The Unwilling Mistress
by Alma Werdon


INTRODUCTION 

Many major bestselling novels have been written about the corporate scene 
and the intricacies and intrigue of the executive suite. The Unwilling 
Mistress zeroes in on the world of high finance and brutally exposes the 
banking business with its manipulation of men and money. 

Some form of banking was conducted at the ancient temples of Egypt, 
Babylonia, and Greece. The Bible describes the money lenders and money 
changers in vivid terms as they wheeled and dealed with the less fortunate 
citizens of those early civilizations. Through all of history this economic 
fountainhead has played a major role in the lives of people. 

Alma Werdon's story places the powerful bank vice-president Milton King 
under microscopic examination as he plays puppet master and moves his 
subordinates about the carpeted and chromed stage of his establishment. The 
strings he pulls affect the lives of half a dozen people. They include two 
of his employees whose future careers in the banking circles depend upon his 
personal acceptance or rejection. 

Just as cattle, oxen, and other beasts of burden were used in early times 
for bartering and mediums of exchange, King uses his staff members to 
negotiate his needs and maintain the balance of power. The clinical world of 
income statements and balance sheets becomes a battleground for personal 
profit and gain. 

The pyramid concept with the beneficent banker looking down from on high and 
watching over the funds and futures of his depositors is blasted to pieces 
as this empirical figure exercises his corporate responsibilities for his 
own personal benefit. 

Intertwined with this financial wizardry is the downfall and demise of moral 
values and principle among the characters who are forced to participate in 
the banking game. The quest for promotion and success in the business world 
changes Jessica's life style forever. This sphere of influence encompasses 
her best friend and other peripheral acquaintances. 

The price for climbing the corporate ladder of success is extremely high. 
Each rung requires another sacrifice, but it is a ritual that is being 
played throughout the world today. Organizational charts are structured and 
restructured on this basis. Members of the boards of directors for the many 
companies operating around the country play musical chairs constantly. 

Just as the bestseller list of 1970 carried Love Story in the fiction 
category, Robert Townsend's nonfiction Up the Organization was included in 
this impressive rating. It revealed some of the innermost secrets of the 
business arena. 

Dansk Blue Books believes its readers will find ample food for thought in 
The Unwilling Mistress. Although the characters are fictitious, you may well 
recognize your friendly bank manager, teller, or loan officer. And if you 
are climbing that ladder in the quest for financial security, you may find a 
message of interest that will be useful for future planning in playing 
"one-upsmanship" in the business world. 

The Publishers 

 Chapter I 

Jessica Irwin swooped in great circles on the frozen farm pond, her tightly 
laced ice-skates biting crisply into the slick surface. Her scarlet tights 
and brief scarlet skirt, topped off by a white stocking cap that matched her 
white skates, were brightened still further by an attractive Argyle sweater. 

Wayne Evans stood on the bank and watched her graceful pirouettes, one skate 
on and the other still in his hand. "Watch out for those darker spots!" he 
shouted. "It could be a little thin now!" He watched intently as the 
scarlet-clad figure performed a figure-eight. "Watch it, Jessie!" 

Jessie beckoned to him impatiently. "Come on, slowpoke!" she called. "You're 
wasting time!" 

She hadn't skated in several years, but she was delighted to find she hadn't 
lost the knack. The pond was a mile away from the former farm home of Wayne 
Evans, her fellow employee at the Centralia State Bank. Jessie cut several 
tight circles while Wayne put on his other skate and somewhat gingerly 
joined her. 

"Isn't it beautiful here today?" Jessie inquired, smiling happily. Her long 
blonde hair had partially escaped from beneath the stocking cap and was 
blowing in the chill breeze. Her cheeks were red from her expenditure of 
effort in the near-zero temperature. 

"Watch yourself," Wayne said again, slapping his mittened hands together for 
warmth. "There's springs under here, and some areas never freeze completely. 
They pipe off the excess, so there's always running water under the surface 
of the ice." 

Jessie poked him in the ribs. "Don't be such a fuddy-duddy," she commanded. 
"Let's cross hands and skate together to the other end." 

Her quicksilver fluidity and grace made it difficult for Wayne to keep up 
with her, but he did his best. His acne-scarred features were almost as 
scarlet in the cold wind as Jessie's tights. Jessie disengaged her hands and 
went into a routine that finished with her gliding backward slowly on one 
skate with upraised arms stretched to either side. "See how easy it is?" she 
demanded, although her hard breathing belied her appearance of ease. "If 
you'd only-" 

"Watch it!" Wayne shouted apprehensively. "You're backing up into a 
bad-looking-" 

Jessie never heard the end of his sentence. Her heart leaped into her throat 
as the single skate on which she was balanced began to cut through the 
surface. She went in so smoothly she wouldn't have believed it were it not 
for the sudden icy embrace of the farm pond water on her ankle, calf, knee, 
thigh, and waist. She hit bottom then, but floundered with the upraised leg 
until she stood completely immersed, navel-deep. "Owoooooo!" she cried out. 
"It's COLLLLLLLLLLLDDDDDDD!" She put both palms on the ice and tried to 
boost herself out, but the edge broke under her weight. "Wayne! H-help me! 
I'm f-freezing!" 

Wayne was already skating cautiously in her direction, trying to decide the 
best approach to the problem. There were no trees from which he might have 
broken a branch, and the farmhouse was a mile away. He circled Jessie 
cautiously, then windmilled his arms furiously as he felt the ice giving way 
beneath him. "Sonofabitch!" he gasped as the icy deluge engulfed him to the 
waist. He ended up in the same hole six feet away from Jessie. 

Her lips were already blue, and she was still trying frantically to find a 
patch of ice thick enough to support her. Wayne stumbled toward her, 
balancing awkwardly on his skates on the mucky bottom of the pond. He moved 
in beside her and began breaking more ice. "We're gonna have to break it all 
the way to the bank unless we get 1-lucky," he said through chattering 
teeth. "Come on. With this wind it's no joke." 

He led the way, smashing ice-edges with wet-mittened hands already freezing 
to his wrists. His hard breathing was a chilled rasp in his throat. He found 
a thicker surface finally, took hold of Jessie's waist, lifted her bodily, 
and skidded her across a section of ice. When she stopped sliding, her skirt 
and tights immediately began to adhere to the icy surface. "Get to the 
bank!" Wayne ordered. He flung himself onto the more solid patch of ice and 
scrambled to his knees when it supported him. "Come on, Jessie!" he urged, 
bending down over her and trying to pull her upright. 

"Ohhh, W-Wayne!" she half-sobbed. "Wh-what are we going to do? The car's at 
the f-farm-house!" 

"There's a shack with a fireplace two hundred yards behind the trees," he 
said. "We'll have to use that, but first we've got to make the bank." He 
succeeded in getting Jessie partly erect, although she was bent almost 
double and standing in wobbly fashion on slack-ankled skates. Wayne pushed 
her toward the bank and finally prodded her up onto its snow-covered 
surface. 

"Get your skates off before the laces freeze!" he encouraged Jessie. 

"My c-clothes are freezing to me!" Jessie wailed. The already skin-tight 
scarlet tights were drawn snugly into her crotch, outlining her plump 
sex-bulge. 

Wayne knelt and brushed the ice from her skates, unlacing them as rapidly as 
his fast-numbing hands permitted. He pulled her skates off and then did the 
same with his own. Both of them were wearing heavy wool skating socks over 
ordinary socks. "Run!" he said to the nearly weeping Jessie. "We've got to 
make the shack!" 

He made her move ahead of him along the snowy bank and then through a dimly 
defined path between the leafless trees. The shoeless exertion of trotting 
through the snow taxed Jessie so that she found herself perspiring despite 
the bitter cold. She could feel sweat-crystals of ice forming on her 
forehead. 

"There-it is!" Wayne panted from behind her as the trees thinned. "There's 
always a fire- laid in the fireplace." 

Jessie raised her head to behold a ramshackle log cabin with a tiny, step-up 
porch. The sight revived her chilled spirit, and she struggled onward, 
trying to ignore her snow-and-ice-chilled feet. Wayne stepped up on the 
porch with a thump and opened the door. "Never locked," he said. "In case of 
emergency like this." 

Jessie entered the single room, which felt even colder than outside. Their 
commingled breaths clouded the icy atmosphere. Jessie stared at a 
three-quarter bed to one side of the brick fireplace while Wayne hurried to 
a cabinet and removed a box of matches. He knelt in front of the fireplace, 
which was stacked with logs, kindling, and paper, and struck a match. "Get 
out of those wet things," he said over his shoulder. 

Jessie began to undress to the sound of fire-crackling kindling, the most 
pleasant noise she had heard in long minutes. Capillary action had drawn the 
frigid pond water up into her sweater and even to her bra. Jessie quickly 
peeled off the sodden clothes, skinned down the tights already stiff with 
frozen ice, then worked down over her plump hips and thighs the clinging 
cold-weather wool panties she had depended upon to keep her warm. 

Clad only in her socks, she stared down at her white body, blue-patched in 
places, and brushed hard at her pubic hair from which particles of ice 
descended to the rough flooring. "Boy, I never saw ice down there before!" 
she exclaimed. 

Wayne had opened a chest from which he produced blankets he threw at the 
bed. "Off with the socks and into the bed!" he said quickly. He paused as he 
saw Jessie's shivering nudity, then looked away. "It will take half an hour 
for this place to warm up decently. Body heat will have to do it for us if 
we're not going to catch pneumonia." 

Jessie pulled off the socks, glazed with ice, and approached the bed. She 
tested the exposed sheet with a hand, then drew it back hurriedly at the 
feel of its damp chill. "Wayne!" she protested. "I can't lie down there!" 

"You can or you'll freeze," he predicted grimly. "I'll cover you with the 
blankets and be with you in a minute. Then it won't be so bad." 

Jessie sat down on the sheet, then yelped as its iciness penetrated her 
half-numbed buttocks. She plunged full-length down into the bed without 
giving herself time to think, then listened to her own loud panting as she 
tried to force breath through her parched-feeling lungs. She had never felt 
so dismally, miserably, excruciatingly cold! She hugged herself with her 
arms and tried to blank out her mind to the acute nature of her distress. 

She felt Wayne piling blankets on top of her, and in a moment she heard him 
slapping ice free from his own garments before he pulled them off. In 
seconds he came to the bed, lifted the blankets, and crawled in beside 
Jessie. She almost yelled at the icy feel of his nude body, but Wayne pulled 
her into his arms and held her tightly as their frigid flesh coalesced for 
the entire lengths of their bodies. 

"Be better-in few minutes," Wayne said, trying to still his chattering 
teeth. "Body heat -greatest thing in world." 

Silence fell upon the cabin except for the popping and cracking of the bark 
on the larger logs which had begun to burn. Jessie gradually became aware of 
the exact nature of her position in the bed with Wayne's arms around her and 
one of his hands in the small of her back. "Don't go to getting any ideas," 
she said, but with no real snap of bite to her tone. She had known Wayne 
Evans for seven years, ever since they had been first employed at the bank 
during a summer program when they had both still been in high school. 

"You can't be so cold when you're thinking of the amenities like who's in 
bed with you," Wayne replied. 

Jessie smiled to herself and burrowed deeper under the blankets. She still 
felt like a block of ice, but not with the breathtaking severity of a few 
moments ago. Tiny tingling prickles of feeling danced through her legs and 
thighs. Her original fear that she would never be warm again faded into the 
dim distance. 

"Speaking of bed," Wayne resumed, "why aren't you making it with King at the 
bank?" 

Jessie roused herself from a drowsy sensation that was beginning to overcome 
her. "Would you believe that it's because I just don't care for our 
executive vice president?" she answered. 

"But you're bucking for the cashier's slot, and Milton King is the man who's 
going to make the appointment," Wayne said. "Milton King has an eye for a 
girl's legs, but you come to work in pants-suits. If Milton had wanted to 
look at trousers he'd have hired men. Your native intelligence must be in 
low gear, Jessie." 

"If I have to screw Milt King to get the job, I don't want the job!" Jessie 
countered swiftly. "He's an insufferable smartass who thinks all women 
stretch out on their backs for him automatically." 

"A good many do," Wayne said. "And you want the job, don't you?" 

"I'm entitled to the job!" Jessie answered indignantly. "I have the 
qualifications and the seniority." 

"But Milton King makes the selection," Wayne said. "And Gloria Carson has 
been taking weekend trips with Milton." 

Jessie felt a sinking sensation. She raised herself on an elbow, then ducked 
under the blankets again as icy air poured in over her bare shoulders. 
"Wayne?" she said. "You mean Milton has already picked Gloria?" 

"I'd say he's about two more weekends away from making the announcement," 
Wayne replied. 

"But he can't! She's not qualified! She's-" 

"In bed she's qualified. Smarten up, Jessie, if you really want the 
position." 

"Certainly I want the position! I've worked for it like a dog! But-" Jessie 
hesitated. "Why don't I just go to Mr. Abercrombie and say that Gloria is 
literally screwing me out of the position that's rightfully mine?" 

"Because our beloved chairman of the board no longer cares to be burdened 
with the details of the day-to-day bank operation, that's why," Wayne 
answered. "He'll brush you off with a fatherly 'He-ha, m' dear girl, no 
exaggerations now, no exaggerations.'" 

Jessie almost giggled as Wayne's voice caught almost exactly the prissy 
enunciation of the bank's board chairman. "What d'you think Mr. Abercrombie 
would say if he could see me now?" she asked her icy bedfellow. 

"He'd say, 'Move over.' If he had a brain in his head, which I doubt," Wayne 
added. He moved the hand in the hollow of Jessie's back slightly lower. 

Jessie stirred at the touch. "Hey, what's going on down there?" she 
inquired. She looked at Wayne's acne-scarred face on the pillow, then looked 
away. She liked Wayne; he was a good friend, but she had no sexual feeling 
for him at all. She had never thought he had any for her, but the feel of 
that palm- 

And then Wayne dropped his hand frankly upon Jessie's chilled buttock area 
and began to stroke her soft globes lightly. "Gorgeous!" he sighed, 
palpating a bouncing beauty. 

"Listen!" Jessie warned, "we're supposed to get warm, but not that warm." 
But she made no effort to withdraw. They did need to get warm, and she felt 
entirely in control of the situation. Although they were almost the same 
age, with Jessie twenty-six to Wayne's twenty-five, she had always felt much 
older in knowledge of the world and had in fact assumed a protective 
attitude toward Wayne. 

Their position in the bed had Jessie's full breasts crowded against Wayne's 
chest. As body heat gradually enveloped them, Jessie's nipples, pinpoints 
from the cold at first, gradually expanded. Wayne felt them, too. "You're a 
real hunk of female, Jess," he said softly. "I always wished I knew how to 
turn you on towards me." His palm, which had warmed a sleek haunch, moved 
over to its twin. 

Jessie's nude belly, softly curved, drew back slightly from its contact with 
Wayne's harder one. "Don't get yourself worked up, Wayne," she said quietly. 
"We've got to get our clothes dry and get out of here and back to the 
farmhouse and the car. Why don't you hang our things in front of the fire?" 

He sighed deeply, but after a moment inched out of the bed, wrapping his 
arms around himself quickly. Hurriedly he draped the sodden clothing over 
chairbacks in front of the fireplace, then dived hurriedly back into the 
warming bed. It was Jessie's turn to sigh as Wayne's hands immediately 
became bolder. 

"Wayne," she said, but then fell silent. Wayne wasn't her brother, although 
her relationship with him had always been sisterly. Why should she expect 
him to ignore such a proffered opportunity? Wayne's right hand had dipped 
between her thighs and was stroking her mound, teasing the pussy-hair which 
had contained icicles such a short time before. Against her thigh Jessie 
could feel a hard bulge which lengthened and thickened. 

Wayne surged halfway up over her as he changed position, and the movement 
brought his face directly within her purview. She stared at the 
hard-looking, shiny, scaly acne-scars, and looked quickly away. She didn't 
realize that Wayne had noticed her instinctive gesture of aversion until he 
slumped down beside her heavily and withdrew the questing hand. 

"Wayne?" she said. "What is it, Wayne?" 

"Ahhhhhh, forget it," he said miserably. "I don't want any charity from 
you." 

"Charity?" 

"That's right. Charity." He flung himself onto his back and stared up at the 
shaggy-barked beams. "You know you can't stand the sight of my face." 

It was true, but Jessie had had no intention of hurting Wayne's feelings. 
And it certainly wasn't as true as the bitter tone of his accusation would 
indicate. She liked Wayne. He was clever, entirely presentable except for 
his face, and good company. Starting in the bank together almost at the same 
time the way they had, they made common cause against a number of stuffy 
behavioral codes and stuffy individuals. 

But Jessie had to admit that there had never been anything of a sexual 
nature between them, and it had been primarily her doing. Wayne had made a 
couple of tentative passes early in their relationship, but Jessie had 
always smilingly turned them aside. She wasn't a virgin, but Wayne did 
nothing for her. And after a while he had stopped making passes and she 
enjoyed the relationship. 

But now she felt guilty about it. After all, Wayne wouldn't have been human 
if he hadn't reacted to finding himself naked in bed with her, would he? 
Despite the entirely innocent background which had placed him there? She 
moved slightly closer to him in the bed, the sheets of which no longer felt 
like an icy shroud each time she changed position. Body heat and the 
emanation from the roaring fire had dissolved the shivering, shuddering 
shakes that had gripped her when she first crawled into the bed. 

She placed a hand on Wayne's shoulder, but he remained unresponsive. "Don't 
act like a martyr, Wayne," she said softly. "You know I consider you my best 
male friend." 

"Friend!" he responded contemptuously. "You're a beautiful girl, Jessie. Do 
you think I don't have any balls? Do you think I'm a eunuch?" 

She slid her hand down from his shoulder to his smooth upper arm and stroked 
it lightly. "I don't denigrate the word 'friend' the way you do," she 
answered spiritedly. "If that's the way you feel about it, go ahead and fuck 
me, since that seems to be what's on your mind." 

But he made no move. "I don't want you letting me do it," he said 
uncomfortably. "I want you to want it, too." For the first time since he had 
removed his hand from her mound, still damp from its icy soaking, he turned 
his head and looked at her. His deep-set eyes, almost spaniel-like in the 
intensity of their gaze, regarded her pleadingly. "Is it too much to ask?" 

"Wayne," Jessie said seriously, "I don't know how many girls you've had, and 
I don't want to know, but didn't it ever occur to you that you have to make 
the girl want it?" 

"Make her?" he said in a tone of disbelief. 

Jessie sighed. "We're all Christian ladies, Wayne, which places men at a 
disadvantage. But some men are born knowing that we're also female animals, 
and those men never make the mistake of asking a girl for anything. They 
take it." 

"You mean-rape?" Wayne's disbelief had turned to awe. 

"Of course I don't mean rape," Jessie said briskly. "We like to have a say 
in the matter. We insist upon it, in fact. But when we say 'no' we don't 
always mean no. We're adhering to the female convention while expecting the 
men to react according to male convention." 

Wayne half-turned in the bed until they were almost body-to-body again. His 
hand returned to her naked belly with renewed eagerness, his fingers twining 
themselves in the thick curls of her dark pubic hair. His middle finger 
separated itself from the rest and probed his bed-companion's silky 
sex-slit, coming to rest at the entrance to her grotto. 

Jessie made herself relax while she experienced the tentative probing of the 
finger. Despite her moralizing little homily to Wayne, she knew she didn't 
really want him. What would it do to his undernourished psyche, however, if 
she refused him the fruit of the unexpected proximity? A man was probably 
entitled to expect the obvious when he found himself in bed with a bareass 
girl. Certainly a man thought he was entitled. If she said no to Wayne now, 
could she really call herself his friend? 

The probing finger separated the cluster of Jessie's moist pussy-hair and 
nudged her vaginal orifice lightly. She widened her thighs under the 
blankets, and Wayne eagerly pursued his advantage. He immersed the finger to 
the first knuckle inside her vaginal orifice and moved it in and out. Jessie 
found herself holding her breath as a hot spark ignited in her sexual 
depths. 

"You're getting wet," Wayne whispered. 

"Yes," Jessie breathed acknowledgment. To herself she thought: "Don't talk! 
Don't talk!" But she remained silent, moving her thighs again to accommodate 
Wayne's wrist between them as he plunged the finger more deeply. 

His frigging of her was more awkward than it was expert, but Jessie's hot 
spark flared to a flaming intensity. Instinctively she reached for the penis 
she had previously felt pressing against her thigh. She seized the erection 
in her palm, closing her fingers over it, and Wayne's whole body trembled at 
the shock of the sensation. 

The ravaging finger boldly finger-fucked her sex-chute as deeply as it could 
reach. Jessie could hear her own audible sighs and feel her own squirming. 
More truly than she had intended, the female animal had suddenly taken over. 
A female animal with cunt in heat and a hard-gristled prick at hand. Jessie 
stroked with her thumb the soft, rubbery-feeling head of the prick in her 
hand while her fingers continued to squeeze the shaft. 

Wayne lunged up in the bed suddenly and surged over her. The blankets fell 
away from them but Jessie hardly noticed the remaining chill in the cabin 
air. She wormed her hips a bit more into the bed's center as the male body 
lowered itself upon her. She widened her thighs, then bit her lip as she 
felt Wayne's prong and balls drag lightly across her gaping pussy. 

Both his hands were at her trim waist as he bumped his prick-head against 
her mustached cloister. Jessie reached down swiftly and took the 
blind-questing prick in her hand again, guiding it to its goal. "Ahhhhhh!" 
she sighed involuntarily as she felt the initial penetration and distension. 
The sturdy shaft eased its way into her heated passage, and then Wayne's 
hips flurried and he plunged into her until he was solidly lodged. 
"Ahhhhhh!" Jessie exclaimed, her voice turning shrill. Her legs came up and 
locked over Wayne's bare back. 

Wayne began to move upon her, working his shaft in and out. His movements 
were uncoordinated, and Jessie's sleek bottom, eager to join in the dance, 
had difficulty matching its own gyrations to the tempo of the stout cock 
lodged in Jessie's pussy-depths. Her hands instinctively clutched Wayne's 
shoulders, seeking to control his rhythm, but to no avail. 

Wayne's knees scrabbled on the bed as he tried for more leverage in his 
poking of the lubricated channel whose tight clutch delighted his prick. A 
starburst of sensation at the tip of his penis assailed him, startling him 
into momentary immobility. Then he powerdived furiously upon the quiescent 
crypt encompassing his tingling prong as he shot load after load of sperm 
into Jessie's cunt. 

She lay on her back as Wayne collapsed upon her. Her hands lightly patted 
his shoulders and back but her mind was a long way off. The hot-glowing coal 
in her interior had died out to be replaced by a vacantly aching sensation. 
She could feel the cock inside her shriveling after Wayne's climax. 

He stirred upon her warmed flesh. "You didn't come," he said hoarsely. 
Disappointment dripped from every self-accusing syllable. 

"A girl doesn't come every time," Jessie said softly. 

"No, it's me," Wayne said. His voice was almost a groan. "I'm no damn good 
in bed. I should apologize to you." 

"Stop it!" Jessie said firmly. "Don't be silly, Wayne." She made herself 
continue the smooth-stroking motions of her palms along his prostrate back. 
His shrunken penis oozed from her cunt with a soft plop, and after a moment 
he raised himself and dropped down beside her. His eyes refused to meet 
hers. 

Jessie remained on her back while she felt Wayne's spend trickling from her 
pussy down into her bottom-crack. There was no water in the cabin, and Wayne 
hadn't worn a rubber. She wasn't on The Pill. Wouldn't it be ironic if in 
accommodating a friend she became pregnant? That would really finish off her 
chance of getting the cashier's appointment at the bank. 

"I'm no damn good in bed," Wayne repeated into the silence in the cabin. "I 
always know what I want to do but I'm never able to do it. I get too 
excited." 

Jessie almost made the mistake of saying that was because he hadn't had much 
experience. Instead, she reached for his hand and pressed it lightly. "Not 
every male-female coupling is a perfect blending," she said quietly. "And I 
doubt that either of us was at our best today after that tumble into the 
freezing pond." She sought for additional words. She didn't want to say next 
time it would be better, because she felt no inducement toward a next time. 
She felt she had done her duty, if that was the phrase for it. "I hope it 
was good for you, Wayne," she concluded. She knew it was lame, but it was 
the best she could manage. 

"You know it was good!" he said fervently. His free hand sought her bare 
breast and fumbled with it clumsily. "You're so beautiful, Jessie and you 
have such a marvelous body." His eyes were devouring her hungrily again as 
she still remained sprawled on her back. 

Jessie maneuvered her breast out of range gently. "I'm getting chilly 
again," she said. 

Wayne took the hint and covered her reluctantly with the blankets. Then he 
slumped down in the bed with his hands locked behind his head while he once 
more stared up at the bark-beamed roof of the cabin. "I really do thank you, 
Jessie," he said without looking at her. "I always told myself I'd never ask 
you, but I couldn't help myself this afternoon." 

Jessie felt even more embarrassed at his grateful appreciation than she had 
at initially rebuffing him. She tried to form a soothing reply, then gave it 
up. What was the sense in attempting to boost Wayne's ego when he had so 
little of it? The slight frustration-cramp in her lower belly was proof 
enough in this case that least said soonest mended. 

Wayne spoke again after another extended silence. "You really ought to think 
over the situation at the bank," he said. His tone was serious. "I'd hate to 
see Gloria get the job just because Milton's laying her. You've got the 
qualifications. She hasn't." 

"Didn't you hear me say if I had to fuck for the job I didn't want it?" 
Jessie asked. 

"Why so high-and-mighty?" Wayne returned. "You can't go any higher in the 
bank until you've used the cashier's position as a stepping stone. And you 
can't wait for Gloria to die off because she's only a couple of years older 
than you are." 

"But Milton King-" 

"Oh, sure, Milton's something else with the girls," Wayne interrupted at the 
sound of the protest in Jessie's voice. "But we've both lived long enough to 
know if it wasn't him it would be someone else. That's business. Not as it's 
written up in the family newspaper, but that's business." 

"You sound like you're ready to take down my panties for him and act as 
chambermaid," Jessie said resentfully. "I tell you I don't even like the 
man." 

"What's that got to do with it?" Wayne demanded. "It would be so damn easy 
for you. I've seen him looking at you. Prance around in front of him for a 
couple days with a few buttons unfastened and you can write your own ticket. 
And it's no small ticket, Jessie. I'll let you in on an ill-kept secret. I'm 
going to get a branch managership one of these days, because I'm a man, but 
for a woman the only way up the ladder is a rung at a time inside the main 
office. And you're turning it down because you don't like Milton's 
arrogance." 

The analysis was so acute that Jessie remained silent. There was so much 
truth in what Wayne said. In this day and age what mattered was a 
bed-session or two with Milton King! Hadn't she accommodated Wayne just now 
with no spark of real feeling for him except friendship? 

But she almost actively disliked the bank vice-president. And the thought of 
coercion, even if mental, troubled her. She had always prided herself upon 
being a free spirit. 

"Well?" Wayne said as the silence again lengthened. 

She stirred uneasily under the blankets. Sometime during Wayne's 
unsatisfactory session with her she had lost all trace of the icily numbed 
feeling in her flesh she had felt when she had stumbled inside the cabin. At 
least she had gained that much. "You're probably right," she said at last. 
"Hell, I know you're right. But I don't think I can do it." 

"It's your decision," Wayne sighed. 

"Yes, and it's my ass, too," Jessie said impudently. 

Wayne smiled, lightening the acne-dark excresences on his face. Then his 
expression changed. "A beautiful one," he said soberly. 

"Are our clothes dry yet?" Jessie asked hastily. She was afraid he would 
turn himself on again via the mental image conjured up in his mind's eye. 

Wayne slid from the bed, stretching luxuriantly. He padded to the fireplace 
and felt the clothes draped over the chair backs. "Still a little damp," he 
reported. "But body heat will probably dry them out after we get into them." 

"Body heat probably saved us from pneumonia or something worse," Jessie 
said. 

"I've got a better word than that to say for it," Wayne replied. He had a 
glint in his eye as he returned to the bed. "It made my day." 

Jessie slipped out of bed on the opposite side as casually as she could 
manage it. "I told Irene I'd be home early," she said, walking quickly to 
the chairs and retrieving her long-thighed woolen panties. She inserted 
first one leg and then the other before wriggling them up over her plump, 
bell-shaped behind. "It's my turn to make dinner." Without looking at Wayne 
she inserted her arms through the straps of her clammy-feeling bra, encasing 
her large breasts as dark-blue-nippled as any Concord grape but with pink 
tips. 

Wayne began to dress silently, lips compressed. Jessie knew he had noticed 
the evasion, and that his sensitive antenna had absorbed the rejection. 
Wayne was too sensitive for his own good, she decided. 

Wayne opened the cabin door when they were ready. Jessie flinched at the 
blast of cold air that seemed to penetrate through her damp clothing. They 
had a mile to walk to the car. She took a final look around the cabin that 
had proved their salvation in what could have been a critical situation on 
such a zero day. Wayne had returned the blankets to the closet and pulled 
the bed away from the fireplace. Except for the embers among the nearly 
burned-out logs, the place looked almost as deserted as when they'd entered 
it. 

