Blow Girl
by Heather Brown


FOREWORD 

Western man prides himself on his ability to forge his own destiny. And yet 
many people find they are not always able to rule their own fates. Often, a 
single, traumatic event will change and reshape their lives. 

There is the young girl who, after a brutal rape, becomes a bitter, frigid 
young woman. Or the bright, self-confident businessman who, after losing 
most of his money in a poor stock investment, becomes a drunken derelict. 

So too does fate play a tragic trick on Janis, the young girl who tells her 
own sad story in this book. A girl whose sexual drives are unusually 
powerful even before she reaches her teens, she becomes the unwitting victim 
of one man after another, and her life becomes a long string of broken 
promises and shattered dreams. 

And each time she is subjected to another crushing blow, she tries to bring 
her life back to normal-going to work, taking care of her home, performing 
the usual daily routine of a young American girl. But it is a hopeless task, 
for Janis is in reality the victim of her own overpowering sexual urges. 

A work of fiction for entertainment, yes, but also the chronicle of one 
young girl's pathetic struggle to find peace and happiness. A story that all 
too many of us will find familiar. 

-The Publisher 


Chapter One 

The man sitting in the restaurant booth across the aisle was handsome. Too 
handsome. Handsome enough to get me into trouble. 

My eyes met his, but before they did they took in his whole body, which was 
obviously rugged beneath the well-tailored clothes he was wearing. It was 
easy to see that he had broad shoulders and a sinewy torso tapering down 
into a slim waist under the paisley shirt and blue blazer he was wearing. 
What was even more interesting to me was the exciting bulge of his cock at 
the crotch of his form-fitting gray trousers. By the time he looked over my 
way, and our glances met, without even realizing it I had been licking my 
lips at the thought of a fresh cock. When he looked at me I suddenly became 
aware of what I was thinking, and how I was showing it, and I looked away in 
embarrassment, aware that my thoughts were written all over my face. Without 
being able to help jt I felt a sudden moistness ooze from my cunt. When I 
got home and changed I would discover that I had stained my third pair of 
panties in a week that way. 

My God, what's the matter with me? I wondered as I tried to look very 
interested in the menu while a voice in the back of my mind, and an urging 
in my dripping cunt, told me that it was the suggestion of a stranger's cock 
that really held my interest. I didn't even know the man, yet I was thinking 
how wonderful it would be to have him on top of my naked body with his prick 
up to the hilt in my throbbing cunt while I writhed beneath him with sheer 
desire and lust blotting out everything else. 

"Face the facts," Dolly, my co-worker, had said to me the day before, you're 
just plain sex hungry. You can't get enough." This was her response to the 
embarrassment I'd told her I'd felt a few minutes before when my body was 
pressed against a man's in an overcrowded elevator. I hadn't told her 
specifically that what had really stirred me up was that we had been pressed 
so close I could feel his warm, insistent cock pressing against my thigh 
between two layers of clothing, but it was obvious by what she'd said that 
she'd figured it out. 

The obvious truth of her words shook me, but I cried, "That's absurd, Dolly! 
I'm no nymphomaniac! And I can live without sex!" 

"Can you?" she asked jeeringly. As an answer I fled back to my desk and 
buried myself in the stack of work that had piled up over the last few days 
while I had been daydreaming up pulsating cocks ramming up my cunt, surging 
up my ass, spewing hot cum into my eager mouth-sometimes all at once. 

As I was trying to type, Dolly's "Can you?" replaced the usual parade of sex 
that went on in my mind and cruelly taunted me. Could I? I was no longer 
certain that I could, but I felt I had to find out. At twenty-two, with 
three wrecked marriages behind me, and other tragic relationships, the 
rational side of my thinking told me I'd had enough of love and its pain. 
When my last marriage had fallen apart I'd told myself I would live the rest 
of my life without any more emotional entanglements. I'd find fulfillment in 
other ways. When I got hot, when the lure of sex became too much for me, I 
would take care of it myself massaging my hungry clit to orgasm with my 
trusty vibrator, kneading the folds of my cunt into an explosion of damp 
ecstasy. However, my plans had gone awry because when I gave it to myself it 
just turned out to be a warm-up for my limitless desire. I would become so 
stimulated after masturbating I would frequently go out in the middle of the 
night looking for a man, any man, to fuck me. I usually succeeded, but I 
knew I was taking a terrible chance of being beaten up by some psycho, or, 
even worse, being picked up by the cops and charged with prostitution. 

Sitting in the restaurant and picking at my food which had just been served, 
I repeated my vow for probably the thousandth time and frantically wished I 
could control my hungry cunt. 

My resolve was being seriously threatened, however, by the steady gaze of 
the man in the booth across from me with the inviting bulge in his pants. I 
had stopped looking at him, but he was still looking at me. Why couldn't he 
look somewhere else? I thought. I couldn't just stare down at my plate 
through my entire lunch hour. I started to get very irritated with the man 
in the booth as I defensively shifted my anger at myself to him. He 
shouldn't have the right to ruin my lunch hour, I thought. 

I tried to concentrate on eating my lunch and managed to get it down without 
looking over his way once. But eventually I finished and he was still there, 
and as I started to get up from my table there was no choice but to face in 
his direction. I couldn't help but notice that he was smiling at me and had 
his right hand draped across his upper thigh, as though to emphasize the 
bulge of his cock beneath it. Calling on all of my self-control I tried to 
freeze him with a look of indifference, as though I didn't really notice 
him. It apparently worked because he lowered his eyes and a look of 
self-consciousness crossed his face. 

It occurred to me that it wasn't the first time I'd seen him. I had lunch in 
the same restaurant almost every weekday and he was often there at the same 
time. But this was the first time he had been seated so closely to me that I 
had a clear look at him. Now that I thought about it, it seemed to me that 
he had been watching me over a period of weeks, studying me when he thought 
I wouldn't notice. 

Well, maybe he'll quit now, I said to myself. Suddenly I wanted to get out 
of the restaurant and walk. I picked up my purse, the check, and walked 
briskly to the cashier. Standing before the cash register I was taking some 
money out of my wallet when a deep masculine voice said, "On a day like this 
it's too bad they don't have sidewalk tables." 

It was the man from the booth. "Yes," I agreed coolly, using the same tone 
of voice I'd have used if he'd been old and ugly. I topped off the effect by 
looking away, rejecting him. 

It was a sweltering day, really too hot for window shopping, but I still had 
thirty minutes left of my lunch hour. I was dressed for the weather, wearing 
a very light cotton dress with no bra and just my panties underneath. I 
could feel my body moving underneath the light clothing as I walked down the 
street, with my nipples straining and rubbing against the fabric, their 
outline sticking out as they became stimulated. I moved down the sidewalk 
slowly, trying to keep my mind a blank, but being unable to drive my 
awareness of my body out of my mind as I looked at the displays in the store 
windows. Pausing, I studied a see-through shortie nightgown in a window, 
thinking in spite of myself how I would look in it, imagining my full tits 
peeking trough the sheer lingerie with their bright-red nipples winking 
provocatively, and the hint of my silky dark cunt peering through the flimsy 
material. As I started to feel my cunt getting moist again I suddenly became 
aware that someone was standing near me. I sensed that it was the man from 
the restaurant and that he had been following me. I knew that I should walk 
away before I became hopelessly involved with a man again. 

Instead, I steeled myself for the moment he'd make an attempt to pick me up 
with some remark like, "I'll bet you'd look terrific in that negligee." Just 
the prospect of it sent chills up and down my spine since that, of course, 
was exactly what I had been thinking. 

He cleared his throat with a small attention getting sound. I turned, facing 
him, determined to cut him off sharply. 

"I'm Perry Middleton. I work in the broker's office across the street," he 
began, his voice nervous. "I know you're not the kind of girl a man should 
try and pick up, but I don't know anyone who could introduce us. I assure 
you that I'm perfectly respectable," he rushed on. "And I was wondering if 
you'd have lunch with me tomorrow." 

He actually seemed quite nice. Maybe I'd been wrong about him in the 
restaurant and I was just jumping to conclusions when I was gazing at the 
lump of his cock and immediately wound up with fucking on my mind. But I 
felt I shouldn't take a chance. I gave him a cool look. 

"Please, I know I'm out of line," he went on persistently, "but if you'll 
walk to my office with me, anyone there will tell you that I'm a 
respectable, decent guy who's not going to try anything funny with you." 

The idea of walking into his office and having him say, "Please, someone 
tell this girl I'm all right," stuck me as very funny. I couldn't help 
smiling. 

My smile was all the encouragement he needed. "We'll make it at the usual 
place." 

I surprised myself by giving in. "All right, lunch tomorrow at one." 

Jubilant, he repeated, "At one." 

"I have to get back to work now," I muttered, and walked off. 

On the way back I found myself thinking, before I could catch myself, maybe 
this will work out, after all. If that bulge in his pants meant anything 
he's got to be very well hung. Visions of eight or nine inches of rock-hard 
cock jutting out of a thatch of curly black hair danced in my mind. I could 
just picture spoonfuls of hot, sticky cum squirting out of it into my mouth, 
running my tongue over the swollen head of it, swallowing every drop. 

No, no, I said to myself. I've got to stop looking at men like this. If I'm 
going to have lunch with him it's going to be to prove that I can get to 
know a man for something besides flicking. I've got to do it. 

Sitting at my desk a few minutes later, mixed emotions raced through me. I 
was angry at my lack of will power; angry because I had said yes to a 
strange man, and troubled because after I had I had immediately begun to 
imagine fucking him. At the same time I was oddly exhilarated. And I was 
scared. It was an old familiar feeling. I tried to push the memories of the 
broken marriages and love affairs away, and with them all thoughts of the 
luncheon date. There was so much pain involved in the past, and so much 
potential pain in the future if I wasn't careful. But in contemplating the 
pain, I couldn't help but think of some of the pleasure, those long nights 
twisted in the sheets with the smell of sex permeating the room, fucking and 
sucking as if there were no tomorrow. But, unfortunately, there always did 
turn out to be a tomorrow, and it usually turned out to be filled with 
arguments, betrayal and, ultimately, grief. This time, I thought, tomorrow 
won't be that way. 

I went straight from the office to the children's hospital where I worked as 
a volunteer three nights a week. Somehow, working there seemed to be the 
only thing I had found that could get my mind off of sex for any length of 
time. 

When I got to the hospital I swallowed some coffee hurriedly, then reported 
in on the second floor. For the next three hours I moved from room to room, 
telling stories, soothing away tears, and tucking in for the night a dozen 
young children who had no visitors. The floor I was assigned to held only 
the abandoned and unwanted children. At first I'd thought it was cruel to 
separate them from the children whose parents hung anxiously over them, but 
later I came to realize it was really kindness. They didn't have to witness 
what they didn't have, and the hospital assigned three times as many 
volunteers to their rooms as they did to the others. 

We were encouraged to give of ourselves to the children. This was unique and 
very special in my life because it was my only opportunity to give myself to 
someone in a way other than just offering them my body. Instead of being 
concerned about my own needs and problems, when I was with the children I 
was able to take satisfaction in making them feel special instead of 
hedonistically satisfying myself. It was easy for me to do this in the 
hospital, but the instant I stepped outside I always seemed to be back on 
the same old sexual merry-go-round, looking for some anonymous cock to have 
stuck up inside my cunt so I'd feel like I was worth something. 

It was nine o'clock when I walked into my apartment, exhausted and hungry. I 
heated a can of soup, ate half of it, and crawled into a tub of hot water to 
soak away my fatigue. The instant I stretched out in the soothing water, I 
became aware of my naked body, of its smooth curves and flawless skin. Of my 
tits, weightlessly bobbing in the water. And of the water flooding my cunt 
with warmth. Without being conscious of it, my hand dropped between my legs 
and my fingers began to lazily massage my clitoris. As a sensual feeling 
began to overtake my body I abruptly remembered I had a date the next day. 
The date reminded me, for some reason, of my husbands, Jeff, Red, and Tom. I 
tried telling myself it was crazy to compare a luncheon date with my 
marriages. But it wasn't, and I knew it! Everything inside of me was 
sounding a bell of alarm, but, simultaneously, the pounding of my heart and 
the clenching of the muscles in my cunt were crying out for the thrill of a 
man inside me. 

I bathed quickly and got ready for bed. In the darkened room I tossed and 
turned, sleepless an afraid, but restless and horny. After a while, in my 
confusion and frustration, I began to cry for all of my childhood hopes and 
dreams. I was sure that none of them would ever come true because of the 
things that had happened to me back ten. 

Oh, Grandma, if only you had lived! I thought in despair. 

For the first ten years of my life Grandma had loved, protected, and guided 
me. She'd also kept me from feeling set apart or different because I had no 
father. I'd grown up with the knowledge that Margot, my beautiful mother, 
hadn't married the man who fathered me. I was illegitimate. 

Grandma, Margot and I had lived hr a small white house surrounded by 
fragrant blooms and rich green shrubs. When I was very young, I think I 
thought Grandma was my mother, since she was the one who tended my needs, 
gave me affection, and heard my prayers. I called her Mama until the day she 
died. 

Of course I knew that the beautiful woman I saw briefly each morning and 
occasionally evenings and weekends was actually my mother. But she never 
permitted me to call her that. Childlike, I was proud of Margot's beauty, 
but I never dreamed of being like her, the way most little girls dream of 
growing up to be just like their mothers. I dreamed of being just like 
Grandma: warm, tender, absorbed in her home and her granddaughter. 

Grandma used to tell me about my grandfather, who had died before I was 
born. He'd been tall and straight and handsome. How happy he'd made her. 
Later, I realized there was a purpose behind her warm stories. She wanted me 
to understand that when a man and a woman loved each other, they married and 
shared their hopes and disappointments. It was Grandma's way of trying to 
offset the effect of my very modern mother's way of life on my thinking. 
Maybe she would have succeeded if she had lived longer. But she didn't. 

I came home from school one day and found Grandma's motionless body beside a 
flower bed, the trowel she'd been using still in her hand. There was a small 
smile on her lips, and her eyes were open, but she was cold. So cold! I 
screamed when I touched her, and I went on screaming. Finally, a neighbor 
picked me up and carried me inside. 

Margot arrived about an hour later, crying. I'd never seen her cry before. I 
flung myself against her, and we clung to each other, more like sisters than 
like a mother comforting her daughter. 

Margot turned twenty-five the day after Grandma died. The man she was dating 
brought her a cake. I counted the candles on it, not thinking anything of 
the fact that she was only fifteen years older than I. 

Margot sold Grandma's little white house with its beautiful garden about a 
month later, and we moved into a third-floor apartment in a new, modem 
building. Her life didn't change much. She went on working every day and 
going out practically every night. For a while I felt lost and very lonely, 
without direction. Evenings were the worst. All too often I ate dinner 
alone, did my schoolwork, watched television, then went to bed, not knowing 
when Margot would come home. I felt like I was eighty instead of ten, that 
my life was over. Little did I know! 

Loneliness made me start to daydream about Margot getting married and my 
having brothers and sisters and a father. I started really looking at the 
men she dated, trying to decide which of them I'd most want for my father. I 
liked several of them, but when Lou started staying overnight a couple of 
times a week, I decided he'd do nicely. He liked me and brought me small 
gifts when he brought Margot something. When I went to bed he'd kiss me good 
night and tell me not to forget my prayers. Later, hearing Lou's and 
Margot's soft voices and smothered laughter from the room next to mine, I'd 
fall asleep quickly, certain that my dreams were about to come true. 

One evening I was home alone while Margot was off someplace. I was watching 
television when there was a knock on the door. Margot had given me explicit 
instructions never to open the door when I was home alone, but she had never 
spelled out why, and I was so lonely the prospect of being around another 
person, even a stranger, was exciting to me. 

I answered the door and saw that it was Lou. "I thought you were out with 
Margot," I said over the chain lock that permitted the door to open a few 
inches. 

"Uh, no," he said. "Well, uh, I was, but something came up that, uh, she had 
to take care of, so I came back here to wait for her. Do you mind if I come 
in?" In all of my ten-year-old innocence I thought nothing of it and undid 
the chain and let him in, and went back to the couch in front of the 
television set. 

Lou stood in the middle of the room and asked, "Do you mind if I sit down 
next to you?" 

"Why?" I said, "You want to watch television with me?" 

"No," he said, "I thought we might sit and talk. You know, I've never gotten 
the chance to know you as well as I'd like because I'm always busy with your 
mother." 

This approach was, of course, irresistible to me. He was interested in me! 
It seemed to me in my naivete that he wanted to be my father. I blurted out, 
"Are you going to marry Margot and be my daddy?" 

"Well, maybe," he said, "but first we've got to get to know each other. I 
want us to get to know each other very well." 

"Okay." 

"I'll show you something very special if you'll turn off the TV," he said 
soothingly. 

"Oh, goodie," I said, getting up to turn off the set. "What are you going to 
show me? I just love surprises." I turned around to walk back to the couch 
from the television. It was then that I saw he was unbuttoning his pants. I 
knew there was a difference between men and women down there, but I wasn't 
quite sure what it was. The idea that Lou was going to show me made me very 
interested. I blurted out, "Are you going to show me your. . . your thing?" 

"Uh, well, .." he stammered. He seemed nervous. I couldn't understand why. 

"That's all right," I said cheerfully, "I'd love to see it." 

"Okay, then come over here, little one," he said as he finished unbuttoning 
his pants and stuck his hand inside the opening and pulled out his cock. It 
was long and curved with a bright-red knob on the end of it. I was 
astonished that it could be so big. 

"Doesn't it hurt you walking around with it inside your pants?" I asked. 

"No," he laughed, "it's not always this big. It only gets like this when I'm 
around someone I like, and I like you very much." 

I was thrilled that he liked me. This opened a whole new door to me, a way I 
would be able to see if a man liked me, a wonderful surprise for a lonely 
little girl. "Can I touch it?" I asked. 

"Of course. I wish you would," he said eagerly. 

I leaned over him and ran my little fingers over his cock, lingering here 
and there, tracing my fingers along the outline of the huge pulsating vein 
that ran up its shaft, and then circling the throbbing tip of it. Then I 
noticed a little drop of moisture had appeared out of the small slit at the 
end of it. "Oh, what's that?" I said with alarm. "You're leaking." 

He laughed again. "Na, I'm not leaking. I'm trying to show you how much I 
like you. When I like someone, not only does it grow, but makes a special 
milk if I really like someone in an extra-special way. 

I was fascinated by what he was saying, but even more by the huge column of 
flesh twitching between his legs. My little cunt began to tighten and I 
absent-mindedly began to rub it, which made it feel even better. 

Suddenly I became aware of what I was doing and blushed. "Don't worry," he 
reassured me, "that's the way you're supposed to feel down there when you 
like somebody. The way you feel just means you like me as much as I like 
you. Why don't we take off our clothes and I'll show you." 

I hesitated a moment, but the lure of acceptance, of somebody liking me for 
myself alone, was too much for me to resist. "Okay," I agreed as I quickly 
shucked off my sneakers and stepped out of my checkered dress and white 
cotton underpants. I stood naked in front of him, my ten-year-old body 
panting with excitement, my hairless, inexperienced cunt feeling strangely 
hot and wet at the same time. 

Lou was naked now, all six feet of him, with swirls of dark curly hair on 
his chest working down into a dark clump at his crotch from which his 
quivering cock insistently protruded. 

Lou pulled me to the couch, and picking me up, placed my body so that it 
straddled his head and pushed my cunt against his mouth. His tongue shot 
into my warm, damp honey pat and I could feel strange juices flowing from my 
palpitating slit. He located the hard little nub of my clitoris and pushed 
his tongue against it. My ass was rolling sound an his face, and as I felt 
the thrilling suction of his mouth on my little clit, I went into a frenzied 
spasm. My body shook and my legs stiffened. The only thing in my experience 
that had compared with the feeling was when I had to go to the bathroom 
badly and had held it for a long time and then felt the relief of finally 
going. Almost automatically I raised myself up just a trifle and started to 
piss. Lou felt the liquid oozing out and opened his mouth wide to swallow 
the golden stream that gushed from my wide-open cunt. 

Then Lou slid out from under me. At first I thought there was something 
wrong, but when he placed me on my back and started kissing me all over, all 
my restraint and hesitation left me. As if some voice in the back of my mind 
was telling me what to do next, I wiggled into a position so that Lou could 
mouth my cunt. I didn't know if the feeling of wetness between my legs was 
coming from Lou's mouth or from inside of me, but II loved it, and the 
wetness was growing. I began to shake and my crotch bumped hard against his 
mouth. I could see by the expression on Lou's face that he was suddenly 
scared, but he raised his head and when he saw a smile on my face he smiled 
back. 

"Would you like to suck me?" he said. 

I couldn't think of any other answer but "Okay." If this was what having a 
father was like, I loved it. 

We repositioned ourselves and he lay back on the couch. Somehow, I just knew 
instinctively what to do. I slid my tongue along the length of his cock and 
gently nibbled at the skin. Then I lapped his balls, then took the head of 
his cock into my mouth and began sucking. I tried in vain to get the whole 
length of his cock into my tiny mouth but couldn't. But I could tell by the 
way he was moaning and writhing it made no difference. Suddenly, feeling 
adventurous, I kept his prick in my mouth and shifted around so that I could 
straddle Lou's face, placing my hot little cunt against his mouth while I 
kept sucking. He opened his mouth and I began to piss again. He took every 
drop and kept his tongue busy in my gooey, sloppy cunt. His tongue worked 
avidly in my cunt. My hips were churning. I could feel his cock growing even 
harder in my mouth. Something dribbled from it into my mouth, which was, I 
was quickly to learn, a hint of the cascade of burning sticky cum that 
spurted forth in another second in delicious spasms. As the jism spewed into 
my eager mouth, my body shuddered and stiffened to the exploding of a 
million rockets and slowly sailed a million miles into space. 

When I regained my senses, Lou was getting dressed in a hurry. "I thought 
you were going to wait for Margot?" I asked. 

"I just remembered there's something I have to do," he said breathlessly. 
"Listen," he went on; "your mother might be angry if she found out I was 
here and didn't wait, so why don't we let the fact I was here just be our 
little secret?" 

I just smiled, rolled over on the couch, and closed my eyes, basking in the 
glow of the ecstasy I felt. Once he was gone I cleaned up, put on my 
pajamas, brushed my teeth, and went to bed and dreamed of the excitement of 
our bodies and the thrill of playing with his enormous cock that seemed to 
say, "I like you." 

 Chapter Two 

Lou abruptly went out of Margot's life, and mine, too. I was disappointed at 
first, but something told me that whatever happened from there on in, I 
would never be lonely again. I was confident that others would like me the 
way Lou had. 

A few weeks after Lou left the scene he was followed by Paul, and then 
another, and another. What Margot didn't know was that as she was going 
through man after man, her daughter was doing the same-and with the same 
men! 

After my initial encounter with Lou, which I had played by instinct, 
experiences with other men broadened my horizons. After all, despite the 
things Lou and I had done, I still was technically a virgin because we 
hadn't actually fucked. It was with Paul, the man just after Lou, that I 
first experienced the thrill of a rock-hard cock pumping furiously inside 
me; the lips of my cunt squeezing the last drop of man cream out of an 
ejaculating prick as it shot its gooey load into me. 

I had had to put the make on Paul since he wasn't as forward as Lou. I 
waited until Margot was out by herself one evening and looked up his phone 
number and called him. I told him that I was home alone and scared and that 
he was the only one I trusted enough to call to sit with me until Margot 
returned. 

I was learning fast because it only took me about ten minutes to get him 
with his pants off and his cock, which was even bigger than Lou's, staring 
in my face. In no time at all, I had straddled his cock and he could feel 
the slippery, hairless lips of my cunt on his prick as I slowly lifted and 
lowered my body on his stiff shaft. I rolled my little asscheeks around on 
Paul's hairy crotch the same way I had done on Lou's face, my cunt muscles 
tightening their grip on his stiff cock. I worked my hips up and down in a 
frenzy as he just lay back and let me do all the work, which I was more than 
willing to do. It took about three minutes, and when he came inside me the 
sensation was too much. After he had shot his load of cum I still kept 
moving. I wanted more. However, he made a motion to get up. 

"I've got to piss," he said. 

"Don't worry, Paul," I said. "I'll take care of that." I got off his loins 
and bent over his crotch and took his cock into my mouth. He tried to pull 
away, but I kept my mouth around his throbbing dick until he couldn't hold 
back. A stream of piss burst from his hard cock, and I almost gagged as it 
surged down my throat. It came so fast that it was running down my chin onto 
my flat little-girl's chest, and down my belly. After that he had to flick 
me again, and again! 

As time went by and I began to approach my teenage years, the kids at school 
started to talk about sex in self-conscious whispers. I started to realize 
that there was supposed to be something shameful about the kind of 
relationships Margot had with the men who stayed in our apartment. This 
troubled me, not so much for Margot's sake, but for my own. These men were 
my link to the rest of the world, the proof that I was worth something and 
that somebody liked me, my guarantee against loneliness. They made me feel 
good because they not only said they like me, they showed it! How could 
something that seemed so necessary to me be wrong? The men in Margot's 
life-and in mine-were everything wrapped into one: proof that I was somebody 
that people could like, and the substance of the continuing dream of a 
father and brothers and sisters. The men went on changing, but the dream and 
my own needs remained the same. 

