One thing never leaves our memory in life: that very first experience in anything causing strong sensation and emotion, fear, hate and, especially, sex. We never forget our first experiences, as they are both formative in imprinting our later behavior, and excitingly, wondrously new. If our first experimentations are at an early age with a partner of approximately the same age, that age will continuously hold some fascination, and above all, the unrecoverable innocence of that age will be a constantly turned-to event in our life memory. Just so it is the Gerry Eddy's His Naughty Nymphet, in which our just-past-middleage Herb finds himself stuck with watching a nubile, wide-eyed twelve-year-old lovely and faced with the constant self-reproach for his failure to accomplish sexual fulfillment at that very age with a neighbor girl. This isn't to say Herb is a pedophile; far from it. Simply that the very innocence and sexual attraction of this young girl, coupled with his drive for sexual fulfillment and love, prove to be more than he can handle--and handle he does.
-THE PUBLISHERS
CHAPTER ONE
Son of a bitch! She was twelve, maybe. She was the kind of twelve Herb remembered from half a century ago when he had been in the sixth grade--tits just sprouting, a body just beginning to bloom--the kind of twelve-year-old who had forced every boy in class to dash off to the rest room at least once a day to beat his rebellious cock into submission. And she was wearing shorts. Glancing at the shorts and hurriedly away from the way they puckered in her crotch, Herb guessed the shorts must have been bought when this twelve-year-old nymphet was eleven. "I've got to go fix something," he blurted. "Just wait a few minutes. I'll be back." Christ, how did I get involved with this situation? he wondered as he hurried on to fix the defective plumbing, his thoughts alternating between how he'd become "babysitter" for the young girl and the horny biddy whose plumbing he wished would strangle her...
* * *
Herb stuck his key in the door marked manager. Inside the TV was on, colors askew again as a line of purple-faced chorus girls flaunted their trim asses. He put down the tool tray and sat, too tired and disgusted to adjust the TV. If that goddamn Mrs. Klohn complained one more time about her plumbing...
It wasn't as if there was anything wrong with Mrs. Klohn's plumbing but every time her husband had been on the road for a couple of weeks she began to get itchy. Herb had become inured to the troubles that came with managing this almost new and already falling apart building but he didn't think he would ever grow used to the sight of Mrs. Klohn in a gaping robe hovering over him, rubbing against him as he fiddled with something in the bathroom--something which always worked perfectly despite her protestations that a minute ago when she'd tried it she couldn't get any hot water and what was a poor woman to do all alone and not a stitch on under her robe and wouldn't you like a cup of coffee, or maybe a glass of wine, or a cocktail or--oh, Christ!
He stifled his anger and tried to concentrate on the line of kicking chorines. It was no use. Herb was fifty, going on sixty-one as he sometimes admitted to himself. At his age he needed all the help he could get. It wasn't a question of getting it up. Once in a while he could manage that. But what Herb really enjoyed these days was just to sit quietly in the dark and watch all the lovely young stuff on the tube and... and that goddamn Mrs. Klohn had spoiled the whole goddamn evening for him! Now every time he looked at something young and lovely on the tube the image of her flaccid body going to fat would be superimposed. It wasn't fair. Goddamn it, he was not as young as he used to be but Herb had never let himself go.
He still had enough hair. Hair and mustache were gray, nearly white already but he had never gone in for greasy kid games with dye. And if he had let himself go, would every woman over forty in this building keep inviting him up to fix this and that?
Why in hell couldn't some of the younger ones get the same ideas? Herb suspected that if that blonde thirty-year-old two doors down were to develop a father complex he'd have no trouble getting it up for her. Why did it always have to be the old bags who got the hots for him? Thinking about her, he experienced a faint stirring of his loins.
He sighed and got up to fix the TV and--son of a bitch! His pants were standing out the way they--Herb had a hard-on! How about that, he marveled. He put an appreciative hand over the bulge in his pants and caressed it. He didn't really want to do anything. Mostly, he was just curious about how long he could keep it up. He fine-tuned the TV and settled back in his chair to watch the chorines just as the production number was drawing to a close. Shit, he thought.
The buzzer on his door sounded. Double shit! he thought. If that's Mrs. Klohn again I'll stuff my hard-on into her mouth and make her suck it! But then he remembered that he was the manager of these apartments. He had to be polite to the old bitch, no matter how much of a pain in the ass she was. He tried to remind himself that she was actually paying him a compliment. Mrs. Klohn must be twenty years younger than he was. And still she was panting for the feel of something firm sliding into her--something his. He sighed and opened the door and it wasn't Mrs. Klohn. It was the young blonde from two doors down.
"Mr. Herbert--?" There was diffidence and embarrassment in her voice and he suddenly knew there was going to be trouble over the rent. Then he remembered she had paid her rent only days ago. It was too early for that kind of problem.
"What can I do for you?" he asked. No chance of doing what he'd really like to do for her. She was built like the proverbial brick pagoda. Her face was unlined, her skin clear and smooth. Her straight blonde hair was gathered at the nape as if she were getting ready for a bath, too. He tried not to sigh. This time it would be a real emergency with the plumbing. And this time this lovely, smooth-skinned firm-bodied young woman would not hover over him or rub against him. She would disappear and leave him to wrestle with the plumbing. Oh, well, what the hell? One look at her was worth more than an evening of X-rated TV. "What can I do for you?" he repeated.
"I'm sorry to bother you," she said, "But I really do have a problem."
"Plumbing or electrical?"
"Domestic."
"I beg your pardon."
"Are you busy this evening?"
"No more so than any other evening," Herb said cautiously.
"Well I--" She hesitated, then spread her hands helplessly. "I don't know where to turn," she finally managed. "It's not the kind of thing I'd ask a man to do, but I've been watching you fend off the old man-traps in this building, and you seem to be a decent person so I wondered if I could impose on you just this once--?"
"For what?" Herb's hard-on was gone. No matter what this lovely young person wanted, it would never develop into what he wanted from her. There were girls with father complexes and then there were girls who saw men of Herb's age as fathers--which was something quite different. She needed some kind of a favor and any girl her age and with her looks would have a dozen studs panting to do her favors. If she had to come to an old man and a stranger... He wondered whatever happened to his World War II gas mask. Sure as hell, in a few minutes he was going to be ass-deep in shit of some kind.
"I'm a barmaid," she explained. "Ill be home about half an hour after closing time, two-ay-emm. She's old enough to take care of herself, but she might get frightened all alone in that apartment so I gave her your phone number and... "
"Who's she?" Herb asked.
"My sister's girl. Sis dumped her on me for a week while she and her steady go off to Vegas. Really no trouble if you'd just look in from time to time."
"I've never diapered a baby in my life," Herb lied.
"Oh you won't have to do anything like that!" the blonde promised. "Really, she's a big girl."
"How big?"
"Twelve."
Herb tried not to sigh. It was an impossibly bitchy age if he recalled anything from the family he had once raised. He supposed she would be fat and pimply, with- thick lensed glasses and a three word vocabulary, one third of which would surely be something like 'yuck' or 'barfy'.
"I'm leaving for the weekend early tomorrow morning," he said.
"Oh, that's all right. I'll be leaving for work in half an hour but I'll be home by two-thirty, and I've got tomorrow off. If you could just be home tonight in case she gets frightened or anything. " Herb guessed it was the least he could do. It beat fucking around with bathtub faucets and Mrs. Klohn rubbing her belly against him. "All right," he said. "I'll be here all night. If she gets nervous she can call and I'll do what I can. "
"Oh, thank you Mr. Herbert!" Before Herb had time to prepare himself the lovely blonde had kissed him and was gone. He stood bemused in the open doorway a moment, then finally closed it and went back to the TV. The girls were gone. Instead a man in evening clothes was telling Merv Griffin some pointless anecdote about show business people. Herb wondered if there was still a can of beer in the refrigerator.
The phone rang.
He stretched from his chair and picked it up.
"Hi. Anybody there?"
Shit! Another angle to peddle cutlery or magazine subscriptions. If the tenants didn't have to be continually looking up his number Herb would have had it unlisted. "No," he said soberly. "There ain't nobody here but us chickens."
"This's Evie. I'm just checking."
"Evie who?" Saying it, Herb suddenly realized this must be the twelve-year-old the blonde had wished on him. Suddenly he wondered what she looked like. Some girls at twelve could be real beauties. But they were usually secure and didn't have to go around using the telephone for a pacifier. "Oh, yes," Herb said. "You're the little girl two doors down the hall, aren't you?"
"The 'two-doors' part is right."
"I beg your pardon?"
"I'm not a little girl."
Herb laughed. "That's a matter of opinion," he said. "When you're my age, then somebody your age is little."
"How old are you?"
"Old enough to be your grandfather."
"My grandfather flies in the air force."
Herb suppressed a sigh. "I'm afraid it's been a while since I did any flying," he said. The man in evening clothes finally stopped telling his interminable joke, and Merv was now interviewing a lovely lady who was hanging half out of her clothes. Herb felt a stirring in his loins again. He tried to concentrate on the girl in the tube. "What was that?" he said absently.
"I think it's a mouse."
"Nonsense," Herb said firmly. "This is a new building. We don't have any mice. Not yet anyway."
"Well, maybe it's a rat, then."
Herb sighed. There was going to be no peace until he indulged this little pain-in-the-ass's curiosity and let her have a look at her protector. "I'll be right over," he promised. He was walking toward the door when the phone buzzed again.
Herb growled a learned obscenity and picked it up. "I'm on my way," he said.
"Oh, good. I'm so sorry to bother you again but this time the handle just came off right in my hand and the tub is going to overflow and--" It was Mrs. Klohn again.
"Christ on a crutch!" Herb muttered as he hung up the phone. He picked up his tools. The bitch must have wrenched the handle right out by the roots. She must really be hard up. It was funny. She was in her early forties but not all that bad. Older and uglier women seemed to have no trouble finding men.
Bent from the weight of his tool tray, he started down the hall. Then suddenly he remembered the little girl. He tapped on her door. It opened immediately.
Son of a bitch! She was twelve, maybe. She was the kind of twelve Herb remembered from half a century ago when he had been in the sixth grade--tits just sprouting, a body just beginning to bloom--the kind of twelve-year-old who had forced every boy in class to dash off to the rest room at least once a day to beat his rebellious cock into submission. And she was wearing shorts. Glancing at the shorts and hurriedly away from the way they puckered in her crotch Herb guessed the shorts must have been bought when this twelve-year-old was eleven. "I've got to go fix something," he blurted. "Just wait a few minutes. I'll be back."
Not that it'll do me a goddamn bit of good to come back, he knew. A bold and enterprising boy either got into something like this when he, too, was twelve--or else spent the rest of his life cursing the wasted chance. He padded off down the hall to begin the beguine with Mrs. Klohn.
"Oh, thank heavens you've come!" she gushed. From the sound, the water in the bath was gushing, too.
He went in and it was within an inch of overflowing the tub. "Why didn't you open the drain?" he asked.
"But it's so hot--" Herb opened the drain and got pliers over the faucet stem. Moments later he had gotten out the broken screw end and had the handle firmly screwed back on. This time Mrs. Klohn wasn't pressing him so hard. He wondered if her conscience was guilty. "I'll have to rush," he said. "There's another tenant with troubles, too."
"Oh, dear!" Mrs. Klohn was still in her peignoir. Her full firm breasts pushed it out until he could see down the cleavage clear to her surprisingly deep belly button. For a moment he was reminded of the girl on TV. Then he remembered the inaccessible twelve-year-old. Damn! He'd had a chance once in the sixth grade to get it into a nymphet like that. Why couldn't he have known then what he knew now?
Mrs. Klohn was moving closer. "I'd offer you coffee," she said, "but I know it does things to people this time of night." She had come closer still. She was wearing some kind of heavy perfume. The smell of it reminded him of something-something years ago when he had still been able to-- "So that's why I thought you might like a highball better." she was saying. From nowhere she had produced a tray with two glasses.
Herb guessed the quickest way to escape was to drink one. "Cheers," he said. As he was raising his glass Mrs. Klohn was slowly descending. For an instant he thought she was fainting or something, then he realized she was only kneeling in front of him.
"Why Mr. Herbert," she enthused, "You're really all man, aren't you?"
Shit! His memory of the girl on TV, coupled with the momentary vision of the precocious twelve-year-old girl had betrayed him. Mrs. Klohn was admiring the bulge of his hard-on. Unbelieving, he felt her hand cupping his crotch, her other hand working at his zipper. Then suddenly he remembered what he had thought of making her do earlier this evening. Nobody was going to have to make Mrs. Klohn do anything, he guessed. Warm, smooth and wet her lips were sliding slowly down over the hot throbbing head of his cock.
CHAPTER TWO
This isn't really happening, Herb told himself. Mrs. Klohn isn't really giving me a blow job. But with a half empty glass in his hand, with a full throbbing cock now deep in her mouth, there wasn't much he could do but stand there and admit to himself that it was happening--that he was getting sucked off by Mrs. Klohn.
There was going to be trouble, he knew. Once he started with this insatiable woman how could he end it? She would be beating on his door night and day. If only he could make it go down--convince her that he was too old and tired for this kind of fun and games... but the memory of that firm-bodied little twelve-year-old in the skimpy blouse and tight shorts was too recent. His cock was hot, hard, throbbing as it used to thump twenty years ago when he had still been a respectable stud.
He tried to remember the color of the little girl's hair. All he could remember was the way those too tight shorts had puckered in her crotch, biting into firm thighs and ass, outlining the shape of her prominent, pubescent pussy as she had stood in the doorway. What color was her hair? He didn't know. He knew it didn't make any difference.
Mrs. Klohn had him now. There was no way to break this off until it ended the only way a blow job could end. Then he could stuff it back in his pants and get back to see whatever the little girl wanted and then, after a quick blow job, maybe he could get to sleep and not torture himself with vain regrets about all the little girls he should have been fucking when he was a little boy...
He put his hands down inside Mrs. Klohn's gaping peignoir and captured her tits. They were full forties but much firmer than he had expected. How many years had it been since he had warmed the palms of his hands over warm throbbing tits, felt hard-as-marbles nipples grow and swell between his fingers? Longer than he wanted to remember. But what the hell? He was fifty, going on sixty-one. He had a hard-on; he had a woman's mouth surrounding that hard-on. He had a woman's tongue running in loving circles up, down, around the throbbing head of a cock he had suspected might never again experience these remembered delights. It was no time to philosophize.
Carpe diem was the word of the day. Back in the days when young people still learned their Latin, Herb had learned to translate that hoary phrase as "Get it while you can."
Mrs. Klohn's peignoir was slipping down off her shoulders, slowly revealing the junoesque proportions of her forty-year-old, forty-inch-titted body. She was really something else, now that her pressing anxiety had evaporated in the heat of fulfillment. He was sorry now that he hadn't let her get at him sooner. What the hell was he doing standing up here in a tiled bathroom when he could have been spread out at his ease in her bedroom? For an instant he was tempted to drag her to her feet and... To hell with that noise. She would finish undressing him, and act one would lead to act two, and act two would lead to... Suddenly he remembered the little girl down the hall. If he was going to be able to look at her without his fingers cramping from the suppressed desire to grab, to fondle and feel--Mrs. Klohn might not know for whom she was working, but at least she was working. Boy, was she ever working!
The peignoir had slipped down off her shoulders now. She flung out an arm and the sleeve came free. Moments later she was bare to the waist, gaping peignoir held only by the loose-tied sash. Herb bent slightly, the better to get his hands over her firm fullcut forties. To his surprise her shoulders weren't lined by the deep cut of a bra strap. Son of a bitch! Was this woman still so firm at forty that she had no need of a brassiere to hold up those jubilant jugs? And all this time he had been avoiding her like the plague...
Oh, well. Herb knew perfectly well why he had been avoiding her and all the other women in this building. If he could get it up once a month, he considered it par for the course at his age. And it was better to keep his fly zipped and some kind of a reputation than to end up with the embarrassment of some woman crawling all over him while his flaccid cock betrayed the fact that he had been fifty for a trifle over eleven years now.
But goddamn! His cock sure wasn't flaccid now. He thrust and Mrs. Klohn gave a grateful moan. He had supposed she would do the usual back and forth bit, bobbing her head along with the thrust of his pelvis, but abruptly Herb realized that there must have been some redeeming artistry in Deep Throat after all. At least it had taught a generation of amateurs how to relax, open up and take Life as It Comes.
Smoothly, the hot throbbing head of his hammer slid down Mrs. Klohn's gullet. She gave a low deep humming moan of pleasure and the vibration sent a joyous thrill right up his backbone. Herb's hands flew from her tits. He captured her ears, then he was cradling the nape of her neck, pulling her head onto his cock like a glove.
She didn't fight him. Most women, he knew, would be choking and gagging by now with all that marvelous length of meat deep past their throbbing palate. But Mrs. Klohn was moaning, crooning her joy, her vocal cords vibrating as her lips pressed against the front of his scrotum. Her hand came from around his ass and crept into his pants to cup his balls. Her other hand was fiddling with his belt, struggling for more access to pleasureland.
Herb unlatched his belt buckle and as his trousers descended to half mast Mrs. Klohn expressed her gratitude with a caressing hand which counted the hairs on his balls, ran a tantalizing finger up and down the sensitive crack from scrotum to asshole. He got his hands back on her head. Not that there was any need. Mrs. Klohn was an expert, knowing exactly how hard to thrust forward as she drove his dong deep down her throat, held it there for a minute or two while she swallowed repeatedly and massaging muscles milked him, caressing, squeezing, struggling to draw the vital fluid from his throbbing prostate.
Slowly, she retreated and Herb's hammer slid backward, the thumping, throbbing head of his cock moving past her palate with a little thuck! Like a cork from a bottle. Her agile tongue laved the sensitive underside of his peeled cockhead, ran a loving tip around the tight stretched foreskin.
Slowly her head retreated until her warm lips barely touched the tip of his tool. For the barest of instants Herb's cock was clear outside, back in the cold cruel world as her lips pursed. Then she kissed the angry purple tip of his throbbing prick, kissed the hurt away and did her loving best to reduce the swelling.
Her lips opened as the kiss grew into an all absorbing expression of all encompassing love. He felt the warmth of her breath flow past the bare sensitized end of his existence, then as her lips parted he was once more sliding back into warmth, into love, into security and into--WOW!
Loose lips slid gently back and forth around the bulge of his hard-on, peeling the years away as he was reminded of the way things used to be--the years when this kind of thing had happened every night, happened so often that he had occasionally had to go hide out in the mountains just for a rest.
Not that he really gave a fuck about fishing, but even now Herb still had his battered pickup and camper parked behind this building, an every ready excuse to get away from these homy bitches whenever they become too insistent.
But right now Herb was not interested in escape. Damn! All the months Mrs. Klohn had been pursuing him and he had been avoiding her. He had supposed she was just another silly matron on the wrong side of menopause, yearning for adventure but too timid to really do anything. He was so sick of these silly bitches who practically undressed him and then expected the whole dreary routine complete with flowers--as if they were addle-pated virgins instead of women who'd been fucking steadily for twenty years and ought to be able to get down to business.
Mrs. Klohn sure knew how to get down to business. She had stopped sliding her lips back and forth over the bulge of his cock while her tongue ran around its sensitive tip. She took a deep breath and began to draw him in deep again, swallowing to pull the hot throbbing knob past her palate, pull him deep down her throat until her lips were crushed against the crisp, just-starting-to-gray hairs of his pubis. She began humming again.
There were compensations to growing old Herb had to admit. Forty five years ago, the first time he had ever had his cock in a girl's mouth, he had been so young and hair-triggered that her warm breath had set him off in blurting, hurting, spurting confusion before she could even properly get it in. Now...
He couldn't get it up as often nowadays. But at fifty-eleven, once a man got it up, he could keep it there all day. And oh, Christ, did it ever feel good to have Mrs. Klohn swallowing his cock! His hands fell from the nape of her neck. She didn't need any coaching. Her hands were still busy in his crotch, cupping his balls, counting hairs, tickling his scrotum into squirming ecstasy. Even ten years ago Herb knew he would have come by now, would have fired his load with an explosive force that would have uprooted this willing woman's tonsils.
But now... now he could relax and let her do her damnedest. Why hadn't he led her to the bed so he could lie down. Hell, this could go on for hours. Why was he standing here in a tiled bath with his pants around his ankles when he could be flat on his back with this firm-bodied venus crouching over him, kneeling between his flexed knees, bobbing her head up and down over his indefatigable, rigidly erect cock?
It might go on for hours. And even then he might not come. It felt so good--so unexpectedly good after all these years. How long, he wondered, could he let this go on before he succumbed to the agonies of a stone ache?
It felt so wondrously good, but Herb had managed enough superannuated fucking to know how seldom a man of his age could achieve a true orgasm. He remembered the throbbing, rip-roaring spurting dam-busting cascades of passion juice that had punctuated his youth. God, it had all been so good, so good he sometimes shed tears of mixed regret and delight at the memory.
But eleven years after his fiftieth birthday the rites of love seldom achieved that climax anymore. Instead, he had turned into a true lady's delight--a cock seemingly incapable of relaxation. His hard-on was good for hours, until fatigue and pain gradually destroyed it. Sometimes he could achieve a weak spurt, a tiny flurry to remind him of those gallon-sized gobs of goo that had terminated a love bout when he was younger. But all too often he couldn't even manage that. After an hour or two of pleasuring some woman his cock would slowly wilt. He had learned to sense when it would come and to feign a sudden culmination of passion that would explain his loss of rigidity.
It wasn't hard to do. Women did it all the time. Sometimes they even managed to convince an inexperienced partner that the sudden access of moaning and groaning and twisting was uncontrollable passionate orgasm instead of just a handy way to end it all while planning tomorrow's menu with the other half of their frigid minds.
Herb suspected he might have to do something like this in order to break the vital connection between his cock and Mrs. Klohn's insatiable mouth. Then he remembered that he was not fucking. Unless he could produce a mouthful of come there would be no convincing this woman. She would need a gagging mouthful of love's salty elixir to convince her that he was through for the night. And tomorrow?
Jesus! It was fun now but she would be ringing his phone night and day now that she had gotten past the barrier of his zipper. Would there be any peace? And worse than that, there were all the other homy women in this building. Mrs. Klohn would not brag locker room style as men have been known to do. But she would flaunt her conquest in other more subtle ways and by tomorrow they would all know that she had finally coaxed a cock out of his reluctant fly. What would it be like after that? Maybe he ought to take the camper up into the mountains for a weekend. After all, he was entitled to one weekend a month away from this job...
Tomorrow they all would know. The old ones, the young ones, every woman in this building would sense the subtle change in erotic climate.
Even the young barmaid from two doors down the hall would know. Not that it would make any difference with anybody that young. She was clear out of Herb's league.
To hell with it, he told himself. I've got a woman blowing me. Why do I have to go worrying about tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow? Enjoy it.
She was still swallowing, lips pressed against the crisp hairs of his pubis, one hand busy with his balls while her other wrapped round his bare ass as she struggled to drive his dong another millimeter deeper down her throat.
She was running a fingernail gently up and down his perineum, gently tickling the tender skin between balls and asshole. He felt his stiff cock rise still more to meet the occasion. He felt a tiny preliminary quiver and wondered if he was actually going to come or if that was it--all that was going to happen. She was still swallowing, her throat muscles lovingly massaging the head of his hard-on and--and it felt good.
If only he could stop thinking about the complications. Hell, no matter how old or how young, there were always complications when he had fucked a strange woman. But that had never stopped him from doing it. He thrust at her, struggling to drive it deeper down her willing throat. She began humming again and as the vibration assaulted his squirming scrotum he could feel anticipation rise. Maybe he was going to make it after all...
CHAPTER THREE
He cupped his hands over her tits and struggled to drive all thoughts of tomorrow from his mind, to concentrate on the sheer physical joy of handling a firm, full-bodied woman, of a woman willing to do all the things he had dreamed of when he was young. She was sucking his cock, she was licking it, tickling his asshole and caressing his balls. What the hell else did he want?
It was harder than it had been in years--rock hard and throbbing like the good old days. Somewhere deep inside him he felt another tiny premonitory quiver and realized that it wasn't over. If he could just keep his mind on his business he was going to come, going to give this willing woman a mouthful of joy juice. And then he could go back to his apartment and go to bed and sleep and--oh, Jesus!
He had forgotten all about the little girl he was supposed to be babysitting. He had to get back there and look in on her and convince her that there were no mice or whatever...
Thinking about her he remembered that firm little body, the skimpy blouse which revealed her just budding breasts, the way her threadbare shorts had been outgrown by the swelling contours of her twelve-year-old girl's ass. Damn! If only he'd been the boy at twelve that he had been five years later. But five years later he'd been boffing girls two or three years his senior and would have slashed his wrists before he'd have bothered with a twelve-year-old. How could he have known then that someday he would be eleven years past fifty and that the only regret in his life was the twelve-year-old girl next door who had gone unfucked?
Thinking about it he suddenly remembered where he was. Mrs. Klohn was still kneeling before him, her mouth and throat wrapped possessively around his throbbing cock. She was keening now, not humming into his balls as she had been doing before. There was a thin singing note to her voice and he realized she was approaching some kind of a crisis.
Then abruptly he realized what had happened. Thinking about the little girl had given his batteries an extra charge. And this willing woman thought she had done it to him. The sudden hardening and throbbing of his cock had set her off. She was moaning and groaning, keening, would be shrieking at the top of her lungs if she didn't have six hot throbbing inches of cock stuffed down her throat.
Her nipples were rock hard in his hands. He closed his thumbs and forefingers over them, twiddling, squeezing gently as she slid her head rapidly back and forth over the smooth slick length of his lance.
It felt good. Wow, did it ever feel good! But Herb knew with a sinking feeling that it didn't feel good enough. He might be good for another half hour but then, sooner or later his hard-on would slowly wilt. And Mrs. Klohn would sense her failure and would feel guilty and would project it all onto him and--and Christ only knew what a woman like her would do.
She was still moaning and keening, her head bobbing frantically as she struggled to pull his load from him. Her body, her face and shoulders at least, were suffused with a ruddy glow of passion. Then, while he watched, she abruptly went marble white. The keening moan subsided with a tiny sobbing sound. His cock slipped from her mouth and her head lolled.
For one panic-stricken moment Herb thought she was having a heart attack. Then he realized what had happened. Mrs. Klohn either didn't get too much even when her husband was home--or else he had really turned her on. Mrs. Klohn had just come with a gut-wrenching violence that had sent her into a dead faint.
Herb didn't know whether to be annoyed or relieved. His cock was still hot, hard, throbbing. For an instant he was tempted to drag her in onto the bed and stuff it up her cunt in a final, go-for-broke effort to unload. Then he realized this was the blessing he had been praying for. He could retire from this engagement without losing face. When she came to Mrs. Klohn would assume he had come as joyously and explosively as she. There would be no call for him to hang around. He lifted her to her feet.
She was half conscious and all gratitude. She let him lead-drag her to her bed. Quietly, he got a blanket over her. He turned out the light, picked up his tools and was halfway out the door when he realized his pants were still askew, his fly still unzipped.
He forced the foreskin down over the head of his still stiff cock, forced his hard-on inside his pants, and crept down the dim-lit hall with his tool tray in front of him to conceal the bulge. Maybe with a cold shower he could get it down and get to sleep.
It had, all things considered, been a good night. Even if he hadn't managed to come, it had felt good after all these years to have a woman try her best. It was nice to know he could still turn them on.
