Introduction
This racy novel of "straight" and "queer" sex in all its variations was written by Lee Somoso who ran a karate school in New York before embarking on his literary career abroad. "In and Out" was originally published simultaneously in Paris and London. It became a bestseller within a matter of weeks and then was banned in London with Paris following suit shortly afterwards. It has since enjoyed considerable underground success among collectors of modern literary erotica and is published for the first time by Continental Classics.
A good deal of the uninhibited behavior of the story's amoral characters can be better understood in the light of the following from the case histories of the well-known psychoanalyst, Dr. S. Scymanski :
"Sexual intercourse is the most primitive, yet the universally understood language -nature's bridge between individuals. Yes, it may succeed when each partner in the communication speaks out loud to himself as if the other person were not present. (This is the case in sexual arousal by fantasies).
"Freud has described a certain type of man who is impotent, or unable to communicate sexually, with women whom they consider as belonging to the mother or sister group. Such men can achieve their full sexual potency only in intercourse with women whom they consider akin to prostitutes. In my own practice, I frequently see this kind of division in the sex life of some men, particulraly individuals with strong subconscious homosexual tendencies. One such patient could rarely achieve an erection or copulate with his wife, of whom he said she was 'too much of a lady'. What he meant became clearer when he mentioned he had never seen her wholly disrobed. In addition, he said, 'I wish she were more of a whore'.
"It was not too difficult to explain to him that the expression 'too much of a lady' concerned her sex behavior or, rather, brought her akin to his mother and thus made her sexually taboo. The patient's strong homosexual tendencies lessened with continued therapy and he was eventually able to have normal intercourse with his wife."
It is suggested in view of these remarks and the description by the author of "In and Out" of certain abnormal and perverted sex practices, that the reader exercise caution in jumping to conclusions about his own or his friends' behavior. Only a professional analyst can help serious emotional or sexual difficulties.
Continental Classics presents this story unabridged and unexpurgated. This is classified as adult reading matter and is recommended for graduate students and mature adults only.
Herbert Ross, M.A. New York City March, 1968
Archive Note: The truly amazing number of misspellings in the original pocketbook are faithfully reproduced in this text. No attempt whatsoever has been made to correct the misspelled or misused words.
Archive Note: In the original pocketbook, there are sections labeled as 'NUMBER I', AND 'NUMBER 3'; however, there is no 'NUMBER 2'.
Chapter I.
In which it is related how Monsieur is blackmailed.
In the city of New York, toward the northern end of Courtney Street, one may discover the antique shop of M. Andre Fontaine. An innocent looking establishment is M. Fontaine's,-the window being crowded with porcelains and bronzes, rugs and furniture, ivories and lacquer-work. The interior is roomy and lofty and the walls are completely covered with rugs and tapestries. M. Fontaine knew his business well and numbered in his clientelle the richest of the rich. A bland and polished gentleman was M. Fon taine; he was always smartly groomed and meticulously attired. Of medium height, slim and wiry, he was alive to the tips of his manicured fingers and the ends of his tightly waxed mustache, which he had a habit of twisting when he was well pleased with himself and the world.
Let us repeat that the antique shop was, to ordinary intents an innocent looking place. Yet, if you were admitted to the large room behind the store, one would be not only astonished, but also amused -yes, even pleasurably excited. For there M. Fontaine carried on a business which was, at times, more lucrative than the selling of antiques.
Being a handsome man, well provided by nature for sexual activity, the antique dealer had discovered, early in his career, that he met with great favor in the eyes of women. He had speedily taken advantage of his opportunities, often guiding lady customers to the room behind the shop, and there, on some magnificant and costly divan, had fucked them soundly and to their satisfaction.
In the course of his business he had come into contact with men and women who enjoyed endulging in strange and fantastic sexual experiences. There were men who liked to suck cocks and men who prefered to suck cunts, men who wanted to fuck other men in the arse and men who wanted nothing better in the world than to be fucked in the arse. There were men and women who liked to suck and be sucked at the same time and there were many who were willing, nay, anxious, to go any limit, prefering to carry on their voluptious acts not with one individual alone, but with many at the same time.
