Chapter 2
The lodge was one of those boringly modern examples of overpriced architecture, a sort of Howard Johnson's meets Burger King. Everywhere Janet and Marci looked, they saw colored plastic furniture, synthetic carpets, outdoor-art-fair paintings, and chrome. Acres of chrome.
The man at the desk, Janet was quick to note, was a swishy middle aged queen, just beginning to bald. He had pinky rings on both hands. Christ, she thought to herself, I wonder what he does here.
Alpine Village did have a reputation of being the most likely swinging singles resort in the area. A lot of Marci's and Janet's friends swore by it, and some of the descriptions had been quite elaborate. Best of all—or so it seemed to Janet-was the much-repeated rumor that the place had a three-to-one ratio of men to women—and that the men, either by choice or necessity, often dug group scenes, with as many as eight or nine sharing one hot honey for the night.
Janet had never really been able to get enough of sex, not since that first time in the furnace room of her Aunt Bea's Indianapolis apartment building. She had been only thirteen, but already pretty well-stacked for her age. Tony, the superintendent's son, was fifteen, and he was pretty well-built for his age, too.
Janet had been noticing him around the building for almost a year. He was kind of a quiet guy and stayed to himself a lot. Very seldom did she notice him out playing ball or shooting the shit with the rest of the kids in the park. More and more, Janet had begun to wonder what exactly he did with his time, and where he spent it.
Almost by chance one afternoon she found out. Her Aunt Bea had gone shopping and had left Janet, who was home on summer vacation, to do the laundry. After putting the second load in, Janet heard a kind of quiet moaning coming from around the corner. More and more curious—especially when it didn't stop, but instead grew louder and louder and more and more frantic—she finally went to explore.
She found Tony in the furnace room, back behind the boiler itself, lying back against the wall on a stack of old newspapers, pulling on his long brown cock. She had seen pictures of men's penises before, in her health book at school, but they never looked anything like this. Those cocks in the books were little and pink, and the skin didn't go back and forth over the end of them the way Tony's did as he pulled.
"Holy smokes!" Janet had exclaimed excitedly as she watched. Tony had jumped up in great embarrassment and had tried to pull up his jeans and jam his still throbbing cock inside them, all in one motion.
"Oh, don't!" Janet had squealed, and almost mechanically she found herself rushing to Tony, dropping to her knees on the floor, and taking the big young dick into her eager, knowing mouth.
To this day, Janet had no idea how her mouth could have been so eager and knowing. But it was, she smiled to herself as she filled out the card at the ski resort desk, amazed that she could continue such a heavy fantasy in the present-day reality as well.
Soon enough, she was back into the reality of that remembered first suck. Tony's virgin cock had leapt eagerly into her hungry lips as soon as he was aware that she meant business. He came quickly that first time, and the salty juice that shot from the end of his hot dick was too much for her little mouth to contain, spilling out one side and running down her throat.
Tony had evidently imagined that that would be all, but Janet had not been about to stop. She let the now semi-rigid cock slip from her mouth and immediately began to work her lips and tongue around his throbbing young balls. It took practically no time for her to get him worked up again, and it seemed to Janet that Tony's second erection was at least half-again as large as his first.
This time as he rammed his meat into her mouth, the young Puerto Rican was more in control of what he was doing. He told her how to move her tongue inside his foreskin around the burning tip of his dick, and how to slow down, speed up, slow down. At last, he couldn't hold back any longer, and this time he let out a scream as he came that Janet was convinced could be heard all the way to the ninth floor had her Aunt Bea been home.
As it had happened, the scream did not go unnoticed. Just as Janet had licked the last few drops of come off of Tony's dick, the two of them looked up to see Tony's father Jose standing in the door of the furnace room.
As fascinated as Janet had been by the piece in his pants that had so attracted her to Tony, she was doubly so by the giant slab in the man's overalls. Tony had at first appeared embarrassed to have been discovered getting his cock sucked, but when he saw the state of advanced excitement his father was in, he knew it didn't really matter. "Holy mother!" the superintendent of her aunt's apartment building exclaimed, then went into a long list of what Janet assumed were very dirty expletives in His native tongue. In a flash, the stocky Puerto Rican bounded across the room and unbuttoned his fly.
When his cock leapt into sight, the young girl's heart almost stopped. The prick was so round and large that she realized she would barely be able to get her lips around the very tip of it, which she quickly proceeded to do.
"Oh, yes, mira!" the good-looking Latino squealed, trying to thrust the tip of his hot rod deeper into the trembling youngster's throat. "Oh, baby, take eet, take eet!"
But try as she would, Janet had not been able to get her little mouth around more than the very tip of the super's cock. She moved her little tongue quickly over the head, licking at the foreskin as she had learned just minutes before from Tony, but the motion only seemed to drive the man wilder and wilder without really giving him proper satisfaction.
