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o The Bookshelf Directories offer a very wide variety of stories. o
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Procurer (MF, prost)
by Anonymous
***
Chapter 1
If I am different from other men, it is only a matter of
degree. I like sex. Show me the man who doesn't. But how I get
my sex is another thing; and what I do with it is also something
else. I won't con you that I'm an innocent guy when it comes to
getting fucked. I'm willing to do anything to get a lay.
Sometimes I can be damned devious. The main thing is the lay.
Oh, I don't stop at the lay, either. I want something more
than that. It's not just enough to know I've succeeded in lining
up a fuck. I want to go further. I want to make sure that my
mark is hooked on the stuff for good. There's nothing that
pleases me better, for instance, than to know that a girl I've
fucked ends up craving cock the rest of her life. That really
turns me on. It makes everything I do worthwhile.
How did I get this way? Who knows? I only know I just
happen to be this way. Oh, I suppose if I really looked into
myself, I could see where it began. All I know is that I started
out like most guys, just wanting to know all I could about cunt.
After awhile though, I developed like I am now. It takes time-for
all things.
I remember when I first got the idea of preying on somebody.
That's right: preying. I even thought of it that way. I was only
sixteen at the time, but I already knew what I wanted to do.
There was this pissy cunt, fifteen, and her name was Wanda, and
she lived next door to us, and she thought her shit didn't stink.
She was new in the neighborhood and she thought she was better
than everybody else. Well, I decided to make her, just to put her
in her place.
I wasn't a big guy, even then; just average in size and not
too good-looking. Oh, I wore my hair slick, and all that. But I
didn't have much to travel on. Except I had a mean cock, even
then. All my life I've had the kind of cock that stands up and
does its own talking. And I counted on my cock to do a lot of
talking with that cunt.
And she was a beautiful doll, too, let me tell you. A big-
boned blonde, she had real sexy lips and the kind of eyes you call
"smoky" or "bedroom." And knockers? Like nobody's business.
Knockers and hips and ass and legs to stop Mack Trucks. She was a
solid big bitch of the first order.
But she didn't screw. That's the truth. The bitch was
cherry at fifteen, and I wanted to smash that cherry like you
smash the atom. Well, I wasn't alone. A lot of other guys wanted
to make out, too. Her front step was like a bitch dog had peed on
it. All the males in the neighborhood were lined up and hanging
around.
Which didn't make her the most popular girl with the other
broads, believe me. They were jealous as hell of her. They said
she was a cock-teaser of the worst sort, and every one of those
girls wanted to see Wanda lose her cherry. It played right into
my hands when I came up with my scheme.
A cunt named Lily was my lead-in. She was a skinny little
thing that fucked like a mink. But she put on a real clean front
and you wouldn't think butter melted in her twat. Everybody who
didn't know her thought she was a goody-goody girl. So did Wanda.
Ha.
"Wanda really thinks you're the shits," I said to Lily one
night when we met down by the drugstore, me standing alone like I
liked to do even then. I've always been a loner; I like being a
loner. It pays off. "She doesn't know you fuck, does she?"
Lily smiled big. She was a sick fuck, believe me, the kind
that screw like crazy just to get a guy; any guy. She was as ugly
as they come, and that's why probably Wanda didn't think she ever
fucked.
After all, who would want to fuck her? That kind of thing.
And that's what Lily said. "She thinks I'm cherry, believe
it or not," she said. "Ain't that a crock?" And Lily laughed a
real brittle laugh.
"Like she won't have anything to do with cock, huh?"
"I think she's afraid of guys. Personally I think she wants
a big dick more than anything else in the world."
"Every broad does. So do you."
"I get my cock, Ace, don't worry. I get all the cock I
want." Lily got huffy. It hurt her pride to think she needed
dicks. That's why she tried to keep them lined up all the time.
"Okay, Lily," I said, "I'll give you my cock if you do me a
favor."
"I don't need your cock," she gave me back, but I knew she
was humping for it already then. And that's why she added, "But
I'm willing to help you out if you need help."
"That's big of you." I gave her a quick feel when nobody was
passing. It juiced her up. "Here's the bit," I said. "I want to
lay Wanda, and I want you to help me."
"How?" She eyed me narrowly.
"I don't know yet," I said, "But I just know I want to get
into that house when her old lady and man ain't there. Think you
can provide me?"
"She's scared of guys. Or at least she won't let any of them
inside that house. You know that. Even when her parents are
gone, she keeps them out. But I am willing to try for you, Ace.
I'm willing to try."
"That's swell of you. And I'll repay you in kind." And I
gave her another feel when nobody was looking.
A couple of days passed, and I didn't have a fucking plan in
the world. All I knew was I wanted to get into that house. "Rape
the bitch, if necessary," I told myself. "But get into that
house." And I kept bugging that sick fuck Lily to get her ass in
gear and swing things for me. Finally Lily said to me, "Her
parents are going out tonight. I'm sleeping at her place."
"You think you can line me up?"
"Uh-uh. I hinted about you, but she's afraid."
"What'd you say?"
"That you'd like to know her."
"And?"
"No go. She says no guy's good enough for her."
"She honestly said that?"
"She's crazy, but it's the truth."
"So what do I do?"
"Do what you want. I'm just telling you the score. Her
parents are going to be gone to a late party, and we're going to
be sleeping together. More than that I can't tell you."
"So thanks." And I gave her the eye.
How the hell to get to that fucking Wanda? That became the
problem. I thought of all kinds of angles. I thought of just
going up, knocking on her door, and inviting myself into her
house. I thought of asking to use their telephone; any crazy
thing to get inside that house. And I finally came up with the
simplest and most dangerous idea of all: climb into her bedroom.
Oh, it wasn't a hard job, and I'd actually thought about it
before. I mean, after all, she lived in one of those sprawling
ranch-style houses with everything on one floor. But when you're
just sixteen, you're still not too daring. And if you can make a
girl any other way, you prefer it to the final way, I guess.
Nevertheless, that's what I came up with for an idea. I'd
climb the hell in her bedroom window and get at her that way. So
I made plans for the occasion. I cased the joint, and figured the
floor-plan according to some other houses on the street that I was
familiar with. Then I waited till the lights went off that night
and when I figured Wanda and Lily were in bed.
I slipped into their backyard, passed some bushes, and tried
not to make a sound. Gravel on a path shifted under my tread and
I had to step into some shrub beds by the window. But I kept the
sound down, and I could hear their laughter in Wanda's bedroom.
It was the dying kind of laughter, the kind you hear just before
people are going to sleep. That kind.
I waited. Soon it was quiet. There was no talking, no more
laughing; and then only heavy breathing came. I listened closely,
and the breathing became regular. I was sure they were sleeping.
I decided to make the move, and I slipped out a pair of wire-
cutters and went to work on the screen.
After what seemed whole hours, stopping and starting
according to the changes of rhythm in their breathing, I finally
got at the hooks that held the screen to the windowsill, freed the
screen from them and lowered it to the earth. I could see then
directly into the room, and they were sleeping about fifteen feet
away. It was just a matter of a slow climb, and I would be there
beside them.
More time passed, of course, getting into that room without a
sound, and I was amazed at my own ability to control myself and
not get impatient. Ever since then I've considered it a damned
good trait to have developed. I can wait a long time for my prey,
believe me.
So I got inside that room, and I went to the bed, and by the
light of the moon I could see their figures perfectly. They both
wore a pair of baby doll nighties, and because the night was warm
they slept without covers. They were beautiful sights to behold;
especially Wanda.
I looked at that terrific body, perfect in every way. She
lay curled like a picture of a fetus I had seen in a biology book.
Except she was no fetus, believe me. Her legs were fabulous.
Just looking at those wide and smooth thighs turned me on, and I
had a gigantic hard-on. There was nothing I wanted more than to
fuck that broad in that minute.
I even took my dong out. I couldn't stand it any more. I
zipped down my fly and yanked out my cock, and I gave it a couple
of licks with my thumb over its head. The lube pearls came right
away, and I greased them into every crevice. I was ready to stud
her in that minute.
Yet I wanted to make her beg me for it. Crazy, huh? But I
really did. Somehow I wanted to make that cunt crawl. I wanted
to even the score for all the times she had given me the snub. I
wanted to make her crawl for my cock. And that's when I got the
idea to play with her in her sleep.
That's right. I decided not to wake her, but to create a
dream in her head, to give her a hot dream by just playing with
her when she was still asleep. so I went around the bed, right
beside her, and I knelt facing her as she lay in that fetus ball,
and I slipped a hand past her folded arms and got to a breast
without too much trouble. Beautiful breast. Just the touch of it
turned me on even more. I mean to tell you, it was solid and
firm, the kind you love to feel. It was that kind of breast that
every guy wants to feel.
She moved when I touched her. At first it was just a
flinching motion. Then she stretched her arms, brought them away
from her breasts, and gave me an open path. I thought she might
have woke up, and I stopped feeling her for a minute. Finally I
realized that she was asleep, probably starting to dream a new
dream, and I went back to work.
I slipped my hand under her baby doll. The touch of her hot
flesh drove me crazy. I wanted to yank my dong and explode. I
was so hot from just touching her that I wanted to play with
myself and come all over the place. But my desire to fuck her won
out, and I left myself alone and concentrated on her titties.
They were beautiful things, believe me. I gripped them like they
were melons, and fondled them gently. I played all around them
and rubbed my thumbs across their nipples, feeling those miniature
rockets rise like they were coming off their launching pads.
Soon she squirmed. She stretched her legs and inserted a
hand between them, and a crazy small smile started on her lips.
She was in the middle of a hot dream, I could tell. I decided to
do something that was really wild. I pulled my hands away from
her tits and went at her drawers. While she held herself between
her legs, I slowly lowered her drawers. I even raised her ass a
little so I could bring her bottom below her cheeks. She
cooperated in her sleep. Then I gently lifted her hand from
between her legs, pulled down her drawers till her big beautiful
blonde pussy was out in the open, and then I put her hand back
between her legs. Naturally her hand went right to her bare
pussy.
Next I raised her baby doll's top and brought her big tits
into full view and went to work on them again with both my hands.
As I manipulated her titties, she started working her own vag, and
soon she was starting to hump. It was beautiful.
That's when I whispered directly in her ear, "Wanda,
sweetheart, I love you. I love you very much, and I want to make
love to you. Spread your legs, and let me get between them.
Spread your legs, baby. I have something for you." And I started
off the floor to climb on top of her.
But the bitch shook her head. Suddenly she shook her head,
and a crazy look came over her face, like she was afraid of
something. She even said, "No" in her sleep, very low but
frightened.
I decided to play with her awhile longer. I worked her tits
some more, and watched her humping her hand. At the same time, I
whispered in her ear, "You'll love it. Wanda, sweetheart, you'll
love what I'm going to give you. It's all for you, Wanda baby.
It's all for you."
She turned on the smile again, and she was rocking herself
gently. But when I came to the business about spreading, it was
the same thing a second time. She froze and shook her bead and
gave me that "no" business in her sleep again.
It was too much. My dick was throbbing. My groin ached. I
could feel the come starting already from my balls. I couldn't
wait any longer if I tried. There was nothing I could do but fuck
her. I had to fuck her.
So I climbed on top of her. She protested in her sleep. She
even put up a little fight, and she started to cry; all in her
sleep. But all I could see were those terrific thighs and those
fabulous tits, and I just had to get between those legs and go
into that cooz. So I pulled her drawers off her and spread her
legs in a rush, and I dropped my own pants so I could have some
movement of my balls and cock, and I went between her legs and
tried immediately to get into her body.
That was when she woke up. She let out a scream. She
started fighting me, pounding me with her fists, and she was
crying and screaming. It woke skinny Lily up beside her, and I
clapped a hand over Wanda's mouth. She bit a finger and it was my
turn to yell. I shoved my hand back in her mouth and slapped her
face with my other. She cried wildly and tried wrestling her body
from beneath me. And she looked to lily like she was begging for
help.
Then that skinny little bitch beside her said to me, real
excited, "If you promise to fuck me, I'll help you screw her.
Will you promise, Ace? Huh? Will you?"
"Yeah," I said, laughing at her eagerness while I also saw
Wanda's eyes reflect in the moonglow a kind of crazed recognition
of what her friend was doing for her; or not doing for her. And I
told Lily, enjoying the fact that Wanda heard me, "Hold her
tightly, so I can get my big dick in her cunt."
"She's cherry," Lily said, working to hold Wanda, and Wanda
thrashed violently, but increasingly feebly, to be free. "You're
getting yourself a cherry, Ace. Fifteen, and she's still a
cherry." Wanda's eyes, when Lily said that, pleaded with me, and
big tears flooded them.
I laughed as I worked my dick at her cunt. "I knew I'd get
you," I said, with a real edge in my voice. "When I go after a
cunt, I get her every time." The truth was: I had never gone
after a cunt the way I had gone after Wanda. But I knew I'd go
after a helluva lot more cunts from then on.
Her cunt was tight. Oh brother, was it tight! She was
cherry, all right. She was tight, tight, tight. But she was
juicy, all primed from that hot dream, and with a little effort, I
managed to get my big dick slowly but solidly into her. She
whimpered under my hand and she spread her legs wider and a pained
look crossed her face, and she closed her eyes like she couldn't
stand the pain.
"She's lucky," Lily whispered. "She's getting your big cock
for her first fuck. How lucky can a girl get?"
"Shut up," I told Lily, "and hold her tight. I want to ride
this one to a big come."
Lily did what I said, and I worked my long dick in and out of
that fantastically tight twat. It pained me almost as much as it
pained Wanda, but I couldn't stop fucking her if I tried. It was
a case of rhythm. I was moving in and out of her smoothly,
slowly, perfectly. I was giving her the right kind of jazz and
she was taking it, even if she was crying the whole time. Pretty
soon her big ass started humping with me just as it did when she
was in that dream. She couldn't help it, I could see, and she
started giving me the automatic grind and bump. I laughed as I
worked my rod in and out of her cunt in that slow and
excruciatingly exciting rhythm.
Soon we were climbing to the clouds. "Put your arms around
me," I commanded her. "Hold me tight. Show me you love it; hold
me tight." She did what I told her, and I laughed again. Bitch.
She wouldn't snub me anymore, that was for damned sure. And I
gave her a savage twist of my cock that made her whimper again.
Then Lily didn't have to hold her anymore because the bitch
was in full heat. As painful as my cock was in her cunt, she
nevertheless wanted more of it, and pretty soon I didn't even have
to hold her mouth except to stop her from moaning about how good
it felt. Pretty soon she was twisting and turning and behaving
like any other cunt that ever took a good dick. She was shoving
her pussy at me with increasing abandon. It was tough for me to
take without creaming her void.
But I concentrated on the fuck. That is, I tried like hell
not to think of the coming. It's a helluva thing in a fuck, but
while you're excited as all hell from the ride, want to bring off
the big come, get hotter by the second just thinking about that
pussy you're in, all the time you've got to concentrate on
something else in order to forget the fuck. If you don't, you
blow your load right off.
So I concentrated on the rhythm of that fuck, actually trying
to see it objectively, maybe, just thinking about the movement of
my dick. I didn't think about my dick itself, you understand.
No. That would have sent me off like a firecracker. Thinking of
my own dick is just as exciting as considering pussy or seeing
those tits or realizing I'm fucking a broad I really want to stud.
So you've got to go it the round-about way, be mathematical about
the whole thing, concentrate on a bunch of abstract factors and
forget the damned good sensual pleasure of it all.
It's crazy, trying to keep from coming. And yet that's just
about the most beautiful part of it, the business of sending
yourself up those scales, climbing that ladder to the stars, and
then backing away, not falling off the top rung, avoiding the
precipice, standing in awe of the final moment that can drive you
off your poor damned rocker.
But before long, no matter what else you try, sooner or
later, you're back to realizing the broad is pounding you with her
snatch, and you can't escape it. So there she was doing exactly
that, for all she was worth, shoving her pussy at my cock in a
series of wild grinds for all she was worth.
"Now, go baby, go," I said as I started the final drive into
her hot hole. "Go with all your might." And I dicked her
savagely, splaying her cunt with the rock that was my gem, giving
her my massive hard all the way to its hilt. She moaned loudly
from the damned good feeling of it all and cried at the same time
from its pain. And I just kept dicking her.
But inside myself I was having my own crazy feeling. My
spine was a cool track of the hot fire and cold ice moltenly mixed
together and ready to break open my skull. And I had the kind of
unbelievable gut ache that always comes just before the explosion,
when the juices are piling up in creamy boxcars somewhere in the
balls, getting ready for shipment up the shaft and out into the
world, some world, any world. I was ready to pop, all the way.
And I did. In a sudden lashing violent jerk, I spilled
everything in me straight up my rod and to her searing cunt.
Something snapped somewhere in my balls, and the shipments started
going to market, one after the creamy other, thick and juicy,
designed to please. My jism just kept rolling, spilling out of me
without a stop. I plunged and plunged and plunged and sent it all
out of me, every bit of it. What a fantastic fuck.
Then I was done. I came to the end of the ride. My rod was
spent. Everything was out of me that was meant to come out of me,
and I didn't give a shit for anything else in the world. I just
wanted to sleep; I couldn't care less.
Yet I had plenty still planned for that broad. Crazy? But I
did. Somehow I still wanted to hurt her for the fact that she had
snubbed me all the time. I don't know why, but I did. And when
Lily whispered that I should keep my promise and fuck her, Lily,
for the way she had helped me lay Wanda, I told that skinny bitch,
"I'm not fucking you yet. I've got things for you to do first."
And already I was thinking ahead, planning what would come next.
It did, too. After screwing Wanda twice more that night,
giving her plenty of jism every time, bringing her up the scales
and then making her beg for more, I got the hell out of there in
the minute I heard her parents get back from their party. And I
told that bitch Lily to see me the next day if she wanted her own
fuck.
Lily came to see me like the little beggar cunt she was, and
she wanted to know what I had in mind for her to do. I told her,
"I'm not done with that cunt, Wanda, yet. I've got plans for
her."
"You want to screw her again? Is that it? She's hot for you
now. You really convinced her that fucking's good. That's all
she could talk about the rest of the night. Even when her cunt
ached from your fucking, she just wanted to talk about how good it
was. She's really hooked on your cock, Ace."
I laughed. "Okay, here's what I want you to do," I said.
"See some of the other guys. Tell them you know where they can
get some free ass. But don't tell them whose ass. Just tell them
to be down at the football field behind the high school, on the
far side where the tackling dummies are. Then tell Wanda tonight
that I want to see her there. Schedule all events for nine
o'clock. It should be a lot of fun."
Wanda showed up, wanting more of my cock. Meanwhile Lily had
lined up five of the guys. It worked out perfectly. I said to
Wanda when she asked me, real scared, what it was all about,
"Like, they've heard the good news. And they want to see if it's
for real."
"What good news?" she said dumbly, just about shitting her
britches. She was starting to realize what I had in store for
her.
"That you put out," I said. "Good news travels fast. They
want some of your ass, Wanda baby. Are you willing to spread for
them?"
She shook her head and her eyes went big and she was like a
little kid ready to bawl. She looked past me to where they were
lined up talking to Lily and giving Wanda the eye, and she said,
like a beggar, "I just wanted to screw you, Ace. Nobody else.
Just you."
"If you want me, you've got to take them," I said. "We come
in a package." When she begged me not to let them screw her, I
slapped her face. "You're a sick bitch," I said, "and you know
it. Ever since you moved into the neighborhood, you've been too
uppity to drop your drawers for anybody. But last night in your
own bed, I proved that you have a hot cunt like every other bitch.
Already tonight you're begging for more of my cock. All right
baby, I'm going to prove that you can get so hooked on cock that
you'll live and die for it."
"But only yours, Ace," she whimpered. "Only yours."
"No. Any guy's. A cunt's a cunt. They don't give a shit
which guy's cock is in them. They just want cock, pure and
simple."
She begged some more, and I slapped her face. When she
started bawling, I told her to take off her dress. When she
begged me not to make her, I ripped it off her. I grabbed it at
her collar and ripped it down the front. Then I went after her
bra and pants and pulled them off the same way. She screamed but
nobody could hear her except those who didn't want to pay
attention. When she was bare-ass and bawling, I thumped her tits
a couple of times with my fists. "Now, get on your back," I said,
"and spread those juicy thighs, and let the guys stud you."
She did what I told her. She bawled like crazy, but she went
onto her back and spread her legs. Then I turned to the line-up.
"Okay, gang," I said, "go to it. She's yours for all the fucking
you want to give her."
Lily came to me. "Don't you want to screw her?" she
whispered. "Ain't you going to lay her?"
"I had her already," I answered. "I like to take care of my
friends." Dig that. I'm a loner, always have been, was then; and
yet I lined her up for those other guys. Why? I don't know. But
I got a kick out of watching them top her.
One after another they went on her. She bawled the whole
time, but she never stopped spreading her legs. I watched them
put their big dicks into her, and saw them getting hot on top of
her, and everyone went down the line full-steam-ahead until they
had shot their wads up her hole. It was a beautiful sight to see.
And I went over beside her while they were fucking her, and I
looked down and practically spat in her face, and I said, "Like
who's the Miss Big Shit now? For a gal that never fucked before
twenty-four hours ago, you've got a lot of jism up your hole
already. By the way, baby, hold your lovers while they dick you.
They'll really appreciate it. Every gut wants to think he's the
only one." And I went away laughing.
It was a lot of fun.
Chapter 2
Well, that was the first time. And it did something to me.
Don't ask me what, but it did something to me. For instance, the
guys really looked up to me after that. I thought it was crazy,
but they did. They never forgot that I lined them up with that
bitch Wanda. As far as I was concerned, it didn't matter; but
they thought I was terrific for doing it.
See, with me it was something else. I wasn't interested in
being a big guy with them. I wanted to hurt that bitch. That's
all I cared about. I just wanted to hurt her. Nothing else
mattered. But hurting her that way did something to me. It
turned me on somehow, and pretty soon I was wanting more of the
same. It wasn't long before I was looking around for some
duplicate action.
And it was within the next year that I saw another perfect
mark. It happened one night when I was cruising around and I
dropped by a drive-in hamburger place. A cute little carhop
waited on me. She had black hair in a simple flip and big brown
eyes and a real happy smile and a turned-up nose. And talk about
a figure! She wore a tight white blouse and tighter-than-tight
black capris, and the only word you could think of to describe it
was Fuck. Just that: she was the picture of a solid beautiful
fuck. I made up my mind to make it, but definitely.
But for all her pretty smiles and her flirtatious eyes, she
played hard-to-get. I didn't even get her into my car until I had
spent a solid week of long hours at that place buying hamburgers
and malts and tipping her like crazy. And when she finally
consented to go on a date with me on her night off, I wanted more
than ever to put her in her place. I really wanted to sting that
broad, believe me.
So that night we went to a drive-in movie, and I really went
to work on her. I nuzzled her neck and kissed her earlobes and
sent all kinds of little shivers up and down her spine, and it
wasn't long before I had my hand inside her button-down-the-front
sweater and was feeling her boobs through her bra.
"Oh lover," she sighed, "don't do that." And she fell back
against the seat, rested her head like a swan on a rock, and
closed her eyes and let me keep on doing what I wasn't supposed to
do. Pretty soon she spread her legs and slid down in the seat so
that her skirt went up and her stocking tops were in sight and
then her bare flesh above them appeared and finally her panties
could be seen. Just the sight of that turned me on more than ever
even while I was reaching behind her to unsnap her bra.
Then she reached to my cock and played with it through my
trousers. "Take it out," I told her, "and show me how much you
care."
She didn't make a move except with her hand, and deftly she
zipped down my fly and pulled out my rod and began giving it a
working-up and down. I wanted to go through the ceiling, it was
so damned good.
Then she came off the back of the seat and let me pull away
her sweater. She hunched a shoulder and let me draw off her bra,
hunched the other and let me take it off all the way. When that
was done, she leaned back again and let me see those adorable
knockers. I slobbered just to kiss them. Beautiful jugs.
Tremendous orbs. They were like something a great sculptor might
carve; absolutely perfect. No sag; nothing but firm, solid flesh.
And her coronas were wide things, really wide, so big they
practically took up her whole tits. And her nipples came at you
like they were going to pierce your heart. All you ever wanted to
do was suck on those nipples for the rest of your life.
I can assure you, it was tough even to think of going through
with my plan. When that baby played with my balls, all I wanted
to do was think of paradise. And that's why I kept saying to her,
"Show me how much you love me, baby. Show me how much you love
me." Finally I started taking her head and tried to bring her
down on me.
But she had her own thing going. "Take off my pants," she
whispered hotly to my ear, holding my cheeks with both her hot
little paws, and she moaned from the good feeling of it all.
"Take off my pants, please." She lifted her haunches off the seat
so that I could lower her drawers.
I wrapped her skirt around her waist and slid her pants down
very slowly, rolling the soft nylon as I admired that beautiful
flesh appearing. Then her pussy was in sight, and I yanked them
away with a rush, and gazed at that black furry loveliness.
"Kiss it," she said. "Go down and kiss it." And now she
moved my head the way I had moved hers.
