Chapter 10
Lucy let him in, wordlessly.
"Well?" he said. "How soon will she arrive?"
"She's not coming."
"Why?"
"I didn't call her."
"Call her now."
"No."
"You'll regret this."
"Not as much as I will if I call her."
"You think not, eh?"
"I'm sure not."
"I might get violent."
"I might stab you through the heart with my knitting needle."
"You'd never be able to dispose of my body."
"I'd call Samantha."
"I'd just pretend dead," he said. "Then I would watch."
She laughed. "You'd stop at nothing."
"I won't stop until you call her."
"We'll see," she said, sitting on the couch. "Sit down if you like."
He sat in the easy chair, across her narrow living room from her. After a minute's silence, he said, "Tell me about your girlhood."
"Je-sus," she said. "Why on earth?"
"I have all evening," he said. "There are things I would rather be doing," she said. "If you must know."
"Eating Samantha?"
She grimaced and looked up at the ceiling. Both were silent, pointedly silent, and after three or four minutes she said, "You're a bore, Wedge."
"Well, I mustn't be a bore, must I? Stand up and take off your underpants."
"You think that'll interest me?" she asked, but she did so, dropping them on the floor.
"Now unzip your dress," he said, watching her. "Yes, take your arms out of the sleeves. Now take off your brassiere ..." He gave her step-by-step instructions until her breasts and cunt were exposed as she sat spread-eagled on the edge of the couch.
"You find this more interesting?" she asked.
"No, I'm bored," he said, yawning as if to prove it, "we're doing this to interest you."
"You ass!" she said, becoming riled.
"Exposing herself to a man should give a woman pleasure," he said. "You probably need practice."
"Well, it doesn't!" she said, almost screaming. "I'm bored to tears." She did look on the verge of tears.
"Call Samantha."
"No."
Motioning her to stay put, Wedge got up and went into her kitchen. A moment later he was back carrying a broom. He pointed the handle across the coffee table toward her.
"You expect me to stick that in my vagina?" she asked, incredulous.
"Unless you'd rather stick it up your ass," he said.
"You're a puerile creep," she said, meaning it.
"Call Samantha," he said.
Without bothering to say no, Lucy reached out, touched the end of the handle, finding it wet and cold to the touch. Frowning, she drew it toward her pussy, reaching down to spread her folds until she had it centered and then, grimacing, she slowly drew it in until maybe eight inches of the broom handle had gone into her snatch.
"Don't hurt me," she said. "That's all the farther it will go."
Casually, he reached out and twiddled his end of the broom, the other end spinning in her cunt. She closed her eyes and bit a knuckle.
When he stopped, she looked up and said, "This is pretty goddamn silly, you know it? I've never felt sillier in my life!"
"You've probably never looked sillier," he said.
Lucy felt positively eerie-that disturbing feeling again. It was eerie to sit around with your dress bunched around your middle and a broomstick up yourself. It was the most ludicrous thing she'd ever heard of. And look at him, just sitting there and watching her-why, he wasn't even doing that very intently.
"Fuck yourself with it," he said.
"No!"
"Call Samantha."
Wordlessly, she reached down and touched the broom handle with both hands as it lay across the coffee table. Slowly, she withdrew it from her pussy and, just as slowly, inserted it. She shut her eyes again, not to have to look at him as she fucked herself. Presently he noted that her wrinkled inner lips, which encircled the surrogate member, had become puffier and deeper in color, and that her clitoris had erected. She moved the stick more rapidly, working it around in her pussy with ease.
RINGG! RinGG! They looked at each other, startled. Lucy disengaged herself from the broom and leaned to her side to reach for the phone, which was on an end table.
"Hello ... Oh, SAMANTHA, hi! How are you?"
Wedge moved over beside her where she lay bent and on her side on the couch. Insurance, he thought, taking out insurance. He lifted her upper leg and bent it back. She tried to hold his head away, but he succeeded in applying his mouth to her pussy which was hot and fully juiced with her own lubricant. He tongued madly while Lucy spoke breathlessly into the phone, "No nothing. I was just sitting around half naked thinking about you, that's all. . . . No, I didn't have the nerve to call-you seemed too mad at me. ... Of course I'd like that. I can't wait. . . . Good. . . . How long? Twenty minutes? . . . Okay, bye-bye, Puss."