"I'll give one of the kids a buck to load up the fireplace again," Wayne 
said as though reading her unspoken thought. 

Jessie stepped out in her socks onto the snowy path. 

They trotted to the bank of the farm pond where Wayne retrieved their 
skates. 

They circled the pond and pulled on their shoes which were on the other 
side. 

With no further conversation they set out for the farmhouse and the car. 

Chapter Ii 

Irene Blanchard refilled her ex-husband's glass from the martini pitcher and 
then returned the pitcher to the refrigerator. "Last one," she said. "Jessie 
will be home soon, and I've been pouring the booze into you for only one 
reason." Irene was a slender, thin-featured girl with a thick mop of 
chestnut hair she wore pageboy style. 

"And what could that reason be?" Norman Blanchard inquired with heavy irony. 
His tall figure looked in good shape even sprawled loosely in a kitchen 
chair. He wore a loud-checked sport jacket and tan-colored slacks. His 
features were frank and open in appearance, and he had a quick smile and a 
breezy laugh. Only his eyes gave a hint of inner fire. He was an automobile 
salesman, and a good one. Irene was a registered nurse. 

"The only thing you're good for," Irene informed him coolly in response to 
his rhetorical question. She had been married to Norman Blanchard for three 
years, and they had averaged two or three violently bitter arguments a day. 
There had been only one place where they hadn't argued. 

"You should know, kid," Norman agreed. "I've plowed your furrow often enough 
that if you had a long, spiky hair on your back for each time you'd look 
like a porcupine." He downed half his drink, wondering idly why he disliked 
Irene so much everywhere except in bed. They had just never been able to get 
along. Both had quick tongues and the uninhibited practice of employing them 
freely. 

"A little less conversation, please," Irene said. She removed her glasses 
and placed them on the table. The act altered her appearance so that she 
looked younger than her twenty-seven years. She and Jessie Irwin had shared 
an apartment ever since the breakup of Irene's marriage to Norman. 

Irene reached both hands around to the back of her neck and first unhooked, 
then unzipped her dress. She peeled it off her shoulders and worked it down 
her body before stepping out of it. She had the dazzlingly white skin of the 
true redhead, and her bare shoulders glistened in the light. She removed her 
slip and stared impatiently at Norman moodily studying the remainder of his 
drink. "Come on, Norm," she said impatiently. "I told you Jessie will be 
home soon." 

"What the hell, we could always give the kid a show," he said easily. 
"Brighten up her man-less life." 

Irene quirked an eyebrow but said nothing. She slipped her fingers inside 
the elastic waistband of her little-girl-style panties and pushed them 
downward, half-turning as she did so in order to present her back. She posed 
for half a minute before lowering the panties to her ankles and kicking them 
aside. She knew what turned Norm Blanchard on. No one knew better. 

Her ex-husband stared at his former wife's graceful buttock contours, the 
skin silky-smooth and the flesh slimly finespun in quantity yet delicately 
full. Irene had the body of an eighteen-year-old and the sexual 
inventiveness of a Medici princess. It was a combination to which Norm 
Blanchard returned again and again despite telling himself angrily that the 
world was full of women, so why come back to this sharp-tongued specimen who 
continually ripped him up verbally? 

But never in bed. 

No, never in bed. 

She knew what she had in him just as he knew what he had in her. Once, 
before their life together had become mutually intolerable in its everyday 
aspects, he had suggested in jest that if a sex exhibition were added to the 
next Olympic games they should enter because they were a cinch to win. 
Together in bed they were all-American ass. 

He rose from his chair abruptly after gulping down the remainder of his 
martini. Swiftly he stripped off his sport jacket and toed off his loafers. 
He unbuckled his belt and removed his tan slacks. Irene turned slowly toward 
him after taking off her bra. She massaged the underside of her breasts 
gently with her palms where the bra cups had reddened her white flesh. Her 
breasts jutted firmly in a surprising plenitude considering her slim 
physique, the strawberry-pink nipples tightening rosebud-fashion in the 
sudden coolness after their freedom from confinement. 

Neither of them said anything. Irene led the way into the nearer bedroom of 
the two-bedroom apartment. Norm followed, his gaze hungrily fixed upon the 
tick-tock sway of his ex-wife's bare behind. He finished undressing and sat 
down on the bed, and Irene knelt down in front of him between his parted 
thighs. 

He already had a lazy erection, and Irene took it in her soft hand. The 
thick-stemmed prick in her grasp overflowed her clasping fingers, the 
blood-gorged head purplish-rampant and the blue-veined shaft turgid with 
sex-arousal. Irene lowered her head toward the gristly rod and licked 
delicately at the blunt head. A quick tremor ran through Norm Blanchard's 
heavy, hairy thighs. 

Irene ovaled her mouth and lipped the stout prick-head inside. She worked 
her mouth up and down on the shaft, sucking gently while she gave an 
occasional quick swirl of her facile tongue along the corrugation on the 
underside of the meaty penis. Norm Blanchard's hands came down upon Irene's 
red hair as she expertly sucked him into consummate rigidity. 

"That's enough!" he said suddenly, pushing her away. "Sonofabitch, you've 
got a mouth like a vacuum cleaner. Get your ass up in the air." 

Irene rose from her knees and climbed onto the bed, rolling onto her back. 
As always, the feel of Norm's brawny cock in her mouth had turned her 
interior to jelly. In her imagination she could already feel the rigorous 
distention of her flowerlike pussy-lips by the stiff prick before its 
stalwart robustness plunged into her hot-yearning cunt. She elevated her 
long, slender legs and widened them as Norm knelt in front of her. 

He paused, crouching, to examine the lengthy, pink-enfolded crease of her 
sex apparatus. With his thumbs he brushed the silky pussy-hair to either 
side of her pouting gash, and at his touch upon her most intimate flesh 
Irene's whole body thrummed like a plucked guitar string. Norm teased the 
fleshy crevice with a gliding fingertip, and Irene breathed deeply while her 
tongue rapidly circled her dry lips. 

Norm straightened up and shuffled forward on his knees in between her 
uplifted white legs. He ran the rubbery tip of his lusty cock over his 
ex-wife's cunt-lips much as he had his finger a moment previously. He 
verified with the finger that her vaginal entrance was already liberally 
bedewed with the downpouring from her internal juices, then applied his 
prick-head firmly to the puckery slot, already turning red from Irene's 
sex-excitement. 

Irene's lips parted and her mouth ovaled in unconscious imitation of the 
distention taking place below as Norm's unyielding ramrod pierced her, 
almost as though she once again contained the big prick in her mouth instead 
of in her cunt. She wriggled her hips slightly as the inflexible prong 
crammed her depths, joggling herself from side to side to make more room. 
Her eyes were closed and her breathing labored as Norm began to poke her in 
vigorous fashion. 

"Ohh!" Irene said clearly as the beefy cock began to ramrod her sex-asylum. 
She strained her slim legs upward to try to contain just a fraction more of 
the energized monster ravaging her clinging cunt. "Ohhhh, God! It's-so- 
good!" 

It's the only time she has a good word for me, Norm Blanchard thought to 
himself as he concentrated upon burying his pork in Irene's steaming depths 
to the final quarter-inch. And he had to admit it was the only time he had a 
good word for her. Irene was far and away the best fuck he'd ever had. 
Something about the tremendous combination of his cock and her cunt showered 
sparks down from the skies. 

He dug with his knees as he slammed away at Irene's open-throated, gaping 
pussy, the whacking sounds of his belly contacting hers filling the bedroom. 
Irene feverishly threw her bottom upward to help in her pussy's piercing, 
unconsciously falling into the joint rhythm which had been spectacularly 
theirs ever since their first time in bed together. "Ohhhhhh!" she moaned, 
and the moan trailed off to a whimper. "Fuck me, Norm! Fuck meeeeee!" 

Her breath caught in her throat as a quick contraction of her cunt-sheath 
upon the slippery beef engulfed in it tremored her to her curled-up toes. 
"Norm!" she said urgently, tightening her legs around his back. I'm-coming, 
Norm!" Her delicately shaped but sturdy bare behind flurried convulsively as 
lightning bolts energized it. "Norm! I'm- COOMMMMMMMMING!" 

Beneath him he felt every slightest nuance of Irene's throbbing cunt as it 
grabbed hungrily at his prick. He had slowed momentarily to permit Irene to 
come off unhindered, but now he resumed his deep-plowing action again. 
Irene's warm, shuddering thighs enfolded him again and her hands played 
lightly along his hard-muscled back. 

Deliberately he held down his own excitement as he fucked his ex-wife with 
steady, swinging strokes. He knew Irene was almost always good for a second 
come if she had just a moment to regroup her sexual forces. Already he could 
feel a tightening constriction of the female thighs enclosing him, along 
with a quickening thrust of the oozing cunt containing his thrusting big 
cock. 

A quick shiver rippled through Irene's soft flesh as a renewed flame was 
kindled in her depths. "Ohhhhhh!" she cried out. "There it--is again!" Her 
gleaming white bottom, glistening with a thin film of perspiration, spiraled 
upward from the bedsheet. "Norm! Ooooooh, it's-lovely! Harder! H-harder, 
Norm! Oooooooh! Oooooh! OHHHHHHHHHhhhhhhhh!!" 

Her voice ran down and her thighs slumped laxly as her second come 
overwhelmed her. Above her Norm slashed mightily at her slackened cunt as he 
felt his own eruption near. A slow, tingling throbbing in his prick 
tightened every muscle in his body including the nape of his neck, and he 
banged away in blind passion at Irene's relaxed flesh as his loins spurted a 
rocketing series of jet streams inside her already drenched cunt. When the 
final burst had wrenched itself from his quivering lance he subsided upon 
Irene's belly and breasts. 

Neither of them said anything. 

They had just concluded their only form of successful communication. 

After a moment Norm rolled off his ex-wife and stretched out on his side. He 
was still breathing heavily. Irene rose from the bed and went into the 
bathroom, where she wet one end of a towel and wiped between her legs 
carefully. Tiny interior muscles in her thighs were still fluttering from 
her reaction to Norm's fucking of her, but the immediate postcoital 
lassitude was already evaporating. She employed a spray-douche and again 
wiped herself thoroughly before leaving the bathroom. 

The bedroom was empty. 

She found Norm in the kitchen, still naked, standing at the refrigerator 
pouring himself another drink from the martini pitcher. "Get your clothes 
on!" Irene snapped at him. "D'you think I want Jessie walking in on you like 
that? I don't take an ad in the paper about this sort of thing, you know." 

"But you love it," Norm jeered. 

Irene didn't deny it. "Get your clothes on," she repeated, and stooped to 
pick up her own underwear from the kitchen floor. Despite herself her eyes 
went to Norm's greasy-looking penis, reduced but never small, swinging 
heavily with each movement he made. She hated herself for feeling so 
dependent upon that lump of flesh for whose proprietor she felt no other 
salutatory emotion. It was small satisfaction to her that she knew Norm felt 
the same way about her. He had a current girl friend, Alice, the most recent 
in a long succession of girl friends, but after too many martinis one 
afternoon he had confessed to Irene that none of his girl friends had ever 
held a candle to her in the pure, unadulterated art of lovemaking. 

She used to wonder if such an admission early in their marriage might have 
saved it, but deep down inside she knew better. They should never have 
married at all. They were almost complete opposites. Norm was loud, 
fast-talking, and a natural chaser. Irene was quiet, soft-spoken except when 
angry, and instinctively mono-gamic. They would never have discovered their 
total affinity in bed if Irene hadn't succumbed one night to the female urge 
to find out if this bragging, boasting male actually shot the game he talked 
so well. The fact that he did had been a mind-bending, body-exhilarating 
experience which led to marriage against her better judgment. It simply 
hadn't worked. 

Norm dressed in the kitchen while Irene remade the bed. His mind was already 
on other things; on other ports of call, Irene thought resentfully. "I'll 
call you," he grunted as he swathed himself again in his jacket, a jacket 
whose loud checks should have appeared garish but instead appeared merely to 
highlight Norm's broadshouldered good looks. He had a hand on the apartment 
door, ready to leave, when they both heard Jessie's key in the lock. Norm 
stood aside as she opened the door and entered the apartment in her wrinkled 
skating costume. 

"I was just leavin', sugar," he said breezily to Jessie, "but for you I'd 
make an exception." He reached for her but she evaded him. She had had a lot 
of practice in evading him, and managed it tolerantly. Norm Blanchard's 
attitude in life was to punch all the buttons in sight until he found a 
machine that lit up. Jessie was always scrupulous never to give even a hint 
that she was moving in on the property of her best friend, Irene, despite 
the fact that Irene herself repeatedly declared that she had written off the 
property. 

"What happened to you?" Norm demanded when his eyes stopped caressing 
Jessie's more ample curves long enough to notice that the skating costume 
encasing them was bunched and lumpy-looking. 

"The ice gave way and I went into the pond," Jessie explained. "Fortunately 
there was a shack nearby where we could get partly dry." 

"Yeah, well, you'd better inhale five fingers of whiskey an' take a hot 
shower," Norm advised. "See you, girls." He went out the door, closing it 
behind him. 

Jessie walked from the tiny hallway into the kitchenette. She stopped and 
sniffed the air lightly, then looked inquiringly at Irene. "Yes," Irene 
admitted, "if you'd come home a few minutes earlier you'd have found us in 
the bedroom." She and Jessie had been good friends even before Irene's 
ill-fated marriage, and they had no secrets from each other. 

"Sometimes I think that man is psychic," Irene continued. "All I have to do 
is relax and think a naughty thought or two and the phone rings and there he 
is." 

"And you usually say 'Come on over,'" Jessie said gently. 

"I always say 'Come on over,'" Irene corrected her. She smiled ruefully. 
"Even detesting the big hulk the way I do every second he doesn't have his 
joystick in my playground." 

"He's a handsome brute," Jessie said lightly. 

"Brute is the operative word," Irene said grimly. "But listen, for once I 
agree with him; you've got to get out of those things and into the shower. 
Did I hear you say that 'we' got partly dry in a nearby shack?" 

"Wayne went into the pond, too, trying to get me out," Jessie explained. 

"How could you get dry inside a shack in this near-zero weather, Jessie?" 

"It had a fireplace. And a bed. We stripped and got into the bed while we 
were waiting for the fireplace to warm it up." 

"Ah-ha!" Irene said. "What else got warmed up?" 

"Exactly what you're thinking," Jessie admitted. 

"With Wayne?" Irene looked doubtful. "Somehow I never think of him in that 
capacity." 

"It wasn't much of a capacity," Jessie replied. "But there we were, and what 
was I going to do once we thawed out sufficiently to think about something 
other than how cold we were? I started to stop him once, but he took it 
personally, as an indication I was turned off by his acne, so finally I let 
him do what he wanted." 

"He should do something about his face," Irene said. "It doesn't have to 
look that way. When I was working in a dermatologist's office I learned a 
few tricks myself. But it wasn't any good for you with Wayne?" 

"Not very. I don't think he's had very much experience, or practice, or 
whatever you want to call it. He's not sure of himself." 

"But he has the equipment?" Irene asked curiously. 

"Above average, I'd say," Jessie returned. She began to remove her skating 
costume. "Perhaps well above." She smiled at her friend. "Not that I've 
compared forty dozen male dinguses." 

"Shame on you for not doing so," Irene said. She picked up Jessie's 
discarded clothing and carried it into the bathroom where she deposited it 
in the hamper. She turned on the shower, encased in a roomy glassed-in 
cubicle, and adjusted the water temperature to her satisfaction. "There, try 
that." 

Jessie moved past her into the shower stall after encasing her dark hair in 
a rubber cap. Irene stood watching the gleaming whiteness of her friend's 
body, its luminescence standing out even against the background of white 
tile. Belly, bust, and buttocks, Jessie's curves flowed smoothly into each 
other, each an amplification of Irene's more fragile-looking lissome 
matching points. "Ahhhhh, that hot water feels good!" Jessie sighed, 
pirouetting under the steaming water. "There was a while there this 
afternoon I never expected to feel warm again." 

"I'm going to get in there with you," Irene said impulsively. She began to 
take off her clothing again. Stripped, she put on a matching rubber cap and 
stepped into the capacious cubicle. There was still a faint pink mark upon 
her lower belly, the residue from Norm's stomach frictioning against her 
own. She took a soap bar and began to soap Jessie's full-flowered curves. 
Jessie took another bar and returned the compliment upon Irene's more 
girlish dimensions. 

The two dazzling white bodies gleamed in the steamy atmosphere. They soaped 
and rinsed, soaped and rinsed, hands moving ever more slowly, ever more 
intimately. Irene stood on tiptoe to press a warm kiss upon the nape of 
Jessie's neck. Jessie soaped Irene's deep buttock-crevice lingeringly, 
parting the soft globes to finger gently the anal and vaginal orifices. 

Irene turned off the water at last and the two girls blended in a long, 
affectionate kiss. Outside the shower stall they patted each other dry with 
fluffy towels. Without saying a word they proceeded to Jessie's bedroom 
where Jessie threw back the covers on the bed. The clean sheet received the 
two moist bodies which immediately fused in a passionate mouth-kiss. 

When their lips parted the only sound in the bedroom was their mutual deep 
gasps for more air. Their chins rested on each other's shoulders, their eyes 
closed. Irene began to kiss the creamy skin of Jessie's upper arm, sliding 
her mouth along Jessie's shoulder, bending her head still more to take in an 
additional area of Jessie's tender flesh. 

Jessie raised a languid hand to take hold of the very tip of one of Irene's 
strawberry-pink nipples. She squeezed it until it flowered redly, then 
steered it carefully to rub sexily against her own nipple. Jessie then took 
both tit-stalks between thumb and forefinger and treated them to a prolonged 
fondling. 

Irene sucked at Jessie's upper arm, then removed her mouth and stared 
greedily at the red blotch she had created on the white flesh. "You taste so 
sweet, Jessie," Irene murmured deep in her throat. 

She stroked Jessie's bare behind, reaching over her to do it, then inserted 
a hand between the white thighs and probed persistently until they opened. 
Irene's parted fingers caressed the satin-smooth insides of Jessie's legs, 
occasionally permitting her hand to stray upward and brush meaningfully 
against the silky dark hair surmounting Jessie's pink gash. 

Jessie shivered, and her thighs writhed voluptuously. "I-didn't come-with 
Wayne," she said jerkily. "Help me, Irene." 

Irene let her fingers ascend to Jessie's innocent-looking coral cunt-lips 
and began to tickle them open. She slipped her fingertips into the length of 
Jessie's crevice and strummed them lightly against the already moist 
aperture, playing the plumper girl as if she were a delicate instrument. The 
first joints of Irene's long fingers curled over, working just inside the 
juicy slit and very slowly insinuating the inner lips apart. 

Jessie's arms were around Irene and her hands were on Irene's bottom, 
kneading the sleek round cheeks almost roughly, pinching large folds of 
buttock-flesh between her fingers, then slowly letting it escape. Irene's 
trim-looking bare backside was soon covered with red-looking marks. Jessie 
then inserted a single finger between Irene's thighs. She lifted Irene's leg 
and traced the finger firmly across the very center of Irene's dimpled cunt. 

Irene lowered the upstretched leg over Jessie's hip, and Jessie's finger 
sank beautifully into Irene's sex-asylum. The finger pushed with a slight 
sucking sound between the thick petal-lips and disappeared completely from 
sight. Jessie began to frig it gently in and out, in and out, using the rest 
of her fingers to tickle wantonly the hot, moist length of Irene's squirming 
slot. 

They kissed again, moaning deliriously with the sensation of pleasure they 
were bringing each other. Irene's free hand groped desperately for Jessie's 
breast, found it, and squeezed the soft melon in agitated, furious fondling. 
Jessie elapsed Irene's teat with similar abandon. They were amazingly rough 
with each other. 

As if a starting pistol had been fired, they began a simultaneous fucking 
motion with their hips, driving their straining cunts harder and harder onto 
the fingers penetrating each. Jessie threw her head back suddenly, breaking 
the prolonged contact with Irene's mouth during which tongues were exchanged 
furiously. "I'm coming!" Jessie said hoarsely. "I'm-COMING!" Irene responded 
with a long moan. Jessie thrashed helplessly upon the impaling finger before 
slowing to a sighing surcease. The girls remained motionless for a long 
moment with only slight quivering movements in their thighs betraying their 
immobility. 

Then Jessie raised herself and swung herself around so that her bottom faced 
Irene's head as Irene reclined on her back. Quickly Jessie's right thighs 
lifted and came across Irene's body. Jessie squatted boldly astride Irene's 
shoulders, leaning forward at once so that her hind cheeks opened and the 
luscious, dew-wet valley in between was blatantly displayed to Irene's eyes. 

Jessie bent lower, supporting herself by placing her hands on Irene's 
thighs. As Jessie bent forward, the full beauty of her scarlet-lipped cunt 
came into view. From the backward position it looked like a long, deep 
wound, the puffy lips on either side of the aperture opening to expose the 
red inner flesh. Jessie's fingers plucked on the soft inside of Irene's 
thighs, urging them to open. 

The thighs parted and lifted, and Irene's surprisingly mature, 
fleshy-lipped, lightly oozing pussy came into view. Jessie darted her head 
down upon it, and a spasm rippled through Irene's flesh. At the same time 
she seized Jessie's parted buttocks and drew them backward and down upon her 
face. Jessie's mouth and tongue were working busily all over Irene's 
uplifted quim, until Irene's legs stiffened suddenly, her thighs descended, 
and her heels drummed spastically upon the bed as a quick come overtook her. 

"I can't-reach you, Irene!" Jessie complained hoarsely. 

Irene's thighs raised and parted again and Jessie's quick tongue licked 
lovingly at her friend's overflowing chasm. Irene stroked the wide-beamed 
hind cheeks of Jessie's upturned bare behind gently, using her thumbs to 
spread them more widely until the brown anus came into view. It was pursed 
scant inches above Irene's mouth, and Irene raised her head and deliberately 
trailed her extended tongue from the base of Jessie's pouting cunt right up 
the center of her ass-crease, over the hard, taut bump of Jessie's asshole 
to the beginning of her spine. 

Down came the busy tongue, this time to linger at Jessie's rear hole and lap 
at it steadily. At the other end of the fleshy tangle on the bed, Jessie's 
dark head burrowed ever more deeply as her tongue thrust vigorously inside 
Irene's juicy quiff. Irene lifted herself so that Jessie could penetrate 
still more deeply as her mouth worked violently, worrying the red meat. 
Jessie sucked large pieces of flesh inward and darted her tongue in faster 
and faster movements inside Irene's steaming cunt. 

Jessie's hands slipped beneath Irene's buttocks and began to squeeze them 
urgently. Her fingers dug into the loose folds of flesh, lifting, turning, 
and spreading them in every direction. Her nose buried itself in Irene's 
slit so deeply that it tickled Irene's aroused clit. Jessie's beautiful ass, 
still poised over Irene's face, began to bob and weave in wild, frantic 
spasms, so that Irene had to grip it hard to keep her tongue employed. 

The two girls rolled from side to side on the bed, sucking and chewing 
ecstatically upon the proffered cunts with Jessie's asshole still coming in 
for special attention. Then Jessie scrunched her backside down completely 
over Irene's mouth as a second come overcame her, and lapping and sucking 
sounds attested to Irene's speedy swallowing of Jessie's spend. 

They lay inert for an interval, Jessie's breasts thrust firmly into Irene's 
round stomach, the shapely globes glistening with sweat. Jessie finally 
twisted aside off Irene's body, switching ends in the process, and they 
rested side-by-side on their backs with an arm around each other, both 
upturned cunts still twitching slightly from the aftermath of their 
exertions. A thin film of perspiration covered both silky-skinned bodies and 
their hard breathing caused the strawberry-nippled breasts and the 
grape-nippled breasts to rise and fall in unison. 

They smiled at each other and exchanged a kiss, amusing in its daintiness 
after the immediately preceding fiercely sexual activity. "We'll have to 
shower again," Irene whispered. 

"Yes," Jessie murmured. "Thanks, Irene." 

"Thank you, baby." 

Jessie sighed luxuriantly and flung an arm over her eyes. "I feel so good 
now, Irene." 

"Someone should teach Wayne a thing or two," Irene replied. "It's lousy to 
be left hanging like that." She was silent for a moment. "That's one thing 
you can say about my ex-husband," she resumed. "From the age of twelve Norm 
probably never left a girl hanging. I should be ashamed to admit it but 
sometimes I start to come before he gets it inside me." 

"He's a man," Jessie said. "Wayne's still a boy. In some ways." 

"There's hardly that much difference in their ages," Irene protested. 

"But there's a hard masculinity that projects from Norm," Jessie said. 

"That's not all that projects from him," Irene giggled. She turned her head 
to look at her friend speculatively. "You ought to find someone like Norm, 
Jessie." 

"One of these days," Jessie replied lightly. "Speaking of men, Irene, Wayne 
was giving me a lecture today about not cuddling up more to Milton King. 
Wayne thinks I won't get the cashier's job unless I do." 

Irene had attended several bank parties with Jessie, and she knew Milton 
King. "For once I think Wayne is right," she said. "Milton King is a 
slippery piece of goods near a skirt. But what of it if you want the job?" 

"You mean I should do it? Let him screw me?" 

"Why not? It's the way of the world. You want the job, you go down on your 
back. It's a big deal?" 

"Well, no," Jessie said slowly. "You know I enjoy sex with a man I like. But 
what I don't like is the thought of that sneering Milton gloating over 
having had my ass." 

"He's not that bad," Irene protested. "He's a rather attractive guy, as a 
matter of fact, if you're not turned off by prematurely gray hair. And 
there's no question he's a swinger. Where's the harm in a roll in the hay if 
it gets you what you want? And if you intend to make a career in the bank, 
what choice do you have?" 

"You sound like Wayne," Jessie answered. "That's about chapter and verse of 
the preachment I had from him this afternoon." She pursed her lips 
reflectively. "I don't know. I guess I just don't like the idea of being 
used." 

"You'd be using him, for God's sake!" Irene returned warmly. "You sound like 
Queen Victoria was still on the throne of England. Snap out of it, Jessie." 

"Yes, but-" 

"Get with it, Jessie," Irene reiterated. "This is important to you." 

"Suppose I wasn't his type?" 

Irene snorted with suppressed laughter. "I've seen him watching you, baby. 
He's already bored your cute little cunny in every way except reality. Take 
it from the Voice of Experience, you don't have to worry one iota about not 
being Milton King's type. You can write your own ticket with him." 

"But how can I change so suddenly after being so standoffish with him for so 
long?" Jessie worried. 

"Men don't worry about when a girl turns on with them, honey. Just as long 
as she does." 

"But if he's screwing Gloria now would he have time for me?" 

"You sound like Alice in Wonderland, Jessie. Just wave it under his nose and 
make sure you've got a soft spot to land on your back. Listen, what's wrong 
with fucking for him to get the job and then sticking it up his supercilious 
ass afterward? With the cashier's job under your belt you'll be getting a 
shot at his job someday." 

"Okay, okay," Jessie said. 

"You mean you'll do it?" 

"I mean I'll think about it," Jessie corrected her friend. "Let's shower." 

Thirty playful minutes later a thoughtful Jessie got back into bed and 
turned off the light. 

She lay in the soft darkness for quite a while before sleep overcame her, 
thoughts of Milton King and the bank whirling busily through her mind. 

Chapter Iii 

Wayne Evans sat across the desk from Milton King in the quiet of the 
after-banking-hours closing time and watched the bank's executive 
vice-president scan a column of figures in connection with the Acme Printing 
Company's application for an industrial loan. Wayne's presence was a part of 
the additional apprenticeship he was serving prior to being appointed a 
branch manager, and she was the first to admit that he had learned a great 
deal from these after-hours conclaves in which he had had the opportunity to 
benefit from observation of Milton King's incisive, sharply honed business 
instincts. 

There was a double tap on the office door and Gloria Carson entered. Gloria 
was a cool-looking blonde whose brief miniskirt disclosed attractive legs. 
Wayne had always had doubts about the naturalness of the coloring of 
Gloria's bouffant hairdo, but there was no doubting the attractiveness of 
the slender legs fairly begging for masculine attention in their 
snug-fitting pantyhose. The shortness of Gloria's skirt was an offense 
against the bank's conservative dress code, but no one was telling the 
current girl friend of the executive vice-president to go home and come back 
to work dressed more appropriately. 

Milton King looked up from his worksheet as he sensed the additional 
presence. He was a handsome man whose sharply chiseled bronzed features, 
maintained even during the winter with a sunlamp, contrasted favorably with 
his graying hair. Jogging and regular exercise kept his figure trim enough 
to belie his thirty-eight years. His skin tone was such that it was the envy 
of the bank's stenographic pool. "Yes, Gloria?" he said absently, his mind 
still on the loan application. 

But Wayne's unexpected presence in the vice-presidential office had 
flustered Gloria. "Oh, I'm so-it's nothing, Mr. King," the blonde said 
hastily. "It can-it can wait until tomorrow. You're busy." 

"Yes," the gray-haired vice-president agreed. "Tomorrow, then." 

