Chapter 8
They arrived in Buffalo around ten o'clock. Following the willful young woman's directions, Mark drove to the Korning residence and parked outside the house.
"Are you coming in with me?" she asked, her face void of emotion.
"Is it necessary?"
"He could be violent if he's drunk," she said. "He might try to rape me."
"Oh, alright," Mark sighed, climbing out of the car. "I would like to head back before midnight. I'm not really in any kind of mood to play homecoming."
"God, you are a bastard. At last I see your true nature."
"It took me awhile to realize what it was also," he scoffed. "It took you to bring out the worst in me."
She didn't say anything more as they walked to the front door. Tammy knocked on the front door.
They heard footsteps approaching. And then the door opened. Standing before them was a balding, pot-bellied, broken-down man in his forties.
"Hello, father," she said.
"What a surprise," he smiled, obviously drunk. "Where have you been all these years?"
"I'm sure you care," the young woman scoffed, as she pushed her way inside the house.
"What happened to you?" Peter Korning asked. "You look like you've been in an accident. Your clothes are all torn, and you're muddy."
"You're really concerned, huh?" she looked about the house. "Nothing has changed much. Too drunk to clean up, eh?"
"Of course I'm concerned," he said. "I have worried about you. Were you in a car crash?"
"No, Mark and I had an accident..."
"Yea, it was fatal," the young writer smiled.
"I've been so worried," the father stammered. "Where have you been these two years? I've been worried sick."
"Don't give us that shit," Mark yelled. "I've heard all about you. You should be very proud of yourself, for raising up such a wonderful young woman. She's just a regular sweetheart."
"Oh, I'm glad you think so," the old man smiled, not realizing that Mark was being sarcastic.
"I've come to get my things, and some of Mom's things," Tammy said.
"Well, I don't know what's left," the old man said, "but, of course, you should take what you want."
While Tammy went through the house searching for her belongings, and keepsakes from her dead mother, Peter Korning and Mark had a little talk.
"I'm sure she said some awful things about me," the father said. "And a lot of it is true. I'm not an angel, by any means. But she made life rather difficult for me, I can tell you that."
"She's no angel, either," Mark said. "None of us are, really."
"Ain't that the truth?" Peter said. "I drink too much, and I touched her when she was too young in a way that father's shouldn't touch their daughters. I couldn't help it. She reminded me so much of her mother. In looks, anyway. But her mother was a sweet and gentle woman. Not at all like Tammy."
"She isn't a little angel, that's for sure," Mark said. "In a lot of ways, I'm sorry I ever met "Well," Peter said, "she is my daughter, and I can't get rid of her that easily. Say, young fellow, would you like a drink? I have some sour mash over here..."
"No thanks, old man. You are a great example of why a man shouldn't drink."
"Yep, I know that," he said. "The doctor tells me that old John Barleycorn is going to kill me. But we all have to go someway."
"Yea, well, life can be a real bitch, can't it?"
"You speak the truth, young man," Peter said. "Life is a real test of endurance."
"What was she like before you started molesting her?"
"Oh, she told you about that, huh?"
"Yea, but I'm not blaming you. I know how she is, and I reckon she was like that before you started in on her. She probably lured you into it, the same way she did me."
"That's the truth, young fellow. She always seemed to me like some sort of witch woman.
Even as a little girl, she was sexy. Her mother was not at all like that. She was a sweet woman. I don't know why Tammy turned out the way she did. We gave her a lot of love. I wasn't a drunk like this always. I was a carpenter a damm good one at that. I was a good bread winner, and until Martha, my wife, died, we had the makings of a good family. But I turned to drink to drown out the sorrows. I didn't know what to do about Tammy. If I could have afforded it, I would have sent her away to a fine school. Or to a psychiatrist. I could see, even when she was a little one, that she was headed for trouble."
"I don't think you played it straight with her, though," Mark observed. "Fucking around with her certainly didn't help her."
"It wasn't entirely my fault," he explained. "Really it wasn't. She had this sexual way about her, even when she was a young girl. She's a bad seed, that one. I hope you don't get too tangled up with her. For your own good, young man."
"Well, I've come to realize that myself," Mark said. "I was falling in love with her. For two years I cared more about her than I did-about myself. Well, all of that's gone now. I've seen the light. But what about you? Are you getting along alright?"
