Chapter 10

For the next two days, there was no opportunity for Lori and her cousin to get together again, to roll naked together, and to share the warm flesh of their young bodies. Her Aunt Lena and Uncle Martin were constantly hovering over her, wanting to take her here and there, wanting to show her the sights that everyone is supposed to see their first trip to New York City. They ate in the best restaurants, and twice, in Brentano's, and when she saw paperweights that she liked very much-one a butterfly of some rare strain encased in Plexiglas weighing two pounds, the other a rare shell suspended in a globe of Plexiglas-but which were very expensive, each thirty-five dollars, they bought them for her. She had always heard how Aunt Lena and Uncle Martin were not only well-to-do, but very anxious to display their wealth. Well, she didn't mind taking from people who would never miss it, so she thanked them, gushed over the paperweights, and accepted them happily.

She hungered for the shoving length of Lenny's dick, but there was just no opportunity to receive it. His bedroom was on the same floor as her aunt and uncle's, and it would be too risky, he insisted, for her to come down to him at night. Yet, her bedroom was directly over theirs, and the sounds of her and Lenny's love-making were sure to drift down if he came to her.

The only bit of sexual excitement in the following two days was a few minutes, on Wednesday afternoon, as Martin and Lena were getting dressed for an excursion to the Museum of Modern Art (where Lori really did want to go, as compared to all the exclusive shops they had gone to the day before which had totally bored her), she and Lenny were in the kitchen, alone, and he felt her tits, kissed her, slid a hand down the waistband of her microskirt and panties, finger-fucked her to a swift come up against the wall of the kitchen. She wanted to stroke him off, but he said that could get too messy if his parents suddenly started down the stairs. It took more than a second to clean up a blown wad of come, but little or no time to slip his hand out of her drippy crotch.

The Museum of Modern Art was exciting, and they spent four hours there without really seeing everything in as much detail as she wanted. She knew she would be returning more than once during the summer. They spent only ten minutes in the basement illuminatum, watching the pulsing, flushing patterns of light on the electronic wall, and she could have spent an entire afternoon there, without moving once.

The only thing that blunted the enjoyment was the knowledge that Lenny was leaving, early the next morning, for a job in Colorado, and would not return home until a week before he was due at Princeton, after Lori had left for home. It looked at that moment as if she had tasted the last of that lovely snaky prick, the last for the summer, at least. But she was scheming all the while, refusing to give in to fate quite that easily.

That night, she could not sleep, tossing about on the sheets. She tried to finger-fuck herself, and although she had somewhat of a climax, it was certainly not enough to free her from the demands her body was making upon her, from the burning drive, the need for sex, full and complete and relaxing sex.

She thought of that night when she had listened to her mother and father balling and had finally gotten up and crept down the corridor, had opened their door and spied on them. She felt like that now, like a child rather than a woman, unable to find any way of satisfying her own desperate physical needs.

She muttered curses into the pillow and tried to force herself to sleep by thinking about relaxing topics, like snow, falling and falling and covering everything, like a lazy summer breeze, like a swinging hammock in that breeze ...

None of it was any good.

"Damn!" she said to the darkness.

She wondered if she were a nymphomaniac. After all, she seemed to think an awful lot about sex and to need it a good bit. But she decided it was just the very novelty of this new world she had discovered. And it was also because she had absolutely no sexual hang ups. Her parents, by the time they had started to pass their own hang ups on to her, could be easily refuted, for she was grown and her clever mind was years ahead of itself, able to weed the folly of Judeo-Christian sexual codes from the truth-that life should be lived in enjoyment and that nothing was wrong unless you hurt someone.

She was not a plastic, fantastic, All American Cunt, a woman to be used for a man's joy. She would use a man as much as he used her. She reveled in sex, and she was a healthier individual for recognizing the need, especially in young women, for a great deal of sensual stimulation, just as young men require it through their stud years, in quantities that amaze older people. She did not subscribe to the philosophy (if you could call it that) that a young man should go out and get all the ass he could, learn his techniques-while a young woman was supposed to sit at home and knit or something if she wanted to maintain any image better than that of a hopeless, degenerated slut and depraved whore. Men and women were equal. What was sauce for the goose was also and invariably sauce for the gander.

She played in her drippy pie a while longer.

Her clit was swollen amazingly. The very tip of it protruded from her labia. It was a little, little prick.

But she wanted a big one.

Lenny's big one ...

... deep in her ...

... balls on her ass ...

... come flushing into her mouth ... his hands on her tits, flicking her nipples ...

"Damnit!"

The word hissed quietly about the room.

She got up, naked, and slipped into her shortie nightgown, prepared to do some illicit sneaking around as she had done that night at home. There would be no sleep before her nookie had its fill of cock.

She walked quietly to the door, not wanting to raise any noise that might be heard by her aunt and uncle sleeping below. It was three in the morning, and there was not much chance that they would be awake to hear a creaking floorboard, or even interpret it as her sneaking out of her room if they did happen to hear it. But she was as quiet as a cat, just the same, her lithe legs moving like the legs of an animal stalking prey, the muscles taut, her entire body relaxed, yet ready to spring rigid at the slightest noise that might indicate discovery.

She opened the door carefully, drawing it inward, giving herself a view of the little hallway that connected the two rooms on the third floor of the townhouse. She stepped into the carpeted corridor, did not close her door, and walked softly to the head of the stairs, went down them without incident.

She crept past Lena and Martin's bedroom, heard the faint sound of snoring and hoped that her aunt was as dead to the world as her uncle and didn't suffer from insomnia.

She reached the end of the hallway on this larger floor, past the bathroom and the walk-in cedar closet, past the den on the other side, reached the closed door that would give her access to Lenny.

Pausing, she listened, heard nothing beyond.

She touched the knob, twisted it, cautiously opened the door inch by inch. She did not want to wake him before he could see who it was, for he might cry out and alert Lena and Martin, which would be, to say the least, more than a bit awkward.

Awkward?

Disastrous!

In the room, she closed the door and stood very still, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the darkness, lest she move in ignorance and fall over a chair or something, like a burglar in a very cheap movie. Her cunnie was so hot and quivery that she found it difficult not to just run and jump into his bed, grab for the length of dick between his legs ...

"So you got here at last," a voice said.

She almost yelped out loud with fright, and only her constant fear of discovery by Aunt Lena and Uncle Martin kept her quiet-or relatively quiet as she gurgled a strangled cry for help deep in her slender throat.

"I've been lying here ever since they went to bed two and a half hours ago!"

"Lenny?"

"Who else?"

"You expected me?"

"Who else?"

"But you said it would be foolish to try to make it while they were in the house. You said not to try it."

"Sometimes, my horniness gets the better of my common sense," he whispered.

"Mine too." She giggled, blinked as the outline of him began to make itself visible where he sat on the bed, back against the headboard.

"Come to poppa," he said, raising shadow arms.

"Will poppa come for me?" she asked, giggling.

"Poppa has been saving it for centuries, and you can have a nice creamy dessert if you want to come suck for it."

"I love creamy desserts," she said, walking quickly towards the bed and the stiff cock that she had been dreaming of for two days ...