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Subject: The Swimmers (Bi Sex, Hetro Incest, Gang Bang, Anal, Masturbation, Voyuerism, WS
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This has: Bi Sex, Hetro Incest, Gang Bang, Anal, Masturbation,
Voyuerism, WS.
I reserve all rights to this story. It may not be transmitted to the
public by any means (such as posting to the Internet or to newsgroups)
and may not be changed in any way (such as altering the story or title)
without my expressed written permission.
Zombie Night (c) 1989
Send Any Comments To ZombieNight@Hotmail.com
The Swimmers
Chapter 1
"There's a naked girl swimming in the ocean," said the young
man.
The older man chuckled. "That's beach life." Then he did a
double take, as he steered their motorboat into deeper water.
"Naked? No clothes?"
"She's bare all right," said Phil. His binoculars were
plastered on the swimming figure.
"That's new!" said George, the older man, eyes gleaming.
"Even in Atlantic City." Then his eyes dulled. "Probably ugly."
He knew life usually let you down.
Phil Griffin adjusted the glasses, frowning in concentration.
"No. She's luscious. What a . . . breast stroke . . . go
faster."
"Wish I could," said George Panther. "There's a problem with
our gas supply."
The rest of his words were drowned in a roar as Phil reached
over and jerked the throttle of the outboard motor full open. The
motorboat surged forward, drowning out George's, "Hey!"
The swimming figure that Phil wanted to inspect was well out
in the bay, almost halfway to a yacht that rode the waves across
from the Atlantic City boardwalk. The nude swimmer seemed headed
for that yacht.
The roar of the engine made further talk impossible. George
Panther contented himself with steering grimly to avoid running
down the less interesting swimmers here close to shore. By this
time he already had a good idea of who the target swimmer was, and
he knew she'd be mad when they caught up with her. The motorboat
waves would make her bob in the ocean and lose strokes. But he
also knew this Phil Griffin and didn't want to argue.
George shook his head as he watched his young partner. Phil
Griffin was handsome, well-built and impetuous. At twenty-seven
he was one of the best swim trainers for Olympic endurance
swimmers in the nation, but he had this fault . . . .
Right now Phil was both enjoying the sight of the girl's body
and rating her athletic power, George guessed.
He was right about that. "Not bad," said Phil in a murmur
that George couldn't hear. At first Phil had hoped that the
swimmer was Madeleine Metcalf, the women he'd come three thousand
miles to find, but he could see it wasn't her. She was, however,
a powerful swimmer, cleaving the water with a steady two-mile-an-
hour stroke that was professional. And she was sexy.
It would be good to talk to this stranger. Ever since Phil
had left California, he'd feared he might not get his prize
swimmer, Maddy Metcalf back. If not, he'd need a replacement, and
this girl was worth an interview.
Of course Maddy came first. Absolutely. Still, as he scanned
the trim lines of the unknown swimmer, he felt a rising
excitement. Even if she had a trainer, or belonged to a club, he
might get a date. After all, he was a stranger in town with no
black book of numbers to turn to.
Watching Phil with sardonic amusement, George also guessed
Phil's secondary interest. George was Maddy Metcalf's uncle.
She'd told him plenty about her training time with Phil. Phil and
Maddy had worked to get her on the U.S. Olympic swim team two
years ago, in 1924, pointing for the Paris meeting. Gradually
they slipped into a hot affair so heavy that Maddy broke training
and didn't make the team. Afterwards she fled Phil.
For two years Phil had been obsessed with getting Maddy back.
He swore he'd put her in the 1928 Olympics two years from now and
get her two or three gold medals. Maybe, thought George, if Phil
could stay away from sex.
The engine stopped. Just like that. One moment they roared
along, cutting through the waves, gaining on the swimmer. The
next the motor died abruptly and they slithered through the water,
slowing to a stop.
"What's wrong!" cried Phil in agony.
"I told you I was about out of gas," said George. "Full
throttle burns it up too fast. If we'd puttered along . . . ."
Phil glared up, stood up and started to take off his clothes.
"You're going in the water?" asked George, astonished.
Phil stripped rapidly.
"I might as well say hello to her."
Clothes off, Phil wore bathing trunks, not conventional
shorts. Phil never bothered with shorts. He stepped to the edge
of the boat.
"Tell 'em on the yacht to send out some gas," said George.
"I'm stranded."
"Maybe the girl isn't swimming to the yacht."
"She is. That's my backer's daughter, Flair Singleton," said
George.
But Phil was gone, cleaving the water in an expert dive that
left George's motorboat rocking only gently.
Alone in the boat George pondered the situation as he watched
Phil cut through the water like some goddam porpoise. What a
swimmer. Only the young man's wound in the Kaiser's war prevented
him from winning his own gold medals. On land you'd never know,
but the water knew, he was permanently slowed down.
George pulled out a hip pocket flask, inhaled some slightly
cut gin and considered the possibilities. He had oars; he could
row ashore for gas, but he was broke. He could also row to the
yacht and get free gas, but that also took effort. With the
wisdom of his forty-five years, he decided to wait until Phil sent
rescue. It would come soon because Flair Singleton was no Maddy
Metcalf. Maddy still had a soft spot for Phil, despite her anger
at him. Flair on the other hand was a bitch virgin with warm
spots for no man. Phil would get a fast shuffle. With a sigh of
contentment, George laid down on a seat, rested his flask on his
chest and began to daydream future glories, staring up at a blue
sky of an August, 1926, afternoon in Atlantic City, New Jersey . .
. .
"Hello there," said Phil swimming up to the girl.
"Beat it," said the girl. "Twenty three and a big skidoo."
"I'm Phil Griffin. I train women swimmers," Phil offered.
"I've heard of you. I've heard you were coming. My father's
nurse is Maddy Metcalf. She used to swim for you."
"Uh," grunted Phil. Not so good . . . if Maddy'd said too
much.
Phil was aware of the girl's sleek, gorgeous body. She must
be twenty or so, with blonde features and a smooth, tanned skin.
She had meat on her bones, but was beautifully proportioned. He
could tell she was also an endurance swimmer, being able to talk
so easily in the water.
"Headed for the yacht, huh?" said Phil.
"Yes. It belongs to my father, Victor Singleton. I'm
Flair."
Victor Singleton would be George's backer, the pharmaceutical
executive from New Jersey inland, Phil knew.
"Is Maddy on the boat?" he asked. "I've come all the way
from California to see her. I guess you know that. I have a new
project for her."
"She's not on the yacht," said Flair. "She hates you. I can
see why. You're too fresh."
"Listen, I was just admiring your stroke. As a professional
trainer . . . ."
"Take off your trunks."
"What?"
"When I'm stripped, I don't allow clothed swimmers
alongside."
"How come you're stripped?"
"Dad gave me a bathing suit. I tried it out. It belongs on
somebody's old maid aunt."
A real flapper, thought Phil. A wild girl of the Twenties, a
rich man's reckless daughter.
Flair suddenly stopped swimming and for seconds Phil was
treated to the sight of two magnificent breasts, nude, with big,
pink centers. Treading water she let herself sink her glories
just out of sight.
"Strip or skip," she insisted.
Phil felt a thrill of erotic feeling. To swim with this
beauty, it was a small price to pay. He doubled his body and his
trunks were gone.
"I'm really only interested in your style," he said,
grinning. "Maybe you could swim in my new project."
"Maybe you want to screw me in the ocean," she shot back.
"Maddy confessed you tumbled her once in a pool."
"A pool, maybe. The ocean, no," said Phil. "It's the waves."
It was too bad, too, because going naked had sent thrills and
tempting rushes through his belly. His cock had slowly begun to
stiffen just at the realization of being out here all alone with a
beautiful, naked girl. A wild one. Their bodies touched. For a
second he felt warm, silken flesh lubricated by the water.
"From what Maddy says you'll figure a way to beat the waves
and invent ocean sex," said Flair drily.
The conversation was not going the way Phil liked. This kid
was too forward. She'd shot him two insults inside of a minute.
That got his back up.
"So I've got the name," he told her. "I might as well have
the game."
He reached out and ran one hand down the sweet slope of
Flair's naked back. Gently he squeezed the satin smooth globe of
one buttock, slick from the water. Let's see how Miss Tart Lip
took that!
No scream. No slap. Instead she calmly reached down and
grabbed his half-erect cock.
"Oh!" said Phil.
She squeezed it as he had her buttocks, but in the awkward
way women handled men's pricks. Then she pumped it and that felt
very, very good. Phil felt an awesome rush of pleasure. He'd
been five days on the train coming East, with no dates, and not
much before that. His balls were loaded. His blade powered up to
full erection in only a few of her hand strokes.
"Ah-huh!" he gasped.
"That's my best stroke," she said.
"Uh. I've g-got one too," he said. He felt along her warm
inner thigh and up between her legs. Her cunt was right where it
was supposed to be, a bush above, two soft lips in his hand and
warmth inside.
"Ah-huh!" she gasped in her turn as his fingers bored in.
For a wild few seconds they treaded water, mutually
masturbating each other, as if seeing how far the outrage between
perfect strangers could go. Phil's cock throbbed with intense
pleasure. He could feel her quivers as he probed inside of her
cunt.
Flair suddenly released his jabber. "Why am I doing this?"
she asked the ocean. "I don't care about your stupid prong.
Finish yourself. Uh, uh!"
She gave another gasp at his invading fingers that had worked
a short way inside of her box and expertly pressed on her
clitoris. She eased her loins off his hand. She began to swim
away rapidly.
Phil stared after her in awe as he tread water.
"You're a virgin!" he cried after her, astonished. His
fingers had told him the truth. A flapper she might be, and wild,
but no man had invaded that glorious belly. Probably because of
her tart lip, he thought.
She scolded him over her shoulder.
"That's right, Mr. Prick!" she cried. "Shout it to the
world. Yell it to the Boardwalk. I'm proud of it and no man will
ever change it. Especially you!"
She swam on, while Phil looked back over his shoulder.
George's boat drifted some distance away. There was no sign that
Panther tried to rescue himself by rowing. The yacht looked
closer.
He saw Flair reach the yacht's landing platform at water
level, saw a white uniformed servant come down the ladder to hand
her a large towel to cover her nakedness. She stood there a
moment staring at Phil across the water. A warm wave blurred his
vision; when he cleared it, he saw her final gesture of contempt.
She deliberately opened her towel to expose herself fully for a
second, then closed it and went on up the ladder.
"Bitch," he groused. But he was still hard. That body was as
shapely a figure as he'd seen in all his twenty-seven years.
Wasted on a hard personality, he thought. Sadly he swam on to the
yacht.
No servant greeted him. Nor was there anyone on sight on the
deck.
Naked, he felt very exposed, but no one came into view. The
boat tugged gently at its anchor like some ghost ship without
humanity aboard. Weird!
Silence. Creaking anchor chain. Sunny deck. Ahead of him
were twin doors of some master cabin. He went through, anxious to
hide his nudity. He found himself in a glass-walled living room,
carpeted, with a bar, chairs and tables. The carpet was thick and
new, the furniture gleaming brown wood. Old Singleton must really
be rich because this was ultimate luxury, a craft more than a
hundred feet long, with glittering appointments, solid wood,
shining brass, eye-blinding whiteness of white paint. He dripped
a little water on the rug.
No humans. No sound. It was spooky, all right. He crossed
the big cabin to a door at the other end. It opened into a hall,
empty, with closed doors on the left and right. Sleeping quarters
for the millionaire? There was a bright blue carpet with an
embroidered "S". New. It felt good on his feet and he made no
sound.
He walked down the hallway, half the length and stopped at a
big door on his right. Should he knock? Or just barge in? He
stood uncertainly in front of the door.
There was a sudden rush of feet and he felt his arm grabbed
and twisted up behind him. A solid body hit his and drove him
through the door, as he grunted in surprise. His arm was locked
up behind him. He and his attacker burst through the door, and it
was a bedroom, right enough. There was a huge bed with a satin
spread and an "S" embroidered on it.
The surprise of the sudden attack had caught him off guard,
but now he brought his strength into play. His assailant had to
use both arms to pin his one arm but slowly he was able to pull it
loose. His attacker pressed against his making him realize that
it was a woman, that she was nude, that it was Flair Singleton.
The smooth skin, the warm flesh were dead giveaways. He jumped
forward out of her grasp, ending in the middle of the room.
"Aha!" she said. She spun around and locked the cabin door.
He stared at her thunderstruck. She was still baby naked.
Close up, out of the water, he got the full effect of her unclad
body. She had a beautiful face with a pug nose and those bright
blue eyes. Her thick hair was wet, of course, much darker than it
would be when dried and coiffed. She had broad shoulders for a
woman but they matched her powerful but softly curved body. There
was the shapely torso, soft rib cage, sexy belly button and flat
belly.
"Aha?" he asked, swallowing hard.
Her eyes dropped to his crotch. His cock still jutted out
stiff from his belly. In his loaded condition, the blood would
seep away most slowly and reluctantly. His prick wanted to
deliver its load of manhood into the world.
She walked up to him. She took his big prodder in both of
her warm hands.
"Would you believe that I've never touched a man's sex until
yours in the water a few minutes ago?"
Her voice was softer. She looked shy.
"In-interesting," he said. He was so stricken by her beauty,
by that tanned, silken skin, the glow of health, the
voluptuousness of her body that his mind felt thick, non-
functioning.
"My father protects me. My father won't let me have anything
to do with sex," she said. "Is it all right if I look at you?"
"Why . . . why not?" he stammered, still transfixed.
Her hands had thrilled him. Now she opened them to look
closely at his cock, bending down with those great breasts
slightly extended.
He felt a sweet rush of desire from his sex centers up and
down his spine. She rubbed and stroked the mushroom shape of his
swollen cock head, pumped the skin on the shaft. He gave a gurgle
of pleasure as thrills shot through him.
"Ohhhhhh."
"That feels good, doesn't it?"
"Baby, that feels incredible! What you've got there is a
length of muscle made hard by the rush of blood to the organ,
which swells and makes the skin tight, but the skin can move a
little and excite a million and a half pleasure nerves so that a
man walks up on his toes, creaming and crooning. Ahhh. We call
it masturbation."
"Like this?"
She pumped his cock vigorously.
"Oh, baby!" he cried. "You'll cause an explosion. I've got
enough stuff inside to blow off your hands."
"You've got to explain sex to me," she insisted. "It's my
one chance of a lifetime. Dad never lets me go out alone. He
hires guards. But they're away, he's away." Suddenly on the ocean
I'm with a man, he's naked, and his thing is risen hard. I can't
pass this up."
She was so different than on the ocean that Phil couldn't
believe it. In the water she was tough, mature. Out of the water
she was totally innocent. Or playing so.
"Get on the bed," she said.
Phil didn't know what to do. All his life he'd ruined chance
after chance to get ahead by falling into sex. Somebody's wife,
somebody's sweetheart, or some of his students. On this trip East
he'd sworn to put business before pleasure. Now this.
As long as she pumped on his blade he was willing to stand
there and let nature take its course. He was crazy to shoot off
his load. But now she stopped and crudely walked him to the bed by
pulling on his cock so he had to follow. It was the cruelty of
innocence, as if she could not release the wonder organ that her
father had kept her away from all her life.
He went to the bed. He sat on the bed. She sat beside him.
"You have a c-cock," she said. "I have a c-cunt. I can
hardly say the word. I call it my box." She actually blushed.
She opened her legs and before his horrified eyes stroked her
delicate pink instrument to make her fingers gleam with girl
essence. Her cunt was as swollen as his prick.
She anointed his blade with her warm girl oils. He fucked up
lusciously into her fist, smelling musk, thrilling, crazed for
sex.
"Prin . . . princess in a locked tower," he said.
"What?"
"Nothing. Let's get back to my cock and your cunt." He
groaned. This birds and bees stuff was going to put him right
back in the dark hole, like with Maddy.
"Cu . . . box!" she cried. "That word's so sexy! I wish I
could say it."
She jumped up and straddled his lap. While he stared at her
in horror and delight, she fitted her cunt to his cock and sat on
his stiffness. His prong immediately nudged into her about an
inch and stopped, hitting her hymen. He felt her slick oils. He
felt her intense inner body heat. His entire cock head was
gripped tightly by her virgin opening. Great thrills of desire-joy
swept up his body. He was on fire to grab her hips and fuck her
deeply, crazily.
"I . . . ahhhh!" he moaned.
"Oh, we won't do anything," she promised him. "I'm just
learning things. Ah. Eeee! Yes, I'm just putting things
together."
She bounced a little. He almost died. Somehow both his hands
pressed tightly against the richest naked globes he'd ever
touched. Hot, hard nipples dug at his palms. Jelly-firm breast
flesh warmed his hands. He sweated. He moaned. As she jiggled
he felt a slight tearing of her maidenhead.
It was too much. He grabbed her shoulders and forced his
mouth on those flaired lips, feeling soft flesh, wetness, sensing
her sweet, young breath. He ruthlessly drove his tongue into her
mouth.
Blue eyes shot wide. For a second his tongue reamed her
silken mouth, trying to fuck down her throat. Silken saliva laved
and smeared him. He thrilled.
She jerked free, sputtering. "What did you do that for?
That's repulsive! Ughhhh!" She shook her head. He could see the
fast beat of her pulse in her throat. Her lovely face was pink
with the blush of sexuality.
He gripped her hips and dug his prick against her hymen. It
tore some more. She jerked and gave a small scream, while his
ruthless cock throbbed happily and he felt the exultation of
virgin blood run down his shaft.
He was pretty well imbedded in her cunt. Maybe two glorious
inches.
"I thought we weren't going to do anything," she whined. "It
hurts."
"That's right. We have to stop," he said. God! But he was
right. One tiny, stainless steel thread of reason held his
pleasure-crazed body back. He must not wreck this trip East with
stupid sex, not even with this princess, not even with a virgin.
He'd had virgins. He'd had Maddy. There'd been a few others.
She got up off his lap. They both stared down at her crotch,
silently watching a thrilling trickle of blood join the gleam of
her sex-welcoming oils on her satin inner thighs.
She put her finger just inside her cunt lips and made a
circular motion. She moaned.
"That's my sex center, isn't it?"
"Clitoris, yes." He swallowed and felt his breath rushing in
his throat. God, what a sweet agony.
"It feels so great there. Your penis felt great in my cu-
box."
"Cunt."
"Oh, heavens. If you say that word again, I'll die!"
She fell back on the bed, legs wide apart. Phil felt he was
the one who was about to die. He thought she might be somehow
seducing him, yet that didn't make sense. She had the most
authentic hymen he'd ever encountered. She was a total virgin.
"I have to learn," she said. "It's my one chance in a
lifetime. Dad'll keep me a virgin till I'm forty and dried up.
Put it back in."
"Put it back in? Listen, Flair, if I do your maidenhead is
gone."
"Nonsense. Put it back in."
He looked down at her virginal beauty, soft face, voluptuous
body, those high, perfect breasts, those thrilling hips and thighs
and the steel restraint snapped. He mounted her. He dug his cock
back into her cunt. He shoved. She gasped as more gristle gave
way and more blood flowed. He grunted as he felt the exquisite
pleasure of deflowering this beauty.
"Ouch. Say the word."
"Cunt."
"Uh!" This time she bucked on his prodder and more tearing
took place. "Ohhhh," she cried. "I can't stand it."
"I think I can stop. Otherwise it's a fuck."
"Uh!" She bucked once more on his penis. Evidently that word
also stirred her.
"Cunt," he said.
"Uh!" she went. Her eyes were shining as her face grimaced
with pain. More hymen went. The blood flowed now.
"Oh, Jesus, goddam, fuck your cunt!" he cried and cruelly
rammed his cock against her maidenhead with fury. She screamed
and came off the bed, her buttocks squeezing, her belly tense to
his as he battered her gristle away and sank deep into her tunnel.
"Stop!" she ordered. "I can't stand it!"
He stopped. He was half worn out with the thrills and rushes
of delight in his belly from pronging against this thick hymen.
Now he had five of his seven inches buried in that ripe but tight
belly and to all intents and purposes she had been fully
deflowered.
She looked up at him and seemed dazed.
"We can't go on. Your thing is eight inches long and two
inches around."
"Seven. Only an inch and a half."
"We have to stop."
"Cunt," he teased her. "I want your cunt."
She suddenly locked her legs around his back and gave a
series of heavenly sex bunts on his prodder. His cock oozed in
until it lightly touched her womb wall.
"You're fucked!" he gasped, his prick dry-throbbing madly.
He almost fainted from the intense heat, the sweet friction, the
surging throw desire in his guts. He'd never had such sex
pleasure.
"Oh, oh, oh," she went, thrusting on his cock, impaling
herself. Mixed blood and oil gave fabulous service to his sliding
shaft. Her eyes got big. She began to lift under him. She was so
strong that she could lift his weight.
"Something's going to happen!" she cried.
He was astounded. Most girls did not enjoy deflowerment, nor
have orgasms that first time. Not at the moments of battering.
He grunted and began to rock his prick rapidly in and out of
her tight cunt.
"Phil!" she cried.
He could not help her in this exquisite moment of fast prick
friction. He was totally lost in the sweet, hot flesh, the
enveloping, satiny package of her body and especially in that
tight little deflowered heaven she called her box.
"Uh, uh, uh, Flair" Want you . . . want your body, your
being," he gasped, flexing and ramming her wildly.
"Ohhhhhh!"
Her big body strained up, locked and her cunt went into
spasms. Throb, throb, throb. She sighed and fell back on the bed,
only to shoot up again, buttocks tight, loins grinding his.
Throb, throb, throb.
"Ahhhhhh," she keened.
He could've expected it. A magnificent body like this would
produce fierce, healthy girl orgasms. He drove her through her
pleasure spasms while she whined and keened and throbbed, finally
to fall back under him on the satin spread, exhausted, face
shining with moisture, eyes dazed.
It was all his now. He ached all over and thrilled to
ecstatic heights as he drew close to his own moment of glory.
Pure erotic delight sang up and down his whole body as he panted
to plant his manhood deep in her cunt, against her waiting womb.
He fucked hotly.
Suddenly the giant fist of orgasm gripped his belly, thighs,
cock and balls. He went tight and paralyzed with a wounded grunt.
"Uh, huh, huh!"
He went dizzy. He felt spinning, exalting leaps of pleasure.
Virgin cunt deflowered and won!
Spurt, spurt, spurt. Gorgeous shots of jism unlocked his
packed, congested sex system. The relief and good feeling were
incredible.
"Ahhhhh!"
Spurt, spurt, spurt. So much, a continent of sperm throbbing
and, gushing out of his reservoirs. He had climbed straight up to
joyous lust heaven.
"Uh, ah, ah, ah!"
She was his passive receptacle, the sexy, dazed woman
clinging to him, powerless to stop his hands from holding her cunt
glove tight to his belly as he pumped her body full of his manhood
and meaning, centering every drop deep, deep into her belly. She
jerked a little in surprise as she felt his virile sperm shots.
"Hoooo," she sang. "I think I'm wet. I'm really wet. I
think you've got an ocean in me."
Finally he was empty and glowing. It felt so good that he
just folded down on her soft yet firm body completely lust-
emptied, feeling as if he were no longer the same man who had swum
alongside this sexy creature. Those weeks of abstinence had turned
him into a wired up crazy man. He felt human, good, open and
friendly. Happy beyond description.
"Flair, that was the best I ever had."
"Better than Maddy?" she asked in surprise.
Careful now. "It was incredible," he said.
The door to the bedroom began to reverberate with blows. He
heard shouts and, wood smashing as somebody knocked the wooden
door in and it splintered and gave way with a crash. A whole
horde of men suddenly appeared.
He looked back in astonishment over his shoulder. He was too
weak from the sex to move off the taken girl's body.
Actually it was only four men standing there, glaring down at
him and Flair, still fuck-locked on the bed.
One of them was George Panther, rescued somehow from the sea.
Another was a tall, fierce-looking man with white hair and hard,
ominous eyes. He decided in a flash that this had to be George's
rich man, the pharmaceutical millionaire, Flair's father. The
guards puzzled him. They were two young guys about his age and
they looked like real hoodlums, not hired guards from Pinkerton's.
They had guns in their hands.
They marched up to the bed. They ripped Phil off Flair's
body. For a second everybody in the room saw the fruits of recent
lust, a big red stain on the figure "S" and a wet center of sperm
and oils where lovers had locked.
Flair gave a scream, jumped up and rushed through a door that
had to be the stateroom's bath. That left Phil in the grip of two
husky, armed men. They marched him up to the white-haired man.
The older man stared down at Phil's lower belly, stained with his
daughter's virginal blood.
George Panter tried to make the best of it.
"Mr. Singleton, I'd like you to meet . . . uh . . . Phil
Griffin. He's just come to Atlantic City."
Those hard eyes drilled Phil with fury. "He came all right."
"Muh-Mr. Singleton, I know in the pharmaceutical business,
you people are like doctors, so I would ask you to judge . . . ."
Phil didn't know what he was saying. He'd been dragged from utter
bliss to utter tragedy in less than a minute.
"Me a druggist?" howled Singleton. "What the shit! I ain't
no druggist. I'm New Jersey's biggest and toughest bootlegger.
They call me Vicious Vic Singleton, but not to my face. Only I
get to call me that to my face."
"Bee-bootlegger?" squeaked Phil. "George didn't say."
"You fucked my daughter," cried Vicious Vic. "I've been
saving her virgin state for a bigshot wedding and you got the
blood all over my "S". You crummy prick, you're dead!"
It was almost a shriek. Phil stared in ultimate horror at
the men, at George who was sheet-white and shaking his head.
"I think you made a mistake, Phil. I have to say that, boy.
I hope you understand."
One of the hoods raised his gun.
"You prick!" shrieked Vicious Vic. "Who told you to shoot
him in here? You'll get blood and brains all over my new rug, you
stupid fucker. Outside is where you shoot him!"
"I can explain," said Phil as they dragged him through the
door. "I was merely trying to answer the young lady's questions
about sex."
