Widespread Whore
by Austin Williams


Chapter One 

Freda Thurlowe was not medically trained. In fact, it was a considerable 
challenge to her to handle a fingernail filed too close at the corner. But 
there she was, balancing a bottle of Merthiolate in her left hand and 
dabbing at Tuesday Noir's bleeding crotch. 

"Jesus Christ! The son of a bitch damn near chewed you up and spit you right 
out on the floor!" she exploded. "What kind of a mangy mother-fucker would 
bite chunks out of a girl?" 

"Shit, I don't know," Tuesday said wearily. "He was one of those 
smooth-talking cats when we haggled over the money, but once he got his 
pants off and caught sight of me bare, then he just went right out of his 
tree." 

Freda dabbed on some more of the medicine and was gratified to see Tuesday 
wince. "If it burns, that's good," she said. "My grandmother always said the 
burning was a sign the germ was dying-" 

"You and your grandmother," Tuesday sniffed. "I bet she never had any of 
that stuff stuck up her cunt. Goddamn! It's just like liquid fire." 

"Maybe we shouldn't be putting it on there," Freda said doubtfully. 

"Oh, goddamn! We've got to put it on," Tuesday said through her teeth. "That 
miserable cock-sucker probably has some creeping Chinese disease on his 
mouth. 'Bout my luck to have my snatch drop out just when we're getting 
ready for the football crowds. Hell, I bet I won't be able to fuck for a 
week," 

"Oh, it won't be that long," Freda assured her. "And even if it is, hell, 
blow-jobs are selling for more than just plain old fucking. Get down on 
those dicks, and you'll be banking plenty even if your snatch is a little 
gnawed up." 

"Man, I can suck a cock with anybody," Tuesday said, "but these bastards who 
never wash 'em. So help me Jesus, I tried to eat a dick last week that had 
so much cheese caked on the head I goddamn near gagged. The guy was holding 
a wad of money or I would have told him to shove it. After I ate all the 
slit off his dick, he was a cheap mother. Laid a ten on me. I told him he 
ought to get up off at least fifty." 

Freda replaced the top of the bottle. "Well, it'll be as good as new in no 
time. And listen, make those scummy assholes wash their cocks off. They know 
the damn things're dirty, and they know they stink." 

"Naw, nobody ever thinks his cock's dirty and smelly. Like us. You ever 
think your cunt smells?" 

"Hell, I know it does!" Freda said. "Jesus, after a Saturday night when I've 
screwed a battalion of-men, I can smell the damn thing a block away." 

"How many bites I got down there?" asked Tuesday. 

"Well, he got you real good right in the twat. Looks like he tried to bite 
the left lip off. That's a real bad place. Then you got a bunch of scratches 
over the inside of your legs running all back to your asshole. You got a 
couple of nips out of your stomach, too. But the main thing is that big 
chunk right out of the middle of your cunt." 

"I wish I could have pissed in his face or, even better, blown him out with 
a big fart!" 

Freda laughed. "You're okay. You'll be going strong tomorrow." 

"Yeah, I guess," Tuesday said. "Thanks for the paint job." 

"Think nothin' of it," Freda said. "You're a tough ole gal. How'd you ever 
turn hooker anyhow? Not that it's any of my business..." 

"Oh, shit. I'm not touchy about what's happened to me," Tuesday said. "It's 
been a great big sack of skunk-shit as long as I can remember. Hell, I never 
had nothing worth a damn, and I guess I was always trying to shove some 
pussy off in exchange for a friend or a chance to be somebody." 

"Yeah?" 

"Yeah, like I can remember when I was eighteen. That summer they sent me to 
a miserable camp. Shit, it was worse than a prison. All these split-tailed 
assholes who were so fucking cute. And you know me.. . hell...I'm trying to 
be friendly with everybody, hoping to God somebody'd be decent. Oh, I can 
remember it like right now. It was as hot as the hubs of hell, and we were 
all sleeping naked..." 

The rich snots went to the mountains, the folks kinda in the middle went to 
camps, and the poor whites and Negroes went to "Day Camps". Older guys were 
crowding the market as counselors. They worked the camps, taking their girl 
pussies where they could sneak them. 

Tuesday's mother refused to consider any camp where there were men on the 
staff. 

"Absolutely not!" she said, slapping the palm of her hand down on the 
kitchen table for emphasis. "Tuesday is not going out there with some 
sex-crazed woodmen. Lord knows I've worked all these years to keep her a 
virgin, and I'm not sending her where there're men or even guys." 

The old man was a sore-codded old failure whose last hard-on had been the 
occasion for a three-day celebration, but it had been so long ago that 
nobody, not even the old man himself, could be exactly certain when. Since 
he was not fucking the old woman at all, she spent her time thinking about 
who else was and might be fucking Generally, it was a harmless pastime, but 
it was no help to Tuesday who wanted to go to a private camp at Yodel Hole, 
Virginia. 

"NO!" her mother thundered. "You'll go to the camp where they have Christian 
ladies of refinement and some breeding to look after you. At least you can't 
be raped in an all-girl camp." 

Pity the poor woman's total ignorance. Tuesday arrived on a Sunday 
afternoon, and was "processed" and assigned to a cabin. There were four 
other girls in the crude shelter, and Tuesday didn't like the way the 
mattress smelled. 

Then she met Miss Emilia Douche (pronounced, she was cautioned), "doo-shay", 
with the accent on the last syllable). Miss Douche was a real, sure enough 
Frenchie, who had been to school, according to report, in Paris itself. She 
was butchy, and walked with a masculine swing to her shoulders. Her 
close-cropped hair framed a strong-featured face, and in her shorts, she 
displayed an excellent set of well-tanned legs. Tuesday noted that Miss 
Douche did not hold much in the mammary or tit department, but this was a 
minor point. The girl smiled, and offered Tuesday her hand. 

"Come on, honey," she invited. "You're new, so let me show you around." 

There followed a tour of the camp, and Tuesday was simply overwhelmed to 
find in the next couple of days that Miss Douche was her almost constant 
companion. On the evening of the third day, the counselor offered an 
unexpected prize. 

"Why don't you come up and sleep with me, Tuesday?" she asked. "I have a 
great big bed all to myself, and I'd just love to have you. We could have.., 
fun!" The last was offered with a deliciously suggestive inflection which 
led Tuesday's stomach to contact with pleasurable pangs of anticipation. She 
could just picture the two of them with a flashlight under the covers after 
lights out, eating cookies which had been stolen from the kitchen. 

Tuesday accepted Miss Douche's invitation, and was tingling all over with 
anticipation as she moved her things into the counselor's comfortable 
quarters. 

"Here, dear, put your clothes in the closet, and let's get in bed! I've been 
wanting to get to bed with you for the longest time." 

"Oh, yes," Tuesday answered breathlessly. "Me, too!" 

"You have?" Miss Douche asked, amazed. "You think we can have fun in bed?" 

"Sure we can," Tuesday said. "You show me how." 

Emilia Douche was thirty years old, and except for a deficiency in the 
boobie department. I was a magnificent piece of human construction. She 
could have attracted big, juicing, swinging cocks from a radius of several 
hundred miles. She could have been eaten and buggered by some of the more 
attractive men in two states. And had these attractions not turned her on, 
she could have chosen a lezzie partner from uncounted thousands of adult 
women who liked their vice versa. She had an oozing snatch for Tuesday from 
the moment the teen went through her "processing". 

Tuesday was a honey blonde whose natural ringlets swept away from her high 
forehead. Her nose was pretty and her short upper lip gave her an appearance 
of pleasant pouting. The young woman was cute, as everybody back home said, 
and to Miss Douche, she represented the most succulent morsel ever offered.
 "Tuesday," she said. "I want you to take off all your clothes and be 
naked." 

"You gonna take yours off, too?" Tuesday asked, all excited. 

"Yes. Yes, I am," Miss Douche replied. She began to pull her shirt over her 
head as Tuesday quickly got down to the buff. When they were both naked, 
Tuesday did not laugh or make reference to the thatched pussy bush between 
Emilia's legs. She did, however, look pointedly at the quivering cunt, and 
Emilia was so hot just from the glance that she was certain she would come 
as soon as she touched Tuesday's dainty snatch. 

Miss Douche turned out the light, leaving the room bathed in a soft glow of 
moonlight. It was sufficient for Tuesday to see that Emilia's nipples were 
very pronounced and hard. The titties were small, but those nipples beat 
anything Tuesday had ever seen. She thought Miss Douche undoubtedly had the 
nicest, cleanest body in the whole world. She was so tanned! And she smelled 
so fresh! 

"Lie down," Emilia said in a deepening, husky voice. "On your back, with 
your legs spread apart." 

"Now," she said, climbing on the bed and straddling Tuesday's left leg, "we 
am going to play. ... we're going to make love. I'll show you how. Just lie 
still. You'll like what I'm going to do. Then, after I do it to you, you can 
do it to me." 

"Oh, I'd like that," Tuesday said, shivering with delight. "Show me how to 
do whatever it is." 

Emilia ran her fingers lightly over Tuesday's body, beginning at her 
titties, and sweeping down across her stomach to her legs. Special emphasis 
was given to the inside of Tuesday's thighs. Oh, how tender and sweet was 
the flesh there! 

Carefully, Emilia avoided direct contact with Tuesday's pussy slash, but she 
allowed her fingers to play lightly aver the twat lips. The very delicate 
touch of those tapering fingers sent a quiver of pleasure over Tuesday. It 
was sure fun to be naked with Miss Douche. 

The sweeping of the fingertips increased in tempo, and Emilia alternated her 
hands so that when the right was down low, the left was at the top, starting 
a new path between the tiny titties. Tuesday didn't know why, but when 
Emilia's finger brushed over her pussy, she involuntarily tightened her 
asshole. Uuummm! It was really fun! 

Emilia was panting. She was so terribly hot. God, how she wanted to feel the 
warmth of that young body against herself! 

She toyed with various ideas on how to get her first orgasm. Of course, it 
was going to be a swift and crude thing. Teaching Tuesday to lick a pussy 
might take a day or longer, and Emilia wanted to avoid any action which 
might, scare her. Oh, well, hell! 

She lay down beside Tuesday, and slipped one arm under the girl's body. 
Crooking the arm, she was about to turn Tuesday on one side, and they were 
face to face. 

With her free hand, Miss Douche reached around and took Tuesday's firm ass, 
and pulled her up close. Tuesday cooperated by wriggling in as tight as she 
could. Tuesday liked the feel of Miss Douche's nipples, and Emilia almost 
lost her breath when the contact was made at titty level. The touch of her 
boobs against Tuesday so excited Emilia that she allowed her fingers to 
wander in between the cheeks of the teen's ass. 

And Oh, Jesus! There was her asshole! Too early to go into it, but, please 
God, Emilia prayed, just let me touch it. Oh! There it was! 

When Emilia's index finger was planted on Tuesday's asshole, the girl 
hunched, and in so doing she brought the front of her well-made 

thigh up between Miss Douche's legs, and banged it sharply against her furry 
and chipping cunt. 

That did it! Douche climaxed and, moaning, she began to lick and kiss 
Tuesday about the face. Tuesday kissed back, and was amazed to find Miss 
Douche sticking her tongue down her throat. That was fun! 

Once she started to come, Miss Douche kept the orgasms railing. She pulled 
Tuesday up close and rolled over on her back. Thus, Emilia had Tuesday on 
top, with a meaty leg rubbing against her burning cunt. Miss Douche was so 
violent in her squirming and bunching that various parts of her body were 
coming in contact with Tuesday's pussy. 

The sensation was delightful! Tuesday sometimes rubbed her box while sitting 
in the bathtub, and sometimes at night when she was certain Momma wasn't 
coming, she would elevate her nightgown and play with her twat. It had all 
been external, and she had not climaxed. But it was good! 

Miss Douche was even better. Playing round the whole was an innovation which 
Tuesday relished. Ooooh! That made it so much more fun, and... Good Night! 
Miss Douche was going to kiss her...surely not...well, by golly, she did. 
Right in the pussy! Oooooh! Now that was something! Oh, good! 

Tuesday began to match her older friend wiggle for wiggle. Without knowing 
why, she suddenly took Miss Douche's left titty into her mouth and 

Was sucking it for all she was worth. A feel with which she was not familiar 
seemed to rise out from her crotch and burn all through her body. 

God, Miss Douche had stuck her tongue up inside... No! Yes! Miss Douche was 
licking inside of Tuesday's pussy. 

Tuesday sucked on the titty harder and attempted to reach around Miss Douche 
to get at the counselor's asshole. Tuesday liked the finger pressing gently 
on her brownie ... just about as much as she liked that wet, flashing tongue 
working its way around inside her pee-hole. 

Ooooh! 

Tuesday felt like she was about to pee and do number two at the same time. 
Oh, she was going to do it! There came over her the grandest, awfullest, 
sweetest, most frightening feeling ever! 

She shuddered, and quivered, and dug her fingers into Miss Douche as she 
reached her first come. 

"You're coming," Miss Douche whispered breathlessly. "Isn't it wonderful! 
Oh, Tuesday, keep going now, you're beginning to learn how to do it." 

Tuesday had no idea of doing anything else, less than continuing. She- was 
hot, tough at the time she would not have understood the term. As she felt 
the great ball of fire roll about her body, Tuesday hoped that Miss Douche 
would keep licking up her pussy forever. 

Oh, it was so good! Tuesday wanted some more of that sweet tongue up her 
snatch, and, if possible, she wanted to get closer, more involved. 

Emilia realized that Tuesday was overcome, swept away by the power of her 
first climax. She was also perceptive enough to know that Tuesday wanted to 
get it again. This torrid moment of first desire was the time, then, to 
break the girl in correctly. The Bible says, as the twig is bent, so grows 
the tree. Starting a girl off as a lesbian requires a proper appreciation 
for the necessity of participation. Emilia did not have the least idea of 
letting Tuesday be a passive partner. 

"Now, Tuesday, isn't it fun?" 

"Yes, yes!" the teen cried. "Let's do it some more!" 

"Sure we will, but I want you to do everything I do. Okay?" 

"Oh, yes, I'll do anything!" 

Emilia patted Tuesday on the as lovingly. "Good. Now turn around and put 
your head down where you can kiss into my pussy." 

"You want me to kiss it? You want me to stick my tongue up your pussy like 
you did mine?" 

Miss Douche felt her knees melt at the prospect. God, this was all too good 
to be true! A real, truly inclined lezzie. Oh, sweet Jesus, thank you and 
God, too, for sending this along. Oh, Tuesday was an angel, heaven sent to 
give poor Emilia's tongue-starved cunt some relief. 

"Yes, that's it! Shove your tongue in my gash! 

Now, lick up at the top. Feel that hard place? That's a clitoris. Here, let 
me feel you. 

There ... . there! See! You have one, too. Here, see how it feels when I 
lick it." 

Emilia applied her tongue to the almost hidden clit of Tuesday and when the 
contact was firmly made, Tuesday almost cried aloud. 

It was such a heavenly feeling! Oh, how good it was to kiss and lick in Miss 
Douche's pussy. Golly, it sure was wet. Had she been pissing? No, it didn't 
smell like pee. It was. . . well, oily. That made it easy to get up inside 
her snatch. Oh, Miss Douche was just full of great surprises. Tuesday loved 
her. 

They ate each other's pussies, and Tuesday worked with an ever-increasing 
deftness and appreciation. She was having the best time of her whole life, 
thanks to Emilia. 

After coming once, Tuesday was slow to come again, because every time the 
climax approached, she was a little taken aback by the violence of her 
feeling, and she would unintentionally do something to change the course of 
things and keep her from blowing off. 

But Emilia kept coming time after time, until she was fearful for her 
sanity. Really, she wanted to change things. She wanted to get up Tuesday's 
asshole and show Tuesday how to go up her own bung, but Emilia Douche had 
never in her whole life been so completely satisfied. 

Oh, Tuesday was a lamb, a wonder of wonders! And Emilia was determined to 
keep the girl near her. Oh, she would work in a shit-house, eat acorns and 
drink creek water, but she could never allow Tuesday to get away again. 

They kept eating and slurping each other's cunts until Emilia had come ten 
times of which she could be certain, and others, perhaps, which had been 
beyond her capacity to recall. She decided that she would hold off and come 
once more, and that she would concentrate on Tuesday's snatch to make 
certain the girl ended their first session racked with the shivers of 
orgasm. Once a girl got used to the idea of coming, Emilia felt, she could 
be counted on. 

Tuesday was gobbling in Emilia's cunt, and the wetness from the hole, plus 
the overflow from Tuesday's mouth had dipped and saturated the bed. But 
Tuesday didn't care. How sweet to eat Miss Douche's pussy, and how sweet it 
was ... 

Holy God! Miss Douche had stuck her finger in Tuesday's asshole! 

The girl wanted to fill her lungs with the maximum amount of air they could 
accommodate and scream in great, pleasurable anguish. However, she was mute. 
No sound escaped her as she burrowed deeper into the muff, and twisted her 
ass about to grind the intruding finger into the most delightful spots. As 
that digit worked in her butthole, Tuesday was approaching orgasm under the 
tongue attacking her Nat She was stimulated by her own pussy-sucking, and 
just as she got her come, Miss Douche felt tiny fingers steal into the crack 
of her as, and then she came herself. They went off almost together. 

"You're wonderful!" Emilia breathed. "I love you!" 

"I love you, too, Miss Douche. Can I sleep naked here some more?" 

 Chapter Two 

"Damn, you really got told of a good one on the first round, didn't you?" 
Freda said as she prepared a douche to clear out the residue of sixteen 
loads of jizz which had been squirted into her cunt in a single night. She 
splashed a little water into her cunt between customers, but when the 
night's work was over, she really cleaned her twat out. Tuesday usually did, 
but her cunt was too tender now. 

"Yeah, I let her eat my snatch for the rest of the summer. By fall, she was 
tired of me, and I was pretty tired of her. I will say it was good. She was 
a hell of a lot better than most of the men I've known." 

"Well, you don't fuck these square idiots who pay, like, you know, not for 
real?" 

"Fuck them for real! Good Christ. Most of 'em wouldn't know which end of a 
dick to stick in if I didn't show 'em. Hell, they remind me of the first 
sure enough cock I ever got. It was the fall after Miss Douche had got me 
started. Seemed like all the girls had suddenly got awful interested in guys 
and what they were supposed to have between their legs. 

Bobo Wilder was a walking curiosity among his contemporaries at Valley View 
High School. His dick was eight and a half inches long-on hard, as they 
said-and not only did he possess this astounding piece of masculine 
equipment, but when it was properly stimulated, it could shoot a glob of 
milky white cum out the end. Not dribble-shoot! The other guys, who 
unashamedly worshiped Bobo did well to get a trace of dampness on their 
tools when they whipped them so feverishly in bed at night. Bobo was above 
and beyond jacking off in bed. 

"Hell, what would I do with all that cum? Shit, it's enough to starch a bed 
sheet stiff. My old lady would shit!" 

"That's right," they would echo. "She'd sure as hell shit!" 

Bobo had never had a piece of pussy! 

He glanced about to measure the prospects of the home stand of available 
cunt. There was not great promise, and yet.... Hey, look at that mouse over 
there. Look at that Tuesday Noir! Titties bulging there, and, oh, what a 
pretty ass! 

"I'd let her shit in my face just to see where it came from," one eager guy 
observed as Tuesday's butt switched by in the hall. 

"Shit," Bobo said, not to be topped. "I'd eat a turd fifty miles long and 
drink a bucket of piss at every crossroads just to get a sniff of her 
pussy." 

So, because another had made the observation about taking a fecal face 
smear, Bobo decided that Tuesday was to be the recipient of his monster 
cock. 

Having resolved to sink his dick into Tuesday, Bobo dried up his own income. 

He talked with her at lunch and when he could between classes, and then he 
walked her home and loitered about until her mother called her inside, and 
gave Bobo a distinctly unfriendly sniff as she banged the door shut. He had 
to remain seated on the steps for a little while to permit his tool to go 
down. Bobo got a hard-on every time he looked at Tuesday. 

Then, the second day, after being chased away again by her mother, Bobo 
encountered a serious and disturbing problem. Deep in the darkness of his 
bedroom, his mind wandered to the wondrous roundness of Tuesday's tight ass, 
and as he turned this phenomenon over in his mind, his tool rose. His cock 
was so hard it actually ached, and he fought to keep his hands off his 
suffering meat. 

Goddamn, he had to have relief. But he had sworn a solemn oath that he would 
not jack off. He would save his cum to shoot it into Tuesday's cunt. But, 
goddamn, he was hot! His nuts were aching. 

He wanted to whip that skin back and forth, wanted to feel the head of Ails 
tool swell in his hand as he neared orgasm. No! I can't wait! I must! Jesus, 
he was going out of his mind in a lather of impatient sweat. In desperation, 
he rolled over on his stomach. 

Aaaaah! As soon as his body was pressing his cock into the warmth and 
softness of the mattress, he was aflame. 

To hell with what he had said! Tuesday's teasing ass wavering in his mind, 
he began to hunch his tool into the mattress, wiggling his ass about on the 
downstroke to bury his meat as far in the goodness of the stuffing as he 
could. He pulled the covers into a knot between his legs so that his balls 
were supported and pushed upward. 

Oh, it was mighty, mighty good! He was going to come. He knew it. And what 
about the sheet? Fuck it! It would just have to be there. 

The next day, after a couple of false starts, Bobo took the bull by the 
horns and asked Tuesday if he could come over to see her that weekend. She 
was admittedly tickled pink, but at thirteen, her folks discouraged real 
dates. Maybe an afternoon stroll to the picture show, she suggested. He 
agreed, and they were both looking forward with hot pants to the mode. And, 
not strangely, each of them was trying to figure a way not to see the show. 

"Hey, tell you what!" Bobo said when they were walking alone down the street 
toward the theater. "It's such a nice day, and the leaves are turning and 
all . .. uh . . . why don't. . .uh . . we . .uh.." 

"Take a walk in the woods instead of going to the movie?" Tuesday prompted. 

"Yeah.. . that's it!" he seized on her words. "That's a great idea." 

So they joined hands and walked into the woods, and made their way through 
paths of diminishing clarity to the old rock quarry. There were countless 
crevices and little caves where anyone could hide undetected, and it was 
into one of the larger caves that Bobo led Tuesday. 

She followed eagerly. Not that she was prepared to offer her pussy up, but 
she did want to be with the big guy about whom she had heard such enticing 
stories. She was certain his tool was as big as everyone said, because she 
could see the outline of his cock when he walked. 

He took her by both hands and faced her squarely. "Tuesday, you're pretty," 
he said awkwardly. "I don't know much about how to tell you, but you know 
what I want?" 

"No," she gasped breathlessly. "What?" 

"I want to see you without no clothes on. 

Tuesday tried to look dumb. "What for?" she said. "You mean get naked here 
in the cave?" 

"That's right," he said, feeling his cock rising as she seemed to consider 
his request. "I'd get naked, too, if you'd let me." 

