Chapter 8
Mike Barton hung on the screen of her back door with a slack grin at the corner of his young mouth.
"Getting any lately, Laura?"
She stood resolutely in front of the door, blocking any forced entry he might try to make.
"I told you," she snapped, impatiently. "You're not to come back here again. You're not to bother me with-"
"I saw what you dragged in the other night. Who was the guy? He looked rough and mean to me, like something you pulled out of the goddamn gutter. You sure must have been horny to let a character like that fuck you."
"If you don't mind, I'm very busy."
"Look, I know you're sore at me. If you want me to take back all that shit about your sister being prettier than you, I will. What the hell, she gave me and my pals a good time one afternoon last summer. But that doesn't mean that I like her any more than you."
"Or any homely piece."
"Wrong again. In fact, I've been thinking about you all week, Laura. I want it again, and I'll bet you do, too. Be honest with me: Was that punk the other night any better than me?"
"Much."
"Bigger?"
"A lot."
The young stud in front of her blushed with a mixture of anger and pride. "Did he make you come? I mean, could he make you get off one of those deep ones, the way I-"
"He's got you bested in every category in the book, little boy. And I did things to him that you haven't even dreamed about."
"You sucked him off, you mean. Hell, I don't have to ask-I know."
"You don't know anything."
"Wanta bet? Who do you think was standing outside your bedroom window, peeking in? You oughta pull your shades down about an inch more, honey, if you don't want an audience. You sucked his prick like a pig. I want you to do that to me."
"No."
"Mom won't be home for a couple of hours this afternoon. I can come over here and let you eat it good. C'mon, baby-my cock will just fit that hot mouth of yours, and you know it."
Her fingers tightened around the knob of the door. "I've got a better idea," she breathed, bitchily.
"What's that?"
"Tell your mother to stay home those two hours, and get her to suck it. I'm sure she'd love to!" And with that, she slammed the door hard in his face. She heard his muffled, threatening curse as he growled and tramped away, and she smiled upward at the ceiling.
She'd teach him to brag about how much better Beverly was than she!
Besides, she didn't need him. She had a date for the afternoon with Jack, her slum-street pal, and he had promised to fuck her again. This time for free.
Her grin widened. She knew why he had promised that. It was because he liked to have his big dong sucked-and he was playing both ends against the middle to get what he wanted.
She waited until the morning mail came, to see if there would be another letter from Bev. But there was nothing-and the emptiness of her mailbox seemed to be a small mockery from the mysterious world beyond, where Bev was sailing on a yacht of C. Phillip Conner. She knew now, of course, that the disappearance of Bev was nothing but a hoax, some kind of elaborate publicity stunt hatched from the brain of her Claude, or somebody in his hire. Probably they had two ways of thinking about it: one was that her name would easily be splashed in the headlines of the California papers once she did return-and the other was that during her absence she could indulge both their whims in orgies of lust and lovemaking.
The letters spoke for themselves on the latter subject.
As she drove once more to the Western edge of the city, Laura took a long, cold look at what she was becoming. She remembered the husked and grinning question that Jack had posed to her following her brazen act of fellatio: Where'd you learn to eat a man so good?
And she remembered her answer.
It was as if, after all the years of hypocrisy and lies, she had at last communicated honestly with Bev. With their pious mother cold and dead in the ground, it was an act of courage and liberation for both of them. They were two of a kind, only with Bev the process of self-discovery had occurred a long time ago. Laura sensed that she might be moving too fast in her sister's footsteps, but it was the kind of exciting danger that one feels when caught in a whirlpool.
Not that she had any desire at that moment to stop the persecuting itch of her cunt. She had Jack to do that. Just the thought that in a few minutes she would feel his stiffness being plunged between her throbbing thighs was enough to make her pussy begin to drip with passion, with greed: When she rounded the corner and headed up the street of filthy bars and cheap hotels, her heart was beating like a drum. She didn't know what she would do if he had broken his word to her!
But she saw him almost at once, leaning over the same parking meter, wearing the same soiled pants, the same shirt rolled up over his forearms, his legs crossed in the casual pose of a corrupt satyr.
