Chapter 7
"You know what that makes us, don't you?"
It was Saturday again. The twins were sitting in their usual drugstore, sipping Cokes after doing some shopping for their mother. Barbara pushed her emptied glass away. "That would do me more good if it had some liquor in it." She patted her lips lightly with the napkin so as not to smear her lip-stick. She balled the napkin and dropped it in the glass, then inquired, "What makes who what?"
"This business of running over to Harry's apartment every evening." Betty frowned across the table at her. "We're nothing but a couple of call girls, whether we like it or not. Mother is beginning to get suspicious. Yesterday she asked me what we were doing. The boyfriend story has worn too thin."
"We'll think of something. Did you call Sam?"
"Yes. While you were buying the crochet thread. He didn't answer."
"Maybe he's out of town or working. Did Harry give you any money last night."
"No. Are you kidding."
"I made him pay me."
"Oh, Barb! You shouldn't have. That-that only makes it worse." Betty's voice rose in a little wail.
"Money never made anything any worse," Barbara mentioned practically.
"Oh, but it does. Can't you see? Now you're a whore, just as sure as you're sitting there."
"I don't care." Her sister became defiant. "I told him I wasn't going to go on my back for nothing, picture or no picture. I haven't spent it," she added, as though that justified what she had done. "I told him I was going to add it to my 'Hate Harry Bleeker' fund."
"What are you talking about?"
Barbara found a cigarette and snapped her lighter. "Insurance," she answered cryptically. "I mean it."
They paid for their Cokes and went out to the street.
"What time do we have to be there this evening?" Betty asked sullenly. "Is there such a thing as a call girls' union?"
"If there is, I never heard of it." Barbara saw the school principal and his wife approaching and quickly got rid of her cigarette.
"Well, well!" The principal stopped while his wife beamed at them and went on to look in a store window. "What are you girls doing with this wonderful summer? Working, perhaps?"
Barbara was about to answer for both of them when, of all people, Harry turned the corner, talking animatedly with Sam. They appeared to be arguing about something as they came up the block.
Harry bowed and Sam nodded but they did not stop.
"Let me see." The principal glanced after them and stroked his chin. "I seem to know the tall one. Artist or something, isn't he?"
Barbara bit her lip. Damn the luck. Only for him, she'd have stopped Sam and asked him for Hank's address and to hell with what Harry might think. "I really don't know," she said offhandedly. "We met them one night at a party."
The principal nodded and went on to join his wife.
"They must have made up," Betty said, when they were alone again. "Remember last time? Sam told Harry to go and foo-foo himself."
"Well," Barbara tried to sound philosophical, "at least, we know Sam's around. Let's try and call him tonight. He's got to be at home sometime."
Harry had warned them to be at his apartment early in the afternoon. "I've got a special all fixed up. You'll enjoy it," he informed Barbara. Betty had been in the bathroom, getting rid of Bert's joy juice, as he called it.
"I hope he hasn't propositioned another tit guy," Betty said as they started to walk home. "I can't think of anything more disgusting than to have some goon blow his nuts all over one's face."
"Depends on the guy. I've met a few who I wouldn't have minded coming in my ear."
They made it to Harry's place on time. Barbara paid off the taxi. "Remind me to put that on the expense account," she muttered to Betty. "And speaking of expenses, make him come across before we leave."
"I can't, sis." Betty shook her head quickly. "Even if he offered me money, I wouldn't take it."
"More fool you," her sister retorted. "We're in this thing. We might as well collect something for our trouble."
"No." Betty held her chin out. "He can make me lie down for whoever he brings along but he can't make a prostitute out of me."
"Hoity-toity. Get off your high horse."
They knocked and Harry let them in. His greeting lacked enthusiasm. He was drinking his invariable highball but he did not offer them a drink.
"What happened, pimp?" Barbara needled him. She didn't care what she said to him. He might cuss her out but that was all. He needed them too much to come back with any muscle. "Lost your address book or something?"
He appeared to be only half listening. He took a gulp of whisky, then set his glass down and said, "They aren't coming."
"You don't say. Who's they?"
"A couple of guys from out of town, nice joes, out for a good time. We'd have had a ball."
"You mean you would have. In any case, show or not, they paid you, didn't they?"