By the time I was a teenager, my daydreams had started to change. There had 
been an endless succession of men, but it was clear that Margot was never 
going to settle down with any one of them. My fantasies about a family were 
altered. Now, I projected myself into the future, imagining myself with a 
husband and my own children, although strangely enough, I didn't connect 
this dream with sex. Although I didn't realize it at the time, I had 
gradually made the decision that I wanted all the men for myself, that I no 
longer wanted to share them, with Margot or anyone. 

Meanwhile, I had come to accept Margot as she was-a beautiful amoral woman. 
I can't honestly say I was ashamed of her. She was reasonably discreet about 
her affairs, and outwardly gave the appearance of being a perfect lady. 
Besides, her affairs with men provided me with a steady source of 
satisfaction which kept me from being lonely. And just as she gave the 
outward impression of being a lady, I gave the outward impression of being 
an innocent child. Still, something inside me made me not want to pattern my 
life after hers. It was disturbing to me that as I got older the resemblance 
between us became startling. I had her tall, curvaceous body, her green 
eyes, and her pale-blonde hair, even on my cunt where it had started to 
sprout. On the other hand, it quickly became apparent as I became a teenager 
that I attracted boys the way she attracted men, and this opened up 
fascinating opportunities to me. 

Until I was eighteen, I had never fucked anyone who wasn't a grown man and 
one of Margot's lovers. However, the boys had started to hang around me at 
school, begging for dates. As I had a steady supply of males at home, I 
turned them all down. Fucking Margot's boyfriends was all pleasure and no 
emotional risk. As I had long since figured out that none of them was going 
to stay around for very long, I didn't have to worry about any of them 
getting tired of me and risking any sort of disapproval. Each one liked me 
and then was replaced by somebody else who liked me just as much. Also, each 
one was teaching me new things. 

However, as the boys continued to buzz around me I became more and more 
aware of them in spite of myself. I started looking at them in a new way, 
increasingly becoming aware of the bulges in the crotches of their tight 
jeans. Soon my daydreams included imagining what this one would be like in 
bed, picturing what that one's cock looked like when it was hard. It was 
around this time that I met Jeff. 

I was the same age, at eighteen, that Margot had been when she had gotten 
involved with my father and pregnant with me, although the irony of it 
escaped me at the time. Jeff was a couple of years older than I was, a 
senior, and sat across from me in the study hall. I'd seen him from a 
distance all the way through school. He was the star runner on the track 
team. He was also an A student. He wasn't exactly good-looking, but he was 
tall and muscular and only had a little bit of acne. Half the girls in 
school seemed to be vying for his attention. Still, until we met, he hadn't 
dated much. And I, even though I had been sucking on cocks, and had had them 
stuck up every orifice of my body for four and a half years, was a social 
virgin. 

Jeff was the first boy to whom I was attracted as an individual, and he was 
as attracted to me as I was to him. We made a Saturday-night date the first 
day we met. That night, at dinner, I told Margot excitedly about Jeff. 

"You'll be wild about him!" I cried. "He's terrific! I just melted when he 
looked at me." 

"Well, it's about time some boy interested you," Margot laughed. "I was 
beginning to think your grandmother's old-fashioned ideas had made you 
frigid." 

The blood rushed to my face, but not for the reason Margot assumed. 
Suddenly, I didn't want to talk with Margot about Jeff any more. 

"Look, kitten," she said, her tone becoming serious and concerned. "I know I 
haven't been much of a mother to you, but better late than never. I'd like 
to give you some advice. Don't take any chances. And I mean not any! Just 
ask me, J can tell you how easy it is to get pregnant." 

I was shocked. Pregnant? It had never entered my mind. Sure, I knew how 
babies were made, but it hadn't occurred to me that it could happen to me. 
In all of the fucking I had done I had never taken any precautions. Margot's 
warning shocked me into reality, and I resented her for doing it. 

She was trying to be diplomatic and said, "Now, I'm certainly not saying 
that you plan to go to bed with this boy, but that's what I thought the 
night you were conceived. But, thank God, the pill's available now! Maybe 
you'd better see Dr. Gray and get a prescription." 

Suddenly, I was no longer a child, feeling free to do whatever I pleased. I 
became acutely aware for the first time that I was a young woman, and there 
were potential consequences to my actions. I can't let this happen to me, I 
thought in a panic. I can't get pregnant! I can't wind up like Margot! I 
stared at her, feeling sudden revulsion. I pushed away from the table. "I'm 
not like you," I choked, blinded by my tears. "Grandma didn't make me 
frigid, but she did teach me right from wrong." 

"Hear! Hear!" Margot retorted, more amused than angry. "Hail the fair maiden 
with her marvelous, untried moral standards!" 

"Don't make fun of me!" I cried out. "I am decent, the way Grandma was, and 
I will be decent," Margot's attitude confused me into turning the issue 
completely around in my mind. I was resentful that she had shocked me into 
concern over getting pregnant. And my concern over not winding up like her 
forced me into a position where I began to defend the innocence which she 
attributed to me, but which I actually didn't have. At that moment, I made 
the decision that I was going to be everything that Margot wasn't, and made 
the immediate decision that sex was out from now on, now that I was a proper 
young lady. 

"I appreciate your high moral plane," Margot said, "but take my advice and 
see Dr. Gray-just in case." 

"Never!" I screamed, and I ran to my room, slamming the door. I was 
determined to prove I was not the kind of girl who needed to be concerned 
about things like birth control pills. 

I fell in love with Jeff on our first date, and I could tell he felt the 
same way about me. He held my hand all through the movie and, later, while 
we were sipping our malts, he didn't take his eyes off my face. 

"You're so beautiful," he said in a husky, awed voice. 

"Thank you," I whispered. For the first time I was glad I'd inherited 
Margot's beauty. 

"You will go out with me again, won't you?" he asked anxiously. 

"Oh, yes!" I dried, then added, "Any time you say." 

"Maybe we could go swimming tomorrow," he said eagerly. "That is, if you 
like swimming in the ocean." 

"There's a pool at our apartment house," I suggested happily. 

"That's super!" he said, and just sat devouring me with his eyes. 

Jeff kissed me good night at the door. It was a swift, self-conscious kiss 
that didn't last more than a second, but it was the first good-night kiss on 
my first date, and it was beautiful. At that moment it seemed more 
overpowering than all of the raw sex in the world. But that night I dreamed 
of Jeff, and in a dream over which I had no control things developed far 
beyond a chaste good-night kiss. It was a wild dream. He held me in his 
arms, kissing me the way the man and woman do in the movies, long and 
deeply. There was even music in the background. Then, abruptly, the music 
stopped. Jeff pulled himself back to arm's length and said, "Look at me," 
and suddenly there were three of him, all naked with huge stiff cocks. 

Feeling my nipples becoming erect and my crotch tightening, I looked down at 
myself and discovered I was now completely nude, also. The three Jeffs 
advanced toward me, their cocks getting bigger all the time. I screamed in 
terror, but some unseen force was controlling my body and forced it down on 
its back, spread eagling its legs so that my smoldering cunt beckoned with 
its throbbing, dripping lips obscenely wide open. 

The three of them took me all at once, one of them fucking my cunt all the 
way to the hilt, another ramming his giant prick all the way to his balls in 
my tight ass, and the third sitting on my face and forcing his cock down my 
throat. In the dream they all withdrew their cocks from me at once, and 
ejaculated endless gobs of jism on my face and tits. 

I placed my hands in the pools of cum and rubbed it wildly all over me, 
licking my lips to get whatever I could in my mouth, massaging it into my 
hair, rubbing handfuls of it over my tits and belly, smearing it into the 
curls of my cunt hair. Then, sticking my gooey fingers wherever there was an 
opening-in my mouth, my eyes, my ears, my belly button, my ass, my cunt-I 
writhed my way to an incredible orgasm that only ended when I abruptly woke 
up alone in my bed, my cunt drenched and the air filled with the smell of 
sex. 

I was both incredibly turned on and incredibly frightened. All of a sudden 
the date with Jeff the next day seemed threatening to me. But, after getting 
myself together, I told myself that it was only a dream, and nothing could 
make me do anything on the date the next day I didn't want to. Finally, I 
went back to sleep. 

I had on my bathing suit when Jeff arrived the next afternoon. Margot and 
her current man had gone somewhere for the day. When I opened the door, Jeff 
stared at me, speechless, his face flushed. 

"Come in," I said. "My mother's out, but it's all right. You do have your 
bathing trunks?" It was a stupid question, since I could see he had them in 
his hand, but with all the pressure I was under after the previous night's 
dream, I was nervous. 

He nodded that he had his trunks. 

"You can change in the bathroom," I said, sounding breathless. 

I was beginning to understand exactly what that dream was trying to tell me. 
Sudden, unexpected attraction between a boy and a girl can be dynamite when 
they're alone. After a few minutes alone it was already that way between 
Jeff and me. We were both aware of its force, and neither of us knew how to 
control it. It made us self-conscious, and at the same time it drew us 
together magnetically. 

When Jeff emerged from the bathroom in his swimming trunks there was no way 
I couldn't help but notice the bulge of his cock and balls in them. Then, 
downstairs, in the heated pool, our bodies kept coming together and the 
insistent bulge of his hard cock kept pushing and brushing against me. We'd 
cling for a moment, his prick feeling as tough it were trying to tear 
through the cloth that was keeping it from jutting free. We would break 
apart, both of us apparently aware of how closely we were tempting fate. 
But, then, after a while, we would be touching again. Finally, we got out of 
the pool and lay down on the deck, looking at one another but saying little. 
It was around five when we went up to change. 

"It was fun, wasn't it?" I asked as I opened the door. 

Jeff nodded, and as soon as we were inside, he kissed me, just like he had 
in my dream. Our nearly nude bodies clung together, and I felt the most 
beautiful, demanding, frightening rush of desire I'd ever known. I didn't 
know whether to pull away or press closer. I had to call upon all of my 
self-control to resist slipping my hand into his trunks and wrapping my 
shaking fingers around his stiff cock. When the kiss ended, I had a hard 
time breathing. 

Just as I was getting myself composed, Jeff grabbed me again and started a 
second kiss that was even more passionate than the first. His cock seemed so 
hard against me that I couldn't help but wonder if it was not out of his 
trunks. The temptation grew too great to resist and this time I moved my 
hand down to his groin. The swelling was immense. I rubbed my hand over the 
straining cotton of his bathing suit and then slid it down under the elastic 
at the top. I cupped his hot balls and the base of his cock in my hand and 
began a pulsating squeeze. He moaned in pleasure and I knew there was no 
turning back. 

From my experience I knew that all men luxuriate in the feeling of being 
pampered, especially one so young and inexperienced as Jeff. I began to 
strip off his trunks, slowly, lovingly, sensually, with all of the erotic 
soul I could summon. I put my hands inside his suit and began slowly pulling 
the trunks down as I pushed against him with my hips. The maddening friction 
between his cock and my undulating body was driving him crazy. 

I held him close like that for a moment or two, rubbing against him gently 
as his trunks fell to the floor and his steel prick rammed against my 
stomach. I put my hands around his ass and started to ply and knead the 
bottom curves of his exposed asscheeks. 

I motioned for Jeff to lie down on his back, and when he started to say 
something I shushed him. When he was supine I started massaging him with my 
fingertips, concentrating on the area between his knees and his waist. I 
spread his legs and gently stroked the sensitive inside of his thighs. Oh, 
he was such a beautiful boy, with a slight tan, freckles on his shoulders, 
and no hair on him except under his arms and framing his long, slim cock 
that protruded up from his groin at a forty-five-degree angle. 

I continued to massage him, working ever closer to his crotch. I ran my 
finger down the little crease between his balls and his thigh. He shuddered 
with pleasure as I eased my teasing finger under him and began playing with 
his asshole. Exploring it, tickling it, I was driving him crazy with 
pleasure as he elevated his ass for greater access and I probed his bunghole 
for a moment with an inch of my finger. 

Placing my face down to his loins while I continued with my hands, I used my 
tongue to investigate the furrow between his puckering asshole and the 
underside of his balls. As I licked his balls, I used one hand to squeeze 
them gently, while the fingers of my other hand played in the thatch of his 
pubic hair. 

Finally, I went down on his gorgeous palpitating cock and sucked it and 
licked it until it was completely drenched, then massaged the moisture into 
the shaft with my busy hands. He was going nuts. Just as he'd reach the 
breaking point, I would briefly take his whole prick into my mouth and slide 
up and down on it, from the tip to the base, before I resumed the maddening 
massage. 

Just when he seemed about ready to pass out from the urgency of his passion, 
I began to bathe him all over with my darting tongue. I licked the base of 
his rampant cock, his swollen balls, the insides of his thighs, the furrows 
and creases surrounding his cock and balls, and, last, but not least, the 
red rose of his asshole. 

At this point his moans had become so piteous that I had to stop playing 
with his beautiful young body and give him what he wanted. Taking his fiery 
prick into my mouth down to the hair, I felt it press warmly against my 
throat. Then I slid my lips back up to the tip, and then sucked it back down 
a second time. Meanwhile, my hands fondled his balls and fiddled with his 
asshole. My mouth revolved as I moved up and down the length of his cock. On 
about the fourth or fifth swallow I could feel his prick expand even more in 
my mouth. I knew that the explosion wouldn't be long in coming. I held his 
cock deeply in my mouth and throat a second longer than usual because I knew 
he was going to come now and I wanted to be sure I caught every drop. A 
torrent of scalding jism pounded into my throat, causing me to gag in 
ecstasy as I was almost choked by the bubbling man milk. 

When it was all over, between gasps for breath Jeff turned to me and panted, 
"Where did you learn that?" As an answer I put my fingers to my lips, 
telling him to be quiet, and went back to working on his prick again. He'd 
had his satisfaction, now I was going to prime him up again so he could lick 
me off and throw a fuck in me so I could get my jollies. 

I stood up and kicked off my bathing suit in a flash, and then came down on 
him with my knees at each side of his head and my moist cunt staring him in 
the face as I hunched over and started arousing his flaccid prick with my 
busy mouth. He seemed so inexperienced that he undoubtedly had never 
sixty-nined before, but, apparently, instinct Was guiding him, for he 
quickly pushed his face into the hairy swamp of my waiting cunt spread 
widely in front of him and began lashing his tongue into my slit. I took his 
cock which was starting to show definite signs of renewed life and proceeded 
to lick the sides of it as he licked my cunt. I took pains to keep my rhythm 
and tempo even with his. 

He ate my cunt expertly, considering that this was very likely his first 
experience at it. His tongue was warm and wet in the right way on the right 
spot. As I kissed and lightly sucked his prick, I could feel small spasms 
occurring within me. I knew these were merely previews to the wild climax I 
would be having soon. 

As we sucked and licked each other's cock and cunt, I slowly lowered my 
haunches completely so that I was sitting flush on his face, smothering him 
with my randy, pulsating gash. I could tell by the way he redoubled his 
licking and teasing and tongue action that he loved it. I moved my hips in a 
sensuous circular motion and expanded and contracted my stomach muscles so 
that my cunt would breathe in his face, and suck the spit from his drooling 
mouth. 

Finally, I was worked up to a fever pitch and could stand waiting no longer. 
I had to fuck! I had to have his cock pumping away inside my cunt. 
Fortunately, it was once again as hard as a rock, thanks to my inventive 
playing with it and my searing cunt in his face. I got off him and flopped 
on to my back with my legs bent at the knees and as far apart as I could 
spread them, my smoldering slobbering cunt crying to be fucked. 

Jeff mounted me. He had trouble finding my hole, but I wrapped my hand 
around that steel cock of his and expertly guided it into my hungry snatch, 
instantly tightening my cunt muscles so that he was locked in. I breathed a 
sigh of relief as he started moving his prick back and forth in me. It was 
harder than steel and hotter than fire. I felt like it was going to split me 
in two as he pumped me more and more furiously and my ass rolled recklessly 
as his dick rubbed the walls of my viselike cunt. 

"Oh, God!" I cried. "Fuck me! Fuck me harder!" 

He responded by pumping even harder in me, his stiff prick causing 
unbelievable friction in all the right places. 

"That's the way," I moaned. "Keep your cock going inside of me! Give it to 
me, please, I've got to have every inch of it! Oooooh, that's good!" I cried 
as be went even deeper into my throbbing cunt. 

Increasing the ante, I slid my hand between the tangle of our bodies and 
began to squeeze his balls. I wanted him to really explode! I wanted every 
drop of cum he had to be sucked up by my ravenous cunt. 

Then I felt he was ready, and so was I. His breathing became labored. He 
penetrated even further as he grabbed me by the cheeks of my ass and pulled 
my body even closer to his. I could feel his cock choking with jism ready to 
explode. Just when I sensed he was going to blow, I stabbed my finger to the 
knuckle up his asshole, and with that an onslaught of cum flowed into my 
cunt. The orgasm was like a blinding flash, taking me to the edge of 
unconsciousness and back again several times. 

When it was over we lay side by side for a while, our bodies glistening with 
perspiration, cum, and cunt juice. Finally, I reached over and kissed him, 
and got up and went into the bathroom and took a shower. It was reluctantly 
that I washed his wonderful jism from my cunt. After I was finished 
showering, I went to my bedroom and dressed. When I came back into the 
living room he was sitting on the couch with his pants and shirt on, pulling 
on his sneakers. 

"You want something to eat?" he asked boyishly. 

"That would be great," I said, "I'm starved." 

 Chapter Three 

After our torrid beginning, Jeff and I found it impassible to control 
ourselves. At first it was only once a week or so, but after a while our 
restraint was completely gone and we were fucking whenever the opportunity 
presented itself. To rationalize that I had gone back on my word to myself I 
called it love. 

All this time, my reaction to Margot's advice when I first met Jeff still 
prevailed. As a matter of principle I refused to consider birth control 
pills. Of course when I had originally made that stand, I was sure that I 
was not going to be having sex with Jeff. Despite the fact that Jeff and I 
were fucking regularly, I still avoided even thinking about birth control 
because, in my mind, that would have given Margot the last laugh on me. 

I didn't give it another thought until I missed my period one month. I was 
panic-stricken. I didn't want to tell Jeff because he would feel responsible 
and insist we get married, which would mean no college for him. I was in a 
complete quandary. The idea of abortion occurred to me, but it seemed like 
murder to me, and, besides, I didn't know where to start as to going about 
getting one. On the other hand, the idea of actually going scared me out of 
my wits. 

Jeff could tell when we were together that something was wrong. I was quiet 
and withdrawn and passive about everything. I think he was just about ready 
to guess what had happened when as suddenly as the problem had started, it 
ended. We were swimming one afternoon and I had just gotten out of the pool 
and was drying myself. "What's that on your suit?" he asked. 

My period! I couldn't believe it. I was never so happy to see anything in my 
life as I clapped my hands and whooped for joy. 

Jeff must have thought I was crazy, being so deliriously happy about ruining 
my bathing suit. However, what had happened quickly registered with him as 
he said, "You were afraid you were pregnant, weren't you? That's why you've 
been so quiet lately." 

I nodded my head in assent. 

"Why didn't you tell me?" he implored. "If you had been pregnant, it would 
be my responsibility as much as yours." 

"I just didn't want to burden you with it," I explained. "I didn't want to 
hold you back from your dream of going to college and law school." 

"You let me be the judge of that," he insisted. 

"But we don't need to worry about it," I said happily, "because it's all 
over now." 

"But it could happen again," he said seriously. "If we're going to keep on 
like we have you'll have to go to a doctor and get some birth control pills 
or something." 

Despite my close call, the idea still repelled me. "No," I said, "I don't 
feel ready to do that." 

"Why not?" 

"I just can't, Jeff," I said firmly, and left it at mother. It was such a 
personal thing, I felt he couldn't possibly understand. 

"Then what will we do?" he asked. "We can't take the chance of you getting 
pregnant." 

"Don't you see?" I said, talking as fast as I could think. "This gives us 
the chance to see if we really love each other, or whether it's just 
physical attraction we have for each other. If we can stay together and keep 
loving each other without going all the way, then we'll know our love for 
each other is real." 

He was stunned. He didn't seem to like it, but he agreed to go along with it 
because he was as crazy about me as he had been the day we met. 

For the next month our physical relationship was limited to holding hands 
and brief kisses. Then one night we were parked on a dead-end road in the 
foothills. It was the kind of situation we had been trying to avoid, but we 
had just stumbled into it without thinking. We had been to a party, one of 
those dimly lit rumpus room parties that someone at school was always 
throwing. There'd been beer and soft music and kids openly necking up a 
storm. Jeff had suggested leaving at eleven, and we'd driven around awhile 
after we'd left because it was a hot night and the breeze from the moving 
car felt good through the open windows. Jeff had driven up that dead-end 
road without saying a word. The instant he turned off the motor he started 
kissing me. There'd been something different about him all evening; he was 
tense and wound up. 

As he kissed me he started moving his hands over my body. He began repeating 
my name over and over again in a low moan. "Please," he begged, "I'm burning 
up inside. My nuts feel like they're going to explode. Please, just once. 
You want it 

"I can't," I protested. "You know I'm not using anything. We've already 
decided we can't take the risk of me getting pregnant." 

"I'll pull out at the last minute, just before I come," he promised. 
"Please." 

He was right. I did want to! Every nerve in my body was quivering with my 
desire, especially my cunt. I was hypnotized, mindless, my pussy aching for 
the flicking that it craved and had been deprived of for weeks. My breath 
escaped in a soft moan and I let myself go. But only for a moment! 

Jeff was pulling at my clothes when the memory of Margot crashed across my 
mind-Margot teasing me to take the pill; Margot getting pregnant at fifteen. 
I remembered the men in her life, her promiscuity. I wouldn't be like her. I 
wouldn't! 

"No, Jeff!" I cried. "Stop! I can't! I won't!" I jerked away, and then he 
tried to pull me back. I sobbed and beat at him with my fists. 

Finally, he fell away from me. Groaning, he covered his face with his hands. 
"I'm sorry," he muttered. 

"I'm sorry, too," I whispered miserably. "I wish we could do it, because I 
love you." 

"And II love you," he cried. "That's just it. I love you so much I can't 
stand it if I don't have you." 

"Maybe we should stop seeing each other," I said hesitantly, knowing if he 
agreed I'd probably die of a broken heart. 

"I can't stop seeing you! You're all I think about, all I want!" 

"I didn't mean forever," I whispered. "Only until we're old enough to get 
married." 

"Married," he repeated as though the word, the thought, were new to him. 
Suddenly, he laughed. "Not when we're older," he said urgently. "Now. In a 
few days. We could drive across the state line. marry me?" 

All at once we had an answer to the tearing need between us. "Yes!" I cried. 
"Oh, yes, Jeff! Yes!" 

He let out a whoop and then hugged me. This time when he started running his 
hands over me I didn't stop him, even when one of them crept up my thigh. I 
reclined against the car door as he pulled up my skirt and slip and pulled 
open my legs, running his hand over the dampening crotch of my panties. Then 
he snaked a finger inside the elastic band around the V of my crotch and 
began fingering my steaming cunt as I started undulating my hips. 

Jeff pulled off my panties and forced his head between my legs, furiously 
licking my cunt. The spit from his foaming mouth ran into my pussy as his 
face was moistened with my accumulating juice. 

"No, no," I murmured, "not in the car. Let's do it outside on the grass." 

We wordlessly got out of the car and settled on a patch of grass. He was in 
such a hurry he didn't bother to take off his pants, just pulling his raging 
cock out of his fly with his balls resting on the zipper. As I lay on the 
ground he threw my skirt over my hips as I spread my legs and arched my 
back, opening the lips of my drooling cunt as far as possible so he could 
plunge his trembling cock into me. 

His loins fell into the trap of my thighs as he shoved his cock up my cunt. 
I wanted it so bad, I was so starved for a monster orgasm, even his sizable 
prick wasn't enough for me. I placed my own hand at the point where our 
pelvises met and began frigging my clit as he fucked me furiously. With the 
other hand I reached around and cupped his balls. Sensing that I was 
exceptionally horny, other hand to ram a finger all the way up my asshole. 
My senses were deliriously charged: I felt like I was going to shit, piss, 
and come all at once, and wished I would. 

The symphony of carnal motion continued as our bodies brought each other to 
new heights of passion. When we reached the brink of orgasm, Jeff pulled his 
cock out of my cunt and moved it toward my sweating face. Quickly catching 
on, I engulfed it in my eager mouth, and grabbed it with my hand and started 
stroking his cock to finish the job. Immediately a flood of scalding cum 
drenched my teeth and tongue, filling the inside of my mouth. I gulped it 
down my throat in sheer bliss as his hand kneaded my clit to the point of 
explosion and I came with millions of sparks flashing in my head as the last 
glob of jism slid down my throat. If this was what marriage was going to be 
like, I was going to love it, I thought, as his wonderful prick started to 
grow limp in my mouth. 

Our decision to get married was on a Friday, and by the next evening we were 
man and wife. Jeff told his parents he was going camping over the weekend. 
Margot was going to be out of town, so I didn't bother telling her anything. 
We left my apartment at ten o'clock in the morning and headed for the state 
line. As we sped toward our destiny, Jeff kept one hand on the wheel and the 
other stroking my thigh as I sat huddled up against him with my hand draped 
lovingly over his crotch. 

To celebrate when we finally crossed the state line, I unzipped his pants 
and took out his cock, massaging tenderly as it quickly grew to full size. 
"What are you doing?" asked Jeff, as if he didn't 

"Getting ready to celebrate crossing the state line by giving you your last 
jollies as a bachelor." 

"But I'm driving. You'll make me run off the road," he said in mock protest. 

