Chapter 6
HOW TO HANDLE BROADS
I paused briefly outside Wanda's door. I could hear the Stereo going. It was classical. Shit! That meant Wanda was really pissed. She only played that stuff when she had her bowels in an uproar. I'd have to play it cool. Real cool.
Using my key, I eased the door open. She wasn't in the living room. Quietly I closed the door and headed for the bedroom. I didn't make it. The ashtray came sailing right through the open bedroom door. A string of vile, dirty words followed close behind. They would peel your eyeballs if I put them down here. What? You want to know anyway? O.K. They're your eyeballs. I ducked just in time, and the ashtray shattered noisily against the wall.
"You dirty, shit-eatin', no good, lousy, cocksucker," Wanda yelled, reaching for a perfume bottle. I was glad to see she wasn't as shook up as I had thought. I neatly dodged the Chanel number sixty-nine, but the picture frame nicked me on the arm.
"Bastard! Pimp! You useless bag of cow shit! You after birth of a Afghanistan gang-bang, you!" Wanda screeched, reaching for a jar of cold cream. "Ya gonna be back early, are ya? Ya gonna see me soon, huh? Liar! Shit head! Dick-licker!" The jar headed in my direction, and without waiting to see if it found its mark, she groped for another one.
Well, I could tell right off that she was a little upset, but luckily it wasn't as bad as I had thought. When she was really fucked up upstairs, she hurled "syphilitic scumbag" at me.
Wanda was clad in loose, flowing, oriental pajamas. Her big tits flopped as she bounced around, looking for more ammunition. I steadily moved in on her. As she turned, grabbing for another bottle, I gathered her up in my arms and dumped her on the bed. She was face down, and fell kicking and twisting. All the while Wanda was casting grave doubts as to my mothers sexual preferences, and my own capabilities, except with various animals.
My cock was pressed against her soft ass. It felt good. I felt my meat growing. The more she twisted, the bigger my joint got. I knew she would be able to feel it pressing against her ass. She was bucking like a mare in heat. I ground my dick into her. Her harsh, angry breathing became deeper, more passionate. She was gettin the message all right. I grinned at her.
"Son-of-a-bitch!" she yelled. "Get the fuck off me. Jus' 'cause ya got yer meat up, don' t'ink yer gonna shove it in me." She kicked her feet helplessly, although not as fervently as before. "Go ram it up that whore ya been fuckin' 'round with all day." Reaching behind her, she tried to get her hand in my hair. I dodged.
"Baby," I soothed, grinding my hips. "Ya got it all wrong. I ain't been with no other broad. Honest! With Holly. That's where I been. Really. We been workin' on that caper I tol' ya about. I tried to call you all day. No good fuckin' phone company got the lines all fulla dog shit. Couldn't get ya. Honest, baby. It's the truth. Ya don' believe me? As' Holly. Go on. Call him. He'll tell ya. Been wit' him all day. Go on. Call." I punctuated the last by thrusting my granite hard dick firmly between the cheeks of her ass, the bottom side wedging itself in place.
Wanda still squirmed. But with less conviction than before. Like all dames, she would get her ass all outa kilter once in a while, shit in her soup, then bitch 'cause it smelled. When broads get like that, ya gotta humor 'em. You know. Play up to 'em. Make 'em think ya been creamin' in yer jean for their box. If ya don't, well they're likely to throw a hammer-lock on your balls, and cut off your fuckin' daddy-o. Dig it? Amen!
"Yea? He's nothin' but another meal for a shit eatin' dog," Wanda yelped, trying to buck me off again. I held on tight, She was ranning outa steam. I let go of one of her arms, reached under and grabbed her by the tit. I kneaded it steadily. If I had done everything right, she should start with the bawlin' bit next. After that, it would only be a matter of time before I would be ramming it into her. Broads! Ya just hadda know how to handle 'em.
"Oh, Johnny. Why do ya treat me like this?" Wanda wailed. Yep! I was on the right track. A couple of sobs shook her.
"Baby, baby, baby," I whispered hotly in her ear. "It's all in yer head. I dig you the most. You know that. Don' ya? I mean, who gets all my meat? You! You don't think for a minute that I could pound the hell outa you like I do, then fuck 'round with some other dame too. Do ya?" I dry humped her, hard.
Several more sobs wracked her. She fidgeted a little, although not enough to even mention. I was home free. Jus' hadda get her legs open was all. Once I poured the pole to her, she would be all peaches an' cream. Mostly cream. Letting go of her other arm, I began tugging at her PJ bottoms, at the same time continuing with my pitch. That was the trouble with dames sometimes. Ya hadda pitch to 'em, even when ya was tired.
"I mean, remember th' time I took ya on a ride onu' Staten Island ferry? Ya think I take any other cunt ... er, I mean broad, onu' ferryboat ride? Huh? Do ya? Tell me. Ya think all I gotta do all day is run around ridin' the fuckin' ferry?" Her struggles were so light now that I couldn't tell if she was fightin' or agreein'. Almost fucked up though, Gotta watch that. One thing. No cunt likes to be called a cunt. Broad, bird, pussy, bitch, even whore. But not cunt. Cuz, maybe, but not cunt. Daffy, eh? But that's the way dames are.
You can bat one right in the kisser with your whang so long as ya say I love ya while you're doin' it. Ya can shit right on their pointed little heads, so long's ya tell 'em what a nice hairdo they got. Ya can even stick an umbrella up their asses and open it, so long's ya tell 'em ya bought it jus' for them. Daffy! That's what dames are. But let's face it, man, you ever find anything any better to fuck? So, you gotta put up with it.