He drank again and shook his head. "Not these types. They're big time. They pay later. They want to see what they're getting before making with the green."
"That let's us off the hook, then. Come on, Betty. Let's go home."
He put a hand up. "Hold it. I've been doing some thinking. You both still need some coaching."
"Oh, no!" Betty protested. "Not the dildo again."
"No. This time we'll see if we can't make it live."
He left them wondering what he meant and went over to the phone. He had a knack of cupping the receiver against his mouth, so they could not hear much of the conversation. He talked for several minutes before hanging up. He looked happier when he came back.
"They'll be over right away," he said.
"We're not mind readers," Betty pointed out. "Who are you talking about?"
"A guy and his wife. They're going to give you a few pointers."
"You don't say. You mean they'll do their thing right in front of our eyeballs?" Her tone had been cold. Now it was incredulous.
"Why not? Of course, they expect to get paid for it."
"It might be cheaper if you got a couple of girls already broken in. This is going to cut into your profit."
He grinned for the first time since they had arrived. "I'll stay with what I've got. And don't break your heart about the expense. I'll make that up later."
He emptied his glass and chewed a piece of ice reflectively. He stopped crunching after a while and got up to go into the kitchen. "No booze for you broads today," he said, over a shoulder.
"Why?" Barbara could have used a stiff drink. She hated this place.
He turned in the kitchen doorway. "You don't need one. You won't be screwing today."
"What's that got to do with it?"
Harry lost his temper. Perhaps it was her insistence that riled him. "You dumb bitch!" he snapped. "Why do you think I fed you liquor before? For love, maybe?"
When she kept silent, he went on in his gravelly tone. "It was the only way I could get pills down you. Hasn't it ever struck you as strange that, after all the cock you've had, neither of you are pregnant? How stupid can you get?"
Not as stupid as you think, buster. Barbara had found some contraceptive pills in a drawer of her mother's dresser. The box was marked, so she could not be mistaken. She had insisted on Betty taking one with her each time they had been exposed. She had an idea that her mother intended her to find the pills, rather than embarrass both of them by a lecture. In spite of her tolerant attitude, her mother knew the score. Barbara suspected her of having a lover or several and heartily approved, now their father was gone. To save "explaining, she told Betty that she bought them.
"There they are now." Harry got up to answer the door and ushered in a couple who looked to be in their middle twenties. They nodded to the twins and settled themselves on the couch. Harry did not introduce them. He addressed them as Molly and Pat and mixed them a drink apiece, making Barbara's mouth water.
"Here's to sin." He raised his own glass. "Have you decided what you're going to do?"
"We talked it over. From the information you gave us over the telephone, we weren't sure what experience the girls have had-" Molly stopped as Barbara broke in.
"Neither of us are virgins, if that's what you mean."
Harry gave her a dirty look, as though telling her to keep out of it. Betty was sizing the husband up. He was the physical type, tall and muscular and reasonably good-looking. Molly, if that was her real name, was petite, with a good figure and rather tremendous breasts. Bert, big penis and all, could have lost himself between them.
"Then we don't have to worry," Molly said. "I think it's only fair to mention that having sex in front of third parties does not embarrass us." She smiled at both of them. "We are nudists and we have belonged to the same swingers' club for years. So try and feel comfortable. Maybe you'll learn something."
They finished their drinks and asked where the bedroom was. Harry led the way along the hall, carrying an extra chair.
"It's kind of gloomy," the husband decided. "Maybe we'd better have some more light." He pushed the switch inside the door and the overhead fixture lifted the shadows off the bed.
"We don't need this." Molly pointed to the plastic quilt and Harry bundled it up and tossed it into a corner. After a final look around, she nodded to her husband and he came over and kissed her tenderly. "The first kiss is important," she told the twins, when he released her. "It can be either French or simple, depending on the partners. If French, sometimes it's a good idea for the girl to put her hand down and stroke the man's penis lightly. like this."
She turned back to her husband. He put his arms around her and she slipped a hand down to his crotch. His penis was getting hard and her fingers found it and rubbed it up and down gently. Both girls stared as it grew under her hand.
They kissed again and when they had finished, the wife reached up and darted her tongue into her husband's ear. His hand found her breasts and he fondled them and teased the enlarging nipples.
