Chapter 1

"Would you like to come in for a drink?" Lydia asked, pausing at the door. She tilted her lovely heart-shaped face to one side and smiled, just enough to show a glimmer of perfect white teeth.

Keith nodded. He put his hand on the small of her back and she wondered how long it would take him to grab a feel of her ass. "That sounds very inviting," he said. "Nearly as inviting as you look, Lydia."

There! His hand was sliding downward. Lydia braced herself. Mmmm, she thought, this one's a gentleman. He's content just to touch it—none of the pawing and grasping for Keith Waters. Isn't that sweet! She turned the key in the lock and led him into her apartment.

"This is very nice," he said, looking around. "You have a very tasteful sense of decoration."

"Thank you," Lydia replied. "Why don't you do the honors—men seem to be so much better at making drinks, don't you agree darling? I'll put on some music, and then I promise I won't be gone a minute." She slipped a cassette tape into the player-soft, romantic orchestral music, with lush weepy strings and horns—and then said, "Make mine a Dubonnet on the rocks, please," before disappearing into her bedroom.

She took off her shoes and let her toes sink into the plush material that carpeted her bedroom floor. It felt very nice, especially after an evening of disco dancing, to be standing on her own feet instead of the elevated platform shoes.

The bedroom was small, dominated by a large brass bed Lydia had found at a remarkably low price in a thrift shop. She walked past the bed, opened the small walk-in closet, and began to remove her clothes, hanging up shirt, jacket, and slacks as she took them off. Wearing only her bra and panties, she went back, pausing a moment to look at herself in the large mirror on the inside of the door. The blue underthings went marvelously with her pale creamy skin, she decided for the hundredth time, and she turned about full-frontally, throwing back her long hair as she eyed herself.

Beautiful, she thought, and totally seductive. What would Keith think if she strolled out now, clad in these wispy undies, the bra which struggled to contain the milky tits threatening to spill out and free, the bikini pants low-riding, of such translucent nylon that her dark bush was clearly visible through the material! Lydia smiled, and her hands came up to cover the splendid thrust of her breasts.

She petted them a moment, squeezed their rich curves, and felt nipples erecting against the blue nylon binding. Her reddish areolae were visible too, plain and obvious in the mist of blue that seemed pathetically inadequate to contain them. Lydia tested her nipples with long slender fingers, sighing softly as little throbs of excitement shot through her body from that delicious point of contact. She stroked herself downward, the long waist, the flaring, totally feminine hips, and onto the upper reaches of her lissome thighs, then turned and regarded herself first in profile then, over the shoulder, from the rear. Even the cleavage of her ass was on display in the wispy panties, and the upper cleft of the crack showed above the waistband. Lydia brushed the back of her hand across her bottom and she smiled.

Now for the coup de grace, she thought, opening her dresser and extracting a long white silk negligee, that covered her from shoulders to ankles but, in reality, covered nothing at all. She slipped into it, did another turn before the mirror. Through the silky white, her peach-ripe skin and blue underwear showed vividly, and the effect was so much more perfect than if she were nude beneath the wrapper. Tantalization, she reminded herself. The name of the game is tantalization. And she was ready to start playing. In earnest.

"Did I keep you waiting?" she asked, emerging from the bedroom in a swirl of white silk. Keith was sitting on the sofa, a Scotch-and-water in one hand, but he was damned quick to put down the drink when he saw her. Lydia glided toward him and he stood up, hands extended. Laughing like silk a-rustle, she moved past and felt only the tentative brush of his fingers across one flank and thigh. Lydia deposited herself on the sofa and looked up at him, her eyes full of smoldering challenge. Keith settled beside her, crossing his legs as he turned to face Lydia, and he passed her the glass of Dubonnet and ice. She took it, sipping thoughtfully, her eyes regarding him across the tilted glass.

"This is excellent," she said, emphasizing the lisping sibilance in her voice. Men had always found that attractive, for some reason that eluded her. Still... He clinked his glass against hers and Lydia smiled. "To you," he said. "Blue is a very becoming color for you."

She pretended to blush. "You're very naughty to notice," Lydia countered. Keith put down his glass and leaned toward her. She knew he was going to kiss her, but first he took the glass of Dubonnet and placed it on the coffee table.

"Mmmmmmm ..." Lydia purred as his mouth ground against hers, as his hand came up to clutch a tit. She sucked in her stomach, and her tits lifted, blossomed, filling that grasping hand, persuading Keith to lift his other hand and grab her other breast as well. And he had beautiful handfuls, she wasn't too modest to admit. Her tits were full without being fat, firm without being rock-hard, and invitingly warm, and his hands cupped and caressed the delicate treasures as he eased her back on the sofa.

