NADINE'S NAUGHTY PANTIES is a tale of the 21st Century-a time in which Joseph Nuttin's statement in Psychoanalysis and Personality that: " ... the sexual impulse in man can engross a great part of his activity, dominating his point of view in all his social relationships if there is no resistance to its satisfaction,"-is accepted merely as a fact and not a point of interest. A time in which people are too busy doing it to ponder it. And one man, Kelly P. Gast, super stud and roue, doesn't want to ever stop doing it. As an old man, lovely young Nadine of the long blonde hair had been his nurse. Now, reborn as a pair of nylon panties, he is in the rather intimate position of guarding her sweet, virginal goodies until the right man comes (!) along. Or is it jealousy that motivates the subtle manipulations of his amazingly mobile mesh?"
CHAPTER ONE
It was the oddest feeling. Here I was, a man who only went for girls. Any size, shape, color, age, but girls! And yet I could feel that tremendous trip hammer of a cock poking its way into me, pushing me out of shape, stretching me thin as a condom. That throbbing, thumping thud bludgeon was driving me right up Nadine's twittering twat.
Lovely Nadine of the long blonde hair. Nadine of twenty unblemished summers, Nadine of the body built for bundling, lovely sylph of heart shaped face and cock raising smile! Nadine of arrogant aureoles firmly skyward pointing at the end of those lovely ski jump slopes. Ah Nadine! Her lovely, thin waisted, all-systems-go body was trembling, thrumming like a well-tuned viola as she turned on with the thrill drill that was forcing me up her rosy lipped cunt, up her dew flushed vagina to ram me, stretched and panting against the fibrillation of her surprised cervix. For one moment both Nadine and I thought that rampant ram slammer would drive me right into her womb.
She gasped, trembled uncontrollably for a moment, then clenched her legs in a frantic effort to keep that flaming phallus from driving still another inch into her quivering quiff.
And there was I right in the middle, getting it from both ends, stretched to the breaking point as I reveled in the trimmest, juiciest, tightest twat I'd seen in over a year. Ain't science wonderful?
It was odd not to have arms or legs or, strictly speaking, any body at all. It was crazier, too, the way it had all happened. But when a man's dying, what can he lose? And if this was life after death, man, was I ever living!
Nadine was only thirteen when I first noticed her. Now, I was eighty at the time, and I suppose you'll say, "What business does a dirty old man have noticing little girls' legs?"
Well, a dirty old man has the same business on his mind as a young one. The only trouble is, when you're eighty it isn't liable to get anywhere besides your mind. But besides being a dirty old man, I was also a very rich old man.
It didn't cramp my style to send the gardener's lovely little thirteen year old to a decent school and have her teeth straightened and do a few more things to bring her promise into full bloom. At the time, of course, I never even had a hope of seeing myself eight inches inside that blossom.
Sometimes, when a man's eighty, he can't sleep very well. Some men count sheep. I've never cared for boys or sheep; I used to count girls. Usually, by the time I got past the first hundred, I would drop off. And this didn't even get me out of college. Goddamn-some of the flat heeled extra solar ecology majors I used to buff in those days!
By the time I was forty, I had a preliminary screening system worked out. As long as a man can afford steak, why eat hamburger?
It's funny though. Little Nadine turned out to be something even harder to find than a lovely clean-cut little girl with a tight little virginal ass. She was a girl who really appreciated what I had done for her. When I turned eighty-five and was having quite a time getting in and out of bed, lovely Nadine, she of the long blonde hair and the ravishing rump, became my nurse.
Tis a sad end we must all come to. Lovely Nadine in her tight fitting micro mini nurse's uniform used to help me in and out of bed. Each time she bent over me those lovely brown-nippled ski jump thirty-fours threatened to escape from the low-cut square neck of her dress.
Nadine was a child, wise beyond her years. She knew how harmless I was. It cost her nothing to bend a little closer, and she enjoyed the gleam that came to my watery old-man's eyes when a tit accidentally brushed my wrinkled face. She didn't wear a bra; she didn't need one.
But, man, how I needed little Nadine! Old and near death as I was, her trim little ass dancing across the room could still bring a nostalgic twinge as my tired old crotch tried to remember an erection.
One day when I was feeling especially low-one of those dreary days when I began to suspect I would never see the spring sun shine again-Nadine came in with my pills and plumped pillows for a while. "Feeling bad today, Mr. Gast? " she asked.
I grunted and silently wished I could get this dreary business of dying over with. The next time I opened my eyes, Nadine was locking the door. She shed her white micro mini nurse's uniform. Beneath it she wore wispy panty hose too sheer to hide the dark blonde pubic patch below her baby fatted tummy. Humming, she skipped about the room straightening up, giving me those lovely jiggling jugs from every edible angle.
Blood pulsed through my tired old arteries. I felt magically lifted from my depression. For one breathless moment I even thought I had the beginnings of my first hard-on in ten years.
Nadine saw me watching. She came to the bed and helped slide me up on my pillow again. This time her bare tits rubbed my face. I breathed deeply. Nadine got me arranged in the bed, then she climbed up and straddled me, kneeling where she could sway back and forth with those lovely brown-nippled tits just brushing my lips. Feebly, I snapped at them. She stopped and allowed my withered lips to capture one lovely nipple.
It was wonderful.
"Poor Mr. Gast," she crooned, "You've been so nice. I'd do anything to make you happy."
Within moments my old man's memory of passion was spent. Nadine saw I was tired. She made me comfortable. Dozing off, I dimly sensed her slipping back into her uniform before she left the room.
Thanks to lovely, kindhearted, bouncy assed little Nadine, my dreams were pleasant that night. It's funny about an old man's dreams-the way they can skip over seventy years and go right back to those golden days when every experience was new. But then, every man remembers his first fuck. How many can remember the twentieth?
That night I dreamed of Rosalie-answer to a stiff pricked fourteen year old's wet dream. That had been back about the turn of the century or a little later, I guess. Maybe 2005. We still lived in a big, old-fashioned house on an artificial island ninety miles off the old California coast. This was before the water breathers from Antares landed the big contract that changed all the coastlines to something more practical.
But Rosalie-Now, of course, I realize what that lovely ass in the too tight maid's uniform was doing around our house. Now I can understand why Dear Old Dad was always so bent out of shape. But then ... Rosalie had tucked me in every night for as long as I could remember. It wasn't her job, but Nanny was getting old, and there was some kind of tacit agreement between Nanny and Rosalie that as long as Rosalie helped the old woman out and let her get off to bed early with her double toddy there would be no interference in whatever else was going on.
Rosalie must have been pushing thirty the year I started noticing tits and asses. I guess my noticing was pretty obvious.
"You goin' t'sleep good t'night?" Rosalie asked as she tucked me in.
I took a deep breath and looked down the neck of Rosalie's uniform, wondering if the nipples on those chocolate-brown bazooms would be black or purple. "I don't think I can sleep very good," I complained. "Could you put another blanket on me?"
"Land sakes, chile, it's hot tonight. "You want to suffocate?"
If I could do it between those brown tits it wouldn't be bad. Rosalie got the blanket and gave me another glimpse as she bent to spread it over me. "Y'all right now?"
"Not really," I complained. "Maybe you better take the blanket off."
Rosalie smiled a secret little smile and bent over again. "Land sakes!" she exclaimed. "Mister Kelly gonna sleep in a tent tonight?"
I could feel my eager, untested cock pushing the covers. Gently, Rosalie peeled back the blanket. "Now what on earth's that?" she wondered.
"I can't help it, Rosalie."
"You can't?"
"No."
"What you think makes it do that?"
"I don't know. But it happens every time you stoop over.
"Like now? " Rosalie bent over farther until I could look damn near to her navel.
My breath caught, and I felt the little preliminary thrill, that same feeling that usually ended in sudden wakefulness and sticky pajamas. I'd stopped wearing tops a few weeks ago when I discovered a few coarse hairs on my chest. Now Rosalie's brown hand was gently tugging at the bow knot in my bottoms. I lay transfixed, not daring to believe what was happening. Somewhere in the back of my mind I couldn't shake the thought that this was all a dream, that any moment now I'd wake up with the solution in hand. Perhaps, if I lay perfectly still, held my breath, didn't move a muscle ... Why did I always have to wake up just when these dreams were getting good?
This was the best one yet. Rosalie in her trim white uniform just like Nadine's. Now I knew what had inspired me to have lovely blonde Nadine dress that way!
But Rosalie's gentle brown hand had untied the bow knot. My eager cock forced the pajamas open. Why couldn't it stand still and rigid like the rest of me, instead of throbbing, thumping, jerking upright with each heartbeat, threatening at any instant to end this delicious dream in another hasty trip to the bathroom?
"Rosalie, please!" I whispered. How could she just stay there smiling, bending over me, watching and waiting for my shame to explode?
But still, this was the farthest any dream had ever progressed. Never before had Rosalie untied my pajamas. Usually in my dreams, Rosalie danced around in some improbable costume-or she was so absorbed in reading or sewing she never noticed my daring hands exploring the shape, the feel, the firmness of those unbelievable man-magnets that made her simple white uniform so seductively erectile.
Now Rosalie was feeling me! Rigid with disbelief, willing, praying not to wake up, not to explode, I felt Rosalie's gentle brown hand closing around the head of my throbbing cock. Ooooooooohhhh Jesus, did it ever feel good! Rosalie was squeezing just as I did when I first learned how to fuck my fist. But did she have to squeeze so goddamn hard?
Rosalie's gentle brown fist was squeezing, clenching, pressing, strangling my struggling cock. Goddamn it, she was hurting! This was no dream. Rosalie was really here. She had her hand on my cock and she was squeezing the life out of it!
"Ow!" I yelled. "Rosalie, stop it!"
Rosalie gave my cock a final squeeze, dug a fingernail in its throbbing purple head, and let go. My wrecked erection dwindled ignominiously. My cock shriveled down to the little-boy's tally whacker it usually was. Goddamn! I hadn't counted on pain like this, hut suddenly I realized my dream had come true. Lovely brown-titted Rosalie had played with my cock, and it hadn't gone off in her hand. Suddenly, I dared hope. I knew all about fucking, of course. The only thing I didn't know was how any man could possibly control himself long enough to get his cock into a lovely young woman's cunt. Or an old woman's for that matter.
Just the thought of such a deliciously impossible experience was enough to put my eager erection teetering over a chasm of orgasm. But Rosalie had put her hand on my gun, and it hadn't gone off. Could I actually get it in her? Would there be time for one delicious lunge?
Would Rosalie let me? I still couldn't believe what had just happened. Was Rosalie playing games with a little boy, or would she let me prove I was a man? Whatever she planned on doing seemed to involve taking off her uniform.
I'd seen Rosalie's lithe, bikini-clad body tearing across the pool on occasion, but somehow, seeing her bend over, cross her hands, straighten suddenly and whip that skimpy white dress over her head-wow! Acres of suddenly exposed brown skin. Lovely, taut muscled young body, not a scar or blemish on it. Dear Old Dad knew how to pick them.
I wondered if I dared to grab a handful. If I touched one of those tender tits, would Rosalie stop undressing? Would I go off? My cock was throbbing again. A tiny clear drop formed at its tip. That young hog snorter was as hot to trot as if Rosalie hadn't just squeezed it within a tortured inch of its life. Hell, even if Rosalie let me, I'd never get it in.
She'd been wearing one of those new spray-on bras that came out just that year. When she peeled off the transparent film, I couldn't understand why she bothered. Her twin volcanoes still stood just as rampantly upright without that molecule-thick support. I reached for one. Rosalie smiled that same secret smile and danced out of reach.
For one horrible moment, I was afraid she'd get mad and put her clothes back on, but while I stared at those superb brown tits, trying to decide if her nipples were black or purple, Rosalie began a slow, sensuous slide out of her panty hose.
I just gave up and relaxed. Hell, I'd never get it into that unbelievably fuckable brown body. The first time she came within a yard of me, I'd explode like some un-likely fountain, firing gallons of come from my eyes, from my ears-Things like this didn't happen anyhow. This had to be a dream.
Believing that, I felt the throbbing ache lessen slightly. This, I later learned, was the essence of Life, religious conversion, or anything else. Just give up and take what comes. Surprisingly nice things come to the one who doesn't try too hard.
The nicest thing at the moment was Rosalie's firm, brown body. She climbed onto the bed beside me. After a moment I relaxed, accepted the fact that a lovely naked woman was actually here, in my bed where I had burned in solitary ardor night after frustrated night.
Rosalie kicked and the blankets fell to the floor. She tugged gently. Finally I came to, raised my ass, and felt my pajama bottoms sliding the rest of the way off. We lay facing one another, inches apart. My cock was throbbing, twitching, jerking. Rosalie moved imperceptibly closer and its tip began tracing slippery little snail tracks up and down her fine, firm belly. It was too much.
I was going to come. I knew I was going to come. I wondered if Rosalie knew about coming. Could I possibly explain to her that it didn't matter, that I'd be ready again within five minutes? Maybe the second time around my diddle-hungry dick wouldn't be quite so hair triggered. Maybe I could even get it in!
I was starting to explain all this to Rosalie when suddenly I felt her brown fist squeezing my apprentice ass jammer again. She was pressing my hard-on to death, mashing, squashing like some mad milkmaid with one fist while her other hand drove thumb and fingernail pincers into my tightly stretched foreskin. It was agony. But I didn't want to stop. If Rosalie's educated hands wanted to torture me, I wanted to suffer. Forgetting the stabbing pain in my cock, I buried my face in Rosalie's tits.
Like a hog rooting for truffles, I licked, kissed, nibbled, got my mouth over one purple-black nipple and, amazed, felt it swell like a miniature cock as my tongue ran round it. Squirming, I got another nipple in my ear. Moaning my delight, I cuddled, caressed, ran my eager hands over Rosalie's tits, delighted in the originality of my invention. Surely nobody had ever done this before. I decided to call it 'telephoning'. I knew nobody had ever done it before because it was impossible for anyone even to come close to this without exploding in a supernova orgasm. Suddenly I realized Rosalie's hands were no longer torturing my limber dick. And I hadn't come!
Finally I satisfied my curiosity about Rosalie's firm, fuck-provoking tits. I became so blase sometimes that I could keep my hands, my face, my mouth off them for ten seconds at a time! Gently, Rosalie caught my ears and drew my face to hers. We drifted together and gently bumped noses. Finally I got it through my head that you have to turn a little out of line to kiss. Just as I was getting the hang of it, Rosalie's tongue invaded me. I was so startled I almost bit if off. Then, feeling that smooth muscle sliding gently in and out of me, I experienced a brand new turn-on. My tortured tool revived and began stabbing blindly at Rosalie's firm belly.
A hand captured my cock before the erection was complete. Though my gash rammer struggled to grow, Rosalie's merciless fist frustrated it. It hurt so good I couldn't wilt. And yet it hurt just enough so I couldn't come, either. I was starting to hurt all over, aching from asshole to belly button, even my neck and shoulders aching from the strain of holding myself in. "Please, Rosalie, I whispered, "Let me come."
"Me first," Rosalie said with a grin. It was the first I'd ever heard of women doing that kind of thing. I was so astonished that for a moment my standpipe started to sit. Rosalie's skilled hand let go.
Her other hand pulled mine from its automatic exploration of her tender tits and guided it down past her deep navel, across the smoothly swelling expanse of her belly, guided my fascinated fingers through the crisp black wool on her mons veneris, through her lush pubic patch down to man's best friend.
Rosalie's tits, her tender tongue had so fascinated me I'd actually forgotten about exploring cunt country. Goddamn, it wasn't where I'd thought it would be at all!
When a man has a hard-on, his cock stands straight out. I'd always assumed all he had to do was walk straight into a woman and they'd snap together like two space ships docking. My frantic fumbling hands poked through Rosalie's crisp pubic patch hunting a hole that wasn't there. I remembered a hoary joke about the man who went to hell and found the hell of it was that none of the women had any holes.
Then, finally, my desperate digit found the upper end of her clit-slit. Barely in time! I'd been so frightened at the prospect of Rosalie not having a cunt that my cringing cock drooped lifeless. Now, running an exploring finger down the delicious damp, I felt it revive. Now what the hell was that little bump? Whatever it was, Rosalie moaned and giggled and opened her legs slightly so I could rub it again. When her clitoris was swollen firm and marble hard like the nipples on her well-kissed tits, my exploring fingers sought new worlds to conquer.
Finally I found it; warm, juicy, deep, inviting. My probing finger couldn't find bottom even when Rosalie spread her legs to make it easy. I got so interested in the job I squirmed around until I was peeking straight up Rosalie's rosy gash. It looked good enough to eat.
My God, what kind of unnatural freak was I? People made jokes about sucking somebody's ass, and here for a moment I'd actually been thinking about doing it! I wondered what Rosalie would have done if I'd planted my lips over that firm little knob in the middle of her slit and run my tongue up and down it the way I was tempted. Probably she'd scream and kick and somebody would come bursting through that door, and then-It was too horrible even to think about.
Instead, I kissed her crisp pubic patch, ran a burning line of kisses up her firm belly, stopped to auger my tongue into Rosalie's bottomless navel, then kissed my way up the underside of one of Rosalie's tits.
Rosalie laughed and squirmed. Her endless brown legs clamped in a scissors hold around my waist and prevented me from climbing her lovely frame any farther. We wrestled playfully, and between tit tonguings I swapped tongues again with lovely Rosalie. Squirming and sliding our skins together like amorous snakes, we learned the ins and outs of each other's body. Just as I was beginning to accept the idea that I could wrestle with a lovely, firm bodied young woman without exploding gallons of come all over the place Rosalie augured a tongue into my ear.
It was so unexpected. How was I to know what a woman's wiggly tongue would do to me? "Thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me, " Rosalie was murmuring.
I felt my rod starting to get out of hand. Goddamn, here it comes, I thought. Nothing could stop my spurting, squirting, hurting. Then, suddenly, Rosalie's educated fingernail did just that. She drove it like a spike into the crack just behind my balls. I would have yelled loud enough to bring the gatekeeper running if Rosalie's mouth hadn't fastened over mine just then.
Finally, the spasm passed. Guided unobtrusively by Rosalie's knees and elbows, I found myself getting into what I learned some years later is called "missionary" position. Kneeling between Rosalie's thighs, I wasn't worried now about coming before I could get it in. My problem was finding enough hard-on to keep it from bending double.
Rosalie wiggled her belly and worked her legs. I felt warm dewy cuntlips closing over the head of my bedraggled blunderbuss. Slowly, gently, Rosalie's capable cunt drew my frazzled phallus into her. Sucked it in. For a moment I lay immobile, resting on my elbows, savoring the feel of firm brown tits rubbing my chest, nipples rubbing little circles on me each time Rosalie breathed.
She moved, and I felt her tight twat sliding down my dong, pulling, milking. By the time she had slid my cock halfway out in that delicious, impossibly prolonged stroke, my drooling dick was ready for action. Goddamn, was I ever ready! Ramming for home I could feel my mind splitting in two-one half living the pure physical pleasure of this sensual slide down into the secret depths of Rosalie's salacious slash, and all the time the other side of my mind was exulting in the knowledge that here, now, at long last I was fucking something better than my fist.
I'm fucking! I wanted to yell it, proclaim to the world the simple animal pleasure of feeling my eager erection flog itself to death inside Rosalie's come drawing cunt. Any second now Rosalie's fingernail stabbed me again in that tender terminus between balls and asshole. I lunged, plumbed new depths in my eagerness to escape that drilling digit. I was up to the hilt, straining, feeling my prurient prostate gather forces for imminent explosion. But Rosalie's fingernail wouldn't let me back out for the final friction that would trigger my thrill drill. Locked in silent struggle, I felt the moment of frozen ecstasy slowly pass. Finally, that fingernail backed off and I could breathe again.
Rosalie grinned. "You only got so much," she said. "No use wastin' it."
Would she never let me come? Goddamn, the first come was only the beginning for me in those days. Since I'd turned fourteen a month ago, I'd been fucking my fist five times a day. Once, with my binoculars focused on Rosalie sunbathing, I'd whacked away on it for a solid hour trying for six.
And now I had it in Rosalie! Goddamn, I couldn't believe it. But it was pretty hard not to believe when Rosalie's endless legs were wrapped around me, drawing me in, guiding the length of my strokes, doing everything her sophisticated body knew to prevent my rambunctious ramming from ending too soon.
I was on top. I thought I was riding Rosalie, but soon I realized she was throwing me every way but off. Rosalie's arms drew me down, kissed me into a grinning, idiotic ecstasy, then pushed my head down where I could play a happily exhausted game of telephone while her fingernail toyed gently with the inside of my ear.
Like a metronome my ass rocked gently up and down, sliding my turgid cock slowly in and out of Rosalie's pulsating labia. She guided me in, she guided me out, regulating speed and length of stroke by subtle hints as her well-muscled muffin rose to meet me, held for an ecstatic second while my fluttering phallus decided once more not to come just yet, then gently, oh, so slowly, sliding apart until the head of my titillated tool was barely caught between Rosalie's purple pussy lips.
Hold again, strain and grunt in frozen frenzy waiting for Rosalie's expertise to allow once more that slow slide into the secret savors of her enslaving slit. Man, if this was fucking, why had it taken me fourteen years to get started? Hell, tomorrow I'd marry Rosalie. We'd go away together and dredge up another island. We'd go to another planet where there'd be just the two of us, and I'd spend the rest of my life just fucking Rosalie! I wondered if I'd ever stop long enough to get hungry.
My plans for an ecstatic fuck-filled future were suddenly interrupted. Rosalie's control began slipping. Her long legs were no longer guiding me, limiting me. "Aaaaaaahhh!" Rosalie sighed. Her ass began a rolling gallop, meeting my pounding pelvis in wild abandon. Once more I felt that preliminary prickle, and this time I knew I had reached the point of no return.
Rosalie was moaning, wailing, slamming her lovely tight ass up to meet my thrust. I got both hands around it and pushed, ramming, slamming, cramming my pile driving prick into her seething honeypot. "Oooooooh you muthah fuckah!" Rosalie wailed.
I buried my face in acres of brown tits, pushed, grunted, trying for another silly millimeter as my rampant rod exploded. Goddamn, did it ever feel good! Somewhere in the back of my mind I kept telling myself, "This isn't your fist you're fucking. This is Rosalie's cunt. You're really fucking. And in a minute when you catch your breath you can start it all over again."
"Ooooooohhh you little muthah!" Rosalie yodeled.
I was too busy savoring the feel of my first real orgasm, glorying in the spurting squirt as my passion pouch fired its precious load, emptying my cock, my heart, my soul into Rosalie's marvelous muffin.
My toes clenched. For a moment I thought I was going to faint from the sheer pleasure of orgiastic explosion. Then I was drained, sprained, hurricaned.
I must have slept a moment, because when I came to Rosalie was back in her skimpy white uniform. She had wiped up the worst of the unbelievable puddles of come and had the blankets back on the bed.
"Don't go yet, Rosalie," I pleaded. "Let's do it again."
"Don' you worry, " she promised. "We'll do it again."
"But I want to do it now!"
Rosalie leaned over the bed and kissed me. "I know you do," she said. "But you might hurt yourself. I'll see you tomorrow night."
"But how can I get to sleep tonight? " I wailed.
"Jus' close yo' eyes, honey."
And the funny thing about it, Rosalie was right. Slowly, I felt a delicious lassitude steal over me. The next I knew it was morning, and I had to go do some math with Miss Lasswell who had gray hair and imprisoned a faint musty smell in the corset that protected her never-been-used body.
Ah, Rosalie!
But Rosalie had gone the way of all flesh-the way I was going. Now old and dying, all I had left was my gardener's grateful daughter, lovely Nadine of the long blonde hair, the trim little twat, and the unerring instinct to make an old man's last days happy.
Call her a fortune hunter. Who cares? A bedridden eighty-five year old man doesn't get much chance to pick and choose. Even if I could have, it would have been difficult to find anything nicer than Nadine, cheerful, always there, willing to do anything. You just can't hardly get them no more.
CHAPTER TWO
I'd taken care of my dozen or so wives and children years ago, set up trusts to beat the inheritance tax. Staring death in the face, I had a choice between Nadine and a university for the rest of it. When had a university ever straddled my bed and dragged firm young tits across my lips?
But it wasn't until one afternoon when Nadine sat reading to me that I got my great idea. It was summer, and too warm for hose. As usual, Nadine had locked the door from the inside and shucked her white mini-uniform. This kindhearted child knew what a lift it gave me to eye that trim, thirty-four, twenty, thirty-two body with nothing hut long blonde hair half covering her pouting breasts. Around her bottom only a tiny wisp of bikini panties so sheer each hair in her dark blonde pubic patch was countable.
Now, you may wonder how I knew the lovely blonde Nadine was still a virgin. The simple truth is she showed me. When you re too old to fuck, the next best thing is listening to a lovely blonde child describe her own love life. Nadine didn't have any.
"You won't believe it," she said with that perfect and uncomplicated honesty, "But when I was a little girl and you were still a handsome seventy-five, something happened. If I were a baby duckling mothered by a horse or a collie you'd call it imprinting. But since I'm a girl, I guess you'd call it falling in love with you, Mr. Gast."
If I'd been able to move, I'd've kicked myself. When I was seventy-five, with luck I could still raise a hard-on. It would have been worth a heart attack to harpoon this lovely virginal little ass with Kelly P. Cast's last stand.
"Anyhow," Nadine continued, "I'm freaked on mature men. All through high school and college it kept me from getting involved with pimply faced adolescents. Now "Now what?"
Nadine shrugged. "Let's make your life pleasant while we can."
"But what when I'm gone? Really, Nadine, it'd bother my conscience to think of that lovely young body going to waste. Promise me when I'm gone you'll find the cleanest, handsomest stud available and make up for lost time.
"Oh, hell," I exploded suddenly. "It's nice of you to tell an old man bedtime stories, but I can't really believe a ravishing little rump like yours has survived eighteen whole years without once getting skewered."
Nadine smiled a secret woman's smile and stood, savoring the gleam in my eye as she made a slow, sensual production of sliding out of her panties. She climbed slowly and carefully over the foot of my bed and worked her way up, straddling me on hands and knees while my eyes feasted on those sensual jiggling cones that swung gently back and forth with each movement. Finally her pubic patch brushed my chin.
