Chapter 6
The next morning, Marcia and I chased everybody out of the house and checked on Daniel. When we took the gag out of his mouth, he started cursing and he didn't stop until the gag was replaced.
"What are we gonna do about him?" I said to Marcia.
"Shall we kill him?" she asked.
Daniel took notice of this, his eyes growing wider and wider as he contemplated her words, his body lying there in the cramped bathroom. I wasn't sure whether Marcia was serious or not. She was batty, that I knew. But I didn't believe she really wanted to kill her husband.
"How do you want to do it?" I said to her.
She moved close to me, untying her housecoat and pulling it open. Her smooth body slid against mine, her tits flattening against my chest. I looked down at Daniel; he was taking it all in.
"I was hoping you'd take care of it," Marcia murmured, her tongue flicking into my ear.
"We'll talk about it," I said, more for her husband's ears than hers; I wanted him to sweat a little.
Well, we didn't talk about it. Marcia fixed me breakfast, and then I untied her hubby. I went out shortly after that, wanting to pick up some bells and a few body shirts. I was back in about an hour, and Marcia was alone.
"Where is he?" I said.
She turned, and I saw a huge welt on the side of her face. It was an ugly mark, and it would become worse before it looked any better.
"What happened?" I said.
"He just belted me and rushed out," she said. "He looked like he had dropped most of his marbles in the toilet bowl and flushed them away. I'm afraid, Paul...."
I didn't see where Daniel posed much of a threat to us. I figured his outburst as a one-time thing, the unfortunate result of his weak ego.
"Don't worry your empty, bruised head about it," I told her. "I can handle him. He won't mess with me. He's a coward, you know that."
"Yes, but I think you're forgetting that he's beginning to feel a bit desperate. He didn't bargain for any of this, you know. He can make trouble.
"What trouble I He can't bring us to court in any way. He'd have to admit that he picked me up on the street and brought me home to his wife as a present of sorts. Now what kind of case can he build on that kind of testimony?"
"Well...."
"I told you, don't worry about him. I can handle him, no sweat."
"All right."
"Now, gimme a kiss....
She came into my arms and I let my tongue slide around inside her mouth. My dick began to swell, the head of it feeling extra-sensitive. It would be a good day for fucking. But first....
"Listen, I need some bread," I said. "I gotta pay a guy for the grass we smoked."
"How much do you need?"
"A hundred."
"What? I don't have that kind of money around the house. I can only give you fifty."
"If you can give me fifty, you can give me a hundred, and you know it. Now, let's have it...."
I gave her a few pecks on the cheek, letting my hand drop to her pussy. I rubbed my palm over her clitoris, and her body tensed. God, but she was an uptight chick. The only way she could unwind was in bed.
"Don't fight me," I said softly.
She went into her bedroom, then padded into Daniel's den, or whatever it was called. He sold insurance, and he had set this small room aside for hustling his garbage. There were photographs on the wall of him receiving plaques from guys who looked just like him. It was gruesome.....
"Here," Marcia said when she returned, five twenty-dollar bills lying in the palm of her outstretched hand. "I hope this is enough," I folded the bills and stuffed them in the front pocket of my pants, which I then removed.
"You're terrible," she grinned, shucking off this silk housecoat she wore. "Awful!"
My dick sprang free, bulging and ready to take care of business. She slipped to her knees, her fingers toying with my dick, her mouth moving closer.
"Go ahead, suck it!" I moaned, wanting very badly to feel those soft, wet lips slide over the tip of my prick, her tongue teasing the shaft.
"Ooooooo, you're so big today," she said, squeezing it as she ran her hands over it. She cupped my balls in her palm, lifting them delicately. "Mmmmm, and full of life, too...."
I shoved my hands into that mass of red hair and pulled her lips onto me. She giggled and opened wide. I stuffed half of it into her mouth, jamming it in hard, and her lips closed, her teeth scraping over it as she sucked me. I loved seeing her on her knees before me; she was such a damn good cock-sucker. No man could ask for more in a woman. She was sexy, teasing, insatiable, wild....
"That's it, baby," I murmured as her mouth, worked over me, easing along my dick until she could take no more, then closing down as she pulled her lips out to the head.