Gloria hesitated, obviously not expecting the dismissal despite her 
disclaimer, but then turned on her heel and left the office. Wayne smothered 
a smile at the blonde's discomfiture. 

His eyes followed the miniskirted hips until the closing door concealed 
them. He compared Gloria's figure mentally to Jessie's, and despite the 
blonde's obvious attractions she didn't fare well in the comparison. Wayne's 
mouth went dry as he recalled Jessie's fully displayed lust charms at the 
cabin near the farm pond in the aftermath of the skating misadventure. He 
was prepared to wager that if Jessie ever made a play for Milton King 
Gloria's current queen-of-the-office status was due for an abrupt decline. 

"The amount of this fixed assets figure," Milton King began, then paused. 

"Yes, Milt?" Wayne replied alertly. The vice-president insisted upon the 
common touch. At work and even at office parties he was Milt and his wife 
was Dolly. 

"I seem to recall that it differs from the amount shown on the preliminary 
application," the gray-haired man said. He swiveled in his chair and opened 
a drawer in a file behind his desk. He ticked off several file folders 
rapidly, then leaned back in his chair, frowning. "That's right, I don't 
have it here. It's in a briefcase at home with the Cartwright application 
due to the interlocking directorships." 

He hesitated, considering, then made up his mind. "I hate to prolong your 
day this way, Wayne, but we should really check out this apparent 
discrepancy. If I'm right about it, and I believe I am, we want to know it 
before we present this application to the directors. You'd better catch a 
cab and run out to my house, Wayne, and bring my briefcase back with you. 
Dolly will find it for you. Once we have that preliminary application for 
comparison purposes, we should be able to wrap this up rather quickly." 

Wayne rose from his chair. "Certainly, Milt," he said. 

"You may have a bit of trouble catching a cab at this hour," the 
vice-president continued, "but I'll have the rest of these figures analyzed 
by the time you get back." 

Wayne left the office and went out back to the parking lot. He had driven to 
work that day, something he didn't always do, but he hadn't mentioned it to 
Milton King because he could now put in a petty cash voucher for the 
supposed round-trip cab ride. Bank salaries were conservative and 
opportunities to pad them, however slight, were never overlooked. 

Wayne drove rapidly to Milton King's field-stone home on the outskirts of 
town. He turned into the circular crushed stone driveway and parked near the 
white colonial-style columns framing the front door. He had to sound the 
door chimes three times before anything happened. 

The door opened suddenly then, and Wayne blinked in surprise at Dolly King 
standing there in elaborate deshabille, a lacy negligee carelessly atop what 
appeared to be equally gossamer underwear. Wayne averted his glance 
nervously. 

"Shorry," Milton King's wife said in slurred accents. "Had t' fin' something 
t' put on." She tittered like a schoolgirl. "Come in, come in." She backed 
away from the open door, teetering precariously in high-heeled rhinestoned 
bedroom slippers. 

Wayne followed her cautiously, closing the door. He had heard the office 
stories about Dolly King's drinking problem but he had always discounted 
them. "I'm here for a briefcase of Milt's, Mrs. King," he began, still 
pursuing Dolly King's somewhat erratic passage through the formal entrance 
hall into a delightfully cozy-looking sitting room. On a coffee table before 
the low-banked fire in the marbled fireplace were a half-empty box of 
chocolates and a half-empty bottle of vodka. 

"Got t' have li'l drinkie first," Dolly King said, facing about to confront 
Wayne. She swayed slightly as she spoke. "Nothing like li'l drinkie t' make 
everyone good friends, right, Wayne?" 

"I really don't have time, Mrs. King," Wayne said hurriedly. His nervousness 
was increasing. Standing before the fireplace as she was, Dolly King's 
figure was spectacularly silhouetted by the leaping flames. A short woman, 
her large bust, small waist, and wide-bottomed hips contributed to a womanly 
ensemble that increased Wayne's saliva-flow. The lacy underwear and negligee 
concealed little of the bountiful prospects beneath. 

"Call me Dolly," the plump little woman insisted. "Got t' have one li'l 
drinkie, Wayne. Hate t' drink alone." 

She wavered uncertainly to the coffee table and poured a stiff three fingers 
into an empty glass. She tottered on her high heels to a cabinet from which 
she removed another glass into which she poured another three fingers. She 
advanced upon Wayne and thrust the second glass into his unwilling hand. 
"There!" she said in triumphantly blurred accents. She went back to the 
coffee table for her own glass. "Here's t' never havin' t' drink alone," she 
proposed a toast. 

Wayne smiled uneasily and took a quick sip of the straight vodka as Dolly 
King lowered the level in her glass substantially. "I really do appreciate 
this, Mrs. Ki-Dolly," he said, "but I've got to get back to the office with 
Milt's briefcase." 

Dolly greeted this announcement by replacing her glass on the coffee table 
and once more approaching Wayne. With no warning she threw her arms around 
him and kissed him on the mouth, standing on tiptoe to accomplish it. 
Wayne's startled reflexive jerk spilled a dollop of vodka from his glass 
down Dolly's ample front. 

"Oh, I'm sorry!" Wayne blurted. 

Dolly ignored her alcoholic baptism. "Good frien's, hmmm, Wayne?" she purred 
throatily. She appeared to notice her dampened bosom for the first time. 
"Might's well get out've this rag." She unfastened a tie and stripped the 
sheer negligee from herself. Wayne's nervous eye-blink increased almost to 
tic proportions as Dolly's portly but shapely curves fairly leaped at him 
from the tenuous confines of see-through babydoll bra and panties. The 
choice of underwear would have been ridiculous in a woman Dolly's age had it 
not been for her round, childish, kewpie-doll features which made the 
underwear seem oddly appropriate. Her fluffy, natural-blonde hair framed her 
innocent-looking face. 

"Milt's briefcase," Wayne stammered. "He said-he said you'd find it." 

"Shertainly," Dolly replied with alcoholic dignity. "Inna minute." Wayne 
looked away and then looked back again at an embonpoint crested by roseate 
nipples and a deeply curved lower belly adorned with a golden fleece. "Y' 
like my new und'wear?" 

"I'm sure Milt will find it most attractive," Wayne said tactfully. "Now if 
you'll find-" 

"Never shee it," Dolly interrupted. "He never looks." She took a step 
forward-forward-half a step and half a lunge-and grabbed Wayne again. "Never 
looks." Her right hand fumbled for his zipper, found it, and drew it 
downward. 

"Mrs. King!" Wayne's soaring protestation cracked tremolo-fashion. "I mean 
Dolly!" He bent almost double trying to remove his groin from his boss' 
wife's prying fingers. The vodka glass in his hand helped to render 
ineffective his efforts to fend her off. "This is-I mean you -Mrs. King! 
Dolly!" 

Dolly's persistence placed Wayne's prick firmly in her hand after she wormed 
it out of his shorts. "Stout fella," she said approvingly, patting it with 
her free hand. She took that hand and seized Wayne's, which she transferred 
to the warm contours of her luscious bottom. "Y' like t' feel my ass?" 

Wayne's breath was caught somewhere deep in the confines of his dry throat. 
The feel of the soft, warm flesh under his palm combined with the pressure 
of Dolly's hand on his penis contributed to an erection so sudden, so hard, 
and so complete that it hurt him to move. His demoralization was furthered 
when Dolly surged up against him again, covering his mouth with wet kisses. 

"Fuck Milton," Dolly said breathily. "Got t' fuck you t' fuck Milton." She 
dropped on her knees and took Wayne's rampant rigidity inside her soft 
mouth. 

The hinges of Wayne's knees fluttered. The vodka glass fell from his lax 
grasp, bouncing unbroken on the thick Oriental rug while the remaining vodka 
darkened a patch of colorful carpeting. The sucking pull of Dolly's lips on 
his cock had Wayne in such a state he wouldn't have cared if Milton King 
appeared beside them that instant. 

He reached downward and with his hands under Dolly's armpits raised her to 
her feet despite her murmured protests at losing her mouth-grip on Wayne's 
robust prick. In a series of fierce tugs he removed Dolly's see-through 
babydoll panties and plunged his hand into the sweetmeat at her 
golden-fleeced thigh juncture. Dolly moaned softly as Wayne cupped her 
entire nest on his palm. 

Wayne had never felt so horny. He capsized his boss' wife with arm and leg 
pressure and rolled her over on her back on the lush carpeting. He dropped 
down on his knees and hurriedly applied his purplish prick-head to the 
disclosed salmon-pink cunt-slit with its dimpled entrance-hole. In a series 
of quick jabs that had Dolly's round white thighs vibrating he forced his 
way into the fleshy slot. 

Haste was still foremost in his mind despite his sex-frenzy, and he began a 
rapid fucking movement in and out of Dolly's moist cunt. She remained 
beneath him placidly for a moment before reaching up and stilling his 
body-movement with a double-handgrip upon his waist. "No!" she said loudly. 
"'S not right. You boys with th' big ones always think you have to ride the 
rails." She squirmed beneath Wayne. "Get down lower n' drag your cock over 
my clitoris." 

Wayne shifted his knees and impatiently humped his rear again. Dolly 
responded at once to the new position. Her breath whistled in teakettle 
fashion and her eyes bulged with pleasure. Wayne was surprised to feel the 
deeper penetration he achieved along with a new titillation as the roughened 
underside of his quick-plunging big prick rubbed against the bright pink bud 
of Dolly's clit. Dolly ooooh'd and ahhhhh'd and mmmmmm'd as she correlated 
the movements of her corpulent smooth belly and wide-flaring bottom with 
Wayne's prick-stabbing of her pussy whose sheath-walls grabbed ecstatically 
at the fleshy intruder. 

"Ohhhhhh!" Dolly sighed. "'S so good! But slow-it down, y'hear me? There's 
no prize-for a track record. Oooooooh! Ohh! That's-better! Ahhhhhhh! Now 
you're-getting it-in gear! Ohhh! Oooh, yesssss!" 

Despite his apprehension at what he was doing with his boss' wife, Wayne 
thought he had never before had such a hardon. Dolly's delicious female 
rotund amplitudes seemed to inspire his cock-screwing cunt-penetration. The 
chubby blonde's soft little moans and wails caused him to powerdive her 
depths ever harder. 

"Ai eeee eeee!" Dolly's voice soared. "Oooooooh, it's-wunnerful! 
It's-gorgeous! Ohhhh!" Her hands gripped his shoulders. "Oh, Jesus, I'm 
coming! AhhhhHHHHHH! OOOOOOoooooh! I'm-COMING!!" 

In a floodtide of heat himself, Wayne savaged the prick-clasping cunt 
rigorously, working up to a stage where the tingling tip of his straining 
cock announced his own imminent deluge. Heedless of Dolly's renewed effort 
to slow him down, Wayne plowed the blonde's sex-furrow until its pinkness 
turned first cerise and then maroon. He grunted furiously and bellowed 
involuntarily in Dolly's ear as a quick-heaving liquefied boilover shot 
through his fleshy linchpin and inundated its hideaway. 

Dolly stared up at the ceiling as Wayne's movements upon her slowed to a 
slight jogging motion. "Ohhhhh, Christ!" her voice rose clearly. "I needed 
that!" 

With partial recovery of his senses after the draining of his sex fury, 
Wayne's fears about the position in which he found himself redoubled. 
Suppose the woman took a notion to talk? He was about to speak when Dolly 
cut in ahead of him. 

"Don' you tell Milton I had a drink, y'hear?" she demanded. "He'd turn my 
poor butt sky-blue-pink." 

Wayne had pulled out of her although he was still on his knees in front of 
her. Her disheveled but appealing brimful nudity was still fascinating to 
him. The scarlet, slow-dripping cunt stirred a faint renewal of interest in 
his withered staff. He marveled at her remark. She was afraid he'd tell 
Milton that she'd been drinking, but she didn't have a word to say about 
their other activity. And activity there had been. Dolly's behind and 
Wayne's knees were both reddened from friction despite the soft Oriental 
carpeting. 

"Listen, I've got to get back to the bank," Wayne said hurriedly. "Where's 
his briefcase?" 

"Hall closet," Dolly mumbled. 

Wayne surged to his feet. He was surprised to find that he still had his 
clothes on; he had never felt more naked than when performing with the 
chubby blonde. He tucked in his diminished rod and sipped himself up while 
he walked into the front hall. He found the briefcase and set it on a chair. 

Dolly was struggling to regain her feet when he re-entered the sitting room. 
Wayne took her arm and assisted her. She seemed much more sober but still in 
a languid mood. He felt absurdly proud that he had been able to bring this 
mature woman to such a rousing climax, and he patted her bare seat gently. 
Dolly smiled at him mistily. "God, I needed that!" she said huskily, 
heedless of her own disheveled nudity. 

It surprised Wayne. He would have thought Milton King more than capable of 
taking care of his wife. But then the explanation came to him: his boss was 
too busy taking care of all the hot little female asses he hired at the 
bank. Wayne had always felt jealous when the door of Milton's office closed 
behind a newly hired girl of one of Milton's "instructional" talks. He had 
seen some girls emerging from such talks red-faced and wobbly kneed. He had 
often wondered how Milton dared to be so bold in a field where boldness was 
usually conspicuous by its absence, but his boss pulled few sexual punches. 

"Whyn't you drop around some evening?" Dolly suggested coyly. 

"Oh, I couldn't!" Wayne's immediate reaction was near-panic; here he wasn't 
safely away yet and the woman was already talking about the next time. 

"Never anyone here but me," Dolly continued with some of her former 
bitterness back in her voice. "You come. Any time." 

"I'll-I'll call you," Wayne improvised, sidling toward the hallway and the 
briefcase. "And-and thanks. Really." 

"He's thankin' me!" Dolly marveled. She had stooped to retrieve her 
negligee, and the whole of her ample, nakedly gleaming white buttocks 
flowered fruitily from her absurdly tiny waist as Wayne lingered for a final 
look. He had never experienced such female abundance, and he tore himself 
away with the greatest reluctance, but he just had to get the briefcase to 
the bank. "Th-thanks," he stammered again. "It was-it was great." 

"You've got a bunch to learn, Wayne," Dolly said from the other room when he 
stood with his hand on the door. She giggled, a high-pitched tinkling sound. 
"But I'd say you're a learner." Still nude, she blew him an archly girlish 
kiss. 

Wayne snatched up the briefcase, opened the door, and trotted down the walk 
and across the crushed stone to his car. 

Dolly's promise of more of the same had reheated his blood, but he couldn't 
afford to even think about it right now. 

Why, if Milton King ever learned that Wayne Evans had been fucking Dolly 
King, well- 

But Wayne's quick shiver as he started his car was at least as much 
anticipatory relish as it was fear. 

Jessie Irwin woke in the morning with her mind made up. 

She didn't feel that it was Wayne's practical urgings or Irene's cynical 
comments that had brought it about; rather, her subconscious had been 
working upon the decision for some time now, and suddenly there appeared to 
be nothing more to think about. 

She was going to make a deliberate play for Milton King in the hope of 
landing the cashier's job at the bank which had all but escaped her while 
she was acting so prissily in the face of the facts of life at the bank. It 
might be too late -Milton might already have committed himself to Gloria 
about the position-but Jessie was determined now to leave no stone unturned 
in her effort to achieve the status for which she knew she was qualified. 
She didn't like the decision at which she had arrived because it offended 
her sense of justice; after all, the job should have sought her, but since 
it hadn't, she was no longer going to be squeamish about rectifying the 
situation. 

She showered quickly, then opened a fresh box of underwear that had been a 
birthday gift from Irene. The pale blue bra-and-panty set were so wispy that 
as the panties ascended Jessie's white thighs and encased her voluminous 
curves she could see her dark pubic thatch through the thin material. With 
the bra clasped snugly over her surging bubbies, the darker nipples and 
areolas were plainly in view. Jessie surveyed the ensemble with satisfaction 
in her full-length mirror. 

She went to her closet and ran her hand along the line of hanging dresses 
thoughtfully. She took down a miniskirted little number, held it up against 
herself, then returned it to the closet. The skirt was mini enough, but the 
shirtwaist-style top was a bit too highnecked for this occasion. Jessie 
removed a light brown minidress which complemented her eye color. She folded 
the dress quickly and dropped it over her head, then took a deep breath and 
held it while she tugged it down over her flowing curves. I should really 
lose a few pounds, Jessie thought as she examined the result in her mirror. 
This is really a bit much. 

The miniskirt was both short and tight, but Jessie's newfound determination 
kept her from chickening out. Ordinarily she would have worn pantyhose with 
such a revealing outfit, but she sensed instinctively that the time for such 
displays of modesty was past. She deliberately left the top button of the 
bodice unfastened, then partly concealed the dereliction by using a jeweled 
pin as a clasp. She stared into the mirror at the upper slopes of her white 
bosom and the more-than-hinted-at deep cleavage. There, she thought with 
satisfaction. That ought to give Milton King something to think about! 

Irene had already left the apartment, and Jessie descended in the elevator 
to the street level. She took a cab instead of driving to work. A car could 
be an inconvenience at times if a man proposed to take a girl out to dinner. 
Wherever they went there was also the girl's car to be returned to 
afterward. Better to set up a situation where a taxi was an all-purpose 
instrument of transportation. 

At the office she wasted no time. She searched her Out basket until she 
found something requiring Milton King's attention, then without giving 
herself time to think marched into the bank vice-president's office. "Have 
you made up your mind yet about the cashier's position, Milton?" she asked 
as she placed the file folder on Milton's desk. 

Milton King looked up from the Bonds section of the Wall Street Journal just 
as Jessie brushed her hand casually across the folder. It fell to the floor, 
and she stooped quickly to pick it up. She wasn't quite following Irene's 
somewhat coarse advice of the previous evening, which had been "to bend down 
over the bastard's desk until your tit's in his ashtray," but when she 
straightened up the bank vice-president's eyes were still firmly centered 
upon her lush embonpoint. 

Jessie had to speak again to recapture his attention from the nubile charms 
almost openly displayed. "I asked about the cashier's position," she said 
quietly. 

"Oh, yes," Milton King said. "The cashier's position." His eyes 
instinctively took in Jessie's long-stemmed legs under the brief skirt. He 
had been seeking an opportunity to tell Jessie that she was going to be 
passed over in favor of Gloria; he opened his mouth to pass sentence 
immediately, then hesitated. Something-something, he couldn't quite put his 
finger on it; something was different about Jessica Irwin this morning. 
Milton King checked the words on the tip of his tongue; the situation would 
bear checking out. 

"I've been meaning to speak to you about that," he broke the short silence 
which had ensued between them. "But you know how difficult it is to 
establish a moment's real privacy around here. And the cashier's slot is a 
position concerning which I need to satisfy myself about the candidates' 
attitudes as well as their qualifications." He was back in stride, his 
mellifluous voice gliding easily from syllable to syllable. "I'd suggest 
that we have lunch together today. I'd been intending to suggest it anyway." 

"That will be fine," Jessie acknowledged, and left the vice-president's 
office. Her palms felt a little damp; she had never put herself in a man's 
way and asked to be screwed, which essentially was what she was doing today, 
and she still felt troubled about it. Not troubled enough, though, to change 
her mind. 

The morning passed quickly although Jessie accomplished little. Twice she 
had to make extra trips to the ladies' room as her bladder and urethral 
tract refused to contain her urine. She encountered Wayne once near the 
safety deposit boxes, and he nodded to her absently. Jessie thought to 
herself that he looked pale and preoccupied. Could it be that Wayne was 
having pangs of penitential remorse about their coupling in the shack on 
Sunday? She'd have to talk to him and get that idea out of his mind. 

During the morning, Milton King had time to change his mind several times 
about his upcoming luncheon engagement. His first reaction was to use the 
occasion simply to tell Jessie the decision had gone against her. The 
luncheon would serve to get her out of the office if she went to pieces. He 
could cope with feminine tears and hysterics-God knows he'd coped with 
enough of both in the case of his wife, Dolly- but that didn't have to mean 
he liked doing it. 

And then there'd been something-well, different was the only word that 
seemed to fit the chance he'd sensed in Jessie that morning. Why not play it 
by ear and see what happened? Or better still, force the issue, as only he 
knew how to force it, and then arrive at a clear-cut negative decision if 
Jessie continued to act as standoffish with him as she had in the past? And 
if she didn't-well, time enough to jump that fence when he came to it. 

He had never been fully enamored of giving Gloria Carson the cashier's 
position despite her on-her-back qualifications. There was a stupid streak 
in Gloria which could affect the bank's -and Milton King's-performance. 
Jessie was really much more able, of the pair, but Milton was simply 
following a longstanding practice of his never to advance anyone who wasn't 
beholden to him or to hire anyone whom he felt he couldn't control. 

Noon arrived before Jessie felt herself ready for it. A couple of the girl 
tellers had commented upon her sudden flamboyant appearance, but Jessie had 
smilingly turned it aside. If it happened, everyone would know soon enough. 
The bank's little world was too tight an empire for everyone not to know. 
That was what had deterred her from making a move for so long; she shrank 
from the personal exposure of herself. But if the game was worth the candle, 
it was necessary to play for both game and candle, and she wasn't going to 
turn back now. 

Milton King appeared beside her desk, smilingly urbane, fingering his 
graying mustache. "Lunch?" he suggested as though the idea had just popped 
into his mind. 

"Surely," Jessie said quietly, although her pulse and heartbeat accelerated. 
She set her face into casual lines as she removed her handbag from the 
bottom drawer of her desk and her high heels click-clacked across the 
grouted tile of the lobby floor. Just before they reached the street Jessie 
saw Gloria Carson staring after them, eyes narrowed and lips thinned, and 
she smiled inwardly. 

"Most luncheon places you can't hear yourself think, let alone conduct a 
serious conversation," Milton said as he opened his car door for Jessie in 
the bank parking lot. His glance appraised the smooth sweep of bare white 
thigh as Jessie's miniskirt failed to cover her considerable assets as she 
slid into the front seat on the passenger's side. Why, the goddamn girl 
doesn't even have pantyhose on, he thought to himself, and his interest 
quickened. "But I've a little place across town we can be comfortable if you 
don't mind a sandwich from the fridge." He waited with his hand on the 
opened car door. 

So there it is, Jessie thought. Go with Milton to his little hideaway and do 
something she'd always promised herself she never would do: screw someone 
she didn't care anything about. But there was the game and the candle. "I'm 
sure that will be very nice," she heard herself saying. But she didn't feel 
blase about it. The tiny pulse at the base of her throat throbbed steadily. 

"Fine," Milton said, and closed the door. What did I do to punch the right 
button with this female after I'd given up on making it with her, he thought 
as he moved around the car and got under the wheel. It just goes to show you 
that you never can tell. 

Milton's apartment was in a modest-looking building, not in the best part of 
town. He ushered Jessie aboard the self-service elevator, then led the way 
down a dimly lighted corridor to a door he opened with a flourish of the 
key. Inside, Jessie had a quick glimpse of bedroom and sitting room with 
Chinese-screened kitchenette, the furniture comfortable-looking but 
nondescript. Then Milton's two hands were reaching for hers and enfolding 
them. "I rather imagine even the martinis can wait," he said quietly, 
drawing her to him and tipping her face up toward his. In a second his lips 
were upon hers and his mustache was prickling Jessie's upper lip. 

Despite a fluttering in her stomach walls, she was glad he had taken the 
direct approach. She wouldn't have cared at all for the butter-fly-on-a-pin 
effect while being served a drink and a sandwich. Better to get it over 
with, to have it out in the open. Not that she felt anything might be 
settled on the spot even if Milton King were totally satisfied with his 
conquest. She had seen enough of his hard-eyed ruthlessness at the bank to 
know that he was perfectly capable of using her and then refusing her the 
position anyway. It was just that she had waited so long that this was the 
only gambit that remained open to her. That was the gamble. 

Milton's lips cruised hers with casual competence, a hand rising to cup her 
brassiered breast. Jessie made her mind blank to anything except the affair 
at hand, then pressed her tongue between the male lips tasting faintly of 
tobacco. At once Milton's tongue plunged between her lips, hard-thrusting 
and, yes, exciting. His palm squeezed the captured tittie, and little 
tingling tremors raced through Jessie's plump thighs. 

"Inside," he said thickly, and led her into the bedroom. He was already 
shedding jacket and tie. Jessie could see the thick bulge in his trousers as 
she unfastened the neck of her minidress. She had herself out of it by the 
time Milton King stood before her impatiently, clad only in jockey shorts 
and socks. He turned her around and filled his hands with the sleek flesh of 
her bottom as it strained the thin material of her new pale blue panties. 
Then he reached up and unfastened the clasp of her bra. 

He pushed the straps from her shoulders and the bra collapsed on her 
stomach. Milton put his arms around her, took her bare, warm breasts in his 
palms and drew her backward against himself until his groin-bulge prodded 
Jessie's pantie-clad buttock-crease. "God, you're a well-teated female!" he 
breathed. 

A bronze statue would have reacted to those kneading palms on her 
stiff-nippled breasts, Jessie told herself as additional tremors ignited 
quick response in her moist-feeling interior. Milton King was unhurried; he 
paid due tribute to each fluttering grape-nippled mound before his hands 
departed and she felt him pulling down her snug-fitting panties. She held 
her breath as she felt her gradual exposure and the masculine hands savoring 
her sweetly curved bare backside. The panties collapsed around her ankles, 
and she stepped out of them automatically. Her breath seemed caught 
somewhere deep in her throat. 

Milton picked her up suddenly and deposited her on the bed. She had one 
quick glimpse of him stripping off his shorts before he rejoined her. She 
had a flashing impression of a stout white cock with a bulging coronal ring 
before it disappeared as Milton's upper body reared up over her. He kissed 
her on the mouth again, hard, and Jessie responded feverishly. Her blood 
seemed to be bubbling in her veins. Her breasts had always been one of her 
most erogenous zones, and Milton's knowledgeable handling of them had really 
lighted her fire. 

He turned her onto her belly and played with her widesplayed handsome big 
behind, alternating nipping little pinches with stinging little palm-smacks, 
then tracing a finger along the course of Jessie's perspiration-dampened 
buttock-crease. Her bottom began to work with an independent life of its own 
under the stimulation, and the finger moved lower and caressed her pouting 
sex-slit as Jessie's breath was expelled in a long sigh and her thighs 
crawled upon the bedcover. 

The palm-smacks became harder, and so did the pinches, but not intolerably 
so. Jessie's knees clawed for leverage as the mounting heat in her soft 
globes seemed to penetrate to her molten pussy. Her cunt felt so wet she was 
afraid she was oozing already. This man really knew how to set up a girl. 
She wriggled her hot-feeling hind cheeks as the pain-stimulating little 
slaps and pinches continued. 

Milton King suddenly placed both hands beneath Jessie's smoothly curved 
belly and flipped her over on her back. She stared up at him from eyes that 
seemed three or four shades darker than he had ever noticed them to be in 
the office. "Well?" he demanded harshly. "What do you want?" 

"You know what I want," Jessie whispered tremulously. 

"Say it," he ordered. 

She didn't hesitate. "I want you to fuck me, Milton." 

She didn't even mind the triumphant-looking smile with which he bent down 
over her. 

Chapter Iv 

Jessie closed her eyes as Milton lowered his head and kissed a perfectly 
shaped breast, then did the same for its twin. His eager mouth returned to 
the first one and licked and sucked at it while Jessie felt her teat-bud 
hardening still more from the ardent attention paid it by Milton's tongue. 
Her hips wriggled slightly on the bed as desire flooded her loins, desire 
triggered by the hot mouth stimulating her soft flesh. 

She felt the mouth move downward from her lush melons as Milton's tongue 
trailed lasciviously over the round bowl of her nude stomach. She shivered 
as his head dropped lower and the tongue licked at her mound and the fringes 
of her feathery pussy-hair. Entirely without conscious thought on her part 
her bottom rose slightly from the bed, proffering more openly the delights 
Milton was tasting. 

He spread her legs, moving his mouth to the puffy hair-lined lips of her 
vagina, and Jessie's whole body quivered. Milton felt with his tongue for 
the tender flanges of her warm cunt, and Jessie moaned softly. She stared 
down between her breasts at Milton's prematurely gray head locked between 
her thighs. Could this really be happening to her? 

Milton raised his head slightly while he took his thumbs and pressed 
Jessie's pussy apart so the secret cavern opened and the bright-red inner 
flesh came into view. It was glistening and wet and secreting moisture which 
appeared high up on the sensitive flesh of her inner thighs. Milton breathed 
into her grotto, and Jessie moaned again, twisting her head from side to 
side. 

He lowered his head again and moved his mouth forward, his tongue feeling a 
way for the rest of him. He worked his mouth around her cuntal lips right 
into her soft wetness, and Jessie's thigh muscles tautened. She was unable 
to relax from the feeling of burning lust stimulated in her by the 
quick-probing tongue. 

Milton pushed his face tightly against the dampness of her pussy-slit. He 
felt her involuntarily move toward him, against his face, and his tongue 
pushed deeply into her open, eager cunt. He felt exhilarated by the pleasure 
afforded him by the sexual surrender of this girl who had always appeared so 
cool and unassailable in the office. The freshness of her body delighted him 
no less than the delectable female odor from her quivering cunt. He breathed 
her up into his nostrils while his tongue plunged inside her. 

