The Seductress
by Millie Van Winkler 


FOREWORD 

In the glittering world of show business, the traditional good-luck 
salutation to a performer going on stage with a new act, or in a new 
theater, has been, "Break a leg!" 

The origin of this is obscure, but it is a fact that since the Bard of Avon 
set Banquo's ghost to rattling his chains, there have been many more broken 
hearts than broken legs. It is as hard and demanding a life as any which can 
be imagined. Of the thousands who struggle each year for a break, those who 
make it can be counted on the fingers of a hand. And those who do succeed 
are scarred for life, torn up emotionally. One need not be a psychiatrist to 
read the significance of the stories relating to show business people which 
appear daily in the public prints-the newspapers, periodicals and fan 
magazines. 

Stars who can command a million dollars for a movie-or a hundred thousand 
for a twenty-minute appearance on television-are revealed as homosexuals, or 
lesbians openly flaunting their unnatural relationships. Heterosexual 
couples, each partner perhaps legally married to someone else, live together 
and have children. This is now accepted. 

Accepted or not, these tumultuous relationships inevitably have a strong 
effect on the individuals involved. 

In this novel, The Seductress, author Millie van Winkler tells the story of 
a mature but beautiful and compassionate folk singer, Bebe Randolph, whose 
heart goes out to a young Chicano boy half her age. It is Bebe who-in the 
beginning-is the seductress. Yet, despite her years in the cutthroat 
recording industry, Bebe is still innocent, far more so than the boy, Fargo 
Gonzales. 

He has the tougliness and shrewdness needed to survive in the 
Mexican-American ghetto of East Los Angeles, and he quickly realizes that 
through deft manipulation of the naive blonde singer he can rise to 
undreamed-of heights. 

Gentle trusting Bebe is first made a love slave and then cruelly exploited 
by Fargo and his friends, including the bewitching bisexual teenager, Maria. 

But life provides its avenging angels, some of them with tarnished wings. In 
this story, it is Sergeant Dalt Edwards, (later Lieutenant) a rough, 
no-nonsense motorcycle cop with his own carnal desires, who takes an 
interest in what is being done to the trusting honey-haired singer. 

He moves, but by then it is too late to save Bebe from the depraved lust of 
the Chicano gang and she, like so many of those who seek the glitter and 
glamor, is forever changed ... never again capable of looking back without 
seeing the fires of hell-and, like a beautiful moth, being drawn to them 
again and again. 

-The Publishers 

 CHAPTER ONE 

The sound was throbbing through her head, pounding and stabbing like cannon 
shot and arrows, as the cat-sleek girl with the flowing mane of pale blonde 
hair writhed and twisted and thrust her sweating loins in time to the 
all-consuming beat. She was nearly naked wearing only the briefest and 
sheerest of bikini panties, with small soft curls of golden pussy hair 
showing at the tight elastic fringes, and high-heeled boots of gleaming 
leather. Her proudly upthrust breasts jiggled and bounced with the 
thrashings of her lean-muscled body, the pink nipples distended in 
excitement. Her sensuous mouth gleamed wetly as it opened wide and the rich 
notes poured from her throat into the microphone. Through the earphones she 
heard the combo building, drawing it all from her, draining her straining 
young body in something akin to a sensual ecstasy. 

And then there was suddenly silence, until the voice of the recording 
director said excitedly through the phones, "Bebe, BEAUTIFUL! Put your 
clothes back on and come out and kiss the boys in the band!" 

"Thanks, Charlie," the voluptuous blonde said, exhausted now that another 
taping had been wrapped up. She waved weakly through the glass window of the 
booth and fumbled for her robe. "I could use a glass of iced tea." 

And I can also use a cold shower, Bebe Randolph thought, sniffing the air in 
the tiny booth. She could smell the rich, ripe woman-scent of her own 
perspiration and feel the moisture coating her smooth, tapering ivory-hued 
thighs and trickling down the valley between her breasts. She pulled off the 
Mickey-Mouse earphones that tuned her into the band and looked through the 
window of the booth. The musicians were wiping their brows and hands too, 
looking just as wrung-out as she felt. Seven hours of straight taping for a 
new record was bound to take a lot out of anybody. She could see them, but 
they could not see her near-nakedness because it was one-way glass. The 
recording equipment was sensitive enough to pick up a mouse sneezing at a 
hundred feet, so there could be no air conditioning in the booth. 

And as a performer, one of the rising recording stars, Bebe found she could 
put more of herself into a number if unencumbered by clothing. Although she 
was now twenty-nine, she had never become entirely adjusted to the way her 
teenage fans ogled her sensual body. It made her uncomfortable, just as did 
the four-letter words everybody else seemed to use so casually did. 

"Sometimes I wonder if they're listening, or just looking," she once mused 
to the agency man assigned to her. 

"Honey, it's like the old sign at railroad crossings-'Stop, Look, and 
Listen', Matt Matthers told her. "They look, and they listen and they stop 
at the goddamn record racks and buy, and that's what it's all about." 

"I suppose so," she had conceded, but wishing it didn't have to be that way. 
She felt like a piece of meat on a rack. 

Now, dripping wet from her session in the box, with her thin robe belted 
around her tiny waist, the sleek blonde entered the studio where the 
musicians were packing up their instruments. They caressed her exhausted 
body and exchanged the meaningless showbiz kisses and she forced herself to 
endure it all. She knew they meant nothing, but the close contact with male 
flesh, and the scent of manhood filling her flaring nostrils, excited her 
and she had to break away. 

"Guys, I've had it," she said, feeling the flush of sexual arousal begin to 
sweep upward through her quaking belly. "Must have some tea-my throat is on 
fire." 

Fargo Gonzales was immediately at her elbow with a thermos of iced tea. He 
poured a glass and she gratefully drank it, thanking the youth with her deep 
violet eyes and seeing the shy worship in his own Latin eyes. Fargo was 
barely fifteen, a pleasant, self-effacing Chicano boy, tall for his age and 
unmistakably handsome. He had appeared one day from the ghetto of East Los 
Angeles and attached himself to the group. He did the unpleasant but 
necessary tasks, such as carrying the heavy electronic equipment, keeping 
track of the scores, bringing coffee, and he never complained if they forgot 
to pay him. He was happy just to be on the glamorous fringes of show 
business. He had a guitar which he was learning to play, and his greatest 
hope was to be a performer himself one day. 

"Thank you, Fargo," the exhausted blonde star said gratefully, favoring him 
with a smile which showed fine white teeth set in an unbelievably soft oval 
of sensuous lips. The tea was soothing to her strained throat. Bebe Randolph 
rarely drank anything but tea or coffee or milk or lemonade, and smoked a 
cigarette only when under stress. She knew that virtually all the musicians 
she worked with at least smoked marijuana, and many dropped acid or took 
pills or even heroin or the other hard narcotics, but Bebe had never felt 
the need. 

They called her square and she shrugged it off, setting her own standards 
and sticking to them. In ten years struggling up the thorny ladder of show 
business, she had seen too many people with talent fuck up their heads with 
dope and alcohol. 

It was the same with men. She liked men, liked the way they could make her 
lushly ripened body feel, arouse every nerve end, fill the aching opening in 
her cuntal slit with their iron-hard manhood ramming up into the tender 
woman-flesh up between her legs. Yet she had surrendered to few, and each 
time afterward she had felt empty, with their thick cum seeping from her 
distended pussy. She had felt used, when what she wanted to feel was that 
her partner had loved her ... if only for a few minutes. Never had she 
experienced orgasm, and yet she knew she was not frigid. She wanted to make 
love! She enjoyed it, yet knew there was so much she was missing. Her desire 
always rose and throbbed like wildfire through her straining young body, and 
her legs wrapped tightly around the naked heaving buttocks of her lover 
while her distended nipples ached from contact with his hairy chest as he 
panted and thrust his hot pulsating hardness deep up inside her rejoicing 
cuntal passage, and it always seemed she was on the brink, but never reached 
it. 

"I've got to shower," she said, grinning, making herself look ten years 
younger. "I think I smell like a goat." 

"Goat meat is delicious eating," somebody said, and everybody was laughing 
lewdly, salaciously, not knowing how it hurt. They liked to needle her, make 
the blood blush into her cheeks and see the discomfiture in her near-violet 
eyes. She knew it wasn't done viciously, that they were really just kidding, 
letting off steam after a very hard day's work, but still it made her very 
uncomfortable, something which she tried unsuccessfully not to show. She 
fell back on her only line of defense, a false banter with them. 

"I'll buy you guys a box of lollipops to suck on," Bebe said as she strode 
from the recording studio, her long, slender legs scissoring. She let her 
hips roll a bit more than usual, so the smooth white spheres of her buttocks 
twitched and jiggled. She wanted to get to the shower quickly and cool down, 
both physically and emotionally. What she really wanted was a long tub bath, 
but there wouldn't be time. Another hour and she'd be caught in the heavy 
homebound traffic heading north from the recording studio in Hollywood, and 
that was sheer murder! 

Without bothering to snap the lock behind her Bebe breezed into the rooms 
which the record company provided for its stars. The layout amounted to a 
small studio apartment. There was a convertible couch, faced by a pair of 
Danish-modern chairs. In one corner was an apartment-size refrigerator, and 
atop it a three-burner electric stove. To one side was a mini-bar, for which 
she had no use, except that it held various soft drinks and fruit juices. 
Off this room was a bathroom-dressing room, almost as large, and it was in 
that which she was interested at the moment. 

With smooth movements of her agile body, the blonde singer peeled off the 
scanty robe and then bent to slide the wispy bikini panties down the smooth, 
beautifully-formed columns of her legs, stepping gracefully out of her 
remaining garment. She bound her hair up and covered it with a shower cap, 
then started the spray, finding a comfortable lukewarm temperature to begin. 
She wet a thick cake of scented soap and began to rub it sensuously over the 
smooth curves of her body. The aroma of it filled her nostrils, making them 
flare. The cake of soap, with a thick piece of rope tied through its center, 
had been left behind by one of the male recording stars, and the man-scent 
of it excited her. She stepped into the stream of water, sighing in 
relaxation. 

Bebe began to lather her smooth-fleshed body languidly, realizing the taping 
had been a good one, and maybe been good enough to get her a golden 
record-sell a million. That would be nice. Her last one had come close, and 
might yet make it. she began to sing softly, for herself now, as she cupped 
the firm, full roundness of her breasts and her slender fingers played with 
the arousing nipples. It always took her a long time to come down from a 
recording session. She put so much of herself into every one that she just 
couldn't snap it off like a light is shut off. 

I won't-I won't! she vowed to herself as her hand guided the soap high up 
the sensitive flesh of her inner thighs and her fingers stroked the fleshy 
outer lips of her hotly aroused pussy. I won't play with myself again! 

Yet Bebe Randolph knew she would-she couldn't help herself no matter how she 
tried. It had been so long since she'd had a man. Months. 

Spreading her magnificently-curved legs slightly, the limber blonde singer 
thrust her pelvis forward and rubbed the slick sudsy soap over the 
palpitating flanges of her excited cuntal slit. The outstretched middle 
finger of her hand separated her soft, fleshy vaginal lips and slid inside 
to the more sensitive coral-hued inner flesh. 

"Aaaaaahhhhh...," she moaned softly, her loins jerking lewdly forward at the 
slick contact. The hemp rope strung through the soap touched the rising, 
hardening bud of her clitoris and sent tingles of electricity arcing through 
her entire body. Slowly, she began to draw the rope up and down her soft 
cuntal furrow, her naked young body undulating, breasts swaying, nipples 
hardening and becoming long in response to the sensual friction. She could 
feel her sensually quivering body respond, the blood filling the fleshy 
mouth of her yearning cunt. With a groan, she suddenly yielded, thrusting 
her long middle finger hard up into the steaming depths of her hotly 
throbbing pussy, and the palm of her hand slapped the thin rope painfully 
hard against the button of her erect little clitoris. She began to finger 
herself with a frenzy, her hand smacking her tender flesh as her middle 
finger drove urgently as far as it could go up into her clasping pussy 
sheath, the nail scraping the ultra-tender cuntal canal. Deep in her 
wantonly writhing loins, she could feel the heat beginning, surging like the 
sea in a storm, and it felt like her entire body was going to explode. Her 
lust-twisted mouth opened a lewd grimace of passion, and her naked hips 
jerked wildly against the ecstatic probing of her finger as her entire frame 
shuddered and shook and trembled. "God! God! God!" Bebe Randolph cried out 
in frenzy as she bathed with guilt and desire. Then guilt was over! "No ... 
No ... NOOOOOO!!!!" 

The blonde recording star managed to pull her hand away, leaving an aching 
void up between her trembling thighs. 

Bebe stumbled from the shower, groping blindly for one of several thick, 
fluffy towels hanging on a rack. She rubbed and patted her yearning body 
dry, her legs quaking, her hands shaking as though she had been ill for a 
long, long time. She looked down and gasped at the length of her nipples. 
They were almost an inch long, sticking out from the full, heavy mounds of 
her upthrust, wide-spaced breasts and so tender she could barely touch them 
with even the feather-soft towel! She had never been this way before! No 
matter how urgent the desire in her unfulfilled body had been, even with a 
man pressing her down on a bed, forcing her reluctant legs apart-times when 
she had wanted and needed sexual contact-she had never seen her body in such 
a shameless condition of need. 

Up between her long trembling legs, the obscene fire still raged unquenched. 
She could feel the fluids from her feminine glands spreading through her 
loins, and she thought that this was one time when she really needed a 
drink-if only to take her mind off her real need, a long thick penis 
splitting her hot yearning cunt, fucking wildly up into the churning depths 
of her belly. 

Bebe thought: I've been too up-tight. Sex is good and natural, and God knows 
I enjoy it what little I've had ... if I could only take it just as it 
comes, and not want to be loved too, I'd be a lot better off! She thought of 
all the other girls she knew in showbiz. None of them seemed to be hung up 
the way she was. If they dug a stud, they went with him and did all kinds of 
wild, wonderful things. At first, and this had been really years ago, she 
had been stunned and shocked and revolted when she'd heard other girls talk 
casually about "giving head" and "getting eaten", and she'd actually had to 
ask what the terms meant. She had blushed furiously, and was incredulous, 
when they laughingly told her, like a child, that they meant taking a man's 
penis into your mouth, or having him crawl eagerly down between your 
wide-splayed legs and feeling his hotly quivering tongue slide deep up into 
your pussy. She had thought they were putting her on, but in time found out 
these things-and many things even more outrageous, like getting spanked with 
a ping-pong paddle or even lashed with a whip, were absolutely true! 

There was no way, Bebe Randolph vowed, that anything so perverse would ever 
happen to her! She would die before she would allow herself to become such 
an animal! 

It was just unnatural! Obscene and vile! While she was not as strait-laced 
as her Southern Baptist parents-nobody could be and function in any part of 
show business-she did have certain standards from which she would not 
deviate. Indeed, she had been to bed with fewer than a dozen men in her 
life, which for a healthy, naturally-sensual young woman of twenty-nine was 
almost being a virgin-these things were just so revolting as to be 
unthinkable. She had never felt comfortable again around the girls who so 
casually dispensed their sexual favors. Yet, not wanting to appear a snob 
and a prude, she had made a sincere effort to be nice to them, particularly 
as her own career was progressing faster than theirs, and she was truly a 
compassionate person. She even prayed occasionally that they would see the 
hell-pit they were inevitably headed for and change their ways before they 
were damned eternally. Not take up choir-singing, but become decent, 
healthy, clean people. 

Now Bebe Randolph wrapped herself in a fresh towel, tossing the damp one 
into a hamper, and stepped into the sitting room of the dressing facility. 

Skye Brent was there waiting on the sofa, a drink in hand, a cigarette 
dangling from his sensuous mouth. He played Fender bass and did most of the 
arranging of her numbers, and he was good at these things. A young man, in 
his early twenties, with pale blond hair that hung just below the collar of 
his turtleneck shirt, he had a sardonic expression. Nothing ever seemed to 
bother Skye. He had all the women he could use, made too much money, and was 
too handsome. He was tall, over six feet, lean but muscular, and supremely 
confident of himself. His facial features were rugged without being 
pretty-boy handsome, and he had been in some movies and TV segments. He 
seemed to radiate masculinity. 

"What are you doing here?" Bebe Randolph gasped, pulling the 
barely-concealing towel closer around the enticing curves of her body, as 
she halted in the doorway. She was not angered at Skye's presence-members of 
the group came and went casually-but seeing him so suddenly took her by 
surprise. Particularly as she was so physically and sensually aroused 
herself. Skye brushed his long hair back. Despite the arduous recording 
session he appeared fresh. "I thought I locked the door," she added, lamely. 

Skye blew a cloud of smoke, enjoying her evident surprise, and lewdly taking 
in the ripe beauty of her body. Along with the wet towel, Bebe had taken off 
her shower cap and now her long, pale hair tumbled wildly over her 
shoulders. He could see the full roundness of her breasts, the thrusting 
nipples barely concealed by the towel, as she stared at him. 

"You didn't, Bebe," he said casually. "But what matters? We're old friends." 

"Not that old," she said, a sting of tartness in her voice. His tone had 
suggested he'd slept with her-or could any time he wanted to. He hadn't, but 
she wasn't sure he couldn't, and she had to put him down. She would not give 
him the satisfaction of trying to cover herself more adequately with the 
towel, let him know that the sudden sight of him had shocked her sexually. 
Clutching the towel, she strode to the mini-fridge and got a bottle of Coke, 
opened it and drank, her full sensuous lips ovaling softly around the neck. 
Then she sat in one of the chairs, conscious of her almost-naked condition, 
and carefully crossed her legs to conceal the narrow blonde-curled slit of 
her pussy, yet aware that the position hiked the towel up so he could 
clearly see the smooth white roundness of her ass-cheeks. Well, let him 
look! Against her will, her own huge eyes were drawn to the tight-fitting 
crotch of his flare jeans. He was hard! His erected cock was out-lined 
unmistakably against the thin fabric ... long and thick. She imagined she 
could see the darkening dampness of pre-seminal fluid seeping through the 
cloth! Combined with the burning in her own cuntal vee, it was almost too 
much to look at! She tried, with only partial success, pulling her eyes 
away. They kept returning to the thick bulge of his genitals, and she could 
feel the hot surge of blood into her face as she shamefully tried to avert 
her gaze. She swigged hurriedly on the soft drink and said, "What's up, 
Skye?" 

"Thought we might rap about the setup at Monterey," he said casually. Bebe 
was booked for the famous Monterey Jazz Festival, which had long ago left 
jazz behind, and which was coming up in less than three months. "It can be a 
bummer. Open-air, and the fog comes in, and nobody's in tune, and it could 
fuck you up. Twenty thousand idiots under the oaks, most of them stoned. A 
ham-bone emcee! That's what I came to talk about." 

"We knew what it was when we took the booking," Bebe said nervously. "Every 
other group will have the same problem." 

"Yeah...." he agreed, grinning lewdly. "I figured. It can't hurt you. You'll 
be straight-arrow, and the rest will be bombed out of their birds. That's 
what I came to rap about ... but I got a better idea now." 

"What?" the lovely blonde singer said in a soft, nervous voice. She didn't 
like the look in his pale blue eyes, or the way he crushed out the stub of 
his cigarette on the floor. "What idea?" 

"Let's fuck." 

"Skye!" 

She tried to spring from the chair, but it was too deep and soft and she had 
to untangle the long, slender legs she had crossed under her, so she almost 
fell as she struggled up-and he was there, cat-quick, to catch her, pulling 
her writhing young body against him, stripping the towel away so her 
suddenly-bared breasts were rubbing roughly against the fabric of his 
turtleneck shirt. 

"Jesus, what a pair," he whispered as his strong arms held her prisoner. 
"Man could go crazy just fucking between them!" 

"Damn you, Skye!" the struggling girl cried out as he pulled her across the 
room to the wide, long sofa and pressed her down on it. "Are you crazy!" 

"Crazy to fuck you," he said, his hands beginning to slide over the 
still-damp rich contours of her straining body. He held her down and her 
head tossed, spraying golden hair over the dark fabric of the upholstery as 
she tried to avoid his seeking mouth. Then his lips were on hers, his tongue 
going deep into her mouth like a hot, wet spear, probing, seeking, teasing 
and finding her own tongue, leading it reluctantly but inevitably between 
his own lips. His hands crushed the soft resilient mounds of her breasts. 
She felt her hardening, elongating nipples being squeezed between his 
fingers that were so strong and dexterous from years of picking and 
fingering guitars, and she moaned in futile pleading for him to stop. And 
his voice was laughingly confident in her ear as he panted, "And I know you 
want it-I watched you in the shower. You were playing with yourself until 
hell wouldn't have it, baby ... you like this ... you want me to squeeze 
your tits and grab your beautiful ass and then stick my prick way up your 
hot little pussy ... and don't gimme any bullshit! I know a cunt that's hot 
to fuck when I see one ... or smell one! And you sure smell like you want 
way-out fucking!" 

"My God ... Nooooooo!" she moaned against his wetly searching mouth, and 
even as she did so, Bebe Randolph felt her love-starved body yielding. She 
absolutely wanted his hands on her, his lips brutally crushing hers, his 
tongue delving deep into her mouth. 

Beneath his overwhelming weight, the captured singer bucked and strained, 
telling herself she was trying to escape. But every motion of her tensing 
body only brought her cock-hungry cunt into closer contact with the thick 
rod of iron-hard flesh separated from her wide-splayed loins only by the 
thin cloth of his trousers. She could feel the urgent pulsing heat of it, 
and the heavy mass of his scrotal sac pressing up against the dampening 
flanges of her pussy-lips ... and she knew that she would willingly yield to 
this rape. 

She would even beg for it! He had come at her at just the right time, when 
she was aroused and frustrated and not in control of her own sensually 
aroused body. Yet she continued to fight the onslaught of his male flesh, 
clawing at him, but ineffectually even as he jerked her legs wide apart and 
bent them high up on her body, so her knees were crushed cruelly down on the 
points of her quivering breasts until she almost cried out with the pain. 
Above her, his face leered, lips stretched back over his strong white teeth. 
She felt his fingers diving, probing into her defenseless little cunt, 
opening the quickly-moistening lips, ramming ruthlessly up inside her warm 
moist passage, whirling like the agitators of an eggbeater until all she 
could do was undulate her loins in a futile attempt to ease the attack. And 
all the while, his young, virile body was rocking back and forth, crushing 
down on hers, the hard, sharp edges of his wide belt-buckle scraping the 
tender flesh of the soft mound of her trembling belly. She could feel the 
thick shaft of his manhood pressing into her yielding flesh, his fingers 
sliding deep into her wetly responding pussy and then playing up and down 
the widespread cheeks of her ass just as they played on his own guitar! 

"No ... no ... NOOOOOOOO, Skye!" the aroused blonde singer moaned. But even 
as she pleaded, she realized her body was betraying her. She was screwing 
her hot eager little pussy up at him urgently, and her legs scissored before 
clamping tightly around his hips as she yielded and her arms went around his 
back, nails scraping his hard muscles through his sweat-soaked shirt. 
Avidly, her soft lips parted and she sucked his tongue deep into her mouth, 
her own small perfect teeth nibbling hungrily at it. Her entire naked body 
jerked in undeniable hunger up against him, but still she managed to moan, 
"Noooooooooo...." 

"Bebe, you want it ... you gotta have it!" he breathed heavily in her ear. 
"Tell me!" 

She panted, still undulating and writhing and clutching at him. Against her 
will, she reached between their tight-clenched bodies, and her fingers found 
the outline of his long rampant penis and closed on it, squeezing, feeling 
the virile heat and the length and the urgent male hardness. It had been so 
long since.... 

"I want it," she moaned in abject surrender. "Lock the door!" 

