Chapter 4
The first hint that an occasion was about to take place, came when a dozen girls trooped into the place and evoked a cheer from the crowd of men. Not long after one of the waiters came over to me and asked if I would care to be a contestant "In what?" I asked.
"Can't you read?" he retorted. "Look at that big banner over the bandstand. We're having a wet T-shirt contest and you're a cinch to win it as far as I'm concerned."
It took me a moment to digest this information, another moment to check out my rivals. Yes, I had a good chance ... but did I want to do it? I'd read about these contests and it seemed to me that women filled a rather stereotypical role in them. Ah, what the hell! I downed my drink and told him sure, I'd love to enter. He took my name and gave me instructions. These were simple enough: put the T-shirt on, get yourself wet, and move it!
The band struck up a driving beat, glasses were filled, the slick young guys got the girls lined up and handed out the T-shirts. The patrons began to pound the mugs on tables, chanting: "We want the girls, we want the girls!" I was in the line-up and exchanged nervous glances with the others. But at the same time I could sense that each of these girls was out to wow them and win first prize. I didn't give the prize much thought. A week in Puerto Rico was the last thing I needed. All I could think about was those guys, dozens of pairs of glowering, feverish eyes peering at me through the dimness of the bar. A shiver ran up and down my spine, cold, frightening, yet ever so exciting. It approximated my most brutish fantasies, all those animals straining at their leashes, with me tempting them, teasing them until they roared and broke free only to attack me savagely.
We contestants were all dressed in street clothes, jeans or dresses, secretarial garb to hanging-out gear, and we were sent to the ladies' room to take off our tops and replace them with the T-shirts. Each of us had a number, the order in which we would make our appearance, and since I had joined the contest last, I would be the last to tread the boards. That suited me. One of the other girls, who had been in these contests before, told me I was lucky to draw last place. "We've all done our thing and you've seen us do it, so whatever we've thought up you can use and you can go one better."
"That doesn't seem fair," I mused.
"Well, in a way it is, because it evens out the fact that the first contestants will be getting them horny, the middle ones will bring them close to coming, and you'll have to deal with the leftovers." She had clearly pondered every aspect of wet T-shirt contests.
"Ladies and gentlemen, your attention please!" The host took the microphone over and addressed the patrons as if they were all his best friends. His opening speech contained a lot of questionable material and much innuendo, all of which the audience received as if they were his best friends. Well, maybe they were. What mattered to me was that the contest was on.
The band rocked and rolled and the first girl did a preliminary dance in her jeans and T-shirt. Her name was announced, then the next one came up, all the way down the line. When I went through the preamble the audience cheered most encouragingly. Suddenly every girl had a built-in applause meter. The first girl went back to the stage and the host came at her with a bottle of soda water. He pressed the nozzle and the water splashed all over the front of her T-shirt. The crowd went mad! Nipples showed through the flimsy material dark and prominent, and when she turned around, her tits shivered like two jello puddings, a sight that sent tiny thrills through my loins and big ones through the audience's collective loins. In her jeans and her wet T-shirt she managed to project sex to every corner of the room.
The next girl tried even harder. She bumped and ground, thrusting her pubic bone out at the men so hard as to make their tongues loll, pushing her big tits up with both hands as if offering free dinners. She was good. My chances seemed to diminish by the minute. The third girl must have felt the same way because she took off her jeans and danced around in her T-shirt and panties. Where would this end? The men yelled and stomped their appreciation, the host yelled "Aaawwww-riiiiite!! " and the band gave out a set of riffs that would have inspired the most jaded belly dancer this side of Suez.
"Look at her," snorted the girl waiting in line next to me. "She's acting like a bitch in heat. I don't care how great first prize is, you ain't gonna see me shoving my pussy into no man's mouth!" She was black and tall, a beautiful woman, but her tits were as tiny as her ass was big. I thought she'd be well-advised to slip off her slacks and let the men sample what she concealed in her panties, because those tits wouldn't move anybody. I couldn't tell her that, though. Surreptitiously I glanced down at my own beauties and felt a surge of pride. Wait till those guys got an eyeful of my uprights!
One by one the girls did their best to swing the voters over to their side. And one by one their acts got raunchier. The black girl next to me was totally disgusted. "Crazy bitches!" she commented. "They gonna be raped if they keep up with that shit! And they're asking for it, too. I'm gonna win this thing my own way, with class. Yeah!"
