Chapter 4

The two women had such an aura of feminine placidity and calm that Lew doubted any man could crack it. They looked so smugly self-possessed that knowing he was going to have to make an attempt he broke into a cold sweat a moment after they breezed in the door. Miss Slade acknowledged her cursory introduction to him with a minimal raising of an eyebrow-and Samantha, with not so much as that-then proceeded to talk to Professor Greenwald, while Samantha spoke to one of the wives, and Lew knew that his assignment for the night was an impossible one.

He watched her out of the corner of his eye -beginning any student's preliminary study of the subject at hand-and when she leaned back to listen to something Samantha had to say to her she was slightly off-balance and for a full thirty seconds she presented Lew a clear view of the insides of her thighs. He saw that her skin was smoothly silken from her kneecaps to the silk of her panties, which tightly covered her pouting mound. And when Samantha had finished whispering her secret, Lucy righted herself; when she closed her legs, the fleshy parts of her thighs closing on each other with that movement, Lew became acutely aware of just how soft, how pliantly soft her flesh was.

This sudden realization of her desirability unnerved him all the more. To approach destruction out of duty or obligation was one thing (and, desiring self-preservation, one was able to watch one's opportunity to exit), but to approach destruction out of compulsion or desire was a completely different matter, because obsession blinds one to one's naturally occurring escapes. Having watched the woman for no more than ten minutes, a jittery Lew set his bourbon and soda on the floor by his chair, wiped his sweaty palms on his pant legs, and, while Wedge had his back to him, crept into the kitchen, making a beeline for the back door.

Ellen Wedge stood at the counter, arranging crackers on a tray. At the sight of the woman, Lew remembered her husband's implied threat: "Ellen would be hurt if she thought you hadn't appreciated her." On impulse, not wanting there to be any misunderstanding, Lew grasped the woman by the shoulders from behind.

Feeling the tension in the hands which grabbed her but not knowing whose hands they were, Ellen's head whipped around, fright in her eyes until she saw the wrought-up lad who was, after a fashion, her lover.

"Ellen," he said, lips trembling, "I just wanted you to know that you're a fine woman. You're the finest fuck I ever had . .

"Shh!" she hushed him, for his voice was a little loud and she feared it would carry into the living room.

". . . and I'll always be grateful for it," he continued, his voice only somewhat better modulated. "You have no idea how much it meant to me, and how much it will always mean to me."

"That's sweet, Lew," she said, smiling at the youth and genuinely touched by him. She was well aware that he was fond of her and that he had enjoyed putting it to her the night before, but she had no idea until that moment that there was any possibility he might fall in love with her, that his emotions for her might run out of control. She turned to caress his cheek. Compulsively, his hands went to her breasts and he gripped them tightly.

They jumped apart, startled when the kitchen door swung open behind them, and both were relieved that the person to catch them in their embrace was the lady's husband.

"Now, now," Wedge said. "I'm glad you two have taken a shine to each other, but this is neither the time nor the place . . ."

"We know," Ellen said.

"I have to go now, and I was just saying goodbye," Lew said, abruptly turning to the kitchen door and opening it.

Ellen thought it was odd that Lew should have to leave so early and was about to urge him to reconsider as he stood in the doorway, holding the door open with one hand as he casually waved so long with his other, but at that moment his eyes locked for a silent still moment with her husband's and the next thing she knew Lew had lit out the door like lightning with her husband right on his tail. She thought it was even more peculiar a moment later when she finally managed to focus her eyes in the semi-darkness of their backyard to see her husband pulling on Lew's earlobe as he spoke slowly and steadily. She couldn't make out what he said, but plainly heard Lew wail, "No! I don't want to!"

Her husband continued to speak to the lad, pulling continuously on the youth's earlobe so that his head bent closer and closer to the ground. They must have reached some sort of agreement or something because pretty soon her husband let go of Lew and patted him on the back. They stood out there in the dark a few minutes longer, talking quietly and then came back in, trooping through the kitchen without either of them giving her a glance, which struck her as the strangest thing of all.