With a chuckle, he untangled himself from her clutching arms, looking down 
at the tight pink slit of her hair-lined pussy which was already glistening 
with the wetness of her carnal desire. He saw the vacant, animal need in her 
wide, deep eyes and the slackness of her full sensuous mouth. God, how he'd 
like to put his cock there! But not yet. Not this time. Bend her to his 
will, make her cry for his prick, and then she'd suck it! Maybe having his 
cum burning her slender white throat would make her voice even huskier, make 
a better singer of her! But he'd have to wait. He locked the door and 
stripped. 

He tossed his shirt casually onto the nearest chair. Then, with one smooth 
motion, he peeled down both his flare slacks and his jockey shorts. His long 
thick cock, already rigid, sprang out and the mere sight of it made Bebe 
gasp in anticipation. She could imagine what it would feel like plundering 
her sensitive flesh, splitting the soft, tender lips of her pussy, driving 
up, up and up into the hungering depths of her cuntal canal! 

Skye stood over her, his fingers slowly stripping the thick, fleshy foreskin 
back until the bulbous, purplish head of his blood-engorged cock filled her 
entire vision. Bebe could see a pearly drop of pre-seminal fluid forming at 
the slit in the end, glistening, and she felt her own passion flowing 
wildly, lubricating her genitals in anticipation. She had not wanted this, 
but now that it was here, she could think of nothing but having it! Being 
filled with the long, hot, throbbing hardness of him. She moaned and 
involuntarily reached out to touch and fondle him. Her fingers would not 
encompass the girth of his cock. 

And then he was lowering himself over her nakedly writhing body, his warm 
wet lips closing on the rising bud of her nipples as she shifted, parting 
her long, smooth-tapered legs wide to accept his body. 

"Hold my balls and put it in," he ordered her, his hands roaming over her 
burning flesh. 

"Oooooohhhhhh!!!" the tantalized blonde singer gasped. She did as ordered, 
guiding his massive cock-head between the flexing wet lips of her pussy, 
feeling the heat of him and his heartbeat and his hot, heavy testicles in 
her delicate fingers. 

"Slide it up and down a little," he directed, looking down at the blonde 
singer with hard, determined eyes as he flexed his powerful hips. "Wet it up 
good, because I'm gonna fuck it in you in a way you'll never forget!" 

"Yes, Skye," Bebe whispered. With her slender fingers, she rubbed his 
burgeoning head between her moistly heated cunt lips until his penis was 
glistening with the slickness from her own coral-hued inner flesh. She 
rubbed it over the deliciously-aching button of her clitoris, trembling at 
the sensitive contact. She could feel her vaginal lips voraciously clutching 
at the hot intruder, and she had to have it in her, NOW! With a gasp she 
brought the dark red tip to the opening and positioned it so it lay just 
inside her hotly yearning flesh. She trembled as she felt his pelvis jerk 
forward a fraction of an inch and he insinuated his cock directly above its 
helpless target. Without protesting, she allowed his strong hands to raise 
her legs until her knees were pressed so far up they framed her 
lust-tortured face and her pussy was a wide-open plane helplessly splayed 
for the impending impalement. Then his big hands grasped her shoulders and 
he braced himself. The sheer size of his penis frightened her. She was not 
sure her almost virginal cunt could absorb it, and it was clear he was not 
going to be gentle with her. He was going to take her quick and hard, make 
her scream at the instant of penetration. Yet she knew that she could not 
stop herself, could not quell her wanton need. If he lifted himself away 
from her at this instant, she knew she would be screaming and clawing at him 
to pull him back. Rolling her head, she closed her eyes and pleaded, 
"Now-put it in me now!" 

Holding her wantonly trembling young body with vise-grip strength, Skye 
lunged forward. The mushroom-shaped head of his massive cock tore into the 
unresisting soft flesh, sending great ripples of pain ahead of it as, with 
the accuracy of a torpedo, it plunged into the deepest recesses of her tight 
little pussy. He continued his brutal thrust until the flexing tip rammed 
hard against her cervix and his heavy mass of cum-filled balls smacked wetly 
against her wide-stretched ass cheeks. With the same motion, he ground his 
powerful hips down into her in a circular motion. 

"Eeeeeeeeeyyyyyaaaahhhh!!!" Bebe cried out! "You're hurting me-eeeeee!" 

Her arms flexed and flailed in the air and locked tight around the straining 
muscles of his back, and her long legs flew helplessly outward into the air 
on either side of his body. She had never felt anything like it in her life! 
He was filling her straining, quaking belly, splitting her apart! She could 
feel his balls being ground into her sensitive anus as she writhed, bucking 
up against his impaling flesh. It hurt! She hadn't thought it was possible 
to hurt when you weren't a virgin, but there was so much of him, and he had 
taken her so quickly, without mercy, that her body, receptive and eager 
though it was, simply had not been ready for such a violently quick invasion 
by his rampant male flesh. Her cunt muscles twitched and then closed around 
the intruding shaft of pulsating hardness, and her entire body jerked, 
trying to dislodge him. But he held her tight in his powerful arms, while 
his lean, hard body was pressing her down on the sofa. She felt him flex the 
entire length of his hotly throbbing cock inside her pain-stretched pussy 
as, for a moment he remained motionless, allowing her cuntal walls to 
stretch and meet the dimensions of his lust-swollen penis. 

Bebe moaned, and her eyelids fluttered as she tried to accustom herself to 
the wild sensations which were flooding through her obscenely-stretched 
body. 

"Fuck, Bebe!" Skye panted. "Hit me with that hot little pussy of yours. Make 
music, baby! Fuck!" 

He began to screw in and out of her, the thick shaft of his penis drilling 
into her moistly yielding flesh. On each outstroke, her pink cuntal flesh 
wrapped like a soft, wet glove around the tree-like dimension of his cock 
and the clutching lips of her tight little pussy sucked at it like another 
mouth. Then, lunging forward, he repeatedly buried himself to the very hilt 
in her ravished young body again as his sperm-laden balls smacked loudly 
against her straining ass-cheeks. With each stroke she grunted, her sensuous 
mouth hanging open, her tongue tip fluttering across her full parted lips. 
Bebe began to moan and sigh and fuck up to the impaling rod of flesh 
urgently. Her fingernails raked his back, making little red lines in the 
rippling muscles. 

She wished she liked Skye, but she didn't. She wished she liked herself, but 
she couldn't do that either. All she could do was lie under him, look down 
and see his massive maleness ramming and reaming into her defenseless 
vaginal passage and glory in the ecstatic sensations that he was giving her. 
With shame, she realized that to him she was just meat-a piece of ass he'd 
been after for a long time. And now, he had caught her at just the right 
moment, a moment when she needed what he had even more than he needed 
her-much more, because he had all the girls he could handle, and she had 
deprived herself too long. 

As the lean musician continued to furiously fuck into her clamoring cuntal 
flesh, Bebe, with part of her mind, admitted that it had been much too long 
since she had allowed herself the physical relief that any healthy young 
woman needs regularly. She had held back, wanting some vague thing called 
LOVE, and, of course, there had been no love, no matter how she had tried to 
pretend. She had driven herself up a tree with her self-denial. 

Now she must learn to let go, and enjoy. Perhaps reach orgasm for the first 
time. She knew Skye was very good ... if anyone could bring her to the peak, 
on a purely physical, sensual level, he should be the one. 

And she was getting there! 

Moaning and thrashing, she urgently fucked the wide-splayed plane of her 
hair-lined cuntal furrow up to his rampant maleness. She felt the heat and 
urgency of his long thick hardness pistoning in and out of her 
passionately-eager body as she freed a hand to reach behind his plunging 
buttocks and find the heavy sac of his balls which was wet and slippery 
already with the fluids from her own straining body. 

"Oooooohhhhhhhh ... goooooodddddd!!" Bebe moaned against her will. "It's 
killing me! Don't stop!" 

Freeing her legs, she planted her feet on the cushion beneath them and began 
to strain and screw her passionate body up and down the long length of his 
thick rigid cock as he poised above her. Like a hungry mouth her wetly 
throbbing cunt devoured his maleness, and she could feel her matted pubic 
hairs tangling with his pelvic curls on every stroke. 

"Ugh! Ugh! Uuuuuugggghhhhh!!!" the thrashing blonde grunted as her fingers, 
with a skill she didn't know she had, began to milk his sperm-bloated balls. 
She pulled his triumphant mouth down to hers and captured it, sending the 
long, hot spear of her tongue deep into his throat and sucking his own 
tongue between her passion swollen lips. She moaned, "Almost ... I can 
feel...." 

The fire was spreading deep within her straining belly. It was like-well, 
like nothing she had ever known before. No cliche, like a volcano erupting 
or a searing-hot typhoon sweeping through her vitals would ever describe it. 
It was just something so ecstatic, so wonderful that was spreading through 
her, making every muscle in her body spasm, every nerve tingle, and she was 
going out of her mind! 

Wantonly yielding to her own carnal desires, needs which she had never 
before realized fully that she had! 

And then in an instant, like the vanishing of a dream on sudden awakening, 
there was no more of him! 

What had been hard and hot and long, splitting her eager pussy, burrowing 
into the very depths of her womb, was no longer there. Nothing but a doughy 
mass of flaccid flesh that squished and bent double even as his hips pounded 
down against her urgently open genitals. 

"Don't cum!" the aroused blonde cried. "Not yet! I'm almost there! I'm 
almost cummminnnnngggg!" Eyes wide with the torture she was undergoing, she 
looked up at his straining, handsome face, and saw the frustration there as 
she cried out in desperation, "Keep fucking! Keep fucking meeeeeeee!!!" 

"Shit, it's gone," Skye Brent moaned. "Damn thing just quit!" 

"Ooooh, nooooo...." Bebe groaned in frustration. Bitter tears filled her 
passion-glazed eyes, and when she could focus on his grimacing face, she 
said, "You didn't cum!" 

It was not a question. It was a statement of fact. Although her sexual 
experience was extremely limited, she knew what it felt like when a man shot 
her full of his sperm. Her pussy was flooded with thick, hot, whitish cum. 
His cock got bigger and harder and twitched and she could actually feel the 
jets of his semen inside her. And this time there had been none of that! One 
instant he had been long and throbbing and fucking inside her-and then 
nothing! 

"It happens sometimes," Skye said miserably. "I fuck great just so long, and 
then my prick quits. I can get it up again in a few minutes, maybe ... if 
you help." 

"Ooooooh, how?" the torturously-aroused girl moaned. She could still feel 
her vitals churning, on the very edge of giving her a real orgasm for the 
first time. She would do anything, if only he would get hard and go back 
into her-just a few minutes would do it. No matter what the price, she was 
now so aroused the would do anything! She mumbled, "What do you want me to 
do?" 

"Suck it a little," Skye said. 

"Not that ... I never have!" the shocked girl protested. 

"Bebe, it's the only way." He rose above her, fingering the shortening, wet 
softness of himself. "Just take it in your mouth for a minute and we'll 
finish. Once it gets up again, it'll be a lot better even than before." 

"No," Bebe Randolph protested weakly. She could see the obscene, shrunken 
mass of his maleness, and it seemed incredible that just minutes before it 
had been so hard and hot and thick and vital in her urgently-pulsing vagina 
... her love-starved pussy that needed it for just a little longer. It 
glistened wetly now with her own sweet-scented womanhood. "I never have...." 

"Bebe, there's no other way," the lewdly-grinning guitarist said as he rose 
over her, peeling the loose, wet foreskin back. "Just seeing your lips tight 
around it will get me so horny that it'll be like a baseball bat!" Then, a 
compassionate tone coming into his voice, he said, "I feel like a shit, 
leaving you hung up this way-but you don't cum easy. Look, if you really 
don't want to, I'll go down, give you some head, get you off with my tongue. 
It won't be the same, but that's the best I can do." 

"Oooooh, my God...." the aroused girl moaned. She didn't want his tongue, 
even though she'd never had one. She wanted his cock, big and hard and thick 
and long, buried deep inside her hotly excited pussy, ripping her apart. She 
knew he was as upset as she was. She reached out to cup his balls and felt 
them heavy with his semen, sperm that he wanted to shoot into her as 
urgently as she wanted it. Her violet eyes managed to focus on the shrunken 
penis, and she found herself wondering what it would taste like. Every girl 
she knew sucked, so it couldn't be too bad ... and she'd read several books 
written by marriage counselors who said it was performing normally when you 
indulged in oral sex. She felt her natural defenses crumbling, and 
whispered, "I'll try." 

"And you'll dig it, Bebe," he said confidently as he moved up on the sofa 
until his genitals were poised less than two inches above her partly-open 
lips. "Use the tip of your tongue and lick around a little ... then open 
your mouth wide. Don't suck too hard." 

"You won't cum in my mouth," she pleaded. 

"No ... just get me hard again. Keep your lips over your teeth and play with 
it with your tongue." 

Abjectly, unable to control herself, Bebe Randolph took his soft penis into 
her fingers and stroked it teasingly, trying to urge an erection upon Skye 
before she actually had to suck, but nothing happened. He was crouched above 
her lust-tortured face, and she trembled as she brought the glistening tip 
to her lips. The heady man-scent filled her nostrils, causing them to flare. 
She steeled herself for what was to come. This was totally repulsive to her, 
yet if she was going to put out the raging fires in her loins, it was 
something she would have to do and she was willing to make the sacrifice. 
Her eyes could only see the curly-haired thatch of his pelvis and the 
still-swollen balls as he moved sinuously and the wet, slick head of his 
penis slid across her lips that were still open only a fraction of an inch. 
Bebe had the thought that if he was hard and urgent, it might be easier for 
her to accept him into her mouth. But this wet softness was not at all 
arousing to her. Yet she had to do it! 

She tried and then shook her head and said, "I can't ... You'll have to ... 
to put it in my mouth." 

"Okay ... lick," he ordered. 

Obediently, she extended her tongue, tasting a man's penis for the first 
time. Strangely, it wasn't unpleasant, and she had the vagrant thought, 
wondering how much of what she was tasting was him and how much was from her 
own hotly aroused pussy. She felt the soft, velvety head slide across her 
wetly parted lips and steeled herself for the moment it would actually 
penetrate her mouth. She let her eyes close and surrendered herself to the 
teasing of his penis. She sensed that he needed every bit of sensuality in 
order to regain his erection. Relaxing, allowing him to do whatever he 
wanted with her trembling lips, she began to caress his naked buttocks and 
his muscular legs and arms. She felt his cock twitch as he rubbed it over 
her cheeks, and she knew he had told the truth-if she helped him with her 
mouth, he would be able to finish what he started, give her what she so 
desperately needed between her legs. 

"Um mm mm mm...." Bebe whispered, sending her tongue on a new exploration 
down the length of his penis, licking the fragrant juices from it. 
Unconsciously, her hands began to trail over him, feeling his young, hard 
muscle structure. He was sweating, and the odor of him was acrid in her 
flaring nostrils. She opened her passion-blurred eyes to look at him as her 
fingers kneaded his biceps. Right now-kneeling above her-he could do 
anything he wanted with her. And then her horrified gaze fixed on the long 
line of scars on the inside of his elbows, and without consciously thinking 
of what she was doing, she violently thrust the naked musician away, clawing 
at him, slapping as she screamed, "Get away from me!" 

"What in the hell?" Skye Brent blurted, trying to figure out what had 
suddenly come over this blonde singer he had been trying to fuck for so 
long. Damn, she was hot for it-and now she'd freaked! "How come you flip?" 

"You rotten son of a bitch!" she hissed, her full lips curling in distaste 
as her sharp nails clawed her arms. "I know why you lost it. , . went soft! 
You're shooting dope! What is it? Horse? Coke? Meth? Oh, you dirty, lousy 
rat!" 

"Bebe, it's not all that bad," he countered, rising above her, trying to get 
away from her savagely-slashing nails. "I'm not hooked, or like that. Just 
enough to get a lift!" 

"Get out!" she screamed wildly, flailing at him. "Smoking pot is bad enough! 
But you're on HARD STUFF! How long? How many fixes do you need every day? 
How much does the habit cost, Skye? No-don't tell me-I don't want to know! 
Just get out! Out! OUT YOU IDIOT!!!" Her voice fell as she began to sob. She 
turned away from him, curling into a ball on the sofa and the tears streamed 
while he awkwardly dressed. As he was going out the door, she raised her 
head, and said, "I feel sorry for you ... really! Try to kick it. If I can 
help ... I will. But don't come near me again until your body is clean. AND 
I MEAN CLEAN!!! Hit the street, junkie!" 

For a long time, Bebe Randolph lay immobile, the fire in her loins banked 
and forgotten. It sickened her to think of a healthy young, handsome, 
talented man like Skye Brent with a monkey on his back. She had seen too 
much of that sort of thing. Her fury abating, she vowed she would try to 
help him if he wanted help. 

Meanwhile, she would clean up again and go home. Maybe even have one more 
drink than she should, making a grand total of two. 

 CHAPTER TWO 

Taking her second shower within two hours, Bebe Randolph examined herself as 
best she could in the light of the trauma which she had experienced, and she 
faced certain facts. 

She decided definitely she had repressed herself too much. She certainly 
didn't have to turn into a wanton slut, but she was a healthy, passionate 
woman of twenty-nine who looked almost ten years younger and was extremely 
attractive to men. And she enjoyed the company of men in almost every 
context ... she enjoyed performing on stage, she enjoyed having dinner in a 
good restaurant, going to the beach and all kinds of things. She did not 
like to be pawed and mauled yet urgently wanted and needed physical contact 
with males. And, she told herself with what she thought was honesty, she was 
not a cock-tease or a show-biz whore. She had never played games with any of 
the agency people just to get ahead. She had confidence in her talent and 
ability, and if these things led her to make a lot of money, and public 
adulation, that would be nice. If they didn't, she could always take her 
guitar into small clubs and at least make a living. 

Bebe was not happy with the way the agency-personified by the ebullient Matt 
Matthews set about exploiting her talent and looks, but realized that any 
star who made it big had to give a bit, allow promotions which might be 
personally distasteful in order to reach millions of people instead of a few 
hundred. 

Matt Matthers had put the whole schmeer together. He had invented the 
Weeping Willows by collecting a half-dozen young musicians who could make 
interesting sounds together, and he had put Bebe Randolph to work with them. 
Bebe had wanted to go solo with only her guitar and her personality, but the 
agency man knew better, and she had gone along with his judgement. 
Financially, he had been right-she made five or six times what she could 
make as a single. She was being developed, the Weeping Willows were being 
developed. They were on TV regularly, which helped promote the records and 
concerts. It was understood that in time they would split. She could do her 
thing, and they could do theirs. 

From a business point of view, it was beautiful. 

To live in it was hell. 

But no more hell than is involved in carrying trays in a pancake house, or 
being a cocktail girl or a telephone operator, and the work certainly paid 
much better. And it was nice, when on a concert tour, to not even have to 
sign credit cards for any thing, to know everything was handled in advance 
by Matt Matthers. 

"Count your blessings, dum-dum," Bebe Randolph muttered to herself as she 
dried off and dressed in a violet minidress and matching calf-high leather 
boots which matched her eyes. She left the studio building and found the 
Citroen sports coupe with the Masserati engine in its shaded parking stall. 
Like everything else which Matt Matthers decreed, it was painted to match 
the violet of her eyes. She was supposed to be conspicuous. The car would do 
almost a hundred and fifty miles an hour, and if she didn't collect ten 
speeding tickets a month, he wanted to know why. 

Bebe Randolph had refused flatly to live anywhere close to the Los Angeles 
basin. She had found a Spanish-styled house of modest dimensions high in the 
hills just south of Santa Barbara, where she lived alone. Set among 
eucalyptus and oak trees, it gave her the privacy she needed when she could 
afford the time. She had a part-time maid who saw to it that the place was 
clean and stocked with food. 

She let the powerful car have its head, spending the frustrations in her 
young and eager body. The aerodynamic design glued it to the road, aided by 
the hydraulic suspension system. She was cruising at a hundred and thirty 
miles an hour when she passed the two California Highway Patrol bike cops, 
who were doing a comfortable eighty. Far back in her rear-view mirror, she 
saw the red lights begin to flash. There was no oncoming traffic and she 
punched the hot machine hard, staying well ahead until she came to a sharp 
turn where there was enough space to pull over. She lighted one of her rare 
cigarettes and watched them go roaring by, cranking on the big Harleys for 
all they were worth. She was still there five minutes later when they had 
managed to shut off and return. They did not look happy, but the one with 
sergeant's stripes had himself under control. He parked his bike in front of 
the Citroen as if afraid it would flee and bent down to talk to her through 
the open window. He was polite in a strained way as he inquired whether she 
had any idea how fast she had been going. 

Glancing at the stop-needle on the speedometer, Bebe Randolph said, "Roughly 
137.5802 miles an hour. Start writing." 

He had his citation book out, but slipped it back into his pocket. He 
stepped back to admire the sleek car, which came only up to his hips, and 
said, "What is it?" 

She told him. She told him what it could do, and he didn't believe. He was 
tall and lean, maybe in his mid-thirties, and handsome in a rugged sort of 
way. He looked like he might have had to lay the big Harley-Davidson down a 
few times-there were scars. She knew he had eyes for her. She saw he wasn't 
wearing any rings. And she was hungry for a man. Bebe Randolph climbed out 
of the hot French-Italian car, with a flash of golden thighs and said, 
"There's ten miles of good road ahead. Take it for a spin. I was blowing 
dust, and you can write me. You look like a man who knows wheels. Roll it!" 

The challenge was too much for the cop. He wormed his way into the bucket 
seat, took a moment to figure out the gearshift and said to his partner, 
"Clock me ... ,Pm invited." 

He took off in a cloud of dust, with the other bike cop hard on his tail, 
cranking the big Harley on. Bebe Randolph watched her car disappear, 
thinking that all cops weren't necessarily pigs. 

And this one had left his bike behind, with his crash helmet slung over the 
handlebars. 

Well, that could be fun too. She had never been on one of the California 
Highway Patrol bikes. 

She strapped the helmet on. She knew how the gears worked. It took her a 
minute to find the switches for the red lights and siren. And then she was 
after them, cranking it on hard, the wind tearing her mouth open as she 
crouched low over the tank, her blond hair streaming. 

The sergeant was feeling out the big Citroen, or she knew she would never 
have caught them. The Harley was too big and cumbersome, but it would move! 
Bebe brought it alongside on the eight-lane divided road and laughed at 
their looks of astonishment. They waved her down at the next turnout and had 
to help her put the big bike on its stand. There was too much weight for 
her. 

"I hope nobody saw you on that iron pony," the sergeant said. 

"Would anybody believe?" she countered. 

"I doubt that ... I don't believe." 

"You like my car?" 

"Quite a set of wheels," he conceded. 

Bebe Randolph fished her wallet out and handed him her license. 

"You can't think I'll write you after this," the sergeant said. 

"You can write down my address." 

He did. With a grin and a wink, she dropped into the bucket seat of the 
Citroen again and took off in a cloud of dust. 

She was only mildly piqued when she realized that he hadn't recognized her 
name. But then, he'd been looking mostly at her legs. 

And his motorcycle ... it could move. 

Maybe a man like the sergeant, a lean, mature man who knew his business, 
could bring her to the release she needed so much. 

She hoped he would find some reason to call by her house. 

* * * 

Once home, Bebe Randolph put the fast car away and restlessly prowled the 
house, wondering what to do with herself. She was restless as a cat in a 
strange garret. She felt the unsatisfied yearning in her sleek body, wanted 
desperately to finish what had been started. She turned on the color TV 
console and found nothing at all to interest her on any of the channels. The 
maid had come and gone hours before. There were no nearby neighbors, and if 
there had been, she probably wouldn't have been on intimate terms with them 
anyway. She often wondered what the other people who lived in the 
thickly-wooded hills of the area were like. Did they have regular families, 
go to workaday jobs and the PTA and Safeway and things like that? 
Undoubtedly they did-but they lived in another world. 

