Chapter 6

There hardly seemed any point in going back to try to collect my money, if I had any coming. I had dressed as hurriedly as I could and left without a word.

Mar had warned us not to let the man know that we knew her, so she probably would not get into trouble over it. But I would never see her again either, so I couldn't see that it made much difference one way or the other.

I felt like kicking myself several times. I had blown it with Sandy, and with Marlis and in the film business, where I might have made a little money.

I fucked up!

I wandered back toward Powell Street. I had money for a cup of coffee, so I went to the drugstore and pushed my way toward the counter.

As I sat down, I was aware of four people, the waitress, a fat and lumpy-faced old girl, two businessmen in blue suits, discussing the high cost of importing skis, and a woman of about thirty, who sat, munching a lettuce salad, on my right.

I had bumped her slightly as I sat down and apologized. I felt now an awareness in her of my presence. I can't tell you how a hustler knows this, but I seldom made a mistake. If I get vibes from someone, it means something.

I ordered coffee from the lumpy-faced waitress and asked the woman on my right to pass me the sugar, though there was sugar sitting right in front of me on the counter.

She was aware of this, as I expected her to be. I had done it, after all, to start up a conversation with her, a thing I knew she wanted.

Instead of following my opening, however, she slid me the sugar as though she were annoyed. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I heard Charlie's warning. Get out, he had said. Go some place.

"Oh," I said. "Here is some right in front of me."

She turned and smiled. She was afraid of me. She turned away for a minute, then, in a rush of courage, turned back and said, "Are you a student?"

"Yeah."

"Where do you go."

"Berkeley."

"Oh, that's good." Suddenly all the animation in her face dropped and after a moment she retreated in a rout of confusion.

"You a student?" I asked her.

This question delighted her primarily because she was too old to be thought a student Which is why I asked her if she was.

She turned back to me and smiled. Her smile was caked with apprehension. "No," she said. "Not for some time."

"But you have your B.A.? "

By her standards this was a fresh question. She looked at me blankly for a moment to let me know I had over stepped my bounds.

"Yes," she said after a delightful moment of playacting.

"In what?" I said, inquisitively, ignoring her announcement that I was being fresh.

"In what?" Her eyes opened wider, they were quite pretty and blue. She had one of those faces, in fact, that was really quite pretty but tended to close in around itself. -When she was old her face would be a series of lines that led ultimately to a small thin hole of a mouth.

She was already out of her depth. She gave in to my questioning.

"Sociology."

"That's a bore," I said flatly. "Do you like it."

"Well . . . " she looked at me like a thirty-year-old rabbit. "I.. . am a social worker."

"Yeah. Do you like it."

"Well?"

"Hasn't anyone ever asked you before if you like your job?"

"Well.. . no...not really?"

"But, I am asking you."

"Why?" She sounded the retreat

"Because I like the way you look and I'm interested in you. Come on, let's get out of here." I took her by the arm and led her off her stool, much to her surprise.

"You working now?" I asked.

"Wen...no...not really...where did you want to go."

I turned and looked down into her eyes and smiled as warmly as I could. "Your place," I said softly.

Her face was suddenly a riot of panic, flushing red and white. She opened her mouth. It was her last chance and she knew it. She opened her mouth again. She could rip her arm out of my hand and I would let her go.

"There's more to life than other people's problems, Miss Social Worker," I said, trying to muster a great show of compassion.

Suddenly she seemed composed once again. "I'll fix you lunch at my place," she said. "What are you studying, anyway."

"Studying?" It was my turn to be thrown off.

"Yes, at Berkeley. I like to talk to students. Being a student was one of the best times of my life. I sometimes ask people to my place just so I can talk to them about things that interest us both."

She was talking out of the bottom of a barrel. From Siberia or Alaska. She had transposed the situation in her mind, blocked what she knew was happening, and in a flash, told herself that she was just taking me home to talk about college.

"Oh," I said gently. That's nice."

We walked the several blocks to her apartment all the while she was telling me in a strained, short-of-breath way about her life at the University of Michigan, and I was telling her stories I'd heard from other people about my supposed life at Berkeley.

