaine glanced knowingly toward the burly gas station owner. "That's what I figured," she said simply. She paused, looking down at the huddled figure of the brunette girl in the seat of the automobile, then turned to Harry. "Do you have a place to keep her?"
Brodnik took a step backward in alarm. Christ, his place was filthier than the gas station. He used the studio apartment for sleeping purposes only. The bed hadn't had clean sheets for at least three weeks and the kitchen was filled with old food cartons and dirty dishes. He shrugged and shook his head. "Not really."
"All right, then. She comes with me." That was settled, and the tone of voice indicated that she didn't want to discuss it any further. "Get her suitcase, Harry. Put it in the back seat. Ill take her home and settle her down."
"But.. . but...," Brodnik was trying to protest. Hell, he had figured they'd have a beer or two, then go back to the toilet for another go-round.
"No buts, darling ... just get her suitcase. Then, if you want. .. after you've cleaned up, come on by my house and all three of us will have dinner." She looked at him archly, obviously fighting a smile. "I suppose you do know how to reach my place?"
Harry actually blushed. Hell yes, he knew the house. He had driven past it one day last week after he had figured out the attractive widow was actually interested in him. The house itself couldn't be seen from the road, but it was huge ... there was no doubt about that. There had been a pool cleaning service truck parked in the driveway, so she had a swimming pool in addition to her four cars.
Brodnik didn't bother to answer her question, however. He went over to the straw suitcase, and a second later dumped it unceremoniously in the back seat of the Cadillac. Elaine, meanwhile, had gone around to the driver's seat. She started the car, then looked up at the burly gas station owner.
"You coming to dinner with us?"
Harry scratched his head and growled, "Ohhh ... I don't know."
"Darling, don't give me that crap about bowling tonight. I happen to know that you usually just go home and flop down in front of a television set on this night of the week."
"You been following me?" he bellowed, a look of outrage suddenly replacing the j astonishment on his face.
"Of course, you old bear you. We'll see you around' eight. 'By, darling." She pushed the button rolling up the window and dropped the car into drive gear, moving out of the gas station.
Harry stood there for a split second outraged. By God, the damned woman was already treating him like a pussy-whipped husband.
"Well don't hold your breath," he bellowed in outrage. "I ain't coming."
The Cadillac turned out of the station onto Flagstaff Road and began moving away.
"You hear me?" he yelled. Then his shoulders slumped a little. "Besides... I... I... well, don't expect me to wear no tie!"
Brodnik watched the car make a right turn and disappear from sight, then lifted a bottle of beer and drained it in three gulps. He threw the bottle over his shoulder without looking toward the trash barrel and heard it clank against metal, indicating he had made a direct hit.
"Son of a bitch," he said wonderingly, then his face broke into a grin which made him look about ten years younger and rather handsome in a bearish sort of way. "Son of a bitch. She's hooked me... "
CHAPTER SIX
Two weeks later Coralee was lying on a chaise lounge beside Elaine Crumpton's large oval swimming pool. She drowsed, listening to the gurgling sound of the small water-fall that fed the pool at the far end. She was wearing a two-piece red, polka dot bikini which did absolutely nothing to hide the sensual promise of her ripe young body.
The teen-ager simply couldn't believe her good luck. She knew she would never forget that traumatic afternoon when the man named Frankie had taken those lewd photographs of her and then made her lose control of herself until she was a moaning, pleading, shameless creature beneath him caring for one thing only: his long hard penis bringing her a pleasure she had never before realized existed.
But if it hadn't been for what the would-be agent had done, she probably wouldn't be where she was today ... probably wouldn't have Elaine Crumpton as a friend who treated her like a daughter or younger sister. It hadn't been easy telling Elaine how much she had messed up her life already... a divorcee, a stupid teen-ager who had believed the first smooth talking male to come along after she got to Hollywood.
Elaine was properly sympathetic, but the attractive widow had also minimized what had happened.
"Coralee darling," Elaine had said. "You're a big girl now. Big girls make mistakes too ... maybe not as many as adolescent girls, but they do make them. Look at it this way: you made a mistake. You've learned from your mistake. The nude photographs? Well, that's bad in a way, but even if you become famous, they won't do you that much harm; they might even be valuable from a publicity standpoint. As for that Frankie individual." She had paused, obviously trying to put it in the right words, "Well... you learned something from that. You admit that you'd never had an orgasm from your husband. Frankie gave you two or three really wild ones, according to your description. So, in a way, he made you appreciate your own body. Look at it that way... it'll make you feel better."
Both of those rationalizations had taken a bit of getting used to, but Coralee finally had to admit that she could either continue to flay herself with guilt for the rest of her life ... or she could accept what had happened and go on with her life.
A little flutter of excitement rippled through her body as she remembered that sometime later today a friend of Elaine's late husband would be coming to the house to interview her - Coralee! The teen-aged brunette again couldn't believe her good fortune, and perhaps that was because it had taken so long for her to realize the implications of the fact that Elaine's husband had been an Academy Award winning art director. It had come to her only gradually that, of course, Elaine would know all sorts of movie people.
The attractive widow had listened to Coralee telling why she had come to Hollywood, had observed the girl while she excitedly described her three years of drama classes in high school in which she had 'starred' in three different productions ... and the strawberry blonde older woman had read the tattered clippings from the mid-west weekly paper which described Coralee's acting as "quite professional". It had been difficult for Elaine to keep from smiling at the young girl's unrealistic hopes of becoming a movie star.
Elaine said, a certain amount of pity in her voice, "Coralee ... you know there are almost 50,000 starry-eyed girls a year who come here for the same reason."
"Yes, I know that. But I still think ... no, I know I can do it if only I get a chance to prove it."
Elaine laughed then. "All right, darling. Well give you a chance if that's what you want."
And so it had happened just like that. Elaine merely had to pick up the telephone and make one call. And this afternoon, Carl Ritchie, one of Hollywood's best known talent scouts and drama coaches was coming.
Only one thing still bothered the naive young girl. Elaine had sat her down and the two women had a long heart-to-heart talk about exactly what Coralee could expect.
"It's a decision only you can make," the attractive straw-berry blonde widow had said.
"I don't understand."
Elaine blushed a little, and then inspected her fingernails. "Hollywood is a very sexual town. Everything, and sister, I do mean everything, revolves around sex. Sooner or later - and I have a feeling that it will be pretty damned soon - you're going to be faced with the problem of a man who can help you get what you want providing you meet his price. His price for helping you will be you." When she saw the incomprehension on the young girl's face, she added, "He'll want to go to bed with you."
"But... but... that's not fair."
Elaine smiled ruefully. "It's fair by their rules. After all this is their game; they established it and they wrote the rule book. You play by their rules if you want to play period."
Coralee was thoughtful for a long time; she knew the older woman was closely inspecting her face to determine what she was thinking. Finally Coralee took a deep breath. "What would you do?"
The older woman looked thoughtful. "Well, I was in your position once." She was silent for a few moments, then sighed. "I couldn't do it. You see, I'm essentially a woman who needs a man - one man. I really couldn't go for group sex or having half a dozen boy friends on the string like some women I know here in Hollywood." She inclined her head and grinned, "I'm a square."
"Well then, so am I."
"Not so fast, darling. I didn't say that I didn't try it. I did. I just didn't like it. If I had liked making it with a lot of different men and was willing to give everything for my career, you would have seen my name in lights a long time ago.
"It's sort of like being a whore ... isn't it?" Elaine nodded. "In a way."
"Well... aren't there any decent people in the business?"
Elaine laughed. "A lot of them, darling. But to get to them, you have to run the gauntlet of the body snatchers, as they're called ... unless, of course, you are already established in some other field, like Broadway."
"Tell me what to do, Elaine."
"No ... no! It's strictly your life. You think about it, then I'll make a telephone call if you'd like to try it."
Elaine had started to walk away when Coralee called out, "I've already thought about it. I don't like it... but I'll try it, because more than anything else in this world, I want to be in films."
"All right. Ill ask Carl Ritchie to come by and talk to you."
* * *
Carl Ritchie, when he arrived shortly before five o'clock, was one of the most handsome men Coralee had ever seen. She watched his tall, almost lean figure as he strolled across the lawn and headed toward her at the pool. He was wearing a Navy blue cashmere blazer, light gray trousers, a white sport coat open at the collar, with a blue print ascot.
The excited teenager knew her face was aflame, even though she tried to give the appearance of being cool, calm, and collected.
Carl Ritchie's voice went with his appearance: it was well-educated, virile, and dramatically modulated. His first words were: "I must say that Elaine was not exaggerating when she said you were lovely, my dear."
Somehow or the other, Coralee was able to laugh in pleasure at his compliment.
The forty year old drama coach sat down at the foot of the chaise lounge and stared up at her. She saw his eyes taking in her figure and was at once glad that Elaine had insisted she meet him in this skimpy bathing suit. .. and that she meet him alone.
The inspection concluded, Carl nodded his head in appreciation. "Very good. Very good indeed. You've got the basic equipment anyway."
"Aaaagghhh gawane witcha," Coralee replied in a perfect Cockney accent.
The drama coach obviously was startled. His eyes widened and his mouth dropped open.
Coralee giggled, bit her lip, and gazed at him mischievously.
"I say. Elaine didn't mention that you ... ah . .. were English."
"I'm not," the laughing teenager replied. "That's Liza Doolittle, My Fair Lady. I played her."
Now Ritchie was laughing also. "I like that," he said. "Yes... I like that very much. I suppose Elaine told you to pull that on me."
Coralee immediately became serious, not knowing if he was angry or not. "No... my idea." She swallowed. "I didn't want to brag about my high school dramatic roles, but that way you were the one who asked me ... I'm sorry."
"Don't be. It's very successful." He looked at her body again, then ordered, "Stand up, my dear."
Coralee did as he instructed, and when he told her to walk along the edge of the pool, she did so, consciously trying not to sway her buttocks.
Carl stared at the young girl's lushly ripened body. His nostrils dilated in appreciation. Her body was very close to perfection. Perhaps her breasts were a bit larger than the contemporary style, but big-breasted actresses would come back, and besides, tits had never harmed a would-be actress. Watching her smoothly rounded ass-cheeks undulate with each step, he realized that he had a winner in the dark-haired beauty, providing she could act. Her voice was just right, melodious in the low scale. He would have her deepen the tone a bit; it would sound sexier then. When she turned around and walked back toward him, he was all too aware of the indentation where her tight swim trunks pressed into her vaginal cleavage above the long firm thighs.