Now M. Fontaine, you must understand, was a very tolerant man, whose favorite word was: "Every one to his own tastes." So he quickly conceived the idea of bringing together clients of his so that they might, in the rear room, indulge themselves to satiety in any fashion they pleased. Of course the owner of the shop did not function as a gobetween merely to oblige his patrons, and to be sure the patrons were quite able and willing to reward him handsomely.
As time went on M. Fontaine became rather prosperous and came to the decision that it would be rather well for him to put his rear-room side line on a firm business foundation. So he cleared out the room of surplus stock, which he had been wont to keep there, and hired out of town craftsmen to divide it into small rooms. The completion of the job found eight small rooms built to the ceiling, four on each side, with a corridor between. Each room was accoutred with a splendid couch, a wardrobe, a small table, two chairs, a rug on the floor and a toilet and wash stand curtained off in a corner. The walls were finely decorated and the rooms were illuminated with electric lamps shaded with such hues as pink, sky-blue, violet and orange. Exotic incense was assiduously used, so that the place glowed with a seductive and sybaritic aura. Each room was supplied with pictures, showing the weird fucking proclivity of men and women, and also with books describing all manners of fucking matches, so as to beguile the clients while they were waiting to be introduced to their desired love mates.
The establishment was so arranged that it was not necessary for the patrons to enter by way of the shop. Alongside the store was a hallway leading to the upper part of the building and at the end of this hallway there were two doors. One gave access to the basement while the other led to an antiroom. The latter door would be opened by means of an automatic latch when the visitor pressed a push-button. He would then come in, select a mask from a cabinet, which contained a stock of them, and ring for the attendant. When the latter arrived through another door, which led to the chambers of Paradise and which was always locked, the client, assured by the mask that his identity was secret, would inform the attendant of the particular joys desired. That functionary would then admit the visitor, collecting the fee of twenty dollars, and escort him to a room where he could feast his eyes on the portrayings of forbidden happiness and his mind with the zestful tales to be read in the books. Presently, the proper fucking partner would be ushered in, and the time would be rounded out in one feverish orgy of unleashed delight.
The attendant, who had served M. Fontaine for a long time, was a plump young man by the name of Louis. However, everyone called him, or we should rather say "Her" Lucy, for although she wore trousers, Lucy was very effiminate, being possessed of a girlish face and figure and very ladylike manners. She used powder and rouge, effected an evasive scent, and smoked per turned cigarettes. Her voice was melodious and she was very engaging in her dealings with clients. In fact, she often had sexual dealings with some of them, for Lucy's greatest enjoyment lay in sucking big pricks and being fucked in the arse. A very good joke concerning Lucy went the rounds to the amusement of all who heard it. Another fairy, once angry at something Lucy had done, said petulently:
"Oh, go on! You'd suck a prick a mile long."
"Who wouldn't?" Lucy had asked innocently.
Lucy was well paid by her employer and was permitted to sell cigarettes and liquor to customers as a side line, much to her own profit. And so the establishment of M. Fontaine went merrily on, doing a thriving business, for one client led to another. The proprietor specified certain hours for his patrons, -from two in the afternoon until midnight
He was afraid to keep open after midnight as the street was deserted then and the comings and goings of visitors would attract too much attention.
And now we must go on to another character in our story, -none other than the redoubtable Mr. Walsh, a patrolman on the beat. Walsh had the eight in the evening to four in the morning shift. He "ras the usual sort of policeman, -tall, well proportioned, with a brusque approach, and a stridant penetrating voice. Also, he was more ®ks servant and suspicious than the average officer.
