It would be easy enough to introduce Authoress Suzanne Mellows' latest novel as a savagely incisive satire on American morals and manners, but somehow this sterile definition misses all the rollicking good humor and rich sensuality which characterizes this hilarious book.
The story concerns a wealthy and eccentric Scottish-American who is trying desperately to produce an heir for his enormous fortune. Then his lawyer and his stockbroker both get into the act, competing with each other to be first with the fetus. Comic and moderately improbable characters stalk through the pages of the novel in legions: the only woman to have been elected Miss Sweden twice competes with Maxwell, a three hundred pound Galapagos turtle for a place in our memory, and Billie Joe Saunders, the bantam-weight rapist from Dixie, who is tragically eaten (in a strict digestive sense of the word) by Homer, a twenty-five foot python from the Amazon valley, not to be confused with Xenophon Pericledes, a Greek reptile expert who finds himself in the wrong track (shall we say) at a crucial moment while attempting to impregnate Lucy MacTarmack, who is the Curator of Reptiles at the Municipal Zoo. Are we clear so far?
Since it takes Miss Mellows a whole novel to tell her story, perhaps we should not even attempt to summarize it in a brief introduction. It is rather the task of the publishers to take the long, considered, critical view of this novel, pointing out to the reader elements like the literary symbolism involved in the relationship between Marge, the girl in Luther MacTarmack's sleeping bag who fails to get pregnant because of what can only be viewed as a grievous defect in her moral character, and Wayne Brooksmith, the English sex criminal, who fails to impregnate Miss MacTarmack because of Homer's timely intervention. Furthermore, some serious thought must certainly be given to the theory of Wild Bill MacTarmack's that artificial insemination is a vile Communist plot, offering some reasoned speculation on what may or may not have happened to Miss Sweden when she disappeared into the sand trap on the thirteenth hole (of a golf course) with Mr. MacTarmack (Wild Bill, not Luther).
At the end of the book, our author leaves us with several serious and thought-provoking philosophical and ethical questions which fairly cry out for answers. Was Lucy morally justified in photographing Maxwell and Penelope while wearing only a towel? Is Wayne Brooksmith's umbrella a device for keeping out the rain, a phallic symbol, or a satire on the oddity of the British upper classes? Who is Buckminster Fuller, and why did Luther fail to lose his virginity with the Radcliffe girl? What did the Harvard Dean of Students do with the pound of hashish he found under Luther's bed? What are the three longest rivers in North America and how do they relate to Morris W. Morrisson's passion for Swedish chicken soup?
These are deep and murky waters, readers. Take notes as you go along, at least to keep track of the reptiles.
-The Publishers
CHAPTER ONE
AT THE MACTARMACK MANSION, FOUR P.M.
There were thirteen Cadillacs, four Lincolns and one snobbish Mercedes sitting in the carpark, low average according to Mr. MacTarmack's groundskeeper, but inside, the Mansion was a hive of well-ordered, quiet activity. Men in white coats bent over sophisticated control panels and whispered calm, measured instructions to neat, graceful women in white dresses who scurried silently back and forth in the command room. A computer hummed discreetly in one comer, green lights flashing once every two seconds as an attentive technician puzzled over the controls. Despite the quiet, there was a distinct buzz of tension in the air. The critical moment was approaching.
"I don't like the looks of these cardiograph readings," muttered MacTarmack's resident heart specialist. "Too damn much activity for a seventy-eight year old man."
"Give us another minute!" pleaded his resident urologist in hissed undertones. "We're close, man, close!" The world-famous gynecologist who was directing the operation wrinkled his brow as he studied an oscilloscope and nodded in agreement.
"I've got an orgasm on the screen in forty-five seconds," he said tersely. "Start the countdown!"
"Come on, Wild Bill!!!!" chorused several nurses enthusiastically.
A tall burly woman of about forty strode to the observation panel and looked into Mr. MacTarmack's bedroom, wrinkling her large red nose in distaste. Inside, there was a tall thin old man, obviously advanced in years but still well-muscled and rugged, making love to a full-breasted, twenty-five year old girl who was the only living woman to have won the Miss Sweden beauty competition twice.
There was a look of grim concentration on MacTarmack's wrinkled face, but the former Miss Sweden seemed to have lost what little there was of her mind. With her long, finely tapered legs wrapped eagerly around MacTarmack's muscular back, she was thrashing her loins wildly up against the old man's still-powerful penis, groaning and gasping, her ripe, sumptuous breasts crushing willingly against the white hairs on the millionaire's barrel chest. Both of the lovers were covered with electrodes and surrounded by mountains of instruments. There were yards and yards of wires running from their sweat-glistening bodies to the control booth where the medical men and technicians were awaiting anxiously for the orgasm which would carry the few surviving MacTarmack sperm into the young beauty queen's waiting womb.
"I think tha' wretched lass is doing it again," muttered Miss MacIntyre with her thick Scottish accent, still gazing unhappily through the control window. "If she kills my boss, she'll never win another beauty contest after I get through with her! "
"Right, the broad is cumming again," announced the computer technician as he checked his tapes. "That makes five."
"Well, I wish she'd call it quits," snarled the cardiologist in alarm. "I think she's slowing him down and I'm getting fibrillations on his left ventricle!"
"Poor chick can't help it," muttered the urologist to the gynecologist, lowering his voice to avoid offending Miss MacIntyre, the millionaire's private nurse, 'The old man's fucking her brains out! His damn cock must be made of steel!"
"I don't know why we can't use artificial insemination," responded the gynecologist, in a normal voice. "Ten minutes with a syringe, and I could impregnate dozens of women with his sperm. Even Miss MacIntyre!"
"I'll have you know, Doctor, that I'm a decent woman and... "
"Heartbeat, one hundred twenty! Respiration rate, forty per minute! Blood pressure... " the computer technician began to sing out.
"Ten seconds to orgasm and holding!" called the gynecologist excitedly, as he studied his instrument panel. "Gentlemen, this could be it!"
"Besides, Mr. MacTarmack thinks that artificial insemination is a communist plot "Quiet, woman!" shouted the gynecologist excitedly, turning a switch which automatically increased the adrenalin flow to MacTarmack's wildly pumping heart. "Another second... " An alarm bell suddenly rang, jarring everyone's nerves, and the heart specialist turned pale.
"Heart failure! Christ, his heart is spasming out of control!" screamed the cardiologist as the needle on his control mechanism soared into the red. "Stop him before he kills himself!"
"Oxygen!!!" screamed a technician as the room exploded into activity and the alarm bell continued to throb in their ears.
"Plan A-2!" screamed the cardiologist to whom command of the entire operation passed by pre-arrangement the moment the computer signaled the imminence of heart failure. "Battle stations, everyone!"
The interconnecting door to the bedroom door burst open with the cardiologist heading the attack with his hypodermic needle held high, like a cavalry officer leading a charge with his saber. Inside the room, MacTarmack's body was still jerking convulsively in the saddle of Miss Sweden's thighs, but his face had gone ashen gray, and he was gasping for breath.
"Un liddle more, Herr MacTarmack!" beseeched the Swedish beauty queen, trembling on the brink of her sixth orgasm and ignoring the babble and confusion around her. Desperately, she seized the millionaire's withered flanks, bucking and heaving frantically beneath him as she struggled to finish what he had started.
Quickly and efficiently, the team of physicians pulled MacTarmack's stricken body off the voluptuous form of the Swedish girl, and she lay gasping on her back, her thighs still immodestly spread apart, the tantalizing moist triangle of her throbbing pussy naked to every male eye in the room, no longer caring whether anyone looked at her or not. In fact, for the moment, no one did, since Mr. MacTarmack was worth just a fraction less than a quarter of a billion dollars alive, and he was very close to dying. Sweden produces a dozen beauty queens a year, but Scotland had produced only one Wild Bill MacTarmack in its entire history, and the assembled medical men were paid very well to keep him alive.
While the heart specialist was reviving the millionaire with oxygen, adrenalin, and heart massage, the urologist and the gynecologist turned their professional attention to the spectacularly well-developed body of the Swedish woman, carefully inserting a delicate instrument into the still moistly trembling channel of her vagina.
"Ah... dot feels gut!" she moaned, her hips still twitching convulsively as the gynecologist accidentally placed one thumb on the tiny pink pearl of her clitoris.
"Lie still, you bitch," muttered the doctor irritably.
"Anything?" prompted the urologist as his colleague crouched between the woman's lasciviously outstretched legs and peered through the view finder.
"Not a trace of semen. Heart kicked up on him just seconds before he would have cum.
Damn!"
"We'll have to go to artificial insemination," advised the urologist.
"Plot... directed by the Kremlin... weaken the species... " came a feeble voice from the other side of the bed.
"Please, Mr. MacTarmack," advised the cardiologist, breathing a sigh of relief as he saw that his patient was still alive enough to worry about Communist plots. "Rest now, and we can talk about it later."
"Did I... I... make it?" the old man's voice was weak and fluttering, but his iron will had not faltered.
" 'Fraid not, Mr. MacTarmack," confessed the gynecologist unhappily, noting that the great MacTarmack penis was still twitching restlessly. "Another minute and you would have been there."
"I am zo zorry," said the girl who had almost been the mother of MacTarmack's first child, taking one of the old man's hands and pressing it affectionately to the soft yielding mound of her right breast. "Next time, vee do better."
"There will be no next time," announced the cardiologist firmly, peeling Mr. MacTarmack's fingers off of the woman's succulent breast. "Another effort would almost certainly be fatal. My patient is seventy-eight years old!"
"No more sex?" moaned the millionaire. "Not for the rest of my life?"
"I'm afraid not, Sir. We all have to stop sometime," said the cardiologist gently. The heart specialist was forty-seven and had stopped in his late thirties. "The next time would certainly kill you."
"Und me? Vat becomes of me?" cried the girl unhappily, her mountainous breasts quivering with emotion as she thought about MacTarmack's promise to marry her if she succeeded in giving him an heir.
"Stop by my office on your way out, dear, and I'll give you your severance pay and your return ticket to Stockholm," promised the resident urologist, his hand resting casually on the vee-shaped triangle of her pussy. "Now, if you would please cover yourself, we don't want Mr. MacTarmack becoming excited again, do we?"
* * *
"Perhaps we could find a judge to declare him senile," suggested Morris W. Morrisson blandly as the door to Wild Bill MacTarmack's bedroom closed behind them. "After all, he's just had a heart attack, and we could play up that experiment with the Swedish girl... "
"Nothing senile about wanting to have an heir," retorted W. Scott McNalty with a frown, glancing suspiciously at the lawyer through his tri-focals. "He's continuing to manage his own stock portfolio, with my assistance, naturally, making sound and eminently sane investments. We of McNalty Economic Resources Incorporated would be obliged to testify against you."
"Oh, you would?" snapped Morrison nastily, running his fingers through his dramatic, steel gray hair. "And we of Morrisson, Redundant and Morrisson would be obliged to drag you into court and sue your corporate pants off! Don't think I don't know what you're up to, McNalty!"
The lawyer looked down contemptuously on the diminutive stockbroker and sneered as the other man nervously removed his thick glasses and polished them rapidly. In fact, each man knew precisely what the other was planning. Morrisson's legal firm had been battling with McNalty's investment corporation under the table for years now, each trying to become the sole agency for the handling of Mr. MacTarmack's affairs, and the canny old millionaire had contentedly watched the two corporations maul each other, certain that each was keeping the other honest. But this was a time for corporate guerrilla warfare and both McNalty and Morrisson knew it. MacTarmack had called them in to announce a revision of his will. Both men realized that the time had come for each of them to make a grab for the entire MacTarmack fortune, or lose control of it entirely.
"I don't know what you're talking about," McNalty said, his glasses steaming up again as he attempted to look indignant. "And I have to be getting back to my office now. The Tokyo Exchange is about to close."
Morrisson grunted noncommittally and the two men walked rapidly out of the mansion, McNalty scurrying ahead on his short bandy legs as Morris W. Morrisson walked along calmly behind him, sneering self-confidently. As Morrisson signaled to his chauffeur to bring the car up to the foot of the steps, McNalty ran quickly to the car park and flung himself behind the wheel of his Ferrari Dino convertible, quickly thrusting the key into the ignition and turning the motor over. It was still grinding furiously when Mr. Morrisson's new chauffeur politely opened the door for him.
"Back to my office," the lawyer said quickly. "Hmmmmm, my colleague McNalty seems to be having difficulty with his splendid little car."
"Dis vot you vant?" said Morris W. Morrisson's new chauffeur, handing him the distributor cap from a Ferrari Dino, over her shoulder as she drove the big car smoothly down the street. Morrison's new chauffeur was the only chauffeur in the world who had been elected Miss Sweden twice and Morrisson was very proud of her.
* * *
"Gentlemen, the corporate crisis we are facing today is the gravest since my great-grandfather, R. Spanniel Morrisson, founded this firm in the middle of the Revolutionary War! Not only are we fighting the sneaky and insidious maneuvers of McNalty and his crowd of low-minded money changers, but the legal situation with the will is very difficult. I don't know that it can successfully be overturned in a court of law, and I think we are going to have to live with it."
Morris W. Morrisson paused for effect, glancing over the assembled members of his corporate staff. His company was like a well-oiled machine, powerful, dependable, loyal... His men knew how much the MacTarmack business meant, and several of them turned white with the notion of losing it.
"The terms of the will are very specific," continued the lawyer. "Upon his death, the old man's entire fortune passes to whichever member of the MacTarmack Family has just produced an heir to continue the family name. If no one has produced an heir, the money goes to charity. Every last cent of it! Now, besides Wild Bill himself, there are only two living MacTarmack's, both distant cousins."
Here Morris W. Morrisson paused while the lights were extinguished and two slides were flashed side-by-side against the wall from twin projectors in the back of the boardroom.
"Here they are, the last of the MacTarmacks!" Morrisson returned to his lecture. "This rather attractive young woman is Lucy W. MacTarmack -- note the characteristic red hair -- the third cousin twice removed of Wild Bill's, and a resident of our fair city. There has never been any contact between Lucy and the old man, and the girl is probably unaware of their relationship. We have her name, address and complete file of background information."
Mr. Morrisson and his pointer moved over to the rather blurred image of an unusually hairy young man in the next slide, cleared his throat and continued. "This is an equally distant relation, Luther MacTarmack, about whom our files are considerably less up-to-date. We know that in the middle of his junior year he was expelled from Harvard, where he was studying engineering, for the crime of having been found with a Radcliffe girl and a pound of hashish in his room after visiting hours. At this time, he seems to have dropped out of society and disappeared. We haven't been able to find him, and it is hardly likely that anyone else will succeed where we have failed. Therefore, we must concentrate our corporate efforts, gentlemen, on Lucy. If this young woman produces a child, legitimate or illegitimate, boy or girl, before Wild Bill's death, she and the child inherit approximately a quarter of a billion dollars. I need hardly remind you that this company has come to depend heavily on the revenues we receive for helping to manage the MacTarmack fortune and if it passes out of our hands, we are, quite frankly, ruined. I believe I can depend on your support?"
There was a roar of corporate enthusiasm as Mr. Morrison skillfully brought the meeting to a close, passing out copies of his mimeographed game-plan for the impregnation of Lucy W. MacTarmack, issuing individual orders, slapping backs and shaking hands. The junior law clerk who had joined the firm only a few months before smiled bleakly at everyone in general and no one in particular and slipped from the room. He walked quietly out of the Morrisson offices, found the public telephone next to the elevator, and dialed a certain number.
"This is me," he said guardedly as the distinctive nasal voice of W. Scott McNalty came slithering over the wire.
"Right, what's happening?"
"They're going after Lucy."
"Ha! They've got their hands full with that vestal virgin. Do they know about Luther?" asked McNalty tersely.
"Yes, but they can't find him."
"Perfect."
There was a dull click on the line as McNalty hung up. The sallow-faced young man smiled confidently to himself and walked contentedly back to his office.
CHAPTER TWO
THE EMPLOYEE'S CAFETERIA OF THE MUNICIPAL ZOOLOGICAL GARDENS.
Dressed in slacks and a white blouse, Dr. Lucy W. MacTarmack, Assistant Curator of Reptiles, was quietly munching a peanut butter sandwich and glancing through a scientific article on the highly peculiar mating habits of the Testudo Gigantea, or Galapagos turtle. The Zoo was the possessor of two of these enormous creatures and Lucy was patiently trying to coax them into mating.
The Curator of the Monkey House, who had spent too many years with chimpanzees and was beginning to absorb some of their behavioral characteristics, was sitting at a nearby table with a number of his colleagues, strumming his guitar. With an impish glance at Lucy, he began to sing a song of his own composition.
"If you want to find a true romance,
Take this advice from me.
Stay far away from a woman in pants,
Or a gal with a PH.D."
Dr. MacTarmack glanced up in anger, her face turning as scarlet as her bright red hair, realizing that her male colleagues were once again indulging in their usual lunch-hour pastime of ridiculing her. The guitar was slightly out of tune, and the monkey-man's singing voice was no threat to Frank Sinatra, but the song had its desired effect and the cafeteria rocked with cruel laughter. Jamming the remnants of her peanut butter sandwich into a brown paper bag, Lucy snapped her book shut and jumped to her feet, her graceful, attractive features contorted into an angry grimace.
"Oh, I once loved a lady herpetologist,
Who worked at the city zoo... "
continued the Curator of the Monkey House lyrically, but Lucy was never to know where he had found a word to rhyme with 'herpetologist', since she stormed out of the cafeteria in a fiery rage, slamming the door explosively behind her to punctuate her displeasure.
Male Chauvinist Pig! she cursed mentally. Why can't they respect me for what I am, a scientist? No, to them women are all the same, stupid giddy creatures to be ordered around and drooled over, only good for the bedroom and the kitchen! Suppose I do wear pants! When was the last time anybody ever tried to force-feed a python in a miniskirt?
Still steaming with righteous indignation, the young redhead entered the Reptile Building where her supervisor, Dr. Mel Roberts, was sipping a cool beer behind his desk while he leafed through the most recent issue of the Herpetologists' Monthly Digest. He glanced at his assistant's angry features and understood the situation in an instant.
"Boys in the cafeteria getting to you again, Lucy?" he inquired kindly. Dr. Roberts was a calm, almost lethargic man in his fifties whose only two visible interests in life were reptiles and the cultivation of African violets. Lucy found him less than brilliant, but he was sympathetic to her Women's Liberation philosophy, and let her generally run the Reptile Building under his nonchalant supervision.
"Golly, a little, Dr. Roberts," she admitted, feeling a little sheepish about her wrath. "I guess they can't forgive me for being a woman."
"Well, now, why don't you take a nice shower and forget about it? Our friend Maxwell is looking very interested in Penelope, and today just could be the day. Are the cameras ready?"
Lucy instantly forgot her personal troubles. Maxwell and Penelope were both Galapagos turtles, each weighing about three hundred pounds. Maxwell had been practicing strict chastity for the past hundred and twenty-five years, but the two zoologists had noticed that he had seemed to be warming up to Penelope over the past twenty-four months. Turtles live a long time and they like to think things over for a decade or two before they make any rash moves, but Maxwell was still in the prime of life and if he decided to mate with Penelope, it would be the first time it had ever happened in captivity. At the moment, both turtles were sitting in a specially built cage in the corner of the office, gazing deeply and unblinkingly into one another's eyes. Turtles in fact, cannot blink since they have no eyelids, but somehow Lucy guessed that neither one of them would have blinked under the circumstances.
"Everything's ready," she assured him breathlessly. "I'll just take that shower and be right back!"
Dr. Roberts smiled peacefully and returned to the scholarly book he was reading, but only until his attractive assistant had disappeared into the bathroom. A shower stall was a necessity for the reptile house, since a few hours of handling snakes and lizards left one smelling a lot like a reptile, but for Dr. Roberts, the shower had one added attraction. He moved quickly to the corner of the office, lifted off a framed photograph of a Marine Iguana, (or Anblyrhynchus Cristatus, as it is known to specialists) and then carefully removed the heavy spike which held the picture to the wall. The result was a small but entirely adequate hole through which one could survey everything which took place in the shower room. After reptiles and African violets, watching Dr. Lucy MacTarmack take her showers was the major interest in Roberts' otherwise unexciting life.
The practice was a trifle on the sneaky side, but the Curator of Reptiles could hardly be blamed entirely, since one of the reasons the boys in the cafeteria could never forget that Lucy was a woman was the fact that she was the most womanly woman any of them had ever seen. Dr. Roberts' right eye widened with simple lust as he watched the girl stuff her long auburn hair into a shower cap, and then unbutton the buttons on her blouse. The girl had the voluptuous figure of a young Greek goddess -- despite her Scottish ancestry and the fact that Scottish mythology had never once produced a decent-looking goddess. Roberts never tired of the moment when Lucy slid her white blouse off her smooth, well tanned shoulders, hanging it neatly on a peg, and then leaned forward and reached around back to unfasten her brassiere. The girl's breasts were high-placed and temptingly rounded, and Roberts gulped in ecstasy as he watched the tiny, pinkish brown nipples pop forward eagerly as Lucy absentmindedly rubbed her hands across the fullness of her succulent young bosom. But the best was still to come. Sucking in her flat smooth stomach, the tantalizing redhead undid the buttons on her slacks and then bent over quickly, removing pants, and white nylon panties in one clean efficient motion. She was naked!
Roberts nearly whimpered with gratefulness as Lucy turned in his direction, affording him a delectable vision of all the sweet mysteries of her mouth-wateringly proportioned body. The soft curly pubic hair between her legs was sparse and only a little darker in tint than the auburn locks on her head, and the Reptile building's Peeping Tom could see the soft virginal lips of her pussy, glistening pinkly in their reddish fringe, as she leaned over and manipulated the faucet on the shower, selecting the proper water temperature before she immersed her lust-provoking form in the spray. God, he was thinking, what I'd give to be able to shove my...
Behind him, there was a low rumbling sound, the noise of violent activity in the turtle cage. Reluctantly, Roberts turned his head to see what Maxwell was up to. Why now? he was complaining, until he saw that Maxwell had climbed up with his powerful forelegs on Penelope's massive shell. Hanging beneath his tail was his incredibly large Galapagos penis, normally concealed from view within the turtle's body, but now hardened and brutally thick. They were about to mate!
Trembling with excitement, the Curator of the Reptile House reacted quickly, replacing the picture of the Marine Iguana (Amblyrhynchus Cristatus) and slipping into his white laboratory coat in order to hide his own irrepressible erection. Then he banged fiercely on the door of the bathroom.
"Lucy! It's happening! They're mating!"
In the shower, the girl shivered with eagerness as she heard her supervisor's excited words. This was the historic moment they had been waiting for! She would be the first zoologist to photograph the mating ritual of the Galapagos turtle. In her haste, she nearly forgot that she was still naked, but as her hand was about to touch the doorknob, she quickly wrapped a bath-towel around her moistly delectable figure.
Fertilizing a three-hundred pound tortoise is not the easiest thing in the world, as Maxwell was finding out, and even though Penelope was cooperating to the best of her ability, she was only eighty-five years old and still a virgin. Lucy emerged into the office to find Dr. Roberts fussing with the camera she had positioned next to the cage. "Let me do it!" she cried, since Roberts was hopeless with mechanical devices. The Curator readily yielded his position as his pretty assistant swept across the room, the inadequate bath-towel barely covering the strategic parts of her voluptuous young body. Lucy bent quickly over the tripod and began focusing the camera just as Maxwell was consolidating his position on Penelope's plated back, his long green log-like penis probing up beneath her quivering tail. Lucy brought the camera expertly into focus and began snapping pictures, realizing that the occasion was of enormous scientific importance.