A door opened. He sighed, then realized his tool tray was covering the telltale bulge in his crotch. He wondered if Mrs. Klohn's joyous noises had been audible through the thin walls.
"Took you long enough."
Son of a bitch! Could he be getting senile already? He had completely forgotten about the little girl. He turned to face her.
"What happened? You must've been in there an hour."
"Oh, yeah," he said absently. "Mrs. Klohn's plumbing went on the fritz. I had to fix it."
"How about me?"
"What's wrong in your place?"
"I heard a mouse."
"I told you there aren't any mice--"
"All right," she pouted. "A rat, then."
Herb sighed. "I'll be right back," he promised. "Just let me put these tools away." Before she could protest he gained the refuge of his apartment. He locked the door behind him, then rushed to the bath and washed his cock with cold water. It wasn't exactly aching, but there was the first tiny tendril of pain that could grow into a ball-busting stone ache if he couldn't get this swelling down for a moment.
Years ago he would have squeezed it off, massaged a load out and gone to sleep relaxed and happy but now... if Mrs. Klohn couldn't make him come with her licking and sucking there was little point in fucking his fist. He caught cold water in the glass and poured it over the tip of his cock until finally, grudgingly his hard-on began to subside. There was a knock on the door.
Sighing, he zipped up and went to open the door. It was the little girl. "Oooohhh," she said. "Your place is really groovy!"
His place was exactly like hers except for a few books and mementos of his earlier life. Before he could stop her the twelve-year-old dashed through the open door and bounced on his bed, her bare legs pointing skyward. Suddenly his half flaccid cock was growing again.
Jesus! he thought. If letting Mrs. Klohn blow me can lead to trouble, just think of the kind of trouble that could come from what I'm thinking . about every time I look at that twelve-year-old girl's ass! She was still bouncing and rolling on the bed. He had to get her out of here. Even if he never even thought about touching her this curvaceous little girl was just too delectable to be running around loose in some old man's apartment. He realized now what the blonde bar maid had been worried about. This child was all innocence, too young to realize the effect her tight little ass was having on him just watching her clown around on the bed with her legs in the air, with her thighs wide apart as she bounced and her straining little body outlined itself in those too tight shorts and that skimpy blouse and--oh, Jesus, what was he thinking?
"Let's go see about that mouse," he said firmly.
He supposed he ought to feel insulted the way the little girl's delectable blonde aunt had automatically assumed he was too old, too trustworthy to be dangerous. But what the hell--hadn't that been exactly the kind of impression he had been struggling to convey to all the hard-up, hard-on hungry bitches in this building? He had no cause to complain when his strategy had been successful. But how could he have guessed that it was going to lead him into a mess like this?
She was still bouncing about on his bed. "Haven't you ever seen a bed before?" he snapped.
"Not soft like this."
"Every apartment in this building has exactly the same bed," he said. "Now let's go check out that mouse."
Reluctantly, she rolled off the bed and was in front of him. She was tall for her age, about to his armpit he guessed. Like her aunt's her hair was blonde and straight and hung nearly to her waist.
She had it bound loosely with a ribbon between her shoulder blades. As he walked behind her to the second door down the hall he could study her body without her seeing his eyes on her. It was enough to make him weep. She was an exact carbon copy of that little girl next door--the one he should have fucked forty years ago.
If the girl were to turn and face him in a strong light he knew the nipples of her tiny just-budding breasts would be visible beneath this flimsy material. Just as every contour, every follicle of her burgeoning little ass was outlined in those too tight shorts. The damned things must actually pain her. He wondered what twelve-year-old's irrationality made her hang onto something this old and outgrown. A security blanket?
Surely she had better clothes. But after all, she was home for the evening. She wasn't going anywhere. She was entitled to wear what she wanted. But if she was ever to make it to thirteen, this little girl was going to have to learn to cover up that little body.
What was he thinking about? Getting old, old man, he told himself. But it wasn't just little girls. Nowadays full grown women flaunted their full-blown bodies on any beach with barely enough cloth to cover their pubic hair. By modern standards this little girl was properly, decently dressed. She might have been coming from a Sunday school picnic.
But as he followed her the few steps to an apartment two doorways down the hall Herb was acutely aware of his cock, that in spite of Mrs. Klohn's Herculean efforts he still carried a charge in his venerable single shot weapon. Why couldn't he have faced an evening of responsibility over this child with an empty gun?
God, what would the world be like if we could all read one another's thoughts? He wondered what this child would do if she could just realize the effect her budding little body was having on him. But children of that age never realized anything.
He remembered how he used to regard adults as furniture, as coin machines, as candy dispensers--but never as human beings with needs of their own. But give her another couple of years... once she learned how that itch between her legs could be scratched... but even then she would never dream that anyone over twenty could be afflicted with the same itch. Thank God she couldn't read his thoughts.
But he couldn't help wondering just what her reaction would be if she realized how desperately he wanted just to touch that trim little body. Crazy, he knew. Maybe it was approaching senility. But somewhere deep within his tired old body Herb knew that one tiny touch, one accidental rub against that twelve- year-old, nubile body would be enough to give him the release that Mrs. Klohn's frantic cocksucking had been unable to achieve.
They came to her door and the girl produced a key. Abruptly Herb realized she wasn't quite as innocent as he thought. Ignorant perhaps of the sort of fun and games he had been thinking about, but at least this child was citywise enough to lock her door when she stepped out, even if only for a minute.
She struggled with the key. She continued struggling and finally he had to open the door for her. He followed her inside and she turned on the lights. This apartment was a mirror image of his own, save that its furnishings were exclusively feminine, with bits of lingerie strewn to dry here and there, with all the tiny clues to femininity he remembered from his family-raising days. The girl sat on a sofa and looked expectantly at him.
"Well?" she asked.
Herb caught his breath, then abruptly realized she must be talking about the mouse. "You'll have to show me where it is," he said.
"Where what is?"
Though he was grateful just for the opportunity to be in the same room, to be close enough to feast his old eyes on her firm little body, Herb felt a flash of annoyance. "The mouse!" he snapped.
"It might be a rat."
"It might be a kangaroo but you'll have to show me where you saw it."
"I didn't really see it."
"Oh?" Herb turned to leave.
"I heard it."
"Where?"
"Under the bed."
"Hmmmmmm. Perhaps you'd better show me."
She bounded from the couch and into the bedroom. Herb followed just in time to see her head disappear beneath the edge of the bedspread. She flung it up and tried to crawl in deeper. Her tiny ass strained against the too tight shorts and Herb wondered if there were any way in God's world that he could somehow 'accidentally' brush his hand against that pulchritudinous little ass. He could feel his half dormant hard-on reviving by leaps and bounds.
"Come on," she said, "Look under the bed with me."
CHAPTER FOUR
It was too good to be true. Herb managed to control his breathing. Goddamn! He was panting, actually gasping for air as he had not done even when Mrs. Klohn had been doing her damnedest to swallow him. But he had to be careful. As a matter of fact, if he expected to keep living in this town, in this building, he had to be so careful he'd better not come within a foot of touching this trim little body. If her lovely blonde aunt was worried about a little girl being frightened...
Carefully, he got on his knees and edged in under the bed beside her. "Can you see him?" she asked.
Herb said diplomatically that it was a trifle too dark. Before he realized it, she was gone, leaving him with his head under the edge of the bed. A moment later the spread twitched up from the floor on the opposite side and she was coming in to face him. A lot more light was coming in, too. Suddenly Herb realized the girl wasn't lying. There had been a mouse here. He didn't see any mouse but he doubted if the blonde bar maid would be keeping black rice under her bed. He sighed. Tomorrow he'd have to call the exterminating company again.
"What's your name?" the girl asked.
"Herb." She had wriggled under the bed until their faces were only a foot apart. "What's yours?" he asked.
"My name's Evie."
"That's a nice name," Herb said inanely. He wanted to get out from under this goddamn bed before he got a crick in his neck. He started to ooze cautiously backwards.
"Are you ticklish?" she asked.
"In some places," Herb admitted.
"So's my grandfather."
"The one in the air force?"
"How'd you know that?"
Herb was about to say, 'you told me' when she scooted out from under the bed. Suddenly she was astraddle his back and digging her fingers into his ribs. "Are you ticklish there?" she asked.
Herb was too busy bumping his head to answer. Finally he was out from under the low box spring and could roll over. His tormentor rolled over too with a wonderful flashing tangle of bare arms and legs. As she struggled to tickle him again, Herb watched for his moment.
His hand shot out and he captured her by the crotch. As he sat up, lifting her she giggled. "My grandfather always grabs me that way," she said.
Herb wondered if the air force pilot had the same things on his mind when he was horsing around with this delectable little doll. His cock gave a wondrous exultant leap, but the release he had been praying for did not come. He released his grip before Evie could become nervous. "I'd better go now," he said lamely.
"Stay."
"Why?"
"I'm afraid of the rat."
"It's only a mouse."
"Oooohhh! Then there really is one!"
Too late Herb saw his mistake. She had been making it up after all. The mouse turds beneath the bed were only coincidence. "Yes, "he sighed, "There is one. I'll call a man tomorrow and he'll come and catch it."
"Can I watch?"
Herb shrugged. "Are you going to be here?"
"Momma's going to work in Las Vegas. She said I was going to be here a long time."
Herb wondered if this was good or bad news. It wasn't the same story the- blonde aunt had told him. If she thought he was going to be responsible for this little girl every night while she was out working... "You'd better get your pajamas on and go to bed," he admonished. "Because that's what I'm going to do." He got up from the floor, wishing he could find an excuse to grab another handful of her little ass but... he was lucky she hadn't screamed or gotten frightened. Better quit while he was ahead and still on this side of the bars. "Good night," he said firmly and closed the door. He waited in the hallway until he heard her snap the bolt.
He was in the shower when he heard his phone ring again. "Fuck it!" he growled, and continued his bath. Not a bad old body for fifty-eleven. He was medium height, getting a little stringy here and there, but at least he had never let himself go to fat and flab. The hair on his chest was whiter than his head and mustache. Even the tuft around his cock was graying. But even here in the shower trying to compose himself for bed that indefatigable cock was still standing out at a respectable angle.
God, how he hated this turned-on-all-the-time feeling. In the old days, he could stick it in a woman, give her a couple of pokes, fire his load and go away happy. Now nothing seemed able to do the trick. He had held high hopes for that joyous moment when he had finally gotten his hand into little Evie's crotch and even that hadn't worked. What the hell? If Mrs. Klohn's best efforts with lips and tongue couldn't coax it out of him, what could a twelve-year-old virgin do?
He closed the hot water faucet, wincing as the full force of the cold struck him. He stood back until it was pouring over his cock. Still half hard. Damn! He guessed he'd just have to go to bed this way.
He closed the cold water valve and--the goddamn phone was still ringing. Shit! He wanted to go to bed and ignore it but if anybody had the patience to hang onto it this long it just might be a real emergency. He gave himself a quick swipe with the towel and crossed the apartment just as it began ringing again. "Mr. Herbert?"
"Yes." Heart sinking, he recognized Mrs. Klohn's voice. "Don't tell me you're having more trouble with your plumbing."
"Oh no, " she cooed. "I just thought you might like to come back for a few minutes and finish your drink."
"I think we'd better make it some other night," Herb said. Then he had a sudden inspiration. "When I got back, some of the other tenants were screaming about the noise." While Mrs. Klohn was gasping he managed to hang up. Before he could get to bed the phone rang again.
He wondered if there was any possible remark that could turn off a woman like Mrs. Klohn. 'I like you fine, but your pussy's no good.'? He'd tried that once years ago and it hadn't worked. 'Your husband's too good a friend of mine.'? How about, 'Your husband and I get drunk together and I'm afraid my tongue might slip.'? But when he picked up the phone, it wasn't Mrs. Klohn's voice.
"Are you asleep yet?" It was Evie.
"I was," Herb lied.
"I wasn't."
Herb could think of no appropriate answer.
"I could if you'd tell me a story."
"Aren't you a little old for that?"
"Please."
Herb sighed. But what the hell? Knowing Mrs. Klohn was in wait for him, and knowing that delectable little twelve-year-old ass was right down the hall within grabbing distance, he knew he wasn't going to sleep, anyway. What the hell time was it? He checked his watch and it was only eleven. The blonde bar maid wouldn't be home for three and a half hours. "All right," he said, and put down the phone.
He opened his door cautiously. With his kind of luck Mrs. Klohn would be prowling the hall and the last thing he needed was for her to catch him sneaking into the swinging blonde's apartment. He wondered if she, or anybody else, knew about the little girl in there.
The hallway was empty. He wished for once that these apartments had spring latches but too many burglars knew how to open them with credit cards. He didn't want to take the time and make the noise it took to key his door shut from the outside. After all, he would only be in there a minute or two. He dashed two doors down and tried Evie's. It was unlocked.
"I'm in here," she called.
Herb went into the bedroom, noting that little Evie was now inhabiting the bed above the mouse droppings without any qualms. He wondered. Children of that age were so delectable. Did she have any idea what she was doing to him? There were times when he suspected that little girls knew far more about such things than little boys. He remembered the little girl next door when he had been twelve. Damn! Could he ever forget her? Could he ever forgive himself for what he had not done?
"Come sit here," Evie said.
Herb sat on the edge of the bed. The luscious little twelve-year-old had a fresh scrubbed look and he realized she too must have just showered. The covers were drawn up to her chin. He wondered if she wore pyjamas. Probably she did. It was weird the way women dressed when you came to think of it. For daytime they would be practically naked, then when they were going to be buried beneath blankets they would usually come up with something all encompassing.
Herb glanced at the crotch of his hastily donned pants. Without underwear his cock was clearly outlined, but thank God it had sulked down to only half an erection.
"What are you looking at?" Evie asked.
For one wild moment Herb wondered what this little girl would say if he were to answer, 'I'm just checking to see if I still have a hard-on.' Would she giggle? Would she scream? Would she pale in silent terror? Probably not. She might do something even worse than any of these. Probably her eyes would widen in innocence and she would ask, 'What's a hard-on? "I'm looking for the mouse," he finally lied.
"Oooohh, can you see it?" She sat up abruptly and in the instant before she remembered to snatch up the covers Herb was treated to a lightning glimpse of her tiny, just-budding breasts.
It was a funny thing about tits, he told himself when he could stop his fluttery heart. When he had been a young man the sight of a milk factory had been a rare treat--something to be remembered and treasured and revived to gloat over in the moments before dropping off to sleep. Nowadays a man couldn't enjoy a quiet glass of beer without having a pair of silicone boobs waved in his face. Was it part of growing old, he wondered, or had it really been more fun in the old days when he had had to work at it to get a glimpse of a female body? Either way it made no difference. He had been looking at female bodies, stuffing his protuberances into their hollows for forty seven years. How many pairs of tits had he caressed, fondled, kissed, sucked, licked? It was hopeless. He couldn't even remember how many times he'd had his cock nestled firmly between a pair of young jugs to afford temporary relief while their owner was afflicted with the lunar humours.
But even in this modern and permissive age there was one thing Herb had to admit he damn seldom saw. Maybe it all stemmed from that twelve-year-old next door and all the marvelous things she had offered, things he understood only in hindsight. No matter. The one piece of femininity Herb seldom saw, the one thing still capable of turning him on at fifty-eleven, the one truly delectable bit of femininity he'd peddle his immortal soul just to get his hands on was what he had just caught one flashing glimpse of.
God, how he'd love just to look at those tiny, twelve-year-old titties, firm little pink nipples surmounting tiny tender mounds on just beginning tits. He wouldn't touch them---wouldn't dare come near. He couldn't even let this innocent creature know he was looking at them. But oh, God, if he could just get one minute's uninterrupted view of that tiny nascent bust Herb knew he would come right in his pants without ever laying a hand on his stubborn stump. Even if it killed him, he could die happy. Oh God, if he could just get one more look!
She was still sitting up in bed, blankets clutched in front of her. He wondered if she was naked. Probably not. If memory was any guide she would be clad in virginal panties, maybe even still wearing socks. But from the waist up... he remembered the thin cotton blouse she had worn, with one button ready to fall off. Beneath it she had not worn that instrument of the devil which some enterprising couturier called a training bra--a. bandeau designed expressly to extract money from the pockets of the parents of girls still too young for the real thing.
Little Evie was a child of nature even as Mrs. Klohn, come to think of it. That robust forty-year-old, forty-inch-busted Juno wore no bra, either. Now why couldn't he be up in her room, letting her blow him while he fondled those firm jugs? In the improbable event that her husband caught him, or even gave a fuck what his wife did while he was gone, the consequences wouldn't be fatal. But just think of what could happen if he hung around in this little girl's bedroom!
The mere thought of the consequences raised the hackles of his neck. Jesus! Get out while you can, he told himself. But he couldn't. As long as he was this close to a barebreasted maiden Herb knew he would sacrifice his ass, his soul, the rest of his life for just one more look at those lovely little tits. What could he do to make her forget for just a moment and let go of those blankets?
"Can you see it?" she repeated.
For an instant he thought she meant her breasts, then he remembered the mouse. Sudden desperate inspiration stung him into action. "Right behind you on the pillow," he said.
"Eeeee!" Evie shrieked. There was an explosion of coverlet and blankets and then he had a little girl sitting on his lap, arms around his neck.
CHAPTER FIVE
Christ! Kill yourself right now. From this moment everything in life will be downhill. Worse than downhill, he realized. Soon he'd be behind bars looking out and not even Mrs. Klohn could do her honest best to reduce the swelling in his crotch. But even as he thought it Herb knew he was lost. Even if he'd known the cops would be beating on the door thirty seconds from now, he couldn't bring himself to push this eighty pounds of panting, throbbing underaged girl-child off his lap.
She had buried her face in his chest. Her arms were around his neck. She had thrown herself artlessly at him and sat astraddle his lap, her long thin, just rounding legs wrapped round his waist in a tight scissors.
One tiny sane corner of his mind told him he had been right. Her legs' length was emphasized by the white bobby socks that came to mid-calf. She wore a pair of rayon panties the same vivid pink as the tiny virginal nipples that pressed against his shirt front.
"Make it go away!" she said in a squeal muffled because her mouth was against his chest.
Herb patted her bare back and made comforting sounds. He wanted to grab her by the waist, raise her body skyward and bury his face in her chest instead of hers in his but even twelve-year-old innocence had to end somewhere. He contented himself with running his hands up and down her back, down past her waist to cop a quick feel of firm little ass. Gradually he began extending his soothing caresses down the smooth firm contours of the thighs that were still wrapped tightly around his waist. Was there a way to get her panties off?
Regretfully, he decided there was not. Not unless he wanted to unwrap those legs from around him, unwrap those arms... and then what excuse could he find to lure her into this lovely position again?
He buried his nose in her hair, reveling in the warm, clean smell of a female still young enough not to have spoiled herself with perfume. God, was there anything on earth one half so nice as the smell of a nice clean girl!
"Is it still there?"
"It never was," he admitted.
"Awww!" Evie pouted. "You spoiled it all!" Her arms came from around his neck and she leaned back to look in his face. For the first time he was afforded with an unobstructed view of those two tiny knockers whose irresistible lure had led him into this impossible situation.
"What'd I spoil?" he asked absently, eyes burning the nipples off her tiny tits as he stored every curve and nuance for the empty years to come.
"You're not supposed to say there isn't any."
"Why?"
"I knew there wasn't any mouse," Evie admitted.
"Then what're you doing here on my lap?"
"I'm hanging onto you until you tell me a bedtime story."
The sudden openness, the total lack of subtlety in this remark was better than ten gallons of ice water on his throbbing crotch. She was too young. She didn't have the slightest idea what she was doing to him. He could still get out, save his soul, save his ass before things got out of hand. He hadn't been caught yet. If he got the hell out of here now, got back to the safety of his apartment this little girl would drop off to sleep and in another three hours or so the blonde bar maid would be home and--and Herb would be home free!
But she would never let him escape without a bedtime story. "Look," he improvised, "There's a lady down the hall needs me to fix something for her. It'll only take a minute or two but if I don't go now she'll be banging on the door in a minute. Why don't you get back in bed and turn out the lights, and when I'm through I'll sneak back in real quiet so we don't wake up the neighbors."
"Yeah!" she enthused. "And then what?"
"And then I'll tell you a bedtime story."
Before she could come up with objections Herb beat a hasty retreat, angling crabwise from the room so she couldn't see the hard-on that was threatening to burst the front of his trousers.
"Jesus, what a narrow escape!" he muttered as he let himself back into his own apartment.
Crazy. God, what a lovely piece of work she was! Yet somehow he had managed to resist the temptation. Strength of character? Shit! It had been fear and nothing else he had to admit to himself. He had foregone the bliss of playing with that lovely little body spread so delectably before him for one reason only--because he was scared shitless of the consequences. He had to admit now that if she had given the faintest hint of knowing what was going on--if he had suspected she even remotely sensed what sitting naked in a man's lap could lead to he would have been lost. The only thing that had stopped him was that look of total ignorance and innocence in her large blue eyes.
That, and the knowledge that once little Evie sensed that his caresses were going too far, that this was not a harmless game any more, she would panic. And Christ only knew what a little girl might do when she panicked. She might do nothing--only tell her lovely blonde auntie all about the next day and then would the shit ever hit the fan!
She might start screaming. And twelve-year-olds could shatter glass when they put their minds to screaming. Herb could just see himself skulking down the hall with every door opening, with all these hotpantsed old bitches... Or Evie might even precede him out the door. Wouldn't that be a sight to remember: Little twelve-year-old Evie in nothing but pink rayon panties scurrying down the hall past opening doors with good, harmless old Herb in hot pursuit trying to shut her up. Prudence, shit! Herb knew damn well why he wasn't still in there figuring out ways to caress her tiny tits and rub a horny hand through her little crotch. It was because he was scared shitless, that was why!
As his mind dwelt on all the possibilities for disaster in this situation the swelling in his crotch began to subside. To his surprise his cock was only half hard as he shot the bolt on his apartment door. He sat in the darkness and kicked off his slippers. He got out of his shirt and pants. One of these days he was going to get caught in a fire but until then he would sleep as he always had--naked and ready for action. He walked carefully in the darkness and sat on the edge of the bed. He was swinging his legs up onto the bed and sliding in when abruptly he realized he was not alone. There was somebody else in his bed. He could smell the perfume.
"Hi," a throaty voice said.
Herb didn't have to turn the light on. He recognized that voice. It was Mrs. Klohn.
"I hope you don't mind," she said.
Herb did but... what the hell could he do without creating the kind of scene that would open the doors in this building just as quickly as little Evie could--and without even that much gratification? All he really wanted to do now was go to sleep. His rebellious cock had finally subsided nearly all the way. He'd had enough excitement for one night. "I'm an old man," he began. "I need my beauty sleep."
"That's all right," Mrs. Klohn said. "You go ahead and sleep. It's just that I get nervous all alone in that apartment with Fred gone and--and if you don't mind awfully... " Herb did. He tried not to sigh too loudly.
"We've had our fun for tonight," Mrs. Klohn said. "And I'll be up and out of here before daylight. I'm a light sleeper."
"Fine," Herb mumbled. He scooted in bed and lay with his back to her.
"Aren't you going to at least give me a good night kiss?"
"If I do, one thing will lead to another and--"
"That's just what I was hoping," she said kittenishly.
"I'm an old man. You need somebody younger. Now good night."
"Good night," she managed in a subdued voice.
To Herb's surprise he actually managed to sleep. Before long he was dreaming.
As a young man Herb's dreams used to be compilations and distillations of each day's events. But with the passing years his dreams became more remote, returning to scenes of his youth instead of reliving and editing the activities of days which, after the first twenty thousand, begin to show a certain tired sameness. Now he remembered and dreamed mostly of the days when he had been Evie's age--when he had been able to fuck his fist six times a day and still be eager for any opportunity. If only one would ever come.
Goldang, at twelve his cock and balls were just starting to hair and his sudden awareness of an organ used only for pissing had of late put unbelievable complications in his life. Why, he'd even been staring at old Katie!
Old Katie was a month and two days older than Herb, which made her twelve and a half. She lived in the frame house next door and had played with Herb since they were infants. She was--to cut needless description short--the same delectable dish of budding femininity that Evie would be a half century later.
Old Katie was blonde, had blue eyes and freckles. She wore black patent leather shoes and white cotton half socks--which would someday, twenty years later, be called bobby socks. She wore a yellow ribbon high on the back of her blond head to contain Mary Pickford-style sausage curls. The more interesting parts of her were usually covered with a pleated skirt well above her knees and a middy blouse which, though cumbersome, fit loosely enough to offer interesting prospects when she stooped a certain way.
It seemed to Herb that of late she was stooping that way all the time. At the moment they sat in her mother's parlor, facing each other with a Parcheesi board balanced on their laps. Kate shook the dice in the leather cup and flung them toward his side of the board with unnecessary violence. As she leaned forward to recover the dice Herb could see down the front of her middy, damn near to her waist.
"What're you looking at?" Kate asked.
"Down your blouse."
"You're not supposed to do that."
"Why not?"
"It isn't nice."
"Oh?" To Herb this seemed a poor reason. "Why ain't it nice?" he asked.
"Because boys aren't supposed to look at girls' fronts."
"Why not?"
"They just aren't!" Kate said exasperatedly. "You can look at mine."
"That's different. You're not a girl."
"I know."
"But I am."
"I know."
There was a lull in the conversation. The house creaked in the summer sun. Kate played idly with the dice. "This is a stupid game," she said.
Herb was inclined to agree but what else was there to do? His folks were off somewhere again and Kate's were gone too and they had the house and the whole afternoon to themselves and it was too hot to play ball and...
"I know another game," Kate said suddenly. "Yeah?"
She looked around cautiously, even though she knew they were all alone in the big empty house. "It isn't nice," she added.
Herb was mildly interested.
"Some of the big girls play it," Kate explained. "But if Momma ever caught us, we'd both catch it."
"Is it fun?"
"The big girls sure think it is."
"I don't want to play any girl games."
"This is a game that only works if boys and girls play it together."
"Yeah?"
"It's called strip poker."
Herb lost interest. His parents were Methodists and so were Kate's. Nothing so immoral as a pack of cards had ever been allowed in either home.
"But we can play it with these Parcheesi dice," Kate explained.
"How?"
"Let's go upstairs."
"Why can't we play it here?"
"You want to get caught?"
Herb was more interested than he cared to admit. Kate had been getting more interesting every day for the last few months. Startling changes had been taking place beneath her middy and elsewhere, he suspected. The only trouble was, a boy wasn't supposed to be interested in these things. To notice them would display a shocking weakness in the world of boyhood. Which only made them all that more interesting.
But nothing that good or that interesting ever really happened. They would go upstairs into Kate's room and would roll dice and she would end up taking off a shoe or a hair ribbon and then before the game could get anywhere near interesting she would change her mind and try once more to get him to play dolls or... suddenly he realized there was an even more mortifying possibility. She might get hot on the dice and he would end up naked before a jeering and fully clothed Kate. How could a feller ever live down a thing like that?
He followed her up the steep stairway and into her attic bedroom. She put the leather dice cup in the middle of the throw rug at the edge of her narrow bed and they sat across from each other on the floor.
"You know the rules?"
Herb thought he did but past experience meant Kate would change them in the middle of the game so he decided it would be safest to let her state them unequivocally right now.
"High throw wins," she clarified.
"Wins what?"
"Whoever wins gets to say what the loser has to take off."
"Take off?"
"Clothes."