That was fine by me. I had every intention of pulling out all stops. At last it was her turn, and out she went, finger-popping, swinging her ass from side to side, jiggling her little tits. The man wetted her down, the band swung into action, and that girl proceeded to give lie to everything she had said. The bitch was shameless! Off came the T-shirt, and she danced in real close to the gawking, yelling males. Big nipples quivered just near their open mouths, she undulated and thrust her pubic bone out at them, she let out ecstatic little cries and bent over some of the patrons real low so they could cop quick feels. A bitch in heat indeed.
Tiny tits or no, that girl was winning them over. I found myself frowning and searching for alternative presentations as I watched her. Now her slacks came off, revealing long dark limbs, tiny panties, and ass aplenty! Big black cheeks bulging backward, firm as soccer balls, quivering with her every move, her enchanting cheeks were the kind that made me want to drag my tongue up and down the spit, to dig my fingers in and squeeze the night away. I suppressed these deviant thoughts and concentrated once more on the business at hand. She was giving them a hell of a show. Her hand moved in and out of her panties briefly, tantalizing them, taking their minds off her deficient little tits and bringing them right down between those firm, shiny black thighs. She danced and wiggled, crowing as she came too close to her captive audience. Hands pawed at her, men looked flushed, and the band kept on playing.
By the time she was done I didn't give myself a chance. She was the winner, everyone in the bar knew and so did the line-up of girls. They muttered slanderous comments about her among themselves, a sure sign that she was the favorite. When the black girl finished her act, the crowd gave out a roar, and they would have crowned her the winner right then and there if the host hadn't moved right along to me.
"And now, last but not least, Blondie!" he yelled, motioning the spotlight over to me. The black girl strutted by me and sneered as if to say that my chances were slim indeed. I'd show her. A grim determination overcame my stage fright. The band struck the first chord and I was off and running.
I started nice and easy, swaying as the host ran the cold soda water down my front, kneading my tits slowly while doing the first steps, and then, as the music built up, I started to give it to them but good! My burgeoning fantasies supplied the fuel and the inspiration: lewd eyes leering at me, devouring me, fastening on my nipples and crotch, all those potential rapists sitting there with their cocks twitching restlessly in straining undershorts. Little old me generating all that sexual energy merely by massaging my boobies and waggling my ass!
I timed it well. About midway through the song I stopped to take off my jeans and the crowd indicated it was already forgetting about the black girl. My panties, unfortunately, were the ordinary five-and-dime kind but I remedied that by snatching the soda water bottle from the host's hands and spraying the contents all over my pubic area and my ass, standing close to my audience. The pink, silky material grew transparent right away and the pubic bush was as clearly visible as my nipples. Shouts and whistles, cries of 'Go ahead, baby' and 'Take it off, sweetheart!' resounded. But I had some time left before making the ultimate move. I peeled off the wet T-shirt and threw it into the crowd. To the side of the bar was a large mirror and I caught a glimpse of myself, tits full and proud, my body shining-wet, panties clinging to the contours of my ass, and men, men, men all around me! I was a goddess!
The band was drawing to a close and that's when I made the ultimate move. Let the black bitch try to top this one, I thought as I pulled my panties down ever so slowly, shimmying out of them. The band promptly began an encore and the crowd was on its feet. "Give it to me ma-maaaa!" yelled the host. "Awwwrrriiiiite! Shake those buns!! "
And shake them I did. Being naked in the center of a crowd of men didn't phase me for a second. All my fantasies had led up to this one point. I felt as though I had been there often, flaunting it, offering it around, and now that I had realized the fantasy and strange hands brushed along my skin, I felt myself rising in a slow, glorious climax. My hands roamed freely over my body, squeezing my tits, running a naughty finger along the length of my cunt slit, I bent forward and exposed my orifices to the clamoring crowd, then danced away and covered the hairy area as if I'd suddenly been smitten by a fit of demureness. The crowd loved it.
"Go to it, baby! Sit on my face! Come see what I got for you!" The host was right up close to me, clinging to his microphone so he could make lewd comments to the crowd while he did his utmost to fondle me with his free hand. I dodged him and the others because I wanted showtime to go on forever.