Nadine stretched, got my glasses off the nightstand, and put them on me. Then she raised herself until my feeble eyes focused straight up her gaping crotch, admiring an unbroken hymenal membrane. Goddamned if this unbelievable little blonde wasn't a virgin! Oh, if only I had the strength and agility to kick my own ass!"
Slowly and very gently, Nadine again settled her edible ass toward my face. In the nick of time her hand removed my glasses, just as that unfucked cunt settled down over the bridge of my nose. I got my tired old tongue working around her tiny clit, tickling it into rigidity, and knew as much pleasure as an old man will ever know when Nadine's thighs quivered. She giggled and guided a long little fingernail gently into the ticklish inner canal of my ear. For an instant I felt the old familiar tingle in my groin. I stretched eagerly upward. Nadine's comestible crotch settled just enough so I could run my tongue up and down her secret slot, titillating her tiny clit into rigidity, remembering those joyous days when I'd been able to dick a lovely pussy instead of just lick it.
If Nadine had really been a gold digger I'd've been turned off completely. Rich old men know about people wanting things. But this lovely child offered her unused ass and asked nothing in return. I decided to give her everything. I could die happy just thinking of this lovely young cunt surrounded by money, with time for pleasure. Nadine would never have to work, grow tired, wrinkled, desperate. My money could save her all that. God, if only I could be around to see her live, love, enjoy!
And then one day she was reading to me, and I suddenly knew I could. Oh, it was crazy, all right. I wouldn't really be there, yet, in a way, I would.
"Early in the 20th century," Nadine read to me, "These super polymers were made commercially available. Though still in use for certain products, rayon never captured the public imagination like nylon, which can stretch twelve per cent, has almost unlimited wearing qualities, and can be made of nearly any raw material. Though admittedly a publicity stunt, nylon, which is usually made of coal, has been fabricated from materials as diverse as compressed garbage and once even from a corpse."
Now I knew how I was going to achieve immortality. My lawyers wanted to have me certified, but I convinced them that, sane or not, I was still the only man empowered to sign checks.
Nobody ever found out exactly how I died, since Nadine naturally didn't want to publish details. She had warned me repeatedly that fun and games were not good for a worn-out heart but what the hell?
She made me comfortable, she did all the work, she gave me generous mouthfuls of her luscious labia to kiss and nibble. And lovely Nadine kissed the withered remnants of my cock, caressed my faithful family retainer until I actually had half a hard-on. It was a beautiful death, fitting end to a long, love filled life.
I can only guess what happened later. There is a long blank in my memory. Possibly mercifully so, since reducing my corpse into nylon must have involved boils and acids very like a God-fearing man's idea of hell.
When I first came to consciousness again I felt myself being gently stretched, pulled in odd directions. Then I felt Nadine's lovely legs passing through me, her ass filling me, snugging me up tightly. My entire soul, my being was filled with Nadine's lovely, firm young ass. I was now a pair of nylon panties.
More importantly, Nadine was keeping her promise. As long as she lived, she would wear me. No matter where she went, what she did or who she did it with, I would be there, if not stretched around her lovely ass, then draped over the nearest chair or bedpost. Wherever the action, there would be Kelly P. Gast, watching the joys of the flesh.
I hadn't expected it to be more than a symbolic gesture, yet here I was, without ears, without eyes, yet conscious, taking everything in, enjoying the sensuous feel of Nadine's smooth skin sliding into me, feeling the turgid bulge of her mans veneris press into my reinforced crotch. I savored the slight sweet dampness as her secret slit moved with each step. She was walking across the room now, trying to decide which dress to wear. She stopped in front of the mirror.
I studied her perfect, prick stiffening legs, her tiny waist, the gentle swell of ribcage, the sudden eruption of ski jump tits terminating in the most kissable nipples since ... My God! Since Rosalie? What had happened to all the thousands of girls in between?
Nadine sat before a wall-sized rose tinted mirror and began doing things to her face and hair. Down where I was, wrapped round her trim hips the view was nice. Like a Buddhist, all I had to do was look inward. My eyes seemed to be everywhere, both inside and out. I was seeing and feeling everything, seemingly plugged into Nadine's nervous system, for I felt not only her smooth luscious skin stretching me fuller than God's love; I also felt the soft, sensual pleasure her body derived from my smooth, wrinkle free perfection. She crossed her legs, and my crotch savored the sweetness of her comely cunt's virginal compression.
I could hear, too. There was a slight rustle, an electric hiss as Nadine brushed her blonde hair, a pain-pleasure prickle as bristles stabbed me at the end of each stroke. If heaven was like this, why hadn't those shitheads with all their churches figured it out?
Nadine was preparing her body with unusual care. What was she up to? Whatever it was, I was going to be there. Reveling in warm femininity, my mind wandered back to the old days. Rosalie-Now that had been a real fuck. Who came next? I tried to remember. Rosalie and I had consoled ourselves all that summer while Dear Old Dad spent most of his time off on the mainland making money. Then, suddenly, I was shipped off to private school.
Even at fourteen it struck me as an unusual school. I was the only boy. The rest of the student body-all three of them-were girls. I thought Dear Old Dad was nuts, but it turned out he thought the same thing about me. The school was a high-class funny farm where we were supposed to cure one another.
Brigitta was a full breasted, blonde-braided Valkyrie. By twenty, she'd be a dumpy hausfrau. But at fourteen-wahoo! I could see why her neurotic mother had wanted her in this deepfreeze.
I hadn't finished signing in before Brigitta had me in the hayloft over the stables. Since hers was the first white ass I'd ever seen, I was naturally curious. The matter-of-fact way she shucked her khaki blouse and Levi's threw my timing off.
Finally I decided the only thing to do was get out of my own pants before my rising cock made them uninhabitable. While I was unbuttoning my shirt, Brigitta went to work on belt and zipper. My tight fitting Levi's dropped slightly below my crotch before they hung up. I was wiggling my legs to get them down the rest of the way when Brigitta locked her thighs round my waist, her arms round my neck, and threw herself backward.
Hay, stickers, smooth white skin. I don't know if it was my beginner's luck or Brigitta's long practice, but my throbbing cock hit the bull's-eye squarely. As Brigitta's ass hit the hay, I collapsed on top of her, unable to soften the blow because her arms were wrapped round my own. I felt my lance spear warm, yielding flesh, driving remorselessly to the hilt in the hottest, juiciest, all-systems-go piece of gash since Rosalie had disappeared from my life a week ago.
Brigitta lay, arms and legs outstretched, quivering like a bull who's just felt the sword. Finally she released a long held breath in a shuddering "aaaaaahhhhhh".
I'd hit her ass so hard, gone in so far, my balls would die of strangulation if I didn't move soon. But at the first stir, Brigitta's finely muscled legs and arms clamped round me like a patent bear trap. "Not yet!" she hissed. "Don't move I yet."
Having spent a summer learning how on Rosalie, I was in no danger of coming. Hell, this had all happened so quickly I'd hardly had time to get a hard-on. But if it made this blonde-braided Valkyrie happy to believe she was saving my! come, teaching me how, I could go along with the gag. I lay atop her, not even putting my weight on my elbows. If she didn't want me to pump her, at least those tremendous pillow tits were softer than the hay. I eased my head gently j around until I had a nipple in one ear. Brigitta's arms I clamped frantically around my head. Her legs locked around my waist until I couldn't move. What the hell was she up to?
Then I realized she was listening. Outside the hay loft I heard voices. "Kelly, Brigitta! Where are you?"
It sounded like that prissy assed little fart with the beard who'd picked me up at the station. I lay quiet while Brigitta! gradually relaxed her death grip. She had a lush, lovely body f just coming to full bloom-a dirty young man's dream come true. She was so different from Rosalie, and yet Brigitta promised to give equal pleasure in her own way.
As her arms and lovely legs released their grip, her comely cock pocket also loosened slightly. I felt my balls squirm, revel in their newfound freedom as her ass moved a millimeter farther from mine. Then for the first time in my life I felt that indescribable grind. There's no name in English for that sensation that comes when a well-trained cunt starts using its inner musculature in a slow, rhythmic milk-squeeze calculated to drive the deadest dick into sperm spurting frenzy. I caught my breath, wrapped my arms around Brigitta's firm waist, drove my head between her tits, and my cock up to the hilt. I held in there, trembling, quivering, trying not to move, to savor that delicious internal massage as long as her quivering quiff saw fit to send me.
Slowly and very gently one of Brigitta's arms moved its! sinuous way down from my waist. A probing finger tickled its way down the crack of my ass, found the tender trigger behind my balls and began gently rubbing. We lay clamped against one another in frozen ecstasy, not daring to breathe, wishing that goddamn voice outside the stable would go away....
Suddenly I realized that voice was not yelling for Kelly and Brigitta any more. "Miss Nadine? " a voice said over the I muted hush of an intercom. "You ready now?"
"In a minute," Nadine said. She stood up, still wearing me and nothing else. After a moment she slipped a plastic hood over her head, then got into what on anyone else would have been a T-shirt, but was probably a Nova Paris original that had cost a couple of thousand of my ill-gotten gains.
Once the dress was on, Nadine removed the cape that had protected her makeup. Satisfied, she patted me and her tiny, tender ass. Suddenly curious, I activated my crotch vision. Well I'll be damned! Little Nadine had kept her word not to do anything until I was ready. That cherry I had licked so eagerly was still there. Would this be the night she broke it?
Nadine was radiant, youth and beauty personified. She floated across the room, taking slow, sleek steps. What the hell?
Aha! Low gravity. Now all those background whooshes, hisses and snickers came into focus. We were aboard a starship. Good for Nadine! If there's anything turns me off, it's a person who doesn't know how to spend money as fast as it accumulates.
Little Nadine, lovely gardener's daughter whose teeth I'd straightened, who'd returned that favor by chewing on my dying dick, ineffable Nadine of the long blonde hair and the irrepressible tits was going off on her grand tour.
And I had a loge seat!
Where would she go? Off to Antares to try out the gigoloids with their eggbeater cocks? Hell, every widow headed there first. With eighty-seven earth type planets to choose from, Nadine could surely do better than that.
Toward the end, when I'd been so weak I couldn't even muster energy to snap at her trim little jugs, Nadine and I had held long, fascinating conversations on the subject. With the universe to choose from, with twelve-thousand known ways and new ones invented every day, how should a ravishing eighteen-year-old blonde with ski jump tits choose to lose her virginity?
Nadine with her innocence, and I with all my experience, were equally at a loss. Most girls lose their cherry in some furtive backseat stabbing that gives their man little pleasure and them none at all. Those who preserve it for a gala production-a rape on satin sheets with champagne growing stale in one corner-don't fare much better. Girls are usually so worried about making their rapist happy that they have little time to think of themselves. When they do, they're usually just lying there, bleeding slightly, wondering why so damn much bullshit is written about something that hurts a little and would probably hurt more if it wasn't over faster than Bugs Bunny seducing a carrot.
Now Nadine was rich. What could money buy her?
The biggest cock would only hurt.
The handsomest male with the most sex appeal, best technique, greatest staying power? Any good-looking broad with a modicum of luck could get that for free. During my last days, Nadine read to me from Havelock-Ellis. We puzzled our way through Krafft-Ebing's dirty sock chewers. We put our heads together and I nuzzled tender tits while she read from the Kama Sutra, The Perfumed Garden, some of the Chinese works. Was there nothing new under the sun?
Apparently, the last new invention had been a couple of hundred years ago when an ancestor of mine added a new dimension to daisy chains when he wrote Zero Gravity Swap. Now every home has a zero grav play room. Ho hum. What's new?
For a virgin, it all is, I guess.
Firm-muscled Brigitta's dick devouring duff had been new to me. Lying motionless there in the hay I could feel muscles rippling up and down my fluttering phallus, milking, squeezing. There was a sudden pressure on the head of my cock, sudden sensation of tearing penetration as if I were breaking a new cherry way up there.
A sudden snap, as if a rubber band locked round the knob on my magic wand, then abruptly the sensation was unbearable-agony alloyed with pure indescribable ecstasy as Brigitta's cervix locked over my prick, drew it up into her womb, and a totally new set of uterine muscles, most powerful in the body, went to work on my shuddering jock.
Through my mind passed the fleeting image of an antique machine I had once seen. It was the kind of thing you put an ear of corn into. Horrible looking teeth revolve and strip the corn off the cob. If I didn't get my cock out of this bear trap soon, there wouldn't even be any cob left!
But it felt so good all I could do was grunt and strain and push and try to get in deeper. Brigitta accelerated my lunge with a finger up my ass at the right moment. It served as a trigger.
Had Rosalie ever been this good? Of course she had, but Brigitta was new; she was different; she was no older than I was. Yet I had the feeling we would each teach the other something before our relationship ended. The only thing she was teaching me now was how to come in great spurting passion filled gobs, blurting, hurting, squirting, exerting, wham, bam, thank you, ma'am! I was delivering a week's load, saved since the last time I'd poked Rosalie.
In the midst of it I took a solemn resolve to make this bitch dance to my tune the next time we made a crotch connection. This was fun, but after a summer with lovely, complaisant brown assed Rosalie, I'd gotten used to calling the shots. This goddamn blonde Wagnerian was fucking me! Not fucking me; I'd just been fucked!
I lay utterly spent atop her unbelievable body, trying to catch my breath, trying to think. I hadn't come so explosively since the night Rosalie had initiated me. And that goddamn Prissy beard was still yelling and sniffing around the hayloft like a yap dog. Finally he opened the door. I wondered why the hell he'd waited so long if Brigitta hadn't bothered to lock it.
He came in, followed by the rest of the student body-both of them. "Now, Brigitta," he said as he caught sight of our bare asses tangled together. "Is that any way to share?"
"I got my share," Brigitta said. She wriggled from beneath me and pulled her Levi's back up. "You can share what's left-until I want him again. By the way," she turned to me. "What's your name?"
"Gast," I said. "Kelly P. Gast."
One of the girls giggled. "Sounds just like Cal I. Pygaster," she said.
"The same. Nobody could pronounce it, so he changed it." While I was trying to get my Levi's up with one hand, Prissy beard captured the other. "Not the man who wrote-" he began.
"Of course not. The masterwork from the dawn of the space age was written by an ancestor of mine."
The girls goggled. "Your grandfather wrote Zero Gravity Swap?" one asked.
"My great grandfather."
She was a tall, barely nubile girl with a yard of straight black hair like a horse's tail down her back. I don't know what she'd been doing before somebody interrupted her, but she was dressed rather oddly in a puff sleeved, lacy high collared blouse which ended abruptly at her waist. From there down to the tops of her knee-high patent leather boots the tall, barely nubile brunette's gangly, nympho body was bare. Over her mons veneris she wore a crisp triangle of short black hair. That was all, unless you counted the pale spots where she had once sunned herself in a bikini. "What were you doing when you were so rudely interrupted? " I asked.
The other third of the student body answered. "We were coming to meet you, only Brigitta can run faster."
Gazing from the lanky brunette to Brigitta's strictly-for-fucking body, I seriously doubted that. But at least it was some kind of explanation. "What were you doing?" I asked the third girl.
She was small, brown-haired and freckle faced, not over ten or eleven. Her tiny body was just sprouting those little incipient tits that drive every sixth grade boy insane with the desire to feel one just once, just to know what it's like to hold anything so deliciously, so explosively and orgiastically feminine.
The reason I knew exactly what state of development little Ann's budding breasts had reached was she wore no more over them than she did over the wispy, just-beginning-to-grow hairs on her prominent little pubis.
"Do you mind? " I asked. Before anyone could say no, I ran one hand over her tiny tits while the other appraised her pussy, invaded her slender slit when Ann obligingly opened her legs. I ran a final finger along the tender damp, wondering if I was fingering a virgin. I was expecting Prissy beard to react, but he didn't. Ann spread her legs wider and favored the gangling brunette with a gloating smile.
Goddamn! If this was school, I wanted an education. If it was a nut house, what a way to go!
CHAPTER THREE
I was stretching, flexing, feeling my tight stretched fabric flow over smooth skin, the rippling muscles of Nadine's taut, tender terminus as she walk-glided down a low grav corridor from her cabin. Of course! Anyone with Nadine's kind of money always dined at the captain's table the first night out. If the captain was a day under a hundred, he'd do his best to solve Nadine's little problem.
When we entered the salon, what little I saw from glimpses as Nadine's micro mini fluttered was unimpressive. It was like any posh dining room on Earth. Seated at the table, Nadine spread her legs slightly so I could see. Goddamn, she must know I was conscious, was really feeling and experiencing everything she could let me see!
The captain's crotch retained its limp decorum while he conversed with the lovely Nadine. I didn't see his face, but his voice made me suspect he hadn't done anything more exciting than pull the wings off flies for the last forty years. Nadine crossed her legs and cut off half my view. It was more fun looking inward anyhow, feeling the pulse and flow of life's juices in her tender little twat.
Though her mind was on other things, her cunt was blushing, blood coursing through labia and clit as it had when I used to kiss this lovely snatch through a long afternoon's dying.
Somewhere in the back of her mind Nadine was thinking of what lay ahead. Or behind. I'd often wondered if she enjoyed an old man's nibbling on her, or if Nadine was just the soul and body of kindness.
"It's fun," she'd told me once. "You've been good to me. This is the nicest thing I can do for you. As long as only you and I know, nobody's hurt. Someday, if I decide to marry, I'll still have a cherry to offer. And meanwhile-oooooohhh! Do it again! Ooooooohhhhhh, that's right-way in deep like that. Ooooooohhhhhh, Mr. Gast! You really are the answer to a maiden's prayer!"
A wrinkled half-alive corpse. It had to be a put-on. But if it was, Nadine was doing it out of kindness or a really long shot gamble. Now, stretched taut around her virginal ass, seeing, feeling, smelling that lovely gash I used to lick, I wasn't sorry at the way things had turned out. If only I had some power of movement. If only my tongue could find all those secret triggers I used to know. Oh, well ... At least I'd be here to see somebody else make Nadine happy.
But who? There was a lot of wine consumed with this meal and, listening to the delicate little gurglings as it trickled down into my end of Nadine, I knew she was getting just the slightest buzz on. From somewhere out of my sight came the odd waiting like a teletype signal on audio which people of Nadine's age seemed to think were music. She got up to dance, giving me a delicious smooth warm feel of sliding skin as her virginal vulva changed position.
Nadine's skirt was so long my reinforced crotch could only catch from-the-buckle-down glimpses of her partner. He was too light on his feet to be the ancient captain of this interstellar bucket, but those were uniform leotards. It must be one of the ship's officers. I looked eagerly for the telltale bulge that might mean action, but if Nadine was turning this young man on, he was an expert at concealing it.
Finally the set was over. He returned her to her table, and as Nadine sat, her skirt hiked enough for me to see his face. Horseshit! One of those unbelievably handsome young men they hire aboard these buckets to stud rich old bitches. Definitely not the man to pick this luscious cherry.
Other candidates appeared, but Nadine's reaction was the same as my own. I could tell from the way her eager pussy lost its blush, slowed its juices momentarily and generally acted as old and listless as I had been a few weeks ago. Finally, Nadine returned to her suite.
Stooping, she crossed hands and peeled off the dress in one practiced motion. Sliding and stretching across the mouth of her disappointed cunt I nearly had the memory of an orgasm thinking, wishing I had power to stretch a millimeter inward, far enough to twiddle her ticklish twat into the clitoral climaxes that had lent spice to my dying days.
Naked of everything but me, Nadine flopped on her spacious, engineered-for-fucking bed. She lay, legs spread, face up, running thoughtful hands over the firm, upward pointing thirty-fours whose brown nipples had been my delight. Stretching, she pointed her legs at the ceiling, spread them wide, stretching and straining me deliciously across her gaping gash. Why hadn't I designed these panties with a tongue? Hell, why not a built-in cock? How many years had it been since my tired old cock had had its swelling drawn with a hot meat poultice?
Oh well ... I was here, wrapped around the source of life. That's more than most corpses could say. Suddenly, I wondered if life after death was the same for everybody. If so, those who believed in cremation were the lucky ones. Wouldn't a quick flame be better than crawling through the millennia reincarnating in worm after worm after robin after hawk after-No wonder primitive man had legends about hell. Then I realized the difference. I was boiled down and concentrated into a single wisp of rag around Nadine's comely cunt. No wonder I was conscious. The others were scattered in thousands of worms, grains of soot. My immortality must be unique.
Stretched across Nadine's gaping snatch with the overhead light filtering through my crotch, I was eyeball to eyeball (if either of us had possessed eyes) with that hymenal membrane I'd been too old and feeble to break. I willed myself inward, wishing for the slight stretching flexion that would let me move a scant hundredth of an inch, once more to kiss that ineluctable cherry.
Nadine sighed and put her legs back together. For the barest instant I folded and snapped inward, barely tickling her turgid clit before the panties smoothed and adjusted to her ass' new shape. Nadine started. Glancing down at her crotch she murmured, "Mr. Gast, you're really down there, aren't you! And you know what's going on. Dear Mr. Gast, you don't know how lonely it's been with nobody to talk to."
She sighed and spread her legs again. This time Nadine put her hand down there, forced her labia apart, and stuffed some of me inside. Hurriedly she crossed her legs, imprisoning some of me inside her ready rose.
I felt Nadine's blood, her fresh young juices flowing. I was surrounded by life, by love. I'd given lovely Nadine all I could. If only I could give her what she really wanted. The free flowing juice, love's lubrication, was flowing into me, soaking me. If anything could raise the dead....
I felt a soaked fold of me laying limp against her turgid clitoris. I thought nostalgically of the way my old tongue had savored life, giving that tiny organ my last lick. I had died reveling in the orgiastic quiver my tonguing had finally elicited from Nadine's virginal thighs clamped tightly over my ancient ears. What a way to go!
"Mr. Gast! You can move! Can you hear me?"
Nadine's legs flew apart in her astonishment. I was even more astonished when I didn't snap taut across her widening crotch.
Sonofabitch! Could I really control my movements? I tried and felt that damp piece of loose crotch rasp its way around Nadine's turgid clit. "Ooooooohhhh, Mr. Gast," she moaned. "Do it that way again!"
It was just like the old days. While Nadine squirmed delighted across the top of that immense fucking-is-a-major-industry bed, I experimented with my newfound mobility. It was funny. Now I could shrink and stretch at will, give Nadine lascivious little squeezes where I wished, grow flaps and tongues to tickle her tender spots. It was going to be a lovely night. I found I could make tongues, hands. Running a pseudo-finger up and down her slippery slot, my mind wandered back to the day in that crazy "school" when I'd first fingered eleven-year-old freckle faced little Ann's secret slash-and done it right in front of the teacher and assembled student body-all three of them!
Little Ann was still giving the tall gangling brunette that gloating see-what-I-beat-you-out-of smile. It was interesting to play with an undeveloped child's pussy, but when you're fourteen, an eleven year old looks even less fuckable than die does when you're eighty. Before the tall gangly brunette could huff off, I caught her by the inner thigh in a not-too-gentle horse bite. When she came willingly, I loosened my grip and began feeling my way up into the damp. And damned if it wasn't really damp!
I wondered if these girls were so starved for the sight of a boy, or if something else had been going on. Oh, well ... I could find out later. Running a probing finger up the brunette's vagina, I said, "What's your name?"
"Carol," she giggled, and clamped a hand down over mine. Apparently to keep me from pulling it out since she made no objection when I got another finger in. She was about fifteen, I guessed, nearly as tall as I, but built more interestingly.
"Pleased to meet you," I said. I turned to face her squarely, hoping she'd be friendly enough to grab my cock. Somebody grabbed my cock all right. It was Prissy beard.
"This way," he said when he'd gotten my attention. Once he was sure I'd followed without a leash, he let go and we walked back toward the main building, me still with a hand in the snatch of each of the girls I hadn't yet fucked.
I don't know if you've ever tried to walk with your hand in a girl's cunt. Even Carol, the tall one, was a trifle too low. To keep my other hand in eleven-year-old Ann's barely haired pussy had me waddling in a crouch. Even this wouldn't have been so bad if Brigitta hadn't sneaked up behind me at that moment and cupped my dangling balls in her hand.
There were thucks like twin champagne corks popping as cunts pulled free from my fingers. Ignoring me, Ann and Carol threw themselves atop Brigitta biting, scratching, pulling hair. Brigitta seemed an even match for the two of them. While I stood wondering where to wipe my sticky hands, Prissy beard fluttered and flabbed, making ineffectual cotton picking gestures as he tried to separate the girls. I headed toward the main building looking for a wash basin. Instead, I found a shower.
I was just toweling off when Prissy beard came in. From the way he eyed my crotch, I had a feeling it was going to be one of those days, but he just sat, waiting while I dressed. "I'm afraid we made a rather poor first impression on you, " he finally said.
Just as I finished dressing, all three girls came trooping into the shower. It was my first look at the tall, gangling brunette's tits. I ran a hand over them on my way out. In his office Prissy beard finally said, "As you can see, we're not really coeducational. We'll just have to work something out with the showers and all that."
"Don't I even get a room to myself?" Privately, I wondered what would hit the fan if some kind of state or federal inspector ever got wise to Prissy beard's therapeutic methods with these underage ding-a-lings.
But with time I realized he really was sincere in what he was doing. Prissy beard thought a large part of juvenile hangups were because kids at the height of their sexual potency had no legitimate release. Until I had come along, the girls had been bull-dyking each other, except when one of them managed to corner him. And since he really didn't go much for girls ... He offered to let me bunk in his room. I decided to take my chances in the dorm.
CHAPTER FOUR
That night we dined on oysters.
When I saw the dorm, I knew why. Around the walls were a half-dozen narrow cots. In the middle of the room was a huge round pad that looked like a gym mat-if you could imagine a gym mat with satin sheets. The whole ten-meter-wide circle was bathed in a dim rosy glow. Overhead mirrors were there to satisfy any latent voyeuristic tendency these bedroom athletes might have.
I undressed and climbed into a cot. Since Rosalie, I had given up pajamas for the dual reason that they always came off within minutes after I put them on and that, with Rosalie around, I hadn't been able to spare much jizz for wet dreams anyhow. It took little foresight to guess I wouldn't need pajamas here, either.