By the time she closed the door to her apartment behind us, she was a riot of nerves. She could hardly hang onto the doorknob.

Her apartment was the standard for her sort of life. There were more cookbooks on the shelves than anything else, the pictures were silly and sentimental.

I asked her what her name was, after a while. She had practically jumped and run into the kitchen after she settled me in the living room.

"Janice," she had called out.

"Janice," I called back to her, "that's a nice name." I could hear her scrambling pots and pans in the kitchen. "What are you trying to do out there," I called.

"I'm trying to make some soup," she said.

"If you don't quit it, you're not going to have anything left unbroken."

She stopped the clanging suddenly. I could almost hear her breathing.

"Janice," I called, "you're a virgin, aren't you?"

If anything, her breath stopped, too.

"Janice, are you a virgin?" I called again.

Still I heard not a sound from the kitchen. I crossed quickly to the door that separated us. She stood in the middle of the kitchen, a soup can in one hand and a pan in the other, her face white. Suddenly she caught her breath.

I stepped closer to her so that my body was against hers. I reached down and took the can of soup and the pan from her hand.

"How old are you, Janice," I whispered.

"Twenty-nine," she said.

"Twenty-nine and still a virgin?"

She swallowed and shook her head.

"Why, Janice?" I looked at her frightened eyes.

"Why?"

I looked around the kitchen to see if I could find some alcohol. All she had was a half bottle of wine. I fed it to her in the living room. All the time telling her that it was silly of her to have waited and been afraid, that I would show her how simple it all was.

I murmured in her ear and smiled at her, holding her hand. In all honesty I cannot say that I was that into it myself. In the back of my mind I heard the, by now familiar, warning, "get out now, boy, get out now." Instead, I rubbed my hand up her arm into the crook of her elbow.

Her head hung down, her eyes fastened on the seat of the sofa beside her.

"Janice," I said softly, "you're a good-looking woman, I want you. Do you want me?"

She did not look up.

"Answer me, Janice." I took her chin in my hand and turned her face toward me. "Do you want to take me to bed?"

She stared at me, her blue eyes widening a little, her mouth opening and shutting slightly, but no sound.

I looked into her eyes. "You feel dead inside, don't you?" I thought I saw a flicker of recognition in her eyes. "Even your head," I continued, "it's like an arid desert, isn't it? You think nothing is going on inside you right now, don't you." I still held her chin between my fingers.

"You're still young, Janice. I'm going to wake all that inside you. You don't have to do a thing at first. Later I'm going to teach you how to make love to a man. I'll try not to hurt you too much, I'll be easy with you at first. I want you to try to relax and if yon want me to do something, tell me so."

She closed her eyes tightly. She was shutting out a bitter sham. This action made me angry.

"I don't care," I heard my voice becoming hoarse, "if you think its dirty or whatever you think, you're going to get fucked!"

Her eyes opened and the spark of fear came back. I took my hand off her chin and begin unbuttoning her blouse.

"You ever even been in a heavy necking session?" I asked.

She still looked at me, wide eyed. A flash of anger shook me.

"Answer me, god damn it," I shouted. "Listen, you want this more than I do so don't tell yourself I'm raping you. Answer me!"

Her head began to shake. "A...little . . . " she said uncertainly. "A long time ago."

"Why?" I repeated the basic question.

"I don't know," she closed her eyes again and began shaking her head.

"Is there anything wrong with you?"

"No...."

I smiled, deliberately and warmly, to try to encourage her. "I'm going to take off your blouse," I said, "and then I'm going to take off your bra and then you are going to sit here while I feel your breasts and suck on them. Do you know what I'm going to do? I'm going to put my mouth on your breasts and you will feel things like you've never felt before."

She held her arm out as I slid the silk blouse off and unhitched her bra strap from the back.

Her breasts were small enough not to have sagged In twenty-nine years neglect, but large enough to fill my hands. As I did so, I felt the first tingling of sensation in my groin. Janice's eyes, too, burned into mine, craving compassion. Without taking my hands off her breasts, I leaned forward and pressed my lips against hers.

