Chapter 2
Bare boobs flashed in the mirror as the lights went on. Jessica saw the taut titflesh, still streaked with perspiration, jutting boldly from beneath the raggedly fringed bottom hem of her half-removed sweatshirt.
"Nice tits, Jessica," she complimented herself with a tart smile.
She adjusted the glare of the bare overhead light-bulb to a tolerable gleam and withdrew her fingers from the wall-mounted light-dimmer switch. She scratched one breast with her thumb, tweaking the nipple in passing.
The niptip crinkled and thickened.
Felt good.
"Be good to yourself, Jessica," she said "If you aren't, no one else will be."
Jessica stretched her arms above her head and rolled the tight sweatshirt to her wrists. Facing the reflection of her nude torso in the mirror, she saw the pink nipples of her breasts-both of them now hard and hurting-peeping out from the lanky strands of her long frosted-blonde locks.
She took hold of them and tugged.
Hard.
Seemed that what she did to herself was her only pleasure these days.
She twisted her tits firmly.
Eased into the pain.
"No pain, no gain," she mused.
And twisted them again.
Blasts of heat turned her spine liquid.
The juices of her loins began to sizzle.
She tightened up.
Bit her lip as she darted her fingernails deep into breastflesh.
Eased into the shafts of pain.
"Thank god it's midnight."
Jessica could take a shower, take a chill-out pill.
Take her mind for a ride. Take off in her dreams.
She tossed her head, whipping her tresses away from the titflesh like a stage curtain. She smiled wanly at the thought of her pert nipple-tips being the twin attractions.
For her eyes only.
"Tough titty, said the kitty to the lonely girl. Too bad; those tits are pretty."
Behind her, she saw the reflection of her nearly barren studio apartment. Since painting the place by herself over the weekend, Jessica had barely had time to move in her belongings, in between her long hours at work and her daily workout.
A spasm of excitement hit her.
She could hardly wait.
The anticipation of orgasm rinsed over her.
It had been a hell of a day.
One of many.
Monday was often a day of overkill, as Jessica tried to review the press releases and wire stories that had come into the news bureau over the weekend. Today she had filed half of the documents without so much as looking at them-and had still been at work until ten in the evening.
She dropped by a bakery that was open late and bought some hot-crossed buns. Because they reminded her of England and of the Lady Godiva story she had researched for Alexander.
He had been out of the office today and Jessica didn't even know if he'd had time to go over it yet. Her clit sang at the thought of his cock. She was interested in his reaction to her work, and told herself it was solely in the interests of her career-not with any intention of getting his cock into her rear.
Jessica had gone out for a quick jog around her new neighborhood in downtown Manhattan as soon as she had returned home to her still-unfamiliar digs.
During her late-evening run she had noted the colonial-period townhouses. Several neighborhood pubs with dark interiors of wood and brass. The tiny garden spaces and squares that adorned the neighborhood.
She pictured how it must have been in colonial New York.
It was always wild in the streets of New York.
In the clubs and the pubs and the townhouses and the parks.
And she saw them in her mind.
Imagining therein fucking couples.
Exciting herself with her imagination.
Spying on colonial libertines and bawdy wenches afuck in period costumes. Tricorn hats. Fur collars and knickers. Feathered boas and full, petticoated skirts hiked up high on the haunch.
Wantons wanting.
Rogues rutting.
Couples coupling. And more.
Stripping and whipping, and other stylish deviltry.
Pewter mugs hoisted. Toasts to fuel the steaming pleasures of the yeasty ale-tanged gilt-and-silver showers of pizzle upon the wry faces of brazen maids.
Licentious courtesans in Sapphic embrace. Their fuckstressing bodies in the abandoned throes of lesbic cunnilingus and flattyfuck.
"Mistress Jessica. You have the finest thighs in these new United States."
The dream-Jessica slung her legs about the hips of a rogue who looked like a face off a piece of change. She felt the tip of his pecker slide into her cranny over the head.
"Swive me, goodfellow," Jessica yowled.
