Chapter 1
It had been almost exactly a year since Lola Todd had thrilled to the hot, stretchy, plunging delight of a male cock in her softly feminine, anniversary of Mike's death, she had gone to Fort Rosecrans to put a pot of flowers on his grave.
In a way, she felt terrible, felt like a sick, weak, perverted fraud. Carrying on about Mike's memory when what she remembered best about him was that he always seemed to have a hard-on. Bless him! He had faults, but he loved sex, everything about it, as far as Lola knew. And she knew plenty.
She opened the well stuffed lingerie drawer of her big chest of drawers. Fumbling among the soft, pretty, slinky things that Mike had loved, but that no man saw, nowadays, she dragged out a fearsome-looking instrument. Because she had come to love it, to depend on it, she hugged it to her naked breasts, holding the softness of one bulbous end to her cheek.
It was cold, so she pressed a tiny switch, then another. Immediately, she felt warmth grow in the long, pink-and-white double dildo, and a very slight vibration. She could barely feel the innate shiver of high-frequency life, mostly because her breasts were still comparatively quiescent, her slowly wanning cunt just beginning to expand and move with its own dark and silent life, up inside her.
Once her trembling pussy had had its jolting cum from the wildly efficient machine, she could lie happily with the life-like imitation buried in her drooling, muscle twitching fuck-sheath, and enjoy a smashing orgasm almost any time she wanted another. Oh, bless you, warm and every-ready friend! And bless warm-hearted, sympathetic Mary Fallon, who had sold it to her!
Impulsively, Lola turned and kissed the amazing object, her lips Open. It tasted as good as it looked. And felt. And why not? When she had put it away this morning, it had been thickly coated with the richly flavored cunt oils from her body, and with the amazingly human fluid, so exactly like semen, that she also purchased from Mary. It tasted so much like Mike's cock juice, looked and felt so much the same, that her heart almost turned over.
"But I'm through living in the past," she said aloud. "Through letting old wounds cripple me. Through trying to be something I'm not."
Standing with her legs apart, knees bent, looking at herself in her big mirror, Lola rubbed her fingers in the soft, thick, wet lips of her pussy. It felt so good! She would get her small bottle of the marvelous and jism-like liquid, fill the life-like balls with it, and then lie down for a good, long lasting, heart warming fuck. First, though, it would be wise to check front and back doors.
Since she had begun to let herself rebuild warm and friendly relations in the neighborhood, some woman friend might come in, unannounced. Here in this friendly little Southern California town of Seabright, things like that could happen.
She loved walking bare-ass naked through her living room. It gave her a feeling of laxness, an exciting and breathless imminence of better things to come, of belonging to herself, of being alive.
And it was such a beautiful afternoon. So warm and sunny. It just made her feel good to be alive. So, why should she feel guilty, ashamed of being a warm blooded woman who loved her softly formed body, her throbbing, juicing cunt?
"You have a right to be happy within yourself. Lola, my dear," she said aloud, feeling the life of the mind joining with the life in her body. Her uncle had said it, years before. Her dearest, sweetest relative. Tom Storick. Strong, slender, broad shouldered, with warm blue eyes under this shaggy brows, a lazy smile on his square, handsome face. She felt a wilder surge of warmth and eagerness in her pussy, just thinking of Uncle Tom.
The front door was latched. No chance of any friendly neighbor coming in that way. The warmth of the still afternoon air seemed to uphold her, getting under her arms where the softly tangled puffs of taffy blonde hair were damply perfumed with summer sweat. How lovely! How Uncle Tom had teased her about her hairlessness, kissing her so warmly in her tenderest spots, reassuring her that she would soon be a voluptuous, sensuous female.
"Not a woman, Lola baby," he would say, gently stroking his tongue between the lips of her soft, quivering little cunt. "But a real, grown up girl, with lovely, abundant hair on your sweet little pussy, under your arms." He had laughed, as he always did when they were together, having their private fun. "Just like your mama. Your mama had cunt hair when she was eleven." Oh, God! How sweet it was to think of her uncle, of his goodness to her, his understanding of what a growing girl needs!
She shivered voluptuously as the marvelous recollection seemed to blossom in her, to run like fire through her mind. "Think of sex, baby," her uncle would whisper to her. "Think of your sweet little cunt, and how it tastes to me, how it looks to me. Think of my cock, going into you. Because some day, when you're just a little older, a little bigger, we'll stick it in. OOOOOOH!" and he would moan. "Just thinking of it is so good!"
