Chapter 2
John armed his prick swiftly now. He imagined that he and the long-legged girl were married; it was their wedding night! he was pushing his knob into her virginal pussy, and she was all turned on by his earlier kisses and caresses. She was ready for this first, sweet invasion.
He had played around with his cock for over twenty minutes and the final burst of pleasure was a necessity. His hips curved high, his hand whipped swiftly, and he closed his eyes and imagined that the leggy girl was cry- ing out, whimpering her delight.
The hot waves of joy swept up his legs, to his cock; his balls were up tight against the base of his trembling, swollen prick, his knob expanded even more, and the sensations grew too much to describe. His come arched high in the air, his hips jerked, and he made fuck-motions with his hips as the stream of come spurted out in achy, pulsing beats.
Moaning, he quieted, his legs shaking. He jerked his hand from his cock and cursed his weakness. Another futile orgasm. Another big smear on another carpet. Wasted sex energies. A fine way to initiate his new apartment. But hell. He was too bashful to go out and try to date girls. Besides, only tramps gave it out without the finger-band; and he didn't even have a girlfriend.
Nell Winter hurried from her bedroom and almost ran to the bathroom. She didn't want to play with herself in bed, not right now. John might hear her and get the wrong ideas about her. She was a respectable widow.
She locked the bathroom door, rushed out of her robe, and sprawled naked on the toilet seat. She reached into a nearby drawer, found her artificial cock, and tipped her hips high for the entrance.
Ohhhh, I need it badly, she thought, feverishly. I'm as hot as a firecracker. I'm sopping wet, and I haven't been so turned-on for years. When he pumped his come out in the air, I almost died. I almost had an orgasm, right there.
Her left hand rose to her stinging, swollen tits. She massaged them swiftly, knowingly. She pushed the head of the dildo into her pussy. Ohhhh-delicious! Thrills chased along her heavy, burning thighs, her clit was very stiff and tingly.
She moaned and shuddered as pleasure clutched at her, her cunt convulsed deliciously around his driving prick. She thrust wildly, her heels thudding on the floor. It was tearing her pussy apart.
John sat rigidly in the Sumpter movie house, staring unseeingly at the old John Wayne war movie. On his way to town he had mailed another payment into his College Fund, as he called it. The money went to a bank in Lake City, where he had already accumulated several thousand dollars.
He was good at math; he wanted to take a business course at the University of Idaho when he was twenty; he wanted to get out of the rough woods camps eventually. He wasn't ashamed of his old Ford, or the rather conservative way he lived; he wanted to better himself.
Now that he was on another good job, he could afford to save more money. He had gone to the movie for one reason; as he had strolled down town on this Saturday night, he had seen the leggy girl duck into The Rex. He had followed.
He hadn't seen her on the main floor, so he had climbed to the balcony, and, sure enough, he spotted her. Now, he was sitting three seats from her, as near as he felt he should go. A visit with a grocery store owner had given him the information he'd needed. Her name was Dee Evans, she was single, she lived with her mother and her stepfather. A younger sister, Candy, was at home, too. Dee worked in the office at the Sumpter Lumber Mill.
Tonight she wore slacks and a conservative jersey, and a light jacket around her shoulders. Her legs were so long she sat rather awkwardly in the seat, thighs apart. The jersey outlined the luscious contours of her generous tits. In the twilight of the theater, her hair, shaped rather tightly to her head, seemed black. Her profile was delightful, her full mouth seeming more voluptuously pouted than he'd remembered.
As he munched popcorn, he caught her peering at him, and as their eyes met, she quickly averted her eyes, gazing straight ahead. His heart was pounding, and his prick tingled. Could she really be interested? He was younger than she, more than she realized-but he would never tell, if he ever had the chance.
The way the grocer had talked, Dee was some kind of local freak. She never dated; she was a loner. Apparently, she was a man hater. A smirk and a sly wink from his informant indicated there had to be something queer or odd about her. Why wasn't she out on her own, at her age? She made good money.
Sarah had recently married a man much younger than she was; could it be that Dee liked her stepfather? Candy got around, all right. She was currently going with some guy named Dick Ulster, a known cocksman and man about town. A very peculiar household.
In his own mind, John had a very different notion about Dee Evans. She had a sensitive face, she was obviously intelligent, but extremely shy, like himself. How could he get to know her.
Keeping his head straight forward, as though he were watching the movie, he let his gaze slide toward her. Gradually, he was aware of her occasional glances in his direction. She became rather restless; she moved her long legs around now and then. His cock was heating. She was the most fascinating girl he had ever seen.