"Undressing should come only when both parties are aroused," Molly explained. She might have been teaching a class in mathematics. Her tone was impersonal, even a little dry. "In most cases, the man should undress the girl." She made a motion with her hand and he stepped behind her and unzipped her dress, drawing it off her shoulders in the same motion. He bent down to kiss her neck and shoulders, then unhooked her brassiere and let it fall to expose her big breasts. He took both of them in his hands, reaching under her arms, while he pressed his crotch against her buttocks so that she could feel his erection.
"Getting the clothes off the girl is a part of foreplay," Molly turned her head to mention. "The man should not undress until she is naked. Then he should do it quickly and get back to her while she is still excited."
To illustrate her point, she finished undressing herself while her husband, without any prompting, got rid of his shirt and trousers and underwear and turned around at once, kicking off his loafers to fit his hard prick between her thighs, stooping a little because, until he bent his knees, the head was touching her navel.
At once she commenced to nibble his nipples, placing the tip of her tongue on each one before taking it between her lips. Slowly, as though working by the numbers, he began to dry-fuck her. If the twins had not been absorbed in the lesson, it might have seemed laughable. He had his hands down around her buttocks, trying to lift her up to meet his stroking and she was standing on tiptoe to reach him.
When they stepped apart, his penis was so rigid that it was standing up against his belly. Molly pointed to it. "He's ready now and so is the girl. The next step is the bed."
She whispered something and he nodded. "We'll start off with a position called the 'walk-in.' You'll see why in a minute."
Betty nudged Barbara as the wife stretched out across the bed with her small behind on the very edge of the mattress. Lying on her back, she raised one leg with the knee stiff and he took it and set her heel against his shoulder. He still had to stoop to fit his cock in her cunt. When the head disappeared, he reached underneath her and raised her buttocks so that he could stand up straight. Then he proceeded to fuck her in slow motion.
"Did you see that?" Betty breathed. "He just strolled into her."
Molly moved her leg and slewed around until she was sitting on the side of the bed. Her husband relaxed alongside of her, with an affectionate arm around her shoulders.
"That was just to demonstrate," she said. "Neither the man nor the girl can stand much of that. Both come quickly." She put a hand out and caressed his still-tense penis. "Isn't it a beauty?" She pushed the foreskin back and lifted it between her fingers. "And it can stay hard for hours."
She was still as calm and collected as when they started their act. Her voice was quite unemotional. Barbara wondered how she could maintain her detachment. Her own clitoris was as hard as the husband's cock and she noticed that Betty was squirming in her chair.
"The man-on-top posture is usually known as the 'missionary position,' " Molly expounded. "It is called that because many men of the cloth used it, covering themselves with a sheet or keeping their clothes on, in the belief that a naked body was indecent. I don't think there's any need to demonstrate it. And we can skip the 'horse' one. School kids know both of them these days. Then there's the one where the husband lies on his back and the wife sits on his penis, facing either front or back. I don't recommend either. The man is hampered for movement and climax is a lonesome business. Isn't it, honey?" She released his erection and leaned closer to kiss him.
Harry had been taking it all in, sitting backward in his chair with his chin on his arms. "You're doing fine." he told Molly. "Don't stop now.'
She smiled at him and Barbara automatically checked to see if he had an erection. If he had, it didn't show and she looked back at Molly, trying to determine whether it was interest in what she was saying or the practical demonstration which accompanied the lecture that was making her feel so hot. She wanted that horny prick in her so badly that she could almost taste it.
"The missionary and the back-entry positions seem to be the most common. But there are many variations of both." She and her husband went on to illustrate the side approach, in which they faced each other on the bed and she put her leg over his hip. From where Betty was sitting, she could see his prick bury itself right up to his balls and move in and out of Molly's pussy before they uncoupled. After that, they gave a brief exhibition of the woman-on-top position. Betty did not care for that because she liked to feel the man's weight Barbara, being more aggressive, made a mental note to remember the thrill she got while watching the woman do the fucking. The husband, limited to movement only when she lifted her cunt, looked as though he was being raped.
Another odd thing about the demonstration, in addition to the man being able to maintain what looked like a permanent erection, was the matter-of-fact way in which it was conducted. Molly might have been giving a television lesson in cooking, with her husband serving as her assistant. They screwed one another in half a dozen more positions which she explained were more modifications of the two main ones. Apparently, neither of them came. The husband's erection remained the same; if anything, a bit harder.