But I didn't resist. Don't ask me why, but I didn't put up a
fight. Maybe I was hypnotized by that furry cat. All I know is,
I got down on that floor somehow, cramped myself between the
dashboard and the seat, turned her so that she lay against her
door, spread her legs and locked them around my neck and
shoulders, and went to work with my lips and tongue on her hot
snatch.
"Ooohh, lover," she squealed, "you're the greatest." And she
sent her big pussy against my mouth with a private vengeance. She
wriggled and turned and shoved her pussy hard on my mouth.
I licked her cunt solidly. I sucked her wet hairs and
started her juices. She smelled like a fish and yet I liked that
smell. I probed her twat lips and inserted my tongue between
them, plying her snatch like a vessel plows the sea. I speared
her vagina and licked down the juices of her cunt walls. She held
my head like she would crush my skull, and she moaned and sighed
and wriggled her rump.
My rock was throbbing. Involuntarily I began making small
jabbing movements, unable to control myself, fucking the air. My
gut ached and I knew I would come any minute. Up and down my
spine a series of pulsating chills passed so exquisitely that I
wanted to cry from the good feeling.
Then I couldn't stand it any longer. I didn't give a shit
who saw us from any other car or what was happening on the screen.
I had to screw her. And I climbed up from that floor, forced
myself beyond the locked embrace of her legs around my neck and
shoulders, and flopped into her, sending my dick like a stark
wedge into her hot body. She moaned loudly at my penetration, and
I sent my big dick all the way up her cunt and tried to stuff all
of it inside her.
She threw her legs around my waist and kicked her heels onto
the dashboard, clasped my shoulders with her hands, and bit my
earlobes, one and the other, ferociously as she pounded my cock
with her cunt. I built up a steady rhythm, dug my heels past the
brake pedal against the firewall, and rammed her twat as hard as I
could on the in-stroke. On the out-strokes I pulled away till
only the tip of my cock's massive head was to her cunt lips. Then
I plunged her deeply and sharply, swiftly and solidly, again.
Soon I had her gasping. She began clawing my shirt, ripping it to
shreds, mounting her fury wantonly, unable to control herself in
the least.
Then I went to town on her tits. Doubled up the way she was,
they were practically in front of my mouth anyway. So I began
sucking hell out of them. I licked them and sucked them but good.
I bit them a couple of times and made her want to scream. And the
more I worked her tits, the wilder her cunt got. Pretty soon she
was a series of wild circles, swinging about furiously in an
effort to get all the sex she ever could get.
Finally neither of us could delay ourselves another second
even if we had wanted to, and we were wound up like alarm clocks
ready to snap our coils. And snap our coils we did! In a sudden
flushing rush, everything in us seemed to spill out. Suddenly we
just simply lurched at each other, and the world itself might have
flowed away in our come. It just kept going, going, going.
"Oooh," she cried. "Oooh." And our bodies were locked in the
wildest heat I think I'd ever known.
We pounded each other repeatedly still, but with ever less
intensity, our guts finally spilling themselves away to each
other. And then there came that moment when we didn't have to
shove as much or as hard, and when we could breathe again; and we
took deep breaths and gradually regained our senses. And all the
while we finished our final jabs, those last small thrusts to
release whatever nerves hadn't been released yet.
"Wow," she exclaimed when we were done. "What a fuck." She
shook her head in amazement and sighed deeply. "I never thought
anything ever could be so good. Wow."
"Would you like some more of the same some other time?" I
said, my dick still in her cunt.
"Would I? You bet! I'll never be able to get enough of that
wonderful stuff."
"Sure," I said. "I know what you mean. Okay, I'll see what
I can do for you." And already I was thinking ahead.
We fucked again that night. She had an amazing snatch. She
was able to work her cunt muscles with my dick inside her, and in
no time at all, she had me up for another go-around. I gave her
plenty of juice a second time, and then she licked my cock clean
to show her gratitude for two solid fucks. "I could fuck you some
more," I said, "but I want to save you for a good thing tomorrow
night. Can you get off work?"
"Ace, I'll get off work every night for cock like yours," she
answered. "I don't know why I waited so long to try it out.
Really, I don't."
"Sure," I said. "So tomorrow night we'll have a surprise for
you." And I knew exactly what the surprise would be.
The next night I gathered some of the guys together. "This
one's even better than the last," I told them. "You'll love her.
Meet us down at the log by the bridge in the park. She'll be
ready for you, don't worry."
Dotty, that was the cunt's name, was surprised that we should
be going there. "Sweetheart, I could have taken you home
tonight," she said. "My parents aren't home, and we can still go
there if you want. I mean, a bed is a lot better than a park."
"I've got a surprise for you." I led her from the car and
down a flight of steps between some trees and into the park. In
the grass beyond the trees you could hear the slurping noise of a
good fuck. The park was busy.
At the foot of the stairs we turned onto a path past some
shrubs and other lovers and crossed a field to the bridge. On the
far side of the bridge was the log, and the guys were waiting. I
made sure that there were seven of them this time; lucky seven.
"Hey, what goes?" Dotty said, looking at the guys lined up
and grinning at her in front of that log. She stopped short and I
could see she was afraid. It made me feel good.
"They like your pretty gold capri and bolero outfit," I said.
"They've come to see how it looks when you take it off. Take it
off, Dotty babe. Show them what it looks like when it's not on
you."
She turned to me and stared. "I don't understand," she
blurted, and I could see tears in her eyes. "What do you mean?"
She stuttered to get that question out.
"They want to fuck you," I said coldly. "And I want to see
you get fucked."
She didn't know what to say. She was dumbfounded. Her mouth
fell open and she could only continue staring at me. I laughed,
then slapped her face. "Snap out of it," I said, "and take off
your duds. The guys can't wait forever."
"No," she screamed. "No, I won't!" And suddenly she whirled
and started back to the bridge.
I grabbed her. Her bolero ripped. A bare shoulder was
exposed. "You bitch," I shouted. "You fucked me like crazy last
night. Now tonight you're going to fuck them, do you understand?
Tonight you're going to fuck all seven of them."
She bawled and shoved her hands to her eyes, and trembled.
She shook all over. It was a beautiful sight. "You bitch," I
said. "You want to fuck so badly; now fuck. Fuck seven guys one
after the other and take their jism up your cunt. Take their
cream in your bun and enjoy it. They're waiting for you, you
bitch. Hurry up." And I grabbed her bare shoulder and shook her.
Then one of the guys said, "Why don't we just undress her
ourselves, Ace?" And another said, "Yeah, we could get it over
with real fast and maybe she'd even like it." And they all
laughed.
"Hear that?" I said to her. "They want to undress you. Do
you like that idea? How about letting them undress you?" When
she didn't answer, but only bawled, her hands still to her eyes, I
grabbed that bare shoulder and shook her again. "Answer me, you
bitch," I shouted. "Answer me right now."
When she didn't, I slapped her. I let loose her shoulder and
whacked her with both hands, right and left, smacking her hard
across her face. Her head flopped one way and then the other,
just the way I cracked her. "You bitch," I shouted. "You fucking
lousy bitch." And I smacked her again, left and right.
Then the guys stepped forward. "We'll take her, Ace,"
another of them said. "Don't worry, we'll handle it."
I turned to them. Suddenly I had an idea. "Take out your
cocks," I told them. "Let her see your cocks. I think that'll do
the trick. Take out your cocks and seduce her with the sight of
them." And I laughed at my own words.
They laughed too, and they zipped down their flies and pulled
out their rods. Seven solid rods stared her in the face. "Look
at them, you bitch," I shouted, and pulled her hands away from her
eyes. And when she looked at them for a brief instant before she
closed her eyes tightly, I laughed wildly again. "Pull out your
balls," I told the guys. "Let her see your balls, too."
They pulled out their nuts, and a couple of them went to her
and rubbed their cocks against her capris. She backed away, not
opening her eyes. I forced her to stand still and told all the
guys to rub their dicks against her, one at a time. They did, and
when she screamed and tried to back away again, one of the guys
and I held her tightly and kept her in place while the rest rubbed
their dicks against her.
Then we went to work on her clothing. She screamed, and I
slapped her mouth. When she screamed again, I cracked her head
solidly. And we went to work on her bolero top and blouse and
capris. She wore no bra or pants, and I laughed when I saw that.
"You came prepared, huh honey?" I said. "You really came
prepared." It amused me.
She begged them not to fuck her. When they had all her
clothes off, she finally opened her eyes like she knew what she
was faced with at last, and, bawling, she begged them not to fuck
her. That's exactly what she said. "Please don't fuck me," she
cried, holding her hands together, pleading to them. "Please
don't fuck me. Please don't fuck me." She was like a little kid.
"Get down on your knees," I said, "and beg them the way you
should."
She looked at me and then at them, and when one of them
nodded, she actually did get down on her knees, naked bitch, and
clasped her hands together and looked up to them tearfully and
blubbered beggingly that they wouldn't fuck her.
That's when one of them came at her with his dick. He
grabbed it in his hand and led it right at her face the way a
knight might ready his lance for the joust. And it smacked her
lips straight-on, and actually knocked her off balance; She fell
back on the earth, and the guy went on top of her, straddling her
so that his dick was still at her mouth, and he said, "Baby, if
you blow me, I'll forget about fucking you. How's that sound?"
And he shoved his dick at her lips.
She screamed and tried to roll away, but I stepped in and
kicked her head. She screamed again, but didn't move. She just
fell back on the earth, seemed to relax, and actually opened her
mouth. He straddled her head and sent his dick between her lips.
And she closed her lips around it. What a bitch.
She blew him. When he pulled his dick away, letting it stand
idle at her lips and I commanded that she should suck him off, she
did what I told her. It was as if she was just an automaton to be
ordered around. She made no protest. She didn't open her eyes or
move a muscle save those of her mouth. And she proceeded to
nibble his candle as he held it at her lips.
I got a charge from watching her blow him. It was crazy, but
I did. I liked seeing his dick go in and out of her mouth, and I
liked the way she nibbled on it, too. Maybe that's why I got so
damned hot that I had to move in and fuck her right then. The
other guys didn't like it too much, but I didn't give a shit, and
I told them to get the hell out of the way. Then I spread her
legs.
It was the simplest thing in the world. She didn't fight me
at all. I just parted her legs, and she let them be spread. Then
I climbed between them and inserted my meat to her bun. The guy
was still on her face, and I had to lie at an angle, my own head
just past his ass. But I was in her cunt, and I went to town. As
she nibbled his cock, I fucked her twat. As he speared her mouth,
I plunged to her snatch. She was getting it from both ends, and
the idea really turned me on. Just thinking about it made me want
to cream her right away.
And I did in that very minute when I knew she was taking his
come. I guess I saw his ass cheeks relax just before they
contracted for that grand spasm, and it turned me on all the way.
I rammed my cock hard into her twat and exploded all my juices
solidly up her vag. It was a beautiful fuck, and it almost drove
me out of my mind.
Then I climbed down and turned her over to another at the
same time the guy on her mouth came away and one of his buddies
took his place. So she started taking two guys at once, one in
her cunt and the other in her mouth. She was sucking them off and
letting them fuck her at the same time. And all the while she was
bawling-but doing her job.
One after the other, two at a time, she took them. It was
beautiful to watch. After awhile, I went over to the bridge and
sat against a post, crossed my ankles and stretched my legs,
pulled a cigarette from my shirt pocket and lighted it and enjoyed
the scene. There she was, on the soft earth by the old log, her
clothes in a jumble near her, the guys lined up, waiting their
turns. One would be straddling her face, his cock in her mouth.
The other would be between her legs, his head to one side of the
other guy's ass. And she lay there, her eyes closed, tears on her
cheeks, sucking the guy's dong between small sobs of self-pity.
At the same time, the guy in her cunt would be slapping away,
bringing his meat to a grand finale. It was truly beautiful.
Seven guys took her that way, and I had the feeling when they
were done that she would have taken fourteen or twenty-one or
twenty-eight or thirty-five or any damned number of other guys
just as easily. She was a cunt, and that was all there was to it.
So I made her walk home. After the guys had left, and she
had put on her clothes and limply had gone with me past all the
other fucking couples in that park, I made her walk home. I
laughed in her face when we got to the car and I said, "Dotty
darling, you're not putting your dirty twat in my car."
She looked at me dumbly. She hadn't been able to say a word
since the beginning of her session in that park. She was still
crying. And she looked dumbly at me with tear-stained eyes.
"That's right," I said, laughing in her face. "I don't want
dirty twats on my car seats. So take a bus. Do you have any
money?" When she shook her bead like a little kid answering a
question, I laughed again and said, "Well, earn some. There's a
lot of guys around here that maybe haven't gotten fucked yet for
the night. Maybe they'll toss you some coins. Otherwise, walk
home." And I went around the car and into my side of it and left
her standing there, bawling on the sidewalk.
Bitch. She was nothing but a bitch, anyway.
Chapter 3
When I was eighteen, I took off on a cross-country bum. Oh,
I kept my car, don't worry. But I just went on the bum, not
giving a shit where I stopped, not giving a damn what I did. I
slept in the back seat of the car or the front seat, it didn't
matter, and parked on the road anywhere I felt like, or maybe on a
side street in a town I was passing through. I wanted the
experience, and I didn't give a shit about anything.
And I picked up broads along the way, too. Cunts are
everywhere if you look for them. I found a lot of twats in all-
night truck stops. They'd be hanging around the coffee counters,
waiting by the cashier register, trying to hop a ride with a
truckee. I'd walk up to them and say, "You want to go to the next
town?" And nine times out of ten, they'd take the offer.
One night I picked up a broad about twenty-two years old.
She was a platinum job with a pair of big boobs in a tight striped
sweater and mini-skirt to match. She wore gold heels and no hose,
and she had a pair of legs that made you want to crow. "Sure,"
she said, when I offered her a lift. "Hell, I'll go with
anybody."
That pissed me, because she was putting me down, see? So the
minute I got her in the car and we started on the road I said,
"Like, do you think you're hot shit, baby?"
She looked at me with a crazy little smile. "Like, who's the
Mr. Big?" she said.
I grabbed her wrist and yanked her to me. "I'll show you who
the Mr. Big is." I snapped. "Get down on it, and find out." And
coming up big out of my trousers just the way I had planned it,
because I had opened my zipper on the way to the car, was mighty
John Henry.
She yelled at first when I grabbed her and twisted her wrist,
but all of a sudden she made a little gasp of joy, when she saw
what was waiting for her, and then like the beaver she was she was
down on it in a hurry. She gobbled it fast.
"Give me a good ride, baby," I told her. "Treat it right.
It may like you. Who knows?" And I settled back to drive through
the night, her tongue and lips at my ramrod-straight dick.
She sucked me well. She was an expert cock-sucker,
definitely no beginner, and she did little crazy whirls with her
tongue on my cock's cap, dancing up and down the shaft with a
nimble tread. She had my balls out, too and she played
pleasurably with them, going around their taut surfaces with her
hot lips, nibbling a hair here, a bit of flesh there. And
finally, somehow, she managed to get a finger up my asshole, and
it gave me a tremendous thrill. Then she went back to sucking my
dick again and blew me to a tremendous come.
I shot my juices into her mouth while we were going along the
highway at sixty per. And I damned near lost control of the
wheel, her suck job being so expert. It was all I could do to
hold my foot on the accelerator evenly, too. And actually I
pumped it wildly in the minute I popped. It was just too much.
Then she licked my dick well, lapping dry every crevice of my
cream-dipped cock, making it perfect in every way, and completing
her job by drying it thoroughly on a hanky she pulled from her
purse.
"Baby," I said, when she was done, "you're just too much.
Where'd you learn to handle a dick like that?"
"Baby," she came right back, "I've got news for you. I'm
pro." And she gave me a big smile to go with her words.
"Pro?"
"Like, the kind that takes money for it."
"A whore?"
"I hate to call it that. But if you insist."
It turned my stomach. I wasn't a guy who dug whores, that
was for sure. I must have revealed my feelings because she said
then, "Loverkins, I don't go around advertising it. I just tell
my friends." And she stroked my cheek.
"Do I owe you anything?"
"Would you pay if you did?"
"No."
"That's your answer then. I don't charge if the sucker
doesn't want to pay. I hate having arguments over money."
"You make it sound like a big joke."
"It's no joke. I take money if it's offered. I can stay
away from it, though. The money, that is; not the cock. The cock
I can't stay away from. Anyway, let's talk about you. Where're
you going?"
"I don't know. Where are you going?"
"Is that an invitation?"
"For awhile, maybe."
"Good. Let's make it a twosome." And she went down on my
cock again.
It was a pleasant relationship while it lasted, and I
profited from it accordingly. She knew people in different towns,
I found out, and in one of them she even had an interesting
arrangement; it was something that played right into my hands; or
maybe I played right into its hands.
Anyway, it went this way: There was a guy named Higgie, and
he spoke two languages, English and Spanish, and he knew some
people on the border. That's one part of it. The other part was
that I should enroll in high school, say I wanted to complete my
senior year, and then scout the campus for likely prospects. Are
you putting two and two together?
Sally was a nice little cunt. She was screwed-up. She was
seventeen and wanted adventure and when the new boy in the school
started giving her the eye, she flipped. I was the new boy.
We started seeing each other. She was having home troubles.
"A perfect set-up," Angie, my platinum told me. "She lives with
an aunt, right? A beautiful set-up. The aunt will never miss
her. Oh, she'll get upset for awhile. But I know that kind. The
kid will never be missed. Higgie will pay a small fortune for
that one, or I miss my bet."
"She's a nice kid," I said. "I hate to do it to her."
Angie laughed. "You'll get used to it if you're not already
used to it. Now bring that cunt down to the motel where we're
staying, and let's give her the treatment."
Sally was a sweet girl, that's the truth. She really was an
innocent kid. Oh, she'd been laid before. She admitted that very
early in our so-called courtship. But she was a sweet kid. And
she was a pretty thing, too. Oh, not beautiful, but sort of
crescent-shaped if you know what I mean; one of those girls who is
all soft curves, not outstanding but something nice just the same.
And I'll never forget the way she did her brown hair in an
elaborate high do that night, especially for the occasion.
Of course she didn't know about the occasion when she went
with me to the motel. In fact, she thought I was just dropping by
to pick up some money I'd forgotten to bring along for our date.
And although she hesitated to go in with me to the motel room, I'm
sure she thought it would only take a minute.
But it took a bit longer. Angie was there, propped perfectly
on the bed in a black bikini that accented her ivory flesh, and
she came at us with a happy bounce, posing as my sister, and
exclaiming how very much she had looked forward to meeting Sally.
When Sally expressed surprise that I never had mentioned a sister,
Angie bubbled over with, "Oh, and I'll bet he's never told you
he's leaving for Mexico, either, has he?"
Sally looked at me. I sheepishly nodded according to plan.
She was upset. Angie comforted her according to plan. "There,
there, sweetheart," Angie told her, pulling Sally in for a good
hug, "Men are that way, aren't they? They're so awful." And she
gave Sally an almost unnoticed and highly expert roll of box to
box. It was a beautiful performance.
Then I stepped in according to plan. "I'll take Sally
anywhere," I proclaimed sturdily. "Sally is the one girl I've
ever cared for."
"Oh, little brother," Angie then responded theatrically,
"what do you know about true love?" She mocked me purposefully
with words and smile. Then to Sally, she confided, as woman to
woman, "Men don't know what love involves at all, do they, dear?"
And when Sally didn't know what to say, Angie continued with,
"Sex, for instance. They don't know a thing about sex, do they?
And yet they think they know so much."
Sally didn't know the trend of our little drama, so I moved
the play a bit further, saying, "I'll bet Sally knows a lot more
than you do, sister. I'll bet she knows a lot more."
Then Angie answered, "I didn't say she didn't." And to Sally
she queried, "I wasn't even saying that, was I?" But then before
Sally could answer, Angie came in solidly with, "Like, who knows
fucking better than a woman, right, Sally?" And she bussed
Sally's ear lightly.
"Don't talk that way to Sally," I said, pretending to be
upset. "Sally doesn't like that kind of language."
Angie laughed according to plan. "Oh, that's silly. I'll
bet Sally knows a lot more than you give her credit for, don't
you, Sal? Don't you know what fucking is, and cunt-lapping and
cock-sucking and taking it up your bunghole? What mature young
woman doesn't know those things?" And she clutched Sally even as
I clutched the girl.
Then I said, surprisedly, to Sally, "Is it true? Do you
really know all those things, Sally?"
When Sally hesitated, Angie encouraged her, saying, "Tell him
the truth. Don't deny it. Tell him what every girl knows.
Certainly, Sally knows all about those things. You've been
screwed, haven't you, Sally? You know what it is to lay a boy,
don't you?"
To that I said, "Oh, sure, she does. Sally told me she'd
laid boys. But what you said ..." And I let my sentence fall.
Then Angie told Sally, "Tell him everything. Say it right in
his face. Go ahead. Tell him right now." And she looked
directly to the girl.
Sally hesitated again, blushed, looked back and forth from me
to Angie, and finally said, "Yes." It was uttered very timidly,
and yet, with Angie's quick affectionate clasp and further
encouragement, the girl added, "I do know everything. It's true,
Ace. I know all about lapping cunts and sucking cocks and all
that." She seemed to be forcing herself to say those words,
looking to Angie for moral support, and gradually becoming more
confident when my supposed sister praised her for her frankness.
Finally the girl said, feeling more sure of herself than ever,
"And I like them, too. Honest, I do. I really like them." Again
she looked to Angie for support.
And Angie said, "Sure, you do. Every girl who knows anything
about life likes cocks and cunts. I mean, it's a way to go.
There's something beautiful about a good fuck or suck. And an ass
reaming really can be beautiful if it's done right. There are all
kinds of things that are really terrific, aren't there, Sal?"
Sally nodded. Then it was my turn to pick up a cue, and I
said, "Well, Sal, I sure appreciate your frankness, because I was
worried about how really to say this to you," and I hesitated
again, stringing her along, finally saying, "Because, like, well
see, there's this .... Well, to be perfectly frank," I blurted,
"I'd sure like to stick it to you."
Sally flushed, but Angie laughed merrily; oh so merrily.
"See, Sal?" she said. "Didn't I tell you? He's more excited than
you are. He wants to cream your bun, and he's like a little kid.
But you're mature and sophisticated, Sal. That's why you've got
him where you want him."
Sally swallowed it all, perfectly. She actually behaved then
as if Angie and she really had discussed that matter. And she
suddenly acted so full of confidence with me. She was playing
right into our hands; beautifully.
It was the easiest thing in the world then to get Sally out
of her clothes. I didn't have to work on her. With Angie's
encouragement about how very "mature and sophisticated" Sally was,
the mark stripped, and even actually spread herself on the bed,
looking up at me half-scared and half-arrogant, waiting to be
fucked.
And that's when Angie said happily, "Oh, I want movies of
this. I just couldn't stand to watch this without having motion
pictures of it." And she quickly went to a closet and brought out
a movie camera. When Sally looked dumbly and newly frightened,
Angie fobbed her perfectly with, "Oh, I'll bet you've been done on
films plenty of times, haven't you?" And of course, "mature and
sophisticated" Sally nodded in agreement.
Then Angie was telling Sally, "Suck his cock. That's the
first thing to do. Suck his cock. Guys like to have their dicks
licked. It gets them real excited. They like a good suck better
than almost anything else. Suck his yang, Sal. Go ahead. And
let me catch it on film." Angie went onto her knees beside the
bed and zeroed the camera in for the action as I dropped to the
bed and Sally came onto her own knees to lick my pork.
She was really a lovely girl, and I looked at those big tits,
and saw those tremendous corneas on them, and saw the way her
nipples had started to jut out, and I wanted nothing better than
to cream her world. As she came to me, going down on my meat, I
played with her titties. I worked her nips back and forth between
fingers and thumbs and made her shiver all over. She let out a
little coo and was very excited and nervous. I knew she had never
been in on a scene like that before, and the thought of it turned
me on. I got a massive hard-on that just went straight for her
mouth when she lowered her lips to me. And I sent my pork between
her lips the moment cock and mouth touched.
"Suck it beautifully," Angie urged Sal. "Suck it like it's
never been sucked before. Oh, this is going to make the most
wonderful footage I think I've ever caught on film. Oh, you have
beautiful tits, Sally. Did you know that? They're so round and
big and lovely. They're really grand. I'd just love to suck your
titties. Would you mind, Sally?" And before Sally could answer,
barely looking up from the dick-licking she was starting to give
me, Angie put down her camera and went on Sally's boobs, exactly
according to plan.
It meant pulling Sally off my cock and flopping her back on
the bed. Angie was on her knees beside the bed, and I then moved
Sally's legs apart and started playing with her vag. Sally
responded excitedly, despite her fright, and she surrendered
perfectly to Angie's tit-sucking and my vag-playing. Soon the
mark was squirming to beat all hell.
And that was when Angie said, "Oh, now you've got to do it to
me, sweetheart. Sally baby, you've got me so excited from sucking
your beautiful titties, that I've just got to have you on mine.