But he knew he could never explain and that his life was
over. He'd deflowered the precious daughter of a bootleg
gangster, the most savage breed of men alive in America.
Chapter 2
Phil had been wounded in the World War, so he knew danger; he
even knew the stress of facing immediate death. But this
afternoon he'd had a long swim and then delicious but exhausting
sex, so he felt weak when Singleton's two thugs dragged him out on
deck. He needed a few moments to recover. No man who ever had
sex with Vic Singleton's ripe daughter was going to be able to
climb into the prize ring right after!
George Panther chatted nervously as he tried to cool the
bootlegger down. Vicious Vic had towed George to the yacht in his
larger launch shortly before, enthusing that he'd just met a
Boston blueblood who'd make a great match for Flair. Vic dreamed
of society status now that he had money, so he'd invited the young
man to the yacht for dinner.
On the yacht frightened servants told Vic's group that Flair
had ordered all the help out of sight and somehow lured this
stranger into the main bedroom. It was the worst possible time
for Phil to have come along and deflowered Singleton's daughter.
But Panther spoke up.
"Remember, Vic, this young guy can help with our water show
at the aquarium," he babbled, hanging on to Vic's arm.
The gangster just said, over and over: "You bastard! You've
ruined my daughter for a big shot wedding. You've ruined her!"
And the two thugs lugged Phil out on deck.
"If we shoot him on the right side of the boat nobody from
shore can see," said one thug.
"But we could throw the body over easier from the back of the
boat," countered the other.
"It's not the right side of the boat, you punk!" sang Vic.
"It's the goddam starboard side. The left side's your port side."
"The rear of the boat?" asked the second.
"The stern, you asshole."
While this curious instruction went on, Phil felt some of his
strength return. His active life made him far stronger than
Singleton's hoods. He gave a shove to the left and sent one man
reeling. He gave the other a shove to the right, not caring which
was port, which was starboard. The second man went down to
skitter along the deck. Then Phil bounded toward the rail.
He planned to do a magnificent Doug Fairbanks leap from the
high rail down into the water and swim to safety. Flair Singleton
stopped him. She glided from nowhere to a place in front of him
to shove the barrel of a sawed-off shotgun into his middle.
"Where do you think you're going?"
"Unk!" Phil stopped dead with both barrels prodding his
belly. At least the girl had covered her essential parts with the
big towel.
"He's ruined you, baby!" cried Vic. "He has to die!"
"You're not going to kill my husband-to-be!" she shot back.
"Hub-husband?" said Vic, thunderstruck.
"You always said I had to save my girlhood for my husband.
Since he took it, he has to marry me."
Father and daughter glared at each other. Phil broke it up.
"A shotgun wedding with the bride holding the gun?" cried
Phil. He jerked the gun from Flair's grasp. He waved it to stop
the chagrined hoodlums who'd recovered. "I thought all crazy
people went to California. New Jersey's worse."
"My daughter's not marrying any poor, overmuscled California
swim tramp. That's final," fumed Vic.
"Tramp!" yelled Phil. "You're the tramp! I teach Olympic
swimmers, world-respected young athletes who compete for the
highest honors of civilization. You sell booze, degrading every
man, woman and child in this nation, pulling down society's
standards, creating poverty and filth. You're the tramp,
Singleton, and a punk besides."
"You're overstating, Phil," George warned.
"He has a point," murmured Flair.
But Vicious Vic looked from his determined daughter to the
angry Phil and then at the menacing shotgun. His face relaxed.
"I was just letting off a little steam," he said quietly.
"Let's all get dressed for dinner."
Phil collected his clothes from George's boat and felt very
sexy sitting there without his trunks underneath. They were
floating somewhere in the ocean. But Flair had apparently had
enough lessons in sex for one day; she all but ignored him.
Nobody mentioned the earlier embarrassing incident, nor marriage.
Instead father and daughter picked at each other, making Phil
suspect that she'd used him to get back at her father. She was a
cool female after all.
The Boston blueblood sent his regrets which made Singleton
subdued. Meanwhile the dinner was delicious, a boiled terrapin
with a sublime red sauce imported from Baltimore, prepared by the
top chef in Baltimore's finest Shore Dinner establishment. It was
rushed to Atlantic City by express train and messenger.
Phil and George gorged themselves at Vic's expense. Phil
decided that if the bootlegger could spend money like this, he was
a potential backer for Phil's California project with Maddy, so he
remained in good humor. Singleton was morose and finally picked
on George Panther.
"We've got to square away your dumb, two-bit water show," he
said. "Phil, that's the least you can do for me after enjoying
both my daughter and my dinner. Panther's roped me into this
stupid girlie thing in some goddam converted aquarium where they
used to show off fish but went broke."
George murmured that all his show needed was a little
tightening and polishing.
"Polish, hell!" sang Vic. "Those girls are ugly and they
swim like stones. One night one of 'em is going to drown! Phil,
since you're such a bigshot, world-respected swim teacher, I want
you to go over to that aquarium and straighten out this shit."
"I'll looked at it," Phil promised. After all, he had to
stall until Maddy came to town.
Singleton explained to him that Maddy had been a nurse to his
sick wife until she died. Now Maddy was on duty in New York with
Vic's aged mother. She came down with the mother every couple of
weeks or so.
Phil looked forward to that. It was a cinch that Flair was
not going to swim for him, or sleep with him, much as he might
desire either or both. So it was back to Maddy. The crafty girl
had wisely picked up a profession at which she could make a living
after the Olympic team failure.
Phil and George chugged back over the water in George's small
boat.
"That Flair's crazy," Phil fumed. "She teased me to romp
with her and then turned herself off. Did you notice she hardly
spoke to me at dinner?"
George sat back, flask in his lap, and watched Phil steer.
He spoke from twenty-five years of experience in the hard world of
show business.
"Flair doesn't want to marry nobody," he said. "I don't
think Vic wants her to marry either. I think they've got it for
each other but won't admit it. So you did 'em a favor, lifting
her virginity. If some important guy did it, they might talk
themselves into some lousy marriage. This way when a nobody takes
it they don't have to worry."
"Thanks a lot," said Phil.
"Nothing personal," said George quickly. "Uh . . . how was
she?"
"We're getting close to shore," countered Phil. "Where do I
head in?"
Phil almost died when he saw George's set-up. His show was
in a musty old building on an insignificant street just off the
Boardwalk. There was an ancient, faded sign "Wonders of the Sea"
superseded by George's garish new one: Panther's Water Show
Passion Pixies-Merry Mermaids-Cool Music-Hot Divers-Sexy
Swimmers-Comedy Acts.
A separate sign informed the public that the one and only
Texas Bunny Long, Chanteuse Extraordinaire, direct from Paris,
sang ballads in an exclusive engagement.
Texas . . . Paris?
The show was even more drab than Phil had been told. Six
listless girls, not really as bad looking as Vic had said, went
through swimming formations with an embarrassing lack of skill,
showing skin. Two guys did comic dives. Texas Bunny sang to a
piano that George pounded with more verve than art. She was a
real looker with some class compared to the others, but her voice
sounded weak to Phil.
It cost $1.00 to get in and hard wooden benches served as
seating. The place could only hold about one hundred people. The
air stank of a fishy smell from the former occupants and there was
a penetrating sweetish odor that Phil didn't recognize. Still, the
house was full.
Sitting through the ghastly show, Phil realized that George
had lured him East not so much to help his niece as to save
himself from being dropped off the Steel Pier in cement overshoes
by Vic.
After the first show, Phil cornered George.
"What you've got is a lousy show in a crummy auditorium
isolated in a impossible location. Even at five dollars a head
you'd lose money."
"Oh, I make a little. Singleton wants more."
"You make a little, with a payroll of eight swimmers and the
doll singer?"
"Well," said George with a sly look, "the girls pay me, you
see. I think they hook after the show. There's one of those
'boarding houses' with rooms that rent by the hour up the street.
The guys come to the show to see the bodies before they rent 'em.
But you see I don't let 'em show too much. So I charge the girls
instead of paying them."
"My God!" said Phil.
"Don't let Vic know about that. He'd think it lacks class,"
begged George.
"What about the platinum blonde, Texas Bunny. She must cost
a bundle with her looks, even if her voice is weak."
"Oh, that's Vic's mistress. He pays for her. I charge him to
give her show business experience."
"What a con. How about the men divers?"
"Oh, they siphon off a little and sell it on the side."
"Siphon? Sell?"
"Maybe you noticed the smell. We don't use water in the tank
here. It's filled with ten thousand gallons of pure Canadian
gin."
Phil felt his mind rock.
"Your water show - the girls swim in gin?"
"Right. It's Vic's storage vault. Doesn't hurt the stock
for people to swim and dive in it. Alcohol kills germs. So the
divers take a little home. I don't pay 'em, I don't charge 'em."
Flabbergasted, Phil said weakly, "And I suppose you sell some
of your trusted audience a little."
"Oh, just a little, Phil. I don't want Vic's men to notice
too much evaporation."
"Holy crumb!"
"So can you train those girls better?"
"I'm sure I can," laughed Phil, "if we can keep them sober!"
Phil retired to George's office for the intermission and the
second show. He couldn't bear to watch it all over again.
Swimming in gin? It was a nutty idea, but there was no
reason why it couldn't work. In fact, he was tempted to swim in
the stuff himself and maybe even sip a little. What a goofy set-
up!
As for George . . . sleaze, sleaze, sleaze, since the days
he'd sold patent medicines from the back of an ancient wagon,
medicines laced with alcohol. Nothing had changed with George!
Phil passed the time by catching up on the news with some New
York papers George had on his desk. There were two big stories
that riveted his attention. Gertrude Ederle had just finished a
successful English Channel swim, the first time by a woman, with a
time-lapse that beat the best men's records. It looked like she'd
come back to America a heroine with a ticker-tape parade down
Broadway in New York and all the rest of the accolades.
Phil grinned happily. He'd followed Trudy's endurance swim
faithfully. Her success meant that his California project was no
longer a daydream. If Vic Singleton didn't buy it, some other
millionaire would.
The other news was about Houdini's fabulous trick immersion
under water in the pool of the Hotel Sheraton, New York. Houdini,
a world hero for many years with his escapes and feats of magic
and daring, had done it again. A young Egyptian, Rahman Bey, had
challenged Houdini to match his immersion in a bronze coffin in
water for an hour. The Egyptian claimed he could live in his
casket for an hour, using only the air in that enclosed space
because he could induce a trance.
Houdini said it could be done without a trance. Accordingly
Houdini had himself immersed underwater in a metal box, soldered
shut, and remained under for an hour and a half, a half hour
longer than the Egyptian "miracle man". There was no trance or
trick involved; Houdini had merely taught himself to breathe
shallowly and remain at complete rest. His superb physical
conditioning did the rest.
Phil applauded that. Phil's father had been a friend of
Houdini's, working in the famous Society of Magicians, when he was
alive. Phil would have to write Harry, or "Ehrich" as his wife
and close friends called him, and offer congratulations in the
name of the Griffin family. Phil had met the great sorcerer and
escapist several times in his early years when his father had
still been alive.
The door opened and Texas Bunny Long came into the room.
With her came a burst of tinny music from George's hand-wound
Victrola as his swimmers swam lackadaisically as George monitored
the machine to make sure it didn't run down.
Phil had been introduced to the singer, Vic's mistress,
before the first show, but now he got a good look at her close up.
What he saw was pretty interesting.
She was the opposite of girls like Flair and Maddy, with
their firm muscles and athlete's spirits. Her body was soft and
the meat seemed a little loose on her bones which Phil thought
sexy.
Her breasts were not as large as Flair's but because Texas
was slender, they hung like ripe fruit from her chest. At present
he could see the imprint of big nipples in the tight jersey gown
she wore, a beige number that clung to everything. And how they
jiggled when she walked. Her torso was as flat as any girl
athlete's. The dress showed the attractive indentation of her
belly button.
The round sweep of her hips was fantastic, almost a circle.
That was because she had a fabulous ass, slightly longer than most
women's. When she turned her back, there were these two sweet
mounds with a magnificent crack, longer and deeper than you
usually saw. In that tight dress the depression between her
buttocks looked like it would make a dream nest for one long, hard
cock, say seven inches when stiff. Phil had never had anal sex or
thought much about it, but he knew that if he ever did he'd want
to bugger between two gorgeous hams like those.
Her thighs and legs were softly, sexily shaped with just the
right taper. The evening gown she wore was split at midthigh,
tight to contain that great behind, then split to show silk hose
held up by a garter. The soft muscles flexing under the silken
sheen when she walked, plus that behind, those breasts and her
slenderness hypnotized Phil as it must have Vic and many other
males.
Her face was great. Her platinum hair was thick, whereas
most lightly complexioned platinums had thin hair. Her eyes were
big and a startling brown. Her lips were rose petal lush, her
cheeks highboned like a fashion model's. Yes, Vic had quite a
package there.
What intrigued Phil even more was her manner of talking. She
spoke in the soft, vulnerable voice of a scared little girl asking
for her momma, instead of the brassy tones you'd expect of a
singer. When she sang her ballads, every man in the audience
wanted to rise up and protect her from the sorrows that made her
quiver.
Her costume was bizarre because above the clinging night club
gown she wore a white ten gallon Texas sombrero and on her feet
were dainty-heeled, authentic cowboy boots. Being from the West,
Phil knew they were the real thing.
"Oh, excuse me," she murmured in that scared voice. "I came
for my medicine. I have to go on in about twenty minutes. My
throat is dry tonight."
Phil beckoned her to the desk and stood aside.
"Did I sound all right in the first show?" she asked, coming
up to the desk.
"Fine," he lied.
"I was lousy," she contradicted him. "That's why I need my
medicine. Oh, no. Sit on the desk, please. I can find it
easier."
Surprised, Phil sat on the desk facing her and politely
lifted his legs as she opened one of George's desk drawers.
"Not there," she said, fumbling in the drawer. She took his
left leg and rested it on the drawer. She opened a drawer on the
other side and rummaged inside. "Not there." She put his right
foot on the opened drawer.
What the heck?
"Oh, here it is," she said in her near whisper. She put her
hands on Phil's crotch and began to unbutton his fly.
Phil sat there petrified. He could not believe what was
happening. The girl's movements were so slow and deliberate, so
sane, that the mind rejected what she was really doing. What she
really did was gently lift out the coil of his cock and balls and
stroke his shaft as if it were a lovable kitten.
"You see," she explained, "there isn't much time until I have
to sing, so I'm being bold in getting right to my medicine."
Was she drunk? Crazy?
"Where . . . where is you medicine, Texas?"
"Right inside your plumbing, Mr. Griffin, Phil. Don't worry.
I know how to find it."
With little girl diffidence she began to masturbate his blade
in soft, satiny hands. Phil felt luscious streaks of desire as his
cock grew. That rinsing that Flair had given him several hours
ago had by no means depleted his sexuality. In fact, that first
throw had only stimulated him to want to blast off a second time,
but Flair had turned unfriendly.
Two emotions tore him, surprise and delight. Outside he
could hear faintly the applause of the crowd, some of the thin
music. It was certainly safe enough here; George had to busy
himself on and around the tank during the show.
"You want . . . my jism?" he managed, wallowing in this new,
hot pleasure.
"It coats my throat, soothes my voice box," she said. "Then
I sing marvelously well. Yes, sperm does it."
"Ahhhhh." His big prick strained up now as if eager to leap
off his body and hunt for sex on its own. Those capable hands
really could stroke!
"Would it embarrass you if I . . . ." Pleading brown eyes
looked up at him.
"I . . . uh . . . don't think so. Not at all!" he gasped,
his breath almost choking him in rising excitement.
A pink tongue flicked out and circled the head of his cock,
painting it with warm honey saliva.
"I'll try not to be gross," she whispered, "but I really have
to have your sperm and pretty fast."
"Yes!" he hissed in ecstasy as she engulfed the whole top of
his prong in her mouth. Thrills and rushes of delight shot through
his belly and loins. He fucked up a little into that soft, tight
mouth. Her suction was strong, exquisite. Wet flesh pressed
insistently, excitingly on his cock head as she bobbed her own
head and grooved his flaming spear top against the roof of her
mouth. Teasing fingers stroked his shaft, gently caressed his
balls.
"Ho, ho, ho!" he sang, heart pounding wildly. In less than a
minute she'd set his whole belly on fire.
She released his cock and they both watched its happy dry
throbs, as it gleamed in the satin of her saliva. Phil felt the
slight sting of the digestive power.
"Well, I won't go too fast," she laughed. "If you don't mind
a little tease, I find that it increases the sperm volume."
"Tease is all right!" he cried. God, he could feel the sweet
joy from his toes to his head. What a cock handler this shy,
strange show business girl was.
"If I can hold back the ejaculation long enough," she
explained as if she were a teacher in a classroom, "the force
greatly aids in coating my throat. Don't be surprised if I take
you quite deep at first and then draw gradually back to apply an
even spread of your precious male juices."
"You know best!" Phil sang in ecstasy.
She was better than her word. She knew how to handle a man's
cock the best of any woman Phil had ever met. Carefully she ate
down his stiff, reddened shaft on one side and up the other. Her
deft tongue ringed the very edge of his mushroom cock head until
he got dizzy and crazed from the good feeling.
"Can't . . . stand!" he moaned.
She stopped when he dry throbbed. When his crystal clear
preseminal fluid eased out of the dark hole she licked it up as if
it were nectar.
"Helps my throat already," she said, swallowing. He watched
the soft throat muscles work and thrilled. His prick kept oozing
out more nectar as the tension from the delight-maddening friction
went on and on.
She ate his balls with the expertise of a gourmet cocksucker.
"Texas, you know how!" he exulted.
She was back at his shaft, using her teeth as well as her
tongue as she sensed that the longer it lasted the harsher he
wanted it. He bucked recklessly now into her mouth, breathing
hard, wanting to rush to explosion. She held him back with gentle
restraints.
Soon his pubic hair, shaft and balls were totally covered
with a warm sexy gloss that made him shudder in pleasure. It was
as close to a cunt feel as the real thing, the way she used her
mouth, suction and her stroking, incredible hands. She worked the
stiff blade back and forth, up and down to add to the growing
pleasure-fury.
"Oh, oh, Texas!" he cried. "I may die!"
"No one ever has!" she laughed.
He was out of his mind now, growing dizzy with the continued
pleasure. She'd brought him right up under the point of paralysis
and explosion and she held him there while he could imagine his
sperm factory whipping up extra gallons of throw juice, packing
his reservoirs till he wanted to scream in pleasure from tension.
"Please let it go!" he begged. "Take me."
He grabbed her head and fucked lustily into that teasing
luscious mouth, watching his shaft run over wet lips and go
inside.
"Not yet," she laughed, squeezing his prick and slowing the
joy. "A young, handsome male like you with this heavy duty jong
has infinite capacity."
He was so crazed to fuck off his load, he jerked free,
grabbed her and hoisted her on the desk. Her body was light and
handled easily. He scooted up her tight dress to get at her belly
and cunt and thrilled to discover that she wore no panties. Her
pubic hair was platinum, she was authentic. With a happy groan he
nuzzled between soft, warm thighs and began to eat her cunt
greedily. There was plenty of musk juice for him. Texas was so
hot that her girl honey had spread halfway to her knees, staining
the inside thighs of her silk hose. He inhaled her essence and
coated his own throat with her gland flow.
"Oh, my heavens. Oh, great scott!" she moaned. "Ah, ah,
ah!"
He put his hands on that magnificent ass now, digging them
into those gorgeous buttocks as he savored the satiny, quivering
flesh and sucked out her cunt oils as if she must be dried to
dust.
"Huh, huh, huh," she gasped. "Oh, I'm fucked!"
Her loins humped wildly on his face. She began to jerk and
sing in hysteric pleasure.
He gripped her hams and opened them. He ran his tongue up on
her ass button and ate it.
"Oh, nooooo!" she sang, jerking. "Nobody ever did that to
me."
He wanted to eat the flesh, so soft and loose, off her bones
and suck dry every drop of her juices. She bucked in sweet
distress.
"Coming! Comiiiiinng!" she managed.
He dug his tongue once more into her sphincter, making her
quiver and wail and then drove his tongue back on her clit and
made her give up her girlhood. She locked her pelvis on his face
and surrendered. Throb, throb, throb. Hers were not the powerful,
spaced spasms of the athletic Flair, but quick flutters of
expiring womanhood, almost furtively given, as if Texas did not
wish the world to know that she'd been forced into sex
convulsions. They lasted a long time and she melted into a puddle
on George's desk.
"Oh, sweet heaven!" she sighed.
Phil stared at her naked ass, exposed because her dress was
shoved up almost to her breasts. At that moment he knew he was
going to violate that little red seal and go deep in her backhole
if she died for it. But not tonight. He had a duty to perform.
Dazed brown eyes looked up at him as he reinserted his prick
in the girl's mouth as she moved helplessly on the desk top. But
she was a trouper. She recovered quickly and give him three
fantastic suckbites, using everything, teeth, tongue and pressure.
He blew, dizzy, half unconscious with repressed desire.
Spurt, spurt, spurt.
She'd done her job all right. She'd teased him into packing
a double load of jism into his system and it spewed out now in
involuntary heavenly, rich shots of boiling jism. He nearly
fainted from relief, but wouldn't let go because he wanted to
enjoy the fabulous, sexy pleasure of this wild, wet sex fling.
Texas was true to her word. She pulled his cock deep in her
throat, until it felt like a body-hot cunt and let him coat her
passage inch by inch as she oozed his prick up her plumbing.
"Go, go, go," he sobbed in the richest oral orgasm he'd ever
felt. His prick just kept on spurting wildly, making his body
sing, his heart pound, his mind reel with unbelievable joy.
Somebody came into the room. Several somebodies. As Phil
finally tapered and came back to sanity, he looked up . . . and
then he really did come close to fainting.
Once again he stared into the savage face and angry eyes of
Vicious Vic Singleton. Once again two hoodlums on each side of the
tough bootlegger reached for their guns as they sprang forward to
seize him for punishment because he'd ravaged Vic's mistress this
time.
"Griffin, goddamit," cried Vicious Vic. "This time you've
really gone too far!"
Chapter 3
"I can get you Houdini," said Phil in a shaky voice. He sat
at George's desk with the guns of the two hoods pointed at his
head. Above him Singleton glowered down. Texas Bunny had fled the
room, crying in her soft voice, "I hate the sight of blood."
Outside the show went on, the tinkling music, the occasional
splash of an awkward swimmer in the water, or rather gin tank.
"What do you mean you can get me Houdini?" asked Vic.
"Let me finish him, boss," begged one of the thugs. "We've
knocked off a half dozen guys for less than this crumb's done to
us."
"Shut up. What's this got to do with Houdini?"
"There's a garbage scow going out at midnight," offered the
second thug. "His body could be on it."
"Will you mugs shut up?" ordered Singleton. "I want to hear
about Houdini."
Phil knew he had to come through this time. In the era of
Prohibition, bootleggers were powerful, above the law with their
money and well-paid killers. Singleton could murder him and get
away with it.
He repressed a desire to shiver and shake. The truth was, he
didn't blame Singleton. He'd kill Phil himself if he were
Singleton and this stranger came to town, first to lift his
daughter's precious maidenhead and then to screw his mistress all
on the same night. Phil doubted he could fight his way out like
this afternoon since the two thugs were now alerted to his
strength and quickness. Even if he upended the desk they'd have a
fair shot at him. No, his tongue was his only measure of defense.
"I know Houdini," Phil went on. "He owes my family a favor.
We can bring him down here to do one of his world-famous escapes
from your tank. Of course you'd have to get rid of the gin.
Houdini doesn't drink . . . or even smoke."
Singleton's interest was caught. He waved aside his boys.
"Let me get this straight, Griffin. You think you can get
the great Houdini to come here to this little dump and put on a
show for us?"
"I know I could," said Phil, wondering if he could. But he'd
try like blazes since it was a game for his life. "Houdini knew
my father who was a magician and a big shot in the Society of
American Magicians, one of Houdini's pet projects, Houdini is
loyal to old friends. He'd help me now that my father's dead.
With his fame and money he doesn't need to make a pile on every
show he does."
Phil could see the wheels spin in Vic's head. For a man who
ached to be accepted by society and respected, the Houdini angle
was a golden opportunity. No name was more honored or better
known throughout the world. Besides being the world's best
magician and escape artist, Houdini helped rid society of
spiritual fakes and mediums who preyed on widows and the gullible.
There was no flaw in Houdini's character or way of life. He
was a devoted husband to his wife, Bess. Since they were
childless, he was fabulous with children. He helped the lesser
lights in his profession through the Society, and he helped
science with his exposure of religious fakes. In his fifties, he
had the body of a twenty-five year old because of his rigorous
training and fierce spirit, while his competitive desire matched
the current ideal of American society. If he came to New Jersey
and performed in George's tank, Vic would be shaking hands with
the mayor, senators and congressman and other "big shots" as he
called them, in black tie and tails.
"Get Houdini!" said Vic.
"What?"
Singleton gestured at the pedestal telephone on George's
desk.
"Put in a call to New York and get him." Like Phil, Vic had
read about Houdini's recent feat in New York and knew he was
there.
"He . . . probably won't be home," Phil stalled.
"Put in your call, Griffin. It ain't so late."
Phil had the number in his wallet. He'd figured to make a
courtesy phone call to the Houdinis on this trip East, but until
now had no plan to bother his powerful and busy acquaintance. But
with the thugs standing there with guns and Singleton scowling, he
had no choice, so he gave the operator the New York number.
With luck the Houdinis wouldn't be home and he could stall
further. But after a couple of rings Bess Houdini herself
answered the phone. Phil feared she wouldn't remember his name,
but she did. Mrs. Houdini was clear-minded and a strong helpmate
to the great magician. So there was nothing to do but blurt out
his request with Singleton and his men listening.
"I'll ask Harry," said Bess. "He's right here."
