Chapter 13
I don't know bow long I lived in Darla's home. The days and nights were one endless blur of whiskey and screwing, with damned little eating. Somewhere along toward the end, the kids stopped coming around because we were getting too sloppy drunk. Angel and Kent were involved in sex, not with liquor, but as Darla and I drank more, sex wasn't as important to us. I don't mean we just knocked it off; we didn't. We made it with each other, in our more lucid moments, doing everything that two women could do, using vibrators and things like that.
But more and more, we clung to the bottles, passing out on the couch or a bedroom, waking with the whips and jangles and freaked out of our heads until we could find another drink. We worked through all the bourbon and scotch. and ran out of gin later. Darla must have been left a bundle, because she had unlimited credit at the local liquor store, and when she could make it to the phone, she had a fresh supply of everything brought out.
She got sick before I did. I mean dog sick, mean sick, where she couldn't hold anything on her stomach, not even whiskey mixed with milk.
I didn't want to, but I called Hope House and talked to Dan. Not me, I told him, but Darla; if he could pick her up, maybe he could tell if she ought to be in a hospital.
In his slow, wise way, he said sure, he'd drive over and talk to her. I hurried to take a shower and unsnarl my hair before he got there; with a couple of stiff drinks under my belt and Dana's second best dressing gown on, I felt almost human; at least I could fake it through and show him I was still okay.
I was strong enough to help him carry her to the car and stuff her limply inside. Darla was in bad shape, and I guess I wasn't fooling him about myself, either.
"Patti," he said, "how long can you make it like this? It has to end sometime, you know. Why don't you come on in with us?"
Shaking my head, I said, "Uh-uh; there's plenty of whiskey left in the house, and she asked me to take care of the place for her. If I run out before she gets back, why I'll--I'll just move on. Besides, nobody wants me back at Hope House--not Janet or Mark or Johnny, for sure. Maybe not you, either." My mouth was already getting dry and I could sense a weakness in my knees, but I did my damnedest not to show that.
His smile was easy and soft. "We all want you back. Try and take care of yourself, Patti. Call me before you get really sick."
See? He didn't lecture me or anything like that. He tried to be my friend, but I wasn't having any just then. I was making it on my own, I thought, and Patti Cooper didn't bet anyone for anything. When he drove off with Darla, I wobbled back into the house and locked all the doors, then made it to the restocked bar.
I was alone, and nobody is more alone than an alky on a drunk. I could hear every echo in that house, and I walked from room to room with a bottle in my hand, looking for something; I didn't know what. Getting a grip on myself, I got back into the living room and sat on the couch. The bourbon burned my belly now, and my throat felt raw, but I fixed that with some icy beer from the case Darla had shipped in. She was a good kid, that Darla, and I hoped nothing would happen to her.
Resting my head on the pillow, I got my legs up and put the fifth of liquor on the floor beside the couch where I could reach it easily, propping it carefully so that it wouldn't spill. All boozers do their best to protect their supply. My eyes closed, and I started to drift, my feet and hands going all prickly numb.
There were the men, a long, faceless line of them--men with lean bodies, fat bodies, tall men and short ones; they had only one thing in common, their hard pricks. Damn it, I hadn't wanted it to be that way, not really. Maybe if I'd had a man who could take care of me, who wasn't up-tight about sex and dug it as much as I did, then everything would have been all right.
But even in my drunken stupor, I knew that wasn't so, that one man, no matter how virile, could never have satisfied me. I wanted so damned much from each of them, more than they were able to give me. There wasn't a perfect man; not for me. He would have to fit the composite I carried in my mind, and he'd have to match all the things my, body needed and craved.
Let's see, I dreamed he would need silver hair worn just a bit long, and he'd have a wide chest, a slow, knowing smile; my perfect male would own a powerful cock, knobbed strongly at the head, thick and long and almost constantly hard. His balls would be swollen with the pressure of semen, hanging bulged in a sack that was wrinkled and hairy--gray hairs.
My dream man would be ready to fuck at any hour of the day or night, willing to stick that glorious meat to me in any room of the house screw me on the kitchen table, in the shower, on the living room floor, anywhere. He would love to eat my pussy, and want me to go down on him so he could loose that delectable stream of semen into my hungry throat. He would make me a three way chick, cunt and mouth and ass-hole, and he wouldn't be jealous of me when I got the urge to fuck somebody else; instead, he'd be willing to share me with another man, or another woman.