Herb knew but he wanted her to say it so there couldn't be any argument later. He tried to think of how many other ways she might decide to weasel out. "What if somebody wants to quit?" he asked.
"Nobody quits," Kate said firmly. "Not until somebody hasn't got anything more to take off."
"When's the game end?" Herb asked. "As soon's somebody's got everything off?"
Kate was about to say yes when she changed her mind. Herb realized that she was thinking the same thing he had been thinking: if the dice were to roll the wrong way it might be old Kate who ended up naked before her enemies. 'The game doesn't end till we're both that way.' She couldn't bring herself to use the operative word. She frowned a moment trying to see how this could work out. "The winner gets to tickle," she finally decided.
Herb was doubtful. If he knew old Kate she was going to find some way to make it impossible for him to win. Still, it was a better way to spend an afternoon than home moving his lips over Tom Swift. "All right," he said. Just to play it safe, he grabbed the leather dice cup and rolled a ten.
Katie rolled a seven but since both children were equally innocent of the nine points of craps ten won. "What do you want me to take off?" she asked.
"Your middy."
"Awww!"
"You said the winner gets to choose."
"Yes but if you do it that way, the game'll be over in no time. Don't you want it to last a while?"
Herb's natural conservatism told him it would be wisest to get to the point before something went wrong. Kate was going to take off a shoe or her yellow ribbon and...
"How about my skirt?" she asked.
Herb was astounded at this offer. Before he could say anything she was standing, unfastening her waistband, letting the pleated skirt slide down past her knees. She caught it with one black patent leather toe and kicked it up onto the bed. She was rattling the leather cup again before he saw how neatly she had conned him. Beneath the middy she wore nothing apart from those interesting little bulges that had been developing of late behind her tiny pink nipples. Removal of her skirt had revealed nothing apart from the gingham panties he saw in their entirety every time she got into a swing or climbed a tree.
He tossed and won again. As he had expected, old Kate ignored the rules she had just promulgated and instead of taking off the middy blouse, slipped off one of her patent leather shoes. Herb knew better than to argue. Besides, if the dice would just continue favoring him it all work out the same way anyhow. Or would it? In his heart of hearts he knew damn well old Kate was never going to let him look at her secret parts. Girls just didn't do things like that--ever!
The dice did favor Herb. Kate had removed both shoes and half socks, had taken the yellow ribbon from her hair, and as near as he could guess, sat cross legged before him clad only in middy blouse and gingham panties before he lost his first throw.
"Your pants," old Kate said.
Herb was aghast at such patent injustice.
"But you're so far ahead of me," Kate explained. "Don't you want it to be fun?"
Not particularly, Herb admitted to himself. What he wanted was for Kate to have to take off everything while he managed to retain his dignity shielded behind all his clothing. But if he knew Kate, any protest at this point would end the game in a pouting match. Sighing, he unbuckled his pants and pulled them off over his shoes. While he was struggling, Kate rolled again.
Finally he got his pants off and sat before her, his essential maleness still concealed in his shorts. He threw and--won!
Suddenly all the immense possibilities of this game opened up to Herb. If Katie would just keep on playing and not welch now he would soon be inspecting one of two things--either those interesting bumps on her chest, or he would find out if it was true like some of the other boys said that girls grew hair down there, too. The thought of imminent revelation brought a strange stirring to his just hairing cock.
He felt it swelling and growing, throbbing just as it throbbed whenever he managed to get alone somewhere long enough to get his hand on it.
Somebody's hand was on it! It felt just like it did when he-- It wasn't a hand. Nobody's hand could be that soft and warm and wet and--oh, wow, did it ever feel good!
Abruptly Herb woke to the realization that Mrs. Klohn was not going to let him sleep. She had insinuated herself down in the bed until she had her head between his legs. She was licking his cock, running her tongue in loving circles around the tip of his foreskin, stopping occasionally to kiss her way up and down the sensitive underside of his growing, throbbing thumper.
Herb wondered if he had given himself away. Did she still think he was asleep? He hoped so. He didn't mind her blowing him; now that she'd gotten this far was no time to stop. But he was still tired, still half asleep, and he didn't want to have to wake up and strain himself with any kind of reciprocal effort. If he could just shrug off all responsibility for coming--or not coming... He gave a sleepy moan and began breathing deeply again. With any kind of luck maybe he could really fall asleep and pick up the dream with old Kate where he had left off. He'd been trying for half a century now to get that middy blouse and gingham panties off Kate.
One thing he had to admit, Kate had never put her twelve-and-a-half-year-old mouth on his twelve-year-old cock like Mrs. Klohn was doing. Herb relaxed and tried to evaluate his alternatives. It would be fun to bury his nose in cunt country and give this willing Junoesque woman a turn-on, too, but... But one thing would lead to another and he was going to have problems enough getting rid of her without leading her on. He decided it would be best to remain 'asleep' and let her take full responsibility. After all, hadn't he warned her that he wanted to sleep?
Mrs. Klohn seemed bound by no such inhibitions. She pushed and pulled, maneuvering him into position, apparently not caring whether he woke or not. He relaxed, breathing steadily, emitting an occasional sleepy protest as he allowed her to drag and shove him into missionary position, flat on his back, knees flexed, thighs wide apart to make room for the firm female body whose head bobbed slowly up, down, round and around his rising rod.
She was, he realized, a consummate artist of the blow job, knowledgeable of all the little tricks that, twenty years ago, would have sent him yodeling with delight down the corridors of power. And even now at fifty-eleven Herb had to admit that there were worse ways of waking up than with a woman's mouth on his tired old cock.
She was moving him again. Herb realized with a start that she was moving him into the same position he had favored once years ago with a long-stemmed blossom out of Earl Carrol's chorus line: knees hooked over shoulders to bend her into a ball while he drove his dong deep into cunt country. But what the hell was Mrs. Klohn up to?
She was rooting deep in his crotch. She drew his widespread knees together and hooked them over the smooth firmness of her shoulders--shoulders which he suddenly remembered bore no crease of bra strap. She was pushing, bending him double as he had once bent a leggy chorine. And finally he from the couple of inches of perineum.
She was licking his asshole, running a loving tongue up and down that tender strip of skin that runs from asshole to the back of his balls. Herb thought the top of his head was going to blow off any minute. His cock was throbbing, straining, thumping and growing in her caressing hand. Every hair on his balls seemed alive, sensitized to the erotic atmosphere this skilled practitioner with the bra-less, forty inch jugs was creating. Goddamn--if she kept it up for another uninterrupted minute Herb knew he was going to come!
Oh wow, oh Jesus! If he could just get his hands on little Evie's tits now! If he could just somehow manage to have that unsuspecting eighty pounds of twelve-year-old flesh sitting on his lap while Mrs. Klohn did her experienced best--damn!
Wow, wahoo, did it ever feel good! She was licking, kissing, licking, her hand caressing and squeezing his cock while her loving tongue went up and down, round and round the twittering rosette of his palpitating asshole. Beneath that strip of sensitive skin he felt his aged prostate straining, gathering forces for one more foray onto the dark fields of venus.
If she would just keep it up for another minute Herb knew he was going to make it--going to come, even without his hands on little Evie's little tits. If only she'd just keep it up for another thirty seconds. He could feel that old model airplane winding up inside him, rubber bands twisting, propeller getting all set to let go with one magnificent rushing gushing whirrrrrl understood what she was up to. WOW! Suddenly his belly was twisting, tightening, cock fluttering with the first tiny tremor that presaged full spurting orgasm. Was she actually going to make him come? One tiny sane comer of his mind told him he'd be so grateful he'd actually fuck her. Then he wondered. She had been so eager to suck his cock, not once asking that he return the favor. Even now she was lined up in a way that precluded any... Most women would have angled around and thrust a brush in his face, opened a crotch and dragged him into the warm soft confines of pussy park.
Mrs. Klohn was apparently happy just to blow him. She hadn't once asked him to lick her, kiss her, fuck her... maybe her husband took care of all these other functions. But what sort of a husband would handle all that and then refuse a blow job?
At the moment Mrs. Klohn wasn't even blowing Herb--which made it all the more interesting. He wondered where she had learned this particular trick, then realized that nowadays women could learn practically anything in the books which postmen delivered in plain brown wrapper.
She had his knees hooked over her shoulders. She had reared forward until he was rolled into a half ball, ass well off the mattress as he rested his weight on shoulder blades and the back of his neck. Her busy head was deep in his crotch but she had nosed and rooted cock and balls up out of the way. One hand reached around into his crotch from the front to caress his cock and hold his squirming scrotum up away from his body.
Jesus, would it ever be nice to come once again--to really come hot, hard and fast, shooting gallons of goo as he emptied out the soreness, the tiredness, the frustrations of years. It would be so nice really to empty, fire a full load instead of these piddling little flurries that passed for orgasm at his age--little tremors of remembered joy that left him only half satisfied, his cock still half hard and unable to go either all the way up or all the way down. God, what wouldn't he give for one good old-fashioned orgasm?
If Mrs. Klohn could just coax it all the way out of him Herb resolved he'd do anything she asked for. If she'd just keep up this wonderful licking and kissing, keep on squeezing and caressing his cock, keep his flexed knees hooked over her unblemished shoulders until that hangfire charge had gone off and relieved him--if she would do that for him, once he had slept he would do anything for her. ANYTHING!
Her tongue darted tirelessly up and down his crotch, touching the back of his scrotum, stirring each hair into electric awareness, darting up and down his perineum, tickling the seam that holds two halves of a body together at that point: Her tongue tickled his twittering touchhole, driving him to the delirious edge of ecstasy. God, just one more little touch, one tickle and...
Suddenly she stopped.
God damn and blast this bitch! Of all the goddamn times to quit, just when she'd almost made it! Herb was so disappointed he almost swore and gave away his elegant pretense of being asleep.
What the hell was she up to? Was she trying to blackmail him into blowing her for a while? Or did she want him to stick it into her? Surely a woman as skilled as this must have sensed how near he was to coming. Was she too stupid to realize that if he lost step now he could never get back with it at his age? Shit! He might as well kick her out and go take another cold shower, run gallons of ice water over his throbbing cock and try to get to sleep. God damn her!
Then abruptly Mrs. Klohn opened her mouth wide. Suddenly he realized she didn't want him to blow her, didn't expect him to fuck her. She stretched her mouth wide, engulfed his hairy scrotum, balls and all, closed her lips loosely around his maleness and began to hummmmmmmmm!
CHAPTER SIX
Herb's cock gave a wild surging leap in her soft hand. She squeezed it gently, ran a loving finger around the tight stretched tip of his foreskin. He felt a minuscule spurt and then her fingertip was moistened, lubricated in the tiny drop of clear fluid that emerged from his jubilant joint.
Still humming, she began running a slick fingertip around the tip of his tool, gradually encouraging his tight stretched foreskin back down over the magnificent throbbing bulge of his maleness. Thus encouraged, his cock secreted another drop of crystalline clarity. As the lubricant flowed down around the path of her circling finger his foreskin folded imperceptibly back, leaving his cockhead stripped for action.
Her finger traced loving circles, lingering on the tender, sensitive underside of his glans penis, touching every erotic trigger in his machinery.
Herb struggled to remain 'asleep', trying not to strain and push against Mrs. Klohn's lush full body. He caught himself wishing she would turn around the other way, let him bury his face in the warm softness of her crotch and return favor for favor. But prudence prevailed. He was going to have enough hell getting rid of this woman once...
Suddenly Herb realized what he was thinking. Once he had come! If she kept on with this rubbing, this tickling and humming he knew he was going to make it. And once he made it...
Eleven years past his fiftieth birthday a man's body was a funny thing. It had been laziness more than anything that had let him turn into a recluse-- the reluctance to become involved with any of the women in this building. And the longer he did without, the easier it became.
Herb had gone into long spells of abstinence before. The funny part was it was just the opposite from when he had been young, when a month without fucking would be enough to send him up the walls. Nowadays his body could forget how. He knew that if he could just get past this first hump--if he could just come once, a few hours sleep and he would be ready to come again, and again and again. Old and tired as he was, if he could just break the dam and get that first shot off Herb could get in a solid week of steady fucking before his satiated body was ready to settle down for another six months or year--or possibly forever of abstinence.
How long was little Evie going to be here? The luscious blonde barmaid had said one thing. Evie had said another. Would he ever see her again? Of course he would. The aunt or mother wouldn't sneak the child out like a thief in the night. But would he ever have a chance to really see her, once more to admire that undraped little body. Damn! If he'd been a little bolder, a trifle less careful of his dwindling future he could have gotten her little panties off. Even now he could probably use his pass key to get back in there and tell her another bedtime story.
Mrs. Klohn was slaving valiantly away at his cock, tickling, licking, kissing, rubbing, and--goddamn it! He'd let his mind wander for a minute and the fine edge was gone from his hard-on. Oh, it was still up there thumping away but Herb knew he had lost the fine firm frenzy that had been building toward explosion. He wondered what he could do to revive it. Damn it, why couldn't he have kept his mind on what he was doing?
Or rather, what Mrs. Klohn was doing to him. Would it be better if he dropped this pretense of being asleep? Maybe if he flicked on a night light so he could admire the full firm contours of her lush body... Maybe he ought to grab her ass and drag her around until he could root around in cunt country. How long had it been since he had licked a cunt?
It had been awhile, Herb had to admit. His hand was curving out in the darkness to capture her and drag her around his way when suddenly he realized one possible explanation for Mrs. Klohn's willingness to give without receiving. If she was as hard up as she had to be to chase him like this, she must have a hair trigger cunt, too. One touch of his hand and she would be wallowing and flopping like a freshly gaffed salmon, her evening's fun finished along with all hopes of orgasm for Herb. He remembered the way she had managed to come on her knees in the tiled bathroom while she was blowing him. And that had just been from his hands on her tits, fingers twiddling her firm nipples until she gasped and moaned and her insides melted down into a puddle of passion.
It would be best, he decided, smartest to remain 'asleep'. There had been a time in Herb's life when two uninterrupted seconds of a 'hum job' on his balls would have sent him into uncontrolled ejaculation. Now... it just felt good. It felt nice to relax and play asleep and let her do all the work. Her mouth still engulfed his balls. Her slick wet finger ran gently round and round the smooth bald head of his cock, unerringly seeking out the most sensitive spots. He had given up all hopes of coming now. But he might as well accept what he could get. He had to admit that a woman's head between his legs was better than no head at all. Even if it wasn't little Evie's.
The thought of that lovely twelve-year-old gave his cock a reviving shot of life. Mrs. Klohn sensed it and suddenly -she wasn't humming any more. She slid back down toward the foot of the bed and once more Herb's ass was on the mattress as he relaxed in missionary position. Her splendid, unmarked shoulders slid from beneath his knees and her hand came away from his cock as she began to support her weight on her elbows.
He felt the warm wetness of her breath blowing the bare head of his hammer, then a moment later he felt soft warm lips kissing it, opening, sliding slowly down over the head of his cock, sealing him away from the cold and hardness of a cruel world. She began gently sucking.
Wow! But after the first fine thrill of a warm mouth around his cock Herb knew there was no future in it. Not with Mrs. Klohn anyway. She was twenty years younger than he. She was built like a brick pagoda. She was skillful and she was willing. But Herb knew that it was just no use. This woman was never going to make him come and if he didn't get rid of her soon he was going to lose a whole night's sleep and end up with a sore cock and nothing to show for it. How was he ever going to get rid of her?
The phone rang.
Jesus H. Christ! he thought. Won't they ever stop? He reached for it, knowing it was pointless to pretend any longer that he was sleeping. Besides, this silly bitch might pick it up herself if he didn't grab it soon. Instead, after the barest instant of hesitation she was back to blowing him with lusty abandon. Herb put the thing to his ear. "Uh?" he said sleepily.
"Please."
"Huh?"
"Please come quick." It was little Evie's voice. She was whispering. A sudden chill shot through him. The little girl was all alone. Had he locked the door properly when he left? This wasn't the safest of neighborhoods. He held the receiver tight to his ear so Mrs. Klohn would not overhear. "Please hurry!" Evie breathed.
"All right," Herb said and hung up.
"Who was it?"
Herb was smitten with a sudden happy solution to his problems. "Your husband," he said. "He's been ringing your number and nobody answers and he wants me to go see if you're all right."
"Oh, dear!" Mrs. Klohn said. Hurriedly she gathered up her robe and slipped into it. "You'll come with?" she insisted.
"Do you think that's wise?" Herb asked. "He might call here again."
Herb was already struggling into his shirt and pants. He let Mrs. Klohn out and watched until her door closed. Then he got his pistol from the night stand and padded barefoot two doors down the hall to Evie's apartment. He guessed he must have locked the door properly. He had to use his passkey to get in.
The apartment was dark. He closed the door behind him and locked it. Pistol at the ready, he began padding barefoot through the darkness. "Is that you?" Evie called.
"Yeah. What's wrong?"
"I heard a mouse."
The lights went on and Herb stood there feeling foolish with a pistol in his hand. Tousle-haired Evie was in bed just as he had left her, blankets up to her chin. He supposed she would still be clad only in pink rayon panties. The surprise and excitement had gotten his hard-on down to manageable proportions, thank God. If he didn't fire his load soon he was going to have to start wearing a steel-belted radial jock strap.
"Oooohh!" Evie said, "Is that a real gun?"
"Yes," he sighed. "Now don't tell me a big girl like you is actually afraid of a mouse."
"It ran across my face," she explained. "Golly, that's the biggest gun I've ever seen."
"I could have shown you a bigger one a few minutes ago," Herb said. Saying it, he could have bit his tongue off but Evie didn't pursue the matter. What $he hell time was it? That bar maid aunt ought to be home by now. He looked around the bedroom.
"Whatcha lookin' for?" Evie asked.
"A clock. I was wondering when your aunt would be home."
Evie pointed across the room where a digital clock would be visible to a sleeper. To Herb's surprise it was only one. The blonde would not be home for another two and a half hours yet. He sighed. "Are you all right now?"
"You didn't tell me the bedtime story," she said accusingly.
"I'm sorry," Herb lied. "The next time I looked in you were asleep and--"
"And what?"
"Well," he sighed, "Old men get sleepy, too."
"You want to sleep here with me?"
She doesn't know what she's saying, Herb reminded himself. She's only twelve and she must've led a pretty sheltered life even for a twelve-year-old. But goddamn! If little girls could just realize the terrible temptations they placed before old men! Herb managed to control his choked gasp. When he could breathe normally again he said--dryly, he hoped--"I'm afraid we wouldn't get much sleeping done."
Evie giggled. "You're ticklish!" she exulted.
"I sure am," Herb admitted. "Especially in some places."
The phone rang.
Oh, Jesus! Herb thought. Mrs. Klohn's traced me here! Goddamn that woman. Now that he'd let her break the ice he knew there would never be a moment's rest. And any woman as hot-to-trot as that would always be ready to believe the worst. He had to get out of here. Get out quick before everything from the juvenile court to the national guard came busting through that door.
Evie picked up the phone. She said hello, listened a moment, then said, "Yes, he just got here a minute ago." She handed the phone to Herb.
Herb took the ivory-colored instrument gingerly as if it were a live grenade. "Hello," he said.
"I'm sorry. Something came up and I'll have to work a couple of hours late. Is everything all right?" It was the blonde bar maid.
"Yes," Herb lied. "Everything's fine."
There was a faint note of puzzled suspicion in the blonde's voice. "What're you doing there this time of night?"
"She called me up about a mouse."
"Oh!" the blonde laughed. "It isn't a mouse. Last week a friend of mine lost a hamster. I'm sorry. I'll get it out of there as soon as I can catch it." There was a moment's silence. "She's been giving you all kinds of trouble, hasn't she?" the blonde asked.
"Well-"
"I'm sorry," the blonde said. "Maybe I can make it up to you somehow. For the moment all I can say is 'thanks'."
Remembering the trim body, the long straight legs, the long blonde hair, Herb realized the barmaid aunt must be a grown-up version of what Evie would be ten years from now, what old Kate had turned into. There certainly was a way she could make it up to him but Herb knew he could never bring himself to tell her what it was. He didn't mind being old but he hated to be an old fool. He mumbled something conciliatory about little Evie not being any bother and a moment later the line went dead.
He was putting the phone back when he realized this was only a reprieve. Mrs. Klohn would be on the prowl again within minutes. He dialed her number.
"Fred?" she asked.
"No, this is Herb. Has he called yet?"
"No, not yet."
"Well, you'd better sit tight. He sounded pretty worried."
"Where are you?"
"Well, where would I be at this hour?" Herb demanded.
"I rang your apartment a minute ago and nobody answered."
"You must've dialed the wrong number," Herb said. "Anyhow, you'd better not call me again. Keep both our lines open in case your husband calls."
"What was that all about?" Evie asked when he had hung up.
"Just a nervous lady who lives down the hall."
"Why did you tell her you were in your apartment?"
Herb sighed and shrugged. How could he explain to this child that it was not healthy for an old man to be in a little twelve-year-old's bedroom? And damn! Little Evie's aunt wouldn't be home till daylight. Was he ever going to get any sleep?
In her interest in the phone conversation Evie had let the covers slip lower and lower until he could barely see the tip of one tiny pink nipple. Herb tried not to stare. He wished she would cover up and he down and leave him in peace. Like hell he did. What he really wanted was for her to come flying out of bed again, sit astraddle his lap and beg for a bedtime story.
"Nobody knows you're here," Evie said conspiratorially. "Come into bed with me and tell me a story."
CHAPTER SEVEN
How many times had he retreated from disaster? Herb stared at the little girl, stared aghast. "Do you realize what you're asking?" he demanded.
"Sure. It's cold and you're tired and I don't want to put all my clothes on again so you can just slip in bed beside me and we can talk and that way I won't think about the mouse and--" Herb sighed. "Didn't your mother ever tell you not to go to bed with strange men?" he asked.
"Well, yeah, but she didn't mean nice old men like you or grandpa."
"I'm afraid you've got something more to learn about men," Herb said mournfully.
Evie's blue eyes widened in growing comprehension. She stared at him with a suddenly heightened interest. "Gol-lee!" she enthused. "Do you screw?"
Herb struggled to control himself. This girl was beyond subtlety. The only way to deal with children, he guessed, was to be totally honest. "Most men do," he said.
"But do you?" she demanded.
"Once in a while."
"You want to do it with me?"
Jesus Christ, did he ever! Herb struggled to control himself. How had he ever gotten into this kind of discussion? Finally he decided the only way to end it was to be as uncompromisingly honest as Evie. "Yes, I'd like to," he admitted. "But I don't think I ought to."
"Why not?"
"I'm too old. You're too young."
"Well, golly, I've got to learn sometime."
"Haven't you ever?"
"I'm goin' on thirteen."
"Which means you're twelve and you've never done it," Herb deduced. This was unreal. What was he doing in a strange bedroom discussing fucking with a nubile twelve-year-old virgin? He got to his feet. The pistol made an awkward bulge. He half turned so Evie wouldn't see it. "It's time you were asleep," he said.
She gave a strangled sob.
"Now what's wrong?" he asked. "Are you still worried about that mouse? It's not a mouse; it's a hamster."
"Nobody ever tells me anything," Evie wailed. "I ask Momma and I ask Aunt Charlie and nobody ever tells a girl anything. How'm I ever going to learn?" she wailed.
Herb hesitated, then sat on the edge of the bed again. She leaned toward him to pillow her tearstained face against his shirt front. The covers fell away and once more he was treated to a quick glimpse of those lovely little breast buds just starting to grow into their lovely promise. Jesus, how he wished he dared touch them! He could, too, he knew. But this little girl was too open, too honest for subterfuge. If he touched her, aunt--what had the girl called the barmaid? Charlene or Charlotte or something. Anyhow, whatever he did to this child would sooner or later get back to her aunt who was surely old and experienced enough to know a dirty old man when she heard about him. Herb made a Herculean effort and managed to limit his patting and caressing to the nape of her neck and down her bare back "Tell you what," he promised. Promise her anything if it'll let you get out of here. "If you still want to know how to do it, if you'll be a good little girl and go to sleep right now, I'll tell you all about it tomorrow." Like hell he would. Tomorrow he'd hop into his camper and disappear for a couple of days. If Charlene or Charlotte or whatever the barmaid aunt was called had a brain in her head she'd make other arrangements and Herb would make goddamn sure he never got caught alone for an instant again with this lovely, luscious, deliciously edible little blonde piece of eighty pound jail bait!
"Good night," he said.
"Promise?"
"Sure," he lied, "I promise."
He reconnoitered the hall carefully. Thank God Mrs. Klohn wasn't on the prowl. He made it. back to his room without incident, thankful that this time there would be no surprises since he had locked the door after himself. He slid out of his shirt and pants, then remembered to put the pistol away. He was just getting into bed when the phone rang. It was Mrs. Klohn.
"You've got the wrong number," he said and hung up. Before she could ring again he took the phone off the hook.
Christ, how his cock was starting to ache! He lay a few minutes, knew he would never get to sleep, and finally got up to take another cold shower. Finally he was back in bed again. The bed still smelled faintly of Mrs. Klohn's perfume. Damn all women! Finally he managed to drowse.
It must have been more than drowsing, he realized, for when he was finally fully awake he realized that somebody had been tapping on the door for quite a while. If that's Mrs. Klohn I'll shoot her and say I thought it was a burglar. He wanted to ignore the tapping but if he didn't do something soon every door in the building would be opening. He sighed and got out of bed. Where the hell was his robe? He couldn't find it. Finally he got into his pants again.
He was trying to think up some kind of a crusher for Mrs. Klohn when he finally fumbled the latch open and it wasn't the Junoesque woman at all. The woman at his doorway had never sucked Herb's cock. It was the blonde barmaid--Evie's aunt. What the hell was her name? Charlie? "Hi," she whispered. "Can I come in for a minute?"
Already? Herb wondered. He had hoped little Evie would have been asleep, that she would have at least waited till tomorrow to relay all the juicy details of their conversation about fucking. How was he ever going to make this twenty-two-year-old miniskirted barmaid, wise in the ways of the world's studs--how could he ever convince her that he had managed to resist temptation? Now there was going to be a big noisy scene and doors would open and the police... shit! Wordlessly, Herb stood aside and let her in.
"I didn't realize it would be like that at all," the blonde in the miniskirt said.
Herb didn't know what to say.
"I'm really grateful," the blonde continued. "If I'd had any idea she was going to cause that much trouble, I'd've stayed home until I could make other arrangements. You really are a darling."
"A what?" Herb was nonplussed.
"I can just imagine how it must have been for you," Charlie continued. She sighed and moved farther into the room. "I'm afraid we've both had a long hard night but--" She hesitated.
"What's wrong?" Herb asked. Slowly it was dawning on him that the blonde in the miniskirt had not come here to scream and scold and accuse.
Charlie gave him a rueful smile. "I promised I'd make it up to you," she said. "Of course, I didn't know how much I'd have to make up."
"I'm sorry," Herb said. "A man gets old. Sometimes he's not too hip to modern dialect."
"You understand me perfectly," she said with a wicked grin. "Evie may be too young, but I'm not."
"Oh!" Herb said in sudden comprehension. So the little girl had blabbed after all.
"And you, you dirty old man," Charlie said with that same wicked grin. "You're not old at all," She was already working at the zipper of her miniskirt.
