Chapter 1

"PLEASE BE GENTLE with me," Gee Gee murmured as I positioned myself between her long, lovely legs. Her voice trembled slightly, almost sounding like inexperienced uncertainty. I knew if there was anything Gee Gee couldn't be, it was inexperienced; she'd been to see too many casting directors about TV and feature picture parts.

Just the same, I assured her, "Don't worry, baby; I'll be so gentle-"

I forgot to finish because the tingling head of my rigid cock started nuzzling into her cunt's slippery lips hungrily and felt so great I forgot about everything else. I leaned against it slightly, starting it into her. Delighted amazement flashed through me and I exclaimed, "Lord, baby, you really are tight, aren't you!"

"Please be gentle," she repeated in that same small, trembling voice.

"Sweetheart," I said, chuckling, "you've nothing to worry about. This cock of mine isn't that big; I've never hurt a girl with it in my whole life!"

I eased my cock on into her. As it disappeared into her sweet cunt slowly, I couldn't help marveling again, "Lordy, you really are tight!"

Finally I felt my balls touch Gee Gee's ass; I was into her to the hilt. That same instant she moaned, "Is that about all of it? I don't think there's room left inside me for any more. I feel so full of cock I think I'm ready to burst!"

I felt certain she had to be putting me on, and no pun intended, but it still pleased all hell out of me. Strange how having a woman say a thing like that pleases a man. I told her soothingly, "It's all in you now." Then without really intending to, I asked, "How in hell have you managed to work as much as you have in the studios, yet kept your cunt so tight?"

Gee Gee murmured, "I've been careful to get most of my parts from fags, or guys I'd found out love to eat pussy a lot more than they like to fuck it. There just aren't many men I'd trust the way I trust you."

I gave her a small hunch, making the head of my cock move just a fraction deep within her, as I chuckled and told her, "You are delicious!"

Instantly she gasped, "You're the delicious one. Lord, how your delicious cock fills all the emptiness inside me. What a heavenly feeling to have my cunt and belly so filled with your beautiful cock there seems to be no room left in me for breath!" She broke off panting.

I began drawing my cock slowly out of Gee Gee's sweetly clinging cunt. Lord, but the tightness of it felt indescribably delicious, the way it gripped that electrified cock of mine. I murmured, "Just relax a little, baby," then almost chuckled as I realized how I'd said it. I'd sounded like I was giving a totally inexperienced virgin her very first warm-hearted fucking.

Gee Gee sounded almost caught up in the illusion too as she panted, almost inaudibly, "Oh, it hurts so good! So very, very good!"

I began sliding my cock in and out of her steadily, keeping the tempo slow at first. But riptides of delicious sensation began rising through me as my cock stroked back and forth through that incredibly tight, caressingly hot cunt of hers; the tempo of my thrusts began growing faster.

I found myself trembling, as I labored over Gee Gee, found myself feeling as intensely excited as if this was my very first piece of ass. She hadn't made it to stardom yet as an actress, but I'd have voted her an Oscar as the best piece of ass in Hollywood on nothing more than the brief sample I'd just had. Her cunt was fantastic!

Then Gee Gee began wriggling her ass under me, began arching her back up off the bed to meet me every time I sent my cock thrusting back into her cunt to the hilt. It was as if she was straining to open herself more, urging me to thrust into her deeper and still deeper.

Gee Gee began uttering little shrill cries, not quite a scream, of ecstatic pleasure. Her response to me was so damned exciting it intensified all the indescribable sensations her cunt was creating in my blazing cock. I felt my senses beginning to reel before the onslaught of mountainous waves of sensation like I'd never experienced.

Awareness began slipping from me of everything except that raging hurricane of sensation. I even began losing awareness of what Gee Gee was doing, of how she was responding. My awareness was wholly centered upon that caressing cunt of hers which seemed to be swallowing me up. I began riding her hard, forgetting completely my fervent promise to be gentle. The only thing I could think about was hammering my stiff cock in and out of her sweet cunt harder and faster. My frantic thrusting became more and more furious. The load of sensation her cunt was packing into my electrified cock was fantastic.

