Chapter 1
Sandra Stevenson was having a fine time. Miami was all they said it was and she'd spent the entire afternoon beside the huge pool, slaking her thirst with gin and tonic and sharpening her appetite by watching Ronnie Jackson, the hotel lifeguard. And now she smiled as she stretched out on the bed and drank in a private, more intimate view of the muscular young man. For Ronnie was just removing his slacks.
Ronnie was anything but a drop-out. He was one of the most popular young men on the Strip and, at seventeen, he had every reason to be happy. The reason for his success lay in his hand now, and he stroked it as he looked down at Sandy Stevenson. She was an older woman, sure, but so what? Twenty bucks for five minutes, or maybe ten, was real money, and this chick had one hell of a shape for a forty-year-old. He wondered when Mrs. Nelson was going to become jealous or raise the rent. Then he swept his landlady out of his mind and smiled as he thought about his pad and the succession of chicks from the hotel he had paraded into his room.
Now I know what he had in that tight little bathing suit, Mrs. Stevenson thought, smiling. Her mouth watered as she watched the husky young man stroking his huge, stiff prick, and she groaned softly and writhed in expectation. Her legs spread slightly then, and she smiled once again and looked from the young and ready cock to the brunette thatch of pubic hair which covered her throbbing pussy. Sandy Stevenson was hot and she was ready.
Lying naked on the bed, she crooned softly and reached out for her bronzed playmate's prick. It had been years since she'd had a chance to have a muscle like that in her, and this one looked like it could do the job. Then she touched it and let her fingers wrap themselves around the pulsing hardness of the hot cock. Yes, she thought, it can do the job. Her pussy was aching and her hand squeezed the shaft and began moving the skin up and down, faster and faster. The boy's cock was very hard, very solid.
"I love your prick," she said, trying to bring it closer to her face. "I'll bet you don't disappoint many girls with it!"
"Never had any complaints yet," he smiled. He moved slowly forward. Ronnie knew what she wanted to do and he was all in favor of it. She'd brought him to his place for a fuck, but if she wanted to play a bit, that was fine with him.
"When do you have to be back, sweetheart?"
His tanned face lighted up with an indulgent smile. "In about twenty minutes, so we can't horse around too much. I'm going to give you a ride you'll never forget, but I don't have as much time right now as I'd like to have. But you'll come back," he laughed, "they always do."
Normally Sandy would be offended by a remark like that, but she knew he was right. And with a cock like that, right or wrong, she smiled, he was right-oh, so right. For Sandy wanted only one thing-his prick. And she wanted it in her, anywhere and everywhere. It was the most beautiful prick she'd ever seen and she felt she was the luckiest person in the world. Edmund was the president of Monolith Mutual Life and could certainly afford to raise her allowance twenty dollars a day. And she knew where she was going to spend it. Flat on her back with a nice juicy prick in her cunt.
"Where's your old man?"
Sandy was momentarily annoyed at the mention, but she felt the cock in her hand and drew it closer. "Never mind about him," she said. "He's busy with his stupid insurance salesmen. Just jam this luscious jewel into me, honey, and don't let's talk about things like old men."
"As you wish."
Ronnie moved to the foot of the bed and looked at the forty-year-old brunette's cunt. It was good-looking, as were her legs, stomach, tits and face. Ronnie was basically a cunt man, but he liked a nice set of tits, and these were beauts. Women's tits were never what they should be when the chicks were lying flat on their backs with their legs spread and their knees up in the air, but these were better than a lot he'd seen on some of the fifteen and sixteen-year-olds running around down by the docks. These were large but firm, worthy to be handled, grabbed, manipulated, soothed, sucked. These were respectable tits and they were connected to a respectable old broad who paid before she played.
Still looking at her tits, he knelt on the foot of the bed between her spread thighs. Holding his erect cock as though it were a sword, he moved slowly forward until he was kneeling above her expectant body. Then he looked at her, smiled, and guided his prick to the proper place. He rubbed the head up and down against her slightly, finding the entrance from the hot moisture, and he leaned forward slowly. His smile broadened as he heard her groan when the head slipped into the tight cunt and he wanted to jam it all the way up into her stomach, but he relaxed and thrust forward slowly and gently. God, he thought, for an old bitch she's tight as a kid. He pushed forward again and smiled more broadly. Her eyes were closed and she was already writhing like a wounded snake, meeting his thrusts with hungry countermoves of her own.
Ronnie reached down and lifted her knees and brought her up on her back, so that her slot was now aimed right where it should be. One of his fingers slipped into the crack of her ass as he changed the position and popped into the tight ring of her little asshole. He knew that the hungry ones wanted to be filled up as much as possible and he regretted he had only one prick to use. But now she was being filled in two holes and he brought his hips back and began to plunge into the woman ... deeper, deeper, deeper ... until he could go all the way in and come all the way out. Then his rhythm was set and he began shooting in and out of her hot, wet, clasping cunt with a maddening tempo, working his finger ever farther into her tight asshole.
