GC-411 4 Dirty Movies
by R. John Smythe


CHAPTER ONE

The tall dark man stood at the foot of the bed, leering down at the 
trembling girl. The thin sheet which she clutched to her chin, far from 
concealing her voluptuousness, sharply delineated the undulating contours 
of her ripe young body. It was stretched so taut across her big tits that 
their stiff nipples, as well as the prominent mound of her pussy, were 
clearly defined. She definitely had the best body of any we had seen that 
night. Her face was pretty too—large limpid eyes, high cheekbones, very 
full hips, a Mexican or maybe an Indian face. Her luxuriantly disarrayed 
hair was long and jet black, and a gleaming gold pendant dangled from each 
delicate earlobe.

The man bared his hairy chest and removed his shirt, never taking his 
eyes from the girl. The window he had entered by was still open, and a 
gentle breeze fluttered the gauzy curtains. He unzipped his pants and 
stepped out of them. A rapacious grin crept over his face as he watched the
girl lower her gaze to stare wide-eyed at the massive thick-veined penis 
rooted in the black jungle of hair at the base of his belly and pointed 
straight at her face. Her eyes registered horror, but she gave herself away
by wetting her upper lip with her little pointed tongue.

Now the man grabbed the sheet and began slowly drawing it toward him. She
releases her grip on it and pressed her arms to her side, stretching it all
the more tightly over her curves. Tantalizingly it climbed the upper slopes
of her breasts, which are forced upward and together by the pressure of her
arms, pauses… then slips from her naked nipples. Again her body betrayed 
her true emotions, because the large pink aureoles of her nipples were 
puffed up like little balloons and the knobs that thrust from their centers
looked as stiff as hard rubber.

She kept her arms to her sides as the sheet continued down her smooth 
trunk, past her deep navel, revealing the sharp breathtaking flare of her 
full hips, and on over the gentle swell of her belly, until just a fringe 
of black curls showed above the white hem. Even at this point I could tell 
she had a lot of hair, because it started all the way up where the lower 
slope of her belly ended and the upper swell of her cunt began.

After a second pause the man continued to draw down the sheet, but slower
now than before, as if he wanted to savor the gradual revelation of those 
luscious lips. When in a few moments the whole bristling patch of thick 
black ringlets was exposed, he jerked the sheet from between her tightly 
closed legs and whipped it over his shoulder. She was really stunning in 
her nakedness, and it was obvious that this slow exposure of such youthful 
beauty had had a strong effect on John, whose prick had grown in my hand, 
to the size of a cucumber—a large cucumber, Mother.

For a moment the rapist just stared down at that surprisingly luxuriant 
bush, rubbing his seminal leakage over the throbbing shank of his dick with
his hand until it was all slick and glistening. Then he took the girl’s 
ankles in his strong hands and forced them wide apart, revealing the puffy 
lips of her sweet little slit and the lower crease of her plump buttocks 
where the cunt hair ended in a few sparse tufts. The girl’s eyelashes 
fluttered and her voluminous bosom heaved with involuntary passion, as if 
his gaze alone was tickling her twat like a finger.

Still holding her ankles apart, he climbed onto the bed on his knees. He 
placed her legs over his shoulders, and she did not struggle when he 
released his grip on them and slid his hands down her smooth thighs, along 
her flaring hips and up over the distended globes of her tits. When the 
head of his huge prick nudged at the hairy lips between her legs, she 
reached down and guided it into the hole, raising her hips to the proper 
angle. Though he had not previously touched her crack, neither with finger 
nor tongue, it was obviously primed and ready, because on the first 
stroke—a slow half-stroke—his king-sized hot dog came out all covered with 
a nice shiny coat of cunt cream.

“Hm,” says John, “I wonder how many burglars she had before this one.” He
said it casually, but his voice was choked up with sexual excitement. No 
one answered him, and the spell was not broken, as it had been a few times 
before. I was glad, and I got some more spit in my hand and quickened my 
stroke on his cock.

Now the swarthy trespasser was pumping her at full steam, driving his 
enormous bludgeon to the balls on every stroke, and the girl’s hips were 
jerking to meet him, their tempos perfectly synchronized. I saw the girl’s 
shoulders hunch and rise up off the bed, her head dangling back; her eyes 
closed and her mouth opened all the way and her pelvis and stomach muscles 
started twitching spasmodically as she came into her release; but I didn’t 
see her lover shoot his load, because just then I got a load myself—right 
in the face!

I had been sitting cross-legged on the rug beside John, who had been 
lying on his back with his head propped up on a cushion. But with me 
jacking him faster and faster and the girl getting her orgasm so strongly, 
he couldn’t hold himself back, and when he felt himself coming, he rolled 
toward me and let me have it. I was so engrossed with the movie that it 
took me by surprise, but that hot burst on my cheeks and in my eyes snapped
me back to reality. John is one of those guys that loves to come on a 
woman, so I was quite used to it. Once I realized what I’d done, I made the
best of it by pointing his spurting muzzle down a little and taking the 
rest of the load on my tits the way he likes it. What do you think of that,
Mother? Have you ever had a man shoot his come on your body? Does it make 
you sick, Mother? Ha! I’ll bet you’ve got your righteous finger in your 
crack right now, just thinking about it. But read on, Mother dear, I’ll 
give you a lot more to think about while you’re sitting in church next 
Sunday.*

[*This little volume contains the bulk of a letter written by my young 
friend Nadine M— to her very proper socialite mother in Cambridge, Mass., 
from whom she ran away two years ago following the worst sort of scandal. 
Begun as a short account of her “daily routine,” containing all the things 
that would shock her mother, it soon mushroomed into a major project which 
engrossed her for several months. She was so delighted with the finished 
product, that she made me a present of it, asking only that I withhold her 
full name. I have made minor corrections in the writing and have deleted 
certain passages of no importance to anyone outside Nadine’s family, but 
otherwise this is an accurate transcript. The original is no longer in my 
possession, having been sent to her mother on March 20, 1969, a little less
than three months after the events recorded here took place. —R.J.S.]

So, I missed the end of the film. Paul, who lay on the sofa beside us, 
laughed like hell at this “accident,” and so did John, after I had milked 
the last blob out of him. But even with all this laughter, the mood was not
broken—for me at least—and I was more than ready for “a little something.” 
I didn’t have to ask for it. Jimmy switched off the projector and—Yes, 
Mother, I live here with three men—he turned off the projector and was over
me almost before I could wipe the come out of my eyes, jabbing me in the 
face with his big cock. His is the longest of the three; he beats John by a
quarter of an inch, but I think Paul’s is the thickest, though we never 
actually measured for thickness. I leaned back on my hands with the still 
warm semen running down between my tits and took his pulsing prick in my 
mouth, but when he started pumping away in earnest, I pulled away.

“For God’s sake, Jimmy,” I panted, “give it to me in the cunt—that’s 
where I need it!”

“Anything you say, Tits,” he said (that’s what they call me sometimes—you
know why). “Lift your ass.”

I lifted my ass, and while Jimmy slid the chair cushion under me and 
knelt between my legs, Paul reached out from the sofa with his foot and 
pinched one of my nipples between his toes, rolling his curved cock between
his hands. It curves to the side, Mother, did you ever see one like 
that?—or have you ever fucked with the light on?

“I don’t know if I can wait for seconds,” he said, smearing John’s 
congealing love sap around my tit with his foot, rolling it into sticky 
little gum balls.

“Oh, you poor baby,” I said, reaching for his leaky banana. “Come, let 
mama suck your lolly-pop.”

So while Jimmy took his prick in his hands and began to tickle my 
elevated clitoris with the head of it, Paul slid off the sofa to his knees 
and straddled my face, both of them facing the same way. I took Paul’s nuts
into my mouth and ran my tongue all around his scrotum, massaging the 
muscular cheeks of his ass with my hands and teasing his butthole with my 
fingertips, while his twitching penis made a swath of warm leakage across 
my forehead. Meanwhile, Jimmy was setting me on fire by whipping his dick 
up and down just inside my slit until I thought it would boil over. Finally
he twined his fingers into my bush, on the hump just above the crack, where
the hair grows thickest—and sunk his full length into me, striking the 
trigger at the deepest part of my cunt on the first jab. God, it felt good!

After Jimmy began his pounding stroke, kneeling between my thighs with 
his surging body upright, and after Paul dropped to all fours and got down 
to business, pumping his prick in and out of my mouth in a frenzy of 
lust—it didn’t take long. The movies had us all red hot, and after only a 
few minutes I felt myself going off. My ass was bouncing high on the 
cushion all by itself as my cunt exploded inside, time after time, like it 
would never stop.

I was still coming when Jimmy started; he hunched forward and buried his 
face between my tits, pressing them against his ears, and I felt his 
powerful bursts surging deep into my body, filling my cunt to the brim with
thick hot come! And my orgasms started all over again.

Jimmy was still lurching when Paul shot his first blast down my throat. 
Wow, was he hot! You will be happy to know, Mother, that I am an expert in 
the art of the blowjob, and I can usually gulp down all a man can dish out;
but this time, no matter how fast I swallowed, I couldn’t keep up-with him.
The stuff squirted out around the edges and overflowed on my cheeks; it got
in my nose and in my ears, and I had to wash my hair that night too. But it
was good, real good—my pussy kept popping like a string of firecrackers 
through the whole thing.

When we had all toweled off and got our breath back, Paul said, “Well, I 
admit that last reel was pretty good—better than the others—but I still say
that any of us could make better fuck-movies than that. We’re wasting our 
money on these things —they aren’t even in color.”

“Well, why don’t we try it, for Christ’s sake, instead of running our 
mouths about it all the time?” Jimmy snapped.

“No shit,” said John, scratching his balls. “Let’s try it. We got the 
camera and we got the cunt. You’re not camera shy, are you, Nadine?”

“Hell no, but you can watch me every night, in the flesh. I mean, if you 
want to rent the films out, that’s okay—I always did want to be an actress,
ha ha!—but for our own enjoyment you ought to get new girls, girls we’ve 
never seen before. And it should be real too, the real thing. Otherwise, 
your films won’t be any better than what we’ve seen.”

“That’s right,” Paul agreed. “If we just go out and hire some whores and 
point a camera at them, it’ll look just as fake as these. And it’ll cost us
more, not less.”

“There’s no shortage of girls who like to fuck,” I said, “and a lot of 
them would get a kick out of doing it in front of a camera. Anyway, it 
would be a good test of you guys’ cuntsmanship, a chance to prove some of 
the tall tales you’re always telling me.”

Jimmy gulped down his beer and said, “By God, let’s do it. Let’s make a 
contest out of it—see who can make the best film in one day. Nadine can get
‘em developed at the plant. We’ll go out separately, and whoever shoots the
most girls and gets the most pussy is the winner.”

“But look,” said Paul, “we’re forgetting something. We’ve only got the 
two little cameras with five-minute reels, and they’re awkward as hell to 
operate under normal conditions. They’d be impossible for what you’re 
suggesting. Anyway, we’d need tripods and God knows what all, and how would
we lug all that shit around where the cunts hang out?”

“That’s right,” said John, flipping his limp dick back and forth 
absent-mindedly. “It’d never work.”

“But wait a minute,” I said. “At the plant they’ve got just what you 
need. A brand new camera, not even on the market yet. It uses a special 
kind of eight millimeter film cartridge that runs forty-five minutes—no 
rewinding or anything. It’s even got a built-in high-intensity movie light,
an automatic exposure control, a power zoom lens—25x, no less—everything. 
It’s just the thing; you can carry it in your pocket it’s so small—I think 
a holster comes with it. It’s also got a folding tripod and an extra 
light—that wouldn’t be hard to carry around.”

“A camera like that’d cost a fortune, Nadine. It’s out of the question.”

“I wasn’t suggesting that you buy it, silly. I think I could get, mm, 
three of them, with a projector, without much trouble.”

“Steal ‘em?” asked John.

“No, stupid, I’m not a thief.”

“Well, how then?”

I lit a cigarette and caught a little leakage from my pussy with a 
Kleenex. “My boss, the timid Mister Tom Hanson, has had a hard-on for me 
since the first time he saw me. He’s dropped a few remarks, but he’s too 
shy for anything else, and I never encouraged him. I have a hunch that he’d
be more than willing to hand over a few trifles for a piece of my young 
tail.”

“Beautiful!”

“Perfect!”

“She’s not a thief, she’s a whore! Ha, ha, ha!”

“Now wait a minute,” I said, “If it’s going to be a contest, we need a 
prize for the winner.”

“Let’s see,” said Paul, rubbing his chin, “The winner gets to sleep with 
Nadine, uh… three extra times for three weeks.”

They all agreed to that, but I had a better idea. I went into the bedroom
and got a couple of snapshots from my dresser drawer.

“How about this for a prize,” I said, showing them the color prints.

“Wow!” said Jimmy. “Who is it?”

“My little sister, Peggy. Like her?” One picture showed your sweet young 
daughter in a bikini that I’ll bet you never saw, Mother. Her plump titties
were about to pop out of the little white top—two tiny triangles held 
together with shoestrings—and she had the bottom piece rolled so far down 
her lovely white belly that a fringe of blonde pussy fuzz showed vividly in
the sunlight above it. She is a very beautiful girl, Mother, in case you 
hadn’t noticed.

The other shot was similar to the first, except that she had taken the 
top off, and her sweet pink nipples were blazing away against the almost 
blue-white skin of her naked tits. She really looks older than 
seventeen—except in the face.

“When did you get these?”

“The other day, in a letter she wrote me. One of her boyfriends took 
them.”

“Well, if she’s not in Sago Beach, how’s she gonna be a prize for us?”

“She’s coming down from Massachusetts. She’s finally had all she can take
from Mother, and she’s running away. After the scandal I caused her, Mother
won’t dare do anything about Peggy. The old bitch would let us both die in 
the street before she’d do anything to risk another ‘humiliation,’ as she 
calls it.” (And I was right, wasn’t I, Mother?) “But, uh, you don’t think 
we’re too old for her?” asked John.

“What?” I said. “Twenty-seven’s not too old for anybody. Anyway, she 
knows all about you. I sent her some pictures and told her the whole deal. 
She’ll live here with us, and she’ll take turns sleeping with you guys, 
just like I do. But the winner of the movie contest will get her first, and
for a solid week. Sound okay?”

They were all for it, Mother. They could hardly wait to get their peckers
into your little girl.

“When’s she coming, Tits?”

“She’s shooting for next Tuesday, and that’ll give us plenty of time. 
Tomorrow’s Friday… I won’t have time to give Hanson a date, so I’ll have to
fuck him in the office during the day. But that’ll work out good. So I’ll 
have the equipment tomorrow night, and you can get started early Saturday 
morning.”

“How about from dawn to midnight?” suggested Paul. “Unless we get into 
something we can’t get out of, so to speak.”

“That’s good,” I said. “You’ll need Sunday to rest—if you have any luck, 
that is. Then Monday I’ll take the films to work. I know a guy at the plant
who’ll develop them for me and have them ready by Tuesday. Peggy should be 
here that same evening, and we’ll all see the results.”

“Good,” said Jimmy with a clap of his hands. “Tits and her sister can be 
the judges—but don’t tell little Blondie she’s the prize till afterward. 
Might affect her decision, donchaknow?”

The next day I wore a very short silky dress to work—no bra and a pair of
black lace bikini panties with an open crotch. (Ever wear that kind, 
Mother? Very airy, you know.) The very first thing in the morning I went 
into Mr. Hanson’s private office on the pretense that I had left something 
there the day before. I bent over his desk and let my tits swing freely 
inside the loose dress, making sure the scoop neckline gave him a good view
inside. He couldn’t take his eyes off my chest; the thin silk clung to my 
nipples like a second skin. In case you don’t know, Mother, I have 
extremely prominent nipples; they go quite well with my very prominent 
tits. Ah, but you would remember that from the magazine pictures, wouldn’t 
you? Did you put them in the family scrapbook next to my baby pictures? Ha,
ha!

“Why, Mister Hanson,” I said straightening up, “what are you looking at?”
When he saw me grinning down at him, he turned red as an apple. He stood up
and turned toward the window.

“My God, Nadine… you torture a man!”

While his back was to me, I slipped out of my dress and sat on his desk 
with one knee up. When he turned around and saw my hairy cunt gaping at him
through the crotchless panties and my big naked tits jiggling as I tapped 
the toe of my high-heeled slipper on his desk—well, he was speechless. 
After his eyes had thoroughly drunk in my body, I said, “Hadn’t you better 
lock the door… Tom?”

He said, “Yes, yes, the door!” and ran to lock it. Then he turned and 
watched me do my tit-swinging walk over to the leather-covered sofa. “My 
God, Nadine! What a body you have!”

“Would you like to make love to me, Tom?”

“Would I like—! Well, for Christ’s sake, isn’t that the idea?”

“Yes. It is. But would you do me a little favor afterward?”

“Anything, you luscious bitch,” he said, reaching out for my nipples and 
rolling them between his fingers. “Anything!”

I told him what I wanted and he agreed. Then I knelt at his feet, took 
his pants down and sucked his thick cock—but only for a minute or two, 
because it was ready to go off. I made him sit down on the sofa and 
straddled his lap, guiding his stubby dick into my crack, which was juicing
up pretty well just from the excitement of fucking in the office, and swung
my jugs back and forth across his jowls, letting him suck or smothering him
in my cleavage.

“Oh, fuck me, Tom!” I urged, “Give it to me, honey!”

In a minute the sofa was bouncing violently, and it was just beginning to
feel good, when the old bastard let me have it. I tried to work myself into
an orgasm on his wilting penis, but it shrunk too fast, so I had to give 
myself a clit job with my finger in the ladies’ room later on. After lunch 
Hanson wanted a repeat performance, promising to do better. This time he 
laid me on my back and screwed me on the rug, and he did do better, I must 
admit —at least I got my cookies this time. I could make a real lover out 
of him if I wanted to take the time.

Anyway, I got the equipment—as well as a raise the following week, 
incidentally. The boys spent that evening playing with their new cameras, 
and bright and early Saturday morning they were up and raring to go. 
Everything went as planned, and that Tuesday Sis arrived just in time for 
the premiere showing. Here’s how the shooting went…

CHAPTER TWO

It was a little silly to start so early, because none of the boys scored 
before midmorning, but they were all up before daylight that Saturday and 
already cruising the hunting grounds—or should I say “cunting” grounds?—by 
the crack of dawn. It was a beautiful day—bright, clear and very warm for 
January. It was one of those sexual Florida days, you know what I mean, 
Mother? One of those days when just a glance out over the ocean or up along
a deserted beach is enough to make your nipples hard.

The boys each decided on a separate area to work, so they wouldn’t get in
each other’s way. Jimmy chose the Lake Leethy public beach for a starting 
place. He parked his Jag in the lot near the north pavilion and had 
breakfast in the snack bar when it opened. The beach began to fill around 
eight o’clock, but when after an hour nothing promising showed up, Jimmy 
strapped his camera over his bathing briefs, slung his film pouch over his 
broad tanned shoulders, and moved out to the north along the hard sand of 
the upwash line. He passed the beach cottages just above the bathing area 
and continued up the unfrequented stretch of beach toward a certain place 
about a quarter-mile further where the college girls sometimes came to sun 
themselves in the nude.

But when he got there, the sand was deserted. He climbed the beach ridge 
and looked down the path on the other side, but there was no sign of life 
and no cars parked in the clearing. He was about to say “Shit” and head 
back to the pavilions, when he heard a car pull off the highway and into 
the woods. A moment later a Volks bounced into the clearing in the pines 
and two bikini-clad girls got out. “Hot damn!” Jimmy said to himself, 
ducking into the palmetto cover at the top of the ridge. By crouching low 
and pointing his camera from under a palmetto fan, he was able to film the 
girls as they came up the path. These cameras are very silent, but between 
their transistor radio and the surf, they couldn’t have heard a vacuum 
cleaner.

Both girls looked about nineteen. The one on the left was a slim blonde 
with a deep tan—all over, as it turned out. Her breasts were small but 
well-shaped and exposed almost to the nipples by the tiny black bra, and 
her hips, though “close to the bone,” as they say, flared nicely from her 
tiny waist. With a lean frame like that you would have expected her to have
skinny legs, but they weren’t; she had the legs of a ballet dancer—full 
thighs and strong calves.

The other girl was quite different. She had long straight brown hair, and
in contrast to her girlfriend’s firm bronze body, hers was soft, fluid, and
creamy. Her big tits swung and bounced loosely in polkadot cups, and they 
had a close, creased cleavage, all the more delicious looking beside the 
blonde’s naturally wide separation. Her hips were broad and milky white 
below her deep navel, and the soft skin of her belly was almost blinding 
against the red and blue polkadots of her G-string, which was so tight, I 
noticed, that the thin cloth had pulled up into the crease of her cunt and 
was stretched taut over its plump little cheeks, making a mouthwatering “W”
between her heavy thighs.

They passed Jimmy without seeing him and jogged down the sandy slope to 
the beach. They looked damn good from behind too: The dark-skinned blonde 
had two cute dimples on her ass, one over each cheek, and again we could 
see that the brunette’s bikini was too small for her, because almost an 
inch of her crack was showing over the hipband.

They turned north, and Jimmy followed them with the telephoto lens until 
he could no longer get a clear shot without being seen. Then he sheathed 
the camera and dashed along the path that ran parallel to the ocean until 
he came to the next opening in the dense foliage at the top of the bluff. 
He crouched low and peered through the sea grapes.

There they were, between two sand dunes directly below him, spreading 
their blankets. He had hardly focused in on them, when the blonde stood up,
looked up and down the beach, faced the camera and removed the top of her 
bikini. Her breasts were slightly rounded cones and as deeply tanned as the
rest of her body; her nipples were mahogany colored—almost black from the 
sun. She lay on her back, feet to the ocean, beside her pink-skinned 
companion, who so far had not removed any clothing. But once (Jimmy had 
zoomed to within about six feet of them) she took a deep breath and I 
thought her tits would either pop out the top or rip the bra in half. She 
had a nice set, Mother—but not as nice as mine.

After a minute the topless blonde pulled a bottle of suntan lotion out of
her straw bag and handed it to her friend. The brunette sat up, opened the 
bottle and began smearing it over the slim girl’s belly and sides, her big 
white tits swinging from side to side as she worked.

Jimmy heard the blonde say, “Come on, Maryann, get it all over me.” And 
with a shy grin Maryann began to apply the oil to Blondie’s tits, only 
grazing the outer slopes at first, then getting bolder and covering both 
breasts with long sweeps of her palm from G-string to collarbone, until the
ebony-tipped twin cones gleamed in the sun like swollen pyramids of 
polished copper.

When she had covered the blonde’s beautiful long legs, working the lotion
well up her inner thighs, right to the crotch of her black G-string, the 
heavier girl lay down again, this time with her feet toward Jimmy—and 
spread wide apart. I can’t say for sure, but it looked like there was a 
spot of moisture in the polkadot crack of her pussy; did it get her hot, do
you suppose, rubbing those tits and legs? But it might only have been a 
little peepee, after all.

Nothing happened for a little while, and Jimmy stopped shooting. Then the
blonde raised up on an elbow, facing Maryann, and said something to her, 
tugging at one of her bra straps. Jimmy whipped up his camera; he still had
about twenty more minutes on the first cartridge. “She’s trying to get 
Maryann to take it off, see,” Jimmy told us, “but Maryann said, ‘Oh, no! My
chest would be red as a lobster! I’m not used to this climate like you 
are.’” She cupped her breasts in her hands protectively, but after a little
more persuasion and giggling, she sat up and let the blonde untie the bow 
at her back.

Maryann was still facing the ridge, and the camera caught the full 
titillating beauty of the moment that her big moon-white tits came tumbling
out into the golden daylight. (We rolled this part again in slow-motion and
nearly had a gang-orgasm then and there!) Now it was time for the blonde to
apply the lotion, and she went at it with tongue-hardening vigor. Maryann’s
soft flesh rolled, undulated, jiggled and yielded to the brown hand of her 
girl friend like a sea of cream. The blonde lifted each tit with one hand, 
while the other hand thoroughly massaged it with finger strokes spiraling 
outward from the small rosebud nipple. With both hands she palmed the oil 
over Maryann’s gently rounded belly, even inserting her fingertips into the
hipband of her briefs. The brunette placed a towel over her eyes and 
abandoned her nearly naked body to the apparently eager hands of her 
golden-skinned companion.

When this operation was completed—more than completed—the slim girl shook
her short straw-colored hair in the sea breeze, put the cap on the suntan 
lotion, and lay back on the blanket. She put her hands down to her 
glistening hips and released the black bows that held her G-string 
together, coiling the strings up and tucking them under the triangle of 
black cloth that covered her pussy. But in doing this, she lifted the flap 
enough to give us a brief glimpse of her bush; it was the same color as the
hair of her head—sunbleached blonde. She was evidently a little hesitant 
about baring her cunt in front of her girlfriend, and for a few minutes it 
seemed this was as far as the strip was going.

Jimmy was about to hit the end of his cartridges, when the blonde lifted 
her head, looked at Maryann, who still had the towel over her face, looked 
down at her own body, hesitated… then spread her legs and whisked the last 
patch of her clothing out of sight with her fingernails. Fully naked now, 
she smiled and lay back, covering her own face with a towel and turning up 
the radio.