Bebe often thought she really needed a lover. Not simply for the sex, but 
for someone to come home to ... someone with whom she could put her feet up 
on the coffee table and have a drink and relax and talk. Of course, it would 
be nice to have the sex which would go with it, but more than the sex, she 
was sure she needed human companionship above all. 

That, of course, she could have with the crooking of her little finger and a 
smile. Men would come flocking ... men who would use her, make a fool of 
her, hurt her as Skye Brent had just done. And that sort of thing she could 
surely live without. The loneliness was preferable. 

The trouble was, it brought on a temptation to retreat even deeper inside 
herself. She knew that if she yielded, started to drink alone to dull the 
emptiness, enter a world of alcoholic fantasy, soon she would be seeing the 
world through a bottle. 

Bebe thought it would be wise to fix herself something to eat, yet she hated 
to eat alone. She considered driving to one of the dim, quiet restaurants in 
Santa Barbara and decided that would be even worse-to be by herself and 
surrounded by families or lovers out on a date. Restlessly she put a 
long-playing tape on the big Roberts. Not one of hers-she heard enough of 
her own voice. She set the volume low and rummaged through a stack of 
paperback books, which she bought by the dozen, in futile search for 
something that looked interesting. She tried a couple and could not get into 
them. She wanted a drink, but would not let herself have one. Long ago she 
had set a rule for herself when she really wanted liquor, that was the time 
not to have any. Finally, she lit another cigarette. 

Then, in the gathering dusk, she saw headlights turning into the drive. Her 
heart thumped as she wondered if the Highway Patrol sergeant had picked up 
on her blatant invitation, but on going to the picture window, she saw it 
was the combo's station wagon. 

Oh, no! Bebe whispered. The last thing she wanted was to be invaded by 
folk-rock musicians who, after their long session in the studio were quite 
likely stoned on pot, or half drunk, or both. But even so, it would mean she 
was no longer alone, and she knew she could handle them. So, almost happily, 
she went to the heavy oaken front door and opened it. 

She was surprised to discover it was Fargo Gonzales, the Chicano band boy, 
and he was alone. 

The slender, handsome Mexican-American teenager was carrying an attache 
case, and she found it incongruous. The case belonged in the hands of a big 
studio executive or an industrialist or possibly a diplomat and looked very 
much out of place conveyed by a boy who barely had to shave, one who wore an 
open-neck sports shirt and faded jeans and cowboy boots. Equally startling 
was his appearance at her house. He had never been here before-she had not 
been aware he even knew where she lived and she sensed he might be 
uncomfortable to find himself in this enclave of the wealthy. She knew he 
came from the barrios of East Los Angeles and was trying to escape to a 
better life, despite a basic lack of education. Bebe flashed her best 
welcoming smile at him. 

"Why, Fargo!" she said, tossing her pale mane of blonde hair back. "Whatever 
are you doing here?" 

"Miss Bebe, after you left the studio, a messenger came from NBC with tape 
of your appearance on that talk show. There was a note saying you were to 
approve, and that it is necessary it be done tonight. I was asked to bring 
the tape, so I bring it to you." 

"Oh, thank you!" the taffy-haired singer said. "Really, it was too 
much-making you drive a hundred miles just for this. It could have waited 
until I went to the studio in the morning." 

"I was told it was important," the slender dark-skinned youth said with a 
shy grin. "And it is nice to have a reason to come away from Los Angeles to 
this beautiful town. Also, I have just now gotten my driving license, and I 
like to drive." 

"Of course," Bebe Randolph replied, realizing that for this handsome 
youngster actually having both a license and access to a car was a major 
event in his young life. Through her mind flashed the question of how long 
he would remain so sweet and innocent. Would the jungle of the East Los 
Angeles ghetto swallow him up, or would he survive, go on to a better life 
than that of his parents and his numerous brothers and sisters? In the few 
months he had been with the group, he had impressed her with his earnest 
desire to work. No matter what hour of day or night, he was always there, 
unobtrusively on the fringes, ready to perform the most menial task with a 
quick, white-toothed smile. "Well, you can't just turn around and go back. I 
was just going to fix some dinner, and you're going to help me eat it!" 

She could instantly sense the unexpected invitation took him by surprise, 
and perhaps frightened him. He, Fargo Gonzales, the Chicano band boy, being 
invited to eat in this luxurious home ... and a meal which the lovely Bebe 
Randolph, the rising folk-rock star, would prepare with her own beautiful 
hands! Smiling, she tried to put him at ease as she took his hand and drew 
him into the house and swung the heavy door shut behind him. And Bebe 
thought to herself, if only he could stay this way, kind and helpful and 
respectful and-and innocent! Yet she knew the jungle that lay glittering in 
the myriad lights of Los Angeles-and all the other big cities. She knew of 
the temptations of girls and liquor and narcotics, and how susceptible the 
under-priviliged members of minority groups were to these things. 

Although she herself had not been culturally deprived, and had come from a 
comfortably-well-off family which even today did not quite approve of her 
career, she had seen enough to realize why so many youngsters revolted, 
became anti-social, indulging themselves in dope and God only knew what 
else. It was to break the deadly monotony of their drab, apparently hopeless 
existences. 

In her own way, Bebe realized her choice of career was a mild revolt. Her 
voice was full and clear, with a good, if not remarkable range, and she had 
a way of coming through to any audience. When she had firmly set her mind on 
an entertainment career, her family had tried in vain to persuade her to 
strive to be a Gospel singer. But Bebe had never been able to picture 
herself done up in choir robes with a chorus of a hundred to back her up and 
some evangelist following her with exhortations to repent and find the true 
path trodden by Jesus. This was not to say she was irreligious. She simply 
would not have felt right commercializing on the Bible. 

And, having seen many of the Christian "crusades" on TV, and even attended 
some meetings out of curiosity, she had come to the conclusion that they 
were more showbiz than her own work. They might be justified by the argument 
that by being shown on the tube, they influenced millions of people and 
saved some from God only knew what terrible fate, they were still showbiz 
and the evangelists all had expense accounts which would break the Pentagon. 

Bebe Randolph had an innate dislike of hypocrisy. And there were times, 
lying alone in her big bed in the early hours of a morning, unable to sleep, 
that she wondered if perhaps she was not as big a hypocrite as any other. 

Because she denied herself. 

She steadfastly denied herself the right to be a woman, to enjoy her 
voluptuous woman's body and take a man wantonly, as she deeply wanted to do, 
and instead finding only superficial, physical, false release through 
masturbation. Bebe was only too aware of the feral animal that lurked just 
below the smooth golden surface of her skin. Although she routinely 
protested the revealing dresses and skin-tight costumes the agency insisted 
she wear, in moments of true honesty the blonde singer had to admit that she 
was subconsciously saying, Hey, look at me! as she undulated on the stage, 
hips grinding, pelvis thrusting, short skirt flaring up to show sheer bikini 
panties and the shadowy triangle of her softly-curling pubic hair. 

Bebe tried to tell herself she didn't want things like the fast, violet-hued 
car which had cost over twenty-five-thousand dollars (and was paid for by 
the agency) and the adulation of millions of young, teenage fans, and the 
constant exposure on television talk shows and specials, where she was 
sometimes called "the girl-type Johnny Cash," a phrase invented by some 
flack. 

If she didn't want it, why did she work so hard to have it? she sometimes 
asked herself in moments of torturing honesty. 

You want it-shut up and go get it! an inner voice replied. It's your thing, 
so do it the best you can, and maybe the rest of it will all settle itself 
in time. 

"I can't stay that long, if I am to get back to the city tonight," Fargo 
said, pulling her away from her personal thoughts. "I can stop at a drive-in 
for a hamburger, Miss Bebe." 

"Nonsense!" she snapped, immediately regretting the curt tone of voice, and 
trying to soften her next words as she smiled at the flustered teenage 
youth. "Fargo, I've had a trying day. I don't want to be alone-to eat alone. 
I was thinking of going out to a restaurant, but just by myself would be 
worse than staying here in this big house. Now, I have to view this tape, 
and I would really like to know what you think of it, because you're a young 
man, close to the age of most of my fans, and I think your opinion would be 
very valuable to me-you know, if you think something should be cut out. It's 
a late-night show and they make some sort of blue remarks and it'll be 
important to me to find out if any of the talk turns you off." Bebe smiled 
again, winsomely as she added, "I can't judge myself ... maybe I say some 
things that are all wrong for what the agency calls 'my image' and you could 
help me pick those things out." 

"Miss Bebe, I bet you never said a dirty word in your life!" 

"Oh, I have," she assured him. "But I try to keep them under my breath, 
Fargo." She brightened suddenly. "Now that I'm not alone, I might allow 
myself the drink I've been thinking about for hours. I don't suppose you 
drink." 

"My family always has wine at meals," he said shyly. "And I like a beer-when 
I can swipe one from my old man's six-pack." 

"And I used to smoke Bull Durham back of the barn too," the vivacious singer 
said with a hearty laugh. "A beer you get." 

With an unintentionally-saucy roll of her well-turned buttocks, the same 
movement she used when on the bandstand grinding and belting out a song, 
Bebe strode to the kitchen and checked the refrigerator. Three six-packs of 
beer, long-untouched, were there thoroughly chilled. In a cabinet were 
bottles of bourbon, Scotch, vodka and gin, all covered with dust. She 
uncapped a bottle of imported beer and, after some deliberation, decided to 
make a bourbon and soda for herself. She could not remember when she had 
last had a drink at home. Weeks certainly, maybe months. She kept the liquor 
only because from time to time agency or studio people came on business and 
it was expected she would offer some refreshment. But now, thinking of the 
virile young teenager in the high-vaulted living room, and with her loins 
still churning from the abortive sex she'd attempted with Skye Brent, she 
needed something to calm her nerves. 

Oh my God, NO! she suddenly said to herself, realizing that she had been 
thinking in fantasy of young Fargo Gonzales as a sex partner-and the kid was 
barely half her age! 

Bebe took a minute to compose herself. She put the beer and drink on a tray, 
along with a dish of mixed nuts, and carried them back to the living room. 
Fargo had found himself a seat on a leather-upholstered sofa facing the 
darkened glass eye of the television. He stood as she entered the room, and 
his movement brought to mind the question of how long it had been since a 
male had risen at her entry-or that of any other woman. Somehow the display 
of old-fashioned courtesy touched her, and she smiled her appreciation. 

"Are you starving?" the flustered blonde asked as she bent low to put the 
tray on the teakwood table. She realized only after she was in the position 
that the loose, low-cut bodice of her minidress had fallen away from the 
firm, creamy mounds of her breasts, and that the boy couldn't pull his eyes 
from the coral-tipped fullness, and that he could surely see the out thrust 
tips of her nipples. Blushing, she continued to speak, but without 
straightening up, because that would have told him she was embarrassed too 
... and anyway, the exigencies of show business, where complete changes of 
costume sometimes had to be made in less than a half a minute, had of 
necessity bared her body to male eyes in the most casual of ways. "I can 
start the potatoes and vegetables cooking, and while they're going, we can 
watch the tape. I have some beautiful steak, and that only takes a few 
minutes." 

"Whatever you want, Miss Bebe," he said, his dark, handsome Latin face 
flushing as his brown eyes reluctantly lifted from her openly-displayed 
cleavage and managed to meet her own violet orbs without flinching. Knowing 
she had caught him looking, the shy teenager tried to find something to say, 
a way to divert both their attentions from the unnerving circumstance. He 
quickly poured beer into the chilled glass and tasted it, smacking his lips. 
"This is really good beer! American beer they make from chemicals, you know. 
They make it without what you call calories, so the women won't get fat." He 
grinned. "So they drink it all day and they get fat anyhow. A Mexican would 
rather have a glass of wine." 

"I think there is some wine ... I'm not sure...." Bebe said. 

"Oh, no, Miss Bebe." He flashed the fine white teeth, framed by a full, 
sensitive mouth. "I can have wine at home-and I would not know good wine 
anyway. But this is fine beer." 

"It's from Holland," she said, moving to sit with a comfortable distance 
between them. "And I want you to stop calling me "Miss Bebe"-it's not 
necessary. Everybody else calls me just 'Bebe' including the janitor, and 
you are much more important to us all than the janitor. So, Fargo, it's 
'Bebe' from now on. Si!" 

"If you wish," he said. "But I am only the band boy, and happy to be that." 

"Oh, don't give me the poor peon bit!" Bebe retorted. "You're a young, 
handsome man and you're doing a very important job! Where would we be 
without someone like you to pack up all the instruments and amplifiers and 
scores and see that they get where they're supposed to go, and then set them 
up, and take care of all the other things? I'll tell you-we'd never get 
anything done!" Impulsively she leaned over and kissed him on the cheek and 
said, "If we didn't have you, Fargo, we'd have to invent you!" 

Glowing with pride, blushing and feeling wild male arousal at her impulsive 
kiss, Fargo Gonzales realized that this beautiful blonde chica, the one 
millions of young people were flocking to, really thought of him as 
something more than just another chicano burro. She was lovely, not only in 
her beauty, but as a person. She cared about him as a man who was doing a 
necessary, important job, work deserving of respect. 

It was beyond belief, to be in this magnificent house with this most 
beautiful of all creatures. He felt a blush rising in his face as he thought 
of how many nights he had lain awake in his musty room in the barrio, 
summoning up visions of her long-legged, high-breasted beauty, had in his 
mind slowly stripped her naked and caressed Bebe into wild passion until 
finally, with a groan of uncontrollable desire, she had dropped to her knees 
and buried her beautiful face in his young loins, eagerly, wantonly sucking 
his throbbing cock up between her beautiful lips and licking and nibbling it 
until his sperm had wildly cascaded into the hot cavern of her mouth and 
down the gulping white column of her graceful throat.... 

And then his punishing, grasping hand had clenched with unbearable tightness 
around the length of his young manhood and he had lewdly jetted his hot, 
thick semen on the sweat-stained sheets. 

And now here he, Fargo Gonzales, school dropout, was actually in Bebe 
Randolph's own home! He was drinking a beer she had brought him, and she was 
going to cook him dinner and they would watch a tape of her latest 
television appearance-he would be seeing it before any of the public, and 
she was going to ask for his opinion of her performance. 

The sheer magnitude of it dazzled the young Mexican-American. He hoped he 
could go on working with Miss Bebe and the combo for a long time. He had his 
own wild hopes and dreams, and he kept telling himself he had done the right 
thing in quitting school and making a job for himself. 

In the ghettoes, youth is fleeting. By the age of six, a chicano boy is an 
accomplished thief. By the age of ten, he is pimping for his sisters. Fargo 
Gonzales had done these things, and others, through necessity. He was not 
proud of it, and he was trying to get out. 

While his strong young body strained to carry the heavy amplifiers and other 
equipment and he ran, not walked, with sandwiches and coffee, he watched and 
listened and learned. He learned gestures and speech, and he was learning to 
play a guitar, and how to phrase a song, how to perform. He would have done 
it all without a cent of salary, just to learn, and craftily, to meet people 
who might help him in years to come ... the agency people, the booking 
agents. Sammy Davis Jr. had once bought him a Coke and told him he had a 
very expressive face, if only he could learn to control his eye 
movements.... 

Watching Fargo, Bebe Randolph could see the handsome youth was lost in some 
reverie of his own. She knew all his waking thoughts were on show business, 
and wondered if he had forgotten her presence. She studied him, and 
inevitably, her eyes moved to the crotch of his tight jeans. 

What met her gaze was unmistakable! He was hard! The long outline of his 
youthful cock was throbbing against the tight fabric, and she could see a 
dark stain of pre-seminal fluid seeping through it. His balls were pushing 
out below, and she wondered if this was for her. 

Was he day-dreaming about making love to her? 

Well, they all did, she told herself. And Fargo Gonzales would be more 
likely to do it than most, imagine himself in the most erotic, even obscene 
and lewd postures with her than most others, because he was exposed to her 
so much. 

Bebe wondered what it would be like to be in his position, a teenager 
worshipping a blonde goddess created by the mass media, without any hope of 
attaining the impossible goal. She honestly wondered how some of them 
managed to restrain themselves ... wondered how often how many of them got 
on a high watching her or hearing her voice on tape or records, and then 
vented their sex frustrations on their teeny-bopper girl friends. With a 
quick movement, she raised her glass and drained it. 

"Fargo, I'm going to start dinner now," she said, combing her long blonde 
hair back from her face with delicate fingers. "Then we'll have a look at 
the tape." 

She had to get away, even for a few minutes. In the kitchen Bebe Randolph 
hastily ripped open packs of frozen vegetables, barely pausing to read the 
directions before dropping them into appropriate pots. She found two large 
Idaho potatoes and stuck them in the oven. She took two T-bone steaks from 
the cooler and smeared butter on them, then salt and fresh ground pepper and 
put them aside. A packet of minestrone soup mix went into a pot and onto the 
stove. Bebe was not an expert cook but she was efficient. She could take 
several dishes, each requiring a different cooking time, and get them all on 
the table at once. In less than ten minutes, dinner was on the way. 

The potatoes would take an hour-the other things could be put on the fire in 
accordance. The time would be enough for her to audit the TV tape. She fixed 
a second drink for herself, after peeking into the living room and seeing 
Fargo had barely touched his beer. She fed the video tape into the playback 
machine and settled down on the sofa to watch it with critical eyes. The 
scene which began to unfold in full color could be very important to her 
within the next few months, or the next year. It was the top late-night talk 
show, or a major segment of one. The host was casual, witty, and had 
magnificent timing. He could do more with a questioning glance than anyone 
else in the business could do with a five-minute monologue written by the 
top writers in the country. One despairing shake of his head, and careers 
fell apart. A smile at the right instant made millions. 

Bebe Randolph's segment was not part of a regular broadcast. She did two 
numbers, and bantered with her host, but the bit was one of three which 
would be assembled at a later date in order to provide a show while the host 
was on vacation. It would all be put together so expertly that the home 
viewer would never realize he wasn't watching one single show, but looking 
at bits and pieces which had been carefully edited together. 

Propping her chin on her delicate hand, Bebe leaned against the back of the 
oversize leather sofa and gave her image her most critical eyes. She didn't 
like the sound track too much from the start, but knew the technicians would 
fix it, and dismissed it from her mind. She was most concerned with her 
visual image and the way her responses to the chatter came through. 

Her opening number went well. She was wearing a silver-sequined micro-mini, 
cut low in front to show cleavage, and very short, exposing the sleek, 
well-turned length of her thighs. She wore calf-high boots with exaggerated 
heels to emphasize the length and beauty of her legs. She decided her body 
language was good. And then, handing the mike to the announcer, she saw 
herself striding beautifully to the guest chair beside the host's desk, and 
sitting down, crossing the long golden legs. 

"Ooooh, nooooo...," she whispered. 

The dress had been shorter than she realized. When she sat, it rode up her 
thighs, exposing the rich, full hemispheres of her tight-muscled young 
buttocks and even giving a suggestion of her soft-furred cuntal slit in the 
fragment of time during which she was crossing her legs. Maybe only a tenth 
of a second, but it was there! She knew she should have worn panty hose that 
night, but the makeup guys had assured her there was nothing worth worrying 
about, that hose caught the light and looked artificial and she would come 
through much better with natural flesh tones. And she had believed. Well, 
she consoled herself, Credence Cleanmind, the legendary network censor, 
would catch the flash and chop it. 

"What's the matter?" Fargo had heard her gasp of dismay, and he reached out 
without thinking, covering her hand with his own. The contact with her flesh 
sent an electric shock through his young body, and then he didn't want to 
pull away, because he was afraid she would think he was some kind of kid 
jerk. "I think it's great so far!" 

"If you didn't catch it, I'm not going to re-run it for you," the distressed 
blonde whispered, suddenly acutely aware of the warmth of his hand over 
hers. "Maybe just my imagination, Fargo." 

He did not move his hand. She made no move to withdraw hers. There were no 
more glimpses of her pussy barely shaded by sheer panties. The chatter was 
not, so far as she could judge, objectionable, and her closing song went 
well. All considered, she thought, it was a good taping, although she wished 
her skirt had been a bit longer. It was one of those which was perfect when 
she was on her feet, but as soon as she sat down, it went out of sight. 
Well, if that's what they wanted.... 

Bebe glanced at her watch and realized it was time to get back to the 
kitchen, or the meal would burn. Unwinding her long shapely legs, the 
voluptuous blonde stood-and only as she moved did she realize that in 
concentrating on the videotape, she had unconsciously grasped Fargo's strong 
young hand tight in her own slender fingers. She almost pulled him to the 
floor. Blushing, she forced herself to laugh as he stumbled. 

"See how wrapped up I get in myself!" she said, forcing gaiety. He grinned 
and stood beside her, and for the first time she realized how tall he 
was-how handsome and lean and male. He was almost six feet tall, and through 
the thin fabric of his sports shirt she could see the trembling young 
muscles of his torso. In comparison with his narrow waist, his shoulders 
seemed wide almost out of proportion, yet she could see he was really 
snake-lean. His biceps were long-muscled-Fargo Gonzales would never have his 
picture in any beefsteak magazines. 

Involuntarily, her wide violet eyes dropped to his loins, and she saw the 
long, thick outline of his teenaged cock was still bulging unmistakably. 
This brought mixed sensations to her confused mind. On one hand, as a 
mature, sensuous woman, she was overwhelmingly pleased to know she could 
arouse such a handsome young boy. On the other hand, she was deeply 
distressed when she admitted to herself that she wanted him to feel a sexual 
need for her, even though any such thing was out of the question. 

He was a mere boy, no matter how much of a man's job he did. 

The only thing to do, she told herself, is to play it lightly. Shove your 
arousal into the background, and try to be sort of like Big Sister, you 
know, like casual. He has girls ... he must have more girls than any teenage 
kid would need.... 

"Come on," she said, forcing a lightness in her voice. "I hope you know how 
to make a salad. Everything else is working, but I can't even cut a common 
tomato." 

"Ensalada mixtada," Fargo said, not letting go of her hand as she led the 
way to the kitchen. "I can cook Mexican, Miss Bebe." 

"Just-plain-Bebe!" she corrected. 

On the stove and in the oven the various components of the meal were cooking 
on schedule. She popped a loaf of French bread, split and slathered with 
garlic butter, into the oven. Bebe was amazed at the way the boy set about 
making the salad, and then searching through cabinets to find the proper 
plates and bowls. It was like he had worked in the kitchen for years. The 
thick T-bone steaks went under the broiler and came out in five minutes, 
blood-rare. 

With soft music filling the room, they ate, almost in silence, talking only 
with their eyes. Bebe Randolph felt the mounting pressure, the pure, carnal 
physical need, and she tried to fight it. But the light talk that might have 
diverted her lewd desires escaped her. Fargo Gonzales was so young, so 
slender, so handsome-so beautiful in every way. And his eyes could not stay 
away from her. He could not understand how this was happening, that this 
beautiful Anglo chica would be sending out such vibrations, but his Latin 
blood told him it was happening. Something beyond belief for a chicano boy 
from the East L.A. ghetto. And he knew her, knew her well from having been 
around her for months. This was no hot-pants pig ... this was a lovely woman 
who did not give herself without reason. 

And what reason could she possibly have to give herself to him? 

It was beyond his comprehension. He only knew he had to have her. And as a 
man, not as a boy. 

Never in his life had Fargo Gonzales had such a meal, and in such a 
situation! The most beautiful, most desired woman in America feeding him 
bites of steak which must have cost five dollars a pound! Everything 
prepared by her own hands, except his poor salad. Her deep, huge violet eyes 
melting when they fastened on his face. Dios! 

And springing up to bring coffee and Chantilly cake so light it was like 
feathers in the mouth, and reaching out to touch him. 

Nobody would believe, out along Pico Boulevard. 