But I was tired after the trip and fairly well wrung out from Brigitta's friendly greeting. I turned my head to the wall and wondered how long I'd be left alone. Goddamn! The wall was mirror, too. No matter which way I turned, I couldn't avoid seeing that passion pad in the middle of the dorm.
Little Ann was doing back flips. From the leisurely slow motion way she floated through them, I guessed the gravity over the pad had been turned down to about one quarter. Her tiny nubile body twisted sinuously, graceful as a goldfish, as she pirouetted in the rosy glow above the pad, naked skin seeming to blush in the light's color. "Come on, Kelly, " she pleaded.
I pretended to be asleep. I don't suppose I was even fooling myself. Moments later Carol came into the dorm and sat before a section of mirrored wall. She was wearing the knee-high patent leather boots and a different blouse. I supposed after that donnybrook with Brigitta the first bit of lace had gone the way of all flesh. Still bare assed, Carol began brushing her long black hair.
The walls of this dorm were so full of odd curves and corners it was impossible to guess how many ways a reflection would travel. Meeting Carol's eye mirror wise, I knew there was no longer any point in feigning sleep. She walked around the wall and sat on the edge of my cot, still brushing her hair.
"Why the blouse?" I asked. "Your ass is nice enough to look at, but so are your tits."
"Really?" She acted like she didn't believe me.
"Good enough to eat," I reassured her.
"Would you?"
"Kiss your tits?"
She nodded.
"Any time," I said and reached for the buttons down the front of her blouse.
"Not now. Wait till Brigitta's here."
"Why?" I asked, beginning already to suspect I knew.
"She says they're ugly."
"She's full of shit," I explained, and reached again for the blouse.
Carol pulled away. "Wait till she can see you do it."
"You act like it won't be much fun for you."
"I don't know. I've never done it with a boy."
"You're kidding."
I saw the beginning of tears. "I haven't been near a boy since before they started growing."
I reached again for her blouse, this time grabbing a fistful of cunt hair with my other hand so she couldn't back away. "I won't do it," I promised, "Unless you let me start right now."
"You really want to? You're not doing it just to be nice?"
Now wasn't that a fine question to ask a stiff pricked fourteen-year-old boy? I climbed out of bed and made a ceremony of unbuttoning Carol's blouse. Beneath it, she wore no bra since her slight figure didn't need one. I could see how Brigitta, sure of her eminently fuckable body, would have enjoyed boring holes in this gangling child's woodwork. If they still knew each other five years from now, when Carol had reached full bloom and Brigitta was fat and sloppy, the shoe might be on the other foot. I sat on the cot again and pulled Carol down astraddle me, tucking my rising rod between my legs. When I fastened my mouth over her left tit and began gently nibbling her dark brown nipple into turgid erection, Carol flung her arms around my head, drawing me into her as she began sobbing.
I kissed her other tit and patted her shoulders and did the other things one's liable to do with a fifteen-year-old brunette wearing nothing but knee length patent leather boots. Out on the pad, little Ann was still leisurely doing back flips, putting her all into it whenever she caught me looking. Carol was still whooping and sobbing as if she couldn't really believe any boy would willingly play with her lovely shape-of-things-to-come body. I wondered if Prissy beard had planned on this as part of the treatment.
This cot was too narrow, and Carol, despite her gangling, slightly skinny look, was nearly as tall and heavy as I was and was cutting off circulation in my thighs. If I didn't move soon, I wouldn't be able to. I kissed her tits awhile, gradually easing myself into position, getting an arm and then a shoulder between her thighs. Then, suddenly, before she knew what was going on, I was lugging her in a fireman's carry over to the mat.
Stepping over its edge I stumbled and we lit in a slow falling, skin rubbing, prick stiffening tangle. From the top of a spreadeagled flip little Ann sighted me across the crosshairs of her just-sprouting snatch. "Bet you can't do this!" she taunted. I didn't know what she meant, and my mind was on other things, anyway.
Somehow in this tangle, I had ended up with my neck scissored between Carol's long nubile thighs. The more I twisted and squirmed to free myself, the tighter she squeezed, slowly and inexorably working my face toward her blossoming cunt.
You've got to remember I was still only fourteen, and though I'd sometimes secretly dreamed of something rather like this, Rosalie had always kept me so busy with fun and games that I'd never actually tried it. Somewhere in the back of my mind was the secret suspicion that if I ever did gratify my depraved desire to get my nose up some girl's savory slit, she'd kick and scream. Lights would flash, bells would ring, and sirens would wail. The world would come to an end, and the tooth fairy probably wouldn't leave any more dimes under my pillow. It was something of a shock when I felt a pair of lips locking around my own fast swelling phallus.
At first I didn't really believe it. I could see Carol's panting lips with only her tongue between them. She must have her hands on it. Then I felt the gentle, unmistakable nip of teeth. I flipped in the low gravity. Carol and I spun, leisurely turning through the air and, trailing behind us like seaweed on a fishhook, I saw Ann, mouth locked firmly over my cock. It felt good.
It felt so good I couldn't believe it! Little by little I'd gotten used to Rosalie's tender twat. If not used to it, at least the novelty had worn off until now I could sometimes pump away at Rosalie's brown ass for a minute or two at a time before her quivering cunt sensed the premonitions lunge that meant she had to cool it or lose it. Good old Rosalie's fun cooling fingernail had seldom allowed me to come before she did.
But now Rosalie wasn't here. Here I was the old pro, surrounded by amateurs, all apparently dead set on making me come with a violence that threatened to blow my balls off. Goddamn! Just try to remember how it felt the first time a naked little eleven year old wrapped her mouth around your throbbing cock. Try to remember the sensation when those teeth put just enough pressure on your foreskin to peel it back. Do you remember how it felt the first time a wistful, willing eleven year old's tongue went around and around the head of your cock as if it were a popsicle on a warm day?
Go it? If you remember, then you'll understand the sudden flaming need that assailed me. Poor inexperienced fourteen-year-old me, with my head trapped between longhaired, brunette Carol's grabbable thighs, staring at her gulping pussy an inch away.
With a sudden desperate inspiration, I jabbed a thumb up Carol's quivering asshole. She shrieked surprise, and momentarily her thighs flew apart. At that range I couldn't miss. My nose bashed the turgid clitoris in her gaping pussy.
My mouth met her vagina, my lips meshing with hers as my hungry tongue augured its way up her succulent slash, licking, nibbling, gobbling, inflicting on Carol's cunt the same tender tortures little Ann's eager mouth was imparting to my throbbing young cock.
After the first moment of shocked incredulity, Carol's thighs closed around my ears. "Ooooohhhh, Kelly!" she moaned.
"Ooooooohhhhhh!" She was crooning it now. The lyrics weren't much, but it sounded to me like a hit.
I was licking, chewing, sucking turgid folds of vagina into my mouth, savoring the tremors of Carol's shuddering thighs locked tight over my ears, clenching my ass to keep from coming as Ann's eager tongue rasped its mad, merry carousel around my cock. I had my arms around Carl's ass, forcing her legs apart, driving my face deeper into cunt country, savoring the secretions that my titillating tongue was teasing from her tortured twat. I was so busy burying my face in dreamland that I was able sometimes to forget the tender-assed child chewing my cock for as much as a second at a time.
Then, with a champagne cork pop, my knob was free. From the corner of my eye I saw little Ann spinning lazily away in a low grav cart wheel. When two muscular legs inserted themselves in the tangle of mine and Carol's I suspected who had torn little Ann loose from my cock and tossed her out of the game. When a hot, juicy, well-muscled cunt plopped rapidly and accurately down over my control tower, slid slickly down to squash my surprised scrotum, I knew.
So did Carol. "Brigitta!" she howled, "you miserable bitch! Why do you have to spoil everything?" Before she could get another line out, Carol's luscious ass, plus all the rest of her, went flying in the same general direction as little Ann.
Cheated of a cunt to chew, my cock needed no instructions to screw. I felt sorry for Carol and little Ann. I'd make it up to them later. But right now my cock was socked to the hilt in that same corn husky cunt that had made me explode that afternoon in the hayloft. I drove my head into Brigitta's fine, upstanding forties, grabbed double handfuls of that lush, perfect, unbelievable body and rammed, crammed, jammed, slamming my cock into her, fighting for every last fragment of pleasure before I exploded into one gorgeous skyrocket-bursting, flaming flash fire of come. I felt the first tremor, the first tiny spurt that heralded great gouts, jolly jets of jizz. And suddenly I was drowning!
What the fuck?
I was in a waterfall of some kind. Warm water was pouring over me. Then I realized I wasn't breathing, also that I was in no danger of drowning. How could I drown without lungs? I was a pair of nylon panties still stretched tightly around Nadine's trim, tender ass. Only Nadine was in the tub. After a moment I realized the bath in her suite had normal earth gravity, probably to keep the water from splashing too much. Nadine was still wearing nothing but me. I wondered if she was taking her promise never to take me off too literally; then, as her supple hands ran up and down her ass with lucky me between, I realized she was washing me out. After the way I'd pinched and squeezed and tongued her disappointed daisy into drooling delirium, my lovely Nadine, she of long blonde hair and jaunty jugs, had needed a bath and so had I.
Once while she was rubbing soap into my crotch, I nipped in and pinched her clitoris. Immediately it grew, throbbing hungrily in the warm water. "Dear Mr. Gast, you never give up, do you? " Nadine said fondly. But just the same, her hands slid under my waistband and I felt my stretched fibers relaxing as I slid off her ass, down over her pussy, down her long, splendidly tapered legs.
Drooping limply, I felt myself caught by one dainty toe. Nadine's delectable leg curved as she passed me from foot to hand. She started to toss me over from tub to basin, then stopped. After a moment's thought, Nadine kissed me, then used me as a washrag to scrub her jaunty little jugs. I'd wanted to feel those tender tits all day. Count on kind, thoughtful Nadine to remember!
She squeezed me gently dry then hung me over the towel rod where I could admire her perfect young body stretched supine in the warm bath. Nadine sighed. Poor Nadine. If only I had a real, man-sized cock to give her.
CHAPTER FIVE
Next morning, reveling in the glowing warmth of healthy young skin on a healthy young ass, I accompanied Nadine down a low grav corridor as she went to breakfast. She could have breakfasted alone in her suite, but there just might be some early-morning types about who she'd missed last night. Last night had been pretty much a dud. A fine thing when a well-built, lovely young lady with all kinds of money can't even find a man to fuck her. What was the universe coming to?
Breakfast was a disappointment, too. The only humans not too young or too old were a couple of gaudily dressed young men interested only in each other.
The universe had plenty of intelligent non-humans in it, but most of them breathe things even worse than Earthly smog and prefer to travel aboard starships with their own kind of air. There are a half-dozen humanoid types with earth type planets, and some were traveling aboard this ship. One was eating a breakfast that hissed and snapped and tried to eat him first. The two young men turned pale and left.
Nadine was made of stronger stuff. She drank orange juice spiked with a tiny dose of hormonorge. When it settled and the glow became manageable, she had black coffee and a broiled moonduk kipper.
Wrapped snugly around her ass, I went to work. Not turning her on-nobody needs distractions for the first few minutes while a dose of hormonorge is assimilating-but Nadine's morning dress was nearly as long as her gown of the previous night, giving me inspiring views of baseboard and carpet as she walked, with only an occasional straight ahead or behind glance as her stride lengthened. While she sat, I began gently running her skirt up.
I did this for two reasons. One, I wanted to see. Two, if there was a red blooded stiff pricked human male in sight, I wanted him to see Nadine's legs, drool over her delectable derriere. To put it succinctly, I wanted to see some action. Lovely, supremely effable Nadine had been aboard this bucket for over twenty-four hours and hadn't yet been propositioned.
The only things I saw were some decidedly anti aphrodisiacal non-humans. Jesus, some of these aliens! look weird! Over in the corner, one sat quietly alone brooding over something halfway between a coffee cup and a beer stein. He was seven feet tall, a dull, coal black all over, and he wore, as near as I could tell, a loose draping cape and a jockstrap. Looking at the bulge in the jockstrap, I wondered if he was male or female or either.
Nadine felt a sudden draft. She put her hand down and discovered her skirt was bunched around her waist, displaying her superbly symmetrical nates to whoever cared to look. "Mr. Gast!" she gasped, and pulled her skirt back down. The coal black alien glanced up momentarily at the slight commotion, then returned to his moody contemplation of whatever he was drinking.
Nadine briskly polished off her kippered moonduk, took a final sip of coffee, and left. After repairing her makeup in her suite she went to a lift shaft and floated up to the observation deck. 360 degree screens up there looked like windows at first glance, but they weren't, of course. Passengers aboard a starship had to be shielded from all sorts of unpleasant possibilities. Besides, these screens responded to oral command and could zoom instantly from pan to close-up.
Nadine stood, staring unenthusiastically at a panorama of seemingly motionless stars though the ship was moving faster than light. Wrapped round her ass, I could tell by her wistful cunt's twitchings, by the rush of blood through her turgid labia, that Nadine's mind was not on the stupendous spectacle of a manmade ship slipping through the universe. At the moment she would have been much happier with a manmade hard-on slipping into her. I began contracting rhythmically, squeezing her ravishing rump, giving her wistful clit a tender titillation just so Nadine would remember she wasn't alone. She sighed and stood with her legs slightly apart to give me working room.
I was just getting with it when we were interrupted by a low chuckle. "Tell me, how do you do it?" a man's voice asked.
"I beg your pardon?" Nadine asked.
"Clitoral orgasm with your legs apart. Most man-starved women get that ecstatic look standing with their legs tight together, rubbing one thigh against the other."
"One runs into all kinds of weirdos when traveling," Nadine murmured.
"Suit yourself," the stranger said. He bowed and walked away.
"Hair's thinning on top," Nadine murmured when he was gone. I suppose she was talking to me. I don't know who she was trying to kid. All that hot pulsing blood in her panting pussy wasn't just from me diddling around. She had been only mildly turned on. Now, with one glimpse of this thin-haired stranger who knew too much about gene-Sonofabitch! Any man who knew that kind of jazz had to be a gynecologist. He probably stared up more crotches every day than I used to manage in a fairly horny week.
Nadine must have figured it out, too. "They look at women from the wrong viewpoint," she groused. But I knew she was interested. I warped my largest panel outward, then flapped it inward to give her a friendly pat on the ass.
Nadine sighed and returned to her suite. She took off everything but me and spreadeagled herself on the bed again. She reached for a book. Midway through the first paragraph, she muttered, "I'll bet he has a string of wives and twenty-seven legitimate children."
Goddamn! My lovely Nadine was hooked. At last she was turning to another man-what I'd labored and spent money and planned for. And was I happy? Hell, no! Now who'd have thought I'd have turned out the jealous type?
Those girls back in that funny farm school I'd been dumped into when Dear Old Dad broke it up between me and Rosalie never took me for a jealous type. They didn't give a damn what I did as long as I did it with them....
I picked up my memoir in mid-orgasm, bouncing in slow motion about that low grav pad in the middle of the dorm with my cock locked into Brigitta's meat grinder while Carol and Ann shrieked their outrage, still spinning slowly through the air where Brigitta had thrown them. She was a well-muscled bitch. Especially inside, where her innards were busily shredding my skewer.
While I could still move, I backed out halfway, grabbed one of Brigitta's ballet-muscled instant-orgasm legs and passed it under my own out-flung extremity. This put us crossways, in the classic twenty-years-together-and-sleepy-but-let's-do-it-anyway position. But of course there just isn't any way to get in deeper, and if I remembered....
Even when you're young and flexible, it's a difficult maneuver without pulling out completely. Brigitta's built-in cock trap clenched over my throbbing knob, squeezing, stretching, pulling, doing her damnedest to prevent breaking our crotch connection. Finally, my leg was past hers. My head was barely inside her vivacious vulva. We were bounce-skittering around the satin pad, not hurting or straining thanks to the low grav setting.
Suddenly I realized how badly Brigitta needed this fuck, how suddenly and rigidly desperate she had become in the instant when pullout had been threateningly imminent. Somewhere across the pad Carol and Ann were picking themselves up, building their rage to murderous intent. I wondered if there were any blunt instruments within reach.
What the hell? It had been a pretty shitty trick the way Brigitta had broken up our party. She needed to be taken down a peg or three. And I had let her call the shots that afternoon, partly out of sheer stupid surprise at anyone turning on with a full fledged fuck without any buildup, and partly just because I was still a full-bagged fourteen and hadn't fired my load into Rosalie for over a week.
Now it was different. I'd scored once in this red-blooded, well-muscled tally whacker target only hours ago. And I'd satiated myself with handfuls of ass all day. Little Ann had sucked the first explosive violence out of my raging rod. I'd gobbled a luscious, juicy, still-growing cunt for the first time in my life. It had been quite a day.
"Now!" Brigitta was yelling. She slammed her ass toward me. I got my hands in and held us apart with the head of my cock still just barely inside her turgid, quivering labia. Across the pad, Ann's nubile body with its scant-haired pussy was in strange contrast to Carol's ripe brunette awareness. Suddenly, I realized that though Brigitta was quite a fuck what I wanted at the moment was to ram slam, cram and jam my cock into a well-haired brunette cunt that hadn't tasted raw meat since Christ knew when.
Though Ann's pale freckled body was in sharp contrast to lovely gangling longhaired Carol, their minds were obviously in the same channel. They were pulling the legs off an antique chair. From over Brigitta's shoulder I caught their eyes. I smiled, waved, and made a "cool-it" gesture. At first they didn't pay much attention. Then little Ann argued with Carol, and the eleven year old prevailed.
"Now!" Brigitta was shrieking. There was a ragged, hysterical edge to her voice.
"Everything comes to her who waits," I promised. Slowly, like the second hand on a clock, I began sliding my slam jammer into her slash. Bottoming out, I felt that second set of muscles around her cervix trying to open, to admit my probing prod into her womb. Before the trap could spring I backed out, still torturously slow. I rammed and reamed, poking my pecker into her from odd angles, slowly sling in and out, stretching her well-muscled muffin, finding unexplored corners, feeding new sensations into this Viking pecker-punisher.
And I could feel her getting madder by the minute. Partly, I guess, because she wasn't in control of the situation. Quite young in life Brigitta had accidentally discovered her one good trick-that corn shelling bit with the uterine muscles. I suppose it had given her a tremendous sense of power to fasten onto every cock that entered her, to lock a boy to her like a bitch in heat. For Brigitta, fucking had always been power. She had fucked but had never been fucked.
Little Ann and Carol watched with increasing interest. They knew Brigitta well, knew that incipient shrillness was anger, not joy. They waited to see what I would do next.
I fed her slow strokes, touching bottom each time but retreating before that cervical snare could snap around the head of my hammer. It was good fucking; I was really enjoying it. But I'd reached my second wind, and I knew if I kept out of that muscled cock noose I could pump away all night, enjoying the pacing of a fine, unhurried hump.
Brigitta felt otherwise. I wasn't sure when it happened, but it came much earlier than I had expected. Brigitta's anger cooled, became something else. Thinking back, I realize Brigitta had only trapped cocks before, squeezing and milking them, shredding male passion to quivering bits of exhaustion. Apart from a couple of quick ins and outs before her trap sprung, Brigitta had never been subjected to the remorseless, metronomic pumping that can turn on the deadest cunt if kept up long enough.
I felt her juices flowing, blood rushing through her box. Her superb control was flattering. Now that cervical snare was not snapping at me. Once, I got in, gave her womb a couple of friendly flexions and pulled out before bemused Brigitta realized I'd stolen her bait.
I felt her tempo quicken. Her ass began to bob uncontrollably, ramming against me, trying to speed my slow, piston-like pushing. I got her superbly muscled ass in both hands and held her immobile while I continued, auguring my erection into her creamy crotch with the absentminded inexorability of an oil well pump. "Please," die moaned.
"Pretty and with sugar on it? " I asked.
Brigitta gritted her teeth. I kept on pumping, running my rigid ram in and out. I was even farther from coming now. Brigitta's practically unfucked ass was loosening, relaxing, getting so juicy I scarcely knew I was in it. Soon she would be as helpless as a piece of living, quivering shish kebab spitted on my skillful skewer. I gave the waiting Ann and Carol a thumbs-up sign and slowed my pumping, pacing it until I was taking a full minute to screw my magic cock in and out of her tortured twat. Brigitta moaned and wailed, teetering on the ragged edge of her first orgasm.
Thinking back, I realize Brigitta had always been so busy mastering her men that she'd never had time to relax, enjoy, loosen the floodgates and let her superb body wallow in orgiastic abandon. No wonder she was nearly hysterical! I tortured her for another five minutes or so, holding her a cunt hair away from coming, feeding her those same deep, probing strokes, poking my pecker slowly in and out of that cervical snare which had now abandoned all efforts at capture. Finally Brigitta got it through her slightly thickened skull that I was in control of the situation and deliberately making her suffer. "Faster, you son of a bitch!" she wailed.
I stopped completely for a moment. Then, before she could cool it, I started again, just enough to keep her huffing, panting, wailing for the delicious release I refused to give her. "Please, " she whimpered.
"Pretty please with sugar on it?"
"Yes, yes! With sugar on it! I'll blow you; I'll kiss your ass! Anything!"
"I know you will, " I said. I kept on pumping, slow and sure as a mile-deep oil well.
"Now! Faster! PLEASE!" she screamed.
"Oh, I will," I promised. "I'll show you things that'll make this feel like squat tag in the asparagus patch."
"Quick, " she pleaded.
"First things first," I said.
"What?"
"You've got to do something else first."
"Anything-only quick!"
"Carol and little Ann," I explained. "They were like you are, just about to come. They come first, or you don't at all." I pulled out until my jack staff was barely parting the lips of this Valkyrie's vexed vulva.
"Those bitches?" she hissed.
"Take it or leave it."
There was a long moment's silence. Suddenly Brigitta threw her arms and legs around me, trying to ram me into her, trying to capture my cock in that cervical snare so she could dominate me the way she had mastered so many other men. I let her do it, poked around a couple of times until she was again teetering on the edge of a flaming abyss of ecstasy. Then I pulled out past her feebly fibrillating trap. Only this time, all the way out. "You better believe me, " I said.
Brigitta puffed and heaved. Angry frustrated tears ran down her face. She wiped them with the end of one blonde braid. "Oh, all right. Take care of them first," she said. "But make sure you save enough for me."
"I'm saving it all for you."
Brigitta stared uncomprehending.
"I'm tired," I said. "And you really don't turn me on all that much. But if you can treat those two girls nice-make them both come at least once, and I don't care how you do it, but only when they tell me you've apologized and treated them like human beings...." I pointed at my half relaxed cock. "Make yourself nice and cute and cuddly and lovable like those two, and I'll make a sacrifice." As I stepped off the mat back into full gravity I saw Brigitta glaring at the other two girls. Carol and little Ann were laughing. From behind the blonde's sagging shoulders, I gave them both the thumbs-up sign. Then I went to the shower.
A long hot shower gradually cooling to cold did wonders for my sagging libido. It was funny. Here I was, only fourteen, and had only really come once today, and yet I really didn't want any more. Was I over the hill already? I didn't know. My cock hung relaxed and flaccid, and I had a feeling I'd sleep tonight if anyone would let me.
When I was toweled down and was walking still naked back to my cot, I saw little Ann already asleep at the edge of the passion pad. Her legs were spread wide as if she had been well-chewed and left slightly sore. She was smiling. I guessed Brigitta had tackled the easiest half first.
Ann was only eleven. Chances were, she still didn't know what a real orgasm was. A few pats and kisses would make this lonely child feel warm and loved and that was enough to put her to sleep. Gangling, fifteen-year-old Carol was a year older than Brigitta and I. Something told me Brigitta had a lot of groveling and pussy licking ahead of her before she repaired trim titted Carol's damaged ego.
Carol lay relaxed, face up and legs spread, daring Brigitta to turn her on. I wondered who would tire first. Thinking happy thoughts of tomorrow when these three girls would compete for me on more or less even footing, I crawled into my cot and slept.
CHAPTER SIX
I awoke with an odd, stretched feeling. Then I realized lovely Nadine, Nadine of the long blonde hair and jaunty jugs, Nadine of the hermetic honeypot, untouched by human hammer was still dozing spreadeagled on the bed in her suite, wearing only me around her ravishing rump. Somebody was knocking on the door.
Nadine's startled jerk had brought me out of my reverie of fourteen-year-old fornications. She slipped into a mini robe that concealed her lovely upward-pointing knockers without cutting off my crotch's eye view. "Who is it?" she asked.
"Doctor Joris."
"Who?"
From the sudden quickening in her pristine pussy I knew that Nadine knew damn well "who. " I arched my crotch out and zapped it in with as good a whap as I could manage against her fluttery fuck box. "Mr. Gast!" she hissed.
Nadine opened the door cautiously. It was the thinning-haired charmer who'd interrupted my pitty pat against her quivering clit up on the observation deck.
"May I come in? " he asked.
Nadine tried to appear reluctant. "We may as well get it over with," she said, bored. "Then you can head for easier game."
Dr. Joris laughed. He was a well-built man of medium height, about like I had been maybe forty years ago. Looking at him through the gap in the front of Nadine's mini robe, I suddenly realized what had turned her on. Dr. Joris looked very much like I had back in the days when I still had a worldwide reputation as a millionaire cocksman.
"Are you a gynecologist?" Nadine asked.
Dr. Joris bowed again and shook his head. "A shrink," he said.
Nadine shrugged. "If you're more familiar with these suites than I am, maybe you can find a drink."
"Two Venus valentines," he said. Instantly a section of mirrored wall opened and two tall frosted glasses slid out.
"If this is an aphrodisiac, forget it," Nadine said.
Dr. Joris chuckled again. He was the chuckling-est goddamn man. "You're turned on already. Why invite a nuclear disaster?"
"What makes you think you know so much about me?"
"I'm a doctor."
"And I'm a nurse, but that doesn't mean we're a dirty joke."
"I know you're a nurse," Joris said. "I also know your name, who your last patient was, and approximately how much you're worth. I'm fairly well off myself, so, if you'd like to compare bank balances, I'll convince you I'm not a fortune hunter. As a matter-of-fact, I'm not even interested in marrying you."
"What do you want?"
"I'd like to know how you achieve a clitoral orgasm standing all alone with your legs apart. Secondly, if you're not already taken care of, I'd like to fuck you."
