Chapter 1

Lucy had fed on the fantasies of her new and handsome stepfather's strong, muscular body all day, picturing his knit trousers clinging to the bulky curve of virile meat between his legs, pretending she was her mother for just a few moments, feeling the fierce frustration of wanting so badly to touch and lick the sensuous hardness of it, and having no access to him.

But the young girl knew it would be different if he was hers, instead of her mother's. The fucking between them, if he belonged to her, would be total and honest, not ending abruptly at ejaculation, but subsiding into a deep throbbing as their bodies would lie with warm contact between the surfaces, his hard muscles and her soft, teen-age flesh seeming to melt, and their organs and blood seeming to float into one another, their bodies and minds rocking in unison.

The telephone in her room rang, and she reached across the bed to pick it up.

"Hello," the male voice on the other end said. She didn't answer, feeling foolish. Who could it be? "Is anyone there?" the voice went on, a deep voice like rose thorns dipped in honey.

"Yes. This is Lucy. Who is this?"

"Does it matter?" he said.

She blinked at his question.

"Do you feel all hot and bothered tonight, sweet little cock-teaser?"

The voice was being disguised, she knew that much. But somehow ... a familiar ring to it. A lump stuck in her throat.

"What do you want?" she blurted out.

"I want you to ask for it," he continued.

"Ask for what?" she replied, feeling dumb.

"You want to get fucked don't you?" he said, a tiny leer showing up in his voice now.

She became aware that she was sitting on her bed, wearing only her panties. The silly thought stroked at her mind, wondering if the voice could see her as well as talk to her. With her free hand she absent-mindedly reached up and brushed the nipple of one breast. She felt she had been walking along the shallow bottom of a swimming pool and had suddenly stepped into a deep hole. She could find nothing to say.

"Who are you? Do I know you?" she finally got out.

"Me? I'm the guy who's got the biggest cock you ever imagined in your young life, honey. I like cunt, especially when it's juicy and fresh like yours. Til eat your pussy for hours. Ill have you kicking your legs in the air. Ill chew on it and lick it, and slurp it up when it drips. That's who I am."

His words pressed heavily on her breasts and she sank more deeply into the pillows. Her knees began trembling and she let her soft, white thighs fall open. She could see some un-f aced great brute body on top of her, an immense cock jamming her mouth, being drippingly stroked down over her hard-nippled breasts, then lying heavily across her cunt.

"Silence, hmm?" the smooth voice went on in her ear. "Thinking about it? You want it, don't you? I can tell by how you're breathing. What woman doesn't want to be fucked? And you're a woman now, Lucy. You know that, don't you. You can feel that lately, can't you? No more little girl. A woman!"

Another ridiculous thought, and she didn't know where it had come from . . . wondering if nature had fashioned that thick pulsating organ called a 'cock' for just the simple purpose of snugly filling a yearning vessel called a cunt...?

Til give you ..." the man's voice went on, "all the things you think are dirty. I'll have you so hot you'll be licking the floor and sucking my feet, begging me to let you suck the head of my cock until it bleeds. You'll want to rub your eyelashes in the hair around my dick. You'll want to chew on my nipples while I suck on yours."

Her mind half on his words, half on her imagined pictures, Lucy began to rub her pussy through the moistening silk of her panties. She felt the hardness of the mound, the softness of the lips under it. The warm flush of pleasure charged her belly and her fingers started to move in circles over her clit, a pinky reaching down into the musty places between her buttocks. As she finger-fucked, she wondered for an instant if whoever it was at the other end of the line was masturbating. Her tongue slid from one side of her mouth to the other. But who was he? A force without a face. His voice took on a tone of suave calm. "Frigging yourself, little Lucy? Don't worry, youll have the real thing soon. The real thing. My nice, hot cock inside your sweet young mouth. Soon, Lucy. Soon.**

And then he hung up.

She felt as if someone had stuck a long rusty pin into her. She still held the phone in her hand; the only sound in the room was her deep breathing.

She lay back on the pillow and thought of cherries with whipped cream on them, of men's muscled thighs, and balls of all sizes and shapes. Of pricks erect and pricks soft. Of warm lava flowing in and out of her body from all entrances and exits, mouth, cunt, asshole, nostrils, ears.

She tried to put a face with the voice. Who could it have been? The tall skinny guy at school that was always ogling her legs? No. His voice was changing and he never could have pulled off that sexy monotone.