And she would twist and moan, too, as he gently sucked between her sturdy little thighs. "Already shaped so beautifully," Uncle Tom would whisper huskily, holding them to his warm cheeks as he moved his tongue up and down the tender, sensitive channel of her sex, looking up to smile at her after she had cum, biting her lips to keep from screaming in her pleasure. Oh, he had been so good! So kind to her! Such a marvelous teacher!
She was eager to get back to the smoothness of her bed, to open her pussy gently with the fingers of her left hand while she put the small end of the two-headed fuck machine into herself. But no, maybe she would try the big end. Greasing it, of course, with the fantastically realistic jism that Mary sold her.
She shivered in expectation. That big end, wow! It was bigger than Mike had been. It reminded her of her Uncle Tom.
Now she was at her back door, stepping out onto the service porch. She loved this old house. So roomy and nice. It had been new, twenty-two years ago, when she and Mike had gotten married, she at nineteen, Mike at twenty-one. Twenty-two years! They made such a difference. The trees, the hedge on the east and west sides of the big lot. "Private as a bedroom," Mike would say laughingly, raising her dress as they lay on the big old redwood chaise. And in the joy of sex, she would squeal and hump her body up and down as Mike gently finger-fucked her, holding one hand on his cock, feeling it swell and throb as she jacked the soft, thick skin up and down the shaft.
And then he would fuck her, slipping his big, hard dick into her, fucking deep and hard, banging into her womb, while she wrapped her strong, smooth legs over his back and fucked up at him like a crazy woman. Crazy for sex.
Right up until the day they had phoned from the plant to say that Mike wouldn't be coming home. Not ever. It had been such a terrible shock. And they wouldn't even let her view his body. Crushed under huge crate of parts as he supervised its unloading.
The dreadful loneliness flashed back, just for a second. She had been trying so hard to remake her life in the semblance of real humanity, as Mike would have wanted. And this artificial cock, so ridiculous in many respects, was a part of her return to herself.
"As I am," she muttered fiercely. "Just as I am. I've got a right to forget unhappiness. I'm entitled."
It was wonderful to stand boldly out in her green back yard, so beautifully naked, with the warm sun kissing her breasts, and no one to spy on her.
"I'm a damn good notion to do it right out here," she said aloud, grinning. "Wow! With that hot sun shining right on my twat, and all that good juice running out of me!"
It was good to have this feeling of being at home. Twenty-two years in this place. Some of her neightbors had been here almost as long. But she and Mike had pioneered it. Larry and Ellen Shelton had moved in, a year later. Right behind them, but lower, because she and Mike had bought the house at the top of the hill. Larry and Ellen had been loads of fun, too, just as earthy and human as she and Mike, until they got into that stupid religion of theirs. She sighed. It was tough on their kids. With them, anything that was any fun was a mortal sin. How pitiful!
She didn't associate with them any more. Or perhaps it would be more like it to say they didn't associate with her. She knew they disapproved of her. For a crazy reason.
"God wants you to mourn," Ellen Shelton had said to Lola in a sour voice, a week after Mike's funeral. "You and Mike have been punished for your sinful ways, and if you think you can get away with it, with not wearing full mourning for at least a year, you'll get your come-uppance! God will punish you again!"
It had been a shock to the warm, friendly Lola. And Ellen was-well, what could you say? She looked so warm and cute and cuddly, the kind of woman of whom Mike had said: "She has the word 'FUCK' written all over her face." Darling Mike! Good, kind, understanding, humorous. She still looked like it, but she had changed. And every day, hearing the dreadful harangues that went on when young Tim, the Sheltons' only kid, had done some minor wrong. How they lashed at him with their bitter tongues. And sometimes, she suspected, with physical beatings.
She shook her head. This was no time to dwell on such sadness. She had her undemanding lover, this long, warm, seemingly alive cock, with two sets of fake balls. Made for two women, Mary Fallon had told her with a fierce grin. "If you can find someone you trust that much, Lola," the older woman had whispered. Truly, a marvelous device! Lola had come to believe that the strange, loveable bit of sexual artistry had feelings of its own. In any case, she loved to kiss it. Maybe today, if she dared put the big end into her pussy, and turn on the heat and vibration to "HIGH", she would suck on the smaller end while she came. Just the thought of it gave her a hard shiver of near-orgasm in her swelling pussy, now beginning to come to its full heat.