"Wedge?" she said, looking down at him. His face still buried in her snatch, he winked, then shoved her legs farther back and slithered his tongue more tightly across her clit and into her goodie. She moaned, began to squirm, gasped, and after a moment said, "If you do that any more, there won't be anything left for Samantha."
He tongued her, as it were, sitting up.
"That shows years of practice," she said.
"Some pussies beg to be eaten," he said. "Yours is one."
"Feel free," she said.
"When you're good," he said.
"I knew there'd be a catch," she said. She sat up and pulled her dress off over her head.
"We have twenty minutes," he said. "Tell me about your girlhood."
"Why do you keep asking me about my girlhood?"
"I might have a daughter someday."
"So?"
"So I'd want her to grow up and be like you." She laughed, almost raucously. "Why," she finally managed to say, "so she could grow up and be tormented half out of her wits by some creepy sex-fiend?"
"When a daughter of mine would reach your age," he said, "society will be different. Women will have most of what they want, and consequently will not be so antagonistic to men. As a result, she would not have so many lessons to learn the hard way."
"Like me?"
"Yes."
"You're nuts. But maybe I will tell you about my girlhood sometime. Right now, I have to get ready for Samantha. Get rid of that goddamn broom, and I'll hide you in the closet."
Wedge waited in the closet in the bedroom for what seemed an incredible length of time. First he heard voices in the living room, and then they came into the bedroom. Lucy was in the midst of telling Samantha that no mere man could ever replace her and that it was silly to get upset about it. He thought he heard them undressing, and then all was quiet. He became impatient, wondering what he was missing. But a signal had been arranged and, not wanting to blow Lucy's scene, he waited for it. Lucy had said that Samantha went into a near trance when she was being eaten, and that it would be safe to look out then.
"Nothing's nicer than having my tongue up your pussy," he heard: that was the signal. Taking a deep breath he quietly opened the door and peered out.
At first the good professor, taking too much in all at once, had difficulty telling who was on whom, since, hair flying and grunting through their noses, they were a tangle of arms and legs. He opened the door a little wider and saw that it was Lucy who was on Samantha. She had Samantha's red-crested snatch spread wide with her thumbs, gobbling lasciviously at the pink delicacies at its center, slurping as she lapped up every drop of fluid that poured from her cunt, all the while keeping the girl's legs well-pinned with her arms. Samantha had her arms around Lucy's upthrust hips, hanging on tightly, since they were high in the air and waggling, her knees two feet apart on the bedspread and her back flopping in involuntary humping motions as Samantha ate at her, her jaws parted wide to cover her whole pussy, nose smack against her anus.
Lucy kept inching her knees back, seeming to want a firmer bite on Samantha's sopping snatch, her breasts dangling and parted slightly by the girl's slender waist. Samantha clung to Lucy's hips for dear life, her face positively buried in the woman's crotch: slowly, they seemed to inch across the bed.
Both maddened girls murmured lustily and gurgled deep in their throats, their tongues working to touch each other at the quick of their beings, each assaying to obtain the perfect impossible response from the center of the other and, from all appearances, succeeding. Lucy alternately probed Samantha's passion pit, licking her cunt-mouth clean with an unbelievably outstretched tongue, then backing off to suck slurpingly at her puffed labia and clitoris, possibly backing off and keeping her so well spread for Wedge's benefit; while Samantha hung onto Lucy's waggling hips for dear life and engulfed her cunt in a long sucking bite, never letting up.
Wedge swore he had never seen an expression of such raw lust. He stepped out of the closet and closer to the bed, moving silently in stockinged feet.
He peered down to watch the soft underside of Lucy's tongue swish over Samantha's clitoris, then the breadth of her tongue disappear amongst vaginal folds, her hands bearing down on Samantha's legs as if to split her in two. Samantha's body convulsed. Jerking spasmodically as her spine went haywire and her pussy began to contract, Samantha threw her head to belch "Aiiieeggghh!" before clamping her mouth onto Lucy's pulsing pussy with a deep intake of breath: she began whipping her head from side-to-side as if trying to suck Lucy inside out.
