BSS-640 Three-Way Weekend
by Kitty Spencer


Chapter 1

The two young men strolling along Sutter Street might have been brothers. 
Each was tall, each had the same lightly tanned, dark-haired good looks, and the 
same Italian ancestry showed in the boned modeling of both faces. But Nino and 
Carlo were unrelated by direct blood ties. They considered themselves to be 
business partners.

They walked with easy strides toward the rows of cafe tables that lined the 
garden court restaurant, ignoring the San Franciscians and tourists who strolled 
past them. Typically, Carlo was half pace in the lead.

"Let's sit here," he suggested, reaching for a chair at a back row table. They 
sat down and lit cigarettes, each taking from his own pack.

Nino produced a pair of sunglasses from the breast pocket of his jacket and put
them on. It was April; the sunshine was already bright.

Carlo clicked his fingers in the direction of a white jacketed waiter who 
immediately gave a nod of recognition.

"How goes it, George?" Carlo greeted the waiter as the man hurried to the 
table.

"I survive," George grinned. "What'll it be, gentlemen."

"Coffee, amico." Nino ordered the same.

The two young men leaned back in their chairs, each taking in the scene 
around him with a practiced gaze. Only a third of the outdoor tables were 
occupied, for the tourist season had hardly begun. There were still more pigeons 
than people in the court. Simultaneously they caught sight of the girl walking 
across the patio.

She was not beautiful, exactly, but she was attractive in a strangely exciting 
way. Shining in the sunlight, her straight blonde hair hung almost to her 
shoulders. She walked with a languid, long-legged gait, unhurried and graceful. 
And her figure superb.

Twenty or twenty-one, Carlo estimated. More importantly, he could tell at a 
glance that although she was casually dressed, her clothes were undoubtedly 
expensive. And she possessed that air of impeccable carelessness that belongs 
only to rich men's daughters!

"Nino, my friend," Carlo murmured, leaning across the table, "Nino---you'd 
better get to work. Business is already beginning to look good this year ..."

"Did you fix up about the apartment?" Nino asked. The sun blazed momentarily
from Nino's dark glasses as the boy turned toward his companion.

Carlo nodded.

"It's all arranged. I checked everything with the landlord. Including the rent. 
It's ours for the season."

"How'd you get the place so cheap?" Nino's lower lip formed a suspicious pout.

"The landlord is a friend of mine ..." Shrugging, Carlo let his voice trail off.

Nino's petulant expression changed into a satisfied smile. Carlo had more 
"friends" in San Francisco than anyone else Nino knew. Of course, in Carlo's line 
of business, one either had friends---or one starved. There was no middle course.

For the official record, Carlo was a tourist guide. In reality, he was a highly 
versatile procurer.

Their coffee arrived, and Carlo and Nino began discussing the tourist season as
they drank it.

"Christ---but I hope it's better than last year," Nino muttered as he glanced 
toward the table where the blonde-haired girl sat. "I nearly broke my back on 
those women, and not one of them turned out to be worth more than a week's 
keep."

"When one aims high," remarked Carlo, "one must be patient. This year, 
maybe you'll find your dream girl. The dream girl who'll be young, beautiful, 
rich---and very, very stupid."

Carlo grinned maliciously to himself. Nino glanced at him, annoyed, his mouth 
setting in a pouting sulk. Even with his eyes hidden behind the sunglasses, his 
features were expressive. Nino had long been aware that women found his mobile
features distractingly charming.

"Is Benito going to share the apartment with us?" he asked, changing the 
subject.

"Probably. He's supposed to meet us here to let us know definitely."

"I wouldn't have thought he needed an apartment. Those rich old gals he gets 
always have luxury suites in the best hotels. Or else they rent a plush 
apartment."

Nino's voice betrayed jealousy. He sometimes wished he were less fastidious 
but, much as he worshipped money, he couldn't bring himself to court and sleep 
with older women. "It offends my sense of the aesthetic," he had tried to explain 
to Carlo on more than one occasion. "It's almost like a perversion, but in reverse. 
If they're older than thirty, l can't screw them no matter how beautiful. It won't 
come up properly." Carlo's response had always been both lewd and 
unsympathetic.

"Maybe Benito just wants some place to relax," Carlo suggested, his tone, as it
frequently was, bored and noncommittal. "His mother's an overpowering woman. 
He needs some freedom."

Two o'clock was chiming from the nearby clock tower when they saw Benito 
hurrying across the patio toward them. His short, stocky figure moved along 
briskly with quick, neat movements, his light brown hair ruffled slightly in the 
faint breeze. He gave the impression of an overfed bird.

"Ciao," he greeted as he dropped into a chair between Carlo and Nino. Then, in
the next breath: "Can't stop long. I've got an important appointment."

"Already?" Carlo raised an approving eyebrow.

Benito nodded. "The first of many, I hope," he smirked. "At the Fairmont. Not 
bad---only a small suite, but her luggage looks promising."

"Are you planning to include the luggage in your sex games?" Carlo asked. The
thought intrigued him momentarily; within the limited scope of Carlo's interests, 
bizarre sexuality ranked high. Benito grimaced and helped himself to a cigarette 
from Carlo's pack.

"About the apartment ..." he began, as if Carlo had not spoken. Immediately, 
the atmosphere changed. This was business. Carlo sat forward in his chair.

"Yes. Here's the deal ..."

After his short explanatory statement, the three men discussed the project 
community rental. At first, Benito balked at the price, then reconsidered and 
finally agreed to join in, signaling his agreement with a jabbing nod of the head.

"Done," he said. He held out his hand. Carlo clasped it briefly; so did Nino. 
Benito stood up. In the next moment, with a hurried "Ciao" tossed over his 
shoulder, Benito was away and halfway across the court. The other two men 
gazed speculatively at his rapidly disappearing figure.

"I wonder if Benito cums as fast as he does everything else," mused Carlo. "I 
should think those older women of his would hardly have time to spread their legs
before Benito's all through."

Nino gave a short laugh, but his attention was centered elsewhere. A group of 
four girls was being seated at a table only a few yards away. There was much 
breathless giggling and whispering as they settled down. Without being obvious 
about it, Nino appraised them with expert speed: they were all in their late teens. 
He shrugged. They weren't worth bothering about.

Still, a practice run always smoothed his vanity. Nino laughed again, this time 
throwing his head back and displaying his perfect set of white, even teeth. The 
girls looked toward him.

"When can we start using the apartment?" he asked Carlo, still playing his 
side-line game. He leaned back and made much of lighting another cigarette, 
spinning the spent match toward a bunch of pigeons. The birds fluttered off, 
regrouping a few yards away.

"Next week. D'you think you'll be using the place much?"

"Who knows?" Nino shrugged elaborately. "Every night, God willing ..."

"For me, it will be useful mainly as an office," Carlo remarked. "Of course, 
there may be an occasion when I need the place for a night. But I will usually 
make other arrangements. Otherwise, you and Benito can work it out between 
the two of you."

"Do we use the same arrangement as last year? To let the other know when 
the apartment's being used, I mean."

"Whoever wants the place calls the other two, to make sure we don't clash. If 
our ... uh, schedules clash, whoever had the apartment last has to miss a turn."

Carlo paused slightly before adding: "And, to make sure there are no 
accidents, as you go through the downstairs lobby, leave the mailbox door 
flapping open. In the first place, it's a signal to the other two that you're in 
residence. Secondly, checking the mailbox makes it seem right to the woman with
you, as if you really lived there."

"Bene." Nino's gaze drifted, as if by chance, to the table occupied by the four 
young girls. "The one in red is pretty," he commented, "but they look as though 
they've come off some cheap tour. They're probably counting every dollar they 
have."

"They'll get a shock when they see their bill," smiled Carlo. "Unless, of course, 
they find someone foolish enough to pay for it."

"Not enough tourists around. Only another tourist would bother with them."

"There'll be plenty soon. The season's beginning to warm up." Carlo drank the 
last of his coffee. "I've a couple of tours lined up already for this week. And next 
week ... it sounds promising. I have a batch of teenagers on my hands for three 
whole days. One of those educational trips."

"The Count will be delighted to hear the news."

"Yeah. They're just his type. Fifteen and sixteen. Although I heard he's been 
diddling a kid of thirteen---the daughter of his housekeeper, or so the rumor goes 
"

"So young?"

"He needs them younger every year. The Count's reaching the point where, as 
soon as they grow hair between their thighs, he loses interest."

Supplying the Count with suitable bed material was indeed becoming a 
problem, thought Carlo, pouring himself a glass of water from the carafe on the 
table. He drained the glass in a single swallow.

As he was setting the empty glass back on the table, he caught sight of the 
blonde-haired girl again. "Nino, my friend," he said, rising, "I think I'll leave you 
to your work."

Nino's brow knitted. Then following Carlo's gaze, he smiled. "Ciao, my friend 
..."


Chapter 2

After leaving Carlo and Nino, Benito headed for the Fairmont. He did not stop 
to wait for a cable car. With his trotting walk, he could get there faster on foot. To 
avoid the solid mass of tourists blocking the street which led from the cafe to the 
hotel, Benito ducked through a series of alleyways so narrow that they remained 
in almost permanent semi-darkness. They smelled of cafe kitchens and cats.

Christ! Benito thought, glancing at the gold watch he had recently acquired. 
Nearly two-thirty, and he'd promised to be at the hotel by two. Hannah would be 
angry with him. He couldn't help admiring the way the watch looked on his wrist. 
The solid gold bracelet band showed up well just beneath his shirt cuff. As he 
almost ran through the narrow alleys, Benito held out his left arm momentarily to 
admire the effect again. It occurred to him that he could do with a gold signet 
ring. Carlo had a beauty that looked very impressive. A businessman needed a 
signet ring, really. He'd have to explain about it to Hannah.

Benito did not check with the desk clerk at the hotel. The hotel staff all knew 
him by now. The first couple of times he had come in he had asked for his women
clients by name, but he no longer bothered. As he ran toward the elevator, Benito
saw out of the corner of his eye that the desk clerk had lifted the house phone. 
He would be telling Hannah that Benito was on his way up.

"Honey, whatever took you so long?" Hannah Stanford's voice did not quite 
succeed in concealing her irritation.

"My landlady asked me to help her. She wanted furniture moved," Benito lied 
quickly. He always told his women friends that he had a landlady. He never told 
them about his mother; it would not have seemed decent.

"You silly boy! You let people take advantage of you---you really do!" The older
woman sounded happier already. "Now then, be an angel and get your poor 
Hannah a nice, long drink. I'm nearly dying of thirst. The gin's over there. And go 
easy on the ice cubes."

Benito handed the drink to her and noticed for the first time that she was 
dressed only in a lace nglige, her voluptuously preserved curves almost 
completely visible beneath it.

Oh God! thought Benito, she wants it now, and, man, am I tired!

"Come and sit beside me like a good, sweet lover-boy," Hannah said, patting 
the sofa.

Obediently, the chubby youth perched beside her. Although the shades were 
half-drawn over the window, enough sunlight filtered into the room for him to see 
that Hannah wore nothing underneath the flimsy garment; one of the woman's 
pink nipples was plainly visible pushing up through the expensive lace.

Suddenly he stood up and walked over to the window. From there, he said, 
"We shall be late. I wanted to take you to lunch in Tiburon today."

"Lunch, smunch! Who cares about food?" She waved her arm in the air and 
some of the gin slopped over onto the sofa. "Stop pacing about all the time, lover!
You make me dizzy. For God's sake, come and sit down." Her voice took on its 
familiar whine. "Come and give poor Hannah a kiss."

With a quick, bird-like step, Benito was across the room and bending over to 
kiss the woman on the cheek. She clutched at his shoulders as he leaned over 
and forced his head around so that his lips were pressed against her mouth.

"There, that's better, isn't it?" she said in a satisfied tone, and then put a 
ring-burdened hand on Benito's leg. An upward movement, and then her hand 
began rubbing his thigh. For a moment, Benito disinterestedly watched her fingers
massaging his flesh, and then the sparkle of the diamond rings reminded him. He 
took her hand in his and lifted it to his lips.

"You have beautiful hands," he said smoothly.

"Yeah, Art used to tell me that, too."

Benito had been told all about Art. He had been Hannah's husband for what 
she referred to, from the smugness of widowhood, as "twenty-five truly felicitous 
years." Mention of her husband's name made the youth nervous because it 
invariably started Hannah thinking about bed. Art, according to Hannah, had been
able "to give it to me as often as I wanted it, and I always wanted it plenty!" And 
poor Art had died at forty-six, Benito reflected gloomily ...

"I would like a signet ring, I think," he said bluntly. With the older woman in 
such a mood, he knew he was wasting his time being circumspect. "It would suit 
me, no?"

"You may be right. Show me your hand."

Benito held his hand out for her inspection. She stared at it for a moment.

"You could be right," she repeated. Then, without warning, she seized his hand
and pressed it down hard between her thighs. With her other arm, she pulled the 
boy down hard on top of her.

"Take me, take me," she moaned into Benito's ear. "Like this, now! Quickly!"

Pulling himself away, he asked, "Don't you want to go into the bedroom?"

In answer, Hannah moaned even more demandingly, and her voluptuously 
mature body started to writhe beneath him. One of her hands groped at his fly.

"We can go into the bedroom later," she gasped, her face flushed and 
perspiring slightly as her fingers fumbled with Benito's clothes. "I can't wait for 
that now! Give it to me, Baby, give it to me!"

Moments later, he was free of his clothing and she eagerly pulled him to the 
sofa. Her body was lost in the fire of the moment and every muscle was tensed as
she strained her loins upward in an effort to capture the virile long shaft of flesh 
that pressed so tightly against the soft skin of her thighs. The nakedly chubby 
youth levered her legs up onto the cushions so that she lay full-length on the 
couch, then pried her thighs far apart and climbed up between them positioning 
his body over her eagerly writhing form.

Hannah could see the boy hovering over her through her lust-glazed eyes and 
she felt the hugeness of his fleshy hardness lying against the full length of her 
impatiently quivering vaginal slit. The lurching head of his stone-hard cock was 
hot between her wide-spread buttocks, and was insinuating itself up and down 
the desire-moistened crevice in a lewd, teasing little motion that sent her hips 
twisting upwards in a desperate attempt to capture the hard, lust-engorged top 
that would fill her aching need. Her belly was screaming to be filled---she had to 
have it in her!

At last, in a panic of frustration, she reached her hands down between their 
bodies and grasped the full length of the rampantly searching prick. Her 
tightly-closed fist stroked up and down the thick hard shaft for a moment, feeling 
its heaving pulse against her soft palms and the warm sticky fluid that seeped in 
tiny white driblets from the blood-inflated head. Then, she guided it into her 
cuntal crevice, carefully positioning it between the moisture covered lips of her 
vagina. She steadied it there with one hand and placed the other on the youth's 
buttocks, drawing with all her strength to pull it into her and let it drown the 
gnawing hot heat that burned out of control in her belly. Her eyes closed in 
ecstasy as she felt its first soft electrical contact against the sensitive ragged 
edges of her moistly hungering pussy, then she held her breath for what seemed 
like an eternity as she lay in utter wantonness beneath the youth, waiting for him 
to impale her on his massive rod of rigid, pulsating flesh.

"Oh God, hurry, baby! Hurry!" she pleaded, splaying her legs even wider to 
give him greater access to her open cunt.

In answer, Hannah felt her soft pubic hair and the lips around her throbbing 
vagina being pressured open by the thick head, and she moaned softly at the 
contact against the tight elastic opening of her cock-hungry pussy.

"Aaaaaaagh," she gasped as the huge tip slipped through the tight opening, 
stretching the vertical little mouth until she was certain that her thighs must be 
splitting apart from the relentless outward pressure.

"Ooooooooooah, oooooooooh!" she cried out. "It's too much. Noooooooooo!" 
Her eyes jerked open in fear and she saw his lust-contorted face. The Italian 
youth was lost in the rapture of her body and did not realize how much he was 
hurting her as he ceaselessly pressed his long hard penis into the warm softness 
of her painfully stretching vagina.

Suddenly, his no longer innocent-looking face twisted into an evil leer as he 
looked down and saw the older woman helplessly spread-eagled beneath him with
the pulsating head of his cock disappearing into the soft curling hair of her pussy. 
He fell forward, his weight smashing her full rounded breasts tightly back against 
her chest. He rammed his hips forward at the same time with all the strength in 
his thighs and buttocks, and his long thick cock slid into her cunt like a driving 
piston, pushing the soft moist flesh of her vaginal walls in tiny rippling waves 
before it. There was no stopping it until with a loud slap his balls slammed heavily
down on the cheeks of her tightly-clenched ass. Her legs jerked out wide on either
side of his young muscular body, splaying out over the side of the couch and 
kicking futilely into the air as her deeply split buttocks screwed themselves deep 
into the cushions in a frantic attempt to escape the sudden impalement.

"Oooooooooooh! Oooooooooooooh!" she wailed beneath him. She had never 
felt so completely filled in her life and his heavy, rock-hard cock felt as though it 
had torn her vagina into a million tiny shreds as he had speared into her narrow 
passage. The fiery plunging rod felt as though it was coming up out of her throat 
as the lustfully inflated, mushroom-shaped head pressed hard back up against her
cervix, the thick lengthy shaft filling her belly to the bursting point. There was not
a single tiny ridge of flesh on the rock-hard, heavily-veined cock that she could 
not feel as the walls of her cunt clasped around the shaft as tightly as a hot moist 
glove. She lay trembling for a moment beneath him, trying to adjust to the 
presence of the monstrous intruding cudgel in her belly.

Then the young boy suddenly began a slow rocking motion between her 
wide-held thighs. As Hannah groaned helplessly beneath him, Benito could feel 
the narrow stretched pussy channel widening slightly with each short smooth 
stroke. He looked down and could see his curly pubic hair tangling tightly with 
hers each time the length of his thick fleshy rod burrowed deep into the pinkly 
throbbing furrow up between her legs. He could see the tight little lips of her cunt 
stretched almost to the bursting point, the rubbery outer pink rim clasping tightly 
around his wetly glistening shaft as it slowly plunged in and out of her.

Hannah twitched beneath him as her body rapidly became accustomed to the 
huge skewering prick and began to react to the slow, hypnotic rhythm of his cock 
pistoning into the sensitive opening of her vagina.

Benito felt her begin to thrash and fuck back up beneath him, and he 
quickened his thrusts, grabbing her flailing legs behind the knees and shoving 
them roughly back against her shoulders until her ankles locked tightly behind his
neck. Her body was bent back almost double and the wetly gleaming pink plane of
her pussy was presented up to his driving lunges. Staring down between their 
bodies, he slowly withdrew the deeply embedded instrument until just the tip of 
the head rested within the swollen wet lips of her pussy then rammed forward 
with all his youthful energy, driving the full, throbbing length of his lust-incited 
member deep into her helplessly exposed vagina. Then again, and again; each 
wet, flat smack of his hips thudding against her pelvis resounding through the 
room. His hands insinuated themselves between the cushions and the white full 
cheeks of her ass, and the young Italian cupped them in his spread fingers and 
palms, kneading the warmly soft flesh, pulling the white rounded globes far apart.
His muscular shoulders pushing against the back of her full rounded calves kept 
her locked in that helpless position while he rammed his long fiery rod into her 
moistly dilated pussy, sweeping her buttocks wider and wider apart with each 
powerful forward lunge of his young straining loins.

Hannah groaned defenselessly beneath him, her flushed face showing a 
mixture of feelings- pain and pleasure. She was powerless to move as he buffeted
her helpless body along the couch cushions, driving her up toward the arm of the 
sofa with every pounding lunge. Even her arms were pinned down at her sides by 
her own updrawn legs and she could feel the giant blood-filled head sliding up and
down inside her warm viscous passage like a well-oiled piston. His sperm-bloated 
balls slapped loudly against her anus each time he crushed his loins down into the
valley of her buttocks, and wafts of cool air rushed maddeningly between her 
wide-spread thighs every time he withdrew. His hands cupped her full heaving 
breasts, twisting and squeezing and tugging at the hard pink nipples until the 
older woman thought that they would surely burst from the youth's wild 
manipulation of them.

Suddenly her face contorted into an unrecognizable mask of wild abandoned 
passion. Her womb flared and the tightly resisting lips of her hair-lined vaginal 
furrow flowered open to receive the delicious ravishment of her secret genitals. 
She desperately forced her hands out from under her pinioned legs and wrapped 
them around his flexing young buttocks as her rotating hips slithered wetly 
upward to devour his lust-hardened penis. His heavy testicles smacked into the 
passion-drenched crevice of her buttocks, making the whole sensitive area tingle 
and contract in response to the strange delightful sensation. Her nails clawed a 
red streaked path along his back as she pulled him deep and thrust her belly up 
harder to skewer herself completely on the driving hot flesh of his pumping shaft. 
Her body began to match his driving thrusts with her own rhythmic thrashings, 
and the straining spring of the couch squeaked loudly in time to the two tightly 
entwined bodies struggling wildly against- each other. The guttural sounds of deep
panting grunts and groans filled the hotel room, mingling with the wet noises of 
sweat soaked flesh smacking sharply against sweat soaked flesh ... and the moist 
viscous slurp of Benito's pile-driving cock fucking madly in and out of her wetly 
sucking cunt.

"Oooooooh, yessss, ooooooooooh, yesssss," Hannah chanted over and over to 
herself as the boy ceaselessly slammed his throbbing, expanding prick deep into 
her white rounded belly with long hard lunges. The youth could feel the cum 
boiling inside his heated balls as they beat wildly against her upturned ass. He 
grunted savagely and quickened his stroke, grinding hard and deep until his 
massively pulsating cock bored far up into the hidden, untouched recesses of her 
womb. Her breasts heaved and quivered up against the pressure of his chest, the 
hardened nipples digging into his skin.

Nothing mattered to her now but the delicious waves of stormy feeling in her 
cunt as his thick impaling shaft drove in and out of her vagina, ramming in all the 
way until the blood-engorged head began bouncing repeatedly off her cervix.

Suddenly, the rich widow shivered under him! "Oh, God! ... Yes, yesssss, I'm 
cummmmmming. Oh, God, I'm cummmmmmmmming, nowwwwwww!" With a 
deep-throated groan, her ripely mature body stiffened and began vibrating 
uncontrollably, wet white cum oozing from the throbbing passage and drowning 
the Italian boy's long impaling member with its sticky warmth.