Walsh's first suspicions came to birth on one of those warm spring evenings when "a young man's fancy lightly turns to thoughts of cunt." He was loitering at the corner, as policemen have a habit of doing, a half block away from Fontaine's, when a luxurious limousine drew up to the curb. A beautiful woman, charmingly dressed, stepped out, dis missed the chauffeur and started to walk down the street. Walsh drew in his breath with a sibilant sound as he watched the captivating swing of her lovely buttocks.
"Oh man!" he murmured. Wouldn't I like to lay that one! Look at that ass, will you? Paper's too good for it."
He sauntered along behind her, twirling his club, his eyes glued to the graceful and intrigueing curves moving before him. She stopped at the hallway besides Fontaine's, glanced around furtively, and entered. Walsh hastened his steps.
"Wonder what she's doing in that dump?" Walsh asked himself.
As he came abreast of the hallway he peered in. By the light of the lamp he could see her standing by the rear door, her finger pressing the button. He heard the latch click and she disappeared within.
"She's going into the back of the antiquf joint," he deduced. "What kind of attraction is there in there?"
He walked a few steps and looked into Fontaine's well illuminated window. The shop was deserted. Fontaine's closed at six.
"Well, I suppose she was invited to see some rare dew-dad or other. But this is the first time I've noticed that Fontaine uses that rear door for a private entrance. Gee maybe the frog invited her there for a little fucking. Oh well. That's his business."
Walsh tried to dismiss the matter from his mind, but the lovely woman and her splendid swinging hips stuck like a cactus in his memory. He walked along awhile and later returned. He came in time to see a man leave the building.
"Guess he came from upstairs," reflected Walsh. "He looks like a swell, though, so maybe he's been visiting the frog too. He must be having some kind of a private ®ale."
Between ten and twelve, the patrolman remarked that quite a few prosperous-appearing men and women came and went, to and from Fontaine's, and yet, not one that arrived came up to the building in a machine.
"Something funny in that," muttered the officer, for he was frankly puzzled. "It can't be a liquor joint. These people get their private stock from their protected night clubs. They don't have to worry about booze." Then suddenly: "I wonder if it's dope! That's worth looking into, even if these birds don't look like junk-heads."
After midnight the place was quiet, and and Walsh pounded his beat, his mind filled with suspicions.
On the following evening the results of the patrolman's observations were the same. He was now more than convinced that something unusual was going on in the rear room of Fontaine's. At about eleven o'clock he entered the hallway and going to the rear, tried the door. It was locked. He then tried the door to the basement and found it open. Stepping down, he closed it, leaving a crack to peer through. No new visitors came, but towards the half-hour people began to leave, one at a time. All bore the stamp of wealth. Walsh decided on a bold move. He came into the open and pushed the button. A half minute passed in silence and then the latch clicked. He went in and found himself alone in a very small room, lighted by a single lamp. All he could see was a small table with a cabinet on it and another door before him. Behind it he could hear faint muffled voices. The cabinet secured his attention, so he pulled open a drawer. He found a few black masks, with adjustable cords such as people wear at masquerade affairs. He opened the other two drawers. More masks. Then he noticed a push-button on the wall. He applied pressure with his thumb and heard a buzzer respond from within. A moment later Lucy appeared, neatly apparelled and simmering with a distinct nimbus of femininity.
On seeing the uniformed officer. Lucy showed unmistakable alarm and slammed the door shut behind her.
"What's going on in there?" demanded Walsh in a sharp voice.
"Why, ah yon see, officer, Mr. Fontaine is giving lectures on antiques in the evenings nowadays to stimulate sales and you know, a great many of the elite are attending."
"I see," said Walsh. "Well, I just wanted to make sure that nothing was wrong."
"Yes, of course, officer," murmured Lucy in a relieved tone.
"That's very nice of you. Thank you very much."
"But what are these masks doing here," asked the policeman pointing to an open draw in the cabinet.
"Oh, I don't know, casually, Mr. Fon taine must have bought them somewhere. He's always buying things he doesn't need."
"Uh, huh. Well, good night."
"Good night, officer."