We got about thirty seconds of a highly magnified shot of that cute 
little humpbacked cunt;— looking right up the bore with the double 
hedgerows of white gold hair growing wild along its slightly parted 
lips—and the reel ended.

Jimmy took out his tripod and unfolded it, clamping the camera onto the 
head piece. He inserted a fresh cartridge into the breech, aimed in, and 
set the trigger to automatic. There wasn’t a moment to spare now. He ran 
along the ridge to the next path leading down to the beach and approached 
the girls from the north. He had just forty-five minutes…

Meanwhile, Paul had been cruising the streets of Palm Pond Village, a 
subdivision just outside the city limits of West Sago Beach. He had chosen 
this area because it was supposed to be running over with promiscuous young
housewives, and everyone knew that wife-swapping was a common thing here, 
but it was almost ten o’clock before he had any luck. His idea was to pose 
as a camera salesman to get his foot in, then make his play, but so far he 
had been turned away at the door each time.

He had stopped his Volkswagen at the comer of Grenton and Twelfth Streets
to decide whether to keep trying or to move on, when a full-bodied young 
woman with long black hair that had obviously not been brushed yet, 
appeared at the door of a house across the street. She yawned and walked 
sleepily to the street to get the newspaper. Paul pointed the high-powered 
lens at her and zoomed in.

The blue ruffled housecoat she wore was translucent and unfastened in 
front, though she clutched it together at the waist. It fluttered away from
her legs as she walked, parting as far as her upper thighs once or twice, 
and you could see the dark circles of her nipples through the thin 
material. When she bent down for the paper, the lapels gaped open and the 
bright sun flashed on her big white pointed tits. Just at that moment, 
while she was still bent over, something made her look up. Maybe it 
occurred to her that it was too late in the day to be outside in that 
particular housecoat. At any rate, she looked right at Paul who had her 
half-exposed jugs in sharp focus.

She quickly closed the front of her garment and straightened up, holding 
the paper in front of her breasts. Thinking he could invent some story if 
there was any trouble, Paul kept the camera trained on her. For a moment 
she stood there frowning at him, her dark eyes flashing. She was really a 
beautiful girl, about twenty-five or so; the blue gown blowing about her 
curvy legs and her thick black hair gave her the appearance of a Spanish 
princess or an Arabian concubine.

Then her frown faded, and the corners of her full unpainted lips turned 
up slightly in a seductive smile as she turned around and walked back to 
the door. It was a sexier walk than she had used before, and you could see 
the crack of her ass winking dimly through the blue veil as her full round 
cheeks rose and fell.

By now Paul’s cock was straining inside his ivy league trousers like a 
fish in a net. There is something about a hard-on, Mother, that makes even 
a timid man bold—and Paul is not timid. So he lowered the camera, started 
the car, and drove straight into the driveway across the street. The 
mailbox bore the name Harris.

The musical “Just a minute” that came in answer to the doorbell sounded 
encouraging. “And the minute she opened the door,” Paul told us, “I knew I 
had it made. She’d taken off the robe and was in the process of getting 
into a little cotton minidress that she couldn’t quite manage to get zipped
up in the back. She invited me in almost before I got going on my sales 
talk bit and sat me down on the sofa. There was obviously no one in the 
house except her—it was almost, too easy. I could tell by the way her tits 
moved inside the front of her thin dress that she hadn’t put a bra on, and 
when she sat down in a chair opposite me and crossed her legs, I saw that 
she hadn’t put on any panties either. I tried to stay cool and keep my eyes
off those luscious white thighs while I explained the wonders of the new 
camera, but it wasn’t easy—and she knew it. Pretty soon she asked if I 
would like a cup of coffee, and when she walked into the kitchen I saw that
her dress was still open in back—and no sign of a bra strap. While we drank
the coffee, she told me they had had a wild party last night and that she 
had just gotten up. When I asked what kind of party it was, she just rolled
her eyes and whistled, pointing to the other end of the sofa. There were 
two nylon stockings draped over the arm, and a black lace bra dangling in 
front of the television screen. Over a lamp shade hung a pair of 
transparent red panties. ‘Oh, that kind of party,’ I said. She laughed and 
gathered up the underwear, and when she came back into the front room I was
on my feet. ‘How would you like a demonstration of the camera, Mrs. 
Harris?’ She came up very close to me and said, ‘What are you going to do 
with the film you took across the street, Mister Rutter?’ “I stammered out 
something about testing the lens, but she just laughed and handed me a hair
brush. ‘Will you brush my hair please?—Let’s go out to the sunporch.’ By 
now I was ready to throw her down on the floor and fuck her and the hell 
with the contest, but I held back and hurriedly set up the tripod on the 
sunporch—there was plenty of light there and the back yard was enclosed by 
a high hedge. While she took the coffee cups to the kitchen, I trained the 
camera on a bamboo divan and locked it on automatic.”

This part of Paul’s film began with a view of the empty divan. Then Paul 
and Mrs. Harris came on the scene and sat down She turned her bare back on 
Paul and he began to brush her long black hair. As he did so, he stroked 
the sides of her neck with his free hand—then her cheek… She closed her 
eyes and let her head hang back. Paul’s hand crept down her neck and inside
the open dress, slowly shoving it off her smooth white shoulder. She made 
no protest.

He put the brush down and bared her other shoulder, massaging her now 
with both hands. “Oh, that feels good,” she said. He worked his hands down 
her spine to where the zipper began, just above the crease of her ample 
buttocks, then up again along her sides, his fingers brushing the sides of 
her breasts inside the dress. Still no protest.

He put his lips to her neck, nibbling at her earlobe, and when she turned
her face to his we saw that her expression now was one of breathless 
passion. Her tongue slithered out between her parted lips and slid into 
Paul’s mouth, and as they kissed he pulled the dress down her arms, giving 
us a beautiful profile view of her naked tits. He brought his hands up 
under her arms and over those big firm jugs, at the same time turning her 
toward the camera. As she turned, her legs spread wide, exposing her 
beautiful naked crotch under the short skirt, filled with black tangled 
hair and divided in the middle by an oozing pink slit. She slipped her arms
from the sleeves and wrapped them around Paul’s neck, ravishing his whole 
face with wet kisses, as his fingers kneaded the soft flesh of her bosom. 
He lowered his lips to a nipple and sucked it and licked it until it was 
smooth and swollen with pleasure, while his hand slid down her belly and 
into the crumpled dress, appearing again in her crotch. We watched his 
middle finger slowly disappear into her juicy cunt, and the girl’s body 
began to undulate and sweat—she was actually drooling at the mouth, she was
so hot!

Paul sat on the floor in front of her now, and she lifted her ass so he 
could pull the dress off her legs. He held her knees wide apart and kept 
his head low for a minute to give us a breathtaking view right up the 
barrel of her crack, bubbling away in the midst of her shaggy black bush. 
Then, still with his head low, he parted the hairy lips at the top and 
massaged them until her shiny pink clitoris bulged into view. When he began
to lap it with rapid strokes of his tongue, she threw her head back and her
mouth opened wide, a trickle of saliva dripping from her chin. Her pelvis 
began to twitch and she frantically pawed at her tits—almost as if she were
trying to make them ejaculate.

Paul kept it up relentlessly, determined to bring her to a violent 
orgasm—“the real thing,” as he said. It was real, all right; nobody could 
act that well! When she started coming, her belly muscles contracted and 
her legs came right up off the floor, high over Paul’s bobbing head, and 
her hands clutched the cushions of the divan as though to keep herself from
shooting into the air. I’ve never seen a girl slobber like that during an 
orgasm— even one as strong as this. Oh, I drool a little myself when I get 
it real good. Sometime you must come visit us, Mother, and I’ll let you 
watch one of the boys eat me, you’ve never seen that before, have you? You 
could take a snapshot of it and put it in the old scrapbook, right next to 
the one of me in the topless bathing suit. Ha, ha! But anyway, this chick 
was fairly foaming at the mouth before she stopped coming. It ran out the 
corners of her gaping lips, down her cheeks and over her tits, which were 
flopping up and down furiously like soft plastic footballs. Paul smeared 
the spit all over her chest until her tits gleamed and dripped like huge 
scoops of vanilla ice cream in the sun. She completely lost herself in the 
fury of her release: she was nothing but a beautiful animal, empty of 
everything but the sexual ecstasy radiating through her body from her 
boiling cunt.

One thing that made this picture so enchanting was Mrs. Harris’s nipples.
They were dark scarlet in color, about two inches in diameter, and there 
was no blending of color at the circumference. My own nipples are larger 
than hers, and they protrude more, but the pink coloring of my aureoles 
sort of fades out into the cream-colored body of my tits, you know what I 
mean? Most nipples are like that. But this girl’s were different; the 
contrast between those dark reddish nipples and the pure white of her tit’s
gave an increased awareness of her nakedness—they looked almost like they 
had been painted on with a fine sharp-edged brush.

When at last she went limp, Paul turned around and looked at the camera, 
a broad shit-eating grin on his face. He licked his lips and winked, as if 
to say, “Mm, good!” His mouth was all afroth with pussy juice and his 
cheeks wet to the eyeballs. “I was thinking I had the contest in the bag,” 
he said, “with that little piece of footage.” But he had some strong 
competition at work against him, as you’ll see, Mama.

Paul needed some pussy now, fast, before he creamed his ivy leagues, so 
he swung the panting housewife’s legs up onto the divan and removed his 
clothes. He stood over her for a moment looking down at the naked 
shimmering shape stretched out in the sunlight, her large but firm breasts 
rising and falling, her soft rounded belly still trembling with fatigue. 
Then he threw one leg over her face, and with one knee on the divan and the
other foot on the floor, he tickled her eyelids with the blonde fuzz of his
balls.

When she opened her eyes and saw that long curved prick twitching above 
her forehead, she said, “Oh!” in a breathless voice, and began to lick his 
crotch like a cat, never taking her eyes from the swollen head. She licked 
the sensitive area between his balls and his asshole, and Paul’s pelvis 
involuntarily cocked forward, and her tongue unhesitatingly burrowed into 
the groove between his lower buttocks.

But when it actually drilled boldly and hungrily right into his hole, he 
had to pull away. “I couldn’t take it!” he said. “When that tongue went up 
my ass, I actually felt myself starting to come. If I’d let her do it 
another second, I’d have shot my wad!” He pulled back and kept his genitals
out of her reach for a moment, staring up at the sky as he struggled to 
hold back the flood that threatened to end the game prematurely. We could 
see his cock pulsing rhythmically on the verge of ejaculation, but he 
managed to subdue it, and nothing but a clear string of seminal leakage 
dripped from the trembling hole.

When Mrs. Harris felt the warm fluid on her forehead, she immediately 
moved her face upward, letting the discharge drip along the bridge of her 
nose and into her mouth. She opened her lips directly beneath the flow, 
which still oozed from the little hole, and Paul watched it drip onto her 
tongue and down her throat.

Then, without moving her mouth from the stream, she said, “Fuck me, 
Mister… please fuck me!”

Without a word Paul crawled between her open thighs and let her guide his
cock into her tight dripping cunt. He clutched her broad hips and pumped 
her vigorously with long fast strokes, and again the drool bubbled from her
lips and her tongue lolled out of her mouth in other-worldly ecstasy. Her 
bent legs opened even wider and her hips ground and thrust upward to meet 
his violent jabs. Paul said, “I was trying not to think, trying to keep my 
mind blank, to make it last. If I had just once let myself realize what an 
unbelievably beautiful, impossibly passionate piece of cunt I had under me,
it would have been all over almost before it got started.”

All of a sudden, Paul heard the front door open and the voice of a young 
woman. “Hey, Rosemary, you up? Oh, there you—Oh!—” She was standing at the 
door to the sunporch, eyes bulging, one hand to her mouth.

But Mrs. Harris was too far gone to hear anything, and she just kept 
right on pumping away, as if they were alone. “As for me,” Paul said, “I 
didn’t care whether she heard or not. I couldn’t have stopped if her 
husband had been standing there. As a matter of fact, this somehow made it 
even better, that pretty young thing watching us like that.”

The intruder didn’t say another word after that —just stood there 
staring. In about thirty seconds Paul and Rosemary came together in such a 
violent orgasm that they nearly tumbled off the divan.

CHAPTER THREE

“After I’d unloaded myself, of course the seriousness of what had 
happened hit me. When I glanced up again, the other girl was gone, and I 
thought, ‘Uh oh! She’s gone to get the cops or something!’ ” (It was just 
about at this point that the reel came to an end, and the camera cut off 
automatically.) “I was still lying over her, still coupled up, trying to 
decide whether to grab my camera and my pants and run for it, or to hide in
the closet, or what— when here comes the neighbor again, not with the cops,
but with two handfuls of toilet paper, and a broad grin on her face. 
‘Here,’ she said. T thought you two might need this,’ holding out the paper
to me.

“Now Rosemary comes out of it. She sits bolt upright, with my cock still 
in her, and stares goggle-eyed at the other woman, trying to cover her tits
with her hands. ‘Lucy!’ she says, ‘What the hell are you doing here?’ And 
the other one giggles and says, ‘You two sun worshippers wipe yourselves 
before you get sticky. Don’t worry, I won’t watch. I’m going to try to find
the bra I left here last night, and then if you don’t mind a little 
company, I’ll come out and sunbath with you. I didn’t want to clean my 
house anyway.’ And off she goes into the house.

“After a minute Rosemary looks at me, shrugs her shoulders and laughs. 
‘It’s in the bathroom, Lucy!’ she yells. ‘Lucy’s okay,’ she says to me. ‘We
switched husbands last night. She just gave me a scare, popping in like 
that.’ “Me too!” I said, slipping out of her and wiping off my cock.

“While she dried her tits and mopped her bush, I slipped over to the 
camera and snapped in a fresh cartridge. I figured I wouldn’t be able to 
get back to the camera once Lucy came back, so at the risk of wasting some 
footage, I flipped her on again. I was damn glad the thing ran so quietly. 
But Rosemary saw me messing with it.

“‘Was that thing turned on?’ she says suspiciously. ‘No, no,’ I says. ‘I 
was just getting it ready to put away. It won’t run unless you hold the 
trigger back.’ Whether she believed this, or just liked the idea of being 
on film, I don’t know, but anyway the subject was dropped, and when Lucy 
came back she didn’t give the camera a second glance… ” Lucy was shorter 
and younger than Rosemary. She was also plumper, but nice just the same. 
She had her short blonde hair in curlers, and wore a pair of tight red 
slacks and a white T-shirt; like Rosemary, she was barefooted. Rosemary and
Paul were starting to get dressed, but Lucy said, “Oh, don’t get dressed up
for me, kids. I’m not company.” Rosemary explained that Lucy lived next 
door.

“This is Mr. Rutter, Lucy,” she said.

“Call me Paul, girls.”

“Well, I should think so!” said Lucy, peeling off her T-shirt. To do this
she had discreetly—or coyly —turned her back on the naked couple sitting on
the divan, but that of course brought her face to face with us as we 
watched the film. She wore a brief bra of blue lace through which her 
nipples were quite visible. The bra cups were a bit too small for her and 
they lifted her plump titties and pushed them together in a long deep cleft
that reached almost to her collarbone.

When Lucy turned around, Rosemary smiled, no longer attempting to cover 
herself, and said, “Do I have to share everything with you, Lucy?”

Lucy said, “Don’t be selfish, Rosemary,” glancing down at Paul’s cock 
which was beginning to stir and lift its head. “Anyway, I just said I was 
going to take a sunbath. All you think about is sex. I had enough last 
night to last all week!”

Paul put his hands out and stroked her wide hips. “A week?” he said with 
a grin.

“Well… maybe not that long,” Lucy giggled.

“I thought not,” said Paul, running his hands up her sides to her 
armpits, lightly over the round globes of her tits, and up to her bra 
straps, which he flipped off her shoulders.

“Hey,” she said, putting her hands over her breasts.

“Aren’t you going to sunbathe, like you said? Turn around, if you’re 
embarrassed.” He put his hands on her hips and turned her to the camera, at
the same time drawing down the zipper at the side of her slacks. The look 
of anticipation on her face was quite clear. It was perfect, because she 
had no idea she was being filmed.

Paul pushed the tight slacks down her hips and she stepped from them. She
wore a pair of blue bikini panties with no crotch patch—perfectly 
transparent; her little triangle of cunt hair was blonde, but much darker 
than her other hair. Paul reached up and unhooked her bra, and after a 
moment’s hesitation, during which she held the lace cups to her breasts and
looked teasingly over her shoulder at him, she let it slide down her arms 
to the floor.

Her tits were like plump moons, almost perfectly spherical, with 
unusually high nipples that seemed to point their girlish knobs upward 
instead of straight out. Paul again stroked her hips, rolling down the 
elastic of her panties. She stepped out of those too, showing us the rather
sparse bush at the bottom of her soft round belly. In comparison to 
Rosemary’s creamy whiteness, Lucy’s complexion was more of a baby pink, 
though her tits and belly were of lighter tone.

After Paul and Lucy had looked into each other’s eyes for a long moment—a
moment in which the girl’s face took on a seriously passionate expression 
for the first time—he slipped one arm around her and their lips came 
together. He brought his other hand up under her pink tipped titties and 
stroked them one after the other while they kissed, rolling her little 
nipple knobs between his thumb and forefinger until they filled out. When 
his hand dropped to Lucy’s heavy, tightly closed thighs, Rosemary slid from
the divan and sat on the floor in front of her neighbor. When Lucy would 
not admit Paul’s hand between her thighs, Rosemary gripped her knees and 
tried to force them apart, saying, “Come on, Lucy, open up like last 
night.”

When the younger girl did finally spread her legs, she was in no joking 
mood. Paul’s finger spread the moisture along her pussy lips then wiggled 
into her up to the knuckle, their mouths still locked together—and she 
became a savage, hungry, groaning animal. She quivered on Paul’s finger 
like a bowl of jelly, and pushed him back on the divan, straddling his now 
stiff and jerking prick, and jabbed clumsily at it with her cunt, as if she
couldn’t wait to get it in her. Rosemary reached between them and helped 
her get it in the hole.

“Man, was she tight!” Paul told us. “I had to wait for her to dilate 
before I could even get it in all the way. But once we got going—! Well, 
just look. Who’s fucking who?—you be the judge.”

It was true she had a very masculine thrust to her hips, and it looked 
like Paul was just lying there while she slid up and down his pole. Lucy 
was a real wildcat, no doubt about it.

Just before they came, Rosemary got up on the divan above Paul’s head and
dangled those huge white tits in his face, slapping them back and forth 
against his cheeks. He caught one nipple in his teeth, sucked as much of 
her tit into his mouth as he could, and pumped his come into Lucy’s belly.

Lucy’s eyes closed and her mouth opened and she came forward as if 
someone had clubbed her from behind. With her cheek on Paul’s chest and her
nails dug into his ribs, she went into her orgasm, her pelvis jerking 
convulsively and the white cheeks of her plump behind opening and closing 
with a jarring jiggle each time they came together. She was still going 
strong when the reel ended.

Before I get back to Jimmy on the beach, let me tell you what John was up
to about this time.

John’s interests included rodeos and stock car racing and such as that, 
and he knew there was a lot of pussy in the little town of Gladesville, a 
few miles beyond the Sago Beach Speedway. But after cruising the roads in 
his pickup truck for an hour or so and getting nothing but suspicious looks
from the fruit packers and porch rockers, he began to wish he hadn’t wasted
the gas. If there was cunt around, it wasn’t showing, so he pulled onto the
blacktop and peeled off for the city.

But between Gladesville and the Speedway, he saw something that made him 
slow down. Three girls on horseback were trotting along the shoulder toward
him. They were high school age, about seventeen. The one on the horse 
nearest the road gave John an instantaneous hard-on; her long dark brown 
hair was braided into a pigtail, and her sweet dimpled face, innocent but 
sexy at the same time, presented an almost brazen contrast to the fluid 
bounce of her fully matured titties. She wore tight jeans and a dirty white
T-shirt, which was stretched tightly from nipple to nipple. She wore a bra,
but it was a flimsy one without wires. John winked at her as he crept past,
and she smiled back. The others waved at him and giggled to each other. 
John noticed that the second girl, dressed like the first, had a dirty 
hand-print over her left tit; her tits were nice too, but more tightly 
harnessed and more pointed than the first girl’s. The third chick had long 
tangled hair, bleached almost silver. Her jeans were cut off just below the
crotch to make a pair of short shorts, and instead of a T-shirt she wore a 
long-sleeved man’s shirt with the sleeves rolled up and the front gathered 
up from her suntanned midriff and tied in a knot just below her small 
breasts. Above this it was unbuttoned, and the white fabric of her bra 
flashed in the sun at the bottom of the deep V of the open collar. Each of 
them carried a rolled-up towel.

“By God,” thought John, “they’re going swimming in one of the shell pits,
bigger than shit!”

John has fished in this area many times before, and he knows the sandy 
roads that wind through woods out there like the back of his hand. So when 
he saw the horses through the rear-view mirror turning north into the 
woods, he knew where they were probably headed. If he was right, it would 
be a perfect spot to film them on the sly, but he would have to get there 
before they arrived.

He whipped into the next sand track and roared back through the pines. 
The trail wound around between the scattered ponds and came out on the 
shell road that the girls had turned off on. This road curved to the west 
between there and the highway, so the girls didn’t see John’s truck cross 
to the other side and re-enter the woods. He turned off short of where he 
thought they were going—a large clear shell pit on the edge of a sawgrass 
marsh —and hid the truck behind a cypress hammock. He strapped on his 
camera and his film bag and ran around to the far side of the pit to a duck
blind made of palmetto fans. Here he set up the tripod and aimed the camera
through a small hole in the blind. He had a clear view up the trail and was
only about two hundred feet from a small beach where people sometimes came 
to swim or make love. In the past John had knocked off a few pieces of tail
here himself.

In a few minutes here they came, stepping their horses along the trail. 
John locked in on them and started shooting. The big-bosomed gal with the 
pigtail was whispering something to the blonde who rode beside her. After 
they dismounted and tethered their horses to a tree, they came straight 
down to the little beach. John could hear their conversation…

The blonde called back to the brunette: “Hey Sue, Joanne says you’re a 
virgin,”

“She’s full o’ shit, too!” answered Sue, coming down to the beach and 
spreading her horse blanket on the sand. “Joanne thinks everybody that 
don’t fuck like a rabbit like she does is a virgin.”

“I do not fuck like a rabbit,” says Joanne, pulling off her dirty 
T-shirt. Ooh, Mother, were her tits nice! She wore a little threadbare 
strapless bra that she had evidently remodeled: She had pulled the bones 
out of it and trimmed off the top half of the cups, so that they just 
reached the cute little knobs of her nipples. No wonder her tits flopped so
freely out on the highway.

“That ain’t what Tommy and Mike say,” said Sue with a giggle. They argued
about sex and virginity and who had fucked whom and so forth while they 
spread their blankets. Then Joanne unzipped her jeans and began to shake 
her tits back and forth in a little dance while she sang a country blues 
song. She was obviously proud of her big tits and was showing off to make 
the other girls envious.

Then Nancy, the slim blonde, stood up and untied the front of her shirt, 
looking back up the trail. “Hey, what if them niggers come back fishin’?” 
she said.

“Fuck ‘em,” said Joanne, stepping out of her jeans.

“They’ll fuck us, is what’ll happen,” answered Sue.

“Mm, that’ll be okay,” said Joanne, rolling her eyes. They all went into 
peals of laughter over that, as they stripped to their underwear, and waded
into the water.

But before she got her crotch wet, Joanne turned around and went back to 
the beach, saying, “Shit, let’s swim jaybird. I don’t want to ride home 
with a wet ass again.”

“What if somebody comes, Joanne?” says Nancy.

“So what? Come on.”

They finally agreed and returned to the shore to take off their 
underwear. We saw then, that Sue’s tits really were pointed, even without 
the bra. And so were Nancy’s, though smaller and firmer. Surprisingly 
though, Nancy had more pussy hair than the two larger girls put together, 
and the camera also caught a rather heavy growth of golden down on her 
unshaved legs. Sue had a small triangle of rather thin brown ringlets, 
growing denser at the top of her slit. Joanne’s bush—though somewhat 
thicker than Sue’s—lacked the mature look I had expected from the size and 
shape of her tits. But Nancy’s! Wow, what a bed of moss she had! It 
actually started at her belly button—a thin line of golden hair running 
down her flat stomach and widening out just below her bikini tan-line, 
until by the time it reached the hump of her cunt it looked like a meadow 
of wheat. It really had no definite boundary to it, like the other 
girls’—it just seemed to thin out over her belly and thighs. At the lips of
her cunt it was a tangled mat of buff-colored fuzz growing out of the slit 
like ferns in a pot.