With Lew standing just behind him, Wedge appraised the situation among his guests-who numbered maybe ten in all-wondering how to engineer a tete a tete betwixt Lew and Miss Slade, when Greenwald stood up, excused himself, and headed for the bathroom. Wedge moved in, with Lew right behind him, saying, "Lucy, I want you to meet Lew. He's a bit young for a senior but he thinks he wants to go to Yale next year and I thought you might not mind telling him about the graduate program there."

"Sure," she said, giving him an appraising look. "How young are you, anyway?"

Lew blushed slightly, thinking this was all a bunch of crap, and said, "Uh, nineteen."

She gave the reddening youth and his curly eyelashes another curious once-over and said, "Hmm, when did you start?"

"Here? Three years ago."

"Hmm," she said, pursing her lips. "Well, you might make it at Yale. It's an intensely competitive place . . ."

Wedge picked up her drink and refreshed it, going quite heavy on the gin, and brought Lew another bourbon. And when he left them a second time, Lucy was saying, "Of course, some of these problems you won't have, not being a woman."

"Why?" Lew said. "Are they prejudiced against women there? I don't know if I'd want to go any place where they're prejudiced against women."

Ah! Wedge thought, knowing Lew would come through in the clinch, and he left them again just as Lucy said, "Where have you been? Of course they're prejudiced against women! I don't think you could find a school -outside of those exclusively for women-where they aren't . . ."

His spirits rising, Wedge hosted, refilling drinks, pausing here and there to exchange a few comments with his other guests, so effervescent and attentive that none of them suspected that they were all of secondary interest to him. He kept a careful eye on the would-be twosome. He wanted to give them enough of a chance to chat to spark Lucy's interest, but not enough of a chance to blow Lew's cover. All they needed now was for Hoskins to walk over and ask Lew about his damned dissertation.

Things seemed to be going well, though. Both were bending their heads and talking in low tones. When Samantha freed herself from Mrs. Hoskins and moved over to give her attention to the duo, undoubtedly hoping to put a damper on things, Wedge saw that it was time to make their move.

Approaching her from the far side, Wedge said, "Samantha, guess what I have?"

"What?" she asked, mildly annoyed at being interrupted by him.

"A first edition of an Aphra Behn," he said, beaming broadly.

"My god!" Samantha exclaimed. "What?"

"The Rover Boys. Would you like to come see it?"

"Sure. You have it here?"

He winked at Lew as the girl followed him away, up to his study. He'd had no doubts that a first edition Aphra Behn would be enough of a lure to drag her away. Not only was she intending to do her own dissertation of Aphra, but Aphra was the first woman ever to earn her living by writing. Naturally, she was something of a landmark, or heroine, to women in the movement who knew about her. Wedge had possessed the volume for years.

"It's awfully smoky in here," Lew said. "I think I'd like to step out for a breath of fresh air. How about you?"

It had become quite smoky in part because Wedge had left three cigars burning in ashtrays at different points near them.

"Yeah, I think so too," she said.

Lew had seen Ellen go back into the kitchen, and so he took Lucy out the front door. They stood on the front porch for a few minutes as they talked. Lew began edging toward the side of the house, with Lucy ambling slowly along beside him.

"Hey, there's a light on in Wedge's basement," he said. And then, giving her a shyly conspiratorial look, "Shall we go investigate?"

"Investigate Wedge's basement. What in the world do you think we'll find?"

"I don't know. Come on," he said as he led her around to the entrance at the side of the house. "Anyway, the thing I don't understand about Women's Lib is why you hate men so much."

"I wouldn't say we hate men," she said.

"Well, you sure fake it convincingly."

"Umm, don't you think women have a lot of reason to be bitter about the way men use them?"

"I guess. But I don't think all women get used."

"There're a few lucky ones. That's not the point. The point is that the time has come to alter consciousness. We have to change the way women look at themselves as well as the way men look at them."