I was in ecstasy. The room seemed to vibrate, and I spread my feet wide and let her do her thing. She was marvelous, a pro. She knew how to drive me up the wall. And then, when I thought I would have to push her away because I couldn't stand the sensation any longer, she started sucking harder, her tongue twisting over my prick, demanding, almost imploring.
"Ohhhh, wow!" I groaned, feeling my knees grow very weak. I wanted to get off my feet, but she had her hands behind my legs and I couldn't move. And then my dick began to throb, and the come started jetting from me, filling her mouth, spilling over her lips down on Daniel's burnt-orange deep-pile rug. That chick made my toes curl, I tell you!
She took the initial spurts, and it felt as though someone had hit me over the head with a pipe. I pitched forward, but she didn't let me lose my balance; she wasn't finished with me yet. The intensity of it all was heightened by the knowledge that as I came in her mouth, she was coming too. Never knew a chick who could experience orgasm as easily as Marcia....
"Unnnnnnhhhhh! YeahhhhhhhF She groaned when the first volley had passed. "Ooooooo ... oooooooo...."
The come was still shooting out of me, the spurts growing smaller, but it seemed that when I was dry, she was able to draw a few last jerks from me. And then I leaned forward, my hands on her shoulders, my body sweating freely.
I don't remember hearing the door open. I do remember hearing Daniel's voice.
"You bastard I I'll fix you now!"
He had his hand inside the side pocket of his coat, and when he withdrew it, there was a gun in it. The gun was pointed at me. An unexpected development!
Marcia screamed, and he fired. The bullet hit the ceiling over our heads. Obviously, he didn't have the faintest idea what he was doing. But I figured it wouldn't take him too many shots to correct his errors enough to hit a man fifteen paces away. So I rushed him....
"Paul!" Marcia yelled, and the gun went off again, a moment before I got to him.
We went down in a heap, my arm seeming as if it had been ripped off at the elbow. Daniel's skull hit the door, and he tried to shake the impact off, blinking his eyes and twitching his head. The gun was still in his hand, and I grabbed it, yanking at it with my good arm, my right one.
"You bastard!" he grunted, and for a moment I thought I was dead. The barrel was pointed directly at my chest. But there was no explosion; his finger had slipped off the trigger.
I pulled the gun away from him and cracked him over the head with the butt. He put up his arms, trying to protect himself, and I rapped him right in the balls. He screeched, his face contorting, his hands dropping down to protect himself, and I flailed away at his head. Marcia got him off me....
"You wanna kill him!" she cried. "Look at him; he's bleeding like a pig!"
It was true; he was covered with blood. I thought guys bled like that only in the movies. Then I looked down at my arm, and I didn't feel sorry for Daniel. The bullet had hit me in the forearm, ripping out the flesh. The left side of my upper body was numb.
"You gotta get to a doctor," Marcia soothed. "I'll call one...."
"No! You'll get the cops down on us!"
"This man's an old friend of mine. There's no danger. Help me pull Daniel away from the door...."
We put some newspapers down on the floor and laid him out. Marcia wrapped my arm in a pillow case. The doc came in a hurry, and he did a good job. When I was fixed up, he took me aside. He was a tall, gray-haired guy, bearded, and he really seemed together.
"I don't know what happened here," he said, "but I can guess. I think you'd better get out of here and stay out. You're not going to get in any trouble if you do...."
"I'm not going to get in any trouble!" I said increduously. "He shot me! How does that put me in hot water?"
"Listen, why do you want to make a hassle for yourself?" he said quietly. "You're hurt badly. Just leave...."
"Okay," I said. I walked over to Marcia. "I need money; your friend says I got to get...."
She went without a word back into the den, and when she came back, she handed me another hundred. "Now get out!" she hissed. "Get out before I shoot you myself...."
I went. To hell with them, the nitwits. I walked over to Randy's, but for some reason the door was locked and nobody answered my knocks. I beat on that damn door like a maniac, incensed that no one was there when I needed help.
"Fuck you!" I said, giving the door one last kick. "Fuck you all!" I'm cuttin' out of this damn city!"
I ran down the steps out into the hot street. Lord, but it was blazing, the sidewalk a skillet.
