Chapter 9

Escorting Lillian to the subway was a turning point in my young life. Straws can be placed one by one upon a camel's back until it finally breaks. But I was more like a donkey before its legs buckle.

I escorted Lillian to the subway station, bought her a ticket and waved after her as she hurried to catch a train. She'd given me a gentle loss on the cheek at the barrier and her last words had been, "Don't worry. I'll fix the night watchman's job." There was a jaunty spring in her step. She was no longer bothered by a hot and itchy pussy.

When she disappeared from sight I turned away from the barrier and found myself face to face with Carol.

My belly lurched. I mustered up a sickly smile to meet her accusing glare. "Hello, Carol."

"Who's that girl?"

I gestured airily. "A girl from the office."

"Do all the girls in your office kiss you?"

I frowned and tried to look unjustly accused. "Now wait a minute, Carol. Don't make a big scene out of nothing."

"She did kiss you!"

"On the cheek. Only a peck. It's ... sociable!"

"You've just left the office?"

"Working late," I confirmed.

"I've rung and rung," she snapped.

"We don't answer the 'phone after hours."

"We must talk, Mike," she said flatly. "Let's go to your pad."

"Dave's on leave. He's using the pad."

"I don't mind Dave hearing what I've got to say, It's terribly important!" She was quite capable of causing a scene in public. She was in a terrible mood.

"All right, Carol," I soothed, "But if Dave's busy you'll have to pacify him."

"Don't worry," she said grimly. "I'll deal with him." She held my arm with the possessiveness of Lillian.

Carol was sweet but sexually out of step with me. It's rarely possible to know if a girl is physically right the first time. It needs half-a-dozen sessions to form a sound opinion. I'd learned Carol was passable if I was very randy, and if there wasn't other pussy around, but as a regular screw she just wasn't in my league. But it's difficult to explain all this to a girl. Once they get the taste of hot cock, and get stars in their eyes, they can't listen to reasonable arguments. Carol was so highly strung and emotional I hadn't even tried to talk to her frankly. I'd simply faded out of her life. I hadn't seen her in six weeks. When she'd telephoned the office I wasn't there. Those times I'd unluckily answered the phone myself, I'd said I was busy and would ring back. In time, she'd have got the message and stopped telephoning. But escorting Lillian to the subway station was a turning point in my life. Carol happened to be at the same subway station!

"You haven't tried to give me the brush-off, have you, Mike?" She held onto my arm with fingers of steel.

"Don't be crazy," I blustered. "I've told you how it is. We're rushed off our feet. We're cutting discs for three albums. Then there's the publicity to send out to the provinces. I haven't even had time to crap."

"I was hurt," she confessed. "It's so long since I've seen you. The days have dragged!"

"I wanted to telephone. But it's been hell. Like now. I've just finished and I'm ready to drop. All I'm fit for is to curl up in bed."

"I won't keep you long, darling. But there's things we must settle." There was suppressed urgency in her, like she too had a hot, itchy pussy. She was almost dragging me along. She knew the way to the pad better than me.

She sighed with relief to find it empty. "Better lock the door," she suggested. She sniffed delicately. The smell of sweat, spunk and pussy-drool could have been cut with a knife. It was only twenty minutes since Lillian and I had walked out. "Somebody's been here," she said. Her nostrils quivered like a bloodhound's.

"Dave has a girl friend," I mentioned.

She crossed to the bed and examined the tumbled bed sheets. Her nose cringled. "Some women are so filthy! Look! You can see how she wiped herself!"

"Perhaps she was in a hurry."

"No decent girl behaves like that!" She stripped off the bed and remade it, changing the top sheet. "I'm not fastidious," she said. "But I do like to be clean."

"Cleanliness is a virtue," I said piously.

She eyed me thoughtfully. "It's been a long while, Mike," she said. It was a pleading invitation, as if she was saying. "Please, Mike. "Please screw me." My weakness is that I'm sensitive to other people's feelings, especially women's. She humbled her pride and asked me to screw her. I couldn't hurt her pride. Also, I had guilt feelings. I had given her the runaround. And my big, fat prick was twittering excitedly like an aviary of birds. I blundered. "I've missed you too, Carol," I said.

