Nympho
by Stephen Melton
GSX-222


CHAPTER ONE 

FATAL FUCK 

Dean Joslin flung his luggage into the trunk of the car, slammed down the 
lid, and began to stride toward the driver's seat. His wife, Evelyn, 
restrained him. "Let me drive, dear," she suggested. "Business trips always 
seem to wear you down so. You look beat!" 

Even as Evelyn was maneuvering the car out of the airport parking lot, Dean 
sank to the floor beside her and began to fumble with her dress. Sensing 
what he was about, she lifted her body and allowed him to shove her skirt 
above her hips. Kneeling there on the floor, Dean eagerly separated her 
legs. He delved his fervent tongue into the soft, furry cup between her 
thighs-a cup filled to the brim now with intoxicating, aromatic juices! 

Keeping a careful eye on the road as she drove, Evelyn scissored apart her 
golden, satiny legs to receive his questing tongue. "Oh Dean, Dean," she 
moaned, "if you only knew how much I wanted that! I know it's only been two 
days, darling, but it's been like two days in the desert without water! I 
wanted your cock, your fingers, your tongue ... yes, yes, lick me down 
there, my darling! Fuck me with that stiff tongue of yours!" 

Her ecstasy mounting, Evelyn frantically unbuttoned her dress all the way 
down the front, loving the rush of cool, clean air on her breasts and belly, 
welcoming the contrast with Dean's hot, laving mouth. As the fire within 
spread from her pussy to her asshole and nipples, she cried for Dean's mouth 
to extinguish it. Bucking her body frenziedly, she rammed one knee up 
against the dashboard while she strained to spread her legs even farther. 
The eager forward thrusting of her hips was an invitation to Dean's mouth 
and nose to roam at will ... to plunder and spread havoc at will through the 
mysterious, brush-overgrown valley where pulpy, warm quicksands threaten to 
engulf the unwary male. 

Evelyn reached down her right hand and mussed his hair while Dean grunted 
and slavered like a starved animal over the rich feast spread beneath his 
chin. "God," she murmured, "it's almost worth it, losing you to those stupid 
conventions for a couple of days if it means rediscovering one another like 
this when you return!" By now, Dean had actually plunged his face beneath 
her pussy. His cheek glued to the seat, his tongue roamed the glistening 
furrow between twat and asshole. She was almost sitting on his head. 

"Oh what heaven this is," Evelyn cooed, "having you give it to me like this 
right out here on the highway in the middle of traffic with everyone 
looking-and no one seeing!" She scooped her tits out of the open front of 
her dress and dropping a gob of spit on each nipple, commenced to caress and 
mangle her luscious boobs with her free hand. 

"I wish everyone could see you feeding on me," Evelyn declared with mounting 
fervor. "I wish everyone could see how my strong, wonderful, hard-tongued 
husband had to have his wife's delicious home-packed box lunch even though 
they fed him on the plane. What did they feed you, darling? Swiss steak? 
Fried chicken? Hot pussy? Did the stewardess yank her dress up in front of 
you and let you nibble at her conceited cunt right there in front of all the 
passengers? Bring your tongue a little higher, Dean ... yes, that's right. 
Oh, darling, darling, make your tongue like a hard, mean cock! I'm coming 
... I'm coming...." 

A torrent of fresh juice swept down the dark valley as her body jerked and 
trembled in the throes of orgasm. For a couple of minutes there was no sound 
in the car except Evelyn's deep breathing as her passion canned, and the 
sound of Dean's tongue greedily lapping the goodness between her legs. At 
last he raised himself from the floor and fell back in his seat. 

"Wow," he breathed softly, "that was the best box lunch I've put away in 
many a month." 

"Even better than the stewardess'?" Evelyn pouted, her attention once more 
entirely on the road. She raised her beautifully contoured ass and swept her 
skirts beneath it. 

"I have a confession," Dean grinned. "I didn't eat the stewardess. I drank 
her. She bent over in front of me and these big boobs came tumbling right 
out the front of her blouse. So naturally-" 

"Wipe your mouth," Evelyn suggested, giggling. "Your chin is still 
dripping!" 

Dean pulled out a handkerchief and mopped his mouth and chin. "You really 
were wet down there this time," he remarked. "It was like lapping up a 
custard that hasn't quite set. Next time I'm going to wear a bib!" 

"Is that an objection?" she queried haughtily. 

"Darling, have I ever objected to anything?" Dean wanted to know. 

"Come to think of it, no," she replied after a moment's cheerful reflection. 
"We certainly do get along well, I've got to admit that." 

"Speaking of getting along," Dean remarked, glancing out the window, "we 
don't seem to be getting much of anywhere right now. What the hell's holding 
up traffic, do you suppose?" They had entered a long vehicular tunnel. 
Traffic was solid before and behind them. An occasional car passed in the 
opposite direction. They sat there; minutes dragged by. 

"This really frosts me!" Dean grumbled. "If this had happened on the road, 
we could at least get out and stretch our legs. Here though, there's not a 
frigging thing we can do." 

"There's something else we could stretch," Evelyn observed pertly. 

"Oh? What's that?" 

"Your dick." She unzipped him, ran her hand inside his pants and scooped out 
his sweating, half-hard sausage. "Look dear," she said earnestly, "if we 
keep low in our seat no one can possibly see us. Let me satisfy you. Let me 
french your cock. I know you're dying for it." She darted out her livid, 
quicksilver tongue and tickled the head of his rod, removing a sparkling 
drop of pre-come that had oozed out while he was eating her. 

"Oh boy, that would be heaven," he declared. "I mean, two whole days without 
you, Evelyn, and my cream is backed all the way up into my tonsils. At least 
that's what it feels like. It wasn't so bad for the other salesmen. They 
were picking stuff up in bars right and left and bringing it back to their 
rooms. But you and I have always been faithful to one another and I don't 
intend to start whoring around now. But it is hard, sometimes!" 

"It gets very hard sometimes," Evelyn remarked innocently, squeezing his 
prong until the head stood out, a huge purple knob, like a lethal weapon in 
her clutching fingers. Now it was her turn to slide to the floor. Sitting, 
rather than kneeling, she lay her cheek on the seat cushion and glancing 
wide-eyed at her husband, said softly, "Fuck me in the mouth, dear." 

Dean trembled in his eagerness to comply. Propping his body sidewise, he 
slipped his straining organ into Evelyn's gaping mouth. He moved his hips 
very slowly at first, enjoying to the utmost the mere immersion of his 
nervously twitching organ in the pool of warm, loving wetness, the soft, 
lizard-like tongue rising occasionally to stroke the bulging underside of 
his cock, to lift it and mash it tenderly against the palate or to nudge it 
gently into the softness of her cheek. 

In time, as he felt his sperm begin to simmer deep within his balls, Dean 
commenced to make his thrusts more insistent, deeper, more passionate. He 
took Evelyn's head in one hand and stroked it as he whispered, "Suck me now, 
darling. Make your mouth into a pussy and hold my dick tight. My cock has 
found a home between your lips, that's where it wants to stay. I'm glad 
we're stuck in this tunnel, Evelyn. I'm glad we didn't have to wait until we 
got all the way home for you to french me. There's nothing in the world more 
wonderful than this-I'd be willing to stay here the rest of the night, just 
sucking and eating ... sucking and eating ... that's right, darling, suck 
hard! Yes, yes, I can see your cheeks are hollow, you're really straining to 
drink me dry, aren't you? Strain hard, lover, strain hard ... Oh Jesus...." 

Dean's pants had fallen down around his knees and he was slamming his hips 
into Evelyn's face with truly maniacal frenzy, his balls audibly slapping 
against her chin, sweat beads starting out all over his crotch and running 
down his thighs. His face was contorted as if in agony. He literally 
screamed when he came and for a full two minutes later he continued to ease 
his rubbery-firm dick in and out of her mouth. 

Evelyn merely lay there patiently, her head still on its side. She had done 
her best to swallow the scalding gush of Dean's scum as it erupted in her 
mouth, but some still oozed, a pearly white trickle, from a comer of her 
lips. At length, her husband's soft tool fell out of its own accord and he 
collapsed onto his seat. Evelyn, her hair, makeup, and dress a shambles, 
dragged herself back behind the wheel. "Oh shit!" she moaned, "traffic's 
starting to move again. No time for seconds." She patted Dean's cheek as she 
placed the car in motion. "Never mind, sweet. Wait'll we get home. Then 
we'll really make the dishes rattle!" 

Dean spoke only in fatigued whispers the rest of the way home. As they 
stepped inside, he said, "I think I'll shower and lie down, dear. Call me in 
half an hour, will you? I swear, I've never felt so exhausted!" He hailed 
their son, Ken, who was sitting on the sofa watching television. Then he 
walked slowly upstairs. 

Evelyn began to prepare dinner. When she had gotten things well under way, 
she told Ken, "Call Daddy, will you? He's probably dozed off in bed. You 
know he likes to rest before dinner." Ken ran upstairs two steps at a time. 
A moment later he was back. 

His lips trembled as he said, "Mother, you better come upstairs and have a 
look at Dad. I shook him several times and he didn't move. I-I think 
something's wrong!" 

Her heart pounding, Evelyn flew to the bedroom. She took one look at Dean, 
then phoned Dr. Clyne on the bedroom extension. The doctor arrived fifteen 
minutes later. He felt Dean's pulse, put a stethoscope to his chest, then 
shook his head. His eyes were grave as he glanced silently at Evelyn. 

"Doctor!" Evelyn cried. "You don't mean he's-he's-" 

The doctor patted her arm. "It was a peaceful way to go," he assured her. 
"He never knew what happened." When pressed as to the cause of Dean's death, 
Dr. Clyne said an autopsy would be necessary. 

The following three days were a nightmare for both Evelyn and Ken as they 
struggled to make funeral arrangements and tie up the loose ends of their 
lives. Everything would be different now that Dean was gone. They knew that. 
But just how different, neither could have dreamed! 

The day after the funeral, Evelyn consulted with Dr. Clyne once more. "The 
autopsy leaves us no room for doubt," he reported. "It was a heart attack. 
His heart was in very poor shape. He was a classic cardiac case. I'm 
surprised he never came to me about it. Didn't he ever complain of weakness, 
or numbness in the arm?" 

"Well yes, but we didn't really think it was serious." 

The doctor frowned. "He has lots of company," he said. "Many a man with a 
weak heart is walking around just begging for trouble-working like a demon, 
drinking like a fish, trying to have intercourse every night-" 

"Oh dear!" Evelyn cried. 

The physician stopped short. "What's the matter?" he asked. 

"Do you think that nightly intercourse is too frequent for a heart patient?" 
Evelyn inquired fearfully. "I must tell you, doctor, that 

Dean and I always practiced it at least twice a night. Sometimes even more 
frequently. Now, I can't help wondering-" 

Dr. Clyne shrugged. "Some patients can enjoy a very satisfactory sex life," 
he declared, "but they have to use a certain amount of common sense. If a 
heart case keeps his sexual contacts down to one or two a week and goes 
about it in a calm, unhurried manner, there's really no danger, usually. 
It's these people who have to have it several times a night and throw 
themselves into a frenzy while they're about it who are headed for real 
trouble!" 

Evelyn stared into her lap without speaking. 

The physician became noticeably more kindly as he went on: "Did-did you and 
Mr. Joslin have intercourse the day of the tragedy?" 

There were tears in Evelyn's eyes as she replied. "Yes. Yes, we did. And we 
pretty well knocked ourselves out in the process. We-we always did that. Oh, 
Dr. Clyne-I feel like a murderer! When I think of how often I tempted Dean 
into bed, I just feel sick! I was killing him by slow degrees! Oh God, if 
I'd only realized-" 

Dr. Clyne restrained her firmly. "That's something we don't know," he 
insisted. "I forbid you to think that way. In the first place, you were 
absolutely unaware of Mr. Joslin's condition. Secondly, we have no proof 
that sexual intercourse was actually responsible for his death. It could 
have been a partial cause, that's all I'm saying. Please, don't ever think 
of yourself as in any way guilty. Promise me that!" 

Evelyn promised, with a wan smile. But as she left the physician's office, 
she told herself over and over, if only I hadn't been so eager! If only I 
had been a little more restrained-Dean could be alive today! 

She went home and tried to occupy her mind in the thousand and one details 
that had to be taken care of now that she and her son were alone in the 
world. There were insurance matters, little odds and ends of Dean's business 
affairs, bills to be paid, and many others. Fortunately, Dean had left her 
handsomely provided for, financially speaking, so she had no worries on that 
score. But how was she to get through her days and nights without a loving 
husband? 

Especially the nights. When she left Dr. Clyne that morning, Evelyn was as 
nearly convinced as a human can be that it would be a very long time before 
sex could claim even the slightest interest for her. From now on, she would 
always associate sex with tragedy, she was certain. 

But that very same evening as she sat watching television long after Ken had 
gone to bed, she felt the old familiar fire flaring within her. The movie 
she was watching on the late show was a simple, plain-spun romance that had 
nothing erotic about it whatsoever. Yet Evelyn's mind colored it with all 
sorts of carnal implications. 

As the hero and heroine seated themselves on a front porch swing and a banjo 
began to plunk dreamily somewhere off in the distance, Evelyn found herself 
murmuring under her breath, "Go ahead, you fool, fuck her! What are you 
being so slow for? Who needs all this long talk? Why don't you show her how 
you really love her? Run your hands up under her dress and make her spread 
her thighs a little. That's what she really wants! Slide your hand inside 
her panties ... feel her pussy ... I'll bet it's sopping wet! She's creaming 
for you, you jerk, and you're too stupid to realize it! Oh my God, look-he's 
kissing her. On the lips of all places! Get down on your knees and kiss her 
where she wants it. She wants your mouth on her itching twat! How long are 
you going to make her wait?" 

Then Evelyn turned her attention to the heroine. "Encourage him, you little 
fool," she muttered to the demurely clad young actress. "Show him your tits. 
Grab his cock-it's dark-no one will see you! Why don't you enjoy what you 
have while you still have it? He won't always be there with you on that 
front porch, he'll go away someday as my man did. Why can't you see there's 
no time to be lost? It he's timid, you have to be bold. Take his hand and 
put it on your ass. Talk dirty to him. Lie down on that porch swing ... make 
him lie down on top of you. Unfasten his belt. Slide his pants down and help 
him take out his dick...." 

Ken could not sleep. Immediately after going to bed that night he had dozed 
off into an uneasy, dream-torn slumber, then awakened after an hour to he 
staring at the ceiling. The suddeness of recent events had shaken him to the 
core. He could not imagine what life could possibly be like without his 
father and he dreaded the future. 

After a time he sat up in bed and looked at the alarm clock. Only half-past 
twelve! Maybe if he had something hot to drink he'd feel more like sleeping. 
Barefoot, he stumbled out of his room and made for the stairs. He was only 
part way down when he realized something unusual was occuring. 

Oh God, what was wrong with his mother? He had never seen her like this 
before. She had thrown off her robe and was kneeling naked on the floor in 
front of the television screen. In the flickering, cold light from the 
screen he could see her face was agonized, her nude body streaming with 
sweat. Both hands were wedged between her legs and though that part of her 
body was in shadow, he knew well what she was doing to herself. "Fuck me," 
she moaned, her eyes glaring from under half-closed lids, "come down off 
that screen and stick it to me hard! That stupid little nobody you're in 
love with won't do you any good. A good-night kiss on the front porch is all 
you'll get from her! No, no, darling, look at me! I want your cock between 
my legs, I want your hands on my breasts, I want you to grab my ass and 
squeeze it till I scream!" 

Shocked, Ken paused in mid-step. He gulped, watched for another minute just 
to convince himself that this was really happening and that he hadn't lost 
his mind, then turned and went silently back to his room. 

So that's how it was for adults! He had never seen a naked woman before in 
his entire life and the sight of one clawing at herself while moaning the 
vilest obscenities made him think deeply. It was like opening a door to a 
whole new world of joys and passions and delights that made everything he 
had known previously seem like yesterday's warmed-over oatmeal. 

So that's what it was like to be an adult. That's what a naked woman looked 
like. That's what they did to themselves, bare, gasping, slavering! He could 
not banish from his mind the sight of Evelyn kneeling on the rug, shaking 
the delectable fullness of her ass like a whip. 

Even if it was his own mother. Lying there atop the bed with the covers 
thrown back, he felt his dick harden suddenly. There was a quick, ecstatic 
throb, then he felt the cream gush out over his belly. 

 CHAPTER TWO 

LEWD LITERATURE 

Evelyn slept late the next morning. As she drifted slowly into wakefulness 
and began to remember how she had let a mere shadow on the television screen 
reduce her to gibbering near-insanity, she felt deeply ashamed and a blush 
flared across her face. 

I won't do that again, she resolved. It-it was just a reaction from the 
worry and strain of the last few days! I needed a physical outlet for my 
emotions and a silly old movie on the late show somehow made everything 
crystallize. In a way, she was glad it had happened. Because it had brought 
her face to face with the problem that had been haunting her in the back of 
her mind even since that dreadful evening she found she had lost Dean. The 
problem was simply this: how was she to occupy her time from now on? 

Certainly she was not obliged to rush out and find a job. Between insurance, 
bonds, and other investments, she had enough money to handle her needs for 
quite a number of years. Should she engage in charitable work? Should she 
find an all-consuming hobby that would leave her no time for morbid 
thoughts? As a girl she had been very much interested in painting. 

And there was a time in college when she had been certain she wanted to be a 
writer. 

The more she reflected, the more she convinced herself that now was the time 
to pick up the loose threads of her life and find out what she was really 
good for. Since she hadn't painted or done any serious writing for years, 
she decided to go down to the public library that very day and pick up a 
half-dozen books on each subject. 

What to wear? She grimaced as she faced her closetful of clothes. There was 
no question about the color: as a recent widow she could only wear black. 
Black dress. Black straw hat. Black shoes. In a sudden gesture of rebellion, 
she suddenly blurted, "Hell! I'll conform on the outside, but I'm damned if 
I'll conform underneath!" 

Feeling splendidly defiant, she ripped off the panties, bra, and slip she 
had already donned and slipped the black dress over her abundantly endowed, 
sleek, bare body. Then she put on her hat and shoes and surveyed herself in 
the full-length mirror. 

No question about it-she made a beautiful widow. Even if she was all of 
thirty-three years old, she still had the slimmest waist on the block ... 
lush flaring hips ... two bosomy knobs that strained and threatened to burst 
from the confines of her tight frock ... legs that swirled from ankle to ass 
in one continuous, perfect curve. 

She worried for just a moment as she stared at her reflection. Shouldn't she 
have worn a bra? Couldn't the dark haloes around her nipples be seen through 
the thin fabric? Then she turned her back to the mirror. Wasn't the crack 
between her magnificent ass-globes a bit too noticeable? Without panties or 
girdle, didn't it jut and jiggle too brazenly when she walked? She strode up 
and down before the mirror. Heavens, her feminine endowments certainly were 
not bashful! They seemed to bob, wiggle, bounce, and jitter with a will of 
their own. 

Never mind! That's how she was built and that's what people would see! If 
the younger women could get away with it, so could she. It wasn't as if she 
had to retire to a nunnery just because her husband had passed away. 

At the library she spent a good many minutes in her choice of books. There 
were not as many on the arts as she had hoped for; she had to be content 
with two on the subject of painting and three on "How to write a short 
story," but that was enough for a start. Then, feeling she might do well to 
take along something in a lighter vein-a novel, or biography, or book of 
essays, for example-she began to explore further. 

It had been years since Evelyn had investigated much beyond the cookbooks 
and decorating manuals. Apparently the library had made many additions 
recently. There was a whole new wing at the back. At the very end of the new 
wing she found a room filled with a queer jumble of books. She gathered that 
a wealthy person had bequeathed his entire collection to the library-there 
were volumes on exploration ... science ... sex.... 

She had to smile at seeing books on sex displayed so openly. When she was a 
girl, such books had been securely locked up behind glass. They could be 
examined only on special application to the stern faced spinster librarian 
whose manner said plainly: "You shouldn't!" Evelyn glanced casually at some 
of the titles, then went on to peruse an art folio. 

She hardly noticed when a man entered the room and began, like herself, to 
look through the shelves at random. It was not until he halted at the 
section containing the sex books and began to examine them with persistent 
interest that she really fastened her attention on him. He was a man in his 
mid to late thirties, conservatively dressed and with a gentlemanly manner. 
Evelyn's heart skipped a beat as she noted the obvious and growing bulge in 
his pants. Heavens, she thought, he can't be getting much if he's excited by 
merely flipping through a book! Still though, there's no telling what 
precisely he was looking at. Maybe there were illustrations! Maybe-maybe it 
was one of those books that actually showed photos of people screwing in all 
the various positions! 

She just had to see what was stimulating him so. Edging as near as she 
dared, Evelyn glanced at the open book from the comer of her eye. What she 
saw! Someone-a borrower perhaps-has slipped a large, five by eight photo 
between the pages of the book. And what a photo! It showed an ardent young 
blonde who couldn't have been a day over eighteen accepting the favors of 
three different males at once. She was kneeling over a young man who, lying 
flat on his back, was smilingly ramming her vagina with his huge erect cock. 
At the same time, another male-a heavy brutish looking fellow, was thrusting 
his dong up her prettily curved ass. Finally, the girl was ardently sucking 
the prick of the man who stood grinning immediately in front of her! 

Evelyn swallowed. A kind of red mist seemed to cover her vision, then it 
faded. Getting down on one knee beside the man, she pretended to be 
interested in scanning the titles on the bottom-most shelf. She took only a 
moment. When she rose to a half-stooped position, her dress had become 
bunched up well above her knees, almost to her crotch. Still stooped over, 
her breathtakingly sinuous rear end thrust brazenly up into the air, she 
pretended to examine the books on the third shelf very closely. "Oh dear," 
she murmured, as if to herself, "I really do need my glasses...." In her 
apparent efforts to see better, she placed her hands on her knees and 
squirmed slightly. This had the effect of drawing her skirt up so far that 
her ass shone, clearly visible. At the same time, of course, her thighs were 
completely disclosed, making it evident how tightly they fleshed out her 
stocking tops and how deeply her garters bit into the soft, smoothly shaven 
skin. Her legs were planted wide apart on their high heels to show how 
plainly, even from the rear, Evelyn's lavish shock of glossy, brown 
pussyhair. 

From this exaggerated posture, Evelyn could not, naturally, see what the man 
was doing behind her. But she could see, by turning her head ever so 
slightly, how his cock strained and jerked spontaneously inside his pants 
leg. Still pretending to talk only to herself, Evelyn invented an imaginary 
list of titles: "What strange books they put out nowadays," she murmured. 
'"The Art of Masturbation' ... 'Bigger Breasts Attract the Male' ... 
'Mouth-Genital Contact-Is It in Good Taste? ... 'Sodomy Won't Hurt You...." 

Evelyn shammed impatience. "Heavens, what formal language!" she blurted in 
an undertone. "Why don't they come right out and say what they mean? 
'Mouth-Genital Contact' indeed! Why don't they just say 'cocksucking' and 
'pussylapping' and be done with it! And what do they mean, 'Sodomy Won't 
Hurt You'? Good Lord, I'd never want anybody shoving his cock up my ass 
again!" 

Evelyn was silent a moment, wondering if her words had had a chance to sink 
in. She was not left in doubt long. A deep thrill crackled through her as 
she felt the man's tentative fingers glide gently over her upswelling, 
protuberant ass and heard him say tremulously, "After all, these books are 
written by a lot of old professors. The people who are really expert in 
these things don't have time to write about them." 

Now the man was gently separating the sublime meaty mounds that formed her 
rear end, separating them, fondling them, running his questing finger up and 
down the hot, slickly gleaming ravine that divided them. His finger was very 
loving. It asked, implored, and soothed-not at all arrogant or assuming. 
Evelyn began to breathe in long, audible sighs. 

"That's true," she murmured without looking at him. "There-there are some 
experiences that really can't be expressed in writing." 

Now the finger had gone underneath her crotch. It was sliding politely but 
determinedly toward the sacred mouth that gaped passionately, feverently 
beneath its shaggy beard. Evelyn knew she was dripping down there. She could 
feel sticky wetness in her pussy, in her bush, on her thighs. She wondered 
if the man would be repelled by the outpouring of scented liquid. But he 
said nothing. 

Now that Evelyn had shown that she was not above relaxing with a stranger to 
enjoy a little sport on an otherwise dull morning, the hands became bolder. 
Now they were actually rummaging through her treasures, imperiously 
thrusting apart her completely exposed buttocks, squirming through her pussy 
hair, seeking impudent admission to her asshole, and rampaging insolently in 
her ardent, but still bashful twat! 

All this was performed from behind. At times the stranger must have been 
standing, at other times kneeling. Evelyn could only guess his posture from 
his manipulation of her intimate parts. He suddenly shoved her dress all the 
way up to her tits, laying her magnificent torso completely bare! 

Evelyn gulped. What would happen if they were discovered this way? But she 
only said, "Oh, thank you for doing that, sir. The way they make dresses 
nowadays, it's so difficult for a woman to move about freely in them." 

"You're quite welcome," the man said courteously. "Have you found what 
you're looking for yet?" 

"Not yet," Evelyn replied easily, pretending to scan the titles in the 
stacks more intently. "I don't think I'll be satisfied until I find 
something that's a little more to he point!" 

Her straining ears were rewarded by the sound she had been longing to hear: 
that of a zipper being slowly opened. She waited, trembling, her almost nude 
body still stooped forward, legs planted far apart, ass high upthrust in the 
air. 

