Chapter 2
Just as we pulled up in front of my brother's house they all came out in the driveway, and I saw Richard getting into his Mercedes with his executive attaché case while his wife and kids waved and blew kisses. It was a moving scene. But then Tazu beeped her horn and suddenly all the attention was riveted on us. We must have presented quite a sight, me in my jeans and sweatshirt lounging in an E-type Jaguar next to an exquisite oriental who was dressed in very expensive casuals; not to mention the canvases on the roof rack. Richard got out of his car and led his tribe to the street, and they looked us over very carefully before any of them recognized me.
"John, good to see you again," said my brother, coming at me with his hand extended. I got out of the car and shook it cordially, even though I, thought he was a prick. And then his wife, Diane, rushed at me and threw her arms about my neck.
"Where have you been!" she cried. "It's ten years since we saw you last, isn't it, Richard? You're a terrible relative, John!" But she kissed me a lot, anyway. And then I was introduced to their three daughters and I introduced Tazu. But she had to get going if she wanted to get to the airport in time, so I took my leave of her right there. It was a sad moment for me when she drove away, I was surrounded by ranch houses and there were cars pulling out of every driveway, long, sleek cars bearing men in their early thirties, corporate go-getters. Still, there were consolations to this turn of events, four of them in all. Diane and her daughters were beautiful!
As we trooped into the living room I looked them over more closely. They were either in jeans or robes, either blonde like Diane or brunette like my brother. I'd always had a little light burning for Diane, ever since my brother brought her home and announced he wanted to marry her. That was twenty-one years ago, when I had been too young to compete with my big brother for the hand of a grown-up eighteen-year-old. But I had tried my best anyway. In those days I did nothing but draw, and she had posed for me in the kitchen, wearing only a bikini. Of course it was a bikini from the 1950's, a very modest affair, but I had a raging erection all through the drawing. She used to spend a lot of time talking with me, too. She was so interested in art and what she called 'creative people'. For all her interest she married my dead-head brother the corporate lawyer. I didn't know it then, but there were a great many women who yearned for men like me and married the man least like me.
"I read about your last exhibition," said Richard, "and I hear it did very well for you. But I don't suppose you invested the money you got from it, did you?"
"No, I blew it," I said, still looking Diane over. She sat opposite me with her robe wrapped tight about her body, and I could tell she had filled out only where a woman needs a bit of plumpness. Her breasts were fuller and riper but her waist was still slender. And her deep tan made her eyes all the bluer, her hair the fairer. There was still something girlish about her face, though, the way her lips pouted. Her upper lip was bow-shaped, the lower one straight, and her front teeth were just visible when her face was passive. Her eyes were big and her lids lazy, with long lashes, and she had a way of looking up at you suddenly that left you wondering what she had in mind for you. As she sat there I found those eyes focusing in on me at the most unexpected times, beaming strong but unintelligible messages. She might have been saying fuck me, or she could have been looking right through me. Not that I had any intention of trying to find out what she really wanted. After Tazu no woman could lure me, especially not my brother's woman.
Still, she was gorgeous and as an artist I had to acknowledge that. As for her daughters ... they lounged about on the big couch next to their mother, all of them observing me as placidly as a row of cats, disturbing me and making me struggle to retain a cool front. Jean was the oldest, about twenty, and she remembered me clearly from the last time I had visited. She had long dark-brown hair and her eyes were bronze and bewitching. She had a pouty mouth, too, but she kept it firmly closed so that it looked as though she was in a pet about something most of the time. Tall like her mother and slender, with medium-sized breasts and a nice big ass that stretched her jeans to the bursting point, she looked more indifferent to me than the others. I guessed that it was her age that made her so aloof. The other two girls were very interested in me, eager to adopt a new, almost-forgotten uncle.
Lora and Cindy were sixteen and fifteen respectively, two blondes with boyish bodies—although Lora was developing distinctly female bumps on her chest. They were both in their robes, sitting together as though they were Siamese twins. But they were very different individuals. Lora was outgoing, voluble, and definitely the leader. Whereas Cindy tagged along after her and let her sister do all the talking. They had their mother's eyes, lazy but inquisitive, and I felt as though four pairs of eyes were taking pictures of my soul at measured intervals.