"Do I even have to teach you how to kiss?" I could feel the smoldering vapors of sex seeping through my body now. Pulling her face hard against mine, I forced her mouth open with my own and slid my tongue inside. At first she struggled, then collapsed into the embrace, letting my tongue explore the inside of her mouth. At last her own -tongue began to move, to feel, at first carefully, my tongue. The flame leapt up from my cock now, somehow my body knew that this was a virgin it was going to enjoy.

At last I pulled back from her. The question in her eyes when I did so was, "did I do something wrong?"

"I want to feel your breasts as you kiss me," I said. "Take off my shirt."

She looked at me without responding.

"Come on," I said, picking up her hands and putting them to the top button of my shirt.

Fumbling mechanically at first, she picked up expertise as she moved down my belly, struggling with each button. I held out my wrists to her to undo the buttons there.

"Okay," I said, "take it off."

She looked at me again, overcome with uncertainty.

"Look," I said, 'Tin not expecting you to be an expert in anything, but do as I say."

Obediently she put her hands to my shoulder and began pulling at the fabric.

"Here! You have to pull the shirt tail out first."

Her breath was coming hard in fear and agitation. I stood in front of her to make it easier for her.

"Pull it out"

With shaking fingers which refused to touch my flesh, she began to tug my shirt tail out of my pants.

I pulled my shirt off and grabbed her against me, pressing her naked breasts against me, feeling them against my chest. I kissed her this time, not concealing my excitement from her. Her arms slid around my back. I felt her hands, uncertain and cold, hold me.

I probed her mouth with my tongue, stirring her to this until her own tongue crept uncertainly into my mouth. I moaned and panted, showering her face with kisses, then slowly dropped down to keep my promise, I slipped one ripe breast into my mouth and gently sucked.

Her breath caught again and held for what seemed the longest time. Fear fought with desire in her, the struggle inflaming me.

Still sucking on her tit I unbuttoned and unzipped the back of her skirt. Fear won over once again inside her, but my hands were desperate to fill themselves with this untouched cunt, my fingers to prod into the vales of this unslit virgin. I pushed her to her feet hard against me, and yanked her skirt down over her hips.

"Oh, no," she was suddenly sobbing in my arms. "Oh, please don't"

It was too late even to tell her it was too late. I filled my hands with the silky fabric that covered her hips and disposed with it. She cried out again, making me realize I had ripped her panties off.

"Paul!" she was screaming. "Paul! Paul...don't hurt me!"

I was brought to myself again.

"I'm sorry," I panted. "You turn me on."

It was this that sent the first shudder of pure desire shivering through her frame.

"I want you, Janice. I have to have you!"

She quivered in my arms. Her hands began moving on my back, hesitantly experimenting with the feel of me in her arms.

I kicked off my boots without disturbing her newfound pleasure.

"Janice," I said hoarsely, "take off my pants."

Her hands stopped on my back, stopped dead and did not move.

Suddenly, as though I had forgotten, I realized that her body lay entirely open to my exploration.

"Never mind," I said. I pushed her back from me.

Once again she flashed the look of rejection.

"I'm sorry," I grinned. "I didn't mean that." I held her at arm's length and looked down her body. It was trim and athletic, a little thin perhaps, but that only served to emphasize the small-ness, the vulnerability, the pure pleasure I would have penetrating her.

"You look good." I slid my hand down one side over her hip, then the other, savoring the sensation of her silky white skin under my hand.

"Don't look at me like that," she said, her voice quavering.

"Why not?"

"I...I don't know," she stammered, "I.. . . " She threatened to break down in tears again.

I rolled my hand over her hips and held her waist, pulling her to me so that she almost fell, pressing her breasts into my chest once again and planting my lips on hers until her tongue was working with mine. Then slowly I slid my hand down over the soft swell of her belly till my fingertips tangled in the soft, curly down. Her tongue stopped in my mouth, waiting. Slowly my fingers inched deeper into the soft fluff of hair, the flesh beneath my fingers became softer and more giving. I pressed softly, kneading my fingers into the pliant mound, pushing further downward till my middle fingertip felt the division of flesh. Her bodily function had once again stopped in my arms, she took no breath nor murmured any sound. Slowly I sank my finger between the lips of her cunt. I stopped there waiting for her to get used to this sensation. She was dry, fear had not allowed the normal juices to flow out of her.