"I have my union pension," he said. "The. house is paid for. I get by alright."
"So, are you men talking, about me?" Tammy appeared, wearing what Mark assumed was one of her deceased mother's dresses.
"No," Mark sighed. "You shouldn't think so highly about yourself. We have other things to talk about besides you."
"Oh, you still on this hate trip?"
"Yea, if you want to call it that," Mark said. "Do you have all the things you wanted to get?"
"Yea," she said, indicating a suitcase on the floor. "Just a few of my old dolls, and some of my mother's dresses, and jewelry."
"Well, I guess we'll be going," Mark said.
"It's getting late," Peter said. "Are you sure you don't want to spend the night?"
"No, I really want to get back to Manhattan," Mark said. "I have a lot of work to do on my novel. And there's a certain young lady I would like to see."
"Oh, you're a writer?"
"I try."
"Who's the young woman you're talking about?" Tammy asked.
"A certain redhead," he said.
"Pinky?"
"Maybe."
"She's mine," Tammy yelled. "Don't you go close to her. Do you understand?"
"Don't tell me what to do, dammit!"
The young woman fell silent.
"Well, it's been nice talking to you," Mark took the old man's hand. "I think we both understand each other. We've both been victimized by this young bitch."
"You said it, pal," Peter said. "It's not always the man's fault, is it?"
"You guys think that I'm a little witch, eh?"
"No comment," Mark said, as he moved to the front door. "Come on, Tammy, we have a long drive ahead of us. This time, you can drive. I'm going to sleep."
"Hey, Pop," Tammy said, "you want to see my new car?"
The old man followed the two outside. "That's a nice car. Rolls Royce, isn't it?"
"Yep," Tammy smiled. "I paid for it. It cost me $80,000. Pretty good, huh?"
"Well, you always were crazy about money and things."
"She has a great sense of values, doesn't she?"
"Yea," the old man winked at Mark. "But all the possessions in the world, does not a happy person make."
"Money can get me what I want," Tammy said.
"Money can't buy love, or even friendship, my dear," the father said. "I hope for your own peace of mind that you come to understand that."
"Yea, well, thanks for the philosophy, pop," Tammy said, throwing the suitcase into the car. "I don't think we'll be seeing each other again. So enjoy yourself while you drink yourself to death."
"Isn't she a sweetheart?" the writer smiled, sympathetically.
"I wish she had never been born."
"I wish I had never met her," Mark said, climbing into the passenger side of the car.
The Rolls Royce sped away from the curb, with the young blonde bitch at the wheel.
"I should have known that you would take his side," she said.
"You just shut' up," Mark said. "I don't want to hear a word from you for the rest of the drive."
"Yes, sir," she was bitter, but not ready to let go of her hold on the writer. In her mind, she figured that he was simply playing a macho game with her, trying to gain the upper hand.
Back in New York, life resumed, but on a different level. Tammy and Mark rarely spoke. He spent most of his time working on the novel, and out of the apartment. He began seeing old friends, trying to put the life he had abandoned prior to Tammy back together.
She busied herself with work, making money, and trying to establish an independent life. She would have rich men come by the apartment now and then to pick her up for a date. It was obvious to Mark that she did so in an attempt to make him jealous.
But he wasn't jealous. He really could care less. As far as he was concerned, Tammy couldn't move out of the apartment soon enough. He had made up the guest bedroom for himself. He didn't want to share a bed with the blonde any longer.
Mark found Pinky's address and phone number in Tammy's address book, and when he called her, she was thrilled to hear from him.
On the phone, the lovely young redhead told Mark that Tammy had told her that she was on the outs with Mark, and forbade her to see him.
The writer and the redhead had a good' laugh over that.
"You know why she doesn't want us to see each other?" he said on the phone.
"Because she wants me all to herself?"
"Not entirely," Mark said. "I told her that I was in love with you."
"Are you?"
"I think so," he said. "But I would like to get to know you better."
"What about Tammy?"
"To hell with her," Mark said. "Listen, why don't you move in with me? I have two bedrooms here. Tammy can keep her room for as long as she wants. I don't want to be a total bastard with her."
"That sounds humane. She really isn't so bad," Pinky said. "She's just a little fucked up, and much too materialistic. The girl wants to be a millionairess."
"Oh, I suppose I can be friends with her eventually, " Mark said. "But for the time being, the less I have to do with her the better."