The owner of the bowling alley-a round-bellied little Italian with oily skin, who once fisted his balls and cock and juggled them at her? No. The voice was far too sophisticated. Mitch, her mother's new husband? Oh God! If it only could be true! No, that was too much to hope for. But why did she know that deep, smooth voice?

Could it be the mechanic at the gas station who had once, a few months before, waited in on her by mistake when she was sitting, legs spread, on the throne in the ladies room? No. Poor guy, he must still be blushing red to this day.

Suddenly she felt guilty, dirty. She shook her head, grabbed a towel and rushed out in the hall, ducking into the bathroom for a nice, hot, clean shower, wanting to wash her brain as well.

Lucy rubbed the towel beween her legs. The edge of the towel slipped between her cunt lips, and the girl felt a shudder flutter down her legs. She cupped the towel against the mound of her young, sweet-smelling cunt, pressing it firmly there. She closed her eyes and dreamed of the man in the room down the hall sucking that cunt madly, licking his tongue over it, into it, chewing at the now-swelling clit. She was fresh out of her shower, and on the bathroom door was- a full-length mirror. Her hair was wet, her young breasts firm and solid, over-developed for a fifteen-year-old. Her waist was slim and flat. A few more years would fill her hips out to a womanly flare. Her nipples were erect and brown. The towel draped down in white folds between her open legs. In the mirror she could just see a few wet hairs near the edge of her steaming pussy lips, curling out from under the flesh of her soft thigh, which was dampening with girl-juices. She dropped the towel and stared at her cunt. It was a broad and wide mound. She brought her hand back to the clammy pussy and put her index finger just above the inward curve of the mound, in the middle of her warm cunt, barely slipping the tip of the finger into the wet slit between the lips, and touching the bud of her clit, still picturing strong, white male teeth nibbling there. A burning warmth made her knees tremble.

She began to rotate her hips, pushing her cunt up against the moving fingers. She saw her hips pumping in and out in the mirror. Her stomach muscles undulated, her tits jiggled just enough to make the beads of water gathered there spill over her burning-tipped nipples. She caught a glimpse of the dirty-clothes hamper in the corner of the bathroom. She took her dripping finger out of her pussy and opened the hamper, looking in. She sorted, with - excited fingers, through the musky, dirty clothing, feeling her excitement building in the pit of her stomach. Finally she found what she wanted, and she pulled them from the pile.

It was a pair of her new stepfather's undershorts.

The fifteen-year-old girl put the shorts up to her nose and inhaled deeply. She could smell the sweatiness of the handsome man's youthfully strong body. She rubbed the material over her hot tits, sliding it down over her body until it rubbed between her legs, slid smoothly over her burning cunt. She held the white material against her cunt lips, masturbating herself with it, using the shorts under her fingers, rubbing them against the red and swollen clit in rapid strokes. Her head spun with the thought that her cunt was pressed against the spot where her new Daddy's cock and balls had been, where his hard-on must have swelled, where perhaps driplets of his come had oozed. Did he stick his big prick through the opening and fuck her mother while he was wearing them? The idea drove Lucy wild with excitement. She pictured him plunging that beautiful cock up her own asshole, and that tight asshole twitched with the hurting pleasure of that thought. She closed her eyes and imagined her thirtsy lips sucking furiously on his cock, her tongue lapping at his balls, licking, swathing, devouring all of him, his prick growing harder and bigger inside her hungry mouth, and the taste of his salty come in the back of her throat. And then, in her mind's wild imaginings, his athletic, muscled body smothering over hers, her inner cunt walls bathed totally by his enormous, throbbing prick-meat, pussy juice warming it all, clasping on his steady in-and-out cock strokes, draining that big tool to its bursting point. And her lips sucking at his, then up along his tanned cheek, then her tongue delved in his ear as he fucked her and fucked her and fucked her until her brain was a madly ticking bomb of explosive dynamite, ready to blow. The shorts were balled in her hand now and she was stuffing them into her cunt, taking all of them that would fit past the slippery gushes of her own Sowings.

The shorts were drenched and her hips were bucking wildly. In the bathroom's silence she whispered softly, "Oh fuck me! Fuck my insides out! Pump my cunt and blast your wad of come back into me until I choke on it!" Her teeth were gritted together, hissing out the beautiful dreams. A flutter of panic raced through her brain, as she almost hypnotically felt... FELT! that shot of his warm come explode inside her, blasting her with lovely come-heat, shocking her brain, convulsing her body into mad squirmings of lust.

