Chapter 4

Mirium Buschell had a loud mouth-the loudest mouth I ever heard on a woman except for her friend Gertie Grossell. When I found myself sitting between them at the Danny Wilson show in London, I wished, like no man ever wished, that I was deaf.

Frankly I was pretty pissed off as the Danny Wilson show is one of my favorite stops on the tour. Danny's a female impersonator-the best in the business. Without his female attire he looks like any well-built man: tall, muscular, with a chest that even Steve Reeves would be proud of. But the second he puts on his makeup: a long, blond wig in a flip style, one inch eyelashes and a lot of face makeup, forty-inch padded tits and thirty-eight inch padded hips, high heels and jewelry-well, he (or she) looks great!

The lights had dimmed and the show was about to begin. We were sitting in "the heavens"-the highest (and cheapest) seats in the theatre. Most people sit down below and to my mind it just isn't worth the money. "The heavens" afford privacy which is what we needed, especially for the people on the tour who get turned on by Danny and just can't help themselves. I can't blame them.

Danny appeared at the top of the stairs, wearing a gold lame dress and carrying a feather boa. Around him are twelve little "ponces" as they call them here in London, dainty sorts of fellows who serve as Danny's "handmaidens."

"Hey, look at that dress," exclaimed Miriam.

"Oh, Miriam, that must've cost him at least a thousand dollars," screamed back Gertie.

"I'd love one like that for Ira's Bar Mitzvah," yelled Miriam. "You think you can get one like that on Flatbush Avenue?" asked Gertie.

"Maybe," answered Miriam.

On and on they went, cackling like hoarse hens. You could hear them all over the Center Theatre- and they knew it. Even the people who were saying "Shhh" gave up after a while and continued to watch the show.

As the tour leader they were my responsibility; I would have to do something about it. What? I thought for a second: I had told them, even threatened them, to shut their mouths-to no avail. They had been extra-friendly to me, hovering around me like birds. I knew what they wanted-I'd give them a taste of it right now.

I put one hand on each thigh closest to me and gently ran my palms across them. Both were pretty hefty Women and their thighs were like tree-trunks-

38 soft tree-trunks and easy on the hands. They were wearing similar velveteen dresses and the material felt nice. I continued to run my hands back and forth on their thighs, moving further up towards the crotch and further down towards the knee. The cackling quieted down to a murmur.

However, when I rested my hands on each of their knees their voices started up again. If I had been provoked just a little bit more I would have punched them in the mouths-women or no women. As it was I took a different tactic.

I reached under their dresses, my fingers finding their way to the elastic rim of their panties. I whispered a silent "You're in luck," thinking how this really could have been fouled up if they had been wearing tights.

Both of them had ample stomachs (but not as ample as Sadie's) and their skin was surprisingly smooth. I stretched out my arms and massaged them gently. Not a peep came out of them. I wondered what kind of expression they had on their faces, but I decided not to look at them. In the first place, this "anonymity" was sexy in its way; in the second it was just too damn dark. I was glad for that.

I moved my hands lower down their stomachs to the point where their patches began. I gave a preliminary press and fondle; I could now hear them breathing.

I thought they'd jump out of their skins when my fingers suddenly crept under their elastic, low-waist panties. When I ran my hand over their patches they lurched forward in their seats, but when my fingers touched their pubic bones both of them sat back in their seats, their asses close to the edge. I moved forward in my seat just a few inches so that I could get at them better.

I rubbed their pubic bones, wondering if that would turn on both of them. You can never tell: some women feel nothing and others love it. It depends on the type of orgasm they most often have- and there really are two!

Miriam continued to breathe fairly regularly but Gertie started to heave and twist around in her seat, I worked both of them just a little bit longer> hoping that they'd both respond to the same thing-it would make the whole thing easier. They didn't: Miriam remained quiet and Gertie groaned.

I touched their holes: Miriam was dry but Gertie was moist. I'd have to do something about that situation. I plunged my index finger into Miriam's hole and played with her lower lips with the four remaining fingers. That did it: within seconds I felt her fluids on my fingers, her hole open wide and pulsating slightly.

With Gertie I did something completely different. I brought my fingers down on her clit and applied some pressure. She groaned, then groaned again, but not loud enough for too many people to hear her.

I looked at the stage: Danny was doing his third skit; if I didn't make this one fast it would be time for intermission and the lights would go on. I wasn't in the mood to be embarrassed by my maneuvers.

Again I plunged my finger into Miriam's hole. It was easy now as she was fully wet. Her hoarse breathing resounded in my ears but I kept on finger-fucldng her, going in as deeply as I could.

In the meantime, Gertie's clit was growing under my fingers. Fve seen clits and I've seen clits but hers was one of the biggest I'd ever encountered. It was filling up and becoming slightly hard and erect-a veritable miniature perns. Jesus Christ! She was moaning like a baby calf and straining herself against my fingers, trying to jump them without actually doing it.

In spite of myself I got aroused. Miriam and Gertie weren't my cup of tea, as they say, but the whole idea of bringing both of them off at the same time was pretty exciting. My prick gave a little start and lurched forward in my pants. A good hard-on; too bad Td have to wait for another time.

I slammed into Miriam as hard and as deeply as I could, my other fingers pressed on the inside of her lips. I could feel her contractions-she was almost ready.

Gertie was revelling in her juices and groaning "Oh, oh, oh." Was she up to Miriam? I wasn't sure. I began to rub her clit with my middle three fingers, beginning slowly and gently and then working her up to a point where a brutal rub would do the trick.

I had a momentary regret in my prick: I would have liked to have had a little work done on me as well but I contented myself with fingerfucking and rubbing and the feeling of the heat that seemed suddenly to surround us.

I peeked at the stage-I had about one minute more. Furiously I worked at them, the sounds of their combined "Oh's" piercing my ears. <cNow?" I whispered to them. "Now," they answered in unison, and with a few more slams and strokes I brought them over the top to the sounds of moans, groans, laughter ... and applause.

During the second half of the show they were as quiet as the dead and I didn't have to give them a repeat performance. I sat back in my seat and enjoyed the show.