Chapter 1
Tiny little cobwebs fell apart in my brain, leaving a hazy trail of flesh images-an erect penis that grew larger until it was monstrous. But so beautiful a monstrosity! I liked the rise and fall of it, I knew that much. It was alive, much more alive than I was. It seemed to belong to me, that it should be buried in me somewhere. Warm and tight and cuddly in there. Where? Somewhere on my body there was an itch for it A damp itch, so familiar. "Patti," a voice whispered to my mind. "Is that your itch, Patti?"
"Yes, it's my itch. It's always been my itch. Scratch it for me."
And then the huge finger scratched my itch. The finger was as large as the giant penis.
Blackout
I couldn't remember-only something vague about a gentle guy and riding in a car. I couldn't remember anything else, not where I was or when, but I needed a drink. Easing my legs over the side of the bed, I went through my routine, the learned pattern of words that might bring my mind into focus. I was scared of not knowing, as all alcoholics are.
"Name?" I mumbled to myself, and answered: Tatti Cooper."
I couldn't be blamed if the Cooper wasn't up to date. There had been Carter and Tanis and Landson and maybe a couple of other names I didn't know about
"Age?" That was easy; twenty-eight but it felt like a thousand.
"City?" That one got me, and I held my head. Somewhere on the coast somewhere in California, but I didn't know what town.
Standing up, I swayed on weak legs and saw my purse on a table. Hands slipping off the catch, I managed to worry it open and damned near cried when I saw the money still there. Wherever I was, I could buy a bottle and make the shakes go away. I wouldn't have to corner some embarrassed guy and offer to screw him for the price of a bottle.
There was a glass in the bathroom. I put my mouth to the faucet and gulped cold water. It stayed down, so I splashed more over my face and neck. The mirror said I looked like hell-my hair matted and my eyes puffed, lipstick chewed away and my skin dry. I drank more water and wobbled back into the bedroom.
She was standing by the bed with a cup in her hand. She didn't look like any police matron I ever saw, nor like a burly psycho nurse, either.
"You're alive," she said, and the grin was nice.
I'm not bragging," I said, and tried again to light the cigarette, but the matches kept shaking themselves out
"Here," She put down the cup and held a flame for me. The smoke tasted like straw from a zoo cage.
"I brought coffee," she said.
I collapsed on the bed. The nursed looked clean and fresh and feminine. No dyke. I couldn't figure her out.
"Thanks," I said. "But you wouldn't have a drink around somewhere?"
"Not in this place. Try the coffee."
The cup jiggled and slopped over into the saucer. I gave up and pulled on the cigarette instead.
"Take your time," the girl said. I know how it is. I was in worse shape when I came here."
"Okay, so where is here? You don't fit the Salvation Army."
She laughed. "No way. I'm Janet Wagner, and this is Hope House,"
I waited, shaking inside and out.
"Hope House," Janet repeated. "A place for alcoholics. Maybe you could take some juke instead of coffee?"
"No matron?" I asked. "No starched nurses with muscles?"
"Nobody like that Just other alkies like me."
I watched my fingers act like snakes. "Yon mean I can walk out, just like that?"
"If you want to, but we hope you'll stay."
My lips started to quiver and I couldn't stop diem. It had been a long time since anybody was kind tome.
"I'll get some fruit juice," she said. "Just stretch out here. We're pressing your clothes. They were kind of wrinkled."
When she was gone, I stubbed out the cigarette and put my face into the pillow, wanting to cry, but the tears wouldn't come. I guess I had used up all my tears, and I still needed that goddamned drink.
Janet came back and the cold juice helped a little, as did the vitamin pills that came with it She even brushed some of the snarls from my hair and let me use her makeup. The flimsy nightgown was hers, too, and I thanked her for its use. I didn't ten Janet that I always slept naked; some women are funny about that
I found out Hope House is in Pacific City, California; dun I dimly recalled leaving San Francisco, heading south with some guy. Johnny, Jerry? It didn't matter. Their names never did-only their bodies, their strong and eager bodies with their hard, eager cocks.
Janet chattered on about Hope House, about how you paid your way if you had the bread, but it was okay if you were broke. You could send money when you got on your feet again.