The next moment she was in my arms, rubbing her tits against my chest, one hand resting upon my bottom and the other in between us, grabbing the throbbing within my pants and caressing it.

"You're not too tired, are you, darling?" she coaxed, Her fingers frictioned my knob briskly.

Of course not, shouted my prick.

"Being with you excites me," I murmured. "Even though I'm exhausted, I want you,"

"I can tell," she said confidently. She increased her speed of prick-friction to make sure I didn't backslide, Without my being aware of it, we were drifting toward the bed.

Carol's a sexy piece of tail. There isn't anything that doesn't thrill her. She loves hot prick. But she loves it most of all in her mouth. She's a natural cock-sucker. That became increasingly evident during our love-making sessions. She favored her preference to a marked degree and our sessions ceased to be screwing sessions and became solely sucking sessions. Her cock-sucking obsession gave me no cause for complaint. A long, slow, suck-off can be more ecstatic than a straightforward screw. But the reason I'd given Carol the runaround was because of the way she sucked. It could have been just right for other pricks. But it was all wrong for my cock. It was lovely while she licked my Brownie, and sucked my balls. She tongue-washed my prick with a lusty joy that was exquisite stimulation. And when my knob was in her mouth, and she was swirling saliva around it, I couldn't fault her. But at the supreme moment, when I began to spurt, her timing went haywire. She brought me to climax as beautifully, if not better, than most girls. But her treatment of my prick during climax was all wrong. Orgasm is the fulfillment of all stimulation. The ecstasy of orgasm depends upon long, orgiastic spurtings. But that was where Carol failed. Her lust for spunk was the cause of her failure. She was too greedy. And she had lips and a mouth like a suction pump. She couldn't wait for me to spurt. She robbed me of the ecstasy of hot seed jetting up through my shaft and shooting gloriously into her mouth. Instead, she sucked monstrously, a fraction of a second before my prick muscles catapulted spunk out of my balls. It meant that I didn't shoot into her mouth. My spunk was sucked out of me. It was pleasurable. But I was deprived of that magnificent feeling of completeness every true orgasm should have. I corrected her. I explained it all carefully. She nodded eagerly and said she understood. But she couldn't get the timing right. When she licked me up, it was glorious. But every time I came, it was an anticlimax. Eventually, it became a disappointment. But by then she'd firmly established her preferences. It had become routine that we had three suck-offs to one screw. I remembered this as we fell on to the bed, our fingers stripping each other. Her breasts popped free from her bra as she pulled my prick from my fly. Our clothes melted away and we were embraced in the way she liked best, her pink love-lips panting expectantly under my nostrils while she held my prick with both hands and painted her mouth with its drooling knob.

I vaguely attempted to screw her, but she was too adroit. Without seeming to manage me at all, she got what she wanted; my head between her legs and my knob in her mouth. When she'd swirled her tongue around it a couple of times, me and my prick were one hundred percent in favour of continuing the activity.

She made herself comfortable and passed pillows down so I got comfortable too. We'd devised a system of lying conveniently close to be licked, while our hands were free to do other exciting things. She snuggled my prick in the cleavage between her breasts and massaged my knob in the soft, sweaty flesh while her tongue teased, licked and probed my Brownie. I wrapped my arms around her cheeky little ass and while my tongue tip probed the union of her love-lips, my fingers pried her buttocks apart and teased her Brownie. It was very pleasurable, lying leisurely, licking and laving each other, stimulating with exquisite sensations, and boosting ourselves higher and higher. The higher I was boosted the more wonderful my sensations. But despite my pleasure as my knob was beautifully licked, dissatisfaction simmered within me. And the closer I came to boiling point, the more apprehensive I became.