Out on the sidewalk Walsh growled under his breath. **That damned fairy was lying like hell. I'm going to find out what's doing in that layout. Let's see. I'll give it the once over tomorrow afternoon, while the shop's open and I'm off duty. If these people keep coming in the back way in the afternoon, then I'm positive there's something smelling bad in Copenhagen."
Walsh awoke the following day at noon, very impatient to further investigate the strange comings and goings at the establishment of Mr. Fontaine. He was like a bloodhound on a scent. Suddenly he was struck with the idea of, as he expressed it, "crushing the joint" He acted immediately on the thought by putting on fine linen, donning a civilian business suit of aristocratic black, topping himself off with a black derby. He also added the touch of a silk handkerchief for the breast pocket and a cane for his wrist. He had found it one night on his beat and he carried it a trifle clumsily, for the technique was rather different from that of the club.
It was almost three o'clock when he idled along the opposite side of the street from Fontaine's. He was rewarded within a half hour with the individual appearance of three men and four women, who entered the hallway and made for the rear. The patrolman's last doubt melted away.
"Here goes," he said to himself. "I'll probably make a hash of it, but I can't lose anything."
A few minutes after he pushed the button, the lock clicked and he went into the ante-room. He opened the drawers of the cabinet and noticed that there were more masks than he had seen the previous evening.
"That settles that," he grunted grimly.
'They all wear masks when they go in, so this little boy does the same."
He put on a mask and adjusted it tightly. Then, being a man of little hesitation he pressed the button and heard the buzzer sound above the vague murmur of voices behind the door. He did not have long to wait. Lucy appeared, fresh as a daisy.
"Good afternoon," he saluted Walsh with a broad a.
"Good afternoon," the officer replied in a low disguised voice imitating the broadness of the a.
"You wish a lady or a gentleman?" came the astounding question with ingrating inflexion.
Oho, thought Walsh. It's all coming out now. "A lady," he answered tensely. "In the usual way -or otherwise?" "The usual way."
"Very well, sir. You will pay the usual fee."
Walsh thought fast and took a chance. "Ten dollars, isn't it?"
"Oh, no! You must have forgotten. Twenty dollars."
"Oh you," mumbled the policeman, and he reached for his wallet. He extracted two ten dollar notes, which almost exhausted his cash, and tendered them to Lucy. The latter opened the door with a key, for it had locked automatically behind her, and inclined her head for Walsh to follow. They entered the room of mystery. The policeman was a bit bewildered by the soft lights and the penetrating perfume. Lucy led him to a vacant room and promised to return soon with a lady.
"Twenty dollars," thought Walsh. "And he gets that from every bird that comes in, eh? A good business I call it A fucking good business." And he chuckled at his own witticism.
His eyes became engrossed with the pictures on the walls. He had often seen such pictures, but none as good as these. One particularly captured his attention. It showed a man sucking a woman's cunt while another man fucked him in the anus. The policeman's peter soon began to rise and his tongue became thick in his mouth. When he had exhausted the pictures he listened with amusement to the sounds made by the revelers in the other rooms. Then he started all over on the pictures noticing little things he hadn't seen before. The delightfulness of firm round flesh inflamed his desires so that he was unconscious of the passage of time. He was brought to his senses by the entrance of a masked woman, beautifully dressed, and exquisitely formed. She set the automatic lock as she closed the door and turned to Walsh with a dazzling smile, her perfect teeth glistening in a carmine setting and her eyes sparkling through her mask.
"How do you do?" she greeted him with composure.
Walsh's heart began to pound and he found speech difficult Licking his lips he managed to get out a whisper:
"All right. And how are you?"
She came to him, still smiling, and held out her arms for an embrace. Walsh reached mechanically. He crushed her to him, but with a throaty laugh she bent backward, drawing him with her. She finally surrendered and responded to his burning kisses.
"You're beautiful," he murmured, huskily.
"How original you are," she laughed. "Will you help me out of my clothes?"