Dr. Roberts, on the other hand, was having great difficulty keeping his attention on the two rutting tortoises. As Lucy- bent over, naturally, the towel covering her cock-taunting nakedness shifted its position slightly, and the zoologist's eyes were now treated to a delicious view of her smooth bare flanks and about forty percent of her glistening right buttock. He stood behind her, his eyes trained on the mysteries of her half-clad body, fear struggling with desire. Struck by a sudden inspiration, he attempted the lewd tactic of carelessly brushing his thigh against the towel, successfully uncovering the rest of her firmly-rounded ass-cheek. But Dr. MacTarmack was far too engrossed in what she was doing to notice.
"Can you take a light reading?" she snapped briskly as Roberts feasted his greedy eyes on the lasciviously revealed half-moons of her trim little buttocks. "I've got to get this aperture right!"
"Aperture... " echoed Roberts dumbly, bending over with lewd delight and gazing at the faint reddish wisps of the girl's pubic hair straying back between her thighs. "Aperture is all right!"
"If you say so," Lucy responded, doubling her concentration as Maxwell found his way to the rough, leathery opening beneath Penelope's tail and began to inch his swollen instrument up into her willing body. Roberts, meanwhile, was beginning to lose his mind with lust as he maneuvered himself behind his unsuspecting assistant, feeling his fully erected cock throbbing wildly in his pants. Knowing that he was going too far, but no longer able to stop himself he reached carefully out and poked the knot Lucy had made in the towel to fasten it around her breasts. It took a minute of cautious concentration, but Roberts finally managed to undo it.
"Ah! Oh, please, Doctor Roberts," the girl yelped with alarm, not moving from the camera as the towel slid off of her desire-provoking body and fell to the floor. "Would you cover me?" The coupling of the two gigantic reptiles was approaching a critical stage, and she feared that if she deserted her camera for as long as it took to cover her voluptuous body, the history-making photograph might be lost. Besides, Roberts was undoubtedly paying no attention to her, being a scientist...
"Certainly, my dear," muttered Roberts, his eyes widening with savage lust as he surveyed the soft full globes of her flaccid young breasts. "Just keep... ah... photographing... " The Curator of Reptiles swept the towel up off the floor and held it in his trembling hands for a second, fighting a savage internal battle for self-control.
Unfortunately, he lost! With an animal-like growl, Roberts tossed the towel into a far comer of the room, his mind totally possessed by the notion of burying his anguished cock in his redheaded assistant's soft and vulnerable pussy. Gasping with unbridled lust, he ripped open the front of his pants, exposing his hardened rod of lust-swollen flesh and moved in for the kill.
Despite her enormous powers of concentration, Lucy was nervous about being stark naked in the laboratory, and she turned her head just in time to see Dr. Roberts sliding his stiffened penis in between her invitingly parted thighs.
"Ahhhh! No!!!!! Doctor Roberts!" she screamed, backing away from the lust-maddened zoologist in horror. "What are you doing?"
To someone who had studied biology, it should have been perfectly obvious what he was doing, but the girl's brain was unsettled by this unexpected turn of events, and she allowed herself to be backed into a comer formed by the turtle cage and the wall. Roberts was now totally beside himself and he tackled her delicate form like a football player, sending the girl sprawling on her back with her finely tapered legs scissoring apart while he crawled lasciviously on top of her, his rigid penis stabbing dangerously at the exposed triangular target of her delectable little pussy.
"Why should they have all the fun?" he snarled, wincing as Dr. MacTarmack raked her nails through the skin on his cheek. "I can't take it anymore! I've got to have it!"
"Please! Control yourself!" Lucy pleaded with the temporarily deranged herpetologist as she struggled to close her legs and defend the delicate pink lips of her untouched vagina from his obscenely probing cock. Roberts' only answer was a snarl of brutal lust as he buried his face in the tempting mountain range of her supple, yielding breasts, alternately sucking one sensitive little nipple, then the other, and back again, until she felt they were going to burst.
"Can't help it," he grunted, pinning her arms to the cold concrete floor to keep her from scratching him again. "Gotta... have... your... body!"
"But I'm a scientist!" the girl tried to reason with him, twisting her torso wildly as her boss made a nearly successful jab at the defenseless orifice of her vagina. "It's only an accident that I'm a woman!"
"Accidents will happen," he muttered insanely, flexing his hips savagely as he made one supreme effort to implant his merciless organ into the softness of her unused little cunt. Out of the corner of her eye, Lucy saw that Maxwell and Penelope had given up on their own attempts to mate and were calmly watching the two reptile specialists thrashing wildly around on the floor. The turtle is an intelligent beast, always willing to learn.
This is madness, the girl thought helplessly, wrenching her lust young body just in time as Roberts attempted to skewer her unprotected vagina with his desire-bloated battering ram. My God, why does it always have to work out like this? Why can't I have a friendly intellectual relationship with a fellow scientist without having him go berserk? Why are men always trying to use me?
The telephone rang.
"Please... it won't take long," pleaded Dr. Roberts, nearly in tears as he found himself unable to effect a penetration into the sexy young girl's rebelliously twisting body. "Just a quickie!"
"The phone... " she gasped at him, realizing that the peak of his savagery had passed. "Answer the phone!"
With a muffled sob, Dr. Roberts gave in and rolled off of his assistant's nakedly stunning body, buttoning his pants as he stumbled towards the ringing telephone, swearing horribly. The moment she was free, Lucy snatched up the discarded towel and raced for the security of the bathroom, locking the door behind her. Her luscious body was still trembling with fright and shock as she listened to Dr. Roberts answer the phone, his voice quivering with frustration.
"Yes? Yes, she's here. Visitors? All right, I'll tell her."
There was a click and then the scratch of Roberts' pen as he jotted her a note on his blotter. Lucy put her panties on, reminding herself to recount this dreadful experience at the next general meeting of the Sisterhood of Science, an organization of female scientists, dedicated to the principles of Women's Liberation, which met every Tuesday night in a rented hall over a nearby bowling alley.
She would not mention Dr. Roberts' name, of course, she decided, as she refastened her brassiere. She had always felt a little guilty about wearing a bra since one of the cardinal rules of Women's Lib was bralessness, but unfortunately Lucy was a trifle too voluptuous for the unfettered state. She shuddered at the notion of walking into the Zoo Cafeteria with her unrestrained breasts jiggling freely. There would be mass rape!
As she stepped into her slacks, there was a click as Dr. Roberts closed the door of the Reptile House office, departing in disgrace for the day. Grateful that she would not have to face him until tomorrow morning, Dr. MacTarmack sighed deeply and reached for her blouse, buttoning it up to the collar.
* * *
Lucy studied the card before her on the desk.
It Read:
MORRIS W. MORRISSON,
ATTORNEY AT LAW MORRISSON,
REDUNDANT AND MORRISSON,INC.
12 PARK AVENUE, NEW YORK CITY
"I've heard of you, of course," she murmured shyly, looking up into the cool confident eyes of the handsome gray-haired lawyer who sat before her. Mr. Morrisson had recently defended the governor of an Eastern State who had been accused of maintaining a string of prostitutes in the Governor's mansion, and he had successfully kept the politician out of jail. During the Senate Hearings on the subject, Morrisson's face had appeared frequently on television, to the intense irritation of viewers who wanted to see "I Love Lucy" re-runs. His strong, noble features inspired trust and confidence and it seemed impossible that this man would ever stoop to anything mean or dishonest. His voice was deep and self-assured and Lucy found herself trusting him instinctively. After her terrible experience a few minutes before, even a convinced Women's Libber can use a father figure to lean upon in troubled times.
"You have also heard of William MacTarmack, I presume?" Morrisson inquired gently. "The Investment tycoon? In their vulgar fashion, the newspapers refer to him as 'Wild Bill'."
"Yes... I often wondered if we were related in some way," the girl responded, still puzzled over the purpose of Morrisson's visit. "Our names are the same and... "
"You are related very distantly," the lawyer interrupted succinctly, "very distantly indeed, and before you get false hopes up, I should tell you that you are not specifically mentioned in his will."
"Oh." For a moment, Lucy had entertained a fleeting hope that Wild Bill had passed on to the big stock exchange in the sky, and that she was the sole surviving relative, destined to inherit the MacTarmack millions. The girl had never dreamed of enormous wealth, but her Assistant Curator's salary was meager, and as a millionairess, she could have made some badly needed improvements in the Reptile House.
"However, you are relatives, and my firm has established an international reputation for foresight. As a relative, however distant, of Wild Bill's, you will need expert legal and financial representation in the event that you do qualify in the future for participation in our client's last will and testament. We are here to offer you that representation, taking charge of all your legal and financial concerns, free of charge, naturally."
"Golly," gasped the girl as Morris W. Morrisson extracted a two-hundred page contract from an alligator skin attache case and set it gently before her. "I don't have any legal and financial concerns. I've only got forty-seven dollars in the bank and... " The future can be faced with tranquility, my dear, with a good law firm at one's beck and call. If you would just sign here."
Lucy had been told all about reading the fine print in contracts, but like most scientists, she was more comfortable with test-tubes than torts. She picked up her fountain pen.
"What does it commit me to do?" she inquired, thinking herself fairly shrewd for having remembered to ask.
"Just two things," responded Morrisson frankly. "It appoints my firm to handle your legal and financial affairs, under your direction, naturally, and it requires you to cooperate with any efforts we may make to gain for you a portion of the MacTarmack estate."
"Gee, that's wonderful."
"We lawyers draw our major satisfaction in life from helping people," Morrisson assured her, exhaling with relief as he watched the auburn-haired woman sign on the dotted line. "Congratulations, my dear, you have just acquired the nation's number one legal team to look after your interests. Now, as your personal lawyer, I would like to explain to you more clearly how we intend to act in your behalf. You don't happen to be pregnant do you?"
"What? Of course not!" she replied, startled and blushing as she remembered the close call she had experienced a moment before.
"No matter, no matter, that can easily be remedied since Dr. Williamson has assured us that you are a normally fertile young woman and... "
"Doctor Williamson! Why have you been talking to my gynecologist?" the girl shouted, now angry and perplexed. What were these male chauvinist pigs up to now? "You've been spying on me!"
"Now, now, my dear, nothing of the sort, but we have to protect our investment, don't we? Well, I'll come right to the heart of the matter, Lucy, we want you to get pregnant immediately. I should mention that it has to be done, ah... shall we say in the traditional fashion, since Mr. MacTarmack believes, and he may be right, who knows -- that artificial insemination is a communist plot designed to turn us into a race of Mongolian idiots. Do you have a father in mind, or would you like us to select one for you?"
"Select one? You're out of your mind!" the angry young scientist stormed at the placid lawyer. "I'll marry when I'm good and ready!"
"You don't have to get married, dear, just pregnant. Now I have several handsome young lawyers on my staff who would do very nicely. Of course, if you prefer a more mature man with a proven capacity in their matters, as your lawyer, I can offer my own services... " Morrisson smiled seductively and stroked one of her hands, giving her a sly 'Wink.
"Get out!"
"A quarter of a billion dollars goes to the first MacTarmack to produce an heir," explained the lawyer hurriedly, seeing that he had somehow mismanaged things.
"I'm a woman, not a bond issue!" shouted the furious young scientist, jumping to her feet and striding to the door, determined to leave herself, since Morrisson showed no signs of obeying her eviction notice. She stormed out of the office and disappeared in the general direction of the Zebra cage.
"Wrong, my dear, you are preferred, blue chip stock," smiled Morrisson to himself. "And I intend to cash in on you." The lawyer gazed quizzically in the comer where Maxwell was rutting gleefully with Penelope in their cage.
Morrisson affectionately patted the top of the turtle cage. "Thataboy," he said pleasantly.
CHAPTER THREE
Three stern Mercedes rumbled pompously through the fields of waving grain, an unusual sight in Nebraska, and farmers paused in their honest labor to gaze upon the strange caravan. In the lead car, sat W. Scott McNalty, a dark-haired girl named Marge, a former FBI man turned cost accountant and the eminent gynecologist who had almost but not quite succeeded in making Wild Bill MacTarmack a father. In the following two Mercedes were three earnest young stockbrokers and several young women of proven fertility, all of them approximately as beautiful as Marge.
"This is the largest single operation in the history of gynecology," murmured the gynecologist gratefully. "I wonder someday if I might be allowed to publish my notes..."
"If you don't mind being slapped with a million dollar breech-of-contract suit, Doctor," McNalty squinted through his thick glasses at the medical man. "And may I remind you that the American Medical Association is likely to take a dim view of this extravaganza? Medical ethics and all that kind of thing?"
"I don't know anything about ethics, but I just feel I'm going to love Luther," affirmed Marge solemnly. "The McNalty Company is bringing two lonely people together."
It was hard to imagine that a honey blonde with a thirty-nine-inch bust mounted atop a staggering figure could ever be lonely for long, but the company allowed this romantic statement to pass without comment.
"Let's just hope Luther doesn't turn out to be queer," muttered the gynecologist.
"We're prepared for that," announced McNalty calmly. "Notice that slender young man in the last car? The one who looks a trifle... eh... "
"Queer, Yeah, I wondered what a guy like that was doing on your staff," grumbled the ex-FBI man suspiciously.
"Effeminate is the word I would have used," specified McNalty. "Very effeminate indeed, and for the very excellent reason that George, back there, is actually Georgia, a perfectly charming and very fertile young woman with considerable acting experience. My theory is... "
"If Luther turns out to be a faggot... "
"Precisely, we give him Georgia, with the hopes that before he discovers the truth it will be too late."
"Mr. McNalty, you're a genius!" said the ex-FBI man sincerely. "J. Edgar himself wouldn't have thought of that."
* * *
Luther MacTarmack, who would have been a Harvard man except for that unfortunate episode with the Radcliffe girl and the pound of hashish, had been fortunate enough to discover that what he wanted to do in life and what he was good at doing were the same things, a happy coincidence not enjoyed by many. Of course, there had been a few anguishing days after the Dean of Students had come storming into his dorm room and terminated his academic career, especially since he had been in the process of demonstrating to the Radcliffe girl that he was the most disastrously incompetent lover in the entire Ivy League. But then, wandering aimlessly through Cambridge a few days later with nothing to his name but a few well-thumbed books on engineering and a few ounces of high quality Mexican grass, he had chanced to come upon a tent built in the form of a geodesic dome, a free standing geometric affair made with a complicated series of interlocking triangles, originally invented by the architect R. Buckminster Fuller. Entranced by the design, Luther had sat down immediately, rolled himself a joint and began sketching. His career had been born in that moment.
When the three Mercedes rolled incongruously up to the edge of the commune where he was presently working, Luther was lying on his back on a scaffold, forty-five feet off the ground just under the roof of a half-completed geodesic dome. He was smoking his customary joint for inspiration as he happily worked out some last minute structural problems involved in this construction, which was going to be a residence for several dozen hippies who had dropped out of society. A geodesic dome was the most economical means of enclosing large spaces, and Luther was in considerable demand among the growing number of hippie communes springing up in various parts of the country. They were rarely able to pay him much beyond room and board while he was designing and building their dome, but Luther's wants were simple and he was a genius at constructing domes out of cheap, locally available materials. Every commune had an ample supply of marijuana, which was one of Luther's few real necessities, and a willing labor force of young men who worked under his orders. There was usually a single female or two who would offer the young engineer her own special form of reimbursement, but after the catastrophe with that Radcliffe girl, Luther had begun to regard sex as an engineering problem involving stresses and forces beyond his competence and left it alone. Right now he needed a husky steel plate to handle the stresses at the very apex of his dome, which the commune could not afford, and he was too deeply engrossed in concentration on the matter to notice a bald-headed stock broker with thick glasses making his way up the ladder.
"You Luther MacTarmack?"
"You a cop?"
"No."
"Then I'm Luther MacTarmack. But if you can't get me a five-pronged steel capping plate, I don't wanna talk to you."
"I'll have one flown in by helicopter in the morning," promised McNalty, trying not to look down as he clung nervously to the ladder.
"That's great, man! Hey, you wanta hit?" Gratefully, Luther offered McNalty a drag on his joint, but the stockbroker shook his head as he wiggled onto the narrow platform where the engineer was reclining comfortably.
"Mr. MacTarmack, I have come to offer you the opportunity to become one of the richest men in America!" he announced majestically, having prepared for this moment ever since Chicago.
"It's got to be stainless steel," mumbled Luther, still thinking about his metal plate.
"Untold millions."
"I don't want any untold millions, man. Hey, you trying to complicate my life?" Luther swung his legs carelessly over the side of the scaffolding and began to precede McNalty down the ladder.
"Think of the future, boy. A lovely home -- a geodesic dome, naturally, and a beautiful young wife... children climbing on your knee... "
"I think I'm gonna be sick," murmured Luther, turning a little pale as the notions of house, wedlock and children peppered his brain. "Hey, just forget that steel plate, man, I'll think of something else."
McNalty's confidence returned quickly as he felt the solid ground beneath his feet once more. Having sold stock all his life, he had found that the blunt approach was inevitably the most effective.
"Luther, I'll lay it on the line. You want to be rich, right? Everybody wants to be rich, but for most of us, it's hard to do. All you have to do is sleep with a beautiful woman and get her pregnant. Now what's hard about that?"
Luther's mild brown eyes flashed over the three Mercedes and the former FBI man and the six beautiful and fertile women and all McNalty's assistant stockbrokers. He mumbled something about his hashish spiked with opium and then fainted.
* * *
"Oh Luther, it's going to be wonderful," said Marge happily as she explored the hut where the hippie engineer had been spending his nights. "I'm going to love being your secretary."
Luther sat on his haunches near the door looking as if he were ready to flee at a moment's notice. His eyes followed Marge's sultry body as she poked through his designs and models of geodesic domes. The girl was wearing a miniskirt which was nearly indistinguishable from a loin cloth, and her long, finely tapered legs troubled him for some undefinable reason. Above the belt, the situation was even more disturbing for a dedicated young dome-builder with a nonexistent love-life. Her blouse was made of some translucent material and everytime Marge passed between him and the light, Luther could see the tantalizing outline of her alluringly swaying breasts, making his frontal lobes twitch.
"What... what did that man mean when he said I had to get someone pregnant?' he asked with a quivering voice, thinking back to that day in his dorm room and remembering how the Radcliffe girl had mocked his total incompetence as he had striven manfully to lose his virginity.
"Oh, he was just joking, sweetie," Marge assured him, coming over to pat him tenderly on the cheek. "Mr. McNalty is a little eccentric, and he likes to tease people, but he's crazy about geodesic domes and he wants you to be the most successful young dome-builder in America."
"But... I've been building domes for ten years now and I never made a dime," objected Luther, thinking that it was about time that he had a joint. "So why does he want to invest my earnings? Why did I have to sign that contract making him my financial manager? Why do I suddenly need a secretary?"
Wisely, Marge refrained from attempting an explanation. While the gynecologist had revived the unconscious Luther, McNalty had held an emergency meeting and conferred with his principal assistants. Since the notion of impregnating someone seemed to provoke the engineer into unconsciousness, it had been decided to skip a detailed explanation of MacTarmack's will, and get on with the job. Luther had signed the necessary contract while he was still groggy and by the time he had gotten both eyes open wide, McNalty and his three Mercedes had disappeared to a nearby motel, leaving him with his new secretary.
"Oh, I'm sure you'll find lots of... ah... uses for me, boss," the girl breathed at him excitingly, standing so close to Luther that the unfettered tips of her breasts brushed temptingly across his chest. "I have all kinds of hidden talents."
"But where will you sleep?" mumbled Luther. "This shack is all I've got and there's only one bed."
"Mmmmmm, we'll manage, boss. I'm always ready to rough it."
"You take the bed. I'll sleep on the floor," decided Luther firmly, unrolling his sleeping bag and spreading it out as far as possible from the bed.
Marge nodded grimly, seeing that this was going to be more of a job than she had bargained for. According to the gynecologist's calculations, she was in her fertile period right now, and by tomorrow it could have passed and there were six other girls waiting with McNalty for their chance at Luther. She had to get him tonight!
"Whatever you say, boss," the scheming brunette responded agreeably, patting the sagging mattress on Luther's single bed. "Maybe we could have a little smoke to help us get to sleep, eh?" Marge had noticed that Luther seemed to be dangerously un-stoned and her spirits rose quickly and she saw him squat cross-legged on his sleeping bag and begin to shake some brown marijuana into a piece of cigarette paper. Marge herself had never actually smoked marijuana before, but it seemed to relax Luther, and she realized she could hardly expect to seduce him in his present state of nervous agitation. She stood next to him, watching his expert fingers prepare the joint, her fingers slowly unfastening the buttons on her glimmering blouse.
"Yes?"
"I always sleep in the nude. You don't mind, do you?"
Feeling the tingle in his backbone descend suddenly to the base of his spine, Luther looked up just in time to see Marge slip the blouse off her shoulders, exposing the deep-valleyed mounds of her seemingly enormous breasts. For some reason, the girl's wide brown nipples were already hard and turgid, popping out at the young engineer like two little blind eyes. She smiled at him nonchalantly, brushing her hair out of her eyes as she dropped the blouse casually over the back of a nearby chair.
"Ah... no, of course not," stammered Luther, nearly spilling his marijuana pouch. "Sleep anyway you want." The young man's mind was whirling in amazement. The girls he met in the hippie communes were pretty wild, but they also tended to need baths, and clean or not, none of them had ever looked quite like Marge! She was now undoing a series of three buttons which kept her miniskirt clinging to her sensuously flaring hips, and when she completed the operation, gravity overcame modesty and the skirt slid beckoningly to the floor.
Finding that his hands were shaking, Luther put the hand-rolled cigarette between his lips and lit it. Marge was now stark naked except for the frailest pair of transparent panties Luther had ever seen and the young man found he could not tear his eyes off the dark mysterious triangle beneath the flimsy panty fabric. Marge added insult to injury by bending over to pick up her skirt, and Luther felt his penis hardening slightly in his pants as the full-rounded moons of her buttocks poised a foot from his face, the material of the panties slipping wickedly into the crevice between her ass-cheeks as she bent. Her body was firm and delectable all over, and Luther found himself comparing it very favorably to the bony, flat-chested Radcliffe girl he had attempted to perforate a decade before during his one and only solo flight into the blue skies of sensuality. Unfortunately, the moment he recalled the incident with the Radcliffe girl, the minimal stiffness of his cock departed instantly. He shook himself out of that awful memory in time to see Marge playfully kick off her panties, her lust-provoking breasts jiggling merrily as she bounced down beside him on the sleeping bag and took the joint from his quivering fingers.
"Aren't you going to get ready for bed, boss?" the naked girl asked him casually as she sat down beside him on the sleeping bag. "Don't mind me. I'm very cool about bodies."
Luther knew he was blushing, his face becoming as red as his hair, but Marge seemed to have a talent for getting her way. Turning his back on her, he wiggled out of his pants and shirt and then quickly squirmed into the sleeping bag, still protected by the flag of his jockey shorts. The voluptuous young woman glanced at him appraisingly, noticing that his body was hard and athletic from ten years of climbing around on geodesic domes. She took a drag on his joint, feeling her head spin as the mind-altering drug flowed through her lungs and into her bloodstream, but finding the sensation entirely agreeable. She took another puff, holding the smoke down as long as she could, having heard that this was the proper way to get the desired effect.
"Gee, I'm a little chilly," she complained.
"There are some blankets on your bed," Luther pointed out.
"Yes, but if I went over there, we wouldn't be able to pass the cigarette back and forth, would we?" she observed brightly, swinging her long naked legs around. "I'll just crawl in here with you until we've had our smoke."
There was something overwhelming about the force of her logic, but Luther felt his face going pale again as she squirmed down into the sleeping bag beside him. The velvet-smooth surface of her thighs rubbed against his and the rosy tips of her tiny hardened nipples glided provocatively across his chest as the two young people lay facing one another. Passing the cigarette back and forth, belly to belly, it seemed to Luther that she was inching closer and closer to him. He wondered if he was going to pass out again.