Where the hell did such a man exist? Not in my first husband: Don had been young and strong, but only more or less willing. My sexual appetites had shocked him. And I guess Harry Tanis came nearest to fulfilling my needs, but close doesn't count, ,Harry was always interested in more kinky effects, getting farther out with each new adventure, wrapped more into himself than into me as a person, an individual.
Then there had been Will Landson, because I didn't count the transient males in between husbands. Poor old Will; he had been far too gentle, too tender for a bitch like me, and I had killed him.
I had screwed them all, young and old, rich and broke. No one man could ever match my hungers, or fit in with my freaky ideas. So of course I tried to collect a male harem, where each guy could give me something of what I needed, but they were all transients, passing in the night, most of them long gone and forgotten. They didn't leave me with much to remember them by.
My eyes blurred open and I fumbled for the bottle, almost spilling it, but clutching the neck fiercely and lifting it to my mouth. Swallowing hard, I poured some of the warm stuff down my throat and settled back to my nagging dreams.
There had been one guy--Mike Something. I lived with him for a month, I think. He picked me up in a bar and took me to his home, because I was ready as usual for a new and flaming affair. He was a year or two younger than me, and freshly divorced. I wondered why, since he seemed like a nice, clean kid, open faced and eager.
I wondered even more when he stripped and moved toward me as I lay on his bed. Mike had the biggest prick I ever saw, before or since. In my bed travels, I'd heard of cocks like the one he owned, but the stories had been put down as boozy delusions, as so many fairy tales. My eyes went wide in shock as I stared at his magnificent shaft. The thing was massive, huge in every sense of the word; it must have been almost ten inches long and probably three inches in diameter. The glans was a glaring red bulb that spread itself . hungrily, a clear droplet of pre-seminal fluid growing on its heavy, blunt tip. It was difficult to believe that such a live piece of meat was hung between a man's legs; it more rightly belonged to a stud horse.
Mike said hesitantly, "If you don't want to try it, I'll understand. That's why my wife left me; she couldn't take my cock."
I was smashed and I was horny, and I thought that I had seen maybe only one other prick so beautiful. "Come here," I said, holding up my arms and swinging my hips in that age old motion of sensuous invitation, "come here, you lovely man; don't even try to get away."
His face flushed, he crawled onto the bed and I took hold of that mighty shaft to see if it was real. It was; the sturdy thing pulsed under my hand with a life of its own, the engorged veins throbbing powerfully as I caressed them. I ran my fingers over the gigantic length, trailed them around the unbelievable thickness, and wandered up to braille the flanged head, knowing its velvet skin scattered with a thousand tiny bumps, feeling the wide slot with its oozing of man juice.
"Beautiful," I murmured. "It's so beautiful, Mike."
The poor guy had been stifled so long, burdened with the size of his immense prick instead of being proud of it, that he almost sobbed his way into my arms. Our mouths met avidly, our tongues feeling over teeth and inner cheeks, curling about each other, and I could feel that meaty monster pulsating against my belly. I wanted that prick; oh, how I wanted it.
So I didn't spend much time playing around; spreading my thighs, I guided him between them, arching my back and reaching up for a pillow to place beneath my hips, opening my snatch more for the entrance of that gorgeous horse cock.
"Easy now," I warned him. "Just rub the head up and down my cunt lips to loosen them up. I'm already dripping inside, so we should have plenty of lubrication."
I was trembling all over, desperate to get that fabulous rod into my eager snatch, but just a tiny bit afraid that it might be too big for me, for any woman. When he set the very tip' of it against my squirming labia, I took a deep breath and wiggled very slowly, getting it lined up with the juicy opening.
With my hands on the cheeks of his muscular ass, I guided the operation, controlling his thrust by my sharp fingernails. Mike was tender, afraid to hurt me, but I moved more strongly against his glans, forcing that spongy tip into my pussy lips. They turned wet and rubbery, opening for him, and most of the knob penetrated.
It felt as if it was splitting me open, and I caught my lower lips between my teeth, grinding some more, working the spread bulb into the elastic giving of my labia, forcing them to part some more. Suddenly, greasily, his cockhead slipped past the inner lips and reached into the narrow grasp of my satin vagina.
Shuddering, I felt that mammoth shaft follow, felt it slide oiled through the clinging folds that surrounded it, going farther up inside me than any prick had ever been before, stretching my cunt and filling it as no other meat had managed to do until now. The sensation was wild, overwhelming; I was being packed tightly with a marvelous rod that nudged my womb. It was tremendously gratifying, and I wriggled sensuously upon that buried shaft.
