Chapter 8
Nan lay back exhausted and Billy fell across her, his softening penis still embedded in her. Suffused in the pleasure they had given each other, they lay panting as their bodies began to relax.
Then Teffler's scream pierced the bedroom's silence. Nan felt Billy's body stiffen, then his weight disappeared and she opened her eyes. He was excitedly scrabbling around for his clothes.
"They're whipping each other," he told her in a whispered scream. "Let's get out of here or we're next."
She was up in a trice, almost yelping in the fear of that awful-looking whip.
"Just grab your clothes," he said. "We can lock the elevator and dress in there."
They ran for the living room, the tortured screams of Art Teffler chasing them down the hall.
Nan almost smiled. Finally, that mean-minded Teffler was getting what he deserved, she thought. Abruptly she stopped. "The key!" she shouted. "I've got to get the key."
The screaming stopped. Oh, God, they've heard me, Nan realized with terror. She and Billy were in the outer room approaching the elevator door.
Billy had stopped when she shouted. They stood there looking at each other, naked and scared out of their wits.
Billy dropped his bundle of clothes and pointed to the door they had just come through. "Close it," he ordered. As she complied, he rushed to one of the room's heavy couches and pushed it across the carpetless tiles to block the door.
"See that cabinet," he said.
Frenziedly she looked to where he was pointing. There was noise of heavy footsteps running in another part of the house. A long, wide, shallow cabinet hung on the far wall. Its wooden doors were enameled decorously, but a crack down the middle and the tiny padlock told its use.
"All his keys are in there," said Billy. "You've got to break the lock."
Harvey and Teffler were now at the door, pounding to get in. Nan found a weighted metal ash tray and went to work on the tiny lock. It broke and fell away at the third blow. The doors swung wide, exposing at least fifty keys strung to tabs of cardboard with addresses written on them. The tabs hung from tiny hooks.
"Lower right hand corner," shouted Billy.
One of the tabs at the indicated position read "Mae."
"I've got it," said Nan. "So it was right out here all the time. God! How I wish I'd known that."
"Get our clothes into the elevator and hold the door for me," shouted Billy, now struggling mightily to keep the two torturers out of the anteroom.
"Billy, you scrawny little fag sunavabitch!"
It was Teffler. "I'll kill you when I get my hands on you."
"Now see what you've done," wailed Harvey. "He's gone... gone with a dirty female bitch... and it's your fault... he's the only one I ever loved and you scared him away. Take that!"
A swish and a smack from the whip and a hideous screech of pain from Teffler ended their attempts to get through the door. Billy almost laughed out loud as he shut the elevator behind them.
"When Harvey starts with the whip, he hates to stop. They'll be busy for hours now. We're safe."
"Funny," said Nan. "I can't hear them any more."
"The whole place is soundproof."
He stopped the car halfway down and turned to her. "Before we get dressed," he said, his old shy manner coming back. "I promised myself that you'd be the first girl I'd kiss. Do you mind?"
Their naked bodies pressed together gently and they ended the evening's lovemaking with a long, busy kiss.
Billy didn't have a car so Nan dropped him off. He kissed her lightly, before he left, and said good-bye. He was leaving town. He simply didn't have the courage to hang around New Toronto until Teffler and Harvey decided to get even with him for helping Nan.
"Teffler never intended to give you the key," he said. "But don't worry about him. I've got enough on him to put him away for 500 years. He won't bother you anymore."
He turned to go, then stopped and turned back slowly, drawing something from his coat pocket. "Do me a favor, will you?"
"Of course. What?"
"Get rid of these things for me?" He held out the silk underwear he had been wearing.
Nan smiled. "Sure I will... and good luck."
They had parked at an old-fashioned motel with individual units facing each other across a small court. She watched him as he strolled homeward between the bungalows.
Friday was a busy day at the Gazette. Reporters had to wrap up their week's work with numerous telephone calls and short interviews in preparation for the big weekend paper. Rewrite duty was doubled on everyone and, generally the staff put out three times as much work on Friday as it did all the other days of the week. A great deal of copy had to be piled up because only skeleton crews worked Saturday and Sunday.
Nan was busy writing all day, mostly boring stuff about service clubs and Boy Scouts, social gatherings and church events. There was a special hell for newsmen, Mr. Lopez had always said-it was a half world of dandy club news and dingy social happenings which have to be written up over and over again. If there was a better way to dull your mind, Nan couldn't imagine it.
But, all day, through the back of Nan's mind ran images of the Jetty mansion. Her curiosity about the place and what she would find there practically drove her crazy as she hacked through the day's dull routine. Finally, late in the afternoon, Nan dropped everything else and wrote a really good feature on Mae's life and philanthropies. None of her suspicions about Mae's wild sex life were included in the story. It was written so that it could be added to, however, and Nan would find out tonight at the mansion what to add.
