Chapter 7
Wearing only their shorts--"my naked ass sticks to chair seats," Del had laughed--John and the strong, slender young man from Anaheim lounged at the kitchen table while Pam and Marina ran hot water over the breakfast dishes and slipped them into the dishwasher.
The Fredericks' decision to spend the night had been easily made--the six friends had played and laughed and sucked and fucked until two or three in the morning, and John's invitation, backed by Pam's warmth toward their new acquaintances, seemed much more reasonable than a ninety-mile drive. And something John had said carried weight.
"When I learned that John was a professor of psychology, and making a survey on sex habits, I just had to stay and talk to him," Marina confided to Pam, her heart-shaped little face serious. Her husband, nodding toward the two nude girls, gave John a smiling wink.
John smiled at all of them. "Right now," he said, picking words carefully, "I'm trying to relate to multiple sex, trying to gather firsthand knowledge that equates the sex drive with the concave or the convex. As a professional, I found that the disciplines of my work segregated me from the short end of the lever, not relating, actually, to the related disciplines of effect, and seeing cause through the eyes of others."
"That's certainly wonderful, John," the well-stacked little brunette said politely. "At least, I think it is. But after you do this relating, what happens?"
Her husband grinned at her. "John told us that he and Pam were new to swapping, doll," he said. "He's into it--'relating' is his word--to find out whether the man or the woman starts it. He says that an educator's work keeps him from being where the action is, forces him to read about it instead of doing it. Is that better?"
Marina laughed. "I'm concave, you're convex," she said. She came over and patted John's prick through his shorts. "And you want to know whether it was me or Del who decided to start swinging--right?"
John, embarrassed, nodded. "If you can recall," he said.
The visitors looked at each other, obviously puzzled.
"We started when we'd been married a year," Marina mused. "That would be--what--five years ago? A lot has happened since then, John," she smiled. "Del met a guy through his work--a fellow who seemed to be happy with his sex life. He came home all fired up and told me about swinging. But I don't know which one of us said 'okay, let's swing!' Do you remember, Del?"
The dark young man shook his head. "Can't remember."
"But you wrote the letters," John pressed, looking at Marina, who smiled and shrugged.
"I wrote the letters and sent the pictures to the swap magazines, too," she said. "But that's because Del simply hates to write. He's busy all day, working with straights--that's why he wears those fancy clothes," she grinned. "At heart, he's a long-haired, beard-wearing, barefooted hippie. Aren't you, love?" she demanded.
Her husband smiled patiently. "Maybe so," he admitted. "I'm more relaxed inside than I am on the streets. Got to make a living, you know."
Marina left John's cock, which had risen and poked its red head out from his fly, and moved around the kitchen table to hug Del's head against her full breasts. "He's so great," she said softly. "He busted his ass for years, trying to keep us eating, working for one-toilet, one-coffee pot radio stations. Now that he's got it made, we are enjoying it."
"And taking a little time off to rebuild our energies with new people--that's one of our enjoyments," Del laughed.
"I'm beginning to see that it works," John said. "I had some dumb ideas--taken from other people. Pam knows." He smiled at his blonde assistant, who leaned against the dishwasher, the soft flesh of her ass creased by it.
"John wouldn't believe he could do it twice on the same hard-on without physical or psychological damage," Pam smiled. "That's why I urged him to get out where it was happening."
Marina giggled. "I know how he could do it to two women on one hard-on," she said.
At his inquiring look, she told John: "Look, you showed last night that you could fuck forever, practically, without spilling it. Right?"
"Sure," John laughed. "But that was after I had already fucked a time or two. What's on your mind, innovator?"
"Well, if we can find a place where all four of us can lie down--comfortably, I mean--you and Del can rotate between me and Pam," Marina said earnestly. "I know you're both pretty well done up, after last night. But I'm ready, right now, and from what I saw of Pammie last night, she's a hot kid."
The miniature woman, all her curves moving and wiggling, moved over and slipped her hand, flat, thumb up, between Pam's legs, gently sawing it up to part the blonde-furred lips. She squealed happily and held her hand up. It was dripping.
"Pam's ready!" she cried. "Where do we do it?"
Pam, her eyes hot, pulled the smaller woman against her, bending her head to kiss the nipples on each of the round, firm breasts, almost too large for such a small frame. "Keep those goodies away from me," she threatened, "or I'll chew them right off you!"
From her five feet of stacked warmth, Marina's baby face glowed up at Pam's. "You try anything with me and I'll suck your ovaries right out of your guts!" she whispered, and she and Pam clung together in a quick burst of understanding love.