"Such a bonny moll," he said.
She pulled her legs apart.
Drew his pecker right into her quim with vulval suction.
She felt his ballocks pack smack into her rump at the apex of each thrust.
"A roll in a moll," she said. "You really have it all, general."
"Aye, my lady. And this rogering cock will give you something too."
He gave her a ball.
The rutting stroke stoked her quim.
The cock was caught within. Strutting rut.
Balls bouncing against her hiney. The pricktip popped out. All wet and shiny.
A snippet of scum slid from the top.
Jessica reached up and gave it a stroke.
The hole of the dong broke open.
A startling stream of come lashed out into the air. Twisted in an arc.
The cords of come struck Jessica in the face. Snaggles of sperm nicked her cheeks.
Jessica leered and took a shot of semen in her teeth. Sucked in.
Coughed down the come.
The next dollop of male cream came at her like a pouncing wildcat.
Scum snared her nostrils.
Smutch smeared her eyelids.
She blinked, and a curtain of jissom clouded her vision with sugary blindness.
Jessica snorted, and the come crackled up her nose. Dripped down her throat.
Tingled in her tummy.
She licked her lips.
Come so yummy.
The spermy taste of the prickjuice combined with the saliva running in her maw. The shimmering prick belched more spume. Con-verted within Jessica's yip to her own special brew of sputum.
Jessica chawed her jowls.
Chewed come like a cow chewing cud.
She pursed her lips.
She spat out short spurts of saliva and sperm in slow pulses.
The cream hit her lover in the face.
Spread over him like icing on a cake.
She lathered her face with it. Ladling liquid come with her tongue.
Jessica sucked it up.
Then down the hatch with another batch.
Jessica jogged around the corner of her lickerish thoughts. She was running saline with sweat and ladyjuice.
She returned to her Depressionera abode. The apartment building was virtually tenement style. Out of place in the historic charm.
Come to think of it, not all the buildings around there were so enchanting. The structure across the street, another apartment building, looked like the kind of place that could seem like home to a gang of Hell's Kitchen Mollies and Micks from the early gangster era.
Even that had its own erotic angles.
Tommy guns exposed from splits in trenchcoats. Jessica was a moll in showgirl's drag.
Her boobs rolled over the tops of a lowcut sequined flapper gown.
Gangsterish thumbs roved within.
The titmeat stretched out of shape.
Then reaffirming themselves when he released his grip.
Fists pummeled the tits.
Jessica drove her knee between the trenchcoat split.
The bootlegger would become bootlicker.
He dropped to the surface of the cobblestoned alley. Lapped at Jessica's slipper-like booties. Sucked her legs.
Jessica snarfed down a silver flask full of bathtub gin.
Then relaxed her loins.
Fresh silver gin jets pissed out over the licking gangster's face.
"You fucking whore!" Jessica tittered like a flapper girl. More piss poured from her vertical grin. He rubbed urine into his chin. Guzzled some more.
"Call me that again," Jessica demanded.
She swiped a spot of piss from her slit. Wiped his nose with it.
"You heard me before-you fucking whore!"
She slid her labia up and down his nose.
"I don't mean to demean you," Jessica said. "But you've done it before."
"You calling me a whore? Ginks ain't whores. Jades are. Lessin' you callin' me queerboy."
"Maybe I am." He gave her a body slam.
"We'll see who fucks who," he said. "You're gonna love everything I do. And this is an offer you can't refuse."
He kicked her legs apart.
Her quim gave a start.
Fell on her body with a slump. Brought up his pecker to her body. Fucked into her rump. His ass began to pump.
When her rear window was warmed up, he stuck dick into her cunt in front. Boffing her from the back. Hound-dog style.
The street-smart cock tore into her.
Fucked her crack behind her back.
Slimed into her as she held her haunch in the air. Rutting on all fours.
A bitch in heat.
Fucked by barking dogmeat.
Gangster fucked moll in a pile.
They fucked in style-right in that little alleyway down the block.