Benito paused for a moment, then went berserk as she grunted out her climax 
against his matted pelvis, her body jerking spasmodically up against him. His 
harshly kneading hands pulled the wide-spread cheeks of her white globular 
buttocks hard up against his grinding pelvis, and he rammed his exploding cock 
all the way to the hilt into the velvet depths of her softly twitching cunt.

Hannah thought her insides were about to split as she felt the head of the 
deep-sunk penis flex and flare into a hugeness that threatened to tear her belly. 
Then, suddenly, he erupted, his thick hot liquid shooting deep up into her widely 
stretched womb, mixing deliciously with the juices of her own sensuality. Her 
mind whirled in a seemingly endless orgasm as the burning, powerful squirts 
surged deep inside her, filling her to overflowing with its hot sticky whiteness. The
hot drenched walls of her cunt clasped and unclasped, working and sucking 
around his still driving prick, spilling down into the soft, excitedly clenching 
crevice of her buttocks and flooding over his own testicles and the base of his 
cock as he continued to fuck relentlessly into her.

Reaching frantically under her squirming buttocks with both hands, she began 
to desperately milk at Benito's dancing balls pressed into the split of her behind. 
Her legs jerked out quivering insanely into the air around his shoulders. The giant 
prick still continued to throb and flex, jerking its completion in hot white spurts, 
filling her womb and soaking the soft matted pubic hair it was buried in.

"Oh, God, don't stop, don't ever stop," she pleaded dazedly. The starving pores
of her cunt sucked at the lurching cock until it finally gave one last spasmodic jerk
and lay limp, far up inside her quivering belly.

Panting, Benito collapsed wearily across her body, feeling her insides still 
gushing forth around his rapidly deflating prick. At last, she too gave a final jerk 
and trembled to stillness, her legs splayed obscenely on either side of his heaving 
body. Her firm, sculptured body felt drained of everything, her belly filled to the 
bursting point with their hot, sticky-white juices.

Benito lay still for a moment, trying to recover his strength, then slowly pulled 
himself off Hannah's still form, his cock sliding slowly out of her battered cunt 
with a lewd wet sound. He could see the wet, matted furrow of her sex glistening 
in the fading afternoon light. The insides of her thighs were heavily smeared with 
the juices of love that had run in tiny rivulets out of her vagina to form a 
pearl-colored pool between her still wide-spread thighs. Smiling, Hannah looked 
up at Benito's satiated face.

"Now we can go into the bedroom," she sighed, devilishly.


Chapter 3

For the first time in months, Elaine Craig felt relaxed. She sat, becalmed, in the
sunshine-bathed plaza; it was almost as if disaster had never touched her. On the 
table in front of her stood a cool gin-and-tonic. Between sips, the attractive young
blonde scribbled brief messages on the postcards she had bought.

"Now I know why San Francisco is called "Baia de Magnificencia Tremenda" she
wrote to her parents. "This is the most peaceful spot on earth. I love it."

That would please her mother and father, she thought. They were so 
desperately anxious for her to be happy again---and their anxiety both irritated 
and oppressed their only daughter.

"I've lost my heart---to San Francisco!" Elaine scrawled largely across the back
of another card. That card she addressed to Edward L. Towers, Jr. And let's hope 
that this time, she told herself, dear Edward L., Junior takes the hint. Unless of 
course, he was really determined to make a lifetime career out of being the man 
she was least likely to marry. Stifling a giggle, the girl reached for another card.

She addressed the last of her cards, idly speculating on how long it would be 
before she saw any of those people again. She suspected that it might be quite a 
while but the thought did not bother her.

She had arrived in San Francisco the week before and had done little except 
bask in the sunshine and the easy-paced atmosphere. She was booked in at a 
small hotel that overlooked Union Square and had drooping fuchsias growing out 
of its window boxes. Sometimes Elaine wondered when she would have to wake 
up again.

A fluttering of wings made her look up. Two tourists, a man and a girl, were 
feeding a flock of pigeons. She turned her head. To her right sat a group of 
teenage girls, laughing, whispering and eating ice cream. She looked around to 
her left; a middle-aged couple were sipping experimentally at cups of espresso. 
Elaine couldn't help noticing that both of them were very good looking.

The realization suddenly came that she was the only person sitting alone; that 
didn't bother her a bit! A pretty girl on her own attracts attention' and Elaine Craig
both expected and enjoyed it.

She leaned back in her chair, letting the warmth of the spring sun suffuse her 
body closing her eyes against the glare. Behind the thickly lashed lids, Elaine's 
eyes were clear blue, set deep in a distinctively boned face. Her heavy blonde 
hair, streaked by nature and the swimming pool, swung down straight almost to 
her shoulders. Although she was not conventionally pretty, she possessed an 
off-beat, sensual kind of beauty that captivated men and mystified other women.

Voices, right beside her, jerked Elaine out of her reverie. She opened her eyes 
and looked around but for a moment she could see nothing in the dazzling light. 
Then she realized that the voices were not addressing her, but belonged to a 
group of sight-seers settling down noisily at the next table. If the group had been 
aware of Elaine, they would have noticed that her smile, as she turned away, was 
one of relief.

Leaning forward in her chair, the young blonde reached for the tall glass on the
table in front of her. Her gaze wandered to the far end of the patio.

It was then that she saw him, coming through the colonnades.

Elaine froze! Her outstretched hand turned into a furiously clenched fist. It's 
Warren! was her sole, panic-filled thought. The shock of his sudden appearance 
held the startled girl rigid in her chair. Immobilized, she sat and watched the 
approaching figure of her ax-husband, dully aware of the pounding in her head 
and throat.

It was soon over! "Warren" came to within a few feet of where Elaine sat---and
kept right on walking. And he had not been Warren, after all. The man was just 
another camera-slung tourist crossing the patio at a leisurely pace.

But the stranger was tall and loose-limbed, as Warren had been. He had 
crew-cut hair and he looked to be about the same age---twenty-eight ---that 
Warren would be. He even had the same jawline and the stand-out ears. But he 
wasn't Warren. He wasn't her husband---her ex-husband, Elaine reminded herself.
She must remember that. The man she had once been married to was thousands 
of miles from San Francisco.

Elaine's hands were damp. She was exhausted, almost shaking, the turmoil 
inside her a mixture of rage and fear. She wanted a cigarette badly, but she was 
not able to open her handbag and take one out of the pack. The tense rigidity of 
the moment had gone; the immobility remained.

How long had it been since the last time she had suffered the illusion of seeing 
him? A week at least---perhaps longer.

Warren's "appearance" had been one of the most distressing symptoms to 
follow the divorce. Wherever she went, Elaine kept seeing her ax-husband. The 
"divorce syndrome," she had called it in a painful attempt to laugh it off.

She felt the color returning to her face. Her flushed cheeks and over-brilliant 
eyes were the only outward signs of the reaction setting in. The same reaction 
that always followed, as night follows day. Every time Elaine "saw" him, she 
drowned in angry humiliation all over again.

She remembered that afternoon, not so very many months ago, when she had 
picked up the telephone in her brand-new home in Connecticut. Looking back, 
Elaine could recognize that time as having been her last moment of innocence.

She also remembered her surprise at finding it was the police who were 
telephoning her.

"Mrs. Craig? This is Sergeant Reiley. We have your husband here at the station.
We'd like to talk to you ..."

The memory blur had started there-the blur created in self-defense against too
many unpalatable facts, too many truths stripped of their covering, too much 
reality rushing in until it seemed she would choke ...


Chapter 4

The police had been very considerate toward her. They tried to break the news 
gently. A policewoman sat beside Elaine in the office, smiling encouragingly from 
time to time. None of it helped! Outside, the New England countryside blazed with
bright autumn color. She remembered thinking about that even as she heard her 
life explode.

After the routine questions, Elaine was told that her husband had been 
apprehended while engaged in committing an indecent act. The words jumbled 
together for Elaine as fact and emotion grated within the blur. But, through it all, 
came clarity. Elaine was given all the facts. Warren Craig, her husband, had stood 
on a quiet suburban street near the local school and exposed his penis to a group 
of little girls. He had tried to entice them closer to him, but after whispering 
among themselves, the children had run off. Warren had followed them a short 
way, his trousers still open and his penis out.

He had remained in the area for almost an hour, eventually working his way to 
the school's then-deserted playground. By that time one of the children had run 
home, told her mother what had happened, and the tearful mother had called the 
police.

When the patrol car arrived at the playground, Warren was sitting on one of 
the swings. Two ten-year-old girls watched him, giggling, while he pulled his penis
out of his open fly and then stuffed it back inside his pants again. The girls had 
come to the station as witnesses when the police brought him in.

For Elaine, ordeal followed upon ordeal. Talking to the psychiatrist had been 
worse than being told what had happened by the police. "If there's anything you 
can tell me, anything at all, Mrs. Craig, that might help ..."

What was she supposed to tell him? That she'd always suspected her husband 
... that she'd known he had a desire to expose himself to little girls?

"Were your sexual relations with your husband quite normal, Mrs. Craig?" The 
doctor's voice was firm and decisive. There was no escape for Elaine then, no way
out into tears of rage or self-pity. "It's important that you cooperate with us as 
fully as possible."

The tone had become gentler, but the questions continued.

"Now tell me ... did your husband ever ask you to engage in any sexual 
perverted acts?"

God in heaven, Elaine thought, when they phrase things so clinically, they 
somehow manage to make everything sound dirty.

"What kind of thing?" Elaine asked. "If you ask me questions, I suppose I can 
try to answer them." She could not hide the petulance in her voice, nor did she 
even try to do so. She felt tired and ill-used. She was the real victim of the 
situation, she thought, yet no one seemed concerned about what she might be 
suffering.

"Fine," the psychiatrist said encouragingly. "Well, now, would you describe your
husband as impotent?"

It was the first time Elaine had openly admitted the truth, even to herself. She 
nodded.

"Was he always impotent?"

"Nearly always, she said in a low voice. "We slept ... I mean, we had sexual 
relations only a few times during the whole of our marriage."

"How long have you and your husband been married?"

"Just over a year."

"Is it possible for you to tell me what you thought was your husband's 
difficulty? In other words, on the occasions when you did engage in sexual 
activity, can you pinpoint the factor that made it possible for your husband to do 
so?"

Elaine felt herself growing almost hysterical under the questioning. She wanted
to giggle and say, "That's a fancy way of asking me how Warren managed to get 
an erection," but she suppressed the desire. Already stripped of her dignity, she 
struggled determinedly to retain a few shreds of composure.

Elaine knew what she must tell the psychiatrist, but some innate reticence held
her back momentarily. Reticence ... and pride. From the beginning, she'd had to 
battle for her marriage to Warren. It had begun with her parents' opposition. 
Elaine had won, as she had known all along that she would, but from the first she 
had found herself forced into a stubbornly defensive position where her husband, 
was concerned. After the wedding, she had hidden her disillusionment out of 
false, nineteen-year-old pride. And, having successfully hidden her humiliation for 
so long, she could hardly bear having it uncovered and pried apart then.

"Where did you and your husband meet?" prompted the psychiatrist, noticing 
Elaine's withdrawal and trying to ease her out of it.

"At a friend's house in Vermont. I'd gone for a skiing weekend and Warren was 
there, too. We fell in love right away. It sounds strange to say it but, at the time, 
we seemed so right for each other."

"How long was it before you married?"

"A year. I was only eighteen when I first met him. My parents were upset 
about the whole thing. I'm their only child and ... they didn't want me to leave 
college---all the usual stuff. But I got my way in the end, and we were married. 
My mother and dad gave us a house as a wedding present."

There was a pause. At that moment, the telephone shrilled on the desk and the
psychiatrist murmured, "Excuse me," as he reached to answer it. Elaine sat and 
wondered how she could find the right words to explain her marriage. It would be
best to start at the beginning, she supposed. With the wedding night ... Well, first 
she'd have to tell the psychiatrist about Warren's fetish for physical fitness, about 
his muscle-making routines, his frequent workouts at the gym. He had believed in
body-building exercises ... morning and night.

That was how she had come to spend part of her wedding night standing 
naked, lifting bar bells in front of an open window. Warren wanted her to exercise 
with him. Afterwards, aching and exhausted, Elaine had stretched out on the huge
bed in the hotel's luxurious honeymoon suite. He had moved quickly to the bed 
where he had lain on top of her, without preliminary love-making of any kind. He 
just lay there, kissing her face lightly with closed lips and balancing his body on 
hers as if he were performing yet another muscle-control exercise.

Finally, he had rolled over onto the sheet saying, "You must be tired, honey. I 
won't bother you tonight." After that, he'd fallen asleep almost immediately. Tired
though she was, Elaine could not ignore her growing uneasiness. She had lain 
awake for hours, staring into the dark. It had been the first of many such vigils.

During their courtship, Elaine had admired Warren's old-fashioned approach to 
sex. She was not a virgin, but after the crude behavior of some of the college 
men she had known, his apparent chivalry had appealed to her. But in the still 
darkness of her wedding night, she wondered if possibly she had not idealized the
situation. Instinct told her that something was wrong. Her own limited sexual 
experiences confirmed the thought. So did the days that followed.

During their honeymoon, she found out that there was only one method by 
which he was able to achieve an erection. And, as with all impotent men, the 
method involved a lengthy routine. The routine was more like an obscure tribal 
ritual, with Elaine, naked, carrying out a series of complicated and exhausting 
physical exercises, while her husband barked out staccato commands, urging her 
on to greater and greater effort until she all but collapsed.

She felt herself grow hot with resentment as she remembered the scenes that 
had taken place between herself and her husband. The oddly excited look on his 
face as he stood watching her frantic movements while she tried to follow the 
ever-increasing tempo of his commands, came vividly to her mind; so did the 
shame she had felt at her own unwitting response to the sight of her husband 's 
stiffening organ.

With a distressed moan, the ashamed young wife buried her face in her hands.
By the time the psychiatrist completed his phone call, she was sobbing. It was a 
little while before she was calm enough to speak clearly. Once the interview was 
over, Elaine felt drained of all energy. But she had enough strength left to accept 
the fact that her marriage was finished. The sham was over! There was nothing 
left to pretend about anymore.

For more than a year, she had stubbornly tried to keep up a faade of being 
happily married. She'd behaved instinctively, protecting both herself and her 
husband. It had taken the psychiatrist less than an hour to destroy that faade in 
a way that made it impossible to piece together again.

Strangely, it had been Warren, himself, who had finally confirmed the 
destruction. Once, in the beginning he had begged her never to leave him, had 
asked her with tears in his eyes to bear with him and remain his wife. But after 
the arrest a different Warren faced Elaine, a grim-faced and monosyllabic man 
who only spoke to tell her, in halting phrases' that everything was her fault, that if
it had not been for her, he would not be in such a predicament. Fortunately, he 
was led back to his cell before she started to scream.

For a time, Elaine had returned to her parents' home in Baltimore. She decided
... and her parents agreed ... that divorce was the only possible solution. The 
young blonde had been twenty when her husband had been arrested; her 
twenty-first birthday took place a week after her divorce became final.

But the divorce was not enough. It provided no escape from those who knew 
what had happened and whose knowledge was a constant humiliation. She felt 
continually sullied by the publicity Warren's case had received. He had received a 
light sentence; and what had happened between the two of them was a secret 
she could have borne ... forever, if need be. His public disgrace was another 
matter.

It was her father who had suggested a trip. His suggestion came on a day 
when Elaine had imagined, during a downtown shopping trip, that she had seen 
Warren twice. She had seized upon her father's words gratefully.

"It would be nice if one of your girlfriends could go with you," Elaine's mother 
added. "Liz, perhaps, or Marcia?"

Over my dead body, Elaine thought silently. Aloud, she said, "It's a wonderful 
idea, I'd love it. But I'd prefer to go alone. I need to be alone for a while." She 
knew that her parents would never be able to refuse her appeal.

Two days later, the troubled young girl boarded the jet for San Francisco ...


Chapter 5

Through eyes blurred with sudden tears, Elaine looked around the plaza. Well, 
she'd taken the trip! She was in Union Square, in San Francisco. And, damn it, 
she was enjoying it.

She fumbled clumsily for a much-needed cigarette, and she dropped her 
handbag. The contents spilled out over the ground. Elaine knelt hastily to collect 
them ... a change purse, her lighter, two lipsticks, her compact, a comb ...

"Is this yours?"

The voice came from above Elaine's head. She looked up, squinting against the
sunlight. A young man stood beside her, holding a silver dollar in his out stretched
hand. He was tall and he wore dark glasses. He spoke with a marked accent.

"Why, yes. Thank you." Elaine straightened up and took the coin. It was the 
one she always carried, her lucky dollar. Flustered, she began putting her 
belongings back into her bag. As she dropped her compact into place, she felt a 
tear roll down her cheek. Another followed it. She was angry at having made a 
fool of herself.

The voice spoke again, warm with sympathy.

"Please. You are crying. You must sit down. Let me order you a coffee."

It was a relief to do as she was told. Elaine sat down. The young man sat down
opposite her. He snapped his fingers at a waiter and within seconds a large black 
coffee appeared on the table. She drank it gratefully.

"Please, I wish to present myself. My name is Nino."

Elaine looked at him. She recognized him as one of the boys who had been 
sitting a few tables away from her. She glanced around. The other young man had
disappeared.

"I'm Elaine," she said. "Elaine Craig."

"I'm glad to meet you," the handsome youth said. He removed his sunglasses. 
Dark, serious eyes looked into her face. "I hope you feel better now?"

"Yes, thank you, much better. It was kind of you to help me. I don't know what
...

Her voice trailed away on the lie as she neglected to complete the sentence. 
She had no intention of explaining what had happened to her.

Nino smiled his understanding. Elaine considered his face thoughtfully. She 
found it interesting. It was not merely that he was handsome; he had 
exceptionally fine bone structure. She imagined him to be a highly sensitive 
person. She wondered if he came from one of those very old, aristocratic families 
one heard about.

"Is this your first visit to San Francisco?" Nino asked.

"Yes."

"Are you staying long?"

Elaine paused for a moment. The boy's eyes watched her carefully as he 
waited for her reply. Finally, she said: "Why, yes. I hope so."

Nino did not answer. He simply sat in the sun and smiled ...


Chapter 6

Carlo was due to pick up his tour group at two-thirty. After a glance at the 
watch lying on the bureau, he reflected, for the umpteenth time, that the season 
had all the earmarks of a real money-maker. The flow of tourists was already 
promising.

His group for the day was booked in at a second-class hotel in North Beach, 
only a short walk from the apartment where he lived with his family. While his 
mother and younger brothers took their customary after-lunch nap, Carlo 
showered and changed.

The afternoon was cooler than yesterday. Carlo wondered whether or not it 
would be worth wearing his silk suit. The suit was expensively tailored, and he 
knew it looked well on his tall, athletic frame. Did guiding a school-group for the 
afternoon rate the silk suit?

Carlo shrugged. He might as well wear it. You never knew.

He checked his appearance in the bedroom mirror. Although it was still spring, 
he already had acquired a light tan. He thought with satisfaction that it made him 
look vigorous. Good. He combed his dark-brown hair and then tucked the comb 
into the breast pocket of his suit. Last came the cologne. He poured a little of it 
into the palm of one hand and massaged the back of his neck, taking care not to 
soil his fresh white shirt. As always, Carlo's attention to detail was meticulous.

He took a final look in the mirror. His narrow eyes--- amber colored and long, 
like the eyes of a cat---studied every detail of his reflection. Apparently 
reassured, Carlo moved away from the glass and sat down on the iron-frame bed.

He picked up a bunch of papers and flipped through them. It took him only 
minutes to check the schedule for the afternoon. One of the travel-office clerks 
had written out the pertinent information in an untidy scrawl. Rendezvous: 
two-thirty p.m. at the hotel. Number of persons in group: twenty. Eighteen 
girls---ages fourteen to seventeen---and two adult teachers. The teachers were a 
Mr. and Mrs. Horace Clark

Carlo hummed to himself, softly. The setup suggested inviting possibilities.

The tour's schedule read: "Take group by bus from hotel to Fisherman's Wharf.
Visit Maritime Museum. Take four p.m. Harbor Cruise. Upon return, tour 
Fisherman's Wharf. Group to be back at hotel in time for dinner (this means seven
p.m.).

A routine deal, Carlo had lost count of the number of times he'd done it before.

Quietly, he let himself out of the family apartment. On his way to the hotel, he 
considered the afternoon's prospects. He was confident he could handle the 
teachers and, out of the eighteen teenage girls, he estimated he could pick out at 
least half a dozen nymphets. In fact, if these girls were anything like the last 
group he'd handled, he would be more likely to have trouble dumping those he 
didn't want.

No, there wouldn't be any trouble with the girls. Which meant he had to decide
how he could best make use of them. The Count? The Count de Andros would be 
interested, of course, but perhaps he wasn't the right man to approach in the first
instance. It might be better to make the first approach to Marceau. Marceau 
Verner III: Middle-aged, rich, former international playboy, now confined to his 
sumptuous mansion with gout and---it was hinted---something rather worse by 
way of sickness. Marceau liked young girls. Mostly, he liked them two or three at 
a time, playing special games he had invented for his own diversion.

Carlo smiled to himself. He would give Marceau a call that evening ...


Chapter 7

The walled garden behind the small cafe was cool in the early afternoon. Vines 
covered the walls and the overhead trellis; a light breeze blew through the leaves.
Fog silently slipped through the Golden Gate.

Elaine Craig shivered slightly, and Nino immediately put his arm around her. 
His fingers traced a pattern on her bare forearm; and somehow the young blonde 
divorce felt comforted by his touch.

"You are cold?" Nino asked, his expression full of concern. It was one of the 
things that she had found so appealing about him during the past few days: he 
took their friendship so seriously. It seemed a long time since a man had been 
concerned about her thoughts and feelings. Too long, in fact. She was accustomed
to being spoiled.

Everything about Elaine seemed important to Nino and the girl luxuriated in his
interest, telling him all about her Baltimore childhood and endlessly detailing her 
likes, dislikes' and opinions on practically every subject under the sun. The Italian 
boy had been sympathetic when she told him she was divorced - and that she 
didn't wish to discuss the matter, ever. He had understood. He seemed to 
understand so many things about her. She smiled up at him.

"You must have a cognac," Nino said. "It will warm you up."

His arm tightened around her and she felt his fingers into her flesh; his animal 
warmth seeped through her light cotton dress.

What is the matter with me? she wondered. What is there about this man that 
arouses me?

As Elaine speculated, the darkly handsome youth slipped his arm further 
around her, letting his fingers brush lightly across her breast. Then, for a brief 
second, he held its firm fullness cupped in his hand. Immediately, she pushed his 
hand away. But it was impossible to conceal her involuntary reaction. At his touch,
her nipple grew hard; its outline could be clearly seen pressing against the thin 
material of her dress.