The usual heavy rush-hour traffic hindered Nan that afternoon as she drove home. A couple of times she thought she caught a glimpse of Aaron Stemfelder's sports car with its egg yolk paint job and phony spoked hub caps. She couldn't be sure it was him, however. There were a lot of sports cars around-but she couldn't be too careful. Stemfelder was famous for his persistence on the trail of a salacious story.
Just in case Stemfelder was still following her, she took a roundabout route to the Jetty mansion that night, finally arriving there about 8 o'clock. A huge circular drive cut into the darkened forest surrounding the old house. She followed it up to a wide, gracious wooden front porch, now unpainted for many years. She parked, turned off her lights, and waited. No light broke the darkness, no motor interrupted the silence. Apparently she was home free.
The old porch creaked under her weight. Huge patches of bare wall and great chips of loose paint showed in the glare of her flashlight. If only this is the right key, she thought, I've got it made. She held her breath as she slid the key into the ancient doorlock, then sighed in relief as the key turned and the door opened inward on well-oiled hinges.
Inside was darkness. She shined her light in and exposed covered furniture making odd-shaped lumps around the living room. Dust was everywhere, especially in the folds and valleys of the canvas dropcloths protecting the furniture. It was piled up inches deep in some places. And yet, the place didn't have the musty unlived-in odor to it Nan had expected. And the door had been well oiled! Someone had been using the place all along. Teffler, she'd bet... but, what for?
Nan would worry about that later. For now she had to find evidence. But, where? Mary Lipsher had said something about an upper room... pictures, movies, and notebooks in an upper room. She cast her light about for a staircase and walked through the living room. A huge formal dining room was next, separated from the living room by a wide portal. Many doors led off the spacious chamber... apparently it was the central room of the house. She tried the doors until she found one that gave onto a small hallway ending in stairs.
"This is it," she whispered to herself.
The stairway was narrow and twisting. It led all the way up to the third floor of the house without any intermediate lands. Right to the points, she thought.
The noise of a passing car made her pause. It went by and she continued her careful tread up the squeaking steps. At the top there was a small landing and a single door. She ran her light over it. The knob was shiny with use. She grabbed it and opened the door. Stepping in, she found a light switch at her left and tried it. It worked. So the place is in constant use, she thought.
The room was bigger than she had suspected it would be. The furnishings of the room answered all her questions about the house's constant use. A huge tousled bed rested squarely in the center of the floor. Ranged around it were photographer's lamps and several cameras on tripods, one of them a moving picture camera. So this is how Teffler makes his money-dirty pictures. She was almost amused.
She looked around the rest of the room and noticed the walls were nothing but bookcases, occasionally interrupted by locked cabinets and drawers. The books took her interest and she gazed at them inquiringly until she recognized them... they were not books, they were photo albums... hundreds upon hundreds of photo albums.
A bookcase was at her right hand. She took out an album and it fell open in her hand. The picture that leaped up at her was a young girl, stark naked and bending over to touch her toes so that a gigantic dog could mount her. The camera had been situated so that Nan could see the glistening animal prong half buried in the hair-covered pussy of his human partner. The girl had her head turned to face the camera and she was smiling vacuously. That album contained nothing but pictures of girls and large dogs.
Each of the other albums followed a grisly theme of its own. One whole shelf was dedicated to one woman taking care of two men: she could swear one of the men was a younger Paul Hanley and she strongly suspected the woman was Mae Gail Jetty. But this wasn't proof. The pictures were so old Hanley would have no trouble denying he was a subject.
There was no writing in any of the albums, nor were any of them dated. They could be anywhere from ten to thirty years old and, Nan was willing to bet, a lot of respectable citizens of New Toronto had posed for some of these atrocities in their younger days. Maybe Teffler was dealing in blackmail... no, Nan decided against that: there were too many things for which he could be blackmailed in return. There was no profit in it and, as Teffler liked to point out, he was a businessman, dedicated to the making of profit.
Obviously, the albums were all the same. There was no sense in going through them until these locked cabinets and drawers had been investigated.
One of the small padlocks had a key in it and on that key was a ring with a dozen or so other little keys. A gold mine! she decided, and opened the cabinet. "Oh!" she stood back in shock. There was nothing in the cabinet except an ornate picture frame containing a full color picture, about half life-size, of Art Teffler at about the age of nine or ten standing at attention with half of his proud little erection in the mouth of a young woman who could be none other than Mae Gail Jetty. She had been a beautiful, full-bodied woman... She was facing the camera, Teffler's little penis in her mouth almost sideways so Mae could lift up her full, ripe young breasts to the lens' rapt gaze. She was sitting with her legs spread to allow a gleaming slit to wink out from its silken forest.
