Chapter 1

The blast of the air horn brought Rod Hanratty out of his chair and over to his second floor window. There he got a fine view of tight denim stretching tighter still up the crack of Linda Patton's ass as she raised the side doors of her lunch wagon truck, and there he got another good view of her tits. She was one very beautiful twat. Take the best features of all twenty of the sewing machine operators at Hanratty Mills and roll them into one, and Linda would still look better.

She had long raven hair and a face whose radiant beauty came from more than just her perpetual cheerful smile. Her complexion was far better than the cream that went into the coffee she served, and her cheeks were as downy smooth as the fresh peaches she kept iced on her truck. She had a great set of tits, an absolutely fine young ass, and a long, willowy waist that made Rod's hands itch every time he looked at it. All this she showed off daily to supreme advantage through jeans and a t shirt or blouse. It drove Rod Hanratty further out of his mind to think about what she'd look like all dollied up in one of the gauzy nylon garments his company was currently contracted to fabricate for Hollywood Stars Originals.

She was wearing a blue tank top that day, and even from his second story window Rod could see the thrusting outline of her nipples and aureoles through it. There were very nice swells of that peaches and cream complexion of hers to be seen above the scoop neck of her flimsy little shirt, but her nips and her aureoles held his attention that day. He'd like to stick his dick in any part of her, he'd be satisfied just to rub himself up against her slim, lithe beauty, and given the opportunity, he'd give her an all-over tongue bath in exchange for just touching his cock to her cuntlips. But in spite of the warmth of her smile, the bitch was probably as cold as ice. He stood watching her, fondling the thickness of his cock through the pocket of his suit-pants, and now she looked even better as the twenty fat pigs who worked for him came waddling out to fill their guts with donuts and candy bars.

Rod's operators weren't all fat. Some were so skinny and old their tits had disappeared long ago. And some were black. There was only one worth looking at, the Collins tomato, and she came out of the door chattering away with the pigs like she always was. Beverly Collins was the only one in the herd worth screwing, but with a probation officer snooping around after her every month, Rod didn't feel free to force the issue with her. And for a frustrating change, she was one of those operators who turned up her goddammed nose at him every time the boss tried to play a little grab-ass. Rod had thought this business was going to be a lot more fun when he had taken it over from his father, but it had turned out to be more frustration than fun.

Linda Patton was making change and selling her garbage as fast as she could do it. They were all milling around her and her truck, including Bobby Stanton, the apprentice sewing machine mechanic who'd been hired for the summer. Normally Rod took no notice of the kid, but on this morning he did, for in his haste for his sweet roll and milk, Bobby dropped his wallet. And who should pick it up but Beverly Collins, on probation from a prison sentence for armed robbery. And what did she do with the wallet? Naturally, thief that she was, she grinned and quickly slipped it in the pocket of her slacks. Rod grinned, too, and gave his cock a final squeeze before going down to get his morning coffee and a closer look at Linda. He'd deal with little Beverly later.

At thirty-six years of age, Beverly Collins was a woman who'd seen fifty years of life. Before she became a convicted felon she'd been a topless dancer, and before that a singer with a band and a photographer's model and a beer maid and a bank teller and you name it. She'd been married three times and had had two kids, both of whom lived with their fathers somewhere. She would have been married a fourth time except that when the guy was busted for robbing the liquor store, he turned Beverly in, so they went their separate ways in their separate prisons. In her prison, already more than a little distrustful of men, she'd found that women make pretty good bedmates, too, and this was one reason she could put up with the working conditions at Hanratty Mills. Most of the white chicks there were either fat or old or both, but there were several spade chicks she'd been cozying up to without actually letting them know she was hot for their panties. One of these was a cute little brown-skinned gal named Glory, and it was she, Beverly decided, who would be the first to benefit from the find Beverly had made at the lunch wagon that morning.

There had only been eight dollars in Bobby's billfold, but far more important, there had been a school I.D. that clearly stated Bobby was only fifteen. And nobody, no one at all was allowed to work at Hanratty Mills unless they were sixteen. And from the look of Bobby's clothes and the meagerness of the lunches he brought to the job, he needed that job real bad. It felt nice to have some power over a man, even if he was only a fifteen year old one. It was particularly nice to have this power over young Bobby, for Glory had eyes for Bobby.

Half a dozen times a day, Glory would lean over from her machine to Beverly's as Bobby passed and say, "Mm-mm! That's the prettiest white boy I ever seen! Sure would like to have his pretty face up between my legs while I was sewin' on this imagine underwear."

At first Beverly had replied, "Shit. Men don't know how to lick cunt. If you want to get your cunt licked, honey, let me know and I'll fix you up with a chick who's got a tongue that'll straighten your hair."

Glory just grinned and rolled her black eyes in the direction of blond Bobby, quite tall and sturdy for his age, and said, "He's the one I want down there. I just don't know about those lezzies."

"You never do know till you try, honey."