Where? I thought. Where the hell am I gonna go?
I pulled the money out and counted it, flipping the edges of the bills with the fingers of my right hand like a hustler. My left arm was useless; it hung down like an empty sleeve.
And then I knew where I was heading; to the West Coast. Yeah, I was gonna act out the dreams of every ail-American dropout. Out to the California forests, the sea, the land of sun and gun. But what the hell, there was no place else to go that I knew of.
I had left my clothes at Marcia's, and that angered me. But I was damned if I was gonna go back and get them, scratching for rags like a beggar. I took the subway to 42nd Street and walked over to the Port Authority.
The idea of leaving New York, passing all those sad peasants pushing along the broiling streets, was beautiful. I bought a one-way bus ticket, and I was off! I caught the bus as it was pulling out of the station, the driver kind enough to pull up and open the doors. Most of them leave you breathing monoxide.
The trip was an agony. The doc had given me some pills for the pain, but they didn't do too much for me. They gave me a headache, but that was about all.
"Are you all right?" a voice came to me just outside of Memphis.
It was midnight, and we were whizzing along at ninety. I turned toward the voice and saw two eyes staring at me in the dimness, like headlights. She was small, and she looked concerned. I had been writhing somewhat, more than usual.
"I'd be better if you'd come over here and sit next to me," I said, giving her my most congenial smile. I wanted company. I was tired of suffering in silence.
She slid next to me, asking why I was in such pain. I sketched in selected details of my accident, avoiding the more lurid ones.
"Wow!" she murmured. "You're really racing along, ain't you?"
I wasn't sure what she meant by that, but it sounded good. It also sounded like it came to her in a pot-induced state. I asked her if she had any grass on her.
"Ssssssh!" she whispered. And then: "Yeah, I got a little. Next stop, I'll give you some. Go round the back of the restaurant...."
We talked about nothing for about an hour, and I found that I didn't like her. She was harmless enough, and sincere; just empty-headed.
"Here we are," she said, whispering again, as we pulled into one of those desolate outposts called rest stops. "Now, I'll go 'round the back first, then you follow me. But make sure no one follows you...."
I got the feeling she had smoked her first joint just before she boarded the bus. But as long as she was willing to share what she had, I was happy. The bus hissed to a stop, and we climbed off. I felt like Gunga Din, trailing my arm behind me.
"Okay," the girl, who said her name was Patricia, not Pat, whispered. I thought I'd call her Whispering Patricia, Samaritan for the Uptight.
She hot-footed it around the back of the restaurant, and sure enough, I followed after her, like she had me on a long leash.
"Anybody see you?" she asked me in her familiar manner.
"Not a soul, chief."
"Good . ... "
And then that little girl pulled a bag of smoke out and rolled us two reefers in the time it took for me to say this sentence. She was super-quick, and she opened my eyes. The grass opened the portholes in my brain.
"How is it?" she asked just before we came out from beneath our rock.
"Like you; outta sight!" I grinned, and she giggled.
We got back on the bus and the remainder of the trip was much more pleasant. She kept me high all the way, planning and executing well-laid plans designed to keep us on outside of the penal system's fortresses.
"Where you going out here?" she said.
"To hell, baby. To hell...."
"No, really," she giggled. "Where you goin'?"
"I told you; to hell! Look at me! I'm shot, I'm high, I'm in the middle of the desert! That means I'm going to hell, baby. Oh Lord, sweet hell--"
She appraised me for a moment. "Well, since you're headed in my direction, why don't you stop off at my place for a while?" she said. "My sister's got a place in Berkeley. I think she'll be glad to make your acquaintance."
"How old is your sister?"
"Twenty."
"Good-looking?"
Old Patrica thereupon reached into her bag, a grimy thing that hung from her shoulder by a thread, and pulled out a cheap photo of her sister. The chick was dazzling, even in a lousy picture. She had a great body, really well developed it appeared in my opinion, and her hair was long and brown, Patrica told me. Her face wore a pouting, sexy look
"Show me the way, child" I said. "Lead me...."