Nan couldn't take her eyes off the picture... the pink-fleshed woman, magnificently rounded and mature, contrasted with the skinny little boy with his hairless, tightly wrinkled scrotum, his sunken belly, his bony ribs and shoulders and the impish leer planted on his face. It was horrible. Nan shut the cabinet and locked it quickly.
She realized she was out of breath. She had been panting. Her breasts had grown hard as she studied that sensuous woman's mouth encompassing that absurdly tiny penis. She felt a tingling between her thighs and cursed it for being there without her willing it. Her week with this crowd had made her as dirty-minded and lascivious as they were. Imagine that awful woman introducing such a young boy to that kind of degrading activity. It was inhuman. It was...
A creaking noise interrupted her train of thought. Someone was on the stairs.
Nan was frantic. Conflicting emotions were raging in her. Passion flowed in waves made greater by lustful desire, only to batter themselves painfully against rocks of disgust. No one must find her like this. Her breasts were throbbing as she sat on the bed to catch her breath. Her vaginal muscles flexed with the memory of the past few days. She couldn't seem to calm herself.
Then the light went out.
Her flashlight! Where the hell had she put her flashlight? She scrambled around on the bed and the floor beneath it before she remembered she had put her flashlight on the bookcase by the door.
"Looking for this?" an unfamiliar man's voice said. Her flashlight flicked on and shone in her eyes.
"D-don't," she said. "It hurts my eyes."
The man chuckled and the room lights came on. She looked up and Aaron Stemfelder dropped his hand from the wall switch, put his bony fists on his hips and stared at her.
"I've often heard about this room," he said. "It more than lives up to its advance billing."
"What d-do you want?"
"That depends."
Nan's insides were making lustful twitches. She could hardly keep herself from ripping open the cabinet to show Stemfelder what the grinning little boy was doing with his penis. That would get Stemfelder's mind going in the right direction. Nan's body had already begun to take her over. She couldn't help smiling sensuously when she asked, "Depends on what?"
Stemfelder looked at her anew. From an opposition reporter out of whom he had to squeeze a story, she now became a sexy young girl who fairly squirmed with lecherous anticipation. The dog album had fallen open on the floor and soon Stemfelder's glance fell on it.
"Ah," he said. "All these albums..." he swept an arm to indicate the room.
"Y-yes. All of them." Nan was torn between the two desires of escape and lust. All he had to do was say a word...
I've never seen a woman so hot with her clothes on, thought Stemfelder. Looks to me like the right approach to her will open more than her notebook.
He walked over and unlocked the cabinet. "What had you so entranced?" he asked. He opened the doors.
"My God!" he said appreciatively. "We've got quite a story if those two are who I think they are.
"I've got a story, you mean. I found this place."
"Then what do I have?"
"How about me?"
The tone of her voice told him she wasn't kidding. Kidding, hell, she was panting. The pictures in this room really got to her. He wondered how long she had been browsing through Art Teffler's private erotica.
"You're not bad," he commented with overdone casualness. Trying to appear uninterested, he stepped over to her and began to unbutton her blouse. The sight of her pink rounded flesh reacted in his crotch. He felt it hardening but retained the slow, idle pace of his hands as they moved down her blouse.
He was standing only inches from her now and she could see, or did she sense, the movement in his pants. She laid her open hand against his crotch to feel his rod expanding and throbbing. He twitched involuntarily at her touch.
"There's a dance going on in there," she giggled, "and I think I know the music."
"I'm willing to bet you wrote the score." He pulled her blouse open, exposing a white bra bulging with pink flesh. He cupped his hands over them and kneaded gently.
"Mmmmmmm," she sighed. "Nice, aren't they?"
Stemfelder's head began to boil with hot confusion. If this little bitch thinks she's going to screw me out of a story, he told himself, she's wrong. I'll fuck her all night and still get the goods on old Mae Jetty.
Nan continued to rub the lengthening tube in his trousers, wondering how big it would get before it stopped growing. Suddenly she had to see it.
"Take off your clothes," she demanded.
"That's usually the man's line," he rejoined.
She jumped away from him. "Take 'em off," she insisted. "I want to watch."
They looked at each other a minute, measuring the heat in each other's eyes. Then he smiled almost ruefully. She was beautiful. He was going to have her now no matter what it cost him.
"I'll take off anything you will," he said, taking up the childish dare of her tone.
She wiggled out of her blouse while this avid eyes devoured every movement. He dropped his coat and removed his tie.
"We're even," he chided her.
"Now you go first," she pouted playfully.
Quickly, he unbuttoned his shirt and tugged it off.
"You're skinny," she said, looking at the spare flesh of his chest stretched tightly over his rib cage.
"You're not," he replied. "Let's have the bra."