“Jesus,” said Paul, as Nancy faced the camera and glanced quickly down at
her naked body—self-consciously perhaps. “Look at the bush on that blonde!”
Peggy, on the chair beside us, giggled in her vodka. I was sitting on the 
floor below the projector, and Paul sat behind me with his legs stretched 
out on either side of my ass. As the naked girls waded into the water, 
clutching their little twats when the cold water touched them, Paul’s hands
slipped under my thighs and inside my miniskirt. We had not undressed to 
watch the films, because we didn’t want the sex to start till after we’d 
seen all the reels. But I could see it was going to be hard to wait. I 
couldn’t resist opening my legs as his fingers crept up toward my crotch 
and began stroking my hairs. But when I felt him pulling my cunt lips apart
and searching for my clit with his finger, I forced myself to close my 
thighs and push his hands away.

“Now, stop it, Paul,” I said, “or I’ll put my pants on.”

“Yeah,” said John. “Watch my movie, goddamn it! The good part’s coming 
up. Plenty of time for that shit later.”

So Paul held off—except for squeezing my tits every so often—and we all 
concentrated on John’s fuck movie. All the while Paul’s dick kept poking 
and jabbing me in the small of the back, but I tried to ignore it.

While the three girls were splashing and pinching each other in the 
crystal-clear water, John’s first reel came to an end. He quietly snapped 
in another cartridge, aimed the camera at the horse blankets on the beach 
and adjusted the field of vision. Then he looked at his watch, locked the 
trigger to “on,” and stepped from behind the duck blind…

CHAPTER FOUR

It was about eleven when Jimmy walked quietly up to the two sunbathers on
the beach. When he reached the dune which separated him from the girls, he 
peeled off his bathing suit and buried it in the sand. Then he crept to the
blanket and carefully picked up the two discarded bikini tops, and buried 
them beside his own suit, marking the spot with a clump of seaweed. He 
wanted to get the blonde’s G-string, but it was still under her butt. We 
laughed like hell to see him tiptoeing back and forth from the blanket to 
the cache, his dick stiff as a stick and flashing in the sun like a peeled 
banana.

Now Jimmy dropped carefully to his knees and lay down on his stomach 
between the two blindfolded girls. So far they had not heard him. After a 
moment he reached down and gingerly untied the bow at Maryann’s hip, 
folding back the bikini and exposing most of her curly brown bush. She 
stirred and he jerked his hand away.

“June, what are you doing?” she said, not taking the towel from her eyes.
The blonde must have thought her girl friend had just noticed that she’d 
removed her G-string; she also spoke without removing her towel.

“I told you I like an even tan, Maryann—from head to toe.”

“Well, okay,” answered Maryann, thinking June had untied her suit, “if 
you say so.” She released the other ribbon, dragged the garment from her 
crotch, and tossed it aside. Jimmy immediately grabbed it and flung it out 
of sight behind the sand dune. It was beginning to look like a game of 
pickup sticks.

Jimmy had to be bold now; time was running out. He turned toward June and
began lightly stroking her gleaming bronze belly with his fingertips, 
trying to keep from breathing hard at the sight of that lithe beauty with 
the taut cone-shaped breasts and the ash blonde double hedgerow between her
legs. He worked around and around her navel and up her ribs, and we saw her
smile.

“Mmm,” she said in a low voice, “feels good.”

Maryann didn’t answer nor uncover her face, and Jimmy, scarcely daring to
breathe, slid his hand up over the shallow cone of one of her oiled tits. 
While he daringly stroked her bosom with his left hand, his right crept 
down her bare hip and began massaging her thighs…

She said “Mm” in her throat, and then “Oh!” as his fingers slipped. down 
between her legs, just brushing the tufts of golden fuzz that sprouted from
the middle region of her slit.

“I was goddamn near on fire,” Jimmy told us, “I didn’t give a fuck 
anymore whether I gave myself away too quick or not. Watch now, I’m about 
to start finger-fuckin’ her—” As soon as he touched her cunt, she spread 
her legs and a ripple ran up her slim torso. As he stroked her crotch, 
clearing the hair away from her moist cunt lips, he lowered his mouth to 
her right nipple, touching its varnished knob with his tongue. The narrow 
ridge of her pussy lifted in ecstasy to the touch of the finger at its 
puckering mouth, and she said, “Oh, Maryann!” in a breathless whisper. 
“What are you doing, honey?”

With that Jimmy let out a groan and sunk his middle finger deep into her 
crack, jerking the towel from her face and covering her mouth with his 
before she could scream. Still clutching her golden mound, his finger 
probing and stirring her warm juices, he rolled on top of her, pinning her 
slim body beneath his muscular chest.

Finally the sound of her fists drumming frantically on Jimmy’s broad back
and the guttural cries in her throat snapped Maryann’s sun trance. She sat 
up in alarm, her mouth dropping open at the sight of the naked man 
assaulting her girl friend.

“Stop it! Stop it!” she screamed. “Help! Somebody, help!” She began 
beating Jimmy on the back with her straw bag, apparently forgetting her 
nakedness. But Jimmy says he didn’t feel a thing, except that luscious, 
slippery body squirming beneath him.

In a moment her struggles noticeably decreased in intensity, the blows 
fell less often, and with less force. “First she bit the hell out of my 
lips, trying to get free, but then I felt her jaws relax. She didn’t bite 
my tongue when I stuck it in her mouth and ran it around her cheeks. I 
brought my finger out of her hole and started rubbing her clit, around and 
around, like you like it, Tits. I figured that would do the trick, and it 
did. See… see her dig her claws into my back. Hee, hee! Looks bloody as 
hell on the screen, but at the time it felt like a caress, and that’s what 
is was, really. See her hips starting to jerk? I was driving her crazy with
my finger! Right there she stuck her tongue in my mouth, tried to poke it 
down my throat, so help me God! Hee, hee! That other cunt’s beatin’ the 
shit out of me. I didn’t even feel it—” But when Maryann saw what was 
happening, she held off. She stopped yelling and just stood there, staring 
down at the writhing couple on the blanket. Suddenly discovering her 
bathing suit was gone, she snatched up her towel and wrapped it around her 
tits, but it was not quite wide enough to cover her cunt. Maybe she began 
to think this was one of June’s boyfriends; whoever it was, it was obvious 
her copper-skinned friend was in no pain. After a few moments the 
full-bodied brunette lay down again and ceased to interfere. She propped 
herself up on one elbow and watched this frantic, panting, gasping foreplay
with obvious anticipation.

Jimmy took his lips from June’s and stroked her eyelids with his free 
hand. He put out his tongue, and hers came out to meet it in a passionate 
caress. She was through struggling. When Jimmy lifted his pelvis and 
centered it over hers, she spread her long gleaming legs to admit him. He 
removed his finger from her now juicy rut and guided his throbbing cock 
between the silky petals of her cunt.

As he began to pump her, she let out a little cry of intense pleasure, 
and her hips responded to his thrusts, lifting almost completely off the 
blanket sometimes, as though she was trying to suck him into her womb, 
swallow him up, prick first. He lowered his mouth to her breasts and began 
biting and sucking the jutting nipples, and his saliva flowed over them and
mingled with the oil.

I reached up and put my hand on my sister’s bare thigh, which was exposed
up to the hip by her miniskirt. Her flesh was warm—or was it my palm? I 
whispered to her in the half-dark: “Look, Peg, she’s starting to come!” 
Peggy leaned forward in the armchair and uncrossed her legs, parting them 
to let my hand slide up her inner thigh. My fingers touched the damp crotch
of her panties. “I know,” she breathed.

“Hey, cut it out, Nadine,” said Paul, pulling my hand from Peggy’s leg. 
“You’re taking advantage.”

“Yeah, Tits,” says Jimmy. “Cut it out now! No fair fingering the judge.”

“She wasn’t!” giggled Peggy, crossing her legs again.

“Alright, now shut up, goddamn it, and watch the picture. Look now, 
June’s gettin’ her flowers. Now, you’ll see me hunchin’ like hell in a 
minute, but I faked it. Hee hee! I knew damn well I didn’t have time to 
build up to another orgasm. I mean, I’m virile, but not that virile. But I 
wanted to have a try at the big titted one, so I held back. It wasn’t easy,
believe me. That’s a fine piece of ass there.”

Just before the blonde came, Jimmy looked over at Maryann from between 
his partner’s firm little breasts, and reached out for the hand that held 
the towel together at her side, but he could not quite reach it. His 
outstretched hand and his half-closed eyes pleaded with her. She hesitated…
then shifted her body closer to the coupled pair, a slight smile curling 
her full red lips. As Jimmy pretended to shoot his semen into June’s belly,
he snatched the towel away from Maryann’s grasp and held it. The brunette 
made a pretense of tugging it back, but otherwise made no attempt to cover 
her nakedness. Her big tits jumped and bounced temptingly as she pulled at 
the towel, but Jimmy buried his face in June’s neck and rode out her 
violent orgasm, giving her spasm for spasm—very convincingly. Myself, I can
always tell when a man fakes it; I have a very sensitive love-hole, and I 
can feel every jet and drip that comes into it—and I know when it doesn’t 
come. How about you, Mother? Can you feel it when the man comes? Or are you
numb inside?

But anyway, the blonde nymph seemed convinced, or at least satisfied. 
When Jimmy finished his shooting act, he turned his attentions to the soft 
white Maryann—with about fifteen minutes left on the reel.

With one hand still caressing June’s bosom, Paul pulled Maryann close and
fell on one of her rose-tipped jugs with open mouth, dropping his hand to 
her flaring hip and clutching one big round cheek of her milk-white ass, 
working his fingers into the close warm crack. She didn’t fight, but she 
didn’t respond either until he lifted his face from her tits and ran his 
tongue deep into her mouth. Then she let the towel go and wrapped her arms 
around Jimmy’s neck, twining her fingers through his long brown hair and 
catching one of his sun-browned legs between her pale thighs.

Now Jimmy rolled over atop the brunette, but as he did so he pulled June 
over so that the two girl’s bodies were pressed together. He took a soft 
white tit in one hand and small hard brown one in the other and started 
jabbing at Maryann’s bushy crack with his cock. June slithered out of his 
grip saying, “Let me put it in for you.”

“Ooo!” Peggy moaned and hugged herself with delight as she watched the 
blonde lie down with her head between Maryann’s and Jimmy’s legs and insert
his great redheaded penis into the plump lips of her girlfriend’s tight 
young hole. Peggy leaned down and whispered in my ear, “Will you do that 
for me sometime, Nadine?—put a dick in me like that? Oh, that gets me so 
hot, watching something like that!”

“Sure I will, honey,” I whispered back, swabbing out her ear with my 
tongue. “Maybe tonight.”

Maryann’s body rippled and jiggled all over before Jimmy’s onslaught, 
their bellies slapping and slurping together, so violently that you could 
almost see the noise, while June curled and uncurled her body at their 
feet, her hand between her legs and her face just inches from their coupled
genitals, watching Jimmy’s long cream-covered shaft sliding in and out of 
Maryann’s frothing cunt.

As soon as Jimmy and Maryann started to come, June burrowed deep between 
the heavy white thighs and the hairy muscular ones, touching the violently 
spurting organs with her tongue.

“I’ll swear she was sucking up whatever was dripping out of Maryann’s 
cunt—you could hear it: slurp, slurp, slurp. I’ll tell you what it sounded 
like! —like when you’re sucking the last little bit of a milkshake through 
a straw, you know? And Jesus, did the big one love it! See her start 
thrashing up and down again? She had one good run, and then June’s lips on 
her boobs must have started her in all over again. Goddamn, what a pair 
they were!”

What Jimmy didn’t know till he saw the movie, was that June also had 
another orgasm at this time. She had been masturbating while she watched, 
and as soon as her mouth touched that fuck-foam at the center of the 
action, her strong belly contracted and she doubled up in what appeared to 
be an even stronger release than her first —it made a very good film 
sequence, all three of them going off together like that.

When they had caught their breath a bit, June sat up to ask her companion
who this man was. “I don’t know,” panted Rosemary, “Isn’t he a friend of 
yours?” But before they could pursue this line of thought very far, Jimmy 
pointed up the bluff to a gleam of light among the seagrapes. They stared 
blankly for a minute—then their mouths dropped open.

“Smile,” he said. “You’re on Candid Camera!”

Jimmy had to grab his camera and run for it in the end, but he escaped 
without harm, laughing all the way. He figured that would be all he could 
do on this stretch of beach, so he headed back south toward the pavilions, 
but as he passed in front of the last cottage he saw something which 
stopped him in his tracks. Out of the surf came two laughing young women, 
so nearly naked and with such fantastic bodies, that he could do nothing 
but stand there and stare. His cock, so recently spent, immediately stirred
in his briefs. “It was limp as a fish one minute,” he said, “and hard as a 
rock the next.”

It wasn’t that their bikinis were any smaller than those that June and 
Maryann had on, it was just that these gals had more packed into them. The 
redhead had a body very much like my own, except that I’m a little taller, 
I believe: A buxom body, big round tits and well-fleshed hips made all the 
more startling by a trim, almost narrow, waist. As she came splashing up 
toward Jimmy through the foaming up wash, (they re-enacted this delightful 
run for the camera) the tone and texture of her body was revealed as 
vividly to us as if we had touched it. Her delicious tits, bared to the 
very edges of her nipples by the tiny pink cups of her bikini top, rose and
fell like great globes of firm, pink custard, and her long red mane 
fluttered wild in the sea wind. She was about twenty-five years old.

The other girl was younger, looked about nineteen or twenty, had short 
blonde hair, and a shape like you might have expected to see at a strip 
show, but which was downright startling seen in broad daylight—weird is the
best word for it. She was taller than the redhead, but much slimmer; her 
hips were almost boyish and her legs, though not bad, could have used a 
little more flesh in the calves. Everything about her, including her rather
longish, delicately drawn face, was lithe, narrow, firm and 
athletic—everything except her chest. Her tits were absolutely huge! Jimmy 
found out later they were 41-D’s. Yet she had a strange quality of vibrant 
youth and beauty that kept her from looking freakish.

It was not surprising that her tits were popping out of her bikini: she 
couldn’t possibly have found one that would fit both her bust and her hips,
and she had obviously bought for the latter—and let the tits fall where 
they may, so to speak. The bra was made of two triangles of what looked 
like thin white duck, which contrasted strikingly with her golden tan. At 
the points of each triangle were little brass grommets, and through these 
were looped the black cords that held the garment together—one around her 
back, one around her neck, and one tied in a bow between her breasts. So 
far so good. The only trouble was that her football-shaped boobs were so 
huge that these normal-sized breast cups covered them not much better than 
a pair of pasties. There was bulging golden flesh on all sides, including 
the bottoms, so that the crease of her overhang was completely exposed, and
as she ran those giant melons bounced up and down with such massive and 
jarring force that the patches of canvas shifted all around their 
bomb-nosed summits. I don’t mean to give the impression her tits were 
floppy or droopy—that was the really startling thing about them. They 
should have sagged something terrible, but they didn’t. They were solid and
self-supporting, not an inch of slack flesh anywhere. I couldn’t wait to 
see her nipples; I knew they’d be big.

Do you enjoy seeing naked women, Mother? I do, I admit it. I’d be a 
full-time Lesbian, if I didn’t love cock so much. Ha ha!

Anyway, they came bouncing and laughing right up to Jimmy, who was 
standing there with his eyeballs hanging out and his prick making a 
conspicuous bulge at the crotch of his tight suit. They asked him what the 
equipment was for, and he stammered out an explanation while they examined 
his camera.

“What are you doing,” asked the chesty blonde, “looking for girls to 
film?” When Jimmy said that was exactly what he was doing, she put her arms
over her head, cocked one bare hip, and said, “What about us?” How lucky 
can you get?

Well, the first thing he asked them to do, like I mentioned before, was 
to go back down to the water and run back toward him, like they had just 
done. They were happy to comply, and you could tell they were seeing just 
how violently they could make their tits bounce as they ran past him toward
the cottage. He swung around and took some footage of their swiveling 
buttocks, and as they ran on up the beach, both of them pushed their 
bikinis down in back to show their cracks, laughing all the way. They had 
been drinking, that was obvious, and it made the situation perfect for 
Jimmy. They waved him up. “Come on! Have a drink with us,” they called, 
climbing the wooden steps to the patio behind the cottage. Jimmy was 
already halfway there. But just as he mounted the steps, his eyes riveted 
on those nearly-naked butts wiggling before him, a big hairy man with a 
thick tawny beard stepped out of the cottage.

The redhead stopped in the middle of the patio. She looked back at Jimmy,
smiling, and while she pointed at the bearded man with an unsteady finger, 
her other hand went to her back and released the bow of her bra string.

“My husband,” she said…

It was noon now. John was sitting on the horse blanket at the edge of the
rock pit, trying to coax the three naked, squealing teenagers out of the 
water—without success. An entire film cartridge was wasted. “Bait.” John 
said to himself. “I need some bait.”

“Be right back, girls,” he called to them, jumping up and running off 
toward where he had hidden the truck. But at the edge of the woods he 
turned around and came back to the blanket to scoop up their clothes. “Just
so you won’t leave before I get back,” he said and ran off cackling into 
the trees.

Paul, meanwhile, had enjoyed a relaxing lunch of potato salad and beer 
with Rosemary and Lucy, left them well-fucked and purring, and was at this 
time sitting in his car at Palm Pond Park with his prick in his hand, 
watching two little girls (one was twelve, the other thirteen) playing on 
the monkey bars. Paul has a weakness for very young girls, have I mentioned
that, Mother? He’s a lot like Uncle Harry in that respect. I was only 
eleven and hadn’t even started to menstruate when Uncle Harry first fucked 
me. You were very dumb then, Mother; you thought we only did it that once, 
didn’t you?—that time you caught us and kicked Uncle Harry out. The truth 
is that he sneaked up to my bedroom almost every night the whole time he 
stayed with us. So my cherry was long gone by the time you got hip to the 
happenings, Mom.

But anyway, Jimmy was the only one that was into any real action at 
midday. He froze for a moment at the top of the steps, glancing nervously 
from the bearded man in the leopard-skin jock strap to his red-haired wife,
who was standing there with her hands on her bare sunburned hips and her 
little silk half-bra hanging loosely over her big round tits by the 
shoulder straps alone. Jimmy was wondering whether or not to run for it, 
when the big man says, “Well, what have we here, a one-man movie company? 
Step right up, lad! Welcome to the party!”

So they all sat around an umbrella table, and drinks were served by a 
little sandy-haired boy about five or six years old. The man introduced 
himself as Drake Hackett and the redhead—who kept readjusting the 
unfastened pouches of her bra on her buxom breasts—as his wife Yvonne.*

[*I was particularly delighted by this passage of Nadine’s letter, 
because Drake Hackett happens to be an old friend of mine, presently 
residing at Barbados in the West Indies, as those who have read The Orgies 
of Stone’s Island will remember. Having an intimate knowledge of the 
Hacketts’ manner of living, I can personally vouch for the credibility of 
this account. The blonde was called Honey, a prostitute who was staying 
with them, and the little boy was Drake’s and Yvonne’s son Billy. Hackett’s
friendly and boisterous manner—together with the super-dry martinis—soon 
put Jimmy quite at ease, and he told them the whole story of the contest 
and what he had just done up the beach.]

“Ho, Ho! Y’hear that, Billy?” roared Hackett, “Candid Camera! Oh, that’s 
good! That’s good! Hey, maybe I’ll go up there and fuck ‘em m’self, eh?”

“I think they left,” Jimmy told him. “But they’ll be back.”

Drake downed his martini, slapped his big hand down on the table, and 
said, “Okay. Let’s get started. We got plenty of light, and plenty of 
pussy, eh, girls?” They giggled. “Ha ha! If you don’t win the contest, kid,
I’ll kiss your ass. Gimme the camera, I’m an old hand.”

He was too; he had a steady grip and a good eye for the pornographic 
shot, the breathtaking angle. Yvonne sent Billy into the cottage for a 
large quilt which Honey spread out in the center of the patio. We had a 
blowup of Honey’s huge gold tits swinging freely from side to side as she 
spread the quilt, and then the camera swept around full circle and zoomed 
in on four young girls and a boy splashing in the surf before the cottage. 
They were watching the proceedings on the patio, and when they saw the 
camera trained on them, they squealed and dived into the water.

“Hey, we got an audience!” said Hackett. “Move over this way so they can 
watch.” So the pallet was dragged over to the east edge of the terrace, and
Yvonne stepped lazily into the field of view.

She pulled her bra tightly over her tits and pinned the dangling side 
strings under her arms. The pink silk of the tiny cups was so thin it was 
almost translucent, and it was stretched over her stiff nipples like a coat
of paint—their outer and inner circles were perfectly outlined. Then she 
inclined her head forward and said, “Hey, Jimmy, untie me, will you, baby?”
and Drake said, “Go on, kid! She’s all yours.”

So Jimmy stepped up behind Yvonne and pulled the string at the nape of 
her neck. Down fell the straps and now only the pressure of her arms 
against her side held the bra up; the tops of her bright rose-colored 
nipples peeked over the silk folds. Jimmy put his hands on her hips and 
pulled her against his out-thrust pelvis, wiggling the stiff arch of his 
cock into the deep crack of her broad soft ass. Then he slid his hands up 
her graceful waist and cupped her elbows, lifting them from her sides. The 
bra fell from her bosom with an iridescent shimmer and fluttered away on 
the wind, showing us for the first time the full naked glory of her 
breasts.

They were so white below the nipples, that they were almost blinding in 
the bright sun. It was obvious that a few weeks ago her whole body had been
that white; this was, in fact, her first trip to the South. Her skin 
wouldn’t blister, but you couldn’t say she was tanned either; her color was
somewhere between a sort of rich red-gold and soft pink. So the places that
had been protected by her bikini, small though they were, struck the eye 
like white spot lights.

When the girls down on the beach shrieked and giggled at this sudden 
exposure, Yvonne laughed and waved at them, causing her tits to swing 
violently back and forth, until Jimmy caught them in his hands from behind 
and pressed them together. She purred at the feel of his fingers kneading 
her firm flesh, pinching and stretching her big rosy nipples, and she 
twisted in his arms until their open mouths met in a wet throat-probing 
kiss. As their mouths ground together, Jimmy’s hands worked down her back 
and into the rolled-down hipband of her bikini bottom, moving outward from 
her half-exposed crack until they reached the little bows at her hips which
held the garment together. A flick of the wrists and she was naked.

Drake now moved the camera around to the center of the patio, so that we 
saw Yvonne and Jimmy in profile as they embraced; in the foreground and to 
one side, Honey’s enormous nearly-naked jugs jutting into the field of 
view; and in the background at the edge of the blue-green sea were the 
staring faces of the gathering crowd of youngsters. It was really a great 
shot—you didn’t know which level to concentrate on.

As Yvonne clawed passionately at Jimmy’s small strong buttocks, 
frantically dragging his tight suit down his hips, Honey was tracing the 
lines of her tits with her forefingers; down around the exposed creases of 
their overhangs, up along the deep bronze cleft between them, down their 
upper swells, which began just below her collarbone, and out onto their 
parabolic tips, where she drew circles around the nipples. Then her slim 
fingers went to the bow at the center of her chest, taking hold of the 
loose strings…

I forced my eyes from those great swelling things, about to be revealed 
in full, to watch the obscene movements of the couple in the center of the 
screen. Yvonne had Jimmy’s suit down to his thighs, and he released her for
a moment to pull it off while she turned her hips toward the camera to show
her cunt, spreading her legs and fluffing up her thick red bush with her 
fingers. The sun sparkled on the beads of moisture that lined the lips of 
her pussy, pale white beneath their cover of flaming fuzz. Turning slightly
toward Jimmy and smiling down at his hairy brown belly, she took his long 
thick cock in one hand and pulled its head into her love nest, making it 
nuzzle the top of her slit, and throwing her head back in laughing ecstasy.

They faced each other again now, and for a few moments they did not touch
except at the crotch. She would shake her tits and thrust her cunt out at 
him and he would thrust back with his dripping bludgeon in a lewd dance of 
lust, while the kids below gaped in amazed excitement. But then the dance 
got serious.

Yvonne opened her legs wide and Jimmy gripped her hips firmly in his 
strong hands, bringing his pelvis between her thighs until his dick was 
pointed up into her hairy hole.

At this point the white canvas triangles fell away from Honey’s 
supertits. We got a brief close-up of them; the creamy gold skin was 
stretched so taut over those over-inflated jugs that her big pink 
nipples—they were at least three inches in diameter— did not break the 
bullet-nose contours at all. Even her knobs were wider than they were long,
sticking out only about an eighth of an inch; you got the feeling that if 
you could let a little air out of her tits, the nipples would pop out like 
turrets. A brief look, as I say, and then they disappeared from the 
picture, reappearing a moment later behind Yvonne. The two girls’ bodies, 
both so mouthwatering and yet so different, offered stunning profiles 
against the vast blue backdrop of the Atlantic. Honey had joined Jimmy and 
Yvonne to steady them. Because you know, Mother, it is almost impossible to
fuck standing up without some kind of support. Have you ever tried it? I’ve
done it a few times by leaning back against a wall, but it’s an awkward 
position, and both partners have to have strong leg muscles to really enjoy
it. Honey knew this, and she let Yvonne lean back against her massive chest
cushions as Jimmy inserted his cock into the red-haired cunt and slowly 
shoved it in… and out… in… out, in, out, in, out, in, out…

But Yvonne did not intend to let things come to a head so quickly, and 
after a few dozen strokes, she lifted her bubbling box off Jimmy’s penis 
and sank to her knees before him on the quilt. I noticed some of the girls 
on the beach making gagging gestures as Yvonne wrapped her lips around the 
head of Jimmy’s gleaming cock, dripping with the hot juice from her cunt. 
Jimmy hunched down and began to pump it in her mouth as he had in her slit;
he held her head in his hands and she held the cheeks of his thrusting ass 
in hers, and they went into a deadly serious blowjob that was obviously 
going to the end.