"Okay, we wait for our chance," Pam whispered. "But we ought to play some mother-and-father right now, maybe."
They frolicked out into the rear patio, for Pam had said she hadn't been fucked outdoors, in broad daylight, since she was a college freshman. There was a big pool of sun-flecked shade under the pepper trees, and they drew three chaise pads together, forming a bed of more than king size. There they rolled and tumbled like puppies, and Pam, plunging between Marina's legs, got a mouthful of fat and dark-haired lips, wet with the oozing flow from between them, biting down with playful sadism, making Marina squeal with joy.
But Pam's ass was up for grabs, and Del Fredericks, his cock like a red-tipped spear, plowed into her with a force that drove her clear across the tumbling curves of his wife, and the bi-sexual meal was over, for the moment. And John, surprised to find his buried interest so easily raised, pulled the small girl's chubby thighs apart, holding one leg high to spread the pink slit, and artfully screwed his big cock into her, pulling her against him like drawing a glove onto a thick finger.
Nobody counted how many times the girls made it, but when Del, unmistakably excited by the sight of his wife's twat twirling on John's heavy cock after their ninth or tenth shift of partners, blew his big load into Pam, their cries touched off a mutual explosion in the loins of the other two, and they lay laughing and spent, closing their eyes against the pinpoints of sunlight which move as the wind moved the tree limbs.
Del was the first to move. "It's close to noon," he said, "and I've got to get our car serviced. I'd stay another night, but I've got an appointment at three--big advertiser."
The bedroom was cool and quiet and dark after the brightness outdoors, and Pam and Marina lay companionably on the dark-blue spread, with Marina's left knee drawn up over Pam's face, her hands clenched as the blonde's tongue dipped lovingly into her opened cunt.
"There's a lot of juice in here," Pam whispered, and Marina giggled: "Take it, it's yours by law--your husband shot it up there!"
"I love it so," Pam answered. "Roll over and squat just above me," Pam coaxed. "That way, I won't miss a drop."
"Suck real hard, baby," Marina urged, once her fat little cunt was in place. She pulled at the two firm breasts below her, smiling as Pam's groans made good vibes in her vagina. "Get right on the hole and try to turn me inside out. I love that pulled-out feeling. I may come before you even get to my clit!" She reached for the other girl's cunt, almost falling from her strained position, and Pam gave her a fierce pinch on her taut rump to correct her. "Lay off, Pammie," Marina begged. "I don't dig the pain bit!"
She shuddered as she felt the walls of her cunt pulled together by Pam's suction, and fell forward on her hands, pushing the opened twat back so Pam's tongue wrapped around her bud.
"Ooh, God!" she groaned, feeling the rising spasm shake her. In her lust, she spread Pam's cuntlips apart with nothing more than her face, getting a thick wash of goo across cheeks and lips, forming her tongue into an imitation prick to prong into Pam's quivering hole. She fell and rolled, bringing Pam with her, and moved down to suck the semen out of the darkness of Pam's vagina.
She squirmed around, then, pointing to her puffed-out cheeks, and Pam's mouth went open, receiving the slickness and warmth of Del's sperm, pushed into her greedy, drooling mouth by Marina's tongue.
They lay silent and adoring in each others arms, tit on tit, the soaked twats together, rubbing gently.
"When did you turn bi-sexual?" Marina whispered, and Pam, laughing, said: "I'm only about sixty-forty, but I've been that way ever since my older sister snowed me the way. I like men the most, at least I think so. But I like anything that feels good, and a girl that knows what to do can be better than a man in some ways. How about you?"
Marina humped her ass closer to Pam's mouth, and moaned as the blonde's tongue swirled around her clit. "I was straight all the way until our first swinging date," she whispered into the steamy, aromatic gap between Pam's thighs. She sucked briefly and raised her streaming mouth, laughing. "I guess I never had noticed how lovely my own pussy was," she said, "until I saw another woman's in action. Wow! How I dug it!" She pushed Pam's knees so far apart that the big tendons up the thighs stood out like cables, and plunged her mouth down into the pink nest of squirming lips. She sucked hard on Pam's clit, and jumped in response as her own bud was nipped between the blonde girl's gentle teeth.
They rolled in spiraling passion, mouths glued to cunts, and lay quietly, their lust receding.
Pam patted and rubbed tenderly on the firm thighs near her face, kissing the soft, smooth flesh, then biting it in gentle savagery. "We're lucky that John went along with Del," she murmured, and Marina laughed.
"I suggested it," the small girl said. "I even gave him a list--I said it was what you needed. Oil, tomato paste, mushrooms, spaghetti, French bread. You can always eat that stuff--you don't mind, do you?"