She flushed, seeing Nino's hot downward gaze. The boy's tongue moistened his
lips, and Elaine imagined she could feel his soft warm mouth close around her 
breast and sense the pull as he sucked on it. She shuddered! When she looked 
into his eyes, she realized that he had been thinking of exactly the same thing.

"I'll have that cognac," she flustered, trying to cover her sudden confusion. Her
voice came out more huskily than usual.

Nino signaled the waiter for two cognacs. As they waited for their drinks in an 
uneasy silence Elaine remembered that she had not given him any money. She 
glanced around the garden. There were only three other people there---a very 
young couple and a man, the latter drinking steadily---but she did not like giving 
the bill to Nino in front of them. Or in front of the waiter.

It had been difficult to persuade Nino to put their friendship on a reasonable 
basis.

"No!" he had exclaimed on their second date when Elaine had offered to pay 
for herself. "You make me feel ashamed."

Elaine had been patient in her argument. She had also been determined to win
and finally she had gotten her own way, as usual.

"I appreciate your sentiment, Nino," she'd said. "But this is different. Us, I 
mean."

Without saying it outright, Elaine managed to convey that she understood 
Nino's financial difficulties. He had told her he worked as a tourist guide and his 
salary was abysmally low. After her first date with the young Italian, the young 
divorce had decided that she wanted to get to know him better. Besides, she 
would have her very own tourist guide. And she was quite certain in her or mind 
that she did not want to spend her time in cheap bars, which would be the only 
places he could afford.

While Elaine had been arguing her point, the boy had sat staring moodily into 
his empty coffee cup. She had not been sure whether he had understood her 
reasoning, but she was perfectly sure that he shared her desire for them to be 
together as much and as often as possible.

"Your husband---he gives you money?"

The blunt question had come unexpectedly, and she had recoiled in surprise. 
She had not expected him to ignore her expressed desire to avoid talking about 
her husband (her ex-husband, she reminded herself). But, on second thought, 
she supposed Nino's sudden callousness stemmed from his embarrassment about 
the money situation. She decided to be brisk and businesslike.

"No. I receive no alimony. My father gives me an allowance." Elaine's voice was
very cold and her tone successfully fended off any more unwanted questions.

Suddenly, his hand had covered hers as it lay on the table.

"I'm sorry," he'd said softly. "My poor, beautiful Elaine ..."

So he had understood after all! That night, Elaine paid exactly half the cost of 
the dinner and drinks.

On their next date, the young blonde had slipped several bills into the youth's 
hand and told him to pay for everything out of it. When he tried to return the 
bills, she'd pushed him away. Nino had stood firm; their argument developed into 
a physical struggle.

Fighting apparently aroused him. In the middle of their hassle, he had grabbed
her and kissed her so roughly that her lips had been bruised. They had been 
standing in shadow, oblivious of passers-by in the street, a few feet from Elaine's 
hotel, and the girl could not help wondering what might have happened if they 
hadn't been in such a public place. She hadn't realized before how strong he was, 
nor how quickly and easily inflamed.

Later that same night, she had lain in bed in her high-ceilinged room, restless 
and unable to sleep. She could still feel the boy's virile young body thrust itself 
demandingly against her. Her own desire swelled as she remembered it, and her 
hands moved of their own volition to trace the memory across the curve of her 
stomach and down. She rolled over onto her side, her body shuddering 
spasmodically. It was a long time before she drifted into uneasy sleep.

The subject of money had not been openly discussed again. Now as they sat in
the little garden behind the cafe, Elaine opened her purse and palmed a twenty 
dollar bill. Unobtrusively, she put her hand under the table and touched his leg. 
When his hand came to hers, she passed him the bill.

The waiter brought the two glasses of cognac which they had ordered. Nino 
gave the twenty to the waiter.

"What shall we toast to," she asked, raising her glass.

Nino raised his glass, touching hers. "To ... to tonight," he answered, a wide 
smile spreading across his expressive features.

Elaine hesitated a moment. She knew what the Italian boy meant by the 
phrase "tonight;" and it was obvious that soon, before tonight, she would have to 
make a decision as to how far she could let their friendship go ... if the decision 
hadn't already been made by her love-starved body. Finally she answered, "To 
tonight." When she raised the glass to her lips, the young blonde noticed her hand
was trembling.

They were still drinking an hour later, both of them sitting pensively in silence 
... occasionally moving to take a sip of their sixth cognac. The garden seemed 
suddenly empty without the constant chatter. The other couples in the cafe had 
gone; the lone man still sat drinking steadily, quietly absorbed in some alcoholic 
world of his own.

Elaine snuggled closer to Nino. He smiled. The cognac was doing its work ... 
enveloping her body and mind in languid sensuality. He slipped his hand to her 
ripely firm thigh, so wonderfully warm even through her thin summer frock. She 
glanced down at his hand but made no move to remove it.

His hand reached her knee, then slid underneath her cotton dress. She felt his 
fingers probing her inner thigh.

"Tonight, we will go to my apartment."

Nino's statement was blunt. Elaine felt she should refuse, but abruptly she also
knew she could not! She did not want to refuse.

His words became more coaxing. "We will eat dinner there. It will be nicer at 
the apartment."

Elaine nodded, durably. Neither of them was thinking of dinner. She looked at 
the youth's fine Italian features as he bent his head toward her. The steady look 
in his dark eyes sent a stab of excitement shooting through her belly. Swiftly, he 
leaned close and flicked his tongue between her lips. Then he straightened up and
gave her his hand. She staggered slightly as she rose.

When they went from the cafe up the hill toward California Street, they walked 
slowly ... their arms wrapped around each other's waists.


Chapter 8

As Carlo walked toward the apartment he shared with Nino, he reflected on the
afternoon's tour. As he had expected, it had proved fruitful. Of the eighteen girls 
he had quickly picked out two: fourteen-year-old Sharon, a slender blonde with a 
boy's hips and small pointy breasts; and sixteen-year-old Connie, a precocious 
redhead with the full figure of a mature woman. The rest had been easy.

As the tour had progressed, it became clear that Sharon and Connie were the 
leaders of a small clique of six or seven girls. They were very interested in Carlo, 
almost suffocating him with their attention. Dutifully he had droned on with 
information, pretending not to notice the frenetic flirting. He had been pleased to 
see that the girls were obviously piqued by his apparently disinterested attitude.

But his opening had not come until they were back at the hotel. As he was 
leaving Mr. and Mrs. Clark's room after planning the next days tour, one of the 
hallway doors opened and a finger beckoned. Carlo recognized the giggle coming 
through the half-opened door. It was Connie.

Eight girls were sprawled around the room. They were in varying stages of 
undress, supposedly getting ready for dinner. It seemed that Connie had been 
elected spokeswoman for the group.

"Carlo," she said as soon as he entered the room, we want to ask you 
something. Can you tell us where we can go to have some fun in this dump? 
We're sick and tired of this ten o'clock bedtime deal. Anyone would think we were 
kids! Aren't there any nightclubs or something?"

Carlo lounged against the door, looking slowly around the room. Then he 
started talking. The situation was tailor-made for him.

Making the necessary arrangements with the girls had been easy. His only 
problem had been holding them back until the next night. They'd wanted to go 
right away. But now it was all laid on the line. The following evening, the girls 
would pretend to go to bed as usual, after dinner. Once they were sure Mr. and 
Mrs. Clark were out of the way, they'd sneak out of the hotel. Carlo would be 
waiting for them outside. He had promised them a party they would never forget 
...

The party though would take considerable planning and there were many 
telephone calls to be made. He would make them from the apartment, even 
though this was Nino's night.

He quickened his pace, knowing he had to reach the apartment before Nino. 
According to their agreement, Carlo had no right to it tonight, should not even be 
near it! It was one of their strictest rules, one he, himself, had absolutely insisted 
on. Now he was going to be the first to break it.

But it's important, he argued with himself! If I don't make the calls 
immediately, it will be too late. I must speak to Marceau tonight. And the Count. 
And everyone else. The apartment is the only place I dare use.

And anyway, he mused, Nino would probably be late. The way his friend went 
about working an a girl, he might not get her to the apartment until after 
midnight. Meanwhile, all that was necessary was a half hour on the telephone. 
Nothing else!

As he walked, Carlo wondered whether he might not claim one of the school 
girls for himself. They were attractive, sexy little things. They knew how to arouse
a man. At that age they did it instinctively and were exciting in bed without being 
blas about it.

The pleasure of taking a young girl was something Carlo had not experienced 
for many months. Not since the summer before, in fact. There had been hundreds
of other women in the interim, naturally, almost all of them older than Carlo. 
There had also been several men, but a job is a job.

The party he was about to organize should be very interesting. The Italian 
youth was entirely absorbed in his plans by the time he hurriedly opened the 
street door and strode swiftly through the hall, taking the stairs three at a time. 
He was so anxious to get to the telephone that he completely forgot to check on 
the prearranged signal---the open mailbox door which showed whether the 
apartment was already occupied.

It was not until he reached the apartment landing that he remembered he 
hadn't checked the mailbox, but by that time he was already inside the door. It 
was dark in the narrow hallway, but the worried youth didn't need the light. There
were two doors leading off the corridor, one at the far end and one on the 
left-hand side. Both were shut, and no light filtered into the passage. Carlo 
breathed a sigh of relief. Nino and his girl had not yet arrived.

In two strides, Carlo reached the door on the left, opening into the kitchen. He 
went straight to the refrigerator and took out a bottle of beer, snapped off the cap
and poured out a glassful. He drained 'he beer in a couple of gulps, then refilled 
the glass. He felt hot and thirsty.

The kitchen was large, simply furnished and had the bleak look common to 
rooms that are seldom used. A wooden table and four chairs stood under the 
window. Carlo could not remember a meal ever having been eaten there.

Carrying his glass of beer in one hand, Carlo went back into the hall and then 
through the second door. This led into a room twice the size of the kitchen, it was 
furnished as a living room but also served as a bedroom. A double bed was 
concealed in a piece of furniture that looked like a sideboard and book-shelf unit. 
There were also three small easy chairs, two large leather armchairs, a 
velour-covered divan, a bureau, two leather hassocks, a couple of occasional 
tables and a massive, highly polished wardrobe that dominated one entire wall.

Light came into the room through the long windows in the far wall. A red velvet
curtain hung in one corner; behind the curtain another door led into a gold-tiled 
bathroom.

A magazine lay on one of the small tables; several ashtrays needed emptying. 
The cushions on the divan were rumpled. The room was definitely not tidy. Yet, 
cluttered as it was, it did not really look as if it were lived in. It had the 
atmosphere of temporary usefulness.

Carlo glanced at his watch. Christ! It was seven-thirty. He would have to hurry 
if he was to get out before Nino arrived. Pulling a key ring out of his hip pocket, 
he selected the smallest key and fitted it into the lock of the bureau. After taking 
a leather-covered notebook from inside, he carefully relocked the bureau again.

He sat down beside the cane table on which the telephone stood. "Verner, 
Verner," he muttered, as he thumbed hastily through his notebook. "Ah." He 
started dialing a seven-digit number.

"Hello?"

Carlo recognized the voice of Nick, Marceau's valet.

"This is Carlo," he announced himself. "Is Marceau there?"

The valet told him to wait, and it was a full five minutes before Marceau came 
on the line. Carlo had counted every precious minute on his watch. The 
conversation began with polite inquires about health, followed by a rundown on 
the latest San Francisco gossip. The anxious youth contained himself patiently. 
After several more minutes of social chitchat, he felt the moment was appropriate
to broach the subject of the young girls.

"It's a little difficult for me to arrange the party here," Marceau objected at 
once, as Carlo had known he would.

Carlo ignored the objection.

"There is a young blonde," he murmured softly. "She is barely fourteen, so slim
and fair and so fragile ..."

"But tomorrow night?" Marceau grumbled pettishly. "Couldn't you have given 
me more notice?"

"She is a virgin," Carlo went on. "There are others, too. One with hair to her 
waist and the figure of a child ..."

There was a pause. Marceau spoke again, in a slightly thickened tone.

"You realize it's not convenient for me." He cleared his throat, "A blonde did 
you say? Ah! I need time, you understand. I'll call you back. You seem to think I 
can arrange a party at a moments notice and entirely at your convenience. I'm a 
busy man, you know, my responsibilities."

Carlo held the receiver away from his ear; he had heard all these complaints 
many times before. While Marceau grumbled unconvincingly, the young Italian 
was already checking through his book for the phone number of the Count. As 
soon as the aging playboy rang off, he dialed the other number.

The conversation was short and satisfactory. The Count was enchanted to hear 
from Carlo. A party thrown by Marceau Verner? For a group of young girls? But 
how delightful! Very young girls? The Count would never forgive himself for not 
taking the opportunity to pay his respects.

"You'll come alone?" asked Carlo, holding the telephone in one hand while 
lighting a fresh cigarette with the other.

"Yes. That is---no, no, no." The Count sounded confused. "I have a house 
guest. From back east. That is all right?"

"Fine." All Carlo wanted to do was finish the call. He didn't care whether or not 
the Count brought his house guest to the party. "Male or female?" he asked.

"Male."

"Fine."

The phone call finally came to an end. Carlo stubbed out his cigarette and 
immediately lit another. He needed to think carefully for a moment or two. Who 
else should be invited? Marceau always insisted that his little "parties" should be 
at least outwardly respectable. Which meant that some women had to be included
on the guest list. And some young men. Well, Benito would do for one. Then 
there'd be himself and ... and maybe Nino. Sure, Nino! It would serve him right. 
As for the women ... Maria Accari was an old friend of both Marceau and the 
Count, so she should be invited. She'd probably bring her young friend Sue along.

Again, Carlo checked his watch. It was eight-fifteen. He considered for a 
moment. If he remained in the apartment any longer, he would really be pushing 
his luck. On the other hand the phone calls had to be made at once. He grabbed 
the receiver off the hook. As he began dialing, he said a silent prayer that Nino 
was taking things slow and easy.

Half a dozen calls later, the boy stubbed out another cigarette and stood up 
with a sigh of relief, fully satisfied with the arrangements. He glanced at his 
watch. It was eight-forty-five.

He pushed the notebook into his jacket pocket. He would not bother unlocking 
the bureau again. The cigarette smoke didn't matter---the apartment usually 
smelled of stale smoke. It was unlikely that anyone would notice the traces of his 
visit.

He was halfway across the living room when a sudden noise made him stop in 
his tracks. There were footsteps on the landing outside the apartment. He froze, 
waiting. A key was being turned in the lock of the apartment door! There was a 
pause ... then the sound of Nino's voice came from the far end of the hall.

Sonofabitch! This was bad. Carlo hesitated for only a fraction of a second, but 
he felt as though he stood, poised, listening and waiting, for an eternity. As his 
thoughts raced, two salient points were firm in his mind. Nino would be furious if 
he discovered that Carlo had used the apartment out of turn. Secondly, Carlo's 
presence might well ruin his friend's whole setup. Nino had told Elaine the 
apartment was his own bachelor pad; Carlo knew that for a fact. He also knew 
Elaine was a rich girl. There was only one thing he could do to salvage the 
situation. He had to hide.

As Nino and Elaine stepped into the hall, Carlo acted swiftly. Two silent steps 
brought him to the outsized wardrobe. He turned the old-fashioned brass handle 
and thanked God that the huge doors didn't squeak as they opened. He stepped 
into the darkness and quickly pulled the doors closed behind him. In the musky 
black interior of the old wardrobe, all he could hear at first was the thumping of 
his own heart.

"Oh, but it's a cute place!"

Elaine's exclamation carried quite clearly inside the wardrobe. Instinctively, 
Carlo turned his head toward the sound of her voice. To his surprise, he found 
that his hiding place gave him a good view of the lighted room. There was a wide 
gap where the two wardrobe doors no longer fitted together perfectly. It was wide
enough to make him wonder for a moment whether the boy and girl could see in 
as well as he could see out. Common sense reassured him. He was safe enough, 
provided he kept quiet.

"You like my apartment?" Nino asked.

"Mmmm, yes. It has great possibilities," Elaine said thoughtfully. "The 
furnishings don't look quite right, somehow, but if someone took an interest in the
dcor ..."

The young blonde was standing in the middle of the room, looking around her. 
She was in Carlo's direct line of new. When Nino appeared by her side and put his
arm around her waist, she did not resist him.

Carlo found he had enough room to sit down. He lowered himself cautiously, 
making no sound. When he was comfortably settled, he peered out again.

He appraised the girl as she stood across the room from him, totally unaware 
of his scrutiny. Nino had switched on one of the lamps; in its light, Elaine's 
pale-blonde hair gleamed softly. It hung straight to her shoulders, shaking like a 
silken curtain with every movement of her head. Her skin looked almost 
translucent in the artificial light.

Nino pulled her closer to him.

"You are very beautiful," he said simply, gazing into her upturned face with a 
look of utmost sincerity.

She's ready for a fucking all right, thought Carlo, observing the flush of 
excitement across the girl's cheeks and the brilliant blue of her eyes. He saw her 
wetly parted lips open.

"No, Nino," she whispered. Her hand pushed feebly at his chest. "No, no ..." 
Her whisper was almost inaudible.

In answer, Nino gripped her more tightly. He bent his head and kissed her full 
upturned mouth. Carlo watched as the sensually beautiful girl made one last 
attempt to pull away before she abandoned herself to Nino's embrace. She rose 
on tiptoe, and her ripely voluptuous body arched backward as the Italian boy bore
down on her. His hand groped roughly for her straining upthrust breast; Carlo saw
his fingers spread greedily across it.

Suddenly, Elaine twisted violently away from him. She was breathing hard and 
trembling; unsteadily, she moved back and sank onto the divan behind her. She 
buried her face in her hands; there was a sound of muffled sobs.

Nino's eyes narrowed as he stood looking at her. Then he took a deep breath 
and sat beside her on the couch. Gently, very gently, he took her hands away 
from her face.

"Is something wrong?" he asked.

"Please, Nino. I don't want ... I don't know ..." Elaine's voice trailed away. She 
seemed close to hysteria.

"I love you, Elaine," the boy softly murmured. He dropped a kiss into the palm 
of her hand. "I love you because you are so beautiful and so wonderful. You are 
the most wonderful girl I have ever met in my whole life."

From his hiding place, Carlo saw the young divorce's body begin to relax at 
the words. Her face became calmer.

"But ... you hardly know me ... How can you know? How can you tell if you 
love me?"

He smiled, and put his arm around her again. After a moment, she lay 
passively against him.

"I knew from the first time I saw you," he said.

Her blue eyes stared into his face.

"Me, too," she breathed, her lush young body quivering with a rapidly growing 
desire. She closed her eyes and waited for him to kiss her again.

As Nino bent over her, he could see the curve of her thick lashes against her 
delicate skin. For the first time that evening, he was touched by genuine emotion.
Then his lips met hers and he forgot everything except that his physical desire for
this blonde girl overwhelmed every other consideration.

His tongue swam into her mouth, and he felt her tongue, trembling, fleeing 
before his onslaught. Then, imperceptibly at first, she began to respond. The low 
moan was wrenched from the depths of her soul, and her arms snaked around his
shoulders pulling him in closer to her. Their tongues fought a pitched battle for 
supremacy, then she acknowledged defeat and permitted his tongue to move in 
and out of her mouth as though it were some incredibly small, overly excited 
penis.

The darkly handsome youth began using his hands to stroke her back. At first 
he concentrated on a point just above and inward from the shoulder 
blades---where he knew the erogenous breastbands lay. Then he moved down to 
a point on the back just above the soft fullness of her smoothly rounded 
buttocks---massaging gently, kneading with his fingertips.

She began trembling and moaning low in her throat as Nino's hungrily 
searching hands moved freely over her back. It was not until he cupped her right 
breast in his palm that she tried to pull away and protest. The objection lasted 
less than twenty seconds, and then she seemed to move in even closer to him. 
During it all their tongues played---chasing, darting, hiding, stroking each other. 
The youth's left hand moved gently up the back of her dress and found the zipper.
He tugged at it, and the soft whisper was lost in her moan. Using his left hand 
only, he expertly unsnapped her brassiere. She stiffened when she felt the sudden
release of pressure against her breasts, and attempted to shake her head. He, 
however, paid no heed to her unspoken protest. Quickly, as though he were 
unwrapping a priceless artifact, he peeled the thin cotton material from her left 
shoulder. The dress now hung suspended by her left breast and her right 
shoulder. Then, and only then, did his mouth leave hers.

"Nino ... we can't ..." she began, but then closed her eyes in rapture as his 
tongue began tracing a wild pattern of sensation down her neck and across her 
shoulder. Lower, lower his mouth moved until he felt her bra cup against his chin. 
He simply reached up and pulled it loose. Her creamy breast, like a fully ripened 
melon, was there before his eyes. In the middle of the areola, her erect nipple 
stood like a bulging brown ivory tower. With a loud groan of hunger, his voracious 
mouth fastened itself moistly on the succulent mound of flesh. His groan was 
echoed by her moan, and tremulously, her hands came up and cupped his head, 
holding it there in reverence and unconcealed pleasure.

"Nino ... oh, Nino," she said, over and over again as his teeth nibbled at the 
nipple, and his mouth and tongue played havoc with the passion-inflamed nerve 
ends. After a moment, he reached up with his other hand and slowly pulled down 
the right cup. His devouring mouth moved over to that side, leaving the left tit 
shining with his saliva. Now Elaine's dress was held up only by her right shoulder, 
and she made only a token protest when he slipped the dress all the way down to
her waist. Both shoulders were bare and her magnificent naked breasts were 
revealed to Ins eyes.

Abruptly, his mouth left her nipples and worked its way upward once more. 
They kissed savagely, and her own hunger was so great that her teeth actually bit
into his lips.

Then, suddenly, Elaine felt his hands move away from her body. "What? What 
..." she began, stifling a plea to come back. She opened her eyes and saw Nino 
standing in front of her. Her gaze locked on the huge bulge in his pants where his 
massively aroused penis raged against its confinement.

"Stand up," he said.

"What?" She didn't understand.

"Stand up, baby. I'm going to undress you."

Her breath caught at this unexpected command, then---actually blushing 
because she was going to have to be a willing participant and net a passive 
one---she started up from the couch. When she stood fully erect, her 
dress---already off both shoulders, fell in a heap on the floor. Her naked breasts 
were there, shining in tie half-light; and her black panties were rolled halfway 
down over her smooth alabaster hips.

