Orgy Wife
by Heather Brown


FOREWORD 

In today's society there are many needy people who are forced to rely on the 
generosity of the state to keep body and soul together. 

There is the senior citizen who finds his Social Security check buys less 
and less in an inflation-prone society. There is the abandoned mother who 
finds that welfare checks and food stamps are barely enough to sustain and 
stabilize a family. There is the severely ill worker who finds that Medicare 
cannot meet soaring medical costs. 

Edna O'Brien is a woman who finds herself trapped in a vicious cycle of 
poverty. Forced to live in a housing project whose squalor she detests, she 
is further frustrated by the shackles that tie her to her brutish husband, a 
man who abuses her both verbally and physically, and who callously 
disregards her sexual needs. In desperation, Edna turns to other men, both 
to fulfill the cravings of her body and to allow her temporary escape from 
her private hell, until she has turned her life into an orgiastic 
merry-go-round of lust. 

ORGY WIFE-the tale of a woman determined to set herself free, and the 
lustful path she takes to her goal. Her story is a reminder that, for our 
society, Utopia is still a long way off. 

-The Publisher 


 CHAPTER ONE 

I was in such a damned rut. I knew it was all because of the housing 
project, the lousy housing project, where the sun shines last. 

The project has the only buildings in the whole damn city this tall. Ten 
stories. Nobody else is stacked like light bulbs into these boxes we live 
in; but we're poor, so it's all right with the people who run things. 

The first thing I always do in the morning is take out the garbage. If I 
don't, the roaches take over our four dinky rooms. Of course today the trash 
was mostly empty beer cans because yesterday had been Sunday, and Eddie had 
been home all day. Football. He sat in front of that damn television set all 
day long watching football, swilling down can after can of beer. 

Eddie's getting fat. He's getting this big belly. You'd think a guy who's a 
garbage man would get plenty of exercise and would be able to keep his 
weight down. But not Eddie. Since he was promoted to driving the truck, he's 
managed to grow a spare tire around his middle and a cluster of hemorrhoids. 

Living here takes it all out of me. I've got two kids, and I've got to admit 
they take care of themselves, even though Johnny's only twelve and Janie's 
just ten. They get up by themselves, pour their own bowls of cereal for 
breakfast, and go off to school by themselves. 

It's not just me. Everybody's kids are like that in the projects. That's 
just the kind of place it is. Like I said, it takes it out of you. 

I finished stuffing the beer cans and other garbage into the trash cans and 
started walking slowly back across the brown grass towards the building in 
which I live. But I didn't feel like going back inside. It was warm outside, 
but the apartment still hadn't warmed up from the fall night. Anyway, it was 
depressing inside. The kids would do anything to stay outside, and right now 
I sort of felt the same way. 

I walked over and sat down on some steps. The first thing I noticed was how 
hard and cold the cement felt against my ass. I remembered that I wasn't 
wearing anything under my robe, and that there was only some cheap, worn-out 
corduroy between my skin and the step. I could feel goose bumps rising 
instantly on my thighs from sitting there, and a tightening in my crotch 
from the shock of the cold cement. 

Sitting there, feeling the clenching in my loins, I became aware of what was 
between my legs. The awareness of my cunt-immediately set me to thinking 
about one of my other dissatisfactions in life. Here I was 27 years old, 
supposedly in the prime of my life, and I might as well have been 87. My 
pussy seemed as useless these days as if it belonged to an old woman in a 
nursing home. 

The fact of the matter was that I wasn't getting any cock. And believe me I 
wanted it. Eddie was only interested in two things when he got home from 
work: drinking and sleeping, in that order. Nothing ever happened in the 
bedroom. He just snored and farted the way he does, while I lie beside him 
wishing desperately that someone would fuck me. 

Oh, well, I thought, I can't spend all day sitting out here on the steps in 
my bathrobe daydreaming. I got up and started listlessly back into the 
building, drearily anticipating another boring day. 

We live on the ninth floor, so I headed for the elevator, hoping it wouldn't 
go on the blink as it periodically does. 

When I got inside and the door eased closed, the first thing I noticed was a 
glistening, crumpled object thrown in the corner. I leaned over to see what 
it was, and as I reached out to touch it, a shock of recognition went 
through me. 

It was a rubber. Used of course. It was stuck in a congealed glob of sperm. 
Somebody had been fucking in the elevator. 

I suppose I should have been disgusted. But I wasn't. The idea of two people 
fucking in the elevator excited me. Why not? There was nothing else to do in 
this place. I wished somebody would fuck me in the elevator. Or anyplace, if 
the truth were known, although I wasn't out and out admitting it to myself 
at the moment. 

I don't know what came over me. Actually, I guess I do in retrospect, but at 
the time I suppose I was still trying to kid myself. Anyway, I reached over 
and actually picked up the used rubber. As I did, a moist glob of sperm slid 
out of it like spit. 

I looked at the rubber and worked it squishily against my skin. In my mind I 
imagined it filled, standing straight out with a throbbing prick in it. 

My mind saw the imaginary cock inside a spread pussy and pumping in and out. 
There were no bodies or faces attached to the organs I visualized, just cock 
and cunt fucking in my head. My mind's eye somehow went inside of the cunt 
and I could see the pink walls clenching the thrusting prick until the head 
of it swelled and it spewed forth globs of rich, sticky jizz until the 
reservoir of the rubber was filled and bulging with the milky discharge. 

Back to reality I looked at the still damp rubber I had found on the 
elevator floor and held it to my nose and sniffed it. The sweet smell of sex 
was still on it. 

I'm sure that if I had stopped to think about what I did next, I would have 
recoiled in shame. But I was too hot to think. Instead, I unbuttoned the 
front of my robe so that it fell apart and my tits and my pussy were 
visible. I looked down at my body and imagined it laid out with the thighs 
spread, inviting somebody, anybody, to fuck me. 

Without realizing what I was doing, I took the moist rubber and pressed it 
to my crotch, rubbing it against the now drooling lips of my pussy while I 
used the other hand to caress my tits, massaging my erect nipples. 

As I felt myself up, I looked around the walls of the elevator. Graffiti was 
all over them, and almost all of it was obscene. I loved it. It turned me on 
even more. 

"If you can't fuck it, suck it." 

"If you want your cock sucked, call Gloria. 253-1158." 

"If you want a ten-inch cock up your ass, be here at 1:00 this Friday." 

There were drawings of people fucking and eating each other out. They were 
crude and childish, except for one. I moved closer to it and studied it as I 
continued to work on my throbbing tits and cunt, a finger all the way up my 
pussy by now. It was a drawing of a couple fucking. It was just like what I 
had imagined a few moments ago-no faces or bodies, just genitals doing what 
they're supposed to do. 

It had been drawn in such detail you could see the seam going down the 
middle of the cock, standing out as the shaft disappeared and was swallowed 
by the clutching, hairy cunt. Moisture oozed over the tight lips of the 
pussy and bathed the prick. The balls were tight and hairy. 

With one hand still pressing the soggy rubber against my drenched pussy as I 
finger-fucked myself, I reached from my tits with the other hand and touched 
the drawing as though it were two real people. I could almost feel the 
pulsing warmth of what the picture represented, and had it in my head that 
the one thing in the world I would like to do right now was pull that prick 
out of the cunt and wrap my lips around it so it would come in my mouth and 
I could swallow the onslaught of hot, sticky sperm. 

Suddenly a bell rang and I was back to reality. The elevator was signaling 
it was the ninth floor. The door opened onto the hall and there I was 
feeling myself up and finger-fucking myself. What if someone had been there 
waiting for the elevator? Who cares, I was only interested in one thing now, 
and that was getting myself off. If there was no one around to stick it in 
me, I'd fuck myself. 

Not bothering to close my robe, I dashed from the elevator to my apartment 
and let myself in, being so frantic to feel my pussy explode that I didn't 
even bother to close the door behind me as I ran into the bedroom. 

I threw the robe off me and then went over to the bed and started pulling it 
towards the dresser. There was a mirror on the bureau and I wanted to see 
myself in it. If nobody else was going to enjoy the sight of my slobbering 
cunt, engorged with blood, frothing to come, then I was. 

When I got the bed in place, I lay down, propping my hips up on a pillow so 
I could see everything as I spread my legs as wide as they would go. 

It had been a long time since I had stopped to appreciate myself. At 27 I 
was still in my youth, and my body was hard and sexy. As I looked into the 
mirror through the valley of my parted legs, I saw in its full glory the 
totality of my pussy, and the sight of my pulsing cunt in its prime 
accelerated my hotness until I was panting. 

A married woman almost never stops to look at her cunt. She just takes it 
for granted that it's there for the benefit of her husband, and lets him 
stick his cock inside it when he feels like it, while she tries to forget 
that it is there between her legs waiting to be fucked, the rest of the 
time. 

Now, as I gazed at it in its full bloom, I realized that my cunt was 
beautiful. It was framed by dark curly hair that was both soft and vital at 
the same time. But the hair, profuse as it was, didn't obscure a thing, just 
highlighting the virtues of my pussy. 

Starting near my asshole, a slit, with glistening lips, curved upward 
towards the lower part of my belly. I looked at my pussy-lips and touched 
them with wonder, feeling them pulse under my fingers. I knew that in some 
women the pussy-lips were thin, and the cunt looked like a cut in swollen 
flesh. But my pussy-lips were thick and fleshy, and when cunt juice spilled 
from inside of me, as it did now, they looked like they were drooling the 
way a baby's mouth does. 

I pulled the outer lips of my cunt open. The inside of my pussy was smooth 
and meaty, almost pulpy. It looked like the inside of a mouth. At the top of 
the mouth of my cunt was a little button of pink flesh. My clit. It was 
small, but noticeably stiff and sticking out, protruding from the top of my 
frothing slit like a miniature prick. I was so horny that I wished it were a 
real cock growing out of me so I could feverishly grab ahold of it and stuff 
it into my cunt and fuck myself. 

I continued to examine and manipulate myself, feeling lewder by the moment. 
I pulled the lips of my pussy even further apart and peered into the 
reflection of their pared opening in the mirror. 

The soft red interior of my cunt sloped down and inward from the hole out of 
which I peed to a hole near the bottom of the slit. I shuddered as I worked 
my finger into my fucking canal, knowing that it could take anything from a 
pinkie-finger to a 26-ounce Seven-Up bottle, something I'd tried more than 
once when I was starting to grow up and experiment with my body. 

As I gazed hornily at myself it struck me how close my fuck-hole was to my 
bung. Shoving my finger farther up my cunt, I added another one up my 
asshole, and when I pinched them I could feel them touching through the 
thin, membranous partition. 

The inside of my cunt was always moist, but when I was turned on like I was 
now, it was like a swamp. The sound of the squishing inside my box was so 
loud that it almost drowned out the moans of ecstasy coming from my mouth. 

I guess the combination of my panting and the slurping of my pussy is what 
kept me from hearing the footsteps. It was easy for him to come into the 
apartment without being heard, because, after all, I had left the door open 
and he could just walk in. Anyway, I was very busy. 

I didn't notice him until up in the corner of the mirror I saw his face, the 
rest of the mirror being taken up by the image of my steaming cunt. 

Should I have been embarrassed? I don't know. How can you think of something 
like that when you're on the verge of coming, when all you've got on your 
mind is coming? 

It wasn't until he cleared his throat that it really hit me that someone was 
in the apartment with me. When it finally occurred to me, I closed my legs 
like a vise, capturing my still probing hand between my throbbing thighs. I 
used my free hand to cover myself with the sheet, and was grateful that I 
had been too lazy to make the bed yet. 

He had backed out of the bedroom by now and said from the living room, "Mrs. 
O'Brien, I'd like to talk to you if you, ahem, have the time." 

"Sure, sure," I said nervously. "Just give me a minute to get dressed." 

I reached over the edge of the bed and found my robe on the floor and put it 
on while I was still under the sheets, as if I were the most modest creature 
in the world. Here this strange man had just seen me getting myself off in 
front of the mirror, and now we were both going to pretend that nobody had 
seen or done anything. 

When I had my robe on and buttoned, I got out of bed and went into the 
living room. The man waiting there was middle-aged and not bad-looking in a 
square sort of way. He was dressed in a suit, something you never saw in the 
projects, with one exception. 

"I'm Mr. Collins from the Housing Authority," he said. 

He didn't have to tell me where he was from. I'd figured it out the minute 
I'd seen he was wearing a suit. 

"What can I do for you?" I said, trying to sound like I was in control 
enough of the situation that we could both put what he had seen in the 
bedroom behind us. At least at the moment that's what I thought I wanted. 

"Well, frankly, Mrs. O'Brien, we've had a complaint against you. I want to 
give you a chance to explain the accusations against you, because, as you 
know, if we determine that a complaint is valid, it goes on your record as 
points against you. And if your record shows an excess of points against 
you, then I'm afraid you'll have to move." 

What a stiff, I thought. Maybe I didn't want him to behave as if nothing had 
happened, after all. I didn't expect him to chase me around the room, but I 
felt a little let down that he didn't seem at least a little steamed up from 
walking in on me and seeing all I had. 

What I actually said, though, was, "So what'd I do?" Then I walked over and 
sat down on the couch. 

He was still standing and said, "It's the refuse containers, Mrs. O'Brien. 
You've been putting beer cans in them," he said gravely as if he had just 
accused me of a class-A felony. N 

"Well, they're trash, aren't they?" I replied, I thought sensibly. 

"Theoretically, yes, they are," he said. "However, as you should be aware, 
we do not allow them to be thrown in a loose, uncontained fashion into the 
project refuse containers." 

"I don't understand," I said, trying to avoid trouble. 

"The Housing Authority feels that it gives the projects and the people who 
live in them a bad name if the refuse containers are filled with alcoholic 
beverage containers." 

My restraint wasn't going to hold out. "Why? Are you afraid the garbage men 
are going to talk behind our backs?" I blurted out. "Lemme tell you 
something, my old man's a garbage man himself, and I guarantee you he 
doesn't give a shit how much beer anybody drinks. Probably because nobody 
drinks more of it than he does. I mean, my God, where do you suppose those 
beer cans I'm putting in the trash cans are coming from? My kids aren't 
drinking them." 

"Now, Mrs. O'Brien, you'll have to watch your language, please," 

"Jesus Christ!" 

"I'll pretend I didn't hear that." 

"If there's something wrong with your ears, then try this," I cried angrily 
as I stood up defiantly and thrust out my hand, flipping him the finger. 

"Mrs. O'Brien, really," he huffed. "It's people like you who give the 
projects a bad name." 

"What gives the projects a bad name is that living here is like being in 
prison," I retorted, giving vent to feelings that had been stored up in me 
for some time. 

"If that's the way you feel, then I'm sure we can arrange to have you and 
your family ... uh ... shall we say, released," Mr. Collins said as though 
he were the warden of the prison I was talking about. 

"That'd be just peachy with me!" I screamed without thinking. "Do I get a 
new suit and a five-dollar bill?" 

Then, suddenly, it hit me. If he kicked us out, where would we go? Sure, if 
it were just me, on my own, I'd have been out of this dump a long time ago. 
But there were four of us, and two of them were children. Where would we 
find the money to move? 

"Ah ... look ... look, Mr. Collins," I stammered, sitting back down in a 
heap, not even bothering to make sure my robe concealed my upper thighs. "I 
guess I just got excited and said a lot of things I don't mean. I'm sorry. 
Give me a break, huh?" 

"I don't know," he said sternly, like a priest you've just stunned with 
something really rotten at confession. 

"We're just poor working people trying to get by," I tried to explain to 
him. "I mean, we're not perfect, but we're trying as hard as we can. My 
husband's got a job. I mean we're not on welfare or anything." 

"Then that's all the more reason you should keep a civil tongue in your 
head," he said, his voice dripping with superiority. "You should know better 
if you claim you're not riff-raff." 

"You know how it is," I lamely said, shrugging my shoulders. 

"How would it be if everyone talked to Housing Authority officials the way 
you have?" he lectured me. "It would be chaos. Anarchy!" 

"Look," I pleaded, "what can I do?" 

I held my hands out, begging him to go easy. And as I did so, I leaned 
forward, unintentionally causing the hem of my robe to ride up even more on 
my thighs. 

I wasn't aware of what was going on at first. But when I saw the expression 
on his face, and then took a quick glimpse down at how exposed I was, I 
realized that he was looking at my cunt. 

I looked up from my lap, but instead of returning my eyes to his reddening 
face, I looked straight ahead. At his fly. There was no question about it; 
it was bulging. His dick was hard under there, and I had made it that way. 

All of a sudden, the ugly conversation we had just had faded from my head. 
My mind skipped back to the wantonness I had been experiencing when he had 
come upon me in the bedroom. Only now it was abruptly even more intense than 
it had been when I was writhing on the bed because the last piece of the 
puzzle was available: a cock! A hot, throbbing cock that was obviously 
straining to get free of its restraints and plunge into something soft, 
warm, and hairy. 

And, believe me, at that moment the only thing I wanted in the world was 
that man's prick pounding like a jackhammer in and out of my steaming, 
lathering pussy. 

"Listen," I cooed, "something tells me we can work this out so that we'll 
both be satisfied. Know what I mean?" 

I winked, and very obviously wiggled my hips so the bottom of the robe slid 
out from under me and bunched loosely around my waist. Just so nothing would 
be left to chance, I spread my legs and gave him a direct view of my open, 
sopping pussy. I could feel the lips pull apart with a wet smack as I pulled 
apart my thighs and gave him a full shot. 

He stood there dumbfounded like the village idiot or something. These 
Housing Authority clowns were really slow, I thought, and realized it was up 
to me to force the issue to the ultimate. By now he was too turned on to 
resist, but I was going to have to do all the work. Making sure he still had 
a perfect view of my throbbing pussy, I leaned forward and ran my hand over 
the bulge in his pants. 

It was working. His cock almost leaped out and tore the fabric. I could feel 
it straining to be grasped by something with sex written all over it. 

I lost no time in pulling down his zipper and reaching inside for his prick. 
It met my hand immediately. It didn't take much to get it out in the open, 
and when it was, his cock exceeded my wildest expectation. This guy may have 
been the biggest square in the world, but that sure didn't stop him from 
being hung with about the-biggest cock I'd ever seen. The head of it alone 
seemed to take up at least three inches. And it was solid pink meat. God 
only knew how much juicy hot sperm was stored up, waiting to fly, in his 
balls. 

Well, maybe God didn't know, but I was determined to find out. I pulled that 
prick completely out of his pants, balls and all-and they were the size of 
eggs-and began sucking on it for all I was worth. It was delicious. 

Collins was still standing there like a dummy when I wrapped my lips around 
his cock and pulled it all the way into my throat, but not for long. As hot 
as I was, I think I could have stuck a dead man's prick into my mouth and 
done what I was doing to Collins and the corpse would have responded. 

Collins began undulating his hips in the classic fucking reflex, sending his 
prick even deeper into my throat. The contractions of my esophagus and mouth 
must have felt like a super cunt to him. By the way he started moaning and 
groaning it was clear that my greedy, sucking mouth, my voracious tongue, 
and my nibbling teeth were the best things that had ever happened to his 
cock. And what a shame he had to wait until now, with the kind of tool he 
had. 

The head of his cock was ramming into my throat now like a pile driver. I 
knew for sure that I was going to have one hell of a sore throat tomorrow, 
but this was worth it. However, as succulent as the taste of his monster 
prick was in my sucking mouth, I had been starved for sex too long to pass 
up what I really wanted. And that was a brutal, hot fuck thrown in me. A 
cock pounding between my legs so that it wrung my pussy practically inside 
out. 

I removed his twitching rod from my mouth, moving my lips and tongue over 
the head of it with one last soggy caress.' I continued to rub its shaft 
with my hands while I positioned the lower part of my body so he would have 
no doubt as to what I wanted him to do to me next. 

I spread my legs so far apart I could feel a gush of molten cream escape out 
of the bottom of my cunt. The skin between my legs stretched so much that it 
stung, but I knew that my pussy would have to be like a tunnel to 
accommodate the giant prick vibrating in my hands. 

I reached up with my parted legs and hooked my ankles around his waist and 
pulled him down towards me. He was still mute, but now was overcome not by 
embarrassment but by lust. Why else would he have fallen forward so readily 
and buried his head in my tits after ripping open the top of my robe with 
his rough hands? 

I guided his prick into my boiling cunt and felt it slip into the gooey 
canal to its hilt, his massive balls pounding against the upturned cheeks of 
my ass. 

From the position in which we were fucking, with, my legs now locked over 
his shoulders and my back on the couch, I could look at my crotch and see 
everything. His huge, long prick made luscious slurping noises as it glided 
in and out of my lathering, clutching hole. My cunt throbbed in rhythm with 
his maddening strokes as I met his every thrust with one of my own, our 
pelvises grinding together, his pubic hair scratching sensuously against my 
screamingly erect clit. 

I had been waiting so long for something like this I couldn't contain my 
excitement. "Fuck me! Fuck me harder!" I cried in passion. "Stick that big 
prick in me! All the way! More! MORE!" 

One thing about Mr. Collins, he did as he was told. I guess that came from 
his training working as a flunky for the Housing Authority: Do what you're 
told and don't make waves. Except that he was making waves. Big, rippling 
waves that pounded through my body, causing my steaming, twitching groin to 
collide repeatedly with his as we ground each other into a state of 
unparalleled, lustful frenzy. 

Then it happened. It started somewhere in the recesses of my cunt and then 
spread throughout the center of my body. It felt like I had been shot 
between the legs by a high-powered bullet and that I was going into 
convulsions. But the high-powered bullet was in reality a ten-inch cock that 
was reaming me out. Yes, I was coming! 

How long had it been? Weeks, maybe months, I guess. Because even when Eddie 
fucked me, nothing usually happened to me any more. He just climbed on top 
of me, grunted a few times, shot his wad, and rolled over and went to sleep; 
he probably didn't even remember it the next day. As for me, I wound up 
being more aware of his big belly on top of me than his cock inside of me. 

But this? My God! This guy's prick was up so high and hard and tight inside, 
of me that I could feel it ramming away at the end of my cunt, fighting to 
invade my womb and totally fill my body with its sheer, pulsating power. I 
could feel it going higher and higher into me as the wave spasms started 
taking over my body and the concentric rings of orgasm overtook me. 

Never had I been so grateful that a woman can come more than once without 
resting, that I was capable of coming repeatedly. Because that's what was 
happening now. It seemed as though all the orgasms I had missed out on over 
the past months were happening to me at once. But I knew, as great as each 
successive one was, the ultimate thrill was yet to happen. 

I could have come all day the way I was being fucked, but the crowning glory 
would only occur when I had all of his cock trapped inside of me and brought 
him to the ultimate, and that meant an onslaught of steaming, sticky sperm 
sloshing around in my cunt, coating my insides. Each orgasmic spasm was just 
a step to that pinnacle, and finally I could sense that we were on the verge 
of it. 

If possible, his enormous tool stiffened inside of my hole even more, 
distending my cunt with its swollen fury. The steel-hard shaft coursed with 
maddening friction between the slimy clenched lips of my cunt, pulling them 
in and then out, in and out. Then, as his dick hardened to the ultimate, he 
drove it into me like a golden spike and filled the room with a cry that 
sounded like a wounded animal. 

Instantly I could feel the thick discharge of jizz spurting up my twat. 
Never had I felt a load of cum that was so copious and hot. It seemed to be 
boiling. The sensation of all that molten sperm taking over the cavern of my 
pussy drove me wild, the muscles in my body becoming like taut springs as I 
wrapped my legs around him as though I were a professional wrestler. 

Maddening pleasure coursed through me like an electric current, the high 
voltage from his cock searing through the outlet of my supercharged pussy. 
Ecstasy bathed me and racked my body. The springs in my body tightened even 
further, and then, suddenly, snapped. It was over. He had stopped pumping. 
He was spent and I was bathed in the sensual afterglow of a perfect fuck. 

He pulled his prick out of me and I looked down and saw that it was starting 
to subside. It was beet red from the violent clenching and stimulation from 
my tight cunt. It glistened from being bathed in its own creamy discharge. 

I looked down between my legs and gazed dreamily at my spent pussy. It gaped 
open, a red, frothing, hairy gash, the lips hanging in exhaustion, a steady 
stream of milky jizz lazily drooling out of my throbbing crack. 

After a few moments of loving appreciation of my cunt that had served me so 
well, I looked up at the man who had given me what I wanted when I needed it 
the most. I was so grateful I would have agreed to anything he wanted at 
that point, even putting Eddie's beer cans where they were supposed to go. 

But Collins was back to being a bureaucrat from the Housing Authority again. 
He looked flustered and embarrassed as he hurriedly stuffed his now crumpled 
dick back into his pants. I suddenly felt the way I would've if I had 
seduced a choir boy. 

He started clearing his throat once he had his cock completely back inside 
his pants and his fly zipped, and smoothed out the wrinkles in his clothing. 
It was such a turn-off I abruptly sat up, closing my thighs tightly on my 
squishing box, and pulling my robe down over my legs. 

He finally spoke. "Now, Mrs. O'Brien, about your unauthorized use of the 
refuse containers." 

The bastard! He was going to pretend none of it had happened. I was stunned. 

"I could just give you a warning," he continued, "but I'm afraid that 
wouldn't be fair to either of us because it wouldn't have the effect on you 
that we desire. Therefore, I'm going to enter ten points against you on your 
housing record so you'll realize that we mean what we say and obey the 
rules. Believe me, I'm only doing this for your own good. You'll thank me 
later." 

The turd! 

"Listen, buster," I hissed at him, "you can pretend that nothing happened in 
here today. You can even drive it out of your mind. But there's one memory 
of it you're going to have a lot of trouble getting rid of." 

He looked at me as if I were from outer space. 

"The cum stain on your pants," I pointed out triumphantly. "What're you 
going to do about that, Mr. Collins?" 

He cleared his throat again, and acted as though we were actually carrying 
on the same conversation, saying, "I told you what I'm going to do, Mrs. 
O'Brien. I'm going to enter ten points on your housing record. And you're 
fortunate to get off so easily. As for the unauthorized refuse ... the, uh, 
beer cans ... I suggest you find a way to dispose of them separately. Or 
give up consuming so much beer, which might be the more advisable 
alternative if you wish to remain a tenant in good standing." 

"How about if I just dump them in some other apartment's trash cans?" I 
challenged him. 

"I wouldn't advise that," he said ominously. "We have people watching. I'm 
going now, Mrs. O'Brien," he said. "I don't think there's anything further 
to be said at this point. Now, you just remember, we'll be watching you. And 
Mrs. O'Brien ...." 

"Yes?" 

"Please try harder to be a good citizen." 

The second he was out the door I slammed it behind him and stormed into the 
kitchen and ripped open the refrigerator looked for some of Eddie's beer. I 
drank four cans of it in twenty minutes. Enough until I was high enough to 
stop shaking. 

 CHAPTER TWO 

Boy, what a dope I was if I thought getting fucked would really change 
anything. First of all, that son of a bitch Collins had wound up putting ten 
points against us on our housing record, and, as if that wasn't enough, now 
I had to dream up something to do with the damn beer cans. 

After he had finished screwing me, that prick Collins, with all his damn 
snotty Housing Authority superiority, had managed to destroy whatever inner 
contentment I had felt, and had reduced me to the same nervous wreck I had 
been before I ever saw that ten inches of cock pointing from between his 
legs. 

To make it worse, when Eddie came home, he was in an even shittier mood than 
usual, especially when he found out I had drunk two-thirds of his last 
six-pack and he was going to have to go get some more. 

Then, if that wasn't enough, when the kids finally dragged themselves into 
the apartment, I could see right away that my ten-year-old, Janie, was sick. 
Her face was flushed, her nose running, and when I put my hand on her 
forehead it was obvious she had a fever. 