What did she do for sex? Was she as cold as everyone thought? He doubted that very much. To him she seemed extremely sensual; no girl could have a mouth like that, such a feminine, coltish way of walking, such long, long, sexy legs, and not be provocatively endowed with depths of passion.
Her shyness was a kind of challenge-but how in hell could a guy as backward as himself ever break the ice? Was she wearing fancy pink panties under those tights? Was her bra lacy and perfumed? He shuddered, his prick rising up along his belly.
I guess tonight I'll go to a whore house, he thought angrily. I've got to know how it feels to have a girl under me. It's either that or jack off again. Damn. I'll get the hell out of here and have a few drinks and screw up my courage. But before I go I'll make one pass at her. All I can do is get a hand on my face.
Fists clenched, his jacket hiding the high bulge in his pants, he stood up and took a seat behind Dee. A faint girlish fragrance drifting to his nostrils made his knob swell even more.
"Like to have a drink after the show?" he whispered, leaning forward.
She sat very stiffly for several long seconds, almost as if she hadn't heard him. A young couple behind him broke out of a clinch. The girl giggled.
"Sit beside her, chump-not behind her."
Dee's head turned, and John held his breath. She gave him a cool, withering glance.
"I'm not a pickup! Please go."
"Sorry," he muttered, his face flaming.
"Boy, how square can you get!" the young girl tittered.
John bolted along between the rows of seats, rushing down from the balcony. Hell with her. Uppity. Too good for him. He wanted to rush back up the stair and tell her off.
He slammed out of the theater and headed for the nearest bar. Shit! A few drinks and a lay in a crib and he'd forget Dee. Let her be a damned old maid. He'd get even with her, somehow. You bet.
An hour later, with four belts of whisky in his craw, John walked rather unsteadily toward the nearest rooming house. He was new in town; he didn't give a damn who saw him go up the steps, under the red neon sign. He pushed a doorbell and waited.
Almost instantly the panel opened. He inhaled musky perfume, saw a plushy parlor and found himself looking at a bright, young, painted face. Sexy, man.
"Well!" the girl breathed. "Come on in!"
As the door closed behind him, as he heard the click of the lock, as the girl tucked her arm familiarly through his and led him into another luxuriously furnished room, he had a wild impulse to turn and flee. But the liquor was working its subtle magic; he was big and strong and it was about time he got himself a piece of ass.
His hard-on was gone, though. He felt rather shriveled. Another girl entered quickly, wearing only a pair of sexy tights and a black, thin bra, her rounded ass wiggling provocatively. Her smile would have melted a stone statue.
"This is Rita, honey," the first girl said. "She'll show you a real good time!"
"Mmmmmmm, you know it, big man." Rita purred, squeezing his arm. She was a plumpish brunette, rather short, but with prominent tits and a jiggly ass. His whiskey courage improved his outlook.
"Are you sure you're twenty-one, honey?" Rita murmured, leading him into another room. A wide bed dominated the place. There was a sink in one corner, a dim light glowed in another corner.
"Hell, yes, baby!" John said bravely.
"How much time you want to pay for, good looking?"
"Well-half an hour?"
Rita giggled, a rather sly look in her knowing, black eyes. "Sure, honey. That'll be fifty bucks."
"Uhhh-mmmm!" he said, reaching for his billfold. What the hell? Why not go all out the first time? He made fifty in one day, if he worked hard. Shit. Did anything matter now but getting that piece of ass?
A light went on over the sink. Then the girl disappeared with his money. He stood awkwardly, waiting. When she reappeared she looked puzzled.
"Aren't you undressed? Come on, honey. I got to inspect it."
"Yeah, sure. Sorry."
She stood, legs apart, her smile wide, her tits straining at the fancy bra. "This is your first trip, huh?"
He flushed. "Guess so ... " "Look, honey. You just relax and let Rita do the stuff, huh? I know how it is . . . Come on, baby. Pants down, shirt off. You want to see my tits?"
He nodded, his prick tingling. Man, this was something! She unhooked her bra and let her breasts out. The dark nipples were twin eyes, staring at him. A whore's big tits, ready for his hands. They were the first pair of naked tits he had ever seen.
In a kind of daze, he undressed. When his shorts came down, Rita gasped.
"Honey. That's some big, nice prick you've got!"
She reached for it and held it in her right hand, and magically it began to enlarge even more. Waves of rutty need swept through his body. His balls were drawing up, his knob was swelling, tingling.