"Excuse me, boss, but as your secretary, it's my duty to point these things out to you," Marge said a little dreamily as her hand came to rest on his naked thigh.
"Oh... what things?" gulped Luther suspiciously. He was getting a little high, but for some reason, he could not seem to relax his trembling body.
"Well, the doctors all say you're not supposed to wear your jockey shorts to bed at night. The elastic's too tight and it cuts off the blood circulation. Could lead to gangrene."
"Gangrene?"
"That's what they all say, boss. Here, you hold the joint and I'll help you."
The poor son-of-a-bitch is really helpless, Marge thought with satisfaction as Luther accepted the joint and obediently raised his hips so that she could slip her hands beneath the elastic of his undershorts and slide them down over his knees into the obscurity of the bottom of the sleeping bag. While performing this delicate operation, the girl cleverly ran her hand up and down over the limpness of his cock, finding it big enough to satisfy the most demanding women even in its relaxed state, but unquestionably unrigid and unready for action of any kind.
Wow, I wish I hadn't smoked so much of that stuff, she meditated, creeping so close to Luther that his penis was crushed between their naked stomachs. I'm having difficulty concentrating and the room seems to be spinning... I wish he'd stop shivering and fuck me. I don't give a damn about McNalty and his crowd of jerks, but I sure would like to get laid. I wonder if he knows how to do it?
"Oh Luther... " she whispered enticingly, pressing the soft warmness of her lips against his manly chest, wondering if somehow she was losing her knack for exciting men. The truth of the matter was that she was becoming powerfully turned on herself. The more she looked at him, the more she realized that beneath the shaggy red hair and the dirty overalls he customarily wore, Luther was a highly attractive male. But what was the cause of this damnably limp penis? Was he queer? Would she have to step aside and let Georgia/George have a try at him?
It was time to turn on the heat.
"Hey boss," she purred at him seductively, rubbing the full lust-arousing warmth of her yearning young breasts against his hairy chest. "I mean, excuse me, but I seem to be... that is... I want... "
"It won't work, Marge," Luther suddenly confessed, having decided to blurt out the horrible truth and get it over with. "I tried it once, and I was such a failure that I get nervous just thinking about it."
"And you never tried again?"
"Nope. I couldn't face the humiliation of another failure."
"But Luther, did that other girl... I mean, was she like me?" Cunningly, the girl reached for one of his hands and raised it to one of her softly yielding breasts. "Touch me and see." Luther touched and felt his cock jerking appreciatively against the warmly welcoming flesh of Marge's stomach. He had never in his life felt anything as pleasant as the resilient texture of her breast, and he began to stroke and caress it happily, running his timid fingers over the rigid little buds of her nipples.
"And here?" cried Marge, sensing that she was finally getting somewhere. "Did she feel the same down here?" Lasciviously, she guided Luther's other hand directly to the slowly palpitating flesh of her pussy, taking one finger and pressing it to the moistly swelling button of her clitoris. With the curiosity of a structural engineer, Luther explored, since she seemed to be offering him this licentious opportunity, pushing his fingers into the warm wet curls of her pubic hair, lightly touching the trembling open lips of her pussy, and finally finding the courage to plunge one bold middle finger directly into the tightly clasped little orifice of her cunt. The girl groaned in pure ecstasy beside him. Luther reflected that this was the nicest thing that had ever happened to his left hand, and pushed it a little farther into the warmly moistening crevice. His cock stirred powerfully after its long sleep, and the girl seized his hand, holding his middle finger clasped tight within her aching vagina as she began to thrust her hips demandingly against him.
"Tell me!" she panted lustfully at him. "That other girl... did she feel like me?"
"I... I don't know," admitted Luther shamefully. "She never let me touch her there." Marge was going quickly and ecstatically out of her mind. She took one long last drag on the reefer with her one free hand and then butted it into an ashtray, feeling her mind reel into orbit as the marijuana destroyed the last barrier of her defenses. Meanwhile, her hips continued to thrust wildly forward and backward as Luther agreeably wormed his outstretched middle finger even farther into her desire-inflamed vagina, then successfully wormed an additional two fingers up into the pulsating little tunnel while keeping his thumb atop the throbbing little button of her clitoris.
"Yes... yes... like that... " she gasped in pure carnal bliss. "You... what did this girl do to you, then... if you ahhhh... couldn't even touch her... ohhhh... "
"We got under the covers and she let me lie on top of her," recalled Luther grimly. "And I tried to put it in."
"And... oh harder, boss, harder... and what happened then?"
"I couldn't find it," the engineer mumbled. "She wouldn't let me use my hands because she was ticklish. Am I doing this right?"
"Oh Luther, just a little... more... I'm almost... "
"And I kept trying, but after awhile she started putting me down, and then I wasn't hard enough to get it into anything, even if I could have found it."
The two of them had established a comfortable and ever-accelerating rhythm by now, and Luther was thrusting his three fingers lewdly into the steadily-widening aperture of her cunt as Marge rocked her lust-stricken body wildly against him, her copious vaginal secretions lubricating their sex-play.
"Boss... it's going... to be... different... from now... Oh Christ, I'm cumming!"
"You're what?" asked Luther in some alarm as the girl's marijuana-fogged body seemed to fly into confusions. Her muscles all went stiff and he could feel her vagina pulsating powerfully around his invading fingers as her legs curled around his and her arms tightened around his neck, crushing her supple proud breasts against his chest.
"I'mmmmmmmm cummmmmmmmmmmming!" she repeated in a strangely high voice. " Aaaaaaaggggghhhhh! " Luther held her tightly, filled with an -enormous sense of awe and happiness. Had he known it was this easy to satisfy a woman, he would have never have given up so easily after the fiasco with the Radcliffe girl. Marge was groaning and gasping in pure animal delight now, panting and sobbing as she enjoyed her orgasm to the last drop. She covered his face with moist kisses, licking his eyes and thrusting her anxious tongue lasciviously into his mouth as they kissed, and Luther felt his long-disused instrument throb hotly with a desire he had not " felt for a decade.
"Oh God, Luther, that was good," she gasped gratefully as the spasm slowly subsided, leaving behind a warm rosy glow which seemed to infect her entire body. "Wow, I was cumming so hard!"
"You... you had an orgasm?" Luther thought that she had, but he wanted to be sure.
"Oh boy, did I have an orgasm, " she assured him. "Luther, you can do anything you want to me.
"Gee, I didn't... I mean, I thought I had to put my... y'know... my thing inside of you for you to have one of those."
"Luther, honey, where have you been all your life? Baby, everything goes into everything else and it always ends the same happy way. I don't think your chick from Radcliffe knew anymore about it than you did!" Marge explored with her hand, finding that the engineer's penis was fairly firm and erected to almost its full height. But thinking about the Radcliffe girl was having its usual deflating effect upon him. Marge decided she had to act fast.
"For example, put your tongue in my mouth!" she ordered moving her moist lips to his face. Luther obliged, and their tongues met for a moment of wicked French play in her open mouth. The man's cock rose by another half inch.
"Mouths are nice too, aren't they?" she tempted him evilly, ducking her head down under the sleeping bag and running her lips searingly across his chest and then his stomach, her hands still clinging to his pulsating rod. "You can do all sorts of things with your mouth, baby. Like this, for example!"
With a lewd chuckle, Marge's tongue danced out between her open lips, licking the crimson tip of Luther's uncircumcised penis and causing his entire body to jerk spasmodically. He could hardly believe all of this was happening to him, poor shy old Luther MacTarmack, but unless he had smoked too much dope and gone completely around the bend, it was really happening. A sensationally voluptuous woman had been brought to him in a Mercedes, and she was now huddled obscenely between his legs running the moist ovals of her lips over his quiveringly rigid cock!
He could feel the soft warmth of her breath on his loins as she moved even closer to him, her dainty fingers encircling the massive shaft of his hardening cock while the other hand delicately cupped his sperm-filled testicles. She touched him again, pushing the tiny point of her moist tongue into the wetness of his pulsating glans sending chills rippling up and down his spine. The sensation was excruciatingly pleasurable and the young man sucked his breath in sharply, feeling a strange erotic warmth filling his entire body.
"Boy... it's nice having a secretary," he mumbled jubilantly as her soft tongue began to lash steadily back and forth across the swollen surface of his naked penis.
"You like it?" she asked him coyly.
"You bet!"
"Then try this one on for size," she warned him wickedly, ducking back down beneath the covers and warming to her lewd task. Taking a deep breath, she maneuvered his blood-engorged cock so that it stood out at a right angle to his body and then enclosed it moistly inside her willing mouth, trapping the whole of the broad meaty tip between her parted lips.
"Oh God," she heard Luther groaning in ecstasy and the thought that she was giving him so much pleasure filled her with an irrational sense of joy. In fact, Marge was having considerable difficulty getting her brain to function after the unfamiliar experience of smoking the mind-destroying marijuana and she kept having to remind herself of the mission she had been brought here to accomplish.
I'll get him really steamed up first, she meditated wickedly, and when he's just about ready to cum, I'll climb on top of him and let him shoot it into me. God, a quarter of a billion dollars if I can get knocked up! If I'm a whore, I'm gonna be the best-paid whore in history. And if he gets me pregnant, he'll have to marry me! Wow!
Luther lifted the cover of the sleeping bag, inspired by a lewd desire to see precisely what this dark-haired girl was doing which was causing him so much pleasure. It was an incredible sight. Her beautiful young face was contorted as the massive shaft of his slowly erecting cock penetrated the soft red barrier of her lips, glistening with saliva as she sucked him like a madwoman. Expertly, she was massaging the tender spongy sac of his sperm-bloated testicles with one hand while with the other she maddeningly stroked the stout base of his cock. Luther's eyes bulged as he focused on the point where his invading cock disappeared mysteriously into her slowly churning mouth and he could feel her tongue curling lovingly around it as she brought him up to the lewd heights of sexual arousal. Her cheeks alternately hollowed and puffed out as she sucked on him and Luther gently replaced the covers over her head and lay back in perfect contentment. The half-smoked joint was still smoldering in the ashtray, and the young engineer decided to double his pleasure, smoking a little more pot while Marge slavishly sucked his rampant shaft for him.
Meanwhile, the young woman was trying hard to remember that she had come here to get pregnant at all costs, but her brain was whirling with the wildly obscene lusts generated by the bizarre act of huddling at the bottom of a sleeping bag lasciviously sucking the cock of a hippie geodesic dome builder. She had never done anything quite this perverted before and she felt her own body catching fire all over again as she pulled Luther's massive member farther and farther into the back of her willing throat. God, he's huge, she was thinking as she slaved over him. I could use a little of this every day for the next decade or two, and all that MacTarmack money would make it even nicer!
Luther wondered vaguely why this strange young woman was not choking on his mammoth penis in her mouth, but the amount of marijuana now floating in his bloodstream was preventing him from thinking too profoundly about anything. He dropped the roach back into the ashtray as he felt great swirls of heat building dangerously up in his loins, and slowly he began to catch the lewd rhythm of this carnal act. The muscles in his stomach tightened and he started flexing his hips back and forth energetically, driving the long invading shaft of his cock deeper and deeper between the hard-haired girl's tightly ovalled red lips. Wanting to touch her somehow, he reached down beneath the covers, running his powerful hands into Marge's long thick hair and holding her head in a vise-like grip while he pummeled her savagely contorted mouth.
"Oh God," he muttered ecstatically, knowing that nothing that had ever happened to him had ever been as good as this. The girl was murmuring and squealing beneath him, but Luther's muscular body was raging out of control and he could not have stopped himself now had he tried, and he was not trying. He was going to cum, cum like a herd of elephants on the stampede, and nothing, nothing could spoil the pleasure of this wild heady moment!
Beneath him, under the covers, Marge only realized her error after it was too late. She felt the man's hot sticky sperm begin its lewd dash up from the huge swaying sack of his testicles to the tip of his hotly ejaculating penis. She tried desperately to wiggle away, realizing at the last minute that she had only a matter of seconds to impale her fertile womb on his fertilely spasming rod, but Luther was holding her head in a death-grip. Instinctively, she realized that there was no longer any escape, but she was far too stoned to realize how badly she had failed.
Luther's cock exploded then, and Marge swallowed greedily, gulping like a madwoman as the hot thin stream of cum speared into the back of her imprisoned throat. She could swallow or strangle, since the man had been too long without a woman and had stored up enormous quantities of the white-hot fluid in his body. Exhausted and strangely happy, the dizzy brunette coughed and gagged as she choked it down, licking and sucking his slowly deflating instrument as the flow of sperm subsided to a trickle and then stopped altogether.
"God... that was... good!" murmured Luther pantingly above her. His limp penis still lodged obscenely in her mouth, Marge smiled and purred at him, feeling the marijuana close in on her.
Neither of them moved. Luther felt utterly at peace with the world and himself. Now that he knew he could do it, why, he would do it again! With Marge as his secretary, he would be able to do it whenever they liked and doing it this way, there was no problem about having children which they could hardly afford on his income.
Marge thought nothing at all, and fell asleep with her lips still closed lovingly over the young man's flaccid penis.
In the morning, he was gone. Wildly, Marge sat up in the sleeping bag, wondering how he could possibly have left without awakening her, given the fact that they had been sleeping in a highly peculiar position. Climbing hurriedly into her clothing, Marge ran out into the bright sunlight and spotted her red-haired lover high on his geodesic dome, fitting the brand new five-pronged steel capping plate into position.
"Luther!" she wailed, realizing that her period of fertility was scheduled to end this morning and she had to get him to-make love to her again, this time in the missionary position. "Please come down."
"Can't baby," he called back to her happily, as he directed the work of his team of hippie assistants. "See ya for lunch."
Lunch would be too late. Repressing a sob, Marge turned and walked out to the main highway where McNalty and the former FBI man were waiting in the Mercedes. The driver started the motor and they started back towards the motel where the McNalty team had established its headquarters.
"How did it go?" asked the myopic stock broker, peering at her through his thick glasses.
Marge sniffled, realizing that she could not bear to confess to these hard-boiled money men that she had blown her mind with pot and Luther with her mouth, and managed to get nary a drop of his million-dollar sperm into the receptive depths of her womb.
"I guess I didn't interest him," she murmured unhappily.
"Goddamn, he must be made out of stone. What does interest him?" roared McNalty in a rare display of anger.
"Geodesic domes," reported Marge dully.
"We know that!" snarled the former FBI man.
But wait," snuffed McNalty, his eyes suddenly widening as an idea invaded his brain. "A geodesic dome. What's it shaped like?" He was staring out the window at Luther's half-completed dome. With the special five-pronged capping plate they had had flown in that morning, it looked like a...
A breast, said the ex-FBI man suddenly, putting his hand instinctively on one of Marge's. "It looks like a great big breast!"
Precisely, chuckled McNalty contentedly. "And that is the answer to our problems."
CHAPTER FOUR
HEADQUARTERS OF MORRISSON, REDUNDANT AND MORRISSON.
Phones were ringing, messengers were dashing in and out with files and folders, and Morris W. Morrisson sat in the middle of it all like a Turkish pasha, winking lecherously from time to time at his new chauffeur, the Swedish beauty queen who was also now functioning as his private secretary. In the comer of the room a computer hummed obsequiously, occasionally spitting out a pertinent IBM card. In another part of the room, the Chief Surgeon of the British College of Gynecology who had been flown in for an astronomical fee, huddled over a pile of papers together with a leading representative of the Pinkerton Detective Agency. Morrison watched with growing interest as the two men rose quietly and shook hands solemnly. Their faces bursting with barely suppressed excitement, they approached Morrison's desk like two knights reporting to their sovereign.
"Sir, we have it," came the clipped accents of the Englishman. "Miss MacTarmack's fertility chart!"
"Her fertile periods are written in red," added the detective.
"Outstanding, gentlemen," marvelled the lawyer. "How did you do it!"
"Intensive surveillance, sir, and pretty arduous, too, if you don't mind my saying so," explained the detective with visible pride. "For the past three months we've had a team in the basement of the girl's apartment building. They've managed to isolate the pipe which comes from Miss MacTarmack's toilet seat, and by examining the contents of the tube, we've been able... "
"Ugh!"
"My sentiments exactly, sir, but it was the only way. We were able to identify her monthly period by the presence of blood-soaked Tampax. I had to pay the men double time for this assignment, sir, which will naturally be reflected in your bill, since there were other things which came down the tube which... "
"I don't want to hear about it!" said Morrisson quickly. "Aren't you afraid someone will spot your men?"
"No problem, sir. They've identified themselves to the apartment super as special assistants from the White House working on a national security job. He's been very cooperative."
"And once we knew when her periods were taking place, we were able to coordinate this with the findings of the psychiatrist we've had following her," put in the British gynecologist. "She tends to be somewhat short-tempered during her monthlies which reinforces deductions made on the ah, Tampax front. Thus, we were able to predict her fertile periods with an accuracy of plus or minus three hours."
"And what does the shrink say?" muttered Morrisson. "Could he confirm my suspicion that she's frigid as an icebox?"
"Quite the opposite, sir. Of course, he hasn't been able to examine the patient firsthand, but his observations indicate a normal woman who is perhaps slightly repressed sexually or is sublimating her sexual instincts with her work. We know, of course, that she has lost her virginity... "
"Excuse me, but how do we know... " murmured Morrisson discreetly.
"Well, the Tampax, sir," explained the Englishman primly. "Virgins don't use them."
"Oh... and how do we know she isn't already screwing someone and taking precautions?"
"We sent a team in to check out her apartment," explained the detective. "And she ain't got any precautions! No pills, no diaphragms, no nothing. Plus, we've been bugging her phone, and she's got a couple of boyfriends, but everything seems pretty platonic. At least she hasn't done any loving since we put a trail on her."
Morris W. Morrisson studied the MacTarmack fertility chart on the desk before him, rubbing his hands together with satisfaction as the gynecologist and the detective quietly withdrew.
"Get me our Athens office," he said finally, turning to his blonde secretary. "We move on Wednesday." The girl looked at him blankly so Morrisson patted her thigh lustfully and dialed Athens himself.
* * *
"All right, let's go over it again," said Morrisson patiently, using a silk handkerchief to wipe the droplets of perspiration away from his brow. "Women are intellectually equal to me, right?"
"Is possible," said the confused young Greek." I have never meet one equal to me."
"Neither have I," agreed Morrisson, thinking primarily of his Swedish chauffeur. "But we don't have to believe it, Xenophon, we just have to memorize it, okay? Now, women are intellectually equal to men!"
"Women are intellectually equal to men," parroted the Greek sadly, stirring uncomfortably in his chair. For a moment, he thought seriously about getting out of this madhouse and fleeing back to the comparative sanity of the Reptile House of the Athens Zoo where he was Curator. Then he remembered that he was being paid two hundred dollars a day to cooperate and decided to stay where he was.
"Good. When I meet a woman, I want an intellectual relationship," prompted Morrisson eagerly.
"Really? When I meets woman, I want rip off her clothes and fuck her," marveled Xenophon, wondering how Americans could be so rich and so crazy at the same time. Morrisson sighed and used the silk handkerchief again.
"Mr. Pericledes, you must try to understand! The woman you are going to meet believes that women are equal to men! She wants a man to respect her as a human being, as a person and not merely lust after her as a sex object. This Zorba the Greek approach is never going to get you into bed with her!"
"Ah! Xenophon meditated on this perverse concept for a moment, finally understanding why American men have so much trouble with their women. In the tiny Peloponnesian village where he was born, a woman who announced that she was intellectually equal to an average billy goat would be thrashed severely by her husband. On the other hand, these Americans had promised to make him the richest curator of reptiles in the world if he managed to get this American madwoman pregnant so he swallowed his masculine pride and resolved to commit a few stock English phrases to memory.
"Miss MacTarmack," he recited, improving slightly upon Morrison's version. "I want intellect relationship wid you and don't give a damn about you big tits!"
The lawyer cleared his throat, wondering if they should abort the mission and send this imbecile back to the Greek Zoo before he made matters any worse. But that would be admitting defeat, and aside from his incredible thickness, Xenophon Pericledes was absolutely perfect for the job. After surveying all the bachelor reptile-house men and herpetologists in the world, Morrisson's agents had determined that Mr. Pericledes was stunningly handsome and possessed of a suave, lady-killing personality, the other two hundred candidates all being middle-aged married men with pot bellies. A Greek private detective agency determined that he had already acknowledged the paternity of six illegitimate children in the Athens district alone, answering any questions about the nature of his fertility. He was tall, black-haired and as well-muscled as the statue of Hermes in the Greek museum, and nearly any woman alive would have surrendered her chastity to him happily. But Lucy MacTarmack was a special case! She had to be handled with great precision or they would all be back to square one.
"Now, Xenophon, let's review the battle plans. There is a lecture in the evening by an expert in African salamanders, right? It cost us a pretty penny to fly him in. And you happen to have two tickets, and the lecture happens to be at your hotel. Are we clear so far?"
The Greek reptile expert smiled, revealing two bright rows of perfect teeth.
"Right. I make a tour of the zoo and meet Miss Mac... uh... "
"MacTarmack! Try and remember her name!" groaned Morrisson.
"MacTarmack, and I invite her to lecture. I pick her up in taxicab and we go to hotel and get wet... "
"Good, now if the street-cleaning truck is a few minutes late, what do you do?"
"I make her wait and go buy cigarettes."
"Good. Then what happens?"
"I take her to room to dry off. We talk about intellect relationship until I get door closed, and then I fuck her."
"Okay, now, you're going to be on your own and you'll have to remember your manners!" advised Morrisson seriously. "This lady will be very hard to seduce, and if you have trouble, what do you do?"
"Well, I hit her few times, and... "
"No, nooooooh," groaned the lawyer in anguish. "You cannot rape this lady in a downtown hotel room, man! We'll all end up in jail! It has to be handled quietly, don't you understand? Remember the pills!"
"Ah, yes, pills. If she no want fuck, I put pill in drink."
"Precisely. Then you wait five minutes after she has drunk her drink, and she will be in a semi-comatose state. Not unconscious, exactly, but drowsy enough for you to do your work. And she should be wearing nothing but a bathrobe at that point so it should be easy."
"It will be easy."
"Oh, and one other thing, Xenophon, between now and then, stay away from the ladies. I want you in top form for Wednesday night. Save those sperm for Miss MacTarmack."
"But... " the Greek looked somewhat crestfallen. "I have two days."
"Rest. Take long walks and cold showers."
"But I have never go two days without," he exclaimed miserably, looking at Morrison's Swedish secretary.
"Remember! Women are not sex objects, mere creatures to be lusted after. They are human beings with intellectual, emotional and artistic qualities equal to a man's." Morrisson quoted from one of the books on feminism he had been reading.
"And nice to fuck," added the Greek persistently, still looking at the Swedish chauffeur/secretary.
* * *
Lucy MacTarmack shuddered involuntarily as she released the squawking chicken into Homer's cage, reminding herself as she always did that this, too, was part of a zoo-keeper's life. Most reptiles, particularly large ones, would only eat live food, and Homer devoured a pair of healthy chickens a week, feathers and all. It was cruel but necessary, and the young biologist reminded herself that her favorite dinner of Kentucky Fried Chicken was based on the same jungle principle of eat or be eaten.
Homer, a twenty-six foot python from South America, raised his head curiously as the chicken retreated to a far comer of the cage. Chickens are not normally the brightest beasts in the animal world, but this particular hen took one look at the coiling three hundred pounds of cold-blooded reptile on the other side of the cage and understood immediately that she had laid her very last egg.