Lydia moved a leg and her robe opened in front. A long bare thigh was visible through the opening, bare all the way to the lacy trim of her blue panties. She was watching Keith with half-opened eyes and she saw him take in the sight of her leg, saw his eyes sparkle. His hand left her right breast and dropped into her lap. He began to stroke and pet her leg, so carefully, so precisely, that tingles rippled through Lydia's flesh, made her slide a little closer to Keith so he might do more of those sweet things to her thigh.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered into her open mouth, his purred utterances humming on her moist lips. "So beautiful, so sexy ..." Even as he spoke, his fingers were climbing her leg, and in a moment-no, now!!!—he was touching the crotch of her blue panties.

They were tight panties, and skimpy panties, and the crotch-strip was stretched like skin across Lydia's plump, thrusting mons. She heard-she felt-her pubic hair crackle as Keith stroked her there, and his fingers found and fondled the well-defined lips of her slice. Lydia gasped, and her groin arched to meet his insistent caress. "Oh," she said. "Ohhhhh ..."

The entire front of her gown had fallen open by now, and her breasts too were arched toward Keith. He looked down at the ripe tits straining in their wispy blue prison, and she saw drool forming in the corners of his mouth. Her nipples were stiff and noticeable, punching out the filmy nylon cups of the bra. Keith looked at them another moment, and then his face descended, and he began and lick her tits through the nylon, wetting it with his saliva, strumming her erected paps with his frisky tongue.

"Ahlihhh," she sighed as he licked circles round the stiff nips, then covered the ends of her tits with his mouth for some furious sucking and biting. Lydia reached up, her fingers twining through his long sandy hair, making new curls in Keith's mop. With her other hand she caressed her own hair, long, dark, wavy-thick, and she inhaled the musky scent of her tresses until her head swam with the sweetness of it.

"Naughty," she whispered then, for his hand was inside her panties and he was cupping and flexing the puffy mound of her pussy. His fingers were tangled in her pubic hair and one of them lay directly upon the line of her gash, slipping into the tight moist mouth rhythmically. Lydia bucked upward, filling his hand with her twat, and she felt her heart increase its beating to a rapid tempo that thrilled and frightened her. Her legs clenched around his fondling hand and she squeezed him with sure, precise pulsations. In his mouth, her nipple was grown even stiffer, hotter, and she longed for him to strip the brassiere and anoint her bare flesh with his spittle.

"Let's go to bed," he suggested. "Let's go to bed and fuck."

Lydia chilled a little. Men usually said "Let's go to bed and make love"-a concession to what the regarded as woman's basic squeamishness about the facts of life and the four-letter words that described them. Still, she smiled, showing a trace of teeth between her daintily parted lips-no doubt he was already imagining those red lips clenched around his penis—and she nodded. "Why don't we?"

He picked her up in his arms and carried her across the room, through the bedroom door. Goodness, she thought, he's a strong one! But she could handle that. As easily as her dangling fingers handled the growing stalk of hard-on in Keith's pants. He was like a rock by the time he deposited her gently upon the bed, and the front of his trousers thrust out with the weight of his eager erection.

She lay there, her silk gown fallen open, her almost nude body on display, and she looked up at him with heavy-lidded, sultry eyes. "Undress me," she said, the hint of a gasp in her voice. "Strip me.

His hands shook as he eased the robe from her shoulders. Lydia shrugged. "Just toss it out of the way." He did, and then he put his hands on her bra cups. She sighed, allowing him to feel the tremors of her breasts, and then she leaned forward so he could reach behind and undo the bra's clasp. It loosened, and she shook her shoulders so that the cups fell away from her tits, and then she straightened up. Keith removed the bra and for a moment he did no more than stare at her perfect breasts and their small, red-tinted nipples, the tips beautifully erect.

He dropped to his knees beside the bed, hooked his thumbs in the waistband of her panties, and pulled them slowly down her quivering thighs. Lydia watched him carefully, but his eyes were trained upon the core of her cunt, waiting for the hair and then the slice to spring into his view.

She had a beautiful pussy. Men had told her that so many times. It was plump, and deeply cleft, the slice neat and clean, with no protrusion of inner lips, and the curling swirl of dark hairs around the gash veiled it demurely, like the mantilla of a Spanish virgin. Inside, she was slick and moist and coral-fleshed, with a sucking maw and a red clitoris that swelled majestically when aroused.

As she was aroused now. Lydia moved back on the bed, her snatch retreating from his lecherous eyes, and he moved with her, unwilling to surrender his full-frontal shot of that pretty cunt. She reared up, supporting herself on her elbows, and she smiled at him. "Now undress yourself," she commanded.