Nadine's eyes widened. "Such honesty is refreshing, and it saves time," she said. "What do you have to offer?"
It was Dr. Joris' turn to raise his eyebrows. Then he realized that Nadine wasn't asking for money. "Nothing that a million other males haven't got," he said. "Except possibly a little more experience."
"Are you a professional stud? " Nadine asked.
Joris shook his head. "Oh, let's say I accepted gifts from charitably inclined old ladies during my last two, rather hungry years of med school. Once or twice during internship, too, when I needed new shoes. But not enough to ruin my amateur standing."
I could hear gentle gurgles as sips of that tall frosted drink trickled down to my end of Nadine. Blood was rushing through her cunt like a spring torrent. Already a tiny trickle of damp was forming. I warped myself inward and gave Nadine's turgid clit a pinch, trying to get her to cool it until she knew more about this character. I don't know if it was something in the Venus valentine, whatever that was, or if this sonofabitch just bore too uncanny a resemblance to me in my heyday. But so far as defending Nadine, it was a lost cause. Her cunt was quivering, pulsating, almost whistling its flaming need.
Still, Nadine hesitated. Joris could have taken her right there. He could have just reached out and peeled that robe and me off Nadine's lovely, ready-for-action body, and she would have round heeled helplessly on the floor. Looking at his grin, I knew he knew it, too. Instead, he did a far more insidiously evil thing. "Let's not take advantage of one another," he said. "There's a pool two levels up. Meet me for a swim in ten minutes?"
Nadine gave him a mute nod.
"Don't do it!" I wanted to yell. "Stay away from that bastard. He's trouble. I know it. I know it because he's too much like me-like I used to be." But I had no voice-no way to make Nadine hear me. Helplessly, I watched while she fluttered around trying to make up her mind what to wear. Finally she realized her robe was adequate for the walk to the pool. Beach fashions were topless again that year so ... Nadine studied herself in the mirror and realized I would do.
"Now Mr. Gast, " she remonstrated, "if I wear you to the pool, promise you'll behave yourself. Don't go pinching and poking and embarrassing me where everybody can see."
I gave her bottom a reassuring pat.
The pool was something else. It wasn't the warm, seraglio bath you might expect aboard a starship where everything else seemed engineered to foster a fuckfest. This pool was cold, like the ocean during an English summer. Salty, too, with a faint odor of kelp and iodine. Nadine dived into it, and even I felt the thermal shock. Instant goose bumps formed on her lovely ass. She swam rapidly across the pool, kick turned and raced back to the deep end. Just as she was arriving, a head appeared from underneath and forced itself between her legs for a quick toothy nip at her honeypot.
Feeling Joris' teeth nip through my double reinforced crotch, I wanted to do something surprising and unexpected, but he was gone before I could. "Mr. Gast, now stop it!" Nadine hissed. Then the good doctor's grinning face appeared beside her, and she knew it wasn't my doing.
"Who's Mr. Gast?" he asked. "Oh, yes," he remembered.
"Do you have to do things like that where people can see? " she asked.
Dr. Joris' smile continued undiminished. "Look around," he said.
Evidently most of the humans and non-humans aboard were from colder planets, for they lounged about as if these brisk waters were tropical. They did other things tropically, too. They were doing them so intensely no one could have spared time for the doctor's harmless little peccadillo. As I watched, the two gay boys we'd seen at breakfast fastened together in a head to tail (more or less) arrangement and went threshing about in a yin-yang tableau, happily nibbling on each other's yins. To one side of the pool, the coal black seven-foot-tall alien in black cape and jockstrap morosely observed the festivities but did not participate. I wondered if he was curious, wistful, or just disgusted.
Dr. Joris wasn't wearing much more than a jockstrap. As a matter-of-fact, it was a little less. He was wearing what anthropologists used to call a "cod piece" woven of rattan. His balls hung out in the open like a New Guinea savage of some hundreds of years ago. His cock was stuffed into the penis sheath which was strapped down by a cord around his waist. Its exaggerated length ended slightly above his left nipple.
Nadine playfully grabbed the tip. Her eyes widened. "Ow!" the good doctor yelled. "Next time warn me."
"I don't believe it," Nadine said. Then a moment later she added, "Are you human?"
Dr. Joris gave his irritating chuckle. "Right to the tip," he said. "Human, male, and rarin' to go."
"Not a chance," Nadine said. "That'd kill me."
Joris laughed louder this time. He shrugged and jerked the rattan sheath off to display a normal human dick, about seven inches of good, solid hard-on. Even I was impressed when he dived, rolled and sun fished slowly so the first four inches of it came out of the water and circled Nadine like the fin on a killer whale. The black alien gave one interested glance and returned to his own alien thoughts.
Nadine's nurse's hand reached out, flicked the tip of Joris' cock with a fingernail, and laughed as it shriveled. Joris surfaced and blew. "My room, yours, or right here?" he asked. He and Nadine faced each other, treading water. As he asked, the doctor reached down with one hand and cupped Nadine's goose pimpled gash.
"I hate to spoil things at this stage," Nadine said.
"It's not that time of month? " the doctor asked.
Nadine shook her head. "I'm a virgin."
"Everybody is, once." Clearly, the doctor didn't believe her.
Nadine shrugged. "My place, then." She climbed from the pool and hurried back to her suite. She was showering, washing the salt from herself and from me, when the knock came. "Come in," she called, "Make some drinks."
I still didn't know about this doctor Joris. He sounded honest and aboveboard. Maybe he was the right guy. Was it just plain jealousy on my part? After all, I'd spent quite a lot of time, money and ingenuity fixing things so I could have a ringside seat when my lovely blonde-haired Nadine lost her cherry. Why was I reluctant?
I had wild thoughts of locking myself around Nadine's ass, blocking entry to her pristine pussy, and to hell with this stranger. But on second thought I could visualize an outraged virgin scissoring me into ineffectual scraps and putting an end to my voyeuristic voyage to wherever Nadine was going. It wasn't worth the risk. Besides, before I could make up my mind Nadine had already peeled me off. Dear thoughtful child, she wrung me out and draped me over a chandelier where I had an uninterrupted view of everything in her suite. She came into the bedroom and accepted a drink.
Her eyes met Dr. Joris'.
"Why did Kelly P. Gast leave you the bulk of his fortune?" Joris asked.
Nadine looked at him coolly. "I used undue influence, seduced him, pandered to his depraved pleasures and got his senile signature on the necessary papers by every foul means. " Up on the chandelier, I wished I still had lungs so I could guffaw at the look on Dr. Joris' face.
"Touche," he finally said.
Joris had showered too, and wore a glorified jockstrap.
They faced each other with hushed expectancy, each waiting for some hidden sign. Nadine was wearing a peignoir just transparent enough to make it obvious that she was wearing nothing else, not even me. Huddled shapeless and alone from the chandelier, dripping, I felt suddenly out of it all. It reminded me of the next morning in that weird funny farm cum school where Dear Old Dad had dumped me when my fourteen-year-old cock had poached on Rosalie's trim brown ass.
CHAPTER SEVEN
After the night I gave Brigitta her comeuppance, the three girls were very chummy. On the surface, at least. I wondered how long it would last. I hoped long enough to give my poor, dry balls a rest. Still, there was an odd letdown feeling at the knowledge that they weren't panting around, drooling for a little phallo-therapy. By mid-morning my fourteen year old metabolism had recharged my batteries until I was walking around with my usual half hard-on, feeling as if I'd just returned from a four-year whaling expedition and looking for a passable pussy.
All three of them were passable, but now Brigitta and the other two girls, her former victims, had formed a closed corporation, and I was on the outside. Someone, it seemed to me, was using undue influence. And since little Ann and Carol had no reason to be bent out of shape with me, it wasn't hard to guess who that someone was. Brigitta, long braided Valkyrie, eminently fuckable, muscle cunted and arrogant, Brigitta of the burgeoning forties and corps de ballet legs was out to torpedo me just as I had harpooned her ego last night. I wondered what she would try next.
Noon came, and we gathered for lunch. Nothing happened. All three girls were polite and friendly and treated me like a visiting delegate to some surrealistic Baptist convention. I ate the nameless crud called lunch and played the game, giving no sign that I was eager for anything apart from the salt and pepper.
There didn't seem to be much formal curriculum around here. From time to time the girls would corner Prissy beard and rap with him, sometimes in the open, sometimes in the privacy of his office. None of them came out looking fucked. I wondered when he would start prying into my skull, for by now I realized these kids were all ding-a-lings. So, by association, somebody (namely Dear Old Dad) must think I was, too. I wondered if it was because I started jabbing Rosalie when I was barely fourteen or because I'd waited so long. Come to think of it, I'd been raising pretty respectable hard-ons at twelve. Why had it taken so long?
It was a warm, sunny day. I'd been walking around naked since everyone else seemed to do it. Thinking of those golden months with brown assed Rosalie, my flagpole began jerking its way to attention. To hell with it. I walked back to the dorm, intending to put on some Levi's so I could ride one of the horses. Little Ann was there alone. Today she was wearing ragged, ill fitting shorts. Still nothing over her just-beginning-to bud breasts. "Hi," she said.
"Hi," I answered and poked through my locker looking for Levi's.
"We're leaving you strictly alone," she said, and immediately acted as if she had had a secret pried out of her.
"Oh?"
"Brigitta thinks you'll come off your high horse when you need us bad enough."
"Oh? Which of you gets me first when the boycott ends?
Brigitta first, just like always?" I pulled my Levi's and went off toward the stables leaving a very thoughtful little eleven year old behind me.
There were four nags in the stable, each more tired and sleepier than the other. I got a bridle on one and led it outside, not bothering with a saddle. This place was miles from nowhere. Even the sky was practically empty of flyers. I whacked reins over the roan's rump and coaxed a reluctant trot out of it.
I hadn't gone more than a mile before I heard horses galloping behind me. Screw them. I decided to let them work for it. I whacked the gelding over the ass and finally convinced him a leisurely gallop would be in his best interests. Two miles down the trail I came to a brook. I forded it and trotted a quarter-mile downstream. There the water deepened into a pool. I saw a trout at the bottom. He saw me, too, an instant before my bare ass hit the water.
I was climbing back into my Levi's when I heard the horses again. I thought about taking them off so they could catch me naked. But why? If Ann and Carol were stupid enough to let Brigitta bully and con them, it was no hide off my ass. I'd screw Brigitta instead.
My horse gave a Bronx cheer. The others answered, and a moment later three horses came in view. But only two girls. Carol was leading one horse. I looked a question.
"Bolly's skittish," Carol explained. "We were afraid he might run off and leave you stranded.
Assuming Bolly was my gelding, he was about as skittish as an anvil. I wondered if he had energy enough to find his way back to the stable. I slipped the bridle off and slapped him.
"Don't!" little Ann wailed. "If Brigitta gets a horse she'll spoil every-" the tiny, freckle-assed eleven year old slapped a hand over her mouth. I grinned at Carol.
"Did Brigitta treat you right last night?" I asked.
"She blew us," Ann said. "Usually, we have to do it to her."
"Was it fun?"
Carol shrugged.
"Why do you let her bully you?"
"She's stronger," little Ann said.
"So strong you can't leave teeth marks on her?" I asked. "Brigitta needs you-both of you. She needs me, too. Shut off on her, and you'll have her on her knees quick enough."
"It sounds good," Carol said. "But once she starts talking, things never come out the way I plan them."
That had happened to me on occasion. "Well," I said, "Now that we're all here...."
Little Ann shucked out of her ragged shorts. That left her with nothing but a slight sunburn and a few wispy hairs on her pumpkinseed pussy. Looking at it, I wondered if it would be possible to get a mansized prick into her without splitting her in two. She began fiddling with the buttons on my Levi's.
She was a good-natured little kid and basically on my side no matter how Brigitta conned her. I sucked in my belly to make it easy for her. Looking at Carol, who wore Levi's and a blouse plus boots, I asked, "Waiting for an engraved invitation?"
Carol looked wistfully at me, incipient tears in her eyes.
"No man has ever undressed me, " she said.
Well I swan-and fifteen already!
Little Ann finally figured out the buttons. I let her strip my pants off. Then I went to work on Carol's. I peeled off her Levi's first, assuming she placed less importance on them then on the blouse since she ran around bare assed a lot oftener than she did barefooted.
Though the overall effect was a gangling and slightly charming awkwardness, Carol's trim little ass bulged enough to make her Levi's harder to get off than mine. By the time I had knelt and pillowed my forehead against her mons veneris while stripping off one leg, then the other, my cock was rising to the occasion.
Finally the three of us were naked except for Carol's blouse. Carol and Ann spread a blanket on the smooth grassy spot beside the pool. I caught Carol from behind, turned her around, and made a cinerama production of struggling with each button of her sheer white blouse, copping feels in between, really hamming it up. Little Ann started laughing. Finally, Carol laughed, too.
I got the blouse off and made Neanderthal noises while devouring her trim little tits. They were really nice. Not super colossal like Brigitta's; Carol's tits were just ripening. They were just about as big as a fifteen-year-old girl's firm young bazooms can grow before their undersides start sagging. Still perfect cones like some improbably exact picture book volcano. I licked her nipples, nibbled on them, chewed as hard as I dared without hurting her.
Carol gurgled and moaned and made noises like a plugged drain. I slid a hand into her honeypot, felt the damp, and knew she was not putting me on.
This time little Ann didn't start blowing me like last night. Out here the light was brighter, so she satisfied her curiosity with gently handling my balls, watching them roll and squirm. She ran a curious finger along the underside of my cock and giggled at it jerking in tune with my quickening pulse. Gently, she played with my foreskin, tugging on it, watching it spring back, peeling it slightly, giggling again at my cockhead's angry purple. She was the most curious little girl.
How does one man satisfy two girls at once? The only answer I know is inadequately, unless he has two cocks. But after due reflection, I realized I actually had only about one and a half girls. Whether little Ann was fuckable was problematical. Whether she really wanted to be poked was another question.
"Have you ever? " I asked.
"What?"
"Fucked." What the hell did she think we were all out here naked on a blanket for, a Sunday school picnic?
"Not for years," she said.
She couldn't be over eleven. "How old were you when you started?"
"Six."
My God-I'd waited til I was fourteen! I was really out of it!
"A big boy next door raped me, " Ann said.
"Did he get it all the way in?"
"I don't know, but he got it in enough for me to hurt and bleed and go to the hospital."
Goddamn! "How much have you gotten since then?" I asked.
"None at all until I was nine. That time he was a little kid, only about twelve. We tried every day for a couple of weeks before he could even get it in."
I grinned at the idea of a twelve year old's hard-on spurting all over little Ann's ass, grunting, struggling to control himself, mouthing a twelve year old's cuss words as his dick went limber one more time. It was enough to undermine a would-be cocksman's confidence.
"Then one day Momma caught us, and I've been here ever since."
Short, sad story. "I suppose you want to try it again," I said.
"Oh, golly, yes!"
All this while I'd been caressing Carol's gangling body, feeling her lovely half-grown tits, running a gentle finger up and down her misty twat, chewing a nipple now and then. My pile driver was running a full head of steam, jerking gently up and down in time to my heartbeat. "You sure it won't hurt you? " I asked.
"I had one almost that big two years ago," little Ann said.
The twelve-year-old cocksman's stock went up several points in my mind.
Carol had been following the conversation. She'd also been squirming and moaning just the tiniest bit each time my hand or tongue hit a tender spot. "How about you? " I asked. "I don't want to play you two off against one another, but somebody has to come last. You decide."
"Let Ann have it," Carol said promptly.
"Oh, no, Carol can go first," Ann said.
Carol was starting to protest again, when I realized this could go on all afternoon. I got a hand on Carol's lovely, full-of-promise boob and pushed her down on the blanket. Before she could protest any more, I was between her legs in the classic missionary position. Poising, I worked the tip of my tool between her labia, moved it up and down a couple of times to make sure everything was lubricated, then I pushed.
Not a footballer's scrimmage ram. Just a slow, gentle, leisurely insertion. A long hissing sigh came from Carol, as if I were pushing an ice pick into a tire. "Oooohhhhhh, Kelllllllyyyyy," she moaned. Tensions drained from her in instant orgasm. Her whole body relaxed, sagging like a deflating life raft. Even her tireless non-sagging tits seemed to deflate slightly. "Ooooohhhhh, " she sighed, "it feels so gooooood!"
And I hadn't even hit bottom with my first stroke yet! "When did you get dicked the last time? " I asked. She was so wiped out, so totally relaxed, there was no point in poking. I just lay atop her, resting my weight on my elbows while I kissed her, swapped tongues for a moment, then arched my neck to kiss her flattening nipples back into some semblance of life and or lust.
Carol's long black hair lay loose over her shoulders. She wiped her eyes with a handful. "You're the second man I've ever known," she said. "The first was only once, and that was years ago.
"We used to live together in the same building," she continued. "For as long as I could remember. He was wonderful-everything a little girl could want. He bathed me, dressed me, fixed my dolls, fed me, made sure I got off to school on time, and was always there to make sure I got home safely.
"You know how it is when you're little. You're so used to adults handling you, forever cleaning, wiping, dressing. Children think nothing of it. Now I can realize how lonely he was. He had enough money so he didn't have to work. He must have been a very shy person, because I don't ever remember a single friend visiting him. His whole life was wrapped up in me, in my school, my grades, my clothes, my dolls, in me.
"I used to spend hours on his lap, being cuddled, listening to stories, just feeling his warm loving arms around me. When I was little, I liked to splash in the bathtub. He got tired of getting wet every time he bathed me, so finally he got in the habit of taking his own clothes off and getting in with me. We used to have such fun together.
"Lots of times, what with the warm water and everything, I suppose he used to remember things that used to be. Anyhow, I was used to seeing his thing get big and swollen all the time. He wasn't self-conscious about it, so neither was I. Sometimes I would grab it. He would just laugh. Sometimes he'd grab me back, run a playful finger through my crotch, just once.
"It was all so innocent. Then, when I was eleven, my breasts started growing. I had a few black hairs sprouting down there. We were still taking baths together. I guess I should have started being embarrassed, but everything was always so relaxed, so natural between us.
"One day he must have been feeling particularly sad. I suddenly realized it had been a long time since we had really romped around together, play wrestling as we dried off, snapping towels at one another. His thing was just hanging limp and sad. I grabbed it. Suddenly he got a funny look in his eyes. I felt it swelling. "You shouldn't do that," he said.
"Why?"
"Because if you do, I'll do this!" He grabbed me down there, and then we were laughing and wrestling just like we used to. Only now I was feeling funny. You know how you feel when you blush-all warm and tingly? My whole body was feeling that way. All at once I wanted him to grab me again down there, to hold on, to rub me, to-I didn't really know what I wanted. Maybe if I grabbed him again, he'd take the hint.
"I did and he did. There was a troubled look about him, but all he said was, "Dear little Carol. I've always given you everything you asked for. Are you sure you want this?"
"I nodded mutely, too blushingly, tinglingly turned-on to speak. "So be it," he muttered, and began kissing me.
"He kissed my lips. He kissed my eyes. He kissed my nose. He kissed my neck and shoulders. I was burning, tingling, not really understanding it but knowing this was the nicest, dearest, warmest thing that had ever happened to me. He kissed my tiny little breasts and laughed when I goggled at my rising nipples. He kissed my flanks and made me giggle. He kissed my navel and I could feel my insides turn over in a great burning wave.
"Feeling him kiss his way down my belly, across my new sprouted hairs, I suddenly realized where he was going to kiss next. Then, to my disappointment, he skipped it. He kissed the soles of my feet. He kissed my ankles, my calves. I squirmed and wiggled, feeling fire course through me as he kissed the backs of my knees.
"But I was still disappointed because he hadn't kissed where I really wanted him to. Maybe if I hinted by grabbing his thing. I opened my eyes and saw it, looking purple and angry, bigger than I'd ever seen it. I tried to reach it, but he was too far away.
"Then, suddenly, I realized he was kissing his way back up. He was kissing the backs of my knees. He rolled me over, face down, and kissed his way up the backs of my legs. I thought he'd hit it this time but he kept right on going, kissing my behind and giving it little pats as he worked his way up my waist, going down each side to the ticklish places in my ribs, then lifting my hair to kiss the nape of my neck.
"Finally he turned me over, face up again, and kissed me on the lips. His tongue invaded me, and after the first startled moment I gave my own tongue back to him. New waves of fire passed through me as I learned this game. Then he was working his way down past my tender new breasts, raising their delicate nipples again, kissing his burning path across my belly, across my pubic mound.
"Then, damn it, he skipped down to my feet again, kissing his way slowly back up into the backs of my knees. I reached again for his great purple throbbing thing, but once again I couldn't reach it. Suddenly he was kissing my inner thighs just above my knees. He was working his way toward the burning, yearning part of me that suddenly so needed to be kissed.
"His breath came shorter than my own as his burning kisses worked their way nearer to the flaming center of my desire. I felt his hot panting breath warming my flaming flower.
"Then, suddenly, he was there! His lips locked over my own open lips, sealing us from the air and light, locking us into a private universe where everything was encompassed in that agile tongue turning me on, tenderly titillating my clitoris, leaving it turgid and burning while his tongue diverted its attention, invading my virginal vagina through the tiny opening beneath my hymen.
"I felt the pressure on my cherry, but his tongue was kind and gentle, never forcing itself where it wasn't wanted. Slowly, in a red mist of passion, I realized he was gradually turning around, gently prodding and moving my blazing body until I lay on one side and he could pillow his busy head on one virginal thigh. I opened my eyes and there was his thing, pulsating, angry, purple, throbbing scant inches from my face.
"I put my hand on it, felt amazement at how hot it was. Were my dewy nether lips that hot to his tender tongue? He felt my hand caress his thing. He felt my curious finger stroke that thick throbbing string-like vein on its underside that seemed to control its pulsating jerk. His thighs lunged involuntarily forward. I ducked as his thick old thing jabbed straight at my face. Then, knowing what he was doing for me, I knew I must do the same thing for him.
"I opened my mouth wide and took his hot and heaving thing inside me. How hot it was! His thing was throbbing and jerking in time to his heart, in rhythm with his burning kisses and tonguings in my radiant rose. I ran my tongue over his thing and nothing happened. I pursed my lips, moved my head back and forth, and still nothing happened.
"What was I doing wrong? I tried biting it gently. From the way he winced, I knew I'd bit too hard. I ran my tongue around it again. Should I swallow it? I couldn't get it in any deeper or I'd choke.
"I was becoming desperate when I felt his hand. He reached between us and peeled back his foreskin, caught one of my hands and guided it to that tender spot behind his balls. He ran his other hand gently, tenderly up and down between my two openings until I understood what to do. If my hand on him could make him burn and tremble like his on me ... His hands stopped their teaching. His arms wrapped around my bottom as he drew his face deeper into me, kissing me, licking me, tonguing me, pulling the secret triggers that were driving me out of my mind, out of my soul with pleasure like I'd never dreamed of before.
"I was panting, gasping, dying! Heat waves, balls of fire, lightning flashed through my body. I felt my thighs opening and closing, clamping down over his ears, reveling in the feel of his head between my legs. It was like the first time I'd ridden a bicycle, only a thousand times nicer.
"Suddenly, my whole body was trembling, shaking uncontrollably. He redoubled his efforts, kissing, licking, tonguing my clit, daintily dipping his tongue past the edge of my hymen. The pleasure was so burning, so intense, so unbearable! Nothing had ever been this good, this nice, this-I guess I must have fainted for a moment. Just a second or two. When I opened my eyes, I was still breathing heavily. His great throbbing thing was still in my mouth.
"He was still kissing me down there, and it was wonderful, but now I felt more relaxed, drained and emptied. I didn't know what had happened. The pleasure was more bearable now. I could have gone on forever. I hoped it would never end.
"Then I realized I'd been neglecting him. His great purple thing was still swollen and angry, but it wasn't throbbing so hard. I wondered if it were possible for me to do to him what he had just done to me. If I kissed and licked and tickled and rubbed where he had put his hand, what would happen?
"I began working my head back and forth, sliding his thing in and out, barely touching its purple head once in a while with my teeth. I ran my tongue around it like he did round my clit. I licked the underside and felt it throb and jerk as his pulse quickened. Pursing my lips, I ran them rapidly back and forth across the knob at the end. I kissed it from end to end, licked it the way I used to lick butter from corn on the cob.
"The throbbing slowed so I put it back in my mouth as deep as I could. I ran my head slowly back and forth, sucking and tonguing. It began throbbing again, jerking in time with his pulse. His pelvis began jerking just as mine had in that flaming moment before I had fainted. Was it going to happen? Was I going to give him that moment of delicious, unbearable pleasure he had given me?
"Suddenly he pulled it out where my yearning mouth couldn't reach it. I felt his head come from between my throbbing thighs. He was lifting me, turning me. Changing his own position.
"Relaxed, loving, limp as a rag doll, I let him lay me on my back. He pulled my legs up until my knees were bent. He kissed my tiny tender tits again and made their nipples hard. He kissed my bottom once more, kissed his way up my belly, kissed my tits again, locked his lips over mine and touched his tongue to mine.
"I felt the pressure against my bottom, where his mouth had been a moment ago. At first I thought he was trying to get a finger past my hymenal membrane. Then I realized no finger could be this thick, this hard, this throbbingly urgent. I knew it was the great throbbing purple thing I had been kissing, loving, licking, tonguing a moment ago. Was he going to put that into me?
"He couldn't. I was too small, it was too big! I'd never heard of anyone doing anything like that. He was just going to move it around, slide it up and down. It would be fun to rub that thing up and down inside my secret slot, just tickling its tip. He did it once or twice. Then he was pushing again. Suddenly I was pushing back, hurting, straining, forcing myself against it. I didn't know why I was doing it. It couldn't possibly go in that tiny hole where the tip of his tongue had barely entered.
"But it was going in. I felt myself stretching, tearing. Warm trickle. Was I bleeding, or was I peeing? Who cared? Nothing was important but the feel of that tremendous pruple knob throbbing and sliding its slow slick way into me. Would it never stop going in? I held my breath, kicked my legs high, threw my bottom up against him and wrapped my legs around him so that wonderful warm wand would never wander away, never stop feeding inch after inch of hot pulsating pleasure into my hungry hole.