When it happened, it was as though she had never been fucked before. The 
divinely insistent thrust of a cock so long, so exquisitely penetrating that 
she half expected to feel the head squirm in her throat ... the sensation of 
the man's balls, firmly cupped against his rigidly locked thighs as they 
smeared like two oily marbles against her sensitive crotch .. his hands 
valorously thrust up inside her dress, fondling and squeezing the delicious 
ornaments that dangled from her chest. 

Evelyn began to rotate and wiggle her hips, trying to force them higher, 
trying to ram them backward towards the man's powerful frame. She was 
breathing harder now, her breath coming in ever deeper gasps. Her lovely 
body was running with rivulets of sweat that strained the armpits of her 
dress, streamed down over her belly and made her crotch a swampy morass of 
mingled juices. 

"Fuck! Fuck!" she wheezed. Lifting one hand from her knee, she made it 
explore between her legs, trying to feel the man's pile driving prick as it 
slammed into her. She cuddled his wildly swinging balls in her slim, 
aristocratic fingers, squeezing them, pinching them. "Screw the living shit 
out of me, you stud!" she cried, oblivious to anyone who might hear. "Oh! 
Oh!" In her ecstasy her hand found the book the man had been paging through. 
She yanked it off the shelf, shook it violently. When the photo fluttered 
out, she seized it; her eyes devoured it ravenously. "That's the way to do 
it," she groaned. "Any woman who can't take on three at a time is no woman! 
Oh God, wouldn't it be wonderful to have three men come inside me at once? 
To feel their hot scum boiling into my pussy ... flooding inside my asshole 
... and pouring down my throat all at once!" 

Now the violent slamming thrusts almost knocked Evelyn off her feet. If if 
had not been for the man's supporting hands cupping under her breasts, she 
would have fallen. She knew he was about to come and she could feel her own 
orgasm starting to spread its delicious electric tingle through her 
mid-section. Strangely, both were silent at the actual moment of orgasm. 
Somehow it seemed more appropriate to let their bodies speak ... their 
twitching, sweating, hard-driving organs were speaking to one another in the 
most basic way known to humans. Her vagina felt the spurting, streaming, 
spattering outpouring from his intensely ramming dick, and as the pussylips 
contracted on his wetly skidding rod they seemed to be saying, "Thank you 
... thank you...." 

After their orgasm both stood there crouched over for several minutes, she 
bent forward, hands on knees; he folded over her, his cock still inside. 
Both were simply savoring the aftermath. At last his dick became so soft she 
could no longer hold it within her and it fell out with a slurpy, sucking 
sound. 

Evelyn stood up-it hurt her to straighten up after crouching for so long-and 
faced the man for the first time. She knew she looked a positive wreck. Her 
wet, matted hair hung in ropes around her face. Her dress, clinging of its 
own accord to her body, still clung just below her breasts, making a 
shameless exhibition of everything from bellybutton on down. The man's 
copious discharge of sperm was beginning to seep from her twat, running down 
her rosily blushing thighs and staining her stocking tops. 

The man was more fully covered, of course, but his belt was unbuckled and 
his unzipped fly allowed his cock and balls to dangle out in plain view. 

Still panting slowly, Evelyn looked the stranger in the eye and said, "With 
all these books on the techniques of sex around, it's a shame somebody 
doesn't write about what to do after sex. That's important too, you know!" 

The man smiled encouragingly. "Perhaps you might write such a book 
yourself," he said. "What suggestions would you make?" 

"Well...." Evelyn said thoughtfully, "when you get right down to it, sex 
really is a sweaty, scummy business. I think a gentleman should always offer 
to sponge a lady off. I mean, I just think that's common good manners!" 

"I'm fully agreed," the man declared enthusiastically. He took a large, 
snowy-white handkerchief from the breast pocket of his jacket and began to 
mop away the gush of mingled semen and pussy juice that had flooded over her 
snatch, thighs, and even up her asscrack. When she saw how carefully and 
delicately the man was going about it, Evelyn decided to reciprocate. First 
she took hold of his dong in her beautifully contoured hand and, squeezing 
it with all her might, wrung out every last drop of his come. The pearly 
droplets made a plopping noise as they splattered into the dust of the 
floor. Then she took a small square of lace-trimmed satin from her purse and 
fastidiously wiped away all the ooze that had accumulated on his long, 
large-veined shaft. 

When the man had wiped her clean with his handkerchief, he ran his fingers 
lightly over her belly, into her crotch, between her legs. "I just want to 
see if you're all dried off," he explained. "How does it feel to you?" 

Evelyn closed her eyes. She bent her knees slightly and once more spread her 
knees. Letting her heels rise from the floor, she jutted her hips upward and 
forward, almost as if she were trying to carry a tray on her stomach. "It-it 
feels good," she whispered. "I think you had better feel around a little 
more, though, to make perfectly sure." 

This time the man dropped his cool completely and showed what he could do 
when he put both hands to work. While his left hand went rampaging through 
Evelyn's pussy seeking out every last fold, crevice, and cranny of hotly 
quivering flesh, fondling it, fingering it, probing and caressing it, his 
right hand arrogantly assaulted her asshole, first plucking at the fine spun 
strands of dark hair that surrounded it, then pressing presumptuously up 
into the tight, forbidden tunnel, reaming, boring, and diddling it. 

He was like a master pianist making all ten fingers fly over the keys of a 
concert grand. As Evelyn sobbed and groaned under his expert manipulations, 
as she felt his hand splashing and floundering in the dark pond of her 
pussy, as she felt his hard, declarative finger probe ever farther into her 
asshole while the other fingers sweetly fondled the melting buttock-flesh, 
she rejoiced. She knew that this time it would be even better than the last. 

Automatically her hand reached out and grasped his cock. She began to jerk 
it, slowly and gently at first, then with increasing vigor. Oh God, she 
thought, it's so wonderful to have a dick in my hand again. It will stay 
hard for a long time too. He won't come as fast as he did before. She was 
right. They stood there, violently jerking, fondling and mauling each other, 
sweat once again pouring in streams from their bodies, cursing and kissing 
alternately, Evelyn's mouth dripping saliva all down the front of her dress 
for fully half an hour. 

She came three times in that interval. When the man came, Evelyn's 
maniacally jerking hand made his seed spatter over the floor, the books, her 
shoes, her dress. 

They rested a moment, neither saying a word. Finally Evelyn let her dress 
fall back around her knees. As she made some attempt to repair her hairdo, 
she said, "I really don't see anything in this room worth borrowing. Do 
you?" 

The man smiled as he zipped up his fly. "I do," he replied, "but I doubt 
very much I'd be permitted to check it out for two weeks!" He tipped his hat 
and left. 

As soon as her nerves had calmed somewhat, Evelyn left too. She drove 
directly to Dr. Clyne's office. Luckily she had only a few minutes to wait 
before the nurse ushered her into his examination room. 

"Dr. Clyne," she began without preamble of any kind, "something dreadful is 
happening to me. Something I don't understand. I-I'm afraid I'm turning into 
a sex maniac. If I go on like this, I'll completely disgrace my husband's 
name, myself, and my son!" 

The physician leaned back in his chair and eyed her keenly. "Tell me about 
it," he said. 

Evelyn played with her beads nervously as she said, "Ever since Dean died, 
I've been horny as a bitch in heat-if I may express myself plainly. I've 
been able to think of nothing but flopping down on my back and having myself 
fucked by a strong, powerful penis. That's when I'm not dreaming of taking 
it in the mouth or up the behind! Today-just a few minutes ago-I had sex 
with a perfect stranger in a public building. I won't go into details, but 
it was a real orgy and, I enjoyed it. The worst thing is, I don't believe I 
could resist the temptation if it were offered again! Doctor, what's wrong 
with me? What can I do?" 

Dr. Clyne stood up and went to the window. "Tell me all about your sex life 
from your adolescence right up to the present," he said. 

Evelyn first described her sexual experiences during marriage. She recounted 
how from the honeymoon on she and Dean had loved to engage in every variety 
of erotic play, with no holds barred. Blushing, she related some of the 
bizarre, off-beat activities they had loved best. When she had fully 
described her marital life, the doctor asked, "Did you and Mr. Joslin ever 
swap around?" 

Evelyn frowned. "No," she stated, "that's something we never believed in. We 
were very much in love and felt we had enough variety just within the 
marriage. No, we never swapped." 

"How about pre-marital experience?" 

Evelyn cleared her throat and said, "No, I was a virgin when I married-" 

"How old were you when you married?" the physician inquired. 

"I was only seventeen. I-I think that one of the reasons I married so early 
was that I was so strongly sexed and was afraid of what might happen if I 
remained single. My parents were very old fashioned and the shock of an 
abortion or an illegitimate baby might have killed them. 

So when Dean came along and I realized that I loved him, I sort of hurried 
him into marriage. But neither of us ever regretted it." 

"I see. You tell me you were a virgin when you married. Didn't you allow the 
boys you dated any liberties at all?" 

Evelyn couldn't help coloring as she answered, "Yes. Sometimes I wonder how 
I ever escaped being raped when I think of what a cock teaser I was! I was 
constantly exposing myself. Even at that time when no respectable girl went 
out on the street without panties, bra, and a girdle, I was always naked 
underneath my dress. Any boy who sat across from me on a bus got a quick 
capsule summary of what little girls are made of!" 

"How old were you when you started doing this?" 

"Right from the time of my first period. I mean, I was really terrible. I'd 
be in some public place where people didn't know me-I'd pretend to drop 
coffee or fruit juice on my skirt. Then, very innocently of course, I'd lift 
it up and examine it in such a way as to give any boys standing nearby a 
complete round the world tour of my pussy and my ass! I was nearly always 
doing things like that." 

"I see. Let's go back to your married life again." Dr. Clyne now began to 
question her in detail about a great many aspects of sexual life in the 
Joslin household-how frequently the act was performed, which of the couples 
usually initiated sex, and so on. This took over an hour. 

At the end of that time, looking very grave, Dr. Clyne looked Evelyn 
directly in the eye and said, "Mrs. Joslin, you are one of the few-the very, 
very, few-genuine nymphomaniacs I have ever been called on to treat." 

"Me? Me! A nymphomaniac?" 

Dr. Clyne stopped her with a restraining gesture. "It is a word that is used 
much too freely," he said solemnly. "Most people use the term 'nymphomaniac' 
to designate a woman who is simply oversexed or is not easily satisfied. A 
real nymphomaniac is the woman who simply cannot do without sex. She must 
have it several times a day or she suffers a nervous physical reaction as an 
alcoholic or drug addict does. A nymphomaniac is aggressive about sex-if it 
does not come to her, she will go to any lengths to obtain it. I had a woman 
in here only last week who represented an extreme example. She would have 
sex three times a day with her husband-in the morning before he went to 
work, in the evening as soon as he came home, and then when they went to bed 
that night. In addition, she laid the postman every day-and heaven help any 
door to door salesman who called at her home! Finally one day her husband 
came home unexpectedly and found her nursing her baby at her breast at the 
same time some insurance salesman was sticking it into her from behind. That 
was the last straw for the husband. He threw her out; she came to me in 
tears, asking if I could treat her." 

Evelyn was very much shaken. "Heavens!" she said. "I always knew I enjoyed 
sex more than most women but I thought it was a healthy enjoyment!" 

Dr. Clyne shook his head. "It is not healthy," he declared. "In your case, 
it is more in the nature of a craving." 

"But-but tell me, doctor, why didn't I realize the kind of person I am long 
ago? I mean, in the years past I would never have considered hauling up my 
skirts and submitting to be plowed by the first stranger that came 
along-which is what happened today! Why do I suddenly feel this temptation 
to behave like a waterfront whore?" 

"That's easy," the physician replied, smiling wanly. "Up till now, you 
always had an extremely willing partner. According to what you tell me, Mr. 
Joslin always went along very enthusiastically with your sexual urges and 
even led the way at times. If he had not been quite so willing, I can 
promise you that the 'waterfront whore' side of your personality-as you term 
it-would have become evident much sooner." 

Evelyn's face became a tragic mask. "But doctor!" she cried, "I can't go on 
like this. I mean, even if I didn't care for my own reputation, I still owe 
it to my son not to become a-a sex addict! Isn't there something you can do 
for me? Is there a pill I can take for this?" 

The doctor looked unhappy. "Oh sure, there are things," he admitted. "But 
we're not sure of the side effects. They could be dangerous. Frankly, Mrs. 
Joslin, if you have the time and the money, I would strongly advise you to 
see a physician who specializes in this sort of thing and combines medicine 
with psychiatric treatment." 

"Do you know such a man? I'd go to him in a minute!" 

"The best man in this field is Dr. Blaine Rogers," Dr. Clyne said. "But I 
must warn you, the treatment takes several months at least. He is in New 
York-you would have to go there and remain there for as long as the 
treatment requires." 

"I'll do it!" Evelyn declared, her eyes flashing. "Will you furnish an 
introduction and find out how soon he can begin to see me, Doctor?" 

Dr. Clyne was happy to do so. He phoned Evelyn late that afternoon and told 
her that he had arranged her first appointment with Dr. Rogers in New York. 
"He can see you day after tomorrow," Dr. Clyne reported. "Ordinarily, you'd 
have to wait weeks, but in view of the urgency of the case, I was able to 
persuade him to see you sooner. Can you make arrangements by that time?" 

It would mean a mad flurry of activity, but Evelyn was determined she would. 
She immediately called her son to her and said, "Ken, I'm sending you to 
live with Uncle Al and Aunt Judy for a while. They've always said how much 
they'd love to have you come for an extended stay, and I know you'll have 
the companionship of their youngsters. I-I have to go to New York for 
medical treatment. You mustn't be alarmed, it's nothing too serious, but I 
will have to stay there for a number of months. Don't fret; just think of 
yourself as the man of the family-you'll be responsible for my property and 
correspondence and things like that while I'm away." 

After she had secured an airline reservation to New York, she made 
arrangements to stay in a fine old hotel in Manhattan's east thirties where 
she and her husband had put up a number of times in years past. 

The very next afternoon she was winging her way to the great metropolis. She 
was filled with excitement. She was eager to begin her treatment, yes, but 
she also appreciated the chance for a vacation far away from the familiar 
things that would constantly remind her of Dean and his tragic end. She 
brought along an extensive wardrobe that was conspicuously lacking in one 
item-a black dress! 

 CHAPTER THREE 

FATHER FUCKS BEST 

Evelyn checked into her hotel just before five. She was pleased to see that 
it had lost none of its old fashioned charm. Although it had been 
constructed around the turn of the century, it was very well kept up and had 
many interesting features that have long since disappeared from modern 
structures. 

After she had settled into her room and taken a shower, Evelyn lay down on 
the bed nude. She thought she might take a short nap. Lying there, she 
congratulated herself on her decision to come to New York. The treatment 
would take a long time and heavens only knew what disgrace she might have 
pulled down on her head if she had chosen to be cured in her home town! At 
least here in the giant city no one would know or care no matter how 
ridiculously she behaved. 

She felt deliciously tired but an insistent buzz of conversation from the 
next room made it impossible for her to doze off. She recalled now that this 
was one old fashioned feature of the hotel that she did not like-the 
connecting door between all the rooms. They certainly passed the sound 
along! Raising her head from the pillow to stare resentfully at the door, 
she noticed that someone had thrust a little wad of paper in the keyhole. 

She had to smile. Obviously the person who had wadded up the keyhole had 
done so to prevent being observed from the next room. This really was an old 
fashioned place! Imagine a hotel with antique style keyholes that you could 
actually peep through! 

But then, her breathing quickening, Evelyn began to think: Suppose-just 
suppose-I were to do the peeping! The voices coming from the adjacent room 
were those of a man and a woman. What were they doing in there? Could it be 
something sexual? Just the thought made Evelyn's body go hot and tingly all 
over. She tried to fight the impulse but it was just too much-she had to 
look. Scrambling to her feet, she walked slowly to the door in her bare 
feet, cautiously removed the tiny wad of paper and completely naked kneeled 
down and put her eye to the keyhole. 

Her first reaction was one of disappointment. It was obviously a father and 
daughter. A young woman of about fifteen years of age was standing before 
the mirror combing her long, blonde hair. She was dressed in her slip. The 
man, who appeared to be about forty, was sitting on the edge of the bed. He 
had his shoes off but was otherwise fully clothed. Evelyn heard the girl 
say, "How long will mother be at the hairdresser's, father?" 

"Oh, about an hour," the man replied in a flat monotone. "She wanted you to 
go with her but when you hadn't gotten back by five she decided to go on 
without you." 

"That's all right," the girl stated. "Sitting around that dopey salon with a 
bunch of women is something I can do without." She turned and flashed a 
brilliant smile at her father. "I'd much rather stay here and talk to you, 
Daddy!" 

The man smiled in return. "It's nice to hear you say that, Jean," he 
murmured. "I guess this is really the first chance we've had to talk in 
private since we sent you away to that finishing school last year." His eyes 
glanced appreciatively up and down the girl's slim, lissome form. "You 
certainly have grown up, young lady! And you've filled out considerably 
too-I notice a few bumps and bulges beneath that slip that certainly weren't 
noticeable when we sent you away last fall!" His eyes twinkled as he said 
this. 

The girl darted him an adoring look. "Thanks for noticing, Daddy," she said. 
"Most fathers wouldn't notice-they like to think their daughters will remain 
children all their lives! Oh dear, it certainly is hot in this room. Why 
couldn't we stay at one of those modern, air conditioned hotels?" 

"You're right, Jean," the man acknowledged, "it is warm in here. I'm 
actually perspiring." 

"I don't know about you, but I'm going to take off this stupid slip," Jean 
declared. "Feel free to take off your shirt, Dad. Or even your pants. No 
reason why we should be uncomfortable and stuffy." With that, she whipped 
off her pretty green nylon slip and stood before the mirror clad only in her 
bra, panties, and a pair of self supporting, crotch high nylons. Evelyn 
could not help gasping at the sight. The girl was beautiful! With her tall, 
slim figure, her hair that made a perfect cascade of glisteny blondeness as 
it hung almost to her waist and with her perfectly formed, long thighed 
legginess, she was an ideal model of fresh, lovely femininity. 

The man's startled look as he surveyed his daughter's half-naked lovliness 
was very apparent to Evelyn. She wondered what thoughts were racing through 
his mind as his eyes roved over the juicily full globes of her rose petal 
pink ass that hung out almost entirely exposed to view since the skimpy, 
bikini type panties had crept far up between her buttocks. As; the girl 
turned, Evelyn could see that her breasts, though small, were lusciously 
pear shaped. The gauzy thin brassiere revealed the nipples and flaring halos 
around them with breathtaking clarity. Similarly, her thatch of golden pussy 
hair shone radiantly through the negligible covering of her panties. 

The father simply sat on the bed and regarded the girl somewhat covertly for 
a minute. Then very slowly he removed his shirt and hung it on a chair. Even 
more slowly still he removed his trousers and placed them neatly on the seat 
of the chair. He sat down again, dressed only in his underwear and socks. 

The girl paraded back and forth from the closet to the bathroom several 
times, her lovely titties bouncing three ways at once. Finally she asked, 
"How long did you say it would be before mother came back, Daddy?" The man 
looked at his watch. "I guess it will be about fifty minutes now," he said. 
"Of course, it all depends on how quickly Robert takes care of her. It might 
be a few minutes more. It might be a few minutes less." He seemed to be 
avoiding her eyes as he said this. 

There was silence for another minute or two. Then the father said, "You 
know, it's hotter than I thought in here. I think I'm just going to get down 
to my bare skin. This is the last time I take a room in a non air 
conditioned hotel!" 

He removed his underwear much more quickly than he had his shirt and pants. 
There was almost a frenzy about his haste, Evelyn thought! The girl watched 
him without speaking. Then she gulped, turned her back on him, walked to the 
closet at the far end of the room, stripped off her bra and panties and 
flung them inside. She turned very, very slowly and walked over to the bed 
at a snail's pace. Clad only in her long nylon hose she looked down to where 
her father was sitting and said shyly, "Well, Daddy, if there was anything 
you wanted to say to me in private, I guess that means we have less than an 
hour to talk about it." 

Staring straight up into her eyes her father said, "Yes, I guess that's 
true. We'd-we'd have to talk pretty fast." 

"Or-" the girl went on, "-if there was anything we wanted to do that was 
none of mom's business we'd have to start pretty fast too." 

Turning her back on him she walked over to the dressing table, leaned her 
lovely bare ass against it and stood, her shoulders thrown back, her pretty 
cherry tipped titties thrust forward. A ray of late afternoon sunlight 
pouring through the curtains into the room made her divine clump of 
pussyhair glean like a golden fire between her soft white thighs. 

The man swung his legs to the floor and walked slowly to where his daughter 
stood against the dressing table. His great cock was fully, unmistakably 
erect; it throbbed with every beat of his pulse. 

The girl stared down at it, half surprised, a tiny smile on her face. "Why 
you've got a hard-on, Daddy!" she cried. "Does-does that mean,...." 

The man's level gaze met hers. "Yes," he said, breathing hard and deep, 
"yes, that's what it means." 

"Oh Dad!" the girl said softly, "please promise me one thing-that you won't 
think of me as some kind of slut! I-I'm still a virgin, Dad, not because I 
want to be but because I'm just so shy. You don't know how I've suffered at 
school-all the girls fuck! Even those younger than me. They all have steady 
boyfriends that fuck them blind. I-I'm not really cherry because one day I 
went to a doctor who's friendly with one of my classmates and I paid him to 
put some kind of instrument up my pussy and cut through my cherry. I did it 
because I was dating a boy and I wanted to make it easy for myself when he 
finally got around to propositioning me. But when he finally asked me, I 
said no! I was just too timid!" 

The man held his daughter tenderly. Caressing her arms and shoulder blades, 
he said, "Now, now, Jean. We won't talk about that. Lots of young girls like 
yourself are shy-even the prettiest ones. One thing I've learned-there's a 
right time and a wrong time for a person to have their first intercourse. 
You know, somehow, when the right time has come. And I think for you the 
time is now." 

"Oh Daddy, I'm so glad!" the girl cried. "You-you've done so much for me in 
the past. Even you don't know how much. And now you're going to do one more 
wonderful thing-you're going to teach me how to fuck!" 

"Yes, yes," the man said in a low choked undertone. 

"And you won't be like those boys that date the girls at school! The girls 
have told me how brutal they are, especially the first time they're with a 
girl! You'll be just the way you've always been with me-gentle and 
understanding. But gentle above all!" 

"Because you're my little girl," the man breathed. 

The girl held her father at arm's length for a moment while she bathed him 
in a radiant smile. Then she said, "And Daddy-when you do it to me-don't 
think of me as your daughter. Don't think about that at all. For the next 
half hour or so, we'll just be lovers. Try to imagine you've never seen me 
before. Don't look at my face. Just think of my cunt. Think of my ass. Think 
of my tits. If you want to, you can put a towel over my face. I wouldn't 
mind if it made things easier for you!" 

"That-that won't be necessary, dear," the man said emotionally. 

"Oh, you called me dear! Did you mean 'dear' the way you used to call me 
that when I was a little girl? Or did you mean 'dear' the way that lovers 
use the word?" The girl's eyes were wide and her breast heaved with 
excitement. 

"I meant-I meant it the way lovers say it," her father responded, almost 
inaudibly. 

For the first time, the girl reached out and took her father's rigid cock in 
her hand. "Oh, what a prick!" she sighed. "Oh Daddy, I've been so longing 
for someone to talk dirty to. Talk real dirty to me, Dad! Don't be 
ashamed-it's what I want!" 

While the girl fondled her father's dick lovingly, he ran his hands up and 
down the incredible smoothness of her body. "We're going to have a wonderful 
time, Jean," he promised her. "Wait till I have my cock inside your pussy. 
May-may I fondle your tits, dear? May I handle your lovely ass? What a 
beautiful body you have, Jean-your mother's was never this beautiful, even 
when we were young. It's a body that was made for fucking, Jean! Oh Jean, 
someday when we've had a chance to get used to all this, will you take my 
prick in your mouth? Every time I look at your lovely soft red lips, I think 
how perfect they would feel wrapped around my prick!" 

"Of course!" the girl squealed. "But that's for later. Right now I just want 
to fuck, fuck, fuck! Think of me as your fucking machine, Daddy! And let's 
start-mommy will be back before we know it!" 

Their arms around one another's waists, the pair walked over to the bed. The 
young girl towered over her father by several inches at least. As they 
reached the bed she said teasingly, "You may be shorter than me, buddy, but 
you're big down there anyway!" She reached down and touched his dick again. 
She ran her hand up and down his straining shaft several times, making it 
leap and quiver. 

"Hey, watch it there!" the man smilingly cautioned. "Better not do that 
again unless you want to see my sperm splashing all over your pretty toes!" 

The girl giggled and flopped down on the bed, her splendid legs hanging over 
the sides. From where she crouched Evelyn could see right up the youngster's 
twat. This view was blotted from sight when the father stepped between her 
legs and began gently to ease his cock into her. Evelyn's mind, already in a 
delirium of erotic cravings, snapped at this point. "A cock ... I've got to 
have a cock," she murmured to herself. Groping blindly, her eye still 
pressed to the keyhole, her hand fell upon a hairbrush sticking out of her 
half unpacked suitcase. "Oh," she murmured as she began to ram the handle up 
her ardently yearning pussy, "oh God, what I'd give if it were only a real 
one!" 

The man had begun pumping away now-long, easy thrusts. Evelyn could see 
nothing of the girl but her legs. She had an excellent view of the father's 
ass and balls however and she noticed how his buttocks clenched and 
tightened with every stroke. She could hear the man asking, "Are you all 
right now? I'm not hurting you am I, dear? Tell me if everything is all 
right!" 

