Chapter 8
Mark spent most of Saturday locating a suitable furnished apartment and getting settled.
But when the evening arrived, he didn't know what to do with himself. He couldn't call Candy. She was at home with Paul. He tried to reach Shirley, but she didn't answer her phone. She was out screwing around with another man, no doubt.
Shit.
Perhaps he could pick up someone, but he didn't feel like doing that. Candy was the girl he really wanted tonight. He feared that perhaps he wanted her too strongly. That was bad, because there was no future for them.
He settled down with his portable TV. There was the Gleason show, then an old movie. He could hardly keep his mind on what he was watching. He kept imagining Candy at home with Paul. For the first time, he really hated that sonofabitch.
He took consolation from the belief that Candy was as unhappy tonight as he was. It was true.
Paul was horny. He'd had a few drinks, and he wanted to bed her before their usual bedtime. In the past, she might have welcomed his advances, because she was a responsive girl. But that was before Mark had taught her how much more exciting physical love could be with a lover who knew all the techniques and wasn't too inhibited to use them. He had helped her abandon her inhibitions, also. (God, what would Paul think if she were to go down on him, as she'd done with Mark?)
She tried to fight off Paul's advances when he went after her on the sofa. But he laughed and insisted, pinning her in the corner of the couch. His mouth caught hers, and he wormed his tongue into her mouth while his hand roamed her front, from crotch to titties.
She still wore the snug capris, along with a sleeveless blouse that buttoned down the back and drew taut across the quivering, high tips of her titties. Her husband's hand mauled those beautiful boobs, then dug down into the hot canyon between her thighs, where the fabrics of her pants and panties clung to the soft lips of her pussy.
Tn spite of herself, she became aroused, and she couldn't continue the resistance. Paul pulled her forward and kissed her crushingly, with his tongue in her mouth. At the same time, his thick hand fumbled open the buttons at her back. When he released her to let her lie back against the couch, he drew her blouse forward and down off her shoulders. It slid along her arms, and he tossed it away.
Candy's white bra was exposed, and it was excitingly packed with a pair of firm, full titties which never failed to arouse the he-man (or was it the baby?) in Paul. Candy liked to have her tits sucked. But not as much as Paul seemed to want to do it. She wished he would apply some of that sucking, tonguing impulse where it would do her more good.
However, she let him take her bra off, liberating those luscious tits. They stood high and haughty, their pink stems extended toward his eager lips.
With a growl, he bent to them, clamping his wet mouth around one gorgeous nipple while his hand worked the other spongy-firm boob. He sucked the titty and titillated it with his tongue tip. One hand continued to knead the other breast, and his other hand slid up and down, up and down, in her crotch.
Candy's legs spread farther. She found herself pushing forward against the caress. She felt moisture dribbling in her twat. Her clit was up, giving her the female version of a hard-on.
Her hand dropped into Paul's lap and discovered his prick pushing for freedom against the interior of his shorts and slacks.
Why not let it out? This seemed like the wifely thing to do.
She unzipped his fly, wormed her hand into his shorts, gripped the husky pecker, and brought it out into the open air. She slid its foreskin back. It locked into rigid erection, the head swollen large.
Candy wished it were Mark's prick she was fondling. But she was hot enough now to appreciate the prick that was closest, and Paul was her husband, after all.
He switched titties. He clamped onto the hitherto dry nipple and pulled it deeply into his warm, wet mouth. He laved it with his circling tongue as he sucked.
What a jug! Even though he could get nothing out of it, he became as light-headed as if he were sucking booze.
He rolled her other titty with his hand, delighting in its pliant fullness as it jutted forward on her chest. He pressed his mouth harder against the one he was kissing, and he got the same pleasurable sensation of taut resiliency. His tongue bent her rubbery nipple back and forth in his mouth. He twirled it.
Candy was stroking his foreskin up and down against the sensitive ridge of his cockhead. Her cunt was growing hotter and hotter. Wetter, as well.
She wished he would pull her pants off, and her panties. She wanted him to get down onto his knees between her spread thighs and have a feast at her split. Oh, what his tongue could do for her down there right now, if he would only use it!
But, no. Not Paul. He was strictly a suck-titty, screw-pussy man. What a refreshing change it would be if he were to screw her tits after he'd sucked her cunt.
Finally he did relinquish her knockers, letting them spring free and bob a few times on her chest, and his hands slid down to catch the top of her stretch pants. He pulled them down, along with the bikini briefs she wore underneath. She raised her rump off the couch.
Paul pulled the two garments along her legs. She raised her legs and bicycled them to permit him to remove the pants and panties from her feet. He eyed her blonde fluff and the juicy, pink slit which extended below the main puff of hair.
He shoved her creamy thighs wide apart.
Now! she thought. Goddamn you, get down and eat it!