"Oh baby, baby," he groaned. "My wife never let me stick my cock this deep. Oh wow--you're so hot and slippery inside, and I can feel your pussy massaging me, tickling my cockhead--come on, baby--fuck me, fuck me!"
I still had to take it easy and time my return thrusts so that battering ram glans didn't bruise my cervix, but the rest of it was just fine. Squirming delightedly upon his moving shaft, I rode it when he backed, up," and pulled back a little when he stroked it forward, protecting the tip of my vagina but relishing every hard, powerful inch of that fantastic prick, grinding happily upon the hairy weight of his filled balls when they put pressure against the uplifted cleft of my ass.
Mike let go without warming, and a sizzling jet stream of come thundered within my already filled pussy. Great blobs of greasy, thick semen drowned my womb and inundated the vaginal walls. Gasping and hunching erratically, he mumbled an apology at being so quick, but I understood. The poor guy hadn't had a fulfilling piece of ass in years, and he just couldn't handle it when he got into a woman's cunt that not only could control his giant prick, but adored having it there.
"Never mind," I hissed into his ear, my fingers digging at his ass, "never mind, darling--we'll just keep fucking. Your come will make it easier for you now, and better for me. Just hang on, Mike."
Humping it up at him, I raked my pelvis across his, and felt that king-sized cockhead rotate within the hot gloving of my packed vagina. The distended stem of his massive rod rolled over my aching clitoris, and shot a violent thrill throughout my pussy.
"What a wonderful, stiff cock," I breathed. "Oh man, you have no idea how. tremendous it feels, moving so slick and bubbly inside my cunt. Every inch of my pussy is filled up, and I can feel every bump, every vein on your prick. Oohh, Mike--Mike--I can't stand it any longer! I'm going to come, darling--COME."
It was only the first time the boiling explosion blew off inside me, rolling my belly and snapping. my ass-hole tight. Crying out madly, I began to ride a series of great, banging blasts, caught up in the impossibly magnificent tide of multiple orgasms that so few women are lucky enough to ever experience. One after another, they rocketed wetly within my stunned body, searing my cunt walls, blistering my clit and keening wildly through every pore of my flesh, each nerve of my being.
Somewhere along the line, I felt Mike lurch his huge glans into me, and knew the second geysering of his come. Flexing, his cockhead spat generous bursts of slippery liquid into me, up my quivering pussy, and now it tried to force its way back out where the lips were curled around the base of his embedded shaft, but there was no room, and the heavy cream sloshed back and forth, trapped there.
I drifted somewhere in a star-shot heaven, knowing that I was alive only by the convulsive movements of my cunt walls and the dying trembling of my clitoris. The strength was gone from me, and my flesh was limp, but my head was spinning crazily and my lungs were pumping for air. Never had I been fucked like this; never had I known a multiple orgasm, except...
Backing carefully, I worked my distended pussy from around the ball bat that had screwed it so well, and a flooding of semen came sliding out to puddle against the lowered cheeks of my tired ass, staining the sheets and seeping into the mattress below. Beside me, my newest and grandest lover lay on his back, his wide chest heaving and a slack look of utter contentment upon his sweating face. It had been just as good for him, being able to really stick his mammoth shaft into a woman, and I was happy for the guy.
You'd think that, once I discovered a prick like that, rd stay with it, loving its heft and length, reveling in the magic sensations it could create within my pussy. But it didn't take me long t' realize that mere size wasn't enough for Patti Cooper. I went down on Mike, although I couldn't get much more than the head inside my stretched mouth, and damned near choked on the tremendous spitting of his come. I couldn't take it by riding on top, because my weight made the glans hurt me, and there was never a prayer of him getting it into my ass, so we fucked either side by side, or with him on top, and I think that Mike was very happy.
He nagged at me about getting smashed, and tried to keep me sober by promising to marry me just as soon as his divorce became final. Maybe I even considered it, momentarily, but I had enough of marriage, and I was already wondering how it would be, to make it with a couple of Mike's friends.
So one day, before I got too drunk, I packed my bag and took what money there was in the house, and walked out on him. I did leave him a note saying I was sorry, that it wasn't the size of his cock or anything he'd done, that I simply wanted to be my own person.
Whoever or whatever the hell that was.