"Over here, honey," she encouraged. She led him to the sink, and she ran hot water into the bowl. She soaped her hands and then his rigid prick. Man, oh, man! She pulled his foreskin back and stared at the glans; she milked his cock shaft. He couldn't quite understand.
"You're okay, baby," Rita smiled. She washed his prick gently.
He clutched at her shoulders, his passion rising, rising. A woman's hands on his cock. Her naked tits right in front of him. He moaned, and his hips lurched, and he felt the raging need sweep out to the head of his prick, he was spurting into the water and all over the wall.
"Ohhhh!" she gasped. "Honey! Don't get so carried away!"
"Uhhhhh!" he gasped, his hands finding her tits.
"Easy, hon," she whispered. "Over on the bed. We want the next one right up where it counts, don't we?"
She means we'll be fucking, he thought dizzily.
He watched her slide out of the colored bikini panty and sink down on the bed. She drew a pillow behind her head and opened her thighs. The black bun of her sex hole was exciting.
In a kind of trance, he walked to the bed, his prick still rigid. Her inviting smile, her relaxed manner, encouraged him. Just before she had wiggled to the pad, he had seen her rub something on her puss. Lubricant, probably. He had heard about Vaseline.
She was pretending to be excited, but of course she wasn't. This was her work; he knew a good whore sometimes took on twenty men in an evening. The gross take figured out at about a dollar a minute. The prostitute got about half of that. The oldest profession still flourished. This girl couldn't be over twenty-two; her body still was firm, her features were smooth, and she didn't look hard.
"Lie down, honey," she murmured, weaving her ass. "I'll make it nice and easy for you!"
No dirty words, no rough talk. He appreciated that. He sank down at her right, and she turned quickly sideways, her hand touching his prick, her pussy curved toward him.
"Play with me, honey. We have lots of time." He shuddered with rising excitement; her fingers moved gently and expertly on his cock. His hand was drawn, like a metal object toward a magnet, to her pussy. He touched the secret, sexy place. She wiggled it nearer, breathing faster.
"Kiss my tits hon," she murmured. "Make the nipples hard."
His cockhead was puffing again, the faint woman scent was working on his starved nerve centers. His hips curved toward the playful hand, and he shuddered as the sweet yearning built wildly in his loins.
"Ohhhh, don't come yet, honey." she gasped, gliding smoothly above him, her thighs opened.
She was straddling him before he realized what was happening; his tingling knob was touching her cunt; she uttered a moan of pleasure as her pussy lips opened for his knob.
Now, it was happening. His prick was oozing, squeezing into a woman's cunt. Up, up it went into her vagina. The savage urgency of his need began to explode. She stroked once, twice, and the hot flood of his seed spurted up into her pussy.
Her cunt tightened on his cockshaft. She cooed soft words. "Honey, that's a big, big one. I love it. Come to Rita."
His fingers clutched at her tits, and he groaned with joy; she stroked and stroked, weaving the bed, as the achy sex shivers raced through his pelvis and out to the head of his cock. Man, oh, man! This was where his seed belonged. This was screwing. This was it.
Rita paused and watched the tautness leave his young, handsome face. A virgin, a real cherry. She had had only one such experience. She was guessing now, from his responses, that he probably wasn't even of age. His prick wasn't softening after his come-off. He was strong and young. He could probably shoot four or five golden bullets in the time allotted.
As hardened as she had become, after a year in her business, she found her resolves weakening. Having an orgasm on Saturday night was dangerous; she had to be in top form, later. At midnight she had an all-night date with an older man, but she could fake her delights.
I may not have a chance like this for months, she thought, beginning to slide up and down. His big cock just fits in my cunt. I've got to go off with him; I just can't resist it. I shouldn't have taken all that beer this afternoon. It slows me down. But I can make it; I know I can. His knob reaches right up where the action is. I can't even take it all.
John marveled at Rita's dexterity. She was swinging her ass around and around, and her nipples were sharpening. He had imagined that he would be on top, taking her; but he liked this. She was doing the thing, the screwing. Terrific.
Her quickened breathing seemed terribly real. Her pretty face was flushed, her tits were enlarging.
"Honey" she panted, resting again. "Don't ever breathe a word, but I'm going to come with you. Would you like that?"
"Yeah!" he cried feverishly.
"Shhhh! Not so loud. Promise you won't tell Jerry?" "I promise!" he gasped.
"You're a wonderful, young, strong fellow," she whispered, jiggling her tits in his hands. "I'm going to give you a real hot ride!"