Pam gently pulled the fat cuntlips wide open, laughing at the clustered pinkness, the twitching dark hole, with its clear leakage of moisture.
"And I don't always get a chance to eat stuff like this," she said, pressing her hot mouth down into the crimson hole.
John, slowly making his unaccustomed way along the aisles of the supermarket, panning his gaze from shopping list to shelf, turned an apologetic look up as his cart bumped into another. And got the shock of his life.
It was his life turned around, a false face scaring him from across a fence three years tall, a face as angry as it used to be, but, he flashed a thought, beautiful in anger.
Helen! Helen a wee bit more mature. Had her breasts always had that full convexity on their upper slopes? Had her waist always nipped in to spread so widely into flared hips? His eyes took in the outward curve of warm belly, the swinging down toward the pubic triangle, where remembered thickness of dark-curled hair puffed with lying invitation above a cunt he knew was cold.
But her eyes drew his, and they were not cold. Hot, but not with love. "Watch where you're going!" her lips formed words too quiet to hear. But a few words were ready.
"Helen!" he mouthed automatically. "Sorry! Forgive me--it was clumsy." He laughed apologetically, automatically angered that this flush of apology should superimpose itself on a new-found sexual independence. "Nice to see you--I'm here for the summer, you know." Despising himself for this meaningless courtesy, offered, he well knew, only as a sop to meaningless anger.
He still was numbed by the coincidence more than by her reaction, but animal wariness sharpened his senses so that he heard the breathed words as though they had been shouted.
"Here for your filthy orgies," she hissed. "You and your hot pants tramps!"
She whirled away, and he could not help registering the full beauty of her divided rump, crowding her shopping costume of stretch pants, halter top, and sandals. Even in his dwindling shock, he saw what he had missed before--the animal herded into the cramped walls of censored emotions.
But her last reply? Orgies? That meant she had seen--what? And with whom?
He checked out his two big bags of staples and found a phone. Both Carol and Jim were home. He framed a question.
"Why, yes," Carol answered. "Rovere's wife is named Helen, come to think of it. She's in the local news once in a while. Yeah, she's been here about three years, I guess. They got married, it seems to me, right after she moved here. Why?"
Suddenly all of John's blood, retarded by the shocking confrontation, sang through his body. "Nothing much, Carol," he laughed. "An old enemy. I'll tell you about it later."
He could not credit his own senses! Helen, married almost three years ago! That meant--it had to mean--that she had contracted a bigamous marriage! He had her by the balls--figuratively speaking, of course.
Confidence and courage are not inherent--they are often the by-product of another happening, the removal of fear. In spite of the aplomb of Jim and the others, and although his lust had carried him above fear last night, John had inherited a staunch and upright fear of the police and the law. But now, secretly fortified with this knowledge of Helen's apparent lawlessness, his fears of the deputy were gone.
He had not told Pamela--he could not have said just why. He thought of Helen's action in terms of sex--living with a man would have to be on a sexual basis. He found this oddly touching, amusing, and, somehow, thrilling that Helen, of all people, would be moved by sex. She had always been as uptight about it as he had. And here she was, illicitly living with this dumb, prying, censorious, crusading deputy.
But he found the courage to banter with Pam. After the Fredericks had left. This morning, he might not have had the savoir-faire to mention it.
"You aren't using a new lipstick, are you, Pam?" he asked, obviously teasing. "There was a completely new--what can I say?--flavor, scent, taste on your lips when Del and I got back from the market."
Pam cocked a merry eye at him. "Can you give me a clue?" she asked. "You know I don't wear lipstick. With your cool, scholarly mind, couldn't you identify it?"
He forced himself to say it, not at all certain that it could be true. "It was something like--well, pussy!" he said.
"Fancy your being so sharp!" the girl exclaimed. "Professor, you've come a long way! And you're so right! I found--Marina and I both found--that we craved a bit of girl fun. So we had it!"
John, having learned a great truth about himself--that a lot of what would have shocked him before had turned out to be enormous fun, struggled inwardly at accepting bi-sexuality. And won the struggle, his victory being heralded by a quick stirring of his cock.
"I wish I could have seen it," he declared. "Pam, I vote for voyeurism as one of the strongest aphrodisiac factors in multiple sex!"
She rubbed against him joyously. "And you wouldn't mind your assistant's assistance in the study?" she inquired. "Okay, John, maybe I can work something out. Melissa's about due. Between the two of us, we have enough of a cast for a circus!"
That part of John's gathering of material came easily.
Pam greeted Melissa with a long, tonguing kiss, warmly squeezing the young girl's boobs, so that the redhead clung to her rapturously, her breathing suddenly much faster.