However, when I thought about it later, somewhat sheepishly at first as memory of my promise to be gentle returned, I realized that Gee Gee's supposedly delicate cunt apparently had been equal to all the increase in stress and strain I'd given it. In fact, although I'd been so wholly overwhelmed by the storm of my own sensation I'd been unaware of what she was doing at the time, later an apparently detached corner of my mind sent up the memory of Gee Gee moaning and groaning and gasping as she writhed under me and bowed her back up off the bed to meet my every thrust hungrily. She'd obviously been about as near to an orgasmic blast off as I had. That response of hers to me was part of what had shot my indescribable sensations clear off the scale.

But at the time absolutely all I was aware of was the fiery cloud of passion I was totally lost in. I had our naked bellies slapping together like applauding hands as they collided at the end of each driving thrust into her sweet cunt. It seemed like I'd never been into such a fantastically delicious cunt in my whole life before.

My cock and whole lower belly, in fact my entire body, felt like it was ballooning with the indescribably intense cargo of sensation which that cunt of hers kept building higher within me and ever higher. It was creating excruciating tension that set my whole body trembling. It was wonderful. It was awful. Excruciating. Fantastically delightful. Heaven, yet hell. I hoped it would last forever; I felt I couldn't endure the delicious torment one instant longer.

Somewhere in the far distance I heard someone yelling. Yelling like someone was killing him. But I wasn't alarmed; somehow I knew I was the guy doing the yelling I heard.

I remember also hearing an anguished sounding scream: vague as I was right then, I knew definitely that wasn't coming from me and it seemed somehow like the most exciting sound I'd ever heard in my life. My excitement really skyrocketed.

That's all it took! That scream sent me into orbit, pulled the trigger on that tremendous explosion I'd been struggling toward. A strangled yell came out of me that drowned out the faintly distant scream that had triggered me. I felt ecstasy and terrible near-anguish melt into one indescribable hurricane of sensation to my senses.

Later that detached corner of my mind handed up a memory of Gee Gee bucking and screaming like a wild woman under me, acting for all the world like she was frantic to tear her smoking cunt free of my geysering cock. At the time all I was aware of was the fury of sensation in my cock being kept at fever pitch by the relentless muscles of her pulsating cunt milking away at it greedily. Her fiery cunt had become like a demanding mouth gulping the flood of my hot male juices being geysered out of my throbbing cock and splattered all over her sensitive inner surfaces.

In all my years of work in Hollywood, I'd never had a greater fuck, yet there'd been absolutely nothing premeditated or planned about it. It had been a spontaneous happening that started when I stopped by Gee Gee's place looking for a fag director I'd wanted to hire.

When I headed my Rolls on down Sunset toward my office, I'd forgotten all about the director I'd stopped there hoping to find. I drove along in a rosy glow feeling like everyone's friend; strange how a good piece of ass will effect a man like that.

As I passed the UCLA campus, I saw a beautiful coed trying unsuccessfully to hitch a ride, I stopped. I nearly fell off my seat when she leaned down to look in at me through the open right window and demanded, "Mister, do you want to screw?" This just seemed to be my morning!

She waited, making no move to accept the ride she'd been thumbing for until I answered. That section of Sunset was laid out following a deer-trail through those hills, yet traffic on it these days moves very fast. A fire-engine-red Corvette rocketed past, shaking my car with its jet stream. I called, "Get in, darling, before someone ass-ends me. We can discuss it while we ride, can't we?"

"I've got to find the right man in a hurry!" she protested. Just then a Cougar roared past on the Corvette's trail, its backwash shaking my car. She suddenly opened the door and slipped in. As she closed the door, I got rolling.

"Now tell me ... what's all this rush to find a man with screwing on his mind?" I asked. "Have all of UCLA's young men gone faggot? A coed as lovely as you didn't have to make any desperate search to find help when I was a schoolboy."

"Oh, but that wouldn't be the same," she protested. "I've got to prove I can hitchhike and earn enough money to pay travel expenses while I'm doing it."

"Travel expenses?" I asked, frankly puzzled.

She nodded and explained eagerly, "There's this bunch of university girls who're going to charter a plane to fly them to Europe as soon as school's out. Then the plan is to split up, hitchhike all over Europe individually, then meet again in Paris at the end of ninety days. And each girl has to have earned enough over and above her day-today expenses to pay her share of chartering a plane home."

"That should be a very educational way to make the Grand Tour," I murmured. "You must be putting me on."