That meant she would have to stay home from school tomorrow and I'd have to 
take care of her. 

It wasn't of course that I don't love Janie. But right now I didn't feel up 
to taking care of anybody else. I was having enough trouble keeping myself 
together. 

The final straw came when Eddie got back from the grocery store. My nerves 
were shot from trying to control the kids. My nerves were shot from trying 
each other as usual, and when I got a whiff of Eddie, I felt my anger 
rising. 

He smelled like garbage as he sat there stinking up the kitchen, but as 
usual showed no inclination to do anything about it. All of his other faults 
weren't bad enough; he had to be a garbage man who refused to bathe more 
than once a week. Why, I thought, on top of everything else, do I have to 
put up with the place where I live smelling like the inside of a garbage can 
because my husband's too lazy to take a bath? 

So I just came out and said what I thought, something I almost never do. 
"Hey, Eddie," I erupted, "why don't you take a bath?" 

That did it. Within minutes we were screaming at each other at the top of 
our lungs, calling each other names and insulting each other in every way 
possible. Something had to give, and something finally did. 

Crack! He caught me right across the mouth with his open hand. If he'd used 
his fist, I'd have been at the dentist's the next morning getting fitted for 
a set of dentures. 

I could feel the warm salty taste of blood well in my mouth as his blow 
drove me to the floor. "Tough, Eddie, tough, that's what you are," I hissed 
through my blood-smeared mouth. "That's why you beat up women. And 
brilliant. That's why you drive a garbage truck. And always will, unless 
they fire you for being too smart for the job." 

"No, you're wrong, you're wrong. I gotta be a dummy or I wouldn't be stuck 
with a cunt like you!" he screamed at me and tried to kick me while I was 
still down. 

I grabbed ahold of his thrusting foot and twisted it with all my strength. 
He tipped over to the side and fell with a thud to the floor. While he was 
fumbling around in surprise, I got to my feet and ran across the living 
room, determined to get the hell out of there. I opened the door and dashed 
out into the hall. 

In the hall I raced for the stairway, so charged up to get out of the place 
that I didn't notice the nine flights. 

When I got to the bottom, I snuck out the laundry entrance to avoid running 
into Eddie if he had somehow caught the elevator and beaten me downstairs. I 
was determined that I wasn't going back to that hell-on-earth until later 
when I was sure that the big tub of guts was finally conked out. 

The only problem was what I was going to do until then. I didn't have any 
money with me, or any transportation. Since I was in the projects, I was 
equidistant from everywhere; in other words, in the middle of nowhere. 

If I tried walking around, I'd be taking my life in my hands because it was 
well-known that there was no more dangerous place to be at night than on the 
streets of the projects. 

After thinking about it for a while, I decided that I'd rather take my 
chances with whoever might be roaming around in the dark outside than going 
back up to the apartment and confronting Eddie. The way I looked at, there 
was a chance something might happen to me outside, but inside it was a 
certainty I'd get the shit beat out of me. 

I walked around aimlessly, trying to find something that would draw my 
interest. There was nothing of course. I walked close to the buildings, and 
eventually found myself by the northern building. 

I got bored walking in front of the buildings, so for a change I decided to 
go around in back of the northern building. There was nothing back there 
except for weeds, but at least it was something different. 

As I sort of half walked and half stumbled along the unfamiliar terrain, I 
noticed that there were a few lights on the ground floor of the building. As 
bored as I was, my curiosity as to what was going on inside was naturally 
stimulated. Then, when I accidentally fell, and came up in front of one of 
the lighted windows, my interest was even more heightened. 

I didn't look through the window on purpose at first. It was just there when 
I picked myself up after falling. But what I saw, accidentally at first, 
kept my eyes riveted purposefully to what was going on inside. 

A boy, apparently in his early teens, was sitting on the toilet. But he 
wasn't using it for what it was intended because the seat was down. I could 
see his pants and underpants where he had thrown them on the floor as he sat 
there nude from the waist down, wearing only a thin T-shirt on top. 

Should I have been turned on by a thirteen-or fourteen-year-old boy? Would I 
have normally been? 

I don't know. But the way I had been feeling lately made me a sucker for it 
right now. 

It had been years since I had seen a young boy on the brink of manhood 
without any clothes on. My older brother was probably the last one, and I 
hadn't had quite the interests I had now when I'd seen him naked. 

There was no doubt what the boy sitting on the toilet was up to. His young, 
thin cock was standing straight out like a graceful pole, the way they only 
can when they're that young and so full of energy. 

He had one hand cradling his young balls, while the other one elaborately 
stroked the long pink shaft of his prick. I had never actually seen a male, 
man or boy, jack off, and to say that I was excited would be an 
understatement. I felt an intense throbbing between my legs that must have 
been almost as much as the boy inside was experiencing as his hips undulated 
from the manipulation of his cock. 

I studied his body, lustfully noticing the brief patch of pubic hair just at 
the root of his prick and the smooth skin everyplace else. There was no way 
I couldn't help imagine what it would be like to have that wholesome-looking 
tool shoved up my cunt. 

There was something so innocent about a young boy sitting in the bathroom 
beating his meat while his parents were probably in the next room watching 
television. I wondered what he would do once he finally came-how he would 
dispose of the sperm-and how much of it there would be. 

I soon got my answer. His hips started bucking even more uncontrollably as 
he accelerated his stroking, his fingers now going from his balls all the 
way over the head of his cock and back down again, his other hand squeezing 
his balls. I thought I could hear him moan as his prick shot up in the air 
and a cascade of milky jizz spurted at least six inches in the air from the 
knob. 

After a few more spasms he sat there exhausted on the toilet seat and caught 
his breath. Then I distinctly heard a voice calling to him from the other 
side of the bathroom door. "Jerry," was the name it seemed to be saying. It 
sounded like a woman's voice. It must have been his mother wanting to know 
what he was doing in there. 

The boy quickly withdrew his hand from his spent prick and jumped up and 
grabbed for his pants, frantically trying to wipe the cum off his legs with 
a towel before he buttoned them. 

He didn't have a chance to finish before she barged in on him. She didn't 
have to be very intelligent to figure out what was going on. The evidence 
was all over the place. He still didn't have his pants completely buttoned,' 
he still had a towel with sperm on it in his hand, and his underwear was 
still wadded on the floor. 

"You ... you little pervert!" she screamed at him. She slapped him across 
the face and hauled him out of the bathroom, yelling, "Your father will want 
to hear about this!" 

I looked at the now empty bathroom sadly. It didn't seem fair; it didn't 
make sense. Here he'd been alone in the bathroom, not bothering anyone, 
giving himself some innocent pleasure. Before his mother took it into her 
head to invade his privacy, his parents had probably been watching some 
crime show on television where people were killing and torturing each other 
right and left, and enjoying every minute of it. Yet, the boy was the one 
whose actions were disapproved of. No, it didn't make sense to me. 

I averted my gaze from the bathroom window and started to resume my lonely 
walk, more depressed than ever. But I never got a chance to take a step. 

Suddenly my air was cut off by some powerful force slamming against my 
windpipe. I started to scream, but all that came out was a gurgle as I 
fought for breath. Then I was painfully straightened up as my neck was 
yanked back and a knee shoved painfully into the small of my back, arching 
my body as though I had just been caught in a trap. 

"Okay, bitch," a rough voice growled hotly into my ear. "Is this gonna be 
easy for both of us, or are you gonna fight me? Believe me, cunt, one way or 
the other, I'm gonna enjoy it." 

My assailant relaxed his grip around my neck long enough so I could reply. I 
started to say, "What's this all about?", and then abruptly realized all too 
well what was going on. The warnings about being out after dark in the 
projects were coming true for me. 

"You're going to rape me, aren't you?" I said incredulously. 

I had known the projects at night were dangerous and that any woman who 
walked alone in them ran the risk of being assaulted, but now that it was 
happening to me I couldn't bring myself to accept it. 

"Please ... please...." I pleaded with my unseen attacker. 

"Please what?" he chuckled in an evil laugh. "Please let you go, or please 
fuck you?" 

Even in my terror I paused to reflect how unbelievable it was that a man 
like this could suggest that his victim would actually welcome his cock. 

"Please let me go, please let me go," I begged. 

"Sure, cunt, sure," he said. "After, of course, I've rammed my prick up into 
your guts and come all over your face." 

There were no words after that. He spun me around, and as I turned to face 
him, clipped me in the jaw with a right-hand punch. It didn't drive me into 
unconsciousness, just made me woozy enough so that I couldn't fight back. 

He pushed me to the ground, the dirt scraping my elbows. Looming over me, he 
unloosened his pants and let them drop, revealing an enormous shaft of a 
prick emerging in a throbbing column from a thatch of dark, unruly hair, the 
end of his cock an angry red knob obviously bent on destruction. 

He fondled his dick as he hovered over me, his prick seeming to grow even 
bigger under his prodding. In my mind I could see it tearing into my 
defenseless cunt and ripping me apart. 

I lay weak and helpless on my back. So weak and terrified was I that the 
only defense I could think of was to draw my legs together, forcing my knees 
against each other as hard as I could. 

But it did no good. He separated my legs with a kick to my knees, splaying 
them, and sending my cotton house dress up to my hips during the action. 

I moaned in agony and fear as I lay back with my legs parted. I could feel 
the cool night air mottling my thighs, which were bare and shaking. My 
crotch was covered only by the thin fabric of my panties, and I could feel 
the mouth of my cunt straining against the flimsy covering. 

Although still conscious, I seemed to lose all voluntary control of my body, 
and felt my pussy suddenly dampening with hot, moist juice which drenched my 
panties and ran onto my inner thighs. 

As I stared transfixed at the enormous cock pulsating ominously above me, I 
could feel the nipples of my tits, as though they had a mind of their own, 
become erect as marbles and chafe against the inside of my bra. 

My assailant moved towards me. He leaned over and grabbed the hem of my 
dress and roughly pulled it over my hips, binding my torso. Leaving the 
dress in a position so my hands and arms and head were covered, he began to 
work fast. 

With the dress pulled up so far, my bra was completely visible, my tits 
swelling involuntarily underneath it, the erect nipples making hard points 
on the outside of the cups. He grabbed the bra-by the elastic between my 
tits and tore it off. My boobs fell free, the night air caressing my 
pulsating nipples. His hands roughly squeezed my tits, and then he lowered 
his head and began wetly lapping them with his rough tongue, his hot breath 
inundating my upper body and making me perspire. 

Despite the indignity of the ordeal I was enduring, a curious sensation 
started to occur which I could neither deny nor thwart. As he roughly 
handled me, I found my sensual reactions coming dramatically into play. 
While he lapped at my tits, I could feel shivers pulse through my body I in 
waves which came in cycles about every ten or fifteen seconds. 

Now he was down rolling on the ground with me, which should have been 
painful considering the rough earth. But the only thing I felt was a flame 
in my tits and a clenching tightness in my cunt which was accompanied by a 
rush of sticky warm discharge that flowed from the inner depths of my pussy. 

And then, as his wet lips and poking tongue bathed my burning hippies, he 
slid down entirely between my open legs and I could feel that monster cock 
of his rubbing and jabbing against my bubbling pussy through the saturated 
crotch of my panties. 

As he continued working on my tits, I could feel his powerful fingers move 
urgently beneath the flimsy panty crotch, his knuckles creating the most 
maddening friction against the drooling lips of my cunt, working their way 
through the matted, moist pussy hair and pushing against the naked swollen 
lips of my throbbing snatch. Without thinking, I squeezed my thighs, 
capturing his probing hand in the inferno of my cunt. 

Abruptly his strong fingers encircled the gooey crotch of my panties, and 
ripped the cloth to shreds. Now my gaping, oozing cunt was fully exposed, 
which just seemed to make it pulse and froth more. 

My attacker lifted his head from between my tits and looked down at me, and 
then at his own twitching cock. What did he look like? I didn't know; by now 
my eyes were riveted only on that massive, quivering prick. 

Stiff and hard he held his cock in his hand, and guided it between my legs, 
ramming it in my cunt to the hilt so I could feel the mat of his pubic hair 
rubbing against the top of my box. 

Suddenly some portion of my senses seemed to come back to me and told me I 
should be resisting more. I wanted to scream, but couldn't find my voice. I 
wanted to shove him off, but my arms were entangled in my dress. I attempted 
to inch away from the sensation of the alien cock pile driving inside my 
cunt, but my efforts only seemed to drive it deeper into me, so deep now 
that his balls were pressed like hot coals against my asshole, my legs now 
sticking straight up in the air as he fucked me with his unrelenting cock 
unmercifully. 

Suddenly I could feel something overpowering inside of me that was more than 
just the jackhammering cock pounding in my cunt. It was a feeling that 
started in the depths of my pussy, and then began spreading from that 
undefined point in all directions to the other parts of my body. It was the 
feeling I had had when I was twelve years old when I had first started to 
notice that I was becoming a woman and had locked myself in the bedroom-and 
had spread my legs and looked at the pared lips of my pussy in the mirror; 
the feeling that had occurred when I had begun rubbing the inviting lips and 
then the little button at the top of my pussy where the hair was just 
starting to grow, the button I later learned was called the clitoris. It was 
the same feeling I had been trying to capture this afternoon in the same 
position I had discovered fifteen years ago, when I was spread-eagled before 
the mirror and Collins had walked in on me. 

"My God," I said thickly into the shoulder of my grunting assailant, "I'm 
coming." 

The feeling enveloped me and I had no alternative but to wrap my legs around 
him and shove my pelvis into his as hard as I could, clenching my pussy 
muscles like a vise around his rampaging cock. 

Then, without warning, he was pulling his cock out just as I was getting 
ready for him to explode inside me, imagining the creamy, hot sperm bathing 
the walls of my pulsating cunt. Instead, he used one hand to rip the thin 
cotton dress from around me, exposing the lower part of my face. His other 
hand grabbed ahold of his swollen, angry-looking prick and thrust into my 
face. My mouth flew open in astonishment, giving him the opportunity to ram 
the monster cock between my lips and all the way into my throat. 

I gagged and fought for breath as he began grinding away against my face, 
literally fucking me in the mouth, the jungle of his pubic hair rubbing 
against my eyes and nose, his steaming balls pressed against my lower lip 
and chin. 

When he came, my mouth couldn't hold the volume of his apparently endless 
supply of sperm in addition to his huge prick. As spurt after spurt of jizz 
exploded from the end of his dick, that which didn't slide hotly down my 
throat gurgled out of the corners of my mouth, dripping from my chin and 
spattering my tits. 

And, then, as quickly as it started, it was over. Finally finished coming, 
just after I had convinced myself he had an infinite supply of cum and would 
shoot off forever, my attacker withdrew his spent cock from my bubbling, 
gurgling mouth. He got up and pulled up his pants and disappeared into the 
night, leaving me lying there, my face sticky with sperm, the night air 
drying it into taut patches on my skin. 

 CHAPTER THREE 

After lying in a heap on the ground for an indeterminate length of time, I 
finally got up, rearranged my torn clothing as best I could, and walked, 
trying to keep from staggering, across the grounds to my own building. I 
looked blankly at the dingy, defaced wall as I wearily rode the elevator up 
to the ninth floor with the acrid taste of jism filling my mouth. 

What can I say? 

It had been a very unsuccessful day. That's for sure. 

Well, they were sure right about people prowling around in the projects 
after dark. 

I got out of the elevator, went down the hall, and let myself into the 
apartment. Everything was just the way I had left it, except of course for 
some stuff Eddie had dropped on the floor and had been too lazy to pick up, 
such as eight crumpled empty beer cans. 

The lord and master himself was flaked out on the couch, stone cold on his 
back, his pot belly rising and falling like he was a beached whale. 

I went into the bathroom and took off my torn clothing and threw it in a 
heap on the floor. Naked, I inspected myself for bruises, and found a few 
around my tits and between my legs. 

Oh, I ached. I felt like I had been beaten up, trampled on, stomped, and 
fucked by forty Marines, all at the same time. 

After I took a bath, I gave myself a little treat. Instead of hauling Eddie 
into the bedroom, I just let him stay plopped on the couch. It was glorious 
having the bed to myself. Especially since, even though I was dog-tired, I 
changed the sheets so there wouldn't be a trace of Eddie's garbage smell. 

Would you believe that after all that had happened to me, I slept like a 
top? 

Of course the next morning I quickly discovered that the rat race hadn't 
been called off. Eddie saw to that by screaming at me about six inches from 
my ear that I was a rotten bitch and not good enough to be married to him; 
he ought to teach me a lesson by beating the shit out of me, but he didn't 
want to be late for work. 

That was my introduction to the day. 

Then, in rapid succession, I heard Johnny, my twelve-year-old, breaking 
something in the kitchen-I knew it was him because I heard him screaming, 
"Goddamn this fucking place," just like his father-and Janie crying from her 
bedroom. 

That's right, I thought, Janie was sick last night. She'll have to stay home 
from school today. I'm going to have to take care of her. 

Figuring I might as well get up rather than hope futilely for any peace and 
quiet, I pulled myself out from under the covers and sat on the edge of the 
bed. The pain in my body had settled in my chest where my tits had been 
manhandled, and in my cunt where I had been rammed repeatedly. 

I got Johnny off to school, then went into the bedroom to see how my little 
girl was doing. 

I could see it wasn't too bad-just a cold-and I promised Janie I'd play with 
her all day. 

It wasn't such a bad idea at that. I wouldn't mind being ten again. Lately, 
I'd thought a lot that I'd like to start over. Anyway, it was kind of nice 
to have some company. 

When we were finished playing cards after breakfast, I asked Janie what she 
wanted to do now, and she asked me to bring over her doll. I did as she 
asked, along with a miniature trunk full of the doll's clothing. 

Janie opened the trunk and laid the clothes out on top of the bed and said, 
"Now how do you think we should dress her?" 

"Well, this looks nice," I said, pointing to a blue dress, thinking, with a 
touch of irony, that Janie's doll had better looking clothes than Janie's 
mother did. Oh, well, the doll wasn't married to a garbage-man doll. 

We'd finally selected the clothes the doll was going to change into, when 
Janie said, "Oh, we forgot one thing." 

"What's that, sweetheart?" I asked. 

"Her underwear." 

Sure enough, there was underwear for the doll in the bottom of the trunk. 

Janie selected a pair of pale-green panties and a bra before she got to work 
undressing the doll so we could change it into the fresh clothing. 

When the doll was nude, I looked with curiosity at how the manufacturer had 
shaped it. There were small suggestions of breasts, although no marks had 
been made to indicate nipples. There was no belly button, and between the 
legs there was nothing. I was wondering to myself if Janie, at ten, had ever 
noticed how this doll was different than real people, when Janie spoke up 
and answered my question for me. 

"Mommy, why doesn't this doll have hair between her legs the way you do?" 
she asked. 

I think it was the first question about sex she'd ever asked me. "It's just 
a doll, honey," I said vaguely. 

"But she's supposed to be real," she said emphatically. "She's got clothes 
that're supposed to be real, eyes, hair-but she doesn't have hair between 
her legs. How come, Mommy?" 

"Well...." I struggled, "maybe ... maybe it's not supposed to be a grown-up 
doll." 

"Then why do grown-ups have hair between their legs and kids don't?" she 
asked, and before I could answer, added: "And why do boys have that thing 
between their legs and we don't have anything?" 

It was apparent that this had gone too far for me to get off with a joke or 
changing the subject. "Would you like to dress your doll a little bit later 
and have me tell you about what you're asking now?" I said. 

"Yes, yes," she said, her little face lighting up. "But I don't want you to 
just tell me. I want you to show me. I wanna see." 

"Oh, well, then I can use the doll to show you," I improvised. 

"No, no," she said definitely. "The doll doesn't have anything on her that I 
wanna see." 

"Then what do you mean?" I wondered. 

"Gee, Mommy, I thought we could do like we do at school.. You know, you 
could show me the different things you have on your body. Then I could 
really see. It would be real, not like on some dumb old doll." 

"Well, I ... I...." I stammered, not knowing how to cope with what seemed to 
be her bold but obviously sincere suggestion. 

If I said no, she might get the idea that the human body was dirty somehow. 
Maybe my first shocked reaction to her suggestion was just based on my own 
uptight interpretation. To her, it probably seemed like the most natural 
thing in the world to ask. If I said no, what kind of negative impression 
might she get about her body? 

So, reluctantly, after thinking about it for a few anxious moments, I said, 
"All right, I don't suppose it can hurt anything. I'll go into the bathroom 
and, uh, change, and be right back ... in my robe." 

"No, no, Mommy," she said. "I wanna see you do it right here." 

I got up off the bed and walked to the center of the room. For some reason I 
turned my back to her as I looked down and unbuttoned the blouse I was 
wearing, then untucked it and took it off. 

I still was facing away from Janie as I stood there in my jeans that I had 
thrown on when I got up this morning and my bra. Which should I take off 
first? I thought. Finally, I unbuttoned the pants and let them fall slowly 
to the floor, stepping out of them so that I was standing in my bra and 
panties. 

After a few seconds of hesitation, I reached my arms around my back, 
unhooked my bra, and then pulled it off, looking down at my tits as they 
spilled free. 

For some reason I closed my eyes as I pushed my panties down, feeling the 
elastic pulling against my skin as I worked them down my legs. I bent 
forward and removed them from my ankles, straightened up, and opened my eyes 
and looked down at my naked body. It seemed odd to be doing this, as though 
it were the first time I had ever been undressed, but it was too late to 
speculate on it. 

I turned around towards Janie, trying to sound natural by saying, "Well, 
here I am," and practically swallowed my words. 

To my surprise, there was Janie sitting on the bed completely nude. 

From looking at the expression on her face, it was obvious that she thought 
both of us taking off our clothes was the most logical thing in the world. 
And having gone this far with the project, I didn't want to upset her, so I 
said nothing that indicated my surprise. 

"Now where would you like me to start, darling?" I said, coming to the bed. 

She reached out for my tits, actually touching my nipples with the tips of 
her fingers. A chill swept through my body as her fingers lightly took ahold 
of them, and I could feel them suddenly harden as she asked, "Where did you 
get these, Mommy?" 

"I was born with them," I said hesitantly. 

"No you weren't, or I'd have some, too," she said. "I know where you got 
them." 

"Where, smartie?" I said. 

"You got them at Sears." 

I looked at her to see if she had a straight face, and she looked at me as 
though her serious expression was made of granite. And then suddenly, the 
corners of her mouth started to wobble, and she broke up with laughter. 

Her laughter made me feel miraculously at ease, the way only a child's 
unaffected joy can. 

"I know you didn't get them at Sears, Mommy, and I even know what they're 
called," she said, still giggling. 

"What?" I asked. 

"Titties," she said triumphantly. 

"Where did you hear that?" I asked, trying to conceal my amusement at her 
precociousness. 

"From Johnny. He told me all about them." 

"Just what did he tell you?" 

"He told me that if you rub them, it gets a woman all hot." 

That shocked me. I was going to have to have a talk with Johnny. Where was 
he hearing things like that? 

Who am I trying to kid? It'd be unusual if he didn't know about things like 
that. That's the projects, you learn quick. 

While I was still thinking about what I should say to Johnny, Janie asked 
me, "Is that true? If somebody rubs them, does it make you hot?" 

And then the most astonishing thing happened, something I didn't know how to 
cope with. While I was fumbling in my mind for an answer, she actually began 
to rub my tits, massaging her palms over my already erect nipples. 

All of a sudden my search for a reply became lost in an electric feeling 
that pulsed through my body. The effect of her busy little fingers on my 
tits seemed to take priority over the uncertainty I felt. 

"Oh, Mommy," she said in innocent wonder. "Those buttons on the ends of your 
titties are getting hard. What're they called?" 

"My nipples, sweetheart," I said matter-of-factly as she accelerated her 
fondling. 

"Is this what being hot is, Mommy," she said, "getting your nipples all 
stiff?" 

"Um, sort of," I muttered. 

"Could you do that to me?" she said. "What would happen if you did? Would my 
titties grow as big as yours if you did?" 

"No, I'm afraid you'll have to wait until you're older before you have 
them," I said. 

"Well, then I know what feels good right now," she said, removing her hands 
from my tits and dropping them into her lap. 

"What's that?" I asked. 

"This," she said, anxious to show me her discovery. 

She parted her legs, revealing the bare slit-between her chubby thighs, and 
thrust her hand into her crotch and began manipulating herself. I was 
astounded as I saw her not only rub her cunt, but stick one of her fingers 
into the tiny gash and begin probing. 

"What's the matter, Mommy?" she said. "Your mouth is open." 

"Where did you learn that?" I asked, trying not to upset her by appearing 
too shocked. 

"Some girls showed it to me in the bathroom at school. I love it. I do it to 
myself every night. Sometimes I do it to my doll, but it feels better if I 
do it to myself. Do you ever do this to yourself, Mommy?" 

"Well, I ... I...." I stuttered, completely at a loss as to where to take 
this from here. 

"It must be a lot different for you," she said. "What you have between your 
legs seems so different than mine. Can I see it?" 

"I guess so," I agreed, deciding it would be okay if it would stop her from 
sitting there and masturbating in front of me. 

She peered down at my crotch and said, "Spread your legs, Mommy, so I can 
see what's down there." 

I sat on the edge of the bed and parted my knees. She climbed down off the 
bed and got down on her knees and peered between my open thighs, looking at 
what was between my legs with wide-eyed wonder. 

What must that hairy gash have looked like to her? I wondered as I sat there 
if she would be terrified looking at something that seemed so different than 
what she had in the same place. 

Never have I been so conscious of my pussy. As my ten-year-old daughter 
looked at my cunt in awe, it awed me, too, seeming to take over my entire 
body, obscuring everything else. I closed my eyes to help me cope with the 
unbelievable awkwardness of the situation, and, as I did so, in my mind my 
pussy felt like it was growing bigger and bigger until every vein in it 
seemed to be pulsing like a fire hose. 

Then, uncontrollably, I could feel a moist rush between my legs as though my 
crotch had suddenly been immersed in warm water. 

"Mommy, Mommy, it's getting all wet!" 

My God, I was creaming in front of my own daughter! 

But before I could think of what to do, she seized the initiative by 
reaching between my thighs and placing her tiny hand on my cunt. 

Jesus, it felt good. Her little fingers were so smooth as they explored the 
sticky folds of my sopping pussy. 

"Oh, Mommy, what's this?" she asked as an electric sensation abruptly shot 
through me. 

There was no doubt about which part of my cunt she had discovered. 

"That ... that's called my clitoris," I said, just finishing the sentence 
before she touched it again, sending another thrill through me, and then 
began working it with maddening friction between her fingers. 

"Oh, Mommy," she said from the well of my thighs, you're getting my fingers 
all sticky." 

"Uh ... well ... sometimes that happens," I muttered as I was being swept 
away by the delicious lubrication to which the perpetual motion of her 
fingers had driven my cunt. 

Her fingers became miraculously busier and busier, two or three of them 
poking inside the drooling crevice of my cunt and thrusting themselves up 
me, pressing against the walls of my pussy. The sensation of her fingers in 
my cunt made me so delirious with joy that the rational portion of my 
thinking vanished, and all of a sudden the only thing I was concerned with 
was sensuality-pure and simple sex. 

My daughter, even though she was only ten, seemed to sense my abandon and 
craving for the ultimate, possibly from the way my hips and hairy crotch 
undulated forward in classic fucking motions. In any case, something told 
her to add to the stimulation she was already providing with her busy little 
fingers, and before I knew it I could feel her hot face buried between my 
legs and her wet tongue exploring every crevice and fold of my lathering 
cunt. 

