Chapter 12

Over the next week, Lori came to despise her aunt and uncle for their obsession with materialism, with gaining new possessions, with impressing her, with their spoutings about the danger of allowing students to get too militant about social problems. They were liberals, they protested, but there was a limit. And it seemed to Lori that, if they felt that limit had been breached, they would not hesitate to suggest that student protestors and anti-war people be put in one of those twelve concentration camps Lyndon Johnson had established and Richard Nixon had seen fit to continue in operation. They were zealous about protecting their position, for they had made their money through stocks and bonds, investing what Martin had earned through ten years of work as an architect, and they were not about to give an inch even if it meant giving someone else a reason to life or a foot up out of poverty. Yet they pretended to be hip. He wore his hair over his collar, wore his sideburns long, cultivated a mustache. Lena wore miniskirts, and had the legs for them, wild clothes, coats, scarf’s to her knees. They both spoke in the idiom of the moment, with the slang of the day. What was sad, Lori thought, was that neither of them seemed to realize the phoniness of their lifestyle, the hypocrisy of their attitudes. She could not even bring herself to think of them as evil, for they were not evil, only rather stupid and rather desperate about growing old. She knew that both of them tinted their hair, and she thought it a shame-especially on Martin's part, since, if he had permitted his hair to be salt and pepper colored, he would have been quite sexy.

To escape from the constant barrage of gifts and tours and tickets to shows, she made it plain that she wanted time to learn about the city on her own, to explore Manhattan, where they lived, in detail. Here was the largest conglomeration of publishing houses in the world, here the greatest number of legitimate theaters in existence, here there were pornography shops operating like little drugstores, and shops specializing in Indian goods, bookstores and movies and nearly anything anyone could ever want. It was as If the entire world had been boiled down to a city of essentials, to a representative sampling of everything. She loved the place.

In her third day of exploring, she went to a theater showing a motion picture which purported to deal with the sexual freedom and the nature of sexual attitudes in Denmark. She had read some reviews of the film which said it was scorching and that it showed everything, though she could hardly imagine that! She was afraid they would not let her in, though she dressed in the only suit she had brought, a sexy, low-cut thing she had altered after her mother had purchased it, thinking it would remain conservative. They never questioned her, though the manager and usher gave her long, appraising looks, the usher licking his lips and trying to say something clever-which he could not get out for the knot in his tongue.

The first ten minutes of the film were taken over with a discussion between the narrator and three "psychiatrists" about the value of pornography and of uninhibited sexual codes. It was interesting at times, silly and juvenile at others, and its entire intent was to add redeeming social value, Lori supposed, to what would be shown later.

She was about to leave the theater and ask for her money back, when they gave up the stupid quadrilogue of narrator and psychiatrists and shifted to a pornographic film studio in Denmark. As the narrator discussed the recent liberalization of obscenity laws in the Danish Parliament and discussed the great drop in sex crimes, divorces, and mental illness since that decision, the filmmakers worked unobstructed to get their set ready for action.

What held Lori there was that, off to one side, there was a beautiful girl with teacup sized tits, long, stunning legs, perhaps eighteen. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, nude. Beside her, also nude, was her partner for the sex film, a big Dane with blond hair and a likeable smile. He was diddling himself, and his pecker was huge and hard as rock!

She had not had cock since Lenny had gone. And now, a week later, she was horny enough to begin with. Watching that well-hung Dane stroke his meat made her pussy jiggle and weep sweet sex creams.

She squirmed in her seat, but gave up all ideas of leaving that had occupied her mind only moments earlier.

The filmmakers had the lighting arranged, and they began placing the actor and actress-if such a term could be applied in this instance. Still watching that sonofabitch play with his huge dork, Lori was certain that none of this was acting-but the goddamned real thing!

She wished Lenny were here to watch this with her and to diddle her little box while she watched the screen.

The man lay on the bed, his cock sticking straight into the air, bloated, pulsing visibly. While the director gave final instructions, the girl fondled the big meat rod, almost absent-mindedly. Then everything was set, the take chalk board was slapped open and shut, and the filming began.