"Finally I felt his pelvis hit my pubic bone. He put his hands around me, pulled me closer, pushed, ground, screwed his thing around in me. Then he started pulling it out.
"No!" I shrieked, "Not yet, please!"
"He cupped my bottom in his hands and began pushing it back in, slowly, hesitatingly, backing out a little and starting again, stopping to screw it around one way, then the other. Finally it was all the way in again. He held it there, straining against me. I pushed back, feeling warm waves of ecstasy flow up through my belly, through my chest, into my throat where they threatened to explode as they met other waves coming down from where his tongue touched mine.
"His hairy chest rubbed me, chafing my tender nipples rigid. He started to pull out again, changed his mind and drove to the bottom. He pushed this way and that, screwing it around, then started slowly pulling out. This time I understood; I knew he wasn't going to stop. Now I knew how delicious it felt for that great throbbing purple thing to slide slowly into me, down, down, as far as it could go until his balls squeezed against my bottom. Then slowly up, up, up until my lips barely contained that angry purple head.
"I stretched, strained, got my hand down where I could tickle his balls. He began stroking faster. Ooooooohhhh, it was good. It was heaven!
"My bottom moved involuntarily. I couldn't control it. I felt myself bobbing, rising to meet his accelerating tempo, galloping in time with his probing.
"The fire within me flared again. Now I couldn't stop myself, couldn't think of stopping, couldn't think of anything but rising, falling, kissing, clenching my bottom, trying to contain the force within me that threatened to explode. Electric shocks ran through me. I felt as if my whole body would explode into flaming, blazing, rocketing pinwheels of passion.
"Suddenly I was exploding. Was I peeing? I didn't know; I didn't care. Dimly I sensed that he was exploding, too-doing what I had tried to make him do when I had been kissing, licking, sucking that angry purple thing. Now it too was spurting, filling me just as I was filling him. Twin dams had burst, and the floodwaters of our passion were flowing, running over me, draining from me, leaving me exhausted, spent, empty, happy. Could such pleasure ever happen twice?
"Even lying there exhausted on the bed with him half on, half off me, his dying thing still partly in me, already I was counting the minutes. How long before we could start again? Why had we waited so long? He was older than I. Surely he knew more about this kind of pleasure than I. Why had he waited so long? Why hadn't we been doing this for years? I could have cried at the thought of all the times we had skylarked around, snapping towels at one another when we could have been doing this. I guess I did cry a little.
CHAPTER EIGHT
"I felt him get up and draw a blanket over me. He went off somewhere. To get a drink of water, I guessed."
Carol sighed. During this long recital I had been lying atop her, resting my weight on my elbows. When she first started talking I'd been afraid my cock would shrivel and come out, but I got so interested, so turned on by the story of her first fuck that I'd damn near come a couple of times without even moving. Goddamn, but she had a nice, tight warm cunt! I envied the lucky neighbor who'd lived in the same building and managed to get into her regularly. But if he'd taken care of her as a little girl, he must be damn near middle-aged.
"How long was it before he got into you again? " I asked. "He never did. I told you, it only happened once." Silently thoughtful, I fed her a couple of long slow ones just to keep my hard-on. I guessed when you got old it took a little time to charge your batteries. But forever? I didn't really know. How many more years would I be good for five times a day?
"Even if he was old enough to be your father," I asked, "How come he never got into you again?"
Carol sighed. "I thought he'd just gone to get a drink of water. Now I realize he'd heard me crying. How could he have guessed I was crying from joy and not from sorrow? The next thing I heard was a pistol going off." Carol was sobbing now. "Don't you understand? He was my father." The way my hard-on suddenly shriveled reminded me of....
The chandelier was directly over the colossal, fucking-is-a-major-industry bed. I was draped over the chandelier where Nadine had put me to dry and hopefully to see whatever would be worth seeing. At the moment I was seeing Dr. Joris in a glorified jockstrap and some well-tanned skin. He was facing Nadine who wore a peignoir just transparent enough to make it obvious that she was wearing nothing else-not even me. Huddled shapeless and alone, hanging wet from the chandelier, I felt out of it all.
They faced each other, sparring for an opening. The doctor handed Nadine her drink. It looked like that same Venus valentine poison they'd had before they went swimming.
"So you're a doctor," Nadine said.
"I have a degree," he conceded. "But I don't practice poke-and-probe medicine-except with lovely young ladies. I'm a headshrinker."
"Is that what interests you in me?"
The doctor leered. "I am equally uninterested in your inhibitions and your assets. All I want is your ass."
"I still haven't heard your qualifications."
"You've seen them," the doctor countered. "Unlike the plumber, I don't have to go home for forgotten tools. I brought everything with me. I might add, you've seen all of me, and I'm still guessing about your last five percent." He put down his glass and reached out with both hands. I suppose Nadine thought he was going to embrace her, but instead he peeled the robe from her shoulders. Before she could protest the peignoir puddled around her feet.
Lovely, virginal Nadine stood naked and defenseless before this cocksman. I watched, knowing there was something wrong with Dr. Joris, but unable to put my finger on it. Finger! If I'd had a finger I'd have jammed it straight up his arrogant ass.
Like a good chess player, the doctor made all the proper opening moves. He wrapped his arms around her, pulled her close to him and laid on the big-strong-man-protecting-you--from-all-dangers bit. All dangers except himself, that was. I don't know why I was so worried. It was only her cherry Nadine stood to lose, and that was long overdue. Still....
He kissed her lips, buried his face in her shoulder, and with one unobtrusive hand slipped his glorified jockstrap down until he could step out of it. His competent cock stood at half mast. He caught its tip between his thighs so it couldn't poke and distract my lovely blonde Nadine too soon. He was tall enough, rather, Nadine was short enough, so his tool in fighting trim would just about skewer her navel standing barefoot without heels as she was. Deftly, he arched around to kiss the nape of her neck.
This fuse lit, he returned to the front of her lovely body and began kissing his way down her chest, playing ring-around-a-rosy with her turgid nipples, licking the underside of her jaunty pointed little jugs. Nadine's thighs quivered. Even from up on the chandelier, I could see her turning on. This was going to be it. There was no way out of it. Resignedly, I watched as he made it down to her lovely deep navel. Kneeling, he got his arms into position for the lift.
Oh, the good doctor knew what he was doing, all right. Too damn many young studs have wrenched their backs lifting a bit of lovely gash into the bed, playing the caveman bit. Dr. Joris knew how to kneel, kiss her belly, make it all seem like uncontrollable passion while he got in position for a safe and sensible fireman s lift.
He slid an arm between Nadine's tender thighs, rubbed just enough on her virginal vulva, and had her over his shoulders. He got her head around till he could kiss her ear and tongue it-all without any undue back strain. Then he was sitting on the edge of the bed, spinning deftly to spreadeagle himself atop her as she fell backwards. Oh, this boy was cool! He knew the exact moments when any girl is liable to have sudden second thoughts.
Not that Nadine was having any. She lay relaxed, acquiescent and willing as he arranged himself in the classic cherry busting missionary position-the only one where a determined cocksman can get a decent grip on a virgin's novice nates and exert the sometimes surprising pressure, the sudden sharp thrust that does the damage before there's time to hurt and scream and say "no, oh please, no, don't!"
It's not really difficult, but cherry busting requires a certain knack. It's like giving a child an injection; lots of calm soothing talk, plenty of indirection, and then the swift smooth thrust that has the job done before the victim realizes what's happening.
When Dr. Joris realized Nadine wasn't going to fight it, he stopped long enough to kiss his way down one tit and up the other. From where I draped directly overhead on the chandelier I could see his cock wasn't even at full hard. Goddamn, but he was a cool one, too cool. Was this the man I wanted to initiate Nadine into the fathomless felicity of fucking?
Of course not. The only real man to do the job was me. But since that was impossible, why not this reasonable facsimile? Why did I dislike this doctor so much? Because the bastard was too much like me?
He kissed his way down her belly, gradually turning Nadine and himself on. As he got her knees hooked over his shoulders and raised, still careful of the back muscles, into a vertical position where Nadine dangled in helpless heaving passion while he gobbled her gash, I saw his swelling slit-hammer finally grow to full, urgent erection.
Gently, he lowered Nadine back onto the coverlet. She settled naturally into the missionary position, face up, knees flexed, and Dr. Joris ready in the cockpit. He poked his prong between her gaping lips, slid it up and down a couple of times feeling out the terrain, and finally located the exact spot whence he would launch his assault on the membrane that had guarded Nadine's radiant rose for twenty years.
Goddamn! Any minute now the doctor's rampant rod would push, strain a moment, obey his final thrusting grunt, and my project would be finished. The thing I'd worked, planned and spent money for-the ending of Nadine's virginity-would come to pass. What was wrong?
The doctor was wrong. I didn't know why, but I knew he wasn't the man for the job. What could I do? I lay limp and helpless, draped over the chandelier. Nadine had washed me in warm water, but it was cold now. Drip-dry. Did I still have a drop of water in me? Yes, by God! I squirmed, twisted slightly, guided that precious drop to the part of me that hung lowest.
No. Not quite right. I moved again, hoarding that drop until-I saw Dr. Joris poised to ram. He took a deep breath. Muscles rippled along his back. I wriggled and squeezed. A single drop of clear, cold water fell from the chandelier-from me, square onto the small of the doctor's poised back.
Breath exploded from him in a fierce huff! Timing ruined, he twisted his head to glare up at the chandelier. He saw me and frowned-no doubt at the feminine proclivity for draping wet lingerie over every available projection while simultaneously screaming at any male's disturbance of a room's decor.
The good doctor caught his breath, collected himself and prepared to ram again. Beneath him Nadine lay naked and slightly puzzled. What was taking him so long? Studying her lithe legs' cock-stiffening curves, the gentle swell of hip, her lovely thin waist and jaunty little jugs, I wondered at the doctor's being distracted by a single drop of cold water on his back. No, definitely not the man to appreciate my Nadine.
His rib cage swelled as he gathered forces for another grand slam. He had moved slightly. I moved, too, getting myself imperceptibly in line. Just as he started to lunge I squeezed out another drop of sparkling, crystal clear, ice cold water. It hit him right at the borderline where the crack of his ass softens and becomes the back of his balls.
"Sonofabitch!" the doctor exploded. He twisted and glared up at me. Suddenly, I wondered if I'd shifted enough for him to notice.
"What's wrong now?" Nadine asked impatiently.
"Goddamn lingerie's dripping," Dr. Joris said. He raised up from her and reached for it.
"Leave it alone." Nadine said firmly. Her tone hinted that he'd better tend to business if he expected to do any.
Clearly of two minds, the doctor dropped back down to missionary position. He rubbed his belly against hers, trying to restore his dwindling hard-on.
"I've waited twenty years. I guess I can wait a few more minutes," Nadine said, more to herself than to the doctor. He heard it, though, and it didn't help stiffen his faltering phallus. He buried his face in her jaunty jugs, kissed her nipples, fondled her trim little body and generally did all the things people do to build up a head of steam. Little by little, his failing flagpole returned to rigidity. He poised to ram.
I tried to squeeze out another drop. No good. Drip dry means just that. I'd dripped so much I was still wet, cold and clammy, but I couldn't spare another drop of moisture for Dr. Joris' aggravated ass. This time the doctor was going to make it. He breathed deeply a couple of times, augured his arrant erection into the tiny opening at the edge of her hymen. What could I do now? This time he'd get in for sure. Oh, well ... Maybe it was all for the best.
Like hell it was. Nadine was the best, and this son of a bitch wasn't good enough for her. I began wriggling and creeping. I was dangling from the chandelier by a single point now. Desperately I worked, trying to free myself before it was too late.
The doctor rammed. Nadine winced and gave a little cry! Hah! Nadine's cherry was tougher than I'd thought! He hadn't gotten in yet.
There's something about cherry busting that takes it out of a man. Back in my prime, I'd once done three in a single afternoon, but Dr. Joris wasn't Kelly P. Gast. I remembered how I'd struggled not to come. It's mostly psychological, I guess. There certainly isn't much physical pleasure in busting cherries, but the psychological impact is such that a man is in mortal danger of coming. Coming disastrously, explosively, with such all-draining force that it's hours and sometimes days before his batteries are charged for a second try. Watching Dr. Joris' ass clench and quiver, I knew he was one cunt hair away from catastrophe right now.
He poised to push again, his lips were moving. The sonofabitch was mumbling the multiplication tables, trying to stave off a staccato stallion-sized stampede. I struggled to free myself from the chandelier. He was pushing again.
Finally I was free. I was not quite in line. I contracted and expanded, building momentum until I was swinging. Mentally praying to Venus, to Priapus, to any interested and influential parties, I gave a final swing and let go. SPLAT!
My flaccid clammy dampness lit squarely in the middle of Dr. Joris' straining back. I felt his startled lunge and for a moment feared I had forced him to do exactly what I didn't want to happen. Then the breath left him in a heartfelt, prolonged "Aaaaaaaaaaaaa!"
His cock had left the target area and was spurting, hurting, squirting its shame across Nadine's still-virgin belly. Still firing great gouts of jizz, he reached behind him, gathered me in his hands and threw me hard as he could against one of the mirrored walls. Thank the gods nylon doesn't feel pain. If I'd had a mouth, lungs, you could have heard my joyous laugh from one end of the ship to the other.
Nadine had by now begun to suspect my complicity. She wavered between anger at me and amusement at the doctor's cosmic sketch. Dr. Joris stormed about the room swearing horribly, throwing things, still firing an occasional spurt from his diddled dick.
Before Nadine could throw him out, Dr. Joris found his double barreled jockstrap and stormed out of the room, carrying it in his hand. From the corridor came a surprised gasp from what sounded like an elderly female. Then the door slammed.
Nadine picked me from the floor and put me on the dressing table. "Now Mr. Gast," she complained, "that wasn't very nice." She started to say something else, then she giggled. "But it teas funny," she conceded. Then she was laughing as loudly and joyously as I would have if I'd had lungs.
Finally, Nadine sobered. "You're nice, Mr. Gast," she said. "And I'm sure you have my best interests at heart, but I've got to do it someday, and you've got to stop interfering. Just for what you did today, I'm not going to wear you again until you promise to be good."
Be good? When had Kelly P. Gast ever been good? Now I j lay helpless on the dressing table. Nadine pushed me to one side and began combing her long blonde hair, repairing the I ravages to her makeup that the good doctor had caused to no avail. Then her hand touched her blonde-haired pubic mound. She felt the doctor's load of jizz stiffening there and frowned.
Nadine put on a shower cap and stepped into the next J room. I lay on the table wondering how long she would keep me in exile. I was going to have to be careful, or she I might decide to do without me forever. I heard water I running in the shower. Then I heard the door open.
It was Dr. Joris. He was fully dressed this time. He listened hopefully, then realized Nadine was in the shower. The doctor had had enough experience to know how I difficult it is to reawaken passion in a woman who's dropped the game and gone to the showers. He shrugged defeat. Then his eyes fell on me.
"Mr. Gast," he murmured. "Who else was around when she was in the pool?"
I lay quiescent, wondering if nylon could tremble.
"Psychoneurotic," the doctor muttered to himself. But that didn't stop him from putting me in his pocket. I heard the door close as he stepped into the corridor.
I chafed along in his pocket for some time, then suddenly he stopped walking as a fluting voice called, "Dr. Joris!"
"Ah, Madame Milos," the doctor said. "How's my favorite patient today?"
"Oh, doctor!" she fluttered. "I've had such a crushing experience. You must help me!"
"You've had a crushing experience!" the doctor muttered not loud enough for his favorite and probably richest patient to hear. But he had enough professional instinct to put an arm around her and comfort her into his suite. I wondered if she had been his patient before this trip or if it was a temporary setup. The door closed, and he helped Madame Milos onto the couch. As the doctor bent over to help her down, his pocket gaped, and I got my first look at Madame Milos.
Wow!
No wonder she was the doctor's favorite patient. Madame Milos was dark, with raven black hair over a low-cut blouse that bared her magnificent shoulders. The blouse was in no danger of falling since those firm, defiantly upward pointing forty-fours could hold up far more than a blouse. At the moment they were lifting Dr. Joris' frazzled phallus back into something very close to a hard-on.
"Would you like to listen to a recording of last session?" he asked.
"Oh, no!" Madame Milos fluttered. "That's the trouble. Somehow, Stavros got hold of a copy of one of our therapeutic sessions and-Oh, you know how possessive these Mediterranean men can be."
Dr. Joris didn't seem particularly worried. "What happened? " he asked.
"I divorced him," Madame Milos said. "Oh, I gave him enough money for a fresh start."
"And now you're all muddled up emotionally and need to be straightened out again? " Joris said.
"Oh, yes," Madame Milos sighed.
The doctor began undressing.
Oh-ho, I thought. So this is the kind of therapy he practices. I felt the good doctor's trousers fall in a corner of the room. The pocket gaped slightly. While he was stripping off the rest of his clothes I crept around, moving his pocket open wider, oozing myself out a little more, "improving the lay" as golfers and fuckers like to put it.
Apart from the off-the shoulder blouse, Madame Milos wore dark blue leotards and high heels. Looking at her stretched out on the couch I realized she had the kind of legs that look high heeled no matter what they wear. Her whole body had that ineffable prick-stiffening quality that comes from a good couturier plus exercise and diet plus good looks to begin with.
Like her ex-husband, Madame Milos was very much a Mediterranean type, with long black hair, overlarge doe-like eyes, and a long straight nose. Her tits were large but didn't sag. When Dr. Joris helped her maneuver out of the blouse without ruining her hair I saw she wore no bra-not even the unobtrusive spray-on type that always shows a few slight puckers in the skin where the spray-on coat ends.
Dr. Joris got hold of the toes of her leotards and pulled. Madame Milos raised her ass slightly and sighed as the doctor pulled slowly, making an erotic ceremony of her unveiling. Finally he tossed the leotards atop his trousers. They partially obscured my view until I maneuvered myself a little farther out of the doctor's pocket.
Now, what? I wondered, would an experienced doctor and a woman old enough to know her way around have to do that was worth watching? One fuck, I was beginning to realize, was pretty much like another. Would she be the stiff, silent, slow-to-turn-on type? Or would she be one of those noisy wailing ones who shriek their ecstasy in a vain hope of some day getting a thrill half as good as the one they keep faking? Nothing they could dream up would make up for being separated from Nadine. How was I going to get out of here?
I didn't even know my way around the ship. If I managed, at my snail's pace, to crawl under the door and out of here I'd be walked on, swept up and thrown down the disposal long before I ever found my way back to her suite. Would Nadine miss me? Sure she would. But for how long? Was she looking for me now? Did she have enough imagination to guess who had stolen me?
Madame Milos was now as naked as the doctor. She lay back on the couch. The doctor turned on a recorder. Then he climbed onto the couch and stretched out head-to-foot alongside Madame Milos' full-blooming, ready-for-fucking body. I waited for him to dive into her crotch and start eating her. Nothing happened.
He ran a caressing hand up her well-profiled leg, fondling her absently as one might a dog or cat. With equal lack of interest, Madam Milos grabbed his half hard-on. She gave it a friendly squeeze and began playing with the hairs on his balls.
"Tell me what you're thinking at this moment," Dr. Joris said.
There was a long silence. Finally, Madame Milos said, "One morning when I was thirteen I awoke early. It was spring, and I couldn't sleep. We were living in a villa on Skopelos, (that's one of the Voriai Sporadhes)," she parenthesized, "that summer. I'd lost my virginity over a year before. Perhaps that was why there were no boys around.
"I knew there wasn't the slightest chance of finding a boy who dared oppose my all-powerful father and fuck me. With nothing better to do, I went down to the docks and got on one of the bicycles. It was one of those crazy things with pontoons that you pedal about on protected waters.
"I was pedaling furiously, concentrating on that seat rubbing my crotch just as you're doing right now. Suddenly, I realized I was outside the harbor. The northern Aegean in August is no place for a pontoon bicycle. In less than nothing I had capsized. I hung on, knowing it was too far to swim back to shore.
"I don't know how many hours later it was when the boat came. They were American college boys out for summer skin diving, and they had no idea who I was, even less my father. I spoke fair English, but I'd called out in Greek. What with one thing and another, they all assumed I couldn't understand English. I'd never have another chance like this. I waited to see what would happen.
"Their water was all right for cooking, but foul for drinking. They gave me beer and Chianti wine. I pretended to be drunker than I was. They were all such hopelessly straight children that I knew I'd never get anything going unless-While they were on deck, I wandered about the galley exploring. Between the spice cabinet and the medicine chest I managed to make up that mixture that frightened you so badly you swore me to secrecy."
Madame Milos' hand ran gently over the doctor's balls. She tickled the underside of his cock, gently squeezing its head until Dr. Joris was beginning to writhe with passion. I wondered how long it'd take him to get around to slipping his Louisville slugger between these pretty legs. But Madame Milos was off and running again.
"I served the blond boy, who was tending the boat, a tall iced drink. When the other two came up and shed their scuba gear, I had drinks ready for them. Up on the foredeck, behind the Samson post, was a large mattress for sunbathing. I took off my shorts and blouse and lay face down, arranging my hair as seductively as a thirteen-year-old love-hungry girl knows how.
"What do you think of all this?" Madame Milos interrupted her confession.
"What do you think of it?" Dr. Joris countered. He was using the standard turnabout technique in which a shrink makes a patient answer his own questions and, hopefully, learn something about himself.
"Nothing," Madame Milos said. "It doesn't mean a thing to me one way or another. That's what bothers me." She raised her head and gazed at Dr. Joris with tragic doe eyes. "It means no more to me than this does to you. " She bent her head over his crotch and beneath a curtain of hair peeled back the good doctor's foreskin and licked his dick into some semblance of spurtability. Dr. Joris opened his legs wide, waiting for her to do more, but Madame Milos lost interest.
"The three boys finished their drinks simultaneously and suddenly saw me, face down and nude on the foredeck. 'Shit; she can't be over twelve or thirteen,' the blond one said.
"'She's old enough to know you don't undress on somebody else's boat unless you're ready to go through with it,' the short redheaded one with the sunburn and the turned-up nose said. The tall dark third boy felt the same way. Peeking through my hair with half closed eyes, I saw them flip a coin. The blond shook his head and went below. The redhead apparently won the toss with the tall dark one, for he came forward, picking his way around the deck house.
"At thirteen I must have been more experienced than he. And the boy was at least nineteen. Behind the deck house, he took off his swim trunks. He sidled up to me as if afraid a straight-on look at his machinery might frighten me back into the sea. I waited, holding my breath while he ran a hand over me.
"When I played asleep, his exploring hand became bolder, running down my back, copping a feel of my breasts. Did you know I had very nice ones even when I was thirteen?"
Dr. Joris muttered something noncommittal. From the disgruntled look on his face, I suspected he was far less interested in Madame Milos' confession than he was in getting her to go down on him again.
"Have you ever deflowered a virgin, doctor?"
"What?" Joris was startled out of his reverie by the question. Watching the swift throbbing rise of his cock, I knew he was thinking of Nadine.
"I've noticed," Madame Milos continued, "that men are excited beyond all proportion if some wise girl tightens herself and acts shy and frightened. As the red-haired boy approached me, I didn't know whether to play the reluctant virgin and frighten him away or to let him know I was burning with a far greater desire than he-which might frighten him away even sooner. Finally, I played the languid, half asleep siren, appealed to his latent necrophilia and allowed him to roll me over. It was difficult playing languid and sleepy when my heart was pounding, when I was wondering if this poor eager child, five years older than I, could control himself long enough to get it in."
Dr. Joris had apparently despaired of Madame Milos' ever gobbling his knob again. While she rambled on in her dreamy voice of things long past, he worked his way around until he could kiss her cunt. Satisfied of its readiness, he oozed farther around until he was crossways of the couch. Madame Milos continued her story while he parted the lips of her cunt and aimed his throbbing tool.
"Why, Doctor Joris, how nice of you," Madame Milos said as he gave a sudden lunge and drove his prodigal prod several inches into her tasty twat. While the doctor began slowly pumping away, she continued her story.
"The redheaded boy worked with infinite caution, as if still secretly afraid I might suddenly awake and scream-as if there were land or another ship in sight to scream at! I lay still and allowed him to work his will. He got my knees up and placed his tool, ready for the deflowering.
"I could feel him pushing, could feel the throbbing thud of his passion, hear his heavy breathing. Another minute, and it would be over. I relaxed my clenched cunt, and suddenly he was in; banging away as eagerly and awkwardly as you are right now."
Dr. Joris suddenly lost interest in what he was doing. "The redheaded boy lasted all of thirty seconds. Then the tall dark one took over and bettered his record by some ten seconds. When it became obvious that the first boy would need a few more minutes to recover, I threw caution to the winds, spoke English, and invited the third boy in. He suffered a ten-second crisis of conscience while his cock was stiffening, and then he was giving me his all.
"There was still a short wait before the redhead was ready for seconds. Finally he was ready, and this time he lasted a little longer, thanks to my subtle guidance. If the boy had lived, he might have made a fine cocksman with a little more practice."
"He died?" Dr. Joris asked. Imperceptibly, he had resumed his pumping, feeding Madame Milos long slow strokes, barely preserving his hard-on while she talked ... and talked, and talked.
"They all died," Madame Milos continued, "very suddenly, when Daddy's yacht came up on us in the middle of the night sound asleep and all still naked."
Doctor Joris stopped pumping again. "Your father killed them? " he asked.
"It was the only way he could avoid a scandal," Madame Milos explained.
Peeking from the doctor's pocket I could practically see his cock shriveling, shrinking. It was like that day at the funny farm when Carol and little Ann had stolen all the horses so Brigitta couldn't cut in on their rape-in-reverse.
CHAPTER NINE
I had been atop Carol in missionary position, just relaxing, enjoying her fine gangling young body with its sag proof tits, giving her an occasional leisurely poke to keep my old warhorse in fighting trim. And then she'd pulled that line about the perfect lover being her daddy.
Carol was still sobbing. Her lovely naked body shook from head to foot. Each sob gave me a delicious thrill, rather like the milking squeeze that comes with a cough, providing you've got it in deep enough to keep some wise-assed girl from coughing you out into the cold.