"Then what?" she asked with about 50-percent innocence, and 50-percent 
hard-core curiosity. 

"We could lie down and rub up against each other," he said. "I'd let you 
feel me . . . all over, and I could feel you." 

Tuesday felt a tug in her britches. She really wanted to sample his tool; 
she wanted to see what it would be like to fuck a guy. But she hesitated. 
Her mother had filled her with great dread of the day when her virtue would 
be sacrificed to the lusts of a man. And Miss Douche had warned her as well. 

So much fear of an erected cock had been poured into her that Tuesday could 
not shake it all over in a moment or two. She really had no desire for him 
to shove his dick into her pussy; rather, she wanted to feel his strong 
young muscles holding her, and she felt that it would be a worthwhile thrill 
to touch her boobies against the hardness of his chest. 

"Is that all?" she asked; "Just to feel each other?" 

He was sheepish. Bobo couldn't tell the girl a lie. 

Hell, he was a straight-shooter and she was being straight. "You want me to 
tell the truth?" 

"Yes, I sure do," she said. 

"I was hoping we could fuck!" 

He had said it. He held his breath, and to his surprised gratification, the 
roof of the cave remained intact. 

Tuesday had never heard anybody give voice to F-U-C-K. Nice girls spelled it 
or never used the term. Miss Douche made love; she did not fuck or suck. But 
Tuesday knew exactly what fleck meant. 

It meant the keen slippery tool of a guy oozing its way into a cunt end 
touching parts up inside of a girl which were beyond tongues or fingers. 

Her mother, Elmira, had hinted darkly that one cock insertion might be 
sufficient to drive a girl out of her mind. The best policy was to avoid 
dicks and the guys they were hung on. Nothing but trouble could come, but 
Tuesday was enthralled and enchanted. She wanted to see him naked and to lay 
her bare hands on his up surging dick. Throwing caution to the winds, and 
succumbing totally to her desire and her curiosity, Tuesday said: 

"Okay, but you're not gonna hurt me, are you?" 

"Oh, no... .no...!" he stammered. "Not a bit. I'll feel ever so gentle." 

She began to take off her clothes in a businesslike manner, and was almost 
naked, down to her bra and panties, when she noticed that Bobo had not begun 
to disrobe. 

"Whatcha waiting on?" she said. "Go ahead!" 

"I will, I will," he said. "I'm just waitin' a minute." 

"What for?" 

But Bobo was embarrassed. Instinctively, Tuesday knew what his problem was. 
So, clad only in her underthings, a circumstance which made his cock jump 
and leap inside his pants, she walked close to him and tenderly took his 
prick in her hand. He gasped. 

"Look, Bobo. I'm gonna see it in a minute anyway. Don't be scared. Heck, it 
was your idea to start with." 

"I know," he said, bristling. "I ain't scared." 

To prove it, he jerked his shirts over his head, and pushed his loafers off. 
Then he pulled off his socks. Well, there was nothing else to do. He flipped 
his fly open, and his pants fell about his ankles, and his shorts were not 
far behind. 

His cock was the loveliest thing Tuesday had ever seen. It was eight inches. 
. . maybe longer. And it had a certain obtuse beauty about it. The shaft was 
well formed, and it supported the head proudly. Bobo was not mature enough 
for his balls to swing, but they were clearly visible. Tuesday was thrilled. 

"I've felt yours," she said. "Do you want to feel mine?" 

Bobo licked his lips. He let his hand slide up the smooth inside of her 
thighs. Oh, how velvet soft it was! His whole being throbbed with desire and 
appreciation. What a wonderful creature a girl was! As his wandering fingers 
approached the junction of her legs, Tuesday instinctively allowed her knees 
to part, and this opened up her pussy and its mysterious hole. 

Bobo panted. His whole was fluttering as he neared her cunt. Down the exit 
tube of his dick, he felt a tiny droplet of cooze ease out and was flushed, 
back over the head of his cock by Tuesday's hand. She was stroking his 
prick, and he was certain that if she persisted, he would shoot off. But he 
was no longer embarrassed. He was enthralled; in fact, he was all but 
hypnotized by the wonder of her body. 

As he felt between her legs, letting his curious finger part the lips of her 
pouting pussy, he moved in as close to her as he could. Their bodies 
touched, and he could feel her tits against his chest. Oh, it was something 
else! Goddamn! Wait 'til he told the guys about this! But the hell with the 
story telling. He was on the verge of getting his dick dipped in the honey 
hole of a real cunt. 

"Tuesday," he croaked in her ear, "can we lay down?" 

"Lie down," she corrected his grammar. "What for? We can feel each other 
okay standing up, can't we?" 

"It's better lying down," he said. "Besides, this is making me as weak as 
water. I want to pull you up close to me." 

Tuesday was only human, and she wanted to feel Bobo as much as he wanted to 
feel her. "Okay," she said. "Let's get down, but I got to have something 
under me. I can't lie down in the dirt." 

Bobo used his pants and underwear for a blanket and they both lay down on 
it. 

Without a word, they turned to face each other. 

She reached around Bobo and pulled him up to her, and met his mouth with a 
searing, tongue-fucking kiss. He was unfamiliar with real kissing 
techniques, but he had overheard enough conversations in the pool room to 
know what to do. He shoved his tongue out to meet Tuesday's, and allowed his 
cock to replace his hand between her legs. 

Now that was more like it! The warmth of her thigh was sooo good! His cock 
throbbed and juiced. 

Tuesday knew what was "going on because she had been thoroughly accustomed 
to a juicing genital. Emilia's cunt had flowed like the river Jordan when 
they had been eating each other's pussies. She was not then surprised to 
feel Bobo's hot dampness on her body. 

She tiled to maneuver herself so that she would be able to straddle his leg 
and work her cunt against the muscles of his thigh. But he was not 
cooperative. In fact, he did not understand her maneuver. He kept pushing 
until his cock slopped up against her pussy hole, and when Tuesday felt that 
searing meat pressing on her cunt, she forgot all about trying to hunch his 
leg. 

Oooooh! His dick was hot! She worked her hips about and dragged her clit 
over the raw head of his drenched cock. Bobo gasped, and reached around to 
grab her by the cheeks of her ass. 

Tuesday had not intended to allow him to shove his cock inside her cunt, but 
when Bobo took hold of the bouncy cheeks of her ass, she responded by 
slipping a finger inside his asshole. 

Bobo was proud of the fact that when the guys were beating each other off 
and having cock measuring contests he had never allowed anybody to fool 
around with his asshole. Anybody, he believed, who would suffer a cock up 
his asshole was a fink and a pervert. But Tuesday's finger was a different 
ballgame. It was at first a searing pain as she forced her way past the 
puckering muscle of his shithole, but after she was inside, somehow, it felt 
good. Goddamn! He thought he would come and shit, in that order.. . or 
simultaneously, and he didn't care. She had transported him to new heights 
with her finger probing his asshole. 

Bobo used his hand to guide the head of his cock right in the mouth of her 
pussy, Oh, it was rough going! The ground they lay on was rocky, and they 
both picked up a number of bruises in the course of their action. But ft was 
so damn good! 

Tuesday felt his prick probing into her hole, and a fleeting thought of 
caution swept over her mind. She must not fuck! There might be a baby. God! 
It would be the very worst thing, and yet ... 

"Bobo, are you trying to stick it in me?" she asked, trying not to strangle 
on his tongue. 

"Yes! For God's sake, open your legs wider so I can get it in." 

"Do you love me?" she asked, all woman. 

And he was all man. "Of course I love you," he whispered almost savagely. 
"Do you think I would want to stick it in someone I didn't love?" 

That was all Tuesday needed to hear. She allowed her legs to flop open and 
her pussy, bearing only the faintest suggestion of hair, was there and ready 
to receive his cock. 

Bobo growled and raised himself up an his knees. He pointed his cock into 
her cunthole which she obligingly held open for him. 

Neither of them was prepared for what took place. Tuesday felt the 
constriction of her too-tight pussy as the lips gave way to his prick. The 
oversized meat went sliding through the ripped tissue and bloody passage of 
her cunt. 

Tuesday was crying out with pain, and trying to back her ass away and push 
Bobo off at the same time. 

He, too, experienced pain, but it was at once dismissed as the greater pull 
of his hot meat drove him onward. He had no trouble after the initial and 
painful thrust was accomplished. He went in all the way, and having touched 
bottom, he was not long in blasting his come right in the depths of her 
cunt. He started shooting off, and kept spilling the goo. Whew! His balls 
ached, and he wanted to get all the way up inside of her cunt. Tingles ran 
over his body as his prick quivered from the thrilling pain. 

Although painful, his cock had given her a new thrill, and aroused in her a 
new desire. She knew right then that she would never again be satisfied to 
have some girl lick around on her pussy. She would need manmeat, lots of it. 
Right there, as Bobo spewed his semen in her hole, she acquired a taste for 
cock which would be the undoing of her whole life. 

"Sounds like he did a pretty good job," Freda said. "I wish to God I could 
run into somebody like him right now. Hell, I'd love to have a stiff-cocked 
one more time." 

"Yeah, he wasn't bad," Tuesday agreed, smiling. "Not bad at all!" 

 Chapter Three 

Tuesday reached for a cigarette. "That Bobo was all right!" she said. "He 
did a lot for me. Took my cherry, and it wasn't long after that when he gave 
me my first insight into what assholes men really are." 

"Yeah?" Freda said with interest. "How was that" 

Bobo's cock made interesting diversion for several months. Tuesday overcame 
all her reluctance for the prick, and helped him arrange for all sorts of 
trysts so she could get her quota of cock. 

They fucked everywhere, and in every conceivable fashion. Within two weeks 
of the first time, Tuesday had so thoroughly-schooled Bobo that they were 
eating at the sixty nine club like veterans. Bobo had balked briefly when 
Tuesday wanted him to eat out her asshole, but he had finally overcome his 
inhibitions and done an acceptable job. 

As Bobo fucked, he also let his mouth run wild, and soon the word spread all 
over campus that Tuesday had one of the finest cunts. 

Tuesday talked too, praising the virtues and talents of Bobo's cock. It was 
natural, therefore, that others would become interested in the pair, but on 
an individual basis. Tuesday repulsed all other guys who sniffed around her. 
After all, them wasn't another cock as large nor another guy so handsome in 
the whole school. 

She saw him the next morning. 

"Where the hell were you yesterday?" she snapped. "I missed seeing you after 
school." 

"Busy," he answered. "Probably be busy today, too?' 

"I know what you been doing," she snarled. "Out fucking those common 
whores." 

Bob yawned. "So?" 

Tuesday was near tears. "So you're in love with me. You aren't supposed to 
be fucking around!" 

"Come off the horseshit and grow up," he sneered. And with that, he turned 
away, and left Tuesday to cry her own bitter tears. 

Tuesday vowed revenge. 

Highlight of the week in school was the Friday night football game. Tuesday 
went alone and unescorted. 

If the other girls could come over and fuck Bobo, then by God, she would 
just turn the tables and fuck another guy. Her cunt was as good as any on 
the senior campus, she certainly had acquired enough brashness to accost a 
guy and lure him into the bushes. I'll show him, she thought. I'll make the 
son of a bitch sorry he shit on me! 

The game was a piss-poor exhibition, or at least it seemed so to Tuesday. 
Part of the time she searched the crowd for a sight of Bobo and whatever 
girl might have claimed him for the night. The remainder of the time she 
looked around for a likely date. 

Bobo was nowhere to be seen, and all the guys she tried to attract, just 
weren't interested. 

So, when the game was over and everyone started for their after-parties or 
for parked loving, Tuesday was still alone. Purposely, she avoided seeing 
any of her girl friends. They had not been overly warm to her since the word 
had been spreading about her fucking with Bobo. 

Finally, Tuesday gave up and started on the eight-block trek back to her 
house. She had never felt so blue in her life. 

The headlights of a clanking hot-rod car picked her up as she walked. She 
was aware of its slowing down, but she did not lift her gaze from the 
sidewalk. God knows, after everything else that had happened, she was being 
damn careful not to step on any cracks. Jesus, that might end the world! 

"Hi there!" a voice called from the clattering and fuming car. "You need a 
ride?" 

Tuesday looked up through her tear-brimming eyes and saw a stripped down old 
Chevy with no top, no hood, mag wheels, and some shiny goodies on top of the 
engine. The guy driving was gunning the engine and making all sorts of smoke 
and noise as she counted five guys in the machine, all of whom had their 
feet hanging out except the driver. He was calling to her and offering a 
ride. 

"No, I don't think so," she said. "I just live a little way from here." 

"Aw, came on." The teen leaped out of the car. "Hey! What's the matter with 
you?" 

Tuesday sniffed. "Nothing. . not a thing," she said, trying to smile. "I 
guess I could use a ride. You got room for me in there?" 

"Heck yeah," the driver said. "Hey, guys, make room! We have just picked up 
a bird!" 

A sandy head appeared above the rim of the back seat. "Well, all right," he 
said. "All right. If we can't shoot a squirrel, then let's have a bird." The 
others laughed. 

There were no room, so she had to be boosted over the side. The sandy-haired 
one, lifted her under the thigh and took a quick look at her deliciously 
rounded ass. Tuesday had on bright red panties, and the teens lifting her 
got a sight of those britches and exchanged glances. The driver pursed his 
lips into a silent whistle. 

Soon Tuesday was in the front seat between two handsome high school guys. 
They had long, sweeping hair, and each of them had his shirt open almost to 
his navel. Tuesday could see just a trace of hair on the driver. It was a 
little patch, black as midnight, growing right between his tits. Tuesday 
liked it. 

"I'm Howard Clay," the driver said, "and these guys are Tony Cash, Andy 
Partner, Phil Upton and Bernie Jackson." 

"Hi! I'm Tuesday Noir." 

"Been to the ball game?" 

"Yes." 

"By yourself?" Andy asked from the backseat, poking his companions with his 
elbows. 

Tony, who was with her and Howard in the front seat, let his arm slide off 
the back of the seat, and rest lightly about her shoulders. "Ain't you got a 
boy friend?" 

"Sure.. I got a boy friend," Tuesday said defensively. "His name is Bobo 
Wilder." 

"Well, don't worry, you got a lot of boy friends now. Right, fellas?" 

They all shouted their agreement, and Tony pulled her a little bit tighter 
with his arm. She also noted that Howard had allowed his leg to rub against 
her thigh. 

"Hey, how about driving out somewhere for a coke or something?" Howard said. 
"It's early yet, and nobody's going home." 

"Yeah!" 

"Great idea!" 

"Let's go!" 

"I guess so," Tuesday said hesitantly. 

"What did you say your boy friend's name was?" Andy asked as they headed 
toward the outskirts of town. 

"Bobo Wilder." 

"Yea, that's what I thought." 

Bernie spoke up suddenly: "Ain't he that guy that's been screwing around 
with your chick, Howard?" 

"Shut up!" snapped Howard. "Don't pay any attention to him," he told 
Tuesday. "I'm just real glad, yeah, real glad I found you tonight. You know, 
you're a doll!" 

Tuesday flushed in the darkness. 

Howard eased Tony's arm from around her, and replaced it with his own. He 
pulled her to him, and made no pretense about what he was doing. As he drove 
with one hand, he let his other drop carelessly over her shoulder until his 
fingers were resting lightly on her lit. Tuesday didn't mind. Her tits were 
not big enough to quarrel over, and besides, it was so nice to have five 
guys when she had been entirely alone for the whole evening. 

Tony placed his left hand in the seat between them, and boldly worked his 
fingers along her bare leg. Tuesday gave him a quick look. 

Howard began to massage her titty lightly, and Tony moved from the outside 
of her leg to the top, and then moved his fingers into the softness of her 
inner thigh. 

Tuesday parted her legs just a trifle. Not enough to open her pussy to 
immediate invasion, but if he was going to have his hand in there, he had to 
have room enough to maneuver. 

Phil, Andy and Bernie knew that pussy was being stalked, and they were 
excited. The three craned their necks to watch the progress in the front 
seat as the car moved off the main highway onto a country road. 

Phil poked Andy in the ribs to get his attention. When Andy looked, Phil 
pulled his fly open and allowed a big, hard cock to get out in the air. 

Andy smiled, and guided Phil's hand to feel in his own crotch. There was 
another erection. Bernie, too intent on watching Tuesday in the front to 
notice his companions in the back, suddenly caught the odor of hot cocks. He 
saw that Phil and Andy had their dicks out and were slowly jerking them as 
they kept their eyes glued to Tony's hand sliding up under Tuesday's dress. 

Bernie was more imaginative. He eased his tool out of his trousers, and 
reached over and got Phil's free hand. He wrapped Phil's fingers about hi 
cock, and then Phil was jerking two of them... his own and Bernie's. 

Howard, who had a bursting hard-on, pulled the car off the road under the 
spreading antis of a great oak. It was dark. 

"Is this okay?" he whispered to Tuesday. 

For her answer, Tuesday turned toward Howard and kissed him long and 
searchingly. As she rotated toward Howard, her ass turned toward Tony. 

Tony flipped her short skirt up, exposing the cheeks of her ass. He could 
not see the smooth texture of her body, but Tony knew that her body was 
strong and firm, and that the cheeks of her ass were very appealing. 

Tuesday pushed up to Howard as closely as she could. He was absorbing her 
tongue, and feeding his back. Tony was working his fingers first inside the 
legs of her panties, and when that was too tight a fit, he simply pulled 
them down over her ass. Her ass was bare! 

Tony ran his hands eagerly over the smoothness of her backside, his index 
finger slithering up between the cheeks of her ass. Her asshole shuddered. 
Tony knew that Tuesday was hot. He rolled his body up next to her, and 
reaching around to clasp her, he rammed his dick between the cheeks of 
Tuesday's ass. 

Tuesday knew what was happening, and although she knew it was a sin to fuck, 
and certainly no nice girl would allow two utter strangers to maul her and 
probe her asshole with a hot cock, still . . . it was fun. And she felt so 
warm and wanted. It was just nice. Tony did not stick his cock in her 
asshole. He just let it lie along the crack of her ass as he hunched up and 
down. Tuesday, slobbering as her tongue licked Howard's face, tightened and 
loosened her ass to make it better for Tony. 

Howard was content with the soul kissing until he felt Tony's hand touch 
him. Tony had to take hold of Howard to pull up close to Tuesday. Howard 
opened his eyes, and saw what was going on, and decided immediately that he 
was getting the shit end of the stick. Goddamn! After all, he had picked the 
bird up. 

But Tony gave him a pleading, searching look, so Howard decided he would go 
along for a little while. He backed his hips away from Tuesday's close 
embrace long enough to get his dick out of his pants, and then he put his 
cock into Tony's hand. 

Tony smiled. He was glad to pull on Howard's cock so long as he could have 
priority in Tuesday's asshole. 

But Bernie, Phil and Andy were not content. They were about to go out of 
their minds. They had worked out a circle jerk where each of them was 
pumping the prick of another, But the rough male hand was not much good 
compared to the smoothness of a female ass, and they could not stand what 
was going on in plain sight. 

Phil, seated in the middle, worked his way forward to where he was able to 
force a hand between Howard and Tuesday. 

When Phil got his hand in the close confines of their bodies, he managed to 
get inside her dress, and was soon well down inside her dress. 

There was a great deal of hunching and rolling about in the front seat, and 
after Phil got his hand on her titties, he was not doing a very good job of 
healing Bernie's meat. The rhythm of stroking a pussy and jerking a cock are 
decidedly different, and Phil was certainly giving his primary attention to 
the tits. 

Andy was still beating Phil's dick in a smooth motion, and if Bernie felt 
neglected, well... that was tough shit! 

Bernie was jacking Andy perilously close to climax, and it was so damn good, 
he was just lying back and enjoying it. 

But when Bernie got upset about the front seat, he began to slack off on 
Andy's prick, and then Andy got upset, and quit beating Phil, and in the 
briefest of times, what had been a satisfactory circle jerk degenerated into 
a series of snorts, pokes, squirms, and finally a voice which gave vent to 
the frustration in the rear seat 

"Goddamn it!" Phil cried out. "This is for shit! Lot's get out of this damn 
car and get on the ground where we can all get at her." 

"Hell, this is okay," Tony said, trying to quiet the uprising and protect 
his privileged position. 

"Yeah, for you, you son of a bitch!" Andy said. "But we ain't getting 
anything." 

"Can't you guys wait?" Howard demanded as Tuesday pulled away from him. 
"Goddamn it, she can't take everybody at once. Tell 'em, honey, that you'll 
screw everybody, but they got to be patient, and I'm first." 

Screw everybody! Goddamn! Tuesday was shocked, she was not a whore. 

"I certainly will not!" 

That was as far as she got. As she started to refuse to fuck anybody, let 
alone the whole crowd, Tony grabbed her hand and forced it onto his cock, 
and then he dived straight down and fastened his eager mouth over her cunt. 
Before Tuesday could say anything else, Tony had slammed his tongue up her 
snatch, and had drawn the upper portion of her cunt between his lips. Her 
clitoris was captured, and before she could protest, as she knew she must, 
the great orgasmic wave began to swell and break over her, and Tuesday 
bumped her pussy up in Tony's face. 

".... . oooooh!" she gasped. "That's so good!" 

"Then you will let us all have some?" Howard pressed. 

Tony sucked. 

"Say yes!" Phil demanded. 

The tongue darted over, her pussy, and down between her legs. 

"Yes! Good God, yes!" Tuesday screamed. "Yes! Give it to me . . . but take 
it easy. I'm tight and I don't want to get hurt." 

They all tumbled out of the car. 

Miraculously, the guys produced a tarpaulin, and it was spread on the 
ground. 

Tuesday felt her dress being pulled over her head, and she was momentarily 
concerned that it might be torn. 

"Take it easy," she said. "I got to wear my clothes home, and they can't be 
messed up." 

They tossed her dress and underwear in the car where her panties were 
already swinging from the car-shift lever. She was naked, and suddenly she 
realized that the night was pretty damn cold to be lying around on the 
ground with no clothes on. 

 Chapter Four 

Tony felt that he had squatter's rights to her asshole since he had been 
there first. He also felt that he should have first shot at her pussy since 
he was the one who had eaten it and overcome her reluctance. 

But when they got her on the ground, each guy tried to dive in and get the 
best places. Her titties were not really that good, and it was pretty 
obvious that the last man would have to settle for the boobs. 

The confusion, however, was too much. Howard did not agree with Tony's 
conception of priority rights. It was his car and he had shot the squirrel. 
(They were by that time in tacit, unspoken agreement that she was no bird, 
She was at least a squirrel, and quite possibly a beaver, a beaver differing 
from a squirrel in the broadness and quality of its tail). 

There had to be some sort of organized effort, or the game would be lost. 
Tony was rooting in her snatch like a boar hog, and the others were all 
rolling about on the tarp trying to find some place to stick their cocks. 
Howard finally decided he had to bring some order to the group. 

"Hey, wait," he cried. "Goddamnit. Wait!" 