But, of course, he didn't.
He got up and fumbled his clothes away. His hard cock bobbed and swung.
"Lie down on the couch," he whispered huskily.
She turned and stretched out, letting one leg fall to the floor while she hooked the other over the back of the sofa. He gazed with lust at her split, moist pussy. He could hardly wait to drive his bone-hard pecker into it.
He got on top of her, and his rod came crashing in, sinking deep (but not as deeply as Mark's, when he finally got around to screwing). Paul began to pull and thrust, withdrawing nearly all the way, slamming in again, out and in, up and down-screw, screw, screw!
She screwed back at him, though her mind was full of resentment.
She closed her eyes, arched herself, and ground her sopping cunt against his prick thrusts. Her titties shook, and he turned his head to capture a quivering nipple in his mouth. He sucked on it as he humped her.
Her heart wasn't in the act, however. She rose toward orgasm more slowly than usual. Paul, on the other hand, was faster tonight. He moved more rapidly, switching to short strokes. He was going for the finish, and she knew she wouldn't make it with him.
He ejaculated into her cunt, and she wailed in disappointment.
This hurt Paul, even as the waves of orgasm shook his body. And it surprised him. He couldn't remember ever before having failed to satisfy Candy.
"What was the matter?" he asked, breathing hard at the conclusion of his exertions.
"I don't know," she moaned.
But, of course, she did. She had wanted Mark and the way he made love. Paul just didn't satisfy her any more.
He removed his wet, soft pecker from her quim, and pushed himself to his feet. Candy whined and writhed against the sofa. He gazed down at her.
"Did Mark always make you come?" he asked.
"Don't talk about him!" Her eyes were shut, and she faced the back of the couch.
"Maybe we ought to. Maybe you've got a thing for him, huh?"
"That's silly!"
Her legs remained open. Her cunt was rosy and moist, its little lips still parted. The blonde hairs along the meaty folds were matted down with juice.
He could use his finger, he supposed, and give her a come. But why should he? It was her fault, not his, that she hadn't gotten there.
He began to gather up his clothes.
Candy fled to the bathroom. She squatted on the John and diddled herself with her hand.
It was a hell of a way to finish off a Saturday night.
Perhaps she and Mark could get together tomorrow. If Paul played golf, as usual on Sunday, she would contact Mark at the motel where she assumed he was still staying.
Sunday was a bright and beautiful day.
Ginger had been low the night before, but the morning sunshine perked her up. She couldn't go on feeling sorry for herself. If everything really was over, between Mark and her, she still had a life to lead.
She bathed leisurely, took a light breakfast, and went out to water the plants at the front of her house. Perhaps she would be giving up the place soon, but for the moment this little chore gave her a sense of stability, and that was what she needed.
She glanced down the street and, for the first time, became aware that she had new neighbors. A black family had indeed moved into-the old Munson place. The wife was out front, looking over the lawn.
Impulsively, Ginger put down her hose and headed down the street.
"Hi!" she called cheerily to the brown-skinned woman in white shorts and matching top. Jean turned and smiled. "Hello."
"I'm Virginia Hatcher. Everybody calls me Ginger. I live a couple of doors down. I'd like to welcome you to the neighborhood."
"That's very nice. Thank you. I'm sure we're going to be happy here. I'm Jean Compton, and my husband's name is Joe.
Something stirred within Ginger as she took in the exotic beauty of this voluptuous, young Negro woman. She had lush, thrusting tits, and her shorts clung closely to the cute mound at the base of her belly. Her waist was slim and her thighs lusciously full.
Ginger didn't make her inspection of the other woman's charms obvious. The black girl was a neighbor, and therefore off-limits. But if she had lived anywhere else, Ginger would have gone after her quickly.
"Would you like a cup of coffee?" Jean inquired with a smile.
"Sounds great. I'm just about due for my second cup of the morning."
"Come on in. The percolator's still fired up."
Ginger followed Jean into the house.
"Is your husband at home?" Ginger asked.
"Not at the moment. He had to run an errand. Hell be back soon, though. He took the kids with him. We have two of them."
"My husband isn't home, either," Ginger said, as they entered the cheerful kitchen. "He's ... away for a few days. We don't have any children."
"What a shame. Kids are the greatest. Do you take cream and sugar?"
"A little cream only, please."
"You'll have to excuse the place. We're not really settled yet.
"I know how it is," Ginger said.
Actually, the house was in pretty good order. There were a few boxes here and there, waiting to be unpacked, but everything seemed neat and clean.
The two women sat down at the table with their coffee and quickly got acquainted. Ginger liked the other girl. She seemed very natural and friendly.
However, there was something going on behind the black girl's eyes which would have surprised Ginger if she'd been aware of it. Working as she did, in the world of show business, and leading an unconventional social life, Jean knew all kinds of people, and she was particularly adept at spotting those with unusual sex interests.