She reached back, unsnapped it and handed it to him. He was bug-eyed when he saw her large, full tits bouncing before him, their dark pink nipples obviously hard as diamonds.
She kicked off her shoes and stood up on the bed. He bent to remove his shoes and socks while she reached under her skirt and rolled down her pantyhose, slowly, luxuriously. He watched hungrily as she unzipped her skirt and dropped it down her perfect legs. Tremblingly he reached for his belt buckle, his wide eyes staring at the blue bikini pants that were now the only thing between the best part of each of them.
"Let me," she said in a heated whisper. She fell to her knees, causing the mattress to shake, and reached for the front of his trousers. Stemfelder placed a palm on either side of her head and held his breath while her fingers worked clumsily at his belt and zipper. In a second cool air washed his ass and a warm hand cupped under his balls. He felt his wildly pulsating prick jump free and slap her wetly on the face when his shorts fell.
Remembering Teffler, she jumped away from him and, standing on her knees, viewed his spare frame, giving special attention to the twitching, jerking, blood-filled purple head of his passion-flamed prick. The slit in its end glistened with lubricant, its shaft was entwined under its outer skin with thick ridges and bulging blue veins.
"In me," she panted. "Get it in me."
She pulled down her bikini pants with an urgency she had never felt before. He leaped onto the bed before she could lie down and, grabbing her hips in surprisingly strong hands and knees.
"Didn't you see the dog album?" he grunted. "That's how I like it-backward."
"But..."
"None of that, Red. No complaints." He pushed her face into a pillow and shut her up, then with both hands he massaged her hind cheeks, rubbing slowly up and down the milk-white orbs, spreading them to see the rubbery ring of her asshole contract, closing them tightly to squeeze the juice from her already flowing cunt. The bright red hairs parted to show pink lips, opening and closing as he massaged the cheeks of her ass around and around.
"I've been wondering all week if you were a real redhead," he sneered. "Until now, you could've fooled me."
"Put it in me," she hissed. "And don't get the wrong hole."
"Dirty-mouthed little bitch, aren't you?"
"Hurry, please."
Have I ever got you good now, you little bitch, Stemfelder was thinking. First I muscle into your cunt, then I muscle in on your story... the wire services will pay through the ass for some dirt on Mae Gail Jetty. And the magazines... with all the pictures in this place... The blackmail alone could make ten Stemfelders rich.
He placed the very tip of his glans against her hot, wet pussy lips, slid it up and down, delighting to feel her whole body shudder as he teased her. Up and down, he slid the head of his prick, slipping it deeper into the pink folds of flesh only a silly millimeter at a time. He could see her tortured cuntlips opening to gulp him down but one of his hands held her by the buttocks helping him remain master of the situation. A little deeper and he could feel the cunt walls open for him and then clamp down.
"Great sucking demons!" he exclaimed. "There's enough action in there to start an earthquake."
Nan was moaning and mewling now in tantalized anticipation. Why didn't he jam it in and get started? Fun and game time is over... it's time to got to work. She tried to push herself back on him, but his big bony hand held her by the ass and wouldn't let her move. She hated this position. She couldn't see what was going on. She adjusted her head to look back under her own body. Her breasts, hard as they were, hung down so that her nipples were a good five inches from her chest, her belly was pumping in and out with the passion of waiting for him to act, and she could see his balls with their black hair covering hanging beneath her red pussymat.
She spread her smooth white legs a bit more to get a better view of his sinewy, hairy ones and her movement caused his penis to fall out of her. She saw it only for an instant as it swooped down, long and thick, throbbing with lust, then it jumped back up to duty.
"Uuummmmmmmmpppppphhhhh!" she said as he shoved it in about a quarter of the way. "Oooooooohhhhhh!" she moaned approvingly as he pushed another few inches, forcing her tight cuntwalls apart deliciously. "Aaagghhh!" she screamed when he came up on his toes and rammed it all the way home, sloughing its way through fold after fleshy fold until it came crashing to base like a flailing jet plane, at a point so far into her it felt like the pit of her stomach.
"How's that?" he asked. He had intended to push her off balance but she had fooled him. She was firmly planted on knees and elbows, her beautiful buttocks rubbing back and forth on his bristly belly, her cheek clenching and unclenching to heighten the pleasure of his entry and pull him even more deeply into her wriggling womb.
He paused again and began to flex his big prick where it sat. The huge spear on which she was impaled now began to expand and diminish rhythmically and she uttered a soft "Ooomph!" with each quick swelling.
Now he pulled it out maliciously slow, delighting to hear her long, drawn-out "Oooooo!" as he did. In again, he pushed it with sadistic deliberation and heard her utter, "Aaaaaaa!"'
