Chapter 1
Paul Beck fidgeted through the second half of the football game with a recurring hard-on. He knew that five days of campus-bound celibacy was partly to blame, but the rest of the blame lay with the strutting, writhing, leg-tossing drum majorette during the half-time show, with the baton twirlers and their trim, rounded asses and bobbing breasts, with the bevy of cheerleaders in their micro-miniskirts, flashing their legs and smooth thighs around, putting their panties on display. Later in the season, when the weather turned colder, he worried sometimes about the girls catching pneumonia of the crotch, but now, in balmy early October, with one eye on the game and the other on the display of animated flashing young flesh, Paul was thinking only about cunt And he was blaming his hard-on on the wholesome bouncing bevy on the field.
His friends said that everything made Paul Beck think of cunt, anything gave him a hard-on, but they were being unkind. There was a lot of poetry in Paul, a lot of sensitivity in his souL and in his nineteen-year-old worldliness, it took something special to give him a hard-on. Like the sight of falling leaves, or birds in flight, or a Volkswagen passing, or a rainy day, or sudden sunshine, or the sound of violins, or the rumble of trucks.
Driving Sally back toward her school, after the game, Paul was homier than ever, and Sally didn't help his condition any.
"Would you like to go to bed with my roommate?" Sally asked, as they were easing out onto the turnpike.
"You can talk plainer than that," Paul said.
"Would you like to fuck my roommate?"
It should have been a rhetorical question, Paul knew, but it wasn't. Not from Sally. She was full of surprises, especially when he was driving. He knew Sally would like nothing better than for him to have a small lapse at the wheel and dent his gleaming, mint-condition 1941 Packard Phaeton, his mother's profound gift to him on his nineteenth birthday. But Paul Beck kept his cool. He also kept his eyes on the road. Sally had a hatful of distracting tricks she could play with that lithe, sensuous, leggy body.
"Michelle?" Paul said, looking straight ahead at the line of swiftly moving traffic.
"Of course, Michelle. She's the only roommate I've got."
"What makes you ask?"
"She'd like you to fuck her." Paul kept his eyes straight ahead. "Anything else?"
"She'd like you to go down on her."
"WhatI" Paul took his eyes from the road to glance quickly at Sally. He'd never heard her use that expression before.
"She'd like you to kiss her pussy. Lick her twat. Suck her cunt. Is that clearer?"
"Somewhat," Paul said, driving carefully.
"She'll be glad to suck your cock. As a sort of exchange of favors."
"How do you know all this?" Paul asked. He was stalling now, feeling his way, not quite sure what to say next. Michelle looked to him like the liveliest, loveliest, most mouth-watering little cunt in the whole goddamn sorority house. Outside of Sally. But there was nothing little about Sally.
"She told me so," Sally said. "Any time, any place."
"How would you like it if I did?"
"I wouldn't like it," Sally said. "I wouldn't like it if you just snuck off someplace and fucked and sucked with her. But I'd like it if I could be there. It would be kind of exciting to watch."
"Fucking is not a spectator sport," he said.
"Who said anything about being just a spectator?" Sally said, moving closer to him on the wide green, leather seat. "You could lap my cunt while you were fucking her."
"Christ," he said. "You've really been turning tins over in your mind, haven't you?"
"Yes," Sally said. "I've been flunking about it all week, ever since Michelle told me she wanted to fuck you."
He felt her hand moving slowly into his lap.
"Your roommate, Michelle," Paul said, trying to con centrate on the traffic, "sounds like she's out of her whole bird. Is she some kind of virgin or something?"
"What's that word mean, virgin?" Sally asked. "You don't have to talk like you're in the Middle Ages just because you drive this mint-condition stagecoach."
He tried to shift away from her hand but it was too late. Her fingers touched the hickory hardness of his straining cock.
"Oh, ho," she said. "The big Paul prick is ready again. Hard as a rock, your cock." Sally had poetic tendencies.
The tips of her fingers drummed a gentle tattoo up and down the side of his stiff shaft, against the stretched cover of his trouser leg. He squirmed, fitting his back tighter against the back of the seat. Goddamn this Sally. Goddamn this traffic. He pushed her hand away, tentatively. She put it right back, and gently squeezed his cock.
"Listen," he said, trying to change the subject. "Don't knock this great old car."
"Why not? It's beautiful, all right, and it smells nice and leathery inside, but it's as conspicuous as a nun in a whorehouse. Besides, it was more than ten years old when you were born, for God's sake."
"You know as much about cars as you know about nuns. Or whorehouses." Her hand still lay against his rigid limb. Not moving. Not clutching. Just there. "My mother knew what she was doing when she gave me this car." He wondered for the first time where she'd found it. Nobody had to give him an oil painting of what she'd probably done to get it. His mother knew how to drive a hard bargain with her still-lovely, thirty-six-year-old body. Her toast-of-the-continent cunt.
"What do you mean, she knew what she was doing?"
"Well," he said. Jesus, this girl had to have everything explained to her. "Did you see that couple we passed a while ago, in the Triumph? And all the couples in the Mustangs and Cougars and MG's and every other cute little bucket-seat modern monstrosity?"
"Yes?" There was a dawning of enlightenment in her eyes but her hand stayed where it was.
"What do you suppose they do when they get an attack of the instant hots? When they want to fuck, right away?"
"You mean if they can't find a motel?"
"Yes."
"Hand job, I guess," she said. "But most of them probably get off the road and get out into the woods, this time of year."
"Damn right," Paid said. "Right now they're pounding the fall foliage flat all the way from here to Northampton."
"Now I see," she said. I've been pretty dense. In this lovely, wonderful 1947 Packard, with these great big wide uninterrupted seats, we've got a motel all our own, just you and me. A motel on wheels."
