Chapter 3

Janet was a secretary in the office where I worked. Her husband was a Wall Street broker and she made a big thing out of the fact that she really didn't have to work, she just couldn't stand to sit around at home doing nothing. It was as if she was just a little better than the rest of us because she was working-"being productive," she called it-simply because she believed in it, while we plebeians were working for baser motives. (Just to survive.) Every summer she rubbed her wealth in peoples' faces by inviting everyone in the office to an ostentatious party at her house in Scarsdale. I'd been at the office ten months when "the occasion" came around. That was when she first made me want to fuck her. And I don't mean just fuck her in the sense of having intercourse. I mean I wanted to fuck her, you know, the way you mean it when you say, "Fuck you!"

Janet was the girl I thought of right away when, a few weeks after the party, I got my idea from that TV show. I knew she was playing around with some other guys and I guessed from what I'd seen of her husband that he wouldn't take too kindly to that. She was about twenty-eight, and he was almost fifty. Everyone in the office believed she'd married him for his money. That made her a sort of whore to begin with. And then she had the gall to act as though I was beneath her-like some kind of insect. Even though I was an accountant and she was only a secretary.

I'd picked out Janet as the most attractive woman in the office the day I'd gone to work there, and I fantasized a lot about balling her. As usual, I couldn't hide the fact that I was desperate for some sex. I tried my best but as always, even in so little as a casual "hello" while passing her in the hall I knew that my horniness showed through. She was always polite. Too polite. I could always see that little taunting in the corners of her eyes that said, "Well, what do you know! The Worm!" I could tell I had about as much sex appeal for her as a dead cow. At the same time she went out of her way to look sexy and be sexy-superficially at least-all the time.

Janet was medium height-maybe five foot six-and she had wavy brown shoulder-length hair. Her complexion was pale, and showed vague remnants of childhood freckles, a few on her high forehead and more on her cheeks. Her brown eyes had a perpetually haughty look. Her eyebrows were high and finely tweezed; her nose was straight and regular, with a subtly molded bulb that hooked slightly at its tip. Her cheeks were full. Her face was oval. Her upper lip was sharply arched while her lower lip was straight across above her smoothly rounded chin. From what I could tell from looking at her in the fashionable clothes she wore to work, which varied from short pleated skirts and turtle-necks to stylish pant-suits to things like Greek peasant dresses, she had large, loose, bulbous tits, a decently but not spectacularly slender waist, a smooth, relatively flat stomach, and a pair of nice, round, heavy buttocks. Her legs were just slightly heavy-if you really wanted to be picky about it All in all she was a damned good-looking woman, although not quite as gorgeous as she thought she was, and she made it obvious just which men she was attracted to and which she wasn't

Janet was the treasurer's secretary, and that meant she dealt with me quite often. In fact, her office was next to mine. We were in an old building down on Park Avenue in the Thirties, there were connecting doors between lots of the offices. There was one between hers and mine, and one between hers and her boss's on the other side. Sometimes she bothered to close the door, but most of the time she didn't, so there were many days when I spent eight hours pouring over columns of figures and half watching her out of the corner of my eye.

I remember one afternoon in particular. It. was around 4:30 on a Friday in mid-June, about a week before the party. She was wearing one of her short pleated skirts. It was white and it reached to about three inches above her knees, so that when she bent over you could see the bottoms of her tight bikini panties.

She got a call and she talked loudly enough so I could overhear. Her husband was out of town and she was setting up a date with a boyfriend. As she talked she kicked her feet up onto her desk and swung to and fro in her swivel chair and laughed and gestured. Sometimes her tone was soft and seductive, and sometimes it was coy and teasing. "How desirable I am," she seemed to be telling me.

She rolled her head back and looked at the ceiling and swung in her chair with her feet up. The hem of her skirt slid up her thighs. She wasn't wearing stockings, and I could see the mounds of her ass cheeks against the chair squishing back and forth, back and forth, and the seams of her panties rubbing against them all around, and once in a while when she swung especially far I could see the hollow between her thighs where wisps of dark hair strayed out from beneath the bulge of white silk that covered her cunt

She was going on and on about how they shouldn't meet at that place, they should meet at this place, and she didn't feel like Chinese food, how about French? (Much more expensive, I thought.) I just sat there with my mouth open and my pencil hanging over a column of figures like a dead branch off a tree and listened to her practically fuck the guy over the phone.