"Take it easy, Pam," Melissa gasped, "or we'll have to call John in for help!"
"Pooh!" Pam laughed. "Who needs him?" She rolled her eyes suggestively. "Any fire that I start, I can put out!"
Melissa looked at her curiously. "Oh, come on, Pam," she protested. "You're no Lez. I'm not knocking it, you understand," the girl said hastily. "It's just that you--well, you seem so normal! Or is that the wrong thing to say?"
Pam gave her a painfully pleasant pinch on her muscled rump. "You amaze me, cutie," she said. "I thought you modern kids were with it. Haven't you ever wished you were an acrobat, so you could lick yourself? Honestly?"
Melissa flushed, but laughed with Pam. "I've wished more that that," she whispered, nestling closer to Pam. "But I've been--well--more of a home girl than you might think. And to tell you the truth, much as I've wished for it--you know what I mean--I've been sort of, maybe scared." She pressed her body against Pam's, and suddenly ground her belly hotly against the blonde's exposed crotch.
Pam kissed the redhead. "Come on in here," she whispered, moving toward the door to the bedroom. "I'll show you why we don't need John!"
Once Melissa was stripped, her lovely young body laid open to Pam's hot and appreciative eyes and hands, the older woman moved with care, anxious that this introduction to girl-to-girl sex should leave nothing but pleasant memories.
Sitting beside the redhead, who lay on her back, Pam slid loving hands up and down Melissa's belly, her ribs, her flanks, missing her quaking boobs, her bright bush of red hair, although it demanded all her will power. Melissa's eyes were closed, her hands clenched, and she remained rigid, thighs clamped closely.
As the warm, soft caresses continued, with nothing more overt happening, the younger girl felt an odd sort of warmth growing somewhere near the base of her spine. Gradually, her hands opened and lay inert on the bedspread, and her breathing, which had been ragged and shallow, returned to normal. She turned her hips very slightly from side to side, which Pam noted with anticipation, and the blonde now began stroking down from the ridge of Melissa's pelvic bone, following the crease, the gently contoured valley, which led to the redhead's crotch.
As her heat built, Melissa's thighs relaxed completely, and Pam whispered: "You're doing fine, baby--open up a little for Pammie's finger!"
Melissa sighed deeply, moving her thighs wider apart, and a wave of hot perfume came up in Pam's face. She kept one hand pressed on the younger girl's mons, still not touching the opening slit, and used the other to lift one of the big white tits up on Melissa's chest, where she rolled it with the palm of her hand, increasing the pressure, giving pain, she knew, but sensing the pain's part in creating desire. The nipple hardened against her palm, and she spread her fingers, catching the sensitive nub between two of them, holding it tightly, including it in her pressing circular movement.
Melissa's growing inner flush moved her ass and hips to bob softly up and down, and she slipped slowly into a sort of feverish dimension in which her suddenly flowing cunt seemed to be turning out, as though reaching for something firm and solid.
Pam's breathing, too, was faster, and she moved her hand so that just the middle finger entered the younger girl's humid crack, stroking the delicately moistened texture of the inner lips. At this touch, Melissa's mouth opened, her lower lip seeming to become larger, turned out, and Pam changed her position so she could rest her own boob against the one she had been manipulating, and she placed her mouth over the other girl's, not surprised when a hard, thick tongue threshed against her own.
With a deep sigh, she began to rotate her belly against Melissa's hip, and her searching finger went down fiercely into the red-fringed cunt, pressing up strongly against the sensitive pad of tissue lying an inch inside, on the upper part of the vaginal portal.
As Melissa responded with two rapid bumps, Pam moved her body completely, lying at right angles, her breasts against Melissa's hip, with her streaming pussy a few inches from the redhead's relaxed hand. She took the hand in her own and moved it between her thighs, and smiled as the girl's fingers immediately began their search.
When Melissa, by now twisting from the heat in her groin, had two fingers lodged in her cunt, not reaching for anything in particular, but simply probing and twisting, Pam used her left hand to lift Melissa's left leg, the knee up and turned outward, showing the deep, wet pink of the girl's inner folds. She now wiped her right hand softly up and down the sodden slit, lubricating two fingers and her thumb, and pushed the fingers as deep into the dripping pussy as she could. At the same time, she touched her thumb gently to the swollen clit, moved it in a semicircle, and removed it.
Almost instantly, there was a moan of protest, and Melissa, conscious that she was being deprived of a climax, responded by taking more care with her own probing. Her fingers moved with precision copied from Pam, and her thumb touched the same spot where she had felt such pleasure.