"All right, Coralee. Sit down again." He watched as she eased her unblemished body back on the chaise lounge again and found himself growing excited.
"You know what's involved?" he asked.
"Yes," she whispered, her face coloring.
"Tell me."
She swallowed loudly and turned her eyes downward, rather than look at him. "I might have to ... to ... to go to bed with you," she suddenly blurted.
Carl Ritchie threw back his head and laughed. He laughed until tears were streaming down his face and Coralee was becoming angry at not knowing quite how she had made a fool of herself.
Ritchie wiped the tears from his face with his hand, and took a deep breath to regain composure. He coughed, then said, "Well, my dear. I must say, you're candid." He laughed again. "Certainly, with a body like you have ... and those very very soft lips ... yes, I would have to be a stone monument not to want to possess you. But that wasn't what I meant when I asked if you knew what was involved."
Coralee stared at him, miserable at appearing naive and bewildered by what he was asking.
The drama coach took pity on her and answered his own question. "My dear, it's not an easy life. First of all, you can count on at least a year and a half of schooling. Intensive schooling.
We have to teach you how to walk, how to talk, how to move, where to stand, how to look, how to breathe... we start from scratch, and we teach you everything. School starts at eight in the morning, you get an hour for lunch, then we work until six. From seven to ten-thirty you're watching films or television ... and making notes on what you see. If you go out to a party or a preview at night and stay out until five, you still report for class at eight."
He stared at her from under heavy eyebrows and nodded as he saw he had the teenaged brunette's rapt attention. "You can miss a total of five days during that year and a half. More than five, and I'll toss you out into the street. After you graduate, you're under exclusive contract to me for a total of five years. That contract is cancelable by me, but not by you. If you become a top-flight star on television or in the movies, and they pay me a quarter of a million for you to do a film, you still will receive only your contract salary."
Coralee had opened her mouth to say something, when the drama coach held up his hand. "That's it. No discussions. No protests. You either want to do it. .. or you don't."
"I want to," Coralee said quickly.
"And one other thing," Ritchie said. "When I tell you to do something, you'll do it. Now repeat that after me."
The teenaged girl dutifully repeated, "When ou tell me to do something, I will do it."
"Anything."
"Anything."
Carl Ritchie's handsome face broke into a wide smile. He held out his hand. "Okay. You start Monday morning. Move into my school Sunday night... that will be your home for the next two years."
The two of them looked up as they heard laughter coming from the open French doors leading to the house. A second later Elaine emerged, her arm around Harry Brodnik's waist.
For the twentieth time since that afternoon when she had first met her father-in-law, Coralee was surprised at the rapid change in the burly gas station owner. Today he was dressed in a white polo shirt which was stretched tight over his massive chest, and wearing a pair of white duck pants and a pair of white shoes. For a split second he appeared as a very well-to-do physical culturist or tennis coach. He had cut his hair in a stylish manner and it appeared as if he had lost about twenty pounds in two weeks. Elaine had said early that the weight loss was fifteen pounds, which came from cutting down from eighteen bottles of beer a day to three. They made a handsome couple together and, Coralee reflected, a happy couple who seemed to enjoy each other a great deal.
Carl stood up at their approach. "Elaine, darling, you look positively glowing."
"Carl... thank you. Carl, this is Harry Brodnik."
The two men shook hands, with Carl grimacing just a trifle as Brodnik in his enthusiasm tightened his fingers in a Navy-buddy grip.
Elaine looked at the ecstatically smiling young girl who had just been accepted into the drama academy. "Well... I can see the interview went all right."
"I think you're going to be very proud of this young lady, Elaine," Carl said. "I could be wrong, but I think she's going places."
"That's not bad for a eighteen year old, is it, sweetie?" the attractive strawberry blonde widow said to the girl.
Carl Ritchie croaked. Jesus Christ! What was this? Why hadn't Elaine warned him?
"When will you be eighteen?" he asked, the pain showing on his face. Inwardly he was seething. Here was one of the nicest bodies he had seen in months and just as he was anticipating tucking her into bed Sunday night at his place, he learned she was underage and off-limits.
Coralee instinctively read his disappointment. For a moment or two she thought about lying to him, but then realized that if she were going to trust this man with her career, she must always be honest with him. "I'll be eighteen in three months."
He stood there in indecision for a moment, with all three people staring at him with a certain amount of puzzlement on their faces.
Then the drama coach relaxed. Three months! That was one hell of a long time to wait for a tasty morsel like this Coralee Brodnik, but it might be fun building up his appetite . .. and when he finally got to her, he'd throw a fuck into her she would remember the rest of her life.
Carl nodded just once. "Okay. School starts at eight o'clock Monday morning." He turned to Elaine. "Thanks for bringing her to my attention."
Elaine stared him directly in the eye. "Be good to her, Carl." It was said almost in a warning tone of voice.
"Don't worry, darling. You know I will be."
Ritchie glanced toward Harry Brodnik and briefly thought about offering his hand in farewell, but, remembering the powerful grip of a few moments earlier, decided to merely give a little wave instead.
They all watched him disappear through the ivy-enshrouded gate leading toward the parking area, then Coralee's teenaged exuberance broke forth. "Did you hear, Elaine - Harry? I'm going to be a movie actress!" Laughing, she threw her arms around the older couple. "I've never been happier before in my whole life. It's an entire new world for me." She pirouetted, her lithe young body gleaming in the fading light of the late afternoon, and she sang, "I'm going to be famous..."
END OF PART ONE
PART TWO
CHAPTER SEVEN
Coralee watched the candlelight softly flicker across Carl Ritchie's face down at the end of the table. She took a deep breath of contentment and relaxation, and sipped what was left of her fifth glass of champagne. She felt beautiful, and she knew she was beautiful. The clinging, soft silk long formal gown clung to all her curves; it revealed far more of her than she cared to reveal, but Carl had insisted she wear it.
Down at the end of the table, the drama coach lifted his glass in a toast. "Happy birthday, again."
She smiled at him from downcast eyes. "Thank you, Carl."
It had been a hectic, unbelievable three weeks for the teen-aged brunette. First of all, she hadn't seen Carl Ritchie except on two fleeting occasions when he had come to the classrooms where she was taking a course in breathing, of all things. The classes had surprised her. For some reason she had thought she would be the only student. Instead, there were about twenty others, males and females. Noticing the odd way they acted around her, Coralee soon discovered that she was a "special student", and that there were only three other "specials" living on the grounds of the drama academy. All were females, all were proteges of Carl Ritchie and presumed headed for big things. If sometimes Coralee or the other "specials" got a snide look from one of the regular students, the teen-ager merely put it down to jealousy.
The work was even harder than Carl had implied in the beginning. When Coralee went to bed at eleven o'clock every night, she slept the sleep of the dead until the alarm rang at 7:00 AM in the morning.
Then, just this afternoon, she had been called out of class for a minute by Carl Ritchie, himself, and told that he wanted her to spend her birthday dinner with him because he had a "big surprise" for her.
Mystified, but pleased, Coralee immediately broke her earlier date for dinner with Elaine and Harry Brodnik. Later, on returning to her room, she had found the box from Western Costume containing the slinky silk gown and a note requesting her to wear it this evening.
It had been thrilling to sit here in the huge baronial dining room with the handsome middle-aged man, equally thrilling to be served by a waiter and butler, both of whom treated her like a queen.
Yes, the impressionable teenaged girl thought, this is what I was born to be. A woman being dined and courted by candlelight.
Floating in a cloud of champagne-induced euphoria, Coralee's mind returned to her conversation three weeks ago with Elaine, when the attractive widow had warned her that there was a price attached to everything. Now, the young girl thought defiantly, she was prepared to pay any price for this new style of living.
Even though a shrill small voice inside her brain kept fussing at her, Coralee knew that when the time came - and it obviously was drawing closer with each passing moment - she would gladly pay the price. She really didn't expect to get any physical pleasure out of it; that horrible afternoon when she had responded to the phony agent had been a complete fluke. After all, a woman could only climax with a man she loved, and although Coralee was fond of Carl Ritchie, she definitely was not the least bit in love with him.
"Well, my dear," the drama coach said, smiling down the table at her, "it's time for your big surprise." He stood and walked down to her. As she looked up at him, he bent down and kissed her bare shoulder and neck. A sudden ripple of lewd excitement surged through the young girl's body, and the older man laughed as he saw her involuntary response.
"Very nicely put," he said. "But wait until you see your birthday present." Gently, he put his hand under her elbow and helped the teen-aged brunette to rise.
The candlelight danced and flickered as they left the table. Carl led her to a door that she hadn't noticed before, and, opening it, led her inside. Coralee knew even before they got in what would be on the other side. A huge bed, covered with a beautiful brocade spread ... that and a deep pile rug were the only things in the room.
They stood silently before the bed, and then the dark-haired teenager looked up at the older man. He gazed down at her and squeezed her hand slightly as if to reassure her.
Suddenly Coralee felt like the most beautiful, most desirable woman in the world. Perhaps, she mused, as delicate tremors of excitement began to race through her, she had been wrong in thinking she wouldn't derive pleasure from sex with this man.
Carl bent down and pulled the trembling young girl into his arms, crushing her softly yielding body to him and pressing his hot hungering mouth to hers. His kiss was returned instantly, and she knew that she loved it... loved the taste and smell of him. She thrust her tongue back sharply into the wet cavern of his mouth, breathing deeply as he kissed her back with animal-like passion. Her shame and embarrassment were gone and there seemed that nothing else existed but this place, this time, this handsome middle-aged man holding her so tightly ... with more tenderness and yet more strength than her freaked-out young husband had ever shown her.
Slowly, deliciously, Carl Ritchie began to undress her, removing the curve-hugging formal gown that fit her so snugly with gentle hands. Next came her brassiere, releasing her ripely swelling breasts to the touch of his experienced fingers. He slipped her panties down over the flaring curves of her naked ass-cheeks, and when he got them to her feet, helped her step out of them. He reached up and undid her long chestnut hair letting it fall to her shoulders, and soon the teen-aged girl was standing naked before him with the exception of her garter belt, stockings and high heels.
The drama coach looked her over carefully. She looked even better than the day she had been lying by the pool. The rosy tint of her bare skin glowed softly in the candlelight as he led her to the bed.
"Lie down," he said in a hoarse whisper. "Please." Coralee felt her entire body burning with a new kind of heat at the sound of his voice. Oh God! She was going to give herself to this man. She was going to voluntarily commit adultery with him in order to become an actress. It was going to happen now ... in just a few seconds on this very bed. And she knew that she had never wanted anything so badly in her life before.