"Not if you keep your eyes on the road while I'm sucking you," I said, 
lowering my mouth over his stiff cock and sliding my lips up and down his 
shaft. He came ten miles past the state line. I rolled his hot jism around 
in my mouth before I lovingly swallowed it, looking affectionately at my 
soon-to-be-husband as the last drop of cum slid down my throat. 

When I was finished, I opened my purse and looked at myself in my compact 
mirror to see if I was presentable. "Oh, my God, Jeff!" I cried. "Stop at 
the next service station." 

"Why?" he asked. "We don't need any gas. Do you have to go to the bathroom 
again? You just went a few miles back." 

"No," I said. "Some of your . . . well, you know your juice dribbled onto my 
blouse. I've got to clean it off. I can't get married with . . your stains 
all over my blouse." 

"Well," he said cheerfully, "that's your something borrowed. All you need 
now is something new, old, and something blue." 

"If you ask me," I giggled, "stains all over my blouse from sucking your 
cock is pretty blue." We both had a good laugh over that. 

The ceremony by the justice of the peace was at two-thirty, and by 
eight-thirty we were back in my bedroom fucking for the first time as 
husband and wife. As Jeff's cock plunged into my cunt and I wrapped my legs 
around him, it occurred to me that fucking felt pretty much the same whether 
you were married or not. 

We kept our marriage a secret until after Jeff's our parents. 

First we told Margot. She was indifferent, perhaps relieved to hand her 
responsibility for me over to Jeff. His parents were heartsick. They kept 
shaking their heads and asking, "Why? You're just kids. Why did you throw 
your futures away?" 

Of course they meant Jeff's future. He'd planned to go to college, then to 
law school. All I'd ever wanted to do was fall in love, many, and have 
children. 

"We love each other," Jeff told his parents, but his face flamed with the 
unspoken truth-we'd wanted the right to fuck without guilt. 

"What do you know about love?" his father retorted scornfully. 

"We know," Jeff insisted. 

"Love involves responsibility. How are you going to support her?" 

"I've been offered a full-time job at the service station," Jeff said. 

His father groaned, and his mother sarcastically said, "Will you work there 
the rest of your life? Jeff, what about your plans? You've wanted to be an 
attorney since you were a little boy." 

Jeff looked a little sick for a moment. "Maybe I could still go to college," 
he said. 

His father looked at him with shrewd, narrowed eyes. "You'd never make it," 
he said flatly. "College is no breeze and law school is not a picnic." He 
turned his back and walked away. 

"Maybe we could help," his mother began hesitantly. 

"No!" his father snapped. "If they're old enough to get married, they're old 
enough to be responsible for their own future. 

"We'll pay your first month's rent," he said to us, "and give you grocery 
money for a week. After 

Jeff and I were very quiet when we left jis parents' home. I wasn't afraid 
of our future, but Jeff's white face told me he was. 

We found a furnished apartment above a double garage. I thought it Was 
darling, but it would take half of Jeff's take-home pay every month. Since 
it was the cheapest one we'd found, we took it. 

That evening we moved our clothes and our few personal possessions into our 
new home. After putting everything away, we stood looking at each other. I 
was happy, but Jeff looked bewildered and somewhat unhappy. 

I wanted him to be as happy as I was. I wound my arms around his neck and 
pressed my body close to his. "No more hunting a place to be alone," I 
whispered, my lips brushing his. "Now we can make love any time." 

His mouth found mine, and as it did I could feel the stirring of his cock 
against my cunt. Moments later we were tangled in each other's arms on the 
bed, with his cock pounding away inside me. 

I was happy for a couple of months, and Jeff, at least, tried to put up a 
facade of contentment. Then Jeff became quiet and moody. He still liked to 
make love, but not as often. Frequently, when we embraced, I noticed that 
the bulge between his legs that had been such an automatic response before 
we were married didn't occur. He began to pick quarrels-he didn't like the 
way I cooked even though he ate every bite I put on his plate. He didn't 
like the way I dressed, walked, talked. His criticism bewildered me. I 
wasn't any different from before. 

One night, after we'd been quarreling over an hour, I said I was sorry and 
tried to kiss him. He pulled away, shouting, "Is sex all you ever think 
about? Do you think it's all I, need?" trembling, my voice thick with tears. 

Suddenly his anger disappeared, and he groaned, "I'm sorry, but this is no 
good. You know that, too. We shouldn't have gotten married. We were too 
young." 

I nearly choked with misery. "What do you want to do?" I asked in a whisper. 

"I don't know," he said wearily. "I just know we were wrong. We should have 
never gotten married." 

Well, maybe Jeff didn't know what to do, but his parents did. Apparently, 
he'd talked to them while I thought he was at work, because the next 
afternoon they came by to see me. 

They were ill-at-ease, and I sensed it. I made coffee for them, not knowing 
what was behind their visit. At last, Jeff's father said quietly, "Jeff came 
to see us this morning. He said that he-that both of you realized you'd made 
a mistake." 

My cup was halfway to my mouth. I had to set it down. I lowered my eyes so 
they couldn't see the sudden tears that filled them. Jeff had gone to them 
to get advice on how to get rid of me! 

"An annulment is the best answer," his father went on, his voice gaining 
purpose. "That way, you both can pick up the pieces of your lives. Jeff can 
enter the university next month as he'd planned Of course, we'll help you 
until you decide what you want to do. And we'll see to the legal part, 

The tears spilled over my lids. His mother reached out and touched my hand. 
"Don't cry, dear. You and Jeff aren't the first teenagers to make this kind 
of mistake." 

"Would you mind leaving now?" I said, my voice strained. "You're a beautiful 
young woman, and you-" 

"Don't, please!" I broke in. I couldn't take another minute of torture. 

The minute the door closed behind them, I flung myself on the couch and 
cried wildly. I was furious at Jeff. How sneaky of him to go to his parents 
like that, to have them tell me our marriage was over. Those hypocrites! 
They were the people who had refused to help because we were supposed to be 
responsible now for ourselves. They wouldn't help us make a go of our 
marriage, but they were willing to do everything they could to break it up. 
I got up and started throwing Jeff's clothes into suitcases. 

When Jeff got home, his bags were standing by the door waiting far him. He 
looked surprised but relieved. He came over to the couch where I was 
sitting. "Mom and Dad told me you understand," he said awkwardly. "I 
probably should have told you myself. I just didn't know how." He pulled a 
check out of his pocket and set it on the coffee table. "Dad said to tell 
you if you need more to call him." 

"That was nice of him," I said, my voice icy with sarcasm. "Now suppose you 
get the hell out of here!" I hardly ever swore, but now cursing seemed the 
only appropriate way to express the fury I felt. 

"At least let's part friends," he pleaded. 

"I don't feel like your friend, you rotten son of a bitch," I retorted. 
"Just get your ass out of here, you dirty bastard!" 

"I'm sorry," he said. "I hope you believe that." "Yeah, I believe it, you 
two-faced bastard!" I cried. "You're sorry all right. Sorry you ever got 
involved with me. Sorry a little easy pussy turned your head and got you 
away from your precious own two feet." 

His face was a mask of shock. He couldn't believe what he was hearing, that 
I was actually saying these hateful, vile things to him. "Please, please 
stop," he begged. "This isn't like you. What's gotten into you?" 

"Well," I laughed bitterly, "namely, you, whenever you wanted! All you 
wanted was somebody to fuck whenever you felt like it. Now that there are 
some strings attached, you're backing out like the lousy pimp you really 
are. How could I have been so stupid to get involved with such a pitiful 
creature." 

Suddenly his jaw got hard, and his contriteness was gone as he spit out, 
"Listen, the first time we went all the way I could tell you'd been around. 
You weren't exactly a wide-eyed innocent. You knew what you were getting 
into. You wanted it just as much as I did, probably more. The only 
attraction we ever had for each other was nothing but sex, pure and simple. 
And the more I know you, the more I see that there's nothing to you except 
that. I see you now for what you really are. You're nothing but a cunt! You 
hear me, you goddamned cunt!" 

A few minutes ago that would have made me burst into tears. Now, in my 
present frame of mind, it made me want to kill him. "You rotten 
motherfucker!" I screamed as I picked up a heavy glass ashtray from the 
coffee table and threw it at his head. 

Jeff moved his head just in time as the ashtray went whistling by his ear 
and crashed against the wall. I could see the fire in his eyes as he 
advanced toward me with his fists clenched. 

Jeff's first punch caught me flush against the temple and knocked me 
sprawling onto the couch, raining blows, both slaps and punches all over my 
head and shoulders. I felt a sharp pain as he hit me with his fists on my 
tits. "I'll show you what I think of you, cunt!" he screamed. "I'll leave 
you something to remember me by!" 

He slugged me across the jaw with his clenched fist, sending me into 
semiconsciousness. I was still alert enough, though, to be aware that he was 
now ripping off my clothes. As I cowered naked before him, he dropped his 
pants and through the haze I could see his erect cock leering savagely at 
me. 

"No, no," I begged, "please don't hurt me any more!" I tasted my own blood 
as I screamed. 

He moved toward me and grabbed each of my legs and tore them apart so that 
my trembling cunt gaped at him. He pulled me toward him so that my back was 
now on the couch and my legs straight up in the air as he held them aloft. 
"Now I'm going to show you, cunt!" he kept repeating. 

All of a sudden my consciousness came back in a furious lurch as he took his 
fiery prick and savagely shoved it up to the hilt into my asshole. I felt 
like I was going to come apart in a million pieces as he fucked himself into 
me. I felt like I was going to turn inside out as his cock pounded away in 
the hole that was much too tight for his big cock. 

"Oh, God, please don't!" I cried as I could feel myself tearing where the 
tight skin began to give from the furious onslaught of jackhammering cock. 
Then, as if a stick of dynamite had gone off, he came like a cannon and I 
could feel blood and jism beginning to trickle out of my asshole as he 
withdrew his cock. I could see that it was smeared with my blood. It was too 
much for me and I mercifully passed out with Jeff hovering over me. My last 
memory of him will always be of that nothing but a blur. 

When I woke up I was alone and naked in a heap on the floor, and the 
bleeding had stopped. Somehow, I picked myself up and went into the bathroom 
and took a hot bath. At that moment I made up my mind that I had to go on. 
There would be no crying over Jeff. I had to go on! I would show them all. 

I never did cry over Jeff. Maybe I secretly wanted to, inside, but I 
wouldn't let myself do it. I felt it would be a sign of weakness which I 
couldn't afford. It had been weakness, I felt, that had led me to give in to 
Jeff when I should have seen all along that he really didn't care for me 
except as a convenient sex object, and had never actually wanted me as a 
wife. 

Two days after Jeff left me, I lied about my age and got a job in a 
warehouse making out bills of lading, something I had learned how to do 
taking some business courses in high school. I was the only girl among a 
half-dozen men. They helped to restore my shattered ego by competing with 
each other to do something for me. The only trouble was that they were all 
married and all too old for me. 

I told myself it didn't matter, for the job was only a stopgap until I found 
something I really liked. The main thing on my mind was making my own way, 
proving that I was more than just an oversexed kid. I had the check Jeff had 
given me from his father. It was for five hundred dollars, but I was 
determined to use as little of it as possible to get started, and send the 
remainder of it back. mailed it to Jeff's parents. Throwing it back in their 
faces like that made me feel the best I had in weeks. 

Margot took my separation the way she'd taken my marriage, with 
indifference. But she called me a fool for returning any of the five hundred 
dollars. And she was clearly relieved that I had no thought of returning to 
live with her. 

Two weeks after I started work I turned sixteen, but I was so absorbed in 
trying to forge my way in the adult world that I didn't even pause to notice 
it. A week after that, I met Red. He drove a big truck and trailer, and his 
route covered all of the western states. He had come to the warehouse to 
pick up the bill of lading. I bumped into him near the water cooler. Red was 
a rugged man with flaming hair that gave him his nickname, a leathery face, 
and penetrating green eyes that made shivers go up and down my spine. He 
looked at me with undisguised interest. 

"How long have you been here, doll?" he asked. 

"About three weeks," I murmured. 

"Then I've wasted three weeks," he stated. "If I'd have known you were here, 
I'd have dumped my last load in the desert and bee-lined it back here for 
another." 

I laughed, feeling giddy. 

"If you've got a date tonight, break it." He leaned over until his face was 
no more than six inches from mine. "We'll do the town-dinner, dancing. You 
name it." 

"What about your load?" I asked, lowering my eyes. 

"I don't go out until morning. Now, where do we go?" 

I was aware of the men in the office watching us, envy in their expressions. 
I knew all of them interest made me feel feminine and wanted once again. 

"I haven't said I'd go anywhere," I laughed. 

"You will, baby," he said softly. "You will." 

"You're loaded with self-confidence, aren't you?" I teased. I'd already made 
up my mind I'd go out with him. And why not? I'd been served with papers the 
night before that set a date for Jeff's and my annulment proceedings. My 
life with him was officially over. 

"When I want something, I go after it," he said. "And I have the feeling 
you're exactly what I've been looking for for a long time. How about dinner 
tonight at the Archard House?" 

"All right," I agreed. "Dinner." Back at my desk, I wrote out my address and 
gave it to him. He signed the bill of lading and said, "Seven o'clock, 
doll," and walked out of the office, his asscheeks rolling masculinely. 

Archard House was a posh supper club. The food was excellent, and the 
service and music left nothing to be desired. We ate and danced, lingered 
over coffee, and danced some more. At midnight, Red took me home. 

When I put the key in the lock, Red said, "How about a cup of coffee?" 

"It's a little late," I protested. All of a sudden I could feel the pressure 
on me, bath from him and from inside of me, to get involved. It made me feel 
unsure of myself, and of what to do next. 

"So what's a little sleep?" He grinned and stood so close to me I could feel 
his body warmth. 

"I guess another half-hour wouldn't matter," I agreed uncertainly. 

The instant the door closed behind us, he swept me into his arms, his mouth 
coming down against mine in a way that made my heart pound. I closed pressed 
erotically against me. It seemed enormous. There was no doubt about it, I 
was turned on. It was like it had been with Jeff, only better. Red was 
mature and knew how to kiss and hold a girl so it made her feel faint with 
longing. As he started to grope for my tits, it was obvious that he had no 
intention of stopping with kisses. My body said yes, but the mind I had made 
up against getting involved said no. I wrenched free. 

"That's all!" I cried. 

He caught my arm. Pulling me back against him, he whispered in a husky 
voice, "I know when a girl wants more. And, baby you do." 

I slapped him. I was outraged because he thought he could go to bed with me 
on our first date, and angry at myself because everything inside of me was 
urging, "Yes, yes!" 

I thought the slap would infuriate him. Instead, he turned suddenly tender. 
"Come on, honey," he said softly. He wiped away my tears with a big 
handkerchief. "Come on, blow your nose and smile at me." 

I did blow my nose, but I couldn't manage a smile. I felt too humiliated by 
the abandon with which I'd returned his kisses. 

"Sit down," he urged. "I'll find the coffee and make it." 

I let him. I sat on the couch, reflecting that my past experience had 
conditioned my body to expect fulfillment. I couldn't blame Red for acting 
as he had. I'd made him think he could flick me. "I'm sorry I slapped you," 
I said, and I meant it. 

"You were right to do it," he said understandingly. "I was moving too fast. 
But honey, you're going to have to watch it. You might not be able to stop 
the next guy you kiss that 

I bit my lip and told him about Jeff. "I just have to learn that kisses 
can't lead to lovemaking," I said simply. 

He studied my face for a moment. "Well, 'can't' is a pretty final word," he 
protested. "Why don't you drink your coffee and let's talk about it." 

"Okay," I said, "I guess that would make me feel better." 

"You know," he said, putting his arm around me, "you are a very pretty girl. 
How'd you ever get hooked up with this Jeff, a guy who didn't have the 
faintest idea of how to treat you?" 

"It seemed like love," I said. "You know how high school kids are." 

"I bet you get lonely being all alone now." 

"Not really," I lied. "I work hard at my job. I've been reading quite a bit, 
trying to improve myself so I can take a high school equivalency test so I 
can get a better job. I have a few other interests." Yes, I thought, like 
massaging my clitoris when I get so horny I can't think of anything else to 
do. 

He dropped his arm around my shoulder and I sucked in my breath. "Don't be 
afraid, baby," he said gently, dropping his hand nonchalantly over one of my 
tits. This time his approach was so much different I didn't have the same 
reaction as before. Besides, as he began to apply pressure on my tit, and a 
tingling sensation spread throughout my body, I realized just how badly I 
wanted him. Just once can't hurt, I convinced myself. Still, something in me 
was holding me back, making me hold back to see what was going to happen. 
Maybe I was horny, but I wasn't going to make a move until something 
developed. 

I didn't have long to wait. He leaned over and started kissing me. It was 
different from before, not a long, hard kiss, but tender little nibbles. But 
rubbed together. It was then that he put his lips to my ear and whispered, 
"I'd like to split your pretty pink pussy wide open with my eleven-inch 
cock." 

What would have seemed outrageous just a few minutes ago sent my pulse 
pounding in wild anticipation. Eleven inches! My cunt started doing 
flip-flops. He pushed me back on the couch and began unbuttoning my blouse. 

Well, if this is the way it's going to be, I thought, I might as well relax 
and enjoy myself. I panted with excitement, wondering how it would be to 
have eleven inches of cock rammed up my sex-starved cunt. 

He slipped off my bra and looked at my tits. The nipples were as hard as 
marbles. 

"Oh, baby," he crooned, "you're ready for it, aren't you? Oh, you're ready 
for Red's eleven inches. You need it, don't you, baby?" 

He dropped his carrot-topped head down to m tits as we sprawled off the 
couch and onto the floor. His tongue darted out and flicked my left nipple. 
Then he sucked my right nipple into his mouth. I felt a warm, pulling 
sensation start rippling down my stomach and into my cunt. His hand slid 
under my skirt and I opened my legs to accommodate his touch. I moaned as he 
ran his large rough hand up and down my cunt. 

"What do you want now, baby?" he said. "Want to see what eleven inches feels 
like?" Slowly, he slid a long finger up my cunt and started to finger-fuck 
me. 

"Yes, yes," I said. "Anything. Give it to me!" I was hotter than I could 
ever remember being. My God, I thought, if he doesn't hurry up and fuck me, 
I'll rape him! 

After what seemed like forever, he stood up, seen such a man. His gigantic 
cock jumped out at me from a bush of fiery red hair, the blue veins in it 
pulsating. "Oh, I can't take that," I stammered, reaching out to touch it. 
He hadn't exaggerated-it was eleven inches if it was anything, and at least 
six inches around. "I've never had anything that huge." 

"You've never done a lot of things," he laughed, "but you know they say 
there's a first time for everything. Don't worry, baby, your pussy will 
stretch." He sat down beside me and pulled my legs apart. "You sure have a 
nice little tight pussy," he said, putting a finger up it. "Yes sir, it's 
going to be a real pleasure teaching such a cute little pussy to swallow 
eleven inches of cock whole." 

All of a sudden I felt reckless with abandon and threw all of my inhibitions 
out the window. "Don't worry," I said wantonly, "I'm going to love that big 
cock of yours up me. Get that monster inside of me and let it do its thing!" 

He rolled on top of me and I felt the head of his huge cock brushing the 
drooling lips of my throbbing cunt. He eased it into the opening of my cunt 
hole, then shoved gently. His giant cock began to slip slowly into my cunt. 

"Oh, God, that feels good!" I moaned. "Fuck me! Fuck me hard! I can't wait 
any longer!" 

He reached down, spread my oozing pussylips open, and gave a hard shove, I 
felt his cock ram into my cunt all the way to his big pounding balls. As it 
throbbed inside me, it felt like it was right up to my stomach. He pulled it 
all the way out to its head, and then plunged it in again. "FUCK ME, FUCK 
ME!" I screamed, biting his shoulder. 

"Scream, baby, scream!" he said. "Let it all out. Now you know what it's 
like to be flicked by a real man." He fucked me hard, just like I asked, and 
I 

"What a fuck, what fucking!" I moaned each time he rammed in his steel cock. 
Never had I been so wanton, so uninhibited, even as a young girl who didn't 
know any better when I was balling Margot's boyfriends. I just let myself go 
completely, crying, "My pussy will never be the same! Ram that eleven inches 
in me, baby! Fuck me, make me scream! Fuck me! Fuck! Fuck! FUCK!" I raised 
my head so I could watch his huge cock slide in and out of my slobbering 
cunt. Just watching that thing at work was enough to make me come. I started 
to moan, louder and louder, until I was screaming at the top of my lungs. My 
cunt throbbed and spasmed as I came like I'd never come before. 

I was still screaming when he placed his hands under my legs and pushed them 
up to my shoulders. Then he dropped to his knees between them and rammed his 
enormous cock into me like an enraged bull. In and out it traveled, until my 
cunt began to tighten up and I started to scream again. I'd already come 
twice with this marvelously endowed truck driver, and the twitching inside 
me told me more was on the way. 

When I had stopped screaming, he pulled his wet cock out of my cunt and 
pushed me toward a chair. 

"Bend over the chair," he said. "I'm going to dog-fuck you." I did as he 
asked and he promptly leaned over my back to plunge his huge cock into my 
spasming cunt. 

"Oh, my God!" I yelled. "You're going to split me wide open!" 

"No, no, baby," he said. "Your cunt was just made for my prick. It fits like 
a glove." His cock made wet sucking sounds as it went in and out of thrust 
and buried his huge dick in to the hilt. I yelled again as I felt a cauldron 
of boiling cum shoot up into my cunt. He pulled it out, then plunged again 
into the swamp of his jism and my girl cream as he spurted about ten more 
times. Then he lay still with his cock still lodged in my cunt. His cum 
started slipping out of me. It ran down my leg as he slowly withdrew his 
magnificent cock and moved back to the couch. Incredibly, after all that, 
his cock was still standing straight up as he sat down. 

"I'll get the best of you yet!" I exclaimed, more to his cock than to Red. 
Now I'm going to fuck you and cut you down to size." 

I straddled his legs and grabbed his still-hard cock. With fumbling fingers, 
I guided it to my sopping cunt and slammed down on it. He was up to his 
balls again in my cunt. As I watched his huge prick drive into my clenching 
gash, I went crazy with excitement. I bounced up and down on his cock 
wildly. He grabbed my tits and hung on while I slid my cunt up and down his 
ramrod. I bounced up and down until I could feel my cunt start to throb and 
contract again. I let out a yell and we both fell over, exhausted. 

Red was in town only three days in two weeks after our first date, but the 
instant he arrived he came to the warehouse or called me. We were together 
every night he was in town. My vow not to get involved was totally 
forgotten. We had fun, laughed a lot, and wound up our evenings fucking 
until the wee hours of the morning. It was impossible for me not to respond 
to him. that what I'd felt about Jeff was just a schoolgirl crush that 
shouldn't have resulted in marriage. I was even happy that the annulment had 
gone through and I was free to love again, to love Red! 

One night when he pulled up in front of my apartment he shut the motor off 
and said gravely, "We need to talk, doll." 

I was sure he was going to propose, and my heart leaped for joy. 

"I haven't been fair with you," he said. "Maybe we shouldn't even see each 
other again." 

"Why?" I whispered in shock, terrified that I was going to lose him. 

"I'm not free to marry you. I'm supporting my mother and kid brother and 
sister. They'll be dependent on me for another two years." He grew fidgety. 
"Until I met you, I played it cool. I never had more than two dates with the 
same girl. Just, well, you know, wham-bam-thank you-ma'am. Originally I 
meant to do the same with you, but I couldn't." He caught my hands in his. 
"I can't ask you to wait two years for me. And even if you would, I couldn't 
wait two years. Everytime I'm with you, when we say good night it kills me 
that you don't belong to me. And I can't really be sure you'll be waiting 
for me when I come back from one of my runs. Darling, do you know what I'm 
trying to say?" 

Yes, I knew. "I love you!" I cried. "That's what really matters, that we 
love each other!" He sucked in his breath sharply. "Are you saying we could 
Continue having an affair indefinitely until we could many? No, I wasn't 
saying that. I loved Red, I wanted him, nothing had ever sent such waves of 
excitement through me as his eleven-inch cock, but something of myself, and 
that something included the security of marriage with the man I loved, not 
some affair that went on indefinitely with nothing ever resolved. "No man 
has ever satisfied me the way you do, Red," I said, "but I want more than 
that." "But my obligations," he protested. 

"We could still marry," I said. 

"I can't support two families," he said with terrible finality. "And I can't 
run out on Mom and the kids." 

"I could go on working," I suggested eagerly. "We'd have to put off having 
babies, but we're young yet, and I really wouldn't mind." 

"Let you support me?" he asked incredulously. "I couldn't." 

"It would only be temporary," I argued. "Darling, it's an answer." 

He caught me against him, kissing me savagely, and for a moment I thought 
I'd won. But then he pushed me away. "I couldn't." 

"Is your pride more important than our love, is it more important than my 
self-respect? I've told you how I feel from the beginning!" I shouted. By 
then I was crying, seeing myself abandoned once again, his eleven inches 
gone from my life. 

"You're not being fair!" he protested. 

"And are you?" I sobbed. "Maybe you just don't love me as much as you claim 
to." 

He stared at me bleakly. "You won't change your mind? Honey, I swear we'd be 
happy the other way, and just knowing you were waiting would make that two 
years fly by." 

"Just because I've had sex with you without being married to you doesn't 
mean I'm willing to be your mistress," I insisted. "Since you've forced the 
issue, if you won't marry me, I won't be 

We argued another hour, but in the end he walked me to my door, kissed me 
goodbye, and left. I didn't know if I'd ever see him again, and for the next 
few days I was frantic with heartache. 