"Perhaps if we get close," Pinky said, "you will be able to cool off a bit with her. You know, in her own sick way, I think she cares for you a great deal."
"Well, that's just fine and dandy," Mark said. "I could care less, however."
That evening, Pinky moved her belongings over to Mark's place.
Mark and the redhead were having a drink together in the living room, when Tammy came home from the office.
"Oh, hi, Pinky," she said. "Has Mark been a good host while you were waiting for me?"
"Tammy, it isn't like that," Pinky said. "Mark and I are in love with each other. I've moved my things in here."
"Are you serious?" the young blonde turned crimson.
"Quite," Pinky said.
"That's right, Tammy," Mark said. "She'll stay with me in my room. You can continue staying on here if you wish."
"What the fuck is going on here?" the young blonde threw her attache case to the floor. "Even you are turning on me, Pinky?"
"It's not that I'm turning on you," the redhead said. "I love Mark, and he loves me. I would like to be your friend."
"Why? You feel sorry for me?"
"No, that's not it," Pinky tried to be diplomatic. "I love Mark, and I would like to be your friend."
"I don't need your friendship," she snapped. "I don't need anyone. I have a date tonight with a very rich man. I'll have him take me away from all of this."
"You stupid little bitch," Mark laughed. "When are you going to learn that it's much more than money that makes all of this happen."
"Yea, well you can be poor." the blonde said. "I'm going to be rich. Nothing else matters."
"You're wrong, girl."
"Mark's right," Pinky said. "I've been like you. I've chased after money. And it takes a lot more than money to find happiness. You'll have to learn the hard way."
"If she learns at all," Mark said. "I don't hold out much hope for the girl, personally."
"You can both get fucked," Tammy shouted. "I'm going to get dressed. I have a date tonight with a million dollars."
"You said that already," Mark laughed. "That's just great. I hope it feels good to fuck a million dollars. I hope it makes you very happy."
"Come on, Pinky," Mark said, "let's go play in the tub. We can have a nice bubble bath, and relax."
"Don't use any of my bath crystals," the blonde shouted, as she left the room.
"I'll use what I want," he snapped. "And if you don't like it, I'll kick the shit out of you."
"Well, fuck you!" the blonde ran into her room and slammed the door. "I hate you both. You can both go to hell for all I care."
Pinky and Mark weren't paying any more attention to the spoiled little blonde bitch.
In the bathroom, they removed their clothes, and Mark prepared the bath. The strawberry-scented bath crystals foamed while the hot water ran into the tub.
Inside the over-sized tub, the naked lovers faced each other. Pinky's legs were extended past the writer, so that their genitals were nearly touching.
He washed her chest, toying with her succulent breasts, while she stroked his erect cock beneath the water.
"I'm so glad we've come to know each other so well," Pinky said. "Me, too," he smiled, tossing the sponge aside, and pulling the lovely redhead towards him, so that the tip of his hot prick touched her succulent slash.
"Not in the tub," she said. "I want you in bed."
"Okay," he leaned forward and kissed her passionately on the mouth. "There's more room in bed, anyway."
After they had rinsed the soap suds off their bodies, and dried off, they went into the bedroom and fell on the satin bed spread. Holding each other tightly, Mark pressed his mouth to hers, and pushed his tongue into her mouth. He caressed her breasts, while she fondled his nuts and cock.
Taking his erect stick in her hand, and stroking it tenderly, she pressed it against her opening. Hot, lubricating juices flowed over her red pubes, and bathed the tip of hungry penis.
Rolling the lovely woman over on her back, Mark kissed her passionately on the mouth, working his hands over her pleasure-swollen breasts,. and kissing her passionately on the mouth.
They were both groaning with increasing desire.
When his mouth was against her glorious pussy, his tongue began exploring the crevices and folds of her snatch. Placing his hands beneath her ass globes, he lifted her up off the bed, and ran his tongue deeply into her pussy.
He moved his mouth up to her throbbing clitoris, and took the magic meat into his mouth. He flicked the tip of his tongue repeatedly over the sensitive organ.
Suddenly Tammy was in the room.
"Come on, you guys," she pouted. "I'm so horny, and I like you both so much. Can't I get into bed with you?"
"I thought you have a date tonight?" Mark asked.
"I do, but I'd much rather be with you guys. I need some tenderness."