She told me about the man bringing me in the night before, about a doctor giving me a jolt of paraldehyde before they put me to bed. I recognized that taste, still thick in the back of my throat, like ether.
"Why?" I asked.
Janet bunked. She's a small, curvy girl with a bright and open face. It was hard to believe she was also an alky. "Why are you here? You needed help, that's all. Mark said you were on the verge of the DT's when he ran into you."
"Mark?"
She put a soft hand on my arm. "You'll meet him later. He comes around almost every day. Mark's a graduate of Hope House."
I didn't remember Mark, but I did get a hazy picture of leaving the guy called Jerry or Johnny, of trying to down soup in a cafe, of somebody talking to me. But men always talk to me. I guess they can sense what I am, just by looking.
Maybe it's something about the way I walk, or the way I look back at them.
Ifs something else they fed-possibly a tangible aura only males can sense from a distance, the scent of a bitch in heat Whatever it is, they know, all right, and when they come to me, they're seldom disappointed.
I just can't let me alone. Men, not a man. They can come any size, shape or age, so long as they're male and hot I need hands running over my body, need a mouth on my own, and oh god-how I need a man to possess me. I mean I want them to possess me all the way, deep inside. But they fail. AH of them fail. Even when my hips are swinging and my legs are wrapped around them and their hard pricks are plunging into my burning cunt-they're failing.
Because in a small corner of my mind, I'm always laughing at them. I'm possessing them; they're not conquering me. You see, I'm what the shrinks like to call a nymphomaniac, but. one doctor said I have a Narcissus complex that makes me worship my body and demands that others worship it too. Maybe so; I like my body.
I'm proud of the way my full breasts arch, how they're so firm I never had to wear a bra. I like the sleek flare of my hips, the smooth line of my back and the soft texture of my skin. My legs are very good, long and tapered, with rounded thighs that are satiny to the touch. My coloring is about like old ivory, my hair thick and long, the color of midnight a man once said. My eyes are deep brown, when they're not bloodshot
"How old are you, Janet?"
"Twenty-two. I know that's kind of young to be in a place like this, but I've been a full-fledged alky since my early teens. It just caught up with me recently."
Everything about this girl seemed right up front, and I liked her. "That's honest enough."
"That's something you learn here," she said To be honest-first with yourself, then with everybody else. Mark says if s the first step to staying sober."
There was Mark again, the guy who'd brought me to Hope House and put me to bed alone. That was something in itself. Even on the edge of delirium tremens. I must have made a pass at him. Not many men will sidestep a direct offer, given the right place and time.
I learned that much about men just after I was married the first time. Waiting as long as I did is one angle of my problem that still has me puzzled, because I was a virgin when I married Don Carter; physically, anyway. Mentally, I was already a whore, because I had been dreaming about men ever since I had my first period. But something held me back until I married.
Maybe it was seeing Dad's temporary wives around the house, watching them play coy and cute with my father, and looking at me as if I was unfair competition. They were jealous of me, of the little attentions he paid me. The last one was happy to see me get married and move out
I guess marriage to Don began to fall apart on the honeymoon. I shocked hell out of him. There could be no doubt in his mind that I was cherry, so be was doubly shaken up at how I acted with him.
The first time he got the head of his young prick into my blazing pussy, it was as if a dam broke inside me, and my needs all came boiling out at once; the deluge damned near drowned my new husband.
We were in bed, and he was shaky when he slid in beside me, but my hand found his cock at once, and my heart was beating so fast I couldn't hear anything else. That shaft was throbbing in my fingers. I felt its strength, feh over the velvety knob of its head and knew the thrilling slippery juke that was gathering on the tip.
A man's balls snuggled into my palm, heavy and hairy and softly wrinkled, a man's gorged prick was thrusting against the skin of my trembling belly, and I went a little crazy, I guess. My teeth clashed against Don's. My tongue raced we and hot inside his mouth. My nipples were hard and pointy, boring into his chest, and my pelvis kept surging against his in hungry little humps.
"W-waited all my life for this," I murmured into his teeth. "Oh, how I need you, Don. Give it to me-put it in me-quick, quick!"