Homer studied the unhappy fowl for a moment and then turned his plated face to stare unblinkingly at Lucy, perhaps contemplating a change of diet. It is biologically difficult for even the largest of the constrictor family to devour an adult human being, but surprisingly few pythons have studied enough biology to be aware of this fact, and they tend to go on trying anyway whenever they get the chance. Dr. MacTarmack quickly shut the door of the cage before Homer pursued this line of thought to its logical conclusion and watched the action through a panel of thick glass. Denied this tempting human morsel, Homer resigned himself to the more familiar prospects of a chicken dinner while the hen squawked miserably, dashing up and down frantically as she tried to find a way out of her dilemma. This was an unfortunate strategy since snakes tend to be attracted by moving objects. Lucy winced as the serpent struck across the cage, its enormous mouth opening to reveal its razor-teeth, and the squawking abruptly died, as did the chicken.
The young biologist looked around her office, deciding that she had done her morning chores, and had not only to tidy her work area and await the arrival of the eminent Greek herpetologist who was making a tour of the Municipal Zoo this morning. Her workload was a little heavier now that Dr. Roberts had taken his extended leave of absence, but she was frankly grateful that he had decided to go away for awhile after his despicable assault on her virtue that day when Maxwell and Penelope had been preparing to mate. Of course, the nasty incident had not been entirely his fault, the girl realized, trying to be honest with herself. Men had been telling her for years that she had a magnificently exciting body, and when she had dashed half-naked into the office to take her scientific photographs, she had apparently tempted the usually gentle herpetologist beyond the limits of human endurance. She supposed it was not his fault, exactly, since he had merely yielded to the base instincts implanted in everyone for the purposes of ensuring the survival of the species, but why did all these men have to pick on her?
Then there was that monstrous male chauvinist pig, Morrison who wanted her to get pregnant so she would stand a better chance of inheriting money from some old relative she had never even met. Why was it that no one ever thought of her as a person, a bright, friendly, interesting female human being? For Doctor Roberts, she was a vagina to be plundered, and for Morrisson, she was a womb to be impregnated, and to the boys in the cafeteria, she was a pair of large and luscious breasts to be drooled over!
Damn, she said, as she straightened up the papers on her desk in preparation for the arrival of the Greek reptile curator. Why is that that every time I go out with a man and we start some fascinating conversation about books or films or something really cultural, he always has to ruin everything by trying to unzip my dress? Is that all men can think about?
The door to her office opened, startling the girl out of her gloomy meditation, and Lucy looked up to see the Director of the Zoo enter, smiling as usual. Behind him was the most beautiful man Dr. MacTarmack had ever laid eyes upon!
"Lucy, I'd like to introduce Dr. Xenophon Pericledes, who's your opposite number at the Athens Zoo. Dr. Pericledes, meet Dr. MacTarmack, our acting Curator of Reptiles, or Curatoress, I suppose I should say, since she's obviously quite a woman."
"Ah! Man, woman, we all scientists, no?" said Pericledes gallantly, bending to kiss Lucy's hand in the best European tradition. "Some of my best friends is women."
"Well, then you'll get along with our little Lucy," chuckled the Director patronizingly. "She's quite the women's libber, aren't you, Lucy?"
Miss MacTarmack did not respond to this slightly insulting banter since she was finding herself inexplicably choked up. Xenophon Pericledes had not yet released her hand, and she discovered that the two of them were staring deeply into one another's eyes. "Well, I can see that the two of you are going to have a lot of snake stories to swap so I'll be getting back to my office. Sorry I can't make that salamander lecture tonight, Dr. Pericledes, but there's a meeting of the American Zoological Society, and... "
"Is all right," muttered Xenophon, his eyes wandering lustfully over Lucy's lushly voluptuous young body. Zeus, he was thinking ecstatically. They pay me two hundred dollars a day to sleep with her? I pay them two hundred dollars! She is Aphrodite!
"I... I'm so happy you were able to visit us, Dr. Pericledes," Lucy finally managed to stammer, freeing her hand and feeling as if a thunderbolt had just struck her. Don't let yourself get interested in him, she warned herself cautiously, feeling her head spinning slightly. In another minute, he'll start grabbing your breasts or stick his hand up under your shirt. You've been warned about these European males!
"Pliz call me Xeno," said the handsome Greek smoothly. "I am interested in deep, meaningful relations, and titles we don't need."
"Oh... I feel exactly the same way," cried Lucy joyfully. "It's so silly, this doctor and professor business."
"Important is intellectual understanding, no?" Xenophon enlarged upon his theme, trying desperately to remember the phrases he had been up all night studying. "If people is interesting, what difference if man or woman?"
"Oh, that's... that's so profound!" thrilled the girl, taking his arm to lead him to the crocodile cage. "No wonder the early philosophers were always Greeks!"
She could not help but feel the impressive size of his muscle as she escorted him down the corridor which ran behind the row of reptile enclosures, but she instructed herself severely that she was behaving like a giddy teenage girl at the junior prom. This is obviously a very serious man, and he thinks of me as a fellow scientist, not a woman, she told herself primly. But he does have marvelous muscles!
"This is our Crocodylus robustus," she pointed out proudly. "It's a female and the only one in the Western Hemisphere!"
"What difference if female crocodile or male crocodile?" protested Xenophon, still clinging doggedly to the subject. "If good crocodile, all that counts!"
"Well, female crocodiles do tend to be a little bigger and somewhat fiercer," Lucy pointed out, never before having considered the possibility that feminism could be applied to cold-blooded vertebrates. "But you're absolutely right!"
* * *
This could be the beginning of a very beautiful relationship, Lucy told herself as she covertly examined the noble Greek profile of the handsome reptile curator who sat beside her in the taxi. Imagine, our very first date, and we're going to a lecture on African salamanders! Most men would want to go dancing or invite me to a seductive dinner with lots of wine, but Xeno is so serious! And his ideas about men and women are so modem! Obviously, he's interested in me, but he knows how to control his emotions. First, we'll see if we're right for each other intellectually, and then, after we've become good friends, we can think about sex. Probably taking me to bed hasn't even entered his mind yet. A man like him can have all the cheap silly women he wants. He's obviously tired of mere physical love and wants a deep, profound relationship with a female human being.
On the other side of the back seat, Xenophon Pericledes was also engaged in ponderous meditation, exercising all of what little self-control he possessed in an effort to keep his hands off the intensely exciting woman beside him. The light was poor, but his eyes kept twitching compulsively to the left as he surveyed her lushly tempting figure, particularly the roundly tantalizing half-moons of her buttocks, the outlines of which were clearly visible beneath her short skirt. Like many Greeks, Xenophon found a woman's behind to be the most stimulating part of her person, and despite the gratifying sumptuousness of her breasts, Lucy was the proud possessor of the neatest little ass west of the Acropolis. The knowledge that her buttocks would soon be nakedly revealed to him, along with the rest of her lust-inciting body, nearly drove him to distraction, but he struggled powerfully to remember Mr. Morrisson's instructions. Lucy was quite clearly different from the women he had known in Europe, and he realized that he did not have an inkling of how to handle her. The safest course of action was to follow the lawyer's directions to the letter and hope for the best.
"Ah, here is hotel," he commented, slipping the driver a ten dollar bill. The taxi maneuvered around a large street-cleaning truck which was parked incongruously by the curb in front of the hotel. In the cab of the truck sat Morris W. Morrisson, and next to him behind the wheel was his Swedish chauffeur/secretary who had been made an assistant vice-president earlier that afternoon for meritorious services rendered to Mr. Morrisson on a waterbed in his downtown apartment. The Swedish girl turned the key over and started the engine as soon as Dr. Pericledes stepped out of the cab and held the door for the lovely Dr. MacTarmack. The cab door shut as soon as the girl was on her feet, and the cabbie spun away on another call.
"Go!" barked Morrisson, watching as the young couple paused for a moment on the curb while Xenophon drew the attention of his lovely companion to the attractiveness of the city skyline. The street-cleaning vehicle lurched forward, its enormous circular brushes churning on the dry pavement, and as soon as the Swedish girl brought the truck alongside Xenophon and his date, Morrisson punched the button on the dashboard which activated the jets. The vehicle had been specially altered for the occasion, and high-powered jets of water streamed out of the side, catching the doorman of the Ashmount Hotel, several pedestrians, a newsstand and the two herpetologists.
"Oh, God, what's happening?" screamed Lucy in fright as great bellows of water gushed in her direction, soaking her to the skin. For a moment, there was water all around them, splashing and surging from all directions, and the girl clung to her escort in fear and discomfort.
"Oh, most stupid man!" shouted Xenophon, his supply of curse-words in English being severely limited. "You have done us most bad!"
"That's the most incredible thing I have ever seen!" declared Miss MacTarmack, absolutely drenched with cold water as the street-cleaning vehicle disappeared around a comer, its jets still pouring out gallons of water in all directions. "I'm going to write to the mayor!"
"This city gets crazier by the day," commented the doorman morosely, the water squeaking in his shoes. The other pedestrians who had been soaked were all standing at the curb, screaming for taxis.
"Oh, damn!" Lucy found herself filled with a crushing sense of disappointment. "It would have been so much fun to hear that lecture on African salamanders, but if we stand here on the street another moment, the two of us are going to catch our death of cold. What do we do now?"
"I have bathrobe in my room," offered Xenophon, shivering a little. "You stay here and I go get."
"Wait, I'll come with you." Lucy's water-soaked blouse had become almost completely transparent, and she was desperately anxious to get off the street before some passing male saw her and an embarrassing situation developed.
"Oh," the Greek paused as if this idea had not occurred to him. "But to go to a man's room in hotel... " He even managed to blush a little.
"Oh, aren't you silly!" said Lucy, taking his arm. "Xeno, you're so old-fashioned! Obviously, this is an emergency, and no one's going to think a thing about it. How fortunate that you happen to be staying at this hotel! Come on, dear, I'm freezing."
They did draw a few curious stares as Xenophon led the shivering young woman up to the luxurious room which Morrisson had rented for him, particularly since every enticing curve and indentation of Lucy's splendid body was revealed through her clinging wet clothes, and the girl breathed a sigh of relief when the bedroom door closed behind her. Xenophon immediately swung open his closet door and produced two light cotton bathrobes, and the girl gratefully accepted one and retreated to the bathroom, dully wondering why a man would bother bringing two bathrobes along on a trip.
Absolutely quivering with cold, she peeled off her water-drenched garments, skirt, blouse, brassiere and panties, hanging them over the edge of the bathtub to dry. It occurred to her now for the first time that she was more or less compelled to wait in Xeno's room until all the moisture had evaporated from her clothing, and she wondered vaguely if the Greek visitor would seize the opportunity to make a pass at her. Grimly, she recalled how violent Dr. Roberts had become that day when he had accidentally viewed her voluptuous figure, and she nervously pulled the bathrobe tight around her neck. Unfortunately, there were no buttons, merely a cord around the waist, and it was difficult to keep the thin material from separating and revealing forbidden portions of her deeply mature young breasts.
Well, it's no worse than one of those sexy evening gowns, she decided, wistfully wishing that the bathrobe had been made out of heavier cloth, since if she chanced to stand between Xeno and the light, her Greek escort would be able to see right through this frail cloth. It was also a little short, barely covering her taut little buttocks, and she would have to be careful about bending over or crossing her legs. Well, she decided, you'll just have to make the best of it.
And besides, Xeno is such a perfect gentleman!
Meanwhile, the Greek seducer had quickly shed his clothes and slipped into the other bathrobe, leaving his drenched garments where they fell on the floor in his haste to get drinks mixed before Lucy emerged from the bathroom. He poured healthy doses of brandy into two brandy snifters, dropped one of Mr. Morrisson's pills into one and then stabbed at it furiously until it dissolved.
"Ah! You are there!" he cried a little guiltily as she swept out of the bathroom in a cloud of steam, her high, widely-spaced breasts jiggling lusciously beneath the thin bathrobe as she walked toward him with unconscious sensuality. She looked to Xenophon like the ancient Greek goddess of love making one of her periodic house calls to earth from Mount Olympus, and he felt his experienced cock rearing up like a stallion beneath his bathrobe. "I have brandy for not catch cold!" he announced, turning to one side to conceal his growing erection.
"Why Xeno, you really come prepared!" she laughed musically. "But your things will never dry that way! Here, let me hang them up."
She blushed a little as she scooped up his soaking-wet jockey shorts off the rug, forgetting for an instant that as the bathrobe gaped open in the front, she was carelessly revealing the richly rounded mounds of her breasts to his lust-widened eyes. Xeno's cock climbed another inch, and he readjusted his bathrobe quickly, lest the rigid rod of flesh escape from confinement. Then Lucy made her major tactical error of the evening by turning around and bending over again to pick up his soggy shirt, accidentally exposing the smoothly curved surfaces of her buttocks. Xenophon felt his head swimming, and he quickly reached out to steady his nerves with a brandy. It tasted good, and he finished the drink in one gulp.
This was Xeno's major strategic error of the evening. It was the wrong drink.
CHAPTER FIVE
"Shit!" said Xenophon in his native Greek, sinking weakly down onto the edge of the bed, his head whirling as the drug penetrated his blood stream. "I don't feel so good. "
"Xeno!" his redheaded companion cried in alarm, bending over him solicitously and stroking his cheek with concern. "Speak English, dear, I can't understand you."
"What?" muttered Xenophon thickly, tumbling over sideways on the bed, forgetting what little English he knew as Morrisson's drug numbed his brain cells. Another woman would have gone shrieking for a doctor, but Lucy MacTarmack did have her Ph.D. in biology, and knew enough about the human organism to make a few quick diagnostic tests. She took his pulse rate and found it normal, noting that his eyes were somewhat dilated but showing no signs of pathology. There was the smell of brandy on his breath and his glass was empty, but one gulp of alcohol could hardly have reduced him to this state. Or had he had more than one gulp? He did not seem to have a fever and as nearly as she could determine, his blood pressure was normal. In short, he was not sick, merely half-conscious, and drunkenness was the most obvious diagnosis. Had he been drinking to work up courage for their date?
"Xeno!" she asked him firmly. "Have you been drinking?"
"Women are intellectually equal... " he murmured thickly, trying to open one eye and failing.
"Equal to what?"
"Just equal... " His voice was slurred and weak, and Lucy felt a wave of tenderness sweeping over her. Most men were so roughly aggressive with her that it was a relief to be with a man she could mother. She was now convinced that the Greek herpetologist was a terribly shy man who had been knocking back brandy all evening to steel his nerves for their date, and the shock of being doused with water and then taking another quick drink had been too much for his system. He would be all right in the morning, but she would nurse him through the night just to be sure that he did not become seriously ill. Of course, the hotel clerk would place some lurid interpretation on her spending the night in a man's room, but no truly liberated woman should care what a hotel clerk thought of her behavior. First she would make Xeno comfortable.
Her hands trembling a little, she unfastened the knot in his bathrobe in order to remove it, trying to be cool and professional about the operation, but somewhat nervous over undressing an adult male, even if he was nearly unconscious. She opened the bathrobe, her eyes stealing automatically to the half-swollen shaft of his penis, emerging lewdly from the bushy black hair on his loins. Dragging her widened eyes away from his blood-hardened erection with an act of willpower, she rolled him over onto his stomach and pulled the robe off him completely, involuntarily remarking to herself how well-formed his athletic young body was. Then she covered him lovingly with a blanket, and stepped back to survey her work with satisfaction. As far as she could tell, Xeno had drifted off into a profound sleep.
Listlessly, she wandered around the hotel room, looking for something to do to pass the time. Xenophon had a few books in his suitcase, but they were all in Greek. There was nothing on the television she wanted to see. She drank the brandy he had poured for her and settled down to read a year-old National Geographic some previous tenant of the room had left behind, carelessly scanning a boring article about cannibals in East Borneo while she consumed a second brandy. An hour passed with incredible slowness, during which Xeno mumbled occasionally in Greek and Lucy drank a third, and then a fourth glass of brandy. Beginning to feel a little thick-headed herself, she tried to make herself comfortable for the night on the couch, but it was too narrow and without covers she felt chilly and exposed, still wearing only the skimpy cotton bathrobe.
Why not go to bed? There was certainly no point in worrying about what other people thought since the hotel personnel must already be assuming the worst. And there was nothing to be feared from Xeno since the Greek herpetologist was hardly in any condition to become amorous. And the bed was plenty big enough for two. Having made up her mind, the young scientist drained her brandy glass and turned out the lights, realizing with shock that she was quite delightfully drunk, and feeling a slight tingle of excitement over the idea of going to bed with a naked man, even though the gentleman in question was out cold. Feeling exceptionally daring, she stripped off her bathrobe and crept nakedly between the sheets next to Xeno's unconscious figure.
Except that Xeno was not unconscious. He was feeling numb and his mind was in a state of total confusion, and when he felt the bed squeak under Lucy's weight, he set what little remained of his intelligence to work, trying to figure out where he was and who was in bed with him.
"Would you be kind enough to tell me your name?" he inquired discreetly in Greek, hoping that the lady, whoever she was, would not be upset by the fact that he had unaccountedly forgotten who she was. The room was in shadows and he could see nothing beyond the familiar and tempting shape of a woman's naked body stretched out by his side.
"Poor Xeno," came the giggle in response to his question. The girl's voice was low and throaty as she turned on her side with her back to him, the soft warm moons of her buttocks brushing carelessly against his hand. What was he waiting for? Did it make any difference what the girl's name was? There was only one reason why they would find themselves in bed together. Or had they already done it? He strained his mind, trying to recall, but the pill he'd accidentally swallowed had introduced partial amnesia in his head, and the handsome young Greek could not remember what he had been doing recently, or with whom. Finding to his immense relief that he was not paralyzed, he quietly moved his hand down beneath the sheet and felt for his penis, determining that it was half-erected and quivering lustfully. Nor did it feel as if it had been used thus far this evening, a situation he would have to remedy immediately. If word ever escaped that he, Xenophon Pericledes, had spent the night with a woman and failed, to make violent love to her, the whole Acropolis would rock with lascivious laughter.
Lucy MacTarmack had drifted off into a troubled, brandy-washed sleep, but she stirred vaguely in her slumber as she felt the man's hand come to rest lewdly on her thigh. He's still sound asleep, she warned herself. Don't move or you'll wake him up, and it's better that he sleep.
But if Xeno were sleeping, he was having an exceedingly strange dream. The man moved closer, his lips running softly over the milk-white softness of her shoulders, and Lucy took a deep breath, trying to decide what she ought to do. Awake or asleep, he was certainly getting amorous, and although she had grown very, very fond of him, it seemed a bit premature to let herself go quite so quickly. The young woman had never taken a vow of chastity but her previous sexual experiences had been limited to some uncomfortable sessions in the back seats of cars during her college days. Since then she had been saving herself for the right man, and Xeno looked like he had all the qualifications, but other than the fact that he was a reptile curator who believed profoundly in women's lib, she knew hardly anything about him.
"Xeno, darling, I think... I think we ought to talk if you're feeling better... " she tried to reason with him, but the demented Greek merely took the opportunity to slip his hand under one arm and place it fully on the delectable softness of one succulent breast.
"I love you!" Xenophon murmured affectionately, still completely fogged over the identity of his bedmate, but deciding that a few loving words would help soften her up. The breast he held in his lusting hand was large and supple, and he toyed delightedly with the girl's resilient flesh, tweaking her tiny nipple between his fingers until he felt the little brown button respond by springing into life.
"Good Heavens!" Hearing him speaking Greek, Lucy realized that he still had no idea who she was and the idea of having a love session with a man under those circumstances upset her. Peeling his fingers off of the trembling mound of her breast, she turned over to face him, determined to try to make him wake up enough at least to remember her name. Unfortunately, the moment she rolled on her back, Xeno impatiently pushed down the covers and threw one leg over her finely-tapered thighs and another arm across her waist. His bronzed athletic body was lying close beside her now, and the girl could feel the man's pulsating cock pressed tightly against the soft vulnerable flesh of her thighs. His penis was now fully extended and hard, and Lucy realized with a strange shiver that it had been her enticing young body which had aroused him to this peak of rigidity. What difference did it make whether or not he knew her name? She was weakening fast and she knew it.
Operating in a kind of drugged dream, Xeno raised himself up over the girl, now slightly maddened by the shimmer of the faint light across the magnificent peaks of her pale-fleshed breasts. Quickly dropping his head before she could block him, he fastened his lips greedily over one swollen nipple and sucked it voraciously up into his mouth, listening to the woman making tiny bird-like cries which were somewhere in a neutral territory between protest and joy.
Seeing that he was successfully turning her on, the experienced Greek lover instinctively applied even more pressure, running his lips wickedly down into the tempting valley between her sumptuous breasts. She gasped gratifyingly as he worked his lecherous way down over the flat quivering plain of her stomach, and the Greek felt her restraining hands on his head as he tried to continue his explorations into the erotic jungle of her soft reddish pubic hair.
"No, Xeno, please, not there," she begged, wiggling unsuccessfully to avoid letting the man touch his searing lips to the most intimate part of her body. "We've just met!"
"Xenophon Pericledes at your service, Madam," the drugged Greek muttered uncomprehendingly, still too confused to understand a word of what the American girl was saying. While she pondered his hellenic syntax, he slid his thumbs lasciviously into the sweet warm tangle of her pubic hair, and dropped his head to send his tongue darting like a lizard into the moistly flowering slit of her vagina.
"Oh God," Lucy cried, trying to remember to keep her voice down lest someone hear her groaning and call the police. A scandal was the last thing she wanted, but her body twitched spasmodically as Xeno's darting tongue slashed into electrifying contact with the soft little bud of her tender clitoris. As she twitched, Xenophon took the opportunity to push her unwilling legs even farther apart, giving him total access to the sweet mysteries of her loins, as he slid his palms flat against the fleshy surfaces of her thighs to bare the moist pink flesh of her delicious vagina.
The girl lay still except for an occasional involuntary twitch, and Xenophon grinned mercilessly to himself as he moved in for the kill. To his confused, drug-filled brain, the identity of this fair stranger was still a mystery, but no woman in Greece could resist this kind of tongue lashing for long. Xenophon had personally experimented upon several hundred women in Athens, Salonika and Larisa, and the result had always been the same. They struggled, they pleaded, they groaned and in the end they always yielded!
Lucy jerked helplessly, suppressing a long heartfelt moan as she felt Xeno's thumbs torturously drawing apart the moist hair-fringed lips of her cunt until the entrance to her naked vagina was totally exposed to his probing tongue. She sighed again deeply as he licked his obscene way into her palpitating little cunt, hardly able to believe that such a depraved degenerate business could bring her so much wicked pleasure. Her buttocks began to grind remorselessly down into the mattress as she tried to escape this maddened assault upon her defenseless loins, but escape was impossible and... and, the truth of the matter was that she was not struggling quite as hard as she might have. Lucy had not yet admitted it to herself, but her body had started to surrender the moment his searching fingers had found their way to the turgid tips of her breast. She had been suppressing her lusts and violent sexual passions for far too long, and the moment the Greek had touched her, a fire had begun to smoulder deep in her loins.
But why did he have to go about it in this bizarre unnatural way? It was humiliating and embarrassing to be pinned to the bed like this, to have her helplessly naked cunt licked and tickled like an animal. All right, she was ready! Why didn't he take her in the normal way?
"Please, Xeno," she begged him piteously. "Come on top of me now. It's okay, dear."
But the drug-maddened Greek did not seem to be listening, or comprehending at the moment, and Lucy felt the lewd flames of forbidden passion shoot higher and higher within her ravaged loins until she knew she could stand it no more. Xeno's mouth was slavering into her gaping cunt now with a blind Greek fury, sucking the tiny glistening jewel of her clitoris into his mouth and worrying it wickedly with his tongue until she feared she was going to lose her mind. What more did he want? How could her surrender be more abject, more complete?
__ "Please, Xeno," she beseeched him, hearing her own voice crack with emotion. "Oh, honey, fuck me, don't you understand? I need it now!"