"Relax," I ordered.

Her breath caught suddenly in a large intake.

"Oh, no," she murmured, but I felt her legs open slightly around my hand. She lay her face down on my chest!

I moved my finger between her cunt lips, slowly at first, trying to stir the moisture that I would need to enter her. I put my finger on her little clitoris, deep between the surrounding hills of flesh. It erected instantly under the pressure of my finger. A great sob escaped her body. I filled my hand between her legs, grasping all of it at once.

My own body was in a tremendous heat. My struggle to retain control was a losing one. I could no longer speak. Without taking my hand off her crotch, I pushed her back and lowered my head, slipping my lips over her nipple and pulling on it with my tongue.

"Oh, no", " she gasped. "Please stop."

The steel was forged between my legs, she knew there was no stopping. I reached down and unbuckled my own belt with one hand, pushing my pants down on my thighs. It was when I began to rid myself of my shorts that she became aware of this last barrier between us being torn down, when she knew that nothing stood between the innocent, sealed lips of her vagina and the hard sword between my legs.

When my cock jumped out naked and wet, prodding her leg, I thought she might faint. I did not stop prodding her breasts with my tongue nor carefully plunging my finger in and out of her gradually wetting cunt lips. I slid my fingers up and down in her canal, carefully feeling the fold of virginal flesh that had never been displaced. Slowly I slid my finger under it and slowly stretched it outward, letting the tip of my finger slide in slightly. I did not want the shock to be too great when the glans itself slid inside her.

She would not lubricate as well as she must to permit me to enter her, so I began pushing her back onto the sofa until her knees backed up against the edge, then I pushed her down. As she sat down her face was at the level of the weapon she was being prepared for. When she saw it standing out toward her, its purple mouth open and dripping, looking, no doubt, much too big, she closed her eyes and turned her head sharply away.

I did not know what had happened, she seemed to go almost into shock. Her head turned against the back of the sofa, her eyes tightly shut as though they had seen something terrible. Then I realized it was the greedy monster sticking out of my loins that she had seen. I could not help but grin at that. How much she would enjoy that greedy monster in a few days time if she were given the chance.

I knelt down in front of her, being careful that the rod of punishment slid down her leg as I did so. I could feel the flesh of her body recoil at my touch. I took her hips in my hand and pulled them forward on the sofa, kneeling between her legs. They parted around my body. I pulled her hips forward to the edge of the sofa.

Slowly I lowered my head between her legs, kissing her belly and putting my tongue out to slide down into the muff of hair. Letting the juices run in my mouth until my tongue was wet, I slid it down between the lips of her cunt.

I opened her legs wide and held them open with my shoulders. Placing the fingers of both hands on the lips of her vagina, I spread them wide, pulled them apart until everything was standing out uncovered. Then I wet my tongue and glided it over the soft private flesh, tasting the clean, virgin, secret sweetness, licking until my tongue was dry then wetting my tongue and licking still more.

I examined the heavy fold of virgin skin, which had covered by three-fourths the soft joyful hole for all those years. I maneuvered my tongue under it, tasting the musk that had begun to well up inside it. My head began to whirl at the thought of slipping up inside this virgin crevice, of feeling the protecting defense give and tear under the heavy onslaught of my own cock, of pushing mercilessly inside, like putting one's finger into an unsplit orange.

Putting one arm under her back and the other under her knees, I softly picked her off the sofa into my arms. I did not know what I wanted to do with her, she lay like a dead thing in my arms. The sensation had been more than she could bear, she was entirely conscious but she had abdicated the responsibility to me.

At last I saw what I wanted, a low coffee table under the window. There were several things on the table, an ash tray, a vase of flowers and a book. I tipped the table up on end with my foot, sending everything crashing to the floor, then I lay my prey down on her back. Next I found two pillows and lifting her ass, put them under it. Then I spread her legs wide open. Her furred split mound lay before me.

