Chapter 10
Randy's apartment was in Daly City, just off the Bayshore Freeway. He told Cathy that it was easier for him to get to the airport from there. He had previously lived on Russian Hill, however. His apartment was simple and masculine and she gathered that he didn't invite many people to it. It wasn't a party pad like the quad apartment in St. Petersburg. There were a lot of models of airplanes, including the L-1011 and the 747. There were also fighter planes on stands, a library of aviation books and many of the classics in philosophy from Plato to Buckminster Fuller. There were books by Ernest K. Gann and Richard Bach, and a book by St. Exupery called Night Flight. On the coffee table were copies of Playboy and Penthouse. Cathy noticed that he also appeared to read Time and Newsweek. She wondered when he had time to read. Pilots always seemed to be flying, either in their own private planes or in the company's.
"What do I smell?" she asked.
"Your supper, my sweet," Randy said with mock gallantry, affecting an accent. "Cooking is one of my hobbies."
"Smells delicious. What is it?"
"Begging your pardon, mademoiselle, but it's a surprise. First we ply you with drink while bragging about our bachelor's pad and our sexual prowess. Then we sit down to the table and I explain the gourmet's secret."
Cathy laughed.
"Actually," Randy said, returning to his normal voice, "it is a simple meal cooked these many hours in a crock pot."
"A crock pot?"
"A crock pot," he said, taking off her coat and hanging it on a rack behind his small wet bar. "That allows me to run my errands and pick up lovely young stewardesses during the day and mix them cocktails. I put the meal inside in the morning and it cooks slow all day at a cost of about three pennies."
"Marvelous!" Cathy said, catching his mood. "You are a fascinating pilot, m'sieu."
"Ah, you speak French."
"Un peu," she said.
"Well, I don't," he laughed. "Name your poison."
"I'll have whatever you're having, Randy."
"Very dry vodka martinis, then. With a Spanish olive and a slice of cucumber."
"Cucumber?"
"Which gives it a fresh frosty taste. Oh, you'll enjoy it, I assure you."
She watched him pour the vodka into a shaker, splash in a few drops of dry Vermouth. He sliced the cucumber and plopped olives speared on tiny plastic swords into the empty glasses. He shook the shaker and poured the martinis.
"Here's to you," he said, handing her a glass and admiring her beauty. Cathy was dressed in a short pleated skirt, knee-length patent leather boots and turtleneck sweater. She wore earrings but no other jewelry. Her soft leather coat had hidden her charms but they were in full evidence now that he had hung it up behind the bar.
She tasted the martini. It was cool and delicious.
"Ummm, nice," she said.
He showed her around the apartment and she commented on his tastes. The furniture was modern for the most part, with a masculine simplicity. His bed was king-sized, the bedroom decorated with paintings of birds in flight, original oils, he told her, collected on his travels across the United States.
They had another martini each before he sat her at the Danish Modern dining table. She begged to help, but he wouldn't hear of. it. "You're my guest and you'll be treated like a queen," he said.
He did show her the crock pot, a three-and-a half quart variety, on the counter in his small but neat kitchen.
The food was delicious: chicken breasts wrapped in bacon, simmered over dried beef and drenched in cream of mushroom and sour cream sauce. The salad was tossed with thick, home-made blue cheese dressing. Broccoli in cheese sauce was the vegetable. Cathy complimented him on his cookery and surprised him by eating two breasts.
"I can't stand girls who eat like birds," he told her. "There's more if you want it."
"No thanks. This is very rich and I'm stuffed."
He put soft music on the stereo and they sat on the couch, afterwards, sipping Schnapps. Cathy felt a glow from the food and the Schnapps. When Randy put a hand on one of her breasts, she turned to him eagerly. He kissed her, then reached for one of her hands. He put it on his lap.
She could feel the lump in his trousers.
"Rub me," he whispered.
She began to move her hand over the hard ball of his genitals, feeling the mass stiffen and straighten out. He reached his hand up underneath her sweater and began to knead one of her breasts. She was glad she had decided to go braless. There was no awkward fumbling and his hand felt good wandering back and forth between her two breasts. Her little nubs of nipples began to harden.
"Take my cock out," he told her.