The officer assisted her with trembling fingers, feeling all parts of her warm and pulsating body, -her breasts, her waist and buttocks, her perfectly rhymed thighs and he finally got his hand on the cherished slit between her legs. He smoothed aside the downy herbage around her vulva and inserted his finger. Withdrawing it a little moist, he brought it to his eager nostrils and sniffed, the while she laughed intoxicatingly at his antics. She was now naked and wanted to help him off with lightening speed. Then they sat down on the couch and he played with her cunt while she toyed with his penis.
"Stalwart as a soldier, ready for battle, isn't he?" she murmured languidly. "How ambitious he is. I'm beginning to feel good now, so let's do it. Are you ready?"
She stretched out on the couch, lifted her lovely legs up and apart and Walsh spread a towel and a pillow under her plump buttocks. Then he mounted to perform his duty. With her help he eased his rigid member into her vagina, which was warm and moist and she twined her limbs tightly about his. Resting firmly on his knees, he placed one hand under her, while with the other he explored all of her jewels that he was able to. She on her part, reached her arms around him and gripped the cheeks of his arse with both hands.
And gently they moved their buttocks together and apart, drawing away from each other only for the purpose of coming together again. They were well-matched, for the fit was not too tight and yet not too loose, and at every stroke he plunged his sword as far as it would go into it's scabbard. And his bollicks began to drum a tattoo against her buttocks. She sighed, entranced, and murmured endearments to him.
"You're wonderful, wonderful."
"And you're all right, too," he replied, being now perfectly at home, and feeling altogether the dominant male.
Faster, faster, they went. The ancient and hallowed rhythm of love. More and more excited they became. Now they were both perspiring and breathing hard, their flesh was on fire; all the world was forgotten; only the moment of passion mattered. But all things come to an end. Walsh was the first to come. He announced it to her beforehand, regretfully.
"I'll be with you in a minute," she told him in a trembling breath. "Ah! Ah! Faster! Faster! Hold me tighter. I'm coming! Ah!"
She melted away before his prick grew soft and they rested in each others arms at peace with all things and completely contented. They had fulfilled themselves, had justified their existence with the universe. A minute thus, and at her unexpressed desire, which he divined instinctively, they separated and washed their parts, chatting gaily the while.
"I feel like a stimulant," she said. Shall we ring for some cognac and cigarettes?" "Sure, of course."
She rang and Lucy came promptly. Walsh opened the door a bit and communicated their needs to her. And doing so he made an error. He forgot to disguise his voice and the attendant immediately recog nized him, for she was extremely sensitive to sounds. However, she brought the cognac and cigarettes on a tray which she handed in through the partly opened door.
"I'll pay you afterwoods," said Walsh.
Lucy was in a panic. She speedily acquainted her employer, who was in the shop, with the condition of affairs.
"We'll all go to jail now," she lamented with a sob in her throat
"You must keep calm," advised M. Fontaine gently. "Everything will be all right I assure you. I have foreseen this for some time. I knew something like it would happen sooner or later. Of course I shall have to pa> blackmail to him. But I wonder how much. Or rather how little."
"Oh, what shall I do?" asked Lucy mournfully.
"You must attend to your duties and let me do the worrying," said M. Fontaine. "You must not forget that most of our patrons are rich and influential. Such people do not go to jail. Everything will be all right, so go back now."
Lucy returned to her menage but could not regain her customary confidence.
Meanwhile, the masked lady was sitting in Walsh's lap, his cock between her legs. They had tossed off their cognac and were smoking cigarettes and conversing. The policeman drew the conversation into a dangerous channel.
"Do you do it any other fashion?" he asked with a nervous catch in his throat. His lips seemed suddenly to have gone dry, for he licked them two or three times.
"I? Oh no!" she answered, her underlip curling in scorn. "If you wanted someone to do it in ways different than the natural you should have told the attendant."
"Aw! Don't get mad!" pleaded Walsh. "I didn't mean anything. I was just asking, that's all, just curious."