Jessie's excited breath hissed between her half-parted lips as the scouring 
tongue of the sophisticated man whose head was between her thighs twirled 
and swirled inside her chalice. Used as she was to Irene's more delicate 
licking and sucking, the powerful thrust of Milton's hard tongue inside her 
sex-aerie was unbelievably stimulating. It felt almost like a small prick as 
it probed her mercilessly, exciting her beyond reason. 

The hard tongue located her clitoris, and Jessie's back arched until her 
silvery-white stomach was shaped like a bow. "Ahhhhhh!" she gasped as 
Milton's teeth grazed her sensitive bud. "Ohhhhhh!" Wild with pleasure, her 
hips jerked more of her loins upward into Milton's willing face. In a dim 
corner of her mind Jessie knew that even if she should suddenly change her 
mind about the purpose of her visit to this man's in-town apartment, she was 
still totally unable to change the momentum of what was happening to her. 
For the moment she was female, pure and simple. 

Milton raised his head while he widened Jessie's unresisting legs. He placed 
himself between them, and through half-closed eyes Jessie saw him massaging 
a blue-veined, massive-looking cock which jutted forth from his lower belly 
and whose bluish-red tip showed a trace of sticky-looking seminal fluid. The 
sight of the big prick, more steely-looking in its rigidity than even 
Wayne's well-furnished sexual apparatus, sent a quick tremor through Jessie. 
Dear God, was she actually going to get that enormous tool inside her? 

Milton dipped his body at the hips and placed the head of his rocklike penis 
against the softly parted lips of Jessie's wet-pink vaginal opening. He 
reached beneath her to take hold of the yieldingly soft hind cheeks of her 
body-cushions, pulling her up toward him slightly. She could feel the 
masculine hands pressing the resilient buttock-flesh apart until a finger 
found her squirming anus and probed it at the same time the lusty prick-head 
began slowly to bore into her excitedly twitching sex-channel. 

The multiple sensations ravaging her flesh with lightning bolts had Jessie 
on the qui vive with elated acquiescence. She couldn't believe it when she 
felt the spongy, rubbery tissue of her tight-clenched anus opening slowly to 
Milton's artful probing until the first joint of his finger was swallowed up 
inside. He eased more of his muscular shaft inside Jessie's perfervid 
pussy-hole while he lifted the whole of her hips toward him. He squeezed and 
massaged her nude hind cheeks while his tool moved inexorably deeper, 
penetrating her almost completely as her sheath-grabbing cunt-walls sucked 
him on and on. 

The clasping wet warmth of Jessie's quim nearly unhinged Milton's 
determination to prolong this delightful fuck. He stopped short of bumping 
Jessie's cervix with the head of his prick and rested for a moment on her 
slack thighs. Once again he forced apart her plump hind cheeks while the 
finger lodged in her asshole probed more deeply, and Jessie churned her hips 
agitatedly as twinges of pain assailed her flesh. The hip-movement 
frictioned her cunt-depths and labial lips against the brawny pole piercing 
them, and a starburst of quick-flooding emotions quaked her flesh. 
"Ooooooooh!" she moaned. In that instant she felt she could have died from 
the pleasure she was being given. 

Milton knew that she was ready, more than ready, in fact. He knew that she 
wanted nothing so much as the sensation of his greasy shaft, now quiescent 
as it crammed her pussy, plunging and plunging and plunging into her 
flesh-strained bower straining to accept it all. He began to move on her 
deliberately, but his own excitement prevailed, and in seconds his 
lust-hardened cock was pounding at her, rocking her with his sexual power. 

Jessie whimpered continually in a muted sex-whinnying as the big cock 
slashed into her depths. Her full-cheeked bottom heaved upward wildly as she 
responded to the fucking, her cunt walls slithering up over the powerful 
prick, trying to swallow the whole of it, to take it way inside her churning 
belly. Jessie's whinnying soared to a half-shriek as Milton's hands upon her 
perspiration-slick backside pulled and pushed her along his rod as he 
wished. Her voice bloomed in an excited yell as Milton grunted suddenly and 
rammed into her until she felt his balls smacking against her once-again 
exposed anus as the penetrating finger slipped away. 

Milton fucked faster and faster in and out of Jessie's clutching cunt, 
filling her whole slit. "Ohhh, God!" she stammered, nearly losing her senses 
from the almost unbearable stimulation. "Ohhh, Milton! What are-you doing? 
Ooooooooh, I've never felt-like this!" 

Milton raised himself slightly from Jessie's sweaty belly until he could 
watch his hard, round tube of solid flesh sliding out of her hair-lipped 
cunt, then gliding back in, glistening and wet and throbbing. A bright blaze 
flared in Jessie's interior, stroked by the powerful frictioning of her 
pussy by the hard-thrusting power-rod plumbing her depths. "Ohh!" she 
panted. "Ohhh, Milton! Ooooh! Ahhhhh! Ohhhhh! Dear-God!!" Her back arched 
again as her orgasmic spasm overtook her. Her yielding backside quivered and 
quaked in convulsive flurries as her sheath-walls grabbed repeatedly at the 
ravaging prick pleasuring her. "MIL-ton!" she yelped, her thighs compressing 
his body. "Ooooh, I'm-ohhhhhhh!-God, I'm coming!" Her thighs churned in a 
dance of lust. "I'm-COMING!" 

Milton had held off purposely until he was sure of her orgasm. When Jessie 
subsided limply beneath him with a softly tired little groan of pleasure, he 
attacked once more that juicily lubricated cunt inside which he was lodged. 
Jessie's strong hands held his shoulders firmly as he fucked himself off 
into her yawning chasm in a series of rocketing inundations of her already 
dripping quim. He rested upon her, breathing hard, as they both felt his 
steel-hard prick softening and shrinking inside Jessie's relaxed cunt. 

He raised himself from her finally and stared down curiously at her reeking, 
semen-spattered sex-crevice, crimsoned from its exercise. Jessie 
instinctively drew her thighs together to hide this visual examination of 
her hard-used hairy pussy, but Milton placed his hands on the soft inner 
parts of her thighs and drew them apart again until he had looked his fill. 
"You know you're a hell of a good fuck, Jessie?" he asked gravely. 

Mixed emotions bathed Jessie in a confusing melange. Cozy delight in the 
delicious lassitude her body was enjoying after Milton's masterful fucking 
of her; shame at her total abandonment instead of what she had intended to 
be a businesslike submission; feminine humiliation oddly mixed with feminine 
pride at what she knew was the perfection of her sexual parts so intently 
observed by Milton just now. But sexual satisfaction predominated; her 
entire body, all her intimate flesh, was glowing with 
aftermath-satisfaction. 

Milton straightened up on his knees. "About time for that martini, wouldn't 
you say?" he asked casually. He slipped from the bed and went into the 
sitting room, where he vanished behind the Chinese screen. Jessie heard the 
refrigerator door open. 

She raised her legs and explored her bottom with both hands. She was sure 
she showed embarrassing pinch marks. She had seen the glint in Milton's eye 
in the second before he got off the bed. He might be fixing them martinis, 
but Jessie knew he intended to fuck her again before they left the apartment 
and went back to the bank. A slow-rising tide of deep crimson blanketed 
Jessie's throat and face, because she knew she welcomed the thought. 

Milton returned from the kitchenette and handed her a chilled martini. 
"About that cashier's position, Jessie," he said in the same casual tone, 
"It's still open." His eyes were upon the fleecy damp hair curling over 
Jessie's puffed-looking pussy-lips. "As open as that handsome cunt of 
yours." His flaccid prick began to lengthen and climb slowly from where it 
rested stickily against his thigh. "Drink up," he urged her, his glance 
still on her sweaty, oily-looking lower belly. "I want some more of that." 

With mingled shame and mounting excitement, but more excitement than shame, 
Jessie knew she wanted more of it, too. 

That afternoon at the bank was one of the longest Jessie could recall. She 
was still almost totally amazed, even in retrospect, at the "fit" which 
developed between Milton King and herself in bed. She had never had such a 
satisfying experience, and from his reaction she had to feel that it had 
been something special for him, too. They never got the proposed sandwich. 
After the martini, Milton had got right back into bed with her, and that 
time had been even better that the first if that were possible. 

One reason that the afternoon dragged was that she couldn't wait to get home 
to the apartment and tell Irene about it. Oh, not all the details-she felt 
herself pinkening at the remembrance of some of their extravagant 
carryings-on. But she had no major secrets from Irene, and Jessie was 
curious to have her apartment-mate play her cynically intellectual 
rationale-searchlight upon the happening. 

But another disappointment awaited Jessie at home. Irene hadn't yet returned 
from the hospital, and Jessie paced the floor impatiently. She still 
couldn't fully credit that Irene's advice about putting her scruples behind 
her should have borne such startling fruit. Not that she had lost her 
scruples entirely, or even the majority of them; she still had an uneasy 
image of herself doing exactly what she'd always sworn she'd never do, 
employing her sex to seek her own advancement in the bank. Try as she might 
to avoid the thought, it was impossible to do so. The experience had been 
heavenly, but somehow the nagging reminder of her inglorious capitulation 
forced itself more and more into the forefront of her mind. Milton would 
think she was an easy lay. Milton would think- 

She had changed to a sheer nightgown and concealing robe when a knock at the 
door distracted her. Through the door's one-way glass porthole she made out 
the tall figure of Norm Blanchard, Irene's ex-husband. She debated not 
opening the door for a second, afraid Norm would settle in and she'd lose 
her chance for a heart-to-heart talk with Irene while her body-tingling 
experience was still fresh in her mind. She finally opened the door, though, 
thinking that Irene might have sent for Norm for some reason and would be 
put out if he weren't present when she arrived. 

"H'ya, baby," Norm said breezily to Jessie. He walked past her directly to 
the liquor cabinet and began to fix himself a drink. "Gettin' anything 
strange lately?" 

The casual question was so pertinent to her recent experience that Jessie 
stared at him suspiciously for an instant before deciding it had been an 
accident. Norm's next words confirmed her assumption. "Where's the 
storm-an'-strife?" he demanded. "She tells me to be here an' then she's not 
here. What gives?" 

"I'm sure she'll be home soon," Jessie said soothingly. 

"She'd better be," Norm grumbled. He took a swallow of his drink. "I'm a 
busy man." He grinned companionably at Jessie. "Not so busy I wouldn't have 
time for you, Jess," he said coaxingly. "You know I been hankerin' to plank 
your steak for a long time." 

"You can keep right on hankering," Jessie retorted. Norm was always trying a 
verbal approach of one kind or another, his salesman's optimism refusing to 
accept as a permanent condition the steady succession of no's Jessie gave 
him in response to his lighthearted propositions. Jessie never really took 
him seriously. How could she, really, when Norm had so recently been married 
to Irene, her best friend? 

"Ahhhhh, you must be savin' it for the Pope," Norm complained. "It's gonna 
wither up on you, baby. How d'you know the next time you present arms it 
won't go off in a cloud of dust?" 

Jessie smiled despite herself at the ludicrous image called forth by Norm's 
words. "I'm not worried," she answered lightly. 

Drink in hand, he advanced toward her casually but with a purposeful glint 
in his eye. Before she realized his intention he had slipped his free arm 
around her waist and was bending his head down, searching for her lips. 
"Stop it, Norm!" she said crossly. The hand at the end of the confining arm 
dropped to her buttocks and manipulated her silky hemispheres. "Norm!" 

"Quit fightin' it!" he said, forcing his mouth down onto hers. He pursued 
again the ample rear globes Jessie had wriggled free from his hand. "Christ, 
what an ass!" 

"Well!" a voice said icily from the sitting room doorway. They both turned 
to confront an angry-looking Irene. Neither of them had heard her key in the 
lock. "When the cat's away the mice will play, is that it?" 

"I couldn't help it, Irene!" Jessie protested breathlessly, wrenching 
herself free from the hand so obviously where it shouldn't have been. "He's 
just-he's just feeling frisky." 

Irene sniffed loudly. "What are you doing here now, Jessie?" she demanded. 
"Isn't this your evening for accounting school?" 

"Oh, my!" Jessie clapped a hand over her mouth in dismay. "Something 
happened at the office today so exciting I couldn't wait to get home and 
tell you about it, Irene, and I completely forgot about school tonight." The 
moment she said it she realized how weak it sounded. "Well, it's the truth!" 
she said defiantly. "Did you think I arranged a rendezvous with Norm?" 

Irene remained silent, and Jessie caught a quick exchange of glances between 
Irene and her ex-husband. Light began to dawn upon her. "Have you two been 
meeting here once a week on my school nights?" Jessie asked. 

"Damn right," Norm said vigorously. "Irene appreciates a stiff prick even if 
you don't." 

"Shut up!" Irene said coldly. "You've got a big mouth." 

"Now why don't you talk to me like that when I've got your cunt loaded?" 
Norm queried her with a wide grin. "You sound a little different at times 
like that, baby." He finished his drink and set down his glass. "Is the 
ballgame postponed?" 

"Oh, no," Jessie said hurriedly. "I mean it's too late for me to drive back 
into town to school, but I'll-I'll have a snack at the deli and-and leave 
you two alone." 

"That won't be necessary," Irene said haughtily. 

"You mean we're gonna do it right in front of Miss Prissypants here?" Norm 
grinned. "Man alive, that would really turn me on!" 

"I meant nothing of the kind!" Irene snapped. She stepped to one side as 
Norm advanced upon her with a gleam in his eye. "Norman Blanchard, you take 
your hands off me!" Irene wriggled like a cut worm as her ex-husband swept 
her into his arms and fused his mouth upon hers. "Norm! Will you quit?" 

But despite herself Irene felt the familiar heat creeping through her body 
at the impact of Norm's hard kiss. She felt his hands raising her dress and 
slip until her pantied rear was exposed to Jessie's curious gaze. Norm's big 
hand laved her trim buttocks as his tongue shot into her mouth while his 
lips nibbled at hers, and Irene shivered while goosebumps stood out on her 
white thighs. "Norm!" she whispered plaintively, her heart thudding madly as 
he freed her mouth temporarily. "Norm, don't!" 

Still holding her firmly, he was blithely forcing down her pink panties with 
his other hand. Irene's sleekly molded nude hind cheeks came into view, and 
Norm's hand returned from disposing of the panties to pat, fondle, and 
caress his ex-wife's bare bottom. "You ain't got the quantity, sugar," Norm 
assured her earnestly, "but you sure as hell got the quality." 

"You pull-my panties up!" Irene panted, switching her hips from side to side 
in a vain effort to avoid the palpating hand. "D'you hear me, Norm 
Blanchard? You pull them-up! Ohh!" 

The high-pitched squeal was wrung from her as Norm's hand darted from her 
soft bare globes around in front where he slipped it in between her naked 
thighs with their bronze-red tufted curls clustered at the juncture. Jessie 
stared with mingled emotions as her friend's shapely behind churned and 
vibrated in its reaction to what Norm's hand was doing in front. 

Norman unzipped himself suddenly and produced an enormous erection which 
prodded Irene's round belly. "Ooooooh!" she gasped in embarrassment. "You 
put that-away! Ohhhh!" The exclamation was wrung from her when Norm pushed 
his stiff-standing pole downward and lodged it at Jessie's thigh-juncture 
where it sprang upward again so forcibly it appeared to be lifting Irene 
onto tiptoe. 

Norm glanced at Jessie, who was still watching avidly, her feelings a 
mixture of sympathy for Irene's discomfiture and acute arousal at witnessing 
Norm's deliberate subjugation of his ex-wife. Norm picked Irene up bodily 
and stood there with his heavy-looking penis projecting strongly from his 
loins. Irene's soft buttocks were cushioned by Norm's supporting arm. "C'mon 
in an' watch the show," he invited Jessie with a sardonic smile on his 
handsome face. "No admission charge." He carried Irene into her bedroom. 

Jessie stood in the apartment's sitting room, listening to the scuffling 
sounds emerging from the bedroom. "Don't-you dare -undress me!" she heard 
Irene's muffled protest. "Oooooh! Norm! That's mean! Don't tease-me like 
that!" 

Jessie felt so warm she shed her robe as she tiptoed to the bedroom doorway. 
She stood there, half-ashamed, half-defiant, her quickened blood thudding in 
her ears. Norm had reduced Irene to bra and stockings, and Irene's slender 
nudity glistened whitely as she struggled ineffectually against her 
disrobing. Her back was to Jessie as Norm held his ex-wife across his lap, 
bottom up. Norm had removed his trousers and shorts and was rubbing Irene 
slowly back and forth over the big prick protruding upward into her belly. 

For two or three moments he kept it up, his free hand massaging Irene's twin 
hemispheres, squeezing the softly pliant mounds while his meaty penis 
prodded her underneath. Then he turned Irene onto her back, parted her legs, 
and doubled them back upon her chest. Jessie stared with a sharp pang of 
embarrassment but an additional surge of excitement at the obscenely 
revealed bottom slopes of Irene's upraised behind with her sex-triangle 
tautly exposed. 

Irene lay beneath Norm, shudders rippling through her exposed body as Norm 
dragged his beefy cock back and forth over her upturned pussy. She had 
forgotten Jessie, forgotten everything but the sensation she yearned for so 
hotly, that of the mighty prick being slowly inserted into her twitchingly 
hot cunt where it would ravage her fiercely while she loved every second of 
it. 

Norm parted the thick curls of Irene's pussy-hair with a probing finger and 
moved it gently into her soft-lipped cunt while the tip of his thumb ranged 
below and lightly tickled the rubbery tissue of Irene's anus. Irene panted 
aloud, raising her hips from the bed slightly in an attempt to get more of 
the finger inside her. The finger slithered deeper, widening her moist 
inner-walls, and the thumb probed painfully, her sexual excitement 
permitting her to endure it. 

With forefinger and thumb implanted in her orifices and Norm's hand spanning 
the distance between, Irene began rotating her hips slowly, then pressing 
down upon thumb and finger, delicious sensations enveloping her exposed 
flesh. She felt the trembling onslaught of a tiny orgasm, preliminary to the 
mighty one she knew she would have when Norm shoved his ram-roddy cock into 
her and fucked her as only he could. 

Norm lowered himself until he could trail his lips over Irene's nude 
stomach, then lowered himself again while he kissed and bit her inner thighs 
until Irene moaned with pleasure. He spread her cuntal lips with his fingers 
and darted his hard tongue into the softly hair-lined pinkness of her 
vagina. He searched out the clitoris and moved it back and forth with the 
tip of his tongue while Irene's bare hips climbed wildly and her hands 
clawed at herself. 

Norm shoved his tongue deeply inside her fresh-smelling pussy-hole, causing 
her to buck upward. Then he stopped abruptly and crawled up on top of her, 
his fleshy pole dragging over her thighs and fleecy mound. Half crazy with 
desire, Irene pulled his face down to hers and sucked at his tongue, then 
bit his lips. "Fuck me!" she said thickly. She was in almost a frenzy of 
heat. "Fuck me, Norm! Oh, please!" She grabbed for his lean-looking hairy 
buttocks and tried to pull him into her. 

Still not inserted, the prickhead dribbled secreting seminal fluid over 
Irene's straining stomach. She groaned as she felt him change position again 
and the broad, rubbery head of the huge cock touched her delicate but eager 
cunt. She tried to pull her thighs back more tightly upon her chest to 
expose more of herself to the advancing monster. "Ohhhh, Norm!" she wailed. 
"Please hurry!" 

She caught her breath sharply as she felt the pulsating cock-head parting 
her pussy-lips and sliding wetly into her cranny. Norm was doing it slowly, 
and she wanted it all; she surged upward beneath him in an effort to capture 
all of the fleshy rod inside her exhilarated cunt. Then there was the 
crammed bigness of him fully inside her, the head of his prick nudging her 
cervix hard. She ground herself against him and came almost immediately in 
sudden, jolting, wrenching explosions, her orgiastic secretions bursting out 
against him, flowing around the head of the large prick that was now 
beginning to piston in and out of her. "Ohhhh, lovely, lovely, lovely!" 
Irene sighed deeply. 

Norm paused momentarily until Irene's contracting cunt-walls throbbed to a 
halt, whereupon he began to move again. Slowly at first, in and out, until 
the sensations caused by his hard prick rubbing against her vaginal walls 
excited Irene again. She responded once more, in unison with the pistoning 
prick, her fingers digging into his buttocks, slamming up into him with all 
her might and slapping into the flesh of his hard stomach with her own. 

Jessie remained in the doorway, dry-mouthed, watching as the hammerlike 
rhythm of Norm's fucking projected his glistening pole between the pink 
flanges of Irene's cloister. The hair-lined tightness of the soft protective 
folds of flesh around her cunt were drawn back by each outstroke and then 
immediately pushed in again. Jessie stood and wished desperately for the 
feel of Milton King's big cock as she had experienced it that afternoon. Her 
pussy was a yearning cavern of hot desire. 

Mesmerized, she watched the plunging prick sinking wet and deep into the 
tight-clasping lips. Beneath Norm, Irene yelped and squealed and squeaked as 
the stalwart rod impaled her solidly. Norm raised his head and began a 
flurry of short quick strokes. "Wait!" Irene cried, sensing his approaching 
orgasm. "Wait for me!" 

The quick-trembling contractions of her sheath-walls began again as Norm 
growled in her ear and slammed maniacally into her. "Ohhh, God!" Irene 
shrieked. She moaned lengthily as the cock embedded in her, still hard as 
ever, jetted thick, warm juice into her yeasty depths. Her bottom writhed in 
ecstasy as the dual orgasm wrenched them together. "Ohh, Norm! You're-doing 
it! Ohhhhhhhh! What a gorgeous-fuck! Ahhhhhhhh! You're making me -come! 
Aieeee! There it-is! I'm-oooh!- coming! Norm! I'm-COMING! OHHHhhhh!!" 

Her voice subsided as her trembling legs relaxed. Irene rubbed Norm's back 
and fingered his hair. She eased her thighs which had been cramped for so 
long but in such a good cause. Eyes closed, she savored the depths of every 
minute sensation, her belly filled with the warm wet tribute of Norm's 
discharge. He started to withdraw from her, and she opened her eyes. His 
prick slipped moistly from her clinging cunt with a sucking sound, and he 
raised himself slightly and placed it on her stomach where it drizzled on 
her. He lay on top of it, on top of her, then moved his hands under her head 
and kissed her lazily. "You're not a bad fuck for an amateur, old lady," he 
told her with a smile. 

Irene pulled his ears, then turned her head and discovered Jessie still 
lingering in the doorway. For an instant Irene felt nothing, immersed as she 
was in the aftermath of a most satisfactory screwing, but then she felt 
first a tinge of alarm and then annoyance. She hadn't intended that the 
situation should get so far out of hand. She had few if any secrets from 
Jessie, but she certainly hadn't intended to afford her the spectacle of 
herself being openly fucked by her ex-husband. 

Norm rolled off her with a grunt and turned in Jessie's direction. "Well, y' 
see how it's done, cutie pie? Jus' put it in overdrive an' let it go." He 
glanced at Irene, who had rolled protectively onto her stomach, and again at 
Jessie. He raised his limp-looking cock, shiny with his and Irene's combined 
spend, and waved it at Jessie. "Y' want a taste?" 

Jessie's tongue moistened her dry lips. I should get out of here, she told 
herself, but she was afraid her trembling legs would refuse to support her. 
The sight of Norm fucking Irene had aroused her to fever pitch. She knew 
that the crotch of her panties was wet. 

Norm glanced calculatingly at Irene, whose stomach-down position was 
designed to conceal her bronze-haired wet pussy. "C'mon," he said coaxingly 
to Jessie. "I'll dip my wick in your candleholder. You'll love it." 

He looked again at Irene, sensed suddenly that she wasn't going to object, 
and slid from the bed to advance purposefully upon Jessie, who turned to 
flee. Norm pursued her into the sitting room, where he captured her with a 
triumphant shout and carried her back into the bedroom. "Stop it!" Jessie 
squalled, kicking and struggling. "What do you think-you're doing?" She 
kicked unavailingly as Norm's hand slid up under her gown and fondled her 
damp crotch. "Norm!" 

"Wet as Noah's ark," Norm informed the watching Irene. He turned back 
Jessie's gown and examined the damp hairs on her crotch. In unbridled 
license he ripped her gown away while Jessie whirled frantically onto her 
stomach. Norm slapped her wide-bottomed exposure gloatingly. "Jesus H. 
Christ, the ass of all the world!" he exclaimed jubilantly. "If I was you, 
Irene, I'd eat breakfast off that every mornin'!" 

Irene smiled tolerantly, apparently heedless of Jessie's struggles. "Stop 
him. Irene!" Jessie panted. "He's-oooh!-stop him!" 

Confident now that Irene wasn't going to intervene, Norm prepared elatedly 
to exploit his good fortune. He tumbled Jessie onto her back and 
highspiritedly moved in between her frantically writhing long legs. "Come to 
papa, baby!" he said debonairly, running his palm over Jessie's 
silken-thatched crotch. "Let's give this little mousetrap a real workout!" 
he continued gleefully. 

A betraying hot spasm wrenched Jessie's interior at the feel of the 
masculine hand on her sex-crypt. She should bite and kick and scratch, she 
told herself, but Norm's forefinger had entered her grotto and was briskly 
frigging it. "Irene!" Jessie wailed despairingly. Irene was her last hope 
with her own flesh betraying her, but for reasons of her own Irene remained 
silent, watching almost dispassionately as her ex-husband lovingly played 
with her best friend's sprawled, ample nudity. 

Jessie flinched at the sudden touch of Norm's re-aroused big cock against 
her bare thigh. Her breath whistled in her throat as the cock pressed 
lightly against the pussylips moistened by Norm's expert frigging. 
"Ohhhhhhhhhhh!" she moaned, her face scarlet from the intensity of her 
shamed excitement. "Oooooh, my!" she whimpered as the hard rod pushed its 
way inside her and began to lunge forward into her bower-depths. 
"Oooooooooh!" 

Irene watched soberly as Norm's lengthy pole disappeared inside Jessie's 
mossy furrow. When Norm made his first tentative move toward Jessie, 
expecting her to interfere, she had made up her mind not to come to Jessie's 
aid. She still felt a bit piqued at Jessie's avidly greedy observation of 
her own sex-involvement, and she felt this was the quickest way of restoring 
their domestic situation to its former harmonious balance. 

She cleared her throat and spoke softly. "Give her a good one, Norm," she 
said. 

"You'd better believe it," Norm rasped as his hips began a quick pistoning 
movement that rolled Jessie's eyes back in her head as her quivering cunt 
absorbed the initial fiery strokes of a thunderous poking. 

Chapter V 

Norm wasted little time. 

He picked Jessie up with surprising strength and sat her down on his crotch 
with her thighs straddling his own hairy ones. Jessie shivered as she felt 
his renewed erection prodding her sex-slit along its entire length, rubbing 
against it in a tantalizing manner. 

Norm seized her waist, elevating her until the big cock, freed of Jessie's 
weight, rose until its rubbery purplish head probed at her cunt-hole. He 
lowered her carefully while the rigid prick pierced her slot and gradually 
filled her belly until Jessie was sitting astride Norm's thighs again with 
the whole of his erection contained within her flaming cunt. She had never 
felt so filled, even with Milton. 

She couldn't restrain the passionate shudders quaking her soft flesh. The 
tiniest movement magnified tremendously the feel of the huge pole tickling 
the most minute crevices inside her tingling pussy. Jessie leaned forward 
until her large breasts were dangling above Norm's face. He nipped at them 
immediately with sharp teeth whose bite she found painful but exhilarating. 
He sucked on her nipples while she nearly went wild. 

Her new position elevated and widened her white buttocks until she felt 
embarrassingly exposed. With her thighs outside Norm's, her hind cheeks were 
spread so widely she could feel the cooler air of the bedroom on 
perspiration-dampened inner surfaces. Irene curled up on the bed in a 
foetus-like position, her hands clasping her knees, her eyes glued to 
Jessie's buttock-crevice now exposed to show her brown anal orifice and 
wisps of dark hair in the depths of her split. A slow shiver ran through 
Irene as she stared at the root of Norm's cock standing stiffly as its shaft 
disappeared from view inside Jessie's stretched vaginal membrane. 

Norm deliberately folded his hands behind his head when Jessie raised 
herself slightly to remove her free-swinging breasts from within reach of 
his mouth. "Go ahead, baby," he urged her with a coarse laugh. "You're in 
the saddle. Fuck yourself to death. You've got more cock in you now than you 
thought there was in the world." 

Jessie was so hot even the masculine taunts failed to turn her off. She 
lifted herself up on the sustaining prick, then slowly slid down its length. 
She did it again and again, eyes closed as she reveled in the tactile 
sensations assailing her crammed pussy. Norm's expression gradually changed 
as Jessie continued her slow, graceful movements. The corners of his mouth 
tensed as her tight cunt-walls compressed the long cylinder of his cock. 
After every third or fourth descent of the slippery pole Jessie would 
contract her vaginal muscles until her cunt grabbed at the invading prick, 
and Norm's thighs tensed. 