Lori gasped as the girl licked a tongue slowly up the long peter and then sucked the head into her mouth. She pumped on the root with obvious delight, holding the hairy nuts in her hand.

Lori blinked, not quite able to believe this.

After a few minutes of sucking his big wang, she pulled back, moved up and settled her cunt down of the pulsing root!

No wonder the article in VARIETY said it would be raided more than once-it had been raided last week, though the theater obtained another print from the distributor and continued showing the film. The court had found the police negligent in confiscating the film without a magistrate's hearing first, and now everyone knew they were just laying off until they thought the theater was feeling fat and cozy. Then they'd do it legally. Though it very well might not hold up in court, since the Supreme Court had, in the last few years, gotten braver and had gone against the wishes of the asexual, mentally fucked religious fanatics who thought the body obscene and filthy instead of lovely and exciting.

The camera panned in on the stretched lips of the young girl's suctioning twat, the thick mass of peter flesh that slipped in and out of her, all greasy with her cunt fluids.

"You like the movie?" a soft voice asked next to her.

She turned and saw that a man had sat down next to her. He was in his forties, not unpleasant looking, though a little jowly. He had the look of a successful man, and what she saw of his clothes in the darkness was enough to indicate money.

"Very much," she said.

He put an arm around her, squeezed her lightly bra-covered tit, massaged it pleasantly.

"Oh, look at that!" he gasped.

On the screen, they were making a second sex film while the narrator talked, and three girls were licking a big, black penis, the biggest dick Lori had ever seen. The black man who owned it smiled happily as the girls, all lovely and Swedish-looking, lathered his pussy fucker quite thoroughly.

Lori shivered.

"I'll bet that monster shoots a ton!" the man said. He took her hand in his and laid it in his lap. "I've seen this one every afternoon since it's been playing. When you run the business, you can afford to take time out for pleasantries. Now they do some more talking with the psychiatrists, but it only lasts five minutes this time. Do you mind jerking me off?"

She hardly knew what to say, but she did know that she would not be able to refuse him, not as hot as she was for sex, any kind of sex, even if it was only jerking his nuts loose of their wad.

She used both hands to pull open his trousers and free his cock. It was not very long, maybe five or six inches, but it was very, very thick. She groaned softly, deep in her throat as she felt it hot and hard in her little hands.

"Like it, sugar?" he asked.

"It's nice," she agreed.

"I'd love to shove it up your precious little cunt. You're an absolute knockout!"

She did not respond. She merely jerked the meat stick with loving care and perfect rhythm. She spat in her hand and slimed him, then stroked him quickly.

"Ah, sugar, you're going to get a blessing from my balls any second now."

"Shoot it," she whispered. "Yeah, blow your come!"

On the screen, she saw a white girl sucking a black cock while a white cock was rubbed against her cheek. Suddenly, the black guy pulled his hot bone from her mouth and blew come all over her face. Thick wads of it ran down over her smiling countenance, clogged one nostril. Seconds later, the white cock burst from being rubbed on her cheeks, and she was very nearly literally drowning in thick rivers of come ...

Then man in the seat beside her had obviously also been watching, for he groaned, bucked in his seat, and unloaded a huge charge of sperm so thick it was like vanilla pudding. Five hard squirts filled her hand, made the stuff run down her wrist.

"Oh, Jesus, what a creamy little bitch you are!" he hissed, his prick spasming dryly.

She raised her slimed hand and, as she watched a guy fucking hell out of a girl on the screen, a girl strikingly like Shana Alexandre she ate the slop of his nuts off her hand, savoring the rich taste and odor.

"You're the hottest chick I've ever seen!" he said, watching her. "I could use another hand job, sugar."

Sure enough, his cock was still hard, had not gone down at all. She finished stroking the meat a second time, received two watery squirts of jism, and ate that as well. Her own crotch seethed with sexual desire, and actually experienced several minor climaxes, but nothing like she wanted.

When she looked up to ask the man if he would like to take her somewhere for more than hand jobs, he was gone.

Damn, she thought, I wish they had movie theaters like this in Altoona, Pennsylvania!