Nobody paid any attention to him. He seized Andy and Bernie by their 
shoulders and rolled them aver. He pushed Phil away with his foot. Tony was 
a tougher problem, because he was deep in the muff, lapping and sucking and 
whipping his own dick as he ate. He was not easily moved. However, Howard 
sank to his knees and rammed his own swollen cock as forcefully as he could 
right up Tony's asshole. 

"Jesus Christ!" Tony screamed, pulling his head out of Tuesday's crotch. 
"What the hell you doin'?" 

"All of you listen to me!" Howard commanded. "This is my beaver. We're out 
in my car, and by Christ, I'm gonna have some order. Listen to me! And we'll 
all get it! Don't listen, and we all go home!" 

The other four could have taken him, but Howard was much bigger than any 
one, and nobody wanted to be the first challenger. The probability of 
becoming a casualty was too great. They stood back and listened. 

"All right," he panted. "That's better. Now, honey, you roll up on your left 
side.. . that's right. Are you game for everything?" 

"Whatcha' mean everything!" she asked, shivering. "I'm cold." 

"You'll be warm enough in a minute," Howard promised. "I mean will you kiss 
me on the cock?" 

"Big deal," she said, bored. "I guess I will. Those high-school sluts are 
probably kissing Bobo all over." 

"You bet they are!" Andy said, and got a hard look from Howard. 

"All right. We're all going to get you at once, and if you cooperate, it 
will be the best ever in the whole world." 

"All? At once?" 

"Yeah," he said. "Here's how. I'm going to stick mine in your pussy. Tony 
will stick his up your asshole. You blow Bernie, and jack Andy and Phil with 
either hand. Nobody starts until we're in position." 

"Well fuck this," Andy said. "It ain't fair. Hell, you got a snatch. Tony's 
got an asshole and Bernie's getting a blow job. Goddamn, where the hell are 
we?" 

"Wait a minute," Howard said. "We are going to go three minutes like this, 
and then we change. That way everybody will get a piece of her ass, her 
cunt, her mouth." 

"That's great," Phil said. 

"Just one thing more," Howard warned. "If anybody comes, he's out. You can 
slow it down anytime you like, but if you come, just hang your cue in the 
rack and wait. Okay?" 

"I'm freezing," Tuesday complained. 

"Okay, get your clothes off, fellows," Howard said. 

They all got naked in a hurry, and no one had a hard-on. Tony was erected 
slightly, but his cock was so short and stubby that it was difficult to tell 
when he had a hard-on and when he didn't. The damn thing always stuck right 
straight out in front of him. When it was hard, it just stuck out a little 
farther. 

Howard had the largest cock of the crew. It was seven inches, and Tuesday 
thought it was a junior-sized fire hose when he placed it in her hand. Only 
half hard, it leaped up to full attention at her touch. 

Howard lay down facing Tuesday. As soon as she felt his body next to hers, 
she stopped shaking and reached out for him. 

Tony was ready to enter her asshole. 

Howard and Tuesday began to kiss. This brought forth a loud protest from 
Bernie. 

"Goddamnit!" he said. "Quit kissing her. It ain't right. You got her pussy, 
and I'm supposed to have her mouth." 

"Sorry Bernie," Howard said. "I guess I just got carried away." 

He concentrated on getting his cock into her dry and lightly closed pussy. 
There was not sufficient lubricating juice to make the penetration easy. But 
her mouth was wet, and Bernie was the first one to get a satisfactory 
arrangement going. As soon as his cock went inside her mouth, Tuesday began 
to lap about the head of his cock and send little thrills running over his 
nervous system. 

Phil seized her right hand and closed her fingers over his cock, and Andy 
did the same to her left. Tuesday had to blow one cock, jerk two dicks, and 
as soon as Howard and Tony got into her holes, she had to hunch in two 
different directions at once. It was a tough challenge. 

Howard quickly ascertained that her pussy was too dry to get into.., so he 
pulled away and stroked a generous supply of saliva from his mouth over the 
head of his prick. Then he spit in his fingers again, and doused the 
moisture up between the lips of her cunt. 

Tony took more direct action. He flung himself down, and parting the cheeks 
of her ass with his hands, licked her right in the tail hole, shoving his 
tongue up the puckered brownie. 

Howard placed his cock to the opening of her cunt. Her reaction to the 
tongue in her tail was helpful in getting Howard's throbbing cock into her 
snatch. It slid in with a minimum of friction, and was soon fucking her 
cunt. There was pain when Howard touched bottom, and Tuesday jerked backward 
just as Tony was poised at the entrance to her ass. 

Tony was surprised when her ass came roaring at him, but he was ready. He 
steadied his took, and pushed forward to meet her motion. The result was 
that his cock was buried in her bowel, and once inside, he found the heat 
was tremendous, and that there was a slushy quality about her asshole. 

Tuesday was the one torn between delight, fear and pain. She was also hard 
pressed to keep her cock-jacking in any sort of order. At first she tried to 
jerk the two cocks up and down simultaneously, but this was too hard and 
unnatural. Then she discovered that if she pumped them alternately, it was 
easier. But the entire operation gave her the distinct feeling of being 
called upon to run in five different directions at once, and it was tough to 
decide in which direction she felt the greatest compulsion. 

Perhaps it was better that the feeling alternated between her pussy and her 
asshole. Both of the cocks inside her cunt and ass were excellent. And the 
one in her mouth gave her great oral satisfaction. Bernie wanted a 
full-shafted suck; and he drove his cock down her throat with insistent 
force. Every time he probed into her throat, Tuesday would gag slightly, and 
this would be reflected in the spans which racked her body and made her two 
lower holes bite and milk on the cocks which they contained. 

But Bernie was so intent on getting deeper into her gullet, that he forgot 
the passion building within him. Suddenly, it was too late. He had gone too 
far. He could not stop. His balls were drawing up in that tight sac. He 
would come. It would mean that he would not get to experience the beat of 
her ass or cunt, but he didn't care. 

Bernie closed his eyes, and tightened his asshole. He reached out and got a 
handful of Tuesday's hair, rolled her head about roughly. His libido soared 
and finally it plunged over the precipice. 

"Here I go!" he screamed. He lunged forward, knocking Andy's dick out of her 
hand, and fucked his cock into the back of her throat. Tuesday felt the hot 
come blast into her mouth, and she attempted to swallow the sticky ooze 
before any of it was lost. But it was impossible to swallow when she was 
being choked, and her failure resulted in the loss of his jizm over her lips 
and down her chin. It ran in a hot stream all the way down between her tits 
before Bernie was through coming and had pulled his satisfied cock from her 
mouth. 

"Oh. .. that was goooood," he said. 

The others were in no mood to listen to him. Andy, who had lost the jerking 
hand, leaped quickly to take Bernie's place in Tuesday's mouth. She had 
opened her swollen and come-drenched lips to accommodate the new cock, but 
Howard called time. 

"Wait," he gasped. "It's time for us to change. I'll take the hand. Tony, 
you get the mouth. Andy, get the asshole, and Phil. .you can have her pussy. 

Tuesday was too confused, and too hot to care which way they did it. She was 
relieved to have only one cock to jack; it was tiresome work on two. Now, 
with a free hand, she, herself could probe up Phil's asshole as he worked on 
her cunt. 

Tony's cock, bigger around than she had grown accustomed to, seemed to have 
an unusual taste, acrid and a little bitter, and it was also slicker than 
any prick she had previously tasted. Then it came to her; she was tasting 
her own shit! Little bits of fecal matter had lodged on his tool as he 
swabbed her asshole, and then it was her privilege to clean it off with her 
tongue. 

But there was no time for moralizing or serious reflection. She was working 
with four hot cocks, and all of them were throbbing violently as they built 
to a coming heat. Tuesday was near climax. 

Tuesday began to hunch harder, and her jacking hand lost its rhythm. She 
flopped Howard's cock, jerking it too hard once and then not hard enough. He 
clasped his ringers over hers and tried to assist her in recapturing the 
stroke. But it was too late! 

Waves of orgasm swept over the prostrate girl, and as she came, the 
satisfaction was poured out and shared with everyone except Howard. She bit 
down gently just behind Tony's cock head, and sucked with all her might. He 
screamed, first in pain and then in ecstasy. As the fire seared his balls, 
Tony unloaded a massive bolt of sticky paste into her mouth, and since his 
prick was short, Tuesday was able to swallow it all without losing a single 
precious drop. 

Andy felt her asshole contract with almost as much biting power as Tony had 
felt in her mouth. He knew that he could not restrain himself from coming. 
So he closed his eyes and shortened his stroke to correspond with the 
rapid-tire hunching of her ass. As he came, Andy gave way to another urge. 
He released his pent-up asshole, and a long, tapered turd slithered out the 
opening and glided down his leg until it fell with a splatter beside him. 
Reacting swiftly, he maneuvered himself so he would not roll over on it. As 
he lay quietly ... quietly as he could, he marveled at having had the shit 
fucked out of him. 

Phil, meanwhile, was laboring mightily in her pussy. Tony extracted his cock 
from her mouth, but Andy kept his buried in her asshole even after he had 
come. 

Phil had better control than any of the others. He managed to force his mind 
to other things as he pumped his meat deep into her. Oh, it was good to him! 
When he saw that the others had came, he brought his mind to focus sharply 
on the activity at hand, and in only three feverish strokes, he started 
coming, firing his load deep into her cunt. 

Tuesday's pussy, snapping and pinching as it had been, bit down with a 
vengeance when she felt his load splash into her womb. As he was working out 
his last spurt, she came for the third time, and then they all fell apart, 
panting and exhausted. 

All, that is, except Howard. "Goddamn!" he cried out. "What about me?" 

Tuesday was fucked out, but her innate sense of fair play told her that 
Howard must not go away with less than the rest. "Come on," she said with a 
concerned tone. "I'll fix you up. How do you want it?" 

Howard paused. Finally he decided to take it in the asshole. "I never had a 
real bung job," he confessed. "Do you mind?" 

"No," Tuesday said. "I'd rather have it there. I can't get pregnant is my 
rear end." 

Howard mounted her backside. He carefully avoided the pile of shit which 
Andy had deposited on the tarp. It was a damn gross thing to do, Howard 
thought, and from then on, he would leave Andy at home. Shitting on his 
tarp! Ugh! 

Howard's cock was as hard as it could get without breaking out of the skin, 
and it was also yew hot. He had been under constant stimulation for over an 
hour. 

"I want to go in deep!" he said, puffing her ass up close to him. The soft 
cheeks of her ass against his body built his desire and robbed him of his 
cool reasoning power. Goddamn! He was in her asshole, and the thing was 
snapping and milking his cock. 

Jesus, it was not going to be long.., no, by Christ, he was going to shoot 
off right now! 

As he felt the come mounting, he drew his cock back for a horrendous plunge 
to the bottom. But he pulled back too far and the swollen head of his cock 
popped out of her asshole. By the time he realized the circumstances, he was 
already lunging forward, and the head of his tool buried itself in the crack 
of her ass, and the come roared out and drenched her externally. Her asshole 
was searching for his cock. 

But, however far he fell short of the ultimate, Howard had come! And his 
scalp crawled with the goodness of the sensation. 

As he spent his load, he released Tuesday, and she fell exhausted on the 
tarp. Though she had been somewhat forewarned by her sense of smell, she did 
not know there was a huge turd lying near, and she rolled over on it, 
smearing herself with shit from the waist down. Her buttocks were covered, 
and when she saw what had happened, she fell into uncontrollable sobbing. 

Fucking Bobo for love was one thing, but gang-banging a five some of crude, 
shit-spewing clods was another. 

Her conscience overwhelmed her. 

 Chapter Five 

Chewing gum vigorously, Freda waved a nail file through the air, and 
swallowed hard. "Goddamn, after getting that sort of five-way screwing, it's 
a wonder you ever had good sense anymore." 

Tuesday smiled. "Oh well, it wasn't so bad . . . After all, it gives a girl 
a kind of offbeat sense of distinction to have taken on a whole bunch of 'em 
at once." 

"Yeah," Freda said, resuming her manicure. "I've been in on a few gang-bangs 
myself, but I only took 'em on one at a time." 

"Afterward, I was sick as hell. They really didn't hurt me... not 
physically. But, shit, my conscience was killing me. You know, up until 
then, I had let that old lezzie gnaw on me, and I gave old Bobo pussy 
because I thought we were in love. But deep down inside of me, I still felt 
like fucking was wrong." 

"You must have tried to kill yourself.. . jump in a lake or something." 

"Naw, I didn't jump in a lake," Tuesday said. "After that, I was a long time 
feeling right. But everything I tried fucked up." 

"Like what?" 

"Well, I went to see the principal of our school. 

You know the glasses-on-the-nose type of asshole? 

I thought he was the kind of man who would help a girl in trouble." 

Phineas Whitley was an educator, and if you happened to be assigned to his 
school. 

Whitley was a curiously unattractive man from a physical standpoint. He was 
skinny and stooped and balding. He wore pince nez glasses perched on his too 
prominent nose, and his long, angular arms hung out of his too short 
sleeves. His trousers were never pressed, and there was clear evidence of 
his breakfast, or perhaps yesterday's lunch always present on his shirt 
front. He was particularly distinguished by his exceedingly long and dirty 
fingernails. 

Mr. Whitley's detractors said he was a dirty, sodden incompetent son of a 
bitch who wasn't fit to shovel shit out of a pigpen with a decent pig 
watching. His defenders, anxious to let their own college degrees shine, 
said the man was traveling an esthetic plane far removed from the 
understanding of mere taxpayer. 

Girls held him in awe because of his tender reading of such poetic giants as 
Robert Service. The guys said he was as queer as a three-dollar bill, and 
nobody in his right mind would take a piss with old Phineas in the head. He 
would peer over those gooney glasses and try to steal a peek at any prick he 
could find dangling over a urinal. He was not known to have lapped up on any 
specific dick, but the graffiti in the washrooms proclaimed without 
reservation or apology that "Whitley sucks!" 

Tuesday's mother, however, was above such knowledge. Sucking, to her, was 
something a babe might do at its mother's breast. She had never considered 
the possibility of taking a rigid cock down her own throat. 

"Listen, Tuesday," she always said. "Mr. Whitley is a gentleman ... gentle 
but strong. . . a man of God. Thanks be to God that he is there leading you. 
I know he isn't much to look at, but he is a man of great heart." 

As the days lengthened into weeks after her encounter with Howard and his 
gang, gradually Tuesday came to consider the possibility that she might 
discuss her problem with Mr. Whitley. 

But how to confess? Family, friends, and the pastor of her church were 
eliminated. None of them could understand. They would, she knew, judge 
rather than guide and direct. 

Finally, after many sleepless nights while she battled with an almost 
overpowering desire to stroke the fuzzy surface of her cunt to arouse once 
again that precious feeling, she decided that she would take up her problem 
with Mr. Whitley. Gentle soul, patron of poets, lover, artists, 
psychologist, leader of people. 

Seeing Mr. Whitley was no trouble. His office door was, he said, always open 
to any troubled student. 

"Ah, yes, Tuesday," Mr. Whitley said, picking his nose delicately with his 
little finger, and then carefully examining the product of his effort before 
flicking it accurately into the wastebasket "What can I do to help you?" He 
coughed a glop of mucus from his sinus and spit loudly into a piece of paper 
which he balled up and tossed, again with surprising accuracy, into the 
trash can. 

"Mr. Whitley, you're gonna think I'm awful," she began..." 

"Tut, tut!" he said, his myopic eyes wandering up her bare thighs and 
stealing a covert glance at the brief expanse of panties which he glimpsed 
as she crossed her legs. "I'm sure you have done nothing of any serious 
nature." 

"But I have," she said, "and I'm just sick over it. I can't even sleep at 
night!" 

He coughed and spat again into a piece of paper. Whatever he had managed to 
hawk up that time was of considerable interest as he held it sideways to get 
a better light on it, and thereby exposed it to Tuesday. She averted her 
eyes and felt a tightening in her throat. God, she prayed, don't let me be 
sick! 

"Well, why don't you tell me about it?" he asked, after he had again hit the 
waste basket. 

"I've done the very worst thing you can think of," she said, " .. .and, a. . 
. well, I did it with a guy!" 

"Yes sir. You know I uh . . well I let some guys... uh... well you know!" 

He was seized by such a violent fit of coughing that his glasses fell off 
his nose, and when he finally brought up the offending matter, he rose from 
his seat and spat loudly and directly into the trash. "No," she asked, "I'm 
not certain I do know. Tell me more." 

"We got naked," she said boldly, "and they did it to me." 

"THEY?" 

"Well, there were five of them the last time." 

His eyebrows ran back over his head. "The last time? How about the first 
time?" 

"Then it was only one... Bobo!" 

"Bobo Wilder?" The eyes rose again. Goddamnit, he thought, here she's had 
the Wilder cock, and I've been trailing him into the john for two years 
trying just to catch a glimpse of his dick. Damn! "Uh, did Bobo hurt you 
much?" 

"Yes sir! He broke my heart. That's how I got up with the other five." 

"No... no! I don't mean did he hurt your feelings. I mean, did he hurt you 
when.. . uh. . .when he did it to you?" 

"Hurt some, but once he got it in, oh, I tell you it was good!" 

Whitley's droopy dick began to assert itself in his pants. He had at one 
time or another, probably sucked twenty dicks in his career as a teacher and 
principal, but he had never fucked one of the girls. 

Girls didn't do too much for him, but this one might and her ass was the 
right shape, and she turned him on just talking about that luscious Bobo 
Wilder! Whew! God, he was getting carried away. 

"Come around here, Tuesday, and let me talk to you closer." 

Obediently, Tuesday uncrossed her legs, again showing him a flash of white 
nylon crotch and rose to move around to the executive side of his desk. She 
leaned her buttocks against the desk within easy reach of his hands which 
Whitley was having problems keeping controlled in his lap. As she neared 
him, she noted that on the left side of his nose there grew a monstrous 
mole, out of which grew two bristly hairs. Tuesday was fascinated. 

He pushed his cock down in his lap. 

"Hummmm! Let me see now. You have had...uh...well...intercourse with Bobo 
Wilder and then later with... how many? Five other guys?" 

"That's right. The five were all at once, too." 

"How could that be?" 

She explained to him in detail the way Howard, Andy, Bernie, Tony and Phil 
had fucked her. 

Whitley became excited, and his hands trembled in his lap. His cock was 
hard, and his throat was dry as desert dust. When she reached the part of 
her story where the guys changed positions, Whitley advanced a tentative 
hand that slid up her left leg until his fingers disappeared under her 
miniskirt. 

Tuesday noticed, of course, but since it Was Mr. Whitley, she did not make 
any objection. She thought he was merely trying to put her at ease. 

However, when his hand reached the bottom of her panties, and he began to 
insert his finger in the elastic, Tuesday shifted about uncomfortably. 

"Here, Tuesday," he said, reaching for her with his free hand. "Come and sit 
on my lap while we talk. Heaven knows, you have had a terrible experience." 

The sympathetic words had a magic effect on Tuesday. He did understand. In 
gratitude, she not only flung herself in his lap, but she wrapped her arms 
about his neck, and buried her embarrassed face in the hollow of his 
shoulder. What's more, she sat firmly on his fully erected cock, and caused 
sweat to break out on his face. 

"I just knew you would understand," she said. 

"Of course," he murmured, allowing his hand again to reach up and probe 
under the tight leg opening of her panties. "I wonder if you would be good 
enough to remove your panties? I would like to look to see if there has been 
any damage done to your private parts." 

"Oh, no, there hasn't been." 

"Perhaps not," he insisted smoothly, "but I would like to see to make sure. 
You don't want to take a chance of being disfigured or ruined for life." 

Tuesday stood up and pulled her panties off. She placed them on his desk. 
How beautiful her flesh was. . . rose-colored in the right places. She held 
her skirt up around her waist so that he could see her delicate thighs, and 
the furred area of her cunt. On the backside, where her legs swept upward 
and flared into her rosy and firm buttocks, Whitley traced the outline of 
her ass with a cupped hand. 

"Get back up on the desk," he said hornily. "Sit upon it this time. I want 
to. . .uh. . .well, I must check the inside of your vagina." 

"Okay," she agreed. "It was pretty sore for a long time, but it's all right 
now. I haven't played with it or anything since that last time. I'm trying 
to be a good girl." 

"I know you are," he said, fastening his lecherous old eyes on the red slash 
of her pussy. "Just lie back there on the desk," he ordered, shoving all his 
papers onto the floor. 

"Now, spread your legs apart. That's it... Oooooh!" 

"What's the matter?" she asked anxiously. 

"Nothing! Noting!" he said. "It's just fine." He pushed the pouting lips of 
her pussy apart and looked up into the gash as far as he could. She felt the 
sharpness of his fingernails against her tender cuntlips and flinched 
slightly. 

"Tuesday," he said. "Before I give you a clean bill of health, I must check 
the inside of your vagina. There is only one way to be certain you are not 
permanently impaired. I must go into it just as the others have, but in this 
case, purely as an experiment to assist you to feel good again. We have to 
know the conditions inside." 

She was horrified at the prospect, and yet, her cunt was in need. Tuesday, 
nevertheless, acquiesced quickly. "Yes, sir, Mr. Whitley. I'm willing for 
you to do anything if you can just tell me I'm all right, and can be a nice 
girl again." 

He stood up, and she could plainly see the imprint of his cock. Golly, he 
did have a big one, but it was probably not much longer than Hobo's, and no 
bigger around than Tony's. And best of all, he was not going to stick his 
prick in her in a sinful way. He was just going to check her out. 

"Pull my zipper down," he ordered as he allowed his glasses to fall off, and 
suspend themselves on the ribbon about his neck. He stood up close to the 
desk so that Tuesday could reach his fly without raising up. 

She jerked his zipper to the bottom, and fished inside to bring out his 
cock. It was tangled up in the old-fashioned, one-piece underwear which he 
wore. As Tuesday continued her effort to remove his cock, a rank and 
offensive odor struck her nostrils. It was the smell of unwashed and sweaty 
flesh. 

She knew without being told that Whitley's balls were sweaty, and that he 
had not bathed his crotch area in perhaps weeks. Nevertheless, she 
persisted, fighting down her revulsion for his unclean body. 

Finally, as he backed his ass away and caused his dick to free itself from 
the folds of his piss-stained underwear, Tuesday was able to pull his cock 
out into the light. God Almighty! What a horrible piece of meat it was! Not 
only did it exude a highly offensive odor, but it had a dangling, pendulous 
foreskin the likes of which Tuesday had never seen before. 

As soon as she saw how indescribably ugly his cock was, she dropped it from 
her hand, and without thinking, wiped the palm off on her dress. 

The motion was not lost on Whitley, but he didn't take offense. He was not 
concerned at what she thought. All he wanted was to ram his rusty old cock 
into her fresh pussy and to feel the hot meat of her cunt bite down on it. 
He was not a great cunt lover; he preferred the throb of a cock in his 
mouth, but when he was aroused, he could fuck any hole. 