Meanwhile, Honey turned toward the camera and untied her G-string. There 
was a fast zoom-in on her cunt, and here we stopped the projector for a 
closer examination. We could have counted the hairs if we’d wanted to, 
because Honey’s box now filled practically the entire nine-foot screen. If 
it had been real it would have eaten us alive. Peggy said, “Look at the way
her bush is shaped—like two hearts.”

John was now sitting on the arm of her chair. He reached down and lifted 
the hem of her dress, and said, “Let’s compare.”

She playfully slapped his hand away and tucked her skirt between her 
lovely thighs. “Help, Nadine,” she said.

I said, “Later, Johnny, later—Jesus, look at that hairy thing!” Honey’s 
blonde bush wasn’t as dense as the red one, but it covered a wider area. 
The upper “heart,” as Sis called it, was a widening of a line of soft 
golden hair that grew down her flat belly from the navel; it spread out in 
double petals of blonde curls halfway between navel and crotch. The deep 
cleft of her ridge-backed mound began at the point of this upper heart, and
from here the lower one flared out in waves of yellow shag, extending 
beyond the hump of her cunt and well into her crotch line, gradually fading
on her upper thighs in a scattering of golden down. Her pubic hair was less
curly than most, and where it grew thickest, along the out-thrust lips, it 
was almost straight, so that it hung down at the bottom like a goatee.

When we started the film again, there was a sudden change of camera 
angle, and Hackett walked into view—now minus his leopard skin jockstrap. 
Feeling the need to get into the act himself, he had quickly erected the 
tripod and set the camera on automatic.

Honey was now crouching behind Jimmy, holding a gigantic football-shaped 
tit in both hands and trying to stick the nipple into his lurching asshole.
When Drake stepped to the quilt and lay down on his back beside his wife, 
Honey stood up and straddled him, poking at his huge twitching prick with 
her toe. He held his hands up to her, and she slowly squatted over his hips
until the head of his cock nuzzled into that tawny beard. She settled to 
her knees, bending forward and reaching between her legs to guide Drake’s 
member into her cunt. As she did this, she swung those gargantuan melons 
back and forth several times across his face, and he covered the huge 
nipples with saliva until they sparkled in the sunlight. She kept her torso
upright and her arms over her head as they fucked, and you’ve never seen 
anything like the way those unbelievable breasts of hers leapt and jumped! 
They did every trick in the book, including the nipple-twirl! I’ll swear, I
don’t see how she carries those things around all day. (Of course, she does
most of her work on her back.) Before any climaxes were reached, who should
skip into the scene but the little boy, Billy. “Oh, shit,” I thought, “the 
kid’s gonna fuck it up.” But I was wrong. This was quite a family Jimmy 
stumbled upon. Why was our family never like this, Mama? Ha! I can see it 
now. Anyhow, the kid scoots in between his mother’s legs as she was sucking
Jimmy off, and starts eating her box! It’s the truth, so help me.

He was still upside-down under there, lapping away as if that frothing 
cunt was a hot fudge sundae, and apparently doing a good job from the way 
Yvonne’s stomach muscles began to contract and quiver, when Jimmy’s prick 
went off like a cannon. The first jet knocked her O-shaped lips clear off 
the lead, but she kept her mouth open and the second burst splashed against
her tongue, and then she was clamped on the nozzle again, gulping it down 
as fast as he could squirt it out. He was still coming when she went into 
her own orgasm on her son’s tongue, and when she finished the kid came out 
covered from ear to ear with milky foam.

Drake and Honey came at the same time. The girl’s whole body jerked 
forward and went into trembling spasms of pleasure, tits crashing up and 
down with bone-breaking violence, as volley after volley of Drake’s semen 
rushed into her belly.

By this time there must have been a couple of dozen onlookers down at the
beach. A couple of them had binoculars.

CHAPTER FIVE

John was sitting on the horse blanket beside Joanne, entwining her dark 
hair with a chain of purple and white periwinkle flowers. Both were naked. 
Sue and Nancy were still in the water, whispering and tittering in each 
other’s ear. John had driven his truck from behind the hammock and pulled 
up beside the shell pit. He took the ice chest full of beer out of the back
and carried it down to the beach. This was the bait he mentioned. It took a
little time, but it worked—at least on Joanne, who wanted to impress her 
more bashful girlfriends, I think. Actually they weren’t all that bashful, 
and, like most farm girls, sex was nothing new to them.

I suppose they just wanted to make sure John didn’t intend to hurt them. 
At any rate, after a lot of coaxing and sweet talk on John’s part, Joanne 
finally waded boldly out of the water and sat down beside him, immediately 
guzzling a good quantity from the can of beer he had opened for her. To 
gain their confidence, he didn’t lay a hand on her at first, but got up and
started gathering flowers, wandering casually back around the pit to the 
duck blind. When he was out of sight, he removed the wasted cartridge from 
the camera and plugged in a new one, once more starting the motor. So the 
first scene of this reel showed the buxom teenager sitting naked on the 
blanket, alone, the brilliant overhead sun giving her wet body a shadowy 
brilliance, strikingly punctuated by the dark patch of dripping hair 
between her legs.

John returned to the blanket, faced the camera and casually stepped out 
of his Levi’s. He said that when Sue saw his stiff prick spring into view, 
she said, “Oh, God,” and turned around in the water, giggling into her 
hand, but Nancy, the blonde, kept looking.

As John sat down beside Joanne, who glanced casually at his nakedness, as
if it neither aroused nor frightened her, he said, “Better get outta the 
water, girls, you’re gonna catch cold.” But they just splashed around, 
pretending to ignore him. “But I noticed that both of them, especially the 
blonde, kept bouncing up and down in the water,” he told us, “so I could 
see their tits.”

Joanne said, “They’re mad mostly ‘cause you spied on us before.”

“Are you?” asked John, unplaiting her long wet pigtail.

She looked over her shoulder at him with a sly grin. “I’m used to it,” 
she said. “Almost every night my little brother brings all his friends to 
my bedroom window to watch me undress.”

“No shit?” says John, “You like that?”

“I don’t mind,” she says with a toss of her head.

This sort of talk went on until John finished weaving the wreath of 
periwinkles into her hair, but we saw Joanne’s lips quiver a little and 
close in silence when he began inserting the tiny blossoms into her bush. 
She blushed but didn’t stop him We could see by the way her tits were 
rising and falling that she was breathing faster now.

He made a flowery arch across the top of her maidenhair, leaning forward 
until his face was only inches from her snatch. “I like to get close to my 
work,” he told her, gently and gradually spreading her thighs. She leaned 
back on her hands and watched him as he made a line of yellow wild flowers 
down each side of her mound, and felt his hot breath on her secret flesh. 
Her lips parted and her eyes appeared to glaze over as his fingers began to
stroke the brown fur, now almost dry, along her tight tender lips. Her bent
knees dropped further and further apart, until the gates to her sugar bowl 
were wide open and trembling.

John, now concentrating on closing in on Joanne’s pussy, lost track of 
what the two in the water were doing, and of course they were out of the 
camera’s view, but as John and Joanne’s play began to get serious, they 
made their appearance on the screen, tittering and pointing at the nude 
couple. They didn’t try to get their clothes from the truck, but went up 
and got another blanket from one of the horses and spread it out beside the
other one.

Sue got some flowers and began to mimic John by making sarcastic cooing 
noises as she stuck the blossoms into Nancy’s thick bush. Nancy leaned back
with her knees up in the same pose as Joanne’s, making noises of mock 
passion in her throat. But the longer this went on the less it looked like 
mockery. Serious passion is contagious, even among young girls, and it 
didn’t take long for Sue and Nancy to become thoroughly infected by the 
sight and sound of their girl friend being caressed so boldly and openly. 
John now had his face close between Joanne’s lush opened thighs, blowing 
gently on her flower-studded cunt, drying the damp curls with his hot 
breath. He was on his knees beside her, so that his twitching prick kept 
nudging her shoulder, and when John lowered his lips to her slit and kissed
it tenderly, she turned her head—almost automatically, it seemed—and kissed
the leaking cock-head.

Sue lifted her face from Nancy’s crotch to watch the unfolding of this 
topsy-turvy sex-play. John heard Nancy say, “Haven’t you ever seen a 
sixty-nine before? Come on.” But he didn’t see what we saw, because as soon
as he swung his leg over Joanne’s face and plunged his tongue deep into her
hotbox and felt his dick sucked into her passionate mouth, the other two 
cuties assumed the same pose. I got the feeling this was not the blonde’s 
first time with another girl, the way she helped the heavier girl to mount 
her face and position her twat. First time or not, she was not in the least
hesitant about opening Sue’s hairy slot and giving it a sloppy French kiss.

There was no horsing around now, and in a minute everyone had his mouth 
full. Joanne gripped the bare buttocks that loomed over her head and slid 
her lips hungrily up and down John’s cock as he lapped her cunt furiously 
into a bubbling swamp, and Sue and Nancy were lovingly sucking away at each
other’s clitoris like born Lesbians.

The two girls were still eating each other—rather leisurely, I thought, 
as if they intended to make an all day thing out of it—when the reel ended.
But John and Joanne just made it under the wire. She started coming first, 
not outwardly violent, but as if a terrific surge were passing through her 
body, suspending it for a moment, shivering her belly rather than 
convulsing it. And then John’s come started spurting into her mouth as his 
pleasure-twisted face wallowed helplessly in her marshy crotch. She could 
not begin to take it all; it filled her mouth and dripped heavily from her 
lips. I think she swallowed some of it, but not enough. It kept coming, 
burst after burst, filling and refilling her cheeks, until she gasped and 
sputtered for breath, trying to push him away—but not really trying, it 
seemed, She lay there as if she were dying, head lolling from side to side,
come flooding over her cheeks and into her eyes and running out her 
nostrils in thick runlets. Her mouth was wide open now, and John’s cock was
immersed in his own come, and with every new burst it would overflow her 
gaping lips in thick gooey waves that gushed over her cheeks and poured 
onto the blanket until her hair was full of it and her neck and shoulders 
were slick.

At last John fell over, spent and emptied, and Joanne’s tortured face 
lolled toward the camera in the last frames, a great quantity of milky 
semen running from her limp and gasping mouth.

CHAPTER SIX

I told you before, Mother, that around this time Paul was sitting in Palm
Pond Park with his banana in his hand, watching two sexy little girls. When
they went to the swings, he raised his camera and took some footage of them
showing their panties as they swung. Watching those girls, especially Mary,
the one with the long black hair—she had the more mature body of the two, 
but turned out to be the younger, only twelve years old—I was reminded of 
myself at that age: Flashing my pussy all the time and showing off my 
little tits as soon as they started to sprout, flirting with older boys and
men—but you remember how I was. Peggy was the same way. You had the 
misfortune to give birth to two oversexed daughters, Mother. Did we get it 
from you? If so, you sure put up a good front. Someday you must tell us 
about our real father—or do you know who he was?

Paul had seen the two girls from the street and had pulled in only for a 
quick look at them, but when he saw the way they reacted to his gaze— Mary 
even winked at him once—he couldn’t tear himself away. They were obviously 
trying to look older than they really were; both wore miniskirts, and 
Kathy, the one with the bleached hair, wore a pair of sexy sunglasses. When
they left the swings and sat down at a picnic table, Paul was sure that 
they made a point of giving him a good look up their skirts. His swelling 
cock diminished his good judgment, and he decided to make a play for them.

This was an out-of-the-way corner of the park, an area enclosed by trees 
and shrubs, and there was no one around but the three of them. When he saw 
them take out a pack of cigarettes and light up, he saw his opportunity and
got out of the car, the camera hung around his neck.

“Can I bum a cigarette off you, honey,” he asked the blonde, who had the 
pack.

“Sure,” she said, tapping out a fag and holding it out to him.

While he lit up, the black-haired girl swung her feet up on the bench and
hugged her knees, looking up at him curiously through her dark glasses, her
cigarette hanging between her fingers. (“So help me,” Paul told us, “I 
could see the whole seat of her panties—her skirt was clear up to her waist
almost. Goddamn, she turned me on!”) She took a drag, and said, “Did you 
take our picture?”

Paul said, “Yeah, you don’t mind, do you?”

She shrugged, and the blonde said, “Why did you?”

“Well, I’ll tell you,” said Paul, sitting cross-legged on the grass below
them, trying to keep his eyes off their behinds, “I’m a photographer for 
Yinyang Magazine—ever see it?—No, of course you wouldn’t have. And I’m sort
of a, uh, a scout, see? Like I travel around looking for prospective 
models—pretty girls, in other words. Well, when I saw you two, I says to 
myself. ‘Now there’s two pretty girls if I’ve ever seen any.’ So, I took a 
few shots—before I realized how young you were.”

“We’re old enough,” said the blonde.

“Oh yeah?” Paul said, dropping his eyes briefly to her thighs.

“Wanta take some more?” asked the brunette, striking a sexy pose, and 
then breaking into giggles.

“Yeah, if you don’t mind,” Paul said, readying his camera with nervous 
fingers, and thinking, “Gotta get ‘em away from this place—this is like 
playing with dynamite in a gas tank!”

But for the time being it seemed safe enough, nobody in sight. He backed 
up, raised his camera to his eye, and started shooting.

As I said, the brunette had the better shape as far as development went, 
though she turned out to be the young one. Her shape was what I might call 
“pre-voluptuous,” know what I mean? Her breasts had begun to swell, and her
hips had filled out enough to give her a well-defined waist; as for her 
legs and ass, if you saw them alone, you would have taken her for much 
older. Very nice.

The other girl, Kathy, was slimmer, but she too had nice hips and legs. 
You couldn’t help getting the feeling, though, that the little pointed 
lumps that filled out the front of her dress were made of foam rubber—and 
so it turned out. But she was beautiful anyway; she didn’t need tits. She 
was just at that stage of development that Peggy was in when she first 
began to excite me sexually. Of course, you never knew about that either, 
did you? Those nights when you wouldn’t let us go out, when you thought you
were protecting us from “those bad boys,” we. would be under the covers 
together and talk about them, and play with each other. I told Peggy all 
about sex—I’d been fucked and sucked many times by then—and I showed her 
what a boy would do to her if she let him put his hands between her legs. 
She was just starting to get fuzzy down there, and I used to get myself 
terribly worked up by pretending to be a boy and putting my head between 
her legs.

I may as well tell you that I got Peggy’s cherry. I didn’t mean to, but I
got so carried away that I poked my tongue right through it! Don’t you 
remember when you found blood on her sheet that morning and thought she was
having her first period? Ha ha!

You know what we did one time? I stole a long slender cucumber out of the
kitchen and took it to bed with me. I wanted to show Peggy how to play 
“69”. We took off our pajamas and I lay down on my back, holding the 
cucumber straight up between my legs like a big stiff prick—I was playing 
the boy’s part, you see. Then I made Peggy straddle my face and slide her 
lips up and down the cucumber, while I licked her silky little lips. Sis 
loved to feel my tongue in her, but she hadn’t begun to have orgasms yet, 
she was too young. But I wasn’t, and I brought myself off by rubbing my 
clit with the bottom of the cucumber while Peggy sucked on the top. It 
wasn’t long after this that she got a chance to try out her new skill on a 
real cock. Someday you must tell me about the games you played as a girl, 
Mother.

Anyway, all those memories came rushing back as I watched this lascivious
little bitch with the long bleached-out hair and thick bangs that reached 
her eyebrows. She got up on the table and did a slow seductive frug—it was 
more of a frig than a frug—while Paul filmed her from below. He crept 
closer to the bench until he was shooting right up her skirt, and we got a 
clear view of the crotch of her blue bikini panties drawn up into the 
crease of her pussy. Mary had a transistor radio, that’s what they were 
dancing to, and when the song ended, Kathy asked what kind of a camera that
was.

“A movie camera,” Paul said.

“I thought you took pictures for a magazine,” said Mary suspiciously. 
“Yeah, I do,” Paul answered. “We always work with a movie camera, and then 
select the best frames for publication. Of course, these won’t be 
published. You’d be paid well, though, if the editors like these shots—and 
if your parents would allow you to pose for some real pictures.”

The two girls eyed each other, tittering. “What do you mean, real 
pictures?” asked Kathy.

“Well… would you like to see a copy of the magazine?” They said they 
would, so he went to the car and took a recent issue of Yinyang out of the 
glove compartment. Have you seen this magazine yet, Mother? It’s a new skin
book that shows cunt hair and cracks and everything. It’s a good thing to 
have on the coffee table. This particular issue luckily had some pages 
devoted to very young models, some almost as young as Mary and Kathy. Paul 
tossed the magazine on the grass, and while the girls sat down to look at 
it, quickly unfolded the tripod and set up the camera. He trained it on the
seated girls, flipped it on, and joined them in the picture.

Mary looked curiously at the camera and said, “Is that thing on?”

Paul said, “No, it’s just unwinding.”

That seemed to satisfy them, and they all began to turn the colorful 
pages of naked or half-naked girls, all in the most provocative and, in 
some cases, obscene poses.

Paul held open a two-page color spread, saying, “I took that one.” His 
idea here was to try to shock the girls—even if it cost him some footage. 
He wanted to see how they would react, so he could determine how to 
proceed. The spread showed a buxom young blonde leaning back against a 
fully clothed man whose legs were stretched out on either side of her naked
hips. She had a sultry “fuck me” look in her eyes and the tip of her 
pointed tongue was curled up over her upper lip. The man had her huge tits 
cupped in his hands—not covering the big puffed-up pink nipples—and was 
smiling down at them over her shoulder. Her bent legs were raised high and 
spread wide open, revealing every detail of her shaggy peroxide-bush and 
the hungry curling lips in its midst; even the lower creases of her broad 
luscious butt was perfectly illuminated. “It took a lot of work to get the 
lighting just right on that one,” Paul said, “especially right in here.” He
put his finger on the blonde’s asshole.

Mary giggled and peered through her fingers at the photo, but Kathy said,
“You know her?”

“Sure. A real nice chick.”

“I’ll bet,” Kathy sneered.

“She is. Her husband was right there in the room when I shot that. It’s 
just a job. Just a minute, I’ll be right back.” He went to the car and got 
a can of beer from the cooler. When he came back, the girls were still 
looking at the naked blonde.

“Does she… does she bleach her—that?” asked Kathy, trying to sound bold, 
and Mary said, “Kathy!” under her breath.

“Yes,” said Paul, “she does. Otherwise it’s very dark. Do you drink?”

“I’ll have a little,” answered the blonde, taking a swallow from the can 
and handing it to Mary.

Paul ran his fingers through Kathy’s long platinum hair, and said, “Do 
you do that?”

“What?”

“Bleach your pussy.”

She looked at him, her cheeks turning very red. “I don’t have to,” she 
said, taking the can back from her girl friend and taking a big gulp of the
cold beer.

“Not yet anyway, huh?” said Paul, laughing and turning the page.

Kathy playfully slapped his face. Her eyes were already showing the 
effects of the beer, and the other girl was silly too. Paul brought two 
more cans and they examined every picture carefully, especially the ones of
the younger girls whose tits and pussy growth were in various stages of 
development. The camera was looking right up the girls’ dresses during all 
this, but even aside from that, there was something very stimulating about 
watching those little cherries smoking and drinking and perusing page after
page of naked tits and cunts—and even a prick or two—in the company of a 
lecher whom they believed had actually taken some of the photos. (We 
skipped over much of this part, as we had to with some of the other less 
moving parts in the other films, in order to have time to see all the good 
parts that night; but since then we have watched each reel in its 
entirety.) Near the end, Mary, now quite uninhibited, turned back to the 
peroxide cunt with her tits being squeezed.

“Hey, Paul, y’mean this’s part of a movie, like you said?”

“That’s right, sweety. I just told ‘em to start makin’ love, and turned 
on the camera.”

“With her husbun there an’ all?”

“Sure, he doesn’t give a damn.”

“Well, then,” she said, tapping the picture with an unsteady finger, 
“what’d they do after this?”

Paul looked at her and rolled his eyes. “Well,” he said. “Want me to show
you?… See, they were sitting like this… ” He scooted around behind her and 
stretched his legs out around her like the man in the picture, and before 
she could stop him, he slipped his hands under her arms and squeezed her 
tits through the thin cloth of her yellow dress.

“Hey!” she squealed and wiggled from his embrace. “Can’t ya jus’ tell 
me?”

“What a little chickenshit,” said the blonde, finishing her beer. And 
then, ‘Hey, Paul?”

“Hm?”

“Y’wanta take pitchers like these of us?”

“You want me to?”

“Want to, Mary?”

“HERE?”

“No, not here, silly. Wanta go to a place we know, Paul? Down at the end 
o’ the Pond?”

Right in here somewhere the reel ended. Paul said, “Now wait’ll you see 
this!” as he inserted his next roll into the projector. Paul was the third 
one to show his films that night, and by this time, in spite of all our 
efforts at self-restraint, we were half-undressed and the darkness was full
of creeping hands. Somehow Jimmy had gotten his hand down the back of my 
dress and unhooked my bra, and by sly and persistent effort John had 
managed to pull Peggy’s pants off. The first few minutes of Paul’s second 
reel was so breathtaking—mostly because of the youth of the subject (I 
guess I’m as bad as Paul when it comes to young stuff—I like little boys 
too. Yum, yum)—that I could make no protest against the hot hand that now 
entered the open front of my dress and lifted my right tit free of its 
loosened bra cup. I could feel the hot juice trickling down the lips of my 
bare cunt as the fingers rolled and stretched my drum-taut nipple…

The view looked across Palm Pond, its bright blue surface sparkling in 
the warm sunlight and making a stunning backdrop for the silver-blonde lake
sprite who stood at the water’s edge in the foreground. She was barefoot, 
but otherwise dressed in a black and red horizontally striped minidress 
that revealed more than half of her curvy tanned thighs. She turned her 
back on the camera, as though looking across the pond to the trees on the 
other side, her long straight hair whipping in the breeze, and then reached
behind her and slowly unzipped the back of her dress. The bra strap that 
was revealed was baby blue, the same color as her panties. Then into the 
picture stepped Mary—staggered, I could almost say. She too turned her back
on us, cocked her full hips, and pulled down her zipper. They looked at 
each other, giggled, and stepped out of their dresses. Following their 
directions, Paul had driven them to this hidden spot on the Pond. This 
portion of beach was perfectly enclosed by dense cocoplum bushes and scrub 
oak, and they were far from any street or house. He could hardly believe 
his good fortune.

Now they turned around—and another hand crept into my dress and removed 
my left tit from the bra. I leaned back against the pulsing chest and my 
fingers closed around the slippery thick-trunked cock that nudged at my 
ass…

Kathy reached back and boldly unhooked her padded bra, letting it slide 
quickly down her arms to the sand, baring her boyish, pink-nippled bosom, 
and immediately stepped out of her briefs, as though she were hurrying, 
plunging into the sweet excitement of nakedness before she lost her nerve. 
Paul zoomed in for a moment on her pussy—at first it seemed to have no hair
at all, but the blow-up revealed a light downy growth of uncurled 
peach-fuzz, growing in a V-pattern centered on the delicate little crease 
of her pussy.

Seeing Mary staring up and down at her unclad body, Kathy started tugging
drunkenly at her girl friend’s underwear, but the heavier girl pushed her 
away, tossed her black hair in the wind, and nervously removed her bra and 
panties. She looked exquisite in her nudity: The embarrassed innocence of 
her face only added to the brazen nakedness of her torso with its almost 
translucent powderpuff of black curls at the bottom, the deep shadowy well 
of her belly button in the middle, and those firm-soft little breasts at 
the top—budding hemispheres of girlflesh, tipped with rosy-red buttons… 
God, how striking they looked!—their naked bodies, so evenly tanned except 
for invisible bikinis of white flesh, set off in brazen contrast to the 
rippling blue water behind them.

Try as she might to look calm and sophisticated, Mary kept giggling like 
the twelve-year-old she was, and with every spasm her breasts shook 
delightfully. In my ear Jimmy said, “Just think what that little bitch will
look like in two or three years! Mm! And the blonde too.” I raised my lips 
to his ear, and whispered in reply, “Put your hand on my cunt.”

Suddenly the scene changed. The girls were now lying on a blanket which 
was spread over a soft bed of wild grape vines and periwinkles. For this 
sequence Paul had led them back away from the beach, out of sight of anyone
who might have been watching from across the pond, and set the camera on 
automatic.

At first they were lying on their bellies, propped up on their elbows, 
flipping through another of Paul’s pussy books. Then Paul, now naked, 
crawled up behind them and kissed Mary on her plump white behind. They 
looked back at him, and then covered their mouths with their hands when 
they saw that curved cock and hairy balls moving in on them.