My worries ceased when he called from Oregon. "I still can't think of 
anything but you," he confessed. "You win. I'll hit town Friday night, and 
we'll get married Saturday. But no one can know. If Mom found out, she'd 
insist you were my responsibility, not her and the kids." 

"No one needs to know," I assured him happily. 

Being married to Red was sheer ecstasy at first, and each time he came home 
from one of his long runs it was like a honeymoon. We only had a day or two 
each week together, but when he was on the road I kept busy working, keeping 
the apartment clean, and experimenting with new dishes I'd cook to delight 
him. And I daydreamed a lot about the family we'd have someday, and about 
meeting his mother, brother, and sister. 

As things settled into a routine with Red gone eighty percent of the time, I 
found myself getting more and more restless. My job didn't really provide me 
with much of a social outlet because the people who worked there were all so 
much older than I was. 

One day I had a headache and came home from work early. When I fumbled 
through my purse for my key, I couldn't find it. Finally, I dumped the 
contents all over the front porch and sifted through them. My headache 
worsened when I realized the key wasn't there and that I'd lost it. Since 
our apartment was on the second story and outside, and there was no balcony, 
it was impossible to get through a window since there was nothing to stand 
on, and the front door was solid wood. There was no alternative but to call 
a rifling through the yellow pages for locksmiths. The first one that caught 
my eye was the listing at the top of the page, AAA Locksmiths. I called 
their number and they said a man would be right over. I told them I would be 
waiting on the front steps. 

A few minutes later a battered pick-up truck with AAA painted on its doors 
pulled up by the curb. Its driver got out and I could quickly see that he 
was black. As he advanced toward me carrying a case with his tools in it, I 
suddenly found myself feeling apprehensive. It wasn't that I was prejudiced, 
it was just that I had always lived in white neighborhoods, had gone to 
school with white children, and really had had no experience with black 
people. I couldn't help myself, but they seemed so different. 

"Hello, ma'am," he said politely as he came up the walk toward where I was 
sitting. "I'm the man from Triple A. You the lady with the door that won't 
open?" 

I stood up and told him I was, stammering over my words. 

"What's the matter?" he asked with apparent concern. "Is something bothering 
you?" He was a nice-looking man, well over six feet tall, with a small 
goatee and a medium Afro, and strong masculine features. I could see his 
powerful muscles rippling his khaki work shirt that was rolled up to his 
biceps. 

"No," I said, getting myself together. "Well, I guess I'm kind of upset 
about not being able to get into my apartment. See, I came home with a 
headache and " 

"Don't worry 'bout a thing," he said understandingly, "I'll fix you right 
up. Is that it up the stairs?"04:28.2/08:21.7 I nodded yes, and we began 
climbing the stairs. As I watched him ascend the stairs, I couldn't help but 
notice the sensuous movement of his high, firm asscheeks and his long, 
strong-looking legs. 

He fiddled around the lock for a while with some sort of tool, and the next 
thing I knew the door was open. "Come on up," he said, "the door's open now. 
Have you got a spare key inside, or do you want me to make you one?" 

"Thank you," I said, "but I've got one, I think." 

"You better check before I go," he suggested. "You don't want to get caught 
like this again." 

"I guess you're right," I agreed, and went upstairs and into the apartment. 
I walked through the living room toward the kitchen where the spare key was 
kept. I reached up to the pantry and got down the cookie jar where it was 
supposed to be, and felt around for it. "Yes, it's here," I said loudly so 
he could hear. 

"No need to yell," he said right in my ear. I almost jumped up into the air. 
I'd thought he was still out by the front door, but he had followed me into 
the kitchen. 

"Oh, excuse me," I said, flustered. "I thought you were " 

"Is something wrong?" he said. 

"No, no," I said quickly, "I just thought you were still outside, that's 
all. You surprised me." His face wasn't six inches from mine. He smiled as I 
was trying to explain my jumpiness to him, a ribbon of snow-white teeth 
splitting his handsome black face. 

"Heh-heh," he chuckled, "I'll bet I know what's wrong with you." 

"What do you mean?" I said. "I just told you." "You've never been alone like 
this with a nigger before," he chuckled sardonically. "That's what's making 
you so jumpy." 

"No," I protested. "Well, I mean, I . ." 

"Well, have you?" 

"No, no, I haven't. But it doesn't make any difference to me." But it did. 
He was right. Or was he? Was it just because he was black that was making me 
feel this way? Or was it because I was so tired of being alone and now I 
found myself with an attractive man? Or maybe it was both. In any case, I 
suddenly became aware of a tightening between my legs and a simultaneous 
dampening of my cunt. 

He seemed to be reading my mind. "Listen, lady, I ain't gonna do nothing you 
don't want me to. You asked me to fix your lock, and, presto, I did it. Now 
if you need anything else, let me know and I'll try and accommodate you, 
otherwise I'll be on my way." Then there was silence as he hypnotized me 
with a black stare and tied my tongue. 

Finally I stammered, "What.., what's your name?" 

"Luther Jackson," he said, "at your service, like I said. Now, heh-heh, is 
there anything else I can do for you?" 

I was weakening. "I can't think of anything at the moment, but why don't you 
stay and have a cup of coffee?" 

He nodded his head. 

"Is instant all right?" I asked. 

"I don't really want no coffee," he said as he sat down on the couch. He 
must have been about six feet four and over two hundred pounds, and about 
five pounds of that had to be cock, judging from the huge bulge in his 
pants. "Now why don't you sit down and let's get acquainted," he said. 

"Well, I suppose if you don't want any coffee, I might as well," I said, 
taking a chair across from him. My skirt climbed halfway up my ass, and I 
gave it a tug and a mumbled curse. 

"I'm sorry, what did you say?" he asked.' 

"Oh," I said, "I was just complaining to myself about how short this skirt 
was." I was getting so steamed up I wondered if he could see that my panties 
were wringing wet when my skirt rode up. If I got any more excited it would 
start running down my leg. 

"You certainly have no reason to complain," he said. "You have beautiful 
legs. And you really don't have to sit clear across the room, you know. I'm 
not a monster, you know." 

"I didn't think you were, I said as I moved to sit beside him. I could feel 
his eyes on my legs as my skirt slid up. My panties were so saturated I 
might as well not have had any on at all. They clung translucently to the 
cleavage of my pussy, sopping in my slit, my cuntlips oozing against them. I 
made no move to pull my skirt down. 

"You know," he said, "you're really very attractive. How come you're here 
alone? How come your husband wasn't around to let you in?" 

"He's a truck driver and he's gone a lot," I said. "He's on a five-day run 
someplace." 

"I'll bet you get lonely with him gone all the time like that." 

"Not really," I said, but I looked at him in such a way that he knew it was 
a lie. 

"You've never had a black man before, have you?" he said suddenly. 

"We've already talked about that," I said. 

"You know what I'm talking about now," he said firmly. "I mean, you never 
fucked a black man. You've never had a black prick up your honky cunt." 

I was speechless. The image of a jet-black cock sliding in and out of my 
pliant cunt rendered me wordless with the choking anticipation of forbidden 
desire. A combination of my restlessness and frustration from being alone 
too much of the time, and my subconscious lust to be flicked by a black man, 
made words useless. I threw myself at him, my hands wildly fumbling with his 
fly, knowing I couldn't wait a second longer to see his black cock. I pushed 
his pants down as he got up and stepped out of them. As he sat down again, 
my head flew to his groin. 

I had been right when I'd estimated that his cock was a big one. If 
anything, it was even bigger than Red's eleven inches. It was an enormous 
black shaft with an even blacker knob the size of a plum on the end of it, 
jutting Menacingly out of a bush of crinkly black hair. I couldn't wait to 
plunge that cock into my mouth, work my lips up and down the stem furiously, 
tickle its giant head with my voracious tongue. And that's what I did. 

As I sucked on his gigantic prick, Luther placed his large black hand under 
my skirt and began to press against my sopping cunt. Then he grabbed the 
dripping crotch of my panties and as easy as swatting a fly ripped them out 
from between my legs. He began to tickle my already rigid clitoris which was 
sticking out like a miniature hard-on. As he flipped my clit, he inserted 
his two middle fingers up my fucking canal, working them around in the 
morass of goo to touch all the most sensitive spots so that it seemed he had 
a map of my cunt. I couldn't stop creaming as he turned me on to greater and 
greater heights. With his cock still lodged firmly in my mouth, I glanced 
over to watch him finger-fucking me and noticed a growing dark stain on the 
couch from the accumulated oozing of my cunt. I watched as he withdrew his 
fingers and placed them on each side of my cunt, and then as the force of 
his strong fingers pulled the pink gooey lips apart, exposing the gaping 
mouth of my cunt, copiously drooling hot cream from its depths. 

With his enormous black cock still in my mouth, he shifted around so that he 
was now lying with his massive dark body on top of me with his monstrous 
black balls in my face, and his face buried deeply in my cunt. From the feel 
of it, his tongue seemed almost as large as his prick as he drove it deeply 
inside my cunt so that I felt like I was actually being fucked. It was such 
an exhilarating feeling, I reciprocated by swallowing that massive black 
prick completely, somehow managing to keep from choking to death as my hands 
kneaded those smoldering black balls of his. 

Suddenly I felt his tongue leave my cunt, and then an even more exhilarating 
feeling spread through me as he began jamming that monster tongue of his up 
my asshole. Oh my God, I thought, he must have at least five inches of 
tongue up my ass! I greedily attempted to get even more by matching his 
probes with strenuous upward thrusts of my own against his face, trying to 
bury his tongue to its roots in my asshole, which was getting as hot as my 
cunt. When he resumed finger-fucking my cunt while continuing to tongue-fuck 
my asshole, the entire area of my body from the small of my back, down, 
around, and back up again to my navel, felt like a white-hot ember about 
ready to explode into a million pieces. 

But before I passed out from the sheer ecstasy of what he was doing to me, I 
knew I had to experience that big black cock inside my cunt and gallons of 
his bubbling jism splattering all over my insides. "Oh, fuck me, fuck me 
with your big black cock!" I cried lasciviously. "Come inside me, I went 
that big black monster inside me!" 

mb_ts.txt Dream Maker 3.paHe lifted his head out of the cradle of my thighs 
and stood up and faced me spread-legged, his hands on his hips and his cock 
standing straight out. As I looked at his imposing body I couldn't help but 
have the sudden thought that I was about to find out what it would be like 
to be fucked by the Jolly Green Giant. 

"Okay, baby," he panted, "you asked for it. I'm gonna jam this black cannon 
all the way up your lily-white cunt into your stomach and out your mouth." 

Oh God, I thought, if only he could! 

He abruptly pulled my legs over my head, and when they were straight up in 
the air he grabbed them by the ankles and pulled them as far apart as they 
would go. He brutally came down an me, savagely hurling his huge cock its 
full length up my gaping cunt. I could feel my insides straining to 
accommodate him as he shoved harder and harder, pushing deeper and deeper 
with his giant prick. I hooked my upturned legs around his neck with my 
ankles, and shoved my pelvis back at his loins so that he could fuck me even 
deeper. I could feel his balls squashing between our bodies as I screamed, 
"Harder, HARDER! Oh God, RIP ME APART!" 

Then I completely lost control of my body as my nervous system went wild. My 
pelvis seemed to have a mind of its own as it thrust spasmodically upward to 
meet his plunges, thrusting higher and higher, harder and harder. Our 
crotches were apparently engaged in an erotic shoving match to the death. 
His face became a dark blur as images of sparks and lightning invaded my 
consciousness. I felt like I was expanding to infinite proportions, filled 
with copious sticky fluids; and then I burst, flooding the universe with a 
cascade of foaming, bubbling cream. "I'M COMING! I'M COMING!" I screamed. 

At that moment he withdrew his jackhammering cock and thrust it into my 
face, just in time to spurt an enormous load of jism as snowy white as he 
was black against my nose and lips, into my hair, and down my neck and onto 
my tits. I grabbed his cock before it could go limp and gobbled it up, 
sucking out the sticky sweet cum that was left in it. Amazingly, he spurted 
again, filling my mouth with scalding jism to such an extent that it began 
to trickle out of the corners of my lips. I slurped down his cum, with his 
prick still throbbing in my mouth. Then I removed his cock from my mouth and 
began to fondle and kiss it, still amazed at its power and size. This was 
really black power. 

 Chapter Five 

I had a lot of "lock trouble" after my first meeting with Luther, and I 
always relied on good old Triple A. My excuse was that being with Luther 
made the time that Red was gone seem bearable, and, somehow, surprisingly, 
it seemed to improve my relationship with Red. Now when he came home I 
wasn't moody and depressed. Even the men at work noticed that my spirits had 
picked up. 

Despite the fact that my access to Luther had made Red's schedule bearable, 
I still hoped eventually things would be worked out so that Red and I could 
live like other people, with regular hours and a family of our own. My 
relationship with Luther was merely for sex. Whenever I would start to feel 
restless I would call up Triple A and ask for him. He would tell his boss it 
was a call about a lock and be on his way over. When he got to my apartment 
we never said much; in fact, we'd never gotten around to even having that 
cup of coffee. He would step in the door, say hello, and almost immediately 
take off his pants, revealing that enormous black cock. Usually he didn't 
even bother to undress me, just throwing up my skirt and sucking and fucking 
as if he couldn't wait, or 000be was in a hurry. I took to not wearing any 
panties when I knew he was coming so he could fuck me easier, and because I 
couldn't afford to keep buying new pairs when he ripped them off. 

Then, one day I decided I wasn't going to make any more calls to Triple A. 
Leading a normal life was still my main objective, and seeing Luther was 
just lulling me into inaction that prevented me from getting what I really 
wanted. Finally, one day I saw a way to move toward the kind of life that 
was my goal, a life with Red home to be a father to the children we were 
going to have. I made this decision in the aftermath of Red's having been 
home for twenty-four hours and then leaving again for another run. When he 
had first come home I had walked into the apartment from work to find him 
sitting at the table just finishing a letter. He was sealing the envelope 
when I opened the door. He had stuck it in his coat pocket, saying, "I 
dashed off a note to Mom. Remind me to send it." 

The next day when he was gone again, I remembered the letter still in his 
coat pocket in the closet. I went over and took it out, noticing its Oregon 
address. What was his mother like? I wondered. I wished I could meet her, 
that she could know Red and I were married. His family was really my family, 
too. 

I decided on the spur of the moment to write to his mother. ii felt that if 
I told her how much I loved her son, a dialogue would be started that would 
surely lead to her acceptance of our marriage and an understanding between 
everyone involved so that we could be the one big happy family I was sure we 
were intended to be. I wouldn't come right out and tell her we were married 
in the first letter; I just wanted her to know how much Red and I cared for 
each other. 

When I was finished, I dropped both my letter and Red's original one into 
the mail box on the corner, certain I had done the right thing. I was sure 
Red wouldn't mind. 

I never found out how Red reacted to it, because four days later, on a 
Sunday afternoon while Red was off on a run, I received a personal response 
to my letter from a pretty, brown-haired, magnificently pregnant young 
woman. 

"Did you send this letter?" she asked nervously when I opened the door, 
holding it up in front of me with a trembling hand. 

I nodded, bewildered. I recognized my handwriting. It was the letter I'd 
sent, all right, but I had sent it to Red's mother. 

"May I come in?" she asked quietly. "I received this letter from you Friday. 
I'm Mrs. Red Mason." 

"Mrs. Red Mason?" I repeated incredulously, suddenly feeling sick. 

"May I come in?" She sounded as sick as I felt. 

"Yes . . . yes . . . of course," I stammered. "You're married to Red?" 

She nodded. 

I sank into a chair, feeling it was the end of the world. "I didn't know!" I 
wailed. "He said it was his mother and brother and sister. I thought I was 
writing to his mother." 

"You're in love with him, that's clear from your letter," she said, 
anguished and hurt. "Are you having an affair?" 

"We were married six months ago," I said in a daze. 

The color drained out of her face; she gripped the arm of her chair. "No!" 
she whispered. "Oh, no!" 

We just sat looking at each other, we two who had loved and married the same 
man. No wonder Red had fought marriage! All he'd wanted was the comforts of 
married life at this end of his run. He'd wanted that enough to become a 
bigamist. I had been used, and I was enraged, as well as hurt. 

"He deceived us both!" I said angrily to his wife. "What are we going to 
do?" she asked in an unhappy monotone. 

"What are you going to do?" I countered. 

She took a deep breath. "Nothing," she said quietly. "He's my husband, the 
father of my children. I love him. Maybe he isn't worthy of my love, but 
that doesn't change how I feel. You're not the first other woman in his 
life. But he didn't marry the others." 

"You mean you'll stay married to him?" I could hardly believe what she was 
saying. She looked down at her hands. "I'll stay married to Mm." 

"Well, I wouldn't," I said firmly. 

One of her hands touched her swollen abdomen. "What will you do?" she asked 
anxiously. "If you prosecute, he could go to jail. I need him, and our 
children need him," 

"I don't know what has to be done to dissolve the marriage," I told her 
dully. "I'll have to see a lawyer. I don't want revenge. I just want to get 
out of this and forget Red." 

"I'm Sorry," she said after a long, uncomfortable silence. "I'm sorry you've 
been hurt. It was rotten of Red." 

It was rotten of him, all right, but it wasn't her fault. I pitied her, 
though, for still loving him. 

She stayed a few minutes longer, repeating her regrets and telling me to 
have the lawyer contact Red for the legal fees. After she left, I sat down, 
with only ashes of my dreams for comfort, too bitter and numb to feel any 
pain. After a moment, I got up and walked over to the phone and dialed 
Triple A. 

I quit my job the next morning and moved to another apartment without 
leaving a forwarding address so I wouldn't run the chance of having any 
further contact with Red. I never wanted to see him again. The day after 
that, I saw an attorney and told him the entire story. All I wanted was out, 
and I told him so. I guess it was an old story to him. He assured me he'd 
secure an annulment, and neither Red nor I would need to be present. It 
would simply go through by default. 

Several weeks later, it did. When I received the notice, I stared at it. I'd 
been married, and the marriage had ended without anyone knowing it had taken 
place. Finally I buried the legal document in a drawer and covered it up. I 
would have to forget Red, and my marriage to him. 

I had visions of finding a completely different kind of job, perhaps working 
for a dress designer or something. However, after a few days of job. 
hunting, I was quickly yanked back down to earth. Because my only work 
experience was making out bills of lading at a warehouse, and because I was 
obviously too young-even if I lied about my age-to have had extensive work 
experience, I had to rely on what I already knew how to do to get another 
job. So I wound up working in another warehouse with exactly the same kind 
of job, and once again it was in an all-male situation. 

And then one day things improved. Late one afternoon I was working like mad, 
trying to catch up with a lot of work that had accumulated when a number of 
deliveries had been made at once. It was always like this just before the 
weekend. My boss, a sixty-year-old gray-haired man named Mr. Fields, came 
over to my desk and asked me how I was doing. 

"Well, I'm doing the best I can, Mr. Fields," I answered, "but I don't know 
if I'm going to be able to finish all of this by five o'clock. There's an 
awful lot of work here." 

"I know," he said understandingly. "I'll bet you could use some help." 

"I sure could," I said, "but until I get some, if you'll excuse me, I've got 
to get back to work or I'll never finish." 

"I'll tell you what," he said. "You've really worked hard for us, and I 
think we're going to reward you by getting yaw some help. How would you like 
an assistant?" 

"I'd love it," I said looking up in surprise from the stack of papers on my 
desk. 

"Good," he smiled, "we'll start looking for a girl next Monday." 

When I went home that evening I felt better than I had in some time. 

The girl they eventually hired was named Katrina Farrow. She was older than 
I was by about ten years, somewhere in her late twenties. She was thin, 
tall, wiry, and dark, with short black hair. She was attractive in a kind of 
no-nonsense way and seemed to exude efficiency. 

We seemed to hit it off right away. She quickly revealed to me that she had 
quit her last job because she hadn't gotten along with her supervisor, a 
man, and took this one because they told her she would be working with a 
woman. It turned out that Katrina lived alone, too. "I was married once," 
she confided in me. "I've had it with that whole scene. I don't need men." 

"How can you be so sure?" I said. 

"Listen, when you get to be my age you'll realize that all men are out for 
themselves and they only use women. 

Based on my experiences so far I certainly had to agree with that, but I had 
faith that she was wrong in the long run. Still, it was stimulating to talk 
with someone the way I talked to her, and I enjoyed our friendship which 
soon blossomed. After we had worked together for a couple of weeks Katrina 
invited me to spend the weekend with her in the mountains, and I quickly 
agreed. "I have an uncle who has a cabin in the mountains," she explained. 
"It's only about fifty miles from here, beautiful country, and I'm sure 
you'll love it." 

The drive up to her uncle's cabin was peaceful and refreshing as we left the 
smoggy city and started the ascent through the clear air up into the 
mountains. It seemed like forever since I'd escaped from the rat race of the 
city. On the way we stopped at a tiny country store and bought some food for 
our weekend-steaks, wine, fresh fruit, cheese. It was quite a contrast to 
the TV dinners, hamburgers, and Kentucky Fried Chicken I'd been used to 
living on. 

After we got to the cabin and had eaten, we sat beside the roaring fire in 
the fireplace, and I had never been more content. I was relaxing when 
Katrina asked, "Would you like a smoke?" 

"Thank you," I said, "but you know I don't smoke, Katrina." 

"Not that, kind," she said. "I mean I've got some great grass and I thought 
maybe you'd like to try some." 

I'd never tried marijuana, and ordinarily would have been shocked by her 
offer. However, I felt so loose and relaxed that I was definitely in an 
anything-goes type of mood. "Why not?" I responded. 

"Groovy," she said as she took a foil pouch and some cigarette papers out of 
her purse. She quickly came up with an expertly made cigarette. "I'll go 
first," she said, lighting it. She took a large drag and inhaled deeply, 
holding the smoke inside her as long as she could. "See how it's done?" she 
said after she finally released the smoke, filling the room with a sweet 
scent. 

I nodded my head. When she reached over and handed me the cigarette, I took 
it without hesitation and inhaled, holding the smoke in my lungs as I had 
seen her do. 

We continued to pass the joint back and forth, and when it was just a butt 
and I was having trouble holding it, I started to put it out in the ashtray. 
"No, don't do that," said Katrina. "The roach is the best part. Let me have 
it." 

I shrugged and handed it over to her. 

She had taken what looked like a pair of tweezers out of her purse and used 
them to hold what she called the roach as she dragged deeply on it. "This 
stuff is expensive," she said, "can't waste it." 

"Gee," I said, "I feel thirsty. I think I'll go out to the kitchen and get a 
drink of water." As I got to my feet and started to walk across the room I 
lost my balance and stumbled forward. I felt giddy. When I stumbled again, 
Katrina laughed. 

"Why are you laughing?" I asked. 

"Because you're stoned." 

"Is that what it's like," I said, "not being able to walk straight?" 

"Just relax and enjoy it," she said. "That's what it's all about. If you're 
thirsty let me pour some more wine for you. Grass makes you thirsty and 
there's nothing better to quench it than a little vino." 

As I plopped back down into my chair I was acutely aware of sinking into the 
cushion, almost as though I were in a slow-motion movie and watching myself. 

"Oh, what a feeling," I had to admit, "what a feeling." I lay back in my 
chair and closed my eyes and watched a rainbow of colon swirl before me. As 
I relaxed with my eyes closed, I could hear Katrina say, "Whew, it's hot in 
here. That fire's getting to be more than I bargained for. Don't you think 
it's hot in here?" 

"Yes, now that you mention it," I said, "it is. Should we open a window?" 

"No," she said, "it's too cold outside for that." 

"What should we do?" 

"I'll tell you what let's do. If we took off our clothes," she suggested, 
"it would be just right. Not too cold and not too hot." 

In my stoned condition that seemed like a good idea and I quickly agreed to 
it. We both stood up and shucked off our outer clothing. I stood there in my 
bra and panties thinking that Katrina was right, that it was more 
comfortable with less clothes on. 

Then I noticed that Katrina had stripped all the way and was completely 
naked. She had a trim, athletic-looking body with small firm tits and a 
triangle of pitch-black cunt hair beneath her flat, firm stomach. 

"Come on," she said, "why don't you take them all off, there's nothing to be 
afraid of." 

"Okay," I agreed, not being able to think of any reason why I shouldn't. I 
unhooked my bra and let it fall to the floor, and stepped out of my panties. 
I felt free and loose. 

"Come on, let's sit down on the rug in front of the fire," she beckoned. 

We sat in front of the fire, side by side. The heat swooped up between my 
legs and sent a funny sensation through my body. I looked over at Katrina 
and saw that she was staring at me. "Is something wrong?" I asked. 

"Nothing, nothing at all," she said quietly. "In fact, everything's just 
perfect." Then she moved toward me on her knees and embraced me, kissing me 
on the lips, our tits squeezing together, the nipples touching and rubbing 
each other. As her tongue flicked inside of my mouth, I suddenly felt a wet 
warm rush between my legs and pressed back against Katrina. I could feel 
Katrina's hand now stroking one of my tilt It felt so good the only thing I 
could think of to do was return the favor and begin fondling her tits. 

Finally the kiss ended and Katrina whispered into my ear, "Lie back on the 
rug." As with everything else during the evening, I saw no reason not to and 
flopped onto my back. 

"Now," whispered Katrina, "I'm going to show you why men are unnecessary. 
I'm going to teach you a way for a woman to drown another woman in joy. 
Spread your thighs." 

