Chapter 10

The two were gone when I woke up with a hell of a hangover, my eyes blurred with pain and my temples banging, a dirty, tacky taste in my mouth. I felt the bed beside me, but I was alone in it. When I sat up, I thought I was going to be sick, but the queasy sensation passed.

There was half a bottle of whiskey on the bedside table, and I breathed a sigh of relief. For a few seconds, I didn't know where the hell I was, but after awhile, it came back to me. I was at Darla's house, and there had been a couple of really sexy kicks. I uncorked the bottle and rinsed my mouth with the stuff. It didn't gag me, so I swallowed some and waited to see if it would stay down. When it did, I had another jolt and swung my legs off the bed.

In the bathroom, I found aspirin, and gulped three. Darla had put my stuff in there, and I found my toothbrush. With the fur off my teem, and my bladder emptied, I climbed into the shower and soaped myself from head to foot under hot water. I even washed my hair, then got up the nerve to slowly change the hot water to cold. Shivering under the icy downpour, I stuck it out until my head cleared and I could feel the blood moving under my skin.

Toweled dry, I went naked back into the bedroom and found my cigarettes. Two drags, and I had another small drink to bring back the glow. I felt pretty damned good, really. The headache was easing, and my stomach wasn't bouncing up and down. I was even ready for breakfast. Finding a sheer robe in the closet, I wrapped it around me and went looking.

Breakfast, hell; the clock in the kitchen said two in the afternoon, so it had to be brunch. I seemed to be the only one around, so I discovered eggs and bacon and made a fair meal of them, with coffee and toast. I felt great, but I could sense the glow wearing off and knew I'd better do something about it, or I'd start that long slide into depression.

Back in the living room, I went behind the bar and mixed a Bloody Mary; it tasted pretty good, so I had another with my cigarette. By the time

I'd finished it, Darla came wobbling down a hallway and went directly for the bottle. She drank from its neck, made a sick face, and put down the bottle with trembling hands. "Hang in there," I said.

"Shit," she said, and drank some orange juice spiked with vodka. That sat better with her, and she made it to the couch with more of the same.

"Quite a night," I said. "Are the kids sail here?"

She shook her head and winced. "Damned if I know. Look, darling-let me get straightened out before you ask too many questions, okay? Wait a minute, Patti; I didn't mean to sound bitchy."

"I know how it is," I said, "but I feel surprisingly good. Maybe I didn't drink all that much last night I keep thinking about those two, about Kent and Angel. They are really something else. I hope they come back before long."

She groaned. "Already hot to swing, Patti? Damn; I sure had you pegged right You're a raving nympho, darling."

I lifted my glass. "And you're glad."

By the time she'd had her bath and some cold cereal, Darla was a lot happier, and there were glints in her eyes. "Hey," she said, "why don't we get hold of somebody else for you? I mean, we can bring in the kids later, if we want them. But I know how you adore a man's prick, and I think I'd enjoy watching you make it with another man, as well as an eighteen and nineteen year old."

I looked through the golden Nepenthe in my glass. "Why not, Darla? The trouble is, I don't know anybody around town. Only Johnny, and he-"

I frowned, thinking about Johnny and the way he'd fled from the meeting room after I'd laid him. Well, I hadn't twisted his arm, and I didn't force him to run out and tie on a drunk. That was his own idea, wasn't it?

There's Mark," Darla suggested.

"Mmmmm," I answered. Mark, the guy who brought me in to Hope House, the guy everybody seemed to listen to, almost as much as they did old Dan. Would Mark screw me, then run for his life, as if he'd gotten his cock dipped into a black widow spider? Or would the sanctimonious son of a bitch try to lecture me about staying sober? It might be interesting to try. "Why don't you call him?" I asked Darla. "He might still be riding his white horse, and if he thought one of us needed his platitudes, he'd come rushing right over here."

Giggling, she marched to the phone and dialed the number without having to look it up, and I wondered how many times she had been in Hope House, how many times they might let you come back and try again.

I shook off that feeling. What the hell-I was doing just fine, and I could show that clown a few things, if he had the gats. Darla put on quite an act on the phone; she even had me believing that she was sick and sorry, and I went back to the bar while she laid it on thick. She winked at me after she hung up. lie's on his way. Look, I have an idea. Go on down the hall to my bedroom; you can't miss it-it's the one with all the mirrors. I'll send him down there when he arrives, and the rest is up to you."