With reluctance, Wedge backed into the closet, peering again through the crack in the door as. Lucy cried "Oooof! Arghhh! Yeow!" and whipped her back, tightly held though she was, lifting first one buttock and then the other as she rolled from side-to-side, nipples rubbing the bedspread now as she seemed to want nothing more than to shake Samantha off. But she spread her legs to their utmost and then reared up. Samantha's head was pressed into the mattress as she continued to gobble at Lucy's now-twitching twat. Lucy's partially reared torso shuddered, her breasts flapping wildly back and forth as she screamed, "That's it! That's it! That's it! I'm ... I'm .. . I've . . ." and then collapsed, her glistening body sagging visibly as she rolled to the side. Wedge had shut the door, and didn't see her topple over. And as she fell to the side, a half-conscious Lucy noted somewhere in the back of her mind, with a certain relief, that the closet door was closed.
What prompted Samantha, then? Had Lucy been so nice to her that she aroused suspicion, in addition? What prompted her when she'd recovered from the aftershock of her own orgasm, and lay idly scratching her left tit, to suddenly look at the closet door? There was no noise from the closet. Had she been less involved than she appeared when her tongue probed the folds of Lucy's cunt? Did she have ESP? or did she simply have a nose for a man?
When she thought back on it, Lucy could not get over the uncanny peculiarity of it, the way Samantha had stood and marched right to the closet and opened the door, just like that.
"I smelled a pig!" she screamed, and in that half-minute before she began flailing at Wedge, she turned to her friend and said, "See what happens? See! Let a pig put it to you and your morals are subverted, you pervert love just to satisfy pig fantasies!"
And then everything became a nightmare, with Samantha flailing blindly as she screamed one thing after another at the both of them, her hands too quick, her step too spry, for Wedge to quell her ... he grabbed for her hand every time she walloped his gullet, every time she slapped his nose, until he finally lunged for her, half-tackling her and falling on top of her as she continued to pommel him with her fists.
"Come here!" Wedge barked. "She's already knocked some of my teeth loose! Hold her fucking hands!"
With him pushing at her flailing arms and with Lucy pulling at them the two of them managed to pin her down, to draw her arms back over her head, whereupon Lucy pinioned them with her knees, her full weight barely enough to keep the adrenalin-struck girl down. She continued to scream at the both of them. ". . . and got me over here on a ruse just to satisfy chauvinist fantasies. You, Lucretia Slade, are a traitor to the movement! May we never mention your name again! May you drop dead if you ever so much as think Women's Lib! May you . . ."
"Honey, honey, sweetheart," Lucy crooned. "That's not so! None of it! I told you the truth over the phone! Wedge came by after you'd phoned, and I couldn't get him to leave; he didn't believe you were coming until you knocked."
"That's right," Wedge said. "She sent me out the back door and I ducked in here instead, she didn't even know I was here."
"You're lying, both of you!" she said, spitting in Wedge's face and managing to gouge a fingernail into Lucy's calf. Lucy's leg jerked in reflex and again it took the both of them to pin her arm.
"Honey, honey-it wouldn't matter even if I had known. We've agreed to do it in public someday."
"With the sisters! Not the MCP's!"
"With all our supporters, everyone who supports the movement!" Lucy cried.
"Him?"
"Sure, he supports us. He wants me to have tenure."
"So that's why you're bedding him, you're putting out so he'll vote for your tenure? You traitor! You think we need that!" At this, the tearful, breathless girl began squirming again, wiggling her arms.
"What'll we do with her?" Wedge asked.
"I don't know," Lucy said.
Their eyes met, and each recognized in the other a fear of hysteria, a knowledge that there is no rational means of dealing with a fit of hysteria.
"Should I put it to her?" he asked.
It was evident to Lucy that Samantha's squirming beneath the man had aroused him, had kept him aroused, whatever. She shrugged, "If you do, you'd better do a good job of it."