We spent the rest of the trip shooting the breeze, as my dad was fond of calling it. He was a very creative person; he picked his nose very imaginatively. When we finally arrived in Berkeley, my arm was a lot better. Patrica changed the bandage every day, washing it and applying a salve we picked up in a restaurant.
"Let's get a cab," she said after we had debarked from the bus.
We shot over to her sister's joint, which was very fine indeed; not too far from the sea, nestled among sand and surf. I guessed Whispering Patricia, Samaritan of the Uptight, was not uptight about anything worldly. Her old man must've been chairman of the board at Success, Inc.
"Come on in," she chirped, and in I went. Her sister came out of the kitchen, and I could see by the bikini she wore that she wasn't wearing much. Her curves were luscious, undulating softness.
"Well, well, Patrica love," I said. "You weren't the little liar I thought you were. You really do have a sister...."
"Patrica, who is this?" sister said. Her name was Jan, according to Patrica, who, if she was the chick's sister, should have known.
"I met him on the bus, Jan," Patrica said, somewhat defensively. "He's been shot."
Jan laughed softly. "What is he?" she said acidly. "A cowboy?"
"No, he's-" Patrica said, but Jan interrupted.
"I dig it! The Midmorning Cowboy! Hah!" she laughed, and I was beginning to dislike her laugh.
"By the way your sister described you, which seems straight on line by what I've seen, you must be the Mid-afternoon Whore...."
The chick paled; I mean, I don't think anybody ever talked to her like that. She just wasn't used to it.
"C'mon, Patrica baby," I said. "Let's practice some more first-aid on this arm." And we trundled upstairs to the John.
I guess Jan was left speechless. We didn't hear a peep out of her, and when the bathroom door shut behind us, Patrica broke up. She leaned back against the door and giggled maniacally. She wore a see-through blouse with no bra, and I saw through it quite clearly now. Her tits were good-sized for her age, which she hinted was sixteen. They jiggled like melons, high and firm. I leaned forward and tilted her head up, interrupting her giggling with my lips.
"Mmmmmmmm, baby!" I murmured. "I got that lovin' feelin'...."
She pressed against me, her body tight, and I knew that she was nervous. I wasn't sure whether she was a virgin or not, but I expected to find out for sure shortly.
"Ohhhhhh, Paul!" she whimpered. "Ahhhhh, shit! Oooooooooo...."
I had her blouse open and one of her young tits in my mouth. I ran my tongue over the nipple, which felt like a hard bud in between my lips. She liked having her tits kissed, liked it very much. I figured any kid who turned on that easily must've picked up some in-depth experience somewhere. I'd meet no obstacles....
"Get those bells off, and what's under them," I said, letting her tit slide free. "Meanwhile...."
I unbuckled my pants and hustled out of my clothes. In a few moments we were on the floor, immersed in a soft, fluffy rug that someone had been land enough to place there for our enjoyment. The management was extraordinary.
"Yes, yesssssss!" she hissed as I fed my dick to her puppy of a pussy. Ha! She was so fresh, it was country....
"That's it, baby," I urged. "Let it come! Just lie back and let it take hold! Mmmmmmmmm, you makin' it! Nice and soft, baby! We'll pick it up soon....
I didn't want to burn myself out in a hurry. My prick had a load of come stored up in those sacs that would spurt for thirty minutes if unleashed. And that willowy body of hers felt so good under me!
"Oh, Paul! Yes, yes, yessssss, mmmmmmmm!" she moaned.
I dug listening to her, with her small-child, sex-kitten sounds. She wiggled around on that floor like she wanted to grow away from me, her body lifting and writhing. She gave me a tour of the bathroom, and when we finally got jammed together, we lay between the tub and the toilet.
"Fuck me!" she gasped. "Screw me, Paul! Oh, pleeeeease! Ohhhh, please!"
I wondered what it was she thought I was doing to her, and then I realized that she wanted me to come in her. She wanted to feel my dick explode in her wide cunt, which had probably seen more action than anyone guessed. I figured she had screwed around the same way she smoked pot; carefully, with discretion. I had been gauged as a good bet.
"Ooooooooo," she sang, her teeth clenched, her body arched up at me, hungry.
