Chapter 8
"Hey, that tall gal really gets her kicks when she dances."
The giggly, feminine voice broke into Dee's daydream, she felt a wild flood of shame. The girl and her guy had heard Dee's muffled moans of pleasure, and now they were laughing about it.
"Go to hell, both of you!" Dee flared, rushing out of John's embrace, through the lounge and out into the cool, night air. She stood shivering on the sidewalk, wetness leaking from her panty, down her thighs. A quaky, stinging aftermath lingered in her cunt.
John came bolting out of the lounge, running up to her. He seized her arm.
"Dee-don't run! There are other places." "Take me home, please!" she cried, not looking at him. Her face was aflame. "If you don't, I'll call a cab."
"Okay, okay." His voice sounded bleak.
They walked to his car, parked near the theater. He tried to touch her arm and she jerked away. She got in the front seat and huddled at the far corner, away from him.
I had two climaxes on the dance floor, she thought, miserably. I must be some kind of nympho. Horrible. Slutty.
He climbed quietly behind the wheel and started the car. He looked straight ahead, stonily. He drove through the quiet residential streets, pulled up in front of her apartment. The leakage from her pussy was staining her skirt, she could feel it. Her clit was still erect, her tits swollen.
She opened the door and jumped out before he could leave the driver's side.
"Don't ever call me again, John. I'm a freak."
He watched her race toward her front door. It opened, she disappeared. An awful sinking sensation grabbed at his belly. He cursed and doubled his hands into fists.
She's ashamed of her passion, he thought. She had a couple of spasms before we hardly started dancing. She's the most sensual girl I ever saw. Of course, I haven't been around much.
He spun gravel pulling away from the curb. He drove around a while, mechanically, seeing nothing, steering by instinct.
I almost came myself, he thought. I felt her shuddering, and I got a terrific charge. Why the hell didn't she just relax and enjoy it? She's got a hangup. Hell, she likes me, she said so, and I could feel it, but she must have started turning on in the theater, and when we touched . . .
I ought to get drunk and screw another whore, he thought. No. I've had enough of that stuff. I'll drive back home and crawl in the sack with Nell Winter. She's not afraid to swing. ^.
But when he reached home, he remembered that Nell had gone to a hen party for cards and gossip. Disgusted, he undressed and prepared for bed. If his urges became too strong he could use his hand.
Dee, now safely in her apartment, the door locked, dropped on the living room sofa, her face still hot with confusion and shame.
I was too excited, she thought. When we went in the theater I was turning warm, and by the time we reached the cocktail lounge I was burning. Ohhh, I hate that girl who said those words. She was rubbing herself on her date, and when I tried dancing in close I went into a climax. What a horrid, messy situation.
She stood up and ran to the bathroom, as more juices leaked from her pussy. She removed her skirt and mini-slip and finally her wet panty. She used a towel on her pussy. Her cunt still was tender, puffy. Her clit was poking out, she was still turned on.
Sighing, she took off the rest of her clothes. Her tits were just as tender as the rest of her. She had tasted the feverish pleasure of climaxing in a man's arms, she was dying for more relief, she knew she had to finish.
We were getting along fine, at first, she thought, wistfully. We were talking, and I enjoyed it; I felt comfortable with him-and then I went into a sex spin. I ruined the whole evening.
She wondered now why she hadn't just gone to the rest room, cleaned herself, and returned to the intimacy of the booth and the dance floor. It was all too new for her; she didn't know how to act with a date. Her passions lived too close to the surface.
As she sat down on the toilet seat and reached for her cunt, staring at her swollen tits in the mirror, she made a decision. Was she too late. Had John already gone to a whore house.
She ran from the toilet, naked, and went to her telephone.
John was crawling into his pajamas when the phone rang. He cursed, walked to the living room and yanked the receiver from its cradle.
"Yes?" he snapped.
"This is Dee," came the faint, feminine answer. "John, I'm terribly sorry! I-would you feel like driving over here, to my place?" He caught the shaky, strained tone of her voice.
"You said-" he began.
"Oh, I know!" she answered. "Please?"
"Right." he said, hope gathering in his being. He dropped the receiver, his prick hardening. Dames. What went on in her mind, anyway? But she was asking, and he didn't want to make things any worse between them. When he knocked on her apartment door, his heart hammering, a kind of ache in his cock, he wondered if they would ever be able to relax. He had had some experience, with knowing, experienced women, but he had never touched a nice girl; he had never even kissed one. But if she was willing, he would sure as hell give it a try.
The door opened, and he saw her in a filmy negligee affair, and although she had obviously fixed her makeup and was trying to be alluring, her face was very pale; she looked frightened.
Carl Wall, cruising the streets near Dee's apartment, his mind occupied with thoughts of revenge, suddenly noticed John's car parked behind Dee's auto. Aha! That's how it was, eh? Dee had moved out and now she was entertaining a boy friend.
Carl knew quite a lot about John Bellows; he looked rather young for a girl Dee's age, but he was single, Dee was single, and the bastard was after that cherry Dee carried around between her long, long thighs. Damn them both, Carl thought, viciously. I'll do my best to break that deal up.