Today he had promised her a treat. He would take her to his room in one of the hotels. Fortunately, he lived in a neighborhood which put a minimum value on conventional morality. As long as he paid two dollars a day for the room, he had told her, he could do as he pleased.
And it pleased her to be fucked by him on his own bed. Besides, she wanted to see where he lived, and how he lived. She associated his loveless sensuality with cheapness and dirt, and she prayed that she would not be disappointed.
She parked on the opposite side of the street from him, locked her car, and sauntered in his direction. She was wearing dark glasses and a modest dress. As she approached, he stuck a crumpled cigarette into the corner of his mouth and grinned at her.
"Follow me," he drawled, softly.
She walked a few paces behind him. They passed several open bars, and she caught the fetid stench of beer- and man. She found herself wondering recklessly how many males there were like him sitting in such dens-males ready to service the bored and screaming cunts of oldish nymphets like herself.
He paused at a shabby doorway and waited for her to catch up. Then, without a word to her, he guided the way up the steep, unpainted steps into the gloom of the old building. She could smell garbage, staleness, and the fetid stink of broken toilets.
"I live at the back," he said, nodding his head in the direction to the left. "Real ritzy."
"Just so it has a bed."
He winked at her and pulled his cigarette from the corner of his lips with a nicotine-stained thumb and forefinger. She followed him down the creaky hallway as he fished in his pockets for the skeleton key.
His room was the last door at the end of the hall, well away from the other doors-and that suited her just fine.
The room was even more than she had hoped for. A battered iron bedstead with a lumpy, dirty mattress, a single chair and small desk, a dark, smelly John shut off by a shattered door. Somebody-perhaps the lonely, horny male tenants from the unhappy past-had pasted calendar pictures of naked women on one of the walls above the bed. They were faded and peeling now, but she could still see the dark splotches of dried sperm where those frustrated males had hurled it after jacking-off. She wondered how much of that wasted nectar was Jack's.
He locked the door behind them, and tossed the skeleton key back into his pocket. He stood with his arms at his sides, watching her as she walked around the room. He was still standing motionless as she sat down on the edge of the bed.
When she, too, was motionless as a butterfly, he walked over to her and fumbled with the buttons at his crotch. He pulled out the large, soft weapon of his sex and wagged it teasingly, obscenely in front of her. It looked like a very big, white banana.
"Suck on it," he breathed. "I need a good blow job."
It was all the invitation she needed.
She leaned forward to the big sleeping snake of flesh which lay across his open palm. The apricot-shaped meatus was tempting, so she moved her nostrils lightly up and down the form of it, sniffing at the rutty, sexual odor of her male.
Such wanton behavior stimulated him immediately, and his prick began to gorge, to move. She continued sniffing it, then as the head of his cock filled with blood and began to blush pink, she ran the tip of her tongue out and licked at it lightly. She tasted the dry, hot sponginess of him, and licked a bit harder. She tickled the eyelet of his prick with just the edge of her tongue, teasing and kissing the underside of his meatus until his prick stiffened upward into a big rod of lust.
"Jesus, you're good at that!" he husked. "Smellin' it like you just did makes my old nuts just boil for a good cocksucking."
She moved her face back a few inches and drank in the erotic sight of his fully erected prick growing stiffly out of the slit of his fly. She loved the size of it, the thickened veins standing out along the sides of the column, the twisted bush of hair that showed at the base and grew in prickly sparseness several inches out toward the middle.
"Don't stop now, baby-suck that big honey-stick."
She ovaled her mouth and sank his hard-on deep into her throat. She began a slow, powerful suctioning movement with her head and shoulders, making his aroused cock throb with pleasure.
Then, abruptly, he pulled the horsy plaything from between her reluctant lips.
"Second, baby-I gotta have me a drink. Nothin' more fun than to sip a little whiskey while somebody tongues around on your dick."