Nino gazed at her. She had an absolutely incredible body! Nothing he had ever 
seen b fore could top this---maybe one or two of the Forth Beach dancers he had 
fucked could come close to matching the body, but never before this combination 
of body and face. His voice surprised him; it sounded alien, hoarse, all choked up 
with desire, when he said, "My God, you're beautiful!" He took a step forward, 
kneeled in front of her and, with one quick sure motion, peeled her little black 
bikini panties down to her ankles. He gently lifted her right leg, then her left, 
disengaging her feet from the panties, before tossing the nylon undergarment on 
the couch.

His eyes focused on the nylon hosiery held up by the garterbelt and he decided
to leave the stockings and belt on her; the nylons would feel tremendously 
sensual against his own bare buttocks when she wrapped those long satiny legs 
around him. Still kneeling before her, he looked up ... up ... up, past the tops of 
the nylon hosiery, and saw and smelled the enticing female aroma coming from 
the softly pouting lips of her cunt ... all pink and shining from her oozing vaginal 
lubricant. He thought about eating her pussy while she was standing, but some 
instinct told him to wait until he got her lying flat on the couch. Even though he 
had made the decision, he still found himself raining kisses on her nylon-encased 
legs and thighs, working his way from calf to thigh.

Elaine stood there, legs apart, feeling spasmodic jolts of ecstasy surge 
throughout her entire love-hungry young body with each kiss he planted on her 
nylons. She could feel the heat of his lips through the material of the hosiery 
could feel the cool rush of air playing over her bare buttocks and breasts. For 
some reason or other, she felt deliciously lewd, just standing here wearing only 
garter belt and stockings. But then she forgot everything when his hot lips came 
into contact with the nude flesh above the top of her nylons. He rained kisses on 
both thighs and used his tongue to lick the sleek inner part of her thighs from just
above the point where the stockings ended to ... to ... She stiffened as his lips 
suddenly leapt from thigh to navel. A wild, never before experienced excitement 
began to burn in her. His kisses were traveling over abdomen to hips and he was 
gently tugging at her figure to turn her around ... obediently she turned, and now 
his lips were moving over the lower part of her back ... and then to her slightly 
trembling buttocks.

His lips and kisses on her bare flesh had started things happening in her body. 
She could actually feel her vagina contracting and releasing, push and pull, in a 
violent rhythm of love ... as if his penis were actually in there moving in and out. 
Her full ripe breasts had begun to ache, and her body was beginning to tremble 
uncontrollably.

Elaine had never felt so weak. So helpless before in her life. She stood there, 
waiting for whatever was to happen next, as Nino's hungry lips left her buttocks 
and he stood upright. The young Italian put his hands on her shoulders and slowly
turned her to face him again. Their mouths came together hungrily, and his 
tongue tucked in and out of her mouth rapaciously. Then, still French-kissing, he 
eased her down onto the couch. She sat, then lay back, face up, as Nino put her 
legs in the position he wanted them, with one leg on the floor and the other bent 
at the knee and pressed against the back of the couch.

The young blonde divorce lay there, mesmerized, as the darkly handsome 
youth quickly pulled off his shoes and socks, stripped off tie and shirt, and then 
dropped his pants and undershorts at exactly the same moment. She saw him 
standing there above her, just as naked as she, his face gazing down at her with 
unconcealed lust. Her eyes traveled down from handsome face to broad muscular 
shoulders, and flat belly, and ... and ...

The thick rigid penis stood out proudly, like a king's scepter, from his curly 
patch of black hair. Even as she watched it, it jerked as though it were trying to 
reach out for her. Its huge, lust-bloated head seemed to throb with an 
unbelievable life of its own.

"Do you like it, baby?" Nino asked softly, watching as her body twisted 
seductively on the black velour couch ... as though she were trying to grind the 
material into her buttocks. "Christ," he thought, "the way she's looking at my 
cock almost makes me think she wants to suck it off."

"Yes ... oh, yes," she moaned. "I like it. It's ... beautiful."

Nino knew he was going to worm his tongue up into that delectable young 
pussy before he shoved his cock into it, and he deliberated the possibilities of a 
sixty-nine. But again, his sure, infallible instincts told him that such a thing might 
be a little premature; later, definitely! But she'd have to be brought along. He just
couldn't understand it. What kind of a man had she been worried to? He'd 
probably never gone down on her ... and, if I'm right, never had her sucking on 
his cock, even though she looks starved for it.

Elaine was beginning to feel the fires of impatience when she saw the boy 
lower himself onto the couch beside her. His bare hip touched her naked rib cage 
and she jumped as if seared by a hot brand. His head dipped once again to her 
fevered breasts. She groaned as he took first one nipple, then the other, into his 
voracious mouth. He licked and bit and sucked until Elaine wanted to scream out 
in ecstatic delight. Waves of pure sensation rippled throughout her entire body, 
and she could feel it from the tips of her jutting nipples to the tips of her toes.

Now Nino's head dipped lower, as he used his tongue to sketch a portrait of 
lust between her rapidly heaving breast and navel. He kissed and sucked and 
gently bit at the hotly sensitive areas where the hipbone serves as an anchor for 
supple flesh that flares out to become globes of the buttocks, and his warm wet 
kisses rained over the sides of her naked young buttocks.

Then abruptly, she was aware that his tongue and mouth were coming back 
again to the front, and that he had moved down until he was kneeling between 
her outspread thighs. His tongue flicked once at her navel, then drew a straight 
uninterrupted line to her sparse, softly curling pubic hair. He breathed hotly into 
the softness of the golden pelt; it was at that moment Elaine first realized what 
Nino was going to do next and knew the throbbing target of his fevered lips and 
tongue.

"No," she said, and attempted to sit upright. "No ... that's wrong." It was 
terribly wrong what he was about to do ... perverted, dirty!

Nino heard her words; they sounded sincere, and that caused him to grin 
inwardly because he knew now, positively, that her husband had never done this 
to her ... for if he had gone down on her, she wouldn't be protesting; she would 
know how wonderful it was! He remained where he was, kneeling between her 
widespread legs, his fingers digging into the soft warm flesh of her inner thighs. 
His eyes paid homage to the wonderful little mouth of sex, all pink and oozing 
love from the pair of cuntal lips pulsating gently on either side of it. It was the 
shrine, he the pilgrim who had traveled a long distance to pay homage.

"No ... Nino ... please ... please ..." she moaned. "You can't ..."

"I can, baby. Just lie there. I want to do this for you. This is one of the most 
exquisite things a woman can feel. Lie there, let me do the work for a minute. I'm
going to kiss and lick your pussy. Oh, if you only knew how beautiful your little 
cunt is, how I've wanted to do this for you. I'm going to lick and suck at your 
clitoris; you'll scream with joy. I'm going to bury my tongue deep into your pussy 
... and I'm going to suck and lick until you cum."

The salacious words and what they implied, the visual imagery of what was 
about to happen, caused the love-starved young blonde to begin shaking with a 
wanton, uncontrollable desire. She was about to permit a degenerate act to be 
done to her down there between her helplessly open legs ... not only permit it, 
but knowingly encourage it to be done because her body was crying out for it. 
She knew that her pelvis had felt as though it were about to rise eagerly toward 
his lips at any minute. Shame, guilt, fear ... all disappeared under the tidal wave 
of shameless lust. Nothing mattered any more. She wanted him to do it. His 
words had set fires in her loins, fires that rapidly roared out of control and 
vaporized willpower and conscience. She had never felt so completely at the 
mercy of a man before. She would consent to anything. Anything! Just so long as 
he did what he said he was going to do ... as long as he gave her relief and joy 
and happiness.

"Oh, Nino ..." she whispered, then lay back, feeling the velour scratching 
against her bare shoulders and tickling the inner crevice of her buttocks. There 
was a movement on the couch, then the Italian youth said, "Lift your hips." Eyes 
closed, she followed orders and felt a large pillow being shoved under her 
buttocks. Almost immediately, he began showering her belly with wildly fervent 
kisses. His hot mouth moved up again to her feverishly straining breasts then to 
her rib cage; his tongue flicked and quivered all over her upper torso. The naked 
young divorce was about to go out of her mind with lust. Her hips had begun 
grinding a lewdly sensuous circle around and around on the pillow, and her head 
started lolling from side to side. Finally, in a voice she hardly recognized as her 
own, she moaned, begging, "Do it ... do it to me ... please ..."

"Do what?" Nino asked, watching her lust contorted face, feeling his cock about
to explode from excitement. Christ, she was really turned on now ... she was 
about to fly right off the couch, and he hadn't even started the preliminaries.

"Lick me ... like you said," Elaine whimpered and then sobbed in shame.

Grinning in triumph, the boy moved slowly and tantalizingly down her abdomen
again. He was deliberately tormenting her, turning her heat up higher and higher. 
Her pelvis was making little up-and-down motions as though it were blindly 
seeking something. Finally, not even he could stand the sweet torment any longer,
so he roughly spread her thighs even further apart, used his thumbs to separate 
her soft, hair-fringed 'vaginal lips, and then without warning savagely rammed his
tongue deep into her hotly quivering cunt.

"Ohhhhhhhhhh," Elaine screamed as the sleek hot tongue slashed into her, 
harder and harder, and her body reacted with convulsive lurches. Her hands 
cruelly grasped his hair, as if attempting to rip it out by the roots, and seemingly 
tried to pull his tongue his nose, his entire face deeper, ever deeper, into her 
cock-starved vaginal cavity. She heard herself screaming incoherently, babbling. 
Above the sound of her wanton voice urging him on, she kept thinking, "Oh, my 
God! How beautiful, how exquisite! Why hasn't this happened to me before? Why?
Why? Why? It feels so ... so ... wonder ... fulllllll."

Nino continued his voracious sucking and tonguing of her moistly quivering 
pussy, his hands slipping up over her belly to her taut moon-shaped breasts once 
more, cupping and squeezing the bulging creamy flesh continuously while his 
mouth and tongue slaved away over her torridly rippling vagina.

The vacuum created by Nino's voraciously sucking mouth made obscene noises
that seemed to fill the room, and Elaine reacted to the lewd sound as if it were 
the music of love---as, indeed, it was. Now that the boy's wildly searching tongue 
had scoured the pussy sheath, it began to seek the tiny, pulsating bud of her 
neglected clitoris.

Elaine shrieked with obscenely growing pleasure when he took the little budded
nerve ending between his teeth and held it captive as his tongue made wicked, 
ecstatic little circles around and around it.

Elaine's head had begun to flail in total abandonment from side to side; her 
hips were thrashing up and down---around and around---as she sought to bring 
other erotic nerve endings into play with his tongue.

Nino made an elongated oval of his mouth and began to suck with tremendous 
pressure, all the while moving his tongue downward along the fevered, incredibly 
smooth slit. He licked from clitoris to a point close to the anus, feeling the soft 
curling pubic hair teasing against his lips and cheeks, tasting the bittersweet 
honey of her feminine secretions and the slightly saline perspiration that brought 
a tantalizing sheen to her buttocks.

Elaine's wails of delight had become continuous now; she no longer attempted 
to make sense ... no longer could make sense ... unintelligible moans, groans, 
mewls, and grunts came babbling out her throat. During it all her mind was 
screaming, "Wonderful ... oh, God! So ... beautiful ... so bea ... uuuuu ... teeee ...
ful." And, suddenly, somewhere in the far-off limits of her consciousness, she was 
aware of a velvet electricity building up and moving, quietly and unobtrusively, 
warm and vibrant. She arched her body up, seeking to intensify that electrical 
feeling.

From his place of concealment, in the closet, Carlo could see Elaine's face 
flushing red from the intensity of her effort, her eyes wide in unseeing rapture in 
her quest for fulfillment; although he prided himself in his monumental 
self-control, he had an erection that would have done justice to a stallion.

As Elaine ground her pussy greedily up against his face, Nino heard the sound 
of her breathing increase in tempo. He realized then that she was coming close to
orgasm now, and a part of his mind exalted with the knowledge. By God, he 
thought, she's going to get the surprise of her life when she cums. The knowledge
that he was licking her where no one had ever licked before brought new strength
to his tongue. He began to orally fuck her, harder and faster, deeper and harder, 
faster ... faster ... faster, shoving his hard hot tongue into her quivering, 
lust-dilated slit. He was rewarded by a shrill scream of pleasure when he swirled 
and flicked his tongue around the overly sensitive, pulsating inner lips of her 
vagina. She was coming closer, ever closer, and so he slipped his hands beneath 
her wantonly undulating buttocks---cupping them in his hands as though they 
were some sacrificial offering---and shoved his face even harder between her 
pulsating thighs. He watched her face appear and disappear between her 
bouncing breasts and sank his teeth---not brutally, but savagely enough to bring 
pain---into her clitoris once more, causing her to scream again ... an unholy 
shriek of pure animal lust, her lips curling in wild contortion back over the 
whiteness of her teeth.

Elaine's wanton cries of passion filled the living room. She had long since 
burrowed her nakedness down into the velour couch---and she could feel the 
material's nap invading her buttocks, could feel it under her armpits, on the back 
of her sweat-slippery neck. If his wonderful tongue hadn't been shoved deep into 
her vagina she would have attempted to push the velour in there.

Abruptly, Nino dipped down and began shifting his shoulders---first the left, 
then the right. He had them under her widespread thighs now, and began levering
them up until they were draped over his shoulders. The entire expanse of her 
inflamed, helpless loins was now bared in naked abandonment to his long 
thrusting tongue and voraciously sucking mouth. He thrust his tongue in deeper 
than it had been at any time, and momentarily thought he could feel, with his 
tongue, the ending of her warm vaginal cavity and the beginning of her hot lonely
uterus aching for a cock.

Elaine knew she was moaning like a helpless animal in heat, and she didn't 
care. Nothing mattered any longer except that tongue which was carrying her to 
unsuspected heights of rapture. Deep in her mind, a happy ecstatic little voice 
kept crying out, "Oh, Nino ... thank you ... oh, God ... wonderful ... good ... 
good.. ahhh ... God!" She was peaking, rapidly climbing to that seldom-reached 
pinnacle of sensation which she knew would result in an orgasm. The climb had 
been wonderful ... and she knew she had long since passed the point of arousal 
where she had stopped with just a mere orgasm before. She had never been at 
his height before, and abruptly, Nino began doing something that drove her ahead
of him ... higher ... higher ... higher into the forbidden ratified atmosphere of the 
forbidden delight.

Her buttocks had been jerking spasmodically beneath his relentless tongue, 
her pelvis had been whipping up and down with superhuman strength against his 
face, and her groans had turned to moans which had become shrieks of 
unexcelled rapture, when Nino slowly slipped his tongue out of her desperately 
clenching vagina. He made one tentative lick at her clitoris, which brought a 
scream of delight from her, then began a devilishly slow downward licking toward 
the tiny puckered ring of her obviously virginal anus. The shamelessly aroused 
young blonde gasped at the first searing contact with that forbidden orifice. Her 
breath was coming now in huge gulping swallows which rasped and whistled 
through her lust-constricted throat. She took a deep breath and almost swallowed
her tongue when her errant mind finally realized what the Italian boy was about 
to do. Now her conscience really screamed at her; this was filthy, degenerate, vile
and perverted. It was sinful, the ultimate sin! And even as her conscience cried 
out in dismay and protest, her hungry, traitorous loins had leapt up and spread 
her thighs wider of their own volition so he could bring his tongue into seething 
wet contact with the tiny, puckered little anal mouth.

Nino wasted no time; he thrust his tongue into the tight little hole and was 
rewarded with an uncontrollable quivering of her lushly naked body as she raised 
her pelvis off the bed in an effort to give him additional depth and working room. 
He licked and sucked and continually rammed his tongue into the tiny little anus 
which gyrated in wanton abandonment; there was no taste except a salinity and 
slight pungency that reminded him of her pussy. Now, across his shoulders, her 
thighs had begun to quiver spasmodically and her heels had begun beating a 
tattoo of impending rapture on his spine and buttocks. She was close, so 
goddamned close that he could stop right now and she'd still cum without another
thing being done to her. Let her cum! Let her cum first by tongue, then by cock! 
His painfully throbbing penis soon had to have relief or his balls would swell up in 
agony and probably explode. He began to drive his long wet tongue harder and 
harder into her tightly puckering anal passage, all the while exciting her clitoris 
with one hand and squeezing her breasts with the other. Abruptly, as he heard her
breath catch in what he knew was the beginning of the onslaught of a climax, he 
drew his tongue out of her anus, returned it to her saliva and lubricant-drenched 
pussy, and used his mouth and tongue to orally fuck her while his nose scraped 
and rubbed her clitoris.

That did it!

Elaine writhed and squirmed beneath the insanely licking tongue until she no 
longer had control over anything. She took a deep breath as nerves began 
shorting out in her abdomen and a glow began somewhere in the area of her 
wildly quivering vagina. The glow did not remain a glow for more than a second; 
it was merely the beginning of a fire and earthquake which began wracking her 
love-starved loins and belly. The earthquake moved rapidly up the scale and 
suddenly she knew there wasn't any doubt about it. She was Cumming! Cumming
in his mouth.

She was cumming!

The scream was half-human, half-animal, and it ripped from her lust-contorted 
throat as though she were falling in space, toppling end over end toward the 
jagged rocks.

"I'm cumming ... Nino ... Nino ... NINO! I AM ... CUMMMM ... ING!" She locked 
her hands behind his head and used every bit of muscular power to shove his 
wonderful, pleasure-giving tongue and face further and deeper into her wildly 
pulsating genitals. Her love juices spurted onto his face and then began to flow 
copiously from her wetly convulsing cunt. Her viscous liquid inundated Nino's face
and tongue and, escaping his voraciously sucking mouth, began flowing down 
from pussy to tortured rectum, where it dripped against the pillow and gathered 
in a sticky pool on the velour couch. She continued to wail in rapture as the 
mercilessly pounding earthquake began to diminish; within seconds it had gone, 
but now dimly within her lush young body she felt the roaring tidal wave of 
sensation cresting and breaking over her. Her delighted, almost incoherent 
scream told the story, "I'm cumming again ..."

Surprised, Nino felt her nakedly voluptuous body begin twitching uncontrollably
once more. The second orgasm had hit within thirty seconds of the first, and he 
hadn't done a thing except lick some of her cum from her wet vaginal lips. 
"Christ," he said to himself, "she really was turned on." And then his surprise 
deepened even further for the wantonly writhing girl was obviously cumming a 
third time ... all three climaxes occurring within a minute.

Elaine's impending climax was more than the hidden Carlo could bear, and his 
own massively thick cock had sprung to an even greater tautness as he watched 
his friend hungrily suck at the delectable blonde's pussy. His hand had slipped at 
his fly, released the straining member, and slowly began stroking the bulbous 
shaft.

Somewhat in awe of what he had done, and a little apprehensive, Nino pulled 
his flushed, glistening face away from Elaine's loins and said, "Save some for me, 
baby."

She heard his voice from far, far off. The earthquake, the tidal wave, both were
fading slowly. It had been so violently exquisite ... so beautiful ... that she wanted
to sleep---to doze off with the memory of it still in her mind. Nothing could ever 
again be so exquisite, so perfect. She felt her legs being lowered from his 
shoulders, and, with a sigh of satiated exhaustion, she dropped her arms and let 
her head fall loosely back. Now her hips were being lifted as the pillow was 
removed. Now, the velour was caressing her buttocks once more. But even as she
felt all this, there was a velvet expectancy once again in the far depths of her 
uterus and vaguely she perceived that she was cumming again---only this tiny 
one was merely an aftershock, a little present from her body, a song, a memory, 
a poem to his tongue ... small, but delightful.

The darkly handsome youth looked down at her sweet-streaked nakedness. 
She was taking deep, shuddering breaths of exhaustion and satiation. His 
apprehension returned again. She looked as if she had been fucking all night and 
was too tired to go again. He hoped her energy hadn't been depleted completely; 
he'd like a little life in the pussy. He lifted himself on his knees and moved up until
he was over her body. "Elaine ... did you like that?"

She heard his voice and then, abruptly, she was inexplicably weeping. The 
tears had completely inundated her eyes in less than three seconds, and they 
were already flowing down her cheeks to splash on the velour couch. God he had 
made her feel so vitally alive, so beautiful ... and she knew she had missed so 
much out of life because of Warren's inadequacy and ignorance.

Alarmed, Nino asked, "Elaine ... is everything all right?"

Now she opened her eyes and gazed lovingly up at his face looming over her. 
She made no effort to answer at first, merely reached up with both hands and 
pulled his face down to her. She kissed him eagerly and in appreciation. She 
tasted her own cum, her own vagina! After a moment, she released him with the 
statement; "My darling ... it was ... was ... beautiful." And even as she said it, she
realized how impotent that word "beautiful" was when it came to expressing her 
true feelings. "Nino ... I never realized anything, could be so ... so ..." She 
couldn't finish.

The boy grinned in satisfaction. "It's going to be even better because I'm going
to fuck you now. I'm going to put my cock where my tongue was a moment ago. 
It aches and cries out for you, it wants to fuck you ... I want to shoot my load of 
hot, throbbing cum deep in your belly, deeper than anyone has ever been before. 
What you just had was only the beginning. You do want me to fuck you, don't 
you?"

His lewd obscenities were an aphrodisiac to her. Sensation was rapidly coming 
back to her vagina, and it was with complete and utter bewilderment that Elaine 
realized her earlier hunger had returned tenfold. She wanted more of him, and so 
she told him using his own language, "Yes ... fuck me ... fuck me harder and 
deeper than I've ever been fucked before."

"Put it in for me," Nino ordered, lowering his hips toward her sensually waiting 
body.

Elaine paused a moment, then reached down between their bodies and 
searched for his hardness. She found it immediately; it would have been 
impossible not to find it, as large and as hard as it was. She thrilled as her fingers
wrapped around its hot throbbing vibrancy. She could feel every muscle, every 
tendon, every beating vein in that gods-head. She enclosed it tightly in her fist, 
then stroked it, moving the pliant flesh up and down on the inflexible shaft. She 
was pleased when he moaned with delight from the touch of her hand and 
fingers; she wanted to delight him, to repay him some way.

There were a lot of things she supposed she could do, but she had no 
knowledge of what he would consider dirty ... or unacceptable. Besides, the heat 
was building up rapidly in her loins. Her wetly throbbing vagina wanted his long 
hard penis in there---wanted it in the worst way. Even now she imagined she 
could feel it sliding down through her waiting slipperiness. She stroked the 
heatedly pulsating shaft two or three times as Nino's hot lips, still tasting of the 
secret places of her own body, came down on hers. Then she directed it toward 
her hungrily awaiting vagina. The handsome young Italian lowered his body a bit 
more, and his massively heated shaft scraped her pubic hair.