Suddenly she rocked forward. She noticed me and saw what I was looking at and gave me a shocked start and pulled her legs down. She looked at me as though she'd just bitten into something rotten-as if to say, "How disgusting you are!"

She looked straight at my crotch and that was the first time I realized I had my hand there and I was gripping my cock through my pants. It was rock-hard and there was a little damp splotch. I was wearing light brown pants and it showed up black like an ink spot.

She stopped talking to her friend in the middle of a sentence. He must have asked her what was going on, because she said, "Oh, nothing, just some creep that works in my office ogling me." She swung around to face in the other direction and put her feet up on her desk again. She spread her legs out this time, but I couldn't see anything. "Oh," she said coyly into the phone, "I was sitting sort of facing him through a connecting door with my feet up on my desk, and I'm wearing a short skirt and no stockings and little skimpy silk panties. He'd must have got quite an eyeful." She chuckled. "Now I'm sitting with my feet up on my desk and my legs spread, but I'm facing away from him . . . " She glanced back over her shoulder at me with another look of disgust.

I got up and slammed the connecting door closed. After that it was all I could do to make up my mind to go to the party at her house.

I had one friend in the office. His name was Gary. He wasn't much better off than I was, but he did have luck with women occasionally. Only with ugly ones, though, because he was skinny as a split rail and about six-three and altogether sort of gangly. He was the personnel director, so he'd been the one who'd hired me, and from the beginning we'd sensed that we were brothers in desperation.

"Look, you ought to go," Gary told me the day before the party. "First, its always a hell of a spread-hors d'oeuvres like caviar and anchovies and shit like that, open bar, and then porterhouse steaks roasted over charcoal . . . I mean, you'd pay fifty bucks for it in a restaurant. Live band, champagne, imagine cigars.. . . Second, all the company's big-wigs go. Its sort of incredible when you think that Janet's just a secretary, but her husband-now he handles lots of the company's investments, and so its kind of like a social-business thing.

And if you want to get any place in this company, you ought to go where the executives go. Take my word for it. And third, they've got a swimming pool, and everybody takes their bathing suits. And you should see Janet in some of hers. I've been to three of these things, and they get skimpier every year. And some of the other girls, like Nancy and Jill, come out looking pretty good too." Nancy was the head buyer-I should have mentioned that this was a wholesale fabrics company-and she was about thirty-six. She was a little chubby and too aggressive for my taste, but she was a nice-looking brunette on the whole, and she was single. And Jill was the vice-president's secretary. She was a miniscule redhead with a couple of nice tits to show for herself-if her bras weren't padded-but just about no ass at all. An ass like a little boy's. I hadn't got close enough to be rejected by them yet

I saw that Gary had logic on his side, and that anyway, it would just make Janet's victory over me all the more complete if I didn't show. So I showed.

Their place was really something, all right. You could tell it was going to be just driving up into the hilly section where it was located. It looked like there was one hill for every house-or mansion, I guess you'd say. There were columns of brick and stone at the entrance to the driveways, and big old oak trees and maples and sycamores and so on, and lush green lawns watered by underground sprinkler systems, and huge flower beds, and hedges trimmed into all kinds of artistic shapes. And up behind all the flowers and greenery you could see the facades of English Tudor and American Colonial and Southern Plantation and even Gothic and Frank Lloyd Wright-type architecture. As we swooped down into a hollow and crossed a stream-Gary was driving his new Pontiac; I didn't have a car-and came to the Jamiesons' Georgian arch, I thought to myself, You can keep those big lawns and old trees and twenty-room houses and three-car garages and swimming-pools and all that shit. Just give me a piece of ass, that's all!"

"Well," Gary chuckled as he swung into the drive, "hang onto your peter, Bob! Here we go!"

Janet met us at the walk to the front entrance. She was just ushering the president of the company and his wife into the house, where her husband was taking over, when we drove up. She smiled super-politely and came down the walk. She motioned to a college-age kid in dark pants and a white shirt who had just finished parking the president's car on the grass next to the garage off to our left. He came running.