I knelt down between her legs once again, noting as I did so that her cunt was at the right level as I stood upright on my knees, my cockhead directly knocking at the unopened door. I pulled my hips forward until the purple head pushed against the helpless flesh for a moment to make sure.

"Perfect," I said out loud.

She was not yet wet enough, though; so once again I knelt my head between her legs and began paying her the homage of my tongue, wetting, gently pushing into every crevice of her and occasionally tasting the sweet mixture that crept up out of the still unbroken deepness of her.

So total was her abdication that I was encouraged to think of her entirely as my creature, my object. It occurred to me that since I wet her with my tongue she could do the same for me. I stood up; then, straddling both the coffee table and the girl's still body, I moved over her until my balls hung down between her breasts. With my hand I made my cock touch her lips. Much to my surprise they obediently fell open. Slowly I pushed myself forward and up, angling my glans at the end of their stalk downward into the seemingly willing mouth. When I had engaged her mouth, an enterprise which took only a small portion of my member, I ordered her to close her mouth.

"Suck," I told her. "Get it wet so I can get it into you."

As she had gradually stirred to my tongue inside her mouth, she gradually woke to the heavy end of my sex, slowly, hesitantly closing her inexperienced lips around my thick cock shaft. I watched closely how they molded themselves around the white, veined stalk.

After a moment, when she went no further in her exploration of the organ in her mouth, I flexed my hips slightly, pumping it in and out a fraction of an inch. She immediately picked up the idea and her tongue began to move inside, exploring first the section where the glans meet and diminish, then sliding her tongue first up one side then the other, exploring then the dragons head itself.

By the time she was through exploring this first male tit of her life, I was moaning quietly, the sensations gently waving up through my body from her wet mouth. Her hand had come into play by the time I pulled out of her, holding the lollipop to her mouth by its stick.

I pulled out of her mouth with a suction that promised disastrous results and dragged the load down her smooth body until once again I knelt between her spread legs. Pushing my pulsing organ toward her, I prepared for the supreme moment.

I separated the heavy, haired lips with one hand and grasped myself with the other. I paused for a moment to enjoy the sight, to speculate as to what it would look like when that hard unbending stake had been driven into the soft wet flesh.

Bending forward so that my thrust was down, but still not missing anything of the proceeding with my eyes, I applied the head of my cock to the center of the channel just above what I could see was the virgin fold. From experience, I knew the entrance must be made from above, slipping the cock in a downward thrust so that it slipped under the virgin protection. When the hymen was bulging with the cockhead locked under it, then the glans was only lodged against the actual opening itself, not yet penetrating.

Slowly I slid the rod down through the channel, savoring the delicious tightness, slipping it by the protecting skin once again, my juice oozed onto the folds of flesh, wetting them.

I leaned farther forward and pushed my cock straight down through the channel, hard against the inside, pressing down slowly with great force. My prick caught against the obstruction, then the tip slipped under slightly! It seemed almost possible that I might make my entrance at once.

My head raced at the delicious rare moment, but suddenly the soft fold slipped away, releasing me.

I tried several times stroking heavily down, catching sometimes, missing altogether other times, becoming more frantic with each thrust. At last I put my finger under the fold and positioned my cock just above it, aimed downward as before. I held the hymen out with my finger and slipped my cockhead downward toward the opening.

The tip slipped under! I pushed harder. At last the head was entirely under the bulging fold of virgin skin, its back hard against the still unpenetrated throat It is necessary at this point to change the direction of the drive from down to in. Slowly, I altered the thrust to bring myself down, . making sure the head stayed caught under the hymen until I could feel the tip slide inside the vagina itself.

Janice moaned heavily all at once. I had forgotten she even existed. It was the moan of pain and pleasure that must come with this first experience, especially after twenty-nine years. I looked up at her. Her mouth was still open as I had left it with my prick.

She looked younger. She looked suddenly like a woman, as though all the tenseness had evaporated from her face and, even in the pain she was feeling, she had the expression of relief.

Slowly, looking at her face as I did so, I began the hard shove that drove the stake inside her. Her mouth expressed the pain she felt her eyes expressed the joy, though they clouded over with tears which spilled over and ran down her cheeks.