"Here I am!" I cried out in my mind. "Take me, rape me, do with me as you will! Only hurry!" There wasn't a mind reader in the crowd. They ogled, they clutched at their roaring erections, but not a man came near me with anything good in the way of intentions. I turned my back to them and bent over, touching my toes without bending my knees, and a surge of passion ripped through me as I realized what I was doing. I was like a bitch in heat-no, worse, I was a wounded bitch in heat, lustful and vicious at the same time, demanding not a man but a gorilla! My hands went back to my ass cheeks and pulled them wide apart. The place was in an uproar and they were yelling for me to be named the winner.
I lay down on the floor and spread my legs wide. The moisture had to be dripping out of my cunt but they probably thought it was soda water. I bore down and made the pink flesh bulge out, I pulled the labia far apart and showed them the portals of heaven-and not one of those faggots flung himself upon me with unsheathed cock!! I was nearly crying with frustration but determined not to give up. Rolling over on my belly, I began to hump the floor, and heaven knows how far I would have gone if the show hadn't been interrupted.
"All right, all right, everybody back off!" I heard a harsh, authoritative voice yell. "Just keep your seats and keep quiet. You, get up and put some clothes on. The rest of you get dressed and go home. Not you, you come with us." The host and I were placed under arrest by two burly cops, and now, instead of being the host's favorite performer, I was the scapegoat.
"Stupid bitch, you'll probably cost me my liquor license!" he snapped as we were led off to the paddy wagon.
"Why, because I stripped?"
"No, because you permitted penetration! Don't you know the law? As soon as something, anything, enters your pussy, the place is in contradiction of the liquor licensing board's regulations. You were fingering yourself like a maniac and those cops saw it. I've had it!"
"Fingering myself?" I didn't remember doing that but when I sniffed the offending digit it certainly smelled a lot like me. I was tense, uneasy, my loins burned with unspent desire. Much as I tried to think logically about why we were in a paddy wagon, it was impossible to get past one central fact: that I was FRUSTRATED!! ! My jeans and T-shirt were cold and clammy, I wanted to go home and entice Gina into giving me the gratification I so sorely needed.
We were pushed into the station and the desk sergeants went through a lot of paperwork to make our debut official. The host was quick to collar someone who looked important, and explained that the incident had nothing to do with him, he was merely the owner of the place and he couldn't be held responsible for nymphomaniacs upsetting his clientele. The man seemed sympathetic, especially after the host had whispered words into his ear. I wasn't surprised to see the host get his release a little later, and to see him leave without one backward glance at me. It was a cruel world. One moment I was on top of it, adored by everyone ; the next I was on the bottom, crushed by it.
"You'll spend the night here in the precinct," said a powerfully-built matron, "and tomorrow morning we'll transfer you to the house of detention for women. You'll remain there until someone posts bond or your case comes up in court."
I couldn't contact my parents and I didn't want to bother anyone at college. Besides, a few days in jail would make a basis for a great expose! I could see the headlines already: Inside a Woman's Prison; Girl Reporter Blasts the Lid Off the Penal System! Not bad. I began to look around with more interest, noting details, faces, expressions, and pretty soon I had persuaded myself that this was a stroke of good fortune. By the end of my term I would know a lot about something other than life on campus.
The matron took me down to the showers and handed me a towel and a fresh set of prison clothing. It was nice to be warm and dry. When I was shown to my cell I felt quite content with the whole situation. The cell was empty but for me, even though the other cells seemed to hold more than their share of inmates. A few women were peering through the bars and when they saw the matron usher me into the empty cell, one of them yelled: "Hey Maggie, is that your supper?"
"Shut the fuck up," growled Maggie. The inmates laughed and a lot of other comments were exchanged, but they were all lost on me. I was busy taking mental notes. Four bunks to a cell, one small toilet exposed to the view of all who were inside or wandered by, graffiti scratched into the plaster, a small barred window too high up to do anyone any good, and rows of bars made up the scenery. It all seemed cruel and unusual to me.
My frustration had turned into tiredness, and as soon as I could, I undressed and crawled under the blankets. The other inmates had settled down to card games and gossip, a steady buzz of conversation that acted as a soporific on me. I dozed off gently, thinking about the bar and my act, about my article, about Gina and Richard, thoughts sliding by a viewing window that grew more and more opaque until sleep took over.