Another of the positions that Barbara liked was the one where the woman lay on her back with the man on his knees, facing her. When they were ready, she lifted both legs and placed her feet against his shoulders. This action exposed her pussy to the man's penis and she controlled the action by bending and straightening her knees. "Kicking herself off," Betty labeled that posture.
"Incidentally," Molly mentioned, breathing a little faster, faster from the exertion but otherwise quite calm, "if I forgot to mention it, that side lay, where I put my thigh over Pat's hip, is especially adapted to short-and-tall couples like we are. There's no strain and the shorter one can reach the partner's nipples and suck them without interruption. In our case, Pat-likes me to stimulate him that way during the whole time we are screwing and his enjoyment adds to mine. It's something to remember."
Harry had left the bedroom while she was speaking. Now he came back with three highballs on a tray. "You've earned a drink," he said. "Take a break and drink hearty."
"What about them?" Molly indicated the girls with her chin. "Or are they too young?"
"They don't need one." He dismissed the matter offhandedly, as though they were of minor importance. His interest appeared to be in what they were learning, not in how they felt. Damn son-of-a-bitch, Barbara raged inwardly. They'll think he owns us or that we're poor relatives or something. The maddening part was that she could do nothing about it. She wouldn't have cared, except that she had taken a liking to Molly and hated to be put down in front of her. Out of a corner of her mouth, she whispered to Betty. "What do you think of it?"
"It's groovy," her sister whispered back. "Only some of it's boring. I like the regular positions best"
When Molly finished her drink and said she needed a chair, Barbara stood up and offered hers.
"The chair way is sometimes used by fat couples who are not comfortable in a bed. A cushion on the seat helps." She motioned to her husband to sit down, first handing him a pillow from the bed. Then she turned her back to him and sat in his lap, slowly, so that with her assistance, he was able to guide his prick into her vagina. As soon as they were coupled, she rested her hands on his knees and moved up and down, spreading her thighs and leaning forward.
"You see?" she said, as she stood up again. "The penetration is complete. If the man has a big belly, the woman leans further forward. That one is a favorite when the girl is pregnant. She can adjust her posture to suit herself. And there is no way for her to get hurt"
The sight of that unbelievable erection plowing balls deep between Molly's spread thighs was almost too much for Barbara. With difficulty, she restrained herself from making an excuse and going into the bathroom to masturbate. She lost track after that, staring at what was going on and not seeing very much of it. Christ, you had to be made of iron to stand all that without any relief.
Betty favored the position where the girl lay flat on her face, with the man straddling her, giving her all his weight while he screwed her.
"That way should not be attempted unless the man has a long penis. It's known as a 'reverse-missionary' and preachers are said to like it because the wife cannot see them doing it. It is also popular among homosexuals." Barbara listened with half an ear. She was wishing that the "big time" guys had shown. Then she would have enjoyed having a fuck instead of watching One.
Now they were demonstrating what Molly called the "stand-up version of the walk-in." In her keyed-up condition, Barbara found that she wanted to giggle because it rooked a little as though they were dancing. They faced each other. Molly put her arms around her husband's neck, holding him loosely. With one hand, he hooked the back of her knee and raised it until it was touching his hip, using the other hand to steer his length into her vagina. When he had entered her, she hugged him closer and again the twins saw a slow-motion exhibition of screwing.
"The partners can please themselves how they go about it after they are in position. like the original one we started with, the man's penis goes all the way in and is therefore less-likely to slip out if the girl-likes to work with him. There is plenty of room for movement and if the man holds her leg firmly, she shouldn't get tired of standing on one foot. Some couples we've met like to make this action mutual. Others prefer it when the girl stands still and allows the man to take her that way." Molly finished explaining and tapped her husband's shoulder. He released her knee and pulled away from her, freeing his penis while she circled his waist with an arm and smiled up at him fondly.