And the girl replied in a low, moaning voice, "Oh, yes, Daddy. Oh! Oh Daddy, 
if I'd only realized it was this much pleasure I'd have let you fuck me when 
I came home for Christmas vacation. So this is what it's like. Wait till I 
get back to school this fall-I'm going to make the other girls so jealous! I 
won't tell them you were the one to jab it into me first but I'll tell them 
everything else. Yes Daddy, you can do it harder now! Really ram your dick 
into me. I want it! My pussy wants it! Oh God, Daddy, could you suck my 
nipples for a while-yes, yes, that's the way!" 

Evelyn could see the man's balls squirm and jiggle as he pumped away like a 
demon for about half a minute. Then she heard the girl say, "Now take it a 
little easier, Dad. I don't want you to come just yet. Oh Daddy, why didn't 
we do this before? There's nothing shameful about it! Why should it be such 
a disgrace for a father to screw his own daughter? If both want it, it seems 
like the most natural thing in the world. Mm! Daddy, kiss me ... kiss me 
hard. Let me suck your tongue into my mouth. Oh Jesus, Dad, that feels 
good-your tongue is so long and passionate it's almost like having your dick 
in my mouth. 

"You want to know something, Daddy? I don't think I'm the only girl in 
school that does this with her father. That Sally Turner-I walked in on her 
one Sunday afternoon when her father was visiting her and he was holding her 
close and he had his hands up under her dress, feeling up her ass. They 
weren't a bit bashful about it, either! Her face was all flushed and the 
both of them were sweating. I think he had been fucking her standing up, 
that's what was happening!" 

Suddenly, Evelyn saw the girl wrap her legs around her father's midriff. 
"Daddy, Daddy," she moaned, "I think I'm going to come! Hold me tight, hold 
me tight, Daddy! Now give it to me-stuff your prick into me as far as you 
can get it. Oh my God...." 

At that moment Evelyn felt herself creaming. Kneeling there on the floor, 
her head bobbing like a mechanical toy, she felt the orgasm flood through 
her crotch, her breasts, her entire body like molten steel. It's a cock, she 
told herself, it's a hot, loving cock....But when she looked down at what 
she held in her hands she sighed bitterly. "Only the handle of a hairbrush," 
she said, "only a piece of wood. Something has to be done about this." 

When she next applied her eye to the keyhole, both bodies on the bed were 
still. A moment later the man raised himself, slowly, reluctantly. "Did 
you-did you enjoy it, dearest?" he asked the blonde youngster who still 
sprawled atop the counterpane, her legs spread lasciviously. "Was it-was it 
like what you expected?" 

"Mm!" The girl sat up slowly and Evelyn could see she was smiling. "It was 
better than I ever expected, Daddy, much better!" She took his tool in her 
soft white hand and held it lovingly to her cheek. "Oh Daddy, we're going to 
have such wonderful fun all summer! I can't wait till we get back home and 
have a whole house to play around in! When mommy's down in the basement, you 
and I can fuck in the bedroom upstairs. When she's upstairs we can fuck in 
the basement-or the kitchen-or the garage!" 

Her father stroked her breasts tenderly. "That was the best lay I've had in 
my entire life," he sighed. "What a tight little pussy you have, my dear. 
It's just as I said before, Jean, you were made for fucking!" 

"Thanks, Daddy," the girl said, blushing. "And now that we've bailed one 
another, we'll do other things, won't we? Tomorrow, when mother goes out 
shopping will you put your dick in my mouth? Can I suck you off? I'd do it 
now, except I'm afraid she'll be back soon. What else is there we can do 
besides fucking and sucking, Daddy? Tell me-I want to know all about these 
things!" 

The man's limp rod began to go hard again as he said, "Someday, child, when 
we're both in just the right mood, let me fuck you up the ass. It's just 
possible you may prefer it to the regular way." 

"Oh!" the girl squealed excitedly, "that sounds just outasight! Did-did you 
ever do that to mommy?" 

The man shook his head sadly. "Your mother doesn't like it that way, Jean. 
But your Aunt Martha does! You didn't know that your Aunt Martha and I have 
been giving one another lessons in love, did you, Jean?" 

"Oh no!" the girl cried excitedly. "Aunt Martha! And she takes it up the 
behind from you? Well, with that big ass of hers, I'm not surprised. Do you 
like making love that way, Daddy?" 

"Child, as far as I'm concerned, it's the only way. But you and I mustn't 
rush things. Your sweet little hole is probably too tight and tender yet. 
But Aunt Martha has been reamed so often back there, I think you could drive 
a Mack truck up her asshole and she'd never notice the difference!" They 
laughed a moment. Then he said, "Seriously, Jean, I think we'd better get 
dressed. Your mother must have left the hairdresser by now." 

"All right," the girl said grudgingly. "But I can't wait till tomorrow." 

The man dressed with nervous haste. He was completely clothed in little over 
a minute. The girl slowly donned her panties, then her bra. She went back to 
the mirror. Just as she commenced to brush her hair again, the door opened 
and a matron of about thirty-five entered without knocking. 

The girl started noticeably; then regaining her composure, she smiled and 
said, "Hi, Mom! What's the idea of running off to the hairdresser without 
me?" 

"Well, I waited as long as I could but finally I just had to go off without 
you." A look of slight exasperation flitted across her face. "Oh Jean!" she 
protested, "You shouldn't run around in your underwear in front of your 
father like that. It isn't nice!" 

"What's wrong with it?" the girl asked blankly. 

The mother shook her head as she bustled about, straightening objects on the 
dressing table, picking up articles of clothing that had been left out on 
the chairs and bed. "There's nothing wrong with it," she said, "it just 
isn't done!" 

The girl went to where she had dropped her slip. As she passed her father, 
Evelyn saw a smile of knowing sensuality pass between them ... a secret look 
that totally excluded the mother. 

Evelyn had seen enough. Her knees were sore where they had rested on the 
floor for so long. As she lay down for another attempt at a nap, she 
thought, that child is wrong in what she did, seducing her father like that. 
But who am I to criticize? If my own son were here right now, I don't know 
if I could resist the temptation. I just don't know.... 

 CHAPTER FOUR 

BAR ROOM BLUES 

Evelyn rested in her room for a long time. It had been a very fatiguing day. 
At nine o'clock however, she abruptly realized she had not had a thing to 
eat since breakfast that morning. She had passed up the meal aboard the 
airplane because her stomach was tied up in knots with excitement. 

"I'm ravenous," she suddenly decided. "I'm going out to find myself 
someplace special, someplace with a lot of atmosphere! I owe it to myself, 
my first evening in New York!" She went to the closet and spent a good deal 
of time deliberating over the dress she would wear for the occasion. She 
finally settled on a simple frock of sheer white jersey that clung like a 
glove. Slipping it over her nude body, she admired herself in the mirror. 

Yes, yes, she thought, this is what I need-no more black for me. She liked 
very much the way it emphasized and hinted at her treasures without 
precisely revealing them. If she stood against even a dim light the outline 
of her voluptuously contoured form stood out with amazing clarity. Viewed in 
ordinary light however, the rosy aureoles of her nipples shone subtly 
through the fabric like the sun trying to burn its way through the mist on 
an overcast day. The dark triangle of her pussyhair was also apparent but 
only if one stared very hard. It was very tight on her body, so tight even 
the minute indentation of her belly button was clearly evident. She wore no 
hose, only a pair of high heeled gold slippers. 

You look very, very nice, Evelyn, she told herself, smiling into the mirror. 
And you had better watch out where you show yourself like this or some 
oversexed male may just fuck you right through two hundred dollars worth of 
expensive jersey! She had to blush at the thought. Gracious! She would be 
glad when Dr. Rogers started his treatment. The sooner he managed to calm 
her down, the better. 

After walking at random for about fifteen minutes, she found a very fine, 
discreetly lighted French restaurant where the food was excellent and the 
wines superb, though not expensive. It was a tiny, bistro like place. Evelyn 
found the atmosphere so congenial that she lingered a long time over her 
coffee and cigarette. Eventually though, sensing the desire of the 
management to close for the night, she paid her check and went out. 

It was by now well past eleven. Her fatigue had disappeared completely. She 
was beginning to feel caught up in the rhythm of the city, its inexhaustible 
excitement, that unique feel of crowds on the move no matter how late the 
hour. I can't go back to the hotel just yet, she resolved, I'll walk a 
little longer. Heavens, after the depression of Dean's death and the funeral 
and everything connected with it, it's such heaven to be in the midst of so 
much vibrant life! 

Several blocks from the hotel she noticed an intriguing bar. Through the 
large expanse of glass frontage she saw that it was filled almost entirely 
with young people, girls as well as men, and that it seemed like a very 
lively place. I wonder if this could be one of those east side pickup bars 
I've read about so often? she wondered. Most of the patrons seemed younger 
than herself, in their early twenties for the most part, but why should she 
let that stop her from stopping in and having just one drink? She had to 
begin finding out about places like this if she were going to remain in New 
York for several months. Maybe she'd like it, maybe she wouldn't. But she 
couldn't just isolate herself in her room. 

She found a seat at the bar right near the door and ordered a vodka and 
tonic. Staring about her curiously she decided that most of the crowd was 
too young for her. There were a couple of fellows, particularly a tall, 
brown haired chap informally dressed in slacks and sweater without a tie who 
might have appealed to her. But the rest seemed like babies. 

She decided to enjoy herself however, now that she was there. But she had 
not gotten through more than half of her drink when she realized she was 
being molested. The fellow on the stool next to her was having the feel of 
his life at the expense of her thigh! She looked at him coldly. He was not a 
pleasant sight. In his early twenties, with a gross, arrogant face, he 
looked like the type who automatically assumes that a huge cock is an 
adequate substitute for charm, manners, and delicacy. 

She pushed his hand away and took another sip of her drink. He was not so 
easily discouraged. "Hey, sweetheart," he said softly, "what's the matter? 
I'm not your type, is that it?" 

"If you were the last man in this bar you wouldn't be my type," she informed 
him sincerely. "If you were the only man in the city of New York, you 
wouldn't be my type. Do you get my message?" 

"Aw, come on," he wheedled in a whiskey hoarse voice, "you chicks all come 
in here for the same thing. I know it-all the guys know it. You're in here 
for a piece of ass. You're here to find yourself a good fuck. It ain't a 
question of whether you'll find it. It's just a question of when!" 

"And with whom," she informed him in tones that seemed to have swept in from 
the Arctic pole. She made to turn aside but at that moment the young man 
intruded a brutally insolent hand into the low cut neckline of her dress and 
grabbed her tit! 

"You bitches make me sick!" he snarled. "You come in here with your cunts 
hanging out and a couple of red lights hanging from your tits and when a 
fellow takes a little interest you act like the Virgin Mary all of a sudden! 
You don't fool me! You want me to buy you half a dozen drinks and get so 
sozzled I can't get it up before you'll agree to come up to my pad!" By now 
Evelyn was becoming genuinely alarmed. She hadn't dreamed anything like this 
could happen in a public place! She cast a pleading glance at the bartender 
but he was at the far end of the bar and in the general commotion was not 
apt to notice the disturbance. 

As the young man squeezed and fondled her nipple and began to rub his thigh 
against hers, she exclaimed, "Please let me alone! Can't somebody make him 
stop? Please!" By now she was struggling with him. 

A few men noticed but they only laughed uneasily or turned quickly away. 
"Come on," the young man said, "why do we have to go through all this? If 
you don't want to go up to my pad, how about my car? It's parked right 
around the comer. We can fuck on the back seat without any-" 

At that moment he lurched sidewise on the bar, blood spurting from his mouth 
as the tall, brown haired young fellow she had noticed before drove a 
smashing hard right to the molester's jaw! In falling however, he grabbed 
wildly at Evelyn's dress, ripping it down the front and around the middle. 
Evelyn's breasts spilled out the front and dangled their enticing nakedness 
for all to 

"You bastard!" the brown haired man exclaimed, standing over the molester 
where he writhed feebly on the floor, "I'll teach you not to annoy women!" 

"Hey! Hey! What's going on here?" the bartender cried, making his way down 
the bar. "Listen, if you guys wanna fight, take it outside!" 

"Oh goodness, what am I going to do?" Evelyn pleaded, trying vainly to 
conceal her rich bosomy fullness with her hands, "he-he ripped my dress. I-"
 By now the intrusive young man was recovering slowly. "You crummy fucking 
bitch," he muttered painfully, "I'll show you what it means to tangle with 
me...." He attempted to rise from the floor, then fell back. 

The other man put his arm around Evelyn's shoulder. "I suggest we get out of 
here," he said. "It'll save both of us a lot of trouble." He threw several 
dollar bills on the bar and guided Evelyn to the door. She went very 
willingly but as they were about to step outside she moaned, "I-I can't go 
outside like this. I'm practically naked from the waist up!" 

"I'll fix that," her rescuer promised smilingly. Stripping off his sweater 
he helped her guide it with difficulty over her heaving tits. As he did so 
his hand accidentally brushed one lovely knob. Her breasts instantly went 
hard and her nipples felt like two red hot poker tips that only a man's 
cooling tongue could soothe! She forced herself to remain calm, turning her 
head aside so the stranger could not see how her face flared crimson. 

When they were on the sidewalk the man asked, "Can I get you a cab?" 

"Oh no, that's all right," Evelyn replied. "I only live a few blocks from 
here. If you'll see me back to my hotel I'll be very grateful. Thank you 
very much for helping me when you did-that was a dreadful experience!" She 
appraised him from the comer of her eye. He really was cute! She wondered 
how old he was-a year or two younger than herself, she suspected. 

He grimaced. "I won't go in there any more," he said. "I didn't really 
intend to go there tonight. But I wanted a cool drink and I was passing by 
and ... well, you know how it is. It used to be a nice place but a bad crowd 
hangs out there now." 

Evelyn looked down at herself and remarked humorously, "I really hung out 
there tonight! Everything from the waist up hung out!" He laughed. "Will you 
tell me your name?" she asked. "I feel I should know who was responsible for 
getting me out of a very sticky situation." 

"I'm Miles Edwards," he replied. "And you?" She told him. It was only a 
minute before they arrived at the hotel. As they reached the lobby she 
stopped, faced him and began to say, "Well, thanks again for helping me-" 
Then she realized they couldn't say goodbye there! She was wearing his 
sweater and she certainly couldn't peel it off right there in front of 
everyone! 

"Well," she exclaimed, "looks like I'll have to invite you up to my room, 
Miles. I'm sure you'd like me to return your sweater." 

"That's really not necessary," he said. "I could pick it up tomorrow." 

"Why do that?" she asked, moving toward the elevator. "Come on. I trust you. 
You don't look like a rapist." She thought a moment, then said smiling, 
"Or-maybe I shouldn't be so sure of myself. Maybe this is a little plan you 
and the other fellow have worked out. He insults girls in bars, you hit him 
and get to take the young lady back to her apartment where you rape her. The 
next night you alternate roles-he knocks you down and then he takes the girl 
home!" 

It was charming to see Miles' countenance turn rosy at the mere suggestion 
of such a thing. She patted his arm lightly. "Never mind," Evelyn said, "I 
was only kidding." 

Once inside the room, Evelyn made directly for the bathroom where she ripped 
off her ruined dress. She stood nervously biting her lip, her mind a perfect 
riot of conflicting impulses and desires. I'm stark naked, she told herself. 
And a young, good looking male is here in my room. I could walk out this 
door right now as I am, wiggle my hips and say, "Would you like to fuck me? 
Look at me, Miles. I'm a desirable voluptuous woman. All you'd have to do is 
drop your pants and ball me where I stand. You could stay all night, Miles. 
You don't know me and I don't know you, so what's the harm? We could fuck 
and suck and stick our fingers into each other's slits and crevices from now 
until dawn. Then you could go off and we'd never have to see one another 
again!" 

Yes, that's just the trouble she thought. We'd never see one another again. 
Men are all alike that way. Make it too easy for them and you lose them 
fast. 

Her face went rigid. No, she decided. I'm not going to make it easy for him. 
I would like to see him again. 

She slipped a terrycloth robe over her body and went out into the bedroom. 
"Here's your sweater!" she called out, flinging it to him. "It's got a 
couple of bulges that weren't there before but they'll soon disappear." He 
seemed uncertain whether to go or attempt to stay-she liked that. "Look," 
she suggested, "why don't you sit down and talk with me for a few minutes? 
I've got a bottle of dry sherry in my suitcase-let me offer you some. And 
Miles-you don't have to put on any act with me. I've been married ... I'm a 
widow ... and I'm not going to behave like a seventeen year old who gets all 
giggly and stammering simply because she's entertaining a man in her room 
and has nothing beneath her robe but her bare skin! All right?" 

Miles plopped himself down in an easy chair. "All right," he said, obviously 
very pleased with the tone of her remarks. "And I'll take you up on that 
offer of some sherry." 

Evelyn opened the bottle herself and poured healthy portions into a couple 
of the hotel's water glasses. "Cheers," she said, clinking glasses with him. 
She sat down on the bed on the far side away from him. "Tell me something 
about yourself, Miles," she urged. "From the way you handled yourself 
tonight, I'd say you were an athlete. Maybe even an ex-boxer. But no-your 
face is too sound and whole for that. You've never been in the ring. But you 
are in excellent shape! What do you do for a living?" 

He smiled a trifle sheepishly. "You'll never guess," he said. "I work in a 
women's beauty salon. What do you think of that?" 

Evelyn laughed so hard she spilled some sherry down the front of her robe. 
"That's right out of left field!" she exclaimed. "A beauty salon! Usually 
the males who take on that career are homosexuals. Are you queer, Miles?" 

Now it was his turn to laugh. "Thank you for being so direct. No, I'm not 
queer. I'm as straight as they come." 

Evelyn realized that in some far off comer of her mind she was hoping that 
he'd admit he was homosexual. It would make things so much easier. They 
could simply enjoy a few minute's conversation over a drink and then he 
could go. There wouldn't be this temptation. This torment. How handsome and 
virile he looked, sitting there at ease! His skin was golden ... he must go 
to the beach every weekend, she was sure. You don't get that honey tone 
under a sunlamp. His nipples glowed darkly beneath the immaculate white of 
his shirt.... 

He was saying something about the place where he worked. Evelyn wasn't 
listening. She scissored her legs apart slightly and surreptitiously 
intruded her hand through the front of her robe. Oh Jesus, this was torture! 
Why do people have to play games with one another? 

She knew he couldn't see what she was doing sitting half turned away from 
him on the far edge of the bed. She made her hand fuck her pussy. Oh yes, 
she was all sloppy and juice down there already. Her subconscious mind had 
prepared her twat for the cock it would never receive that night. What irony 
... but if she couldn't have the real thing, she'd have the next best. Her 
own loving, gentle, understanding hand......" so while I don't particularly 
like everything about the work, I am learning things," he was saying. "It's 
an unusual salon with unusual opportunities." 

Evelyn forced her mind to focus on his words. "Unusual?" she asked politely. 
"How? And what do you mean by 'unusual opportunities?'" 

But another part of her brain was simultaneously saying: I wonder what would 
have happened if it had been you that accosted me in that bar tonight, 
Miles, instead of the other fellow? Oh, I can just imagine! You'd have 
placed your hand on my thigh and I'd have just smiled a brilliant smile as 
though nothing unusual had happened. Then, very slowly in a gentlemanly way, 
you'd slide your hand around to the soft inside portion of my thigh. Then 
upward, fingering my pussylips for a time, diddling my clitoris, looking me 
straight in the eye to see how I was taking it. I'd have taken it very well, 
Miles, I wouldn't have complained. You could have finger-fucked me right 
there in the bar, you could have made me come and I'd act as unconcerned as 
if we were talking about the weather! You could have stuck your whole hand 
up inside my snatch, Miles, you could have made one giant dick of your hand 
and I'd have let you do as you pleased! 

Now Miles was saying " ... the thing is, it's not just a beauty salon. This 
woman I work for, this Miss Steele, has a lot of valuable ideas about 
physical fitness that she works into her programs...." 

Her hand was working away so madly between her legs, Evelyn was afraid Miles 
would hear the sucking slurpy sound that was so apparent to herself. Oh yes, 
my sweet brown haired lover, she wanted to say, I'd have been perfectly 
willing to sit right on the edge of that bar stool so that after you had 
played with my pussy to your heart's content you could have run your finger 
a little further into my crotch, touching my asshole, letting your finger 
rove and play in my sweaty asscrack and finally when you felt like it, you 
could have slowly oozed your finger up my asshole ... up ... up ... up ... 
and I would have simply smiled......" Miss Steele also has a unique system 
of facial exercises that works wonders," Miles continued. "Honestly, she can 
erase age lines and prevent new ones from forming. And even though I don't 
particularly care for my employer's personality...." 

The far comer of Evelyn's mind continued to churn away. It was saying, And 
then when we'd gone as far as we could in there, Miles, we could have gone 
outside to the parking lot next door. You could have made me get down on my 
hands and knees between the cars, down in the grease and dirt of the 
pavement. I know what you'd have done next, Miles-you'd have gently raised 
my skirt over my hips and taken a long admiring look at my ass. I'd have 
thrust it up as high as I could, Miles, and even opened my asshole in case 
you wanted to play with it some more before we got down to business.... 

"... I've always been interested in problems of physical fitness and how it 
relates to keeping a youthful appearance," Miles was saying, his eyes intent 
on Evelyn to guage her interest, "and my ambition is to open my own salon in 
the not too distant future. I would go far beyond anything that Miss Steele 
has. It would enable me to use my pre-medical training...." 

And finally, Miles, you'd get down behind me and leaning your full weight on 
my back, you'd fuck the shit out of me, dog fashion. It would be good, my 
darling, just the way it ought to be! Who needs soft lights, perfumed 
budoirs, dreamy music? No, a good squirming fuck with the sweat pouring off 
your body there in the dirt of the city parking lot-that's how it should be! 

Evelyn brought herself up short. She had been pawing away at her pussylips 
with such energy that she was on the point of coming. That wouldn't do at 
all. Miles would be sure to notice the jerking, spasmodic contractions of 
her hips and legs. No-let her passion die down. Let it subside. There now. 
Now she felt better. 

Closing her legs and sitting up straight she said, "Well, Miles, that's very 
interesting. I'd never have guessed you're a beauty culturist in a million 
years. I hope you get your own salon very soon. I may patronize you, who 
knows?" 

He stood up. Extending his hand, he said, "No, my treatments are designed 
only for the woman over thirty. Thanks for the sherry, Evelyn." Snatching up 
his sweater he said, "I'd better head home. I've lots to do tomorrow and I'm 
sure you do too." 

She stood up. "Well, all right," she said a little forlornly. She really 
hadn't expected him to depart quite so soon! "I-I appreciate what you did 
for me." 

He made for the door. "I'm sorry it had to happen," he remarked. "I hope you 
don't meet up with any other eager beavers like that during your stay in New 
York. Goodbye." They shook hands once more and he went out. 

Evelyn watched silently for a moment as he walked down the hall toward the 
elevator. Then she went inside and closed the door. Had she done the right 
thing? Would he try to see her again? That was a sweet thing he had said 
about 'women over thirty.' But he really hadn't shown too much interest. 

Oh damn! Maybe she would have done better to be satisfied with a one night 
stand-to claim his cock while it was still available for the claiming! At 
least she would have had that-he certainly wouldn't have resisted her if 
she'd thrust her hand inside Ids pants while she parted her robe to display 
to him the full magnificence of her treasures. 

She slumped onto the bed and stared in misery at the floor. Shit! Shit! It 
was awful to be a woman! They still judged you by that old double 
standard-you could never get away from it. They still expected a woman to be 
nothing but sugar and spice. And if you ever hinted that a little pussy 
juice was mixed in there too, they were shocked out of their minds. 

She was so angry and dispirited that she didn't even finish playing with 
herself. To hell with the orgasm-she didn't want it now! 

As Miles walked through the lobby on his way out of the hotel he too felt 
very much let down. Had he done the right thing? he wondered. He would have 
liked very much to see Evelyn again but how could he entertain her? It took 
no more than a glimpse of the girl to tell that she was very much used to 
the finer things. Everything about her-her dress, her luggage, the toilet 
articles on her dressing table-everything spoke of money! Would she really 
be interested in hearing that he was so heavily commited to purchases of 
machines, equipment, and furnishings for his new salon that he could only 
afford to buy her an occasional drink at a neighborhood bar? 

Maybe he should have asked her if he might phone sometime. Well ... he'd 
sleep on it and see how he felt tomorrow. 

 CHAPTER FIVE 

JAIL BAIT BALL 

As Miles left the hotel and began to walk along the street, now largely 
deserted, a small figure detached itself from the shadows and began to 
pursue him. Sometimes it ventured boldly to within a few yards and seemed 
about to engage his attention. Then it would fall back uncertainly. 

At last the small person seemed to gather up courage and making a determined 
dash for Miles, plucked at his sleeve and cried out, "Hi, Miles!" 

The young man stopped dead in his tracks and looked around. A very young 
girl clad in blue denim bell bottoms and a scruffy blue tee-shirt stood 
staring nervously up at him. "Oh no!" Miles breathed, leaning wearily 
against a lamp post. "Oh no! Gail, what are you doing here? Did you follow 
me? Tell me-did you follow me?" 

She nodded. With a shy uncertain smile she said, "Yes. I followed you from 
the bar. I-I've been waiting outside the hotel for you to come out." 

Miles shook his head despairingly. "You shouldn't have done that," he said. 
"I've told you before that any kind of relationship is out of the question." 

"Why?" she cried. "Why?" 

"You know as well as I do," he said patiently. "Because you're under age. 
I'll never understand why Joey lets you hang around his bar. If an inspector 
ever found you in there, Joey would lose his license in two seconds flat. 
You are under age, aren't you?" 