She lay back, feeling the cool of the air caressing her unclothed body. He was looking at her nakedness, she knew, and yet she felt no shame, only a steadily rising excitement that she could hardly contain.
Carl undressed at the foot of this bed, never taking his lewdly hungering eyes away from his prize for a moment.
"You are everything and more than I expected, young lady," he said mentally, "And tonight I'm going to fuck you like you've never been fucked before."
His eyes roamed over the rich glistening strands of her undone hair spread out on the dark coverlet of the bed, her cream-white shoulders and arms, the succulent breasts that softly formed round curves upon her chest, the small waist and well-rounded thighs .. . that soft tuft of brown pussy hair below her belly.
"You were made for loving, Coralee," he said aloud, slowly removing his clothes. "We've wasted that precious body of yours too long.
Tonight we're going to use it as God intended it to be used."
He was completely undressed now, standing before her. Coralee looked up at him through lust-smoked eyes. She couldn't believe how beautiful he looked. She had never thought a man could be really beautiful, but he was. His body was perfectly proportioned with a muscularity that was hidden beneath a smooth, even complexioned skin. The dark curls of his hair repeated themselves upon his chest, and his hips were slender. But then she saw that his penis was growing in size, even while she watched. It seemed to be getting bigger and bigger, and in a few moments it was standing out thick and hard from his groin, like a huge inflexible spear. Her eyes grew round as she watched its awesome growth. The apprehensive teenager had never seen a penis so big! Actually she had only seen her husband and that awful man named Frankie ... and an occasional statue or photograph of a naked man whose penises had been limp. But Carl Ritchie was far bigger than her husband, bigger, longer and thicker than Frankie.
My God, it was big!!
She was frightened all of a sudden at the thought that this massive male instrument was going to attempt to get up inside her tight vaginal sheath. It was impossible ... It would never fit, she knew. It would never get inside her!
The drama coach was watching the fearful young girl's expression, and he guessed what she was going through.
"Is it big enough for you?" he asked, an amused smile playing on his lips.
Coralee gulped and tried to speak, but she couldn't.
The older man stood for a moment longer, almost posing for her, letting her get a good look at his rapidly rising cock. He could tell she was afraid. He had seen that look before, but he knew that before long it would turn to another kind of look, one of lust as she felt the long hard thickness of his shaft sliding in and out of her stretched vaginal passage, touching nerve-endings and bringing an animal rapture to her loins.
He started toward her.
"Carl..." the teen-ager stammered, having second thoughts now about the whole thing ... But she knew that it didn't matter now what she said or did, or how she felt about it. It was going to happen, and there was no stopping it!
Ritchie crawled onto her nakedly outstretched body, letting himself down on her gently, and pushing his tongue between her protesting lips. With his thigh and knee he parted her fearfully trembling legs, spreading them wide beneath him.
Crushed into the bed by his weight, feeling his tongue deep inside her mouth, Coralee lay quivering, half fearful, almost numb, and half out of her mind with a tremulous anticipation. His rigidly pulsating penis was resting against her thigh and its heat seemed to penetrate her leg.
"Wider, my dear, spread your legs wider ..." he urged. Without volition, Coralee opened her thighs until her heels almost touched each side of the bed.
The naked older man pulled himself up, arms stiff, resting on either side of her. Then he took one hand and placed it between their lewdly entwined bodies, grasping his huge pulsing cock in his fingers. A moment later he pushed it forward, prodding with the smooth rubbery head at the soft pliant lips of Coralee's wetly quivering pussy.
The young brunette closed her eyes tight and turned her head to one side. "Oh, no!" she thought, shuddering at the lewd contact... so personal... so oddly exciting . . . rock-hard and hot against the sensitivity of the entrance to her cunt. She didn't dare breathe, fearing she might hasten what was to come. But it happened anyway.
"OOOOOOOOOOooooooooH" she whimpered as she felt his pulsating thickness begin to push at her tender vaginal opening.
"Aaaaaaaaaaagh!" He pushed again, harder this time, and the hard, purplish head of his massive organ slipped a few centimeters into the tight pink mouth of her painfully stretched cunt. If she could have opened her legs wider, she could have relieved the unbearable pressure his cock was exerting on her almost virginal opening. But she couldn't open up anymore.
"Oh, it hurts! It hurts ..." she writhed, and tried to squirm from beneath him, but the drama coach was too strong for her and held her fast, crushing down onto her. "It's too big... !" she cried out. "Please, you'll kill me ... it's too big!"
But when she opened her eyes to see if he was paying any attention to her, she saw that there was a sadistic smile on his face. Oh God! He was enjoying her torment! She watched with horror as his expression turned from one of pleasure to a contorted leer, and simultaneously, he pulled slightly back from her leaving only the lust-swollen head of his cock embedded just inside her tightly clasping cuntal lips.
Carl Ritchie couldn't wait another minute. He had been patient with this delectable little bitch all this time. It had been three weeks now since he had first laid eyes on her sensual young body ... with most females he would not have been this patient... but he wanted more from Coralee Brodnik than just a moment's passion.
Much more!
He thrust his hips forward savagely and his big thick cock rammed into her tight little vagina, stretching the delicate tissues and surging deep into her, pushing the softly yielding cuntal flesh ahead of it in rippling waves of ecstasy and pain.
An expression of raw lust came over his features as he felt the tight sheath of the girl's wetly heated pussy enclosing his cock. This sweet little would-be actress that he had watched for so long was now finally spread-eagled beneath him, skewered to the bed by his hotly throbbing penis. God, it was wonderful! He kept pushing forward until his long hard cock could go no further, and he stopped at the end of her wide-stretched pussy with a loud groan as his cum-laden balls smacked hard up against her nakedly upturned ass-cheeks.
"Aaaaaaaaaaaagh . .. aaaaaaaa!" Coralee wailed in pain beneath him. She felt as though her painfully pulsating vagina had been torn to pieces and stretched beyond repair. Nothing that big had ever been inside of her.
Carl's enormous member was lodged deeply up inside her secret passage like some huge battering ram, touching the very tip of her cervix, wide and hot, filling her everywhere. The older man remained still, his thick rigid penis pushing within its tight encasement, waiting for the moaning young brunette's pain to subside.
Gradually, as they both lay immobile, Coralee became accustomed to the huge spear of flesh that- impaled her. It was a weird sensation and one which allowed for no other thoughts.
"Oh, God," she sobbed, "Oh, God," fearing to move an inch one way or the other.
Then Carl nudged forward another few centimeters, and she groaned in pain again.
The hair that curled around her face was a mass of chestnut ringlets as perspiration streamed from her forehead, and she could feel the spread beneath her damp and soggy from the sweat that was suddenly pouring from her body.
"Relax..." Carl breathed into her ear. "Remember breathing class. Relax .-.. relax! Let me feel all that tension go out of you!"
"... I can't," Coralee mumbled tearfully.
"Yes .. . you can!" The middle-aged man flexed his cock high up in her painfully rippling belly.
"Noooo-ooooo!" she cried out, but already the pain seemed to be subsiding as she attempted to do as he said. There was nothing else to do . . . she would try anything . . . anything that might make the pain less.
"When I name a part of your body you will relax it... " Carl said .. . the muscles in his stomach now strained taut by the effort of holding himself up with his arms. His hair fell over into her face as he spoke down to her, his voice deep and smooth.
The skewered teen-ager listened, her mind a blur of thoughts ... it was worse than when she had been a virgin and her husband had first made love to her ... much worse ... and now Carl's voice was droning into her ear ...
"Head . . . neck . . . eyes . . . nose . . . lips..." She found herself beginning to respond to his words and the different parts of her body would relax themselves as he mentioned them. Her mind was being lulled as she began to feel more and more comfortable. Every muscle in her vagina relaxed at his bidding and the young girl felt the welcome relief of the absence of pain.
When the experienced older man saw that the last bit of resistance was leaving the voluptuous young girl's body, he smiled to himself. She was his ... every bit of her was his.
The narrow tightness of her hotly clasping pussy was widening so that he could move freely within her now, and he began fucking with long smooth strokes, in and out, slowly rocking the girl beneath him. Coralee's proud young breasts pushed up against his chest, moved as his body rose and fell over her. Abruptly a hot spark of hunger was kindled low in her belly, as though something had to replace the great pain she had felt, and that was it. Lust came creeping from nowhere, revolving like falling leaves first in her ravaged cunt, everywhere that Carl's long thick penis touched, every time he moved out and then thrust his wonderfully hardened organ into her cunt the flames leapt higher, until the abandoned teen-ager was lost in an obscene dance of desire.
His very hugeness was enough to make her feel as though she had been incomplete before being filled this way. Even the agonizing pain now seemed to have been a part of the wondrous sensation that was now enveloping her. Ripples of lewd pleasure ran up and down her spine as the rhythm of Carl's fucking increased and the massive member started scraping harder against her sensitive cervix.
She began to groan in obscene rapture, while her naked young frame jerked spasmodically in answer to each body-jolting thrust up into her ecstatic cuntal sheath. She was groveling in the erotic pleasure that she felt, a love slave, while he was the master. Her face changed from her usual perpetual innocence to one of complete depravity as the massive pole of flesh fucking between her legs thrust even higher into the burning pit of her belly. Her nostrils flared and her tongue searched out the older man's mouth as her hands locked around his neck to draw him closer to her.
"OH., .oh... oh... OH!" she cried out with each wonderful stroke of his thick rigid cock into her eagerly uptilted cunt. She arched her back and began to work her legs against the bed as though she wanted to crawl up onto his back, as though she wanted her love-starved pussy to devour him whole.
"It's too good .. . too gooooooood" Coralee began to croon as her lewd delight overruled her inhibitions.
"I thought it was too big!" Carl grunted above her ... "Guess you were mistaken ... " Coralee squirmed in uncontrollable abandon, the cords of her neck standing out with the effort of her lust. If she had ever been anything but Carl Ritchie's whore, she didn't know it now. She made a conscious effort to scrape her erect little clitoris against his pistoning shaft and was successful in increasing the delicious unbelievable intensity again and again... as much as she could. She had never dreamed that such delight was possible.
Carl worked mightily above the teen-ager's wildly writhing body, changing his pace every so often from short strokes to long strokes and back again, like a musician working out some staccato jazz beat. His hands toyed first with her nakedly quivering breasts and then went down to the sensitive folds of her cock-stuffed pussy to tease the nub of her clitoris while his wetly glistening penis continued its relentless battering in and out between her wide-stretched legs.
