Chapter 4
It was not until several hours after I had left van Drooft's studio that I began to react at the story he had told me. For a while I thought I could not fulfill Carla's last request-or, at least, fulfill it any further. Already in van Drooft's story, I could see the roots of Carla's promise to go crazy beginning to take hold. I wanted to go no further, to hear no more, and yet was it more painful to listen to than to have lived? The second half of her life was to be in part a revenge against my infidelity. Was I to deprive her of this revenge? Clearly, I could, and since she was dead it could hardly matter. But in the midst of the anguish I felt, I knew that I must go through with it, just as she had gone through with it.
I drank late into the night, but did not succeed in getting myself drunk or even numb. Eventually, I went to bed, my bones aching and I slept badly. I slept, dreamed and woke; then reslept, redreamed, and rewoke; and then again. Nightmares brought me awake with sounds coming from my throat. In each of the dreams, Carla walked round a street full of gaping people. She was naked, and her body was painted like a rainbow. I followed her, and she avoided me, but she always looked to see if I was there. Sometimes she would stop beside a tree and, like a dog, lift her leg and urinate. At that point in the dream I might decide I could reach her. I'd begin to run.
"Howard," she'd call.
"Yes, I'm coming."
"Howard...."
"I'll catch you."
"Howard...."
"Don't move. Stay there."
"Howard...."
"Yes, Carla, yes."
"Howard...."
And she'd begin to laugh, and laughing, fall to the ground with her legs wide apart. "Howard...."
"Your cunt, Carla. Your beautiful cunt. It smells like pastry. I want it."
"Howard...."
I ran to her, running, running, getting no closer. "Howard...."
"I'll bite into your pastry."
"Howard...."
"Here, I am. I'm coming. We'll fuck savagely."
"Howard...."
Suddenly I was before her. Her legs went wider and what lay between them invited me. I was naked and my erection kept growing. It grew, as it were, for acres and smiles, and as it reached her loins, I realized I was bu-ying my penis in a nest of snakes. There were a million snakes crawling in her woman. I leaped back, pulling my penis in like a telescope.
"Howard...."
But I'd come no closer. "Howard...."
The snakes grew, tangled; their tongues flickered in and out, lapping toward me. "Howard...."
I stood, utterly horrified, but refused to help her. The snakes were enormous now and had begun to twist round her body.
"Howard!" she screamed, horrified. "Howard! Howard! Howard! Howard!"
And I woke from the dream, groaning. But only to fall asleep again, repeat the nightmare, and awake once more. At dawn, I washed my face and smoked a cigarette, exhausted from my terrible night. I tried once more to sleep, and this time I was more successful. I slept dreamlessly until the afternoon.
The next name on Carla's list was Jean Dupont. I wondered if it could be the same Jean van Drooft had talked about the day before. His address was that of a hotel in the Pigalle area. Since Carla had listed no telephone number for the hotel and since I could find no number for it in the directory, I drove up to Pigalle about six o'clock that evening, wound my car round the small back streets, and finally reached the hotel.
It was all freshly painted and had an air of false respectability; the reception desk was at such an angle that anyone could easily go up the stairs without being observed. Clearly, this was a place that rented rooms by the hour. Walking to the desk, I hit the bell, but no one came. It took a good deal of ringing to get a rather old man down the stairs.
"Yes?" he-asked.
"I wonder if there's someone here named Jean Dupont?"
"No, there's no one here by that name."
"But he has lived here."
"I couldn't tell you." And he started back up the steps.
"Wait a minute. Couldn't you check? Perhaps there's a forwarding address."
"No. No forwarding address."
I took a thousand-franc note out of my wallet and placed it on the desk.
"Are you sure?" I said.
He came down the stairs quickly, and grabbed the money.
"Dupont hasn't lived here for some time. But he has a little friend upstairs. Maybe she can help you. Name's Rose and she's in number 17-third floor to your right."
"Thanks very much."
"At your service."
I climbed to the third floor and found number 17, the door slightly ajar, and the room very dark. I thought that Rose might be too occupied to provide me with any information at that particular moment, but I listened, and hearing no noise, I rapped at the door. A woman's hoarse voice mumbled something which I thought was to come in, so I entered and closed the door behind me. In the dim light of the room-the windows were heavily draped-I saw the plump naked form of a woman on the bed.
"Did you get it?" she asked me, and then suddenly sat up in the bed. "Hey, who are you?"
"I'm terribly sorry." I smiled, and she growled but didn't bother to cover herself. In the red-toned darkness of the room, her flesh looked like a ripe fruit. Every part of her body glowed with ripeness, maturity. Her breasts were not too large, but they swelled out firmly and ended in jutting brown nipples. Her arms and legs had a thick meaty softness. She was the kind of woman that oozes sex all along her body.