She had been watching Ginger's eyes, and they'd told her a lot: The woman was queer.
Oh, the beautiful redhead hadn't been trying to seduce her. On the contrary, she'd been attempting to keep her special interest in Jean's opulent charms a secret. But her eyes had flickered to the cleft of her titties, which showed at the low-cut neckline of Jean's blouse. And at least twice, she'd looked directly at Jean's crotch.
Jean thought, What luck to come across a type like this, living right down the street! She's married, so that means she's a switch-hitter. Joe and I can have a fine time with HER!
Jean could never have lived as she did without following the rule of grab while the grabbing's good. Joe was the same way. Whenever possible, they endeavored to share their catches with each other.
With luck, Joe would be home in just a few minutes, and this cute redhead was a hot catch to share.
After Ginger and Jean got up from the table, the latter made it a point to brush-hips with her new friend. Ginger's eyes flashed as she looked at Jean. (Actually, the flash traveled all the way through her.)
"Oh. Sorry," Jean purred. She lowered her lids a little.
"It was all right," Ginger said, watching the other woman intently.
Jean moved close again. She placed a hand against Ginger's back and slid it down over the seat of her skirt, caressing her ass deftly. "You're nice and firm," Jean said.
Ginger's nerves were running riot.
Never in the world had she expected anything like this, right in her own neighborhood. Jean's touch, and the way she was looking at her, had really turned her on.
Since Jean had initiated the thing, it was all right to pursue it, Ginger decided. Oh, but Jean's husband was due to come home at any moment!
"I'm interested," Ginger said flat-out. "But your husband's coming right back, isn't he?"
"Don't let that worry you," Jean replied in a velvety tone, as her skilled fingers moved over Ginger's tits. "Well hear him drive up."
"Oh, God, it's so risky!"
"So, what's life without a few risks? Anyway, I'm horny as hell this morning. How about you?"
"Yesss," Ginger admitted. "Then let's make it, girl!"
"Where?" Ginger asked huskily. "The bedroom. Come on."
With excitement pounding through every cell and fiber of her body, Ginger followed the exotic black girl. The moment they arrived in the bedroom, Jean took charge.
She didn't even bother to shut the door before pulling Ginger into her arms and pressing her thick, sweet lips against Ginger's parted ones. Jean's tongue entered Ginger's mouth. The colored girl's hands toured Ginger's back, finally sliding down around the cheeks of her bottom. She kneaded the pliant hemispheres through Ginger's skirt and pants.
Jean's next move was to pull up the other woman's dress. She did this deftly and wrapped her hands around Ginger's buttocks, with only the whisper-thin, silken panties in between. Jean gazed into the mirror behind Ginger and watched her dark hands work those lush, panty-clad globes.
Moisture began to seep in Jean's quick-responding quim.
Ginger was every bit as hot. Her head spun lightly.
She stood there on weak legs and let Jean rub her ass all over, rolling and jiggling the responsive buttocks. Finally the black girl pulled the elastic of her pale-pink panties away from her back and slid both hands down inside the pants, to cup Ginger's ass-cheeks directly.
She held and squeezed Ginger's bottom, pulling her belly snugly against her own. Ginger's tits dug into Jean's, through their clothes.
"Oh, God!" Ginger exclaimed, panting. "Let's get on the fuckin' bed!"
"But not to fuck," Jean stipulated. "It's a sixty-nine or nothing, baby."
"Oh, yes! Sixty-nine!"
Jean pulled Ginger's pants down, carrying them far enough to let gravity complete the job. She quickly unfastened Ginger's dress and pulled it up. She unhooked Ginger's bra and whipped it away so briskly that the white woman's tits jiggled up and down.
"Oh, you're nice!" Jean exclaimed. "I wanta eat you!"
Ginger turned to the bed and rolled onto it happily. She'd forgotten the open door and the fact that Jean's husband was coming right home.
Jean quickly stripped. Ginger watched through impassioned eyes as Jean's bulging, round titties bounced out of her bra. Jean swept her white briefs down, revealing a cute belly and outer black-fuzzed mound.
"I want it ... I want it!" Ginger cried. She'd never made the scene with a black girl before. This was going to be an exceptional treat!
Jean went to her, and the two women rolled back and forth on the bed, tightly clasped in each other's arms. Titties crushed titties. Cunt burned and writhed against cunt. Their hands clasped each other's ass.
They kissed hungrily, stroking tongues.
Ginger was grooving. Jean's mouth tasted marvelously sweet. Her tits were like well-inflated air pillows of exquisite shape. Ginger's nipples were as hard as they had ever been. If the other girl's tits had really been inflated with air, Ginger's rigid spikes would have pricked them.