Oh God, thought Phil. He says "No" and I'm floating face
down in the Atlantic Ocean by midnight. Phil heard the mutter of
voices off the phone, and then Houdini himself came on.
"Hello, Phil, glad to hear from you," said Houdini.
"He-hello, Mr. Houdini," said Phil. To his relief Houdini
remembered exactly who he was and his father, too. But maybe that
wasn't so odd because at the beginning of his career Houdini did
fabulous memory tricks on stage and was not likely to forget names
or faces.
"Listen," said Houdini at length. "I'm getting ready to put
a fantastic show on the road next month in September. It'll be
the biggest, fanciest crowd-puller I've ever sent out. Believe
me, it'll be a knockout, the best of my career. We're going to
travel across America and Canada and some other places in the
world by the end of the season." Houdini's voice sounded proud.
"Glad to hear that." Phil had to smile. Houdini was a
showman and a promoter. He knew how to blow his own horn. The
difference was that he always delivered what he promised. If he
said it was going to be the best and the greatest, it would be.
But it was the end of Phil's chances to get him down here in
Atlantic City. It was already August and Houdini would be
rehearsing like a crazy man to be ready to open next month.
"There's lots of pressure," Houdini went on. "The way I
handle that, I like to get away from rehearsals for a couple of
days. A break gives me a new perspective. Sure, I'll come down
there for a one nighter. This is the perfect time of the year,
for a couple of days off for me and Bess in Atlantic City. Good
pre-show publicity, too. Count on me, Phil. My manager will set
up the details."
Phil sat back in awe. "He'll do it!" he cried to Singleton.
Singleton also looked awestruck. "He . . . he will?"
Phil went back on the phone. "Thanks a million, Harry.
Listen, can you say hello to my promoter? He's grateful. He's a
. . . ." Phil suddenly realized that the whole deal would be off
if Houdini found out that Singleton was a bootlegger. Houdini was
no snob; nobody in show business could afford to be. But he
wouldn't work for a lawless type.
"My promoter is a new impresario in show business. Victor
Singleton," said Phil decisively and handed the phone to Vic.
Vic stumbled through a few words with the world famous man
and hung up. He collapsed in a chair.
"I just talked in person to Houdini!" he exulted. "Me, Vic
Singleton, from Jersey City, New Jersey. His voice came right in
my ear and my voice went right back into his. God!"
The thugs had put away their guns and moved back, looking
dazed. This was totally outside their experience.
"We're not out of the woods," said Phil. "There's a problem.
Houdini won't come if he finds out you're a bootlegger."
The look of ecstasy slowly faded from Vic's face. "My God, I
never thought of that. Listen, I can't . . . ." Then he stopped.
"But, yeah, I see what you mean. I mean, this guy is a friend of
presidents, kings, queens, all big shots. He can't afford to deal
with scum like me."
"Exactly," said Phil.
"What the hell am I going to do?" cried Vic. "Here's my first
chance in my entire life to show off before the world as an
important right guy."
"It's tough," said Phil. "There's only one out. You've got
to quit the rackets. Now, tonight, forever. From this minute on,
you're an impresario, a show business entrepreneur."
Vic jumped up. "Quit the rackets?"
"Haven't you got enough money? Now it's fame and respect you
want."
Vic shook his head. "I got to think this one out."
"There's no choice," said Phil. "Either get out, or no
Houdini. You'll also have to dump those ten thousand gallons of
gin for Houdini's appearance."
There was a diminishing wail as Singleton fled the room,
followed by his two men.
Phil sat back in his chair, breathing in triumph. He had no
doubt what Vic would do. The man was crazy for social approval
and had all the money he'd ever need. It also fit Phil's
California project. Once they did the Houdini show, Vic would be
at loose ends . . . and Phil knew where to direct him next.
Beautiful.
Yes, he rode the crest. Always before his sex drive had cut
into his career, blocking his progress. This time it hadn't.
He'd enjoyed two beautiful dolls in one day and ended up with the
excitement of the Houdini call. Maybe his luck had changed.
He heard Texas Bunny Long singing in the auditorium. Her
voice sounded deep, strong, throaty in the second show. It was
twice as good as before. And all on account of her throat being
coated with his sperm. Would wonders ever cease in Atlantic City,
New Jersey?
It was too weeks later and the dress rehearsal was over. The
little aquarium had been repainted outside and in. Phil had
gotten rid of all George's hookers and installed sweet young beach
girls, easy to pick up on the sands at this time of year. They
could all swim like fish. He trained them as well as he could in
the gin tank. Tomorrow it would all be pumped out and replaced by
fresh sea water for Houdini.
Phil was ready for that. He'd taken over the comic diving
part of the show and found that swimming in gin sounded better
than it was. The alcohol stung on every little cut, the aroma was
overpowering and even a sip burned the throat, despite its being
first-class stuff. Nobody would miss it, except the two drunks
that Phil had replaced, who were more interested in sneaking out
the stuff than performing.
Flair Singleton lent her elegant, tanned body to the show,
against her will. Hers was no match for her father's who meant to
make the most of his brief fling with Houdini and the big time.
After all, he was giving up his bootlegging career for this.
Flair's reward was to get a chance to harmonize with Texas
Bunny in one of the songs. Flair had a pretty good voice and
liked that. For this show Texas lost her cowboy hat and part of
her name. She'd wear a shimmering, silver gown and be accompanied
by a trio in white tie and tails. She'd appear as plain Bunny
Long. Phil pointed out that the imitation of Texas Guinan that
George tried for lacked class, in Bunny's case. There was only
one Texas Guinan.
Everybody was happy except George. On that night after the
kids were dismissed and Phil and George sat alone in the office
George said he'd miss the old show. He looked frowzy in a rented
dress suit, compared to his usual sweater and baggy trousers.
"George, you've got to learn class," said Phil.
"Class is like beautiful women," sighed George. "I can't
connect. I tried for Flair before you came along and only got
laughs. You knocked her off in only one day. I tried to help
Texas Bunny with her throat problem. She shucked me off and used
the whale sperm Vic buys for her."
He rose sadly. "You lock up, Phil. I'm going out to see if
any of my two dollar whores are left in town."
George left but came back almost immediately. "Guess who's
standing in full costume by the tank, weeping her heart out. Our
singing star, Texas Bunny."
"What's her problem?"
"I dunno, Phil, but in my book that one's a candidate for Nut
College. It's your show, you handle it." George slid to the side
door, waved and was gone.
A single light shown on the stage and sink. A single figure
stood there disconsolately, weeping. Still dressed in her long
silver satin gown, with her platinum hair in wild disarray, Texas
Bunny looked like a princess who'd been deserted at the Royal
Ball.
Phil paused a moment before hurrying to her. Damn, that was
one gorgeous creature, especially with all those curves tightly
held and displayed in shimmering satin. She told Phil she'd lost
her ring. It was a very important ring, since it was a gift of
Vic Singleton, and she dared not go back to the yacht without it.
He'd think she'd hocked it, or, worse, given it to some male
lover. Vic was very jealous.
"Did you look in your dressing room?"
"It's not in there." The soft voice sounded shattered, the
brown eyes expressed utter misery. "I looked real good."
"Then it's got to be out here," said Phil. "Did you have it
earlier."
"Yes."
"I notice you sometimes wring your hands when you sing," said
Phil. "Maybe it slipped off then." He peered about the floor.
"I've looked everywhere, except-"
"Except, where?"
"In my clothes. She turned her back to him. "Feel down me.
It might've got into my clothes."
Phil looked down the gleaming figure and hesitated. He was
tired, he just wanted to close up and go home. He surely didn't
want to fool around anymore with Vic's girlfriend, not after the
sperm episode. He had big plans that meant staying in good with
the ex-bootlegger. Besides there was no place in that tight-
fitting gown you could hide a pin, let alone a ring. He'd seen
the ring. It was a lustrous pearl that she wore on her long
finger, so at least she wasn't fooling him, because now there was
no ring on those slender, white fingers.
"Can't you feel for it?" he asked. He could already sense
her body heat and was getting somewhat aroused.
"I can't feel my back!" she protested. "Please, won't you
help me?"
It was sheer disaster for him as he felt down her torso,
under the armpits, across the breasts. The stroking made her
nipples hard. He quickly felt down to her belly but that was just
as sexy, with the warm, loose flesh teasing his hands under the
smooth satin.
"My thighs."
He felt her thighs. Oh, she was so well shaped! His cock
was hardening in his pants.
"Behind."
"I . . . I . . . ." He didn't want to touch her rear. That
incredible fanny burned in his mind many a night after the shows.
"Phil! Please. It's life or death for me!"
He felt down her back, wondering if she sensed how his
breathing quickened. How silken! Finally the top slope of her
buttocks. He swallowed nervously. He felt the yielding firm flesh
under the slick satin. He was rock hard now, as his hands passed
over the exquisite roundness of her bottom. The combination of
that magnificent ass and its satin covering was almost too much
for mortal man to bear. In spite of himself he dug his fingers
into her mounds and squeezed. She gasped but made no protest. For
giddy seconds he played with her hams, even feeling into her
crack. And thrilled. Was he perverted to be so taken with her
butt? He liked a pleasing rear but had never felt such a desire
before.
He broke away, breathing hard. "It's not there, Bunny."
"It's got to be in my clothes. Unbutton me!"
"Oh, no!" he moaned. "I . . . might attack you, Texas."
"If I don't find that ring I'll be dead by morning," she
wailed.
The only way out was to humor her. But when he unbuttoned
her gown, she quickly worked it over her hips and let it drop, a
gleaming pool at her feet. He hoped she'd wear some kind of
underwear, but he knew from his earlier feel that she did not.
Sure enough, she was stark naked except for her high heels.
She muttered and began pawing over her dress, standing there
with her legs slightly apart, her gorgeous body totally exposed.
Phil stood like a statue, transfixed. Most of the girls he'd had
to do with were firm and flesh, softly muscular. The yielding
softness of this woman's body fascinated him because it was
strange and new. Her skin was clear and white and he felt that if
he hugged her, that soft flesh would melt into his body.
"It's probably inside," she said.
"What!"
She turned to face him. "Feel inside, please." Little girl
earnest, brown eyes gleaming.
"Oh, no, Texas, You d-do it."
"I can't bear to touch myself there," she wailed.
He took a deep breath. "This is my last shot." He put one
hand on her warm, bare hip. He put the other between her legs,
and felt up the satiny inner thighs to her cunt. She was wet. She
was swollen. His fingers slid easily into her warm cunt passage
to be met by her intense interior body heat and rich lubrication.
"Uh," she went as he dug fingers deep into her cunt.
"Oh," he said, "oh." He gasped at the sexy sensation of
feeling around inside her private sex passage. So tight, so hot,
so slick! God!
"It's not in there," he said, hearing the sex thickness in
his voice.
"It's got to be in there!" she insisted. "Feel some more."
He pulled his fingers out of her as she moaned at the
friction. They gleamed with sex oils. Her face was slightly red
with a blush of lust, wet lips parted, big eyes hungry. He knew
the struggle was lost, because his whole body was on fire, his
prick trying to burst out of his pants.
They looked at each other. Then he undressed quickly, aware
of her gasp when she saw his rock hard rod. She quickly eased to
the stage, presenting her rear.
"Yes!" she cried. That was the position he wanted to fuck
her in, dog fashion, with those sexy buttocks flexing on his
thighs. Quickly he knelt behind her, fitted his eager cock to her
cunt, then shoved.
"Oh!" she cried.
"Oh!" he echoed.
Both of them shuddered in delight as the big cock oozed up
tight into her cunt. For a few seconds he hugged her, holding her
still, reveling in his possession of her, of his sensations of
delight as those gorgeous hams caressed his naked thighs. He
wanted more. He reached under her belly and slid a hand up the
smooth skin to cup one of her ripe tits, hard nipple lovingly
pressed to his palm. His body glowed and thrilled in joy. He'd
missed a lot when he limited himself to pronging hard-muscled
girls. He felt as if his big, stiff cock could tear open her
entire soft body to make her scream in taken ecstasy.
He fucked three glorious strokes into her belly, then hung on
her lips, letting his prick dry throb as it savored her slick,
tight nest, anticipating the hot, driving friction to come.
"Bunny?" he called down.
"Yes?"
"I can see that you were masturbating - ah - and lost your
ring in your vagina. So how come you couldn't feel for it
yourself later?"
"I had to masturbate. Vic doesn't screw me much. He likes
to be sucked most of the time."
"So you could feel in there after the ring."
"If I felt in there, I'd get excited and have to do myself
and you'd let me. If you felt - oh, I love this - then I knew
you'd cock-ream me, and I need it!"
"Oh." He began to flex his thrilled cock in and out of her
wet, slick cunt. "But y-you really lost your ring?"
"Yes . . . look for it later," she moaned. "Please. . . fuck
my heels off now!"
The next few moments were a dizzy ecstasy for both of them.
He sensed her extreme need for a good cock reaming, while he went
sex-crazed to drive hard cock into soft belly while he bathed in
the yielding sweetness of her body, hugging, stroking, caressing,
and building their fires.
"Oh, Phil. Oh, now!" she cried in wounded fervor. Throb,
throb, throb. Almost without a paralysis her belly and cunt
muscles tightened and she spent off her womanhood with those
quick, furtive flutters and squeezes, like the time they'd sucked.
He drove her through her sublime orgasm proudly, knowing that he
could make her come over and over.
Panting, she sagged a little under his weight as she finished
her sweet orgasm.
"Oh, Phil. It's in the other hole. I just remembered."
He was miles away in the purple land of friction ecstasy,
enjoying his fuck power.
"Wha-what?"
"The ring. It could be in the other hole."
The idea sent a huge sex thrill through his whole body, so
strong it almost paralyzed him and made him shoot jism.
"The . . . the other hole."
"Look. Feel for it, please," she begged.
Panting himself, he pulled his cock out of her cunt,
separated those luscious buttocks and looked at her dainty ass-
pucker.
"Oh, Texas!" he sang. He greased a finger with her copious
oils and forced her sphincter with that finger. Hot. Wet. Soooo
tight!
She gave an animal grunt of violation as he unsealed her
asshole which harmonized with his cry of surprise.
"The ring!"
It was inside her gut.
He was really hot now. The only way she could've lost her
ring up inside her butt was by caressing her back passage with her
own finger, the long finger upon which she wore it. That meant
she liked ass stimulation when she masturbated.
Phil fumbled out the ring and flung it aside.
"Oh," she said. "Oh, th-thanks."
But he dug his well-oiled cock head against her sphincter.
"My reward, baby. Sorry, but I got to do it. Been dreaming
of your ass."
"Phil!" she screamed as he notched her small hole.
There was no way he could stop. Full lust to ream that sexy
ass was upon him. He grunted and bunted. She screamed in pain.
His thick, stiff cock was twice as wide as her slim finger and
then some. Her tight sphincter tried to resist but lost the
battle to the invading cock. Panting, gasping in pleasure he
oozed through the thick muscle.
"Ahhh, nooo," she wailed. "Can't stand it!"
He knew she felt pain. Her entrance muscle was cruelly
peeled back. But he had to have the carnal thrill of driving his
cock deep into her loin mass. She struggled and jerked
helplessly, protesting and moaning as he fucked her open.
"Too much! Too big. It hurts! Oh!"
"Want your ass," he gasped. He drove his prick deep into
her.
Waves of thrills shot down his pleased shaft into his belly
and sent pleasure throughout his body. It was sublime.
"Oh, Texas, I love it!" he cried.
"Ah, ah!" Her sides heaved in distress. She was impaled in
her tender, private hole, the ruthless cock riding close to vital,
living organs.
It was not so different from a cunt, though the friction was
better. Her passage was even tighter than her tight cunt. The
interior body heat thrilled him. The slick feel of pink gut, the
fist-squeeze of her sphincter added wild joy to his reaming. Best
of all, those exquisite jelly-silk hams worked and quivered on his
front so tight to his body that he could feel her little interior
shifts and jerks of stimulation as she tried to ease her pain and
get pleasure.
"Sorry . . . got to have . . . ass!"
Suddenly she began to work her loins back and forth to
increase the sweet pleasure on his shaft. Apparently the pain of
first violation had eased.
"Fuck me. Fuck my ass!" she yipped. I've always wanted it .
. . never dared ask . . . used my finger. Oh, oh, oh!"
Phil got one arm under her soft, moist belly, the other
across her shoulders, held her secure and rammed his loins
furiously back and forth, fucking her hot, slick hole as if it
were the last sex opening he'd ever master. The touch of
perversion made it absolutely tops in animal pleasure.
"Ah, ah, ah, God!" he keened.
"Going, going," she gasped. She had one finger on her clit
in her cunt. Since she'd already trained her asshole as a sex
passage she went right up to glory with the fierce savaging of
Phil's prick. Later her rear would burn and ache from the brutal
usage, but in the heat of the wildness she shared his crazed
pleasure with him.
"Oh, my God, I can't believe it!" she sang as her whole sex
system whipped to orgasm. Then she locked and began to throb. As
she came for the second time, her sphincter squeezed involuntarily
on Phil's cock, maddening him with extra thrills.
"Ah baby, oh my God, yesssss!" he cried. His blade was almost
glazed to glory, but he gritted his teeth and drove the girl
through her spasms of pleasure. This time her throbs were not the
frightened, furtive flutters of cunt stimulation, but big, bold
and powerful squeezes of a fully taken female, like Flair's had
been.
Throb, throb, throb.
She began to sag again, muttering as she ended her orgasm and
fell off her peak. Phil's had just begun.
He thrilled to ecstasy as he reached his high orgasmic state.
He felt his body control slip away from him as muscles and glands
organized to give him his massive pleasure explosion. He went
into sublime lock and paralysis, grunting happily and hung for
long seconds in that delicious, delirious state of suspension just
before throwing, where his whole body tensed for the pleasure
rushes to come. His immobile prick was buried hilt-deep in the
girl's gut, shaft and cock head locked in soft, hot, wet and
clutching meat.
Spurt. "Ah!" Spurt. "Ah!" Spurt.
He had to give a non-humorous laugh of tension relief as his
cock shot darts of body-hot cream high into her intestine. She
jerked and moaned as she took each gush of sperm deep in her
violated gut. And her cunt and sphincter throbbed some more in
excitement, drawing off male burst of semen in this perverted
fashion.
"Oh," she cried, squirming. "Oh, oh, I finally got it deep
in my ass!"
"Honey, so . . . fantastic," he grunted, letting the burst
come. It seemed like he had a gallon of jism burning to seed her
asshole. He pumped it all off, hugging the moist, fucked girl,
until he tapered and finished. Then he sank, weak, on her soft
body, relishing the feel of his still-stiff blade rammed up her
tight gut, bathed generously on its spent sperm, clutched hotly by
her glove-like tunnel.
She was too dazed from her own massive orgasm to move,
although his weight was too heavy on her.
"Now Vic will walk in," he murmured. But Vic did not walk
in, nor Flair nor anyone else. For once he'd completed the sex act
he desired without interruption. Just as well, he thought as he
reluctantly pulled out of Texas's ass. He would not want it to
get around town that he buggered females. Yet what was so bad
about it? They'd both had a hugely delicious time once his entry
was achieved.
Chapter 4
The mayor of Atlantic City was there and a host of other city
officials. As Phil predicted, Houdini drew senators, congressmen
and other of the city's leading lights because it was a well-
publicized black tie affair. There was barely room for the press,
the important and the near important in the small auditorium and
flash-powder trays burst in dazzling light as endless pictures
were taken.
A small orchestra played on the stage and then Phil put on
his regular water show for the blue ribbon audience. It was well-
received as the crowd was in a holiday mood, waiting for Houdini's
appearance.
Houdini appeared in a dress suit while his attendants brought
forth a coffin-like metal box similar to the one he used in his
New York hotel immersion. The great artist was small in stature
and stocky with twinkling, blue-gray eyes and, not at the age of
52, had a receding hairline over an extra wide brow.
"He always manages to look rumpled," Bess his wife explained
to Phil as they watched from the wings. "Someday I hope they
invent a wrinkleproof suit for men."
"Ah, but when he gives the crowd that dazzling smile and
opens his mouth he's listened to like a king," Phil replied.
Houdini suddenly jerked at his sleeves and his arms were bare
from the elbows down. It was the old magicians' challenge of
"Nothing up my sleeves." Then he did card tricks, enjoying
himself as much as the audience enjoyed him.
"We work in such big theatres," whispered Bess, "that he's
really excited tonight to have this intimate place where he can do
pint-sized tricks that everybody can see." Then Houdini did some
handcuff escapes and was finally sealed in his box and lowered by
ropes to the bottom of the aquarium tank. The orchestra played,
the audience buzzed expectantly. But by the time an hour had
passed, the room was silent and electric with tension. What human
could possibly survive without air for so long under water. Was
Houdini now a lifeless corpse at the bottom of the great link?
At an hour and fifteen minutes people called for the box to
be lifted, sure Houdini was dead or near death. A sense of
genuine catastrophe filled the auditorium. But Phil noted that
Bess Houdini merely smiled.
A bell rang at the mark of an hour and twenty minutes, the
box was lifted and opened and Houdini emerged, weak and pale but
smiling. He received a thunderous ovation. There had been no
tricks involved, he had lived on the natural air sealed in with
him for all that time.
For the next hour the place was a milling crowd of well-
wishers, everybody wanting to meet Houdini in this intimate place.
Usually in vast theatres there was no chance to meet him after a
show.
"We're eternally grateful," Phil told Houdini when at last
the crowd began to thin and the magician, his wife and entourage
were about to leave. "It seems like a lot of trouble to put you
to for such a small audience."
"Listen to me, Phil," said Houdini. "You did me a favor.
When I beat that Egyptian's time on his immersion, some people
said I was lucky. They said I couldn't do it again. Tonight the
papers were here and the story goes out on the wires across the
country. So, quickly and easily I nailed it down that I can beat
his one hour time any day I want. That frees me to go on to my
big fall show and develop some new things. I won't be challenged
on that one again. Besides, Bess and I can enjoy a couple of days
off at the beach."
"For which I'm grateful," said Bess Houdini, proudly taking
her husband's arm. Phil noted that Houdini seemed well recovered
from his ordeal of the evening.
Before the magician left he gave Phil some advice.
"I'll leave my metal box. You can have it for a display.
Your business should be good for a couple of weeks in the
aftermath of the publicity. Charge 'em five bucks a head. After
that I'd fold the show. Your place here is really too small. I
struggled for years as a near failure in dime museums in the old
days and nothing can break your heart like small time show
business."
"Oh, I've got a big one coming up," smiled Phil.
"Good boy. Once you get off the ground, keep flying!"
Houdini and his group were gone with friendly waves. Phil stood
there feeling great. There was no limit to the man's talents; in
addition to everything else he was a pioneer aviator, which is why
he left Phil with that aeronautical advice.
Vic Singleton was beside himself with delight. "Tonight was
big time for me!" he crooned. "Tonight was the big night of my
life. I looked the mayor and the police chief in the eye and they
looked right back and smiled. We even shook hands. You were
right, boy. It was time for me to leave the rackets. That
Houdini of yours was really something. I'm going to have those
pictures framed in gold!"
"There's more to come," said Phil. But he was too astute to
introduce his new idea while Singleton floated on the euphoria of
tonight's success.
Everyone was so hopped up by the excitement that they gave a
midnight show, charging $5 a head this time and filled the place.
Flair was in good spirits and Texas Bunny was in good voice. Even
George, the cynic, seemed mellow.
"In show business you get one good night a year," he said.
"Tonight was our night for this year."
Two days later Phil saw Maddy for the first time.
She was half-naked in that first sight of her because Vic
Singleton had stripped her of her nurse's whites to her waist and
feasted on one of Maddy's round, ivory breasts. Maddy Metcalf had
the clearest, finest textured skin Phil had ever seen on a woman.
In addition she had lustrous black hair that fell well below her
shoulders. Not for her the short-haired flapper style that the
hot mamas of the day favored!
Phil had started to leave the bath to go into the master
bedroom of the yacht when the other two entered the room and began
their love play. They didn't see or hear him because Vic's sexual
attack on the girl absorbed them both.
"Oh, Vic, should we?" moaned Maddy. She gasped and rolled
her head in sensuous pleasure as the older man assaulted first one
and then the other of her big, pink nipples.
"We should!" laughed Vic.
Phil froze in shock, unable to believe his eyes. He'd come
three thousand miles to find his former girl and to give her fame
in a new career. A thousand nights since she'd left him in 1924
he'd dreamed wistfully of holding that firm yet feminine body in
his arms and caressing that creamy, delectable skin, pillaging her
rich charms once more. Her brilliant green eyes would go dazed
with passion; her nipples of those high, full breasts would harden
and her tight little cunt would gleam with desire juices.
Like most endurance swimmers, like Flair, Maddy had a
voluptuous and sturdy body. She had strong flanks and buttocks,
shapely arms, a graceful back and powerful, tapered thighs and
calves. Her flesh was tight on her frame, and that clear ivory
skin made her a lover's dream.
Only it was Phil's millionaire patron who held the girl in
his arms, fixed his mouth to those nipples and kissed those well-
shaped lips. Maddy moaned in desire.
As Phil watched, thunderstruck, Singleton peeled off the rest
of Maddy's clothes and there she stood naked, exactly as Phil
remembered her. Worse, she stood in the exact spot where Flair
Singleton had jacked Phil off in her virgin lust, a little over
two weeks ago.
Phil's cock began to thicken even as he stared in horror at
the scene before him.
Vic who wore only a robe pulled the nude girl to the bed.
"Vic, is it safe?" asked Maddy.
"Sure, baby, they're all on shore with my water show, your
uncle George, your ex-boyfriend, Texas Bunny and Flair. I gave
orders for nobody to come aboard tonight. The crew and servants
are all below."
"How is Phil?"
"That kid is the greatest. Did I tell you about Houdini?"
"I read the story and saw the pictures in the New York
papers."