"OOoh Ohhh-hhhhhhhhhhh God ..." she shivered, "Oh this is... " she didn't get a chance to finish, for she caught her breath as the first overpowering jolts of her orgasm blanked out her mind, strangling her words in her throat, as each hidden recess of her insanely tingling cunt was caught up in the mushrooming explosion. Her heaving breasts scraped against his chest as the wide open plane of her wetly convulsing pussy received the buffeting of his loins. Faster and faster the older man fucked into her, slamming deep into her orgasm, driving her to even greater heights of mindless pleasure.
"AHAH, ah ah ah aaaaaaaaah! I'm . . . I'm . . . cummmmming! Aaaaaaiiiiiieeee!" she cried as the waves of rapture built one on top of the other until the peak of her orgasm inundated her mind and racked her body with great convulsive sobs.
Carl sighed as he felt the cute teen-aged brunette coming apart beneath him. He, too, was at the breaking point... his wildly jerking cock could take no more of her twisting and screaming, and her tight, wetly clasping cunt was sucking him dry.
"Aaaaaaaaaaah! Yes!" he cried out, as he felt his pent-up sperm racing up the tube of his burgeoning cock and ejaculating to mix with her climactic juices.
"Yessssss! Oh God yesssss," Coralee half screamed as she felt the first great shooting jet of his scalding sperm ricocheting around inside her cunt like a flood of undammed volcanic lava...
So lost in her lewd pleasure was the climaxing young girl that she didn't see Carl Ritchie look up toward the huge wall mirror and grin in obscene triumph. Then he winked conspiratorially and jerked his head toward the door!
* * *
The two men in the next room watched with interest through the two way mirror as Carl Ritchie and the naked teen-ager lay spent in each others arms. They had been watching for some time, and each had undressed completely and were anxiously holding their erected cocks in their hands.
"Whew . . . he sure gave it to her good .. . " the tall blond actor said as he fluffed up the buds of his mustache speculatively.
"Yeah..." his agent answered ..." I wonder when Carl wants us to come in? I for one am more than ready now!" He rubbed his huge thick penis tenderly. "It's starting to ache, Glenn!"
The actor tapped the smaller man on the shoulder as he saw Carl Ritchie's wink. "He wants us to come in now ... lets go!"
* * *
When the two naked men walked into the room, Coralee was so shocked that she couldn't budge. She and Carl were still lounging on the big bed. He had brought another champagne bottle in from the other room and they were sipping the cooling drink. The naked teen-aged girl had been gazing lovingly at the older man. How else to explain what she had just been through other than to say it was love. The word had not yet formed itself in her head. But she knew that what she felt for him was something out of the ordinary, something special. He had brought her birthday gifts in .... the packages that she had almost forgotten, and they had opened them together, one by one. Rare perfumes, portable television, two kinds of fur coats, a dark sable, a mink trench coat . . . beautiful dresses that fit her perfectly ... It was like Christmas . ..
Then Carl had told her he had another present for her, and Glenn Morgan and his agent Stan Fiver had walked in .. . nude!
Coralee screamed and tried to cover herself with the spread when she got over the initial shock of seeing her favorite cowboy stand in the same room with her, and naked! He looked so familiar, though, from having been in so many movies that the teen-ager had seen, that she knew him very well. That didn't make things any better however.
The star and his agent came and sat on the bed next to her, while Carl lay back casually on the other side of her. The young brunette looked fearfully at the drama coach for some explanation ...
"All part of your present..." he murmured ... "Remember what I taught you, my dear ... relax!"
"But... But I don't understand ..." she half cried ... "I don't understand ..."
Thoroughly frightened now, Coralee looked at Glen's eyes and saw that he was looking at her hungrily. She tried to pull the covers up tighter, but she knew that the two men had already seen everything.
"Don't cover up that beautiful body," the actor said, a lecherous glint forming in his eyes. The trembling young girl merely clutched the spread even closer ...
Coralee finally was forced to turn back to Glenn, who was sitting very close to her now on the rumpled bed.
"Happy Birthday, honey," he said. She was trying not to look at his enormous erection.
"Carl?" she implored. But the drama agent got up slowly and yawned ... "These are my good friends, my dear..." he said. "I think you'll enjoy them ... I know they'll love you. From time to time you'll be meeting other friends ... We all have a mutually co-operative understanding at the academy here."
Carl moved toward the door. "I'll be back in a little while. Meanwhile ... try to enjoy yourself, darling."
The door closed quietly behind him and Coralee looked at the back of it, realizing that it meant her complete moral downfall. It was all too clear what Glenn Morgan and his agent wanted from her . .. but she knew she could never go through with it... My God! It was bad enough being one man's whore, but to be nothing but a gang bang! No! Never!!! The bewildered young girl looked around her ... the floor was strewn with wrapping paper. All the beautiful presents were cast like discarded trash about the floor. It looked ugly and obscene to her. The earlier wonderful feelings that she had experienced were shattered like a cheap crystal dream. Oh God! She had been so stupid again. Would she ever learn.
She began to sob uncontrollably as Glenn reached out to touch her.
"Come on now, sweetheart... Most females think my face is interesting; most of them would shoot their husbands and trade in five mules for a chance to go to bed with me. I never saw a girl break down and cry before when they knew they were getting me; did you Stan?"
"No, Glenn baby. They all went ape shit."
Coralee moved away from him on the bed in a futile attempt at resistance, but the tall western star held her fast, his arm around her shoulder now in a deceptively protective gesture.
The naked teen-aged brunette shuddered, within moments, she knew it would all be over. She could already feel Glen's breath on her neck ... This famous man was going to rape her . . .his lewdly grinning agent would probably do the same. She recoiled as the actor reached around and grasped her nakedly quivering breasts, tweaking at her berry-like nipples beneath the sheet. She moaned and turned her head to the side as she felt the sheet being lifted from the side and the touch of the other man on her uncovered leg.
"My agent, Stan, gets ten percent of everything I get," Glenn said, laughing. "Come on now, sweetie," he added ... "Don't be cold with us. You heard what Carl said ... we're all in the same thing together... so to speak .. .Friends. Share and share alike!"
Stan Fiver's fingers were running along the sensitive inside of her thigh and when she shuddered and tried to draw away, the actor held her fast around the arms. Grinning sadistically, he took playful nibbles at her neck as his head slowly dropped lower. The young girl kicked out, trying to get away, but all she succeeded in doing was to permit Stan's probing fingers further access to her secret flesh. Moaning piteously, Coralee tightly closed her legs apart.
"That's a boy," he grunted. "Loosen up sweetie, and let old Dad in."
A second later he had completely exposed her hair-lined vaginal furrow. "Oh . . . That's nice," Stan said as his outstretched middle finger slipped into the moist pink lips of her fearfully trembling pussy and began toying eagerly with the slipperiness of Carl Ritchie's sperm still remaining up inside her tight little cunt.
"Please .. . don't," she pleaded. "Oh God! Please don't touch me there!" But her pleas were too late. The damage had been done for the agent's thick finger rapidly slid up inside her wetly throbbing pussy while his thumb sought out the erected bud of her clitoris. The moaning teen-ager tried to squirm down so that his finger could not move about, but it only made everything worse. The covers had fallen away now, and the big cowboy star had hold of her warm, tingling breasts, nimbly massaging the soft resilient mounds until he had forced the nipples into stiffness.
Coralee felt as though she had stepped into a nightmare. The sensitive nub of her clitoris was being deftly manipulated until it stood high among the pink fleshy folds of her pussy, and Gleason was pulling her down so that the other man could have more room to work on her futilely squirming vaginal slit. "Oh, Glenn, baby ... you should get your hand in this sweet little pussy. She's all wet from fuckin' Carl. This little party was worth flying down from Frisco for!"
"Well, Carl told us it would be, didn't he? And he's seldom wrong!"
"No ... no ... I am not a whore, leave me alone!" Coralee began to scream another vain attempt to get away from the two lewdly caressing men. Her ears were burning with the casual words of their conversation while her body was being shamelessly plundered against her will.
"Cut that out, honey . .. Ain't gonna do you no good!" The cowboy actor smiled brilliantly down at her, his capped teeth glistening in the soft light, his accent one for which he was wildly celebrated.
"Keep it up, Stan," he said ... " She'll be hot to trot in a few minutes. You saw how she was with Carl man. How could anyone forget that! She fucks like a god-damned rabbit."
As the knowledge dawned on her that attempts to escape were doomed to failure, Carl's words came back to the trembling teen-ager, "Remember . .. relax." Even though she hated the thought of it, Coralee was afraid that these two awful men would hurt her if she continued to resist them, so she made an attempt to be calm. She had read once about another girl who had fended off an attacker by remaining completely calm throughout the whole thing. She tried to turn her mind to something else, resist the moving finger probing in her vagina, the big hands at her breasts, beginning to hurt now. But it was impossible for it seemed as if Glenn had read her mind, and he viciously squeezed her erect little nipple between thumb and finger.
"NONONONONONONONONONO!" she screamed. "NO!" But still they continued. How long had they been at her. Time seemed to have stopped ... It was going to go on forever! In one night her defenseless body was being invaded by three different men! It was insane ... unbelievable! And yet it was true. The hand was playing in the brown-haired slit of her cunt, teasing and slithering across her tingling flesh, moving vigorously as if it had a life of its own. Her piteous cries echoed throughout the room, but she knew that no one would come to help her unless . . . there was the slim chance that Carl Ritchie would come back to save her ... "Carl!" she screamed . . . "Help me ... Darling ..." But now Glenn Morgan's hot demanding lips were on hers forcing her head back on the pillow. Stan Fiver stood up and pulled her legs about, opening them wide so that she was once more spread-eagled on the bed.
"Man . .. she's pretty! Maybe we should get her a contract," Stan said, gazing down in greedy anticipation at her succulent pink pussy flesh glistening by the light of the bedside lamp.
"No ..." Stan said, his voice thickened by lust... "No .. . Carl doesn't want her to go that route."
"Oh?" Stan thrust two fingers deep into the widely parted split of Carolee's wetly clasping cunt. "MMMMmmmmm!" he said. "She's special, eh?"
Glenn clasped his huge throbbing cock, pulling the thick foreskin up and down over the lust swollen head. Suddenly he groaned in lewd frustration.
"Stan ... let me get down there where you are," he said. "I gotta get inside that little cunt."