Lucy's orgasm seemed to start at the top of her head and shake itself down inside her tits, through her straining belly, down her legs and back up them again, finally flooding out her cunt with a blast of hot ooze. Even then, when it was over, she pictured that ooze spreading hotly down over the full sacs of his balls, running down and into his asshole.

She tried to breathe but didn't want to interrupt the growing flow toward still another orgasm. Her hand flew faster between her thighs, her pelvis rocking up and down, and her belly clutched and released in another series of spasms. Her eyelids fluttered, nostrils snorting. A knock on the bathroom door! "Are you going to be long?" Lucy dropped the shorts as though they were contaminated. She recognized the voice calling through the door-it was Mitch!

"No-o!" She stuttered. "I'll be out in a moment." Panic seized her for the moment, all thoughts of sex dissipating. She dashed over to the hamper with the damning evidence balled up in her hands. But then a new feeling came over her: a calmness. She felt confident and relaxed. Lucy walked erectly over to the door and opened it. Mitch was standing there, waiting. He smiled and she yawned. The yawn came out stiff and false. She felt sure he knew.

"Hi, Lucy. Hard to-find a free John around here with you and your mother crowding traffic. Be more soon, too, what with your cousin Mary coming to live with us, eh?"

"Guess so," Lucy said humbly, and rushed by him.

"Fern . . . errr . . . your mother, I mean, is pretty good people to take the girl in. Poor kid, has no one else in the world." Mitch said it and closed the bathroom door behind him.

Fern had three problems. Two she knew about, one she didn't. The first problem was that her hotly throbbing pussy was moist and craving for attention, or to be more direct, yearning for the thick, stiff plunge of her husband's lengthy prick. His name was Mitch, and she had been married to him for two months, but she was already addicted to his torrid fuckings. She was thirty-six years old, but kept younger-looking by her first two husbands' money, in each case left to her upon their deaths. Mitch, her third husband, was ten years younger than she, and built like a Greek god. At the moment his hand was dallying between her legs under the table at lunch, adding to her cunty concentration.

Fern's second problem was that her niece, Mary, recently orphaned by her parents' death, was coming to live in the plush penthouse with them. The girl was seventeen, and Fern feared the farmgirl from Indiana might be a bad influence on her own fifteen-year-old daughter, Lucy.

And Lucy was the third problem, the problem Fern was unaware of. The teenager had a case of the mad "hots" for her new stepdaddy, Mitch. At the moment, she had some action going under the table too, teasing her bare toes against Mitch's ankles, while her fingers scratched at his knee.

Mitch was broke when Fern married him, but that lovely cock and his educated tongue working in her twat were all she asked of him in exchange for the life of ease she was giving him. She hadn't even taken his name when they'd been married, even though Greaves had once been a respected one in New York society. That had offended him, but he'd said nothing about it. He was at least smart enough not to complain, and he did know it was his body she was after, not his name and the glories of his past family. He had a fringe of golden curls on his muscular chest and a denser thicket of the same at his loins. His arms and shoulders were powerful, but she'd trained him not to use that strength unless she specifically called for it. His waist was slim but very powerful and his buttocks stood out in back almost like a woman's, so tightly packed with muscle were they. These thrusting muscles she called on regularly, and he never failed to use them to her satisfaction; although he knew little of matters of finance, he. did know how to fuck. And he had the tool for it. Fully hard, as it was now, his prick was close to ten inches long, proportionately thick, proportionately fitted with a heavy sac of balls. He was uncircumcised, again like the ancient Greeks.

Young Lucy's little pussy was brimful of juice and swollen with desire by the time lunch was over and her mother led Mitch away to the bedroom for her afternoon session with that lovely cock of his. On previous afternoons, Fern had sucked on it at great length, even though this too was an act which had been made distasteful to her by her former, demanding husbands. But it was so beautiful that once she'd started, she hadn't been able to stop for a long time. She'd sucked and chewed on it, heedless of his thrashings, gorging herself on the cock she'd bought with her money. The last time she'd gone too far, been too drunk, and it had resulted in an ejaculation in her mouth. She'd berated him for that, and it had cured her of the need for fellatio again for a long time. Naked, he approached her again, and she saw that she had already excited him to the point where a drop of clear seminal fluid was oozing from the mouth of his big, upright prick. She excited him further by allowing him to nuzzle at her ear and rub his cock against her hip while he unbuttoned her robe. She ran her hand over it with a light, fluttering caress, and she enjoyed his eager pantings as he got his soft, well-trained hands inside the robe and onto her naked breasts. She turned her head to look in the mirror as he slipped the robe off her shoulders, and the view was every bit as thrilling as his touches. This was how things should be, with a gorgeous man attending worshipfully to the needs of an even more gorgeous woman. She made the scene even better by saying, "Get down on your knees to take off my panties, darling."