Tears of shame welled up in her eyes as she imagined the depraved picture she must be making, stretched out spread-eagled on the hotel mattress, caressing her lust-swollen breasts with her hands until her taut brown nipples felt as if they were going to pop. Her voluptuous young body was in perpetual motion now and the room was filled with the base vile sounds from between her lasciviously outstretched legs as Xeno licked her unprotected pussy into a lather. She had never dreamed that it was possible for a man to humiliate her like this, her, a leading light in the Sisters of Science! Oh God, how had she ever let herself be trapped into this ridiculous position, lying submissively beneath a temporarily demented Greek reptile curator while he thrust his long spear-like tongue up into the quivering tunnel of her unused little vagina? She tried to blame it on the excessive amount of brandy she had consumed but what was left of her scientific mentality reminded her that the liquor had not destroyed her conscience, but merely lowered her resistance somewhat. She was a little drunk, perhaps, but not that drunk!
Meanwhile, Xeno's condition was getting slightly worse instead of better. As his own raging lust increased, his blood circulation naturally soared, having the effect of bringing even more of the mind destroying drug to his frontal lobes. He had given up even trying to decide who the owner of this lovely cunt was, as distorted fantasies of sexual fulfillment bubbled uncontrollably through his brain. Mumbling lewdly to himself, he pushed Lucy's legs up into the air, sliding his hands down to seize the churning cheeks of her buttocks. Pulling them apart, he bared the whole flat plane of her pelvis to his lustful vision, catching sight of the tight little puckered hole of her anus nestled snugly beneath the aperture of her saliva-wet cunt.
Something fairly fundamental snapped in the Greek zoo-keeper's already weakened mind, and his tongue flashed out instinctively, searing its way the length of her loins into the tempting elastic circle of her anus.
"Aaaaaaagggggghhhhhh!" the girl shrieked, slapping her hand over her mouth to keep from making too much noise. "No Xeno, not there, baby! Oh, please, can't you do it the normal way? Not even animals do what you're doing!"
If Xeno understood this bit of biological moralizing, he gave no sign of it, chuckling lewdly as he stabbed a second time into the tight fleshy ring. He was really on fire now, and the thought of yielding to an old Greek temptation shook him to the core of his being. He struggled against it briefly, knowing in advance that his conscience always lost this particularly perverted temptation and feeling the long rigid shaft of his cock throbbing wildly. He had to have it!
For a man whose brain was burdened with a thought-destroying drug, Xenophon moved with exceptional speed, throwing himself unexpectedly off of Lucy's passionately trembling body, and then quickly gathering her up in his muscular arms and rolling her firmly over on her side on the bed so that she was curled up in a ball with the shining half-moons of her vulnerable buttocks facing him. Before the redheaded girl could react, he dropped his body heavily down behind her and fastened his arms around her waist so that they lay close together like two spoons. His frantically quivering penis was lodged indecently in the temptingly moist furrow of her buttocks, and the Greek nearly groaned with anticipated joy. She was trapped!
Freeing one hand, he took the cannon-like pole of his penis and ran it lewdly up and down along the wet quivering crevice of her cunt, passing the bulbous meaty tip over the softly yielding flesh of her anus. Her delicious young body jerked at this bizarre, unnatural contact but the girl was still passive and resigning, lying weakly in his arms, apparently not yet aware of the monstrous perversion he intended to inflict upon her. Then he ran his middle finger down the same forbidden path, feeling her hips answering him gratefully as he massaged the tiny quaking organ of her clitoris. She murmured a little unhappily as he passed the tip of his finger directly over the sensitive pink opening to her rectum, but made no attempt to break away or bring an end to this obscene love-play.
Lucy gasped, realizing that she had never before in her life understood what it meant to be genuinely turned on by the carnal presence of a man's body. True, he was acting a little strangely, differently than she would have expected a lover to behave, but after all, Xeno was a foreigner, and different nationalities presumably had different ways of doing those things. A girlfriend in the Sisterhood of Science had once explained to her that Frenchmen were inordinately fond of oral love, convincing Lucy to steer clear of Frenchmen, and there had been some kind of joke over what Greeks were supposed to enjoy doing, but she had not quite understood it, even though some of the more experienced Sisters of Science had snickered knowingly, and she had been too embarrassed to ask for an explanation. She assumed that Xeno was going to take her from behind, and although this would not have been her preferred way to begin the deep meaningful intellectual experience they were destined to share together, perhaps this was the Greek way of doing things. All she really knew for sure was the fact that her unused, inexperienced little vagina was practically crying to be filled with the man's rampant cock. She had felt vague stirrings of lust before, but never anything like this and the walls of her unfilled cunt were flexing and expanding with unquenchable desire.
"Come on, Xeno," she begged him, as his outstretched middle finger continued to toy with the tightly clenched oval of her anal orifice. "You can do it now, my lover! I'm ready!"
Since she seemed to have difficulty communicating linguistically with Xeno recently, Lucy ground her buttocks back against him lasciviously, pressing the flaccid nether spheres desirously into his loins, trembling as she felt the huge rigidity of his male member crushing into the furrow between her widespread ass-cheeks.
This movement of hot flesh against flesh had the effect of removing any last doubts in Xenophon's mind. So she wanted it, did she? Well, by God, she wasn't going to have to wait much longer, as far as he was concerned! The soft heat radiating from her anus was incredibly powerful and it seemed to draw his cock in as he maneuvered the pulsating instrument into position, placing the mighty scarlet glans lewdly against the tiny resisting entrance to her rectum.
A horrible suspicion began to filter into Lucy's mind. You don't suppose... He's just confused from the brandy... or is this what the Sisters of Science were talking about?
Then, without warning, Xenophon shoved forward with all his might and Lucy buried her face in the pillow to keep from screaming. Whatever else happened, she must not let loose and start shouting. Municipal employees who became involved in scandals of the flesh were inevitably discharged from their jobs. But Xenophon's rampant spear of hardened flesh had just bull-dozed its lascivious way into the delicate confines of her body and she groaned in horrible anguish, feeling the long thick mass of rigid male hardness fight its way into the vainly resisting channel of her rectum. So this was what the Greek joke had been about!
"No! No, Xeno, not there, please!" she begged him, still futilely hoping that an unfortunate error had been made which would be corrected as soon as the Greek realized that he had taken a wrong turn at the last crossroads. But if there had been a mistake, Xeno showed no evidence of being aware of the fact, and digging his fingers viciously into the softly yielding flesh of her thighs, he thrust his blood-engorged cock another wicked inch up into her tortured rectum.
"Nooooooooohhhhh!!!!!" she moaned in agony as the pain seemed to fill her entire body. She was certain that this lewdly unnatural assault was destined to rend her rectum permanently, stretching her fragile nether passage completely out of shape. She wiggled frantically, but the man was easily ten times too strong for her, and she had no leverage, nothing to grab hold of but the flexible mattress. Xenophone grunted with savage joy, pushing himself even further into her suffering rectum and virtually paralyzing her with discomfort.
"Uggggghhhhhh!" she grunted, feeling the virginal pink flesh of her anus stretching close to the bursting point as the man inexorably forced his brutal way deeper into her aching belly. She had never before appreciated precisely how long and hard a man's cock could be! And now he seemed to have penetrated her helpless rectum to the hilt, pushing his punishing rod into the darkly mysterious tunnel until his sperm-filled balls slapped lewdly against the insides of her thighs. She found herself gasping desperately for breath, feeling his elongated penis quaking and pulsating within her as if it were a time bomb about to explode. Virtually out of her mind with pain and humiliation, the panting redhead made one last desperate attempt to escape, falling back with a sob as Xeno's fingers dug fiercely into her skin. He obviously had no intentions of letting her escape from him now and the man was lasciviously rocking his body back and forth as he tried to widen the tightly clenched rectal opening.
Lucy collapsed in despair, feeling that she had somehow been dragged to the bottom of the barrel, and knowing that she would never be the same again after this experience. How could she ever have been so mistaken about a man? In her mind, she had already decided that Xenophon Pericledes would turn out to be the man of her dreams. Instead he had turned out to be a monstrously perverted sex criminal! And he had her pinned to the bed, so that she could not escape. She could hear him behind her, mumbling and chuckling in drunken Greek as he flexed the savagely invading shaft of his penis. Then he began to thrust slowly in and out of her, being very cautious despite his drug-addled brain not to withdraw his bulky cock all the way from the suffering channel of her anus. Sobbing with humiliation, Lucy remembered how a few minutes before in a burst of unbridled passion, she had begged Xeno to fuck her, using the obscene word aloud for the first time in her life. Well, you're getting what you asked for, she told herself grimly, even if it isn't precisely what you had in mind. You 'll know better the next time you jump naked into bed with a complete stranger!
"Ugh," she grunted in discomfort as the Greek probed extra-deep, stabbing high into the moist mysteries of her widely-stretched anus, thinking that it was a physical miracle that the man had successfully penetrated this virginal opening at all with his enormous organ. She would never have believed it possible, but the proof was thrust wickedly at least seven inches up into her dilated rectal passage. The truth of the matter was that the pain had passed with surprising quickness, yielding to a vague sensation of discomfort which was disappearing in turn. Moisture was gathering in the violated depths of her body, lubricating Xeno's pistoning cock, and gradually she could detect a great warm feeling growing in her loins. Her tiny brown nipples were erected again, for some reason, and she caught her hips in the act of twitching as the energetic Greek pummeled her straining little anus. Good God, what's happening to me? she asked herself in dismay, sensing a strange tingling sensation beginning to spread insidiously throughout her body.
To anyone else, the answer to Lucy's naive question would have been tolerably obvious. The girl's body was trembling with long-suppressed excitement, her voluptuous breasts shaking wildly as Xeno pounded into her with one fierce pile-driving blow after another. She was scarcely conscious of the fact, but her hips were rocking lasciviously backward and forward as the man's virile hardness needled ruthlessly in and out of her inflamed rectum. Without realizing it, she had climbed back up to the heights of wild ecstasy! Somehow the very perversity of this anal rape had stimulated something inside of her, and she was beginning to react like a madwoman.
A fantasy floated into her mind, and she saw herself naked on an enormous bed surrounded by three Xeno's. They were fucking her in every possible way, and all at once, in her mouth, her ass and her empty cunt. And suddenly she was cum... mmmmm... ming.
"Oooooo... aaaaaaa... ggggggg!!!" the scream came out, high-pitched and clear as the spasm swept massively over her.
Xeno could feel the cum seize the girl's lush over-stimulated body, the sudden tightening of her anal flesh clenching his taut penis like a vise. Skewering her with all the strength in his body, he felt the sperm gathering in his own heavy balls, bubbling furiously out the long quivering shaft of his cock and spurting vilely into the soft battery depths of her rectum. It had never been quite this good for the Greek, and he groaned incoherently, reminding himself to determine this young woman's name at the earliest opportunity.
Whoever she was, the lust-stricken creature he held in his arms seemed to have gone completely out of her mind. He could feel her anal passage being flooded with the white-hot fluid of his semen, and her rectal muscles seemed to be caressing his wildly ejaculating cock like a thousand tiny fingers as her voluptuous young body strained under the lewd impact of her orgasm.
Then suddenly, the woman's muscles all seemed to go limp and weak as if the plug had been pulled out. She collapsed into a pillow, weeping gently and Xenophon eased his slowly deflating organ out of her still quivering anus with a sigh of deep relief.
It was over, and Xeno felt his brain orbiting his body like a satellite, hesitate for a moment, and then fly off into space. By the time the weeping girl pulled her anguished body out from between the cum-soaked sheets, and headed for the sanctuary of the bathroom, he was out like a light.
* * *
"She was observed leaving the hotel shortly after midnight," reported the private detective in a matter-of-fact voice. "Her cheeks were tear-stained and her clothing was still damp."
"Hmmmmm, apparently our boy didn't have to use the pill on her," mused Morrisson contentedly walking down the hotel corridor towards Xeno's room. "Otherwise, she'd just be waking up now. Wonder why she was crying?"
"Maybe our lover-boy couldn't rise to the occasion," suggested the detective.
"T'ain't likely. That girl could get an erection out of a Greek statue!" affirmed the lawyer confidently. "Look, have your man continue the surveillance. I want to know the moment she discovers that she's pregnant. Ah, here's the room."
The door was unlocked, and Morris W. Morrisson pushed his way in without bothering to knock, finding Xenophon sitting nakedly on the edge of the bed, rubbing his eyes sleepily while he tried to recollect the events of the previous evening. At the moment, he was a very confused Greek.
"Woman is intellectually equal... " he began identifying Morrisson, the private detective and Morrisson's Swedish chauffeur/secretary/vice president.
"You can forget that now," snapped the executive. "Give us a report, man! Did you screw her?"
"Her?" Vague memories stirred in Xeno's benumbed brain. He had been assigned to have sexual intercourse with someone. But why?
"Lucy MacTarmack? Wake up, man! Did you get it in there?"
"Ah! I remember," said Xeno joyfully, as he recalled his instructions about getting the redheaded woman pregnant. Then the smile faded abruptly as his memories of what had actually happened became somewhat clearer. "Yes... I... uh... got it in... there," he mumbled.
"Well, why so glum, man?" laughed Morrisson jubilantly as he patted Xeno's naked shoulder. "With a little bit of luck, you could be a father in nine months, and a rich one too."
"I do not think I be father this time," he murmured uncomfortably, feeling the hot gaze of the Swedish woman on his finely muscled young body.
"Why?" the smile froze on Morrisson's face. "I thought you got it in!"
"Well... I... is very dark at night... not see too good... "
"Pericledes, what are you trying to tell us?" muttered the lawyer, suddenly feeling vaguely uncomfortable.
"Is little mistake... two holes very close together... I is confused and... "
"What is he trying to say?" anguished Morrisson.
"Oh Christ, why did we have to pick a Greek?" groaned the private detective. The Swedish Chauffeur/secretary/vice president grinned lasciviously at Xeno, shaking her hips slightly as the notion excited her.
"You don't mean?"
"Is true," confessed Xeno unhappily.
"Oh sweet suffering Christ!" agonized the lawyer, taking his head in his hands and facing the hotel room in some agitation. "And it won't be too long before that chick puts two and two together and realizes that we're after her! This leaves us no choice but Emergency Plan A?"
"Plan A?" echoed the detective unhappily. "That's a little extreme, isn't it? I mean we could all wind up in jail... " 'There's no choice. She'll be on her guard, now. We'll have to do it the hard way!"
"Next time, I be most careful... " Xeno was attempting to reassure the lawyer, following him around the room with the sheet draped around his waist, and looking like a Greek statue suddenly turned into flesh and blood.
"You... you pervert!" shouted the lawyer angrily. "You're off the job!" Xeno backed away, looking hurt while Morrisson turned to his secretary. "Honey, get this idiot packed and on the first plane to Athens!" he ordered severely. "I want him out of the country in case she tries to file charges against him."
The Swedish woman nodded as the lawyer stormed out of the room, his mind already whirling with the devious mechanisms of Emergency Plan A. The door slammed as the private detective followed his employer into the hall, leaving Morrisson's chauffeur/secretary/vice-president alone with the bewildered Greek.
"I... I... never to again," groaned Xeno miserably as the Swedish girl deftly undid the buttons on her blouse. "I have failure!"
"You do one more time, okay?" came the throaty voice of the blonde woman. "Diss Morrisson, he only know one trick."
"Huh?" the Greek looked up in amazement as the Swedish girl quickly dispensed with the last of her clothing and strode sensuously toward him, taking the sheet away and dropping it on the floor between them.
"Woman is intellectually equal to man!" Xeno proclaimed happily as he ran his fingers over the girl's smoothly yielding flanks, pulling her eagerly toward the bed.
"Ja!" said the two-time winner of the Miss Sweden beauty contest. "OH ja!"
CHAPTER SIX
"Hey Luther, when ya gonna get it up?" called the leader of the commune, a tall stocky man who had been a project officer for the Department of Agriculture before dropping out of society to lead his personal band of chosen people into the promised land.
"Listen, Frank, I got it up," explained Luther with quiet professional pride. "You missed the big erection while you were zonked on acid."
"Oh wow! You mean it's up? So fast?"
"No sweat, baby. We got the parts we needed and the boys all gave me a had with screwing the joints. We're getting the interior fixed up now, and you can move in whenever you want."
"Fantastic!" marveled the hippie leader, running his hands through his long, disorderly hair. "I didn't know you could get it knocked up that fast. In fact, you told me it would take a month."
The two men were conferring in the shack used by the commune as their headquarters while waiting for the dome to be completed. His day's work over with, Luther was relaxing with his customary reefer, and the male members of the commune were coming back tired from their work in the fields or on the construction team. A trio of young women, all naked to the waist, were preparing their communal dinner of bean soup. The commune was getting a little tired of bean soup, but they had over-planted on beans, and the crop had to be used up somehow. Luther watched a droplet of sweat roll down across the chest of one of the cooks, linger hesitatingly on the tip of her nipple and then fall unnoticed into the soup as he chatted with the hippie leader.
"It would have taken a month if I'd had to scrounge for parts, or improvise things, but with my financial managers taking care of my supply problems... "
"Your what?"
"My financial managers. I just tell 'em what I need, and they have it flown in for me by helicopter... "
"Damn, I saw that chopper, but I thought it was just the fuzz looking for our marijuana crop again. They were bringing you parts?"
"Yup!"
"And who pays?" the hippie demanded suspiciously.
"Uh... never thought about it," admitted Luther, now a little perplexed. "They do, I suppose."
"Why?"
"Huh? Well, that's a good question. I'll have to ask my secretary."
"Your secretary? Luther, since when do you have a secretary?" demanded Frank, now clearly realizing that something exceedingly strange was going on in his commune.
" 'Bout a week now. Whenever I need a part, or some materials I can't lay my hands on, she orders it for me, and it comes that same day." Luther explained happily. "Beats the hell out of using scraps from junkyards."
The communal leader accepted a bowl of bean soup from one of the bare-breasted cooks and stirred it meditatively for a moment. Luther, who never paid much attention to what he ate, took his bowl gratefully, feeling a vague stirring of lust in his loins as he surveyed the girl's small firm breasts. Since the night of love he had shared with Marge, he had entertained frequent thoughts of sex, but for some reason the girl was now returning every night to the motel even though she continued to turn up every day to take his orders for construction materials. Now that he knew that it was possible, even for him, he was determined to try it again. But Marge had seemed somewhat depressed during the week and he had not had the courage to ask her.
"Listen, Luther, I think we ought to get to the bottom of this," asserted the commune leader stoutly. "Nobody gives anything away for free."
"Oh, they explained all that," repeated Luther cheerfully. "They make their money by managing my finances."
"But you don't have any finances!" exploded Frank. "Now, I want you to finish that soup, go back to your hut and get an explanation out of your secretary. Understand?"
Luther sipped his soup, still covertly watching the three bare-chested girls who had prepared it. He was feeling exceptionally lusty tonight, and he remembered the hot carnal scene which had taken place the time Marge had crawled into his sleeping bag. The young architect did not frankly care who paid for his construction materials as long as he could go on building bigger and better geodesic domes, but he would try to remember to make inquiries about the matter. After he had enjoyed the girl's temptingly voluptuous body.
Yes, indeed, he thought lasciviously, butting his reefer into the remains of his bean soup. Yes, indeed!
* * *
"They've just called from the airport," reported the ex-FBI man tersely as he put down the phone. "Betsy's landed and they're bringing her over in a car. Should be here any minute now."
W. Scott McNalty nodded, the tension of the long operation beginning to tell on his pale features. Behind his thick glasses, the stockbroker's eyes seemed to squint into nothingness as he reviewed the tactical situation in his mind. The whole business was costing him tens of thousands of dollars a week, not to mention the fact that his best financial minds were cooped up with him here in the Paradise Hotel, two thousand miles from the New York Stock Exchange. He and his men were surrounded by stunningly beautiful (and fertile) young women whom they could not touch, since the girls were reserved for Luther MacTarmack, who did not seem to want them. Tonight, they were going to play their top card, but with Luther, anything was likely to be a long shot. Marge had done her best, and failed, and McNalty gazed at the unhappy young woman who had been acting as Luther's assistant for a week, and wondered how any man alive could resist that supple, willing young body. He had other girls who were due to become fertile over the next few days, but a man who would turn down a night with Marge could not be expected to respond to normal stimulation. The telephone rang and McNalty picked it up, handling the receiver as delicately as if it were a bomb.
"Yes?"
"This is me," came a hushed confidential voice from far away New York. It was the young lawyer on Morris W. Morrisson's staff who was secretly in the pay of the McNalty organization, reporting faithfully on the efforts to impregnate Lucy MacTarmack.
"Go ahead!"
"They had a try at you-know-who and came within inches of getting her! This was two weeks ago, but I just found out about it. They're gearing up for a massive attack in two weeks when her fertile period comes around again, and this time, they aren't taking any chances."
"What are they going to do?" barked McNalty.
"I haven't found out yet. They're keeping it a tight secret, and my guess is that the old man is going for something on the illegal side. My source says that it's rough but sure-fire."
"Your source?"
"Ah... yes, I've made friends with Morrisson's secretary/chauffeur, a Swedish... "
"Good! That gives us two weeks and we may need every day of it. In the meantime, we, need all the information we can get, and you keep pumping that chauffeur."
"Right, boss," said the voice. "We're having a meeting tonight, and I'll pump till the dawn's early light."
McNalty rang off, vaguely satisfied with the knowledge that his rival was apparently doing no better. He considered the odds carefully. On one hand, Luther was a man, and they could have fourteen tries at him in the following two weeks if need be, since the man's batteries re-charged fairly quickly. If they could only get him started! Morrisson was laboring under the sever disadvantage of being able to make only one try a month, whenever Lucy went into her fertile period. The negative side of the coin was the fact that they seemed to be having difficulty getting Luther started in his rich new sex life and unfortunately, it was biologically impossible to rape a man. If worse came to worse, Morrisson always had the option of... the stock-broker's face suddenly went pale.
"Oh my God!" he cried suddenly. "He's going for broke! He's going to have her raped!"
"What?" snarled the former FBI man, remembering that J. Edgar Hoover had always disapproved of rape.
"Of course, that's it! Morrisson waits till the day when the girl is super-fertile and then sends a team of cocksmen in and they criminally assault her! Five of them, ten of them! It can't fail! The will says nothing about producing an heir under illegal circumstances, or even knowing who the father is! If Morrisson gets that girl knocked up, he gets his hands on a quarter of a billion dollars. We've got to stop them."
"But how?" muttered the former FBI man morosely.
"That's your job! Get back to New York and set up some protection for that girl! We won't know exactly when her fertile period is and Morrisson will, so you'll have to protect her around the clock. Hire an army if you need to, but make sure Morrisson and his sex maniacs don't get through to her!"
"Yes, Sir," snapped the former federal agent promptly, jumping to his feet and feeling much better about his new assignment. What he was doing with Mr. McNalty was of questionable legality, but preventing an innocent girl from being ravished was right up his alley, just like those "Your FBI in Peace and War" programs they used to love on the radio in the good old days. He disappeared out the door just as a limousine pulled up in front of the Paradise Motel, bearing the girl named Betsy.
* * *
"I'm Betsy," the young woman announced quietly as she entered Luther's shack. "I have come."
Luther looked up quickly, verifying with his own eyes that she had indeed come. He had been feeling surprised and sad, returning to his abode and finding that Marge had apparently decamped, but the sight of this new girl cheered him up immediately.
For a moment, he sat still on the edge of his bed, staring at her in total stunned amazement. She was, if possible, more beautiful than Marge, a tall golden-haired creature with a face which could have launched a thousand geodesic domes. It was impossible to tell what her figure was like, since she was clothed from neck to ankle in a long white gown which merely hinted at the proportions of her breasts and the womanly swells of her hips. With a stately measured stride, she strode to the side of his bed and knelt humbly before him.