Glory had looked at Beverly with suspicion-and with a glimmering of interest-and said, "Ain't no tellin' what I might do if somebody got him to straighten my hair."

Beverly had had no idea how she was going to bring that off, but she was determined to try. Bobby was so terrifically shy in the presence of all those women and all that frilly lingerie they worked on that he could hardly reply to a kind word as he oiled their machines. Seeing this, the women rode him even harder, teased him more and more unmercifully, and drove him further into his shell. Lately they'd come to openly propositioning him, waggling their asses in his face, and then howling with laughter as he retreated, red-faced and close to tears. With proper use of the wallet and its incriminating I.D., Beverly might become queen of the roost, and able to climb into the bed of any of the choicer chicks who came to work at Hanratty Mills. And wouldn't that be one helluva laugh she'd have on that lecherous bastard Hanratty.

Beverly caught Bobby alone in the bobbin room.

It was right next to that fetid stinkpot they called the Ladies Room, where Beverly appeared to be headed for the moment she saw Bobby go into the bobbin room. There she closed the door behind her and leaned against it for a moment, glowering darkly at him. Four inches taller and fifty pounds heavier, Bobby cringed back against the shelves as if Beverly had a whip in her hands. It was his wallet she produced.

He started to reach for it and she snatched it away, snapping, "What the hell do you mean by lying about your age?? ? If the Labor Board finds out about this we'll all be fired and this place will be shut down for good, and all because of a little lying bastard like you!"

"I d-d-di.. . . I had to g-g-g-g.. . . "

"Shut up!" Beverly barked, and slapped him across the face, flashing tears into his eyes, but still not letting up on him. In fact she felt power surging through her like a snort of cocaine as she continued to browbeat the big blond boy before her. "There are women out there with kids! You want them to starve, just because of you? People like you ought to be sent to jail! And you know you can go to jail for lying about your employment. If not you, then your parents. But you don't give a damn about them, either! Do you? 0f course you don't! If you're not the rottenest piece of filth I ever looked at I'll kiss your ass!"

"But I had to have the job!" he said. He was weeping now, and Beverly found that delightful. "I didn't know I could get anybody else in trouble."

"Oh, kiss my ass," she sneered. "You knew very well."

"Cross my heart, I didn't!" he protested.

"Cross your heart? Christ, you sound more like twelve than fifteen. Crossing your heart won't do you any good. Kissing my ass just might," she said, and turned her back on him and thrust out her big round butt.

Bobby became quite paralyzed. Even before he'd come to work at Hanratty's he'd been plagued by sexy dreams. Not all of them of the night-time variety. But since he'd been working at the mill, every night as well as every day had been filled with women thrusting themselves at him from every position and posture. He knew very well these were pretty atrocious women he worked with, with the exception of Beverly and some of the dark-skinned women there, but nevertheless he'd been tortured with dreams that involved each and every one of them at one time or another. Mountainous breasts or skinny little flappers, flaccid fannies or gigantic ones, it made no difference when it came to making Bobby thrash his damp sheets into twisted ropes every night. Some of the ugliest faces in the mill could leer at him in the most exciting way during his dreams, and drive him helplessly on to yet another nocturnal emission, and there was not a thing he could do about it.

He was thoroughly ashamed of himself. He knew he was the world's worst sex freak, knew it so surely he couldn't even look at a pure and lovely girl like the one who drove the lunch wagon. He could hardly bear to look at Beverly, in his opinion the queen of the sewing machines, and he knew very well that the best thing for him to do would be to take up with the homeliest girl in the world, for if he ever got close to a really good-looking woman, he'd make a complete, everlasting fool of himself. He knew they all teased him deliberately. He didn't blame them for that because he deserved it, sex pervert that he was. And he knew that if he responded to that teasing by reaching out and grabbing one of those titties or buttocks that were thrust in his direction, he'd never stop. He would climb all over the woman whom he first touched, smother her with kisses, hug her to death, and drown her in an ocean of his jism. And here was Queen Beverly with her gorgeously round and compact fanny thrust out at him, not just teasing him about kissing it, but angrily demanding it of him. For her sake, and at great expense to his will power, he twisted his hands tightly behind his back and gritted his teeth and stayed where he was in the close little room.

It wasn't working out according to Beverly's plan. She was going to get him in a most compromising position, then open the door an inch and beckon o Glory, but he wasn't going for it. Not yet. "You'll go to jail," she said, and yanked down the zipper of her slacks.

The most spectacularly erotic dream Bobby had ever had now appeared, and it was no dream at all. White panties, purest white, and stretched so tautly over melon round flesh he could see that flesh through the panties. And the flesh he could see through those panties was no less fantastically beautiful than the flesh he saw above and below them. Kissing asses was not a sexual matter, he told himself, it was a matter of showing his abject apologies. But still and all, there was no telling what he might do if he touched his hot lips to those hot panties.