Richard and I said the correct things to each other and then he announced that it was time for him to go to his office. He told me to move my stuff into the guest room and to make myself at home. But there was something about his bearing that told me my welcome was a limited one, and that the expiration date was a mere week away. Well, that was enough for the time being. I didn't know if Tazu could work fast enough to beat my brother to the punch but deep down I had a good deal of confidence in her. A week! It suddenly dawned on me how long a period that was! A whole week without my beautiful, sexy woman, stuck in the suburbs instead of reveling in that forest hideaway. Gloom descended upon me for a minute, but then Richard left and I felt a lot better.
"Oh, John, I can't tell you how nice it is to have you with us," said Diane. She helped me move my canvases into the guest room and brought out sheets and pillow cases with which to make the bed. The girls followed us and began looking through the paintings and a sketch pad. A lot of what they saw made them giggle.
"Look, here's the lady who drove him here," said Lora. She had turned to the preliminary sketch for the cuntal painting, and I was quick to make her turn the page. Diane would see it later, no doubt, but I didn't mind that. She understood art. "Why don't you girls get out of here," said Diane. "You've all got school, haven't you? Well, let's go, let's go!" She clapped her hands and the girls moved reluctantly out. I watched Diane as she bent over the bed, her ass pushing out at her robe as if it wanted to burst free and present itself to me. Ah, idle thoughts! Even though that ass had held me in its thrall for over twenty years, I had no right to regard it in that light.
"So what's been going on here since the last time I visited?" I said conversationally.
"Nothing," she replied, her voice flat. She sat on the bed and pulled a packet of cigarettes from a pocket in her robe, lit two and passed one on to me. "I think about you sometimes, John, about the way you get around, meet new people, how you don't care about money or anything, and I really think you've got it made. You're the smart one, not people like Richard. He's been working so hard that he actually believes he's doing something vitally important for the community. But all he's doing is moving paper."
"You shouldn't look at it that way," I said. She wasn't the first to talk about her life like that to me. Most of the married women I had been with held their husbands up to me and found them wanting. "Look at it from the point of view of the kids. If you had married someone like me they'd be living in a tarpaper shack, always hungry, always wondering why their daddy spent so much time away from home."
"Oh sure," she laughed, "and always dragging you out of gin mills."
"Right. Whereas with Richard you've got a great home, they're getting the best education money can buy, you've got a pool and your own station wagon, credit cards, so what's the problem?"
"I know, I know," she sighed. "It looks great on the surface. I shouldn't complain. Richard is very good to us, very constant, faithful, and we never lack anything. But is this what life is supposed to be?"
"What a question!" Was life supposed to be running from one woman to the next, and having to sit out domestic crises in other people's homes? I felt like a cuckoo in a forest full of canaries and cuckolds. "Why are you dissatisfied? Is there something in you that you've had to repress for the sake of your husband and kids? I mean, are you really a great artist in bondage?"
"You can be smart about it, but I think there is something in me that has never found expression," she said, her eyes following the curling cigarette smoke. "It's great to see you again, John." She changed the subject without crashing the gears. "You know, I think about you so often, I think about that dark-eyed little boy and the rebellious young man, and now I see the full-grown man right before me ... You turned out not at all as I expected you to."
"Yeah, well," I shrugged. Sounds of showering and rushing came from the other parts of the big house, the girls preparing for school, talking, giggling, and sending a delicious perfume of soap and lotion to my twitching nostrils. Richard was lucky to be surrounded by women. That was the one thing I envied him for. The high-pitched voices, the fragrance, the whole feminine atmosphere, was just right for a man like me. I thrived on it, worked best in it, and already my fingers itched to get at a pencil and draw some of my first impressions. "What did you expect, Diane, another Peter Max?"
"Oh no, not at all!" she said. "I thought you'd be a recluse by now, working in a shack somewhere in the middle of the woods, with disciples stealing in late at night to take your work to galleries and leaving big checks in exchange."
"You're a dyed-in-the-wool romantic," I said.
"Yes, I guess so. Instead of that, you arrive in a Jaguar driven by a beautiful jet-setter. That's what you do mainly, isn't it, live with rich women?"
"It's purely a coincidence that the women I've lived with are rich," I said. "Or perhaps it's more logical than that, perhaps rich women can truly be themselves. Birds of beautiful plumage, no housewife's knees or dishpan hands, just exquisite creatures who groom and mate."
"You and Richard have the same parents, right?" she said quizzically. "Well, in that case the two of you stand as a living testament to the flexibility of the genetic code. Listen, John, do make yourself at home. I have to drive the girls to school and then I've got a lot of errands to do. I'm really glad you're here and I want you to make this place your own." She kissed me on the cheek and walked out to claim the bathroom for herself.