"Mmmmm," I murmured as I did as she asked, placing my now sopping cunt in 
complete view. 

"Your pussy is charming," Katrina murmured as she lowered her head between 
my open thighs and began smothering my cuntlips and clitoris with kisses, 
adding to the hot wetness that had taken over between my legs. 

"Oooooh," she said gutturally, "how I adore your soft pussy." She placed her 
hand on my cunt and gently spread the lips apart with her fingers. "I can 
see your clit better now. It's so pink and so hard. I'm going to suck it." 

Katrina's mouth enclosed my clitoris, sucking it voraciously. The sensation 
engulfed my: whole body, which was beginning to vibrate in ecstasy. Never 
had anything felt so good as the room swirled around me while Katrina 
continued to eat my cunt. 

"Oh, God," I moaned, "that's wonderful." 

"Now eat me while I eat you," suggested Katrina. She quickly shifted around 
so that she was straddled on top of me wit her back to me, her head buried 
in my crotch licking and sucking my pussy, and her sopping, pungent, hairy 
cunt staring me in the eye. It dripped with moisture and seemed to be 
breathing, its glistening pink folds framed by unruly black hair. I thought 
it was the most beautiful sight I'd ever seen in my life. 

Quickly I put my hands on Katrina's hips and moved her just so until she was 
sitting directly on my face, the spreading lips of her cunt placed directly 
on the lips of my mouth. I shot my probing tongue up her pussy, working it 
around in a furious arc, tasting her sweet juices all the while. So this is 
what cunt tastes like, I thought dreamily as I worked my tongue harder and 
harder, stretching the muscle to its full capacity. 

"Feel my tits," I heard her say, and I immediately lifted my hands from her 
hips and placed them over her tits, gently pinching and rubbing her erect 
nipples while both of our tongues simultaneously explored the depths of each 
other's gushing cunts. 

The pleasure was more than I could bear. My body began to writhe 
uncontrollably under the influence of Katrina's expert sucking and licking 
and tongue-kicking. I knew I was going to come and come hard. A blinding 
shudder shot through me, and force of habit caused me to anticipate a rush 
of jism inside me to accompany my orgasm. But, instead, Katrina just 
redoubled her sucking and began rubbing my asshole, sticking a tender finger 
up it, and instead of coming down after my orgasm, her efforts seemed to 
take me to new heights. 

She seemed to be reading my mind as she briefly raised her mouth from my 
throbbing cunt and said, "When you're with a man you have to stop just when 
it's getting good. With another woman you can go on forever." 

A few moments after she'd spoken I could feel Katrina's body stiffen on top 
of me. "Suck, suck harder!" she suddenly cried, and as I accelerated my 
efforts, sending my entire tongue up her cunt and rubbing my teeth against 
her clit, she came in a profound shudder, drenching my face with gooey 
wetness. 

Then she got off me. With me still lying on the rug, Katrina slipped down 
between my thighs, facing toward me in the same position that a man would 
use to fuck me. Instantly I could feel the scalding wetness of her spongy 
cunt pressing against mine, which was in an identical condition. She began 
to rub her crotch hotly against mine, our cuntlips and clits intermingled as 
one, mixing our oozing discharges, creating a mutual friction that felt as 
exciting to me as any cock that had ever fucked me. Our hands reached out to 
each other's tits and we stimulated our nipples while our cunts ground into 
one another. 

"Wrap your legs around me!" she cried. My ankles locked around her shoulders 
as we pumped at each other even more furiously. The feeling was so intense 
that I felt as though my clitoris were actually penetrating her. 

Already on an orgasmic plane, after a couple of minutes of trading and 
sharing pelvic thrusts I suddenly felt as if I had been elevated to the 
ceiling, and from there launched into outer space. I felt like I was 
discharging quarts of pussy juice and being drenched by similar amounts of 
the scalding contents of Katrina's cunt. 

"My God!" I screamed. "I'm in orbit!" 

"Welcome aboard," she said as our bodies locked even tighter so that we 
seemed welded together in our journey into sexual infinity. 

Later, as we lay in bed together, Katrina gently stroked my tits while I 
placed a hand in her warm, moist cunt. It was one of the most tender moments 
I had ever shared with anyone. 

"I love you," whispered Katrina. 

I didn't even have to think about my reply. "I love you, too," I answered as 
she pressed her thighs together and warmly squeezed my hand. 

 Chapter Six 

I don't suppose that I've ever spent a happier two days than that weekend 
with Katrina in the mountains. After sucking each other's cunts the first 
night, we awoke the next morning in each other's arms. At first I was 
surprised to realize where I was, that it all wasn't a dream as I became 
aware that we were in bed together and that I was locked in a naked embrace 
with another woman. However, I never felt any shock, or shame, or regret, 
and certainly didn't wish I were any place else. I was grateful that it 
wasn't a dream. 

"Good morning, darling," Katrina said, her eyes opening sleepily. 

"Good morning," I replied, tightening my arms affectionately around her and 
gently inserting my knee in her crotch. I could feel her silky cunt bush 
tickling my kneecap as I moved slightly and kissed Katrina fully on the 
lips. 

One thing quickly led to another and before I knew it we were making love 
again, only this time I was on top, using all the tricks I had learned the 
night before as we rubbed, tickled, licked, and sucked each other to a 
series of multiple orgasms. I realized that the marijuana had had nothing to 
do with the pleasure I had felt the first time because the pleasure was even 
sweeter in the morning with a clear head. 

When we were finished and lay in bed side by side catching our breath, 
Katrina said, "Why don't you take it easy and I'll rustle us up some 
breakfast." 

"Okay," I agreed. "I think I'll take a hot bath while you're fixing 
breakfast." 

She got out of bed and put on a red checkered flannel shirt and started to 
button it over her small but exquisite tits. "Don't do that, darling," I 
implored. "I want to see your body the whole time we have alone together." 

"All right," she laughed, dropping the shirt to the floor. Then she walked 
over to where I was still lying and leaned down and kissed me gently. "But 
you have to promise not to take that bath. I want to smell our love on you." 

We had a glorious day, just relaxing and not doing anything in particular, 
completely caught up in the rapture of being with each other. We took a walk 
in the forest, picking wild flowers along the way, and holding hands as we 
walked, naked, through the huge trees. 

After walking for some time we came to a bubbling mountain stream. "Let's 
take a rest," I suggested. 

Katrina agreed and we sat down beneath a tree. After we had been sitting 
there for a moment she said, "Darling, I want to make love to you, right out 
in the open for the world to see." 

I immediately agreed. Since we had first made love I found that my sexual 
urge was always near the surface when I was with Katrina. I didn't see how I 
could ever tire of making love with her. 

Katrina spread me out beneath the majestic tree and I focused my eyes on its 
swooping branches and the blue sky above as she went down an me. This time I 
did nothing, just lay there as she sucked and tongue-fucked me to a 
delicious climax which left her face glistening with my cunt juice. 

When she was finished she leaned over to her right and picked a beautiful 
yellow flower and placed it tenderly between the lips of my cunt, gently 
kissing my clitoris before she pulled her head up and looked lovingly at me. 
"That honeysuckle is you," she said, "it's how I think of you. Beautiful and 
graceful with your lovely blonde hair. That's what I'm going to call you 
from now on. Honeysuckle. Because you're as graceful and lovely as a yellow 
flower, and because when I suck your cunt I taste honey." The sheer romantic 
tenderness of what she had done caused me to experience another orgasm 
through mere words. 

That evening Katrina and I were back in the cabin and preparing dinner when 
I said, "Do you mind If I ask you something?" 

"Of course not," she said. 

"Promise you won't get mad," I said hesitantly. 

"Not at you, Honeysuckle, never," she promised. 

"Well, uh," I hemmed and hawed, "I always thought when two girls made love 
that one of them used, you know, a rubber cock." 

She laughed. "Oh, you mean a dildo. Some do, but only those who are 
inexperienced or confused. Sex between two women is so beautiful and so much 
more satisfying than ordinary sex that there's no reason to try and imitate 
a man with one of those things. Anything a man's got, a woman doesn't need, 
so why try and impersonate one? All a dildo does is bring you down to the 
level of a man." 

After dinner, with the fire roaring again, we once again found ourselves 
unable to keep our hands and mouths off each other. In the middle of loving 
caresses and passionate groping, Katrina suddenly suggested we shave our 
cunts. "Wait till you experience the sensation of my tongue without any hair 
to get in its way," she said. 

"What a fascinating idea," I had to agree. Also, my feminine curiosity was 
stimulated because although I was a woman I had never really been aware of 
what a cunt looked like until my affair with Katrina. Now, of course, I was 
fascinated by them. With the hair gone I would be able to fully explore to 
my heart's content the full anatomy of a cunt, and the idea thrilled me 
immensely, as Katrina quickly noticed when she was lathering my bush. 

"If you keep this up," she laughed, "I won't have to use any lather! I can 
shave you in your own juice. 

The strokes of the razor sent a feeling of delicious friction pulsating 
through my loins as Katrina carefully shaved off every hair. When she 
finished and I looked down at my cunt, I was amazed that it was such a fully 
formed mound, that it seemed to have at least as much definition and 
character as the male organ. I was proud to be a woman, and glad I had a 
cunt rather than a cock. 

"Now you shave me," said Katrina, which I immediately did. I lathered her 
up, taking great precaution to get the foam in just the right places, 
leaving her cuntlips and slit uncovered in their pink and glistening glory. 

After I was finished, Katrina said, "Come on, let's go to the mirror." There 
was a floor-length mirror on the other side of the room, and following 
Katrina's lead I went over to it and sat alongside her in front of the 
mirror, spreading my legs as she did. The mirror revealed two fantastically 
beautiful cunts staring at us, with every feature of them in crystal 
clarity, including the sparkling drops of girl Juice that were oozing out of 
each. 

"And now, Honeysuckle," Katrina said, calling me by my new name, "you keep 
your eyes on the mirror and watch while II give you an absolutely 
unforgettable finger-fuck." 

What a joy it was to watch her experienced fingers probe every nook and 
cranny of my cunt in full view. The fact that I was watching everything made 
it all the more stimulating. Even the pink nub of my clitoris was clearly 
apparent in the mirror as Katrina rubbed and twitted it, sending me into 
gales of delight. As I came, with my eyes riveted to the mirror watching my 
hairless cunt virtually breathing as Katrina expertly finger fucked it to 
glory, I couldn't help but thinking, how can there be any other way? 

All too soon our weekend was over. I felt a touch of real sadness as we put 
on our clothes, the act signifying that our idyll was over and that we had 
to return to the real world of work and frustrations. Without being able to 
help myself, I started to sob. 

"What's wrong, Honeysuckle?" Katrina asked gently. 

"It's just that it's all been so wonderful," I said through my tears. I 
guess I don't want to go back and face everyday life.'' 

"I know, Honeysuckle," she said, kissing away my tears, "that boring job at 
the warehouse, smog, traffic, and men. But just remember, we'll still be 
together, and there'll be other weekends for as long as you like." 

With Katrina's kind words, the unpleasant images of my life back in the city 
faded before the picture of her strong, loving body, and the memory of her 
sweet sticky cunt in my face and her lips and tongue on mine, and I knew 
that I could go on. She kissed me tenderly on the lips, and as I returned 
the kiss I knew that everything was going to be all right. 

The road back from the cabin to the main highway was about thirty miles long 
and full of curves. After about ten miles the sky suddenly became filled 
with dark clouds. Soon after Katrina observed, "It looks like rain," the 
water began to come down in sheets. 

"Maybe we ought to pull over," I suggested as large rain drops furiously 
pelted her little Volkswagen. 

"No, that's all right," she said. "I've been over this road enough times to 
be familiar with it. We'll be all right," and she looked, over at the radio 
dial and began tuning it with one hand while steering the car with other. 

I guess Katrina was looking at the radio dial as we entered the curve and 
never saw the logging truck that came steaming around the corner toward us 
out of the rainy mist. The last thing I remember was the windshield jumping 
toward me and the explosion of breaking glass as I seemed to be hurled into 
another world with the sound of Katrina's screaming echoing in my ears. 

When I woke up I was in what was obviously a hospital bed. I put my hand up 
to my face and felt bandages all over it. I screamed. 

A doctor and a nurse rushed into the room. 

"My face! My face!" I cried. "What's wrong with my face?" 

The elderly white-haired doctor leaned down toward me and said softly, "I'm 
afraid you've been in a bad accident. Your car ran off the road and you went 
through the windshield." 

Suddenly the haunting memory of Katrina's screams filled my consciousness. 
"Katrina!" I gasped. "Where's Katrina? Is she. . ?" 

"Yes," he said gently, "I'm afraid she didn't make it." 

I let out a long moan and lapsed into unconsciousness. 

When I had gone through the windshield, even though my face had been 
severely cut, it had probably saved my life because I was thrown clear of 
the wreckage. However, a tree stump had stopped my flight, breaking bones in 
both of my legs, my right hip, my collarbone, and several ribs. There were 
no internal injuries, but my broken bones would take a long time to heal, 
including at least three months in the hospital. 

Fortunately the cuts in my face weren't too deep and face wasn't scarred. 
But my heart and soul were. The injuries were bad enough, but nothing 
alongside the anguish I felt knowing that Katrina, the one true love of my 
life, was gone almost immediately after coming into it. In my sorrow I made 
the decision that to keep the memory of Katrina alive in me, I would use the 
name she had given me, Honeysuckle. The way I felt it was more of a name to 
me than the one given to me by my mother, since Katrina had loved me and 
Margot had always just tolerated me. When the hospital attempted to identify 
me I told them my first name was Honeysuckle. The nurse cocked her eyebrow 
in surprise when I said it, but said nothing other than, "That's a very 
unusual name." Later, however, when my medical records from home arrived at 
the hospital they listed my first name as Janis, a discrepancy which the 
head nurse quickly noticed and confronted me with. 

"I'm sorry," I said, "but my name is Honeysuckle, and I insist you have me 
listed as that." 

"But your medical records clearly list your first name as Janis," she said. 

"It was Janis," I explained, "but I've changed it since then." 

"Well, unless you have legal proof that it's been changed," she said firmly, 
"you're Janis." 

"Please, please," I begged, "you don't know how important this is to me. 
Please, my name is Honeysuckle!" 

"Well, if it's that important to you," the head nurse said thoughtfully, 
"maybe we can work something out. It's important for you to be in good 
mental health if you're going to recover physically. If it'll make you feel 
better, I'll tell you what. We'll have to leave Janis on the chart, but 
we'll add the notation that you like to be called Honeysuckle. How's that?" 

"Oh, thank you, thank you," I said gratefully. I wound up spending four 
months in the main hospital, and then I was transferred to a halfway 
facility so I could receive physical therapy to regain the use of my legs. 
It was like learning to walk all over again. The bills for all this must 
have been enormous, but, fortunately, I had hospital coverage from my job, 
and, for once, I was glad I had worked in that warehouse. However, I knew 
that when I got better I couldn't be going back because there were just too 
many painful memories associated with it. I knew I'd never be able to 
concentrate on my work there, remembering Katrina by my side. 

While I was in treatment I celebrated my seventeenth birthday. The day was 
on my chart and I was pleasantly surprised when the therapy staff surprised 
me with a birthday cake. The cake had twenty-one candles on it because I had 
added four extra years on my age to get my job and my medical records had 
been assembled and transferred through the insurance company which covered 
the warehouse. It was really more appropriate that way because I actually 
felt as though I were twenty-one, officially an adult, now starting on the 
most crucial phase of my life. 

It was around this time that I met Tom, who was to have an important bearing 
on my decision as to what to do with my life. 

Tom came into the physical therapy unit about a month after I did at a time 
when I was already showing marked improvement and getting around 
increasingly more. He hadn't been hurt nearly as badly as I had, although we 
had a lot in common. Mainly, he was also from the city and had been on 
vacation in the mountains and had been involved in an automobile accident. 
He was an interesting-looking man in his early twenties. He wasn't really 
handsome but he was very attractive, and from his first day in the unit 
every woman patient and nurse was taken with him. Charm plus personality, 
that was Tom. And it was me he singled out to make friends with almost from 
the first day he appeared in the unit. 

I was sitting down reading a book when he wheeled up to me and said, "What's 
a nice girl like you doing in a joint like this?" 

I laughed and pointed to the walking cast I was still wearing, and said, 
"What's a lousy joint like this doing in a girl like me?" 

He thought that was pretty funny, and we became friendly right away. 
However, I made sure that our conversations didn't go too far beyond the 
joking stage. I purposely kept him at a distance because I didn't want to 
get involved with anybody at that point. I felt I was too insecure to risk 
another romance with either a man or a woman. 

However, I had to admit to myself that after months without sex, now that I 
was getting physically better my sexual urges were coming back. Frequently 
during the night I would find myself dreaming of sex. The lovers in my 
dreams seemed to be of both sexes simultaneously, or, frequently, a man 
would start to fuck me and then turn into a woman, or vice versa. In one 
dream I was sucking the clitoris of a lover that vaguely seemed to me to be 
Katrina. Then, suddenly, as I kissed the pink glistening nub, it grew into 
an enormous cock, about the size of Red's, that brutally forced its way into 
my mouth and started choking me. I awoke gasping for breath, a sharp, 
tingling sensation between my legs. Putting my hand to my crotch I quickly 
discovered that my cunt was wringing wet. My touch on my pussy excited me 
even more, and before I knew it I was rubbing my clitoris, and then 
finger-fucking myself. 

The hair on my cunt had long since grown back and I could feel it matted 
from my juices as I worked my finger up my hole and circulated the palm of 
my hand over my clitoris and the moist folds of my juicy cunt. I pushed my 
finger, then two, then three, in and out of my cunt at an accelerating 
speed, lifting my ass from the sheets and arching my back and spreading try 
legs to accommodate my pumping. 

With my free hand I began to massage my tits, paying particular attention to 
my nipples which astounded me with their sensitivity and hardness. As I 
continued to finger my cunt I could feel a shudder spread through my body 
and I quickly came. After that there were many more dreams capped off with 
frantic masturbation, sometimes even using pieces of fruit to penetrate my 
hungry cunt. 

Meanwhile, after I was living in the physical therapy unit and masturbating 
almost nightly, Tom started pressing me to deepen our friendship. I 
continued to make jokes and to avoid going any further. I had a good time 
with him, but I didn't let him get close to me. For weeks he took it like a 
good sport. And then, finally, one afternoon as we sat alone together he 
leaned over and kissed me. 

"Please don't do that," I said. 

Suddenly his face flushed and he said, almost angrily, "What h waste. You're 
beautiful. You look like you were made for love; but I swear you're made out 
of ice. I don't even know why I want to kiss you. It would probably be 
wasted emotion." 

I don't know why, but when he said that I felt like my sex appeal was being 
challenged, the one thing I had always depended on. I was confused, and felt 
uncertain of myself. To mask my quandary I teased him, saying, "Want to 
bet?" 

He looked at me, his anger suddenly gone. "Dinner's on me if you lose," he 
said. 

"Where do we make the test?" 

"Right here, Honeysuckle," he said, embracing me. 

When he called me that a sensation of longing engulfed me. When we had 
originally met I had told him that was my name, but probably because it was 
unusual, he generally avoided calling me by name. Now when he said it under 
these circumstances, I felt that he understood me and could be trusted; that 
he cared for me as a human being. As he passionately kissed me, I returned 
the favor, our tongues darting into each other's mouths. 

When we broke off the kiss for air, Tom led me to a secluded corner where he 
kissed me with even more passion. It had started out as a silly bet, 
something to be done in fun and games, but the first kiss had quickly ended 
all notions that we were playing, and now Tom was running his hands over my 
body as our lips met. My tits tingled under his touch, and without even 
thinking about the consequences, I welcomed the pressure of his leg which he 
thrust into my crotch, rubbing my cunt sensuously. 

By the Tom ended the second kiss and nuzzled my ear, whispering, "I've never 
been so glad to lose a bet," all restraint was gone and I was anxious to go 
on. 

It had been so long since I had been physically involved with another person 
that I had forgotten what it was actually like. I found myself overcome with 
excitement, almost as though it were the first time I'd ever made out with a 
boy. Tom heightened my stimulation by working his hands over my tits which 
were shielded only by a flimsy bra and a thin cotton blouse. Then he dropped 
an arm and brought his hand up under the folds of my skirt, cupping my 
sopping cunt through the drenched crotch of my panties, and I knew I was 
really hot and didn't want to turn back. 

The other patients in the unit were off in therapy, or out in town on 
passes, so we were alone in the recreation room. We had moved over to a 
secluded, dark corner and our movements were shielded by a potted rubber 
tree plant that would conceal us if anyone should happen into the room. 
Still, if we were to do anything, we'd have to do it rapidly because if a 
whole group of people came in we'd be detected. 

With this in mind, I quickly dropped to my knees and began frantically 
fooling with Tom's zipper, hungrily reaching through the folds of his pants 
and shorts for his cock. As my hands found it and wrapped around its shaft, 
I could feel that it was a big one and as hard as a rock. Pulling the cock 
out and wrapping my lips around it, it suddenly occurred to me that it had 
been about six months since I had even seen a man's cock, let alone sucked 
one. This served to motivate me to suck it harder, encircling his waist with 
my arms and pressing my hands against the soft flesh of his asscheeks in 
order to pull him toward my face so his cock would ram down my throat. Since 
time was a factor, I furiously slid my lips back and forth along his shaft, 
stopping at the top to tickle his cockhead with my tongue, and then plunging 
back down to the base and his balls, which I had now removed from his 
trousers and was massaging with my hand as I blew him. 

Tom's moans were getting louder from my tantalizing sucking, and I knew I 
had to finish him off. before he made so much noise he attracted people from 
other parts of the building. I revolved my mouth, taking his burning prick 
in my mouth down to his pubic hair, and then sliding back again to the tip, 
then sucking it down again. I covered his cock with the circular up-and-down 
motion of my mouth, while my tongue caressed all of his prick I could reach. 
My handiwork soon netted results as I could feel his cock arch into a 
swelling curve inside my mouth and suddenly thrust halfway down my throat, 
shooting a spurting series of huge globs of scalding cum like an automatic 
rifle firing hot lead. I made sure I swallowed every drop of his jism so 
there would be no trace of what we had been up to. 

When we were finished and Tom was putting his cock back into his pants, he 
said with genuine concern, "What about you, Honeysuckle? You gave me 
pleasure, but I wasn't able to do the same for you." 

Oh, if only he knew what a thrill it was to suck a cock after so long, I 
thought, but kept it to myself. Besides, I was pleased that he was so 
concerned about my satisfaction, something that hadn't exactly been a usual 
quality in the self-centered men I had known. On the other hand, I wasn't 
sure whether my attraction to him was sincere, or the result of being 
starved for sex for so long, and I didn't want to encourage him until I was 
sure. So I responded to his concern with silence. 

"Tonight," he said, "tonight. We'll get passes and go to that restaurant we 
were talking about, and then rent a room for a couple of hours. I promise 
you, you won't be sorry." 

"No, we can't," I said. "The town's so small that there's only one hotel. 
Everybody would find out about it." 

He chuckled softly. "What if they did? We're all grown up." 

"No," I insisted, "I just don't think I could take that right now." 

"Well, then, where and when?" he said urgently. 

"I'm sorry," I begged off, "you'll have to let me think about it." I was 
putting that distance between us again and I knew it. But I had to be sure 
before I got involved with anyone again, even somebody as attractive as Tom. 

That night, however, as I undressed for bed, I realized that he had gotten 
me very worked up when we were together, and the sight of my naked body 
before the mirror only served to heighten the warmth that was swimming in my 
body and the clenching sensation in my cunt. I couldn't restrain myself any 
longer. Sitting on the edge of the bed naked so that I could get a full 
picture of myself in the mirror, I spread my legs to get a complete view of 
ray throbbing pussy. I placed my fingers at each side of it and pulled back 
the lips, baring my moist, pink clit, and my gaping hole. I worked my 
fingers around the warm lips, feeling the sticky discharge of my cunt on my 
fingertips, the pleasure shooting through me. 

The reflection in the mirror showed a basket of fruit on the nightstand, 
including a large banana. Quickly, I reached over and grabbed the long, 
curving yellow piece of fruit and began licking it for lubrication, sucking 
on it as I would a prick. Then I placed it between my legs watching the 
process in the mirror as I worked its head between my parted cuntlips and 
worked it inside of me. Rhythmically I worked it in and out of my cunt, 
using my free hand to rub my clit, teasing it, and flicking the stiff nub 
back and forth with my index finger until the feeling was almost too much to 
bear. When I was on the brink of orgasm, I shoved the banana all the way 
into my cunt and felt a blinding flash as I came to a shuddering climax. 

 Chapter Seven 

My checkup the following week revealed that I was making steady improvement. 
"You're not as good as new, yet," the doctor said, "but you're getting 
there. Just keep up the good work." 

"Doctor," I said, "I think I'd like to be released and go back home." 

"Well, there's no mason why you can't," he said. "Would it be all right if I 
left at the end of this week? I have to make some arrangements about where 
I'm going to stay when I go back to the city." 

"Whenever it's convenient for you," he said understandingly. 

When the doctor was gone I began to dwell on the twin dilemma that faced me. 
Not only was my deadline for making my mind up about Tom almost up, I had 
the task of making arrangements for where I was going to be staying in the 
city until I could find a job and get a place of my own. I had no friends 
with whom I could stay, and, of course, had had to let my apartment go after 
I had been in the accident. As distasteful as the idea was, there was no 
place to turn except to my so-called family, meaning Margot. 