Herb stared with sudden amazement and delight. God damn! All the months Mrs. Klohn and the other women in this building had had their eyes on him, he'd had his eyes on this lovely rangy blonde, grown up and old enough for no legal complications, but so hopelessly young as to be out of his league. He'd never even hoped. How old was she? Twenty-two? Jesus, when she was born he'd already been-- Come to think of it, he'd only been thirty-nine when she was born. That wasn't so old.
Little Evie's eighty pounds of jail bait retreated into the mists of memory as Charlie posed in front of him with her hand on the zipper of her mini. She studied his face and knew she was reading him right. "You've done it in your mind every time I went down the hall," she murmured. "Now's your chance."
This isn't really happening, Herb told himself. I'm gone hopelessly senile and this is just another daydream. Any minute now I'll come to and... But in the back of his mind was the realization that even if it was a dream it was nice to dream. The sudden surge of rut as his cock began rising told him that this time, even if it was only a dream--if he could just hang onto that dream long enough he was going to make it. He was going to fire his load.
He moved forward to meet Charlie and as his hands began fumbling at her zipper she was a warm and clean-smelling woman and surprisingly solid for a dream. His hands were both busy with the zipper. Somehow he couldn't get the hang of the goddamn thing. Charlie captured his face with her two hands and kissed him. "Relax," she murmured. "I've got a thing for mature men, and I hope this mature man has a mature thing for me." She kissed him again, lips parting this time and a tongue went deep into him. Suddenly Herb was kissing back, finally convinced that this was real flesh, real blood, a real live girl with a real live cunt and she was younger and slim and slight little body was not much bigger than little Evie's and the only difference was that this girl knew how and was willing and if Mrs. Klohn didn't like it she could go complain to her husband.
"Take it easy," Charlie murmured. "You've handled zippers before. I won't go away."
Finally it came free and the mini descended like a collapsing parachute around her ankles. Eyes gleaming, Herb stepped back to admire the work he had unveiled. Clad in a low-cut barmaid's blouse engineered to give each customer an eyeful when she bent over a table, the slim blonde still wore spike heels and pantyhose with lacy tops. Her shoulder-length straight blonde hair was bound loosely in a ribbon which he abruptly realized was twin to that in little Evie's hair.
Somewhere in the back of his mind Herb saw the implications in this deal. He was getting to fuck Charlie. In return, he knew he was going to have to ride herd on Evie some more. What the hell? Evie was a lovely little piece, but as long as he could get his hands on Charlie he guessed he'd be able to keep them off the little girl. He put his hands out and began raising the blouse.
Son of a bitch! Either this was women's lib night or bras were going out of style. This was the third pair of emancipated tits he's seen tonight. First there had been Mrs. Klohn's firm forties, her magnificent shoulders never sullied by the mark of a bra strap. Then there had been little Evie, still unruined by a training bra. And now he was lifting a blouse over Charlie's head while she raised her arms.
Raising her arms raised the tips of two perky little tits with tiny pink nipples already rock hard with anticipation. Herb stopped fiddling with the blouse long enough to kiss first one nipple, then the other.
Charlie's arms, still entangled in the blouse, came down around his neck and drew him in closer, tighter, harder. God, was he ever hard! Herb's cock had swollen to a rock hardness he remembered from the good old days. There were no two ways about it. If he could just get in an uninterrupted half hour with this lovely piece of young pussy Herb knew his troubles would be over. He could manage that first orgasm. Once he had fired the first burst to clear his tubes, there would be no problem. He'd been saving it up long enough. There would be plenty for everybody--but especially there would be plenty for this lovely slim body with the tiny pink-nippled tits he was kissing.
She got her arms free from the blouse and was cuddling the nape of his neck, playing with the short hairs. Herb came up for air. He stepped back again once more to admire this unexpected gift. She must be about five feet one, not an ounce over ninety pounds. But she wasn't skinny. Long, smooth-tapering legs filled her pantyhose delectably.
The gentle promise of her thighs was fulfilled in the full firm curve of her trim little ass. Peeping at him from the top of her pantyhose was a deep, perfect navel. Herb moved in again, this time on his knees before this fleshy perfection. He buried his face in the soft roundness of her belly, augered his tongue into the depths of her navel, and began gently working at the lacy top of her pantyhose.
It took a minute, but finally they were sliding down smoothly, revealing ever greater expanses of the smooth milky skin of her belly. She was perfection--not a blemish, not a superfluous hair, not a stretch mark. "What's a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?" he murmured.
She chuckled and pulled his face deeper into her belly. He unveiled the top of her strawberry blond pubic patch and nuzzled it, meanwhile gently sliding pantyhose past the gentle bulge of her long, tapered thighs. Finally she was lifting one foot, then the other and he was tossing the pantyhose atop blouse and miniskirt in the corner.
Herb stepped back. Charlie posed before him, wearing colorless lipstick, pearl nail polish, and a yellow ribbon. He stepped close, crushed her to him and realized he was still wearing pants. Hastily he stepped back and kicked them off. They flowed together again and he could feel the warmth of her slim elegant body burning its imprint into him. "Oooohhh, wow!" she murmured as she felt the hardness of his cock press against her belly.
Herb concentrated on the yellow ribbon. As his arms went around her, hers did likewise, and they stood pressed snugly together, rocking back and forth while he fumbled with the ribbon. Jesus, did she ever smell good! Finally it was loose. He had undressed her! They stood facing one another, feasting eyes on each other's bodies, so overcome by the knowledge of the wonderful thing that was going to happen that neither could speak.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Slowly they drifted together again, pressing their bodies together, rocking gently back and forth to extract the maximum sensation from this contact of bare skin with bare skin. Frozen in an erotic aspic, they moved slow as an hour hand toward the bed. Herb felt the backs of his legs touch the edge of the bed. He began bending slowly backward, pulling her with him. With a gentle ballet like movement they slowly descended from vertical to horizontal as he lay down on the bed, pulling Charlie's slight body down atop him like some fleshly erotic blanket. "Ooooohhh!" she murmured.
He lay still for a moment, savoring his good fortune, then began rolling to one side. Finally they lay side by side facing one another. She kissed him again, driving her tongue deep to touch his. Christ, if he didn't watch it Herb knew he was going to go off before he could even get it in.
Get it in. To hell with all the fancy footwork. Mrs. Klohn of the forty-inch tits and forty years was for blow jobs. But this lovely slip of a girl was made only to slip it into her. He was going to fuck her. Simply, straightforwardly, without kinks or kooky frills. Two or three hours from now, if he hadn't come yet, there would be time enough to work out refinements.
Gently and imperceptibly he continued the slow roll until she was half underneath him. As he angled about to straddle her with his elbows, he bent down once more to kiss those tiny tits.
She finished turning over and lay face up. Slowly, she spread her legs and he got in between, in classic missionary position. His cock was rock hard, throbbing and thumping like it hadn't for at least twenty years. Slowly, she began flexing her knees. He kissed his way around her firm little tits, licked each nipple into hot, throbbing erection. She moaned.
He tried to remember his resolve. Get it into her, pour it to her. But goddamn! This was the tiniest, loveliest, firmest little body he had handled since--since Kate all those years ago. Goddamn, just to think of how smooth and firm and ready she was! He remembered the surprising depth of her navel and knew he could not bother sticking his stabber into her until he had kissed and licked that dainty dimple again. Slowly, he oozed down her body, his knees sliding off the foot of the bed as he rested his face on her belly. He drove his tongue into her navel, augered it round and around until she squirmed and giggled. He kissed his way down the gentle bulge of belly to the top of her pubic brush.
Strawberry blonde hair in crisp curls covered her mons. He rooted in her pussy hair, savoring the sweet smell of woman-cunt and her ass began rising to greet him. Legs wide apart she welcomed his exploring tongue. He pressed on and discovered her pussylips flushed and eager. He parted her labia, kissed and licked their smooth hairless inner surface. He gave her throbbing, hard, swollen clit a single loving flick with his tongue, then before he could succumb to the desire to lose himself in this well of togetherness he was oozing back up, kissing his way past navel and nipple. "Time enough for that later," he murmured, "when an old man gets too tired for anything else."
"Mmmmmmmm!" she agreed.
He could feel the hot raging warmth of her open cunt waiting to welcome the tip of his palpitating tool. Slowly and carefully, he probed until the head of his cock, foreskin still in place, was dancing daintily in the seething gap of her cunt opened wide by her flexed thighs. He pushed a tiny millimeter closer and the warm, passion-swollen lips of her cunt began to enclose his cockhead. He pushed another millimeter and felt his cockhead start to drive out of its foreskin, the tender sensitive skin in intimate contact with her throbbing labia.
He pushed another millimeter and his cock was baldheaded, foreskin folded back as he drove past labia, starting the long happy journey past the vestibule of her labia into the depths of cunt country. "Aaaaaahhhh!" Charlie sighed, her slight body quivering with delight as his dong began to drive deep into her with his first stroke.
God, did it ever feel good! He pushed, driving it deep, deeper into her. She was small, she was trim and firmly muscled. Her tiny cunt was tight but deep as Mrs. Klohn's throat. He drove his pile driver gently. She was such a small girl he was afraid he'd longcock her. Tenderly, a millimeter at a time he poked his prod deep into that trim little hole, waiting for the gasp, the telltale wince that would mean he had bottomed out. It didn't come.
But oh, man, was she ever tight!
He remembered the problems he'd had with certain virgins--how a man could struggle half the night to break a tough maidenhead and then--and then what a disappointment it was to break through that leathery hymen and drive a hot throbbing cock deep into six slimy inches of loose nothing!
Charlie didn't have a maidenhead. She had something a thousand times better. She had a deep, tight little pussy that was good to the last drop, good to the last, hard millimeter of thrust. It reminded him of a fleshy funnel, firm and smooth, hard-muscled, deliciously tiny to enter. And the deeper he drove the smoother, tighter, firmer it became. He pushed, still afraid that he would bottom out and hurt her. He had it over halfway in now and still this marvelous little blonde wasn't complaining.
He rested a moment, kissed her. She responded with a tongue deep down his throat. It felt so good that for an instant his whole body dissolved, turned to a passionate soup and he thought he was coming--coming disastrously before he could even achieve his first full stroke. They kissed and swapped tongues until he had to come up for air. "Am I hurting you?" he asked.
"Hurt me some more."
He lunged, driving his cock into her a full inch deeper.
"Aaaaaahhhh!" she sighed in deep appreciation.
Herb hesitated a moment to digest the sheer joy of feeling his cock drive deep into firm female flesh. Charlie did something with the muscles in her belly and her whole cunt tightened to give his cock a friendly squeeze. Jesus! He caught himself wondering how Charlie's throat would compare with Mrs. Klohn's.
Just thinking about it nearly made him come. He felt his crotch quiver, gather forces, relax, tighten again as a tiny preliminary spurt came. He froze, gritting his teeth with the effort not to come, reminding himself that only moments ago he had been praying to be able to fire his load. But he didn't even have it all the way in, yet!
Quietly, she waited for his spasm to pass. Finally he stopped gritting his teeth. As he slowly relaxed and breathed, she sighed and smiled up at him. "You're wonderful," she said. "After all those so-called he men who can't even undress me before they have to run to the bathroom."
Herb prayed that he could live up to her expectations. A half minute passed and he dared try to thrust again. He was, he guessed, within an inch or so of bottoming out. But she was so firm, so tight so good that even now when he should have been relaxing and settling down for a bout of down-to-earth fucking each slightest movement into her fleshy funnel seemed to intensify the sensation of pure unbearable pleasure that was suffusing him, infusing youth into his tired old bones.
His whole body seemed electrified by the touch of hers, his ,skin actually tingling wherever they were in contact. He felt the crisp, just graying hair of his pubis begin to mingle with the strawberry blonde curls of her mons veneris. He pushed slowly, steadily, striving for every millimeter of penetration that he could achieve, waiting always for her gasp and cry. Still it didn't come. How could such a tiny girl with such a tiny tight cunt take it all without complaint? Don't ask, he told himself. Thank God for favors received and drive it in deeper, go for broke!
Damn, was she ever tight! She did that muscle bit again and her cunt contracted to give his cock a friendly squeeze. He stiffened with the effort to keep himself from exploding. She grinned and raised her face to be kissed. They swapped tongues for a long moment while slowly the spasm passed and he dared to drive deeper again.
Finally he bottomed out. Grinding his pelvis against the bony prominence beneath her crisp strawberry blonde curls, he pushed and panted, straining for the last full measure of devotion. She raised her ass to meet him and they pressed against one another, grinding and twisting with happy abandon, twisting his tool deep in her socket, savoring the tightness which gripped its full length, squeezed snugly around his cockhead, driving him into a fine frenzy of lust far beyond poor Mrs. Klohn's willing throat. Wow!
They rested a moment and slowly her ass subsided once more to the bed and his cock pulled out a fraction of an inch. And, Jesus, oh, son of a bitch! It was just as tight; felt just as good pulling out as it did going in!
"I don't think I can stand this," he murmured. "I think I'd like to die right now."
"Why?" she murmured.
"Because nothing can ever be this good again."
"You want to bet?" she asked and contracted her cunt muscles to give his cockhead that friendly squeeze again.
"Ooooohhh ow, WOW!" Herb exploded. He drove deep into her, grabbed her ass with both hands and hung on frantically, gritting his teeth and gasping with the effort not to come.
They clung together for an instant, for an eternity of frozen ecstasy as he struggled not to come. Finally the pink wave of passion subsided, leaving him trembling and shaken. As sanity returned he realized his lovely blonde had been as close to disaster as he. For a moment he wondered if it might not be better if she had come--anything to loosen and relax the stranglehold that her tight little pussy had around his throbbing cock.
But Herb had to admit that for suffering, there was nothing quite so delicious as the pain of forcing his prod deep into the confines of a too-tight pussy. If he was really lucky, maybe he could have a heart attack and die this way instead of dribbling to death in some dreary convalescent home. He decided that if ever the government came to its senses and asked him to run the country, one of the first things he would do would be to abolish rest homes. Instead, he would recruit a volunteer stud corps and every poor old man or woman now in a rest home would, instead, be fucked to death.
Goddamn it! There he went letting his mind wander again. Such woolgathering was understandable, if not excusable, while Mrs. Klohn did Her forty-year-old, forty-inch-titted best to suck him into dry-bagged idiocy. But how could he for one second forget that he was on top of ninety pounds of strawberry blonde, long-legged, tiny-waisted, firmly pink-nippled tits, and a twenty-two-year-old cunt tighter than the prime rate in 1931?
He focused his eyes on her, reared back the better to admire the creamy perfection of that trim little body. God, just to pull back and look down at that slim perfection, to know that she was his, that he had his cock deep inside her!
Somewhere at the back of his mind lurked faint afterimages of old Kate, of little Evie. But this was the twenty-two-year-old, no legal complications, bird in the hand whose ass he had admired for months each time those long thighs and crotch-flirting miniskirt twinkled down the hall. Damn! She had known how he watched her--had sensed the deep aching need that welled up in him each time he saw that long, straight blonde hair cascade down over tiny, firmly skyward-pointing tits.
Was that why all the older women in this building seemed to have the hots for him? Was it because they all knew something he hadn't known--that any man who could yearn that hard after young cunt was not nearly as near death as he had thought?
Goddamn it! There he went woolgathering again. He must be getting senile if he couldn't keep his mind on fucking this lovely bit of stuff.
But his wandering mind had blunted the edge of his hard-on. Funny. Before he had been trying to come. Now he had to struggle not to. He pulled it the rest of the way out until the tip of his tool was barely touching the parted lips of her cunt. Then slowly, he began pushing it back in, beginning his second stroke.
Damn! It seemed to Herb that he had been fucking away for hours. Had he actually only gotten it in a moment ago? Was this only his second stroke? Bemusedly, he guessed it was. He focused his eyes and she smiled up at him. As he shoved, her ass rose to meet him and he felt his rod revive at the smooth tightness which increased as he drove deep into her erotic cunt-funnel.
She smiled up at him and puckered her lips. He bent to kiss her and they swapped tongues for a joyous minute while he tried to get with it, struggled to get his old ass moving in three quarter time as he drove his throbbing dong deep into her trim little ass, in and out, in and out, in and out in a horizontal waltz. He could feel his crotch gathering forces again, climbing slowly up a wall of passion, struggling to attain that lover's leap whence he could dive and lose his soul in a pool of passion. He was going to come. Goddamn it, he was going to come and ruin it all!
Charlie gasped and stopped swapping tongues long enough to breathe. "You dirty old man!" she crooned. "You think I'm going to slip out from under you and run away! " She wrapped her long, creamy skinned legs round his waist in an erotic scissors and squeezed, pulling him into her seething little cunt, deeper, harder, hotter, faster!
Herb gasped and struggled to contain himself.
"Let yourself go," she urged. "I'll still be around when you're ready for the next time."
CHAPTER NINE
It sounded like the best offer Herb had had all night. He decided to stop fighting it. He began pouring his cock to her with joyous abandon. Charlie entered into the spirit of things, her agile, firm muscled little body twisting and squirming, grinding her pelvis against his, lunging and thrusting, throwing him every way but off.
But his old man's body reacted with its usual perversity. He had been afraid Charlie was performing a disagreeable duty, perhaps bribing him with her ass to keep out of little Evie's. Now that he was finally convinced that she was fucking him not out of duty or obligation, but for the sheer joy of feeling his cock slide in and out of her tight little ass--now that the need to prolong what might be his only chance ever to sample the joys of her strawberry blonde cunt was over, his throbbing crotch was once more relaxed. He was in no danger of coming. Instead, he was once more assailed with that tiny tendril of anxiety that perturbs all old men. Would he be able to come at all?
Who cared? This was not a routine joy job like Mrs. Klohn. Herb resolved to go down fighting. If he had to fuck all night he wouldn't mind pouring it to this lovely bit of gash. Hell, he could push his prod in and out of Charlie for hours and never tire. He resolved to do his best to wear out that tiny tight cunt--at least to force her into a few dozen orgasms that would loosen her up and fill her brimming with the juices of joy.
Charlie seemed to be in wholehearted concurrence with his plans. Each time he thrust her ass rose to meet him, holding nothing back as she rammed and slammed, drawing him into her deeper, harder, faster. Wow, did it ever feel good!
Herb remembered how it used to be twenty or thirty years ago when he had been a hot-blooded young stud with a hair-trigger cock, when each piece of ass had been a squeezing contest between his hot, hair-trigger prick and his ass muscles pulled tight together, straining with the effort not to come. There was something to be said for growing old after all, he guessed.
Now he was not struggling to do anything except to hang onto Charlie's humping ass. He was in full erection, cock rock hard and throbbing. He was pouring it to her as hard, as hot and fast as he could drive into her trim quim, sparing nothing, not trying to come, not trying not to come as he savored the ecstasy of a hot cock sliding joyously in and out, in and out, pouring his all into her joyous pussy.
Charlie was giving measure for measure. He felt a sudden gush of wetness and. knew she had come. There was the barest instant of relaxation as she gasped. Her eyes lit up with the joy that passeth all understanding and then they were off again, her brimming cunt tightening and squeezing just as if she hadn't exploded only seconds ago.
Herb was getting his second wind, pouring it to her with long steady strokes, stopping at the bottom of each thrust to grind his pelvis against the strawberry blonde curls of her pubic patch, his rockhard rigidity twisting and churning inside her, stretching her in unexpected directions and giving her trim belly delightful erotic surprises with each bump and grind.
"Aaaaahhh!" Charlie sighed.
"Ooooohhhh!" Herb agreed.
They paused a moment and reared back to look at one another. Satisfied with what they saw, they let their bodies collide once more. Charlie pursed her lips and they kissed, swapping tongues with joyous abandon while he pushed, held, ground, pulled slowly out and pushed his throbbing cock back into her seething little cunt again. She was brimming with joyous juices but her tiny twat was so tight that Herb didn't mind. Jesus, when had he ever had a fuck as good as this trim little blonde?
Herb knew he could go on forever this way. She was tight, her snug little cunt fit his cock like they were made for each other. She was slick, filled to overflowing with the juice from repeated orgasms but she was so delightfully snug and tiny that there was no hint of flabby satiation. Charlie was still raising her ass to meet his every thrust, cooperating as enthusiastically as if she were being paid by the mile.
The nagging threat of stone ache that had dogged him all the time he was hoping and praying that Mrs. Klohn could pull his load down her throat was finally gone. He was rock hard, raring to go, and knew he could go all night, all day, all tomorrow night unless trim, hard-bodied little Charlie were to gasp and faint from exhaustion before then.
Gone was the worry about his own stamina. So he was old? Big deal! He wasn't even gasping now. He was breathing steadily and easily, in time with his thrusting, driving his cock deep up her prurient little pussy and punctuating each shove with a joyous grunt.
Her ass was rising to meet him with a joyous wham-bam, heedless of consequences, not caring how soon it ended. She had come Christ knew how many times and she was willing to come again--and again and AGAIN!
Herb suddenly realized that he was going to come too. He knew it now. With a certain sure instinct he knew that this time it was no false alarm. This time his mind was not going to want to wander off and leave him flaccid again. His body, his soul and his mind had joined forces to give their all to the ninety pounds of joy which rose from the mattress to greet his every stroke. He had reached the point of no return. He was slamming it into her harder, faster, pounding his pelvis against her ass with joyous jabs, no longer trying not to come, not trying to do anything but put it to her, pour his meat into her hotter, harder, faster!
She sensed his coming crescendo and her ass gave a little flurry of staccato thumps against him, meeting his thrusting cock with a two-to-one rhythm. Jesus, did it ever feel good!
Somewhere in the building somebody had an old-fashioned radio out of tune--one of those old super heterodyne sets that would squeal and wail if not right on station. Then abruptly he realized nobody had had one of those old howlers for thirty years now. The squeals and wails were coming from Charlie as his tireless cock pried her loose from sanity, prized her lovely little body off the edge of a chasm of orgasm.
Then suddenly they were both moaning and groaning, clinging tightly to one another as his cock throbbed and thumped in her fibrillating pussy. Herb was coming. It had taken him hours of alternate prayer and despair but he could feel it spurting as great joyous gobs of thick, long-hoarded come shot from his twitching, throbbing cock, filling her slight body, filling her soul with joy unconfined.
He felt it spurt from him like a fire hose, great viscid volumes of semen jetting from his cock. It hurt. But oh, Jesus, had anything ever hurt so good?
They clung to one another, grabbing each other's asses to preserve the vital connection. His cock was deep, deep into her and he was still coming, filling her, stuffing her with the hoarded fruits of his abstinence.
Charlie was coming, too, coming again as love's elixir flowed from her joybrimming pussy to mingle with his venerable juices. Moaning and groaning, they rode out the storm, clinging to one another, kissing, caressing, greedily seeking the last drop of erotic joy from this prolonged culmination to the rites of love.
Finally they subsided, satiated, exhausted, utterly spent. His cock was still inside her. Flaccid now, shrinking back to its normal size, his cock was still imprisoned inside the come-filled confines of that tight little cunt. Goddamn! Even now, slick and full of come, fucked-out she was still tighter than most of the women he had known in a lifetime of connoisseur fucking.
They lay half crossways of one another, his cock still in her. Herb dozed for a moment and was suddenly brought back to reality when her snug little box contracted and gave his flaccid cock a friendly squeeze. For one awestricken moment he thought it was going to rise again already.
He was wide awake again, trying to convince himself that it had actually happened, that it was not all just another one of those old man's dreams. He turned to look at her and Charlie gave him a smile of happy satiation. "You're wonderful," she said.
They lay in silent contentment for a while, caressing one another's bodies, drawing the final drop of erotic joy from their encounter. Herb could not remember, in forty-seven years of fucking, when he had ever had a more perfect piece. He wanted to rouse his tired old cock and try it again, pour it one more time to this vision before she disappeared. But, damn, was he tired!
Charlie sensed it. "I'm tired, too," she said. "Been on my feet all night." She kissed him and slid from beneath him. As his flaccid cock pulled from her snug pussy there was a tiny 'thuck' like a champagne cork. "How about this time tomorrow morning?" she asked.
"How about sooner?"
Charlie's eyes lit up, and Herb suddenly knew he r really wasn't getting the brush-off. This lovely slip of a girl had really gotten a proper turn-on out of his old war horse. She glanced over his head at the clock. Daylight was beginning to seep around the edge of the drapes. "Well," she said, "Eight hours from now will be about noon. Give me an hour to feed the kid and send her off to a matinee and that'll give us the whole afternoon from, say, two to five. How does that grab your tired old tool?"
"About the way I'm going to grab you," Herb said but she ducked out of reach. She hastened into blouse and mini and stuffed the rest of her clothes into her handbag. After a careful glance out the door she made a beeline two doors down the hall to her own.
Herb lay spreadeagled atop his bed, still asking himself if it had really happened. Jesus, what a piece she was! And it was going to happen again eight hours from now if he could just get it up. He ought to get up and take a shower, get back to bed and prepare himself for the next encounter on the fields of venus, but he was so deliciously empty and tired he couldn't get up steam enough to get off the bed.
The next time he awoke it was ten in the morning and bright sunlight was leaking in around the drapes. His cock and pubic hair were incrusted with dried come, part his, part hers. Remembering how lovely she was, he could hardly bring himself to wash it off. But a man had to be practical. He staggered stiffly into the shower. He came out and made coffee. He found clean clothes and went out to check his mail box. There was a note from Mrs. Klohn: 'Tonight at ten.'
He wondered what he was going to do about that willing woman. There had to be some way out of it. Suddenly he realized that sooner or later her husband would be home and once she compared notes with old Fred and discovered that he had not been calling her... But, Herb tried to philosophize, if she pressed too much he could always threaten her with her husband; even if it did seem a chickenshit thing to do. But he'd managed to avoid her for months. He'd never chased her. She had no rights to his old cock. That was for Charlie. Or Evie...
Suddenly he was thinking about the lovely dangerous little twelve-year-old again. And after Charlie! Damn! Why couldn't he let well enough alone? Charlie was the nicest fuck he could ever remember. She liked him and they could have a good thing going as long as he could get it up. If he could just manage to keep his cotton-picking hands off that twelve-year-old piece of jail bait.
What the hell, he told himself. A couple of hours more and Charlie would have the little girl packed off to a movie, and then he and Charlie could inventory each other's bodies and talk about all the wonderful things they were going to do to one another and all the things they hadn't gotten around to doing last night and...
He wondered what had happened to all the other tenants in this building. Normally by now, one of them would be banging on the door to pay rent or explain why the rent was going to be late this month or to complain about some goddam thing. He tried to think of his daily routine. What did he have to do today? The lawns were mowed.
He'd pruned and sprayed the shrubbery only three days ago. There was a vacancy to clean and redecorate on the top floor but, thank god he wasn't responsible for that. Then finally he remembered what he was responsible for. He had to go vacuum the pool and check the filters.
He checked his watch. There was just about time to do it before Charlie woke up and did what she had to do before they got together again. Damn! Just think of it, old man; in another couple of hours you're going to fuck Charlie again!
The sun was blinding when he reached the pool which was in a patio surrounded by apartments. Somebody was splashing and giggling. It was always a pain in the ass to have to vacuum the pool with some kid in there bumping the hose. But he hated to chase them away. It was hard enough to manage apartments without all the tenants calling him an old grouch. He began putting his lengths of pipe and hose together. Then his eyes stopped down and he could see the slight figure in bathing cap and yellow, practically-nothing bikini. It was Evie.
The tiny bikini top seemed to emphasize the nascent curve of her just-beginning bust. Herb tried to tend to business, not to stare. After all, he'd seen her without anything on from the waist up. Why couldn't he keep his eyes off that lithe form, those eighty pounds of potential trouble?