She looked down at the pavement and said miserably, "Yes." 

"How old are you anyway?" 

"I won't tell you." 

"See?" Miles exclaimed. "Honestly, I just can't afford to get involved with 
you, Gail. It's not that your unattractive or undesirable or anything like 
that. But I'm a professional man and I expect to open my own business soon 
and well-I just feel that life is complicated enough without my getting 
tangled up with a minor." 

She stared at him bewildered. "Who'd ever know?" she asked shrilly. "I'm 
sure as hell not going to tell anybody! And as for my parents, they're three 
thousand miles away. They wouldn't care shit anyway!" 

Miles shook his head determinedly. "No ... no...." he maintained. He placed 
an affectionate hand on her shoulder. "I've enjoyed talking to you in Joey's 
place, but that's as far as it can go." 

But the youngster was not about to give up all that easily. "Huh!" she 
exclaimed in offended tones, "you didn't say that when I was feeling your 
dick in the bar. And you certainly had a good time handling my ass and 
squeezing my boobs. You didn't complain about me being too young then!" 

Miles remained patient. "I didn't realize at the time," he said. "You were 
all dressed up and looked very sophisticated. It wasn't until we got outside 
and I had a good look at you that it began to dawn on me what I was getting 
into. Frankly, I nearly fainted. So that was the reason I complained about 
feeling ill and let you go home by yourself. And you'll have to admit I've 
never encouraged you any time since." 

She snorted. "Huh! That certainly is the truth!" Her eyes searched his 
desperately for a moment. Then she said, "You fucked her, didn't you?" 

"What? Who?" 

"That girl you took home from the bar. You were with her in that hotel for a 
long time. Is she a hooker?" 

"Certainly not!" Miles tried to sound indignant but he was really amused at 
the girl's naive concern. 

"She looks like a hooker. Tits busting through her dress like that! Swinging 
her ass when she walks. I watched her! Well, answer me-did you fuck her?" 

"Absolutely not. She behaved in a very lady-like fashion. I'll admit, Gail, 
I had my doubts the same as you. But all she did was offer me a drink and we 
talked." 

"Humph!" She stared up at him resentfully. "Admit it-you went with her 
'cause she's prettier than I am!" 

He returned her stare. "She's pretty, yes, but not-" There was something 
about the youngster's face that made him look closer. "Say!" he cried. "What 
happened to you?" Her face was marked with faint but unmistakable 
bruises-yellow and blackish blue. 

She looked away from him and clasped her hands behind her back. "Nothing," 
she replied in almost undistinguishable tones. 

"Yes!" he exclaimed fiercely. Seizing her chin, he tilted her face backward 
to allow the full glare of the street lamp to fall on her face. "You're 
hurt! What happened?" 

"Well...." she said, gulping, "it happened night before last. You remember, 
you and I were talking in Joey's. I wanted you to come with me to my room. 
Oh Miles, I was feeling so horny! Remember how I took your hand and held it 
under my skirt and kept rubbing it against my twat? I wanted to come right 
then and there, but I couldn't! I guess it was something in my mind-I kept 
thinking deep inside how much better it would be if it was your dick inside 
me. I guess I kept holding back because of that. Well anyhow, when you 
pushed me away and walked out of the bar I was just about out of my mind. 

"I started to follow you like tonight but I didn't have the courage to stop 
you. I followed you all the way to your apartment. Then I didn't know what 
to do. I just wandered over toward Times Square and all the time I felt like 
I had ants crawling all over my pussy! I was stone crazy for a cock and I 
didn't know what to do. Juice was running down my legs and making the 
insides of my thighs all itchy. I felt my titties getting hard and I was 
feeling my nipples while I walked along Forty-second Street-people must have 
been sure I was soliciting when they saw me walking along with my hand 
inside the neck of my dress, feeling my tits like there was no tomorrow! 

"Finally I realized that I had to have it so bad I couldn't wait another 
minute. I decided to stop the first guy that didn't look too bad and ask him 
if he wanted to fuck me. So I did it. I did it a couple of times but the 
guys just looked at me real funny and kept going. Then it dawned on me-they 
either thought I was some kind of nut or else they thought I was setting 
them up to get mugged or rolled. I realized I had to pretend to be a 
prostitute. 

"That's what I did. I stopped the next likely looking guy and told him I'd 
ball for fifteen dollars. He didn't waste any time talking. He stopped a cab 
right then and there and we got in and drove to his hotel-one of those big 
places on Sixth Avenue. I kept telling myself how lucky I was. I should have 
been cursing myself out for a dope! When we got inside the room he didn't 
waste a second. Before he even took off his hat or his jacket he zipped his 
fly down and took out his prick and practically shoved it in my face! 'Lay 
your tongue on that, will you, honey?' he said, T always wanted to get 
sucked off by a little girl!' 

"Well, that really wasn't what I had in mind but I went along with the gag a 
little way anyhow. I took his dick in my mouth-it was a horrible looking 
thing, all pimply and hairy and it nearly made me puke-and I sucked it for a 
minute or so. Then I said, let's get undressed and go to town, huh? He was 
willing, all right. As soon as I saw him naked I began to think I'd made a 
mistake. He was older than I'd thought and his body was flabby and ugly. All 
the time I thought I could pretend it was you I was screwing, Miles, but 
when I saw him naked, I knew I couldn't! But I had to go along with the 
deal. He fucked me hard, Miles. He didn't care whether I enjoyed it or 
not-he just slammed it into me-slammed and slammed and slammed until I 
thought every bone in my body would be broken. He slobbered and cursed 
something awful. He must have rammed me for fifteen minutes straight. 

"Finally he came. He just lay there on top of me without moving. I thought 
it was all over. I just wanted to get dressed and get out. I didn't care 
whether he paid me or not. But that wasn't the end of it, Miles. It was just 
the beginning. You know what he did then? He beat me up!" 

"He beat you up?" Miles repeated, astounded. "Why?" 

"No reason! He just wanted to, that's all!" Now Gail was swallowing hard. 
She had difficulty in forming her words. "He held me down on the bed and 
beat me with his fists, his elbows ... he used me the way a fighter uses a 
punching bag!" She started to sob. "What kind of a son of a bitch does a 
thing like that, Miles?" she cried. "What gets into a man to do a thing like 
that?" 

"Why didn't you scream?" Miles asked indignantly. "Why didn't you cry for 
help?" By now Gail was sobbing so hysterically she could hardly speak at 
all. "I-I was afraid to scream. I was afraid he'd kill me if I did. So I 
just let him hit me. I don't know how long he punched me, but when it was 
all over he went into my purse and took out every cent I had. 

The bastard! He took practically my entire week's wages. Then he shoved me 
out into the hall without a stitch on and threw my clothes out after me! I 
had to dress right there in public! Jesus, Miles, it was horrible!" 

Miles held her by the shoulders and tried to comfort her. "Take it easy, 
Gail, take it easy," he said. He tilted her face to the light again and said 
grimly, "He gave you a black eye too, didn't he?" 

She started to laugh shrilly. "That's nothing," she declared. "You really 
want to see something? Look!" And with that she tore open the front of her 
shirt and let it drop from her shoulders. 

Miles cursed. "Why that bastard!" he blurted. "Your shoulders ... your sides 
... even your breasts ... they're nothing but a mass of welts!" 

"You might as well see the rest," she announced sardonically. And before 
Miles could restrain her she had unloosened the top button of her pants and 
let them drop to her ankles! She stood there for an instant, completely bare 
from her neck to her shoes in the street under the lamp! With a muttered 
expletive, Miles dived, seized her bell bottoms and yanked them back up 
again. But in that instant he saw the scratches and bruises on her poor 
little thighs, her belly and her legs. He also caught an intoxicating whiff 
of pungent fragrance from her excited young pussy and it made his cock 
tingle for a second in spite of himself! 

"Here, here!" he exclaimed. "Button your shirt, Gail! My God, you can't 
expose yourself like this on the street." But the youngster was clearly past 
all reason. "Tell me," she cried, her voice rising, "what makes men such 
sons of bitches? I-I-all I wanted was a fuck from a nice guy. And I wind up 
getting the shit kicked out of me! What's the matter with men to make them 
act like that?" 

Miles saw instantly he had two alternatives. He could walk away quickly and 
leave the poor little thing screaming in the street like a whipped dog. Or 
he could try to calm her down and talk some reason into her. But the street 
was not the place to do it. Already curious passersby were beginning to 
notice and draw nearer. 

Miles quickly hailed a cab and pushed the still protesting Gail inside. 
"Where do you live?" he asked her. She gave him an address on the lower east 
side on the edge of Chinatown which he relayed to the driver. The cabbie 
looked at them questioningly but said nothing. 

Miles let her blubber for a while-it seemed best to let her cry herself out. 
Finally she stopped crying and snuggled up alongside him on the seat. How 
soft her body was-and how frail! At length the cab stopped before an ancient 
tenement on a narrow street so dark that Miles marveled at the driver's 
ability to read the house numbers. "This is the place, Mac," he said. 

Gail led the way up four flights of stairs that creaked beneath their 
weight. The bulbs on two of the landings were out and the stairwell reaked 
of urine and spilled wine. She unlocked a door, flipped on a switch and said 
proudly, "Well, this is the place!" It was a poor bare room with the merest 
necessities of furniture. But she kept it clean and there was even a 
pathetic attempt at enlivening the atmosphere with pictures snipped from 
magazines. 

Now that she had Miles alone in her room, Gail seemed uncertain what to do 
next. She stood there trembling slightly, alternating between bravado and 
shyness. Miles, however, was all purpose. "Is this the best light we have?" 
he asked, pointing to the forty watt overhead fixture. "Yes," she replied. 
Miles sat down on the edge of the sagging day bed and said, "Come here." 

Strangely, the youngster hung back. "What for?" she asked. 

Miles, in spite of his sternness, could not help breaking into a grin. 
"What's the matter?" he asked. "What are you afraid of?" 

"I'm afraid you'll spank me," she said in a faint voice. 

Miles tried to suppress his grin as he said, "I'll do nothing of the kind. 
Come here, Gail. Please." 

She approached and stood before him. Miles unbuttoned her shirt and told her 
to take it off. Then he examined her bare torso carefully. Now he could 
really see the extent of her punishment. A great wave of sorrow and sympathy 
swept over him. "Now take off your pants," he ordered. When she had done so 
he made her turn around. He whistled. "What did he use on your ass?" Miles 
asked. "A baseball bat?" 

"He used his belt," she replied. "Does it look bad?" 

"It looks very bad," Miles informed her. "Haven't you seen a doctor about 
this? You could have internal injuries, you know." 

She shook her head. "I don't hurt inside," she said. "It's these cuts and 
bruises ... but I figure they'll go away." Miles took some money from his 
billfold and pressed it into the girl's hand. "I want you to go to a doctor 
whose name I'll give you," he said. "He's a good man; he'll give you a 
thorough physical. I know something about these matters, Gail. I work with 
women all day, helping them improve their bodies and I know a dangerous 
bruise or blood clot when I see it. Tell me something-when I touch you 
here-" he touched her hip, "-does it hurt?" 

She jumped. "It hurts like a son of a bitch!" she gasped. 

"You see? That's a danger area. You could have a clot there." 

She regarded him sadly for a moment. Then she said, "Miles, touch me there 
again." They gazed into one another's eyes. Even in the dim light Miles saw 
something there he had not seen before. Unconsciously, without willing it, 
he slipped to his knees. His arms slipped around her unbelievably slender 
body and drew her to him. He leaned his cheek against her tiny breast and 
said, "Gail, I'm sorry I was the cause of all this. I'm sorry. I'm 
sorry...." 

Neither spoke for a long time. Miles' brain was a turmoil of confused 
impressions: of Gail's softness, the light dew of sweat that covered her 
body, the sweet overpowering perfume that rose from the mysterious cleft 
between her legs, the rise and fall of her breasts. 

At last she spoke. "Kiss me where it hurts," she pleaded. 

He raised his head to look at her. "I'll start where it hurts the most," he 
said. "Just tell me where." 

"My ass," she breathed, leaning forward slightly. Miles complied willingly. 
Getting behind her, he applied his lips to the two battered buttocks, 
tonguing her bruises, gently brushing with his lips the tormented flesh. 
"That's nice, Miles," she murmured, "that's nice. I never dreamed you'd do 
anything like this for me. Oh Jesus, I never had anybody kiss my ass before! 
All anybody ever wanted to do was to get their cock between my legs and come 
as fast as possible." She started to cry again. "My God, why is it you have 
to suffer misery before you find out what real pleasure is? Oh Miles, what 
are you doing to me now? Is that your finger you have on my asshole? No ... 
no, it's not! It's your tongue, isn't it? Oh! It feels so good to have your 
tongue slide up and down my crack like that. Are you sure you don't mind? 
Miles, kiss me all over like that...." 

Miles began to cover her body with gentle kisses. Finally she said, "Take me 
on your lap." He sat on the edge of the bed and placed her naked, bird-like 
body in his lap as she requested. They sat there for a time, just embracing, 
not saying anything. Then somehow he was dimly conscious of a hand sliding 
between his legs ... a loving caress ... the next thing he knew, his hard 
cock was being scooped out of his pants by a trembling hand and inserted 
into something unbelievably soft! He felt the fragile little body sliding 
back and forth on his thighs ... back and forth ... it felt so good ... good 
... he wouldn't have wanted her to stop for all the world.... 

She placed her mouth right next to his ear. He heard her say, "This is the 
way, isn't it, Miles? Just a nice quiet fuck-nothing wild or crazy. I could 
sit here and do this for an hour or more. All night if I had to. Just 
rubbing back and forth. Nothing anxious. I know your juice is warming up 
inside your balls. Isn't it? But it won't boil over for a long time. Know 
why? Because all that's inside my pussy is the head of your dick. Your head 
is peeking around the inside of my twat wondering what it will find there. 
It'll find lots of good things, Miles. My twat has been saving itself for 
you-you'll find out how much it loves your dick when the time comes. But 
right now I'll just wiggle my ass ever so slowly ... ever so slowly.... 

Miles felt as though time were suspended. He was no longer even conscious of 
holding Gail on his lap. Eventually though there came a moment when he heard 
her say urgently, "I'm going to come, Miles. Your wonderful big prick is 
going to shoot off its cream, I can feel it throbbing. Now, Miles! Swing me 
off your lap and between your legs! That's right! Ram your prick up into my 
guts as far as you can! Fuck! Fuck!" 

Miles did as she ordered. Keeping her back to him he slammed his rod up into 
her pussy from behind. He manipulated her feathery lightness up and down on 
his tool ... up and down ... side to side, twisting her from side to side. 
At the very moment of his orgasm he suddenly jumped to his feet, impaling 
her body on his cock like a shisk kebab on a skewer. She screamed with joy. 
As she dangled there, he heard her say, "Keep me here forever, Miles! This 
is where I belong-I'm a part of you, Miles! I-oh Jesus, I can feel your 
sausage squirting into me yet! Oh yes, Miles, fill me up with your come. 
Fill me up so I can taste it in my mouth!" 

Finally he lowered her body gently to the bed and began to stroke it 
lightly. "Feel better?" he asked. "Is some of the pauTgone?" 

"Yes," she replied, "most of it. Miles, this was good. So good! Why couldn't 
it always be this way? Why don't you come and live with me? Or I could come 
and live with you. What would be wrong with that?" 

"Everytlung would be wrong with it," he replied unhappily. "You know what I 
told you before. It was beautiful tonight. But we couldn't keep on like 
this." 

She sat up abruptly. "Miles," she said impulsively, "if we can't behave like 
we're married, why couldn't we at least have the honeymoon? Let's go away to 
Bermuda or someplace like that for a week! It would be heaven, Miles, you 
know it would. You enjoyed sticking it into me just now, didn't you? Well 
just imagine all the other ways we could do it-one week in a Bermuda hotel 
with no job to get up for-nothing to do but enjoy one another's bodies. You 
could do anything you wanted to, anything at all! I wouldn't mind, no matter 
what it was. And I'd do anything you asked me to-I'd go down on you all 
night if that's what you wanted. What do you say, Miles-just one week? Then 
I'd never bother you again. I promise it!" 

Her manner was so heartfelt that Miles felt like a rat having to turn her 
down. "Frankly," he said, "I wouldn't mind getting away for a week. But it's 
out of the question from the standpoint of money alone. I've put every cent 
into a new business I'm going into, Gail. And I'm committed so far ahead 
that I won't have an extra nickle for the next couple of years at least. Not 
a nickel. So there's no sense talking Bermuda or anything like that. Thanks 
for asking me though." 

Gail was not easily put off. "How about after you're established in 
business?" she asked. "Could we do it then? I mean, if you had the money 
would you go away with me then? For just a week?" 

He had to smile. "That day is a long way off," he declared. "Let's talk 
about this project when it arrives, all right?" Before she could object, he 
said, "Now look, young lady, I have to go very soon. This has been a very 
busy evening and I'm about ready to drop! But first I'm going to put you in 
condition for the good night's sleep that you need." 

Her eyes lit up. "What are you going to do to me?" she asked. 

He laughed. "Not what you think," he said. "Where's your bathroom?" 

"Out in the hall," she said ruefully. "Why?" Without answering he went out 
to the bathroom and filled the tub with hot water. Then he wrapped Gail in 
her tattered bathrobe, lifted her in his arms, took her outside and, placing 
her in the tub, began to bathe her. He felt her body relax, then go 
completely limp. She closed her eyes and spoke only once to say, "Miles, I 
love you." He kept her in the water for a long time. Finally he lifted her 
out, dried her off, and took her back to her room. Then he placed her on her 
bed, sprinkled her from head to toe with baby powder and commenced to 
massage it into her skin with the lightest possible touch. 

"I want you to know, Gail," he whispered, "that when you come to my salon 
this treatment I've given you will cost a minimum of fifty dollars. Tonight 
I'm letting you have it for free. See how nice I am to you?" 

Her eyes were still closed. Her breathing came deep and regular. She smiled 
slightly and murmured, "I'm giving you exactly forty-eight hours to take 
your hands off me...." Then her breathing became even more regular and he 
knew she was asleep. 

He kissed her tenderly on one breast and said, "Crazy kid. Crazy world." He 
turned off the light and set the catch so the door would lock behind him. He 
stepped outside and closed the door, then ruminated a moment. "Crazy Miles," 
he declared and began the long descent to the street. 

 CHAPTER SIX 

DEMANDING DAUGHTER 

Evelyn was lying on her back completely nude. Her legs were spread as wide 
as possible and her feet were secured by a pair of overhead stirrups. Dr. 
Rogers spread the lips of her pussy so far apart that she had to wince. At 
last he withdrew his probing fingers and as he stepped over to the sink to 
wash, said, "All right, Mrs. Joslin, you can get up and dress now." 

She did so. As she stepped into her panties, she asked, "What do you think, 
Doctor?" 

"It's just as I thought," he said, "you have an unusually large blood supply 
feeding into the vessels around the vagina. It makes you unusually sensitive 
down there. There may be other factors as well-psychological 
factors-contributing to your need for more or less constant intercourse. I'd 
like to explore those during our next meeting. Can you see me again, day 
after tomorrow, at the same time?" 

"Yes, of course," Evelyn replied. "I suppose it's too early to tell how long 
the treatment will take, isn't it?" 

The physician nodded. "You'll have to see me at least twice a week for two 
or three months minimum, that much I can assure you," he stated. "Have you 
been able to find a pleasant apartment in New York?" 

"I'm staying in a hotel for the time being," she said. When she named the 
place, he frowned, protesting, "That's a very expensive hotel! You'd do much 
better, money-wise, to take a furnished apartment on a monthly basis." 

"I understand good furnished apartments are difficult to find," Evelyn 
remarked as she secured the snap on her bra. "Do you have any contacts in 
the real estate field?" Dr. Rogers did and was more than willing to use 
them. As Evelyn sat at his side he made two phone calls. When he hung up the 
receiver the second time he smiled and said, "My friend tells me he has an 
excellent place, two rooms, in the east sixties. But you'd have to look at 
it today and give him your decision immediately. Could you do that?" 

She certainly could. She took a cab directly to the real estate agent's 
office and from there they went to look at the apartment. It was small but 
more than adequate for her needs and situated in a very nice converted 
brownstone. She took it on the spot. 

It had been such a busy exciting morning that Evelyn hadn't had more than a 
second's time to reflect on her adventure of the night before. Now though as 
she rode in the cab back toward her hotel she thought once more of Miles. I 
wonder what he found wrong with me? she wondered. He could at least have 
promised to call. And now that I'm moving he'll never know where to find me. 
Well, that's how it goes sometimes.... 

She immediately notified the desk clerk that she would be out of the hotel 
before six. Then she went upstairs to pack. She quickly found herself 
speculating on the family in the next suite of rooms. She wondered how 
events were progressing there. Had either the father or daughter regretted 
their action? Or had they gone even further by now? Evelyn assumed, hearing 
no sounds beyond the door, that the family was out. But as she finished 
packing her first suitcase she heard the outside door slam and the sound of 
the father's voice saying, "Hi, Jean! Did you enjoy the movie?" 

"It was okay," the daughter replied carelessly. "Mother won't be back for a 
while. She wanted to take some stupid snapshots of Rockefeller Center. So I 
left her." A tremor of excitement passed through Evelyn. She didn't really 
want to spy on them-she was trying to put herself above all that. On the 
other hand she had to face the fact that she was prey to any situation that 
even smelled of sex-at least until Dr. Rogers began his treatments. Her hand 
darted involuntarily between her legs as she kneeled once again beside the 
keyhole. 

"I'm just as glad she's not here," the girl went on as she removed her wide 
brimmed hat and sank languidly into a chair. Evelyn noticed she looked 
appreciably older than she had the day before. In her dark, knee length 
dress, black patent leather pumps and smartly groomed hairstyle she could 
easily have passed for a twenty year old secretary. Her manner was much more 
mature as well. 

"Glad she's not here?" the father asked with an indulgent leer. "Can I guess 
why?" 

The girl's voice was sharp as she shot back, "I have something to discuss 
with you, father! You fucked mother last night, didn't you?" 

"Why-why yes!" 

"I thought so. I could hear the bedsprings squeaking in here. There couldn't 
have been more squeaking if an army of mice had been let loose! That's got 
to stop, Dad!" 

"What do you mean? What's got to stop?" 

"I don't want you plowing mother anymore. Dad-what it comes down to is this: 
you've got to choose between us. You can't have it both ways. Do you really 
think you can pull your dripping wick out of mother's snatch and then stick 
it into me? Oh no, Dad, I'm not made that way!" 

The man seemed utterly bewildered. "But-but I don't understand," he cried. 
"Why the competition? She's my wife. She wants me to lay her. She needs it. 
If she didn't get it, there'd be hell to pay!" 

The girl stretched out her lovely long slim legs on the hassock. As she did 
so, her skirt rode up above the stocking tops, disclosing an inch of smooth 
flawless young flesh. "That's what I'm getting at, Dad," she said 
nervelessly. "Let me give you the whole pitch. I've done a lot of thinking 
since that little episode yesterday afternoon." 

"I hope you don't hold that against me, child," her father said uneasily. 
"I-" 

The girl emitted a short scornful barking laugh. "Why the fuck should I hold 
it against you?" she cried. "It was the best thing that ever happened to me! 
But you know one thing as well as I do, Dad-nothing can ever be the same 
again. Not one little thing. And here's what I've decided: I'm not going 
back to school this fall." 

"But you have to finish your education, Jean," her father reminded her 
unhappily. "What could you do without a diploma? You couldn't even be a 
stenographer. You'd have to work in a factory somewhere. I presume you want 
to work. Certainly you don't propose to just sit around her house all day!" 

"I do not intend to work," the girl informed him, sharply as before. "I do 
not!" She leaned forward and riveted her intense gaze on her father's 
countenance as she said, "Dad, I'm going to keep house for you from now on. 
I want mother out of there." 

The man was almost too astonished to speak. "You want-you want mother out of 
the house? I-I don't believe this!" 

"I'm deadly serious. I want the old bitch out of the house. I want you to 
divorce her. Then I want for you and me to pull up stakes and move to 
another town somewhere far away so we can start life all over again as man 
and wife." 

The man's jaws moved but nothing came out. For a moment Evelyn feared he was 
going to have a fit. He stood up, moved his arms helplessly, then went to 
the window and stood there for several minutes just looking out. When he 
turned, it was as if some enormous change had come over him. It didn't even 
look like the same man. 

"All right, Dad, what's it going to be? Which do you choose? Me? Or her-with 
her droopy ass, her sagging tits and that twat of hers that looks like a rat 
that somebody deliberately ran over in the street." 

"I choose you, of course," the father announced quite calmly. "But brushing 
off Mildred won't be all that easy, I promise you. She'd never divorce me. 
No matter what I did. No matter how much I pleaded, no matter how much I 
threatened. She'd never take her hooks out of me." 

"There must be a way. There has to be." 

"Yes," he said moodily, "but I'm damned if I know what it could be." 

"Dad, come over here." She beckoned to him with a crooked forefinger. He 
went over and stood alongside her chair. Her gaze meshed with his in a 
near-hypnotic stare as she unzipped his fly. She took out his dick and began 
to jerk it slowly. "Do you like this?" she asked. 

"Yes! Yes! Very much!" 

"I'm trying to stimulate your thought processes," she told him. "I find that 
when I masturbate my own thought processes flow much faster and clearer." 
She started to jerk him with increasing violence. "Dad," she said, "wouldn't 
she divorce you if she knew about you giving it to Aunt Martha up the ass?" 