I just let nature take its course, and we coupled like mad dogs. It was fine, real fine. I always enjoyed screwing, but it was always situations that turned me on. I made it with Aunt Hope so good because she was my aunt; my dear teacher, because she was my teacher; Marcia because her husband dragged me in off the street to satisfy her.
And now, Nurse Patrica, the teenaged sexpot, was bucking under me, her cunt snapping at my cock like she wanted to castrate me. But I feared not; I planned to be potent for all time....
My prick gave what we both wanted her to have, coincidentally. All sorts of obscene noises came out of her mouth, and we rode the crest of an incredible trip together. When it laid us down, we were exhausted. The joint stunk with funk, and we were slick with sweat.
So we climbed into the shower, and I fucked her again. It wasn't easy, either, with my bad wing. But I flew, and she came along, you might say.
"What the hell is going on in there?" Jan shouted from outside the door. I could imagine her head tilted, her face intent.
"Is she as out of it as she seems to be?" I asked Patrica.
"Yep."
That was all I needed. I stepped out of the shower, full of soap, and opened the door. She nearly fell into the room, and I grabbed her. Her dress was immediately soaked through. She struggled free of my arms and glared at me.
"Get out of here!" she shouted. "Get the hell out of-"
Patrica interrupted her by stepping out of the shower nude. Jan put one and one together, and it came out two. She just stared at us as if she were stricken. She was naive, impossibly so, it seemed.
"Listen, Jan," I said moving toward her. "You ought to join us, not fight us. You're living wrong, baby. You got to drop all those strange ideas someone put in your head and begin to form your own opinions. Now, honestly, wouldn't you like to have a man, right now?"
No answer. She had blown her cool. I imagine all sorts of alternatives were jumping through her head in those moments. She might have called the police; or thrown us out; or thrown me out and kept Patrica so that father could lecture her; or just turned on heel and stalked away from us. That would have been the easiest, and the fact that she did nothing but stand there gawking gave me the impression that her soul might be very malleable.
"She's high!" Patrica suddenly chirped beside me. "She's got herself high!"
Jan didn't deny it, and she appeared embarrassed, her face flushing slightly.
"What the hell is she high on?" I asked Patrica.
"Those pills she takes to give her energy," she answered. "She gets overwrought, the poor thing...."
Most likely, Jan had never heard Patrica talk to her like that before, because Patrica had never had the advantage now, and Jan was at a loss for words. I could see that she was hopped up by her eyes and her manner; she seemed possessed by a kind of timid energy.
I drew her close to me, wanting to feel that sexy body she carried so well. And to my surprise, she allowed it! I kissed her, and when her mouth opened, I knew that I had found a new playmate.
"Oh, God!" I heard Patrica giggle. "What next!"
"Let's leave this little girl to her games," I said to Jan, wanting to pick her up and carry her into the bedroom; my bad wing made that impossible. I had to maintain her interest and lead her to where she would do me the most good, to bed....
"C'mon, baby," I said. "C'mon...."
She turned and smiled at Patrica, and then she followed me down the hallway, although I must say I didn't let go of her hand. It was like the blind leading the blind.
"Ohhhhh, I don't know what's happening," she murmured when I had locked the door. I didn't want any smart-ass interference from her kid sister.
"Don't think," I whispered as she unzipped her dress and pulled it over her head. "Just feel...."
She crawled onto the bed and I gathered her up and eased her onto her back. Her tits spread out nicely, and I nibbled one, then the other. She was very tight at first, nervous as could be. But the more I sucked those juicy tits, the more she began to unwind.
"Just feel!" I repeated, over and over, "Let your body take over! Let your mind go...."
"Oh, yes!" she gasped as I trailed kisses down her belly. "Ohhhhh...."
. I found her clitoris, and I snapped my tongue against it, wanting to push her all the way before she got second ideas and tried to back out.
"Ooooooo" she moaned. "That's so good! I've ... I've never felt anything like it...."
Patrica had been right; Jan was all bravado. She came on strong, but she was a lamb. She wasn't a virgin, I could tell that. But she'd never made it with a man who could really do something for her.
I intended to initiate her....
"Put your tongue in me!" she squealed, loving it now. "Use your tongue down there...."
Well, well! She was warming up nicely. I did as she asked, and her body lurched upwards, as if I had shoved a hot poker up her cunt.