As Janie finger-fucked me and ate my pussy, I could feel my own mouth open 
greedily, longing to suck something of its own, yearning for the salty, damp 
taste of sex. My tongue throbbed with hunger, ready to caress something 
juicy, inundating it with globs of sticky saliva. By this time I didn't care 
that the other cunt in the room with me was ten years old, I was determined 
to suck it and eat it, I pulled Janie up off the floor and placed her on my 
stomach so she could instantly resume eating me out. I had a rear view of 
her and quickly pulled apart her legs so I could get at that little honey 
pot of hers. I had seen her little, hairless cunt thousands of times when I 
had been dressing and undressing her, bathing her, and the rest of a 
mother's duties, but this was the first time I had ever seen it in a sexual 
context. 

It was beautiful, innocently shining there before me. The lips were not 
fully developed, so that what showed was a neat little incision right in the 
center of a tiny pillow of soft, white flesh. 

There was not a single hair to detract from or obstruct my view as I 
tenderly pulled apart her legs and the sides of her cunt and looked at the 
inside of her virginal slit from its beginning under the rosebud of her 
asshole to its termination just under her belly. It was a lush pink inside, 
and, despite her tender age, was as fully lubricated with the sticky 
discharge of arousal as any grown woman's. 

I reached a finger inside her soupy crack and thoroughly inundated it in 
Janie's sticky goo, and then brought it back to my lips and tasted it. The 
aroma and the taste were like an aphrodisiac, so pungent was Janie's 
secretion with the essence of sex. 

Meanwhile, Janie continued to devour my own hairy gash, lapping away at it 
as though it were a new flavor of ice cream. I could feel her little face 
pressed so deeply into my crotch that her nose and lips had actually worked 
their way into the sopping slit of my pussy, enabling her to thrust her 
tongue far up me, like a small prick. 

Now I couldn't wait. I felt an uncontrollable urge to taste the confection 
before me first-hand. I lifted her legs up off me so I could have access to 
her little cunt while she remained licking and tongue-fucking mine. Holding 
her like a wheelbarrow, her stiff body held in the air with just her face 
touching me, buried in my throbbing pussy, I craned my head forward and 
thrust my mouth against the hairless crevice of her cunt. 

My lips squished and slid against the soft meat between her legs until they 
were centered against her little hole. Greedily, I began gnawing on the 
sweet-tasting mound, giving Janie her first French-kiss, either above or 
below the waist. 

Her little body stiffened even more than it had been before when I plunged 
my probing poker of a tongue into her slit, and, as the pleasure made her 
rigid, she accelerated the action of her own mouth in my grateful, 
convulsing cunt. 

My sucking mouth and probing tongue now began to search excitedly for the 
crowning jewel of her pussy, her clit. Janie's cunt was now wide open 
against my mouth, the perimeter of her slit pressing wetly against my lips 
while my tongue frantically explored her frothing wound for the seat of its 
ultimate pleasure. 

As I worked around the slippery edges and inside the juicy interior of 
Janie's cunt, I finally found it. It was small and just developing, but a 
hard little nub nonetheless, and I pantingly pushed my tongue against her 
tiny clit. 

Janie's ass was rolling around in my face, and, when she felt the pressing 
of my tongue and the suction of my mouth against her tiny button, she went 
into a frenzied spasm. 

Her body shook and her legs stiffened, while at the other end her face 
pressed even further into the cavern of my greedy, sucking cunt as she 
passionately licked the palpitating inner walls of my pussy, reaming the 
creaming froth from my tissues and swallowing it with slurping gulps. 

She raised her pelvis as I hungrily devoured her cunt, and then, as her 
spasms increased, unexpectedly let fly a steaming stream of piss. It 
surprised me, but only with delight, as I felt the hot yellow liquid gush 
out while I opened my mouth wide just in time to swallow the golden stream 
that flew from Janie's completely open pussy. 

As the last few drops of Janie's sweet piss dribbled into my mouth, I heard 
a scream from between my thighs as her tongue shot all the way up my 
drooling cunt. Her rigid body became as straight as a board, then suddenly 
went limp as I realized that at ten years old she had experienced a massive 
orgasm. 

From the well of my pussy between my legs I could hear her moaning into the 
hairy glove of my cunt, "Oh, Mommy, that's better than the bathroom at 
school." Instantly, I realized that I hadn't been the first person to make 
her come, but at least I had given her the best. 

My own cunt was shuddering on the verge of coming, like a drunk wobbling on 
a high ledge, a whisker from falling off. Janie, God bless her, seemed to 
sense this instinctively, and, although she had already come, withdrew her 
tongue from the interior of my pussy and guided it for one last stab at my 
engorged, stiff clit. In a matter of a couple of seconds I had fallen off 
the ledge and was swirling and plunging dizzily through the air, moaning in 
the ecstasy of a bone-racking climax with the sweet taste of Janie's piss 
bathing my mouth. 

Later, after we had both lain on the bed for a while, our hands resting on 
each other's spent cunts while we bathed in the afterglow of coming, I got 
up and went to the bathroom and came back with a towel so we could dry off 
our pussies. As we each took an end of the towel, and shared it as we wiped 
off our sopping cunts simultaneously, I looked at Janie and smiled, feeling 
my heart dance as she smiled back. 

"I told you we'd have a good time," I said. 

She dropped the towel from between her legs and reached over for me, 
throwing her arms around me and hugging me. "Oh, Mommy," she beamed, "I love 
you so much." 

 CHAPTER FOUR 

Of course, if I had contemplated it in advance, the idea of having sex with 
Janie would have seemed unthinkable to me. However, that was not the way it 
had happened. It was so spontaneous that shame didn't even occur to me, and, 
we had worked each other to such lovely results, there was no way in the 
sensual aftermath to feel anything but good about it. It seemed like the 
most natural thing in the world had happened between us, on the one hand; 
and, on the other hand, like being in a fairy tale that had come true. 

In any case, it brought us closer together than ever, and we spent a 
delightful day together. 

Reality, though, has a definite habit of always intruding, eventually, on 
the most blissful of feelings. So, as the day rolled around to its 
conclusion, I found myself gradually steeling myself for conflict, my teeth 
on grim edge as I anticipated a confrontation with Eddie. 

And wouldn't you know it, this would turn out to be one of those nights, 
rarer than a unicorn, when he came home from the garbage truck horny and 
wanting to fuck me the minute he walked through the door. 

Fucking Eddie was not what I had been preparing myself for, and his demands 
threw me off stride. I didn't want to fuck him, the memories of my 
experience this morning with Janie still warmly deposited in my cunt. 

On the other hand, having old fatso stick his slimy dick up my cunt was 
preferable to having him slap me around for last night. 

Or was it? 

"Listen," Eddie panted, hustling me into the bedroom, "I've gotta have it 
now." 

"But the children...." I said, alluding to the fact that Janie was in the 
bedroom next to us and Johnny was right outside the door. 

"Forget 'em," he growled. 

"At least close the door," I said. 

He walked over and kicked it closed with a grunt, then walked back to me and 
pushed me back onto the bed. "Now, strip," he demanded as he started pulling 
down his grimy pants. 

Reluctantly, my fingers went to the waist of my jeans and unbuttoned them. 
He seemed like a volcano on the verge of eruption as he waited with obvious 
impatience for me. As I took my clothes off, I could see his prick standing 
out like an angry sword. 

As I said before, most of the time Eddie's alleged lovemaking consists of 
him rolling on top of me, half-drunk and half-asleep, just sticking his cock 
in long enough for him to spray the inside of my cunt, and then rolling off 
and falling asleep-if he was ever awake in the first place. But when he 
walks through the door horny like this in the early evening, anything's 
possible. 

I know the cause of it. Every once in a while, the garbage men make a find 
of some hard-core pornography in somebody's trash, and spend all day passing 
it around among themselves and getting horny as hell. That stuff always puts 
ideas in Eddie's head-since he's too dumb to get any ideas on his own-and 
when he comes home, he usually wants to try whatever he's been looking at 
all day in those dirty pictures. One time he tied me to a chair, got out his 
.22 pistol and held it to my head-unloaded, thank God-while he made me suck 
him off, eventually coming all over my face. Then, with globs of sperm 
sliding down my face, he thrust the barrel of the gun into my mouth and made 
me suck it while he played with his prick until he came again. 

When I was naked, he came towards me with a determined expression on his 
unshaven face as I anxiously wondered what he was going to try tonight. 

He went for my legs and grabbed them around the ankles, pulling them 
straight up. Then he bent them back over the top part of my body and hooked 
my feet over the bedstead so that I could feel my cunt and asshole literally 
bulging out in the open. 

The way he acted when he was like this, I would have been afraid to move in 
any case. But, just to make sure I didn't, he shook the case off a pillow 
and quickly wrapped it around my ankles, binding them to the bedstead. 

Now that I was at his mercy, he lowered himself to inspect my crotch, 
rubbing his hand roughly over it as though he had to check that it was still 
there. When he was apparently satisfied that everything was in working 
order, he straightened up and took a couple of deep breaths, working himself 
into a snorting frenzy while he stroked his prick. 

Through my upraised legs, I could see him grab firmly ahold of his cock and 
begin guiding it towards my open crotch. I closed my eyes, expecting to feel 
his cock slide up my cunt, telling myself that it wouldn't be too bad, and I 
could almost fake coming. 

But, then, suddenly, instead of feeling the head of his dick pass through my 
pussy-lips, I felt a stabbing thrust below my cunt that felt like I had been 
impaled on a butcher knife. 

My God, he was trying to fuck me in the ass! And without any preparation. 
There was no lubrication there and his ramming dick scraped painfully 
against the taut, delicate skin of my bone-dry asshole. He didn't even give 
me a chance to get used to accepting his huge rod in the tiny canal. He just 
shoved his cock up my tight, dry butt, totally ignoring my screams as he 
pushed harder and harder until I thought I was going to pass out from the 
intolerable pain. 

Probably the thing that kept me conscious was that, just as I was on the 
brink of going under, the room filled with the sharp crack of the bedroom 
door being hurled open, and footsteps pounding across the floor. 

"Don't hurt my mommy!" Johnny screamed at Eddie. "Get off her or I'll kill 
you!" 

I opened my eyes with alarm and saw my twelve-year-old son standing there 
threatening his father with a butcher knife, while his father had his cock 
buried up to the hilt in his mother's asshole. 

"Why, you little bastard!" Eddie bellowed, and swung around with the upper 
part of his body to try and knock Johnny away. As he did so, his prick 
slipped partially out of my butt. Seizing the opportunity to get free, I 
pulled my crotch back with all my might, and, wiggling my hips, worked his 
prick completely out of my asshole. 

Eddie turned around from trying to hit Johnny, who had skipped out of 
danger, and saw that I had gotten his cock out of my butthole. He tried to 
grab for me in anger, but I had managed to tear off the restraints around my 
ankles and my legs were down now. I began kicking at him furiously, 
eventually driving him back. 

Seeing that he wasn't going to get his prick back in my ass, Eddie got up 
off the bed and walked towards me, his cock still standing straight out, 
with his hands clutched in front of him as though he intended to choke me 
for my disobedience. 

However, he never touched me. Just as his hands approached my throat, Johnny 
appeared out of nowhere behind him and let him have it across the back of 
the neck with a lamp. Eddie dropped like he had been shot to the floor, his 
neck and head bleeding copiously, fragments of the lamp surrounding him on 
the floor. 

I leaped from the bed and dashed into the living room, picking up the 
receiver and hovering over the phone, still naked, as I frantically dialed 
the one place I could think of that might help. 

"Police?" I asked urgently. 

The voice on the other end said that I had the right place, and blandly 
asked what he could do for me. 

I cried into the receiver, "I've been ....", stopping abruptly at the word 
which would actually describe what had happened, then finally yielding to 
the word which was indelibly etched into my consciousness despite the fact 
that the identity of my attacker was my own husband. "I've been raped!" 

"Where you live, lady?" the voice said, emotionless. 

I gave him the address. 

"The projects, huh?" 

"Yes," I confirmed. 

"Tell me somethin', lady," the voice said. "Yes " 

"You a white lady?" 

"Well ... why, yes, but ...." 

"And was your assailant a nig ... colored?" 

"No, he was white," I said. 

"Oh," he said with obvious disappointment. After a pause, the interest 
dropped from his voice and he said, "Okay, well send somebody as soon as we 
can spare 'em." 

Taken aback by his nonchalance, and the implication that the police would 
have been Johnny-on-the-spot for something they considered sufficiently 
juicy, I screamed into the phone, "Can't you send somebody right away?" 

"Why?" was his bored answer. 

"I told you, because I've been raped!" I cried desperately. 

"It's already over, isn't it?" he said matter-of-factly. 

"Well, yes...." 

"Then what's the hurry, lady? Just take it easy. Somebody'll be there to 
take your complaint sooner or later." 

I hung up with a crash and wandered dazedly back into the bedroom. Seeing 
Eddie collapsed out cold on the floor brought me around, though. A pool of 
blood from his head and neck had spread out on the floor, mixing with the 
shards of glass and porcelain from the smashed lamp. So overwhelming was my 
contempt for my fallen husband that it didn't occur to me the unusual step I 
had taken in reporting a rape where I, as his wife, was the victim of my own 
husband. 

I looked around for my son, Johnny, to thank him for saving me, and to calm 
him down after the trauma he must have received from witnessing the terrible 
scene between his father and me. But Johnny was nowhere around. I went back 
into the living room, calling his name in vain. Then I saw the front door 
wide open and realized that he had fled. 

It didn't take me more than a couple of seconds to figure out what had 
probably happened. The way you were brought up in the projects, all you had 
to hear was that the cops were coming and you split. It was well understood 
from your first day on the streets that, if you lived in the projects, you'd 
better stay away from the pigs. 

I sat, still naked, and wondered ruefully if Johnny, in addition to his 
instinctive fear of the police, might have thought I called them on him for 
bashing his father in the head. 

Eventually I returned to the bedroom, taking only a brief look at Eddie to 
make sure he was still out of commission, and finding a robe which I threw 
over my nakedness. I went into the kitchen and found some beer and had a 
couple of cans to calm me down during the nerve-racking ordeal of waiting 
for the police. 

I had a beer can in my hand when I heard somebody knocking on the front 
door, and then, not even waiting for an answer, hurling it open and barging 
into the apartment. I automatically responded to the commotion by lurching 
up from the table and walking into the living room, calling, "Hey, what's 
going on in here?" 

There were two of them, both of them looking like soldiers in some 
disreputable army in their baggy, blue uniforms. Both of them instantly 
trained their eyes on the beer can I was holding. 

"You the lady supposed to've been raped?" one of them with a red, mottled 
face asked. 

"Yes," I said, already intimidated by their aggressive presence. 

"Don't seem to've hit you too hard," the red-faced one said with a funny 
grin. 

"I beg your pardon?" I ventured. 

"Don't seem like to me you're too shook up if you're takin' time out for a 
brew. Seems to me people only do that after they've enjoyed something." 

I incredulously asked him what he meant. 

"Maybe I should say after they've enjoyed it." 

He pronounced the word "it" as though it were the most obscene word in the 
language. 

His partner, with a face as smoothly white and doughy as his was fiery and 
pitted, just stood there saying nothing. At least he hadn't smart-mouthed 
me, so I appealed to him, trying, incongruously, to explain why I was doing 
something as suspicious as drinking a can of beer. 

"I've been trying to calm myself down," I said. "I went through a lot." 

The dough-faced one remained mute; however, his partner was quick to reply, 
"Yeah, lady, that's what they all say." 

I told myself that I had to stifle my anger if I was going to get anyplace. 
I was beginning to wish that I hadn't called them, but they were here, and I 
had to make the best of it. 

"How can I cooperate with your investigation?" I forced myself to say. 

"Say, Slobotksi," the red-faced one said to his silent partner, "we gotta 
citizen here that wants to cooperate with her local law-enforcement 
officials. And in the goddamn projects, yet. I don't believe it. You got any 
smellin' salts, handy, Slobotski? Ha, ha!" 

He turned back to me and eyed me intensely, his eyes like hot coals in the 
scarred geography of his scarlet face. 

"I'm glad you wanna cooperate with us," he said, an aggressive edge never 
leaving his voice. 

"Of course," I forced myself to say evenly, fighting my emotions. "What 
would you like me to tell you?" 

"No, that comes later," he said. "First we gotta be sure that it happened. 
You know, we gotta have proof that this here crime you're alleging actually 
was perpetrated. Know what I mean, honey?" 

I was aghast at his familiarity, and just stood there with my mouth open. 

"What I mean, doll, is that you gotta show us where he plugged you so we can 
see it's true that he really had it up in you. I hope you didn't get finicky 
and douche nothin' out, because if there's a load of cum between your legs, 
it'll make our investigation a helluva lot easier. And me and my partner 
like easy investigations. Don't we, Slobotski?" 

Slobotski just grinned like an idiot. I thought I detected him drooling. 

The red-faced one moved towards me and, before I could figure out what he 
was going to do, shoved against my chest with his open hands, squashing my 
tits before I flew back onto the couch. As I fell backward, my eye caught a 
glimpse of the name tag on his shirt and saw that his name was Murphy. 

"What's the meaning of this, Officer Murphy?" I blurted as my fall was 
broken by the cushions of the couch. 

"I see you know my name," he chuckled. "I knew my fame had spread, but 
strange women recognizin' me ... Wow, Slobotski, feel privileged to work 
alongside the old master." 

"What're you doing?" I demanded to know as he pressed closer towards me. 

"Well, we ain't swimmin' the English Channel. We're conducting a routine 
police investigation, natch. We gotta be sure what you say happened, 
happened like you say. Understand?" 

He winked. 

"So...." he continued. "So?" I repeated in fear. 

"Spread your legs so we can conduct our investigation." 

"What if I refuse?" 

"You ever hear of interfering with a police officer in the process of 
conducting an investigation, sister?" 

I looked up at his snarling red face in astonishment. 

"It's a felony, baby, a big one. So you just cooperate, like you promised in 
the first place, if you know what's good for you. Now spread 'em." 

But I was paralyzed with fear as it occurred to me for the first time that 
the investigation could be worse than the crime. I couldn't have moved a 
muscle if I had wanted to. 

"Slobotski, get your ass over here!" Murphy barked to his partner. "Our 
witness here has gotten shy on us. Help the little lady out, huh?" 

Like a big doughy robot, Slobotski shuffled over to where I was on the couch 
and grabbed ahold of my legs, placing his sweaty palms and clutching fingers 
up under the hem of my robe onto my thighs. 

"Now!" Murphy ordered. 

All of a sudden the apparently soft Slobotski turned into a powerhouse of 
strength as his hands clenched like vises on my thighs and pried them apart, 
sending my robe flying up around my waist and completely exposing my aching 
crotch. 

Slobotski backed away to give Murphy room to peer in between my legs. I 
looked away, but I could feel the heat emanating from his face as he put it 
right up against my cunt. 

Suddenly a finger traced over the contours of my pussy-lips and then 
breached them, going inside my cunt as Murphy brazenly felt me up. After a 
minute or so he withdrew his finger and I could hear him sniffing it before 
he said, "There ain't nothin' up there but the regular smell of pussy. Tuna 
fish, ha, ha. My professional opinion, lady, as a bona-fide sergeant on the 
police force with over ten years of crime-fighting experience, is that there 
ain't been nothin' up there but your own imagination." 

I said nothing. What point would there be now in telling them I'd actually 
been fucked in the ass? Besides, Eddie hadn't come up there either. Instead, 
I just remained mute and frozen with my legs apart as they contemplated my 
emit. 

Slobotski showed some initiative for the first time as he came forward and 
peered into the well of my crotch. His fingers, too, explored my cunt, 
although he was a lot gender than his partner. 

Slobotski's fingers traced the extent of my cunt, starting from the 
beginning of its slit under my bush, all the way to where it ended near my 
asshole. It was there that his finger pressed against the lump of my swollen 
bung, and I literally jumped in pain. 

"Jesus," Murphy said to his still silent partner, "will you look at that. 
Her asshole's swollen up like she just shit a bumblebee." 

Murphy straightened up and put his ugly face next to my ear and yelled, 
"Hey, lady!" 

I jumped again. 

"Just trying to get your attention. Listen, did he do it to you in your 
ass?" I reluctantly nodded. 

He leaned over again and put his finger down there, inserting it painfully 
up my butt. 

"Nope, nothin' sticky up there either. You sure you weren't playing with 
your vibrator and things got out of hand?" Then Murphy turned to his partner 
and said, "I dunno, Slobotski, seems a shame to have somebody claiming to be 
a rape victim, and it looks like no rape actually took place." 

Turning back towards me, he made a lewd wink and said, "Maybe we can do 
somethin' about that, lady." 

And just so I wouldn't miss the point, he reached down and rubbed his groin, 
calling my attention to the large cock-bulge that was now protruding there. 

I instinctively closed my legs in fear as I trembled, waiting for what was 
going to come next. I had been at the mercy of men three times in the last 
twenty-four hours: first by an actual rapist, last night; then by my own 
husband; and finally by the police. Each of them had been successively up 
the scale of so-called respectability, and each had been successively more 
terrifying. 

Apparently, I was on the verge of being victimized again. I closed my eyes 
and prayed for something extraordinary to save me as Murphy and Slobotski 
infected each other with Murphy's contagious inspiration about the 
possibility of raping me. 

Then with my eyes still closed, I heard a commotion coming from the 
direction of the bedroom and moving .towards the living room. I opened my 
eyes in time to see Eddie staggering into the room, holding his bloody head 
like a watermelon that had already been dropped once and couldn't withstand 
another bounce on the ground. 

"Who's this clown?" Murphy demanded to know. "This your boy friend? Doing a 
little cheating on your husband and it got out of hand, didn't it, and you 
thought you could call us and we'd bail you out, now didn't you?" 

"No, no," I cried, "that's my husband!" 

"That right, fella?" Murphy said to the disheveled Eddie. 

"You're damn straight," Eddie rumbled. 

"Then who's supposed to've raped you?" Murphy turned to me. 

"He did," I blurted, pointing to Eddie, immediately realizing that I had 
made a mistake. 

"He did?" Murphy said incredulously. "That's impossible! He's your husband! 
What're you trying to pull here, lady? You trying to make fools outta the 
police?" 

I didn't know how to answer. 

"Wait a minute," Eddie interrupted, swaying uncertainly in the center of the 
room. "She's tellin' the truth. Sort of. I mean, sure, I fucked her. I 
fucked her right up the ass. Didn't use no Vaseline or nothin'. And I'd like 
to know what the hell anybody's gonna do about it. Last time I heard, man 
hadda right to prong his old lady no matter how he liked. Fuck her in the 
fuckin' armpits if I wanted to. It's a man's right with his wife. Says so in 
the fuckin' Bible." 

I winced at the notion of Eddie as a Biblical scholar, not to mention his 
perverted, vicious logic that he could treat me like a slave because he 
happened to be married to me. 

"That's right, the man's right," Murphy said. "When you get right down to 
it, there ain't no actual such thing as rape between a husband and a wife. 
Just passionate lovemaking, ha, ha." 

"Right," Eddie agreed gutturally as he staggered over to me and grabbed the 
hem of my robe and wiped some blood off his face with it. 

When he was finished, instead of dropping it back in place, he pulled the 
flap of the robe back even farther, exposing my legs and the top of my 
beaver. The three of them looked at me, contemptuously yet hungrily. 

"Listen, friend," Murphy said to Eddie. "I noticed during the course of our 
investigation of this matter that you didn't have time to finish what you'd 
started. Looks like you got yourself clobbered before you got in all of your 
innings." 

"What're you gettin' at?" Eddie snarled suspiciously. 

Murphy looked over at me for a long time, moving his eyes over my body, and 
especially towards the area of my cunt, deciding it was worth it to take the 
risk of what he was apparently considering. Finally he spoke, cocking his 
hand over his holstered gun and saying jauntily, but still betraying his 
nervousness: "Before you showed up, we was thinkin' about finishing the job. 
You know, sort of re-enacting the crime for the purposes of our 
investigation. Of course, now we know there ain't been no crime. But, on the 
other hand, now that you're here, you're kinda like our host. You know, us 
cops don't like to go to all the trouble of responding to a call and then 
come away empty-handed. Goes against our public-spirited grain. Maybe you'd 
like to help us make it worth our while for comin' all the way out here." 

"You mean, you boys want me to tell you it's okay to go ahead and fuck my 
wife?" Eddie said. 

"Well, I wouldn't put it exactly that way," Murphy said. 

"How else would you put it?" Eddie said in such a way that I actually 
thought that maybe he was coming to my rescue. 

Murphy was silent for a moment and then concluded, "Now that you mention it, 
I guess I would put it that way. Except, of course, that nobody expects you 
to watch." 

"Oh, now you're givin' me permission to fuck my own wife. I thought we 
already decided I don't need that-not even from her." 

"What I mean is that it looks like the little lady is more 'h enough for one 
man. From the looks of you, you couldn't finish on your own. Too bad. 
There's nothin' like shooting your wad up a tight asshole, even if it is 
only your wife's. However, now you got some expert help. She can't fight 
back if somebody's holding her down." 

"Say, you gotta good point there," Eddie said, a grin splitting his scruffy 
face. 

So much for chivalry. 

"I get it," Eddie continued. "If the three of us are on her, she won't be 
able to fight back." 

Apparently his dignity wouldn't let him admit that he'd actually been conked 
by a ten-year-old kid in the first place. 

"And nobody can do nothin'," he went on, "because I'm her husband, and what 
I want goes." 

"And, besides, we're the police," Murphy reminded him. "Meaning, of course, 
that it's impossible for us to break the law." 

You'd have thought I were an inanimate object-a rock or something that was 
in their way that they were contemplating moving-the detached way they 
discussed me in my presence. It was as though they didn't know I was there. 
Correction: They knew my body was there-specifically my cunt and ass-but 
they just disregarded that I had a mind and feelings. 

But I knew I had them. And, what's more, I knew that it would be devastating 
to them to have to endure another humiliating sexual experience under the 
mental and emotional conditions of the last two. And that wasn't even 
counting my disillusioning fuck with the Housing Authority's Mr. Collins. 

There was no doubt about it now. They were going to fuck me, and fuck me 
good. I could see it in their perspiring faces and their shifting eyes. Even 
the doughy, placid Slobotski was showing signs of agitation. 

And I could see it in the bulges of their crotches. Each of their dicks was 
obviously straining under their pants, waiting to be unleashed on me. 

The old saying is that when you're about to be raped and there's nothing you 
can do about it-lay back and enjoy it. It's considered old-fashioned advice, 
I guess, in these days of liberation, although all I know about women's lib 
is what I read someplace or hear on television. As far as real life's 
concerned, as much as I can tell, women's lib doesn't make any difference as 
to what happens to people like me. My life was planned out in advance 
according to the fact of nature that men have big strong cocks between their 
legs, and women have holes. Hairy, slurping holes, but holes nonetheless. 
The way it is, the men are always going to be trying to stick those cocks 
into your hole, and if you want anything out of life besides being an old 
maid or a nun, well, you've got to let them stick it in you, you've got to 
give in to them. You've got to let yourself be fucked. Women's lib would say 
fucked over. But you've still got to fuck. Fucking is a part of life, even 
if it isn't perfect. Even the people in women's lib fuck. 

And I was going to be fucked over now. I made up my mind right then, as they 
circled me like frothing dogs competing for a bitch in heat, that if they 
were going to fuck me, it wasn't going to be a one-way street. I was going 
to fuck back. And enjoy every pounding thrust of it. Before I was through, I 
was determined to wring every last sticky drop of jizz out of their cocks, 
and send them away with their peckers between their legs. 

Having made my decision, I wasted no time in getting things rolling. Murphy 
was the closest, and as he bumped near me, I suddenly grabbed for the bulge 
below his waist. Wow, you should have seen the look on his face when I did 
that. He almost fainted from astonishment. 