He couldn't believe it; she probably said this to all of her customers to make things realistic. Well, it was delicious. She knew her business. The bed began to creak. Man, his prick was growing even larger. The ache to finish was a hard, burning necessity. The sweet tossing of her plump ass was so terribly erotic he was swept into a jazzy zone of total involvement.
She was playing with his passion now. She knew just when he was about to finish, and she would stop stroking. It was almost like when he delayed his pleasure while he was jacking off. And when she tightened her pussy, that was almost too much.
Now her tongue came far out, she fluttered it between her fleshy lips and she went slowly around and around. Her dark eyes were widening, a look of rapt, sensual enjoyment transformed her features. What an actress she was.
"Uhhhh!" he moaned.
"Ohhhh, please don't come yet, honey!" she panted, resting again.
"I-can't-wait!" he cried.
"Hold it just a little while!" she breathed, stroking again. Now her bottom moved swiftly with real pur- pose. Her eyes closed, her face twisted, her mouth suddenly descended on his, her lips burned around his lips, and a hot tongue dived into his throat.
Whores weren't supposed to kiss customers. But she was moaning and shaking, her pussy starting to do movements around his prick. Her tongue was like a sword in his mouth, plunging, stroking.
Now, she raised her torso, her head went back, and she breathed harshly.
"Ohhhh, it's coming, honey. Don't move. Let me do it. Ahhhh. Ohhhh, sweet Jesus. Almost, almost. Now, now, now. I'm making it. Ohhh, come now-come with me."
Her ass jiggled like a cork on restless water; the bed shimmied, he felt a tightening of her vagina. Her whole body vibrated, and then he was pouring his juice up into her pussy, spurt after spurt. Her pussy was sucking his come; it was churning wildly around his throbbing cock.
Her last, hard, long lunges brought a feverish moan from her lips. She softened, panting hard, still shivering, still braced above him, while her pussy fluttered delectably.
I think she did have an orgasm, he thought. Man alive. What an experience. I'm really getting my money's worth.
"Honey, what's your name?" she panted, staring down at him in a rather intent manner.
"John. John Bellows."
"Have you got a phone, hon?"
"They're putting it in today. I'm new in town."
She sighed, apparently reluctant to break the sweet, sexy connection.
"Do you ever date girls, honey?"
"Nah. Haven't been here long enough."
"Look, I have some days off coming," she smiled. "Would you like to meet me in Spokane? We could have all kinds of fun."
He couldn't believe it. Might as well say yes. What could he lose? She was just putting him on, so he'd come back and spend more money. His sex-urges were diminishing. He felt rather washed out.
"Sure," he answered bravely. He wouldn't be able to get away from his job, anyway. It all sounded too phony. She glanced at her watch just as a light tapping sounded on the door near the sink.
"Time's up, honey," she whispered. She kissed him hard, on the mouth, pressing her tits into his chest. "You're really something, John. Really! I'll call you soon."
Dee, dressed for sleeping, stared at the opened pages of a book she had taken upstairs, but she wasn't seeing one word. She was re-living the past hour or so. She had left the theater shortly after John had rushed away. She had stood in the darkness of an alley and had watched him come out of a bar across the street, walk rather unsteadily to the nearest rooming house and go inside.
He had gone to a whore house. How awful. Dee knew all about the houses in Sumpter; it was common knowledge.
How could he be so cheap? He was like all the other men. A few drinks and then a filthy roll with a paid woman.
She had waited and waited for him to emerge from the rooming house. Finally, after twenty minutes, she had given it up and driven home. Sarah and Carl were back home, surprisingly. She could hear them talking in their bedroom, faintly. Candy was out somewhere with Dick.
I hate him, she thought. I hate him for being common. Why did I cool him in the balcony? I was afraid. Does he need sex that badly? Ohhhh, I was rude and awful. He asked me for a date. I hate myself now. But he's too young for me. I'd feel ridiculous going out with him. Legs Evans is robbing the cradle for dates, people would say. She must be getting desperate.
Ohhh, I should leave this place and go to Spokane. I could get a different office job. I should be out on my own.
Suddenly the voices in the next room took on a familiar ring. Sarah was giggling, Carl was laughing in a suggestive manner. They were going to have their fun again.
She almost threw the book down, crawled off the bed and put her ear against the wall that divided her quarters from Sarah's bedroom. She was already turned on; the experience at the movies had aroused her. And he hadn't even touched her.
This awful listening wasn't the answer, either-but as long as she had to bear the pain of hearing the bed creak and rattle, she might as well catch what they were saying, before they did it.
"... some strip show we saw last night, wasn't it, honey?" Sarah laughed.
"You know it!" he exclaimed. "How come a dame likes to watch another dame take her clothes off?"
