Chapter 1

Pauline Parker picked up the telephone. She dialed the office of the mayor of Eastport.

"May I help you?" the Mayor's new secretary asked.

"Hello, dear. This is Mrs. Parker," Pauline began in her sweetest tone of voice. "Might I speak to my husband?"

"I am sorry, Mrs. Parker. Mayor Parker is in conference right now. He left instructions not to be disturbed. I can ask him to get back to you, though."

"Oh, dear, but it is rather important. If you might just buzz him for a sec, I'd be so grateful."

The secretary sounded unsure. "Well, he did leave strict instructions, but I'll see."

"You're so kind," Pauline said. "You're a treasure."

A few minutes later Mayor Chuck Parker picked up the phone. "What is it, Pauline?"

"I want you to get your ass back home and stick that big cock of yours up the first hole you run into!"

"Pauline! How many times have I told you not to do this! Someone could be on the other extension. What the hell is the matter with you?"

"I just miss you, Chuckie. I need it. That big meat of yours. I want to lick it up and down. I want to feel it inside my mouth, close my lips on tip of it. Ooooh, Chuckie, come home now!"

"Pauline, I am the Mayor of one of the largest cities in the United States. I have other things on my mind besides sex, sex, sex."

"You're telling me," Pauline said bitterly.

"That's right, I'm very busy. But you, Pauline, you're too much! You even woke me up in the middle of the night the way you were sucking on it. What the hell is the matter with you lately?"

"What's the matter with me? What's the matter with you! I'm a healthy red-blooded American girl! I'm twenty-seven years old. And it's been so long since we..."

"Yeah, I saw four years ago. I want it now! Come home now, Chuckie. I'm lying here now thinking of you."

"Pauline!"

"I'm thinking of your hard tongue thrusting through my twat. Oooh, my pussy is purring at the thought. My lips are watering!"

"Pauline, that's enough!"

"Hear her? Hear my little pussy? Let me put the phone a little closer. Talk to her. Tell her how you'd love to come home, get away from those nasty old meetings, and eat my pussy. Say it into the phone, Chuckie."

"Pauline, you're demented! You forget I'm the Mayor of one of the largest cities in the United States. I curse the day I ever met a screwed-up nympho like you!"

"Screwed up! Oooh, Chuckie. Come home and screw me up! Up against the wall. Up against the refrigerator! Anywhere! Stick that meat in as far as it goes. Anywhere!" Pauline was panting now, but the voice sounded distant. Chuck knew where the telephone was!

"I'm hanging up, Pauline."

"You hang me up, you mother-fucker, and I'll use this telephone for something else, besides poking inside my pussy. I'll call the newspapers and get your ass in hot water like I did last time. My telephone calls are famous in this city, or have you forgotten?"

"Pauline, you better get ahold of yourself. My election campaign is starting over. I don't need any kind of trouble. You better not make any of those phone calls. The reporters will eat me up alive!"

"Oooh, Chuckie, come home and eat me up alive. I'm not kidding, I really need it! I need to feel that big member swelling hard in my mouth. I need that hot tongue swimming through my cunt. Come home, I'm warning you!"

"I said I'm hanging up. Now don't bug me!" Chuck slammed the phone down hard, hard enough to send a bolt of noise up Pauline's duct.

"Ooh, baby," she moaned, slowly easing the black telephone out of her tingling twat.

That bastard, she thought. That mother-fucker bastard! What had he said to her-don't bug me! What nerve! To talk to her like that. Don't bug me, indeed!

Well, I will bug him, Pauline decided. She grabbed the telephone and began to dial her favorite reporter on the Eastport Gazette.

She'd give him a hell of a story! Tell him she and His Honor disagreed about the war in Indochina. That would upset Chuck!

But then Pauline put the phone back down. No, there was something else involved here. Why was Chuck always so reluctant to have sex with her? Why did he always hold back? When they had first married-five years ago-he was as hot as a stud, filled with piss and vinegar. And she was the right filly for a stomping stallion! But now it was always the wrong time for him.

Was it the tensions of a new campaign? Was that what was making him so unaggressive?

Or was there something else? Someone else, perhaps that new secretary. It could be anyone. The handsome young Mayor was always surrounded by beautiful women.

Pauline bit hard on her lips. If she found out her husband was cheating on her, she'd-what would she do? It couldn't be true, she laughed. No need to worry.

But it was true. A healthy man never wanting sex with her. It had to be true. Chuck was cheating on her!

Pauline fought back the tears. This wasn't the time for them. This was a time for strength, not weakness!

This was a time for one more phone call!

Dean Crawford was the man Chuck Parker would be running against in the upcoming election. He was thirty-five years old, and thirty-five times a millionaire. Most of the polls agreed that Mayor Parker would have a tough time beating this dynamic young opponent.