The agent moved aside. "It's real nice, baby . . . real nice!"
Coralee trembled. She had never been so vulnerable in her life. Glenn Morgan was kneeling now between her wide-splayed legs, his eyes glowing with a fierce desire. Something about the famous cowboy star made her realize that he wasn't going to be as gentle with her as the agent had been. He had a meaner, more sadistic appearance about him. He looked as if he could be vicious, would enjoy being vicious.
His hand darted forward, sliding easily into the wetly heated opening of her tightly clenched cunt, causing Coralee to moan as his long fingers searched way up inside her hotly burning pussy. Stan Fiver held her arms down and every now and then bent over to shove his tongue down her throat or to pinch her already sore nipples. His laughter echoed in her ears... while the obscene hand churned about inside her, roughly fingering the sensitive inner lining of her tight vaginal passage.
The naked teen-aged divorcee trembled involuntarily as the searching fingers sought out and brought to a tingling life all of her sensual nerve endings. Gradually a lewd hunger was growing in her loins, one that would not be denied! It was something that made her almost sick, disgusting and she knew she had to resist it. She had to, or she would never be able to look herself in the eye again. And yet... within the last two hours she had done things that in all her life she had never dreamed she would do. In a sense, she was really no longer the same person she was before.
Coralee tried still harder to resist the tantalizing fingers fucking in and out of her warmly tingling pussy, rotating and flicking like dragon wings inside her, but her body had its own undeniable hungers, making her moan in a new and unmistakable way. "I'm going to put my long hard prick in your sweet little cunt," Glenn whispered to her. And the obscene words only served to make her feel more shamelessly aroused. An odd masochism she never before realized existed within her made the whole scene become like an exciting erotic dream.
"Shit, honey, shake that tail," the cowboy star said as he felt the naked brunette begin to respond to his fingers.
"She's comin' around real nice ..." His other hand fondled his eagerly pulsing cock, stroking it to an ever greater hardness.
"What you need is a little more pecker, sweetie," he told her. And with that he moved up closer between her trembling thighs, positioning his thick rigid cock at the tight little entrance to her cunt. Ripples of unwanted pleasure raced through her as she visualized what it would look like to another person ... A nude young girl lying helpless on a big bed, being held down, forced to make love with two men at the same time. The salacious image suddenly revealed the smoldering need within her belly until her obscene desire became a raging inferno.
"Aaaaaaagh!" Coralee involuntarily sighed with pleasure that made her ashamed of the wanton sound of her own voice, as Glenn Morgan drove his hotly throbbing cock deep into her wetly quivering pussy. A sex-mad passion overwhelmed her as the cowboy star screwed into her gratefully receiving womb, and she began to buck and grind under him, fucking her tight young cunt back at him as though it were a yo-yo on the end of a string.
OH GOD! SHE WAS BEING MADE LOVE TO BY THE GREAT GLENN MORGAN! ... a man that thousands.. . maybe millions of women all over the world would give anything just to touch! Lewd excitement... built high as the actor's big rock-hard member pulsated like a heart far up inside her belly.
"Oh, yeah .. . you like it now, baby ... don't you... Old Glenn's gonna fuck the baby good .. . goooooood!"
"Wow!" Stan Fiver said in appreciation, letting go of Coralee's arms when he saw that it was no longer necessary to restrain her. "Wow! Look at the little bitch go!"
The nakedly writhing teen-ager hardly heard them talking .. . she just wanted the reality that beautifully hardened penis hitting at her cervix, pounding her into a windless oblivion. It was good ... so good, and she wanted it... she wanted it all. Something she had never dared admit to herself before . . . She actually wanted to be fucked! And to be fucked by Glenn Morgan ... that was even better.
"OOOOOOOOOOOOH!" She moaned, her almost virginal pussy aching from the work-out it had received from the two massive cocks that night. But the pain was only a booster to her desire, and she wanted him to fuck deeper ... deeper and faster!
"More," she mumbled incoherently, "fuck me harder!"
Suddenly, Glenn Morgan pulled out of her wetly clasping vaginal passage, and she felt herself being lifted. It seemed as if her naked young body was being tossed in the air, and then she found herself on her knees subserviently straddling the agent who was now lying on his back on the bed. Glenn Morgan had her by the waist and he was positioning her wetly gaping pussy over Stan's long erect cock as if she were a limp rag doll with no feeling of her own.
Then the cowboy put both of his big hands on her naked ass-cheeks and shoved down!
"AAAAAAAAaaaaaah!" Coralee cried as the long hard cock slid like a telephone pole up into her f o r e v e r - s t r e t c h e d cunt. "Oooooooooh .. . please ..." she whimpered helplessly as both men began pushing her up and down on Stan's lust-hardened shaft of male flesh.
"Oh ... no ... no ... " she cried . . . fighting off the orgasm that was already starting. She was being used like a thing, just as a sex object, like a whore ... like the whore she had become! She had no more personality and she could ... what was the the word ... relax ... yes ... at last she could relax. And then the ecstatic sensations washed over her in an inexhaustible tide of lewd pleasure.
"I ... I... I'M CUMMMMMMING!" she wailed to the ceiling ... "OOOOOH, IT'S GOOD! I'M CUMMMMINGGGGG! HARDER! Give it to me!"
"Damn! Here it comes, the whole bushel full, "Stan groaned as his searing sperm ejaculated deep up into Coralee's wildly convulsing cunt.
"Sweet Mother!" Glenn cried ... "Get her off... so I can get mine now!"
Once more the naked teen-aged girl's body was pulled up and over until she was on her back again. She opened her eyes which had been tightly shut as she went through the delicious throes of her climax and surprisingly saw Carl Ritchie smiling down at her.
"You did very well, my dear," he said, and before Coralee had time to respond, one of her legs was being pulled high in the air by Stan, while Carl was taking hold of the other .. . Her legs were pulled back so far that her knees were on both sides of her head. The young divorcee cried out with pain, but to no avail. .. she was held, completely defenseless, so that her wetly gleaming vaginal furrow was spread wide, fully exposed to the cowboy actor's hungry, sadistic vision.
"Hi there, little cunt," he said, "You're going to love this!"
And then he was fucking hard into her, his hips moving rapidly as it sawed his massively hardened penis in and out of her wetly dripping pussy. Coralee turned her head, looked gratefully up at her drama coach and groaned once more. She felt a wild uncontrollable pleasure where she had expected pain.
Carl Ritchie smiled down at her when she looked at him through her half-closed eyes. "Relax ..." he whispered ... "Relax!" On and on it went. When Glenn Morgan had cum, the drama coach immediately thrust his thick rigid penis into her insatiable little cunt. . . and then it was Stan Fiver fucking into her ... followed by Glenn Morgan again . .. until a merciful oblivion overtook her.
The last words she heard were Glenn Morgan's: "Welcome to Hollywood, baby! You're obviously going places ..."
CHAPTER EIGHT
Coralee walked - the way she had been taught to walk - across the lawn toward the swimming pool where a sun-bronzed and surprisingly slimmed-down Harry Brodnik lay face-down with his arm across Elaine Crumpton's bikini-clad form.
"Hi, you all," the young girl said, in the pseudo-happy voice she had been taught to use.
"Coralee, darling," Elaine called in genuine pleasure and jumped up to embrace the girl. She held her out at arm's length and shook her head admiringly. "Golly! Is it the same Coralee Brodnik I brought home with me six months ago?"
The young brunette smiled - the way she had been taught to smile - and nodded. Nothing about her, including her eyes, revealed her secret thoughts. No, Elaine, I'm not the same girl. I'm something man-made, artificial, soon to be launched into orbit like a satellite so everyone can look up and see me. . . only it's not me they're seeing. The "me" you knew died on a mattress on my birthday.
Harry had climbed slowly to his feet. He nodded and smiled at her, then said her name. His voice was not quite as gruff as it had been six months before. He, too, had changed in a great many ways, and although there were some days when he missed the rough and tumble of his old life, by and far he was happier than he had ever been before. The thing he had first sensed about Elaine and himself had blossomed into damned near a high school love affair. And it had been the strawberry blonde widow who informed him his gasoline station was worth about $100,000 more than the $21,500 offered by the realtor Solly Cohen, who claimed he wanted to make a parking lot out of it for his son's cleaning establishment. Although Harry was pathetically eager to sign on the dotted line, a suspicious Elaine had spent less than five minutes on the telephone, making two calls, before she discovered that a twenty square-block area, including Harry's station, was being considered as a site for a new super shopping center. With the $125,000 Harry received for the sale of the station, he made a down payment on a run-down 50-unit apartment house in a good location on Hollywood Boulevard. Three months of back-breaking labor (which caused him to lose another twenty-five pounds), painting and landscaping and refurnishing the apartments, had resulted in the sale of the place and a net profit of $110,000. Now, with a quarter of a million in the bank, Harry was waiting for Elaine's guidance on his next investment.. . which undoubtedly would make him a millionaire.
Although Harry Brodnik's change was astonishing, Elaine's was even more so... in another way. She positively glowed and her body, which earlier could be described as "voluptuous" was now positively breathtaking. Elaine Crumpton obviously was content and happy for the first time in her life.
Coralee, with a wisdom that belied her years, took in the changes that had occurred with the two people. She instinctively realized what had happened: Elaine and Harry had found each other, had fallen in love, and were perfectly matched in spite of their differences. Elaine had always needed a man who was a real man, yet one who could be molded. Harry had always needed a feminine, desirable woman who found him irresistible. With this as a common base, the relationship grew and it would continue to grow.
The young actress felt a lump growing in her throat. She, herself, was close now to having everything she had ever wanted out of life: fame and success. Soon she was to get her first role in a motion picture, providing the producer liked her. It wouldn't be a large part, but it was an important one. She had already appeared in very minor roles, without lines, in a couple of television series. And yet, with the promise of this future in front of her, she felt an indefinable sadness, a certain longing and envy for what Elaine Crumpton had found ... and what she, herself, .would probably never have in her lifetime.
Coralee widened her eyes, as she had been taught to do, and her eyebrows raised as if in surprise. "I don't know what you mean. Nothing's wrong, Elaine."
The older woman inspected her closely, then said, "All right, darling." She glanced at Harry next to her who was dressed in a tight white pair of swimming trunks that emphasized the bulge of his genitals. Harry scratched his hairy chest and grinned almost bashfully.
"You want to tell her?" he growled.
"No, honey. You do it."
"Tell me what?" Coralee demanded, mystified at their coy behavior.