"Listen, wait till you hear the rest of it. I'm sponsoring
an endurance swim way out on Catalina Island in California near
Hollywood. Since Gertrude Ederle got her ticker tape parade in
New York and became a national heroine, endurance swimmers are hot
news."
"I saw her. They say she'll star at the Philadelphia
Sesquicentennial and get $10,000 for it."
"And you can be the next Gertrude Ederle, baby. Listen."
Vic took off his robe, revealing his own nudity. An average-
sized cock, very hard, jutted up from a nest of white-streaked
pubic hair. The sight of it sickened Phil as did the realization
that the older guy had a pretty good body. Phil guessed that
bootlegging had kept old Singleton physically active. Maddy took
hold of that rival cock and jogged it, while Vic rubbed his hand
into the glossy black hair around Maddy's cunt and then fingered
into her. They both moaned and made pleasure sounds of sexual
arousal. "Mmmmmmm. Ah, ah."
Phil's cock was hard, and so were his fists. He burned to
leap into that bedroom and kill Vic, but he was still too stunned
to act.
"Your clever boyfriend, Phil - " Vic resumed.
"Ex-boyfriend," Maddy interjected.
". . . has got it all fixed up," said Vic. "He has an
agreement with the owners of Catalina Island to put on an all-
invitational swim. Since I'm putting up the dough, it'll be the
Victor Singleton Invitational Catalina Swim. It's open to
everybody, amateur and professional. Dubs and pros. I'll get my
name in every newspaper in the world because nobody's swum that
channel yet, not on record. How do you like that?"
"It sounds great." Maddy leaned up on her elbow to look down
at Vic. "I'm glad Phil's finally getting a break."
"Now comes the best part. You, Maddy Metcalf, will win that
swim, Phil thinks. He wants to train you for the next two or
three months. We put on the big swim next January. At that time
of the year the island is dead. This brings in a thousand
tourists which the owners like, which is why they've agreed to
it."
"Oh, Vic!" breathed Maddy.
"We'll both be world famous!" cried Singleton. Me as
sponsor, you as swim winner. Then we can get married!"
"Oh, Vic!" cried Maddy.
It was as if someone had hit Phil with an axe. Married! It
had gone that far!
"We are going to get married, aren't we?" asked Vic.
"I told you I would, lover," said Maddy. "First you had to
give up bootlegging."
The fact that Vic wanted to marry Maddy and that she would
accept him stopped Phil cold. Now he could not invade that
bedroom to try to reclaim Maddy. He could only listen in agony.
And watch . . . as Maddy leaned over Vic's body and sucked his
prick into her mouth.
"Ohhhh, lover!" crooned Vic happily.
"Does Phil know about us?" asked Maddy, jacking off the man
in the soft gleam of her saliva. "Does Flair?"
"Uh, so good! Flair suspects, but Phil doesn't know. I told
him you nursed my mother when the old lady won't let anybody near
her but Old Lady Cosgrove. Nobody knows you're on my payroll but
working in New York charity wards until I could convince you to
marry me."
"I'm ready," said Maddy.
Phil felt his world shatter. Everything he'd done for Maddy
would fall into Vic's arms. His project . . . Vic had the money
for that, he didn't. Vic and Maddy would come out on top of the
Catalina swim. Worse, he'd actually removed the last barrier to
their marriage by pulling Vic out of the rackets. Before that
Maddy wouldn't marry him. He? He was no better than a servant,
like those two thugs Vic used to keep with him. Even worse than
that, he could hardly be angry at Vic. He'd deflowered Vic's
daughter in front of the older man's eyes, just about. He had
shot off his gun in the mouth of Vic's mistress as the man walked
in on it. He owed Singleton something for that and Vic got it
back now by taking his woman!
"There's one more hitch, Vic," said Maddy. Phil listened as
hard as Vic did. "You'll have to get rid of Texas Bunny. She's
your mistress."
"Ah, child, I'm through with that mixed-up broad. Do you
know she actually wanted me to fuck her in the ass? Perverted!
I've already walked away from that one!"
And who, thought Phil bitterly, made Texas bold enough to
reveal her back door hang-up. I did by falling in with her
fantasy.
"Such vulgar talk," said Maddy. "I don't want to hear any
more."
Then Maddy gave a happy laugh, straddled the ex-bootlegger
and fit his stiff shaft to her pink slit. They both bucked and
Phil saw the ultimate horror, Vic's cock violate Maddy's precious
cunt to take possession of her belly.
Tears stung Phil's eyes as he watched Maddy's elegant legs
spread wide, Vic's prick work in and out of her belly and her
white buttocks squeeze in ecstasy. He wanted to tear himself
away, yet he could not. It was as if he had a penance to pay to
watch his rival fuck his dream girl. He witnessed their carnal
pleasure, their grunts and moans of rising passion, seeing the
man's blade flash faster and faster into his beloved, decorated
with her hot, willing juices. She flexed and keened in exquisite
joy. It seemed forever before they rose to climax, but Phil
watched it all. At last Vic held those white, round buttocks to
lock Maddy's pelvis to his and gave a happy cry. "Oh, I'm gone!"
and spurted his hot seed into her cunt.
"Vic, ohmigod!" responded Maddy. She gave up her own orgasm
in healthy pleasure as Phil could tell from her paralyzed body,
dazed eyes and loin jerks.
As they clung together, panting, glowing from their hot sex
run, he could finally turn away in sorrow. Behind him the window
leading on to the deck was big enough for him to escape through.
He managed to get out on the deck, where he stood alone, staring
up at a big moon that made the black waters of the bay glitter.
He'd swum out here alone. An hour before after the last show
he'd met Flair as he strolled toward the Steel Pier heading for
his boarding house. She told him Maddy had arrived and was on
Vic's boat. She said they weren't supposed to go over there till
morning; she was staying over with Texas. Even then he hadn't been
suspicious.
But walking on alone he suddenly decided to surprise Maddy.
He hid his clothes on shore and swam to the yacht, enjoying the
cool night air. In these magic moments he was on top of the
world. Once aboard the yacht he went straight to the bathroom for
relief, and that was where Vic and Maddy trapped him and changed
his life forever. In a single hour he'd been plunged from the
heights to the depths.
A dripping figure came up onto the deck from the ladder.
Moonlight glittered on the gleaming, nude figure of Flair
Singleton, water drops like crystals.
"I saw you swim out," said the girl. "I figured I didn't
want to spend the night on land either."
Phil was still in a state of shock. "Your father . . .
Maddy. They're lovers! They plan to get married."
"I was afraid of that," said Flair. "He's been chasing that
stupid broad for a long time."
"He . . . they . . . I saw them just now. They fucked!" cried
Phil as if it were something beyond all human ken.
"You still love her," said Flair.
"No, of course not, I . . . ."
Phil became aware of a shooting pleasure in his penis. He
looked down. Both Flair's hands had closed over his hard-on. His
prong was still rigid from the hot scene in the cabin.
"Oh, now," he said, startled.
"Texas has told me about oral sex. She gets great store on
what she called 'cocksucking'. Will you teach me?"
"Flair, I . . . ."
Phil wanted to say he was in no mood for sex. He never
wanted to touch a woman again in his life. His soul was shattered
and he'd been thinking of diving over the side of the yacht and
sinking into the depths. He could see the shocked, sorrowful
faces of Vic and Maddy as they stared down at his corpse in his
coffin. How they'd regret their hot sex together!
Flair fell to her knees. She bent his cock down. She took
it in her mouth. She sucked on it awkwardly. Phil felt a whisper
of sexuality turn into a rush of pleasure.
"Now, Flair, dammit!" he protested.
"Teach me, Phil! I have to find out what suck is like."
"Oh, listen, I don't think I want to . . . ahhh!" Without
thinking he bunted his cock into Flair's hot, sucking mouth,
feeling the wetness, feeling the sexy ridge of her teeth drag over
those sensitive cock nerves.
"It tastes like meat!" she exclaimed in surprise and seized
his jong once again.
He howled. She'd bitten down too hard. He pulled her loose.
"What am I!" he cried. "Some kind of frigging sex teacher to
all of Vic Singleton's women? Stop it!"
But she merely said, "You want it," and sucked in his prick
again, this time softer but with elegant power. Incredible rushes
of delight shot through his belly. He held onto her wet, silken
head and fucked into her mouth with a groan. She was absolutely
right. The lines of her naked body, glistening with water drops,
the feel her outrageous, beautiful mouth on his rod, whipped up
his lust right through all his sorrow and anger. But he tried one
more time.
"Flair, I spend all my life getting into trouble over sex.
For once I'd like to walk away from it. Control m-my . . . oh, my
. . . lust. Do you understand?"
She stopped sucking on him and looked up at his face, her
lovely features incredible in the moonlight.
"Teach me to suck," she said.
They were absolutely alone on the deck. He hadn't had relief
since the anal trip with Texas two days before Houdini came. His
pleasure nerves were on fire. He slid down to the deck, pulled
the voluptuous girl flat beside him. He placed his cock at her
mouth and his head at her cunt.
"I'll teach you the double suck!" he cried. He nuzzled his
head into her crotch and found her cunt.
"Wup!" she said. "Hoooo." She shuddered in pleasure,
scissored her legs around his head. "Texas didn't say it worked
both ways."
He ran his tongue into her hot, wet vagina, stroking her
stiffened clitoris. She gave a gasp of pleasure wounding. "Oh,
my goodness! Oh, my soul!"
Vic's meat. Vic's beautiful young daughter, incredibly sexy,
dumb, cold, phlegmatic. But underneath her father-repressed
surface she might be an animal of lust.
"My cu . . . my box!" she whimpered. He remembered that she
could not say "cunt". He inhaled a circle of her cunt flesh with
her clit in the middle of it. He tongued on the girl's main sex
nerve and thrilled to feel her whole, rich body quiver and jerk in
exquisite pleasure. All he had to do was caress less than a cubic
inch of flesh in her big body and he controlled the whole lovely
carcass. He laughed in rueful humor. Drunks returned to the
bottle. Sex destroyed him and he returned to sex. He gulped down
her sweet gland juices, hot, exciting.
"Flair, have you had sex since that time with me?"
"No! I hate men. I'll never marry. I just wanted to try
this one thing."
He hugged her firm but soft thighs in delight.
"You're a cold bitch," he laughed, "but I can fuck you. And
suck you. I'll bet I could even cornhole you. I own you. You're
helpless girl meat. I could even marry you if I wanted."
"No! No! I don't love you. I don't love anybody."
He felt wildly reckless. He pulled his head off her
steaming, streaming box. "Then let's stop this sex right now."
She didn't answer. She just grabbed his cock and began to
suck on it. He laughed in triumph and gripped her buttocks. She,
too, had gorgeous hams, as rounded as Texas Bunny's but much more
firm and muscular. He parted her mounds and ran his tongue up onto
her ass pucker. She jerked as if shot.
"Holy mackerel!"
"Suppose I sucked out your cunt juices, pronged my tongue
into your asshole and then rammed it into your mouth," he said.
"You'd love that, wouldn't you, Flair."
"Holy mackerel!"
But he was through teasing her. He was burning hot with
throw desire. Her body was moist with sex sweat and his words had
inflamed her poor puritanical mind. She humped crazily on his
mouth and tried to suck his blade. In a trembling voice, feeling
the hot joy of her eager attempts on his prong, he instructed her
on how to give him pleasure. He dug his tongue into her cunt,
sucked more of her juices, fingered into her flowing vagina and
kept up a steady rhythm on her clit. Her big body writhed in
ecstasy and he could imagine her dazed, strained face as she
experienced her first double trip of oral sex.
"Phil, it's crazy, wild. I never dreamed anything could feel
so good. Oh, oh, oh."
He'd lost Maddy, he acquired Flair, whom he didn't
particularly want. But the big, dumb kid was one hot sex package,
sixty times better than masturbation.
She was in her pre-orgasmic distress now, bucking, gasping,
hardly able to keep up her part of the suck. Her magnificent body
heaved in her desire to surrender her womanhood to him. Once
again he tongued up into her crack. Her seam was ripe now with
her escaped cunt oils, very sexy. He pressed his tongue on her
sphincter and worked it, knowing that the sensitive nerves that
protected her life-necessary hole were set on fire. She
responded.
"Yeeee," she went. "Yeeee!"
She came up to lock with a gasp of wonder. Those silken
thighs clamped around his head. Her muscles tensed. Then she
gave up her cunt to him. Throb, throb, throb. God, she did have
a store of passion which, for some dumb reason, he was the one to
reach. Keening "Oh, oh, oh," she gave him her full, complete
orgasm with surprising openness. In the past he'd found that some
shy girls remained shy in bed.
At last she fell back, spent, panting. "Phil, it was sooooo
good."
He laughed and pulled her warm body on top of his. "Now it's
my turn."
She'd learned her lesson well. In seconds she had him dizzy
and grunting as she sucked, tongue and teased his prick with the
bony ridge of her teeth.
"Oh, Flair. Close . . . close . . . getting there!" he
crooned.
Then he passed the ineffable, inevitable boundary when it was
no longer possible to stop his orgasm.
"Remember, drink!" he grunted as he slid into paralysis.
"I Will!"
She sucked. He exploded.
Spurt, spurt, spurt. His jism was liquid fury, expended
against his sorrow, his shock and his eternal lust. Flair held
his cock in her mouth and drank off the spasms of relief and
pleasure as he had ordered, milking him deliciously.
"Ah, Flair, drink! Ah, God, good!" he sang, letting it all
go and spume out of him into her mouth, down her throat, his
powerful manhood spurting what felt like a gallon of body-hot jism
into her being. When he tapered, his prick felt immediately
sensitive, so he withdrew it, catching his breath, delighted with
the saliva sting on his blade, at all like sex. He kissed and
nibbled Flair's satiny thighs in appreciation, and she responded
in kind, the two of them stretched out flat and naked on the deck.
Footsteps. Suddenly he heard Maddy's voice.
"Oh, for heaven's sake!"
He looked up and there stood Maddy staring down on them,
obviously seeing what had happened. Maddy was fully dressed. She
was alone.
"Pig!" she cried. "Filthy, disgusting. Phil, you haven't
changed a bit in two years. You're a regular sex maniac!"
Chapter 5
The Twentieth Century Limited roared into Chicago and dropped
off Vic Singleton's group on its way to the coast. Out of Chicago
they took the Coast Flyer for the rest of the transcontinental
hop.
The train swayed and bounced at a high rate of speed, but
George Panther was bored. They had three more days and nights to
reach Los Angeles, and nobody was happy in the group except Vic
and Maddy.
It was the middle of September, with Atlantic City and the
water show behind them. As Houdini predicted, they'd had a couple
of good weeks of business, filling the aquarium twice a night at
five dollars a shot, and then suddenly it all faded, so they
closed the show. It was time to move on to California and Vic's
Invitational endurance swim.
Now it was early evening as they beat their way across
Illinois towards Kansas City. Texas Bunny sat in George and
Phil's compartment talking over the future in glum tones with
George.
"Phil's in the club car getting stewed tonight, like last
night," said George. "You know why?"
"Of course I know why," said Texas. "Maddy's compartment is
right next to Flair's and mine. Vic Singleton spent most of the
night in with her. Phil's really carrying the torch for that
ridiculous brunette."
"And you're carrying the torch for Vic, and Flair's sore at
her old man for planning to marry Maddy," said George. "One big,
happy family."
"I'm lucky Vic even brought me along," said Texas in her shy,
quiet voice. "But if I can get out to Hollywood, maybe I can find
a spot in pictures."
George knew her hope. They were experimenting with sound in
motion pictures these days. As a singer, Texas thought she might
get in on the ground floor. George doubted that sound would make
the grade. It was a great idea but there were thousands of
theatres across the land, none wired for sound, and the cost to
change them would run higher than the national budget.
"At least you have no problems," said Texas. "You'll stay
with the team and do the swim." There was no place for her in the
Catalina action.
"I got problems," said George. "Everybody's fucking everybody
in this group, if you'll excuse my French, but I'm not getting
any."
Texas laughed. "There're all kinds of women on this train."
"I've seen 'em," said George. "How about you and me
tonight."
"Sorry, George," said Texas. She rose quickly. "I like you
but not in that way."
"A million times I've heard that," gloomed George.
After she left, George sat there nursing his flask and
feeling bad about his low position on the totem pole. Vic could
tap Maddy and Texas Bunny. He was pretty sure Phil had racked up
Texas as well as Flair. Three gorgeous broads and he got nothing.
It just wasn't fair. Fuck Maddy, his niece? Why not? She was
like a stranger to him.
After a bit Phil came in, looking rocky and glum, stripped
and fell into his bunk. He was snoring before George could get
out of the compartment. Poor guy, his big triumph was dust in his
mouth.
George headed for the club car to find the swaying train's
passengers already settling down for the night. Berths were made
up, people were retiring.
George found Vic Singleton in the club car, with a worried
look, going over his figures for the Catalina swim. Phil was
really sticking big numbers on Singleton's board; it had to be a
class operation. Good for Phil.
He spoke with Vic for a moment who said:
"Oh, George, would you mind giving Maddy a message for me?
Tell her I'm going to bed early tonight." He gave George a wry
smile. "Getting a little too much sex, I'm afraid," he whispered.
"You know, older guy, younger woman. They want a lot. You see,
if I go to tell her, I'll get excited again and the first thing
you know it's another night in her compartment. I'm plumb wore
out."
"It must be hard," said George, burning with envy.
"Or soft," kidded Vic. "A little too soft tonight."
He was gone with the wave of his hand.
George began to look for a knowing porter who did not believe
in the Volstead Act and would find a way to refill his flask.
I'll tell her, her thought. In fact, I'll put a one-night stand
for you, Vic, and try to keep the kid happy. I oughta be good for
one night.
Flask refilled, wallet lighter, George headed back to their
Pullman, his resentment growing. What he ought to do was tie
Vic's kid on her bunk and rip off a piece himself. He was getting
real tired of moving among these three luscious dames and not
getting any.
"I'm tired of men," said Flair to Texas Bunny. Flair sat on
her bunk in her panties and bra watching the platinum blonde comb
her hair.
"Tell me about it," said Texas. She smiled to herself. She
knew that Flair had been a virgin until recently and had had no
man except Phil. Wonderful Phil, with that huge, stiff prong.
"I'll never marry," said Flair.
"Good idea, honey. Men drain you," said Texas. She had a
suspicion of Flair's problem. Since Flair's father had dropped
Texas, Flair had suddenly become friendly with her. Right now
Flair hated Maddy.
"I could be a lesbian," said Flair.
"Sure you could, honey," said Texas. "With your looks you
could be anything." It was said without rancor. Texas was well
satisfied with her own beauty, except that she was thirty to
Flair's twenty. But so what?
"Have you ever done it?" asked Flair.
"Done what, Flair?"
"Made love to another woman."
"Not me!" laughed Texas. "There's no chance of a home, kids
and a strong wage-earner if you go that way."
"You don't want a home and kids," said Flair. "You want to
sing, excite men and make your money."
Suddenly Texas felt herself caught from behind and felt a
warm, near-nude body pressing her. "You're sexy," said Flair
dreamily. "Soft, sweet."
"My meat is loose on my bones, honey," laughed Texas
nervously. She put down her comb. "Some men like that."
Flair kissed Texas on the back of the neck where shoulder
joined throat. Texas shivered in a tremor of excitement.
"I'll bet we could make it," whispered Flair.
"Oh child, cut it out!" said Texas in alarm.
"I have to learn about sex," said Flair. "I'm twenty and
totally ignorant."
Texas felt strong hands cup her breasts from behind. She
wore only a thin dressing gown and her nipples jumped to life as
Flair squeezed them. Texas felt a rush of sexuality clear down to
her cunt.
"Nice," said Flair. Her voice sounded aroused.
"Cut it out!" cried Texas in her soft voice, thoroughly
alarmed.
A strong hand ran up the slope of her throat and turned her
head to her shoulder. Flair's warm lips sought hers and kissed.
"We're all alone in here, nobody to see or hear," whispered
Flair. "We could get ourselves off and nobody would know. Isn't
that swaying of the train sexy?"
"Forget it!" cried Texas in distress. She jumped up and
freed herself. She turned to her bunk. Flair gave an excited
laugh and caught her, fell on her taking her down on the bunk.
"Why don't we fool around a little?" said Flair.
Texas was really scared now. Flair was athletic, strong,
weighed more than she did, and was younger to boot. And willful.
Worse, that kiss on the lips had excited her some.
"Lay off of me!" cried Texas. She began to struggle which
was a mistake. Flair held her down and wrestled, peeling off her
robe. Texas found herself naked with Flair's big breasts almost in
her face.
"Oh damn!" said Texas. She tried to strike Flair but the
younger girl held her arm.
"You screwed my father," said Flair. "Why not try the rest
of the Singleton meat."
"Flair!" gasped Texas. "Stop." Flair had put her strong
hand on Texas Bunny's cunt.
Texas didn't know what to do. Flair was sort of spoiled,
always got what she wanted. She might get them into deep trouble
without realizing it. Then she had to gasp as Flair held her
tight and fingered first along her cunt lips and then began to
work a digit inside.
"Oh, Flair, don't do this!" she begged.
"I've never felt inside a cu-box except my own," said Flair.
"Even that I couldn't feel much of until I lost my maidenhead.
Just let me feel."
"No, no, no!" cried Texas, struggling. Her butt came off the
bed, her legs spread. She gave a fruity groan as her teased cunt
wetted and Flair's long finger dipped into her honey interior.
"Ohmigod," Texas whimpered. Thrill after thrill shot up her belly
as Flair force-masturbated her. That demanding finger caressing
her clit was arousing her, heating her up.
"You're so good looking," breathed Flair. Her hot eyes swept
Texas's body. Frigging Texas, she suddenly dropped her head and
began to suck one of Texas's tits.
"Aw, Gawd!" gasped Texas, thrilling, struggling, dizzy with
sudden good feeling.. Flair had a real tight friction going on her
clit. That questing tongue on her nipple crazed her further.
Flair lifted her head. "You're one hot bitch," she said as
they both watched Texas Bunny's loins rock and buck to the
masturbation.
"Oh my God, Flair, please don't d-do this," Bunny begged.
"I just want to see," began Flair. Then suddenly she capped
Bunny's soft lips with hers and forced open Bunny's mouth. Texas
felt the soft, smooth tongue slide in.
In spite of herself Texas took the hot, wet kiss for a few
seconds as her heart thumped madly. She was hot now with her cunt
flowing and her belly on fire with desire.
"I can make you come!" cried Flair, like a kid with a new
toy. "I know I can!"
"S-s-sure!" moaned Texas. She was fairly lost now, rocking
her taken cunt on Flair's finger, her nipples burning, her belly
ready.
The attack stopped as suddenly as it had began. Flair
removed her finger, let go of Texas Bunny and fell back on the
bunk. Her own hand moved to stroke her own cunt.
"I'm wet," she announced. "I'm kind of hot."
Texas was plenty hot. For some reason this sudden withdrawal
made her mad.
"You bitch!" she cried in her soft voice. She flung herself
on Flair's body, and bit the hard, standing nipple of one of
Flair's gorgeous breasts. She expected Flair to scream, but the
girl only moaned in pleasure. The bra had saved her.
"Oh, yessss, I like that!" crooned Flair. While Texas looked
at her astonished, she unhooked her bra and presented her naked
tit. Texas bit again on the exposed hard nipple, felt the caress
of the soft breast flesh. She felt her belly heat up some more.
It was delightful to kiss another woman's breasts with ardor.
Especially a good-looking girl like Flair.
"I like it, too!" said Texas. She palmed one nipple and ate
the other. Criminy, Flair was really built. Her own nipples
thrilled to dig against Flair's smooth, yielding flesh.
"Just a minute."
Flair struggled under Texas and removed her panties. Their
naked bellies came together. Softly they both made fuck motions
against the pelvis of the other. Texas found the results were
startling. Female pelvic bones dragged sexily on soft, wet cunts,
stimulating eager clitoris. Flair's hot cunt honey smeared on
Texas's platinum bush. She moaned, while Flair gasped.
Flair put her hands on Texas' soft buttocks and held their
loins tight together while they ground out glory, each staring
into the other's eyes, with expressions of daring, pleasure,
wonder and even a little embarrassment flitting over their faces,
each emotion in turn.
"Incredible," said Flair.
"Sexy," said Texas.
"Hot, wet," said Flair.
"We can come like this," breathed Texas, humping faster.
Time stopped for Texas Bunny, getting the best of the action
in the superior position. She was wildly excited by Flair's body
now, experiencing a totally new sensation. Flair was muscled but
not like a man. She wasn't hard, just firm. Her hot young skin
flowed through Texas' hands as the singer rocked and crooned in
pleasure, white hot from the clit contact. Texas kissed and
nibbled Flair's big nipples until the younger woman whimpered in
distress-desire. She sank her mouth on Flair's sucking out juices
from the hot young mouth; she felt the big, voluptuous body squirm
and writhe deliciously under her. All the time she was rising,
rising.
And the train swayed along in a gentle, sexual motion that
added fire to her flames.
"Oh, God, I'm fucked!" Texas cried as she reached her peak.
She stared down at Flair in horror as she realized she was about
to spend her womanhood in perverted lesbian debauchery. There was
no way to stop it. She thrilled to ecstasy.
"Oh, Flair!" She froze and paid off her sex treasure. Throb,
throb, throb. Her cunt thudded and fluttered in delicious spasms
that quenched the hot, brilliant fire in her belly. Flair held
her buttocks tight and ground off Texas' deep body throbs with her
pelvis, while Texas moaned and Flair murmured happily to feel this
new sex experience, a hot, flowing cunt expiring against her
belly. The combined female juices oiled their bellies, cunts and
thighs liberally.
Then breathing hard Texas slumped on top of Flair's nudity
and gave a tinkling laugh.
"Does that answer your question?"
"Oh, Texas, what have I got us into?" cried Flair. Having
forced the other woman's sexuality, her puritan nature took over.