Man, like there's a moral here if ya jus' dig it. How many times ya seen cruds what aren't fit to lick shit off a cows ass, swingin' with all the pussy they can cram into their beds, while some straight cat winds up pumpin' his pud? Huh? Like, if ya make the Village scene, how many times ya see some old cat, like thirty, maybe even thirty five, diddy-boppin' downa' street with some groovy puss? Cool man. Like that cats got the secret man. He knows where the cows shit, and don' step in none. It's all in how ya handle a dame. That's all.
You gotta make them think their shit don' stink, even when it does. You gotta make 'em think they are the greatest thing since pot, and twice as potent. Ya gotta make 'em think the sun rises in their cunt, and sets in their ass, and that you worship Ra. That's where it's at baby. But, some cats jus' don' dig the action. I mean, like the cat that swings with all the meat. He knows. The pud pumper? He jus' don' believe, baby. So, let him pump his damn pud till the mother falls off. Who cares? If he's too fuckin' stupid to groove in, that's his tough shit.
By now Wanda was whimpering steady. She had stopped fighting completely, and was diggin' my hard. I had her PJ's down over her hips. Her white, creamy flesh sparkled up at me. I had her nipple between my thumb and forefinger, really jazzin' it up good. It wouldn't take long. I threw her my fast ball.
"I mean, Jesus, baby. Here I been breakin' my fuckin' balls all day, an' for what? Jus' so's I can take some other broad ona' fuckin' Staten Island ferry? Your happy ass. Bet ya even forgot that I even paid the nickel. Huh? Didn' ya? Come on. Admit it. Ya forgot that, didn' ya? Ha! I fought so."
I stopped humping into her, pretending to get angry. That's the way ya gotta play it, baby. Cool. Ya play it right, an' ya can make a bird believe that black is white, shit smells good, and that mink coats are bad for their health. It was time to drop my slider in on her.
"'Nother thing, 'member last winter? I had that cold? Didn't I get up outa my death bed, an' take ya to look at them new dresses in Macy's window? Huh? Didn' I? An' now all you wanna do is hand me a ration of crap. Man! You're really sumptin, ya know that? I mean, like you really take the fuckin' bakery. A guy practically signs 'is own death warrant jus' so's ya can glom some rags inna window, an' do you 'predate it? Hell no. What do you do? Ya make him feel like a Republican at Harvard. Jeez!"
"Ohhhh, Johnny," She wailed, trying to turn around. "I'm sorry baby. Honest. I'm jus' a no good bitch. I don' deserve a guy like you. You oughta kick my ass from here to Brooklyn an' back. Waahhhhh!"
Didn't I tell ya? See? Jus' like sellin' the Empire State Building to a Texan. Hardly no effort at all. But, ya gotta stay cool baby. Cool!
By now Wanda was facing me, her cunt pressed against my fly. She wrapped her arms around me and tried to eat me alive. Now, if you ain't cool, ya would make the mistake of groovin' right back at her. Bad scene baby. One thing ya jus' gotta understand. Cunt love to eat shit. They like it! They crave it. It's their bag, baby. As long as you keep a broad eatin' turds, she'll bounce up, kiss your ass, and beg for more. But, ya feed her steak, and baby, someday you're gonna come home and find some other cat fryin' your fish for ya. It's a fact. Like I toF ya. Who th' fuck can figger broads?
"Oh, Johnny baby! Why do ya put up with a dumb fuckin' cunt like me?" I knew I was in real solid now. Any time a cunt calls herself a cunt, ya know that the only thing she wouldn't do for ya would be to vote for Spiro Who? But, let's face it man, that's a lot to ask of anyone. Even a cunt.
"Honest, honey. I don' know what gets in me sometimes. It's like my head gets all fucked up, and I can' see right. Any broad would flip to have you prongin' her steady. I guess maybe that's why I get all squirrelly sometimes. I know that those fuckin' cunts would do 'most anythin' to get you porkin' their bacon for 'em. Ohhhh, Johnny, baby. I jus' love ya so fuckin' much I can' stan' the idea of some other cunt gettin' ya. I'd rather see ya with the sweet mother cut off firs'."
Her hand was workin' my zipper by now. She rammed her tongue in my mouth. Shit, she tasted good. I really dig Wanda. Like, there is pussy, and then there is pussy-pussy. Take Shirley. Now she's just plain good fuckin' type pussy. But Wanda, well dad, she's what the fuck it's all about, baby. Like, she rides me, rolls me, reams me, and when I think I'm dead, brings me back to life. Like, Wow! That little bundle of joy is outa sight, baby. The heat of her hand made me groan. I started tonguing her back. She was spreadin' 'em; kicking off her PJ's at the same time. My whack-a-doo pressed against her hot, naked, flesh. The head was touching her soft, curly tufts. Keerist! She was already wet, and the dp of my dong almost spit on her when it felt the hot moisture.
Then her legs were up over my shoulders, locked around my neck. I was driving deep into her, reveling in the burning wetness. She groaned loudly. I kept right on power housing it into her; until I felt the tip hit bottom. Jeez, but I love to fuck her cunt.
I settled into a slow, steady, pumping motion; driving my whang as far in as it would go, then pulling it almost all the way out. She would squeel when she thought I was going to pull it all the way out. I raised up on my arms, looking down into her face. Shit! Man, like this is what it's all about. Dig?
"Oh yes, Johnny! That's it. Fuck it to me, baby. Ooooo"
"Ya like it, doll? Ya really dig me prongin' ya?"
"Oouuuuu, baby, yea! Deeper Johnny! Ram it in me harder."
"Umuph ... Aahhh ... grruu ... sweet shit, Wanda, you got good pussy, baby."
"It's all yours baby. Fuck it! Bang it! Tear it up, Johnny. It's all your honey. Fuck me! Fuck the shit outa' me honey. Oooooo! Aughhh! Harder, baby! Faster! Oooo! I'm gonna come. Eeiiii! Oooo! Gaaa! Geee! Uhhhh! Ouuuu!"