The father's head rolled and wagged in delicious ecstasy as the young girl's 
slim fingers continued to manipulate his stiff cock. "N-no, I don't think 
so. It'd make her madder than hell but she wouldn't divorce me over 
something like that," he managed to blurt through contorted lips. 

"Well, you're going to have to think of something," she said impatiently. "I 
mean, you do want me, don't you? You're not making a fool out of me, are 
you?-promising to marry me so you can fuck me and handle me whenever you 
feel like it and then pulling the rug out from under me when you've gotten 
tired of my body!" 

"B-but we can't get married!" he exclaimed. Sweat had broken out on his 
face. "That's-that's just not possible!" 

"Oh, I don't mean actually married," she retorted. "But we'll be the next 
thing to it. Well, have you thought about how we're going to get rid of 
mother yet?" 

"N-no...." he replied. The girl gave him a pitying look. "I can see I'm 
really going to have to spark your mental processes," she said. And with 
that she calmly slipped her mouth over her father's penis and began to suck 
it! 

"Oh Jesus," the man cried, moving his hips backward and forward in a slow 
fucking motion. "That's what I want more than anything else in this whole 
world, Jean! Your tongue feels like wet rose petals on my cock. I never 
dreamed that anything could be this good!" Evelyn was genuinely shocked to 
see the pretty youngster blowing her father in an almost professional manner 
... running her tongue up and down his shaft, then bobbing her head 
frantically up and down over it as her long blonde hair swished and swirled 
about her shoulders. 

Suddenly the man reached out and grabbed her by the ears. "Oh," he moaned, 
"take my come in your mouth, please Jean, please! Let me slide my prick all 
the way down 'into your throat ... easy ... it won't hurt, my darling, I 
promise you it won't hurt. Yes, I'm starting to shoot my load. You don't 
have to move your head, dearest-just stay still. And I'm going to stand 
still while my dick spurts its cream into your gullet. Oh God, there it 
goes-it's starting to shoot ... and shoot ... and shoot! Now suck with all 
your might!" 

The youngster's cheeks went hollow as she tried to suck his stem dry. At 
last, trembling, the man pulled his rod away from her eager lips. "Any 
ideas?" she asked, smiling up at him. A trickle of sperm ran slowly out the 
comer of her mouth. 

"Yes," he declared in a low voice. "It just came to me. Your-your Uncle 
Morgan. I know for a fact that he's been coming around to the house during 
the day when I've been at the office and balling your mother pretty much as 
he pleased. I never said anything because they were pretty discreet about 
the matter. But she's thrown it up to me a couple of times about how Morgan 
is really making a name for himself in the business world and how much more 
active he is in social affairs and so forth. I really think that if I 
encouraged her I could bring her around to the point where she'd decide she 
had to have Morgan and demand a divorce from me! 

Yes, I really think that'd work." 

"He had a bigger cock than you too," Jean announced calmly. "Oh Daddy-please 
be careful! You're dripping your scum on the rug-mother will be sure to 
notice." 

The father scuffed the incriminating droplets into the rug with his shoes. 
Then he cried in anguished tones, "What? Bigger cock than me? How do you 
know?" 

"He's exposed himself to me more than once," she replied imperturbably. 
"Ever since I was twelve, the perverted old fuck! Never mind, don't get mad 
at him. We'll get some use out of him now! Well, how did you enjoy my first 
attempt at a suck job? Was I good?" 

"Were you good? You were fantastic! How was it for you, Jean? Do you enjoy 
holding a man's dick in your mouth and swallowing his juice? 

"It was super, Dad. The only thing is, your dick tasted kind of funny. Maybe 
I should have washed it first! When was the last time you had it up Aunt 
Martha's ass?" They both laughed. 

"'There's something else I've got to say," the man ventured seriously. "This 
idea of yours about moving to another town and starting all over again as 
husband and wife-I don't think it would work." 

"Why not?" 

"Because people would get suspicious in a hurry. Even under the best of 
circumstances you do look very young! People would think I had kidnapped you 
or something like that. And if they ever found out the true situation, well. 
... No Jean, I think it would be lots more fun to stay right where we are. 
Once we match your mother up with Uncle Morgan and she goes off to live with 
him we can do anything we like. And do it right under the noses of the 
neighbors and relatives! Doesn't that sound like a ball?" 

"Hey, crazy!" the youngster cried. "Oh Dad, can you imagine how wild it will 
be, you and me fucking right there in the same bed that you and mom sleep in 
now? A whole eight hours in bed together every night with no one to spy on 
us! No one to prevent us from doing anything we like!" Suddenly she took 
hold of his prong saying, "You're still dripping, Dad. It kills me to see 
that good juice going to waste." Pulling him closer she squeezed the last 
few drops of his come into the palm of her hand, then licked them off. "It 
has a faint sweet taste, something like honey, did you know that, Dad? I 
warn you," she declared with a roguish smile, "I'm going to sprinkle your 
honey on my oatmeal once we're settled together. Don't laugh-I am! I'm going 
to jerk you off right in my oatmeal-that way I'll get the cream and sugar at 
the same time!" 

The man allowed her to continue caressing his cock and his balls. "There's 
just one thing that causes me a tiny bit of worry, Jean," he said. "You're 
still a very young girl. How do I know that you won't get tired of me in 
year or so? Suppose you suddenly decide you'd like a boy your own age or 
maybe a couple of years older. It would be a natural thing, let's admit it. 
Then I'd be left alone with no one at all." 

The girl's face became almost grimly serious. "You don't have to worry about 
that, Dad," she said. "I've made up my mind about that detail. I think I 
really decided that a long time ago. It's like I told you before-I'm a very 
shy person. Oh, don't smile! It's true. I know I must seem very bold to you, 
but I'm not really. I-I just can't go through all that hassle that's 
involved with courtship and dating. I just cringe at the idea. I'd almost 
rather die or live like an old maid rather than go through all those stupid 
motions!" 

The father took her by the hand and led her to the small sofa that stood 
against one wall. "But someone your own age would give you the kind of 
social life most girls want," he explained. "And you'd mix with other 
marrieds, have parties, go to football weekends-you know what I mean. Are 
you willing to give that up?" 

"Am I!" the girl cried. "Am I! Just try me!" She suddenly adopted a wooing 
seductive manner. "Daddy," she said, "when I was a little girl, you always 
told me how nice I looked. Don't you like the way I look today? I dressed 
specially for you but you haven't said anything nice about my things. Why is 
that?" 

"Because I'm sometimes forgetful," he said, patting her hand. 

"Well tell me about my nice clothes," she insisted, pouting. "Tell me!" 

"That's not hard," the father said earnestly. "I love those black patent 
leather spike heels of yours. They're very elegant. In fact, once you and I 
have the house to ourselves I'm going to insist that you parade around 
completely naked except for your heels sometimes. You can't imagine how 
stimulating a thing like that can be, my dear. That's because wearing high 
heels throws your weight onto a different set of muscles and makes your ass 
thrust out in a very dominant way. You have such a pretty, well developed 
ass, it's a shame not to make the most of it!" 

"Secondly, I like that flesh colored hose you're wearing today: Are you 
wearing garters with it?" 

"Want to see?" the girl asked mischievously. She slowly raised the hem of 
her skirt up above her stocking tops, revealing first the creamy smooth 
flesh of her thighs, then a brief glimpse of yellow lace panties. "Shall I 
show you my panties?" she asked. "You'll die when you see them!" 

"I was sort of hoping you weren't wearing any," the father declared mildly. 
"Get set!" the girl cried. She yanked the dress up around her waist. 

The man gasped. "It's all cut away in front!" he exclaimed. "I-I can see 
your pussy and all your pussy hair. Where did you ever find lingerie like 
that?" 

"There's a kooky store on Seventh Avenue that sells all kinds of freak stuff 
like this," the girl informed him. She jumped off the sofa and, standing 
brazenly before him with her skirts raised high, practically shoved her 
crotch in his face. The father inserted an insolent finger into the crevice 
so invitingly displayed before him. "You have excellent taste in lingerie, 
my dear," he said. 

"Wait'll you see the rest!" she chortled, turning her back on him and 
displaying her rear. That too was all cut away! The tempting cleft of the 
youngster's asscrack drew the father's probing finger once more. 

"Isn't that super, Dad?" she cried, turning to face him once more. "When I'm 
wearing these you can get at either of my two honey holes with no trouble at 
all. I mean, no matter where we are-at home or out for a drive or having a 
quiet walk some evening-if you want to give me a good feel either in front 
or behind or even stick your dick into me, all you have to do is haul up my 
dress and pick your hole! And now let me show you my bra-that's just as 
wild!" 

She raised her dress with tantalizing slowness. Finally, her superbly formed 
titties were revealed. The father slapped his knee and laughed out loud. 
"Hey, the cups of your bra are cut away too!" he guffawed. "Somehow your 
nipples look even more enticing that way-sticking out through holes in the 
bra!" 

"Oh Daddy!" the girl cried, nearly sobbing with happiness, "you see why it's 
so perfect for us? We know how to please one another so well. If I were to 
get involved with some young fellow, I'd have to spend years breaking him 
in, getting him accustomed to my likes and dislikes, having to adjust my 
ways to his. With you and me that's not necessary. We already know one 
another's little quirks and foibles. I could never find anyone who'd put up 
with my bitchiness the way you do!" 

"Now, now, Jean," the father admonished her, "you're not to say that. You're 
not a bitch!" 

"Oh yes!" the girl declared. "Just wait-you'll see. I'm going to be very 
demanding of you. Wait till we're all alone with no chance of anyone busting 
in on us. I'm going to be bitchy as hell. Just picture yourself after a 
rough night balling me every time I wake you up-balling me or eating my 
pussy every hour on the hour. Imagine yourself half-dead after a night like 
that. You stagger down to the breakfast table-and I yank your prick out of 
your pajama fly and force you to jerk off in my cereal! You won't be quite 
so ready then to declare I'm not a bitch!" 

"Sit down alongside me, child, and let me explain something," the father 
said. As she did so he ran two fingers into the delightfully convenient hole 
in her panties and commenced to masturbate her. "Is it all right if I do 
this, darling? Thank you! Now let me tell you that when it comes to sheer 
rotteness of disposition you could never match your mother. She would have 
her woman friends over for cards and after they'd killed a fifth of my 
scotch, they'd call me in and make me take off my pants. They'd pass me from 
hand to hand, making sarcastic remarks about the size of my penis, the 
freckles on my testicles, the shape of my ass and so forth. Then I'd have to 
screw at least one of them. One night they brought along a stranger-a 
grotesquely skinny woman who was a real nut when it came to taking it up 
both holes at once. One of the other women invited her brother over and 
while he gave it to the skinny one the regular way up the cunt I screwed her 
in the ass. It was the weirdest goddamned scene I've ever gotten mixed up 
in. She was so thin that when I got my cock all the way up her behind I 
could feel the other guy's dong inside her vagina. I felt like some kind of 
queer, rubbing dicks with some other guy like that. But that was typical of 
the situations your mother has gotten me into." 

Jean kissed him tenderly on the cheek. "You don't have to worry," she 
whispered. "I'll never abuse you that way. But it really does sound as 
though you like to bugger! Tell you what, Dad-" Here the girl lay across her 
father's lap in the position a child assumes when it is about to be spanked, 
"-play with my asshole, Dad. Run your finger up there gently. I'm going to 
have to get used to your coming in the back door from time to time so why 
don't you sort of help me get used to the idea? Do you like my ass, Dad? Do 
you really think it's pretty?" 

"It's very pretty, my dear. Your globes are so firm and so round! Packed so 
solid and yet so soft. Some night when we have all the time in the world, 
I'll just make love to your buttocks. You'll be surprised at how much can be 
done with a single piece of anatomy like the rear end. After a while, I may 
be able to make it so sensitive that you'll have an orgasm there just as you 
do in front." 

"Oh, I'd love that," the girl cried. 

"Honestly, I'm learning so much from you, Dad. Gosh, do you think it would 
be possible for us to have another fuck? Or would that be too much to ask, 
coming so soon after a blow job?" 

"I really think we'd better adjust our clothing and get ourselves together 
very soon, Jean. Your mother is apt to put in an appearance at any moment. 
It would hardly do for her to find us like this, you with your legs spread 
in this lascivious posture while I finger fuck you and me with my dong 
hanging out the front of my pants, still dripping from that excellent 
frenching you gave me!" 

"Oh but Dad-this isn't fair! Your finger has got me so hot I'm ready to 
climb the wall." 

"I'm sorry, my dear," the man smirked, "if I've gotten you overexcited, but 
you'll notice I haven't been purposely diddling you. I've only been scraping 
the honey from inside your adorable little snatch and now I'm going to have 
my first taste!" A crystalline fluid dripped from the father's fingers as he 
withdrew them from the girl's twat. Hastily, so as not to lose more than a 
drop or two, he popped his fingers into his mouth and began to suck them 
greedily. He rolled his eyes. "Mother of God, that tastes good!" he 
exclaimed. "Your juice has such a fresh clean taste-more like new cider than 
honey actually." 

"Let me taste," the girl beseeched him, trying to grab his hand. 

"No, no, this is all mine," the father retorted laughingly, keeping out of 
her reach. 

"Oh father, you really are such a prick!" she pouted. "Well, I'll get even 
with you, wait and see!" Altering her tone, she then said, "Gosh, I have to 
go to the bathroom something awful! Daddy, you know how I like it when you 
treat me like your little girl ... like when I was real little and couldn't 
take care of myself. Daddy, take down my pants and put me on the potty." 

"Of course, my dear," the man replied instantly. "You are my little girl and 
all you have to do is ask for what you want and I'll see that you get it." 

With this, he stood up, picked his daughter up in his arms and carried her 
out of the room, hi the bathroom, they were of course out of Evelyn's vision 
but she heard the girl say, "You see what I mean, Daddy? No husband would 
treat me like this, picking me up, carrying me into the bathroom, taking 
down my pants and setting me on the toilet. No husband would be this gentle. 
Oh, I really had to go a long time ago but it felt so good sitting there on 
the sofa with you, letting your hand explore inside me, I just couldn't 
bring myself to get up. Wow, I've never had such a good piss! Um ... that 
feels nice ... God, I must have squirted a gallon. Are you sure you don't 
mind watching me while I'm on the toilet?" 

The ring of the telephone came as such an intrusion that Evelyn nearly 
jumped out of her skin. Her first thought was: it must be a mistake. Who 
would phone me? Then she thought: it must be a long distance call from home! 
I wonder if there's trouble? Oh dear, if something has happened to KenShe 
snatched up the phone. "Yes?" she said in a tremulous voice. It was Miles! 
She recognized the voice instantly. "Why Miles-what a pleasant surprise! I 
wasn't sure I'd ever hear from you again. How have you been? What? This 
evening? Why, I'd love to! Let's say around seven, all right? Oh, I'd better 
tell you, I can't meet you here-no, I'm moving. Got a pencil? I'll give you 
my new address and you can pick me up there...." She gave him the address. 
She was floating on air when she placed the receiver back on the hook. 
Miles! And she had almost convinced herself she would never set eyes on him 
again. 

She raced through her packing-thank heavens she hadn't removed more than the 
essentials from her suitcases. Snapping them shut at last, she threw one 
final lingering glance at the door separating her from the family in the 
next room. What strange lives people lead, she reflected. To see those 
people on the street, they'd seem no different from any other small American 
family, quiet in their ways and very conventional. But place them in the 
privacy of a room and all hell breaks loose! I wonder how that particular 
story will end? I'll never know but I'll always wonder.... 

She would have to scurry to do everything that had to be done before Miles 
called for her. Check out ... convey her luggage uptown ... straighten out 
her new place a little ... unpack ... shower ... dress-when the doorbell 
sounded promptly at seven she had gotten everything in order and was just 
applying the finishing touch to her makeup. 

"Great timing!" she exclaimed when she greeted Miles at the door. "What a 
day I've had! So many things to be done! But I've gotten them all out of the 
way and now I'm all yours, Miles." She eyed him keenly to see how he would 
take this last remark. 

But he only smiled noncommittally and said, "I know a nice little place we 
can go just down the block. Ready?" 

The place in mind turned out to be a tiny cocktail lounge which seemed to 
have been installed in the pub style restaurant as an afterthought. As they 
sat over their vodka martinis, Evelyn said, "Well, Miles, I'll have to tell 
you again-this is such a pleasant surprise. Somehow, when you left me last 
night I'd gotten the impression I'd done or said something that might have 
offended you. Had I?" 

Gazing at her warmly, Miles replied, "Not at all, Evelyn-far from it! It's 
just that-well, perhaps this is the time to lay my cards on the table." He 
explained his present financial situation, dwelt at some length on his plans 
and ambitions for the future and concluded by saying, "So that's it, Evelyn. 
I really don't have the wherewithal to entertain you in the style to which 
I'm sure you're accustomed. A year from now it may be a very different story 
but right now I'm cramped. I wasn't going to see you again because most 
women are impatient with excuses. But after thinking it over I felt you 
might be different. At any rate I knew I had to see you at least one more 
time!" 

Evelyn placed her hand on his arm. "Oh Miles!" she cried commiseratingly. "I 
understand! How could you think I wouldn't? Look-what plans did you have for 
the evening after we finish our drinks?" 

"Well," he said, "I though we might eat here-" 

"Not a bit of it!" she informed him sternly. "This place looks like a cheese 
sandwich would cost you an arm and a leg. I have a better idea. Couldn't we 
buy some food in a supermarket somewhere and take it back to your place and 
cook it? It would taste better I can assure you and we could be so much more 
comfortable." 

She could tell immediately from the way his face lighted up that he liked 
the idea. They found a supermarket on Second Avenue that sold packaged 
steaks. They bought a bagful of groceries as well and took a cab to Miles' 
apartment in the east eighties. 

As they entered, Evelyn's eyes immediately went wide. "What a beautiful 
place you have, Miles!" she cried. "I love these modern things-all this 
redwood and polished chrome! Where's your hi-fi?" 

Miles indicated the cabinet with his forefinger. Then while he went into the 
kitchen and started readying things, Evelyn turned on the hi-fi and selected 
a station with some appropriately romantic music. Then she joined Miles in 
the kitchen. "Got an apron?" she demanded. "I'm the chef tonight!" 

Miles seemed to enjoy her dinner to the fullest. They had an espresso and 
brandy afterwards, then he pulled her to her feet and they began to dance to 
the dreamy rhythms of Mantovani. She cuddled his cheek to hers and allowed 
her body to melt close to his gracefully masculine frame. 

Swaying to the music, her eyes closed, Evelyn thought: If he tries to become 
intimate with me tonight, I won't refuse him. Even though it's only our 
first real date, it's the second time we've seen one another so why stand on 
formality? I wouldn't want him to be crude about it but if he were to hold 
me very, very close and gradually lift my skirt higher and higher and then 
slowly, gently, lovingly start to feel up my ass, what would be wrong with 
that? When he saw that I didn't object to his attentions so far, I presume 
he might insert his thigh between my legs in such a way that I could feel 
his erect dick against my crotch and when I didn't protest his rubbing it 
against me, I'm sure he'd get the message. He'd draw me down to the sofa and 
we'd get into some serious petting. After all, he knows I've been married. 
I'm not one of those professional virgins that hang out in those damned 
bars. So he knows he can stick his finger up my pussy ... he knows I'll 
cream for him and when he sees how wet and sloppy I get between the legs 
he'll know it's time to lead me into the bedroom and show me how hard one 
hundred and eighty pounds of solid masculine flesh can sock a stiff prick 
into my soft, willing pussy.... 

But after they had danced a while, Miles only said, "Well, it's getting to 
be near midnight and I have a tough schedule lined up for tomorrow. I'm sure 
you have things to do too. Maybe I'd better take you home." 

Rendered practically speechless with surprise, Evelyn could only sputter, 
"Well ... all right ... if that's the way it is!" He offered to take her 
home but she resolutely rejected the offer. "Please don't think you have to 
see me to the door," she said. "I'm a big girl, I'll get home all right. 
Thanks for a wonderful evening, Miles." 

The fellow has to be queer, she decided bitterly. My first instincts were 
right! He's one of those homos who enjoy feminine companionship but can't 
get it up for a girl. The hell with him! I never want to see him again! 

But the kiss he planted on her astonished mouth at the door didn't feel like 
a queer's! And his warm embrace was as musculine as a girl could desire. 

What is with this fellow? Evelyn asked herself frantically as she flagged 
down a cab to take her home. Why doesn't he respond? Why doesn't he just 
throw me down and screw me silly? 

 CHAPTER SEVEN 

MILES MAKES IT 

Miles' perplexing behavior might have seemed far less puzzling if Evelyn 
could have observed him during a typical day at the salon. 

It was two days following his date with Evelyn that Miles was summoned to 
the office of his employer, Miss Steele, at about ten in the morning. Miss 
Steele exhibited her lithe miniskirted figure to excellent advantage by 
resting her shoes on the desk as she said, "I've got a good one waiting for 
you in the Gold Room, Miles. It's a Miss Forster. She just stumbled in here 
more or less by accident yesterday, wondering if we could do something to 
sharpen up her appearance. As soon as I learned she had just inherited close 
to a million dollars, I decided there was no limit to what we could do! 

"She's pretty much a mess as she stands, Miles; she comes from a little town 
upstate. She knows absolutely nothing about makeup, figure care, clothes, or 
anything else. She's about the most unsophisticated person I've ever seen. 
Having said that, I'd also like to emphasize that she has a good basis for 
improvement. She has a good body structure; she's not fat and I think she's 
intelligent enough to follow along with a well thought out program. 

"Miles, I want you to sell her the whole ball of wax-the works! Makeup, 
slim-down, exercise, wardrobe selection-everything under the roof. Like I 
said, she's got a whole million dollars to play around with and she might as 
well spend some of it here. If you can sell her the whole fucking package 
there'll be a nice hefty bonus in your next pay envelope!" 

He understood very well what she meant by a "nice hefty bonus." It could be 
as much as five hundred dollars-bringing him significantly nearer to the day 
when he could cut loose on his own. 

The gold room took its name from it domed gold-colored ceiling. The walls 
were lined with mirrors and the floor was carpeted with an ankle deep rug in 
the softest of grays. Miss Forster was sitting in an overstuffed French 
provincial armchair reading a magazine. 

She looked up unhappily as they entered but when her eyes came to rest on 
Miles her manner eased somewhat. Miss Steele led him over to Miss Forster 
and said in her most cordial manner, "Miss Forster, I'd like you to meet Mr. 
Miles Edwards. He is our most experienced, most skillful operator. I'd like 
you to talk with him for a few moments. Please feel free to ask him any 
questions you like. And if there's any demonstration of our techniques that 
you'd like him to perform, don't hesitate to request it. There will be no 
charge for this introductory service. All right?" She darted a winning smile 
at the woman, gave Miles' arm a little squeeze and disappeared. 

Miss Forster still looked unhappy. She threw aside the magazine and folded 
her hands in her lap. Miles took an instant to size her up. She was 
obviously in her late thirties and unmistakably dowdy. Her dress was a dead 
shade of brown, her hair showing the painful results of a misconceived 
venture in home dying, her shoes were run over, she used too much powder, 
and had a tendency to slump. 

But at the same time she had good bone structure in face and body, an alert 
manner, and could, Miles decided, be turned into a truly handsome woman with 
just a little care and perseverance. For once he was inclined to agree with 
Miss Steele that whatever Miss Forster decided to invest in improving her 
personal appearance would repay her many times over. Accordingly, he 
resolved to go all out in doing whatever had to be done to bring her around. 

"Miss Forster," he said, "before we do anything else, I'd like to make my 
own personal evaluation. Will you be good enough to stand, please?" The 
woman got to her feet somewhat awkwardly and regarded Miles in an abashed 
manner while he boldly looked her over. She had an even better figure than 
he had at first surmised! Just an ounce or so off the tummy and thighs and 
it might even verge on the voluptuous! Her breasts were medium sized but 
well shaped and her rear end was a magnificent piece of sculpture. 

When Miles had finished his appraisal he said briskly, "Miss Forster, I'm 
going to be perfectly honest with you. Miss Steele and I do not always agree 
in these matters; quite frankly, she tends to flatter the customer. I tend 
to be rather blunt. Therefore, I must tell you that viewed in the eyes of 
the 'man in the street,' you are a total disaster!" 

Miss Forster's mouth dropped open. After Miss Steele's honeyed flattery, 
this was the last thing in he world she expected to hear! "Well," she said, 
shifting awkwardly from one foot to the other, "I didn't realize I was quite 
that far gone. That means there's no hope, doesn't it?" 

Miles shook his head decisively. "Far from it! I think a great deal can be 
done. But it means that you would have to lose every prejudice ... drop 
every opinion ... forget every misconception you presently hold about 
personal grooming. Frankly, if you were to ask me to redesign your hairdo or 
give you a facial, I'd have to refuse!" 

The woman bit her lip. "Why is that?" she asked. 

"Because a facial or a new coiffure or a muscle toning treatment would 
delude you into thinking we were making you beautiful. This would be a cruel 
error." 

She winced. "You mean I'm just plain homely and nothing can be done about 
it, is that it?" 

"No," he informed her, "I mean just the opposite. You are already beautiful! 
You have a beautiful face and a truly exciting body. But for some 
reason-early influences I suppose-you persist in dragging yourself down. 
Miss Forster," he said, approaching closely, so closely she could feel his 
breath on her face, "I want to restructure you from head to toe. Will you 
give me an hour or so to show you how this might be done? At no charge? With 
no obligation?" 

She smiled timidly. "Well," she murmured, "I don't see why not. On that 
basis I guess I have nothing to lose, right?" 