The house reminded me of a college dormitory. Not that it was that shapeless or anything, but it was huge and brick and it had a white marble portico in front. It had a slate roof and gabled windows and ivy growing up the sides.. . the whole bit.

Janet was wearing a gauzy shift of muted blues and greens over a white crocheted bathing suit that, in Gary's whispered words, was "skimpier yet." She treated us with exaggerated grace. "Raymond, would you park the gentleman's car, please?"

"Certainly," the kid said like a trained parrot

"So glad you could come," Janet told us as Gary got out of the car and found he'd automatically taken the keys out and looked silly for a minute and then gave them to Raymond. To me it looked like Janet wanted to impress Raymond with how "social" she was. That was a funny thought It also looked like she was out to give every guy in the place a hard-on. She looked past me, half acknowledging my existence and half not, but I felt she was getting a big charge out of teasing me with those tits that made her halter look like a band-aid over a pair of watermelons. The crocheting was thickest at her nipples, and you couldn't really see them through it at all, but it thinned out around the rest of her tits and all that soft, pale white flesh showed through.

Then she turned to lead us into the house. I swear she did it just so Gary and I would stare at her ass and look at each other and shake our heads and think, "Christ! What a piece!" Her shift was transparent, really, and under it was this piece of white crocheted cloth looking like a pair of birds' wings. It came to a point where it cut like a piece of rope up into her ass crack, and the bird's body would have been her cunt, which bulged down between her legs. It fanned out up her crack and across her ass cheeks, leaving the bottoms of her cheeks exposed. The wing-tips trailed off at the points of her hip-bones, where the front piece of the bathing suit was joined to the back piece with rings. I wouldn't have been surprised to learn that those rings were gold. Anyhow, she seemed to walk with a swagger, half-prancing almost, like a little girl, and that swiveled her hips and threw the weight of her buttocks back and forth almost as if she was juggling them for us. We stared for a few seconds at her ass, and the way the creases between the bottoms of her ass cheeks and the tops of her thighs bunched up and flattened out, first one, then the other, then one, then the other . . .

She turned around and grinned this shit-eating grin at us as she introduced us to her husband. He was a distinguished, tweedy-looking type, about my height, with thinning gray hair that I guess you'd call distinguished, and a lean, athletic-looking face and body-at least for a man of his age. He was wearing a blue smoking jacket and tan double-knit trousers. He sort of smirked as he shook hands with us. He knew the score. What he actually said was, "I'm Hamilton Jamieson. Pleased to meet you." But what he meant was, "I know you don't want to take your eyes oft my sexy-looking wife's body to shake hands with me, but-those are the breaks! She's my wife and it's my place and it's my food and my booze and my band. Look and wander and swim and eat all you want And while you're at it, eat your hearts out!" I didn't dislike the guy, though. I would have been the same way if I'd been in his position. Probably worse.

We went through the house past the kitchen where a couple of cooks were at work and followed the rest of the crowd out into the back yard. There was a flagstone terrace with a lot of wrought iron tables and chairs scattered around, and then the swimming pool off to the right, and a "rose garden off to the left. The "bar" was set up right outside the back door on the terrace, so you could pick up your drinks first thing. Besides the bartender there were a couple of uniformed waitresses wandering around with trays of hors d'oeuvres and taking orders for drinks. A five-piece rock band was setting up by the poolside. There were fifty or sixty people there-most of the people in the office-and it was really a funny mixture. Gary and I got ourselves a couple of Chevas Regals on the rocks and wandered over to the pool. We'd brought our bathing suits-Gary had them in his briefcase-but we hadn't decided whether to go swimming. Seven or eight women and about a dozen men were swimming or standing in the shallow end of the pool talking or sitting on the edges or diving off the diving board. Gary nudged me as Nancy, wearing a plain blue bikini "more decent" than Janet's, but not much, trotted her ass out to the end of the diving board and bounced up and down. "See?"

I saw, all right. I wouldn't have thought Nancy could have looked better in a bathing suit than she did in clothes, because as I said before, she was a little chubby-mostly in the ass and thighs-but the sight of all that ass flesh bouncing and jouncing and rolling around inside her bathing suit really turned me on, and I had to admit that the rest of her figure was pretty damned nice. "Yeah," I admitted. Then I whispered to him, "You ever get anything off her?"