My cock rose by bounding leaps, and despite her heartbroken sobbing, I was turning on. I began feeding her slow ones, taking care not to pull out far enough for her sobbing to cough it out. Finally, the fine full-feathered feel of a fuck began to penetrate Carol's grief, and she stopped her sobbing. Little by little, I felt her ass rise. Unwillingly at first, but soon, she was galloping in time with my thrust, her grief forgotten.
I was enjoying myself, pacing it out. I could have fucked away all afternoon, pouring my cock to Carol's lovely lanky body if only ... I'd gotten so interested in my work I'd clean forgotten about little Ann. Huddled on the sidelines, she pondered. They say the devil finds work for idle hands.
I don't know what he did with the other one, but just as I least expected it, I felt one of little Ann's fingers up my ass!
It startled me so much I damn near nailed Carol to the blanket. My poor prostate, assaulted from both directions, threatened instant eruption. I clenched my ass, gritted my teeth, recited multiplication tables and statistics about the Gross National Product. Finally the spasm passed. I tried a tentative poke at Carol's affable ass. Little Ann's finger damn near urged an orgasm from me. This couldn't go on! Balls, two more pokes and I'd be a dry bagged idiot.
I left my cock in Carol, but twisted until I could get my hands round Ann's freckled waist. I twisted until her finger popped from my addled asshole. Goddamn! Even her cunt was freckled. She'd run around naked in the sun so much the labia on her practically hairless vulva had tanned and freckled like the rest of her body.
It was a nice little cunt, too. I upended it and kissed it. Little Ann's legs opened and closed rapidly, like scissors in the hand of some berserk barber. When I got a tongue on her tiny clit, it swelled rapidly. She emitted a squeal like a whistling teakettle. "Eeeeeeeee! Kelly, it's so much better when you do it. Eeeeeeeee! Do it some more!"
I did my best to oblige. Meanwhile, things were getting rather tangled. In my wildest dreams with dear old Rosalie I'd never thought of getting into two girls at once. What the hell, I didn't have two cocks. The only one I had was slipping rapidly in and out of Carol's comely cunt. I had my mouth locked onto little Ann's freckled snatch, running my tongue in rapid rings round her quivering clit. Ann's tender, barely nubile legs seemed disconnected from the rest of her as they gyrated wildly in unexpected directions, clamping every once in a while over my ears in their frantic pedaling.
Somehow Carol had gotten off to one side, still plugged onto my cock but not bearing the weight of this prurient pyramid. I felt a hand grab my balls and wondered if it was Ann or Carol. Whoever it was, she squeezed with just enough pressure to cool my incipient come. I pulled my face out of Ann's cunt long enough to draw a deep breath. Carol wasn't sobbing now. She was wailing. Not in a grief but in ecstasy. "Ooooooohhhhhhh, Kelly!" she moaned. "Ooooooohhh, moooooooorrrrrrre! Ooooooooohhhhhh!!" The lyrics weren't much, but it sounded like a real fun song to sing.
Little Ann was sounding off too, eeeeeeing and screeeeeeing for more. I was giving them every goddamn thing I had, for Christ's sake! What more did they want? Then I remembered Ann's tiny finger up my ass. What would happen if I plugged in? There were two girls, and I had two hands. I tried it.
The results were explosively immediate. Thinking back, I suppose these girls had been fingerfucking each other so long they were more used to that than an honest dicking. When Carol suddenly found herself with my cock in her cunt and my wriggling index finger up her ass, she gave up. For an instant she was so quiet and limp I thought she had fainted again. Then she was screeching, threshing, shrilling like a banshee as fire coursed through her turned-on tummy.
Little Ann was tossed to one side as Carol's cunt demanded my entire attention. Her torso swiveled past me.
I snapped, and my teeth fastened onto one of her tiny, perfectly conical tits. "Ooooooooohhhhh!" she moaned. I poked my cock up to the hilt, wriggled my finger in her ass, chewed on her tit, switched to the other already turgid nipple, and did my best to hang on as the brunette's long gangly body threshed and twisted in the throes of erotic passion. Her shrill screaming rose ever higher like some mad siren. It was barely on the edge of audibility when I felt the sudden softness, the relaxation and flow of love juice that told me Carol had reached her climax.
And none too soon. Another minute of that frantic fornication, and I'd have spurted and squirted myself into a dry bagged idiot as limp and unconscious as gangling firm-titted Carol who now lay in a dead faint.
I took a breath, blinked my eyes, and realized I still had a finger up little Ann's ass. I still had a hard-on, too. I moved off Carol and drew the freckle faced little twinkle twat toward me. "You game to try it?" I asked.
"Ooooooohhh, yesssss, please! " Ann said.
I still didn't know whether I could get it inside her hot little hole or not. I thought about the missionary position and realized I might get carried away and hurt her. After a moment of thought, I rolled over and lay flat on my back. Little Ann climbed astraddle me and began settling down slowly and carefully, like a ship docking as she aligned her freckled little twat with my still rarin'-to-go cock.
Her widespread freckled labia, guided by the finger I still had up her ass, settled down till the head of my rampant rod was barely touching them. If I hadn't come so many times lately, just the touch of that hot little box sliding its slick slender way down my greased pole would have set me off like a fourth of July celebration. I felt my foreskin peel back from the tight pressure of her pussy. The tip of my tool tingled with the tight torment of her tender terminus. There was a pressure, then a sudden yielding. If I hadn't known she'd already made out, I'd've sworn I was popping a cherry, she was that tight! My cockhead was halfway in.
And hurting!
I had a sudden inspiration and took my finger out of her ass. The extra room allowed her tushy to slide another half inch over my skewer. I got my hands under the cheeks of her ass and held her there while I cooled it a minute, took a couple of deep breaths, and tried to think of something apart from how painfully good it was-how breathtakingly near I was to coming.
Finally, I thought I had things under control. I lifted gently with my cupped hands, and her tiny twat slid up until the head of my hammer was only halfway in again. I sat up and feasted on the nipples of her just-starting-to-bloom busts. "Oooooooohhhhh!" she squealed. "Eeeeeee!"
I could feel her tender tight-stretched cunt quivering over the knob on my rod. If I didn't get it in a little farther, that pulsating fibrillation was going to drive me into a ram-jam frenzy that might hurt her and would surely put an end to this cozy little copulation. I was holding her ass in my cupped hands. Her lithe limber legs swung out, and her heels hooked over my shoulders. I began letting her down, savoring the delicious feel of that tight, cock-skinning cunt flaying the foreskin from my fluttering phallus.
To one side, the gangling fifteen-year-old brunette moaned and twisted. One tiny perfect tit pointed straight at me like a searchlight. I pulled a hand from under one side of little Ann's ass to caress it, to rub Carol's nipple back to turgidity.
Little Ann slid down until my cock was halfway in her. Her eyes opened wide. "Sorry," I said. "Did I hurt you?"
"Ooooooooohhhhhh, noooooo! " she sighed. "It feels soooooo gooooood!"
"I'm happy you're pleased with our product," I said, and pulled my other hand from under her ass.
Little Ann had her hands on the ground while I suffered the tortures of they who want to go right on suffering, feeling the slow slick slide of that freckled little cock pocket sliding down my dick, peeling the foreskin back, back, squeezing, hurting; man, was it ever good!
Finally, I felt Ann's affable little ass settle down into my lap. Gradually, she relaxed as she discovered the long slow slide had ended. Her heels came down from my shoulders and her torso came close to me as she sat upright. I bent my neck and zeroed in on her tiny tits, kissing her into squealing ecstasy. She began bouncing gently, barely moving her tiny twat up and down along my rubbed-raw rod. It hurt so good!
Carol was wide awake now, wanting back in the game. While little Ann bounced up and down on my dong, gradually lengthening her strokes as the love juice flowed and lubricated our cramped coition, I got both hands back on those perfect little tits Carol had been so afraid I wouldn't like. Goddamn! How could anybody not like a tiny pair of sag proof perfect twin volcanoes like that? Even in my dying dreams I'd nibble something like that and be young again.
Carol was moaning with desire, panting, insinuating her slender gangling body against mine, distracting me from my chores with Ann's tender twat. Whether I was ready or not, this combined assault on all my erotic senses was going to make my gun go off in one of the grandest, wildest explosions since-And then I heard Brigitta's voice, raw and grating with fury.
"Carol! Ann! Where are you two bitches?"
"Oh!" Ann wailed. "Please, Kelly. Finish with me. Don't let her get all the good."
"Kiddo," I promised, "if you slide up and down my dong just one more time-" I held my breath, clenched my ass together trying to hold it in, but it was too late. Little Ann's tight cunt, Carol's perfect tits rubbing all over me-I could have held out against an assault like that, but when Carol twisted herself into some impossible posture that put her brunette cunt in my face, finger lickin' good at the same moment her diddling digit invaded my bunghole, it was just too much. I felt the preliminary tremor and then I was drumming, thrumming, humming, succumbing, penduluming, tweedleduming, deliriuming, fee-fi-fo-fumming, pandemoniuming. To put it blunt, I was cumming!
My cock was hurting, spurting, squirting, interserting, as my poor tortured ass went slamming, jamming, cramming my jock into her creamy cunt. My frantic lunging threw little Ann off. Before I could feel the loss Carol sat astraddle my dying dick, savoring its failing flutter. Great gouts of jizz went fizzing and whizzing through the air as I bucked her off trying to get my mouth on one of those perfect, tits.
By the time, arrogant, unhorsed and cock hungry Brigitta had her well-muscled ass on the scene, there was nothing left for her but the cleanup detail. My dick was as dead as the three college boys who'd fucked Madame Milos-as dead as Dr. Joris' jittery jack staff when he'd heard about it....
CHAPTER TEN
Dr. Joris had given up trying to come inside this marathon talker's well-built cunt. He sneaked a look at his watch, pulled his half flaccid cock out, and found a damp towel. Still talking, Madame Milos climbed casually back into her blue leotards and off-the-shoulders blouse. Peeking from the doctor's pocket, I wondered what next. Suddenly the doctor made me wonder for perhaps the thousandth time if telepathy really exists. "Oh, yes, Madam Milos," he said. "Please disrobe again."
Catching her annoyance, he added, "No, you don't have to ruin your hair. Just slip off your leotards. She sat, and he helped her.
"Now," the sonofabitch said, crossing the room and taking me from his pocket, "I want you to wear these until our appointment tomorrow. Be sure to bring them back to me."
"I can't guarantee anything," the goddamn fraud said. "But it's a radical new approach to therapy. Still in the experimental stages. It's most important that you tell me if anything unusual happens."
"Like what? " Madame Milos wanted to know.
Dr. Joris fielded that one easily, considering that he didn't know a goddamn thing and only had some vague unformed suspicion about my existence. "It depends on the personality," he flimflammed. "Some people are totally unaffected. Some few find the therapy disagreeable. Others are delighted. I hope you II be one of the latter."
"But what effect could a pair of nylon panties possibly have on my psych-?" she began.
The doctor gave her a knowing leer. "That remains to be seen," he said, then added, "Take them off immediately if you suffer any adverse reaction."
A somewhat mystified Madame Milos allowed herself to be shooed out of the doctor's suite. As she walked down the corridor, stretching me around her ample ass with each step I heard her muttering to herself in what was probably demotic Greek. She would be wondering if her analyst had finally flipped. What could nylon panties possibly do for her, apart from bind a little (I was made for a Nadine-sized ass)?
As far as I was concerned, these panties were going to do nothing for her. If the secret ever got out, Madame Milos would see that I never got back to the doctor or Nadine. I decided that the safest course was to lie low around these thirty-eight-inch hips and hope for some accident that would take me back to lovely Nadine. I wondered if she had guessed who was the only person to know enough about me to want to steal me. And all because I'd dripped water on that bastard's ass! If I'd had an ass and a leg to kick it....
Meanwhile, it was nice to feel myself inhabited again. Madame Milos was big, but she was built like the proverbial brick pagoda. I'd sunk my happy harpoon into far worse cunts in my day. I wondered if I dared risk a little peek up hers. I'd have to be careful-wait till she was distracted by something else. Too bad they didn't have a bridal path aboard this starship. One brisk gallop, and I'd be six inches into her and out again before she knew it. She stopped walking suddenly.
"Why Mr. Moetotolo," she gushed. "I haven't seen much of you since we boarded."
"Maah Moetotolo," an impossibly deep voice protested.
"Oh yes, I keep forgetting," Madame Milos said. "Well, we're right at the door of my suite. Won't you step in for a moment?"
"I shall be most happy. I have wished to discuss something with you for several days."
"Why, Mr. Moetotolo!" she said. I felt the rush of blood in her snazzy slash. Seconds later, a tiny trickle of love's elixir came trickling down into my crotch. Obviously, Madame Milos had the hots for whoever she was talking to.
I heard her door open, felt her ass flex a couple of steps inside me, heard the door close and then had my ass and hers stretched into sitting shape. "Well, now," she bubbled, "what did you wish to discuss?"
"It is difficult to know how to begin."
"Well, in that case perhaps you'd like to fix us a couple of drinks while I change into something more comfortable."
Before her visitor could demur Madame Milos flew into another room and started undressing. From the way she peeled off clothing and flung it in all directions I guessed she had a live one out there. The madam's thumbs were under my waistband when she suddenly remembered Dr.
Jon's instructions. "You can stay-for a while, anyhow," she muttered. Moments later, she trooped back into the other room wearing me stretched tight around her ass and nothing else-not even a spray form bra.
Her deep-voiced visitor was none other than the dull, coal black alien Nadine and I had seen silently nursing a cup of something at breakfast, and later when Joris had been playing the cocksman at the pool. He still wore his jockstrap and loose-fitting cape. His impassive face gave me no hint of whether human females turned him on.
"Madame Milos," he began. "It has been suggested that my race and yours spring from a common stock. Does this suggest anything to you?"
"Everything is suggestive to me," she laughed. While I watched the alien's jockstrap for signs of life, I guessed from the sudden rush of life's processes in Madame's callipygian physique.
"Do you find me attractive? " the alien asked.
"Why Mr. Moetotolo, what a question! " she giggled.
"Maah Moetotolo," he corrected absently. "We seem of similar species. I have a long voyage ahead of me, and I have certain needs of a physical nature-"
Madame Milos' cunt was palpitating harder with each word the coal black alien said. Looking at the bulge in that jockstrap; I could guess why. She stood, and the alien who had apparently read some books on Earth etiquette immediately stood, too. He flexed his muscled shoulders like a weight lifter and the black cape fell back into the chair. Madame Milos' eager hands beat him to the jockstrap.
Jesus X. Christ, what a whang!
The alien's coal black cock was at least a foot long, and he didn't even have a hard-on. Either he was circumcised or had never been born with a foreskin. The head of his cock looked like an overgrown dandelion-not smooth like my human cockhead used to be. This one was a cluster of tiny spikes like flower petals. Behind the head, his no-thicker-than-human prick was jointed as if it had bones with hinge or ball and socket joints inside.
Madame Milos' doe eyes grew even larger. "Does it get bigger? " she asked.
"Only as large as is necessary to fill space available," the alien said in that impossibly deep voice. His English was perfect, but like a recorder playing back at half speed, so low was the pitch. His cock began swinging absently, like a cow's tail brushing off flies.
"You can control its size?" Madame Milos goggled.
"Oh, yes, Madame. I have perfect control."
"And you don't explode in sudden uncontrollable spasms like human males?"
"No, Madame. How many hours have you available?"
Madame Milos gave a happy sigh. She stepped to the door of her suite and flipped the latch that turned up a DO NOT DISTURB sign outside. "No calls until further notice," she said to the wall.
"Very good, Madame," the wall answered. "Will there be anything else?"
"Two Venus valentines."
So that was where Dr. Joris had learned about this improbable drink! Or was it the other way around?
Maah Moetotolo handed one glass to Madame Milos and sipped the other. His mouth suddenly opened impossibly wide and a pointed black tongue emerged to taste the air. His eyes crossed momentarily. Madame Milos was just turning to walk into the bedroom when the alien finished gulping the drink, picked her up from behind, dumped her on the bed in missionary position and was atop her in one fluid motion.
"Why, Mr. Moetotolo, " Madame said. "How impetuous you are."
"Earth beverages are strange to me," the alien apologized. "I am overcome by a sudden rush of passion."
"Well just wait until I get my panties off," she protested. "Unnecessary. I have sufficient prehensility."
Before Madame Milos could wonder what that word meant, she found out. The alien's coal black cock came snaking up to my waistband, inserted its black dandelion head, felt its way down to her pubic patch, fumbled uncertainly a moment, and retreated.
Madame Milo essayed an uncertain giggle. "My goodness, Mr. Moetotolo, you certainly know how to surprise a girl."
"Maah Moetotolo," the alien muttered absently. His cock lashed around a moment then poked its prehensile head up one of my legs. It searched blindly for a moment, finally found her cunt, and began feeling its way slowly in, exploring every pore and follicle as it went.
Madame's cunt began turning on. Love juice flowed in jolly jets as that black cock did things I'd only dreamed of doing. Each petal of its head could act independently. Some extended to diddle her dewy clitoris. Others were counting the hairs along her labia. Still other petals found her vagina, worked their tickling quivery way upward, exploring each wrinkle and fold while Madame's molded-for-high-heels legs spread and kicked in uncontrollable ecstasy.
"Oooooooooooooohhhhhhhh, Kyrie!" he moaned.
The alien's cock continued branching, searching its way to her cervix. Vagina explored, diddled, fondled, scraped and caressed as never before, that wandering wand worked its way gently through Madame's cervix, up into her womb. "Aaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh!" Madame said.
"Am I causing pain? " the alien asked.
"Yes-no, oooooohhhhhh, don't stop!"
"I had not intended to." The alien's cock worked its gentle way up her womb, up one horn to a fallopian tube where it stopped at Madame's sudden, agonized, "Aaaaaaahh!"
Thwarted, the alien ass jammer retreated and went up the womb's other horn only to find another impassably fine fallopian tube. Finally the alien's prehensile prick retreated from Madame's womb-to the accompaniment of a tremendous orgasm on Madame's part. Her lovely lush tits jiggled and jolted, crushing themselves against the dusty blackness of the alien's hairless chest. Her waist wiggled, her ass jiggled. Her teeth chattered, and her wails became suddenly tremolo.
"Ooooooohhhh, Mr. Moetotolo! " she wailed, "Do it again. Don't stop! Please!"
"Maah Moetotolo," the imperturbable alien corrected. "If you wish I shall return to this region, but first let us explore other avenues. " His voice was faintly puzzled.
Wrapped round this lovely lush creature's ass, I was puzzled, too. If the alien was enjoying it at all, he was a master at self-control. Not once had he lunged or poked or kissed Madame's desirable mouth or her pneumatic forty-fours or caressed her belly or done any of the other thousand little things I would have been doing if I'd been fucking Madame Milos' warm wonderful body instead of merely being wrapped around it feeling her fervid cunt react to this inhuman prehensile prod poking its careful way up her cunt, up her cervix, in and out of her womb, and now doubling back on itself to leave a double fold in her vagina as that multiple-petaled head came out again, nuzzled my reinforced crotch, and worked its blind way around seeking another entry.
Soon enough the black-petaled dandelion head found Madame Milos' quivering asshole, explored its surrounding skin for sensitive nerve endings, was apparently satisfied at the shrieking, kicking, screaming super colossal orgasm this produced, and finally poked its way up Madame's hysterical ass.
Madame 's ass was jerking, twitching, gyrating in galvanic abandon as the alien's recurved rod wormed its slow diddly way up her ass. I felt black skin flowing past my leg opening and suddenly realized that the alien's cock was not only prehensile, it was also retractable. The foot or so hanging out was only the beginning. I wondered how many yards of dork he had coiled up inside him waiting to satisfy Madame Milos' quim. From the way it was unreeling at the moment, he must be going up quite a way.
Madame's screaming, kicking, squealing orgasm had ended. While she rested up for another, the alien poured more cock to her. For the first time I appreciated the abilities inherent in a prehensile cock. Think about being able to lie there lazily sliding it in and out without having to bob your whole ass up and down. If I ever got out of these panties and had the chance to design myself a new body....
Either the alien was forgetting himself or he was running out of cock. The loop up Madame's vagina came out. Here, I realized, was my chance. I extended a tongue and began lapping Madame's toothsome clit. No use letting her suffer from boredom while the alien played his private games up her beleaguered bung hole.
Madame Milos naturally assumed my lascivious lapping was the alien's work. "Oooooooohhhh, Mr. Moetotolo," she cooed, "That's so nice."
And the alien naturally assumed she referred to the yards of whang he was unreeling up her asshole. He took a breath and began feeding her some more.
Madame's oohs and ahs suddenly stopped. "Mr. Moetotolo, " she began, "I suddenly feel rather ill."
"Maah Moetotolo," he corrected absently.
"Really quite nauseated," she said. She started to say something else, but it ended in a retching gurgle. At first I didn't understand why. Then I saw the black dandelion end of the alien's cock emerging from Madame's mouth. The alien's eyes gleamed suddenly. His mouth fastened over Madame's and he began joyfully blowing himself.
Madame didn't seem quite so joyful. The twistings and turnings of her lovely body as she realized she was skewered end to end on the alien's prodigious prong may have seemed seductive to an uninformed observer, but to me they seemed more like the writhings of a snake who'd come out second best with a bicycle tire.
After a moment, the alien stopped blowing himself. He seemed strangely disappointed. "You are not happy?" he asked.
Eyes popping in mute agony, Madame shook her lovely head.
"I am sorry," the alien said. I felt his endless erection start reeling in. Madame's retching agony disappeared within seconds after his cock was withdrawn from her esophagus. By the time his black-petaled flower emerged and gave her asshole a final tickle she was ready again. The alien reinvaded her vagina and worked away mechanically at diddling her into deep screaming delirium. Suddenly I realized he'd felt me in there getting in my licks. I lay quiet and careful, hoping he'd forget it or think it was just some accident that had driven a fold of cloth into Madame's comely cunt.
Madame's lovely legs worked like pistons as the alien's roving rod repeatedly drove her over the orgasmic edge of her jollies. Her lovely firm tits flopped with an abandon that made me wish I'd had half of myself made into a bra just to contain a lovely set of forty-fours like this. They were rounded to delicious kissability on their undersides, and topped with such edibly round turgid nipples as come only atop ice cream in the form of cherries.
Madame's waist pinched in as if she had spent her life in too-tight corsets. It couldn't have been over twenty-two inches. Separating that burgeoning bottom and her ball-tempting bazooms, that tiny waist was totally, impossibly and improbably seductive. Watching her writhe and strain under the alien's ministrations I was reminded of other days when I had possessed a cock of my own.
Suddenly Madame's writhings reached an erotic climax. Her beauteous body flushed dark red, turned pale. She stiffened in galvanic glee and shrieked "Aaaaaaahhhhhhh, Kyrie!" She repeated it once and then collapsed-utterly and completely, like a water filled condom when it bursts. "Kyrie eleison, " she sighed, and fainted.
I was still wrapped around her burgeoning butt. I lay quiet as the alien, sad as any post coitum triste animal, rearranged his yards-long tally whacker, mostly inside himself, but with the last foot or so dangling. Finally, he pulled on his jockstrap and stood thoughtfully eyeing the unconscious Madame Milos.
After a moment, I realized he wasn't eyeing her superb body. Only her ass. More specifically, he was looking at me with an unfathomable expression in his black, nearly invisible eyes. If I'd had any breath, I'd have held it. In any event, it would have done no good. He put his black hands on Madame's well-fucked ass and pulled me off down her splendidly tapered legs. Stuffing me inside his jockstrap next to the last twelve inches of cock, he put on his cape and left Madame's suite, still looking vaguely disappointed.
I felt him pacing the corridors, turning first one way then the other. There was conversation once. Then I heard the clatter of cutlery and guessed he was looking into the dining salon. Moments later there was the splashing and iodine-fishy smell of the salt water pool. Then he was striding the corridors again. Finally he stopped and rapped on a door. When it opened his deep voice said, "May I come in for a moment?"
"I'm busy right now," a familiar voice said. Then, "Oh, all right. Come on in. It isn't too important."
I heard the door close. Then the alien's hand pulled me from inside his jockstrap. "This belongs to you, if I am not mistaken, " his deep voice said. "In any event, you wore it today at the pool."
The seven-foot-tall black alien with the yards-long hog snorter was handing me to Nadine!
Ah, lovely Nadine of long blonde hair, Nadine of eighteen unblemished summers, Nadine of the body built for bundling. Lovely sylph of heart shaped face and cock raising smile! Light of my life, fire of my loins-if nylon can have an orgasm, I had one when you caught me in your tiny hands, pressed me to your tearstained face and shrieked, "Mr. Gast!"
Nadine's lovely sylph-like body was wet as if she had just stepped from the shower. She had thrown on a shortie robe that didn't quite make it far enough to cover the blonde hair on her prick stiffening pubis. She wiped tears from her face with me, rubbed me absently inside her robe, passing me across her lovely tongue stiffening tits, then stepped into me and pulled me up snug around her tender terminus. Suddenly she realized what she was doing in front of a stranger.
"Oh!" she fluttered. "Please forgive me."
"It is of no import. I am also female."
"You?" Nadine looked at his jammed jockstrap in frank disbelief.
"I know, " Moetotolo said. "It is confusing. I have just had a very disquieting experience."
"Oh? But how did you find Mr. Gast?" Nadine patted her edible ass in explanation.
"If I might sit down. It's rather a long story."
"Of course, " Nadine said. She moved over and the coal black seven-foot alien with the yards-long cock told her what had happened.
He told it in such excruciating detail that I felt myself turning on once more just at the memory of the agonies and ecstasies Madame Milos had suffered. Even Nadine's virginal vulva was turning on as Maah Moetotolo continued his blow-by-blow descriptions of Madame's minute-long orgasms. Feeling life's juices rush to her comestible crotch, I began gently working my way in. Nadine absently opened her legs for me.
"Then you're not really female at all," she said. "You just said that so I wouldn't be embarrassed."
"Yes," Moetotolo said. "I am female. Why else would I be called Maah? I keep trying to explain, but humans don't seem to wish understanding."
Nadine glanced once again at his bulging jock. "I can see why," she murmured. "But I promise, you'll have my full attention."
Moetotolo settled his/her black bulk more comfortably, and began talking. "It's true our roles are reversed," he began. "On my world the male is passive. The female is the aggressor."