But if he had started to fall, goddamn it, I would have kept him up by 
holding onto his prick. Because I had his cock out of his pants quicker even 
than I would have thought possible. And it was a beauty: a long, thick rod 
with a hard knot on the end of it, the whole thing even redder than his 
face. 

Eagerly, I wrapped my lips around his cock, hungrily swallowing it whole, 
sucking on it with all my might to draw it out to its full length, while my 
fingers frantically fumbled in his pants for his balls. 

Eddie had never seen me like this, but he apparently liked what he saw, 
since he wasted no time in unfurling his own prick, which, when he pulled it 
out, seemed, out of the corner of my eye, to be bigger and stiffer than I 
had ever seen it in all the years of our marriage. 

It became immediately clear that Eddie wanted some of my mouth, too. By this 
time I had Murphy's hairy, quivering balls free of his pants and was 
pressing them tightly as I sucked his cock. Eddie moved to Murphy's side and 
bumped him over. Murphy glowered back at him, and I could see there might be 
trouble if I didn't intercede. 

I took ahold of Eddie's prick, marveling at its new-found length and girth 
before I opened my mouth wider than I would have thought possible and forced 
it in. 

Of course with two big pricks in my mouth there was no way I could 
thoroughly swallow both or either one. However I got the head of each 
securely inside and bathed them in drooling, warm saliva and ran my tongue 
over them as I felt them throb inside my grasping mouth and against each 
other. 

But it was left to Slobotski to really surprise me. Up until now he had been 
standing timidly across the room, looking as if he were too shy to join in. 
But, finally, the temptation was too much for him. Just as I had the two 
cocks securely wedged in my mouth and was lathering them up with my busy 
tongue, I shot a glance across the room and saw him at last pulled out his 
prick. 

Jesus, what a cock! I had never seen one so big. It even made Mr. Collins 
from the Housing Authority look underdeveloped, and his prick had been at 
least a healthy ten inches. 

Unlike the others, Slobotski let his pants and shorts fall all the way off, 
which gave my grateful eyes the opportunity to witness the full glory of his 
equipment. And the fact that he was still wearing his gun belt made it even 
more exciting, sending a rapturous spasm through my bubbling cunt as I saw 
his prick was even bigger than his pistol. . 

Out of the center of a veritable forest of thick, unruly black pubic hair, a 
dong apparently over a foot long loomed from Slobotski's tensed loins. It 
had a thick shaft that looked like a heavy-duty battering ram incongruously 
colored pink, and a knob on the end of it like a blunt, pointed heart. And 
even from across the room I could see a shining pearl of anxious juice 
glistening at the end of it. 

With both Eddie's and Murphy's pricks in my mouth, I put my hands forward 
and motioned Slobotski to come towards me. When he hesitated, I spread my 
legs to the maximum, and, thrusting my hands to my crotch, tore apart the 
slobbering lips of my pussy so he could see the inviting, frothing interior 
of my starving cunt that begged to be battered into insensibility by his 
monster tool. 

Slobotski got my message, all right. He lumbered, across the room, and was 
quickly panting over me. I knew I was going to have to help him because he 
was so shy. So, while the other two continued to fuck me in the mouth, I 
swung my body out along the length of the couch, keeping my head twisted so 
I could accommodate the twin cocks. 

The memory of my terror when this had all started had utterly vanished. The 
only thing on my mind now were those three cocks in the room with me, and 
especially Slobotski's huge vibrating whang. My cunt ached to have it inside 
me. 

I spread my legs invitingly and felt the pussy juice draining out of my 
puffy slit, drenching my thighs in anticipation of what was about to happen. 
Slobotski may have been slow, but he had finally caught on, and quickly 
lowered himself between my grossly open thighs. 

I wanted my hands around that cock to make sure it went in my cunt exactly 
right. But nothing prepared me for the way it felt in my hands. I couldn't 
completely close my fingers around the shaft it was so huge. 

I worked his cock in slowly and tantalizingly, trying to drive both of us 
crazy. First, though, I rubbed the huge knob against my vibrating clit, 
actually inserting my nub into the vertical slit at the tip of his prick, 
fucking him in a delicious miniature way. 

When my clit was agitated to the extreme point where I thought it was going 
to hemorrhage, I took monster cock with both hands in a grip starting right 
under the rim of the head and rammed it like a spear up my waiting, gasping 
cunt. 

You could hear that prick literally splashing up the canal of my pussy, so 
copious and juicy was the ocean of sticky cunt goo that awaited it. The 
squishing continued, sounding like somebody jumping up and down on a set of 
springs, as he pumped away at my cunt. He drove his gigantic cock in my cunt 
to the hilt, his balls pounding against the cheeks of my upturned ass, and 
then he slid that big tool slowly out all the way to the knob, the froth 
from my pussy juice coating his shaft and bubbling at my cunt-lips, 
streaking down my crotch. My pussy-lips hung onto his prick like claws, 
determined to work the thin skin of his cock back and forth in a friction so 
maddening he would be seized by convulsions. 

Meanwhile, Eddie and Murphy hadn't forgotten about me, and I certainly 
hadn't forgotten about them. Their cocks tasted saltier and saltier in my 
mouth, and I couldn't wait to soften the taste with the sweet flavor of 
creamy, hot jism. Just to make them swell in my sucking mouth even more, and 
bring them even closer to the sticky reality of ejaculation, I lifted my 
hands from Slobotski's immense dick, which was doing fine on its own, and 
wrapped them around the two pricks in my mouth. 

Vigorously, I stroked their cocks, gouging my fingers into their hard flesh 
and kneading them like stubborn dough. Then I cupped their balls, pumping 
all four of them, trying to get every possible drop of cum on ready-alert to 
shoot out of those pricks like they were fire hoses. 

Suddenly, the room seemed to jump. It was like there was an earthquake. But 
it was we who were causing the tremor. Locked as we were in a pretzel of 
fucking and sucking, the same vibrations seemed to be coursing through all 
of us simultaneously. If one of us felt something, we all felt it. And I 
guess the feeling which now shook us down to our quicks had started with me, 
and had quickly invaded the others. 

First I felt it right in the pit of my stomach. But then it instantly spread 
to my crotch. Not just my cunt, but the whole thing. Not only my pussy, but 
my pussy-lips, my pelvis, my groin, my hips, my asshole, even my bush, 
suddenly felt as though they had been zapped by an electric shock. Oh, my 
God, what a deliriously agonizing feeling it was! My pelvis bucked as though 
my spine had just been snapped. And, as I shot my hips forward in delirious 
ecstasy, the others, having assimilated my vibes, did exactly the same 
thing. The force of our combined thrust almost knocked us onto the floor. 

There was no doubt about it, I was going to come almost immediately. And I 
knew, as the welter of orgasm inundated my body, I would have the 
simultaneous thrill of being absolutely drenched with steaming sperm. But I 
didn't want to wait at all. Just to advance the onslaught a few precious 
seconds, I lowered my hand to my exploding crotch. Feeling Slobotski's 
massive prick reaming out my cunt, I pressed my finger just above where his 
shaft was moving in and out like a piston and pressed my turgid, stiff clit. 
I was so immersed in sex that two cocks in my mouth and the biggest dong I'd 
ever seen ripping apart my pussy wasn't enough, and I had to flick myself 
off. 

Oh, but it was worth it! It was like being in a fairy tale and saying "Open 
Sesame," after I pressed the button of my clit. Orgasmic frenzy instantly 
drenched me-it was as though somebody had somehow filled a bucket with 
orgasms and then poured them all over me. 

It was not just one climax I felt, but one after another after another after 
another ... until there seemed to be dozens of them; and not just occurring 
successively, but several of them seeming to occur simultaneously. 

As I came, every orifice in my body tightened up. My cunt and mouth squeezed 
those dicks so hard I thought I was going to break them. But what happened 
was that the cum exploded from them, all three cocks gushing at once. If one 
of them had divided just his sperm between all three of them, there would 
have been more than enough to go around for three normal girls getting 
fucked. But all three of my guys had more than that much. How wonderful it 
felt, because I was not three normal girls getting fucked, but one with the 
ravenous appetite for spurting pricks of an army of horny women. 

At that moment I couldn't think of a better way to die than to drown in 
jism. As they ejaculated in me, I envisioned myself going under for the 
third and last time as I drowned in a bottomless pool of cum, my mouth and 
nose completely clogged with the viscous globs of it, as I fought for breath 
and gratefully lost to the dominance of the onslaught of hot, sticky sperm 
that overwhelmed me. 

Well, I wasn't exactly being fucked by crowned heads of state, so I didn't 
expect to be treated like a queen when we were through coming. However, I 
also didn't expect to be thrown on the floor like a used scum-bag when they 
were through shooting their wads in me. 

But that's exactly what happened. When they had squeezed off their last 
syrupy globules of cum, they pulled out of me simultaneously. The sound of 
their dicks actually popping out of my taut orifices resonated through the 
room. The force of their withdrawal threw me back against the couch, where I 
bounced and finally landed in a heap on the floor. When I landed, the sound 
of the cum filling my cunt splashing was clearly audible, and long, stringy 
globs of it flew out of my open pussy and mouth. I put my hand to my face 
and felt it all over me, rich blobs of sperm oozing down my face and matting 
my hair. 

A hand to my pussy revealed that spent jism was flowing out like molten lava 
cascading over the rim of a volcano. There wasn't a dry hair in my bush, and 
my thighs were adhesively coated with it. 

I wasn't through yet, though! 

I would have been satisfied to just lie there, feeling the cum slide out of 
me, basking in the afterglow of the most sensationally excruciating sex 
experience I had ever had. How could I just call it fucking? It was an 
experience! But from the scuffling I heard above me, it became quickly 
evident that the experience wasn't over. The three of them wanted more. 

I opened my eyes and saw them huddling together, obviously sizing me up for 
something, their cocks still erect and bumping into each other. 

"The ass," one of them said. 

"Yeah, the ass," the others buzzed. 

My ass! That's right, that's what had started all of this. Eddie fucking me 
in the ass. My God, that had hurt. 

But this time I was ready for it. I wouldn't let them batter me down. I 
convinced myself that it didn't make any difference how many of them wanted 
to fuck me, how long they wanted to fuck, or which hole they wanted to do it 
in. I could take it. I'd been waiting there with my legs spread, my mouth 
open wide, and my buns pulled apart so they could fuck me until their balls 
were turned inside out they were so dry. 

However, nothing that I anticipated turned out to be quite so colossal as 
what actually happened. 

The three of them picked me off the floor and tossed me onto the couch. 
Eddie grabbed me with his heavy hands, clutching me with his steel fingers 
around my thighs. He picked me up and actually turned me over in a 
somersault in mid-air. The other two caught me when I landed and kept me 
balanced on my head, my ass straight up in the air, and my legs jack-knifed 
down so that I was looking at my feet. 

Murphy was first. He got up on the couch and leaned against me before I 
could feel his prick tear into my asshole. 

I was just starting to enjoy Murphy's cock plunging into my butt, feeling 
its strong head treading against the tissues of my bowels. But one wasn't 
enough for them. Because then Eddie was hovering over me, trying to get some 
leverage on the crowded couch. Just as I figured out what they had in mind, 
he was stuffing his prick alongside Murphy's, and by pulling apart the 
burning ridges of my asshole managed to get it in. 

It felt like there was a burning log in there. My racing pulse, pounding in 
the strained arteries between my legs, thumped in counterpoint to their 
pulsing, stroking dicks. 

I couldn't believe the reality of two big pricks crammed into my tiny 
asshole. I was close to congratulating myself on my adaptability, when it 
occurred to me in a terrifying flash that there was somebody left over. 

Slobotski! 

Would they dare? After practically splitting me apart with two cocks up my 
ass, would they dare to attempt to impale me on a third? And not just any 
cock, but the biggest one I had ever seen! 

As I rested my weight on my head and shoulders, the blood rushed to my head, 
and I began dizzily praying about the third dick. The inevitability of the 
rending, tearing pain it would cause gave my prayers a frantic, desperate 
edge. But not because I was afraid. It was because I wanted it! I wanted 
that foot-long bar of iron bludgeoning away up my ass even if it tore me 
into a bloody pulp. If the other two cocks were already up my ass to the 
hilt, I wanted that monster third one in even farther. I'd like to suck his 
balls up inside of me. I'd like to suck up his prick so totally into my ass 
that I'd have to shit for him to get it back. 

But no anticipation or preparation could have got me ready, or anybody else 
in the world unless they had an asshole as big as a hollow log, for the 
introduction of that titanic prick in my ass alongside those other two. Even 
alone it would have felt as though it were shredding me like paper, and 
together with the other two pricks it was simultaneously the most exquisite 
and inhumane ever devised by man. 

If I had been carrying secrets for the CIA, I would have spilled them even 
if it meant the United States would be destroyed the next day, so 
overwhelming was the fabulous torture of their tearing tools inside me. As 
it was, all I could do was hang on and hope they didn't dismember me before 
I had the chance to come. 

When they came, I could feel their trio of spurts, not diminished by their 
previous ejaculations, shooting up my gut so far and in such volume that I 
was sure my stomach was now coated with the sticky whiteness of sperm. It 
would be dribbling and oozing out of my ass for days. 

For my part, I began to come in a way that I never had before. All of my 
insides seemed to grow together into one burning, blazing ball of fire. The 
ball grew bigger and bigger and burned hotter and hotter until the only 
thing in the universe that I was aware of was its fire, blazing like a 
meteor. The flames leaped and danced, completely wiping out everything else 
until they overtook me entirely and I could feel myself being incinerated in 
the inferno of my own incandescent passion. 

And then when they were through, they pulled out of me all at once, making 
the skin around my asshole shudder like it had been hit with the flat part 
of a paddle. I tumbled from the couch and landed in a heap on the floor, my 
legs splayed in complete exhaustion. 

Slobotski shambled over to where I was lying and loomed over me. Was it 
conceivable that he wanted more? I thought, looking up at him. 

But, ho, his cock had finally gone down, hanging from his furry bush now 
like a Polish sausage. 

If he didn't want to fuck, what could he have in mind? 

I soon found out as I saw his hand go to his holster and, in terror, watched 
him draw his gun. I'd thought up until now that I could prepare myself for 
anything they could throw at me. But, this? It turned me to jelly as I 
cowered, with tears streaming from my eyes, before him. 

He had the gun completely out of the holster now, its barrel gleaming as he 
fondled it. In the background I could see the other two, both of them 
watching as wide-eyed as I was. 

What was he going to do with that pistol which he was stroking like it was a 
living thing? 

My worst fears were suddenly realized as he crouched down and thrust his 
hand between my legs, the cold metal of the gun raising goose bumps along my 
inner thighs as he rubbed the barrel against my tightening skin. 

He moved in closer and flicked the dripping folds of my cunt with the 
barrel, poking around in a way that made my muscles, exhausted as they were, 
coil like springs, and the inner walls of my pussy clench like a fist. 

Now he was tickling my clit with the end of the barrel, but only for a few 
seconds before he lowered it a couple of inches and placed its cold neck 
between my quivering pussy-lips. 

Slowly he worked it past my cunt-lips, taking his time guiding the barrel up 
my pussy until it was in ail the way up to the trigger-guard. Never had 
anything felt so cold and cruel inside me. 

But the way it felt was nothing compared to the ugly sound which 
reverberated through the room like a miniature explosion when he pulled back 
and hammer and cocked it. 

I thought I was going to faint, but a terrible curiosity kept me alert as I 
watched his hand wrapped around the butt and his finger on the trigger 
through the valley of my spread-eagled legs. Murphy and Eddie seemed as 
astonished as I was, and they, too, were rendered mute and paralyzed by the 
horrible spectacle they were witnessing. 

Then, my eyes screened everything else out of the room, and focused like a 
zoom lens on his twitching finger on the trigger. I could see the coiled 
tension in his finger, and his pulse making it throb. 

I knew in advance when he was going to pull it. It was like having a prick 
up my cunt or in my mouth and sensing an ejaculation just before it 
occurred. His finger was like one of those cocks, coiled for a strike, 
crammed with tension so kinetic that after a certain point it had no choice 
but to explode. 

His finger pulled back, encircling the blue steel of the trigger, and I 
closed my eyes at last, ready to have my cunt blown to pieces. 

But, instead, what I heard was an innocuous, harmless click. 

I opened my eyes again and looked right into Slobotski's big doughy face and 
heard him speak for the first time through the din of the convulsive 
laughter of the other two sadists in the room. 

"Bang!" he said. 

 CHAPTER FIVE 

It took me three days to recover from what had happened to me with Eddie and 
the two policemen. Janie still wasn't completely over her cold, but I sent 
her back to school because I didn't want her around the house asking a lot 
of questions about Mommy's bruises all over her thighs and crotch, and why 
Mommy walked around like she had broken bottles stuffed up her cunt and ass. 

And, believe me, that's how much it hurt-like broken glass ripping and 
tearing against my womb and bowels when I tried to walk. However, when the 
pain would start to get the best of me, I would try to recapture the moment 
when I had all of those cocks inside me and a smile would cross my face. 
But, inevitably, then I would recall that madman Slobotski seeming like he 
was going to blow my cunt to pieces with his .38 special, and, worse, those 
idiots laughing at me in the background, and I would shake my head to erase 
my memories and be back alone with the pain between my legs. 

Besides, as stark an example of agony and ecstasy as it had been, no 
experience is lasting, and if I had expected what had happened would improve 
my relationship with Eddie, I was sadly mistaken. He was still the same 
inconsiderate slob as before, the only difference being that he had' two new 
playmates with interests similar to his, and was looking forward to going 
out to play on the weekend with Murphy and Slobotski, leaving me home alone, 
of course. I couldn't help but wonder if Murphy or Slobotski had a wife they 
were all going to fuck, too. 

I suppose I could have lain in bed recuperating for at least a week, feeling 
my cunt and asshole slowly drain the remnants of sperm stored in them, and 
occasionally fresh blood from a rip or tear that hadn't quite healed. 
However, on Friday, a neighbor who'd heard I was ill brought me up my mail, 
and once I saw what was in there, I bolted upright in bed and realized I had 
to get cracking again if I expected to survive. 

Collins had been more than true to his word. A letter from the Housing 
Authority informed me that not only had he added ten points to our record 
for "unauthorized use of Housing Authority refuse containers", but he had 
added up all the points on our record and had determined we had exceeded the 
limit and had to "vacate the premises as undesirable tenants". 

What could I do about this? I thought frantically. Going to the Housing 
Authority office and trying to talk to Collins wouldn't do any good; I'd 
already given him everything I had to offer and he'd still put the points on 
our record. If I went down there wiggling my ass, he'd probably fuck me in 
his office, and when it was all over tell me that he didn't mean anything 
personal about kicking us out, that he was just doing his job. 

No, I had to find help somewhere else. I got up and got dressed, slowly 
putting on my clothes so as not to hurt my tender spots, and also give 
myself some time to think. It was when I was pulling on a pair of corduroy 
jeans, wriggling my tender crotch into them, that an idea occurred to me. 

We weren't the only ones who had had trouble with the Housing Authority. My 
mind focused on a recent event I recalled where a couple had four children, 
and the wife was pregnant with another one. Without warning, when she came 
home from the hospital with the new baby, there was an eviction notice 
waiting for the family, telling them they now had too many people in their 
family for the number of rooms in their apartment and they would have to 
move. 

I sat down on the edge of the bed, trying to remember the full details of 
what had happened to the family. Finally, it occurred to me. They had gotten 
involved with something called the Citizens' Housing Authority Grievance 
Committee. I remembered now that it was a tenants' organization that had 
sprung up in the face of the atrocities constantly being committed by the 
Housing Authority, against the people who lived in the projects. It was run 
by a black man who had been around for years named Luther Jackson, who had 
started calling himself Rashid Barakwa and become a militant. The Housing 
Authority hated his organization and they'd tried to evict Barakwa from his 
project apartment, but he had gone to court and gotten a restraining order 
against them. And he'd done the same for the evicted family I had recalled. 

The Housing Authority wouldn't allow Barakwa's organization to officially 
conduct business on their property, so he operated in secrecy somewhere 
within the projects. It was probably over in the south building some place, 
the part of the projects where, despite the Housing Authority's denials that 
they arranged people by race, the blacks lived. The south building, as far 
as anyone knew, was 100 per cent black. 

As all of this information came to me, I realized that I had no alternative 
but to go over there, try and find him, and ask Barakwa to help me. But I'd 
have to keep it secret, even if I was doing it for the family. If Eddie 
found out I was "hanging around a bunch of niggers", as he would be sure to 
put it, he'd explode, using it as yet another excuse to beat the shit out of 
me. 

I took the elevator downstairs and started walking across the grounds 
towards the south building, with no idea where Barakwa's secret headquarters 
were.' It was obvious that I was going to have to ask somebody for 
directions. I made my way through the trash-littered yard in front of the 
building, being pursued by a mangy barking dog, looking for somebody to talk 
to. 

But when I reached the building and saw some people lolling on the steps, I 
was seized by anxiety. It immediately hit me that mine was the only white 
face in sight. The south building was completely black, and the angry, 
hostile stares I was getting were obviously coming because of the color of 
my skin. 

I walked slowly up the steps, growing more apprehensive by the moment. The 
hostile muttering of the people on the steps that I passed followed me 
inside the building. 

On a hunch, I turned down some concrete stairs I noticed in the dark in the 
middle of the corridor, and went down them. They led to the laundry room, a 
place I never went in in my own building since it had long since turned into 
a haven for junkies and flashers. 

I stopped a few steps from the bottom and looked at the scene in front of 
me, illuminated by a dim bulb hanging from the ceiling. The laundry room was 
full of men with nothing to do. I guess that while their wives, mothers, or 
girl friends were out doing domestic work, these unemployed men, on the 
pretense of doing the household laundry, hung around this place drinking 
beer and wine and gambling. 

Taking a deep breath to bolster my courage, I went down the last few steps. 

Once I had taken my foot off the final step, I couldn't have changed my mind 
about going inside had I wanted to. The minute they spotted me a wave of 
alertness spread across the smoky room, and their bored, nodding faces 
suddenly came to life, white grins splitting their black faces at the 
novelty of a white woman in their presence. 

They stood in undefined ranks leering at me until one of them stepped 
forward, establishing himself in my mind as their leader. He was a tall, 
rangy man, probably someplace in his late twenties, with coal-black skin. 
His hair was covered by a greasy, torn nylon stocking. A huge smile cut a 
ribbon across his dark face, revealing two or three of his teeth missing, 
and one in front a gleaming gold. A scraggly goatee covered his chin. 

"Watchoo wan', white lady?" he said as though the answer had better be good. 

"Well, actually," I said, trying to sound like I was in control of myself, 
"I was looking for somebody." 

"Lookin' for somebody in here?" he asked in mock incredulity. "Sheeeit, 
lady, you be a long way from home. You wanta buy yo'se'f some dope? That be 
it? Some pot?" 

"No, no," I said hurriedly. 

"Then, what could you all wan' from us in here?" he asked more pointedly. 

A voice from the background blurted, "Maybe she wan' some o' this." 

I looked among the ranks in back of the first talker, and, just as I managed 
to connect the second voice with a huge, muscular man by one of the dryers, 
felt the shock of astonishment shoot through me as I saw him openly rubbing 
his crotch. 

"Yeah, tha's right," he said when he saw me noticing him. "Some o' this. You 
wan' some dark meat, Miss Ann?" 

"No, I don't think so, not today, thank you," I said dumbly as I turned 
around to leave. 

But I never made it to the first step. The leader sprinted around and ahead 
of me and met me as he blocked the door to the steps. 

"C'mon, now, lady," he said, "you musta come in here fo' some reason. What'd 
it be?" 

"I'm looking for Rashid Barakwa," I said in a rush, deciding to risk asking. 

"You live in the projects?" he said. "Or's you from the Housing Authority?" 

"You think I'm a spy or something?" I said indignantly, without thinking. 

"Well, you white, ain't you?" he said as matter-of-factly as if he were 
describing the weather. 

"Yes ... but that doesn't mean...." 

"Then what do it mean?" he said. "What fo' you want our man Barakwa?" 

"I live in the projects. They're trying to evict my family on some 
trumped-up charge. I thought Mr. Barakwa could help." 

"Sheeeeit, now ain't that cheek!" he said and started laughing. With his 
apparent amusement at my reply, the others gathered around to see what was 
going on and get in on the fun at my expense. 

"Wha's happening, man, wha's this jive ass honkey tryin' to lay down on you, 
brother?" one of them said to the man in the door. 

"She lookin' fo' Barakwa to help her out. Dig that, a honkey comin' all the 
way over to here to have a nigger help 'em," the leader said to the others. 
"Only one kinda honkey do that. You ain't no Jew, is you, lady?" 

I shook my head no. 

"I say, she expect us to do somethin' for her, she got to do somethin' fo' 
us," an exceedingly skinny one in the back of the cluster of men said. 

"Right on," the huge, muscular one, rumbled gutturally. 

"Please, let me go," I pleaded to the one at the door. "I'm sorry I bothered 
you by coming in here." 

"Bother us? Sheeeeit," he said. "I don' think you done bothered no one. Just 
look at them dudes." 

I turned around and saw all of them straining in a mass towards me. Because 
I was familiar with him, my eyes went to the big, muscular one. Everything 
about him was still the same-the big, sneering grin, the twitching muscles 
in his arms under the thin T-shirt he was wearing-everything except one 
thing. As I looked to see if he was still rubbing his crotch, I saw that 
indeed he was, but now it was more for real: His long, black prick stood 
straight out from his fly, seeming as though it were poised to leap through 
the air at me. 

"Oh, my God!" I shrieked, my astonishment causing the others to start 
fumbling with their pants so they could pull their own dark cocks out and 
get in on their friend's act. 

I made up my mind that when I turned around, I was going to have to put all 
my effort into busting by the man blocking the door. I took a deep breath 
and threw myself around, trying to sweep past him with my momentum. 

But he was ready for me. His strong black arms encircled me and crushed my 
head to his chest. As I smelled the strong scent of his ebony skin, I 
suddenly felt something jabbing me insistently in the belly. I looked down 
and gasped, my bulging eyes taking in the full impact of the sight of his 
unsheathed, gleaming black prick standing stiff between us like an iron bar. 

I wanted out of there, and at the moment I was willing 'to resort to just 
about anything to escape. I reached down for his shining cock and wrapped my 
hands around it as though it were so compelling I couldn't resist touching 
and stroking it regardless of my state of mind up until that moment. 

I felt the small instant of relaxation I had hoped for when I had reached 
for his cock, and, when he relaxed, I seized the opportunity to twist his 
prick around in my hands as if it were a snake that I was trying to behead. 

"You lousy motherfuckin' honkey bitch!" he screamed at me as I released his 
wrenched pecker and elbowed my way past him, bolting up the stairs. 

The hallway reflected no light down the passageway to the laundry room, and 
as I bounded by the steps, I couldn't see where I was going, planning to 
just follow my nose until I was out of there. 

When I didn't make it, at first I thought I'd somehow run into a wall. At 
what I estimated was about two steps from the top, I suddenly collided with 
an unseen obstacle that didn't budge an inch as I flew backward on impact 
and toppled down the stairs, landing in a heap right where I'd started, at 
the feet of the men in the laundry room. 

"What'samatter, baby, you run into the wall, or you just scared?" the big, 
muscular one leered, waving his still visible black serpent of a cock at me. 
"Don't tell me that a nice white lady like yo'se'f done never seen one of 
these befo'e, and we done frightened you with our, heh, heh, dark meat." 

The others laughed knowingly, and without prompting started assembling in a 
circle around me, all of them tugging at their unanimously bulging crotches. 

Suddenly the air, heavy with their smug laughter, was cut in two by the 
blade of a sharply etched voice knifing through the room. "She didn't run 
into no wall," it said commandingly. "She ran into me." 