Evie's twelve-year-old body bobbed to the surface again. She spun and saw Herb. "Hi," she said.
"Hello," Herb said and went on cleaning the pool. From the corner of his eye he could see somebody else coming to swim. It was Mrs. Klohn.
In a two piece suit Mrs. Klohn's firm forties and her firm, unlined belly were the answer to an old man's prayer--any old man except Herb. "Morning," he said as neutrally as possible.
"Good morning, Mr. Herbert," she said. She found a chaise longue and positioned herself with tanning oil at the ready.
Evie burst from the water again. "Herb," she called, "You going to tell me another bedtime story tonight?"
CHAPTER TEN
Mrs. Klohn shot a look of dark suspicion. Herb wished he could dive into the pool and swim up the end of his vacuum cleaner. He managed some kind of noncommittal mumble and began to have all kinds of trouble with his vacuum cleaner. He wanted desperately to escape, but he sensed that the instant he was gone Mrs. Klohn would turn on her not inconsiderable charm and little Evie would spill every foot of gut from her delectable little belly.
To hell with it, he told himself. You don't owe that bitch anything. Which was true, of course. But when a man reached Herb's age the one thing that had any hopes of even being in the same league with last night's fuck had to be peace. There were times when a man would do practically anything just for a little peace--not piece. And if Mrs. Klohn ever got it through her head that he was getting it on with another woman in this building...
He vacuumed the pool, and still Mrs. Klohn lurked in the chaise longue with tanning oil. And little Evie still practiced diving. She was pretty good at a half gainer, he had to admit. Would neither of them ever leave? He fiddled with the filter. It didn't really need cleaning, but he was afraid to leave them alone and so he did it anyhow, philosophizing that it might save him time some other day--some day when he could be slipping it to Charlie.
Goddamn it, he told himself, I haven't done anything illegal. I don't have anything to hide. What am I worrying about? If Mrs. Klohn gives me any kind of a bad time I'll tell her to fuck off or I'll tell her husband--tell him she's fucking around with somebody every time he's gone.
But in his years Herb had learned that the surest way to disaster was to leave a woman angry. Somehow he had to leave her laughing or she would spend her empty days dreaming up endless torments for him. Gossip, anonymous letters, a woman scorned could dream up more goddamn things... But how do you tell a woman you're not going to fuck her any more and make her think it was all her idea? Hmmm.
You're too good for me?
Your husband is too good a friend of mine?
A fine healthy woman like you needs a younger man?
You nearly gave me a coronary and my doctor says to stop?
I'm a diabetic and your pussy's too sweet?
He finished backflushing the filter and still Evie was practicing half gainers and still Mrs. Klohn lurked with suntan oil at the ready. He began vacuuming again. Another twenty minutes and he could no longer pretend to be catching spots he had missed the first time. He put the things away and began clipping the bushes.
"How about it?" Evie shrieked. "You comin' around to tell me another story tonight? Aunt Charlie says it's all right."
She would! Herb gave up. Sooner or later Mrs. Klohn was going to capture Evie and pump her dry. There was nothing he could do about it. He packed up his tools and went back to his apartment.
Halfway down the hall he met a radiant Charlie in short shorts and halter. "Hi," she said, and brushed past him. "Eeeeevie!" she called, "Come have lunch now."
Herb gave silent thanks for disaster temporarily averted. He realized suddenly that he was expecting a visitor. He began tidying up the apartment. A half hour later he had swept out, changed sheets, showered and shaved, put on clean clothes and was waiting for a knock on the door.
It came and he tried not to stumble in his haste to open it. But when the door opened it was Mrs. Klohn. She was still in two-piece bathing suit, her shoulders, thighs and belly glistening with oil. "I couldn't wait till tonight," she gushed.
For an instant Herb wondered what the fuck she was talking about, then he remembered the note in his mail box. "Uh, I'm afraid you'll have to," he cautioned. "I was just on the way to tell you your Fred's been calling again. He wants to know why you're never in your apartment to answer the phone."
Mrs. Klohn shot him a dark look of disbelief, but Herb's blue eyes were guileless. She frowned in thought then found a happy solution. "We can go to my place."
It was Herb's turn to improvise. "I'd really love to," he said, "But I'm expecting somebody." Before her face could finish clouding up he added, "The owner of the building comes around every once in a while to see how things are and I have to give him a report.
Mrs. Klohn struggled to conceal her disappointment. "Well," she said brightly, "There's always tonight."
Herb managed not to sigh. As he let Mrs. Klohn out and watch her magnificent progress down the hall he thought he saw movement two doors down the hall. Mrs. Klohn must have seen it, too. She glared at the blank door, daring it to open. Down the hall another door opened and a blameless old lady--practically the only one in the building who had not at one time or another laid a trap for Herb caught the full force of Mrs. Klohn's glare.
Herb closed the door wondering what he was going to do. Mrs. Klohn's suspicions were aroused. Charlie was due any moment and there would be no joy in their encounter if he was expecting a knock on the door any minute. Besides, it wouldn't be fair to Charlie to let her in for that kind of a row. What was he going to do? Maybe he ought to invite Charlie to go for a ride in his battered camper. Twenty minutes would have them out of the city and surely somewhere in the boondocks they could tear off a long lovely piece without worrying about Mrs. Klohn...
Then abruptly Herb knew what to do. Evie would be off at a matinee. Charlie would be alone in her apartment. If he could just get in without Mrs. Klohn... The phone rang.
"Hello?"
"This is Charlie."
Immediately Herb knew something was wrong. Shit! He might have known it was too good to be true. He should have fucked her one more time last night while he still had the chance. Now it would be one goddamn thing after another until he finally got it through his old gray head that Charlie was brushing him off just as surely as he was brushing off Mrs. Klohn. Shit! Shit squared and shit cubed!
"It's Sis," Charlie explained.
Herb waited numbly, knowing that whatever explanation, he was not going to dip his wick in Charlie's lovely ass this afternoon.
"The Vegas deal blew up," Charlie explained, "But she's got another offer working a club in Miami and she's left me stuck with you-know-who until she gets settled there. It might be all summer."
"Yeah," Herb said, still numb with disappointment. "Well, things are tough all over."
"I know," Charlie mourned. "I wanted to make it just as bad as you but Sis is here now and I can't very well send both of them to a matinee."
Herb guessed she couldn't. Oh, well, he philosophized, it was nice while it lasted. At least he would never forget that one memorable session with Charlie. Jesus, what a lovely, juicy fuck that had been. His cock began rising at the memory of her slight cream-skinned body in spite of his disappointment.
They promised to get together soon and though Charlie seemed sincere Herb, by his age, had developed an instinct for certain things and he knew with dull certainty that something was going to go wrong tonight and every other goddamn time and he was never going to fuck Charlie again. Nor was he ever going to get another look at little Evie's lovely little body.
He was so disappointed he almost felt like going down to Mrs. Klohn's for another blow job. But only eight hours after Charlie's trim little ass that temptation was not too hard to resist. He wondered why he couldn't have a thing for solid women like the forty-inch-busted Mrs. Klohn. She wasn't all that far removed from a Playboy centerfold in spite of being forty. Her Junoesque body was unlined. She was a skilled practitioner and she was willing. What more could a man want? He wanted twenty-two-year-old Charlie's ninety pounds --or twelve-year-old Evie's just-starting-to-bloom eighty pounds, no matter what the risks of playing with jail bait.
Gloomily, Herb realized that at the moment he was going to get none of the three. Instead, he opened the refrigerator and got a can of beer. Sipping it, he realized that little Evie was still very much in evidence. He had thought himself home free when Charlie had decoyed him away from that twelve-year-old flame but now Evie's mother had gone haring off after another job and the little girl was going to be around all summer. Jesus! He'd better find some way of getting it on with Charlie or else he'd better start walking around with a pitchfork in front of his face so he would be used to looking through bars.
The phone rang again. If that's Mrs. Klohn, I'll ask her if she can blow me with a paper bag over her head. But when he answered, it was a man's voice. "Sorry to bother you but I've been trying to get through all day. It's urgent that I speak with Mrs. Klohn."
Herb wondered if there was a special god that looked out for dirty old men. It was Mr. Klohn. "Hello, Fred," he said. "Hang on a moment and I'll see if she's still out by the pool."
Mrs. Klohn was. Mrs. Klohn's look was of darkest suspicion which suddenly turned kittenish when she decided this was all just a ploy to get her into his apartment. Mrs. Klohn's attitude underwent another sudden reversal when she picked up the phone and--sure enough, it really was Fred calling long distance. Herb diplomatically stepped outside.
Two doors down the hall Charlie and another striking blonde stepped out. "Hi," Charlie said. "This is Sis."
Herb made the necessary social noises and prayed that Mrs. Klohn would not choose this moment to step out of his apartment. Not that it made that much difference, he knew. When things didn't work out they just didn't work out. He was never going to fuck Charlie again.
Herb's door opened and Mrs. Klohn did step out. She was in tears. Suddenly Herb, Charlie, even Sis were all attention and sympathy.
"It's Fred," she wailed.
"Is something wrong?"
"He's been promoted," Mrs. Klohn blubbered. "He's going to be a district manager."
"That's bad?" Herb asked.
Mrs. Klohn shot the two younger women a venomous look.
"In Nebraska?" she shrieked. "We've got to move!"
Suddenly Charlie gave Herb a very knowing look. "You dirty old man!" she murmured. Still sobbing, Mrs. Klohn walked blindly down the hall toward her door. Charlie and Sis walked toward the street. Herb stood alone in the hall, wondering if he should slash his wrists now or wait till tonight.
But what the hell? No matter what happened, whether Mrs. Klohn had come out at that moment or not, Herb knew he had blown it--blown it just as surely as Mrs. Klohn had blown him. Shit! He might as well let his tired old cock settle down and get used to the idea of a serene and untroubled old age. This was probably his last chance. There were plenty of women around that had the hots for him. But was there one among the lot who could coax a hard-on from his tired old tool?
He let himself back into his apartment and closed the door. The place was all fixed up to entertain Charlie. Shit again! He had finished his work for the day. There was nothing but soap operas on the afternoon TV. He was too sick at heart to read. What's wrong with you, old man? he asked. Acting like some goddamn teenager! You're old enough to know if any goddamn thing can possibly go wrong it will. You knew last night in your heart of hearts and your cock of cocks that you'd never ever get it into Charlie again. That's the kind of thing that comes once in a lifetime. And your lifetime's getting pretty fucking close to ended. Or fucking ended or... shit!
He sat in his chair, staring at the blank TV, too apathetic to go open a can of beer. Abruptly, he knew exactly what was going to happen next. Mrs. Klohn would have repaired her face by now. She would have decided to make the most of her final hours of days or--how long did she have to pack up and move? Before she could ring him up and arrange another assignation he took the phone off the hook.
There was a-knock on the door. It was too soon for Mrs. Klohn of the forty-inch tits to have tried to phone him and given up. He sat quiet, hoping whoever would go away. Then he realized he couldn't take out his pique on some blameless tenant. Somebody might be having trouble. Miraculously, somebody might even be coming to pay the rent. He sighed and got to his feet and opened the door.
It was Evie.
In his desolation over the wreck of I'affaire Charlie Herb had managed completely to forget about little Evie. She had changed the yellow bikini for another ancient cotton blouse and short shorts. This pair of shorts was newer and didn't bite into her little ass quite so cruelly as those of yesterday but the effect on a lonely old man was just as overpowering. She wore loafers and bobby socks and her hair was once more done up loosely in a yellow ribbon.
Herb stepped aside and she came in. He closed and locked the door again and when he looked around she was gone. Now what the hell? He heard her in the bedroom. He went in and she was bouncing. "Yours is softer," she insisted.
"They're all the same," Herb said resignedly, "All from the same factory, delivered by the same truck on the same day when they furnished this building."
"Awwww!" Evie said in disbelief. She stopped bouncing and lay spreadeagled.
"You shouldn't do that," Herb said.
"Why?"
He shrugged. "It gives people wrong ideas. Especially old men." Glancing down at her was like a double exposure as he superimposed Charlie's slightly more mature and slightly more naked body atop hers. Goddamn--what would it be like to try with little Evie all the things he'd done with Charlie?
It would be highly dangerous and illegal among other things. Which did not mean it wouldn't be fun. Standing beside the bed, looking down at her slight, just blooming body, Herb wondered if it might not be worth the price just to do it once before he died--to exorcise the memory of old Kate.
"You forgot," she accused.
"What did I forget?"
"You forgot what you promised."
This conversation could go on forever, Herb suspected. "I'm sorry," he sighed. "Old men get forgetful. Now just what was it I forgot?"
"You were going to tell me."
Herb tried to control his exasperation. He had to get her out of here before Mrs. Klohn or somebody else showed up. "All right!" he snapped. "But exactly and specifically, what was it I was going to tell you?"
"How to screw."
Herb stared aghast, wondering if his ears were playing tricks. It had to be wishful thinking of some kind. She had said something perfectly innocent and his prurient old subconscious was hearing what he wanted with all his heart, soul, and gonadia to hear.
"Last night you said old men screw sometimes. You said you do it. You told me you'd tell me all about it today."
"Oh," Herb said defeatedly. Now he remembered.
What was he going to do? It would be fun to take this lovely little eighty pounds of jail bait on his knee and undress her and play with her and rub her and pet her and kiss her and stick his hot throbbing cock into her tiny, virginal pussy--but...
But Jesus Christ! He remembered how she had shrieked across the pool about bedtime stories. Wouldn't it be lovely if tomorrow she were to shriek at the top of her glass-shattering voice, "Hey Herb, when we gonna screw again?"
God, how it would be lovely to do all the things that come naturally! But... but what was he going to do? She lay spreadeagled on his bed still, looking up trustingly, expectantly. He wondered if he dared...
"Do you know how to keep a secret?" he asked.
"What kind of a secret?"
"Well," he improvised. "Haven't you ever thought maybe grownups have a good reason for not telling little girls how to screw?"
Evie frowned. "Well golly, I guess so," she said. "Aunt Charlie's pretty good, but even she won't tell me anything about--"
"Little girls talk too much."
"Awww!"
"You yelled clear across the pool about a bedtime story," he explained.
"So what?"
"So if I told you something little girls are not supposed to know you'd yell it out next day, and then somebody would find out and they'd find out who told you and--" Hastily Herb shifted his line of reasoning. "They'd find out, and I'd have to tell them you made me tell you and then they'd take you off to juvie and you might not ever get out."
"I won't tell," Evie promised.
"Cross your heart?"
Evie traced her fingers across the tiny sensuous bulge of one just beginning tit. For an instant Herb could see the tiny pink nipple outlined in the thin white cotton of her blouse.
Herb hesitated, then sighed. He was doing a lot of sighing lately. Finally he accepted what he had actually known the first time he had ever seen this lovely child--that sooner or later, no matter how firm his intentions, his rebellious old cock would be firmer still and--in for an inch, in for a mile. Could he even get it into her tiny twelve-year-old twat? "It's lots of fun," he said. "But sometimes, if you're too young or too little, it hurts a little bit the first time."
"I'm big for my age," Evie said. "I can pass for thirteen."
It was true enough, Herb guessed. Little Evie came up to his armpit. Maybe eighty pounds. But she was mostly endless long legs--God how lovely this long-stemmed little blossom. But he had to be fair. He had to give her every chance to chicken out. "First," he explained. "If you're going to screw, the first thing you have to do is take off all j your clothes."
This, apparently, did not frighten little Evie. On the other hand, she didn't make the next move. Instead, she still lay spreadeagled on his bed, looking up at him from guileless blue eyes. Herb looked down at her. Finally, gingerly he sat on the edge of the bed.
"Is that fun?" Evie asked.
Herb nodded. "So much fun," he explained, "That lots of times people undress each other."
"Yeah?" There was a note of rising interest in little Evie's voice. But still she lay motionless on the bed. "And then what?" she asked.
Herb wondered how to put it in twelve-year-old's terms. "Well, after you've both got your clothes off you play around and wrestle and tickle each other and all kinds of things like that."
"Is that all? Golly, you could do that with your clothes on."
"Well," Herb admitted, "There's a little more to it than that. That's just the beginning."
"How about the part that makes babies?"
"That used to be the real bad part when I was a kid," Herb admitted. "But nowadays girls have the pill and boys have things they can do and somebody has to be pretty stupid to get caught with a baby."
"What kinds of things can boys do?"
"Oh, dozens," Herb said. "Myself, I had something permanent done years ago--before you were born. After a vasectomy no man's ever going to get a little girl pregnant."
"You're sure?"
"Cross my heart," Herb grinned.
"Golly. Will you do it?"
"Do what?"
"Well, screw, for golly sakes!"
"If you want." Saying it, Herb knew he had burned his last bridge. For what he was about to do he would end up in Hell or San Quentin--maybe both. But before he ended up in either place, with luck and an hour without interruption he was going to end up in little Evie's twelve-year-old panties!
Suddenly Evie was no longer spreadeagled on the bed. "You first or me?" she asked.
For a moment Herb didn't know what she meant. Then with a sudden throbbing in his crotch he did know. "Whatever turns you on," he said. Saying it, he was acutely aware that that particular expression must be ten years out of date.
Evie's twelve-year-old body bounced from the bed and she stood in front of him. Herb sat on the edge of the bed and the luscious little girl crowded between his legs to struggle with the buttons on his shirt. With him sitting and Evie standing, they were the same height. He wanted to draw her to him and kiss her but instinct warned him to keep it lighthearted, frolicksome and playful if he didn't want to frighten her. His hands curved forward, unable to avoid the trap of that tiny, eminently edible little body. He grasped her lightly around the waist, checking for size to see if he could close his hands around her. It was a tight stretch but he made it.
Evie giggled and continued fumbling with his l buttons.
Ill What was he going to do with her? Herb knew what he ought to do. With his luck and the million things that could happen to interrupt him, if he had any real hope of getting it into her before something happened to spoil it all, he ought to grab her, snatch her tiny virginal panties off, lay her down on the bed and nail her to the mattress without preliminaries. But what fun was there in that?
Instead, he sat patient on the edge of the bed, trying to ignore the rising bulge in his crotch as Evie frowned and bit her tongue while she struggled with his shirt buttons. He got his hands under her blouse and began caressing the smooth firm skin of her tiny waist. She giggled again.
"That tickles."
"Good," Herb said. "If you're a brave little girl and don't chicken out I'll show you some other tickles." Abruptly his exploring hands discovered the row of buttons down her slender back. He managed them somewhat more skillfully than Evie was managing his. They finished in a dead heat and Evie worked his shirt off his shoulders and down his arms. As she drew backward he held on and her white sleeveless blouse stayed behind.
Evie stood back and studied him. Herb guessed after all the dreaming and wishing he might as well fill his eyes with the cockstiffening sight of her tiny pink nipples and the just-beginning-to-swell mounds that were adding punctuation to her tiny body. He wondered if she would panic or complain or cool off if he were to draw her to him and kiss the tender new contours of her nascent jugs. "Is that all?" she asked.
Herb shook his head, not trusting himself to speak. "This is only the beginning," he finally managed.
"Golly! You really mean everything?" Evie's voice was filled with delight and disbelief.
Herb nodded and caught her behind the knee. While the little girl balanced on one foot he removed her shoe and bobby sock. He spun her by the waist and when her firm little ass was crushing the bulge in his pants he took off her other shoe and sock. Eyes gleaming with excitement, Evie stood before him in short shorts and a yellow hair ribbon. "Do I get to take off your pants?" she asked.
* * *
"If you want to. But it might be easier if you got my shoes and socks off first." He lay back on the bed and let her pull off his loafers. Moments later she knelt between his thighs, twisting her face in concentration as she struggled with his belt buckle. His hands curved upward to pull her down. Then he hesitated. It was too good to be true. She still thought this was some kind of kid's game that would end in a tickling match or some-such innocuous foolishness. There would come a moment when she discovered the real nature of fucking and then her little girl's mind would not be as ready as her blossoming body. She would panic and he would have to comfort her and hide his disappointment and will his raging cock to subside while he told her he had only been fooling and of course grown ups never did dirty things like that and...
She had solved the combination. His belt parted and she was struggling with the button. Then she was working at his zipper. Jesus, how it hurt not to grab that lovely little body that knelt between his legs! He gritted his teeth and told himself that it wouldn't happen--that something would not come up to spoil it all before the little girl was naked in bed beside his naked body and they had their arms and legs around each other and he could gently warn her that if she wanted to be a real big grown up girl she had to be still and relax and not cry when it hurt a little bit and...
Finally Evie had done everything she could with his pants. She stepped back and got his feet together and began pulling on his pants legs. Herb raised his ass off the bed to help her. Suddenly he realized he was making a tactical mistake. Once she got his pants off... he remembered that day with old Kate--how she had maneuvered and cheated unashamedly to get him uncovered before she Little Evie still had her short shorts and hair ribbon on. Herb guessed he could handle little Evie with her yellow ribbon. But there wouldn't be much fucking unless he could get those white short shorts off her trim little ass before she undraped his raging rod.
It was too late now. Evie gave an expert tug and his trousers went the full distance, sliding down off his crotch and down his legs to land with a clunk of pocket knife and keys on the floor. His cock sprang to full, vibrant erection, pointing as firmly skyward as it had twenty years ago when he had still been a welterweight stud.
"Golly!" Evie marveled. "It's BIG!"
Goddamn! Herb thought. Now she's going to panic and she'll know nothing that big could ever get inside her and she'll start crying and I'll have to put my pants back on and comfort her and-- Eyes still bright with excitement, Evie was grabbing his cock with both hands, gripping it like two batters choosing up sides.
Herb closed his eyes, held his breath, and gritted his teeth. He squeezed with every muscle in his body, struggling to contain himself, spastic with the effort not to spill his seed under the eager, unskilled grip of this child's two hands. What a marvelous thing is man, he thought when the first mad spasm of passion had passed. This girl's awkward, two-fisted grab had done more than hours of Mrs. Klohn's skillful ministrations with the deepest throat this side of Lovelace. "Take it easy!" he gasped. "That's not the way to do it."
"Oh?" The innocence in Evie's blue eyes nearly made him come.
"Pretend it's a kitty--a puppy or a baby rabbit," he managed. "It's tender and you've got to be very careful or you'll hurt it."
"Oh. Gee, I'm sorry."
"That's all right," Herb said. He sat up on the bed and drew her to him. With one fluid motion before she could have second thoughts or change her mind he peeled down short shorts and tight-fitting rayon panties the same color as her nipples in one fluid motion. Now Evie stood before him clad only in a yellow hair ribbon and eighty pounds of twelve-year-old, just blossoming flesh eager to master the next step on the ladder toward full-fledged passionate womanhood.
Herb tried not to make a big thing out of it, then he realized little Evie was still so fascinated by the full throbbing erection between his legs that she had scarcely noticed when he finished unveiling her tiny perfection. He stared his fill at the lush triangle of her pubis which was just growing its first fuzzy crop of strawberry blonde hair.
The prominence of her bony triangle was accentuated by its bareness. Between her just-rounding thighs he could see plainly the labia majora which in older women are always hidden beneath a lush jungle of hair. Evie's lips were so clean Herb suddenly knew he could kiss them as easily as any lips--could savor their fullness and passionate ripeness without getting a mouthful of hair. If only he could manage to convince this innocent little girl that kissing her nether lips was not 'dirty'.
A fat chance of that, he knew. It was sad. Part of toilet training, he supposed, but it usually took a man a while to de-program a girl from all that 'dirty-dirty' nonsense her mother had drilled into her. Some girls never did achieve liberation from this infantile hangup. Some girls, Herb guessed, were not as fortunate as the voluptuous and Junoesque Mrs. Klohn. The memory of her throat surrounding his staff gave him a sudden surge of joy.
"Golly! Why did it do that?" Evie asked.
Herb caught her slender little just-rounding ass and drew her to him. "Come lie down beside me and I'll tell you," he promised.
Evie got onto the bed without protest. "On top or underneath?" Herb asked.
"Huh?"
Herb chuckled and pulled a willing little girl on top of him. Her creamy-skinned chest, belly and crotch slid over the bottom of his hot throbbing hard-on, raising him another step on passion's ladder.
"Golly, that felt funny," Evie said.
"How does this feel?" Herb asked. With one arm round her waist lest she escape, he got a knee between her legs and then two knees and then as the giggling girl was spreadeagled atop him he got a hand into her crotch and one finger into the damp of her gaping split.
For a panic-stricken moment Herb was convinced that he had gone too far too fast. Evie stiffened and he felt every nerve in the tiny body atop him tense. Then she giggled and relaxed and everything was all right again. Herb kept his finger in the middle of her pubescent pussy. "Golly," Evie mused. "Is that all there is to screwing?"
"There's a little more to it than that," Herb explained. "Don't you know that a man has something he sticks in a girl?"
"Awww!" Evie said. "You don't expect me to believe that old bull! I saw Grandpa's once when he wasn't lookin', and I knew it was too big and-- golly--yours is even bigger!"
"That's comforting to know," Herb said. "But girls do it all the time, girls that are big enough." He thought a moment and added a little white lie to encourage her. "I had a twelve-year-old girl friend once who was really good at it."
"No foolin'?"
"No fooling," Herb echoed. "But there are all sorts of things we can do first."
"Like what?"
"Don't you like to kiss?"
In reply little Evie was all over him, kissing his eyes, his ears, his nose, his lips. Herb rode out the storm. When she ran down slightly he captured her by the ears and pulled her lips down to his. He held her to him until she gasped, then drove his tongue past her lips.
Evie stiffened again for an instant, then abruptly she adapted and darted her tongue into his mouth. He held her tiny nude body atop his and they kissed deep and repeatedly. His eyes struggled to focus and he knew suddenly with a hot thrill of conquest that her smooth creamy skin was flushing as the little girl underwent her first real turn-on. Finally Evie had to come up for air. "Golly," she wheezed, "It feels tingly all over."
"Inside too?"
"Yeaaaaahhhhh!"
"It'll tingle even more," he promised, "Once you learn how to take six solid inches."
"Awwww! There you go again!"
He still had his finger laying loosely lengthwise in the damp. He wiggled it just enough to remind her it was there. Evie giggled and closed her thighs over his hand. To their mutual surprise her firm, just-rounding thighs also closed over the hot throbbing hardness that stood proudly erect from his crotch. "Guy!" Evie exclaimed. "That's hot!" Jesus, did it ever feel good to lie here playing leisurely games with a willing twelve-year-old! But somewhere in the back of his mind was the nagging knowledge that it couldn't last. The phone was going to ring or somebody was going to knock or some goddamn thing was going to go wrong before he could get his cock into her. And if he missed this opportunity it was all going to turn to shit just like his thing with Charlie.
At the thought of Charlie his cock gave another leaping throb. Then he remembered that Charlie had been his substitute for this. She had laid herself out as a sacrificial lamb in gratitude for his not having... So what? It wasn't Charlie's fault, he guessed. She had been willing enough to keep their date for a morning session but... But she hadn't and little Evie had and here he was, not with a twenty-two-year-old substitute but with the real thing. Goddamn! At fifty-eleven he was finally going to get it into a twelve-year-old cunt! He'd been waiting for another chance ever since that day with old Kate.
"Whatcha thinking about?" Evie asked.
"About what a lovely little body you've got," he lied, "And what a pity it is you don't know how to use it to have some real fun."
"Tell me!"
"It's about kissing."