Jessie rested for a moment with the big wedge inside her and Norm's hairy 
balls caressing her tender inner flesh. Then with an agility that surprised 
herself she began to move her cunt rapidly up and down the length of Norm's 
long, solid shaft. Her breasts danced wildly as she levered herself up and 
down in a semi-delirium of delight, the newfound pleasure permeating the 
very core of her being. 

But impatience gripped her to complete the slow stirring she felt in her 
inner juices. She reached down and took hold of Norm's hands, removing them 
from their clasped position behind his head and settling them upon her 
waist. Immediately they gripped her there, strongly, rising and falling as 
they assisted with her rising and falling movement on the hot spear plunged 
into her. Jessie's riding style became more frenzied, and her upturned nude 
hind cheeks gyrated madly until she came suddenly in a stomach-contracting, 
wrenching inner explosion that inundated Norm's cock-head in wet warmth. 
Jessie's movements slowly died away to little quivering grabs of her 
satiated cunt at the beefy intruder still present. 

Norm tensed his muscles, dug his heels into the bed, and in quick movement 
flipped Jessie over until their positions were reversed. Jessie squeaked in 
surprise as he accomplished it without dislodging her deeply rooted 
passenger. Norm reached beneath Jessie and seized her ass-cheeks roughly 
digging his fingers into their sleek surfaces as he began to fuck her 
earnestly from on top, the hot-feeling, hard cock trapped within her 
frictioning her until her legs climbed involuntarily and her thighs curled 
over Norm's hardworking back. 

Norm plunged upon her furiously, grinding inward until their body hairs 
rasped. Jessie's flesh suddenly ignited again, and she strained him to her 
as the savage prick fucked her deliciously. She met his every slamming 
movement with enthusiastic relish of her own, thrusting upward with her hips 
to encase to the very root the hard-pistoning cock, sucking it inside her 
when he ground deeply. 

Then her back stiffened as it was there for her again and her heels shot 
ceilingward. "Norm!" she squealed. "Ohhhhhh, Norm! I'm-oooooh! -coming 
again! Aieeeeeee! Ohhh ... God ... that... feels ... good!" She continued to 
pump her ass frantically until she felt his quick-flurried convulsion atop 
her, and for a single lovely moment they were one and frenzied with each 
other. The pounding and plunging ceased as Norm spewed his sperm into 
Jessie's straining chasm, and she lay back on the bed with an 
all-encompassing feeling of warmth spreading through her. 

Irene was already moving when Norm slid off Jessie's pink-stained belly with 
a satisfied grunt. Quickly she swung a leg over Jessie's prostrate figure 
and straddled her with her head at Jessie's middle. Irene lowered her head 
and licked delicately at the reddened, oozing lips of Jessie's 
well-used-looking, slack-lipped pussy, then plunged her whole mouth down 
upon it, tonguing and sucking. Jessie's legs rose from the bed again to 
elevate her quim for the probing mouth as she reached upward and pulled 
Irene's delicately-shaped bare behind down over her own face. Jessie 
immediately began to suck at Irene's bronze-haired twat pressed down upon 
Jessie's mouth. 

Norm Blanchard sat on the edge of the bed and watched the quick-darting 
tongues at work upon the soft female orifices. "Jesus!" he said softly. 
"Jesus, Jesus, Jesus." He shook his head wonderingly as he studied his 
ex-wife and her best girl friend as both tongued his leavings from each 
other's bright-flowering quims. "Let the world come to an end right now." 

He moved closer to the beautifully fleshy female tangle on the bed and 
gently patted in turn each bare behind as Jessie's upthrust legs made hers 
almost as accessible as Irene's fully exposed nude hindquarters. 

Engrossed in their mutually enjoyable occupation, neither girl appeared to 
feel the masculine hand upon her tender rump, and Norm sat back again to 
feast his eyes upon the Byzantine two-backed-beast cavorting sensually upon 
the bed. 

Blanchard, he said to himself, you never had it so good. 

Wayne Evans ran up the last few steps to his tiny, second-floor apartment 
when he heard the telephone ringing inside. His key opened the door and he 
darted inside without closing it as he picked up the phone receiver from the 
hall table. "Yes?" he said, breathing hard from his sprint. 

"Oh, I'm so glad I caught you, Wayne," an unfamiliar female voice said. "I 
was afraid I'd missed you." 

"Yes?" Wayne said again cautiously. He couldn't recognize his caller's voice 
at all. Jessie? No, it certainly wasn't Jessie calling him, although he 
wished it was. Then who-? 

"This is Dolly King, Wayne." He took a quick breath. Dolly King! He listened 
half-apprehensively, half-intriguedly to her birdlike sound. "Milton is 
working in town tonight, Wayne," his boss' wife continued. "Why don't you 
come out to the house for a while?" 

Wayne's immediate impulse was to bang up the receiver, but you could hardly 
do that to your boss' wife, could you? Dolly sounded sober, too, in contrast 
to the other evening. And it was flattering that she wanted to see him 
again, but still- 

"Are you afraid of me, Wayne?" Dolly's soft query nudged at his silence. 

"I'm not afraid of you," he gulped, "but I'm sure as hell afraid of what 
might happen if-if he caught us." He couldn't even bring himself to mention 
Milton's name. 

"I'm the one who should be afraid of that, Wayne, but I still want you to 
come." The soft voice burned in his ear. "We'd really have fun Can't you 
think of some games you'd like to play?" The insinuating voice was affecting 
Wayne so that he could feel his cock stiffening inside his trousers. "Some 
lovely, lovely games?" 

"Where is Milton tonight?" Wayne demanded with a sudden surge of courage. 

Dolly's soft voice hardened in anger. "Tonight is his night with one of his 
little pullets from the bank at his place in town," she said. "We'll be 
undisturbed." The last was said in such an insinuating tone that Wayne felt 
the short hair prickling on his arms. 

"I'll-I'll be right out," he made up his mind. 

"You won't be sorry, Wayne," the insinuating voice promised, and goose bumps 
prickled his flesh. "You won't be a bit sorry. I'll be expecting you. Use 
the side door." 

The connection was gone, and Wayne replaced the receiver slowly. Did he 
really dare? If Milton ever found out-but the thought of Dolly's 
tiny-waisted, large-bosomed, wide-hipped attractions was irresistible. Wayne 
drew a deep breath, left the apartment, clattered down the stairs to the 
street, and got into his car. 

During the drive to Milton's spaciously attractive home. Wayne had a hardon 
all the way. Still cautious, he parked a block away and walked to the house, 
not using the crushed stone driveway or fieldstone walk but crossing the 
wide lawn under cover of its tall elm trees. The side door was an inch ajar, 
and Wayne slipped inside without knocking. 

Dolly's delicate perfume immediately assailed his nostrils, and then she was 
enfolding him in her soft arms. "I'm so pleased you could come, dear," she 
whispered in his ear after kissing him gently. "You're really a dear boy." 

He was relieved to find her as sober as she had sounded on the telephone. 
She led him inside to the library, which was the first room leading off the 
side-door entrance. Dolly turned around with her face turned up, mutely 
begging for a return kiss, and Wayne responded ardently, thrilled by the 
abundance of female flesh tightly clasped within his arms. 

Dolly reached down slowly and fondled the bulge she could feel against her 
thigh through Wayne's trousers. He felt as if he would burst at her 
caressing touch. Dolly was in a pale yellow negligee, and he could feel that 
she had little if anything on beneath it. Her soft lips nibbled at Wayne's 
while her hand continued to cherish and cuddle his protruding erection. 

Growing bolder, she unzipped him and plunged her hand inside. Quickly she 
freed the straining prisoner from his shorts and brought it out into the 
open. She stared down for an instant at the red-eyed, blunt-headed, 
blue-veined thick rod in her hand, then dropped to her knees and ran her 
lips lovingly along its rigid length. Wayne's toes curled inside his shoes 
and for a desperate instant he was afraid he was going to shoot his load 
right then and there, but he forced himself to relax while Dolly's warm 
mouth loved his fit-to-bursting cock. 

"It's beautiful," Dolly whispered, backing away at last. She reached down 
and untied Wayne's shoes, taking each off in turn as he lifted his feet. 
Still on her knees, she unbelted and lowered his trousers and tugged down 
his shorts. She turned him around while he was stepping out of them and 
pressed a warm kiss upon each of his lean buttocks. Wayne felt both 
embarrassed and proud. 

Dolly neatly folded each of Wayne's items of clothing as he removed them, 
placing them on a leather-covered chaise longue. She twisted herself gently 
out of Wayne's arms as, naked, he reached for her again. "Let's go 
upstairs," she proposed. "I want you to fuck me right on my own bed." 

The sound of the word from the soft lips exited Wayne still more. Obediently 
he padded after Dolly's negligeed figure to the front of the house and 
followed her up the carpeted stairs, feasting his eyes upon her 
sleek-looking hips moving attractively under the thin stuff of her negligee. 
In the bedroom she turned around and confronted him, a haze of lascivious 
longing in her eyes. "Do whatever you want, Wayne," she said huskily, "but 
please don't wait too long before you fuck me. I'm starved for it." 

Wayne's hands were trembling as he unfastened the neck-tie of the negligee. 
He stripped it from Dolly's softly rounded shoulders and found that she was 
indeed nude beneath it. He cast the negligee aside and caught her to him, 
her ruby-tipped big breasts folding into his chest and her plumply rounded 
belly rubbing against his own increasing excitement. "I want to fuck you 
first of all," he said thickly, groping at her blonde-maned thigh-juncture 
and slipping a finger into her pink-lipped slit. Dolly shuddered violently 
and backed toward the bed, drawing Wayne with her. 

She sat down on the edge of the bed, and Wayne at once tipped her onto her 
smooth-ivory back. Dolly placidly accepted his widespread disposition of her 
fleshy thighs and plump calves as he crawled in between her parted legs. The 
blonde fleece of her pubic-thatch covered without concealing the salmon-pink 
long fissure turned up for his avid inspection. He rubbed a finger along its 
length, then leaned forward and did the same with his prick while Dolly's 
perfumed sighs sounded in the bedroom. 

He was too aroused for foreplay. He parted Dolly's pouting pink lips with 
his thumbs and presented his palpating prick-head to the reddened inner 
flesh, already moist. His balls felt as if they would burst. He leaned 
forward and thrust with his hips as his teeming erection inched forward into 
his boss' wife's hotbox. He advanced with a series of jerks that had Dolly's 
breath hissing wildly before he bumped bellies with her again when he had 
her stuffed to the hilt of his thick lance. 

Wayne had just taken his first soul-satisfying deep plunge into the 
deliciously clasping proffered cunt when they both heard the sound of the 
front door slamming on the floor below. "Dolly!" Milton King's voice was 
raised immediately. "Dolly! Where the hell are you!" Frozen in an obscene 
coupling, Wayne and Dolly listened to pounding feet on the stairs. 

Wayne's hard erection shriveled instantaneously. He pulled out of Dolly with 
a convulsive jerk and faced the open doorway, panic-stricken, his heart 
pounding. "Get into the closet!" Dolly hissed at him, pushing him off the 
bed. "Hide!" 

Wayne stumbled toward the indicated closet, jerked the door open, and 
half-fell inside. Dolly's hanging dresses tickled his bare flesh into a 
near-laugh of hysteria which he barely gulped down. Before he could close 
the door completely he heard the sound of his boss entering the bedroom. 

"Well!" he heard Milton's voice rap. "What the hell are you doing lolling 
around bareass?" 

"N-nothing," Dolly faltered. 

"Nothing? What the hell do you mean, nothing?" The closet door was open 
sufficiently for Wayne to see Milton King standing beside the bed on which 
his wife was sprawled in nude abandon. Milton's hand shot downward and 
fumbled at his wife's blonde body-fleece. "Nothing?" he repeated, his voice 
rising. "Then what are you doing with a wet deck if you've been doing 
nothing?" 

"It's because-I mean-well, it's because-" Dolly's voice stumbled as she 
searched for a rationale, "-well, if you must know I was playing with myself 
because I never get anything from you nowadays!" Honest indignation lent her 
tone verisimilitude, and in the closet Wayne breathed more easily. 

"I ought to take my belt to you!" Milton said between his teeth. Then his 
voice changed. "Not getting anything from me nowadays, humm? Well, get your 
ass up from there and we'll see what we can do about that." 

Dolly crouched on the bed fearfully, the tip of her pink tongue circling her 
dry lips. "What -what are you going to do, Milton?" she asked timidly. 

"Give you a little something," he said savagely, unbuckling and unzipping 
his trousers and taking them off. "Get your big bare ass over the end of the 
bed." 

"Ooooo, no!" Dolly wailed. "Not like that, Milton! Please, not like that!" 

"Shut up and do what I say!" he commanded. He stripped except for his 
undershirt, and Wayne stared in disbelief at the erective large penis he had 
never known his boss possessed. Dolly shuffled herself off the bed, moaning 
softly. Meekly she went to the foot of the bed, carrying a pillow with her. 
She draped the pillow on its long axis over the bed's end, then doubled 
herself up over it with her face on the bed and her dazzlingly white-fleshed 
broad-beamed buttocks plumped out firmly. 

Wayne stared as Milton went to the boudoir table and picked up a jar. He 
approached his wife, dipped his fingers into the jar again, spread Dolly's 
resiliency pliant hind cheeks, and began slathering lubricant in her buttock 
crevice. Dolly was moaning again when the wide-eyed Wayne realized suddenly 
that it was his wife's anus that Milton King was lubricating. 

"Noooooo!" Dolly pleaded as a finger forced a painful entry inside her tight 
asshole and spread lubricant. "You know how it h-hurts me, Milton!" 

"Shut up!" he snapped. "And don't move your ass while I'm buggering it until 
I tell you to move it!" 

He recapped the jar and tossed it onto the bed, then moved in behind Dolly. 
Wayne knew he should be tiptoeing to the door while Milton's back was 
three-quarters turned, but sheer fascinated curiosity had him riveted to the 
spot. Milton gripped the cheeks of his wife's croup and spread them widely. 
Dolly gasped aloud as she felt the head of the big cock nudge against her 
deep furrow. The gasp turned to a muted "Ouch!" as her husband forcibly 
directed his prick-head against her anus. 

Milton's thighs stiffened as he drove into his wife's asshole, and Dolly 
cried out in pain. Her wide-parted legs dangled limply as her stomach 
supported her entire weight, leaving her unguarded pink rosebud at the mercy 
of her ravager. Standing between her legs, Milton sought for a prick-hold in 
the constricted arena while Dolly bawled her distress aloud. 

Her whole body trembled as her husband inexorably jammed his big cock into 
her lubricated anus. Push by push he shoved it in farther, plunging its 
burning tip into the tight little hole. Deeper, deeper, he drove his prick 
in until it was halfway up her mercilessly distended asshole. Dolly shrieked 
as Milton plunged harder, set on fire by the feel of her contracted mucous 
artery constricting his turgid cock. 

Tremendously excited by the feel of his prick up his wife's ass, and 
stimulated still more by her pitiful yells, Milton slammed his cock all the 
way in, all the way up that narrow writhing passage. He could feel the hard 
hotness of his penis burrowing into the softer hotness of Dolly's excrement. 
He rested a moment, his heavy, hairy balls jammed tightly against her 
distended ass. 

Dolly's outcries had ceased, but her breathing was raspingly spasmodic. 
Milton drew himself backward, pulling his randy tool halfway out of her 
slowly gyrating ass. "Lie still!" he warned. 

Dolly at once became motionless. Milton drew his cock out still further 
until only its tip was concealed. He looked down at the long, blood-gorged 
tool spearing the tender white flesh. Then he arched himself over Dolly with 
his hands on her waist and began to rhythmically fuck her asshole. With 
maniacal force he pumped his penis in and out, in and out, pushing, shoving, 
and grinding it into Dolly's buttery-feeling rectum. 

Standing in the closet, trying to make himself steal from the bedroom Wayne 
noticed at once that Dolly's reaction to the steely rod deep in her bowels 
was entirely different. All tension had left her and her flaccid thighs and 
large alabaster-white springy nude backside, only partly concealed by 
Milton's hard-plunging hips, jiggled gently from the force of his fucking of 
her rectum. 

Milton felt the tight-clasping sphincter begin to draw his sperm from his 
balls, and he redoubled his efforts. His cock began to jerk inside Dolly, 
and he came up on his toes, his legs stiff as he experienced all the jetting 
sweetness and half-pain of a tremendous orgasm. The hot thick liquid jet of 
sperm streamed out of his trembling prick, soaking the innermost part of 
Dolly's bowels. A long tremor went through him, and he rested on top of her. 

But Wayne saw at once that Dolly was moving. Her big behind was thrust 
upward and backward as much as she could manage in an effort to further 
engulf the diminishing prick still lodged in her asshole. Strange little 
cooing sounds issued from her lips, and the pillow moved back and forth on 
the bedstead from her stomach's frictioning of it. Milton straightened up 
suddenly and pulled his limp cock out of her. It emerged with a popping 
sound. Milton slapped a bare hind cheek in friendly fashion as Dolly began 
to straighten up with an effort. 

"Did you come?" Milton asked her. 

"You know I can't come like that," Dolly said, not complaining but stating a 
fact. "I just wish you wouldn't get so mad when you decide to do it to me 
like that, Milton. You scare me." 

"A little scare is good for any female," he said airily. "That and an 
occasional well-welted ass. Like you've had a couple of times when I got 
tired of your eternal nipping at the bottle. You don't feel so much like 
drinking after one of those sessions, do you?" 

"No, Milton," she said meekly. 

"Okay. Come on and finish your job. Suck me off." Dolly hesitated, and 
Milton stared at her impatiently. "Come on. You know you like the taste of 
your own shit. Suck this little jobbie up and I'll make you come till you 
think you're standing on your head." 

Dolly knelt down in front of him reluctantly, but with no further ado took 
his shriveled, brownish penis in her mouth. Wayne watched avidly until he 
saw that she actually was sucking it, cleaning it completely with her 
tongue, lips, and mouth. He could hardly believe what he was seeing, but one 
overwhelming emotion possessed him now: he had to get out of that house. 

Milton's back was almost toward the closet. Wayne dared wait no longer in 
case his boss changed position. He tiptoed from the closet and headed for 
the door. Dolly saw him and flinched, embarrassed to tears by his 
observation of her humiliating position, but Milton thought her startled 
jerk a natural reaction to the hardening of his cock in her soft mouth. "Get 
up on the bed and I'll give your fat cunt a good stabbing," Wayne heard 
Milton say as Wayne fled down the hallway and the carpeted stairway. He 
rushed through the deserted ground floor to the library and his clothing. He 
didn't bother with underwear; he pulled on pants, shirt, and shoes, and 
carrying the rest, moved to the side door. He let himself out into the 
night, fragrantly cool after the steamy atmosphere of Dolly's bedroom, and 
headed across the lawn to his car parked a block away. 

Smartest thing I did all day, he thought to himself, parking the car a block 
away. If Milton had come home and found it in the driveway... 

Only when he was sitting under the wheel did he begin to relax. He sat with 
his hands on the wheel, thinking over what he had seen. Despite Dolly's 
initial distress, it was obvious it wasn't the first time her asshole had 
been ravished by her husband's long cock. And that business of liking to 
taste her own shit on Milton's prick- wasn't that fantastic? And she was 
certainly a good fuck in the orthodox manner, too. 

He drove off finally, shaking his head. It had been a close call, and he had 
been lucky. There'd be no more of that. He had too much to lose. He could 
hardly expect to be that lucky again. At the apartment he undressed and 
showered, opened the refrigerator, and took out a can of beer. He was just 
about to pull the ring-seal when his telephone rang. He detoured to the 
hallway and picked up his phone. "Yes?" he said. 

"I thought I'd catch you there," Dolly's voice said. "Why don't you come 
back?" 

"You're out of your mind," Wayne said, amazed to hear her voice as much as 
her suggestion. "Is-is Milton-ah-finished?" 

"For two months, probably," Dolly said bitterly. "That's why I want you to 
come back. I only came once with him, and I've got about fifty stored up." 

"No," Wayne said flatly. "It's too risky." 

"He's gone back to town, Wayne." 

"I don't care where he's gone. I'm still not over the shock." 

"Tomorrow night, then?" 

"No." 

Anger flared suddenly in Dolly's ordinarily soft voice. "You're not going to 
run out on me, understand? You'll come out here when I want you or I'll tell 
Milton the whole story. All I'll get out of it is a whipped ass, which I get 
from him anyway, but how about you, Mr. Chicken-Livered Man?" Her voice was 
slurred, and Wayne realized she'd had a couple of quick drinks to nerve 
herself up to talking to him after what he'd seen. 

"You wouldn't tell Milton," he said in disbelief. 

"Wouldn't I? You be out here tomorrow night or you'll find out." 

The connection went dead, and Wayne replaced the receiver slowly. Would she? 
Hardly. She might talk casually about a whipped ass, but when it came right 
down to inviting such treatment she wouldn't do it. Would she? If she was 
drinking, perhaps, and feeling especially sorry for herself? Wayne's palms 
felt damp. 

He needed advice. He needed to talk to someone. Jessie? Could he face 
Jessie's cool good looks and tell her his story? But he felt he needed a 
woman's viewpoint, a female reaction which might make clear to him the 
extent of Dolly's danger to his job. He replaced the can of beer in the 
refrigerator unopened and went downstairs to his car. 

He drove to the apartment shared by Jessie and Irene, still wondering if he 
could nerve himself up to tell Jessie the story. If he hadn't been so damn 
anxious about losing his job he knew he could never have told her. Some of 
what he'd seen was still almost unbelievable even to him. 

Irene opened the apartment door to him, and Wayne felt disappointed. He'd 
have to wait for her to leave before he could talk frankly to Jessie. "Hi, 
Irene," he greeted her. "Is Jessie in?" 

"No, but she'll be back in a few minutes," Irene said. "Won't you come in?" 

Wayne hesitated, but finally complied. With tomorrow night looming up over 
him, he had to move fast. He went into the living room and sat down. Irene, 
in housecoat and slippers, followed him. She sat down and picked up a piece 
of sewing. "How's it going, Wayne?" she asked. 

"Oh, so-so," he said cautiously. He liked Irene. Something about her 
personality-earthiness, for lack of a better word, or frankness, or 
honesty-had always appealed to him since he'd first met her through Jessie. 
"How's it going with you?" 

"Suprafragimelligorgeous." 

He raised an eyebrow. "My, my," he commented. "What's the big plus?" 

Irene smiled at him, then winked. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you." 

"I'm prepared to believe just about anything these days," Wayne sighed. 

Irene winked again. There was a boyish quality about Wayne that appealed to 
her. "You're not old enough for me to tell you." Her eyes came to rest on 
his shiny, acne-scarred face. "Wayne," she said with her usual directness, 
"why don't you have something done about your face?" 

He would have resented it from anyone else, but not from Irene. For one 
thing, she was a nurse, with a nurse's practicality. "Some day," he said 
vaguely. "Right now my mother's in a tight spot on the farm and I'm sending 
money home." 

Irene left her chair and came to Wayne's. Bending down over him, she traced 
with delicate fingertips the roughened scales of his bete noir. "It could be 
fixed, you know," she said, returning to her chair. She regarded him across 
the room. "What are you looking so disturbed about? What I said about your 
face?" 

"No," he answered. "I was-I had a shaking up tonight." 

"And wanted to talk to Jessie about it?" 

He was startled at her perspicacity. "Well, yes, if she'd listen. No reason 
she should. It's not a-not a bedtime story." He smiled wryly. "Or maybe it 
is." 

"Tell me," Irene invited. "No charge for advice given." 

Wayne wondered why he hadn't thought of it himself. It should certainly be 
easier to talk to Irene with her nursing background than to Jessie whose 
cool beauty seemed almost virginal to Wayne at times despite his remembrance 
of the Sunday afternoon at the ice-pond shack. 

"Well-" Wayne hesitated, then hitched his chair closer to Irene's. 
Stumblingly at first, then in a torrent of words, he related his initial 
embroilment with Dolly King and the events of that very evening. Irene 
listened with an amused smile playing around the corners of her attractive 
mouth. When Wayne finished, she put down her sewing and laughed heartily. 

"And now she's blackmailing you to come back?" she asked, wiping her eyes. 

"That's right," Wayne said glumly. "But if Milton ever catches me, I'm 
finished at the bank. What do I do?" 

"Counter-blackmail Milton's wife," Irene said at once. 

"Counter-?" 

"Get something on her with someone other than Milton and yourself," Irene 
said. 

"Yeah, well, but who?" 

"It could even be a woman. Dolly King sounds like a type who'd enjoy a romp 
with a female. Import the female, post yourself with a camera, and voila!" 

"I've got the camera, but I don't have the woman," Wayne said ruefully. "Do 
you know of one?" 

"Sure." 

"You do?" Wayne asked eagerly. 

Irene arched a forefinger until it pointed between her breasts. "Me." 

Wayne stared across the room at the piquant redhead in the flowered 
housecoat. 

Had he heard her correctly? 

Chapter Vi 

"You're kidding," Wayne said finally. 

"In earnest," Irene replied. "I know Dolly King. I've been with Jessie 
several times at bank parties when Dolly was there. Three or four years ago 
there was a minor scandal involving Dolly and a young bank secretary. Jessie 
said that Milton was furious." 

"But why would you get involved?" 

"Oh, I don't know," Irene shrugged. "Excitement. Something to do. And then 
your piteous story has touched the depths of my compassionate nature." She 
favored Wayne with her gamin grin. 

"I can see that it has when you make an offer like that," Wayne said dryly. 
"But don't say it if you don't mean it. I might really need to do something 
as far out as that to get the damn woman off my back." 

"Service with a smile," Irene said, stretching lazily. Her eyes were once 
more upon the acne condition marring Wayne's face. "I'll bet I could do 
something about that myself," she said, speaking her thought aloud. She rose 
and approached Wayne's chair, bending down over him to examine more closely 
his shiny-scarred blemishes. Irene had on a wraparound short housecoat, and 
as she bent over him Wayne's eyes went to the loose-fitting neckline of the 
housecoat, beneath which a great deal of Irene was visible, principally in 
the form of pink-nip-pled jutting bubbies. Wayne looked away, then looked 
back. Irene obviously hadn't a stitch on underneath. 

"Come into the bathroom and let me examine you more closely under a boudoir 
lamp," Irene said to Wayne. "Bring a chair with you from the kitchenette." 
When Wayne complied, she seated him under the light in the bathroom's 
cramped quarters and alternately ran her fingertips delicately over the 
scarified, hardened surface of his face and then tipped the face upward with 
two fingers under Wayne's chin to get more light on the subject. "Would you 
let me play witch doctor, Wayne?" Irene asked at last. 

He hesitated only momentarily. After all, she was a nurse. "Sure, if you 
think it'll do any good." 

"Then take off your shirt and undershirt," she ordered. "And drape a towel 
around your neck and shoulders." 

Wayne sat down in the chair again after obeying. Irene ran hot water in the 
basin and began soaking two smaller towels in it. "This will be hot," she 
said, standing beside Wayne's chair as she wrung a towel and deftly wrapped 
it around his head and face, leaving only his nose exposed. 

"Wow!" Wayne breathed aloud under the towel as the steamy heat assailed him. 
"You're not kidding it's hot!" His voice emerged as a mumble. 

"Sit still," Irene demanded. She waited a moment before removing the towel 
and Wayne breathed a sigh of relief. Irene immediately wrung out the second 
towel and wrapped his face again while she set the second towel to soak. For 
ten minutes she applied alternate hot towels to Wayne's face, twice adding 
more hot water to the basin. He never did get used to the first instant of 
the almost scalding application. 

"There," Irene said. "Now for a little oil massage to break up the 
congestion beneath the surface." She opened the medicine cabinet and took 
out a small bottle of a greenish-looking oily liquid. Quickly she spread 
some on both her palms, then moved behind Wayne's chair and began to massage 
his face, reddened from the hot towels. Despite the gentleness of her touch 
she was able to apply deep pressure without discomfiting Wayne seriously. 

Three times Irene renewed the oil upon her palms and expertly laved Wayne's 
acne-encrusted features. The effect was so soothing that he slumped down in 
the chair, relaxed. He heard Irene running the hot water again when the 
massaging hands once more left his face, but he didn't make the connection 
until another near-scalding towel enveloped his features. The oil seemed to 
have penetrated deeply, making his face more sensitive, and Wayne's 
anguished howl coincided with a stiffening upthrust of his legs and a 
flailing of his hands. 

His right hand caught Irene as she was bending over the basin wringing out 
another towel and disappeared beneath her hiked-up housecoat. "Wayne!" Irene 
half-shrieked as his reflexively clutching hand closed upon her nude flesh 
near the juncture of an inner thigh and lower buttock. "Take your hand away 
from there!" 

Distressed though he was by the hot towel parboiling his face, Wayne was 
still notably reluctant to remove his hand from the female oasis he had so 
inadvertently discovered. Irene had to slap his hand away. "That's enough of 
that," she said primly, changing hot towels again. "Even if it was an 
accident." 

"God, you feel good," Wayne mumbled from beneath the towel. 

