Chapter 2
Liz Conway scrubbed at the carpet with a stiff brush, removing the last of the suspicious looking stains she'd noticed that morning. She was relieved that they'd come out but the slender housewife was still upset.
What the hell's going on here behind my back? she wondered as she stood up and frowned at the damp carpet. It wasn't the first time she'd asked herself that question since that young sexpot had come to work for them. She hadn't wanted to hire the curvaceous redhead in the first place but she'd had no choice. With Ralph just starting out on a new job, they needed the extra income that she brought in working as a cocktail waitress at the Mood Indigo. She'd been lucky to get the job and had needed a sitter right away. Bonnie Mae was the only girl available. The older girls in the neighborhood preferred to clerk in stores and the younger ones who wanted the job were too immature.
So much as she hated to, she'd hired Bonnie Mae Owens. She had to admit, though, that little Tracy was crazy about the girl. But Liz didn't like her at all. Because she was afraid that her husband was crazy about her, too.
Oh, she knew that Ralph had cheated on her in the past. There had been others but they were women, mature adults who'd thrown themselves at his feet. And Ralph, weak when it came to the opposite sex, couldn't resist the temptation of an easy score.
But whenever Liz found out, he begged her forgiveness and swore he loved only her. Then, he'd make it up to his blonde wife. Her fur coat was to compensate for that buxom brunette. That trip to Miami Beach was to help Liz forget the topless dancer Ralph had taken up with. And the car that Liz now drove was an act of contrition for getting tangled up with a co-worker's willing wife, a mistake which had cost Ralph his job.
Each time, Liz had forgiven him because she was crazy about her husband and realized all too well how attractive other women found him, too. And, hell, she'd known right from the start that he was no saint. Lord only knows he got into Liz fast enough-right on their first date. There had been other men for Liz before Ralph, but none since. Even though he'd cheated on her, Liz had remained faithful, had stuck with her philandering husband through good times and bad.
But this was something else. To Liz Conway, screwing around with a fifteen-year-old babysitter was sick, perverted, something she couldn't tolerate. There wasn't a fur or vacation or car in the world to make her forgive that. Everyone had a breaking point and for Liz, it was the thought of her husband screwing a Goddamn kid! The mental image of Ralph humping a fifteen-year-old girl made her sick to her stomach.
And right now, her insides churned, for Liz's ugly suspicions were growing like a fast-spreading cancer. She knew damn well what these spots were here on the carpet. Last week, she'd found similar stains on the edge of the bedspread. And what about all those wet washcloths in the bathroom with the pungent smell of genital secretions still lingering? And the telltale pubic hairs lining the wash basin?
Ralph must have fucked that precocious little whore right here on the floor lust night, Liz realized as she picked up her scrub brush and pail and carried them into the kitchen. His two-timing prick is so eager, he's getting careless. But Liz would see to it that her cheating husband paid through the nose for his lecherous acts.
She wouldn't say a word to either one of them, just go on pretending she didn't suspect a thing. But Liz was determined to set a trap for the pair. She'd give them just enough rope to hang themselves and then Liz would reap her revenge. She'd divorce the fucking bastard, take his son away from him, and bleed him dry!
Her hands trembling with jealous rage, the blonde housewife lit a cigarette, took a deep drag, then slowly exhaled as she made her plans. She'd make Ralph curse the day he first laid eyes on Bonnie Mae Owens. For she was going to be the costliest piece of ass he'd ever screwed!
Elmira Simms' pudgy face grew mottled as she listened to her classmate describe last night's activities in the Conway house. The two girls were sneaking a cigarette in the school john while Bonnie Mae told her all about what she'd done with Emil and Weasel the night before.
"It was really wild," Bonnie Mae said, rolling her eyes while her obese friend listened intently, leaning close. "You know how Emil's hung and how far in he can get. But Weasel really felt good, too. God, he's wide!"
Elmira's eyes sparkled with excitement and she felt a soft throbbing between her heavy thighs. "How many times did you cum?"
"Three times," Bonnie Mae sighed. "And each time was better than the last. I thought I'd go crazy it felt so great."
"I came six times once," Elmira boasted, tossing her stringy, lifeless brown hair. "When some of the guys gang-banged me in the back of the field house one night." The throbbing below became an ache as the girl recalled the night she'd sprawled on the grass, her heavy thighs spread wide and yielding, as penis after swollen penis entered her. "Man, that night was the greatest."