Chuck Parker had beaten him once before. Seven years ago, Dean Crawford had been engaged to a beautiful red-haired girl from Colorado. But they had double-dated and double-crossed. And Pauline had left Dean for Chuck Parker.

Pauline watched through the window as Dean Crawford pulled up in his shiny orange sport scar.

Orange, she thought. What a lucky sign! Orange was her color. Her long, copper hair, her pride and joy, was a brilliant shade of orange, really. And all her hair was orange-red. That's why she lived in a room with wall-to-wall orange carpeting. She'd actually brought a sample of her snatch hair to the rug company. They had to match perfectly.

In Pauline Parker's boudoir, what you saw was What you got!

Pauline went to her closet and selected a flimsy, lacy black housedress. She looked at her reflection in the mirror. Fine, she thought. Not too different from the little college girl Dean had known. A little fuller, perhaps. More of a woman-a woman of the world.

"Pauline! Pauline Shmutz!" Dean rushed forward to throw his arms around her.

"It's Pauline Parker now. And you can leave," she said to the curious houseboy who was lingering in the hallway.

Pauline walked over to close the bedroom door. "Dean, it's so good to see you, after all these years."

"How many years is it?"

"Gee, Dean, I wonder. When I last saw you I was seventeen. Today I'm twenty. It's been three years for me, but ten on the calendar."

Dean laughed heartily. "Well, I'm a calendar man, and ten years is a long time,"

"You're a scotch man, too, if I remember correctly."

"You're right, Pauline," Dean smiled, accepting the proffered glass. "I'm still wild about scotch. There's nothing I'd rather taste than straight scotch," he confided, emptying the tumbler.

"Nothing?" Pauline asked slyly.

"Not by a mile. It's my favorite taste."

"Well, then, let me refill it." Pauline took the glass from him and walked back to the bar.

Dean stared at her as she poured the drink. What a beauty she still was! Those great mounds of breasts rising from the housedress as she bent down to pour the drink. Her firm body was shown off to perfection by the housedress. Long legs, the kind a man would like to feel wrapped tight around his thrusting body.

If only he knew how she felt about him, after all these years. After all, he had to be careful. She was the Mayor's wife. He couldn't just make an innocent pass at her. They weren't kids anymore.

Dean gulped as he felt the waves of lust burning from his loins. He shouldn't have taken that drink on an empty stomach. He should never have done that. But it was too late to turn back now.

Pauline came up close to him. "Here you go, handsome." She handed him the new drink. "You're still crazy about scotch, I see. Well," she lifted her own glass, "bottoms up!"

Dean gulped down the drink as he watched Pauline sink her own succulent bottom into the chair near the bed.

"Dean, you're probably wondering why I called you here, after all these years. Well, I was never one to beat around a bush," she began, in her sexiest voice.

Dean's whole body was a burning flame, burning faster and hotter. Every word she said turned him on. "Bottoms up" and "beat around my "bush." What did her bush look like, he wondered. He'd never gotten to see it in college. Was it the same color as the long red hair that fell freely down her shoulders, the same color as the soft, downy rug that covered this room. He couldn't really see it. Not the way she had her legs crossed. If only she'd...

"Dean, are you all right?"

"Huh? Oh, excuse me. I was just thinking about the old days. Sorry. You were saying?"

"I hadn't said it yet. But I will now. I called you here because I want to make you the next Mayor of Eastport. I want to help you defeat my husband."

"What!"

"You heard me right. Let me freshen your drink," she said, rising from the seat and taking Dean's empty glass.

"But he's your husband," Dean gasped.

Pauline smiled from the bar. "I know someone else who might be my husband today, if it hadn't been for a double-crossing friend. That's right. A double-crosser. Not just you, Dean. Me, too." She blushed deep red as she handed him the drink.

"You mean Chuck cheated..."

"A man who'll cheat on his best friend will cheat on his wife, too," Pauline answered simply. "But that's enough of that. Let's talk about us. Finished the drink already?"

Dean laughed, holding up the empty tumbler.

Pauline smiled. "I'm a slow drinker. See?" She licked the edge of her martini glass daintily with her pink tongue. "Maybe that's because I'm just a little girl. But you drink so fast. Is that because you're a great big man?" she laughed.

Dean tried to laugh too.

"Let's see how big your tongue is, Dean," Pauline said. "Why don't you open your mouth?"

Dean opened his mouth. "Wider, honey. I can't see." Dean gulped and opened it wider. "Ooh, you do have a big, wet one. I mean, a big tongue. That must be why you lap things up so fast."

Dean closed his mouth and, already dizzy from the scotch, he bit his tongue.

"Ouch!"

"Silly boy, what have you done?" Pauline bent over to look. "Show me where it hurts. Let me kiss it and make it all better."

Pauline took his tongue in her mouth and rubbed her own against it. Dean closed his eyes, wild with lust. He was about to throw his arms around her, when Pauline released his tongue and stood up.