"You are the master," she informed him in the same quiet, self-assured voice. Luther felt his heart, and certain other portions of his anatomy, warming immediately. Marge had been a trifle on the bossy side, even if she had offered him the voluptuousness of her naked body in bed, but this woman, Betsy, was soft and submissive, in fact, unusually so. Who was she? What did she want?
"Ah... I'm happy to... uh... meet you, Betsy," he stammered as she gazed at him with her clear guileless eyes. "Nice of you to... drop in. Ah... what exactly am I the master of?"
"The geodesic dome," she explained, seeming a little startled as if the fact were perfectly obvious. "I have traveled around the country, following you, looking at your domes, all of them. They are so beautiful... "
"Gee," muttered Luther, flattered but wishing his first and only disciple would not feel the necessity of kneeling at his feet. "Glad you like them. Ah... were you figuring on staying a while?" Luther was never surprised at the strange things which life occasionally did to him, and after Marge's unexpected and unexplained arrival and departure, it was beginning to strike him as natural that beautiful women would find their way into his life.
"I have come to learn the secrets of the geodesic dome," she informed him, placing her hand softly upon his knee, her bosom heaving with emotion. "I want to become your apprentice."
"Golly, there's no secret about it," explained Luther, delighted to find that Betsy was not only gorgeous but shared his life-long fascination with the geodesic structure. "I can give you the basics in a few minutes if I can find a pencil... "
"No, the basics I have already mastered," she told him in the same ethereal voice. "I need to know the inner mystery of the geodesic dome, to understand the rich human sensuality of it all."
"Sensuality?" repeated Luther, a little perplexed. Despite all, the engineer was a very practical man who thought of geodesic domes as superb structures for keeping the rain out at minimum cost. But the more he thought about it...
"I never realized how... how sensual they were," he admitted frankly, a little disturbed that this girl had seen such a fundamental truth before him. "Must be why all the hippies like them, because hippies are usually very sensual people, even if they don't take baths too often. I've been working on a design for a geodesic bathtub and... "
"They are the most sensual things in the world," she murmured, blushing unexpectedly and lowering her eyes. "I... I have to show you what I mean. Do you remember the design you did for that commune in Kentucky?"
"Ah, how could I forget? But it was too big, so I had to build them a normal dome. But someday, I'm going to get a chance to put up a really big dome, and then I'm going to use that design. It's absolutely original and you could enclose a thousand square miles with it," Luther chattered happily, seeing that this mysterious girl had really made a careful study of his work. "I've got the drawings around here somewhere if you'd like to take a careful look at it... " He looked around the room, failing to see the folder in question, a fact which perplexed him. He had been showing it to an uninterested Marge just the other day...
"I have it." Betsy told him in a matter-of-fact tone.
"Where?"
"Open my dress," she suggested, her blush deepening.
"What? You have my plan under your dress?"
"Please," she begged him, putting her hands on his thighs and inching closer between his knees. "I have to show you what that design has meant to me."
Inexplicably, Luther found his hands shaking, and he suppressed the immediate desire to roll himself a joint to calm his nerves. The girl's dress unbuttoned from the neck all the way to the hem, and the engineer undid them one after another, slowly revealing the smooth milk-white texture of her skin as he pushed the cloth aside. Down he went, working his way between the superbly formed swells of her breasts until he had unfastened the garment to her belly-button.
"Now take it off," she ordered. Luther's mind was going into orbit, and he could feel his penis rearing up in his jeans like a stallion. He had not yet seen the rich fullness of her proud young breasts, and his fingers had swept lustfully over the softly yielding surface of her skin, feeling the tiny turgid little nipples through the cloth. Impatiently, he slid the gown off her creamy supple shoulders and let it fall loosely around her waist.
"Buckminster Fuller!" he swore softly in amazement. Betsy had meant what she had said about domes being sensual! Each full voluptuous breast had been tattooed with the design of the MacTarmack Kentucky dome, the dome he had never built, complete and accurate in every detail. Her chest was the ground and the rosy pink button of her nipple was the pinnacle. Both breast/domes were identical, and Luther nearly fainted with joy as Betsy rose majestically to her feet, her taut young breasts bearing the fruit of his genius and her gown sliding to the ground, leaving her completely naked.
"My heavens, Betsy!" he muttered, no longer thinking very clearly as the girl took a step forward, putting her arms around his neck. Luther had known moments of lust before, and his interest in geodesic design amounted to a mania, but the combination of the two was almost intolerably exciting. Without thinking to ask permission, he touched his trembling lips lightly to the fluttering little tip of her right breast, feeling the nipple stiffen immediately as if it were trying of its own accord to fight its way into his mouth.
"Oh, Luther," the girl murmured, pressing her desirable body even closer. "Yes, kiss them like that. I love it, my darling."
The young engineer was nearly beside himself by this point, and he wrapped his arms hungrily around her waist, crushing her delectable body against his while he went wild over the tantalizing peaks of her breasts, kissing and licking the hotly turgid little nipples as he moved his open mouth from one succulent breast to the other. Behind her, his lecherous hands explored the smoothly inviting surfaces of her buttocks 'and flanks. While she thrust her pelvis demandingly against his loins. Inexperienced as he was in sensual matters, Luther did not require any guidance from Johnson and Masters to tell him what to do at this point. Lifting her bodily into the air, he lay her gently down beside him on the bed and got to work divesting himself of his superfluous garments.
"Oh Luther," the blonde girl moaned, now obviously stricken with a yielding lust which was just as strong as the man's. "Please, if you don't mind... I mean, could you... make love to me? I've been waiting so long for this moment." In point of exact fact, she had been waiting since the previous Wednesday when McNalty's agents had located her working in a birth control clinic in Saint Louis and offered her an astounding amount of money to get pregnant. But the girl had thrown herself into the part she was supposed to be playing so thoroughly that she had now convinced herself that the geodesic designs she bore on her naked breasts were the most beautiful things in the world, and that Luther was an authentic genius. Now, more than anything else in the world, she wanted to make love to him, to feel his hard manly chest crushing the softly yielding mounds of her decorated breasts and his long pole-like cock thrust deeply within her willing, empty womb.
Luther's thoughts were none too coherent as he struggled out of his jeans and his underwear and stretched his trim athletic body out beside the girl, his cock already hard and pulsating with a vibrant life of its own. Could he really make love to this strange but intensely exciting young woman who had so unexpectedly dropped into his life? The memory of the perverted act Marge had performed on him flashed through his mind, and he wondered what new amorous tricks Betsy would have in store for him. Would she take his long pulsating pike into her mouth and suck him the way his dark-haired secretary, Marge, had done? Somehow, it all seemed like an impossible dream, the kind of fantasy he had after too much hippie home-brewed wine drunk after too much hashish. For the years he had wandered rural America building domes for anyone who would give him room and board, obscure and penniless, a kind of engineering Johnny Appleseed, and now suddenly he was a man with a financial manager who helicoptered him parts, and a private secretary who blew him and a disciple who offered unimaginable erotic delights. Luther was accustomed to spending a lot of his time in private fantasies, but this all seemed a bit too much.
He touched the girl, almost certain that she would dissolve into nothingness as he ran his hand slowly down from her inspiringly tattooed breasts to the temptingly blonder triangle of her pubic zone. Betsy was lying on her back, her arms thrown licentiously up over her head and her thighs slightly spread in an attitude of total erotic surrender. Luther caressed her gently, restraining the powerful impulse to leap on top of her freely offered body and stab his rigid cock into the soft confines of her vagina. But he realized that a girl who would have her breasts tattooed with an architectural design was a very special kind of individual who required delicate handling. He had to take his time, arousing her slowly and surely, making sure that she genuinely desired him as a man, and not merely a designer.
"Oooooooohhhhhhhh," the girl moaned sincerely as Luther ran his artist's fingers in a long languid caress down between her mountainous breasts, across the flat, yielding plain of her stomach and into the inviting jungle of her pale blonde pubic curls. The girl's pussy hair was nearly as blonde as the golden locks on her head, and she shivered involuntarily as she felt the man inch his exploring middle finger lewdly into the quivering wet flesh of her cunt. Her tiny brown nipples hardened automatically, and she could sense the highly sensitive bud of her clitoris swelling and tingling. Betsy had been reluctant to take this job despite the enormous amount of money McNalty and his associates were paying her, but she had accepted his proposition because the idea of making violent sexual love to a complete stranger had somehow excited her. And the moment she had laid eyes on Luther MacTarmack, she had convinced herself that the two of them were babes in the arms of destiny. He was an architectural genius, and he would fill her womb with seed and make her a mother. A very rich mother!
She had been worried that Luther would turn out to be cruel or sadistic, but stretched out nakedly in his arms, she sensed with a woman's instinct that there was no viciousness in his character. He was stroking her gently, almost respectfully, running his hands questioningly over her quivering flesh and she found her unprepared body reacting to him with savage intensity. She had come here with the express purpose of arousing him, but he was arousing her instead! Slowly, her thighs fell involuntarily apart as Luther bent over her tingling body, running his lips wickedly down past her hips into the softly moist hair surrounding the entrance to her vagina. It seemed horribly indecent to let a man press his open mouth against the pulsating pink flesh of her pussy when they had only known each other for fifteen minutes, but when Luther's tongue snaked out to lick the desire-flushed button of her clitoris, Betsy groaned again and forgot about propriety. What difference did it make? It felt so good!
Luther, meanwhile, was having the time of his life, having decided that Betsy was worth two of Marge in bed. His secretary had been a trifle businesslike about sex, but his new disciple was so compliant and submissive that he found his brain whirling in disbelief. With a girl like this, he could do anything he wanted! Any lewd depraved perversion which popped into his head was possible, and it did not even look as though he was going to have to ask permission. It was all his for the taking!
Betsy saw him rise up over her like a conquering hero, and felt the heat from his hands as he forced her milk-white thighs even farther apart, crouching now between her obscenely outstretched legs. There seemed to be tiny licking flames of lust racing through the sinews of her loins, sparks flashing erratically across the switchboard of her nervous system, and the girl felt her hips begin to rock back and forth as Luther sucked her clitoris in between his moist lips and lashed it unmercifully with his tongue.
"Oh Luther... " she gasped, feeling what little remained of her maidenly virtue disappearing into thin air. "God, this is making me feel... so... funny!"
The girl's wild and obvious passion was having a distinct effect on Luther's feelings as well, and the young engineer felt his rigid cock quaking like mad as he ran his lips up over her twisting writhing body to plant a warm wet kiss on her open mouth. Wickedly, their tongues met and danced, first in her mouth and then in his. His hard, manly chest was cradled now in the succulently soft cushions of her breasts, and he could feel the turgid little pebbles of her breasts drilling furiously into his skin as Betsy panted desperately for breath. As he covered her with his body, the girl's arms wrapped automatically around his neck and her thighs went even wider as she offered up her wetly throbbing vaginal slit like some erotic oriental sacrifice. The bulging glans of Luther's pulsating penis was lodged between the moistly fluttering lips of her vagina. To penetrate her welcoming womb, he need only flick forward with his hips and the job would be done.
But still he waited!
Beneath him, Luther could still feel Betsy's tattooed breasts pressing insistently against his chest, and he raised himself up on his arms to look one more time at the design of his geodesic dome turned into flesh. Her hotly quivering breasts began to excite him beyond endurance, and suddenly he realized with a jolt of massive stimulation that what he really wanted to do was to take her there, to possess those lovely geodesic breasts, to baptize them with his sperm! It was the most wickedly perverse idea Luther had ever had, and he was not even totally sure it was possible, but once the notion had infiltrated his mind, he knew he was going to have to try it, no matter what the consequences were!
Meanwhile, Betsy was twisting and groaning unintelligibly beneath him, her over-stimulated body arching mindlessly up into the air as she begged for the impalement he seemed to be denying her. Luther was moving now, slithering up her torso towards the large and lovely breasts which were exciting him so powerfully. His hands were positively trembling as he reached down to take her softly resilient mounds between his fingers, kneading and massaging the pleasant flesh while Betsy whimpered with unbridled lust. Luther was in heaven. As he crushed and squeezed her swollen young breasts, the sensuous lines of his geodesic design seemed to alter and mutate into new and fascinating forms. Without quite realizing what he was doing or why, the young architect pushed forward again, laying the torrid length of his lust-bloated cock directly between the two shimmering mounds of her tits.
She got the idea, and the notion of being fucked there somehow filled Betsy with a perverse kind of crazed desire unlike anything' she had ever known before. Closing her eyes and crooning softly, she cooperated, putting her hands on the sides of her white rounded breasts and pushing inward, trapping Luther's cock in a warm soft tunnel of flesh. It was like an artificial cunt, and the harder she pushed on her own breasts, the greater the pressure on the man's hotly throbbing instrument.
"Good God, you're driving me wild!" Luther groaned in something approaching pure ecstasy.
"Take it, baby, take it!" the girl urged him lewdly. But the young man felt vaguely guilty about having all the pleasure himself and leaving none for her, and he reached behind his back and probed boldly into the gaping wet flesh of her pussy, stabbing immediately into her cunt with three stiffened fingers.
"Ahhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!" she sighed in pure animal pleasure, bending her knees and rocking her hips up to meet his invading hand. It took a moment's experimentation, but before long the lust-crazed couple had established a mutually satisfying rhythm, with Luther plunging his lascivious fingers deeply into Betsy's inflamed vagina and at the same time thrusting the hardened flesh of his cock between the caressing spheres of her breasts. Now totally out of her mind with the pressure of an approaching orgasm, the girl pushed savagely on her breasts from the sides, trying to give him everything she had as he rocked wildly back and forth above her, swinging his body like a pendulum. With every forward stroke, the scarlet tip of his expanded glans appeared high on her chest, depositing a fragrant drop of male sperm which glistened on the whiteness of her skin.
Betsy's eyes were open, and focused on his face, her nostrils widely dilated and her breath coming hard. Luther studied her, with the part of mind that was still cold and scientific. Despite the wildness of his own erotic excitement, he watched the spasm sweep over her fragile body like a hurricane. It seemed to begin in her neck, and the man's eyes widened with wonder as all the tendons abruptly went tight, standing out like cords. Then it spread to her thighs and Luther felt her cunt quivering wildly, clutching at his hand like a thousand tiny fingers...
"Ahhhhhhh... I'm cumming!" she groaned. "Luther, baby, I'm cummmmmmmming!"
Luther found himself gasping for breath, feeling a sudden wild surge deep down in his testicles as the white-hot sperm started its mad dash for freedom. Betsy was still pushing hard on her breasts and the pressure was excruciatingly intense as Luther's turgid cock suddenly jerked spasmodically, sending vast streams of steaming cum spurting across the girl's heaving chest. There was a trail of sticky whiteness running from between her red-welted breasts across her naked chest and up to her cheeks, as the semen poured out like water from a fire hose. Luther groaned with simple bliss and collapsed on the bed beside her, slowly removing his wet hand from the satisfied depths of her cunt.
For a long time, neither of them spoke, each panting heavily as they gradually disentangled. Betsy ran her fingers through the cum between her ravaged breasts and looked at it uncomprehendingly as she remembered precisely what it was she had come here to do and realizing how stupidly she had failed.
"The hell with them," she muttered to herself. "I can't see myself as a mother anyway!"
"Huh?" said Luther, rolling a joint, and using a droplet of the moisture from Betsy's cunt to seal the cigarette paper.
CHAPTER SEVEN
As the ex-FBI man raised the window silently and crept into her apartment, Lucy MacTarmack was having a nightmare, dreaming she was running naked through the Municipal Zoological Gardens and being pursued by Morris W. Morrisson, who was waving a thick contract at her; the keeper of the Monkey House, who was waving his guitar at her; and Dr. Roberts, who was also naked and waving his penis at her.
She stirred restlessly in her sleep, pushing away the blankets and exposing in the half-light of early dawn the magnificence of her thighs protruding from her wholly inadequate shortie nightgown. The ex-FBI man carefully lowered the window behind him lest his illegal entry be noticed from the outside, and stood at the foot of the bed for a moment, surveying the sweet mysteries of the young woman's sleeping body. The shadowy red hairs of her pussy were just visible beneath the nightie, and as she sprawled in the shameless abandon of sleep, the ex-FBI man suddenly felt tempted to try and settle this absurd contest of fertility by lowering his pants and impregnating her on the spot.
Of course, it was a bad idea. For one thing, she was not due to be fertile for another day yet, and secondly, she would undoubtedly scream for help, which would be distracting, and thirdly, J. Edgar Hoover had always warned his men to avoid raping defenseless women unless absolutely necessary. But the clincher was the fact that he was here to keep Miss MacTarmack from getting pregnant, not help that band of legal scoundrels, Morrisson and Company, to get her knocked up. Taking a deep breath and dragging his eyes off of her lasciviously exposed pubic region, the ex-FBI man reminded himself that he was here, breaking and entering, with a very specific mission in mind. Dr. MacTarmack had evidently been feeling tired and run-down recently, because she had stopped into a pharmacy a few days before and purchased a bottle of multiple vitamin pills. One of the ex-FBI man's subordinates had questioned the clerk in the pharmacy (posing as an Internal Revenue Agent) and determined that the pills were blue and meant to be taken one a day, at breakfast. Consulting the McNalty gynecological expert, the ex-FBI man had ordered the fabrication of one hundred blue birth control pills of the same size and shape as the vitamin pills.
Stealing into the bathroom, he located the bottle of vitamins and carefully dumped them into his pocket, reminding himself to take a few at the next opportunity, since he too had been feeling tired and run-down recently, as a result of chasing all over the country trying to get some people pregnant and keep other people unpregnant. Dreaming of the good old days when he had spent his time pursuing spies and Mafia chiefs, the ex-FBI man carefully filled the bottle with ninety-eight blue birth control pills, subtracting two for the two vitamins Lucy had apparently already eaten. Then he recapped the bottle, wiped away his fingerprints, and left the bathroom.
Lucy had rolled over onto her stomach, now dreaming that she was being raped by Maxwell, the three hundred pound Galapagos turtle. The hem of the nightie was stretched across the middle of her back, leaving the lust-inciting cheeks of her buttocks shimmering in the moonlight.
The FBI man wrestled with the lecherous urge to bend over and kiss each of the shining globes, but the iron discipline of the Bureau was still with him and he fought back the evil temptation. He left, breathing heavily, and took a vitamin pill as soon as he got back to his car. He was going to need his strength since he had met a fascinating Swedish girl that afternoon, and he had an amorous appointment with her that very night. She had been the only woman in history to have been elected Miss Sweden twice, and the FBI man was looking forward to the experience with trembling excitement, since as far as he could remember, J. Edgar Hoover had never said anything about Swedish girls.
* * *
"Looks like he got away O.K.," said a man hiding in a nearby alley as he watched the ex-FBI man work his way down the fire escape and into his car. "Pretty good operator."
"Yeah, sure was nice of 'em to do our work for us," muttered a second man. "How much did you have to pay that guy in the pharmacy?"
"Couple a grand. It was those super-fertility pills that cost a small fortune, and coating them so they'd look like birth control pills disguised as vitamin pills was another expensive job. Morrisson's secretary making the exchange was a sensational idea. The federal fuzz was so busy looking at her tits, he never saw her make the switch."
"And now?"
"And now the first time somebody looks hard at the MacTarmack bitch, she gets pregnant," confided the first man grimly. "Come on, let's get back to headquarters."
* * *
Morrisson stood at the lectern with a Halloween mask over his face, a pointer in his hand, his notes before him, and a blackboard behind him, on which several diagrams had already been sketched. The lawyer was feeling at the top of his form, having gone several rounds that morning with his Swedish chauffeur/secretary/vice-president who had taught him some things about anal-eroticism that he had never dreamed were possible. It was the beginning of the big operation, and he felt titillated by the notion of engaging in anything as blatantly criminal as this. With a contented chuckle at his own extreme cleverness, he tapped his pointer on the lectern and called the meeting to order. Conversation died instantly and four pairs of eyes were instantly focused upon him.
"Gentlemen, when the company which I represent goes out looking for qualified personnel," he began solemnly, "we are never satisfied with anything less than the best. We wanted trained specialists in a certain field, men with proven abilities and solid careers behind them, and we were willing to pay the kind of price a real expert can demand for his services. You four are the result of a long and arduous search, but I am confident that we have in this room the four most competent specialists in the field of carnal violence currently at large in North America."
There was a round of grateful applause, and Morrisson smiled and paused in his presentation while the woman who had been Miss Sweden twice brought in drinks and packs of cigarettes for each of the four men. Beneath the lectern Morrisson had a concealed bull whip as insurance against the possibility that the sight of his secretary/chauffeur/vice-president would inspire one or more of the four experts to demonstrate his prowess on the spot. Morrisson had no particular objection to the boys getting in a little practice, but they were only a few days from blast-off, and he wanted them to save their sperm. When Miss Sweden (two times) swayed provocatively out of the room unraped, the lawyer continued his presentation.
"Now, for obvious reasons, we cannot acquaint you with the identity of your employers, but you're going to be working together as a team, and members of a good team should know each other, so let me do some introducing. Lester Jones, will you stand up and take a bow?"
A tall blond-haired man in his middle thirties lumbered to his feet, smiling awkwardly as he acknowledged the polite patter of applause.
"Les, it's great to have you on the team!" said Mr. Morrisson proudly. "For the record, boys, Lester here has chalked up only three arrests for aggravated criminal assault out of seventeen kills, all in the great state of California. How does it feel to be back East, Lester?"
"Well, Sir, I'm looking forward to the challenge of raping an Eastern woman," said Lester. "It's a great opportunity for me to study new techniques."
"Right you are, Les, and the Mister New-Techniques-of-Lechery is none other than New York's own Mel Polanski. A little applause for a really great rapist!"
A short stocky man with enormously powerful shoulders and arms rose to his feet, smiling broadly at these compliments.
"Boys, every schoolboy and his sister is familiar with Mel's exploits over the years, and he hardly needs any introduction. Mel holds the New York State Police record for having carnally ravished both the oldest and the youngest women ever assaulted in their jurisdiction. He is the only living man to have scored a kill in the Statue of Liberty during visiting hours and the first man in history to rape a Congresswoman, and a Republican at that!
Gallantly, Lester Polanski raised his glass and toasted the speaker, grinning proudly and shaking hands with his colleagues before sitting down and permitting Morrisson to get on with his introductions.
"Gentlemen, I'm sure all of you have read newspaper reports about a new young talent operating in the deep South. He has never been arrested or identified by the police and it was only with the greatest difficulty that we were able to track him down. He's only nineteen years old, and I know he's going to be watching you older men for what he can learn. But despite his tender years, this boy has already struck terror into the hearts of thousands of Southern Belles. Gentlemen, the pride of Dixie, Billy Joe Saunders!"
A short, slender youth who hardly seemed big enough to rape his little sister, Billie Joe stood up shyly, grinning sheepishly as the older men around him pounded him heartily on the back. The commotion in the room was so great that it was several minutes before Mr. Morrisson, perspiring freely under his Halloween mask, could restore order.
"Billie Joe, would you like to tell us what your most exciting experience so far has been in this very demanding field? From your dozens of successful rapes from the shores of South Carolina to the banks of the Rio Grande, what is the one which stands out in your mind?"
"Well, Sir," replied the diminutive youth, a strikingly handsome young man with a deep Southern accent, "Ah think it must be the day ah scored with a white woman and a black lady, and then an Indian gal and a Mexican girlie and then an Eskimo chick, all on the same day."
"That's incredible, Billie Joe, and now that you mention it, I remember reading it in the newspapers. There was good press coverage as I recall, and the Eskimo girl later wrote an article for Playboy!" Morrisson reminded the group proudly. "That's right, Sir, and ah'm particular proud of that day, 'cause it proves us Southern boys ain't the bigots we's supposed to be. When ah rapes a woman, ah concentrates on raping her fer herself, without thinkin' about race, creed, religion, or national origin, jes' so long as she's an American citizen."