He rolled them over and made them lie flat on their backs. He said 
something to Mary and then turned his attention to Kathy. He lowered his 
face to hers and kissed her, long and passionately, while his hand crept 
onto her flat white chest, gently fingering her stiff buttons. First she 
lay stone still, but as his lips slid down her neck to her nipples, her 
little body began to writhe with pleasure, and she hugged his head to her 
breast while his hands moved down her belly and cupped the silk-covered 
mound between her graceful thighs. All this Mary watched with open mouth, 
apparently oblivious to the camera.

Now Paul turned around with his feet to Kathy’s head, and threw his leg 
over her face, at the same time forcing her thighs open and lowering his 
tongue to her tight slit, just as John had done with Joanne a few hours 
earlier. But Kathy was by no means as experienced as Joanne, and she didn’t
know what to do about the frightening looking club of oozing flesh that was
poking at her trembling lips. After a moment Paul raised his lips from her 
dilating slit and said, “Why don’t you suck it, baby?”

Mary giggled, then said, “Go ahead, Kathy, suck it. Hee hee! Who’s a 
chickenshit now?” Kathy made a face at her and then took Paul’s cock in her
hands and curled her lips around the bulging head —that alone was a 
mouthful for her.

“Now, watch your teeth,” Paul instructed. “Keep your teeth out of the way
and your lips down… like this—” He formed his lips into an O. “Ah… good, 
just right… mmmmmmm—”

“But, goddamn it,” he told us, “I just couldn’t bring myself to shoot in 
that sweet little mouth. And after tasting that sugarbowl between her legs,
I didn’t have the heart to stick a dick in that either. I was considering 
fucking her in the ass, when the other one distracted me. There, see, she 
wants some o’ that meat for herself, couldn’t wait till I got to her.”

Mary was sitting up now, kissing the cheeks of Paul’s ass and handling 
his balls as they rose and fell over Kathy’s face. Kathy was quivering all 
over from the inflaming movements of his tongue in her virgin pussy, but 
I’m sure she never reached a climax. I know how it was when I was that 
age—it just felt good all over. Anyway, when he became aware of the other 
girl playing with his ass, he hoisted his cock from Kathy’s mouth and 
turned around.

Standing on his knees before the sitting girl, he took her face between 
his hands and jabbed playfully at her lips with the head of his 
saliva-covered penis. “Want some?” he said. A bit wide-eyed and 
apprehensive, she finally opened her mouth and let it slide in and out a 
couple dozen times, while he thoroughly massaged her swelling tits with his
palms until the rosy knobs were swollen like cherries.

Then he pulled it out of her mouth and placed her plump legs over his 
shoulders. Gripping her around the waist, he lifted her damp black 
puff-ball to his lips and lapped it furiously, until it oozed with honey. 
Then he lifted her, spread the soft smooth cheeks of her ass with his 
thumbs, and wiggled his tongue into her dainty little anus.

You should have seen her wiggle and lurch, Mother! Her responses were 
definitely more acute than the older girl’s. Paul noticed it too. He 
removed his tongue and tried to hold her still while he re-examined her 
cunt. Then he lowered her hips to the blanket and settled down between her 
legs, which, I noticed, spread to the perfect angle as though by reflex. 
Stroking her tits and bringing his face close to hers, he said, “Have you 
ever been fucked, Mary?”

She nodded her head. “My big brother—” She was panting from the 
stimulation of her genitals, and her every twitch and gesture indicated 
that she was ready. And so was Paul.

He raised his ass and fitted the throbbing head of his prick into the 
inner lips of her pussy… “That was the tightest piece I ever got,” he told 
us, “Watch how long it takes just to get it in the first time.” All the 
time he worked over her, slowly forcing his way into that narrow crevice, 
she was writhing and moaning with drunken pleasure. She had that “Oh it-hurts-so-good” look written all over her face. Apparently her big 
brother was not hung quite as heavy as her present ravisher.

But he got it in all right. All the way in—as far as it would go, that 
is. And Kathy lay panting at the foot of the blanket while they fucked, 
watching with fascination as the long slimy shank slid in and out of her 
girl friend’s woolly hole. Maybe she felt cheated.

At last Paul rose from her bosom, gripped her hips, and savagely pumped 
his surging come into her belly: Thrust, thrust, thrust, thrust—until it 
leaked from the bottom of her dilated crack and dripped onto the blanket. 
And through it all, Mary lay with her arms outstretched, mouth and eyes 
wide open, only her loins working up and down with almost imperceptible 
undulations, as though she were afraid even to move for fear of spoiling 
that ecstatic feeling between her legs…

CHAPTER SEVEN

Jimmy spent the whole afternoon at the cottage on the beach, but he got 
so “wrapped up” in what he was doing that he neglected the camera for long 
periods of time. “I mean, how in the fuck could I climb off of that 
luscious stuff right in the middle of a piece to go fix the goddamn 
camera?” was the way he put it. But even so, he knew he had some very juicy
footage in his bag, and he declined Drake’s invitation to come back that 
evening for some indoor shooting.

“I was beat,” Jimmy told us, “fucked out. That’s the most fucking I’ve 
ever done in one day. I thought I’d stop by and see my kid brother like I 
promised him, and then come home and hit the sack. I mean, if I’d seen 
Sophia Loren hitchhiking along the road, buck naked, I couldn’t have raised
a hard.”

But after a good hot meal at his parents’ house he felt better, and when 
his brother Kevin followed him out to his car afterward and said, “Hey 
Jimmy, when are you gonna set me up with those girls like you said?” he 
answered, “How about tonight?”

Kevin was referring to two college girls named June and Pam, who live 
together in a duplex over by the campus. Two weeks ago Jimmy had met Pam on
the beach and made a date with her that same night. He brought her home 
about midnight and took her to bed in the duplex, and then when she went to
sleep he slipped into bed with her roommate June and fucked her too. After 
that he went to sleep in June’s bed, and that’s when Pam found him the next
morning. But instead of being angry, she was aroused by the sight of the 
naked couple, and climbed in bed with them—which resulted in some 
exhilarating three-way lovemaking.

After that they bathed together—during which Jimmy fucked June in the 
ass—and then had breakfast. That, is, they started to have breakfast, but 
the half-naked girls puttering around the kitchen got Jimmy started again. 
Now June was the girl friend of a certain rich boy that lived over in Sago 
Beach, the son of some city commissioner or something, and his mother was 
about as much of a prudish bitch as you, Mother. She had a habit of 
dropping in on June unexpectedly, just to see what she was up to, to see if
she was good enough for her little boy, and for some reason she had picked 
this very time to pay her a call. I would love to have seen it: Jimmy said 
she actually puked on the rug! Ha ha!

You see, Pam was standing up on two kitchen chairs in front of Jimmy, who
was eating her box, while June knelt on the floor between the chairs, 
sucking him off. They were all three stripped naked, and so engrossed that 
they didn’t even hear the car pull up outside. When June felt Jimmy 
starting to ejaculate, she withdrew her mouth to about a foot away from his
cock and finished him off with her hand, letting the come shoot into her 
open mouth. It was right there that the old girl walked into the kitchen. 
Isn’t that great? It’s even better than when you walked in on Uncle Harry 
and me. Afterward the girls had invited Jimmy back for more games, and when
he suggested that he bring his seventeen-year-old brother along, they 
agreed to it. “Kevin just isn’t getting enough pussy for a kid his age,” he
had told them. He had told Kevin about this, but so far had not been back 
to the duplex.

“When the kid brought the subject up,” Jimmy said, “the first thing I 
thought of was what a great film that would have made, when I shot in that 
chick’s mouth, you know? Why not try it again for the camera? Anyway, I had
promised the kid. I know I was cheating, since I already knew the girls, 
but I was just too beat to go out and pick up something strange. So I 
called them up, and June said to come on over, Pam would be home in an hour
or so.”

When they arrived, they found June dressed for the occasion. She wore a 
black nightie that she’d ordered from one of those sexy lingerie houses—I 
have a few myself. The top piece fit low on her pointed breasts and was 
supported by black ribbons that tied at her shoulders; the rest of it was 
nothing but fringe. “Hee Hee! You should have seen Kevin blush,” Jimmy 
said.

June is a very lovely slim thing with tits not extremely large, but, as I
said, tipped with the most wonderful nipples. The nipples alone must add an
inch or more to her bust measurement; they are like little tits all by 
themselves, you know what I mean? When she gets hot, the knobs get stiff 
and stick out a good half-inch or more. Her hips are slim, but not boyish, 
and her narrow waist gives them a nice flare. Her light brown hair fell 
loosely over one eye—very sexy.

Jimmy introduced her to Kevin, who could hardly keep from staring at her 
bare tits through the fringe. She brought some drinks in and sat down on 
the sofa close to Kevin. Before things got going, Jimmy launched right into
the story of the movie contest. She was a bit hesitant at first, but when 
he said, “I give you my word, the films are just for our private use,” she 
said okay, and he brought in the equipment.

“This is gonna be great,” Jimmy said as he set up the tripod.

“Goddamn, you look good tonight. I like that thing you’re wearing.” He 
grinned at one of her exposed nipples.

“Thanks,” she said, rearranging the strings to cover the pink hillock, “I
thought you’d like it. How ‘bout you, Kevin?” The kid was speechless.

“I’m gonna start rolling now,” Jimmy said, “You two just play around for 
a while till Pam gets here.”

June shielded her eyes against the movie light. “You gotta have that 
light on?” she asked. Whatever had been hidden beneath her fringes, was now
revealed by the garish light.

“Yeah. You’ll get used to it in a minute.”

So that was the way this reel began—with this scantily clad beauty 
sitting next to a very shy-looking kid. She slid closer and smiled at him, 
intoxicating him with her presence. Then she turned around and lay down on 
her back with her head in his lap, and the black fringes fell away from her
creamy belly. She placed one graceful ankle on the back of the sofa and let
her other foot drop to the floor, so that her legs were wide open. It was 
obvious that she was performing, quite conscious of the camera. While one 
arm dangled over Kevin’s knees to give a clear view of her tits, she raised
her other hand to the boy’s face, running her fingers through his hair and 
caressing his cheek.

Soon Kevin began to respond. He lifted her face to his and their lips 
came together in a long kiss. As they sucked each other’s tongues, Kevin 
placed a hand on her uplifted thigh and slid it toward the black crotch of 
her transparent panties. She lifted her cunt to meet his hand and he 
clutched it tightly, sweat popping out of his forehead.

As the hand caressed and squeezed her crotch, she looked down at her tits
and carefully parted the tassels away from both nipples. Kevin bent over 
her and touched one of them with his tongue, slipping his hand inside the 
elastic of her panties. As he sucked that big swollen nipple with 
increasing force and passion, we could see his fingers through the sheer 
panties, working, digging in the ridge of curls until her body began to 
undulate and her legs spread even wider. Her head now hung back off his 
knee, her mouth open and her eyes shut, an expression of rapturous pleasure
on her face as her pelvis jerked and writhed to his touch.

Kevin tugged at the nightie and June sat up, pulling it off over her 
head. The boy now fell on her chest with both hands and mouth, covering her
naked tits with saliva, and we saw June’s own hand go into her panties 
where it began a circular motion.

Suddenly she tore herself away from him and stood up. “Hey, Jimmy, turn 
it off for a minute,” she panted.

“What’s the matter, baby? You were lookin’ good.”

“Yeah, I know. Too good. I didn’t know how hot I could get in front of a 
camera. But look, how much do you want? I mean, how far should I go— should
we go, that is?”

“All the way, honey. Why not?”

“Are you sure nobody’s gonna see this but you and your roommates?”

“Sure I’m sure,” Jimmy said impatiently.

June came up to him and said in a low voice. “But, Jimmy, do you want me 
to—I mean, do you want your brother to fuck me? For real?”

“Of course I do. Don’t you want to?”

“Yes. I just wanted to make sure it was okay.”

She returned to Kevin and Jimmy started shooting again. She stood in 
front of the boy and ran her hands over her naked tits and down to her 
hips, rolling down the elastic of her panties until the crack of her trim 
white ass was half uncovered. Now Jimmy took the camera off the tripod and 
moved to the end of the sofa where he could get a diagonal view as Kevin 
slowly pulled her panties down. The hairy hump of her cunt protruded 
deliciously from her belly and she thrust it out even further, as she took 
the boy’s head between her hands and pulled his face into her love-nest, 
spreading her thighs to receive him.

Jimmy scrambled between her feet on the floor and pointed the camera 
straight up into her crotch. The light illuminated her every intimate 
detail, every crease and hair, and we had a vivid view of Kevin’s tongue 
licking the oozing lips of her cunt and probing deep inside, his lips 
pressed against the light brown fuzz on her mound. His tongue came out 
dripping with cunt honey and wiggled up the slit to her clitoris, which, 
like her nipples, was extra-long. When Kevin cleared back the hair and held
the lips open with his thumbs, we saw its underside as it oozed from the 
upper corner of her pussy like a charmed snake. Oh, Mother, the sweet 
obscenity of that view! The tip of Kevin’s tongue stroking the upward 
curving undersurface of that swelling clitoris, the open quivering lips of 
that slit covering almost the entire screen, and the ice-cream-white 
undercheeks of her butt, rhythmically opening and closing, tensing and 
relaxing, in time to the lapping tongue at the exposed core of her sexual 
being! Oh Christ, it’s making my cunt lather just thinking about it!

She forced herself to pull his mouth from her crotch before she came, 
saying, “Oh, honey, be careful! Let’s make it last!” Kevin came up panting,
his cheeks glistening with sex juice, and Jimmy moved around behind the 
sofa, as June dropped to her knees and began frantically to unbutton the 
boy’s pants. He helped her, and in a minute his prick jumped into the 
light. “Oh!” she said, lowering her lips to its leaking head. I was 
surprised too by its size; it was a good cock for a kid. She lifted her 
face, rubbing its underside back and forth across her lips and nose, and we
could see her mouth moving, forming the words, “You wanta screw me? Screw 
me, screw me, screw me.”

As she spoke she rose to her feet and straddled Kevin’s lap, rubbing her 
long stiff nipples across his face. As she reached between her legs to put 
him in, Jimmy came around in front again and got the crotch view from the 
floor. She moved his cock up and down her slit for a moment and we saw the 
foam forming along its hairy lips with startling clarity before she settled
down and let the blue-veined thing go up into her body.

They were in this position, and going strong, when Pam walked in the 
door. Jimmy swung the camera around and caught the shocked expression on 
her face.

“What the hell—!”

But then he lowered the camera and put his finger to his lips. “Shh! It’s
me, Jimmy. Wait a minute and we’ll explain. Sit down, sit down.” All this 
in a whisper.

He turned the camera back to Kevin and June just in time to catch the 
climax. Their orgasms came right together; it was perfect. Her hips were 
going like a locomotive, her head dangling back limply, as wave after wave 
of fiery pleasure shook her body, and Kevin drooled helplessly on the tit 
in his mouth as his semen surged into her lurching cunt.

When it was over, June fell forward, hugging the boy’s neck, too spent to
climb off his lap.

Now Jimmy turned his attention to Pam, who was sitting in a chair across 
the small room with her legs crossed, smiling. He went over to her and sat 
on the arm of the chair.

“We’re just taking some home movies,” he said, “Wanta get in?” He leaned 
over and kissed her full lips.

“Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?” she said 
mischievously, nodding toward the boy beneath her roommate.

“Oh, that’s my kid brother Kevin. Remember I said I was gonna bring him 
over? Hey, Kevin! This is Pam.”

Kevin peeked at her through June’s hair and waved a limp hand. “Hi, Pam,”
he said breathlessly.

Pam laughed and said, “Hi there.” And then to Jimmy, “This is really too 
much, you know. What if I’d come in with my boy friend, or the landlord?”

Jimmy kissed her again and squeezed one of her big round tits. Then he 
explained to her about the contest. “Now shut up,” he said in her ear, “and
get undressed.”

“You don’t mind if I lock the door first, do you?” she said, getting up.

“Go right ahead. Hey, Kev! Snap out of it, kid. Your turn to run the 
camera. Come on, come on.”

As June sighed and dismounted, Jimmy led Pam to the center of the room. 
Pam had long dark brown hair and a heavier body than June’s—a soft rounded 
body. She wore a short red shift that buttoned up the front, high-heels and
black mesh hose. Jimmy looked her up and down as he unbuckled his trousers 
and unzipped his fly. “Get that camera ready, kid, because I’m about to 
strip this luscious thing to the crack.”

June lay on the sofa with her head propped up, letting her pussy leak on 
the cushion, as Jimmy started unbuttoning Pam’s dress and Kevin fumbled 
with the camera. She wore black see-through panties and bra and a small 
elastic garter belt. When he had removed the dress, Jimmy gave Kevin a hand
with the camera, and the first thing we saw on this part of the reel was 
the big-titted girl in black underwear, standing in the middle of the room 
with her hands on her hips. One at a time, she drew her arms from the 
shoulder straps of her bra; then, with the straps hanging at her sides, she
placed her hands on her hips again and shook her tits from side to side a 
few times until the sheer boneless cups fell from her small brown nipples. 
Her breasts were nearly twice the size of June’s, but in contrast to June’s
large protruding nipples, Pam’s had practically no aureoles at all: Just 
little dark buttons at the centers of her fleshy white balloons.

Jimmy then stepped into the picture and unhooked her bra. He was naked, 
and as she stepped out of her panties, he kept nudging her playfully in the
ass with his cock. But Pam seemed fascinated by the camera; ignoring Jimmy,
she put her hands behind her neck and did some bumps and grinds, thrusting 
her dark shaggy cunt at us. Maybe she was just teasing Kevin. Anyway, while
she was dancing, dressed only in her garter belt, hose and high-heels, June
came into the picture and joined in the dance. They faced each other and 
rubbed their nipples together, then their cunts, gripping each other’s 
buttocks. After a few minutes this lezzie act began to look serious; they 
embraced and their tongues touched, their hands feverishly playing over the
other’s body…

But Pam was a man’s girl, and when she again felt Jimmy’s cock poking at 
her buttocks, she twisted around and slid to the rug at his feet, kissing 
his balls and bathing his thick member with her hot spittle. Jimmy reached 
over and pulled June close to him, getting his hand wet and slick between 
her legs and then backing away from the two girls.

As June sat on the floor beside Pam, Jimmy began to stroke his cock. This
was the scene he’d had in mind when he decided to visit the girls that 
night—the replay of the scene I told you about. Pam spread her smooth white
thighs and leaned back on her hands as Jimmy stood over her hips, his knees
bent and his prick in his hand.

“I’m gonna shoot it in your mouth, baby. Y’ready for it?”

Pam said, “Yeah, honey, I’m ready. Give it to me!” She opened her lips 
hungrily.

It wasn’t long after that. He jacked himself vigorously as the naked 
girls on the floor watched expectantly, cupping their breasts or fingering 
themselves or doing other sexy things to hurry his orgasm. And then it 
came. He hunched down until his dick was right in front of Pam’s face, 
about a foot from her mouth: the first burst hit her cheek, but then he 
zeroed in, and jet after jet of thick white come spurted into her open 
mouth until it ran from her lips and ripped in heavy globs on her heaving 
tits.

In the last few frames June leaned in and embraced Pam, planting a big 
juicy French kiss on her open mouth, while the warm come drooled from their
chins.

CHAPTER EIGHT

The first place John hit that evening, after leaving his farm girls, was 
a go-go joint called the Two Jugs out on Old Mason Highway. It was fairly 
early and he didn’t really expect any action until later, so he was 
pleasantly surprised to find two sexy young women, already quite silly from
drinking, sitting at a table in front of the girlie machine. Have you ever 
seen one of those, Mother? It’s like a juke box with a TV screen; you put a
quarter in the slot and you get tits with your music. They had just gotten 
in some topless numbers at the Two Jugs, and that’s what the two girls were
playing, getting an enormous kick out of it.

Except for the girls and the topless barmaid the place was empty. John 
sat at the bar and ordered a beer. “You’re lookin’ good tonight, Maggy,” he
said, smiling at the barmaid’s naked 38-C’s. Maggy is a girl John knew in 
high school.

“Thanks, Johnny,” she said, looking down at her tits. “Oh! I forgot 
something. Everything’s going wrong tonight.” The girls who worked there 
always wore lipstick on their nipples, and Maggie had forgotten to put hers
on. As she took her lipstick out of her purse, John pulled his camera out 
of the pocket of his leather jacket.

“Hey, Maggie wait a minute. Lemme shoot that.”

“What?”

He told her briefly about the contest. “So everything’s going wrong with 
me too, see? I gotta get some good stuff pretty soon or I won’t have a 
chance.”

“Well… I don’t care, but the boss wouldn’t like it, I can tell you that, 
Johnny.”

“He’s not here, is he?”

“No, he’s supposed to be out of town for the weekend, but you never know 
when he’ll pop in. You put that thing away if you see him coming.”

“Right. Okay, go ahead and put the stuff on.”

When he turned on the movie light, the two girls at the table looked 
around and watched while Maggy carefully painted each nipple with pale 
violet lipstick, cupping each tit in her hand to steady it. Very nice tits,
but they sag without a bra—they sure filled up our screen, though.

When she was finished, John turned off the camera and leaned close to 
her. “Hey, Maggie,” he whispered, “how ‘bout a shot of your pussy?”

“Are you kidding?” she said.

“Just one. Come on, lemme see it. After all I’ve done for you!”

“Ha ha! What have you ever done for me, except make me miss two periods?”

“Aw, come on, honey, I’ve seen it before, you know.”

“Oh, all right. But not here, for God’s sake. Come into the back—but 
it’ll have to be fast.”

And so the next shot was of Maggie peeling down her G-string and showing 
her hairy brown cunt. She turned around and wiggled her bare butt, and then
gave her tits a little shake, but that was the end of it. John tried to 
warm her up by kissing her and fingering her crack, but it didn’t work. 
“She’s a good chick,” he said, “but she wasn’t in the mood. Just my luck.”

After that he turned his attention to the girls at the table. They had 
been furtively watching the curious goings-on between John and the barmaid,
and now they were openly giving him the eye.

“Who’re the chicks?” he asked Maggie.

“Never saw them before. Why don’t you ask them to pose for you? They look
about ready for anything.”

Without saying a word to the girls, John raised his camera, turned on the
light, and started shooting. They both wore extremely short dresses and 
their crossed legs were bare almost to the hip. They squinted against the 
light, and one of them said, “Hey, wha’s goin’ on?”

John cut off the camera and walked over to their table. “Just taking a 
few shots for an ad. Public relations stuff. Mind if I sit down? Always 
helps to include a few sexy customers, you know? You don’t mind appearing 
on television, do you?”

One of them looked at him suspiciously. “You mean that’s gonna be on TV, 
what you just took over there?”

“What, Maggie painting her headlights? Oh no, that’ll go into a printed 
brochure we’re putting together. Along with a few shots of the girlie 
machine there. How ‘bout playing me a nice juicy number? Here’s a quarter.”

The one with the pony tail made the selection. As she danced back toward 
the table, John stopped her.

“Hey, that’ll make a great shot,” he said, and to the other girl, “Why 
don’t you join her? Come on, let’s see you shake that stuff, baby.”

She leaned close to him, brushing his leg with her knee. “Will we really 
be on tel’vision?”

“Sure thing—late night stuff, you know. Come on, let’s see it, hon… ” So 
what we saw on our screen were two well-built, tipsy girls in miniskirts, 
one on each side of the girlie machine tube, negotiating some very 
suggestive hip work. On the tube itself were two big-titted blondes in 
bikinis, doing the same kind of dance, and in the foreground was a beach 
boy type lying on his back, soaking up some sun. Only all you saw of the 
beach boy was a profile of his cock— inside his bathing suit, of course, 
but quite clearly delineated nevertheless, so well in fact that you could 
see it grow and twitch when the blondes took off their bikini tops.

Not to be outdone by a machine, the chick with the pony tail began 
lifting the hem of her skirt. She didn’t have to lift it but a few inches 
to show her pink panties and the cute double bulge between her thighs, but 
you couldn’t see any hair. It was different with her companion. Her thick 
black patch was titillatingly decorated but not in the least concealed by 
her white lace bikinis, which she flashed at the camera by opening and 
closing her wraparound skirt. It was a tease, but all in all this was a 
cute sequence, because it was obvious that the girls were getting hot from 
watching the girlie machine, and it might have gone much farther, if their 
husbands hadn’t walked in right in the middle of it. “Aha!” says one.

“Caught ya, ya little whore!” says the other.

“I had to do some fast explaining,” John told us, “I was lucky to get 
outa there with my film, not to mention my ass.”

At the door he called to the barmaid, “Like you say, Maggie, everything’s
going wrong tonight.”

He was equally unsuccessful at the next three joints he hit, but his luck
was soon to change, and he would finish the night with one of the strangest
and most beautiful takes of the contest.

It was about ten when John walked into the Palm Club. The very first 
thing that caught his eye was a young girl on the tiny dance floor. She 
looked out of place, not only because of her youth—she didn’t look over 
sixteen or seventeen—but also because of the way she was dressed. Instead 
of evening clothes she had on a pair of jeans and a sweater—a very thin 
tight sweater which accentuated every detail of her full young breasts. The
knobs of her nipples pushed vividly through the material, and it was 
perfectly clear that she wore no bra.