"We're going to get hitched," Harry said, glowering at her as if daring the young girl to say anything.
"Elaine!" Coralee squealed, genuinely surprised and happy for the attractive strawberry blonde. "Oh ... that's wonderful, really wonderful!" She impulsively put her arms around the older woman and kissed her cheek, then hugged the blushing Brodnik. "I think that's just great. It couldn't have happened to a nicer couple."
Elaine was positively bubbling. "We're buying a motel in Palm Springs. It's a hundred and fifty units, seven swimming pools ..."
"... and twenty-five wiggly little maids with cute little asses ..." Harry interrupted.
"Darling!" Elaine warned playfully. "If I catch you with your hand up under one of their skirts, you're going to find that I'm a real red-head."
Brodnik guffawed. "I already know that, babe. I been close enough to the honey pot to swear that you are."
"Harry Brodnik!" Elaine looked outraged, but Coralee could see the older woman and her ex-father-in-law were just teasing each other.
The three of them sat and talked animatedly for a few minutes, but the moment of their earlier closeness didn't return for the young girl felt as if she really didn't belong here with this man and woman who had a magic circle of contentment and happiness surrounding them.
She left a short time later and her last view of Elaine and Harry was of them embracing, with Harry hungrily running his big hands over the woman's naked back and the two of them laughing happily . .. like innocent children.
The young actress drove back to the drama academy not seeing the traffic or the curious stares of the other drivers who looked at the stunning brunette who undoubtedly was an actress of some sort. She drove automatically, spending her time trying to figure out why the lump in her throat was growing with each passing second.
In her room, she tried to watch the assigned television shows, but her attention kept wandering. Elaine and Harry were so happy together. That really was what life was all about, wasn't it? Happiness? Would it ever come to her... or was that the price she had paid for reaching out to the stars? She rather suspected she already knew the answer to that... but she didn't want to think about it.
Finally, in desperation, Coralee shut off the television set and got ready for bed. Two hours later she was still tossing, unable to go to sleep.
When she knew oblivion wasn't going to come by itself, the young girl went to the medicine cabinet, took down the bottle of sleeping pills, and swallowed two of them.
It was the third time that week that the pills had been necessary...
CHAPTER NINE
Coralee slept late the next morning and in her drugged state she didn't hear her door open or the two people enter her bedroom.
"Coralee," Carl Ritchie called softly. "Are you awake?"
The teen-aged actress tried to climb out of the deep web of drug-induced sleep, but all she was able to do was stir and mumble.
"She is very lovely, Carl," a surprisingly deep woman's voice said.
"Yes, she is." He paused, then continued. "She's completely innocent so far as your type of thing is concerned, Millie."
The small mannish woman with the short-cut blonde hair stared down at the sleeping girl and licked her lips hungrily. "She's lovely," Millie van Hyatt repeated, her eyes glowing with a strange fire.
"She might not react the way you hope," Carl Ritchie warned. "She seems to like males."
"I'm not worried. She and I will become very good friends. Ill see she gets all the newspaper coverage she wants."
Carl Ritchie held up his hands and shrugged. "That's all that matters. Well... I guess I'll leave you two love birds alone."
"Yes, please do," Millie replied, already beginning to remove her coat. The older woman waited until she heard the drama coach leaving the room, then walked quickly to the door and snapped the lock. She was smiling with a wanton hunger as she slowly went back toward the sleeping girl.
With trembling fingers, the female newspaper columnist unbuttoned her blouse and then unzipped her skirt. A moment later, her nylon hosiery joined her other clothes in a heap on the floor. When she climbed up on the bed and lay down next to the teen-aged brunette, she was dressed only in her brassiere and blue silk panties.
Gently, with fingers as soft as a down feather, she began caressing the girl...
Coralee in her half-awakened state felt the gentle caresses moving across her forehead and face. She moaned deep in her throat. The touch was so tender, it felt so wonderful. Perhaps, she thought sleepily, it's Carl Ritchie who has finally decided he really loves me and wants me only for himself from now on.
"Carl... ?" she asked without opening her eyes.
The only response was a light kiss from some incredibly soft lips on her mouth.
Coralee turned her head toward the side. "Is that you, darling?"
Suddenly, as her other senses began to awaken, Coralee could smell the undeniable odor of an expensive perfume. The person caressing her was a woman!
Abruptly, Coralee was wide awake. She sat bolt upright in bed and then stifled a little scream as she saw the almost nude figure of a petite older blonde woman about 35.
"Wh ... who are you?" Coralee demanded. "What are you doing here?" Then her eyes widened in amazement as she recognized the woman. "Millie van Hyatt!"
"Yes, darling," the newspaperwoman purred. "I'm here to interview you. Just think . .. your picture is going to be in two hundred and eighteen newspapers in America and Canada. You're going to be so famous... after the interview. But first, we must get to know each other better."
Coralee looked frantically around the room, and for a second it appeared she was about to dart out of bed.
Millie pushed her gently back against the pillow. "It's all right. Carl let me in."
"Carl? Let you in?"
"Yes, darling. He, too, feels we should get to know each other better ... much better. Oh, we're going to be such good friends ... and I'll be able to help you so much."
The room was swirling around the frightened teen-ager as the older woman once again reached out and stroked her long brown hair. Oh God! The young girl knew exactly what Millie van Hyatt was - a lesbian! Everyone in Hollywood knew that. And now, here the notorious newspaperwoman was in her bedroom, with her clothes off.
And to make things worse, Coralee had slept in the nude.
"Don't be frightened, darling," Millie crooned. "I'm going to be so good to you ..." Her hand slid forward to the petrified young girl's forehead and her fingers began a slow teasing rotation that was both relaxing and exciting at the same time.
"I... I... don't want you to touch me," Coralee panted.
"Nonsense. You don't know what a wonderful treat you have in store for you."
The light touch of the older woman's fingers moved away from her forehead - moved to trace along the line of her cheek and then down along her throat and onto the bold line formed by her full heaving breasts . . .
"N-No . . . please . . . don't..." Coralee choked out. She couldn't believe what was happening to her.
Then Millie was lying full-length on the bed beside her. The teen-ager turned, trying to slither to the other side of the bed to escape. She couldn't... she just couldn't let this happen to her!
Female arms captured her, held her, and a hand was running shiveringly down her back to her waist, continuing on down over her ripely contoured hips and buttocks. Millie's throaty voice was in her ear. "Don't fight it.. . Coralee, darling ... I'll make it good for you!"
"But, I - I don't want to be . . . like this."
The newspaperwoman's hand soothed her. And wondrously the gentleness of the knowing caress somehow felt good, so restful, tingly, nice. There was no animalistic pawing and kneading. All she felt was the electric-like contact of Millie van Hyatt's stroking fingers and the curling of the woman's body tight against hers, the brassiere-encased breasts pressing into her naked back, the warmth of a belly in close contact with hers, all the way down to her heated pussy-mound. Then, a tiny, well-manicured hand worked its way over her rib cage until it clasped her already tingling breast with gentle knowledge, working at the coral-hued nipple, causing it to rise hard and sensate.
There was now in Coralee a growing desire, and she was fully aware of what was happening to her. It felt too good - but her reasoning mind could not allow it to happen!
Her cry was muffled, strangling in her throat as she attempted once again to rise, to leave that bed. She just couldn't stay there! "No... I can't do it... I can't let this ... happen ...."
"Hush, darling," Millie whispered hoarsely in her ear. "Let me show you what you've been missing!"
The older, more experienced blonde turned the young brunette to face her, clamping her own lithe body to Coralee's, her full generous breasts mashed tight to the girl's naked sensitive mounds, her salacious mouth seeking and finding the make-up free mouth, pressing against her lips in a passionate kiss, her tongue sliding out, slowly, gradually, to twirl in sensuous circles, rimming her lips with sensation-producing lubricity, without undue demand. Meanwhile her hands busily tantalized Coralee's luscious body, playing over her perfectly sculpted contours like a swarm of hungry insects to transmit her own fiery need, causing uncontrollable, slashing urges to sear deeply through the teen-aged girl's already aroused loins.
Coralee had never received such a kiss from a woman before, and at first contact, she had felt revulsion and loathing. But after several pounding heart-beats she responded. She began to feel a certain thrill of her own, generated by the femaleness of the other woman's body. Tentatively, she put forth a timid hand and felt a bare shoulder. Millie, feeling the touch, quickly reached in back of her to unhook the clasps of her brassiere, releasing the full abundance of her velvety smooth, shapely breasts.
"Here, honey, feel this," the newspaperwoman crooned.
Hesitant, but unable to resist, Coralee reached out to touch and fondle the other woman's passionately heaving breasts, watching spellbound as the nipples coned to pert erection. She felt a shudder pass through Millie's body and she realized that her timid caress had been the cause of it. A weak sigh keened through the older woman and Coralee realized she, too, felt exactly the same thing ... in the same way.
With a trembling moan, Coralee sought the newspaperwoman's mouth. Their lips welded together, tongues moving in and out hungrily as hands were busy on each other's naked bodies -Millie's with sure knowledge of experience, Coralee experimenting, exploring here and there as the fires in her continuously aroused loins raged higher and higher.
The beautiful young brunette moaned with a complete helplessness, groaning in utter despair as she tried once more to fight against her feral depraved cravings with rational thought. She broke the moist contact of their mouths, pulling away and muttering across the short intervening distance, trying not to look into the smoldering eyes of the other woman.
"I've never done this before," she gasped hesitantly.
"Yes, I know, darling. And I'm going to make it so good for you."
Suddenly Millie sat up and quickly stripped herself of her remaining clothing. "There, that's better!"
Almost savagely then, the naked blonde lesbian turned to recapture the trembling young girl's mouth, her naked upper leg moving in between the teen-ager's long tapering thighs, spreading them until their legs intertwined and their vaginal mounds met and mingled, the two contrasting colors nestling close, the brown pussy "vee" grinding in against the blonde one with animalistic abandon.
Reaching over boldly, Millie pulled the rounded fullness of Coralee's quivering white buttocks in tight. Her hand moved down between their bellies, and without hesitation she dipped her forefinger into the moistly aroused opening. She found it amply lubricated, telltale evidence of the teen-ager's arousal. Then the finger moved on to find the erect unhooded clitoris. It was hard, throbbing and taut, and Millie began to stroke it, ever so gently, stoking the fires of both of their passions to white-hot heat.