It was really a good thing that she created this marvelously raunchy thought in her mind. Otherwise, just thinking of the dreadful diatribes of Ellen Shelton might have buried her in guilt and shame. After all, her mother and father had been as viciously narrow, as sadistically punishing to her, when she was a girl, as the Sheltons were to their young son. In fact, if it had not been for Uncle Tom and his earthiness, his sanity, his deeply moving belief in sex as a gift of God, she, Lola, might have been ruined.
She remembered how she and Uncle Tom would "get naked" as she called it. When her mother made those long, all-day excursions with other members of her church, making "missionary calls" on other folks.
It was so sweet to remember how dear Uncle Tom had showed her exactly how to take hold of a man's cock, how to love it with her soft cheeks, how to take the enormous head into her small mouth.
She thought of him with deep love, all these years afterward, and shivered with the excitement of anticipated sex. Even if it was with a man-made cock, a dildo.
"I always wondered why men called their genitals tools," Mary Fallon had giggled as she helped Lola unwrap the thing. "But now, I know. This is a tool, isn't it? A tool for fucking. Oh, dear!" and the older woman had pretended to be simperingly remorseful, "there I go, using that terrible word again!"
The marvelously realistic cock-a double cock, really-seemed to writhe against Lola's deliciously smooth skin. Her breath had begun to come faster, and she turned to go toward the old redwood chaise where Mike had slipped it to her so many times. There was a flutter of cunt nerves and cunt muscle 'way up her, and the teasing, tickling dribble of her lovely cunt slime oozed out through her hairy lips, and down.
She was aching to slip the warm, strangely alive "too!" into her welcoming cunt when she heard the voice, so near that she almost fainted in shock and surprise. A familiar voice, saying a very unfamiliar thing. But very interesting. Lift your pretty little ass just a bit higher, Alice," the voice said. "Get that cute little cunt of yours up to where I can suck it before I fuck it. Oh, WOW! Geez! That feels so good! Yeah, sure! Suck me a little. Oh, wow! Do it to me, baby! Now, spread your legs so I can get my dick into you!"
With dry mouth and beating heart, Lola edged toward the thin hedge of eugenias at the back of the lot. As it happened, the Sheltons lived there, behind the Todd place. When the developers had graded this hillside location, they had made thy building pads into huge stair steps. The Shelton place was fifteen feet lower than her own back yard, so she and Mike had never worried about a thick cover to screen away the view across the roof of their neighbor's home. There was a six or eight-foot ditch between the two lots, planned to carry away the runoff from winter rains. The voice was coming from that broad ditch as Lola carefully looked for a view point.
It was a marvelous but touching sight she finally discovered.
A kid she had known since he was a bulge under his mama's apron, gladly minded when he was a baby, a toddler, and watched with sympathy as his mother and father slowly turned from warm, earthy human beings into the coldest and harshest of inquisitors.
Tim Shelton.
Thirteen years old. Dark, slender, his fine facial bones showing a gift for life in his full, sensuous mouth. And a deep intelligence always gleaming in his large, bright, knowing eyes. What a good kid! And obviously made bold by lust, to talk in that adult way to a girl.
He had called her "Alice." That had to be little Alice Bond, who lived next door to the Sheltons. Lola shivered with lust, the lust of a sex oriented person who loves everything connected with fucking. Including watching other people fuck. Wow, did she ever love that! Going back to days of long ago, when she and Mike, both so hot and eager, had been among the first in their area to swing a bit. To fuck other people, just for the hell of it. Never on their own, always together, laughing, fucking, sucking, enjoying it, every bit of it, no matter how far out.
But where was Alice? Had she detected some movement on the part of Lola? Had she fled? Certainly, she wasn't where Lola could see her, but she could certainly see young Timmie. Boy, could she ever see him! And then, as the full meaning of what she saw swept over her, the solidly built blonde woman could have wept in sympathy.
The boy was naked. His body was beautiful. His lean, straight legs were wide apart, pelvis thrusting forward. And his cock! God have mercy on me, Lola thought. That cock!
He had his strong, sensitive hand around it, and it was so thick that his middle finger barely met his thumb. It seemed long, but Lola knew from experience that any cock, seen for the first time, seems larger than it is. Even so, it was a beauty.