The chick wrapped herself around me so fuckin' tight I thought she was gonna croak me. She bit into my neck, dug her nails into my fuckin' ass; an 'all the while she was rammin' it up to me like she was goin' nuts.
Wanda's one hell of a hot piece, man. Like, she boots one off in a hurry, but don' slow down a bit. That first 'un is just a warmer-upper. The bitch's cunt gets hotter'n a oven after that. She tightens it up and shit, baby, ya think your gonna blow right outa your mind.
I rammed it into her as hard as I could. I was hot as hell myself now. The velvety softness of her box massaged my joint. The harder I pronged her, the wider she spread her legs. I couldn't help grinnin' as I saw that her toes were touchin' the bed above her head. She had her eyes shut tight, and her breathin was hard. Keerist! That cunt sure liked gettin' the blocks put to her.
I was ready myself now. My foam bubble over, spilling out into her. I was jabbin' it to her like ninety. When the first wad jetted into her, she moaned sonorously, clasping me to her.
"Shoot it in me! Come, baby. Fill me up honey. Ooooo!"
Man, you better believe I tried. I pounded away at that pussy like there wasn't another one around for a hundred miles. My gism just kept on spurting. I thought I was gonna tear my fuckin' insides out, I was comin' so much.
Wanda was milking my pole for all she was worth. When I rammed it in her, she would tighten so hard I suspired painfully. When I would try to retrieve it, it felt like somebody had slammed a door on it.
Then I felt her booting another one, and she was yellin', screamin', cryin', and beggin' me to never stop fuckin' her hole. Dad, you better believe that right then, the last thing I ever wanted to do was stop polin' her. It's a fuckin' shame that a guy can' just fuck twenty-four hours a day.
I ached all over. I'd been prongin 'her for over an hour. I'd been exhausted when I'd come in. Only reason I'd even bothered to see her that night was because I was a little worried about her. But once I eyeballed that form of hers ...!
Finally, I was jus' too fucking tired to move. I collapsed onto my side, heaving for air. My dong came outa her with a squishy sound. Wanda yelped her disapproval. Grabbing my root, she held it upright, at the same time straddling me. The only thing Wanda liked better than gettin' fucked ... was gettin' fucked 'bout twenty times. As hot as her pussy was, my cock was hard again almost instantly. She rode it like it was a fuckin' hobby horse. Shit! I was goin' outa my freaked out gourd.
I felt my semen building up again. This time when it cascaded out in her, my balls hurt. I musta come at least seven, eight times. Only a cunt like Wanda could get that kinda mileage outa me.
Satiated at last, Wanda lay beside me. She snuggled close, her hand holding my flaccid flesh, like if she let it go, it might get lost. Sighing happily, she nuzzled my neck.
"Honey?" she whispered softly. "Yea," I answered sleepily.
"I'm sorry. I'll be a better broad from now on. Hones'. Only, don' fuck no other broads. Promise me. Say, 'baby, I promise I won' put the pole to no other cunt, but you.' Say it Johnny. Please!"
I said it. All right. So it sounded stupid as hell. You think I'da got any rest if I don' make like a parrot? Huh? When a broad gets somethin' on her head, it's like, there jus' ain't no rest for nobody until she gets it off. That's jus' where it's at man. Even after she got her plumbin' fixed, she still ain't gonna believe that I don' fuck no other broad but her. Dames are like that. They jus' naturally don' trust a guy. Daffy, ain't it?
I slept. Like a bowery bum. I wake up the next morning with Wanda makin' like a cannibal. Man, she's mouthin' my meat marvelously. Like I said earlier. There ain't nobody can give a blow job like Wanda. I look down and she's bobbin' up and down like a cork off the East River Pier. One look, and pow! I'm off like a rocket.
I put both hands on her head, holding her down. She gobbles up my come like it's bacon and eggs on the plate. After the night before, my nuts hurt like crazy when I blasted off. Shit! I realized that I hadda start kinda slowin' down. I'd heard of guys that was old at twenty-five ... just from bustin' their rocks too often. Hard to believe ain't it?
After she finished me off, Wanda looked at me with that look of hers. You know the one. The, 'that oughta hold ya 'til ya get home, you horny, double-crossing, stud, you.' Broads. Ya jus' gotta 'member that they jus' naturally don' trust a guy. Even after ya make like a parrot and promise you ain't gonna bake no bread in nobody else's oven. Daffy! All dames are daffy.
The warm, satisfying way I felt right then however, made me forget about that though. Wanda was some kinda somethin' else, all right. Outa' sight, baby. Strictly up front. I was lucky. Broads like her don' come around every day. So, I figured it was worth puttin' up with all her bullshit. Still, I did kinda wish she'd learn to trust me.
I glanced at my watch. Eight-thirty. I remembered that I had promised Holly to be there at ten. I had to go by the office first too. George, you know. The poor emotional slob got his sinus's all spooked up if I didn't check in in the morning. Humph! George, and dames. Both of them. All fucked up and daffy.
My mind turned to the caper. I rethought everything that had happened so far. Crescent scar, Eddie, J.B., Ellen, Lois, the guys that had got busted in the crappers, the party, the cameraman, Janet, the dude with the whip, only a coupla days left ... the whole bit. The whole deal was just like broads. Daffy!
After I had shit, shaved, and showered, gulped down a cup of Wanda's lousy coffee, and patted her on the ass, I headed for the office. On the way down, I made up a story for the first edition. So what if it was phony as hell. So was half the other shit in that rag. George would never know the difference. The bastard thought Little Red Riding Hood was a serialized crime story for the morning edition. He never had tumbled to the fact that it was the story of a horny cat from the Bronx with cunnilingus on the brain. Stupid fucker.