"Now, Tuesday," he said. "Will you guide it into your vagina?" 

She spread her legs, opening her pussy as wide as it would go. He walked 
into the opening, and Tuesday grabbed his horrible old cock again, and tried 
to skin it back and forth to loosen it up. Then she discovered that the 
foreskin was grown over the head, and that it would not skin back. More 
disconcerting was the fact that his cock was dry, and her pussy was not 
producing cooze oil. 

Tuesday decided to do her best under the circumstances. She parted her pussy 
lips then, and guided the head of his cock into the mouth of the opening 
with her other hand. As soon as Whitley felt his cock in the hole, he seized 
the desk and began to push. He wiggled and she twisted, and they both shoved 
as hard as they could, but the damn cock was too big and too dry to go in. 

"Maybe if you would suck me some, it would get wet and go in," Tuesday 
suggested. 

"Please," he gasped, backing away horrified. "I wouldn't dream of doing such 
a thing. It's a crime against nature to put one's mouth on a vagina. We must 
think of something else." 

Tuesday could not think of anything else, so she remained silent. 

Then Whitley, whose cock had dropped to about half-mast, clapped his hand on 
the desk. "If we can't get into your pussy," he said, "there is one other 
way." 

"What?" 

"Let me get Bobo Wilder here in the office." He depressed a key on his 
communications box, and told the girl in the outer office to send for Bobo. 

While they waited for Bobo to arrive, Whitley suggested that Tuesday stroke 
his dick and balls until he was once again fully erected. 

There was a knock on the door. Whitley sat down in his chair, hiding his 
nasty old, cheese-laden cock. He motioned for Tuesday to remain on the desk 
with her cunt bared. "Who is it?" he demanded. 

"Bobo Wilder." 

"Come in," Whitley ordered. "And close the door." 

To say that Bobo was surprised when he saw Tuesday bare-assed on the desk 
would be the understatement of the century. He was struck dumb. 

Mr. Whitley, inspirational leader that he was, moved to put the guy at ease. 

"Come over here, Bobo," he said. "You know Tuesday Noir, I believe?" 

Bobo nodded silently, as he fixed his gaze at Tuesday's exposed pussy. He 
was a little afraid, but since he had not had any pussy or even beat his 
meat for nearly a week, he had to be interested in what he saw from a sexual 
standpoint. No matter how unusual or bizarre the circumstances, a 
monster-cocked, guy has got to be intrigued by a bare pussy. 

"Tuesday tells me that you have had intercourse with her." 

Bobo looked at Whitley blinking, and then for some reason, he was nodding 
his head truthfully. 

"Well then, you know that she has been badly disturbed by it all, and she 
has come to me for reassurance. I am trying to ascertain if her physical 
well being has been disturbed. There is only one way I can be sure. I want 
you to get your clothes off, and probe into her vagina for me with your 
prick." 

Bobo was scared. Goddamn, people don't fuck in a school principal's office! 
He stood immobile. Then he noted that Whitley was sitting in a peculiar 
position, and in a flash it came to him that the old son of a bitch had his 
own cock out. This revelation was further borne out in Bobo's mind by the 
smell which permeated the room. Tuesday's cunt did not smell. It had to be 
Whitley's cock. 

What the hell was the old bastard up to? Well, it really didn't matter. Bobo 
knew he had to do what he was told. If he didn't, God knows what Whitley 
would do about his fucking Tuesday. Expel him? Send him to a reform school? 
Tell Tuesday's mother? 

Bobo began to get his clothes off.. When he was naked from the waist down, 
Whitley motioned for him to come to the side of the desk where his cock 
would be clearly visible. Tuesday lay back down on the desk. 

Bobo's cock was a beautiful thing compared to the gnarled old stink pole 
concealed in Whitley's lap. Bobo's legs were firm and well muscled, and his 
balls were symmetrical. Whitley licked his lips in appreciation of a fine 
cock. But it was not hard. 

In fact, Tuesday began to wonder. She had never seen Bobo's dick soft. 
Golly, it had a certain helpless quality about it which made her pussy juice 
at the sight. No! No! She must not let herself be aroused. Bobo had caused 
her enough trouble. 

"Will you please get your tool erected?" Whitley was saying to Bobo. "You 
cannot probe her vagina with it dangling there as it is!" 

Bobo reached for his cock and began to flop it about. He was not turned on 
by the situation, but he thought he might be if Tuesday would play with him 
until he got a hard-on. Wordlessly, he placed his prick in her hand, and she 
began to jerk it as she had on so many previous occasions. She had not 
pulled his cock more than a dozen times before Bobo was as hard as he was 
likely to get. A small droplet of oil had appeared at the eye of his cock. 

Bobo was hot and had almost forgotten about Mr. Whitley. His eyes gazed as 
he looked at Tuesday's open pussy. God, how good the thing looked. Oh, he 
would be glad to probe her snatch! 

Bobo walked between Tuesday's legs, guiding his prick into the mouth of her 
snatch. With a deft shove, he slammed his cock to its full depth. 

Tuesday gasped, and reached out with her hands to take him about the body. 
She also tried to lock her feet behind his back, but Whitley prevented her 
from doing so. He wanted her to allow her legs to dangle as Bobo fucked her. 

And fuck her he did! He poured the meat into her hole, and the two of them 
were in great passion when Whitley leaped into the act. He stood up, and 
jerked oh his cock until he extracted a wad of pre-coital jizm from the 
mouth. 

As Bobo was busy pumping the prick into Tuesday, he was suddenly 
disconcerted when he felt a hot cock ramming into his asshole. 

Goddamnit! Nobody had ever put a dick in Bobo Wilder! 

"Wait a fucking minute," he said, turning his head, but keeping his cock in 
Tuesday. "Whatcha doing, you old fart?" 

"You mind what you're doing," Whitley said fiercely. "And keep the cheeks of 
your ass relaxed." 

Bobo hesitated, and then went on fucking Tuesday. 

It was difficult going. Bobo was thrashing about fucking wildly, and what's 
more his asshole was slammed tightly shut. But Whitley was resourceful. He 
was, of course, opposed in principle to the licking or lapping of a pussy, 
but he had no such qualms about tonguing a male asshole. But, when he found 
the entrance to Bob's tailpipe bared, without hesitation he fell to his 
knees. He forced the cheeks of the guy's ass apart, and he shoved his 
mole-bearing nose up there and licked the brown hole with great vigor. 

Bobo was only human. With his cock in a cunt and a tongue on his asshole, he 
was getting hotter. The more wildly he fucked, the greater became Tuesday's 
passion, and as Whitley licked Bobo's asshole, he was beating his meat with 
maniacal fury. Jesus, wouldn't the school board shit? 

When Bobo got ready to come he slammed his cock to the right, then to the 
left, and then with a great ball-bearing plunge, he drove it all the way 
home down the middle, and exploded his load as he hit bottom. Tuesday 
reached climax at the same moment, and as they locked in coming embrace, 
Whitley was forced out of Bobo's ass, but he did not slacken the pace of his 
own masturbation. He was about to come too, and he didn't want to miss it. 
But he did want to enhance it. 

He dropped his cock for a moment and pulled an amazed Bobo off Tuesday. By 
the sheer surprise of his attack he was able to bend the teen backward over 
the desk. Bobo's come-spewing cock was flopping about, and Whitley caught it 
in his mouth and sucked with his full strength as he resumed his cock 
flopping under the desk. Bobo's cock was so sensitive after coming inside 
Tuesday that he had been ready to scream, when Whitley shot his smelly old 
load on the floor, releasing Bobo's cock from his mouth as quickly as he had 
taken it. 

God, what a scene it was in the office! Come all over everything. The desk 
was soaked with pussy drippings, and the three of them were embarrassed. 

Tuesday was beside herself. How could old 

Whitley be such an asshole? Oh, she could kill him. He was sitting stupidly 
in his chair with his cock draining on his pants, looking at Bobo's 
declining cock as the teen put his clothes on again. 

"I guess I better get back to class," Bobo said lamely, and all but ran out 
the door. 

"You seem to be all right, Tuesday," Whitley said, stuffing his prick into 
his soiled underwear. "Uh, just go ahead, and forget all about the things 
which have happened, particularly today. It was just an experiment which 
turned out well. You are all right!" 

"You're a dirty old man!" she said, getting her panties on again. "I know 
you. You're a queer and a son of a bitch! I'll tell my mother!" 

"Do that," he said sneering. "And I'll send you and Bobo both to the 
training school. Best you forget it all, and go ahead. You'll be fucking the 
rest of your life anyhow, so why worry about it?" 

 Chapter Six 

"Can you feature that old bastard telling me that, after what he had done?" 
Tuesday asked Freda. "He was probably the guy who started my craziness. 

"Well, it could be worse," Freda said philosophically. "Hell, you're 
eating." 

"That's right," Tuesday said, gingerly feeling the bites in her cunt area. 

"I'm eating just about anybody who comes along, and they're eating me... 
literally. Jesus, I wish I was young again and could just fuck. When you get 
old, people think you got no feeling, no pride. Hell, I don't like being the 
trick artist in a whore house. I get all the fucked-up perverts who want to 
hurt me some way to get their kicks. I don't mind fucking, and okay, I'll 
suck too. But this taking door knobs and having some guy want to put his big 
toe up my asshole. Goddamn, there's just no end to the kooks." 

"What about the guy I sent you last night?" 

"Yeah," Tuesday said, raising up. "Now, there's what I'm talking about. This 
silly bastard wants to get under the covers and have me fart so he could 
smell it. That's how he gets his." 

Freda laughed and rolled on the bed. "Goddamn, that's funny. How in the name 
of God do you fart on cue?" 

Tuesday smiled ruefully. "You'd be surprised what you can do when you get 
the price up to a hundred. I got right over his face and strained like hell. 
I figured it would be a little fart if it came at all, and I wanted him to 
smell a hundred dollars worth if I made it." 

"Did you make it?" 

"Well I strained like hell and couldn't fart to save my life." 

"Aw, that's too bad!" 

"I did manage to shit in his face!" 

Freda looked to see if Tuesday was serious. When it was obvious the truth 
was being told, Freda howled in wild laughter again. "Did he pay off?" 

"Hell yeah! He only thought he wanted somebody to fart under the coven. When 
that turd hit him right between the eyes, his cock leaped up and I'll swear 
to you, he shot come up past my tits. Now, he'll never ask anybody else to 
fart under the covers. He'll pay a hundred to have you shit in his face. 
It's easier, believe me, but I'll be damned if it ain't a hell of a feeling 
to know the only affection you can create is with your asshole." 

"Oh, you're just feeling bad tonight," Freda said. "It'll look brighter in 
the morning. You know, I never realized you were so bitter about this kind 
of business. Why the hell didn't you marry some guy and settle down on the 
straight side?" 

"Shit, I tried that. After old Whitley got through with me, I kept my pants 
on pretty well. . . oh, I'd fuck now and then when I needed it, but not like 
most of the other girls. Hell, I was a damn virgin compared to all the rest 
in high school. But I always wanted to fuck after Bobo put that thing in me 
the first time. So, when I was nineteen, and just out of high school, I 
decided the best thing I could do was marry the first decent guy that asked 
me. His name was Lance Norris." 

Lance Norris was not handsome; he was pretty in a clean, wholesome sort of 
way. He had flashing blue eyes and a curly shock of blond curls. 

Lance had clawed his way up out of south Georgia, and when Tuesday met him, 
he was collecting an insurance debit in Norfolk, Virginia. 

She first noticed him at a Saturday night dance. He was some kind of good 
looking. And it was Tuesday who maneuvered to meet him. Tuesday was crafty 
enough to lure him along without allowing him to make any passes. He kept 
his hands doff her tits and didn't try to sneak up her dress to make manual 
contact with her pussy. 

Lance was a hard worker, dedicated to his job. This virtue of accepting 
work, plus his rigid adherence to the stern Baptist code, doomed him to 
marriage just as quickly as Tuesday could maneuver him into asking her. 

It took about six weeks, and she hesitated just ten seconds before she gave 
him a resounding "Yes" and sealed the bargain with a soul kiss which scared 
the living shit out of him. 

Tuesday hoped she had not been too brazen. But Lance smiled his brightest; 
and encircled her waist with a protective arm. God, it was certainly nice to 
be in love. 

Love and marriage, however, are generally mutually exclusive, and Tuesday 
began to get the little shocks on their first honeymoon night. 

Tuesday could hardly wait to see him naked. She was curious about the size 
and talent of his cock. She was ready, but hardly ready for Lance's abrupt 
change when the door swung shut. 

"I want you to undress me," he said, but there was brittle hardness in his 
voice. "I'd like for you to tear my clothes to shreds!" His voice was rising 
and his eyes glinting. "Rip 'em off! Let me hear 'em tear!" 

Tuesday tried to laugh, but the sound died in her throat. Hell, the guy was 
definitely not kidding. He wanted his clothes torn off. So, okay! Everybody 
has his own kick. 

Tuesday grabbed his shirt and jerked downward as hard as she could. The 
buttons snapped off, and she was pleased to feel the cloth rip. 

Lance laughed, delightedly, and Tuesday saw a trace of cock rising inside 
his pants. 

She seized his pants after unzipping the fly, and jerked as hard as she 
could but it was tough to tear them. Lance, however, squirmed about and let 
them fall about his ankles. 

"Hurry," he commanded. "Tear off my shorts!" Tuesday managed to rip away the 
clothes with one sweep, and there was his cock! Jesus, she almost fainted 
and then she thought she might throw up. It was a massive hunk of manmeat, 
maybe a sturdy eight inches. It was also considerably heavier in 
circumference. than the prick. It had been circumcised, and the bulbous head 
was manifestly larger than the shaft. But these were normal characteristics 
of any human cock. Beyond that, Lance was horribly mutilated. 

Running from the base of the shaft and out to the back of the head was a 
livid, purple scar at least a quarter of an inch wide. There were several 
deep incisive scars about the shaft, and the head was battered out of its 
smooth shape and it looked like a cauliflower ear. There was scar tissue 
growing over the head, and the whole thing was swollen so much out of 
proportion that at first glance, Tuesday was afraid there was no hole in the 
end. 

Lance's balls were the swinging kind, and the sac was a purple-black as 
though it had sustained serious bruises. His left ball was swollen to at 
least twice the size of an ordinary testicle, and the right one looked 
atrophied. It was no larger than a good-sized pea. On his lower stomach and 
upper thighs, as well as on his cock, there were a number of fresh scratches 
and Tuesday felt certain some of the wounds had been cause by teeth. 

"Great God!" she exclaimed. "What's the matter with it?" 

"Nothing, It's just fine. Now, come on and get down on it. I want to see 
some blood! Listen," he said, grabbing her by the hair, "get down on my cock 
and eat it. I said eat it! Don't suck it! I hate to have my cock sucked. I 
want you to bite it. Goddamn, hurry, make it bleed!" 

"Jesus Christ, Lance, if I were to bite into a cock as hard as yours, you'd 
bleed to death." 

"Aaaahh!" he said. "You do know something about sucking cocks. Don't bite 
into the shaft or very deep into the head. Pull some of the loose skin up in 
your mouth and bite that. Scrape your teeth over the head. That will make it 
bleed. Bleed! Do you hear me? God! Get down on my cock and make it bleed!" 

He was almost screaming as he pushed her toward his crotch and fell back on 
the bed. 

Tuesday would have been delighted to give him a trip around the world. Lance 
was a magnificent man. Only his battered cock was less than perfect. She was 
thoroughly frightened by what he had said. 

"Hurry and bite it," he said, shivering and twitching in expectation. "I'm 
so hot, and I can't really get myself worked up until I see the blood! 
Oooooh! That's it! Bite my cock. Oh, Jesus, bite it! Bite it off! Go ahead. 
. . oh, look at the blood. Look at the blood! It's beautiful... BEAUTIFUL!" 

Tuesday was aware of the bitter taste in her mouth, and she knew it was 
blood from his dick. She had chewed a piece out of the shaft, and even 
though she had always been a come-swallower, never spitting out the precious 
semen juice when it washed into her mouth, she was reluctant to swallow the 
blood. Lance saved her from making any sacrifice in this direction. 

"Now, now!" he screamed. "Lick the blood over my balls. That's the way. Wash 
my balls in blood. Oh, Jesus, this is good! Rake your teeth over the head. 
We gotta have more blood! More blood! Blood out of the head is hotter, than 
blood out of the stem. Oh! OH! OOOOH! Goddamn. Great!" 

Tuesday was not turned on at all. She had been excited about his body, and 
she had managed to work up a little juice inside her pussy, but the 
dick-biting and blood-letting doused her sexual fire. 

Lance was going into convulsions on the bed. He bucked and jumped, and 
cried, and real tears flowed down his cheeks as his cock jumped and throbbed 
in Tuesday's mouth. She tried not to suck it, but it was hard not to. Lance 
did not seem to notice her lapses. All he did was call for more blood. 

"Okay! Okay! Now get ready 'cause I'm fixing to come," he shouted. "Hey, 
hang a fingernail in my asshole. Hurry! Hurry! Now, ram it in my asshole, 
and when I scream and start to come, jerk the edge of your fingernail hard 
down on the mouth of my ass. I want it to bleed! Hear me! It ain't any good 
coming if your asshole don't bleed too!" 

Automatically, as though she were a zombie, Tuesday rammed her finger up 
Lance's asshole. He went out of his mind. He screamed a long, piercing wail, 
and jerked about so violently that Tuesday cut a couple of new bleeding 
gashes on his cock. And she knew he was about to blow his rocks. His prick 
was so hard, and thumping with every beat of his excited heart. 

"Okay!" he yelled.. "Tear my asshole out! Tear it now!" 

Tuesday jerked her sharp fingernail against the side of his rectum, and she 
felt the spurt of hot blood squirt out over her hand and wrist. Then, mixed 
in with the blood drooling from his dick, Tuesday tasted the unmistakable 
salt of his come. In this respect, at least, he was like everyone else. He 
did shoot off, and it did taste okay. Tuesday swallowed the come, blood and 
all, and she was immediately sorry and afraid. 

"You swallowed it!" he roared. "Goddamn it, don't you ever do that again! 
You lick that stuff up my asshole. That's what come is for. I always get my 
come up my asshole. It keeps me looking young. Goddamn you bitch! Wasting my 
come down your miserable throat!" 

Long through the night, Tuesday lay awake and cried silent, bitter tears 
while Lance slept beautifully. He was such a pretty sight lying there in his 
blond innocence. Goddamn! The miserable perverted son of a bitch! Tuesday 
cursed her luck. 

Try as she might, it seemed the whole world was stacked against her when she 
wanted to make a decent life for herself. Now, mated to Lance was like being 
caged with a wild animal. Well, she would try it for a while, but in her 
heart, Tuesday knew that Lance was a loser, and would sooner or later have 
to go. 

All the men in the world.., nice, ordinary guys with swinging pricks who 
would appreciate a wife who would fuck with enthusiasm, and she got Lance! 
Ugh! It was sickening, and there was nobody she could talk to. She had not 
been much for confiding in anyone since her episode in the principal's 
office. Now, more than ever before, Tuesday felt alone, and she cried! 

 Chapter Seven 

Freda's eyes were bugged out as she listened to Tuesday. "God! I never heard 
tell of any man that crazy. 

"Oh, he was something," Tuesday said sadly. "I guess I would have killed 
myself in the first month if it hadn't been for our neighbors. Or at least 
the guy who lived next door. His wife was a tight-pussied tease who gave him 
the hot nuts all the time, and ten wouldn't give up any pussy. Hell, I saw 
this the day we moved in the apartment, and I guess he knew that I 
understood his situation. I kinda felt like he might be the solution to at 
least a part of my problems." 

"I bet you were real frustrated." 

"I really needed to get some regular dick. Of course, now, if I never saw 
another hard dripping cock, it would be too soon. But then.. well, I was 
young and had a hot cunt, and I had married to make fucking legal. Then I 
had to turn around and go about as illegal as you can get. I was fucking 
this neighbor, Rick Ainsley, right in his own house." 

"What's wrong with that?" 

"Oh, noting, I don't guess. But I was kinda brought up to think folks ought 
not to shit in their own nest, and he was dropping a turd in his about every 
day, and three or four times on Sunday. His wife got more bitchy all the 
time. She didn't know we were fucking, but she did soon find out that he was 
not subject to teasing, and this, of course, pissed her off somewhat. But 
Rick was really the best guy I ever knew. 

Bick Ainsley was a big man. Not a towering height, though he did measure a 
full six feet. But his massive body was a study in bull strength. Although 
thirty-five, he was beginning, to show a slight thickness about the middle, 
but there was still the grace of an athlete in his movements. 

Bick's arms were massive, and his short stubby fingers gave a decided 
impression of strength. He cut his hair short, and while he was by no means 
good looking in the sense that Lance could claim, he exuded an animalistic 
maleness which most women, except for his wife, found captivating. 

Tuesday was attracted to him because of her desperate need, and the 
recognition that he, too, had made a bad bargain at the altar. They began 
with casual conversation in the yard, and after a couple of days, had become 
friends to the extent that he came to her place for a cup of coffee and she 
went to his, for a drink before dinner. She had chewed Lance's cock into a 
bloody mess two days before and he was still unable to go again. 

In fact, Tuesday had scared herself when she saw the massive bleeding. Lance 
loved it, and after he came, he would not stop the flow. For a time, it 
appeared that he would have to see a doctor, and he would have, except he 
could not think of any lie which would explain the condition of his cock, 
and he was reluctant to tell the truth. Eventually, his cock had sealed 
itself, but he was out of commission indefinitely. 

Lance was out after some of his delinquent insurance premiums, and Rick's 
wife, Amy, had gone away for an evening of bridge. It was natural that the 
two left at home would get together, and in less than two drinks, they were 
frankly telling each other the extent and depth of their troubles. 

Bick looked Tuesday squarely in the eye. "Listen," he said. "I'm a 
square-shooting guy, but I've had it with Amy. No jury in the world would 
convict me if I strangled her, if I could tell what I've been through. And 
you. . shit, you could shoot that lousy rat and probably get a medal." 

"Maybe," Tuesday admitted, "but neither one of 'em is worth all that. Maybe 
we can help each other." 

His licked his lips, and reached to take her hand. "Tuesday, you're a good 
scout," he said a little thickly. "I'd like to make love to you. . . right 
here . . . tonight." 

There was a rough tenderness in his voice which deeply affected Tuesday. 
"Yes, yes, I think I would like that, Rick," she answered. "But do we dare?" 

"I do!" he said fiercely. "Come on, let's go in the bedroom. There's no use 
for us to be miserable always." 

When they got into the bedroom, Bick took Tuesday in his arms. He was so 
powerful and strong that he could have crushed her, but he held her tenderly 
and pulled her close to his firm body. 

Then, as she allowed her head to tilt back, he kissed her. It was a hungry, 
searching kiss, flaming with need and desire. They held their lips together 
for a long time, and then Bick eased his tongue out to flick caressingly 
over her mouth. 