The crowd of black men froze at the sound of the voice, and waited 
expectantly like children in trouble for what was coming next as the 
footsteps of the owner of the voice slowly descended the stairs. 

Luther Jackson stood there looking down at me. I mean, that's what he'd been 
called up until recently. I'd seen him once a couple of years ago when the 
cops had made one of their special trips out to the projects to bust him for 
something or other. I remembered him being dragged kicking and screaming 
across the dirty brown grass of the projects and slammed up against the side 
of a patrol car while eight cops bad surrounded him, one of them supposedly 
frisking him by goosing him repeatedly with the end of a nightstick. They'd 
made so much noise, everybody at home that day in all four buildings had 
probably heard and seen it. 

But this Luther Jackson looming above me, while technically the same person 
as the man of two years ago, seemed obviously different. For one thing, this 
was the first time I'd seen him since he'd changed his name to Rashid 
Barakwa. Maybe the name had done something for him. He looked taller than 
I'd remembered him, for instance. But what really made him different was 
that before, despite all his resistance, he'd looked beaten before he 
started with those cops. But now he looked indomitable, as if he could take 
on a whole squad of cops and still handle himself. 

He was dressed all in leather that was polished to a sheen that matched his 
gleaming mahogany skin. I couldn't help but look up at him in awe. After 
just a few seconds of looking at him, the memory of his previous identity 
and what he had looked like before was erased. 

His strong, dark face looked sternly down at me, giving me no clue of how he 
regarded my presence here. Finally, he averted his gaze from me and looked 
towards the men still hovering around me like flies. They literally jumped 
when he looked at them. 

"What's going on here?" he demanded to know. "You dudes been hasslin' this 
lady?" 

"Well ... uh ... I...." the one with the nylon stocking cap stammered. "It 
was ... uh ... like this ... See ... this lady was, uh, lookin' for 
directions, an' we was jes helpin' her out." 

"Sure, sure," Barakwa said as though he were talking to a group of children. 
"That's why you and Washington got your pricks hangin' out." He gestured 
disdainfully at the big, muscular man, whose dick instantly went limp when 
he was singled out. "I suppose next you gonna tell me you was just usin' 'em 
to wave good-bye to her." 

There was no answer to that, and all of them just held their heads down. 

When he saw that they were properly humbled, he returned his gaze to me and 
reached down and helped me to my feet, putting his arm around my waist as he 
escorted me from the laundry room and back up the stairway. It was only when 
we were back in the hallway that he spoke. 

"You must be crazy goin' down there, girl," he said, shaking his head. 
"Unless, of course, you was really lookin' for what they was offerin'." 

"No, no," I said. "I was looking for you, as a matter-of-fact." 

"How'd you know that's my-" He stopped and paused, before clearing his 
throat and adding office." 

"I didn't," I said in surprise. "I just stumbled in there. But if that's 
your office, who're those men down there?" 

He laughed with what I thought was just the slightest trace of embarrassment 
and said, "I hate to admit this even more than that's my office, but they're 
my assistants." 

"Can't you do better than that?" I ventured. 

"If I had the right set-up, I could attract better people, better 
volunteers," he, admitted as I noticed that he was capable of dropping his 
ghetto inflection at will. "But I ain't exactly the Urban League or the 
NAACP yet," he lapsed back into it, "so I take what volunteers I can get. 
And these dudes ain't got nothin' to do with their time but volunteer. You 
dig?" 

I nodded that I understood. 

"So why was you lookin' for me?" 

We stood in the dark corridor as I told him my story about Collins and the 
ten points on our record that was getting us evicted, leaving out what had 
happened before Collins had announced he was putting the points on our 
record. However, even in the dark, I seemed to detect something from 
Barakwa's reaction to my story that he not only knew what I had left out, 
but also knew exactly what it was. 

When I had finished the story, I found myself blushing in the dark and felt 
a peculiar twinge between my legs. But I shook it off in my eagerness to get 
some help, and pleaded, "Can you help me?" 

"I think I can," he said confidently, and my heart soared with hope. "But I 
got to discuss it with you in private. Can't tell who might overhear us in 
these halls. The Housing Authority even got spies in this building." 

"Here?" I said in surprise. 

"Yeah. You'd think niggers'd know better," he said bitterly. 

"Where shall we go?" I asked, anxious to get something happening to save the 
apartment. 

However, thinking back on it, maybe there was a second motivation on my 
part: the desire to be alone with Barakwa, this man of excitement. For if 
the truth were known, even if I was trying to suppress it myself at the 
moment, I was being sexually turned on by him just by being in his physical 
presence, and we weren't even touching. I tried to ignore the dampening of 
my crotch; however, there was no way I could deny the sticky fabric of my 
sopping panties clinging lasciviously to my pussy. 

"Let's try the janitor's storeroom," he said. "Nobody'll be usin' that room 
till tomorrow." 

He led me from where we were standing to farther down the hall, and then 
around a comer until we were at an elevator which had an "Out of Order" sign 
draped across it. 

He pulled a plastic card out of his wallet and went to work on the lock of 
an unmarked door next to the elevator. In a minute the door was open and he 
motioned me inside, kicking the door closed behind me. 

After he pulled the chain on the light, he motioned me over to a bench 
adjacent to a pile of folded tarps. 

I sat down, and, while he remained standing about a foot in front of me, 
Barakwa started talking about how he intended to handle my problem. "The 
thing is," he said, "if we go to court with it, we may win, but we may lose. 
These judges aroun' here don't pay no attention to the law-they just decide 
on their prejudices. Most of 'em are prejudiced against us, and once in a 
while for us." 

"Then, what can I do?" I asked. 

"I think the best thing to do is use your case as part of an example. Take 
it to the people," he said dramatically as he smashed his fist into his open 
palm for emphasis. 

His power radiated before me as he made the gesture with his fist, and I 
felt myself overwhelmed by just being in the same room with him. By now I 
was forced to pay conscious attention to the moist phenomenon that was 
taking place between my legs, as my cunt would not stop creaming with 
excitement, inundating my panties all the way to the legs and around to the 
rear, making me feel, while I sat in a sticky pool accumulated in my jeans 
on the hard bench, as though I had wet my pants. 

I felt a stream of pussy juice trickle down my inner thigh as I looked up at 
his strong dark face, starry-eyed, and asked him what kind of example he had 
in mind. 

"We got a lotta people like you that're bein' ripped off by the Housing 
Authority with almost identical hassles. Been buildin' up after people heard 
'bout some of our successes in the beginning. If we took all them to court, 
it'd take forever. So we gotta lump 'em together somehow to get the 
attention we need for action." 

I was trying to pay attention to what he was saying, but by now the majority 
of my awareness was concentrated on the damp tightening in my crotch, the 
lusty friction of the sopping fabric of my panties rubbing maddeningly 
against my agitated pussy-lips. While I was trying to concentrate on his 
face, trying to listen to him, I didn't have the self-control to keep from 
taking surreptitious peeks at his groin, imagining what must be making the 
inviting rise in his leather pants just below the waist. 

"Do you understand what I'm trying to get at?" he asked insistently, 
catching me paying attention to the suggestion of his cock and balls in his 
pants rather than to what he was trying to tell me. 

"Oh ... yes ... yes ... sure," I said, stumbling over my words as I lifted 
my gaze to his face and blushed. 

He looked down at me a long, quiet moment before he cleared his throat and 
resumed talking. "What I'm talkin' 'bout is a demonstration. Everybody with 
a bad rap from the Housing Authority in a demonstration smack dab in the 
middle of the projects until somethin' is done about the complaints. A sit 
down. And nobody moves until those bastards come across with what we want. 
We block the exits so they can't get in or out of the apartments of the 
people who're protesting." 

Agreeing to that would be quite a commitment, not to mention what Eddie 
would think and do-even if our apartment was on the line-when he found out I 
was planning to camp on the ground in the middle of the projects, probably 
with a lot of blacks. Normally, I would have thought long and hard about the 
issues involved before I gave an answer whether I would participate in the 
plan. But there was no question at the moment. I was held completely in sway 
by the dynamic Barakwa, and would have followed him any place. The only 
indecision was what for: to save my apartment, or to do something about the 
tense, gooey feeling in my oozing cunt? 

"Yes, I'll do it," I replied breathlessly. 

"Are you sure?" he said, taking a step that closed the already small gap 
between us. 

His leg touched my knee, just that minimal contact sending vibrations of 
further arousal coursing through my loins, singeing the arteries of my cunt 
with the rush of hot blood. 

My eyes, as though they were under the control of my pussy instead of my 
brain, lowered from his handsome face to his groin again. Was my imagination 
deceiving me or had the mound between his legs swollen into a complete 
bulge, the outline of his cock and balls pulsing invitingly as his leather 
pants tightened ten inches down his leg? 

Did he sense what was going on inside of me? I wondered desperately. 
Something had to happen quickly or I was going to have some explaining to do 
when my pussy juice drenched through my jeans and slid down my legs all the 
way to the tops of my shoes. Was I deceiving myself, or had his knowledge of 
my horny condition actually turned him on and made his dick grow? 

It had fully come into my mind by now that I wanted to be taken by this 
powerful-looking black man. The promise of unrestrained sex with him had 
gradually pushed my problems with the Housing Authority out of my mind to 
the point where all my thoughts were now concentrated on an image of a long 
black dick sliding in and out of my clutching, frothy white pussy. 

I wanted him to fuck me, there were no two ways about it. But at the same 
time I was so much in awe of him that I was afraid to change the subject 
from his proposed demonstration, so earnest and committed did he seem to be 
about it. Basking in his militancy, the idea of interrupting his planning 
for a fuck should have seemed frivolous, except that my pounding heart and 
pulsating tits and cunt didn't give a hoot about any social relevance as 
they ached to be sucked and fucked by this potential sex machine standing 
over me. I longed to have his long black shaft rubbing with the lubrication 
of its own cum between my solidly compressed tits, but I was immobilized by 
my anxiety from saying anything about my wanton desire. 

He was talking about the planned demonstration, when he abruptly stopped and 
looked searchingly down at me for a long moment before he let his hand drop 
to his crotch and said softly, "Do you want to suck it?" 

My answer was my flying hands zeroing in on his taut fly and unzipping it as 
fast as I could to get his prick. I immediately had it out, marveling at how 
its appearance so completely matched the image of it that I had been 
secretly savoring. 

I wanted to see all of his magnificent body, so I unloosened the buckle of 
his belt and undid his pants, pulling them down along his long, muscular 
legs. He stepped out of them and I looked hungrily at his powerful thighs 
and high, sloping buttocks. 

But most of all my mouth watered uncontrollably at his erect cock, standing 
straight out from the matted hair of his groin, two glistening balls looking 
like black eggs hanging down from the root of its throbbing shaft. 

Just as I had made him naked, I wanted to enter into this just as totally 
myself. I didn't want any fumbling around later. When he finally slipped his 
sleek cock between the hairy, waiting lips of my quivering pussy, I wanted 
to touch nothing but his black skin. I wanted to feel that muscular black 
meat against me as he fucked me. 

Quickly, I removed all of my clothing and stood there completely naked, 
pussy juice trickling down my legs as I watched him take off the rest of his 
leather. 

When he was naked, I dropped to my knees before him as if I were worshiping 
at an altar, and slowly slid my trembling lips over the graceful lines of 
his stiff, protruding cock, looking down and getting even more turned on by 
the contrast of his ebony skin with my pink, puckering lips. 

His cock had a rich and strong taste to it that sent shivers down my spine 
and all the way up through the pulpy mass of my twitching pussy. Slowly and 
elaborately, I worked my mouth up and down his elongated shaft, lingering 
tantalizingly on the bulging head of his prick and running my tongue 
sensuously over the tip and around the flange; and, then, without warning, 
plunging his dick into my mouth to the hilt, completely swallowing it so 
that only his tightening balls were visible. 

While he rucked me in the mouth, my fingers played games with his balls, 
rubbing them as though they were magic and a genie would appear to grant me 
my wish if I kept it up. But if that had been true, and a genie or a fairy 
godmother had actually appeared, at that moment I would have sent them 
packing because I already had my wish with his power-laden, dusky prick 
ramrodding in my slobbering, sucking mouth. 

"Down ... get down," he ordered me in a husky voice obviously tinged with 
the wonderful agony of. the maddening friction I was putting his cock and 
balls through. 

I slowly lowered myself on my back onto the pile of tarps, throwing my hands 
around his waist and clinging to him, pulling him down with me so I wouldn't 
lose his luscious prick even for an instant. 

He lay directly on top of me, his cock jammed all the way into my mouth. 
Then he slowly twisted his body around, the thin skin of his prick twisting 
deliciously in my grasping mouth as he did so. When he was finished with 
this maneuver, his pelvis slammed into my face in a powerful fucking motion 
as he reamed out my mouth and throat with his insistent tool while he 
simultaneously lowered his head between my open, trembling thighs and took a 
gentle but wanton bite out of my waiting, sopping cunt. I instantly closed 
my legs on him, trapping him in the web of my pussy so he couldn't escape. 

Apparently he didn't mind being the prisoner of my thighs as he ate my pussy 
with the gusto of a starving man. Every thrust of his lips, tongue and teeth 
against my hairy, juicy gash accelerated my ecstasy and impelled me to try 
and get his cock even deeper in my mouth. I put my hands to his rock-like 
balls and felt them coated with my spit as I attempted to stuff them into my 
mouth along with his cock. I could only get one of them inside, but I made 
the best of it as I literally nibbled on it, knowing my work was appreciated 
when he bucked his hips at my face with a primitive rhythm. 

The finger of a free hand traced the seam that went from the back of his 
balls all the way to his asshole. My sensitive fingertip could feel the 
ridges of his bung puckering at my touch, and, without hesitating, I 
immediately thrust my finger all the way to the second knuckle up his ass 
and began rotating it, expanding my radius as the muscles in his tight hole 
loosened. 

Down below I was now meeting every gouge in my cunt by his voracious mouth 
with a powerful upward thrust, socking my sloppy, steaming cunt wantonly 
into his face. As it battered against his slurping mouth, I could hear the 
wet glove of my cunt compress from the impact, filling the room with the 
sound of a resounding squish, a spray of pussy juice flying from the union 
of his mouth and my box. 

I could feel his stabbing prick continue to swell in my mouth, perceptibly 
verging on bursting forth with an explosion of spurting jism. I hated to 
take his tasty dick out of my mouth, but I wanted to feel the onslaught of 
his hot sperm inside my cunt, filling my insides with the impact of his 
creamy load. 

I took his cock out of my mouth and sat up, rolling Barakwa over on his back 
so his prick was standing straight up in the air. I couldn't resist giving 
it a slurping kiss, lingering my tongue over the throbbing knob before I got 
down to business. I crouched over him, centering my gaping, dripping crotch 
over the standing target of his erect cock. Slowly I let myself down, easing 
the mantrap of my slobbering cunt over his waiting prick, and then 
continuing on down until the cheeks of my ass rested on his belly and .his 
cock was buried to his rock-like balls in my cunt. 

I began rotating my hips and pelvis, feeling his cock twisting high up 
inside me, its head insistently nudging the opening to my womb. I felt his 
arms snake around me and his strong hands grasp my tits as I fucked him, his 
fingers fondling the hard marbles my nipples had become while his prick 
soared inside me. 

His cock was so hard it was like sitting on a pole. I knew it would keep 
standing straight up no matter what I did, so slowly I began raising myself, 
agonizingly tugging his foreskin up his prick as I took it all the way to 
his knob with my clutching pussy. Balanced in mid-air with just the head of 
his dick snared between my grasping cunt-lips, I did a little dance, 
contracting my pussy muscles with all my might to keep his prick "inside me 
and to drive him wild as I shimmied with abandon. And, then, just as he 
started to moan in excruciation, I quickly dropped my ass to his loins, my 
cunt sliding down his stiff prick like a fireman going down a greased pole 
to a 3-alarm fire. My sloppy cunt landed against Barakwa's tensed muscles 
with a squishing splat as he met my charge with a fierce upward thrust of 
his hips, grinding his cock even farther up my pussy. 

When he came, I wanted to be engulfed by him. I twisted around 180 degrees 
on his cock so that I was facing him. I took a quick downward look at his 
fantastic black prick buried inside the pale white glove of my pussy, and 
then pitched forward on him, his long cock still firmly imbedded inside my 
hole. 

He rolled us over so that he was on top now, and crushed his heavy black 
lips on my mouth. His hot breath reeked of the aroma of my cunt and I loved 
it. I shot my tongue like a lance between his wet, fleshy lips and explored 
the inside of his mouth, tasting the delicious residual flavor of my own 
pussy while his cock bucked away inside my steaming snatch. 

His hard muscles crushed against me as we fucked wildly. His powerful chest 
pressed tightly against my tits and flattened them. My nipples were rubbed 
into a state of turgid frenzy by the wiry hair on his chest, the only 
solution for their swelling being for me to come again and again until I was 
drowned in a sea of pure, unadulterated sexual pleasure. 

Our pelvises and hips were welded together now as if they were part of the 
same person as we rocked up and down, back and forth, my pussy muscles 
clutching tighter and tighter around his charging cock. And, then, as he 
plowed into me with extra vigor so I felt as though his cock was going to go 
right through me, I realized that we had taken it as far as was humanly 
possible, that we had explored the dimensions of sucking and to fucking the 
maximum, and the only thing left to do was come. 

A trillion volts of sexual electricity were suddenly unleashed from 
someplace inside me and instantly charred my body with their intensity, 
sending shocks of ecstasy through every bone and pore in an incredible burst 
of energy. I came again and again-each orgasm building on top of the others 
until I was swathed in a tissue of heavenly release. 

He answered me by thrusting his cock even farther up my fuck-hole, extending 
some more when I would have thought he had already reached the ultimate. His 
cum erupted in a tidal wave against the spongy walls of my hungry cunt, 
bathing them with sticky sperm. The onslaught of rich, boiling jizz inside 
of me triggered a new surge of orgasm in me, and I wriggled like a speared 
frog impaled on his lance as I convulsed beneath him. 

Finally, the last ounce of energy had been drained from each of us, and we 
lay side by side, our genitals oozing the last drops of orgasmic fluid. When 
we finally parted, after a long, lingering kiss during which I fucked his 
mouth with my ravenous tongue and clutched his cock and balls for good luck, 
we agreed that we would meet after the weekend on Monday, and, along with 
the other protesters, launch the demonstration against the Housing 
Authority. 

 CHAPTER SIX 

Once I got home, the thrill of fucking Barakwa gradually began to mellow, 
until, finally, I wasn't wholly consumed with visions of his exquisite black 
prick snaking in and out of my pale cunt and mouth. And from that point on, 
once I started being aware of minute to minute reality, things started to 
deteriorate. 

The weekend was hell. For one thing, if you can believe it, Eddie actually 
brought those two cops, Murphy and Slobotski, over for some drinks about one 
or two o'clock in the morning one night, and they unbelievably sat around 
and talked about a Filipino hooker they had gang-banged, refused to pay, and 
beaten up, while I waited on them. The next day I couldn't restrain myself 
and said something to Eddie about it, and he smacked me across the face and 
chipped one of my teeth. 

Then there was Johnny, my twelve-year-old. He had come back after the fight 
with Eddie, but now he disappeared again. He never came in on Saturday 
night. I didn't want to call the police, being not ready to endure another 
experience with them at the moment, and on Sunday asked around the projects 
if anyone had seen my boy. A lot of people said that he was around, and that 
made me feel better. 

Then, while I was walking back to the building, after looking around for 
him, I heard Johnny's familiar voice off in the background and turned 
around. By squinting my eyes I could just make him out running across the 
brown grass a few hundred yards away with a group of children. My God, they 
looked like a pack of wild dogs, I thought, as I called to him. 

Finally, my cries reached his ears, and, in the midst of the frenzy of 
activity, he stopped and looked towards me. 

"Johnny, come home," I called. "Come home." 

He continued looking at me. Then, without calling back, he turned away from 
me and returned to the crowd, losing himself in its swirl as the gang of 
children moved away until it disappeared behind a building. 

I hesitated, and then realizing that there was nothing I could do, walked 
sadly back towards home. 

When I got inside, I intended to tell Eddie about Johnny and ask him what we 
should do, but he was completely lost in watching football on television. 
Finally, though, after I stood watching him with unconcealed disgust for a 
number of minutes, he did notice me. 

"Where've ya been?" he demanded to know. 

"I was looking for Johnny, he-" I said. 

"Fuck that shit," he interrupted in a growl. "Let the kid take care of 
himself. Good for'm ... Now I been waitin' here for you to bring me a brew 
for so long I'm about ready to collapse from thirst. Get me a beer. Now!" 

The pans and dishes in the kitchen were still rattling from Eddie's 
bellowing when I scooted in there and opened the refrigerator for some beer. 

There wasn't any. I became hysterical. 

"I've got to get out of here," I gasped to myself. I wasn't thinking in 
terms of permanence, however; 

I was just reacting to my immediate gut feeling, the way I would have had I 
been stuck on a railroad track with a speeding locomotive coming at me. 

I scribbled down a note, "Be back tomorrow. Take care of the kids," signed 
it with my first initial, and tiptoed out of the kitchen to the edge of the 
living room. It was easy to get out, so absorbed was Eddie in the spectacle 
of grown men smashing each other around in the television set. I tiptoed 
around the perimeter of the room, giving him a wide berth, and, then, at the 
most opportune moment, dashed for the front door and got it opened and 
closed before the big tub of lard could move a flabby muscle. 

Now where would I go? I couldn't face the prospect of wandering aimlessly 
around the projects again, so I decided to go down to the fourth floor and 
see Myra, a sort of a friend of mine, and ask her if I could spend the 
night. 

The main reason I picked on Myra was that I knew she had recently been 
divorced, meaning that she would have less of a reason to say no if I asked 
her if I could spend the night with her. Besides, in the times I had talked 
to her she had always seemed like she had a good sense of humor, and I 
thought maybe an evening with her would take my mind off some of my 
troubles. 

I walked down the stairs to the fourth floor and found her apartment. She 
answered on the first knock, opening the door just slightly because of a 
chain she still had locked. 

"Edna," she said, "what can I do for you?" 

"Well ... I ... uh...," I stammered, unable to get what I wanted to say out, 
embarrassed now by my plight. 

"Say, no more," she said, unlocking the chain and opening the door all the 
way. "You're having trouble at home and you want to know if you can spend 
the night. Am I right?" 

"How did you know?" I asked in astonishment at her ability to apparently 
read my mind. 

"It's a snap. I could see it in your face. I must have looked at the same 
expression in the mirror on my own face a million times while I was still 
married." 

"Really?" I said, feeling perceptibly better knowing I wasn't alone in the 
world with the kind of problem I had. 

"You better believe it," she said. "Anybody who's ever been married'll tell 
you the same, if she's honest. Come on in." 

I gratefully accepted her invitation, and, as she closed the door behind us, 
asked, "You don't seem that way now. What'd you do about it?" 

"Very observant, cookie," she said. "If you'll look around my apartment, 
you'll catch on to the answer to that real quick." 

"I don't understand what you mean." 

"Simple. Look around and tell me if you can find one sign, one trace of a 
man. Believe me, you won't. I threw my problems out the door." 

"You, mean...." 

"Right, kiddo, my husband. Once I got rid of that clown, my life began." 

"But don't you miss having a man around?" I asked as I walked across the 
room and sat down. 

"Not on your life," she replied emphatically. 

"How's it turned out?" I asked with intense curiosity, wondering what it 
would be like to be completely on my own. 

"See for yourself," she said happily, "I'm doing terrific." 

"Don't you ever get lonely?" 

"No," she scoffed as the sound of barking came from the kitchen and a big, 
shaggy German shepherd bounded into the living room and started sniffing my 
crotch. 

"Down, boy," she said to the dog, patting him on the head. "I've found that 
Bluto here is better company than any man I ever knew. He's a lot more 
reliable, doesn't beat me up, doesn't squander my money, and is always there 
when I need him." 

She seemed so positive and emphatic in her views that I felt uncomfortable 
about asking her any more questions which might imply reservations about her 
life-style. Anyway, how could I logically question anybody else's way of 
life? In any comparison, mine would come up short. 

"Want a drink?" Myra asked, and, when I said yes, went into the kitchen and 
returned with a tall, frosty glass of something that tasted like heaven and 
put me immediately at ease. 

What a pleasure it was to be sitting around quietly relaxing on a Sunday 
instead of being besieged by Eddie's infantile demands and barraged by the 
endless bone-crunching spectacle of football. 

Myra had made a drink for herself and sat down beside me. "You feel like 
telling me what happened, or do you want me to mind my own business?" she 
said cheerfully. 

I was delighted to have someone to confide in, to share my burden with. I 
told her how unhappy I was, and how confused. When I said I didn't think I 
had the strength to solve my problems the way she had, Myra was completely 
understanding. 

"Don't worry about it now, honey," Myra said, throwing a gentle arm around 
me. "Just relax and take it easy. Spend a pleasant night here, and start to 
figure out what you're going to do tomorrow morning." 

Tomorrow morning! I had forgotten all about it. 

Barakwa and the demonstration. It was certain to be a hectic affair. Could I 
endure it? Could I afford not to? 

I closed my eyes to seal off the torment from the impinging past and 
threatening future, and took a long swallow from my drink, not stopping 
until I saw the bottom of the glass. The alcohol plunged into my stomach 
like a lightning bolt and then emanated its warmth through my whole body, 
jarring my brain. I felt queasy at first, but within seconds I started to 
relax and feel comfortable. 

"Ah, you're looking better," Myra said to me after I had started to loosen 
up. "Want something to eat?" 

"Sure, sure, why not?" I said easily. "Can I help you with something?" 

"Hell, no," Myra laughed as she started for the kitchen. "You're here for 
rest. Period." 

What a delight it was to be around this woman. She was so pleasant and 
thoughtful. I couldn't help but think what my life would be like if I lived 
with someone like her. What a difference it would make! 

Myra came briefly back into the living room to give me a fresh drink. I took 
a healthy swig from the new drink, and, as the alcohol rushed to my brain 
with a swoop, watched Myra walk back into the kitchen while I speculated on 
the issue of sex. 

What if I did live with someone like Myra? What would I do with myself when 
I started to feel horny? More than a little tipsy, I eyed her walking away 
from me, noticing the form of her body as the light shone through the loose 
muumuu she was wearing to give definition to her shape. How different it was 
than a man's, than Eddie's. 

My mind made a picture of Eddie in the nude, his pot belly hanging grossly 
over his shriveled-up cock and balls, supported by skinny, match-stick legs. 

I imagined Myra beneath her muumuu, picturing long, flowing lines, taut 
muscles and gentle slopes of soft flesh. 

I tried to picture myself holding each of them. The smell of garbage from 
Eddie wafted into my nostrils from my imagination. Without actually touching 
anything I could feel the clammy flab of Eddie's hanging, yellow fat. 

Then I was on satin sheets holding someone like Myra, our tits pressed 
together in our embrace, the nipples crushing each other like rose petals; 
the soft down of our pussies intermingling as our clits rubbed against each 
other; our smooth legs intertwined. 

Abruptly, my thoughts were interrupted by Myra calling from the kitchen, 
"You're so quiet in there, kid. A penny for your thoughts." 

Uncontrollably, I found myself blushing, and my crotch suddenly felt hot and 
scratchy in my panties. "Oh ... nothing ... it's nothing...." I stammered 
warily. 

"Oh, it's something all right," she said. "But it's best for you to get it 
out in your own sweet time ... Now, you about ready to eat?" 

I said I was, and in ten minutes we were seated across from each other at 
the kitchen table eating dinner. 