"You have everything to gain," he informed her enthusiastically. "I presume 
Miss Steele has told you that we are firm believers in what we call 'Beauty 
Indivisible.' That means we offer expert guidance not only in makeup and 
hairdo but also in exercise and muscle toning, choice of wardrobe, 
everything!" 

"Well yes, she said something about it. I-I guess I could use some good 
advice on all those things. My clothes for example-" 

"Your clothes are a mess! Excuse me, Miss Forster, but I must speak honestly 
or not at all. And that brings me to the next point. As you probably know 
the women who come here usually change into leotards before we begin the 
treatment. Do you have them?" 

"Leo-leo what? I don't believe I know what they are." 

"They are a skin tight costume that permits a great freedom of movement. Oh 
well, for this one time you can take the treatment in your underwear!" He 
slid aside a mirrored panel to disclose a tiny dressing room. "Please remove 
your dress and leave it in here. Your slip too. But not another thing, 
please!" 

Would she do it? he wondered. She was obviously a very inhibited type. He 
was practically certain she had never exhibited herself in her scanties 
before a man in her entire life. She gulped, thought a moment, then said 
slowly, "Well ... I-I guess it's all right. Fellows like you must see plenty 
of women every day in those brief daring costumes. You probably don't think 
anything of it. All-all right." She went into the dressing cubicle and 
closed the door behind her. 

She was a long time about the simple operation of removing her dress and 
slip. Perhaps she's lost her nerve, Miles thought. But after several minutes 
the panel finally slid open and Miss Forster stepped out. Miles felt an 
electric tingle shoot through his groin. With that baggy brown dress out of 
the way, Miss Forster was totally transformed! Her hips and thighs had a 
magnificent fullness that was clearly made for fondling, light squeezes, 
caressing, kissing. There wasn't a straight line on her anywhere! Her ass 
had a majestic roll when she walked. As one cheek quivered and contracted 
the other would distend and blossom to the full extent of its luscious 
curvature. Her arrogantly pouting breasts, inadequately restrained by a 
gauzy bra, revealed delicate blue veining that only served to accentuate the 
translucent whiteness of their tightly drawn skin. Her belly was a dimpled 
landscape of prick-stiffening anticipation that dived into a lush tangle of 
glossy black pussy hair that extended far above the elastic band of her 
sheer white nylon panties. 

She approached him timidly. "I-I guess my underthings are a trifle 
revealing, aren't they?" she stammered. "I'd have worn something else if I'd 
known I'd have to show myself in front of a man!" 

Conscious-all too keenly-that his prick was just on the point of snapping to 
attention, Miles strove to preserve a severely business-like air. "All right 
now, Miss Forster," he said austerely, "I want to examine you first for 
posture. Please walk up and down in front of me a few times." 

She did so. Holy smoke! Miles thought silently, the way that fantastic can 
of hers manages to roll and jiggle at the same time-I don't know how I can 
stand it! After a few moments, he commanded, "All right, you can stop now. 
Stand here in front of me, Miss Forster. Turn around ... face away from me, 
please." 

She obeyed. "Aha, just as I thought!" he exclaimed sharply. "This lingerie 
is totally unsuitable for you. Your panties have crept up into the crack 
between your buttocks and become wedged in there. I'm sure that doesn't feel 
very comfortable, does it?" He deliberately inserted his fingers into her 
asscrack and dislodged the sodden rope of nylon that had lodged there. He 
took his time about smoothing her panties over her richly succulent 
assglobes. "Now doesn't that feel better?" 

Miss Forster's face flared the deepest shade of crimson Miles had ever seen 
as she answered, "Yes," in a low whisper. 

Miles rose from his kneeling position and went around to look at her from 
the front. After a moment he rendered his verdict. "That bra is definitely 
not right for you," he declared. "I'm not even sure you should be wearing a 
bra. Kindly remove it for a moment." 

"Is-is that completely necessary?" she asked. "Really, I'm beginning to feel 
terribly embarrassed." 

"Of course it's not necessary," he snapped. "Let me call Miss Steele on the 
intercom. She'll assign you to an operator who is not accustomed to making 
as thorough an evaluation as I am!" He reached for the intercom button. Miss 
Forster quickly restrained him. 

"It's-it's all right," she cried, reaching up behind herself to unhook the 
bra. "I trust you, Mr. Edwards. I-I must admit there was something about you 
I liked from first sight. Please continue. I'm putting myself entirely in 
your hands." 

"All right," Miles replied, mollified. He eyed her bust keenly as she 
removed its clinging coverage. "Miss Forster, I think you'll be glad of your 
decision. Because I can tell you, you have no need of support for your 
breasts whatsoever. Throw away your bra! Fortunately the braless look is 
fashionable today. Isn't it nice to be in fashion?" 

She stared down at her breasts. "No bra? Are you sure?" 

"Absolutely. Your breasts are so firm and solidly fleshed that I would 
recommend only one thing: a skin tightening cream. I think I may have a 
sample here...." Miles rummaged in a drawer of the eighteenth century style 
desk and emerged with a small jar of white cream. He handed it over to the 
woman, saying, "Kindly smear some of this on your bust. See how cool it 
feels. Notice the astringent action. It will help support your bust without 
artificial help." 

He watched her face as she removed some of the cream from the jar with her 
fingertips and smoothed it gingerly over her breasts. "Rub it in good," he 
advised. "Especially on the undersides and around the nipples." 

She obeyed him. Gradually, he noticed, she commenced to breathe deeper. 
Perspiration appeared on her upper lip and forehead. Just as he thought-her 
breasts were an unusually sensitive erogenous zone. She was probably the 
type who could masturbate to orgasm simply by fondling her nipples. 

"Oh yes," she breathed, "my goodness, yes-that is a good cream, isn't it? So 
tingly ... so stimulating...." Miles continued to watch as she scooped 
practically the entire contents from the jar and slathered it over her 
quivering boobs. "Oh, I must buy a large jar of this before I go today. This 
is what I'll use from now on. And no more bra!" 

"You see?" Miles smiled. "We're making progress already! Now, Miss Forster, 
as you no doubt realize, a very important aspect of your personal grooming 
is your special deodorant protection. Today, one deodorant is no longer 
considered sufficient. Let's discuss your underarm protection first. I'm 
sure you use some kind of deodorant there-most people do. But most people 
also do not realize that not all such products prevent perspiration. Some 
do-some definitely do not! Miss Forster, kindly raise your arms-I want to 
examine you for traces of both odor and sweat. Do you mind? Very good!" 

Obviously somewhat embarrassed, Miss Forster raised her arms high over her 
head, imparting a delightful cup-like aspect to her breasts as she did so. 
Miles eyed her armpits closely, then ran his nostrils up and down over this 
sensitive area of her body, letting the tip of his nose just graze the skin. 
It was immediately apparent from the tiny beads of perspiration that started 
to break out in the hollows and run down the sides of her rib cage that he 
was exciting her by this maneuver. 

"Hm," he observed half aloud, "I notice some slight moisture here but 
practically no odor whatsoever. Frankly, I would continue to use whatever 
product you're currently using. May I tell you a slight secret of male 
psychology, Miss Forster?" 

She broke into a broad smile as she lowered her arms. "Please do," she said. 

"All right-it's this-a little moisture doesn't hurt. Most men are turned on 
by the sight of a woman sweating. What if your dress does get soaked under 
the armpits. It can be easily cleaned. It's a small price to pay to win over 
the man you want. Do you understand?" 

"Why-why I never knew that! That's very interesting. Heavens, I am learning 
things today!" 

"And-" Miles went on, "-if the man is truly interested in you he'll be glad 
to do what I'm now about to do." And with this Miles gently raised her arm 
once more and began to lick the sweat that was now streaming from the 
hollows of her armpits! His zealous tongue quested all over her underarm 
area, down over her ribs and flicked the sides of her breast once or twice. 
When she made no objection he continued on both sides of her body for about 
five minutes. He could not help noting how her breasts quivered and twitched 
uncontrollably during this action. 

Finally he raised his head and winked discreetly. "There's no charge for 
this service, Miss Forster," he observed. "That's just a little tip I'm 
throwing in gratis!" 

She swallowed hard. "Well...." she breathed, "I-I certainly am very grateful 
for your advice, Mr. Edwards. But tell me something-what did you mean when 
you said that one deodorant is no longer considered sufficient?" 

"Oh well," Miles replied offhandedly, "I'm sure you're acquainted with the 
fact that special vaginal deodorants are now on the market. Do you mind 
telling me which one you use?" 

The woman's face flamed scarlet as she said, "Oh-I-I don't use any! I don't 
see the need for it. I mean, they're mostly designed for women who have 
boyfriends. I mean, I never-" And she broke off in rosy confusion. 

Miles assumed an air of unbelief. "Oh come now, Miss Forster," he exclaimed, 
"I can't believe you don't-have a boyfriend. You mean you don't have as many 
as you'd like! But since you're not using a deodorant, I will recommend one. 
Please remove your panties so I can investigate your vaginal area." 

Her mouth dropped open. "You mean-you mean-" 

"Well of course," Miles explained blandly, "it is necessary for me to 
actually smell you down there. And to examine you for evidence of moisture. 
Otherwise, I'd have to proceed on guesswork. Would you want that?" 

Stunned, she murmured, "Oh no, no-I wouldn't want that." She gulped, skinned 
out of her panties and dropped them on the floor. 

Miles dropped to his knees. He ran his hands lightly up and down the inner 
surfaces of her thighs several times, then reported, "Yes, you're quite 
moist here, Miss Forster. But that's not necessarily a handicap. Now we come 
to the critical part-" And with this he began to probe her pussy with the 
tip of his nose. Very delicately and cautiously at first, then with 
increasing boldness. He ran his nose lightly over her pussy lips, then 
commenced to ease them aside as he intruded deeper ... deeper . ... Oh God, 
yes, it was moist in here! Moist and fragrant! With supreme gentleness he 
exhaled his ardent breath over her virginally sensitive cunt tissue, taking 
care not to bruise or to be too boldly insistent. Further inside he 
penetrated ... further ... now he was masturbating her clitoris with the 
bridge of his nose while he exhaled a titillating stream of breath over the 
surrounding tissues. 

He felt her body go nearly limp. At the same time with unerring womanly 
instinct she jutted, her hips forward, relaxing her pussy lips so that he 
might go as deep as he liked. Simultaneously a gush of sweet muskily scented 
fluid began to emanate from within, running down over Miles' upper Up and 
soaking his mouth. He sipped it as one sips a fine liqueur.... 

Good God, this was becoming too much! He hadn't planned it this way at all. 
He only had intended to stimulate the woman a bit, make her conscious of her 
feminimity so she'd take a few beauty treatments, let Miss Steele handle her 
grooming requirements. That was all! 

He tore his face away from the creamy abundance of her yielding snatch. 
"I-I'd recommend your using our Vaginal Deodorant X-19," he said in 
desperately matter-of-fact tones. "It will also help control the flow of 
moisture. You are very, very wet between the legs." 

Miss Forster had a strange transfixed look on her face. A new light gleamed 
in her eyes faintly, then with increasing intensity as she said, "Thank you, 
Mr. Edwards. While we're on the subject, there is one other thing I've often 
wondered about. May-may I speak freely?" 

"Of course, Miss Forster." 

"How about my backside? Would-would I be too bold if I asked you to see if I 
needed anything down there?" 

"I'm very glad to hear you mention that, Miss Forster!" he said. "Many women 
are too bashful to discuss that portion of the anatomy. And yet I always 
feel that I have short changed a patron unless I give her what I call an 
'ass analysis!' I hope I don't shock you by using a term like that." 

"Oh no! Please-please use any words you feel are apropos, Mr. Edwards. If 
you want to say ass or anything else, do so by all means!" He . could see 
her blush again as she spoke. Clearly the use of such language was an 
adventure for her. 

"All right," he continued authoritatively, "I think you'll be pleased by the 
thoroughness of my analysis." First he allowed his hands to glide lightly, 
lovingly over her buttocks. "Yes," he said, "most women do not realize how 
strongly the male is attracted to the rear portion of the body. Now you, 
Miss Forster, have a lovely, firm, solid ass that most women would be proud 
of. Eventually you may have a problem with sagging so I would advise you 
using the same skin-tightening cream that you'll be applying to your 
breasts. But as of now you have a behind that you should definitely make the 
most of. You should wear garments that will make these luscious curves stand 
out. When you are entertaining in your home wear short skirts and bend over 
casually at strategic moments in order to display your treasures to the man 
of your choice. 

"I strongly advise against pantyhose for a woman of your special endowments. 
Instead wear the briefest possible bikini panties-just substantial enough to 
soak up your natural juices. Wear tinted hose to match your dress and 
garters along with a garter belt. Men are much more attentive to these 
matters than you suppose! That way, when you bend over a coffee table you'll 
present your gentleman friend not only with a breathtaking view of your 
marvelously fleshed ass, but also with a vision of your upper thighs as 
well, rather brazenly displayed over the tops of your tinted stockings. Do 
you understand what I mean?" By now Miss Forster had turned the fiery 
glowing color of a boiled lobster but she did not flinch from the 
adventurous situation in which she suddenly found herself. "Yes," she 
murmured, "I-I think I do. But if I do make a display of my a-ass and thrust 
it enticingly into a man's face as you suggest, doesn't this mean I have to 
use some sort of doedorant between my buttocks? I mean, don't I run the risk 
of offending if I shove a smelly crack underneath a gentleman's nose?" He 
could see she had all she could do to declare herself with such boldness! 

"I was just coming to that," Miles said easily. "This is all part of what I 
mean by my 'ass analysis!'" He dropped to his knees, cupped her asscheeks in 
his hand and gently spread them. Then, impudently inserting his nose deep 
within the crack, he made it plow the damp hairy ravine up and down, up and 
down, hungrily inhaling the confusion of rich, exotic odors. He heard her 
gasp. She bent forward slightly to allow him even greater penetration. He 
took advantage of her willingness to ream the tip of his nose as far up her 
asshole as was physically possible, titillating and stimulating the firm 
elastic tissue tenderly but insistently. Then with a suddeness that made her 
moan with ill-concealed disappointment, he withdrew it and said, "Your smell 
is not offensive, Miss Forster. But if you felt you needed some sort of 
drying, deodorizing agent there, we have a very gentle preparation we call 
Agent A-41." 

She turned slowly and faced him. Her face was a perfect mask of erotic 
agony. "I-I have a further question," she stammered. "As you said, I do tend 
to get very wet between the legs. Look at me now-my vagina is simply 
dripping! My thighs are soaked with juice and I'm soppy around the ass too. 
Now-now suppose I were entertaining a gentleman friend in private and I just 
happened by accident to let him see the condition of my crotch-let's say 
that I just happened to forget to wear my panties that evening-well, I was 
wondering-" 

She seemed unable to speak further so Miles said, "Yes?" 

"-I was wondering if the gentleman might feel it was in order to-to do what 
you did before when you saw I was sweating under the armpits ... and remove 
the excess liquid on my thighs and around my crotch with his tongue ... so 
it wouldn't stain my dress...." 

"Of course!" Miles assured her. Now, very reverently, he began to lick at 
her legs, starting at the knees and gradually working upward. Oh God, her 
juices had an intoxicating quality that made his cock twitch and thrash 
about in his pants like a maddened snake! Upward ... upward ... now her 
glorious thatch of crisp pussy hair loomed only an inch from his lips. He 
commenced to mouth it, to draw the delectable strands of piss-scented hair 
into his mouth and chew like an exotic candy. 

Finally his tongue delved thirstily into the holy of holies-the pink gaping 
female slit itself. Miss Forster stood with her trembling legs well apart, 
her pelvis thrust forward, moaning slightly as Miles commenced to suck and 
lap at the custardy goodness that flowed so generously from the innermost 
fountainhead of her femininity. Totally oblivious of consequences, he 
imbibed her richness with a smacking, slurpy sound that was punctuated by 
gurgles of sheer delight. 

Then when he had thoroughly laved her in front, he inserted himself between 
her legs and made his tongue journey repeatedly through the brushy cleft of 
her moist narrow asscrack. 

"Oh God, oh God," Miss Forster commenced to groan, "I-I never dreamed that 
men could do such nice things for a woman. When I think of the years I've 
wasted! I thought that the only way a man could kiss a woman was on the 
lips. Mr. Edwards, you may not believe it but I do have a boyfriend-he's the 
arithmetic teacher in the local high school back home. I-oh, oh, what's that 
you're sticking up my asshole? Is it your tongue? Oh yes, stick it in as far 
as you can! Like-like I was saying, the first thing I'm going to do when I 
get back home is to make him suck the sweat from my pussy! Then I'm going to 
make him treat my asshole like it was my mouth. The fool! I'll make him pay 
for all those years of sitting on the sofa holding hands while we drank tea. 
I'm going to bend over and stick my ass in his face and say-Harold, tell me 
nice things about my behind! Tell me how cute it looks ... how nice it 
smells ... tell me how nice my asshole is shaped and what a pretty color it 
has! And then he's going to kiss it and kiss it and kiss it...." 

At length Miles had to give up. His tongue was a slab of numb powerless 
flesh when he finally withdrew his face from Miss Forster's palpitating 
crotch. She looked around at him. "Oh!" she cried disappointedly, "are you 
finished already? That was very nice, what you just did for me, Mr. Edwards. 
I won't forget it, you can be sure of that. Now, are there any other aspects 
of good grooming in which you'd like to instruct me?" 

"Well...." Miles mumbled, "I do have one additional suggestion. Many 
fastidious women like to keep themselves shaved between the legs and around 
the vagina. You'll find it makes it easier to keep yourself clean and sweet 
smelling in that area...." 

"Oh," Miss Forster cried. A pleased expression stole over her features. "I 
think that's an excellent idea! Would you shave me down there? Would you, 
Mr. Edwards?" 

"Of course, Miss Forster," Miles replied, still panting from his exertions. 
"That's what I'm here for." He went to the cabinet and took out a can of 
self-foaming shaving cream, the type that automatically comes hot from the 
can. Then once more kneeling before the woman, he expelled a generous gob of 
the hot lather onto her mound of pussy hairs and began to work it into the 
pubic area. 

A dazed look came over Miss Forster's face. "That's right," she murmured, 
"work it in good there. Put lots of lather between my legs and smear it 
hard. Oh, and I want you to shave me between the cheeks of my ass too so put 
lots there. Yes, Mr. Edwards, massage it in! Don't you think I should have 
more on my pussy? Better too much than too little-" 

Miles emptied half the can of lather between her legs and began to massage 
it into her thighs, all over her ass, into every crack and crevice he could 
find. Driven by some unerring instinct, Miss Forster gradually sank to the 
floor and drawing her knees up to her chin, opened her crotch to him, 
spreading it like a trayful of rich, whipped cream top pastry. As Miles 
thrust his fingers deep into her snatch, simultaneously caressing her 
lather-bathed ass, thighs, and belly with the other hand, Miss Forster began 
to drool in sheer delight. Foam bubbled from her lips as she mumbled, 
"Deeper ... deeper. Stick your whole hand inside me. Stick your whole arm in 
if you want to. Oh, Mr. Edwards, the next time I come here we'll spend hours 
just doing this, nothing else!" 

Driven by the ever tightening coil of her aroused frenzy, her head commenced 
to whip back and forth while her eyes goggled, unseeing. Spit flew from her 
mouth. It was clear to Miles that the woman had never undergone anything 
like this in the past and quite literally did not know what to do. Although 
she was experiencing the closest thing to heaven between her legs she wanted 
something more ... her mouth pouted and grimaced. Suddenly she uncoiled and 
while Miles still made his sopping, slippery hand invade her innermost 
recesses, her face dived to his crotch and her mouth nuzzled the bulging 
fabric of his pants. 

She moaned pitifully. To Miles she seemed like a wild creature of the 
forest, one of those soft cuddly cubs that are born blind and in the first 
few moments after birth blindly seek the tit that will bring them needed 
sustenance. So too her mouth groped blindly for the tit or nozzle or outlet 
that would slake her thirst and satisfy the deep primal yearning within her. 

Gaping and snapping her mouth roamed over his pants crotch, nudging the 
source of life within, desperately, blindly seeking a way inside. Dreading 
to see Miss Forster in this condition, Miles flipped open his zipper and let 
the great warm mound of his genitals well forth. Immediately the hungry 
mouth closed over the tip of his cock and began to suck contentedly, the 
very picture of the infant that has finally found its mother's tit. 

"Um," she moaned, "mm!" Miles continued to ransack the treasure house of her 
body with his fingers. While one hand prodded and stimulated her pussy, 
another foam slick hand was busy at her asshole, tickling it, reaming it, 
fucking its virginal cavern, exploring the depths his tongue could never 
hope to penetrate. 

He could feel her body tightening-the thrilling agony of orgasm was 
beginning. He made his bold hand plunder her honey hole like an invading 
army on the move. At the same time he felt the ravishing effects of her 
loving mouth on his squirming dick. He could feel his semen start to simmer 
and boil inside his own bag of goodies. It was the first time he had ever 
had a virgin cock on his mouth and the knowledge that in a few seconds his 
hot seed would spill torrentially into Miss Forster's surprised mouth 
multiplied his pleasure manyfold. 

Both their bodies jerked and thrashed in the spasms of orgasm at the same 
moment. As the woman drove her pussy against his wedged fingers with all her 
force, he attempted to drive his pile driving prick halfway down her gullet. 
In their ecstasy they knocked over a table full of cosmetic jars and the 
wild flying shaving foam soon made the rug look like a white capped, storm 
tossed sea! 

When their fury was finally spent they lay there for a time. Then Miss 
Forster dazedly removed Miles' prick from her mouth. She squeezed the tip 
and extruded a drop of sperm onto her finger tip. She regarded it curiously 
for a moment, then said passionately, "Oh, this is the first time I've ever 
seen a man's semen. It-it looks something like snot, doesn't it? Oh Mr. 
Edwards, let me suck some more of the snot from your dick!" And she 
voraciously applied her lips to his cock once more! 

When she had drained his cock of every last lingering drop she lay back 
contentedly on the rug and said, "Well, we never did get around to shaving 
me, did we?" 

"No," Miles replied. "I can still do it if you like." 

"No ... no," she murmured, "let's leave that for the next time I come here, 
all right?" 

She reflected a moment, then said, "I've just been thinking-I may not go 
back to my home town for a good long time. There-there are so many 
interesting things to do right here in New York! And such interesting men to 
do them with!" 

When she had gone Miss Steele summoned Miles to her office. Smiling, she 
said, "Well, everything seems to have gone well with Miss Forster, hasn't 
it? She's pl-edged herself to my complete program and paid in advance! What 
did you do to bring her around so fast?" 

"I simply convinced her that she has a basic fascination for men and that 
it's a shame to let a careless appearance detract from her fascination." 

"Umm ... I'll admit she looked about a thousand percent better when she left 
than she did on arrival. In fact, I would have characterized her as 'dead on 
arrival!' Care to tell me how you injected the spark of life into her?" 

"Let's just say I injected it!" 

Miss Steele smiled sardonically. "Was it an injection in the hips or an oral 
injection?" she asked. 

"I've forgotten," he said offhandedly. "But she pointedly remarked on the 
fact that there was no pain associated with it!" 

 CHAPTER EIGHT 

SWEET WET DREAMS 

Miles had an arduous day. As it was drawing to a close it suddenly occurred 
to him how nice it would be to spend the evening with Evelyn-if she was 
still talking to him! She had seemed rather cool at their last parting and 
he wondered why. Was it because she expected him to push matters a bit 
faster? She seemed like such a wholesome, unsophisticated person-hardly the 
type who would want sex on the first or second date. But you never knew! At 
any rate, he was becoming seriously interested in her and didn't want to 
spoil matters by any premature moves. 

Actually Evelyn had forgotten her initial irritation at Miles' slowness. 
Although it was tremendously more difficult for her to restrain herself than 
it was for him, she was resigned to gritting her teeth and simply waiting 
for him to make the first move. Suppose he had a genuine romantic interest 
in her! Wouldn't that be absolute heaven? Sitting at home that evening, her 
eyes closed as she relaxed after a day of fixing up the new apartment she 
visualized herself married to Miles: the wedding night when she would 
pretend shyness and conceal her ardor, but slyly persuading him to ream her 
again and again all throughout the night and perhaps well into the next 
morning! ... the succeeding nights when they would gradually become bolder 
and bolder in their lovemaking, less inhibited.... 

Evelyn's hand stole between her legs as she visualized the night when at 
last she would take Miles' cock in her mouth and suck him while he applied 
his strong virile tongue to her cunt. That would be the night when she would 
drop her mask and entice him into making love all night. It would be the 
night when his mouth and tongue learned the true taste of her innermost 
being ... when he would suck and swallow her long hoarded juices ... when 
his cock would learn the width and depth of her asshole ... and when her ass 
would open like a blossoming flower to his invasive prick to hold it and 
embrace it for as long as he cared to knock at her back door! 

Evelyn had her second session with Dr. Rogers that morning. This time he had 
begun to explore the psychology of her nymphomania. He explained there would 
have to be many more such sessions. In the meantime however, he was 
prescribing drugs that would lessen her sexual appetite-or so he hoped. As 
he explained, there was never any certainty in these matters. What might 
work for one person could fail for another. 

She had filled the prescription at the druggist's and taken the pills as 
directed. But no results so far. Sitting in her lonely apartment she found 
herself wishing that a stranger would knock at the door-it didn't matter who 
or whether he was old or young, ugly or attractive-just so long as he had a 
stiff rod that she could lure into her itching vagina. 