I drove myself all the way up the tight channel of virgin flesh and pleasure, concentrating on the almost unbelievable sensations raging through my body as I became engulfed in that tight-fitting sheath of womanhood.

Looking down again I saw the beginning of blood coloring the base of my cock and running into the hair. It was the tightest little sheath anyone had ever encountered. I had not aimed, but leaned in hard and sent everything in one long plunge. She was wet as hell now, with blood and come, but tight as a rubber boot. She clung to me, every inch gripped by a fantastic pulsing cunt.

I could have come again right then, without ever making another pass, but I wanted her to feel the stroking, I wanted her to know what it was like to make love. The blood and slime oozed out around the base of my prick, displaced by the length and girth which now filled her.

Slowly I withdrew myself from her. tight, little hole. Slowly I pulled out against the suction of her filled maw, pulling her inside flesh a little out as I did so. My cock had taken on the pink of her virginal blood, the come juice was all pink. When I was out, I could see the tear in the virgin fold. Sweet Jesus, it sent a shot of heat racing through my still pounding veins.

I pulled her a little further down on the table, letting her butt hang over, and pointed my cock-head in the crease where the buns met the Venus mound. She was slimy with come and sweat and blood, and pushing now, against her slime, my dick slid automatically toward the right hole. I leaned back slightly, grabbing her thighs with my hands and pulling myself forward, I pushed inch by inch into her, into the wet bloody passage that was now so open and easy to enter.

I savored it, closing my eyes and letting the sweet smell of sex fill my nostrils and send my head reeling. The room itself smelled of the musky sticky aroma. I hoped she could smell it.

When at last my groin was planted again against her, I was covered with the juices we had mixed together in the cauldron of her body. My belly was wet and my balls dripped. As for her, her cunt hair lay matted and beaten against her body, streaming and dripping the sweet mixture of blood, sweat and come.

Deep inside her, it was my own world. The soft folds of her molten orifice grew hotter and more active. She had not yet climaxed but had continued to grow hot. It was the stretching which finally set her off, the stretching and the endless length of hard penis which was being shoved into her. She came softly, as though in confusion. I wondered if it might be her first climax. Surely, even twenty-nine-year-old spinsters masturbated. She did not thrash about as most did, but instead wet her lips. The tears ran out of her eyes now, but she did not make a sound. Mostly I was aware of what was happening to her by the riot of sensation that her cunt was sending up my cock. Every fiber of her had come alive and undulated around my prick deep inside her.

I increased my hold on her thighs and started driving into her furiously, thundering down on her until my crotch hurt and my balls hurt with the racking smashing they were taking. I pulled her back to the edge and pulled my dick out, only to drop down on her again and again and again. Still she seemed to deny the orgasm I had driven her to. It was welling up inside her, shaking her body but she did not make a sound or let her face record the detonation which was taking place inside her.

All at once, I do not know how it started, I felt the hot flare of madness overcome me. It hit my brain like a bullet. I jackknifed forward, driving my machine into her with all the strength my body possessed. I felt the sweaty flesh of her breast under my mouth. I took it between my teeth and bit down. I sucked her breast into my mouth and bit down until the sweat and blood filled my mouth with a hot, terrible taste. I felt the sudden convolution of her body and the desperate grab on my prick deep inside her. She screamed out. A terrible painful scream. But it did not stop. The scream sailed off into the corners of the room and up the hallways, filling the big building with its piercing ring. I could hear the building come alive around us, the steps in the hall, the thunder of concerned footsteps from overhead, the sudden ring of the doorbell.

Sweet release! I sprayed the inside of her with sperm, filled her oozing, bloody, torn body with heavy sprays of hot sperm. My cock was a fire hose, swollen with its own wet load, searing the inside of her with hot sparks.

Then, like a drugged man, I pulled myself out of her and staggered to the door. I opened it wide. There were several people in the hall. I heard someone scream, someone else shouted something.

"It's all right," I mumbled. They were running up the halls back to their own doors before I closed the door and, stuffing my bloody cock into my pants, cleared out