John took a seat at the edge of the dance floor, and took his camera from
his pocket. The dancers and the bandstand were lit with brilliant red and 
blue lights, and he decided to take a chance on there being enough 
illumination for shooting. He didn’t put the camera to his eye, not wanting
to attract attention, but shot from the hip, as it were. This sequence 
turned surprisingly well; there was enough exposure, and his aim was 
excellent under the circumstances.

When I saw the girl with the big tits, I almost pissed myself. “You know 
who that is, John?” I asked.

“Audry’s her first name. That’s as far as I got.”

“That’s Audry Hanson, my boss’s daughter! Ha ha! Sweet little Audry. I 
wish her old man could see this. Did you fuck her?”

“Wait and see,” says John.

Audry danced with such abandon as I had never seen before. She danced as 
if she were being screwed on her feet, as if something alive were wiggling 
in her cunt, driving her crazy. There was an almost pained expression on 
her face, as she shook her long brown hair and ground her flaring hips to 
the deafening sexual beat of the rock band.

John said, “Some of the women there were really embarrassed. I mean, she 
really got nasty sometimes. Look at that!”

Her partner had twisted slowly to his knees, and she danced up close to 
him with spread legs and thrust her crotch in his face in a series of bumps
that looked like spasms, as if she were getting her cookies already. The 
man put his face between her legs and she raised her arms over her head, 
slowly curling and uncurling her pelvis before his extended tongue in an 
obscene dramatization of the cunnilingus act. She kept running her hands 
over her tits, clutching at her sweater, pulling it taut over her stiff 
nipples, as though she were about to undress.

Soon the inevitable shouts of “Take it off!” began to come from the men 
at the tables. As her movements became wilder and more and more obscene, 
the other couples stopped dancing to watch, clapping their hands and urging
her on. She turned from her partner to the crowd and started shaking her 
tits from side to side, clutching and stroking herself between the legs. 
The girl was absolutely sex-mad, obviously on fire from exhibiting her body
like this. She was drunk, of course, but I got the idea she was just using 
that as an excuse for her lewd behavior. Nobody gets that drunk. Besides, 
she was too sure-footed, she danced too well for someone who didn’t know 
what they were doing.

John said that when she started pulling her sweater up, the bartender 
sent somebody out to watch for cops and the crowd fell silent. Only the 
drummer continued the beat as the sweater crept up her midriff. She didn’t 
take it off, just pulled it up above her tits and looked down at her 
protruding nipples, their girlish aureoles swollen with excitement. She was
standing still now, except for a slow undulation of her hips, and her hands
slid down over her breasts to the top button of her tight jeans. The man 
who had been dancing with Audry started to approach her again with lust in 
his eye, but another woman—the one he had come with apparently—grabbed him 
and pulled him back. Enough was enough, I suppose. I wish I had a film of 
the time I got fucked on a dance floor. It was at a party I went to when I 
was sixteen. It started just as a harmless strip. I pretended to be drunk 
too, like Audry, but once I got my dress off, I couldn’t stop. You remember
Joe Marin? He took outrageous advantage of me, Mother. Just because I stuck
my pussy in his face. Everybody stood around in a circle and watched him 
fuck me on the rug—and Julie’s parents were right in the next room!

But that was at a private party where you can do things like that. Here 
there was the problem of several old bitches who had not come to see quite 
that much sex, and who had begun to complain long before Audry unzipped the
front of her jeans. But when the girl wiggled jeans and panties down to her
hips and plunged her hand into her crotch, there was a violent outcry of 
shock and anger, and the bartender reluctantly told the girl she would have
to stop, calling to her from the bar.

But Audry didn’t stop. She just stood there in the center of the dance 
floor, her sweater up above her tits, legs spread wide, with an expression 
of pained rapture on her face, fingering herself like there was no 
tomorrow. She kept it up until the bartender stepped between her and the 
crowd and put his hands on her shoulders. She opened her bleary eyes and 
looked at him.

“That’s enough, Miss,” he said. “Sorry, but I’ll have to ask you to sit 
down.”

“Why?” she slurred.

“Complaints, honey, I got complaints. Be a good girl now.” He drew her 
sweater down and gently extracted her hand from her panties. She pulled 
away from him and jerked up her jeans.

“Gitcher hands off me, y’sonovabitch!” she cried, turning very red in the
face and weaving off the dance floor.

As she passed John’s table, her fly still gaping open, he deftly slipped 
his arm around her waist and pulled her down beside him.

“Hey, whassa idea?”

“Lemme buy you a drink, baby,” says John, “I enjoyed your act.”

“Y’did, huh?” she says in a shaky voice. “I don’ wanta drink, I wanta 
screw. You wanta screw me?”

“You better believe it—” Almost before the words were out of his mouth, 
she was crawling into his lap, fumbling with his fly. “So help me God,” 
John told us, “if it hadn’t been for the motherfucking contest, I’d have 
balled her right there at the table. I never seen such a passionate bitch 
in my life! But this I had to get on film, so I crawled out from under her 
and somehow got her out the door without somebody snatching her away from 
me. My first thought was to bring her back here, but as soon as we get in 
the car, she starts crying. ‘I wanna do it in there!’ she keeps saying, ‘I 
want ‘em to see!’ And I keep telling her, ‘No, baby, we can’t do it in 
there. Let me take you to my place, I’ll give ya the fuckin’ of your life!’
But she won’t have it. It’s gotta be where people can watch or it’s no 
dice. I said, ‘Look, I got a movie camera, we’ll make a movie of it and the
whole goddamn town can see it.’ She says that’s great, but there’s still 
got to be people there while we do it. Finally I thought of the Two Jugs; 
anything goes there. So I says, ‘Okay, baby, I know just the place.’” There
is a small room for intimate dancing and lovemaking in the back of the Two 
Jugs called the Red Room, and this is the place John had in mind. Of course
very little serious lovemaking went on there, mostly just necking, but at 
least it would be in an enclosed room and it was unlikely that there would 
be any complaints from the patrons. There was still the problem of the 
camera, but John had an idea about that. The first thing he did when they 
got to the Two Jugs was to get Maggie off to the side and give her the “Now
here’s what I want you to do” bit. It worked like a charm.

The three of them, Maggie, Audry and John, entered the Red Room together.
There were no more than seven or eight couples there—some dancing, some 
smooching in the shadowy red glow. While Maggie turned down the juke box, 
John hurriedly set up the camera and aimed it in.

“Excuse me, folks,” Maggie announced, “We have a treat for you, a very 
intimate little floor show—if nobody has any objections.” Nobody did. “All 
right, Audry, do your stuff.”

Maggie turned up the music full blast, Audry stepped out to the middle of
the room and John flipped on the spotlight. All this was contrived to 
explain away the movie light, and it must have seemed cockeyed as hell to 
the customers, but once they got a look at Audry with her nipples poking 
through her sweater, grinding her luscious hips in the bright light, I’m 
sure they didn’t give a shit about explanations. I know that we who watched
it on the screen three nights later certainly didn’t.

As before, she rolled her hips and shook her breasts and rubbed her cunt 
until she had again worked herself into a feverish sex-trance. But now the 
atmosphere was right, and the watchers’ pulse-beat increased with hers, and
no one was about to prevent anything that might occur.

This time she took her sweater all the way off, to the loud applause of 
the audience. She stood before John and spread her legs, her hips jerking 
in obscene spasms. She was losing control again. John reached out and 
opened her jeans, and she wiggled out of them. For a moment or two more she
danced wildly about the tables, naked except for her white bikini panties, 
her tits bouncing and buttocks lurching, her youthful body whipping so 
violently she could hardly stay on her feet, and then… and then she 
stopped. This is where the eerie part began.

She stood there panting, looking down at her body, and then around at the
staring faces, as if savoring her own shamelessness, and a smile of pain 
and lust crept over her face. Slowly she stepped out of her pants and 
displayed her bush, running her fingers through its brown curls, spreading 
the delicate lips.

She held her arms out to John and said, “Come on. Come on and fuck me.” 
It was a hypnotic scene. You could see the people at the tables in the 
background slowly peeling off their clothes, hands massaging naked breasts,
thighs spreading, underwear fluttering to the floor. John too was caught up
in the spell; he stood with his arms hanging limp at his sides as she 
unbuttoned his shirt and unzipped his pants. In a moment, he was naked and 
she was on her knees before him, licking his balls and sucking his swollen 
cock. It had begun to look like some kind of ceremony, a sex rite, almost a
solemn thing. What should have looked crude and perverse, somehow had taken
on a beauty and a propriety all its own.

Then he was on top of her on the floor, caressing her firm white tits and
driving his dick deep into her cunt. Behind them, a blonde straddled her 
date’s lap, and her bare buttocks began to rise and fall. At another table 
a brunette wearing only panties and bra knelt between her boyfriend’s legs,
her lips sliding up and down his erect penis. All this in the same 
ritualistic tempo. Even John said it was the weirdest fuck he had ever had.
“I shot my load in her, and she got her cookies, and we kept right on 
going. It was like I had a steel rod in my prick. The third time I came, 
she passed out cold—I mean, absolutely unconscious. But her cunt kept 
going! Look, you’ll see what I mean… There, see her hips going up and down?
So I fucked her again. Jesus, I didn’t see all that going on behind us, hee
hee!”

As far as anyone could see, the orgy was still going full force at the 
end of the film.

CHAPTER NINE

It had been late in the afternoon by the time Paul got the little girls 
reasonably sobered up and safely back to the park where he’d picked them 
up. “There was a lot more stuff in Palm Pond,” he told us, “but after that 
escapade, there was nothing to do but change my territory. I was damn lucky
to get away without running into a cop or a daddy!”

With no definite plans for the evening he drove into West Sago and 
stopped at the Railroad Bar for a hamburger and a beer. To his surprise he 
found behind the bar not Fat Joe, the owner, but a voluptuous blonde, a 
Swedish-looking thing in her early thirties. Except for her the place was 
empty.

When he first sat down, she was standing at the far end of the bar with 
her back to him. She wore a translucent green shift dress, very short, with
a pattern of tiny white dots. “I thought I was seeing things at first,” he 
said. “I could see that she wore a pair of bikini panties—they were, made 
of white net and they showed right through that dress—and I couldn’t see a 
bra strap. I couldn’t believe a sight like this at Fat Joe’s! When she 
turned around, my eyes nearly popped out.”

Sure enough, she wore no bra, and her large and slightly pendulous tits 
swung loosely as she walked toward him, their big brown nipples plainly 
visible through the dark dress, and her naturally creased cleft was 
completely exposed by her plunging neckline. Even the shaggy tawny bush 
inside her net panties was only slightly obscured.

“Well, hello there,” said Paul, looking her up and down.

“Hi,” she said with a grin, “What’ll you have?”

“You,” he said.

“I’m not on the menu. How about a beer instead?”

“I guess that’ll have to do.”

She laughed and bent over for a glass, giving him a view down her dress 
all the way to the navel. Paul whistled between his teeth, and she said, 
“Down, boy.”

Just then Joe stuck his head out of the kitchen. “Hey there, boy!” he 
wheezed. “How ya like my new barmaid?”

“I was just admiring her bellybutton, Joe.”

“Got a nice one, don’t she? Ha ha ha! Ursa, meet my friend Paul. Paul, 
Ursa.”

“Hi, Ursa. You’re really too much.”

“Nice to meet you, Paul, and I’m glad you like my belly button, but don’t
get any ideas. I’m only dressed like this to draw business—for the bar. 
Anyway, if you saw me in street clothes you wouldn’t give me a second 
glance. Now, drink your beer and be a good boy.”

“Want a hamburger or something, kid?”

“I seem to have lost my appetite, Joe.”

After that the bar began to fill up. All eyes were on Ursa, and there 
wasn’t a man there that didn’t proposition her at least once. She took it 
all good naturedly, and seemed to enjoy the stares, but she kept her 
distance from everyone except Paul. “I was pretty sure she had the hots for
me,” he said. “For one thing, I was the youngest one there. Whenever she 
wasn’t busy, she would come down to the end of the bar and talk to me. 
After a couple of hours of that my balls were swollen up like oranges, and 
I told her so.

“Just for something to talk about I also told her about the contest and 
the camera and all, and when I got to the part about fucking the 
housewives, I could see I was getting her hot. Finally she told me she was 
a divorcee, and that she lived with her daughter in an apartment not far 
from the bar, and if I wanted her to help me with the contest, she guessed 
she would. The only thing she asked was that I give her a copy of the film.
Naturally, I agreed. I still couldn’t believe it was going to be that easy.
The woman was obviously a nympho, just as I had suspected when I first laid
eyes on her, but still it didn’t seem right. I found out later from Joe 
that every night she took one of the customers home with her, usually 
picking the youngest guy at the bar. This time, that was me.”

Ursa was to get off at nine. About eight-thirty Paul went to the men’s 
room, and as he stood there pissing, he heard a scuffling noise just 
outside the window—then a sort of drunken giggle, a girlish giggle. He 
snapped off the bathroom light and carefully raised the window enough to 
see out. Behind the Railroad Bar is a parking lot for the customers. You 
come into it off an alley and it’s enclosed on three sides by windowless 
buildings, but for all its seclusion you would hardly expect to see a sight
such as Paul saw.

There under the window, in the yellow glow of a street lamp, was a young 
girl lying on her back over the hood of a sports car, her skirt up around 
her waist, and a man standing before her, tugging at her panties. They were
both intoxicated. Paul’s first thought was rape, but in a moment he 
realized that was not the case.

“Charlie, stop it,” giggled the girl. “Mama’s waiting for me!”

“Jis take a minute, babydoll,” panted the man, dragging her pants off her
beautiful full hips and plunging his face into her naked crotch. The girl 
squealed and wrapped her legs around his neck, frantically unbuttoning her 
blouse.

“Wait, Charlie… lemme get naked!”

The man lifted his mouth from her buff-colored bush and helped her off 
with her skirt and blouse. When her bra came off, Paul realized that she 
had the same type body as Ursa, only younger and firmer with no sag to her 
pink-nippled breasts.

When she was naked, she lay back on the hood again and spread her legs 
wide, holding her tits in her hands. Charlie dropped his pants and, after a
few clumsy jabs, sunk his dick into her fuzzy pussy. It was a fast fuck, 
but before it was over, the girl’s long straight blonde hair was down in 
her eyes and she was covered with sweat. “Oh shit!” she said as she stood 
up, “Look at me now. Wha’s Mama gonna think?”

“She don’ care. Look, I gotta go, baby, my old lady’s gonna have the cops
out after me. Here, take your stuff and go wash up in th’ li’l girls’ 
room.”

She gathered up her clothes in her arms, called Charlie a son of a bitch,
kissed him goodbye, and stumbled into the back entrance of the bar, stark 
naked. Paul heard her pass by the bathroom door and enter the ladies’ room.

“I couldn’t help trying the door as I went by,” he admitted, “but she had
it locked.” He went on down the hall and out into the bar, puzzling over 
what he had seen.

When Ursa came and sat beside him again, he said, “You’ll never believe 
what I just saw in the parking lot out back.”

“What?—Oh, look, here comes my daughter. We can leave now.” The girl 
waved cheerfully to Fat Joe in the kitchen as she came through the back 
door, looking surprisingly fresh and sober—if a bit wrinkled and 
bleary-eyed. “What was it you saw?” asked Ursa.

Paul said, “Oh, nothing. I’ll tell you later.”

“Paul, this is Ellie,” she said as the girl sat down beside Paul, showing
a great deal of white thigh.

“Hi, Ellie,” said Paul, remembering how she had looked a few minutes ago,
and wondering if she was to be in on the games.

“Paul’s coming home with us tonight, Ellie. Why don’t you show him out to
the car? I’ll be right there.”

Ellie said, “Okay, Mama,” and led the way out to the parking lot again. 
In the car Paul slipped his arm around the girl and pulled her to him. He 
was going to tell her what he had seen from the window, but before he could
get a word out of his mouth, her lips were clamped to his in a fiery kiss. 
To Ellie, it seemed, men were for just one thing, and no preliminaries were
necessary. Paul was so carried away with this burst of response to nothing 
more than an arm around the shoulder, that he completely forgot where he 
was and what he was doing.

While their tongues intertwined, he frantically unbuttoned her blouse and
peeled her bra from her tits. Her own hand found his rock-hard penis and in
a moment his fly was open. Before he knew what was happening she was on his
lap, facing him, naked to the waist, saying, “Fuck me! Quick before Mama 
comes!”

She had not put her panties back on, and in a moment she had guided 
Paul’s cock into her still juicy slit and was bouncing joyfully up and down
on his lap, her big titties slapping him in the face.

Paul was in the midst of his orgasm, when Ursa opened the car door.

“Ellie!” she scolded, “couldn’t you even wait till we got home?”

“He started it,” said Ellie.

“Now wait a minute!”

“It’s okay, Paul,” said Ursa. “I understand. Now come on, Ellie, let’s go
home. You drive. Climb off, Ellie!”

“Oh, please, Mama, I gotta have more! I got it bad today. Come on, honey,
give me some more—” and she starts bouncing again, but Paul of course has 
shot his wad, and felt nothing but embarrassment and confusion.

“I said, climb off!” Ursa said, shoving the girl aside. “It’s my turn.”

Paul was beginning to think he had gotten into a Spanish fly epidemic, 
and he was almost right. The truth of this business didn’t come out until 
just the other day when Paul went back to see Ursa and Ellie at their 
apartment, expecting to get the same reception as this time I’m telling you
about. He did, as a matter of fact, get his wick dipped again, but it was 
nothing like the unbridled sex play they had given him before. It seems 
that they had been taking some kind of pregnant mare’s serum to prove to a 
friend that it was without effect on humans as an aphrodisiac. Needless to 
say, they lost the bet, and as soon as they discovered its effect on them 
they stopped taking it. But the symptoms lingered on for a week or more, 
and it was during the last days of their sex madness that Paul encountered 
them. “I tried to find out how I could get some of the stuff,” he said, 
“but they wouldn’t tell me. Anyway, they said it only affected certain 
people that way.”

But on that Saturday night, Paul wasn’t much interested in explanations; 
he was too overjoyed at his good fortune.

After whimpering a little more, Ellie slid under the wheel, wearing only 
her skirt, and started the car. Before Ursa got in, she jerked up her short
skirt and pulled down her panties. Then she took Ellie’s place on Paul’s 
lap, and as they pulled out into the traffic, she reached into the front of
her dress and lifted her huge dark-tipped tits free of the low neckline, 
apparently oblivious to the stares of passing motorists, saying “Are you 
ready yet, honey? Can you do it again now? Oh, please! You can take all the
movies you want when we got home, but please fuck me now!”

Soon Paul was stiff enough to stick it into her, and he fucked her all 
the way home. “How in hell we kept from passing a cop is more than I can 
figure,” he told us. “But if I hadn’t fucked them until we got to the 
apartment, I wouldn’t have been able to hold ‘em off long enough to set up 
the camera! As it was they were calmed down enough to put on a good show, 
and I had a chance to recover. Watch this.”

The first thing we saw was Ursa, standing beside a bed, removing the pins
from her hair. She still wore the dress Paul had described to us, but 
nothing else. Her long curvy legs were spread apart, and the thick tufts of
cunt hair were perfectly visible hanging down between her thighs. In her 
unshaven armpits grew the same kind of hair, wild tawny curls, giving her a
kind of savage aspect. Paul called her a “lascivious she-goat in heat.” He 
said she actually gave off a musky smell, a strong but sweet odor of pure 
sex.

When her long thick hair was loose and cascading over her shoulders, she 
drew her dress slowly off over her head and threw it to the floor, 
displaying her full nakedness in the bright movie light. God, what a body 
she had! And what a bush: A regular forest of thick matted curls reaching 
halfway to her belly button.

She slid onto the bed like a great blonde snake and spread her legs in an
obscene pose, thrusting her hairy gash up off the mattress. We were looking
right down the juicy bore of it.

Then Ellie came into the picture. She climbed up on the bed and stood 
over her mother, facing the camera as she removed her bra and panties. She 
had quite a bit of hair between her legs too—not as much as her mother, but
she was only seventeen.

As she squatted over Ursa’s face and lowered her face to Ursa’s cunt, 
Paul lowered the camera to the height of the mattress, so that we had a 
clear shot of Ellie fishing out her mama’s stiff clitoris with her tongue, 
kissing it and sucking it. Then he moved around to the side so we could see
the whole thing —mother and daughter licking each other into a frenzy, 
grinding and lurching as though in the throes of an endless chain of 
orgasms.

Why didn’t we ever do that together, Mom? What fun the three of us could 
have had—you and me and Peggy. Maybe that’s what you needed all along: A 
good stiff tongue in your cunt.

Even when Paul stepped onto the bed, they kept it up; they couldn’t stop.
But Paul’s prick was now as big as a hammer handle, and was looking for a 
hole. For a few minutes he stood over them, stroking himself as he watched 
the writhing cunt-lappers at his feet; then he squatted at the head of the 
bed between Ellie’s jerking feet, peering into her crotch where her 
mother’s tongue probed and rippled. Leaning forward, he spread the soft 
white cheeks of Ellie’s ass and lowered his lips to the crack. We saw her 
shiver all over as he tickled her sweet little anus with his tongue and 
stroked her tits with his hands.

When he had it wet and loose, Paul moved forward, gripped the girl’s full
hips, and began to work the head of his cock into her asshole. Ursa watched
it go in, never slackening her tongue strokes in Ellie’s foaming slit. It 
must have been quite a view, huh, Mother?

When he got it all the way into her, his balls dangling in Ursa’s face, 
and began the in-and-out business, it seemed to affect both girls alike—one
from watching, the other from feeling. Every time Paul drove it into Ellie,
Ursa’s hips would jerk upward as if it were going into her, and when in the
end Paul hunched forward and pumped his come into the girl’s rectum, Ursa’s
cunt began jumping and twitching with such violence that her daughter’s 
face was completely engulfed by it and even her hair was drenched in cunt 
water.

CHAPTER TEN

So there are the three films. What do you think, Mother? Who would you 
have given it to? It was really between Paul and Jimmy; each had filmed six
girls and had sexual intercourse of one kind or another with each of them. 
John was behind with four, not counting the part where Maggie showed her 
snatch. But of course Jimmy cheated a little by visiting June and Pam.

“But I think he made up for that,” said Peggy, “with those scenes at the 
beach and on the patio, ‘specially where that first blonde put it into her 
girl friend’s pussy. Mmm, that was too much!”

“You didn’t like my floor show?” asked Paul, slipping his hand down into 
the neck of her dress.

“Sure I did,” she said, letting him squeeze her tit. “And then there were
Paul’s little girls, too— Hey, why do I have to decide, Nadine? And what’s 
this mysterious prize you keep talking about?”

“You’ll find out about the prize,” I said, tucking my tits back into my 
bra as Paul turned the lights on. “But you don’t have to decide just yet. 
Hey, get your hand out of there, Johnny!”

“What do you mean? Why doesn’t she have to decide yet?” asked Paul.

“Because our ‘Fuck Film Festival’ isn’t quite over,” I said, pulling 
Jimmy’s hand out of my crotch and standing up. “You see, I did a little 
movie making myself last Saturday.”

“Aha!” they say.

“I got four cameras from Hanson instead of three like I told you. I don’t
know how my films turned out, but I sure had fun making them. Wanta see?”

“You better believe it!”

“This oughta be good!”

So I went into the bedroom and came out with my reels. My fingers shook 
with excitement as I inserted the first cartridge into the projector. I was
terribly excited at the prospect of seeing myself on the screen…

As soon as the boys had gone that morning, I dug out my camera and set it
up in the corner of the front room at the end of the sofa. It was a pretty 
bright dawn, and the curtains over our bay window are thin, but I opened 
them anyway to be sure I had enough light. I was setting a trap for the 
milkman, and I had just set the stage and slipped into one of my 
transparent shorty nightgowns, sans panties, when I heard his truck pull up
out front. He always came into our apartment and put the milk in the 
refrigerator, so it was a perfect set-up. Besides, he was young and 
good-looking.

I turned on the camera and lay on my back with my feet toward the door, 
one knee up and the other turned out, so that he would be looking right 
into my fingerbowl when he came in. When I heard him outside, I closed my 
eyes and pretended to be asleep…

At first he didn’t even notice me—walked right past the sofa and into the
kitchen, whistling away. But on the way back through the front room the 
whistling came to a sudden stop. The camera only caught his feet as he 
stood there at the end of the sofa, staring at me. I didn’t move. After a 
minute he slowly and quietly set his milk racks on the floor and stealthily
approached the sofa.

It was almost unbearable, lying there with my eyes closed, listening to 
his breath rattling in his throat, feeling the hot presence of his body. I 
didn’t realize it until I saw the film, but my nipples began to swell 
before we touched, as if he were stroking them with his eyes. They weren’t 
in the least concealed by the nightie, but shone bright and pink through 
its blue film, and the upper parts of my tits weren’t even covered by it. 
(My tits stand up very nicely when I lie on my back, considering their 
size—if I do say so myself.) It was a nice shot, with the early sun shining
through my honey-colored cunt hair, edging the upper curls with gold.