"Oh, no!" she protested instantly. "It's all on the level. Most of the girls are upper classwomen. My girlfriend and I are the only freshmen I knew of who've been offered a chance to join the group. It's really quite a privilege."

"A privilege?"

"Oh, yes! They're the campus jet set."

"They don't propose working their way through Europe this way because they all come from poverty area homes?"

"Oh, no!" she assured me. "They say doing it this way will make it a meaningful experience in coping with realities of life. Each one has to keep a diary so she can share her individual experiences with all the others after we're all back together again."

"I could kill myself!;' I said.

She looked startled. "What?"

"I've been advertising my casting calls in the wrong places." I glanced from the twisting, up and down boulevard for an instant, looking at her as I explained, "I produce sexploitation films. I'm always needing beautiful girls who're willing to do almost anything to get into movies. Now I find out I could've been having my pick of university women." I glanced back at the street, shaking my head.

"Oh, no, not at all," she protested quickly. "Doing anything of that kind would be very un-cool. Purely commercial. Devoid completely of meaningful interpersonal relationships."

That jerked my eyes back to her from the winding street. "You really are putting me on!" I exclaimed.

"Oh, no," she declared, looking very serious.

I glanced back at the street, wondering if I were closer to senility than I'd thought possible. Finally I said, "You introduce yourself to a man by asking, 'Do you want to screw?' then expect to go on from that into the development of a meaningful interpersonal relationship?"

"The older girls say that's a vital part of learning to cope with the realities of life. They say that's all a man is ever thinking about when he meets an attractive girl."

I wasn't prepared to debate that just then and I was more interested in the answer to another question. "So you're short on time to earn your share of the charter cost before the group's ready to leave?" I suggested. "That's what the big emergency is about?"

But she didn't respond. I glanced at her. I was amazed to discover she was crimson with a blush. She seemed to feel my eyes, glanced at me, then looked quickly away guiltily. "The big emergency is," she murmured, "I don't really know anything at all about sex, except theoretically. The older girls say I'm about the sexiest-looking freshman in the university and they just took it for granted-" She broke off.

I finished for her, "That you had as much personal experience as you have looks."

She nodded, looking miserable.

"What about your girl friend? " I asked.

"She hasn't had anymore experience than I have," she murmured.

"So you're trying to throw together your own homemade crash course in sex experience?" I asked.

"That's what it boils down to, I guess," she admitted.

"How old are you?"

"Seventeen." She sounded as if she had just admitted something disgraceful.

"You must have been a very good student to have gotten out of high school so young," I said.

"That's why I didn't get any of the real life experience I should have," she declared. "My parents are hopeless squares."

"Very uncool," I murmured sympathetically.

"Very!" she exclaimed.

We had by then reached the stretch where Sunset relaxes a little and straightens out along either side of a parkway, acting very sedate as it crosses Beverly Hills. I glanced at her, giving my eyes time to really enjoy the expanse of naked thigh revealed below her stylish mini. I reached over and touched the shapely leg nearest me and she jumped at my touch as if startled, then gave me a quick, apologetic smile and with obvious effort made herself relax. Suddenly I realized exactly what it was like to feel like a dirty old man. I didn't care for it at all. I put my hand back on the steering wheel.

"Oh, that felt good," she protested. "Don't stop."

When I didn't instantly seize upon her invitation, she asked hesitantly, "Don't I ... feel good ... to a man?"

I said, "That's not what you need to worry about."

"What then?" she asked.

"The important thing," I told her, "is, does the particular man in each instance feel good to you. A whore, a prostitute, worries about pleasing the man, her customer. A woman who is not a whore requires each man she bestows her favor upon to put her pleasure first, to worry about pleasing her. Or I might more correctly say, she should remember to require that. Too few do. As a result, most men are lousy lovers and most women sexually unfulfilled. It's all the result of right or wrong mental attitudes. Dig?"

She looked at me, eyes wide with surprise. Finally she nodded, then murmured, "Dig."

"That's why the psychology of your approach is all wrong when you say, 'Mister, do you want to screw?' That's not modern honesty; that is psychological stupidity. Instead of making the man court your favor, defer to your pleasure, you just hand over the whip and spurs to him and invite him to use you with no more respect than he might give a dull-witted animal. And in sex, like everything else in this life, you seldom get more respect or more anything else than you demand. Get the picture?"