The dream I had was quite vivid. I was swimming in a lake, naked and alone. The water was warm and I swam as effortlessly as a fish. I dove deep, eyes wide open, and saw rare fish swim by just below the surface, big fish with goggling eyes and thick lips. They were anything but scared of me. In fact, one or two came over to me and began to nuzzle at my flesh, pressing those full lips against me so as to tickle me and frighten me a little. Did they have teeth? I couldn't see. But those nuzzling lips covered parts of my body that they shouldn't touch at all. Whatever prompted those fish to dip in between my legs? And why did my nipples attract them? I squirmed and giggled and tried to push them away but they were persistent. It was nice, though. I went back up to the surface and the big fish followed me, nipping and tickling, and they made me all hot and giggly. "No, don't, get away from me!" I cried, and the sound of my own voice woke me up.
It was dark but for a few night lights burning down the corridor. There wasn't a sound in the cell block. How come I felt so weird? My body was hot and tingly all over, it seemed especially sweaty between my legs ... and then I noticed the big lump under my blankets. I wasn't alone in bed! With a shriek I leaped out from under the covers and pressed up against the wall furthest from the invading monster. A head appeared and a woman's voice whispered: "Shut up, you little fool, and get back into bed. I won't eat you," she sniggered.
But who was she? I moved back toward the bed and strained my eyes to see through the dark. Ah, the matron, that explained everything. "You shouldn't be here!" I told her. She made an impatient sound and motioned for me to get my ass back into place. Should I? For a moment I felt positively coy. There she was, huddled under the blankets, waiting so that I would slide my pussy back into her face.
I couldn't do it! At least, not until I realized there was no choice involved. If I upset this lady she would make the time go hard for me. Better do as she says, I told myself. So I sat back down on the bed and lifted my legs onto it, and the matron's hands guided my feet as I made myself comfortable. Her mouth attached itself to my pussy and we were back to where we started. Nibbling, wet sounds, the occasional urge to giggle, and an over-all pleasantness suffused my body and rose until I felt deliciously pampered. At last here was a person willing to do for me!
And how she did it! Her tongue insinuated itself into every nook and cranny of my cunt, her fingers deftly played the clitoris and nipples, and all I had to do was lie there and take it. I couldn't think of anything nicer to do. My hands were folded behind my head, my body was stretched out in luxurious supineness, and all the while her tongue and fingers were working me over, generating new delights, setting me on fire.
My mind wandered back to the bar and all the intricate little ecstasies I had encountered during the contest. The fact that I had won it by popular acclaim mattered less than did the recurring images-the burning eyes, the restless cocks, the men shifting uneasily to make more room for their erections, and one guy who had pulled his hard dick out and jerked it openly when he was sure he had my attention. There had been so much sexual energy in the room that a detonator appropriately placed and set off could have triggered an explosion big enough to wipe out the county! And I had been at the very hub of it, creating it and being created by it. I shivered and snuggled in closer to the sucking, licking mouth between my legs. It could all have ended so differently if the police had had the decency to stay out of the bar!
My mind worked out the variations one after the other. I saw, as if flashed on a big screen, myself and an avalanche of men, me underneath struggling to survive, them teeming on top of me trying to penetrate any one of my orifices. And when the dust cleared there I was, sucking off a giant cock while a man rammed his dick into my ass and another made room for himself in my pussy, and others had guided my hands to their bobbing erections so I could jerk them off in unison. As many guys as could fit stood in a tight circle around me and jerked themselves off with a steady beat. Wherever I looked there were purple, tumescent knobs threatening to unleash a flood of sperm upon me, or hairy balls or deep chests, the smell of sweat and beer, everything so totally masculine that I felt like a pearl within an oyster.
But even as my fantasy unfolded, the matron kept drawing me back to the reality of her love-making. I wasn't the first one, that was easy to tell. Her tongue expertly flitted from my clit to my ass-hole, describing tight circles before pushing its way deep into my pussy, emerging only to start its rounds again. And her hands massaged my tits exquisitely, pinching the nipples, digging the edges of her fingernails in, just when I needed a sharp sensation to offset all that sweetnessmauling and kneading until I was near to screaming with ecstasy.