Elaine pushed down on it and felt an indescribable jolt of pleasure shoot 
through her abdomen and inner thighs as the huge, searing head touched the still
sensitive, still-flooded lips of her wetly throbbing pussy. She used the head of the 
penis to draw little circles of ecstasy around and around her cuntal lips; she 
moved it up and down, feeling it push deliciously, and hotly, against her once 
again erect clitoris. She even pushed it down, downward until it came into contact
with her brown puckered anal ring. She didn't leave it there for more than a split 
second; there was something forbidden about that pleasure, and she could not let
her mind dwell on the possibilities. Now she moved it rapidly up and down her 
moistened fur-lined slit, feeling almost as if she were masturbating.

Nino was groaning with impatience. He felt her stroking his cock---sometimes 
rapidly, almost frantically; other times slowly, questioningly, as though she had 
never been asked to put a man's penis into her vagina before and didn't know 
what to do. Once, he was almost positive she hinted that he should push it in her 
rectum, but that impression had been so brief that he assumed he was wrong. 
Anyway, he thought, if the cock isn't in your asshole shortly, baby, you can bet 
that I'll have at least two fingers pushed in there trigging the hell out of you! She 
continued to stroke him and it was so pleasurable that the young man decided to 
put an end to it before she used up some of his strength. "Put it in, now," he 
demanded.

Elaine sighed, closed her eyes in rapture, and then centered the lust-bloated, 
throbbing shaft at the opening to her vagina. Although she wanted him to go deep
and hard, perversely she heard her own voice saying softly, "Do it to me slow ... 
and gentle ... make it last forever ..."

Because he wanted it to be perfect for her---this first time, at least---the boy 
curbed his own hot impatience and was gentle.

Elaine felt the head of his penis pressing in at her vaginal opening. Reluctantly, 
her fingers left the thick trunk of the wonderfully warm instrument. The pressure 
at her cuntal lips continued for a moment, and gradually increased in strength 
until, with a slight sucking noise, his massively heated cock-head moved inside 
her. "Ummmmmm," she crooned, "that's beautiful."

He felt the wonderful velvety warmness of her tight little pussy enclose the 
head of his hotly throbbing cock. It was much tighter than he had suspected, 
even though his tongue had just moments before scoured out the region. Her 
husband must not have used this very often, he thought, then quit thinking as he 
let sensations take command of his nerve centers and body control. The blonde 
had begun a twitching motion with her eager young pussy lips. She wasn't doing 
it on purpose; it just seemed to be natural instinct.

Elaine, widespread knees bent almost double, had both feet planted on the 
couch. As the first delicious sensation passed and there remained only the feel of 
his heatedly pulsating instrument stuck about an inch into her vagina, she began 
to long for more depth, for friction, for movement, for ... for ... She put it into 
words, "Fuck me ..." Using her feet and leg muscles, she raised her hips 
tentatively from the couch and discovered that the movement caused his long 
hard penis to slide in another inch or two. "Ohhhh, God," she chanted, "... so ... 
wonder ... fullll." She dropped her hips and his male hardness slid out until only 
the head remained buried between the clasping coral lips of her cunt. She raised 
and the cock moved in further, fell back and felt it partially withdraw.

Amused, the Italian youth grinned down at these first little movements which 
betrayed her intense hunger; he was laughing mainly at himself for his earlier 
stupid uncertainty over whether she had any energy left or not. Christ, he 
thought, she's got enough fuel left in that hot little pussy to put us both into orbit.
She pushed up her loins again, moaning this time in frustration, and he decided it 
was time to end the game. Slowly ... very slowly ... he pushed his impatiently 
swollen cock inward. It slipped easily through her inner cuntal muscles, down 
through the soft, torrid, dripping walls of her vaginal cavity, and pushed against 
the muscles of her uterine opening.

The young blonde's eyes rolled back in her head from the sheer rapture of the 
slow entry. She had never believed that a penis's first thrust could be so heavenly,
but then, of course, she had never been so aroused, so lubricated before, either. 
Down ... down ... down ... into her it went. She exalted with each new virginal 
territory invaded. Finally, after what seemed to be an endless eternity, Nino was 
in his full length. She could feel the bristliness of the short hair on his softly 
swaying testicles tickling her wildly puckering little anus. She could feel the 
cock-head buried deep inside of her, throbbing imperiously against her cervix ... 
could feel every fleshy, muscular little ridge of his penis pressing against her 
vaginal walls. And over it all, she could feel overwhelming contentment and 
happiness.

Now Nino began to withdraw almost reluctantly, then thrust inward slowly 
again. He was moving in and out of her with his eyes closed in deep appreciation. 
God, he had never before in his life felt a cunt that seemed so perfect for his own 
cock. She was milking him with her uterine and vaginal muscles. There was one 
set of muscles that worked on the head of his cock, squeezing it then releasing it, 
squeezing, releasing, until he thought he would go out of his mind. Another set of 
muscles, somewhere in the area just below the inner lips of her vagina, were 
moving sideways back and forth against the sensitive underpart of his trunk ... all 
of this going on at the same time she was rising to meet each of his thrusts.

Elaine realized that somehow or another, automatic reflexes had taken over 
her body ... and that was fine, because she was able to concentrate on feeling ... 
pure sensation, pure feeling! She felt muscles working, hips rotating against cock,
felt her fingers kneading Nino's powerful shoulder muscles ... felt all this, but did 
not will any of it to happen. Her lushly sensual body was alive and on fire with 
sure independent motion ... her brain could relax and let the incredibly wonderful 
sensations roll over it. Time simply dissolved into nothingness. She didn't know 
how long these maddeningly beautiful slow, gentle strokes had been plowing into 
her, but gradually she began to feel that it was not enough. She wanted more, 
and put her request into words, "Fuck me harder, Nino ... fuck harder."

That suited him just fine. It had been fabulous---this screwing in slow motion, 
but it had been terribly distracting as well. She was almost making him cum 
through use of her deeper vaginal muscles, and he really hadn't had a chance to 
get in a little energetic fucking yet. "Okay baby. You want it harder, you'll get it 
harder."

Abruptly, he reached down and locked his hands beneath her thighs and lifted 
them until her knees were pressed tightly against her naked young chest. Elaine's
eyes had widened at this unexpected occurrence; she had no way of knowing that
this one particular position would add at least two inches to his thrusts into the 
heart of her womb. She felt a momentary twinge of embarrassment at the fact 
that her vagina was in midair, helpless---defenseless---but that impression faded 
instantly when Nino grunted, "Here it comes, baby." He pulled his heated thick 
shaft out until only the head remained locked between the moistly clasping cuntal 
lips, then slammed down, down, down---burrowing far deeper up into her 
femaledom than anyone or anything had ever been before.

"Aaaaaagggggh," she screamed in sheer exhalation. His long rampaging prick 
slammed against the tip of her cervix and went on beyond this into the heated 
lonely void of her uterus. God, he was in so deep that it seemed his throbbing 
cudgel was lodged midway between navel and breasts. There was almost seven 
inches of hard hot-cock inside there, inside her, throbbing away like a second 
heart. Her tight little vagina felt stretched beyond repairs crammed well beyond 
its limited capacity. And yet, even as she was thinking all this, she could feel her 
deeper inner muscles welcoming this invader. One eager little muscle jumped and 
twitched against the glands, another rubbed continuously against the corona. And
she thrilled at his groans of appreciation and delight.

Now, clamping his hot, wet mouth over her's, he began a slow fucking motion 
between her thighs. Each new powerful thrust inward went to new and previously 
unexplored depths of her pussy. The head of his cock soon was master of it all, 
and with each jerking throb, it was a little cannon making tiny explosions which 
seared the softly sensitive flesh. His motions soon widened the narrow, pliant 
passage, and every stroke brought an abject groan of sheer lust from her throat.

Nino, hearing her mewls of subservience, began pounding into her with a fury 
he did not realize existed; his hipbones crashed into the back of her thighs with 
each stroke and his testicles hit the trembling walls of her upraised buttocks like a
battering ram. He wanted to hear her cry "Uncle," he wanted her to know that 
she had been fucked as she never had been before ... and, somewhere in the 
back of his mind, he knew he was accomplishing these things, and the real reason
for doing all this was not revenge, not egotism, but the desire to bring pleasure to
her so she would want him to fuck her again and again and again in the future.

In the closet, an excited Carlo increased the speed of his rhythmic stroking on 
his throbbing cock as he watched the masterful bludgeoning of the blonde's wetly 
glistening pussy. He felt envious that Nino---and not he---was fucking this 
beautiful rich cunt. His aching balls demanded release and he didn't know how 
much more of this he could take. Closing his eyes, Carlo fought the wave of 
paroxysm that flooded his senses. Suddenly, his eagerly pulsating cock gave an 
errant jerk and the searing load of jism that had been boiling for so long in his 
bulging balls erupted, spewing out and around his still clenched and stroking 
fingers. Again ... then again ... hot, white cum erupted and gushed forth, 
splashing against the wall and spilling onto the trousers of the expensive silk suit 
he had put on with such meticulous care that morning. Finally, one last little spurt
plopped from the penis's swollen hole and dribbled onto the suit. He sat 
motionless for several moments, savoring the remnants of his release. As his 
breathing returned to normal, he opened his eyes and saw the pools of sticky cum
on his suit. He swore under his breath---then looking to Elaine's wildly bucking 
body on the couch---he swore again. He would fix that little bitch ... he would fix 
her good! Taking a handkerchief from his coat pocket, he dabbed at his trousers 
and wiped his hands while his mind raced, thinking of possibilities. Moments later 
he smiled, pleased with his ingenuity. His gaze was still focused on the fucking 
couple, but as he watched the heaving forms grunting toward their climaxes, he 
really didn't see them---his brain was far too busy, scheming and planning.

On the couch, Elaine had long since stopped thinking about what was being 
done to her; she was too busy trying to find new avenues of enjoyment, new 
sensations by twisting her pelvis first one way then the other. She found by 
clenching her bowel muscles that she could bring her clitoris into continual contact
with that long hard rod driving in and out of her being. She had surrendered 
totally to this man lying between her open legs, and she unashamedly worshipped
that hot part of him that skewered so wetly, so powerfully into her.

Her body was beginning to twist and writhe now, and her sounds became one 
long sustained mewl as she groaned into his mouth, shoving her tongue deep into
his throat. She was animal, she knew she was an animal, and she loved being 
one. She was also servile, accepting anything done to her, relishing the taint of 
masochism in her soul, wanting more ... more ... more than she was getting. She 
was the portrait of pure wantonness: face wrung with passion, nostrils flaring like 
some wild mare being mounted by a stallion, neck tendons taut as cable, eyes hot
and vacant with lust.

As if sensing the blonde divorce's need for another new experience, Nino 
released her knees from her chest; she immediately wrapped her legs around his 
naked buttocks and used her calves to drive him deeper. The youth slipped his 
hands down over the naked flaring of her hips and slid them beneath the warm 
moons of her desperately thrashing buttocks. He cupped them harshly with each 
hand and began kneading them like bread dough as he thrust his thick heated 
shaft in with a greater frenzy.

Elaine subconsciously flexed and unflexed her straining vaginal muscles as his 
fingers dug deeply into the white, supple flesh of her ass. He jerked her harder up
to his cock, and she spread her thighs even further, inviting him to do what he 
willed, as she opened the moistly hot hole of her cunt in obscene welcome. He 
pounded into her with a fury, then---without warning---changed technique again 
and began making smooth, longer strokes that drew his cock nearly out of her 
tightly clasping vagina before plunging forward again into her uplifted loins. It was
then she felt his right hand stop its kneading motion on her ass and begin moving
into the crevice of her buttocks itself. She felt his outstretched middle finger 
tentatively search, then find, her unprotected and completely defenseless, 
puckered little hole.

He pressed inward and she felt the soft, rubbery flesh down there yield 
reluctantly. "Ohhhhhhh, God, that hurts," she said, twisting her buttocks in an 
effort to get away, the motion was hopeless, though, for his long hard cock had 
her skewered like a helpless pig on a spit. The groan bubbled from her lips in 
pained protest as his finger continued its unnatural invasion of her rectum. 
"Eeeeeeeaaahhh, don't ... Nino." He thrust even harder, and now she saw the 
cruel smirk on his handsome face as he took pleasure in hearing her sounds of 
subjugation.

"Ouuuuuugggh," she cried, as her tiny exposed anus received another thrust.

Nino, however, was not about to withdraw his finger. He could feel the warm 
rubbery resilience of her rectum, and he could also feel the quivering muscles in 
there which gave lie to her protests. She didn't know yet, but her body was really 
enjoying the almost brutal fucking he was subjecting her to. Soon she would be 
begging. He began working his finger around inside, stretching the puckered little 
anal ring ever wider and wider as his penis continued pounding mercilessly into 
her wide-stretched vagina.

Elaine felt a second finger poised at the opening to her back passage, then it, 
too, was inside---working in unison with the first finger ... in rhythm with his 
pistoning prick. The deep guttural protests coming from her chest began gradually
changing from whimpers of pain to low moans of new increased pleasure as her 
rectum became used to this strange invasion.

Within seconds she was shamelessly skewering her anus back onto his fingers 
as the Italian boy probed methodically around in the warm, rubbery depth. New 
sensations of delight rippled through the young blonde's abdomen and up her 
spine. She knew she was hopelessly impaled and helpless between the hard 
driving rod of flesh buried deep in her womb and those cruel, merciless ... 
wonderful ... fingers that wormed hotly in and out of her behind.

She was squealing like a stuck pig, twisting and writhing in wantonness under 
this double rape of her nakedly widespread loins' when suddenly she knew she 
was about to cum. She fought her own body against the orgasm; she didn't want 
to cum ... not yet. All this was too beautiful to end, to change. She tightened up 
all of her muscles, but that only intensified the hot vibrations that were beginning 
to reverberate like a gong in the heart of her belly.

Nino felt the change in her body, felt the sudden heating up of her vaginal 
passage, and knew she was rapidly approaching a climax. Beneath him, Elaine 
had begun to chant, "Oh, oh, ohhhhhh," with each breath. The knowledge that 
she was about to cum caused his own excitement to build to a fever pitch; he 
wanted to cum with her, at the same time. There would be more later, he knew 
that for a fact; he felt he could cum a hundred times with her, could fuck all night,
all day, all week---forever! And so, he yanked his fingers from her tight little anus 
and quickened the rhythm of his thrusts, grinding hard and deep, boring 
persistently into the hidden recesses of her pussy.

The nakedly writhing girl's senses were rapidly leaving her now. There was 
nothing left except that exquisite pressure building up in her loins; she was only 
vaguely aware of his lips leaving her mouth to clamp hotly on her right breast, of 
the feel of his testicles hammering at her ravaged anus, of his hands moving 
down across her abdomen to bring additional titillation to her clitoris. The 
pressure of the impending orgasm almost frightened her in its intensity. It was 
death. She would die from it. This was it!

"Ohhhhhhh, Nooo ... nooooo," she wailed, "fuck harder ... I'm cumming ... I'm 
cumming ... I'm cummmiiinnng ... againnnn ...!"

She writhed seeking one last ecstatic thrust before the dam inside of her burst.
His heatedly thick cock was a huge battering ram slamming into the portals of all 
her sensitivity, and the vibrations from the blows made her tingle from every 
follicle of her golden hair to the tip of her toes. This all had to be a dream ... it 
was all too beautiful to be true. Then, gradually ... the dam crumbled and the 
wave of ecstasy was upon her.

She screamed loudly, "Ooooohhhhhh, God! I'm ... I ... I'M ...CUM ... 
MMMMMMM ... INNNNNNNGGGGGGG." She jerked upward once with superhuman
strength, then fell back, convulsing on the velour couch. Her legs beat against the
softness of the cushions and her breath came in hoarse rasping gasps, as the 
violent, but exquisite, seizure rocked and wracked her body. She felt, 
momentarily, that she was one gigantic vagina, cumming, that every part of her 
was part of it ... and rejoicing. Even above her own pleasure, however, was the 
sudden knowledge that the beautiful penis that had carried her to this peak of 
glory was pumping hot, thick spurts of male sperm deep up into her quivering 
belly. His hot liquid message of love mingled with her juices, and they formed a 
pool of bliss that shimmered and shone in the no-longer-lonely void of her uterus.

Her heart was pounding as though it were about to leap from her breast as a 
great lassitude akin to death, itself, swept over her. Her legs went limp, her hands
fell to her side, and with the last vestiges of her rapidly fading consciousness she 
felt her vagina still quivering, still attempting to pay homage to the throbbing 
shaft of love still buried deep, deep inside. She was fainting ... perhaps even 
dying, she thought ... then simply let go ... let it all go away ... and drifted, drifted
into sweet oblivion. Her last thought before the darkness came was, "Now ... I 
know ..."

As for Nino? He stared unbelievingly down at the blonde's unconscious figure. 
Christ, what was there about her that had caused him to get so hot? Always 
before with other broads he had been able to control his own passion, but not 
with her! Even now, asleep, her vaginal muscles continued to twitch occasionally 
around his cock. He honestly couldn't remember when he had cum as much as he
did with her. He had flooded her womb with jism, and it had poured out of him 
and out of her as though someone had forgotten to turn off the tap. And his own 
reactions to all this bothered him; they were alarming thoughts-things he really 
didn't want to think about. He had wanted to fuck her ... had wound up making 
love to her. Staring at her now, he felt only a great and bottomless gratitude 
to-her and that wonderful young pussy. Slowly, and reluctantly, he pulled his 
flaccid cock from between her thighs and it came out with a slight plop, and with 
it came a veritable river of their warmly intermingled love juices.

"Elaine," he said softly. There was no answer. Slowly, he raised himself, walked 
to the book-shelf unit, and pulled out the concealed bed. Gently, he picked her 
naked form up in his arms and carried her across the room. He placed her, still 
asleep, on the double-bed ... then covered her naked young body to protect it 
from the cold.

Then, thoughts still churning about his own reactions to her, he lay down 
beside her, and covered himself with the same bedspread.

As he drifted off to sleep, he was still wondering about the strange effect she 
had had on him---wondering about the consequences of becoming emotionally 
involved with her ...


Chapter 9

Carlo leaned back in his chair, taking in the scene around him with his usual 
practiced gaze. Inside, there were only a handful of warmly dressed tourists; 
outside, all of the patio tables were empty---the impending spring shower had 
driven all but a few stout-hearted tourists indoors. There was no money to be 
made today, he thought, as he lifted the cup to his lips, sipping tentatively at its 
hot contents. Alas, it was just as well; there was much too much to be done 
anyway. First there was the matter of Nino, and then he had to call Marceau and 
complete the arrangements for tonight ... he let his thoughts drift, speculating on 
the satisfying possibilities it should bring ...

Abruptly, his pleasurable thoughts were interrupted by a group of noisy tourists
entering the cafe. "Damn," he swore under his breath, "where is that stupid, 
pussy-eater? He should have been here by now!" He glanced at his watch 
again---about the night before---and that sensuous blonde getting fucked silly ...;
and about the apartment---and how he had managed to sneak out after they had 
both fallen asleep. But, most of all, it had set him to thinking about tonight---and 
his plan ...

It was simple, really. He knew the one thing above all others that would appeal
to Nino. Not a girl. Not sex. No, it was neither of these. He would hit him where 
he lived---with greed, with the promise of money, wealth. And then he would take
over from Nino---with that beautiful, salacious bitch ... Elaine. He would teach her
things Nino had never even thought of ... He would make her beg for cock, and 
more cock, until she ...

The spring shower broke without warning as Nino was hurrying along the 
street toward the cafe. Cursing, he hastily buttoned the jacket of his new 
lightweight suit and sprinted the final few yards. But the sudden rain was heavy 
enough to soak him even in those few minutes. When he entered the cafe, the 
sight of Carlo comfortably settled in one of the cafe's chairs, his long legs resting 
on top of another chair, did nothing to improve Nino's temper. Neither did Carlo's 
amused grin.

"Shit!" Nino spat out. He wrenched off his jacket and hurled it down on a 
vacant chair. "What a day I've had! And then I get caught in a cloudburst ..." He 
threw himself into an adjacent chair and lit a cigarette.

"You're late," Carlo said. "You said you would be here by two o'clock. It's 
half-past now. And I told you that I'd be needing the apartment this evening."

The effect of Carlo's remark was explosive. It was what he had expected---and
what he had wanted. Nino's face flushed a dull red and he leapt to his feet, his 
voice rising rapidly as the words gushed out.

"You need the apartment, huh? I suppose you think you own the place? Well, 
my claim is as good as yours and you know that I've got to have it tonight. I've 
already told Elaine we'll be going there, and if you think you can get away with 
this, then you're mistaken; I'll see you in hell first ..."

Carlo lit himself another cigarette while Nino raved. When the torrent of words 
stopped for a second as Nino drew breath to continue his ranting, Carlo threw up 
his hands and said sharply: "Stop that and listen to me!"

His tone was commanding. In surprise, Nino stopped. "Now listen," Carlo went 
on when he was sure that he had the other's attention. "There's no need to get 
hysterical about this. I asked you to meet me so that we could discuss things 
sensibly."

"Who's getting hysterical?" Nino's voice was still pitched higher than it was 
normally, but he had slumped down into his chair again.

"It happens to be my turn to use the apartment," Carlo continued. "And for 
once, I'm going to take advantage of it. You've had the place plenty of times 
instead of me---in fact, you've been given almost a free run. But this time, I'm 
not fooling. I am using the apartment tonight."

A sulky pout turned down the corners of Nino's mouth. "I told you," he 
muttered, "that Elaine thinks we're going there tonight. How do I get out of that, 
tell me, eh?" He glared at Carlo, accusingly.

The answer he received was brisk and brought him out of his chair, 
sputteringly.

"What do you mean, Elaine and I are through?" Nino croaked, beating the table
with his clenched fist. "Who are you to tell me what I can and can't do!"

Carlo smiled, his thin upper lip curled in contempt. He said nothing. Finally, 
Nino stopped beating the table, ground his teeth in impotent rage and slumped 
into his chair. He sat rigid for a few moments, his hands still clenched into tight 
fists. When he sat upright again, the expression on his face had changed. He 
adjusted his shirt and his tie, at the same time giving his friend a crafty look.

"Carlo, you know you only use the apartment for telephoning ..." he began 
lamely, waiting.