Coralee felt the newspaperwoman begin to move, slithering down her body, rolling her gently to her back, her hot mouth busy as she kissed her passionately throbbing breasts then began to suck them, moving the nipples in and out of her mouth quickly, while she maintained a constant exciting sucking pressure. The highly erotic sensations keened through the younger woman, flashing through her with merciless insistence. Against her will, helpless to control them, the girl's hips began to move up and down in a steady countering rhythm to the sinuous stroking finger.. . and she knew she was lost, that she had succumbed... just as she had surrendered to every man who had laid a hand on her.
"Oh... God!" she shuddered helplessly.
Now she felt those avid woman's lips moving down, down, over her ribs, down across her flat belly, the agile tongue dipping into her navel, tantalizingly ... and then the gentle insistent hands spreading her thighs, exposing her palpitatingly needful cunt to the other woman's lewd gaze. She was acutely aware that Millie's face was peering between her widespread thighs and that those knowing hands were moving on the smooth, softly velvet flesh of her defenseless pussy.
Then that deliriously hot mouth was kissing her thighs, her hips, her abdomen, the inner sides of her thighs, gradually working up to her heatedly pulsating cunt. It drove Coralee wild with feverish anticipation. She knew now it would happen, and she was powerless to stop it.
And just before Millie's hungry mouth reached that seat of eternal fire, a disquieting thought charged through Coralee's mind: Somehow, she knew in that instant, she would be changed, transformed ... that the act she now so desperately wanted, even though she knew in her rational mind that it was wrong, would be another turning point in her life. In the consummation of that act, she would become the kind of woman Millie was. A woman who was a prey of men ... and other women. A woman of insatiable dimensions... a sex object!
Then it was there! Millie's probing, licking, hotly tantalizing tongue was there... on her clitoris, sending the most wonderfully erotic sensations to her brain, and Coralee knew that there was never in this world a more rapturous ecstasy. But again her indoctrinated brain, loaded with its moralizing, its taboos, and its fears, interfered. "No! Please ... no! Oh, God!" she cried out.
The working mouth paused. But she didn't want it to stop. Words came to her as from a distance. She heard, but did not hear, as her senses reeled. It was Millie's voice from down there, between her legs. "Relax, darling. Enjoy! Enjoy!"
"I can't. I can't let you!" the teen-ager whined. "It's wrong! Unnatural!"
"But you like it!" Millie countered, speaking absolute truth. And again she dropped her heated mouth to the seething flesh of the younger woman's pulsing cunt, her tongue probing this time into the heated liquid depths, searing into the clutching cuntal opening, moving in then out to a fucking rhythm already set by Coralee's spasmodically grinding hips. The swooping tongue flicked in and out with the measured regularity of a tiny cock.
The young girl could stand it no longer. She had to have it. If she didn't cum, she'd go mad. Throwing all reason to the winds, conscious only of the electric-like sensations that arced in her naked upturned loins, she cried out depravedly, "Oh . .. yesss! Oh, God ... yessssssss!"
The lustfully lapping mouth paused. "What do you want, honey? Do you want me to keep this up until you cum?" Millie asked her.
"Yesssssssss!"
"I've got a better idea, honey. We'll cum together!"
"How? Tell me how?" Coralee was getting desperate.
"You just do to me what I've been doing to you. That's all there is to it!"
Swiftly, lithely, Millie shifted her position, swinging herself around to straddle Coralee's face, her own head falling into place naturally over the tender loins of the young, chestnut-haired beauty she was seducing.
Startled, Coralee looked up and saw the wetly glistening pink flesh of Millie's hair-lined cunt hovering scant inches above her face, the brown puckered ring of her tiny anus winking down at her. She knew what she must do, what she had to do! But her whole being rejected it! Oh, God! How did I ever get myself into this?
With a swivel-hipped, wanton wriggle, the older woman's warmly perfumed pussy came writhing down against Coralee's face.
The teen-ager's first impulse was to scream; she felt suffocated . .. trapped, but the contact of the experienced woman's tongue with the quivering bud of her own clitoris elicited a long moan of sexual surrender from deep in her chest. She gasped, her mouth gaped open, and instinctively her face nuzzled up into the moist female furrow above her. Unthinking, her tongue slithered out, probing experimentally, and found the tiny shaft in its fold of hair-rimmed blood-engorged flesh.
To her surprise, the slightly pungent flavor of the newspaperwoman's pussy was not at all distasteful, and she quickly became more bold, more dexterous, licking, then sucking, following the example Millie had given her. Occasionally, she stabbed her quivering tongue directly up into the wetly clutching vaginal opening. Finally she established a lewd rhythmic movement to match that of the tongue licking and sucking her own wildly ecstatic cunt.
Together then they began to spiral, mounting higher and higher toward the heights of soaring orgasmic release, tongues licking and slashing in and out of the hotly throbbing cunts, hands grasping ass-cheeks, mouths gasping out little mewls and groans of mutual lesbian ecstasy.
Thus intertwined, head to loins, mutually giving and receiving exquisitely erotic sensations, the two women came to the apogee of sexual climax.
It began for Coralee first - a long shuddering convulsion of her body causing her to jerk spasmodically upward with wave after surging wave of welcome orgasm spreading throughout her fire-possessed body. It was a symphonic rhapsody of sensations that swept over her, through her, leaving her satiated, spent. Little did she recognize that it had been her own voice moaning "AAAaaauuuggghhh! Oh, God! I'mmmmmmm cuuummmmmmiinnnnggggg!"
Meanwhile, above her, Millie van Hyatt continued to thrust her loins down into the younger woman's face with wild abandon. Then she, too, arrived at that exquisite moment of rapture. "Oh! Oh! OOoohh! I'm cummmming! It's almost here! AAAAAaaauuuggghhhhhhh!"
"Oh, that was heavenly. Super!" Millie gasped.
Coralee could only moan in half-conscious agreement. She could only crawl around on the bed and offer her lips to the other woman again, clinging to her, confused but sexually satisfied. It was strange but true and, for the moment, she didn't question it.
But her ideas of sexual satisfaction, as it turned out, were nothing compared to the greed - that was the only word for it, she decided - of the lesbian newspaperwoman.
After a very few moments, the blonde had got up from the bed, delved into her purse and returned with a vibrator. The device looked like a long slender penis without a tip on it. Millie switched it on, then, smiling down at Coralee, said, "And, now for a taste of something different. I'm going to give you a massage!"
"MMmmnn, that'll feel nice," the teen-ager murmured languidly.
"Nicer than you think, darling!" There was a certain lewdness in Millie's smile that the girl didn't catch.
It was not until the vibrating cock began to move exhilaratingly over her abdomen that Coralee began to have the faintest inkling of how the vibrator worked, of the powerful effect it would have on her. She wanted to object, but then it was teasing at her recently sated cunt, the oscillating vibrations transmitting renewed sensations of pleasure through her belly as Millie expertly manipulated her instantly hard clitoris.
"Oh, my God! My Godddddddd!" Coralee moaned as she came to another soaring climax within a few short moments. She felt completely helpless to stop the action ... or her reaction. It was marvelous, and she spiral ed and soared to another orgasm, and another, and still another!
After a brief pause it was Coralee's turn to do the honors, and she watched in amazement as the blonde lesbian writhed in sexual agony, until she, too, came and came and came, mouthing obscenities as she climaxed almost endlessly.
It was mid-afternoon when the newspaperwoman left, leaving behind her a completely exhausted, thoroughly confused young girl...
CHAPTER TEN
Coralee knew she should be nervous, but she wasn't. There was a numbness and sureness about her, as if she had already peered into the future and knew exactly what was going to happen. The word "excitement" didn't exist in her vocabulary any longer.
The unusually calm Carl Ritchie was on edge, however, and he nervously paced up and down in the waiting room of J. Milton Glauberg, president of CMP Motion Pictures.
"You know how important this is, don't you?" he asked Coralee for the third time.
"Yes, darling Carl. It's very important, for both of us."
"I can't understand what's holding him up. The press conference is scheduled in fifteen minutes. I saw Glenn Morgan drive by just a few minutes ago heading toward the reception room."
"Relax," the brunette actress said. "Relax ..."
Carl stiffened as Mr. Glauberg's personal secretary appeared at the door. "Mr. Glauberg will see you now," she said, smiling in appreciation at the young girl.
"Fine . .. just fine," Carl said, walking toward the door.
The secretary lifted her eyebrows. "Not you, Mr. Ritchie. He wants to see your client . . . alone . . . before the press conference."
"But I... I... ," Ritchie sputtered.
"Alone."
Coralee smiled - the way she had been taught to smile. "It'll be all right, Carl." Then she was walking - the way she had been taught to walk - across the room, toward the door. Carl watched her move - the way she had been taught to move. My God, she was as close to perfection as any team of men could make a woman become. He could tell by the way her hips swayed and the way the tightly clinging dress hugged her ass-cheeks that she was wearing her sheerest thin nylon panties today. She was a completely new person from that frightened little teenager he had taken under his wing a year ago. And now, six months to a year ahead of his schedule, she was being touted as the new sex symbol of Hollywood.
The press conference, due to be held now in eight minutes, would announce to the world the signing of Miss Lee Wilson (nee Coralee Brodnik) as co-starring with Glenn Morgan in her first major role.
In a way, Ritchie felt a bit of sadness. She would be going out of his life soon, he knew. There would be newer girls and younger girls, but he seriously doubted there would be another one quite like Coralee - so innocent, so sexually enthusiastic ...
The door closed behind her.
Coralee followed the secretary down a long shadowy corridor to a huge oak door that bore the gold nameplate J.M.GLAUBERG. The secretary knocked, then opened the portal and ushered the young actress in.
"Miss Wilson, Mr. Glauberg." And then she left, discretely closing the door behind her.
J. Milton Glauberg was a small thin man, about sixty years old, with impeccably groomed hair, a $900 suit, and exuding wealth. He stood and came around from behind his desk. Even though he was wearing elevator shoes, he was still smaller than Coralee.
"I'm very glad to finally meet you, Miss Wilson," he said, holding out his hand. "I've heard a great deal about you."
"Thank you," she said, smiling the way she had been taught to smile.
The little man inspected her lushly ripened figure and nodded in appreciation. "Very nice indeed." He sighed. "Well, we don't have much time. Come over to the desk here and bend over, will you?"
Mystified, Coralee walked to the huge desk and stood, not really certain of what what expected of her.
"Bend over forward," Glauberg said, pushing down on her shoulder so that she bent at the waist. "Yes ... like that."