"Into some hot girl fucking," laughed Texas. She spread
Flair's thighs and went for her muff and slit, licking avidly at
the spent juices, so warm and musky. As long as they'd started it
was better to wallow than dip.
Texas was the aggressor now as she sucked and tongued Flair's
burning cunt. Flair lay there, legs spread, hot mouth eating her
cunt and felt astonished. She had merely been watching Texas comb
her hair shortly before and had wondered what a man would think,
staring at the singer. She'd fooled around a little and look at
what they were into. But it was great fun to play with Texas
Bunny's soft, helpless body. To finger into her box, kiss her
shapely breasts and suck on her weak, sensual mouth. Texas was
all woman. Now Texas was taking her.
Flair lifted her butt from the bed and fucked happily on the
other's face. She gave herself thrills by cupping her own breasts
and releasing the heavenly fire of nipple stimulation. She felt
pierced into her being, almost as taken as if Phil's big,
impossible prick grooved into her passage.
"Lovely, oh, lovely!" she sang, rising to peak.
"Go, you bitch," laughed Texas. Her small fox-like face was
smeared with love juices as she peered over Flair's belly. "You
wanted the trip, now pay the price." Then she sucked hard again
on Flair's cunt and Flair went right up through the train roof.
"Oh, he, he, he heeeee!" she stormed, lifting again and
feeling her body lock in exquisite pre-orgasm. She hung there and
quivered as her sex system got ready to deliver.
"Go!" she yipped.
Throb, throb, throb. Her cunt squeezed out flame and relief
in one of her strong orgasms, her organ convulsing much as she
thought a prick must do when it exploded. She gave sobs of
delight, relief and pleasure as she gave up her own sex treasure
to her pillaging lover. Again and again she threw off convulsive,
rich throbs of tribute to the hungry mouth that clung to her
belly. Finally desire, relief and pleasure ebbed, to leave her
panting and glowing, fully taken.
"I guess we . . . did it," she said shyly to Texas Bunny.
Texas crawled up on her big body and laid on top of her
again.
"How about one more time before we go back to the world of
the normal," said Texas, as she teased Flair by smearing her cunt-
oiled cheeks on Flair's.
George Panther didn't deliver Vic's message to Maddy right
away. Instead he went back to his compartment to listen to Phil
snore and tap his flask a little, but not too much. He kept
thinking about the beautiful set-up that only he knew about.
Singleton had bought them four compartments right in a row. A
compartment, or bedroom, had two bunks, its own toilet that the
railroad called "enclosed facility" and plenty of room to move
around in privacy. During the day the bunks made two quite
adequate sofas to lounge on. In the Singleton string, there was
Maddy, all alone on one end, as befitted Vic's intended. Next
came Texas and Flair's. Flair didn't want to be alone, so she
bunked in with Texas. Then came Phil and George together, and
finally Vic all alone in the fourth compartment, as befitted their
bankroller.
So Maddy was all alone in her big private compartment,
waiting for Vic to sneak in for some fun as he had done last
night. Except Vic wouldn't be coming tonight. George tried to
imagine a way he could entice Maddy to trade off. Maybe he could
get her drunk . . . no, the nurse-athlete didn't drink. Maybe he
could appeal to her because he was eight years younger than Vic,
but still a father figure. No, that wouldn't work. What if he
jollied her and kidded around? Some people like to cheat on their
lovers, get a little secret outside sex. Adultery was based on
that. But he didn't think Maddy was the type and even if she
were, she wouldn't take chances on losing Vic before they were for
Crissake even married.
It would make a great Mack Sennett comedy, but life wasn't
show business, nor a comedy. It was just dull. Still, he'd give
a hundred dollars for ten minutes of hot sex with Maddy; it would
brighten this whole humdrum train trip for him.
A lot later he went out into the corridor and checked Vic's
bedroom. Vic's door was locked, the guy was bedded down for the
night. He listened at the door of Texas and Flair's compartment,
and he thought he heard voices. It didn't matter. Once women
took off their public clothes and makeup they weren't likely to go
parading around train corridors. Those ladies were also in for
the night. Nor with the singsong rumble of the train wheels on
the track would they be able to hear anything that went on next
door at Maddy's.
George stood in the tight corridor on the swaying train for
long moments before he knocked on Maddy's door to deliver Vic's
message that Vic wouldn't be coming. It must have been about ten
o'clock but it felt like one in the morning. Absolutely nobody
was moving in this car, as far as he could see either way.
What would happen, he'd go in, deliver his message, make some
dumb verbal pass, be refused and be out and back in his own
compartment in less than a minute. She might just open the door
and peek out and that would be all he got, a peek at a slice of
her face and "goodnight".
Shit. Forget stolen sex. Knock on her door, deliver Vic's
message and get it over with. His flask never said "no" to him.
He tapped on Maddy's door. Nothing happened. He tapped
again and waited but nothing happened. He knew her door was not
locked; it had to be open or Vic couldn't slip in. The railroad
didn't hand out keys.
He opened her door and peeked in. The dim night light was
on. Maddy laid on top of her bunk waiting for her lover, and she
wore a sheer gown of silk that was mere gauze. He could see both
her nipples plainly through the filmy stuff.
She was fast asleep!
Heart pounding, George Panther slipped into her compartment
and closed and locked the door.
Chapter 6
The train wheels clicked and the Pullman car rumbled while it
swayed gently. George was all alone in a locked compartment with
sexy young Maddy. She continued to sleep without the slightest
sign of being aware anybody was in the room, her charms in that
see-through negligee on bold display. Her skin was incredibly
white and fine; her figure incredibly good. George could see
almost every detail of her two ivory breasts, from the round bases
up the exciting slopes to big aureoles and two succulent nipples.
His niece? Easy to forget that!
His eyes swept on down to her flat stomach and navel, to her
trim abdomen and then the exciting part, a thick bush of luxuriant
black pubic hair that set off the pink of a small cunt that
dazzled him. There was the sweet slope of her thighs and the
clever curves of her calves, her whole body on display for him.
As he sat down tentatively on the sofa the porter hadn't made
up, his cock began to rise. He thought Flair was as sexy a woman
as he'd ever seen. Well, Maddy was Flair with an ivory skin
instead of the tan, and luxurious hair of black instead of gold.
"Oh, baby, you are built!" he informed himself in a murmur.
Just to feast his eyes on the girl's nudity almost paid off
for the trip. Well, he certainly didn't have to leave right away.
She was asleep, apparently good for eight hours. Vic wouldn't be
coming. His pulse was fast, his breathing deep, and his cock was
now stiff in his pants. He sometimes had problems with hardons
with his two dollar whores, but not here! It was more like Maddy
Metcalf was a sexual sleeping beauty.
He unbuttoned his pants and took out his cock. The train did
not come to a screeching halt. Vic did not break down the door
with an axe and rush shouting at him. Maddy did not wake up and
scream. Nothing at all happened. The train rushed on through the
night while the girl bounced sexily from the car motion, loose as
a doll and he sat there with his exposed cock rock hard and
thrilling.
George felt better. He might make something of a sexual
adventure of this after all. Staring at the luscious body he
jerked off until he dry-throbbed, unashamed and unconscious of his
masturbation at his age. He did it whenever he found it necessary
or desirable.
But tonight it didn't make sense when there was luscious
female flesh to touch. He took off his pants and shorts and
mounted Maddy's hips. She neither wakened nor moved except
natural motions of sleep and the bounce of the railroad car.
He laid back her robe exposing her nudity. Her breasts drew
his hands like magnets. He cupped each warm beauty and felt her
unconscious response as the nipples rose to caress his palms.
"Oh, baby!" he thrilled.
She moved to make a brush-off gesture, so he quickly withdrew
his hands. He lowered himself gently until his hard, burning cock
rested on the smooth ivory skin of her belly. He rocked, prick
caught between his belly and hers, feeling rushes of pure delight
throughout his belly. Ah, this was more like it.
He got in about a dozen luscious strokes before she moved and
frightened him into pulling up, his blade now dry-throbbing
furiously from contact with that silken, sleep-hot belly. He felt
pretty wild now. He risked spreading her legs, his heart pumping
furiously. He made it on the second try.
"Great balls of fire, there it is, George!" he exulted.
Her pink cunt was totally open for prick play. But it was
dry, of course. He'd wake her up if he plunged in, and he'd wake
her up if he diddled her to make her juices flow. A neat problem.
He forged ahead anyway, gently rubbing her warm cunt lips to see
what could be done. He knew it was a losing game. By the time he
got her hot and got his cock in she'd be awake and he was dead.
Vic would fire him, he'd lose out with Phil and be put off the
train at the next stop. Was one orgasm worth it?
Yet as he worked slowly and carefully his luck held. The
warm little cunt in his hand grew slippery and began to swell.
Once or twice the girl softly moaned in her sleep and bucked a
little on his fingers. He guessed she was having sweet erotic
dreams about now.
Suddenly his finger slipped all the way into her tight, body-
hot vagina. She was all juiced up. He froze, thrilling to feel
her pink cunt tunnel velvety around his fingers, oiled and ready
now. She murmured groggily and half-opened her eyes. He gasped
in fear and pulled his fingers out.
She moved a little but slept on. Then his eye fell on the
small bottle by her bed. It was Phenobarbital, a liquid sleeping
medicine. He'd used enough of it himself to recognize it. It was
powerful, prescription stuff but easy for a nurse to get. He
chuckled when he saw what had happened. Disappointed when Vic
didn't show up, the girl must've taken a sleeping shot to drift to
sleep. It would take more than gentle manipulation to waken her!
He was really on fire now. He had a good chance to get away
with a fuck! He waited till she settled once again into
undisturbed sleep, his nerves high with desire. She could be had
all the way.
This time he eased her belly up a little and positioned his
prick for entry. Then he pressed it forward, gently but firmly.
His eager blade violated her outer cunt lips, found her notch. He
gave a soft grunt of happiness and oozed into her, the young
vagina gripping his jong with oiled persistence. The friction was
fantastic!
"Oh, oh," he moaned in sublime pleasure. His wildest dream
had been fulfilled. He had his stiff cock fucked right inside
Maddy Metcalf's belly! Their loins slid together as he buried his
cock all the way up into her. She bucked under him and murmured as
if coming awake. He froze, hoping that she . . . .
Catastrophe!
The excitement had been too much for his tensed-up sex
equipment. Just as he got ready for a gentle, long sneak-fuck,
his pleasure nerves overloaded. He was going to have to come and
there was no way to stop it. He groaned in disappointment and
pleasure as he felt the great rise to inevitable ejaculation.
"S-sorry!" he gasped.
Spurt! He'd committed incest with his niece!
He shot off a great dart of liquid relief and joy inside of
her cunt. Then he panicked. She was stirring too much. He
jerked back and out of her cunt, cock gleaming with her oils and
spuming. He laid on the outside of her creamy-smooth belly and
let the rest of his seed spew out. His excitement in this
adventure had been so great that his jism shot clear up her body
to her throat.
Spurt, spurt, spurt. "Ahhh."
As his shots lost force the strings didn't reach so high.
For wild seconds he reveled in his hot throw, jerking, spending,
laying oily sperm down her cleavage and onto her belly. Then he
was done, glowing with good feeling of the after-fuck. Emptied.
But she was a mess. His overfull reservoirs had laid a river
of sperm from her throat, between her breasts, down her belly to
her cunt. And she stirred and gurgled. "Wha'sisss!"
He pulled back off of her, sure she was going to wake up.
But she didn't. She went back to sleep with her sexy body
gleaming with his trail of jism all the way down. He jumped up
and used his pocket handkerchief to clean her as best he could,
then fled the compartment.
Safe in his own bed, he congratulated himself on his big
adventure. He fulfilled his wild dream all the way. He'd gotten
his cock all the way up Maddy's cunt and even shot one lick
against her womb wall. But he wished now he'd finished inside of
her. It wasn't quite as perfect as he'd hoped. But his emptied
groin felt great, and he slept . . . .
Only to awaken with a start and find his cock rock-hard
again. Spilling that semen had only made him eager for more. It
was the old story. The more you got, the more you wanted.
George looked at his watch. He figured it must be near dawn.
Holy Hackensack, no! It was only twelve-thirty. It had only been
two hours ago that he diddled Maddy. Time on the train really
slowed down. At this rate it would be five centuries till dawn.
So there she was, still in her drugged sleep, still naked.
He could go back for more!
Oh, no, George. You dreamed of it; you got it. You told
yourself that one good shot would make this whole train trip
happy. You've had your shot.
But it was a long way till dawn.
He tried to go back to sleep. He could not. His cock stayed
hard his mind in imagining a second successful visit to Maddy's
heavenly compartment.
At last he rose groggily, took a nip of his flask, and
staggered out into the corridor to finish the job he'd botched so
badly out of fright the first time. It was that or lie awake till
dawn with regrets. He was a knight in shining armor off to
complete the unfinished business of his sexual conquest. Only his
armor was merely his shorts. This time he moved quickly, with
determination. He went through the compartment door without
knocking and right to Maddy's bunk.
He'd turned off the light on that first trip, so her bed was
dark. Must remember to leave it on so she wouldn't be wise in the
morning. She was still there, still naked, still sleeping.
Thrilling again, feeling much more confident, he mounted her
body. He felt up her smooth body, the rib cage, cupped her
breasts. Oh, yes. Once again her nipples rose to his palms.
Ahhh. He gently jigged her cunt, getting her wet once more. She
was still a little moist from his last trip; he knew that women
often stayed moist for some time after sex.
She stirred and moaned but he didn't worry this time. In her
drugged sleep he should be able to take her. If she cried out
Vic's name, all he had to do was whisper as if he were Vic. Her
addled mind wouldn't know the difference.
There! She was nice and liquid, her velvety cunt sexy on his
fingers but not nearly as sexy as it would feel on his prick!
Once again he slanted her loins up a little, fitted his cock
to her hole and shoved in past the outer cunt lips to notch her
passage.
"Uuuuuu," he cried softly in delight as his shaft oozed deep
into her body, giving him wild thrills. "You are a fuck," he
murmured.
She stirred and bucked some in her drugged sleep.
"Easy, baby. Keep it quiet," he whispered. Then he began
long, delicious, pleasure-crazing strokes in and out of her cunt.
She started to moan and gasp, flexing under him. His cock thrilled
madly.
"Ah, uh," she went.
"Sleep, sleep," he crooned. "Just enjoy."
He slid over onto her body rocking his prick in and out of
her cunt more and more boldly. He felt her soft thighs quiver and
clutch on his flanks as he began to breathe heavily. She was
half-awake, but of course she would think in the darkness that it
was Vic. The friction really maddened him with pleasure now. He
risked the full hug of her body, kissing those stiff nipples,
nibbling, palming as his fucking loins drove faster and faster.
She was half awake now, grunting in pleasure, taking his fuck
and responding groggily with murmurs and sighs.
Heaven. Pure unalloyed heaven, rocking his cock deep into
the belly of the luscious Maddy with the resilient firm flesh, the
creamy skin, the tight young cunt. He was miles away from his
loose-jointed, two-dollar whores. This was princess stuff.
The train rocked and swayed, adding to his sensuous pleasure,
the plunging cock and cunt met and parted sending streams of
pleasure fire through all of his body. The girl gasped and
writhed and he felt powerful fires begin to consume his belly.
There was nothing like plugging young flappers!
"Oh, baby, oh. I love this kind of train travel."
"Sooo sexxxxy!" she cried softly.
Even as he rose to ecstasy he felt a finger of caution.
Maddy didn't sound drugged. Maddy was fucking him as lusciously as
he fucked her. Maddy was going on his trip! But she thought he
was Vic, so he'd better keep his mouth shut. Anyway, it hardly
mattered because he'd entered the sublime plateau of animal lust
to where orgasm and relief were only seconds away. And how
luscious was the sensation of maddening pleasure on his shaft.
"Going . . . to go . . . ." he whispered.
The hot girl astonished him. At his words, as if they were a
signal, she lifted her powerful loins under him, grunted and began
to give up her womanhood.
"Ah-huh!" she gasped. Throb, throb, throb. "Oh, Phil!"
Something disturbed him but he was too crazed with joy to
worry about it as he felt those strong cunt throbs that told he'd
satisfied his partner and could explode in happiness.
"Here . . . goes!" he hissed in sublime pleasure.
As he froze for orgasm, clutching the voluptuous body, a
light flashed on. A sleepy platinum crowned head peered at him.
"Wha's going on!", asked Texas Bunny. "Whut you doin' to
Flair?"
"Oh, Flair," said George. Then his heart gave a great leap.
"George!" screamed Flair. "Thought you were Phil!"
"Ah-gung," cried George. It was too, too late. He clutched
Flair whose body so closely resembled Maddy's, sang out his joy
and burst. Nothing ever felt so good, hugging that delicious,
tanned body and pumping off his seed deep in her cunt. Spurt,
spurt, spurt.
"Ooooo-ieeeooooeeee," sang George, getting an extra pleasure
lift out of his natural mistake. He gushed and gushed, shivering
in ecstasy as he seeded the kid's body.
"Why are you fucking George!" asked a puzzled Texas Bunny of
Flair.
Flair wanted to stop but the sensual pleasure was altogether
too much. She grunted and lifted up to the spuming cock inside of
her and throbbed off more thrilled cunt spasms to the command of
the male's bursting orgasm.
"There's not a heck of a lot - ahh - I can do about it j-j-
just now!" cried Flair, giving up her sex treasure to the older
man.
George finished in style. You learned that in show business.
If you made a big mistake right up on the stage in front of
everybody the best thing to do was go right ahead like it was part
of the show. Of course he'd staggered into the wrong compartment
in his groggy state and got the wrong girl, but then he dreamed of
pronging Vic's sexy daughter even longer than Maddy. And except
for the skin and hair, they were almost exactly the same in those
voluptuous builds.
"Ah, baby," he murmured, hugging Flair as they both finished
orgasms and fell off the tension to that wonderful after-sex glow.
"I been sleepwalking. Thought I was back in Dallas with my
wonderful Mildred." He'd never been in Dallas and never known a
"Mildred" but an ad-lib was called for and a quick-thinking
showman had to come up with it.
"Mildred, hell," said Flair, eyes flashing as she struggled
out from under him. "When I tell my Daddy you raped me, you'll go
right off this train to jail."
"Pig!" cried Texas Bunny.
George got up and grabbed his shorts. "Sorry . . . ."
The two women were really angry now.
"George Panther, you've ruined yourself," cried Flair. "Look
at me, all filled with your stupid seed."
"Pervert!" said Texas.
But George had a sudden brainstorm. "Hey, Flair you were
kinda moist when I mounted." He whirled, grabbed Texas and felt
in her crotch. Even through her nightie he could feel that her
cunt was much too soft and moist. It had seen action sometime in
this night.
"Well, well," he grinned. "It looks like you girls have been
at each other tonight. Does your daddy know about that, Flair?"
There was a sudden silence in the compartment.
"Just get out of here, George," said Flair after too long a
pause.
"Wou'd've thought it? His ex-mistress and his daughter,
fucking each other's brains out. Probably been going on for
weeks."
Two pillows came flying in his direction as George laughed
and retreated in triumph. He'd knocked off both, Maddy and Flair
in one night. His train trip was turned from a dismal flop to a
sparkling smash hit all in a few hours. There might even be more
up ahead! Maddy didn't know she'd been had, and Flair wouldn't
dare tell. He'd hit a Babe Ruth banger over the right field
fence!
He retrieved his flask and cuddled back happily into his bunk
by the still snoring Phil.
"George," he told the flask as if it were himself, "You're
the cat's pajamas. Or is it the Panther's pajamas?"
Chapter 7
"Pay attention," said Phil.
He was lecturing Vic Singleton, George Panther, Maddy and
Flair on endurance swimming in Vic's suite in a Long Beach hotel.
The ex-bootlegger was having a hard time learning about this
strange world, but with the announcement of the swim contestant to
the papers and radio, Phil insisted that Vic as the sponsor ought
to know a little about swimming and endurance.
Phil pointed out that many land mammals besides man could
swim, and in the case of fire or catastrophe swim well indeed with
no prior experience in the water. Sea mammals, of course, did the
best. Whales could swim for thousands of miles at good speeds.
Seals could swim easily at five miles an hour and reach up to
twenty miles an hour if they were chasing their dinners.
Porpoises had been known to keep up with modern steamships, while
a mammoth sea turtle had been clocked at twenty-two miles per
hour. Penguins could easily do ten miles an hour and go up to
thirty in short bursts. Some had been found more than a thousand
miles from land, quite happy in the desert of the ocean.
Polar bears were great swimmers, well-insulated for their
cold water environment and had been clocked at six miles per hour,
while a trained human swimmer would be lucky to do three for short
bursts.
Tigers and elephants had been found swimming; the only way
they could reach certain isolated islands in the South Pacific or
near Africa. Monkeys had been taught to swim for the inducement
of food thrown upon the water.
Small mammals were likewise capable of good swimming records.
Rats had been kept swimming steadily for fourteen hours, as well
as woodchucks, chipmunks, skunks and possums in stints of six to
eight hours.
"I hope no skunks enter my race," laughed Vic.
"You'll get a few human ones," commented George.
Phil moved on to human swimmers. Slow in speed they could
still last for many hours in the water. Most challenging was the
English Channel swim, first conquered by Matthew Webb in August of
1875 in the time of twenty-one hours and forty five minutes. It
was thirty-six years before anyone was able to successfully swim
the channel again. Several other men accomplished it, but
Gertrude Ederle's recent swim was not only the first female
success, but she set a new time record of fourteen hours and forty
minutes, from France to the English coast and won her ticker tape
parade, fame and money. The English Channel distance was exactly
twenty-two miles.
"But we have a twenty-two mile swim from Avalon to the
California coast," said PhiL "And no one has officially done the
Catalina straits at all. So the publicity, after the Ederle swim,
is going to be enormous. You, Vic, are going to have to know a
little something about professional swimming. The newspapers treat
such swims as a kind of weird circus anyway, so a little reality
coming from you will help the cause."
He then went into some of the factors that made for good
endurance swimming. Protection from the cold was important. That's
why he thought Maddy had a good chance to win this show, because
women's bodies were better insulated than men's, with a fatty
layer just under the skin. However, the Catalina water, even in
January, should not be a great problem. Buoyancy was a factor.
Surprisingly the best endurance swimmers hung low in the water.
Surface swimming offered waves and currents to slow the pace.
Those who could swim deeper in the water did better, so a neutral
or even negative buoyancy was best. The power in swimming came
from the arms and muscles in the upper torso, so the arms should
not be too long; a compact, symmetrical torso and arms in
proportion was best.
Phil didn't believe that legs counted at all in long-distance
swimming.
"The motion's wasted in up and down movement," he said.
"It's like pumping a bicycle where most of the effort is wasted in
up and down motion, maybe ninety percent. I teach my swimmers to
use the legs as little as possible or not at all."
The rest was a matter of the individual's physique. Great
oxygen intake, rapid sugar conversion for energy, a slow heart
rate from good conditioning, plus an iron will to win - these
things made up the pattern of a champion endurance swimmer. To
this you could add training for the specific event and that was
the whole story.
"What about kinds of strokes?" asked George.
"I teach crawl," said Phil. "However, I long ago learned not
to force an ideal stroke on a swimmer. There is no ideal stroke,
because bodies are different. I once saw a swimmer with a
frenzied eighty or ninety strokes a minute, hanging on top of the
water and felt sure he was going to drown. He beat all my well-
trained students instead."
"I remember that," said Maddy as they all laughed.
"What kind of gear will Maddy need?" asked Vic.
"Not much," said Phil. "Endurance swimming is cheap. Nose
clips if she wants, although most don't use 'em. Some ear
protection against later infection, perhaps cotton with a little
oil to combat water penetration. A cap to cover the ears,
certainly. It cuts down heat loss up to twenty percent. Lots of
swims are lost by the swimmer getting too cold; it's as simple as
that. Goggles for the eyes, yes, in salt water."
"And grease?" asked George, fantasizing the bodies of the
girl swimmers glistening sexually.
"Probably," said Phil, "but you have the problem of a thin
grease like Vaseline wearing off too quickly and a thick one like
lanolin being hard to apply. You only need a millimeter or so.
If nothing else it gives a psychological lift. Also it saves the
friction points of the body from burns. Hours in the water and
your armpits, groin, shoulders and even chin begin to ache pretty
badly. But no grease on the face or arms. Grease on the face
makes it impossible to keep the eyegoggles sealed, and on the arms
gives you a loss of the arm's biting power in the water. Greased
arms allow slippage and loss of power.
"Now," he finished, "you already have learned more than
ninety percent of your newspaper readers will know about swimmers
and swimming for records. Anything the reporters ask beyond that
you can turn over to me as technical consultant."
"What if they claim the swim is rigged because Maddy works
for Vic, the promoter?" asked George.
"A swim is a swim is a swim," said Phil. "We'll have
impartial judges. The first one in at Catalina and out at Point
Vicente is the best swimmer and it doesn't matter who she's
related to, or works for. It's a fair swim."
"I'm glad you said that," said Flair. "I'm going to swim,
too. I'm going to hire my own trainer. And I'm going to win,
too."
Having dropped her bombshell, she gave Maddy and the others a
dirty look and left the room while the group stared after her in
astonishment.
To Phil's sorrow the New Jersey group was broken up now.
Flair's sudden decision to enter the swim and compete against
Maddy was only the latest blow.
"How can she do in this race?" George asked Phil.
"Flair's a helluva swimmer," said Phil. "With the right
training and some luck she could give us a bad time."
"How do you feel about Maddy now that she's . . . she's . . .
."
Phil felt his face set sternly. "I dreamed up this whole
thing for Maddy to begin with," he said. "It makes no difference
to me that she's decided to marry Vic. I owe her a good winning
swim and I'll give her my best."
Secretly he felt quite hurt. He realized that he'd counted
on the old intimacy but it was gone. He had Maddy during the
daytime but her nights belonged to Vic. Once the training started
he began to scold her for her night time activities.