The last morsels of steak had been consumed, the last cream-dappled bits of 
cake eaten, and the coffee pot was empty. For a time they sat, side by side 
but not touching except for their hands. Bebe could feel her hand shaking in 
his, and the dampness of his palm. 

She knew what was going to happen, although they had not spoken a word for 
nearly half an hour before Fargo Gonzales cleared his throat. 

"This is a beautiful house," he said. "I would like to see all of it." 

"It's just another house," Bebe managed to say. "But come." 

She led him through it, subconsciously saving her big bedroom for the last. 
He exclaimed over the heavy-beamed Spanish ceilings and the fireplaces and 
paintings and the vastness of the rooms. His entire family lived in an area 
smaller than one of the guest bedrooms, he told her in awe. From the 
terrace, they could see the harbor lights twinkling far below, and the cars 
and trucks speeding past on the Interstate Highway. Bebe's footsteps slowed 
as she showed him to the third level, where her bedroom rose like a tower. 
The lighting was a soft, pale amber. 

"And this is ... the end of the tour," she whispered, not daring to look 
directly at him. She stepped backward until she was at the wide glass doors 
that opened onto the terrace, conscious of what she must look like to him, 
with her long golden hair tumbling over her shoulders, her eyes smoldering 
dark in her face, her body almost naked under the thin micro-sheath that was 
cut off just below the rich curve of her buttocks, with unfettered breasts 
thrusting tantalizing, nipples hard and long. 

Fargo Gonzales looked at her, and he knew now she was his to do anything 
with. She might be a beautiful Anglo, the sex goddess of teenagers, a woman 
with a voice that would make her first million this year. But right now she 
was his! He could do anything he wanted to her! He could tell her to get 
down on her knees and take his hot cock in her hands and pump it and then 
put it in her beautiful mouth and suck on it until he spilled the hot load 
of cum from his aching balls down her throat-and she would do it! 

Why she would do it, he didn't know. But he knew women. He had seen the same 
feral expression on some hundreds of faces-sure, most of them were 
teenagers, but the chicano girls grew up fast, and a woman is a woman and he 
knew Bebe, whom he had worshiped, was no different from all the rest. 

She wanted him to fuck her! 

Well, he would fuck her. He would fuck her until she screamed for him to 
stop! Ram his cock into her pale Anglo flesh until she begged for mercy. 
Make her know what a man was! 

He would drive her wild! And yet, beautiful as she was, kind to him as she 
had been, she had a right to her pleasure. It was something for them to work 
out together ... the better he was for Bebe, the better she would be for 
him. Panting, he felt his palms grow damp in anticipation. He read in her 
eyes the sure knowledge of what was going to happen, and her acceptance of 
it. There was a corner fireplace, and as he watched, she went to it, took a 
match from a holder on the mantle, snapped it into flame and bent to light 
the tinder under logs which were ready. 

As she bent over the fireplace, her short skirt rode up the smooth-fleshed 
columns of her thighs, baring the soft roundness of her taut buttocks. He 
could see the tight-clenching division of her ass-cheeks, and even the tufts 
of pale hair fringing her cunt through the sheer panties she wore. The 
flames leapt to life and an orange glow filled the big bedroom as she slowly 
straightened and turned toward him. She stood motionless, except for the 
rhythmic rise and fall of her full-sculpted breasts, with the hard, sharp 
points of the nipples pressing against the thin material of her dress. Her 
full sensuous lips glistened and her tongue-tip flicked nervously across 
them. 

Damn! She knows she's gonna get it! the Chicago boy exulted. 

Oh, Bebe, are you gonna get it! All the cock I can ram up that tight little 
cunt! I'm gonna fuck you out of your head! 

Inside his tight pants, his penis was throbbing with need, and a hunger so 
great that it pained him. He had to get it into her! Skewer her, impale her 
on his long hardness turn her on! He wondered if she'd ever been really 
turned on by fucking, and with his instinct thought probably not-because 
Bebe didn't fuck around. In his job, he knew what was going down anyplace, 
any time, and he knew Bebe didn't spread it around. Not that she could ever 
be cherry hell, she was almost thirty-but nobody was regularly banging her, 
of that he was sure. Fargo had the idea that maybe something had happened 
with Skye earlier in the day, the way Skye had gone hauling ass, and Bebe 
had seemed like her head was fucked up when she left the studio, but on the 
other hand, that could have been due to a lot of other things. 

Whatever happened, she needed a fuck now. 

The violet-hued dress was fashioned of raw silk from Hong Kong. It was held 
together down the front by not buttons or zipper but studs, similiar to a 
man's cufflinks, fashioned from the finest Mallorcan pearls set in 
platinum-another touch decreed by Matt Matthews at the agency. 

Bebe Randolph watched the olive-skinned boy move sinuously toward her. His 
dark eyes captivated her, as the eyes of a snake might freeze a bird. She 
could feel her heart pounding. She saw the rigid, long outline of his penis 
straining against the front of his pants, the dark spot of pre-seminal 
fluid, and the thick bulge of his testicles cramped into the fabric. She 
wanted to cry out, to run away-and she could not move. She knew that this 
virile young Latino could do anything he wanted with her or to her, and she 
would be helpless to resist. 

Surrendering, she dropped her eyes and stood immobile as she felt his 
fingers deftly opening the pearl buttons, peeling the deep cleavage of her 
dress away from her ripely thrusting breasts, and his warm, soft fingers 
reaching into the tap to squeeze and capture her rapidly-lengthening 
nipples. She gasped at his touch and involuntarily swayed toward him, so 
that her loins met his, and she moaned in abject acceptance of whatever the 
youth wanted to do to her-or whatever he wanted to do to him. 

She thought for a moment of how close she had come to taking Skye Brent's 
penis into her mouth just hours before. 

Bebe knew that if this boy told her to kneel and suck him, she would do it. 

She would do anything ... she could not help herself. 

Trembling like a frightened fawn, she felt his hands moving over her 
feverishly-aroused flesh, pinching lightly, tweaking her nipples. And she 
could only moan in barely-restrained passion. She moved to put her arms 
around him and he pushed her away, and then began again, bending to kiss her 
breasts even as his fingers slid down the smooth column of her back and 
between her tight-clenched ass-cheeks, circling the tight-puckered rose of 
her anus as she jerked involuntarily toward him, grinding her wetly burning 
pussy up to the hot hard shaft of his cock. 

Then he lifted his mouth from her breast and stepped back. With no waste 
motion, he stripped the short dress from her, letting it fall to the 
richly-carpeted floor around her booted feet. She stood, trembling, before 
his wild, lewd gaze, clad only in the nearly-transparent panties. 

Fargo Gonzales groaned as he dropped to his knees in front of her, his 
strong young fingers clutching at the thin elastic band which circled her 
hips. In an instant, they were peeled down the golden columns of her shapely 
legs to her ankles, and Bebe had to either step out of them or trip. 

His wiry arms encircled her hips, pulling her wildly quivering pussy to his 
mouth even as his tongue snaked out to find her soft, hair-fringed vaginal 
furrow and delve deep inside it. She felt his wet young lips close on her 
eagerly pulsing cunt and suck for a moment, and then he drew back, his long, 
curling dark hair tossing. His deep brown, liquid eyes flashing, he 
struggled to his feet and jerked at his heavy belt. 

"Take my prick out!" he ordered. 

Bebe paused for a second. It was not too late to prevent this, she thought, 
but even as she mentally said it, her body was moving forward of its own 
volition! 

 CHAPTER THREE 

Fingers shaking, unable to look into his warm glowing eyes, Bebe slowly 
reached out and found the tab of his zipper. Willing herself to act, she 
jerked it downward, opening his fly. She reached into the gap and, with a 
gasp, realized he wasn't wearing shorts! The long hard length of his hot 
naked cock met her groping hand, and it fairly leapt out, standing sharply 
upright. 

"Ooooohhh!!!" the aroused woman whispered, as instinctively her hand closed 
tight around the fleshy staff and began to pump it slowly. She looked down 
then and saw the fleshy foreskin rolling back and forth over the moist, 
plum-colored head. She had never handled a male wantonly like this before. 
Without being told, she used her free hand to unsnap his belt buckle. His 
jeans slithered down the olive-hued columns of his legs to bunch around his 
ankles. He kicked his boots off and then stepped out of his pants even as he 
pulled his shirt over his head and stood completely naked before her. 

Should I make her go down on her knees? Fargo wondered. He was sure she 
would do it at his command-yet, something told him he would be pushing too 
far too fast-that he should bring her along slowly. Why screw up a lot of 
future fucking, to say nothing of what Bebe could do for him 
professionally-for a quick blow job? 

For Chicano kids, a chance like this came once in a lifetime. He would be a 
damn fool to fuck it up, he knew. If he took it slow and easy, she would do 
it of her own accord, out of raging need to have him every way possible. In 
addition to which, Fargo liked Bebe, as much as he could like any woman. She 
had been decent to him. Now he pulled her to him, his deft fingers sliding 
up the damp, hot inner flesh of her fluttering thighs until they insinuated 
themselves into the softly curling blonde hairs of her pussy and slowly 
opened the flowering outer lips of her cunt. He heard her groan and felt her 
entire body begin to undulate in a lewd hunger against his probing hand. Her 
arms went around him and her sharp nails cut into the hard-muscled flesh of 
his lean back painfully. He moved his pelvis and forced the long hard length 
of his penis between her legs, rubbing it the full length of her wetly 
throbbing cuntal furrow. 

Bebe Randolph buried her beautiful, passion-contorted face in the hollow of 
the young boy's neck and shoulder as she rocked her love-starved pussy back 
and forth over the hot spike of his manhood. This was so different than 
anything ever before! She knew Fargo was barely half her age, and that, 
while he thought he was seducing her. it was really the other way around. 
The surge of guilt which swept through her was nowhere near as powerful as 
her own needs. She did not care what happened, she had to have his virilely 
heated penis buried in her yearning loins. She sawed her pussy wildly back 
and forth on his rigidity and then, gasping, pulled away. 

"The bed!" Bebe mumbled. "On the bed!" 

Fargo Gonzales didn't hesitate. He pushed her backwards and Bebe fell across 
the big bed, her long, golden legs opening in obscure invitation, and she 
felt his lean, hard body coming down on top of her, pinning her writhing 
frame to the quilted coverlet. She fumbled and found the iron-hard length of 
his penis again and tried immediately to guide it into the hotly aroused 
slit up between her legs. She needed to be filled NOW! 

"Oooooohh ... Oooooohhhhhh!" the aroused idol of millions of teenagers cried 
out urgently. "Get in! Get it in me!" 

"Manana," Fargo said with a mocking chuckle, watching her writhe and thrash, 
humping her beautiful golden-haired pussy up toward the tip of his cock. The 
soft blonde curls that fringed her excited cunt scraped across his sensitive 
cock-head, sending thrill after thrill rippling through his abdomen. "Bebe, 
you are worth much more than a fast fuck." 

Supporting his weight on his lean left arm, he moved over her. With his 
right hand, he brushed the burning hot rubbery head of his lust-swollen 
penis up and down the full length of her cuntal slit, parting the aroused 
outer lips with agonizing slowness. Then, as her wetly throbbing flesh 
flowered open, he moved a fraction of an inch closer, so the head of his 
thick rod of flesh was dipping into the heated secretions seeping from her 
cunt, and Bebe was hungrily twisting and thrashing and making little mewling 
sounds of unabated desire. Her clutching fingers reached for his rampant 
manhood, but again he pulled back, listening to the beautiful blonde 
recording star groan in frustration. 

"You're torturing me!" she cried out, rolling her head, so the long, pale 
hair sprayed over the pillows. "Get it in!" 

Instead, he continued to tease her with the dark-reddish tip of his cock, 
rubbing it over the sensitive upthrust bud of her clitoris, then down the 
eagerly gaping slit and even into the crack of her wide-splayed ass-cheeks 
to press tantalizingly against the tight rubbery circle of her tiny anus, 
bringing a new gasp of sensation from the shamelessly aroused singer. 

Bebe's lust-filled eyes glazed at the sensations. She thought she would go 
mad if this boy didn't stop teasing her. 

"You want it now?" he whispered. 

"Oh, yes ... YES!" the blonde cried out. 

"What do you want?" he taunted. 

"I want you in me, damn you!" 

"Say what you really want!" 

"What else can I say?" Bebe groaned, grabbing at his loins. 

"Tell me you want me to fuck you." 

"I don't want to say that word," she gasped. 

"Say it, Bebe! Tell me you want to be fucked!" he pulled back so there was 
no more contact between his penis and her cunt. From the tortured expression 
on her lovely face, he knew she was suffering ... but he was sure he would 
be better for her if she would break down completely, surrender her mind as 
well as her urgently demanding voluptuous body. He sensed the straining 
woman had never cum in her life and it was up to him to bring her that 
ecstasy. Young as he was, he knew women's bodies. And this one was ready to 
be a love-slave! "Tell me what you want!", Bebe panted in unfulfilled 
passion. She could not look up at the teenager's handsome face, and she 
tried to close her own ears to the words her mouth was about to speak. 

"Fuck me," she whispered thickly. "Oh, for God's sake, fuck me ... NOW!!!" 

Her limber body jerked upward, her quivering pussy lips trying to find his 
pulsating lust-hard cock-head again. Her hand caught its long hard length 
and pulled it down to the tight little mouth of her cunt, and this time the 
youth did not hold back as she guided it to the entrance to her deep, 
juice-flowing vaginal passage. 

"Aaaaaahhhhh!!!" Bebe whispered as she felt the blood swollen head pushing 
against its yearning target and her soft moist flesh parting eagerly to 
welcome it. His hips twitched as he positioned himself over her lewdly split 
loins, and she pulled her smoothly rounded knees up, exposing the sweating 
plane of her genitals for his impalement. She could feel the urgent throb of 
his heartbeat through his pulsing penis, and she trembled in anticipation. 
His cock was like a burning-hot poker in her fingers. Instinctively, she 
pulled the loose foreskin far back on the shaft. "Now!" she pleaded. "NOW!" 

With a powerful surge of his lean back muscles, the handsome boy thrust up 
into her wetly waiting cunt in one long, smooth, flesh-splitting stroke, and 
his sperm-laden balls slapped hard against the wide-stretched half-moons of 
her nakedly straining buttocks. Bebe reacted like she had touched a 
high-voltage wire. Her tense body erupted wildly, and her long legs flew out 
to either side and wrapped convulsively around his lunging body even as her 
sharp fingernails raked his back cruelly in passion drawing parallel lines 
of bright red blood. She heard him cry out in sudden pain, and then felt his 
animal strength as he rammed his hotly throbbing penis even deeper into her, 
punishing her yielding flesh. 

And something happened which she could not believe! 

With his tumultuous penetration, his savage splitting of her defenseless 
loins in one stroke, Fargo Gonzales set off a firebomb deep in her vitals. 
It was like nothing she had ever experienced-a sudden tidal wave of burning 
sensation that swept through her quivering belly, upward to fill the 
jiggling mounds of her firm, wide-set breasts and downward to turn her 
clamping thighs to jelly and make her very toes curl. 

"My God!" Bebe screamed in disbelief and wonder at the top of her lungs. 
"I'm cumming ... I'm cummmiinnggg RIGHT NOW!!!" 

She was totally overwhelmed, both physically and emotionally. Wave after 
wave of tumultuous sensation swept through her straining woman's body as she 
finally experienced the thing she had sought so futilely with other, older, 
more experienced partners in the past. She jerked and bucked in complete 
abandonment, and her heels drummed on his back and then on his heaving 
tight-muscled buttocks as she tried to draw his beautiful cock deeper and 
deeper into the hotly clutching well of her newly found womanhood. A jumble 
of thoughts kaleidoscoped through her stunned brain as she felt his long 
reaming cock skewering her wildly convulsing pussy and his heavy testicles, 
swollen with hot sperm, pounding against her lewdly jiggling ass-cheeks. 

It just couldn't be-yet it was! She had cum with his first stroke and now 
she felt her cuntal reflexes building up their electrical charges for it to 
happen again. 

"Oohhhhhh ... aaaaahhhh ... ummmmmm ... YES!" the aroused blonde chanted in 
near-delirium as she felt the boy's virile young penis fucking up into her 
belly with deep, burrowing strokes, pushing great waves of her delicate 
cuntal flesh ahead of its lust-swollen tip. She felt the wetness of their 
pubic hair matting together with each plunge, soaked by her woman-juices. 
And, with every punishing thrust of the fleshy piston, Fargo was grinding 
the base of his cock hard against her tingling clitoris, and each contact 
made her cum even harder, until she was sure she would go out of her mind. 
"Fuck me, oh, my darling, fuck meeee!!!" 

Her sensuous lips peeled back over her fine white teeth, and her words were 
fuzzy with passion and the all-pervading ecstasy she was feeling. 

Her fragmented mind could not understand it-how, by merely entering her 
body, this teenage boy could have set her off. The fact that Skye Brent had 
fucked her only a few hours before could not be responsible-if anything, 
that episode had turned her off because of the shattering discovery that he 
was on hard dope. By association, that fact alone should have made her 
irresponsive ... yet she was going wild under this handsome 
insatiably-fucking young boy! 

Fargo could hardly believe it himself. He had never had a woman respond so, 
and particularly an Anglo. They were cold fish compared to the Latinos and 
the bloods he was used to fucking. He looked down between her long smooth 
legs and saw the wetly glistening shaft of his penis surging in and out of 
her hair-lined, pink cuntal opening. He felt the blood run from his 
raw-scraped back and stain the expensive coverlet and their lewdly entwined 
bodies. With any other woman, he would have hit her hard across the mouth 
for marking him that way, but this he took as a tribute to his own machismo. 
He cupped his hands over the firm upthrust mounds of her milk-white breasts, 
squeezing, rolling the distended nipples between his fingers and watching 
the way her beautiful violet eyes rolled back in her head as the continuing 
orgasm racked her body. 

Damn, I might fuck her to death.' he thought, slowing the jack-hammer 
pistoning of his long virile cock into her tightly clasping pussy. But Bebe 
only cried out and began to screw her tight little cunt more and more 
violently up and down the rampaging shaft of his manhood, and he felt her 
fingers reach between their straining bodies to urgently close around his 
balls, squeezing so hard it hurt. Even as she thrashed beyond control up to 
his loins, he suddenly pulled back, jerking his eagerly pulsing cock from 
the tight ensheathing flesh of her cunt with a wet, squishing sound. 

"Noooooo!!!" the aroused folk-rock star cried. 

"Roll over-get on your hands and knees!" Fargo panted. 

Her mind spinning, her entire naked body on fire and quaking in the fury of 
her sustained cumming, Bebe rolled over, not knowing what to expect next, 
but willing to do anything Fargo wanted, just so long as he would keep his 
thick beautiful cock in her. She felt his sweating hands positioning her, 
holding her hips, spreading her quivering ass-cheeks wide, and then his legs 
were forcing her thighs wide apart as he pushed her down until the sensitive 
tips of her jiggling breasts were flat on the bed. 

"Now-put it in again!" he ordered, panting. 

Bebe, her face contorted, her long mane of now-tousled pale hair flowing 
over the bed, looked down through the swaying valley of her inverted 
breasts. She could see the excited juices dripping from her pussy, feel them 
running down the insides of her smooth-fleshed thighs. And she could see his 
long hard cock throbbing between her widespread legs. Moaning, she reached 
down past her belly, grabbed the slippery shaft that was so hard and hot and 
guided it between the ragged flanges of her passion-thickened pussy lips. 

Fargo lunged forward, his pulsating hardness slipped in ... in .. in, and 
Bebe cried out, "Eeeeyy yaaassss!!!" 

The naked recording star knew he couldn't be any deeper in her straining 
body than he had been before, yet, in this position, it seemed like his 
virile pole of flesh was boring right into the depths of her trembling 
belly, inches further than anyone had ever been. She felt his cum-filled 
balls grinding against her clitoris as she lewdly swayed the milky-white 
half moons of her buttocks up at him and humped back with a wanton 
eagerness. 

"Oh God, it's big!" she gasped, churning her loins back, trying to absorb 
every centimeter of his rampant maleness. "Oooooooohhhhhhh ... 
Faaaaarrrrrgggggooooo ... FU-FUUUCCCCKK MEEEEE!!!" 

Furiously, he began to screw in and out of her wetly seething pussy, 
watching her soft pink cuntal flesh wrap itself around his thick pistoning 
shaft like a tight, wet glove. He saw the straining of her back muscles as 
she fucked furiously, trying to absorb every bit of him. All the while, the 
blonde older woman was moaning and crying out, actually screaming. He had 
never known a female could cum like this! Certainly not this blonde goddess 
whom he knew full well just did not fuck around! 

Damn, what a piece of ass! Although he was not short of sexual experience, 
Fargo had never in his wildest dreams imagined he could turn a woman on this 
way-particularly one like Bebe. He wondered if he was really the cause, or 
if he had just happened to hit her at the right time? Whatever it was, he 
wouldn't question his good fortune. After he took care of her like this, she 
would come crawling and begging to him. She would buy him presents and see 
that he got the breaks he was looking for in showbiz. She would give him 
money and she would give him her body any time he wanted it. 

After this, she would be his total slave. 

Even as he fucked wildly into her wildly thrashing body, Fargo was planning 
his future moves with a shrewdness that comes only to those who have been 
forced to take advantage of every little thing that looked like an 
opportunity in order to survive. 

He told himself he knew women. He was sure that, once the wild fire in her 
loins had been quenched, Bebe Randolph would be overcome with remorse of the 
deepest kind. Because he was just a kid and she was a mature woman, if for 
no other reason. She would make some futile effort to see this never 
happened again. 

Small damn chance. She would be screaming for his cock like a wounded eagle, 
and she must be made to beg for it any way he'd let her have it. Now she was 
twisting her head, facing back to him with her full, sensuous lips heavy 
with passion, her tongue wetting them, making them glisten. 

Next time, baby, it goes in your pretty mouth, Fargo said to himself as he 
fucked wildly into her tight steaming cunt. You're gonna drink my cum ... 
gallons of it!" 

"Aaaaaahhhh aaahhhhhh ... uuuuuggghhh!!!" the passion-wracked blonde chanted 
in near delirium, as the hot pole of flesh continued to spear in and out of 
her ecstatically convulsing cunt. She was on the verge of exhaustion, and 
yet looking back and up at her laboring teenage lover, she saw he was fresh 
as ever, even though his dark, curling hair was tumbled down over his 
forehead. The successive overwhelming waves of her orgasm almost entirely 
drained her sweating body of the physical ability to respond, and now she 
was being pummeled mercilessly by his virile young cock. She gasped and 
pleaded, "Cum, Fargo! For God's sake, cum before you kill me!" 

Before I kill both of us, the striving youth amended silently. His back felt 
like it was going to break, and the limber muscles of his legs ached from 
the frantic lunges into her wetly yielding flesh. His sperm-bloated balls 
felt as if they would burst at any minute if he didn't empty their steaming 
load into her hot little cunt. Grasping her swiveling hips, Fargo rammed 
himself in wild violence into the heated well of her pussy and felt his cock 
begin to swell, get even more rigid and longer. 

And then the great molten flood was triggered by a fresh wave of shudders 
which shook the straining girl as her shoulders dropped to the bed and her 
madly rotating ass-cheeks were thrust toward the ceiling helplessly. 

"I'm cumming, Bebe!" he cried out, his lips peeling tight back over his 
strong white teeth, his face contorted in a grimace. "Fuck back! Fuck up on 
me!" 

With her last remaining strength, the ravished blonde singer tried to 
comply. She felt the incredibly deep boring of his penis into her sorely 
stretched cunt, and then the hardening and swelling of his manhood. 