We climaxed together. She always arranged that. She'd had numerous little orgasms while I was licking her out, but she could always whip up response to my orgasm with a big orgasm of her own. We poised on the pinnacle of ecstasy. I was drunk on the taste of pussy. I had one love lip in my mouth and sucked it while I licked across the crown of her clit-bud. My knob quivered, my prick strained, gathering its resources to spurt, and her clit-bud gave a tiny hiccough and tried to climb right up inside my mouth. It was perfect until that moment.

And then she sucked!

She sucked like a demon. It was tremendous suction. She could have sucked a banana clean out of its skin. Her grandmother must have taught her to suck eggs when she was a babe in arms. She'd have drained dry the Pacific without taking breath!

My spunk was primed to spurt. A fraction of a second more and it would have jetted up through my shaft with deliriously hot fury. But she sucked first! My bewildered spunk was whirled up by her suction, was drawn up through my shaft before it knew what was happening, and was trickling down her throat before it even knew it had arrived.

Her licking had been so stimulating that I spurted copiously. But my last three or four spasms were an anticlimax almost too painful to bear. My sperm was sucked out of me! Even after I collapsed limply, she still sucked on greedily, absorbing my last few drips of drool.

She was dreamily satisfied. I wasn't. I felt as though she'd used a stomach-pump on my balls. We lay quietly for a time, my cheek resting on her wet, spread-open love-lips. Now my prick was flabby she'd crammed all of it into her mouth. It was a sorely disappointed prick, but it was content to curl up in such a moist, hot haven. Presently she slobbered my prick out of her mouth, sat up and held it with both hands. She worked on it delicately, a caressing arousal that would quickly get me in the mood again. "I've been wanting to be with you for so long," she said blissfully.

"Me too." I propped myself up on one elbow and strummed my fingers between her love-lips.

"I love your cock," she confessed. "I love its taste of spunk."

"Let's do it differently, next time," I suggested. "Let's screw. I love screwing!"

"If you want," she said with the air of a martyr. "But I did warn you. Now, it's happened."

My flabby cock uncurled and stretched itself. "What's happened?"

"What I warned would happen. I'm pregnant."

It took a few moments to sink in. I gulped. "Pregnant?"

"It's only to be" expected," she said calmly. She concentrated on my prick. It was coming on nicely, stubby and starchy. "I wanted to talk to you about it personally, Mike," she said. "I didn't want to talk on the telephone. And ... I was dying to see you!"

I felt faint. Are you sure?"

"It's six weeks," she said. "There's no doubt. I had a frog test."

It was all coming back to me. And- while cold shivers ran down my spine my big, fat bastard prick expanded and throbbed without a care in the world.

I remembered my last session with Carol. I'd already decided to give her the brush-off. But I was going easy and making this last session memorable. I wasn't happy. She'd sucked me off three times in a row, but rubbed me up again beautifully so I was ready to go again. She'd moistened her lips and opened her mouth.

"No," I'd panted. "Let me screw you!"

She'd looked up at me with big eyes. "But I've stopped taking the pill."

My prick was burning to probe her pussy. "There's no risk," I said.

"There's always risk. The way you screw, Mike, I'll have spunk so high up inside me it'll be running out of my mouth."

I want to fuck, stated my prick flatly.

"Don't you like screwing?" I asked Carol.

"Of course. But it's dangerous."

My artful fingers were steaming her up, and cunningly softening her resistance. "It's not dangerous. I'll pull out."

"But ... will you?"

"Of course."

"Suppose you don't? Suppose I click?"

Let me get inside that cunt, screamed my bastard prick.

"You've nothing to worry about," I reassured her.

"I wouldn't have an abortion," she'd said firmly. "I just wouldn't! How would you take care of that?"

Don't play around, Stupid, screamed my prick. Get a move on. Let me get inside. This suspense is driving me mad!

"I'd take care of you," I said. I must have been out of my mind. "And the kid too."

Carol looked down and fluttered her eyelids. "You mean ... you'd marry me, Mike?"

"Of course."

"I wouldn't take advantage of you, Mike. I wouldn't want you to feel trapped, or marry me because I was in the family way."

My prick was leaping in her hands like a wild thing. Her cunt, Man! it screamed at me. Inside her cunt!

