Chapter 19
"I still get a funny feeling in my tummy whenever I go down one of these passageways," Marianne whispered to Marvin.
He gripped her elbow reassuringly in the darkness. Marvin had not switched on the light. Pat said there wasn't a possible chance that a flicker of light would reflect through the two-way mirrors but Marv was taking no chances. In front of them, Bancroft and his two diplomats crept cautiously forward, murmuring together in low, excited whispers.
"Is that the only funny feeling you're getting?" Marvin whispered with his lips close to Marianne's ear.
She giggled nervously, feeling his hand go around her waist, then give her a squeeze; an affectionate squeeze. Her conversation with Pat; the wishful dream that his words made seemed more real, the nearness of Marvin and the darkness, the excitement, the anticipation of what they were about to see; all these combined to bring Marianne to a peak of emotion that she had never experienced before. "I'm frightened, Marv," she said.
He stopped walking, pulled her to him in the invisibility, then kissed her. "You don't need to be afraid anymore!" he said with a new, husky note in his voice. And crazily enough she wasn't!
Bancroft had drawn his friends to a stop. "Is this the one?" he asked Marvin as soon as they were close.
Marvin turned his penlight on the closed panel. Number Seventeen! "That's it," he said. Then silently, he drew the panel back.
Bunty Malcolm was waiting for her visitor. She sat on the edge of her bed, swaying her body in time with the music from her record player.
"She looks so good!" Marianne hissed in astonishment into Marvin's ear. "She looks like a little green angel!"
"Bunty's an eyeful all right," Marvin muttered.
They were leaning back against the wall of the passage, peering into the small but luxurious room over the heads of the three visitors, who were crouched at the panel like three hungry dogs.
The small but compact girl was wearing a light green mini. Her legs were encased in darker green silk hose and her green blouse was sheer transparency. Her flesh was the color of amber and her breasts, boldly thrusting, seemed to shimmer beneath the see-through top. The nipples shone icily green!
"Her eyelids are green too of course," murmured Marianne, "and her lips."
"Maybe she's Irish," Marvin muttered.
Marianne shook with amusement. "I wonder if she's green," she grabbed Marvin's hand, pressed it against her crotch, "down here?"
He laughed silently, then wondered if Phoebe would ever have said a thing like that! Wondered. Then felt so damned glad that it was Marianne beside him.
Bunty had got up, she spun herself around like a small, green top. Her skirt flared high and the green hose blurred into amber thighs and above were the flashing, white, bare buttocks.
Marvin caught his breath. The door of the room opened and the visitors entered. It was like watching a play, thought Marvin. Only better because this was real and the performers acted spontaneously.
"Here comes Craig and Wesley," murmured Marianne, who seemed to know as much about the guests and their visitors as Doctor Saxon did.
They were both young, healthy looking and eager. The taller one grabbed Bunty and kissed her with a display of passion and affection.
"That's Wes," commented Marianne.
Craig, the shorter and darker of the two, watched with a smile on his face. He glanced around the room curiously and obviously looking for his love, his Angel!
Bunty drew back, breathing deeply. But not releasing her arms from around her lover's neck, she spoke to Craig quickly, excitedly. The sound was not turned on, but it was easy to understand that Bunty was telling Craig about her sister, Angel. He murmured a few words, then smiled, moved to the door and exited.
Before the door was even shut, Bunty's small hand flashed down to Wesley's crotch and they could see her fingers gripping, feeling ...
"The little bitch," Marianne whispered.
Marvin felt her body tense against him. He crossed his hands over her belly, pulling her against him as he stood behind her. He was aware of her leaning back.
Bunty's fingers slid down the zipper on Wesley's pants and her hand bulged and twitched under his clothing.
His hand was around her waist, holding her to him as he continued to kiss her lips. His hand slipped down and gently dragged up the miniskirt until the white, glistening arcs were revealed. He squeezed the soft flesh steadily.
Bunty moved her mouth away from his, pressed her lips into his shoulder as she bent one knee, rubbed one thigh against the other as his fingers squeezed, pinched, then slid to the intimate cleft between the blushing cheeks. She turned her head up and they saw her mouth working as she spewed out words.
Marvin switched on the microphone.
"Stop teasing me, Wes, you bastard, give it to me." Her hand pushed into his clothing more deeply, then emerged triumphantly holding his penis. She twisted it viciously until a sound of pain was forced from his lips.
"All right, you hot bitch," he mouthed. His hand slid up to the waist of her cute, green skirt. There was a small rip as the holding button gave way, then he whipped it off her and Bunty's gorgeous flesh was revealed to the hungry, watching eyes. There was a sound like a long-drawn-out sigh from the three figures crouched at the panel. Bunty had turned away from Wesley for a moment; her hands went down to her thighs. She stroked upward with smooth, loving motions and then she twitched her hips as she hurried to a small table just below the observation mirror inside her room and picked up a small jar of cream and took a blob, then held open her small, moist vaginal lips as she creamed them, slowly at first, then jerkily as her vulva began to stir.