She knew he could be only seconds away from climax, and she somehow found 
the strength and muscular coordination to match the moment. In the depths of 
her belly, she could feel the bulbous, rubbery head grow to immense size as 
it battered without let-up against the mouth of her cervix. Urgently, she 
reached a hand back again between her wide-splayed thighs and captured his 
heavy balls, squeezing them, feeling them as they drew up to his wildly 
fucking abdomen. She moaned as she felt the first searing-hot eruption of 
his thick cum in her vitals. Squirting wildly like a fire hose, his penis 
exploded in the steaming depths of her cunt, his semen mixing with her own 
viscid cumming. She thought his fresh young sperm would never stop flooding 
her palpitating cunt, and she could hear the squishing sounds as it spewed 
along the length of her vaginal channel and his deeply embedded shaft to 
ooze through the lust-swollen flanges of her pussy and trickle down over his 
balls and then the quivering insides of their tightly-pressed thighs to 
finally puddle thickly on the expensive coverlet, staining it forever. 

Thoroughly depleted, and even more thoroughly fulfilled than she had ever 
thought possible, Bebe fell forward, and his weight came down on top of her 
nakedly trembling body. 

Their hearts beat wildly as passion subsided, and their mingled perspiration 
soaked the bed even more. The beautiful recording star lay unmoving, feeling 
her teenage lover's still-jerking penis gradually soften in the warm sheath 
of her cunt until there was no more to feel. He lifted his weight and rolled 
off her, his lips wetly kissing the sweat-slick column of her back. 

Fargo sensed he had to do something to make her feel it was all right, to 
ease the guilt he was sure would soon overcome the ravishing blonde. He 
turned her on her side, pulling her to him and his skilled young fingers 
stroked her still-quaking hot flesh. 

"You are so beautiful, my Bebe," he murmured, lightly kissing around her 
lax, lust-swollen mouth. "So good for me." 

It wasn't at all hard to say. The words were certainly the truth. He'd never 
had such a wild fuck in his life! 

"Oh Fargo ... Fargo...." Bebe whispered back, drawing his mouth down to 
hers, parting her lips for his tongue, drawing it deep into her wanting 
mouth. Mixed emotions surged through her satiated body. She knew it had been 
wrong, letting this happen, encouraging it, actually seducing the teenage 
body. She told herself it must never happen again-and she knew in her heart 
that it would have to happen again. And again. And again! He had given her 
something no mature man ever came close to duplicating. She sighed, "Fargo 
... darling...." 

Even as she sighed out her contentment and utter completions, Bebe Randolph, 
in another compartment of her mind, was assessing the irreparable damage she 
had done to herself. 

Her years of struggling in the showbiz jungle had not left her naive. She 
was sure Fargo felt something for her as a person, as a desirable and 
passionate woman. But he had so little himself, and such big dreams, and 
Bebe knew she was the perfect vehicle through which to make those dreams 
materialize. She'd had her unforgettable moment of ecstasy, of awakening as 
a woman. But what would the price be when the final bill was presented? She 
shuddered to think, as recollections of other performers who had found 
themselves in similar situations sped through her confused mind. 

Fargo would be in an excellent position to blackmail her. Not demand money, 
but help in his still-distant career. 

Already she was his love-slave. She knew she would have to have him 
countless times. Of course, she would willingly give him money in any 
reasonable amount. See that he had decent clothes and even a car. But would 
he be satisfied with that? Or would he want to advance himself by openly 
flaunting the fact that he was her lover-her stud! Bebe thought of several 
other stars she knew who openly carried on affairs with boys almost young 
enough to be their sons, even brought them on stage or into TV studios for 
appearances. While it didn't seem to hurt their careers-maybe even helped 
them, with all the mentions in the gossip columns-she could never envision 
herself in such a situation. Suddenly, betrayed by her own love-starved 
body, and, with the spectre of her religious upbringing arising anew in her 
mind, Bebe was miserable, even as her vibrant body fairly glowed in the 
embrace of her young Latin lover. 

As though sensing her discomfiture, Fargo Gonzales shifted a bit lower in 
the bed until he could cup her lushly ripened breasts and, with skilled 
tongue and lips, kiss and lick them lingeringly. Bebe knew he would not be 
returning to the ghetto this night. His mouth on the resilient mounds of her 
breasts was comforting. She could not have endured another minute of sex, 
but she could not stand to be alone-not now! 

"Let's get under the covers," Bebe whispered, her long, sleek body moving 
against his young, virile maleness. "We've got a lot to sleep on." 

They slid between the rich, soft sheets, in the room that was musky-scented 
with their spent passion and their naked bodies entwined. Despite her fears 
and the terrible load on her mind, Bebe drifted off to sleep within seconds, 
smiling. 

* * * 

Early in the morning she half-awakened as the boy eased himself from the big 
bed and the warmth of her tightly-clinging arms and used the bathroom. When 
he returned, Bebe saw he was nearly erect again, and tried to avert her eyes 
in a futile attempt to quell the fresh surge of desire. Bright sun streamed 
through gossamer drapes over the window overlooking a flagstoned patio that 
was lush with Southern California vegetation. Fargo lay beside her and 
casually slid his hand up between her parted thighs, his fingers dancing 
over the soft warm lips of her cuntal furrow. 

"We've got to talk," Bebe said finally, trying not to undulate her pelvis 
against his probing hand. "You know...." 

"Sure, Bebe." He knew very well. He had lain awake for a long time thinking 
of all the possibilities. "I know what you're thinking ... I'm just a kid." 

"You're a lot more than a kid," she said in a dreamy remembering as she 
reached for his virile young cock and fondled it. "You know what you did for 
me ... like no one has ever done before. And I'm not fool enough to deny 
it." 

"I have never had such a woman," he said, grinning in the memory. "I hope 
you will not send me away now." 

"Knock off the sweet talk," she said, pulling away from him to kneel on the 
edge of the bed, yet not releasing his now rock-hard penis. Her fingers 
toyed with the thick foreskin, drawing it tightly down the length of his 
tumescent staff until the purplish head filled with blood. Her other hand 
crept in between his legs and her fingernails lightly scraped the lightly 
-haired scrotum that was filling with sweet semen again. He moved to pull 
her on top of him, but she drew back, removing his hand from her trembling 
body. "Fargo ... we have to say certain things ... get our heads screwed on 
right." She tossed her head and the wheat-pale hair showered over her tanned 
shoulders. "What we did was wrong. Not for you, but for me. We both know it. 
No matter how ... how beautiful. I used you. I needed you desperately ... 
and you aren't a dumb Mex kid. You know how much I needed you." 

"I could love you, Bebe," he said, dark eyes melting. True enough-he could. 
No female had ever given him so much, or promised so much. "If you want it." 

"I-I don't know. It was all so quick," the confused blonde singer whispered 
even as her hand unconsciously stroked the length of his hot rigid penis. "I 
think I should tell you why it happened ... why I was so sluttish." 

"You could never be a slut," the boy said gallantly. 

"Oh, wasn't I?" Bebe retorted, almost bitterly. Then, composing herself, she 
told him about Skye Brent. It took a long time to find the words. 

With no attempt to spare herself, she recited what had happened with Skye 
... her surrender, his failure to satisfy her, his urging that she fellate 
him and how she had almost succumbed, stopping only when she discovered his 
narcotics addiction. 

"Would you have sucked him?" Fargo asked. Looking away from his searching 
gaze, Bebe Randolph said in a whisper, "I would have ... I was so close to 
cumming ... but I know it would never have been like it was with us." 

"With us, everything was right," he agreed. "Oh, yesssss...." Bebe sighed, 
slumping forward so her soft cheek lay against his hard-muscled young belly. 
In her delicate hand, his iron-hard maleness throbbed, and she could see a 
pearly drop of pre-seminal fluid oozing from the slit at the end of the 
mushroom-shaped head. It was so beautiful, this magnificent male organ which 
had given her so much pleasure! "You know how right it was, Fargo." 

"I want your mouth," he said softly, undulating his hips in a universal 
pleading, stroking the soft mass of her hair. "Your soft mouth." 

He heard her sigh, almost moan, and knew he had brought her to the next 
step. He reached down to stroke her sensually naked body and cupped her 
ripened breast, lightly pinching the rising nipple. Slowly she raised her 
head and turned to look directly into the dark pools of his eyes. For a long 
moment she was immobile and then she moved to kneel above him, slowly 
pumping his cock, making the whitish drop grow. The pink tip of her tongue 
slid over her parted lips, wetting them. 

I can't, Bebe thought to herself. It's unnatural. I just can't do it. But I 
want to! Beneath her, his limber young body moved until her entire vision 
was filled with the deep-reddish roundness of his cock-head, swelling as her 
urgent fingers clenched tightly around the tree-like staff that ended in a 
curling dark mass of pubic hair, with his heavy balls below. She looked up 
into his eyes and realized how much he wanted her to do this. Sighing, she 
brushed her hair back from her face and bent over his loins. Only a fraction 
of an inch separated the soft wetness of her full parted lips from the 
rubbery round tip of his cock. She could feel the heat of his loins, and she 
steeled herself. 

And then she lifted her head, mumbling, "Darling, I can't!" 

"Touch me with the tip of her tongue," the boy said in a soft, compelling 
voice as his fingers deftly cupped her face and drew her head downward. 
"Just kiss for a minute." 

Moaning, the pale-haired singer allowed her head to be guided until her 
flaring lips came in light contact with his heatedly pulsing cock-head. Of 
its own volition, her tongue seemed to spear out and lick at the salty-sweet 
droplet of moisture. The taste was electrifying! Spearing her tongue into 
the tiny hole, she sought more. And then without realizing what she was 
doing, the flat of her tongue was swirling around the soft, resilient warmth 
of his cock-head, licking furiously at the ridge of the glans. 

"Now lick down and up the underside," he hissed. 

In blind obedience, she took his throbbing young penis in her hand like an 
ear of corn and began to lick and nibble up and down its length, the tip of 
her tongue fluttering. It was as if she had done this many times before. She 
could smell the rich man-scent of his genitals, and impulsively she covered 
his sperm-filled balls with kisses, sucking first one and then the other 
into her mouth. She shifted on the bed, straddling his right leg until she 
felt his hard thigh muscle rubbing gloriously on the sensitive outer lips of 
her pussy. His long hard cock was glistening now with her saliva as Bebe 
moved her mouth upward a final time and then poised with her sensuously 
ovaled lips touching the tip. She looked up at him with her deep violet eyes 
and then felt his hands tangling in her mass of blonde hair, holding her 
head immobile as he slowly thrust his loins upward. 

At the last instant she tried to compress her lips, close her jaws, but the 
pressure was relentless, and she yielded, letting her mouth fall open in 
warm invitation. She felt the huge intrusion of his mushroom-shaped 
cock-head pressing in, making contact with her tongue, unnaturally massive 
in her saliva-filled mouth. Steadily his hands were pushing her head down, 
lower and lower toward his curly triangle of pubic hair. She gulped and her 
nostrils flared as she fought for breath. She could see the thick, hot staff 
slowly disappearing into her gaping mouth, feel the rigid warmth of it going 
in and in and in, until the smooth head pressed the back of her mouth, 
almost making her choke. And then deeper, all the way into her straining 
throat until she had absorbed all of his pulsating thickness. 

"Ohhhh, you've got a beautiful soft mouth," Fargo whispered, jerking his 
pelvis upward. "Keep your lips over your teeth and work your tongue around 
me." 

"Ummmmmm...." Bebe moaned, trying to obey. She gulped for air. It felt as if 
her jaws were stretched to the breaking point, her inexperienced mouth was 
so filled. Beneath her, Fargo began to slowly raise and lower his hips, and 
his urgent fucking rhythm told her what she must do. With her tongue 
swirling along the underside of his hotly pulsating cock, she began to 
steadily bob her head up and down. She found this was better. She could gulp 
for air on the outstroke, as she drew her tightly ovaled lips upward until 
only his bulbous cock-head remained between them. Her cheeks hollowed and 
ballooned alternately as the thick rod of male flesh slid in and out of her 
devouring mouth. She began to suck, lightly at first, and then with more 
intensity as she was caught up in the carnal excitement of the act which was 
so new and suddenly exciting to her. Holding the base of Fargo's penis with 
thumb and forefinger, she began to expertly aim the throbbing staff so that 
it slid deeper and deeper into her throat, and she began to moan around it 
in a rising excitement as the vision of the lewd spectacle she must present 
filled her mind. Her fingers teased his swelling testicles, and she knew 
that in time they would erupt in her mouth-and she wanted them to! In her 
belly, she felt her own awakening, and wondered if she could cum herself 
while she was sucking him! 

"Eat me, Bebe," the boy gasped. "Suck me dry!" 

The now-insatiable blonde singer needed no urging. She moaned and twisted 
her hungrily sucking mouth around his virile shaft of hard flesh, and was 
carried away to the point where she bit down hard enough to make Fargo cry 
out and grab her head, stilling its wild up-and-down motion until she was in 
control of her passion again. She tossed her head from side to side as her 
lust-contorted lips slurped wetly up and down, trying to get his penis 
deeper and deeper into her spasming throat. From a great distance, she heard 
Fargo moaning and sensed he was on the verge of cumming even before his 
pistoning cock thickened and swelled so she could barely encircle it with 
her tightly-clasping lips. She felt him buck furiously up toward her diving 
face as her hair sprayed wildly over his jerking loins. And then his hands 
were holding her head tight while he fucked without mercy into her soft 
rounded lips. 

The first hot spurt of cum almost choked the blonde singer as it gushed 
against the roof of her mouth and then down over her tonsils even as his 
wildly jerking plowed deep into her throat. Her cheeks hollowed and bloated 
as she tried to swallow fast enough to keep up with his cumming. She had 
never realized there could be so much! Despite her eagerness to devour him, 
thick strings of whittish sperm escaped the corners of her widely-distended 
mouth, trailing down into his dark pubic hair. The life-creating fluid 
burned her throat, salty and pungent yet she was relentless in her sucking. 
Voraciously her lips kept at the spurting cock until finally there was no 
more an; it softened under the passionate lashing of her tongue. Sighing she 
collapsed, exhausted over his sweating, depleted loins, her fingers still 
rolling his spent balls while the pink tip of her searching tongue found the 
last droplets of cum in the curly forest of his pubic hair and avidly 
consumed them. Her mouth was full of the rich flavor of his semen, her 
passion-swollen lips glistening with it, when she slowly raised her flushed 
face. 

Fargo Gonzales drew her up to him and kissed her full on the mouth, tasting 
himself on her spearing tongue as she moaned and pressed her nakedly 
trembling body against his. Damn, he told himself, this sweet bitch really 
turns on all different ways ... have I got me something to play with! 

Sighing with pleasure, Bebe lay in the handsome teenaged boy's arms. She 
knew she should be feeling overwhelming shame and remorse. Yet she felt 
beautiful, completed, with none of the regrets of the night before when she 
had wantonly yielded all her scruples and simply fucked like a slut. 

Well, I'm a cocksucker now, Bebe ruminated. And I love it! 

Deep in her still-churning belly, she could feel the thick hot pool of 
Fargo's cum. She knew she was totally lost now. He had her, irrevocably. She 
could only hope he would be good to her, return her love. If he ever left 
her ... she'd shrivel up and die! 

* * * 

Lost in their lewd thrashings on the big bed, neither Bebe nor Fargo had 
heard the motorcycle wheel into the grounds. This was a thing easily 
explained, beyond their passion, as it was one of the big 750 cc BMW bikes 
with gear drive. It could cruise all day at over a hundred miles an hour 
with virtually no sound except the whistling of the wind around it and its 
rider. 

The bike was the personal property of Dalt Edwards, the Highway Patrol 
sergeant who, with his partner, had flagged Bebe down the night before. He 
had purposely not pursed her only-too-obvious invitation because of his 
riding partner, Bailey. Bailey would steal a fuck from a corpse. This was 
Dalt Edwards' day off, and he had thoughts of collecting for the speeding 
ticket he hadn't written when he should have thrown the whole citation book 
at the chick. The fact she had been doing well over 110 didn't bother 
him-she had obviously been in control of the hot Citroen, and he had driven 
it himself, so knew it was good. But seeing her make knots like that could 
lead some clown in a Buick to try keeping up, and there'd be blood on the 
highway. And hadn't the kooky cunt even jumped on his own Harley and taken 
off after them? Shit, if the captain ever heard of that caper, he'd be 
riding a mule in Big Sur! 

Definitely, this hot-ass blonde owed him a fuck, and on this day Dalt 
Edwards had plenty of time to collect. He was not in uniform. He wore a 
suede leather jacket, faded jeans and cycle boots, plus an Aussie hat with 
brim turned up on one side, but he had not left all of the cop at home. He 
carried a stubby .38, as regulations required, and he always thought like a 
cop, meaning he looked around to see what was to be seen at all times. 

Immediately he saw the wagon parked beside the Citroen, and muttered, "Girl 
has company." 

With the grace of a hunting cat, he made a circuit of the big house. The 
bedroom was in the far corner on the upper level-at the height of the small 
hill. The thin mesh drapes concealed nothing of what was going on. He saw 
the voluptuous blonde-naked and even sexier than he had remembered-stroking 
a kid's cock. As he watched, he saw her bend over it and slowly take the 
boy's penis up into her mouth and begin to suck. The scene went on and on 
and on, until finally it peaked and thick strings of cum were drooling from 
between her gulping lips. 

"I will be goddamned!" the sergeant whispered, moving to ease the pressure 
of his hardened cock in his pants. "A kid ... a damn Chicano kid! Well, baby 
we'll be back!" 

 CHAPTER FOUR 

As she lay in the boy's embrace, feeling his lithe, almost-hairless body 
pressed to hers, Bebe Randolph was glad the taping had been finished the day 
before. She was sure that, after what she'd been through and discovered 
about herself, she would have neither voice nor timing. As it happened, 
there was nothing on the schedule before the start of rehearsals for a 
television special the following week. And it had been a long time since 
she'd had any time to herself ... she deserved a few days. She needed them 
in which to think, to find her new, wanton self. 

She stirred as she felt Fargo's hands begin to caress her and his flicking 
tongue and lips move over her warmly tingling breasts and down over the soft 
curve of her belly. Before her love-glazed mind realized what was happening, 
the handsome youth had spread her legs wide and was kneeling between them, 
his thumbs drawing the moist lips of her pussy apart. She could feel his hot 
breath blowing through the tight golden curls which -rimmed her cunt. She 
twisted and clamped her legs tight around his face, holding him prisoner. 

"Oh, nooooo...." the satiated blonde whispered. "No...." 

"I want to," he mumbled. "After the way you did me...." 

"I-I enjoyed it as much as you did," the beautiful recording star confessed. 
"But nobody's ever done that to me. My head is all mixed up ... it's too 
soon." She ran her slender fingers through his disheveled mop of hair. "If 
you really want to you can do it later. I know it'll be beautiful, Fargo 
darling. I want to be able to really let go. Understand?" 

"Sure." Passionately he kissed the sensitive flesh of her inner thighs 
before moving up on the bed. Fargo had never dreamed he might have such an 
experience with Bebe, and he looked at his conquest with mixed emotions. He 
was intensely proud of himself for arousing and fulfilling this beautiful 
older woman when older men had obviously failed. God! How he'd love to 
parade her around East L.A. and let the guys see how a man handled women! 
But another part of his mind told him that he might be out as fast as he'd 
been in. If Bebe began having second-sensible-thoughts, Fargo knew she might 
send him away-with a suitable token of her gratitude of course-and that 
would mean losing the only brass ring he's ever grab in his underprivileged 
life. At this moment, while their bodies were in contact, he was sure he 
could do anything he wanted with Bebe, bend her to his will. If he really 
wanted to eat her pussy, her legs would be wide open, and she'd be breaking 
his neck with the urgency of pulling his tongue down into the sweet fleshy 
slit! Hell, with a little maneuvering, he could probably fuck her in the 
ass! He remembered the way she jumped when the head of his hot cock just 
touched the tight little rose the night before! 

He wondered how it would be, to plunder between those smooth white globes, 
bury hot meat in her virginal back passage. Well, it was something to think 
about. Damn, tight as Bebe's pussy was, her ass-hole would probably strip 
the skin right off his cock! In a silent joke on himself he thought maybe it 
would be a good idea to get himself circumcised before he tried it ... and 
the more he thought of it, the more determined he became to sodomize his 
lovely mistress. 

Meanwhile, he would do well to take out some insurance. The way to begin was 
to let her think he was leaving. 

"Hey, honey," Fargo murmured, his tongue flicking into the shell-like depths 
of her ear. "I gotta go. Gotta take some of the electronic stuff to the 
shop. I just got myself on the agency payroll, and if I fuck up, Matt 
Matthers will fire my ass for sure." 

Bebe turned to look at Fargo in amused disbelief as she chuckled and said, 
"You are a ... a bullshitter! You know full well nobody can fire you now." 
She pursed her lips in thought and continued. "We have to do some figuring. 
You're a smart kid, Fargo. I've been around. I'm not exactly a dum-dum. 
You're playing me like a Wurlitzer organ but that's all right, as long as we 
know what the rules are." 

"A-Wurlitzer I can't play," he said with a mocking grin. "A sex organ, 
that's my style." 

"Don't remind me," she shushed, blushing. "Now, we can work something out, 
and that doesn't include you blossoming out in three-hundred-dollar suits 
and a Cadillac-or we'll both be ruined. I could even go to jail for this! 
Now, what we might do until we figure it all out is this: You keep on just 
as you are, working yourself hard." 

"Like a burro." 

"Like a burro," Bebe agreed. "We'll get you an old car, but a good one, for 
a few hundred dollars." 

"A Chicano kid's car," he said, a trace of bitterness in his voice. "I can 
pick up a hell of a good Caddy eight or nine years old for four or five 
hundred." 

"We can't meet here often," Bebe continued, "but we can find places. I'm too 
conspicuous, with the image Matt Matthers has created. That one-of-a-kind 
car and everything. I'm supposed to be recognized, and it'll be no good if 
I'm seen going around with you? Any ideas?" 

He gave it some thought and said, "Maybe get a pickup truck and western 
style clothes. Second-hand. You know, faded jeans and cowboy shirts and a 
big hat. Wear a wig and dark glasses or something. Don't go places you've 
ever been before." 

"Hey-it could work!" Bebe enthused. "Let's figure it out. Call the agency 
and say you're sick!" 

Giggling like conspiring children, they began to plot. Bebe was amazed at 
the shrewdness of her young lover. He immediately picked up snags of which 
she would never have thought. He pointed out that one could never tell when 
some little thing could go wrong, such as ownership of the truck she would 
need being checked back to her. His solution was beautifully simple. 

"You must buy a horse. And a trailer for the horse." 

"Perhaps give the horse a ride in the trailer," he said, grinning at her 
confusion as she propped herself on an elbow, her firm-pointed breasts 
crushed against his chest hotly. "Chica, if you own a horse, you have reason 
to own a truck. The horse can be boarded somewhere. You never have to see 
the damn horse-just have one. Everybody has horses." 

"I suppose so," Bebe conceded. "So far we've got an old Caddy, a pickup 
truck, a horse trailer ... how much does a horse cost!" 

"For you it should be a good-looking horse. I have a cousin who trades in 
horses. A special price, no more than a thousand dollars. For a very good 
horse." 

"My God, you're getting expensive," she murmured. But, her yearning woman's 
body said, you've worth every cent! It was only money, of which she had 
plenty and he had none. Bebe was sure she would not wind up owning the horse 
permanently. Nor the truck and trailer either. But she could have spent 
every dime she had and not found the delight this lean young boy had given 
her in one night. And the plotting made her feel like a teenager again! 

Fargo went on to point out it would be necessary for her to have a place to 
switch identities, change from her flamboyant showbiz image to Western Girl. 
It was decided that one of the thousands of cracker box apartments in the 
San Fernando Valley would suit. Fargo had an uncle who was a real estate 
agent and would arrange to anonymously rent a place with enclosed garage. 
She wondered how many relatives he had. 