I'm creaming my bun, just from the good thought of you biting my
nipples like a baby. Come to mama, lover, and bite mama's
nippies." And Angie pressed her belly against the side of the bed
and shoved out her knockers so that Sally, without coming off the
bed at all, could simply turn and move in on Angie's orbs and
start licking them.
Sally, of course, was hesitant. But Angie drew her closer,
and I had my fingers in the mark's vag and manipulated her to that
point when everything seemed possible and right and good. So the
kid went to Angie's titties and probably for the first time in her
life, she sucked another girl's boobs.
Angie, of course, made it seem like it was the greatest thing
in the world. "Ooooh, you're terrific," she squealed, and
clutched Sally closer. "You're the greatest tit-sucker I've ever
known. How long have you been sucking titties, Sally? I'll bet
you've been doing it all your life, haven't you? You're such an
expert. You know exactly how to curl your tongue around my
nippies. I really love you, precious. I love you terribly much."
It was then time for Angie to pull Sally directly to her, and
grab her mouth with her own. Sally flinched and tried to break
away, but Angie held her tightly, and the two girls locked lips,
as Angie sent her tongue into Sally's mouth. And all the while I
worked Sally's clit, moving fingers over it, bringing it to a
solid swelling. And the broad was sick with excitement.
That was when Higgie showed, also according to plan. There
was a knock on the door, Angie looked at me excitedly, asked who I
thought it might be, and then told me to answer it. "But don't
let anybody in. Just look around the corner of the door and ask
who it is. Just look around the corner of the door, remember.
Only that."
Naturally I let Higgie in. Sally tried to hide, but Angie
suddenly became at ease and urged Sally to be the same. "Oh, it's
only our good friend, Higgie," Angie said happily. "Hi, Higgie.
Come on in. We want you to meet somebody." And Angie remained
casually on her knees beside the bed.
Higgie was a fat little guy with a mop of hair that dangled
in his face like a gorilla's. He had ham hands and a constant
leer, and he had beady little eyes only for Sally. "Say, this is
rich," he said, right away, eyeing her as if he never had heard
about her before. "Hey, kid, you're really beautiful. Did you
know that? I mean, you could command a million dollars anywhere."
And he moved towards Sally.
Sally cringed and tried to cover herself with a sheet. Angie
pulled the sheet away, but at the same time she threw out a hand
and blocked Higgie's path. "Oh, come on now, Higgie," she said.
"This is something special. Sally's a mature and sophisticated
girl, believe me. She knows the score. Don't you, Sal? You know
what Higgie's after, don't you? And you make guys like him pay
for it, don't you, sweetheart? I know I do. Anytime Higgie wants
something from me, I say, 'Higgie baby, hand it over if you want
anything I have to give away.'" And she reached an open palm to
Higgie to go with her words.
Higgie then said, ever according to plan, "Well, believe me,
I'll pay any day of the week to have something as beautiful as
Sally. Is that your name, honey? That's a beautiful name.
Sally." He said it softly and gazed to the mark lovingly.
"Aw, get out of here," I then told Higgie seemingly angrily.
"You can't come crowding in on me. I've got Sally, not you." And
I kept my fingers on her pussy.
But Angie told Sally, "Don't listen to Ace. He's just
jealous because he doesn't have Higgie's kind of money. Me, I'm
mature and sophisticated, and I know that money talks. Believe
me, it does. You'll always be able to land guys like Ace, but
where will you meet a guy like Higgie? Higgie, show Sal how much
you carry around with you."
That was the signal for him to display his wallet. It was
stuffed, of course. Sally's eyes went big, even if she might not
have wanted them to go big. And I knew she was hooked. She was
the perfect mark in every way. What cunt really isn't?
Then Angie reached for the wallet, taking it from Higgie.
"Are you willing to pay what Sally's worth?" she asked Higgie,
starting to take bills from the wallet.
"Hey, give that here," Higgie snapped, grabbing the wallet
away from Angie. "If she likes screwing, she won't worry about
money. If-"
"You're right," Angie said, suddenly agreeing. "That's the
way I feel, too. But just the same, I always like a five just to
prove that you care enough for me to part with some money. So
give her a five if you really care." And to Sally Angie
immediately said, "Don't let him touch you until he parts with a
fiver. He owes you that, at least."
"All right," Higgie said, seemingly disgusted. "If that's
the way it goes; here." And he pulled out a five and flipped it
to the bed where it fell directly before Sally's curled legs.
"Take it," Angie told Sally. "Don't let him get it back.
Grab it." And Angie did the grabbing, forcing the bill to the
dummy. Sally naturally accepted the first bit of coin she ever
had earned for a piece of her tail.
But she still was behind the game as Angie told Higgie next,
"All right. She'll screw you. You've proven you care enough to
part with some of your lousy coin. So she'll screw you. She
likes to screw, and she'll give you the time of your life. Won't
you, Sal?" she said, turning to the dummy.
Sally didn't know what to say. Fear registered on her dumb
face. Higgie undressed. She watched him take off his clothes,
and she was in a kind of trance. Then I said, "Well, I'm not
going to let Higgie screw you, Sally. I want to screw you." And
I gripped her wrist.
"Screw them both," Angie told Sally. "Show them you can take
them both together. Screw Higgie and screw Ace at the same time."
And to us men, she then said, "Sal will take you both on. She's
not afraid. She's had guys before. She knows how to handle a
man." To Sally, then, she added, "Who doesn't know how to handle
a guy, huh, Sal? I mean, like all they're interested in is coming.
Bring them to a come, and they don't think of any thing else."
Sally, the dummy, was paralyzed. Everything was happening to
her, and she wasn't making anything happen in her own life. I
realized the dumbness of most cunts when I watched her in that
room. I knew that cunts aren't worth respecting, that nothing
about them is worth a damn. A broad has a pair of tits and a
snatch, but nothing else. The smart guys learns this early. He's
not sucked in by the fact that his groin responds to those tits
and that pussy. After awhile, he knows that, when you turn them
upside down, they're all the same. And he acts accordingly. If
he's smart, he never lets a broad take him for a ride. He always
takes her.
So it was easy for me to tell her, "Sally, go onto your
knees. Suck Higgie off and I'll hit your twat from behind. I'll
stud you doggy-style, and you can blow Higgie's dick while I'm
screwing you from behind. Go ahead, sweetheart. Get onto your
knees."
"That's a swell idea," Angie said enthusiastically, turning
Sally around, and setting her up for the fucking. "That's a
perfect way to take both of them, Sal. Hurry. Show them how you
can do it."
It was then that Sally burst into tears. Suddenly she
whimpered, and then bawled. And she said, "But I've never ..."
And she stopped, short, not finishing her words, looking
embarrassedly to Angie, probably realizing that her fear had made
her reveal exactly how unsophisticated and immature she really
was. But she couldn't stop bawling. And that's when Alternate
Plan Number Two came into play.
Higgie immediately jumped forward, now balls-naked, and he
said, very harshly to the broad, "Do you mean you're taking my
dough, but not giving me a fair return? Why, you lousy bitch!"
and he slammed her face solidly with a fist. She toppled over
like a rag-doll, and Higgie fell atop her, pounding her as she
suddenly screamed.
Angie and I naturally jumped on him, pulling him away, and
Angie shouted, "Why, you dirty 58
bastard. You filthy lousy bastard. Higgie, you're worthless.
That poor girl wants to screw you, and yet you-"
I interrupted on cue, saying, "She'll screw only me. I won't
let her screw you. I won't let-"
Then, on cue, Higgie interrupted, shouting, "I'll screw her.
You'll have to get her damned far from here before you screw her
without me screwing her. I'll screw her, don't worry."
"I will get her damned far from here," I shouted in return.
"I'll get her all the way to Mexico. That's where I'll get her.
I'll take her to Mexico."
"I'll follow you," Higgie shouted. "I'll follow you across
the face of the earth. I want that cunt's twat. You understand?
I want that broad's snatch."
Then Higgie and I engaged in a mock fist fight in which I
floored him fast, kicked his face, and sent him in a roll on the
floor. "Take that, you sonofabitch," I shouted. "Screw her if
you think you can. But you'll get more of the same if she doesn't
want you to screw her."
It was then Angie stepped in. "I've had enough violence
around here," she yelled at both Higgie and myself. "And I'll be
damned if I'll have anymore of it. Look," she then yelled
directly at me, "if Sally wants to screw Higgie, that's her
business. You've got no right interfering with her, do you
understand?"
"She doesn't want to screw him," I shouted. And to Sally I
then demanded, "Do you, Sal? Do you want to screw that bastard?"
Angie answered fast while the dummy still whimpered, and
Angie snapped at me, "She'll screw Higgie. She's not like you.
She's mature and sophisticated. Sally's broad-minded." To the
mark then she said, going onto the bed beside her, cuddling the
dummy, "Aren't you, baby? Aren't you broad-minded. You're like I
am. Me, I can screw a guy regardless of how he treats me. You
know why, too, don't you, hon? Because we're superior to any men.
We know we are, and we know they need our cunts. At the same
time, we like our loving, so it doesn't matter. We can take their
cocks just for the good it does us. But we don't give a shit for
any of them. We can screw them anytime."
Sally stupidly nodded agreement. She played into our hands
all the way. And when Angie suggested we get on with the show,
told Sally to go back onto her knees again and prepare to suck
Higgie's dick while I stuffed my pork up her bun from behind, the
idiot did exactly that. She went onto her knees and even opened
her mouth in the shape of an O and closed her eyes and waited.
It was too funny for words. Angie shook her head when the
kid was that way, and we all grinned at each other. Higgie was
gleeful and raised a forefinger and thumb in a circle to indicate
perfection. Then he went onto the bed and sent his pork at her
mouth. I climbed behind the loon, and studded her cunt from the
rear passage. She moaned and started to bawl again, but Angie
comforted her by playing with Sally's nips. It was quite a scene.
Chapter 4
Let me describe it for you, before I go on to tell about our
trip to the border. There we were with the mark among us, and I
was sending my spear into her vault, reaming her cunt from behind
beautifully. I could see myself in an adjacent vanity mirror, and
I was holding her hips, she was on her knees, I had my belly
against her ass cheeks, and I was laughing like hell at myself in
that mirror from the good feeling it was giving me to ram her bun
that way.
All the while Higgie was in front of her on his knees, his
back against the headboard, and he had his cock in her mouth. She
was on her elbows and had her neck strained and was gobbling his
pork, her eyes closed and tears flowing from them. And he was
fucking her solidly into her mouth.
Beside her, on her own knees, Angie was reaching up to play
with the dope's nipples, feeling Sally's titties, and occasionally
going under her to suck her nips. And Sally was responding by
shaking all over and by wriggling her can at me. And we all were
having one helluva good time.
Soon Higgie and I started working for our comes. Looking
into the mirror, I could see his tension mount the same as did
mine. We both were grinning at that mirror, watching what was
happening like a couple of happy kids, and we hardly could keep
our eyes open. Soon all we could do was fuck what was in front of
us. I couldn't see my spear going in and out of her bun because
she had her ass smack against my belly, and vice versa. But just
watching Higgie's big dick go in and out of her mouth turned me on
some more, and soon I was imagining that his cock was my own and
that I was studding the bitch from both ends. And it sent the old
cream high in my balls, and soon I was ready to pop.
That's when I savagely grabbed her hips, didn't laugh anymore
but just raged, "You fucking lousy bitch, I'm going to send my
payload into you now. I'm going to wallop you good with my come,
you lousy twat. I'm going to give you the treatment now, believe
me." And I seared her cunt hard and heavy and fast, fast, fast,
with my powerful rod.
It was a wild and good feeling, something crazy, and I felt
the jism rushing out from my balls and along my pole and straight
into her hot cunt. I felt it spilling away, and I felt the relief
coming to my ached groin. I shoved and shoved and felt the
tremendous pressure release itself from my loins as I spilled my
crap into her. It was great. I hated the bitch, but I loved to
pour that jism up her hole.
At the same time Higgie gave her the treatment, too. He sent
his come solidly into her mouth. And he squeezed her throat, too.
"Bitch," he snapped, "swallow every ounce of it. You hear? Don't
let a drop go unswallowed. Take it right down into your bowels,
you bitch. Take it all." And he made her swallow every drop of
his come.
The cunt bawled, naturally. It pleased me. I wanted to beat
the shit out of her, too, because I wanted to be pleased even
more. But it was good just to see her bawl. Like a nut, she
remained on her elbows and knees, let me stay in her hole and kept
Higgie's dick in her mouth despite all her crying. I knew that
she was a bitch like every other bitch. They're all the same.
They pretend they're worth something, and they all end up the same
way, needing cock and holding onto it whenever they get the
smallest chance. Bitches.
Then we got the hell out of there. We said we were just
going for a ride, and we dressed and got the hell out of there.
First though Angie took Sally into the bathroom for a shower, and
they went together into the stall and closed the curtain on
themselves. Higgie and I peeked in to see if Angie was keeping up
the act, and she was, because they were embracing, kissing deeply
and shoving their bodies together the way it was supposed to be.
Naturally, Sally was reacting from self-pity and sorrow, and Angie
was using the situation perfectly.
As Higgie whispered to me when he saw that, "Before it's
over, that cunt will be willing to do anything." And that's why
Angie got Sally to eat her on the way down to the border.
It started as a simple ride around town, as I've said, but
then Higgie got the idea we ought to see some friends he said he
had on the border. Angie protested that it might be too far for
Sally to go. I said Sally had traveled plenty of places. Angie
asked Sally if that was true. Sally was iffy. Then Angie changed
her mind about it being too far, pretended that Sally had
satisfied her with a comment that Sally was "used to everything,"
something which Sally hadn't even said, and then Angie started
hugging Sally in the back seat, loving her, saying Sally was the
sweetest girl she ever had met and everything else along that
stupid line.
It wasn't long before the psychology of the situation took
over. Sally, apparently in self-pity and needing strong comfort
which Angie gave her and with a determination also to prove to
Angie that she could do all things without qualms, soon took off
her clothes with Angie's help, did the same for Angie, and
proceeded to start the Les act in the rear seat.
Higgie and I watched the performance through the rearview
mirror. It was a beautiful thing to see. Let me describe it for
you. Angie moved Sally low on the back seat, raised Sally's legs
around her own shoulders, then went onto the seat herself on an
angle, so that one of her feet was on the floor and the other knee
was on the seat. She caressed the outsides of Sally's thighs,
grabbed the mark's rump, and went low and swift for the kill. If
you looked closely in the rearview, every once in awhile, you
could see Angie's expert tongue darting in for the kill.
Sometimes too, Angie would raise her head and start licking
Sally's tits, giving those hefty orbs a lot of good kisses,
licking all around the wide aureoles and bringing the nips to
outstanding thrusts. And Sally soon stopped her whimpering from
self-pity and now whimpered and moaned and sighed from good
feeling. And sometimes the mark even managed to open her eyes and
look down at her benefactress very pleasedly, a small and happy
lingering smile on her paralyzed lips. And it wasn't long before
the mark threw her head back against the seat, opened her mouth in
a gasp, closed her eyes tightly, and began thumping Angie's mouth
with her hump.
"Raise your legs," Angie commanded her. "Stretch them out,
hold the backs of your knees, and lock your ankles together. And
fuck my mouth like you've never fucked a mouth before." And Angie
renewed her savage attack on Sally's cunt.
It was beautiful to watch. It actually turned me on, believe
it or not. I was getting hot just from looking at them. And
Higgie saw it. "We'll bring that dummy up front after awhile," he
whispered, "and she can blow us all the way down to the border."
He winked to me. And we went back to watching the action in the
rearview mirror.
Then it was Angie's turn to get eaten. After she brought
Sally to a terrific come, they turned tables. Sally was still
limp from a violent explosion in which she had yelled to the skies
from her good feeling. She had humped her twat at Angie's mouth
like a truck going eighty into an underpass. And she went insane
from the attack. Finally she broke loose all that was in her,
dropped her legs to Angie's shoulders, sucked air and opened her
eyes and looked like a happy and exhausted little girl down to
Angie when my "sister" came from between the dummy's legs.
And that's when Angie said, "Okay, now it's my turn."
Sally looked at her dumbly. Angie said, "Sure. You don't
think everything's for free, do you? I want some good times, too.
Hurry up, kid, get your ass off the seat and get down here so we
can change places. I want your tongue up my vag right now." And
she started to turn Sally for the new situation.
They changed places, first lingering beside each other on the
back seat, Angie embracing Sally, drawing her close for a tongue-
to-tongue job. And Angie spread her legs widely, twisted a
little, and I could see her hairy cooz starting to flow just from
her own anticipation. Sally affectionately crowded to her in the
kiss, and locked a leg over Angie's thigh as Angie played with one
of Sally's nips. Both of them were spread, and if you like to see
what a cunt looks like close-up, that was a good opportunity.
They're not the nicest things in the world to study, especially
when the pussy fur doesn't cover those ugly lips and the red gash.
Angie forced Sally onto the floor, easing her down even while
she spread her legs farther for the dummy, and soon she had Sally
busy between her legs. Angie winked to us as she locked her
thighs around the kid's neck, and she shoved her twat hard into
Sally's face. "Eat me, lover," she whispered, grabbing Sally's
hair and pulling it wildly. "Eat me for all you're worth. Give
me a terrific tongue job. Eat me all the way."
Sally did what she was told, and Angie went crazy. "Oh,
wow," Angie exclaimed amidst the licking. "Like you're driving me
insane. Baby, I didn't think you could do it so well. Keep it
up, lover. Keep it up." And her words encouraged the dummy to
lick her better than ever. Soon Sally had Angie going wilder and
wilder till that point where she shoved her twat at Sally's face
with such a banging that she almost knocked Sally back against the
front seat. It was a genuine explosion.
Afterwards we stopped in the shade of a tree on the highway,
climbed out naked, and all took turns screwing Sally, even Angie
going onto her and rubbing boxes together behind that tree as the
traffic whizzed past us. And, as Higgie had earlier suggested, he
and I had the cunt suck our dicks the rest of the way to the
border, Sally alternating on our rods, staying on the car floor
between us all the way, finishing sucking one and then starting on
the other, back and forth all the way to the border. It was the
wildest.
Well, you know what we did with the cunt, don't you? Sure.
We delivered her to a cathouse. We went to see Higgie's friends,
a pair of Mexicans, slicked and mustached, they eyed the
merchandise and asked for a fitting. We encouraged the girl on a
wild party and she laid them both. They liked what they found,
and they asked for the ticket. Higgie told them the price, and
they bought the goods. Then we told Sally that it was just a
temporary thing and that she shouldn't worry about a thing. To
ease the pain, Angie stayed with her awhile and worked the
cathouse too. They both took customers, sometimes together, and
soon Sally found herself getting used to the place. Then Angie
cut out, and we left the slut where she belonged. Oh, she bawled
the night we left, but we lied and told her we wouldn't be gone
long. And then we couldn't care less. We just blasted out of
there and counted our earnings. It had been a nice haul.
That's when I realized the beauties of procuring. Higgie
offered me a piece of his set-up, and Angie and I proceeded to
work the scheme in a series of towns, me always enrolling in or
hanging around some high school, looking for the perfect marks,
then lining them up and delivering them to the border. I went on
with the business for three years, working it when I felt like
traveling the country, otherwise, enjoying the whole show. And
then I got the crazy idea of doing something different.
Let me talk about that for awhile.
Chapter 5
There are in our country a number of men's clubs and so-
called civic organizations which sponsor various kinds of shows on
what are called "stag night." Those shows mainly deal with pretty
girls who seldom wear clothes for their performances, and much
money can be made by arranging them. They are not exactly
illegitimate, although they are not necessarily looked upon with
graciousness. However, because the leading men of a community are
often members of those organizations, it is not an unusual thing
to find the groups have a great deal of leeway in the types of
entertainment afforded on such nights.
I realized these little facts of life over a long period of
time as I traveled from coast-to-coast, observing local habits
here and there, getting myself a solid education in the ways of
life. And I decided to cash in on it. But at the same time, I
wanted to offer them something different. It is one thing to
offer an old crone; it is something else to offer a pretty young
and reasonably innocent maiden. There is something far more
exciting about seeing loveliness destroyed. People will pay money
for it, I have discovered.
So I went in search of innocent things. But I didn't want to
fool with the high school crowd. Besides, I was getting too old
for that scene. So I switched to the campuses, and started
prowling them. Let me pause and say something about them.
In our day and age, it's pretty damned hard to find innocence
on any college campus. For instance, my first jaunt onto one in
search of exactly what I wanted ended up with a lay in an empty
classroom. Let me just mention it in passing.
In colleges, classes are rather large, and close check of
those who attend is not made; hence it is often possible to enter
a lecture room, take a place somewhere in the rear and not be at
all noticed as being new to the course. It's a good way to put
the make on a broad, too. I know. I tried it, and succeeded.
She was a honey blonde, about nineteen or twenty, and she had
a beautiful set of knockers, believe me. She had her legs
crossed, wore an extremely short skirt, and immediately let me see
her stocking tops whenever she knew I would be her class neighbor
for a session that she really didn't seem to be interested in
attending. In fact, it wasn't long before I saw the band of white
thigh flesh that rises between stocking tops and panty line, and I
was going crazy with the hugest hard-on I think I ever had known.
That was when, amidst a dry lecture of which I understood
very little, she began doodling things in her notebook like
circles and arrows, the sex symbols, and doing all kinds of little
tricks with them, like putting the arrow in the circle and all
that. I knew exactly what was happening. That broad wanted a
lay, and I was her target.
Well, fine. I don't mind being a target once in awhile. If
ass is available, I'll grab it anytime. I don't have any respect
for it, but I'll take it every time. And I took that cunt too.
Let me tell you about it.
First off, I asked her what she was drawing. She said, "Oh,
just some symbols."
"What do they mean?" I asked.
"Oh, just some things. Don't you know?"
"Tell me about them."
"If you don't know, I can't tell you."
"Is this what they mean?" With that, I simply put my hand on
her knee.
"Hey." She pulled it away on a reflex.
But I held on. "After all," I said, "if you can draw it, why
don't you feel it?" And I moved up her leg quickly, stopping at a
midpoint on her thigh.
She flustered, her game called, and tried to pull my hand
away. But then she stopped, probably realizing that nobody was
watching us in that back row where we were all alone, and she just
turned on a little smile for me.
She was a slut. I knew she was. That's the way they all
behave. They lead you on with a lot of teases, then play hard to
get if you call them on their games, and finally let you do
anything you want just so long as they think nobody will see them
in the act. Broads are all the same. They're hypocritical as all
hell. If you think there's a good broad in the world, fellow,
you're crazy.
Anyway, we got the hell out of that lecture room after the
class session was ended. By that time, she was well primed.
Hell, I had no trouble at all, once she realized nobody was
watching her, and I had been playing with her cooz the rest of the
time. I went up her thigh fast, squeezing along the way, finally
running fingers along the inner surfaces, getting a charge myself
from what I was doing, and at the same time making her squirm like
crazy. And finally I just went to work on her twat, rubbing her
silkies where her cunt was, and making her squirm more than ever.
She pulled her crotch band away and let me go right into her
blonde fuzz, and she even spread her legs for me, slumping in her
seat as she did, squirming all over the place from my finger up
her hole. And when I indicated she should zip down my fly and
start playing with my rod, she didn't have to be told twice. My
John Henry stood at attention for her, popping from my britches
the minute she had that fly open, and she did a little dance with
her fingers up and down the shaft. I wanted to cream the world
right then.
"Suck on it," I whispered. "Go down on it for a couple of
licks."
She did that too. Right there in the back of the lecture
hall, she came down on me for a few seconds of suck time while I
slipped my hand inside her blouse and started playing with her
booby. In no time at all she was begging me to fuck her, and the
minute that class ended we went looking for someplace to screw.
Finally we found a classroom in the basement that was
unoccupied, and she took me in there. "I don't give a shit if
anybody finds us or not," she said, panting, her face red. "I
need your dick. Oh, I need your dick badly." And immediately she
had her hand inside my trousers and was yanking out my meat again.
I shoved her against the wall inside the door, hiked her
skirt around her waist, and pulled down her drawers. She stepped
out of them right away, and spread her legs for my hand to go at
her cooz. I juiced her some more with a pair of fingers, then
wheeled her around and sat her atop the nearest desk. "I'm going
to plug you standing up," I said. "Just sit there and wrap your
legs around my ass, hold my neck, and let me cream your bun on a
straight run. I've got the hots for your twat, believe me."
She spread immediately, locking her arms around my neck. I
sent my pork smack into her hot hole. She was wet, wet, wet. Her
cunt hairs were soaked from her juice. And I began spearing her
that way while I unbuttoned her blouse, reached around her and
unhooked her bra and went at her tits. I bent low, pulling away
her bra so that it dangled above her tits, and I started sucking
those juicy honey melons. Her nipples came up big, and she shoved
them at my mouth, one and then the other, when I sucked them
solidly.