"Get out of here and come back later," she said. "He'll kill you if he sees you here."
"Jean?"
"Not, Jean, Pierre. Say, who are you? How do you know Jean."
"I don't. I'm-"
"Shut up." She jumped out of bed in a panic. "He's coming up the stairs. Oh my God."
I started to the door, but she stopped me. "Go behind that screen and for God's sake don't breathe. I'll send him out again for a minute and then you can leave."
I was hardly behind the screen when I heard the door open.
"Here's the wine," said Pierre harshly. "It's so warm out."
"Oh, Pierre," said Rose, "I know it's warm. But would you mind going out once more for your sweet little girl?"
"I don't want to go out. I'm going to fuck you now."
"In a minute. Couldn't you go down and bring me an aspirin? I have a terrible headache."
"I'll take your headache away. I have just the pill for it."
"I have such an awful headache. Please get me an aspirin."
"If you don't shut up, I'll make your headache go away. And I'll make your head go away with it." He sounded like he meant it.
"Please...." Rose begged, and then there was the fantastic sound of hand meeting flesh. Rose shrieked, then began sobbing. I assumed it would be some time before I could make my escape, and so I loosened my collar and looked round at my whereabouts: there was a sink and a bidet. I hoped Pierre had no intention of using either. Since there was nothing else to do, I settled myself down on the bidet and listened to their conversation.
Pierre: Get on that bed and for Christ's stop crying. Rose: But my head....
Pierre: Didn't you have enough? You want more? Rose: No. No, honey. Only I want to be so nice to you and I won't be at my best when I have a headache.
Pierre: You better be at your best. Now, get on that bed.
(Sound of springs; and Pierre grunting as he gets out of his clothes.) Pierre: Everything's sticking to me, it's so damn hot.
You going to stick to me? Rose: Sure, honey. Going to stick to you like glue.
Only my head-Pierre: (Roaring.) Enough about your head. Here, let me rub this pill against your head. It's a nice warm pill. Rose: (Sighing.) Oh, it's a good pill. But pills have to be swallowed, don't they? Pierre: That's right.
(Sucking sound.) Rose: Wouldn't you like to swallow my pill? Pierre: No, I won't swallow it, but I'll chew it up.
(Bed-sounds and lapping. Pierre grunting. Rose sighing passionately.) Rose: All, that's good ... Yes ... there ... bite it ... , harder ... oh, Pierre ... Pierre: What a cunt!
Rose: All yours, Pierre ... Put your tongue in ... around and around ... deeper ... All ... All ... , I'm all aching. I'm all one piece of aching cunt. Move over so hard and hot ... oh oh oh ... again ... bite me there again.
Pierre: Don't pull me so fast, you'll make me come-Yes, that's good. Yes, gently. Put y-or lips again.
Rose: Oh, Pierre, fuck me, fuck me. I'll go crazy.
Here, you lie down. Pierre: I want to eat your tits. Put that thick brown nipple in my mouth. Rose: There ... oh, bit? it, Pierre ... kill me, Pierre, chew me to pieces.
Pierre: Enough of that. Come and sit on me. That's right. Squat over it. Now lower yourself slowly. More. It's going in.
Rose: I know, I know. Its enormous helmet is piercing into me.
Pierre: Lower yourself some more. More. It's almost in. All the way. Press yourself down all the way.
Rose: (Breathing heavily, her words coming with difficulty.) All of it is in me now ... Your whole column is filling CM, burning me ... Do you want me to move?
Pierre: A little ... Move a little ... That's right ... Slowly, up and down.
Rose: Oh oh it's slipping out ... in ... it's a mountain tearing in and out of me ... I feel it beating, throbbing, in me ... Yes, do that ... Oh, Pierre, do that ... Move like that ... Oh, in again ... Quickly! Push it more ... Oh, wonderful ... And your balls hot against my ass.
Pierre: Up, up. Move quickly. I'll grab your tits. Move quickly. Quickly.
Rose: Quickly ... quickly ... it's steaming in me ... if it gets any harder I'll burst open ... oh, now, again, again, again ... break me open destroy me ... those balls ... that cock....
Pierre: Your cunt full of grease ... I'm coming....
Rose: Come ... Lunge, plunge, faster, faster ... oh, I'll die ... of ... ' crazy ... faster ... you ... hot cock ... oh oh ... owww....
Pierre: Spill ... spill....
Rose: Ohhh....
(A few minutes of silence.)
Pierre: Put your filthy cunt in my face. I want to drink what I just filled you with.
Rose: How wet I am. You've drowned me with your boiling juice. Oh, fuck me again. I can't bear to be without your cock in me. Let me lie down now. Come on top of me. Drop your body on me. Suffocate me. Oh, how heavy you are.