"It's that way with us, too," Nadine said. "It's just that we're more successful if we don't let the men find out."
For the first time since I'd known him/her, the alien smiled. "But as with you, the male bears the seed. Somehow the female must extract it from him if she hopes to reproduce. Our males carry their seed safely inside them-in a tiny pouch to one side of the digestive tract. My prehensile harvester prong must enter a male through one orifice, pluck his seed, convey it safely inside the moisture and warmth of his body to my own. There I swallow it and the male's seed finds its way down to my ovular sac where fertilization and the early stages of gestation occur."
Since Nadine had been a nurse, she understood what he/she was talking about. Little by little, I was beginning to accept the fact that this deep-voiced brute actually was a woman. So, apparently, was Nadine. "Are you oviparous?" she asked.
"No. We bring forth living young, usually one at a time, just as you do. Some flying animals on our planet lay eggs. I suppose it is the same on yours. We even eat some of the animals' eggs."
Nadine smiled. "And Madame Milos thought you were a man?" she murmured.
"I was looking for her seed. I probably could not reproduce with human sperm, but it would satisfy this gnawing urge that afflicts me with each turning of my primary's satellite."
"Oh, you have a lunar cycle, too?"
"Yes," the alien said unhappily.
"You only extract male sperm. You leave nothing behind?" Nadine asked.
"Nothing."
"I have a lunar cycle, too," Nadine confessed. "And since I am virgin I've never bothered with contraceptives." Suddenly, I realized what poor Nadine had been doing all wet in the bath. Goddamn that incontinent bastard of a doctor! Why did he have to come all over her comely cunt?"
"How much sperm does it take to satisfy you?"
"Very little. A single cell would be sufficient."
Nadine explained her problem. When I'd whapped my clammy coldness down on Dr. Joris' ass he'd gone off on Nadine's front porch, sprayed her cunt and belly with jizz. The goddamn stuff swims like tadpoles, and it has an unerring instinct to swim upstream, up cunt, up cervix, up womb until it finds an ovum and a lady is pregnant. Most women can douche it out with a little vinegar or any other mild acid which acts as a spermicide. But Nadine was still a virgin. She must have been having one hell of a time trying to force the spout of a douche past her cherry without breaking it.
"Sooner or later," she explained, "I'll have a child. Maybe even two. But not by that thieving incompetent."
Aha! So she did know who'd stolen me. I gave her ass an affectionate pat.
"It depends on the opening, " Moetotolo said. "But if it is possible for me to get in without damaging you, I shall be most grateful. I shall, of course, remove every atom of male essence from you if I can force the opening."
Nadine gave a gusty sigh of relief and started to take me off.
"Not necessary, " the alien said. "The creature lives in symbiosis with you. No need to deprive it of sensory pleasure."
I was beginning to like Moetotolo more by the moment.
And that was how I got that oddest of all feelings. Nadine lay back on the bed beneath the mirror. Moetotolo shucked his/her jock strap, and her cock (?) lashed back and forth like an angry cat's tail. It reminded me of the way Brigitta's blonde braids had whipped the day little Ann and Carol stole all the horses and left the fourteen year old to walk, panting and ravening her raw nameless need as she pounded the slopes and ravines looking for us....
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Shouting, imploring, screeching maledictions, Brigitta finally found the three of us sprawled naked on that blanket beside the place where the creek became a pool. "Bitches! " she raved.
"Now, now," I cautioned. "You promised to be nice to them and let them come first."
Brigitta glared at me, hating me, hating my fucked-out flaccid cock, hating herself for needing me. She wore a two-piece playsuit that accentuated the erotic curves of her appealingly baby fatted body. One look at that unbelievable body was instant orgasm. Even though I was only fourteen myself, I knew instinctively that in another five years she would be dumpy. Now as Brigitta s moment of glory. The poor doomed dish deserved to be diddled, dicked and drilled constantly for the next couple of years ... if only I had the time and the energy.
But after that marathon madness with the lovely I gangling Carol and little Ann ravishing my rubbed-raw rod, I just didn't have it in me. "You're welcome to try," I told ) Brigitta. "Just be nice about it and have a little respect for the rights of others. As Prissy beard puts it, you've got to learn how to share."
Brigitta gulped. She was hot, dusty and sweating. "Want to swim?" she asked. Without waiting for an answer, she peeled off her two-piece playsuit. Those lovely outstanding forties stood proud and free as she strode slowly into the water. The last I saw of her were two blonde braids floating on the water. Then they sunk, too.
She stayed down so long I began to worry. I dived in and opened my eyes to look for her. At that moment I felt her coming up between my legs. Her mouth fastened over my emptied, cold water-shriveled cock. It felt nice, but I wasn't about to get a hard-on in this cold water-not after all the screwing and chewing I'd had in the past two days.
I surfaced and blew. Brigitta came up beside me, breathing easily as she came close enough to rub her firm tits against me. My cock tingled with dormant desire, but there was no hint of its rising. Still, it was fun to swim and grab-ass. I hadn't been able to relax and revel in unadulterated femininity like this since Rosalie.
Thinking of her beautiful brown ass, her tender tits and ticklish hands, I thought nostalgically of the hard-ons she'd relieved me of. We'd been making it four or five times a day there, for a while. But with Rosalie, it had always been a quick visit to my room, a little fooling around while she checked out my cock and made sure it was worthwhile shucking her uniform. Then she'd climb atop my bed, and we'd be banging away. It wasn't her fault, I suppose. Rosalie had other duties apart from drawing the swelling out of my turgid cock-duties that kept her hopping about the big house. And there was always the danger that too much time in my room would make somebody suspicious-namely Dear Old Dad.
Thinking back, I realize now that Rosalie didn't dare lie around and spend a whole afternoon turning on with me, even if she could have stolen the time without anyone finding out. Rosalie was such a perfectly engineered-for-fucking piece of dark meat that my inexperienced eagerness couldn't look at her with her clothes on without imminent danger of starching my shorts. If I'd spent an entire afternoon alone with Rosalie, reveling in her uninterrupted nudity, I'd have erupted so many times I'd have been a dry bagged impotent by fourteen and a half! No wonder she had often slipped in for a quickie, just slipping out of her panties and not even giving me a feel of her fine, upstanding boobs. Without even looking at her warm desirable body, just the touch of that tongueable ass on the tip of my tool was enough to send me into spurting, hurting, squirting explosion.
Brigitta was such a contrast-all creamy white where Rosalie had been dark and inviting. It was like soul food and a dairy lunch. Brigitta's well-muscled muffin was furred over with the same shade of pale golden blonde that adorned her fine Teutonic head. Wagner and the rest of the Herrenvolk would have creamed their jeans and taken up a new hobby if they could have seen her as I did now, diving between my legs, pulling my acquiescent head between hers, grab-assing in happy abandon.
Abandon because she had finally abandoned her hopes for a hard-on. I floated on the surface of the pool, sunning my shriveled skewer, laughing at Brigitta's wistful attempts to nuzzle some life into my numb nubbin. Swimming around me, under me, through my legs, she kissed it. She caught it between her lovely ballet-muscled legs and squeezed. She clenched the cheeks of her taut ass over it.
Brigitta floated beside me. She got me on my side and clamped my super cooled cock between her up jutting forties. She rolled her supremely edible tits around over it, massaging it, trying to warm it. She paddled f with one hand to keep afloat while her other caressed my passion pouch, tenderly tickling my faithful family retainer in a vain hope of building a fire under my dormant dong.
Ah, it was lovely. I suppose it would have been different if I'd really wanted to perform, but I was satiated, fucked out, totally and completely content with my dry bagged destiny. If it wanted to come back up again, let it. But not too easily. It was doing Brigitta good to eat a little humble pie. It did her less good when she tried to eat me.
I relaxed, floating while she fastened her lips over my spike, savored the tender technique of her nibbling. She licked my cock. She took a deep diver's breath and dived to lick my hard shrunk balls. She licked my asshole and finally came up panting for air. My dick was dead as last night's beer.
Brigitta peeled back my foreskin, frowned at the head of my cock shriveled to peanut size by the cold creek water.
She licked my naked dick and for an instant I felt the memory of desire. But the memory wasn't strong enough to overcome my exhaustion, my satiation, my thrill drill's chill.
Meanwhile, back on the blanket, Carol and little Ann were reviving. Smeared from head to foot with the remainders of love's labor lost, they headed for the pool, too. I waited for the melee to start, but this time Brigitta was subdued. She didn't push or shove or hog more than her fair share of a cock that had to go three ways.
Carol's lean gawky body was even more cock stiffening when she swam with fish-like grace beneath the surface. She poked a playful finger at my tight shrunk asshole and laughed as I clenched upon it and towed her about the pool. Little Ann blocked my progress with her crotch. I collided nose to clit and nibbled for a moment before I had to come up for breath. Even underwater I could see the freckles on her sparsely haired labia. Licking her tight little target, I momentarily forgot about the pool. My mind flipped back to that starship-back to Nadine's tender cherry about to be invaded by the yards-long yoyo-like phallus of a seven-foot coal black stud who claimed to be female!
Nadine lay on the bed, face up, knees flexed. I was still wrapped around her ass as per the alien's instructions. Feeling her cool cunt, I realized Nadine was expecting no pleasure from this encounter. After all, the alien was supposed to be female in spite of three or four yards of coiled cock. And Nadine was thoroughly freaked on boys-or rather, on men.
The alien crawled between her legs in the classic position. His cock stopped its cattail lashing, and that black-petaled dandelion head zeroed in on my double reinforced crotch. At first I thought she was going to slip up one of my leg openings like last time, but no. That funny black cock was pushing on me, forcing me into Nadine's dainty dimple.
It was the oddest feeling. Here I had always been a man who went only for girls. Any size, shape, color, age, but girls! And yet I could feel that tremendous triphammer of a cock poking its way into me, pushing me out of shape, stretching me thin as a condom. That throbbing, thumping thud bludgeon was going to drive me right up Nadine's twittering twat!
Then, suddenly, I realized it wasn't going to. Maah Moetotolo's three-yard thrill drill's multi-petaled head was dividing, splitting into microscopic hairs that were passing through my porous weave. On the other side of my reinforced crotch, that retractable rod was coming together again, stretching and shrinking itself pencil thin to sneak through the tiny opening at the edge of Nadine's still intact cherry.
It was the first time anything beyond a vivid imagination had ever gotten into lovely Nadine's pristine pussy. She was getting her first fuck, and, with luck, would still come out of it with a whole hymen. Nadine was finally getting something my money couldn't buy her!
In spite of its odd genesis, Nadine was experiencing a subtle turn-on with this penetration. I could tell from the way blood coursed through her labia, started her limp clitoris to throbbing. I made a tongue and rasped it rapidly around her swelling clit. Nadine's breathing quickened.
There was a sudden deep sighing gusty moan from the alien. I felt a tremor run through the thousand disconnected strands of black cock that ran through me like microscopic needles. "Is something wrong?" Nadine asked.
"I have found sperm, " the alien said.
"Good. Did you get it all?"
"Not yet, but I shall."
"I hope you don't have to bring it out through my mouth, " Nadine said.
"You have given me release and much pleasure," Maah Moetotolo said. "I shall cause you no discomfort. I shall instead-"
Rather than explain, the alien twisted his/her surprisingly agile body around until a black mouth was locked over Nadine's comely cunt. Then his prodigious prod, having scoured the last atom of come from her innards, reversed itself. The black dandelion head forced its way back out through me, regrouped, and Maah Moetotolo licked her own cock clean of whatever part of Dr. Joris' misfire had gotten into my lovely Nadine. He/she felt me busily rasping away on Nadine's clit, and the lesson was not lost.
"My needs are satisfied," Moetotolo said. "Now I can give pleasure until you, too, are quiescent. What turns you on?"
These aliens learn their English in the goddamnedest places. While Nadine was trying from many descriptions to put together her own virginal vision of a fuck in a way that a female with a three yard cock could understand I went to work on Moetotolo's man shaming muffin splitter, squeezing, prodding, shaping until this surprisingly intuitive female (?) got the message.
Finally the alien's cock was shrunk back down to eight inches and swollen out to the diameter of a good human hard-on-except for the bit right through Nadine's hymen. That stayed thin as ever. Just inside her cherry and just outside it Nadine was experiencing a stiff, human style, stud prick just as I had always longed to give her.
Gently, the alien began pumping, running the thin section up and down in time to keep her hymen intact and still give the illusion of a solid chunk of raw meat. I could feel the love's juices flow as Nadine began to turn on with the first full fledged fuck in her short but interesting life. "Ooooooohhh, Mr. Gast!" she sighed. "It's wonderful!"
It gave me a pleasant feel of accomplishment. After all, it isn't many pairs of nylon panties can give a girl that kind of pleasure. I began pinching her labia, patting her ass and rubbing any spot I could reach that Moetotolo wasn't already taking care of.
Nadine's breath came shorter. Life's lovely juices flowed freely from her blushing flower. Her tight stretched cherry pushed in and out with each stroke, never quite breaking, holding her teetering over the exquisite edge of an unbearable pleasure-pain. The alien was good for hours. I was pretty durable, too. How long would Nadine last? I stretched a tongue of myself up from my waistband to invade her deep navel. Nadine emitted a choking moan of pure passionate pleasure. Goddamn! After all my years of planning and spending money, she was finally getting it! I felt the alien cock flow another couple of inches through me. He/she was expanding, branching out to explore every pleat and fold of Nadine's vibrant vagina, running titillating tendrils up to tempt her cervical gateway. Nadine's long-deprived womb was throbbing, pulsing, quivering its frantic need. "Ooooooohhhhhh, Mr. Gast!" she wailed. "Ooooooohhhh, it's finally happening!"
Nadine's bobbing bottom, her sudden discovery of deeper delights than she had imagined-it all reminded me of that day in the pool with Brigitta.
We had been grab-assing around in the cold water, three girls working together for once, not pushing or crowding as they tried to give me a hard-on. Meanwhile, that water was really cold.
"Look, girls," I finally said. "Fun's fun, but it isn't fucking. Even if I could raise a hard-on here, I doubt if I could force it into one of those shrunken pumpkinseeds you re all wearing instead of cunts. What say we go back to the dorm and the low grav pad?"
It took the girls all of a second to agree. Not even bothering with clothes, they straddled the horses and we flagged ass back. Prissy beard and his car were gone. By the time we had stabled the horses and walked back to the dorm, I was almost through shivering.
The satin sheeted round gym mat lay in shadow but as the sensing mechanism in the doorway felt us enter the pad became gradually bathed in its usual rosy glow. Whoever designed the thing had been thinking about hiding the sag marks and wrinkles to give middle-aged sports the illusion of youth. The low grav helped keep busts from sagging, too.
Eleven-year-old Ann didn't need it. Fourteen-year-old Brigitta sagged just enough to be interesting-she'd sag any older man into instant insanity just rubbing against him. And Carol. Goddamn! Look at that flowering body, her long black horsetail hair, her well-furred black pussy, her breast bumps stretched to the absolute limit of symmetry before they would begin to sag into miniature ski jumps. It took quite a cock not to jerk itself erect and trumpet "charge " at the mere sight of such adolescent perfection.
But I had that cock. My balls were still shrunken to near invisibility from the cold water. My cock was peanut sized. My satiation was complete. Who cared? Three girls, that's who!
I didn't. I ran across the dorm and took a running flat dive onto the mat. The quarter grav slowed my fall until I nearly sailed clear across out onto the dorm floor and full grav. Then I felt hands grabbing my legs, holding me back. Bare assed, freckle cunted Ann dived between my legs, nibbled around and finally found my chilled drill. Her tiny eager mouth fastened over it. She didn't waste time sucking or licking or chewing. Just kept her mouth over it until my frazzled flagpole could warm up and feel again.
Brigitta's ballet legs did a slow motion arabesque over me, putting the inner surfaces of her widespread thighs in smooth rubbing contact with my mouth, slowing slightly while I gave her gash a good humored gobble. Meanwhile, lovely, gangling Carol was kissing my ears, my eyes, the back of my neck as her busy fingers found their way around my balls, up my ass, tickled their way up and down my ribs.
While Brigitta collected herself for another leap, I was afforded a luscious juicy mouthful of Carol's fine-furred brunette cunt. Then Brigitta was back, this time slowly dragging her fine, firm, upstanding forties across my chest, across my eyes, across my lips. I nibbled nipples, chewing gently as the blonde-braided Valkyrie moaned and squirmed her screw hungry body into fantastic prick stiffening postures trying to get her cunt into biting distance without foregoing the tit-chewing titillation I was giving her.
Meanwhile, freckle cunted little Ann hung from my cock like a hooked fish that's ceased to struggle. I clamped my thighs gently over her ears, and she responded by pursing her lips over my still dormant prick. It was warm now, back to normal room temperature size, but nowhere near a hard-on. I felt little Ann's tiny teeth deftly skinning back my foreskin. Still she did nothing, content to let my baldheaded box opener rest in the warm moisture of her mind blowing mouth.
Now I was kissing Carol's lovely navel, working my way up to her pointy jugs, back down again for a taste of her quivering quiff. Suddenly her well-haired cunt contracted, fibrillated, blushed bright red with passion's pulse. "OH!" she shrieked, a single sharp explosive sound, and life's liquid gushed in raging rivulets from her too-ready rose. I gave her eager ass a pat that sent her cartwheeling to the sidelines. Brigitta was back in the game.
She came on strong, rubbing her tremendous tits over my face, around my ears, the back of my neck, meanwhile jackknifing her hundred-twenty pounds of poundability to get her ravishing rump within biting distance. My hands were so busy fondling the fine fuck provoking form of her tits I could only snap at her ass. Finally, my teeth fastened on one smooth skinned creamy cheek. I began nibbling my way to home plate.
I began to feel a familiar tingle in my loins. Little Ann must have sensed the rebirth of raunch too, for her gentle little mouth began sliding smoothly up and down my rod as her tongue started its titillating trip around the tip of my reborn rammer. It was like that time with Nadine....
That foot or so of multi-branched black cock up Nadine's virginal vagina was driving her into shivering, shaking, shimmying, shuddering, shell-shocked, shot-wadded short circuit.
Nadine's tortured twat was emitting constant trickles of come. Nadine was emitting little coos and trills like some demented canary. I stretched myself and once more augured a nylon tongue into her navel, collecting my reward when she cooed "Ooooooohhhh, Mr. Gast! Do it again!"
The big black alien had reeled in most of her (?) cock. Her muscular hips were slamming against Nadine's lovely, virgin cunt in a very convincing imitation of a man in the throes of passion. But between them as I was, in the seat of the action, I knew what fantastic control it required to keep the thin spot in that marvelously mobile mindblower rippling up and down in time to preserve my lovely Nadine's cherished cherry.
Finally, Nadine had had it. So, I guessed, had I. My lovely nurse, Nadine of the long blonde hair, Nadine of eighteen unblemished summers, of the body built for fucking, lovely sylph of heart-shaped face and cock-raising smile, Nadine of arrogant aureoles crowning firm, skyward pointing ski-jump tits had had it.
She still had her cherry, but her depths had been plumbed, her passions probed, her pussy palpitated by a prick that passeth human understanding. Utterly drained, she lay sprawled atop that immense fucking-is-a-major-industry bed, unknowing, uncaring as Maah Moetotolo gently withdrew her (?) cock from Nadine's ravished rump, pulled it slowly through my porous crotch, and removed herself.
Nadine gave a gusty sigh of satiation as the alien's muscular pelvis vacated her cockpit. By the time Moetotolo was back in her (?) jockstrap and cape Nadine had recovered enough to thank her, bid her a happy, sleepy good-bye, and say, "Any time you need sperm, let me know. I'll collect a little and then-everything I have is yours!"
"I shall remember," the dusky-skinned alien promised gravely. "You also have my gratitude. I hope I gave you equal pleasure."
The door closed silently. Nadine staggered dreamily about the suite, fighting the temptation to fall asleep. Finally she mustered enough energy to go into the bath. Moments later she emerged saying something un-lady-like she'd probably learned from me. Behind her the logical consequences of a plugged drain came trickling out of the bath and across the floor.
"Send a plumber, quick!" Nadine snapped.
"At once," the wall of her suite answered. In its mirrored surface I saw Nadine slump exhaustedly on the bed, still wearing only me.
Moments later a knock came. "Somebody want a plumber?"
Nadine sprang awake and opened the door. Only when it was open did she realize she wasn't quite dressed to receive callers.
The plumber was a football-player type of young man who looked sleepier than Nadine. His hair was uncombed and he was in a foul temper. "Twenty goddamn hours without a break," he grumbled. "Where is it?" Then he saw where the water was trickling from.
Nadine reached for a robe, then realized he hadn't given her bare body more than one startled glance. Already he was padding through ankle-deep water. He put his tool box down on the john and took out a pocket-sized oscilloscope.
"I'm sure I didn't get anything in it," Nadine said. "I can't imagine why it's plugged."
"Of course you didn't get anything in it," the plumber said. "This isn't the stone age. Anything gets through the opening of one of these drains it has to go the rest of the way through to the re-claimer."
"Then what's wrong?"
"Goddamn grav suppressor cut out."
'The what?"
"The grav suppressor!" the sleepy young plumber snapped. "How the fuck do you think water flows downward in a starship without something to tell it which way's down?"
"Oh, I didn't know," Nadine said.
"Neither does anybody else, including the captain of this fucking bucket. Everybody thinks I'm going to poke a corkscrew down a hole and come up with a piece of rag like that one wrapped round your ass." The plumber poked an electrical probe down into the water, growled obscenities at the sine wave on the scope tube, and twiddled knobs. Abruptly water slurped hungrily down the hole. Odd arms and levers emerged from the walls to squeegee water from the carpets and help it on its way back to the re-claimer.
The plumber wiped his bleary eyes and put his tools away. "Just starting to dream of a nice juicy piece of ass," he growled. "Least you could do is help me get back to sleep."
Nadine studied his surly face and called his bluff. "Help yourself," she said, "If it'll make you feel any better."
The plumber gawked a moment, then decided she wasn't kidding. Suddenly his surly face was just sad. "Can't," he said.
"What's wrong? Some rule against fraternizing with the paying guests?"
"It isn't that," the young man sighed. "Trouble is, I'm only half human."
"Oh?"
"What the hell," the plumber said. "It's easier to show you." He unzipped his white coveralls and out flopped his cock. It looked perfectly human to me. A little big, but then he was a big man. He had about half a hard-on.
"Is that as big as it gets?" Nadine asked. Despite her exhaustion of a minute ago, Nadine was interested.
The plumber stepped forward and put his ham-sized paws over Nadine's bare ski-jump tits. He twiddled her nipples absently, then bent over to kiss them. I saw his cock start to grow. When he straightened, Nadine saw it, too. Sonofabitch!
What had looked like an ordinary if somewhat large human cock had grown into something inhuman. I wondered if someone had managed to cross the human strain with those eggbeater-cocked gigoloids who made a living on far Antaresby consoling rich widows for something they'd never had to lose. This boy's cock was still a human-sized hard-on. But the head of his throbbing rod had opened like an umbrella. If he tried, he could probably get it in Nadine, but once the ribs in that umbrella dug into her cunt they might be together a long time.
"You see?" he said hopelessly.
Nadine saw. So did I. No wonder the poor bastard was unhappy. He looked human, was probably only turned-on by human type females. He was surrounded by them. In his work he probably came across them just like Nadine, all ready for a bath, naked, but with anything apart from fucking on their minds. I could hardly blame him for being surly. He was in even worse shape than blonde-braided Brigitta, the fourteen year old Valkyrie with the forty-inch tits and the corps de ballet legs.
Brigitta had been sliding her lovely body around me like a lecherous leech, and so far she hadn't been able to provoke a hard-on. Humility was something new for this arrogant-assed super fuck. She was still having a little trouble getting used to it. Yet Brigitta knew perfectly well I'd throw her out of the game if she started pushing or crowding the other two girls. Brigitta understood everything perfectly, except one minor thing. She didn't understand that her grabbable body plus Carol's gangling gash plus bare-labiaed Ann's mouth over my muffin splitter were finally coaxing it back into the land of the living, the breathing, the panting, the lusting, the fucking.
So far only little Ann knew that, and her mouth was too busy blowing lusty pizzicatos on my flute to waste time shouting the good news.
I felt it grow in trembling jerks, savored the tender round-and-round rub of Ann's tiny tongue on the tip of my tool. Her eager hands got into the act, caressing my balls, counting the hairs, running a tickling finger up the tender trigger that extends from scrotum to scupper. Her enthusiasm grew. She poked a finger halfway up my ass, and I lunged involuntarily, driving my burgeoning bludgeon past her palate and damn near uprooting her tonsils.
Ann was a game little girl. She did her best not to retch. She kept it in there, trying to swallow. Each contraction of her throat muscles sent a thrill up my spine like I hadn't felt since Brigitta's fuck-muscled uterus usurped the other two girls' rightful position on this quarter grav hunching pad.
But Brigitta felt my passion-filled push down little Ann's throat. She saw Ann fighting not to vomit my cock, and knew my virility was restored. Hungrily, she eyed my erection going to waste down Ann's gargling, gagging gullet.
Carol saw it, too. She eyed Brigitta; gangling, eminently fuckable brunette against long braided, full-bodied, equally fuckable blonde Valkyrie. Two cunts versus one hard-on. Who would get it? For a moment I thought fisticuffs would erupt again. Then the girls subsided. Each looked hopefully at me. What could I do?
Either girl was a fulltime occupation-even for a five-shots-a-day fourteen year old. I wanted to fuck both of them, but I knew I'd never get it up again today. Whichever I poked, the gangling brunette with the slight, half grown tits, or the full-bodied blonde in the prime of her brief span of affability, no sooner would I start than I'd wish I'd picked the other one. Thinking back, I look upon it as the age of happy problems.
I lay flat on my back, legs widespread to give little Ann working room on my un-wilted wick. What to do? Bouncing gently up and down in the quarter gravity, I got a hand in Carol's black-haired crotch, the other hand in Brigitta's blonde cock pocket. Hefting each ass at arms length in the fractional gravity, I still couldn't decide. Finally I tossed Carol and Brigitta upward, ass over applecart, giving each a spin as they left my hands. "Heads gets the tail, " I shouted.