All the while I ran my rod into her hot snatch, and she
locked her legs around my ass. She squealed and squirmed and
moaned and groaned, and then we started going like sixty for the
big comes. I fucked her royally, and she whimpered from my savage
good thrusts. And it wasn't anytime at all before we had mounted
the scales and were shoving everything in us out in a final
unleashing of taut nerves. It was a beautiful thing, and I loved
every minute of it.
But she was a bitch, and I couldn't care less. Afterwards
she begged to see me again, but I told her I would think about it.
"Oh, Ace," she said, when I told her my name, "I want to fuck you
the rest of my life. Look, Ace, how about tonight? I can get out
of the dorm. I'll sleep with you anywhere. I'll quit school if
you want me to. I just want to fuck you though. Please let me
lay you."
They're all the same. They behave at first like butter won't
melt in their bunghole, but after awhile they end up begging you
for your yang. They stink, all of them. I couldn't be bothered
with her; and I looked elsewhere.
Finally I thought I saw the one I wanted. Oh, don't get me
wrong; she had screwed, too. She wasn't a virgin, that's for
sure. Her name was Susie, and she was a pretty little redhead
with very long hair which she said she hadn't cut since she was
twelve. She was big in the boobs department but had a narrow ass
that indicated she hadn't known too much sack time. When I asked
her if she'd ever laid, she flustered and then finally admitted
that she'd been dicked a couple of times by a boyfriend who had
left her. From everything I could figure, she was what I wanted
for a screwing.
So I started seeing her regularly. She was worried about
fucking, and she wouldn't spread right away. I wished I had Angie
around for the game we'd play on so many other cunts. But I also
wanted to make her, just for the sake of proving myself alone. I
courted her like I really was after her hand in marriage, and
pretty soon we got close to home plate.
It came about in a funny way, too, when it did come. Let me
tell you about that.
We actually got engaged. Believe it or not, but I scrounged
up a second-hand ring and we had a big ceremony at her house, and
her mom and dad were there, and so was her older sister, Ruthie, a
broad who was twenty-four, divorced, and had a pair of kids.
Ruthie was another redhead, though not as red as Susie. And
she was different in other ways too. I had suspected she was, on
the few occasions when I had met her previously, but on the night
of the engagement party, she proved how right I was. Like, she
said, right off, when we were alone by the punchbowl and Susie was
out dancing on the floor with a guy who dated her girlfriend,
Beverly, "You're hot for her twat, and you know it."
I did a double-take when I heard Ruthie say that, and she
laughed, adding, "Don't worry, I'm not loaded; not that loaded.
But I know a thing when I see it. You won't marry Susie, and you
know it. You're just after her ass."
I pretended to be surprised. And I even said, somewhat
angrily for effect, "How can you say something like that? What
are you talking about?"
"You know what I'm talking about," she said, turning to me in
such a way that I was looking down into a pile of lovely
decolletage in the low-cut blouse she wore. Her tits were coming
up like beautiful white crests, begging me to touch them. I knew
I was hot. Hell, a hard was building in my drawers.
She rubbed herself lightly, supposedly accidentally, against
that too, and I knew I had to screw her before the night was over.
"You're a bitch," I hissed. "You're a filthy bitch."
"Ace, you know your own kind," she gave me back. "And from
the minute I first saw you, I knew you were my kind. Now why the
hell don't we bug out of here and get it over with?"
I looked around. Susie was still dancing happily with the
girlfriend's date. Beverly, the girlfriend, was dancing with
another. Everybody was occupied. It would be a perfect time to
cut out for a breath of fresh air-or something. "Meet me at my
car. It's down the street. You know which one," I whispered.
"I'll say I have to head out for a minute if they ask."
"Don't let them ask," she came back throatily. "Just bug out
now. I'll cut by the back way, and we'll meet there. Hurry up.
I'm creaming my panties." And she started away quickly, going to
the kitchen.
I slipped out without telling anybody anything. Susie's mom
saw me just as I was to the door. I smiled, and made a sign like
I had forgotten something, and I hurried the hell out of there.
Then I went down the street fast. When I reached my car, I heard
Ruthie say through the back window, "I'm here, sweetheart, ready
and waiting. Don't waste a minute." And there she was, spread on
the seat, her pants on the floor, her cunt big and furry and ready
in front of me.
"You want to fuck here?"
"I want to fuck here. I don't give a damn where I fuck. I
would have fucked in there. I'll fuck anywhere. Ace, you don't
know how much I want your dick." She was fumbling at my fly
before I was ten seconds in that car.
"You're hard-up," I said. "That's your whole trouble.
You're jut hard-up. You want a fuck. It doesn't matter whose
prick it is. You just want a fuck."
She yanked my dick from my shorts and started it to her cooz.
"It's true I need a dick," she said. "I'm not married anymore,
and I want cock. I got used to it when I was hitched, and I don't
know how to break it."
"You're a slut," I said, "like all broads. Nothing but a
slut."
"Why do you want to fuck Susie then?" she asked, inserting my
rod solidly to her hot box. "If all you think we are is sluts,
what's with Susie?"
"Maybe I like smashing the cherry kind."
"She's no cherry, and you know it. She told me she already
told you about the boyfriend that took it."
"Maybe she's close enough these days to be a reasonable
facsimile."
"You're a rolling stone, Ace. She's something you need for
something else. What is it?"
"Shut up. You've got cock in your twat now. So start
screwing. Just shut up and start screwing." And I sent my pork
deep into her hot hole for a long good wham.
She shut up and went after my cock with a firm twist of her
box. It made me shiver. I liked the way she handled her cooz. I
pulled her blouse away, unbuttoning its back quickly, and
unsnapped that half-bra she was wearing and took her beautiful
orbs in my mouth solidly, one at a time. She had immense
aureoles, the kind that practically cover the whole damned tit.
Her boobs were big things too, starting to be hangers, loose and
kind of floppy without the bra, and her coronas were immense.
I worked her nips with my tongue and lips and soon I had them
shooting out like rockets. "Oooh," she squealed. "You're
unbelievable, Ace. You suck a tit better than I've ever had done
to me before. It's great. It's sensational."
I grabbed her ass cheeks, and she locked her legs around my
neck next, and I sent my meat solidly against the roof of her
cunt. I dug her with a vengeance, and didn't say anything,
sucking her titties, and banging her cunt solidly. Soon we were
rocking for a big come, and we couldn't have stopped ourselves
even if we had tried.
And, wouldn't you know it? That's exactly when Susie and her
girl friend Beverly showed up. We didn't know it, Ruthie or I,
until we heard them scream outside the car window and then turned,
spent in our fuck at the very moment of our final coming, to see
those other broads running down the street, crying like a pair of
cherries.
Ruthie laughed. That's the first thing she did when she
realized what had happened. "Well, you fucked yourself but good,"
she said, happy as all get out. "There goes the engagement-out
the window."
I slapped her face. "You bitch," I raged. "That's what
you'd like, wouldn't you? You'd like that very thing. Well,
bitcho, you're not going to get that, believe me." And I pulled
my spent dick from her wet hole, wiped it dry on her blouse while
she screamed and tried to pull her blouse away and called me all
kinds of names. Then I shoved the come in her face where I had
wiped my dick on her blouse, punched her tits hard with a fist,
each of them in turn, and then rammed a pair of fingers hard up
her vag and made her really scream.
After that I went to the house and found Susie in her room,
bawling. Everybody was upset, but nobody knew exactly what had
happened. Oh, they all had an idea, because they had surely
missed Ruthie too. But they really didn't know; all except
Beverly.
That cunt was standing outside Ruthie's bedroom door like a
guard. A bitch with long black hair and big black eyes, she had a
terrific pair of tits and a swell ass too, and I never stopped
wanting to stick it to her either, the whole time I had been
dating stupid Susie. But I was concentrating on Susie, and I
didn't want to lose her. So I said to Beverly then, when she and
I faced each other alone outside Susie's door, "Let me see her,
Bev. I love that girl. Please let me see her."
"You don't love her," that cunt gave me back. "Not after
what you were doing out in that car; you couldn't love any girl,
and you know it." She eyed me meanly, and didn't budge when I
tried to push past her to that door.
The fact that she stood directly in my way, letting me
practically slam right against her tits, and the fact that I
really wanted to stud her as much as I wanted to dick Susie, gave
me an idea. And that's why I gave her a rubbing of chest to tits,
looking solidly at her, and whispering, "You can have what you saw
in the car, Bev, if you're interested."
She flustered, and moved away. "I wouldn't think of such a
thing," she snapped, outraged.
Outraged, my asshole. None of them are ever outraged when
you're offering them cock. I knew that, and so I added, "Bev, I
would have married you if you'd given me a chance."
"You're a bastard," she hissed, backing away when I tried to
go after her. "You're a bastard, and you know it."
I grabbed her. I pulled her close. She tried to break away,
but she didn't say a word. She could have screamed, but she
didn't say a word. I plunged my lips to hers, and dug my tongue
between her lips. She yielded exactly as I had expected she would
and soon our tongues were doing crazy little dances together and
she was shoving her big hot tits against me. I squeezed them.
She sighed somehow even with her mouth locked on mine. Then I
inched up her skirt as she threw her box at my cock, and I got a
finger hand between her legs and went after her vag.
It was then there sounded footsteps in the hall, and she drew
herself away from me fast, and said loudly, "I'll see if she wants
to see you." And to me, she whispered, "I'll take care of her if
you'll ..." And her eyes on me completed that proposition.
I only had to nod, and she went into that bedroom while
Susie's stupid mom and dad came to me and asked me what was the
trouble. I said I didn't know, and that Bev was trying to bring
Susie to me so we could discuss things, and then Bev was back and
was easing off those old idiots while she indicated I should go
into Susie's bedroom where the dumb cunt lay bawling on her wide
bed.
I went in, closed the door behind me and determined that I
was going to fuck that twat right there that night in her own
damned bedroom. It would be a beautiful turn of fate, I figured,
and something to even the score for her embarrassing me the way
she did with that virgin act. But I wasn't in that room, and
sitting on that bed five minutes than Susie was coming into my lap
and rubbing her lips against my bulge and telling me she never
wanted to lose me.
That's something I've learned about broads. When they're in
a pinch, they'll always let their sex go if it means holding a
guy. They can be the supposedly purest twats in the world, but
pressure them with the thought of losing you, and they'll do
anything under the sun to hold on. That's exactly what Susie was
doing there on my fly.
And I unzipped it for her. I wanted to see exactly how far
she would go. So I unzipped my fly for her and watched. I assure
you, I didn't have to watch long. She looked up at me through
tearful eyes, like she was asking a question, and then, not
waiting an answer, she took its hilt daintily with one hand,
clasping the root preciously with her little fingers and thumb,
and mournfully went down with her lips to its red swollen head.
She knew the way to a man's heart, believe me.
But they all do. Every cunt does. Show me the cunt that
won't suck you off if you want it, and I'll show you a cunt that
doesn't know anything at all. One thing I've discovered and that
is that there are very few broads indeed who won't blow you if you
want them to blow you. Oh, they might pretend that they don't
know what it's about, but I assure you it doesn't take them long
to find out.
Anyway, Susie began licking my dick. Oh, she cried a little,
and sobbed, and looked tearfully at me once in awhile. But she
never stopped her dick-licking. She gobbled it beautifully, and
of course I shoved my prime pork solidly into her mouth. If she
wanted to suck me, I was willing to be sucked.
It was during the blow job that Bev came back. She gasped
when she saw what was happening, and Susie started to pull away.
But I just laughed about the whole thing, waved that Bev should
enter, pulled Susie's head back down on my dick, and told Bev she
could keep herself busy too if she was interested. "Undress
Susie," I said, "and eat her cunt awhile if you feel like it.
There's no sense passing up an opportunity for sex." And I
laughed as I rammed my dick into Susie's mouth again.
I've found that you don't really have to spend much time
convincing a broad about sex, if she thinks she can get away with
it. And even when she doesn't think she can get away with it,
she'll do whatever is necessary to get her sex kicks. For
instance, Beverly went right away, right there in that room when
everybody else was in that house, and she proceeded to undress
Susie, slipping away Susie's pretty dress, taking off her slip and
bra and pants and garter belt and stockings, everything, while
Susie, between letting Bev take this or that off her, continued
that suck on my cock.
And then Bev dropped her own things, like she had been
waiting for that day a half a century, and she spread her
girlfriend's legs and went after that red-haired bush and buried
her face between those luscious thighs and started eating cunt
like nobody's business.
It was a great session, believe me. I was going nuts from
the good feeling Susie was giving my rod. And Susie, in turn, was
shaking all over from Bev's action on her vag. And I decided to
help the cause along with Bev by eating her vag, in turn. So we
all went into a chain on that bed, and I got a taste of some
bittersweet cunt. Bev locked her legs around my head and damned
nearly squeezed me to death, humping and thrusting, enjoying every
wild good twist of the tongue I sent up her hot vag. It was a
crazy chain, believe me.
And then we all rode to good comes. We thrashed left and
right and sent ourselves into spasms that wouldn't stop till the
last taut nerve endings had been released. We spiraled round and
round, gave each other our bottoms in wild glee, and finally
unleashed everything that was inside us, pounding our bodies
solidly against the other's mouths. It was wild.
Afterwards we got ourselves ready and went back to the party
and said we had talked things out and that it all had been a
little misunderstanding and that everything was just fine between
us, and that nobody had a thing to worry about.
Susie's old lady and old man believed us, and gave us big
smiles and behaved like a couple of dopes. But Ruthie gave us the
eye, she having returned to the party, and Susie and her sister
exchanged interesting glances. And I knew there would be more
than already had happened.
Which is another story.
Chapter 6
I started out talking about something else, so I don't want
to get sidetracked. Let me just say this. Susie and Ruthie and
Beverly learned to know each other quite well and rather
satisfactorily, and we made a pleasant foursome. But I still had
my plans for that cunt Susie, and I made it clear to her one
afternoon a few months later and just before we were scheduled to
get married.
"Baby," I said to her that day when we had just finished
knocking it off in her bedroom and when her parents and sister
were out elsewhere, "I think we ought to bug out. I don't think I
can make the scene anymore with Ruthie and Bev. I think they're
interfering with a good thing."
She bit. She was ready for it. As I've long ago discovered,
every cunt will fuck with others around if that's the only way she
can hold her man. But, given the chance, she'll always try to
have him for herself at any price. So she agreed hastily.
And we made arrangements to elope. Within the week we had
pulled it off, and we hit the road. Oh, she was surprised when
she found out I wasn't getting married. But she wanted me alone
so much that she didn't give a damn if I didn't marry her right
away. She was convinced that I was hers, and that was the main
thing.
So I went ahead with my plans. The day came when I told her
I had a chance to play for a particular group, and that it was a
way to make money if she was interested. She asked what I would
do. I said, as nicely as you please, "They pay to see me fuck."
She looked at me. I laughed. "Crazy, huh?" I said, "But it's the
truth. They pay to see a guy screw."
"But who will you do it with?" she asked dumbly.
It was just the question I wanted her to ask. "Oh, anybody,
I suppose. I've been thinking of getting in touch with Ruthie or
Bev. They'd probably be willing to screw me in public."
I waited for the hook to sink into her cheek. It did. She
said, "Does it have to be somebody else?" Get that? She was
practically saying whom she would prefer it to be rather than
anybody else.
So I said, "It can be anybody. Hell, it could even be you if
you were interested."
Another hook was placed in her cheek. "Do you have to do
that for a living?" she asked. But note that she did not refuse
to screw me in public. Women are that way. They don't give a
shit who sees them if it will keep them solid with a guy, and
especially if nobody makes a scandal about it. They'll screw in
the middle of the biggest intersection in the world, if nobody
talks against them.
"I'd like to screw you," I said, by way of an answer. "If
you agreed, I'd be more than happy." I looked to her for an
answer. She gave it to me with a nod. I kissed her bare big
titties in front of me on that bed where we had just finished
knocking it off. "You make me very happy," I said, and licked
those lovely monsters nicely.
But it still wasn't done, of course. There was a lot of
training in the program. Although we started screwing in front of
groups, and were making money nicely, there still was more to it
than just that. Those guys don't just want to see a pair
screwing; they want all kinds of delights. I was determined to
get Susie all the way in her efforts to please them.
That's why I bought Rover. He was a cute little bastard,
just a little puppy, nothing to think about at all. But puppies
grow, as I'm sure you realize, and Rover grew too. And one day he
was ready to screw.
Of course in the meantime, we had played with him in the bed,
and I had taught him to lick Susie's cunt. She thought that was
cute, although at first she was a bit surprised. But a cunt is
surprised for about two minutes. After that, she's used to
anything you want her to do. It was no time, then, before we even
had an act going in which Rover, a beautiful growing German
shepherd dog, began licking Susie's cunt in public. It was a real
crowd-pleaser, you can be sure.
Likewise, once seeing her get eaten by a dog, the crowds
weren't long in demanding that she be studded likewise. And I put
that possibility to her one night when Rover was old enough to do
something besides lick pussy.
Naturally, Susie flinched at the idea. We were in a dressing
room off a stage in a club we were playing, and outside, the crowd
was howling for an encore to the scene where I fucked her.
According to our act, we were supposed to return and I would eat
her in front of everybody. That's why I said to her, Rover
between us as she sat naked in her dressing table chair, her legs
apart, "What's the difference between me eating you and him
dicking you? A few minutes ago, he ate you. A few minutes before
that, I dicked you. Now I'm supposed to eat you. Why not let him
dick you."
She looked at me and then to Rover. If you had seen that
face somewhere in a crowd, you'd never have thought that she would
be the same girl who just now had come from having a dog eat her
in public. She was the picture of innocence. Her long red hair
flowed around her shoulders, and she might have been something
pure and virginal. Her eyes were the picture of innocence.
Nobody in the world, except those who had seen it done, would
believe she ever had been dicked and eaten in public.
Finally she said to me, "If you want me to do it, sweetheart,
I'll do it."
Dig that. Every broad says the same thing. They never do
anything because they want to do it. Oh hell no, or so they would
have you think. It's always because they're doing it for the man
they love. And for the man they love, as everybody knows, a cunt
will do anything. Oh yes, all for the man they love.
But I can play that game too. So I nodded, giving her the
answer to her unspoken question; and thus giving her too the
excuse she needed for what she really wanted to do. And I'll tell
you why I say that, too. Here's why:
On different occasions, when I would be out somewhere, I had
returned to find Susie playing with Rover's dong. That's right.
Even when he was just a puppy, she used to play with his birdie.
And once he started getting nuts, she practically never let him
alone any chance she got. I would come home and find them in bed
together or on the floor or even with him on a table in front of
her: and there she would be, playing prettily with his pork.
Women are that way. How many girls have you known that
played with their little brother's pricks when they were kids?
I've known plenty of them who, when they were in their teens and
knew what fucking was all about, would get their little eight or
nine or ten-year-old brothers into their beds with them and try to
get screwed. All in the family, you know; that kind of thing.
So I knew Susie was ready. That's why I said, "You can try
it out here first in the dressing room, hon, to see if it's a good
act. Get on the floor, and let him straddle you. We can find out
if it'll work."
She looked at me, but only for a second, and then she dropped
to the floor as casually as you please, turned her ass to Rover,
went onto her hands and knees, spread her thighs, and looked
between her legs at the dog. "Nice Rover," she said, and put on a
sick little smile and wiggled her can at him.
The dog sniffed her twat. He began licking it as he had done
in the previous act before the group when, lying on her back and
with her legs spread, he had sucked her off with his long tongue.
Now he was doing the same thing while she knelt before him. "Help
him," she finally told me, all on her own. "Show him how to go on
top of me."
"Play with his dick," I said. "Then turn around again. I
think he'll top you by himself, then. Go ahead; play with his
cock."
She turned on the floor, squatted before her dressing table,
and pulled him to her. Making him sit up as he had been trained,
she began jerking his cock up and down. Soon he had a massive
rod, and he would have fucked anything in sight. She then went
back onto her knees and wiggled her can at him again. He did what
all dogs do when they're that far along. He climbed her rump,
gripped her hips with his paws, panted wildly, and sent his big
dick into her bun. And soon his tongue was hanging out because he
was so happy from it all.
I had a helluva time pulling him off. He growled and tried
to bite me. But Susie got away from him, then knelt before him
and hugged him, tears in her stupid eyes, and promised him she
would give him everything "in a couple of minutes." She sobbed.
"I'll give you what you want," she blubbered, hugging him. "In a
couple of minutes, sweetheart, I'll give you everything."
Broads want to feel sorry for themselves. They want to feel
imposed upon. They want to be disgraced and degraded, hurt, and
mocked. They love to be punished. It's part of their nature. If
you know how a broad's mind works, you can get them to do
anything, and, though they'll feel terribly afflicted, they'll do
it all; just to feel that affliction. Stupid bitches.
So Susie, innocent Susie who once only had screwed her old
boyfriend when I came into her life, went out onto that floor,
among all the men in that room, leading Rover on a leash; she,
bare-ass and with her beautiful tits bouncing, Rover with the
hard-on of his life. She beamed right and left shyly, and Rover
panted, his big tongue hanging out. Then she took a place
directly in the middle of the room, rows of chairs loaded with
drooling guys all around her, and she spread her legs, and let
Rover start licking her cunt again.
But that was just the start of the act. Next she sat up,
Indian fashion, and brought him to her and began jacking his dong
up and down. Finally she turned onto her knees and elbows, and
invited him to top her. He accepted the invitation and climbed
onto her rump exactly as he had in the dressing room. And then he
slipped his paws around her waist and shot his big dick solidly
into her cunt, and looked glazedly away, his tongue hanging out
and saliva dripping from it, and he plunged her solidly, humping
like crazy.
It was quite a performance, and it made me feel good to see
that bitch take it in her cunt that way. And repeating an old
act, I had done with another broad, before I ever started thinking
about acts-remember Sally?-I crawled in front of her and made her
suck me. It drove the crowd wild. Those bastards clapped like
crazy to see Susie sucking my yang while Rover studded her from
behind. And she, ever the good little girl, nibbled my cock
beautifully while she turned her can like crazy as Rover socked it
to her.
Soon we were all coming crazily. I was getting ready to
explode into Susie's mouth, she was wriggling like all hell at
Rover's dick, and that poor beast was panting like a sonofagun
with all his force going in and out of her. And all the while,
the crowd was going nuts.
Then we came down the line all the way, breaking everything
that held us, pounding ourselves one against the other
frantically, unloosing all within us. And the cream just shot out
of me, whole bucketsful into Susie's pert little mouth. At the
same time, Rover went out of his mind and sent everything he had
into Susie's hot twat; and he howled like a wolf at the moon. The
crowd went insane, damned nearly collapsing from the wild fun of
it all. And Susie moaned and sobbed from the juices she took
front and back as she was breaking loose with her own come. It
was tremendous, trust me.
They wanted an encore. The crowd never had seen anything
like it. They wanted the encore immediately. "More, more," they
yelled, unable to control themselves. "Give us more. We want
more." And they demanded that it be repeated.
I asked for time out, and Susie and I took Rover to the
dressing room for a conference. "What do you suggest?" I asked
her. "They'll pay. Those guys are hot for action. They'll pay
anything."
She looked mournfully at me. You'd think she never had
wanted to do anything. That's the way with a broad. They'll
humiliate themselves in every possible way, but they'll always
behave like they had nothing to do with it. All through history,
women have been subjecting themselves to the worst kinds of
humiliation; and all through history, they've been pretending they
had nothing to do with it. "I don't know," she said. "Whatever
you think."
I hated that bitch. If there's one thing I like it's
honesty. And there's no broad in the world who is really honest.
They all hide behind the modesty act. They're hypocrites, every
one of them. That's probably why I said, "Well, let's just switch
the act. Instead of Rover fucking you, I'll stud. And you can
suck him off. How's that sound?"
She shrugged. I hated her guts worse than ever. "All
right," she said dumbly like she had no control over her fate.
"If you want me to."
Bullshit. She was full of bullshit. If I wanted her to!
That kind of shit. "Okay, baby," I said, stroking her cheek.
"You're swell." And I hardly had something else planned for that
bitch, believe me.
Meanwhile, we went back in front of the group again, and we
reversed our act. Susie went onto her knees again, hefted her can
up in the air, and I crawled against it, and played at her vag's
lips with my prime cock. Then Rover went around her, and she sat
him up the way we had trained him and she started running her
fingers up and down his dong. He sat there with a glazed
expression in his eyes, and soon his peter was forcing its big
long red head out of his sack. He was going nuts, and was panting
and even moaned and howled a couple of times from the fabulous
feeling she was giving him.
I inserted my rod to her cunt. Her cunt was soaked from
Rover's juices, and she was a moist run. A cunt is best when it's
tight. A broad should clean her vag after a fucking. Otherwise,
she's too slippery and there's no grab in her snatch. But my pork
was big enough so it pressed against her walls, anyway, and there
was enough suction for the fuck. And I started plugging her slit
while she went down on Rover's prick.
The crowd again went wild. They had never seen any thing
like it. "Gobble it, honey," they chorused. "Gobble that dog's
prick. Gobble it all the way."