And young Timmie was jerking off! He was riding that loose, soft, thick skin back, letting a bit more saliva drop from his full lower lip on to the shiny red head, then jerking it forward, then back. It was beautiful, it made Lola's cunt writhe in sudden desire, and it made her want to cry. That poor baby! For there was no girl there.
Only a picture, or rather, a book full of pictures.
The light was perfect, and Lola was only a few feet above where the handsome, intent youth was beating his meat. And he was hidden from anyone except Lola.
She and Mike had not planted a thick hedge at the back of their place. Larry and Ellen Shelton had. The ditch was an easement to carry away water. It was, if not ugly, certainly nothing more than utilitarian. So they planted privet or pittosporum or some such hedge, giving them privacy as far as folks behind them were concerned. Thus, anyone in the ditch-as Tim was-could not be seen from their home. And who would think that the thin, shimmering leaves of the eugenia plants above him would conceal a watcher?
Or a listener?
"Come on, Alice," the boy said boldly. "Get that cute little ass of yours up to me! Wow, it sure tastes good!" He was looking at a crotch shot of a very mature woman, the reddened, juicily high lighted inner lips of a cunt surrounded by light brown hair. As Lola watched, the poor little kid lost in his dream of pretend-lust, turned a page to another picture. Another cunt. Wide open, its slick, clear juice slobbering down through red, curly cunt hairs. And his cock was about to explode.
The boy's hand was moving faster, now. He had the trembling red head of his boyishly hard dick right up to the naturally colored reproduction of man's greatest joy. Lola could hear his hard breathing, almost a moan. Her own cunt, already aroused by recollection, the warmth of the summer air, and anticipation of a good, healthy fuck from her fake prick, seemed to writhe against its own sensitive inner surfaces, and her knees grew suddenly weak with the strain of holding back a weird, wild gut strumming orgasm.
She could not stand it. She was holding the long, warm dildo in both hands. Her flaming cunt cried wordlessly for relief. She was braced against the fence, now, and her breath was as fast, as chokingly hot, as the masturbating boy's.
With a low moan, she pushed the big end of the imitation cock down to her crotch. With her left hand, she held the thick, hairy outer lips open, and, with her right, rubbed the bulbous head of the inanimate cock deep into her oozing crack, rolling it in the thick, slick goo that was pouring out of her. It was a contact that nearly drove her into a craziness of fuck lust, but she pantingly held on, shoving the thing into her, twisting it to pick up more of her natural lubricant, screwing it into herself even as she felt that she was about to blow her nuts, to shoot her hard wad of passion in an orgasm that felt as if it would rip her apart.
She had begun to collapse, hanging on to the wooden fence, feeling her knees turn rubbery and weak. She could dimly hear the boy: "Fuck harder, Alice! OOOOOOH! OOOOOOH! FUCK ME, BABY! WOWEE! THAT'S IT, BABY! OH GOD! SUCK IT WHILE IT'S CUMMING!"
At least Lola thought she heard it. Somehow, she must have hit all the switches on her fucking machine at once, the "ON" switch, the highs for both heat and vibration, even the red buttons marked "EJACULATION". .
She was cumming, of course. In a sense, she had been making all of the small, preliminary twitches and lovely squirmings of pre-cum delight from the moment she had picked up the mechanical prick. She was so hot, so needful, so cock-hungry!
Therefore, as she twisted the bigger of the two ends into her spasming cunt-and she had never dared try the big one before-she began to writhe in one of the fiercest, hardest cums of her lifetime.
And, since she had pressed all the buttons, and the smaller end began to writhe and throb in her hand, shooting its remarkably life-like juice all over her breasts in a hot and sticky burst of opaque white, she blindly took it in her mouth. Away back, clear to her tonsils. Just as she had during all their married years, swallowed Mike's big cock, sucking it, loving it, going berserk over the wholesome, hot, sweetly pungent juice he shot into her throat as his cock exploded.
It seemed to last forever. Actually, once she had pressed the "ejaculation" switches, the fierce shots lasted only ten or twelve seconds, and the cock, so cunningly constructed, made only a half-dozen dry throbs, deep in her relaxed and happy cunt.
"A damn good thing, too," Mary Fallon had told Lola, shuddering with her own hidden delight. "A girl could forget to turn it off, and get fucked to death." And Lola had enjoyed the life-like heat, the squirts of that rich juice which so marvelously imitated that of man and man's balls.