Watching them twist and turn, trying frantically to land heads up in their slow motion cartwheeling, I got to laughing so hard my precarious hard-on began shrinking. I lunged it another half inch down little Ann's gallantly gagging gullet and tried to concentrate on her tiny fingers deftly counting the hairs on my balls while her thumb poked my asshole.
Despite their superhuman struggles, Carol and Brigitta both came down the wrong way. They picked themselves up and step-glided over onto my upraised palms again. This time, through some happy accident, each cunt captured a finger. Comparing their contractile efforts, I shotputted blonde and brunette into the rose lit air above the passion pad again. This time they spun and gyrated with the same mad abandon and both came up heads. It was discouraging.
They came back, and I grabbed each by a tit and slung her away. I guess Brigitta's full-fashioned forties gave me a slightly better grip than did Carol's brown-nippled, slight, sagless cones like miniature volcanoes. The blonde-braided Valkyrie spun farther, but she came up heads, while Carol, trying frantically to turn in mid-air still lit tits down, bumping to a gentle stop on her turgid nipples. And there went the ball game. I wondered if my balls would be up to the next inning.
Carol gently disengaged little Ann's avid mouth from my disputed dick. Then she stood aside, looking wistful as Brigitta straddled me and settled her robust rump carefully and delicately across my crotch.
Smooooooth sailing, slick sliding, sweet, savory sense of-sonofabitch! I'd forgotten about that bear trap up in Brigitta's ball breaking box. I felt my rigid rod pushing, straining upward against her cervix as Brigitta sat her creamy cunt down astraddle me. Too late I sensed that tearing, bursting, cherry-tearing penetration. My cock was fair caught.
Brigitta wore a small secret smile like a cat with a mouthful of canary feathers as she bounced gently up and down checking the fit. Then I felt that oh-so-good grinding. It was nice. Hell, it was wonderful, but I was no longer in control of the situation. Brigitta had my hog snorter locked into her, hogtied until such time as she saw fit to release it. All she had to do was squeeze and crunch away on the tight-noosed tip of my tool. As long as she kept me turned on, that noose would keep my swollen cock captive in her seething honeypot. Maybe even afterward, if she wanted to be mean about it.
I shot despairing glances at Carol and little Ann, but, though they knew Brigitta, neither of them had ever had a cock caught in her, so they couldn't imagine the full extent of her bitchery. I relaxed, closed my eyes, and tried to ignore it all. After all, it'd been quite a project just to work up this hard-on. If I could do multiplication tables or logarithms or differential calculus, maybe my wick would wilt and I could escape total destruction in Brigitta's blast furnace. Maybe....
Who could ignore Brigitta's well-muscled cunt massaging the masculinity out of his cock? Maybe forty years later, but I wasn't having much success at fourteen. She leaned over me, crooning crotch canticles, dragging her stiff-nippled forties across my unwilling face.
My cock was still hung up in Joy Junction. Suddenly, I realized Brigitta had won this round fair and square. I'd done the tossing. If she wanted to shred my standpipe and end it without the shrieking, quivering ecstasy I'd given her the last time when my dick had preserved full mobility ... well, whatever turned her on. I closed my eyes, relaxed, and decided to let her shuck my peanut as soon as possible. Why fight it? Come, and I'd shrivel enough to slide out of that cervical snare so cunningly concealed up there in the upper reaches of cunt country.
Somehow some hint of my strategy must have soaked through Brigitta's slightly thickened Teutonic skull. Suddenly she cooled that rapturous rasping. Her cervical snare released its hold and my cock slid back down into man's best friend. And that woke my interest. When she would let anyone, Brigitta was really man's best friend-the without doubt the best fuck I'd experienced since Rosalie. And considering my grand total of four asses, number two ain't bad. And now that Brigitta had realized her snare technique wasn't going to work any more, number two was trying harder.
I got a grip on her burgeoning hips, ran my cock slowly in and out a couple of times getting the range. Then I began twisting it, working my rigid rod slantwise into all the unused folds and creases of Brigitta's cream cheese cunt. My blonde-braided Valkyrie's breath started coming a little faster. Her firm, full-fashioned forties rose and fell in time to her passionate panting. Each time I bottomed, her snapping cock trap nipped at the head of my cuntrol tower, sometimes holding me for an instant, throwing off my timing and making me miss a stroke. But Brigitta had apparently learned her lesson, for she didn't try to snare me for her usual leisurely shredding which, whatever it might do for me, couldn't do for her what my slow thorough reaming, my search and destroy tactics were doing for odd corners of her seething cock pocket.
Brigitta's breathing became hectic. She threw her head back, pushed her full-fashioned pectoral pillows in my face, I nibbled nipples while she bounced up and down, bumped and ground on my rampant rod. She made gurgling groaning sounds like water finding its way down a half stopped drain.
Carol and little Ann volunteered their services. Little Ann wormed her way around Brigitta, plugging odd orifices with tongue and fingers, doing her best to reduce the brick-shithouse blonde's riddled responses to sheer anarchy. Meanwhile, Carol went to work on me. While my cock pounded and slammed its way up Brigitta's creamy cunt, little Ann took over the blonde-braided Valkyrie's milking-sized knockers, kissing, rubbing, caressing the fourteen-year-old fireball farther into wailing screaming ecstasy.
Carol filled the breach, giving me luscious mouthfuls of her own firm little tits while she kissed my eyes, my mouth, augured her tongue in my ears, licked my own nipples and ran one busy hand up and down my flanks while screwing another finger up my asshole.
Brigitta's cunt quivered uncontrollably. Suddenly she cut loose with a pure, sustained "a" above high "c". Her ravishing rump bounced around with such enthusiasm that for a moment I thought I'd be thrown out.
But Brigitta wasn't that far gone. She was riding me, bucking and throwing, tossing me every way but out. Her cervical snare was snapping now like a decapitated turtle, nipping frantically but uncontrollably on my joyous jock. I felt my prostate's gathering storm. Any minute now....
Suddenly Brigitta's "a" above high "c" went up an octave. Little Ann's busy fingers helped her along, and suddenly the blond braided Valkyrie was just so much dead meat around my dong. Her cunt fluttered, fibrillated like the last quiver of life in a dying chicken. Brigitta had achieved release and unconsciousness in the same breath.
But I hadn't. I gave a tremendous bucking lunge and she sailed limply away in the quarter grav. Carol's gangling legs spread, waiting for me. I dived and connected with a solid meaty thud, ramming my ass jammer up to the hilt in Carol's ready rump. "Ooooooooohhh!" she moaned, "Harder, deeper!"
What the hell did she think I was, a rope factory? I pulled out, fed her a slow stroke or two, then decided to hell with it. I'd go for the fall. I began slamming, cramming, jamming, wham bamming my raging rod into her fine haired brunette bottom. Carol's tits seesawed across my face as she wriggled in frantic abandon. Her finger came out of my ass. Suddenly little Ann was there. She had abandoned the inert Valkyrie and returned to the seat of the action. Anywhere I had an opening there was little Ann with a tongue or finger doing her best to disorganize me. Goddamn, she was the busiest little girl.
My cock was socking it to Carol, scraping and scouring her tender twat, roaming in the foam of her orgiastic abandon. Suddenly Carol was shrieking, too, keening a single sustained high note well above Brigitta's Wagnerian effort. Then my gangling brunette, Carol of the black horsetail hair and cunt, Carol of improbably symmetrical cones where most females have sagging tits-Carol had fainted, too. And my throbbing rod was still seeking release. I bucked her off and slammed it into little Ann's cozy crotch. Even in my frenzy I noticed once again the freckles on her little-girl labia.
My God, she had a tight little twat. My raging rigidity pushed, lunged, grunted, forced its throbbing way bit by agonizing bit. It hurt so much I wished I could come right there and spray my sperm over her half grown gash like the good doctor had over Nadine. But I had reached a plateau of passion where I couldn't come-and as long as there was one fuckable female within running distance, I couldn't lose this hard-on.
Little Ann was willing. She pushed, grunted, tried her best to relax and let my urgent erection into her. Bit by bitter bit, I made it. Suddenly, I was past the barrier, and it thucked home the rest of the way, slamming her practically hairless cunt down hard on my pelvic bone. She gave a gleeful groan. I felt like giving one, too, but suddenly I knew I was going to come. And now I didn't want to. It wouldn't be fair to little Ann. Hell, it wouldn't be fair to me! When would I ever again experience a twinkling little twat this nice, this tight, this eager to please? I clenched my ass and fought to control my come. Finally I dared pull out a little. Ann's tiny twat was so stretched around my rampant rod that it started to turn inside out instead of slide off my quiff splitter. I pushed back in again. The edges of her cunt lips puckered and tried to go in with me.
Cautiously, I poked in and out, barely moving. Suddenly little Ann was squealing again. "Eeeeeee, Kellyyyyy!" she shrieked. "It feels like I'm gonna peeeeee!"
Aha! So little Ann was finally old enough to find out what it was like to come. I bent down and kissed her tiny, just-sprouting tits. I ran a diddling finger up her asshole. I prodded her quivering clit with my thumb. And all the while I kept lunging, ramming, slamming, gradually lengthening my strokes as life's juices flowed to lubricate our joyous conjunction.
My own rod was doing its best. Ann's novice notch was flowing, too. I was making almost full length strokes now, fighting against a too rapid finish, clenching my crotch against the tremor that threatened to end this tight cunted ecstasy.
Then Ann released a deep-voiced, full throated scream. She flopped clumsily, like a freshly gaffed salmon, and went suddenly limp. Life's liquor leaked round my rigidity. Little Ann had come. Like the other two girls she had also fainted, leaving me high and dry. I rammed my cock into her limp, lifeless cunt a couple of times. It was hopeless. I tried to buck her off like I had the other two, but even in the total relaxation of unconsciousness little Ann's tiny twat was so tight I couldn't snap my turgid tool out of it.
I tried again. Her tiny cunt started to turn inside out. I stopped, afraid I'd hurt her. She moaned and lunged weakly, still trying to fuck in her faint. Then suddenly I felt a familiar fingernail stabbing up the crack between balls and asshole. Somebody knew how to turn me off. "Rosalie!" I yelled.
Wearing a navy blue traveling suit that almost covered her brown ass, Rosalie stood behind me grinning, still stabbing her fingernail up my off switch. I felt my wand wilting.
Rosalie looked at the three passed-out girls. "You do all this? " she asked.
"Yeah."
"Hmmmmmmmm, " Rosalie hummed. "Looks like you been learnin' things."
I guessed I had. "What're you doing here, Rosalie?" I asked. Asking it, I felt my diminishing dick pop out of little Ann's ass with a sound like a champagne cork. Rosalie handed me my clothes. While I dressed, I learned that someone (presumably Rosalie) had seen that Dear Old Dad got a little more information on how this funny farm cum school was run. Now it seemed that Rosalie was back in charge, and by way of apology we were going on a trip together.
"Your daddy isn't feeling too well right now," Rosalie explained. "Else he'd come along."
Yeah. I'd really look forward to that!
"Fact is," she continued, "when he heard about this school, he was so worried he had a little spell. Nothin' serious, you understand. Kind of like a little nervous breakdown, he was that cut up over what he done to you."
"Oh, yeah? " I asked. "Where is he?"
"Nowhere yet, but he's goin' in a place just as soon as they got room. They makin' room right now."
We got into Rosalie's ground car, and that was the last I ever saw of the funny farm, of Prissy beard, or of my second, third, and fourth pieces of ass. I saw quite a lot of Rosalie in the next few weeks, though.
As Prissy beard's funny farm disappeared in the ground car's mirror I remembered Dear Old Dad. "Where's he going? " I asked again.
"Guess," Rosalie said.
I thought a moment. Then Rosalie's grin gave it away. "Goddamn!" I said. "Dear Old Dad would never pass up a chance like that!"
Rosalie laughed.
No wonder I was getting a free hand, a free cock and a free mouthful of Rosalie's lovely brown ass all summer long. Dear Old Dad was having a nervous breakdown so he could come to this funny farm and wet deck me. That was why Rosalie had to get me out in such a hurry. Hah! I'd gotten into his private stock. Now he was getting into mine. Ah, the irony of it all!
Still, I couldn't help laughing. The feel of Rosalie's warm brown hand on my cock made me laugh that much louder. The ground car came to the beach, and its hovercraft skirt descended into fuel conserving position for the run over water to the island. Rosalie fiddled a moment with the autopilot. I looked around. We had the ocean to ourselves. When I looked back again Rosalie was shucking the navy blue traveling suit.
Ah, she was a sight for sore eyes. For sore cocks, too. Mine was still throbbing with unsatisfied desire. Ah, her hand felt nice. Her chocolate brown bazooms stood as far apart and defiantly skyward as I remembered in my pajama starching dreams. I found her navel, kissed it, sucked it in and out while Rosalie cuddled my head and crooned crotch canticles. I kissed my way up to one of those purple nipples, got my mouth over one purple-black bud and felt it swell into a miniature cock under my caressing tongue. I wiggled around until Rosalie helped by poking her other nipple into my eager ear.
Then my nose was bumping Rosalie's again. I remembered in time to twist my face, and we were kissing, swapping tongues in eager abandon. Her smooth muscle slid in and out of me just as I ached to slide my throbbing, jerking jock in and out of Rosalie's firm phallophilic fur box. If I didn't get it into somebody's ass long enough to come, I was going to turn into a bigger nervous breakdown than Dear Old Fraudulent Anything-For-A-Young-Fuck Dad.
Rosalie pushed a button, and the ground car's seats retracted, turning the whole thing into a kingsized bed. Still leading me by our locked-together mouths and her warm brown hand on my purple straining pecker, she lay back. Bracing myself with a hand on each of Rosalie's lovely jugs, I continued swapping tongues while her hand guided me into man's best friend. It was welcome home week as I sank gently, softly, pleasantly down, down, down into her warm, yielding cunt, savoring the secret slit that had emancipated me from fucking my fist. Though I split thousands of quiffs in later years, I never found another one quite as warm and soft and smooth and creamy and provoking as good old Rosalie's.
I poked in and out, reveling in Rosalie's femininity, her pleasant, undemanding fuckability. I slid it in slow. I slid it in fast. I poked it in corner ways, screwed it around hunting unexplored folds and wrinkles. I rammed deep, trying to find her cervix. And through it all, Rosalie's ass rocked gently in time to my beat, doing just what I needed for a prolonged, friendly, deliciously dilatory fuck. I felt I could go on forever. Nevertheless, I was tiring. It had been a busy day. Rosalie felt my tiredness, too. Maybe she felt my dick softening slightly.
"Child," she said, "if you don't come soon, you gonna have an ache that'll make you want to die all night."
"I'm sorry, Rosalie," I said. "Maybe-" I hesitated. I'd blown all these other girls but Rosalie. She was something special, something gentle. Maybe she didn't know about blowjobs.
But lovely brown skinned Rosalie read my mind. She poked another button and plumbing appeared in one corner of the ground car. She washed herself, then me. Then Rosalie stretched out on her side just as she had once before months ago when my still untried cock had twitched and jerked and its dribbly tip had drawn smeary snail tracks on Rosalie's firm, fuckable belly.
Only this time it was head to toe. Or, more exactly, it was head to crotch. As old Kipling once put it, "There are nine and sixty ways of constructing tribal lays. And every single one of them is right."
Rosalie curved her lower leg so I could pillow my head on her thigh. I got an arm under her soft, succulent brown ass. There was a hand strap from the ground car's roof. Rosalie threaded one of my ankles through its loop so that I lay in total relaxation with my crotch spread wide apart.
Crooning a cuntata, lovely brown-assed firm titted Rosalie ran her hand over my balls. She passed her gentle fingers up and down the tender trigger that runs from scrotum to scupper. She poked a prurient finger toward my prostate and turned my crotch to jiggling jelly.
And I was looking straight up Rosalie's rosy gash. I remembered how horrified I'd once been at the thought that it looked good enough to eat. Only now I was going to have my fill of that hefty hunk of hair pie that had haunted my fist fucking reveries since I'd been old enough to raise a hard-on. I put my lips over Rosalie's clit, ran my tongue around it, sucked it in and out, twiddled and diddled it into rosy rigidity. And Rosalie's lush tender thighs came together to rub gently on my ears.
I had both arms around her ass. Hugging, I scuba'd into her lovely muff. In my daydreams, Rosalie had always kicked and screamed when I'd done this. Always somebody had heard her outraged commotion and come bursting through the locked door, and it had always been horrible. But Rosalie wasn't kicking or screaming. I was diving deeper, licking her clit, running my eager tongue up and down her savory slit, auguring into her tender touch hole while lovely gentle Rosalie did everything my secret dreams had ever desired. And she added touches beyond my imagination.
It wasn't like the fuck fests with those three ding-a-ling girls on the funny farm. There I'd been performing, doing my fourteen-year-old best to give at least some satisfaction to each one of the three. But now, with Rosalie....
Rosalie knew I was tired, fucked out. She also knew I had to come at least once more if I wasn't to end up with a screaming stone ache all night. She was doing everything she could to turn me on. There was no bullshit about who comes first or timing or any of the other shared-pleasure crap. This was strictly selfish-for me. Rosalie knew she'd make up for it some other day.
While I dived, reveled, groveled in her fabulous cunt, abandoning myself to an orgiastic frenzy of chewing, licking, kissing, sucking, glorying in the feel of those edible thighs around my ears, Rosalie was working on my wide open crotch. Her gentle fingers counted hairs on my balls, tickled my asshole, stroked the underside of my weary warhorse. One of my feet pushed against the wall of the ground car. The other strained in the loop of strap where Rosalie had hung it.
I tried to relax, but it was impossible. Rosalie's educated hands had me straining, pushing, heaving. A spasm drove my nose still deeper into her quivering quiff. I lunged my pelvis forward, poking blindly and Rosalie's lips captured my purple throbbing penis. She licked the sensitive tip of my foreskin. Her teeth nibbled gently, gradually working their way back around as she gobbled my knob. Teeth bit deeper. I thrust again and felt my foreskin peeling back.
Rosalie's tongue touched my baldheaded cock, tenderly titillating it in time with my telegraphed signals to her turgid clit. Their work done, her teeth abandoned my cock to the ministrations of her slick sliding lips. Rosalie's hands gripped my ass just as I embraced hers. Only I was pulling myself in deeper, diving, licking, reveling, exulting in her juicy, succulent, supremely suckable slash.
Rosalie was restraining my frantically bucking pelvis. Holding me at arms' length she licked my dick. She licked my balls, got them clear inside her mouth and gently chewed. She kissed her way up and down my tortured tool, nibbling it like an ear of corn. She licked its bald head. She kissed it. She ran her lips up and down it, tried to swallow it.
Oh, was it ever good! But I wasn't coming. It reminded me of the day six months ago when I'd stood with binoculars focused on Rosalie sunbathing and I'd whacked away, fucking my fist for a solid hour trying for my sixth orgasm that dim dead day in the six-months-old past. How could I have guessed then that one day I'd not only have fucked my lovely fetish, I'd have her sucking me!? Goddamn! In one of those odd double thinks, it finally came to me that all this was really happening-that I wasn't just dreaming or wishing.
This was Rosalie's long-coveted ass, and I was in it to the eyebrows. Her smooth athletic thighs were gently squeezing my ears. Rosalie's kissable mouth was kissing my cock, sucking it, eating it, biting it, swallowing it. And why wasn't I coming?
My pelvis was bucking in a wild gallop, fighting the restraint of Rosalie's embrace. Her fingers wandered to my crack and for an instant I feared her fingernail would stab me on the "off" button and I'd have to start all over again. And then I felt her slick slender finger sliding up my scupper.
I was kissing her clit, lapping her cunt. Arms wrapped around her ass, I was diving so deep it was hard to breathe. Her lovely mouth was blowing lusty pizzicatos on my naked flute. And now a fiddling finger was assaulting my asshole, poking my poor prostate from still another angle.
My prostate surrendered. I felt the preliminary tingle, the sudden cataleptic clamping that presaged an explosion that threatened nuclear dimensions.
I felt the tiny preliminary trickle. Then fire flashed through my groin. I felt my prostate squirm and gather forces like a pitcher winding up. Then came the throw, hard, fast, zinging down my urethra, past my glans, a screaming pulsing whistling jet, hard and white as a fire hose, roaring, ramming, all-flattening as it scored a perfect hit on Rosalie's palate.
Since then, I've learned how many otherwise perfect blowjobs are spoiled by that last minute delicacy that jerks free and spills seed on defenseless sheets and pillows. Rut not good old Rosalie. She was in there licking, swallowing, stroking my balls and poking my ass, milking the last lascivious drop of come from me as my bucking pelvis lunged, plunged, drove past her palate, past her tonsils, squirted and spurted down her gullet as Rosalie gulped, swallowed, drew my raging plunging pecker even farther in.
I felt lips and teeth close behind my scrotum. Goddamn! Balls and all! I was pushing, straining, paining, hurting and spurting, emptying my balls, my soul, my psyche. And I was laughing, gigging, emitting a hysterical high pitched whinny.
I could feel Rosalie's belly heaving, feel her open cunt roll in rippling waves across my questing face and suddenly I knew Rosalie was laughing, too. This was what fucking was all about. It was supposed to be fun, to take people's minds off their troubles and make them laugh. For the first time in my life I wondered how so many bad novels had managed to get written about people who fucked one another and never seemed to get anything but pain and suffering from it.
Finally my bucking, fucking, rutting spasm was ended. Rosalie disgorged my shrinking cock and wiped her mouth. She wiped me, and we lay, relaxed and exhausted, with my cock still in her hand. And I still couldn't stop laughing. The feel of Rosalie's warm brown hand on my cock made me laugh that much louder. It was just like the feel of-Thinking of pain and suffering suddenly reminded me of where I was, around my lovely blonde-haired, ski jump-titted, eminently fuckable but still virgin Nadine.
CHAPTER TWELVE
And Nadine's hand was on the surly young plumber's umbrella-headed whang. "Haven't you ever had it in an Earth woman?" she asked.
"Not since I was eleven," the plumber growled. "And she screamed for four solid hours while a gynecologist poked around with a speculum and a couple of abalone irons getting it out."
"What happened?" Nadine asked.
"It was great," the plumber growled in his bass voice. "Until I finished and tried to pull out. Then the barbs in this umbrella head dug in, and it began to look like 'til death do us part. And to tell the truth, at eleven, I wasn't quite ready for marriage."
"Are you now?"
"No."
"You sound like a man after my own heart," Nadine murmured.
"After your ass is more like it. Goddamn, lady, I really would like to get into you."
"What would you do?"
The young football player type got a faraway look. "In time, I guess, I'd think up all sorts of refinements, but to tell the truth, I've been blown, jacked off, you name it-everything but the real thing for the last fifteen years. What I'd really like to do is bust a nice young virgin-who cares if she's virgin. Somebody like you. I'd like to get it in, fuck myself blue in the face, let it soak a while, fuck some more. By the law of averages I figure I've got about three solid days of fucking built up."
"Without once taking it out?"
"Not until were both good and hungry," the plumber said wistfully.
Nadine stood before the young man in unzipped overalls, still wearing only me around her lovely virginal ass. She still had her hand on his umbrella-headed cock. She thought a moment.
"Mr. Gast," she finally said. "You didn't like Dr. Joris, and I see now you were right. Should I do this?"
What could I say? This young man was honest. But could I let my lovely young virgin, this lovely creature who'd brightened my dying days, in for the inevitable pain that would come when his marathon fuckfest had to end?
"I know you're there," Nadine insisted. "Once for yes, twice for no."
I made a little tongue and flicked her clit three times. Nadine frowned. "Don't know," she murmured.
The football type shifted his feet. "I've got to get back to work," he hinted.
"No," Nadine said firmly. Turning to the wall she said. "The plumber is engaged in special services. Bring a meal for two and two Venus valentines. And we don't want to be disturbed until further notice."
Good for Nadine. She knew what she was getting into. She'd made her choice with her eyes open and was willing to pay the price.
Good for the plumber, too. He said, "Lady, I'd give my ass and soul to fuck you, but, really, it'll hurt when I take it out. It might kill you. I just can't do it."
"Have you ever tried rubbers?"
The plumber gave a sour laugh. "I go through them like wet toilet paper."
"Can't you tie it down with anything?"
"I can, but then there's no fun in it."
"But you only have to fold it up to pull out?"
"That's right. While I'm in there all unfolded I'm god's gift to women."
Suddenly, I felt Nadine taking me off. Goddamn! Already? She helped the plumber out of his coveralls. They touched glasses and sipped Venus valentines. Then I realized what Nadine was going to do.
Stepping out of me, she hefted me in her dainty hand, the hand that had played so often with my dying dick, had guided my aged mouth to lick her lovely cunt. Oh, how I had ached just once to get up that cunt, to dick her like a man instead of licking her like the desiccated dying hulk I had been.
And now she was wrapping me around this hulking young half-human's cock, forcing down the umbrella staves. I was super sheer, super strong. And I could move. Nadine knew what she was doing. "Now Mr. Gast," she instructed, "Once he gets you in there you can crawl up into my womb somewhere out of the way and just rest and enjoy yourself until it's time to wrap around him and come out. I know you'll be nice and help fill in some of the gaps, and you won't take up any more space than a loop or any other of the things girls carry around in there without even feeling them."
I made a tongue and gave Nadine's tiny hand a lick. Then I wrapped myself tighter around the young plumber's cock.
Nadine lay down on the immense fucking-is-a-major-industry bed. She spread her legs and bent her knees. The plumber knelt between them and began pushing. I felt myself stretching like a condom, being pushed and pulled into fantastic new shapes as he rammed at Nadine's cherry. His cock was throbbing and fluttering. "Goddamn, lady," he said. "Are you really a virgin?"
Nadine giggled. There was a sudden rending, tearing, a tiny trickle of blood and I felt myself going up, in, in, deep into the dreamland of Nadine's tender unfucked cunt. "Not any more, I'm not," Nadine said.
So it was over. And now I was wrapped around this hungry stud's cock, being driven up into the farthest reaches of my lovely Nadine's cunt just as I'd wished, willed and dreamed. It had cost me plenty, but it was worth it. Now I was really up in there. Don't ever let anybody tell you money can't buy you happiness. Look where a few million has put me!