She obliged. Low on her elbows she pulled Rover close and
played her tongue slowly and gently in a wild little roll at his
dick. It gave me the hots just to watch her mouth his yang, and I
sent a solid drive into her cunt. My shaft was enormous, and I
couldn't get enough of her wild hot snatch. I pounded her
solidly, and felt the juices spilling up again in my groin. My
gut ached, and all I could think of was sending my stuff up her
hole, all the way to eternity. I wanted to cream her belly, send
it to her lungs, smear her brains with it, blow out her skull with
my load. It was a wild feeling, believe me.
And then she must have gotten hot from sucking Rover's dong
or from my fucking or from both, because she started turning her
ass like a crazy out-of-kilter gyroscope, lurching and looming,
soaring and zooming, swinging it around like a lantern in a stormy
night. And she was sucking Rover's yang better than ever. As I
watched her over her shoulders, seeing her going up and down on
that crimson cap he gave her, seeing his paws over her own
shoulders as he sat up with his glazed eyes on me, his tongue
hanging long from his mouth, spittle dropping in loads from it, I
went as crazy as she did. And I began the last full measure of my
drive to eternity inside her.
Before another minute passed, we all went wild, and I felt
the new jism pouring out of me like tea from a spilling kettle,
creaming her void with a solid plunging that just wouldn't stop as
I sent everything in a barrelful of loads up her hole. And she
went insane in that same minute, rocking her ass for all it was
worth, that crazy gyroscope going mad all the way. And then Rover
had his own second wild come, too, and exploded cream madly to her
mouth. When she couldn't swallow it all, some of it seeping away
from her lips and from his cock at the same time, it drove me nuts
to see it dribbling from her lips, oozing from her mouth at the
same time it spilled over from his red long head. I went insane,
just seeing that dog's come all over the place. And I barreled
everything from my very belly into her that minute, coming like I
never had come in my life. It was tremendous all the way.
Naturally the crowd went insane, too. They never had known
anything like it, and they wanted more and more and more of it.
"More, more, more," they were yelling even while we all were still
coming. "Give us more. We want more. Don't stop now. Go on and
on and on. Give us more. More, more, more." And they stomped
and clapped and whistled and howled. They were berserk.
Afterwards, when I had pulled my spent dick from her soaked and
dripping hole, when Susie had let loose Rover's own petered prick,
when we all had started from the room again, they followed us,
several of them, and the implored me, begged and beseeched me, to
put on another act. And then one of them pulled me aside, and
whispered, "Look," and, letting Susie go limply ahead of us with
Rover to the dressing room he continued, "what about the broad?
Will she put out? I mean for the crew. We'll pay good money if
you set a line-up. Are you interested? Could you like something
like that?"
I looked at him. It was something always in the back of my
mind. I don't know why I never ventured it myself. But I hadn't.
Now it was out in the open. "You want to lay her?" I said and
jerked a thumb to bare-ass Susie who was limply climbing the steps
to the stage dressing room with Rover smelling her asshole and
cunt while he followed her.
Several of the guys then around me, nodded. "Yeah," one of
them said. "We'd like to dick her. We'll pay good money."
"We can dick her in the dressing room," and another said.
"We can line up outside the door and she can take us one at a
time, if she wants the privacy."
They all laughed. "What about it?" the first guy asked me.
I nodded. "I'll see what she thinks," I said, and turned
away. "I think maybe she'll go for it-if the money's right." And
I started to the dressing room.
"The money'll be right," another said. "It'll be the best.
And see if she'll suck off that hound while she's screwing us."
And they all laughed.
"Yeah," several of them called. "Let's have her lick the dog
while she studs us." And that really turned them on.
I talked to her in the dressing room. I put the proposition
to her. "It's good money,?" I said. "You couldn't get anything
better. All you have to do is let them screw you the same way I
did, and suck Rover off while you're doing it."
She looked at me. For awhile she said nothing. A cloud was
over her eyes, and I didn't like what I saw. Finally she said, "I
used to think you loved me." She said nothing else. She just
stared at me awhile longer, and then she turned away and looked to
herself in the mirror. Rover was beside her, panting happily, and
he saw her in that mirror, too.
"You won't, huh?" I said, knowing a final answer when I heard
it, determined never to be caught in a beg. I said only that and
stared at her through the mirror.
She didn't look at me, but patted the dog's head, rubbed his
fur smoothly, andl watched what she did through that glass. Then
she shook her head. It was a final answer all right.
I turned away, left the room, went back to the guys, told
them the answer, and said I was damned sorry. "Maybe another
time," I said, and was already thinking ahead. "Maybe another
time."
They begged me, grovelers all, and I had to put them off,
knowing I wouldn't try to pass along the beg to her. I simply
repeated, "Maybe another time," left them, and knew what I was
going to do.
That night, on the outskirts of that town, I beat the shit
out of her. That's right. I stopped just past a truck joint,
turned off the road and went into some hills, made her get out of
the car, and proceeded to pound the living hell out of her. She
bawled and tried to run away, and I tripped her and fell on her
and savagely fucked her, ripping away her clothes while I went at
her body. And all the while I pounded her cunt with my dick while
I was beating the shit out of her tits with my fists. And I
kicked her in the face when I was done while she bawled when I
came off her. All the while Rover, chained to the back seat,
howled.
I unleashed him and told him to lick her twat. He performed
the act exactly as he had been trained. He licked her twat while
she lay there, bawling; and then I drove away, looking at the
scene a minute in my headlights, and then skidding the vehicle on
two wheels away, and not giving a shit for her in the least. Let
them find her in the morning. The big dealers in the town would
know who she was. They could do something for her. Maybe one of
them might even marry the bitch. Who knows? I couldn't care
less.
And I got the hell out of there.
Chapter 7
I went on the bum again, traveling from town to town,
figuring what I would do. I didn't give a shit. I had plenty of
dough from the hustling I'd done across the years, and I couldn't
care less for anything. I just decided to pass the time. All the
while, though, I was figuring things out, thinking what I'd do
next, making plans for the future. And finally I decided to move
in on some new cunt territory, as the saying might be, when I felt
like moving.
I spotted her one day in the rush hour in a town I was
driving through. She was a big girl, something nice. I liked the
way she carried herself. She wore tennis shoes, little red things
with a white trim, and hose, and had a short skirt and it was
tight and really made her ass come on big. She wore a frilly blue
blouses and her hair was just average and nothing special in the
coiffure department. She was sort of reddish-brown, and her face
was all peaches-and-cream. I estimated her to be about twenty or
maybe twenty-one at the most, and I figured she belonged to a
junior college a couple of blocks away that I had passed.
So I circled the block and decided how I would make the pass.
There's one thing that doesn't always work, and more guys should
know it; that's the business of pulling in close by the curb and
asking them if they want a ride. For one thing, too many mamas
have warned their little girls to beware of accepting rides with
strangers. It actually goes back to their childhood, and it's a
hang-up with them. They refuse you nine times out of ten if
they're the good girl type.
Note that: I call it a type. It doesn't mean they really are
good girls. For my money, no good girls exist. The same broads
who won't accept a ride with you when you're in the car meeting
them for the first time are the same broads who will accept that
same ride if they meet you otherwise and talk with you no more
than maybe a couple of minutes.
That's why you've got to go on foot if you want to make out
with that type. I pulled into a spot off the street where I saw
her, swinging around the block and almost returning to the scene
of the first passing. Then I went right behind her, eyed her legs
perfectly; she was a beautiful creature, big-boned and nice in
every way; and then figured on the way I would make the pass.
A traffic signal is always perfect for the meeting. If you
both happen up to it at the same time, and there aren't too many
people around, things work out perfectly sometimes. For instance,
you can say something about the length of time it takes for a
light to change. Or if it's one of those crossings where the
pedestrian has to push a button for a "Walk" signal, you can ask
her if she's already pushed it. Or you can make a comment on the
outfit she's wearing. There are all kinds of possibilities.
I met her at such a signal, and tried for the maximum. It's
shock value sometimes that counts. So I led off with a bangeroo.
"You've got nice legs," I said, as sweet as you please.
She blinked. She flushed. She didn't know what to say. Her
big blue eyes just popped, and finally she said dumbly, "Well,
thank you." And she flustered some more.
I ran it for all it was worth. "Have you ever appeared in
any magazines?" She didn't know what I meant, blinked again,
shifted position, looked to the light, and I could tell that her
heart was pounding at eighty per. "I thought I've seen your
picture in some men's magazines. Haven't I?"
She shook her head, unable to say anything. She knew damned
well I was loading it on, and yet I knew she was intrigued. After
all, I happen to know this: it's the secret ambition of every
broad to get into a girlie mag. That's right. Oh they might say
it's shameful and disgusting the way those girls "prostitute"
themselves-that's the righteous ones' words, if and when they say
anything about it-but secretly they all want the same thing for
themselves. And they'll do anything to show their bodies off for
a guy, I know.
So I kept running it all the way. "Or maybe it was a topless
bar," I said, knowing I was pushing it to the limits. For, I
knew, she was wise that I was piling it on. But I was counting on
her natural woman's vanity to tide me over. They all want to take
off their clothes for men, want to think their tits are the
greatest in the world, want to believe they have the most
beautiful stems around the countryside. And they'll listen to you
even when they know you're putting it so high that a shit
collector couldn't shovel it all away in a month of Saturdays.
She shook her head again nervously and concentrated on the
signal. It didn't change, and the passing traffic forbade her
from going against the light. I had the scene all to myself.
"Well," I said, "are you interested in modeling?"
She looked at me again. She was suspicious, and yet she was
biting the bait. I could see it gently locking itself in place in
her sweet cheek. And I added, "I don't have a card with me to
introduce myself, but I would very much like to have you model for
me if you're interested. I do some things that you'd enjoy
seeing, I'm sure."
"You're a photographer?" she asked, starting to get with it
at last.
I nodded. I knew she was biting. There's one thing in our
day and age that turns broads on and that's thinking they might be
considered for the sex scene. Though they're suspicious of the
line, they still like to explore it. Everyone of them dreams of
being "discovered" somehow or other, even if they have no dramatic
ambitions in the world. And all of them want to show off their
bodies. They'll pose for pennies if they think it will get
pictures of them in magazines. They're crazy. All they have from
it is a lot of photos of themselves afterwards, but I suppose a
lot of women want to grow old and remember the good tits they had
when they were young.
Anyway, I pushed the proposition, and it carried us across
that street when the light changed. We talked about the
possibilities, and she said she might be interested. I asked for
her address, she hesitated, and finally she compromised by giving
me a number to call.
I don't like taking phone numbers. It's not that I think
broads will give me phony ones. That's not true. They usually
don't. They're not smart enough most of the time to compose wrong
digits. But they're dumb enough, especially when they're excited,
to put the numbers together assbackwards, and I end up getting the
local plant nursery instead of their home phones. So I was
suspicious, and I took the number, and decided to do my own
checking in the meanwhile. I left her discreetly, not pushing my
position, thanked her gentlemanly for her time and interest and
promised I would call her.
Then I dropped into the crowd away from her, watched from a
distance where she went in the shopping center where we parted,
and proceeded to cover her the rest of the way. I found out where
she lived by losing the afternoon following her that way through
several stores and the meeting with a couple of girl friends in a
drugstore, and finally went behind her to her house, noted the
address, and left. I had double protection, in other words. If
that bitch had put me on with a wrong number, I would follow up on
it, believe me, and see her at her house some way or other.
But the number was valid. I waited till the following
afternoon, taking a flop hotel room in that town, getting to know
the territory better, staking out things and making plans for that
broad. If everything worked well, it would be perfect. And when
I called her the next afternoon, though she wasn't home at the
time and her fruity-voiced mom answered, I found out the number
was a valid one, and I knew I was part way down the track.
Later I called her again, she was there, and we made a date
for the next afternoon to meet. You'll note that I didn't push
the time factor. That's important. Keep the broad on the string.
Never make a pest of yourself. And when you look like you have
something to offer, it works perfectly. Because then it makes
them anticipate seeing you again even more than you're thinking to
be with them. It juices the road ahead.
The following afternoon we met as planned at the same traffic
signal where we first had talked together. I purposely planned it
that way for the sentimental angle. Keep that in mind, too, if
you're working a broad. They're goofy as all hell, and if you can
line up a series of incidents that center around a certain event,
like the way both of you met each other, they'll build a lot of
crazy castles in their heads that work in your favor.
We went to a little cafe in the shopping center, too, where
we had left each other two days earlier, and we took a back booth
and talked about things, about her possibilities, about my
interests, about everything that would juice her up all the way.
For instance, we discussed her beauty. Every broad wants to
hear that kind of talk. If you make it very professional and tell
them how attractive they are objectively and all that shit,
they'll hang on your every word. They'll ask you all kinds of
stupid questions, pretending just to be interested in themselves
objectively, as I've said, and you can ply them with flattery till
it comes out their ears.
For instance, once that conversation got going, she wanted to
know why I thought her legs were so beautiful. I gave her back,
very gently, "Someone once said, 'It's not what a girl's legs look
like, but where they're going, that counts.'" I took a long
chance on that one, but it's important to move a little sex into
the conversation, too, because that teases cunts, too, never
forget.
"Oh?" she said. "Well, do you think ..." And she let her
sentence fall, playing the virgin act, of course, wanting to talk
more about where girls legs go, but hesitating because she didn't
want to look like she was the not-so-nice kind; bullshit.
"Let's face certain facts," I said very authoritatively. "A
man likes a woman because it's the natural thing. But beauty is
something that's definitely related to sex. A girl with pretty
legs always excites a man, because, frankly," and I hesitated,
making it look like I was really trying to phrase it another way,
"well, it just so happens that every man looks at every woman with
the thought in his mind of going to bed with her if he ever got
the chance."
She said nothing. She wanted to say something, I could see,
but she just sipped her soft drink, and looked at me. She was
almost there, I knew, almost down the track; but she was still in
the virgin act.
"I'm going to ask you something very personal," I said then,
again trying for the long ball, not wanting to waste time and yet
knowing a little daring-do sometimes can work wonders. "Would you
tell me something quite honestly if I asked you?"
She shrugged. "It depends what you want to know," she said,
trying to be funny.
"Well, never mind." I tossed it aside. But not really.
Because she bit immediately and insisted I tell her what I wanted
to know. So I came back again with a little hesitation and then a
blurt in which I said, my eyes solidly and most sincerely on her,
"Would you tell me frankly if you've ever done it with a boy?"
That's a tough question to bring off, and many a man
hesitates to say it, fear. And yet it's a question that brings
results more often than you might think. It has a kind of shock
value that hardly can be matched by any other conversational
gambit.
For instance, it set Lucy-that was her name-back immediately.
She did the old blinking act, actually hit by it, and swallowed
nervously, and flushed, and lost control of the situation. That's
one reason for asking the question; a girl is never quite the same
once it's been asked. She wants control of the situation, though,
and she falls further into the trap because she does.
You see they always answer it some way or other. And,
because they're in a conversational situation, having met with you
on their own, they can't very well get up and leave. So they
answer your question, nervous and not prepared for it, and yet
determined to get control of the situation again, determined also
not to be considered anything square even though, a minute before,
they might have wanted you to think their shit didn't stink. So
they always tell the truth.
Oh they won't admit they fuck like minks, maybe, if that's
the kind they are. But, if you've caught one of the good girl
types, they'll always admit at least that they've fucked. And
since you're working to break down the good girl type, their
answering you with that truth is just what you want. It moves the
barrier down just a strong bit more.
She admitted she had laid a boy. But she came right back,
saying, somewhat agitatedly, but really just to control the
situation, "But why does it matter? What's the point of your
question?"
They never gain control again once they've been faced with
that question, though, and you needn't worry about their anger.
They want to know an answer only to put themselves at ease, not
really to hurt you. That's why I said, according to the formula,
"Well, in my business, a girl performs best if she's experienced
sex." It's straight flattery.
But it works every time. Girls want to be experienced
nowadays. They want to feel "in" on things. Though they would
like you to think their pee doesn't have a urine odor, they still
want to be experienced; so they'll confess that their pee really
stinks, if it helps their cause as they see their cause to be.
"Oh?" she said. "I didn't know that." And I could see she
was fishing on a new situation.
"Sure," I answered. "If you've known sex, you know how to
handle a situation. For instance, you know how to put into your
pose all the charm that only an experienced woman can show. I
noted that right away with you, the way you walked everything
about you. But I just had to know. Please excuse me."
"Oh, think nothing of it," she said with a feeling of being
in control again. But, of course, she wasn't.
And I made sure she wasn't when next I said to her, "Tell me?
what's your favorite position?"
It floored her again. She gulped, and then laughed, and
tried to make it a big joke, saying that I surely was nosy and all
that. But she answered, nevertheless, telling me that she liked
"all kinds of positions." Big deal. She probably hadn't done
anything except the missionary one, on her back, and that was all.
But I said, "That's great. It helps in this business.
You'll be able to convince anybody then in any pose."
So it went. She was turned on. We discussed all kinds of
things about her beauty and about sex and everything right down
the line, but not making it supposedly dirty and all that. For
instance, I hinted at the fact that she excited me, but I never
descended to an outright statement of fact. Oh no; it was all
very professional.
So our relationship began, and we started seeing each other
regularly, discussing other aspects of her future career.
Naturally I didn't bring anything directly into play about when or
where she would start that career, and that gave her a sense of
freedom from pressure which permitted her to be the big deal
without taking any risks; in other words, she didn't have to put
her money where her mouth was-yet.
Then we went into a courtship, and it passed beautifully that
way, starting at first with a few afternoon dates that lingered
into the evening and ended with dinner somewhere before I took her
home, finally went into late dates before she got back to her
house, and then became a steady night diet of courtship. It
wasn't that we had forgotten our first purpose; rather I was
juicing her all the way, making her dependent on my attention,
making her go the full route.
And then one night she said, as she had said various times
during our time together, "Well, when are you ever going to ask me
to take my clothes off, anyway?"
I hadn't even put the make on her sexually until then, I
should let you know. This was to be a masterful seduction, one
that would pay off all the way. So I hadn't done a thing besides
a few well-turned kisses. Oh, we had talked enough about sex all
the time, in some way or other, to keep her turned on, but nothing
more. I was working a time schedule, trust me.
That was why I then told her, "I can't, Lucy. I'm sorry, but
I can't. I love you too much to share you with anybody else."
She looked at me in the car where we were parked on a rise
high above the city. Below and away from us sprawled the plain,
and it was strung with lights, like a Christmas tree turned on its
side and blazing forever. "What do you mean, Ace?" she asked in
that hesitant little voice that girls always have when they think
they're hearing something they very much always want to hear.
There's nothing that gets to a broad faster and more solidly than
the thought on such a victory!
I played out the game. I led her down the path. I told her
how much I cared for her. And then I said I was going away
because I couldn't face even bringing myself to doing anything to
her.
Between a sudden fright at the thought of my leaving and a
certain intrigue at what I might want to do with her besides
professionally posing her, Lucy bit the bait I strung out for her,
and it wasn't long before she was pleading that I stay and do
anything I wanted to do with her. I was sure she would have let
me undress her in that vehicle right then if I had wanted to do
so, if only to feast my eyes or do anything else I wanted to do
with her terrific body.
But I had other plans, and I played my cards close to my
chest, and finally left her with the promise to call her the next
day and let her know if I was leaving or staying. She parted
tearfully and in a fright. And I measured the situation and was
sure she was ready for the next step.
It came with the phone call the next afternoon I set up a
date for us to meet, and said it was the last time we probably
would see each other. She pleaded with me that such not be so,
consented immediately to see me as planned, and then came
tearfully for the get-together. It was then, casually, when the
time was ripe and we were into the session awhile, that I
suggested she go away with me if she really cared for me.
Naturally she hesitated. In the past I had moved
conversations in that direction, and we had mentioned the prospect
in passing most briefly, but never had confronted its likelihood
thoroughly. Now I worked it to that point. She hesitated, and
then finally said she was willing. I withdrew the offer
immediately. She insisted that I take her along. I said we
couldn't get married. She hesitated again, but finally said she
would come with me regardless of whether we married. We batted
that ball back and forth across the conversational net several
minutes, her insisting, me declining. And finally I accepted her
bid. She became frightened when she saw how far into the trap she
had fallen. But not knowing it was a trap, and being involved
with her pride, she ran it out all the way and we made plans to
leave the same night.
There was, of course, the problem of her mother; but we
surmounted that when we lied and said we were going away to get
married. I knew it was a weak ploy, and mothers don't like the
idea often of seeing their daughters heading for a shack job. But
sometimes mamas will yield if they think their daughters are
making a good catch; her mother was the grubby kind and always had
thought I was a good deal once I appeared on the scene. So it
played right into my hands again, and we got the hell out of there
that night with the old lady's profound wishes for our happiness
and early return.
Together we slept at a motel that night, and still I didn't
do anything to her. Though I had insisted we stay in separate
rooms, played the gentleman all the way, she wanted us to register
as man and wife. I did, and she actually undressed for me. She
was a beautiful thing, believe me. She wore the same outfit, for
sentimental purposes, that she had worn the day we met. I watched
her slip off those tennis shoes; saw her raise her skirt as she
sat at a vanity table, turned away from the mirror; and saw her
unsnap her garter belt from her stocking tops, and I wanted to go
through the ceiling.
Then she rolled down those stockings, pulled them off, and
dropped them to her shoes. Standing, she began unbuttoning her
blouse, and revealed a black lace bra. Her white crests were full
and big in that cloth, and I wanted badly to hold them, to suck
them, and love them. She was a terrific prize, I assure you. And
when she zipped down her skirt and stepped from it after removing
her blouse, and revealed herself in black nylon panties that
matched her bra, I wanted to cream my drawers. She was a
marvelous thing, something the Greek sculptors would have slit
each other's throats to have pose for them. She put Venus de Milo
to shame, but definitely.
Then she came to me where I lay on the bed, looking at her,
unable to look away despite my determination to do so. And she
asked me to unhook her bra. I rose from the bed and did as she
bade. She shivered when I touched the flesh of her back at the
cross-band, and my fingers sent a tingling feeling through my body
just from coming in contact with that flesh. Then she slipped
away her bra, dropping it over her shoulders and leaning forward
and letting its cups fall from her lovely big and firm breasts.
She walked across the room and dropped the bra to her other
clothes.
Turning, she began slipping away her panties, rolling them
slowly and gently over her well-molded belly flesh. I looked at
those orbs now in full view even while I peered at her belly, and
my prick was a solid rock in my trousers. I went onto the bed
again, but now didn't lie down. I sat there and tried to cross my
legs. She was working against my plan. It was my intention to
make her ready by not juicing her vag. And she was running me out
on my own plan, making me want to abandon everything just to hold
that flesh in my hands and know the good feeling of my rock in her
vag. It was driving me out of my mind.
Then I saw her pussy, a brown-reddish thing to match her
other hair, and it was big and furry and popped out beautifully as
she slipped her panties down over it. She definitely was putting
the tease on me, and she even gave me a little hesitant smile to
go with it. All I could do was return the smile and say nothing.
I just watched her.
She had beautiful legs, full and round and long and lovely.
She was a big girl, and I really went for her. There was curve to
her, everywhere. Her whole body was a series of well-carved
curves. Flesh abounded and yet was taut and perfect, smooth and
wondrous. A certain vibrancy came off her body, and enticed me.
Her breasts were solid and her aureoles were wide and full. Her
nipples were taut and they beckoned me. And her pussy was
glorious as she lifted one leg from her pants, and then lowered it
casually to the floor as she raised her other leg to draw away
that band of nylon, and she tossed it to the heap of other
clothes.
"I'm ready," she said then, standing momentarily before me,
her hands to her side and slightly away from her flanks in a neat
little pose. "Are you ready for me?" And she started to me on
that bed.
"I told you there would be nothing," I said. "I told you we
would go someplace else first."
"We are already someplace else," she said. "Oh, Ace, I can't
stand it any longer. I can't stand it another minute." And she
came to me on the bed, fell to her knees before me, and rested her
elbows to my lap, looked up to me beggingly, and whispered,
"Please, Ace. I can't stand it any longer at all."
I looked down at her. The contact of her flesh to me, her
elbows to my knees, her body near me, drove me insane. My dick
was throbbing. My gut was aching. I felt cream surging in my
balls, wanting and demanding to be released.
"I'll do anything," she said. "I'll do anything. Please let
me do anything to make you happy. Anything."
I shook my head. I knew I had to see it through on my terms.
I definitely couldn't let anything happen. I wanted to bring that
bitch all the way down the line. I had big plans, and she mustn't
upset them.
Yet I wanted to drive her out of her mind, and show her I
could control her, show her that sex couldn't move me the way she
thought it could. That's something you have to show a broad
sometimes. They have the idea, and often rightfully so, that the
mere sight or feel or nearness of their flesh can turn a man on
and that they can have just about anything they want if they
handle their bodies right. You've got to show them once in awhile
that such is not true. I felt it was the time for that with her.