"You're losing sleep, f-f-fooling around with your fiance too
much," he complained. "How can I bring you to top form when you
dissipate my work each night?"
She merely gave him a cool, infuriating smile. "Look at my
daily records. At this point in my training I'm way ahead of
where I was when you and I worked together before. Love makes the
difference."
He could've killed her.
Flair disassociated herself from the group. She found her own
trainer and paid him from her own funds. When Phil complained to
Vic he got practically no response.
"She has my guts," said Vic. "It's good for her to step out
on her own."
"She could give us bad publicity."
"Maybe the public will go for my fiance and my daughter
competing for the prize I give," said Vic proudly.
They did. The newspaper and radio stations also began to
build interest in the endurance swim because it was open to all
with no entrance fee, and the prizes were huge. Phil had had a
fierce struggle with Vic on that.
"Twenty-five thousand dollars to the winner!" roared Vic.
"That's five times too much!"
"Twenty-five, fifteen and ten," insisted Phil. "A channel
swim is already thought to be a nutty, useless affair by most
people. But nobody thinks twenty-five thousand dollars is silly,
not even with Wall Street booming."
In the end he won his point, and it was a wise decision. The
newspapers and the public would ignore some ego maniac making the
swim to get his name in the papers. Or a small affair sponsored
by some athletic club for a minor prize was only of limited local
interest. But these days a whole family could live extremely well
on twenty-five hundred dollars a year. A comfortable living for
ten whole years was important money. Invested properly it could
last the winner almost indefinitely.
So the entries poured in, as interest mounted, and the
publicity for the Vic Singleton Invitational Swim grew across the
nation and stimulated interest in foreign countries. Very soon a
snowball effect carried them along to the delight of Vic.
"We've got a legless newspaper vendor from San Francisco, and
a seventy-year-old entry from Nebraska," he told Phil. "One of
the papers is going to start a daily column on us in December, and
I'm almost tired of seeing my name in print. Me, Vic Singleton, a
nobody from Jersey City, New Jersey. I got to hand it to you,
Phillip."
But Phil could only answer with a dour "Thanks." For him it
was afternoons in the training boat following Maddy's daily swims,
directing her conditioning on land, watching her diet and
worrying, as he spent lonely evenings alone in his hotel room. He
was even deprived of the company of Texas Bunny who was lost
somewhere inland a few miles in the dusty streets of Hollywood,
trying to advance her singing career. Nights she had a job
warbling in a small night club, so she didn't come around at all
anymore.
By Thanksgiving he grew philosophical about it.
"Love and sex had crumbed up my life every time out," he told
George. "At least this time there's no chance to spoil things
that way."
"Considering that it almost got you killed with Vic and now
you're his fair-haired boy, I'd say it didn't hurt you too much,"
George responded dryly. As Vic's main publicity man he found life
quite interesting, especially when certain female, nubile entrants
sought his after-hours company with the mistaken idea that they'd
have a better chance if they could get close to an "insider."
The holidays came and went with Phil busy if not happy. He
hardly noticed as the swim date of the middle of January rushed
towards him.
On the night before the race all the contestants were brought
by boat from the mainland to the Avalon settlement in Catalina.
Hotels were filled; most camped in tents along the beach. There
was a general carnival air to the whole area, with the rising
excitement about tomorrow's race. Although more than three
hundred people had entered during the long publicity build-up, the
actual contestants were down to about a hundred and fifty on the
last night before the event. The coldness of the water accounted
for most of the dropouts, because in January the temperature ran
between fifty-five to sixty-five degrees.
Vic Singleton's yacht had been brought around the canal from
Atlantic City a couple of months earlier. On this last night he
gave a candlelight dinner party for a select few in the big dining
room. His guests included a sports editor, the head of the
biggest radio station in the area, a motion picture mogul and
officials from the Long Beach and Los Angeles city councils. The
guests enjoyed champagne and steak as well as the presence of
Flair, Maddy and Texas Bunny, whom Vic invited especially so she
could meet the movie mogul.
It was to be a truce for the night but of course Maddy and
Flair who had to swim tomorrow could not stay late.
After the dinner was over, Maddy, eyes shining, took Phil by
the hand.
"Come to the stateroom," she begged. "I want you to see my
wedding gown. It's the most gorgeous creation I ever saw."
Phil had already seen her wedding gown. Flair had dragged him
there when he first arrived. It was indeed an expensive affair of
white satin and veils, displayed on a dresser's dummy in the big
bedroom. To Phil it looked like enough cloth and train to cover
three brides. Both the gown and the room left a sour taste in his
mouth. It was here that he'd first pronged Flair but it was also
here that he'd seen Vic screw the love of his life and change
everything.
"Very fine," he murmured to Flair.
"What are you going to do about it!" cried Flair. "Right
after the race that slut is going to marry my father!"
What Phil did about it was haul off and slap Flair a
resounding smack on the face. His nerves were screwed up to the
breaking point, but Maddy was no slut. He stalked back to the
dinner, leaving Flair shocked and in silence, glaring after him in
rage.
Now with the dinner over, Maddy wanted him to see the dress
for a second time and he had to go because he couldn't admit he'd
seen it already. On the night before a big race you humored your
star athlete. Flair sat with her father, head resting dreamily on
his shoulder, monopolizing all his attention. Texas Bunny was
involved with the movie mogul, George was making eyes at the
nubile wife of one of the city officials, while the husband loaded
on the champagne. Phil and Maddy slipped away.
The wedding dress was no more. In the short interval that
the dinner had taken place, someone had slipped into the bedroom
and slashed it to threads. Long, useless pieces of satin
fluttered from the dressmaker's form and torn veils littered the
floor.
Phil froze in shock. Maddy gave a gasp and then uttered a
scream of rage. She plunged out of the room. Phil recovered and
rushed after her.
What happened next took place so fast that no one could stop
it. A furious Maddy seized one of the steak knives from the
table, then jerked Flair up from her place at Vic's side.
"You bitch!" shrieked Maddy. She plunged the knife into
Flair's middle. The knife hung there, quivering while Flair
gasped, her face going white and began to crumple. Maddy turned
and sped out of the room, tearing off her dress. Naked but for
panties, she leaped to the boat rail as Phil followed her and
executed a dramatic dive into the water.
Phil cursed, stripped off shoes, pants and coat and went over
the rail after her with considerable less elegance than his idol,
Doug Fairbanks. There were several boats moored at the landing
rack. He climbed into one and started off in hot pursuit of the
swimming Maddy whose head was already beginning to disappear in
the murk.
Silence. Phil and Maddy rested alone in a tent along the
Avalon shore. Phil had caught Maddy, brought her out of the water
but she didn't want to go back to the yacht. He found a friend
who was glad to give up his tent so that Phil could settle Maddy
down. They had a long talk, the first time he'd been able to speak
to her out of Vic's shadow since she'd come back into his life.
Some time passed.
Phil was anxious to know how badly Flair was hurt, but Maddy
insisted that the steak knife wound was slight. "It hardly went
into her at all." Well, Phil couldn't be both places and he was
sure that Vic and George would do all that needed to be done to
help Flair.
The rest of the time they talked about the old days, their
hurts and small triumphs. Phil was delighted to find that she had
her doubts about marrying the older man. As he looked at her in
all her beauty, her face glowing in the soft, golden light of the
kerosene lamp in the tent, he felt his cock begin to thicken. The
old desire to fuck her luscious, creamy body was as strong as
ever.
He put his face close to hers.
"Maddy, are you sure you didn't destroy that gown yourself!"
"What!"
He kissed her on the mouth, thrilling to the soft lips, the
sweet breath. She gasped in spite of herself.
"Cut it out!" she cried. "Why would I destroy my own wedding
gown?"
"Part of you doesn't want to marry Vic. You're in too deep,
can't admit it to the world." He felt under her blanket, cupped a
rich, naked breast, feeling the nipple respond at once, coming up
hard against his palm.
"Non-nonsense!" she cried softly. "Don't do that. I don't
want sex. I hate all men!"
He desisted but his hard-on persisted. After a moment, he
sneaked a hand under the blanket, this time to cup her pelvis and
touch her cunt, sexy in those almost-dry panties. For a second
she opened her legs with a groan of desire, but then closed them
and shoved his hand away.
"No, Phil, I won't be seduced."
He thought she would. He thought she needed the relaxation
of sex, then sleep on the night before the big race. He felt a
rising excitement. Here, at last, he was getting some of his own
back, after dismal months.
The tent flap opened. Flair came in, wearing only her one-
piece bathing suit. She stared down at them. "I didn't do it,
Maddy."
"Flair!" Phil jumped up.
"No," she said, answering his anxious expression. "The knife
didn't go in very far, Maddy. Not that it feels too great, but it
only needed a small bandage. Daddy's madder than hell, though.
He wants to kick us both out of the race for unsportsman-like
conduct; torn dresses and flashing knives."
"He can't do that!" flashed Phil.
"He needs the excuse," said Flair. "There's been too much
talk about a rigged race in favor of his daughter or his fiance.
Have you fucked yet?"
"What?!!" said Phil.
"Of all the nerve-" Maddy began.
But Flair reached into Phil's shorts and found his rock-hard
cock which she brought out with a murmur. "Just getting ready, I
see."
And while both Phil and Maddy stared in horror, Flair bent
her head and sucked Phil's stiff manhood into her mouth. Phil
gave an immediate groan of pleasure. He'd been sexed up for quite
a while.
"Flair! What are you doing!" cried Maddy as she suddenly sat
up so that the blanket fell back and her naked breasts shone in
the golden light. "You tore up my dress, now you come here and
pull this vulgar . . . ."
"I didn't tear it. Texas Bunny tore it. She's always been
mad at you for grabbing Dad," said Flair between sucks. "Anyway,
I need Phil's prong. I need sex so I can relax and sleep, in case
Daddy reinstates us tomorrow."
"Don't do that in front of me!" cried Maddy, jumping up.
"How dare you do that! Phil, stop her."
"She n-n-needs sex to reduce tension!" sang the happy Phil as
Flair sucked deliciously on his shaft. "So do y-you, as I was
trying to tell you a minute ago!"
"You beasts!" cried Maddy.
"Come on, Maddy," said Flair. "You've been fucking the heels
off my father for weeks - on the yacht, the train, in hotels. You
know what sex is all about, so why resent me and Phil having a
little?"
With a cry of despair, Maddy grabbed her blanket and fled the
tent.
She was gone exactly twenty seconds, not quite long enough
for Phil to enjoy a couple of hot, open-mouthed kisses, feel up
Flair's gorgeous-breasts and mount her saddle.
"Phil, are you going to f-f-fuck that odious girl!" cried
Maddy.
Phil stopped. "She says she needs the relaxation and relief
from tension. "You don't."
"So do I," said Maddy. She stripped off her panties and
stretched out next to Flair. "And you're my trainer, not hers!"
That was the beginning of the best sex Phil ever had, in that
modest tent under the golden light of the kerosene lamp. Never
again would he smell that kerosene smell again without remembering
those two luscious, naked girls, both voluptuous, both exquisitely
built, both equally hot, both yearning for the plunge of his rock-
hard cock. In size, weight and richness, in their supple bodies
and large, firm breasts, they could've been sisters.
There was really no choice to make. Phil had hungered for
his randy Maddy for too long. Quickly he mounted her hips and
violated her wet, swollen cunt with his eager cock, crying out in
delight as he targeted home in the hot, waxy tightness of her
cunt.
"Oh, Maddy!"
"Oh, Phil!"
"Fuck, fuck, fuck," said the third voice. It was Flair, who
far from being angry, seemed delighted to witness two other human
beings in hot sex, a new thrill for her. She used her fingers
between her legs to good effect as Phil and Maddy grunted and
groaned, rocked and keened, sucked and caressed, as if they had to
destroy each other's blazing, sex-hungry beings.
But Flair had no intention of missing out on the action. She
noted as Phil hugged his sex partner his head extended past the
head of the girl getting cock-reamed. She sat behind Maddy's head
and opened her legs.
"As long as you're not doing anything much at this end, how
about a little tongue?" she begged.
Phil gave a cry of delight and began to suck on Flair's cunt
while he drummed his blade into Maddy's writhing belly. Maddy
protested but there was nothing she could do, pinned down by
Phil's weight and driven to glory by his big, thrusting prick.
Maddy had been used to sex with Vic and while Vic was all right in
sex, he didn't have Phil's body, Phil's prick girth, or Phil's
youth. In no time at all she completely forgot about Flair as she
went dizzy with the sizzling friction of crazed prick deep in her
cunt. She humped and panted and cooed like a silly girl on her
first wild sex trip.
Flair could hear the meaty sound of male cock digging into
female sheath, she could see the stretched-out Maddy, alive with
friction madness, shaking to her fabulous drilling . . . and she
could enjoy Phil's hot, sucking mouth and tongue on her box. The
stimulation of watching two adult bodies fuck while having her own
parts taken soon lifted her to heights of glory. "Oh, my heavens,
it's ta-tooo much!" she cried.
Phil had the best of it. With his long-neglected prick
flexing happily in his Maddy's belly, he could bury his mouth in
the rich wetness of Flair's pink cunt, find her clit and drill two
women at once. Never had male pride risen higher than to feel the
sweet distress of the two females as they writhed and grunted,
pleasure-wracked and helpless under his double assault. He
thrilled over and over, driving, driving, driving, lost to the
world, living in the high exultation of mastering two gorgeous
females at once. He went on and on.
It was Flair who gave up her sex treasure first. The
lascivious orgy was just too much for her inexperienced soul. She
felt the ineffable, sweet culmination rush at her. Her eyes went
big, her mouth fell open, she grabbed Phil's head, froze and
delivered her cunt throbs with rich cries of "Oh, oh, oh, I'm
fuckedddd!"
Legs wrapped around Phil's back, cunt driven to ecstasy of
feeling, Maddy heard Flair's desperate cries of joy and succumbed
to Phil's ravaging prick.
"I have - to - oh, God, I have to goooo!" she sang.
Throb, throb, throb. She locked on Phil, went paralyzed and
opened her belly in female submission, her cunt squeezing
powerfully on Phil's shaft as she lost her womanhood to the white-
hot blaze in her cunt. "Ahhh!"
It was the double orgasms, the feel of two hot, helpless
cunts expiring one after the other that raised Phil to the peak of
his own lust passion. With Flair done and panting in relief, with
Maddy finished, he cried out his sex warrior's triumph.
"You're both fuckeddd! and I'm gone!"
His body tensed in an incredible locking of muscle, nerve and
gland. There was a glorious, unforgettable paralysis of bliss
before the deluge. Then his cock let go to explode inside the
cunt of the girl he'd always wanted so badly. Spurt, spurt,
spurt. Giving animal grunts he seeded her with massive relief and
exulting shots of jism. "Yeee," he cried as he spent and spent in
total fulfillment of his sexual power. As he spurted in glory,
Maddy throbbed some more and he floated away into sublime spheres
of ultimate consummation, realizing his manhood in mind, body and
soul.
When Phil woke up the next morning the girls were gone. So,
he discovered, when he emerged from the tent, were all the
contestants! The beach was bare of everything but tourists.
"Oh, they moved the start of the race up to the Isthmus," a
man told him. "Old Singleton knows it's only eighteen miles
across at that point, so everybody has a better chance."
Phil arrived at the Isthmus boat-hitchiking, minutes before
the start of the race. The scene was chaos with the final hundred
or so swimmers standing just short of the water, waiting for the
starting gun. Spectators on shore and on boats leaned forward
anxiously.
The starting gun sounded and a hundred or so eager
marathoners dived, ran, splashed or walked into the water. Among
the number were some world-famous, highly trained swimmers. These
few immediately stroked ahead of the field and disappeared. Even
as the roar from the crowd and the blasting boat horns began to
fade it was easy to see that the vast horde were only there for
the fun. The sun was out, but the water close to shore was fifty-
five degrees and only sixty-four in the middle of the San Pedro
channel.
There were plenty of volunteer boats to pace the swimmers as
well as the boats of the judges. Vic didn't want anybody to drown
in his extravaganza.
Phil found Vic at the starter's booth.
"What about the girls?" he asked.
"I'm letting 'em swim, but they have a handicap. They have
to wait for an hour after the start to go in the water."
That was fatal. With strong male champions out there, the
girls could never catch up.
"You prick!" said Phil.
Vic put his head close to Phil. "No, you're the prick! You
fucked my girl last night. I'm through with you, always screwing
my women. You're fired, Griffin!"
Later Phil paced Maddy in the water, ready with hot broth and
encouragement as he followed in a boat. He didn't blame her for
trying. To train and then not to swim would be too much. She
gave up after four hours, because the leaders were too far ahead
and her heart wasn't in it.
A while later they saw Flair picked up by her handler's boat.
She waved to them, they waved back. Phil, saw the look on Maddy's
face and understood then that she felt guilty about knifing Flair
and ending Flair's chances. Maddy wouldn't have swum her best
anyway.
Phil asked her about the situation with Vic after last night.
She said she didn't know. Vic still wanted her; she wasn't
sure.
She wanted to take a month and think it over.
"I'll visit my folks in San Diego. I want to get away from
everybody, Phil, including you."
Phil was suddenly sick of the whole thing, and of Vic, Flair,
Texas, George and even Maddy. He was angry that Vic had shortened
the swim. In sum he'd wasted better than two years and gummed
himself up with too much sex at the wrong time as usual. What he
needed most of all was a new career start. Once he reached land
he was through with this crowd. Even if Vic hadn't fired him,
he'd have quit.
The winner of the race was a penniless Canadian teenager,
George Young, who confounded everyone by beating several world
champions. He collected the twenty-five thousand, lots of
publicity, and some stage appearances, the hero of the hour. A
poor, widow mother back home added to the magnificence of his
triumph. His time was fifteen hours and forty-five minutes, a
beautiful swim for the record books.
Chapter 8
New York, the Hippodrome Theatre, 1935. Billy rose, the pint-
sized showman with the personality, energy and charm of a six
footer, was in a pet.
"We got to open Jumbo in two weeks!" he cried to his staff.
"Now you tell me my best comic diver has a sprained back and can't
work for a month! So what do we put in that big tank under the
stage?"
"We're trying to get a replacement, Mr. Rose," an assistant
placated him.
"Wait a minute," said Rose. "That sleazy guy who got me the
Austin Sisters. What was his name? George, yes, George Panther.
Find him. I remember he mumbled about some mug he knew who was
doing a water show over at the college in Princeton. Find Panther
for me."
While a member of the staff hastened to the card file, Billy
Rose ruminated aloud. "Funny thing about Broadway. A spiffy guy
in a high hat and spats sells me an act and it turns out to be a
mangy dog show. On the other hand a guy who looks like he slides
around corners and steals leavings at the Automat hands me an act
that sings with class. Who can figure it?"
The staff remembered the cheap-looking agent who camped on
Billy's tail with trying to promote a singing trio, the Austin
Sisters. When Billy finally gave the guy a tumble and saw the act,
it was classy enough to win a big spot in Jumbo. Everybody loved
the Austin Sisters and so would the audience.
"Oh, yeah," said George when Billy got him on the phone. "I
know this guy, he puts on water shows at colleges across the
country. Raises money for swim sports. He's a real pro. Better
in the water than on dry land."
"But can he dive forty feet into that tank on the stage of
the Hippodrome and make it look funny?"
"If the price is right," said George, "he can scare 'em white
and then make 'em red-faced with laughter."
"Get him," ordered Rose. "What's his name?"
"Phil Griffin."
"We'll look at him this afternoon at three," said Billy and
hung up.
George hadn't seen Phil for eight years. He got a letter
once in a while and cards at Christmas, but that was about it.
When Phil came to his hotel room, George was glad to note that he
looked as sleek and young as ever, though he was in his mid-
thirties. He told Phil about Billy Rose, after they'd exchanged
the shy greetings that were inevitable after a large gap in time.
"This Billy Rose is some kind of a genius," said George.
"Started out as a hot shot shorthand and typing whiz, giving
demonstrations for the companies. Set world records that way.
During the war he was secretary to Bernard Baruch and other big
shots in Washington, and then in the twenties he became a tin pan
alley songwriter. He ran up a couple of big hits and went into
the night club business."
"Oh, yes," said Phil, settling down with the bottle of beer
George had offered. It still seemed strange to be able to drink
right out in the open. "Isn't he the guy that's married to Fanny
Brice, the comedienne?"
"Right, only don't push that at him. It burns him up that
people call him Mr. Fanny Brice. So he's decided to make a big
splash on Broadway at the Hippodrome with this show Jumbo. Make
his name. It's got everything. A book by Hecht and MacArthur,
songs by Rodgers and Hart, Paul Whiteman's orchestra, and
everything class. Jock Whitney and his sisters are bankrolling
it. It's a combination musical comedy and circus, with elephants
and Jimmy Durante as star."
Phil looked around George's cheap room and wondered whether
even after eight years he could trust George Panther again. He'd
never forget Atlantic City and Catalina.
"Sounds pretty big."
"It's fantastic, Phil! His idea is that he's got the big
three ingredients that pull people into the theatre; love, comedy,
and death. Death-defying circus stunts, you know. For the comedy
they've got clowns and stuff but for the big tank onstage he wants
a comic diving act. Listen, I can get you two hundred a week if
you'll let me be your agent. Rose wants to beat the "Mr. Brice"
tag, so he pays big."
Phil sighed. The whole thing sounded unrealistic. But he'd
finished his stint at Princeton and made the trip all the way
over. Two hundred a week in these depression times sounded
incredible, though.
"Maybe I could audition," Phil said. "Are you sure about the
money?"
"Whitney's loaded," said George. "Come on. We're meeting
Rose at three."
Just like that . . . after eight years. A phone call, a trip
across the river, and here he was mixed up with George Panther
once again.
Phil stood on the stage of the Hippodrome, looked at the tank
that was revealed when the stage floor was retracted, looked up at
the ladder and platform forty feet above. George sat nervously on
the stage apron.
Billy Rose, his directors and some assistants sat out in the
audience.
"Give us two or three jumps, if you will," Billy cried.
To everyone's astonishment, Phil removed his clothes. But as
always he had a bathing suit on instead of shorts. He hadn't
changed that habit in years. Then he bounced up the ladder, did a
very quick half gainer, making it sloppy to look funny. Once
again he felt the thrill of the leap and the rush of wind past his
ears as he plummeted down. But he'd done this sort of thing so
long that his body responded automatically. He emerged and did
two more jumps without a pause.
The group in the audience applauded.
"We'll hire you, Mr. Griffin," said Rose. "You're very good."
One of his assistants murmured that the diver wanted the
fierce sum of two hundred a week.
Billy Rose grinned. "You couldn't get me to do those jumps
for a thousand a week. Hire him. He's a class act."
Phil met the Austin Sisters at the rehearsal next day. They
were gorgeous looking in long, white clinging gowns and they sang
in beautiful harmony. Afterwards George took Phil over to them,
and Phil noticed as they approached that there was a platinum
blonde, a golden blonde and a brunette.
"My God!" he cried. "Texas . . . Maddy . . . Flair!"
The three women were as startled as Phil. Although Texas was
past thirty-five she looked as slim and sexy as ever. Maddy and
Flair in their late twenties were at the peak of their beauty.
"Phil . . . Oh, Phil . . . Hi, Phil . . . ."
The three were as shy as he was. Long years had passed since
they had last met. In the confusion and bustle of the rehearsal
there was no time to talk but there were murmurs about getting
together later.
However, it was George alone who brought Phil up to date
later in Phil's hotel room. Phil had taken a place in the same
hotel because it was inexpensive and there was no reason to waste
money on luxurious quarters. This way he could save a lot from
his salary. George told Phil that the girls worked well together,
that they were his best act and got a lot of appearances on radio
and with big bands. They even had some records out that sold
well. No, Maddy had never married Vic. Vic Singleton owned some
radio stations out West, and the Austin Sisters always had free
time on the air when they were out there. Vic had never married
either. Then he wanted to know about Phil.
Phil's story was simple. Water shows had been popular ever
since Cleopatra floated down the Nile with nothing on her luscious
body but an asp clasped to her wrist. Phil moved across the
country to various colleges and universities putting on shows with
the local students to raise money, sometimes for sports programs,
sometimes for the schools themselves. He had a small company and
didn't make much money, but it kept him active in the water world
that he liked. He too had never married.
"And I take it easy on sex, George. I don't get myself in
tangles the way I used to."
"Wish I could get into tangles. My three beautiful broads
drive me crazy, but they won't put out."
Phil found that the old ache was there, the desire for Maddy,
and, to his surprise for the bold Flair, almost as strongly. But
when he approached Maddy for dates, she turned him down.
"We could've been great, Phil. But you're too wild, like the
time in the tent with Flair. You'll bed any woman when your lust
is up."
Nor could he get anything going with Flair. She said she'd
given up "the wild ways of her youth" as if she were somehow old
and gray!
Still, just being in Jumbo was lots of fun. The show opened
with fanfares and Paul Whiteman appeared on a white stallion
followed by his band, resplendent in blue and gold uniforms, music
crashing. Then came a fantastic circus parade, complete with
clowns, wild animals and the title figure of the show, the
elephant Jumbo, with the human star, Jimmy Durante.
A cannon boomed. A young girl shot from its mouth. There
was no net to catch her. As the audience gasped, her partner,
from the sidelines, jumped forward to make the catch and save her
life. A woman performer slid from the top balcony three hundred
feet to the stage on a taut wire, hanging by her teeth. Another
daredevil group did aerial stunts on a tiny plane that zipped
around a recessed dome, high up.
In another set, a high wire artist did somersaults on a wire,
as the spotlight gradually revealed that he worked above a cageful
of snarling jungle cats. At the end he swung down into the cage .
. . then ran to a safety door among the animals while the crowd
screamed.
Besides the thrills there was music, including the Austin
Sisters, comedy, including Phil's act and spectacles with Rose's
specialty, fabulous showgirls. In a wedding scene forty beauties
in white satin rode forty white horses, also arrayed in white.
