Chapter 5
"Here I am a red hot kid with a big cock and hot nuts and I can't get a broad," Joey Davis wailed to a group of Fowler's Emperium delivery men at lunch.
"Oh you got an inside job, that's the trouble." Jerry Trent told the pint-size expediter.
The others wasted no sympathy on Joey. They had him tabbed as a schemer strictly out for Joey Davis. Even though he was no older than Jerry Trent, he had conned himself into an easy chair job in the store, and was making more money than the routemen. He loved money and his furtive, foxy brain was always scheming for that extra buck for Joey Davis. Nor was he particular as to how or where he got it.
Despite this, Joey envied Jerry. Jerry was big and strapping and handsome. Joey was small and runty and scruffy-looking. Joey's skin was a sallow, unhealthily olive color, and his nose was a beak, and some of his front teeth had come in crooked, and his eyes were not exactly capable of looking directly into the eyes of someone he might be talking to. Girls did not precisely fall all over themselves to get laid by Joey Davis. He did get some pussy, somehow, but he did it by conniving, by hard work, and by endless maneuvering, whereas an Adonis like Jerry Trent simply had to wear tight pants over his cock and balls and girls appeared.
Joey had nothing personal against Jerry. Joey was just jealous of Jerry's ability to screw girls.
Jerry happened to have more prick appeal then brains. The situation was otherwise with Joey Davis. And so it happened, on a hot midsummer day, that Jerry started bragging to Joey about the women who had practically begged him to frig them while he made his delivery rounds.
"You really ought to get the hell out of the dispatching office and do some deliveries," Jerry told Joey. "You get the damndest hump propositions from women on the route."
"Do tell."
"They practically plaster their twats all over you to get you to go to fuck with them," Jerry said. "It's really disgusting."
"I bet it is," Joey said, considering that many of the women who were glad to fuck for Jerry were unlikely to fuck all over him. "You get any good phone numbers for me?"
"Well, there's the Bruno broad," Jerry said. "She practically raped my cock when I went there."
"Yeah?"
"And a dame named Lazlo. A real screwball, that one. She won't let you put your cock in her cunt, but shell do everything else. Lives over near Pine Lane."
Joey said, "Some guys have all the fuckin' luck."
"There's another one, too. What a piece of ass I must have screwed her ten times in the last two weeks. She can't get enough. Confidentially, that's why I'm running so slow on the deliveries. She's got to have a little cock almost every afternoon."
"Sounds like a cute cookie. Who is she?"
"Oh, I can't tell."
"You told me about the other two."
"Yeah, but they were just horny bitches, and everybody knew about them anyway. This one's different. She's got class. I couldn't tell on her. It wouldn't be like a gentleman to do a thing like that."
Joey was no gentleman himself, but he was an expert at the art of worming information out of those whose wits were not as quick as his own. He wanted to know the name of Jerry's piece of ass mainly so he could file the name away for possible action, but when he found out who she was, he realized he was on to something much bigger than a little cunt-action.
Jerry Trent and Jean Pierce!
Jean Pierce was Jack Pierce's wife. Jack Pierce was a top business executive in Harrison City, a wheel in that bluenose I. E. C. no less. If Jean Pierce happened to be fucking a local teenager, it was big news.
It was pure dynamite.
Joey mulled things over for a while, considering how best to profit from the situation. His first step was to find out if Jerry were merely bragging or not. The next day Joey went out on a delivery route. He had previously worked out Jerry's route, so he knew approximately what time of day Jerry would be getting to the part of town where the Pierces lived, and Joey saw to it that he was quietly waiting in a parked car, a hundred yards away on a diagonal from the Pierce house, when Jerry showed up.
Jerry went in.
Then he came out in about forty-five minutes with a satisfied smirk on his face, and drove away.
That tore it. Trent hadn't been just making noises when he bragged about humping Jean Pierce!
Joey considered blackmailing her, but on mature consideration decided against it. Blackmail was big-time stuff, and he knew he wasn't ready for it. If something backfired, he could be in real mess in a hurry.
It was better to take a limited kind of profit on the deal. Instead of soaking Jean Pierce, the safest thing to do was to sell the story to the newspapers, he figured, and live it up on the proceeds.
This called for some more planning.