And for any other stupid fuckers who don't dig cunnilingus ... that's Brooklynese for "eatin pussy." The reason it started there was because that's all they know how to do in Brooklyn. It ain't because they don' have no whang. They got one all right. It's jus' that if they forget to take their magnifying glass and tweezers along on a date, the chicks outa luck. No kiddin'!
Balled a chick one night. She tol' me about a guy she'd been with the night before. He was from Brooklyn. She said when his whomper got hard it looked tike a cigarette ... half smoked. But man, she said that cat could flat dive for that muff. Outa sight, baby. I kinda suspected George was from Brooklyn. Hadda remember to check the Hall of Records on that one.
Ah well. You know what they say in Brooklyn. "Show me a married cat that don' dive for the muff, an' I'll swipe his girl!" The more I thought about it, I was just sure George was from Brooklyn.
I parked the heap, waved at Joe Decker, a fellow slave, and headed for the elevator. I kinda hoped Shirley would be on it. She wasn't. It was a dull ride to the seventh floor.
George's resonant voice greeted me as I stepped off the lift.
"Bartley!" he howled. Gosh. He seemed a little outa tune this morning. I'd heard diving for muff fucked up a cats vocal chords. No doubt about it. George was from Brooklyn all right.
"Relax chief," I calmly intoned, parking my ass on the edge of his desk. That always made ol' George uptight when one of the guys parked his can on the waste basket he called a desk.
"Get yer crummy ass offa my desk," George bellowed. Since I had other fish to fry, and didn't wanna waste no more time around the sweat factory than I had to, I obeyed.
"All right! What kinda shit ya gonna hand me this morning. Ya got lost, right? Or, a cop gave ya a ticket. Huh? Or, maybe ya gonna pull the one about yer poor ol' granny bein' on her death bed inna hospital? Huh? Yer ass. Yer granny's still rollin' drunks down on the big "B," and sleepin' in phone boot's. Bartley! Yer wit'outa doubt the lousiest, lyin'iest, no good, double-dealin', sorriest excuse for a newspaper reporter I ever seen."
It always choked me up when I realized how fond Georgie boy was of me. Really gets ya, don' it? Right inna bread basket.
"Chief, I would like to sit around here all day shootin' th' shit with ya, an' all, but I gotta write my story. Big one. 'bout the raid. Ya know? The one las' night."
That turned the trick. George's earbones perked up like cocks' in a two dollar whore house. Naturally he didn't know. Because there hadn't been no raid las' night. Except in my head. But ol' George didn't know that. I had 'im hooked. Now to reel him in.
"What raid? Where? When? About what? How come ya don' call in? How come ya don't give it to rewrite? What da' fucks goin' on aroun' here?"
Like I said before. George is the emotional type. With the questions. Always with the questions. But, that's the way it is in the newspaper game. Ya always gotta make with the questions. Daffy, ain't it? The whole fuckin' worlds daffy.
"Look, chief. Ya want I should sit aroun' here battin' my chopper with you, or that I should go peck-peck like a good little news hound? Huh? Ya want I should do that?"
That's the only way to handle it with George. Give him back the questions. Fast. It always fucks up his think tank. That's the kinda guy he is. He goes around dishin' it out, but he just can't take it.
"Yea, yea, yea!" George bleated. "Dat's it. Ya do dat. Yea. Ya do it Barttybaby. Let it all hang out."
See? Like I said. Fucks his think tank all up. Like, the cat's gettin' AC, but his DCs goin' in reverse. If I'da let 'im, he'da sat aroun' all day mumblin' like that. Too bad. I just patted him on his bald pate and headed for my desk. I still wasn't quite sure what kinda shit I was gonna feed to the press room. Hadda be careful though.Ya can' use nobodys real name. I already had a handy list of addresses of vacant buildings. That was always safe. Now just to think up somethin' screwy. You know. The kinda stuff that always convinces the "League" that the City ain't nothin' but a trash heap of depraved degenerates.
I banged out the story fast. I had the cops raidin' a gay joint, and the fags tossin' bags a shit out th' windows at 'em. That'd make the "League" real happy. I even threw in a bit about how the cops got their information from some unknown source, although an unidentified police spokesman, issued a veiled suggestion that the tip had come from a member of the "League." That outa hold the bastards for awhile.
I glanced over the routine assignment fist the copy boy dropped on my desk. Really squaresville man. Like, maybe you cats think all a reporter's got to do is run around prongin' puss. Naw! It ain't like that at all. Ya gotta go on what they call routine assignments. That's just another way of sayin' ya gotta bore yourself silly.
Mostly, it's conventions and such. Every reporter's gotta make at least one of these clam bakes each day, in addition to doin' the really important things. Like prongin' puss. It's just one of the necessary evils connected to pickin' up your ducat each week.
My list for the rest of the week was almost enough to make me cry. First, there was a convention of the Baptist Preachers of the Western Hemisphere. Groovy. That was gonna zing around town for three days. Outa sight.
Then, I hadda interview some clown who claimed he'd invented a nonlethal poisonous gas. One whiff, and you dreamed you were from Brooklyn. Crazy man. Personally, I think I preferred ol' Adolfs KB2. More humane.
Then, to round things out, I hadda talk to some dame who'd broke into flicks by peelin' for the Cyclop. Seems she had come to the conclusion that nudity in films was breakin' down the moral fiber of our country. Honest! That's what the silly bitch had piped out onna TV.
The odds were that the cuz was probably hornier than a bitch dog in heat. Pure nympho. I glanced at her publicity pic. Not too bad. That might not turn out to be too bad an assignment. I mean, like, ya gotta take the good with the depraved.