"One more, for old time's sake," she laughed, walking slowly to the bar. Dean watched her succulent ass move underneath that damn housedress.

He loosened his shirt collar. "It's hot in here, isn't it, Pauline?"

"This drink will cool you off, honey," Pauline called from the bar. "I'll put a nice, cold ice cube in it. You can lap it up with that quick tongue of yours."

I know where I'd love to put that quick tongue of mine, Dean thought. Right up the quick of her downy twat! Right up into the reaches of her tangy...

"Here you go, Dean," Pauline said, shaking him out of his reverie. "Honestly, the way you drink scotch! What have you got inside you, a scotch tapeworm!"

Pauline laughed uproariously at her own very mild joke. In the process of laughing, she spilled Dean's new drink on her housedress.

"Oh, shit, and that's the very last bit of scotch we have in the whole Mayor's Mansion!"

"Never mind, Pauline," Dean consoled her. "I feel pretty good already," he laughed. Then he hiccuped. "Excuse me, I'm just a little dizzy."

"Now don't try to spare my feelings. I know how you love scotch. If we act fast ... " She grabbed Dean's neck and guided his head down to her box. "Try to taste it. Quick!"

"What the-" Dean didn't Understand.

"Hurry up! That's it," Pauline purred. "Lick the scotch off my dress. Lick it up! Lap it!"

Dean's head was pounding with waves of lust, pounding and raging within him. He began to lick the borders of Pauline's night dress.

"Do you taste it?" Pauline asked, her own tongue licking her lips. "Do you taste it, baby?"

"I don't taste anything," Dean said, in a choked, childish voice.

"Oooh," Pauline purred softly. "I'm disappointed. Maybe it already seeped through underneath."

"I want to taste it," Dean whined. "I want to taste it!"

"Easy, honey," Pauline comforted him, stroking his hair with one hand, while with the other she opened her housedress to the waist. "Go ahead, lick it up. See if any of that good taste is down there." Pauline guided his throbbing head down to her white panties.

"Good taste?" Dean asked. "Oh, you mean the scotch."

Pauline laughed. "Whatever you find down there has gotta be good," she purred, holding his head in her hands.

Dean gulped as he saw in front of him Pauline's panties. They were as white as ivory. As white as the white skin of her thighs, now also revealed to him. Thighs bursting with succulent juicy flesh and good times.

All that whiteness! It blinded him, like a snowstorm, and there in the middle of the white field was the tantalizing hint of something copper, glowing red, like the hot sun. A soft, silky forest of coiled copper.

"Lick! Lick, you," Pauline commanded, pushing with her hands, applying pressure on Dean's throbbing temples.

Dean extended his tongue, but although he could already smell the pungent perfume of Pauline's pussy juice, he couldn't taste anything. Just the cold silkiness of her panties. The vibrant warmth of her cunt was across that last border.

"I don't taste anything," he stammered. "Just elastic."

Pauline sounded disappointed again. "What, no scotch down there? None of that good juice down there?"

"I don't taste scotch. And I feel awful," Dean whined, like a nagging schoolboy.

"Well, there's only one place left where it could've disappeared into. And I'm going to help you find it!"

Pauline pushed his head away for a second. Dean gulped for fresh air as he saw her peel off her panties to reveal all of her mysteries to him.

"Go ahead!" she laughed shrilly. "Go down and eat up!"

She grabbed his head in her hands and planted a soft, encouraging kiss on his lips. Her tongue sought out his and they wrestled together in his mouth.

Then she pulled her head back and gestured where she wanted him to go. "Oh, take that tongue and come into my cunt! Oh, yes!" She laughed as she saw him lowering his head obediently and eagerly.

Dean could smell the exotic offering in front of him. He began kissing her pussy hairs. He'd take large clusters of those copper coils in his mouth, each time a larger cluster, A red, fiery cunt! That's what those red hairs meant! Her cunt was on fire! And he'd waited ten years to get at it! Ten years! But now he'd come here, the fireman and he'd put out the fire in her red, torrid twat.

"Take it. Eat. Lick with your tongue."

Pauline was writhing in pleasure and anticipation. But Dean just sucked with his mouth. He did not let his tongue venture into those foreign streams. Not yet.

"Lick, lick, you prick!"

Dean watched Pauline wriggle beneath him, like a fish out of water. Oh, how she wanted his tongue, his little mouth-cock to eat her out. Not yet, he thought.

Pauline's fingernails dug into his back. She was writhing in an agony of ecstasy. "Lick!

Lick, you prick! Twit my clit! Lap my labia!"

He finally opened his mouth and his hot tongue came out. like a snake heading for the deep, warm earth, it headed for the opening of Pauline's tortured twat.