Pierre: You're so soft. I'm falling deep into you. Your meat is taking' me in. Rose: Let me take your cock in. Put your cock in.
Yes, all the way. Oh, it's wonderful. Make me come again. Don't wait! Pump, pump!
Yes! Bounce on me; jump on me: Pierre: Put your legs up around me. Move your behind. Good. Rose: Hurry! I can't wait! I must have it ... Oof ... like that. Pierre: I spurt again....
Rose: Yes, fill me again. I feel it storming in me More ... More ... More ... More ... Kiss me, Pierre ... Kiss me.
(Stifled moans; sighs; the slurp of their kiss; the squishing sound of his penis moving in her. Rose screaming. Pierre grunting.) Rose: That was so good. I could do it all night. Pierre: We will.
In fact, I was becoming desperate they might. Obviously Rose had forgotten about me. To remind her, I made a slight scratching sound at the screen.
"What was that?" asked Pierre.
"I-I didn't hear anything."
"I heard a noise."
"It's probably the water-pipes. Oh, Pierre, my head had got worse. Couldn't you get me an aspirin?"
"You want me to get dressed now? If I get dressed, I won't come back, and you can fuck yourself the rest of the night."
"Oh, no, Pierre. You wouldn't leave. Just put your trousers on and ask at the desk for an aspirin. Please. And then we'll have wine and start again."
"All right," he said without enthusiasm. I heard him slip into his clothes and then the door opened and closed.
"Hey, you," hissed Rose. "Quick, get out."
I came out from behind the screen.
'You got some earful," she said.
She was standing up and I couldn't resist driving my hand between her legs; the hot dripping flesh thrilled me.
"Come some other time. I've got some for all."
"Tell me where I can find Jean Dupont."
"Why?"
"I'm an old friend of his." 'You sure you're not a cop?"
I wriggled my hand in her meat. "Does that feel like I'm a cop?" I asked. "Cops like to fuck too."
She whispered the address to me and then pushed me out the door, giving me an affectionate goodbye by pulling at the bulge in my trousers.
As I walked down the steps, Pierre was coming up. He was shirtless and shoeless, a hulking brute of about thirty-five. He looked at me menacingly as I passed, and then continued up the stairs.
Since the address Rose had given me was that of a hotel only a very short distance away, I didn't bother taking my car, but walked back to the boulevard and south a couple of blocks and then turned left, right, and left. I emerged on a fairly broad, light (even though night was beginning to Ml), pleasant-looking street. The hotel itself was not so freshly painted as the other had been but, nevertheless, it was obviously of a much better quality. It was more a place for tourists than rendezvous.
At the desk, an elderly woman adjusted her glasses and smiled at me.
"I'd like to speak to Jean Dupont, please."
"I'll ring up to his room," she said, and picked up the phone, dialed a number. "Monsieur Dupont? There's a gentleman here to see you." She turned to me. "What did you say the name was?"
"Cunningham. Tell him I'm an American."
She told him. "Yes, Monsieur Dupont. Yes, I'll tell him" She replaced the receiver and turned to me. "He's coming right down, Mr. Cunningham. Would you take a seat in the lobby?"
I went into the lobby, sat down, lit a cigarette, and looked round the room. Less than five minutes later, Dupont came down. He was a short, dark, stocky, young-looking man, rather handsome, and he was extremely well-dressed. Coming into the lobby, he smiled to me.
"Mr. Cunningham?"
"That's right"
"What can I do for you, sir?"
"I wonder if we might go out for a drink. My errand is a little odd to discuss here."
Curiously, he winked at me. "Fine," he said. "Where would you like to go?"
"Anywhere. Somewhere quiet."
"There's a nice little cafe not far from here."
We left the hotel and went round the comer to a fairly large cafe that faced on a square. Since it was approaching the dinner hour, the terrace of the cafe was deserted.
"Would you like to sit out here on the terrace?" he asked me. "Yes."
We sat down and when the waiter came I ordered for both of us.
"Now, I'll tell you why I've looked you up."
"No need to tell me. Do you want man, woman, or child?"
"For what?"
He looked at me with some bewilderment. "Say, who gave you my address?"
"I was just about to tell you. It was Carla."
"Carla who? Aren't you the American I expected this afternoon?"
"No, I'm afraid not."
The extreme politeness he had shown me until now disappeared at once. "Who are you?"
"You know my name. I've come at the request of Carla."
"I don't know any Carla. Are you sure you're not a cop?"
"How could I be a cop? I'm an American."
"How do I know that? I think I'll say goodnight."
"Wait a minute. Look here." I handed him my passport. He flipped through the pages. "It looks real, " he said "It is real."
He leaned over confidentially. "How much you want for it?"
"For the passport."