Stuffing my assignment sheet in my pocket, I picked up my story and headed for the copy room. Usually I just gave it to a copy boy, but I'd been promising myself to have a look at a mousy haired little sash that had just started there. Coupla the guys had put out the word that she was Les, in retaliation for her not puttin' out for 'em. That's how ya gotta handle 'em. She'd come around too. Real quick. Guys say now she hits it like a two dollar whore, and gives ya fifty cents change.
I spotted her right away. Her moniker was Mona. Not too bad, if ya liked 'em short, and kinda skinny. She didn't have much in boobs though. That made me kinda disappointed. I mean, after all, a guys gotta have something to hold onto.
I'd pretty well recovered from the night before. My whang got right up there. It was stickin' our real good in front. I sidled over near her desk. My fly was about eye level with her, and I could tell she was glomin' my meat outa the corner of her eye. I grinned to myself. Cunt. They were all alike. They would give ya the hearts and flowers bit about savin' it for a rainy day. Then, give 'em one look at a proper brick-bat and all of a sudden they swear it's a typhoon outside.
Behind the copy room, besides the composing room, was a crapper. It was supposed to be for the broads. But more pussy was split in that place than there was in a Forty-second street movie house.
"Hi! I'm Johnny. I'm one of the gazetteers 'round here. You're new ain't ya?" I gave her the dazzly.
Mona glanced up from what she had been doing, and pretended that she'd just noticed me. Cute. She wasn't gonna win no beauty contests, but a guy wouldn't get sick lookin' at her either. She smiled back at me.
"Yes. My name's Mona. I just started a week ago."
When Mona straightened up, I saw that she had bigger titties than I'd first thought. She wasn't no Sophia Loren. But everything over a mouthful was wasted anyway. I liked the way she blinked her eyes. Kinda big, innocent like. Sexy.
"Yeah, well, tell ya what Mona. How's for givin' me a hand in the file room. Gotta look up some research. For a story."
Yea! I was gonna do some research all right. But on her. Mona was a pretty sharp chick. She dug what was happenin' right away. Blinkin' those baby blues of hers, she smiled prettily, got up, and headed for the back. I watched her cute little ass as she wiggled around the cluttered desks. Nice. Real nice. Charlie, the Composing Room Head, grinned at me as I passed his desk. He was an all right cat. Did his job, was good at it, and never took himself too serious. Top drawer guy. Right up front.
"Which file do you think it will be in?" Mona asked tranquilly. She looked cute, and kinda bubbly. She was gonna be all right. The broad knew I was gonna pole her, but she was goin' along with the bit. Just like a real trooper.
"Let's try that one there," I said, indicating one on the top. That way she'd have to reach a little, and I could help her. Yea.
Mona stretched herself to her full length, and could just barely touch the file drawer handle. Her lithe form was pulled taut. I moved in behind her, pressing her against the file cabinet. My dong pressed relentlessly into her soft, yielding ass. The warmth of her body aroused the shit outa me. She was nice all right.
"Let me help you," I murmured into her ear. She hummed a little as my meat pressed against her butt. I gently rotated my hips. She pushed herself back against me. Yea, she was gonna be all right. Just fine.
Pushing against her rear like that, I thought about Wanda. Last night I had thought about running my rod up her ass. Wanda didn't really dig that too much, and I had been so hot to trot that I'd decided not to make the effort. But this cuz seemed to be digging what I was doing. It had been a while since I'd cornholed a chick. With the right one, it was way out, man. Dig?
I moved right in. No sense wasting precious time. I didn't have too much. I didn't wanna be late seeing Holly. Dropping my hands to her hips, I massaged them sensuously. Mona sighed, pressing herself against my flesh even harder.
"Why Johnny," she cooed. "I thought you wanted to do some research ... in the files I mean."
I pulled her skirt up over her hips. Her white, nylon panties were full of youthful exuberance. What was inside of them that is. She tightened the muscles in her ass, squeezing the cheeks together. Man, she was some kinda hot cunt. She would be just fine.
"Yea, baby. I'm goin' do some research ... in your file."
She giggled, wiggling her ass. I liked the way she sounded. Warm, cuddly, excited. My other hand found her right tit. It was small, like I'd expected, but the nipple was soft, large. I teased it to life. It quickly sprang up hard, taut, pointed. Maybe Mona didn't have much in the knocker department, but what she did have was all hers, and all teeming sex. My joint was throbbing.
"Ohhhhh. That feels good. But wouldn't it be more fun if I turned around. So you can get at my business end?"
"I'm at your business end," I answered hotly. This little quail really had my motor running. The more I thought about running it up her backside, the better I liked the idea.
Mona got the idea in a hurry. She stopped squirming. It was obvious that she had thought I was just gonna fuck her, regular like. The idea of getting pole-axed in her back door hadn't really occurred to her. I couldn't tell for sure what her reaction was. Not that it really made a good fuck. But, sometimes it was nice to know what the cuz you were gettin' ready to put the blocks to was thinkin'.
"I ain't never done it like that," Mona said. Her voice was tight, a little frightened, uneasy. She wasn't gonna fight me about it, but on the other hand, she wasn't all that much in favor of it either. Mona was a good scout though. She was willin' to go along, even if she wasn't too sure about what it was gonna be like. I liked the bird. Really.
"Don't worry about that," I breathed in her ear, grinding my hips steadily into her ass. It's just' like gettin' it regular, only there ain't no chance of havin' no kid. I kneaded her tit furiously.
I could hear her gulp, breathe hard, then steel herself for what was to come. She reached behind her, grasped my cock, and began working it over. It didn't need much help though. It was ready for action just the way it was.