The part about the dinner that I'll always remember was the Polish sausage. 
When she was eating, Myra was like she apparently was about everything else: 
enthusiastic. She explained to me that she didn't like to cut the sausage 
with a knife because a lot of the juice ran out on the plate that way. That 
explained to me in advance so I wouldn't be horrified by her table manners, 
she took a huge piece of sausage almost a foot long and stuck the rounded 
end in her mouth and chomped down on it. 

As her mouth closed over the end of the long tube of sausage, J could hear 
the juice spurting into her mouth, and actually see some of it that had 
escaped trickling thickly down her chin. 

I had already finished my second stiff drink and was working on another one. 
I wasn't used to so much alcohol, and the amount I had had clouded my mind 
and made it difficult for me to mentally put my finger on things. I was just 
floating, feeling what came to me. So when she stuffed that sausage in her 
mouth and the juice came spurting out, I instantaneously felt turned on 
without immediately understanding why. 

"What's the matter, hon?" she asked in the midst of chewing the sausage, 
some more of its succulent juice dribbling from the corner of her mouth. 

I looked at her blankly. Eventually, as I refocused my eyes, I blurted, "It 
looks just like a prick," and broke into giggles without making any 
connection between the growing tightness in my cunt and what I had just 
said. 

She raised her eyebrows and said, "A nice girl like you using such language, 
tsk, tsk," and then broke up, too. 

As Myra laughed, I could see the suggestion of her tits wobbling freely 
beneath the loose fabric of her clothing. At one point I thought I could 
make out the faintest outline of her nipples. 

Recovering from her laughter, she said, "You're right. It does look like 
somebody's prick. And believe me, that's the only way I want one-cut off 
from its owner." 

I suppose I nodded, but at the moment my mind was a thousand miles away. I 
was imagining the sausage, stiffened from its natural curve, its round end 
defined into a jutting head, rolling disembodied over what I envisioned 
Myra's naked body to be like. It moved on its own, rolling over her belly, 
and then she grabbed it and pressed it between her tits. It got loose, 
rubbing its flanged head insistently against her pursed lips before she 
caught it again and thrust it between her open legs, stuffing it into her 
moist, hairy pussy. It worked its way out of her cunt and protruded from 
between her thighs, looking like it was part of her body, its shaft emerging 
from the curly thicket of her groin. She grabbed it, wrapping her hands 
around it and tugging vigorously. The juice spit at least six inches in the 
air as she tugged too hard and the sausage came apart in her hands, settling 
into a greasy, steaming pile of glistening meat over her furry cunt-mound. 

"Jesus, kid," she said with concern, "you all right? You look right now like 
you're in outer space." 

She got up and came around the table. As she did so, I could see the lines 
of her body working against the fabric of her muumuu, and something occurred 
to me that in my high condition I couldn't restrain from pointing out. 

"You don't have anything on under that," I declared breathlessly. 

"A person should be comfortable in her own home," she responded with a 
smile. "Sometimes, even this is too much bother for me and I just fling it 
off and run around naked as a jaybird." 

She looked me right in the eye, and then exclaimed, "Like this!" 

The muumuu was off in an instant and she stood before me. I was right-she 
had been totally naked underneath it. 

I couldn't take my eyes off her body. It was everything I had imagined, and 
more. Myra must have been in her late thirties or early forties, but you 
would never have known it by her body. Especially her tits. They were great, 
sloping masterpieces, with hard, taut flesh sloping down and then swooping 
up so that each of her long, pink nipples was like the spout at the end of a 
tea-pot. 

And then those nipples, before my eyes, changed from a rosy pink to a fiery 
red texture, growing by the second until they stuck straight out in turgid 
erection. 

As Myra's nipples grew redder and harder, my cunt started to gush, filling 
my panties with a discharge of creamy fluid as I twitched uncontrollably. 

The sopping between my thighs, combined with the hot flashes from the 
thrilling sight of Myra's tits, disoriented me, and I bolted to my feet with 
my mouth agape, wanting to say something, but frustrated by my inability to 
find any words. 

I could see by the smile on her face that she understood. Without saying a 
word she stated loudly and clearly, "Look all you want." 

And I did. My eyes finally passed from her exquisite tits down the muscular 
seam of her hard stomach. Her cocked legs and parted legs gave me a perfect 
shot of her belly working down into the thatch of her bush, a hairy forest 
that curled all over her crotch and along the sides of her inner thighs, the 
most luxuriant growth of cunt hair I had ever seen. I couldn't help but 
wonder what it would be like to bury my face in such a growth, or to feel my 
own cunt pressing against it. 

From her pussy, sinewy, long legs descended gracefully to the floor. Even 
her feet seemed beautiful to me as they supported her strong, lean body. 

I was dumbfounded from the combination of the alcohol and the shimmering 
beauty before me. I shook my head to clear it, but undefined obsessions 
inside my skull refused to leave, and I found myself still panting and 
confused, all of my awareness suddenly focused on the sensation of a glob of 
pussy juice seeping out of the leg of my panties and sliding down my leg. 

Myra advanced towards me until her erect nipples were actually brushing 
against my tits, teasing themselves against the fabric of my sweater. Their 
stiffness was so profound that I could easily feel their points through the 
material. 

"You know you want it," Myra cooed soothingly. "You don't have to say 
anything, because I know it, too." 

I was dumbfounded. How did she know even before I seemed to know myself that 
I wanted to make love with her? In addition to her other qualities, could 
she also read my mind? 

It made no difference how she figured out I craved her body. The only 
important thing was that we were alone together with nothing to stop us from 
exploring and titillating each other's bodies to the ultimate. 

My reply to her bold assertion about my desires was to confirm her statement 
by throwing my arms around her neck and crushing my lips to hers, thrusting 
my hot tongue into her wet mouth. She met my oral thrust with her own 
licking tongue, and added to the total thrill by rubbing her naked belly 
against me, spreading her legs so that her hard stomach pressed tightly 
against me all the way down to the crinkly hair of her bush. 

From the way she was rubbing against me, I didn't need an engraved 
invitation to know what to do next. I thrust my leg up between her parted 
thighs, feeling the hot dampness of her cunt against my skin. 

After we had Frenched for so long I was fighting for breath, I pulled away, 
preparing to remove my clothes so our naked bodies would have no artificial 
barriers between them as we made love. 

But when I began to pull my sweater over my head, I heard Myra cry, "No, no, 
let me do it." 

I pulled the sweater back down and stood there with my heart pounding, 
waiting for her to tell me what to do next. 

"Lie down and relax," she said. "Let me take care of everything." 

I did as she instructed, lying on my back in the middle of her living-room 
carpet, wondering incongruously for a moment how she had managed to get such 
an expensive rug in here without the Housing Authority finding out about it 
and investigating her financial eligibility. 

She walked saucily towards me, sexily twitching her hips as she moved, 
causing the muscles in her hard abdomen to come excitingly to life. She 
dropped to her knees, and, placing a hand on each knee, slowly parted my 
legs. My skirt fell to my waist, exposing my horny cunt covered only by 
panties transparent from their dampness. 

"I see you're good and wet," she said with a chuckle, and then moved in 
between my open legs and pressed her nose to the sopping fabric of my 
panties, taking a long, lingering sniff. 

"Mmmmm," she moaned as she nuzzled her nose against my pussy, "I love it." 

One of her fingers snaked inside the elastic of my panty-leg and pushed 
aside the damp fabric enough .to creep across the fringe of my cunt hair and 
tickle my slobbering pussy-lips. 

"Oh, God, stick it in," I groaned from the floor, dying to taste something 
inside my ravenous cunt. 

"Musn't get ahead of ourselves," she tittered, pulling out her finger. 
"First things first." 

She withdrew from between my thighs and inserted the finger she had just 
wiped my pussy with into her mouth, smacking her lips from the taste of my 
cunt juice. 

"And they say sperm tastes good," she said contemptuously. "Pussy juice is 
not only better tasting, it's better for you. It's less starchy and has 
fewer calories than jism." 

When she was finished savoring the juice of my cunt, Myra turned her 
attention to my clothing, and began removing it. She took her time, 
carefully unbuttoning and unzipping everything, and folding them in a neat 
pile on the floor beside us. First, my blouse came off, accompanied by 
several soft caresses of my tits as she unbuttoned it. Then my skirt was 
unfastened and drawn over my legs. My bra was unhooked and my freed tits 
allowed to spill easily over my heaving chest. She flicked my nipples into 
turgid knobs before she finally moved down to the last item, my panties, 
slowly working them over my hips, down my thighs, over my knees, and along 
my calves and ankles until they were over my feet and I was totally nude. 

Then, from my vantage point, looking down my body and out through the V of 
my gaping legs, I saw her take my sopping panties, and, wringing them like a 
wet washrag, put them over her open mouth and squeeze every last drop of my 
pussy juice out of them, some of it drooling languorously down her chin. 

"Delicious," she said when she was finished, running her tongue over her 
sticky lips. "It's like eating the olive from a martini." 

When she was finished, she threw the panties over with my other clothing and 
hurled her body on top of mine, our mouths squashing hotly against each 
other once more, our stabbing tongues getting out of each other's way so 
they could penetrate the other's lips. 

Myra's large, hard tits pressed against mine, our nipples so hard we were 
practically in danger of puncturing each other's tits. The column of muscles 
starting beneath her tits and descending down to her groin throbbed against 
my body as I trembled under her expert touch. 

Her knee was in my crotch, pushing up against my cunt, bathing its smooth 
skin in the soggy sponge of my pussy. But, then, she pulled it out and moved 
her pussy directly on top of mine, wiggling her pelvis until she was in the 
exact position she wanted. 

In a moment I could see why she was so meticulous about where she placed 
herself. Our pussies were directly together, each fold and crevice pressing 
against the corresponding detail on the other's cunt. Our slimy cunt-lips 
vertically kissed, the bubbling froth of our discharges intermingling into a 
sticky soup. And, most importantly, our clits had collided, each of them 
stabbing against the other, causing our hips to undulate with unrestrained 
passion. 

As our cunts and mouths kissed, I became obsessed with the slurping thrill 
of a drooling orifice to suck and probe. The more I tasted Myra's sweet 
kisses, and felt our thrusting pussies squish together, the more eager I 
became for the ultimate of oral love. 

I broke my lips free from Myra's mouth and moved them wetly against her 
cheek up to her ear. "Your cunt," I whispered. "I want to eat your cunt. I 
want to taste it. I want to suck it." 

Wordlessly, she moved her body around on top of me, using her hard stomach 
as a pivot until the extremities of her body were completely reversed and 
her head was buried between my quivering thighs, while the sopping, 
vibrating gash of her hairy, slobbering cunt looked me squarely in the eye. 

I placed my hands on the firm cheeks of her ass and dug my fingers into 
their solid flesh, bringing the mouth of her hairy cunt to my waiting, 
hungry mouth. Greedily, I clamped my lips and teeth around the folds of her 
pussy, taking her spongy, dripping labes completely into my mouth as I shot 
the hot poker of my tongue into her slit and crammed it at least three 
inches into her fuck-hole. 

The sensitive taste-buds on my tongue were inundated immediately with the 
stinging flavor of the inside of her cunt, the sweet essence of the cream 
from her arousal mixing with the acrid taste of urine. The heady concoction 
sent shivers down my spine as I felt her wonderfully strong pussy muscles 
actually squeeze my tongue as though it were a hot, driving cock inside of 
her. 

Down below, her experienced mouth was lapping up a froth between my legs, 
licking my pussy-lips and clit with a raspy tongue that was leaving me 
swimming in a pool of my own secretions and her warm spit. I bucked my 
crotch uncontrollably upward and felt her tongue meet my thrust with a 
plunge into my cunt, searing my sensitive tissues with its rasping heat. 

I pushed my tongue to the hilt into Myra's pussy, and then slowly withdrew 
it until it was completely out and I was tickling her clit with its 
sensitive tip. From her clit, I slid my tongue along the crevice of her 
pulpy cunt-lips all the way to the bottom of her slit. I could feel a few 
curly strands of pussy hair sticking between my teeth as I continued my 
downward journey, stopping when the tip of my tongue scraped over the 
puckered ridges of her asshole. 

I threw my arm across my stomach, my fingers alongside of Myra's buried 
face. Carefully I worked a finger down along her cheek and to where her 
mouth was greedily eating my cunt. I rubbed my finger in the first available 
glob of pussy juice stickily mixed with spit, and then returned it to the 
pulsing haunches that faced me. Slowly, I worked the sticky glob I had taken 
from my cunt into the tiny opening of her asshole, making sure that the 
tight skin was thoroughly lubricated. When I had finished, I slowly pushed 
my finger into her butt, watching it slowly disappear into her asshole, 
greased by our own discharges. 

While I fingered her asshole, I returned my mouth to Myra's pussy, licking 
and eating deliriously, pressing the finger probing in her ass through the 
thin wall to meet my tongue sloshing in her cunt. 

The interior of Myra's asshole felt more flexible now, so I lost no time in 
inserting a second finger, and then a third. Her bung was coated by the goo 
transferred from our cunts and mouths, and my fingers slid easily back and 
forth, going in all the way to touch the warm tissue of her colon, and then 
drawing all the way back to the fingertips. 

My heart leapt and my pussy tightened as I realized there was room for even 
more probing up her ass as I added a fourth finger, and finally a fifth. My 
whole hand imbedded itself in her asshole to the wrist, and, when I slowly 
compressed it into a fist, I could see the bulge from inside stretching the 
cheeks of her ass apart and distending her cunt so that it was as open as if 
it were yawning. 

While I rotated my fist up Myra's ass, I threw my face into the abnormally 
open cavern her pussy had become, getting my chin, mouth and nose inside her 
lathering gash, completely immersing myself in her copious discharge. 

Suddenly, my ecstasy was pierced with the knowledge mat I wasn't alone in 
thrilling to Myra's ripe flesh and its scent and secretion. Something wet 
and cold that wasn't attached to either of us pressed against my cheek, and 
when I glanced to the side I saw the inquisitive black nose of Myra's German 
shepherd, Bluto, sniffing more than just curiously at the slathering box of 
his mistress. 

Before I could do anything about it, Bluto's long, red tongue shot out of 
his mouth and joined mine in lapping at Myra's cunt. I didn't have time to 
react before Myra's body suddenly tensed like a drawn bow-string, and then 
buckled as she came with an orgasmic shudder, sending forth a new onslaught 
of thick, gooey discharge. 

The dog and I were no different as we each greedily lapped up as much of 
Myra's cunt juice as we could devour. Only when I extracted my hand from her 
asshole did Bluto stop devouring Myra's pussy, immediately shifting his 
attention to the fragrance of my hand, which reeked from the odor of her 
quivering bowels. 

Myra, thoroughly spent from having come, shuddered one last time and rolled 
in a heap off of me. But I was still ready to go. More than ready. Not only 
hadn't I come yet, but seeing her in the throes of climax and then 
languishing in its afterglow, my desire to feel the shuddering finality of 
orgasm became overwhelming. 

I looked desperately over at the reclining Myra, begging her with my eyes 
not to leave me high and dry. 

She saw my distress and crooned, "Poor baby, still haven't got your rocks 
off. Don't worry, we'll get you there." 

She reached out for me and cupped one of my hanging tits, kneading the 
turgidly erect nipple with her palm before she said, "Just do what I say and 
everything will be all right." 

"Will I come?" I asked frantically. "I've got to come. I want to feel it in 
my cunt. My cunt's begging for it." 

"Don't worry," Myra crooned. "Now just get up for Myra and turn over so 
you're on your hands and knees." 

I did it immediately. At that moment I would have gone through fire to feel 
myself come. I got on all fours, and, when she told me to lower my head, I 
propped myself on my elbows and laid my cheek on the floor. In the rear I 
could feel my cunt and asshole thrusting out from my parted buns, the 
sensitive skin stretching and the dew of my excess pussy juice drying in the 
open air. 

With my head resting on the floor, my mind was full of images of sex, all of 
them piling into my imagination at once, lewdly superimposed on top of each 
other. Enormous juicy cunts, engorged with blood and dripping with hair and 
pussy secretion, quaked and gasped; massive pricks rubbed against turgid 
clits and pushed their way up puckering assholes; pursing mouths sucked 
tits, cock and cunts; pools of cum seemed to drip stickily from everything 
in a glorious montage of sucking, fucking, and eating. 

And then, as my mind continued to accelerate in a frenzy of kinkiness, I 
suddenly felt something wet and warm throbbing against the taut folds of my 
pussy. At first I thought perhaps my wild imagination was making me only 
think that somebody was at long last sticking a cock in me; but when I felt 
the pulsating veins throbbing against my sensitive cunt walls in the iron 
shaft of the searing ramrod being thrust abruptly inside my hole, I knew I 
was being fucked for real. " 

I figured it must be a dildo, strapped around Myra's waist, as she attacked 
me from the rear and reamed me out good. But then, astonishingly, I saw 
Myra's face looking down at me so that it could not be her hunched over my 
back, grinding away at my cunt. Simultaneously, I realized that whatever was 
fucking me was too warm and wet to be a dildo. No rubber and plastic 
concoction could re-create the moist fire of a real prick, and that's what 
was jackhammering away inside of me. 

It was a real prick in my cunt, I suddenly became certain. But whose was it? 
I looked around my shoulder, and, in my alarm, saw. 

Bluto, Myra's German shepherd dog, was fucking me! No wonder Myra had 
insisted I position myself in the doggie position; she intended all along 
for me to be fucked by her dog. Now I knew what she meant about not needing 
a man around! 

A voice from some corner of my mind told me that I should be repelled, 
disgusted by what was happening to me. But a source from some other point in 
my brain called to me much louder, completely obliterating the first 
impulse, telling me that it didn't make a difference if a dog, or a pig, or 
a rhinoceros was fucking me. Any cock that felt this good inside a woman's 
cunt was the natural thing to do, regardless of the owner's identity. 

Myra's arm was snaked around me, her hand skillfully guiding the dog's prick 
into my pussy, and rubbing his balls. As he hunched over me, Bluto seemed 
like a massive creature, more like a rabid wolf or grizzly bear than a mere 
domesticated house pet. The sight of his sex-crazed face, his long red 
tongue hanging out with a long string of drool hanging from it and his sharp 
white teeth glistening in the light, made me tighten my cunt muscles to the 
ultimate around his thrusting prick as my mind carried itself away and 
imagined that I was being raped my nature itself, all of the earthy, basic 
forces in the earth coalescing into a huge missile that was being launched 
between my legs, filling my cunt with the euphoria of all that was simple 
and good and pleasurable in life. 

Now we were getting down to the . real nitty-gritty as' I could feel myself 
on the verge of a shattering orgasm and sense the dog's hot cock swelling at 
the knotty end with the stark promise of an imminent onslaught of gushing, 
sticky animal sperm. I automatically clenched my cunt muscles to the 
ultimate, creating a knot of gristle and sinew designed to squeeze every 
last drop of cum from my fucker's engorged prick. The dog rammed his cock 
into me farther than he ever had before, the end of his cock scraping 
against my cervix, his fur prickling the back of my thighs and ass as he 
draped himself on me while he strived to totally imbed his dick in my twat. 

My mouth flew open at the preface of the orgasm I felt approaching, and, as 
it did, Myra's face suddenly appeared before me and her red, wet mouth 
closed over mine. Our tongues fenced between the seal of our lips as we 
Frenched while Bluto made his last glorious thrust up my cunt and released 
his load of thick, steaming dog-sperm. 

Climactic waves suddenly overpowered me as they coursed uncontrollably 
through my body, charging me with excruciatingly tantalizing vibrations. I 
came and came again as I felt Myra's lips on mine and Bluto spurting 
repeatedly in my cunt, still working his prick back and forth, but now 
lubricated by a heavy load of his own sticky sperm. 

Finally, after what seemed to be a Fourth of July of shooting rockets and 
thrilling explosions, I finished coming and rolled over on my side, feeling 
the dog's still erect cock sliding reluctantly out of my cunt. I curled up 
on the floor and began contentedly sucking my thumb. From my baby-doll 
position I saw the most extraordinary thing, something which would have 
normally shocked me beyond belief, but which now seemed the most natural and 
beautiful thing in the world. 

Myra and her dog were together now. The dog sat on his haunches, panting 
heavily, his tongue drooling and his cock standing straight out from his 
hairy sheath. 

"Sit, sit," she kept commanding him down. 

Finally, when she had him as steady as she was going to get him, she reached 
her hand down for his throbbing prick and began stroking and rubbing it. It 
was long and red and coated with its own dripping sperm. The exterior 
deposit of cum was so attractive that it didn't take long for Myra to move 
her hand down to his furry balls while she placed her head between his 
quivering haunches and began sucking his prick. Expertly, her lips coursed 
up and down his glistening shaft, cleaning it of the excess jizz, which she 
swallowed with a delighted gulp. 

Myra's lips would plunge to the root of the dog's prick, and then go even 
farther than that as she would briefly enclosed his balls within her 
voracious mouth. Then she would be sliding back up his shaft again, slowly 
working her way to the top where she kissed the end of his dick. I couldn't 
believe how strong and rigid his cock remained, and how it only seemed to 
get stiffer no matter how much stimulation it received. 

Suddenly, she began masturbating him, working his foreskin frantically up 
and down his fiery shaft. "I want him to come in my mouth," she explained, 
"I've got to get him ready." 

When his cock looked as though it were at the bursting point, she thrust it 
into her hungry mouth. Immediately, from the way he thrust his loins 
convulsively into her face, and mostly from Myra's delighted expression, I 
could tell that the dog had come and was now spewing an eruption of hot, 
syrupy dog-jizz in her ravenous mouth. 

She wouldn't stop sucking him, trying to force the last drop of sperm out of 
his balls. He bucked more and more wildly in her face, and, just when I 
thought she was going to suck him to death, I noticed the expansion of her 
cheeks and then saw her open her mouth and a cascade of milky, frothing 
dog-sperm come gushing out, a bigger load than she could hold or swallow all 
at once. 

The cum covered her face with a layer of goo, and bathed her neck and tits. 
She threw herself at me, and immediately I fell on her, licking her face and 
tits, lapping up the simmering sperm and tasting her sweet body 
simultaneously. 

Finally, she got up and helped me to my feet. We had just enough strength to 
make it into the bedroom, where we collapsed in bed in each other's arms, 
our tits and cunts pressing softly and reassuringly against each other. The 
last thing I remember before falling asleep was Bluto hopping into bed with 
us, and settling his moist, warm dick against my ass. 

 CHAPTER SEVEN 

What a night's sleep I had. I must have been out at least twelve hours. But 
no matter how long you sleep there's always tomorrow, and all the sleep in 
the world wasn't going to make it easy for me when Monday was finally here 
and I had to throw myself into Barakwa's demonstration as I had promised 
both him and myself. 

When I finally woke up, Bluto was the only one in bed with me. I turned over 
on my back and yawned and stretched, holding my arms over my head and 
kicking my parted legs out in front of me. Bluto immediately took the 
opportunity presented by my exposed cunt and stuck his cold nose between my 
thighs, sending his warm, rasping tongue swishing over my pussy. 

"Not now, you silly," I giggled as I pushed him away and sat up in bed, 
looking around for Myra. My eyes caught the clock, and, when I saw what time 
it was, I realized that Myra had thoughtfully let me sleep in while she got 
up and got ready to go to work at the beauty parlor where she was a 
cosmetologist. 

I got up and found a note she had left taped to the refrigerator, saying, 

"Coffee's on the stove, hon. Thanks for a delightful evening. Hope you & 
your hubby fight again real soon, so we can get together. If you know what I 
mean, ha, ha. 

XXXXOOOXXXOOO, Myra." 

In the corner of the note there was a cartoon drawing of a hairy, slobbering 
pussy being licked by a long, slurping tongue, the word "you" pointing with 
an arrow to the cunt, while "me" pointed to the tongue. 

I had a cup of coffee and then took a shower to clean all the congealed cunt 
juice, spit, and dog-sperm that layered me, not only clogging my cunt, but 
splotched all over my body. When I was finished, I got dressed and went 
through the living room to the front door, turning around and reluctantly 
saying good-bye to the inside of Myra's apartment, the only escape from 
reality I had ever discovered. As I slowly turned to open the door and 
leave, the sound of padding feet came up behind me and I looked around and 
saw Bluto. 

"See you later, old boy," I said fondly, leaning down and scratching his 
ears. 

He wagged his bushy tail, and, just as fresh as ever, poked his inquisitive 
nose under the hem of my skirt and took a quick sniff of my cunt. I used my 
laughter at his act as the impetus to quickly open and close the door and 
step outside into the hall before I decided to chuck it all and stay at 
Myra's forever. 

The hall immediately placed me completely back into the grubby paw of 
reality. Myra had fixed up the inside of her apartment so that you never 
would have guessed it was in the projects if you had just seen the interior. 
But, unfortunately, you couldn't get to and from the inside without passing 
through the outside, and there was nothing Myra or anyone else-except, of 
course, for the Housing Authority, which in this case might as well have 
been the government of Saturn-could do about that. 

I turned and walked to the stairway, going down the four floors to the 
mezzanine. I breathed a sigh of relief when I smelled fresh air again. 

The sun. The brown grass. People milling across the way in front of the 
south building. This was it. Monday. 

I was ready to start walking towards the beginnings of the demonstration in 
front of the south building. But after a couple of steps, an impulse took 
ahold of me and turned me around, and before I knew it I was back in my old 
building, chugging up the nine flights of stairs to our apartment. 

The incentive for my retreat was hollering in my ears, no longer the 
slightest bit vague. The children. 

How could I commit myself to anything when I hadn't even committed myself to 
being a good mother? 

But how could I ever hope to be a good mother living in the projects? The 
projects were ruining my mind while they stole my kids from me at the same 
time. Conditions had to improve if we were ever going to function as a happy 
family, and the demonstration against our living conditions seemed like a 
good means toward that end. 

But what about right now? Were my kids all right? I had to know if they were 
all right before I could go a step further toward that demonstration. 

Once inside the apartment I looked around frantically for signs of them. I 
poked my head inside their room and looked around. Clothes and toys were 
strewn about, and the beds were unmade. Was that a sign that they'd been 
there, or that their mother didn't take good care of them? 

They each had a bed on one side of the room. I walked inside the room and 
stood between, looking back and forth between Johnny's and Janie's beds, 
feeling a change in the temper of my emotions. It occurred to me for the 
first time that maybe Johnny and Janie were too old now to be sleeping in 
the same bedroom. 

I was trembling already when my shaking coalesced into a blinding shudder as 
I blurted, "What if they're-" and then followed with a whisper of 
dread-"sleeping together...." 

I went over to Janie's bed and rooted around in her bed clothes. There was 
no evidence of anything there but my little girl, and I turned more 
confidently to Johnny's bed. 

His pajamas from whenever the last time he'd slept there were bunched at the 
end of the bed. I picked them up and they seemed fresh. Maybe he had been 
here last night. Oh, I should have been here so he wouldn't have had to cope 
with Eddie alone, I thought. But at least it looked like he'd come home. 

I was almost convinced that things were fairly under control, even perhaps 
improving, when, just before I intended to walk away from Johnny's bed, on a 
last-minute impulse I threw back his covers. 

In the middle of the sheet, concealed until now by the rest of the bedding, 
was a familiar item. The only problem was that it didn't belong to my son. 

In the middle of Johnny's bed was the pink fabric of a pair of Janie's 
panties, where she had obviously left them when she had been in bed with 
him. I picked them up, trying to tell myself it was just a coincidence, that 
there was nothing so obvious about it at all, except for the predictable 
leaps of my imagination. 

But there was no mistaking the sopping condition of Janie's panties, or the 
rich, familiar, pungent odor of sex that permeated them. Maybe Johnny wasn't 
old enough to produce a load of sperm, but I had a long enough memory to 
know that there's no limit on when a girl is old enough to have her pussy 
flow with the sticky excitement of sex. 