Wedge lay with his belly on top her groin -that was his only way to hold her down and his legs happened to be between hers. Even so, it was only with utmost difficulty that he managed to free his bursting pecker from his fly and position in the vicinity of her cunt, and if her pussy hadn't been all spread out and highly moistened from its recent state of excitement, he would never have entered her. He jabbed four or five times before he lodged his glans in her vagina's entrance, and then, since she was so unused and so tight, further entry was an almost painful, snail's-pace endeavor. He widened her slick channel increment by increment, actually helped now by her squirming as she hollered, "No! No! No!"
"She'll squeeze me to death!" Wedge said, beginning to think that the prospect of bludgeoning his way into her gushing if tight delicacy was an impossible one.
"Stop him!" Samantha cried, having thoughts similar to Wedge's. "He'll rupture me!"
Wedge saw her irises dilate and the next thing he knew she went rigid with fright.
"Maybe ..." Lucy said.
But the man gave an insistent, groaning lunge, and entered her to the hilt with a smack-her mouth went open as if to scream, but her tongue worked in voiceless terror. Jesus but she's a stiff cunt, Wedge thought. He gritted his teeth and decided he had to loosen her up in a hurry . . . when he pulled out he was for a moment afraid he'd pulled her inside-out, her cuntal lining clung to him so tightly, but he banged into her and then banged into her again, giving her several rapid, sharp thrusts; she opened her mouth wider with each one until it finally snapped shut and she bit her tongue.
Able to move with a bit more ease, Wedge took several deep breaths and began to work on her, his movements fluid and easy.
"She likes having her titties sucked," Lucy said. "Maybe you'd better do that. Bite them just a little."
Wedge complied, sucking her handful of flesh on her skinny ribcage almost entirely into his mouth, sucking as her nipple stiffened on the back of his tongue, then nipping at her, Lucy bent and rubbed her own tits onto Samantha's face, her erect nipples rubbing on her eyelids.
Samantha's benumbed twat was beginning to tingle-like having your foot wake up after going to sleep, she thought, no more-but before she would admit it to herself she had begun to find the man's lunges into her stretched vagina half-pleasurable. She tried to shut out the sensation of being filled, plugged, as the massive cock slowly churned her cunt to a lather, but she knew from the start she couldn't shut out his mouthing her breasts-she found it arousing.
Wedge speeded up a bit, his balls beating out a tattoo on her anus. Her cunt felt like a tight rubber washer rolling up and down the length of his prick-a basically slippery ring though, and his cock probed the folded now-quaking delights within her. Samantha quivered, her belly and leg muscles spasming as her pelvis reared up off the floor, reared mightily, lifting his weight more than a foot off the floor, a move the suddenness of which surprised both him and Lucy. They looked at each other, eye-to-eye and in mutual recognition that this was having an effect on the girl.
Each time Wedge arched higher to withdraw a bit, Samantha strained higher to impale herself on his shaft. He held it still, his hips high, and she touched the floor only with her head and shoulders as she slid the tight cunt up and down the length of his cock. Her lips worked as if trying to speak. Her body had been set aflame by this white hot poker. The lining in her skull also burned and her mouth was dry. She knew if she didn't explode soon, she would die.
Lucy now reached with both hands to massage the girl's breasts, squeezing the soft hand-fuls and holding them steady on her ribcage in order to focus on her nipples, rubbing them madly with fingertips, rolling and flicking the sensitized rosebuds without let-up.
Samantha had been moving her pussy around on Wedge's pecker with relative slowness, but she took a deep breath and then another before, with her last ounces of energy, she began rotating her pussy upwards on the impaling shaft with maddened fury, gurgling, "Oh . . . oh . . . yass . . . yass . . . fuck!"
Sensing that this was time, Wedge ram-rodded into her overheated cunt, rotating his hips down on her wide-open groin as he felt the whole throbbing quivering sheath of her cunt go taut again-when he banged, banged, banged, wanting to knock her loose.
He did.