Her finger tips concentrated on the tip. I groaned, then whispered for her to take it out. She tried, but I had my fly pushed so hard against her nylon covered ass she couldn't reach the zipper. Reluctantly, I pulled back far enough for her to get to it. The sound of the zipper being worked sounded loud to me. I dry humped her harder.
The heat of Mona's hand made my whomper jump like crazy. She pulled it out, and the head was pressing against the taut fabric of her panties. I was almost shoving her drawers up her crack.
"Pull my panties down," she croaked hoarsely.
Grabbing the waistband with both hands, I quickly jerked them down around her thighs. The tip of my joint eased itself between the cheeks of her ass. She tried to bend over slightly, but the way I was holding onto her tit, she couldn't manage it. Repositioning myself, I allowed her to tilt forward slightly, never stopping the steady pressure of my dingus against her asshole. As she bent forward, the pointed arrow found entrance slowly to her bumhole. Mona groaned loudly, bent forward more, and spread her feet further apart. Yep! She was a good scout all right.
"It's gonna hurt," she protested weakly, her voice tight, strained, and a little frightened. I answered by pulling her into me even more, hunching down and ramming still more of my cock up her rearend. The bulging bulb finally popped through the wrinkled hole, quickly followed by three inches of shaft.
Mona squealed, began wiggling frantically, trying to dislodge me. I braced myself firmer, rammed my hips forward violently, and pulled her back into me even harder. More of my cock sank deeply into her ass, and she yelped clamorously. My hand shot to her mouth quickly, cupping over it, stiffing the cries she emitted.
"Mummmmm, Umughmmm, Oummmcummchm," she whimpered, as still more of my meat sliced into her virgin asshole. She was tight. Tight as hell. Man. She hadn't been bullshittin' when she'd said she hadn't been fucked in the ass before. My cock was hurtin' she was so close.
"Easy, baby, easy," I urged, grinding my hips sensuously. Once I had it in, I knew she would be all right. "Take it easy. When it's in, you'll be all right. Just relax, and let it go in. It'll be all right. You'll see. Jus' relax, and open yer legs a little more."
I had stopped pushing my dong into her. I kinda rocked back and forth then, lettin' her get used to the idea of havin' a cock up her ass. I let the shaft slide in and out about an inch, and as she got used to it, she stopped struggling so hard. Gradually I felt her muscles loosening, and she spread her feet further apart. I humped at her steadily, letting a little more sink in each time I drove forward. She groaned a little as more of it went in her, but she bent over more and more, spreading her legs as she did so. Glancing down, I saw that I had a little over half of my whang up her ass. Overcome, I drove hard at her.
Mona yelped shrilly. She tried to pull away from me, drawing her feet together, and grasping wildly at the filing cabinets. I held fast to her, not letting her get away.
"Relax! Take it easy, baby," I urgently whispered. "It'll be all right. Jus' let it go in natural like. It's all the way in already." The last was kinda a little white lie. Actually, I still had a good three inches to go. But by telling her that, I felt she would let herself go enough so that I wouldn't hurt her so much when I plowed it into her. What the hell. She was a nice kid. I didn't wanna hurt her no more than necessary.
"Oouuuu! It burns. Eeeeezzzzy! Shit. Man, you sure got some cock there. Don' ram me so hard, baby. Take it kinna slow until I get use' to it. That's it. Oouuuu!"
Mona was bent almost half over by now. Her cute little ass was wide open. I pumped into her steady. Takin' small, short, jabbing stabs at her, I lubed her good. She stopped flexing her ass muscles, and let it just ride in and out smoothly.
When I figured she was loose enough, I started easing the rest of my flesh into her. She hardly noticed. Not until I had all but the last inch. By then she'd figured out that I'd been puttin' her on, and she started backin' up again, tryin' to keep me from pouring the coal to her.
Deciding that the best thing to do would be jus' pound the whole column to her, I grabbed her tightly around the hips and slammed myself forward. I felt it sink in her the full length, until my hair was tickling her cheeks. Man, she squalled like a wounded cow.
"Yiiiiipppeeee!" she squealled, trying to pull herself away from my rod. I held fast to her, undulating steadily. Using fast, quick, jabbing motions I tried to get her used to having the prick up her ass. She squealled again, almost pulling a couple drawers outa the cabinet, and stood up on her tiptoes.
"Goddamn," she blurted. "Son-of-a-bitch, man. Take it easy, willya? Motherfucker, but that hurts. Easy! Oohhhh, I won't be able to shit for a week. Sonofa, sonofa, sonofabitch! That rod of yours is tearin' me open. Please, John ny. Pull it out a little. Huh? We can make it anyway, baby. Pull just a little out. Please! Oooouch!"
I could tell the chick was cryin' a little. What the fuck. She had been a good scout about the whole thing. I was so horny to pork a cunt up the back side I guess maybe I'd forgotten that my pole wasn't exactly a pencil. I eased offa her a bit. She stopped squirming so much, breathing hard. I reached my hand around her hips, found her clit, and began massaging it. It was firm, hard, and out-thrust. She was plenty worked up herself. The more I played with her, the more I kinda wished I'd fucked her the straight way. I had no doubt that she would be one hell of a good straight fuck.
But now that I already had my dingus up her shitter, I knew I would blow my load in her that way. No sense in tearin' her up though. I'd just sorta take it easy. I figured I'd plow a pretty deep furrow up her ass when I dropped my wad anyway.
"How's that? Better?" I breathed heavily. I was rockin' in and outa her steady, bein' careful not to plunge it all the way in. I could feel my come boilin' up inside, and reckoned it wouldn't take too much more before I spilled over.