Irene smiled, safe from observation as the towel covered his face. Then the 
smile died. The feel of the masculine hand had stirred her more than she 
wanted to admit. Despite her gay intimation to Wayne in response to his 
question when he first entered the apartment, things weren't as well with 
her as she had indicated. She had had a tremendous row with Norm after the 
double episode with him, herself, and Jessie. She had accused Norm of too 
much aggressiveness in forcing himself upon Jessie. 

"Goddamnit, you stage-managed the whole thing!" the angry Norm stormed. 

It was true, but perversely Irene felt the need to clear her own skirts. 
"You planned it all!" she charged. 

And the argument continued until Norm stamped out of the apartment in a 
flaming rage. And he hadn't been back. Twice Irene had been on the verge of 
calling him to see if peace could be made without lowering herself to admit 
she wanted-and needed-him, but pride had prevented her. Wayne's blindly 
groping hand had stirred banked fires. 

"That should do it for now," Irene announced after another ten minutes of 
hot towels. "Don't be alarmed if you get a slight scaling process. Two or 
three treatments a week should make a world of difference in your 
appearance." 

Wayne had risen from his chair while she was speaking to look at himself in 
the mirror. Although his face looked softer, the shine was still there. He 
refrained from mentioning his disappointment that improvement hadn't been 
immediate. "Thanks, Irene," he said, and he meant it. "It's nice of you to 
take the trouble." 

He picked up his shirt and undershirt and went out into the living room. 
Irene wiped out the basin and set things to rights in the bathroom before 
she followed him. "How's the face feel?" she inquired. 

"Hot. Burning." 

"That's because we got below that first layer of crust." 

Still naked to the waist, Wayne approached Irene. With a boldness he 
wouldn't have possessed before his recent experiences with Dolly King, he 
slipped a casual arm around Irene's housecoat-enveloped figure while he 
lowered his flushed face to hers and gave her a long, hard kiss. "Thanks, 
Irene," he said again softly, then returned his mouth to hers. At the same 
time his free hand parted the front of the housecoat and roamed lightly over 
Irene's bare belly before ascending to her perky-nippled breasts. 

"Wayne!" Irene murmured, her protestation muffled by the lips pressed to 
hers. Wayne's tongue parted her lips and surged into her mouth, and Irene's 
knees felt weak as his hand squeezed and palmed alternate breasts. "Wayne!" 
she squeaked, as his hand dropped and probed at the bright-red fleece 
adorning the juncture of her tightly clutched thighs. She tried to twist 
away, but the hand pursued her as the emboldened Wayne sought to follow up 
his initial advantage. 

Why am I fighting him? Irene asked herself. Norm is mad at me, really mad 
this time. Wayne seemed awfully young but in truth he was only two years 
younger than Irene and a year younger than Jessie. Irene caught her breath 
as Wayne's hand, frustrated at trying to part her clenched bare thighs, 
swept around behind under the housecoat and grabbed a nude, curving buttock. 
Wayne used the additional leverage to pull Irene more tightly against 
himself until she could feel the long bulge inside his trousers pressing 
against her leg. "Wayne!" she said once again, but weakly. The hand 
squeezing her naked haunch seemed to be burning itself into her soft flesh. 

The emboldened Wayne sensed her weakening resistance and acted upon it. 
Their swaying struggle had brought them near the screened-off kitchenette. 
Wayne half-carried the almost quiescent Irene to the formica-topped table, 
and before she realized his intention spun her around and pressed her down 
upon it, belly down. 

Irene recoiled but couldn't raise herself due to Wayne's hand in the small 
of her back. "Owwww!" she cried out. "That's cold!" 

The eager Wayne paid no attention. He flipped Irene's housecoat up around 
the back of her neck, then studied the long, smooth slope of her back and 
the quick flare of her hips, which no longer seemed slender somehow, even 
when compared to Jessie's lush globes. Deliberately, Wayne stroked the warm, 
glossy-feeling buttock surfaces before parting the malleable hemispheres to 
run his finger deeply along Irene's cleft. She squirmed like an eel as the 
finger tickled her sexual incision and fired her juices. She could feel her 
labial lips becoming damp as her sheath-walls released sex-moisture, and a 
hot, deep yearning stirred her vitals. "What do you think-you're doing?" she 
gasped in obligatory protest. 

Wayne unfastened his belt and let his trousers drop around his ankles. He 
removed his rampant prick from his shorts and laid it between Irene's nude 
hind cheeks. She quivered all over at the touch, which delighted him. Jessie 
and Irene always seemed so sophisticated to him that he had always been a 
bit intimidated in their presence. 

Wayne moved his hips back and forth, dragging his meaty cock along Irene's 
buttock-crevice. She had stopped struggling, and he could hear her heavy 
breathing. "Inside!" she whispered faintly. "In the bedroom!" 

But he had no intention of relinquishing his present advantage. He pushed 
his erection downward until he could pass it between Irene's parted thighs, 
through which a wispy glimpse of red-gold hair could be seen. When he 
released it, his cock jumped up and whacked the redhead lightly between her 
thighs. "Ohhhhh, no!" Irene whispered as she felt Wayne jockeying for 
position with the bulbous head of his penis pressing against her 
vaginal-hole. "Not-like this!" 

But again Wayne paid no attention. He bent his knees slightly to attain a 
better angle as he tried to slip his prickhead into the redhead's warm, 
moist slot. He lodged the head but then had difficulty advancing farther. 

"How big-is that thing of yours?" Irene demanded suddenly. She reached 
behind her swiftly and took hold of Wayne's thick-stemmed long prong. "Whew! 
Don't you dare ram me with that thing!" She came up on her toes as Wayne 
impatiently shoved against the sleek buttocks pressed against his belly. 
"Take it-easy!" 

Her breathing hoarsened as she felt the knobby cockhead thrusting into her 
labial cranny. She knew what Wayne's problem was, and she never knew whether 
her next remark was occasioned by fear of damage to herself from his 
inexpert attempts at penetration or her need to feel that deliciously hard 
penis straining her whole sex-chasm. "Pick up my ass and slide me back on 
your prick!" she heard herself saying gutturally. 

Wayne heard her even in the depths of his passion. He picked her up from the 
tabletop by her slender waist and drew her backwards toward himself. His 
large cock slid into Irene's slot so smoothly and so deeply that he couldn't 
believe it. He could feel his hairy balls dangling against her thighs. 
"Ohhhhh, man!" he breathed, and began to fuck the clinging cunt enveloping 
his turgid prick. 

Irene gasped aloud as she felt herself crammed by the hard cock distending 
her channel. She gasped again when Wayne began to move, his belly spanking 
her bare behind, and hot sparks flared in her interior. "H-harder!" she 
whimpered as a quick flame ignited from the sparks. "Harder!" Her entire 
backside writhed languorously as the big prick plunged between her hind 
cheeks. 

Irene found herself literally drooling as her saliva-filled mouth overflowed 
and spittle dribbled down her chin. The teasing cock buried in her belly was 
driving her crazy. "Ohhhhhhh!" Irene caterwauled, all reticence gone. "Fuck 
me, Wayne! Fuck me!" 

The unexpected lewdness stimulated him still more. He slammed mightily into 
the sleek haunches enveloping the treasure in which he was embedded. Irene's 
cunt-walls grabbed convulsively at the gristly intruder invading her downy 
nest, and Wayne almost shot his load prematurely at the sensation all up and 
down his sturdy whang. He had to back off a moment to relieve the pressure 
tingling in his balls. 

Irene wriggled impatiently, but her voice soared at once when Wayne resumed 
his pumping. "Ohhhh!" she squealed. "Oooooh! You're tickling 
my-ooooooh!-clit! You're-I'm- ohhhhhhhh!-I'm-gushing! Ahhhhhhhh! Ooooh! 
I'm-GUSHING!" 

Her buttocks twirled in convulsive abandon for long seconds before she 
collapsed upon the table limply, a table long since belly-warmed by her 
heated flesh. Wayne, brought to a rolling boil by her frenzied response to 
his fucking of her, groaned aloud as his prickhead trembled from the 
explosive nature of the hot jets of sperm he cascaded into Irene's quivering 
slot. His knees and thighs quaked from the expenditure of energy he had put 
into fucking the redhead. 

He stepped back finally and had one quick glimpse of Irene's parted thighs, 
greasy-looking lower bush, and crimsoned cunt-lips as his reddened cock 
emerged, dripping. Irene immediately clapped both hands behind her as she 
straightened up shakily. "Don't look!" she muttered, ashamed. "Don't look!" 
She trotted into the bathroom with her hands still clasped behind her. 

Inside, she stared into the mirror at her flushed face. Why had she 
permitted it? She didn't really care for Wayne, although he was a nice kid. 
She had had no intention of permitting it, but her traitorous flesh had 
intervened. 

She performed her necessary ablutions quickly and swathed herself in a towel 
before returning to the living room. She felt she really couldn't face 
Wayne's self-satisfied smirk at that moment, so she glanced at her watch. 
"Jessie is due here in seven minutes," she announced. "And I don't want her 
to find you here. Like this, I mean." 

"Neither do I!" Wayne blurted. He had already pulled up his pants; hurriedly 
he shuffled himself into undershirt and shirt. Ready to leave, he paused to 
look at the towel-enveloped Irene. "Thanks, Irene," he said softly. "For 
everything." 

His sincerity melted her distaste for herself. After all, she had given 
pleasure. "Come back and we'll give your face another treatment in a couple 
of days," she said impulsively. "But only your face," she added in sudden 
caution. She didn't want this to become a habit, or for Wayne to expect it. 

"Thanks," he said again from the door, and blew her a kiss. It was so 
unexpected from one of his usually phlegmatic temperament that Irene felt 
touched again. 

She stood motionless until the whine of the nearby self-service elevator 
announced Wayne's descent to the apartment lobby. She shook her head, 
absentmindedly patting her hair back into place. 

She really couldn't understand her quick succumbing to Wayne's awkward, 
inexperienced attempt upon her. She didn't much like the image it reflected 
of a female animal nearly out of sexual control. The way she'd run Wayne out 
of the apartment afterward was almost an admission that she'd used him just 
for her own satisfaction. 

Sighing, Irene set about removing the remaining traces of Wayne's presence 
before Jessie arrived. She was already late. 

Jessie picked up the pay telephone in the bank lobby to which she had been 
called by one of the guards. She wondered who could be calling her at a pay 
phone number instead of at her own office phone. "Hello?" she said 
inquiringly. 

"Hi, Jessie," a breezy voice saluted her. "This is Norm Blanchard." 

"Oh?" Jessie began questioningly, because Norm Blanchard was so divorced 
from the bank affairs which were on her mind at the moment, but then 
realization dawned. "Oh. Norm. Yes. How-how are you?" She was immediately 
furious at herself for the question. Like Irene, she had already decided 
that too much had happened in the apartment with Norm Blanchard, and was 
determined there was to be no repetition of it. 

"Great!" the salesman's voice burbled. "An' you?" 

"Busy," Jessie said, seizing the opportunity to drive a wedge between 
herself and the unpleasant familiarity she could sense in the brash voice. 

"Only durin' business hours, though," Norm said suggestively. "How about us 
gettin' together afterward?" 

"No," Jessie said coldly. 

"You don't mean no," Norm replied. His voice had become softer yet somehow 
more penetrating at the same time. It made Jessie faintly uneasy. "You're 
meetin' me tonight after work." 

"I'm doing nothing of the sort!" Yet somehow it didn't come out as 
vigorously as Jessie had intended. Somehow Norm's confident-sounding voice 
undermined her own confidence. Somehow- 

And then his tone hardened. "I'll be waitin' when you get out've work, 
y'hear, Jessie? An' you better not walk past my car if you know what's good 
for you." 

"What-what do you mean?" she asked faintly. 

"I mean you're buckin' for a job promotion at the bank, right? How d'you 
think the guy handin' out the promotions'd like to hear about what happened 
the other night?" 

"You-you wouldn't!" 

"The hell I wouldn't," he said flatly. "You get into my car when you see 
it." 

The receiver clicked in Jessie's ear and the line hummed emptily. She was 
left standing with the pay phone in her hand, her knuckles white from her 
grip upon it. She hung up the phone shakily. Would Norm Blanchard actually 
tell about what had happened among himself, Irene, and Jessie? 

He can't blackmail you, she tried to tell herself. Let him talk. This isn't 
1910. People have relationships these days. But not that kind of 
relationship, a corner of her mind told her. Not even in today's relaxed 
society. 

She left the lobby and returned to her desk, trying to think. The more she 
considered it, the more prickly the problem seemed. She wasn't terribly 
concerned, on the one hand, that Milton King would learn she had 
participated in a threesome. Milton was a sophisticated man. He might even 
think it amusing. 

But she was concerned about the timing. She didn't want Milton to know until 
she had the new cashier's position nailed down firmly. Otherwise such 
information would put her in Milton's power, for him to demand what tribute 
he chose, and given Milton's sexual subtleties, she could have more of a 
problem coping with him than the more forthright Norm Blanchard. 

No, she didn't want Milton King to know. 

And that meant obeying Norm Blanchard's stern-voiced injunction to meet him. 

But surely she could de-fang Norm Blanchard? Certainly there was nothing 
subtle about him! If she just kept cool, and smiling, and promising that 
next time, perhaps- 

She was still worrying it around in her mind at closing time. Automatically 
she checked out the tellers' cash drawers-she had been acting cashier for 
some time, a factor that increased her resentment that she should have to 
compete for a job that she was in fact already performing- with one eye on 
the bank's front window. Sure enough, Norm's sleek demonstrator pulled in to 
the curb and parked. Regarding it disquietedly, Jessie had to recall herself 
to the task at hand. 

She left the bank ten minutes later, the picture of prim banking rectitude 
as she crossed the sidewalk rapidly and slid into the passenger side of 
Norm's car as he opened the door for her. His expression was grim, but 
Jessie tried for a light touch. "Hi!" she greeted him as the car moved away 
from the curb. "You almost had me thinking you were threatening me for a 
while there today." 

"I'm not threatenin' you," Norm said heavily. "I'm tellin' you. Play it my 
way, or else." 

Jessie became aware that the car was not following the route to the 
apartment, and her stomach fluttered. "But why?" she asked plaintively. "I 
didn't do anything to you." 

"I'll tell you why." Norm's tone was as grim as his expression. "Irene's 
taken her ass out've circulation as far as I'm concerned, so I'm holdin' 
yours hostage till she changes her mind." He shot a fleeting glance at 
Jessie. "Simple, isn't it?" 

"But that's-that's outrageous-!" Jessie began hotly. 

"Outrageous, hell!" Norm cut her off, his voice blaring. "You goddamn women 
aren't makin' any beanbag out've me. Whatever happened, you both wanted it 
to happen, right?" He removed his eyes from the road and glared at Jessie, 
who dropped hers in confusion. "Right? Then don't try to shit me." 

The car had left the downtown traffic and was picking up speed. "Where are 
we going?" Jessie asked faintly. 

"To the Calabria Motel," Norm said laconically. 

The implication rocked Jessie. "You mean-?" 

Once again Norm's hard voice overrode hers. "I mean I'm takin' you to a room 
I've got there an' I'm gonna fuck your bare ass an' fat cunt all over the 
motel bed. So whaddya think of that?" He grinned at her sardonically. "An' 
you'd better believe I'm gonna enjoy it." 

"But Norm-" Jessie sought desperately for feminine wiles, then realized 
suddenly there were none that would be effective with this determined man. 
But the whole thing was ridiculous! Simply because Irene was punishing 
herself and attempting to punish Norm for a sudden excess of puritanism that 
had overtaken her- 

The car turned into a motel driveway, and Jessie caught her breath. It was 
broad daylight -suppose she were seen! But Norm wheeled the car around to 
the back and parked at a motel door hidden from the highway. "Out!" he said 
curtly. 

He was unlocking the motel door while Jessie was climbing shakily from the 
car. He shepherded her inside with a hard hand on her elbow and a fast whack 
on her seat. He locked and barred the door from the inside, then surveyed 
Jessie satisfiedly. 

"Norm-" Jessie began a plea that shriveled under his hard-eyed inspection of 
her charms. 

"Clothes off," he said to her, and started to undress himself. He looked at 
her when she made no move. "I'm assumin' you'd like to have somethin' to 
wear home? Get it off or I'll rip it off you!" 

He was already in his underwear when Jessie removed her dress with trembling 
hands. This couldn't be happening! Why, it was-it was rape! She struggled 
with her clinging slip while Norm, naked, surveyed her partly clad curves. 
When her head was enveloped in the slip, his palm cracked smartingly upon a 
pantied hind cheek. "Owww!" Jessie yelped, involuntarily rubbing the 
stinging hind cheek. 

"God, you got an ass that won't quit!" Norm said huskily. "I'm gonna take 
your pants down myself." 

Involuntarily Jessie's glance went to the hefty sausage and hairy balls 
swinging between Norm's legs as he moved closer to her. The roof of her 
mouth felt dry as Norm turned her around and pulled the snug-fitting, pale 
blue panties down, exposing her velvety hind cheeks, bare except for the 
straps of her garter belt. Norm quickly disposed of that, too, and the 
down-drooping belt slowly pulled her stockings down around her ankles. 

"Please!" Jessie whispered as Norm filled his hands with the exposed 
posterior-cushions, squeezing, kneading, compressing, and forcing them 
together. Jessie's glistening alabaster-white body curves were elastically 
malleable in Norm's hard hands, and a betraying sensation of inner warmth 
loosened the hinges of Jessie's dimpled knees. "Please!" she pleaded again. 

Norm paid no attention. He ceased playing with her nude bottom cheeks only 
long enough to unfasten and remove her bra. Jessie's large breasts with 
their dark-nippled areolas sprang to attention. Norm's hands encircled them 
momentarily, and Jessie shivered, but then his hands trailed down over the 
soft round bowl of her bare belly and dipped into her thatched fleece. 
"Oooooh!" Jessie breathed shamefacedly. 

She could feel his groin against her naked backside, but he had no erection. 
A finger on each masculine hand was pressing aside the soft flesh of her 
inner thighs and stroking the pink sex-slit. The soles of Jessie's feet 
tingled and she gasped aloud as a finger probed inside her rapidly 
moistening vagina. The finger moved upward inside her flesh and nudged her 
clitoris. Jessie's knees quivered at the quick flash of sensual relish that 
enveloped her, but she tried to fight it off. "Norm, stop it!" she 
protested, but her voice was a quavering sigh. 

He tired of the game abruptly. "Onto the bed!" he said brusquely, giving her 
a little push. Jessie sprawled on her belly, falling over quickly as she 
felt the bed sag under Norm's weight. On his knees, he stared down at her. 
Jessie sensed that he was on the verge of violence, and she felt afraid. 
"Okay," he said. "Get with it." 

Jessie looked at his substantial penis still dangling limply. "It's not-it's 
not hard," she said timidly. 

"Then get it hard!" he roared. "Suck it, you bitch! Or would you rather have 
your big ass blistered?" His face was scarlet. 

"No!" Jessie said quickly. This was a side of Norm she'd never seen. She 
crawled across his thighs and lowered her head toward his slack groin. The 
hair on his thighs tickled her nipples, and a quick shudder rippled through 
her soft stomach flesh. Norm's palm came to rest on her upturned bottom, and 
fearful that he might start to spank her, Jessie reached for the 
broad-stemmed limp cock and guided it to her lips. 

She licked the rubbery, reddish-purple blunt head several times, the strong 
male odor assailing her nostrils, then ran her tongue along its length, top 
and bottom. She took it into her mouth and sucked at the head, and almost at 
once the prick in her warm, saliva-filled mouth began to expand and 
lengthen. Jessie ovalled her lips and drew on the hardening gristle, 
mouthing it with little pulling tugs concentrated near the hard coronal 
ring. Tiny drops of seminal fluid oozed from the slit in the head, tasting 
salty-sweet upon her tongue. 

Norm's hand resting on a bare hind cheek became active. He parted her deep 
crevice and felt between her lower buttocks for her jewel box, and a hot 
flash sizzled through Jessie as he manipulated the pouting lips of her 
fissure. Her lips and mouth pulled harder at the captive prick as a 
fiery-hot spasm gripped her interior and her cunt-sheath grabbed of its own 
abandoned volition at Norm's finger penetrating it deeply. 

"Hold it!" Norm rasped, pushing her head away from his cock, now 
stiff-standing and slickly rampant. Jessie was startled to realize that her 
ruttish heat would have had her brazenly and immodestly swallowing Norm's 
spend if he had let her have it. "Ohhhh!" she moaned softly at the image of 
licentiously unchaste, whorishly carnal wantonness she must be presenting. 

Norm rolled her onto her back, and she sprawled there, staring up at him 
with passion-glazed eyes. The feel of the big prick in her mouth had her 
pussy throbbing as it sensed its imminent stuffing. Her labial lips were 
swimming in hot juice from Norm's finger-frigging of her, and her nipples 
were drawn up into erotically tight buds. "Norm!" she panted. "Ooooh, Norm! 
I'm so-hot! Please, Norm! Put it in! Put it inside me!" 

"Not so hoity-toity now, are we?" he declared with satisfaction at the 
reversal in her attitude toward him. "Does um 'ittle cuntum want big prick 
to go fuck-fuck?" 

"Norm!" Jessie bleated, half out of her mind with dissolute profligacy 
churning her interior to molten butter. "Yes! Fuck me, Norm! Please fuck 
me!" 

"Happy to oblige," he said sardonically, and dropped down on her belly after 
widening her legs. Jessie whimpered as the meaty prick dragged itself along 
her flaming slot before prodding her pussy-hole. Her soft mouth formed a 
little round "O" of indecent anticipation as Norm slotted her with his stout 
prong, and she blew out her breath noisily as the saliva-moistened prick 
glided up her wet channel. 

"Ohhhhhhhh!" she burst forth as her tingling cranny was titillated to its 
farthest reaches by the noble shaft distending it. "Ahhhhhhhhh!" she groaned 
in hedonistic gratification as Norm's pubic hair merged with her own mossy 
pelt. "Ooooooh!" she purred in an almost inaudible hushed murmur as Norm 
began to move atop her rounded belly. 

The angle was just right, and from the first plunge of his hips upon her 
Norm's prick was rubbing her clitoris. Jessie bucked her handsome bare 
thighs up in the air and tried to engulf in her straining quiver even more 
of the husky cock pounding it. A broiling, sweltering tropical heat was 
inflaming her ardently thermal interior. Jessie locked her ankles above 
Norm's hard-working back and eagerly raised her bellshaped naked hind cheeks 
on each down-stroke to accept the buffeting they were getting. 

"Ohhh!" Jessie gasped. She swallowed hard to recover lost breath. "Norm!" A 
deep-seated tickle was spreading rapidly all through her well-fucked cunt. 
"NORM!! Ooooooooh!" Her thighs clutched his hard body convulsively. 
"Ahhhhhhhhhhh, God!" Her satiny backside rose from the bed and its silky 
hind cheeks quivered gelatinously as quick spasms wracked Jessie. "Ohhh! 
Ohhh! Ohhh! I'm-you're-I'm coming!" Her soft bottom heaved tumultuously in 
the throes of her abandonment to her voluptuous delight. 
"I'm-COMMMMMMMMMMing!" 

Her voice ran down as her orgasm finished. Half-unconscious, she rested 
impassively beneath Norm as he roared and bucked and shot a thunderous load 
into her before he relaxed on her stomach with a long groan of relief. 

Jessie felt her heated flesh cooling as Norm remained atop her. 
Uncomfortably sticky trickles of sperm overflowed her hotbox, now less 
firmly plugged by Norm's weapon, and ran down her flesh. How had this man 
ensconced on her belly persuaded her to such ruttish abandon? She shied away 
momentarily from acknowledging that she had welcomed it, but then had to 
make the difficult-but-honest admission. Instead of acting with a becoming 
modest diffidence, she had performed like a thoroughly debauched, goatish 
nymph. Slow tears filled her eyes, overflowed, and trickled down her hot 
cheeks. She felt totally ashamed. 

Norm stirred himself, finally, and pulled out of her with an embarrassing 
sibilant sound as their flesh broke contact. 

Chapter Vii 

"You're not a bad fuck, but you're nothin' like Irene," Norm said casually, 
staring down at Jessie's wide-sprawled, wet-pussied abandon. Jessie stared 
back at him, resentful of the comparison. Norm shook his oily-looking cock 
at her. "C'mere an' suck this off," he ordered. 

Her blood cooled, Jessie looked with distaste at his lapsed, reddened prick 
trailing sticky tendrils of sperm. "I won't do it," she said defiantly. "And 
you can't make me." 

Norm laughed, a hard-sounding laugh with little amusement in it. "Oh, no?" 
he said, and shuffled on his knees toward her. Jessie tried to escape, but 
Norm was too quick for her. Before she realized it, he had her pinned to the 
bed on her back and was forcing his odorous, wet-feeling groin into her 
face. Jessie flinched as Norm's prickly balls grazed her chin. "Suck it!" he 
demanded, taking one of her ears in each hand and twisting them cruelly. 

"Owwwwww!" Jessie cried out. Tears of pain spurted from her eyes. Norm 
increased the pressure, and Jessie shrieked her distress. "Owwwwwww! Don't, 
Norm, please! I'll-" 

"You'll suck my prick," Norm said brutally. "Right now." 

The unendurable agony in her ears forced Jessie to grope blindly with her 
soft mouth for the reeking penis thrust into her face. Desperately she 
pulled it between her lips and began to twirl her tongue around the sticky 
pipe-organ while Norm continued to savage her excruciatingly aching ears. 
"Harder!" he ordered, pulling her whole face up into his smelly groin. 

Jessie licked and sucked at the lengthening rod while her tears continued to 
blind her. She moved her head back and forth frantically on the upper half 
of the glistening prick, tonguing the purplish head and sweeping her tongue 
along the thick corrugation on its bottom. Her tastebuds rebelled at the 
combined sensation of her own and Norm's spend-leavings in her throat, but 
she sucked fervently at the re-aroused cock, pulling at it with compressed 
lips even while a grimace of distaste mingled with the look of pain on her 
straining features. 

Norm threw her aside, finally, and Jessie collapsed, panting, licking her 
own lips to remove the taste. Norm's cock was at nearly full mast again, but 
he climbed from the bed and began to dress. "You don't do that like Irene, 
either," he informed Jessie. "I should've let you have a prickful in your 
mouth, but why waste it on a dog like you?" He considered her heaving 
breasts as Jessie strained for breath. "Get your ass into your pants an' 
let's get out've here." Ten minutes later they left the motel room. 

"You're late," Irene said to Jessie when the latter entered the apartment. 

"Yes," Jessie agreed. The burning smart in her ears had degenerated to a 
dull ache. "Would you like to know why?" Quickly she told Irene about Norm, 
omitting only that Norm had forced her to french him after he fucked her. 
"So do me a favor, will you, Irene?" Jessie concluded. "Get Norm off my 
belly and back onto yours." She hadn't intended it to come out quite that 
way, but once in the open she wasn't sorry she'd said it. She had enough 
complications in her life right now without having her security threatened 
by Irene's ex-husband. 

"The sonofabitch! Thinking he can use you to force me to take him back! I'll 
see him in hell first!" She glared at Jessie suspiciously. "Are you sure you 
didn't encourage him?" 

"Of course I didn't encourage him!" Jessie flared. "I want to get rid of 
him! You telephone him right now!" 

"No!" Irene bugled. "I'll handle this my way! I'll show that big-pricked 
jerk he can't have his own way with me!" 

"But what about me?" Jessie asked plaintively. 

"If you need a bodyguard at your age," Irene said stiffly, "I'll meet you at 
the bank after work and escort you home." 

Jessie felt too beaten down from Norm's rough usage to argue further. She 
went into the bathroom and drew a hot tub, stripped, and soaked luxuriously 
for twenty minutes before going into her bedroom. She decided to stretch out 
on the bed just for a moment's rest, and in time her deep, even breathing 
signaled the sleep of exhaustion. 

Irene had afterthoughts during the night. She lay awake in her bedroom with 
flickering images penetrating the screen of her closed eyelids. Norm with 
Jessie. She shifted position in the bed impatiently. Norm was trying to make 
her jealous. Well, she was jealous; she had to admit it. But she wasn't 
going to let him dictate to her. 

On the other hand, she felt guilty about Jessie. It really wasn't fair to 
make Jessie a pawn in the contest between herself and Norm. She and Jessie 
had been good friends and had had good times together before the current 
sex-miasma in which they found themselves involved. Irene had just been 
making conversation when she said she'd escort Jessie home from the bank to 
keep Norm away from her, but it might not be a bad idea. At the very least 
she wouldn't be having these technicolored images of Norm and Jessie 
together in passionately carnal sensuality. 

So when Irene got through work at the hospital the following afternoon, she 
went directly to the bank. She was both disappointed and apprehensive when a 
guard told her that Jessie had already left. Had Norm met Jessie again and 
forced her to accompany him with his threat of blackmail? Suppose Norm 
actually came to prefer Jessie? An icy little finger probed at Irene's 
spine. She still wanted Norm, wanted him desperately, but it would be on her 
own terms. Or could it be that Norm wanted to get rid of her altogether? The 
icy little finger intensified its pressure. 