Enthusiastically, Evie locked her lips over his and began tonguing him again. Herb cooperated until the diminutive girl was flushed and gasping again. "Like that?" she asked.
"That's only the beginning."
"Golly, what else is there?"
Herb wiggled his finger between her pouting, almost hairless lips. He could feel the heat as little by little Evie began to learn the language of love. "That's where I'm going to kiss you next," Herb explained.
"Yuck!"
Herb made a totally spurious gesture, as if he were going to push her away. "I knew you were to little," he said sadly.
"I'm almost thirteen!" Evie insisted. "But gee-golly--people don't do things like that!"
"Are you teaching me or am I teaching you?"
"I don't believe it!"
Herb grasped her by the waist and lifted. After a marvelous moment of flying arms and legs she switched ends in mid air and lit atop him again, this time with her knees beside his ears. Herb thought a moment. It was important not to let her feel trapped. But it was also important to get a little taste of that lovely, virginal cunt. He performed another lightning maneuver and then Evie lay on her back beneath him, but end for end. "I still don't believe it!" she said, but there was a ragged tendril of fear in her voice.
Take it easy! Don't frighten her. It has to be fun for her too. You don't want to turn it into a rape, do you? There was a certain dark slice of Herb's mind that would have liked nothing better than to turn it into a rape. But rape, he knew, was only fun with willing victims. And Herb didn't want to hurt her. He wanted to be kind and patient and teach little Evie to enjoy her basic training just as much as he had enjoyed his a couple of years after that first abortive attempt with old Kate when an older woman had taken him under her wing and between her ample tits and taught him what to do with that troublesome thing between his legs. He wanted little Evie to remember him with the same fond gratitude as he remembered Mrs. McCoy.
So Herb knew immediately that he had gone too far when he flipped her end-for-end and underneath. End-for-end was fine. But underneath served only to show the little girl how completely she was in his power. Herb rolled to one side and arranged his legs so she could pillow her blonde head on his thigh. He tugged and pulled until his ear was branding a blazing imprint on the soft inner surface of her firm, just rounding thigh. Goddamn, how could such a little girl have such long, lovely legs?
They lay resting for over a minute--which doesn't seem very long until you time yourself pillowing your head on a virgin's inner thigh waiting for her to get over her funk and relax and lay her head down easily on yours. To Herb it seemed like he waited all afternoon.
Finally Evie was relaxed and quiet. "You still don't believe it?" Herb asked.
"N--no," she said unsurely.
Herb raised his head and kissed the soft sensitive skin of Evie's thigh. She quivered and for an instant goose flesh formed. Then she giggled. Herb kissed again, this time a tiny millimeter closer to home plate.
Evie giggled and closed her thighs in a delighted erotic scissors over his nose. Herb nibbled and licked and kissed until she giggled and squealed and released her grip. He drove an inch closer to home plate.
"Still don't believe it?" he asked.
"No," Evie said. "You'll tease and tickle and you'll go all around but you won't really do it. I know you."
Herb grasped her thighs, spread them wide apart. Before she could shriek or protest he got right into the damp. God, what a lovely little pussy she had. Stretched wide open this way, he could see the pink membrane of her hymen. Even her tiny cherry was perfect. Before she could complain or panic he put his lips to her pouting, nearly hairless pink labia. Her cunt was flushed and he knew he had turned her on, even if Evie still didn't understand what was happening to her inexperienced body. Was she ready?
His lips touched her sweet pussylips and his tongue drove deep, running in loving strokes over her cherry, licking that membrane into fluttery fibrillation, stopping to run in tender circles about the tiny hardness of her growing, swelling clit.
"Oooooohhhhh!" Evie shrieked. Her thighs broke from his grip, and for an instant he thought she was struggling to get away. Then her legs closed, thighs gripping his ears in an erotic scissors as her little pelvis rocked, thrust, rocked as her confused, first-time reaction confusedly struggled to make him take it out deeper. "Ooooohhhh!" she repeated, "Oooooohhhh, woweeeeee!"
Herb searched his soul and decided to stop. He didn't want her to go flopping and fluttering all the way through her first orgasm. It might be so devastating she would be through for the day. Even if she weren't, she might think she was. And he didn't want this lovely little girl scrambling into her clothes and dashing off to leave him with nothing but his stiff old cock for company. He relaxed, slowly loosening his death grip on Evie's little ass when she stopped struggling.
"Oh, wow," she sighed. "I never knew it could be like that. Golly, can we do it again?"
Herb laughed. His bet had paid off. "Do you still think I won't kiss you there?"
"Oh, golly, do it again!"
Herb took a deep breath and wondered if she was ready. Nothing venture, nothing gain, he decided. "It's you turn."
"To do what?"
"To kiss me."
"Where?" Evie asked. He felt the caution and foreboding in her voice.
"Here," he said, and darted a swift lick down her seething little slit.
Immediately Evie's legs clasped round his ears. She trembled and wiggled and strove to drive her ass into his face, to draw his face deeper into her. Herb took a deep breath and managed to control himself. He stopped licking.
"More!" Evie wailed. "Suck me some more. Don't stop now."
"I have to," Herb lied. "It's your turn."
"Awww!"
"It doesn't work unless we do it together."
"If I do it will you do it again?"
"Cross my heart," Herb said.
He felt the little girl's warm breath on his cock.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
It was a frozen moment in eternity as Herb waited with his tongue at ready, waiting to see if little Evie would take the plunge and plunge her mouth down over his waiting wand. He thought momentarily of Mrs. Klohn's frantic efforts, comparing her deep-throated gobbling with the devastating effect of little Evie's warm breath on his tool. Goddamn!
He waited. How long had he been waiting? It seemed as if he had been poised for hours with his head between her long, just rounding legs, yearning to go back to his licking, his kissing and sucking, but knowing if he was ever to train the girl properly, now was when he had to control himself.
Did he dare give her just one little lick to remind her of all that she was missing? He remembered the way his first treatment had driven her right up the wall of a chasm or orgasm. One little lick might be just enough to set her off again, leave her inexperienced body raddled and satiated. And where would that leave him? Decisions, decisions!
He could feel Evie's warm breath on his tool, knew she was studying it, burning its size and shape into her memory. She was sitting on the end of the diving board, envious of all the fun but afraid to plunge. What could he do to encourage her? He didn't want to grab her and stuff it in her mouth. She had to be led to it gradually. She had to always believe that any decision had been hers.
He knew he couldn't even caress the back of her neck and subtly guide her mouth closer and closer to his magic wand. But goddamit, the girl had to learn someday! What kind of empty, colorless life would the poor girl lead if she didn't learn how to suck a cock properly? Herb knew that if he was to have this girl's virginity he owed her something in return.
He was tempted to forget it, to flop her over and stuff his cock up her virginal little cunt and end it all. But that would be gross. He gritted his teeth and determined to endure and wait her out. Which did not mean that he could not devise a few little ways to keep her interest aroused, to renew the memory of that fine flash of eroticism he had given her, to convince her that life could and would be unbearably dull until she learned to give as well as to receive. He took a deep breath and brought his pursed lips to within a millimeter of her tiny held-open pussy. Aiming straight at the taut-stretched membrane of her maidenhead, he began very gently to blow.
Evie's ass quivered. He felt a sudden uncontrollable tremor pass through her whole eighty pounds as she struggled not to succumb to his inducements. Then suddenly her warm breath was coming harder on the head of his cock and he knew she was returning the compliment.
It felt nice. But it was not what he was trying to teach this luscious little girl to do. He waited. She waited. After a moment of frozen expectation, she blew once more on the head of his cock. His foreskin was stretched taut from the magnificent swell of his erection, but it was still in place. That was another hurdle he would have to get her across--all the oohing and aahing and marveling when she discovered for the first time that his prepuce was not immutable. But maybe he could have it inside her by then. Revelations and explanations could come later--if only the phone would not ring and the door not vibrate until late enough. Then he remembered he had taken the phone off the hook.
While he had been daydreaming and worrying Evie had lay quiescent, head pillowed on his thigh, eyes fixed on the full-blown erection that filled her field of vision. Maybe it would have been better to try it in the dark. But Herb knew nine-tenths of his pleasure came from seeing the taut little twelve-year-old body he was playing with. And for Evie, who had never seen a full-fledged phallus before, to futz around in the dark would be intolerable. But what was he going to do to get her down off that diving board? How could he get her to make the plunge so they could both pad happily about in passion's pool? He had to get his cock into her mouth somehow.
Maybe he ought to start licking her again. If he went at it right, within thirty seconds he could have her giggling and moaning and flopping about like a freshly gaffed salmon. And surely there would be an opportunity to stuff it into her childishly soft mouth...
But that would be cheating. He would get it in but she might be so overcome with revulsion that they could never achieve a felicitous connection again. What was he going to do? His cock was throbbing with an aching need he had not felt for twenty years. Jesus, it was as if he was some callow teenager struggling to get his first piece. He could not remember when his crotch had ached and throbbed and yearned so hotly for fulfilment. He had to do something or soon he would come right in the air, fire his joyous load right into little Evie's inexperienced face. And wouldn't that be a kick in the ass!
"Do it again," Evie urged.
"I can't," Herb said. "Not until you do your thing first."
"Awww!"
Creating a careful blend of fact and fiction, Herb explained to the little girl that men have needs, too, that to frustrate these needs for too long could lead to aches and pains that left a man totally incapable of doing anything to relieve the urges and itches of the little girls whose thighs were clasped tightly around a man's ears. Embroidering on a basic theme, he explained that in the long run a little girl could be even more of a loser through contributory negligence than her partner--that if Evie didn't get his cock into her mouth soon so he could get his tongue into her pussy that all the nice , feelings would turn into pains even more intense than the pleasures she had so fleetingly tasted and that they would soon both be writhing in uncontrollable agony. Stricken with sudden intuition and inspiration, he added, "And you'll be screaming so loud your mother and Aunt Charlie will hear and when they find out what you've been up to your mother'll have you off to Miami stuck in some old hotel and you'll never get to see me or Aunt Charlie again--especially me!"
"But you pee through it," she protested in a crushed little voice.
"So do you," Herb said. "But you're a nice clean little girl and you understand the virtues of soap and water and I just took a real careful bath, too. Just for you," he lied. Remembering eight hours ago with Charlie his cock gave an extra surge.
He felt her warm breath again. This time she wasn't blowing on him. A moment later she actually managed to touch the tight stretched tip of his tool with her lips, pursing them tightly to kiss his fluttery foreskin. "It's wet,." she complained.
"Of course it's wet. So's the inside of your mouth but that doesn't stop you from kissing, does it?"
Another sterile moment passed and Herb wondered if she would ever master the courage of her convections. Christ! He could spend the rest of his life waiting for her to get down to business. Maybe he ought to just forget about this and turn her over and stuff his muffin-stabber into that tight little twat, tear her maidenhead loose and say, "Congratulations! Today you are a woman."
"Look," he said. "If it'll make you any happier, we can both go take a bath together, but it won't really change anything. Would you use soap in your mouth every time you kiss? You had a shower to get the chlorine off after you came out of the pool and I can tell you spread your legs and washed out nice and clean down here. And I took a bath later than you--not over a half hour ago, so we're both clean and ready." He paused and gathered breath. "Now if you want to learn about screwing we'd better start doing something. And if you've decided you're too little and too chicken and you want to change your mind, let me know right now so I can phone the hospital and they can send over a couple of ambulances and your mother and aunt can both watch while they haul us off and I go to the hospital and you go to juvie with handcuffs and the whole--" Abruptly Herb felt a tiny mouth descent warmly around the head of his cock. Jesus, did it ever feel good! He lay rigid, struggling to contain his load while the joy of this simple contact surged through him like a pink flood of passion. After forty-nine years, he was finally getting into old Kate! It had taken him nearly a half century but he was finally correcting the errors he had made when he was twelve, when Kate was twelve, when she hadn't clearly understood exactly how to do it and he had known even less. Goddam! he exulted. After half a century he was finally getting that old cobwebby ghost out of the back of his mind! Involuntarily, his pelvis gave a tiny thrust, driving his dong a millimeter deeper into Evie's snug little mouth. She mumbled something.
He couldn't understand. "What?"
"You won't send me to juvie?" There were tears on her face.
"Of course not!" Herb comforted. He pulled her around and kissed her, patting her narrow shoulders until she was reassured. Suddenly Evie's eyes lit up and she kissed him again. "Golly," she marveled. "You don't think it's dirty!"
While Herb was working that one out the little girl abruptly switched positions and dived into his crotch again. This time she began gobbling his knob without hesitation.
For an uninformed little girl she was doing an amazingly good job of it, sucking, licking, squeezing her lips over the roundness of his glans penis. The only trouble was she had not gotten his foreskin down out of the way. Herb wondered if he ought to interrupt and show her what to do. To hell with it. She had finally gotten off the dime. There would be time later to instruct her in the fine points of a blow job. Besides, the sight of that twelve-year-old dedicating heart, soul and body to his crotch was enough to threaten instant disaster if he didn't get control of his hot raging hammer.
"Mmmmmm!" she managed. It wasn't a murmur of unconfined joy. Abruptly Herb knew what she wanted--what she needed. He grasped her by the waist and swung back in position atop the bed. Goddamn, what a lovely tight little ass she had! He wondered if it could be called muff-diving when her muff consisted of a few straggly hairs and a fine crop of fuzz.
But a rose by any other name... He got his nose back into her virginal twat, savored the hot clean smell of virgin pussy. He spread her seemingly endless legs wide and began licking the thrumming, tight-stretched membrane that separates girls from women. He was going to have to do something about that maidenhead. But not now--not while she was enthusiastically bobbing her head up and down his growing hard-on.
Jesus, what lovely feeling to have a twelve-year-old virgin doing her willing best to give him a blow job! He licked her smooth, almost hairless little snatch, running his tongue down her secret slit, stopping to kiss the full, throbbing pussylips, running tongue over their outer surfaces to taste and feel the smoothness so different from the hairy jungle that had surrounded every other pussy he had ever licked--except one. But this time he was not going to make that mistake again. No way! Not after he had waited nearly forty-nine years!
It was incredible that a man being blown, kissed and sucked by a twelve-year-old virgin could not keep his mind on what was happening but... damn it, there he went again. He kissed her tiny twat, caressed her firm, just-starting jugs, did his honest best to keep a little girl happy but his mind kept wandering back nearly a half century to the first time he had spent an afternoon alone and undressed with a twelve-year-old girl.
Old Kate had tired of playing Parcheesi that afternoon when she and twelve-year-old Herb had spent an afternoon alone in her house while his and Katie's parents were off on some inexplicable errand that had something to do with making a living during the depression. She had led him up into her attic bedroom. They had sat cross legged on the throw rug next to her narrow bed and tossed dice to see who would take off the next article of clothing. And Kate had cheated unmercifully, even though Herb had forced her to make her own rules before he started this silly game.
For fifty years the dream memory of that occasion had been a tic. For the first thirty he had never gotten beyond that moment when the hazards of the dice had left him minus his pants but wearing everything else, including shoes and undershorts, while old Kate squatted before him clad only in gingham panties and middy blouse--all else having been forfeited one piece at a time. For half a century he had thrown and won, and she had been about to take off either middy blouse or panties and either way--either way he had invariably woken up for thirty years afterward with the solution to all of life's problems in his hand--and usually all over the sheets.
The trouble with dreams was that they were usually even kinkier and more frustrating than real life. Life had been bad enough without complicating it with dreams. He remembered to his eternal mortification what had come afterward. Even now...
Suddenly he realized that even now--it didn't mean a damn thing! Little Evie was down there gobbling him and it felt good and the ghost was laid and now he was going to lay little Evie and...
But, that afternoon when he had been twelve and old Kate had been twelve and a half, the stakes had been different. He had tossed and won. If she was not going to welch again and go changing the rules in the middle of the game, she had to take off either the gingham panties or the middy blouse. There was a moment of tense expectation as they faced each other cross-legged on the small throw rug at one edge of her bed. Clearly, Kate had not expected the dice to betray her.
Herb was too tense to speak. It wasn't going to happen. Goldang it, he just knew old Kate would never do it. No girl would ever do anything a boy really wanted to do. Sure as heck she was going to drop the whole thing and want him to play dolls or some such foolishness.
Then his eyes widened as he saw her reach down and peel off the middy blouse with one smooth motion. Gollee!
A middy blouse, for those readers who have yet to attain the status of dirty old man emeritus, is a paradoxical garment in that it is all-concealing and one of the quickest female garments of earth to remove. The large square neck permitted Kate to whip it off in one fluid motion without even disturbing her long blonde hair.
She squatted cross-legged across from Herb, clad only in loose-fitting gingham panties. Herb's eyes were drawn like magnets to the tiny, just rounding bulges behind old Kate's virginal pink nipples. He could not understand why the sight of two small bulges on a girl's chest could be so strangely exciting, but when a guy is twelve and looking at his first pair of undraped tits, his mind does not, generally speaking, trend toward an analytical bent.
Mostly, Herb was thinking of how his untried, still nearly hairless cock was swelling and threatening to escape the confines of his underpants. Gol-lee! He still couldn't believe it! Old Kate had been tripped up by her own game. One more lucky throw of the dice and she would be naked! Gee whiz!
"You gonna throw?" she asked.
Suddenly Herb's mind descended from the soaring heights of wild surmise and he returned to earth, to an attic bedroom where one more roll of the dice would reveal a vista more fascinating than any old Balboa could ever manage from a treetop in Panama. He grabbed the leather cup, shook it, threw, and seconds later was taking his shoe off. He threw again and took off his other show. He threw again and lost a sock. Again, and he was barefoot.
Grimly, Herb realized that his luck had changed. Kate sat pristine and aloof in her loose fitting gingham panties, flaunting her bare chest at him as if this sort of thing went on every day. And Herb was losing, already down to shirt, undershirt, and--his drawers. He knew goldang well he was going to lose three more times, was going to naked and old Kate would still sit here smiling secure behind her loose-fitting gingham panties. Oh, well... at least he had gotten a look at her bare chest. "Can I touch 'em?" he asked.
Kate gave him the serene smile of a Christian with four aces. "After somebody's got everything off," she reminded. "Then the winner gets to tickle." She took the leather cup and threw a two. Her smile became less Christian.
Herb tossed and also threw a two.
Kate tossed a three.
Herb tossed a seven. He sat back and waited for Kate to take off her loose-fitting gingham panties. She wasn't going to do it. He knew goldang well she would never shed the final bulwark of her superiority, though he couldn't manage the concept in exactly those words.
But Kate straightened out her legs and--she did it!
This ain't happenin', Herb knew. It was just another of those dreams he'd been having lately, the kind that left him with sticky pyjamas and mixed feelings of relief and disappointment. Any minute now he would be suddenly wide awake with that little flurry in his crotch and then he would have to get up and go to the bathroom and try to clean up without waking Maw and Paw.
Kate had half turned so that he could not find out for sure if it was true about girls growing hair around there, too. But he had to admit she had played fair and square. She was really naked--without a stitch!
She arranged her legs carefully and draped one artfully artless hand so that she might as well still be in loose-fitting gingham panties before she turned back to face Herb. With a strange fixed smile that years later he would recognize on a bodhissatva, she held out her hand for the dice cup.
She threw snake eyes again.
Herb tossed a three. Since neither child knew the first thing about craps there was agreement that Herb had won. "Take your hand away," he said. "I get to tickle."
"No," old Kate said firmly.
"You said."
"I changed my mind," she said with imperturbable feminine aplomb.
He had known she was going to. The only miracle was that she hadn't done it before now. He held out the cup and she reached. He pulled it back and Kate grabbed for it with both hands. He let her capture it. Kate held the dice cup for several seconds before she realized that for once she had been outsmarted. Herb was memorizing the fleshy protrusion of her mons veneris, taking mental notes of the way the smooth, just-hairing triangle blended into belly and thighs. He struggled to memorize every detail before she would realize how he had-- Suddenly he realized Kate was looking at him as he looked at her. She wasn't even trying to cover up. "You can tickle," she said. "But I lost, anyway. I lost fair and square, so why play any more?"
"You promised I could tickle you."
"We can both do it," old Kate said. "Only don't waste any more time with games."
"I don't get it," Herb said, convinced that he never would.
"You will. Just take all yours off, too, and then we can wrestle."
"No kidding?"
"No kidding."
"Cross your heart?"
There was just the faintest hint of impatience as Kate drew a cross over one of those interesting bulges that punctuated her chest. Still doubtful, Herb began unbuttoning his shirt.
"Want me to help?" Kate asked.
"I know how to undress," Herb said loftily.
Kate shrugged and waited, cross-legged and clad only in her yellow hair ribbon and a bodhissatva smile. Finally Herb was as naked as Kate. He didn't even have a yellow ribbon. "Ready or not, here I come," he threatened.
Kate seemed to be thoroughly ready. She put out her arms and their hands gripped, arms waving like drunken polka dancers as they matched strength. Herb fainted, relaxed suddenly, and then, while their hands still gripped, he had his cheek against one tiny, just developing tit. He twisted around and managed to memorize it with nose and lips. Suddenly old Kate's hands left his. Her arms went round his neck and drew him in closer to her bare bosom.
Herb felt his whole body blush flaming scarlet, but he didn't pull away. Who could say if he would ever live long enough to get another opportunity like this? She was dragging him to his feet and a moment later he realized they were settling down atop the coverlet of her narrow, virginal bed. Kate was falling down face up, letting him land on top, inexplicably giving him the advantage. Then he felt long slim legs close round him in a scissors.
She squeezed and he strained to break her hold. Finally he was out of breath "Give up?" she asked.
Herb nodded.
Immediately those long, smooth-turned thighs relaxed their grip. He half fell away from her. Kate straightened and looked down on him. Suddenly he felt her hand. She was holding him there!
And this was the point where his dream-memory always managed to end in blurting, spurting disaster for the next fifteen years after he had grown old enough to get past the middy blouse. Herb realized suddenly that this time he was involved in some other sort of waking dream. He was throbbing, his cock ready to explode from remembered excitement--then he realized his cock had other troubles: his cock was in little Evie's mouth. She was doing her blundering best while he pillowed one flaming ear on her smooth slim thigh and licked her lovely little slit.
Jesus, what a lovely firm little body! And now he was old enough to know what to do with it--not like that first twelve-year-old body when neither he nor old Kate had really known their virginal asses from a pair of holes in the ground.
This is real, old man, he told himself. Pay attention to your fucking and stop all this daydreaming. There'll be plenty of time for memories when you're dribbling your latter end away in some rest home. This is real; it's only twelve years old; it's got a lovely shape, a clear skin; it's a girl--and it's licking your cock! And you'd better get with it, old man. You don't get a chance like this every day, and if anybody ever finds out, you'll never get a chance at anything but a San Quentin queen for the rest of your natural life.
Jesus, in about half a second I'm going to come right down that little twelve-year-old throat and won't that be a kick in the ass! She'll get sick and disgusted, and I'll never be able to finish her education. Shit! I've got to stop this right now before I explode and ruin it all. She's learned how to blow me. Let it go for now. She can learn how to swallow come some other day.
He gave her cunt a final lick, pursed his lips to give a bronx cheer whose raucous vibration had been known to coax orgasms from marble statues. Quickly, before the little girl could return the compliment he grasped her thighs and rotated eighty pounds of hot, throbbing, virgin nymphet. They lay facing one another, Evie flushed and panting. "Did I do it right?" she asked. "Are we through already?"
"Yes," Herb answered, "and no. More specifically, you didn't do it exactly right, but your efforts were commendable in the light of your experience. And no, we're not through."
"What does that mean?"
Herb drew her to him and kissed her. He shot a tongue in to touch little Evie's and she reacted with a tremor of uncontrollable joy. Her flat, hard little belly ground against him and he could feel the bony prominence of her just hairing mons veneris dig into him. Her slim, shapely thighs closed tightly over the throbbing head of his cock. He drew a deep shuddering breath, held it for half an eternity, then released it with a ragged sigh. "Yes, sweetheart," he wheezed, "You're doing very well."
"What'd I do wrong?" Evie insisted.
"Well, next time you might try holding your mouth not quite so tight and just letting your lips slide up and down. The part where it feels the nicest isn't way down in the underbrush. It's right on the tip."
Evie was diving down to give it another try when he managed to catch her and draw her back up to face him. "Next time," he reassured her. "We're going to try something different now."
"Oh?" Evie's blue eyes opened wide. "What?"
"This time," Herb said, "We're going to screw. To be more exact, we're going to fuck."
"Well golly!" Evie exclaimed, "What've we been doing?"
"That was a blow job," Herb explained. "Did you like it?"
"Couldn't we do it some more?"
"Tomorrow. It you can manage to keep your lovely little mouth shut and stay out of juvie until then." And keep me out of jail, he mentally added.
"I promise," Evie said. "How do you screw?"
"Don't you know?"
"I thought I did," she said. "But I guess I didn't know as much as I thought."
Remembering his first time with old Kate--and the next time a couple of years later with a somewhat more experienced Mrs. McCoy, Herb squeezed and patted her and assured her that she was a very talented little girl and that she was learning faster than any other little girl he had ever taught. Which was true, considering that the last time he had gotten this close to a twelve-and-a-half-year-old girl was when he had been twelve and three weeks.
Herb wondered if he ought to just stuff it into her or if it would be less frightening to explain what fucking was all about. Little girls--especially little girls who went to modem schools weren't half so innocent as they had been forty nine years ago. But, he supposed, little girls were never one half so innocent as the little boys they led around by the nose.
"I'm going to put that thing inside you," he said.
"Awwww!" But this time little Evie wasn't so vehement. She was far more inclined now to believe that he could get that great thumping thing into her. Studying her trim little ass Herb wished he was all that sure he was going to get it in.
There were so many things could go wrong. He knew his useless old body would not be above treating him to a wilted wand now that, after forty nine years, he was about to remedy the gap in his early education. He had never managed to get it all the way into old Kate. Would he ever get it into little Evie?
He grasped her slender waist and began to position her, on her back, knees apart and flexed, her taut little pussy turned upward and ready to receive him as he knelt between her thighs in classic missionary position. Evie looked up at him with trusting blue eyes. "Is it going to hurt very much?" she asked.
Herb rested his weight on his elbows and feasted his eyes on her slight little body, trying to control the anticipatory flutter in his aching crotch. Forty-nine years he'd been waiting to find himself in this position! He guessed he could wait another minute. He bent low to kiss Evie. They swapped tongues for a joyous moment, then she broke away to breathe. "Will it hurt?" she asked.
"It's hard to say."
"Awww!"
"I could lie to you," he said. "But I'd rather tell you the truth. Some girls don't hurt at all. Others are so tight a man can't even get in at all."
"Golly, what am I?"
"That's what we're going to find out," Herb said. He began kissing her, darting rapidly from one tiny tit to the other as he attempted to divert her attention from his cock. It was silly, he knew. Was there anything on earth that could make him think about something else while he was sliding the tip of his cock up and down the slender slit of her tiny hairless twat, working the single drop of clear beginning to flow from her virginal cunt? As well force himself not to think about pink giraffes! "I won't surprise you with anything quick," he promised. "We can do it nice and slow, and any time it hurts more than you can bear, just say so and I'll stop." He positioned the tip of his throbbing, raging hard-on over the membrane that covered the entrance to her vagina, trying to force the tip into the tiny opening at the edge. Slow as an hour hand, he began pushing.
"Stop!"
"But I haven't started yet," he protested.
"It HURTS. Oh, please stop!"
"I'm not even moving," he reassured her.