"Okay," I agreed, the alcohol racing through my blood and making my head light

I was under the sheet when I heard the door buzzer, and lay listening to the hum of conversation, then to the sound of footsteps coming down the hallway to the door. My eyes closed, I heard hm say softly, "Patti!"

Waiting until he sat down on the bed and put his hand on my forehead, I murmured as if I was sleepy, and kicked down the sheet to expose my body. I felt him stiffen as he saw my lush body, the soft thicket of pubic hair between my full thighs, the excitement of the hippies on my aching breasts.

He started to do something-get up, pull the sheet to cover me, something-I didn't let him. I wrapped my arms around his neck and drew him down, covering his surprised mourn with my hungry lips and darted my hot tongue in deeply.

Mark resisted; he tried to pry my arms away, but my teeth clashed across his, and I could feel the beating of his heart, the pulsing of his blood. Squirming, I brushed my tits across his chest and got one leg over his body, damning the clothes that were between us.

"P-patti-no; you don't know what you're-"

"The hell I don't," I hissed into his panting mouth. "I want you, Mark. I need you to screw me: I have to feel your prick between my thighs. Come on, Mark-come on! Or have your balls dried up since you've been sober?"

I was tearing at his shirt then, ripping it open to bite into his broad and hairy chest, and beneath the palm of one hand, I felt his prick growing, swelling with eager blood. I had his pants down over his knees when he slapped me.

Head ringing, I stared at him, and he said, "You bitch! I don't have to be drunk to be a man. You want to be fucked, do you? Okay-you're going to be fucked, but it'll be my way!"

The mirrors around the walls and on the ceiling reflected a hundred expanded pricks as he kicked out of his clothes; they showed me two hundred hairy balls swollen in his crotch, and his hard strong thighs. He came at me like a bull, bearing the weight of his body down upon me, clamping his hands upon my breasts and hurting them. I winced and tried to slide out from beneath him, because suddenly he was scaring the hell out of me.

Tangling one hand in my hair, he slammed my head back upon the pillow, and thrust a palm between my thighs. I tried to keep them together, but he forced them apart and jammed a finger into my labia, prying them open and feeling into them. He hurt, damn him. I bucked against his hand and twisted off his finger, spitting like a maddened cat, wanting to claw out his eyes.

Who did this son of a bitch think he was, some kind of special gift to women? The hell he was; I didn't even like him. So I fought him as best I could, but his knee pried open my own, and I felt my pussy going soft and damp against his flesh. Damn it, it wasn't just because of him; it happened this way with almost any man who got that far between my legs. One touch, and I was lost, caught up in my own dark frenzy of lust

Mark was bearing down on me, using his weight to hold me in position, clamping both my wrists in one strong hand, using his free one to steer the expanded head of his big cock into place. It moved through my pubic hairs and set itself powerfully into the slick opening of my labia. With a twist of his ass and a hunching of his pelvis, Mark drove that rigid meat home.

It pierced me like a thick lance, sliding inside my elastic cunt lips and reaching far up into the quivering velvet sheath itself. Mark's prick was long and heavy, with a beefy head that was hard as steel inside its spongy cap. I tried to lie still, to deprive the bastard of any rolling response, but my body betrayed my head and started to lurch, jerkily at first, but then picking up a slippery, grinding rhythm that was a perfect match for his own.

"Let me go, damn you!" I panted, writhing my belly against his and striking at his pelvis with my filled mound.

"Shut up and fuck," he said, and continued to pound that solid meat full length into the depths of my shuddering pussy, cramming his puffy cockhead against the trembling cup of my womb. I had no choice, no choice at all. I was forced to fuck him back, to ride his driving pole as my mind went blank of everything else except the lasciviously gratifying action of his prick.

He was a man, a male, rodding me deeply with the powerful strokes of his shaft, hammering that swollen joint into me without tenderness, without mercy. And that was how I loved it most-primitive, raw sex, fucking reduced to its basics, without frills or phony romance, just a blind, savage ramming and recoiling, a brutal twisting and wrenching.

It was terrific, and I felt a convulsion burst throughout my hungry cunt, a bright explosion that sensitized every nerve in my straining body. But still that flanged head continued to reach up against my uptilted cervix, still kept up its churning action, and I wrapped my legs across the small of his back to drag his cock ever deeper into my surging cunt

Struggling to free my hands, I tried to get my arms around his neck, but Mark held me pinned helplessly. The bastard was forcing me to be submissive, using me as he damned well pleased, rutting upon my trapped body for his own pleasure and not even considering mine. But he couldn't control the inner workings, and I fought him with my crotch, the undulating attacks of my hairy pelvis and the ravenous suction of my pussy itself.