Pauline shrieked as she felt it enter her, that hot tongue, that moist muscle from the mouth was exploring the cavity of her cunt. She spread her legs farther apart and grasped Dean's head with them, to force them deeper into her duct.

"Oh," Pauline moaned with pleasure. "Oh, Dean, eat my hot twat. Oh, yes, oh, do it, do me.

Now Dean became aware of another member of the family who wanted to get in on the action. His huge cock was swelling hard under his trousers. And as Dean saw the pleasure that his tongue gave as he coiled through her cunt, so he wanted Pauline's moist lips to eat out his sex.

Pauline wrapped her thighs tighter around Dean's head. He could feel the blood pounding through his temples. She kept squeezing her thighs tighter around him, sucking his tongue into her quivering, trembling twat.

With a fierce athletic lunge, Dean twisted his six-foot frame around in the bed. Without removing his tongue from his dream girl's twat, he shifted his lower half around so that his pulsing prick was battering at the gates of Pauline's pursed lips.

"Blblbl," he stammered, his mouth still filled with her pussy. Would she know what he wanted?

Pauline knew all right. Purring and moaning with joy, she undid his belt and slipped the surging sex out of his boxer shorts, into her hand.

Dean quivered as he felt her fingernails feeling his tool.

Oh, shit, take it in your mouth, he prayed. Don't let me down!

Pauline tickled his tool with her fingernails. Dean groaned into her pussy. The tease! The temptress! The twat! Take it in your mouth like I'm eating you, he wanted to scream. One good turn deserves another, doesn't it?

But Dean had no power over this liberated Amazon. His head was in her pussy, his cock was in her power! He was powerless, swooning with tortured lust as Pauline alternately gripped and then relaxed the grip on Dean's throbbing member. But she refused to guide it home, into her warm mouth.

But then she did it! Slowly at first, very slowly, she bent down and licked just the head. She licked it with a flickering movement of her tongue that sent chills up Dean's nerve fibers. His whole body felt those first licks-the chilling quivers raced up his cock, through his nervous system, into his brain-it exploded in him, forcing him to dig deeper with his tongue into Pauline's endless pussy.

Blow me, he thought. Get in there and suck!

Pauline licked her way down his throbbing tool. Then she went down and licked his balls with her lips, the way he had peeled her own pussy hairs.

Do it, suck it, eat it! Dean wanted to scream at her. He wanted to throw his powerful arms around her soft white swan's neck. He wanted to see that beautiful face go down on his scorching sex. He wanted to see Pauline's flame-colored hair part like a curtain to show his big meat in her mouth.

Pauline threw back her red hair like a proud wild mare would throw back its mane. She opened her sensuous mouth wide and took his big dick in her mouth. Took it in a way no other girl had ever done-proud, free, wild, on fire! like a wild mare, he thought!

Oh Jesus, Dean thought, I'm going to shoot right away!

But Pauline sensed this. She knew how to take him just up to climax, then let him slip into a lower gear. All the time she undulated her own hips around him, reminding him that she was also on the menu.

Tongue in twat-mouth on muscle-they thrashed about on the floor. They were like two wild animals. Two tigers. Pauline's strong thighs were fast around Dean's face, forcing his tongue deeper into her flooding honey hole.

Finally he knew he could control it no longer-he felt it welling up inside him, swelling up inside his belly, his viscera-the hot white come that he wanted her to take in her mouth. Oh shit, how he wanted to feel her fellate him-to see her swallow his hot load-to know that his come was on her tongue, in her throat, sliding down to her belly.

They rolled on the floor, two wild devils, sucking each other into oblivion. Dean felt it coming up inside him. But Pauline seemed like she could go on forever, sucking till doomsday-sucking off the Devil himself.

It's coming, Dean thought, I'm coming. I feel it. He tried to hold it back a few seconds, tried to keep it just ...

With a spasm of speechless thrusting, Dean shot down Pauline. As they climaxed together, their bodies dissolved into one mound of sizzling flesh, and so strong was the spasm of their climax, that they rocked a few inches above the floor, and came down hard on their buns as they finished coming inside each other. Dean felt the impact of falling had forced an extra sum of come out of him, and he lay back spent and satisfied inside her.

They lay together for some time on the soft rug. Now it would always remind Dean of the soft down of Pauline's silken thatch.

Then Pauline got up, slowly easing herself out of Dean's steely embrace. With the grace of a dancer, she crossed over to the bar on the other side of the room.

"I don't have any more scotch. But I think we should have one last drink," she said in her soft, silky voice. She poured two glasses of champagne.

"Anything you say, Baby," Dean smiled. "And I mean that, anything."

Pauline crossed back to him and extended her marble-white arm with the glass of bubbling pink champagne.

"A toast," she began. "To Dean Crawford. Next mayor of Eastport. Or I'll eat my words-and there are other things I'd rather eat." Pauline finished the drink in one swallow. "Drink up, Your Honor."