She unzipped his trousers as he slid down a little to make it easier for her. She reached inside and drew out the hardening muscle. It popped to attention before her eyes as she brought it out of its hiding place. Grasping his cock firmly in her hand she watched it surge to life, climbing out of its coil like some angry cobra. Stiffening and thickening magically.
Randy was removing her skirt, but she hardly paid attention to that. She didn't want to miss a thing regarding the miraculous metamorphosis of his prick. She was sober, though in a mellow enough state, and she wanted to take, advantage of her sobriety to observe, to feel. She didn't want to miss one nuance of this particular sexual encounter.
Her skirt and panties lay on the floor, and Randy's hand began to work on her turtleneck. She raised her arms, allowing him to slip the sweater over her head. His cock hadn't changed in size. When she touched it again, grasping it gently in one hand, the precoital seepings began, leaking out of its mouth like saliva. She dabbled her index finger in the juice and smeared it over the mushroomed head of his cock. She delighted in the sheer bulk of his organ. She squeezed it and rubbed it up and down, feeling it pulse like a heart in her hand.
Randy admired the strawberry crowns of her breasts. "I hope you're going to lick my prick," he said, just before flicking a tongue over the nipple of one of her breasts.
"Oh, yes, I'm going to do that and more," she said.
"You sound very experienced tonight."
"I'm getting that way."
"Oh?"
"With you," she said, knowing what he meant. "There's been no one out here, Randy."
"I'm surprised."
"Why? Do you think I'm promiscuous?"
He looked at her tenderly.
"No, I just think you're eager to learn now that certain barriers have been lowered. I think you're perfect."
"Thanks, Randy," she said, lowering her head gracefully to plant a kiss on the tip of his meat.
Randy sucked in his breath as her mouth made contact with his cock's head. He watched her, fascinated, as she twirled her tongue around the crown, shivered as it went down the length of his organ, then licked back up, slow as a cat's tongue rubbing over fur. She looked so young, so fresh and innocent. There was something about a young girl going down on your joint, he thought, that made them all look like virginal serving-girls, love-slaves to a depraved Roman. What was the legend above the Forum? S.P.Q.R. Senatus Populusque Romanum, meaning: the Senate and Roman People. The Italians had another translation, however. It had probably been the same in Ceasar's day: Sono porci questi Romani, "these Romans are pigs." That's what he felt like every time a girl sucked him off. He liked it, but he couldn't help feeling that he was somehow being a male chauvinist pig. In Cathy's case, he felt doubly guilty, because she couldn't have done this more than two or three times in her life. Well, he would see to it that she was well rewarded for her role in this evening's sexual merriment. As she licked him, he thought that she would someday be a superior fellatrice. She obviously was enjoying herself, even though she couldn't be enjoying it as much as if she were being tongued in her pussy at the same time.
He liked the idea of being fully dressed while she was naked. This added to his enjoyment of the act of fellatio. Her back was so smooth and graceful, the backbone sticking out just so, back flaring at her hips, her buttocks as inviting as Callipygia's must have been in ancient times. He could no longer kiss her perky breasts, but he could fondle them, tease their nipples with his hands. And he did that. He didn't want this to be all one-sided.
Cathy was enjoying herself. Randy's cock was a living being to her, a small eyeless creature that she possessed all to herself. She held it fondly in her hands as a priest would hold a chalice. Her lips closed around its tubular mass with loving care. His prick was a magic flute to play upon, the music soundless, felt more than heard, pouring through her throat as she slid it in and out of her suckling mouth. She drooled over his cock, soaking it with her saliva until it gleamed in the light like a mystic scepter studded with millions of tiny diamonds. The more she sucked, the more exciting it became. There was something exquisitely sensual about sliding that swollen organ down her throat, teasing it, shaping it like one would an ice cream cone. Contrary to Randy's belief, Cathy was enjoying herself—immensely. In her loins, the heat simmered, the juices flowed inside her pulsating pussy, the nipples on her breasts strained with desire and the pounding of blood brought to the surface by the pilot's tweaking fingers made her weak with ecstasy.
Cathy stopped her slurping for a moment as an idea popped into her head. She wanted Randy to be pleased with her performance. She was deriving so much pleasure from sucking him it almost seemed sinful. Pulling so hard on his prick that her cheeks sank, she loosed her mouth's hold on it and quickly filled it with Schnapps. Before Randy realized what was happening, she had immersed his cock in the bowl of her mouth. She wallowed the organ's head around in the minty juices, let it run in rivulets down his shaft.