Her jolly feelings were soon restored and they discarded their cigarettes. Then they began Jo play with each other. He rubbed her slit while she prankishly tipped his rosy cock gently so that it swung from side to side. They kissed and bit each other lightly, thus developing their reviving passion. He also took a great delight in sucking the nipples of her breasts, firm and curved like young canteloups. What voluptious pleasures were theirs, -the proximity of flesh to flesh, the mingling of two desires into one and the anticipation of the coming action. Soon they were ready, for they were both young. Ah, youth -youth is always ready! And so again they travelled the road to Paradise, riding the fiery steeds of love. And again they mounted higher and higher up the steps o_ heaven until they reached the throne, the brilliant blazing goal of all lovers, -past, present, and those as yet unborn. After their climax they rested quite a while, his prick still in her vagina, both veiled in a haze of langour. Presently they arose, and with a great calm upon them, they washed and dressed. Walsh attired himself very quickly, and kissing her mischievously on the arse, made ready to leave.
"Au revoir then," she said. "Perhaps we shall meet here again. I hope so, because you carry such a fine standard with you. I generally come in the afternoon, about two or three times a week. You will not forget?"
"No, I won't forget," he promised her, but let me see your face, won't you?" and he made a move to take off her mask.
"Don't do that," she cried angrily, seizing his extended hands.
"Oh, all right!" he said soothing, "I was only fooling. Good-by!" "Good-by!" coldly.
Feeling a little foolish, Walsh let himself out and found himself in the corridor, confronted by Lucy, who was somewhat agitated.
"Well, if it isn't little Percival!" the officer remarked banteringly.
"I am known as "Lucy," was the retreat.
"Lucy! Well, well, and how's Lucy today?" raising his voice to a high pitch.
"Very well, sir," sulkily. "And if you are leaving now I hope you will not forget that you owe me for the liquor and cigarettes."
"Forget about it," declared Walsh in his ordinary work-a-day voice. "You're lucky I don't pinch you. Right now I want to see your boss. Lead me to him."
"Very well," assented Lucy sullenly. "But you must take off the mask."
The officer did so and he was taken into the shop and into the presence of M. Fontaine. That gentleman gestured to Lucy to return to her charges, and, as the latter disappeared, he turned to Walsh with an affable smile. He was the very essence of calmness.
"I hope you've enjoyed yourself this afternoon, officer," he ventured.
Walsh, for some reason had lost a considerable modicum of his confidence. His words and his manner indicated nervousness. He licked his lips repeatedly. M. Fontaine noticed this at once and twisted his mustache with satisfaction, though he was at a loss to account for it He was subsequently enlightened.
"Y' know, Mr. Fontaine, -I, Oh, I ain't got any bad feeling against you for running a place like that" he jerked his thumb toward the rear room. "That's your business, and of course anybody who fools with these rich people is going to get into hot water himself. But-"
"Ah!" thought the antique dealer. "I shall not have to pay him very much. That is plain."
Then aloud:
"You paid the attendant twenty dollars, did you not, officer?" "Yeh, I did."
"I presume you would like it back?"
"Yeh! Sure I would."
M. Fontaine drew a roll from his pocket, peeled off a twenty and gave it to Walsh, at which it vanished speedily.
"Thanks, Mr. Fontaine. You know I'll keep mum about your place, but, I, ah -"
"You?" smilingly.
"Well, it's this way!" the policeman blurted out. Then his voice dropped to a whisper as he moved very close to the proprietor. "Y' see, I like to suck women's cunts now and then, but I don't often get much chance. I've been wondering if you'd let me come sometimes for nothing. I can't afford to throw out twenty bucks. And I'll keep shut up like a clam."
An illuminated smile broke out on the face of M. Fontaine's face.
"Oho! So that's it, my friend! But you needn't have been ashamed of it. I sympathise most heartily with you. You know, my friend," confidentially, "that I, too, often drink from the fountain of joy. Ah, most certainly, officer! Come whenever you like and just tell Lucy what you want."