"In what ways?"

"Oh, sexually and otherwise. Women simply will not stand to be exploited any longer."

"I guess I can see that, and I agree with it. But why be bitter about all men?" he asked, all sweetness and innocence.

"Oh, we're not. We're not," she said, blithely, frowning in a preoccupied manner as she stepped down into the basement and Lew closed the door behind her.

"So you're not against sex?" he asked.

"Of course not," she said, refusing to look directly at him, rubbing her fingertip in the dust atop a cabinet in which the Wedges stored who knew (who cared?) what, then inspecting her finger closely as she rubbed the dust from it.

Had the moment come? Lew was by habit a bit more subtle when he made a pass at someone, and his subtlety almost always paid handsome rewards, but Wedge had said make an awkward grab, and to do it at the first opportunity, and Lew knew that he would be miles from this basement and this woman were it not for Wedge's coercion. In silhouette, with the light behind her, her body had an undeniable shapeliness, her bosom a fullness and jut that was suddenly perplexing.

Lucy was aware that the nervous youth beside her seemed unduly agitated and his expression of interest in her sex life had not passed unnoticed. Thus, that he had intentions toward hardly qualified as a surprise. His method of expressing himself, however, startled her to the core and for a split second scared her witless.

Moving with the suddenness but without the finesse of a practitioner of karate, at once he kissed her, squeezed her right breast with one hand and clutched her left buttock with his other. The kiss was understandably off-center, his lips catching only a portion of hers and her nostril. Her breast met his finest expectations, its softness spongy to the squeeze, springing back at his fingers; her nipple had begun to extend itself in his palm before she managed to pry his hand away, using both of hers to do so. Only then, albeit out of breath, could she concentrate on freeing her buttock, her plump hind cheek, from his healthy grasp. He had delighted in the way she had clenched-unclenched the trembling globe in his hand-his fingertips extended into the crack between prodding her to new paroxysms of squirming. She now pushed at his hand, batted at his wrist just as his fingers shot around under to press into the juncture of her thighs.

She took a deep breath and yelped, "Don't!" and her voice rising, yelled, "Stop it! Get out of there!"

He unhanded her and backed away.

"You pig! Damn you!" she said, almost spitting.

"I ... I ... I ..." he stammered, looking down at the floor as if in shame and rubbing his hands together as if they'd been slapped. But he sensed that he did not have her attention and so for the moment he made no further attempt to speak. Instead, he held his pose while she straightened and flexed herself in that half-minute it took for her to ascertain she'd suffered no real harm, and by the time she looked up at him he'd begun to fear that he'd overdone it.

"Christ," she said. "You deserve a swift kick in the balls for that!"

"I ... I ... I ..." he began, stammering somewhat more convincingly now, "I couldn't help it. I . . . I . . . didn't know what to do. I . . . I . . ."

"Well, you picked a pretty stupid thing to do."

"I ... I didn't know," he said. "I've never had any experience before! I've never touched a woman before!" Here he buried his face in his hands as if on the verge of sobbing. "I've never known how you're supposed to tu-touch a woman!"

"Don't lie to me," she said, coldly. "There aren't any virgins at nineteen anymore."

After a moment, he lowered his hands and, biting his lower lip, said, weakly, "I'm not lying."

"Even so," she said, not conceding the point but wanting to make one of her own, "you should know better than to attack a woman, especially a feminist."

"I . . . I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean you any harm. Really! I just couldn't help it."

"Bah!"

"No," he said, taking a deep breath, "you see -only intelligent women appeal to me. It's always been that way, girls my own age have always been so frivolous, they've never appealed to me. You're one of the few intelligent women I've ever met, and . . . and, well, you're beautiful and here I was alone with you and I really couldn't help myself."

Lucy couldn't help smiling to herself in amusement and it occurred to her that he just might be telling the truth. He did seem like a bright, studious sort of kid. And she had never been grabbed quite so awkwardly in her life. "Well," she said, "next time you get the impulse to kiss a woman, an intelligent one, make sure she's in the mood. And if you can't tell, ask her if you can kiss her."