He pressed one splayed hand down into my groin, but I struck up at his pistolling meat anyhow, twisting upon its base, sliding up and down upon its greasy length, feeling the swing of his balls into the cleft of my ass.. .

Jerking and heaving, I came again, my inner juices flowing copiously, making it hotter and more soupy, for his plowing, probing cock, vibrating the wet envelope of my satiny flesh around that knotted glans. Still Mark didn't let go his own load; his shaft was stiff as ever, and he only stepped up the speed and power of his bull-like thrusts.

But he did change positions, by simply rolling over while his prick was locked into my clenching vagina, by simply pulling me over on top of him. He had to let go my hands to do it, but I couldn't even think of punching at him. Bracing my palms against his wide chest, I used diem for balance as his shaft rose inside my inflamed cunt, as he drove it up into me with vicious strokes.

My ass jolted with every bang, and dropped back along the slidy pole to his pelvis, to his swollen balls and the thick matting of hair that surrounded him. Grooving and squirming upon that sweet meat, I wobbled to yet another earth-shaking climax, and the searing waves seemed to crest deep within my palpitating vagina.

It wasn't enough for Mark. He had the damnedest staying power I had ever run into, but I didn't put it down. In a frenzy of passion, I could fuck all day, and come back for more as soon as I caught my breath. My love oil foamed around his sliding rod, and I was reaching for yet another marvelous orgasm when he broke the rhythm and pulled his buttery shaft from my pussy.

But not for long; clamping both hands onto my waist, Mark rolled me over onto my belly and got my thighs spread just wide enough for him to force the knob of his cock back into the dripping lips of my steaming cunt

Mark fed it into me from behind, hunching it to me as if I was a bitch dog and he was mounting me before the rest of the pack got there. Clawing at the twisted sheet under my hands, digging in my knees, I chewed on my lower lip and rolled my ass, ground it furiously upon his plunger, feeling the knot reach all the way up.

He couldn't keep it up forever, and maybe he thought he was humiliating me by banging me dog fashion, but I really didn't give a damn which end of me was up, -so long as I got screwed. Then I could feel the fury of his thrusts slackening, turning jerky and uncoordinated. Swiveling my hips madly, bucking against him and with my vagina clamping down upon his trapped cockhead, I hurried to reach the cresting with him, to make my orgasm touch off at the same time.

Shuddering, Mark buried his prick full length into my boiling cunt and the knob flexed, convulsed and shot forth a geyser of hot fluid as he came. His semen was plentiful bubbling out with a foamy richness, scattering the length and breadth of my flooded vagina, hurting globules of thick cream at the target of my womb and ebbing down the pussy walls to puddle around the stem of his throbbing shaft

At last, the stallion had come; finally, he had been weakened by the release of his pressured semen, and now he was sagging over my body, drained by the overwhelming violence of his release. So he had fucked me his way, doing it all by the method he wanted, but in the end, I had won out, as always. I was stronger now, I had taken him, possessed him, far more than he could triumph over me.

While he was hesitating, as his balls snugged tenderly against the backs of my thighs, I gave a twist that carried me forward and snapped his still dripping cockhead from the slippery glove of my slit Mark had to put down his hands to catch himself, and I slid from beneath him and rolled onto my back, my eyes laughing up at him.

"Big man," I said. "Don't you know you can never fuck down a real woman? Come on, Mark-climb back between my legs and put it to me some more. Feed your meat deeply into my cunt and make me wiggle. Come on, baby-what's the matter?"

He sat on the side of the bed, his back to me. I watched him drag air into his lungs and let it out again. He said slowly, "A real woman, Patti? You're not a real woman. You're a cunt, a mouth and an asshole-just parts of a woman."

"You son of a bitch," I spat, "you sure as hell wanted me. You couldn't keep yourself from screwing me, could you?"

He stood up and found his shorts, his pants, pulling them over his muscled legs. "I had a hard-on, no more. And I'm not Johnny; I won't get all torn up because I roughed up a horny bitch who begged me for it. I won't go crawl in a bottle, because sex and alcohol have to ride together in my life. They don't, Patti. Not with me. With you and Johnny, but not with me."

I stared up at him as he tucked in his shirt. "Me? What the hell do you mean, me? I don't have to be smashed to swing with anybody, man or woman or kid. You hear me, Mark-you hear me?"

At the door, he turned. "Do you hear yourself?"