It was an anticlimax to hear he had an older brother who sold trucks. Bebe 
felt she was not acquiring a lover but an entire family which probably had 
ties as far south as Acapulco. 

"Look, Fargo," she said in final surrender. "Go buy it. Buy it all! Just 
don't rip me off too bad." Her voice fell to a whisper. "Buy what you want 
for yourself. When this ride is over, I won't want any of it." She clutched 
at him and pleaded, "Just be good to me for as long as it lasts ... Please! 
" 

"It will last as long as you wish, chica," he said. His strong fingers 
pulled her legs apart and he slid low on the bed, his tongue working 
urgently on her trembling flesh, and he whispered, "I'm going to eat 
you...." 

"Oooohhh...." Bebe mumbled, surrendering. 

She writhed as his deft fingers drew the soft lips of her wetly throbbing 
cunt apart, and she felt his breath hot on the sensitive inner flesh. Then 
his lips brushed over the resilient blonde curls and involuntarily she 
thrust her sensually churning pussy up to his young, fine-boned Latin face, 
trembling at the ecstatic contact of his wetly heated mouth, against her 
most sensitive flesh. She heard him panting in anticipation of what he was 
going to do, knew he intended to enslave her even more, and she wanted him 
to! Sinuously her entire naked body began to respond to his oral 
ministrations. She cried out softly as the probing tip of his tongue 
fluttered up and down the wide-open mouth of her pussy like a crazed 
butterfly. Up and down it slid, wetting, arousing her, dancing from one 
wide-splayed cunt flange to the other, finally circling the button of her 
clitoris teasingly for a long minute. 

And then his tantalizing lips were sucking the tiny penis-like organ up into 
his hungry wet mouth, and his teeth nibbled on it, just sharply enough to 
bring a soft gasp of mingled pain and pleasure. Her long legs scissored 
around his neck even as the full length of Fargo's hot tongue slithered like 
an eel up into the steaming depths of her wantonly grinding pussy. Bebe was 
sure she could feel the whirling tip fluttering against the mouth of her 
uterus. 

"Oh my Goddddd!" she cried out as her hands yanked his sucking mouth tight 
against her lewdly excited cunt and she rolled and tossed on the bed. "Your 
mouth ... your beautiful mouth ... lover!" 

Bebe groaned in frustration as she felt the hot length of his wickedly 
flickering tongue slip from the flexing folds of her cunt, and then gasped 
in new pleasure as it slithered up the wide-splayed crease of her ass-cheeks 
and whirled wildly around her tight little anus. She could not believe the 
sensations she felt! Then the wetly-burning tip actually penetrated the 
constricted rubbery ring, probing into her virginal anal passage. She drew 
her legs open wide and spread her creamy-white buttocks to give him greater 
access. Opposite the bed was a full-wall mirror and she could see the lewdly 
obscene spectacle their entwined bodies made, and it only aroused her 
further! She'd never imagined anything like having a young boy's tongue 
fucking in and out of her anus. A fragment of her mind told her he was using 
her, but she couldn't care! He was giving her something she had to have, 
something no man had ever been able to do. Bebe felt that she had finally 
become a woman, with all a woman's wild desires. She knew that eventually 
she must pay ... eventually! 

Fargo knew the effect he was having on his sex-maddened mistress. He sensed 
every twitch and jump of her shamelessly aroused body and decided it was 
time to take her to the next plateau. He pulled his tongue from her 
ecstatically puckering anus and heard her moan in frustration, then sigh as 
he ran it up the wide-open lips of her cunt again and deep into the smooth 
heated flesh of her vagina. The warm perfumed juices were gushing into his 
sucking mouth already. 

His head bobbing with the spasmodic jerking of her pussy mound, he suddenly 
pushed the outstretched middle finger of his right hand into her 
already-prepared rectum. He was ready for her sharp, sudden gasp of surprise 
and pain, and he only attacked her steaming pussy more urgently with his 
tongue and lips and felt her smooth ass-cheeks twisting and turning on his 
digit as it went in fully to the first knuckle and he began to rotate it in 
the warm most confines of her back passage, stretching the constricting 
muscle. 

"Not ... so ... hard!" Bebe pleaded, but didn't try to escape the unnatural 
invasion. "It ... hurts!" 

"It'll feel good soon," he mumbled without taking his slavering mouth from 
her eagerly quivering cunt. "Relax, Bebe. Trust me." 

Helplessly pinned, the beautiful blonde singer had no choice. She closed her 
eyes against the obscene reflection in the mirror and felt his finger slide 
deeper and deeper into her clenched rectal opening until finally the wet, 
hard-calloused palm of his hand was flattened against her trembling 
ass-cheeks. And then he began to fuck his finger in and out so hard that his 
hand made a loud slapping sound against her wide-stretched buttocks, and she 
found herself grinding down against it, actually wanting more. 

And then, further distorting her virginal rectum, a second finger slid in 
beside the first, making her cry out. But he had more to offer, she quickly 
discovered. 

Fargo's sucking lips moved up the glistening wide-open furrow of her cunt 
and closed on her erectly throbbing clitoris and his tongue lashed it in a 
frenzy at the same moment his thumb invaded deep into her wet cuntal 
passage. He thrust and sawed his hand into her thrashing body as her fingers 
tangled in his damp hair, pulling his cum-glistening face tight to her 
straining loins. 

"Aaaaauuuggghhh!!!" the aroused blonde cried out in mingled agony and 
ecstasy, locking her legs tight around the teenager's head and jerking so 
fast her lower body almost became a blur. "I'm ccccuuumming aggainn!" Bebe 
screamed. "Oh, eat me ... eat me all up!" 

In triumph. Fargo kept at her wantonly straining body until Bebe collapsed 
in a near-faint, unable to move as slowly his tongue and fingers stopped 
working on her. She lay limply, legs splayed wide, gleaming streams of cum 
oozing from the palpitating pink lips of her weary cunt. She managed to 
focus her eyes on his young, handsome face that gleamed with her vaginal 
juices, and after a long time, spoke in a near-whisper. 

"Something else," she moaned. "You are really something else! I don't 
suppose you can cook too?" 

"I can cook. Simple things." 

"You know where the kitchen is. Make us something. While I lie here and 
think about what a beautiful way I almost died." Slowly she reached and 
framed his olive-hued face in her hands, her fingers tracing the fine bone 
structure. "You know women." 

"I know what you need," he said calmly. 

"So do I-now, Fargo. Could you ever love me?" 

"I worship you, Bebe." 

"That's not the same, and you know it!" she protested. 

"If I let myself love you, I would only hurt both of us. Our worlds are 
different. I can give you something, and you can be very good for me. Let us 
take what we have while it is here." 

"You're right, Fargo darling," Bebe murmured. "I'm hungry." 

She curled in the bed, satiated physically but discontent because she knew 
she had opened a Pandora's box and the winds would sweep her deeper and 
deeper into turmoil. She drowsed, and then he was back with a huge tray 
which suggested he had completely cleaned out the refrigerator and probably 
messed up every pot and pan in the house. It was a gargantuan meal of heuvos 
rancheros, scrambled eggs with bits of red and green peppers, link sausages, 
Canadian bacon, a thick slab of ham, a quart of tomato juice, toasted French 
bread, and jam and an immense steaming pot of coffee. He put the entire 
banquet on the bed and they sat nakedly facing each other. Bebe didn't think 
any two people could eat as much, but in half an hour not a scrap remained. 

"I can't believe we ate the whole thing," Bebe sighed, repressing a burp. "I 
never thought you could cook too!" 

He grinned at the compliment. He actually liked this chica, and felt sorry 
that, to insure his own future, he would have to hurt her-but just enough to 
keep her enslaved. It would not be a malicious hurting. But she had to be 
subjugated in a lasting way, before she came to her senses and her brain 
started doing the thinking instead of her cunt. It was time to go shopping. 

Fargo Gonzales demonstrated his shopping ability quickly. Sitting naked on 
the edge of the bed, he used the phone. In half an hour he had bought a 
pickup truck, a six year old Caddy convertible, a horse, a horse trailer, 
and arranged for an apartment. At Bebe's insistence, he opened a charge 
account at a haberdashery on Hollywood Boulevard. That would be safe 
enough-the store handled the folk-rock combo's account anyway. He lay back 
on the bed as he completed the final arrangements to board the anonymous 
horse in luxury. His cock began to harden, and Bebe could not take her eyes 
from it. Even as the virile teenager talked on the phone, she knelt over his 
loins and took his penis up into her soft warm mouth, sucking urgently. 

"Hey!" he whispered, cupping his hand over the phone. 

"I can't let you go away with this!" she murmured. "You might meet a girl 
someplace." Her lips ovaled softly around the swelling head and her tongue 
circled the rubbery ridge, and she drew the long, thick throbbing length of 
him deep into her mouth and sucked until he gasped in pleasure and slammed 
the phone down, grabbing her tossing head. 

An hour later, her mouth still rich with the pungency of the teenager's cum, 
Bebe soaked in her oversized bathtub and told herself she had to be the 
world's prize idiot of the day, to get tangled up like this. Yet her life 
had been pointless for so long. She'd made a lot of money and was certain to 
make much more, but what good had it done her? She'd been so lonely. At 
least this fifteen year old boy had brought her to life, made her a real 
woman. She was sure the eventual price would be high, and she wondered how 
long she could keep Fargo. He was no ordinary gigolo. He had ambition and 
determination. He would not be content to simply live off her. He would-take 
what she had and hopefully give good value in return, but in time he would 
have to do his own thing. He had too much pride to be just a fancy boy. 

* * * 

Sgt. Dalt Edwards was a patient man. He could wait. With his walkie-talkie, 
he had run a license tag check on the station wagon the boy was driving. He 
knew who it belonged to, but not who the boy was. He knew it would be 
heading for the city, and he parked his white BMW bike at a drive-in where 
he could watch the highway. When the wagon passed with the kid at the wheel, 
he radioed the substation for a routine stop-and-check. At a discreet 
distance, he gunned the hot bike behind, and saw a black-and-white CHP 
cruiser had the kid stopped. He passed and pulled over at the first turnout. 
The patrolman had what he wanted. The kid, Fargo Gonzales, was clean. 

One thing puzzled him: Why would a hot singing star like Bebe Randolph be 
sucking a teenager's cock? Shit, she could have any prick she wanted, 
including his own. Particularly his own! He thought of how her mouth had 
looked, wrapped so tightly around the thick spear of male flesh, of how she 
had gone at it. 

Well, if Bebe Randolph wanted cock, he had a cock for her. Damned if any 
punk was going to get that kind of stuff! 

Sgt. Dalt Edwards was well-trained enough as a cop not to jump to 
conclusions. He would look carefully first. He twisted the throttle of the 
big bike and set off in pursuit of the station wagon, hanging well back on 
the freeway. The pattern which evolved confused him. The kid went to a 
dealer and apparently bought a truck. Then he bought a horse trailer and a 
horse to put in it. He met somebody and looked at an apartment. He went to a 
music store and came out carrying a guitar case, and by discreet inquiry 
Edwards discovered the case held a Martin full concert grand guitar which 
cost over a thousand dollars. He went to a haberdashery and spent a long 
time inside, and then he headed east, apparently for his home, at which 
point the sergeant dropped him. He already had enough confusing information 
to last him. 

He thought of narcotics. The kid could be dealing dope, have Bebe hooked. 
His radio contact had already informed him the boy worked for her rock 
group. That would be the simple answer, but he didn't think it was the right 
one. 

And, the handsome sergeant admitted to himself, what he really wanted was to 
fuck Bebe Randolph's ass right off the top of her beautiful long legs. 
Nothing else mattered! 

After all, she'd just about invited him when he flagged her doing better 
than a hundred twenty.... 

* * * 

Fargo Gonzales found himself very busy, and very pleased with himself and 
his efficiently at spending Bebe's money. He drove the new Ford pickup-four 
thousand bucks worth-to the apartment and locked it in the garage. He went 
to a nearby delicatessen and laid in a supply of food, intending to use the 
apartment himself and get out of the ghetto for however long he could. With 
money Bebe had given him from her wallet, he rode a twenty-dollar cab to 
pick up his Cadillac and discovered it was a real pussy wagon-although he 
sure didn't need any of that right now! He swung by the haberdasher and 
collected his purchases there. They went into the Cad's trunk with the 
guitar. He wondered if she would raise hell about the guitar, and thought 
not. If she did, he'd ram his cock up her hot little cunt and shut her up 
quick. He had no intention of looking at the damn horse. But he stopped at a 
western saddlery and carefully picked out the best saddle and tack in the 
place. He had never been on a horse, but now that he had access to one, he 
might learn to ride, and silver-mounted saddles were always negotiable. 

Finally he headed east out Whittier to the ghetto. He put the big 
convertible's top down and turned on the FM stereo tape deck and gave the 
finger to his friends. In a friendly way. 

They came from blocks around to admire and envy. Fargo told them he had been 
lucky in a crap game and they thought he must have hit a big liquor store 
with a gun. Finally, he put Maria Fuentes in the seat beside him and headed 
south toward San Diego. He had been formulating a plan, and Maria was a part 
of it. 

She was a couple of years older than himself, raised in the same deprived 
way. A stunningly beautiful, light-complected Chicano girl who worked across 
town in a drive-in. There she had a chance to meet plenty of men-and women. 
She could and did go either way, and she always dug it-male or female. 

"Who'd you rip off?" she said, lying back in luxury against the rich leather 
seat of the magnificent Caddy. "Watch out the fuzz don't bust you just for 
being in wheels like this." 

"I got the paper on it ... and a hell of a lot more." 

"Whatever's right," the Latin girl said, moving close to him and reaching 
between his legs to squeeze his soft cock. "You want to get sucked off at a 
hundred miles an hour?" 

"A century an hour buys fuzz," the confident teenager said, not at all 
aroused. "And my prick is rented out to the chica that paid for this set of 
wheels." 

"You're into something but big," the girl said. 

"You want a part of the action?" 

"What's the scene, man?" the lovely girl said, now suddenly alert. "Did she 
send you out hunting eating pussy for her?" 

"I'll lay it on you when we're off the road." 

Below Laguna Beach he found a secluded motel where the man at the desk 
looked only at his money. They went to a cottage with a bottle Maria had 
bought, being as she looked old enough. Casually they undressed and lay on 
the bed and drank the raw bourbon with 7-UP. Without telling her names, he 
laid the situation on her, and she nodded in agreement. 

"You want to hang this chica up good. Cool!" She reached to fondle his cock. 
"What makes you think once I get my tongue in her hot little pussy she'll 
ever think of this dingle-dangle again?" 

"I already gave her more head than you could," the boy said confidently. "I 
really dig this chica. She's people. But to keep her, I gotta have a handle 
on her. She fucks like a mink, and she could dump me-unless I hang her up 
good." 

"So what's the scene?" 

"I get her someplace. With some of the guys-ones who won't get out line ... 
grab a sweet fuck and suck, and you turn her on to eating cunt ... hot as 
she is, she'll go. We beat her down to her knees and make her love it. Then 
we all live good." 

"But you live best of all," Maria countered. 

"Why the hell not? Who found her?" 

"I'll drink to that." The slender, high-breasted girl with the sleek olive 
skin drank deeply and with her free hand stroked his rising penis. She said, 
"Not up to a fuck, Fargo?" 

"In your asshole." 

"That really tears me up. How about a blow job?" The hot-blooded girl dove 
on his loins and captured his rising penis between her skilled lips, her 
tongue swirling. 

"She's a better cocksucker than you'll ever be, and today was her first 
time," he said. "Roll over on your belly and get your ass in the air-I need 
the practice." 

Sighing, the raven-tressed Chicano girl obeyed. She barely grunted as the 
long, thick shaft rammed into her obscenely exposed anus and his sperm-laden 
balls smacked against the tender lips of her pussy. Damn, but this young 
stud was big! And he knew what did the job. His pole of flesh was almost 
tearing her apart, but it was beginning to feel good. Twisting and churning, 
she ground her buttocks back, wantonly urging even deeper impalement. She 
knew he would make her cum ... and if this girl he talked about was anything 
close to what he claimed, she would be beautiful eating.... 

* * * 

Unknown even to Sgt. Dalt Edwards, the Cad convertible was tracked, passed 
from one cruising patrol car to another. The officer who had made the stop 
at Edwards' request had not been satisfied when he found a fifteen year old 
Mex kid wheeling the Caddy, even though the papers were in order. He was a 
good cop, meaning he thought a lot and he read the books. He was also 
discreet. The sergeant had asked for the stop, and the sergeant would get 
the first word. 

He reached the sergeant after 2 a.m. at his bachelor apartment in hills high 
above Hollywood and gave his report. Dalt Edwards digested the information. 
The trooper was young, with only three years of service. He would go a hell 
of a long way. 

"Guess who gets his lieutenant's bar next week," Edwards said, rubbing sleep 
from his eyes. "Guess who inherits my sergeant's strips, if I have anything 
to say about it ... and I will!" 

"Thanks." There was no need to say more. It usually took ten years to get 
stripes. Whatever he had done was right. "Anything more?" 

"I'm going to Laguna. Phone me in sick." 

Sgt. Dalt Edwards hung up. He showered, scrubbing the too-short sleep from 
his eyes. He debated his course of action. He might be onto something, or 
nothing more than a piece of sweet ass if he was lucky, and he decided to 
cover himself. He phone the narco squad of the Los Angeles Police and asked 
for a cover on Bebe Randolph. Then he dressed in civilian clothes and got 
his BMW bike out and headed south, using his radio to alert all substations 
and police departments to be on the lookout for the kid in the Caddy. He 
told them to cold-trail, stay back, He asked for an unmarked follow car and 
got it. He straddled the powerful cycle and made a vow-he was going to fuck 
Bebe Randolph so hard she'd forget she ever saw that skinny kid! 

* * * 

Happily unaware of the situation which was building around him, Fargo 
Gonzales lay over the back of the sleek raven-haired Chicano girl, his spent 
penis softening in the hot circle of her tightly throbbing rectum. One thing 
about Maria, he thought ... she could talk straight with a cock up her ass! 

"I still say you should get her out to the neighborhood and gang-bang the 
shit out of her, and then I'll eat up her pussy and make her feel good," 
Maria argued. 

"No fucking way!" the boy retorted. "I can make her any way I want on her 
own turf, but take her to the ghetto and she's gonna get so fucking uptight 
... no, I got the pad now. I can get her there okay ... she wants a place to 
fuck. Just you line up the guys. We'll bang her senseless-but I take her 
away-shit, I rescue her, and she's all over me. Dig?" 

"You got a fucking brain, Fargo," she admitted, wriggling out from under his 
weight and slowly opening her legs. Her slim fingers parted the soft, 
dark-hair fringed flanges of her cunt and she said, "Eat me a little-didn't 
cum." 

"Shit," he muttered. "Well, I'll fix that!" 

He took a mouthful of straight bourbon whiskey and burrowed down between her 
widespread young thighs, fastening his lips tight to her cuntal mouth. He 
squirted the burning liquor far up her fluid-heated cunt and listened to her 
scream as it seared her most sensitive flesh. 

Slowly he began to let it ooze, drop by drop, onto his delving tongue. 

It was damn good practice for Bebe Randolph. 

They left the motel before 8 a.m. There was coastal fog and Fargo put up the 
convertible top. He gave only passing attention to various police and 
sheriff's cars. He was well within the speed limit, and moving with 
city-bound traffic. There was no reason to notice the big BMW bike which 
passed him from time to time, and was passed in turn, except to think it 
would be nice to have a cycle like that some day. Maria fished his cock out 
of his pants and tried to suck it, but he shoved her head out of his lap. He 
had to concentrate on his driving. And her mouth wasn't as sweet as her 
asshole. 

They had stayed awake most of the night. 

Bebe-and Maria still didn't know who Bebe was-was all set up. 

Fargo Gonzales thought he had figured all the angles. He would use his 
Chicano buddies, and Maria. He would move Bebe into a position where, 
between her wild lust for his young virile body and the threat of losing 
everything she had, would make him incredibly rich overnight. Really hand 
him the key to a showbiz career of his own. 

And, if he worked it right, she'd never know how she'd been used. All he had 
to do was fuck her, keep her happy, and let her think that whatever went 
wrong was just bad luck, Fargo liked Bebe Randolph. Nice girl with a nice, 
hot pussy and a lot of money and connections. 

If he could just keep her on her knees, begging, it would be beautiful. 

 CHAPTER FIVE 

Far from having a damaging effect on her as a performer, Bebe Randolph 
discovered her affair with Fargo was beneficial. With her body contented, 
she was more at ease, and she would have a new number down right in much 
less time than before. At first she had been afraid she'd give him away by 
the way she looked at the boy when others were around, but she found it 
possible to act normally, maybe because she had always been genuinely 
friendly and courteous with everyone. 

The horse turned out to be a stroke of genius. The agency publicity 
department got wind of it and decided that the beast would make a nice 
counterpoint to Bebe's normal image, which, in the opinion of some, was too 
slick for a folk singer. 

The hideout apartment was also perfect for the purpose. Thick shrubbery 
concealed comings and goings, and it was sound-proof. She and Fargo spent a 
lot of time in it during the ensuing weeks. From time to time he brought 
friends, including a stunning Chicano girl named Maria. Bebe sensed 
something with the girl but could not pin it down. She finally decided Maria 
had probably been Fargo's girl before she took him over and was resentful 
... yet it didn't seem to be quite that. 

Bebe had been nervous the first time Fargo announced they would have guests. 
She had argued against it, but he out-talked her, pointing out that they 
couldn't hide forever, and it would be wise to see if she could fool his 
friends by altering her appearance. They were of the same age group as the 
great mass of fans, and, if they didn't recognize her, then nobody would. 
Accordingly, Bebe bought a wig, a dark one styled differently than her own 
hair, and wore dark-tinted contact lenses over her violet eyes. Just those 
things and reshaping her generous mouth with heavy lipstick did the job 
perfectly. 

After the first visit, Bebe was completely at ease, and would get a silent 
chuckle when the teenagers would get to talking about her latest record or 
TV spot. She discovered they were rough kids, because of the conditions in 
which they lived. But it was recognized that she was Fargo's property, and 
she wasn't molested. The only one who ever touched her was Maria, and that 
made Bebe a little uncomfortable-having even the suggestion of a caress from 
another female-but she put it down to the girl trying to be overly friendly 
because she'd been cold at first. 

But a couple of things bothered her. Sometimes they brought beer and liquor 
and drank, although they didn't get noisy drunk. 

And, on a few occasions, she had come in to sniff the acrid odor of 
marijuana in the apartment. At this, she protested vigorously, but again 
allowed Fargo to calm her. 

"Bebe, everybody smokes," he said. "Take three deep breaths at the next 
taping, and you'll be high yourself. It's not a hard-time rap any more-maybe 
a fifty buck fine if anybody bothers to bust you." 

"A fifty-buck fine for you," she snapped back. "For Bebe Randolph, singer, 
what is it? It's Bebe's ass! Headlines in the paper saying, FOLK SINGER 
STAGES TEENAGE POT PARTY! that's what it'll be!" 

"Shit! There's never more than a couple of sticks. Nobody's holdin' or 
dealin' ... we can't get busted here because the narcs would have to come 
pounding up two flights of steps, and it's all down the crapper. We'll burn 
incense." 

Bebe could not prevail against his thinking. She was afraid to press it for 
fear he'd walk out of her life, and that she'd rebound and be grabbed by 
some real heel. Fargo's lifestyle had changed for the better, but at least 
he wasn't stealing from her. He accounted for everything and-to her great 
surprise-insisted on paying for the expensive guitar out of his salary. He 
said he had bought it when he had the chance to get it cheap. The Caddy, 
clothes and spending money he accepted as gifts, and it was tacitly 
understood that, in time, he would inherit the truck, horse, trailer and 
tack. But the guitar seemed to be a point of honor with him. She knew she 
would never understand the Latin mind. 