As I. looked at the tiny piece of cloth, literally dripping from my hand, it 
occurred to me that they were fresh, and also that I recalled them as the 
ones Janie had been wearing the last time I'd seen her. 

"That means Johnny was definitely here last night or this morning," I 
whispered to myself, expecting a traumatic reaction at my acknowledgement of 
the two of them in bed together. But, paradoxically, my heart rejoiced with 
the knowledge. 

Shaken by my unexpected reaction, I tried to force myself into alarm. What 
about what they had been doing, I lectured myself, wasn't it bad? Was my 
twelve-year-old son really fucking his ten-year-old sister? I tried to turn 
on the disgust, but there was none to be had. 

Something quelled my disapproval, and after a couple of moments of straining 
to feel rotten, I realized that the barrier to feeling bad was something 
very basic, because my pussy was suddenly contracting like mad and leaking 
into the crotch of my panties. 

Of course I would recognize the aroma of Janie's little cunt on her panties, 
I realized in a shock of self-recognition, when I had just so recently 
sucked and licked it myself. 

I walked over to the bureau they shared and looked at myself in the mirror 
and hissed accusingly at myself, "Child-fucker," making a last, vain attempt 
to feel what I was sure was normal disgust and shame. 

How could I be angry at my son "for something I had previously done myself, 
and with relish? 

I wondered if she had told him Mommy had done it to her first? If Mommy did 
it better? 

I wondered if Johnny was jealous. Why should his sister get to taste and 
feel Mommy's cunt and not him? Did he want me? 

Would I fuck him if I had the opportunity? 

In trying to force myself to feel some guilt with every rotten idea I could 
summon, all I succeeded in doing was driving myself increasingly crazy, as 
every wild accusation I dreamed up led to a vivid creation in my imagination 
of the act involved, turning me on in ascending leaps of my pulse and 
concentric tightening of my squishing cunt. 

I had to get out of there before I went totally berserk. The way I was 
thinking, I was so mixed up I had to get away from the reminder of my kids 
or I might do something desperate. 

I fled their room and dashed across the living room. Just before I went out 
the door I noticed a note, scribbled in what looked like purple crayon in 
Eddie unmistakable semiliterate scrawl. It said, "Call me at work, bitch. 
E." 

"I'll do it later," I panted to myself, anxious to get outside and get my 
head into something else quickly. 

I left the apartment and dashed down the hall to the stairs. I stopped and 
hesitated before I descended them, realizing that my cunt was so tight and 
juicy I was likely to have trouble walking. I had a vision of myself 
slipping and falling on a blob of my own pussy juice that had dripped on a 
step from between my legs. 

To relieve myself I put my hand under my dress and frantically slipped it 
under the elastic waistband of my panties. My fingers immediately immersed 
themselves in the tangle of my beaver and worked down towards the moist 
quivering of my swollen, throbbing pussy-lips. I shoved my fingers through 
the slimy folds of my labes and felt them engulfed by the hot, spongy 
interior of my cunt, bathed in the hot syrup of my discharge. 

Lovingly, I worked my fingers in and out, agitating my pussy to the bursting 
point before I crushed my thumb against my turgid clit and felt myself come 
with a shudder, a rush of cunt juice gushing from my hole and inundating my 
fingers and panties, dampening the inside of my thighs. 

When the trembling of my orgasm had finally ceased, I removed my hand from 
the warm embrace of my crotch, took a deep breath, and started moving. The 
stairs flew under my feet as I raced down the nine flights to the bottom 
floor. I dashed across the mezzanine to the outside, not breaking stride 
from the bottom of the stairs to halfway across the brown grass towards the 
south building when I finally realized that I was hopelessly out of breath. 

Things had already started to get lively by the time I reached the crowd in 
front of the south building. It was bigger than when I had first seen it. 
Barakwa had really gotten them out, it seemed. 

I looked around for him, uncertain, of myself among this group of strangers, 
almost all of them black. It was obvious that almost all of his recruiting 
had been done in the south building. 

But Barakwa was nowhere around. The demonstration was apparently getting 
started without him, without any leader. No one was telling them what to do. 
They didn't have to. They were all angry about the way the Housing Authority 
had treated them, and talking to each other and comparing their complaints 
fueled the fires of their dissatisfaction. 

I stood on the fringe of the crowd, having given up hope of finding Barakwa 
at the moment, and wondering if I should leave while I still could. 

I was still wavering in my indecision when the choice was suddenly made for 
me. A strong, heavy-set black woman, apparently in her forties, grabbed me 
by the arm with a powerful hand and pulled me into a circle of people that 
had formed within the larger group. 

Another black woman was holding sway, and the people in the circle listened 
tensely as she told them in a broad Southern accent about roaches she had in 
her apartment that were the size of mice. 

When the angry mutters of the others had finally subsided, the woman noticed 
my presence and looked at me with piercing eyes, sending a stony gaze at me 
that was not designed to notice or acknowledge me, but to size me up. 

She wanted to say, "What're you doing here, whitey?", I'm sure. But instead 
it came out a challenging, "What'd they do to you?" and I knew that I was 
being put to the test. 

There was no way out. Somehow they had gradually elbowed and pushed me until 
I was in the middle of their circle. Their eyes burned in their dark faces 
as they awaited my reply, their expressions dripping with judgments. 

So I told them. I told them about the ten points for putting the beer cans 
in the trash cans, and the eviction notice that had followed. And when I was 
finished, I waited with my breath held. 

"I dunno," an overweight man said, his bulbous black belly barely covered by 
his grimy Thunderbird wine T-shirt. "She coulda heard that anywhere." 

"What you gettin' at?" the first woman asked. 

"I mean, how we know she not a spy?" 

The others looked at me grimly, ominously assessing his charge. 

I squirmed, trying to think of a way to redeem myself, or at least get them 
off my back. Suddenly, the logical reply poured out of my mouth: "You think 
the Housing Authority is so dumb they'd send a white spy into a group of 
black people?" I said, astounded at my courage and candor. 

"Well," the fat man making the charges drawled, "they dumb ... but they 
ain't that dumb." 

"Yeah, you all right, lady," somebody else said, and the tension lifted. In 
a moment they were all joking and complaining about the Housing Authority 
again, oblivious to my color. Somehow, it made me feel pretty good. 

Everything stayed pretty quiet for a while, but it was only the calm before 
the storm. Within half an hour, all hell broke loose. 

The cops descended quietly, and then barked out warnings to disperse over 
megaphones. When they were ignored, they began lobbing tear gas at us. 

The crowd went into a panic and began muttering in confusion, looking at 
each other for some sort of guidance. 

Where was Barakwa? I kept wondering. Why wasn't he here to guide and lead 
the crowd? What in the name of God were we going to do? 

And then, abruptly, the answer seemed to come to the crowd collectively. 

In a mass we turned towards the south building and moved towards it. 

"Let's waste it!" a man bellowed. "Let's show the honkey mother-fuckers what 
they can do with their damn building!" 

The crowd advanced ominously at a quickened pace toward the south building, 
its malice and willingness to do something about it accelerating with every 
second. 

Suddenly, another man made some space for himself within the surging crowd 
and cried, "Not our building, not the building where we live! Let's not turn 
on ourselves!" 

"What you wanna do, Uncle Tom, send 'em a post card?" a derisive cry replied 
from somewhere in the mob. 

"Shut up, nigger," the man said. "I'll show you what kinda Uncle Tom I am. I 
say let's attack the north building-it's fulla honkeys!" 

Cries of "Right on, brother," filled the air as the crowd completely shifted 
its direction and then broke in a dead run for the north building. 

Once they were across the grounds, there were too many of them to get 
through the front entrance. So while dozens of them flooded the mezzanine, 
others gained entry by breaking windows in the bottom-floor apartments and 
climbing into people's bedrooms. 

Whoops and hollers from the blood-thirsty crowd filled the air, mixed with 
the anguished screams of people whose apartments were also being ransacked-. 

I was in an artery of the crowd that was pushing itself towards the 
mezzanine, trying to cram itself into the main entrance like a fat lady into 
a tight pair of pants. I tried to break away. But you couldn't move on your 
own in a churning mass like this. What I succeeded in doing was to shift 
currents so that I became part of a smaller breakaway group that was surging 
towards a series of broken-open windows in the bedrooms of some apartments. 

When we reached the edge of the building, I started to hesitate, unsure 
about what I wanted to do. But I wasn't still a second before a young black 
guy grabbed me by the arm, saying, "Move, they'll trample you if you don't," 
and started pulling me with him. 

I was dragged to an open window with curtains flapping out through the 
glassless frame. The guy let go of me and climbed through the window, 
disappearing from view. Then he reappeared at the window and held his arm 
out. In the midst of the turmoil, I couldn't resist what seemed to be his 
kindness. I took ahold of his hand, and, gripping myself with it, hoisted 
myself up the side of the building and through the window. Once inside, I 
saw that we were in the standard projects bedroom. 

Suddenly my attention was grabbed by a ruckus, coming from somewhere outside 
the apartment in the hall, but still so noisy it shook the walls. I shifted 
my gaze to my benefactor, pleading for him to intercede for me again. 

"C'mon, let's get outta here," he said. "I think they'll be in here in a 
minute to wreck the place. When they see you, they'll think you live here 
and-" 

"Why me?" I interrupted. 

"You looked in the mirror lately? You white." 

I actually blushed I was so embarrassed, but he didn't have time to reflect 
on my coyness. He grabbed my arm and I lurched after him as we left the 
apartment. 

We started down the hallway, looking for a way out. But when we got to the 
edge, of the mezzanine, the fury and confusion was boiling, bodies roiling 
and crashing into each other and things. 

Suddenly the din from the crowd in the mezzanine was punctuated by a whining 
chatter apparently coming from the outside. When the added noise became 
obvious, the crowd abruptly seemed to freeze. 

"Quick, in here," the guy said, directing me towards an open apartment down 
the hall a few feet. 

After he pushed us inside and closed the door behind us, I ran back into the 
bedroom and pulled the curtain aside to see, the chattering noise still 
pounding in my ears. What I saw nearly floored me. 

Helicopters! The cops were actually landing helicopters in front of the 
building. They'd flown over the top of the projects, the dirty bastards. 

Each helicopter was full of cops, about ten of them I guessed from the looks 
of one I saw landing and opening its doors for a flood of blue to pour from 
the plane into the building, each cop waving a billy club or a can of Mace. 

I screamed in horror, and turned to my rescuer. 

"Let's split," he said grimly. 

I nodded my head in agreement and started following him as he headed out of 
the apartment. 

In the hall we immediately found ourselves trapped between the crunching mob 
in the mezzanine, now being beaten to a pulp by the police, and the looters 
coming from the other end of the corridor. 

"Here," the guy said as he sprinted for a door marked "Stairs". 

We got up four flights of them, not bothering to stop and see what was going 
on on any of the floors we passed before we stopped to catch our breath. 

Suddenly we realized how hot the air was. When we opened the door to the 
hallway and looked in, we saw streams of smoke. Someone had set fire to the 
building! 

"How bad is it?" I asked. 

"Not too bad now, but by the time anybody does anything about it, it'll fill 
the sky. You can kiss this building good-bye." 

"Where can we go?" 

"Downstairs," .he said like he knew what he was talking about. "The fire 
won't go down there. Fire goes up, not down, so down below we safe." 

The idea of being sandwiched between a riot and a fire terrified me, but I 
knew this plan was the only alternative available. We descended the stairs a 
flight and tried the third floor. 

"Looks okay," he said as we stole down the hall. "If they been up here, they 
musta passed this one by for some reason." 

But then the quiet was shattered by a scuffle from the far end of the hall 
on my right. In a panic we dashed down the hallway in the opposite 
direction. We didn't stop until we were at the door of the last apartment 
down the whole length of the hall from the men we had seen. 

"In here." 

"But what if somebody's home?" I said. 

"Chance well have to take. This ain't no time to be worryin' 'bout our 
manners." 

He tried the door and the knob gave. He opened it slowly and poked his head 
inside. 

"Don't seem like nobody here. C'mon." 

I followed him inside, saying, "Let's go into the bedroom and see if we can 
find out what's going on outside." 

He nodded his head and we walked across the living room to the bedroom. 

"The door's closed," I said. 

"So what?" 

"You going to open it?" 

"Why not?" he said as he twisted the knob and pushed it open. 

Nothing that had happened so far had prepared me for what I saw in the 
bedroom. It wasn't that what I saw was so unusual in itself, but that it had 
been about the furthest thing from my mind, the last thing I had expected. 

On a bed a man and woman were fucking. 

He was black and she was white. It didn't seem like a rape because she was 
obviously enjoying it. 

It was easy to see why. Her legs were thrown up around his shoulders so that 
there was a clear view of his shiny black cock sliding in and out of her 
glistening, juicy cunt. It was obvious her pussy fit his prick like a glove. 

"Sheeeit, lookit that nigger go," the guy with me said. "Ain't that 
somethin'." 

How could I help but look at him go? He had a beautiful long, black prick, 
and hard balls that were even blacker than his cock. The way his ebony tool 
reamed out her pink, slobbering pussy was hypnotic, as were the noises-the 
squishes and squeals and moans of fucking. 

Sex had been the last thing on my mind when I had dashed into this 
apartment. But now that I was here, it abruptly blanketed the things which 
had seemed so urgent to me only moments before. Everything seemed to pale 
into insignificance at the sight of his black, probing cock in union with 
her grasping white pussy, sloppy with cunt juice. 

The man fucking the woman finally noticed us, and, not missing a stroke as 
he sawed away at the woman's thrusting cunt, snarled, "Can't you see I'm 
busy?" 

"Fuck you, man," the guy with me replied in a high-pitched whine. "I stay if 
I want to." 

"Oh, yeah?" the man said, still fucking in and out like his cock was a 
piston. "Then argue with this." 

He reached into a pile on the far corner of the bed that had been hidden by 
their bodies and grabbed something. 

"Watch out," the guy said, ducking for the door. "I think he's got a gun." 

The light flashed off of whatever it was he had in his hand. But it was no 
gun. 

"It's a badge ... a badge!" I cried. 

"Jesus Christ, this dude's a cop. A nigger cop," the guy with me gasped. 
"While the other pigs was downstairs beatin' up niggers, he sneaked up here 
and found some white pussy to fuck. Boy, I guess that proves that niggers 
are smarter than white people." 

"You better believe it, boy," the cop growled. "Now, you and your honkey 
cunt you got there go find someplace o' your own to fuck and leave us be." 

"Yeah, sure ... sure," the guy said, turning to me and saying: "Let's 
split." 

I followed him out of the bedroom, and, as we closed the door, could hear 
the cop whispering huskily to the woman, "C'mon, baby, lemme stick it up 
your ass. You'll love it." 

"Come on," the guy with me said, "we can do better than this." 

"No," I blurted, apparently not in control of my own responses. 

"Why?" he demanded to know. 

"Because...." I said, and then couldn't articulate because why. 

"Because why?" he said, echoing my own uncertainty about the strangely 
stubborn stand I had unexpectedly taken. 

"Because ... because I want to watch them," the words spilled heedlessly 
from my mouth. "I want to watch them fuck." 

He looked at me like I was crazy; but then a smile slowly split his young, 
black face, and I noticed for the first time how cute he was-just a boy of 
eighteen or nineteen. "Far-out," he said. "Far-out. Outta sight. The rest of 
the world be fightin' and go in' up in flames, and we be in here snug as a 
bug watchin' the floor show." 

He pushed the door just a little bit open with his foot. I got down on my 
knees and put my eye to the crack, while he stood over me, watching, too. 

My first glimpse through the door revealed that the couple in the bedroom 
were still going at it. God, that big, black dude could fuck. If he was an 
example, then it was true-his race was abnormally well-hung and they did 
have a natural rhythm. His crowbar of a dick slid in and out of her pussy in 
perfect time, the slap of their flesh coming together reverberating like a 
bass fiddle. Her cunt-lips pulsed throbbingly, exaggerated and swollen 
because she kept lifting her legs higher and higher so she could feel his 
prick rammed into her cunt to the maximum. 

Then, suddenly, on an outward stroke, he withdrew his cock completely, 
letting it stand outside the sloppy gates of her pussy. That was the first 
time I'd seen the whole thing. His prick was even longer and thicker than I 
had estimated from seeing it engulfed by a cunt, and with a gloriously 
brutal-looking jet-black knob at the end, pulsing like a serpent's head. 

Why did he have it out? Was he going to come? No, no, that couldn't be 
right-he had his hand around the shaft, getting ready to guide it into some 
juicy, clutching hole. But not her cunt. Instead of reinserting his cock 
into her cunt, he aimed just below her snatch and plunged the head of his 
prick between the bottom part of the cheeks of her ass, ramming for her 
asshole. 

"Oh, God, you're killing me! Oh, God, it hurts!" she screamed after he had 
worked the first part of his cock up her ass and was now working on shoving 
in the rest of the battering tool. 

He smiled as though her wail of anguish was an invitation to continue, 
thrusting his loins at her gaping crotch and pushing his insistent prick a 
bit farther up the tight canal of her ass. 

"Oh, God, it hurts...." she started in groaning again, but then added, " ... 
so goooood! Oh, God, it hurts so good! Jesus, fuck me in the ass, stick it 
all the way up me till it comes out my mouth!" 

When she said that, I instantly had a mental image of his powerful black 
prick being shoved in so far that its dark torpedo of a head bulged from her 
mouth, his black knob in bold relief against her red lips. What a way to 
suck a cock that would be, I thought lewdly, feeling the obscene thoughts in 
my head accompanied by a bonfire growing between my thighs, the flames of 
passion searing my cunt and bringing my sexual juices to a raging boil. 

As I continued to watch the couple fucking through the slightly open door, I 
automatically dropped my hand and moved it easily up my skirt between my 
parted legs, seizing upon my sopping pussy and rubbing it hard through the 
drenched cloth of my saturated panties. 

He had his dick up her ass all the way to his rock-like balls. Then he 
started working it out, grimacing in exquisite torture as the taut muscles 
of her asshole pulled his foreskin agonizingly over his meat. 

He surprised me again. He kept pulling his dick from her ass until he had it 
completely out, the veins visibly throbbing on his ebony column. He used his 
hand to guide it again, but now returned it to her cunt, thrusting through 
her expanded, parted pussy-lips and burying his cock in the hairy crevice to 
the hilt, grinding away like he was trying to bury her. 

When he had pulled his cock out of her cunt once more and had crammed it for 
the second time up her ass, it was obvious that he was alternately 
cunt-fucking and ass-fucking her, bringing the pleasures seated in both 
orifices to the surface for an ultimate double explosion of nerve-seared 
sensuality. And it was just as obvious that I wasn't going to be able to let 
things go at just watching when every fiber in my being was cheering me on 
like an entire squad of pom-pom girls to participate. 

One of my hands was already massaging my cunt, a finger now inside the 
elastic of my panties and directly manipulating the creamy folds of my pussy 
and my turgid, erect clit. I raised my other hand to just above my head, 
where I estimated the crotch of the guy with me would be. At first I thought 
I had miscalculated and was pressing the hard muscles of his thigh. And when 
I gave what I had ahold of a squeeze, I instantly realized that I had 
latched onto nothing else but his rock-hard, stiff cock, straining against 
his pants like he had a gun in his pocket. 

From the feel of the bulge in his pants it was obvious that he was just as 
turned on as I was, unless he was deformed. I quickly zipped him down and, 
receiving no resistance, thrust my hand inside his pants and re-emerged 
clutching onto a long, black shaft of twitching meat, a pearly drop of semen 
oozing from the vertical smile at the end of his prick telling the world it 
was ready to fuck and come. 

With my finger I wiped the blob of anxious juice off the head of his dick 
and brought it to my lips, flicking it away with my eager tongue and 
savoring it as I rolled it around in my mouth. 

I didn't want to give up watching what was going on in the next room, so I 
lifted myself just enough so my head would be level with the cock jutting 
out over me that begged to be sucked. When I was in the right position, I 
wrapped my lips around the burning shaft, and then turned my face enough so 
I could still see what was happening in the bedroom out of the corner of my 
eye while I manipulated the fleshy head of his prick with my tongue, lips, 
and teeth, pushing his pants down around his legs. 

In the bedroom the cop was into her ass again, blistering her butt with 
powerful, ramming thrusts that took so much effort on his part that he 
grunted after each one, while she squealed in delicious pain. Above the 
union of his cock and her ass I could easily distinguish the lips of her 
pussy, their fleshy, pink folds distended by the alien intruder down below, 
pulsing and sucking almost as though they were breathing, sticky strands of 
syrupy secretion criss-crossing her gash like a spider's web. 

As I watched the bedroom action, I sucked furiously on the cock of my own, 
its earthy, rich taste filling my mouth and making my nostrils flare while I 
fucked my mouth with it. I sent the rock-hard head all the way to my 
tonsils, filling my mouth and throat completely with hot cock, wondering why 
anyone would choose to swallow something as harmless as swords when they 
could swallow hot, throbbing two-edged pricks. 

In the bedroom the man and the woman suddenly went rigid, and I realized 
that they were both on the verge of coming. His prick pulled itself from her 
asshole with a wet pop and hovered like a twitching cobra over her 
pussy-juice-matted bush and glistening belly. He reached for his cock to 
guide it towards the final, creaming thrust, but from nowhere her hand 
appeared and slapped his hand away from his prick. Seizing his hard cock, 
she jacked it once or twice, her fingers unable to completely encircle it 
and digging into the hard, black flesh. 

A natural coming reflex overtook him and he began bucking wildly, almost 
like a dog around a bitch in heat. His cock slid around in her hands like a 
slippery eel, but she maintained her grip, tugging the foreskin over the 
blood-engorged head as he writhed in her grasp. 

And then, like a Fourth of July rocket, a dazzling stream of sparkling sperm 
spurted into the air, striking her belly and pooling in her navel before it 
shot upward and struck at her tits, her face, even her hair. With an 
agonizing groan she threw herself about until she could fasten her starved, 
salivating mouth around his endlessly spouting prick, gripping her red lips 
around it like a vise. He moaned and groaned as the cum from his black prick 
entered her mouth, the gulping sound of her voracious swallowing filling the 
room as she worked her mouth on his cock as though it were a second cunt, 
lacking only the fringe of curly blonde hair around its pulsating lips. 

The man renewed the thrusting of his hips, exploding his cock into her 
mouth, and from the tightening of his balls obviously still coming. Her 
response was to suck harder than ever, as he continued to moan and groan as 
his only means of expression. 

Finally, the tension stiffening his large dark body seemed to snap, and it 
was apparent that he had at last finished coming in her mouth. But she still 
wasn't satisfied as she kept on manipulating his prick in her mouth in the 
apparent hope that it would start going off again. 

A frown creased his black face and suddenly he yelled, "Enough! Enough, you 
bitch. You crazy white bitches never know when to quit when you've got a 
black cock to play with." 

When she didn't stop, he lashed out with an open hand, slapping her across 
the cheek. His cock flew out from the impact. Along with it, a huge glob of 
sperm she hadn't been able to swallow spread itself out viscously in the air 
as it gushed from her gaping mouth, falling like molasses onto her tits and 
belly. 

As his steaming jizz drenched her, I knew that I had to have some cum for 
myself right now. I accelerated my efforts on the cock in my mouth, 
increasing the suction of my sucking lips and massaging the ridge of his 
flange with my raspy tongue, forgetting all about the couple in the bedroom 
as I poured all of my concentration into causing an ejaculation in my mouth. 
He accommodated me by grabbing my head from behind am working it even 
tighter into his crotch so that the only things I was aware of were the 
stabbing length of his prick in my mouth, his rough, wiry pubic hair, and 
the sweaty black skin of his pulsing groin, as his balls squished against my 
chin. 

I could feel the head of his dick swelling into an even bulkier knot, 
obviously getting ready to gag me with the onslaught of sticky jizz which I 
craved, when suddenly the bedroom door flew completely open and I abruptly 
became aware again of the people in the bedroom. 

With the cock still in my mouth to the hilt, I looked out of the corner of 
my eye and saw the black cop looming in the doorway, still naked. 

"What's goin' on here?" he growled. "I thought I told you to leave." 

I could feel my guy's cock start to shrivel in my mouth as he hemmed and 
hawed above me, apparently at a loss for words under the unusual 
circumstances. 

Or maybe he thought the cop was going to hit him or something. He wouldn't 
have thought that, though, if he had had my view of the situation. He was 
cut off from a view of the bottom half of the cop because of the obstruction 
of my head at his cock. But I had a clear picture of everything from the 
cop's waist down, and, when I saw that his long black dick was as incredibly 
as stiff as when I had first seen it, I knew that the only thing the cop 
wanted was more. 

They were still fussing at each other over my head, so I decided to be a 
peacemaker. The dusky battering-ram poking at me from the bedroom doorway 
told me what my only course was as I grabbed for it, feeling its strength 
vibrate under my touch. I brought it towards my face as I twisted my mouth 
just enough to still accommodate three inches of the cock I was already 
blowing and gave enough room to introduce at least the head f the cop's 
prick between my lips. I My tongue slid over the heads of their cocks as 
they pressed together in my mouth, twin warheads of black dynamite. The 
differences between the two were quickly forgotten as they began undulating 
their dark crotches in my face, burying me up to the eyes in a forest of 
crinkly, black pubic hair that was like barbed wire. 

The two men moaned gutturally while I sucked them off, their bodies gyrating 
above me as though they were modern dancers in black tights. Then, suddenly, 
from between the legs of the cop, I saw the bare legs of another person. But 
these legs were white and shapely. 

"Hey, what's going on here?" the lady's voice said from behind her black 
lover, the top part of her body obscured by his bulk. 

"You all want some?" he drawled to her. 

"You bet your black ass I do," she said emphatically. 

"Well, us niggers is busy, as you can plainly see," he said, laughing. 

"Who cares about you?" she snapped. "I've already had all of your prick that 
I want. It's her I want." 

My heart jumped when she said that, the thrill of being singled out by 
another woman to fulfill her desire when she had two enormous cocks to 
choose from turning me on like a string of Christmas-tree lights. 

"I didn't know you was a pussy-eater," the man said to her. 

"You better believe it, Sambo," she said. "A cock's a cock, but a cunt is a 
coconut cream pie." 

I felt my pussy lather spontaneously at her description, the suggestion of 
her remark causing the interior of my cunt to foam in a choking mass of 
bubbly cream. 

"Don't bother to move, Rastus," she said to the man in the door, "I can 
handle myself." 

I saw her crouch down, providing a perfect view of her open, oozing cunt, a 
slobbering gash fringed by matted blonde pussy hair, before her head 
suddenly came into view, squeezing between his legs as she worked her way 
towards me. 

She seemed to be about thirty, with long blonde hair that was obviously 
natural from the thatch between her thighs, high cheekbones, blue eyes with 
long fluttering lashes, and glistening, ruby-red lips that looked as though 
they were ripe fruit. Her crimson tongue flicked out at me with a slurping 
motion as she whispered while she worked her way towards me, "Just sit 
tight, you're going to love my tongue. You'll forget all about those guys' 
cocks once I'm eating you." 

Now she had popped through the dark columns of his legs and grasped my body, 
running her hands up under my sweater and massaging my heaving tits as she 
thrust a knee between my parted thighs and crushed it against the damp folds 
of my cunt. 

Her busy fingers ran like snakes over my tits, her fingers gouging into the 
soft flesh as she dug into my bra, searching for my marble-hard nipples. Her 
caresses drove me wild, and, as her knee crammed even tighter against my 
throbbing pussy, I gasped in sheer ecstasy. But, of course, the gasp brought 
not further air but an increased descent down my throat of the two cocks I 
was orally fucking. 