There were two newspapers in town, the Harrison City Press, and the "Sun." They were both owned by the same corporation, but they were otherwise different and independent papers, with separate editors, separate staffs, and different scales of pay. The "Press" was the town's prestige paper; its reporters got paid well, and the top people of the town made a point of reading it. The "Sun" was a tabloid, rather sensational and shoddy. It actually had a higher circulation than its more sedate and respectable companion paper, but its staff got notably lower pay. Young reporters imcompetent reporters, and reporters who for some reason had fallen from grace, worked on the "Sun." When a man had served his time there and had distinguished himself in some fashion meriting promotion, he moved across the street to the "Press" and got himself a healthy raise.
The thing to do Joey figured, was to find a hungry reporter, somebody eager to score a scoop and get promoted to the "Tress." He studied a couple of issues of the "Sun", and spotted the by-line of one Bill Fogarty, who seemed to specialize in expose-type stories on civic corruption. Fine.
The next day, Joey presented himself at the "Sun" office and said, "I'd like to see Mr. Bill Fogarty."
The receptionist, a gum-chewing blonde whose big knockers stuck out like twin howitzers, gave Joey a what-rock-did-you-crawl-out from under look and said, "Do you have an appointment with him?"
"He's out covering a story now. He won't be back till later."
"That's all right. I'll wait here."
"What do you want to see him about?"
"I've got a tip for him," Joey said.
He waited. He waited an hour and a half, and then a long-legged jaunty fellow not too much older than Joey walked in, winked at the big-titted receptionist and started to go into the smoke-filled, dingy inner office, when she said, "There's somebody here to see you, Mr. Fogarty."
Joey was on his feet in a minute. "I've got a lead for you," he said. "My name's Joey Davis. I work at Fowler's Emperium. I've uncovered something big, Mr. Fogarty."
"A scandal in the bedspring department?" he asked.
Joey laughed. "It's nothing in the store, Mr. Fogarty. Can we go someplace to talk?"
"My office?"
"Is it private?"
"Not very," Fogarty said. "How about the men's washroom?"
"Sure," Joey said.
In privacy of the locked washroom, Joey spelled out the deal. He had, he said, uncovered information of an explosive sexy nature concerning the immoral behavior of the wife of an important local figure.
"It'll blow the lid off the town," Joey assured the reporter.
Fogarty said, "How solid is this lead?"
"I've checked it out. I spoke to the guy who's actually screwing this chick. I saw him go into her house yesterday afternoon and stay there almost an hour. There's no doubt about that he's really fucking her. None at all."
"All right," Fogarty said. "What'll it cost me?"
"A hundred bucks for the woman's name."
"You think I'm made of money?"
"The paper! I pay you for it."
"Not unless it's true," Fogarty said.
"Suppose you give me thirty bucks on account. I'll give you the name, and you go check. If it turns out I told the truth, you give me the other seventy. I get to keep the thirty in any case."
"Sorry, I've got a kid to support, and a wife with expensive tastes. I can't risk even thirty bucks on a wild rumor."
Joey shrugged. "Okay. I guess I got to go across the street and offer the story to them. You want to unlock the door and let me out of here?"
"Wait," Fogarty said.
"Yeah?"
"I'll give you twenty bucks for that cunt's name. And eighty more if the story's true."
Joey hesitated. "Well ... okay."
He held out his hand. Fogarty counted four grimy five-dollar bills into it.
"Okay. Who's the woman?"
"Mrs. Jack Pierce."
"Are you off your rocker, kid?"
"Go investigate," Joey said. "Don't take my word for it. Around four o'clock tomorrow afternoon a Fowler's delivery truck will pull up outside the Pierce house. A big prick-pusher name of Jerry Trent will go inside. Hell stay there a while. He isn't going there to play gin rummy with her, mister."
Fogarty looked stunned. "Jack Pierce's wife, fucking for an overgrown delivery boy! This really will blow the lid off if it's true."
"Go take a look," Joey urged.
Bill Fogarty went and looked. He saw the Fowler delivery van pull up. He saw-and photographed-Jerry Trent going into the house. Then he went around back, and shinnied through the garden hedges, and peered through the back windows and saw Jean Pierce stark naked on the living room floor, and Jerry Trent just as naked, the two of them fucking away like crazy. Fogarty took a quick photo of that too. Then he got the hell out of there, feeling dazed and shaken.
He drove back to the City Room. On the way, he pondered the situation, deciding what he was going to do. He studied every aspect of the off-beat romance.
If he wrote the story, he'd have a scoop and a promotion, and a raise of 10 dollars a week, 5 dollars if he was lucky. Plus a coveted job on the better paper.
That was nice.
But a different sort of deal might be nicer. Suppose he didn't write the story and made that pay off? He could earn his promotion and his raise on some other assignment, and turn these nude hump photos into good solid cash.