While his father took his cock in his hand and began to jack it off into the girl's face, Tony began rubbing Janet's cunt through her panties until they were soaking wet. He then grabbed at them and yanked them down to her knees. His soft brownish face, covered with the peach fuzz of a new beard, then moved up her thighs and into her pubic area.
Janet had then begun to feel things she had never imagined possible.
Things happened inside her. Her blood ran hot and cold, and her thighs and stomach felt as if they were being stuck with a hundred tiny needles. Then she felt the boy's tongue begin licking at the lips of her honey pot, then actually slip inside and move around.
"Oh, oh, oh, oh!" she remembered screaming over and over again.
The father, unable to control himself any longer, had then thrown her down onto the stack of newspapers and quickly jammed the whole length of his giant cock into her tight virgin cunt. Janet had swooned from the pain, but in a way she had never forgotten the pleasure that was mixed with that pain. Later she had wondered how many times the horny Latin man and his son had fucked her that day. She awoke two hours later, lying alone on the newspapers, her sore thighs covered with dried blood and come.
Her Aunt Bea had been frantic when Janet got back to the apartment. She had been back from shopping for a half an hour and had searched the whole building for the missing girl—looking everywhere except the furnace room. And as soon as she saw Janet, somehow her aunt knew exactly what had been going on.
Aunt Bea was a Baptist, a kind of Holy-Roller of sorts, and she prayed over Janet's lost virginity for three straight days. After that she would never leave the girl alone or let her go anywhere—even to the grocery store or to the school bus—alone. Two years later, when boys began asking her out on dates, Aunt Bea categorically refused to let her go. At sixteen, Janet fled home with the few dollars she had managed to save, and took a bus to Louisville, where she managed to work her way through beautician's school. She had been at the same large run-of-the-mill beauty salon there on Eastern Parkway for four years now, the same one where Marci worked as well.
Through the years, Janet had never forgotten the painful thrill of that first thrust into her tender young pussy. No man had ever equaled Tony's father in size, and she never got over the terror and delight she had felt just as she passed out that first time. Moreover, Janet had always been convinced that some part of her remembered being fucked and fucked and fucked again by the boy and his father, even though she was unconscious. Often even today, she would wake up dreaming about it, remembering the size, the pain, the wild abandonment of that first fantastic scene.
"Miss, you must sign on this line!" The whiney voice that was almost a lisp brought Janet back to the present moment. She was standing in front of the desk at the Alpine Village ski resort once more, not being fucked in the basement furnace room back in Indianapolis. And the man before her was not Tony or his superstud father, but the swishy little desk clerk.
She signed the registry quickly and looked around for Marci, who was buying candy at a nearby concession stand from a pimply boy of about sixteen who was looking her up and down and licking his lips in nervous excitement.
"Marci!" Janet called with some irritation. "What are you up to now?"
The pudgier of the two women hurried back across the lobby. "Oh, nothing," she giggled. "That was Homer. He gave me three Reese's Peanut Butter Cups for the price of two. Can you imagine that?"
"And how," Janet groaned.
The bellboy was a not unattractive young man in his early twenties.
He had shiny black shoulder-length hair and a matching moustache. Janet quickly checked out his basket and decided it would do quite nicely. Now if she could only get rid of Marci.
"Holy shit, I forgot cigarettes!" she exclaimed just as the elevator car reached the fourth floor. "Marci, honey, would you be a dear?"
Eager, perhaps, to get back to her pimply-faced admirer, Marci readily complied, staying in the car and taking it back to the lobby. Janet and the bellboy headed quietly down the hall.
"Just put them here," Janet said when they got inside the room, trying to make her voice sound casual and coquettish like Marci. The young man smiled, put the bags down, and started to head for the door, not even waiting for a tip.
Janet glanced quickly around the room and noticed that the heat control was on the wall directly behind one of the large double beds. "Oh, sir," she called to the bellboy who was now almost ready to turn the doorknob and leave, "could you tell me where the heat control is?"
The bellboy smiled knowingly and walked down the hallway back into the room. "Right over here," he said softly, walking behind the bed.
Janet followed him, pressing her snuggly sweatered tits into his back so that there could be no mistake about what she wanted. Her hand reached feverishly for the bulge in his uniform.
"Ahhh, shit, honey," the bellboy said, obviously struggling with his own excitement. "We can get fired for fooling around with the guests. No shit. I just can't chance it."
But Janet was already tugging at the zipper of his pants. Her hand reached inside and found his jockey shorts already damp with excitement.
"Oh, baby, you're so big," she cooed, though in fact she'd seen, not counting Jose's, a lot bigger, even on bellboys. But she was hot to have that cock, no matter how small it might be, and it was after all a good seven-and-a-half inches, which is nothing to be sneezed at if a guy knows how to use it.