Carlo's amber eyes narrowed. He leaned forward on his chair. "You're wasting 
your time with that bitch," he said. "You're wasting your time with a girl who had 
no money."

"Elaine does have money!"

Carlo leapt straight into the attack. He did not want to lose the opportunity of a
lifetime---to say nothing of a form of permanent insurance against possible hard 
times. He knew that, with a little behind-the-scenes manipulation, Nino could 
swing it. After which his good friend would be set for life. And, should Carlo ever 
need anything, he could always remind Nino where his gratitude and generosity 
should point ...

"You have to wake up, man!" Carlo said impatiently. "Elaine doesn't have 
money; she had an allowance. And it isn't all that much, either."

Warming to his subject, Carlo pressed harder. "Remember that girl I introduced
you to a couple of days ago---Sue Miller? Listen. She's an heiress. An heiress, you
understand? An heiress to over one million dollars. She thinks you're wonderful; 
she's ready to go for you in a big, big way. This is the chance of a lifetime for 
you---that chance you've hoped for, for so long. What more could you want?"

Nino made no reply. He drew deeply from his cigarette, his forehead creased in
a set frown.

"It's all set up for you, Nino," Carlo urged. "All you have to do is dump Elaine 
and you're set with Sue and a million dollars." When the youth sat silent, Carlo 
asked weanly: "Now what's the matter? What's wrong with Sue?"

"She's a lesbian," Nino muttered.

Carlo shot a shrewd glance at Nino. "What gave you that idea? Just because 
Maria took her in doesn't mean she's a dyke. Christ, the poor girl was lonely. 
Besides, Maria is a damned good art teacher and she's been helping Sue with her 
technique. Ask Benito for Christ's sake! He balled her at one of Marceau's parties. 
He thought she was a terrific fuck ..."

"She has thick legs," Nino interjected.

"Christ, man, you want a million bucks and the most beautiful legs in the world
too?"

"Well ..."

"Look, if it's Elaine that's bothering you, forget it. You pick her up tonight and 
tell her you're going to a party. When you get to Marceau's, I'll take her around 
and introduce her to everybody. In the meantime you grab Sue and head for one 
of the rooftop rooms. I'll keep Elaine busy." He winked at Nino. "After a little of 
Marceau's refreshments she'll never miss you. It'll be easy." He looked 
appraisingly at Nino. He judged the younger man had accepted the persuasion. 
Surpressing a cynical smile, Carlo asked in a tone of serious inquiry:

"Well, what do you say, Nino? Are you going to drop Elaine or not?"

There was silence. Nino lit himself another cigarette. Finally: "It's not going to 
be easy," he muttered.

"Nothing could be simpler!" Carlo could smell victory. "Sue's ready and 
willing---any idiot can see she's panting for you! She can't wait for you to lay her. 
And since she has all those lovely dollars, you'd be well advised to forget those 
thick legs. Just get down to business."

"It's all right for you to talk ..." Nino began.

"Listen," Carlo interrupted, "I've screwed a lot worse than Sue, and for a lot 
less incentive, too. And it hasn't killed me yet. It hasn't even bothered me."

"Nothing's really wrong with her ... she's really a pretty good looking broad ... 
it's ... just ..." Nino's voice trailed off. He stared beyond Carlo---beyond the door 
and the empty outdoor tables---beyond the street ...

What the hell's the matter with him, Carlo wondered. He's plainly weak about 
the blonde bitch in some way or another. Love? It hardly seemed likely. But this 
was no time to take chances on love or weakness. Sue was the richest fish Carlo 
had ever caught upon his diversified hook. She was rich and she had fallen in a 
felly-like romantic heap for Nino. That he knew. And one million dollars ... It 
would seem foolish to let sentimentality over Elaine spoil such a golden 
opportunity. Carlo abhorred sentimentality above all things. And ... he wanted 
Elaine for himself. For now, anyway.

Nino stared directly at him, and even before his friend spoke, Carlo knew that 
the million dollars had won.

"Okay," he finally said, his voice subdued. "I'll pick her up and bring her to 
Marceau's. The rest is up to you."

"Done, my friend." Standing up, Carlo went around the table and held out his 
hand. He'd known all along Nino would see sense in the end. He had been right. 
He had known all along that in the end---greed would win. They shook.

"See you tonight ... Lots to do ... phone calls ... and I have to be at Marceau's 
early to take care of the final arrangements." He turned quickly and headed for 
the door.

Nino stood for a long time, staring vacantly at the street ...


Chapter 10

Elaine had slept, her only movement the deep, steady rise and fall of her 
breasts, until, mid-afternoon, she had slowly opened her eyes and lay staring, 
wide awake, without moving. She stayed that way for a long time, looking up at 
the ceiling without moving or blinking, seemingly staring inward rather than 
outward.

After lying still for a long time, she slowly looked around, accepting the reality 
of being in her hotel room. It was raining and she saw through the window that 
the light outside had a blue smokey hue. Her mind cleared slowly, emptying itself 
of sleep, as little vague thoughts of the night before darted like tiny ants across 
the landscape of her consciousness. As her memories came into perspective, she 
was rocked with the horror of what had happened ... of what she had allowed to 
happen, without real resistance or much effort to preserve her natural dignity. 
She had allowed herself to be fucked silly---and by someone she hardly knew! 
She had actually begged to be fucked and have Nino, a virtual stranger, squirt his 
hot male sperm into her! It was disgusting! Yet. even now in retrospect, the 
memory stimulated her. There was no sense trying to fool herself, for she also 
knew that her life would never be whole again unless she could live through and 
enjoy her senses as she had with Nino. She felt more than ever aware of herself, 
of her body, her spirit, the pulse of her very life-blood. They had made love---yes,
fucked!---like two common animals carried along by the fine high heat of their 
nerves and body rhythms, joining in a way she had never known was possible. 
She tried to fit the events of last night into the whole scheme of her life up till 
then. It was impossible and she felt the wave of excitement that was building 
within her at just the thought of what they had done---an exciting light-lingered 
quivering between her thighs as she remembered her seemingly endless climaxes
under Nino's relentless tongue and driving loins. It was then that she decided 
she'd better get up before she allowed her body to become aroused again.

Languidly, the sensually naked blonde crossed the room to the closet and 
withdrew a long, flowing robe and slipped it on. She paused to brush her hair and 
saw that even the dim light made the thin fabric almost transparent, and she 
seemed even taller and more beautiful than usual. She decided that her sexual 
encounter of last night must have agreed with her for her skin was milky white, 
clear and sensuously soft-looking, and her cheeks were slightly rosy, even though
she had just risen from bed. Bed! Last night! Nino! Just the recollection of the 
darkly handsome Italian boy sent a little thrill of pleasure through her, making her
nipples harden and tingle. Nino! His muscled suntanned body. His animal lust. His 
... his penis, so hot, so hard, so wonderful! He had driven her almost mad with 
desire! But no, she had already decided that she was not going to think about him
... for a while anyway.

She walked into the bathroom and turned on the shower. Maybe it would help. 
She'd taken one this morning after he had brought her home, but that had been 
for a different reason. Her body had been covered with the dried remnants of 
their orgasms from last night and from the one she had reached shortly before he
had brought her to the hotel room. God! I've got to stop this, she thought and 
stepped into the shower. She let the spray cascade down her back and over her 
body, gradually decreasing the amount of warm water, until, ten minutes later, 
she stepped out, shivering. After drying and slipping back into her robe, she 
padded back into the bedroom, fixed herself a cup of instant coffee, and sat down
on the couch to wait for Nino's call ...


Chapter 11

It was nearly dark by the time Carlo reached Marceau's mansion atop Nob Hill. 
Nick, the huge Nubian valet, directed Carlo to a large walnut-paneled study which 
was Marceau's working room.

"Ah, Carlo, my boy. It's good to see you again," Marceau greeted him from 
behind an enormous desk in one corner of the room. "You have done your part, I 
trust?"

"Marceau, you know me better than that. Have I ever let you down?" Carlo 
answered, striding toward the warmth of a marble fireplace which dominated the 
wall adjacent to Marceau's desk. "They will all be here. And you? Have you 
prepared the little surprise I phoned you about?"

Marceau Verner III stroked his neatly trimmed beard thoughtfully and watched 
Carlo carefully through half-shut lids. "My boy, you never cease to amaze me. 
First you give me less than a full day to prepare, and then you phone me hours 
before the party with some special request. And to top it off, you expect to extract
from me a commission for your, eh, services." His hand slid forward several 
inches and tapped a plain white envelope lying in the middle of the huge desk.

Carlo eyed the man narrowly. "Ah, yes, Marceau, but it is not everyone who 
could bring you such beauties. Young virgins. And six of them."

Marceau sat motionless, his eyes closed, only the tip of his tongue flicking once
through compressed lips, betraying whether he was asleep---or dead. After a few 
moments his lids fluttered open and the corners of his mouth twisted upward in a 
wry smile. "Ah, Carlo, forgive me. Growing cynical is the leprosy of advancing 
age. Forgive me, please," he said, rising. "A brandy?"

"Yes," was all Carlo replied as he watched Marceau limp slowly to the 
well-stocked bookcase bar. His gout must be getting worse, Carlo mused. It was a
shame really. He wasn't that old. If it gets much worse I'm liable to lose a 
customer, he thought, walking quickly to meet him and take the offered drink.

"To our success," Marceau said, raising his glass in toast. They both sipped, 
then, Marceau lowering his glass continued: "I have taken the liberty of having 
Meg set a place for at the dinner table. It is not well for one to work on an empty 
stomach. No? And then we shall tour the ballroom and the top floor. You agree?"

"Umm," Carlo answered, lowering the glass from his lips. It really was good 
brandy. Expensive. Marceau did have good taste. Well in most things. "Yes. That 
would be great," Carlo answered. It wasn't often he was treated to fine brandy 
and an exquisite dinner. Only once before had Marceau invited him to dine.

When dinner was finished, both Carlo and Marceau sat quietly, contemplating. 
It had come to Carlo during dinner that Marceau was the only man he had met 
whom he admired. Now, as he sat, sipping an after dinner cordial, he wondered if 
it was really the man he admired or his ways; his aristocratic grace, his wealth, 
his passion for getting what he wanted. Somehow, Carlo knew, that he too would 
someday acquire all of these.

"My boy," Marceau began, interrupting Carlo's musings, "We had better be off. 
The guests will be arriving soon, and there are still some details that must be 
taken care of. Come, I will show you to the elevator. As you know, I have made 
many changes since you were here last. Meg is already upstairs and she will show
you around."

As they walked to the elevator, they passed the grand ballroom. The room 
blazed with light from three huge chandeliers. Three waiters arranged a buffet on 
tables set up at the far end of the room, while on a dais opposite the buffet, a 
five-man ensemble was tuning up. The thought crossed Carlo's mind that Marceau
was indeed a careful man. Should any uninvited or unwanted guests drop in, the 
respectable party with its legitimate guests should provide a perfect cover.

When they reached the elevator, Carlo noticed there was now a second one 
next to the one Carlo had always used before. Marceau took a key from his 
pocket and placed it in a lock where the call button usually was. He turned it and 
the doors opened. Removing the key, he handed it to Carlo; then stepped aside to
let him enter.

"All you have to do is press the Up button," he said. "There are no stops 
between the foyer and the top floor. You do the same in reverse when you come 
down."

Carlo nodded, then smiled. He pushed the button and the doors hissed closed.

Meg was waiting for Carlo as the elevator doors opened. She was in her late 
twenties, tall, slim, and brown-eyed, with darkly burnished auburn hair tied neatly
with a black ribbon behind her head; she was wearing a simple, expensive dress 
in basic black with one unobtrusive gold pin on her shoulder.

Carlo smiled at her and she returned the smile. "Let me show you around," she
said.

She turned and he noticed she had a good ass, fine legs, and slim ankles. He 
followed her around the circular corridor. Everything was white, highlighted only 
by paintings; paintings in gilded frames mounted on red velvet; paintings of nude 
men and women depicting various forms of copulation.

Meg caught his gaze. "All the paintings are from Mr. Verner's private 
collection." She stopped at the only door on the right and opened it, letting him 
walk in ahead of her. He stood there for a moment. It was almost unbelievable. 
The entire circular room was actually a small amphitheater; half of the room was 
a slightly sunken stage, the other half consisted of private booths facing it. An 
elaborate fountain, fashioned entirely of colored glass, played in the center of the 
otherwise bare stage. Opposite were five booths; two accommodating eight, and 
the center booth accommodating perhaps a dozen. They were designed so that 
from within, only the stage could be seen.

Carlo walked to one of the end booths and looked inside. On the back wall, 
behind the cushioned, horseshoe-shaped seat, was a built-in bar. It was well 
stocked and ready for action, including several bottles of champagne chilling in ice
buckets. On the veneered table was a silver tureen resting on an ornate warming 
rack. There were also cigarette boxes, a humidor, matches, and ashtrays. "As 
usual, Marceau has seen to everything," Carlo mused to himself. He turned and 
nodded to Meg. Just before they reached the door he noticed a recessed alcove 
on one side of the stage. He stopped, and the brunette, following his gaze, 
replied, "Dressing rooms." Carlo glanced at her briefly and then followed her back
into the corridor.

They continued around the circular corridor with its miracle of nude paintings, 
and by the time they had reached the elevator again, Carlo was curious. He had 
counted nine doors leading off the corridor---all on the left side. Six of them were 
of different colors, three white. The first had been painted blue, the second green.
Then there had been a white one, then violet red and another white. Meg noticing
his puzzle] expression, opened the white door. He stepped inside and found 
himself in a dimly lit, narrow hallway. He walked perhaps fifteen feet and came to 
a dead end.

Puzzled, he turned just as Meg flipped a hidden switch by the door and 
suddenly both sides of the blank walls were floor-to-ceiling glass, and he was 
looking into empty bedrooms on either side. Immediately he realized that 
Marceau had designed a voyeur's delight---a double delight! Meg beckoned to him
and he retraced his steps to the door. She flipped the hidden switch again and the
walls were once again bare. She closed the door silently and walked back a few 
feet to the yellow door. Once again she opened the door and let him enter first. 
He was in one of the bedrooms he had just seen from the hallway. Meg turned a 
dial and the triangular room gradually lit up. It looked like a stage setting; with 
only one exception, the entire room was done in contrasting yellow's; rug, ceiling,
and a giant round bed almost in the center of the room. The exception being the 
walls; they were mirrors, floor to ceiling.

Carlo looked at Meg. "No outside windows?"

Meg walked to the bed and pressed the first of a series of buttons on a small 
night table. There was a low humming sound as the ceiling rolled back and 
through the now glassed ceiling a few evening stars twinkled between scattered 
clouds. She pushed another button and a cool wave of fresh air invaded the room.

Before the Italian Guide could catch his breath, she pushed yet another button 
and the giant bed began to slowly rotate; then another and television sets 
appeared from each of the three mirrored walls. He watched breathlessly as each 
of the sets came on, each showing the same identical scene---a room just like the
one he was in. The only difference was that each room was a different 
color---blue, green, and violet.

Now she pushed another button and all three sets changed; blue changed to 
red, green to orange, and violet to yellow---and smack in the middle of the set 
showing the yellow room, stood Carlo, wearing an incredulous grin. Abruptly, the 
sound of rainfall reached his ears, then the sound of muted, sensual music. 
Suddenly, he realized the girl had touched more buttons. He walked to the bed 
just as she pushed the first seven buttons in reverse order and in moments the 
room was restored to its original state.

He was shaking his head as he followed Meg to the door and back to the 
elevator. Well, Marceau had certainly done his part, he thought, the rest would be 
up to him. He knew it wasn't going to be easy. It would be like a performer 
juggling a half-dozen eggs. If he dropped one they were all going to wind up 
scrambled.

Mentally he began to go over the plan in his mind, ticking off the details in 
sequence. He had staggered the times he had told everybody to be there. First 
arriving would be Benito and Hannah, followed shortly by Sue and Maria, the 
Count and his guest, the six young girls, and finally Nino and Elaine. He had asked
Benito first because he needed help---he had to get Sue separated from Maria. 
While he kept the heiress with him, Hannah and Benito would take care of Maria. 
When the Count and his friend arrived he would have Benito introduce them to 
Maria Then a taxicab driver friend would deliver the six girls, and he would have 
Benito take them up to the Count and Marceau. They were their worry after 
that---he had just promised to deliver them. Finally when Nino and Elaine arrived 
he would have Nino attend to the door. While he was introducing Elaine to 
everyone, Nino would slip away with Sue. From there on he was on his own. The 
elevator stopped with a slight bump. He stepped out just as Marceau entered the 
foyer from the direction of the ballroom.

"Ah! Carlo, everything is in order?" he asked.

"Great. As usual, you have exceeded yourself."

"Thank you," Marceau smiled. "And now, my boy, we should take up our 
stations. It will not be long before our guests begin to arrive. As arranged I will 
greet the guests who are destined for the ballroom and you will take care of the 
ones for upstairs. Ah, by the way," he said, grinning, "I have talked to Trembles 
about the little surprise you requested and the matter is arranged. Oh, yes, one 
more thing." He reached in his pocket and produced a plain white envelope. 
"Here, I think you will find this adequate," he said, smiling.


Chapter 12

Carlo breathed a sigh of relief as the elevator rushed them to the top floor. 
Everything so far had gone according to plan. Moments before, he had left Nino 
and Sue stationed in the foyer, awaiting guests who would arrive, and now he was
taking Elaine upstairs to introduce her to Marceau. She had swallowed the lie 
easily enough, expecting Nino to join them before long. He let his gaze travel over
her lush young body and chuckled to himself, knowing that before she became 
suspicious he would have her under his influence---thanks to Marceau's special 
mixture.

Elaine caught the movement in Carlo's eyes as they traveled over her figure, 
pausing slightly at her ample breasts, flat stomach, and flared hips. She had 
remembered him immediately when they had met downstairs. He had been the 
one with Nino in the cafe ... He was as good looking as Nino, she thought---the 
same finely boned features, the same muscular body. She was glad now that she 
had worn the green dress---knowing that it perfectly accentuated her ripe figure 
in just the right places.

Abruptly, the elevator bumped to a stop. As the doors hissed open Elaine heard
the muted strains of rock music and felt his gentle touch on her arm as he led her
toward it.

As they entered the room, Carlo noticed that the room had undergone a 
transformation since he had been up there. Now, the only illumination in the 
circular room came from psychedelic lighting above the sunken stage. He noticed 
that two of the young girls were dancing with the Count and his friend as he led 
Elaine toward Marceau's alcove table.

Elaine squinted as her eyes attempted to adjust to the room's darkness. She 
knew there were dancers on the stage, but in the flickering light it was difficult to 
distinguish their features.

Carlo stopped abruptly at a table from which copious giggling was issuing. 
"Elaine, I would like you to meet Marceau Verner, our gracious host. Marceau, this
is Elaine Craig."

"Charmed, my dear," Marceau answered, disentangling his arm from the giggle
and rising.

"Mr. Verner ..." Elaine replied, nodding her head slightly toward him and 
smiling.

"Please ... call me Marceau ..." He hesitated, wondering. Could it be? But, no, 
it was too much of a coincidence ... He looked beyond her to the figures on the 
stage. Still ...? "If there is anything you wish," he finally said, breaking the short 
silence, "please feel free to ask. The show should be starting very soon now ... I 
hope you will enjoy it."

"Thank you, very much," Elaine said, a puzzled look crossing her lovely face. 
She thought it strange that neither of the men had bothered to introduce her to 
the woman in the booth. Her eyes had become more accustomed to the dim light 
and she bent forward. straining to see into the back of the booth ... God!

She was only a girl! Not more than 15 or 16. The girl with flaming red hair 
stared back, then grinned, and finally giggle Elaine was about to speak, but just 
then the lights dimmed even more and the music stopped.

"Come," Carlo said, pressing Elaine's hand. "The show is about to start. We'd 
better get to our table."

"See you later, Marceau," he called over his shoulder as they picked their way 
across the darkened room.

"A drink?" Carlo asked after they were seated.

"Thank you," Elaine answered. "I could use something!"

"How about some of Marceau's famous hot buttered rum?" he said, indicating 
the tureen resting in its warmer on the table.

"Yes, that would be fine," Elaine replied. Although the rain had stopped, it had 
been cool outside and she still felt a little chilled. Maybe the hot rum would warm 
her.

Carlo filled two glass cups from the tureen, handed her one, then raising the 
other, said, "To your health."

Elaine nodded in response, then sipped the warm liquid. What an unusual 
taste, she thought. But it's good. Very good! She sipped again.

They sat silently for several minutes, drinking, lost in their own thoughts. They 
lit cigarettes from the box on the table, then, Carlo noticing that her cup was 
almost empty, refilled it. His own cup was nearly untouched. He grinned. Not only 
was she drinking the hot rum---literally laced with hashish tea and Brazilian Bola 
an exotic aphrodisiac---but he had just fit a cigarette for her filled with just 
enough powdered hashish to keep her from coughing, yet strong enough so that 
just one had the potency of a whole joint of first-class marijuana.

Suddenly, from the direction of the stage, the pulsating beat of a single conga 
drum began. Gradually, a single orange spot of light began to illuminate one side 
of the stage. Elaine was mesmerized as the majestic figure of Marceau's negro 
valet, Nick, gradually appeared in the soft illumination. He was seated, 
cross-legged, on the far side of the sunken stage, clasping the African conga 
drum he played between his bare legs, wearing only a lion-skin loin cloth, his 
naked arm and chest muscles glistening in the warm orange illumination. Elaine 
scarcely dared to breathe as she watched the light begin to pulse in rhythm to the
enormous negro's beat, flickering eerily off of his naked ebony skin with each 
throb.

The vibrant scene seemed to be having almost an hypnotic effect on her. She 
was beginning to feel light, airy, and her temples pulsed with the thumping beat 
coming from the drum.

Carlo watched her closely. God, he thought, she's really taking off, floating into
another world. She's really feeling the hashish. And before long she'll be in the 
grip of the bola. He knew its effects, he had seen them before. And, by God, he 
was going to see them again.

As Elaine continued to watch the negro, the hashish began to take complete 
control of her nervous system ... She began to experience a humming, vibrant 
feeling, rising slowly from her toes, crawling steadily toward her skull. Never in 
her life had she felt so completely relaxed ... secure ... unafraid. It was good to 
be with a friend, a handsome young man, someone who would confidently guide 
her through the evening ... To express her appreciation of him, she leaned closer 
and was pleased when he smiled, squeezing her shoulder lightly and nodding 
toward the stage. She had been so distracted by Carlo's presence and the effects 
of the drink and the hashish, that she had neglected to notice the appearance of a
young girl on the stage.