He was twenty-three years old, had one kid and another on the way, and debts aggregating about $5,000, which is a lot of money to owe if you're just making that per year. Joey Davis suddenly provided Fogarty with a way to make inroads into that mountain of debt.
So he kept the story to himself.
And he paid Joey Davis the other eighty bucks out of his own pocket. Which made him a hundred dollars out of pocket so far on this story, an expenditure he could ill afford to make at this point.
Bill Fogarty preferred not to think of the hundred as an expenditure, though. It suited him better to regard it as an investment.
An investment that he hoped would pay him very handsome dividends.
Joey Davis was happy.
He didn't give a damn what the reporter did with the story, now. He could blaze it across the front pages of the "Sun," or he would employ it for some private blackmail scheme of his own, or he could just file it away and forget it as too hot to handle. Joey didn't care. Joey had his hundred bucks, at remarkably little risk or outlay of effort, and the further activities of Bid Fogarty, Jean Pierce or Jerry Trent were of only academic interest to him.
Joey Davis knew exactly what he was going to do with that hundred bucks, too. It was something he had been dreaming of doing for a long time now, if a hundred bucks ever happened to drop from heaven and land in his wallet.
There was a gorgeous piece of ass in town named Dorinne Lee.
Joey Davis lusted after Dorinne's body. It was quite a body to lust after, too. She was in her early twenties, a slim, full-breasted brunette who was such a hot item she would give every man a hard-on when she only walked down the street. She liked to dress in skin-tight garments that displayed her tits and ass in an ideal setting. Her breasts were round and high and close together, her legs were calendar girl legs, her asscheeks were taut and succulent and maddeningly saucy.
Dorinne was available. For a price.
A damned good price, in fact. Dorinne was a call girl, the most expenisve in town. Her telephone number was in the little black books of many of the most important businessmen and civic leaders of Harrison City. They were just about the only ones who could afford to screw her. It cost a hundred bucks to spend the night fucking with Dorinne, Joey knew. If you wanted to spend less than a whole night, half an hour say, it would still cost you a hundred bucks. She didn't like "quickies" and she charged full rate for a fast fuck, to discourage them. If, by some chance, somebody hired her twat and other charms for only an hour or so, she would take the rest of the night off. Dorinne was fastidious that way. She didn't believe in fucking with more than one man the same night. It was a vulgar, promiscuous way to fuck, even for money.
When you make $700 a week just by exercising your cunt, you can afford to be fastidious.
Joey had been dreaming of a night fucking with Dorinne since he had found out about her, a year and a half ago. But it had always been in the realm of fantasy screwing for him. Not now. He dialed her number late that afternoon, a number that he had obtained through the greatest of efforts, and he tingled all over as her sultry tones tickled his ear.
"Hello?"
"Dorinne?"
"That's right."
"My name is Joe Davis," he said, forcing his voice down to his basso profundo. "I'm a business associate of several clients of yours, and they gave me your number. I was wondering if you were free tomorrow night."
"Day after tomorrow," Dorinne said. "Who did you say you were a friend of?"
Joey named three of the most important businessmen in the town, and hoped Dorinne wouldn't go to the extent of checking with them.
"Be here at midnight," Dorinne said. "You know about my rates?"
"Yes," Joey said. "I know all about them."
The hours crawled away, more than fifty of them, endless hours, until the day after tomorrow arrived. Joey had never been through such excruciating tension in his life. Every second brought him closer to shoving his cock into Dorinne.
The evening arrived. He showered, shaved, brushed his teeth till they gleamed. He put on fresh clothes and went out. He lived with his mother, who didn't give a damn whether or not he ever came home again. Joey was planning to come home but not before he was all fucked out.
He reached the swank downtown apartment house where Dorinne lived, rode upstairs in the sleek, noiseless elevator. He had brought her a bouquet of flowers. It struck him as partly a cornball touch, partly a good idea.
He rang the doorbell.
The door opened, and there Dorinne stood, wearing a black silk negligee that covered but scarcely hid at all the supple, lush contours of her body. High jutting tits made the fabric stretch taut. Lush hips flared her out at the ass.
She looked at him and said, "Who the hell are you kid?"
"Joey Davis. We've got a date in bed tonight."
Her eyes widened in astonishment. "You said you were in business!"
"I am," he said, and stepped inside. "Frigging business. Hello Dorinne. You don't know how long I've been waiting for this day to come."
"Get the hell out of here."
He shook his head. "Uh-uh. A date's a date." Joey took the money from his breast pocket-ten ten dollar bills and fanned it out. "See? A hundred buckaroonies. Cash on the barrelhead. Didn't you think I'd pony up?"