"I wouldn't be trapped, Carol," I'd whispered. "It's what's been at the back of my mind for a long time."

She'd lain back then and spread her legs wide.

That was the scene I remembered and strangely, it was being repeated. My bastard prick was screaming. The cunt. Let me get inside her cunt!

"Don't feel trapped, Mike," she said. "I won't hold you to your promise if you don't want to marry me. But I do want the kid to have a name. That's the least you can do. Give it your name!"

The cunt, Man! screamed my prick. The cunt!

"We'll get married," I told Carol and my prick reared up triumphantly as she rolled over on her back and spread her legs wide.

It all seemed very different fifteen minutes later. I lay limply on her sweaty body with my limp prick squeezed tight between her clenched thighs.

"I knew I could rely on you, Mike," she said happily. She wrapped her arms around me in an affectionate embrace devoid of all sexy feelings.

My bastard prick had crept away leaving me to cope with all the trouble it had stirred up. The awfulness of everything swamped over me. Two girls I'd fixed to marry, a husband who was fixing to brand me in the newspapers as a Correspondent, and now the mother of my child! I made a tentative attempt to escape this new burden. I chuckled. "Did you think I wouldn't want to marry yon, Carol?"

Her arms around my neck squeezed me to her. "Not for a minute, darling. I know you meant what you said."

"But not all men are reliable," I pointed out. "I might have copped out."

"Not you, darling!"

"There was always the possibility."

"It never entered my mind, Mike."

"But just suppose ... ?" I licked my lips nervously. "Just suppose I'd changed my mind. Suppose I'd said I didn't want to get married?"

"You wouldn't, Mike. I know you."

"But ... just suppose!"

"Why worry about something that will never happen F' "I'm curious. How would you have reacted?"

"It would never have arisen, darling. If you were that sort of man, I'd have known by instinct. Then there wouldn't have been anything between us."

"But suppose your intuition had been wrong? What would you have done?"

For the first time she considered my question carefully. "A man like that would be a louse," she said. Her voice was loaded with disgust.

"Lots of men are louses. What do you do about them?"

"If a man is a louse, and takes advantage of a girl, she has to pay him back. She owes it to herself, and all other girls."

"How would you do it?"

"There're a dozen ways, darling. A girl isn't helpless. There're paternity orders. That makes him economically responsible for the child. That's only the beginning. There's breach of contract. There're a dozen ways a girl can repay a louse. By the time he wants to call quits and marry her, it's too late."

"Too late?"

"Well, the girl gets a lump sum granted by a judge, she's got a paternity order for the child, and she's got her liberty. She'd be mad to pass up all that and marry a louse. She'd make him sweat it out, earn the money to keep her and the child. She doesn't have- to do a thing!"

"You'd go through all that, Carol?" I asked. "You'd throw a man to the legal eagles?"

She was melting in my arms. "I wouldn't dream of doing it to you, Mike. I'd never have to think about it. You're not that type!"

I pinched her cheek affectionately, "What time is it, Mike?"

I told her. She swung her legs around off the bed, abruptly all agitation. "I'm late. I promised to meet Mother. I must rush, Mike. I'll see you tomorrow to fix everything."

I watched her dress moodily. Tomorrow! Another marriage certificate!

"Shall I call you at the office?" She tucked her breasts into her bra.

"No!" I took a deep breath. "I don't know where I'll he," I said lamely. "I'll meet you somewhere."

"Meet me here," she suggested. "Say ... seven o'clock? Then we can kiss and cuddle before we go to dinner and clinch our plans?"

"Fine," I said hollowly.

"Poor darling," she sympathized. "You're so tired. Don't walk me to the subway." She held my cheeks and kissed me on the forehead, starry-eyed and terribly happy. "You'll see, Mike. We'll be very happy!" She gave my limp pecker an affectionate farewell squeeze and hurried to the door.

"We'll get married later this month, Mike," she mentioned over her shoulder. "We don't want it to seem like a shotgun wedding, do we?"