Down the block and around the curve. Inside Jessica's mind.
Her head spun in the anxiousness of her sexual fantasies as she had stood, scratching her cunt, inside the elevator to her floor.
Now she glanced about her studio at the unpacked boxes full of books and clothing, bed linen and kitchen utensils stacked forlornly along the wall by the windows.
Jessica sniffed under her arms.
Made a face with wrinkled nose and pursed lips. The musky fragrance of her sliming underarms sniped up into her nostrils.
"Never get a man smelling like a barnyard," Jessica snorted to herself.
"But then," she continued telling herself, "real men don't like such prissy things. They want a woman who works, who can take a hit."
Jessica would prove that point. She gave herself something she could appreciate.
A straight-fingered karate stab beneath the boobs to her solar plexus.
Her tits jiggled.
Her cunt flared up.
"I like it rough."
Or would if she could get it.
She threw a fuck-look toward herself in the mirror. Flexed her tits.
Hardbody she had.
Men she had not.
She slipped the bowknot at the waist of her sweatpants. Held the pants up just beneath her navel as she turned on her toes to walk toward the stacked boxes.
She rummaged for a set of bedsheets and a pillow. Unzipping a suitcase, she spied laid diagonally on top a a pile of frilly panties her favorite dildo.
Spear-headed, of stuffed slick leather, the artificial cock had two heads.
It had a coiled shaft fully a yard long.
It was lithe, malleable.
And plenty stiff enough at the ends.
Stiff enough for the fuck.
To fuck oneself with.
It was a sociable dildo. .
For one could thus share the action with a partner, something Jessica had not yet done. Or one could heft one head of the dark leather dong into one's cunt.
Suck the other leather cephalus tip and then tuck it up the ass.
Jessica gripped the leather lingam in the middle. Twirled it like a baton.
She then reached in front of her to turn up the thin louvers of the Venetian blinds left, like the light dimmers, by the previous tenants. Probably because the blinds were the wrong size for their new windows.
Jessica's jaw dropped.
Her mouth went dry.
Who was that guy?
A peeping torn? Oh, great.
She moves into a new area of town. After spending months searching for an affordable apartment. And now, on her first night there, she sees some dude, wanger out, standing in front of his window watching her.
Jessica began to close the blinds.
Stopped.
What was she doing? Watching him.
That wasn't his wanger, anyway, waving between his' legs.
It was a hammer.
And he wasn't watching her.
Now Jessica could see him tapping the hammer along the bottom and sides of the window frame.
What was he doing?
She heard his grunt-from across the narrow street-as he shot his window up.
Unsticking his window.
Now leering at Jessica's tits.
And at the dildo she hefted.
Another glance told her the walls of his apartment were bare.
Like hers.
Was he just moving in too? With a start, Jessica discovered she was playing one head of her dildo between her tits.
The other end had drifted beneath her belly and was tapping her engorged pussy through the damp material of her sweatpants.
"Shit, dude," Jessica said. "Show some interest, at least."
She left the blinds at a half-open slant. Walked to the wall and dimmed the light a bit more.
No sense in giving him a clear peek at her gooey curled goodies. Not the first time. If he bothered to look.
Jessica shot her sweatpants down and peeled them over her feet.
She snapped her moist panties down. Raised her legs and kicked them off over her toes.
In the mirror, Jessica saw her damp thatch.
Matted with sweat from her run.
Labia streaked with the initial outpourings of her aroused quim.
Over her shoulder, she saw the male figure before his window.
He pushed a small desk or table into position in front of the open window. Was he nude yet? Didn't look it.
Jessica squeezed the thick leather lingam between her tits.
Rubbed the other head over her clitoris.
Took the top head between her teeth. Licked leather dick.
She saw in the reflection that the man in the window across the way had set up a box on top of the table he had situated in front of the window. And now another box was being fitted on top.
Jessica drew her eyes away.
From the reflected male in the window.
From the mirror image of her aroused body.