"The lips are pink." Marvin whispered into Marianne's ear. "She hasn't got a green cunt."
Marianne pressed herself back harder and Marvin felt his penis begin to stiffen as she mouthed wetly, "You're so right, Marvin. It's an educated little cunt."
Bunty turned her educated cunt to Wesley. He stared at her and a slight shiver ran through his body. In one hand, he still held the tiny skirt that he had ripped off Bunty's delectable body and in the other he gripped his cock. It was not a thick penis, but long. A good three inches extended over his clenched hand. The tip of it weaved like a hungry, but undecided snake. His hand dropped the green skirt. "Ready," he mouthed, "you ready to be fucked, Bunty?" He clawed off his clothes as Bunty sat down on the edge of the bed nearly nude. He slithered towards her. The small girl removed her transparent blouse with a quick, neat movement, then she let her shoulders drop back onto the bed. Her thighs, covered only by the dark green straps of her garter belt, reflected the light with a weird, amber shimmer. She drew up her knees with a lithe, smooth motion and as her thighs parted, her vulva opened between them until the watchers could see the clean, vaginal lips opening and closing with an exciting and enticing sucking gesture.
Marvin watched, then his hand moved involuntarily ...
Marianne did not repulse him as his fingers slipped under her skirt, slid round her hips, then stopped on her belly. She felt his fingers grope through her small, private forest, then they went down, thrust between her thighs, touched her wet, opening lips and her cunt began to throb. "Marv," she muttered, deep in her throat, "oh, Marv." She pressed her thighs together, tightly.
He kissed her ear gently. "D'you want me to stop?" he whispered.
"No," she breathed.
The men in front of them were engrossed in the tableau in the room before them.
"Look," Marianne stammered.
Marvin stared into the Malcolm girls' boudoir. Bunty had let her head drop down on the bed, her shoulders thrust into the deep mattress, her hands were poised between her positioned thighs, fingers parting the small, ready lips and a small pink tip appeared, disappeared, then emerged again. Bunty's clitoris was awakening. "Start now, Wes, now!" her words came wetly to their listening ears.
Wesley lurched forward. His penis, projecting forward of its own accord, seemed to swell and grow before their eyes. He leaned over Bunty, his face close to the green-hued nipples of her breasts and his cock poised at the soft, spreading lips of her cunt.
"Start, I said," she spewed, "don't fuck, just start."
A shiver ran through Wesley's body as he lifted himself.
"Mouth me," the words slicked from Bunty's lips. "Kiss it, suck it, you bastard. Then you can fuck me. When I'm ready not before. Get down, Wes, down!"
He dropped to his knees before the open thighs. His head moved forward, his face was buried in the soft amber flesh and they saw his cheeks drawn in as he sucked, exhaled, then sucked again.
Bunty had closed her eyes, her hands had moved up onto her green nipples, she squeezed, twisted them with slow, knowing manipulations.
"That little nympho knows her stuff," Marianne jerked out.
Marvin began a slow, sliding motion with his fingers. Her inner lips were like slithery satin. "How about this one?" he murmured into her ear. "Is this little nympho any good?"
"Sssh," she whispered. She turned her head and he felt her lips on his face. He moved his mouth onto hers, thrust his tongue between her lips, then made a muffled sound as she bit it!
"You bastard!" she mouthed softly.
He grinned in the darkness, kept his hands where they were and tried to turn a small part of his attention to Bunty.
The muscles in Bunty's thighs rippled delightfully. Wesley's cheeks were sucked in and out as Bunty's cunt was squeezed with his lips, stroked with his tongue. The small, tensile nipples had swollen. The green tips, teased and excited, projected towards the ceiling. "Now, Wes, now!" the muttered words came clearly over the speaker.
They watched as Wesley lifted his head, moved his body upward and forward, letting the tip of his elongated cock touch the wet, throbbing tip of Bunty's cunt. His face went down over her aroused breasts, his lips closed on the green, waiting tips and his cock slid in slowly.
"He's got a long, long penis," Marianne whispered. "How about you?" She thrust back with her buttocks and Marvin felt his cock squashed against her soft flesh.
Oh, my God, he thought, Phoebe was never like this! And probably never will be.
Wesley's nude body was arched like the naked span of a bridge. His lips were glued to Bunty's breasts and the end of his lean penis slipped in and out of the small, tight cunt with slow, practiced movements. Bunty stroked the back of Wesley's head as though he was a pet dog. She gave him instructions as he worked on her amazing body. "Bite my tits, Wes," she'd mutter. "Push in deeper, Wes." Or she'd spew, "move your cock, Wes, don't you know how to fuck?"
"Nice little girl," Marvin whispered.
"A bitch," Marianne replied softly.