So I brought her onto the bed with a terrific embrace and we
sank our tongues together as she tried rolling her body against
me, her pussy at my trousers, her tits at my chest, her warm flesh
practically wrestling all over me. And I began working her
snatch, moving fingers back and forth in its wet world; she was
solidly soaked already, and that was a good sign, too, for what I
had in mind. I needed a broad that wanted to fuck more than
anything else in the world, and I was sure I had one.
So I juiced her more, and she turned in every direction on
that bed, and was struggling like crazy to get at my cock so she
could play with it. But I kept moving in such a way that she
couldn't find it directly, and she was too lost in her own good
time to protest much; after all, she was sure that I would send my
yang into her the minute I thought she was fully primed for the
ride.
But I had other plans. So I kept at her vag, finally working
up four fingers and a thumb, and managed to get a whole hand
inside her. I turned it to a fist and began pumping her with it.
She moaned and turned onto her back and spread her legs and shut
tightly her eyes and held me and begged that I go all the way to
the roof of her cunt. She practically had forgotten that she
wanted a dick in her slit. Which was all right with me.
I began punching that fist up her hole, moving it perfectly,
giving her plenty of action. Her cunt juice soaked it, and the
ride was smooth; very little friction, and I felt my fist go up
and down the walls of her hot and wet twat. Soon I brought her to
a wild good come. She rocked and rolled and went insane. She
moaned to the stars. She was crazy all over me, totally insane
from my powering fist-fuck.
And I knew the next step was ready. It wouldn't be long.
Chapter 8
Soon we were making the rounds I'd gone with the previous
bitch, Susie. We were hitting the stage shows, and sweet and
innocent Lucy was doing exactly the same thing as Susie had done,
letting herself be fucked in front of a hall full of guys, taking
me in her cunt or mouth, putting on the performance exactly as I
knew she would from the minute I first marked her.
There was the dog, too. I got Rover out of a kennel where I
had kept him during most of my travels. He was a lot older, and
had forgotten what cunt was about. But the minute he was lined up
with the stuff, his memory came back, and he smelled and licked
like the Rover of old. Lucy loved his dick in her twat, too,
though at first she pretended to think it was simply dreadful that
I should ever want her to fuck a dog.
So Rover and I put on the old act for the troops wherever
they booked us, and the crowds went wild. Yet I wanted something
more, had determined I would have something more even in the first
time I had spotted Lucy on that street that afternoon in her home
town. And the "something different" came one day in the example
of Esel.
That was the donkey's name. He was a beautiful little thing,
like something left over from a Walt Disney cartoon. He was a
kind of little butterball and cute as they come. And he came,
too. Let me tell you about that.
When I brought him home one evening to the house we occupied
on the edge of the town where we were living for awhile and from
which we traveled to other towns in the area, Lucy was surprised.
"Whatever on earth are you doing with a mule?" she asked, looking
at Esel and bemused by his cute appearance.
"It's a donkey," I corrected. "A mule can't fuck."
She didn't know what I meant, but accepted it scientifically.
After all, that's the definition of a mule, isn't it? And
besides, she was intrigued by the animal, and spent a lot of time
with it.
That night I said to her "Suppose Esel fucked you." We were
in bed and I had my fist up her hole, banging hell out of her. It
was something I never had let her lose the feel of. I believe in
hooking a broad on a habit; and with Lucy, it was for a purpose I
never had stopped planning.
"Esel fuck me?" she said dumbly even while her eyes were
glazed and while she was humping my fist like a madwoman. Yet she
had time to think of that, see? So I knew the mark was ready.
"Sure," I said, "it's no different than fucking a fist. It's
the same thing-except it's with a dick. Besides, you've screwed
Rover. So you know something about animals."
She said nothing, but ran through a come wildly. Then,
exhausted, slowly recuperating, she looked to me, my fists still
in her wet hot runt. "Are you thinking about the act?" she asked
me in a sly way, yet one in which she revealed she knew exactly
what I was thinking.
"Would you mind?" I said.
"Whatever you think, Ace," she gave me back. There it was: a
broad's old excuse. Whatever the guy thinks is what she'll do.
Bullshit. I knew damned well she wanted to screw that donkey, and
she wanted to screw him badly.
There was a reason for that. As I've said, I never stopped
fucking her with my fist. Oh, I had topped her with my peter, and
we performed with my peter and not my fist in the acts in front of
groups. But I knew she didn't half as much enjoy my dick as she
did my fist. I had arranged it exactly so that she never should
like anything better than my fist. I wanted her to want a
donkey's dong. And I knew now that she was wanting exactly that.
"Let's bring him into the bedroom," I said, getting off the
rack. "What the hell. Let's have some fun." And I went to the
backyard where we had that animal tied. Bringing him back, I
said, standing him beside the bed, seeing ourselves with the
donkey in a set of mirrors we had around our bed to look at
ourselves, "Play with his dong, Luce. Have fun with his dong
awhile."
She looked at me but only for a second. It was a suggestion
she wanted to hear. And she rolled to the edge of the bed, went
under him with a hand and began creasing his dick's tip. It
wasn't long before Esel had a hard-on to rock a continent. She
was amazed at its size. "It's the biggest thing I've ever seen,"
she gushed. And she kept right on giving it the treatment. She
loved it. Her eyes went big, and I could see her drooling. She
wanted nothing better than to have his pork in her mouth.
But I didn't want that yet. I wanted her to anticipate
fucking him. I wanted to build her guts to a solid groan from the
thoughts of having his enormous yang in her hole. So I told her
we wouldn't have them fuck yet. Instead we would do something
else.
"But how will I know how it feels if I don't try him?" she
asked like a little girl wheedling a nickel for an all-day sucker.
"If I have to fuck him in front of the clubs, I ought to know how
it feels."
"No," I said. "Suck him off if you want to. But no fucking.
Not yet."
"Suck him off?" The thought amused her, and she grinned big
as she looked at that fantastic long cock hanging from his
scrotum. And then she simply rolled off the bed and went beneath
him. She didn't need another word. She lapped at his dick while
she held its gigantic root, and she lipped and licked it this way
and that. Esel's rod grew even greater, and he began pawing the
carpet and making crazy little neighing sounds as he threw back
his head and turned slightly one way and the other.
She got under him on her knees, settling back on her shins,
gripped his rod with both her little hands, and then began a
thorough sucking job. His dick was too big to consume without
stretching her mouth to its maximum opening. And she was going
crazy from the pressure at the sides of her lips. It was
everything she ever wanted, and more. And she worked Esel's
gigantic rod for all it was worth.
She played fingers up and down its length, mouthed as much of
its head as she could, licked its red immensity in all directions,
lubed his cock with its pearly juice, and went crazy as he started
trying to fuck her. Finally, she told me to turn him so that he
went with his forepaws onto the bed while she sat against the bed
and sucked his dick. She turned so that her knees were raised,
her feet planted firmly against the floor, and she simply relaxed
against the bed while he proceeded to fuck her mouth.
And he rammed her solidly. He gave her everything that was
in him. He walloped that long cock again and again into her
mouth, and all the time he grunted and groaned from the obvious
good feeling her lips were giving him. She closed her eyes
meanwhile, placed her fingertips along his shaft, and simply let
him jam it to her mouth. Finally she practically gagged from the
way he plunged his rod into her mouth, and he started going like a
crazy beast solidly down her throat.
He came in a tremendous explosion, suddenly letting out a
wild neigh at the ceiling, losing his cool totally, and shot
everything in him to her mouth. And she loved it, of course. As
I knew she would, she swallowed everything that animal could give
her. She took it all, and you could see her gulping it down, just
swallowing every bit of donkey come. It was a sight to see.
Afterwards she nibbled Esel's dick and licked him clean,
going up and down his head, loving every last pearly drop of his
creamy big come. She licked that donkey like it was a kitten and
she was a cat. And she made him hard all over again, just from
her licking.
"Now please let me fuck him," she begged, his cock enormous
again. "Ace, we can't afford to waste something like this." She
wagged his frantic dick and made the whole thing a joke. But I
knew she wanted that pork in her bun badly.
"No," I said, leading Esel away, even while the animal
protested and balked. I beat his flank, and he kicked at the air,
and finally he only went when she went with him, playing with his
rod as we all went into the backyard and tied him up again. Then
nothing would do but she had to suck him, because that crazy beast
starters neighing madly when we tried to ditch the bastard. And
it all ended up with Lucy naked beneath him in that garden, their
forms outlined by the moonlight, as she brought him to another big
come down her throat. "Oh, he's so wonderful," she said,
afterwards, licking her lips where the come dribbled from them.
And she went back into the house looking like she had just found
the true faith.
Broads are crazy. They pretend they don't like anything
except what's right, and if you ever believed what a broad told
you about sex, you'd wonder how the world got populated the way it
did. But show a broad a cock straight on, and they'll grab it
every time. And when you show them two cocks, they'll grab the
biggest every time. So when Lucy didn't give a shit for my dick
after seeing that big dong Esel offered her, I knew everything
would work out perfectly when we performed for a group again the
following week. The only thing I would have to worry about was
the possibility Lucy might sneak out to the backyard for a quick
fuck when I wasn't looking.
But that never happened. And I spent the week, training Esel
to lick her cunt. We tied it up with her blow jobs on him, making
his blow jobs a reward for a good cunt licking. And Lucy would go
onto her knees exactly as she did whenever Rover licked her twat
or fucked her, and Esel would sniff around her hole, then start
lapping her with a huge tongue. Afterwards she would reward him
with a tongue job on his dong. "You're the greatest header in the
animal world," I said facetiously often.
She didn't mind. Oh, she said I had ruined her, brought her
to disgrace, and all that shit. But she went ahead, doing what
she always had done, anyway. And when the night of her first
donkey fuck neared, she became more and more excited, until, in
the dressing room that night, as the audience, having seen Esel
arrive, went wild with its own anticipation, she whispered to me,
"I'm so scared and happy, I'm almost peeing myself."
"You're coming definitely," I said, seeing her wet cunt hairs
as she sat naked before me, her legs spread and her fingers
sometimes massaging her twat.
Then we went out onto the floor for the big number. By
noising it around quietly ahead of time that they could expect
something special, I'd managed to get that damned hall more
crowded than, on previous trips to that particular town, I had
ever seen it before. The place was loaded, guys were standing ten
deep, and the room was full of smoke, everyone smoking probably
because they were so damned excited.
Then we paraded Esel to the center of the floor, Lucy went
onto her knees in front of him, and they both went to work. The
donkey tongued her twat nicely, really lapping her crotch. The
crowd went wild. They hooted and howled, behaved as if they'd go
through the ceiling on a vast track of sound, and loved everything
they saw.
She turned around when her first come had arrived, broke his
cunt-lapping, and began tonguing his big yang. He responded as
always, wildly, pawing the floor, neighing, wanting badly to ride
to a come. Then, when, reflexively, he tried to raise his
forefeet onto something, as he had done in training sessions on
our bed at home, Lucy turned around, her behind to the animal, and
I placed his hooves on her back and readied him close in for the
action.
But the damndest thing happened. In his wild rush to enter
her, he started into the wrong hole. At first I tried to stop
him. But have you ever tried to stop a donkey when he makes up
his mind to do something? Besides, I suddenly saw the beauty of
it, and I even patted his ass, saying "Go to it, Esel boy, and the
best of luck."
She screamed. "No!!!!" she yelled. "Please, no!!" and she
went into a lurch, trying to break free from him. But I held her
tightly, and several of the guys in the crowd helped me, and Esel
went smack into her bunghole, ramming her fantastically. She
screamed again and again, damned near fainted but took that beast
up her can.
And in and in he went. It was unbelievable to watch. He
just kept driving his dick like a violent wedge deeper and deeper
into her behind, inserting his long hard thick yang up into her
bowels. Her screams truly were bloodcurdling, and she fell
forward, her cheek to the floor, unable to support herself on her
elbows more, so great was the strain.
And Esel just kept going higher and higher into her asshole.
It was unbelievable to watch how far he penetrated her. He just
kept going forever.
It was more beautiful than if I had planned it. The crowd
went absolutely insane. They clapped, shouted, hooted, hollered,
whistled, stomped, rose on their feet and went insane, wholly
insane. It was the most beautiful thing in the world.
Then the animal began withdrawing, pumping, shoving and
pulling back, ramming her and pulling away, savagely rocking her
ass with that immense prick. He gave her everything there was to
give, and she finally fainted. She couldn't stand it any longer,
and in the middle of a yell, she fainted, him solidly in a new
plunge all the way into her intestine.
I kicked her for fainting. I kicked her face hard. "Bitch,"
I shouted. "The least you could have done was stay conscious.
You lousy bitch." And I kicked her again. The crowd loved it.
They loved seeing her kicked and fucked simultaneously, and some
of the guys who had been holding her tried kicking her too. They
went after her in a fury, and they bludgeoned her body with their
violence. It was a lovely sight to behold, trust me; truly
lovely.
Then we propped up her body so that Esel could continue his
fuck. And the animal did a great job. He walloped her bunghole
with everything he had in him, and he sent her sprawling with
every lunge so that we constantly had to prop her again for a new
lunge; and finally we simply held her while he moved to his come.
Talk about your comes, too. You never saw anything like what
he gave her. I guess it was tighter than he ever had known a hole
could be, and he must have been so overjoyed that, done his come,
he simply howled in the most chilling neigh in the world, baying
at the ceiling from his good joy. And then he began fucking her
again.
That's the truth. He wasn't done yet. In starting to pull
out from her, the friction was so great on his dong apparently
that he began all over again, banging her solidly for a new
coming, jazzing her with a fanaticism that belongs to the great
missionaries. He applied so much zeal into his task that he was
damned near human. And all the while we had to keep her propped.
It was fantastic.
And it still wasn't done. When Esel was finally out from her
asshole, the crowd, in a single yelp, came at me. "Let us, now,"
they yelled. "Let us now." And they were a mob, a fevering mob.
And several of the lead men even had their pricks out already
begging to stud her. I looked at that row of massive hardens at
the front of the mob, and I couldn't turn them away.
"Go to it,' I said, "and you have my blessings." I laughed.
Then, with the help of those others who had held her, we turned
her over onto her back. She was still unconscious. Somebody
brought water and threw it in her face. She woke. We spread her
legs. She looked up to see the first guy climbing down between
her thighs. She screamed and tried to force him away. I kicked
her face when she did that and her head flopped to one side, and
she went into a howl. The guy topped her, anyway.
They lined up to fuck her. I went down the row, taking a
price from each of them. They paid gladly the fee I named, and
they held their cocks waiting their turns. She fainted again, of
course, and they studded her while she was unconscious. One after
another they studded her, and each came to a wild good come. I
thought of all that jism piling up inside of her, and finally I
brought Esel back to the scene and had him lick her cunt clean
between a couple of takes.
But those guys didn't give a shit. All they wanted to do was
fuck her. They could care less whose come was already in her.
They sloshed around in their buddies' juices and had a helluva
good time. It was the greatest, believe me.
And then it was time to get rid of her. She had served her
purpose, and it was time to get rid of her.
Chapter 9
I wanted something different, anyway. After awhile you get
tired of all the goodie-goodie girls. You've prostituted the
bitches to that point where you know the score on every one of
them. You know their bullshit backward and forward. You know
they lie, and that they're not worth a good damn in hell. You
want something else to work on. Something to spice life a bit.
So I started prowling again. I drove here and there, eyeing
the quail, figuring what they were worth, making a bet with myself
how much it would take to make them; that is, money and time. How
little would I have to spend before I got into their boxes and how
soon could I make it? It was strictly a diversion while I worked
up my big plan.
Let me tell you right now, and I know you know this already:
it doesn't take long to make a cunt. It strictly depends on the
situation. And as far as money is concerned, the same thing holds
true. If the situation is right, you can be penniless; they'll
fuck.
Situation; that's the all-important thing, and I was always
trying to work out the right one. First, of course, it usually
helps if you've known them awhile. Dig that. Awhile! Five
minutes? Sometimes it doesn't take longer. But first, anyway,
you bullshit about some stupid thing that's supposed to be of
mutual interest. You talk about the weather or a movie or
something in the news. And then you take it from there with a
variety of ploys. It doesn't matter what you talk about; the road
ahead is already clear once you've made that initial
conversational breakthrough.
And you'd be surprised how many broads are dying to be talked
to. You sit beside them in the bus, and they pretend to be busy
with a book they're reading; and yet the minute you say something
to them, they're more than happy to forget all about that book and
concentrate on you. The same thing is true in libraries or in
parks or wherever the chance exists to line them up. They're all
willing and eager.
After that, it's situation again, pure and simple. Get them
in a close spot, alone, nobody knowing what's happening, and
they'll put out every time. It never fails. Oh, some of them
hesitate, and they all make like they're cherries who've never
seen a dick in their lives. But if you have a big yang waiting
for them, they'll take it, trust me, if the situation is right.
I've taken them in every possible place, I guess; on beds, on
floors, on chairs, against walls, in closets, in bathtubs, on
roofs, in garages; you name it, I've knocked it off there. And
it's the simplest thing in the world; and they never ask for
anything.
That's another thing that people don't sometimes realize. A
broad wants to be fucked first. Remember that. She leads you on
as long as she can lead you on. If you're sucker enough to invest
a small fortune just in order to get into her twat, she'll
probably let you spend that fortune. But if you lay down terms
early, she'll abide by them-providing that you come across with a
steel yang. She wants to be fucked. That's the final answer to
it all. And if you convince her early that you won't take shit
off her and that you want into her snatch right then, she'll flop
for you every time.
I met a chick in a real short dress one day. We were
standing in a drugstore, looking at a book rack. I said, "What do
girls wear such short dresses for?"
She looked at me. It threw her off-balance. I pursued her
fast, saying, "It makes a guy excited. Did you know that?"
She started away from me. I followed her. "I'm excited
about your legs right now," I said, "Did you know that?"
Now, you can see, that I was pressing my luck just about as
far as it can go. People are picked up for molesting broads on
less than that a lot of times. But I had something to show her
that proved I could do what she wanted. And I followed her into
an elevator that was in the same building, right outside the
drugstore in the lobby.
Luckily we were alone. "Please get away from me," she said,
making like she wanted to avoid me. Many a guy would quit at that
point, and that would be the end of it. But I pushed my luck: all
the way.
"Feel this," I said, the minute those doors closed. And I
had my dick out before she could say a word. She just stared at
it. "Feel it," I repeated. "Go ahead." And I knew I was taking
the biggest chance in the world.
But it paid off. She did feel it. Believe it or not, she
actually reached out and touched my dick. Oh she pretended that
she was afraid, and if anybody ever had caught us in the act, she
would have lied that I made her do it. But the point is, she felt
my dick. And I moved in on her, then.
Within seconds, while that automatic elevator climbed to the
highest floor, the button of which I had punched to insure a long
ride, I had her skirt up, her pants down, and had my rod into a
wet hot hole. Got that? She was wet and waiting already; Miss
Sweet-Smelling Shit was right there, ready for the act. Bitch.
Well, of course I didn't finish the fuck by the time we had
neared the top floor, so I threw on the Stop button, and we hung
on the cable between floors, and I went at her thoroughly. It was
a nice fuck, standing up, and I creamed her vag but good.
Afterwards she wanted to see me again, but I told her to go to
hell. "You're a cunt," I said, "and there are plenty of cunts
around. I never let myself get hung up on any one of them." And
I shoved a thumb up her vag and pained hell out of her.
That was one. There were others. One method I use is the
pick-up. Oh, I mentioned earlier that you don't get the goodie-
goodie types on a pick-up with a car. They have to be smoothed on
the street first, face-to-face; before they'll ride with you
anywhere. But there's a whole slew of broads who stand on corners
in crowded cities and thumb rides. Go after them, brother.
They'll fuck or suck you just about every time.
Oh, sometimes they'll refuse; I don't deny that. But figure
it this way: what have you got to lose for a few minutes of your
time. If you wanted to pursue them, eventually-and not long,
either-you could put the complete make on them. But when you're
driving somewhere, a quick fuck is all you're interested in: if it
doesn't show up with one, another will offer it to you. They're
all over the place.
So I always say to them, "Baby, you've got a nice mouth."
Or: "Sweetheart, your legs are beautiful." And before she has
much time to answer it, I push the situation further, saying, "I'd
like to do something with your mouth." Or: "legs." They get the
message early.
Then it's a simple matter of saying, "Are you willing to
suck?" Or: "fuck?" And we pull off the street somewhere and do
the same.
Sometimes they want money for it. In fact, you'd be
surprised how many cunts want money for it, especially among the
hitch-hikers. They've been spoiled by guys who are willing to pay
for it. I say this because, you see, the hitch-hiking broad is of
a certain breed. She's been shown all the dirty pictures that
guys carry with them in their cars to get broads like them hot.
She's been told all the dirty stories to juice them. And she's
been offered money for it. Above all, she's been offered money
for it.
So she becomes a professional hitch-hiker, figuring she'll
pick up a few bucks along the way, laying some guy who pays the
freight. And she figures every guy that picks her up will do the
same. But I always have news for them; we go somewhere, and I
promise to pay, afterwards-then give them a thumb up their holes
and tell them to scram. Can they bitch? To whom? They know what
they've done, know also what they've asked for doing what they've
done; so they keep their fucking mouths shut.
That's a laugh: fucking mouths. Many a time, trust me, they
do just that: fuck with their mouths -or let you fuck their
mouths. Those bitches will do anything. But what bitch won't?
And every cunt is a bitch.
That's why I got myself ready for a big new show. Oh, I'm
not talking about stag nights. I grew tired of them, and wanted a
new diversion. And I also had some idea about what I wanted. So
as I've said, I prowled the streets. And then one day I found my
mark.
Oh, she was a pissy thing. You could see that in the minute
you looked at her. I passed this swank apartment house, and there
she was, all dolled up with a real short skirt and a big mink
stole and she glared at me with that insolent look that rich
broads have. I knew she wasn't worth shit, but her money made her
think she was.
So you know what I did? I staked that place out. I checked
the address, then decided to find out about Miss Big Shit. I went
back the minute she was gone, and I asked the house manager who
she was. I said I thought she was a movie star living there and
was she So-and-So? He laughed, shook his head, thinking I was a
real dope, but went ahead and told me who she was. It was
perfect. I just had to go back and check the mailboxes in the
patio outside and I knew exactly what her apartment number was.
The next step was simple.
I appeared two days later, and rang her bell at the same time
as on the day that I saw her leaving again; she went somewhere at
the same time every morning, going away in a cab. I had an idea
she was seeing somebody. So I went in with different clothes, a
fake mustache and long sideburns, carried a toolbox and said I was
supposed to fix her TV; and could I have the key to her apartment.
The house manager was suspicious, maybe, and he thought about
the idea, but finally he gave me what I wanted. Then I took my
tools to her pad, waited awhile and returned to "get more tools at
my truck." No truck; no more tools. The house manager bit, went
on with his other work, and I went for a duplicate key to be made
at the nearest key-maker's. When I came back, I quit the job,
took my tools, and left, giving the house manager back his key and
thanking him cordially.
The next time I appeared, a few days later, I had a different
get-up, one with a false nose and a wig, and I just walked past
that nutty house manager as if I was a visitor to one of the pads
in that building. And I went right to her apartment, knowing she
wouldn't be home but wanting to accustom the house manager to my
sight. Always I left before she returned until the day I decided
to stick around when she came back.
I was in the closet in her bedroom, had myself tucked behind
some boxes and clothes she had in there, and heard her return to
the pad. Naturally she came into the bedroom, and I spotted her
from a narrow opening I had set up for that purpose, eyed her
undressing and liked everything I saw.
She was a haughty bitch even in the disrobing act, and she
pissed me with her arrogance. Yet she was a beautiful thing, a
bitch somewhere in her late twenties and with plenty of sex
written all over her. She was the willowy blonde kind, the long-
legged kind with a pair of big boobs, and everything about her
spelled class. I wanted to take that twat and twist it and say,
"You bitch, I've got you where the hair is short. Now, fuck!"
But I waited. I waited all the time, watching her peel away
her clothes; first her blouse, a yellow thing with plenty of
expensive frills; then her skirt, a mini piece that was expensive-
looking, too; then a frilly yellow see-through bra that revealed
big nipples; and finally yellow see-through nylon drawers which
showed her terrific big blonde bush. That's all she wore, that
bitch; and then she was out of a pair of gold heels, and was naked
in front of me.
I had a rock in my pants that wouldn't stop. My gut ached.
I felt juice piling up in my balls. I wanted to cream the
universe. She was the wildest good thing I ever had seen. A
beautiful fuck, I told myself, an absolutely magnificent fuck.
Then she left the room. She went across it and into a john
on its far side. From my place in the closet, I could see her
standing before a long mirror, and she was admiring herself, the
bitch. She was fluffing her bush, and rubbing her tits, examining
her nips, and then standing with her legs apart and throwing her
cooz up for inspection. And finally she stepped away from the
mirror and to a shower out-of-sight. I made up my mind to leave
that closet.
But I didn't intend to fuck her in that shower. Crazy? Not
necessarily. I didn't intend to fuck her at all in that place
that day. Maybe I wanted to tease myself awhile longer. Or maybe
I wanted to make her crawl the right way. In any case, I got the
hell out of that place while she was showering, left the building,
and planned to meet her the next day so that she could snub me.