"Oh," he said, looking down at his feet. "Well, can I kiss you?"

"I didn't mean me," she said, "and I didn't mean now."

"Well," he said, smiling abashedly, "you're the one I want to kiss and I want to do it now."

"You have no right!" she said. "After the way you mauled me ..."

"Oh, I know," he said earnestly, "but I won't be able to sleep if you're still mad at me."

"You don't deserve to sleep," she said. "You won't blackmail me that way."

"Well, how can I blackmail you," he asked, mock-plaintively.

She giggled. "You can't."

He bent forward, his lips puckered in an exaggerated fashion as he bore cautiously down on her. At the last minute she tilted her head and kissed him, smack, and then turned her head away.

"Again," he said.

"No way."

"My pillow can kiss better than that."

"So kiss your pillow."

His hand on her cheek he held her against retreat and this time she did not break away. Her Lips were soft and warm, then became softer, parting when he probed with his tongue. She formed a cushion for his tongue with the underside of hers, and after a wildly wilting moment, she gave him an active swish with her tongue and broke off the kiss.

"That was a real kiss," he said.

"Yes, that was your kiss," she said, half-smiling through pursed lips.

"Can I touch your breast?" he asked.

"No," she said, definitely, yet coloring slightly, against her will.

He touched her anyway, tentatively, rubbing the end of it through her dress in a circular motion with the tips of his first three fingers. When her nipple stiffened he rolled it gently between his thumb and forefinger-obedient to touch, it stiffened further.

"Well," she said, "for a virgin you sure know what turns a lady on."

"I know what turns me on," he said. "And I hope it turns the lady on, too."

"We can't do anything about it here, however," she said, but no sooner had she finished her sentence than Lew had hooked his thumbs into the elastic of her neckline and stretched it down as far as it would stretch: she looked down at herself to see her tits quivering nakedly with each breath she took.

"My gosh!" he said, looking at them with wide eyes, her stunningly erect nipples looming pinkly at him. "Can I kiss them?"

She giggled, "Honestly, you don't have to ask me quite everything!"

He stooped, shoving her breasts up from beneath with his palms, and feverishly mouthed her nipples, affixing his lips slurpily to one, then to the other before rubbing those pointing bits of flesh on his eyelids, pressing them to his cheeks, his ears, squeezing and plucking, grinning as they sprang and bounced.

Lucy gasped, thinking, honestly! No one had carried on so exuberantly over her goddamn tits, not since she was eighteen, not even Samantha. There was something to the notion of trying an inexperienced youth.

"Better stop," she said, placing her hands on the sides of his head to quiet him, to hold him still. "We can't get too carried away down here."

"I want you," he said huskily, drawing her hand to his crotch, letting her get a good feel of his erect cock which strained at his fly.

She ran her fingers along it as if acquainting herself with its dimensions, then gave it a squeeze and let go. "This is no place . . ." she began.

"There's a mattress," he said, dragging her by the hand three or four steps farther into the basement.

She peered. The basement seemed to be subdivided-at least, there was a tacky frame wall running the length of it, with cracked sheets of plywood nailed haphazardly onto intermittent joists, and there was a door. The part they were in was L-shaped, and in the short leg of the "L" was a mattress. It was even covered with an old bedspread. He led her down the room to the mattress and, standing by it, she looked back over her shoulder and discerned that it was out of sight of the windows.

"We have to get back to the party," she said.

"I've waited this long to meet someone like you," he said, "and I can't wait a minute longer."

His hands were on her shoulders as he spoke, and now he enfolded her in his arms, holding her tightly against his chest as he nibbled her earlobe.

"Mmm," she said, "but we'll have to hurry."

So saying, she stepped away from him and reached behind herself to unzip her dress, pulling it forward over her arms and then stepping out of it. She was suddenly and surprisingly naked except for her panties which stretched tightly over her mound and across her hips. She promptly peeled them away and blithely stepped out of them.