Therefore when the phone rang and she heard the sound of Miles' voice, she 
was beside herself with happiness. She listened carefully as he explained 
that he had just earned some bonus money that day and would like to splurge 
a little. Would she care to take in an evening at a night club or 
discotheque? She discouraged him firmly. "If you've earned some bonus money, 
you should put it aside for your business," she informed him. "I have a much 
better idea. Why don't you come over and let me cook you some dinner? I 
think that would be much pleasanter than sitting in a smoky nightclub." 

Miles protested weakly, but soon gave in. He showed up at Evelyn's apartment 
about an hour later with a bottle of good red wine. They sat for a time over 
martinis, then Evelyn excused herself to put the finishing touches on her 
dinner. 

They had a quiet but enjoyable evening. At about eleven o'clock they decided 
to go out for a walk, window shopping along Madison Avenue. They walked for 
about half an hour then returned to Evelyn's place. She made some coffee, 
then Miles excused himself. Evelyn was thrilled to see that he was gradually 
becoming more passionate. When he kissed her goodnight he held her very 
close. She could feel his stiff dick warm and throbbing against her groin 
and as he dropped his hands from her shoulders he then accidentally-or 
really perhaps not so very accidentally-allowed his palms to glide along the 
sides of her tits, lingering there just a second or two. Yes, it really 
looked as if she were making progress. 

Miles too was happy with the way things were progressing. Each date with 
Evelyn was a new link in a chain that he believed was drawing them ever more 
tightly together. When he arrived home he undressed and showered 
immediately. As he slid between the sheets, he thought, Wow-am I ready for a 
solid snooze! This has been some day. ... He never really finished the 
thought because sleep claimed him with all the suddeness and force of a fast 
breaking wave. 

It was still dark when he awoke. He had been conscious for a long time of 
hanging in a kind of halfway world between waking and dreaming. He had a 
nightmarish dream that his bed was becoming shorter and shorter ... that he 
could not escape from it and would finally be squeezed to death. At last he 
started fully awake. For a few moments he felt only relief that his 
experience was only a dream. Then it dawned on him that something was 
definitely wrong. The bed did seem shorter! 

Miles leaped out of bed, switched on the light and stared at the bed. There 
was a kind of mound near the footboard. With a startled exclamation Miles 
flung the covers off the bed and stood tensed to meet any emergency! 

When Miles saw what had alarmed him so he relaxed with an explosive sigh of 
relief. And at the same time he could not help smiling. There, curled up in 
an incredibly tiny bundle at the foot of the bed was Gail! She was 
completely naked. Still sound asleep, she was snoring lightly. 

Miles shook her gently by the shoulder. "Gail!" he said. She did not stir. 
Miles shook her somewhat more vigorously and called her name louder. She 
continued to snore on. At last he poked a tiny tit and exclaimed, "Gail, 
wake up! It's me-Miles!" 

Gail opened one eye and stared up at him uncomprehending. Then she smiled 
shyly and said, "I wondered how long it would take you to realize I was 
here." 

Miles tried to sound severe as he asked, "How did you get in here, Gail?" 

She pouted scornfully. "That lock of yours wouldn't keep out a fly," she 
informed him. "All I needed was a little piece of celluloid." 

He sighed. "You'll have to go," he declared. 

This made Gail sit up in a hurry. "Why?" she asked miserably. "Why?" 

And try as he might, Miles honestly couldn't think of a reason why. "Okay," 
he said at last. "You can stay. I'm not going to get myself worked up by 
arguing with you. I need all the sleep I can get." 

Miles switched off the light again and crawled back in bed. Gail took his 
dick in her hand. He slapped it away gently. "If you're going to stay in bed 
with me," he declared, "you're going to have to be very, very quiet. I told 
you I needed my sleep." 

"All right," she said soberly. Miles drifted off again into deepest slumber. 
Sometime later-he had no way of knowing exactly when for it was still pitch 
black outside-he re-emerged slowly into lethargic consciousness. Something 
was happening beneath the sheet-something sweet, something luxurious, 
something deeply satisfying. He was dimly aware that a warm wet little mouth 
had fastened itself on his cock and that his entire dick was being massaged 
by a tiny tongue. There was nothing frenzied or wild about it-just the 
gentlest of sucking sensations. 

Miles lay still. In time he relapsed into slumber again, then re-awakened to 
feel a delightful oozing between his legs. His semen was being drawn from 
him in a long, delicious streaming that seemed to have no end. On and on it 
went. ... Gail must have taken the head of his cock halfway down her gullet 
because he could feel her throat muscles constricting on it. Then sleep 
overtook him again. 

He never heard an alarm. The next thing he knew the sun was streaming into 
the room and Gail was thrusting a plate of something delicious under his 
nose. "What-who-" he began. Then he remembered everything. He struggled to 
sit up. Gail plopped a tray with orange juice, fried bacon and scrambled 
eggs onto his lap. "I hope it's what you like," she said wistfully. 

Miles was ravenous and the food was very good. "I didn't know you could 
cook," he declared. 

"I can do a little bit of everything," Gail stated. Still naked as the day 
she was born she curled up in an easy chair. "You're not mad about me 
breaking in like this, are you?" she asked anxiously. 

He shook his head. "No," he mumbled with a full mouth, "I'm not mad and I'm 
not glad. Hey, did you have breakfast?" 

"Yeah, I had a bite before you got up." 

As he finished the last of the scrambled eggs, Miles asked, "Why did you do 
this, Gail? Why did you feel you had to break in like this?" 

She shrugged. "Because I'm a horny bitch. What else?" she said. "I wanted 
your cock between my legs and figured this was the best way to get it. And I 
don't deny I was looking for a chance to suck you off, too. After you 
screwed me the other night I got to thinking: Miles was so nice to me-he 
kissed my ass and licked my asshole and everything. I wonder what his dick 
tastes like? Now I know." 

"And how does it taste?" Miles asked mischievously. 

"Like vanilla syrup," she informed him shyly. "And it's so hot! I never 
dreamed a man's scum was so hot!" 

"Am I the first fellow you ever frenched?" Miles asked curiously. He really 
knew very little about Gail's background-where she came from, what she did 
for a living, or anything else. 

"You're the first fellow I ever actually sucked off all the way," she said. 
"Once when I was hitchhiking in from California a man picked me up in his 
car and tried to get fresh with me. I gave him a good fight and finally he 
decided it wasn't worth the effort. He said he'd stop bothering me if I 
would jerk him off. So I did. 

Then while I sat there with my hand covered with his scum he said he 
wouldn't start the car again till I'd licked all of it off my fingers. I 
argued with him for half an hour before I finally gave in. By that time it 
was cold and sticky and horrible. But yours is hot and delicious. I'd suck 
you off any time you let me, Miles." 

"Thanks!" he laughed. "I'll keep that in mind." 

"How about some coffee?" she asked, getting to her feet. 

"Great!" Gail poured him a steaming cup and placed sugar and cream on the 
tray. Then she said, "Well, I guess I'd better get dressed and go." 

Somewhat surprised, Miles murmured, "You don't have to go yet, Gail." The 
girl looked rather uncomfortable as she said, "Yes, I think I'd better. I 
have a job as an office temporary and they'll be mad if I show up too late." 
As she spoke she slipped a pair of sandles on her feet. Another moment and 
she had donned the dress she had flung aside so casually to the floor 
sometime during the night. Then she asked, "Can I use your bathroom? If I 
wait one second longer I'm going to piss all over your floor. And I know you 
wouldn't want that!" 

"It's just off the living room," he told her. 

It was not until she had actually left the bedroom that Miles began to feel 
uneasy. There was something strange here ... why should she feel this 
compulsion to leave? It wasn't like her at all. 

The more he thought about it, the more suspicious he became. Was it possible 
she had taken something and was bent on leaving before he discovered it? He 
leaped from his bed and checked his wallet. Everything seemed to be there. 
Funny.... 

Then his eye strayed to the top of his bureau. There, behind the leather box 
he used for his cufflinks and other personal knickknacks was a huge wad of 
bills. Fives and tens. A lot of them. 

Not quite believing his eyes, Miles did a fast count of the bills. There was 
about a hundred and eightly dollars there on top of the bureau. 

Miles heard Gail emerge from the bathroom. She called out, "G'bye, Miles! 
I'll be seeing you!" Then he heard her unlock the apartment door. 

"Aren't you going to kiss me goodbye?" he cried, trying to keep his concern 
from showing in his voice. A moment later she reappeared at the door to the 
bedroom. "Oh sure!" she laughed. Then she saw the wad of money in his hand 
and the laughter went out of her face. 

"What's this?" Miles asked, thrusting the fistful of cash under her nose. 
"You put this on my bureau, didn't you?" 

She opened her mouth. He knew she was going to lie. But when she saw the 
look in his eyes she said in a low voice, "Yes, I put it there." 

"Where did you get it? I know you don't earn this kind of money. I know you 
don't save. So where did you get it?" 

She looked down at his shoes and remained silent. "I said," he insisted, 
"where did you get it?" 

When she finally spoke her voice was as thin as the faraway chirping of a 
tiny bird. "I spread my legs for it," she said. 

"You spread-you mean you actually really prostituted yourself for it? Gail, 
how could you do a thing like that? Don't you know the danger you were 
exposing yourself to? Don't you remember what happened the last time you 
tried a stunt like that?" 

"I don't care. Nothing like that happened this time." 

"Why did you do it? And why did you try to leave the money here?" 

She shifted nervously and averted her eyes from his face as she replied, 
"You said you needed money. For your business. And you said the sooner you 
had it the quicker we could go off to Bermuda or someplace like that and 
have-well, like a honeymoon." 

Miles felt like crying. Extending the wad of money he said quite 
matter-of-factly, "I can't take this, Gail. I thank you for it but I 
couldn't accept this in a million years." 

Gail looked at the money. Then she looked up at Miles. Her face was a study 
of resentment and perplexity. "Why not?" she cried, her voice rising, "why 
the fuck not?" 

"Because I don't need it that badly. I'm sorry if there's been a 
misunderstanding-" 

"What the fuck do you mean, 'misunderstanding!'" Gail struck his hand away 
and the bills flew in a dozen different directions before settling on the 
carpet. "You motherfucker! I try to do you a favor and this is the thanks I 
get. Keep the money! Throw it down the toilet if you like! But don't expect 
me to come crawling to you any more. I've had it with you, Miles! Bastard! 
Motherfucker!" 

Her voice was trembling and her eyes were wet with tears as she shouted the 
final words. Then she turned and disappeared with amazing speed. Miles ran 
to the door and shouted, "Gail! Gail!" But she had bypassed the elevator. He 
heard the sharp angry rattle of her steps in the stairwell. Then silence. 

Miles sighed a deep despairing sigh as he turned back into his bedroom. 
Slowly he picked up the bills and stacked them neatly in a cashbox he kept 
hidden beneath some trash in the closet. He didn't know what he'd do with 
it. He certainly had no intention of keeping it. But some day ... somehow 
... he'd find a way of returning it to Gail. Poor kid, he thought. Poor, 
crazy little kid! He just imagined her going about the streets ... inviting 
men up to her room ... or going up to theirs ... stripping off her dress and 
flopping on the bed. Lying there while they ran their greasy sweating hands 
over her little body. The men hardly able to believe their good fortune in 
discovering a pretty, under-age teenager who would actually fuck for them. 
What a hell of a way to accumulate a few dollars! 

He sat on the edge of the bed for a long time just shaking his head in 
dismay. Then he pulled himself together, shaved, dressed, and went off to 
his job. 

 CHAPTER NINE 

KEN COMES AT LAST 

Evelyn set about making herself ready for the evening. She had a date with 
Miles so she bathed, powdered herself all over and dressed with unusual 
care. Evelyn could detect unmistakable signs of increasing ardor in 
Miles-perhaps tonight he would actually assert himself. Maybe Evelyn's dream 
would come true! 

Evelyn had prepared a little cold supper. They ate, then went to a French 
movie that had received rave reviews in the papers. As they sat in the 
darkened theatre, Evelyn held Miles' hand in hers, cradling it in her lap 
his fingertips downward just barely touching her thigh at the borderline of 
her sensitive vaginal area. It was maddening to have his hand so close to 
her wet yearning honey hole yet be unable to urge him further. 

Afterwards she invited him up for a drink. As they sat thigh against thigh 
on the sofa, Miles' arm quickly stole about her shoulder. She leaned her 
cheek against his and they exchanged a kiss. They kissed for a long time. 
Finally Miles' hand dropped to her knee. Gradually, by infinitesimal degrees 
it began to work its way under her dress. Now it was midway between knee and 
crotch. Now it was at her stocking top. Now on the bare flesh between 
stocking top and panty. Only very gradually, very lightly, did it finally 
come to rest on the moist little triangle of white nylon between her legs. 

Evelyn spread her legs wide and uttered a deep heart felt sigh. "Oh 
darling," Miles whispered in her ear, "you-you don't know how often I've 
wanted to do this. I've wanted to caress and kiss you over your entire body 
so many times! This may be premature, Evelyn, but I think I fell in love 
with you that first evening when that scoundrel insulted you in the bar and 
we went up to your place afterwards." 

Evelyn gripped the hand that still curved around her shoulder. She smiled to 
lend him encouragement. "The only thing is," he went on, "I'm wary of 
plunging into-well, physical intimacy! A hand on the knee leads to a hand on 
the thigh and then-you can see where I've got it now! And that of course 
leads right to sexual intercourse. I won't deny I'd like to have you right 
now, Evelyn. If you want me, that is. The only thing is, a person with my 
condition has to be careful-" 

A cold pang struck through Evelyn. She turned sharply and asked, "Condition? 
What condition?" 

Miles smiled apologetically. "I saw no reason to mention it before," he 
said, "but I have a slight heart condition. Not enough to keep me from being 
active but when it comes to sex I have to be careful not to overdo it. 
Evelyn...." he went on, embracing her closer, Evelyn stood up abruptly. 
Holding her voice in tight rein so as not to betray her emotion, she said, 
"I need another drink. How about you?" She went to the sideboard and kept 
her face carefully averted while she made another pair of Scotches on the 
rocks. When she rejoined Miles on the sofa she curled up in such a way as to 
discourage an embrace. 

Miles looked pained and embarrassed. "Evelyn," he said, "have I said 
something wrong? Have I done something I shouldn't have? If so, I'm sorry." 

She shook her head. "Oh, it isn't that you've done anything specific," she 
declared lightly. "I-I just began to be afraid we were going too far. Let's 
take it easy for a while, all right? After all, to talk of physical intimacy 
and love and all that after only a few dates is kind of-well, immature! 
Isn't it?" She quickly turned the conversation to other topics. 

They talked painfully about inconsequential matters for another half hour or 
so, then Miles stood up. "I think I'd better say goodnight now, Evelyn," he 
said. "There is something wrong, isn't there?" 

"Not at all!" she declared, trying to sound bouyant. "The only thing is, 
Miles, I've been going to a doctor myself. I too have a certain-condition. 
It's different from yours. I'd prefer not to talk about it." 

"I see. When will I see you again?" 

"That depends, Miles. Depends on how successful the doctor is in treating my 
condition." 

"Shall I phone you?" 

"Better let me phone you, Miles." They shook hands awkwardly and said 
goodnight. 

Miles was angry as he left the apartment house. Angry and puzzled. Damn! You 
never knew about women. You just never knew! Just when he thought he had 
found the ideal girl-wham! It blew up in his face. And why? Why? 

Miles was so angry he thought it might be a good idea to let off steam by 
walking home. He hadn't covered more than a few blocks however, before a 
thought hit him-Gail! He had tried to see her the previous night. Ever since 
that morning when she had stormed out of his apartment he had felt guilty 
and unhappy about her. He had wanted to see her and apologize and somehow ge 
on the right footing with the youngster. God-when a girl goes out on the 
street and sells her ass for you, you certainly owe her something. More than 
the money she turned over to you. A little matter of love besides. 

The previous evening Miles had gone around to the tenement in which Gail 
lived and rung her doorbell for half an hour. There had been no answer. That 
didn't mean a thing. Tonight Miles was determined to force matters. He took 
the first cab than came along and told him to head downtown. When the driver 
let him off at the shabby building on the edge of Chinatown Miles didn't 
bother to ring. He ran up the four flights of stairs and pushed open the 
door to Gail's room without knocking. 

She was there. She sat at a table clad only in flimsy panties. Her head 
rested on the table next to a nearly empty bottle of wine. She had obviously 
been sitting there for a very long time; it was also obvious that she had 
wet her pants several times over. 

She did not stir when Miles entered. He approached her fearfully-she could 
be dead. Anything could have happened to her, living alone like this in a 
dangerous neighborhood. He shook her by the shoulder. She opened her eyes 
and stared at him blearily. Her voice was hoarse with rotgut alcohol as she 
said thickly, "Miles-I knew you'd come." 

He lifted her in his arms and bore her to the bed. "Don't touch me, Miles," 
she protested softly. "I'm dirty. And I'm sick. And I'm crazy, besides." 
Miles lay down beside her on the bed fully clothed and held her tiny body in 
his arms the whole night long. 

Evelyn did not sleep at all that night. She walked up and down in her living 
room trying to make some sense of her life. I've killed one man, she 
reproached herself. I'm not going to kill another. Sure, it might not happen 
tomorrow. If Miles and I became intimate it might not even happen this year 
or the next. But eventually.... 

And those dreadful images of Dean's funeral, the black clad mourners, the 
heavy scent of the flowers-all swarmed back into her mind. No, that was not 
to happen again! 

Wasn't it bad luck that her treatments under Dr. Rogers' care had not 
progressed further! Why couldn't she have met Miles when her sexual cravings 
had diminished enough to be controllable? Why did she have to encounter him 
her very first night in New York? Had she done the right thing by expressing 
her dismay so openly? Why couldn't she have strung him along a little while 
longer until she at least knew how serious his heart ailment was? 

But she knew that would be asking for trouble. That very evening, with his 
fingertips pressing lightly on her pussy through the fabric of her panties 
she had very nearly been at the point of ripping off her underwear, wrapping 
her legs around Miles' hips and blurting, "Fuck me blind, Miles! Never mind 
about tomorrow. I want it now. I want it hard. I want it good. And I want it 
steady." 

No, no. ... God, life's decisions were hard! 

Evelyn suffered through two weeks of tantalizing indecision in this way. 
Three times a week she saw Dr. Rogers. She begged him to do anything in his 
power to expedite her treatments. Cost was beside the point. The main thing 
was to dampen this fire between her legs. 

At the end of the second week however, she knew she could not suffer on this 
way, suspended midway between heaven and hell. One evening, her mind boiling 
in a ferment of confused, conflicting desires and emotions, she dialed 
Miles' phone number. There was no answer. That was at eight o'clock. Every 
half hour thereafter until one in the morning she continued to phone him 
without result. 

Next day she decided to phone him at the salon. She hated to call him away 
from his work but she had to speak to him, she had to make everything all 
right without further delay. However, the girl at the switchboard said after 
a moment's pause, "I'm sorry, Madame, but Miles Edwards is no longer 
employed here." 

Astonished, Evelyn inquired, "Oh? Could you tell me where he's currently 
employed then?" 

"I'm afraid not," the girl replied. "He's left to open his own business, I 
understand. Miss Steele won't allow me to give out any more information than 
that. I'm very sorry." 

Evelyn felt decidedly uneasy as she hung up. Miles no longer at the salon 
... he might have phoned at least to tell her that much. But she'd 
specifically forbade him to call! Oh well, she'd reach him tonight at his 
apartment. He had to be home some time. 

But he wasn't. And this time she dialed continuously until two in the 
morning. 

Finally Evelyn slammed the phone down in a fit of exasperation. The 
inference was plain. Miles had shacked up with someone! He hadn't been home 
in two nights and she knew he didn't travel on business. He certainly hadn't 
lost any time finding a new girlfriend, had he? Well, he could just go to 
hell! She didn't care. 

But as she tossed in bed she realized that she did care. She cared very 
much. She tried phoning him every night for a week without success. At the 
end of that time she reluctantly gave up. These things happened in a city 
the size of New York, she told herself. It was very easy to form a chance 
acquaintance. And it was just as easy to fade into the woodwork, to be lost 
from sight in a single day, to be swallowed up, voluntarily or involuntarily 
without a single trace. Without an address, without a phone number, or an 
acquaintance to pass along a message. 

Evelyn's life revolved in pretty much the same pattern for the next six 
weeks. She visited Dr. Rogers three times a week. One day Dr. Rogers asked 
her, "Tell me, Mrs. Joslin-have you been getting any sex lately?" 

Evelyn looked at him startled. "Why no!" she replied. "I haven't had much 
opportunity, frankly. The fellow I was going with seems to have vanished 
into thin air and I just haven't had the heart to go looking for someone 
else. To be perfectly honest, doctor, I've been making rather free use of my 
vibrator. I find it gives me a certain release without the complications 
that follow from picking someone up in a bar or at a dance or resort." 

The physician shook his head. "To be perfectly truthful, I would advise a 
certain amount of honest to goodness sexual intercourse. You see, I've been 
able by the use of drugs to pretty much alleviate the physical causes of 
your nymphomania. But by starving yourself of sex, you are creating a 
psychological craving. It's like a person who has been denied his favorite 
food over a long period of time. He doesn't actually need the food-he craves 
it because he hasn't been getting it. It's the same way with you now. If you 
had sex two or three times a week you'd probably find it was enough for you 
and you wouldn't go on to demand it two or three times a day the way you 
used to." 

"I see," Evelyn said thoughtfully. "Then you feel your treatments have been 
largely successful." Dr. Rogers said he believed they had and she need only 
come once a week in the future. 

Evelyn went home and thought about this. She was inclined to agree with the 
doctor. If she were to have sex a couple of times a week it would be enough 
to take the edge off the keen physical craving she still felt. But with 
whom? Oh God, if she only hadn't let Miles escape her.... 

At that moment her doorbell rang. Who could that be? She put the door on the 
chain and cautiously opened it a crack. 

It was Ken! Her son, Ken! 

"For heaven's sake, why didn't you tell me you were coming?" she cried. She 
let him in. He appeared to have grown a fraction of an inch and to appear 
even more mature than when she had left him over two months before. 

Ken dropped his suitcase on the floor. He looked tired, dusty and 
bedraggled. "Why didn't you write or phone me you were coming?" 

Evelyn exclaimed. "I could have met you at the airport!" 

Ken glanced at her sardonically. "I didn't fly," he informed her. "I came by 
bus. I've been sitting on that bus for two days. My rear end feels like it's 
been worn down to the bone!" 

"The bus!" Evelyn cried unbelievingly. "You could have flown. I would have 
sent you the money." 

He shook his head. "I just wanted to get away from that old home town as 
fast as possible. That whole bit with Uncle Al and Aunt Judy developed into 
a bad scene-I mean a really bad scene! There was no time to send to you for 
money or anything. I had the money in my pocket for the bus fare and a 
couple of hamburgers on the way. That was enough. I split." 

"You must be starving," Evelyn declared. "Sit down, I'll fix you a nice meal 
and you can tell me all about it." 

As Ken ate, he gradually told his mother the entire story. 

 CHAPTER TEN 

FILLING EVERY HOLE 

"Well, when I first moved in to live with Uncle Al and Aunt Judy, I 
thought-this is the life! They didn't give me anything to do in the way of 
chores around the house, Uncle Al was just full of laughs, and Aunt Judy was 
always giving me money to go to the movies and making sweet desserts and 
special foods she knew I liked. They really made me feel at home!" 

"How did you get on with the two girls, Crystal and Jennifer?" his mother 
wanted to know. "The two daughters must be pretty well grown by now, aren't 
they?" 

Ken grimaced. "Crystal is pretty well grown-wow!" he exclaimed. "I guess she 
must be seventeen by now and if she ever gets any more stacked they'll have 
to pass a law against it! I mean she's got a pair of boobs that always look 
like they're on the point of tearing through the seams of whatever dress 
she's wearing. Not that she wears much in the way of clothes. Two 
handkerchiefs stitched together is more like it! 

"Ma, I'm not going to exaggerate. Crystal made a play for me right from the 
first day I arrived on the premises. The first evening we all had dinner 
together I was sitting next to Crystal at the table. She had her hand 
beneath the tablecloth all the time, feeling of my dick, pinching it through 
my pants, squeezing it so hard that finally I came right there in front of 
everybody. I tried not to show it so maybe they didn't notice. Then she sat 
there pinching the head of my cock, making all my sperm run out till my 
pants were just soaked! 

"Well, Ma, I have to admit I'm human and it was only a couple of days before 
she spread her legs for me and I dove right in. It was nice, I enjoyed it, I 
can't deny that. But after I'd had it a couple of times with her it lost 
most of its excitement. It's hard to describe-she's like some kind of sex 
machine and you don't feel there's a real person there." 

"Well, heavens, I don't know," Evelyn said uncomfortably. "I suppose if the 
girl wanted it as badly as you say she did, I shouldn't reprimand you. But 
you are a trifle young for that sort of thing, Ken. Do you mean to say 
you've been having intercourse with Crystal constantly since I sent you to 
live with Uncle Al?" 

"No," Ken declared, "after a while we kind of tapered off. I guess she could 
feel I wasn't as hot for her as she was for me and her feelings kind of got 
hurt. One day when I was minding my own business she walked into my room and 
said, 'You can kiss my ass, Ken Joslin. I'm not going to beg you for 
attention, you know! I've got lots of fellows who'd give everything they 
have to fuck me for ten minutes. From now on if you want your rocks hauled 
you can get Jeff ifer to do it!' Then she stormed out. 

"Why should she say a thing like that?" Evelyn asked curiously. "Why should 
she mention her sister in that connection?" 

Ken's expression clearly revealed his disgust. "That was to show how she 
looks down on Jennifer," he declared. "I guess you remember that Jeffifer 
has this paralyzed arm, don't you?" 