Walsh wiped the perspiration from his forehead, looked at his watch, and decided that he must go. He was escorted to the front door and bade the antique dealer adieu.
"We are good friends then, are we not?" asked M. Fontaine, suavely.
"Yeh, sure."
"And you may come whenever you like and it will cost you not a penny."
"Thanks! Say! -how about right now?"
"Surely, if you wish it."
They went back to the rear room and consulted the attendant
"Try room seven," suggested that func tionary, "but I'm not certain."
M. Fontaine returned to the store, and Walsh, remasked, started towards room seven. Lucy walked at his side and suddenly placed his hand on the officer's trousers and felt his tool.
"Oh, what a big one! Wouldn't you rather have me? I'm two-way, you know."
"No thanks. That's out of my line."
In number seven Walsh found a very aristocratic appearing lady of middle-age.
"Hello," he began nervously.
"Good evening! I've been waiting quite a while for someone."
She scrutinized him carefully through her mask and smiled. Walsh wetted his lips with his tongue.
"The attendant, ah, told me you like to do it, ah, different ways."
"Which way do you wish to do it?"
"I like to suck it," he answered, his face turning redder than it usually was.
"I'm agreeable," she said, "but not completely."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, you can suck it half way," she explained in a strained tone, "and then finish up in the ordinary fashion. Fd like that better."
"All right! -I'm willing."
They undressed hastily, Walsh all the time feeling ill at ease. His heart played him queer tricks, the blood rushed in his ears and his whole body was possessed by the trembles.
She stretched out on the couch and spread her legs, lifting the knees. Her skin was like alabaster and unblemished, yet Walsh wished that she were plumper and younger. But that left his mind as he gazed centeredly at her foliage protected nest. He got up on the couch, his cock hard and throbbing, and resting on his knees, made ready to drive into the source of all masculine joy.
"Not yet," she protested, "you poor boy. How like an amateur you go at it Aren't you ashamed of yourself. Come here to me."
Feeling instinctively that, in matters of love the women should be boss, he obeyed her and got off the couch, though there was a great wonder in his mind. She made him sit beside her.
"Well'. Why don't you warm me up?" she asked, laughing at him. "Must I give you lessons?"
"You're having a lot of fun kidding me, aren't you?" he grinned sheepishly. "But I aint such a slouch. And I'll prove it, too."
He bent down and took the nipple of one of her breasts in his mouth and began to suck it. At once she took his prick in her hand and stroked it downward until she reached spermtank underneath. She played with that and talked gently to him.
"You ought to know," she instructed him, "that a woman always likes to be played with before she gets into action."
He let go of her nipples.
"I think you're a very nice girl," he advanced. "I wonder if you'll let me kiss you?"
"Try it and see," was her answer.
His lips saught hers and, as her arms linked around his neck, they met in a long warm kiss. She sighed as their lips parted and they kissed again and again.
"You know how to kiss," she admitted as his lips travelled downward and he fiercely lipped her throat and breasts and slightlycurved abdomen, below the entrancing dimple of her navel.
"I'm ready for your attention lower down," she said, "but remember, when I tell you to stop, I want you to finish up with your rod. Such a handsome one you have, too."
"I'll remember, honey," he assured her. "And when I get through you won't be sorry you took me on." He assumed again the position he had had at first, and in a moment his mouth was tightly pressed against her vulva, and he worked his tongue in and out, exciting her clitoris at every stroke. She clipped her thighs around his head and the feel of the warm flesh spurred his desire and made his fiery member strike against his belly. The taste of her cunt set him in a fever and his nostrils drank in greedily the odor of her organs mingled with the heady perfume she used. Her loving words goaded him into a frenzy. Sucking and mouthing madly, he had only enough control left to keep from biting, a procedure he really would have liked to follow. Suddenly she cried passionately:
"Enough! Enough! Now mount me."
He was not slow in obeying.