They were escorted by forty muscular boys in black tights riding
black horses. A "bride and groom" descended from the ceiling
amidst fluttering petals and surrounded by white doves.
Phil found that it was almost as much fun to watch the
audience's reactions to the thrills, comedy and beauty spectacles
as it was to be in the show.
The show opened, the crowds came, the cast settled down, and
Phil judged that Billy Rose would no longer be thought of as "Mr.
Fanny Brice."
After midnight is the true evening for show business people.
The excitement of the performance must be overcome before sleep
can be enticed. One post-midnight evening Phil sat in his room
planning new water show engagements after Jumbo was finished.
There was a shy knock on his door.
He opened it to find Texas Bunny Long before him. She was
alone except for a bottle of champagne she carried in her arms.
"Oh, Texas." He admitted her.
"I hope you don't mind, Phil. I have a career decision to
make and I need somebody with an objective mind to talk to."
He felt immediate excitement. Her face had a serious,
businesslike look, but her dress suggested other things. A tight-
fitting black rayon outfit clung to her body. And the champagne
in her arms hinted at perhaps some pleasure.
His lust rose at once. Whenever he saw Texas his cock
thickened as he imagined fucking that loose flesh, soft and silky,
off her bones. As they set the champagne in ice he caught a flash
of her rounded, sexy ass and wondered if she still . . . .
"I have offers to leave the act and go single as a singer
with a band," she said. She went on to explain that she was a
better singer than either Flair or Maddy and she felt she'd
devoted enough time to the sister act.
She explained that the "Austin Sisters" took their name from
the Texas city, but she was ready to go back to being Texas Bunny
once more.
Phil had already made his decision. He seized her and hugged
her, digging his hands into the yielding flesh of her remarkable
rear. He kissed her and felt his prick thick and hard against
their bellies.
"Why don't we . . . have some fun . . . relax . . . before we
talk about careers," he breathed in her pink ear.
Her loins thrust against his, undulating, thrilling his stiff
cock. The soft brown eyes were hungry. "A good idea," she
whispered in her gentle voice. In seconds his tongue was halfway
down her throat reveling in the sweet honey hotness and he kneaded
those glorious buttocks as he jacked off between their bellies.
There was a knock on the door. They broke apart, gasping.
"Flair, maybe Maddy," she cried softly. "Don't want 'em to
catch me here."
Before he could react, she'd grabbed her champagne bottle and
dashed into his closet.
It was not Flair or Maddy at his door. It was George Panther
with a champagne bottle in his arms and a sad look on his face.
"Phil, I've got to talk to you. Serious problems. I
happened to have this bottle. Can we talk?"
Phil was about to cut him off, but George really looked sad,
and didn't even notice the tent in Phil's pants, his sex blush nor
the ice bucket for Bunny's champagne. Besides, Phil had all
night. Nonchalantly he tossed George's bottle into the bucket,
sprawled on his bed and said, "Okay, shoot."
George complained that he feared the Austin Sisters were
going to break up after Jumbo. Maddy and Flair were mad at Texas
Bunny. She never tried new things. They thought they could be
better off as a duo.
Delighted to know that Texas heard all this from his closet,
Phil pointed out that George might double his income as agent for
Texas as a single and the two girls as a team. George gloomed that
more likely they'd all drop him for new agents.
"They're gonna desert me!" cried George. "Here I've built 'em
big and never even got any sex from them, except once a little
bit. They hate me."
It was a night when Phil felt high and reckless. He
suggested that maybe George just never found out what kind of sex
the girls liked. What did George think of Texas Bunny?
"That one I'd like to diddle most of all!" cried George.
"She has the sexiest ass that ever walked down Broadway."
"So why don't you suggest anal intercourse."
"Cornholing?" George's eyes got big. "She'd kill me! How
could I suggest such a perverted thing to a classy girl like
that?"
He went on rhapsodizing about Texas, her charms and her sexy
rear. Delighted, Phil kept his eye on the closet where the door
was ajar. Slowly, slowly it opened wider and wider as George
talked. Finally Texas stepped out into the room, holding her
bottle of champagne. Otherwise she was totally naked.
"Well, now," she said in her soft voice, "maybe you haven't
asked the right questions, George, as Phil suggested."
George froze in horror. Phil laughed and said that maybe it
was time for them to put the two champagne bottles together.
It was, thought Phil, going to be very tricky but also very
rewarding. When he and George had stripped, Phil got on his back
on the bed. At his direction, Bunny mounted his hips. He spread
his legs really wide and offered his stiff jong to the girl.
Tongue curling, eyes glowing the brown-eyed blonde slowly impaled
herself on his blade, both of them gasping as he violated her wet,
ready cunt.
"Now then, George," laughed Phil. "When we get going take
hold of her hips, find her second hole and live a little!"
George was beside himself with excitement, his smaller cock
as hard as Phil's.
"Holy Magruder, this is the banner night in my life!" he
cried.
Phil recalled that he'd been sucked by Texas Bunny, that he'd
buggered her luscious back hole but that he'd never plundered her
pink little cunt. So why not let George have the back seat on
this ride?
"Oh, Phil!" thrilled Bunny, oozing down on his shaft.
"Ah, God, a cunt like a kid's," he mooned, thrusting up to
take her entire vagina. Because of the size of his prick and the
tightness of her small cunt, the friction was delicious. Once
again, he felt that extra pleasure of that flesh, a little loose
on her bones. She was just as sexy as eight years ago. He pumped
for glory.
"Ahhhh, heaven!" cried Bunny, matching his thrust with hers.
They literally flew into a hot fuck.
"Hey, wait for me!" yipped George, trying to control the
leaping loins as they flexed.
They laughed and stopped the action so George could come
aboard. George found plenty of juices in Bunny's crotch to oil
his blade. Then with trembling fingers he parted her rich
buttocks and found her ass pucker a couple of inches above her
cunt, well filled with Phil's cock, already gleaming with musky
cunt oils. The three made some shifts until George had his prick
placed at a good angle for Bunny's asshole. "Now," he muttered
and shoved.
The mingled pain and pleasure made Bunny yowl and tighten her
buttocks as the second prick violated her sphincter and eased
inside of her intestine.
"Bless the Greek gods, I don't think I can stand this!" she
sang happily as her second hole filled. She had trained her
asshole well enough so as to permit rear entry, but she'd never
had a double filling like this. The exquisite pressure on her
cunt was matched with even more fabulous pressure on her tender,
slick gut membranes.
"Uh, uh, uh," she went as George inched his cock deep into
her loin mass. The partition that separated her cunt channel from
her rear was stretched gossamer thin between the invading blades.
Phil fucked, George moved and Bunny screamed, "Don't move! I'll
die! Oh!"
Yet as the men shifted and her sphincter sullenly retracted
she began to feel incredible, hot flames consume her belly and her
ass.
"Ah, oh, I'm so fucked!" she blatted happily. The two pricks
had a seesaw lock on her parts now as both Phil and George began
to move in and out to service her holes. She quivered, sang and
moaned her ecstatic joy. The two men moaned in satisfaction as
they felt the silken, hot and maddening friction and listened to
her gasps and felt her little body jerks as if she feared being
torn open.
"Oh, this is crazy, good, feels divine!" she cried. It was
okay now. She could even move herself, though carefully, and take
cock plunges from both men. "Hooooo," she sang in deep gut
violation pleasure.
Vaguely she was aware of Phil reaming her mouth with his
tongue, sucking off kisses and stroking and setting her nipples on
fire as he fucked her. George licked and caressed her satiny
back, murmuring. But mostly she felt unbelievable, deep fire from
her navel to her knees as the two hungry male cocks devoured her
holes. The sensation was so fabulous that she lost all control of
herself and bucked and rocked at the will of the men, crazed to a
purple glory of front and rear fuck-friction. It was too good to
last long, yet a century of joy.
"Haaaayeeee," she went and felt the fury of her orgasm rush
at her, then screamed and came, cunt throbbing, sphincter
servicing George's prick, cunt locked and squeezing on Phil's.
Throb, throb, throb. She gave up her womanhood in searing yet
furious pleasure. A double fuck like this could just not last
long.
The throbbing sphincter broke George's jism seal. Too long
he'd hungered to shove his prick into Bunny's body. He gave a
happy grunt and spurted leaping seed deep, deep up into Bunny's
ass as she still throbbed in joy.
Phil now felt a double orgasm. There was Bunny's cunt
clipping on his pleasure-crazed shaft and through the membrane he
vaguely felt George's cock pump jism streams into the girl's gut.
Phil's cock had great endurance, but this was just too much.
"Oh, boys and girls!" he cried. Spurt, spurt, spurt. Deep
belly streams of sperm shot up his shaft into Bunny's taken belly
as he spent out his manhood in fantastic relief and singing joy.
There was a knock on the door which they were all too busy to
answer. Then it flung open and Maddy Metcalf entered, champagne
bottle in her hand.
"Phil, I was just thinking . . . ." Then she saw the lewd
display on the bed and screamed and Phil knew he'd ruined things
one more time.
Chapter 9
Billy Rose introduced the first aquacade to the American
public at the Cleveland Fair in 1937. Nothing quite like it had
ever been seen before. The moon, the stars and the sky served as
an overhead setting for his ten thousand seat amphitheatre, with
the waters of Lake Erie as a stage, or part of the stage.
A water curtain of dancing fumes, colored by lights served as
a curtain. When it was turned off the audience saw a long line of
performers clad in white, skin-tight bathing suits, well over a
hundred of them. Slowly they peeled off into the water in
majestic domino fashion.
Early in the show Eleanor Holm appeared in high heels,
wearing a sequined swimming suit and royal cape to match. In
seconds she was in the ice cold water showing her world famous
backstroke, spurred in her efforts as the cast knew, but the
public didn't, by little schools of minnows that sometimes got
stuck in her suit. Not that the beautiful swimmer, later to
become Mrs. Billy Rose, needed extra help in speed swimming. She
was a 1932 Olympic champion. Johnny Weissmuller, an Olympic
swimming champion of earlier years, made the hearts of the women
in the audience beat faster before he went on to a second career
as the film hero, Tarzan.
Serious and comic diving and figure swimming by specialty
acts and a chorus of champion swimmers held the audience
spellbound. Barges manipulated an actual stage more than three
hundred feet wide and about sixty feet deep when it was necessary
to cover the pool for music and dancing. Best of all, the prices
for seats in this spectacular ranged from forty cents to ninety
nine cents. Billy Rose had mastered the technique of serving
brilliant spectacles to the masses at prices they could afford in
depression times. From Jumbo in 1935, he'd gone to the fabulous
Casa Manana show at Ft. Worth in the Texas Centennial Fair in 1936
which won him the Cleveland assignment and opened the door to
still greater triumphs to come. The Cleveland show was both a
milestone and an unforgettable innovation in the history of show
business.
The Austin Sisters barely made the cast by virtue of the fact
they were both beautiful and could swim elegantly. Without Texas
Bunny, their singing was strictly of the show business average
variety.
Phil came in off the road to try out for the big
extravaganza, and looked up both Maddy and Flair. The two young
women gave him the distinct cold shoulder, so he left Cleveland
without even an audition.
After the show, George and the two girls headed for Buffalo
where Flair's father, Vic, had recently bought a radio station.
The West had not agreed with the New Jersey ex-bootlegger. "Not
enough people," he groused. "Not enough audience for a real radio
station." His goal was to buy into the New York market, but so
far Buffalo was as close as he could get. While the girls rested
in Vic's Buffalo home, George went to see his old friend.
"You can forget the Austin Sisters," said Vic. "They ain't
going anywhere. Not without Bunny."
"She hasn't exactly burned up the majors either," said
George. "Neither has Phil Griffin. We're all just treading
water, you ask me."
"Forget Griffin," said Vic. "What those girls need is
marriage, good husbands. Maddy's thirty-two, for Christ's sake,
and Flair's thirty-one."
"They still look like eighteen," said George.
"Still young and hot," nodded Vic. "That's why I told Flair
and Maddy they had to get married while they've still got it. We
need to get married, too. This show business is a killer."
George's eyes gleamed. "What did you have in mind, Vic?"
"Flair for you and Maddy for me," said Vic. "We can pop up to
Niagara Falls and tie the knot, as Winchell says."
"Holy Christ!"
"Listen, we need sexy young wives and those two kids are
spinning their paddles. So let's get the act together. I told
the two of 'em yesterday. We should've done it ten years ago,
like I was going to marry Maddy at Catalina."
George glowed all over. "They'd never hold still for it, but
. . . ."
"Sure they will. A woman gets sick of all the one-night
stands, cheap hotel rooms and loneliness. Not to mention smart
aleck young guys. They need mature men with a few bucks in the
bank. Like you and me."
Maddy came awake feeling a hot mouth covering hers. As she
sleepily kissed back, dreaming it was Phil, a wet tongue snaked
into her mouth. Her nipples were caressed, starting fires, and
she felt warmth, smooth, moist skin.
Then she came awake to find Flair nibbling along her jaw.
Flair was naked and had pulled open the robe Maddy slept in.
"Oh, cut it out, Flair," said Maddy. "We've done that too
often in too many hotel rooms."
"Better than nothing." A pink tongue teased, thrilled her
ear.
"Not much."
She put her hands on the sweet slope of Flair's back and
caressed down the flesh, her fingers pleased by the muscles and
the yielding softness.
She knew she'd get aroused. She and Flair would have each
other. They'd each feel loved and sexual tension would be
relieved. Yet as she dreamily stared at the sunshine coming
through the window she realized this was the first time in a year
they'd slept in a real house. At home, even if it was just Vic
and a couple of servants. As Vic said yesterday when he brought
up marriage, the road was a killer. There were night club patrons
that wanted to toss you for a one-night stand. Besides that there
were only musicians, who had their booze and their reefers and who
were always broke. You died wanting guys. So it was only
natural, even if perverted, to crawl in bed with your best buddy,
even if she were female, and hold somebody who cared and have
somebody who cared hold you. Once in a while, not too often, she
and Flair slipped into pussy love.
Almost absently she bucked her loins as Flair dug fingers
into her cunt and made her hot oils run. Flair's belly kisses
skittered some excitement across her flesh, but really now.
"I've got something new," murmured Flair.
"You've always got something new," said Maddy. "Single
dildoes, double dildoes. Fingers poking rear holes, cunt balls,
feathers, candles."
"This is different."
"Bring me something called "cock" with a real, loving man
attached, Flair."
"You want to marry my father, again?" murmured Flair.
"He's terrific," said Maddy with a rush of deep feeling.
"But I guess you couldn't stand George."
"Sure I could stand George," said Flair. "Why not? He fucked
me once on a train, and it wasn't too bad. He loves me - us.
He'd go crazy being faithful and he has a few bucks, too. Don't
let those sleazy looks fool you."
Maddy could believe Flair. Flair never reacted like other
people. She could probably marry George and be happy. And she?
With Vic? Why not?
"You've still got it for Phil," said Flair.
Maddy frowned. She began to buck her belly real fast. "Do
me! Do me!"
Flair laughed and began to suck her cunt. Maddy lifted up and
groaned in pleasure, going hot and wet. Flair caressed her big
breasts and Maddy got hotter. She was into it now, wanting the
breathtaking surge of orgasm. Then Flair eased up and straddled
her head so she could eat Flair's cunt. As Maddy dug her tongue,
her mouth into the soft, wet chamber she thought of Phil, his
strong body, his big, powerful prick-stick, loaded with liquid
flames. Oh, Phil, Phil, she thought gobbling Flair's clit, making
the big blonde moan. Flair meanwhile kneaded her own breasts with
the swollen nipples and rose to peak.
They were both close to orgasm now. Maddy knew Flair's next
move was to lie back down on Maddy's body while they stroked
pelvises and cunts to glory, hugging.
Flair rose. "Here comes the new thrill," she warned.
"Ready?"
"Whatever it is," said Maddy.
Flair spread her legs, her crotch over Maddy's high breasts.
The stream of piss started slowly and then began to gush, golden
liquid spraying on Maddy's tits, her cleavage.
Flair thrilled to ecstasy to release her urine stream on
Maddy's lovely body. She could see, and hear, the bubbling stuff
strike the silken flesh, spread, body-warm, on Maddy.
"Oh, my God!" Maddy's eyes went big, her whole being frozen
in shock.
"T-told you it was new!" cried Flair.
Squatting she slowly worked down Maddy's body, decorating her
with the streaming girl piss, feeling the thrill of her emptying
bladder, letting everything go against all the wise rules of
mankind. Down over the belly, the abdomen.
"Almost there!" gasped Flair, wild-eyed. The act of pissing
just about made her come. Maddy's body was a blanket of urine now,
golden and shiny. "Ahhhhh!"
The last squirts shot onto Maddy's dark pubic hair and
cascaded down over her oil-wet cunt. Flair was empty. She stared
down at Maddy with hotly gleaming eyes.
At first the body-hot stuff shocked Maddy to stillness. She
felt the sting of the piss, smelled the smell. Suddenly she
wanted the whole humiliating experience, to feel Flair's bladder
completely emptied on her nudity. She gasped as if she'd dived
into a pool. It was the ultimate outrage.
Flair gave a cry of delight, fell on top of Maddy's body and
hugged her, the pee serving as a hot stimulant between their
bodies. Flair's cunt rocked on Maddy's. Maddy surged up, crazed
with the freak sex act for the moment. The girls clung together,
wallowing in Flair's piss, rising in perverted ecstasy to orgasm.
Then they both broke.
"Ahhhhh." Throb, throb, throb, went Flair.
Maddy's cunt expired with ecstatic squeezes as she reveled in
the tight body lock and the unspeakable fluid that sealed them
together. She worked off her spasms crying animal grunts. Then
everything faded into the sweet afterglow of sex.
Then Flair rolled off of her and laid back, her face shocked,
her big luscious body smeared with her own piss.
"Jesus, what have I done?" wailed Flair.
Maddy got up slowly, inevitably. "Ruined your father's
bedclothes and maybe a mattress," she said. "Also you've reached
the limit, Flair. Ended it, once and forever. We won't have sex
again. The next stop would be the nuthouse."
She walked to the door, heading for the bathroom, her body
smeared with urine, her thighs still wet with oil and more of
Flair's piss.
"I'm going to marry your father," she said. "You'll marry
George."
Lying there Flair knew Maddy was right. There was a point
when wildness with sex got dangerous. Her flaunting of taboos was
over.
A week later the two couples were married in a double
ceremony, Flair to George, Maddy to Vic Singleton, thus completing
a courtship that had begun over ten years ago. George was in
seventh heaven; the girls mellow. When Maddy asked Flair who had
torn up her wedding gown at Catalina, Flair confessed that she
had, and everybody laughed. So much for ancient, knife-wielding
passions!
There was no question about where to go for a honeymoon, or
two of them. Niagara Falls was only twenty miles away. The two
couples spent the afternoon ogling the majestic vistas of the two
great falls, the American side with its famous separate Bridal
Veil Falls and the much wider Canadian Horseshoe Falls. The guide
told them the American side was 167 feet high and about 1,000 feet
wide, while the bigger Canadian Horseshoe was 158 feet high and
2600 feet wide. He added that several people had actually gone
over the falls in barrels and survived, while some had not.
"Right now there's another nut planning to go over. He wants
to swim the rapids above, reach his barrel on Goat Island, between
the two falls and then go over. Naturally the authorities will
try to stop him, but if a man wants to commit suicide, it's pretty
hard to prevent it. The guy may make it; he's some professional
swimmer named Phil Griffin."
The two couples looked at each other. "Holy mud!" cried
Maddy. "We ought to stop him!"
"I say let him go," grunted Vic. "At least he won't be
screwing some poor guy's newlywed wife, making sex trouble for a
change."
But they weren't going to be able to evade their old friend.
He was in the dining room that night as they enjoyed a luxurious
wedding feast and he came over to wish the couples well.
"I heard all about it on your radio station," he told Vic.
"Lots of luck in your marriage."
A suspicious Vic grunted his thanks and offered a limp hand.
Maddy thought she saw exquisite pain in the back of Phil's eyes.
They discussed his crazy mission, trying to dissuade him, but he
pointed out that he needed the publicity to get his water shows
started again. He invited them to see him shove off. He planned
to take off under cover of darkness, reach his barrel on the
island and do this stunt in the morning. He had his own
photographer hidden out, and this way he could evade the
authorities.
Vic declined the invitation to see him off. "We have other
business tonight," he said dryly with a possessive glance at his
bride.
Phil saluted them and was gone, Maddy's eyes following him,
looking worried.
Nine o'clock. The moment of glory for George Panther as he
and the new Mrs. Flair Panther retired to their bedroom. She had
a gorgeous black lace wedding nightie to set off her tanned good
looks. George looked forward to a wild night of sex that would be
the finest hour of his passion life. He was eons away from
Atlantic City and his bit whores of 1926!
But Flair talked to her father on the phone and then excused
herself, giving George a peck on the cheek.
"I've got to talk to Daddy for a moment. I'll be right back.
I won't be gone more than five minutes." And she darted out of
the room with her nightie absently clutched in her hand. George
wasn't sure why that made him nervous.
"She's gone!" Vic exploded when his daughter reached his
room.
"Gone where!"
He flung a note at her. "To save that young bastard's life."
Flair gasped. "We've got to catch them." She ran to the
window and looked out at the wild expanse of trees and river,
hearing the roar of the falls.
"I won't chase her!" said Vic. "I'm the husband. She has to
come to me, want me."
"Daddy."
"No. If that little bitch wants to spend her wedding night
with some young idiot on a boat on the Niagara River, so be it.
I'll settle her later!"
Flair grinned, locked the door and spread out her nightie.
"I thought it was strange that you'd marry Maddy after all
these years and that she'd go along." Flair started to undress
while Vic looked at her with a horrified expression.
"You know who you really wanted to marry, at least sleep
with," she teased him. She was out of her dress, taking off her
bra.
"Flair, stop! I'm your father. What do you mean!"
She went on coolly. "I mean married to young Maddy no one
would suspect you of fooling around elsewhere."
"Flair, I command you?"
"And Maddy could never trust Phil as a wage earner. So it
works out perfectly. We each get the lover we want, plus
security." Her slip was gone, her panties came down. There was
only her sleek hose held up by garters and her high heels.
"Scandalous girl!" he cried. "I forbid this!"
"You want it!" she whispered, coming to him. "I want it.
You always have, I have always." She took out his cock which was
stiff as a board from watching his sexy daughter undress.
He moaned as she began to jack him off with warm hands.
"We can't . . . do this," he muttered. "Incest!"
"Say it and get it over with," she laughed, thrilling to the
movement of soft flesh over hard love muscle. His cock throbbed
in joy.
Vic was beside himself. A thousand times since Flair had
grown up he'd lusted for her smooth, tanned body, the big,
bountiful breasts, and the hot, wayward little cunt between her
legs. Yet he was shocked to the core to think of sex with his own
daughter. His belly was on fire with pleasure, his blade loaded to
the brim to explode. As he stared at her in horror at this
perverted sex, the excitement, the magnificent outrage, the utter
sexiness of it, he knew he could not hold back. All day long he'd
been unconsciously thinking of hot sex with Maddy. To have it
with Flair was so carnal and vulgar that he could not hold back
the rush of semen."
"Oh, Flair!" he cried.
His cock burst, shooting out high strings of jism through her
fist, while he trembled in ecstasy and relief. Spurt, spurt,
spurt. It was copious and extraordinarily powerful for an older
man's ejaculation. Flair looked down in surprise as he shot off
three gorgeous flings, then she quickly knelt, capped his geyser
and milked the rest of his Daddy-seed out of his prick.
"Mmmmmmm."
"Oh, God!" he moaned in exquisite joy, looking down to see
the daughter-mouth harvest his spuming manhood. He held her head
and gushed it all out with tender gasps, until he was empty. Then
he staggered back.
"There!" he said in triumph. "You see I can't make it with
you."
But Flair only grinned. She licked his spent, warm sperm off
her hand and then turned to her sexy, see-through nightie.
"That was only your last defense," she said. "Premature
coming. But we have all night to do it right. Come to bed."
The nightie, black and enticing over her smooth, young flesh
contained her charms enticingly. If anything she was sexier than
before.
"What . . . what about your husband, George?" he asked.
"There'll be plenty of nights for George," she said. "He's
waited a long time. He's younger than you. He can wait. This is
what I really want on my wedding night!"
It was what he wanted too, Vic knew, though he'd denied it
for years. He got into bed naked, with his daughter in that sexy
nightie. He put the idea of incest from his mind. This was a
young person, a body, he wanted to fuck, fuck, fuck!
Now that Maddy had deserted him, now that he was converted to
the idea, he decided it was best to make the most of it. It was a
little strange to be fucking his own daughter on his wedding
night, but then the whole human race was strange.
At first he used fingers to relieve her of her own tension,
masturbating her until she gurgled, locked her thighs and gave up
gentle throbs of orgasm. Then he began to kiss and play with her
body in that sexy black netting, reveling in the feel of seductive
cloth over warm, satiny flesh. His cock began to get hard but his
jism reservoir was not yet filled.
Slowly, easily he got acquainted with her body, feeling then
kissing those big tits, then peeling back the cloth to gobble the
hard naked nipples in delight.
"Oh, Daddy," she whispered in ecstasy.
He kissed her belly, her cunt, her thighs, He turned her over
and kissed her back, her smooth, rounded buttocks and back thighs.
He placed her back in the first position, took off her nightie and
spread her legs to suck lusciously on her full-flowing cunt.
Flair was so hot she writhed in happy agony.
"Oh, oh, oh. Suck me, take me," she whined.
She couldn't last long. After all those years of wanting and
waiting she was a firestorm of passion. In no time at all she
surged up, froze and paid off her sex treasure to his cunnilingus.
"Ahhhhh. Now!" she yipped and throbbed over her relief and
sweet joy.
Her recovery was quick. Each orgasm only lifted a woman to
higher erotic planes. Now they were ready for the master fuck,
because Vic's cock was fully restored.