She started to walk out of the bank lobby, uncertain what to do. She found 
herself confronted by a dapper, debonair-looking man whom in her distracted 
frame of mind she recognized only belatedly as Milton King. She had seen him 
at bank parties to which she had accompanied Jessie. 

"Aren't you the charming redhead who is Jessie's apartment-mate?" Milton 
King asked smoothly. "Don't tell me." He snapped his fingers triumphantly. 
"Irene! The beautiful Irene!" 

"It's nice to see you again, Mr. King," Irene said automatically. 

"The name is Milton," Jessie's boss said quickly. "But you look disturbed. 
Can I be of any assistance?" He gave Irene the full candle-power of his 
smile, and despite her knowledge of this man's hyperactive sexual 
activities, Irene felt warmed. He certainly was a charmer. 

"Not really," she denied his question. She turned her head slightly, 
followed by her body, so that Milton King could see her best profile. "I 
missed Jessie, and I don't know how to find her." 

"You can see Jessie any time," Milton reminded her with another dazzling 
smile. "As a matter of fact, I'm beginning to feel quite disturbed with 
Jessie for hiding you so successfully." His eyes lingered on the thrust of 
Irene's well-endowed bosom beneath her attractive suit. "Service with a 
smile is our motto here at the bank, you know. I wonder if I might buy you a 
drink to ease the burden of your missing Jessie?" 

It was lightly said, and accompanied by a lighthearted smile, but Irene 
wasn't fooled. Milton King was in earnest, and he wasn't talking about a 
drink. This was what it was like to be propositioned by an expert, Irene 
told herself. She wasn't having any, of course, but it still felt 
delightfully soothing to the ego to be wanted. Especially with Norm acting 
like he was. Irene had little difficulty in convincing herself that Norm had 
all but abandoned her. 

"You really look as though you could use a drink," Milton said with all the 
suavity of the accomplished dilettante. 

"Well, just one," Irene was surprised to hear herself say. 

"Fine," Milton said heartily. "If you'll excuse me for just a moment?" 

He left Irene only long enough to lock his desk. He was too skillful to 
leave her enough time to reconsider what she was getting herself into with 
him. These things had a momentum of their own, and he was an artist at 
accelerating it for his own purposes. He escorted Irene through the bank's 
revolving door, and once on the sidewalk tucked her arm in his. "We'll take 
a cab to this quiet little place I know," he announced. 

The quiet little place would be his apartment, Irene knew as she settled 
into the back of the cab that stopped at Milton's imperious wave, but she 
didn't care. Time seemed to have stopped for a moment. She was curious about 
this man after all she'd heard about him, curious about herself with him. 
There wasn't any right or wrong about it, she defended herself; it was just 
a happening, a fleabite in time on the hide of eternity. 

Milton knew the game too well to make any comment when the taxi arrived at 
his apartment building. If he called attention to the location, the 
bird-in-hand too often felt required to make some demurral. He paid off the 
cabbie and silently escorted Irene through the ornate lobby to the 
bronze-doored self-service elevator. 

I'm making it too easy for him, Irene thought as the elevator ascended 
silently. He's going to think I'm a whore. But the skillful hand on her 
elbow, with just enough pressure but not too much, urged her to the door of 
Milton's apartment. Inside, he at once began mixing drinks as an earnest of 
good intention. "Why don't you take off your jacket?" he said over his 
shoulder while manipulating bottles and glasses. "It's warm in here." 

Irene hesitated, but finally removed her suit jacket. Her blouse fit like 
glove-silk, and she could feel Milton's eyes once more upon her prominent 
breasts in their light restraint as he handed her a drink. "It is warm," she 
murmured in order to have something to say. 

He had no intention of allowing the momentum to slacken even for a drink. 
Once they had time to think, there was danger of losing them. Pressing the 
glass into Irene's hand, he slipped an arm around her waist casually and 
lowered his head. "You really are beautiful, you know," he said softly 
before fusing his lips upon hers. 

The hard kiss surprised Irene, who had expected a more leisurely pace. 
Balancing the nearly full liquor glass in her hand, she was in poor 
condition to fight off the embrace even if such had been her intention. 
Flowerlike, her mouth opened instinctively to the probing of Milton's tongue 
as his chest crushed her breasts. 

At an early age Milton had learned that a fully-clothed girl resists 
manhandling as much for fear of getting mussed as for Sunday school 
principles. It was a cherished axiom of his that a girl with thighs bared 
was a girl with a prick three-quarters of the way into her willing cunt. 
With Irene's lips moving warmly beneath his, he drew down the zipper of her 
skirt and let its weight drag it down to the lush carpeting. 

"Milton!" Irene muttered in automatic protest even while her tongue sought 
out his and engaged it. Heat waves were emanating from the region of her 
tight-feeling stomach. With the skill born of practice Milton took her 
undrained glass from her hand and disposed of it, rucked up her half-slip, 
and stroked the backs of her bare thighs. Irene shivered, and Milton deftly 
slipped a hand under the waistband elastic of her panties and slid the hand 
downward until it cupped a luscious nude globe. 

"Milton!" Irene's tone was hoarse. The man was incredibly clever in his 
approach. He had remained two steps ahead of her all the way, forcing the 
issue. The feel of the masculine palm on her bare buttock reminded her of 
how much she missed Norm. She was getting wet just standing there, feeling 
the quick cupping-and-releasing movement of the male hand on her naked 
flesh. 

"What gorgeous skin!" he murmured in her ear, brushing the lobe with his 
lips. Another shiver rippled through Irene as her apartment-mate's boss 
deftly disposed of her panties altogether and immediately probed at her 
red-gold feathery moss clustered at her thigh juncture. He'll think I'm a 
whore! one corner of Irene's excitement-muzzied mind trumpeted at her. But 
why fight it! another corner replied. 

Irene sighed deeply as Milton inserted his hand between her slack thighs and 
cupped her whole pussy on his palm, which opened and closed gently. Her 
knees grew weak, and she leaned heavily against him. In the instant he 
sensed all possible resistance had collapsed, Milton picked her up bodily 
and carried her to a convenient bedroom. 

He was unbuttoning his own clothing with one hand while he bent down over 
the semi-recumbent Irene and pressed fervently clinging kisses to her warm 
nude backside. "Gorgeous!" he muttered again, toeing off his shoes. Irene 
was startled when he slid onto the bed with her, nude. He did everything so 
quickly there was never an opportunity to mount effective retreat. He had 
her out of the remainder of her clothing while she was concentrating upon 
the feel of his elongated penis pressing against her thigh. 

"Beautiful!" Milton caroled as he fitted Irene beneath him and luxuriated in 
soft hand-fuls of snow-white, ruby-nippled boobies and navel-dimpled belly. 
He took Irene's thighs in his surprisingly strong hands and doubled them 
back upon her breasts, totally exposing her pink slit clustered with 
red-gold curls. "Beautiful!" he said again, and inserted a finger into 
Irene's reddish-thatched sex-fissure. 

He frigged her slowly as her sexual flesh clung to the probing finger, the 
pouting pussy-lips moving in and out with the steady movement of the 
deliriously exciting intruder. He withdrew the finger and moved it slightly 
downward, where it nestled against Irene's taut brown-berry anus. "Ever have 
it romping around in there?" Milton asked quietly. 

Irene didn't hesitate. "When I was married," she said. Norm had introduced 
her to the anguish-delight of a stiff prick in her rectum. 

Milton at once squirmed his fingertip into Irene's tight receptacle. She 
tensed and held her breath as the finger remorselessly advanced until 
Milton's knuckles grazed either side of her supporting walls. Quick little 
flaring nips of sharp pain radiated from her invaded asshole, but there was 
a countermanding sensation that was not painful at all but acutely 
self-serving. "Fuck me first so I'll loosen up all over," she was ashamed to 
hear herself plead. 

Milton paid no attention. The constricted flesh around his inserted finger 
had his robust love-muscle standing at attention. He loved to fuck a tight 
asshole, and this was a tight one. Dolly's was no longer sufficiently 
constrictive to arouse him to his best efforts, due to much usage earlier in 
their marriage. 

He removed his finger for the second time from an Irene-orifice, and she 
slowly uncoiled from her doubled-up position. Milton was moving swiftly 
again. He carried two pillows to the far wall and placed them on the floor 
end-to-end, then picked up Irene and carried her to them. He placed her on 
her knees, inclined her upper body forward, widened her thighs, and moved in 
behind her with his swinging spear prodding her hind cheeks. "I've got to 
have it!" he said between his teeth, spitting on his palm several times and 
moistening the head and shaft of his beefy cock. 

Irene's whole body trembled as she felt the blunt, slippery head of his 
starched penis slip between her parted hind cheeks and prod her tight 
rosebud. Milton leaned into her, and Irene grunted inelegantly as the head 
of his prick wormed its way into her anus. Milton backed off and shoved, 
backed off and shoved again, and a bolt of pain shot through the red-haired 
girl's riven flesh. She chewed her lower lip silently as Milton plowed into 
her, his cock slipping in a little at a time. 

She received the final three inches of his ramrod-erection with a rush as he 
broke through the resistance of her sphincter. "Ahhhhhh!" she gasped as 
another clutching pain seized her momentarily, but then her rectum relaxed 
as Milton remained still for a moment. She pursed her lips apprehensively 
when he finally began to move upon her, but the pain was gone. Instead, she 
felt a mounting excitement as the hard rod savaged her backhole and Milton's 
balls slapped her lower buttocks. 

Milton pistoned his straining cock in and out of Irene's deliciously 
constricted asshole, scrabbling with his knees on the pillows for better 
leverage as he thrust mightily into her bowel-depths. The warm, loose, 
oleaginous texture of her inner tissue titillated him unbearably. His shaft 
was still gripped tightly but his prick-head was floating in whipped cream. 
Looking down, he saw the blue-veined white gristle protruding from between 
the redhead's parted buttock-cheeks, and he shoved harder. 

A slow tickling-teasing sensation bubbled into full-blown life inside 
Irene's unused cunt-walls. She writhed her hips as the sensation grew 
stronger. She raised a hand previously used to balance herself against 
Milton's whacking lunges into her and tried to insert it into her flaming 
pussy. Sensing her movement, Milton threw his arms around her and 
intercepted her hand, sliding two fingers of his own into her slavering quim 
while with his other hand he repeatedly nipped her flinching clitoris with 
quick pinches. 

"Ohhhhhhhhhh!" Irene bleated, on fire fore and aft. Her sheath-walls grabbed 
convulsively at Milton's fingers. "Aieeeee! Ooooooo! Dear- God!" Her mind 
reeled at the totality of the sensations flooding her. Never had she been so 
skillfully ass-fucked! "Ooooooh!" Her slender thighs thrashed madly. "Ohhh! 
Ohhhhhhh! You're-I'm-ooooooooohh!-coming! I'm- mmmmmmmmm!-COMING!" 

Along her crouched back Milton snarled raspingly as he powered his hips into 
a final frenzied assault that pumped a flood-tide of sperm through his rod 
into the girl's tight-gapped strainer. Irene sagged beneath him as her own 
orgasm petered out, and Milton pulled out of her distended anus with a 
cork-popping sound. Sperm gushed from her buttonhole down her thighs onto 
the backs of her legs, and Irene stretched out wearily on her side as Milton 
parted her hind cheeks curiously for a final look at the reddened moist 
asshole he had just finished sodomizing. 

"I've got to go," Irene mumbled huskily after a long moment's silence. 

Milton King laughed. He was rubbing his crimsoned prick against Irene's bare 
thigh, and the oily-looking cock was rising again. "You'll go after I turn 
you over and fuck your cunt-hole," he said crisply. The bawdy words stirred 
Irene; a sensual shiver rippled through her soft, relaxed flesh. Milton's 
quick hands flipped her over onto her back. He deployed her legs, augmenting 
the upward tilt of her hair-lined pouting-lipped sex-crevice, then lined up 
his once-again steely shaft with the redhead's wide-splayed cunt-opening, 
bedewed by sperm descended from her rectum. 

Irene rested on her back and looked up at her ravisher with a look of 
sex-fever naked in her wide-staring eyes. 

Wayne Evans waited for Irene Blanchard to open the apartment door after his 
knock, but it was Jessie Irwin who opened the door. "Oh, hi," Wayne said, 
slightly disconcerted at the appearance of the dark-haired girl. "I'm-Irene 
was going to give me another facial tonight." 

"She'll probably be along soon," Jessie replied, stepping aside to let Wayne 
enter the apartment. She looked at his face as she closed the door. "It's 
really helping, isn't it?" she commented. 

"You bet it is," Wayne said fervently. He ran a hand over his face where the 
hardened scalelike residue had noticeably softened. "Only four treatments, 
too. Irene says a dozen should have me almost normal. I still can't believe 
it." He looked at Jessie, who was wearing a casual housecoat. "I don't 
suppose anyone with skin like yours can imagine how I've felt all my life." 

"It's nice Irene was able to help," Jessie said gently. 

Wayne was thinking of Jessie's magnificent skin-tone as he had seen it 
displayed in the shack near the pond after the skating accident had soaked 
them both. He tried to remember what Jessie had looked like, nude, but all 
he could think of was Dolly King's plump curvaceousness and Irene's 
slender-but-sturdy nakedness. Jessie was better-looking than either, and he 
was surprised that he couldn't remember what her full-figured beauty of form 
looked like. 

Jessie had observed his distraction. "What's the matter?" she inquired. "Why 
are you looking so distraught?" 

"Nothing," he said absently. Wayne was remembering how he hadn't been able 
to make Jessie come that afternoon. With his recent experiences with Dolly 
and Irene buttressing his former lack of dexterity, he was sure he could 
make her come now. He looked at Jessie speculatively, wondering how much 
underwear she had on beneath the housecoat. 

"Really, Wayne," Jessie said with a little laugh, "what is the matter with 
you? You look like-well I don't know what." 

"I'll tell you, since you ask," Wayne replied with sudden boldness. "I want 
to fuck you." Jessie blinked, uncertain she had heard correctly. Wayne took 
a quick step in her direction and circled her waist with his arm. His heart 
leaped exuberantly when his fingertips announced to him that beneath the 
housecoat there was just Jessie. "God, you feel good!" he said tensely, 
massaging a thinly clad haunch through the housecoat. 

"Wayne!" He had parted the housecoat in front and was staring at her 
breasts, belly, and dark-muffed mound as though memorizing each individual 
characteristic of Jessie's female opulence. "No, no, no!" Jessie half-wailed 
as Wayne lifted her housecoat in back and played with her chubby amplitudes. 
She squealed breathlessly when her fellow banking employee caught her to him 
suddenly and crushed her against him until she could feel through his 
clothing his hard-bunched groin against her thigh. 

"Please, Jessie!" Wayne begged, his hands laving her supple bottom-cheeks 
while his arms pinioned her. "I couldn't make you come before, but I can 
now. Please!" 

The fondling hands on her bare bottom stirred Jessie almost as much as the 
hard-pricked probing against her upper leg. A sudden languid-ness assailed 
her; it was pleasant to be wanted so desperately. Wayne was a good friend, 
so how could it be wrong to assuage his eager desire? She stood submissively 
as Wayne, sensing the diminution of her resistance, rapidly whisked off the 
housecoat completely. Their commingled heavy breathing was the only sound in 
the room as Wayne's hands moved restlessly over the silky slopes of Jessie's 
naked belly, breasts, and buttocks. 

She followed obediently when he took her by the arm and led her to her 
bedroom. She had been resting, and the bed was already stripped. She sat on 
its edge, watching in a sort of stopped-camera calm as Wayne quickly 
undressed. It wouldn't be much good for her, she knew from the last time, 
but how could she say no when it obviously meant so much to him? It was with 
almost a maternal attitude on her part that she reached out and gently took 
his unbending muscular cock in her hand and toyed with its bright red head 
when he approached her on the bed. 

She permitted him to move her into the center of the bed and to extend her 
smoothly fleshy thighs laterally. The husky cock rested on her warm belly 
for a moment as Wayne moved in between her parted legs. "It'll be better, 
Jessie," he was whispering over and over. "It'll be better for you." 

She was afraid for a second he was going to plunge his rigidity into her dry 
hole, but then she felt a fingertip teasing her orifice after separating her 
cunt-lips. The finger marched upward to her clit, and Jessie's thighs 
quivered. A slow, easeful down-dripping ensued at once that liberally bathed 
Wayne's finger. Jessie squirmed slightly in unexpectedly agreeable enjoyment 
as the fleshly candle titillated her candle-holder. 

The finger departed despite Jessie's closing her thighs upon it in mute 
protest. Wayne widened them again and introduced the head of his prick to 
Jessie's dimpled cunt-hole. She relaxed as the softer-feeling but 
broader-based rugged spear began to pierce her gaping twat. It went inside 
in a series of shoves that crammed her cloister with the desirable sex-meat. 
Jessie's breath passed between her half-parted lips in a long sigh. 

But it was when Wayne began to work upon her that she at once sensed the 
difference from the previous time in the shack. Her breath caught in her 
throat as the pistoning prick started quick little fires in her interior. 
What in the world was happening? She certainly hadn't felt like this before 
with Wayne. "Ohhhh!" she exclaimed involuntarily as her hermitage-walls 
gripped the visitor snugly upon each of Wayne's powerful immersions in her 
surprised pussy. "That's -uhh!-lovely, Wayne! Oooooh! You're doing-it 
beautifully!" she panted. "I'm-ooooh! AHHHHHHHhhhhhh!" 

She came so quickly and so effortlessly she had no time to articulate it. 
The soles of her feet shot ceilingward and her nude hips spiraled upward 
from the bed while the soft cheeks of her behind shook and shivered from the 
violence of her orgasm. Her greedy cunt clutched at Wayne's rod repeatedly 
as her sheath-walls oozed sex-moisture along his penetrating prong. 

"Ahhhhhhhhhh!" Jessie moaned in relaxed bliss as her bottom sank back upon 
the sheet. Wayne, who had gone into neutral when he felt her come, resumed 
his stiff-pricked poking of her lubricious channel. "Take your time, Wayne," 
Jessie whispered to him. "Make it a good one for yourself." Her hands fitted 
themselves to his shoulders and cradled him to her breasts. 

In seconds her half-closed eyes flew open unbelievingly as a renewed 
tingling deep within her prick-filled cunt signaled a palpitating resurgence 
of sensation. Dear God, was she going to come again? 

Outside the apartment Norman and Irene Blanchard were sitting in his car, 
quarreling. Norm had been waiting for Irene in the apartment parking lot, 
and he had half-talked, half-forced her into his car. "We've got to get a 
few things straight right now," he growled at her, his face close to hers. 

"You don't own me, Norm Blanchard!" Irene returned warmly, refusing to be 
intimidated by her ex-husband. 

"Shut up!" he said rudely. "I suppose you've been out fucking someone?" 

"None of your business!" she retorted. 

"Who was it?" he persisted jealously. 

Irene hesitated. She had never been able to lie successfully to Norm. Sooner 
or later he forced the truth from her by sheer perseverance. "Jessie's 
boss," she said reluctantly. "It-it just sort of happened. He likes the same 
thing you do." 

"You mean he punked you in the ass?" Norm demanded, outraged. 

"He buggered it," Irene said primly. 

"The sonofabitch!" Norm snorted. But he returned to the main point. "Who 
else? Fucked you, I mean?" 

"Wayne," Irene said. 

"Wayne!" It was almost a shout. "That kid? You sure as hell must have been 
hard up!" 

"He's not as much of a kid as you think, Norm." She tried to turn the 
tables. "I suppose you've been laying half the town?" It was a familiar 
pattern: mutual recrimination, mutual distrust. Only in bed had they ever 
attained any satisfaction together. 

"Who else?" Norm persisted, ignoring her question. 

"No one else," Irene said truthfully. She could feel the familiar thawing in 
her protective veneer as she sat close to Norm in his car. She had never 
known a man whose physical proximity excited her so much. She wanted him 
right now, angry though she still was with him for his brief show of 
independence. She would have bet that he felt the same way, too. She would 
have bet that if she reached over and put her hand on his trouser-fly, the 
familiar rampant erection would be present. She had to almost forcibly 
restrain herself from reaching. The tip of her tongue licked her dry lips. 

And then Norm took her hand suddenly and placed it on his groin. Irene 
almost whimpered at the feel of his hard cock. The crotch of her panties 
dampened as she gently squeezed the semi-rigid penis which could transport 
her to such blissful heights. "Let's go upstairs," Norm said thickly. 

Irene had been half expecting him to take her pants off right in the car. 
"Jessie's probably there," she said weakly. 

"I don't give a shit if the Queen of England is there!" Norm rasped. "I'm 
gonna fuck your bare ass till it's busier'n a gravedigger in cholera times!" 

The lewd image his words concocted excited Irene still more. Norm opened the 
car door, and she got out obediently. In the self-service elevator he took 
out his cock and showed it to her. "I'm gonna clean your teeth with this 
little jobbie, baby," he announced with deep satisfaction. 

The back of Irene's throat felt parched. She could almost taste the big 
prick Norm was waving at her. She fumbled in her handbag for her key. When 
she stood in front of the apartment door, Norm crowded up behind her and his 
released rigidity poked her between the buttocks. "Norm!" she whispered 
frantically. "Suppose someone comes out into the corridor!" 

"Let 'em come!" he said grimly. "Get that goddamn door open or you'll walk 
inside with a prick already in you!" 

She got the door open somehow, although her hands were trembling. Once 
inside, she held up a warning hand to Norm, who was right behind her. 
Muffled sounds were coming from the interior of the apartment, sounds Irene 
couldn't immediately identify. Then a long moan of sexual pleasure drifted 
out to them, and Norm grinned. "Your girl friend's gettin' her ashes 
hauled," he observed. 

"Quiet!" Irene pleaded. She slipped off her shoes, pointed to Norm's, and 
waited until he did the same. Stocking-footed, they walked silently through 
the living room to the partly opened door of Jessie's bedroom. Irene's 
stomach gave a lurch at the vision of lust on the bed, so much more graphic 
somehow than she had anticipated when she thought she'd sneak a look. 

Jessie was face down on the bed with Wayne kneeling between her widened 
thighs while he supported himself above her back with both hands on the bed 
alongside her shoulders. Jessie's flaring nude buttocks were elevated 
slightly as Wayne's thick prong plowed lustily between them. Wayne's face 
was almost hidden as he stared down between Jessie's shoulderblades and 
plunged his hips forward in metronomic precision, but Jessie's face was 
turned toward the door, and the onlookers gazed silently upon her beautiful 
face, sensually glazed with almost seraphically unsullied satisfaction. 
Another low moan escaped her, attesting to her carnal bliss. 

"He's got it in her asshole," Irene whispered, awed. 

"Naah," the more knowledgeable Norm replied. "It's in her cunt." He watched 
for a moment critically. "He's doin' a hell of a job," he admitted 
grudgingly. Before Irene had an inkling of his intention, he sauntered 
toward the bed. "H'ya, kids," he said airily. "Stand a little company?" 

Jessie's half-closed eyes flew open and she emitted a choked scream as Wayne 
froze at the point of deepest penetration, lodged to the hilt within her 
clasping pussy-lips. 

Bugeyed, they both stared at their visitors. 

"Like you got that thing really plugged, man," Norm said approvingly to 
Wayne. 

"Wh-what do you want?" Wayne stammered as Jessie tried fruitlessly to 
wriggle her hips free from the prick penetrating her buttock crevice. 
Wayne's cock was rammed home too deeply. 

"Want?" Norm repeated. "Why, a little of the same, that's all." He turned to 
look at Irene. "Shuck your duds, sister, an' let's get in the ball game." 

Deliberately he began to remove his own clothing. 

Chapter Viii 

Jessie Irwin thought she had never been so mortified in her life, pinned 
helplessly face down on her bed with Wayne's long cock protruding from 
between her sweat-glistening buttocks, whose pristine milky sheen Norm 
Blanchard was admiring as he speedily undressed. "Irene!" Jessie gasped as 
Wayne's prick throbbed inside her lubricious cunt. "Take Norm -out of here! 
Please!" She addressed herself immediately to the owner of the blue-veined 
cock three-quarters immersed between her plump white hind cheeks. "Wayne! 
Pull out, Wayne! This-this is awful!" 

"The hell with that, Wayne," Norm spoke up breezily. "I'll have Irene on the 
bed alongside Jessie in a minute and we'll see who can last the longest." 

"Irene!" Jessie wailed despairingly. 

The redhead knew she wasn't going to talk Norm out of anything he wanted to 
do, and that in his present mood discretion was by far the better part of 
valor. Her pulse was still beating a little faster, stirred by the 
erotically indecorous tableau on the bed. She didn't think she approved of 
what she instinctively knew Norm proposed to do, but there was excitement in 
the bedroom air. Sexual excitement she could feel right in the pit of her 
stomach. 

Norm approached her, naked except for his socks, his half-aroused penis 
swinging freely in front of him. "Out of those clothes!" he said briskly to 
Irene, who had been lagging in her divestiture. Her ex-husband quickly 
peeled Irene to her stockings, picked her up bodily, and carried her to the 
bed. He stretched her out belly down beside the still protesting Jessie, 
then moved in between her extended legs until he paralleled Wayne's position 
on Jessie except for the prick-insertion. 

For an instant Wayne and Norm stared down at the nubile girlish bare 
backsides upturned before them. Irene's skin, seen in direct comparison, was 
whiter than Jessie's creamier skin-tone. Jessie's full-laden, amply fleshy 
behind was larger than Irene's, which was more delicately shaped. "Isn't 
that a pair?" Norm said quietly to Wayne as both inspected the downy-haired 
sleek hemispheres shrinkingly presented to their mutual gaze. Both girls had 
clenched their buttock muscles involuntarily as they sensed the 
double-viewing that was taking place. 

"Oooooh, Norm!" Irene murmured throatily as she felt her ex-husband raise 
her slightly by the hips. Wayne watched and even Jessie turned her head to 
see Norm insert his rampant cock between the red-haired girl's velvety nude 
seat-cushions. "Norm!" Irene cried out as she felt the familiar large 
prickhead nudging her sex-slot. She wriggled her bottom, half in shame, half 
in desire as the lusty penis penetrated her vaginal hole and slid inexorably 
upward into the depths of her febrile-feeling cunt. "Ohhhhhhh!" she moaned 
softly. 

Norm looked across at Wayne, still prick-lodged in Jessie's pink-lipped 
sex-bower. "Ready?" he asked. "Then ride 'em, cowboy!" 

In unison both men plunged their hips forward, compressing the soft buttocks 
beneath their hard bellies as their joysticks slammed to the hilt in the 
twin cunts. The white bottoms rebounded resiliently as Norm and Wayne 
withdrew for another stroke. Wayne fucked Jessie as zestfully as Norm was 
slotting Irene. Wayne had already come once with Jessie in the missionary 
position, and this had dulled his edge to the point where he was in no 
danger of coming immediately although he felt strong. 

"Ooooh!" Jessie whispered as Wayne's renewed poking of her aroused her 
previous excitement. She turned her head on the bed until she was staring 
into Irene's face a foot away. Without a word being said they inched closer 
together until they could kiss. The soft mouths and fevered tongues fused in 
a melange of sexual gratification as, with all thoughts of shame dissipated, 
both girls thrust up their bottoms to help in deeper penetration of their 
twitching, prick-filled pussies. 

"God, look at that!" Wayne gasped to Norm, awed, gazing down upon the 
mouth-locked Irene and Jessie. 

Norm grunted unintelligibly as he plowed Irene's pasture. His prick felt as 
though it was bursting from the double stimulation of imprisonment within 
his ex-wife's warm quiver and the sight of Wayne's furious assault upon 
Jessie's moistened crypt. The double sound of male bellies spanking female 
bottoms echoed in the bedroom. 

Jessie shivered suddenly and dug with her knees frantically at the bedsheet. 
She wrenched her mouth away from Irene's as a quick series of lightning 
bolts exploded in her interior. "Ohhh! Ohhh! Ohhh!" she cried out in 
ecstasy. Pure delight bubbled in her veins. "Oooooh, I'm-it feels 
so-ahhhhhh!-'m-coming! Ooooooh, I'm-coining!" 

Beside her Irene's eyes had acquired a sexual glaze. She heard the first 
part of her friend's pronouncement but not the last. A devilishly 
titillating tremor in her own female flesh was immediate consolation for the 
loss of Jessie's hot, clinging lips and mouth. A skyrocket went off in her 
womb, quaking every millimeter of her flesh. "Eeeeeeeeeee!" Irene shrilled 
as her cunt-walls grabbed convulsively at the intruder prick in their 
depths. "Owoooooo!" Her behind humped up and down. "Love-ly!" she panted 
hoarsely. "OHHHHHHHHHhhhh, there it-is!" Her hips flurried madly as orgasm 
overtook her. "AHHHHHHHHHHhhhhhh!" she sighed, drained. 

Norm and Wayne looked down at the hard-breathing females beneath them. 
"Let's swap!" Wayne said impulsively. 

"Like you're faded, man," Norm returned immediately. 