But Aaron Stemfelder's groin was about to explode. A universe of fire was building up in his balls and he could resist it no longer. Gripping her hips with his powerful hands he plunged home again, quickly withdrew all the way to the glans and drove into her again. He pulled his knees up between her plump thighs for better traction and continued his fast-paced piledriving while Nan cried out in joy and rotated her ass to help his lunging cock find more and more area inside her to agitate with its unending motion.
The tingling that had started between her thighs when she first saw the picture in the cabinet had developed into a swishing feeling, then a gurgle, then a rumble, until now her insides were roaring like a thunderous sky. Her spine was enveloped in an electrical storm that sent sparks out even to her fingertips and toes. She could even feel her hair standing on end.
She heard herself grunting like an animal and, as if some far off part of her mind were coolly watching the scene, she was mildly disturbed that a nice girl like her had gotten talked into a position like this. But that was only a small part of her being; the rest of her was groveling in hedonistic filth and loving it. Dog style, eating it, standing up, balancing on the bridge of her nose, or fucking on the dead run... nothing was too horrible for her to try now. She loved it and couldn't help herself even if she wanted to. Even the muscle control she had so recently gained in her womb was gone and her vagina grabbed each new attack with a bellow of pure pig-in-shit joy as it sucked dry the stem of Stemfelder, trying with all its might to pull the balls right out of him. Nan experienced a new release deep within her as all restraint, all self-control, all self-denial, shame, guilt, confusion, modesty-everything went sliding slimily right down the Fallopian tubes to be expended as extra energy in the only thing that mattered: a grunting, sweating, squirming, squealing, digging, scratching, roistering, cum-ming, squirting, twitching session of vaulting the crossbar on the old skin pie.
Both of them were grunting now and Stemfelder's big scrotum swung in a giant arc as she watched it from between her own tits. Suddenly his balls tightened up.
"This is it!" he yelled in absolute abandon.
All her sensations converged on her cunt as he spoke and she knew it was time... her explosion was about to take place and she doubted that a thing in the room would be dry after she was through spewing.
"Iiiiii'mmmmm hhhhoooooommmmmmmee!" shouted Stemfelder.
"Oooooohhhhhh, God!" answered Nan, though her voice was muffled by the pillow into which she had buried her face.
"Aaahhh! Iii'mm CCUUMMMIINNGG!" she announced into the uncaring feather recesses of the somewhat stained pillow.
A blinding flash interrupted them even before they could come out of position. Another one filled the room as they tried to unentwine their bodies and catch their breaths. Then another.
Nan was so choked with passion she couldn't talk but she heard Stemfelder recover himself enough to angrily demand, "Who the hell are you?"
Another blinding flashbulb answered him.
"God damn you! Cut it out!" shouted Stemfelder, trying to scrape up his clothes.
Nan didn't care what was happening. She was still gushing and still had her white-gloved ass in the air, grinding it around and around in sexual passion as if Stemfelder's big dick were still in her.
Finally through cumming, she collapsed and, like the creature she had now become, began to wonder where her next piece was coming from.
"Get dressed, Stemfelder, and get out of here," a voice said.
"All right, all right," said Stemfelder. "Just give me a minute."
Nan's sexual haze cleared now and, turning on her back, leaning on her elbows, her legs still pleasure-splayed, she looked at the doorway and saw Billy. He held a camera in one hand and a small pistol in the other.
"Billy!" she said, "W-what are you doing?"
"Helping you get your story," said Billy. "This bastard would have screwed you and still stolen the story from you."
Stemfelder said nothing. He just kept pulling on his clothes, obviously in dire fear of the gun in Billy's hand.
"Isn't that the truth, Aaron!" Billy asked, leveling the gun at Stemfelder's belly.
"P-put the g-gun away and we'll t-talk it over, kid," stuttered Stemfelder.
Nan slowly became aware that she was not only naked but lying on a bed between two men, her body spread out as if on display. She pulled a blanket up over her.
Billy moved out of the doorway to stay out of Stemfelder's reach as the bigger man left the room.
"I'll be listening for your car," Billy told him, "so don't try anything."
"Fuck you," was Stemfelder's parting shot.
They waited until, off in the distance, they heard a car start up and drive away.
"That takes care of him," said Billy, "And you don't have to worry about Teffler and Harvey. Neither one of them could stand any publicity about their private lives."
"Thanks you, Billy, but I just don't understand."
"Read this," he said and handed her an envelope from his coat pocket.
It was a letter from a Korean orphanage to Mae Gail Jetty, dated two years ago, which read:
"Dear Mrs. Jetty,
"The children have asked me to write their tanks for the presents you brought on your last visit. The warm clothes have been very useful during the terrible winter months. Also, as you advised, we have enlarged the dispensary and, with the money you donated, have hired a full-time doctor."
The letter went on for several pages describing the operation of the orphanage with which Mrs. Jetty must have been intimately involved.