"Gahhhhhhhhl Ohhhh, Jesus!" she groaned, her body twisting, squirming on the clean sheets. "This is unbelievable! Ohhh, Paul! Make love to me! Please make love to me good!"
Like I said, all she needed was the right man to come along and make her body feel the things she had been missing for so long. I mean, she wasn't old, but she should have been enjoying herself some time ago, I figured. She was well built, and she was hot. I guess she just didn't run into the land of guy she needed all those years. Probably got stuck dating the president of the student council in high school and the leader of the Young Men's Worship League in college.
"Ooh, ooh, ooh!" she yelped as I worked my lips and tongue over her clitoris, and when she came, she came with all barrels blazing. Her body heaved up at me, and I had to grab her buttocks in both hands and fight the storm. Her thighs closed tight about my head, like she was still denying the pleasure she was experiencing.
But then her legs swung wide open, and I licked and sucked her clit until I couldn't take it any longer....
"Make way for daddy!" I laughed as I got to my knees and moved atop her. She chuckled and let me do all the work. I decided that she would have to learn a few things if we were to get on famously.
"Let me feel it!" she gasped as I probed for her cunt. "Ohhhhh, I want to feel your dick in me!"
That sounded like a good idea, and when I had located both her vagina and my cock, a meeting was arranged. I positioned the head of my dick at the lips of her cunt, then pushed. It slid in easily, without resistance. She was sopping wet, and when she felt my prick penetrate, she got the thrill of her young life.
I found out later that she had screwed some before but that the guy hadn't gotten her hot enough or wet enough, so that there was always difficulty getting his cock in her. She'd be tight and dry, and he nervous and clumsy. If he managed to get it in at all, he'd come after a few minutes of fucking, and she'd experience a small orgasm at best.
She was doing much better this time. I drove her through one climax and into another; she was right at home. Her smooth thighs clasped me, and she wriggled her tongue into my ear, a delicious sensation that almost made me come.
"Careful!" I gasped. "We ain't ready to go off together, baby!"
When she realized that I planned to come in her as she climaxed, it was as if she had been given an enormous piece of her favorite candy. She started moaning and rasping like she was losing air, and when I felt her third orgasm approach, I forgot about her and let loose.
"Unnnnnnhhhhh!" she grunted. "Ooooooooo!" For a beginner, she did a nice job of working her cunt over me, demanding all I had to give her. I hit the ceiling, bounced down off the bed, and went through the roof. She was a grand fuck, a truly talented girl who had unlimited potential in bed.
"Paul, Paul...." she whispered when it was over. "You did it so good to mel Oh, God! I never felt like this before in my life! I feel so happy, so satisfied...."
Satisfaction; if I gave her some, she was mine. It didn't matter that there might be some guy out there who could give her even greater satisfaction, a man she might love not merely for what he could give her in bed. She had latched on to me with a desperation. I was the savior, the all-powerful force that would turn her life around and push it in a different, exciting direction. No, she wouldn't look for any other man. She was all mine....
Someone rapped on the door, very loudly, and Jan gasped. I kind of held my breath, too. It could have been anybody out there wanting to find out what was going on, such as her father, if he heard loud moans issuing from behind her locked bedroom door in the middle of the day.
But it was only Patrica. "Hey, got a telegram for a Mr. Paul Studly!" she called out, and I had to laugh. She was mad.
I spent two weeks with them, and I had a ball to say the least. They treated me like a king, feeding me, taking care of me. And then Patrica came to me with a proposition.
"Let's cut out of here," she said. "Father will be arriving later this week, and this scene will be dead. Besides, Jan is getting uptight."
That was true; her sister seemed increasingly reluctant to abandon herself to the pleasures of the flesh. It was as if her guilt had caught up to her.
"Where we gonna go?" I asked. "I haven't got any bread...."
"We can go to Mexico. And don't worry about money; I've got plenty."
And so it came to pass that we left. Patrica took five hundred bucks out of her bank account, and we boarded a bus that would take us down the west coast of Mexico.
"This is going to be such fun!" Patrica said as the bus pulled out. "We don't have a worry in the world...."
So it seemed....