I lay on the bed and doodled a while, sketching Tazu's face and thinking of her and the two months we had spent together. Meeting her at a party, taking her home, making love with her for the first time ... my favorite episode. I closed my eyes and relaxed completely so that my mind could travel back those long weeks in time, to recapture the whole event. I had arrived at the party with a woman who had been keeping me for quite a while and who was starting to hint that it was time for me to marry her. She was a career woman and she kept her emotions locked in a vault. My cock was the only instrument that could open it, and after six months of constant fucking I had succeeded, only to find a pauper's ransom awaiting me. I was on the look-out for a new stepping-stone, any woman willing to keep me until a better one came along.
But when I saw Tazu I knew I was home! She was sitting in the center of the room with three drooling young men at her feet, and she took notice of none of them. I went over to her and asked her to dance, she accepted, and halfway through some futile disco number I asked her to take me to her place. We left the party without another word and she drove her Jaguar speedily and confidently into the woods, driving for hours it seemed, until we arrived at that splendid love nest.
She turned to face me when she had switched on the lights, and there was a challenge in her eyes. She looked so fragile and beautiful that for a moment I was afraid to touch her. But that challenge told me she could take all I had to deal out, and probably some more. My hands took hers and pulled her closer, I caressed her face and bent down slowly to brush my lips past hers. Her jasmine perfume tantalized me, her smooth skin made me tingle all over, and my cock was hard just from the situation. Here I was in the middle of the woods with a woman beautiful enough to make my fantasies look drab, and when I kissed her a little harder she didn't back away. In fact she moved in closer, her small body pressing into mine with unmistakable hunger!
"Be slow and gentle," she whispered. "It's been such a long time."
"I couldn't do it to you any other way," I said, wondering what she meant by a long time. A woman like her had to have hundreds of men at her disposal. I must have heard wrong. My hands moved down her back, feeling her delicacy and her sensuality coming through her dress, feeling further down where her soft buttocks bulged out slightly, down to her thighs. Her pubic bone pushed against me urgently. We subsided onto the bed and she lay on top of me, kissing me with small pecks, biting at my face and working her tongue into my mouth as my hands worked steadily at pulling her dress up higher.
I heard her shoes fall to the floor and then she moved away from my hands. She lay at an angle to me and placed her feet close to my face, little feet with delicate toes, nibble-sized. I took them with both hands and brought them right up to my face so that my tongue could work in and out of the crevices and my eyes could look up her legs and under her dress. She had on white panties and her pubic mound pushed out at me as if it was trying to get to my mouth without consulting the rest of her body. Let it wait, I told myself, it'll be all the sweeter when I finally get to that part of her.
Feet had never played a big part in my sex life but hers did something to me! I sucked on her little toes and licked her instep like a seasoned foot fetishist, making love to her feet because her feet were part of her. And I loved the little moans of pleasure that she emitted. She lay on her back and let me move her legs about any way I wanted to, just as long as I kept on kissing and sucking at her feet. And I treated myself to all sorts of fetching glimpses of her panties. The flesh of her thighs was full and smooth, glowing brownly under the soft lights, and when I reached up higher and caressed her there I wanted to move in permanently. Her thighs were utterly squeezable, so firm and yet so yielding, so smooth that all my sensory nerves rustled like leaves in a breeze. But I stuck with her feet until I felt sure she wanted me to move on. I wanted to make this girl dependent on me for future orgasms, if only to ensure that I could stay with her until I'd had my fill of her.
"That's nice," she groaned, and that little oriental accent, the way she neglected the consonants, aroused me to such a point that which I just couldn't stay that far from her pussy. My lips and tongue slid along her slick skin, paid homage to her slim ankles and the soft curve of her calves. I kissed her knees back and front, and then slithered in between her legs like a snake, making love to her inner thighs as my head pushed her dress up and out of the way.
She parted her legs wider and let me slip into place, but neither of us made a move to get rid of those white cotton panties. They were so sensible and yet so erotic that I wanted to eat them off her body! I nuzzled into her crotch and breathed in the faint but tart scent of her femininity, and I knew I'd found nirvana. During that first moment of contact I lost myself completely, absorbed in the pudgy flesh and the insinuating perfume much as a pilgrim loses himself at a holy shrine.