Nan looked up at Billy. "I don't get it."
"I've got Teffler's car outside," he said. "There are boxes and boxes of letters like this from all over the world. I was afraid when you saw this room, you might write an Aaron Stemfelder type expose on Mrs. Jetty."
"I have to admit, I was tempted to expose her when I saw the picture of her and Art Teffler."
"That's just what I was afraid of. But now..."
"Now I can use the letters in the story and no one has to know about all this," she said. She threw off the covers and reached for her clothes. He watched her with unabashed admiration, his shyness with women was quickly disappearing.
Then she remembered what he had said last night. "I thought you were leaving town," she said with a knowing smile as he watched her dress. "Why hang around here just to help me?"
"You helped me," he said simply.
"Well, now you can help me. We've got to organize the letters tonight so I can finish the Jetty story..." she paused limply, thinking of the long night ahead of them... "and you're going to have to do most of the work. I've had a helluva tough week."
"That's all right with me," said Billy. "But first..."
Billy had watched Nan as she threw off the covers, exposing her rosy nakedness, her full, bobbing breasts, her rounded buttocks, the double crease at her groin pointed at the bright red hair between her legs... those beautiful legs that he'd just last night been tightly wrapped around him, squeezing him into her hungry, sucking cunt.
Nan had leaned over to pick her clothes up off the floor by the bed. Suddenly Billy was directly in front of her, standing on her panties just as she was about to grab them. She stared at his black shoes and the pantlegs of the Levi's he had worn that night. Before she could look up or say anything the Levi's fell to the floor, followed closely by a new pair of men's boxer shorts.
"It's time for my second lesson," he said, a strange sadistic tone taking over his voice.
She looked up and found herself staring into the muzzle of the tiny, nickel-plated pistol as well as into the gaping slit of his erect and dancing prick. Its head was deep purple and, as she watched it, a bead of filmy moisture formed in its one baleful eye. Billy's face wore an expression that wanted to be threatening, but only struck her as funny... he seemed desperately frightened.
Her first urge was to giggle. She suppressed it, probably saving her life, and asked him, "Which one of those are you going to use?"
"Which one do you think?"
Instead of answering, she leaned toward his passionately leaping penis and licked off the newly formed bead of lubricant, savoring its taste of salted musk.
"Two-gun Billy," she smiled. Dropping to her knees, she cupped one hand under his satiny scrotum and with the other grasped his lengthening prick at its hairy base. Making an oval of her mouth she slid her head over the fleshy impalement and sucked gently, swabbing the rubbery glans with a busy tongue. Sucking hard, she tightened the grip of her lips and slowly pulled her head back until the cock ejected with a loud, wet pop.
Billy almost leaped in shock and pleasure. He had felt the vacuum pressure she had brought to bear... he had felt it deep within him, so deep that his balls had twitched and his bowels felt a tugging sensation. "Oooooohhhh!" he moaned. "How the hell do you do that?"
"Natural talent," she explained, licking her lips. "Put your other gun away and let's lay down," she said. "The bed is quite comfortable. It's quality tested, in fact."
The sight of his dancing prick had turned things on inside her. She could feel a comforting warmth wash through her, as if the mere sight of a penis and a set of balls were enough to make her feel right at home in any situation, as if the presence of male genitalia provided her with a kind of emotional scepter, the privilege of command, complete control.
Ever since that first day at Hanley's-had it only been Monday, it seemed years ago-she realized that she loved sex even as she hated being forced to perform. But, now, she was beginning to understand that sex was her natural environment, that nudity was her natural costume, that flesh was her world and she was a queen empowered to hold court while all her blood-filled guards stood at strict attention.
She felt the moisture forming on the walls of her cunt as she lay back and spread her legs, exposing her ruby-lipped pussy to the skinny, bug-eyed boy beside her. He fairly ripped his coat and shirt away and leaped at it, tongue first.
She cooed as his oral member slithered into her cunt. Her clitoris emerged, pink and ready and he laved it like a cat voraciously licking at a spilled drop of cream. As if starving, he lapped, sucked, and nibbled until she thought she'd scream in lust-filled, pagan abandon.
"I-I had the idea you'd n-never done this before," she gasped, full of wonder at his expertise.
He nipped her bud again, then slurped his tongue deeply into her cunt before he looked up, grinned, and said, "Natural talent."
Then he dove back to work again. The tip of his tongue parted the red pussy hair, darting up and down and around the cuntlips, then slipping between the lips, exposing pink folds of flesh. The sensation of his tongue and of his hot breath on her vulval lips sent a crawling delight throughout her body. Her flesh rippled. He ran his long, pointed tongue up one lip from just inside it all the way to the top, then down just inside the other lip, sending a tingling through her when his tongue reached the rear of that delicious opening.