"Sure."
"Sorry, it's not for sale."
"A hundred thousand francs?"
"I assure you," I said sternly. "It's not for sale."
"Well, what the hell do you want from me then?"
"Information."
"So you are a cop." He made as if to get up from the table, and I put my hand on his arm.
"Listen, Dupont, the information I want is of use to no one but myself. In fact, it isn't even of any use to me and I'm after it only for sentimental reasons."
"I'll bet," he laughed.
"Do you remember a woman named Carla."
"No."
"A very beautiful woman."
"Look, friend, I deal in beautiful women."
"This one was very young and had platinum hair. Perhaps you knew her at a time when she was friendly with a photographer named van Drooft."
He looked at me incredulously and said, "Carla. Oh, my God, you mean Carla."
"That's what I said."
"I haven't seen her since before the war."
"She's dead."
"I didn't know that."
"She only died a few days ago. The fact is, she left a letter for me in which she listed a number of names and addresses. Yours was one of them. She asked me to go around to see these people and to ask them about their relations with her."
"What did she want you to do that for?"
"To be perfectly frank, it's a form of revenge. Carla and I were jn love; when we broke up, she warned me of the kind of life she'd lead if we separated. Now, I think, she wants me to make good her promise."
Dupont nodded his head and smiled. "Say, you must be the man who ran out on her."
"If you want to put it that way-"
"Sure, she told me about you. She said you'd come by one day to ask about her. Well, what do you want to know?"
"Anything you'd care to say about Carla."
Staring thoughtfully into his drink, he seemed to be considering what he ought to tell me.
"Did you say you knew van Drooft?"
"I only met him yesterday. His was the first name on the list."
"Lousy little pansy, he is."
"Is that so?"
"Yes. I was fucking him day and night: him and Carla both. They could never get enough of it. I finally had to get away from both of them or I would have dried up and died."
At that point, he recounted more or less the same tale van Drooft had told me, only the homosexual element was completely reversed. It was van Drooft who had begged Dupont to stay on at the studio; the trio broke up because, Dupont found it physically impossible to keep both his concubines satisfied; van Drooft was the one who had begged to be beaten and had so disgusted Dupont that the latter walked out on him. Which of the two versions was the true one, I cannot at all say, and besides it is of little relevance in relation to Carla. One thing is certain: she was not playing husband to either of them; whoever was the pot, Carla was not the potter.
I pick up Dupont's story where van Drooft's left off:
Well, (Dupont was saying) after I told van Drooft to go to hell, I left his apartment, and I didn't' want to have anything more to do with him. But I didn't feel I was finished with Carla. I wanted more of her.' Still, I decided not to go back to the studio, so for the next week or so, I went to the building where van Drooft lived-I went there about midnight, and every night I waited an hour or so. Sometimes while I was waiting, van Drooft came out of the building and went down the street. So it seemed pretty sure that Carla wasn't interested anymore. I knew she was interested in me, but where was I going to find her? She didn't know my address, and I didn't know hers.
Finally, I got fed up and stopped coming around to van Drooft's. I didn't see Carla again for almost five years-until the spring of 1938. During those five years, I got established in a nice little business. I went into the meat trade. I'd had some experience at it from the time I was a kid, but just about after I lost track of Carla, I went into it seriously. It was pretty easy. I had a lot of gorgeous girls who were nuts about me-and I started thinking, well, why not make a profit out of it. So what I did was, I'd tell the girls that if they expected me to fuck them, they'd have to do me little favors in return. Some of them agreed right away, and some of them had to sit around a while and realize what they were missing before they came around. I'll tell you, when a girl's been fucked by Jean Dupont, she stays fucked, and no one else satisfies her. That goes for guys like van Drooft too. You know why I'm living in the hotel I am and wearing these clothes? Because there are sixty-six women, men, boys and girls all over Paris who'll do anything I say just to get a fuck out of me. And naturally they don't any of them get one more than once every two or three months. So, because I fuck them half-a-dozen times a year, they spend the rest of the year being fucked by the people I send to them. Half of them don't even need the money-and they don't get it. They do it for love of me. All sizes, shapes, and ages. My youngest employee is a little girl of seven. A pretty little girl named Katherine. I've been fucking her since she was four-and-a-half. She's got a cunt like a cow's. She's very much in demand-not so much as before, of course-you'd be surprised what a difference it makes to a man to have a girl of five or a girl of seven. Still, I can get her one or two customers every night, and on Sundays she's kept as busy as a church door.