"Golly!" she exclaimed.

Then she lapsed into thoughtful silence. It pleased me to observe that she seemed to be really mulling over what I had just told her. I have never admired women, however physically attractive they might be, who will allow themselves to be made into a doormat for a male bully in the mistaken belief that his brutishness is admirable masculinity. Making love to a doormat is too flat for a truly self-confident, psychologically secure male. At least that's always been my opinion. I like women who have a very good opinion of themselves and of the value of their favors. Winning their favors and thoroughly pleasing them does far more for the male ego than riding a doormat roughshod could ever do. Therefore I have always had contempt for the man who feels it necessary to coerce girls into submission, using his decision-making power regarding casting for a picture, just as I have always felt contempt for one who feels it necessary to resort to getting a girl drunk or out of her mind on dope. Such so-called conquests actually prove nothing except what a lousy opinion such men have of themselves; and of course they are one thousand percent correct in their rating of themselves as creeps completely devoid of real male charm.

Suddenly the girl stirred from her silence, asking, "Do you mean you like a dominating woman?"

"A dominating woman is just as big a bore as a dominating man, and just as psychologically insecure," I told her. "I like a self-confident woman, just as I prefer the company of and business dealings with self-confident men who don't feel the insecurity-created necessity of resorting to trickery and double-dealing." I added, more than a bit wryly, I expect, "That's one reason I have damned few friends in this town. Lots of acquaintances, but damned few friends I'd ever ask a favor of."

"You mean a truly self-confident man or woman doesn't feel the need to dominate others?" she asked.

"Exactly," I told her. "They demand respect, but not subjection. I know whores in this town who have far more self-confidence than many Beverly Hills wives do. That's why so many Beverly Hills psychoanalysts are so fat."

"You're a very interesting man," the coed declared and stuck out her hand. As I shook it she said, "My name's Joanna."

"I'm Isador. My friends call me Dore," I told her. "And you're a very interesting girl, Joanna, and a very bright one. Are you sure you want to go through with this project, making sex pay your way on a grand tour of Europe this summer?"

The Sunset Strip was just ahead and my office building directly at hand; I turned left into the basement parking area as she responded brightly, "Oh, yes, I believe so. I still think it should be highly educational."

"Going to hell would be too, if there is such a place," I told her. "The question is, would the educational value be equal to the discomfort?"

She frowned. "I realize there are hazards."

"One of the greatest is your innocence."

"I'm sincerely trying to do something about that," she declared as I nosed the Rolls into one of the stalls assigned to my offices. "You of all people should realize that."

I nodded. "I realize it."

"Will you help me?" she asked as I turned the ignition off and removed the key.

"Do you mean help you by taking you up to my office and making love to you on the office couch?" I asked.

She gave me a long, guileless study and finally said, "Help me in whatever way you feel would help me most."

I suggested, "How about letting me create that crash course in sexual experience you and your girlfriend feel you need?"

She clapped her hands before herself in delight, exclaiming, "Oh, would you? You know so much better than we do..."

"Do you think your friend would go for the idea, too?" I asked.

"Oh, I'm certain she will," Joanna declared.

"Give me a phone number where I can reach you," I instructed her, "and I'll make some arrangements and be in touch."

Eagerly she took a pen and piece of paper from the small purse she carried slung from a strap over one shoulder. She wrote a phone number on the paper and handed it to me. Her eyes were shining with excitement and full of trust.

I got out, went around and opened the car door for her. After I walked her back to the sidewalk outside, I stood watching her walk jauntily away toward the Strip. Under that tight mini, each of her firm, round buttocks had an interesting little jiggle, her graceful hips swaying slightly from side to side with unexaggerated naturalness as she walked. I knew that when the time came to sample that honey pot it was going to be prime quality. It would be worth waiting for. It was important to me that when the time did come, it would be an event she would always look back to with as many fond memories as I did. So far as I am concerned, that is the only right way where sex is concerned. And in sex as in everything else, the right way is always by far the best. And the best way always requires a little time and patience. That's the reason most humans usually beat themselves out of it. Unfortunately self-control seems to be as rare as self-confidence and both are absolute necessities to good sex, as they are to everything else worthwhile in this life.

I applied some self-control and turned my eyes from the enticing view Joanna's sweet young ass presented. I went to the elevator and up to my office to make some phone calls.