"Ouuuu. Yea. 'at's better. A lit'le. It don' burn so much. Shitabrick. This's the first time I ever got cornholed. I didn't think it would hurt so bad. Maybe it's jus' cause you got such a bigg'n?" She rotated that cute little ass of hers, looking back over her shoulder at the same time. Smiling wanly, she said, "I sure would dig havin' it in my other hole."
"Yea. We'll have to make it that way sometimes too." I played with her clit faster keeping time with the steady in and out motion I had settled into. I could hear her breathing getting deeper. I knew that it wouldn't be long before she started bootin' one too.
Man she was tight. I was concentrating on shovin' just enough of my cock in her to keep her heaving. Thoughts of the caper kept filtering into my head though. What was gonna happen in a couple of days? Who were the hallelujah boys? Damn but Mona felt good. She was moaning steadily now, and her legs opened still more.
Her clit felt like it was gonna pop right outa her. She was rotating herself on my finger faster now. I dipped two fingers into her cunt, at the same time massaging her now with my thumb. Still pounding away at her ass, I felt her lurch, heard her gasp, then felt her flooding all over my hand.
"Ohhhh, shit, baby. I'm comin'! Give it to me Johnny. Give it to me good. Ahhhhh!"
Mona began bobbing up and down, loudly moaning, and rotating her ass wildly. Just then I felt my own gism foam over. I spurted it into her hole, at the same time driving myself as deeply into her ass as I could. She yelled but held tightly, and we shot off together; pounding, bouncing, driving, sliding, twisting in a frenzy of emotional paroxyms.
My hand was covered with the wet, sticky goo of her come. I rammed my fingers deep into her pussy, at the same time I plowed my joint hard into her bowels. I pumped at her as fast as I could, insanely reaching for a climactic zenith that seemed just out of reach. Son-of-a-bitch, but Mona was some kinda good asshole fucking.
At last our passions cooled. I moved my dick in and out of her slowly, enjoying the warming aftermath. Simultaneously, I gently rubbed the still extend button of her clit, exciting low moans of satisfaction from her. Her head was touching the file cabinets, and she sighed contentedly.
"That was good doll," I whispered in her ear. "How does our asshole feel? All right?"
"O.K., I guess," she breathed back. "Shit. You've really got a pecker on you baby. You damned near ripped me open when you shot your load in me. If I hadn't been comin' so fast myself, I don't know if I coulda taken it. Ohhhhh, but it felt good."
"Yea, great. We'll have to get together again sometime. Soon. But, for right now, I gotta move it. Gotta appointment with a cop. Important."
Gently, I withdrew my meat. It made a sucking sound as it came out, and Mona kinda grunted. Taking my handkerchief outa my back pocket, I quickly wiped my dingus clean of the dark brown stain. It pouted redly at me. I grinned. Motherfucker, but I really had banged her ass a good one.
When my dick came out of her, Mona slumped against the cold metal of the filing cabinets, and just leaned there, heaving heavily. Gradually she got her equilibrium back, and straightened herself. Reaching down, she pulled her panties back up. She had turned around first though, and I got a good glimpse of the soft, light brown hairs surrounding her pussy. The lips had still been swollen open, and I could see evidence of her come on the insides of her thighs. I also knew that she would have my come running outa her ass before long. Man, I'd really dropped a slogg of juice in her.
Mona grinned at me. She held her skirt up over her hips for a minute, making sure I got a real good look at what she had to offer at the other end. I looked. Nice. I made a point to remember to get back around to her again. This time in her cunt. She was all right, that Mona. All right indeed.
I made as if to hand her my hanky, but it was all covered with brownish stains, and she declined. "I'll have to go to the can anyway," she smiled. "Man, when you prong a girl, you really let her know she's had something in her. Fuck. I can feel the stuff starting to run out all ready. Gotta run. Can't afford to fuck up this dress. My 'ol lady'd kick the crap outa me if I came home with pecker tracks all over my skirt. Don' forget where I'm at, Huh? Come around again. Soon."
With that she turned and headed for the crapper. I watched her go, admiring the way her cute little ass swayed. Yep. Mona had been kinda good fuckin' all right. I could hardly wait until I got the chance to prong her up the cunny-hole. She would probably be twice as good there. Just thinking about it made me start gettin' all warm inside. Shit. I'd have to hurry and get the fuck outa there or I'd be late.
As I left the copy room, heading for the elevators, Charlie grinned at me again, and winked. I winked back. Charlie was all right. Right up front. I wondered how much fuckin' he was givin' Mona. Probably a lot. That chick was probably gettin' fucked three, four times a day. Maybe even more. One fuckin' thing for sure. She digs it the most. It's nice to have something like that around. Kinda takes the edge off things. Dig?
Jumping on my horse, I headed for Holly. It was already a quarter till ten. I just made it. When I walked in the door, Holly glanced at the wall clock, nodded his approval that I was on time for once, and headed for one of the rooms in the back. I followed along close behind.
"Gotta sit in on another deal first," Holly mumbled. From the way he said it, I had no doubt that he wasn't exactly too happy 'bout it either. I waited for him to go on.
"'ts a stakeout. Mayor's orders."
"Yea! Big? Que me in."
Holly looked disgusted, looked around to make sure no one was listening and told me the deal.
"Ya know we gotta 'curb your dog' law in this town? Well, it seems some careless citizen disobeyed that law. And, right in front of His Honor's pad. He came rushing out this morning, smiling like hell for the TV boys, as usual, and Wham-o! He stepped right in it. Right in front of the camera too. Man, is he some kinda hot. Called the Cornish early, raisin' all kind'sa hell. Said he wanted a stake out, and didn't want it pulled out until the Comish had caught the John Bircher son-of-a-bitch that'd sabotaged his Press Conference. They say he had dog shit all over his shoes. Both 'em. Screamin' like a fuckin' banshee. So, we gotta put a stakeout around his place until we get whoever did it. Then, and only then, can we get back to the business of tracking down any petty criminals who go around knockin' people in the head for their bread. Makes sense, don't it?"