One finger pushed the crotch of her panties out of the way and in the darkness under her dress I got my first taste of her naked cuntal flesh. She was very wet and very tasty, and pretty soon I had to get rid not only of her panties but of her dress also, because this was a pussy that had to be eaten totally. Tazu submitted happily to everything I did, spreading her legs out wide and lifting her ass up for me so I could dive in and dig my tongue right up her tight pussy hole, could squeeze her soft, wobbly buttocks, and clamp her thighs over my ears so nothing could intrude into my mind to distract me from this delicious condiment.
And as I recollected that event, lying on the bed in the guest room of my brother's house, I got very hard and very restless. The women were gone now, I was all alone, and I thought that was just as well since I was in the mood for rape. I started to wander about my room, checking its appointments in order to put some distance between me and Tazu, but I found myself looking for stimuli rather than bromides. My drawing book lay open with Tazu's picture showing, and for a long time I stood over it and looked down at her beautiful features, that full little cunt, the small breasts with the big nipples, those shrewd, narrow eyes and her pursed mouth, mocking me, daring me to fuck her one more time, telling me I could never satisfy her ultimately but holding out the promise of maybe. She knew how to dangle a carrot!
I walked out of my room and took in the rest of the house. My cock was half-hard and prickly with lust. My eyes took in the objects scattered about in the half-hope of finding something to jerk off over. So many women in this house, how could I miss? The living room was big and clean, with the right couches and coffee table forming an ensemble in the center, home entertainment center on the wall, women's periodicals stacked neatly on shelves, a few Book of the Month Club selections, nothing more. The kitchen shone and contained nothing but implements that were all foreign to me. Richard had a den, too, very cozy, lots of teak and cedar paneling, leather-bound first editions, law books, a small color TV with a baseball cap hanging off one of the knobs, and memorabilia. It was just like Dad's den, but then Richard was a bad copy of him. I walked back upstairs to the bedrooms and checked them one by one. The perfume of the collective lotions and whatnots from the girls' rooms was starting to make me dizzy with lust. If only one of them had stayed home for the day to make her uncle feel more welcome, she would be entertaining him right at that moment!
Jean had a room of her own; Lora and Cindy shared the bigger of the two rooms. In the latter room I contented myself with fondling their underwear and sniffing at the crotches; but modern life had dealt several severe blows to perverts like me. The first and biggest one had been the introduction of pantyhose, which had ruined the fun of looking up girls' dresses. The second had been the modernization of washing machines and additives. Contemporary technology washed those goddamn panties clean, and no matter how much I sniffed at the pieces of material that contained those little teen-age cunts day in, day out, not a whiff of femininity emerged. My lust drove me to carefully undo their tightly made beds and to sniff at the sheets, approximately at the spot where their little bottoms would rest during the night. Again, no luck. All I could get was the lemony freshness of some additive.
Frustrated, semi-erect, and more restless than ever, I sauntered into Jean's room and inspected it casually. Her underwear drawer yielded nothing more but I wasn't going to give up easily. I rummaged around in her closets, and in one of them, in the far corner, I found a long, slim box that had been hidden under other boxes; Those other boxes bore little notations to indicate their content. But not the last box. It was blank and it looked naughty. I opened it up and voila!—a nice modestly-sized dildo lay on a bed of tissues, and this item hadn't yet been sterilized with lemony-fresh whatever. It smelled of pussy, good and raunchy, and my nostrils opened wide to take it all in. Now my cock reared up and my mind conjured up fantasies of Jean giving it to herself.
It was six inches long and not too thick, a nicely textured rubber dildo with which I could easily compete both in terms of size and hardness. I fondled it and held it close to my nose, with my other hand undoing my zipper and extricating my cock. In my mind Jean lay on that bed just near me, her dress pulled up around her waist, her panties stretched between her ankles, her knees leaning away from each other, and one hand held her cunt open while the other grabbed the hilt of her dildo and pushed it in—deeper, deeper, until all of it had been swallowed up and her body writhed with discomfort and pleasure. But it wasn't Jean doing it to herself after a while. Her face gradually re-formed into Tazu's face. She had done it for me on a few occasions when I was too spent to get it up again but felt horny enough to appreciate a good show of lust. With a dildo not much different from the one I held in my hand, Tazu would get herself off, self-consciously at first, glancing over at me and giggling, but losing herself every second, slipping into a storm of passion that eventually consumed her and held her in its thrall until every last scrap of passion had been spent.