Tuesday responded by pressing in hard with her hips, forcing her pubic area 
to mash against his cock. His prick was hard and standing, and she was 
thrilled to feel it lying against his stomach. As they continued the 
kissing, they began to rub and hunch slightly in the pussy-to-prick 
relationship they had established through their clothes. 

Bick broke off the kiss, and held her tightly. He moved his fingers to the 
catch on her skirt, and in a matter of minutes, it had dropped to the floor 
and she had stepped out of it. The rest of her clothes followed quickly. 

When she was naked, he again pulled her into his embrace, and allowed his 
hands to wander up and down her back, smoothing downward until he scooted up 
and over her buttocks. Tuesday was firm and well constructed. She was soft, 
yes, but in a molded sort of way. Rick made little cooing noises as he 
stroked her ass, and she twisted about, pushing her tithes against him. 

Gently but firmly, Bick forced her away from him. She sat on the edge of the 
bed. 

He sat down on a hassock, and began to remove his shoes. Tuesday felt tears 
spring into her eyes. Here was the first man who had ever been really good 
to her, and at once, she loved him. She jumped to her feet, and walking 
toward him, she took his head and crushed it between her titties. 

He dropped his shoe, and swept his arms about her buttocks, and pulled her 
tight. 

They held the pose for perhaps thirty seconds, and then Tuesday stepped 
back. "Hurry," she whispered. "I want you so very much!" 

"And I want you," he said. 

When Bick was finally divested of all his clothes, Tuesday thought she had 
never seen such a striking man. He was heavily framed, and the muscles 
rippled over his body like power cords. And his most striking, single 
attribute was the cock which leaped out of his patch of pubic hair like a 
missile on a launching pad. 

Bick's cock was what a woman would expect on a real man. It was eight inches 
long, and as big around as the base of a Coke bottle. He had a fine foreskin 
which skinned back automatically as soon as he got an erection. 

At that time, he had a skin-splitting hard-on which ached and hurt as he 
looked at Tuesday's supple body. 

They came together again, and he gently eased her down to the bed. His right 
leg went between hers, and the hard muscle of his thigh was forced against 
her juicing pussy. 

Tuesday was so hot, so totally consumed by desire for this man that she felt 
slightly dizzy. It was an overpowering feeling. His leg against her snatch 
soothed her wounded spirit. He was kissing her again with great passion, and 
she wriggled against his leg, driving shafts of ecstasy into her cunt. 

Rick lowered his head, and sought refuge in her tits. Her tits were swollen 
and the nipples stood out. The wide circle of brown which framed her pink 
nipples was in sharp contrast to the whiteness of her breasts. Truly, 
Tuesday's titties were lovely. 

As Bick took her left breast into her eager mouth, Tuesday felt a- gush of 
hot oil slime out of her cunt. Oh, how she hated to waste the precious 
juice! But she knew Bick would make her juice more and more. 

He was probing in her ass crack with insistent fingers. He knew the value of 
an asshole in love. He knew that inside the rectum of an aroused female 
there lies a nest of sensitive nerves. 

As his mouth sucked and toyed with her tits, Rick gently inserted his middle 
finger into her asshole. Tuesday almost died in sheer rapture. The man knew 
what he was doing. 

Though they were to fuck countless times before the end of their affair, 
Tuesday never became accustomed to the delicious thrill which Rick would 
wrest from her asshole by simply inserting his finger into her shithole and 
rotating it. 

She was gasping for breath, and trying to get a hand around his cock. Ah, 
she got it! And it was the biggest prick she had ever touched as far as its 
girth was concerned. 

Goddamn! He thought of how sweet that meat would be, rammed up her cunt, and 
she hoped that it would eventually go into her tail hole as well. But it 
never did. Rick kept his cock for her pussy. 

He let his mouth slide down her stomach and kissed her full in the navel. 
Certainly, no one had made her pussy ooze by fingering her navel. But Brick 
again was an expert. He sank his tongue into her navel, and she gasped for 
breath, for as his tongue went down, his finger diddled deep in her asshole. 

"Oh, Bick," she cried. "Let me have it! I really want your cock. Please, 
don't make me wait another second!" 

"If you're ready," he said, "I'll put it in. God knows, I wouldn't tease 
you. When the time comes, we must always go together, pussy to prick, and 
try to come together." 

"Ooooh! Wonderful! Wonderful!" She was thrashing about, waving her arms 
spastically as he sank his cockmeat into her gash. Of course, Tuesday's 
pussy was stretched to accommodate the big-shafted cock, and there was a 
certain amount of pain with the insertion. But Tuesday did not mind. His big 
prick rubbed so nicely on her clitoris, and it was almost too good to stand. 

Once Rick was in to his full depth, he pulled out about two inches, and 
worked the deep stroke like that for perhaps a minute. He could see that 
Tuesday was ready to come. 

"Go ahead and come when you feel like it;" he said, kissing her 
passionately. "Don't ever hold back. Get it on the upswing when it's the 
very best." 

Tuesday wrapped her legs about his back and locked her feet. Thus, her cunt 
was held up off the bed, and his activity in her asshole was made easier and 
more productive. Orgasm was imminent for them both, and he began to pull his 
cock further and further back and the length of his stroke was at maximum 
when they blew off together. 

When he began to feel Tuesday's pussy biting on his cock, Rick knew that she 
was coming. 

Jesus, she had never had such an orgasm. 

When it was over, Rick lay lightly on top of her, supporting himself on his 
elbows and his knees; he let his cock soak, and every once in a while he 
would wiggle it slightly. Then, as his cock began to decline, he lifted 
himself off her, and withdrew his meat. Quickly, he produced a towel and 
shoved it between her legs. 

"That'll keep it from running out on the bed," he said. "You wouldn't want 
to sleep in a wet spot." 

"But, fuck," she laughed. "I'm not sleeping here. I live next door, 
remember?" 

His face fell. "Yeah. I remember. I wish I could forget!" 

In spite of having to bite Lance's cock almost every day, Tuesday was 
happier than she had ever been before. And as love will always find a way, 
hate is a fairly skillful improviser. 

Tuesday found that the best way to keep Lance's cock out of her mouth was to 
cut it up so much he was forced to take a rest. He was no fool; he knew what 
she was doing. 

Once in a burst of optimism, Tuesday asked Lance why he didn't just get a 
rusty old knife and slice his own cock. 

"Big fucking deal," he sneered. "I guess you would like to have a brown 
handle to work up your snatch in place of that creep next door with his 
cock!" 

Stung, she opened her mouth to make an angry retort, but decided it wasn't 
worth it. 

Bick's capacity for lovemaking was seemingly limitless, and their 
opportunities were almost the same. Lance was not a problem as long as he 
got his cock chewed. Amy was staying away from home more and mare, always 
playing cards pr giving her time to civic affairs. 

As the relationship between Rick and Tuesday deepened and ripened, there was 
no further demand made on Amy. At first she had been amused, believing that 
he was exercising a tremendous amount of self-control. Later, however, Amy 
had to confess to herself that the son of a bitch must be getting a lot of 
pussy somewhere else. Huh, probably that Tuesday hussy from next door. 

Well, she didn't care. But if she ever caught them, she would, by God, go 
right over and fuck that darling Lance to death. She laughed as she thought 
of how jealous and mad Rick would be at that. 

And so, it went on for nearly a year. Tuesday kept hoping Rick would say 
something about a divorce and suggest that she get one too. But he didn't. 
And in a way, Tuesday was relieved. She was really afraid of Lance. God 
knows what he might do. 

One night, while she was chewing cock and the blood was washing out of her 
mouth and dripping down on his balls, Tuesday pulled her lips off his prick, 
and said: 

"What would you do, if I divorced you?" 

He drew his hand back and struck her a ringing blow just above the ear with 
the heel of his palm. It sent her reeling across the room and she bounced 
off the wall. Quickly, he was on top of her, and he stunned her with a 
series of vicious cuffs about the head. Then, he drew back his foot and 
kicked her squarely in the cunt. She screamed in pain and fainted. 

When she came around, the room was dark, and she knew that Lance had gone 
out. Painfully, she dragged herself to the bathroom and was appalled at the 
horrible bruises which appeared on her face. God! How she hated that mongrel 
son of a bitch! 

After checking to make certain Amy's car was gone, she went next door and 
unfolded her horrible story to Rick. His jaw tightened, and his eyes 
narrowed. 

"Listen," he said. "You can't go back there tonight. Here, take my car and 
go down to a motel. Go to the Whispering Pines Court. A guy I know runs it. 
Get some ice and put it on your face. I'll come down later." 

"Oh, Rick, go with me now!" 

"No, you go ahead," he said. "I'll come along later. I've. . . Oh.. . got a 
couple of things to look after." 

When she had gone, Bick took up a vigil at his front window; He wanted to be 
certain he would catch Lance when he came home. 

About eleven o'clock, Lance sauntered into the yard. He had been out walking 
off his anger. Goddamn. Just as he was getting hot, the cunt started talking 
that shit about divorce. She must be crazy. Why in God's name would any 
woman want to divorce a man as pretty as he was? 

No sooner was he in the house, than Rick knocked on the door. 

"Hi," Bick said pleasantly. "Looks like we're by ourselves. Why don't we 
have a drink?" 

"Sure," Lance said. "Come on in." 

They sipped a couple of vodka martinis and made small talk, and then Bick 
decided to play his trump card. "Hey, listen; You're a doll of a guy. You 
know I been looking at you for months. I just can't take it any more. I got 
to suck your cock. How about it?" 

Lance smiled to himself. Well, he got 'em all. Women and men. They all 
wanted some of him. "If you'll suck it like I say." 

Bick licked his lips eagerly. "Man, if you'll let me have it, I'll do 
anything you want. Anything." 

"Don't suck it," Lance said. "Bite it. Bite it 'til it bleeds." 

"Yeah! That sounds great!" Bick said. "Get naked." 

Lance was happy. Tuesday had fouled him up, and here was her lover-queer as 
a seven-dollar bill-slobbering to get his mouth on his bruised prick. 

Lance figured a guy as strong as Rick would do a hell of a job. He wouldn't 
be chicken shit. He would bite the damn thing. 

By the time Lance was naked, his cock was as hard as it had ever been, and 
there was a droplet of jizm spilling out the end. He was ready to be chewed 
on. 

Five minutes later, the neighborhood was shocked by a loud, piercing scream 
which rang out from Lance's apartment; followed by the violent slamming of a 
door. Neighbors who peered out to see the source of the disturbance, saw 
Rick walking swiftly down the front walk, and running toward the Whispering 
Pines. 

Tuesday heard his knock, and rushed breathlessly to the door. Oh, she needed 
him so much. When she opened the door, she recoiled in horror. Bick was 
drenched in blood from the neck of his shirt to the waist, and there was 
blood on his face as well. 

"God, Bick, what's happened to you? My God. Come in! I'll call a doctor or 
an ambulance!" 

"Never mind," he said wearily. "It's not my blood. It's Lance's 

"Lance's? How . . . what. . ." 

"He'll never bother you again. I just bit his cock off right at the base. It 
was hard and he'll bleed to death before anybody can help him. Your troubles 
are over." 

"But you know," Tuesday said to Freda, a little misty, "they snatched Bick 
up and tried him for murder, and it was all so bad and embarrassing that he 
killed himself in his jail cell. So, I was a widow.. . more for Bick than 
Lance, but after it was all aver, Freda, I was out on my ass and broke as a. 
convict. What the hell could I do? I didn't know how to make a living. The 
only thing I had to sell was pussy. But I didn't want to be a whore. So I 
tried like hell, I really did!" 

Chapter Eight 

"God, you really had some bad breaks," Freda told Tuesday, shaking her head. 
"After all that, what did you do?" 

After Lance was buried (his dick was carefully wrapped and placed in the 
inside of his coat when they laid him out), and he was sent off, Tuesday 
surveyed the situation, and concluded that marriage was out forever. 

No more Lances, and she would not allow herself to love anybody else. Losing 
Rick had been a near mortal blow to her. But she faced the immediate 
necessity of eating. 

All told, when it was over, she found less than two dollars in her 
pocketbook. Eating being the acute problem that it was, Tuesday naturally 
sought employment where there was food. 

"You a dancer?" the manager of the Flaming Poon asked suspiciously. "Where 
you been dancing before?" 

"Well, I haven't danced professionally," Tuesday confessed, "but I'm good at 
it. Hell, give me a chance, and if I don't cut it, I mean right off, fire me 
and you don't owe me anything. Just feed me while I try it." 

"That sounds okay," he said, "but for a topless go-go gal, you sure ain't 
holding any heavy tits. Our customers like big-tittied girls." 

"They like those freaks with bazooms down to their navels because that's all 
they get," Tuesday argued boldly. "My tits aren't so big, but by God, 
they're firm. Hell, some of these pigs you got pictures of out front, would 
have bugs crawl out from under their boobs if they could lift 'em up. Mine 
stand straight out. Your customers will like 'em. Just give it a try." 

"Okay," he agreed, "but if you don't wow 'em tonight don't come back 
tomorrow." 

"I'll wow 'em," she promised. 

And she did. Goddamn! The silly bastards, pitiful shit heads trying to 
escape their dumb-dumb wives, went right up the wall as soon as they saw 
Tuesday's body. They whistled and stomped, and demanded to see more of her. 

Ha! Maybe, she was a good dancer. Maybe she could go to Hollywood or New 
York. Hell, guys were the same everywhere. If they went ape shit in one 
place, they'd be the same elsewhere. 

"Okay, okay," the manager said after closing. "You ain't done bad. So we 
hire you on for say seventy a week and your meals." 

"Seventy a week?" she complained. "That won't keep a roof over my head. 
Hell, man, I got to make more than that!" 

"So make a million," he said. "Goddamn! What we pay you is just to keep you 
from working for nothing while you're here. If a girl in this joint can't 
make three, four hunnert a week, she just ain't trying." 

"How can I?" 

"Don't be a fucking dumb-dumb!" he snapped. "If these guys will pay to see 
you switch around, hell, they'll pay to see you later. Jesus Christ! You 
ought to know that a guy who'll pay to see a clumsy ox like you stagger 
around with those boobs will sure as shit lay out a bundle to take you home 
with him." 

"Clumsy ox?" 

"Goddamn, there ain't one of you that can dance a fuckin' lick! Thank God 
the johns are so stupid! But you can switch your ass around in private, and 
make all the dough you want. What I'm doing, I ought to charge you to be 
here. Hell, I'm settin' you up in business, and you ain't got to invest a 
dime. Now, how can you beat that?" 

Tuesday would have blown her stack on two counts, but the mention of three 
to four hundred dollars a week had a calming influence on her. She resented 
the hell out of his calling her an "ox" and she was trying not to be a 
whore, but, well shit, that much money... 

"All right," she said, "we'll see, but let me have twenty-five to keep me 
going 'til the flood gates open and all the big money starts rolling in." 

He pulled two tens and a five off a greasy roll which he kept in his pocket. 
"You've fucked up tonight. You never sat with the customers when you wasn't 
dancing. And you been standing here jawing at me. Tomorrow, get out there 
and be sociable. You'll see how the money floods in." 

Tuesday's reception the following night was even more enthusiastic than it 
had been the first night, but she did not mingle with the crowd. As soon as 
her set ended, she beat it to hell into the kitchen, and waited 'til the 
next time. 

She still had most of the twenty-five left, and she was not yet certain 
whether she wanted to sell anything besides her dancing. In fact, her 
uncertainty prevailed for nearly ten days, and it had a tremendous effect on 
her popularity. All the regulars had tried her and failed to get even a 
conversation. 

The word was spread. She was young, with a great body, and by God, she was 
untouchable. The smart cunt hounds swarmed around, each one certain he could 
put the make on Tuesday, and each certain that she was nothing more than a 
sheeney cunt, trying to be a smart ass. Really, she was a star attraction, 
but she still got only seventy a week. 

So, when the bus boy brought her a note into the kitchen, which was wrapped 
around half of a hundred-dollar bill, she decided it was time to emerge from 
hiding. 

Manny McDowell sent the note back, and he held the other half of the C note. 
"Come out and get the rest of the bill," the note said. "In fact, come out 
and get a handful of papers with Ben Franklin's picture. I dare you!" 

Manny could afford to pay. He was a second-generation wonder, a corporate 
executive who lacked the business judgment to buy a decent roll of toilet 
paper, but who had a title, an office, a solid hundred-thousand-a-year 
income, no responsibility, and a bitchy wife who had let the moss grow over 
her cunt. 

Manny, not much in the office, considered himself to be a terror in bed. 
Most of his playmates agreed with him. They all liked those pictures of Ben 
Franklin which he threw around. 

Tuesday found that she liked old Ben too, and sent Manny a note back telling 
him to meet her outside. If she fucked him, nobody would know it but her. 
She wasn't letting all the idiots in on the deal. He would spread it around, 
but it would only be his word, and all men lie about the pussy they get. 

If she could convince two or three well-heeled guys that she was letting 
them have it exclusively, she'd be in the chips, and not have to fuck 
everybody in town. 

Manny was practically slobbering when they got into the car. "Damn," he 
said. "I been there every night, and I thought you were never gonna be 
sociable!" 

"You didn't say the magic word until tonight," she replied. 

"What magic word?" 

"Ben Franklin." 

He laughed. "Hell, I didn't know he was a magician. But I'm glad he is. Uh, 
whatcha say we drive out to this cabin I got? There's booze and food there, 
and nobody will bother us." 

"You got the pictures," she said. "I just follow old Ben around I guess." 

Again he laughed. Manny wasn't holding a great bucket full of smarts, but he 
was a harmless sort of rich fuck-up. At least, he was smart enough to make 
his money and stay out of the way of people who made it for him. 

After a ride of about twenty minutes, they came upon his cabin. Hell, it was 
more like a barn. At least it was big, and it sure as hell did sit in a 
remote corner of nowhere. 

"What's this for, hunting?" Tuesday asked as they got out of the car. 

"Yeah, you might say so," Manny said. "I use it to hunt and fuck." 

"What do you hunt?" 

"Something to fuck," he replied, and laughed again. Tuesday was beginning to 
like Manny. He was fun. 

Once inside the house, Tuesday saw that it was richly furnished and 
decorated in excellent taste. It was certainly no hunting cabin. It was a 
love nest, sort of a deep-carpeted cunt cage. 

"Oh, this is nice..." she said, with admiration in her voice. 

"Go on in that bedroom and get your clothes off," he said matter-of-factly. 
"I'll be in right away, and we'll see just how many Ben Franklin pictures 
you want!" 

The bedroom was at least twenty by twenty, and there was a huge oval bed. 
There were also monogrammed satin sheets on the bed. 

She stripped herself naked and fell on the sheets. Goddamn, that silky 
finish was enough to make a girl come. As a matter of fact, Tuesday was at 
once hot as a pistol. She had not had any cock in weeks and she had been too 
upset even to diddle her cunt. Now, with a good-looking guy on the prowl, 
and all those pictures of old Ben... Jesus, her pussy was zinging even 
before Manny got into the room. 

When he arrived, he was as naked as she, and Tuesday was pleased to see his 
firm, deeply tanned body. 

His stomach was flat as a manhole cover, and his legs well molded and 
strong. Then she fixed her eyes on his cock. Holy Jumping Jesus! she 
thought. I've got another one! 

Manny was well, if not sensationally, hung. His cock had to fight its way 
out of a massive tangle of pubic undergrowth. Once his prick rose, Manny had 
a nice-looking cock. But he was not content with his hard-on. He had affixed 
the most evil-looking tickler to it! 

Tuesday, in all her experience, had not been fucked by a tickler, and she 
had never even seen one up close before. But Manny apparently knew all about 
the little devices. 

His tool was about semi-hard, and he pulled it up, pointing it right at 
Tuesday. "Look at it," he said. "Look at that Frenchy! Goddamn. I tell you 
it's something else. Think you can take it okay?" 

Tuesday's cunt was oozing at the sight of Manny's body, and she was not 
disconcerted by the device. It was just that she was wary of all men who had 
peculiar inclinations about fucking. 

The tickler concealed the head of Manny's cock. There were dozens of little 
wart-like bumps around the circumference of it. Besides the warts, there 
were two long yellow feathers rearing out the end, and the whole thing was 
covered in some sort of white-looking slime. Tuesday wondered if he had 
jacked off and smeared the come over the tickler to lubricate it. 

"Yes, I can take it," she said. "But why use it?" "It'll make you climb the 
wall," he said. "And the more you carry on and get yours, the more it turns 
me on... and I might add, the more pictures I can give you for your book . . 
your pocketbook!" 

Tuesday shrugged. "It's your party. How do you want it?" 

By then his cock was upright and rigid. "I'll lie on my back," he said, 
crawling on the bed, "and you sit down on my dick. No. No! Face away from 
me. I know you think it ought to be the other way, but this is the way to 
screw with the tickler. I'm going to put it in some places inside you that 
you haven't even heard about." 

Tuesday wiggled herself on top of his outstretched frame, and awkwardly 
reaching down between her legs, found his cock, and raised it up to where 
she could insert it into the lips of her cunt. Whatever he had smeared over 
it was as slick as hot owl shit. 

Tuesday dropped his prick and heard it splatter with a wet floppiness 
against his belly. Then, she recaptured his prick and worked it into the hot 
mouth of her pussy. Feeling the heat of his legs against the backs of her 
thighs had set Tuesday's innards to churning. 

God, how long it had been! The touch of hot male meat always made her soar 
into orbit. 

He was no romantic. There was no bullshit manner in his approach. But as she 
eased his tickler-equipped cock into her cunt, she felt his muscles tighten 
under her ass, and she knew that he was going to put forth the effort when 
his cock was seated. 

As soon as the head of his cock cleared the snapping portion, of her cunt, 
he lunged upward with her hips and buried the heavy cock deep in her cunt. 
Deep? Tuesday had never dreamed a cock could go in as far and not split 
something. The tickler gave him an extra two inches, and whatever portion of 
her inner cunt it struck was the touchstone of her passion. 

"Oh Jesus! Sweet Jesus!" she moaned. "Whew, put that thing to me! God, it's 
good!" 

"I told you," he said, grasping her by the hips, and guiding the motion of 
her ass. "Now you quit trying to do the thinking. Just let my hands guide 
you. You don't want to bury my cock in the full depth and leave it. That 
rough head I'm wearing will work over every bit of your pussy." 

"Okay... all right.., anything you say," Tuesday agreed, trying to 
coordinate the working of her hips with the pressure of his hands. 

She had to admit to herself that Manny put out a pretty fair fuck. He bumped 
himself up as he drew her down on his cock, and his cock was rubbing the 
inside of her snatch with the tickler in a stroke about four inches long. 

Tuesday was going out of her mind. It was like having a terrible itch which 
was beyond scratching. She worked her ass around in every conceivable 
fashion. She wanted to make certain all of her cunt got the benefit of the 
sheathed cock Manny was pouring in. 