Now, in the hot sun, slowly recovering from the wildness which had been brought on partly by her usual need, partly because of the rare and hot-making sight of the neighbor boy's masturbation, Lola felt her cunt relax, felt the big end of the fake cock slip out. It was followed by the ersatz cum juice, and she slipped her hand down, letting the combination of her own vaginal outpourings and the fake semen ooze out on her fingers. And, with eyes still closed, raising her sopping hand to her mouth, sucking up every last drop.
"They guarantee you can't tell the difference between this stuff and the real thing," Mary had chattered, her eyes bright with lust. "Oh, kid, I wouldn't have even let you see it if I didn't know you needed it. Would you believe it, a shot of this imitation jism is just as wholesome as a man's load? Same amount as the average man's average orgasm. Eighteen calories, just like a man's. Pure protein, just like a cock gives you. And that taste! Wow! The foreman must jerk off into every vat of it-it sure tastes like the real thing!"
As she usually did, Lola felt just the slightest trace of shame. It was hard to get used to the idea that she had a human right to sexual satisfaction. And where, she often wondered, could she find it in this small town and at her age. Without spilling it all to the neighbors.
"Shit," she muttered, using one of Mike's favorite words, "If I brought a man home-if the bottled water man stays to chat for two minutes-my good friends are dead sure I'm making a whore of myself."
She turned and got on her hands and knees, giggling as she looked down and saw the strangely double-headed fuck machine moving gently on the soft turf. "Better turn you off, baby," she said, touching all the switches. "Don't want to run your batteries down.
She thought for a flashing second of the young boy who lived in the house below her. She thought of Mike as he had been at that age. At least, what he had told her.
"Kid like that needs to get fucked so damn bad that hell take on anything that's hot and hollow," Mike had said seriously. "Wonder to me that more teenagers don't get jailed for rape." He had thought for a few seconds, then smiled. "Girls that age don't report boys for raping them. They want it. They expect to get it shoved into their little pussies," he had said mildly, tolerantly. He had been a man of rare understanding. "When you're that young, you run around with a red peter all the time. Never run down, or get enough."
Now, turning off the switches on the electric dildo, she made a little face, half mirth, half sadness. "Timmie never has to go to the store for new batteries," she said, giving the rubbery plastic fuck machine an admonitory shake. "Of course," and she laughed, "he couldn't fuck me in two places at the same time, either."
She was in the house by now, and she carefully wiped the grass off the long instrument. It was a marvelous thing. Just exactly as hard, but just exactly as flexible, as a human dick. Both ends of it. Its reservoirs looked and felt exactly like a man's balls. The sacs were even wrinkled, and somehow, the makers had put hair on them. "All they need is a little sweat and stink," she had said to good old pal Mary, and the dark, wrinkled woman had laughed loud and long. "And maybe a fake asshole to rim with your tongue," she had said, and that had both amused and shocked Lola.
But not too much. Not Lola. But then, she had had the benefit of Uncle Tom, that sweet, smiling, calmly courageous man. "You must learn this while you're young," he had assured her, holding her on his lap, both of them naked, facing his mirror so that she could see her little pink cunt spread open, and his enormous cock, pressing on the inside of her smooth skinned and girlish thigh. "If you like sex, you're alive. And if you don't, you're dead."
"I don't think mom likes it," she had said. "I've heard her and daddy fighting, and I think--well, daddy thinks-she's frigid."
Uncle Tom had laughed quietly, dandling her on his thighs, big hands grasping her buttocks. "I'll guarantee your mom's not frigid." he had said. "Mixed up, maybe. Lost her old fire, or some of it. But just because you have grown to fear sex doesn't mean you aren't interested. I know a woman over in Sunrise Beach who says that inside of every frigid woman, there's a nymphomaniac begging to be let out."
He had rubbed in the drippy pinkness of her sensitive little cunt, making her squeal in a quick flash of orgasm, and asked, as she clung to his cock, "Do you know what a nymphomaniac is, baby?"
The child had turned-the child that had been Lola, and the Lola of today shivered with the warm recollection-turned and put her sweet young face up for Uncle Tom to kiss. She remembered the slick strength of his tongue, and how much it turned her on to be doing this grown up kind of kissing. Her mom was shopping that afternoon, and she and her uncle had the whole house to themselves.
"Sure I know," she had said. "It's what I want to be when I grow up!"