First Vic mounted her with his knees under her armpits. He
lifted her head and shoved his stiff cock into her mouth. He
looked down on her beautiful face and saw his jong fuck in and out
of her mouth while, big-eyed and happy, she sucked and licked
gently. Then he moved down to her breasts, his cock gleaming with
her syrup. He laid the reddened, alive blade between her breasts,
made a tunnel of her breast meat and rocked in pleasure.
"Oh, baby, you do have tits."
"Ohhhh, my nipples," she moaned.
The friction was exquisite but Vic rationed that pleasure.
At last he arrived at her cunt, spreading her legs. He fitted the
smooth cockhead to her pink opening. Father stared down at
daughter. She looked back up at him, dazed, lost in her ultimate
heaven, getting the sex she'd wanted so furiously for so long,
making her cling to her maidenhead and then fight both Texas and
Maddy.
"Fuck me," she whispered.
He drove his prick forward with a glad cry. Swollen cock
nestled inside swollen cunt lips, found the encouragement of
sweet, hot body oils, notched her inner passage and violated her.
"Heaven," she moaned.
"Best of my life!" he cried.
Slowly, slowly he fucked her open while she panted and
thrilled, until his prong pressed lightly on her uterus wall.
They were totally locked.
Then, with his daughter fully prick-laden, Vic lowered
himself against her flesh, belly to belly, chest to chest, mouth
to mouth. His tongue snaked out and drove between her lips while
she writhed happily and gasped at this double invasion. Eagerly
they sucked tongues, washed teeth, explored pink tissues.
When her mouth was numb, he moved down to her tits to caress,
gobble and tease those big nipples. Flair thought she would faint
from the hot, flashing pleasure that raced from those sensitive
breasts to her box and back.
"Ah, I can't believe!" she sang.
Then Vic carefully got his arms behind her shoulders and
began a long slow fuck, all action in their locked loins, each
staring in the other's eyes as if reliving all those deprived
years and making up for it in the slow drive and thrilling
friction of prick moving majestically in cunt.
Long, breathless minutes passed filled with sighs, gurgles of
joy and groans of exquisite pleasure. Flair moved her own butt to
keep the friction just below the stage of orgasm. On and on, they
dragged it out, both bodies covered with sweat, bellies sucking
air, hot flesh thrilling to hot flesh.
At last Flair gave a gasp of impossible wounding. "Oh, I
can't last any more. Wooo!"
"Shall I m-make it a rush . . . or let it happen."
Her body ached madly for relief and sang with approaching
orgasmic fury.
"Three . . . three more shoves, Daddy."
He gave her hot belly three more fierce fuck thrusts and they
both went paralyzed in that faint-like joy of immobility as the
nerve net and muscles prepare to explode.
"Now!" he yelled.
"Yesssss!" she screamed, sobbing.
She felt her whole belly, her whole body stiffen. She felt
massive streaks of incredible joy overcome her as her cunt first
tightened on Vic's daddy-prick and then began to flex. Throb,
throb, throb. She spun out in a wild, gossamer web of total
relief and total ecstasy, rocking under Vic, giving up her
womanhood, squeezing the cock to have its juices, fucked to the
limit of her powerful young body.
"Eeeeeee."
Vic gave his own wounded cry of delight. His prick, already
ultra stiff and crazed to complete passion, seemed to lock harder,
and then his wondrous bursts came. Spurt, spurt, spurt. Freely,
openly, vulgarly he seeded his daughter's cunt with huge rushes of
come, gush after gush of manhood in incestuous madness, washing
her womb wall with his sperm, sighing and slobbering in relief and
the supreme glaze of good feeling at a perfect fuck and cock
throw.
Throb, spurt, throb, spurt. On and on the orgasms went until
they were dizzy with relief and joy and half-conscious with erotic
satiation.
"Ohhhhhhh."
"Ahhhhhhh."
They finally expired and dozed happily in each other's arms,
glowing from the peak sex run of their lives.
Alone in his room, George nursed his flask and faced the fact
that his bride wasn't coming tonight. He had a pretty good idea
of where she was and where Maddy was too. As for him, he was
nowhere. He looked down at his flask, no longer necessary in
these post-prohibition times.
"I should line you with rubber and turn you into a cunt," he
told the flask. "At least you never desert me!"
Chapter 10
By 1939 Billy Rose and the New York World's Fair were ready
for each other. America's greatest city wanted a fabulous
exposition. Rose wanted to nail down, once and for all, his
reputation as a great showman. His 1935 Jumbo, his 1936 Ft. Worth
Centennial Casa Manana, and his 1937 Cleveland Aquacade had lifted
his star to the heights. Now he wished to put it in permanent
orbit.
Yet he was not chosen at first to have a part in the New York
Fair. When he learned there was to be a 10,000 seat amphitheatre
to be filled with some sort of show, he knew the logical answer
was a new aquacade, better than Cleveland's. But first he had to
win the job of Director of Entertainment from Grover Whelan, the
Fair's decision-maker. He hustled in his unique way - put on a
Broadway show called Let's Play Fair which not only advertised the
show but flattered Whelan with taste and class. It was a show
that cost him well over $200,000 and it was put on for just one
man, Grover Whelan.
Whelan came, saw the show and was convinced. Billy Rose got
the Fair job, put on a fabulous new Aquacade and filled the
amphitheatre every night. His selection was more than justified
when he produced a million dollars profit from the show, both in
'39 and '40. He was to go on to other triumphs but that year at
the New York Aquacade, with his lovely swimming star, Eleanor
Holm, he reached the pinnacle of his career, and filled his cup
with more happiness when in the Fall of '39 he married Eleanor.
It was a great year and the end of an age in America, because
World War II started in Europe in September.
The New York Aquacade brought together some old friends who
had not been seeing much of each other. Phil Griffin came off the
road to take the job as one of the swim choreographers. He knew
the value of being identified with the world-famous aquacade when
he returned to colleges with his water shows. His business
thrived since he'd gone over Niagara Falls in a well-padded barrel
and survived, such being the value of bravado stunts in his line
of work.
It did cost him two months in the hospital and the attentions
of Maddy Metcalf who tried to dissuade him in a night of
lovemaking before the event. She saw him through his recovery and
then returned to her parents in San Diego, who were ill.
Maddy never consummated her marriage with Vic Singleton, as
that individual seemed disgusted with her for not showing up for a
bedroom bout on their wedding night, although she pointed out to
him that they'd consummated to exhaustion some ten years before.
A divorce followed.
Maddy believed that Flair served Vic as a surrogate wife, and
she was right. But Flair didn't last much longer than six months.
It is a peculiarity of incest that while talking about it is
never-ending, maintaining it is difficult. In the end the mores
of society prevail, guilt enters and incest ends.
Flair joined Maddy a year later to revive the Austin Sisters
and eventually they came to the New York Aquacade as singing
swimmers or swimming singers as in Cleveland.
George left Niagara Falls and Flair, also without enjoying
the fruits of marriage. "Even a worm," he claimed, "has the right
to leave the same old apples in the same old rotten barrel." Just
as he and Vic went through matching marriages, they separately
went through matching divorces. George was convinced that '37 was
not Niagara Fall's best year. Through contacts with some of
Rose's staff he was able to agent some new clients into the '39
Aquacade.
Vic Singleton connected with the Aquacade after a string of
odd circumstances. While he was freezing his way through the
Buffalo winter after Flair and Maddy left, he received a letter in
the mail which contained a deed to a small swim suit factory in
Southern California. Maddy wrote that her father had died,
leaving a business that neither she nor her mother wished to
manage. If Vic would be kind enough to send $200,000 the factory
was his.
Three things appealed to Vic about the deal. First, it was
warm in Southern California, second he was tired of selling non-
tangibles. The booze he used to sell you could put your hands on,
so many bottles with so much liquid content inside. An endurance
promotion was a phantom thing. A swim suit was something you could
put your hands on. If it had a nubile girl inside you'd put your
hands there soon and often. Yes, swim suit manufacture assured
contact with lots of females, mostly undressed. He sent the
money.
There was a little bit more to it than that. He'd heard
whispers, first through his science reporter at the station and
later in the garment trade that the DuPonts had come up with a new
cloth called "nylon", a synthetic fabric they were just putting
into toothbrushes, but would soon feature in hose and other
articles of clothing. Why not swim suits? The cotton, wool and
rubber affairs of the day were heavy, ungainly and stayed water-
logged. And so Singleton Swim Suits were born and Vic was able to
get some of his new items used by the Aquacade swimmers, which
brought him to New York that summer.
Texas Bunny Long showed up in her old single singing role,
but with a tight-fitting cowgirl costume of a short skirt, silken
legs, cowboy boots and the inevitable ten gallon hat. This time
she sang authentic hillbilly songs which were well-received by
Fair visitors from the West. There was nothing like being in a
big, sinful city like New York and hearing the plaintive prairie
wail one knows so well at home.
With the greatest of efforts the old Atlantic City "friends"
managed to avoid each other throughout the run of the Aquacade.
Vic would hurry in and out with his new swimsuits. George would
huddle with his new talent, avoiding Flair, Maddy and Phil.
Flair, Maddy, Texas and Phil had to be around a lot for show
changes and pick-up rehearsals but in a mob of a couple of hundred
swimmers, plus dancers, singers, specialty acts and musicians it
wasn't hard to do.
After the Aquacade closed, Phil gave himself some time off.
He went down to Atlantic City to do a little swimming and sunning
before his first water show assignment which began in the Southern
sun states in October. Atlantic City looked pretty seedy these
days. He felt sad as he wandered the Boardwalk and the Steel Pier
and found the old building where George had had his aquarium girl
show, complete with a tankful of Vic's gin. The building was
empty, desolate, boarded up. Even the signs were gone.
Gone too was the fabulous Houdini who'd done so much for
them. Gone these thirteen years because a couple of months after
he'd come to help them he'd died in New York on Halloween. His
last great show had never fulfilled itself. He was injured in
Canada on that tour when a man struck his stomach with his fist at
Houdini's invitation. Houdini did not have time to tense those
rugged stomach muscles, and his appendix was ruptured. Death
followed shortly.
Did Houdini's ghost wander these streets, and the other
places of the world where he'd put on his great escapes, Phil
wondered. The old order had passed. The new world war would
surely bury an age.
Phil stayed at one of those old boarding houses with its
smell of cooked food, wet clothing and rotting wood. On the
second afternoon as he went to the beach for sun and a swim, he
suddenly ran into a living ghost.
"Well, now, Phil, I thought you'd show up," said George
Panther.
"Ah, George." Phil shook hands. He had no grudge against
the sleaze promoter.
"Vic Singleton expects us aboard the yacht," said George,
waving his hands towards the bay.
Phil looked out to sea and rubbed his eyes in astonishment.
There was Vic's yacht as it had been on that long ago day.
"Vic wants to see me?"
"Yup. He's got some new wild idea. Texas Bunny's over
there, and Maddy and Flair. Vic himself of course. Your hotel
gave us your forwarding address and Vic already figured to come
back to his old stamping ground for a few days."
"I'm leaving town!" cried Phil.
But he was only kidding. He was curious. And on this trip
George's boat had enough gas for them to reach the yacht without
swimming.
"AquaFun," said VIC.
Phil and George found him seated in the big cabin where the
Catalina steak dinner had been held. Lined up behind drinks were
Texas Bunny, Maddy and Flair. There were polite nods.
"What's aquafun?" asked Phil.
"My new water show," said Vic proudly. "Our new water show.
Billy Rose had a trademark on "Aquacade" so we'll use my title.
We'll use your show schedule across the country, featuring my
Singleton swim suits."
"We will?" said Phil.
"That's only the beginning," said Vic. "What goes on in
Atlantic City every year since 1921?"
"The Miss America contest," said Phil. He'd already seen some
of the contestants around town.
"The war may reach us," said Vic. "I hope it doesn't, but it
probably will. Roosevelt can hardly keep us out. We can't affect
that, but wars are grim. People need something soft and beautiful
and glamorous in troubled times. Like a new beauty contest, only
on the West Coast instead of here. Sponsored by Singleton swim
suits and others. We'll build up to it in about a year. And
Texas and the girls can go along on your shows while George gets
us publicity and I get some of my old radio friends to push us
along. It can't miss, huh, Phil?"
Phil sat down gingerly as if he expected his pocket to be
picked and stared at them all. Texas Bunny, who already had a
pretty good reputation as a singer. The beautiful girls, Maddy
and Flair, who could sing and swim. George to line up talent and
boost the shows. Vic to bankroll a much classier line of
productions in the colleges than he'd been able to afford.
Costumes. Musicians. Tabloid versions of the aquacades. Why
not?
Suddenly he grinned.
"I don't hear anything that makes me want to jump overboard,"
he said.
The rest of them cheered, somebody put a drink in his hand
and the ice was broken as everybody babbled happily at once.
But soon a strange silence fell. The moon hung low over the
bay, while a soft ocean lapped at the yacht's hull. Restless
people came together, broke apart. Phil felt aroused. Something
sexual had to happen with this crowd because all three females
excited him and he knew he excited them.
But how? The tension rose. He wandered into the bar to find
the girls seated all in a row, nervously playing with drinks, like
teenagers at a dance, hoping to be asked, dreading it. Vic looked
keyed up. George looked scared. Suddenly Phil could stand it no
more.
"What I suggest," he said, his voice almost a shout, "is that
we turn off all the lights, send the crew below deck, remove our
clothes and play 'Sardine'!"
There was a moment of shock and then the happy, relieved
babble started again. The game was what they needed to get
started.
The game of 'Sardine' is usually played in a large house with
many rooms, halls and other hiding places. One person is chosen
sardine. The lights go out. The sardine hides. The guests search
for him. As each person discovers him, he or she bodily piles on
top of the sardine, trying not to giggle or laugh and give away
the hiding place to those still searching. As more and more
guests find the spot they throw themselves bodily on the pile,
making a people pyramid. The object is to be first, or at least
avoid being last to find the sardine and join him in his sardine
tin. Playing the game nude adds a distinctly erotic flavor.
Phil guessed that the yacht would do nicely and that the game
would only go one round, and he was right on both counts.
Vic sent the crew below, all lights were put out and
everybody stripped, the girls giggling. Phil was selected as
'sardine'. He streaked directly for the deck-level stateroom and
dove on the bed with the big "S" on the spread, the bed where he'd
first screwed Flair so long ago, where he'd seen Vic toss Maddy.
Seconds later the bed filled with nude, squirming bodies,
male and female and seconds after that cocks were pumped hard by
feminine hands, cunts stroked wet by the men. The orgy was on,
the game over.
Phil found himself on top of a warm, voluptuous and squirming
nude female. He had her face down on the bed. Without finding
out who it was in the dark, he forced his cock under her ass,
found her cunt and violated her.
"Ahhh, yes," sang Flair. It was her rounded buttocks, firm
and muscular that he rested on, as he fucked his prick deep into
her belly to make her groan in pleasure at her unsealing and him
to gasp with friction joy.
Fair enough. He had not plugged her delicious belly since
taking her maidenhead so long ago, yet her cunt was sweet and
tight, very hot, very wet on his rocking, oozing blade.
Somebody had gone into action next to Phil. He reached out a
hand to enjoy the luxury of feeling another couple ream each other
while he did his stuff. His hand stroked the soft, shapely thigh
of Texas Bunny, on top of her a man who turned out to be George
Panther. Phil didn't know it, but George had once more or less
plugged his niece, plugged Flair but had only had Texas in the
butt. Now he rode his prick happily up into the belly of Bunny,
humming in pleasure. They ground on each other with furious
intent.
Phil let their rocking bodies inflame his senses while under
him crazed Flair bucked fiercely enough for them both.
"Oh, oh, fuck," sang Flair.
"Ah, lover, love your marvelous prick," keened Texas to
George.
"Hot, loose-boned woman, sexy," gasped George.
"Round-up time," laughed Phil. His shaft received tremendous
surges of joy from Flair's cunt. But what was the use of losing
yourself in your own trip when a whole orgy went on around you.
He reached over and turned on the light. There was a "thump" and
he saw that Vic and Maddy had fallen on the floor, pushed off the
hot exertions of the other two couples. Vic was on top of Maddy,
giving the girl's rich body a fantastic reaming. Vic made up for
what he'd lost at Niagara Falls two years before. The fall from
the bed didn't even disturb them. They kept on plunging, making
happy carnal sounds.
"Eeee, yesss, good!" came from Maddy.
"Hot little bitch," drooled Vic.
It was easy to see that while each couple was self
concentrated on their own hugging, caressing, kissing and fucking
they were highly stimulated by the other hot sex going on around
them. The bed shook as if in an earthquake.
Phil grabbed Flair's big tits from underneath, hugged her
firm body tight and gave her a cock-sprint of furious action,
reveling in the knowledge that with athletic girls you could be a
little rough. He dug his mouth into the sweet flesh of the back
of her neck, making her surge and rock faster under him.
"Uh, uh, uh."
She was getting there in a hurry, thrilling him unbelievably.
He was ready for this. In recent years and all this summer he'd
gotten control of his lust that interfered with his business, had
almost reached a state of celibacy. His neglected cock now made
up for lost time.
"Uh-huh!" yipped Flair. She tensed her buttocks thrillingly
under him, squeezed her legs together and came for him with sturdy
cunt throbs of surrender against his buried shaft after only about
three minutes of wild action.
He fucked her through. Then, cock drenched with her burning
cunt oils he got a bright idea. He slid his blade out of her
cunt, moved up two inches and dug against her asshole.
"What . . . you doing?" she cried in surprise. Then,
"Oweeeee!"
He caught her sphincter by surprise. His lusting shaft broke
her seal and pried open the soft but tough gut muscle and he drove
his prick inside her rectum.
"Phil! Wrong hole!" she cried.
"I want your luscious ass," groaned Phil in exquisite
pleasure. To sink his prong deep in her loin mass between those
firm, rounded hams was a delectable pleasure. Over her squirmings
and protests he oozed his jong deep, deep inside of her.
"Oh, my ass!" she keened. "Oh, I'm ass fucked!"
His cock reached its limit, encased in pink gut, held
fiercely tight all around, saturated with her interior body heat.
He dry-throbbed richly, feeling the quakes of good feeling to his
toes. He began to bugger her asshole, thrilling to the play of
those powerful buttocks on his belly, hugging her close, driving,
driving.
"Ohhhh, Phil!"
"Got to have girl ass," Phil grunted, gathering speed and
rocking in mounting joy.
The others didn't notice, because George was just then
spurting hot seed in the cunt of Texas and Maddy and Vic were
peaking. As Phil drove in his new love chamber he heard the cries,
groans and gasps of the two couples who reveled in cock spurtings
and cunt quakes.
At first Flair was shocked at Phil's bold use of her ass.
She'd not gone much beyond an occasional finger in that private
orifice. A thick cock was much more of a painful stretch for her
sphincter than a slim finger. She felt fierce pain at first and
the unpleasantly full feeling of having her back passage unsealed
and used, threatening her living organs deep inside of her. There
was no womb to stop the progress of a hard, driving prick.
"Ah, God!" she sang in distress.
But those sensitive tissues and nerves adapted very well to
sex stimulation, she found. The agony eased and the slick play of
the hungry cock soon began to send hot sex thrills shooting up her
belly and her body.
"Do it . . . faster!" she begged.
Phil raged to his finish now, lifted in the golden glory of a
tight female hole, sweet friction, hot lust and the excitement of
the lewd, open sex around him.
"Soooooon!" he crooned, rising to peak.
"Fuck . . . fuck my ass!" she responded. Her finger worked on
the clit in her empty cunt, making her squeeze and work her
fabulous hams against him for greater pleasure.
"Now, oh now!" shouted Phil.
He felt the powerful glaze of his coming sex-throw. He gave
an animal grunt of protest at all that tension and good feeling.
Then he burst deep in Flair's ass. Spurt, spurt, spurt.
"Ahhhhh," he sang.
It was the ultimate heaven, the breathtaking paralysis
followed by the crazed spurts of his shaft, powered by the belly
and sex muscles bunched and organized by the nerves in orgasm.
Wham, wham, wham. He drove out rich, virile gushes far into
Flair's ass interior while she squirmed and gasped at the
surprising enema of body hot seed on tender gut.
"Lush-ee-usssss," went Phil, grunting it off until his
crammed sex reservoirs had exploded all his juices into Flair's
body. They hung exhausted after that, because Flair had also
reached orgasm. Sexual aberrations were the delight of her life,
yet somehow she'd missed cornholing and she laid in perfect
contentment under Phil, his cock still firmly planted up her rear,
loins attached to her rounded buttocks, as they glowed in after-
sex euphoria.
"You are a great lover," she panted as her heart rate began
to slow.
"You're worthy of great love," he replied, hugging that
moist, fucked out and voluptuous body.
That was only the beginning of course. After a great deal of
petting, fondling and even discussion of the new AquaFun and the
coming water show expedition where they'd all work together, the
men were hard again. Phil took Maddy, while George had his workout
with Flair and Vic renewed acquaintance with Texas Bunny's cunt.
After that Phil no longer paid much attention. This happened
and that happened. Half-dazed with the sweet lust after a long
vacation he saw the girls play with each other and some good oral
action. He remembered Texas Bunny's great skill at that form of
sex and made sure that he surrendered his cock to the greatest
expert that had ever mouthed his blade.
At some point, the action ran down as they slept like babies,
a nude pile of humanity, to stir, reach out, caress flesh sleepily
and then drift off reassured that the sex goodies were still
there.
Phil came slowly awake after a long, restful sleep. His head
rested on a soft, yet firm pillow. As he blinked his eyes, he
became aware that his body felt terrific, absolutely great after
the night of sex. What a party! He squeezed his pillow to find
that it was a warm and silken naked thigh. For a moment he was
puzzled as to what he found inches from his eyes. Then full
intelligence returned. What he stared at was a graceful cunt,
thatched with glossy black hair. He heard a couple of giggles.
He became aware that his cock, so richly emptied inside three
ripe females in last night's orgy, was hard once more. Impossible!
There could be little juice left inside of him. Yet his prick
thrilled and exulted with pleasure.
When he looked down Maddy's sweetly curved leg he saw why.
At the foot of the bed Texas Bunny and Flair played with his
penis, first one and then the other sucking on his stiff shaft.
"More?" he asked sleepily as lust began to flame in his sex
parts.
"Your cock wants it," murmured Flair.
He lifted his head. He was still on the bed. So were the
three girls, naked. Of Vic and George there was no sign.
"They sneaked out on us," said Texas Bunny.
He put his head back down on Maddy's creamy thigh. She
sighed and stirred. Her cunt brushed his mouth. Feeling the new
lust capture him he opened his mouth and began to eat her cunt,
bringing her fully awake with suction, his tongue and his teeth.
"Oh, Phil!" she whispered. She started to pull back, then
realized the fun wasn't quite over, and pressed her warm, oiling
organ to his mouth, shivering in dawn arousal. Yes, it was almost
dawn.
As her oils flowed, he sucked her avidly, drinking down her
body warm juices, while she gasped and fucked faster and faster on
his face. His sex interest was intense now, because Flair and
Texas Bunny were getting serious with his hard jabber, sucking and
slurping his shaft, giving him teeth that dragged over excited
nerves, hot closed mouths, and warm saliva.
"Uh, uh, uh," he said as he bucked happily. "Don't know . . .
if have anything left."
"If it's there, we'll find it," laughed Flair.
So, he had the complete harem, all three of them at once. As
he grunted his animal lust, felt the rising rushes of good
feeling, he realized that he was no longer hung on on Maddy alone.
He loved them all, he wanted to fuck them all in every available
hole, over and over. They were welded into a unit now, their
lusts matched and there were good times ahead, both in business
and pleasure. All around him was naked and hot female flesh, and
every line and curve, every breast, thigh and leg was elegantly
shaped for visual as well as carnal pleasure.
Maddy closed her milky thighs on his head, bucking in
rapture, so he could no longer hear, nor see, with her belly close
to his eyes. With the other two on his legs, sucking him off he
was buried in nude, hot flesh. It was a strange and thrilling
sensation to lie there so, giving up his cock to whichever mouth
was at work, while he gobbled Maddy's cunt and drove her crazy
with pleasure. Faintly he could hear her gurgles and the other
two laughing and sucking on his prick. It was total immersion in
carnal glory. He wanted it to last forever!
"Mmmmmm," was the only sound he could make, and he was the
only one who heard it but it was the exclamation of total
satisfaction.
He tried to hold Maddy back as well as himself to stretch out
this fantastic dawn sex but his tongue on her hot little clit
maddened her right up to orgasm. Maybe he made it last ten
minutes, the best of his lust life. It was touch and go between
the furious rich delight of his sucked cock and her writhings to
glory. She gave up her cunt slightly before his cock burst. He
felt her deep-gut throbs and whines with utter joy as he took her.
Then she pulled away panting, murmuring, "Never . . . had it . . .
so good!"
He grabbed her lower body, pressed his face into the satin-
warm stomach, stiffened and gave himself up to his fabulous throw.
"Ah . . . wow!" he yipped and then the jism shot off, an
incredible amount after all he'd thrown off last night. Each gush
brought him thrillingly alive as he shot off leaping sperm, first
into Texas Bunny's mouth and then into Flair's as she grabbed his
bursting tube away to drink the rest of his shots.
"Ah, ah, ah," he expired completely, open and milked, glowing
and relieved. Was there anything in the world better than orgasm
in sex?
After that, Texas and Maddy wanted to sleep some more, but he
and Flair were fully awake. She challenged him to a nude swim to
the shore and back.
"I'll let the clean sea wash out my cunt," she laughed.
"You can say the word 'cunt' now!" he laughed.
She looked surprised. "Say it and use it," she smiled. She
leaped to the boat rail and dived over, her naked body an
exquisite form in the air. Then it was his turn as he finally got
to make his dramatic Douglas Fairbanks dive after her, and she
watched in appreciation.
The End
Send Any Comments To ZombieNight@Hotmail.com
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