She lay the dildo on top of the Japanese futon mattress she would later fold down into her bed. Walked into the bathroom.
Jessica stepped into the shower stall and turned the water on.
Full.
Hot.
The needle spray tingled her skin. Scalds of the steaming water shot between her asscheeks.
Nailed her nipples. Dappled her pussy. Snipped her clit.
Warmed her arsepucker to the softness of wet tissue paper. A peeping torn. Did that turn her on? It did and it didn't. On one hand, it made her recoil. On the other, it made her thighs moist.
She must be frustrated.
Because she was making the dude a voyeur in her head-when she hadn't even seen him look! She soaped herself. Stroked herself.
Ran her fingers between her slit. Jammed a thumb up her bum. Wafted her clit with cupping actions of her curved palm.
The lather of the scented soap smarted her cunt-lips. It sang inside her asshole.
She was giving herself a good reamjob. Cleaning herself out.
Making herself squeaky-clean and presentable.
For her lover.
Herself.
In body-heat blindness, Jessica darted from the shower. Without drying herself off, she lurched into the wide studio space.
She spied her leathern dildo, waiting for her on the pink-patterned covering of her futon couch.
Jessica was fagged out.
Dying to fuck herself.
She got straightaway to the point.
Without bothering to make her bed, she flopped onto the cover of the futon.
She kicked her heels into the air. Brought her heels up to her waist.
Stabbed the stuffed-leather cockhead into her face.
Jessica embraced herself.
Took herself the way she thought she would want it.
Hard.
Jammed the cock down her throat. Tortured her gullet.
Twisted the dead meat about her belly.
Snagged the stiff twanger into her quim.
Bent the other end about.
Lushed it with her mouth.
Coiled it about her underbelly. Carried the carapace to her pucker.
Buckled her body.
Drove it in right up her ass.
Jessica heaved her haunch.
Fucking herself from both ends at once.
She thumbed along the rim of her nipples. Stroked the aureoles.
White breastmeat.
Firm and taut.
But also soft and creamy.
To her touch.
The smutch oozed from her puss. Drooled down into her rumpmeat. She beat her clit. Flipped her hips.
With her eyes drawn into slits. Peering through the slant of the Venetian shade.
The dude lurched into view. Sat himself down in front of the window. Eyes glued to the glowing box-like contraption on the table before him.
She saw him play his fingers on a keyboard.
Jack around on a joystick.
Playing computer games?
Or-it was possible, for in her fantasy Jessica knew he could be anything she wanted-a musician composing a synthesizer score.
Or a writer, at work late at night.
Bringing his midnight oil to the boil.
Of course.
Jessica dug the dildo deeper into her flesh. Fresh freshets of cuntcome washed through her cabbage patch.
Moistened her thatch.
She strummed the dong on up further into her anus. Bit into it with her sphincter lips.
If he was a writer-which he was in her dreams tonight-what would he be writing about?
If he were a peeping torn-of course!
The legendary Peeping Tom, the tailor of Coventry who espied Lady Godiva as she rode her white steed naked through the marketplace.
If the unknown figure was her Tom the Peeper, Jessica was Lady Godiva herself.
She remembered how the stories ran.
In some, Tom was fuck-blinded for his infamy. In others, he became her lover.
The lowborn and the lady.
He must have been rude, that Tom.
Scroungy as a tomcat.
Randy as a ram.
Going after the lady's puss.
He would surely have stripped her and whipped her. Fucked her mouth, ass, and cunt-not necessarily in that order.
"Good day, my lady."
"Oh, yes. Don't I recognize you from the marketplace? You are none other than Tom the Tailor-Peeping Tom, you are."
"Oh, my. I believe you do know of me."
"Why do you now assail my presence?"
"Your beloved, kind, and most-trusting husband, Earl Leofric, the lord of Mercia, has commissioned my services."
"How so?"
"As you know, your lord must make a journey of three days to Canterbury to confer with the archbishop on a grave matter-it concerns the conduct of nuns of the Order of Mercy. It seems they have none. And have been scandalizing themselves by their escapades-no different from any other maids, if I might observe."