Soon, she noted that Manny was not guiding her as he had started out to do. 
He was hunching and panting for breath, but he kept only one hand resting 
lightly on her hip. The other hand... Jesus Christ! He had positioned his 
left hand right under her backside, and his finger had shot up her ass crack 
and deep into her rectum. Ooooh! And it wasn't just his finger! Manny had 
some sort of tickler on his hand and had worked the damn thing straight into 
her bowels. 

Now there was a feeling! Tuesday had experienced some anal stimulation in 
her time, and she had liked what she felt. But she had not fully appreciated 
the sensitivity of her asshole until Manny got up there with whatever it was 
he had on his finger. 

At first, she had opened her mouth to scream a protest, but after the 
initial horror had worn off, Tuesday was pinching her asscheeks together as 
tightly as she could on the downstroke so that she could feel the roughness 
of what he was doing against all of her inner rectum. 

She closed her eyes. Hell, when Howard and his friends had taken her five 
holes at once, she had had both holes filled. But then, she had had to be 
concerned with sucking a dick and jerking two more. Besides, a slick, boyish 
dick and a rough-hewn tickler on the fingers of a master fuck artist were 
grey horses of different colors. 

Manny was an artist, a matter of his craft, and if he didn't know shit from 
Shinola about running a business, he truly had achieved the ultimate in 
fucking skill. 

Tuesday was helplessly impaled on his cock, and she fought back a strong 
urge to scream and to laugh and to cry all at once. There was also a 
steadily rising urge to shit. The hand up her asshole was pulling at her 
fecal deposits, but she was unconcerned. A sophisticate like Manny would not 
panic, no matter what happened, and she was hoping she would not shit. 

She did not. But she did come, It was sudden and unusual. 

Most of the time, Tuesday would know a few seconds before that her orgasm 
was at hand; she would have time to gasp in a good breath and to grind her 
teeth together and tighten her pussy and asshole. But this time, right in 
the middle of an upstroke, her come hit her. 

She faltered on the way up. Her body tensed and then relaxed, and she was 
not in control of herself. Her whole being was shaken by a paralyzing 
shudder, and then a swift chill swept over her. 

Manny kept his finger up her asshole, but he tightened his grip on her right 
hip. 

Good God, she thought she might die! 

Tuesday wanted to scream. Manny was pouring the prick into her cunt, and 
massaging the inside of her tail hole with a great passion. She kept coming, 
and he pumped harder, and when she had been reduced to an almost senseless 
mass of whirling ass and twisting body, she was jerked back to the reality 
of the situation when she knew he was coming. 

The tickler prevented the hot soup of his balls from spilling into her cunt, 
but she could feel the great swell and throb of his cock, and hear the 
gasping, grunting effort he was making to get his breath. 

He had almost fucked the life out of her, but he had paid a hell of a price. 
He was as shaken as she, and there was no way either of them could conceal 
from the other what they had been through. 

The tremors of orgasm were still running through them both then, when, 
without warning, Manny shoved her forward and pulled his cock out of her 
snatch and his finger out of her asshole. She fell to the left and was 
surprised at his sudden violent movement. But he was not done. In fact, his 
cock was jumping in its rigidity, and he crawled with it in his hand to 
point it right in her face. 

"Get the tickler off, quick!" he said. 

Tuesday reached out to take it, but he pulled his prick away. 

"Not with your hand," he hissed. "Eat the goddamn thing off, and then suck!" 

Meekly, Tuesday obeyed. She had to force her mouth wide open to take his 
shielded tool into her oral cavity. But she made it. She gagged and retched 
a couple of times because the feathers were down her throat, but she finally 
managed to hook her teeth behind the wart-covered head, and then she began 
to suck. It was tough going, but once she cleared the puckering elastic 
which fitted behind the head of his cock, the tickler slid off easily and 
she spit it on the satin sheets. 

His tool was covered with come, and still drooling as she sucked it deep 
into her mouth. Manny did not want to be chewed on. He wanted his cock to be 
sucked! As Tuesday worked her mouth over the slimy surface of his cock, he 
wrenched his body about. He spread her legs with his hands, dived deep into 
her muff. Well, she just about did shit! 

The fucking with the tickler had given her new and extraordinary sensations. 
But it had left unsatisfied the old and time-worn needs of a normal cunt. 
But Manny's tongue, darting in and out of her snatch hole, probing over her 
swollen clitoris, was giving her that relaxing satisfaction which she knew 
would soon elevate her to another orgasm. 

As she sucked on Manny's cock, she jostled his balls in her hand, and this 
seemed to make him hotter. At least, he jumped and hunched harder. Tuesday 
was pleased. 

Tuesday had not considered Manny's age, but then she figured he must be in 
his late twenties. Certainly a time when his potency should be at its 
height. But there were damn few men, she figured, who would be able to come 
twice on the same hard-on. Especially if they had been thoroughly fucked on 
the first go-round as Manny had. But as she sucked on his cock, she felt it 
grow harder and harder, and she knew that he would indeed spill his sperm 
again. 

There were gobbling, slopping noises as they ate each other. With their 
mouths full of cunt and cock, there was no opportunity for, or need for, 
conversation. 

Although she had to work at sucking his cock, she was able to relax and 
enjoy the feeling which was building in her cunt. It spread like fire 
through her crotch area, and galloped along her taut nerves until the yew 
top of her head tingled. 

I'm going to come again! 

No sooner had this run through her mind when she felt the last surging heat 
boil up in her loins. She could feel the lust building, and as she suffered 
the first onslaught of orgasm, she clamped her legs together, trapping 
Manny's head. 

He struggled to free himself so that he could keep his motion going, but she 
had him trapped, and all he could do was lick and gobble her cunt. It was 
enough. Tuesday could not have endured anything more. 

Meanwhile, she had pushed her head back and removed his dick from the back 
of her mouth. She knew he was nearly ready, and she rolled the head of his 
tool about with his tongue while she fastened her lips tightly on the glans. 
This would extract the maximum from his prick, but she had to make him come 
quickly. Her lips would soon tire if she sucked as hard as she was. 

Ah, but her timing had been great. She felt the hot slop gooing out of his 
cock and running down her throat. She did not spill a singe drop of it. She 
drank his jizm with the relish of a thirsty traveler at a desert oasis. 

Chapter Nine 

Freda was tired, but she was still intrigued by the stow of Tuesday's life, 

"This Manny cat sounds like he might have been the very guy a girl would 
like to meet. Hell, he ought to have been able to show you some new tricks." 

Tuesday's laugh was bitter. "Yeah," she sneered. "He showed me a hell of a 
lot of ropes. If I had had a ten-foot length of one, there were a lot of 
times I would have swung myself from a rafter. This guy had to be the 
number-one asshole of all time." 

"Really?" Freda said, her eyes brightening. 

"No, not really. I mean he was too damn much of a snob to really get down 
and eat, a cunt. He was just a bastard. He was the type who would hold his 
mother for a nigger to fuck!" 

"What are you? Some kind of racist? I never knew you had anything against 
blacks." 

"Hell, I haven't but that was an old whorehouse saying back in the long-gone 
days when Manny was showing me how to rise in the world ..." 

Manny smoked cigars and wherever he went, there was usually a trail of acrid 
smoke flowing out behind him. Conversation with him was a study in survival, 
and Tuesday always tried to get upwind of him if possible. He also had an 
annoying habit of farting, and this again proved the upwind position to be 
the best one. 

"Listen," he told Tuesday, punctuating his remarks with stabs of the cigar 
into the air. "There are more cocks than there are available cunts. You know 
that. So the deal is to manage your cunt right and fill up the bank with 
money." 

"How?" Tuesday asked. 

"Hell, Henry Ford couldn't sell cars. He made em, but he got him some smart 
people to sell 'em. Now you got a quality product in your pussy. But you 
can't sell it. You'll always be a two-bit hooker if you don't get some 
smarts. You got to have proper management. It's the way to fame and 
fortune!" 

"And you got the proper management?" she asked doubtfully. 

"Damn right! Listen! It's just a matter of moving in the right circles. I 
can move in those circles and steer you to the guys. You know, on a 
call-girl basis. Hell, I figure with your cunt and your looks, a hundred a 
pop would be reasonable." 

"A hundred a pop? You mean everytime a guy comes or fucking all night?" 

"Oh, you'd give him a couple of hours for the hundred. I figure two or three 
a night. Six or seven if we work in the college fraternity set. Hell, you 
ain't ever seen so much money!" 

After a couple of days, Tuesday decided that if there was no other way than 
to be a whore, she might as well be a high-class one. Reluctantly, then, she 
agreed to submit herself to the "management" of Manny McDowell. In reality, 
she knew that Manny was a pimp and nothing more. 

The customers did, indeed, begin to come with regularity. There were old men 
and guys so grassy green that she had to fish out their cocks and get them 
started. There were blacks and whites, Indians, foreign and domestic, and 
she even had an Oriental. This was her first major shock after turning pro. 

The man was small and under his tailored suit, Tuesday could tell at a 
glance that he was well proportioned and muscular. His slanting eyes and 
heavy lids made her feel nervous. 

"Ah, Missy," he said with a smile. "Indeed, I do myself honor to be here. 
Ah, let me conclude the vulgarity of our financial arrangements." He handed 
her a tightly wadded hundred-dollar bill and averted his eyes as she stuffed 
it into her handbag on the dresser. 

"Okay," she said matter-of-factly. "It's your party, mister. Just tell me 
how and what." 

His eyes appeared to be pained. "Ah, Missy, it is your choice to make the 
style of our meeting. I am a poor foreigner visiting your wonderful country. 
I would like to experience everything in a native way." 

Tuesday was about to tell him that there was no strictly American way to 
fuck, and that citizens of the USA got their jollies in every conceivable 
manner. 

"Well, we make love a number of different ways," she said. "But I guess the 
most grass-roots American way is dog-fashion." 

"Dog... dog-fashion?" 

"Yes," she said. "It's a ticklish thing because you, come in from the rear 
while I'm kneeling. The trick is to tickle me about my asshole." 

"Please," he said. "I only want to get the general idea. Would you, 
therefore, do me the honor of disrobing and assuming the proper position? 
Mean while, I, too, will divest myself of my garments so that I shall be in 
the proper condition to accept the beauty of your body." 

Tuesday was certain he was not putting her on. Quickly, she stripped off her 
clothes and was naked before he could carefully hang his trousers over the 
back of a chair. 

As soon as she was naked, Tuesday hopped up on the bed and sank on her 
knees. Then she leaned forward and put her head on the bed. Her ass was 
turned up to his view, and both her asshole and cunt yawned open to him. 

He hesitated for a moment, and then began to peel off the remainder of his 
clothes and hurl them into a careless heap on the floor. Tuesday was anxious 
to see his cock. 

However, he kept his back toward her, and she saw the rounded contours of 
his ass. He turned to show her his fully erected cock. 

Tuesday blinked. His prick was without question the most incongruous thing 
she had ever beheld in her life. 

Mr. Hiroto was scarcely five feet tall, but he had a huge and well-developed 
prick which reared out of his crotch like a missile ready to launch. The 
shaft was a pale yellow. But when her eyes had wandered the full length of 
nine inches, she discovered a flaring head peering from underneath a 
pronounced foreskin. The head, like all the cocks she had ever observed, was 
red and angry-looking, and there was a distinct possibility that the 
foreskin was not going to skin back all the way. 

Underneath his prick, there was a gathering of loose flesh which Tuesday 
felt reasonably certain was the product of surgery or abuse. She could not 
be awe of which, but she was very certain that it had not grown that way of 
its own natural accord. 

It was truly an awesome cock, but Tuesday was not exactly a beginner in the 
art of fucking and it held no fear for her. 

His cock was much slimmer than any nine-inch prick she had ever seen, but 
the girth did not interest her as much as that head. If the skin would not 
come back, he would be very slow to come. If it did come back, then it would 
either slide all the way to the rear and expose a smooth, well-oiled 
surface, or it might, as some she had previously sucked and fucked, bunch 
itself into an unyielding wad right behind the head. 

This kind of cock always rode the hell out of a clitoris, and sometimes, 
even on a commercial fuck, Tuesday would be coming under the fucking of such 
a heavily wadded foreskin. 

Mr. Hiroto whirled with the grace of a ballet dancer and faced her with his 
legs thrust wide apart, a heavy sac of pendulous balls swinging between his 
legs. His cock did not soar upward as most cocks do. Rather, it stuck out at 
a right angle from his body. He would not have to pull it down to reach her 
hole. He would merely have to extend himself straight forward. 

But Mr. Hiroto was not a man to fuck at once. Tuesday watched him as he bent 
low to inspect her ass. Gently and tentatively, he probed about the brown 
bud of her asshole. Goddamn, it tickled, but he did not make her want to 
jump. Instead, she found that she was as fascinated with his inspection as 
he seemed to be with her asshole. 

He lowered his face until she could feel his breath on the inside of her ass 
crack. His nose soon came in contact with her asshole, and she felt his 
knees sink against the bed. Then, as he forced his nose up her asshole, she 
felt a shaking and vibrating which could mean only one thing. The son of a 
bitch was jerking himself off. 

Now what kind of shit was this? 

Tuesday craned her neck to see better, and she had a clear view of him 
striking at his cock with lightning like, seven-inch strokes. 

Each time he ran his hands up and over the head of his cock, he allowed, his 
second and third fingers to part, and the shaft would run upward through the 
aperture. Deeper into her asshole he nuzzled. As his nose burrowed further, 
Tuesday became aware that he was taking an oral interest in her cunt with 
his mouth. She felt his teeth nabbing against the jaws of her cunt, and 
involuntarily, she squeezed her pussy together. That one seemingly innocent 
gesture was her undoing. 

From the passive asshole sniffer, Mr. Hiroto was transformed into a raging 
maniac who scared the living shit out of Tuesday as he flung himself 
screaming upon her. He grabbed her roughly and threw her from her kneeling 
position to her back. Then he lunged on top of her, biting and clawing her 
with all his considerable strength. 

Tuesday, not expecting his attack, was certainly ready to accept his cock 
into whatever hole of her body he wanted to stick it in, but she was not 
prepared to accept his long nailed hands which were upping her flesh from 
her back and opening long bleeding lacerations in both her titties. Not only 
did he claw, but he also bit, growling deeply in his throat as he probed her 
upper body with his mouth, biting little chunks of her as he went. 

It took Tuesday maybe a half minute to realize that the son of a bitch was 
not just a violent fucker. Hell, he was a dangerous sickie who could easily 
inflict serious wounds on her body. 

Tuesday began to fight back like a tigress. But she was no match for his 
strength. 

But the suddenness of her retaliation hit him unprepared. He was bowled over 
backward, and a livid streak of red appeared from just under his left 
nipple, downward across his stomach. This had been opened up by Tuesday's 
long fingernails. 

Feeling the pain, he hesitated a moment, looking down at the blood on his 
body. Then, with eyes blazing, he smiled a leering, crooked grin, and leaped 
back upon her. 

This time, he was "no nonsense" Hiroto. He jammed his fingers deep into the 
softness of her titties, and when she felt the flesh tear, she opened her 
mouth and screamed. It was the cry of fright, of desperation, and of 
release. For while Tuesday was in severe pain, there was a certain electric 
stimulation to what the little man from the Far East was doing. 

He soon exhausted his interest in her bleeding body and her lacerated tits, 
and turned his slavering attention to her cunt. Shaking his head about like 
a mad dog, he forced her legs apart and dove. . . literally dove into her 
muff. His hard teeth crashed into the puffy softness, and he bit her pouting 
pussy, biting hard until there was a taste of blood in his mouth. Then, 
changing his course, he became strangely gentle, and sought to suck her 
clitoris out of its protective hiding. 

Though Tuesday had been somewhat thrilled by the pain, she was not turned 
on. She had no passion for the yellow brute who was ravaging her body. Thus, 
her clit was not hard and it wasn't stimulated. But Mr. Hiroto had seen 
reluctant clits before. 

He pulled her cunt apart until she feared it would split. The skin tightened 
over her upper snatch and revealed her buried clit. Licking his lips, Mr. 
Hiroto started a hard suck from the upper end of her cunt slit and gobbled 
hard until he had pulled her clitoris into his mouth. 

Then he performed an Oriental clit clobbering which sent Tuesday's asshole 
to opening and slamming shut in such horrendous succession that she wondered 
at the speed of its flapping. 

Once he had the clitoris under his control, Mr. Hiroto probed it expertly 
with his tongue. Tuesday was unable to keep it from becoming hard. As it 
rose in his mouth, he roughly shoved his index finger up her asshole, 
ramming his thumb up her twat. She was literally going out of her mind, for 
as he worked on her clit, he was deftly but surely cuffing the inside of 
both her cunt and asshole with his fingernails. 

His cock was spewing juice all over Tuesday and the bed. This madman was not 
interested in fucking her dint; he only wanted to impose pain and suffering. 
Tuesday was sure that if she survived Mr. Hiroto would go away with his cock 
unsullied by a Western cunt. 

After her cunt and asshole were bleeding, and her titties seemed to be about 
to drop from her body, Tuesday gave up resisting. She lay still, hopefully 
that he would soon blow his load into the air, and fall away. Then, by God, 
she would deal with him. 

But he was not going to unload in the air! As soon as both her cunt and 
asshole were ripped into bleeding pulps by his fingernails, and her clit had 
been sucked until it felt as though it might separate from her body, Mr. 
Hiroto jerked his hand from her pussy, and again started to pull his meat. 

Goddamn, how the juice flew! 

At first she thought hopefully that he had come. 

But then she knew from the consistency of the ooze which he was spilling on 
her that it was not come; it was only a copious supply of cooze oil. The 
juice from his cock not only soaked Tuesday and the bed, but it also ran 
back over Mr. Hiroto's dick, saturating his upper stomach, and running down 
to drench his balls which were drawn up tightly under his body. 

He bared his teeth again, and Tuesday prayed. 

God, don't let that slant-eyed son of a bitch bite a nipple off one of my 
titties. Her prayer was apparently heard and answered. Mr. Hiroto made no 
further effort to gnaw on her breasts. Rather, he jerked himself upward, and 
he seized his cock and lowered himself so that it fucked into her bloody 
pussy. 

Ah, she was relieved to find that her cunt was still intact. She did her 
best to relax and let his cock slide in. She would not bite down with the 
muscles of her twat. 

He began to fuck. And he fucked well. He varied his depths and his 
directions. But Mr. Hiroto fucked alone. Tuesday did nothing whatever to aid 
him or to meet the challenge of his cock. She was too frightened, and a 
little sick over what he had done to her. So, he was paying her a hundred. 
The cocksucker ought to shell out a thousand for what he had done. By God, 
would she ever tell that bastard Manny a thing or two! 

The sweat streamed down Mr. Hiroto's face. His balls were building higher 
and higher toward their inevitable explosion. Tuesday was holding herself 
back. She knew that with one or two more hunches she could bring him to 
orgasm before he knew what hit him. Then, feeling the throbs of his cock, 
Tuesday closed her eyes to let him come, to get the whole nightmare over 
with. 

But Mr. Hiroto was not to be brought off so easily. He was getting his 
money's worth. He plunged his cock to the maximum depth, and then with a 
slooshing sound, he extracted it from her cunt. 

Before she could open her eyes and focus them, she became painfully aware of 
why he had withdrawn. As soon as he was out of her cunt, he raised her ass 
off the bed, and with a reckless disregard for the delicate nature of rectal 
flesh, he drove his big-headed prick to the hilt in her battered asshole. 

Tuesday again rent the air with a pitiful scream. Mr. Hiroto seemed to be 
heightened by the sound. He quickened the pace of his assault, and poured 
the prick into her bowels. 

Then, with a scream of his own, Mr. Hiroto unloaded his sperm. Tuesday 
distinctly felt the heat of his come as it poured into her asshole. She was 
suddenly glad he had chosen to get his rocks off in her ass. The warmth of 
his jizm soothed her wounds, and as the trickle of his ball juice dripped 
out of her asshole and down between her legs to soak the bed again, she felt 
that she had indeed suffered the extreme cruelty, and had survived. 

Mr. Hiroto's cock began to soften inside her. 

"Get off me, you son of a bitch!" she cried. "Goddamn you. PU kill you!" 

Mr. Hiroto had not grown to middle years being either slow or foolish. No 
longer inflamed by the passion of his depraved desires, he was at once the 
meek little man who had been so solicitous of her in the first place. 

"Forgive me, missy," he said, rolling off and shaking the come off his cock 
onto the floor. "I was carried away. Oh, I am truly sorry to have hurt you. 

"Hurt me!" Tuesday screamed as her tears began to flow. "Goddamn, you have 
nearly killed me. Look at me. Just look! Bloody and torn up. I'll kill you!" 

"Peace! Peace!" he said, with palms outward. "I really meant no harm. I was 
merely overcome by the wealth of your charms." 

"Oh, bullshit!" she cried. "I'm 

You've put me out of business for God knows how long! It's just like 
somebody burned your place of business." 

Mr. Hiroto smiled sympathetically. "As the responsible party, I can pay the 
damage. How would three thousand dollars, American, seem to you?" 

The pain went out of Tuesday's cunt. "Three thousand . . . dollars?" 

"Yes," he said. "You have given me great pleasure, done me great honor, and 
it is only fitting that you should be compensated for your effort and your 
damage." 

She was speechless. 

Chapter Ten 

Manny listened to Tuesday's recital of her session with Mr. Hiroto and the 
more he heard, the more he smiled. 

"Goddamnit!" she raged. "I don't see anything to smile about. The bastard 
hurt me. He hurt me bad. God knows how long it will be before I'm ready to 
take on a regular cock again. Jesus Christ! I attract these sickies like a 
shit draws flies." 

"You miss the point, baby," Manny said. 

"What point?" 

"The three thou you got there in your kit! Hell, we been going about this 
the wrong way. We been selling plain old fucking and sucking for peanuts 
when these guys who want blood will lay out the real heavy bread for it. Now 
what the hell does that tell you?" 

"What?" 

"It's simple," he said. "From now on we become specialists. We cater only to 
these fucked-up cats. No matter what they want, we give it to 'em, and 
charge accordingly." 

"But wait a minute," she protested. "I don't know where you get this we 
stuff. I'm the one who has to be chewed and clawed and fucked in every hole. 
Goddamn, I'm getting the pain, and I'm not about to take on bastards like 
Hiroto unless I get all the money except ten percent. Even then, you're 
overpaid. I'd like to see what you would charge to let somebody scrape out 
your asshole with a nasty fingernail." 

"Okay. Okay," he agreed. "So, I'll work for ten percent. But we'll get more. 
Think how hard it is for any of these guys to get what they want. Don't you 
think Hiroto will tell his friends? Well, he will... and when they start 
calling, you just turn 'em over to me. We'll run a high-class, specialty 
service, but the creepy cocksuckers are gonna pay. 