Billy wanted into her. He wanted his tongue, lips, nose, his whole face to dive right into her gaping cunt. Using his thumbs, he opened the lips wider, running his tongue deeper into the pink velvety, flowing cunt. Her juices oozed onto his oral member from every direction, their flavor and odor shooting flames of passion through him. His balls seemed to itch from inside, his lengthy cock pulsed and throbbed as it hung from his crotch in this hand-and-knees position.
He didn't know he would like eating it this much. He had, in fact, been almost certain it would disgust him to do what he was doing now. He had been fooling himself all these months;-he hadn't been afraid of women at all, or disgusted by his own weakness, hating his own failure to take part in normal sex.
Now he laved at her cunt, driving his tongue deeper and deeper as Nan moaned from somewhere above him. The only trouble was he couldn't get his tongue in deep enough. His hands were clutching her beautiful, round buttocks. He moved them up her thighs, pushing her legs up and back until Nan took hold of them herself and pulled her knees to her own body, pressing her breasts flat, presenting him with a wide-open, pulsing, pink pussy. She worked her muscles and he felt their effect as he plunged his tongue deeply into her vagina, the lips of his mouth pressed against the hair-covered lips of her cunt. He sucked at it as hard as he could and her body quivered with happy spasms of sexual recognition.
Then-my God!-her cunt, from deep within its dark, comforting recesses, sucked him back, actually pulling at his slithering tongue, trying to bring him down to the ultimate ocean that lay dark and untended down, down into the cavern of her being. He would drown in those warm, slimy waters, and gladly.
Nan wasn't even aware that her cuntal walls were closing on him, she wasn't aware that her love muscles, wherever they were in her pelvis, were grabbing him and sucking at him. The sensation she was feeling was a cumulative one... coming possibly from tonight with Aaron Stemfelder, or from all this week, starting with Hanley and the detestable Art Teffler. She didn't know what it came from or how or why-and she didn't care. What she felt was the total effect of all the relevant muscles working at once, all the relevant juices flowing at the same time, all heading in the same direction. She felt not one sensation but hundreds, and her present partner was only one small twig in a forest of life sprouting up around her since Monday.
Billy's prick throbbed screamingly. It wanted the action it was built for; it cried out for proper employment. She sighed as his tongue left her hot, grasping pussy. A terrible vacancy was left by his sudden defection from duty, but soon it was replaced, as Billy eased her legs down and then around his waist, by the hard, rubbery, blood-filled, purple glans.
Look, man, no hands, he thought, as he pushed his hips slowly forward and the slippery prick-head edged wetly between the widely palpitating lips of her cunt. Gratefully, it slid in, almost speaking its relief through its one slit of a mouth.
A shudder of wanton delight surged through Nan's raw, nerve-tingling body as Billy's long-deprived manroot reached its first inch of penetration. Her breasts heaved and the nipples jiggled against the pressure of his boylike body as the bed shook under his efforts to assume a favorable fucking position.
Then he drove it home and Nan yelped to feel his lengthy gristle tear into her, diving in one long descent until their pelvises slapped together noisily. He withdrew all the way to the tip of his vein-wound piledriver, then drove in again. She squirmed up to meet him, sheathing him like a greased glove. Their bodies slapped together again and again and again... she would never get enough of it. The feel of it, the smell of it, the sound of it filled her with ecstasy.
"Ooooooh yes, yes... fuck me this way," she heard herself moan. "Oh, shit, yes! Fuck it into me this way!" she mewled, writhing her body lustfully as he continued his frenzied motion in and out and in again. She felt that the whole world was before her and that she was young enough to take advantage of it. Cocks were everywhere. Large ones... small ones, fat and thin, the world was a paradise of cocks... and the longest one of them all was sunk into her hungry cunt... fucking into her, growing with each thrust like an immense, oversized mile-long hot dog... and now his finger entered, backed out, and entered again into her tightly puckered anus, lambasting her clenching rectum like another throbbing prick... and she was now a prisoner... a helpless, defenseless slave who could do nothing against the delicious assault of her pussy and asshole... strapped between their battering lust like an ensnared animal.
She sensed that he was slowing down, tiring perhaps, trying to catch his breath.
"Oh God! Don't stop," she cried piteously. "Oh, fuck! Don't ever stop!"
He labored above her, moving suddenly into longer, smoother strokes that drew his cock nearly out of her clasping vagina on the backstroke, then plunging forward into her uplifted buttocks again until she felt the harsh slap of his balls against the exposed crevice of her anus. He thrust harder and she saw the pleasure his boyish face exhibited as he forced screams and gurgling moans from her.
"Ooooohh!" she cried, this time from the scraping of his finger as it plunged and swirled more deeply into her asshole.