Later I learned that my husband needed time to build up to screwing, that he liked to play with my tits and finger around. But just then I didn't care for anything but my own maddened desires. I pulled him over on top of my twisting body and spread my legs wide. Hand shaking, I steered the spongy head of his beautiful cock into the crisply, deep curling of my damp pubic hairs. A great joy leaped through me when the tip of his wet prick began to work slowly but strongly into the eager opening of my pussy lips.
They stretched, gave like elastic, but too damned slowly. I humped my cunt up at him, my knees lifting and my back arching. The head of Don's cock forced its thrilling way into my labia, then penetrated into my quivering cunt I was tight and unused. He had to struggle to make it go all the way in. There was a moment of bright, accepted pain as the' walls gave way-then the marvelous sensation of having a man's prick slide all the way up into my slick vagina.
Oh, it was so good! It was something I had been craving all my young life. I squirmed in ecstasy upon the meaty shaft that filled my tight snatch. My legs went up and crossed themselves around the small of his back, urging him to bury his rod ever deeper into my pussy, and I pulled him down until his balls nestled against the cleft of my ass.
There was a gentle pressure against my clit and I wriggled to make it more, squirmed and ground my pelvis into his. Don began to stroke, to feed that adorable meat in and out of my clinging pussy, and I squeezed him tightly to me with arms and legs, trying to eat his cock up with the muscles of my vagina. My hips rolled and my tits mashed themselves flat against his chest.
"Fuck me!" I hissed against his throat "Oh, you beautiful man-you hard-dicked lover-fuck me hard, hard!"
Maybe he hesitated, but we were both too far gone for any of his hang-ups to show just then. Don stroked his cock into me, and I responded by heaving beneath him, swinging my ass and taking every inch of that delightful prick. I came very quickly, with a white, hot explosion that screamed through my pussy and fanned outward into every straining nerve end of my feverish body.
When I bit his throat and pressed my nails into the skin of his sweaty back, Don flinched, but kept pumping away, working that hard shaft in and out of my burning hole. Gasping and moaning, I fucked him back, riding high upon his rod, then falling back so that the flanged head was just barely held inside the jealous lips of my pussy. With a sensuous, grinding movement I gulped him all the way back into me, shuddering at the wonder of fucking, blinded to all but my own emotions and the passion that overwhelmed me.
"Baby!" he panted. "Oh-oh, baby-I'm going to-I'm coming, coming!"
I felt the first boiling drops as they squirted from the distended head of his embedded prick and splashed against my womb. I knew the marvel of a man's semen as it poured hotly into the cup of my pussy. Oh, it was so rich and creamy, so bubbly and exciting. Writhing upon his greasy rod, I came again, eyes closed and my teeth grinding almost as violently as my pelvis. It was magic and perfect and I damned myself for not fucking as soon as I had gotten big enough. There in the first orgasms of my wedding night, I was regretting the years of sex I had wasted.
We lived in suburbia, and I was the average young wife waiting for her husband to come home from the office every day. Almost average, that is. I always had a martini or two before I mixed a shaker for Don's before dinner drinks. The gin seemed to make waiting for him more bearable, and seemed to dull the edge of my sexual appetites, although never for long.
I don't think I did it consciously-I mean the first time I cheated on my husband. It was kind of unplanned, and maybe it was only natural for me, now that I think back on it
George and Anna lived next door, and we liked diem. My husband was working late and the silly kitchen sink stopped up. George came over to fix it
His hips brushed mine, and I guess I shivered. Don had been going to sleep early for more than a week, and the hunger was in me deeper and more ravenous than ever, since I knew what I wanted now. I couldn't help myself, I swear. George could have been anybody-the milkman, the newspaper kid, any male. Suddenly I was in his arms, moaning and running my bands over his back as I pressed my body hard to his.
I remember George very well, because he was the first man besides my husband to fuck me. He was somehow new and different, and excited me so that I nearly freaked out then and there. And he was willing. That's what I meant about not many men passing up a piece of ass if the time and place is right
His tongue forced its way into my mouth and licked my teeth, making it difficult for me to breathe. I clutched at his suddenly hard prick and felt him gasp as I squeezed the massive thing. It was huge, much bigger than my husband's cock, so big that it scared me a little.