My youngest boy is eleven. Until now, of course, he hasn't been much good except for being fucked. And it was quite a job, I can tell you, getting his ass-hole stretched wide enough to accommodate some of my bigger customers. I had to bugger him two months straight before he widened up. (I have quite a big instrument, in case you're interested.) And after that I made him keep an enormous rubber tubing up his ass night and day for six weeks. Now, he could take a good-sized fist right up the old hole and never even flinching, in fact, he often does. But as I was saying, he's coming around now to the time where he can give a good fuck as well as take one. He's becoming the star of middle-aged women. All he has to do is crawl on top of them and twiddle his little pencil against their sharpeners and. bang! the ladies are screaming in ecstasy. As a matter-of-fact, I'm beginning to have trouble with him. He claims he'll go into business for himself if I don't visit him more often.
My oldest woman is just ninety-two. She's the best cock-sucker in Paris and, maybe, all of France. She's a rich crazy old babe with a big house in a ritzy part of the city. In back of the garden, she's got a kind of small barn, and in that she keeps a cow, a horse, a mule, a monkey, a dog, and a cat. She takes her customers right into the barn, and they all go to town on him. She has no teeth of her own, see, and she's had the teeth pulled out of all her animals. I tell you, you haven't had a wild night until you've been sucked by her and her zoo. Then she gives a little performance with the horse fucking her. What a sight! Her cunt's so big she could try on an elephant. But if you go to visit her, be careful not to bend over or the horse will go riding on you. She's got a funny sense of humor, that one has.
And then my old man, who's 88 next month. He wouldn't be much in demand except he's got the biggest collection of whips in the world, and he's raring to use them.
But these are only four of my employees. There are sixty-two others, all devoted. Of course, business hasn't always been so good. For a long time I had to content myself with half-a-dozen women, a couple of men, and an occasional child. But now I've got my suite at the hotel and my house in the country. Things couldn't be better.
As I was saying, for the four-and-a-half or five years when I didn't see Carla I was all the time building up my little empire, and I didn't have much time to think of her. Actually, I was always busy walking around trying to get people to fall in love with me, so I could make capital out of them. Well, as it happened, I was doing the outskirts of Paris that night, and I was going around the cafes at Vincennes. When I'd reached the edge of the woods, I saw a taxi stop about ten feet ahead of me, and out stepped Carla, as beautiful as ever. She'd filled out a little and her tits were so swollen and ripe I would've eaten them there in the street. A man got out with her; he was about sixty and he kept moving his hands in front of him to hide the lump in his pants.
Carla didn't notice me, and she and the old guy were starting into the woods. I followed them, keeping a distance, and I had a wonderful idea. When they were pretty deep in the wood, they stopped at a small clearing and started kissing like crazy. I could hear the old man wheezing and tearing at Carla's dress. Finally they both got undressed, and I almost dropped a load down just looking at her. What a girl! She lay down on the ground and spread her legs wide and the man kept walking around looking at her, holding his cock in his hands.
This is no time for looking, I thought. And quickly, just like that time at van Drooft's, I got undressed back in the trees where I was. I stripped down to my briefs and my undershirt, and I walked out into the clearing. Carla saw, and just stared. So I pulled my briefs down to below my balls, and my rod stuck out in the air like a flagpole.
"You like it?" I yelled at her.
"Yes, yes, yes," she shrieked.
I tore my things off and went bounding across the clearing and lunged so that I fell square on top of her, knocking the breath out of both of us.
"Jean," she whimpered. "Jean, it's been so long...."
"It's still long," I told her and she began twitching and pulled her legs back so her twat was smack against my cock. I rubbed at her hard. I never knew a woman who'd get so wet in the cunt-like a load of mud. I sliced it at her and tore at her tits until she moaned.
"Oh, God," she sighed. "Put it in."
So I grabbed hold of it and rammed it up and up. The minute it was inside she started twitching and jumping, tearing her nails on my shoulders, squeezing her legs around me. She jumped and heaved and poked herself up and down. I took her ass in my hands and rubbed away at the meat. I felt like I was going to shoot her cunt to pieces, and she wanted me to do it. I banged away, pounded, slid it in and out, and then our mouths were together and we were both coming like race-horses. Hooray, hooray! At the moment, we leaped together into the air and rolled over and over in the grass, and we ended up with her on top of me.
I had my eyes closed so I thought it was her shaking at me for more, and I can tell you I was ready for more. I poked it up and down a little. Then I looked up, feeling her get very heavy on me and I saw the old guy had climbed on Carla and had rammed himself right up her ass. He was grinding away and biting at her shoulders, and she was bouncing up and down on me. I just lay there still and let them take care of all movements. It was lovely to feel the old man's balls slamming against mine and Carla's juice running down to my behind. All three of us went wild together,, leaping like mad into the air.
When we were done, the old man hopped off, and I pushed Carla away and stood up.
"Listen, here," I said to the man. "What the hell do you think you're doing to my wife?"
"Your wife, sir?" he asked.