Sharon, the slender blonde that Carlo had delivered to Marceau, was sitting on 
the end of a bid in the center of the stage, her hands folded, slating blankly off 
toward the audience. Her lithe figure was illuminated by a steady beam of light in 
much the same manner as was the negro drummer. Suddenly the tempo of the 
drum increased, and everyone---including Elaine---watched intently as the 
slender blonde bent dawn and grasped the hem of the filmy yellow gown she was 
wearing. Rising, she slowly slipped the gown upwards, exposing her slim white 
legs and then the slender, boyish thighs.

Elaine could hear eager sounds of delight from the males in the audience as 
the gown staked its way over the girl's head and her graceful but not 
full-developed torso emerged. Her little budding breasts burst into view and, in 
the stage light, her small, quivering nipples appeared like tiny pencil erasers. 
Raising her alms up over her head, she pulled her waist-length, sandy-colored 
hair up, then released it to cascade like shimmering gold over her sensuous 
slender shoulders. Then, stretching languidly, she turned to face the negro 
drummer and gave him a wanton smile. She was completely naked now, her 
slender alluring nudity presented for everyone to appreciate.

Elaine shifted anxiously next to Carlo. A faint glimmering of understanding 
came over her, and she could not help but watch with fascination and wonder.

Relaxing, Elaine leaned back against the cushion and found Carlo's arm waiting
there. She was quite happy and Carlo's arm was reassuringly solid and muscular 
... so surely it could not hurt anything to sit back and enjoy herself.

Her attention was drawn back to the stage when the drum beat suddenly 
changed tempo. It was other-worldly, yet had a soul-stirring rhythm that touched 
the very core of her being. She saw that the slender fourteen year-old girl was 
holding a small bottle full of an amber liquid. She unscrewed the bottle cap and 
poured a small amount of the substance on her fingertips. For some reason the 
act provoked a murmur from some of the other booths, but it was not the kind of 
murmur that Elaine recognized. Instead, it sounded more like a chorused groan of
animal ecstasy, of fevered expectancy. The pretty teenager reached out her 
smeared fingertips and massaged her breasts in tiny teasing circles, tweaking the 
soft nipples to sudden throbbing hardness. Then-spreading her legs she exposed 
the thin pink slit of her vagina nestling secretly in the soft light-brown pubic hair 
up between her thighs. Pouring out more of the glistening liquid on the ends of 
her fingers, she lewdly parted the hair-lined lips surrounding the tight vaginal 
passage, applying the substance, dabbing it on the tiny exposed clitoris and along
the inner ridges of the fragile pink orifice. Setting the bottle aside, she walked to 
the bed and stretched out on her back. Slowly she began caressing her own ripely
budding body, working herself toward a burning passion as her lithe little buttocks
twisted against the black satin covered bed as though she were trying to bury 
herself in it. Her eyes were glazed with desire, and the whiteness of her naked 
flesh began to turn a rosy blushing color.

Elaine's mind was pirouetting madly, trying to sort out her own feelings from 
what the girl's must be. She flushed slightly with guilt as she felt a fleeting desire 
to be where the cute, naked teen-ager was, experiencing the same thing. 
Squirming her buttocks nervously, the young divorce felt the edge of the booth 
cushion come into tingling contact with the soft swelling of her cuntal lips, a 
contact that was intensified by the nylon panties and smooth dress she was 
wearing. She tried to sit straight and stop her squirming, but she was powerless 
to stop herself, though, and ground down with greater force against the cushion 
rim as her breath quickened. The musky odor of Carlo's male body filled her 
nostrils, stimulating her even more. it was a rich, earthy odor that made her want
to snuggle closer and drown in the excitement of the forbidden naughtiness 
rippling through her. Without thinking, she moved nearer, and made no protest 
when his hand came to rest tenderly but firmly on her right breast. Perhaps this 
very excitement was what she had been afraid of all along, she thought, casting a
furtive sidelong glance at Nino's friend.

Catching her eye, Carlo leaned close and whispered, "The liquid is called Bola 
and comes from the jungles of Brazil. Marceau visited there and learned its use as
a stimulant from the natives. As proof of the aphrodisiac's power the 14 year-old 
naked girl on the bed writhed more lasciviously now, as though she were being 
attacked by some unseen beast. The heat and excitement in the room was 
beginning to arouse Elaine against her will. She knew now that she was not the 
same girl she had been when she had entered the room. She pressed down 
against the cushion again, until the doubled hem of her short dress was bunched 
up and pressing into the crevice of her buttocks. Meanwhile, Carlo had tightened 
his hold on her breast, clenching and unclenching its firm full roundness with a 
rhythm that matched the erotic writhing of the girl on the stage. The young 
divorce could feel the wetness slowly, but inexorably, spreading between her 
thighs, and she moved forward a few inches to gain more solid contact with the 
cushion. This was unheard of, a kind of sin, but she found it impossible to still the 
driving urge in her limbs.

She looked at the stage again after what seemed a long time but was in reality
only a moment or two. Without realizing it the pungent hashish had distorted her 
sense of time, and she was surprised when she saw the golden-haired girl begin 
to run both of her own hands over her body, her fingertips dancing exploratively 
over the flat, ivory belly and coming to rest, together, at the "vee" of her soft, 
hair-covered young loins. The drug-crazed little girl groaned at the thrilling 
contact of her hands with the moist slit between her thighs and pulled her legs up
like two gloriously carved creamy columns above the black satin spread, and 
then, with a deep sigh let them fall gaping wide on either side of the bed. Her 
fingers crawled on her nipples and pinched them roughly, making the sensitive 
flesh shiver and contract in their erectness. It was clearly evident that the 
aphrodisiac was having the desired effect on the child.

Elaine wriggled uncomfortably in her seat when she saw the girl slowly tease 
her middle finger into the glistening pink slit of her vagina and begin stroking the 
swollen bud-like clitoris with her thumb. Carlo's hand clutched Elaine's breast 
more firmly, and she heard and felt his breathing becoming heavier. Just then, 
she saw the girl begin to finger-fuck her finger in and out smoothly between the 
Bola-agitated cuntal walls, joining the middle finger with two more and pushing all
three into the hungry pink folds. They disappeared and emerged again and again 
with a moist sucking noise, causing the girl to sigh and moan with pleasure.

Elaine's body stiffened momentarily as she watched this lewd indignity, and 
only Carlo's firm grasp on her trembling, aroused breast kept her from leaning 
forward to hang on the edge of her seat with real concern for the blonde 
teen-ager.

But the naked little girl on the bed was now hopelessly possessed and worked 
her mouth eagerly in rhythm with the drum. Her eyes and teeth were clenched 
tightly shut as she shamelessly writhed her open vagina beneath her driving 
fingers in an ever increasing frenzy of passion. It was almost more than Elaine 
could stand witnessing this obscene act right before her very eyes, someone 
should make the teen-ager stop---do something to help her. Yet the aroused 
divorce shuddered and chilled from a sexual acceleration that watching 
something forbidden gives, and she remained silent.

Elaine hardly noticed or cared when Carlo skillfully unbuttoned the top of her 
dress and slipped his sweating palm inside her brassiere to cup and hold her 
warm naked breast.

Now, starting to lose all control herself, Elaine's heart was pounding savagely 
in her chest; she was certain that her companion must feel it thrashing under his 
strong hand. He rubbed his fingers lightly over the nipples, stopping to pinch 
them to pebble-hardness and causing a ripple of delicious sensation to flow 
through her each time he did. Her breath was steadily quickening, coming in tight
gasps as the burning sensation in the hollow pit of her trim young belly grew in 
maddening intensity. She was beginning to perspire in her arousal, and she could 
feel a trickle of sweat running from her navel down her stomach into the sparsely 
haired pubic triangle at the base of her belly. Its slow, teasing trail caused her to 
squirm and push forward her sex-flushed breasts more firmly into Carlo's hand. 
Another trickle ran down the valley back between her buttocks, falling onto the 
tight pink flesh of her anus. Her nerves were thoroughly frayed and her 
drug-heavy mind throbbed like a bellows behind her eyes. She knew she was in 
trouble, her own doing, and should not allow Carlo to squeeze and knead her 
breasts this way. After all, he was an utter stranger. But still, she wanted to avoid 
being called a square, an innocent child ... and besides, a little petting could not 
hurt anything so long as it came to a halt before real trouble started.

She was thinking of the seeping wetness between her thighs when her eyes 
strayed back to the stage and the obscenely swaying body of the 14 year-old girl. 
Small trails of sweat were building and running down the slender blonde's body, 
glistening in the spotlights and reminding Elaine of her own heated body. A sense 
of identification with the girl was stronger than ever, sending stronger and 
stronger ripples of sexual need through her own trembling limbs. She could feel 
Carlo becoming increasingly excited- and was certain that he could feel the 
frequent grinding of her vagina down against the cushion. Embarrassed, she 
made an effort to appear that she was merely changing position, but it was 
becoming nearly impossible to conceal the fact that she was just as stirred up as 
he was by their contact and the obscene spectacle before them.

Carlo was fondling her large breasts more enthusiastically now, pinching her 
bud-like nipples harder until they throbbed higher in guilty pleasure. A wash of 
shame came over her when she realized that she was truly jealous of the girl on 
stage; she yearned to have something or someone in her own moist passage, yet 
she knew that this was only a temporary, unrealistic desire spurred by the 
unusual events taking place. Her good sense and the strict upbringing she had 
had would never allow her to take on a strange man, in a strange place, in these 
strange circumstances at a weird party in a strange city. It was absolutely 
unthinkable. And yet? God, she was not certain! The delicious intoxication she 
felt, the scene on stage, Carlo's caresses, plus the basic drives of her own healthy
body ... all were taking their toll on her ability to ward off whatever might 
confront her.

She was losing her mind!

Suddenly there was an anguished cry from the girl on the bed. She was 
twisting her head from side to side wildly' her long blonde hair sweeping the black
satin spread. She was experiencing the first blinding throes of searing orgasm and
fucked back greedily against her fingers like a she-demon gone berserk.

Elaine stared in fascination as the young girl began to thrash and buck wildly 
from side to side, up and down, signifying the cataclysmic upheaval exploding 
deep in her young belly. As her hand flopped uselessly onto the bed, her firm little
buttocks glistened in the warm light, displaying the soaked curls of her pubic hair 
and the fragile pink flesh of her pussy as she pitched backward on the bed and lay
struggling for breath. One final thump boomed from the drum and then it, too, 
became still. In a last act of depravity, the black drummer walked to the bed and 
swiped his long fingers over the little blonde's oozing cuntal flanges, gathering 
some of the love juice on the ends of his dark fingers. Leaning forward, he seized 
the panting girl by her hair and drew back her head to wipe the sticky liquid on 
her open, trembling lips.

A murmur rose from the booths as the stage lighting gradually receded ... the 
rock music started again, and Elaine watched as several couples walked by their 
booth headed toward the corridor.

"Come with me," Carlo said softly, rising as he took her hand to leave. "I'd like 
to show you something."

"I could use some fresh air," she said, allowing herself to be led out of the 
room into the cool, refreshing air of the corridor.


Chapter 13

As shocked and excited as Elaine had been at the lewd display of wanton lust 
in the amphitheater, now the cool air of the corridor heightened her senses and 
made her want to cling to Carlo. He was really a true friend, she thought to 
herself, and certainly she could not blame him for having become aroused and 
touching her during the strange lewd performance. After all, she had 
herself---more than she cared to remember. In fact, to be perfectly honest, the 
fires of passion were still smoldering inside her, and she could feel the warm 
moisture down between her thighs where it flowed from her wetly excited pussy. 
Just walking and the resultant rubbing together of her vaginal lips was 
heightening the embers of desire and sending sharp tingling waves of building 
pleasure spreading out in all directions from her clitoris. Even the light shiftings of
her dress across her breast as she walked were sparking her already painfully 
hard nipples to greater heights of sensation.

Carlo was leading her along the corridor and when he came to the first 
painting, he stopped. Elaine was flabbergasted as she stepped forward to see the 
art exhibit. Nearly the entire wall was covered with the lewdest sexual acts 
imaginable! It was a huge orgy scene, done so realistically that the tangled mass 
of bodies and limbs seemed to be alive. There must have been nearly a hundred 
figures in it, some in pairs, others in groups of three or four, and even five. Elaine 
was so shocked by the orgy scene that she failed to protest when Carlo led her 
across the corridor and into a room. She was even more surprised when she 
stepped through the door and saw the entirely mirrored room with its blue rug 
and huge, round, blue bed.

Suddenly, Elaine gripped Carlo's shoulder for support as tide after tide of 
strong, mind-reeling desire rose in her, dizzying and confusing her. Surely it could 
not still be the effects of having watched the wanton performance, she thought, 
casting about frantically for an explanation of the erotic feelings inflaming her 
entire body. Even at this moment she could not remember the young girl's face or
much of anything else. Only the thought of finding some sort of relief for the 
inferno inside her ... one that had come out of nowhere ... occupied her mind.

"How do you feel now?" Carlo asked tentatively.

"I feel ... sort of funny ... strange," she muttered.

"Yes, I know," he said and smiled mysteriously, staring into the gorgeous 
blonde's glassy eyes with leering impertinence. She did not understand the 
meaning implied by the expression on his face and could only concentrate on the 
fire now raging out of control in her loins, making her breasts tingle, her flat white
stomach contract, her breath rise and fall heavily.

"Are you ready?" he asked harshly, still staring at her, the lights in his eyes 
almost blinding her with their piercing brightness.

"Ready for what?"

"Listen, Elaine, don't fool yourself. I know what you're feeling now," he 
growled, suddenly changing from the gentle, understanding man she had known 
earlier into a snarling, gruff stranger Title the manner of a wounded bear. She 
suddenly began to suspect his meaning and a feeling of complete helplessness 
came over her ... There must have been something in the rum drink ... That was 
it! ... That was what had made her feel so ... so strange ... It wasn't just the 
intoxication from the rum ... It was something else ... Oh ... my God ... it must 
have been that ... that Bola stuff the young girl had used on the stage ... Oh ... 
no ... no!!! She clenched her thighs together automatically as the memory of the 
young girl's wanton writhing flickered momentarily through her mind. But the 
pressure placed on her clitoris by the tightly-squeezed lips of her pussy only 
stimulated her more and she could not resist the urge to squirm restlessly.

"That's right ... You've got it, baby," the Italian guide said, confirming what she
realized just then. The flash of understanding that crossed her face was easy to 
interpret.

"Oh Carlo, Carlo, how could you!" she wailed, half-heartedly attempting to 
invest her tone with a note of accusation. But her own voice betrayed her and 
seemed to come from far away, a shaky weak sound that was not at all what she 
had intended. Her brain was a swamp of vagueness and lassitude, and only the 
sweet burning palpitations in her breasts and loins were important now. She knew
she had been tricked and cruelly taken advantage of, but still nothing mattered at 
that moment but the sexual stirrings that were inexorably taking over her mind 
and body.

She could not even bring herself to object when Carlo walked over to her and, 
with insulting calmness, began to undo the buttons on her dress. What was 
worse, she really wanted him to---she wanted to be naked and have her 
lust-crazed body kissed and caressed until the unwanted fires were mercifully 
quelled.

She gazed at the handsome young man, the torment between her shame and 
the drug-induced desire making her eyes fill with tears of embarrassing 
frustration. All her life she had been in control---at movies and even in the back 
seats of cars when boys had tried to take advantage of her, use her 
loveliness---but now she was defenseless against this near stranger and herself.

The bodice of the dress hung inside out at her waist now, and he was working 
frantically at the zipper at the back of her dress. When the stubborn mechanism 
finally came free, he slowly pulled the zipper tab down her back and reached up 
with both hands to hook his fingers inside the waist-band of the garment. He drew
down the dress with infuriating boldness, pulling it to her knees to reveal the lush 
white Mesh of her firm thighs and hips. Quickly then, he removed her brassiere 
and panties---the last remnants covering her nakedness.

He was on his knees now kneeling on the floor before her, and she could do 
nothing but stand there, completely naked, as he stared eagerly at her 
magnificently formed, youthful breasts and then down at the soft warm flesh of 
her wetly quivering pussy.

She flinched and uttered a shrill cry when with a surprisingly gentle touch, he 
moved forward and placed his thumbs on the lips of her heated vagina, slowly 
spreading them open and allowing the cool air to play on the moistly sensitive 
flesh that was revealed. He peered greedily at the delicious, glistening coral tissue
he had laid open to him. Two tiny sparkling droplets of moisture rested on the 
fragile, pink petals that peeked out at him, while the erect pea-shaped little 
clitoris pulsed before his eyes.

The passion-producing substance he had given her was driving her nearly 
insane and, despite her sense of humiliation and the fact that she knew that this 
was wrong, she relished his shameless caresses and hoped that the moment 
would never end.

Elaine felt the hot wisps of his breath graze her raw, secret flesh and she 
murmured unintelligibly as suddenly she felt his long red tongue flick out and lick 
wetly up through her parted cunt, his moisture mingling with her own ... My God, 
she thought to herself, this was purest heaven!

Then Carlo fastened his lips around her throbbing clitoris, licking and sucking, 
and she began to involuntarily wiggle and squirm her hips in half circles, all the 
while pushing her groin against his face. The entire length of her vaginal aperture 
was flowering open to him and there was a perfumed musk of female sexual 
juices on his tongue. She gave off the tangy exciting aroma of young 
womanhood, and the satin skin of her thighs clasping his face in a gentle embrace
was like sweet-smelling velour. He felt her hands on his head, pulling his mouth 
into the parted pubic hair with the strength of a tigress. When he responded and 
moved forward on his knees a little more, pushing his weight against her, she lost 
her balance and staggered backward a few steps until the edge of the bed caught 
her behind her knees and she fell nakedly flat on the blue satin spread with a 
groan of passion and surprise.

He rose, then, and quickly removed his clothing and hastily tossed the 
wadded-up garments in a heap on the floor. Hearing the rustling sound, Elaine 
opened her eyes and saw dimly that he was thoroughly naked, his muscular male 
body presented like a god's for her appraisal. With a shudder of disbelief, she let 
her gaze fall to his train loins and saw his thick, pulsing penis jutting out like a 
tree trunk from between his legs. Gasping, she stared in open hunger at the 
heavily-corded shaft rising with the ominous aspect of a totem-pole above the 
hairy balls below. The broad hard head flexed and spread even more as she 
watched. She cringed inwardly, thinking that no woman could possibly take 
something that monstrous inside her body ... She would be split asunder, torn, 
forever ruined and of no use to any other man, husband or lover.

"Well now, Elaine, what do you think of that? Have you ever seen a prick this 
big before?" Carlo asked crudely, his lips curled back in a teasing smile as he took
the massive cudgel in both hands and waved it obscenely at her.

Elaine lay frozen under the appalling crudity of his obscene words. And yet 
their very lewdness excited her more and more, so that she was at a loss to 
understand her own reactions to what was occurring. She could feel the 
increasing moisture soaking her cock-hungry vagina and crossed her legs to press
them closely together, trying to ease the burning sensation that was churning so 
madly in the pit of her stomach. Carlo's fervent licking and sucking of her vagina 
had turned her entire body into a tense bundle of raw nerve ends that she was 
powerless to control. She continued to stare at his massively pulsating penis as it 
grew even larger, soaking up more blood and standing out farther, a bone-stiff 
pole that was an inflamed pink right up to the collar of skin under the head. The 
head itself was purplish, larger in diameter than the long base, like a knuckle-less
fist at the end of an upraised arm. There was still a vicious smile on his face as he
stood there holding his semen-oozing tool, pointing it at her insultingly and 
enjoying the obvious effect it was having on her.

"Goddamnit, answer me?" he barked. "How do you like my prick? Now wouldn't
you like me to slide it up between your legs? Now!"

"I-I don't know ... It ... it's so big," Elaine stammered, hating herself for not 
obeying her instinct to rise and flee from the room, to run away from him and the
certainty of what was soon to happen. But the potent aphrodisiac he had given 
her, plus everything else that had happened so far that evening to stimulate her 
rendered her incapable of moving or wanting anything at all but what was surely 
in store for her if she remained there on the bed. Then, as though he had heard 
her thoughts, he stepped proudly up to the bed and sat down beside her, reaching
over with both hands to seize her breasts and squeeze them together like huge 
straining grapefruits. She could feel small pin pricks of delicious feeling racing 
through the tips of them as he rolled the light brown hardening nipples between 
his thumbs and forefingers. The heat of his eager breath rushed at her as he 
turned his head toward her and locked his mouth firmly on hers. She tried to turn 
away, reflexively, not wanting to succumb, to make a last futile stand against the 
impending surrender of her honor, but the pressure of his strong male grip was 
altogether too much for her in her present state of mind. Nothing mattered but 
her glorious, mind-leveling feelings and she lad forgotten about being a proper 
young lady, about everything ... except the sheer joy of having this splendid male 
body, lusting for her tingling female flesh.

His hands then dropped from her ripe white breasts to fondle her hips and 
trace the lovely full convexities of her flanks and the sides of her slightly flattened
bare buttocks. She felt the gouging hardness of his huge, heatedly throbbing 
penis against her thigh as he leaned over, his hands busy caressing her lower 
torso. Now his hot mouth clamped wetly over one breast, sucking and pulling 
hungrily at it, frequently pausing to nip and nibble with his teeth at the erect 
nipples.

"Now do you know? Now do you want about seven inches of cock in you?" he 
asked demandingly, his voice hoarse and rasping.

"Oh ... I ... I'm afraid" the drug-dazed young divorce responded innocently, 
unaware that her very helplessness served only to excite him more. Surely he 
knew that she was raging inside, that her naked and willing body was exploding 
with desire from his touch and the large portion of the aphrodisiac she had 
trustingly swallowed. And yet for some reason she clung to the ignorant belief 
that he was guiltless' crude but guiltless, and had no motive other than to satisfy 
the same insistent craving for satisfaction and release that she felt. Then, her 
thoughts momentarily detouring, she pictured her ax-husband and the disgusting 
image of his sickness, how he had stifled her and prevented her from freedom 
and any semblance of simple fun in their relatively short marriage. These 
thoughts renewed Elaine's anger, an anger that ironically fueled her present 
passion to the point of daring and a state of mind just short of being completely 
abandoned. Yes, by God, she had always wanted to break free and now she had 
the chance, even if she was young and nave, frightened as much by her own 
accepting attitude as she was by the prospect of allowing Carlo to insert his 
awesomely large penis in her tight, cringing cunt.