I lay on the bed and thought back to that first night. Eating Tazu's chubby cunt and sucking out her sapid juice, rubbing my face in her tender flesh, and discovering for the first time how sensitive her little tits were. Those tense nipples quivering like antennae, her breathless cries of awe and ecstasy—and then she said we ought to take an interval.
I had been stunned. The sap of her pussy was all over my face, my cock burned for action, and I had to lie there and watch her get off the bed, undress completely, and then walk toward the bar to mix us a couple of drinks. Had I been less stunned I might have leaped up and raped her there and then. But I lay there, and in that momentary pause I remembered her saying to be slow and gentle. Let her set the pace, she knew what was best for her. Besides, my erection had turned into a fixture. She brought me a cool drink and then she sat on the side of the bed and asked pie for a cigarette.
Since I had run out we smoked hers, and bit by bit we started to talk. We introduced ourselves, declared our status and position, and then I began to tell her what I liked about her, which made her reciprocate. What a perceptive, shrewd woman she was! "I used to think I liked women more than men," she said, "but then I tried it and discovered that I just like beauty. You're beautiful, John, almost beautiful, but there's enough man about you to make it obvious you're not gay." Such a balanced compliment. Of course I couldn't effuse enough about her attractions, and in the course of that we fell into each other's arms and now she took the initiative.
She made me undress and lie down, and when I tried to caress her she made me fold my hands back under my head. I knew what she was going to do and my whole body expanded with a sense of sheer luxury. I stretched and my cock grew even harder, and then her, soft lips skidded along my belly, getting me close to coming. Her fingernails scratched subtly at the most sensitive spots, right down in the groin area where my nerves twitched and spasmed easily, and further down to my balls. She let her fingertips run over my scrotum so that they barely touched the skin but evoked the finest sensations by strumming my hairs. She didn't need to do this. I would have been more than happy to feast on her pussy all night long—but since she was down there I was just as happy to let her have her way.
She kissed and licked all around my dick, keeping her mouth just a little away from the vital parts, but her fingers caressed my cock and balls. She bent over me so that her ass stuck up high in the air, and from my reclining position I was able to appreciate the perfect symmetry of those two cheeks, the glow of her light brown, flesh, as well as the tender loving care she showered upon me. Many women had had their lips around my dick over the years but none had loved that part of me so deeply and thoroughly. When she finally closed her lips over my glans the expression on her face made it hard for, me to be cool again. There was a contentment such as one sees on a baby sucking a pacifier or on a man with a big Havana. She loved it and so did I and as a result I felt no obligation to hurry her, to let her know that she could stop now and collect her reward. This woman was sucking for sucking's sake!
And how she worked me over! I groaned, I tossed and turned, I pushed my dick deeper into her face than she could take and yet she took it and more. She worked her face over my dick in short jabs, wetting me down and breathing regularly, licking and sucking, nibbling on that super-sensitive part just below the glans and then dipping down further, further, swallowing my eight inches one by one until, to my amazement, my cock disappeared into her face and her throat muscles ululated about my knob. That I didn't come at that moment can only be attributed to raw experience and self-discipline, and also to a deep curiosity to see what else she could do.
Her face turned around my dick and she brought her ass back to me like a birthday present, settling her pussy over my mouth and continuing to suck my dick all the while. She was a smooth mover. I opened wide and swallowed her cunt as completely as she had swallowed my dick, and now it turned into a duet of lovemaking. There were moments when she lost her beat and moments when I had to stop for breath and to accommodate all those wild sensations she had built up in my loins. Our bodies throbbed in tune, our moans and grunts were a harmony of passion, and suddenly my balls became turbulent and blasted their load up the tube to fill her mouth in a rush!
She sucked on, emptying my dick and filling her belly, and I sucked on because I hadn't had enough of her yet. Hard or soft, she was delicious to eat, and while I ate and she sucked, my cock resurrected itself. It was a proud moment for me when her suckling and subtle scratching was rewarded with the total expansion of my meat. I heard her breathing become more rapid, I felt my cock getting firmer and thicker, and the urge to fuck was as strong as it had ever been. She was giving me the treatment again but I wasn't taking any chances this time. As soon as I was hard enough I made her sit on it. And when she had twisted her pussy over my dick and engulfed it with warm, wet flesh, I made her lie on top of me and I rolled us both over to mount her like a raging stallion.