Both men pulled out their unexpended lances, shining with girlish spend. 
Awkwardly they changed places, inserting their knees between the parted 
white female legs. Norm separated Jessie's heavy hind cheeks and aimed his 
thunderbolt at her oozing, reddened recess while Wayne did the same with 
Irene. Within seconds of each other they were once more laboring in the 
vineyard with mighty thrusts of twin cocks into twin cunts. 

Norm succumbed first. He lowered himself along Jessie's perspiration-shiny 
back as his hips skittered out of control. "Jesus!" he shouted as quick 
spurts of sperm were ripped from him involuntarily. "Oh, Jesus, what a 
fuck!" His hairy ass plunged rabbitlike in quick jabs as he deluged Jessie's 
quim. "Aggrrrrh!" he groaned mightily as he rested on Jessie and felt his 
draining prick begin to shrivel inside her. 

Wayne dropped down similarly upon Irene's sweat-dampened body. His thighs 
jerked savagely from the energy he was pouring into the prick-strokes he 
propelled into the redhead's willing twat. His own orgasm overtook him 
before he was mentally ready for it. "Ahhhhh!" he mewed in a braying sound 
that was half zealous endeavor and half protest at the 
too-quickly-arrived-at climax. The bedsprings creaked from the assault of 
his plunging knees. Irene's body quivered from the force of his attack upon 
it. "Ahhh!" he gasped again as his straining balls propelled his come 
through his fleshy tube. "Damn, damn, DAMN, that's- good!" ' 

The tip of his prick stung from the violence of his semen-expulsion, and he 
collapsed on Irene's back as he felt its quivering cessation. Wayne breathed 
through his nose as his parched throat refused to supply enough air. He 
raised his head after a moment and looked at Norm who, in a similar 
position, was grinning at him. "Wow!" Wayne said fervently. 

"Yeah," Norm agreed more laconically. "This is quite a team of fillies." 

"Will you please get off us?" Jessie said spiritedly but in a muffled tone. 
"You don't feel like a pound of feathers, you know." 

"Why didn't you complain before?" Norm retorted, but he raised himself and 
drew back out of Jessie's slot, which made a squishy sound as it gave up its 
limp prisoner. Wayne did the same with Irene with a similar result. Both men 
looked down again, in the instant before the girls simultaneously rolled 
onto their sides, at the pinkened behinds lightly colored by friction. 

Jessie and Irene, their previously heated blood cooling rapidly, refused to 
look at each other. Norm noticed at once. "None of that this time!" he said 
sharply. He seized Jessie and rolled her onto her back. "Grab Irene an' 
switch ends so's you can drop her mouth on Jessie's cunt," he directed 
Wayne. He held Jessie's kicking legs up in the air while Wayne did as 
directed. Norm pushed Irene's middle down upon Jessie's face. "Now whack ass 
if they don't get into each other," he told Wayne, emphasizing his point by 
a sharp slap upon Jessie's upheld bottom. 

Irene found herself with her face pressed down between Jessie's warm thighs 
and an apricot-colored, musty-smelling wet cunt under her mouth. Tentatively 
she dipped her tongue into it, then shivered when she felt a tongue at her 
own widened slit as Jessie worked at the dripping cunt above her face. Once 
each was satisfied she wasn't the spectacle, they scoured out each other's 
pussies with fiery-probing diligence. 

Wayne and Norm watched fascinatedly the female sixty-nining. "That really 
gets to me," Wayne confided to Norm in a low voice. "Seeing them suck on 
each other like that." His previously drooping prick with its 
mucously-shining purplish head was rising in a steady arc. He crouched to 
watch closely as Irene's hips writhed slowly from the stimulation of 
Jessie's quick-darting tongue in her quim. 

Norm was still holding Jessie's legs up in the air so Irene wouldn't have to 
bow her neck too much to get at her friend's frankly displayed mossy 
fissure. "They sure like to chew on each other," Norm agreed. He looked at 
Wayne speculatively. "Did you ever ream Jessie's asshole?" 

"Her asshole?" Wayne repeated, startled. "N-no." 

"You ought to try it," Norm advised. "There's nothin' like it when you're 
crammed into a female dogberry." He was silent until the furious lapping and 
sucking on both ends of the female coupling had died out to an occasional 
languid tongue-extension into a moist crevice. He motioned to Wayne, who 
lifted Irene off Jessie's belly. Norm watched while the girls gravitated 
into each other's arms and exchanged kisses which quickly turned into 
tongue-licking removals of lip-moisture. "Okay," he said with satisfaction 
at this sign of peace in the family. "I got an errand to run, girls, but 
Wayne's got an idea to keep the party goin'." He began to dress. 

"Yes," Wayne said boldly. "I'm going to fuck your asshole, Jessie. And 
you're going to help me do it, Irene." 

"Oh, Wayne!" Jessie said, but with no real protest in her tone. She was 
still feeling flushed from her sexual activity and for the first time in an 
aftermath she didn't feel acutely ashamed. Her glance at Irene was 
challenging. The embarrassment would undoubtedly come later, she realized, 
after the carnal excitement had worn off. 

Dressed and at the bedroom door, Norm lingered a moment as Wayne and Irene 
took Jessie and disposed her so that her lush rump was sprawled openly over 
a pillow placed at the end of the bed. Wayne and Irene consulted quietly 
together while Wayne parted Jessie's nascent hind cheeks and exposed her 
tiny pink rosebud. "I'll get the vaseline," Irene said clearly. 

Norm hesitated. 

Should he stay and participate in what promised to be a most delightful 
frolic? 

But he reminded himself that he had other fish to fry. 

Reluctantly, he left the apartment and descended to the street. He knew that 
in their present frame of mind he wouldn't be missed by those he left 
behind. 

Norm Blanchard drove rapidly across town in his car, formulating a plan as 
the miles dropped away behind him. By the time he reached his goal, a street 
of pretentious residences, he was sure he was ready. He fixed his salesman's 
smile confidently upon his face as he turned into Milton King's crushed 
stone driveway and parked under the archway before the front entrance. 

He rang the bell and waited impatiently. He was eager now to get on with 
this program he had conceived after listening grimly to Irene's relation of 
how Milton King had punked her in the ass. The oldest story in the world was 
that what was sauce for the goose was sauce for the gander, Norm thought to 
himself as he waited for the door to open. Unless he got a really bad break, 
there should be an ass right inside this house to punk. 

Dolly King opened the door. 

She had obviously been taking a nap. Her eyes were still muzzy and her 
usually carefully arranged blonde hair was flying artlessly all over her 
head yet somehow contrived to appear youthfully attractive. "How do you do, 
Mrs. King?" Norm said, taking the initiative at once. "I'm a photographer 
who is taking some shots of the personnel at the bank, and your husband 
thought it was time he had a current semi-formal portrait of you." 

"Why-why," Dolly stammered, "but I'm a mess! He should have called me! My 
hair-" Her voice trailed off as a hand went to her head, automatically 
trying to fluff her hair into some semblance of order. 

"Nonsense!" Norm said cheerfully. "We'll just run a comb through it and set 
it to rights in no time." He glanced at his watch meaningfully. "I have to 
be back at the bank soon." 

Dolly slipped the chain latch from the door. "Couldn't I make an appointment 
for-for tomorrow?" she was still protesting when Norm walked past her into 
the ornate interior of the front hall. 

"I'll be miles away tomorrow," Norm said briskly. "Your husband wanted you 
to take advantage of this opportunity." 

"Well-" Dolly sighed. She closed the door. "What on earth shall I wear? Did 
you say a semiformal portrait?" She led the way into the somewhat 
austere-looking downstairs sitting room with its sterile groupings of 
interior decorator-arranged objets d'art. The enormous room didn't look 
lived in, Norm thought. 

"A cocktail dress?" Dolly continued, facing Norm again. Her negligee covered 
without concealing the double swell of bosom and buttocks above and below 
her small waist. Norm had heard Irene say that Dolly had a drinking problem, 
but except for the slightest puffiness under her eyes there was no 
indication of it in the baby doll beauty of her almost flawless features. 
Studying her, Norm felt a quick surge of excitement. There was nothing that 
turned him on sexually more than womanly amplitudes, and Dolly King had 
womanly amplitudes in abundance. "Do you think a cocktail dress?" Dolly 
repeated. 

"You have beautiful skin, Mrs. King," Norm said earnestly. "To do justice to 
it we'd really have to pose you in the baby style of the '90s. You know, 
nude and bottom-up over a cushion." 

Dolly giggled at the image recalled, then set her soft mouth primly. "You're 
becoming a bit familiar, Mr.-Mr.-" She paused when she realized she didn't 
know Norm's name. In the next instant she realized something else. "Your- 
your camera!" she faltered. "You don't-did you leave your camera in your 
car?" she finished hopefully. 

Norm edged closer to her in case she panicked when she realized her 
situation, alone in her home with a strange man. "There's no camera, Dolly," 
he said easily. "I'm here for another reason." 

"But-but I don't understand! You said-" "Did you ever hear the name Irene 
Blanchard, Dolly?" 

The chubby blonde with the puzzled expression blinked. "Irene-isn't she the 
friend of Jessie Irwin?" 

"Exactly," Norm said. "And my wife." He ignored Irene's acquired-in-haste 
divorce as he smiled serenely at Dolly. "Whom your husband, Milton, took 
advantage of recently and fucked in her asshole." 

"Ohh!" Dolly exclaimed, startled at the language no less than at the 
thought. 

"So I'm going to fuck your asshole, Dolly," Norm continued. 

Dolly King swallowed visibly as one hand went protectively to her rear. 
"You're-you're joking!" She tried to firm up her quavering voice. "And in 
the worst possible taste!" 

Deliberately Norm unzipped himself and took out his prick, which was 
undergoing a lazy resurrection. Dolly gave a muted squeak as she glimpsed 
his sexual machinery, and her eyes widened as she estimated its dimensions. 
Norm took her by the arm. "What are you afraid of, Dolly?" he asked softly. 
"Milton fucks you in the asshole, doesn't he?" 

"But that's-that's different!" Dolly was getting into a panic. "You're-I 
don't even know -you can't do this!" 

Norm waved his prick at her, and Dolly gulped. "Up your ass, Dolly," he 
assured her. "Way up. All the way up. Can't you feel it now?" She tried to 
pull away from his arm grip, but Norm held on. "First we have to make a 
phone call, though." 

Dolly stopped struggling. "A-a phone call?" 

"To your husband." 

"I don't-I don't understand," Dolly said helplessly. 

With his free hand Norm pushed Dolly's negligee from her shoulders. It 
descended to her arms, which Norm held low as her bright-straw-berry-nippled 
large white breasts sprang into view. Dolly gave another stifled sound of 
protest but didn't struggle. Norm bent his head and licked with the tip of 
his tongue at a bouncingly portly bubby. "You're going to call your husband 
and tell him a man forced his way into the house under false pretenses and 
is threatening to fuck your asshole," he said when he straightened up. He 
tugged on Dolly's arm and drew her toward the telephone. 

The well-fleshed blonde moved like a sleepwalker. Norm had to dial for her. 
"Mr. King, please," he said when he had the connection, then handed the 
phone to Dolly. "Say it," he demanded. 

He could hear Milton King's impatient, "What is it?" 

"Milton," Dolly whispered in a choked voice, "there's-there's a strange man 
in the house who says-who says he's going to-to-" She cut her eyes sideways 
at Norm and surprisingly blushed, "-fuck my asshole." 

"What did you say?" Milton roared. "Have you been at the bottle again?" 

Norm took the phone from Dolly's unresisting hand. He deepened his voice and 
made it as menacing as he could. "You think you're the only one who can fuck 
an asshole, King?" he said heavily. He gave a short, satiric laugh, then 
broke the connection. "That will fetch husband Milton on the dead run," he 
said satisfiedly to Dolly. 

"But you-you don't really mean to do it?" she pleaded. 

"The hell I don't," he said flatly. "I wouldn't miss the chance for a farm. 
Get yourself out've that negligee, y'hear?" 

He had to move her arms like a mechanical doll's to accomplish his purpose. 
Beneath the negligee Dolly had on only gossamer-thin black lace panties. 
Norm felt a renewed fire in his loins at the sight of her deeply curved 
belly dipping down into her thighs. He turned her around and stripped the 
panties from her, leaving her attired only in pale gentian-colored pomponned 
slippers. With one hand he patted and stroked and fondled the chubby 
blonde's dazzling white, pliantly silky wide buttocks while Dolly stirred 
uneasily. "Oooooh!" she murmured as the amorous touch of the male hand on 
her bare behind titillated and aroused her. "Please-don't!" 

Norm bent her over, plumping out her generous spheres. He parted them and 
fingered her puckered brown anus. "Target of opportunity, Dolly," he said 
jubilantly, then glanced at his watch. It would take Milton twenty minutes 
to drive home even if he exceeded the speed limit. 

"But first-" 

He led Dolly to a chaise longue with an unused look. He placed Dolly on it 
on her back, then took hold of her legs and spread them, staring down at the 
exposed silken-fleeced blonde wisps adorning a plump-lipped pink sex-gash. 
"First," he repeated, "let's rip off a quick one." 

He discarded his clothing hurriedly and returned to Dolly, who had made no 
move to escape. "Your husband knows you can't help yourself, so you can do 
anything you like, can't you?" Norm remarked. 

Dolly's eyes were enormous pools of reflected light. "Yes," she whispered. 

"So what would you like to do?" 

Dolly's round belly heaved from the quick breath she drew. "Put it in me!" 
she said with her wide-staring eyes on Norm's rocklike erection. "Put it in 
my cunt!" 

"Strange," Norm said genially, "I had the same idea. For the first course." 

He knelt between the blonde's wide-parted legs, lanced her sex-flesh, and 
for ten minutes fucked her steadily while Dolly King whistled and burbled 
and squealed and whimpered and moaned in a frenzy of sexual gratification. 
Norm stayed in her until she came twice, then withdrew. "Now we've got to 
set the scene," he assured the glazed-eyed blonde who didn't even hear him. 

He left the couch and pulled a low-backed chair into the room's center. He 
confiscated one of the chaise cushions and placed it on the chair-back. 
Finally he took Dolly by the hand, lifted her from the chaise, and led her 
to the chair where he bent her over the cushion. He slapped her tautly 
projecting hind cheeks lightly, then settled his unexpended rod in between 
them. For minutes he rubbed his unyielding prick all over Dolly's tender 
bottom-flesh and in between while she wriggled uneasily on the cushion. 
"What are you waiting for?" she whispered finally. 

"For the sound of a key in the front door lock," Norm replied. He parted 
Dolly's capacious globes experimentally and applied his slippery cockhead to 
her anus. Dolly flinched at the touch. 

Norm maintained his erection until he heard the awaited sound. Immediately 
he lined up his cock again and thrust mightily at Dolly's quivering asshole. 
He gained a foothold as she moaned, then shoved, and shoved again. Dolly 
shrieked as she felt her tender rosebud ravaged by the gristly invader, and 
her shriek soared as Norm shoved again and Dolly's flesh was riven. He 
pushed deeply into her warm-feeling, buttery rectum. 

Milton King dashed into the room and skidded to a stop on the Oriental rug 
at the tableau before him. "What the hell!" he shouted hoarsely, and 
sprinted toward Norm and Dolly. He aimed a blow at Norm which the latter 
skillfully diverted. Milton swung around again, his face ablaze with rage. 

"Want to rip your wife's asshole right out?" Norm inquired. 

Milton paused. "Who the hell are you?" he demanded. 

"Irene Blanchard's husband." 

"Irene-oh." Milton looked and sounded deflated. He looked at Norm's stout 
prong inserted between his wife's buttocks, then looked away. "What-what do 
you want?" 

"I'm getting it," Norm replied. He saw Milton take another quick look at his 
penetration of Dolly's rectum, and he moved his hips. The pause before had 
allowed Dolly to accommodate her sudden distention, and at Norm's movement 
upon her she released a sighing "Ooooooooooh!" of simple, unalloyed 
pleasure. "How'd you enjoy Irene's asshole?" Norm asked Milton. 

Milton looked away again, but not before Norm saw a feral gleam of 
excitement in his eyes. "Fine," he said. "You-you do it to her, too?" 

"Correct," Norm said. "There's nothing better." 

"Agreed," Milton said fervently. His glance couldn't seem to settle down on 
any one spot. "Listen," he said, then paused. 

"Yes?" Norm said. 

Dolly King looked around inquiringly. She had expected Milton to be furious; 
instead he was now engaged in this curious, low-pitched, intense 
conversation. And the man whose big cock was firmly inserted in her rear 
aperture had stopped moving in her, to her half-ashamed disappointment. 

"Ever make a sandwich?" Milton asked. 

"Once." Norm smacked his lips at the memory. "Tremendous." 

Milton jerked his thumb at the quiescent Dolly. "Well?" 

"You mean-?" 

"Share and share alike, of course." 

"We sandwich your wife and-" 

"At the first opportunity we sandwich yours," Milton said. 

Deep within Dolly's compacted rectal area Norm felt the tip of his prick 
throbbing at the fascinating proposal. "You've got a deal!" he declared, 
excitement causing his voice to rise. 

"Let's get her upstairs," Milton said immediately. 

Dolly felt Norm's hands on her hips as he pried her off his turgid, 
blood-red linchpin. The finger-snapping sound of his emergence crackled in 
the air. Milton took Dolly's left arm and Norm took her right, and together 
they led her across the room and up the flight of winding stairs. Dolly 
hadn't caught up with their clipped conversation, but she knew instinctively 
that the alliance had only her incidental best interests at heart. 

Midway in the stair climb Milton paused. He caressed all of Dolly's 
silken-skinned excrescences on his side, and Norm at once matched his action 
on the other. Their hands met between Dolly's odalisque-sized buttocks and 
probed her wet cunt. "Ohh!" Dolly exclaimed, torn between fear and desire. 

They stopped playing with her and half-led, half-carried her up the 
remainder of the stairs to the master bedroom. Milton stripped the bed with 
a single clawing sweep of his arm. He took off his clothes hastily as Norm 
seated the nude Dolly on the bed. "What are you going to do, Milton?" she 
asked fearfully as her husband joined them, his lengthy pole stiffeningly 
red-eyed. 

He didn't answer her. He spread her legs, pushed her onto her back, and in a 
quick movement born of long practice slotted his spear in her quiver. It 
glided unmolested into her already well-lubricated hideaway. Milton gave 
Dolly three slow plunges as her mouth pursed from the sensation of the 
familiar prick deep in her cunt, but then he took her in his arms and rolled 
over suddenly, bringing her on top of him. 

Immediately Norm was behind her, and Dolly tried to look around. She felt 
frightened, but Norm's mouth was on her back, kissing it, and his hands 
massaged the curving mounds of her soft, malleable buttocks. He took her by 
the hips and raised her up and down on Milton's shaft, and Dolly gasped. 
When Dolly relaxed, Norm spread the beautifully ample white hemispheres and 
once again applied the tip of his prick to Dolly's exposed, red-looking 
anus. 

Dolly tried to wriggle her bottom out of the way, but Norm skillfully 
pursued his puckered target until the head of his cock penetrated the soft, 
rubbery tissue. When Dolly squealed at the pain as Norm surged into her 
asshole again, he reached around and took hold of her large breasts, rubbing 
the nipples between his fingers. 

Once more Dolly relaxed. 

The pain started up again as Norm pushed harder. Dolly didn't think she 
could stand it, but Milton pulled her head down and covered her mouth with 
his own, shoving his tongue inside and french-kissing her to fresh 
excitement. Milton jogged up and down with his hips beneath her, and his 
steely shaft rode in and out of her clutching pussy. Even the large prick 
impaling her tender rosebud no longer hurt as formerly. 

Dolly gasped as Norm grunted behind her, and for the second time slammed his 
hard cock into the rubbery walls of her rectum. He held tightly to her 
titties to keep her from getting away from him. Another quick flare of pain 
evaporated as Norm began to bottom-fuck her in earnest. He pressed against 
her back and applied his lips to the nape of her neck, kissing it and 
nibbling at it. Cold chills and hot flashes pirouetted through Dolly's 
flesh. 

The two men quickly fell into a rhythmic pattern, both with their hands on 
Dolly's waist, elevating her to rise and fall on the prick in her cunt while 
the cock in her rectum slid in and out. She could feel the heads of their 
cocks seeming to meet together and press against each other with only a thin 
tissue of her own softly pink flesh separating them. A rising tide of sexual 
shamelessness urged her onward. 

She speared herself upon Milton and at the same time ground herself into 
Norm. She rose up and down and was pulled up and down until she felt her 
insides expanding. She exploded all at once, the hot wetness spreading over 
Milton's plunging prick. "Ohhhhhh, it was too- quick!" she groaned as her 
vibrating sheath-walls tried to relax. The buffeting she was receiving fore 
and aft prevented it, however. Dolly went limp between the two male cocks 
which continued to fuck her orifices. 

An animal cry escaped Norm as his orgasm was triggered by Dolly's 
tight-clutching asshole and buttery-warm interior. He shot load after load 
into her straining rectum as Milton lunged up into her from underneath with 
grunted effort that reflected his own imminent spend. Dolly rode out the 
storm while the prick below inundated the uppermost reaches of her vaginal 
wound while the other flooded her bowels. 

The frenzied activity came to a stop, and they rested, Milton still under 
her and Norm solidly embedded in her sperm-filled rectum. Then she felt 
their gradual softening, then the slow, popping withdrawal of Norm following 
which she crawled off Milton, whose soft spear slipped out of her. She 
stretched out on her side on the bed, breathing deeply but calmly. She 
couldn't remember when she had felt so satisfied or so spent. 

Above her prostrate figure Milton looked at Norm. "Change off?" he 
suggested. 

"You bet," Norm replied. 

"She'll suck us up," Milton promised. 

Dolly thought she had never felt so totally female as when she alternately 
sucked the two pricks which had just ravished her. She took pride in the 
fact she was able to make them rise quickly, and her eyes were soft, and 
limpid-looking when Norm went down on his back and Milton seated her on 
Norm's renewed erection before Milton moved in behind her and applied his 
husbandly spear to her semen-weeping hind parts. Her tongue tested her own 
lips lightly as she tasted her own shit from Norm's prong, but then she gave 
herself up to the tremendous surge of emotion from deep within her as once 
again she was stabbed fore and aft by the lusty cocks. 

Twenty minutes later Milton and Norm, both naked, strolled down the 
staircase to the sitting room where Norm had left his clothes. He dressed 
silently while Milton poured them each a brandy and offered Norm a cigar 
from a glass humidor. Norm broke the comfortable silence. "There's Jessie," 
he said. "And Wayne." 

Milton raised an eyebrow. "Wayne?" 

"He's had both Jessie and Irene," Norm explained. 

"And probably Dolly," Milton said wryly. "It seems I've been underestimating 
the caliber of the help in the bank." He looked down into the amber depths 
of his brandy pony for an instant. "The circle touches at all points," he 
said softly. "Perhaps-" 

"Yes," Norm agreed. "You could put it together. You've got the apartment in 
town an'-" 

"And the inclination," Milton finished for him. He ushered Norm to the door, 
and neither man found it odd that Milton was still naked. "You'll be hearing 
from me shortly," he promised. 

Norm looked back at the fieldstone house once with a satisfied smile as he 
drove out onto the street. 

Chapter Ix 

Jessie Irwin entered Milton King's office and closed the door. "You wanted 
to see me, Mr. King?" she said in lip service to office protocol. 

"Yes." His manner was brusque. "The cashier's position is yours under 
certain conditions." 

"Conditions?" Jessie repeated warily. 

"You must understand that I'm doing myself no favor by promoting you to the 
job." Milton's solemn expression was lightened by a sudden smile. "Given 
your competitive nature and undoubted qualifications, the day could 
conceivably come when you might represent a threat to my own position." He 
smiled again. "So I must ask for some concessions." 

"Of what nature?" Jessie asked, although she was sure she knew one of them 
and she hadn't yet made up her mind about it. 

"I'd expect you to make yourself available for fucking occasionally," Milton 
said casually. 

Jessie cringed at the use of the Anglo-Saxon. What kind of person would she 
be if she baldly acquiesced in her own body-usage by this smiling satyr? 
Gloria would have fucked Milton to get the job, perhaps had already; yet it 
was she, Jessie, to whom the job was being offered. In a way it was a 
tribute to her femininity as much as her banking qualifications. But still- 

"And then there's Wayne," Milton continued. 

It startled Jessie, "W-Wayne?" she stammered. Had Milton King found out 
about her and Wayne? Surely she wasn't going to lose the position now 
because Milton disapproved? 

"I understand he's quite active in banking circles these days," Milton went 
on with a knowing smile, and Jessie felt a slow, deep blush consuming her. 
"So much so that's part of the conditions." He held up his hand and ticked 
off his fingers. "For the sake of convenient groupings, let's say there's 
Wayne and you. And Norm and Irene. And Dolly and I." Jessie stared, 
bug-eyed. "And I have a convenient apartment close by," Milton resumed. 
"Notice that I said convenient groupings, Jessie, Not permanent, and not 
necessarily pairs." 

"You mean-" Jessie groped for words. 

"Saturnalia?" Milton asked. "Why not? I believe you've sampled some aspects 
of the-ah -sextette. Would you really have many qualms about-ah-broadening 
your experiences?" His smile widened until his white teeth glistened. "In 
the employment of pricks and cunts of good friends?" 

Jessie drew a slow breath. In the instant she'd thought she might not get 
the cashier's position when Wayne's name was mentioned by Milton, she had 
realized fully how badly she wanted it. It was more than the fact that it 
was the temporary culmination of her years of work in the bank; it was the 
fact that everyone in the organization knew what manner of man Milton King 
was, and if Jessie Irwin failed to get the job then Jessie Irwin was lacking 
in the gut-survival aspect of the business world. 

And Jessie Irwin didn't feel she was lacking in anything. 

"You have my word," she said carefully. 

"Fine," Milton King approved. "Have Wayne stop in here, will you, please?" 

Wayne Evans stood uneasily in front of Milton King's desk. "Yes, sir?" he 
said. 

Milton looked up casually from the report he had pretended to be reading. 
"Dolly says you're a good cocksman, Wayne." 

Wayne felt as though he had been punched in the belly. Then he wished the 
deep pile carpeting in front of Milton's desk would open up and swallow him. 
"Yes, s-sir," he stuttered. 

"And I haven't heard any complaints from Jessie." Wayne took a backward 
step; his breath was strangled somewhere in the depths of his straining 
throat. "Or Irene." 

I'm fired, Wayne thought miserably. Will I ever be able to get another job? 

"So those three and you and I and Norm will be having a few parties at my in 
town apartment from time to time." 

"Eh?" Wayne thought his hearing had gone out of control. 

"Assuming you have no objections," Milton said suavely. 

"Oh, no! No, indeed! I should say not!" Wayne's voice increased in fervor. 
"I'll-I'll surely be looking forward to it!" Belatedly he remembered his 
manners. "And-and thank you!" 

He turned at Milton's casual handflip of dismissal and stumbled from the 
office. Boy, what a near thing! How could this solution ever have come 
about? Damned if he could understand it, but he certainly wasn't knocking 
it. Jessie, and Irene, and the soft-bodied Dolly King-his heart skipped a 
beat. He could hardly wait for the first foregathering. 

Norm Blanchard was explaining things to his ex-wife, Irene, at the girls' 
apartment. Both were nude, and Irene's bright-blotched pink belly testified 
to the previous few moments' activity. She had been listening to Norm with 
growing alarm. "But Norm," she protested, "I love making it with you, but in 
a roomful of people? And with-with others?" 

"You've had the others," Norm said matter-of-factly. 

"But I'd feel so ashamed! So humiliated!" 

Norm eyed her sardonically. "With a stiff prick in your cunt you'd feel 
ashamed?" 

"Well, no," Irene admitted. "Probably not. But-" 

"Then wait'll you get three pricks in you at once," Norm said. 

"Three pr-oh, Norm, you don't mean it! Why, I'd die! I'd simply die! I mean 
there are some things-" 

"Jessie's agreed," Norm said. "And Dolly." 

"Jessie has?" Irene shook her head slowly. "Well, I can certainly do 
anything Jessie Irwin can do." 

"And better," Norm said slyly. He rolled toward her and stroked her smooth 
stomach and fiddled a finger in her wet pussy. Irene began to wriggle. "What 
would you like me to do now?" 

"Fuck me," Irene said promptly. 

"Yeah? Where?" 

"In my cunt," Irene said with a quick surge of passion. "In my ass. In my 
mouth. Between my titties. Anywhere you can put that lovely thing." She 
reached out and closed her fingers around the sticky massivity of Norm's 
unflagging purple-headed penis. 

"Yeah, well," Norm pretended to grumble, "when do I get time to do the 
washing?" 

He rolled Irene onto her stomach. 

It had been easy. 

None of them would ever admit another female could do anything they couldn't 
do. 

So now they'd have a housewarming, and he and Milton King, whose dexterity 
he had come to admire, would have three lovely bodies to sandwich. 

Even looking down at Irene's anus right at that moment, as it lay exposed by 
his hands parting her delicately shaped bare hind cheeks so the 
tight-looking passageway winked up at his throbbing prick, Norm felt he 
could hardly wait for the first call to arms. 


End