Dee locked the apartment door behind him and turned to face him. The filmy garment delineated the sweetness of her tits, the sweep of her magnificent, long thighs.
"John," she said, her voice tight. "Do things to me, will you?"
He sensed the terrific effort she had put forth to bring him here and to say what she had just said.
He grasped at her, she swayed against him, their mouths collided awkwardly, he felt the sweet yielding of her slender body, the press of her untrained lips, and a wild surge of passion roared through his being. Her lips spread, her head tilted, he tasted the honeyed cling of her mouth, felt her arms clasping hard around his waist.
Suddenly, like a cold knife, the telephone rang, stridently.
"Ohhh," she breathed, turning her head, drawing away, reluctantly. "I'd better answer it."
He nodded, shivering, hating this crazy interruption. She walked to the telephone stand and lifted the receiver. He had a chance to view her figure again, and those long, sweet legs, the fine curves of her hips and ass, the jiggle of her tits fired his interest to new heights.
"Yes?" Dee said, deciding that Terri was calling.
"Hello, Legs," came a sarcastic male voice. "Going to get yourself a little?"
It was Carl Wall. Her wonderful glow began to fade. How hateful could he be? He was spying on her. ,He had evidently seen John drive up.
"Stop bothering me!" she snapped. "Or I'll call the police!"
He laughed, his voice sounding tinny and vicious. "I'm getting even, baby. The word's going put, about you and that Lesbian! You give me that cherry and I'll let you alone."
"Ohhh!" she gasped. She dropped the receiver, shaking with fright. She turned, staring appealingly at John. "Some awful telephone tormenter!" I can't tell John the truth. I had sex with Terri. That monster.
"Leave the phone off the hook," John said. "And tomorrow you'd better have your number changed."
She nodded, biting her lips. She took the receiver out of the cradle and placed it oh the table.
John circled her waist with his left hand and drew her to the sofa. He wasn't sure now that all of her trembles were generated by his nearness. He breathed on her throat.
"Try to forget it, Dee. Relax. He can't really do anything. If I knew who it was I'd beat him to a pulp." If John hears I've messed with another girl, he won't want me, she thought. How did I get into this terrible mess.
"I'm so glad you're here." she said, softening against him.
"So am I." he blurted. Now he had to comfort her, reassure her. Telephone tormenters liked to pick on single girls, just marrieds. It was a fiendish stunt.
I'm here with her, that's the big thing, he thought, inhaling her fragrance, shaking with quick ardor. He leaned forward and found her lips. Again her arms trail-led around his neck, he felt her shivers. It was real, he wasn't dreaming. Do things to me, she had asked. Wow. He remembered how deeply Nell appreciated his caresses on her big, sloping tits. He remembered how he had kissed Rita's nipples, how he had lusted on Nell's eager, passionate body. But Dee wasn't that kind of girl, either a man-starved old widow or a prostitute. He had to do this right. She was probably a virgin.
As Dee's eager lips spread under John's seeking mouth, as he held her snugly around the waist and shoulders, she wondered why she wasn't heating as swiftly as she had out on the dance floor.
The reason was clear. Carl's horrid call. She had to push it out of her mind. This could be the most important evening of her entire life. How wonderful to be kissed and hugged in the close intimacy of her apartment. John was strong and virile and smart; he wasn't yet rough and hard and calloused, like most of the lumberjacks around Sumpter.
Her lips were learning what to do, now. Of course, she wouldn't remember how she had kissed Terri; she wanted man-kissing, man-touches, man-everything. She felt his right hand open her wrapper; it moved in on her tender tits. Her swollen flesh was responding as it had never responded with Terri; this was right. A man was fondling her tits. Dreamy, cozy.
Now he was driving the fear and uncertainty out of her being; she was turning on. Her nipples were spiking, tingling sweetly. His tongue was pushing into her mouth, her lips were puffy with need, her cunt was beginning to ooze hot, eager juices.
But a girl wasn't supposed to just rest limply and let the man do everything. She had read several articles on it; it wasn't ungirlish for the woman to reach out and touch and caress, also. Her mind pictured vividly what she wanted to do, open his pants and touch his cock, play with it!
I can't, yet, she thought. I'm frozen. It's too new for me. John remembered the casual actions of Rita, the bold moves of Nell Winter, their suggestive remarks. He recalled some of the sex-fantasies he had had about Dee. He would talk to her in a very sexy manner, he would spread her out and kiss her between those long, alluring thighs, right on the pussy. She would take his prick in her mouth and her head would go up and down, as Rita's had moved.
But somehow, he couldn't say the words or do what he really wanted to do. She was a nice girl, he was probably one of her first dates, and even though she had climaxed in his arms at the cocktail lounge, she was still shy, hesitant, backward. With a young, single girl he was inhibited.
What a wonderful pair of firm tits she had. The dark nipples were furiously exciting. Her passion was making her tits push away out; she was shaking and her mouth was clinging hard to his mouth, her fingers were digging into his shoulders, she was breathing faster and faster, and finally she shuddered, her tits lurched forward, her whole body shook, as it had on the dance floor. She was climaxing again!