He seemed to be aware of his power over her now. He worked his finger around inside, stretching the rubbery softness wider and wider as he ground into her. She felt a second finger making its way into her tortured bottom, and the deep guttural noises coming from her chest eased into whimpers of pain, slowly subsiding to give way to greater moans of pleasure as her anus slowly became accustomed to his digital invasion.
He smiled a cocky grin of triumph into her face and dropped his lips to hers, shoving his tongue deep into her sucking mouth as she began to skewer her rectum back onto his fingers shamelessly, and he probed them methodically around the warm spongy depth, sending new electric sensations through her. She was marvelously impaled between his stone-hard throbbing cock deep within her vibrant cunt and his fingers shoved tightly in her asshole. The thought raised further moaning and mewling from her chest and she began twisting and squealing joyfully under this double ravishment of her naked, widespread loins.
Then, he brought his hand around to where his cock was sliding smoothly in and out of her clasping pussy, and she felt him begin to fondle the soft hair-lined lips milking at his rampaging cock, and he continued to play there until softer groans of unrestrained pleasure formed in her throat and leaped appreciatively into his ears. Her widening vagina seemed to gape in greedy desire, swallowing the whole of his cock as it plunged again and again to her very core.
Suddenly he quickened his thrust, hot and pulsating and deep, and the tormenting agony of pleasure caused her to thrash beneath him. She felt him rip his fingers from her asshole with a wet hissing sound, their loss suddenly disconcerting her, but then he was pressing his hands under her knees, lifting to no avail as she clamped her legs around him even tighter, locking her ankles together.
"Oh, oh, ooohhh," she commenced to chant beneath him, her face feeling as if it were contorted in an unrecognizable mask of wild, insane passion.
Again he quickened his stroke, grunting and groaning, grinding hard and deep, his cock boring hard up into the hidden recesses of her womb. She was a mass of exquisite moisture at her crotch, and her loins blazed at her mind, overpowering all vestiges of thought other than that of the magnificent pressure building inside her.
Nan's awareness had receded down the forgetful corridors of her mind. She was all sex and had lost all meaning except those found in tactile sensations. She was vaguely aware of Bill's hands running over her like searing tongues of flame, of his lips, of the hot friction of his body as it squirmed and swarmed against her. This was it! This was really it! Somehow it had never happened to her like this before.
"Fuck me! Fuck me! Billy! Oh, wonderful Billy! Fuck me harder! Harder!"
She panted and writhed, then heard his wailing breath. His cock was a huge, unrelenting animal, raging and hurtling into her, making her tingle from the tips of her toes to the back of her head. It was a dream... a nightmare of joy.
She gasped out a scream. 'Oh God! Oooooooohhhhh Christ! I'm coming! IIII'MMM CUUUUMMMMMMIIIIINNNNNGGGG!" And even as she jerked and thrust against him, she felt his cock grow huge and begin to pump his hot, thick sperm far into her soft quivering belly, their juices mingling deep down inside in a wet pool of bliss and passion she had never dreamed could possibly exist.
Her legs held tight to him as he continued pumping into her and then, together, their bodies relaxed and, still entwined, they sprawled on the bed. As their heavy panting eased, she felt his shriveling penis drop out of her, pulling a few dollops of his cum to dribble down between the cheeks of her ass and nestle slimily at the entrance to her anus.
Soon Billy revived just enough to pull the blanket up over them and, wrapped up in each other's arms and legs, they slept.
Billy fell immediately into a deep and blissful sleep. After a while he found himself dreaming his own version of Muslim heaven: cool waters, green grass, and hundreds of beautiful redheaded houris serving rare foods and wines and any favor he sought. That was a truly civilized heaven, he thought. No stupid harps, no big clumsy wings and all that flying around, just acres and acres of cool green grass to roll around on with Nan and ninety-nine like her.
Nan dreamed, too. But her dreams were of the here and now. She dreamed of Billy, the ex-queer; of Paul Hanley, the poor man's rake; of Art Teffler and his friend Harvey, those two sadistic blood-loving near-humans; of Aaron Stemfelder, the dog lover; of the orgy club at Mrs. DiMintri's mansion, a good fucking quartet if Nan ever saw one; of lovely Mary Lipsher, who wasted no time but got much done; and even of nasty old Peter Dingle, whom she wouldn't know by sight, but whose smell she'd never forget.
Most of all, however, she dreamed of Mae Gail Jetty, whose spirit seemed to preside over Nan's existence this past week. Nan would never forget Mae grinning, despite the little boy's penis in her mouth: Mae, who left the good life for a life of doing good.
The good life held Nan now and it was no life for a good girl. But that didn't matter. She snuggled up to Billy's warm body and smiled in her sleep, as it occurred to her to wonder how many Billys would follow.