With his mouth close to her ear, Marvin remarked, "A very fuckable little bitch." And he'd felt Marianne's body jerk with anger, or was it? He wondered. Was it desire?
Finally, Wesley had jerked his mouth away from the green, angry nipples, moved his body up, his long penis going in and in, then pressed his mouth on to Bunty's. They saw her legs entwine around his body, sucking him into her even more deeply. Then she drove him with her heels, as though she was astride a horse, urging him, as he worked frantically to satisfy this tiny monster of desire. She twisted her lips away from his. "You're too small, Wes, you're no damned good!" And he strived harder than ever, his movements becoming faster, more frenzied and more frightened! With a squirm that wriggled her body from under him, she withdrew her cunt from his cock, seized his hips and twisted him over with an unsuspected strength. Then she spewed, "Suck it again. I'll get on you." She panted as she sat up, her breasts heaving and the nipples standing out like two angry green lights. "Your cock gives me nothing, but nothing!" she gasped, her face no longer sweet but red with anger. "Suck my clit. Maybe you can do that right, you punk!"
"She's mad at him," Marvin whispered. And Marianne shook with amusement.
Bunty slithered off the bed, reached down to Wesley, slewed him around until he was lying on his back on the mattress. His penis, still unsatisfied, stood straight up as if appealing for kindness. Wesley's head was at the end of the bed close to the observer's panel. Bunty moved towards him with short, angry steps.
They stared at the whiteness of her buttocks where the amber skin melanged with pale, then she parted her legs, lifted her incredible little body and squashed her open cunt down onto his lips. "Suck good, Wes. Make it good," her voice was low and bitter, the words seemed coated with a film of slimy anger.
"Make me come, Bunty, please!" they heard Wesley gasp. His mouth worked on her wet lips, then slid down onto the tensed tip of her clitoris.
"Just suck my clit," she mouthed, "forget my cunt. Make my clit go."
They could see the small, weaving muscle throbbing as his lips closed on it. His mouth worked and he made low, panting sounds as he tried to appease his demanding mistress.
Almost reluctantly, Bunty let her face drop onto his crotch. Then she took his penis delicately into her mouth and they saw her cheeks begin to suck.
Unnoticed, the door of the room opened slowly. Craig had returned from his visit to Angel. He crept around the room, then stood by Wesley's head, looking down at him and Bunty's open cunt.
Wesley's eyes rolled upward as he saw him. He moved his mouth off the flickering clitoris, then grinned at his friend. Craig grinned back and as if it was a signal, he began to unfasten his pants.
Bunty, oblivious of Craig's presence, sucked on Wesley's cock.
His pants slid to the floor, then his penis rushed out. It was big and thick and wet. The slit at the top opened and closed as if in anger. Craig took a step forward.
Wesley's eyes rolled. His mouth sucked the edge of Bunty's cunt downward as his tongue tickled the throbbing tip. Craig positioned himself above Wesley's mouth, his penis at the ready, its slit open, gaping hungrily. At a silent signal Craig thrust forward. His penis forced itself into Bunty's vulva, pried open the lips and moved inside, deeper and deeper.
She made a small sound, lifted her mouth from Wesley's cock and spewed, "About time you came, Craig. Fuck me good. This cock sucking punk can't make me come!"
They moved down the passage slowly, tiredly, as though they had participated in the sexual scene instead of merely witnessing it. At the exit Marvin paused. "Go ahead," he murmured to Bancroft, "I'll join you later."
The Washington man gave him a quick look, his eyes flickered to Marianne, then he nodded knowingly, spoke naturally, "Sure, Marv. I know the way. I'll see you in the office." And he led his friends through the exit to the corridor, then let the door slide closed behind him.
Marianne breathed hard and leaned against the wall. "Well," she murmured, "well."
Marvin tried to curb the trembling in his body as he leaned close to her. "Don't you know?" His hands were around her, his flesh thrust fiercely against hers.
She let him kiss her and kissed him back, then, as she felt him lift the front of her skirt, felt his raw, naked organ against her own hot flesh, she stopped him. "Just one thing, Marv."
"What?" his body was tensed, throbbing.
"Phoebe!" she mouthed hesitantly. "What about Phoebe?"
Marvin panted, tried to pull himself together. His hands caressed her as he said, "That's ended. In fact, it never even started." He forced himself to remain still, waiting for her words.
When they came, Marianne sounded as though she was being released from a self-imposed jail. "I believe you, Marv," her voice was a small thankful moan. "I want to believe you and I do."
He licked her cheek, then her eyes, then her mouth. "I want you," he muttered. "I've been wanting you ..."
"I know," she whispered, "I know."
"Not just for now but for after and after and after," Marvin's words were hoarse with sincerity.
"Yes," she whispered. "Don't make me wait any longer, Marv. I've waited long enough."
And like a slicked, oiled drill that knew its own way to the well, his shaft probed to her, penetrated, then drove inside and soft, sexy sounds of satisfaction came from the intimate depths of their bodies.