"Well, it's exciting when men watch it, lover!"
"Yeah, I suppose so . . . Hey, why don't you give me a show?"
"Oh, you cocky thing, you." Sarah giggled. "You know what my pussy looks like."
They've been drinking, Dee thought. They don't care what they say. How crude and dirty. Why couldn't they be more romantic about it? Well, maybe they were, when they got right down to it.
Generally she didn't put her ear to the wall; listening to the sigh of bedsprings was suggestive enough. She wished sometimes she could watch them. If she ever got married she would want to know how to do it. She was sure that Sarah was sometimes on top. She had also heard that a lot of whores did their thing that way. What an unladylike act. How could any decent married woman bounce around like a dirty slut?
"... hey, that's the way." Carl exclaimed. "Wiggle it."
"Well, bring your prick out so I can see it, honey."
Dee shuddered. How filthy could Sarah be? Prick and pussy. Make the whole thing cheap. But obviously Carl was enjoying it. What was Sarah doing? Stripping and weaving her oversized body?
"You're charging my batteries, baby," Carl exclaimed.
"Ohhh, good, honey!" Sarah giggled. "I want to come about four times."
Dee's legs trembled; she almost sank to the floor. Sarah was a bitch. Mouthing obscene words, turning love into a kind of show. Dee knew what coming meant, all right. Four times.
Ohhhh, I should dress and leave the house. This is horrible. She's got a young, strong husband, and she's going wild. She's no better than a tramp. I can't bear it; I'll have to have it again myself. I'm already wet, my tits are stinging.
"Honey, that's terrific!" Sarah laughed. The bed jiggled. "It's getting real big."
"Ready to ride it now, baby?" Carl laughed.
Dee could bear no more audio. She left the wall and fell across her bed, shivering with need. Their awful talk was too much. She had imagined that Carl was such a gentleman. And he did know how to act around the house.
She turned out the light at the head of the bed, she slipped a pillow between her long thighs, rolled on top of it, and began to thrust her hips at it. Her tits were hard and achy, and her pussy simply screamed for relief.
Sometimes she did it this way so she wouldn't have to touch her pussy with her fingers. It was all masturbation, or auto-eroticism-a much cleaner word-but loving a pillow was more like really having a man between her legs. Moving her hips in the ancient sex rhythm seemed to give her more pleasure. It lasted longer.
I hate that guy at the movies, but I want him now. Why can't he be here, kissing me and playing with my body? Legs Evans needs attention. She wants a boy friend terribly!
Ohhhh, it feels very rich and good tonight. Stuff is dripping from my cunt all over the pillow. My clit is very tender.
From Carl and Sarah, in the next room, came the old familiar jiggling of the bedsprings. She was topping him! She was making the noises. Dee could imagine the rise and fall of Sarah's plump bottom. He was probably playing with her big tits. His cock was sliding in her pussy. Faint, suggestive laughter reached Dee's ears.
Bang went the bed again. Another wait. Delay the orgasm. Well, they were man and wife; this thing cemented their relationship. Maybe lots of couples talked sexy before they fucked. Was she right to call it dirty? What they did in the bedroom was their own business.
Sarah still was cheap for allowing such talk, though. No nice girl would think of saying prick and pussy. Why did she have to tell him she wanted to come four times? She was just degrading herself.
But Dee's sex fever climbed, as she hunched faster at the pillow, the dirty words and visions swamped her brain. That guy was spreading her thighs, bringing his face against her cunt. He was loving her pussy. His tongue was invading her virginal hole. Now, he was turning around so she could take his cock in her mouth. Ohhhh, I want it, she thought wildly.
Ohhhh, honey, here I come. Ohhhhh, it's coming hard and deep. Ohhhh, I want to yell, but I can't! Carl and Sarah would hear me. They think I'm asleep. Ohhhh, now-now-now-Ohhhh-I'm going off.
What a bitch I really am! she thought guiltily. Going off was a terrible expression. Where had she heard it? In a rest room at high school, when she had eavesdropped on two pretty, curvy gals who had double dated the might before.
"... he went off all over my legs! I didn't let him put it in me . . . " The inner mind never really forgot anything; and in her excitement the lewd expression had daggered into her conscious thinking.
Ohhhh, I must be some kind of weirdo. When I'm turned on, when I'm right into the best part of it, I'm somebody else. I'm a panting bitch, just like Sarah. Only she admits it. She performs instead of thinking about it. And they made their pleasure last and last.
They have several orgasms.
Ohhh, hell! What am I going to do?"