"Nope. Asked her for a date once but she turned me down. But I really wish she hadn't. Who knows? Maybe she does too. I mean, I know she has dates and things, but not so many. She's just so damned New York Businesswoman that she scares guys off, I think. So what can she do at night but sit home and jerk off?"

"I wish you wouldn't say things like that," I told him. "You're going to give me a hard-on."

He laughed.

Just then Janet and her husband passed by with drinks in their hands on the way to the pool. "'I guess just about everybody's arrived," she was saying, "and Raymond can show the others in. I think I'm going to take a dip." They stopped by the side of the pool about ten feet in front of us. "Do you want to change into your suit and join me?" It was strange to see the way she put her arm around her husband's waist and leaned up against him like a sapling that needs a strong stake to support it.

"Yes, I suppose so." Hamilton turned around and glanced back toward the house. Janet did the same, and noticed us standing behind her.

"Would you two like to go for a swim?" she asked us. "Did you bring your bathing suits?"

To me she sounded like she was challenging me, the "dirty old man" (even though I was only twenty-five) to get into the same water with her. She looked like she believed I'd come right into my bathing suit, right into her pool, at the very thought.

"Yeah," Gary said. "I'd like to, anyway. Where can we change?"

Just then Jill, who'd been sitting nearby with a couple of friends, got up and came over to Janet. "I think I'd like to go swimming too." Janet smiled at Jill, who was wearing a slinky orange dress and carrying a little canvas bag, which she dangled before her to indicate that it contained her bathing suit. "Where can I change?"

Janet looked at the bag as though a little miffed that it couldn't possibly contain a bathing suit any more modest than hers. "Any of the upstairs bedrooms," she said to all of us at the same time. And then, as Jill turned to go, she added, "Just be sure you keep the little boys' and little girls' rooms separate!" She chuckled snidely, as though changing in the same room with us would be the last thing Jill or any other woman would want to do.

Jill kind of laughed and we all walked off together. When we got up to the second floor landing there were two doors facing us, right away. Jill was a little drunk already, and she'd caught Janet's snide tone, and when she saw the two doors she said, "Okay, which side do you guys want?" in a sarcastic tone meant to mock Janet. All of a sudden I felt as if Jill was really a pretty nice person, although I'd tended to think of her as hardened and self-centered. Why I didn't know.

Then Gary said the cleverest damned thing I'd ever heard him say. "I'll take the left and Bob can take the right."

Jill giggled and swung her canvas bag ground in circles like a lifeguard swinging a whistle. "And which one do I take?"

"That's up to you," Gary told her. I thought he was really being suave. I mean, he sounded as if the whole thing really was just a big joke. I never could have done that

Jill looked us over for a second and kind of snorted and shook her head if we were her younger brothers or something. She had a reputation for using foul language. She'd grown up in the Bronx, and her-speech still reflected it. Now she grabbed us by the cocks with some of the nicest dirty language I ever heard. She was drunk enough that she stumbled a little as she waved her hand in front of her face and took off for the door on the right. "Fuck it! We're all big boys and girls. We don't need Janet's kiddie-shit I'm changing in here. You change wherever you want to-here, there, anywhere."

Gary and I stood there looking stunned for about half a second. Then Gary took off after her, pulling me along behind him. "I guess it wouldn't be too flattering to you if we chose to change in another room, now would it?"

She looked back as though even she appreciated how sharp he was being. She opened the door and we all went into the bedroom and I managed to swing the door closed behind us. There was a connecting door in the right front of the room, and when we walked up to the windows to look out over the lawn and drive, we could see the other bedroom through the half-open door on the other side of a bathroom. "That must be Janet and Hamilton's room," she observed, noticing that the room we were in was tidier and more sparsely furnished, like a guest room. She threw her canvas bag onto the bed and turned her back to me. "Could you unzip me?"

My rocks just about fell out. My hands were shaking so badly I could barely get a grip on her zipper. "All we're doing is changing into bathing suits, right?" she reminded us.