The sarcastic manner was something new for Holly. I'd known the cat for a pretty good while, and figured I knew him about as well as anyone. I'd never seen him like this, although I knew that he didn't exactly think His Honor should get the "Leadership of the Year" award. But he seemed positively bitter.
I sat through the briefing session for the stakeout. Holly looked glum. I guess maybe I really couldn't blame him though. It was pretty dull.
I let my mind wander. I thought hard about what little we knew about the caper. It still didn't make a fucking bit of sense, and for the life of me I couldn't figure out how J.B. was gonna make a buck outa the deal. But, just the same, I had to assume that he'd figured out some way. Otherwise, he just wouldn't be in on the deal.
And what Tina had told us. The crescent shaped scar. That stuck in my mind, laying there like a heavy weight. There was something about that. I'd seen something like that somewhere. But where? I wracked my brain like crazy.
And the bit about the hallelujah boys. That was significant but I couldn't figure out how. Fleeting bits of the conversation flitted through the fog of my concentration. I reflected on how carefully everything was planned and rehearsed on a deal like this. I'd seen it done a hundred times before. That was the key. Split second timing, and down to the last detail planning. It was the only way a perfectly executed plan could be carr ... "
Bonanza! I had it. Sure. It was so fucking simple. Every thing fell into place like coffee grounds settling in the bottom of a cup. Why hadn't I thought of it before. Hell, the whole damned thing had been right there in front of me all along. It was so simple that it was downright diabolical. Just something like only J.B. would dream up. There were still one or two holes, but the majority of the plan was there. Especially the crescent shaped scar. I remembered where I'd seen it before, and once I remembered that, everything else dropped right into place.
Shirley! I had been feeling uneasy about that ever since it had happened. Let's face it, dad. The whole thing had just been too fuckin' coincidental. The fact she'd dropped her drawers in a quick hurry hadn't been so much a surprise. But, her being there just at that time, and being so fucking willing to come along, had stuck in my craw.
I remembered now noticing the crescent shaped little mark on her ankle when I'd opened her up on top of the desk. I had almost said something about it, but right then I'd been too busy thinking about prongin' her puss. Later, I'd forgotten about it. Now the whole thing came through like seeing a city after a fog lifted.
I fumbled in my pocket, and withdrew the list It was there all right. And, I could see where the dough angle fit in too. It would be worth millions ... hundreds of millions even, if J.B. could pull it off. The camera man, the several happenings, everything. Now all I had to do was find out where they had set up their deal.
I glanced at Holly. He was looking even glummer. I got up, trying to attract his attention. I didn't succeed. I should have stuck around. But I was too excited. Now that I had the key, I had to find out if I was right. I even knew why Shirley had been siced on me. Ten to one said I'd find a bug at my pad if I started lookin. But, they hadda make damn sure I was where they could keep an eye on me while they made the plant. J.B was smart. If I had pulled off the caper like he'd told me to, that was fine. But, if I hadn't, he wanted to know about it. If I had though, he didn't want to get me worked up again by having me stumble onto a couple of his goons planting a snooper in my pad.
Deciding that I wouldn't be able to get Holly's attention, I dashed out of the room. I paused long enough to tell the guy at the desk to let Holly know I was chasing something hot. I started to leave a note, but was so excited I just couldn't sit still long enough. I had it. Goddamn it, I'd put the pieces together and they spelled R-A-T, in great big caps. And they all pointed to the crummiest rat of them all-J.B.
The first order of business would be to find Shirley. So far, she was my only direct link to the gang. I'd get the story out of her if I had to break her fuckin' ass open.
Consulting my "happiness manual" I got her address. I put in a quick call to the paper. Just as I figured. She wasn't there that day. I hadn't thought she would be. That close to the payoff day, she'd be at home either resting, or going over the plans for the big one. I could almost kiss His Honor, the phony fuck. If he hadn't stepped in that dog shit, I might never have tumbled to the meaning of the deal. Once I'd figured out why Purdy, and Collins, and all the others, the rest was easy.
In spite of myself, I had to admire the cocksucker. He was one shrewd bastard to have thought of a deal like this one. No wonder I hadn't been able to pin it down. No one, but I mean no one, would have tumbled onto it until it was all over with, and of course, by then, it would have been too late. Now all I had to do was get to their setup, confirm that the splicers, movie equipment, and all the rest was there. If it was, then I would know for sure that I'd pegged the deal right. If I had, J.B. would get time for this deal. That was for sure. He'd get at least thirty days, and maybe even more ... in spite of his connections.
I jumped in my heap, jammed the key in the ignition, and turned it on. Nothing happened. I turned it several more times. Still nothing. Not even a hum, a click, nothing. I couldn't figure out what it was. I wiggled the key around several times, but still no life. Hot under the ass, I got out and looked under the hood.
I got the answer to that mystery in a hurry too. Some dirty no good, chicken-fuckin', ass-kissin', shit-eatin', pudpumpin', dick-lickin', Mayor-lovin', sonofabitchin' cocksucker had stolen my goddamn battery, cables and all.
It was my own fault though. I knew better than to park my bus in front of the fuckin' fuzz house. Might as well put a sign on it sayin' 'come and get it!' Hell, sometimes they even stole the tires off the fuzzmobiles.
Casting grave doubts upon the ancestry of certain unknown persons, and fantasizing about gleefully forcing them to drink a pint of Chinese mustard, without a chaser, but mixed with a quart of caster oil, I took my life in my hands and indulged in that favorite New York past-time, when one wants to waste time, of trying to find a cab.