"A matter of the highest order," Jessica Godiva said. "Those young girls have turned to thievery-they have been making off with the jewels of our knights while they sleep."
"As I too have heard. Your lord wishes you, his lady, to wear something to remember him by-while he is detained in Canterbury."
"And what does my lord wish me to wear during his absence?-I cannof hazard a guess."
"Why, a cunnikin, of course."
"Ah-those are the new chastity belts now all the rage in Roma and London town."
"The same. If" I may so measure my lady for the closest fit. It will be over before you know it."
Jessica Godiva reached under her skirts. She pulled a string and raised her gown and petticoats like satin shades.
Her Mound of Venus drooped before Tom's eyes.
"We'll attempt to take the size."
"This isn't working," Jessica said. "This jerking is sheer torture."
Tom rewound the measuring twine. He floated his finger down between his thighs.
His leathern codpiece had grown out into a long curved horn.
"Really," he said. "This is by far the surest method, mum."
He unlaced his crotch.
The codpiece floated out and up.
Bag of ballocks waved down nearly to Peeping Tom's knees.
Balls swayed in the breeze.
His cock was stammering out in his fist.
Lady Jessica Godiva took the taper in her ringers. Jerked her wrist.
The prick jumped in with a twist. Cock hitched Jessica's cunt. She hustled her arse. Shook dick in to the root. Pussy pulled it in as she squared off with a pump of her rump. Then yanked dong out as she threw her pelvis back.
Tom twanged his banger inside her fillet. Rubbed his ballocks along her legs.
He twisted as the lady squirmed. Worming his wanger inside her.
A chunk of come blew from his sac. The cackling jissom streamed into the once-chaste lady, hitherto forever in waiting.
Godiva's had been a marriage forced by convenience. Of benefit to her family's estate.
She had hardly had the taste of Earl Leofric's stinger in her honeycomb.
Indeed, when he had cajoled Godiva to make her naked ride, it was the only time during their marriage the lady had gotten off. When she had spied Tom's peeping eyes at her nudity. Her cunt had brimmed then. Though her wifely fealty to her husband told her not even to think at all. Now she was having a ball. As Tom the Peeper took a look inside her thighs with his one-eyed spyglass.
The semen frothed up in the lady's hair.
The snare of snatch soaked up wad after wad of come as it spat in.
And received his blessing of comedrops as it shot the last round into her navel as he had Shaken his cock out.
Tom twisted her quim open.
He gripped her slick lips between his thumbs and forefingers. Stretched her sexlips apart.
He curled his digits into a fist.
Battered her burbling quim.
"Oh, yes. I say."
"Oh, you like it this way. We must be sure with our measurements."
The walls of her labia were lanced by the fingernails of his forceful fist.
Her legs were forced apart as he slammed into her asshole too.
Two fists fucking her cuntlet and bum.
Tom's warped body digging at her face with its curving dong.
The wave of orgasm carried Jessica along.
She opened her peepers.
Glanced up through the shades.
He still wasn't looking.
What a face she made.
Jessica rose and walked loose-limbed to the kitchenette. She placed the hot-crossed buns she had bought for her dinner into the oven.
She drank down a mouthful of vitamins with some warm milk.
Then pulled her buns from the oven.
Warm buns.
Two of them together.
Like two buns of a fine arse.
She brought the soft warm things to her nose. Sniffed their yeasty goodness.
She sucked a piece of bun into her yip. The bun dissolved on her tongue.
The sugar-icing crosses melted into her lips.
As Jessica sucked and nibbled and chewed.
Warm yeasty buns.
With sugary asshole between.
Her tastebuds were dazzled as she came upon a small raisin. A currant-like a tiny clit or scrotum in her teeth. Candied slivers of citrus rind. Recalling the tang of rutsweat in her mind.
She felt the teeth at her own tush.
Tonguing her there.
Licking her liquid sugar snatch. Chewing her raisin and candied peels.