"Sure. I don't mind who puts it in her cunt, but her ass-hole happens to be my personal university. Who died and left you professor?"
"But I had no idea-"
"I'm not asking for ideas. I want to know where you think you get off-"
"I assure you, I had no idea the lady was married."
"Married is not the point. What I'm talking about is her brown study. What are your ideas doing in there?"
"There happened to be no signs forbidding the use of the cherished place, and since it was looking up at me with such an unoccupied expression, I thought the kindest thing would be to fill it."
"So you 'thought'? So you had ideas? And what do you think your long pink thing is, a text-book?"
"I'm terribly sorry about this-"
"Sorry isn't going to do anyone good. For your knowledge, I think it's only right that you pay your tuition."
"Do you mean-"
"Exactly. How many times have you entered the university?" Carla said: "At least a dozen."
"That'll be a hundred francs a session: twelve hundred francs in all. And I hope this'll teach you a lesson."
"I don't have twelve hundred francs-"
"How much do you have?" I asked, racing to his clothes before he could get there. In his wallet I found two thousand francs and some change. I left him the change to get home with.
"I think you'd better run along now," I said to him.
"I certainly intend to. I never realized Carla was involved in this kind of thievery."
"Thievery?" Carla asked.
"What else would you call it?" the old man said. "Education," she said.
"In that case, you ought to pay me for having taught you a thing or two."
That got me interested. "What did you teach her?"
"I taught her the pleasures of love made while standing on one's head."
"What a load that is!" I said, not believing him at all.
"It's true," Carla said.
"So teach it to me."
"No," said the old man. "You'll probably take my change away under the pretext that you've taught me to do it while you watched."
"Go on and do it," I said, "or I'll tear your balls off."
What he did was, he picked Carla up, kicked all their clothes into a little pile beside a tree, and then turned Carla upside down, her head resting on the clothes, her body leaning against the tree. Then the old guy took a quick jump and landed on his head, and leaned his body against the tree. He and Carla wriggled their bodies up together and he pushed his cock into her twat. They couldn't do much jumping, but just swayed a little and he kept edging his rod in deeper. Their faces were red with the blood in their heads. They began to sway faster, both of them grunting like crazy. Carla's juice dripped along their bellies. They jiggled away at it and after a few minutes, I could tell they were coming. They both sounded like pigs. Then, suddenly, they came, and they both went flipping over in a dead faint to the ground.
They came out of it in a few seconds. "I want to try it," I said. "You'll have to wait a minute," said Carla. So I passed the time by shoving my face into her cunt and slobbering away at it. Slop, slop. Nothing like a woman's cunt well-oiled with her own and a man's juice. A real meal of meat and wine. So I ate, and she went on panting with excitement. "Now," she said, "I'm ready."
The old man turned her over against the tree, and then he turned me over too and shoved me a little since I couldn't move. Carla reached up, took hold of my cock, and put the head into her cunt. Then we both pushed and it sank in to the bottom.-The old man put my arms around her so I could play with her ass.
I was getting dizzier every second. My whole body was pounding like a pulse, like one great big throbbing cock. We edged in and out, and I was feeling dizzy and sick, and at the same time more excited than I'd ever been. I felt as if my. rod were swelling to an enormous size and would bust wide open. Her ass in my hands was like hot iron. We swayed slowly, and I was on the edge of fainting. And then, suddenly, at the moment I was coming, I went into a faint and my whole body heaved, and I shook and trembled. It was the greatest thing that ever happened to me.
I didn't feel myself fall to the ground. I was just lost in the coming which seemed to go on and on, like my whole body was oozing.
When I woke up, the old man was gone. He'd pulled his clothes out from under us and had taken his money back. But I didn't care. It was certainly worth the money to have learned about this.
"Are you all right?" I asked Carla.
"Yes. Wasn't it wonderful?"
"Great stuff."
"He's always having upside-down parties. Everyone gets upside-down, all squeezed together, all fucking each other. It's really marvelous. But now, I suppose, he'll never want to see me again."
"So what? We'll have our own parties. Don't you like me better than him?"
"Of course I do," she said, and to prove it, that mouth of hers started working away at my cock.
We fucked once more and then got dressed and left the wood. We took a' taxi back to the center of Paris and went to a bar, and drank and talked about old times. I told her I wished I didn't know her so I could rape her again.
"I'm just in the mood for a rape," I said. "Well, if you can't rape me, why don't you rape someone eke? I'll help you."
"You will?"
"Yes, but not just yet. I'd like to rest up a bit from our adventure in the woods."
"All right. Well, tell me what you've been doing all these years I haven't seen you."
She smiled. "I've been fucking."
"All the time?"
"At nights, anyway. I've had some wonderful men."
"I'll bet they weren't as good as me."