"You should have thought about that before you started playing games with my head," he said.
"I'm sorry," Tammy whined.
"It's too late to be sorry," Mark got off the bed and pushed Tammy out of the room. "You should have been sorry long ago. When I still cared about you. Now, get the fuck out of here. Go on your date. Roll in your million dollars, baby."
"I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!
"-likewise, sugar," he laughed, slamming and locking the bedroom door behind him.
"Now, what were we doing?"
"I think you were, sucking my pussy," Pinky said. "And it felt heavenly."
"Yes, that rings an erotic bell," he said, stroking his huge erection and getting back on the bed. "I think I will just have to suck on that red pussy of yours some more. It's my favorite meal."
"Oh, you are so nasty," she laughed. "I guess that's why I love you."
"Do you really?"
"Indeed I do," she laughed. "There's nothing quite like a romantic pervert."
"I guess that's me," he said, moving back between the young woman's thighs, and lifting her sweet firm ass up off the bed. Pressing his mouth against the orange-fur covered snatch, he took her clitoris in his mouth and sucked. His fingers toyed with her orifice, and moved along her anal opening.
"Oh, you turn me on so fully," she gushed. "I feel as though I'm going to come. And it will be such a nice orgasm."
"I hope you enjoy it," he smiled, and then returned to probing the depths of her pussy.
As the young lovely redhead began to climax, Mark pressed his tongue into her anal opening. She gasped with pleasure as her orgasm was made manifold.
She writhed and kicked with pleasure as his tongue reamed her behind, and moved in and out of the tight opening.
"Fuck me, Mark, please fuck me," she moaned. "Fill me with your magnificent cock."
"With pleasure," Mark smiled, moving in close between her luxuriant thighs, and pressing the tip of his hot member into the lubricated slit. She writhed with joy as the cock pressed deeper and deeper into her crack; she was beside herself with pleasure.
"I can't take it," she screamed. "This is too good to believe. What a fuck artist you are."
"It takes one to know one," he sighed, squeezing her firm young tits as his cock moved rapidly in and out of her hole.
"So many orgasms," she said, "you make me come like there was no tomorrow."
"There isn't," he laughed. "As far as I'm concerned, this is the end of the world."
"What do you mean?" she gasped.
"It's the end of the old world," he explained, "and the beginning of the new. Out with the old," he said, as he pulled his stick from her pussy, "and in with the new."
Mark rolled the young woman over on her belly, and spreading her long, shapely legs wide apart, prepared to take his pleasure in her ass-hole.
"Be gentle," Pinky asked. "I'm new to this."
"Of course I'll be gentle," he said. He helped Pinky into a knee-chest position, and spreading her sweet young ass globes apart, pressed the tip of his cock against her anus.
"Oh, I like the way that feels," she said, as the head of his cock pressed past the tight sphincter ring. "Oh, yea, fill me up, you bugger."
"With pleasure," he said, rubbing her breasts while his cock moved slowly into the hot depths of her rectum.
"This is what I call a great fuck," he laughed.
"I'll fuck to that." .
And they did.-
Pinky reached between her lush thighs, and frigged herself while the handsome young writer slowly pressed the entire length of his fuck stick into the depths of her bowel.
When he was all the way in to the hilt, he began slowly to move his entire nine inches back and forth, in and out. With each stroke, they both came closer and closer to orgasm.
"Never have I enjoyed sex so much," she moaned. "You make me realize how long I have been without pleasure."
"And you make me realize how important emotion is in love making," he said. "All that time with Tammy," he managed to speak, while lost in the excitement of plunging in and out of the woman's ass-hole, "I thought sex was simply sex. But now I know different. I know that it takes affection, and tenderness."
"Yes, yes, yes," Pinky moaned as she raced towards orgasmic completion.
"It takes love," he said, as he was about to spill his load deep into the woman's bowels.
"And more than that," she gasped, "it takes total surrender."
And then Mark groaned, a shudder of sexual joy racing down the length of his spine, and he unloaded his burden into the redhead's rectum.
She simultaneously shuddered with orgasm, and squeezed her ass-hole down tightly on his invading member as he slid slowly in and out of her behind.
"This is great," he groaned.
"It's better than great," she chimed in, "it's magnificent. It's the best sex of my life."
"Me, too."