The matter-of-fact bounce and flop of her tits as she hustled to strip and the flash of her snatch as she stepped, set Lew a-tremble with genuine excitement. He stood staring frankly at her, eyes afire, mouth slightly open and shaped into a smile.

Click. The shutter snapped. Wedge, having crept into the basement on stockinged feet from the kitchen, stood behind the flimsy partition half-squatting to bring the lens of his Polaroid as near as he dared to a fist-sized hole in the plywood, a convenient oblong hole near a joist, splintered around the edges, and focused through the viewfinder to record in color this snapshot: a full front view of the English Department's only lady professor standing naked, arms akimbo, provoking and obviously enjoying the gawking gaze of a student. When she didn't look up, he exhaled, glad that the party sounds overhead drowned out his sounds.

"Come on," she said, after just a moment's hesitation, stepping onto the mattress and sitting on one hip with her knees bent. "Get undressed."

"You're gorgeous," Lew said, finding his voice. "My god, I just have to look at you. Lie back so I can look at you!"

He glued his eyes to her silken rotundities as he kicked off his shoes and began to take off his pants. Her skin was deliciously, smoothly white. Her breasts swayed to the side when she lay back on her elbow, and then when she went flat on her back each rolled in its own direction on her ribcage. Her thighs gleamed palely; one knee was slightly raised. She stretched her arms straight out to the sides; her armpits formed hollows and her skin stretched tight on her rib-cage to give her torso a washboard effect except for those sponge-like mounds each with its tan-pink eye at the center.

Lew dropped his shirt and crawled onto the mattress. When he tapped her knee-his eyes focused on her muff and obviously wanting to take a look at her pussy-she obediently let her legs flop apart to reveal to him her puffy pink crinkle.

"Oh, how marvelous," he said. And then, both remembering his role and on genuine impulse, he said, "I've never seen one before-I have to look at it!"

In acquiescence her legs shifted farther apart and Lew bent and placed a thumb on each of her bedewed, fleshy, hairy cunt lips. He drew her tender lips apart with a slowly deliberate motion, until they would stretch no further. Smiling, he stared on the puffy lips of her wide-open cunt, forming an O like a mouth open in surprise, slick with cuntal seepage, her budding clitoris peeping, and he saw beyond the delicately wrinkled labia and into the orifice itself, the deep pink walls of her sex channel visible to the eye until shadows darkened the folds at the rear of her cringing cavern. When he exhaled she felt his hot breath graze her myriad sensitive nerve endings, and Lucy felt the pace of her heartbeat double.

"Oh, my god, it's gorgeous," he raved. "Can I kiss it?"

"I told you, you don't have to ask every . . ." she began, but failed to finish when he plunged his lustful tongue into the hot core of her with a suddenness that took the breath from her. The tongue slithered at will, reaming Lucy's pussy and bringing it fully to life, every nerve a-jangle as he probed for, delighted in tasting, the source of her womanly musk.

"What's the best way to kiss it?" he asked.

"You're doing fine," she said. "Be aware of my clitoris," and she reached down to brush her erect little bud with her fingertip. He immediately attacked it with his tongue, first touching it lightly with the tip and then capturing it between the back of his tongue and his upper lip, extending his snaking tongue into her honey-pot and swishing briskly.

"Oh . . . Oh, my god!" she moaned, suddenly no longer feeling so completely in control of the situation. She threw her head back and wailed in animal passion as she ground her butt into the mattress in an attempt to escape the hotly worming tongue.

Click. Wedge snapped this picture for his album: the lady professor's head thrown back, her face contorted and almost unrecognizable with her mouth open as if in a scream, with both hands holding Lew's head.