When Margot had been notified that I was in the accident and in serious 
condition, she had handled it in her usual indifferent manner. When she 
finally did show up to visit me, however, there was a sign that she had been 
worried about me, although, as usual her concern seemed to be attuned to her 
own needs instead of mine. 

I didn't like the idea of going to her with my hat in my hand, but it seemed 
I had no alternative. With this in mind, I place a long distance call to 
her. 

The conversation went around in circles at first, with Margot barely able to 
get past the news I was about to be released so she could breathlessly tell 
me about her new boyfriend. "Oh, you'd love him," she said excitedly. "He's 
only a bus driver, but he has so much more culture than that, and he's so 
good-looking. 

"That's nice," I said, and then tried to change the subject. "Listen, 
Margot, are you living alone now, or what?" 

"What do you want to know for?" she asked indignantly. "I see you still 
haven't shaken that puritanical streak your grandmother put in you." 

"No, Margot, that's not why I want to know," I attempted to explain. 

"Well, then what do you want to know for?" 

"I want to ask a favor of you." 

"Really?" she said, her mood suddenly changing, as if she were about to 
receive an unexpected surprise. 

"Yes. I don't have any money, and I need a place to stay temporarily. So I 
was wondering if I could come live with you-until I find a job and get my 
first paycheck, of course." 

She was obviously pleased. "Of course, darling. What a wonderful idea. Now 
that you're older, I'm sure we have a lot more in common than we used to. 
You come and stay as long as you'd like. We can be just like sisters. Why, 
I'll bet we can even share the same clothes. I'm still the same size I was 
when I was eighteen." Then she laughed and continued, "The only thing I'll 
draw the line on is sharing men, if you know what I mean." 

It almost seemed when she said that as if she knew about what I had been 
doing with her boyfriends for the five years before I ran off with Jeff. 

By the time we'd finished our conversation, the issue had been settled and I 
was going to be staying with Margot. Of course she was "too busy" to drive 
out from the city and take me back to town, but then that was Margot, always 
too busy for her only child. I would have to take a Greyhound Bus in, and 
then a cab to her apartment. It was far from being a perfect arrangement, 
but I forced myself to look on the positive side of it. 

With one half of my dilemma solved, I now had to turn toward the other half, 
namely, what to do about Tom. He had been pestering me ever since our 
encounter in the secluded corner of the recreation room to go with him to 
the hotel, not being aware that I had made up my mind to leave. I had tried 
to avoid him, but he was persistent, and I had to admit that the more I saw 
of him, the more I liked him. 

The evening after the doctor had given me my examination, matters came to a 
head with Tom. I was walking down the hall toward my room, ready to begin 
packing, when I saw him camped in front of my door. 

"Hi," I said. "Is this a new service from the management, a man with every 
room?" 

"No," he laughed, "although I wish that were the case. No, seriously, 
Honeysuckle, I have to talk with you. I'm not spying on you or anything, but 
the mirror around the place is that you're leaving in a couple of days." 

"It's no rumor, it's the truth," I admitted. 

He looked somewhat hurt. "Why didn't you tell me?" 

"I was going to," I said. "This evening. It was just that I wanted to think 
a few things over before I told you." 

"Like what?" he said eagerly. "Like what about us? Where do we go from here, 
Honeysuckle?" 

When he called me by that name he was almost irresistible. "Tom, to tell you 
the truth, I've been trying to decide whether we have any future together, 
or whether we should break it off completely." 

"I think I can make up your mind for you right now," he said as he quickly 
embraced me, kissing me passionately. His lips pressed against mine, his 
tongue filling my mouth. As I willingly pressed back against him, there was 
no way I could miss the bulge in his pants that throbbed against me. Placing 
my hand down to his crotch and fondling his swelling cock, I knew there was 
no longer any question of my answer. 

When we broke the kiss, I said, "Tom, I'm going to be living temporarily 
with my mother in the city. I do want to see you when you get out. I'll give 
you the address before I go." 

"And the phone number," he amended. "I'm going to call you every night until 
I can see you again in the flesh, which shouldn't be too long." 

I started to say that I had to go in and start packing, but I couldn't tear 
myself away from him. Once again my hand dropped to his crotch, fondling the 
swelling curve of his prick straining under his pants. He embraced me again 
and whispered, "No one's around, let's go into your room." Most of the other 
patients were gone or busy, and it was early enough so that the nurses would 
not be checking the rooms. I nodded my head yes as I gave his cock a final 
affectionate squeeze before we opened the door. 

Once inside, we fell wildly into each other's arms, both of us about to 
realize what we had been deprived of for so long. Shaking, I snaked my hand 
inside Tom's pants and wrapped my fingers around his fat cock. I almost had 
to withdraw my fingers back in shock because of the intense heat of it. As I 
curled my fingers around his throbbing prick, I couldn't help but think that 
it seemed hotter than any cock I had ever held before. 

While I continued to massage and squeeze his prick, Tom hurriedly undid his 
pants and they dropped to the floor. With his dick still firmly in my hand, 
I parted my lips and thrust my mouth over the head. The moment he felt his 
cock being sucked, he grabbed my head and began to strongly fuck me in the 
mouth. 

Oh, God, I thought, it's wonderful! I was so excited and hot with his wildly 
thrusting cock battering away in my mouth that I was already having 
miniature orgasms, one following on the heels of the other in devastating 
fashion. 

"Please," he whispered with urgency, "take off your clothes. I want to see 
your body. I want to see you naked." 

I removed his prick from my mouth and took off my blouse and bra hurriedly 
and slid down my skirt and panties, standing nude before him. As he let out 
a low whistle and his cock sprang out even further, I lay down on the bed 
and spread my legs far apart, my open, drooling cunt inviting him to plunge 
his beautiful cock inside me and fuck me as hard as he could. 

When he came at me his cock was so hard that when it stabbed fiercely at my 
crotch it actually caused momentary pain. I grasped it firmly and steered 
his wildly throbbing cock into my juicy cuntlips. He thrust his prick all 
the way up to the hilt as I wrapped my cuntlips around the shaft tightly and 
clasped it in a frenzy of rapture. 

He fucked me with lightning speed and a penetration that was complete with 
every sharp stroke. I had another series of quick little orgasms that left 
me gasping for air while pumping my cunt up and down on Tom's swollen cock 
as he suddenly came in a molten onslaught. I drained him of every drop. The 
length of time he required to cease squirting his cum into my cunt was 
almost unbelievable. As I moaned and groaned and rolled beneath his 
squirting cock, it occurred to me that he probably hadn't fucked since he'd 
been in the hospital, and it pleased me that I was the recipient of all that 
store-up jism that was gushing into me like a river. 

Even though his hot offering eventually ceased, he continued to fuck me, his 
cock shooting in and pulling out of my cunt at a terrific rate. 

"My God," I murmured, "are you going to fuck me forever?'' 

Tom's naked body continued to pump away at my clutching cunt, and in a very 
short space of time he was once again delivering a load of scalding cum into 
me. Again I had an enormously satisfying orgasm, and again I moaned from the 
excruciating pleasure of it. 

But even this did not stop Tom. He seemed to pay no attention to anything 
other than the business at hand-his obviously insatiable lust to keep 
fucking, to once again bring the jism to the head of his cock and explode it 
within the gooey depths of my equally hungry cunt. 

Although I was already satisfied, I was hoping he could once again manage to 
bring it off. I knew how difficult it was for a man to ejaculate three times 
in succession, but Tom seemed different from other men. He seemed to have an 
unlimited supply of sexual energy stored up inside. 

Now I pressed my hands, palms downward, on his bare ass, the better to hold 
him place on top of my slippery, perspiration-drenched flesh. I wrapped my 
legs around his, hooking my toes underneath his calves for a firmer grip. 
Finding his mouth with my lips, I began to kiss him passionately as he 
fucked me with wild and reckless fury. 

God, how wonderful it was to have this tireless love machine on top of my 
nude body, pumping a swollen cock like a piston on a perpetual-motion device 
in and out of my sex-starved cunt. This was what I had wanted so very much, 
and how fortunate I was to have this stud come along at just the right time. 

"Oh, God," I sighed, pulling my lips from his, "are you really going to fuck 
me forever?" 

He acted as if he hadn't heard my question, although actually it hadn't been 
meant as a question but more as a request. He placed his hands under my ass 
and clutched the cheeks there fiercely as he kept on with his furious 
fucking movements, his cock going into me deeply with every fast, brutal 
stroke. 

"Tom, Tom," I sighed again, my voice shaking, for I was having still another 
orgasm. "You're going to kill me, fucking me this way. God, I love it!" 

Tom ejaculated inside me for the third time at that precise moment, and I 
once again thrilled to the touch of his throbbing cock as it erupted, 
spewing out its load of thick, hot man juice. 

"Oh, Jesus!" he cried, the first words he had spoken since I had steered his 
prick into my cunt in what seemed like ages ago, As his prick spurted once 
more, Tom shuddered, and then finally ceased to move in me. He lay still on 
top of me, his entire weight resting on me, for apparently he was too tired 
to hold himself up now after all of that fucking. I didn't mind, though, 
because I was very tired, too. It was nice having his hard body, naked and 
sweaty, on top of me. It was more than nice-it was heavenly. I wandered just 
how long his machine of a cock would remain hard inside me, and when minutes 
had passed and it showed no sign of growing soft, I sighed and patted his 
ass affectionately. 

Finally, he gasped, "I think I could fuck you all night, Honeysuckle." 

"Don't worry, darling," I answered, "when we're both back in the city you'll 
have your chance to make good on your boast." 

Two days later I checked out of the halfway house and was on my way back to 
the city, and Margot. As the bus approached the outskirts of town and 
familiar sights began to pop up outside the window, I started to feel 
vaguely depressed. I arrived at the bus station and took a cab to Margot's. 
I grew increasingly apprehensive as I drew closer to her apartment building. 
As I paid the cabbie and started up the walk, clutching my suitcase, I could 
feel my heart pounding. Then I grabbed hold of myself. Come on, Honeysuckle, 
this is silly, I said to myself. Margot can't get the best of you unless you 
let her. 

Margot had said she would leave the front door open if she wasn't home. I 
knocked a couple of times, but there was no answer so I let myself in. How 
typical of Margot, I thought. Not only was she too busy to come pick me up, 
she was even too busy to be home when I finally get here after hours of 
riding on a hot bus and in a stuffy taxi. 

Margot's apartment was standard for her. She had lived in four or five of 
them since Grandma's death, but it was almost impossible to distinguish one 
from another because they all reflected her plastic taste. They all looked 
like the inside of a Holiday Inn suite, with her little touches added here 
and there. 

I wandered into Margot's bedroom and chuckled to myself when I saw her 
dressing table was a jumble of cosmetics and false eyelash containers, with 
blonde and brunette wigs thrown in for good measure. 

Margot, despite her beauty had always been something of a slob, and I saw 
she hadn't changed. There were clothes strewn all over the bed, and 
underwear hanging from the bed post and lying on the floor. I also saw that 
her taste hadn't changed when I walked over to pick up a pair of panties 
that had fallen on the floor and discovered that they were crotchless, with 
pink lace surrounding the opening between the legs. 

I didn't know when Margot was going to be back, and I didn't feel like 
watching television. Since there was nothing to read I thought I'd keep 
myself occupied by cleaning the place up. I gathered up her clothes and 
folded them, placing them on the bed. Then I went over to her dresser and 
opened the drawers so I could find out where the different things went. I 
didn't intend to snoop, but the fourth drawer I opened revealed something 
which I couldn't resist looking at. Sitting on top of Margot's panties was a 
stack of photographs, apparently taken with a Polaroid camera. 

Maybe they're of her boyfriends, I thought. I wonder what they look like? As 
I picked up the photos and looked at them, I was shocked to see that they 
were pictures of naked men and women engaged in a variety of sexual 
activities. 

"I didn't know Margot went in for collecting pornography," I said aloud in 
wonder at discovering this unknown hobby of my mother's. 

But when I looked at the pictures more closely, I discovered that they were 
not just pornography, but candid photographs taken of Margot herself in 
compromising situations with a number of different men and women. There must 
have been over fifty of these pictures, all of them with Margot and men and 
women in all possible sexual situations. 

In a typical one, Margot was facing the camera, straddled across the torso 
of a faceless man with his huge cock inserted fully up her ass, while 
another man leaned into the picture licking her cunt. Margot's head was 
slightly turned so her mouth could receive the prick of a man leaning in 
from the side. I must say, she certainly looked like she was enjoying 
herself. 

In another one there was just Margot and man who she had apparently just 
finished blowing, because his cock dangled under her nose and white gobs of 
jism dripped down her face, curling down from the corners of her radiantly 
smiling lips. 

As I shuffled through the stack of photographs, it occurred to me that 
apparently Margot was part of some sort of swingers' group that got together 
for group sex and took pictures of their antics. Although the pictures were 
shocking, I had to admit that that sort of thing certainly was consistent 
with Margot's life style. 

When I came to the last picture, however, I was totally unprepared for it, 
and found myself breathless. In this photograph she was on her hands and 
knees while a German shepherd mounted her from behind and was actually 
fucking her. There was no doubt about it: the picture had been taken by an 
expert so that there was a knife-sharp focus on the dog's prick penetrating 
her hairy cunt. The picture was so expertly taken that I could actually see 
the moisture glistening on the folds and hair of her pussy as the dog's 
shiny cock thrust into her. 

Before I had a chance to catch my breath, I heard movement outside the front 
door. Margot! If she caught me with these pictures she'd surely think I was 
snooping. I hurriedly placed them back where I'd found them, closed the 
dresser drawer, and got back into the living room just as she was opening 
the door. 

"Hi ya, sweets," she said as she came in. "Been here long?" 

"Uh, no," I said, trying to hide my nervousness, "just a few minutes." 

"Gee," she said, "I'm sorry I missed your arrival, hut I stepped out to get 
some pink champagne. You know, to sort of celebrate your coming home." 

"How nice," I said with manufactured enthusiasm, grateful to have something 
to talk about to get my mind off what I'd just seen. 

"I thought we could throw some steaks on the stove., have some champagne, 
and talk. How's that sound to you?" 

"Oh, terrific," I answered, and I wasn't kidding, anxious for any diversion. 

It turned out that Margot was in as good a mood as she seemed to be. Also, 
she really seemed to be glad to see me, telling me that she had broken a 
date tonight so we could spend the evening together. 

Despite my effort to suppress it, my shock over the photographs lingered, 
and when I asked her what she'd been up to, it took on an added dimension 
from the innocent question it might ordinarily have been. 

"Well, I'll tell you," she said. "You know that bus driver I was telling you 
about a few weeks ago? Although it didn't work out between us, I'll always 
be indebted to him. He introduced rue to a group of people who are just 
terrific. They're out of sight. I've never had so many friends, both men and 
women. We get together and have just really fabulous times." 

Oh, God, I thought, is she going to tell me about it! "What kind of things 
do you do?" I ventured, hoping that I didn't betray my knowledge of her new 
social life. 

"I guess you could say we communicate," she said, and then began to chuckle. 
"That's what we do-we communicate. Boy, how we communicate!" 

I was at a loss as to where to take the conversation from there. The only 
safe thing I could think of to say was, "Oh, that's nice. 

Fortunately, Margot had apparently already had a few drinks to loosen up, or 
the champagne was going to her head, because she kept on talking. 
"Communication, that's what the world needs more of today. I'm convinced of 
it. If we could communicate more with each other-get to know each other 
better-everyone would be a lot better off." 

The conversation continued from there for a couple of hours. Eventually, I 
got more used to her, and the memory of the photographs I had found just 
shortly before seemed to fade in my mind before her friendliness and with 
additional glasses of champagne. She really seemed to care about me, and 
even if a lot of her advice was kind of crass, her intent appeared genuine. 
I found myself thinking, Maybe things will work out this time, something 
which I would have never thought possible before. 

But when the conversation ended after we had eaten dinner and finished the 
bottle of champagne, and part of a bottle of Scotch Margot had around, and 
we went to bed, my old doubts came back to haunt me and kept me from 
sleeping. Maybe it was because Margot had insisted that I sleep in her bed 
while she slept on the couch in the living room. I had tried to take the 
couch, but she had insisted. 

The image of that stack of pictures nestled on top of the panties in her 
dresser haunted me. I vowed to myself that I wouldn't look at them again, 
but the more I tried to forget them, the more vivid my awareness of tern 
became. 

Finally I realized that I was never going to get to sleep unless I looked at 
them one more time. I got out of bed quietly and tiptoed over to the dresser 
and got them out, and then tiptoed back to bed. I turned on the lamp by the 
bed and began to look through them again. 

Again I was struck by the clarity of the photography. The folds and moisture 
of the cunts, especially Margot's, were stunningly lifelike, and I could 
almost pick up the pungent scent of the spurting jism of the ejaculating 
men. As I sat looking at them again, I began to notice even more of the 
sharp-focused details. In most of the pictures, Margot's legs were spread 
wide open, often thrown straight up in the air, exposing the full details of 
her hairy, dripping crotch, and her asshole was in clear view. One thing 
that impressed me was how tight and pink it looked. 

As I looked at the stack of photographs, the revulsion I had originally felt 
slowly changed into a tingling sensation that started between my legs and 
spread throughout my naked body. Before I knew what had happened I realized 
that the pictures of my mother in every lewd position imaginable had turned 
me on. Somehow the thought of that pink rosebud of a perfect asshole on a 
woman in her thirties turned me on the most, and without thinking about it 
my hand dropped between my quivering thighs and I inserted my finger up my 
own asshole. It was tight, so I withdrew my finger and put it into my mouth, 
sucking on it to provide some moisture for lubrication. As I inserted my 
finger once again up my ass, it slid quickly and smoothly all the way in. I 
quickly discovered that it felt deliciously good, and even better when I 
slid my finger in and out, up to the knuckle and then back out again to the 
fingernail, moving it in a circular fashion all the while. 

I began to use my other hand to rub my moistening cunt as I continued 
probing my asshole, and soon became caught up in physical ecstasy, 
completely forgetting where I was, the photographs strewn on the sheets 
beside me. I was so involved with what I was doing, I guess, that I didn't 
hear the bedroom door open. 

Margot's words shattered me back to reality. "I thought something might be 
wrong, the light's on. 

 . . Oooh, I see nothing's wrong at all. I see you've been looking at my 
pictures." 

I quickly withdrew my hands from between my legs and pulled the sheets up in 
front of me. "Uh, no . . . " I stammered, "uh, well, uh, yes, I. . .but it 
was an accident " 

"Sure, sure," she said brassily. "Don't worry, I'm not mad at you. 
Especially since you seem to like them, if you, heh-heh, know what I mean." 

"No, no . . . " I stuttered. 

"You don't have to hide anything from me, she said as she advanced toward 
me. "I saw what you were up to, with your fingers up your little ass. How 
sweet." 

What could I say. There was no explanation I could rationally offer to save 
face. I was silent as she came to the bed and sat down on it beside me. 

"I don't be shy," she said. "There's no crime in liking it up the ass. If 
you looked at those pictures, you know that your mother certainly does. Like 
mother, like daughter, they say." 

Before I could think of an appropriate response, she flung the sheets off of 
me and embraced my naked body. She was wearing only the sheerest of nighties 
and I could feel her heart pumping beneath her warm tits as they rubbed 
insistently against mine. She was strong and I felt trapped in her grasp as 
she snaked a hand between my thighs and began massaging my crotch, a finger 
searching for my asshole and soon finding it, plunging in and then out, in 
and out. The sensation was intense, and so pleasurable that my fright soon 
disappeared. My inhibitions vanished as I kissed my own mother full on the 
lips, our tongues meeting, while my hand crawled up under her short nightie 
and clutched the moist, furry muff of her cunt. 

"No, no," she whispered, "stick it up my ass, too." I immediately did so, 
first tracing my fingertip over the smooth puckering surrounding her 
asshole. 

"Ooooh," she moaned as my finger pumped slowly in and out of her asshole, 
while she did the same to me. "Do you enjoy taking an enema?" she asked. 
Before the question could even register and I could answer, she got up and 
took me by the hand and led me toward the bathroom. Margot took the enema 
bag down from behind the door, ran some water in the sink, and rubbed a bar 
of soap in it. When the bag was full of soapy water, Margot asked me if I 
wanted to go first. I was still dumbfounded, but managed to wordlessly 
indicate that she should go first. Margot pulled the plug from the bathtub 
and adjusted the water to the right temperature. She lay down in the tub and 
instructed me to hook the bag on the wall and give her the nozzle. 

As Margot inserted the nozzle into her asshole, she told me to kneel next to 
the tub and play with her cunt. I complied, and watched her cuntlips vibrate 
under my touch while the water rushed into her ass. 

Suddenly Margot told me to remove my hand from her cunt for a moment, and as 
I did, I watched the water and shit gush from her asshole and wash down the 
drain. When the bag was empty, and only a clear stream of water was leaking 
from her ass, Margot told me to refill the bag, and she again shoved the 
nozzle up her ass, along with a foot or so of the hose. She told me to bend 
down into the tub and put my mouth on her cunt. 

Without thinking about the bizarre nature of the scene, I did as she asked, 
and as my mouth covered Margot's cunt and began licking her wildly, I 
couldn't help but place a free hand on my own throbbing pussy, and I began 
finger-fucking myself, feeling as though I were about to discharge a quart 
of cunt juice. 

It only took Margot about thirty seconds before her cunt started literally 
foaming in my mouth. As her body shook in the final throes of orgasm, water 
shot from her asshole and sprayed against the tub walls, splashing in a 
sparkling cascade. 

Margot heaved a satisfied moan, and told me it was my turn now. It was too 
late to turn back now. I lay back in the tub, and she brought the nozzle 
between my parted thighs and plunged it into my waiting asshole. 

Margot shoved the hose up my pliant ass, and as it passed a certain point, I 
could feel my clit start to stiffen, and then Margot's hungry mouth was aver 
it, sharply licking it with her lance of a tongue. 

Suddenly my ass was spurting water, and I felt as tough my cunt was on fire 
as Margot kept fanning the flames with her hot tongue. Then I got the most 
incredible feeling, one I'd never felt before and still can't adequately 
describe. My hips jerked uncontrollably and the nozzle spurted from my ass 
with a shimmering burst of water. At the same time, Margot was eating me so 
hard that I had the sensation that ha head was halfway up my cunt and her 
tongue was licking the inside of my womb as we grappled together in the 
slick tub. 

When it was finally over, we both got out of the tub and washed each other 
off. I still hadn't said anything, and was now at the paint of physical 
exhaustion.. Margot seemed to sense this as she led me back to the bed and 
helped me into it. Then she tucked me in as though I were a little girl 
again, and kissed me good night. 

 Chapter Eight 

The next morning, when I awoke around ten, the impact of what had happened 
the night before hit me the second I opened my eyes. The sun shone brightly 
through one of the windows, bathing the room in its cheerful brightness as 
though nothing as sinister as what had happened just a few hours before 
could have taken place in such an environment. 

As much as I was shocked by what we had done, I was at least equally as 
concerned about how I was going to handle Margot from here on in. What 
should I say to her? Should I say nothing about it, and go on just as if it 
hadn't happened? Or should I let her know that it was never going to happen 
again? Or the third alternative: Should I let Margot know that I was willing 
to engage in more of the same if she was? 

The fact that I even considered the third possibility shook me. Could I have 
possibly enjoyed engaging in the most vile of sex acts with my own mother? A 
brutally honest voice in the back of my mind insistently reminded me that, 
indeed, I had. I couldn't help but recall the excruciating sensation of the 
hot soapy water filling my ass to the point of bursting, and then the 
delicious release of a torrent exploding out of my ass while Margot expertly 
ate my cunt. No amount of moralizing was ever going to erase the intense 
pleasure of the previous night from my consciousness. 

Finally I got out of bed and dressed, still not being sure what I was going 
to do, how I was going to handle the confrontation with Margot. However, 
when I emerged from the bedroom I saw that my problem had been temporarily 
solved because Margot had obviously left the apartment. I soon saw a note 
propped up on the kitchen table against the salt and pepper shaken. In 
Margot's handwriting, it read, "You were asleep after last night's strenuous 
exercise, ha ha, so I didn't wake you. Wish I could have slept in, too, but 
I'm a working girl. See you tonight. Margot." 

So Margot wasn't going to be shy about what had happened. The mere thought 
of her lewd behavior caused a prickly sensation in my cunt, a sort of erotic 
apprehension that was not at all unpleasant. I found myself dropping my hand 
to my pussy and running over it absent-mindedly as I wandered over to the 
refrigerator, thinking about getting something to eat. The image of food, 
however, failed to materialize in my mind as it usually would in the 
morning. Instead, I found myself with pictures of drooling, open cunts 
racing through my mind, interspersed with a perfectly pink asshole, like 
Margot's, spewing water. 

As the moisture oozed from my cunt, I placed my hand under my skirt and 
found the crotch of my panties drenched. There was only one thing to do or 
I'd be out of it all day like this, I thought. I slid my trembling hand down 
under the elastic band of my panties and began to finger my cunt, rubbing my 
erect clitoris vigorously. An orgasm came after only a few seconds I was so 
worked up, and as the spasms moved up and down my body and then gradually 
faded, I felt a certain amount of clearness coming into my head at last. 

Now I was better able to concentrate on the more immediate business at hand. 
The first item on my agenda was to go out and look for a job. I made myself 
a quick breakfast, and settled down with a cup of coffee at the kitchen 
table and began to study the classified ads in the morning paper which 
Margot had left for me. 