"Yes ... I want you, Carlo," she murmured, training her smoky, desire-filled 
eyes for a moment on his face as he feasted on her breast, now rosy and wetly 
gleaming from the mauling of his mouth. The candor of her confession did not 
seem to surprise him and he wasted no time as he lifted himself from her, 
grasping her shoulders to move her into a better position, length-wise, on the 
bed. Using her globular white breasts for leverage, he pulled himself on top of her,
his heavier weight along the length of her body squashing her down into the satin
covered bed. He came to rest directly between her tender pulsating thighs, 
forcing them wider with his own thighs as he pulled her tightly against him and 
dropped one hand down between them to take his long hard throbbing cock in his
fingers and guide it forward, using the thick rubbery glans to part the wet, fleshy 
lips of her luscious pussy. She flung her head to one side on the bed, closing her 
eyes and groaning as she felt its hot startling contact against the waiting ragged 
edges of her glistening cunt. She held her breath for what seemed an eternity, 
lying there in utter wantonness beneath him, not even daring to breathe or move.

"Ooooh, God!" she finally moaned, no longer in her womb. She was 
whimpering and pleading desperately now as he began to fuck ruthlessly into her, 
gritting his teeth with lust and luxuriating in his awareness that she was 
compulsively following him, beginning to hump in spasmodic jerks beneath him. 
She groaned as if in anguish, shocking herself as she threw up her arms to wrap 
them tightly around his neck, pulling his solid well-defined chest into the soft 
whiteness of her beautiful white breasts. He plunged his long hard cock in and 
out, filling and emptying her, sinking his heatedly throbbing shaft back and forth 
between her tightly clasping cuntal lips and on up to her cervix until there was not
a single tiny ridge of flesh on it that she could not feel pressing into the walls of 
her sensitive pussy flesh. The young blonde's mouth moved against her will, 
opening; and closing in response to each body-jolting stroke of his huge thick 
hardness, her shining golden hair flowing out on the bed and fanning like light 
velvet, catching subtle highlights of gold and rust as her head rose and fell with 
her movements. There was nothing that could stop her insane race for fulfillment,
and Carlo fucked like a savage to end it for both of them.

"Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me ... hard, hard!" she begged without thought of 
shame, her whole being centered on the delicious pleasure that had replaced the 
first pain of his brutal impalement of her. He slithered his strong, sinewy hands 
under the wildly pumping cheeks of her writhing ass and cupped them firmly, 
raising them up off the bed to gain better access to her open and pleading loins. 
Then, pressing further forward, he forced her lovely long satiny legs up off the 
bed in an arc far back over her head, pressing her knees harshly into the bed on 
both sides of her shoulders.

Her tortured body was bent back double, jack-knifed, the stress on her 
strained muscles almost causing her to beg for mercy. The glistening, wet 
flattened plane of her groin was presented up to him as he increased the rapidity 
of his thrusts, the penetrations making her moistly quivering cunt secrete and 
expand wildly before his primitive assault, the very attack that thrilled her beyond
thought of caution or conscience. He fucked into her from the tips of his toes and 
crammed the last fraction of the last inch of his cock into her with thundering lust,
bringing fresh ecstatic moans from her lips that responded through the room like 
cries of a wounded beast. Her nostrils flared further open and her eyes, now 
glassy and unseeing, were rolled back and fixed hypnotically on the stars 
twinkling through the glass ceiling.

Carlo placed his hands on either side of her and lifted himself so that he could 
watch the blonde girl's face. It was something he did not want to miss, the 
opportune and humiliating surrender of this wanton bitch under him, wild with the
effects of the hashish and Bola which had used to lower her resistance. Her arms 
which had been tightly entwined around his neck, her long, tapered nails clawing 
frantically at him to pull him into her, suddenly slithered down now and seized his 
ass-cheeks with demon-like strength to help him fuck between her naked thighs 
with greater impetus. Juicy smacking sounds filled the room with each brutal 
stroke he made into her, blending in tempo with the sounds of their breathing and
the rhythmic lurching squeaks of the bed. Their bodies were drenched with sweat 
from their exertions as Carlo labored over her, changing his quick frantic thrusts 
to longer, smoother strokes that brought his hotly throbbing cock almost all the 
way out of her desperately clutching vagina on the back-stroke and then forward 
into her until she could feel the blood-swollen head of his penis colliding hard 
against her womb deep inside.

Her body was slippery from the sweat of the wild untamed gyrations of her 
ravenous body and her head flailed crazily back and forth on the satin spread 
beneath them as she began reaching for the orgasm just beyond her grasp.

Carlo heard her sharp gasp of pleasure as his hands roamed on the softly 
yielding crevice of her buttocks and, surging with the building tempo of his lust, 
he moved his hands higher to draw her legs up and around his neck, clasping her 
ankles together like some human necklace. He fucked into her mercilessly now, 
skewering her, and she was loving it, fucking back shamelessly, urging him on, 
calling for more ... more ... everything!

"Darling, fuck me! Fill me!" she begged, gasping as if she were close to death.

"You're a little whore, aren't you?" he demanded, ramming harder for 
emphasis. "You love cock, don't you?"

"Ooooooooh, yesssssss! ... Yesssssss! I love cock ... fucking ... cock!" she 
moaned, out of her head with the humiliating truth of her confession. Stirred by 
her own lewd words, she swung her ecstatically trembling thighs up and tightened
them around his neck, grinding her naked young ass in uncontrolled frenzy up 
and down, from side to side, spiraling her sweet, hot young cunt along the full 
length of his huge ramming cock to gain every atom of pleasure she possibly 
could.

He knew that she was his now, completely, utterly, and had no intention of 
showing the least bit of mercy or human compassion. He wanted to hear her 
plead for his hot cum, to beg to be filled with it. And even she, in her mindless 
ecstasy, could sense the building storm of sperm in his testicles, that soon he 
would give her the load she wanted so shamelessly.

"Tell me, you bitch, tell me what you want," Carlo growled as he purposefully 
slowed his stroking movements and teasingly sank his tremendous penis only 
halfway into her. "Do you want my cum in you? Do you!"

"Oh yes, yes, please!" the voluptuous young blonde gasped, her pride 
completely vanished as she lay impaled and naked under his weight. The thought 
of begging him to drive the huge cock into her and empty his balls in her belly 
was unbearable, but she was beyond caring and yearned only to share a mutual 
pinnacle of pleasure with this tyrannical stranger.

Pleased that she had submitted to his demand, Carlo increased the tempo of 
his lunges until he could feel the load of his male sperm rising for an 
earth-shattering release, the huge head of his cock flexing and suddenly growing 
larger inside her ravaged cuntal passage. And then, at last, he grunted like a 
dumb beast and heaved forward, his hot thick liquid spewing deep up into her 
stretched and battered womb.

Elaine was stunned when she unexpectedly felt the gush of his hot cum shoot 
into her writhing belly. It was too soon ... She was so near, almost at her peak, 
and the astonishing explosion of Carlo's climax brought tears to her eyes.

Carlo felt her cunt jerk toward him, the lips working and sucking at his spurting
cock. Then ... after a long moment ... he rolled off her, breathing deeply in an 
effort to fill his lungs with air.

"No! No!" she cried, spreading her legs wider and raising her naked young cunt
into the air in search of something to fill it. "Fuck me! Fuck me!" she pleaded 
hoarsely as she drew back her legs even further, pulling apart the fleshy wet lips 
of her cunt and presenting him with a perfect view of her open throbbing cuntal 
passage oozing his shining sperm. "More, you bastard, I want more cock in me!" 
she shrieked at him in her violent frenzy.

Carlo grinned lasciviously as he watched Elaine's cunt flailing wildly. Now, he 
thought, now I'll fix the little bitch. Reaching to the night table, he pushed one of 
the buttons-the button that would summon the surprise Marceau had arranged for
him. Turning back to the writhing figure on the bed, he said, "Patience, my dear, 
in a few moments you will have more cock-plenty of cock."

"Please ... Please ..." Elaine moaned from the bed, her voice trailing off. She 
was going mad, and in desperation she shoved two fingers into her wetly 
throbbing pussy and began finger-fucking the hungry pink folds of her own 
hungrily clasping cunt. It wasn't what she wanted, but it was better than nothing. 
She was glad to have something to fill the void of her starving cunt that she did 
not hear the door open, nor see Nick and Trembles enter the room ...


Chapter 14

Meanwhile, Warren Craig, the Count's guest, sat in the center booth listening 
to the strains of rock music issuing from the empty stage. He was bored; 
everyone seemed to have disappeared to somewhere or another.

Idly, he switched on the television set above his head. When the picture came 
into focus, he was no longer bored. The picture showed the interior of a bedroom,
with a couple rutting in the middle of a large bed. As he reached up to adjust the 
color he discovered that the room was decorated only in one color---green. He 
stared intently at the couple, trying to make out their faces. Ah, now he had it. It 
was a young man he hadn't met and the rich heiress he had met earlier, fucking 
wildly, oblivious that anyone was watching them.

Curiously, he pressed one of the set's colored buttons and watched the set 
change channels. What was there? The room was the same, just a different 
decorative color---yellow. And here too, was a couple rutting wildly. He studied 
their faces. It was Benito and his rich widow. He pushed the orange button. Ah, 
this was even better. His friend the Count was stretched full length on the bed 
with one of the young girls---the dark-haired one---straddling his loins while 
another one of the even younger nymphets eagerly straddled his face, fucking her
little cunt against his mouth as though she had been doing it all her life. 
Hmmmmmm. If only the FCC could see this! He pushed the violet button. Ah, 
Marceau. Now this looks interesting. On the bed was the giggling redhead with 
her head buried in the loins of another of the young girls, who was equally 
enthralled with the private parts of the redhead, oblivious to Marceau who was 
using a big black whip on the 14 year-old blonde girl who had appeared on the 
stage. He tried to watch the girls on the bed but with Marceau's bare-assed 
antics, getting between the bed and camera, he couldn't see a damned thing.

So, he pressed the last button---the blue one!

Ah, ha, Carlo! And behind him, the big black drummer and the midget, 
Trembles, Marceau's chauffeur. But who was the blonde on the bed finger-fucking 
herself. He squinted to get a better look. My God! It's Elaine! Elaine! My wife ... 
ex-wife. What ... what in the hell is she doing here? And like that!

Without bothering to turn off the set, Warren left the booth and hurried toward
the corridor ...


Chapter 15

"You wanted more prick! Well here it is!" Carlo said harshly to the writhing 
figure on the bed. "Look at it!" he commanded.

Elaine's eyes fluttered open, but her fingers continued slamming in and out of 
her cock-starved vagina. What she saw made her recoil in sheer 
astonishment---and her fingers stop. Nick stood alongside the bed, his huge black
penis as thick as her wrist, long and throbbing, rising up in ebony hardness like a 
jerking tower from between his legs. Holding his rigid shaft proudly, Nick edged 
onto the bed, then reached down with his other hand to draw back the foreskin in 
a teasing motion that brought a smile to his lips.

"You still want some prick?" Carlo taunted

Elaine's eyes were wide with fright as she stared at the inhumanely massive 
cock, but the drug's effect on her hungry pussy was stronger. If she didn't have a 
relief soon, she would go out of her mind.

"God, yes," she pleaded, not really knowing what she was saying. "Fuck me! 
Fuck me before I go mad."

Carlo nodded and Nick reached forward with both hands and pulled Elaine 
across the bed, forcing her head down between his dark thighs in a position that 
was uncomfortable to stand unless she moved to the floor on all fours.

"No," she cried, "put it in me!"

"Not until you suck it," Carlo commanded from behind her. "If you're a good 
little girl, then you can have some cock."

At this point the sex-crazed young divorce would do anything for it. Her 
tongue darted out automatically, the tip coming into wet warm contact with 
shining head of his cock. She circled her pink fleshy tongue around the smooth, 
rubbery black flesh as he groaned and twisted above her. Her hands dropped to 
the base of the huge erected prick and she cupped his smooth, heavy testicles 
with one of them, grazing her dainty tapered nails tantalizingly over the hairy 
flesh. The other hand she placed at the thick base of his penis where it soared 
from the crinkly black pubic hair covering his lower stomach. She squeezed it, her
fingers barely able to fully encircle the huge girth, and pulled up and then down 
hard, skinning back the foreskin until the large gleaming head stood alone and 
naked against the softness of her wetly parted lips. She began planting moist 
warm kisses around it, beginning at the tip and tracing a path down the full length
of it to the bottom and then moistly back up to the tip again.

But the huge Negro could wait no longer. With a gurgle deep in his throat, he 
reached down to lock his hands behind her head and thrust his loins up with the 
strength of a bull, and the broad, thick black cock crushed through her soft moist 
lips into the warm wet cavern of her mouth. She could feel the hugeness of it 
slithering up the length of her tongue and stuffing her mouth completely with its 
thick fleshy hardness. He began a slow, lascivious rhythmic undulation of his hips 
up into her lust-contorted face.

Just then, out of nowhere, she heard another voice. "Shall I start now, Carlo?"

"Yes, start, start!" Carlo barked.

"Whmmmmmm, whmmmmmmmt," Elaine struggled to ask, attempting to 
form a question around the cock in her mouth. God, what else? she wondered 
hysterically, trying to imagine what the unknown man was about to do with 
Carlo's consent.

"This charming young girl wants it, don't you, Elaine? You want the special 
treatment? Right?"

"Mmmmmmmm, nommmmmmmm," she protested. She did not even know 
why or what she was afraid of.

Carlo grinned as he watched the midget hurry to the bed and grab the cheeks 
of her nakedly writhing ass presented up to him.

They were all so engrossed in this new debasement that they did not hear the 
door silently open and then shut. Nor did they see the man who stood in the 
shadows watching the merciless despoiling of his ex-wife.

"Now," Carlo hissed as the midget parted Elaine's quivering legs and pushed 
his short blunted penis into the defenselessly upthrust crevice of her buttocks.

The drugged young divorce mumbled in protest as she felt her anus being 
stretched, the walls of her narrow anal passage popping open from the harsh 
outward pull of her ass-cheeks.

"Here it goes ..." Trembles said, growing excited as he pushed his impatiently 
throbbing shaft forward and pressured the giant tip into the opening of Elaine's 
cruelly stretched ass. They were sadistically abusing the girl and she was poised 
in hopeless dejection, on all fours like a dog, the hands holding her so strong that 
she could not escape. Waves of shame and humiliation washed over her in an evil 
tide of defilement. She was glad now for the drugged drinks she had had earlier 
or she could never have stood being sandwiched in this lewd position between 
them with the depraved black man and the unknown man free to do as they 
wished. She could not see who was entering her from behind but felt his pressure 
and grunted with pain even greater than before when his thickness pushed 
further into her. She wanted to lift her mouth and scream for them to stop, tears 
running freely down her cheeks as the shaft penetrated another torturing inch and
then another. It was hideous and she felt her buttocks being swept wider as the 
instrument bored forward into the tightly clenched canal of her ass. Her pussy 
was aflame. Her arms were trembling and her back ached from the inhuman 
position she was in. She could only mumble.

"Put it in deeper ... Give her the ass-fucking she deserves," Carlo urged the 
midget.

The agony increased as he rammed forward still further, and she felt as if her 
tender body would split all the way up to her swinging breasts.

Suddenly, without warning, the implacable desire inside her cunt became a 
rabid torrent once more, and she began to roll her buttocks high up behind her, 
clasping desperately with her cunt muscles at the hotly pulsing penis burrowing 
into her anal passage.

Now she wanted to exploit it to the limit, to fill her entrails with it. She 
punched back wildly at the throbbing shaft in her ass and sucked voraciously at 
the massive black cock in her mouth, almost gagging, her cheeks hollowing and 
filling with his every thrust. It was the first time she had ever tasted cock, and 
now it was sliding down into her desperately working throat as she fought for 
breath, managing to catch quick gulps of it on the outstroke of his thrusting. She 
was beyond fighting this lewd rape of her mouth and rectum. She could not even 
visualize what was happening to her---she was all sensation and mentally raving 
at the slave to erotic fury she had become within a mere matter of minutes.

"Well now, look at her ... She's changed a lot hasn't she," she heard Carlo say 
sarcastically.

The powerfully pistoning penis in her rectum smacked with renewed force, as if
in answer, ravaging her, disappearing and surfacing, caving her forward onto the 
Negro's rock-hard cock and spreading Elaine's throat until she thought she would 
die from suffocation alone.

She arched upwards, the cords in her strained neck standing out, her long 
blonde hair falling on the ebony loins around the cock she was sucking with all her
might, trying to time her movements to those of the Negro's ... yet never 
forgetting to follow as much as possible the quivering gyrations and pummelings 
of the long hard shaft behind. It was ramming and fucking into her at its full 
length, and God! it was beginning to feel wonderful!

"Slap the bitch's tits!" Carlo shouted to the black man. In obedience, Nick 
released her head with one hand and then drew it back to deliver a sharp, 
stinging slap to one of her bouncing breasts. The kneeling blonde responded, 
moaning with a muffled sound and yet feeling a delicious sensation of odd 
masochistic joy. The blow only increased her sense of debasement, thus 
increasing her shame, but nothing could diminish the pleasure she was beginning 
to feel.

Oh, if only he would-shoot his cum in my mouth, Elaine yearned, mumbling out
her submission to the lewd desires racing through her cock-ravished body. She 
was truly their slave, and now, inciting her more, the huge Negro valet was 
leaning forward a little to course his hands over her swollen white breasts. He was
reaching the crescendo of his own desire, she could tell, and wormed as best she 
could one of her hands over to once again cup his magnificent balls, pulling on 
them lightly as she was driven backward with each lunge he made into her hot 
wet throat.

"Tighten your lips, bitch!" he snapped at the slaving girl, his voice tight with 
passion.

Elaine followed his bidding, at the same moment feeling her own climax 
approaching, the first of a rapid series of mind-destroying jolts.

Then all hell broke loose!

Nick, in front of her, jerked suddenly as though lashed with pain and jammed 
his hips up tightly into her face, sinking half the fantastic length of his wildly 
jerking cock deep in her gasping throat. She could not breathe, could not care, for
the incredible prick was erupting in the gratefully receiving interior of her sucking 
mouth as strange, profane chantings escaped his lips. His hot thick sperm 
squirted into her mouth like a rush of raging water through a storm drain, and she
sucked and swallowed, her cheeks inflating and deflating the whole time from the 
pressure of the bursting dam of Negro cum. It lasted forever, it seemed, her 
throat accepting the warm sticky liquid of his passion, and then it pulsed with a 
long last jerk ... at last softening beneath her swirling tongue. The young 
divorce's reason was gone, and she clung to him as her greatest orgasm of all 
stiffened her voluptuously writhing body, flooding out in great sensual waves of 
cum just as the thick, jack-hammering cock in her ass spewed into her too. Cum 
flowed out of her in hot liquid streams, making her cunt lips throb and flower 
open wide as it ran down the insides of her trembling thighs. Her ecstasy was 
indescribable, and all of her groin felt wet and used beyond belief.

She was crying, tears of real joy pouring from her eyes; then they fluttered 
closed and she released the Negro's now limp penis, its softness slipping from her
tightly pursued lips with a slight pop as, at the same time, the cock withdrew 
from her satiated rectum with a wet, obscene sucking sound.

Elaine fell immediately across Nick's thighs, exhausted, her surrender almost 
complete. Almost ... Because at that moment she opened her eyes and saw the 
midget who had been fucking her from behind ... Almost ... because just then the 
stranger stepped from the shadows, and she stared with disbelief at her 
ex-husband ... Almost ... because, one after another, all of the guests took turns 
on her, keeping her hot wet cunt and soft sucking mouth filled with male flesh.

And she loved every minute of it!


Epilogue 

Carlo sat back in his chair, crossed his long legs, and surveyed the plaza. There
were not many people in the square and those who were strolling up and down 
were mostly San Franciscians. Another spring, thought Carlo, the beginning of 
another season. Soon, there would be crowds in the square, crowds of eager 
tourists, all ripe for the plucking ...

Trust Benito to be late, he thought, I have to bloody well wait while he takes all
day to get here.

Just then he saw Benito's short, stocky figure hurrying across the plaza toward
him. Benito spotted him, waved and broke into a trot; Carlo raised one hand in a 
languid salute.

"Sorry. Sorry." Benito was out of breath. He sat down at the table, looking 
intently at Carlo.

"Where did you get that sun tan?" he asked Carlo.

"In the mountains," was the brief reply. "Weren't you there at all this year?"

Benito looked confused. "I ... I haven't been well," he muttered. "My nerves 
were all shot to pieces. I've been resting at home ..."

Christ, thought Carlo, if he's spent the winter at home with that monster of a 
mother, no wonder he looks pale.

"Have you got the apartment?" Benito asked.

Carlo nodded.

"Same as last year?"

Carlo nodded again.

There was a brief silence. "You heard about Nino, I suppose," Carlo finally 
remarked.

Benito shook his head. "I haven't heard much news lately."

"Then you'll doubtless be interested to hear that Nino---our dear friend 
Nino---married Sue Miller, the heiress. Her father had not only millions, but 
multi-millions. I checked," Carlo said. "We can't afford to make mistakes over 
details like that."

Benito didn't answer. They sat quietly for a few minutes, each lost in his own 
thoughts.

Carlo's mind was busily reviewing the season's prospects. It was going to be a 
good year, he could feel it in his bones. He had dumped the travel agency job. All 
sweat and precious little profit. Now he had some real contacts, the kind who 
would put him onto the really lucrative stuff. He leaned further back in his chair, 
his long legs stretched out before him. The details were nicely sewn up already. 
He would be getting the lowdown on every well-heeled arrival in San Francisco, 
even before any of them hit town. There were some very interesting projects 
lined up. Marceau and the Count had the hots just thinking about the parties they 
were going to organize; Carlo knew how their minds' worked ... And his new 
partner should add a new wrinkle to the game.

Benito looked uncomfortable. He wriggled on his seat. "Let's get the apartment
settled," he suggested.

"The rent is higher than last year," Carlo said smoothly. "But that's only to be 
expected. Nothing else is changed."

A pale ray of April sunshine suddenly brightened the plaza. They both looked 
up just 186 - as the slim figure approached their table.

Carlo rose, saying to Benito, "Here she comes now."

Benito's eyes twinkled in recognition as the lovely blonde with the piercing blue
eyes settled into the chair Carlo pulled out for her.

"Benito, you remember Elaine, don't you," Carlo said.

"Yes," Benito answered, "I remember Elaine ..."


The End