Our faces were pressing together now, her cheek against mine as I continued 
to suck the pricks lodged in my mouth while she whispered in my ear with her 
hot, sensuous breath. 

"Feel my cunt," she whispered. "Put your hands on it and rub your fingers 
through the juice. I'll get down and make it easy for you." 

She reclined to the floor, lying back and spreading her legs for a full view 
of the parted lips of the hairy, sopping gash of her pussy. I plunged my 
hand into the gooey morass and felt the bullet of her clit shoot out against 
my fingers, begging to be rubbed, as she writhed under my touch. Up above I 
redoubled my sucking efforts, somehow manipulating the excess load of cock I 
was taking on without any precious cargo being spilled from my mouth. 

The only thing wrong was that my own cunt was now going without any direct 
stimulation; and my tits were lying free, as I busily serviced everyone 
else. Suddenly I felt they were using me and treating me unfairly. That's 
what Eddie always did (although not as deliriously as this, by a long shot): 
made me give, give, give. Well, if I was going to let myself go, I was going 
to have things my way, damn it. 

With a massive coughing effort I abruptly spit the twin cocks from my mouth 
and bolted upright, feeling my hand drip from the saturated cunt with which 
I had been playing. The three of them looked at me with astonishment, the 
two men standing by the doorway with their enormous black pricks standing 
straight out like flagpoles, and the woman, lying in the classic position of 
sex on the floor with her legs spread as far apart as they could go. 

"Well, what kin we all do for you, little lady?" the cop asked 
sarcastically. 

"Are we too much for you?" the woman cracked from somewhere behind the 
rising mound and gaping furry hole of her pussy that was the focal point of 
her body in her lascivious position. 

The guy with whom I'd come to the apartment just looked at me and shrugged. 

"Strip me," I demanded. "Strip me." 

"Right on!" the guy I'd come with exclaimed. 

"Yeah," added the cop in a rumble. 

"And what else can we do for you, missy?" the woman trilled from behind her 
slobbering box. 

"Do something to my cunt like you promised!" I shouted. "Anything. But just 
get down there and get to work. I want to feel it between my legs." 

The two men began advancing eagerly towards me, their dicks twitching like 
angry reptiles, their mouths watering. The woman jumped up off the floor, 
and, licking her lips, joined the wave of naked flesh that was about to 
descend on me, burying me in a sweaty six-armed embrace. 

I don't know who took off what, but they probably all did it at once. They 
ripped every shred of clothing from my body in a mere instant, leaving me 
quivering and naked on the floor as they pressed as one against me. It was 
incredible. I felt I was being ravaged by some super sex-monster, a black 
and white creature with three heads, six arms, as many legs, a complete set 
of female sex organs, and, as a terrible, avenging bonus, two enormous, 
destruction-bent cocks. 

If they weren't a three-headed monster, then at least they were a team. They 
acted as though they had been rehearsing orgies for years as each of them 
assumed an assigned portion of my hungry, trembling body, all of them 
designed to equal in total an unprecedented assault on my senses. 

The guy I came with rolled crossways across my face, crunching the steel 
wool of his pubic hair into my eyes, and, most importantly, ramming his 
turgid dick into my waiting mouth, his hard balls bruising my lips. No 
sooner had he assumed his place, straddling across me and undulating his 
prick in my appreciative mouth, than the cop dropped himself between my legs 
and began poking his gigantic cock at my crotch. I held my breath as I tried 
to guess which hole he would enter. I closed my eyes just at the instant of 
penetration and realized from the searing tear that sent shivers up my spine 
that he had inserted the head of his cock up my ass, and was in the process 
of quickly ramming it in all the way to his balls. 

That left my pussy and the woman unaccounted for, and, as it quickly turned 
out, they were an unbeatable combination. She lay on her side facing in the 
opposite direction. Her head was at my waist as she leaned over and lowered 
her head between my widely parted thighs, open like a gate because of the 
ramrodding cock that was distending my asshole, threatening to rip me in 
two. Slowly, her tongue began to slide over my cunt-lips, driving me crazy 
with the titillating slowness of her wet strokes. As she tasted my creamy 
froth and pulsating flesh, her licking started to accelerate, until the 
maddening slowness had now given way to furious lapping, a lather of pussy 
juice and spit forming in a thick mixture between my thighs. 

The remaining act to complete the lustful arrangement in which we were 
entwined was up to me. I eagerly accepted my responsibility, thrusting my 
hand onto her pussy and feeling its electric warmth as I pressed its 
throbbing flesh through a slimy coat of sticky fluid of male and female 
origin. 

The men's hips bucked and undulated wildly as they fucked my mouth and ass, 
while I responded by sucking harder with every thrust to my face, and 
squeezing my ass muscles with every plunge below. All the while, the woman 
worked her face deeper and deeper into the marsh of my pussy, burying her 
tongue and lips between the parted folds and reaching at least three inches 
into the squashing interior of my cunt. 

The cock in my mouth provided the first clue that we were soon all going to 
erupt in an explosion of shuddering release. It stiffened even harder, 
sending its stony knob even farther down my throat, as it trembled on the 
verge of ejaculation. My only alternative was to increase the suction I was 
providing for the engorged tool, moving my mouth in an exaggerated imitation 
of a cunt as I labored to help him get his rocks off. 

The hot, sticky sperm crashed like an outpouring of molten lava as the 
volcano of his cock erupted in my mouth. The pressure of his cum flooding 
into my mouth choked me with its intensity and quantity. Some of it slid 
deliciously down my throat, coating the inside of my stomach like rich, 
thick cream; but the excess strained at my cheeks, some of it dribbling down 
from the corners of my mouth as his prick continued to fuck in and out, 
while another syrupy stream invaded my nasal passages and flowed from my 
nose like snot in two thick globs. 

One down and three to go, I thought, as I felt the prick in my ass spring 
even farther into my intestines, its huge head squishing around in the soft, 
warm shit in my gut. I could feel the balls pressed against the cheeks of my 
ass harden like rocks and I knew they were preparing to launch a jet-blast 
of high-test sperm. I shoved my body towards him as much as I could, trying 
to jam his rampaging cock in even farther, envisioning once again the image 
of a prick so far in that it came bulging out of the mouth of the person 
being ass-fucked-except that this time it was my mouth I saw with the 
ominous, dark, spitting cock-head emerging like a prehistoric monster from 
it. 

My fantasy was abruptly interrupted by the reality of a barrage of the 
hottest jism I'd ever felt in my life searing the walls of my gut. He 
spurted again and again, the tight muscles of my ass squeezing his dick at 
maximum intensity to wring every last drop of sperm from him. Finally, with 
one last cascade of boiling cream, he was finished, and dropped like a rag 
between my legs, as exhausted as the other one, whose prick, spent in my 
mouth, was gradually growing soft between my still nibbling lips. 

The pussy in my hand foamed like a high-suds detergent as my fingers gnawed 
at both the inside and the outside, pulling and tugging, rubbing and 
pressing, until the pulpy slit drained a thick yellow fluid like the 
festering wound it resembled. I knew that one more flick of her clit would 
do it, so I found the engorged knob of flesh and placed it between my thumb 
and forefinger, striking them against each other like I was snapping my 
fingers, their force colliding against each other and pressing the marble of 
nerves in a maddening crunch. She shrieked with delight as she started to 
come, her moans reverberating up into the cavity of my cunt as her mouth 
pressed against my pussy-lips while her orgasm mounted. 

And now for the last and the best, I thought. Her screams into my cunt 
flipped the final switch and I felt all the lights going on for me, the 
buzzers buzzing, the cannons bursting, and the rockets flaring. My nipples 
seemed to shoot out from my tits and explode like firecrackers. I felt like 
there was-a barracuda swimming around in my stomach, and then he had torn 
through the flesh of my lower abdomen and was devouring all the meat between 
my legs. Spasms of excruciating delight started at my navel and spread 
concentrically through my body like a radio signal as the electrical 
impulses of orgasm charred every nerve in my body. 

My coming was like a series of waves, each of them a huge breaker, pounding 
over the foamy crest of the preceding one, until I was caught in an orgasmic 
tidal wave, my senses completely washed away by the unchecked turbulence of 
a climactic sexual sea. As I writhed in sweet pain, I could feel the load of 
cum that sloshed inside of me, and feel rivulets for the sticky fluid 
dripping down my chin. My hand clutched the sloppy hamburger of the cunt at 
my side and I held on for dear life as I closed my thighs on the woman's 
slobbering face and felt her mouth press against the panting lips of my 
pussy, while my ass tugged at the dick inside of it. In a swooping ascent, I 
reached the peak of the mountain, and then began sliding down the other 
side, plunging to dizzying depths as the tail of my orgasm plunged downward 
like a blazing meteor that finally crashed, leaving me a gasping, panting, 
gelatinous wreck. 

When it was finally over, the four of us lay on the floor in glistening 
heaps of flesh, our breathing gradually returning to normal. The cocks in me 
grew smaller, their metallic expanse giving way to spongy softness. The cunt 
in my hand slowly closed, retrenching back to its sealed state from being an 
open, grasping pit. 

Everything else in the world seemed a million miles away. The projects, the 
Housing Authority, the demonstration, the cops-all of it might as well have 
been on another planet as we collapsed in a mellow, post orgasmic mound of 
black and white flesh. 

 CHAPTER EIGHT 

Out of nowhere, the noise overwhelmed us. One moment, our post-fucking 
reverie was totally silent, as though we were encapsulated in a vacuum of 
bliss. The next moment, ear-shattering yells and crashes, the stormy thunder 
of a mob gone mad, shook the walls. 

The cop acted first, I guess because responding to things like that were his 
business. When the noise suddenly inundated us in its resonant fury, he 
leaped to his feet, his long, black dick, now soft but still huge, flapping 
like a tongue between his legs. He cocked an ear in the direction of the 
hallway, the changing lines in his face indicating that he detected 
something informative about the composition of the din outside. 

"Well, what is it?" I asked, sitting up and brushing some congealed sperm 
from the side of my face. 

"The demonstrators?" my rescuer asked. "The police?" I asked. 

The cop looked at us for a moment before he said without emotion, "Both." 
And then a smile split across his broad dark face as he added, "And the 
protesters ain't winnin'. Sound like the demonstrators is gettin' conked 
good." 

"Then we've got to get out of here before they find us!" I cried. 

There was a long pause before the cop's smile disappeared and he said with a 
gravely straight face, "What you mean, we?" 

"You mean-" the other guy started to say. 

"That's right," the cop replied, anticipating the completion of the 
sentence. 

"But you a nigger, your skin's black," the guy implored, as I tried to 
figure out what they were talking about. 

"True ... true ... But I'm a pig first." 

I looked at the cop, trying to figure out what he intended to do. Suddenly 
it dawned on me, and I gasped, "You wouldn't?" 

"The hell I wouldn't," the cop laughed meanly. 

"What're you three talking about?" the woman wanted to know, sitting up, 
totally puzzled. 

"They under arrest, that's what," the cop said commandingly as he turned to 
us. "Now don't give me no trash and I'll see you both get off with suspended 
sentences and light fines." 

"Now wait a minute," the white woman said, getting to her feet. "This is my 
apartment'. I have to have a complaint against them for you to do that. And 
I'm not about to-" 

Without warning, he lashed out with his ham-hand and smacked her across the 
face, a red, five-fingered welt immediately rising along her jawbone and 
cheek as she toppled backward, landing in a naked heap. 

"You'll make it," he said ominously. 

I convinced myself immediately that I wasn't going to wait around for him to 
make good his threat. If I tried to escape, he probably wouldn't be willing 
to chase me without any of his clothes on. He needed his uniform on to make 
his explanation plausible. The main drawback to my plan was that I couldn't 
afford to be as modest and careful as he-I had to run in the nude to get 
away. But it was a risk I was willing to take. 

He was still glaring at the woman whom he had just reduced to a piteous 
sobbing wreck when I made my move, springing to my feet and dashing for the 
door before anybody knew what was happening. 

"Come back here, you honkey bitch!" he bellowed at me when he saw what I Was 
up to. But I already had the door open and was out in the hall before he 
moved, the last glimpse I saw of his body a study of ambivalence about 
whether to chase me or stay there and cover himself in more ways than one. 

As I left the threatening atmosphere inside the apartment, I plunged 
directly into the boiling chaos in the hallway. 

The cops, apparently tired of knocking heads down below, had worked their 
way all the way up to the third floor and were blustering down the 
corridors, beating up demonstrators they'd found somewhere and hauling 
people out of apartments and beating them up, even though a lot of them 
looked like they actually lived there. 

The anarchy was enveloped by an oppressive heat from the growing fire on the 
next floor. My naked body was immediately bathed in a clammy sheet of 
perspiration, as I searched for a way out before somebody noticed me and did 
God knows what to me. 

My mind seemed to leap from one tactic to another without any prodding. I 
dashed into an apartment. I didn't bother to check if it was vacant or not 
as I raced into the bedroom and began tying the bedclothes on the bed 
together. When it didn't seem long enough for what I had in mind, I rummaged 
through the dresser drawers, and then the dirty clothes hamper, until I came 
up with enough shirts, pillow cases, and pajamas to knot together for an 
escape rope out the window. 

I had no hesitation about hurling an ashtray through the window and reaming 
all the shards of glass out with a chair leg before I tied my rope to the 
bed and threw it out the window. Fear was nowhere in my consciousness as I 
lifted myself over the window sill and began lowering myself down, winding 
my legs around the knotted sheets and clothing and feeling them rub against 
my cunt as I half lowered myself and half slid downward. 

When I reached the ground, I noticed for the first time that the area was 
Uttered with debris and fallen protesters, a low cloud of noxious smoke 
hanging over everything. I looked around and saw that the whole thing was 
being filmed by a television crew as I heard a man yelling, "Look at her!" 
and noticed that a camera lens was being trained on me. 

For the first time since my escape, I was aware that I was naked. I looked 
at my hurriedly constructed rope of descent, and saw that the third thing 
from the bottom was a man's pajama top. I undid the knots frantically, 
pulling them apart with my teeth when the strength of my fingers proved 
insufficient for the task, and finally got the garment loose and on me. 
Looking down and seeing that it went to the top of my thighs, just covering 
my pussy, I tugged down on it, and then fled, hurrying through the mist of 
the smoke, trusting my instinct to find a route to safety. 

After running until I was gasping for breath, my lungs seared by the smoke 
and tear gas, I reached an area where the haze was thinner. Focusing my 
eyes, I recognized the pavement I was on, and realized that I was standing 
on one of the streets leading out of the projects. I mentally flipped a coin 
between my right and my left, and chose the latter, fleeing to what I hoped 
was a way out. 

My running took me past the sides of the grimy brick buildings that formed 
the corridor to the outside world, and, suddenly, miraculously, I looked 
around and saw that the projects were all in back of me and I was out. 

But now what was I supposed to do? I wasn't home free yet. I still had to 
act on my instinct for survival. 

I looked around, and, when I saw the telephone booth just outside the 
entrance to the projects, the next course of action occurred to me. 

"Eddie!" I blurted. "Maybe hell help me. He's got to help me. He's got to 
come get me." 

I dashed towards the phone booth. My problem about where to get any change 
to phone was solved immediately due to the misfortune of what seemed to be 
one of my fellow tenants. Apparently he had been trying to call someone on 
the outside when the police had seen him, and, noticing that the color of 
his skin was black, bashed him across the head, leveling him into a crumpled 
heap half-in and half-out of the phone booth. 

I rummaged through his pockets and came up with the necessary two dimes. 
Then I stepped gingerly around his unconscious body so I wouldn't hurt him 
while I dialed Eddie's job, hoping he'd be back from his garbage route by 
now. 

When I finally got him on the line, reality quickly returned. I realized how 
absurd it was to depend on him when I heard his surly, uncaring voice. 

I started to tell him of my dilemma, but before I got three words out, he 
snarled, "So you got my note, huh, and finally decided to get around to 
calling?" 

A note? That's right, he'd left a note for me by the door telling me to 
call. That's why he thought I'd called. 

"Those kids of yours," he said, as though I had created them on my own as a 
trick against him. "What about them?" 

"They're gone. I caught 'em last night after you left, and they ran off." 

"What? Caught them doing what?" I asked frantically. 

"Fucking. They were fucking." 

"Are you sure?" I gasped, realizing that my suspicions of this morning had 
been correct. 

"When I pulled the covers off, I saw his little cock all the way up to his 
balls in her pussy. It ain't big, but the little fucker knows what to do 
with it." 

"What'd you do?" I asked, as chills coursed up and down my spine. 

"Tried to beat the shit out of them, of course," he said gruffly. "But the 
little bastards got away. Good riddance, I'd say, but I thought maybe you'd 
like to know the result of you being such a stinking mother." 

I was silent for a moment, and then snapped, "Good-bye," and smashed the 
phone down in the cradle, realizing that I meant good-bye for forever. I 
didn't know what I was going to specifically do, but I knew that I wasn't 
going to spend another minute being brutalized by Eddie-or anybody else, 
whether it be physical or mental cruelty. 

I stepped over the fallen man in the phone booth and took off, not caring 
where I was headed, just so long as it was away from the projects, and all 
the Eddies and Barakwas. 

As I fled, I couldn't help but wonder if my children had done the same 
thing. Had they gotten out before they got hurt by the chaos in the 
projects? Were they safe? And would I ever see them again? 

I didn't want to hang around and think about it. I realized now that I 
couldn't do anything worthwhile for my children until I got myself under 
control, and that wasn't going to happen until I was out of the projects and 
away from Eddie. So I started running again, leaving the prison-like 
dimensions of the projects looming in my wake. 

The projects are bounded by the city dump and an eight-lane highway. If 
you're on foot you either have to risk your life dodging cars while cutting 
across the highway, or take a longer route across the city dump and wind up 
smelling like garbage. As I looked ahead, I saw the beginnings of the dump, 
the first derelict refrigerators and crumbling mattresses Uttering the 
ground. 

In the space of a few hundred yards I was deeply into the dump. Feeling that 
I was far enough away from the projects to catch my breath, I slowed down to 
.a walk, looking around at my environment. 

Mountains of trash loomed over my path as I wended my way through the 
foul-smelling debris. Once I jumped when I saw something move in one 
particularly scroungy mound of trash, expecting it to be a nest of rats, 
something which I can't stand. But, instead, it turned out to be a man. A 
grizzled, filthy man of indeterminate age dressed in greasy rags. 

Rats would have scared me, but one quick look at this pitiful creature told 
me that he posed no threat to me. He was too weak to have done anything even 
if he had wanted to. He just looked at me as I went by through washed-out, 
empty eyes. The only way I could respond was to say to myself after I had 
passed him, "So there is another stop on the line after the projects," and 
feel sorry for him for being ground into life's filth even more than I was. 

I continued my journey, alternately lingering and hurrying through the 
grotesque environment of ruin and decay. Then my eye caught something which 
caused me to stop in my tracks. 

There, in the midst of chaos, was order. 

Someone had scoured the mountains of trash in the dump and had come up with 
enough appropriate parts to construct a little house-actually, a shack-of 
sorts. Even here, I thought, someone was trying to live with dignity. 

I approached it quietly, not wanting to disturb whoever was living there. My 
curiosity brought me closer and closer until, finally, I was much closer 
than I had intended to be, and was peering through one of the cracks in the 
exterior to look inside. 

My heart leaped and my pulse raced to a blur when I saw what was going on 
inside. I would have cried in a combination of relief, astonishment, and 
shock, except that my breath was taken away by the totally unexpected scene 
that was developing before my eyes. 

My kids. Johnny and Janie. They were in there. They must have run away from 
their father, and then, when the trouble erupted the next morning, they must 
have run away from the projects. And built this house. I should have known: 
Only children could have so much optimism in the face of so much adversity. 

My relief and half of my astonishment were that I had found them so 
unexpectedly, and that they were safe. 

The other half of my astonishment and all of my shock were from what they 
were doing. Through the crack in the wall I could clearly see that they were 
both totally nude and making love with their smooth, childish bodies. 

At first it seemed incongruous and bizarre to see my ten-year-old daughter, 
Janie, still dappled with baby-fat, and with no breasts or hair on her pudgy 
little pussy, lean over and stroke her twelve-year-old brother's hairless 
cock that in a state of erection was perhaps four inches long. But when she 
abruptly took his prick into her mouth, plunging her face down so that her 
lips squashed against his groin, completely enveloping his cock while she 
stroked his pink balls, I realized that my kids were acting out of their 
innate sexual instincts, which, when coupled with their close bond, made 
them naturally seek each other as lovers, no matter what their ages or prior 
relationship. It wasn't incongruous and bizarre. It was beautiful. 

I quickly decided that the only thing wrong with the scene I was witnessing 
was that I wasn't part of it. The part of me that was a mother yearned from 
my heart to join them, to throw my arms around them and tell them I loved 
them and everything was going to be all right from now on. 

But the sexual part of me yearned straight from the rampant energy of my 
juiced-up cunt to smother them with my legs, fingers, mouth, belly, tits and 
pussy, feeling their hot little tongues and moist young genitals rubbing 
against my throbbing flesh. 

As Janie accelerated her sucking of Johnny's cock and he placed his busy 
fingers inside her cunt, I realized that I had to either back off or come 
out into the open. Otherwise, I was going to knock the shack down with my 
excitement. 

Without hesitation, I drew the pajama top over my head and threw it to the 
ground, my tits bobbing freely against my chest as I walked around the shack 
and went silently through what served as the front door. 

Janie noticed me first, looking up from the juicy stem of Johnny's smooth, 
little prick as my shadow fell over her. At first, she seemed scared, as 
though she expected the police; but when she saw who it was, she slid 
Johnny's glistening cock out of her mouth and cried, "Mommy!" 

"Mommy!" Johnny said, jumping up to greet me with his cock sticking straight 
out from his pink, bald loins. 

They both ran to hug me, Johnny's prick jabbing at me as we embraced, 
revealing to me that although it was small, his cock was as hard as iron. 

They were so happy to see me that they couldn't stop hugging me, and, since 
I felt the same way, I couldn't stop hugging back. In the awkwardness of our 
happiness at being reunited, the three of us fell to the floor, our naked 
bodies landing in an intertwined heap of flesh, Johnny's cock wrapped in the 
strands of my long red hair. 

We all looked at each other, each sizing up the situation and each other. 
Finally, as Johnny and Janie looked to me for obvious guidance, I stated 
emphatically, "Why not?" 

Janie took that as a cue, lapping at my tits, while Johnny slid down and 
threw himself between my legs, lapping at my cunt like an old pro as I 
willingly parted my trembling thighs to accommodate my son. I used a hand to 
feel my daughter's slick, little cunt, fingering the puckering slit and 
feeling the juice ooze out. With my other hand I found my son's stiff prick, 
eagerly wrapping my hand around it and jerking its soft skin up and down the 
shaft and over the knob of meat at the end. 

My hand tightly encompassed his jutting tool, compressing and agitating the 
whole of his cock from the knotty head, down the skinny, wiry shaft, all the 
way to his hairless little nuts. 

His mouthing of my sloppy cunt raised me to new heights of desire, and I 
knew that I wanted it all. I wanted his dick in my cunt, fucking me into 
ecstasy. 

"Quick, Johnny," I implored, "get in me. Stick it in me. Fuck me!" 

Suddenly he looked scared, as though he were afraid he couldn't bring it 
off. 

"Come on," I begged, "you can do it. If you can do it for your sister, you 
can do it for me." 

"But it's too small. My thing's too small...." 

"Let me be the judge of that," I said firmly, spreading my legs to their 
maximum in order to give him a shot of my open, drooling, hairy pussy that 
he couldn't resist. I could feel my heavy cunt-lips trembling in his 
direction, begging him to appease their sensual demands. 

His gaze shifted from my pleading face to my lewdly inviting pussy, and his 
doubt immediately vanished. He threw' himself onto me, his cock bumping 
against my hairy crotch. As his prick shot into my cunt, I closed my legs 
tightly around his slender frame so he couldn't squirm away. I ground my 
throbbing pelvis upward, trying to completely entrap the four inches of 
muscle and gristle emerging from between his legs in the squishing vise of 
my pussy. 

I was astounded at how good a twelve-year-old cock felt inside of me. My 
pussy muscles had immediately contracted to clench around his prick, and, as 
he stroked up and down, my cunt was squeezed as tightly around his cock as 
if it had been a foot long. 

"Quick, quick, put your cunt in my face! Sit on my face before I come!" I 
called to my daughter. 

She quickly obeyed my instructions and lowered her chubby thighs over my 
face, sending the warm smooth slit of her pussy directly against my mouth. 
My tongue probed the gooey innards of her cunt, while my hands shot up and 
left the lumps of baby fat where her breasts would eventually be as I 
imagined her someday with full, rich tits and dark-red, erect nipples. And 
with a soft tangle of luxuriant, curly cunt hair where now there was only 
soft, pink skin. 

Janie's cunt tasted as sweet as cream in my mouth while I sucked and probed 
the sopping gash. She placed her pudgy little hands behind her and fondled 
my heaving tits as I tongue-fucked her. 

However, the real excitement was taking place down below where Johnny was 
throwing everything in his slender twelve-year-old body into pleasing his 
mother, parting the foaming lips of my pussy with his stabbing pecker. What 
his cock lacked in deep penetration, it made up in its maddening stabs 
against the sides of my cunt walls, seeming to always strike the most 
sensitive place in the swampy marsh of tissue and sending spasms of tingling 
through me. 

I was so charged up to begin with that I started to come after only a couple 
of minutes of sucking and fucking. My insides quaked as I bucked my hips 
wildly, trying to swallow his prick whole. The first orgasm peaked and then 
eased into a slow descent. But then it was unexpectedly followed by another 
one even more intense. When the pattern was repeated again, I realized that 
as long as my son was fucking me, I might go on coming forever. 

Between my orgasmic convulsions I thought, How long can this go on? Then, 
after enduring the shuddering ecstasy of another thundering climax, I 
wondered if what I had always heard was true-that these young boys could go 
on forever. 

Something in me told me not to let go of what I had in my grasp. I kept my 
legs in a tight scissors-grip so Johnny couldn't work himself out, so he 
would have to go on fucking me until his prick finally gave out. I rammed my 
tongue even farther up Janie's cunt, filling my nostrils with its wholesome 
scent. And I dug in for sexual infinity. 

As the orgasms came and came, rolling like thunder, my thinking processes 
were ripped apart by lightning bolts, climactic flashes searing my brain 
into charred ecstasy. My thoughts became hallucinations of pricks and cunts 
in union and of sucking mouths devouring them, which eventually gave way to 
a totally sensory onslaught of viscous colors and eruptions, as though I 
were being drowned in a kaleidoscope of miraculously colored sperm. I was 
babbling every erotic word I could think of to urge my partners on, forcing 
them to ravage my senses beyond recognition. 

Maybe I wanted them to short-circuit me, to take me away from reality. I 
don't know. But I do remember that as my mind fragmented more and more, and 
my son's cock dug into my grasping pussy, and Janie's cunt sealed my sucking 
mouth, I felt freer and freer, as though I had somehow floated above all my 
troubles. 

And then, suddenly, after several minutes of swimming in a thick, spermy 
carnival of colors, I could define things again in my mind. I could make out 
the stark, forbidding lines of the projects looming ominously into the sky. 
At first I was blanketed by cool shadows as the buildings blotted out the 
sun. But then I noticed that the sky kept growing, getting bluer as it 
seemed to reach out to me. 

I was rising, that was it, being lifted by some unseen force from the jaw of 
the projects and being lifted from them. Now I was completely above them, 
seeing the tops of the buildings gradually become meaningless specks as I 
flew away from them. 

Just before I blacked out, I squeezed the thrusting body at my cunt with the 
full force of my thighs, while I split the walls of the warm pussy in my 
face and moaned, "We're free at last." 


THE END