"Right," Gary stammered. He put down his briefcase on the bed and opened it up, not taking his eye off Jill for a second, and fished out our bathing suits.

I drew Jill's zipper down slowly, carefully, slitting the cloth of her dress open like a banana peel. Blood pounded in my temples and I felt dizzy. I'm sure she felt my excitement like she would have felt an earthquake, but she just sucked in her cheeks as if she was very amused and hunched her shoulders forward to slip the dress off over them.

I got the zipper down to the bottom, right above her waist, and then suddenly the slinky orange material was in a puddle on the floor around her feet She was so tiny, and had such a skinny rear end, that the broad band of her bra with its four hooks was the first thing that caught my eye.

"Thank you," she said, and stepped out of her dress and bent over to pick it up. Her curly red hair flopped down out of sight, and her freckled shoulders, and her slim back with her ribs showing slightly, and up popped her rear end. Between the tight little mounds of her ass cheeks under her orange bikini panties her ass-bones stuck out, and that made the valley between them all the deeper. In my mind I took a hundred photographs of her every second from then until.. . .

I traced the valley between her legs ran all the way from the faint indentation of the crease at the front of her cunt down to where her slit closed in a loop and she seemed very hollow, on up to where her ass crack came to a close above the waistband of her panties.

Gary slipped off his shirt. I staggered back a step and groped for my shirt buttons. Jill stood up and flipped her dress onto the bed. Gary's shirt followed it and then she took a step over to him and turned her back to him, grinning sideways at me. "Would you unhook my bra, please?"

Gary put a hand on her shoulder. I could see he was pressing his luck, but he managed to make it a brotherly kind of pat and Jill let him do it. Then he unhooked her bra. The band gave a sharp little snap when the last hook let go. There was a lot of weight straining at those huge cups. I didn't know how I was going to be able to change into my bathing suit with Jill around, because I had the hottest hard-on of my life. All the strip shows and spread mags in the world couldn't measure up to an ordinary woman changing into a bathing suit.

Jill's bra slid down her arms and she wiggled her shoulders to shake her tits free of it. She caught it in her fingers as it slid off and tossed it onto the bed with her dress. She took a step away from Gary and turned around to face us, grinning all the while with this teasing, reproving sort of grin. Her tits hung huge on her chest, swaying tautly and jiggling in quick little ripples like a W, made out of a pair of hps. Only the shapes, perfect as they were, were under water, and their image was rippling.. . .

Her aureoles were wide splotches right in the centers of her udders, the color of warm orange-pink frosty lipstick against white-sand-beach backgrounds of pillowy flesh. The depth of her cleavage was startling. I stood there mesmerized by the sharp darkness of its shadow.

I got my shirt off and now it had to be either my pants or my shoes and socks. I couldn't take my pants off, so I bent over to untie my shoes, but at the same time I had to crane my neck up to keep my eye on Jill.

She laughed at me. "I bet you don't get so much," she said half sympathetically. "I can tell you're all hot and bothered. I'll tell you the truth-in the crowd I run around with this would be no big thing." She hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her panties and her hands slid down the sides of her legs to the floor. Her tits ballooned out at me.

"I hope you don't mind my staring," I said lamely.

Gary winced and I could tell he wished he'd never known me. But Jill just shook her head and stood up straight again and chucked her panties onto the bed with the rest of her clothes. "Don't be stupid," she laughed in a friendly sort of way. "Males are attracted by the sight of naked female bodies, and that's all there is to it." She picked up her canvas bag and loosened its drawstrings casually. I got one shoe off and started on the other while I devoured the vista of her rich red pubic hair curling up in a silky triangle puff, and splitting the triangle from its center to its bottom, the scrolls of her cuntlips parting around the slitted well of her hole. In my mind somebody was screaming, "Jump on her! Throw her back onto the bed and rip her legs open and plow it right up into that wet, sucking, animal hole!" But the screaming was just part of the whole screaming of my body, and I'd learned so well not to listen to that.. . I just squatted there taking off my shoe and staring. Besides, Jill deserved better than that.