"Well, last night wasn't bad either, honey," Bonnie Mae said, lifting her cigarette to her full lips. "It was the first time I ever had two guys at once." Smiling, she stroked her full breasts. "Christ, Elmira, did they ever give my boobs a going over. Look at the marks I've got," she said, lifting her sweater. The melonous mounds that bobbed at her friend were bruised with purplish hickies and her lovely nipples were red and inflamed. The redheaded teenager stroked them tenderly. "But it was worth it. Mmmmmm, how I love to have these babies sucked."
Elmira stared at her friend's huge, bared breasts, the excited blotches in her face getting brighter. "I know a guy who's really great, Bonnie Mae. As a matter of fact, he gets his cookies from sucking tits as much as he does from fucking. And he can take on two pairs of boobs at a time."
Bonnie Mae lowered her sweater and grinned. "No shit!"
Elmira giggled. "I'm telling you, this is really his hangup. Just give Potsy a mouthful of tit and he's happy as a baby." Her eyes grew thick-lidded and dreamy. "But he sucks a hell of a lot harder than some hungry kid. And the things he does with his tongue! Oooh, I could almost cum just thinking about it."
"Potsy?" Bonnie Mae repeated incredulously.
The pasty-faced boy was even fatter than Elmira. Potsy was in her afternoon study but she'd never given him a second glance.
"Bonnie Mae," Elmira said, her voice lowering, "how about you and me and Potsy getting together for a little fun ? I can guarantee you'll enjoy yourself." Her eyes dropped to her friend's bulging sweater. "But I warn you, you better wait till those big boobs stop aching. Because once Potsy gets through with them, they're going to hurt like hell."
Why not? Bonnie Mae asked herself, still annoyed with the way that Emil and Weasel had taken off so abruptly last night. Let them find someone else to screw! She'd let her boobs heal and then give Elmira's idea a try. It sounded like fun. And two girls going at it with one guy would be still another treat for her. "I'm game, Elmira," she said, smiling. "It sounds wild."
Elmira giggled with excitement as they discussed their plans. Potsy's apartment wasn't any good as someone was always home. And Elmira's prostitute of a mother needed their place herself.
"We could use my house after school," Bonnie Mae offered. "My old lady leaves for work at one and gets home about eight thirty. But I have to leave for the Conways' at seven."
Elmira shook her head. "That's no good either, sweetie. Potsy works after school and don't get home till after nine."
The girls decided that the Conway house was their only solution. Bonnie Mae would wait until Ralph Conway announced that he was going to be quite late, then she'd phone Elmira. Elmira would contact Potsy and the two of them would hurry over to where Bonnie Mae babysat.
"And don't forget to come the back way so no one sees you," Bonnie Mae reminded.
The bell rang for their next class and the two teenagers tossed their cigarettes in the nearest toilet and headed for the door. "And don't you forget either," the pudgy-face girl teased as they parted in the corridor. "Save those gorgeous tits of yours for our big night!"
Bonnie Mae was returning from the corner store, a carton of Coke in one hand and a sack of groceries in the other, when she saw Nick LaRocco's red Riviera pull up to the curb. Her heart fluttering, the girl quickened her pace so that she reached the door of their apartment building just as he did.
"Oh, hi, Nick," she greeted, feigning surprise as the dark-eyed young man emerged from his car. Jeez, he's built, she thought, admiring his firm, muscular body as he walked towards her. Even in his soiled, sweaty work clothes, Nick did something to her that she didn't quite understand.
"Well, if it isn't little Bonnie Mae," he replied, white teeth flashing in his tanned face. "Here, let me carry that." He took the heavy carton of soda from the girl and held the door open for her.
The young redhead was so taken by surprise that for a few moments, she forgot to play temptress. The boys she knew never did things like that. Then, regaining her composure, she smiled seductively, her green eyes teasing as she sauntered through the doorway.
Taking full advantage of the fact that Nick was directly behind her, the teenager swung her hips from side to side as she mounted the steps, fiercely glad that she was wearing her tightest pair of low-cut jeans.
"Thanks, Nick," she purred as they reached the door of her apartment. "How about letting me pay you back with an icy Coke?"
He shook his head. "Thanks, anyway, little girl," he said, trying not to stare at the perky nipples poking their way through her bulging sweater. "But I can't. No time. Got to get out of these clothes and into the shower." Winking, he handed her the carton of Coke. "Got me a big night in store, know what I mean?"