He wanted to reach down between her legs and cup her pussy. He wanted to explore her whole cunt but right now it wasn't necessary. She moaned, their mouths broke apart, she clutched at him fiercely, her hips lifted.
"Oh, John!" she cried, wildly. "Ohhh God!" Her furious shakes and shivers triggered his own passion. His knob erupted, he was squirting come all over his shorts, the stabs of delight had never been sweeter!
Dee hid her face on his shoulder and gasped through her orgasmic pleasure. She knew she had ungirlishly up-jerked her hips when she came, and now she held herself rigid, hating her shyness, taking her delight in watching his hands on her burning tits.
Ohhhh, it was like those other times, at the lounge, only better. She thought, softening. I heard him moan, too. I guess he must have had a climax, too! Why can't I be reckless and spread my legs and ask him to go down me? I've never seen his cock, he's never touched my pussy. I'm no teenager any more. What's the matter with me? I want to see his white stuff come out. I want his thing in my pussy. I want to take it in my mouth.
Suddenly she heard footfalls on the sidewalk near her front door. A heavy hand struck the door, breaking their closeness. "Ohhh." she gasped, jerking out of John's embrace. John leaped to his feet, she noticed his doubled-over pose, the big cock in his trousers. He ran to the door, unlocked it and rushed outside, cursing under his breath.
Far away a car door slammed, a motor roared. In a moment John returned, closed the panel behind him. He looked pale, angry.
"Somebody's really spooking you, Dee," he said.
"It's awful," she cried. The bulge in his trousers was gone. She saw a spot of wetness, and turned her head away, ashamed.
Why didn't I ask him to stretch me out and push that cock up in my pussy? On my first date I guess I just can't. And that Carl was a big help. Damn him. He's spoiled everything.
"It's not turning out very well, is it?" she said, flushing.
"Not with a tormentor around. Look, why don't you put on some things and come over to my place?"
At that moment another car stopped in front of the apartment. The footfalls this time were entirely different-light, feminine and clicky. A light rapping sounded on the door. Dee felt a sinking sensation. It had to be Terri; Dee knew her habits only too well.
"Come in," Dee said, drawing her wrapper tightly around her figure. She shrugged at John. What else could she do?
"Oh, honey." Terri burst out, entering with a rush. "I tried to call and-Ohhh, well! Am I interrupting something?"
She had just noticed John, and she smiled at him.
"No, I was just leaving," he answered. "I'll call you, Dee."
"John, please-" Dee began.
"I can cut out, kiddies!" Terri said, brightly. "If you really have something good going." She looked John up and down. "Of course, if you can use an extra girl ..."
As usual, Terri was turned out beautifully; she was bold and flirty and very sexy. Her hint about being an extra made Dee blush hotly. John was no dumbbell. Terri's intimate words, before she had noticed John, seemed to linger in the air.
Dee could explain that later. The two girls worked together, they were merely good friends. The evening was so torn apart already, maybe it would be better if John did leave. Dee had to collect her senses. She was terribly confused about a lot of intimate details.
When John was gone, Terri sat down, her mini-skirt halfway to her crotch, her revealing blouse gaping wide to reveal the upper curves of her tits. Obviously, she had had a few highballs.
"You knew I had a date." Dee said, accusingly.
"Slipped my mind completely, honey!" Terri laughed, spreading her nyloned thighs, weaving her bottom against the sofa. "When I get hot panties I think of you, naturally!" She winked. "Did you really get yourself a little, sweetie?"
"No!" Dee flared, blushing furiously.
"All fixed up in a sheer wrapper. Shame on you! If he didn't score, why not?"
"We-this is our first date," Dee said. "Things got kind of turned around and mixed up."
"Honey, your nipples are all out and you've got a satisfied look in the eyes. I'll bet he got your cookies broken!"
"Oh, don't be so filthy about it." Dee cried.
"And there was a big smear on his pants," Terri giggled. "I know. Just like all these young squirts; he squirted too soon."
"Please don't!" Dee cried. "I told you, no more girl stuff."
"Oh, I understand, honey. Every gal has to try the guys, sooner or later." She sighed, leaning back on the cushions, looking very sensual with her legs apart, her tit pushing out, her red hair framing her pretty, almost boyish features.
"If you want to stay a while, okay," Dee said. "But I'm not going to weaken."
"All right, you've had your fun for the evening," Terri pouted. "What about me?"
"You can get dates any time you want them." Dee flared, not so shocked as she might have been. "It's Saturday night. There should be some married men out on the town."
Dee was reminded again of Terri's flippant, rather mechanical interest in the sex function. Wasn't this more like the average man's viewpoint? Cookies broken, indeed. What a disgusting way to describe a woman's climax!
Dee found herself looking at Terri in a new perspective. Wasn't there something almost mannish about her boldness, her dirty words, even her slender-hipped figure? She didn't care much for men, or she would have been married, by now. Well, it took all kinds to make a world.