Gary slipped his pants off and he had a tremendous erection that made his jockey shorts look like a tent, but he stripped them off anyway, and just like he would have done if he'd been alone, grabbed his bathing suit and pulled it on, tucking his erection into it neatly. Jill hardly seemed to notice. She fished her bikini out of the bag and shook out the orange and green flower-print bottoms and halter, one in each hand. She grinned mischievously at us and turned slowly around like a model on a revolving platform, giving us one more view of her petite form with its slim hips and girlish ass cheeks and slender legs and torso and big, firm tits. She fluffed up her cunt-hairs a little with her fingertips as she revolved back around to face us, and for just a second I could see the ridges of her inner lips hanging down like edges of pink oyster, looking, like they'd once been deep in the ocean. . . .

She put her halter on first. She held its cups in her hands and lowered her tits down into them, then leaned back up to press them up against her. She shook her head to throw a few wisps of hair out of her eyes as she reached up behind her to fasten it.

I stood like a stork on one foot to pull off a sock. All I could think of was that pursed slit of warm, ripe cunt. How I wanted to bury my face in it and fuck it with my tongue and spread it open and just stare at it and have her pull down my pants and suck my cock and cram it into her! But in three seconds she'd pulled an obscene piece of cloth over her treasures, and that was the end of it. She tugged at the seams of the suit to smooth it down and fit it over as much of her as it covered-which wasn't much-and slapped her ass with gay finality when she was done. She looked to Gary. "Well, at least we're ready." She glanced at me. "Do you want us to wait for you, or shall we go on ahead?"

I could hear someone moving up the stairs or in the hall. I couldn't leave that room until my erection was down. Gary was cleverly covering his with a towel as it subsided. "Go ahead," I mumbled. "I.. . . "

Jill flipped a wrist at me, as if to say, "Don't bother to explain," and headed for the door.

I slumped numbly against the bed facing the windows as Gary opened the door and they went out

"Hoho!" I heard Janet exclaim from the hall. "Could it be?"

"Could what be?" Jill replied icily.

The sound of Janet's voice shocked and excited me, and the tone of Jill's reply made me suspect that she'd done what she'd done mostly, in some crazy way, to spite Janet. I could tell there was some really bad blood between them. I wondered why, but I never found out. She and Gary went on down the stairs and I heard the door to the adjoining room open. I sat there on the side of the bed with my shirt and socks and shoes off and my cock aching, listening to Janet cross her room and suddenly seeing her appear in the doorway to the bathroom. The sight of her in her almost-nothing bathing suit with her soaking hair sticking to her head and neck and shoulders and beads of water running down across her flesh in hesitant little trickles, jolted me with such desire that I thought I'd go crazy.

Now that there was nobody else around she didn't have to be polite to me. "So-you caught a little sight of Jill's skinny ass and big titties," she jibed. "And now you're all excited." She made another one of those faces as though she'd tasted something bad. "You're really something." She leaned against the doorframe and folded her arms. "I just came up to get some suntan lotion.. . and take a shit. I do hope you'll excuse me."

I stared blankly at her.

"I bet you're so weird you get turned on watching me take a crap."

She didn't say anything else. She just went over to the toilet, the front of which I could barely see from where I stood, and whipped down her bikini bottoms and sat.

I didn't know what I was doing. All I knew was that I could only see her from her bare thighs down to where her bikini bottoms lay coiled around her ankles, and that wasn't enough. I got up and walked like a robot to the bathroom door.

She sat there and I watched the way the toilet seat cut into the fattish flesh of her thighs and ass, and the way a startling shock of mossy brown hair burst up out of the juncture of her inner thighs and her pubis. After a few seconds came the tinkling and plopping sounds from within the toilet I'd stooped so low that I was just plain nobody.

After a minute or so she reached out and slapped the toilet paper roll and tore off a handful of paper and wiped her ass. I stared at the parting of her cuntlips as she spread her legs. Such a lush, forbidden paradise.

She got done wiping her ass and got some more toilet paper and wiped her cunt. The lips pushed up and apart as she wiped one, two, three times, turning the wad of paper around at different angles. I couldn't take my eyes off her cuntlips as they flared to bare her pale, pink, luscious insides.

She started to drop the paper between her legs into the toilet and then suddenly changed her mind and thrust it out at me with a sneer. "Here! Here's a present for you! Take it home and jerk off with it!"