Whistling, he gave a little wave, stuffed his hands into his pockets and strode down the hall. Bonnie Mae stood staring after him until, without so much as a backward glance, the handsome, young man turned into his own apartment.
"Damn him!" the girl muttered, dropping the carton of Coke onto the kitchen table with a thud. Tears of frustration stung her eyes as she emptied the small sack of groceries. He called me little girl again, she thought, slapping two pieces of baloney onto a stale slice of bread. If I wore a bra, I'd need a D-cup, but he still thinks of me as a kid!
She opened a bottle of Coke, poured it over ice and lifted the glass to her lips, trying to swallow the lump in her throat before sitting down to her cold and lonely supper.
Nick LaRocco scrubbed his powerful body and tried to think about Maria, the broad he planned to screw tonight. Maria was slim and pretty in a delicate sort of way, with soulful eyes, and Nick had taken her out three times now. An experienced and expert lover, Nick had sensed, instinctively, that he'd have to take it slow and easy with this one. He'd wined and dined the girl, sent her flowers, the whole bit. And tonight, Nick knew he would reap his just reward. For little Maria was ripe and ready. How well he recognized the familiar signs of an approaching sexual conquest!
Still, he kept seeing the outline of Bonnie Mae's pointed nipples, the tempting fullness of her young breasts under that sweater she wore. God, that kid's got a pair of knockers, he thought, scrubbing his testicles. Once again, he saw the curve of her rounded buttocks as she'd ascended the stairway tonight. "Man, how I wanted to reach out and grab myself a handful of that cute little ass," he muttered aloud, knowing full well that the teenage girl had wiggled it for his benefit.
His muscular arm reached out to turn the hot water handle to off. Cool it, man, he told himself as he stood under the cold spray. Forget Bonnie Mae Owens, Nicky boy. That kid spells trouble with a capital "T". And you've had enough of that, remember? So she's a looker and she's stacked and she's dying to offer you her pretty, little pussy. She's out of bounds.
No matter how luscious her tits looked, or how cute her ass, there was no getting away from the fact that the kid was fifteen years old. Jailbait! Nick had had trouble with the law already and didn't want to go that route again. It had been a long road back but he had a good job now, drove a new car, and fucked more than his share of broads. He didn't want to mess things up. Why screw around with jail-bait when he had plenty of legal pussy putting out for him?
No, he'd keep right on discouraging the aggressive teenager down the hall until she finally gave up and went panting after someone else. Besides, that old lady of hers looked as hard as a prick that was ready to blow its wad. Nick didn't want the law on his tail again and he didn't want a shotgun wedding, either. And Mrs. Owens looked like she'd either blow the whistle or arrange a quick ceremony if she caught anyone screwing around with her daughter.
Nick didn't want to wind up behind bars again and knew that marriage could be a prison, too. Like his father, Nick had a powerful sex drive but unlike his old man, Nick didn't want to marry someone with an average libido and constantly cheat on her. His old man's sexual exploits had driven Nick's mother to suicide.
Nick had loved his mother and after her tragic death, he went off the deep end himself for a while. That's when he got into trouble and did a stint behind bars. Unlike the father he now hated, Nick had paid for his mistakes. Nick didn't know where his old man was now and he didn't give a damn. But he did know that he wasn't going to fuck up his life the way his old man did.
As much as Nick liked kids, he wasn't going to get married unless he found a piece of ass that was really special. It would take a hell of a lot of woman to satisfy his huge, insatiable cock. He'd screwed so many broads over the years that he'd lost count and none of them was good enough to make him give up all the others.
Most couldn't match his frenzied pace. The few who could keep up didn't excite him enough to make him want to screw them exclusively. Whoever became Mrs. Nick LaRocco would have to be a looker and a sexpot. But not a nympho. He wanted a hungry pussy, all right, but not one with the morals of an alley cat. Nick would demand complete fidelity from his wife or he'd break her ass.
He stepped from the shower and rubbed his tanned body briskly with a towel. His broad penis stiffened as his thoughts strayed, again, to the well-stacked teenager down the hall. "Down, boy," he said to his growing erection. "That kid's jailbait, remember? Besides, she's probably not half as good as she looks." Nick often found that the broads who looked and acted the sexiest wound up being the biggest flops in the sack.
"Concentrate on little Maria," he reminded himself, his hand closing around the neck of his enlarged organ to give it a few quick, vigorous strokes.