Several times he played the guitar and sang to her, and Bebe found herself 
wincing. He was no Jose Feliciano as a singer, and, as a guitarist, he had 
two left hands. She tried to be tactful, casually mentioning how tough it 
was to reach star status, and moving on to how much more money was to be 
made in the business end. 

"You are a natural born manager," she told him once. "The way you handle all 
the little things for the combo ... the way you set up everything we have 
together-half an hour on the phone. Fargo, I want you to stick with the 
agency and take some business courses. Matt Matthers likes you, and, if I 
ask him to, he'll see you get ahead." 

"Chica, you're right," the boy admitted. "I'm not talented, except maybe I'm 
so bad I'm good, like Jack Benny with his fiddle. I will think on what you 
say." 

Actually she had not told the shrewd teenage body anything he had not known. 
But, making her say it had put her deeper in his debt. Just as insisting on 
paying for the guitar had been a master stroke laid upon her eager ass. It 
amounted to buying the hub-caps and then stealing the car to which they were 
attached. 

Week by week, he drew the unsuspecting blonde singer deeper into his 
intricate web. He even brought her to the point where she would take a hit 
off a joint after he had fucked her silly, so she barely knew what she was 
doing. Now he had her accepting his selected friends without question. 

The time for nailing Bebe Randolph permanently was coming. 

* * * 

Sergeant Dalt Edwards was also active in his quiet, thorough way. His 
Lieutenant's commission had finally come through, and, as he had promised, 
Ken Hanson, the officer who had set up the surveillance on Fargo and the 
blonde, had made his stripes. Needing a partner, Edwards had brought Hanson 
partly into the deal. He could trust Hanson-the bike cop was a cocksman of 
great determination. 

Various segments of the intricate state crime-fighting organization were 
tapped. The Intelligence Unit of the LAPD bugged the apartment and its phone 
and also Bebe's home phone. Sporadically, Fargo and Bebe were trailed, 
either together or separately. Narcs nosed around. One, disguised as a phone 
repairman, got into the apartment and prowled it. He found one marijuana 
roach and nothing more-not enough to bother with. The apartment layout was 
thoroughly scouted and means of making a successful raid were discussed by 
experts. 

In the end, the new Lieutenant Dalton Edwards and his sidekick told the 
experts to go to hell-they would get warrants and hit when they thought the 
time was ripe. To predictions that they would never get in undetected, 
Edwards would say only, "We'll get in." 

* * * 

A few days later, events moved forward abruptly. Bebe and Fargo had their 
first knock-down, drag out fight. It was on a weekend in spring, and the 
first bullfights of the season were scheduled in Tijuana. Fargo wanted to 
go. Bebe didn't. She thought they were cruel. But she told him to go, 
knowing it was a colorful spectacle in which the Mexicans took great 
pleasure, and, as long as she was going to have a Chicano lover, she would 
have to allow him certain things. She had gone to the house near Santa 
Barbara. 

And on that Sunday evening, she discovered she'd left a videotape at the 
apartment, one which she had to have. And she drove there, arriving shortly 
after 9 p.m., expecting to find the place vacant. 

It was not vacant. Fargo and perhaps a dozen friends, all youths, were 
there. They were smoking pot and drinking and so entranced with watching a 
pornographic movie that they didn't notice her arrival. Stunned and 
infuriated, Bebe took in the scene. And then a temper she didn't realize she 
had erupted. 

She was wearing her Western Girl outfit, with high-heeled boots, and her 
first move was to scream in anger and kick the projector so hard it broke 
into three pieces. Then she hurled a can of film through the screen. Then 
she threw anything she could get her hands on at any target. She was stopped 
only when Fargo himself tackled her and threw her to the floor, but, even 
then, she was able to leave the red welts of her nails on his face. 

"You son of a bitch!" she screamed. "Bullfights, is it? Was that a bull the 
girl in the movie was sucking? What's the matter? I'm not enough woman for 
you? You have to look at dirty pictures. Get off me! Get out! All of you!" 

She punched him in the nose, making it bleed. 

He hit her with the flat of his hand, then the back of his hand, again and 
again, until blood ran from her mouth. 

"The corrida was rained out," he said, fury in his dark face. "When men are 
together, they will do things they would not do with their women around. If 
you ever raise your hand to me again, chica, I will kill you! Now, you get 
out!" 

Terrified, Bebe realized he meant every word. Abjectly, her face stinging 
from his brutal slaps, she picked herself up and fled. Her world was ended. 
Somehow she made it back to Santa Barbara. 

The next day, she went to retrieve whatever she might have left in the 
hideout apartment. There was little, as Fargo had been very efficient at 
seeing she left no clues to her identity around. She looked at the big 
foam-rubber bed on which they had given each other so much pleasure, then 
threw herself on it and wept until her entire body shook. 

"He will be back. He is sorry. He had to do what he did." 

Bebe rubbed her tear-swollen eyes, blinking, until she could recognize Maria 
Fuentes standing in the doorway of the bedroom. She wondered if Fargo had 
sent her to get his things. The Mexican girl was stunningly beautiful. Her 
full, pointed breasts, unfettered by a brassiere, showed clearly through a 
sheer, scoop-necked off-the-shoulder blouse. Her dark hair tumbled over her 
shoulders in a mass of curls. She had on a leather micro-mini skirt and 
bikini panties which concealed none of the dark "vee" of her cunt. She wore 
calf-high boots of leather which matched the brief skirt. Her taut buttocks 
clenched as she crossed to the bed and bent over Bebe. 

"You castrated him in his own house," Maria said. "A Spaniard-and all 
Mexicans think of themselves as Spaniards-can never allow a woman to do what 
you did. You are Anglo, so you would not understand. Fargo realizes this, 
and he is truly sorry. But he had to do what he did." She was carrying a 
shoulder bag and drew a packet from it. "He asked me to bring you these. The 
papers on the truck and the trailer and the horse. And his note to repay all 
you gave him, as soon as he can." 

Bebe began to cry again. Brokenly, she said, "I don't want them ... I want 
Fargo!" 

"Then you must work to get him back. He is proud," the Chicano girl said as 
she sat on the bed and leaned over to stroke Bebe's tear-stained face. "You 
should cry first. Cry it all out, and then you can think. I will stay with 
you." 

Bebe felt herself being drawn into the beautiful young girl's arms as Maria 
slipped her boots off and lay on the bed. Bebe, her eyes streaming, burrowed 
her face into the soft, warm valley between the Chicano girl's upthrust 
young breasts, feeling their heat and firmness and the firm nipples. Her 
arms held Maria close and she let herself go for a long time as Maria's deft 
fingers stroked her, sliding lightly over the full curves of breasts and 
hips and buttocks. It did not seem unnatural, only very comforting, and, in 
time, the utter despair began to melt away in the embrace. 

Bebe Randolph no longer felt alone. 

She began to feel serene, even experienced fluttering sensual arousal at 
Maria's skilled touch as the girl's fingers danced slowly up the insides of 
her thighs, brushed over her pubic mound and began to make little circles on 
her belly. 

"Why are you doing this for me?" Bebe whispered as she gradually regained 
control. "I-I thought you didn't like me. That maybe Fargo had been your man 
and I took him away. Do-do you know who I am?" 

Maria laughed softly, sensuous lips opening to show fine white teeth as she 
said, "I knew the first minute I saw you, Bebe. A wig and some little 
changes here and there will fool a man but not another woman. And Fargo was 
not mine Fargo is not anybody's. I have never told anyone. Why should I hurt 
you?" 

"You're ... you're nice, Maria," Bebe said. 

"I'm a Chicano chick. Maybe I understand things, but I'm not nice." She 
laughed softly, without humor. "Bebe, we got to hang together against the 
studs, you dig? Fuck them around before they fuck us around." As if on 
impulse, she pulled Bebe close and kissed her full on the lips, her tongue 
sliding into Bebe's surprised mouth. At first Bebe tried to recoil, but it 
was the first gentle physical contact she'd had in days, and, through her 
warm moving lips, Maria seemed to be pouring out the universal troubles of 
being a woman. Bebe found herself responding, moving closer. 

It seemed natural to hold the beautiful Mexican girl tight and let her legs 
fall open as Maria's warm, rounded knee slid up between her thighs and began 
to rub sensuously over the lips of her quickly-arousing cunt. Maria's full 
breasts were flattened against her own and their bodies began to undulate 
together. Bebe moaned as Maria broke the long kiss. 

"You're wrung out," Maria said. "Why don't you take a long soak in the 
bathtub, and we can rap when you've got yourself together." 

"Yes ... that sounds good," Bebe whispered. She could feel the sensual 
arousal slowly diminishing now in her body. It was something she'd never 
dreamed she could have-the desire to hold and kiss another woman, and she 
put it down to the terrible emotional stress she was under. "If you want 
anything to eat or drink...." 

"No thanks," Maria said. "But Fargo kept me up all night with his moaning 
and groaning, and, if I could crash here for an hour or so...." 

"As far as I'm concerned, you can have the whole damned apartment for the 
next six months," Bebe said. "The rent's paid, and somebody might as well 
use it." 

She went into the bathroom and began running hot water. Maria Fuentes 
quickly shed her few clothes and lay naked on the bed. It was working 
perfectly, just as Fargo had predicted! And she, Maria, had a sweet piece of 
the action. 

He and the stud would lay a ration of shit on little Bebe. And then Maria 
would appear as if my magic with comfort and arousing lovemaking-who the 
hell did Fargo think he was, saying he could eat this chick's pussy better 
than she could-and they'd bang the rich blonde goddess back and forth like a 
badminton bird until the feathers flew out of her tail! 

Only, careful-don't ramshackle the silly goose as long as she's laying 
golden eggs-Maria cautioned herself. 

Bebe Randolph found the hot bath soothing. She was so grateful to the 
beautiful young girl for coming by and being so understanding, willing to 
help her overcome her terrible mistake and get Fargo back. In time she 
stepped from the tub, dried herself in a fluffy towel and, with it wrapped 
around her, went back to the bedroom. The hot bath had made Bebe lethargic. 
She felt the urgent need for a catnap. In the doorway, she paused to gaze at 
Maria's gracefully poised body. The Chicano girl was truly beautiful. Bebe 
wished she had such breasts, such a slender waist and richly swelling hips 
and rounded buttocks. And her skin tone was so beautifully olive. Bebe had 
never liked her own skin. It was too pale, and, no matter which lotions she 
used, she never seemed to tan just right. She wondered if Maria would be 
interested in a job as a model. The agency had plenty who were dogs compared 
to her, and she would like to do something nice for Maria. 

"Ola!" Maria murmured, rolling on her back. "Feeling better, Bebe?" 

"Much," Bebe said. "But it almost put me to sleep. I could fall down right 
here." 

"Then come to bed. We can rap and you can catch a nap." 

That sounded logical. Bebe lay on the bed, snuggling into the other girl's 
open arms, feeling her soft naked warmth. 

"You're beautiful ... really beautiful," Maria whispered, her soft lips 
against Bebe's ear, her , tongue flickering around it even as her fingers 
moved to cup and squeeze Bebe's right breast. "I'll love you to sleep, 
Bebe." 

The blonde recording star wanted to protest, but the hot bath had sapped her 
energy and slowed her ability to think clearly. She found herself sighing 
and moving restlessly as the soft warm mouth closed over her rising nipple 
and began to suck as the tip of Maria's tongue lazily circled the aureole. 
Bebe trembled at the oral contact, and then twitched as she felt skilled 
fingers sliding up the sensitive flesh of her inner thighs to brush lightly 
over the still-damp curly hairs which fringed her cunt. 

"Maria!" she gasped softly as the girl's hand closed over her vaginal mound 
and began a tantalizing circular movement. Against her will, her sensually 
awakening body began to respond to the expert manipulation, and she found 
her thighs relaxing, even as her pelvis began to undulate up and down in 
hunger. She looked down and saw the burning-hot tip of her breast being 
deliciously laved by the wet pink tip of Maria's tongue. A finger deftly 
slipped inside her swelling cunt lips, dipping into her juices and Bebe 
moaned, "I don't want to...." 

"After what Fargo did to you, you need some love," Maria whispered. "Not a 
hard, hurting prick, but soft lips. When he told me how he hit you, I could 
have killed him!" 

"Ooooohhh...." the bewitched young blonde groaned. She knew it was wrong, 
but was helpless. Maria's touch ... her soft fingers and even softer lips 
and tickling tongue were too much in her weakened emotional and physical 
condition. She managed to mumble a protest. "It's-lesbian-queer!" 

"If it helps you through a tight spot, it's not," Maria whispered. "You're 
still wound up. Your pussy's on fire. If you leave here, go out on the 
street; the way your head is right now, it won't be half an hour before some 
bar stud had you in a motel and is fucking you crazy. He'll probably smack 
you around and rip you off! I'll take care of you, Bebe. Let off the 
pressure. Then you can go and tell them all to fuck off, and you may never 
see me again. But right now, I can be where it's all at for you." 

"Oh my God...." the confused blonde mumbled. Somehow it made sense. She knew 
that, if she went out now, she'd be fair game for anybody. What Maria 
proposed to do for her was a little unnatural, maybe, but Bebe told herself 
it wasn't uncommon. In show biz she had many good friends who made no 
excuses for being bisexual, and they were the first to protest that they 
were not lesbians ... it was just that one woman could give another certain 
things a man was not capable of because men were built different in mind and 
body. 

"Yes," she sighed. "Maria, love me." 

Maria Fuentes smiled to herself and began to expertly lick and kiss her way 
down the trembling belly of the blonde singer. Fargo had promised this much 
for openers, the chance to eat Bebe's sweet little pussy. Well, she'd give 
such beautiful head that Bebe would never want Fargo's tongue in her pussy 
again! It's so damn nice to be with a pale blonde chica like this, instead 
of some wild, untamable stud. They rammed their pricks into your cunt and 
asshole and mouth like you're just a hunk of meat for them to use. And to be 
with a beautiful girl like this is so far out.... 

Bebe trembled uncontrollably as the Chicano girl shifted to kneel between 
her widespread legs. She felt Maria's hands cupping her quivering buttocks, 
spreading them open, and then the soft warmth of her breath over the wetly 
dilating lips of her pussy. She saw Maria's lovely face dip and felt the 
first magic contact of mouth and tongue on her cuntal flesh. And then the 
glistening pink tongue-tip was searching, fluttering along the flowering 
slit of her vagina, from side to side, dancing over her sensitively 
vibrating clitoris as Bebe lost control and began to fuck furiously up, her 
hands clasping the mass of gleaming black curls to pull Maria's head down 
tight into her already-steaming loins. 

Maria had been right-she was better at eating pussy than Fargo! 

The flickings of her tongue were more delicate, faster, seemingly aimed 
perfectly at whatever raw nerve-end needed attention most at any second. 
Maria's wetly heated mouth came down tight on her most sensitive flesh, 
sucking even as her tongue worked like a soft, liquid whip around the bud of 
her wildly aroused clitoris. And she felt an outstretched slender finger 
expertly sliding into her anus, rotating, but not hurting her as Fargo's 
had. Bebe groaned in mounting passion and let herself go, scissoring her 
long, slender legs around the burrowing face of the younger girl, as Maria 
kneaded and squeezed the smooth half-moons of her buttocks like foam rubber. 

The sensations were too much! Before she realized what was happening, Bebe 
felt her vitals clenching and spasming, her belly muscles rippling as a 
thick outpouring of cum poured down the steaming depths of her cuntal canal 
to gush and glisten on the beautiful olive-hued cheeks of her girl-lover. 

"Eeeeeyyyaaahhh!!!" she moaned ecstatically. "Oh God, I'm cuummiinngg! Keep 
licking ... keep sucking meeeee!" 

With the lovely blonde recording star writhing and fucking mindlessly up to 
her furiously lashing tongue and pouring her sweet orgasmic juices down her 
throat, Maria needed no encouragement. She forced Bebe's straining legs 
wider apart and up so they were pressing against her heaving breasts as she 
avidly devoured every drop of the precious fluid. The room was filled with 
the rich scent of their shamelessly aroused cunts and the wet sounds of 
licking and sucking and their loud moans of rapture. Maria herself became so 
involved that she collapsed a moment after the blonde singer weakly slumped 
back with her long legs lewdly splayed open and the golden "vee" of her 
vaginal furrow glistening with mingled saliva and cum. She pulled Maria up 
into the warm embrace of her arms, urgently kissing her, licking her face 
clean. 

For a long time they lay in the sweet lesbianic embrace, panting in the 
afterglow of their passion, hands caressing each other, lips meeting wetly. 
Bebe's mind was in a turmoil. It had been so new, so shocking, so beautiful! 
As traumatic for her in a way as the first time Fargo had made her cum, the 
first time she had taken his long hard cock into her reluctant lips, the 
first time she had let him go down on her. There were just so many things, 
so fast, in recent weeks, and now she had a new desire which must be filled! 

Deeply, lingeringly, she kissed Maria's soft hot mouth, seeking her tongue 
and sucking urgently on it before she whispered shyly, "I want to do it to 
you." 

"No!" Maria shook her head firmly, "Not now! That was for you, to make you 
feel better. You eat my pussy and you get all hot and bothered again. Wait 
until your head is right. Then, if you still want...." she grinned lewdly 
and winked a dark passionate eye " ... we will go away. Not for an afternoon 
or a night, but a weekend or longer. But, if I let you do it now ... and I 
want it so very badly ... I would not be your friend. Understand?" 

"Yes," Bebe conceded. 

"If you have anything to drink, I will fix a couple and we can rap about how 
you get Fargo back." 

"In the kitchen," Bebe mumbled. "Make mine weak." 

She could barely taste the liquor. She saw Maria's drink was considerably 
darker, as she said, "Now, about Fargo...?" 

"Fargo will come around-but you must apologize. You put him down in front of 
his friends." 

"I'll call him right now," Bebe said, reaching for the phone. "I was just 
upset, after a long drive, and you know...." 

"The phone will not do," Maria said. "If you want him, you must tell him to 
bring his friends again to a fiesta! You must show them that you are his 
woman, that you live only for him. Then they will respect him again, and he 
will love you. He will protect you. It is not necessary to say that you are 
sorry. Latinas are expected to be hot-tempered. It was not wrong for you to 
attack Fargo, but to do it in front of men was unforgivable. The men must 
see you are sorry. Because you are an Anglo, they will make allowances, as 
you wouldn't know." 

It was confusing to Bebe, but she got the general idea. If she wanted Fargo, 
she had to subjugate herself. Well, if that's what had to be done, she would 
do it. 

"Could you ... arrange it?" Bebe asked. 

"I will find Fargo and speak to him in the morning." 

"And tell him to get his ass back to work," Bebe replied, with a great wave 
of relief. "That bunch of pothead musicians can't even find the studio 
without him!" With mounting enthusiasm, she added, "And you give him another 
message ... Either he goes to school and takes the courses that will make a 
big executive out of him long after he's forgotten me, or he can get his ass 
out of the milk shed! He's got the head for a lot more than the few trinkets 
and toys I've given him. You tell him I don't want anything except for him 
to get smarted up. Not, like he would say, fucked up! Dig?" 

"I dig, Bebe. You are something else. I'll fix." 

Maria dressed and left. Bebe decided to stay where she was. She had to deal 
with Matt Matthers in the morning, and there was no point to driving back to 
Santa Barbara. 

She was only mildly surprised to see Fargo back on the job, efficient as 
ever in the morning, and relief flooded through her when he said quietly, 
"Maria found me ... it's cool. Sorry I hit you." 

"I had it coming," she replied. "I didn't understand." 

"Okay. Party weekend. I'll bring what we'll need," he said. "It could go on 
a couple of days." 

"If it goes on a couple of days, you find us a handy motel, because we're 
going to need it," Bebe said impishly, buoyant at the thought of being with 
her teenage lover again. "I have all kinds of things planned for us to do." 

"We've done almost everything," he said, grinning. 

"You can think of something new," she said with a lewd grin. "Half the fun 
of being in love is making up." 

"Right on, Bebe." 

Yeah, how right you are, he thought as he watched the smooth seductive swing 
of her buttocks under a mini that barely covered her twitching ass-cheeks. 
You want something new? Just wait until I ram my cock up your ass! Bebe, 
once I get this rod in your ring, there's no way you'll ever turn me loose. 
And, if you try, I'll just send Maria to herd you back! 

He took time out to arrange with a friend in Tijuana for a shipment of 
Spanish fly, and then, whistling, went about his work. 

 CHAPTER SIX 

After some two months, the carefully-planted bugging devices in the secluded 
apartment were finally producing something of interest. Lieutenant Dalt 
Edwards had been on the point of saying to hell with the whole thing and 
just taking his chances on paying a call to Bebe Randolph at her home. After 
all, she'd almost opened her legs that time on the road and given him an 
invitation. He thought he was too much cop-almost as much cop as 
pussy-hound. Seeing her get mixed up with a fifteen year old kid had set 
alarm bells ringing. 

It just didn't figure, a hot number like her going down on a Chicano 
teenager. There had to be more than cock involved, somehow! The narc 
reported no sign of dope, other than the usual pot, which was expected and 
ordinarily tolerated, unless someone filed a complaint. Each of the kid's 
close contacts had been checked, flagged on the road, searched, and not even 
reds or yellowjackets had turned up, to say nothing of acid or the real hard 
shit. Whatever this boy Fargo Gonzales had going for him, it wasn't dope ... 
yet there had to be SOMETHING! Porno films, maybe. It was possible he got 
the blonde smashed out of her mind a couple of times and had her make it 
with that damn horse. He snorted in amusement. No, she wasn't that kind! 

Anyway, she needed rescuing, and he was ready to mount his white BMW 
charger. 

The newly-created lieutenant thought of all possibilities. There was no 
point to busting a few kids, but, if somehow hanging tight to them led him 
to something worthwhile, well, there was a command-level spot opening in the 
Attorney General's office that paid twice as much as packing Highway Patrol 
iron. There were some damn good jobs opening in Washington, now that the FBI 
was in new hands. 

And there was always Bebe Randolph herself. Beautiful, on the way up, loaded 
with bread already. And he could not only fuck her pretty ass off, he could 
play the banjo and sing On Top of Old Smokey. 

Ken Hanson was the only backup he'd need. If he made a bust, he was sure he 
could punch down any ten East L.A. punks. They were built of pure 
chickenshit. Take their switchblades away and they ran like kittens. 

Lieutenant Dalt Edwards smelled a setup. The bugs had worked well, and he 
knew that somehow Bebe Randolph had been led into a lesbian scene and 
persuaded to hold a party. 

So, the thing to do was bust the party. 

Easier thought of than done. He had looked over the ground and knew that 
anyone approaching the apartment, three floors up from the ground, would be 
concealed from the street, yet easily observed from the pad itself. There 
was only one way in, then-over the roof. Preparing, he and Sgt. Hanson had 
taken some training with the Los Angeles Fire Department. 

All the other law enforcement agencies had called it quits. Edwards was 
running this on his own. Even Hanson showed signs of defecting, but hung in 
tight because he was afraid of losing his new stripes. 

"A hell of a bodacious amount of work for just one piece of ass," he 
complained. "You bang Bebe-I get sloppy seconds." 

"Fuck the Mex chick, then," the lieutenant said. "Or we can both fuck Bebe. 
But I get to keep her." 

"You should live so fucking long." 

"The party's tomorrow night. Get the damn equipment ready." 

* * * 

"I don't like the looks of this," Bebe said nervously when she finally met 
Fargo at the apartment. He was surrounded by a half-dozen of his teenage 
buddies, and she could tell they'd been drinking, probably all the way from 
East L.A., and they were half-stoned on grass. "These are animals! If you 
want to impress them by putting me down-I don't think I want you that much." 