She ignored the money. "I'm particular about my clientele," she said. "I'm not in business to give hard-ons to kids."
"I'm no kid."
"You look like one."
"Try humping for me and see."
She pointed to the door. "Come back with your hard-on in ten years," she said. "And grow a new face before you do."
Joey didn't lose his temper. He said, "If you throw me out of here, you'll regret it."
"Oh?"
"I've got important friends. That's how I got your number. Suppose I tell my important friends you gave me a hard time? That you made a hump date with me and then tried to back out? Come on, Dorinne. Take the dough. Cut the crud."
"You think I'm afraid of you?"
"You ought to be. I could send a reporter from the "Sun" around to make trouble for you. Guy name of Bill Fogarty. How'd you like him to do a write up on local vice, with you as the star of the story?"
Dorinne sighed. "You friggin' little jerk," she said, "all right. I guess you get to lay me after all. Give me the money."
"Gladly."
She took the bills from him and quickly stashed them out of sight in a dresser drawer. When she turned to face him again, her manner had changed. She no longer seemed sullen and annoyed. Professional whore that she was, she had slipped into the role of an eager fucker. Men paid her to give them a good frigging time, and once she had taken their money, she did her level best to give their cocks a good job, blow, straight screw or trip around the world.
"Well?" she said. "What do you want me to do?"
"Get undressed, first. We can take if from there."
She nodded. With a sinuously fluid motion that was the incarnation of voluptuous eroticism, she drew the negligee over her head. An instant later, she was peeling away the shiny black silk bikini-style scan ties underneath.
And then she was wholly naked, and Joey Davis was finally seeing the body that he had dreamed about for so long.
She was a terrific piece of ass!
She was slender, and tawny, and graceful as a big cat. Her big tits burst out of her chest miraculously, two swollen melons of sensuous knocker tipped with dark, large nipples. The width of her hips flowed marvelously into the heavy globes of her asscheeks. Her bush and cunt eminently designed for love.
Joey walked over to her. He put his hands on her breasts. She stood there, letting him handle her, and he began rotating the nipples, pressing hard, feeling the nipples go stiff in response to the stimulation. Her tits began to go up and down in his hands as she breathed harder.
"Okay," he said, "undress me."
"Sure," she said.
He waited, letting her do the work. She took off his jacket, and draped it over a chair, and unstrung his tie, and opened his shirt. Her soft fingertips ran over his bare chest, and then she moved in close, rubbing the tips of her titties against his skin. Joey shivered in delight as his cock stiffened with a terrific hard-on. But he made no move to take her. They had all night to fuck and he wanted this hump to be good to the last drop.
Dorinne stepped back. She was smiling as though she were a bride on her wedding night, smiling a secret, mysterious passion-smile. That was the difference between a five-buck and a hundred-buck girl, Joey thought. Both of them hated your guts, but the hundred-dollar girl made you feel that you were the big love of her life, while the five-dollar girl just waited impatiently for the hump to end.
Dorinne opened his fly. His pants slid down his legs and he stepped out of them. She reached forward, put her hands on his hips, and swept his underwear down to his ankles. Naked now, Joey sat down on the edge of the bed, Dorinne knelt before him. The muscles rippling under her tawny skin as she crouched, and began to take the underpants from his feet.
Joey looked down, delirious with joy. Her jet-black hair was thick and glossy. She was kneeling in front of him, her big heavy tits dangling downward from her chest, swaying delightfully.
It was hard to believe that this lovely hump was actually happening to him.
Dorinne started to get up. But Joey had other ideas. He put his hands on her shoulders-the skin was like fine silk-and pressed her firmly downward.
"Before you get up, suck my cock a little," he said.
"Sure, anything you like."
She brought her head forward and lowered it with her lips closing over the head of his cock. He ran his hands through her thick hair, then stroked the sides of her cheeks, played with her earlobes. Joey closed his eyes after a moment. Surging sensations stole through him as she began sucking up and down the shaft of his stiff dick.
She was an expert, a real pro.
She knew how to give a beautiful blow-job and she knew her pacing. She didn't stop until Joey was gasping and red in the face from the cock-sucking excitement and then she looked up. As soon as he no longer felt the sweet warmth of her lips on his prick, he opened his eyes.
"You want me to finish?" she asked.
"No. Not that way."
"Good."
She got to her feet. His stiff dong and balls were zinging with desire now. Her naked tits and cunt hovered before him. He felt dazed and hazy. The sight of her bush and her pink, moist cuntlips burned his eyes as though she were a pillar of fire blazing in front of him.