He stood up, and it was clear that he was anxious to feast himself on her body. Keith undressed in a hurry, ripping a button from his expensive shirt, but he didn't curse, didn't even kneel and search for the lost button. He threw the shirt away with vigor, and she smiled at the sight of his broad shoulders and hairy chest. The hair thinned out down his belly, but God, it sprung back with a vengeance when he dropped his pants! His loins were thick with fleece, and he reminded her of a black sheep with a hard-on when he pulled down his shorts and his pecker sprang loose.

A big pecker, too. Seven or eight inches long, massive in its thickness, and presently in raging erection. Lydia stared at it, trying to imagine that enormous cock rammed up her cunt, thrusting, penetrating, stabbing—fucking her. A chill rippled down her spine and she felt her anus puckering in defense.

"My," she said, "you're well hung, aren't you?"

His answer was to leap onto the bed with her. Lydia fell into his embrace, and his hands roamed over her body as his lips covered her mouth. Again and again that fierce pecker bumped her leg, tapped her in the stomach, and she felt herself instinctively pulling away from it, retreating, evading. No! she told herself. No!!

Keith worked a thigh between her legs and he moved his hairy flesh insistently on the pouting crease of her pussy. Lydia squirmed, but she let him have his way. Indeed, she even reached down with one hand and wrapped long, sensual fingers around that bumping cock of his and she caressed it in dreamy, lazy strokes, her fist closing around it, working up and down to a slow dancing beat. She fondled him from tip to balls, the heel of her fist grinding down upon his stones, and she felt him shiver in response. Slow down! Lydia warned herself. After all, we didn't want the dear boy to have an accident, did we?

"Oh, Keith, darling," she purred as soon as he'd broken off the kiss for air, "oh, Keith, darling, I want you to eat my pussy. Lick me with your sweet, sweet tongue. Suck my clitoris. Kiss me, suck me, make me scream and sigh and-" her voice fell away, as if passion were tumultuous in her bosom. The uttered wish gave Lydia an opportunity to emphasize the sibilance in her voice, and she used it to full advantage. His face got red and his eyes slitted with arousal.

"Yes," he said happily, "yes, I want to do that very much. I want to eat your pretty pussy." And with that he began to lick and kiss his way down her body, renewing his attentions to her pointing, stiff-nippled breasts and to everything between them and her moist-mouthed twat. Even before he'd brought his mouth into play on her snatch, while his tongue was eagerly rimming her navel, darting in and out like a miniature pecker invading a miniature cooze, he was fingering Lydia's gash, one of his digits spreading the tight lips and penetrating ever so slightly inside them.

"Aaaaahhhh," she moaned as the tip of his little finger nudged her clit. She felt her button erect and engorge, just as Keith's pecker had filled and stiffened, and it was a delicious, sensual feeling. "Eat me out," she panted, pushing the side of his head, urging him toward her twat.

"OHHHHH!!!!" she cried, in unfeigned approval, when he spread her labia with his fingers and visited her twat with the tip of his playful tongue. Up and down the gulley of her cunt he licked, and drool spilled from his tongue, only to be worked into the fabric of her flesh as he kept licking and licking and licking. Lydia felt her clit enlarging, even before his tongue nuzzled it, bat it back and forth, and even before his mouth closed upon the fat, sensitive stub of flesh for some suckling that was out of this fucking world!

He blew across the surface of her bared vulva, and she squirmed, arching her twat up against his face so he could do it again. "Oh, do it again," she moaned then, reaching down to catch Keith by the ears. "Do it agaaaaainnnnnn!"

He did it again, and this time his tongue followed up with a pass that took it into the mouth of her vagina, through the twitching mass of muscles that formed Lydia's open hole, and beyond them, into the well of her sex. She snapped at him with her twat, and she loved what he was doing to her, almost as much as she loved what she was doing to him. Her cunt dripped moisture, moisture suctioned from the depths of her body, and she could smell her own hot arousal, musky and tangy in the small bedroom. God, what a sensation! Was this how a bitch in heat felt? She hoped so. She was a bitch in heat, a bold, beautiful bitch, heated with the passion, the desire .. .

He grasped her clit then, pulling it between his clenched lips, and she almost came all over his face. It was hard to resist the impulse, but he ate cooze so prettily she wanted to hold it off, to find out how good he might be. After all, she'd never get another chance. Richard wasn't very skillful at licking snatch. Neither was Jake. God, how long had it been since she'd met a man who knew how to use his mouth the way Keith did? Not since business school, at least. What was his name? Tom? Doug? The very act of trying to remember kept her from coming prematurely, and if for no other reason, it was worth the while.

"Harder," she gasped, "suck me harder! Oh, Jesus . .. my clit... your mouth! God! Don't bite! I mean ... don't bite so hard! Oh, yes, Christ, God, shit, do it, do it, do it... "

The need to come was growing stronger and stronger. Lydia clutched at the bedsheets, pawing, tearing, her knuckles white from the strength she exerted. Keith's prick was out of reach now, thank God, else she might do something very foolish. Instead of his hard phallus, she fisted up big handfuls of bedspread, and she squeezed them, dug in her fingernails, felt them heat in her clutching palms.