I almost vomited. I grabbed the doorknob and slammed the bathroom door so hard I thought I'd tear the wall down. For a few seconds everything was red and anger and a whole burst of bitterness and hate against the world blotting out everything. I wanted nothing more than to cram my cock into Janet's mouth; to ram it down her throat; to bang away at her cunt and make her kiss my ass. Reels of pornographic revenge-fantasies played through my mind.

I heard her moving around in the other room, opening dresser drawers, and then she walked back to the bathroom door and opened it with exaggerated softness. She stood hanging onto the handle, half leaning on it, with a hard, nasty look on her face that said, "I've got your number." She had a tube of Coppertone in her left hand. She dropped it and let go of the doorknob with her right The stony hardness in the lines of her face broke, and though I knew it was all just bait, just a lure, that there was a hook in it someplace with a sharp barb, my body flooded with excitement at her sultry, seductive smile. For just a few seconds I thought she might really be human.

Then she started in. "Poor, poor Bob," she cooed. "Can't get a piece of ass anywhere. Has to sit around and jerk off." Her hands rested on her waist and then began slipping tentatively down over her hip-bones. Her fingers reached the metal rings at the sides of her bikini and hooked into them. "Well, poor Bob, how'd you like me to give you something to jerk off about for the next month?"

She pulled out on the rings, stretching the crochet-work down tightly across her pubis and releasing a tiny puff of hair from beneath its waistband. "You could even jerk off now, if you wanted to," she grinned wickedly, staring at the throbbing lump in my pants. "I wouldn't mind." She bent slowly from the waist and held her arms stiff and her hands traveled to the floor and took her bikini bottoms with them. She straightened up and spread her legs and hooked her fingertips into the outer lips of her pussy and curled them in to get a grip and pulled the lips up and out. "Come on, you poor sucker!" she snarled. "Take out your meat and beat it! That's what you want to do, isn't it?"

Now that she had me hooked right by the balls she could get nasty again. She knew I couldn't help myself.

I unbuckled my belt and unsnapped my fly and unzipped it. With my eyes still glued to the pale lavender-tan of her inner lips and clit, I pushed my pants and my underpants down together.

My cock caught on the waistband of my underpants on the way down and then snapped free and slapped back up against my belly with a plopping sound. I have a pretty good-sized cock-one of Brace's buddies once measured it at over seven inches hard, and it's good and thick-and when Janet saw it she gave a derisive smirk, as though it was a nice cock, but it was really a shame it had to be wasted on an ass-hole like me.

She pinched her clit between her cuntlips and wriggled it back and forth and started to get excited. I could tell she was getting hot holding all this power over me, but it didn't matter why. The sight of her getting hot drove my hand to harder and faster pumping. I staggered back and leaned against the bed with one hand.

She pursued me. The bed was a low four-poster, and she came over to stand next to it, about three feet from me, gripping one of the slender foot-posts for support. The post had a roundly pointed knob on top that made it look like a long cock or a dildo, and when she wasn't leaning against it she was running her hand up and down it like she was jerking it off. "Bet you'd like me to jerk you off," she taunted. "Or suck you off, or let you fuck me. No chance! I wouldn't let you lay one of those filthy hands on me if my life depended on it!"

No matter what she said now, it turned me on. Just her talking about jerking and sucking and fucking drove me wild. But the lingering tangle of shame and degradation in the pit of my stomach kept me from coming. I would latch onto the sight of her tits flopping around on her chest, or of her cunthole, which she opened wide and shoved two fingers into, or of the firm, jiggling bounce of the bottoms of her ass cheeks that tantalized me from behind the arch of her legs, and I would feel that gripping tension that says you can't help it, you're going to shoot, it's coming now . '. .

But every time I felt the come rising up out of the roots of my manhood like a column of mercury under a blazing sun, the shame and degradation of it all descended on my groin like a cold ice-pack, and I quivered with impotent frustration. I whacked away desperately at my poor cock, trying at least to prove that I was virile, trying to prove it in the face of a woman whose bitter brown eyes and acidly curving lips kept telling me I'd be better off as a eunuch.