And after Mark had emptied his load into the woman's behind, he pulled out of her, and collapsed beside her on the bed. "That was glorious," he said. "I feel as though our souls have touched."
"Me, "too."
"Do you think we have surrendered to each other?"
"I hope so," he said. "It's funny that it should happen so quickly with you. "All that time with Tammy I wanted her to surrender. I wanted her to love me. But it seemed that the more I wanted it, the farther away from me she moved."
"Isn't that like life?" Pinky said. "When we want something to happen, it never does. It seems only when we let things happen spontaneously does life come to our doorstep."
"You should be a poet," he said.
"I never really thought of myself as a creative person," Pinky said.
"Well, I can tell by the way you make love," he smiled, "that you are an extremely creative person."
"Thank you," she said, "but I think you are saying that only because you love me."
Mark looked at her incredulously, without being able to say a word.
"Can you tell just like that?"
"That you love me?" she asked.
"Yes."
"Of course," Pinky smiled. "A gal just knows those things."
"How?"
"Mostly by the way you make love with me."
"And how is that?"
"You care more about me than about yourself," she explained. "That makes a girl feel special. And that's how it should be."
"You know and I'm not saying this to make you jealous, or anything like that, but there was a time when I thought I made love to Tammy that way. There was a time when I thought I could never love anyone but her."
"And you probably meant it," Pinky said. "But Tammy is a spoiled little brat. Her values are all fucked up. I don't know if she'll ever, change. I don't know whether we change. Sometimes I get the feeling that we simply are the way we are, and that's it."
"It makes me sad about her, that's all."
"Well," Pinky smiled, caressing the young man's head, "you can still be friends with her. You've been a little cruel with her, don't you think?"
"And she deserved it."
"We always get what we deserve," Pinky said. "That's the rule of life. But sometimes we can be bigger than ourselves to help someone. Even if it hurts."
"And you think that I should be nice to Tammy?"
"It wouldn't kill you."
"After all the shit she's pulled on me."
"How you deal with her isn't going to upset me," Pinky said. "I'm going to love you anyway."
"Well, I'll think about it."
The months dragged on slowly for Mark Browning. He labored on the final draft of his novel, and was quite pleased with the results. He felt that he could sell the book, and would not have to rely on using his own capital to publish it himself. But even if that became necessary, he believed enough in the work to sell some bonds, or even his apartment, in order to break into print. He knew he had a winner on his hands.
Life at home worked smoothly. Pinky and Mark developed a very deep relationship. They had surrendered to each other fully. And while Tammy continued to live with them, the hostility between the blonde and the writer seemed to ebb.
Tammy was about to turn eighteen. To finally make peace with the young woman-at Pinky's prompting Mark decided to throw a surprise birthday party for her.
He had surprised the young woman by phoning her at work on the day of her birthday, and telling her that he wanted to meet her at work at five o'clock. She asked him why, and he said he simply wanted to straighten out a few things with her away from the house. ,-
She was shocked that he had called her, as their relationship had been stuck in a rut for quite some time. He even was nice to her on the phone. She wondered if it was because it was her birthday. She had mentioned her birth date to him several years earlier, but had forgotten. She didn't think that he knew. So she wondered why the hell he was being nice to her.
In many ways, she was afraid of confronting him on her eighteenth birthday. She was afraid that the moment of reckoning was at hand. The contract, which she figured still terrified the budding writer somewhat, was about to expire. She realized that her hold on him would be lost.
While Mark met her at the office, and took her down the street to a popular Seventh Avenue bar Jive Inn Pinky Pinkham was busy organizing the party. Tammy's fellow workers had already been invited, as well as mutual acquaintances. It wasn't a large group, but everyone was supposed to be at Mark's apartment by seven o'clock.
The plan was to surprise Tammy, and after some drinks, move over to the Cafe des Artistes, the young blonde's favorite restaurant.
After making small talk for an hour with the willful young blonde in the bar, they caught a cab back to the apartment.
'Why are you being so nice to me?" she asked-
"Maybe I would like to make-up with you," he said. "We've been together for a few years now. There were some good times, and there have definitely been some bad times. Now, I think we're adult enough to deal with some sort of relationship that isn't strictly love-hate."
"Is it because today is my eighteenth birthday that you are saying this?"
"Today! You're kidding?"
"No, I'm eighteen today," she smiled. "We've known each other for three years, Mark."