That's right. I wanted her to snub me. I purposely planned
to speak to her outside her building while she waited for the cab
that would take her where she wanted to go. And I did just that.
She snubbed me, of course. She looked down her nose at me
and made like I was dirt. I pretended to be abashed, groveled
awhile, let myself be more abused, and finally got away from
there.
The next day I repeated the act. "Why do you bother me so?"
she haughtily raged. "Why don't you leave people alone?" And I
groveled again and finally was chased away. I did it a third day,
suffered the same consequences, and of course knew exactly what
next would happen.
That was when I delivered a plaster cast model of my dick to
her pad. You see, despite being rebuffed on those days, I still
went to her bedroom and watched everything she did. I learned all
there was to know about her habits, knew exactly what I have known
about all cunts-that they love more than anything else to fuck-and
proceeded on that assumption. And to enliven things I presented
her with a plaster cast of my dick.
I placed it on her vanity before she returned, then situated
myself in her closet and watched the fun. When she arrived, she
went through the usual act of undressing and admiring herself.
But this time, she also saw the plaster prick. I laughed to
myself as I saw her eyes go big in surprise. Then a quizzical
look took over, and she went close to it, probably wondering how
it possibly could have gotten there. And she even audibly
exclaimed, "How did-" but dropped her words and moved to that big
white cock on her vanity.
She picked it up hesitantly. My balls were there, too, and
she held it like you hold a pistol. Then she laid it in a palm of
one hand, and it protruded far beyond it. She shook her head in a
kind of silent amazement, and pursed her lips, then actually
sighed. But next she did what I thought she would do, the bitch.
Oh yes, she did what I thought she would do.
She took it to her twat. That's right. She was bare-ass,
and she placed it at her twat. See what I'm talking about? The
thought of how it got there wasn't as important as finding out how
it felt at her cunt lips. So she spread her legs, thrust out her
pussy at that mirror, and inserted the tip of the cock to her
cunt's lips, teasing herself with my mock-up disk. Bitch.
You guessed what she did next, I'm sure. She shoved it in
all the way. I could tell by the way she managed it, that she was
already wet and waiting. And she had no trouble inserting that
long pole to her twat. Oh, it didn't go all the way in; but she
took it up her hole as far as it would go. She liked the idea,
believe me, and a crazy little smile even crossed her lips as she
half-closed her eyes and watched herself in that mirror.
Then she began fucking herself, moving my long rod up and
down her cunt, arching herself so that, her head back, she could
squint through shuttered eyes at what she did to herself. She
loved watching it. And this was the same bitch who had given me
the snubs all the time. Dig that! Miss Snob was loving my fake
cock.
She couldn't stand it any more. She went onto the bed in
front of the vanity, spread her legs, half sat up, and continued
watching herself take that long yang into her wet vag. She began
to pant, and soon she fell back on the bed, her feet still on the
floor, and watched herself at a distance as she still fucked
herself. Finally, she lifted her legs in the air, hooked her
ankles as if to lock them around a guy dicking her, and began,
eyes now closed, to take my dick wildly up her hole.
I realized it was time to make a move. Cautiously, so very
quietly, I left that closet, determined to complete my revenge on
that cunt. And soon I was right in front of her as she thrashed
her twat with that plaster cock, and I had a duplicate to that
prick, held it in my hand, and finally split her ankles apart,
pulled her hand away with my false disk in it, and fell on her
with the real McCoy.
She came out of her trance almost instantly. But I already
was into her hot vag, smoothly driving the real thing at the roof
of her cunt. She let out a scream and started beating me with her
fists, but it was after the fact. I slapped her face back and
forth, put a hand over her mouth, and gave her my rod solidly to
her hole. Soon she shut up, stopped the resistance act, and went
on with the business of being fucked. She never had it so good,
and she knew it.
I rammed her savagely. I hated her guts, and I had purposely
jacked off before leaving my pad that morning in order to run my
rod in her till she screamed from the ecstasy and the agony of it
all. I had whacked myself three times that morning, and had
plenty of seed out of me. So there was little thought that she'd
ever get to me with her pelvic grinds; I would sustain a fuck that
would drive her insane.
Which I did. Soon she was screaming from the joy of it all-
and I let her scream. I let her scream to high heaven, and I
laughed all the time she yelled. I just kept plugging her,
methodically, like a taskmaster, fucking her so that she went
insane. Her clit was under the saw action of my dick, and she
went berserk from the fuck. There was nothing in the world she
could do but hump; she was caught on the fuck.
I rode her all the way down the line. She came, and came,
and came again. She was exhausted from her comes. Soon she
begged me not to fuck her anymore. But I continued. And she,
being a broad, and a broad being a dumb bitch for cock anytime,
kept taking my action, fucking herself to new comes, tyrannizing
her own flesh with her gluttony for sexual achievement and
fulfillment and all that shit. She went the limits, as far as she
could go, and I knew I had reduced her from that position of
snobbery. Yet I still wasn't done with her.
Hell no, it wasn't about to be over so soon. There was still
more to come. You bet there was. When I finally came, after she
had exploded eight times in a row and was crying for me to stop, I
pulled my dick from her in a lightning stroke, climbed atop her
body, straddled her face, and shot my load directly into her eyes.
That's right. I didn't bother with her cunt or mouth; hell no; I
went right after her eyes, and I blinded her with my come,
spilling it solidly into her damned eyes.
But it still wasn't over. While she tried to fight me away,
yet weakly did so because of her exhaustion, I smeared the come
all over her face, using my dick as a brush, applying the creamy
solution like a woman swabs her face with beauty oil. And I
laughed as I creamed her so.
And I still wasn't done. Hell no. I began fucking her ears.
My rod was solid despite my come, something I've trained myself
long to have; and I began fucking her ears while she cried and
frantically tried to get back her sight. She was too exhausted to
make much of a fight, and I usually pounded her head when she
tried; so I succeeded in coming in one of her ears, after a very
long ride in which I repeatedly rammed my cock at her ears, first
one and then the other, turning her head left and right as I
needed to turn it. And I laughed while I shot my load down that
ear. It was a beautiful thing to witness, trust me.
I still wasn't done with her, though. Hell no. I went back
to fucking her with the plaster prick. But now I inserted it to
her asshole and reamed her behind. She screamed from the pain,
and I sent it in as far as it would go, and began an endless
rhythm, just fucking, fucking, endlessly fucking. She kept
screaming, and I kept fucking, and soon my rhythm got hold of her
and she started turning her ass just the way she would if it was
in her hole. She turned and rolled and humped and jabbed, all the
time howling like a dog in heat. And I laughed as I screwed her
to a series of new comes which left her more limp than ever.
Then I made her suck me off. She was too beaten to protest.
I shoved her off the bed, watched her flop to the floor, picked
her up and propped her at the side of the bed, straddled her face,
locking my thighs around her neck, and made her suck me off.
Naturally I could take forever before I came; and I kept her
sucking me the whole time. It was beautiful. When I started to
come, I jerked my dong from her mouth and shot new cream to her
bleared eyes. She screamed again.
But I still wasn't done. Hell no. And this was the best
part, something I've saved to tell you even now. This was the
very best part-for, you see, I had brought some leather straps
with me, and also a pair of walking canes. Do you get the
picture? I hope so.
Yes; the next thing I did was to lift her broken body, wrap
it in leather, and I tied it on nails that I quickly hammered
against her closet doors. And then I got hold of one cane, and
began walloping her. I walloped the shit out of her. I flailed
her tits till they bled. I beat her body with a vengeance. I
smashed her, left and right, then took the second cane to
accompany the first and do a better job. I held one cane in each
hand and bludgeoned the shit out of her.
And when she had fainted, simply dropped her head to her big
boobs, and couldn't protest even with a whimper, I went between
her legs with one cane, inserted it to her vag, and shoved it as
far as it would go, ramming it up all the way in her vag, damned
well trying to force it into her womb. And then I spread her cunt
and inserted the other cane too, and I began a powerful
bludgeoning up her vag, ramming at her uterus, determined to crush
that bitch. Oh I gave it to her beautifully.
But I still wasn't done. No. I dropped her from those
straps, let her fall straight to the floor. She toppled in a way
that knocked her teeth on the head of the bed and I watched them
chip. I laughed at that, then kicked her over onto her belly,
spread her legs, and shoved the first of those two canes up her
bunghole. Then I sent the second up, and I began fucking the shit
out of her behind, shoving them just as far as I possibly could
shove them. And when I was done I left her that way, two canes up
her tail. And I got the hell out of there.
What a beautiful sight it would be, to see her waking up with
two canes in her asshole. What an absolutely ravishing sight!
Chapter 10
Then I hit the road again, getting the hell out of that town,
laughing to myself as I remembered Miss Snob. She would be damned
careful in the future whom she put the snub on, trust me-if she
lived to even consider putting the snub on anybody. Bitch.
Meanwhile I roamed the land, taking ass where I felt like
taking it. I realized again and again that a broad stinks, that a
bitch will do anything to be fucked, that everything chaste about
a broad is in the guy's mind, not in the girl's cunt. And I
wanted to do something bigger than ever. Somehow I wanted to do
something I never had done before. So I decided to go all the
way.
I put an ad in some underground newspapers: "Swinging male
with plenty of Go wants to meet hip chick with like motivations."
And I listed a number for them to ring, "day or night."
I got plenty of calls, you can be sure. Oh, a lot of them
were thrill-seekers with nothing to deliver, but you'd be
surprised how you can work those over, too, if you handle the
situation right. Here's how: Don't mouth off about yourself.
That's the mistake most guys make. They think they can ball a
chick by giving her dimensions over the phone, and they yak about
their sex prowess the whole damned time they're on the line. It
doesn't excite a girl to tell her you can give her a jazzing. But
it excites her like crazy if you sweet-talk her into thinking that
she's the most formidable fuck in the world.
Now that's difficult on a phone, and you can't be the big
comic artist, either. You've got to smooth-talk her down the line
to that point where, excited about her own possibilities, she'll
ring you again to hear praise of herself. After a couple of times
like that, she'll stop being the thrill-seeker who called you
originally just to be part of an act and she'll start wanting the
real thrills that were always behind her motivation. That's when
you can cash in your chips for more nookie.
It was exactly those that I went after with my ads. I
couldn't care less about the real swingers. I wanted the smart
ass kind who read those ads, feel secure and snug at the end of a
phone line, and laugh at the ad-maker behind his back. I wanted
to get those babies.
And I did. It took awhile, and I lost some in the process,
but I got the number I wanted: a solid dozen. That's right. I
lined one solid dozen of them up, arranged to meet them, got
together with them, and put the tag on each, luring them to my pad
after a reasonable time and when I figured their hots were
sufficient to insure they would show.
They did-on the same day, exactly as I had planned it. Oh
yes I worked that out too. I had them all arrive on the same day
at the same hour, got them all into the room together, and then
watched the fireworks start. Do you know what I'm talking about?
Figure it for yourself: twelve broads, finally lured to a place
where they think they're going to be the individual star with no
competitors around. And what do they find? Eleven other broads
with the same notion. It does something to the female ego, I
assure you.
For one thing it makes them very competitive. I've always
noticed that about twats when they're faced with another vying for
someone's affections upon which they're dependent. They're pissy.
You can be sure they'd shoot to kill if you handed them a gun.
And you can be sure, minus gun, they'll do everything in their
power to snare the man whose snaring will set them up as queen
bee.
So I proceeded to work on their egos. I suggested that they
strip in order to prove their worth. It was a gamble, and they
bitched, some even threatening to leave; but I lined them all up
naked just the same. As I've said, over and over, broads like to
take off their clothes. If men ever understood this, they
wouldn't hesitate to offer a broad that possibility. I don't know
what it is about the female mind, but something in them makes them
think they're worth looking at naked. And they'll take off their
clothes every time they get a chance.
So I had them undress, and then, like in a beauty contest, I
went around measuring their tits and asses, hips and waists. And
those twats lined up as if they were on the boardwalk at Atlantic
City, behaving just like broads always behave: vain, vain, vain.
And I went around measuring them all, taking thigh sizes and calf
sizes; the whole bit.
Finally I subjected them to some tests. I had a plaster cock
of myself again and I handed it to each of them, instructing them
to stick it to their vags. Some protested anew but I pointed out
that a real swinging girl never would bitch about something like
that. "In fact," I said, "real swingers want to see themselves
doing it on film." That was a new bait. I let it dangle, and
moved on to other things.
After they all had tried out the cast of my dick, and I
presented them each with a dildo, a dozen of which I had purchased
especially for the occasion. They were monstrous things, even
bigger than my cock, and the broads flushed just from the thought
of sticking those rods up their buns. But I insisted they do so,
and they did. Soon twelve twats stood with twelve dildoes in
them, all in a long line in front of me. A broad will do
anything, trust me.
While they worked the dildoes in their vags, I went up and
down the line, kissing and nibbling their titties. They were a
bunch of good-looking broads, and it was a distinct pleasure to
nibble their orbs. And they loved what I did, too. Some of them
even begged me to fuck them, right then. "To hell with the
tests," several of them said. "Let's fuck right now. Come on."
But I wasn't about to do that. I had other things planned
for those bitches. And I simply laughed lightly when they begged
for my cock, and told them, "Another time."
I let them all work off a come with their dildoes, then took
the instruments away from them. It had been a beautiful sight to
watch, twelve broads standing or lying or sitting, all in the big
studio parlor of the pad I had rented for the occasion, and to see
them sending those leather dildoes up their cunts crazily while
they worked themselves to comes. And more than that it was a
pleasure to observe that broads would allow themselves to be
subjected to that scene. If anyone had asked them beforehand,
individually, if they ever would admit such a thing to happen, I'm
sure you know the righteous answer those whores would have given
the questioner.
But a bitch is always a bitch, and if you travel on that
assumption, you'll never be short of ass. It's when you're a fool
and think a cunt is above such things, that you make your mistake.
It's when you think that there's at least one bitch somewhere who
won't yield to such suggestions; that's when you're in trouble.
Because, you see, there is no girl anywhere who really is
different. They're all the same; every damned last one of them.
None are different. Absolutely none.
And I proceeded on that assumption when I made a return date
for the twelve to show up for "more fun." Ten showed up the next
time, and I knew the other two would show on a third time if I
handled it right. So I let the ten play with their dildoes again,
made them think they were still being tested, led them to believe
that all kinds of things were in the offing for the mate I would
choose; and then went to locate the other two lost lambs when that
session was done.
I had to put the make on them individually, flattering the
bitches and cajoling them, and bringing them around to considering
the beauty of attending another session. However I did not fuck
them. I was determined not to do that. I could have creamed
either one of them in no time flat; they practically begged me for
it because they wanted it so badly. But I refused to do that.
And I stayed with my refusal.
Then they all gathered again. It was the third session, and
I introduced them playfully to ping pong paddles. They chased
each other around the room, and they thought it was a lot of fun.
Some of them even had little comes when I whacked their fannies
with the paddles. Then I had them turn their paddles around and
fuck their holes with the handles. It turned them on, and some of
them actually rode their paddles to new comes. It was crazy to
watch them lying all over that studio parlor, ping pong paddle
handles up their snatches. They would be writhing and turning,
left and right, their gazes delirious, and they would be yanking
from and shoving to their snatches those paddles crazily. Damned
nuts.
That was another session. They were becoming hooked on the
thrills. They thought of themselves as real swingers, and they
looked forward to the next time we would get together. "Let's
have something different," they said. "Let's have something
different." Asses.
I gave them something different. For the fourth session, I
gave them all puppies to suck their vags. It was Rover all over
again, and I taught them how to get dogs to learn to suck their
twats. I should mention briefly how that's done. It's really
very simple. You just put some horse meat up the broad's twat,
grease her hairs with some of its juice and let the puppy learn to
lick the cunt to get at his reward. You'd be surprised how fast
he learns to like twat for its own sake. It's a habit, like every
other habit.
The broads loved it. They went insane from the good feeling
the puppies' tongues gave them. "Oooh," they squealed, "we never
knew anything like this could be so good." And they hugged the
little animals to their snatches. Even as the pups were being
hooked, so too were those bitches being snared-but good.
So it was a simple matter to bring in the motion picture
camera on the next occasion when the dogs ate their vags. At
first, some expressed concern, but they all probably realized it
was their claim to fame. They all could be Garbos of the cunt.
And they began mugging for the camera before it was over, posing
and letting me photograph their ugly cunts close-up; and they even
spread their vags with their fingers so that I could go right in
for the closest of such close-ups.
After awhile they took anything. Every session they took
more. No matter what I offered to them, they grabbed it. They
stuck carrots up their cunts; they stuck turnips up themselves;
they reamed their own asses with bananas. They loved anything I
suggested. They subjected themselves to a milking machine that I
had picked up at a hospital auction, and they even suggested that
I get a wringer washing machine so they could "wring out" their
tits. Nothing was unusual for them, and they welcomed everything.
Finally I had them ready to go all the way. And the day came
when I lined them up in a row in that parlor, told them to lie
down in that same row, and then inserted an electric cock to each
of their cunts. They didn't know what it was, thought the cocks
were just a set of dildoes, but couldn't understand why a cord was
connected to all of those prongs.
Then I turned on the machine, and the vibrations started.
Have you ever watched one of those machines in action? They're
amazing. Built exactly like a cock, and you can order them
according to the size you want, they work on a power principle,
moving back and forth in a cunt at the rate of pushes per minute
which she desires and which she regulates on a dial that looks
like something attached to an electric blanket. She can speed up
the motion or slow it down to her heart's content, and no matter
what speed she sets it for, if she sets a release mechanism, it
will actually fire warm cream into her hole at the end of that
time, increasing its motion automatically as it heads towards its
come. The machine is amazing.
Ah, but I controlled the central dial, and they didn't get a
chance to choose what speed they would get or when the comes would
come. I regulated everything. And before I gave them their
cocks, I trussed them all to positions on the floor which I had
marked off with little metallic spikes, locking every girl in
leather so that she could not get up. And particularly I locked
their necks in leather bands so that they strained against those
straps at their own risk. It was a nice touch.
Then, with all dicks inserted to twelve expectant cunts, I
turned the central controls on and started their vibrations. At
first it was very slow as I determined it to be. I watched the
dicks going in and out of each cunt, and the broads were rocking
their fannies slowly, enjoying the rides. All the girls were
smiling, clear-eyed, and so very joyous with their electronic
cocks. It was a pretty sight.
Then I made the first turn-up on the controls. The cocks
increased ever so slightly their entries and exits. The girls
responded excitedly to the change in rhythm. "Oooh, this is the
wildest," one cried out. And another yelled, "Oh, gee, I never
knew how good anything could ever feel." And they all were
ecstatic.
Increasingly then I raised the controls so that soon they
were swelling with the fucks they took. The groaners came into
action. The whimperers started whimpering. The squealers
squealed joyously. The screamers began their screams. Oh, it was
a merry party, and everybody was having one helluva good time.
And then I sent the speed all the way. How fast do you fuck?
I hate to say this but, no matter how fast you can screw, a
machine can screw faster. It's just one of the things about
electronics in our day. We can't match an electronic cock for
speed. They are amazing. They go faster than anything you've
ever seen. They go so fast that you don't even see them going.
It is, at best, like watching a blur. You're not sure it's even
moving.
But, trust me, you know it's moving when it's getting the
reaction those dicks got in those cunts. The broads went insane.
They screamed and yelled and moaned and groaned and sighed and
panted and went absolutely berserk. And that's when the neck
bands started having their effect.
There's something about a fuck that makes a girl want to
swing her head left and right, to rise off the floor if she's
fucking there, to lurch and lunge and maybe reach for air as the
pressure builds up. But leather bands hold very firmly when
they're bolted to the floor. And soon you have a lot of choking,
a lot of gagging, lots of pretty blue faces.
Meanwhile, the fucking pressure mounted. It didn't let up.
Some of them tried to scream that I stop the speed. But their own
wild passion prevented them from finishing their pleas. Instead
they simply heaved into new convulsions of thrust and barely could
concentrate on anything, even their own pleasure, so great was the
tension.
They came to come after come. They rocked and thrust their
pretty pussies against the world. They shot their nerve endings
loose rapidly and repeatedly. And still those formidable electric
cocks did not stop. Those cocks seared the girl's twats, drove
them to that point where they actually burned their holes, for the
friction became unbearable, and I expected fire to break out at
any moment. It was a most beautiful sight to behold.
But if you think that was all, you're wrong, for I had
something else waiting for them. As they had their knees raised,
hence both holes exposed, they were quite ready for nice healthy
electronic cocks up their assholes as well, and I had supplied
myself with plenty of cocks for my purposes, believe me.
So I placed those mighty cocks up their assholes also. They
screamed-those who could still scream amidst their frantic
insanity-when I simply injected those hard dicks to their narrow
rear passages, no lubing allowed because I wanted those bitches to
know exactly what a big dick felt like, going raw into their
bungholes. And then I turned the control mechanism governing
them, set it at top speed, and let it go right off in a solid
series of blasts up and down that line.
Try it sometime if you want to surprise your favorite
girlfriend. There's nothing matches it, believe me. All of a
sudden, those cocks were in their assholes, going at ninety per,
and the bitches were shot to hell, what with equally speedy dicks
up their vags. They were exhausted, trust me; beautifully and
savagely exhausted.
But they couldn't stop, do you understand? That's the put;
they simply couldn't stop. With cocks going like blazes in their
double holes, they were being driven to the point of final
destruction, and yet they couldn't stop the thrashing action which
resulted from the cocks spearing their vacancies. And that drove
them closer and closer to mass unconsciousness.
I wasn't done with them yet, though. No. I had another set
of electric cocks. I had invested plenty for the occasion and I
was damned glad to bring it all the way in. And I went at them
with cocks for their mouths, inserting one to every mouth down the
long line. They tried to fight me away, but were too tired, too
brutalized to do anything then except yield, even when they knew
their fate. They could only accept that fate, not deny it.
So I inserted the third dozen electric cocks, and they had
them in assholes, cunts, and mouths. Turning the current on,
setting the controls for the speediest fuck in the world again, I
had those dicks lunging the broads' throats, savagely thrusting
themselves in and out with arch-swelling violence. And I loved
watching the banging those cunts were getting in all three
directions. It was impossible for them to do anything except take
what was given them and strive desperately in their passion
somehow to reach a final point from which they would no more
return, from which they could depart into some kind of final
dismissal of all thought.
But I wasn't done yet. Remember those pups? They were still
around, in fact baying at the smell of cunt, baying from their
cages in another room of that large apartment. And I had
something planned for them, too; that is, for the broads, but the
dogs would enjoy it as well.
So I got some fresh horse-meat blood I had saved for the
occasion, covered the girls' tits with it, and ran a streak of it
down each girl's midriff and to her navel, then on the line from
her navel left and right to and round her fleshy hips. And
finally, as one places a cherry or other decoration on a cupcake,
I inserted a tiny dab of horse-meat deeply into each one's navel.
It made a nice picture.
And to that scene I released the dogs. They went insane.
They rushed wildly to the girls' bodies, climbed atop them and
began lapping the girls' tits, sucking like mad upon them with
their crazy tongues, dipping and diving to achieve their private
nirvanas with the good licking of tits and midriffs, bellies, and
thighs. And occasionally, of course, they made a nibble here and
there in their innocent quest for the goodies that all dogs love.
Finally they began probing the girls' navels in search of those
tidbits of horse-meat.
Do you have the picture now? Exotic? Erotic? It was the
greatest. There they were, twelve of them lined up in that long
row across the width of the studio parlor, skylight above them
baring illumination to that idyllic scene. And they all were
strapped neatly at strategic points so that they could maneuver
themselves sufficiently and yet not too much, thereby heightening
their fantastic pleasures. Likewise, they all had in them three
electric cocks, one to mouth, one to cunt, one to asshole; and the
cocks were going as fast as any such cock can go. And of course,
lastly but naturally not leastly, those puppies were scrambling
all over the girls' bodies in search of that delicious horse-meat.
Oh yes, and the girls were rather breathless, let us say.
But remember this, I had not yet set the mechanism that would
make those electric dicks come; that is, release the creamy fluid
which spilled from all of them at that point when a fuck was to be
ended.
That then was the next thing I decided to do. I triggered
the controls to move the lurching fucks to their violent
conclusions. And I also manipulated the sub-controls which
determined how much come would come. Oh, modern electronics
offers so many possibilities!
I set up gauges for the maximum comes possible, and then got
out the whips, first putting away all the crazy puppies when they
had done their jobs. There is nothing so terrible as whipping an
innocent poor dumb animal. That I won't do.
The girls couldn't really cry out when I slashed them with
the pair of whips which I held, one in each hand. They were mute
in their agony. I say agony because, by that time, all chance of
ecstasy long had been devoured in a sweeping agony against which
they couldn't even protest, so great was that pain. And I whipped
them savagely, right and left, swinging my whips madly as I
stepped from one to another. I cracked their tits and pussies and
smashed their bellies and thighs. And I drew blood in a few
places and was sorry the dogs couldn't see that.