It was incredible, Barbara reflected. They were clearly in love with each other, yet they did not mind demonstrating the physical side of their affection in public. And Molly had admitted that they were swingers. She had heard about husbands and wives who liked to change sex partners but had always figured them for some kind of kooks who had lost their marbles. She could understand a husband cheating if he kept it under wraps and even a wife, if they were tired of each other and found a more exciting partner. But for a couple to go together to a club and separate there to screw with strangers was something she could not understand, unless they had both flipped. Yet here were these two, suited in every way and apparently quite normal, who tomorrow might swing with as much enjoyment as if they had taken in a show or gone out to dinner. Incredible was the only word for it.
Betty had been fascinated by the way the husband's balls swung in his wife's crotch. Her raised thigh gave a full view of the base of the buried erection, which the hanging testicles appeared to drive still deeper. like her sister, Betty experienced wonder that such a fond pair could bring themselves to perform sexually before an audience. She thought briefly about the swinging bit but gave it up because by this time she was on the edge of coming.
Nevertheless, the wonder asserted itself enough through her excitement to ask the question why such a well-matched pair should seek other indulgence when between them, they apparently had everything, including mutual respect. How many pussies had that prick been into? And how many other erections had plowed Molly's cunt? If she had a man like that, she thought a bit fiercely, she'd stay with him and to hell with anyone else. Then she forgot it all as she watched the husband uncouple. His dark crotch hair moved back from her blonde muff and when his cock came out, it was wet and shiny in the light. The hardest fight Betty had had all day was to keep her finger away from her clitoris.
". . . other things besides actual screwing." Molly, still hugging her husband's waist, was lecturing again. "There is good old sixty-nine, then we have the single action, in which the girl, in plain language, sucks the man off and vice versa. Homosexuals, who probably don't interest you, like to jack each other off, often together, using their hands and kissing while they do it. I only mention that because we have found men who are heterosexual and still like the girl to give them a hand job, being afraid of disease or an inconvenient pregnancy or just because they get their kicks out of watching themselves come."
She moved away from her husband and sat on the edge of the bed. "In a little while, we'll show you our favorite position, which I have only been able to enjoy with Pat. But before I quit harping on external stimulation like mouth or hand masturbation or 'pussy-eating,' I want to stress their importance, sometimes all of them, in foreplay, which is simply the action necessary to arouse the partners before actual coupling, as we showed you earlier. To my way of thinking, and Pat agrees with me, foreplay is as much a part of the act as penetration, which is the extension of arousal. Without the required amount of tonguing and kissing and sucking and nibbling, the end is usually disappointing, especially to the girl; something else to remember.
MSo that's par for the course. If you've learned something, we're happy for you. If I'd had someone when I was your age to show me the ropes, I would have enjoyed sex a lot more." She stopped the look at Harry. The ice had melted in his glass and it was still half full, as though he had forgotten it "Do we get another drink," she asked, "if we show you the way we like best?"
"Of course." He sounded as though he needed to clear his throat He still showed no sign of an erection. For that alone, Barbara decided, he had to be creepy.
Molly got up from the bed and walked over to her husband to put both hands on his shoulders. First, though, she tested his hardness by pushing his erection down, then releasing it
When it sprang back, she gave a little nod of satisfaction and kissed him lingeringly. Then she looked at her audience and said, "Watch closely."
At once, she jumped high and put her legs around her husband's waist, where her arm had been a few minutes before. She crossed her ankles behind his back, then pressed with her knees to push away from him while he put an arm under her buttocks and lined the head of his penis with her cunt. He entered her quickly, then wrapped the other arm around her upper body, crushing her outsize tits against the hair on his chest, holding her close against him while he fed the cock to her in quick, jerking thrusts.
Now his balls hung free, swinging in time to the stepped-up cadence. Each time he pulled back, they slammed into his crotch with a little slapping sound. Mechanically, Barbara counted the times he drove his prick home. Nine. Ten. At the eleventh entry, he swung her a little higher and lowered his head to find her nipple. Sucking it hard, he screwed faster and faster, then straightened his back and grunted once. He must have come then. Molly gave a little cry and moved her hands off his shoulders to take his face and kiss him rapturously.
They posed like that for a full minute. At last, she uncrossed her feet and he let her down easily. Betty, quite sure that she had gone out of her mind, tried to see his cock again when he took it out, but he turned and went into the bathroom. Molly took a deep breath and stopped panting.
"That was 'the jump-up,' " she explained. "It takes a strong man with a hard penis, as you saw." Her eyes found Harry then and she said, "Now, about that drink."