She waited while he tramped over to the bureau and pulled open a drawer. He brought out a fifth of whiskey and unscrewed the top. He drank deeply, gasped, then came back toward her with the bottle in his hand. His prick-as stiff and lusty as ever-still rode lewdly out of his fly. He pushed his cock back into her face. "Now, suck the holy shit outa that thing!" As she had known it would, his bestial behavior only drove her passion to a vibrant, fever pitch. She began to suck him with even more vigor than before. The slurp and smack of her lips filled the room with lascivious music.
"Ever tell you bout the time I was in the Corps," he said, grinning down at her moving head, concentrating proudly on the phallic strength of what he had riding out from between his legs into her hungry mouth. "You wouldn't believe in a billion years the tales I could tell about my sex life in the old Marine Corps. But they's one tale that beats'em all, hands down. Wanta hear it while you suck?"
He chuckled softly to himself and lifted the bottle once more to his lips. She wouldn't answer him-or couldn't-and so he took silence for consent. She was half-listening to him, anyway. She was too lost in communicating with her tongue to the evil stiffness of his prick, but as he talked, his cock seemed to grow stiffer and hotter, and she was thankful for that.
"Happened to me and four of my buddies when we was in boot camp out in L.A. You wouldn't know how it is to be in the marines, but let me tell you it ain't no picnic. They kept us shut up like cattle . . . goin' through boot camp. No Cokes, no movies, no PX, no ass, no nuthin'. The bastards. And you take a guy like me who was used to knocking off a piece of cute tail every other night, come hell or high water, and you take a stud like that off some steady pussy and you got one helluva unhappy human being. I wasn't the only guy who was hurtin', about the fourth or fifth week. We were all horny as a barn full of stud stallions. We'd have fucked anything with tits that walked. And that just about brings me to the good part.
"We had this DI, see-that's short for Drill Instructor-a real rough sonofabitch who'd done hitches in Korea and Vietnam. He was a man every inch of the way-and that included being a hell-fucker with women. He always said that what he couldn't shoot to death, he could damn sure fuck to death. And I'd seen the bastard buck-naked in the shower stalls, and let me tell you, babydoll, he had a piece of meat on him that would have gagged an elephant in heat. You think you're suckin' on a nice jumbo prod right now, you should have tried to get your hot mouth around his peter. It woulda split your grin right up to your ears, then some.
"Anyway, one night the DI comes into the barracks drunk, or half-drunk. He shakes me and four of my buddies real quiet-like and tells us to meet him in the latrine in five minutes flat in our fatigues. Hell, we didn't ask questions. You learn not to in the Corps. So in something like two minutes we're huddled in the latrine, wondering what the shit we'd done now.
"Then the DI comes in and tells us we're to load up on a half-ton he's got parked right outside. He says he'll explain what it's all about as soon as he's able.
"We don't argue. We climb on board and before you can let a fart, the truck is pullin' out the front gate of the goddamned camp!
"We still didn't know shit until the DI opened the flap between us and the driver's seat and gave us the lowdown. He said that he had picked the five of us because we looked like we knew cunt from cornbread-and because he'd be damned if he hadn't noticed that we were a little special in the cock department. He went on with some corny bullcrap about how a good marine is a hung marine, and how a hung marine is a marine who'll take his pussy where he finds it, and maybe fuck-on-the-run if he has to. He went on and on like this until one of the guys had the guts to ask him what the hell this deal was all about. It was then that he told us we'd been picked for a special mission: he had a broad stashed back in a motel-a good-looking dame, he promised-and she had expressed a kind of unconventional desire to him. No shit, them were the words he used! I guess he was trying to make the payoff sound as respectable as he could. Anyway, he said this dame wanted to be fucked by four or five horny young marines who were still in boot camp. It was a cinch, she had figured, that five males like us wouldn't have touched pussy in all the weeks we'd been captive, and she further figured that to be the object of such unbridled lust-I swear to god that the DI said it exactly like that-would just be about the biggest kick of her whole long fuck-life.
"We didn't ask what was in it for the DI. We didn't give a shit. I can tell you, baby, by the time that truck pulled up in front of this crummy motel, there wasn't a soft prick in sight. We were really hot to make a landing on some prime pussy, and fuck it ten ways from Sunday!