But I went up and down the line as the cocks, sprinting
towards their comes, increased their stroke speed to that apex of
friction when, if at all possible, fire indeed would come, and I
whipped the girls violently until the moment of swelling release.
Then their cunts, their assholes, and their mouths, their throats
were flooded with the sweeping surges of come that battered them
with fiery swiftness. They gagged. Many of them gagged, unable
to swallow; they were so taut in their agony that they couldn't
breath sufficiently, hence were dependent on violent gasps
occasionally in order to gain any air at all for their lungs.
Hence when all that come hit their throats in mad torrents, they
couldn't take it; and they gagged; choked and couldn't breathe at
all.
It is very interesting to watch a broad's face turn black and
blue. There is a certain strange quality about it. You actually
think of the colors as rather exotic, and they might even be
somewhat psychedelic. It is a most pleasurable sensation to
observe, I assure you.
Oh, they didn't die. Don't worry about that. The human body
has an amazing ability to survive through very difficult
conditions. It goes on and on and on and on. So they managed to
survive. When the dicks, having released those gigantic comes to
assholes, cunts, and mouths, finally subsided and stopped their
fucking, and I stopped beating them with my whips, the girls
finally came to an end of their mania. They stopped thrashing
about, managed to gain oxygen again, and finally opened their
eyes.
Oh, such defeated eyes. You've never seen anything like
them. Their eyes were full of surrender. The girls couldn't
speak yet, still being somewhat breathless, all definitely being
exhausted beyond comparison; but their eyes betokened their abject
servility and brutal surrender. It would be a long time before
they prided themselves again on being swingers.
It would be a long time indeed.
Chapter 11
Well, there are so many experiences we can have. And yet we
are searching, always searching. I traveled the country again
after that, hitting the road and going from coast to coast, up and
down the land, seeking and searching, getting my kicks whenever I
felt like doing it. And yet I still wasn't satisfied. I still
wanted something else. Let me tell you how I almost found it.
Her name was Janice and she was one of the most striking
girls I've ever seen in my life. Everything about her was
beautiful, and yet not terrifyingly so. She was beautiful, but
you weren't frightened away by her beauty or put on your guard or
angry because she was so damned beautiful. Rather she seemed
pleasant in her beauty; it was that kind of beauty which attracts,
never repels, intrigues, draws you closer and closer. It was the
kind of beauty you even think you might want to come home to at
night. Do you know the kind of beauty I mean?
Her hair was neither red nor blonde nor brown, but rather a
lovely mixture of all three. It was neither short nor long, but
perfect it seemed in length. It was neither elaborately coiffured
nor merely done in a flip, but rather strangely lustrous and
textured and done with a simple elegance which you might never
seem to master or fathom.
And so it was with everything about her. For instance, her
breasts were neither grotesque objects of weird excitement nor
miniature spheres unworthy of mention. They were just right in
that way that a girl's breasts have of being just right when you
really care about her.
Oh-oh, did I make a slip? I said, "really care." Do I sound
like a person who doesn't care about women? Have I accidentally,
or on purpose, conveyed that impression to you? If so, it might
be the right impression-until you come to talk about Janice. Then
you've got to stop, because everything else goes out the window.
You see, I really cared for her. Don't ask me why. There
are things in our lives over which we have no control. We go
through a lifetime seeing the sham and fraud and superficiality
all around us, and then a day comes when, suddenly, we see nothing
but radiant beauty. We see innocence and beguilement and an
absolutely irresistible substance which makes it impossible for us
to go on in our cynical or callous or gravely realistic ways.
Such an instance in my life was my meeting with Janice.
Oh, it wasn't anything special. That is, I certainly didn't
plan it. I just happened to see her, and of all places, on a
beach. It was summer, and the girls were out in their bikinis,
and I suppose I even was at the beach for the purpose of gathering
a few of them for a bit of despoilation. That may have been in
the back of my mind.
Then I saw Janice. She crossed my path enroute from a
hamburger stand across a strip of sidewalk at the back of the
beach near where I was parked and was eyeing the lush fragrant
offerings the beach world can provide in its season. She wore a
blue bikini, and I suppose its color attracted me before I
realized I was staring at a girl who for some reason unknown to
me, really attracted my attention in a manner never before
encountered.
I liked everything I saw about her. I saw those lovely tits
barely banded in that cloth which a bikini's cut makes most
revealing as it accents the swell of a girl's breasts. And I
liked the flush smooth flesh of her bare hips and which the bottom
accents as well. I liked the range of her flanks where the cut of
the bottom also reveals more flesh. And with it, I was attracted
to her pert proud thighs as they came at me and then passed so
that I saw their pleasant forward thrust in its full fleshliness
as well as the rear view with its uptight pressuring thrust seen
from behind.
And she smiled to me as she passed, smiled somewhat shyly and
yet perhaps amusedly at the stare I gave her. She was already
past before I realized that I had been frozen by her beauty, or
whatever it was that attracted me to her, and that I hadn't even
been able to respond to that lovely smile. And I watched her
until she passed from view beyond a rise of the beach and down
somewhere nearer the surf.
As a matter of reflex, I suppose, I left my car and went
after her. Why did I pursue her? How do I know? We go through a
lifetime on a track, building something within us that forces out
the world, that drives us forward, unendingly forward, and then
one day we happen upon a breach in our very armor and we see the
world in a fragrant strange new light which leaves us bereft of
protective covering and makes us prey to the elements that hound
all men. Such a thing can happen to anybody.
I went over the rise in that beach and searched the environs
until I located her. She was beside a child, a little boy of
about two, and she was feeding him one of the hot-dogs she had
carried from that refreshment stand. He was eating it, munching
it as a little boy of his age would do. He was so very intent on
the hot-dog.
And she was beautiful. Her entire interest was absorbed in
feeding that little boy. She knelt before him and gave him the
hot-dog to bite and wiped his mouth free of mustard with a napkin,
and had eyes only for him. I felt certain she was his mother.
And I was surprised to realize how young she appeared, surely not
more than nineteen; and I was intrigued to go forward, to speak
with her, to make her acquaintance.
Crazy? Probably. But who can know what are our destinies?
I only knew that I wanted to know her. To hell with the
consequences. To hell with everything except to know that girl.
Crazy, yes. Assuredly insane; for what cunt, regardless of
her motherhood is worth a damn? Every cunt in order to become a
mother had to fuck somebody somewhere. And the very act of her
fucking pronounced her own weakness of the flesh, her own need for
cock, her own inability to refuse a prick. So why be taken by a
mother feeding her little child?
Yet I went to her. I sat on the beach near her, studied her
lovely body, and watched her continue that feeding. The little
boy was the first one to notice me. Somehow he became distracted
from his exciting feast and saw me. His eyes fastened on me. He
was a blonde little fellow, tan and chubby, and he suddenly
grinned at me with a mouthful of hot-dog and mustard and relish.
I grinned back, intrigued by his innocence, and his mother turned
to see what fascinated her young son.
For a second, the look of recognition passed her lovely dark
eyes as she knew exactly who I was. Then there was too that
second in which those orbs swept the hill of sand in their gaze as
if to see beyond that hill to the vehicle I had left and thus to
confirm the fact she knew to be true: that I had followed her to
that place on the beach. And I answered that sweeping gaze,
saying, "I couldn't resist. I hope you'll forgive me."
"For what?" She seemed genuinely curious, and her voice was
so perfect, so free from inhibitions as well as deceptions. When
you meet an open person, it is such a wonderful thing.
"That I followed you," I said, and actually heard myself
sounding as candid as did she. No; not as candid. I never could
be as candid. My life has been a history of deceit, deception,
and destruction. But I know I certainly, and quite reflexively,
tried to be as open and free of contrivances as was she.
She didn't answer me when I said that. She only smiled. It
was not a lavish smile. It was not intended to beguile, and yet
it did beguile. Hence it was truly a lavish smile. You see, the
most lavish smiles are the true smiles. In a world of violence,
viciousness, and vindictive assertion, the true smile is indeed
lavish; and it always beguiles.
Then she went back to feeding her son. I immediately decided
to confirm my assumption that he was her son. It also was an
opportunity to further our conversation. I asked her if he was
her child, and when she said he was, I told her she didn't seem
old enough to have a son. It was flattery, I'm sure, and yet I
meant it too. But her answer was so strangely beautiful that it
destroyed everything I could have intended in flattery and denied
my intention of sincerity as well with a beautiful truth.
And all she said, simply was, "A girl of eleven can have a
son."
"How old are you?" I asked quickly, knowing her infinite
wisdom in such a small remark. And I pressed the question also to
cover the strangest feeling I ever had known; a feeling of
insecurity, I'm sure; a feeling that I was inadequate for the
first time in such a relationship.
"Nineteen." She looked at me just long enough to indicate
her desire to tell me that fact; but then concentrated anew on the
feeding of her son. He was almost done with his little feast.
"What's his name?"
"Randy."
"I'm Ace."
"Hello, Ace." She looked at me again in that wonderful way,
and smiled gently. "I'm Janice."
"Hello, Janice." I couldn't help repeating her own greeting.
What is it about another person whom we admire that causes us to
imitate him or her in some small way; causes us almost against our
will; carries us on the flight of an impression.
So we began a relationship. We spoke of Randy and of his
love for hot-dogs. We spoke of his age; he was two years and
three months. We spoke of trivialities and the sea, the sand, and
everything inconsequential in the world, it seemed. And I had no
intention whatsoever about anything. Crazy? Perhaps.
A month went by, and I finally went to bed with her. You may
think me insane, but it was that long; I hadn't even kissed her
during our first three weeks together despite the fact I was in
her apartment already on the third afternoon of our
acquaintanceship.
Then came the day when sexual pressure mounted within me, and
I was unable to withstand the temptation any longer. Oh yes, I
admit it had been a temptation, and I admit that I had viewed it
as a temptation and therefore had fought a rather losing battle to
withhold myself from its lure.
But a man is a man, and so forth. And I craved her body
enough to go after it when I could no longer withstand its
attraction. It was in the afternoon when it happened, and I want
to describe it for you.
We had been to the beach as was our custom on various days of
the week. I wore swim-trunks and she wore her bikini. We put the
baby to bed for a nap upon our return. On such previous
occasions, we had gone to the kitchen for cold pop and had sat
opposite each other, talking about all things and none. That
particular afternoon, however, it was different.
Instead of drinking the pop in the kitchen, we went to the
living room and sat together on the sofa. I could have sat
elsewhere, but I didn't. I chose to sit beside her, very close,
and our bodies touched along our flanks. It wasn't long before I
playfully set my cold bottle to her warm thigh. She shivered and
laughed, though uncertainly, and crossed her legs as she moved the
bottle away.
I placed my hand on her thigh next, and she removed my hand.
"No, Ace, please don't," she said, and gazed to me strangely.
There was an uncertainty in her eyes, and her smile was weak. I
could see she was nervous, and something in me told me to stop. I
wanted to stop because I knew the consequences that would follow
my not stopping. In other words, I was sure I could make her.
What girl can't be made? I've said that often enough. Every
girl wants to be made. There is no girl anywhere in the world who
doesn't really, at least secretly in her innermost heart, want to
be laid. It is just the rule of the world.
So I knew I could make Janice. I always had known I could
make her. But something had always kept me from making her, and
now that "something" was stopping; that "something" slowly was
receding from me, as a wave leaves the shore, leaving me naked to
my passion.
And I moved in on her. I went after her forcefully. I
wrestled with her and brought her to me despite her protests and
her attempts to be free of my embraces. And I forced my lips upon
hers and locked our mouths in a solid hold and drove my torrid
tongue between her yielding lips. And hated what I did even while
I hated her for yielding and then hated myself again for making
her yield.
Yet I moved in on her. And soon I had her bikini top
unsnapped and thrust upward, and I was nibbling at her titties.
At first she fought me off, or tried to fight me off; but then the
weakness that is part of a woman came to the fore. And her last
pleas that I not touch her became blended with her first sighs and
moans. And soon she was caressing my hair as a mother might
stroke her baby's locks when it sucks upon her nipples. She ran
her hands lovingly through my hair and squirmed beneath my adept
licking.
From there on, it was simple. Though she protested again as
I slipped away her bikini bottom, she didn't really protest much
at all. And she even lifted her haunches accommodatingly when,
purposefully, I pretended to be having difficulty removing her
drawers. I slipped them off then without any trouble and knew she
was just another fuck.
But such a beautiful fuck she was. There was something
really lovely about her body. Her curves allured me, and I loved
every fleshly inch of that wonderful creature. I loved everything
about her, and I simply had to fall between her legs when I had
slipped away her bikini bottom, and had to nuzzle her bush. It
was a beautiful thing, brown and gold and red, just like the rest
of her hair. And I dipped my tongue to its furry loveliness even
while she begged me not to eat her.
Oh, it was a phony beg; that is, she meant it, but didn't
mean it at all. She didn't want to be eaten, but yet she did want
to be eaten. She was confused in that way every woman always is
confused; and in the end, sex won out.
I plied my tongue to her slit. Her juices already were
flowing. I parted her cunt lips, wielding my tongue like a spear,
and went against the lining of her twat. And I licked her walls
left and right, and lifted her legs over my shoulders as I dug
deeply with my tongue to her hot orifice. She locked her ankles
around my neck and stretched her hands to caress my hair, and she
threw her head back against the top of the sofa and let out a low
and pleased moan. Soon she was humping my mouth with her hot
vault.
I licked her well, savagely maneuvering my tongue in and out
and all around her fantastically hot hole. And I enjoyed it.
That's the crazy thing. I enjoyed what I was doing; I enjoyed it
for its juices. I pleasured myself to suck her hairs and taste
the bittersweet acrid stuff that was her cunt juices. I loved
every minute of what I did.
And soon she climbed the scales, letting out moans and groans
enroute, tearing at my hair, giving me violent bumps and grinds,
rocking her crotch massively against my taking mouth. And it
wasn't long before she was beyond all containment, when the only
thing that mattered to her was that she get her come off. She
slashed and thrashed, rocked and rolled, shoved and pushed; and
finally she let out a sudden scream and pierced me with all the
intensity in the world, banging her snatch extraordinarily
powerfully against my mouth in a mad orgasm that wouldn't stop
until it ran through a series of dwindling jabs, rocking me always
less harshly until she reached that point where, spent in her
frenzy, she simply whimpered and threw me a weak bump, a depressed
grind; and then quit her marathon; quit and surrendered, sighed,
sucked air, and loosed her maniacal leg-hold on my neck.
What a beautiful eating session it had been.
And yet I hated her. Somehow suddenly I knew I hated her.
And I even said to her, twisting a poisoned knife with my words,
"I'll bet you've been eaten by a lot of guys."
She told me what I knew was true, that which she long had
told me: that there were no other guys except the boy who had made
her baby. And I answered her now, making it a cruel joke, smiling
as I twisted that terrible blade again, "But he didn't marry you;
so maybe there were others."
"He didn't want to marry me," she said. "You know that.
I've told you already. Besides it wouldn't have worked. It-"
I broke in to say, "He didn't trust you, that's why. He
figured if you fucked him, you'd fuck anybody." And I looked at
her with a mean and small smile.
She gazed to me. Something flashed across her eyes, telling
me she sensed a change in our relationship. She was frightened.
And yet she was submissive. And she said, "Maybe you're right."
She didn't put up a fight. She just said, "Maybe you're right."
And then she looked away.
"Of course I'm right," I said angrily. "I'm always right. A
cunt is a cunt. I've never seen a cunt yet that was any
different. Every cunt is the same." When she didn't answer me,
or even look at me, when she just continued to gaze sadly away, I
repeated those words. "Every cunt is the same," I said more
forcefully. "No cunt is different. Every cunt is the same."
Then I stood and stepped from my swim-trunks and commanded
that she should get onto the carpet. She didn't look to me nor
move. "Bitch," I snapped, "get on the carpet like I told you.
Don't give me the sad-eyed gazing act. Don't play the sad little
girl who finds out her love was misplaced. Get on the carpet like
a cunt should. I want to fuck you."
When she still didn't respond in any way, I grabbed her. She
suddenly screamed, bawling, begging me to let her go. I laughed
at her. "Shut up," I ordered. "Shut your filthy damned mouth."
And I slapped her face. She bobbled from the blow, looked at me
dumbly like a broken little kid realizing the world is strange;
and I laughed in her face.
Then I dropped her to the carpet; just that; I dropped her to
the carpet. She fell in a bundle, and I kicked her legs apart.
She didn't fight back. She put up no fight at all. It pissed me.
The least she could have done was to fight me. But she didn't.
And I lowered myself between her legs and determined to give her
the most savage fuck she ever would have.
I wielded my dick like a weapon. I wished it was a knife
that could cut her twat apart. I hated her guts and wanted to
destroy her. I lashed her hole furiously with my yang and
penetrated her as deeply as I could go. She was a small thing, I
noticed immediately, having a narrow and short vagina, and I
banged her ferociously with a purpose. She cried terrifiedly from
my thrusts, and I laughed maniacally at what I did. It was a
beautiful thing, believe me.
I dicked her with precision, rocking her cunt with all my
might, plunging my yang powerfully into her, banging my crotch
against hers. And all the while I sucked on her nipples or played
with her titties or ran a couple of fingers up her asshole. It
was great. She cried from the agony I gave her and I loved to
hear her cries.
Then she began fucking me, the same as every other broad. No
matter how much pain you give them, sooner or later they'll start
reacting to the heady rhythm with which you apply that pain.
Sooner or later they'll respond to your savagery. And Janice
responded. Oh, how she did respond. She went into another wild
drive for a solid come, forcing herself wantonly against me
despite her anguished cries at her fate.
And I fucked her madly; madly and meanly. I gave her
everything there was to give. I climbed the scales of love with
her. We went up those scales, seeking their top, looking for that
uppermost point from which together we could topple earthward in
maniacal surrender. And when we neared that point, were almost to
it, had barely a stroke left before we would go over the top, I
halted instantly with all my will and thus made her beg me to
continue the ride.
And I laughed at her when she begged me. "Bitch," I shouted,
slapping her face left and right, rocking her head to and fro with
my laps. "Lousy bitch. Sure, I'll give it to you. Is that what
you want? You want me to give it to you? Sure. Here's how I'll
give it to you." I laughed and began jacking myself off on top of
her.
And then I shot my come in her face. I whacked myself to a
come, and then shot the load in her face. And, as I had done on
another occasion with another broad, I used my dick as a brush,
and smeared her face with that cream. I smeared it all over her
face and daubed some to her eyes as she bawled at what I did.
But she didn't fight me. No, she didn't fight me. And I
cursed her for not fighting me. "Bitch," I shouted again.
"Bitch, you wouldn't do a damned thing to protect yourself, would
you? Why, whore? Because you love me? Ha. Is that why? Do you
hide behind the excuse behind which every woman hides? That
you'll accept anything because you love the guy? Stupid bitch."
And I climbed off her, kicked her, and then jacked off another
time and let my come fall to her bawling mouth. "Bombs away," I
called, and dropped my come smack on her mouth.
Oh, she was the same as the rest. She was the same in every
way. I knew she was, even when she refused the donkey or dog act.
Even when she wouldn't go with me on club dates where we could
fuck in public, I knew she was the same as the rest. And I hated
her for being the same even while I hated her for not doing what
the others had done. "Bitch," I would shout so often. "Filthy
bitch. You pretend to be unlike the others, but you're exactly
the same. You're exactly the same as them no matter what you
pretend."
After awhile she asked me not to visit her anymore. She said
it upset the baby. It was true the baby often began crying when I
arrived at the house, something he didn't do in that first month
of my courtship with his mother. And she used that as an excuse.
"Besides," she said one afternoon when I arrived at her apartment,
only to be left standing on the threshold, "I think it will be
better for both of us."
Suddenly I was shaken. It upset me badly. I didn't want to
be locked out. I didn't want her to win a victory over me. So I
pleaded with her, urged her to leg me enter the apartment one last
time. "For old times' sake," I pleaded. "Please let me be with
you just this one afternoon, Janice. Please."
She relented and let me in. I tried to ease the situation by
speaking of different matters. Soon we were drinking pop together
and were again on that sofa in the living room. This time,
though, she wore a dress, and she kept trying to stay away from
me. She begged me to respect her on that one last occasion.
And that's when I said, "All right, Janice. Just let me fuck
you one last time, and I'll never ask for anything else. Honest I
won't. Will you do that? Will you let me fuck you one last
time?"
She said it wouldn't work. She said there was nothing left
between us. She said I ought to go. But she didn't outright
refuse me, and I moved in for the kill. It wasn't long before she
was in my arms begging me not to go further, and yet yielding up
to me all I ever wanted. Within mere minutes, she was stripped
and we were ready for action.
That's when I suggested we go into the bedroom. "No," she
said. "The baby's awake. He'll cry." It was exactly what I
wanted. And I finally made her go with me there for the screwing.
Let that little bastard see his mother getting dicked.
He bawled, of course, in the minute I appeared. Janice
fretted, tried to soothe him, but was too hot from my constant
cunt-tickling the whole time she was soothing him. And, being the
broad she was, a broad like all broads, she flipped and let me
throw my meat to her while her kid bawled in his crib beside the
wide bed where I savagely stuck my dick deep into his mama's
narrow and small twat.
And I banged her with a vengeance. Oh, it was a beautiful
fuck. I felt my dick's head skin back and forth against the
lining of her vault, and I wanted to cream the world, so good was
the feeling. And she responded in kind, forgetting totally about
the bawling little bastard who stood in the crib, holding its
rails, screaming his torment and fear at what he witnessed.
Then when she was again up those scales, I pulled out. But
this time I didn't intend coming in her face. I had something
else planned. I went off the bed and brought from my jacket
pocket a series of silk scarves tied together the way magicians
tie scarves together. And I began inserting them to her bunghole.
She was confounded. "What are you doing?" she asked dumbly
even while she desperately tried to bring me atop her again to
ride her to that come she badly wanted. "What are you doing,
anyway?" And she cried out from the pain of taking scarves up her
ass even while she tried to get away from the stuffing act.
I told her to shut up or I would beat the shit out of her.
When she tried to fight me away, I punched her face hard, almost
knocking her out, but definitely stopping her resistance.
Meanwhile Randy bawled in his crib louder than ever.
Then I succeeded in getting every single one of those scarves
up her bunghole. I left only the tip of the final one sticking
from her rectum. It was a little red thing and looked like her
clit. And then I went back to fucking her.
Oh I had her worked up beautifully, believe me. She couldn't
get enough of my wonderful stuff. I had her crying for more,
moaning and begging that I bring her to a solid come. And you'd
never think that she had a dozen scarves tied to each other up her
asshole.
Once more when I had brought her almost to the top of the
ladder, I stopped. But now I went into another kind of action.
Even while she begged that I not halt, I was busily pulling-
yanking, and damned hard!-that long line of scarves out of her
bunghole. They seared her with the velocity with which I pulled
them out, and soon she was coming insanely, screeching from the
pain of those scarves tearing out her very asshole in their
release. And she was rocketing to the moon, crying and screeching
from the agony of her sudden violation, the ecstasy of her
anguish.
It was beautiful. It was a little thing, a side touch, but
it was beautiful. And before she could recover, I got out an
electric cock I also had brought with me in my jacket. I inserted
it to her asshole, turned up its controls to the fastest speed
imaginable, plugged its cord to the wall socket and set it in
motion. Then I took those same scarves and bound her hands and
legs, stuffed enough into her mouth to gag her, and then did the
final thing of all; I poured mustard and relish, also brought for
the purpose, over her tits and belly, inserted a hot-dog to her
twat, and took bawling Randy from his crib and turned him loose on
his mama.
It was a lovely sight. She couldn't speak, couldn't stop
fucking from that crazy electric cock up her asshole, couldn't
stop her son from licking her tits and belly and finally trying to
eat the hot-dog out of her cunt. All she could do was watch
everything in terror, and cry, cry, cry. Poor fucking stupid
idiotic bitch. She deserved everything she got.
* * *
But it was too much for me, and that's why I'm here. Don't
ask me why. Maybe there's a time when we can't go on any further.
Maybe there's a time when we suddenly come face-to-face with
ourselves, see everything we've done, and wonder why we did a
thing. I don't know. That's your job to figure out; not mine. I
only know that, once I had left Janice and her little boy in that
scene, something in me suddenly snapped, suddenly went out of me;
and I found myself crying in the middle of the street, bawling at
the traffic signals as I drove my car away in some new search for
value that I suddenly realized more than ever that I never would
find.
It's been six months now since all that happened, and nothing
since then has really mattered. I've traveled the land, crossing
and criss-crossing a nation. But there's no happiness. Do you
realize that? There's no happiness. I just can't find happiness.
And that's why I'm here, that's why I've told you everything.
Maybe by revealing my sordid soul, I'll gain some kind of grace
and salvation. I don't know. I've been thinking about religion;
but I'm not much of a religious man. Yet somehow I know
something's missing. I don't know what's missing, but something's
missing. And all I can do now is ask for help. That's all I can
do; just ask for help.
Can you help me?
The End