But he was. If Herb had learned anything in the forty nine years since he had first seen a virgin pussy, he had learned something about the ancient and honorable art of rupturing a cherry without rupturing himself or its owner. He held his cock in her tender slit, not for one instant relaxing the steady pressure against the delicate hymeneal curtain that kept him from hitherto unexplored territory up her slender, never-traversed vagina.
There had always been two schools of thought, just as there have always been two ways of removing adhesive bandages: the long slow agony or the quick shriek. But Herb felt that, all factors considered, the long slow agony was best. He had promised no surprises. Sometimes--rarely, but it did happen, the quick thrust turned into more than a shriek. There were girls so tough that only a quick and painless slash with the surgeon's scalpel could end their maidenhood.
He kept his cock pressing gently but steadily against the drumtight membrane that separated him from the tunnel of love, petting her, patting her, kissing her, mumbling reassurances and telling her with hypnotic regularity that he was not pushing, that he was not hurting her, that he was doing nothing and that they could both take a little rest and after a while he would find some different way to do it.
And, wish being stronger than wisdom, little Evie believed him. She gave a tremulous smile and responded when his tongue once more invaded her mouth. He caressed her tiny tits and was rewarded by the sight of their tiny pink nipples turning rock hard beneath his gentle fingers. And he kept pressing at her maidenhead with his cock, not faltering, not letting up on the pressure for the slightest of instants.
There was the faintest yielding sensation and he realized Evie was not going to be a difficult child. His soft talking and misdirection were serving their purpose. As he kissed her and played with her lovely little tits and ran his hands over her flanks and dug a tickling finger into her navel Evie giggled and momentarily forgot that tearing pressure. Her minuscule cunt relaxed slightly and the steady unrelenting pressure of his cock did what had to be done.
The only real problem, Herb realized, was his overactive imagination. He had been waiting forty nine years to do this. Ruefully, he remembered how he had struggled to come down Mrs. Klohn's throat--how the best efforts of forty-year-old, forty-inch, braless Mrs. Klohn of the smooth belly and unwrinkled body had come to naught. Now he had a different problem. He didn't have it in little Evie. But Jesus, did it ever feel good!
It felt so good that he knew if he ever relaxed for one second--if he were to change in the slightest the steady pressure-pain on the tip of his cock... He prayed little Evie would hold still. The slightest wriggle form that delectable little body displayed beneath him and Herb knew he would explode, fire his load all over her unbroken maidenhead and his hard-on would collapse in ignominious defeat, and little Evie would go two doors down the hall still a virgin, still with everything she had possessed when she entered this apartment, and with Herb's lousy luck the stars would combine to ensure that even if the little girl spent all summer here, never ever, no possible way would he ever get another chance to dunk his eager cock in her untried tunnel of love.
It was enough to make him want to bang his head against the wall and scream. Instead, he gritted his teeth and tried to remember his multiplication table. No use. Who the fuck could concentrate on multiplication tables when he had a twelve-year-old virgin wrapped around the barest tip of his tool, a little girl gasping with the effort to relax and take his trumpeting masculinity into her tiny, almost hairless cunt?
He released a long held breath, suddenly aware that he had been holding it with the effort not to come. Evie had been holding her breath, too, sensing some inner crisis apart from the stinging burning in her crotch. As she released her breath Herb felt her tiny pussy relax slightly and the tip of his tool dug another millimeter in her tight, untried pussy.
Evie gasped. "It hurts," she complained. "Can't you stop it for a minute?"
"Sure, sweetheart," Herb comforted. "Anything you say." He moved slightly from side to side and somehow managed to work it in a little more while making her think he was easing it out. Suddenly he realized just how far it was in. One quick lunge now would make it. But it might also elicit a glass-shattering scream that could open every door in this building. He took a deep breath, gritted his teeth with the effort not to fire his load into the warm delicious pressure that warmed the tip of his tool. "Feel better now?" he asked solicitously.
"It still hurts," Evie whined.
"That's funny. I can't imagine why. I'm not pushing." He had it in more them halfway now. If his calculations and feelings were right, he could drive it up to the hilt now without hurting her any more than she was stinging right now. He felt a sudden warm flow of liquid and knew she was bleeding. That was good. Little Evie s ordeal was nearly over. Soon now she would have survived her first fuck and could proudly call herself a woman. Not too proudly, he hoped. Not unless he wanted to spend the rest of his days poking San Quentin queens.
If only he could manage to resist the overpowering desire to drive it home, to get in at least a couple of strokes, ramslam his throbbing old hard-on in and out of her tiny tight vagina a couple of times before he exploded in blurting, hurting, spurting defeat. He gritted his teeth and tried to hold steady, to keep up the gentle relentless pressure that was turning a little girl into a woman.
"Oh golly, it feels funny!" Evie said in a strained voice.
"How does it feel?"
"Like everything's coming loose inside me. It's just like the first time you kissed me down there, only lots worse."
"Does it feel good?"
Evie hesitated. "I guess it does," she said uncertainly.
Herb tried to concentrate on holding that steady pressure .
"Ooooohhh, golly!" Evie exclaimed. Then Herb felt her tiny twat's position change. Suddenly the terrible painful pressure was no longer there. Like a long, smooth, slick, tight glove, little Evie's cunt was sliding slowly up his cock. "Ooooohhh!" she said. "That feels funny!"
Herb guessed the little girl had said the definitive word on the subject. It felt so funny he wanted to laugh right out loud. Suddenly Evie was giggling. "I never believed it," she admitted. "I thought you were putting me on. I never thought that great big thing would ever go inside me.
They rested, Herb's weight supported on his elbows as his cock lay at ease inside the tight tube of her just-opened vagina. He had it well over halfway in. He wondered how deep he dared drive it into this little girl. There was no way to predict. Herb had never considered himself particularly well endowed. He had six solid inches of uncircumcised cock. The head tapered to a slight point which helped him to penetrate a really tight pussy. He had learned quite young in life that performance did not depend on size or shape. It wasn't how much cock a man had. It all depended on how he used it.
At the moment he wasn't using it at all. It lay snugly inside little Evie, at least two-thirds of the way in. After the ordeal of that long steady pressure he was as tired as the girl. They deserved a rest, he guessed.
"Is that all?" Evie asked.
"Not exactly," Herb explained. "But now that I've got it in, we can start fucking whenever you're ready."
"Golly!" Evie marvelled, "You mean there's still something else?"
"You'd better believe it," Herb said with a chuckle. He caressed her tiny tits and kissed loving circles around them, licked her nipples and moved lazily upward to swap tongues with the luscious little twelve-year-old blonde nymphet.
"Mmmmmmm!" Evie said.
This, Herb decided, was sufficient indication that he had not longcocked her yet. He continued pushing, savoring the smooth tightness of her tiny vagina. Jesus! He remembered the undiluted joy of his last session with Charlie. The untried cunt was even tighter. It felt so good he knew he was going to come--going to explode right now before he could even get it all the way in on his first stroke. He gasped, strained, gritted his teeth and struggled not to come.
At last, after forty-nine years, he was finally finished with old Kate. At last he was fucking a twelve-year-old girl-child. If he could just keep from coming for another ten seconds. He wondered if he shouldn't just relax and let fly. She was so tiny and tight that a load of hot man-cum wouldn't leave her loose and sloppy like some older woman. It might serve to relieve the terrible tightness and friction that threatened to drive him out of his skull with the joy that passeth all human understanding. And little Evie would never know the difference.
But... Herb would. At his age a man was supposed to have staying power. A man wasn't supposed to have a hair-trigger cock like some inept teenager who would come all over a centerfold before he could even get his hand on his cock. And most importantly, a man of Herb's age had goddamn well better have staying power because he could no longer manage the steady stream of orgasms which had caused some hair-trigger teenagers to be compared to a spastic fire hose. If Herb came, that was the name of the game for hours--perhaps days.
He had already come twice in the last twenty-four hours. No, he amended. Once. Mrs. Klohn of the forty-inch tits and deep throat hadn't managed to coax from him the load that had finally ended up in Charlie's hot pussy. That had been eight--maybe ten hours ago. Looking down at little Evie spread below him, her tiny cunt stretched round his throbbing cock, Herb knew he could come again right now. But could he manage it three times?
Perhaps. But he would be straining himself, inviting heart attack and disaster. Besides, for an old man it would--it would almost be unprofessional conduct. He had managed a blow job by Mrs. Klohn without dumping his load. He had managed to fill lovely blonde Charlie with piece everlasting. If he couldn't control himself and give little Evie a proper run on her maiden voyage into womanhood he might as well hang up his french tickler.
With his cock planted two-thirds of the way into Evie's garden of delights he waxed philosophical--even charitable about poor Mrs. Klohn. If she came back to demand a final ceremony in the rites of love he resolved to be ready. Once he was through with little Evie he was going downtown to buy a rubber sheath with enough spikes around its tip to reduce Mrs. Klohn to a puddle of passionate satiation. It would be his good deed of the week.
"What do we do next?"
Son of a bitch! For an instant he had completely forgotten that he had a little girl's tight pussy round his cock. He gave silent thanks for an old man's wandering mind. His hair-trigger hard-on had subsided and now he knew that with any luck at all he could go the distance with little Evie. "Well," he said, "First we try to get it all the way in."
"Golly!" Evie marveled. "There's more yet?"
"Miles and miles," Herb lied.
"Are you going to put it all the way in? Golly, I'm so full now it feels like it's going to come out of my mouth."
"Doesn't it feel good?"
Evie frowned and thought this over for a moment. "It feels tight," she said, "Like just before I have to go to the bathroom. I guess it feels all right. But, golly, how much more IS there?" Herb got his hands on her ass and began pushing.
CHAPTER TWELVE
"Oooooohhh!" Evie said. "That feels funny."
"Good funny or bad funny?"
"Both. How much more is it going in?"
Herb continued his slow steady pushing. He had less than an inch to go now. He wondered if he could make it all the way into this tiny girl before she winced and began to complain. Slowly, slower than an hour hand, he continued his steady push, giving her tiny cunt time to lubricate the shaft of his cock so it wouldn't pucker and wrap round him and hurt her.
Her virginal pussy was doing an admirable job, sliding slowly up the shaft of his spear without sticking or puckering. But it was so tiny, stretched so tight that her tiny clit was stretched out of recognition, a tiny flattened bulge of the ring of tight stretched tissue that surrounded the shank of his cock. He eased a gentle hand between their crowding bellies and managed to touch her tight stretched clit with the tip of his finger.
"Oh, WOW!" Evie exploded. Her tiny ass rose to meet him and his hand was trapped between their straining bodies. He managed to get it out, giving her a tickle here and there on the way, and then they were locked together, his cock bottomed out in the cunt of the little twelve-year-old who pressed and strained, raising her ass to meet him, struggling for the last millimeter of penetration. Her long, smooth-tapered thighs clapped around his waist. She locked her ankles behind his back in an erotic scissors.
They held, locked together in a frozen moment of ecstasy. Then, still holding in his breath, concentrating on the sheer physical pleasure of that tight pussy sliding down his cock, squeezing, milking, rubbing his throbbing cockhead nearly to the point of no return, he pulled slowly out, out until the tip of his cock was barely touching the flushed, hairless lips of Evie's eager cunt.
"Do it again!" she urged.
Herb managed not to laugh "I'll make an exception," he said. "Just for you I'll do it again." He began pushing his cock back into her. It was, he managed to remind himself, still only the second fuck stroke in her inexperienced life, and she was still a little dry. He pushed slowly, steadily, felt his cock slide down that tight little tunnel, and was rewarded by a sudden spurt of lubrication from somewhere inside Evie's flat little belly. "Golly!" she marveled.
"Golly what?"
"Golly gee, thanks!" she gushed. "Let's do it some more."
"I don't know whether I ought to," Herb said cagily.
"Why not?" Evie was starting to cloud up.
"I don't know whether you can keep a secret."
"Like what?"
"Like this," he explained. "I know you like it but what do you suppose would happen if your mother or Aunt Charlie--or anybody else found out you're doing something you're not supposed to do till you're much older?"
"I won't tell anybody," Evie promised. "Let's do it some more."
"Maybe not," Herb said. "But you'll smile every time you look at me and you'll always be hanging around to talk when I'm out gardening or something, and sooner or later you'll forget and say something. And the first time anybody even suspects, you'll be off to juvie or to Miami, and either way you'll never see me and you'll never get to do this again."
"Golly!" Evie worried. "What can I do?"
Herb considered. "The best thing you can do is not like me very much," he decided. "You don't have to go out of your way about it, but if Mrs. Klohn or anybody else starts asking questions you'd better tell them I'm a grouchy old man and you don't like me because I keep making you stop playing here and there. " Evie's eyes lit up in comprehension and joyous conspiracy. "Gotcha!" she said. "Now can we fuck some more?"
"Always happy to oblige a lady," Herb said gallantly. He devoted ten seconds to uninterrupted thrusting, deep, full strokes, hesitating at the bottom of each for a moment to savor the tight fullness of her little twat, then pulling Out, hesitating with his cock barely inside her for a feinting, soul-stirring second before once more beginning his long slow plunge back into loveland.
"OOOOHHHH! " Evie exploded. "It feels so goooood!"
Herb was inclined to agree. Her tiny belly fit so snugly around his supersensitized hard-on that he could feel every tensing of muscle, every tremor. He recognized the sudden access of fluttery trembling that filled her. Suddenly Evie's ass rose skyward to meet his plunge. Her legs went round his waist and locked again. Her arms went round his neck and she was hanging on for dear life, rocking and plunging, doing her eager and inexperienced best to ride out the storm of life.
"Aaaaaaahhhh!" she managed as her whole body went limp and settled back on the bed. "AAAAAHHHH, WOW! What happened? Did I do something wrong?"
"You did something very right," Herb said. "That's called coming."
"Coming where?"
"Nowhere. You just came."
"Oh!" Evie said. Her face grew thoughtful and then lit in sudden comprehension. "I read it in one of Aunt Charlie's magazines," she said. "Is that the same as orgasm?" She pronounced orgasm as if the word had a 'j', reminding Herb of the days when jazz had meant something more interesting than music.
He managed not to smile. "Anybody can come," he explained. "You have to go to college and learn Greek to have an orgasm."
"But didn't I just have one?"
"Of course you did, sweetheart." He kissed her and squeezed her and began sliding his cock once more in and out, in and out, striving once more to do his humble best for the little girl's education.
Evie's eyes lit up with holy joy. "Golly!" she exulted, "I think I'm going to do it again! "
"And I think I've just found me a twelve-year-old nympho," Herb murmured. He poured it to her unsparingly, his cock no longer hair-trigger now that Evie had lubricated the tightness of her tiny snatch with the juices of her first come.
But it was still so tight Herb could hardly believe it. Goddamn! he thought. How did I get through my whole life without ever getting into anything this good?
Herb had lived long enough to realize that the pursuit is often more enjoyable than the conquest, that after nearly half a century he had to admit that one cunt was rather like another. The women who possessed them were different, though. Some were young, some old. Some were fat, some thin. Some bestowed their favors liberally to any man enterprising enough to ask. Others wrapped themselves in a library, or a nun's robes, and saved their virginal pussies for that great Librarian in the Sky.
But old men would never have achieved their legendary staying power if they did not know that a cunt is a cunt is a cunt. Fucking was fun but anybody could find something to fuck--albeit his own fist. The part that made fucking fun, turned it into a pursuit and the will-she-or-won't-she uncertainty that turned pussy chasing into the greatest and most thrilling of all the games of chance.
But... this was the first time in his cuntfilled life that Herb had ever dunked his veteran love muscle in a pussy this young, this tight, this willing and eager to please. As little Evie might have put it--golly!
It was as if he were plugged into some kind of electrical connection. Any other woman he had ever serviced would, after her first couple of orgasms, (And Evie, he remembered, had come once already when he was licking her still virginal pussy) any other woman would be slowing down, still willing to fuck but ready to go at it more leisurely and explore all the kinky little nuances that can add joy to the occasion when a man and a woman are not engaged in a frantic race for the orgiastic sweepstakes.
Little Evie, after a ten second pause, was rising once more to meet his thrust as eagerly as if she had not just come. He wondered if the vital plug and socket connection between them could be tapped in some way to drain some of that surplus twelve-year-old bounce into his aging body.
He had already done it, he guessed. Since he'd gotten his cock into little Evie Herb felt younger, stronger, more alive than he could remember since-- Jesus! And only last night Mrs. Klohn had done her forty-year-old best to suck a little life out of his aging balls! If only she could see him now!
The thought of Mrs. Klohn seeing him now was damn near enough to destroy his hard-on. Herb opened his eyes and tried to concentrate on that taut little eighty pounds of twelve-year-old beneath him. How could an old man let his mind wander when there was such lovely work to be done? He thrust his cock deep into her, held a moment, felt her taut little belly tremble around him. Once more and already little Evie was teetering over the ragged edge of orgasm.
While he was toying to decide whether to let her come again or to cool it for a moment until she could get her second wind, the eighty-pound nymphet gave a thrust and wiggle, driving him up to the hilt in her snug snapper, grinding her bony hairless pussy against his pubis, and expressed her sentiments with a deep and heartfelt "Aaaaaaahhhh!"
"Oh, golly," she sighed after a ten-second rest, "I never knew anything could feel that good."
To be perfectly honest about it, neither did Herb. He tried to remember if once--anywhere in his forty-nine-year career of erotic triumphs he had ever experienced anything one half so fingerlickin' good as little Evie. The only one who could even begin to compare was old Kate.
Now that he had laid old Kate's ghost with little Evie, maybe he could think dispassionately about that first erotic episode in his life. It hadn't been her fault. Old Kate had been twelve-and-a-half and like any woman of any age, would boss a man around exactly as much as she thought she could get away with. He wondered how it would have turned out that hot sleepy afternoon in her attic room if he'd been a little older. If he'd known the score and had sense enough to stop playing around and pour the old meat to her.
Instead, after cheating unmercifully, Kate had surprised him by undressing and making him undress and they had 'rassled'. Jesus, had they ever 'rassled'! It wasn't fair. No girl was supposed to know all the holds and how to break them and how to cheat and play dirty as skillfully as old Kate. Naked, they grunted and strained and he became so engrossed in trying to beat her that he practically forgot that they were both naked, that he was seeing her interesting new pectoral developments for the first time, that he had finally learned it was true; girls really did grow hair down there.
The puzzling thing about this wrestling match was the way old Kate kept weakening at odd moments, letting him overpower her in patently impossible ways. But it had started out in earnest when she had grabbed his cock.
At twelve Herb wasn't all that used to grabbing at himself. But for a girl to have her hand on his... it was unthinkable. He gasped and felt himself turning bright pink all over. Suddenly he realized for the first time what it meant to be naked--to be really uncovered!
A goldang girl had him by the prick! Outraged, he thrust his hand into old Kate's crotch. And to his infinite amazement she didn't resist. She left it there without a struggle.
He could feel all sorts of interesting anatomy whose location he had only guessed at before. Truthfully, until he had seen old Kate without her panties a short while ago, Herb had not been absolutely sure in his own mind whether it was strictly true about girls not having a cock just like boys.
When he had coaxed her hand away with the dice cup Herb had finally decided the older boys were right. There was not a sign of a prick down there. But conversely, no matter how closely and carefully he scanned her nearly hairless pubis, there was no hint of a hole either.
Now, with his hand buried in the gap between her tightclasped thighs, Herb gathered his first hint of where that hole might be. Amazingly, it was not in front where the stick figures on toilet walls in schools always showed it. His fingers probed as best they could between her tightclasped thighs and he found two rounded lips large and full as those on Kate's mouth. Which reminded him that one of these days he was going to ask Kate if she wanted to kiss him.
He was tempted to ask her right now, but Kate was funny, and he didn't want to make her mad and have her send him home before he could finish feeling out the secret between her tight-clasped legs. It was funny she didn't fight and make him take his hand out of there. It seemed almost as if she wanted him to keep his hand in there.
She gave a squeeze of thighs over his hand which almost blotted out the sensation of her hand squeezing his cock. Jeez, did it ever feel funny! She squeezed again and it felt almost like the times when he went to the bathroom and sat there leisurely sliding his foreskin up and down the swelling, throbbing head of his cock.
That was a funny pastime. The first few times he had tried it he couldn't understand why the older boys all thought it was so great. It felt nice, but it wasn't all that wonderful. Then one day only last week he had been squeezing and caressing it, running his hand up and down as if he were pumping up a bicycle tire when a stray image of Kate in her new knit jersey bathing suit crossed his mind. Suddenly the game had taken on new dimensions as his cock rose and responded to vigorous massage.
It was feeling that way again right now as old Kate squeezed and milked it, tormenting his prick unmercifully in typical girl-style.
He wanted her to stop it. He didn't want her to stop it. He didn't know what the heck he wanted. It hurt. But it hurt so good Herb suddenly knew he couldn't make old Kate stop anything. His will was turning to mush as her hand squeezed and caressed, running his taut foreskin up and down his rampant boycock. He didn't know exactly how it was going to end but he had lost all control. He wanted to tickle and torment old Kate, make her suffer the way she was making him but it felt so funny and he was so weak... His legs were coming open, spreading, actually inviting her hand deeper into his secret and sacred precincts. Golly Jesus, what was wrong with him? A guy didn't let a girl do things like this to him!
He ought to be tormenting her, squeezing and tickling, pinching and poking, making her say 'ouch' and 'please don't' and all that kind of stuff. He couldn't do anything.
His hand was still between old Kate's legs. Slowly, she worked her body around and punched and prodded him until she could face his other end and get her hand on him without stretching. And all the time she kept up that squeezing and rubbing and--oh, Jesus!--did it ever feel funny!
It felt so funny Herb didn't know what was coming over him. He still had his hand in there. It reminded him of his five-year-old urge to pillow his face on a girl's bare calves. This was totally and completely crazy. He wanted to get his face down there where his hand was--to see the secrets of Kate's crotch just as close as he could get his eyes. He caught himself wondering how that soft inner surface of her thighs would feel to his cheek.
She wouldn't let him do it--not even if Herb could let himself do it. Golly, guys just didn't do things like that! But he knew in his heart of hearts exactly what he wanted to do. No matter what it sounded like, he wanted to kiss Kate's ass!
Kate was stretching out, making herself comfortable, end-for-end to him on the narrow bed. She must be angling around to get a close look at his prick. Her head must be real close to the controversial organ she was so busily engaged in hand rearing. He wondered if Kate realized that this put his face right in front of the hairless, bony prominence that punctuated the spot where two, long well-turned legs came together and joined to create a smoothskinned, just-rounding belly. And his hand was still caught in the crotch!
Goldang! If he could just trick her into opening her legs so he could get his hand out and get a good look. It had to be there somewhere. He had gotten one good feel of a pair of full, pouting pussylips. He'd bet anything that if a girl really had a cunt it was going to be between those lips. What did it look like? Would it have a tongue? Teeth?
Suddenly--he never understood exactly how it was happening, Kate's thighs parted and his hand was free. He got both hands in there, resolved to part her thighs and get a good look before she could whomp him one on the back of the neck. But that was the part he never quite understood. It seemed almost for a minute there as if old Kate's hand was on the back of his neck pushing him in, pushing him deep into her widespread legs until his nose was burrowing right into the wet gap between those gaping lips. Before he could react, her thighs had locked down tight again over his ears. He was trapped. He couldn't move!
She held him in a tight scissors and for a moment Herb felt nothing but a blind, unreasoning panic. Jesus, if the gang ever found out where he had his head right now... She held him so tightly he was unable to move. He struggled once and she squeezed his cock. Hard!
He was in her power completely. Jeez! What a thing to happen to a guy! They lay quiet for a long moment. Her thighs weren't so tight now--no longer squeezing his head out of shape. Her hand was not hurting his prick either. But she still held it, just as she clasped her long slim thighs loosely over his ears. Herb knew if he tried to escape he would immediately feel how deeply he was in her grip.
Then a sudden happy thought occurred to him. Kate wouldn't ever tell the guys about this. How could she? If she could blackmail him, he could also threaten to tell on her. It was what, he had learned from Zane Grey's novels, was called a Mexican standoff.
He realized to his vague surprise that he was exactly where he had wanted to be a moment ago. And better still, Kate had made him do it so she could never blame him. Still, he wondered what she would do once she discovered that the head she had so ruthlessly captured was actually kissing its captor-- kissing Kate's pussy.
He pursed his lips and tried it.
There was a moment of startled rigidity and then Kate did the last thing on earth he had ever expected. The hand over his cock gave a gentle caressing rub.
Unbelieving, Herb waited a moment, then tried it again. The same thing happened. He tried it a third time and the pressure of thighs over his ears relaxed enough for his face to root about seeking out new spots. Golly, but her pussy flesh was nice and soft! He kissed again and felt her caress and squeeze his cock again.
Herb felt his twelve-year-old mind splitting off into waterproof compartments--one half of him mortified at this unbelievable predicament. He had lost a wrestling match to a girl. She had made him undress and she had her hand on his prick and was subjecting him to unbelievable indignities. She had made him put his head between her legs and kiss her ass and...
And the other half of his mind said that he must be hopelessly perverted, maybe insane but golly did it ever feel good! A long hot summer stretched before him. And Kate lived handily next door. If his parents and her parents would just obligingly make themselves scarce every afternoon... the vistas of endless delight stretched far into the future. By golly, if he could just count on none of the fellers ever finding out he didn't mind if he did this with old Kate every day!
Suddenly she spread her thighs wide for a moment and her hand came down heavily on the back of his head, driving him even deeper. Aghast, he suddenly realized what she had done. Opening her legs had spread those two pouting lips wide and now his lips were right in there in the damp. Gosh almighty! He must have his mouth right inside her cunt! Before he could retreat, her thighs had closed over him and there was no way out.
Talk about fixes! He wondered if ever in the history of mankind any feller had ever been caught in a predicament like this. Girls books were always harping about something they called a 'fate worse than death.' He had never realized that these gushy goings-on could be applied to boys too. What was he going to?
Nothing, he knew. Not as long as old Kate wanted to keep him here. He considered biting but old Kate still gripped his prick and he knew if he hurt her she'd hurt back plenty.
"Do it again." Kate's voice came muffled to his thigh-covered ears.
He wondered what she wanted him to do.
"Lick me," she elucidated.
Herb tried to pretend he hadn't heard her. She squeezed his prick hard. He shot out a tongue and for the first time in his twelve years of existence tasted the salty sensation of cunt. Suddenly, she was squeezing his cock in a different way, a wholly delightful way and every time his tongue ran up and down her pussy a gentle hand ran up and down his throbbing prick, sending him slowly toward that delightful state he had first sensed only weeks ago when a half hour's incessant pumping of foreskin had unexpectedly terminated in a little flurry as if some rubber-band-powered toy had slipped a cog and run down inside him with a single magnificent whirrrrrrrr! It felt that way right now--as if a few more strokes of old Kate's hand would make that model airplane inside him run down with the same soul-melting whirrrrr! He drew a breath and waited.
Kate's hand ceased ministering to his throbbing tool.
He waited a moment. Finally he realized what he should have known all along. Goldang! It was all a shuck! She liked what he was doing to her just as much as he liked what old Kate's hand was doing to him. But why did it have to be her hand and his tongue?
No matter. Herb knew if he ever wanted to feel that lovely whirrrrrl in his crotch he would have to continue licking this juicy slit. And the real heck of it was that he liked it--he really wanted to. He stuck out his tongue and immediately Kate was doing her part.