He gladly did so. She ruffled his hair as he rolled them, then drew them down, pressing his warm lips to her smooth white flesh as he went. She twisted her hips and placed a finger on her left buttock when he had the panties down to her knees, and she said, "Do you think I'm putting on some weight here?"

The downward course of the panties was at once forgotten, and he was kissing and fondling that perfectly formed mound of flesh, and ardently saying, "Your ass is just perfect. All of you is, and you never gain an ounce. Fern, you're the most beautiful woman in the world.''

"If that's an ass," she said, bumping it harder against his face, "it makes you an ass-kisser, doesn't it? And that's not a very nice thing for a man to be."

"Fd be an ass-kisser for the rest of my life, with an ass like this to kiss. I want to be just that. Let me be that, Fern. I adore you so."

"Mmm. But you'd rather kiss my pussy, wouldn't you?"

"Yes. Oh, God, I can't get enough of that. Not ever!"

Thus reminded of her mood, he quickly took her panties off, coming around on his knees before her as he did to cover her black-thatched loins with eager kisses. She finished her drink and enjoyed the combination of its cold heat and the liquid heat that was starting to flow in her pussy. She waited until she felt that first sweet tingle of tongue-against-clit before she ruffled his hair again and walked to the oversized bed.

There was a mirror above it, and she arranged herself artfully on her back with her hair like a dark halo around her lovely face and her shapely limbs gracefully outspread. In the mirror she watched him follow on his knees, gazing hungrily at the juncture of her legs. As he neared the bed, she drew up one knee to give him more than just a glimpse of pink and ready flesh, and he dutifully ignored it, hard as that was, and began with his lips on her knee.

Her breasts were perfect, just perfect. They were just large enough to be taken to her mouth, where she could savor the texture of her firm nipples with her tongue, but this was something Fern rarely did, for it stretched those lovely mounds just a bit too much, and she did not wish to break down their tissues just for the sake of a little added pleasure. She stroked and kneaded them lightly, though, while his kisses traveled in a zigzag pattern up her legs, and as his mouth approached her loins, her hands toyed down her body, sampling it here and there, enjoying this languorous lovemaking more and more.

Her hands were there to meet his mouth. Her red-tipped fingers splayed out and pulled back the delicately heavy lips of her vulva, presenting to him what was probably the most perfect cunt in the world. She had had cosmetic surgery here, too, for at an early age she had realized that a woman's cunt should be just as perfectly formed as her face. There were no flaccid tissues in her cunt, no loosely hanging lips, and with the sheath from her clitoris diminished by the scalpel, "-¦¦-. . ¦

she too could enjoy the benefits of the plastic surgeon's art. Opened out as it was by her ringers, it was ten square inches of the most sensitive flesh of one of the world's most beautiful women, and her adoring and very fortunate husband paid that flesh its due.

He began by smacking kisses over every bit of that ten square inches, seeking to set every nerve ending atingle, and succeeding at this. The loudness of his kisses was vulgar, but even Fern could enjoy vulgarity when she was firmly in charge of it. Then he licked her there all over, sliding his hands over her hips and under her buttocks as he did, and very obviously savoring the taste of her most feminine flesh. He rimmed his tongue about in the orifice of her vagina just a bit too quickly, and she mildly admonished him.

"Slowly, dear. Are you in a rush for something?"

*Tve got all the time in the world, for you," he said, and she smiled as he started again, nibbling at her lips with his, kissing her cunt, licking it.

A knock came at the door, but he didn't stop. She called out impatiently, "What is it?"

"Mr. Nestor on the phone," said Sarah the cook. "He says it's important."

Everything her attorney had to say was important, at least in his opinion. "Tell him I'm already involved in something more important than what he's got in mind. Tell him to call me later."