The job market was tight and the ads weren't promising. I was only too aware 
that I didn't have an abundance of marketable skills, and was apprehensive 
about having to use my looks to wrangle my way into a position somewhere. 

It was hot in the city that day, and I must have walked my feet off making 
the rounds to the various banks, insurance companies, offices, and so forth, 
that had advertised for help. Unfortunately, for me, the help they wanted 
was always for somebody with experience at operating this machine, or being 
familiar with that kind bookkeeping system, or any one of a number of 
different skills I didn't have. I would have been content to go back to work 
in a warehouse, but none were advertising. By the time it was four o'clock, 
I could see I was never going to get any place the way I was going, and that 
I would have to try for something a little less orthodox if I was going to 
start earning my own way again. 

There was a series of ads near the end of the help-wanted section all 
reading pretty much the same, something like, "Exotic Dancers Wanted. Over 
Eighteen. No Experience Necessary." I was eighteen, and had identification 
that said I was much older. I had no illusions about what kind of dancing 
was wanted, but I was desperately in need of money. 

I selected one of the ads that seemed to be for a place within walking 
distance. After taking a left turn, walking three blocks, and turning right, 
I saw the place in the middle of the block. The building had a garish facade 
done up in red and silver with a neon sign that was flashing even in the 
middle of the day, advertising the name of the place as Count Porno's 
Lounge. My better judgment warned me against going inside, but the thought 
of my financial situation propelled me toward the door. 

Holding my breath, I pushed open the door and went inside, hearing it 
swinging behind me, sealing me inside a smoky roam that was so dark I had 
trouble making out any detail. When I did I saw that it looked like a 
standard barroom, with a gleaming jukebox, pinball machines, cigarette 
machine, a bar and booths. The only thing unusual was that there was a 
raised platform in the middle of the room. I quickly figured out that that 
was where the dancers performed. There was nothing going on now since, 
apparently, it was the slow time of the day. Just one man sat at the bar. 

I walked over to the barmaid, who was dressed in the briefest of bikinis. 
"I'm looking for, uh, Count Porno." I felt like a fool actually saying such 
a ridiculous name. 

"Hi ya, sweetie," the man at the bar said, looking up at me, his intent gaze 
seeming to undress me. "I'm the man you're looking for." 

It turned out that Count Porno was a short, fat, bald guy who quickly 
informed me that his real name was Harry. I was prepared for anything just 
by virtue of the fact that I was actually inside a place such as this, but 
it was still a shock when the man said, "Okay, doll, take off your clothes 
and let's see what you've got." I wasn't going to do it, but when he added, 
"Look, doll, if I like your body you'll get one twenty-five a week," I 
reconsidered. 

"All right," I whispered, "I'll do it." I began slowly peeling off my outer 
garments. As each thing came off and a new part of my body was exposed, he 
made some sort of vulgar comment. When I reluctantly stepped out of my 
parties he said, "Oh, and you're a real blonde! This is Count Porno's lucky 
day!" 

I turned red all over in both embarrassment and anger, and grabbing at my 
clothes to hide my body from him, I was just ready to tell him what he could 
do with his one twenty-five a week when he said, "Say, listen, for that I'll 
give you one fifty a week, and I don't care if you can dance a step. We 
don't get many real blondes in here." 

I was defeated by my own need, and perhaps greed, and muttered, "Okay." 

As I started to put my clothes back on, I got up enough nerve to ask, "When 
would you like me to start work?" 

"Tonight," he said. 

"Okay," I replied, "tonight." 

"Okay, doll, be here at eight o'clock, and you work until two." 

I went out onto the street, and walked down to a phone booth. I put in a 
dime and dialed Margot's number. She answered after a couple of rings. I 
instantly made the decision that I would just give her the bare information 
that I wouldn't be home until late because I had found a job, not mentioning 
either what kind of job it was, or what had happened between us the night 
before. 

"Margot," I said. "Listen, I've managed to get a job, but I have to start 
tonight and won't be home until late." 

"Oh, how lucky, a job right off the bat," she said. "What is it? Something 
exotic, I'll bet." 

I gulped at her choice of words, and then said, "No, it's just an ordinary 
job. I have to am now, I'll see you later." "But-" she started to say. 

"Goodbye, Margot, see you later," I interrupted, and hung up the phone, 
breathing a sigh of relief. 

I had a few hours to kill before I was supposed to go back to Count Porno's, 
so I found a restaurant, ate a light dinner, then spent the next two hours 
strolling up and down the streets, window shopping and thinking about my new 
job. 

At seven-thirty I found myself only a couple of blacks from Count Porno's. 
As I came upon the garish red and silver building with its winking sign, I 
stopped to get my breath. As I entered, the atmosphere was quite different 
than it had been before. The place was now full of noisy men, the buzz of 
their comments filling the smoky room with a reverberating din that was 
topped off by a screeching jukebox blasting out rock music. The girl who had 
been behind the bar during the afternoon was shuffling around on the stage 
with a bored expression on her face, popping her gum, but this time without 
her bikini. Despite her obvious lack of enthusiasm and relatively small 
tits, the crowd seemed to like her. Although I wasn't looking forward to 
what I was going to be doing, I couldn't help but think to myself that if 
they liked her, they'd love me. 

Then I heard a gravelly voice interrupting my thoughts. It was Harry. "Say, 
listen," he said, "I'm glad you're here early." 

I steeled myself and asked the inevitable question. "What do you want me to 
do?" 

"Oh, that's easy," he said. "Just take it off." 

"On stage?" 

"Do you mean strip on stage?" he said. "Naw, you don't have to do that. This 
ain't no strip joint. This here's a bottomless dancing joint. There's a 
difference. In the one you start off with all your clothes on and tease the 
customers by taking them off. Here you start off with them all off and give 
the customers a good look at what you got. You can start off with a pair of 
panties on, though. What kind you got on?" 

"Well . . . well," I stuttered, "they're those bikini kind, and they're blue 
with little rose decorations on them." 

"Are they clean?" 

I was rendered speechless. 

"Aw, I'll bet I offended you," he said mockingly. "Well, that's show biz. 
Anyway, listen. I think it would be a good idea to wear panties when you 
first come out, sort of tantalize them for a couple of minutes while they 
wonder if that blonde hair is natural, heh-heh. But, here, I want you to 
wear these." He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a pair of orange 
panties with black lace on them and tossed them over to me. When I looked at 
them, I gasped. They were crotchless like the ones I'd found at Margot's. 

"I don't think I want to wear these," I summoned up enough courage to say. 

"Why not, doll?" he said. "They're gonna see your snatch before you know it 
anyway. Wearing these'll just make it a little classier. How you do it p is 
go out there in these things and sort of keep your legs pressed together at 
first. We'll hold back the music for a few seconds so they can get a good 
look at you. Then when the music starts, slowly spread your legs apart so 
they can see what you've got between 'em. Then, while you're dancing, take 
'em off." 

I stood silently for a moment, contemplating the crotchless panties, and 
then finally had to give in to reality and agree, "I guess you're right, I 
guess it doesn't make any difference." 

"That's the way I like to hear you talk," he said triumphantly. "Now, 
listen, here's the schedule. You dance for three records and then you get 
off and another girl takes your place. There's enough girls so that you only 
have to dance about once an hour. When you're dancing, do your own 
thing-just so long as they get plenty of good looks at your pussy, because 
that's what they're paying for. The dressing room is back there." He pointed 
toward a white door which had the word "Ladies" stenciled on it. 

"But that's the restroom," I protested. "Do I have to change in there? What 
if someone comes in?" 

He laughed. "Come on, use your noodle, kiddo. How much business do you think 
the ladies' restroom gets in a jackoff joint like this?" 

I had to agree with his logic, and nodded my head that I understood. 

"Now we're gonna have you go on right after Bertha up there is through," he 
went on. "The only thing we gotta do now is think up a name for you. What's 
your name?" 

"Honeysuckle," I said. 

"Terrific!" he exclaimed. "A name we don't have to change! After these guys 
see that blonde cunt of yours, that's one pot of honey they're all gonna 
wanna suck. Terrific!" 

I winced at his reference to my name, the blasphemy to Katrina's memory 
creating a knot in the pit of my stomach. But this was no time to get 
squeamish. I had already suffered enough humiliation to back out at this 
point without getting the money. Before I left to change, I asked, "When do 
I get paid?" 

"Oh, yeah, right, a hundred twenty-five on Wednesday." 

"A hundred and fifty," I said evenly, my harshness surprising me. 

"Right, right," he laughed. "Twenty-five bucks extra for the blonde snatch. 
But, listen, don't tell the other girls or they'll all be after my ass for 
more bread." 

The ladies' restroom was a dingy cubbyhole with a single forty-watt bulb 
providing the only light. There was a toilet, a grimy sink, and a shelf for 
stacking the clothes the dancers didn't wear. I quickly slipped out of mine, 
folded them, and put them on the shelf. I held the orange crotchless panties 
in front of me, and before I could think any more negative thoughts and talk 
myself out of going through with the whole thing, I held my breath, closed 
my eyes, and stepped into them. 

After I had them on I couldn't resist staring down at them to see how they 
looked. As Harry had said, when my legs were together they looked like an 
ordinary pair of panties, but when I parted my thighs the opening between my 
legs spread apart, revealing the hair and ups of my cunt, framed with black 
lace. The vulgarity of it repelled me on the one hand, but on the other hand 
I had to acknowledge that there was something definitely erotic about the 
wispy hair and slippery lips of my cunt emerging through the lacy slit. 

Before I could think any more, I heard an amplified voice booming from 
outside the door: "And now, gentlemen, a real treat. A new superstar at our 
club! Count Porno proudly presents the blonde bombshell, the fabulous 
Honeysuckle!" Tightening my fists and sucking in my breath, I emerged 
through the restroom door and marched toward the stage. 

Wolf-whistles and crude remarks greeted me as I climbed up on the stage, 
which turned out to be covered with linoleum and sprinkled with sawdust. I 
stood as Harry had suggested with my legs pressed tightly together while the 
audience ogled me. 

Suddenly the music started. It was loud rock from the jukebox, obviously 
selected for its heavy beat. The only way you could move to it and keep in 
time was to bump and grind. I began twitching my hips and slowly parted my 
thighs as Harry had said I should do. As I did so, I couldn't help but look 
down and notice the sight of my cunt emerging for all these leering men to 
gawk at. As Harry had predicted, the audience went wild when they saw my 
blonde cunt hair. 

"Oh, wow!" I heard a voice from the back of the room exclaim. "She digs 
herself, she's looking at her own cunt! Right on, baby!" 

I quickly averted my eyes from my crotch and started to concentrate on the 
business at hand. I listened to the rock music. Its beat was throbbing 
sensuously, and I made my body move with the music. But seductive as the 
beat and lyrics of the music were, it was still an effort to move with it. I 
kept my head up high with my eyes focused on one of those beer signs hanging 
over the jukebox. I tried not to look at the people seated and standing 
below me, even though in my mind I could see all of them: dozens of men 
under an umbrella of smoke, drinking their beer and smacking their lips, 
sweating in the small, crowded room-and looking straight up between my legs 
at my cunt. 

And most of all I didn't want to look down again because I didn't want to be 
reminded by the sight of the parted lips of my own pussy what I was 
doing-which amounted to selling my body for money. 

As the music throbbed on, I finally removed the panties and danced around 
completely nude. The audience seemed to love everything I did. Because I was 
elevated above them on the stage, there was no chance they could grab me, 
but I still felt like I was being pawed roughly by their stares, violated by 
their eyes and lewd comments. 

As I continued bumping and grinding, I soon lost all track of time, and even 
of the differentiation between the records playing on the jukebox. It seemed 
like I had been up there dancing to one long, endless song forever when 
Harry jumped on the stage, grabbed the microphone, and said, "That's it! 
Wasn't she great? Let's give a big hand to the fabulous Honeysuckle!" 

The next thing I knew I was back in the restroom putting my clothes back on 
and listening to the continuing applause, when there was a knock on the 
door. "I'm not dressed!" I shouted. 

"So what?" said Harry as he burst into the room. "I can't see any more than 
I just did." I started to tell him something, like where he could go, but he 
went on talking. "Listen, sweetie, you were great, just great. No 
complaints. They loved you, just loved you. You're a star! How does that 
make you feel?" 

"Pretty crummy," I blurted out. 

But as I sat around at a back booth drinking coffee while the other girls 
danced, I had to admit that as lousy a job as this was, it still was 
gratifying that people were turned on by me. That seemed to be the one 
saving grace of this job, however, and as I continued to watch the other 
dancers I realized that the one positive aspect of Working at Count Porno's 
would probably be short-lived in its impact. The work was so demeaning, and 
they had to go to such lengths to win approval. The whole thing was based on 
how far the dancer would go-the less attractive the dancer was, the farther 
she had to go to please the audience. 

One particularly willowly and beautiful brunette only had to tentatively 
dance around the stage to win the approving shouts of the crowd. But another 
girl, with small tits and a plain face, was subjected to their jeers until 
she finally dropped to the floor of the stage, spreading her lep and holding 
them above her head so the open hairy gash of her cunt seemed to breathe in 
the crowd's face. When they screamed, "More, more!" she wriggled on her back 
with her elbows over to the side of the stage and threw her hand down into 
the audience. Apparently it was a regular occurrence because someone in a 
ringside seat immediately handed her a lighted cigarette. She took it and 
placed it between the open slick lips of her cunt while she sucked in her 
breath. Then, pulling the cigarette out of her cunt with one hand, she used 
her other hand to push down on her stomach, causing a cloud of smoke to be 
exhaled from her cunt. The crowd loved it, but it almost made me sick. I was 
glad I was attractive enough that I didn't have to resort to anything like 
that. 

The evening progressed, and I wound up dancing five or six more times. Each 
time it got easier in one respect, but harder in another. My feeling of 
queasiness about being naked on stage in front of a bunch of half-drunk men 
subsided, but, at the same time, a sense of irritation started to rise in 
me. Halfway through the evening the job had ceased to be so frightening, but 
it was getting to be a chore. As I danced, I started trying to make out some 
of the people in the audience, but no matter how hard I tried they remained 
a faceless, babbling mass in a haze of smoke and stale beer stench. 

After my final turn of the evening, I walked down off the stage and toward 
the restroom, anxious to get into my clothes and out of the place, not 
because I was embarrassed by my nudity any more, but because I was bone 
tired and wanted to go home and get some rest. When I was almost at the 
restroom door, I suddenly became aware that someone was following me. Before 
I could say anything, he came up to me and said, "Could I speak to you, 
miss?" 

He was about forty, as well as I could make out through the gloom, wore 
glasses, and was about five-three and weighed probably less than a hundred 
and twenty pounds. But he sort of appealed to me in that at least he wasn't 
some big gorilla, or one of the motorcycle freaks I'd seen sitting around 
the stage with their fellow gang members. 

"Can I buy you a beer?" he asked timidly. 

"Well," I said, "that's nice of you, but I'm off now and I have to get 
home." Then I said, "Besides, the management lets me drink four gallons a 
night before I have to pay for any, and I still have two or three glasses to 
go before I reach my limit." 

He laughed, which seemed kind of nice in that place after all the slurping 
and panting I'd heard. Then there was a pause, and then he moved over to his 
right a little, into the shadows so I didn't have as good a view of him. 
Then he said he had a proposition for me. 

"Well, what is it?" I asked, straining my eyes to focus on him in the 
shadows. Forgetting that I was naked, I absent-mindedly bent my knee and 
lifted a foot so I could brush the gritty sawdust from the bottom of it. I 
suddenly became aware that I had no clothes on when I heard my cunt squish 
as I maneuvered my leg, and I dropped it to the floor and defensively 
crossed my arms in front of me. 

"How would you like a hundred dollars?" he asked. All of a sudden I was 
liking him less. 

"How would you like two hundred dollars?" he asked when I didn't answer. 
"Three hundred?" I 

"Hey, hey," he yelled after me, "you ain't mad are you? You gonna be back 
tomorrow night?" 

That was one question I didn't want to answer, and I just kept walking into 
the cool morning air, not bothering to look back. 

 Chapter Nine 

A cab finally got me back to Margot's about three a.m. I was exhausted and 
went to sleep on the couch without even taking off all my clothes. When I 
awoke in the morning I decided that I would have a cup of coffee and 
something to eat before I even contemplated Count Porno's Lounge and what I 
would do about my job them. Walking into the kitchen, I noticed that Margot 
had left another note. I picked it up and read, "Your boyfriend called last 
night, and wanted to come over to see you. I told him you were working. He 
got out of the hospital early and wanted to surprise you. He'll call you 
again this morning. Margot." 

I couldn't believe it. Tom out of the hospital. He must have known he was 
getting out the last time we talked but kept it a secret to surprise me. I 
wasn't so sure whether I was pleased or irritated. I was thrilled that we 
could be together, since, Lord knew, I needed all the emotional support I 
could get. But I also wished I had had time to get my personal life in order 
before we were reunited. The shambles things were in hardly seemed the 
appropriate background for a successful relationship. 

I was puttering around the kitchen deep in thought when my consciousness was 
pierced by the doorbell ringing. At first I thought it was the telephone and 
jumped about a foot in the air from excitement because I thought it was Tom 
making his promised call. When I realized it was the doorbell, I walked over 
to the door and opened it, leaving the chain lock still attached so that I 
had about three inches of space to peer out through. I couldn't see anyone, 
but all of a sudden I heard a rumbling voice growling, "All right, lady, 
open up, this is the police;" and my heart leapt into my mouth. 

Half expecting to have the door kicked down if I didn't get it open 
immediately, I hurriedly detached the chain and opened it widely. To my 
surprise, instead of a squad of policemen, there stood Tom with a smirk on 
his face. 

"Oh, God, Tom," I gasped, "you scared me! I really thought you were the 
police!" 

He laughed and said, "Well, what have you been up to?" 

We looked at each other silently. I was so glad to see him, but I was still 
getting over the shock he had given me. Finally, he said, "Aren't you going 
to invite me in?" 

"Oh, sure, sure," I said. "It's just that you took my breath away." 

The minute we were inside and the door was closed behind us, Tom grabbed me 
and kissed me, and although I appreciated it, I lay limply in his arms. When 
he had finished he looked at me and said, "What's wrong, Honeysuckle? Is 
that all the greeting I get?" 

"I'm sorry, Tom," I said. "I guess it's just that I'm beat after my first 
night working. Listen, never mind about me, I want to hear all about how you 
got out of the hospital so soon." 

"I always knew I was going to get out right around the time you did, but I 
wanted to keep it a secret so you'd be surprised when I appeared out of 
nowhere. But after the greeting you gave me, I'm not so sure it was the best 
idea." 

I nodded my head, and said, "That's what I suspected, you rascal. Well, 
anyway, Tom, I'm glad you're here." 

"Then why didn't you show it?" he asked, his feelings obviously hurt. 

"Oh, you men!" I said in a good-natured scold. "You think if a girl doesn't 
fall head over heels every time you walk into a room they don't like you any 
more. Believe me, Tom, it doesn't have anything to do with you, I just have 
a lot on my mind. You know, having to stay here with my mother, being broke, 
and this job I've got." 

"I understand," he said thoughtfully. "What kind of job did you get, 
anyway?" 

I hesitated for a moment and then said, "Well, frankly, Tom, I'd rather not 
talk about it now, if you don't mind." 

"But I do mind," he said forcefully. "I care about you, Honeysuckle. I feel 
like your troubles are my troubles." 

His concern for me and his willingness to share my problems touched me 
deeply. "All right, Tom," I said at last, "maybe it's better if I do tell 
you." 

"Good," he said, taking my hand and leading me over to the couch. "Let's sit 
down and you tell me all about it." 

"Well, Tom, it's it's," I said, stumbling over my words, "it's hard to tell 
you this, but I got a job-it was the only job I could get-as a dancer in a 
nightclub downtown." 

"What's the matter with that?" he asked. 

"Actually, it's a sleazy bar called Count Porno's Lounge, and I dance in the 
nude." There, I'd managed to get it out! 

He turned pale, and was obviously shaken by what I had told him. He tried to 
act nonchalant about it, but didn't succeed. Finally, he gave up trying to 
put on an act and blurted out, "That's awful, Honeysuckle! How did it 
happen?" 

"Like I said, I couldn't find any other job," I explained, some of my 
anxiety gone now that I was well into the story. "They liked my looks and I 
was hired on the spot for a hundred and fifty a week." 

"What do you do?" he asked as if he really didn't want to hear the answer. 

"I told you, I dance around in the nude." 

"In front of a bunch of men?" he asked. 

"Of course," I said, "did you think it was in front of a bunch of nuns?" 

He was silent for a moment, looking pensive. Finally, he said, "Do you like 
it?" 

"Well, it's . . . it's," I stammered, groping for the right thing to say. 
And then, suddenly, I felt as though I couldn't hold anything back any more, 
and that everything would be better if I just let what I had churning inside 
of me out. "Oh, God, why beat around the bush," I sobbed, "it's terrible!" 

My body quaked now with racking sobs as Tom put his arms around me and 
comforted me. "Don't worry, Honeysuckle," he said gently, "you won't ever 
have to go back there." 

"But don't you see," I wailed, "where do I have any choice? I need the money 
desperately, and it's the only kind of job I can get." 

"There's another way," he said softly. 

"What?" I demanded to know through my tears. "I've racked my brain looking 
for some other way, and can't come up with a thing." 

"We'll get married," he said firmly. 

It took a moment for his remark to sink in, and when it did I couldn't 
believe it. "Tom, please," I said, "please don't joke with me at a time like 
this." 

"I'm not joking, darling," he said, smiling. "I've never been so serious in 
my life. If you say you'll marry me, you won't ever have to do anything but 
stay home and take care of our house and raise our children." 

Raise our children, I thought. Never had any phrase been so sweet to my 
ears. But I had to be sure, and blurted out, "How can you ask me to marry 
you when we've only known each other such a short time?" 

"When you really love someone, you know right away," he said, "so why waste 
a lot of time waiting around." 

"Are you sure?" I asked. 

"As sure as I'll ever be about anything. And how about you, Honeysuckle, do 
you love me? Are you sure?" 

All of a sudden, as I put my troubled life behind me, there seemed to be 
only one correct answer. "Yes, darling, I'm sure." 

Tom and I couldn't even stand to wait for the three days the state required 
after a marriage license was taken out before the ceremony could take place. 
Instead, we talked it over on Margot's living room couch and decided we 
would drive across the state line where there was no waiting period, the 
same as Jeff and I had done. At first I was reluctant to agree to this, the 
memory of my brief marriage to Jeff stirring up so many unpleasant memories. 
I explained my reluctance to Tom, saying, "It seems like a bad omen to me, 
like a bad way to get started. It's almost as though we were putting some 
sort of curse on ourselves." 

"That's silly," he retorted. "You know you don't believe in things like 
that. After all, you and Jeff were just silly kids. You and I know what 
we're doing." 

Finally he convinced me that going across the state line was not going to 
make any difference as long as we really loved each other, and we made 
preparations to leave. I left a note for Margot, telling her that Tom and I 
were going to be married, and that I would be moving into his apartment, and 
thanked her for her hospitality. 

At that moment I made the decision that in addition to getting out of her 
apartment, I was going to get out of her life. My marriage to Tom was to be 
the beginning of a new phase of my life and II wanted to leave as much of 
the past behind as possible. I silently vowed to myself that I wouldn't be 
seeing her again. 

Tom and I dashed out the door when I had finished with the note, got into 
his car, and sped toward the state line. After the ceremony, our craving for 
each other wouldn't permit us to drive all the way back to Tom's apartment 
in the city before we made love. Tom pulled into an isolated motel and 
rented us a room, writing with a flourish on the register: "Mr. and Mrs. Tom 
Rafferty." 

"Do you think they believed us?" I giggled as we walked toward our room, 
ecstatically happy. 

Inside the room we set a world's record for getting our clothes off, and 
then dove for the bed and each other's panting, naked bodies. 

Tom pushed me back on the bed, his leg forcing its way into my already 
dripping cunt. I shoved back against his force while he nibbled on my tits. 
There wasn't much foreplay because we were both so hot and anxious to fuck. 
He crashed his body on top of me and was instantly between my thighs, 
pumping his hard cock at my swollen cuntlips. I grabbed his prick and 
inserted it with a strong jerk into my cunt. He moaned and thrust at me and 
I felt the rock-hard flesh entering me deeply. I moaned in pleasure and he 
instantly rubbed the most sensitive spot inside the walls of my cunt with 
the probing head of his surging cock. 

"Oh, that's good," I said huskily, and kissed his face wetly. 

He responded by sticking his tongue into my mouth, and each time he pulled 
his cock out, he would thrust his tongue deep into my mouth. I found this to 
be delightful, and wasn't surprised when I had a quick orgasm that Left me 
breathless but hungry for more. 

As Tom pumped down savagely between my loins, I started fucking him back as 
hard as I could, matching his every downward thrust with an upward one, the 
moisture lubricating our genitals causing a loud smack at the point of 
impact. 

"How does my cock feel inside you?" he asked as he removed his tongue from 
my mouth and began nibbling at my ear, breathing into it as we continued to 
fuck away at each other. "Is it hard enough for you? Am I hitting you where 
you need to be hit?" 

This sort of consideration really surprised me, and made me love him all the 
more. "It's just right," I gasped. "Just keep fucking me, Tom. God, your 
cock is hard tonight!" 

"And your tight pussy is making it harder," he breathed in my ear. 

"Fuck me, darling," I moaned, and pushed up at him several times with all my 
might as he continued to plunge down on me. 