The milkman was very close now, leaning over me, breathing heavily, his 
hands trembling with indecision. I couldn’t stand it any longer; I was 
afraid he wasn’t going to do anything, that any minute he would run for the
door. Still pretending to be asleep, I rolled toward him, letting my 
forearm brush his trousers. To make him think I took him for someone else, 
I smiled and snuggled my cheek against his leg, raising a hand to his thigh
and stroking the stiff bulge in his pants. That did the trick. The next 
thing I knew his cock sprang into my hand and his fingers were clutching my
breasts, squeezing them, pushing them together, pulling them apart. I 
dragged his pants down and he stepped out of them; straddling my chest, he 
ripped the nightie apart, sandwiched his cock between my bare tits and 
began pumping away.

Tit-fucking wasn’t exactly what I had in mind, but it felt good, so I let
him continue. It was fascinating, watching the big oozing head of his penis
darting in and out of my cleavage, making my tits all warm and slimy, as 
his fingers pinched and rolled the erect knobs of my nipples.

I was still looking down the barrel when he started to shoot, so that the
first spurt hit me on the lips. I turned my head a little and took the rest
on my cheek and chin, but I watched the whole thing, thrilling to those hot
splashes of surging come.

When he got his breath back, he dismounted and started stammering out an 
apology, but I put my hand over his lips and said, “It’s okay, honey, I 
knew who you were. Just get me a towel from the bathroom.” As I dried 
myself off, he said, “I didn’t mean to… to do that, but I couldn’t stop. 
Anyway, you can’t say I got you pregnant.”

“Don’t apologize, I liked it. But don’t worry about getting me pregnant. 
I’m on the pill. Come on, sit down.”

I slipped off the remains of my nightie, and the milkman took off his 
shirt, and we lay together beneath the camera in the warm sunlight, 
exploring every part of each other’s body until his erection returned. He 
got on his knees between my legs and lifted my buttocks up to his mouth, 
and I got some beautiful footage of his tongue spreading the dense tufts at
the top of my slit and gently lapping my clitoris.

Then he propped my ass up on a pillow and gave me a good fucking. The 
camera caught every violent twitch of my orgasm; I never realized I jerked 
and jumped that much!

So that’s the way I started the day. The milkman left well satisfied, but
the encounter had only whetted my sexual appetite.

However, I fixed myself some eggs and bacon and lounged around the 
apartment till about nine-thirty when Ernest, the yardman, arrived. I 
hadn’t planned on putting the make on Ernest—not because he’s black, but 
because he’s too old—so I didn’t pay much attention to what was going on 
outside until I noticed he had someone with him today—a young man, about 
twenty with a fabulous build. As soon as I saw him, I knew I had to have 
him.

Have you ever been fucked by a Negro, Mother. I heartily recommend it to 
you, if you ever get the chance. This was not my first time, by the way. 
You remember Jake, the chauffeur we had before Daddy died? He and I were 
very close, you know, but I’m sure you didn’t know how close. You know when
we were staying at the lake, and you used to have him take me shopping or 
something in town? I would make him take me out in the woods and screw me. 
At first he wouldn’t do it, until I told him I’d say he raped me if he 
didn’t. What a dick he had! It was a foot long if it was an inch, such a 
beautiful thing. The first time he stuck it in me I cried like a baby, 
scared him to death, but I made him do it—I had to have it, even if it 
split me open. How I loved Jake! He was so kind and understanding, so 
different from what I was used to. Why did you fire him, you bitch?

Anyway, this guy with Ernest reminded me of Jake. He had the same broad 
shoulders, the same square chin and high cheekbones. I wondered if he was 
the same between the legs.

I slipped into a pair of hip-hugger party pajamas and a silk blouse. It’s
not really a blouse, but sort of a bib—my own creation: I took a triangle 
of black silk, cut arm holes in the two upper corners and rounded off the 
points. That’s all there is to it. (Why don’t you make one for yourself? It
should go nicely at the bridge parties.) It would be fairly concealing, 
except in windy weather—even though it has no back or sides—for a person 
with average-sized breasts, but mine are so large that most of their outer 
surfaces are uncovered. The lower point of the triangle hangs just above my
waist. It gives a very good view from the side, and from the back when I 
bend over, but to make it more revealing in front, I cut a round window out
of the silk so the crease between my tits would show.

The pajamas were Arabian style, made of transparent black gauze and 
gathered around the ankles. They’re supposed to be worn over a pair of 
black bikini panties, but this time I wore nothing underneath but cunt 
hair, which showed through nicely.

I set up the camera in the bedroom this time and went to the front door. 
Ernest and his helper were unloading their lawnmowers and things from the 
truck. I waited until the old man went around the corner of the building 
and then opened the door, mussing my hair so it would look like I just got 
up.

“Good morning,” I called to the boy.

“Mornin’” he says nervously, his eyes going straight to my bush.

“Would you please bring me that paper?” He picked up the newspaper and 
brought it to me. “You’re new with Ernest, aren’t you?” He nodded and 
mumbled something, trying to keep his eyes off my body. “What’s your name?”
I asked.

“Peter.”

“Mine’s Nadine.” I made my voice low and breathy. “Wanta come in for a 
while, Peter?”

Now he understood, and a wide grin slowly spread across his face. “I’d 
sure like to, Miss, uh, Nadine. But I got t’get workin’ or the old man’ll 
skin me.”

“Oh, that’s too bad… Couldn’t you explain it to Ernest?”

“No man. Ernest is all the time sayin’ white women is poison, stay away 
from white women, he say. He catch me here talkin’ to you, he gonna chew my
ass good.” He looked down the walk to see if Ernest was coming. Then he 
stood very tall and looked down into my eyes. “This ain’t some kinda trick,
is it?” he said.

“It should be,” I said, giving him my sexiest smile.

“Huh?”

“It should be some kinda trick.”

The grin again. “You somethin’ else, ain’t you, baby? Okay, listen, the 
old man gonna leave in a minute. Soon as he’s gone, I’ll be back.”

“I’m hip,” I said. “But hurry!”

It seemed like hours, but it was only about fifteen minutes until Ernest 
climbed into the truck and drove off. When Peter came to the door, I 
switched on the camera and called to him from the bedroom.

“It’s open, Peter, come on in!” I wanted to tear off what clothes I had 
on and throw myself on him, but I also wanted it to last a while, so I 
restrained myself. “In here, Peter,” I sang to him, “in the bedroom.”

When he came in, I was propped up on the bed with my ankles crossed, 
sipping a bloody mary. “Your drink’s on the nightstand, Peter. Why don’t 
you get comfortable?”

He grinned and took a swallow, his eyes sweeping my body. “This sure 
beats yard work,” he said as he removed his shirt, baring his beautiful 
blue-black chest. “Now just what you got in mind?”

“Why don’t you give me a back rub to relax me?” I set down my drink and 
rolled over on my stomach. “You get undressed.”

He stepped out of his pants and climbed on the bed. I closed my eyes as 
his big hot hands massaged my bare back, working up my sides, his fingers 
just brushing over the outer bulges of my tits at first, then becoming 
bolder and pressing into the soft flesh. His strong grip nearly encircled 
my waist, his fingers slipping under me, kneading my belly, then sliding 
out over my hips to the elastic band of the pajamas and up over the cheeks 
of my ass, cupping them in his black palms, spreading them and peering 
between. The sheer black pajamas concealed nothing, neither from Peter nor 
the eye of the camera. The sunlight streaming in through the bedroom window
lit up my white round buttocks like full fleshy moons shining through black
veils. When he stroked the backs of my thighs, I spread them wide, and as 
his palms slid up near my crotch, my cheeks instinctively tightened and 
relaxed several times in succession. His breathing became heavier.

Then he was climbing over me, facing my feet, his smooth warm buttocks 
pressing down on my shoulder blades, the wiry bristles on his balls 
electrifying my spine. I felt the elastic of my pajamas being drawn down to
my knees, hot breath on my bare ass, steel fingers opening my crack! Then 
his head was between my legs, his tongue licking the tender flesh between 
my pussy and my asshole, turning my blood to liquid fire!

I don’t remember his turning around and lifting my ass into position. Oh,
if you could have seen that cock of his, the way it looked on the screen! 
It was even longer and thicker and blacker than Jake’s—it had a head on it 
as big as a tennis ball! But even so, my cunt was so hot and juicy that it 
slipped right in. God, what a penetration! It must have gone right into my 
womb.

After he had fucked me dog-style for a while, he pulled it out and 
started working it into my anus. It took some time, but at last it went in,
a little at a time, until it was going in all the way on each stroke, the 
friction of his gigantic shaft on my perineum driving me headlong into one 
of those deep-born orgasms that wrack your body like a chain of electric 
shocks. He shot such an enormous quantity of come into my rectum that I 
thought my belly would explode.

When Peter went into the bathroom to piss, I slipped a new cartridge into
the camera and stretched out on my back on the bed. As he walked back into 
the bedroom, I saw that his dick had already begun to stiffen again.

“Now I see why they call you Peter,” I said, fondling the huge thing. He 
laughed as he mounted my waist and pulled the black bib from my shoulders. 
I held out my arms and let him slide it off. He squeezed my naked tits with
his long black fingers and sucked the swollen nipples with his strong thick
lips, nibbling at the stiff knobs.

“They oughta call you ‘Tits’, then,” he said, lifting his face to mine.

“They do,” I said.

We laughed and rubbed noses, and then the laughing died. I put out my 
tongue and he wrapped his heavy black lips around it, sucking it into his 
mouth and tickling its tip with his tongue while his fingers rolled my 
nipples and stroked my breasts, and I felt the long slippery underside of 
his penis sliding up and down my belly, his balls tickling my navel. When 
he released the suction on my tongue, our open mouths came together in a 
long searching kiss, and then I held his face between my hands and licked 
his lips, his flaring nostrils, his eyes, his ear, his neck, his chest.

He got to his hands and knees and crawled forward until he straddled my 
face. His prick was so thick I could hardly get my lips around it! It was 
suicide to suck that cock; I knew if I let him come in my mouth, it might 
kill me, but at the time I couldn’t think of a better way to die. I worked 
him frantically with tongue and lips, urging him on, but he held back, not 
wanting to hurt me. I removed my mouth for a moment and said, “Give it to 
me, Peter! Give it to me! Shoot it down my throat! Please!”

After a pause, he straightened up a little and took my head between his 
hands. “Okay, bitch,” he said, “I’m gonna give it to yuh.”

Holding my head in place, he began to pump his cock into my stretched 
lips with deliberate and powerful hip-strokes, grunting deep in his savage 
chest as he watched it going in and out, the black shank gleaming with 
saliva, faster, faster, faster—!

I closed my throat and let the first burst fill my cheeks, and then began
to swallow it down as fast as I could. Time after time he filled my mouth 
and throat with thick teeming quicksilver, until it sprayed through my lips
and ran out my nose. It was three times the load the milkman had served me 
that morning, and it had more than three times the force behind it, but I 
came through with flying colors. Peter said it was the best blowjob he’d 
ever had.

“I didn’t even know a white woman would suck a dick,” he told me later.

To show his gratitude, he ate my cunt. Goddamn, what a tongue he had! He 
had me literally boiling over before he was through. By then it was noon, 
and he had just jumped into his clothes and slipped out the door, when the 
old man drove up out front to pick him up for lunch. Of course the yard 
hadn’t been touched, and Peter was going to be in big trouble with Ernest.

At the door I said, “Let me explain to Ernest, Peter. I’ll tell him it 
was my fault.”

“Naw,” he says, “you don’t have to do that. I’d lose fifty mothafuckin’ 
jobs for a mornin’ like this one. See you again sometime?”

“The sooner the better, I said, “Drop in anytime.”

After that I had lunch and was about to go out in the car and see what I 
could pick up. It was a day for fucking, as I said at the beginning, and I 
was just getting warmed up. But then I remembered that it was Saturday, and
that our paperboy would be coming soon to collect. Ever since Terry started
delivering our paper, I had been teasing him by coming to the door in my 
underwear or my nightie, and he had been getting friendlier and friendlier 
lately. But he’s only sixteen years old, and would never have had the 
courage to try anything with me. This was the perfect time to give him a 
treat.

I moved the camera back out to the front room and trained it on the 
center of the floor. I threw some cushions down to mark the arena and 
stepped into the sheer pajamas again. But I left my body naked from the 
hips up, combing my hair down over my breasts. Everything was ready when 
the kid walked up to the door with his dog.

“Paperboy!”

“Oh, hi, Terry,” I said, opening the door. “Come on in, I’ll see if I 
have some change.”

“N-no thanks, ma’m,” he stammered, his face turning red as he realized I 
was practically naked. “Can’t leave Hans by himself, he’ll get in trouble.”

“Bring him on in,” I said. “It’s all right.”

“Well… okay, I guess.”

The dog Hans, a huge German shepherd, seemed very well behaved at first; 
he sat down by the door to wait. I said, “Sit down, honey,” and turned my 
back on him, pretending to dig for change in my purse and giving him plenty
of time to drink in my bare back and lightly veiled buttocks. When I turned
around I knew I had him hooked.

“Sorry I’m not dressed, I just got up.” I yawned and stretched as I 
approached the sofa where he sat. “You don’t mind though, do you?” He shook
his head, grinning at my bare belly. I had shoved the elastic so far down 
my hips that a row of cunt curls showed above it—and of course the rest of 
them were quite visible below it. “Had a wild party last night,” I said, 
sitting down beside him. “How about you? Did you have a date?”

“Yeah,” he said in a shaky voice, “took my girl to a movie.”

“Get any?” I asked matter-of-factly.

“Huh?”

“Did you get any pussy?”

“Oh… heh, heh—er, no.”

“Have you ever had any?”

“Sure,” he said. “Lots.”

“Oh, yeah?” I leaned back against the sofa, raised my hands to my neck, 
and deliberately nipped my hair behind my shoulders, baring my tits to the 
bright daylight. His eyes bulged. “Want some more?” I asked quietly. He 
didn’t answer. I rose slowly to my feet and stood before him, hooking my 
thumbs into the elastic of my pajamas. “Terry?”

“Huh?”

“Wanta screw me?”

After a moment he said, “Yes ma’am.”

“Don’t call me ma’am, for Christ’s sake, I’m only four years older than 
you. Call me Nadine. Come on, Terry, let’s fuck.”

But he didn’t move. I pulled down the pajamas and stepped out of them. 
The dog cocked his head and looked at me with a curious eye. “Terry… 
please, honey.” I sank to my knees at his feet and opened his pants, taking
his dick into my mouth as soon as I got it free. That did it. He came to 
life. “This is really happening to me!” he seemed to be saying to himself, 
as he stroked my hair and pushed his pecker into my mouth. In a moment he 
was naked and I was on my back on the rug, spreading my legs to receive 
him, putting it in for him, holding my nipple up for him to suck.

He hadn’t had “lots” like he said, but he knew what to do all right, and 
what he didn’t know he made up. It was good while it lasted, but he was too
quick. I could hardly blame him, of course—a young kid like that on a 
luscious whore like me. Ha ha! But still, I needed something to finish me 
off, to make me come, or my ovaries would ache. Terry had no sooner rolled 
off than I discovered what that “something” was going to be.

I was lying on my back, staring at the ceiling, when I felt it. At first 
I thought Terry was eating me, but then I realized his head was on my arm. 
I looked down to see Hans standing between my legs, lapping away at my 
slit. When he heard the slurping noise, Terry looked down too. “Hans! Stop 
it!”

“Oh, please!” I moaned, “Don’t stop him! Ohhhh, it feels so good… ” But 
just when I was about to come, the licking stopped, and I felt the dog’s 
hairy forelegs clutching me around the thigh.

“No, Hans,” I panted, “not like that—like this!” I turned over and rose 
to my knees, sticking my butt up in the air. “Help him, Terry, hurry!”

“You mean you want him to—”

“I want him to fuck me, Terry, F-U-C-K! Ah— come on, Hans, that’s it, 
boy!”

The big dog didn’t need much help. Once he got his forelegs around my 
waist, he had it made. In fact, he had less trouble finding the hole than 
his master had. Oh, sweet Jesus, how hot that prick was! Wow! A half a 
dozen strokes and I was on fire, I felt molten, you know what I mean? The 
liquor was pouring out of my cunt like boiling honey. It wasn’t semen that 
dog pumped into me, but lava— pure, black, smoking, crackling lava.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

After Terry and Hans left I had a cool shower, a warm douche, and was 
ready for some good clean outdoor sex, filmed “on location,” as they say. I
had played the morning more or less by ear, but I had a plan for the 
afternoon—at least as a starter.

I got into a green pleated miniskirt, that hangs exactly three inches 
below my pussy, and an orange crocheted sweater consisting mostly of holes.
No bra, of course—no pants either. But I should mention, Mother, that 
though I was dressed for action that day, the outfit wasn’t much different 
from what I normally wear. Underwear is on the way out nowadays anyway. Out
behind Lake Leethy Hills there is an abandoned subdivision that the kids 
call “Passion Park.” It was started during the Florida boom and never 
completed. There are no houses, just a network of old paved streets running
through pine woods and scrub oak. That’s where I headed.

There was nobody around except some surveyors working out on the highway.
I drove back to a certain cul-de-sac where a guy from the plant fucked me 
one day during our lunch break; it was a perfect spot for what I had in 
mind. I parked my car at the edge of the paved circle and concealed the 
camera and tripod behind some palmettos, sighting in on the hood. Then I 
marked the location of the car by placing two rocks by the front wheels and
drove back to Lake Leethy.

When I got into heavy traffic, I put the top down and unbuttoned the 
front of my sweater. I must have made quite a picture, with my dark glasses
and my long blonde hair streaming in the wind, my chest bare down the 
middle and my nipples poking through the wide mesh, legs spread and bare to
the hip—Ah, I felt good! I felt sexy and fresh and hot between the thighs. 
I was ready.

It wasn’t long until I picked up a follower: Three guys about my age in 
an old Plymouth sedan. First they passed me in the right lane, craning 
their necks and whistling. Then they slowed down to let me pass them, and 
this time I gave them a smile. That was all it took; when I turned off, 
they were right behind me, and they stayed there all the way back to 
Passion Park. I pulled my car into position and ran to the camera. I had 
just enough lead on them to switch it on and dash back to the car, but they
had already turned the corner and saw me coming out of the woods.

“Car trouble, baby?” called the driver as he jumped out. I just smiled 
and shook my head. They looked curiously into the woods and asked what I 
was doing in there.

“Don’t you know little girls have to peepee once in a while?” I asked, 
which sort of made them blush for a minute but served to open the 
conversation. Of course I accused them of following me and all that, but my
protests were brief and weak because I didn’t want to waste any more film 
than necessary, and it wasn’t long before the guy named Sammy had me bent 
over the hood with his tongue down my throat.

Sammy was tall and had thick dark hair; he reminded me of the man in that
movie I told you about—the one who climbed through the window and fucked 
the blonde. The other two were stockier and not quite as good-looking, but 
who cares about that? They were supposed to be watching for cars while 
Sammy worked me over, but when he straightened up and threw open my 
unbuttoned sweater, the last thing they were watching for was cars. There 
were other watchers too; neither the boys nor I noticed them, but the 
camera at this time was picking up the glint of glass across the small 
field to the south of us.

I spread my arms wide and let my hair fan out over the red mirror-surface
of the hood, thrilling to the suction of Sammy’s lips on my nipples, as his
hand discovered that I wore no panties. He lifted my shoulders and said, 
“Let’s get in my car, baby. I got a nice big back seat—”

“No! I want to do it here, in the open.” I lifted my legs and draped my 
knees over his shoulders, at the same time slipping out of my sweater. 
“Come on, sock it to me, Sammy—uhn, uhn, uhn!”

How could he resist? In a moment his pants were crumpled at his feet and 
he was shoving his long dark cock into my drooling fuzzy snatch. In and 
out, in and out, the warm sunlight filtering through the pines, the blue 
and white sky overhead, the slippery intruder in my belly, in and out, in 
and out, its oily friction turning my bones to water and my blood to fire. 
Ah! What ecstasy!

Sammy clutched my hips and set up a lightning stroke that brought us off 
together in simultaneous rapid-fire orgasms that made the car springs 
squeak.

The next guy—I forget his name, call him Jack —rolled me over and fucked 
me dog-style, my legs dangling off the fender, while his hands rhythmically
kneaded my breasts. When he was finished, I stood up and faced the camera. 
I stretched leisurely and rubbed my hairy cunt with satisfaction. Then, 
while the third boy got out of his pants, I threw one arm around Sammy’s 
neck and the other around Jack’s.

“Let’s try something different,” I said, “Lift me up.”

I spread my legs and lifted my feet up off the pavement. Sammy and Jack 
each grabbed a thigh, cupping a cheek of my ass with the other hand. This 
made a real good shot, even before the third guy went to work on me. I was 
still winded from the first two fucks, and my big white tits were heaving 
beautifully in the sunlight, and the dilated lips of my open vulva sparkled
in the midst of my tawny bush with come and cunt froth. I hadn’t realized 
just how much hair I had, until I saw my crotch spread open like that on 
the screen; the scene perfectly exemplified my state of mind, because I was
all cunt that day, and that’s just what I looked like in that position.

They turned me toward the other boy, and Sammy said, “Come and get it, 
George. We’ll hold her for you, so she don’t get away.”

George approached me with his cock in his hand, leering into my open 
hole, almost drooling with lust. But he was cruel. Instead of jabbing it 
right in, he rubbed his club-headed dick up and down the tender exposed 
inner lips of my twat, making me moan and whimper and tremble all over.

Then Jack said, “Why don’t you eat it, George?”

My clit was sticking up like a little prick by that time, and he sunk his
lips into my hairy pie and sucked it like a bilge pump. He sucked and 
lapped me so passionately that the noise of his slurping drowned out all 
the sounds of the woods. The sound was like a symphony of sex to my 
throbbing ears, and when the spasms of my orgasm began, it was all Jack and
Sammy could do to hold me. I felt like I was falling through space, 
whirling around that merciless tongue like a fragment of sexual debris 
orbiting some devilish black sun in the universe of Cunt.

I had hardly recovered when he stood up and rammed his cock into my 
sudsing slit. I held on to my carriers’ necks for dear life as he ravished 
me brutally, mauling my tits and chewing my nipples til they bled. But, Oh!
what sweet pain it was. How good it hurt!

I had mopped my crotch and toweled off my bush and was lying on the hood 
of my car again with my head propped up on the windshield, when Jack 
spotted the surveyors. Sammy was just about to mount me again, and I was 
ready, even though the camera had long since shut itself off.

“Hey, man, somebody’s coming!”

“Oh, shit!”

“Let’s get the fuck outa here. So long, baby, thanks for the pussy!”

And before I could say a word, they were roaring off down the road.

Without getting off the hood, I looked around for the source of the 
trouble. There at the far edge of the little field was the survey party I 
had seen out on the highway, but they weren’t coming, they were just 
watching. I knew they’d be here soon, though, now that I was alone.

I slid lazily off the car, pretending not to notice them, turned my bare 
behind on them and strolled into the woods. Once out of sight I jumped to 
the camera and hurriedly reloaded, hoping the surveyors couldn’t see me 
through their transit. Then I went back and stretched out on the stage 
again, this time on my belly with my face turned away from the watchers, as
though I were sunning myself. I didn’t have long to wait.

When I heard footsteps approaching, I closed my eyes. It seemed I could 
feel the heat of a lusting gaze adding to the sunny warmth of my naked ass.
Goose pimples of anticipation tingled down my slightly spread thighs and up
my spine as the footfalls stopped behind me. I knew without seeing the film
that the man was staring up my crotch.

Just when I thought I could stand it no longer and was about to roll over
and spread for him, he walked around the car and stood beside me.

“Hi there,” he said in a low voice.

I opened my eyes and said, “Oh!” closing my legs and pressing my elbows 
to my sides to cover my bulging breasts.

“What’s the matter, honey?” he said, brushing my blowing hair out of my 
face. “Did I scare you?”

“I don’t think there’s any place in this town a girl can sun herself in 
private,” I complained. “This is the second intrusion in an hour!”

“Yeah,” he says with a grin, “the boys and I watched that first 
‘intrusion’. You didn’t seem to mind so much.”

“What are you, a Peeping Tom? And what do you mean, ‘the boys’?”

“My survey crew. They’re kind of bashful. My name’s Jim, what’s yours?” I
didn’t answer. “We saw you drive by before,” he continued, “and haven’t got
a lick of work done since.”

“Haven’t you ever seen a girl before?” I asked.

“Yeah, but it’s been some time since we’ve seen one as pretty as you. 
Besides, what do you expect when you drive around dressed like that?”

“I was fully clothed, and if you’ll turn your back for a minute I’ll be 
that way again.”

“We like you better like this. Come on, roll over, you weren’t so bashful
a minute ago.”

“I’m not bashful,” I said, raising up on one elbow, and showing the front
of my body, “I just wanted a little privacy. Those other boys wouldn’t 
leave me alone until I let them make love to me.”

“Neither will we, baby,” he murmured, rolling me over on my back and 
covering my lips with his. I tried to remain limp to carry on the act, but 
his tongue turned me on, and my arms coiled automatically around his neck. 
When our mouths parted we were both breathless, and all pretense was 
dropped.