Joey nodded toward the bed. "Come on," he said.
She lay down and spreading her legs, exposed her gorgeous cunthole completely. Joey moved to her, incredulous at the silken-smooth sleekness of her. She was cool, except for her twat and there she was a conflagration. He touched her breasts, one at a time, and then lower, and then, with a brutal, impulsive move, he shoved his big throbbing prick right up her moist cunt.
That was the greatest ever. Her cunt worked against his cock and little muscles somewhere in her vagina did things to him that Joey hadn't known were possible, and in a very few minutes he trembled and convulsed with delight as he shot his load of jet after jet of hot, creamy scum into her cunt.
He rested, in her arms, her soft pointed tits pillowing him. He felt very good after letting go of that first load ... he had a lot saved up in his balls.
The night was young, and he was a long way from being finished with her twat.
He made her put a record on and dance for him next. She did a slow, sinuous solo, her breasts swaying, her hips undulating, and when Joey had watched her for a little while, he was ready for another fuck. He came over to her, and pressed himself against her, feeling her tits, squeezing them, trapping the nipples in his fingers.
Then he said, "Get down on the floor."
"Like how?"
"Hands and knees."
She smiled as though it were the most natural thing in the world to crawl around on hands and knees. She got down.
"Crawl," he said. "Give that big ass of yours a wiggle."
She crawled for him, and she gave a wriggle. Standing with arms folded, Joey watched her, watching the muscles going alternately taut and slack under her smooth skin, watched the changing contours of her lovely asscheeks, the bobbing and swinging of her round heavy breasts.
He waited until his cock was stiffly at the peak of excitement. Then he came up and stood behind her, and looked at the heart-shaped curves of her taut buttocks.
He knelt.
He crouched to her ass and put his hands on her breasts, and drew her buttocks toward him, and pressed himself against the warmth of her and saw her work her cuntlips backward to trap his dick. She knew exactly what he wanted. Joey gripped her breasts tightly, and she worked from side to side. She let out a little gasp of mingled pleasure and pain as though he had harmed a vital nerve.
She twisted and sighed. Her soft firm buttocks still against him. The sensations drove Joey mad with cunt-desire. He plunged his cock right into her vagina, but she did not shrink from his assault.
When he shot his load as he came in her twat, it was overpowering in its intensity.
Joey was not sure whether or not she had really come as he shot his sperm in her pussy, or simply had faked that. He didn't care. He had fucked her, and he had fucked her royally, and that was all that counted.
When he was finished, he rested again. But he was a long way from being through fucking.
She said, "You want to take a shower?" And he said yes, and they took a shower together. She soaped him throughly, and then she took the soap off his cock and balls with a fondling that quickly gave him another hard-on. This time, when they reached that critical point, she looked at him to ask him if he wanted her to cock-suck him all the way to the finish. This time he nodded, and she sucked expertly away on his throbbing cock, in redoubled effort and Joey gasped his way to fresh delight as he shot his load down her throat and she swallowed it.
There was more afterward, he fucked her dog-fashion once more as soon as he could get it up again.
And finally, with the first streaks of dawn staining the sky, Joey decided he had had his hundred dollar's worth of hump. He rose from the bed, bleary-eyed and exhausted, and got back into his clothing.
A naked Dorinne accompanied him to the door. She did not seem eager to have him leave. She kissed him good-bye, her tits flattened against his jacket, and he ran his hands over her satiny ass one last time.
"Come back soon," she whispered huskily.
"As soon as I can afford it," he promised her, wondering where in the hell he was going to get another hundred bucks, and knowing he damned well was, somehow, and would be back soon for more of the most wonderful fucking he had ever had in his life.
He staggered out into the morning.
Joey made some rapid mental calculations. An hundred dollar broad like Dorinne was really a big bargain if you had been saving all your cock-juice for her for over a month. Timing and pacing, that was the ticket, Joey kept telling himself. Why, he must have given that doll a fucking like none of her other customers ever did. Seven times, he repeated to himself, seven tricks! He's bet that some of those tired old buzzards of business men who were Dorinne's regular humpers, barely had the strength to get their money's worth even once.
Yeah, man! He was starting to scrounge another hundred together as of right now. He hoped Dorinne didn't get some dopey idea like maybe she was really losing money with him because he was such a jack-rabbit type of fucker. Hell, he had given her the full one hundred smackers for the night-her going rate. Next time, if he were flush, Joey decided he would be a real sport and leave that cunt a five dollar tip.