"Oh! You dear!" she breathed as his cock drove into her burning cunt. "Oh! you sweet one! How good you are. I'll take it all back; there's nothing amateurish about you. Push harder! Faster! Deeper! As deep as you can. Oh, you wonderful man."
Her legs were closed tightly around his hams and she clasped him so wildly around the back that it seemed as though she were afraid he would try to break away. And he rode his maddened charger in and out as hard as he could, while her buttocks heaved and tossed and rolled like waves in a tempest.
Soon she had her orgasm and lost all control of herself and bounced up and down, while she sighed and groaned, her breath coming in rasps. In a few minutes she was quiet, but he, like a raging bull, rammed his tool in and out of her flooded vagina. Suddenly he stopped, for her buttocks were quiet.
"I haven't come yet," he panted. "Aren't you going to help me out?"
"Yes, my dear," she sighed languidly, "but you must be gentle with me now."
Very slowly they began moving together and apart in perfect harmony. Walsh received keen enjoyment from this method, but he felt as though he would never come. His desire was to drive furiously, but he wanted to please her. So they carried on thus for a while and she soon became hot again. They began to kiss repeatedly and increased the tempo of their orgy. Faster and faster they moved, faster and faster. She was again as before -a prisoner in the grip of a ferocious passion. She soon came to her second climax and his cock began to swim in a boiling sea.
"I'm going to come pretty soon," he cried enthusiastically. "I feel it. Work with me a little longer, sweetheart."
"All right, you wonderful lover. Come Come! Oh, please come." She slapped his back and ass in a frenzy of delight and she made her cunt and legs as tight as possible. His tool worked with the speed and regularity of a piston, and at last the longed for Streamof-Eros came, jetting into her womb like liquid fire. They clasped each other tempestuously and kissed as the throbbing of his penis ebbed away. They lay a little while in a daze and then parted.
"Oh, but you were splendid," she breathed hoarsely.
"I made you come twice, didn't I," he chuckled. "And you kidded me about not knowing my business."
"I was merely chaffing," she laughed.
He got up and looked in the wardrobe. He found his watch. "Gee! It's almost six o'clock. I've got to go."
"Oh, surely not," she cried. "I must have you once more. Don't go yet, please.'*
"But gee," he remonstrated, "I had two pieces before I came to see you. It would take too long to have another piece."
"I'll suck it for you," she suggested.
The idea intrigued him.
"All right -but we'll have to work fast. I've got a lot to do between now and eight."
They washed their privates and she bade him lie on his back. Then she sat beside him, and bending down, took his limp cock in her mouth and gave it a tongue massage. He stared, facinated at the spectacle of his tool between her lovely red lips and she was so dainty about it as though it were the accepted thing to do. Slowly but surely his member began to rise, and to stiffen it further, she moved up and down on it, using her lips as a vulva. At times he could feel the head of it in her throat. During all this he was fingering her cunt very vigorously.
Finally he gave her to know that he was ready for action. She withdrew her lips regretfully and he got up while she assumed her proper position. They fucked again, and a pleasurable bout it was, lasting many minutes, both coming almost at once. They washed, and with arrangements to meet again and endearing kisses, he got his clothes on and left.
He was in a great hurry, so he hired a taxi, and as he rested, very tired, in his seat, he became cognizant of the fact that he had lost his walking stick. Had he forgotten it in the first woman's room or in the second? Or in the store when he had spoken to Fontaine? He could not remember.
"That's the way it is when a fellow has his mind on fucking," he thought, grinning. "He's liable to forget his head. Well, to hell with the cane. It didn't cost me anything anyhow."
And so, dear reader, Patrolman Walsh came to the establishment of M. Fontaine whenever he was in the need and sucked cunts to his heart's content. At first Lucy took revenge on him by pairing him up with the old and middle-aged women and the fat and sloppy ones, but Walsh finally got into the good graces of the fairy. How did he do it? Why, he permitted Lucy to suck his cock oc cassionally. And, in this way, they became quite intimate.