Ronnie knew exactly what he was doing as he sank his cock into the woman until his balls slammed against her ass; then he'd withdraw, almost coming out of her hungry pussy. Once again he'd drive his happy, young money-maker back in, pushing her heavily against the bed. Her eyes and groans told him she was loving every second of it.
"Ooohhh, fuck me, you mad man," she groaned. Her hips were meeting his thrusts with a force that matched his, and her hands were clutching his ass.
She pulled on him, trying to help him drive his raging shaft ever deeper into the aching cavity which had needed filling for so long. "Fuck me harder, man, harder. Oooohhh!"
Ronnie always liked to hear the rich bitches say "fuck" because then he knew they were just like any other broads. In fact, he mused, they were actually worse! He knew the rich ones who stayed at the hotel-they were always his steady customers. He'd given the big eye to some other guests but they couldn't afford his rates and Ronnie would absolutely not fuck any girl over twenty for free. After six months in Miami he knew better than that.
Now, listening to the stacked broad under him groaning, gurgling and uttering encouragement, Ronnie smiled again and maintained his pace. Those two perfect tits were too much, though, and he leaned down and tried to suck one of them into his mouth. The nipple sprang to life in his mouth and her hands came up to encircle his neck and she thrust upward to meet him as she pulled his face against her tits. And the more he bit and nibbled and sucked, the wilder she became. Once again Ronnie smiled. Good old Miami beat the very shit out of Sandusky for real action. And the money was fine! He churned down and drove his cock all the way up the insurance man's wife's cunt and smiled. She loved it!
Her tits were too much and Ronnie brought both hands forward and leaned back. As he plunged into the fire-hot cunt, he massaged her tits like a Mexican maid washes clothes-hard, almost brutally. Her eyes were closed and her lips were slightly parted. And Ronnie was glad to be fucking her. She was pretty damned good-looking and Ronnie had made it his goal in life to fuck the living piss out of every good-looking woman who set foot in Dade County. He increased his speed.
The animal was possessing Sandy and she was rapidly becoming all animal. Her hips were twisting and her legs were wrapped tightly around Ronnie's back right above his hips. She had to have every inch of his delicious cock deep inside her cunt and she was jerking and pushing up and clasping her pussy, trying to eat Ronnie alive with her tiger cunt. She had to hold him in, drag him all the way in and keep him. The rubbing was driving her crazy-that smooth, moist, happy rubbing. And Sandy imagined she was being fucked by every man she'd ever seen anywhere. Just fucked good, screwed in the cunt, in the asshole, in the mouth-ah, that's what Sandy really liked-taking a cock, any cock, deep into her mouth and down her throat. Sandy almost blushed, lying on her back, being ridden like the winner of the Kentucky Derby.
Nobody knew it, least of all the men she thought about, but Sandy would fuck or suck any man from any lan' or play any game he could name for any 'mount she could count.
She loved fucking and she was proud of the fact. But she was afraid, and could only respond when a man, any man, would suggest a motel. And this handsome young thing! He was not only a stud and a handsome devil, he was smart. He was the first guy to proposition her in almost three years. She pushed up harder and felt that old volcano beginning to erupt.
She had to close her eyes. She felt she'd explode if she watched that delicious cock ramming itself all the way into her stomach. It was too much.
Now she heard the sucking noises of a terribly hungry cunt trying to eat a cock right off a man's body. The noise was real, and Sandy knew her cunt was hungry for a cock; she smiled and clutched her dear new friend more closely. Her cunt clutched his rampaging cock more tightly. The volcano was about to explode.
I'm not a whore, Sandy sang to herself as she fucked her young male prostitute. She didn't want money, she wanted meat. And she had bought it and was now having it. Soul food from a Miami hotel meat market. And it was coming. A prick, any prick, all pricks! Sandy almost fainted. All pricks. Yours! And yours, too! Hey, you! I want you, too! Sandy thought too far; the dam broke.
Her fingernails dug into Ronnie's back and her animal nature won out, taking total possession. She pulled forward, thrust forward and clamped down against Ronnie's cock. It had quivered, vibrated in her cunt, and she knew he was shooting off. The hot, sticky cum was going to explode inside her belly ... way up ... deep ... where it is warm, hot, and sex-itchy. Sandra loved this. She loved Ronnie's prick, and it was about to speak to her in soothing poetry.
Ronnie could feel the muscles of her cunt clasping against his thundering prick. She had the strongest cunt muscles he'd ever felt, and she was squeezing his cock, preparing him for his coming orgasm. And it was coming. He looked at her, rubbing her tits and jabbing one finger up her asshole. Then, with a crashing burst, he exploded his charge into her, flooding her cunt with his hot sperm. He then thrust down harder as he felt her tighten and quiver under him with steel-like tension. She was making it with him-the perfect twenty-buck fuck.
More! she screamed to herself, and she bucked and thrust upward against that beautiful prick which was flooding her hungry cunt. She screwed upward, grinding her ass heavily against the young man's and taking his cock all the way into her pussy as her raging torrent raced out, covering his prick and cascading down his wildly swinging balls. Then, in one final lunge, she jammed herself up against him and had the best orgasm she'd ever known, with only one possible exception.