Tuesday shook her head in bewilderment. The only reason she was going along 
was that she knew it would take only a short time to put together enough 
money to get the hell out of the whoring business. Then, by God, she would 
marry somebody like Bick and settle down to run a chicken farm. That was 
what she decided she wanted. The quiet life on the farm. 

"Okay," she agreed, "But I won't be able to fuck anything for at least a 
week, maybe more. Man, my whole cunt is a disaster area." 

Manny patted her cheek. "Now you're talking," he said. "Just leave 
everything to me. Take a week to get over Hiroto, and I'll get busy and line 
up something. Hell, you're gonna be rich." 

Tuesday slept a lot, and bathed her snatch and asshole in healing salt water 
and alum. The latter was to shrink the tissues and make her cunt and asshole 
tight again. 

Within five days, she was pissing without pain, and at the end of the 
seventh day, she finger-fucked herself to bring herself off to a roaring, 
ear-bugging orgasm that made her wonder why the hell men were necessary in 
the first place. 

Then, on the eight day, she began to wonder if there was ever going to be 
any more action. She had not seen or heard from Manny. But just before 
nightfall on the eighth day, he put in his appearance, grinning broadly and 
obviously in high humor. 

"I've struck it for you," he proclaimed. "Goddamn, you're gonna make more 
money tomorrow than the average whore does in a year!" 

Tuesday frowned. "Don't call me a whore," she said. "What the hell are you 
talking about?" 

"Well, I found out about this exclusive club over in the Bradbury Heights 
section. All of 'em married men, and very discreet. It's so damn secret, the 
members don't hardly know each other." 

'That's a double negative," she said. 

"What?" 

"Never mind. What about the club?" 

"These guys got money up the gazoo, and they get together every once in a 
while because they have been drawn to each other. You know, they're all 
fucked up. They're asshole bastards that want to be whipped, and some 
fart-sniffers and shit-eaters. Oh, hell, I guess they got somebody who wants 
a little of everything. But it's more of a hunt club. They don't do much for 
each other. 

Take a guy who wants to smell a really rank fart. He can't do a damn thing 
for a guy who wants to lick assholes. In fact, I talked to the guy who is 
just nuts on licking assholes, and he thinks the fart-sniffer is queer and 
they don't even speak. But they all stay in the club, because they figure if 
they can help each other search for partners, then they all got a better 
chance. 

"There's one little thing about this deal. Lots of these guys want a man. 
One they were telling me about is a confirmed cocksucker. He won't do 
anything but cop a prick, and he won't pay a nickel for it if there isn't 
some shit kinda hanging on the back of the balls." 

Tuesday was intrigued. "How in the hell would any shit be on balls?" 

"Oh, you're not that dumb," Manny said. "If a guy has the runny shits, it's 
no trouble at all for some of it to drip out of his asshole and run down on 
his balls. Then, he doesn't wear himself out wiping his ass, he's got those 
delicious, shit-stained balls, just right for lopping." 

"Huh? If I had balls, I wouldn't go around with shit on them." 

"Not for a thousand? Well, I would!" 

"You mean you're..." 

"You're tuning in," he said. "Here's what I've done. I let the guy who licks 
assholes.... he's a trustee for the YMCA and works with the Home for Unwed 
Mothers.., line the deal up. I told him to get five of 'em. I don't give a 
damn what they want, the two of us will give it. The price for an all-night 
soak is.. get this.., ten thousand." 

Tuesday gasped. 

"Now wait! I get five and you get five. And you're getting the best of the 
deal, because I'm the one who lined up the whole thing, and I'm getting 
nothing for my promotional work. But think of it! Five apiece for one 
night!" 

Tuesday made a quick calculation about how much she had in the bank. "Okay, 
it sounds fine," she admitted. "I think I can handle this. What kind of 
sickies are gonna be there?" 

Manny consulted a notebook. "Well, we have a shit-eating cocksucker, and 
then we got a real curiosity. We got this minister who likes to chew 
foreskins while somebody works up his asshole. I got the foreskin for him, 
but we'll have to work out the bit for his rear end." 

"How about a broom handle?" Tuesday suggested. "We could sand it down real 
good, and put a rubber on it." 

"Why put a rubber on a broom handle? It can't come, and besides, he won't 
get pregnant anyhow. Hell, if there are any splinters in it, he'll go ape, 
and we'll charge him extra. Okay, then, we got the broom handle taken care 
of. Now, you may be a little uncertain about this next one. He's got a real 
problem. He likes to chew the Kotex off a cunt. He says nothing will send 
him unless he can taste that good old blood." 

"Well, we're shit out of luck. I'm not having my period." 

Manny smiled, and tapped his head with his finger. "I'm way ahead of you. 
I've arranged to buy a bucket of blood from a slaughterhouse. He won't know 
it's from a cow. I'll just soak the Kotex napkin in it, and then add a few 
drops of rotten fish oil. Shit! He'll think, he's eating the foulest cunt in 
the world." 

N Tuesday had to admit Manny was creative. 

"Then we got an ex-football player who was as queer as hell in college, but 
has gone down since. He just can't make it sucking a cock anymore. He has to 
eat on a sweaty jock strap, sucking the juice out of it while some fellow 
jerks him off. Hell, I can do that while the other guy is lopping my balls. 
Then, finally, we got what they call a titty walker." 

"Jesus Christ! What's a 'titty walker'?" 

"This guy is hung up on tits, but not like most people. He doesn't give a 
flying shit about playing with them. He wants to walk on them. You know, 
sort of a fucked-up version of running barefoot through acres of titties. He 
comes as he gets his toes with nipples poking up between them. 

"Yeah, but hell! He'll kill me if he stands up on my tits. They aren't that 
big, but I'd damn well hate to lose either one of 'em." 

"Hell, I'm ahead of you again," Manny boasted. "I got this guy to agree to 
do his titty walking lying down. All it will amount to is that he will be 
feeling your boobs with his feet. Shit, there won't be any pain in that at 
all. Now you gotta admit, I have done a helluva promotional job, and this is 
only the beginning. Hell, they got a whole load of way-out mother fuckers, 
and we'll clean them out. Shit, we'll fill up the bank with money!" 

"I always thought you had plenty of money," 

Tuesday said. 

"Hell, a rich man's never got enough." 

Tuesday felt a certain anticipation. If five weirdo sexopaths could ante up 
ten grand for a single night, God Almighty, there must be millions out there 
just waiting to be hauled in. "You soak up the blood and rotten fish juice," 
she said. "I puke easily." 

"Yeah," Manny said dryly. "I know." 

That very night was the occasion of the massive sickie orgy. . . fuck . . . 
suck. ..fart... sniff. ..and eat! 

Manny was as nervous as a cat before the first guests arrived. He had never 
offered himself for sale, and certainly not to a cod-lopping man. What's 
more, while he was able to douse the Kotex in cow blood and fish oil without 
any hesitation, when it came to smearing slit over his own balls, that was 
something else again. 

Tuesday smiled silently to herself as she saw him gag as he prepared his 
balls. It was not his shit. In fact, it wasn't even human. It was some dog 
crap that he had scooped up out of the front yard. 

After he painted his balls, Manny had to leave off his pants to allow the 
gop to dry, and while he waited, he kept himself busy and useful applying a 
sheet of number-two sandpaper to a broom handle which he had cut to a length 
of about two feet. 

Tuesday liked the way Manny's balls flopped, even if-they were covered in 
shit. His cock was also attractive to her. She felt a slight tug of 
nostalgia as she looked at his prick. In less complicated days, she would 
have taken his cock into the warm folds of her pussy and the two of them 
could have finished each other off and dreamed happily afterward. Now, 
though, there was the ever pressing quest for money which robbed life of its 
mystical and romantic properties. 

Manny had encountered some considerable trouble in procuring a really 
raunchy jock strap. Contrasting his school days when a fellow would wear the 
same jock until it stood stiff against the side of his locker, athletes now 
get a clean ball bag every day. A dirty jock. . . a really dirty jock, was a 
tough thing to acquire. 

Finally, he persuaded a two-hundred-forty pound-high-school football player 
who had exceedingly beefy thighs and a wiry-haired crotch to wear the same 
jock for three days in practice in order to soak it thoroughly with sweat. 
Then, Manny wadded the soaking jock cover into a ball and thrust it into a 
clothes bag where he hoped it would sour and be at its rankest maximum when 
the user got his teeth into it. 

"Hell, if we can get a big enough reputation with these folks," Manny was 
saying, "we can tell all the whip and lash and bite and bleed bastards to 
get lost. Goddamn, there's a mission to be made out of freaks who won't hurt 
anybody!" 

"Now there," said Tuesday, remembering Mr. Hiroto, "is where I'm with you a 
hundred percent." 

The crowd arrived in a body. Manny fluttered around, sewing up drinks, and 
Tuesday who was bored by thew simpering, pseudo gentility of the men, wished 
to God they would cut out the horseshit and get on with it. Finally, a 
spraddle-assed, trucking executive set his glass down and said to Tuesday, 
"I'm a titty-fancier. May I look at yours?" 

"You sun can," she said, relieved. "Here, help me get my dress unzipped." 
She had left off her bra. After all, her titties did not require support. 
They were hard and firm and they did not droop. Hence, when one of the main 
orders was to let some bastard work them over with his feet, she was 
instantly ready. 

"Ooooh! They're lovely," he cooed, kicking off his shoes. "Lie down! Lie 
down! I want to touch them with my toes!" 

Tuesday flopped unceremoniously on the couch, and the fucker stripped off 
his socks and climbed up to sit on the back of the divan. In this manner, he 
could put both his feet on her titties. As soon as he was situated, and got 
her nipples up between his toes, he began to moan in a low voice, and his 
cock sprang up in his pants. 

He unashamedly pulled his cock out, and began to stoke it gently as he 
worked his feet around on Tuesday's tits. 

This seemed to electrify the crowd. The guy who wanted to eat the Kotex felt 
tentatively in Tuesday's crotch to make certain she had the rag on. 

When he felt the soft padding which was unmistakably a sanitary napkin, he 
beamed broadly, and began to jerk his pants off with one hand to elevate 
Tuesday's skirt with the other. 

Manny realized that the moment was at hand when the orgy would blast off. He 
hurriedly produced the smelly jock strap, and got out of all his clothes 
while the jock chewer was sniffing over the rancid surface of the supporter. 
Its smell was sufficient to foul the whole room, but he buried his face in 
it, and the others were quick to observe that there was almost at once a 
damp and widening spot of cooze oil spilling out of his cock and showing up 
on his pants. That's good, Manny thought, because the jock chewer would not 
require any further attention. 

The cod lopper, however, was so anxious he was jumping about, and trying to 
constrain himself until Manny could produce his shit-stained scrotum. 

Manny's balls were swinging, and had a distinct brownish flavor to them. The 
lopper shoved Manny into leaning over the arm of a chair, and he thrust his 
nose against Manny's nuts. 

"Jesus," he exhaled, "would you smell that lovely odor? Your balls are the 
best I ever saw smelled." He took one tentative lick at the scrotum. "Jesus, 
what a taste!" he cried, smacking his lips in relish. "Oh, my God, what did 
you eat to product shit like this?" 

"Dog food," Manny said with a smile. 

Finally, they were all in action except the poor asshole who wanted to chew 
a foreskin. He was circling around Manny like a bird of prey about to 
strike, but at first, he could not figure a way in which he could get to 
Manny's cock. Then he squatted on his haunches and backed up under where 
Manny was leaning over the arm of the chair. Thus, he got the foreskin 
between his teeth, and as he whimpered and slopped around, Manny silently 
handed him the broom handle. 

"Hell no," he protested. "I'm not working that thing into my own asshole. 
You got to do it." 

Manny started to move about to make this possible but the cod lopper 
protested, and for a moment it seemed there might be some sort of 
confrontation between the foreskin chewer and the cod lopper. 

Manny saved the day. By a simple readjustment, the three of them fell on the 
floor. Manny got a quick and juicing hard-on when he felt his foreskin being 
pulled into a mouth and gently gnawed on. His cock responded, and this, in 
turn, sewed to excite the chewer. 

Once Manny got excited, he could work the stick up the gaping asshole with a 
certain relish. 

Meanwhile, Tuesday was having a hell of a time. The Kotex chewer had pulled 
the rag off her snatch and in his excitement, he had not been able to keep 
it held firmly between his teeth. Consequently, it fell to the floor, and 
the guy was at once back on the bare flesh of her cunt in search of more 
blood and more fishy taste. Of course, there was a slight indication of it 
on Tuesday's cunt, but she prided herself in the cleanliness of her twat, 
and the man soon discovered that she was not really on the rag. 

"Wait a goddamn minute," he thundered. "This gal ain't bleeding." 

Manny leaped up, wrenching his cock out of a hot mouth and puffing the broom 
handle from the twitching asshole before him. 

"Yes, she is," he cried. "You may have caught her between drains, but she 
will turn loose some more in just a minute, won't you, Tuesday?" As he asked 
the question, he jerked his head in the direction of the bathroom where the 
cow blood and rotten fish juice were stashed under the basin in a closed 
cabinet. 

For a second, Tuesday was not certain. Then she understood. "Please, 
gentlemen," she said, "will you excuse me a moment?" 

"Hell no!" the titty-walker cried, shoving his toes about her nipples and 
holding on. 

Tuesday twisted away, and kissed him on the cock. "I'll be right back," she 
promised. "I just got to go in here and turn myself on." 

She truly had to choke down her bile as she opened the containers. 

She dipped her hand into the smelly mess and smeared it all over her pussy. 
Then, reeking and bleeding convincingly, she hustled back into the action 
room, and was at once attacked by the two whom she had just left. 

Her nipples were beginning to be irritated. The bastard's feet were rough 
and callused, but Tuesday knew he would not last long. His cock was drooling 
all over the back of the sofa, and his balls were now drawn tight against 
him. He was still stroking his cock, but it was merely that. He was 
definitely not beating his meat. His libido was produced through his feet. 
He would be coming in a very short time. 

The Kotex chewer came like the ordinary man took a piss. He began to leak 
jizm out the end of his cock, and it continued to run until his supply was 
exhausted, and the feeling receded from his prick. 

Tuesday had not seen a man come like this, and she wondered if the feeling 
was as good to him as to others. Since nobody can feel what another feels at 
the moment of orgasm, there was no way to tell for certain. But the guy 
seemed to be going through dome sort of deep emotional experience as he ate 
the stinking cunt and dripped his droppings on the floor. 

The cock chewer was a true loner. He sat stupidly against the wall, licking 
the bottom of the ball cup. Tuesday suspected that while he may have got 
some ticks out of chewing the jock, that he really got the most stimulation 
from watching the others. She suspected further that the jock was a cover 
for his own feelings of inadequacy, but as long as he could hide behind it, 
he could watch others and shoot off his load. 

The foreskin chewer and the cod lopper were noisy.. They gobbled and 
slobbered, and the guy sucking Manny's balls had saliva mixed with dog shit 
running down his chin. His cock was jumping with a quick and forceful jerk, 
and Tuesday was sure he would come. And she was right. 

Manny had an unerring instinct for timing, and as he sensed the lopper was 
going to blow his balls, the broom handle was rammed the full eighteen 
inches into the upturned asshole. The ball sucker screamed, took one final 
lick at Manny's balls, and expelled a sickening glop of come onto the floor. 

The guy who had abandoned the Kotex to get right into Tuesday's cunt was the 
last to come, but his climax was decidedly the most dramatic. At the moment 
when he was deep in her muff, and the overpowering smell of the rotten fish 
and cow's blood was stifling his breath, his asshole suddenly began to 
twitch. He reached around behind himself and tried to shove a finger up his 
asshole. It was difficult because of the position he had to assume to get 
into Tuesday's pussy. 

Manny, seeing that the poor guy was in a tough situation;, jerked the broom 
handle from the asshole of the one who had already come, and plunged it in 
full force, laden with shit and a tinge of blood as it was, right up the 
Kotex fancier's asshole. 

As the broom handle struck into his entrails, the Kotex eater sucked in a 
great mouthful of Tuesday's cunt drippings. He emitted a soulful scream. His 
balls were loaded and under tremendous pressure anyway, but his upward leap 
flung his load across the room to stick and then ooze slowly down the wall. 

When it was all over, the five visitors lay scattered about, wallowing in 
their own dick drippings and asshole leavings. Tuesday and Manny were sadly 
in need of a bath, but they were happy. 

Now, all they had to do was split the money, and line up the next deal. It 
was, all in all, Tuesday decided, not a bad way to get rich quickly. 

Chapter Eleven 

"Well, damn, Freda said. "It looks to me like you two had a hell of a thing 
going. Jesus Christ! Ten grand for one night. Hell, it didn't take...what. 
..half an hour?" 

"Oh no!" Tuesday said, scratching her chewed up pussy. "I guess those 
assholes were there for three, maybe four hours. I've just given you the 
high spots of how it went. My tits were sore for a week. Titties just aren't 
made for feet." 

"Yeah, but why the hell did you give it up? Hell, you won't make that much 
money in six months now." 

"Oh yes, I will," Tuesday said wryly. "That was the problem. After we got 
through with it, and everybody had his clothes on again, Manny said he would 
go out to the car with the guys where they would pay off. Then he'd come 
back, and we would split." 

"So?" 

"Well, the son of a bitch never came back." 

"But hell," Freda said. "You got the three grand from Hiroto. Why did you 
let Manny ruin your deal? Hell, you didn't need him. Shit, you could do it 
by yourself. You still could." 

"Naw," Tuesday said. "Like Manny said, everything needs management. Look at 
us here. If we didn't have some sort of madam to greet the marks at the 
front door, what kind of whorehouse would this be? And I'm also too, 
soft-hearted." 

"What do you mean, soft-hearted?" 

"Well, let some bastard give me a sad story, and I'll let him have some 
pussy just because I feel sorry for him. Then I don't have the guts to push 
him for the money. That's the reason I got to have outside management." 

Freda sneered. "Huh! I wouldn't fuck my brother without the dough in 
advance." 

"Let me give you one of my sadder stones as an example of why I'm such a 
bust at being a legitimate whore. I think it was Joplin or maybe St. Jo, 
Missouri. . . somewhere out there. II blow into town about ten o'clock at 
night, and I'm stuck in the bus station. Hell, I got money, but this place 
is like nowhere. I'm looking for a cab and... 

There was a heavy and oppressive atmosphere in the Joplin bus station. 
Tuesday, lugging her heavy suitcase, wrinkled her nose in distaste. The 
station smelled of unwashed bodies and stale tobacco smoke. Whew! It had 
been a weary trip from nowhere to Joplin, and Tuesday was bone-tired. It was 
several months after Manny had walked out and disappeared, and she had been 
at loose ends. 

She set the suitcase down. It was cold outside as she waited for a taxi. She 
sat down on the baggage, and began to search her pocketbook for a cigarette. 

Ruefully, she contemplated her financial condition: Twelve dollars and 
sixty-seven cents. Tuesday was certainly no business manager. 

Tuesday guessed she would get a room in a cheap hotel and make some sort of 
whore arrangement with the bell captain. If there is a sorry arrangement in 
whoring, it is being dependent on the customers which a bellman can shoo 
into your room. 

While Tuesday was wondering what the name of a proper hotel would be, she 
caught sight of a young, virile man ambling across the station toward her. 

The guy was, Tuesday reckoned, about nineteen, with auburn hair grown long 
down on his neck, and combed carelessly across his forehead. It was well 
styled. His shirt was open almost to his navel. Tuesday was certain the guy 
had magnificent nipples, probably dark brown, and very smooth. 

Mound the middle, he was as slender as a girl, but Tuesday could almost feel 
the firmness of his stomach. In her mind's eye, Tuesday imagined how sleek 
his midsection would be, and it inflamed her cunt. After all, she had not 
had a decent fuck in a long time. Not one that turned her on. Most of the 
johns to whom she sold a piece of pussy were so terribly inept, or so 
unbelievably nervous or so suddenly drunk, that except for a few times when 
she finger-fucked herself in sheer desperation, Tuesday had not had her 
rocks off in months. 

Guys who pay for pussy seldom ever know anything about fucking. Ah! But this 
guy, even if he was a virgin and knew nothing.. . he was created to be a sex 
wonder. 

Tuesday marveled at his hips. How graceful they were, and how smoothly 
contoured were his buttocks. She licked her lips and wondered if the flesh 
on his ass, was as creamy as that which showed down the open front of his 
shirt. 

Tuesday was drawn to the outline of a sizeable cock which was clearly 
discernible against his right leg. The clot of his jeans was stretched so 
tightly over it that Tuesday could see the definition of the head, and all 
of the shaft down to the bottom. 

Did he have a hard-on? Surely not! He was out in public and there was no 
reason on earth he should be stimulated. Yet, that cock was at least.. . 
well, it had to be a good seven inches. Now, seven-inch cocks are a rarity 
at best, and Tuesday just did not believe There could be one that long and 
that big, around, with that firm a head on it, and still be soft. 

No, by Christ, the guy had a hard-on. For what reason, Tuesday had no idea, 
but it was for certain: 

His cock was up, and ready. . . for what? 

Tuesday didn't know, but from the itching inside her drawers, she knew where 
she wished it was being shoved at that very moment. With each unhurried step 
the guy took, his cock would work its way up and down his pants. Tuesday 
knew that the rough texture of his pants would bear down through whatever 
kind of underwear he might be wearing, and the way his tool was being 
rubbed, he would have to be as hot as a two-dollar pistol. 

She gazed at his crotch where the caged monster WSS lunging upward in an 
effort to escape. Jesus, would he turn it loose? Tuesday hoped she could 
catch his eye while appearing not to be flying to do so. Her problems, 
however, were easily solved. 

He walked straight up to her, and since she was sitting on her suitcase, his 
cock was right in her face. It was all she could do to keep from lurching 
out and taking his asscheeks into her hands, plunging her mouth over his 
cock. Was it her imagination, or did she actually see it throb through his 
pants? 

"Hello," he said, thrusting his hands into his hip pockets, thus tightening 
his already taut pants. "You a stranger here?" 

"Yes... yes, I am," Tuesday said, casting her glance down. She hoped that 
she had not been too obvious looking at his prick. 

"Me too," he said. "And I'll tell you something else. I ain't got a dime. 
And worse, I'm hungry. You look like a person who might listen to a sad 
story and maybe help a fellow out with a little something to eat." 

Tuesday thought: Goddamn, I'll eat you! "Oh, I'm sorry you're broke," she 
said. "I'm not exactly the United States Treasury myself. But if you can go 
for a cup of coffee and maybe a stack of pancakes, I guess I can wring for 
tat. I know this isn't breakfast time, but..." 

"Lady, I've been so seldom, I don't figure what meal it is. I just take 
whatever comes along." 

Tuesday got up off the suitcase, and was disconcerted to feel a dampness 
between her legs. Goddamnit! Her cunt was juicing from just talking with a 
fuzzy-faced guy, and she had swung on some of the biggest and most 
experienced cocks in the country. 

"You got any place to sleep?" she asked. 