"Oh, no, heavens!"
"Tell me, Carla. You like my cock?"
"Are you serious? You know I'm wild about it."
"Tell me more."
"What do you want me to say?" She reached under the table and dug her hands into my fly and began playing with my cock. "It's not the kind of thing you talk about. You use it. It uses you."
"I know, but tell me about it."
"It's tremendous. It's the longest one I've ever seen. Also the thickest. It's shaped perfectly. It's as hard as a diamond, as red as a flame. It shatters me and seers me." She paused. "Now, you tell me about my cunt."
I reached up her dress and shoved three fingers right up her hole. "That's what I tell you about it," I said. "Is that all you have to say?"
I dug another finger in, and she said, "Now you're talking my language."
I said, "Now, tell me about my balls."
She left go of my cock and began to play around with my nuts.
"I've told you," she said
"No, no. Real words, I mean."
"You're so conceited," she said.
"Conceited?" I said. Imagine anyone calling me that! "Why, you cunt-faced little cock-sucker!"
"Never mind all this talk," she said. "I want some action. Let's go out and find someone for you to rape."
"Good idea. But I still don't like your calling me conceited. You be careful what you say or you'll be out the best beef any girl ever had."
So then we went out and walked around for an hour or so, until we found a good dark street. We strolled up the street until we found a house-door that was open and we walked through to see if the courtyard was a good place for rape. It turned out to be a little garden and Carla sat down on the ground. She said:
"A girl couldn't ask to be raped in a more comfortable place. I wish it was me you were raping."
"How can I rape you?" I asked her. "You're the easiest fuck in Paris. And you know what I think?"
"What?"
"I think I didn't even rape you the first time. I think you raped me.' That's how anxious for it you were."
She laughed and I squeezed her tits.
"Push your cock in between them," she said.
I did that, and she rolled her tits and got me so worked up, I wanted to jump right in her.
"Well," she said. "You're in the perfect mood now for a rape."
We left the garden and stood at the door of the house waiting for someone to come by. But it was late and no one passed for a quarter of an hour.
"Shit," I said. "I guess it's no use."
"Sh-" she whispered. "Here comes someone now."
I looked up the street, and I saw a woman walking toward us. When she finally got up close, I turned to Carla and said:
"She's a whore. No use raping her."
The woman turned to us.
"You don't have to rape me, honey," the woman said.
I saw she wasn't talking to me, but to Carla. She was a pretty good-looking woman, about forty, with a fleshy face and thick lips; she kept pushing her meaty tongue out between her lips. She wore a thin blouse that was easy to see through even in the middle of the night and on a dark street. Under the blouse were a pair of thick tits that ended in big brown nipples. I reached out and, through the blouse, took one of the nipples between my fingers. It was as stiff as a cock.
"My name's Marie, darling; what's yours?" she said to Carla and rubbed her hand across Carla's chest.
"My name's Carla," she said. "And this is Jean."
Then Marie pushed me away and backed Carla up against the door, and they started kissing. Being left out of it, I fondled Marie's fat ass.
I said: "Let's go into the garden in back."
"That's a good idea," said Carla.
So we went back to the garden and all got stripped down. Marie was a real piece. I couldn't keep my hands off her hips and thighs and I was dying for a feel of her cunt. We all got down on the grass and formed a circle: Marie's cunt was shoved in my face; Carla's cunt was in Marie's face; and my cock was in Carla's mouth. We all went at it busily. Marie had a terrific used up old hole-as big and stinking as a sewer, and it ran like a faucet. You should've seen me licking it up. But she hardly even noticed because she was so busy working away at Carla. Her hands kept grabbing Carla's tits and pulling at them. My own hands were all over Marie; I could dig my fingers right into all that soft meat.
Finally I decided I'd like to slip it into Marie, so I got my cock free from Carla and I jumped on Marie who was still busy cunt-sucking. Her knees drew back and the big purple split stood up waiting for me. I obliged her and zoomed my rod right into her. Well, I have a long thick one, but two like mine could've had room in Marie. But I know how to take care even of such flabby cunts and I wriggled and shoved and she loved it. Meanwhile, Carla moved around so that, while she kept Marie's head between her legs, she could put her face right against my ass. And while I was pumping away, I felt her tongue licking in and out of my hole. I was a lovely treat. And the moment I creamed up in Marie, Carla drove her tongue deep in my ass-hole and it was terrific.
Afterwards we sat and talked and all the time Marie kept her hand in Carla's cunt.
"I'm glad I met up with you two," Marie said. "I hope we'll have lots of pleasant meetings."
Carla took a little nibble at Marie's tit.
"I tell you what," I said. "You girls can work for me, and then we can all be together very often."
"What kind of work?" asked Marie.