Some of Coralee's poise began to evaporate and she felt her face flushing with embarrassment as she did as he instructed. What could Mr. Glauberg have in mind? Good heavens, it was only five or six minutes before the press conference was supposed to start. What did he want of her?
A moment later she gasped as she felt the hem of her skirt being raised and bunched around her waist. She started to turn and raise upright, but Glauberg's voice stopped her. "Stay as you are, Miss Wilson." She heard him swallow loudly.
J. Milton Glauberg looked at the young girl bending over his desk, her smoothly rounded young ass-cheeks were the most sensuous and delectable he had seen in years . . . and he had seen quite a few. With a sigh of appreciation, he reached out and caressed the warm, softly resilient flesh, and then smiled as he heard her low moan.
Slowly, almost reverently, he bent down and kissed her naked flesh through her soft silken panties. A moment later, he knelt behind her and began lavishing wet kisses up and down the back of her trembling thighs. He could smell her perfume now, the faint, sensuous odor of her femininity, and the aroma made his burgeoning penis grow longer and harder in anticipation. Carl Ritchie had promised him that she was inexperienced at taking it from behind . .. well, within the next five minutes she would feel a man's hotly throbbing cock slowly slipping up inside that tight, snooty little rectal passage of hers for the first time . . . and he would make her enjoy it.
"Has anyone ever fucked you in the asshole?" he asked grinning lewdly down at the nylon clad smoothness of her otherwise naked young buttocks.
Shocked by the bluntness of the question, she could only nod, her answer coming in short measured gasps.
"My husband t-tried once, w-when he was drunk." She wanted to pull away but seemed to be without strength. Somehow, being held with his hands dipping into her hips felt good, and God knew she had never had anyone to pour out the terrible story to. She let her pliant young body relax over the desk and began to talk saying the things she had wanted to say to her husband so long ago but had not been given the chance. She didn't object to his hands as they moved beneath her and cupped her breasts and without protest allowed him to massage her nipples into a strange exciting hardness. Then one of his hands was sliding down over the hot roundness of her buttocks, where the scanty white nylon panties barely concealed the cheeks of her ass. Behind her she could feel his cock long and hard and thick through his pants. She moaned and squirmed as his fingers slipped teasingly beneath the elastic waistband of her panties sliding into the soft resilient crevice of her asscheeks, rubbing and spreading them. "Oooooooohhhhhh! ... Nooooooooo! ... " Coralee moaned softly.
"You poor kid," Glauberg said, grinning down beneath her openly pulled panties, "I bet he hurt you like hell."
"It hurt terribly ... the way he just tried to force himself up in me."
"Not like this, I bet... " His outstretched middle finger teased in a small slow circle around her tightly puckered anus. She tried to close against it but it relentlessly stretched the delicate flesh, and suddenly was up inside her, the first knuckle, rotating slowly. She felt her anus gradually accepting it. She gasped and squirmed and then felt it slip deeply up into the hot tightness of her anal channel. Unconsciously she moved, letting her tightly clamped rectal walls relax and spread slightly. The young girl did not resist as he turned her face partially toward him and kissed her parted lips, sliding his tongue between them. At the intrusion, she began to suck it as she had sucked cocks, and her breathing became uneven, aroused. A wave of desire swept through her lush young body, and she was conscious that he said "This feels good, doesn't it?"
"Mmmmmmmm ..." Coralee mumbled. She ground herself back on the lewdly impaling finger as it began to fuck in and out of her tightly clenching anal passages. She grunted as the second finger moved up deep inside her. And the two began to rotate, stretching her wide up inside. She wanted to scream out and stop this obscenity, but she couldn't move, except to squirm. "Oooooooohhhhh! God!!!"
"Did he bend you over and hold you down and just try to ram his prick into you?"
"Yes ..."
Ashamed of the memory and what had happened with her husband so many eons ago, she could hardly whisper the word.
"Come with me," the older man said, his voice hypnotic.
Coralee knew what was going to happen to her but she was powerless to protest. Docilely, with his fingers still buried deep up in her rectum she allowed herself to be guided to a huge leather covered chair. She felt his free hand ripping away her flimsy panties. Tears began to come and she whispered, "Please don't do it to me back there ... let me suck you, or .. .."
"You'll like it," Glauberg grinned. "Bend over the back of the chair, knees wide apart and keep that beautiful little ass raised straight up in the air."
"Oooooooohhhhhh..." Coralee moaned. But prodded by his two fingers still hooked tightly up in her anus she complied, positioning herself in a way she had never thought possible. She closed her eyes, humiliated, awaiting the terrible pain - and realized that when her husband had forced himself halfway up inside her it had begun to feel good just before she had wrenched away from him. She heard the vulgar sound of pants dropping to the floor as Glauberg pressed up behind her, felt his hairy legs spreading her soft tanned thighs even wider, and his fingers stretching her anus wider still. And then, horrified, she heard herself hiss back at him, "Yessssssss . . . Put it in!"
With a soft wet sucking sound his deeply imbedded fingers slipped from her rectal passage and seconds later she felt the hotly throbbing tip of his cock at her already widely stretched anus and his thumbs were spreading her trembling ass cheeks even wider. She grunted as the smooth bulbous head pressed menacingly against her tender flesh and then his fingers were kneading her hips and pulling her relentlessly back to him.
"Aaaaaauuuuuggggghhhhh! ..: " .Coralee gasped in pain as her widely split sphincter ring yielded and his massive cock head popped cork-like up inside her. She squirmed her nakedly gleaming buttocks around wildly trying to dislodge his pulsating thickness, but the movement only served to aid his deeper entry. "My God it is so big!"
"You haven't felt anything yet baby! Swing your hot little tail around."
When she didn't move he slapped her hard across her fearfully quivering buttocks with the flat of his hand. Coralee cried out and jerked up and his long thick cock sank several inches into her vainly straining rectal opening. Then he flexed his lust-hardened shaft and waited, listening to her soft helpless whimpers of pain, and after a minute knew she had relaxed and was ready for more. Slowly he began to fuck in and out of her, each stroke pulling pale pink flesh with it, then pushing it back in. Now she was moving her buttocks willingly with him, arching her back, thrusting a little to match his strokes. "You're built for ass-fucking!"
"Uuugggghhh!" Coralee grunted. It felt like a tree was growing in her rectum, but the pain was being replaced, as he had promised, with pleasure. Suddenly she wanted all of it, NOW, no matter how it might hurt! Obscenely, she waved her nakedly upthrust buttocks and reached back to pull the cheeks as far apart as possible, until her flesh was stretched drum-tight. "Fuck in! Fuck all the way in my ass!"
Grasping her around the soft curve of her belly, Glauberg rammed forward with all his strength. His thickened cock plunged deep up into the spongy heated rectum, sending waves of flesh ahead of it, until his balls slapped against her taut-spread ass cheeks and the lust-swollen lips of her tight young cunt.
"EEEEEEEyyyyyyyaaaaaaahhhhhh!!!" the young girl cried out. The pain shocked her to immobility for a moment, and then, determined to overcome it, she began to fuck back insanely, driving him deeper and deeper up into her shamelessly aroused body. She rocked from side to side and rotated her hips in a salacious spectacle of pure wantonness. "Fuck, oh, fuck, flick, fuck, meeeee!!"
Eagerly he began to fuck in and out of her, the formidable hard mass of his penis pistoning into her softly yielding flesh. With each reaming stroke, Coralee grunted in pain-pleasure. She gasped in ecstasy as she felt his heavy, sperm-loaded balls slapping wetly down against the swollen, distended lips of her pussy, making solid contact with the elongated button of her clitoris. If only my husband had done it like this! she thought as her internal muscles began to milk him furiously.
And, it seemed in only minutes, she was climaxing. She fucked back so furiously that Glauberg could hardly keep his long rod of flesh in her thrashing anus. He dropped his weight on the writhing young actress and held her down, thrusting deeper and deeper into her straining young body, spreading her legs so wide they hung on either side of the chair back.
"Oooooooohhhhh ... now ... now ... I'm cummmmmmmiiiiinnnnnggggg!!"
Coralee's savage response triggered his own. He felt his cum-filled balls burning with need, and then the great gushing of sperm down the length of this thick impaling cock, and jets of it were spraying up into the tightly clasping depths of her rectal passage. Her magnificent ass-cheeks were trembling as if she were getting a strong electrical shock.
They lay locked together, their bodies convulsing, as his hot churning cum filled her anal channel and began to seep around the thick base of his staff and down into the softly curling strands of her naked young pussy below.
Coralee flexed her ass-cheeks, holding his still hotly squirting penis far up inside her rectal depths, milking him mercilessly until finally, after a long while, he was too soft to feel anymore.
Coralee felt momentary shame and then behind her, she could feel Glauberg lifting from her exhausted body, his cock slipping from her forever stretched young rectum with a lewd wet popping sound. She could hear him chuckle lewdly to himself behind her and picking his pants up off the floor, plod silently away.
Glauberg disappeared into his private toilet and there was the sound of running water. Coralee stood there, panting and trembling, feeling his heated sperm slowly trickling down the insides of her thighs. She looked around the room, not really seeing it, looking for something that she vaguely realized didn't exist any longer. He had hurt her, and she was experiencing pain now from her ravished rectal passage. She wanted to cry, but she knew there would never again be tears - except in front of a camera. That part of her, that thing called innocence, had died.
The little movie producer came out of his toilet, all business now and looking as if absolutely nothing had happened.
"That wasn't bad for a beginner, but you'd better comb your hair now," he said.
Coralee walked across the room - the way she had been taught to walk - and went into the luxuriously furnished bathroom. She ran the comb through her hair - the way she had been taught to comb herself - and used a monogrammed towel to wipe away the excess semen still trickling wetly out of her still softly pulsating anus.
As soon as she returned, Glauberg led her to the door and outside to the long corridor.
The new actress walked beside him, past door after door. Neither said a word until they reached the reception auditorium where a uniformed guard saluted Mr. Glauberg and then ceremoniously opened both doors.
A hundred faces stared out at Coralee, but she saw none of them. She smiled as she had been taught to smile, then walked into the room - the way she had been taught to walk - and bowed graciously as she heard J. Milton Glauberg announce, "Ladies and gentlemen of the press. CMP is proud to present their newest star, Miss Lee Wilson, whom you will soon be seeing in our new film "Joan D'Arc. " The applause came up and inundated Coralee, and although she smiled and nodded and did all the very right things, she was - oddly enough - thinking of Elaine and Harry Brodnik playing like happy bears in the sun and laughing and in love...