Randy very nearly shot his wad right then. The soothing Schnapps quickly turned to warmth, with Cathy's tongue whipping the sensitive nerve ends of his joint, rimming the flared edge of the cap until his balls reached the boiling point. He grabbed her head then, and jammed down hard, losing all thought of her. He rammed his cock down her throat until it touched her tonsils, and Cathy choked with the suddenness of the massive organ shutting off her air. Realizing what he had done, he released her. She spewed him out, tears welling up in her eyes.
"I'm sorry, Cathy. That felt so goddamned good! Christ, you know how to give a man a blowjob!"
"Is that what it's called?"
"Call it what you like, when you dabbed my cock in Schnapps, I almost flipped my cookies. Maybe we'd better just fuck. I'll get out of these clothes."
"No, Randy," she pleaded. "I want to make you come this way. I want to see it. I want to taste it."
"Then let me eat you, too. Would you like that?"
"I'd love it," she said, her blue eyes going cloudy.
Quickly, he took his clothes off. They both lay on the floor, on the thick pile rug.
He rose over her face, his cock still semihard, his face above the fallow V of her cunt. She spread her legs wide and drew his cock closer to her mouth with her fingers. She took the plumlike head of it, purple from the rush and ebb of blood, and sucked it while stroking the length to bring the organ back up to its former strength and size. She almost bit into it when she felt Randy's tongue delve between the lips of her pussy. It felt like some strange worm wriggling into her cunt.
"You'll have me coming in no time," he told her between slurps of her pussy. "Just keep swallowing my prick like that. I'll tell you when so you can get ready."
"Ummm arrrgh," Cathy managed, not willing to turn loose his rod in order to answer him coherently.
They needed no further words.
Randy buried his nose in Cathy's muff, his tongue deftly spearing into her "little man in the boat," teasing forth the slender tuber that was like a trigger to Cathy's lust. He tickled and twanged the little tingle toy until her cavern flooded with fluids. It stiffened to a needle as his tongue ravaged it mercilessly. She spread her legs wide, allowing him deeper penetration. He took the tip of her clit in between his lips and sucked on it as if it were a lollipop.
Cathy knew she could make Randy come. Her own orgasms were skyrocketing her to heights of ecstasy. Her body began to buck with the force of her climaxes. She pulled on Randy's cock with her mouth, drawing it deep into her steaming throat, her mouth tight around it. He was fucking her face with a fury, the seeds boiling in his ball bag. Cathy wanted to see him spurt. When she felt he was close, she pushed him back up, so that only the tip of his cock remained in her mouth. There, she drew on it as one would a cigar, her tongue flicking frantically all the while. She felt his body grow taut and knew he was going to fountain.
She pushed him out of her, quickly, and was rewarded with a foaming splashing spectacle of sperm shooting out of the slit in his cock. It flashed all over her face in warm gouts. Quickly, she pulled him back down and lapped at the spurting come, gobbling it down as fast as it came. She felt the warm sperm flow down the walls of her throat. "This," she thought, "is life itself, the secret of the universe, the mystery of sex and human propagation." She was glad she had sucked Randy off, seen the jets of jism so close and swallowed his life force. She felt whole and completed.
Randy took his head from her muff and looked at her.
"You were wonderful," he said. "You did it like only a real woman can."
"It was very exciting, Randy," she replied. "You're quite a man."
He took her into the bedroom after that. They lay in each other's arms for a long time, locked in the wonder of each other.
Cathy's thoughts roamed over the tiny universe of sex that she had come to know. She thought, too, of her brother Bill probably balling Linda at that very moment. She had never thought of him in a sexual sense, but now she did. She knew Linda's capabilities and she knew Bill would be satisfied. As for his prowess, she knew nothing. She wondered if Linda would tell her. Somehow, the thought was wickedly delicious.
She felt sure of herself. She knew at that moment that she was a woman. And being a woman, she knew she possessed a power that was awesome. She had made her man come with just her mouth and throat. This was the third or fourth time and she knew it had been no fluke before. She exulted in being a woman. She wanted Randy to fuck her all night long.