I controlled myself as well as I could but she brought one of her hands down to my pussy and shoved a couple of fingers up it, and that did it. "AAAAAAAAAWWWWWOOOOOOOOOHHH-HHHHHHI!" I yelled, twisting and turning in the narrow cot. "NOOOO, NOOOOOOHHHH, OOOOOOOOWWWWWWAAAAHHHHHhhhhh-h ... " Climaxes rattled down the chute and the matron maintained her relentless pressure to be sure every last one of them evolved. When at last my passions settled into a simmering mass I became aware that the matron and I weren't exactly alone.
"Ooooowww matron, what a big tongue you have!" someone laughed from down the block.
"Matron, don't, leave some for the other girls I"
"Will somebody fetch a bucket of cold water?"
It sounded as though all the women had been awake all along, because a veritable Greek chorus of comments rang through the detention center. The matron didn't seem at all phased by this. She got out from under the blankets, straightened up her uniform and, without a glance at me, let herself out of the cell and locked the door securely after her. So that was that? I shook my head to clear it and tried to figure out what the matron had in her mind.
She had used me ... but I could take a lot of exploitation of that kind. With a sigh I dismissed the episode, lit a cigarette, and lay back in the cot listening to the riotous women in the other cells. When they were done the women from the opposite cell gave me a survival hint. "Be careful of that bitch tomorrow, honey," said one of them. "She'll be after your ass all day. She's like that."
"Yeah, she gets awful mean," added another. "She only hurts the ones she loves!"
"What should I have done, then?" I asked. "I couldn't refuse her, could I?"
"She's a strange one, nothing pleases her," was the reply, and I had to be satisfied with that. I was too tired to worry about it for long, though. The day had been extremely demanding.
The women were right: matron was mad at me! It started in the breakfast line and she kept on hounding me throughout the day, I was on my knees scrubbing, toting pails of water, up to my elbows in hard soap, and all the while her tongue lashed me. I was lazy, good for nothing, ugly, stupid, conceited, I thought the sun shone out of my ass and my shit smelled like ice cream. My ancestry was brought into question on numerous occasions, she stated I was a bleached blonde (although she, of all people, should have known better), and worse than anything I was a smartass college kid.
The matron was a big, buxom woman who didn't believe in letting any of the parts of her body hang loose. Strapped into corsets and girdles, her uniform tight and immaculate, she looked as though she mourned the passing of concentration camps when bitches were real bitches. Her face was strong, her hair too short, and she could have been an attractive woman if she had wanted it that way. Instead she wanted to be a man, and I figured that was why she was giving me the business. Men despised women who were too easy. I had been easy, now I had to be treated like a slut. It took me most of the day to figure that out and when it came to me I realized I had to play up to her if my stay was to be at all bearable. My appearance in court was a few days away and I had no intention of spending those days on my knees, scrubbing corridors.
So, in the middle of a torrent of abuse, I looked up at the matron and gave her a big wink. She stopped in mid-sentence. I ran the tip of my tongue along my lips, wetting them and implying that I could do the same for her lips-the upper set, or the lower set, whichever she wanted wetted. Matron didn't know where to look or what to do. She obviously still desired me, and the idea that I might desire her knocked her off her feet
Matron walked away and yelled at somebody else, stopped, looked lost, and came back to me. "What do you mean by that shit I" she demanded, running her tongue along her lips in a poor imitation of what I had done.
"That I want you," I said in a throaty whisper. The other women were looking at us by now but they couldn't hear what was being said. Matron's eyes bored into mine, applying a lie-detector test, but I looked back as sweetly and innocently as I could.
"Harrumph!" she said finally. This time she walked right out of the mess hall and I didn't see her all evening. The women from the opposite cell kept quizzing me. They couldn't understand why the matron wasn't on my back any longer. But I didn't tell them. If matron found out I was conning her she'd have me buried under the house of detention.
After the lights had been put out I prepared myself for her visit. I washed myself, put on a few drops of perfume from a vial left by an earlier inhabitant, and stretched out on my bed dressed only in bra and panties. I didn't have long to wait. From the end of the corridor came the ring of marching boots. The cell door opened, closed, and I felt her hot breath on my neck. I didn't move from my comfortable position as she moved alongside me, but when she pressed into me I made a half-turn and embraced her with a sudden outburst of passion. The matron got that strange look on her face again but she didn't let that stop her. She accepted my embrace and my hungry, searching kisses with all her heart, and when my hand began to move along the stiffness of her clothing she let out an uncharacteristically feminine moan.