"Naw, not really," he said, reaching down to pick up his bag. "I thought I'd 
walk around; maybe somebody would pick me up and take me home." 

"Somebody?" 

"Yeah. . . well, I hate to say it, but a guy can always, well, get another 
guy in a bus-station wash room. I guess that shocks you, but when you're 
hungry and ain't got nothing, you'll do anything you have to." 

"No," Tuesday said as they walked out of the station and toward an all-night 
beanery across the street, "I'm not shocked. I guess I've done a few things 
when I had to myself." 

He smiled. 

"You don't look like somebody on the bum," she said. 

"Well, I'm not really a bum," he said. "I just left home a few weeks ago. Me 
and my old man just don't get along, and I've been running around trying to 
find someplace to light. Maybe I'll find it here." 

"Say, why don't we both get something to eat, and then I'll rent a room 
somewhere and we can get some rest together?" 

He blinked as they sat down. "You mean sleep together in the same bed?" 

"Why not?" Tuesday challenged. 

"Nothing! We gonna do anything besides sleep?" 

"Why not?" 

"Okay! You know, I've been just aching for a girl for the past couple of 
days, and I never dreamed I'd get one as pretty as you are. Golly, this is 
my lucky day!" 

Tuesday felt a hot ooze of cooze drooling out of her snatch. Jesus, after 
taking on all the sickies and finks she had been rolling around with, the 
idea of getting a hot cock from a guy who really had appeal was a heady 
potion. Whew! Tuesday was suddenly not hungry. 

She wanted this guy. She wanted him in bed, naked, on cool sheets. She 
wanted to feel the hardness of his body pressed against her. Mostly, she 
wanted to feel that beautiful hard cock slip between her legs and work 
itself up into her snatch hole. 

She could feel the nipples on her titties growing firm and hard inside her 
bra. "Eat up, and let's get out of here," she said hoarsely. "What's your 
name, anyhow?" 

"Foxy," he replied. "Foxy Fowler. Really, it isn't Foxy, but everybody calls 
me that. I used to cheat so much in school that they all thought I was kinda 
foxy Shit!" 

Under the table, she could feel his knee pressing against hers, and she let 
her legs drift easily apart so that he could shove his between them. 
Goddamn, she was getting so hot, she was about to leap over the table after 
him. 

Foxy ate the cakes and coffee. Tuesday contented herself with a glass of 
milk and a few crackers. Right at that moment, she was not in a mood to eat 
anything except Foxy's cock. This, she firmly believed, would be the most 
succulent morsel she ever worked down her throat. 

Foxy, who had distinguished himself in his Arkansas hometown not only as the 
most adroit cheater in high school, but also as the town's most accomplished 
masturbator and pussy-licker, had whipped his cock off two and three times a 
day during his wandering odyssey away from home. 

He had jacked off in phone booths late at night, in public toilets in the 
daytime, and even soaked his pants with his own come by tearing out the 
pockets in his jeans to reach down to the hot meat of his prick as he rode 
along on the bus. 

His balls were always hot, and the more he played with his cock, the more it 
demanded attention. But even his best ministrations grew tiresome after a 
while. He liked to have a girl get after his prick, and when he saw Tuesday 
in the bus station, he pulled his hands out of his pockets and released his 
erected cock for her to see. Her response had been more than he could have 
hoped for. 

They strolled up the street until they came to a shabby gentile boarding 
house with a "For Rent" sign out front. 

Tuesday negotiated for the room, saying she wanted it for a couple of days 
while she looked around. The old gal who ran the house wasn't dumb; she 
recognized a hooker when she saw one. She wrongly figured that Foxy was 
Tuesday's pimp. She also made a mental note to see if she could give him a 
piece of her own shriveled-up pussy. Damn, he sure was a handsome guy! 

Up in their room, Tuesday turned to Foxy, and he encircled her with a great 
hug which poked his cock right into the pocket between her legs. She could 
feel its hardness as he rubbed it against her. Their first kiss was a long 
and searching exchange of tongues, their mouths melting together as their 
bodies writhed and twisted in a heated contact. Finally, they broke, and 
Tuesday's tongue sought his ear as he dropped his mouth to the lower portion 
of her neck and began to slobber over her there. 

"Oh God," she gasped. "Let's get out of these clothes and make love!" 

Foxy sat down on the edge of a battered footstool. He stripped off his shoes 
and socks, and was on his feet to unfasten his pants when he noted that 
Tuesday was already naked and waiting for him. 

When they were both naked, they paused to admire each other. Tuesday's body, 
not withstanding all the perverted assaults which it had undergone, was 
still as attractive as it had been the first time she was licked in the cunt 
in that girls' camp. Her titties were firm. Her nipples were dark and ripe, 
and because of her heated affinity for Foxy, they felt heavy. 

Foxy's cock was hard and swollen. He had made himself come manually so many 
times in the preceding forty eight hours that he had irritated the head of 
his tool, making it larger than it was in ordinary circumstances. 

Their bellies were both flat and firm, and as they moved together, her 
titties were pressed hard against him and their navels touched. 

When Foxy's cock jabbed into Tuesday's thigh, she felt a weakness sweep 
through her. Now, what in God's name would cause that? She was used to 
fucking. Taking one cock or a dozen cocks in any hole on her body was 
nothing new; it was not even unusual. Yet, the mere touch of the wet end of 
Foxy's cock sent a shiver of anticipation through her entire system. 
Goddamn, fucking would be great fun if it could always be with Foxy! 

His cock was dripping. However, as soon as he was in contact with Tuesday's 
body, the eye of his cock began to weep in increasing amounts. 

He wriggled his hips about. It made his cock slip in between her legs, and 
she clamped her thighs together tightly against his hot prick. The head was 
stopped about an inch and a half from the mouth of her -pussy, and he could 
feel the fickle of her twat hairs sweeping gently over his most sensitive 
parts. 

She held his cock between her thighs to keep it out of her cunt until they 
could wrestle themselves down on the bed. 

When they hit the bed, their mouths again melted together, and Tuesday 
parted her legs to open her cunt to Foxy's eager, searching prick. He had no 
opportunity to inspect her pussy visually. As a rule, Foxy liked to eat a 
pussy and have a girl jerk him off, or in extreme cases, he would beat his 
own meat while chewing on a cunt. 

Tuesday, however, gave him no chance. He was so uncontrollably hot when her 
legs parted that he made an instinctive thrust forward, and her pussy lips 
closed about the throbbing head of the cock. Once the head was trapped in 
the mouth of her cunt, her cunt drew him inward. 

They clasped their arms about each other, and pulled their bodies closely 
together. He loved to feel those hard nipples bared and boring into his 
chest. 

They rolled about on the bed, kissing and feeling so good. His tool was 
buried to the hilt in the warm folds of her velvet pussy. But except for the 
friction created by the way they rolled about, there was no real fucking. 
But it felt good. Foxy's cock was so hot that a breeze flowing over it might 
have sent his come flying. 

Tuesday rolled over on her back, and spread her legs wide apart. This opened 
her cunt to its fullest, and Foxy's balls, already up tight against his 
body, all but fell into the hole along with his cock. Her clit was so taut 
that he could feel it bearing down on the top of his prick. 

In a swift motion, Tuesday locked her legs behind his back, and curled her 
arms around his shoulders. "Now, for God's sake, FUCK!" 

Huffing and puffing, Foxy dug for a toehold in the bed. She was jerking 
beneath him, and he was pouring his cock into the dark heat of her womb. 
Deeper dug the head with every plunge. His heavy-handed meat beating had 
whetted his cock's appetite for a pussy bath, and he resolved that, on the 
brink of his orgasm, jacking off would always be a secondary pleasure if he 
could fuck Tuesday regularly. 

Their bodies were slipping and sliding; her titties were so hot! Her asshole 
was winking and opening and slamming shut with rapid tire. Tuesday did not 
care. 

When she came, her asshole went "Woosh!" and the lips and interior walls of 
her cunt quivered and convulsively chewed upon his vomiting cock. He came as 
though he had not emptied his balls for weeks. Through his cock spurted the 
hot jizm into her womb, and she rose heavily on her heels and shoulders to 
meet the downward thrust of his meat. Finally, she collapsed on the bed, and 
he fell on top of her, his cock deeply buried into her box. There it lay and 
drooled and soaked in a combination of its own and Tuesday's juices. 

That night, and for many weeks, months, and even years afterward, Tuesday 
thought Foxy had the finest body and the hardest, most satisfying cock on 
earth. 

When she woke up the next morning, Foxy was gone, and so was the remainder 
of Tuesday's twelve dollars, and all of her clothes. 

Chapter Twelve 

As Freda listened to the story of Foxy's cock, she had become excited and 
had moved over as close to Tuesday as she could lie on the bed. Finally, 
just as the dramatic description of the vomiting cock was unfolded, Freda 
was overcome with desire. It had been a long time since, she had fucked a 
man of her own choice and for her own pleasure, and in her mind, she was 
back with Tuesday in bed with Foxy. 

Without conscious regard for her action, Freda flung a leg over Tuesday, and 
shoved her warm and willing pussy over Tuesday's hipbone. In a flash, the 
old days in the girls' camp came back to Tuesday, and she automatically 
responded. She rolled her ass to work the hardness of her bone into the hot 
meat of Freda's cunt. 

Freda gurgled and gasped, then clasped both of Tuesday's titties. She rubbed 
her thumbs over the nipples, and Tuesday realized that she, herself, wanted 
to get with Freda. Telling her own story had turned her on, and even if her 
cunt was torn with bites and scratches, she knew that she had to give 
herself to Freda, and that the two of them would come to orgasm in some 
manner. 

Freda continued to rub over Tuesday's titties until they were hot and heavy 
again, and when Tuesday's passion flared, she leaped down between Freda's 
legs to begin sucking on her pussy. Freda parted her legs as wide as she 
could, and taking her hands away from Tuesday's tits, she placed them under 
her own buttocks to elevate her cunt from the bed. 

Tuesday loved it! As Freda lifted herself, Tuesday could not only suck on 
the clit, but she could get down into the gorge as deep as she wished, and 
underneath it all, Tuesday could catch the faint scent of Freda's asshole. 

Oh Jesus, it had been a long, long time since she had been into a female 
asshole. Freda had a wonderful body. Her skin was as smooth as a baby's ass, 
and it glowed with health and heat. 

Tuesday lapped about Freda's cunt, and then, shoving her own hands under 
Freda's body, Tuesday lifted it higher, and exposed that elusive brown 
asshole. She could see it, but she couldn't get to it. 

"Turn over! Turn over on your stomach... quick!" 

Freda was too overcome to question. She rolled to her stomach, reaching as 
she did to gently caress Tuesday's worn and battered snatch.. When Freda was 
flat on her side, Tuesday pulled her legs apart and was pleased to see a 
beautiful asshole. 

Of course, Tuesday was no prude. She would lick up an asshole hair, or no 
hair. But there was just something about a asshole that made her insides 
chum! Tuesday buried her face in Freda's crack. Once in between those 
deliciously rounded cheeks, Tuesday sought out the asshole with her tongue. 

Freda squealed, and humped so violently Tuesday almost lost her hold. But 
she did manage to hold on. Up... uuupp! The darting tongue slammed its way 
into Freda's bowels, and Tuesday let one hand creep under the prone body to 
sneak a finger into Freda's twat, and to place another on the clit. 

Freda, meanwhile, had to work with extreme care on Tuesday's cunt because of 
the injuries. Tuesday's clit had been all but wrenched from its moorings, 
and the hole was tender and torn. But up inside, it was in good repair. And 
it was here that Freda made her stand to fight for Tuesday's orgasm. But 
once her finger slid up into Tuesday's cunt, all Freda had to do was wiggle 
the end joint, and soon Tuesday was on the verge of coming. 

Old professionals can communicate with each other without words. Athletes, 
bankers, lawyers ... they all know each other. Whores are no exception. 

Freda and Tuesday knew exactly how the other felt, and as the time for 
climax came, they gave each other the maximum attention and achieved the 
maximum thrill. 

Of course, both girls were spewing juice from their vaginas, and Freda had 
expelled a small blob of shit as a result of the intensive probe of her 
asshole, but there was no big mess to mop up or lie in, as there might have 
been had a man shot his load into the girls. 

"Oh Jesus, thanks a lot," Freda panted when it was over. "I really needed 
that!" 

"I did too," Tuesday said. "It was the best I've had in a long, long time!" 

Freda laughed. "Guess we ought to turn in and get some rest. You probably 
won't be entertaining any customers for a day or so, but I'll have to be 
back in there tomorrow with my cunt wide open. Fucking is hard work for me. 
I know I'm gonna sleep like a baby. Whew! You really know what to do to an 
asshole. I'm sorry I shit on the bed like I did." 

"Oh, that's all right," Tuesday said easily. 

Soon Freda fell into a deep and peaceful sleep. Her heavy breathing told 
Tuesday that Freda was out for the night, and would awaken in the morning 
refreshed and ready for another day under whatever man she might encounter. 
But Tuesday was not sleepy. She felt strangely keyed up, excited. 

Tuesday thought back over it all, searching her memory for one single 
redeeming feature of her whole existence. Rick! He was the only one who had 
ever really cared. He was the only one who ever had really taken the time to 
understand. All the rest of them . . . they had all used her, despoiled her 
body, abused her mind, and left her when she was of no further use. How ugly 
life was! 

Tuesday put her hands up behind her head. Was her pussy the cause of all her 
trouble? Had she fucked herself into a horrible series of uncontrollable 
events which propelled her downward? She didn't know. All she did know for 
certain was that suddenly she was very tired. Physically tired. Mentally 
exhausted. Whew! 

She didn't feel that she could spread her legs one more time for some 
drunken lout to creep between them with his rusty old cock, poking into her 
pussy. Why the hell should she continue? Well, getting down to the basics, 
why should she continue to live? God knows life had been nothing but one 
searing pain after another. 

She felt somehow cheated. Somewhere, everywhere, there were women no more 
intelligent and certainly no better looking than she, and these women 
enjoyed the security and comfort of a real home with children and a husband. 
Where in God's name had she missed out? It was not by her own plan that she 
found herself tied to a relatively cheap whorehouse. 

She examined her motives. Was she fucking and sucking and allowing herself 
to be tortured for money? Wasn't there an easier and a more satisfying way 
to earn money? There had to be. Yet, it was a habit. No! That was a lie. She 
did it, damn it was hard to act... she did it because she liked it. Somehow 
she liked the idea that her cunt, her tits and her mouth held power over 
men. But what good was the power? It really wasn't worth a pinch of monkey 
shit! 

Tuesday dropped off into a troubled sleep. She dreamed that she was soaring 
through the clouds until she descended and found herself standing in a 
sunlit backyard. 

The place was unfamiliar, and yet there was an air of homeyness about it. 
Tuesday felt at ease. About the borders of the yard were flowers, and she 
noted with some surprise that she was wearing a big apron with giant pockets 
overflowing with clothes pins. 

Well, for God's sake, she was hanging out wash. That's funny, she thought. I 
never washed anything in my life. But there it was, a whole basketful of 
clothes, and there were... diapers? Sure as hell! Wonder whose kid it could 
be? 

"Mommie!" called a small voice which was followed by an equally small boy 
around the corner of the house. "Mommie, come and help! Come and help!" 

The kid had to be about two, no more. And what this "Mommie" shit? Jesus 
Christ! It must be my kid. Tuesday choked as she tried to swallow. A kid. My 
kid! Damn! 

"Come and help!" 

Help who? Daddy? Jesus, wonder what Daddy is like? Tuesday left her 
basketful of clothes and hurried around the corner of the house. The car in 
the drive was new, and there was a man pulling a child's swing outfit out of 
the trunk. When the man stood up it was... BICK! 

"Hi, honey," he called. "Got the swings for Teeny." He kissed Tuesday on the 
cheek, and slipped an arm about her waist. "Let the stuff just lie there. 
I'll work on it after while. Heck. I haven't seen you since this morning." 

Tuesday felt choked up. She nuzzled up close to him. 

Then they were on the veranda. Their son was asleep. 

Bick held his arms out to her. She sat down on his lap. 

Then he kissed her. It was such a warm, gentle kiss that it made tears well 
up inside her. God, how sweet it was to have Rick to love. What a strong, 
wonderful man he was! Somehow, he made everything all right. 

He kissed her again, and as he lowered his head to kiss and lick about her 
ears and neck, he allowed his hands to stray. One found its way up her dress 
where he thrust it into the hot hollow of her crotch, and the other he 
cupped about her left breast. 

Tuesday was not wearing a bra, and his touch through the lightness of her 
dress was almost as stimulating as if he had been right with her, skin to 
skin. Her passion flamed. 

"Oh, Bick!" she whispered against his ear. "I want you so much!" 

"And I want you, too," he said thickly. 

"Let's go inside. Let's go to our bed!" 

"Yeah, I guess we should," he smiled. "Old married people shouldn't be 
having sex on the front porch!" 

They went into the house, hand in hand. Married! God, when had it all 
happened? Tuesday didn't know how, nor could she recall when. But she was 
very certain that she was grateful, and happier than ever in her whole life. 
God had not forgotten. He had somehow brought her and Bick together, and it 
was good to be alive. 

In the bedroom, they stripped off naked, and she was thrilled to see his 
cock was standing straight up when he got his clothes off He still got a 
hard-on thinking about the pussy he was about to get. 

Slowly, she sank back against the softness of the pillows, letting her body 
sink luxuriously into the bed. He lay beside her, wrapping his right leg 
over her body. He smothered her mouth, her neck, and her titties with 
kisses. Flames leaped and burned within her cunt. 

She wanted his meat inside her, and she tried to wiggle herself under him to 
bring his cock closer to the opening of her snatch. She could feel the 
throbbing of his dick, and it was wet and hot against her. Keeping his mouth 
locked on her titty and his knee between her legs, he rolled himself on top. 

Then in a sudden and unexpected move, he jerked his mouth away from her 
nipple, and raised himself with his hands on either side of her body. 

She looked down at his crotch and saw. . . Holy God! 

The cock was gone. There was only a ragged, dripping stump of what had once 
been a dick, and the blood gushed from the open wound. Her eyes swept upward 
to see his face, and it was . . . Lance! My God! 

Lance was on top of her. His dickless body dripping its blood on her stomach 
while her burning pussy called and cried for Rick's cock. 

Tuesday screamed. Piercing the air with the shrill tones, she gasped for 
more breath and screamed again. Then she felt her body being shaken 
violently. 

"Wake up!" Freda commanded. "Hey, wake the hell up! You're having a 
nightmare." 

When Tuesday opened her eyes, she saw Freda hovering over the bed, and she 
heard the order to wake up. It was confusing. She had certainly been in bed 
with Rick. She had felt his kisses, savored the heat of his cock lying next 
to her body. Her pussy was truly wet with the passion fluids. And there was 
the child! Oh, Jesus, and there was the cock stump hanging on Lance's 
bleeding body. 

A dream! A terrible nightmare! 

She reached out and clung to Freda. "Jesus, I had such a terrible dream," 
she sobbed. "I thought I was married and had a child, and.. . "She began to 
cry in earnest. 

Freda laughed a little bitterly. "Married, huh? Well, that's about as bad a 
nightmare as anybody could have. Well, don't worry. It was only a dream and 
it's all over." 

Tuesday began to get control of herself. "Yeah, you're right.. . it is all 
over isn't it? Damn, you know for a minute or two there, I was having such a 
wonderful time. Had my own home. Even had a baby. Ha! That's a laugh. Me, 
with a baby. I'd be a hell of a mother." 

Freda had lighted a cigarette for herself, and she applied the match to 
another which she offered to Tuesday. "I don't know. You might be a hell of 
a lot better mother than some of these church-going, hymn-singing hypocrites 
who show up for preaching on Sunday after they've fucked every man in the 
neighborhood in a drunken swap orgy on Saturday night. They're the lowest 
bitches on earth." 

"I don't know," Tuesday said, puffing on the cigarette. "I doubt if they're 
lower than the trick-shot artist in a whore house;" 

"Bullshit!" Freda said. "At least we're honest. Hell, what's dishonest about 
being a whore? We're just what we claim to be. Those motherfuckers are out 
singing 'Jesus Loves Me' and doing things in private that would turn your 
stomach. Listen, not only that, but you remember that every time a 
respectable housewife gives away a piece of pussy, she's taking the food 
right out of your mouth. You're okay, and so am I. Hell, go back to sleep, 
and don't be so hard on yourself." 

"Yeah. I guess you re right," she said. "We are pretty good folks." 

"We're honest," Freda insisted. 

They both had a long, refreshing sleep, and when Tuesday awoke, Freda was 
already up and out of the room. She looked at the clock. My God! Three 
o'clock in the afternoon. Damn! The first customers would be coming in 
before long. Lots of good, solid, suburban middle-class husbands, pillars of 
strength in their communities, liked to stop off for a quickie on the way 
home. She had to get up and get ready. But her cunt was torn up! She 
couldn't take a five-year-old prick that day. 

So what? A torn cunt does not mean a useless. 

mouth. She could suck 'em when she couldn't fuck 'em. 

She dragged herself out of bed. A quick shower. She felt better. A few 
little efforts at making herself presentable. She was ready. She hoped to 
suck. She would like to get a guy who wanted to have a fart blown in his 
face, or one who wanted to fish a turd out of the john, or maybe to sniff 
her soiled underthings. But she was ready to take anybody. 

After all, she had a certain pride. She was a thorough-going, honest whore. 

Downstairs, she heard the banging of the door, and the clatter of the 
glasses as the evening's socializing was beginning. As she combed her hair, 
she heard the steps creak as the first girls took their men up for the 
early-afternoon fuck. It wouldn't be long. 

"Tuesday? Hey, Tuesday!" the madam's voice floated in from outside the door. 

"Yeah. I'm here. Come on in!" 

"Oh, I'm glad you're okay," the heavy-set proprietress said. "Freda was 
telling me you're feeling poorly from some bastard messing you up last 
night." 

"Naw, I'm ready to go," she said, forcing a smile. 

"Well, I've given you a little extra time, but we have the order set. We got 
the district judge coming in for a blow job. He's right in the middle of a 
big murder trial, and it's the only thing which will settle his nerves. I'm 
letting Sarah have him. 

Then Charlie Franklin called. You know, he's the state senator? He wants to 
fuck straight out. No class. No originality. I'm gonna let Freda get him off 
before she gets her main date, the chairman of the school board who'll be in 
as soon as his wife goes out. He thinks she's fucking a neighbor, but he 
doesn't give enough of a shit to try to find out. So, we'll handle those 
two. 

"After we get them settled, we got the chairman of the ministerial 
association, Reverend Harlow Billingsly. He just wants somebody to sit on 
his face. Don't have to shit; not even fart. Just sit there. Annie doesn't 
like it, but she'll help out because you're kinda hurt. But if we get 
another kook who wants anything out of the ordinary 

"...what then?" 

"...you'll be coming up next, Tuesday." 


End