Sandy relaxed, almost unconscious, and smiled in her ecstasy. To think she had almost stayed home ... home in Des Moines, Iowa. It was a small town, but there were more than thirty thousand single girls running around every night-single working girls between the ages of eighteen and twenty-two. Sandy didn't like those odds.
The hotel lifeguard was a real lifesaver!
Edmund Stevenson was having a "pow-wow" with his regional managers of the Leaders' Club. The three people sitting before him had all managed to have some of their people go out and sell large amounts of Ordinary Life and, once again, Monolith Mutual Life outsold Monolith Mutual Funds. Stevenson's job, as president of MML, was to make sure they did the same thing again next year, and he gravely surveyed the managers from his hot areas.
"Where they sold five hundred, next year I want seven-fifty," he was saying, "and I don't give a damn how you make 'em do it! Beat 'em, withhold commissions, arbitrarily shelf some policies, but make damned sure they produce fifty per cent more, and broom out all of the deadwood."
"Do you mean...?" John Sanders began.
"Absolutely," Stevenson stormed. "You know that head-hunting pays! Get a new guy in the office and send him out all pumped up, he'll sell to uncles, aunts and cousins he hasn't seen for fifteen years! He'll even buy himself. But sell the new ones, well...."
Ellen Speakman watched silently, her lips compressed. She was Boise district manager and a consistent million-dollar producer. But she didn't approve of what Stevenson was saying and she looked from him over to the young man from Biloxi. John Sanders, or Billy Jack, as he was called, was a so-called natural. He could make a good living selling double-door refrigerators in Siberia and had, in fact, once sold a set of encyclopedias to the dark little first mate of a Batavian freighter, for cash. The man didn't speak a word of English.
The other representative was Loxley Martinez, of Queens. He was writing every Puerto Rican in New York City and had founded a cult. Loxley was painfully handsome, and every time Ellen looked at him she felt as though she were going to have a bad accident. Now her hand was in her lap, gently rubbing back and forth, back and forth. Three days in Miami, in the same hotel with him! She was fifty years old-and a virgin! An experienced virgin, perhaps, but a virgin, nevertheless. She was a master handicrafter...." And so gentlemen, and you, too, Miss Speakman, we will now adjourn until our next meeting. Sweep everything about work out of your heads while down here, but remember to think constantly as you enjoy yourselves. Ask yourself: how can I double my income in the next year?
Who can I get to work for good old MML, and how? Have fun. But think positive!" He smiled as they stood to leave.
And he was damned glad. Edmund didn't know why the meetings with the agents and managers always took so long, but they did. He had picked up the phone and asked room service to send a tall Old Cabin Still and Seven-Up to the Conference room just as there was a light knock on the door. He ordered, then hung up.
"Come in," he called.
The door opened and a beautiful young lady with wildly wavy black hair, disturbing violet eyes and a fantastic shape entered the room. Her suit emphasized what it was covering.
"Mr. Stevenson?"
"Er, ah, why yes, I'm Edmund Stevenson."
"Mr. Stevenson, mah naim is Monica de la Mouchette, an' ah'm f'm Taixas?" She announced it as though it were a question.
"What may I do for you, Miss Mouchette?"
"De la Mouchette," she corrected, moving slowly toward him. "Ah'd be reah-lly beholden to yew, Mr. Stevenson, if it would be that y'all would consider me for a job?" It was another question, but she was now touching his striped necktie and looking up at him with her sparkling violet eyes. Her lashes were very long, and the jacket of her blouse gave him the idea that her tits were quite unhappy and were trying to break out-to escape and be free.
"Where are you from, my dear?" he asked.
"Houston, suh. And ah've finished up all my schoolin' so I know how to read. By the way, you sure are one handsome devil, you are, Mr. Stevenson. Did anybody ever tell y'all that? I'll bet your wife does all the time."
Stevenson always thought he had a high boiling point, but the young woman's fingernail tracing little doodles on his cheek made him know it was nonsense. He had a very low boiling point and now his hands were moist and quivering. He was about to reach out for the tantalizing young thing when the door burst open and a steady-eyed young man strode in announcing "room service". He brought the drink directly to Stevenson and stood, waiting for his money. And a tip.
"Have them put it on 1420," Stevenson said, more than slightly annoyed. In Des Moines room service always knocked-
The waiter wheeled and strode out without a word, and Stevenson couldn't help noticing a similarity in attitudes between him and the Duke of Windsor when the Duke was about twenty years old.
He then invited the young lady to sit on the sofa and he moved silently across the room to lock the door. "Must not have people breaking in on us when we're determining your qualifications, must we, ah ... Monica?"
"Oh, no sir," she smiled. She crossed her legs and Stevenson's cock began to stir in his pants. By the time he was back it had managed to stand at attention and was more than anxious to be free of the confining slacks and shorts.
He offered to share his drink with the candidate and sat beside her, eyeing the expanse of white thigh visible above her nylon. If there was anything that excited Stevenson, it was a young girl who wore a garter belt and nylons. And that cleavage! He wondered about the huge tits under the glen plaid suit coat-how much fun it would be to handle them. They reminded him of Annette Wilder, the girl who had taken his virginity so many years ago.