That's how it was. Her cunt was wide open now and my dick dove in and pulled out without the slightest resistance. That delicate body of hers could take any amount of fucking; in fact the harder I banged her the happier she was. In and out, shoving it up her with mighty thrusts to get to the very bottom of her cunt, and pulling back so that the tip of my knob hovered outside her body for a split second before diving back in, grunting with each stroke, exerting myself fully, and slamming my pubic bone into her cunt to crush her clitoris into submission. I was in an erotic fury. This was the fuck I'd been limbering up for all my life, this was the pussy for which I'd sharpened my pencil, chalked my cue, and learned to dance. My mouth crushed into hers, my chest squashed her tits, I held her with one arm and with my free hand I fingered her asshole. She like that, too. The moment my finger touched down on her soft, puckered sphincter she let out a sharp cry as if to let me know I had a green and the more I pushed the more violent her pelvic motions became.
My finger sank into that soft, tight hole and she move up and down over it to get the full benefit of it. Now my cock was embedded in her pussy and my finger was deep inside her asshole, fingering, fucking, sweating all over her, listening to her squeal and cry, forgetting myself, fucking more, fucking harder, and exploding as unexpectedly as the time before.
And that was the opening round! What a night we spent together! In the morning we stumbled out of bed and fell into the pool, too exhausted to exchange a civil smile. And in the course of the morning she told me what she had meant by saying it had been such a long time. "My husband travels all the time. He arranges mergers and stuff like that, and right now the Arabs are the ones providing the hot action for people like him. And even when he is here he always works and calls people, and he has parties for all his dull friends. It's very hard for me because I was brought up to love sex. Then, when I try to be unfaithful to him, no one comes near me. Men don't seem to like me."
"They're crazy about you," I told her, "but they think you have to be attached to somebody because you're so beautiful. Besides that, if a man asks you out he really wants you to say yes with all his heart; and most men prefer not to commit themselves to such propositions."
"I don't understand," she said. "All I know is that I'm very happy you didn't care about all those things."
The start of a beautiful relationship. It turned out that Chuck had been her only lover and that she had just read about what other people did. Chuck was a conservative in the affairs of the heart, and as a result I was the first to make Tazu climax. She was mine! At least for the time being.
I got off Jean's bed and straightened it up. My cock still stood out of the fly, hard, flushed, yearning to be taken care of, but I put her dildo away and rummaged about in her bookcase. She had a lot of books and many of them had to do with psychology and sex. There were a lot of technical books on sexual practices, sexual statistics, abnormal sexuality and the like, and it didn't take a Sherlock Holmes to figure out that that was her major. A student of sex, I thought, my lustful brain working overtime; that could be very, interesting. But then I thought of Tazu and wondered how any woman could replace her.
As I rummaged through the bookcase I came upon a bunch of magazines that had been tucked behind the lines of books. These were pornographic magazines; I knew it without even looking at them. But I wanted to be sure. "Little Black Lesbians" said the cover of one-"Little Black Highschool Girls" said another. I was starting to get the drift. And another one dealt with teenager lesbians and their dildos. Was this an adolescent flirtation with lesbianism or a fully fledged commitment? I became curious enough to want to find out. In the meantime I leafed through the magazines and admired the girls. No photographer could de-sex these girls, although the people who had put these magazines together had give it a good college try. Through the inappropriate smiles and the badly lit photos came the scent of pussy and the smack of inner lips, the sense of depth to the flesh of buttocks and the softness of pendulous breasts. I had slept with lesbians in" the past and some of them had enjoyed it, others had not. Not once had I concerned myself with their conversion. But in the case of my own niece ...
I thought about the week or two ahead and I knew my moral fibre would break down sooner or later. Well, since I was so sure that I couldn't hold out, why waste time trying? If I was going to hate myself for weakness it was better to make the best of it beforehand, and with that thought in mind I started to think how I could get at this admirer of little black lesbians.
Just to be on the safe side I tucked my cock back into my jeans. No use spilling the seed if it could be deposited in a nice little box. At my age I wasn't inclined to waste it any more than I had to. So I put the magazines back where I had found them, checked her room to make sure there was no trace left of my visit, and went downstairs and turned on the television.
The first station I turned to had a game show featuring a Japanese-American housewife who looked nothing like Tazu but who made me desperately homesick all the same. I had to find someone to fuck with during this separation! If I didn't I'd be a wreck by the time she called me homeland nobody loves a wreck.