"It's truly amazing how times speeds past."
"Are you sure you didn't know."
"How the fuck could I know."
"I think I might have mentioned it to you once."
"You know I don't have any kind of memory."
"That's true."
"Well, maybe Pinky and I and you will go out for dinner, or to a nightclub or something. We should all be friends."
"Well, Mark, I've learned my lesson."
"Have you really?"
"Well, I don't think I'm ever going to change," she said. "Basically, you and I are different folk. You are much kinder deep down than I. I know I'm kind of a bitch, and my values aren't necessarily the best values, but they're the only values I have."
"I'm not perfect either," the writer said, as he paid the cabbie, and they started towards the apartment building. "Maybe we can be close again. But I want you to know, I really am in love with Pinky."
"I accept that," she said, "and I promise not to interfere with your relationship. You guys are really good for each other. But I do feel sort of left out. I like both of you. And as much as I hate to admit it, I miss the great sex I used to have with both of you."
"You mean all those millionaires you've been going out with aren't good lovers?"
"It's strange how it works," she said, as the elevator took them up to the apartment, "but all those guys are so busy making money working their asses off that they are terrible lovers. They're all tense, and weird. And most of them are impotent."
"Sorry to hear that," Mark said, as they approached the door of the apartment.
As he turned the key in the door and opened it, everyone inside yelled: "surprise!"
"Ah, shit," she screamed, and the room fell silent.
"Folks," Mark announced, "Tammy and I are going to be married." The blonde's mouth fell open. Everyone stared at the lovely young blonde incredulously, not believing that she was about ' to throw a fit at her own surprise birthday party. The fact that she was just turning eighteen had something to do with this, no doubt. But the roomful of older people mostly Seventh Avenue fashion types were not quite so understanding.
"Hey, Mark," one of the guests shouted, "is your youthful fianc‚ about to throw one of her tantrums?"
"Just because we gave her a surprise birthday party?" another voice chimed in.
"Excuse me," Mark Browning grabbed the willful young blonde, and pulled her down the hall, and into the bedroom.
"What the fuck are you trying to pull?" Mark screamed, the vein on his forehead protruding. "I went to all this trouble to invite the people you work with over for a special surprise party in your honor and instead of being pleased, you throw a fucking tantrum!"
"I don't like surprises," she said, standing her ground. "They make me perspire."
"What?"
"You heard what I said," Tammy said. "I'm so nervous now, I think I'm going to flip-out."
"But why?"
"Not only do you pull this surprise birthday party shit on me," she said, "but what's this about us getting married.? "
"That surprised me, too," Mark smiled. "It just came out."
"Well, did you mean it?"
"Yea, I guess I did," Mark mused. "Shit, I wouldn't have said it unless I meant it."
"But I thought you hated me?"
"I wanted to, really I did," Mark frowned. "We are as unlikely as a dog and a cat to fall in love and be married. You will probably hurt me consistently. . .
"Oh, Mark," she cried, "you do mean it? I have loved you, too. I'm so sorry for the way I've acted. I just never figured you really cared for me. I thought you were just using me for my youth and beauty."
"Jesus, you have quite an ego, don't you?"
"Well?"
"Hey,' what the hell is going on here?" Pinky came in the room.
"What do you mean?" Mark smiled.
"Well, I wasn't surprised about the party," the lovely redhead said; "I helped plan it. "But what's this about a marriage?"
"I didn't know either," Mark said. "It just came out of my mouth. You will marry me, won't you?" he turned to the blonde.
"Of course," she threw her arms around him. "This is the happiest day of my life."
"Mine, too," the writer smiled, with tears of joy running down his cheeks.
"What about me?" Pinky grew depressed. "I thought you loved me."
"I do," Mark said. "But more as a friend. This is the woman I love as a wife. I always have."
"But she will hurt you like before."
"No," Mark said. "I think we have an understanding now. I think we can be real friends. We've paid a lot of dues together. What do you think, Tammy?"
"I'm willing to give it a go," she said.
"And now, since you are eighteen," Mark said. "Tell me about the contract."
"What about it?" she asked.
"Well," he said, "I've looked all over the house for it for three years now, and I haven't found it. Where the fuck did you hide it?"
"I didn't."
"What?"
"You heard me," she said, "I didn't hide it."
"Then what did you do with it."