Sucking sounds filled the basement as Lew continued to grind his mouth deeper and deeper into her pussy. With a loud wail her loins reared off the mattress, and she bucked her hips until her breasts jiggled. Wedge unzipped his fly and freed his painfully stiff cock, blood racing in his veins as for the first time he became quite sure that he was going to get a piece of Lucy Slade's hot ass. He moved around the corner of the partition to view the action from another gap in the wall, an aperture mid-distance down the short leg of the L which widened as it got nearer the floor-two feet from the floor it was wide enough for a lens.

Lew reared up, eyes glazed with desire and his chin shiny with slick cuntal lubricant. His cock was painfully swollen, and Lucy gasped when the full reality of it thrusting up between his legs emblazoned itself in her vision, ugly and blue-veined, its head almost purple with fire.

"No!" she gasped when he flexed it, waved it at her. Panic seized her. How much bigger, how frightening it was in comparison to her Cordless Massager! She had to tame it, she had to tame this boy's ungodly lust and thereby tame him!

"Can I do it to you now?" he asked, sweetly, knowing full well that he was going to fuck the bejesus out of her no matter what she said.

"Yes!" she cried, obeying her instincts and the weak emptiness in her belly, an emptiness itching to be filled. "Yes! Fuck me! Yes! Fuck my cunt!"

A tremor of sympathetic anticipation shot through Wedge's cock as lucky Lew lowered himself on her. He rubbed the rigid head of his tool up and down in her bubbling slit to moisten himself.

"Let me!" she cried. "Let me put it in!"

Lucy grasped Lew's rigidity with her hand and drew her legs way back as she centered the organ on her seething cunt-mouth. She squirmed her hips, lifting them off the bed as she began to work her hot pussy up onto the thick gristle of his manhood.

Click. Wedge recorded full color evidence that the lady professor is hot under the whiskers. The camera recorded that her puffy labia were stretched into a tight ring around the head of the shaft which she struggled to impale herself on. My god! Wedge thought, there Lucy Slade was begging for it from a kid who didn't even want to fuck her, someone who had to be blackmailed and literally beaten on the head before he'd even look at her. Lucy's antagonism toward men was well known. It was a fact about her of which everyone was aware, yet, behind the facade, behind all that rhetoric, she was easy. She was a downright easy lay. She obviously dug getting herself fucked. Is there any way to make her aware of her own nature? to enlighten her about herself? Wedge wondered. Lew lunged.

He buried fully half his shaft in the woman's tightly slick vagina. "Urg!" she squealed, deep in her throat. Her stomach rippled in aftershock. She felt the ripping tension clear out to her fingertips. Her pussy throbbed hurtfully but she knew she had to have more. With a moan she threw her ankles onto Lew's shoulders and, using that for leverage, began swiveling her tight socket on the impaling spike. She continued to swivel as he dropped the weight of his hips, his broad cock slowly widening her little used (not properly used) channel, reaming it out until Lucy thought she'd been split in two. Her neck tendons stood forth as she held back a scream.

"Does it hurt?" Lew whispered. "Am I hurting you? Do you want me to stop?"

She was too weak and out of breath to answer him. The pupils of her eyes rolled back under her half-closed lids. Then, in answer to him, she took a deep breath and began to move her pussy on the shaft that penetrated her so insanely, reaching to the core of her and making every fiber tingle. "Fuck me! Fuck me!" she gibbered. "Fuck my cunt! Fuck it! Fuck it good!"

Click.

Lew knew that Lucy's sweetly pulsing twat had not quite acclimated itself to him, but she had bubbled enough of her lubricant that it didn't matter. He drew out, almost all the way out, then hammered into her, and, quickly, did it again. He began ravaging the hole between her legs, pounding into her as if to pound every fold flat. He lunged more and more rapidly until his hips became a blur-click-and hers bounced quiveringly in unison. The tight folds of her cunt lining clinging to him, distending from her twat on the outstroke-visible to the naked eye as well as to the camera, click-only to be rammed back into her with the in-stroke. Both of them grunted with each stroke and their bodies glistened with sweat.