Suddenly I could feel his muscles tense up and I knew he was ready to come. 
My own body was in such harmony with his that when I sensed he was on the 
verge of a climax my own panic button started to sound, also. I wanted to 
cap it off with something special, so just as I sensed he was getting ready 
to come, I whispered urgently, "Please, please, do it in my mouth this 
time!" 

Tom quickly withdrew from my cunt and slid up on my sweating body, and with 
the cheeks of his ass spread across my tits, shoved his palpitating cock 
between my quivering lips and into my hungry mouth. I moved my head 
furiously back and forth, trying to sustain the friction with my mouth that 
my cunt had started. 

And then his cock seemed to double in size, and the hand I had on his balls 
could feel them violently contract as he started to come. I thought he was 
never going to stop squirting the thick, warm jism into my mouth. He did 
hesitate twice, but immediately resumed with an even greater flow, as if he 
had a faucet between his legs he could turn off and on at will, filling my 
mouth beyond capacity, sticky globs of cum oozing out of the corners and 
dribbling down my face. I gleefully swallowed every drop, and when we were 
finished and lay exhausted side by side, I made no attempt to wipe his jism 
from my face. 

The honeymoon, as it turned out, however, was soon over. It wasn't that we 
didn't love each other all of a sudden, because we were still crazy about 
each other, but little differences began to pop up. Since this was my third 
marriage and I was scared of failing again, I felt it was my duty to 
compromise when we had disagreements, and before long I found myself doing a 
lot of it. Still, I kept telling myself, I loved Tom, and even disagreeing 
with him was better than living with Margot, or being a bottomless dancer. 
Tom had mentioned a house and babies when he a had proposed. After we had 
been married a couple of weeks I told him that I was going to stop taking 
birth control pills so we could get a start on the family we had talked 
about. He became very nervous and wanted to know why I was in such a hurry. 
When I asked him if he was going back on his word, he assured me that he 
wasn't, that he still wanted children, and to move from our apartment into a 
house of our own more than he ever did-but not immediately. He explained it 
by saying, "I don't want to share you with anyone, not even an unborn baby, 
for the first year. Besides, we're young yet. There'll be plenty of time 
later for babies and mortgages." 

Because I loved him, I gave in to him. One thing Tom had a lot of was charm, 
and it quickly became apparent that he could talk me into anything. His 
charm also attracted other women, though; and every day when he left for 
work I found myself trying to conquer a nagging sense of jealousy. He did 
very little to help me conquer it. Although he obviously loved me, that 
didn't mean he'd taken an oath to ignore all other women. Tom liked girls, 
and at the parties we went to he would often flirt with them. I kept telling 
myself it meant nothing, that he'd chosen me, and that kept me from getting 
too upset. 

Part of my problem was that I didn't have a whole lot to do. The apartment 
we lived in was relatively small and didn't need a lot of housework on my 
hands, I spent a lot of it worrying about things that I probably wouldn't 
have considered if I had been busier, and I wound up getting upset. Finally, 
I could take the boredom no longer and decided that as long as I had a lot 
of time I might as well use it to improve myself, and I enrolled in an 
extension program to get my high school diploma, and also to learn some 
useful employment skills. 

"Why do you want to do that?" Tom asked with obvious aggravation when he 
found out about my plans to go back to school. "I told you that you'd never 
have to go to work again." 

"Maybe I want to," I said, "just for something to do, since we aren't making 
any progress on that family we'd planned." 

"Oh, come on, don't start that. We've got plenty of time for that. There's 
no need to rush things," he said as I listlessly nodded okay and went along 
with him as usual. But I did go ahead and enroll in school, the first 
independent thing I had done since our marriage, and my involvement with 
that made my life a lot more interesting. 

Before I knew it we were celebrating our first anniversary, still happy, but 
getting kind of restless with each other. I had gotten my high school 
diploma and was now actually taking some courses for college credit. I 
couldn't believe my progress, but I was the only one who seemed excited 
about it. 

 Tom was involved with his job, and although we managed to go out once or 
twice a week it seemed as though we were doing it just because we thought we 
should. Also, even when we did go out we always managed to drop by this 
party, or run into that group of people, and we wouldn't have the chance to 
be alone. Tom loved being around other people, and they loved making him the 
center of attention. 

Things moved on pretty much the same way, and gradually the talk of the 
house and family faded and was finally absent from our conversations with 
each other. I was busy going to school studying secretarial management, and 
the days didn't drag by as much as they had before. Soon, our second 
anniversary was upon us, and not long after that my twentieth birthday. Tom, 
by now, knew how old I was, and promised to reserve a night alone-just the 
two of us-far my birthday. 

As I puttered around the apartment on the day I turned twenty, I couldn't 
help but look forward to the evening Tom had promised me. I anticipated that 
a large portion of it would be devoted to lovemaking, something which we 
hadn't been doing very much of lately. Our lives had become steeped in so 
much routine that after more than two years of marriage we seemed to be 
taking each other for granted. Often we would go over a week without making 
love, and when we did it was often mechanical and sometimes uneventful in 
that frequently I didn't experience orgasm. 

Tom had gotten into the habit of rolling over and going to sleep just after 
he had had his climax, sometimes leaving me lying there on the bed with my 
legs apart, his cum dribbling out of my cunt with my body still as taut as a 
bowstring, the tension screaming to be released. I hoped that on this night 
of my birthday. Tom would take the time to love me slow and tantalizingly, 
the way I loved it, rubbing his hands over my tits and cunt, licking my 
nipples, massaging my clitoris, eating my cunt, and then plunging his cock 
into me, pumping endlessly while I had orgasm after orgasm, my voracious 
cunt squeezing two or three loads of jism from his throbbing prick. I got so 
hot thinking about it, I wandered into the next room to look at myself in 
the full-length wall mirror. I still had my looks, I could see, and the 
thought of my body naked under Tom turned me on even more. I pulled a chair 
in front of the mirror and sat down in it, spreading my legs so I could look 
up my skirt. I had taken to not wearing any panties when I was around the 
house, and up the tunnel of my open skirt I could see my hairy, slobbering 
cunt. I immediately hiked the skirt up around my hips and stretched my legs 
upward, putting my feet against the wall and shoving my steaming gash to 
only a few inches from the mirror so I could watch it palpitate and quiver 
as I dug my fingers into it, watching its thick discharge pour all over my 
probing hand. An orgasm quickly swept through me, and as I got up and 
smoothed down my skirt, I began looking forward all over again to my evening 
alone with Tom. 

Tom was supposed to be home at six, but by seven he still wasn't there. I 
began to get worried, afraid that he had been in an accident since he had 
promised to be home for my birthday, but also wondering if he was just too 
busy for me. I had bought all of our favorite foods-steak, artichokes, 
strawberries, wine-and had fixed a sumptuous spread for us to nibble on 
prior to our lovemaking. I had changed into a pair of very sheer lounging 
pajamas with nothing underneath and, now, as the clock inched toward 
seven-thirty, I felt foolish sitting around the apartment alone with a bunch 
of cold food dressed like a call girl. As time went on, I didn't know 
whether to be worried, angry, or disappointed. Just as I had made up my mind 
to call Tom's office and find out if he had been delayed, I heard him coming 
through the door. 

"Where have you been?" I blurted out. "Do you know what time it is?" 

"I'm sorry," he said, "but something came up. But I'm going to make it all 
up to you." He had his arms behind his back and then suddenly whipped out a 
gorgeous bouquet of red roses. "Happy birthday," he said. 

I had always been a sucker for Tom's charm and quickly gave in to his smile, 
his excuse, and his roses. From there my birthday improved. We had a 
delicious meal after I'd heated it up, and Tom presented me with a lovely 
watch as a present with my name, Honeysuckle, engraved on the back of it. As 
I placed it around my wrist and admired it, he asked, "Did you get what you 
wanted?" 

"Not everything," I said provocatively as I walked over to him and sat on 
his lap. He quickly slipped a hand inside the low neckline of my lounging 
pajamas and gently squeezed one of my tits while his other hand began 
stroking my crotch. I could see a bulge begin to protrude between his legs 
and I didn't waste any time leaning down and unzipping his pants and fishing 
out his erect cock. 

Slipping off his lap, I dropped to my knees on the floor and wrapped my lips 
around his prick, shooting my mouth all the way down to its base and 
suppressing my reflex to gag. He eased himself down on the floor beside me 
with my lips still enveloping his pulsating cock. As I continued to suck, I 
worked his trousers off while he undid the lounging pajamas which dropped 
from as if they weren't there, since they were made to be taken off. 

Wit my lips still clutching Tom's prick, which seemed to get even bigger 
under my oral stimulation, we repositioned ourselves so that I was crouched 
on top of him facing his feet, with my open, steaming cunt dripping in his 
face. 

"Smother me," he said, and I obediently lowered my hips and let my cunt 
squish against his face while he began to eat me. 

Tom's groin kept thrusting upward, causing his cock to strain the capacity 
of my mouth, the tip actually plunging into my throat he shoved so deeply. 
Meanwhile, I wiggled my ass for all I was worth, smearing my cuntlips 
against his ravenous mouth, his hot tongue stabbing my rigid clit. 

Suddenly I felt an overwhelming urge to have him inside me, and leaving his 
cock standing straight up in the air, I sat up and moved forward. Lifting my 
body above his about a foot, I placed my hands on either side of my cunt, 
parting the lips, and slowly and tantalizingly brought it down over his 
prick, swallowing it entirely inside me as I sat on him. 

"Just lay there and let me do all the work," I said as I began undulating on 
top of him, fucking him as hard as I could. Just to drive him crazy I turned 
around with his cock still in me, the circular friction making him shudder 
in delight as I now faced him. I leaned over as I continued to rotate my 
hips, shooting my tongue into his mouth. I threw my arms around his neck as 
I could feel his cock swell to the bursting point, seeming to batter my cunt 
walls and crash into my womb. 

I knew he was going to come as I embraced him with all my might and prepared 
for a shattering orgasm. Instantly I felt my insides bathed with a shower of 
scalding cum as his pounding cock spurted oceans of the sticky fluid. In the 
space of a few seconds, I felt one, two, three orgasms occur successively, 
the effects of each one building on top of the next one until I felt Ii was 
going to explode with pleasure. 

Later, we lay side by side on the floor, exhausted from our fucking. 
Finally, after a long period of silence while we both caught our breath, and 
I bathed in the afterglow of my multiple orgasms, Tom propped himself up on 
an elbow, and said, "Honeysuckle, I have another present for you." 

"Oh, what?" I said anxiously. 

"Well," he said, "this is not the easiest thing to say, but I might as well 
come right out with it. I feel lousy about the way I've been treating you." 

Languishing in the afterglow of our fuck, I was willing to forgive and 
forget anything, saying, "That's all right, darling, I know your job keeps 
you busy, and you're just trying to do the best you can for me." 

"No," he insisted, "that's the easy way to describe what's been going on. 
The fact is that I haven't done my best. I've ignored you for so long that I 
wonder why you haven't left me." 

"Don't be silly!" I said, shocked. What was he trying to get at? I wondered. 

"Starting now," he continued, "I'm going to make it up to you." 

"You already have," I sighed, parting my thighs and rubbing my cunt. 

"No, seriously," he said, "I'm really going to make it up to you. How 
exciting can your life be with me working all the time, always coming home 
late. It seems like we hardly ever see each other any more. I feel like I 
owe you a little more excitement in life. My life is interesting with my job 
and all, but what about yours?" 

He seemed so sincere with what he was saying, and I welcomed the attention 
so, that I didn't dare break the spell by mentioning that my life would be 
very interesting if he had kept his promise about a house and children. So I 
said nothing as he continued talking. 

"Honeysuckle," he said, "I think it's time, well, it's time 

Suddenly it occurred to me that maybe he was thinking the same things I was, 
and that he was going to suggest that we get started on our family, better 
late than never. "Yes, Tom?" I responded with tingling anticipation. 

"Well, darling," he said earnestly, looking me straight in the eye, "I think 
it's time we broadened our horizons to bring some excitement back into our 
lives. I've made friends with some people who are into something that seems 
like, if we tried it, would bring us closer together than ever." 

"What are you talking about?" 00:59 / 00:59ing more curious with each 
moment. 

"Here goes," he said, "I know you're going to be surprised. These friends of 
mine are members of a group where the members get together once or twice a 
week and completely let their hair down, if you know what I mean." 

"No, I'm not sure I do," I said, puzzled. "You mean group therapy?" 

"Well, sort of," he said, "but not with a shrink. It's a lot more intimate 
and honest than that." 

"I'm not sure I understand. What exactly do they do?" I asked. 

"They make love," he said simply. 

"Make love!" I blurted out incredulously. "Do you mean wife-swapping?" 

He laughed uneasily and said, "No, that's not what it is at all, that's just 
a lot of idiotic publicity a lot of uptight puritans have made about it. 
It's actually a form of communication, a kind of sensitivity training. The 
purpose of it is to actually bring husbands and wives closer together. 
Everyone I know who is involved with the group says they feel closer to 
their husbands and wives than they ever did, and that's what I want for us, 
to be even closer than we were when we first fell in love." 

"What's involved?" I asked suspiciously. Because I hadn't absolutely 
refused, he seemed heartened and his tone of voice became more confident. 
"Well, like I said, they get together, maybe three or four couples, at 
someone's house for probably dinner and a few drinks. Then after a while 
everyone sits around talking, discussing their feelings, you know, their 
secret fantasies and desires, and so forth. Everyone is completely honest 
with each other, and everyone starts feeling closer and closer as the 
evening goes on. They start caring for each other as human beings to the 
point where they actually feel love for one another. Eventually, the most 
natural thing for them to do is to act out the way they feel by making love 
with each other." 

"You mean you'd be with someone else's wife?" I asked. "And I'd be with some 
other man?" 

"Just physically for a short time, but, actually, we'd be doing it for each 
other. As we became more sensitive to others, it's only natural that we'd 
become more sensitive to each other. My friends tell me that after an 
evening like the one I described, they can't wait to get home and get into 
the sack. How does that sound to you?" 

"Most unusual," I said, not being able to think of any other response. 

"I know it's a big step for us," he said, "but I think it'll add a lot of 
happiness to our lives. Anyway, my surprise is that I've arranged for us to 
be introduced to the group tomorrow night. Isn't it exciting?" 

I stood up and walked over to the couch and took a blanket off it and 
wrapped it around me, then sat down and lit a cigarette. "To tell you the 
truth," I said, "it's a lot more scary than it is exciting. Are you sure 
this is what you want to do, Tom?" 

"Very much," he said, nodding his head. 

I was very confused. I had no desire to make love to anyone else but Tom. My 
problem was not that I wanted to fuck another man, my problem was that I 
wanted to fuck the man I already had more than I had recently. 

Still, there was a core of truth in what Tom had said in that it was 
apparent we had been drifting apart, and that the spark in our relationship 
had been fading for some time. Anything that might bring us closer together 
might be worth trying, even this. And I had to admit that the way Tom 
presented the group and its purpose sounded like it made some sense. Maybe 
my shock to it had just been that I had never thought about things in the 
way he'd presented them before. Also, I had tried to be a good wife and 
leave the final decisions to my husband, and he was so intent on his 
proposal that I didn't have the heart to start disagreeing with him now. 
Finally, I said, "If you're sure it's what you want, Tom, I'm willing to try 
it." 

"Oh, thank you," he said, coming over to me and kissing me. "I can promise 
you, you won't be sorry." 

 Chapter Ten 

My vow of celibacy was easy to make, but living up to it was hard. My heart 
ached for love and my cunt screamed to have a cock inside it or a hot mouth 
licking it. I tried to ignore both urges, but frequently they were too much. 
As a compromise I bought a vibrator and masturbated with it when my craving 
for sex seemed ready to overwhelm me. But, sometimes, even that wasn't 
enough and I found myself out in the streets or in bars trying to pick up 
men to fuck me. 

Still, however, I maintained my resolve not to get involved, and whatever 
sex I had was on a one-night-stand basis. Most of the time I tried to keep 
busy improving myself and it seemed like I was always in motion. 
Fortunately, the schooling I had gotten while married to Tom enabled me to 
get a decent job for the first time in my life, which meant I could afford a 
nice apartment that I could spend time decorating. What helped me keep 
myself together as much as anything was the volunteer work I took up at the 
children's hospital. 

 Months went by, and before I knew it I had passed my twenty-second 
birthday. Still, I was painfully aware through every waking hour, and 
frequently through my dreams, that I was missing something, and that 
something was sex on a continuous basis. I confided in Dolly, my co-worker 
at the office, and she wound up repaying the confidence I placed in her by 
concluding that I was "plain sex-hungry". 

And now, after all this time, I had given in to the lure of an attractive 
man and accepted this luncheon date with Perry Middleton. Although part of 
me yearned to receive sexual gratification, I had developed the non-sexual 
part of my thinking to such an extent that I knew for my own self-respect 
and emotional well-being I had to keep a safe, respectable distance from 
him. 

The luncheon date turned out to be very tame. Perry was waiting for me in 
front of the restaurant at one. "Hi," he said eagerly. "You'll probably 
think I'm crazy, but I couldn't wait inside. I was afraid you'd stand me 
up." He gave me a big grin and I had to admit that he was very appealing in 
a shy way. 

I smiled faintly and he led me inside. 

The waitress gave us a booth in the back. When she walked away, Perry said 
earnestly, "I hope you don't think I make a habit of meeting girls this way. 

"I didn't think about it one way or the other," I said, deliberately trying 
to sound indifferent. 

He went on trying to make conversation, and I politely answered, but always 
kept a certain amount of aloofness. Finally, he blurted out, "What's the 
matter? You seem as though you don't like me." 

He was so nice that his obvious disappointment made me feel like a heel. I 
explained to him that, as a matter of fact, he was the nicest man I had met 
in some time, but that, frankly, I'd had some recent romantic reversals and 
I was hesitant about getting involved again. 

"I can assure you I'm harmless," he said, smiling, and I had to laugh. "Can 
I see you again?" he asked. 

"Why don't you call me," I said. "My lunch hour is almost over and I have to 
get back to the office." I started to get up. 

"What's your number?" he asked. 

"It's in the book," I said. 

"I don't even know your name 

"Honeysuckle Rafferty. Thanks for the lunch, Perry, I'll talk to you later," 
I said, and left. 

The telephone book also includes a person's address as well as their phone 
number, something I hadn't thought of when I'd given Perry my name and told 
him to look me up in the book. When I got home that evening I discovered 
that he had decided to find out where I lived instead of calling me because 
he was waiting outside my door. I was quite surprised to see him, but 
managed to display surface calm when I said, "Hello. I thought you were 
going to call me?" 

"I couldn't wait to see you," he said. There was something odd about-the way 
he was standing. His arms were- behind him as though he were concealing 
something. 

"I'm flattered, Perry," I said, "but I'm tired and want to take a hot bath." 

"I'd like to come in," he said. 

"I'm sorry, Perry," I said, starting to lose my patience but trying not to 
show it, "maybe some other time." 

I started to unlock the door, and just as the key turned he suddenly leapt 
at me, pulling his arms from behind him and revealing a butcher knife in one 
hand. I stood petrified as he brandished the knife. Before I could move he 
grabbed me around the neck with one arm and held the knife to my throat, 
hissing in my ear, "Let me in, or I'll slit your throat right here, I swear 
it." 

As the cold steel of the knife nicked my throat, I knew I had no choice. I 
opened the door and we walked inside, his arm still clutched around my neck 
with the knife at my throat as he kicked the door shut. 

"You know what I'm going to do, don't you?" he said. 

"You're going to rape me," I said resignedly. 

"That's right. A girl who's smart enough to figure that out isn't going to 
be dumb enough to resist, right?" 

I nodded my head yes. Inside, I was thinking that I had no right to resist 
After all, I had brought it on myself by breaking my vow and accepting the 
date with him and leading him on. I just wanted to get it over with without 
being hurt. 

"Take off your clothes," he instructed me, freeing me at last. "But no 
tricks or I'll kill you." 

I kicked off my shoes, and then reached up under my skirt and started 
working my pantyhose down my hips and legs. I was now nude underneath 
because I hadn't been wearing any panties. I unbuttoned the skirt and let it 
fall to the floor and stepped out of it. After I slipped my sweater over my 
head and let it drop to the floor, I was wearing only my bra. I was starting 
to remove it when he came over and stood next to me. 

"Let me do it," he said. Before I could move he slipped the cold blade of 
his knife beneath one of the straps and silt it. Then he moved the blade to 
the other side and did the same thing. Finally he placed the point of the 
knife between my tits and flicked it upward, slashing the front of my bra 
and drawing blood from a small nick on my chest. My bra fell to the floor 
and I stood naked before him, blood trickling from between my tits and down 
my belly. 

"What do you want me to do now?" I said, anxious to get the whole thing over 
with. 

"Take my prick out of my pants and suck it," he commanded. 

I leaned over and started to unzip his fly. 

"On your knees, bitch, on your knees!" he spat at me. 

I quickly dropped to my knees and continued unzipping his pants. To my 
surprise, when I stuck my hand inside his fly I could feel nothing. After 
feeling around for a few seconds I finally located his cock and discovered 
that it was completely limp. When I pulled it out, I saw that it was 
shrunken-looking. I couldn't understand how he couldn't have a hard-on when 
he seemed so aroused, panting like a bull over me. 

"Suck, suck it, you cunt," he snarled. 

I put my mouth over his shriveled cock, washing it in saliva, working my 
tongue over its soft head. But nothing happened. Then it hit me: Perry was 
impotent! He must have had something stuck in his pants that day I first saw 
him in the restaurant and I noticed a bulge. He was even more sexually 
confused than I was, and was acting out his confusion and frustration over 
being impotent by attempting to rape me. Obviously, he hated women and 
blamed them for his affliction. I was sure of this as the longer and harder 
I sucked, the limper his cock became. 

And then, after I had been futilely sucking him for perhaps five minutes, he 
suddenly lunged his knee upward and crashed it against my jaw sending me 
hurtling back across the room, my head in a daze. I lay there on my back, my 
legs apart, feeling my jaw start to swell, trying to remain conscious. 

"You bitch, you rotten bitch!" he screamed. "You're all alike. You're all 
whores. There isn't one of you decent enough to make me want you, to satisfy 
me." Then he advanced menacingly toward me, snarling, "I'll teach you a 
lesson you'll never forget, you cocksucking slut!" 

Oh, God, I thought, he's going to kill me! But I was too terrified to 
scream. Then, just as he reached where I was lying, he threw away the knife, 
and I breathed a sigh of relief. But without warning, he shot his foot 
between my parted thighs, kicking me in the crotch with all of his might. 
The pain was excruciating as blackness started to envelop my senses and I 
knew I was going to be spared from any more of it because I was going to 
pass out. I was almost grateful as I slid into the abyss of unconsciousness. 

When I finally came to, he was gone. I lay in a heap on the floor, my body 
aching. When I looked down between my legs I could see that his kick had 
fortunately not struck me directly on my cunt but at the top of my thigh, 
which was flaw swollen and black and blue. I pulled myself up using a chair 
for balance and then staggered into the bathroom and looked at my face in 
the mirror. It was swollen, cut and bruised, and it was obvious that he had 
slapped me around after I'd passed out. I looked down at my chest and saw 
the dried blood between my tits where he had nicked me with his knife. 

It never entered my mind to call the police. It seemed to me that I had 
deserved everything I had gotten. I should have known that I just couldn't 
get involved with somebody without disaster striking; it was as if I had 
done something terrible to him instead of him to me. 

I turned on the bath water, and when the tub was full, got in and soaked, 
nursing my wounds. What was I going to do? It was obvious that I couldn't 
conduct a mature adult relationship; but, on the other hand, if I didn't 
have my sexual urges satisfied they would eventually lead me into disastrous 
situations. The only solution was to find some way to satiate my sexual 
drives without any risk of emotional involvement. 

Then I recalled the time after Grandma had died before I had run off with 
Jeff. I had been just a child, not really knowing what I was doing, but 
those sexual experiences with Margot's boyfriends had always left me 
satisfied without getting me involved with anyone. I was so young there was 
no risk of romantic involvement, the element which always led to personal 
tragedy. 

But I was twenty-two; I could never be a child again. There was no way I 
could re-create the past. Or was there? 

By the time of my next volunteer night at the children's hospital, my cuts 
and bruises from Perry's attempted rape had almost healed and I looked 
fairly presentable. I went to work that day, avoiding, of course, the 
restaurant where I had met Perry, and looked forward to being through for 
the day so I could go to the hospital. 

My floor was quiet when I got there. I signed in and walked alone down the 
corridor toward a room where the patient was a eighteen-year-old boy named 
John who had been in an accident on his motorcycle and had struck his head, 
and was being held for observation. I had made friends with him the last 
time I had been at the hospital and we were on a first-name basis. I knew 
from reading his record that his parents were divorced and his mother was 
working nights, so he would be alone this evening. 

From the time I had spent with him the last time I had been on duty I knew 
that he was the kind of guy who could keep his mouth shut. I could also tell 
that he was becoming a man by the way he had absent-mindedly fiddled with 
his cock beneath his bed clothes the last time I had sat on his bed and 
visited with him. 

"All right, Johnny," I whispered in his ear, "fuck my cunt! Make me hot! I 
like your cock! I'd rather fuck you than do anything else in the world!" 

As he wordlessly began pumping his old prick inside my hungry cunt and I 
thrust back wildly at him, I knew I had found the solution to the problems 
of my tangled life. 


End