Janet sensed my problem. She gave a guttural grunt from deep in her throat and then threw her head back and cackled. She kept her hand rubbing in little circles over her clit and climbed up onto the bed. She grabbed a post

The post reached about three feet above the mattress, and right away I could see what she was going to do. Its prick-head knob was just a little bigger than the head of my cock, and now she stood up and edged back toward the corner of the bed, backing over it, getting up on her tip-toes to let it slide forward over her ass-hole and up into the opening of her pussy. "This bedpost is probably a better fuck than you are," she said. She pulled her cuntlips up and out again to let me see its dark, polished hardwood sinking slowly, carefully into her dilating slit

I crawled up onto the bed right underneath her. The sight of her muscles stretching and relaxing and gripping and making the shiny wood wet had me going. "Lie on your back," she commanded. "I don't want you shooting all over the bedspread." I did as I was told. "Now just watch this pole reaming up my cunt, and watch my clit and my tits and my fingers while I get myself off, and maybe you'll be able to get something out of that poor old prick of yours." Her clit lanced up out of its folds of flesh like a spearhead jabbing at the bedpost's shaft, which now probed four inches up her. "Come on, you pitiful mother-fucker," she almost shouted, "let's see some cream!"

I sensed that things had changed; that she was on the spot now. If she couldn't make me come, that would mean she wasn't as hot a sex bomb as she thought she was. After all, a wretched, sex-starved baby like me . . . I should have come in my pants just at the thought of her. So she wanted me to come, and she was trying her damnedest to make me.

That got me off. That and the way she squatted down on the post and slid back up and squatted down again, and whipped her fingertips up and down, back and forth, over her clit.

For a split second I had a horrible fantasy. If I kicked out and knocked her legs from under her the bedpost would skewer her right up the middle. She'd scream and the hardwood would tear up into her insides like a spear and burst her wide open. Maybe it would even kill her. But the horror of it was too much for me, and the fantasy vanished. Instead I saw her groaning on the tip of a huge, dark prick, like a horse's.

This time the heat was really on. The mercury in my loins boiled at the sight of Janet's hair swirling and jouncing wildly over her shoulders and across her face, of her mouth twisted up in grim concentration, of her tits like two white water-balloons floating stormily above me, their pale nipples flushed and hard; of her fingers working and her hips squirming and her thighs going tense and relaxing. The sounds of the bed creaking and her little squeals and gasping breaths and my hand straining at its task, making little clicking noises of gooey secretions in loose skin, blended into a gathering crescendo. The muscles of my forearm were rock-hard and aching for relief when Janet mashed down mercilessly on her clit with her fingers and squatted ferociously on the bedpost and stole a long, lingering look at my cock and got off.

It was that stolen look at my cock that finally did it for me. I knew she wasn't seeing my cock, just a cock, but that didn't matter. It was a big, healthy, excited male cock. It was a good cock, and Janet liked good cock.

I shot up my chest almost to my chin. The release was delicious, searing, explosive, total. That real live semen splatting over my flesh was proof of whatever had to be proved, and for an instant I felt an uplifting surge of triumph.

But the minute the overpowering sensations of ejaculation began to ebb. I plummeted down a dark mine-shaft of hopeless self-hate and hit the bottom like I'd jumped from a twenty-story building.

Janet saw that in my face and that got her off even more. A flitting shadow of the fantasy of kicking her legs from under her returned and departed. I should want to kill myself, for Christ's sake!

Janet squirmed and writhed to the conclusion of her self-indulgence. I lay on the bed beneath her, unable to take my eyes from her but revolted at the sight

When she was done she slid off the bedpost and got down off the bed and rubbed her pussy a little and went to get her bathing-suit. She didn't say another word. She just slipped the suit on and, without even looking at me again, picked up her tube of suntan lotion and walked out

I cried. Honest to God. I cried. I got up sobbing and went to the bathroom and wiped the come off myself and splashed cold water on my face and dried it off and went back and sat on the bed. After a few minutes I realized that people would be missing me. I managed to get my bathing suit on and stumble downstairs. When I got there Janet was sauntering around among the guests arm-in-anh with her husband, once more playing the gracious hostess.

I dove into the pool, all the way down to the bottom, and I wanted to stay there.