Screaming, "Aiiiiiieeeee!" with her last held-in breath just as he gasped, "Ah, aghhh!" Samantha shuddered convulsively from head to toe as she came, bloated with the spasmodic explosions of Wedge's cock, spurt upon spurt of sperm boiling into her and filling her womb. The shuddering girl somehow managed to hold her convulsing pussy aloft until the last drop of gism had been fired into her before she collapsed. Wedge fell on her in a sweaty heap.
He pulled his half-dwindled pecker out of her lathered channel with a whoosh and rose to his knees. With her head, Lucy motioned him into the other room, and they left the panting, half-conscious girl on the floor.
"Christ," Wedge said, "I'm bruised all over."
"Ah, maybe you deserved it," she said.
"Do you think that did any good?"
"Oh, she had a whale of a climax, but she may resent it."
"What?"
"Me. You. Us. It."
"Mmm. Well do you think you can handle her now?"
"I think it would be better if you left, yes," she said.
"Do you want the number of the insane asylum?"
"That is not appreciated," she said. "She had every right to be traumatized."
"Okay," he said. "Friday morning."
"Jesus," she said. "You'll never forget, will you?"
With Wedge gone, Lucy went back into the bedroom and knelt over the semi-comatose girl. She considered smelling salts or gin, and rejected both. There was no permanent harm, and she needed a few minutes rest herself. Twenty minutes, she took, and then knelt over the girl again. She pulled open an eyelid. The eye stared back. And then Lucy didn't know what hit her.
Samantha yanked her hair, pulling her to the floor with such force that her head bounced. She blanked out for maybe ten seconds and when she came to was utterly out of breath, having been kneed in the solar plexus. She was on her back and aware that Sam was twisting her breast, twisting it around with both hands until it felt like it had turned a full circle on her rib-cage and, struggling for breath, she knew she had to rouse herself, defend herself. She kept telling herself to act as Sam dug five fingers of her one hand harshly into the twisted breast and then lowered her head and began biting. She nipped with her eyeteeth, one little nip of flesh at a time, leaving a blood-blister. She nipped four times, five times in rapid succession as Lucy screamed, and then her teeth reached the areola and the pain was so intense that Lucy was roused to action, winded or no, grabbing Sam's hair and pulling. She pulled with all her might and couldn't budge the little demon. Another nip on her areola.
Pure anguish.
Her hand found the kneeling girl's cunt. Two fingers jammed in, twisted. No effect. Had she been fucked insensible? Just as Sam's wicked eyeteeth reached the tender tip of Lucy's nipple--god, would she bite it off?--Lucy jerked her fingers from her sopping twat and rammed them brutally home just behind, entering her anus to the hilt with one vicious thrust and gouging, scratching her rectal walls with her nails.
"Oyiiii!" Sam screamed, her body shooting forward across Lucy's, and continued to scream, "Oyiii! Oyiii!" as Lucy maintained her bugger-hold and slid her own body out from beneath Sam's, whereupon she planted her knee in the middle of the girl's back and continued to gouge, saying, "Give up? Give up?" as the girl writhed on the floor, face down and rubbing raw her knees and tummy and breasts.
"Yes! Yes!" she finally managed to blurt. "I give up!"
"Christ!" Lucy said, inspecting the five finger-bruises and twice as many little spots blistered red on her mauled throbbing breast.
"Shit!" Sam cried, clutching her crotch and rubbing her anus daintily with her fingertips.
"That's what I have on my fingers," Lucy said, flinging it at her.
Sam left without another word. She called the next day to say, to reiterate that she had never in her life experienced such unfathomable perfidy as Lucy had displayed, that Lucy had betrayed the cause and was not worthy of the support of the Women's Caucus.
Fine, Lucy had said, just shut up. And she hung up the phone.
Samantha called back to say not to worry, that she would shut up, that the movement needed its symbols, its successful women, and that she was sure Lucy's example would give courage to others as long as they did not know to what depths she had sunk; so she would let that remain their little secret, would mention it to no one.
Lucy was immeasurably sad; this made her ultimately sadder than anything that happened with Wedge. The women's movement might die of rifts from within, because of the blindness of their own militancy. Didn't any of them see this? Didn't they? It was the saddest thing she could think of.