"Oh yes, the poor thing! I do recall it now." 

"Right. And she limps a little too-she's affected all along one side. Well, 
she's just the opposite of Crystal. You wouldn't believe that they could be 
sisters. Like I said, Crystal really looks down on Jennifer and so does the 
rest of the family. It was very obvious, I noticed it right from the start. 
They'd snatch the food right from under her nose at the dinner table. They 
never listened to her when she talked. They never bought her any new 
clothes-she always had to wear Crystal's hand me downs. 

"I've got to admit I was attracted to Jennifer right away, but I could never 
get her in a conversation. It was almost like she was scared. She slunk 
around like a whipped dog. And there was another funny thing too. She was 
never at home during the day. She always left with Uncle Al when he went out 
in the morning and came back with him at night. They said she was helping 
him in that tailor shop he has over on Morrow Street in the poor section of 
town. 

"I asked her a couple of times what she did to help her father. Did she keep 
records? Did she help with the deliveries? Did she put the clothes in the 
machines? I never got much of an answer. One morning when I was riding 
through that part of town on my bicycle I decided to surprise Uncle Al and 
drop in at the shop. I was a little curious to see what he had there. 

"Well, Ma, he didn't act at all happy about it. He seemed to want to shuffle 
me out of the place as fast as possible-said he was busy. Well, he didn't 
look that busy to me. When I asked where Jennifer was he stuttered awhile 
and finally said she was delivering some garments. The whole thing looked 
fishy to me, Ma, and I was glad to get out of there ... the atmosphere was 
so uncomfortable. 

"That night I went out for a while and when I returned I parked my bike in 
the garage and came in the back way. Nobody knew I was there, and 
brother!-did I get an earful! Uncle Al and Jennifer were upstairs and he was 
hitting her-I could hear her holler. I heard him curse and say, 'You lousy 
little cripple! I'll teach you to get sick on me right in the middle of the 
day when I need you most!' Then he hit her again and started making fun of 
the way she walks. She does have this pathetic way of dragging her leg-like 
I said, she seems to be affected all along one side of her body. 

"Well, my blood started to boil and I wanted to run upstairs and tear into 
Uncle Al-even if he is your sister's husband, he has no right to treat a 
little girl that way! But then the commotion stopped. So I slammed the 
screen door and made out like I had just come in and hadn't heard a thing. 

"The next morning I went out again and hung around the tailor shop ... about 
half a block up the street where Uncle Al couldn't see me. I had some idea 
that if Jennifer was making deliveries I could help her. I never saw her go 
in or out. 

"I made up my mind I was going to see what really went on in that 
shop-particularly in the back of the building where Uncle Al has a lot of 
space you can't see from the front of the store. I went around to the other 
side of the block; they're tearing buildings down behind the store. I'm sure 
Uncle Al doesn't realize you can get back there. 

"You see, there's a rear window in the back of his shop. And now that 
they're tearing those buildings down you can worm your way into a kind of 
courtyard and see what's happening inside. I went there and spent several 
hours looking. You could hear everything too because the window is part way 
open. 

"I saw Jennifer right away. She was sitting on the edge of a filthy dirty 
old bed and all she was wearing was a short dress that hardly came down to 
her ass. I no sooner started watching than I saw a door open and a guy came 
in from the front of the store. He was about fifty years old and well 
dressed. He said, 'Are you the young lady I have an appointment with?' And 
Jennifer said, 'You don't see anybody else back here, do you?' 

"Right then and there she stripped bare ass in front of the guy, Ma! He took 
off his pants and shorts but left the rest of his clothes on. When he saw 
Jennifer all naked he got this funny kind of glazed look in his eye-as if 
she was the answer to his fondest dreams! I'll admit she looked-well, 
sensual. In the first place, standing there all naked she looked even 
younger than she is-you'd think she was about twelve. Especially since she 
has these really tiny little titties and she's so thin! And she has this 
white smooth skin just like a child's. 

"I thought the old guy would sock it to her right away but he didn't. He 
made her sit on the bed and he started to feel up her arm-the one that's 
paralyzed, and her leg that's a little thinner than the other one. Jennifer 
let him do it for a while, then she said, 'It gives you pleasure to fuck a 
paralyzed girl, doesn't it? That's the reason you came here-because I'm 
deformed. Isn't that right?' 

"I thought the old guy would be insulted but he wasn't. He just looked her 
straight in the face and said, 'Yeah, that's right. That's how I get my 
kicks! Do you have any friends like yourself? Do you know any girls that 
have had an arm or a leg amputated? I'll pay good money to screw a girl like 
that. I'll pay you a commission if you can lead me to one." 

"But Jennifer only said, 'Come on, mister, did you come here for a feel or a 
fuck? I don't enjoy being treated like a piece of meat on a butcher's hook!' 
She flopped back on the bed and sort of patted her pussy and said, 'I'll let 
you put my paralyzed fingers in your mouth so you can chew and suck on them 
while you plow me. Some guys like that. If it'll make you come faster, I'll 
do it." 

"Well, Ma, you won't believe this, but the guy was so anxious to get at 
Jennifer when he heard her say that that he nearly broke a leg getting into 
bed with her! I won't go into a lot of details about what they did together 
because you know that as well as I do. But he sure gave her some pounding! 

"After he left a regular stream of guys came in that door. Old ones, young 
ones, white ones, black ones-you name it, every size, shape and description. 
Uncle Al's shop is located right near a couple of big factories and there 
are also a lot of little businesses in that area. Guys were coming in for a 
quick screw on their coffee break. Some came in on their lunch hour. 

"And not all of them wanted to be fucked, you can be sure of that. I heard 
one guy ask her, 'Is it true what Al says-if I give you an extra two dollars 
you'll swallow my scum when you french me?' She told him, yes. And she did 
too. He made her get down on her knees and suck him off. After he'd shot his 
load and let most of it drain out, he forced her to open her mouth so he 
could be sure she'd swallowed his come and wasn't going to spit it out 
later. 

"A lot of men were like that-they paid extra to have her swallow that glop. 
Not all of them were like that though. Some just wanted to get their rocks 
off and then beat it. Between noon and two o'clock she had so many customers 
she hardly had time to breathe-and practically all of them were blow jobs. I 
mean, by one o'clock she had scum dribbling from the side of her mouth; she 
had it smeared all over her face from guys that lost control at the last 
minute and came outside her mouth. It was dripping off the ends of her 
titties and her hands were all sticky with the stuff! 

"Like I said, she got all kinds that day. There were even a couple of queers 
that didn't have any intention of screwing. They just wanted to humiliate a 
girl-any girl. They made her he down on the floor and then they stood over 
her and jerked off onto her. They seemed to get the biggest charge in the 
world from watching their greasy yellow sperm run out the ends of their 
dicks and splashing onto her body and face. 

"But there were plenty who wanted it the regular way and they paid to be 
allowed to come twice. And there were several deformed guys that I guess 
felt more comfortable sticking it into a chick that was a little bit like 
themselves. But I noticed they treated her meaner than anybody else. 

"A little after two o'clock Uncle Al came into the back room where she was 
for the first time. He gave her a cheese sandwich in a paper bag and a 
container of coffee. She looked at her lunch and said, 'One thing's 
sure-I'll never get fat on that.' And he looked at her real surly like and 
said, 'You damn well better not get fat-guys won't pay to stick it into a 
fat girl.' Then she asked, 'Why is it always me that has to flop down in 
this smelly hole day after day? 

Why don't you send Crystal down here and let them fuck the shit out of her 
for a change?' 

"Well, when she said that, I thought Uncle Al was going to pop his cork for 
sure. He hit Jennifer right across the mouth and said real snarly like, 
'Don't you dare talk about your sister like that! Crystal will make a good 
marriage one of these days! She'll marry a fine business or professional 
man. I'm keeping her clean for that. But you-you ugly little cripple! I'll 
have you on my back for the rest of my days. Who'd ever want to marry you? 
That's why you've gotta earn a few bucks while you're still young enough to 
draw the customers!' 

"He went out then. Jennifer sat on the bed and cried. After a while another 
customer came in that wanted an around the world job and she had to take 
care of him. But about four o'clock the prize freak of them all walked in. 
You gotta picture the scene, Ma-here Jennifer's been lying on her back the 
whole day. Except for the blow jobs she's just been taking one cock into her 
pussy after another, hour after hour. By four o'clock so many guys have shot 
their loads into her she's lost count. And she's been so busy she hasn't had 
time to even wipe herself off! 

"Now all of a sudden this real creepy looking guy-thin and spidery and 
pimples all over his face-comes in and wants to suck her pussy. She looked 
at him like he'd lost his mind. 'Do you know what you're buying?' she asked 
him. 'I must have about a pint of scum stored in my snatch,' she tells him. 
'If you want a nice clean pussy to suck, come in tomorrow morning around 
nine o'clock. It'll taste nice and it'll smell nice." 

"But the guy shook his head real determined like and said, 'No, now's when I 
want it. I just want to suck and suck at your scummy little pussy. And the 
more juice you've got in there, the better I'll like it!' So she just 
shrugged and said, 'Help yourself!' She spread her legs and stood there 
while the guy put his lips to her hole and drained her absolutely dry. Did 
you ever hear anything so freaky in all your life? 

"Well Ma, I thought about what I'd seen all that night and part of the next 
day. And all of a sudden it dawned on me: little Jennifer is supporting that 
entire household! Uncle Al doesn't really work. That so called tailor shop 
of his is nothing but a blind. Aunt Judy just keeps house. Crystal doesn't 
do a thing to support herself. I suddenly realized-every bite of food we put 
in our mouths-the roof over our heads-the little presents Aunt Judy brought 
me now and then-all that came from poor crippled little Jennifer spreading 
her legs on a scum soaked cot in a stinking room behind the tailor shop. It 
was like every time she shook her ass a silver dollar rolled out! 

"I'm not perfect, Ma, but I've got to admit that was too much for me! I left 
them a note saying thanks for everything but I was heading east. I got the 
next bus out of town. And here I am." 

Evelyn had listened gravely to the entire recital. "You did the right thing, 
Ken," she said. "We've got to do some thinking and see if there isn't some 
way we can help Jennifer. But in the meantime I'm glad you're here. You can 
sleep on the sofa-it opens up into a bed. Let's unpack your stuff." 

Although Evelyn was overjoyed to have Ken back with her, in a way there was 
another aspect to his arrival that gave her distinct worries. If she were to 
go ahead with her plans to find a steady sexual partner she would be unable 
to bring the man home. She would have to keep her visits to Dr. Rogers a 
secret as well. She could imagine all kinds of complications. 

She was horrified to hear what use her sister's husband had been making of 
poor Jennifer. But at the same time she had to admit that the story 
definitely excited her. She could imagine herself in the youngster's place, 
receiving cock after cock into her pussy, into her mouth, up the rear ... 
caressing the men's dicks ... tonguing their assholes ... and receiving the 
same from them in return! 

 CHAPTER ELEVEN 

UP YOURS WITH A SEXPILL 

By nine o'clock that evening Evelyn was ready to climb the walls. She needed 
one of Dr. Rogers' sex-tranquillizing pills. As she started toward the 
bathroom it suddenly dawned on her-she had taken the last one that morning! 
That meant a trip to the druggist. It was annoying having to go out but 
there was no help for it. 

When she handed the bottle to the druggist and asked him to renew the 
prescription he shook his head sadly. "They're not making this stuff 
anymore, lady," he declared. "The company ran into some kind of trouble with 
the government and they stopped shipping. I'm sold out but if you feel you 
have to have it, I know a druggist down on Twenty-eighth Street that might 
have a few bottles. You'll have to hurry though, he closes in half an hour." 

Evelyn sped to the subway. She couldn't wait till tomorrow-she had to have 
those pills tonight or heaven alone knew what disaster she was liable to 
bring down on herself! And with Ken on the premises-this was no time to lose 
control. 

The train came along almost immediately. 

But shortly after it pulled out of Grand Central things started to go wrong. 
First the lights dimmed. The train stopped, started, ran a few yards, then 
stopped again. Then the lights went out. Everyone just sat there in the 
total blackness of the underground tunnel and waited. Usually these things 
were corrected in a minute or two. But that night the train just stood 
there, seemingly locked to the rails. 

Damn! Damn! Evelyn thought. I'll never get to that druggist before closing 
time! It was very hot down there in the tunnel because the fans had gone out 
along with the electric lights. And it was getting hotter. Evelyn's face was 
bathed in perspiration. Her armpits were streaming with sweat. Her thighs 
were so soaked with moisture that her dress literally clung to them as if it 
were painted on. 

To add to the discomfort she had to stand. The car was jam-packed with 
people. Apparently there had been trouble on the line for the entire 
previous hour and this was the first train to come along in a long time. The 
sweating bodies were packed in so closely that if one person had fainted he 
could not have fallen to the floor. 

It was only gradually that Evelyn became aware of the fact that the man 
directly behind her had an erection. Not that I can blame him, she thought, 
smiling to herself in the pitch blackness. The way we're all packed in here, 
hip to hip, crotch to crotch, ass to ass, it wouldn't surprise me one bit if 
at least one man didn't take out his dick and take advantage of his 
anonymity to excite himself against the nearest female. After all, who'd 
ever know unless the lights came on suddenly! And all this close contact 
does invite intimacy. A person would have to be made of stone not to respond 
at least a little to the situation. 

Speaking of stone ... God! What a hard cock that man had! Evelyn gulped and 
began to tremble. Did she dare? Heavens, this was ridiculous, to think of 
doing such a thing in a crowded subway! And yet ... oh, when she wiggled her 
ass it felt so good to have his stony hard cock there to rub it against. 
Even through the fabric of his pants and the thin cotton of her dress. 

Her dress ... why let that interfere? Slowly, so none of the passengers 
jammed in at her sides could guess what she was up to, she raised her dress 
above hip level and commenced to mash her sweaty bare buttocks directly into 
the man's groin. She could feel his cock twitch of its own accord inside his 
garments. Neither she nor the man had spoken a word yet each seemed to guess 
the other's thoughts. 

Having gone this far, Evelyn lost all sense of restraint. Working very 
carefully, very subtly, she reached in back of her with one hand and 
unzipped the man's fly. Whoever he was, he was obviously no tramp. As she 
groped about trying to find the zipper, Evelyn's hand came into prolonged 
contact with his trousers and his jacket-it seemed to be a sports jacket 
judging from the metal buttons on it. Both garments were of a fine fabric 
that felt expensive to touch. 

Having unzipped him, she tremblingly touched his cock-it flew out of his 
pants spontaneously and embedded its head in the rich moist crevice of 
Evelyn's ass crack! 

Oh God, it's like a gift from heaven, she murmured to herself. Straight out 
of the blue! Evelyn was very easy to penetrate from behind. Several years 
ago when her poor deceased husband had hinted his desire to bugger her on a 
regular basis, she had taken extraordinary steps to please him. She had cut 
six inches from the end of a broom handle and after lubricating it well had 
stuck it up her behind and left it there, day after day, for several weeks. 
She removed it only at night and at other necessary times. She had never 
told Dean about this. Eventually he began to comment on how easy it was to 
sodomize her "without using a sledge hammer to get in," as he phrased it. 
She had teased him, hinting that his dick was shrinking and that eventually 
he'd have to use a dildo to please her at all! 

Her asshole had remained permanently widened. Now she took advantage of the 
fact. There in the dark steamy box of the subway car with dozens of people 
around her, she fitted the stranger's anonymous cock tip into the dilated 
portal of her ass and wiggled his backside as an invitation for him to 
thrust it deeper. This he did. 

Slowly, slowly the stranger scooped his massive up-curving cock into the 
juicily oozing tunnel of her ass cavern. Up ... up ... then, when he had 
penetrated so far that she felt his balls tightly squashed against her 
buttocks, he began to make his prick perform a little jiggling dance inside 
her. There were no powerful thrusts, only this titillating vibration. It 
jarred her, tickled her, excited her. She bent her knees as much as she 
dared and thrust her ass more pertly in a saucy invitation for him to ream 
her with all the energy he could summon. 

But he only continued to make the head of his cock tremble and shiver far 
within the forbidden depths of her guts. And at the same time she could feel 
an orgasmic excitement starting to tingle. It was entirely unlike anything 
she had ever known with Dean. Dean's method had always been to slop plenty 
of lubricant over his dong, then to ream it in hard, smashing his cock up 
her ass with all the fury he could command, relying on brutal friction to 
awaken a perverse excitement within her bowels that quickly brought on an 
orgasm and left her exhausted but satisfied. 

The stranger's way was to coax her asshole into dropping its defenses little 
by little, to relax, to enjoy this mutual adventure with an intruding cock 
in the sublime secrecy of Evelyn's innermost flesh. 

She could feel him coming now! She could feel the spasmic contractions of 
the warm rigid rod. At the same moment, she allowed herself to climax. Dear 
God, she wanted to scream as the ramrodding cock flung its delicious burden 
of hot creamy juice halfway up to her tonsils and her asshole seized 
tenderly yet insistently on the bold rod as if reluctant to relinquish it 
ever. 

Evelyn moaned softly to herself as the man stood there, at rest now, his 
copious come slowly seeping down around his dick and gradually flooding 
down. 

At that moment a low thrumming sounded through the subway car. It was a sign 
that power was being restored and that the lights might go on at any moment. 
Hastily, Evelyn withdrew her juice-dripping ass from the rod that still 
impaled her and settled her clothing about her hips. Then, elbowing her way 
through the close pressed irritable throng, she made her way along the car. 
She would get out at the next stop since it was already too late for her to 
pick up the pills. And she did not want to be standing anywhere near the 
stranger when the lights came back on. 

The train moved forward with a jerk, stopped, then jerked forward again. At 
that moment the lights flickered on. It was less than a minute later when 
the train pulled into the Thirty-fourth Street station. As Evelyn moved to 
alight, she cast one fleeting glance behind her to see if she could discern 
who it was in the crowd that seemed to be wearing an expensive sports jacket 
with metal buttons. 

She saw him just as she stepped across the threshold onto the platform. It 
was a good looking young man, tall, with brown hair ... Good God in 
heaven-it was Miles! 

The man who had fucked her up the ass was Miles! 

The impatient crowd swept Evelyn along the platform, the doors slammed on 
the car and the train moved along. 

Evelyn found a secluded place to stand and think. Her knees were trembling. 
Everything had happened so fast she could hardly collect her wits! She had 
found Miles again ... they had enjoyed the most intimate contact two human 
beings can ever experience together ... and she had lost him again! 

As Evelyn made her way home, she did not know whether to relish those few 
minutes of ecstasy on the train or to allow her mind to dwell uselessly on 
the opportunity that had slipped through her fingers with such maddening 
ease. 

What a terrible lesson this had been! If only she hadn't allowed herself to 
yield quite so readily to lust. If only she had stood there quietly in the 
train like a normal, civilized human being. When the lights had come back on 
she would have blinked around as one customarily does at such moments. She 
would very likely have caught sight of Miles-or he would have caught sight 
of her. She could have invited him up for a drink. They could have started 
all over again. 

Or perhaps he had recognized her! Perhaps he had seen her some time before 
the lights went out and ignored her. Perhaps he had seized on the heaven 
sent opportunity to plow her up the can when she so hastily raised her 
skirts for him. Maybe he was still laughing at the whole thing while 
scorning her for a cheap, common, low down bitch! 

When she got home she remarked to Ken, "I'm going to bed right away. What a 
dreadful experience I just had! No ... no ... I don't want to talk about 
it!" She went directly into the bathroom and took a much needed shower. 
While she was still toweling herself Ken came to the door of the bathroom 
and said, "I wanted to tell you-you had a phone call not more than ten 
seconds after you went out before." 

"Who was it?" Evelyn asked as she ran the towel vigorously between her 
buttocks. 

"Some guy. I think his name is Miles somebody or other. I wrote it down. 
It's by the-" 

Evelyn flung the bathroom door open. "Miles?" she cried incredulously. 
"Miles phoned?" 

"Why ... yes!" Ken replied, turning a deep red. Except for that night a 
couple of months ago when he had caught her crouching before the television 
set, he had never seen her stark naked. The sight upset him. Her nakedness 
apparently troubled Evelyn not one little bit-she had other things on her 
mind! 

She raced to the phone. "Did he give you a number where he could be 
reached?" she queried him. "Why, yes-" Ken began. 

At that moment the phone rang. Evelyn snatched it up. "Why-why Miles!" she 
cried. "This is a surprise! Heavens, you've been quite a stranger lately. Of 
course I'd like to see you. Um ... no, I hadn't forgotten you, I assure you 
I hadn't. Where are you calling from? The comer booth? Certainly, come right 
up!" 

Evelyn's smile was radiant as she hung up. "I'm having company for a little 
while," she told Ken. "A very fine gentleman. I'm so glad you can meet him! 
The only thing is...." she went on hesitantly, " ... after you've chatted 
with him a few minutes, perhaps you could find an excuse to leave us alone 
for a while. Maybe you could say you're going out to get the early paper. 
I-I have a lot of things I want to discuss with Miles." 

"Okay, sure," Ken said. Evelyn remained sitting there on the sofa, her hand 
still on the phone, a smile on her lips as she meditated. "There's only one 
thing, Ma...." Ken said uncertainly. 

"What's that, dear?" she asked, looking up. 

"Aren't you going to get dressed?" he asked. Evelyn looked down at herself 
in shocked horror. "Oh dear, yes!" she cried, a deep blush spreading over 
her face and breasts. "Excuse me-I don't know how I could have been so 
careless!" She rose hastily and went into the bedroom. She finished attiring 
herself just as the doorbell rang. 

Evelyn welcomed Miles with a firm handshake and a glowing smile. She 
introduced Ken. True to his promise, the boy left after a couple of minutes. 
When they were alone, Miles told the full story of what had occurred since 
the last time he and Evelyn had spoken. And quite a story it was! 

 CHAPTER TWELVE 

BACK IN THE SADDLE AGAIN 

First of all he informed Evelyn that he had left Miss Steele to go into 
business for himself-that much she already knew. Then with some 
embarrassment he reminded Evelyn of the subject that had parted them on that 
unlucky evening weeks before-his heart condition. 

"Well dear, I wanted to tell you that's one thing that needn't cause us any 
worry in the future," he declared eagerly. "That's all been taken care of!" 

"Taken care of! How?" 

Miles related how, only a few days after their last meeting, he had felt 
faint and had gone immediately to the doctor. He thought the strain of 
setting up his new salon was telling on him. After making a thorough 
examination, the physician had informed him that unless the large artery 
leading to his heart was operated on immediately, he stood a good chance of 
seriously impairing his heart permanently. And he had made arrangements for 
Miles to enter the hospital right on the spot! 

"It really wasn't all that big a deal," Miles declared with a negligent 
smile. "It's really quite a simple operation. They just cut out the bad 
artery-mine was under-sized, not diseased-and stuck in a hunk of plastic 
tubing. The only thing is, it leaves you weak for some time afterwards." 

Evelyn was, of course, overjoyed at the way things were turning out. She was 
a bit nonplussed though when Miles asked her, "You mentioned having some 
kind of condition yourself, dear. How is that coming along? Is it still 
dangerous?" 

She had never, of course, informed him as to the exact nature of her 
"condition!" She took his hand and smiled as she replied, "It's still 
dangerous, Miles. But not serious!" And she refused to explain just what she 
meant by that. 

She and Miles met again the following evening. And the evening after that. 
At the end of the week he had proposed and she had accepted. 

Evelyn and Miles decided that under the circumstances, a modest wedding and 
a short, three day honeymoon at a not too expensive resort would be 
advisable. They were married in a quiet ceremony in a nondenominational 
chapel and enplaned immediately afterwards for Nassau. Arriving just as dusk 
was falling, they freshened up, had a champagne dinner in the hotel dining 
room, then retired immediately afterwards to their room. 

Once in bed they spent a long time just kissing, fondling and nuzzling one 
another in the traditional fashion of honeymoon couples. Eventually Evelyn 
could sense Miles' impatience. She could feel his throbbing joystick 
lurching implacably toward the promised land of her hot drooling pussy. 

At this point she decided to have a little fun with him. "Oh dear!" she 
exclaimed suddenly. "I-I'm afraid I'm going to have to disappoint you 
tonight, Miles!" 

"Why? What's the matter?" he asked, leaning over her concernedly. 

"Oh, it's my period," she declared with a show of exasperation. "The 
excitement of the wedding and all has brought my period on early. So I'm 
afraid we won't be able to have sex tonight. Do you mind awfully, dearest?" 

"Oh no, of course not, dear," he said quickly. But the disappointment was 
very evident in his voice. 

Evelyn patted his cheek, then said, "Oh dear, I'm exhausted. I believe I'll 
just doze off for a while...." During their preliminary lovemaking, Evelyn's 
nightdress had crept high above her hips. In the warmth of the Caribbean 
night the covering sheet had long since been flung over the foot of the bed. 
Now, as Evelyn pretended to seek slumber, she artfully turned her back on 
Miles. In the moonlight, her great, uncovered ass globes gleamed like 
beacons-summoning, beckoning, challenging! Her asshole dilated like a great, 
pinkish brown blossom. 

She waited, hardly daring to breathe. Would he seize the opportunity? Would 
he take the bait? Would he show himself as bold and enterprising as she 
hoped? She contracted her hole, then made it blossom again. 

Evelyn could sense Miles' body rigid in the bed alongside hers. For several 
minutes he seemed to hover behind her undecided as to his next move. Then, 
slowly, she felt him take her tits lightly in his hands while the soft, firm 
head of his cock nudged her buttocks. Then his dick began to slide ever so 
gently within the hot, juicy tunnel where there was never a period, never a 
wrong time of the month. 


THE END