"Maybe I should leave the gory details up to your imagination. But I won't-not the way you're sucking that cock of mine right now. It feels too damned good for either of us to stop, don't it? Well, the truth turned out to be even better than what we were dreamin' about back in the truck.
"The DI had not only picked himself up a nympho who was determined to get fucked by a pack of horny leathernecks, he had picked himself up a beautyful nympho. I'd never seen a woman better stacked in my life-and I ain't since. She had tits on her that would have drove a preacher straight to a rubber machine. Christ, she was sexy. Legs and cunt and skin-Everything a guy could imagine in a sex match. And here we were-five tough boot-camp studs with our heads shaved, our bodies tanned and lean and muscled, and our billyclub pricks sticking out between our legs hard enough to fuck through armor plate.
"We lined up and screwed her for a good two hours. I took her on four times, myself, fucking her better and harder and longer each time. Then we got down to the variations. There wasn't nothin' that gorgeous bitch wouldn't do. Talk about a cocksuckin' talent! She damned near ate our balls off! And once the ice was broke, we started takin' turns sucking her hot pussy for her and playing with her big titties.
"I don't have to tell you that the whole damned thing went by like some speeded-up dream. When everybody was good and fucked-out, the DI herded us back on the truck and returned us to the camp. He told us that if any one of us ever breathed a word about it, he'd get kicked out of the Corps. And then he'd come looking for us, one by one.
"We knew what the hell he meant.
"It was just one of those crazy things that happen to few guys in a lifetime-and we weren't about to knock it.
"That cunt in the motel-the one we fucked and sucked and tit-teased-was nobody in the world but one Gloria Gentel, the big movie star. We figured it out later, and coulda kicked ourselves in the balls for not knowing it while we were doin' it! Know what I mean!?"
"You ever been in a gang-bang like that?" he was asking huskily, above her.
She didn't even know the meaning of the word.
"I mean-you ever let three or four guys get at you at the same time. It sure as hell was fun for that movie star, and I reckon it must be a real fuckin' kick for any woman that likes to have her pussy paid a lot of attention to. We had that Hollywood bitch hot all over. One time there, I remember, she had one of us screwin' her cunt, one screwin' up her asshole, and one just plain hot-fuckin' her mouth. That was three of us, and the other two guys were suckin' on her tits, feeling her legs and rump and generally just teasin' every part of her body they could. I know one thing: she loved it. When that slut started coming, I thought she was gonna split in two with joy. She creamed-off for about five minutes there, juice pouring down her legs like somebody had turned over a bowl of soup . . ."
Again, his voice was only a meaningless drone to her. Once she looked upward through the bush of his pubic hair and saw him swigging at the liquor bottle. She was glad he was drinking; it seemed to make his prick stiffer, and kept it stiffer.
Her little picnic of lewdness was short-lived, however. After a few more seconds of cocksucking, he once again pulled his blunt, erect prick from between her lips and pushed her backward on the bed.
"Crawl out of your clothes, doll," he husked. "I want you naked when you drain my nuts. Naked and drunk."
He pushed the bottle down at her. "I told you," she breathed, helplessly, "I don't drink."
His face seemed like a grinning mask of evil. "Yeah-and my guess is that before a week ago, you didn't fuck or suck. Now you do both like a trooper. C'mon, sweetheart, nobody likes to drink alone. You get a little of that whiskey in your blood and you'll wanta fuck like a goddamn monkey. I promise you, a little booze will make your pussy itch good-and think how nice it's gonna be when my big prod starts satisfying that itch. But I don't aim to do it if you don't have a drink with me."
She took the bottle and held it up to her lips. The strong odor of the liquor stung her nostrils.
Shutting her eyes, she took a long, throat-scorching drink. Her eyes burned. She panted, belched, gasped.
He took the bottle back from her and moved his swinish, hard prick back up to her mouth.
"Suck a little more, then drink a little more," he grinned, "and me and you is gonna git along just mighty fine . . ."