Her lips slipped moistly around the man's circumcised joint, and he moaned as she enveloped his manhood with her moistness. "Oh, shit, no, stop!" he begged, but at the same time he began pumping frantically into her face.
"Shit, shit, shit!" he yelled, getting more and more excited. Then something seemed to come over the man, and he went even more wild than before. "Take that, you cunt, you slut, you bitch!" he yelled as he began slapping her face, still pumping dick into her mouth all the while. "You worthless god-damn piece of-" he stammered just as the two heard Marci's key in the lock.
The bellboy pulled his cock out quickly and fumbled for his trousers.
"But wait, mister," Janet called out, still on her knees. "I didn't get your tip."
"The hell you didn't!" the man exclaimed, dashing past the amazed Marci and bolting out the door.
"You always come back at the damnedest times," muttered Janet, as Marci collapsed into an overstuffed chair giggling. "Couldn't you at least have given pimple-face a blow-job behind the counter or something?"
"Don't knock it," Marci managed between giggles. "Look what he gave me, a whole carton of Kents."
Janet groaned. It wasn't even her brand.
Deciding to hold off on skiing until the next morning, Janet and Marci spent most of the afternoon lounging around the room, reading movie magazines and Playgirl.
"Do you think this is really a fag magazine?" Janet asked Marci, who merely shrugged. "I guess it doesn't matter," Janet continued, grooving on the sight of semi-erect cocks on the good-looking studs that filled the pages. "They still turn me on."
"Oh, anything turns you on," smiled Marci squirming sexily on the bed.
Janet gave her a long hard look. She wondered for the hundredth time if Marci's sexiness was just natural-something that happened without her control-or whether it was something she turned on whenever she felt the urge. And, as she had wondered so often before, Janet wondered if Marci therefore was feeling the urge now, with her.
Janet had only had one lesbian experience in her life, during that period back in Indianapolis when her Aunt Bea wouldn't let her go out with boys. She hadn't really enjoyed it much, especially after the other girl (who had lived down the hall and was a bit plumpish, like Marci) had gotten a real crush on her and declared her undying love for Janet. When she jilted the girl, her friend threatened to go to Aunt Bea and tell her everything, which threw Janet into absolute panic. That would have been all she needed-Aunt Bea really would have sent her to solitary confinement, probably in some nut house, if that had happened. So Janet had told the girl quite simply that she would kill her if she went to Aunt Bea, and evidently the deadly serious tone in which she delivered the threat put the fear of God into her friend, and Aunt Bea never found out.
Janet did wonder about Marci, though, and at times she was even curious as to what it would be like to make it with that sexy little piece. Maybe that way she'd find out what all the guys saw in Marci that turned them on so. She had a hunch that it had something to do with the fact that she was so sweet and submissive and overly "feminine." Janet had to admit that she did get off on ordering Marci around, making her do all the shit work, even pushing her around. And this bossiness did sometimes make her feel downright sexy.
Marci was hot in bed, of that much Janet was pretty sure. Not that Marci ever talked about it, and Janet had never seen her in action (the way Marci had almost just seen her with the bellboy). No, Marci was very private about her sex life, but Janet was still convinced that she was hot and could really throw a mean fuck. You could tell by the way she walked and moved. And there had to be some reason that all those men flocked around her constantly, like around a dog in heat.
Just for the hell of it, Janet pulled off her skirt and sweater and stretched back on the bed in only her flimsy bra and panties. "Oh, shit," she cooed nonchalantly, but making sure that Marci was taking everything in, "I am so fucking horny."
The air was tense with excitement. Janet could feel Marci watching everything she did, but she still couldn't read the expression on her face, whether it was shock or a growing interest.
What the fuck, Janet thought to herself. "So-oo-oo horny," she repeated, and she reached down with the fingers of her right hand and began to fondle her moist pussy.
Once she'd started Janet couldn't stop. It no longer mattered to her whether Marci joined her or not. Janet had to come, had to reach a hot climax, and fast. Her fingers were now inside the lips of her cunts, toying with her clitoris, faster, faster, faster.
Marci still sat on the other bed, watching in amazement. She stood and moved slowly across the room until she was at the edge of Janet's bed. "Oh, yes, honey, do it good. Make yourself feel real good," she whispered softly.
Just as Marci raised a trembling hand towards Janet's own rapidly moving fingers and thighs, the doorbell to the room sounded loudly.
"Oh, hell!" Janet moaned, her fingers slipping limply from her red, throbbing opening. Tears in her eyes, Marci rose and slinked slowly over to the door, opening it only slightly.
"I think I gave you the wrong kind of cigarettes," said the pimply boy from the concession stand downstairs, his piece growing stiff in his corduroys on seeing Marci standing in her underwear in the doorway. "I mean—er—ah—why shouldn't your cigarette be True?"
Thrusting a new carton of cigarettes into Marci's trembling hands, the boy fled down the hall.