Morrisson tended to become emotional at intensely moving moments like this, and the lawyer was forced to lift his Halloween mask and wipe away a tear.
"Boys, I think you'll agree with me that this is the kind of patriotic attitude that makes our country such a fine place to live and rape in. Billie Joe, we're all proud of you, son, and we know you're going to do just beautifully on this magnificent team. But time is short, gents, and I hasten to present the anchor man on your dauntless foursome. He has never before worked in North America, but without fear of contradiction I believe we can call him the British Empire and European Common Market champion, and the only sex criminal ever to be given top billing on Interpol's most wanted criminal list! Stand up, fellow, and meet your colleagues! This fine English Gentleman has committed not only two hundred successful rapes, but is also an accomplished voyeur, exhibitionist, sodomist, fetishist, a real pervert's pervert. Boys, I give you Mr. Wayne Brooksmith!"
Standing his furrowed umbrella against a nearby chair, Mr. Brooksmith smiled genially at his fellow rapists, acknowledging a polite round of applause. Morrisson realized that the American sex criminals were slightly offended that a foreign expert had been brought in as anchor man, but the lawyer had shrewdly concluded that his presence would stimulate the Americans to try even harder. Brooksmith was a specialist on hard-to-get women, as at least one member of the British Royal Family knew very well, and the lawyer had guessed that his talents might be needed. "And now, gentlemen, let me give you your marching orders, or I suppose I should say, your raping orders." Morrisson paused for a round of raucous laughter, and then pushed the button beneath his lectern. The room fell into gloom and a full-color slide flashed against the wall behind him. "This, gents, is the target," he announced solemnly as the four rapists feasted their eyes on the lust-provoking female features on the wall. "Her name is Lucy MacTarmack!"
* * *
"We could have avoided a great deal of unpleasantness if the two of you had confessed earlier," snapped W. Scott McNalty coldly, staring through his thick bifocals at the two crestfallen women before him. Marge sniffled loudly and blew her nose in a handkerchief while Betsy gazed bleakly at the floor, wishing she were back in her St. Louis birth control clinic.
"We tried... " offered Luther's former secretary weakly. "Just got carried away, I guess."
"Carried away!" retorted McNalty sternly. "You were sent in there to get his sperm into your cunts, not to have fun! Instead, the two of you indulge in unthinkable perversions! What is happening to American womanhood! Now, unfortunately, Luther is becoming surly and unreasonable about the whole business and we are being forced to take extreme measures."
"Oh please don't hurt him," begged Betsy tearfully. "He's such a... a beautiful man!"
"Women!" shouted McNalty in a rare fit of temper. "You give them a simple job like getting pregnant and they get all emotional on you instead. Now Luther wants the two of you back, and he won't look at the other girls I've been sending him. He's become very uncooperative! All he had to do is sit around in his shack and impregnate the gorgeous fertile women I've imported at great expense so he can inherit a quarter of a billion dollars, and he won't do it! You can't treat money that way!"
"Why don't you send us back?" pleaded Marge. "This time we'll keep our minds on the job, and I know we can get pregnant!"
"Pregnant? Sure you can, in another month. I need somebody pregnant now, or the opposition's going to get ahead of me. I've got exactly one fertile woman left, by George, and this time I'm going to see to it personally that Luther's million dollar penis gets into the right orifice!"
McNalty's temper tantrum was interrupted by a disturbance at the door of the Paradise motel as three burly men bundled and angry and bewildered Luther MacTarmack into the room. There was plastic tape across Luther's mouth and his hands were tied behind his back.
"Here he is, boss!" announced one of McNalty's goons. "Where do you want him?"
"Take him into the bedroom, strip him naked, and tie him spread-eagled and face up on the bed!" ordered the stock broker crisply.
"Please! Oh no, you can't torture him," screamed Betsy, throwing herself to her knees in front of the turbulent McNalty. "It's not human!"
"Don't be ridiculous, girl!" snapped the man scornfully. "I'm going to have him raped!"
"But a woman can't rape a man!" objected Marge.
"That's what I was thinking," admitted McNalty testily. "But when I heard that bastard Morrisson is going to play dirty, I realized that we had to try. Now get your clothes off, the two of you, because you're going to help!"
"But we're not fertile now!" objected Marge, obediently unbuttoning her blouse while Betsy slipped out of her gown.
"No, but she is," responded the stockbroker, pointing to a naked lady who had just appeared from an adjoining bedroom. "Linda, this is Marge, and Betsy, who will be giving you a hand with the stimulation, but please remember what's supposed to go where! Would you like me to draw you a diagram? Fit Tab A to Slot B?"
"I think we can remember, Boss," said the new girl meekly. Linda was black-haired and sumptuous with great Earth-Mother breasts and smoothly rounded thighs, exuding the kind of rich sensuality which could have stimulated a corpse. "The doctor says I'm ready right now."
"Great. Let's go!" called McNalty briskly, opening the door to the bedroom and striding in like a field marshall about to begin the greatest battle of his career. Luther had been stripped and tied, but the elastic tape had been removed from his mouth. His kidnappers had caught him, however, just before his first marijuana cigarette of the day and an unstoned Luther tended to be a stubborn nasty Luther. Fortunately, he was stoned most of the time, and the world seldom got to see how tough he could be when he wanted. His large penis was lying flaccid and limp between his legs and his eyes blazed at the stockbroker as he entered the room with the three naked girls.
"What is this?" he shouted in a rage. "I thought you were supposed to be my financial manager!"
"I am," announced the stockbroker grimly.
"And I'm going to make you a millionaire."
"I don't want to be a millionaire," growled Luther.
"Everybody wants to be a millionaire!" screamed McNalty, beginning to tremble with excitement. "Not wanting a million dollars is... is un-American! What are you, some kind of communist?"
"Maybe we'd better get started, Boss," suggested Linda, gazing despondently at Luther's limp instrument. "Do you want to run the show or should we just improvise?"
Realizing that this was no time to get involved in a discussion of the morality of high finance, McNalty nodded shortly, noticing his three naked assistants had already taken places next to Luther on the bed. He leaned over and picked up the lifeless shaft of the young architect's cock, gingerly placing his other hand on the dark muff of Linda's pussy.
"Now let me make one thing perfectly clear," he said levelly. "What I have in my right hand, goes into what I have in my left hand. Do we all understand each other? I know you people are members of the swinging generation and have other ideas about where things go, but this is the way it's done if we want to have babies, right?"
"I don't want to have babies," asserted Luther. "I hate children."
"Don't pay any attention to him, girls," warned McNalty, deciding that anyone who hated money and children was a subversive.
"Get in there and turn him on. As soon as he's hard, Linda, you get in the saddle and ride!"
"I won't do it," snarled Luther in a black rage. "I'm not an animal."
"All men are animals," dictated Linda, crawling toward him on the bed. "Come on, baby, it'll be fun. Start giving him some kisses, Marge."
"Ah Luther, honey," purred Marge as she snuggled down beside him. "Cooperate, baby. You're making it so hard for us."
"I'm not going to make it hard for you," insisted the architect, trying to avoid Marge's hungry mouth as she covered his face with moist kisses.
"Run your breasts across his chest, Betsy," directed Linda briskly. "I know a tit man when I see one."
"You, my disciple!" mumbled Luther accusingly, his words distorted by the presence of Marge's tongue wickedly exploring his mouth. "Noooooooooohhhhhhhhhh... " He felt himself weakening fast as Betsy leaned across his torso, her heavy mature breasts jiggling provocatively as she trailed the hardened little buds of her extended nipples over his sensitive flesh. Meanwhile, Linda had taken the fleshy column of his penis into her softly expert fingers and begun caressing him delicately, pushing his heavy foreskin back to expose the scarlet glans of his quivering tool. Luther groaned in agony as he felt that familiar warmth invading his loins, and realized that he was going to have an erection whether he wanted one or not. Grimly, he held out, trying to produce some lust-killing fantasies, imagining himself being led off to the electric chair, or falling head first into a pile of horse manure.
The horse manure fantasy slowed him down a little, but he could feel Linda's hot breath as the black-haired girl crouched between his outstretched legs, furiously massaging his resisting penis.
"How 'bout a little lick?" he heard her tempting voice from between his thighs. Despairing, Luther closed his eyes and tried to fantasize being castrated by a Russian agent with a rusty caviar knife, but when he felt her honey Ups closing provocatively over the bulging tip of his cock, he knew he was losing another battle.
"Careful, that's how I made my mistake," warned Marge as Linda sucked his slowly stiffening penis into the unnatural sanctuary of her mouth. Luther felt his rod beginning to rise involuntarily, and he launched into a new fantasy picturing himself being hacked to pieces by a tribe of African bushmen. It was useless. He was as hard as a railroad spike and the girl's tongue caressed him expertly, sucking his bulbous shaft into the back of her throat and her hands gently massaged the sperm-filled sac of his testicles.
"The average man has a quarter of a billion sperm in his body," announced McNalty encouragingly as he repeatedly polished the steam off his glasses. "In Luther's case, every one of them is worth about a dollar, and more if the market improves."
"Hmmmmmmm," purred Linda, the man's iron-hard rod of flesh lodged deeply in her throat.
"Take it easy, girl," warned Betsy. "You'll never get pregnant that way."
Luther felt his hips beginning to jerk spasmodically, and for a moment he considered trying to foil them by cumming now, in a place where it would do McNulty no good. But Linda craftily withdrew his saliva-glistening member from her mouth, waving it in the stockbroker's face like a battle trophy.
"Now we're getting somewhere. Keep the pressure on him, girls!"
"Traitors," snapped Luther in disgust as Marge took one of his tightly tied hands and forced his helpless middle finger into the moist opening of her vagina, keeping it there by clamping her thighs together and continuing to cover his vainly resisting face with intoxicating kisses. Betsy, the girl with the geodesically tattooed breasts, was stretched out by his side, crushing the suppleness of her decorated breasts into his ribs, and covertly rubbing her tiny pink clitoris against his kneecap. Linda, struggling to keep her mind focused on the one-quarter billion dollars involved in this perverse erotic spectacle, rose up over him like a goddess emerging from the sea. Positioning the pointed shaft of his penis beneath the gaping aperture of her pussy, she slowly lowered her loins down upon him, directing his bulging scarlet glans past the swollen pink lips of her pussy and into the clasping tunnel of her vagina. She was impaled.
"Aaaaaaaaaggggggghhhhhhhh!!!!!!" she groaned involuntarily, wiggling her hips lecherously as 'she tried to force Luther's enormous pike all the way up into her tight little cunt. She had not been prepared for anyone quite as big as this, and it took some considerable amount of effort on her part to adjust, particularly since Luther was resisting fiercely, bucking and heaving in a desperate effort to throw her off.
But his wild resistance was futile, since every desperate wiggle sent his massively pulsing cock inching farther and farther up into Linda's willing little cunt. He was feeling powerfully stimulated now, from the combined efforts of all three girls, and a crushing sense of depression swept over him. How could he help himself? The girl's cunt was soft and tight and tantalizingly wet, and Linda was beginning to rise slowly up and down, fucking herself into oblivion with the use of his borrowed cock.
Next to him, Marge suddenly groaned with the faint sobbing sound she always made in the throes of an orgasm, and Luther realized that the bizarre sex-spectacle they were performing had driven his traitorous secretary into a premature cum. He was holding out pretty well himself, trying to picture himself chained to the wall of a salt mine in Siberia being flogged by a Mongolian idiot when his concentration was utterly destroyed by Betsy. The tall blonde girl suddenly thrust her hands between her legs and gasped painfully.
"Oh Lutherrrrrrrrrr," she sang, closing her eyes and crushing her supple, sex-charged body against his in a desperate effort to communicate her orgasm to him. Luther snapped his eyes shut, recognizing that he was in danger, and got back into his Siberian salt mine, where he was now having his genitals eaten by wolves while chained to the wall.
"Come... on . . you... son... of... a... bitch," gasped Linda, riding up and down on his thighs with his long quivering pole reducing her vagina to rubble as she slaved frantically to make him cum. There was perspiration trickling down through the valley between Linda's ponderous breasts, trickling lewdly across the flatness of her stomach and into her loins where it mixed obscenely with the orgiastic juices now gushing copiously from her inflamed cunt. The girl realized she had not more than a minute of self-control left to her and doubled her efforts to drive the captive engineer into a brain-shattering orgasm.
Luther recognized that she was turning the pressure on, and stubbornly gritted his teeth in an effort to avoid the cum they were trying to force on him. He did not know who these people were or why they had suddenly swooped into his life, but he was determined to stay in control of his own destiny. They were toying with his emotions, sending him one beautiful girl to fall in love with and then abruptly taking her away and sending another. Some men would have enjoyed this constant turn-over, but for a shy man like' Luther, it took too much emotional energy away from designing domes.
But Linda was doing her work with maximum diligence, trembling herself on the edge of a powerful orgasm and Luther gritted his teeth in agony as he watched her slide inexorably into a fit of sheer physical pleasure. Her flexing, clasping cunt bore down on him with intolerable pleasure, and he felt himself losing control as the girl threw her arms over her head in ecstasy.
"Oh... Christ! I'm cummmmmmmmmming!" she screamed as Luther searched his mind desperately for a fantasy which would turn him off. The bubbling hot sperm was gathering in his testicles, preparing for its mad impregnating rush into the girl's receptive womb and he wracked his brain for the one thought guaranteed to stop him cold...
The Radcliffe girl!
Her face tumbled from his memory into his consciousness and Luther gratefully felt his wild excitement passing as he recalled how she had mocked and scorned him a decade before when he had fumblingly done his inadequate best to remove her Ivy League virginity. He remembered her deprecating laughter as Linda the Earth-Mother collapsed across his chest in pure animal joy and McNalty hovered anxiously over the bed, trying to see if Luther was cumming or not. His cock slowly wilted with the horrible memory, and Linda wiggled desperately, trying to bring him back.
"Oh cum! Damn you, no man gets soft on me at a moment like this!" she raged at him furiously, but the red-haired young architect closed his eyes tightly and remembered the face of the Dean of Students when he found the pound of hashish beneath his bed. He felt his penis wilt some more, and permitted himself a victory grin.
"Did you cum?" demanded McNalty in cold fury as Linda collapsed panting on the bed, her open gaping cunt empty of Luther's sperm.
"Nope!" responded the young man proudly. "I cum when I want to, buster, and if you're finished with your little experiment, I think we'd better have a talk!"
McNalty stared at him for a long time, realizing that the engineer's personality had undergone a remarkable change in the past few days. As long as he was privately convinced that he was a hopeless failure with the opposite sex, Luther had been pliable and weak, taking constant refuge in marijuana to avoid facing the horrible truth about himself. But now, having proven to himself that he could dispense orgasms to girls like a Rockefeller giving away dimes, he had suddenly become a man!
"If I turn you loose, will you hit me?" inquired McNalty timidly, noticing for the first time how large and impressive Luther's biceps were.
"If you turn me loose and tell me the whole story from beginning to end, I will consider not hitting you," equivocated Luther.
It was the best he could hope for under the circumstances. McNalty nodded weakly to Marge and Betsy, who carefully untied him. Luther sat up in bed, rubbed his wrists and decided he would take both of them to bed tonight. But first, he wanted a little information!
CHAPTER EIGHT
Lucy MacTarmack was feeling tired and remembered that she had forgotten to take her vitamin pill that morning as she opened Homer's cage to feed him his weekly chicken. The young herpetologist realized that she was working too hard, since Dr. Roberts showed no signs of returning from his extended leave of absence, and she had fallen into the habit of staying late in her office in the Reptile House long after the other curators had gone home for the night. The deserted zoo in the evening was a frightening place, but she had begun to find her empty apartment almost unbearable at night, particularly after the unfortunate episode with Xenophon Pericledes.
It's tough being a liberated woman, she told herself somewhat sadly, wondering why it was that someone as attractive as people said she was should have such difficulties finding the right sort of man. She opened the door of Homer's cage, and the giant reptile looked at her with his usual glassy reptilian stare as she extracted the protesting chicken from its box. It was then that she heard the door to her office open and close.
Startled, Lucy stuffed the chicken back into its box and hurried down the corridor, a little frightened. The night watchman had a morbid fear of snakes and never came within a hundred yards of the Reptile House. Had Dr. Roberts returned? Was it Xenophon, come back from Athens to say he was sorry and plead for another chance?
Wrong. It was, in no particular order, Lester Jones, Mel Polanski, Billie Joe Saunders and Mr. Wayne Brooksmith.
"This should be our lady now," smiled the Englishman politely as Lucy entered her office, looking a little frightened at finding herself with four strange men so late at night in the heart of the Municipal Gardens. How had they gotten in? Brooksmith hung his umbrella on the coat rack and removed his jacket.
"I ain't so sure," said Mel Polanski, taking a photograph out of his breast pocket and comparing it to the face of the voluptuously attractive girl before him. "Hair is all different."
"Not a great photograph," put in the Californian, Lester Jones. "Could you let us see yer profile, honey?"
"Ha wanna see 'er tits," growled Billie Joe Saunders who was barely tall enough to reach the portion of Lucy's anatomy he had in mind.
"Would you gentlemen mind explaining what you want?" the girl snapped indignantly. She was badly frightened already, but had decided that the best strategy was to brazen it through. "Yes, dear lady, we'll come to that in a moment. You aren't Miss Lucy MacTarmack, by chance?"
"Doctor Lucy MacTarmack!" she replied bitingly.
"A thousand pardons. I never raped anyone with a doctorate before, gentlemen; I think this may be a historic first."
"I once did a chick with a Master's degree from Berkeley," put in Lester Jones. "But she didn't put up much of a fight."
"Really?" inquired the Briton archly. "Didn't realize she was being raped?"
"I kept telling her, but it didn't seem to make much difference. That's higher education for you," concluded Lester gloomily as he unzipped his pants. "If you guys'll step out of the room, I guess I'll get started."
"What are you doing?" gasped Lucy, despite the fact that it was fairly obvious what they were doing.
"One moment, young lady, we have a procedural question to resolve her. Lester, why should we step out of the room?" Lester had removed his shirt, revealing huge muscles and a barrel chest, but he left his white jockey shorts in place.
"Hell, man, I can't do my stuff with an audience," complained Lester peevishly.
"That's a California rapist fer ya," muttered Mel Polanski sneeringly. "I once did it in Times Square on New Year's Eve."
"Didn't anybody stop ya?" marveled Billie Joe.
"In New York? I had three guys trying to help. But I caught pneumonia and... "
"Gentlemen, we must get organized," pleaded Wayne Brooksmith. "I have a plane to catch, and this may take some time. Now, young lady, you are to be raped, and you will kindly remove your clothing!" The four men closed in on her slowly, and Lucy backed desperately into a comer, her mind working furiously as she tried to plan an escape.
"Wait a minute," objected Mel Polanski. "Who ever heard of asking her to take her clothes off? First we knock 'er out and then we rip 'er clothes off."
"Oh, how quaint!" groaned the Englishman. "To think you were all once part of the British Empire."
"Don't hurt me please," begged Lucy, terrified by Mel Polanski's proposal. "I'll take my clothes off."
"Now you stay outa this!" flared the New Yorker. "I say we do this the American way or not at all!"
"We gotta tie 'er up," urged Billie Joe, "with her silk stockings."
"She isn't wearing stockings," Brooksmith pointed out with a groan.
"Then we beat 'er up," concluded Billie Joe. "Why should we beat her up?" asked Lester Jones. "She isn't going to put up that much of a fight."
"Ah dunno. We always beat 'em up down home," muttered Billie Joe.
"My dear, I think it would save time if you were undressing while we thrashed out these details," said Brooksmith, patting Lucy's hand reassuringly. "My friends and I won't hurt you if you're sufficiently cooperative."
Lucy was doing an admirable job of keeping her nerves under control, but she realized quite clearly that escape from her present situation was quite impossible. She was trapped by four strong men who had obviously come here with the intention of raping her, and they were unlikely to go away without satisfying their bestial instincts. Two of them wanted to be violent, and two were inclined to be peaceable, and she decided that the safest course was to obey the Englishman's orders and keep her wits about her. Swallowing, she undid the buttons on her skirt and let it drop to the floor. The men seemed to be more interested in arguing with one another than watching her, so she slipped out of her panties and kicked off her shoes. The discussion gradually died as the soft, reddish hairs of her pubic region appeared.
"Sheeittt," whistled Billie Joe in admiration, stepping up close and examining Lucy's mouth-watering pussy as if he had never seen one before. "Hey, let's compromise. She's already undressed halfway. At least let me rip 'er blouse off. Back home they always screams and kicks a little. Ain't hardly no fun if there ain't some rough stuff."
"Sounds reasonable," nodded the Englishman. "Go ahead, if you must."
Lucy MacTarmack squealed in terror, looking down at the little man as he planted himself firmly on both feet before her and gathered the fragile material of her blouse in his hands.
"All right, baby," he snarled at her as he yanked viciously at her blouse, nearly knocking her over.
"Hey, Billie Joe, the blouse didn't come off," observed Lester Jones as Lucy supported herself against a desk. The cotton blouse had proved tougher than it looked and the buttons had held.
"Well, ah be damned," muttered the Southerner, examining the blouse with professional interest. "Maybe you better take it off, girly. Ah'll try rippin' your bra off."
Lucy's mind rebelled at the notion of stripping herself stark naked in front of this foursome of hardened sex criminals, but she had learned from girl friends in the Sisterhood of Science that a girl threatened with rape should only offer resistance if there was a reasonable chance of getting away. When faced with overwhelming force, it was best to obey orders in the hopes that they would take what they wanted and not hurt you in the process.
Quickly, she unbuttoned the blouse with trembling fingers and then got rid of her brassiere, lest Billie Joe decide to test his strength against it, too. Suddenly, she was naked, and the four rapists fell silent, lost in admiration for her splendidly voluptuous form. Cold fear was making the tiny buds of her nipples stand out fiercely, and she was breathing hard with poorly concealed fear, making the deep, proud swells of her breasts rise and fall provocatively. Lester Jones took off his underpants, having been appointed by Morrisson to lead the attack, and the girl's eye focused on the rising shaft of his penis, looming long and muscular...
There was a hissing noise in the room, and Lucy felt her blood run cold, immediately recognizing the sound for what it was.
It's Homer!" she explained to the uncomprehending men. "We've got to get out of here!"
"Who's Homer?" snapped Lester Jones, who was in the act of maneuvering her up against a desk.
"We'll take care of him, Les," Wayne Brooksmith decided, assuming that Homer was the night watchman. "Now, who has the gun?"
"Gee, don't you have the gun?" said Mel Polanski.
"You mean we left it at the hotel?" groaned the Englishman. "Suppose we get broken by the fur."
"I left his cage open accidentally," cried the girl in despair.
"Broken by the fur?" repeated Polanski uncomprehendingly.
"He means busted by the fuzz," explained Lester Jones.
"... and he's hungry!" screamed Lucy in an agony of fear as Homer poked his head around the comer and saw what looked to him very much like breakfast. Lucy was terrorized by the insane notion that the great python would go instinctively for her since she was naked and therefore more digestible than a man wearing belt-buckles and shoes. Lester Jones, who was also naked and steering his long burly instrument unceasingly toward her soft triangular pubic zone, glanced over his shoulder in the direction of the hysterical redhead's pointing finger, seeing the first fifteen feet or so of Homer. His erection wilted as if my magic. The snake was undulating gracefully towards them, his forked tongue darting out hungrily, looking from one potential victim to another in puzzlement like a customer in a Chinese restaurant, pondering the menu. Homer had never eaten a human being before, and he wanted to pick out the one who looked tenderest.