“You can call your boys over, if you want,” I panted in his ear.

He yelled at them as he slipped out of his shirt. “Come on, you guys!” I 
sat up and gave them a good profile of my tits, lifting my arms and running
my hands through my hair. They came stumbling into the paved circle with 
bulging eyes and red cheeks—a fat guy in his mid-twenties and a skinny kid.
Jim slipped his hands under my arms and cupped my breasts, jiggling them up
and down. “Ronnie, I want you to meet— ah… “

“Nadine,” I said.

“Nadine. This is Ronnie, and that’s David.”

Ronnie, the fat one, stepped up, the sight of my nakedness withering away
his shyness. “Hello there, Nadine.”

“Hi, Ronnie,” I said, arching my back and thrusting my right tit toward 
him. “Shake.”

He looked nervously at my breast. “Go ahead, Ron,” said Jim, “shake it.”

With a self-conscious chuckle Ron took my bruised nipple between his 
thumb and forefinger and gave it a gentle shake. Then the kid, David, 
followed suit; his fingers were hot and sweaty—not from the weather, I 
think. I couldn’t help giggling at the effect I was having on them. It was 
obvious they never dreamed of anything like this ever happening to them. It
was perverse of me, but to increase the kid’s shock and embarrassment, I 
said, “Want some pussy, David?” opening my legs and leaning back against 
Jim. David nodded, unable to speak, it appeared; but Jim turned me around 
toward him, massaging my upper thighs, and said, “Now wait a minute. The 
chief gets firsts, that’s a well-established rule in the survey world. 
Instrument man next, and the rod-man—that’s you, Dave—gets thirds. Wanta 
get in the car, honey?”

“No,” I said, “I want to stay in the sun. Sounds like this happens to you
guys all the time.”

“No—but we think about it a lot.”

I laughed as he stepped out of his work pants and stepped between my 
legs, nudging my slit with his straining cock. Gripping my waist, he pulled
me closer to him, and I raised up on my elbows, spreading my legs as wide 
as possible, to watch it go in. Ronnie and David watched too, crowding in 
close. The kid took off his pants and climbed up on the hood with me, while
Ronnie leaned against the bumper and stroked my hair with trembling 
fingers.

Jim crouched low, gripped my open thighs just above the knees, and began 
such a rapid pumping stroke that I cried out from sheer pleasure. The walls
of my vagina once more began their secretions, and so copious a quantity of
sex-honey was released that the excess, as the film showed, leaked from the
bottom of my split and spilled down the polished fender.

As this wonderful sunny fuck continued, first David, who sat between my 
head and the windshield, and then Ronnie, bent over my bosom and sucked on 
my stiff-tipped nipples. I normally have a little milk, because of the 
Enovid, but today my tits were unusually full, and once when I squeezed one
of them, a stream shot up into Ronnie’s face. He licked his lips and lapped
up what had spilled on my chest. That shot of milk somehow seemed to drown 
his inhibitions, and he clutched my tit in both of his thick-fingered hands
and began to suck and swallow with grunts of unrestrained passion. I 
couldn’t reach Ron’s fly, but David’s genitals were only inches from my 
face, so I spit in my hand and started jacking him off as he fondled me and
sucked my milk. His prick was so cute and delicious-looking, I just had to 
drink the cream that was going to come out of its mouth. I was suddenly 
obsessed with the desire to have come spurting into me at both ends—my cunt
and my mouth—at the same time. So I turned my face toward David and opened 
my mouth to give him the idea, and he got up on his hands and knees over my
head. Faster and faster I pumped his dick with my hand, just touching the 
dripping head, sometimes with my tongue, trying to feel when he was getting
close, and trying to control Jim’s timing with my cunt muscles. As for me, 
I had already come once, right at the beginning, and was already rising 
dangerously close to my second release.

The timing was perfect. As soon as Jim threw his head back and lurched 
into his orgasm, the sweet heavy cream started squirting out of David’s 
adorable prick. I opened my mouth wide and let it fill my cheeks, at the 
same time feeling my uterus tighten in explosive convulsions of ecstatic 
fire in response to the surging blasts of come from Jim’s penis, battering 
the mouth of my womb. Again my feeling of being “all cunt” was heightened 
to a delicious and excruciating summit as I lay there naked and writhing 
under the warm sky, the hot come filling and spilling at both ends of my 
body. It was even better than that, because Ron had not been able to 
restrain himself during this double intercourse, and instead of waiting his
turn at my crack he pulled out his prick and started masturbating. He shot 
at the same time the rest of us did, so that I got it not only up the cunt 
and down the throat but also in the armpit and all over the outer swell of 
my left titty.

Several pieces of ass later (which unfortunately I was not able to film) 
the three surveyors staggered off through the woods to get their truck. 
They were going to pick up their instruments and things and come back for 
more (“Fuck the job,” was Jim’s philosophy for the day), but as soon as 
they were out of sight I gathered up my camera and split.

I was ready for a warm shower and a hot dinner, while I plotted the 
evening’s excesses.

That night, Mother, I reached what you will probably consider an all-time
low, but which to me was only a new high in my search for erotic pleasure. 
I had always been fascinated by the idea of going into a public men’s room 
and taking on every man and boy that walked in. Have you ever had that 
urge? “Oh, horrors!” you say—how clearly I can hear you saying it. But I 
wonder, Mother, if the only difference between you and me isn’t just that I
admit and live out my erotic perversions, while you have kept yours to 
yourself and let them poison you. I admit that I am oversexed, even that I 
am a pervert, but I am a healthy and happy pervert, while you are a sour, 
hypocritical old bitch. Which is worse?

For this occasion I picked a dress which I had bought only a few days 
before—a see-through mini-shift of black gauze, decorated with dotted-line 
spirals and swirls of gold thread. It has—that is, it had—a little black 
lace ruffle around the hemline, the armholes and the scoop neckline. The 
pattern of gold threads concealed nothing. The dress was meant to be worn 
over a black slip, but I wore it over skin. At first I put on a pair of 
black lace bikini panties, but when I looked at myself in the mirror, I 
thought, “Fuck it, why not go all the way?” and pulled them off. That was 
better; everything was visible: My big white tits and pink nipples glowing 
through the gauze, my fuzzy blonde bush, shaped like a fat piece of pie, 
making a bulge in the material, the cheeks of my ass shining through like 
two moons behind a transparent veil of clouds, the deep crack between them 
and the winking dimples over them—everything. A pair of high-heeled sandals
on my feet, gold hoops in my ears, and I was ready. For anything.

I needed an accomplice, so I drove over to the Sago Beach seawall and sat
on a park bench facing the street, my legs crossed and my skirt in my lap.

There were the usual couples strolling the sidewalk or sitting on the 
seawall, as well as some prowling boys, who could not help me with what I 
had in mind, but it wasn’t long before a lone man came strolling up with an
experienced look in his eye and just one thing on his mind. He sat down 
beside me and slipped his arm around me.

“How much?” he asked, taking me for a whore on the make as I had 
intended.

I gave him a sexy side-glance, and said, “What’s it worth to you?”

He looked down at my body, rubbing his chin and trying to look calm and 
cool, but I heard the guttural “Goddamn!” in his throat as his eyes drank 
me in. In a forced business-like tone he said, “I’ll give you twenty-five 
bucks for an hour.”

“What!” I said, sliding away from him. “What do you think I am, a two-bit
whore?” Before he could answer, I broke into giggles. “Listen, my name’s 
Nadine, what’s yours?”

“Bill,” he replied.

“I’m sorry I led you on, Bill, but I’m not really a whore at all—that is 
not usually. Tonight I’m sort of a special kind of whore—an actress and a 
whore combined. If you’ll help me, I’ll give you a whole night with me free
of charge. Ha ha, I’m beginning to talk like a whore, aren’t I? Do you want
me to tell you about it?”

“I’m all ears.”

So I told him about the contest and what I wanted him to do.

“Could be dangerous,” he said. “But… sure, hell yes, I’ll do it!”

It was about nine—right around the time Paul was slipping it to Ellie, 
the barmaid’s daughter, in the front seat of her car—that I walked into 
Spinoza’s and sat down at the bar. The minute I walked into the darkened 
room, I felt the eyes on my naked tits as they jiggled inside the thin 
gauze, and on the bushy patch winking between my thighs —women’s eyes as 
well as men’s.

In fact, right behind my stool sat two girls who apparently couldn’t keep
from staring at my butt along with their boy friends. I could hear them 
whispering and tittering—“She doesn’t have a thing on under that dress!” 
and “She should be locked up!” And from the boys, “Jesus, look at that 
ass!” I was eating it up.

Bill and I had decided to come in separately so no one would have any 
inhibitions about me—it was to look like a pickup. In a few minutes he 
strolls in and takes the stool beside mine, the camera making only a slight
bulge in his coat pocket. The girls at the table took note when he turned 
my way and said, “Hey, baby, what’s happening?”

We sipped our beers and struck up a suggestive conversation, contrived 
but convincing—and stimulating to both of us, by the way. When he slipped 
his hand around my bar stool and rubbed his palm across the cheeks of my 
ass, I heard a feminine gasp from the table and murmuring cackles from some
of the men. I acted unconcerned and made no protest—just smiled at Bill and
sipped my beer.

After a few minutes of this rubbing I began to squirm from the heat 
generating between my legs, thinking of what those girls must be thinking 
and about the wanton things I was going to do tonight. Then Bill slid his 
hand up my back and began toying with my earring, lightly stroking my neck 
and inserting his fingers under the narrow ruffle on my shoulder between 
the neckline and the armhole of my dress. Gradually, a fraction of an inch 
at a time, he worked the ruffle off my shoulder. The dress had a very wide 
neck, and it fell limply down to my upper arm, the right side of the ruffle
dropping dangerously close to my nipple. The bartender neglected his 
customers and kept walking back and forth in front of me, peering not very 
discreetly over the bar at my tits swelling brazenly above the ruffle and 
at my nipples glowing vividly below it— barely below it.

I was so hot by this time that I did something I wouldn’t normally do—I 
like to show my body, but I’m not usually quite so shameless. I rotated my 
bar stool until I faced the couples at the table, put both elbows on the 
bar behind me, and crossed my legs. That is, I placed my right ankle on my 
left knee, pulling the ruffled hemline of my skirt up into my lap. This 
obscene position stretched the front of the dress so tightly across my tits
that every contour, every minute bump and line of my nipples was revealed; 
and by crossing my legs like that, I gave the four at the table an 
unobstructed view of my hairy pussy—which I could feel was beginning to 
ooze along the lips with excitement.

Bill and I continued talking, but I was concentrating on the reaction at 
the table. Out of the comer of my eye I saw one of the girls run away in 
disgust, tugging at her date’s arm. “Let’s go,” she whispered. “I’m not 
going to sit here and watch that!” But the boys weren’t about to leave yet.

Meanwhile, Bill was getting my profile, and it was getting to him. He was
getting impatient, and I was anxious to get on with it myself, but I was 
trying to get enough beer in me to build up my nerve. At one point in the 
conversation I began to giggle, leaning forward a little, and when I did 
that one of my nipples giggled right out of the top of my dress! I 
pretended not to notice it, and during that instant that I knew my naked 
nipple was jiggling in plain view of everyone, my clitoris—already swollen 
and stiff—began to twitch like crazy, all by itself! If I hadn’t pressed my
thighs together and mustered all my will power, I would have creamed myself
on the spot. Have you ever had a spontaneous orgasm, Mother? I had my first
when I was seventeen years old, watching my first fuck movie at a slumber 
party over at Jane Morgan’s house. Anyway, Bill tucked my nipple in for me,
and that started us giggling all over again. Bill could stand it no longer.
“I’m going to check things out,” he said, standing up. “Be right back.”

I turned around to the bar again and guzzled my beer like a good girl 
while he was gone. He returned ready for action.

“It’s perfect,” he whispered. “The place is all white tile, plenty of 
light. And there’s even a fairy hole just big enough for the lens in the 
side of the crapper. Still want to go through with it?” I nodded. “Okay, 
I’ll go on in and get set up. Come whenever you’re ready.” He pinched me on
the butt —“You nasty thing, you.”

I ordered one more beer and drank it almost in one gulp before I joined 
him. I put on a sexy hip-swinging strut as I passed through the tables 
toward the men’s room door, but my knees were shaking with anticipation. 
Bill, barricaded in the toilet stall, missed the beginning, where the first
man came in and saw me leaning against the wall beside the urinal, my dress
off both shoulders and down to the upper penumbras of my nipples. Bill had 
a little trouble with the camera, so in the first scene I was already on 
the floor with a big dick in my mouth, sucking away.

Only later, watching the film, did I see the second man—the big one—walk 
in while the first guy was still pumping it into me. If I had seen the leer
on his ape-like face as he crouched down behind my partner’s jerking 
buttocks and stared at the shaggy mouth between my legs, if I had realized 
in advance how huge and grotesque he was, I would probably have been afraid
in spite of being so strongly in heat. As it was, I didn’t get a good look 
at him until after the other one had tucked his prick back into his pants 
and backed off sort of apologetically as I swallowed the last drop and 
licked my lips. Then the big drunk was looming over me, and I couldn’t have
escaped it I’d wanted to—which I didn’t, not really.

His fat lips were hanging open and he drooled on my dress as he bent over
and shoved my back against the wall, almost losing his footing. If he had 
fallen on me, I’d have been killed. Trying to prevent what might develop 
into a brutal rape, I said in a seductive voice, “Want me to suck your 
dick, honey?”

He grunted and began laughing as his hands mauled my tits and clutched at
my cunt. Then he said, “Le’s see whut yuh got in thar,” and he ripped my 
dress open down the front, from neck to hem, laying my body bare in the 
bright white fluorescence. He stood up, staring down at me, and clumsily 
took out his cock. When I saw it, I gasped —half in horror, half in 
delight. It was at least as big around as my arm and, even soft, must have 
hung almost to his knees! No wonder he was so depraved and perverted: With 
a dick like that he wouldn’t have been able to fuck anything but a horse, 
without killing it.

Luckily for me, though, he had no intention of sticking that monster in 
my belly; he had another kick, Holding me down with one hand, he grabbed 
his cock in the other and started pissing on me. I thought the gushing 
stream of urine would never stop. It ran down between my tits and filled my
navel, leaking out over my belly and running between my legs, while he 
giggled insanely and drunkenly, his drool mixing with his water. Later that
night when I asked Bill why he didn’t come out and help me, he said. “What!
and get killed? Besides, a good cameraman always stays with his camera.”

So the whole thing was recorded on film. I must admit, Mother, to a 
certain erotic pleasure at being given such a vile baptism—I mean, it was 
pleasurable, if that’s the word, just because it was so vile.

Anyway, after he had thoroughly drained his bladder on me, he grabbed me 
by the hair and forced his dripping bludgeon into my mouth. Nothing would 
go in but the head, but that was enough to bring him off. Even Peter had 
not pumped that much come down my throat. I almost lost consciousness. I 
felt it was running out my eyes and ears, my cunt and my asshole, seeping 
from the pores of my skin, filling my lungs as well as my stomach! I 
couldn’t pull my mouth away, because he held me so tightly; there was 
nothing to do but swallow as fast as I could and hope my cheeks wouldn’t 
burst.

Finally, he was finished and I lay gasping for breath as he staggered 
backward, still laughing, and collapsed against the far wall. He slumped 
sideways, fell under the lavatory and passed out with a broad grin spread 
across his face.

In a moment another prick was nudging at my lips, and I opened up and 
sucked it almost unconsciously. During most of the rest of it I was in a 
kind of sex trance, aware not so much of the character and size of each 
penis that entered my mouth as of the general sensation of the bizarre and 
long-dreamed of circumstances—sitting naked on the cold tile floor of a 
men’s restroom, the men standing in line to defile me, to shoot their semen
into my mouth, squeezing my tits and fingering my crack. And the 
realization that it was all being filmed at close range increased these 
shameless sensations to a level of excruciating, dream-like ecstasy.

Altogether I sucked off twenty men there on the pissy floor beside the 
urinal: A record, at least for me. After number twenty stepped back, the 
ape man, who had slept like a baby through it all, suddenly came to life 
again. But I wasn’t afraid any more; by that time I’d have taken on King 
Kong without batting an eye.

With a grunt and a shake of the head he opened his pants and kicked them 
off his legs without standing up. His cock was hard again, twitching and 
jumping and standing bolt upright, a gigantic tower of throbbing flesh. He 
crawled toward me, knocking several other men aside. He grabbed me by the 
ankle and dragged me to him, flopping over on his back. I was as drunk on 
come as he was on liquor, and we both lurched and rolled about on the floor
trying to get into position. I wanted that thing in me now, I wanted it 
bad—I needed a good fucking to revive me. I finally got astraddle his hairy
hips (he had pubic hair from knees to bellybutton) and squatted down on 
that massive club, thrilling to the feel of it battering its way into my 
juicy hole. I felt my pelvis expanding, the walls of my uterus clinging to 
every ridge and vein of his member as tightly as a condom. Bill says I 
yelped like a puppy through the whole fucking, but I don’t remember that. 
My mind was between my legs, and I had at last succeeded in entering that 
state toward which I had been building all day: the state of being pure 
Cunt, impaled and mindless, flapping on a live dick, and drifting off on a 
surging sea of endless climaxes.

After that, Bill came out and gave me a good swabbing off with paper 
towels and sent one of the men out for a shot of brandy. Soon I was revived
and on my feet, talking and laughing with the guys. Some of them complained
that they hadn’t had their turn yet, but I said I’d have to catch them next
time.

My dress being ripped to shreds, I had nothing to wear out of the bar, so
Bill took off his coat, saying, “Here, wrap up in this. A little ass’ll 
show, but you’ll be covered better than when you came in.”

I started to put it on, but then thought better of it; why waste a chance
for one more bit of juicy footage? “Fuck it,” I said, handing back the 
coat. “Turn the movie light on and follow me out. We’ll be in the car 
before anybody can recover from the shock. Ready?”

“Nadine,” he says, shaking his head, “you’re something else… Okay, go 
ahead. I’m right behind you, but I hope there aren’t any cops out there. 
Wait a minute, we might as well make it good. Let me go out first, so I can
get the front view as you come out the door.”

“Good idea,” I said, and out he goes. We had no trouble from the men in 
the bathroom, because they never realized that they had been filmed, and 
while at first there were a few cries of “Hey, what’s going on?” when Bill 
flipped on the light and started shooting the men’s room door, as soon as I
walked out the protests ceased and everyone seemed to forget about the man 
with the camera. Maybe they thought we were professional moviemakers, 
shooting a film on location or something.

As for the guys who had gotten blown and then returned to their tables, 
many of them cheered and applauded when I stepped out into the lounge, 
wearing nothing but my high-heeled sandals and a pair of earrings. Some of 
the boys pinched my butt and grabbed my tits as I walked by, and I let them
do it, smiling pleasantly. I walked right up to the table of the two 
couples we had shocked while sitting at the bar. Meanwhile, I had sucked 
off both the boys, of course. The girls stared with disbelief as I stopped 
in front of the one who had been so repulsed by my appearance. I smiled 
down at her, cocking one hip and scratching my pussy with a fingernail. 
“What you need, honey,” I said, “is a good stiff dick.” And I turned my 
bare ass on her and walked out the door, bathed in the light from the 
camera. As I walked the half-block to the car—not hurriedly, but just as if
I were fully clothed—people stopped and stared and brakes squealed, but we 
made it, and Bill captured the entire thing on film. He jumped in the car, 
laughing like hell, and we got away clean.

CHAPTER TWELVE

“Wow.”

That was the only comment during the first few moments after we turned 
the lights on. John was now squeezed into the chair beside Peggy, one hand 
down the front of her dress and the other on her leg. “That was some flick,
Tits,” he said, “some kinda flick.”

“Yeah,” said Jimmy, “but she had one hell of an advantage over us, man. I
mean, if I was a broad—”

“Now wait a minute, you guys,” I said, “let’s see what the judge says. 
How about it, Sis?”

Peggy was breathless—either from the movie or from John’s hands, or 
both—and it was a moment before she answered. “That one… that last one. Oh,
I think I had an accident watching it. I liked them all, you guys, but I 
liked the last one the best.”

There was some grumbling, but no one contested the decision. In fact, 
they all agreed with it.

“But now we got the problem of who gets the prize,” Paul said. “We didn’t
figure on you being in on this, Nadine.”

“I don’t see any problem,” I said in a suggestive voice, standing up and 
slipping out of my dress. God, it had been torture waiting all this time 
for sex, watching all those tongue-hardening movies. No one, least of all 
me, wanted to delay the action any longer. It was almost time for us to go 
to work —the boys and me—but nobody gave a shit about that.

After a few “Oho”s and “Aha”s from the boys, Peggy asked, “Now will 
somebody please tell me what the prize is?”

Jimmy and Paul both sat down at Peggy’s feet and put their hands on her 
knees, while John unzipped the back of her dress and peeled it down off her
plump ripe titties.

“You are,” said Jimmy. “You’re the prize.”

She said, “Oh,” in a very small voice, her eyelids fluttering with erotic
excitement as John lifted one of her breasts from her bra and fastened his 
lips on the puffy pink nipple.

“And I’m the winner,” I said, letting my bra fall to the floor.

Peggy got shakily to her feet, her tit still hanging out, gleaming with 
saliva in the soft light. We looked into each other’s eyes while the boys 
pulled her dress down and unhooked her bra. “Oh, Nadine, I’m so hot—I’ve 
never been so hot… I want to do all those things we saw—oh!” Someone had 
put his hand between her legs from behind and cupped her fuzzy pussy. Her 
pants were already off. Just that light touch set her body undulating, her 
belly twitching. I’d never seen her so hot.

“You will, honey,” I said, “all those things and more. But first I’m 
gonna eat that sweet little pussy of yours like it’s never been eaten 
before.”

And with that we both sank to the floor, our mouths locked together in a 
searing, sucking kiss that boiled our blood. I rolled on top of her and 
sucked her lovely pink nipples until their knobs were ridged and each 
aureole spread over half the breast. She panted and moaned and writhed as 
my tongue traveled down her torso, filling her soft deep navel with hot 
spittle, and lapping slowly along the V-shaped pattern of golden down that 
leads over her belly and ends at her mound, where it flowers into a lacy 
foliage of golden curls, damp with sexual leakage. When my tongue touched 
her clitoris, she shuddered all over with pleasure and clutched frantically
at the cheeks of my ass, pulling them toward her face. I plunged my tongue 
deep into her slit, nuzzling her delicate anus with my nose, as she 
frantically spread my thighs and buried her face in my foaming bush, 
slurping and lapping hungrily and driving me insane with ecstasy!

We clutched each other’s buttocks and came at the same time, lurching and
writhing with joy, my tits grinding into the soft yielding flesh of her 
belly, and hers into mine, the hot spray flying about our mouths and cunts…

See how well I’m taking care of your little girl, Mama? But except for 
that first “breakfast of love,” I didn’t hog my prize. Share and share 
alike is my motto. So I made no protest when John lay down on the rug 
beside Peggy after we had finished. He stroked her breasts and pressed his 
hips against her behind.

Sis and I were lying on our sides, facing each other, our knees 
interlocked and our hands playing over the other’s body. John was now 
fucking her from behind, a hand on each tit, and it was strange, looking 
into her blue eyes while a big greasy dick was sliding in and out of her 
pussy, where my tongue had been a moment before. Watching Peggy is almost 
like watching myself—we look so much alike; I love Peggy, sexually and as a
sister too, but it may be that I love myself more. I mean, when I am making
love to Peggy, I sometimes get the wild feeling that I have stepped into a 
magic looking glass, that I am not licking my sister’s slit at all, but my 
own—eating myself, biting my own tits, kissing my own lips, licking my own 
asshole… A strange feeling, narcissistic of course, maybe in the 
extreme—but I find myself loving others more since Peggy has come to live 
with us, since having this experience of sexual self-love outside the realm
of onanism. I mean to say that I am not greedy and mean and selfish like 
you, but just the opposite. Haven’t I left you and all your money and 
society and all that shit? Haven’t I told you to take your money and shove 
it up your ass for safe keeping? I believe it’s like this: You hate 
yourself and so you hate everybody else, while in my case, the more I love 
myself, the more I love everyone.

While John was screwing Sis from behind, Paul slithered up behind me and 
began a similar operation, only instead of sticking it into my cunt, he 
bullied it into my rectum and went to work. And so Peggy and I lay there 
with our faces together, sometimes touching tongues, but mostly just gazing
into each other’s eyes, watching with a sort of passionate and erotic 
objectivity for facial reactions to the phallic bodies going in and out 
between our legs. Sometimes we talked…

“Are you getting it?”

“Mmhmm!”

“Where?”

“In my pussy—where you kissed me… “

“Does it feel good?”

“Oh yes, oh God… Is he fucking you?”

“Yes… in the ass.”

“Good?”

“Mmmmm!”

“Oh, oh, I… I’m going to come—!”

“Me too… ooooooeeee—!”

“AHNG! AHNG! AHNG! uh uh uh!… “

“Nn, nn, nn, uhn-uhn-uhn… “

Your loving daughter, Nadine

P.S.—Write soon.


THE END