He licked and she squeezed and he licked and she squeezed and rubbed and he sucked and she caressed his throbbing cock and it was almost as if old Kate knew exactly what he was thinking and feeling because he was right there on the edge of that wonderful happy feeling and she was nursing him along, always just one stroke short of fulfillment.
He wanted to stop, to tell her in no uncertain terms that if she didn't hurry up and do it right, he was going to quit doing what he was doing to her. But he knew he couldn't stop. It was dirty. It was unthinkable. But he was doing it and it felt so good and Kate's hand on his prick felt sq good that he knew he couldn't risk doing anything that would make her stop. Dang it! Couldn't she move just a tiny bit faster?
It didn't feel like a hand on his cock at all. It was warm and slick and wet and firm, yet soft at the same time and... where the hell was he?
Abruptly Herb realized he was in his apartment with nothing but an eighty-pound, twelve-year-old girl separating him from the mattress. Jesus! How could he have wasted this precious moment rehashing half-century-old memories? This was little Evie; this was now. He had his cock in her and instead of savoring the bird-in-the-hand reality of a willing twelve-year-old virgin with the tightest pussy he had ever penetrated... Christ!
"Am I doing it right?" Evie asked.
He hadn't even known what she was doing. "I'm sorry sweetie," he said. "Do it again just like you did the last time and I'll tell you."
Evie began moving her ass back and forth, up and down, performing the work that any self-respecting gentleman was supposed to do for a lady the first time around. Herb realized he had slipped off into another daydream and the willing little girl had taken up the slack when he stopped thrusting. Oh, well... at least it had given him a rest.
His indestructible old man's hard-on still filled little Evie to overflowing. He could imagine the sight that would greet him it he were agile enough or curious enough to twist around and get a good look at his cock going in and out, in and out of her.
Evie's twelve-year-old pussy would be puckering with each thrust, full lips crimping and puckering inward around the shank of his shaft each time he went in. Coming out, her vibrant little box would cling so tightly that lips would evert and her vagina would start to turn inside out each time he withdrew. He wondered how long she could take the punishment before she would be sore and exhausted.
Evie's enthusiastic glowing face showed no hint of satiation or exhaustion. Suddenly Herb realized that even with his tireless old man's hard-on he might be hard put to keep up with this little minx. She was amazing. Most girls the first time around didn't enjoy it at all. It was like smoking a first joint--a pointless pursuit that acquired meaning and pleasure only after several repetitions. But little Evie seemed to take to fucking like--like Herb had the next chance he got with a willing Mrs. McCoy who had been around long enough to know what little boys were good for. If only he could have done his apprentice fucking with little Evie forty-nine years ago instead of old Kate.
But what the hell? Forty-nine years ago he wouldn't have known how to handle little Evie any better than he had old Kate. There ought to be special schools or a volunteer service or something to teach children how to do it right. Think of all the heartbreak, the disappointment and pregnancies that could be avoided if only each boy or girl were taught how to fuck by a sympathetic and experienced adult. He remembered his happy thought of last night.
That was the way to solve the rest-home problem: Recruit the limitless drive and energy of children and teenagers. Send them around to take care of the old folks. Fuck them to death. Could there be a nicer way to go? And it would keep the children off the streets too. It was, he realized, too simple a solution to the age's social ills ever to be adopted. It was also, he realized, the second time in as many minutes that his senile mind had wandered away from little Evie. Jesus, what was wrong with him?
Nothing, he guessed, that a transfusion or a new body couldn't cure. He focused his eyes on her trim little body and began pumping, once more feeding his cock to her. Evie gave a grateful sigh and settled back content to let Herb do the work for a change. "How long are we going to do it?" Evie asked.
"A-ha! Little Evie's getting tired already!"
"N-no," she protested. "I still like it but... "
"But you're getting just a teeny bit tired and you'd like to rest for a while."
"Welllll-" Herb grasped her firmly by the waist and managed a quick turnover. He lay at his ease, on his back now with a little girl astride him, his cock still deep into her. Evie gasped and after a moment sat up, still spindled on his cock.
the view was much nicer this way, with Herb on his back and Evie sitting straight up where he could focus on her tiny, perfect body, savor the gentle swell of her tiny, just-starting tits.
"Guy!" Evie said. 'This is fun!" She began bouncing experimentally, her taut little ass sliding up and down his cock.
It was so much fun watching her at full length as her taut little body slid up and down his throbbing hard cock that for an instant Herb was afraid this twelve-year-old was going to destroy the rock-hard immutability of his old man's hard-on.
But, goddamn, did her tight little cunt ever feel GOOD!
He remembered his problems trying to come with Mrs. Klohn. And his problems trying not to come with the lissome twenty-two-year-old Aunt Charlie. What would happen this time? He had to admit to himself that luscious as little Evie was, a little girl as active as all this could wear an old man down. Not that he didn't mind being worn down this way, but...
Suddenly he wondered how long they had been at it. How much longer could he keep this lovely sylph spiked on his nubbin before somebody missed her? In a city like this he knew that the child could not be missing for ten minutes before Charlie and Sis, whatever the mother's name was, would have the whole neighborhood plus the precinct station in an uproar.
"Can you see what time it is?" he asked.
Evie glanced over his head at the clock. "Golly!" she said. "I gotta go!" She was halfway off him before he captured her firm little ass and got her back onto his cock before it could cool off.
"Not that way," he warned. "Remember those horrible pains and the ambulance and all that I told you about?"
Evie bit her lip. "Yeah, but Aunt Charlie and my mother'll be back soon and--you know."
Did he ever. But Herb also knew he had an even chance of never dipping his wick into this lovely child again. Or any other female if things really went wrong. "We can hurry up," he said.
"How?"
"Just go up and down as fast as you can."
"Will you tell me when we're finished?"
Herb doubted if he'd have to but he promised. Little Evie began doing her best to emulate a runaway steam engine. Still squatting astraddle him, she began bouncing vigorously.
Suddenly and without the slightest warning Herb felt it coming. How lucky can you get? he wondered. His cock was throbbing, his mind filled with the vision of twelve-year-old, taut-bodied blonde little Evie, her ass wrapped tight around his cock, bouncing in full face view before him, every inch of her eminently grabbable little body within reach. He sat up, still holding the little girl on his lap and they faced each other, rocking back and forth as his cock drove deep into her each time he swung backward, pulled out each time he rolled forward to bury his face in her tiny tits.
And then suddenly he was firing his long-held load, spurting, squirting, filling her tiny pussy with jism until it seemed there was no room for another drop and still he was coming, flowing, his vision dissolving in a pink haze of erotic joy as a little girl bounced joyously up and down his jetting cock.
Evie was suddenly coming again, too, her thin childish voice adding a tremulous soprano to the deepseated grunts that accompanied his unloading. OH WOW, OH JESUS, DID IT EVER FEEL GOOD!
Finally they lay spent, Evie still half atop him, her brimming cunt still stuck around his like a bitch in heat. "OOOOOHHH!" she moaned. "I'm so tired.- But it was so good. When can we do it again?"' "Soon," Herb murmured. "But if you have to "Oh, golly!" Still fluttery with weakness, she was staggering to her feet.
Herb made a supreme effort and roused from his lassitude. "You can't go home that way," he warned, "All smeared with love-juice."
"Guy! What am I gonna DO?" Her voice rose in panic.
She was a virgin. She wouldn't know how to douche out even if she had the equipment. Herb went into the shower and started the water running. "Come in here," he said.
Evie joined him in the shower and he grabbed her by the waist. Before the little girl had time to protest he turned her upside down, put his mouth to her pussy and spurted water into her. He filled his mouth from the shower head and jetted warm, clean water repeatedly into her tiny snatch until it came out clean. Meanwhile little Evie giggled and played with his balls. For a moment he felt his old war horse start to rise and he was tempted to pour it to her once more right here in the shower under the soothing jet of warm water.
You'll kill yourself, old man, he decided. Finally they laved free of the juices of love fulfilled. He toweled her off and dried himself, climbing back into his clothes while Evie hastily donned the shorts, the blouse and bobby socks she had worn into his apartment. She was rushing toward the door when he caught her--just barely, by flying blonde hair. "Careful," he warned. "Remember, you can't be seen coming in and out of here all the time."
"Oh yeah, golly!" She realized.
Herb checked his fly and cautiously opened the door. The coast seemed to be clear. "Got your key?" he asked.
Evie nodded. She slipped out into the hall and Herb closed the door immediately, before somebody could see his open door and a little girl going down the hall and draw the obvious conclusion. He stood stock-still behind his locked door waiting for the sound of Evie's key in her lock. Finally it came. He heard the muffled sound of a door opening and closing and then all was quiet. He guessed he was home free.
What he had done had been insane. He knew it now. Of all the crazy things for a sixty-one-year-old man to do! He had Mrs. Klohn willing to give him a blow job whenever he wanted it. And only hours ago he had dipped his wick in lovely, twenty-two-year-old Charlie of the lissome body, the long legs and the natural strawberry blonde snatch. What more could any old man want? Or any young man? Now why had he had to go and spoil it all by tampering with a twelve-year-old no matter how lovely she was--all for the sake of a half-century-old memory. Christ! If old Kate was still alive at all she'd be sixty-one by now. What the hell would she care one way or another?
He had thrown away his freedom, his last chance ever to get his cock into a warm, soft female body and all for an hour of madness with an immature twelve-year-old! How could you ever keep a thing like, this a secret? Evie might mean well. But what kid of that age could keep a secret? She'd let something slip and Charlie or Sis or somebody would get curious and start pumping and the next thing Herb knew there would be a police car pulling up in front of this building. Jesus! Why couldn't he have kept his goddamn fly buttoned? Why couldn't he have stuck with Charlie? Or even Mrs. Klohn? Neither of them would get his ass off in the pokey where he'd never get to punch anything but the hairy ass of some San Quentin queen for the rest of his natural life. Why, oh why had he done it?
Because he couldn't help himself. It was as simple as that. And he knew damn well that if little Evie were to come back in this room right now and say she'd found a note from Aunt Charlie that supper was in the oven and Charlie wouldn't be home for another few hours--by god he'd have her little panties down before she could finish explaining!
There was a knock on the door and he gasped. For a moment he thought he was going to have a heart attack. It was weird the way the world could plot to trick an old man. Almost, he realized, as if there were some Supreme Malevolence up there who listened and knew all his secret thoughts and all his weaknesses and made sure that only the temptations he would be unable to resist would be thrown in his path. If that was little Evie... if she had come back to tell him that her mother and her aunt were gone again, had left a note and... suddenly Herb was very frightened.
He checked his fly again and cautiously unlocked the door.
"My goodness, you look as if you'd seen a ghost."
It was Mrs. Klohn.
When, his heart stopped beating wildly he realized she had recovered from her crying jag and seemed positively cheerful. "I've come to settle up about the rent and the cleaning deposit and all that," she said. "The movers will be here in the morning."
"So soon?"
"No use wasting time," she said cheerfully. After a moment she sensed Herb's mystification. "Fred called again and we had a little talk," she explained.
Oh Jesus, she's divorcing him and moving in with me!
"Really a very understanding man," Mrs. Klohn was continuing. "You know at first we wanted children but when it didn't work out that way and I got so lonely--well, anyway, Fred understands."
Herb wondered if it might not be better to call the cops and turn himself in.
"A house mother," she was continuing. "Won't that be nice?"
"A what?"
"It's a college town. I'm going to be house mother for a fraternity. I'm sure it'll keep me happy."
Herb grinned and kissed her. "I'm sure you'll be a guiding light for countless young men," he said.
"You won't miss me?" she asked kittenishly.
"Of course I will. But just think of all those poor young men in need of the kind of guidance only an experienced and mature woman can give."
"I knew you'd understand," Mrs. Klohn said.
She kissed him again and was gone. Herb stood bemused, wishing his problems could work out as neatly and happily as forty-year-old, forty-inch busted, braless Mrs. Klohn of the unwrinkled body and generous disposition. Jesus, was she ever going to swing with all those stiff-pricked young college boys! Did fraternities still go for gang-bangs? He hoped for Mrs. Klohn's sake that they did.
There was another knock on the door. He opened it, and it was Mrs. Klohn again. "Forgot about the rent and cleaning deposit," she said.
Herb got out his books and she wrote a check and kissed him again and was gone again. For a moment he had though she'd come back to suck his cock one last time. What, he wondered, would have happened if she'd tried it? He'd come twice in less than twenty four hours. Not bad for a man of sixty one. More importantly, he seemed to have still at his age to have been able to leave three women supremely happy. He wondered how many hours of the last twenty-four his cock had actually been in somebody's hand, mouth or cunt. Oh, well... it would be nice to remember when he was off in storage watching the San Quentin queens parade up and down the cell block.
But already he was having second thoughts. Why hadn't he contrived some way to keep that luscious little girl here long enough to get it in her just once more? Surely if he worked at it he could get it up again, come once more even if it killed him.
The phone rang. He picked it up and it was Charlie. "Have you seen Evie?" she asked.
It felt as if somebody was tracing the contours of his spine with an icicle. Evie ought to be so fucked out, so happily satiated she would be sound asleep--or flaked out watching TV at best. This had to be a trap question.
"I just got home," Charlie continued. "Sis caught her plane, and I've got an hour or two free before I have to go to work and I'm sure you can guess how I'd like to spend it, but... "
"I don't know," Herb said helplessly. "Have you checked the pool?" Suddenly he realized it might be wisest to do this himself. If Evie was out there perhaps a word or gesture would remind her of the need for silence. Christ! How long would it be before little Evie slipped and blew it all?
He met Charlie in the hallway and they walked toward the pool. Little Evie, blast her resilient hide, was splashing happily with the only other child in the building--a fat little girl some years her junior. Charlie and Herb checked themselves before the children could see them. "Give me a minute," Charlie murmured.
Herb went back to his apartment. Suddenly he realized the bed was a mess of pecker tracks, the shower full of damp towels and, sure as hell, little Evie would have left a sock or something to give the show away! He rushed about the apartment in a frenzy of sheet-changing and picking up. He was still looking for evidence when he heard the knob turn. Charlie came in.
Jesus! She was lovely in a white sleeveless dress! But he'd come less that half an hour ago, come so explosively up Evie's little pussy that for an instant he'd thought he'd blown his balls off. Could be get it up for Charlie? Remembering the tight-clustered strawberry-blonde ringlets of her prominent pubic patch, Herb resolved he would die trying. Sooner of later Charlie would get wise that he had been pouring it to little Evie. He might as well gather rosebuds while he might.
But Charlie, in addition to two tits and an ass, also had a brain in her lovely body. "You look tired," she said. "Have you been giving Mrs. Klohn a send-off?"
Herb was so surprised by the unexpected direction of her suspicions that she was convinced that he hadn't. "It's just that we senior citizens are limited by natural law to single shot weapons," he explained. "But don't let that stop you. Such are the uses of adversity that I've been thinking of writing a book on the thousand ways to hold a lady's attention with an empty gun."
"Oh, really?" Charlie laughed. "Give me one."
"Well, there's the Scheherazade gambit."
"I'm a barmaid. Don't you think I hear enough stories every night?"
"Ve haff other vays," he said with a wienerschnitzel accent.
"Show me."
Herb moved behind her and began fiddling with the neck clasp of her dress. Moments later she stepped out of it. He put the dress carefully aside and faced a slim blonde clad only in spike heels and lace-topped panty hose. Ve haff other vays. His cock was soggy, dead as last week's punch line. He wished to Christ he could think of some 'other vay'.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
"My turn," Charlie said, and began undressing him. As he stared down at the trim figure of spike heels and panty hose kneeling before him Herb felt " a faint stirring in his crotch. Too little and too late, he thought. Charlie worked with the smooth economy of motion that comes from practice. He remembered little Evie's fumbling efforts to get his pants off an hour or so ago and felt another tiny stir. Jesus, if he could just get it up this one more time--this last time before Charlie found out that he'd had his hand in the till...
Suddenly Charlie was on her feet again. "Just checking," she said "You really are tired." She left him with his trousers at half mast and began putting her white dress on again.
Now I've blown it! Now I'll never get another chance-- "You know what time I get off work," Charlie said. "Do you think you'll be rested up by then?" He gave a mutely hopeful nod. Charlie kissed him and was Teaching for the doorknob when she remembered. "Could you keep your eye on Evie again?"
Herb guessed he could. For this kind of fee, who minded babysitting? But as he sat alone in his apartment, staring distastefully at an open can of beer, he knew that there was something very funny about this. Charlie's attitude just didn't ring true. He remembered their fine fling last night. No girl could fake that. She had enjoyed her work as much as he. So what the hell was going on? No matter what, Herb suspected it was not in his best interest.
He sighed. His day's work was finished. If he had a brain in his head he'd jump into the camper and disappear until the air cleared. Then he remembered he had promised Charlie to keep an eye on Evie. There was one thing he could do right now. He undressed and went to bed. Thanks to the sedative powers of repeated orgasm, he went to sleep immediately.
When he woke the phone was ringing. He picked it up and it was Evie. "She's gone and I'm all alone," the little girl said.
"Uh... "
"Can you hear me? Are you all right?" The phone died with a clunk and a moment later Evie was pounding on his door. Oh Jesus! This little girl was going to turn into a twelve-year-old Mrs. Klohn! He opened the door and she slipped in quickly. "I thought you were sick or something," Evie said.
"I may be." But he was fully awake by now, eyes focusing on the twelve-year-old body that bounced and jiggled before him. Suddenly he knew that a few hours sleep had done for him what the sight of pink nippled Charlie in spike heels and panty hose had not been able to do. Evie wore fluffy slippers and shorty pyjamas. Her long straight hair was still tied with that same yellow ribbon.
"You ready?" she asked.
"For what?" Shame on you, old man! "You promised to tell me a bedtime story. You never did."
Shame on you twice! He wondered if her twelve-year-old mind had forgotten all their fine frolic of a few hours ago. For a moment he wondered if it had really happened. Was his mind wandering again?
"Aunt Charlie said you were tired. She said not to bother you, but you're not too tired to tell me a story are you?"
A scare shot through Herb, then he realized Charlie didn't have to know anything. Yet. She could just be trying to save up his energy for when she got off work.
"Well," Herb began, "Once there was an old man had so many lady friends he didn't know what to do." Evie climbed into his lap and snuggled down. The shortie pyjamas exposed great grabbable length of thigh. As she ground her little ass around getting comfortable he felt his tired old war horse begin to whinny. From her sudden way of moving to make room he knew Evie sensed it too.
The phone rang. Before he could grab it Evie had it. He was reaching for the hook, ready to assure whoever rung the next time that, no, they must have dialed the wrong number when he heard Evie say, "I told you I could make him do it again."
Oh, Jesus! He'd known something funny was going on. Now she'd blown the whistle on him. Evie was holding out the phone.
Herb took it as if it were a live grenade. "Yes?" he said.
"This is Charlie."
Herb waited.
"I'll give you and Evie ten seconds to get over to my apartment."
"But I--you're supposed to be working... "
"Ten seconds," Charlie said grimly.
Thank God she'd given him some option. The cops weren't pounding on his door yet. Maybe he could square things somehow... He found his robe and followed Evie to the second door down the hall, wondering what would happen if one of the other tenants happened to open the door and see this strange parade. Evie opened the door and slipped in. When he went in she locked it behind him.
Charlie was not in her work clothes. She sat in the front room wearing a peignoir that displayed an interesting length of thigh. "I suppose you'd like some kind of explanation," she said.
"It might clear the air," Herb agreed. "But perhaps for openers I'd better tell you I just work here. I don't own the building or anything else except my other pair of pants."
Charlie laughed. "We're not blackmailers. We've--us, suffered a bereavement and we're all a little lonely."
Grandfather flies in the air force! Suddenly Herb began to see an inkling of why a twelve-year-old and a twenty-two-year-old were so hot to play games with an old man. That old pilot must've been quite a swinger on the ground.
Charlie got from her easy chair and the sash fell free. When she stepped forward she nearly stepped out of the peignoir. "As they say in the Victorian novels, please be kind." She reached up and kissed him. Evie was already worming her way in between them, fiddling with the cord on his pyjama bottoms. Within seconds the three of them were in the other room, atop the bed, with Herb in the middle. "You've no idea how tiresome young men are once a girl's known a mature man with real staying power," Charlie said. There was a moment of silence, then she added, "I really didn't plan on Evie getting into my same hangup, but I suppose there are worse ways for a girl to learn. Can you go the stretch?"
Herb suddenly realized he'd come up smelling like a rose. He had the best of all possible worlds and no prospect of San Quentin in the background as long as he could keep twelve-year-old Evie and twenty-two-year-old Aunt Charlie happy. And they--Charlie at least, seemed to understand an old man's limitations. So they'd suffered a bereavement. He was willing to bet the flying grandfather had died happy.
Charlie blew in his ear. Suddenly Herb was ready. He felt his old warhorse rise in leaping bounds. "My place or yours?" Charlie asked. It took Herb a moment to realize she was not talking to him. She was talking to Evie. Wow!
This couldn't be really happening. It was another of those silly senile dreams again. An old man's febrile fancy. But there was a dim light on in the bedroom. He could see Charlie's lithe body, twin volcanoes silhouetted in the night light. On the other side of him little Evie lay waiting, her tiny, just-beginning tits like and early edition of Charlie's slight, taut little body. He wondered if they would end up fighting over him. Jesus, he thought, this isn't really happening! It can't be!
Evie's tiny hand shot out and grasped the base of his cock.
Suddenly he felt it growing harder, bigger, longer than he could remember since--since this afternoon.
From his opposite side Charlie's hand darted out to capture a length of cock. They're choosing up sides to bat, he suddenly realized. Evie's other hand went out. She struggled to grasp the tiny bit of foreskin that extended from Charlie's fist. "You first," she said cheerfully.
Now I know fucking well I'm dreaming! Things like this don't really happen. I should've let Mrs. Klohn blow me again. But could any dream be as warm, as firm fleshed as Charlie who was pulling him atop her, flexing her long shapely legs in missionary position, tilting her ass up to receive his throbbing rod? I'll stick my cock in her and then I'll come and I'll wake up alone with a mess on the sheets and I'll know I shouldn't have watched her and I should've vacuumed the pool instead of memorizing that little girl in the yellow bikini.
But when he drove it deep into her, resolved to achieve at least one deep plunge into this dream before he exploded into lonely wakefulness Charlie gave a contented AAAAAHHHH and Herb did not come. Not even a tremulous quivery hint. He was awake. He had to be awake to be able to get it into anything this lovely and keep it there. Accept it, he told himself. You've got a couple of girls who started off right, with an old man who had the staying power to teach them--Charlie at least, what real fucking amounts to. They'll never be happy with these whambam, thank you, maam studs who aren't old enough to keep it up for an afternoon.
He lay lightly atop Charlie, resting most of his weight on his elbows. She wiggled and maneuvered until they lay on their sides, still in missionary position. Then Charlie began arching away from him, getting her body as far away as she could without unplugging the vital connection.
Suddenly Evie was filling the gap. The three of them made a triangle on the bed, Evie's face close to Charlie's, Evie's hands on Charlie's firm little tits. Charlie's hands were outstretched and suddenly Herb saw what she was doing. Charlie was aiming Evie's little, only-hours-from-virginity ass straight at him.
Herb took a deep breath and dived, driving his cock deep into Charlie, his mouth deep into the thick pouting, almost hairless lips of Evie's cunt. He remembered his first time with each of these girls--what a struggle it had been to contain himself and not come--how he had nearly disgraced himself as a dirty old man. Now he had his second wind. He had come twice. He would be good for all night, taking turns stuffing it into Charlie until she lay gasping with satiation, then pouring his cock to little Evie. It would kill him sooner or later. But what a way to go!
Somebody's fingers--he had no idea whose, were caressing his balls, tickling the tender strip of skin between balls and asshole. He drove his tongue deep in Evie's cunt and the caressing of his perineum didn't miss a stroke. He drove his cock deeper into Charlie and knew who was tickling him. A hand was caressing the nape of his neck, tickling the short hairs and giving him a very agreeable little turn-on. Now who could that be?
Who cared? He was up to his ass, up to his tongue in girls, and nobody was holding any stop watch. He gave his cock another in and out shove and was given a round robin message via Evie's long, smooth-tapered thighs wrapped round his ears. Jesus, did she ever have a tasty little cunt! He licked it and suddenly Charlie's tight fitting funnel of flesh was sliding up and down his dong, filling his soul and gonads with the joy that passeth all human understanding.
Charlie's cunt was almost as tight as little Evie's. And Charlie, he suspected, must have studied yoga. Never had he felt so many educated muscles doing their thing up, down and around his hot throbbing knob. Charlie's cunt could milk him down better than Mrs. Klohn's throat!
Christ, did it ever feel good! Stay awake, old man, he told himself. This isn't any lonesome fantasy. You're not dreaming. This is for real. You've lived a long full life and you're fifty-eleven and you're in bed with two girls--not women. Girls'. How lucky can you get? Oh, Jesus, she's clenching her cunt--as if it wasn't tight enough. She's squeezing and milking and goddamn! All my life I've wanted to be able to kiss a pussy and fuck at the same time and now, even if it kills me, I'm doing it. I've got my cock six miles up Charlie's lovely little ass and her belly's quivering, every goddamn muscle in her working like a belly dancer and somebody's tickling my asshole and WOW! OH, FUCK!!
He got his face out of little Evie's ass long enough for a deep breath and a firm grip on reality--a grip almost as firm as that of his hands around her trim, just-rounded little twelve-year-old bottom. It was so good, such a wonderful culmination of every lonesome dream that he was still not quite convinced whether he was actually doing it or just dreaming about it. Goddamn an old man's fuzzy mind!
There was a tiny spurt of love's elixir as he drove his tongue deep into Evie's ass. The little girl had come already. No dream could taste so unmistakably of hot willing woman. It had to be true. He wanted to pinch himself but somebody was already pinching his ass. Somebody was playing with his balls, caressing them each time he pulled his cock from the throbbing fleshy funnel of Charlie's snug vagina.
They were writhing on the bed in a joyous erotic mass. Suddenly, Charlie's cunt was brimming with passion's potion. "Oooooohhhh!" she moaned, "Ooooooohhh, you diiiiirrrrty old MAAAN!"
He wondered if, despite Evie's just lost virginity, these two girls might not have been practicing together. How else could they have managed the switch that smoothly. Suddenly Charlie was off somewhere in the bath douching remembered joy from her snug little cunt and, practically without missing a stroke, he was fucking little Evie, his cock sliding smoothly in and out, in and out of her come-lubricated little cunt.
To put it more accurately, little Evie was fucking him. She lay atop him, her trim little twat sliding busily up and down his indestructible old man's hard-on. Jesus, did it ever feel good! She was not bouncing like she had earlier this afternoon. Instead, the little girl was devoting herself to sliding up and down the greased pole with a proper solemnity, hesitating for a delicious moment each time she rose, then slowly descending onto him, driving his staff deep, deep into her. She sat up and he was treated to an unobstructed view of her tiny, just-developing tits. He raised his head to kiss them.
"Mmmmmmmmmm!" Evie said, and continued her steady slide up and down his rod.
"Yessss!" Herb sighed.
Charlie was coming back, cunt freshly douched, ready to take over the instant Evie faltered. He felt her soft warm body warming his back. Then one tiny tit was plugged into his ear while Evie still slid up and down.
"How you holding out, old man?" Charlie asked.
"Ask me in three or four hours," Herb said. He drove his cock upward to meet the thrust of Evie's little ass.