As though this were a signal, both girls began a rhythmic and perfect masturbation, each of the other, a muted but fierce instrumentation of lust that increased in intensity until Melissa felt that she had never been brought to such a height of feeling. Deep inside her, she felt that even her ovaries and womb had been drawn into the cycle of demanding heat, and she began to hump up and down in an increasing tempo that made the bed heave and quake, and she began to moan in time with it.
At just this moment, Pam whispered: "Now!" and, pulling Melissa's left leg flat, she struck with her open mouth at the writhing lips, the jumping clitoris, spreading her own thighs wide in mute invitation.
As she felt Melissa's upper body twist, she had a fraction of a second for satisfaction at her success, but then there was the sucking warmth of the younger girl's mouth and tongue on her own clit, and she gave herself completely to the joy of sucking and being sucked.
It took real muscle and real will power for each of the girls to keep mouths joined with cunts as their twin orgasms released them and sent them into a whining, crying, leaping tangle of lust. Pam returned from her ride into another world with her determination intact, and, although she still writhed against the unresponsive face of the young girl, she moved again to the sensitive target.
At the first touch of her tongue on the painfully sensitized bud, now gone slack, Melissa bucked in pain, but the blonde's strong arms hung onto the two warm thighs, digging her fingers into the smooth-skinned rump, squeezing her lips around the straining membrane while her tongue caressed it with hard, slick moves. In a couple of seconds, she felt Melissa's mouth at her own core of sensation, and they settled into each other like the two parts of a simple puzzle.
After the second orgasm, Melissa reached down to grasp Pam's arms, and by their combined efforts, they managed to come face to face. They lay in each other's arms, kissing in unrestrained pleasure, each enjoying her own fluids so generously smeared on the other's lips and cheeks.
Melissa at last slid her face against Pam's breasts, whispering: "Oh, Pam, that was just heaven! But listen--does this make me a Lesbian?"
Pam gave the bouncy redhead a hard tweak on one of her deep-pink nipples. "Only if you get so hung up on it that you don't like men any more. Does that seem likely?"
Melissa drew a deep breath and looked at Pam seriously. "No way!" she said firmly. "It's wonderful, but it's still a substitute. Much as I loved it--and I'm so glad you taught me what it was all about--I'd crawl over a hundred cunts to get to a big, hard prick! You don't mind?"
Pam kissed her and said: "That may well be the smartest thing you ever said!"
She was aware that Melissa's mouth had come open, a wild look of alarm on her face, and Pam, knowing who it was, said: "Hi, John! Come on in!"
She was proud of the picture he made. Tall, straight, hard-muscled, hairy, his big cock riding proudly up at a forty-five degree angle to his belly. Best of all, he was smiling confidently, and Pam rose.
"You heard what the young lady said, John," Pam said, winking broadly. "I'm getting out of here before she begins crawling across me!"
During the wild fuck which followed, Pam, getting into her coolest bikini, moved about the house, laughing to herself as John and Melissa, growing more athletic as time went on, finally came squirming and fucking off the bed and into the hall.
The chime of the doorbell caused her to be glad of the bikini, and, while she thought it might only be the Malones, she cast a glance back at the hall. John and Melissa were not visible, so she opened the door wide, a smile of welcome on her face.
The dark and handsome woman, her face drawn in what seemed permanent lines of pain, eyed Pam suspiciously.
"Is Professor Lamberson available?" she asked harshly.
Pam giggled, thinking of the unavailability of John.
"No, I'm sorry. I'm Mrs. Lamberson. May I help you?"
The woman stiffened. "I'm an, uh, old acquaintance of your husband's," she said coldly. "We met in the supermarket today. Quite by accident. It occurred to me later that the surprise of it caused me to be, well, overly abrupt. Would you tell the professor that I called to apologize?"
In her moment of surprise, Pam's training and nature, warring with the fact of John and Melissa, screwing in the hall, led her to say: "I wish I could ask you to come in, but the house is such a mess."
At that moment, there was a cry of unmistakable female joy, a series of thuds, and Pam turned her startled eyes to see Melissa's head and shoulders, her big boobs rolling, out of the hall, with John, his fierce joy only too apparent, riding above the girl. The slope of his back left no doubt of what they were doing.
There was a loud hiss of anger, a choked cry, and the dark woman was off, not through the patio gate, as Pam would have expected, but around the house. She hastened to the back door to see the woman hurrying up the hill, then turning to her left to disappear behind the pepper trees.
Helen was mouthing soundless phrases. "The dirty criminal fucker! The dirty fucking bastard. The lying monster!" In self-righteousness and self-pity, she scrambled up the dim path with her cursing turning to dry sobs.