"Oh, Christ," cried Mel Polanski, frightened but not panic-stricken. "We've gotta get out of here!"
"Can't you call him off?" quivered the Englishman, backing fearfully away from the mammoth reptile.
"We've got to move slowly," recited Lucy, making a desperate effort to control her terror.
Obviously the girl was not frightened of snakes in general, but Homer was a potential people-killer and it would take a trained crew to get him back in his cage without tragedy. "We stay together and walk deliberately to the door... slowly now. If we run, he'll strike!"
Fortunately, a rapist is a man accustomed to living with tension, and the team obeyed orders, except for Billie Joe Saunders, who remained rooted to the spot, paralyzed by stark, agonizing fear. Lester, Wayne, Mel and Lucy inched their way to the door, all without noticing that the slender youth was still cowering behind the desk.
"We're gonna make it," breathed Mel gratefully as he put his hand on the door knob. "Hafta rape you in the bushes, Miss." Worried that she would capitalize upon the confusion to make a bid for freedom, Mel lifted the naked herpetologist into the air and threw her over his shoulder, turning to get out the door. Then, a number of things happened in quick succession.
First the door opened, and Luther MacTarmack burst in, followed by Marge, Betsy, and W. Scott McNalty.
Second, Homer slithered closer to the desk and coiled for a strike.
Third, Luther took in the situation in a glance and shouted something about saving his cousin from a fate worse than death.
Fourth Wayne Brooksmith hit Luther over the head with his umbrella, irritating the normally calm engineer.
Fifth, Luther hit Wayne Brooksmith with his fist, knocking him halfway across the room.
Sixth, Marge, and Betsy screamed simultaneously as they noticed Homer.
Seventh, Billie Joe Saunders sprinted for the door, issuing a rebel yell; Homer struck with deadly precision at this fast-moving object; Luther kicked Mel Polanski in the testicles and grabbed Lucy and everybody got out of the Reptile building fast, and disappeared into the night.
Except Billie Joe, who disappeared into Homer.
* * *
Thirty seconds of blinding confusion later, Lucy found herself still naked in the back seat of a limousine, alone with the strange red-haired man who seemed to have kidnapped her from her kidnappers. She was tired, bruised, frightened and upset, having caught a glimpse as they bundled her out of the Reptile House of Bille Joe's head 'and shoulders disappearing into Homer's capacious mouth while his legs kicked spasmodically. From a scientific point of view, it was interesting to know that a Python could swallow a human being, even though Billie Joe just barely qualified for that honor. Lester Jones had vanished into the night, covering his nakedness with Wayne Brooksmith's bent umbrella, followed by the Englishman and Mel Polanski. They had still been arguing as they hurled themselves over the wall. And now, she was again a prisoner!
"Oh go ahead!" she spat at Luther, who was removing his jacket. "Go ahead and do whatever dirty thing you want! I can't stand it anymore!" Luther gulped uncomfortably and covered her nakedness with his jacket as the limousine rocketed through the darkened city. Mr. Scott W. McNalty was at the wheel and Marge and Betsy were crowded into the front seat beside him.
"Ah... I wasn't going to do anything to you, cousin," the young engineer explained mildly. "! just came all the way from Nebraska to save you from the dirty things those other fellows wanted to do to you."
"Cousin?" Lucy repeated in amazement, taking a second look at his fiery red hair.
"Luther MacTarmack at your service," he replied courteously. "When the people who were trying to rape me failed, I found out a guy named Morrisson was trying to have you raped, and I figured it was time for cousins to stick together."
"They were trying to rape you too?"
"It's a little complicated, but as I get it, whichever one of us first has a kid gets a pile of dough from our uncle, Wild Bill MacTarmack."
"Oh that business again?" the girl cried in near despair. "Look, can you have them take me home? I've got to get some clothes on and -- and I can't stand anymore of this!"
The car pulled up in front of the Plaza Hotel and a young woman waiting on the curb handed a raincoat into Scott McNalty who passed it over his shoulder to Dr. MacTarmack.
"I thought I was in charge there for awhile," admitted Luther sheepishly "When I got them to fly me to New York so we could rescue you, but now they say we've got to go to a meeting."
"Tomorrow!" pleaded the girl, covering her nakedness with the raincoat. "Tomorrow," said W. Scott McNalty, "would be too late."
* * *
"You double-cross me on this, McNalty, and I'll sue you for a trillion dollars," warned Morrisson threateningly as the two men hovered next to the door of The Plaza Hotel bridal suite. "Morris, would I double-cross an old friend?"
"I found the double agent you had planted on my staff," growled the lawyer bitterly. "We put him in charge of our office in Outer Mongolia."
"Outer Mongolia? Is that where your fertility pills come from?" replied McNalty acidly. "Nice little trick that was!"
"Damnit, if I hadn't gotten those birth control pills away from her, we'd really be helpless now, wouldn't we?"
"Scott, let's get serious! Do you think this mad plot of yours can possibly work?"
"Listen, Morris, we made our first mistake when we failed to cooperate from the beginning. Now what are the three major inherited characteristics of the MacTarmack family?"
"Well, red hair, obviously, and the men all have enormous cocks, and... stubbornness?"
"Precisely! There is a red-headed mule weighing down one of the branches of the MacTarmack Family tree, and it's showed up in these two youngsters. We can't bully them anymore than we could bully Wild Bill. Believe me, my way is the only way, because it's going to be their way!"
"Sounds like abject surrender to me," grumbled Morrisson.
"Abject surrender is the only way to deal with a MacTarmack. Oh, by the way, I think you should let me do the talking."
"Why you? I'm the lawyer!"
"Ah... I think Dr. MacTarmack hates you, Morris. You know how sticky women can be about attempted rape. Come on, let's go."
Lucy MacTarmack stiffened as the two men entered the room, glancing nervously at her cousin, who smiled at her reassuringly and took another puff on the funny looking cigarette he had just rolled for himself.
"Doctor MacTarmack," abruptly inquired the stockbroker with the thick glasses, "What is the one thing you would like more than anything in the world?"
"What?" she repeated in surprise.
"Just answer the question, dear."
"I... I would like to be head of my own reptile research center... -" Lucy stammered after some hesitation, glancing back and forth between the two men anxiously. Somehow the attempted rape had unnerved her and she was feeling less sure of herself than before. The thing she really wanted most in the world was a man, of course, someone strong and gallant like her cousin Luther, but she could hardly tell them that.
"I guessed as much. And Luther, what is your heart's fondest desire?" inquired McNalty.
At the moment, Luther's fondest desire was to take his cousin Lucy to bed, but it hardly seemed polite to say so, after all she had been through. He thought for a moment before responding.
"I want to build the world's biggest geodesic dome," he informed them in clipped tones. "My own design, the one you had tattooed on Betsy's uh... breasts."
"Precisely! Just as I suspected!" crowed McNalty happily. "Now, as the representative of the McNalty-Morrisson Foundation for Herpetological and Geodesic Research, I am in a position to offer you both precisely what you desire. The philanthropic foundation which my dear colleague, Mr. Morrisson and I, represent is passionately interested in our charming friends in the reptile world, and we have decided to fund a zoological garden which will specialize solely in reptiles, naturally to be headed by yourself, Doctor MacTarmack, with a life-time unbreakable contract... "
"How wonderful!" Even suspecting a trap, Lucy could not restrain her enthusiasm.
"Wait!" As you know, the major difficulty in keeping our little scaly friends happy in this climate is temperature control. Since this will be the largest reptile collection at New York's latitude, we have decided to enclose the entire reptile research center with a geodesic dome, which will be the largest structure of its kind in existence. The man who builds it, naturally, is going to go down in history as the greatest dome builder of all time. I take it you would accept the commission, Mr. MacTarmack?"
"I reckon so," muttered Luther suspiciously. "Fine! Now in return for all of this, there's just one tiny, insignificant little favor you have to do for Mr. Morrison and I, as your joint financial managers. You have to go to bed immediately and get pregnant. Now!"
"You're out of your mind," shouted Luther, while Lucy simply blushed, too stunned to say anything.
"Not at all," responded the stockbroker smoothly. "Here is the contract, already signed by Mr. Morrisson and myself committing us to finance the MacTarmack Reptile Research Center. We have reason to believe that Doctor MacTarmack is going through her fertile period tonight, and therefore you will have to act promptly. If she is pregnant by tomorrow morning, you both get the dreams of a lifetime, plus a claim on the MacTarmack millions. Think it over, kiddies."
McNalty smiled at them myopically, laid the contract carefully on the table and the two men left the room.
* * *
"Gee!" said Luther MacTarmack, looking at his cousin Lucy and blushing immediately. "Crazy situation."
"Yes, asking two total strangers who happen to be two sensitive people to jump into bed and start procreating like rabbits is so... ah... "
"Insensitive?" suggested Luther, passing Lucy his funny-looking cigarette.
"Oh, that's the exact word! It's wonderful to meet someone who understands how a woman feels about these things!"
"I've always been very sensitive," admitted Luther, closing his eyes and remembering how Lucy had looked when he had first seen her: lusciously naked and struggling futilely in the arms of a rapist. He felt the warm stirring of lust deep in his groin, and fantasized himself working on the world's largest geodesic dome while his beautiful cousin planned the design of her snake cages.
"After all, we hardly know each other," she repeated. "Even if we are distant cousins."
"That's what I was thinking when I was coming all the way from Nebraska to rescue you," Luther reminded her. "I was thinking how I hardly knew you."
"But you came anyway," the girl responded softly, putting her hand tenderly on his shoulder and giving him a cousinly squeeze.
"Well, shucks, it was the least I could do," Luther stroked her radiant red hair absent-mindedly, watching her take an inexpert puff on his funny cigarette and pass it back to him.
"I bet you're the kind of man who could accept a woman as an intellectual and emotional equal," Lucy sighed.
"Sure," agreed Luther cheerfully. He had been thinking of her as his intellectual and emotional superior, but the notion of equality appealed to him. So did the partially revealed swell of her right breast which he could see beneath the raincoat. Lucy had not been given the opportunity to change into normal clothing, and was still totally naked beneath the improvised raincoat she was wearing. Her lush full breasts were rubbing insistently against the rough material of the garment, and the girl could feel her nipples becoming taut and distended.
"I feel so... so grateful to you," she murmured softly, unconsciously moving closer to him on the couch where they were sitting. "I never realized I had a knight in shining armor in my life." Luther put his arm around her protectively, since it seemed to be the thing to do under the circumstances, and pulled her even closer.
"Cousins oughta stick together," he affirmed solemnly, crossing his legs to hide the enormous erection which had begun to show itself.
"I... keep asking myself if what I'm feeling is just gratefulness or... " she murmured softly, putting her face against his broadly masculine chest and stroking his cheek. Her raincoat opened even wider at the throat, and Luther nearly choked as he gazed down at a pair of breasts which made Marge, Betsy and Linda all look flat-chested. Without thinking, he unbuttoned her raincoat to the waist and covered one of her trembling little nipples with his hand. Lucy did not seem disposed to protest, and her hand dropped accidentally into his lap where it rested, apparently by chance, on the throbbing hardness of the engineer's genital equipment.
"My mother always said that MacTarmack men all had... " her blush grew deeper, but she did not take her hand away.
"That's what my mother always said too," remarked Luther, his words muffled a little as he drew the raincoat down over the girl's temptingly white shoulders and kissed the tiny brown buds of her nipples, one after another. "Said it was the only reason she let my old man hang around the house. Ah, what were you saying about being grateful?"
The girl seemed to be preoccupied with the lewd business of caressing Luther's long vibrant penis through his pants and had difficulty concentrating on her answer.
"It's just that... I want to have... a deep meaningful relationship... with a man... " she stammered. "I mean, it would be terrible if I just gave myself... I mean... just because I was... ah... grateful... " Luther undid the belt of her raincoat, surprised that his fingers were working so well under the circumstances, and while he was at it, he undid the belt on his pants, kicking them off with a maneuver which would have amazed Houdini. Lucy immediately wrapped her delicate fingers around the enormity of his cock, confirming everything she had ever been told about MacTarmack men. But somehow the size of him did not worry her as it might have. She was a MacTarmack woman, and presumably, she could handle it! Instinctively, she began to caress his burgeoning member, sliding her fingers up and down his long pulsating penis and pulling the uncircumcised foreskin back as far as it would go.
"We'll... give... this... ah yes... careful consideration... like that, my darling," the voluptuous girl moaned in simple pleasure as Luther stretched her our on the broad comfortable couch, his lips still lasciviously exploring the lush magnificence of her breasts, sucking and biting her bursting little nipples until she thought she was going out of her mind.
"Examine the fine print... " agreed Luther as he rolled on top of her, feeling her long, finely tapered legs scissoring welcomingly apart. "Let's not rush into anything... ahhhhhhhh!!!!" he groaned ecstatically as the swollen tip of his cock brushed lewdly across the softly yielding flesh of her moist young cunt. To his surprise, he found that she was completely ready, the pink lips of her vagina moist and open as if they were begging to be pierced.
"The MacTarmack Reptile Research Center... " she was still desperately trying to talk business as Luther maneuvered the broad glans between the flowering lips of her pussy, and wormed the giant shaft slowly up into her violently fluttering cunt.
"Ooooooooooooohhhhh!" she sang in sheer contentment as he rammed himself home, feeling his battle-hardened cock slide smoothly all the way up to her cushiony cervix. Despite her comparative lack of experience, Lucy was intensely excited and there was no resistance as the man's monstrous cock penetrated her to the hilt. She tried to concentrate on the contract, and the Reptile Center, and how she had almost been foully raped that night, but somehow her well-trained brain could not concentrate on anything but the joyful wet sensation of having a great MacTarmack cock thrust mercilessly up inside her hotly tingling vagina. Of its own accord, her lust-maddened body was twisting and bucking beneath him as Luther began to settle down to some very serious fucking. "Oh Luther," she sobbed in a burst of wild emotion. "How did this happen?" We only met an hour ago!"
"Shut up and fuck!" replied Luther, surging into her with renewed power.
"Yes, Luther," replied the card-carrying member of the Sisterhood of Science, surrendering herself to the man who had saved her, and mentally resolving to skip next Tuesday's meeting of the Sisterhood and make love to Luther instead. If she had only realized it could feel this good, she would never have wasted all these years!
Luther was really hitting his stride now, feeling his passion going up like a prefabricated geodesic dome as her full-mounded breasts crushed maddeningly against his chest, her hardened little nipples digging into his skin like buttons on a coat. Marge, Betsy, Linda, and even the Radcliffe girl were all behind him now. and the young man felt his body filling with lustful energy and self-confidence. He had a decade of poverty and self-denial to make up for, and by God, he was going to start making up, and now! Bracing himself on his knees and elbows, he flicked his loins forward, in a brutal series of frontal assaults, driving his huge cock deep into her inflamed vagina like a battering ram.
Visitors to the Municipal Zoo who had noticed the serene, dignified features of the Assistant Curator of Reptiles behind the Rattlesnake cages would hardly recognize her now. Her statuesque, lust-provoking body was jerking and twisting relentlessly and her face was contorted into a mask of undisguised passion as she bucked and heaved beneath the engineer who was giving his all. Her lips moved soundlessly, as if she wanted to beg him to fuck her even harder and deeper, but could not find the words, and her milk-white skin was covered with a light layer of fragrant musky perspiration. She was racing for fulfillment, for ecstasy, and there was nothing which could conceivably stop her now.
"Oh God... please... I love it so... " she groaned lasciviously, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck.
Luther's experience with women was comparatively limited, but the young engineer realized that his cousin was trembling on the brink of a mind-shattering orgasm, and he worked like a demon to make it come true. She groaned in insane delight as he slipped his sinewy hands beneath the wildly churning cheeks of her buttocks, lifting her ass-cheeks clear into the air as he pummeled her widely spread loins, squirming down into her with every ounce of strength in his rutting body. He could feel the hot moist flesh of her cunt clasping and unclasping around his fiery cock, and the sensation inspired him to even greater efforts. She was moaning and crying as if she were being tortured, and just as Luther began to wonder if he was hurting her with his lust-maddened roughness, she spoke the words he had been waiting to hear.
"I... I'm... cumming," she informed him in a curiously weak voice, almost as if she were surprised, and Luther realized with a shock that she had never before had it like this. Mentally, he thanked Morrisson and McNalty for making all this possible, watching with amazement as Lucy seemed to sail off into an epileptic fit. Her nostrils flared wildly, and her long red hair thrashed back and forth on the couch as she screamed out the fury of an orgasm which seemed to go on forever. Her eyes were open and unseeing and her long elegant thighs gripped him tightly as if she was irrationally afraid that he would desert her in the crucial moment. Her lips pulled back over her shining white teeth, and her fingers dug fiercely into the flesh of her back.
Luther hesitated for the tiniest fraction of a second, wanting to enjoy her cum to the fullest, swelling up with pride as he realized that he had done this, alone and unassisted, and could do it again whenever he liked. Then a hot burning sensation deep in his loins reminded him that he was not finished yet, and he went back to work with a vengeance. Her lushly disturbing body was slippery with sweat and Luther was forced to struggle to control the wild gyrations of her lust-inflamed muscles as her head flailed madly back and forth. She seemed almost inhumanly excited as her first orgasm dissolved and she began to gather steam for the next one almost immediately.
"Oh yes, fuck me, Luther," she gasped, using the obscene word for the first time in her life without shame. After everything that had happened to her, the frenzy of surrendering herself at last to a strong dominant man was nearly driving her out of her mind as the thick lubricating liquids from her cunt poured copiously out of her vagina as Luther battered it into submission. Their bodies seemed almost glued together as her mobile hips answered every thrust and parry from his loins. The room was filled with the sound of wild sex: the harsh panting of Luther's breath, the girl's sharp bird-like cries of ecstasy and the obscene slap of the man's sperm-filled testicles against the unprotected cheeks of her ass.
It was time. As Lucy rose again to the heights of her second orgasm in a matter of minutes, Luther felt the intolerable pressure building deep in his loins, his hips grinding remorselessly into the tenderly yielding flesh of her pussy. He began to cum, and it started slowly, like gentle rain, then increasing in fury like a tropical storm.
"Oh! Oh! Oh!" he moaned in the throes of the wildest physical sensation of his life, stepping up the speed of his stroke until the wild movements of his buttocks became a blur. The hot viscous cum began its wild mindless rush up from the deepest recesses of his balls, and Luther crushed his lips against Lucy's open mouth, nearly crushing his cousin's rib cage with his arms. The semen poured into her receptive womb as he ground his teeth in sheer ecstasy, his cock exploding inside of her lust-shattered vagina. He felt her long smooth legs wrap firmly around his buttocks, pressing him home as his life-giving seed spilled recklessly into her womb, and for a long time the two cousins lay still, feeling their respective orgasms ebb and die.
"Hey Luther?" she murmured in his ear, feeling his cock still twitching restlessly in her satisfied cunt.
"Uh... yes, Lucy?"
"Honey, this is a hell of a time to say so, but I think I'm in love with you."
Luther thought this over for a few minutes, deciding that being in love was as much fun as building a dome. He felt all warm and happy inside, and his slowly wilting cock stopped wilting. Lucy tossed her hips teasingly and the process became irrevocably reversed as the inconquerable MacTarmack cock began to re-harden.
'This is a hell of a time to say so," he repeated with a lascivious grin, "But I think I want to do it again."
"You can only get me pregnant once, you know," she instructed him with a grin.
"Hang on, cousin," he murmured in her ear as his vibrant manhood returned. " 'Cause we're going for twins!"
CHAPTER NINE
"But is it sure?"
"Christ, Morris, she's been examined by fifteen specialists and they all agree she's pregnant! Let's get out there and tell Wild Bill the happy news. He's going to be a great-uncle!"
"O.K., let's go. Can we take your car?"
"What's the matter, the Mercedes have a flat tire?" inquired McNalty considerately.
"No, my chauffeur quit and I can't get used to the idea of having a male driver again," Morrisson reported gloomily.
"At your age, Morris, you should resign yourself to male chauffeurs," advised Scott McNalty, opening the door of his Ferrari for his colleague. "After all, even Wild Bill had to give up chasing the ladies and he thought he could go on forever!"
"I didn't want to go forever," complained the lawyer bitterly, as the two men roared off in the direction of the MacTarmack Estate. "Just as long as Wild Bill did. And I was doing fine with that Swedish girl. She was so... "
"Sexy?"
"No, that's not the word."
"Lust-inspiring?"
"Yes, but what I'm trying to say is... "
"Licentious and uninhibited?"
"Of course, Scott, but the thing about her I liked best was... "
"All those delightful little perversions? Cunnilingus? Anal eroticism?" suggested the stock-broker eagerly.
"Yes, yes, but besides that she made the most heavenly chicken soup you've ever tasted," confessed Morrisson unhappily.
"Chicken soup?"
"I happen to be very fond of chicken soup, Scott," admitted the lawyer soberly. "Listen, have you seen the estimates on the MacTarmack Reptile Research Center? That thing is costing us a bloody fortune!"
"Which we'll get back a hundredfold as soon as Wild Bill kicks off," McNalty assured him as the Ferrari pulled up in front of MacTarmack's front door. "Could be any day now."
"If he ever kicks off."
"If something goes wrong, we can always void the contract," observed the stockbroker reassuringly.
"No we can't. I wrote that contract myself, and it's iron-clad. We're committed to all those damn snakes if we have to sell the spark plugs on this Ferrari to do it."
McNalty shuddered at the thought and was getting out of his car as the door to the mansion opened and Mr. MacTarmack emerged in a track suit, followed by the supple figure of the only woman to have won the Miss Sweden contest twice, also wearing a track suit. Morrisson gazed at her in agony, noticing that she seemed to have put on weight since she left him.
"Hello, boys!" boomed Wild Bill. "Care for a little jogging? Come on! Does wonders for your heart!" And he bounded down the steps, and trotted off across the fields of his private eighteen hole golf course with the Swedish girl in hot pursuit. The lawyer and stockbroker scrambled off after them, double-timing to catch up, although Morrisson was clearly winded after about twenty steps.
"We've come to bring you great news!" panted McNalty, holding his thick bi-focals on with his hands as he jogged along next to the multi-millionaire.
"Yes, it's great news!" agreed Wild Bill with his deep voice. McNalty noticed that his client seemed to be in the pink of good health and a sinking feeling began to creep into his heart. Could Wild Bill have heard the news somehow?
"An heir! A new generation of MacTarmacks!" shouted McNalty.
"Three of 'em!" agreed the eccentric Scot.
"Three of what?" gasped Morrisson, his face turning ashen gray.
"Three kids!" laughed MacTarmack. "You boys haven't been around much lately, but I've been up to my old tricks again. First, I got Miss MacIntyre, then my cardiologist's widow -- poor man dropped dead of a heart attack while jogging - and then my little Swedish friend here. Incidentally, she makes a dynamite chicken soup!"
"They're all pregnant?" screamed Morrisson, falling to his knees, his hand across his heart.
"Every last one of 'em, boys!" chuckled MacTarmack as he jogged away into the distance towards the seventh hole. McNalty sunk down next to the lawyer, who was having a cardiac arrest and sincerely hoping it would kill him. Together, they watched the former Miss Sweden (two times) prancing after the father of her unborn child until they both disappeared into a sand trap on the approach to the thirteenth hole. McNalty watched for a long time, tears streaming down his cheeks, but after five minutes, he saw what looked like Miss Sweden's panties come flying through the air, and understood everything. From the mansion came Miss MacIntyre with oxygen to revive Morrisson and a bowl of Swedish chicken soup for McNalty.
"You were right, Morris," the stockbroker said brokenly. "Absolutely right."
"I told you it would never work," gasped the lawyer from beneath his oxygen mask.
"I meant the chicken soup," said McNalty. "Delicious."