Jean began to kiss downward along Ginger's body, and the redhead rolled onto her back, flinging her arms and legs wide open. She gasped and moaned with delight as the black girl's thick lips tugged at her nipples, lashing them with an anxious tongue.
That tongue skidded all over Ginger's middle-in and out of her belly button and down ... down ... down into her girl fur. Jean gripped her legs and parted them even farther. She dived into Ginger's teasingly-scented crotch and turned her head slightly to mash her eager mouth against the dewy cunt lips. Jean's tongue searched the tender folds of flesh.
Ginger whined with delight and dug her hands into the other woman's bushy hair.
Jean's tongue found the honey hole and shoved into it.
"Oooo!" Ginger squealed.
Jean's tongue fluttered in and out ... in and out. Oh, God, if she didn't stop that and twist around right now, Ginger was going to blast off alone!
Ginger gripped the other woman's head and lifted her away from the blissfully-throbbing cunt. "I want you, too!" Ginger panted. "You got me, baby!"
Jean quickly reversed her position, tossing a leg over Ginger's form. She backed up. Ginger gazed at the approaching black ass, split widely. She got a teasing whiff of asshole, then Jean's fuzzy cunt was right above her mouth and nose, and its musky tang canceled out the other.
Jean dropped her dark bun to Ginger's open mouth. Ginger's lips clamped hungrily onto the juicy, soft quim and began to suck. Her tongue fluttered up, snaking into Jean's cunt-hole, out, and in again. As Jean settled more firmly onto Ginger's mouth, the latter's tongue remained up in Jean's channel all the time, fluttering but never leaving the warm confines of the pussy. Ginger kept sucking, also. Her face was bathed in cunt juice. She breathed the exotic aromas of the female crotch.
The black girl gave as good as she received. Perhaps better. Since she was on top, she could move more freely. She licked Ginger's flaming cunt all over-in and out, up and down, this side, that side, in the tuft above and through the sparse hairs along each edge.
Jean's tongue was a deftly applied tool of intense titillation as it flickered and slid against the tingling, moist flesh. Finally it dug deeper into the folds of fevered flesh, working the meaty membranes this way and that. It found the clitty and gave that pure hell.
Ginger was so stimulated that she bit Jean's cunt as she went at it with gusto. She swallowed great quantities of Jean's slippery syrup. Her tongue was like a leaping flame. Jean circled and bobbed above Ginger's marvelous mouth, and she went at Ginger's clit all the stronger, pushing it with her tongue tip, twirling it, clamping it between her lips and nibbling as she sucked on it gently.
"Hello, ladies!"
At the sound of the deep-pitched masculine greeting, Jean looked up and Ginger grasped Jean's hips to shove them aside so she could see who had spoken.
Of course, she knew before she saw. She remembered that Jean's husband, was expected home. Now he had arrived.
She gazed at him in sudden shock. He was huge and muscular, and blacker than Jean. He wore blue pants and a white T-shirt, which clung to his husky chest and shoulders.
He was grinning down at them.
"Hello, baby," Jean said matter-of-facrly. "This is Ginger Hatcher, one of our neighbors."
"Glad to know you, Ginger," Joe said, and he jerked his belt open.
She was utterly stunned. Her passion, which had reached a quivering high peak, was frozen there. She was trapped beneath Jean-her legs open, her back against the bed-and she was unable to move any portion of her anatomy, except her head. Jean was, at least, holding her crotch away from Ginger's face.
Joe dropped his pants, revealing a huge bulge in his Jockey briefs.
Ginger finally recovered the ability to speak and move.
"No!" she cried, and began to struggle against Jean.
But the struggling proved futile. Jean bore down on her and bent her fuzzy head into Ginger's crotch. "Easy, baby ... easy," she said, and she resumed licking at Ginger's cunt.
Joe's shirt was off. He watched his wife go at the white woman as he yanked down his shorts. His big dick sprang up. It looked fearsome as a billy club.
Ginger gazed at it, wide-eyed. She stopped struggling. Jean's tongue on her cunt was bringing her passion up again. Also, the black man's cock exerted a strange fascination.
"All right, girl," Joe told his wife gently. "Let me have a crack at the neighbor lady." But he smiled warmly at Ginger as he said it.
Jean dismounted carefully but she continued to hold Ginger in place. She glanced at the door to confirm that Joe had set the bolt lock which they'd installed. It wouldn't be good to have the children strolling in.
Joe approached Ginger with his massive prick standing out and up. God, what a head on that monster! she thought. And the shaft's as thick as my wrist!
Fear overcame her momentary fascination, and again she screamed, "No!"
Jean bent toward her and murmured, "Baby, it's gonna be fun." She kissed her cheek and petted her.
Joe gently parted Ginger's legs again and knelt between them.