"Your parents can go to jail, too!" Beverly said, and fucked down her sweaty old panties. What the hell, she'd gone this far and it couldn't hurt to go a little farther. And kissing bare ass was so much more of a show of female superiority than kissing ass through slacks and panties. She wished she really could send the little bastard to jail. All men deserved to serve some time, and to get as horny as women in jail get. It might be enough, she thought, to summon Glory in and let her see Bobby backed against the wall by her bare ass. That might sway pretty Glory into getting closer to her. But what would really do the job would be Glory popping in and surprising her coveted little boy while he was down on his knees with his cupid's bow lips pressed against Beverly's bare ass. She reached back behind her, dug the point of her finger deep in her soft right buttock, and said in her last attempt, "Right here, you little liar, or I go straight to Mr. Hanratty with your I.D."

Bobby fell on his knees and kissed her, smeared his lips against perfect round flesh. He yearned with all his heart to grab her and hold her, lest she take this electrifyingly beautiful flesh away from him, but she hadn't said he could touch her. And then he wanted to touch her to push her away, for the smell of her made him gag when she pointed at her asshole or somewhere, and his lips went to there when she said, "Right here, baby. Right here."

Beverly found she was suddenly almost out of her gourd with raunchy sexual excitement, and she had to tell herself to slow down. Now was the time to call Glory in, with the kid right down on his knees. But when she felt his tongue plunge up her asshole, she turned about and grabbed his head and said, "Let's feel that tongue all over, honey."

Suddenly Bobby found that he was licking

Beverly's cunt. And really licking the heck out of it. He couldn't understand it. One moment he'd been enjoying the ecstatically contrite feeling of kissing this fantastically beautiful woman's ass, the next he'd smelled something bad enough to make him stick his tongue out before he got sick, and then she'd swung her leg over his head and turned around, and Bobby couldn't get enough of this wonderful triple distilled taste of what he'd just been trying to spit out. The hot slippery flesh of Beverly's rich wet succulent cunt heaved toward him convulsively, and Bobby started creaming in his jeans.

The convulsion in Beverly's cunt signaled the start of an orgasm of great proportions, as good as she'd had since she'd come out of prison. No way of holding back now, and no thought to sharing the kid with someone else, Beverly had already let go and let it happen. She spread her legs and grabbed the kid by the hair and jammed his hugely active mouth harder against her, and said, "Now pretend it's ice cream and you gotta get it before it all melts." And then she squalled and fell back on a shelf, driven there by a tongue that felt like a super-hot, slick cock had been plunged up her cunt. She gritted her teeth to keep from crying out any more as Bobby's mouth slid up and down the length of her lividly hot cunt, one moment plunging his tongue up her cunt, or perhaps her asshole, the next moment sucking her exploding clit like a beautiful leech. She had to lock her arms and legs around his neck and hold on lest the next big thrust of his tongue send her on up through the ceiling.

Bobby couldn't stop cumming. And he couldn't get enough of Beverly's fantastic cunt. But the more he licked it, the wetter it got and the more he came. Long spurts of his jism were filling up his shorts, and as each of the spurting came, he held harder to Beverly's hips, sucked harder at her big, bare cunt. He was going to die from all this ecstasy. There wasn't any question about it. This utterly nasty, utterly beautiful thing he was doing to her had driven him out of his mind, and he wished it would never stop.

It was stopping for Beverly. The suddenness of it all had wrung an enormous orgasm out of her, but now that the first big blast of pleasure had swept through her she could come to her senses again. The pleasures were still very great, sweeping up and down through her body in time with sweepings of the kid's fumbling but very active mouth, but now she could handle those pleasures. She was able to hold back her moan of delight and stop her thrashings on the shelf she was sitting on, and able to loosen her hold in his hair. She could even think about Glory again, whose mouth should be where

Bobby's then was. This thought, coupled with the latest insertion of Bobby's tongue up her cunt, brought a final blast of orgasmic pleasure to Beverly that she knew would have to be her last for a while.

It was so wet and hot up her hole! It tasted just awful, but somehow Bobby couldn't get enough of it. His jerking cock was still filling his shorts with its jism as he reached for her heart with his tongue, then took it out of her wonderful body and smeared kisses all over the freakishly strange flesh of her cunt. The jism had ceased to flow but he still felt like he was cumming when she suddenly thrust him away and he sprawled back on his butt on the floor.

She was glaring angrily down at him, still the perfect vision of erotic delight in spite of his loss of control, and Bobby panted and muttered, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to . . . to get so.. . . "

Beverly slipped down off the shelf and jerked up her panties and slacks. The kid didn't have a damned thing in the world to apologize for, but he didn't know that. He was a natural born pussy-hound, like all men were, and with the right kind of guidance he could provide her with some of the kicks that were missing in this drab, dirty working place. She zipped up with hands that were still shaking and managed to maintain her look of righteous wrath as she said, "That's just a taste of what you're going to get for lying like you did. Before I'm done with you, you'll be on your knees like this apologizing to every woman inthis shop. Now get out of my sight. You make me sick."