The seduction had to be slow because she wasn't used to it. And her undergarments took a long time to undo. I had all the time in the world and I worked her over leisurely, kissing her face, stroking her stiff curves, undoing buttons and hooks and zips, and laying bare her massive tits. It was such a change that it took me by surprise-from her hard clothing to the warm softness of her bosom, from coldness to heat, from rejection to love. I let my face come to rest in between her big fleshy pillows and let all thoughts of seducing her be for a while. It was so peaceful and sensual there, nothing but yielding flesh against my face ... but I couldn't let her come to her senses.
My lips closed around one nipple and sucked on it intensely. She responded with animal groans and her arms came around my waist to lock me into place. Nothing was said between us. We communicated by the rate of our breathing and the tiny sounds that escaped us. I loved her tits, loved to wallow in them, but I had to keep a cool head no matter how hot my body became. Work on her, work on her, make her go crazy! Her corset provided a formidable challenge but I unlaced it and got it off, leaving her only with her panties on and stockings rolled halfway down her legs.
I couldn't get over how willingly she submitted to me. She was on her back and about as passive as I had been the night before. I bent over her, my pussy pressed against her thigh, my bra chafing her soft breasts, and I kissed her and felt her up at the same time. My hand was deep down her panties, mauling a hairy cunt that had to be twice as big as mine. The matron might not have fucked many men but the entrance to her cunt hadn't been closed to much else. Two, three, of my fingers slipped inside so easily that I began to wonder about the size dildo she employed. The fourth finger entered after only a little pushing and stretching.
I had to get to know that part of her better. Quickly I moved down the bed and took off the big pink panties along with her stockings. In the dim light shed by the night bulbs I could make out the exact contours of her body, those massive tits in repose, her wide belly, the outcrop of hair between her whale-like thighs, and for a moment my heart pounded mightily at the sight of so much womanhood. She was two for the price of one!
I kissed her cunt and tasted the strong, earthy fluid secreted by her body. All woman! Then my four fingers moved back into place, pushing their way back into the slick passage leading to her womb, and she groaned out loud. I noticed that none of the women in the other cells made any remarks now that it was matron who was getting it. Maybe they were waiting to see what sort of changes it would produce in the matron, and in prison conditions generally. Whatever their reason for remaining silent, I certainly appreciated it. My thumb pressed against the four fingers and slid into her cunt.
"UUUUUUNNNHHHH!! " she grunted, and her body contracted as if in a muscle spasm. Both hands came down and seized my wrist. She went to pull my fist out but then she changed her mind. Her grip relaxed, her breathing resumed, and she waited while I got up some steam with which to move my trapped limb. Back a little, further forward, back, forward, pushing my fist in and out of her overextended cunt, working it until her muscles relaxed some more and made it easier on me. "YESSSSSSSSS!" she cried hoarsely. Her big soft body undulated with every thrust. I couldn't get over what I was doing! I was inside her up to my wrist and fucking her, in effect, acting like a man and making her behave like a woman.
I got on my knees and straddled her hips without removing my fist. Then, half-closing my eyes and giving full rein to my fantasies, I pushed at my arm with my pubic bone. It was like having a big cock! My emotions ran riot! I began to fuck her in all earnestness now, and my hand became as sensitive as I imagined a cock was. Yes, this was it, this was the life, fucking big matrons into submission. I heard myself grunting along with her, I sweated on her, panted, but I kept up a pounding beat. The matron came with loud shrieks and mad convulsions but not quite terminally. After each orgasm she set to building up for the next one right away, puffing, hissing, lifting her hips high up so I would have more access.
Her cunt slurped and stretched, juices splattering out to cover my face and body, and with every deep thrust she moaned and quivered, climaxing now and then, and my arm was getting sore from the exertion. Suddenly she grew very tense and silent, cramping up until she was almost folded double-and with an explosive sigh she came once and for all. She went limp and my fist-fucking no longer affected her. Just as well. I was exhausted. Once again she dressed and left me as if I was a mere dildo that had performed its function.