"You got it," Paul said.
"Just you and me," she said, and took her hand away, leaving his prick to pulse on its own. "Or just you and any girl you happen to be with."
"Sally, for Christ's sake," he said.
After a long moment, she moved over and leaned her head against his shoulder, and the clean smell of her long, tawny-blonde hair filled his nostrils. Her hand reached out again and started moving in a slow caress along the entire length of his stiff, raging, imprisoned cock.
"Can't we do something? Like fuck?"
"Soon. I'm looking for an exit."
"Slide the seat back," she said. He felt her free hand fumbling to find the tab of his zipper.
"Jesus, no," he said. "Don't. As soon as I find a place to turn off we'll find a back road somewhere and fuck like crazy." She'd destroy him yet, this girl. Once when he was driving he'd slid the seat back, and she'd unzipped him and taken out his cock and sucked him off, and while he was coming he'd almost hit a telephone pole.
"Why?" she said, teasing, still stroking the caged monster with her hand. "Don't you like me to lick your cock, Paul?" He'd taught her to talk to him like that, damnit "I'll just tickle it a little, with my tongue. I'll just take the head in my mouth, just the red part, and hold it there, and suck on it a Utile."
"Please wait," he said. "Please."
"All right," she said, acting hurt. "Most boys like me to suck their cocks." She moved away from him along the seat.
He looked over at her. She was leaning back against the door on her side of the car, smiling, her mouth open slightly, her lips moist and red against the white of her teeth. Her eyes were big, wide open, a clear guileless gray over the tip-tilted innocent nose, and one knee was up against the back of the seat, opening a long spectacular slant of her upper leg. She had taken off her panties somewhere along the way. The bright pink inner lips of her petal-soft cunt smiled coyly at him from the dewy-blonde nest framed in the welcoming white velvet softness of her inner thighs.
He forced himself to look back at the road, and an exit appeared ahead. Good thing, he thought. In another minute he'd be ready to leave the road and take off cross-country.
Once off the turnpike, he drove slowly, with one hand on the wheel, looking for a likely looking back road. Sally moved closer to him on the seat, still keeping one knee up and her legs open. With his free hand, he caressed the slender ankle near him, the smooth, swelling calf, the exquisite roundness of her knee. He let the backs of his fingers slide sensuously down the softness of her inner thigh till his hand touched the moist nest of her pussy. With the side of his forefinger he diddled with the swelling twig of her clitoris, then turned his hand over, palm up, and slid his middle finger all the way up into her warm wet cunt, his other fingers pressing into the yielding white globes of her ass.
"Don't tease me, Paul," Sally said. "I don't want to be fingerfucked. I want your big hard cock in my cunt, not your finger."
She leaned over and reached for his prick again, squeezing its throbbing thickness just below the rockhard head. He saw a dirt road then, meandering off to the left, and took his hand away from her hungry cunt and put it back on the wheel as he steered the car out of traffic. He held his slimy middle finger up off the wheel.
A half mile along the deserted road he slowed and pulled the car into a leaf-strewn clearing among the trees, turned off the ignition, set the parking brake, and reached down for the lever to slide the seat back, all in one fluid motion. He moved over to the middle of the seat, unbuckling his belt and unzipping his fly.
Sally leaned into his arms, her face up toward him, her mouth open. He kissed her hungrily, his tongue probing and entwining wetly with hers. He reached down with one hand and pushed her sweater up to her neck. She wore no bra, and the pink, pouting nipples of her proud, firm young breasts seemed to be winking at him. He kissed and licked and sucked them, one at a time, until they were bright red, and wet, and hard as marbles.
"Now, Paul," she said. "Please fuck me now. I want to fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK!"
He shoved his trousers and underpants down to his knees as Sally straddled him on the wide seat. She raised herself on her knees and held the angry purple head of his cock between her fingers as she positioned herself over him, then placed it between the swollen pink lips of her cunt entrance, and let herself down slowly, impaling herself on the steel hardness of his spear.
Paul groaned as his shaft slid to its full length in the tight, warm embrace of her squirming twat. She raised herself again, and held still, squeezing the neck of his cock with tiny contractions of her inner cunt lips.
"Ah, you're wonderful," he said, and meant it. She had more talent in her twat than practically any girl he'd ever fucked.
She began to slide up and down the length of his shaft, with a long, slow, rhythmic motion, and he arched his hips, thrusting to match every plunging descent of her gulping cunt. He was lost, adrift in a sea of wet, warm, clutching twat. He cupped the deliciously round, white globes of her palpitating ass in the palms of his hands, urging her to a faster rhythm as he drove his rigid prong deeper and deeper up into her bottomless, soft-sided cave of a cunt. Her mouth was over his, her tongue thrusting into his mouth in time with the rhythm of their fucking. He moved one hand over and slid his little finger into the tiny tight aperture of her asshole, and got the response he wanted. With a sharp intake of breath, she increased the rhythm of her plunging descents on his hard slippery shaft, and moved her mouth away from his.
"Oh, fuck," she gasped. "Oh, shit," as her quivering, clutching cunt lunges became more frantic. "You're going to make me come, darling. Can you come with me?"
"If you want me to," he grunted, driving his great cock up into her with a reckless fury. "Come now, baby. Now. Fuck fast, and come."
She went wild, her hips moving up and down and around with furious abandon, and as she groaned and gasped and shuddered, he let himself go completely, and felt himself explode inside her. Skyrockets went off in his head, as he felt her shuddering, clutching, wild orgasm going on in waves.
She lay against him limply, still straddling him, while the waves of sensation diminished and the clutching of her cunt subsided. After a long while she lifted her face to look into his.
"It's been such a long week without you, baby," she said. "A very long week."
Tor me, too," he said gallantly.