While he continued to feast on her pussy, her labia were swollen now, swollen and tingling, awash with the moisture flooding from her quim. Each time his fingers pushed at the flanges of her cunt, Lydia's heart throbbed harder, and she knew that a creamy climax wasn't far away.

It hit her when his tongue was deep in her cunt and the tips of his thumbs prodding, prodding, prodding alongside her quivering clit. Suddenly he stabbed furiously with his tongue, and his thumbs rammed together, and it felt as if her clit were being pierced in two, ripped apart, and she screamed, "Alihhh, Goddddd, I'm commm-iiiinnnngggggg!!!" and her pussy unloaded its wet, sticky load of girl juice into Keith's hungry sucking mouth. Lydia rammed her twat up, slamming his face with her sex, and she coated his face with the discharges of her raging orgasm.

Through it all, Keith ate like a gentleman, dipping into her slot to tongue up helping after helping of tasty pussy goo, and his thumbs massaged the erupting bud of Lydia's clitoris until the tender trigger had no choice but to pull back into its little hood of flesh, where his rough fingers could no longer tempt and tease it. She felt her orgasm begin to fade, and the agitated humping of her crotch subsided. Lydia's ass came to rest firmly on the bed. Panting with the aftermath of her release, she looked down at Keith. "That was very good," she told him. "You have a way about you, all right."

He rose onto his knees and moved toward her, hard cock hobbling. "Now it's your turn," he grinned, taking her by the hair. He lifted Lydia's head, brought it nearer the tip of his cock, and with his other hand he steered his dong toward her lips, ready to stuff it in, ready for the sucking he'd probably been anticipating all night. ..

Lydia squirmed, her head rocking, and then she broke free of his handhold. "Stop it!" she blurted. "What are you trying to do?" she demanded furiously.

Keith took hold of her once more, trying to bring her head into play for his penis. "I'm trying to get my cock into your mouth," he said. "So you can eat me for a while, the way I just ate you."

"Drop dead."

He let go, and Lydia rolled away, pulling herself up into a huddle across the bed from him, where he knelt with his pathetic cock sticking out. "What the-"

"If you think I'm going to suck your trashy dick," she went on, "you've got another think coming. And-" she warned him off with a shake of her fist, "if you think I'm going to let you put that ugly big thing in me, you've got still another think-"

"So," he said. "It's true. What they said about you."

Lydia's eyes brightened. "What do they say about me?"

"That you're a cockteaser .. . that you come on all honey and cunny, then kick a man in the nuts."

Mmm, she thought. Kicking a man in the nuts. What a lovely idea! She closed her eyes and imagined it. Her foot slamming into the defenseless gap between a man's thighs, making contact with his dangling sac of nookie-balls, with his poor little limp cock. Sometime, soon, she thought, very soon ...

"If that's what they said," she purred, "why did you ask me to go out with you?"

He flushed. Angrily. His cock was still hard as a rock, sticking out from his loins in what had to be a bitter reproach.

Lydia enjoyed that very much. "Because I thought it was all a hype. A woman who looks as good as you do, who comes on as sexily as you do I thought-"

"You thought more than you a right to think," she said frostily. "As for now . .. I'm tired of this stupid game. Why don't you put your clothes on and go home."

"What about this?" he asked, tapping the end of his hard-on.

Lydia grinned. Evilly. "Why don't you stand on your head and stick it up your ass?"

He colored, very red, and she saw him clench a fist. Keith didn't look like the type who'd hit a woman, but you never knew. "If you touch me," she said, "I'll scream bloody murder. And the walls in this building are thin as paper. The neighbors are probably listening already, so why don't you—"

She didn't have to tell him a second time. Angrily, he bounced off the bed and began to get into his clothes. His cock hadn't gone down yet, and she could guarantee him a miserable night, unless he resorted to the adolescent practice of jerking himself off. Oh, yes! She could see him now, blushing even in the darkness of his bedroom as he fisted his pecker and stroked until it spurted cum all over his sheets. Bet he hadn't counted on that kind of Friday night!

"Go on," she said. "I'd like to get some sleep. I have a hairdresser's appointment at eleven tomorrow." Lydia settled back on the bed, legs still drawn up to protect her pussy.

He was like all the rest of them—a weak, whipped puppy too cowardly even to protest. She turned her back and didn't even look when he went out the bedroom door. Good riddance to him, she thought. And another notch for the handle of my sex-gun. Another notch.

How many more would there be? Oh, she prayed, a great many more. A great many!