He broke my hold, leaning down and catching my wrists. "You little bitch," he said, "you need a real man so bad that you can't stand it any longer. Get your dress up and I'll fuck you."
I felt dirty, like the tramp I was destined to become. I jerked back and slapped him full across the face. He grabbed me and I tried to knee him in the balls, not fighting him so much as doing battle with myself.
Then somehow I was on the couch, watching him climb out of his pants, seeing that massive cock standing up and out like a flagpole. There was a certainty in him, a male power that turned me on completely.
I've wanted to stick it to you ever since you moved in," George muttered, leaning to fumble at my dress. I lifted my ass so he could slip it off over my head.
Blindly, I ripped at him, caressing his heavy balls, fingering over the veined and throbbing shaft, knowing the feel and size of the head. That prick was the most lovely thing I had ever seen; so long and thick, flexing its shiny red dp, drippy with clear pie-seminal fluid that would ease its path into my cunt lips.
But George stunned me; he didn't mount me right away. Instead, he climbed on top of me so that his hairy balls were resting upon the mounds of my aching tits, and that threatening cockhead hung over my face.
I stared up at it, afraid but not panicked. Even men, I loved prick too much to be terrified of anything one might do to me, even though I had never even thought of kissing one.
Take h, you little bitch," George hissed. "Open your lips and take this in your mouth, or I'll just shove it down your throat"
I parted my lips, and he shoved the head of mat huge cock into them. I tasted man meat for the first time, and liked it My tongue raced around its ridge, and felt its way into the little wet slot Within moments, my instincts took over, and I was born sucking and chewing lightly upon Us cock, licking and puffing and loving every moment of it
But George didn't follow through. He was avid for the grip of my pussy, and pulled out to lower himself upon my wiggling body. He shoved that big prick between my spread thighs, and the wet knob found its way into the eager lips of my cunt as if it had eyes. Another powerful shove and he spread my labia wide to surge that heavenly meat home inside my ready vagina. I was suddenly full, when I had been so empty, and I could fed the head of it pushing strongly against my cervix.
"You never had it like this from that kid husband of yours, baby. Fuck away as hard and mean as you want to, because I'm going to pack you so full of come that you'll find it coming out of your mouth."
I believed him, wondering all the time he was grinding it to me, wondering how his frail wife Anna could find room for his gigantic cock. Then there was nothing in the universe but the mighty rhythm of his fucking, only the pounding of his balls as they slapped into the heaving valley of my ass, just the marvelous, growing, swelling power of screwing and being screwed.
I came twice before he let go. I came and moaned, fell back as he continued to impale me with his huge shaft; came again just before he did, the room whirling and my heart thundering in my throat. George stiffened and rolled me up on my shoulders, his semen hi-fag forth like a geyser, saturating my inflamed pussy with the magic fluid. It pumped and pumped, frothing and searing, until some of it dripped out and soaked into the couch.
Full force, I came, too. The lovely volcano went off in the vicinity of my vibrating clitoris, and its lava sprang torridly through my flesh and mind. We rocked and lurched and groaned together, and I knew very wen that this would not be the last time I would be fucked by this great bull of a man.
Even thinking about it made me ache for cock so much I could have cried.
"Hey!"
I looked up.
"Hey," Janet said again. "That's something else you have to learn. Stop thinking about the past, and stop blaming yourself for everything. At Hope House, everybody learns to live for today. Just today, not yesterday or tomorrow."
"Is that what Mark says?" I asked.
Janet looked at me. "Mark, and everyone else."
I wondered about this paragon, this Mark, and made myself a bet that he couldn't keep his hands off me next time. Just recalling Don and George made me itch for a man nearly as bad as I wanted a drink. But the itch wasn't as deep, not so strong as my body's demand for ease, for the peace of just one big, strong drink. Bourbon, scotch, gin, anything that would make these damned whips and jangles stop tearing me apart.
I'd even suck on a bottle of cheap wine, if mat was all I could get.
Another cigarette, this time one I lighted for myself, and I glanced over at my purse where the money was. Not a bunch of money, but enough to buy a couple of fifths and try to get my head straight
"Janet" I said, dry-lipped.
"Drink some more juice," she said. "It's mixed with honey. Please, Patti-drink the juice."