Fern quickly got back into the mood of things by using just one hand to spread her moistening cunt, and using the other to caress her breasts. She molded them with her fingers and plucked and tweaked at the dark coral nipples, and she scissored her legs and opened them wider for her young husband's cunt-lapping. The curly masculine head she saw in the mirror seemed to enhance her own loveliness, seemed to belong right where it was between her beautiful legs.

"Now show me how long your tongue is, Mitch," she said, and she came very close to coming when he quickly moved down and thrust several inches of warm, thick tongue up inside her vagina.

For the second time that afternoon, he had moved too quickly, but being sympathetic with his vast eagerness to please her, she did not admonish him again. His slurpings were very loud now, as he dipped his tongue into her hole at an increasingly frenzied pace, quite beside himself in his blind need to lick up and swallow all he could of her sweet, musky sex juices. At the same time he was bumping her clit with his nose and working his fingers into her haunches in such a way that she could have come at any time. She held back, wanting to make it a big one when it happened. It was easy for her to hold back, just as it had always been easy to feign having an orgasm when she'd served her time as the eager young bride of those foolish old men. She could go on for hours like this, hovering right at the ragged edge of an orgasm, existing in a world of fuzzy pink ethereal beauty where the problems of parenthood, visiting relatives, her investment program, were completely unreal. Only this was real, the hands wanting to possess her, the tongue trying to devour her, and the totality of pleasure that she so richly deserved there in her bed, high above the city and its masses.

He was panting with the prolonged effort, but still as avid as ever to please her. She liked the feeling of his hot breath rushing through his nostrils to further sear her scalding tissues and she wanted to feel his tongue in her vagina longer, deeper. She mentally toyed with the idea of asking her doctor if cosmetic surgery could be used to lenghten his tongue, but she knew it was impossible. Furthermore, it was unnecessary, for his tongue was now more than good enough to bring her to orgasm, and what more than orgasm could a woman ask?

He was getting tired now, but more importantly, she was getting a little tired of holding back. "Suck on my clit now," she said, and took a handful of his curls to help guide his mouth up there.

It felt ready to quite literally burst. He encircled it with his lips and sucked, greatly increasing that feeling of impending explosion, and gently laved the rigid little digit with his tongue. She let her orgasm begin to flow. She was even more beautiful in the mirror now, made so by the roseate glow of her complexion, the complexion of a woman who is being thoroughly loved. Sensing the bursting in her, Mitch increased the swirlings of his tongue and waggled his head from side to side so that his lips burrowed deeper in the overflowing pink trench of her cunt. He was whipping her clit with his tongue now, and now as her orgasm burst forth in all its glory, she let him share in her good feelings. "Oh, yessss. Darling, that's wonderful. You're making me come with your lovely kissess, and oh, it feels so deliciously good. You may suck just a little harder, love. Yesss. You know what my pussy loves best, don't you? Dear sweet Mitch, it's so good now that I can hardly stand it. Right now! Right now I am right at the peak, right up there in Heaven, love. Ahhh. Yes. Yes, lick it all over now and let me down easy, easy. Mmmmm. Sweet man. Lick it all up, dear, it's all yours. And I'll still be all slippery and nice for you to slip your wonderful big cock in me. Ahhhhh. Ahhh."

She relaxed, letting her feet slip off the edge of the bed, stretching lazily. He remained where he was, catching his breath, with his cheek laid against her inner thigh to wring the last few drops of pleasure from her orgasm with his warm breath on her very open vulva. Fern always liked to have at least one orgasm every day, and this had been the first of this day for she'd been too hung over that morning to start with sex before she got out of bed. Waiting until early afternoon had been trying on her, but now she was glad she'd waited. The long anticipation had made her orgasm that much better, and of course, the waiting had made Mitch that much more eager to please her. Now he would want to fuck her, and although it would be most pleasant to have his cock in her, it would also ruin this mood of total, luxurious peace she was experiencing. She decided it would be better for both of them to wait until evening and start anew.

She lay there, basking in contentment, and when he began to move, she said, "Darling, I've worked tip a terrible thirst. After you wash your face and brush your teeth, be a dear and make me another martini."

"Sure, honey," he said, on his feet now, looking down at her hungrily, although his cock had for the moment deflated. As soon as he'd gone into the bathroom, she curled up on her side and went to sleep.