"The same kind of work you've been doing all your life."
"And how much will I get for it?"
"You'll get some good fucking out of me and some good sucking out of Carla."
"But a girl can't live on love, darling. How'll I pay my rent?"
"You'll get one-third of every amount. I get from a client you take on."
"How much will that be?" she asked suspiciously.
"It depends on how much I think we can milk a client for."
"I don't know. I like a more definite arrangement."
"You stupid twat," I said. "You'll have twice as much business as you ever had. Who wants to fuck an old shit like you walking around in the streets?"
"You did, for one."
"But I wouldn't pay for it. But if you work for me, see, I get the money out of the client first then bring him around to you. Then he has to like you, because he's already paid for it."
"Well...." She was considering.
"I'll work for you, Jean," said Carla. "And needless to say, I won't expect any money for it. Of course, I hope you'll see I get interesting types. I don't want someone who'll just shove it in, then leave." She turned to Marie. "You want to work for Jean, don't you, Marie?"
"I don't know...."
"Well, then, take your hand away from me until you do know."
"Oh, all right," Marie said.
So then the three of us all crawled together to seal the contract and, since it was dawn, Carla said we ought to call it a night.
That's how Carla came to be one of my employees. And she was a big success right from the beginning. She could take on five men in an hour and she could work steadily from midnight until dawn. I could ask really high prices for her. And she was pretty smart at getting more money out of her men than they'd paid to me before climbing on her. She'd say that for another hundred francs she'd show them something special like putting her nipples up their ass. Her piece de resistance, of course, was the upside-down job and for that she'd ask as high as two thousand francs a time. And every franc she earned went right to me. She never took a franc for herself. Sometimes I'd say:
"You know, Carla, I wouldn't mind if you kept part of the money for yourself."
"Good heavens, Jean, I don't need the money. I love the work and I enjoy helping you out."
"You're an angel, that's what you are."
"And besides, all the payment I want is just a good fuck from you at least once a night."
And she always got it too. And one night every week would be devoted just to each other. Sometimes Marie would join us, but I liked to keep her out of it because when she was around I hardly ever got a chance at Carla's cunt.
Well, this happy life went on for just about two years. My business grew tremendously during that time because the war had broken out and there were soldiers all over the place. Now and then Carla would take on three or four at a time and make a big happy family out of a bunch of foreign soldiers.
I don't know how long our life together would have gone on if the Germans hadn't invaded. But then Carla got scared for her kid and she told me she was sorry but she was leaving Paris, going south.
"You're crazy," I said. "There's probably a mint to be made out of the German army."
"Not through me, Jean. Don't you know the German army's all queer."
"Is that true?"
"That's what I hear."
"Thanks for telling me. I guess I better get busy recruiting up an army of men for them."
The night before Carla left Paris we had a wild time. We stood on our heads for about two hours and fucked, fucked, fucked. By the time she left I was so dizzy, I forgot to say goodbye.
After that, for a whole week I went around Paris getting myself picked up by men and making them work for me. I was getting ready for the invasion, and by the time it came, I had eighteen men working for me.
I never saw Carla after that. As a matter-of-fact, I often wondered what became of her. I thought maybe she was killed in the war, because otherwise, after the liberation, I'm sure if she was alive, she'd have come running back to me for more....
"Well," I said to Dupont, "she was alive, I'm sure of that."
"But how could she've gone on without me?"
"That I don't know. Maybe she found someone else."
"Someone else!" he said scornfully. "No one else could make her jump the way I did."
"It seems, however, that she loved me."
"Love, love-who's talking about love? I'm talking about good, uncomplicated fucking." Hr looked at hi' watch. "It's late. I'll have to run along now. But, say, maybe you'd like me to fix up for the night-free of charge, of course: with my compliments. Any friend of Carla is a friend of mine. What do you go for?"
"Rose."
"Rose who?"
"The gill at the hotel where you used to live. She's the one who gave me your address."
"She's a good screw all right. Go right ahead. Tell her it's on the house."
We shocks hands and separated. I went back to the hotel where Rose was and climbed the steps to her room. The door was open again and I looked in and saw her lying on the bed, naked as before.
"My God," she said. "I thought you'd never come back."
"Your friend's gone."
"Yes. Did you see Jean?" I nodded.
"Any message for me?" she asked.
"Just that you were mine for the evening-with the compliments of the house."
"Get undressed," she said, rubbing the bush of hair on her loins. "I'm hot for you, honey."
I tore my clothes off and threw myself beside her on the bed. Pressing my throbbing cock against her belly, our mouths met, my hand stroking between her thighs.
"I can't wait," she said. "Fuck me quickly. Fuck me."
And with the instinct of a pigeon returning to its coop, my penis went gliding stiffly into Rose.