"I tore it up and flushed it down the toilet."
"Why?"
"I didn't really want to have such a thing in the house," she smiled, through tears of happiness. "I was afraid you wouldn't love me if I didn't have the contract. It was just a contract in our imaginations. Do you understand?"
"I think so," Mark said. "But now it's time to have a real contract."
"What do you mean?"
"A marriage license."
"Oh, Mark, you are so romantic and wonderful," she said.
"A romantic fool, if you ask me," Pinky said. "I'm getting my things and clearing out of this madhouse!"
"Don't go, Pinky," Tammy called after her.
"Let her go if she wants," Mark said. "There's only room fotwo in this honeymoon suite."
"Oh, Mark," she threw her arms around his neck. "I surrender to you. I will never be a bad girl again, I promise."
The room suddenly filled with applause, and the young couple looked up to see all the guests standing in the hall, and looking into the room.
"True love," someone said.
"Let's show them what true love is all about," Mark whispered to Tammy.
"Do you mean it?"
"Sure, why not?" he took her in his arms and kissed her deeply.
Simultaneously, they both rose and struggled free of their clothes. The party guests in the hall looked on in disbelief.
"This is the Big Apple, and everything goes," someone whispered to the stranger at her side, "but this is really going to far!"
Tammy and Mark were naked on the bed. His fingers moved gently through her flowing hair, and his lips moved from her warm,, succulent mouth, to her eye lids, her nostrils, her ears, and her throat.
Tammy arched her back, and moaned with pleasure as the writer's hands moved over her breasts. The tawny nipples stood erect. And when Mark took them in his mouth, gently stroking them with the tip of his tongue, she was in seventh heaven.
So was Mark.
And so were the the perspiring guests-huddled together in the hall, panting, and feeling hot blood pump through their veins as they witnessed the romantic debauchery.
The men in the crowd, for the most part, had slipped their hands into their pockets, and were toying with themselves. The women were pressing their thighs together, feeling the hot juices of sexual expectation trickle from their love pit.
Mark was atop the lovely young woman, preparing to. slide his love stick deep into her treasure box. They were oblivious to the crowd that hovered about them.
As Mark's cock slid slowly into the well lubricated passion pit, Tammy wrapped her legs around her man's back, and pulled him deeply inside of her.
As they pumped each other passionately, the group of gawkers became increasingly aware of their own frustrations their inability to be sexually spontaneous.
Suddenly someone grabbed someone's breast. And lips met. Legs rubbed against each other.
A wave of sexual heat poured from the corridor into the bedroom. One by one, and in pairs, the guests removed their clothes and pressed through the door into the bedroom.
Soon the bed was covered with naked men and women. Women were sucking each other's pussies, and caressing each other's breasts, and men were fucking women.
There were tongues sinking into vaginas, wrapping around erect penises, and sinking into anuses. It was a hot little sex party.
The moans rose in volume until the room was filled with a constant moan, akin to the roaring of wild animals in the jungle.
When the orgasms began, the noise grew in intensity. It was like the buzzing of locusts, or an army of bees in search of pollen-filled flower blossoms.
The noise rose, as the bed shook, and the shelves on the wall vibrated. For a time, it seemed as though the bed would rise right up off the floor.
And the thumping went on.
Most of the couples had by now switched, and new men were joined with new women.
Sighs and moans echoed louder and louder.
It was like the song of gods.
Or the screams of sirens.
It would have been vexatious to the spirit of a moral man.
"We've really started something here," Mark whispered to Tammy as his cock plunged in and out of her.
"It's like a group wedding," the young woman panted, as her pussy opened and closed on the invading cock.
And then Mark cried out with satisfaction, and shot hot jism deep into his future wife's pussy.
She simultaneously gave up her orgasm, and her legs spasmed with electric shock jolts of sexual intensity, as every nerve ending in her body buzzed, and glowed, telegraphing messages throughout her being saying, as it were: "I come."
While Mark and Tammy luxuriated in the loveliness of sexual oblivion, holding each other tightly, as their genitals still pulsated with emotion, the other couples on the bed continued to have a go at each other. The scene was completely out of hand. "This is quite a way to start off a marriage," Tammy smiled.
"Oh, it will get better with time," he laughed. "You know, I had no idea that our friends were so perverse."
"It takes one to know one," Tammy said.