"Oh! Oh! Oh!" Lucy cried, biting her lower hp as she felt a muscle deep in her pussy begin to contract. At first, she didn't quite recognize it, because it hadn't contracted quite like that in years: it was as if her battered womb had begun to rebel, to fight Lew's merciless shaft. And then she felt every muscle, every fiber in her cunt go stiff in one big contraction and grasp Lew's tool. She tasted blood from her hp and her nipples felt so stiff and swollen she thought they might pop. One moment she writhed madly in a vain attempt to get away from that cruel cock, like a fish fighting the hook or gaff, and the next moment when the entire length of it began to twitch and quake within her she wanted every mothering inch of it, wanted the skewering monster to plunder her so thoroughly there would be nothing left. She dug all ten fingers into his ass as she felt herself begin to explode as, first her pussy muscles and then her entire nervous system went haywire.

"Ah . . . Ah . . . Aiiiieeeeee!" she screamed as she felt the first giant spurt of Lew's cum boil into her-click, this one captured her mouth wide open, eyes unseeing, recorded that her hips reared a foot and a half off the mattress-"I'm . . . I'm cummmming!" she cried. And it kept happening and Lew's churning cock kept spewing fire and her tongue dropped back into her throat and she made loud sucking noises as she gasped.

Wedge was aware, as the two in flagrante were not, that the noises from overhead suddenly ceased, that all of his guests upstairs had fallen into a hush as, for a moment, each asked himself, what was that? "A couple of alley cats," someone said, and the noises began again.

"Aggghhhh!" Lew groaned as spasms spread from his cock and balls up his spine and he began to thrash atop her, almost pulling her legs from their sockets as he writhed, his chest smacking her tits with sweat-wet echoes.

A moment later, by the time the party noises revved up again, the only sounds from the basement were those of contentment. Lew lay limply on top the exhausted woman, before he roused himself enough to roll off, wiping the sweat from his brow with his hand.

"Christ, that was something," Lucy said, between gasps. "But maybe you shouldn't have waited nineteen years."

"Why?" he asked, all innocence. "Didn't you like it?"

"I loved it," she said.

"What was wrong?" he asked, innocently.

"I'm not going to be the same for a week," she said. "You just fucked the hell out of my pussy, that's all."

"Oh."

"I'm bruised blue," she said.

"I don't think I ever felt better in my whole life," he said.

"I should hope not," she said. "I'd say you have a natural talent."

"You liked it, then?"

"I loved it," she said.

"Let's do it again," he said.

Lucy's eyes widened in sudden panic as she looked at his slowly dwindling cock, fearful that he might mean this instant. "We have to get back to the party," she said.

"When can we do it again?" he said.

"Can you wait until tomorrow?"

"No."

"You'll have to," she giggled. "When tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow evening," she said. "About eight o'clock. 880 C Street."

"Okay," he said.

Lucy went up onto her knees and crawled over to her clothes.

Click. The last picture on Wedge's roll was a rear view of the lady professor as she reached for her panties, her ass in the air and her knees apart. As he looked at the picture later that night, he saw details that he had missed at the time. The normally wispy fluff of her furry little nest was plastered flat on either side of her still-agape gash with a mixture of their juices. And when he looked closely, he saw, coming out of the folds, a definite driblet of sperm running over the wrinkled puffy lips and into her mat.

Wedge left the pictures for the time being in the corner of the basement, put his shoes on, and went back upstairs to the party, having already judged it a grand success. He was blithely refreshing drinks when the two returned. Lew appeared properly nonchalant and, from the breezy sight of Miss Slade no one suspected that just a few minutes before she had been in the basement wailing like an alley cat. No one, that is, except Samantha. Samantha sat in a chair in the corner, holding The Rover Boys, and refused to have her drink refreshed. When she saw the utterly self-possessed Lucy amble into the room, she walked up to her, crossing the room in three or four strides, and asked in a low harsh whisper, "Where have you been?"

"Just out getting a breath of air, dear," she said. "What's that you're holding?"