"Maria said you'd go, and you're fuckin' well gonna go," the boy said, 
grabbing her wrist and twisting it until Bebe winced. "Sure, they're du 
m-dum, but they spread the word, and I'm a tall dog on my own turf. Don't 
sweat, Bebe doll. Nothing's gonna happen you don't want. Either we fix it my 
way now, or I walk out the fucking door!" 

"Is-is Maria here?" Bebe mumbled, confused. 

"She'll be along," he said. "And get out of those damn jeans and into your 
shortest dress. I want them to see what I got." 

Almost in tears, the shapely blonde singer complied. In the bedroom she shed 
her slacks and thin sweater and slipped a revealingly short off-white sheath 
over her head and saw with dismay that the bikini panties she wore were not 
nearly opaque enough. The deep fleshy furrow of her cunt could clearly be 
seen, and a fringe of blonde pubic hair showed along the elastic edges at 
her "vee." To say nothing of the way the flimsy material worked into the 
crack of her buttocks after she took a few steps, leaving her smoothly 
rounded ass-cheeks virtually bare. 

A horrifying thought came to her confused mind. If Fargo felt he had to 
humiliate and subjugate her to prove to his friends how much she was in his 
power-could he possibly intend to fuck her with them present? 

No, he'd never think of such a thing, she was sure. 

Her mind was diverted by the arrival of Maria, who was wearing an equally 
brief outfit, but all of shiny black leather, with thigh-high boots to 
match. She looked exotic in a somewhat gaudy way, almost like some of the 
women pictured in the offbeat men's magazines that focused on whips and 
spurs. She immediately put her arms around Bebe, and the touch of her soft 
mouth and darting tongue quickly brought back the time they had spent 
together. The blonde recording star was overwhelmingly glad to have another 
woman at hand, and Maria assured her she looked perfect. 

A drink was pressed into her hand as soon as she and Maria returned to the 
party. Bebe felt she needed something to ease her nerves and she quickly 
drained the glass, only to find another quickly handed to her. The liquor 
tasted strange, but, as she hardly ever drank, the flavor meant nothing to 
her, and it was both soothing and refreshing. Just the two glasses eased her 
nervousness, almost made her giddy, and she impulsively embraced Fargo as 
soon as she had the chance, kissing him hotly and pressing her nearly-naked 
body against his tightly. 

"Forgive me, darling?" she mumbled against his mouth. 

The boy's arms went around her and his strong fingers dug into the tight 
crease of her buttocks, kneading them as he returned her kiss. 

Bebe knew they must make a lewd, obscene spectacle in front of the other 
youths, but she didn't care, not even when he moved one hand up to pull open 
the top of her dress and cup one naked breast. She could only moan and 
writhe lewdly against him, realizing how much she had wanted him. 

"Take me in the bedroom," she whispered, pleading. 

"Later, Bebe." His fingers slid over the rich curves of her body, down to 
her vaginal "vee" and explored under the thin panties, slipping into the 
tight hair-lined furrow of her cunt, arousing her clitoris, making her groan 
with an urgent need. She couldn't understand what was wrong with her, 
wanting him to take her, immediately, so wildly. And right now she didn't 
care if others saw it happening. 

"That stuff's really hitting her," Maria said to Fargo. "Remember, I get her 
first. The first one of these punks that tries to fuck me up gets a blade up 
his ass." 

"Cool it," the handsome teenager said curtly. "One more belt of Spanish fly, 
and she'll be raping you." 

His words were close to the truth. Bebe continued to drink, and an 
uncontrollable itch grew up between her legs. It felt as though her wildly 
pulsating cunt were on fire. She made it to the bathroom and dashed cold 
water on her face, but that didn't help. On her way out, she collided with 
Maria. Bebe stumbled and would have fallen if the younger girl hadn't caught 
her. 

"Hey? You look sort of stoned," Maria said. "You okay?" 

"A little woozy," Bebe admitted. 

"Then come on, lie down for a minute. The guys are talking stud talk and 
won't miss us." 

Bebe allowed herself to be led, and Maria's suggestion that she take her 
dress off so it wouldn't get wrinkled seemed sensible. Maria assured her the 
door was locked, and then helped her get naked. Bebe lay gratefully on the 
big bed. Her wig seemed uncomfortably tight, so she took it off too, and her 
long pale hair splashed across the pillows. She was barely surprised to see 
Maria stripping too. The pure olive-hued beauty of the Chicano girl's body 
captivated her. The legs were so long and slender, ass-cheeks so smooth and 
perfectly-rounded, flowing into generous hips and then pinching in to a 
wasp-waist. And her breasts stood out like miniature coral-tipped mountains. 
They jiggled as Maria gracefully slid beside her in the bed. 

Without hesitation, Bebe rolled into the inviting arms and opened her eager 
mouth for Maria's teasing tongue. The younger girl's fingers quickly moved 
to the singer's wetly heated vagina, parting the sensitive outer lips and 
dancing over the hardening bud of Bebe's clitoris. 

"Ummmmmm...." the blonde moaned and didn't resist as the girl took her hand 
and guided it between the long dark legs and up to the black curling hair of 
her cuntal "vee." Bebe began to stroke the warm, moist flanges of the other 
girl's pussy as if she had done this a thousand times before. She slithered 
down until she could capture one of Maria's rounded little breasts between 
her lips and suck on the protruding nipple as she and the dark-haired beauty 
lewdly caressed each other. "So soft and smooth ... and beautiful." 

Maria's hands held her close, stroking her tangled mass of blonde hair, and 
Bebe found herself lost in a reverie, experiencing sensations she had 
admitted to never knowing before, lying in the arms of another woman. As 
from a great distance, she heard Maria whispering. 

"Remember when you wanted to go down on me?" 

"Ummmmm...." Bebe moaned, still sucking the soft warmth other breast. 

"You know they're going to fuck us ... all of them," Maria murmured. "We 
could have each other first." 

The words shocked Bebe. She wanted to get up and run, but just the word 
"fuck" set off a new surge of excited heat in her loins, and she knew she 
couldn't flee because she wanted to be fucked by them all, but, at the same 
time, she wanted Maria first. "How can we do it to each other?" she mumbled. 

Moving with the agility of an eel, the Mexican girl quickly showed her. Bebe 
found herself lying on her side, face-to-loins with the young female. She 
could see the pink flanges of Maria's cunt through the dark curling hairs, 
and her nostrils flared at the rich woman-scent. 

"Start kissing and licking, baby," Maria whispered, at the same time parting 
Bebe's trembling thighs and burying her beautiful Latin face between them. 
Bebe hesitated only until she felt the tongue slithering into her heatedly 
quivering pussy, and then, with a sigh of surrender and desire, brought her 
own hungry mouth down eagerly on Maria's cunt as the latter's legs spread 
wide to her. 

From that point, everything became natural, and Bebe needed no guidance or 
encouragement. Her fingers spread the pulsing wet slit of flesh wide and the 
searching tip of her tongue eagerly delved into the glistening depths of the 
Mexican teenager's wetly throbbing vagina. The taste electrified Bebe and 
she eagerly licked and sucked, even as she felt the same being done to 
herself. Maria's pussy mound began to thrust down hard against her slurping 
mouth and Bebe's searching tongue soon discovered the nib of the other 
woman's clitoris. She licked it and then drew it between her avid lips, 
sucking hard, hearing Maria's gasps of pleasure. The dark-haired girl's 
slender thighs tightened around her burrowing face, and Bebe pulled them 
open to gain greater access to the wet fragrant target. 

The fury of their carnal passions overcame them, and the lewdly entwined 
women began to roll and thrash on the bed, and the room was filled with the 
aromatic aromas of their aroused pussies and the wet sounds of their 
hungrily-working mouths. 

Everything except the sweet cunt she was devouring so greedily became an 
abstraction for the blonde recording star. She felt Maria's tongue drilling 
into her own pussy, easing the terrible fire which raged there, as she 
urgently fucked her pussy up to the other girl's beautiful young face. 

It seemed only a few minutes before the tide of wanton lust overwhelmed them 
both. Even as Bebe felt her loins quake and begin to gush hot, sweet cum 
into Maria's hotly sucking lips, the other girl climaxed, and her delicious 
secretions poured from the depths of her heaving pussy into Bebe's 
gluttonous mouth. In a moment of abstraction. Bebe realized then that a 
woman didn't cum the way a man did, in hot gushing spurts, but in a steady 
sweet flow of warm honey. It was something she'd never thought of before, as 
she eagerly licked at the silver river of nectar that streamed from the 
dark-haired girl's cunt and felt Maria's more experienced but no more eager 
tongue doing the same to her. 

Exhausted and satiated, the two girls lay nakedly together while the fiery 
passion subsided. Bebe's head was whirling and she didn't realize they had 
been discovered until she heard a voice say, "Well, ain't they sweet 
together!" 

Dazedly, she raised her cum-smeared face and focused her glazed eyes on 
Fargo in the doorway. All of his teenage friends crowded behind him for a 
better look, their hot eyes glowing in excitement. 

"Shit! That's Bebe Randolph!" one exclaimed. "Fargo's been fucking Bebe 
Randolph!" 

"What's good enough for Fargo Gonzales is good enough for us, hey?" another 
said, and they surged into the room, grabbing for both suddenly terrified 
girls. Another said, "I'm gonna see if that mouth sucks a prick as good as 
it sings!" 

"Oh shit, oh damn!" Maria swore softly. She knew with one glassy-eyed look 
that they were stoned and drunk, and this was one helluva lot more than 
she'd bargained for. She'd wanted to put Bebe down, help Fargo get her set 
up-but not this. She'd been gang-banged by this bunch before, and it was a 
bad scene. She could take it, but she was afraid it would kill Bebe. 

But the Gonzales boy was quicker and not as drunk as the others. He got 
between them and the girls, and suddenly he had a gun in his hand. 

"Which one of you motherfuckers wants to get burned first?" he said coolly. 

That stopped them. It was rumored that Fargo had used a gun before. As they 
muttered threats, he said, "We'll fuck both of them that's what we're here 
for. No sense to fucking beat-up cunt. Dig?" 

His buddies were not about to argue with a gun, and what Fargo said made 
sense to them. Both girls were scared shitless. They could be fucked all 
night, over and over, all kinds of ways. They muttered agreement, and Fargo 
put the gun away. He went to the bed and looked down at the cowering Bebe. 

"Hang loose, honey. You'll dig it. And then you'll really be one of us. Just 
do what I say, huh?" 

"Yes, Fargo," Bebe said abjectly. 

"That's better. Now turn on your belly and get up on your knees and elbows. 
I'm gonna fuck you in the asshole!" 

"Oh my God!" the startled honey-haired singer cried out. It was unthinkable! 
How had she ever let herself be drawn into such a vile situation? Dear God, 
wasn't there a way to escape? Looking at their lust-contorted faces, she 
knew it was hopeless. She could only submit, but pleaded weakly with Fargo, 
"Not there! Please!" 

"Listen, these guys wanta see you get it up the ass. If I do it, you know 
I'll slip it to you easy. Ask Maria. I get it into her asshole so smooth she 
hardly feels it, and then she can't get enough. Now if I let somebody like 
Bervo that's the big guy with the dumb face do it to you, he'll split your 
asshole wide open. He's hung like a mule. Right, Berv?" 

"You betcha fuckin' ass," Bervo said, and to prove it opened his fly and 
drew out the most enormous penis Bebe had ever imagined. Even Maria gasped 
at the size of it, and the massive balls which hung heavy with semen at its 
base. "You loosen her asshole up, and I'll get it in." 

"Better do like I tell you," Fargo said as he quickly stripped and stood 
naked over the cowering recording artist. His virile young cock that she had 
loved so much stood hard and thick, throbbing inches from her glazed eyes. 
She wanted his beautiful penis, despite the awful humiliation of the 
circumstances; but in her cunt, not her virginal anus! Yet she could tell 
that was how it would be. Tears welled from her eyes as, like a robot, she 
knelt subserviently on the bed as directed and spread her knees wide. 

"Wider-and get your pretty ass up higher," Fargo said curtly as he climbed 
up behind her submissively kneeling figure, his strong young thighs prying 
between her own until she thought the tendons would tear loose. His deft 
hands stroked her fearfully trembling body and reached under her heaving 
torso to cup and squeeze the soft mounds of her breasts. She steeled herself 
for the first cruel contact with the blood-swollen head of his thick penis 
against her tiny rectal opening. 

But it wasn't his cock that she felt first, but the slithering wetness of 
his tongue lancing moist fire down the center of her spine, and against her 
will the blonde recording star gasped with sudden arousal. His hot mouth 
teasingly moved lower, then lost contact for a minute, only to glue itself 
tightly to the distended lips of her aroused cunt. "Ooooohhh!!" she moaned 
in unwilling pleasure as his tongue darted up and down the sensitive fleshy 
slit and then speared deep into the heated depths of her cuntal channel, 
probing expertly. She gasped and screwed her loins back hard to his handsome 
young face and began to rock on hands and knees, already being brought to an 
orgasm. Her pussy had never felt so hotly aroused before, and now she 
realized there must have been something in the drinks. Well, whatever it 
was, if it could make her feel like this, she wanted more of it. 

"Fargo!" Bebe pleaded. "Somebody get me another drink. I'm on fire!" 

Somebody brought one, in a tall glass, frigid with ice. Even as her wildly 
throbbing pussy was being licked, the kneeling blonde woman drank it down 
eagerly. 

From that point on, she didn't care what happened. All she wanted was long 
hard cocks any way she could get them. And there was no doubt her desires 
would be fulfilled, because now all the other teenagers were stripped naked, 
waving and stroking their throbbing staffs. She saw one, a thin boy of about 
sixteen, beckon to Maria Without any sign of emotion, the beautiful Mexican 
girl knelt in front of him and began licking and sucking, her cheeks 
hollowing ans swelling as she worked on his adolescent loins. 

Suddenly Fargo's tongue slid from her cunt and was rimming the tight rubbery 
rose of her anus again. Bebe sighed and tried to spread her splayed 
ass-cheeks even wider as the tip of his tongue penetrated the forbidden 
depths of her rectal passage. She was caught up in the lewd obscenity of the 
moment-they could do anything they wanted with her, just as long as they did 
something-FAST! 

"Fuck me! Fuck me there, Fargo!" she pleaded. 

"You betcha sweet ass! Screw back when you feel it!" 

Then the soft-cushioned head of his iron-hard penis was pressing warmly 
against the wet puckering ring of her tiny anus, and Bebe gasped when she 
realized how big his cock really was! It could never fit into her there. She 
tried to squirm away, but his strong young hands grabbed her hips and held 
her helpless as he pressed relentlessly forward, painfully stretching her 
resistant anal muscle. 

"Aaauuugghhh ... oohhhh...." the blonde singer groaned. 

"Relax, damn it, so I can get it in!" he grunted, and the flat of his hand 
cracked painfully across the straining flesh of her nakedly upraised 
buttocks. Bebe cried out in shock, but the slap accomplished its purpose. 
For a second her tightly clenched buttocks muscles relaxed, and suddenly his 
mushroom-shaped cock-head stretched her wide and popped inside the puckering 
anal ring, firmly wedged in place up inside her tight rectal opening. 

"Oh, damn," she groaned, sure his virile young penis was going to kill her. 
The beautiful blonde vocalist hung her head docilely and waited for the full 
impalement, but it didn't come immediately, or even begin for several more 
moments. Fargo remained immobile, crouched above her with just the tip of 
his long thick cock in her straining rectum. Bebe found her body adjusting 
to the unnatural presence and her anal ring slowly opening in hunger. It was 
she who made the first move to get more f his wonderfully hardened penis, 
slowly rocking back and forth, beginning to swing her milk-white hips from 
side to side. She felt his virile rod of flesh gradually sinking into her 
cringing anal passage, hurting but in some strange masochistic way also 
feeling good, and she heard herself whisper, "Deeper, Fargo. Fuck deeper in 
me!" 

His strong young back corded as he began to thrust up into her hot rectal 
depths, with a steady rhythm. The movement, the inexorable drilling up into 
her tightly puckered anus started the pain again, enough to bring tears to 
Bebe's eyes, but the sensation was so wild, so overwhelming that she could 
stand the pain. Gritting her teeth, the kneeling blonde singer began to 
lewdly rotate her naked buttocks, feeling his hot pulsating hardness going 
deeper and deeper into her widely-stretched anus with each circular motion. 
It felt as though a baseball bat were being hammered into her-and the 
teenager was being so damn slow about it he was driving her crazy! 

"For God's sake," she cried out in frustration. "Fuck me! Fuck my ass, 
Fargo!" 

And when he complied, she screamed, and her cry was one of exaltation and 
agony. With one vicious lunge he rammed to his full depth into her distended 
anus, so hard he toppled the blonde recording star forward onto her face and 
her nakedly full breasts were flattened on the mattress ... now the 
sensation had changed no longer a baseball bat, now it felt like a red-hot 
bar of steel had been jammed up into her rectum. 

"Eeeeyyyaaazzhhh!!!" she screamed again, her golden hair tossing as her head 
flailed from side to side and she tried to escape the punishing shaft of 
virile flesh. But the teenager's weight came down hard and heavy, pinning 
her, and she could only lie still, sobbing until her painfully stretched 
rectum again began to adjust to the brutal invasion. 

"Up and we'll fuck, Bebe," he said into her ear, while his hands were 
pulling her up to her knees and elbows again. "Just fuck up to me like it 
was your cunt." 

Completely subjugated, the blonde-tressed beauty tried to obey. In a mirror 
she caught a glimpse of the slender Chicano youth poised behind her, the 
long thick shaft of his manhood buried almost to the hilt in her defenseless 
anal opening. Experimentally she swayed and rocked, and was surprised that 
it felt so good to have him moving in her rectum. She began to churn her 
taut young buttocks, back against him as he slowly fucked in and out of her 
lewdly-stretched anus. With each thrusting lunge, she grunted, feeling 
diminishing pain, and finally, the first sweet surges of pleasure. His hot 
throbbing penis was sliding in and out of her taut anal passage like a 
well-greased wagon shaft now, his sperm-heavy balls smacking wetly and 
flattening against her splayed ass-cheeks with every stroke, and it seemed 
his lust-swollen cock-tip was ramming almost up to her throat from behind. 
Abruptly there was no more pain, only wild, sensual pleasure, much of which 
came from the lewd spectacle she knew she presented to the obscenely 
watching boys and Maria. 

If only my millions of fans could see me right now! Bebe thought momentarily 
in wry amusement as she ground her naked hips urgently back toward her 
fifteen year old lover's loins, trying to draw Fargo's virile young penis 
even deeper into her tightly-clutching anus. The blonde singing star 
realized she was an eager participant in what she had always thought was the 
vilest, most obscene of all possible acts, and she abruptly amended her 
former conservative point of view, adding, It is until you try it! 

Like straight fucking, she supposed, the first time must be the hardest. 
After that you're not up tight. As if to confirm this guess, she saw Maria 
kneel on the far end of the bed and reach back to pull her perfectly molded 
ass-cheeks wide apart while the monster boy Bervo got behind her and, with 
one smooth stroke, slid his huge penis fully into her puckering little anus 
without any preliminaries such as licking it or sucking her pussy. And Maria 
didn't even blink, just began to fuck wildly back on the massively pummeling 
rod of flesh. Well, what Maria could do, I can do just as well, if not 
better, Bebe vowed, and wantonly began to churn her fleshy ass-cheeks and 
hump back at the long invading penis ramming up into her anal channel, 
glorying in the reaming she was absorbing. 

"Damn! You're gonna kill me with that tight-little asshole," Fargo cried 
out. 

"You wanted my ass!" she screamed in lewdly mounting passion as the Spnaish 
Fly and her own heated desires broke through her last barriers of 
respectability. "Now fuck it, or get out of the way for someone who will!" 

"Up yours, Bebe baby," he retorted and wildly rammed the full length of his 
throbbing cock into her steaming rectal depths, buffeting her without mercy. 

"I-I'm cuuuummming!" she began to whimper, then cry and scream as the great 
torrent of thick juices flowed from her flexing cunt-lips to coat her thighs 
and his smacking testicles. "Oh, Fargo! Hammer it to me! Fill my ass with 
your hot prick! Cum, darling! I want to feel you cumming in meeee!!" 

Savagely he drilled his long rampant hardness into her convulsively 
puckering anal opening. She felt his thick pulsing penis swelling until it 
seemed like the huge rubbery knob at the end of his pillaging staff would 
burst. And then the hot squirting of his cum began to fill her yearning 
rectum, coating its already-slick walls and the thickness of his 
jackhammering rod of flesh. His fingers bit cruelly into the soft flesh of 
her wantonly-waving buttocks as thick streams of his semen squirted out 
around the base of his deeply-planted penis and streamed down her sweating 
legs to puddle obscenely on the sheets. 

Completely spent, Bebe collapsed, belly down and panting, as Fargo slowly 
pulled out of her trembling ass-cheeks, his softening cock making a wet 
squishing sound and bringing with it long strings of thickening white cum 
which trailed across her spasmodically-clenching buttocks. Another of the 
boys wanted to take her immediately, but Fargo stopped him, saying she had 
to have some rest and another drink. 

She was grateful for the respite, although now thoroughly aroused, she 
wanted as much cock as she could get. Somebody brought her a drink and a 
lighted cigarette, and only after she puffed deeply did she realize it was 
marijuana. Hell, she thought, what's a little pot after all this? She took a 
deep hit as she had been taught to do and let the strong smoke fill her 
lungs and start her floating. They waited for the spiked drink and pot to 
take effect, and then another of the boys told her to get on her knees 
again. 

"Cool it," Fargo said, his voice hard. "Her asshole belongs to me. Fuck her 
straight or she can suck you." 

Although Fargo was younger and smaller than most of the others, he was 
without doubt the leader. He obviously carried the same qualities Bebe had 
noticed in his work down to the ghetto level. 

"Fuck my cunt," she begged, turning on her back and opening her legs in 
wide, lewd invitation. "My cunt is burning." 

A boy whose name she didn't even know immediately mounted her and thrust his 
hips forward, driving his eagerly pulsating cock up into her belly with one 
smooth stroke to fill her yearning cuntal cavity. Sighing in pleasure, she 
tightly wrapped arms and legs around him and began to fuck with all her 
nearly-insane strength. As she felt his rod of hard flesh pistoning in and 
out of her ecstatically quivering pussy, she wondered, Just what the hell is 
in those drinks? Whatever it was didn't matter now. It worked! It worked 
beautifully! 

And everything was beautiful until the shrill blast of a police whistle 
seemed to shatter walls and windows. 

Like a scene in a movie theater when something goes wrong with the projector 
and all action stops with the actors in strange positions, everyone froze. 
Nothing moved except cocks instantly going soft. 

Lieutenant Dalt Edwards and Sergeant Ken Hanson were dressed entirely in 
black. Tight-fitting jeans, rubber-soled shoes, turtleneck sweaters, bush 
jackets and jaunty black berets. They had ugly black guns in their fists 
too. They had come up ropes and over rooftops. 

"Up against the wall, motherfuckers," Edwards said with a gesture of his 
stubby .357 Magnum Smith and Wesson. "Climb and spread 'em!" 

"Where the hell would any of them hide a piece, Dalt?" his partner asked, 
grinning, his eyes moving to take in the two naked and obviously fucked-out 
women. 

"Who are you cock-suckers?" Fargo said defiantly. 

"We're Polack cat burglars, boy," the lieutenant said. "We just went into 
business tonight, and already we swiped two hundred cats. Now we've come for 
your pussy. MOVE!" 

The boys -lined up, spread-eagled and trembling against the wall. As the 
sergeant covered him, Dalt Edwards shook the room down. He found Fargo's gun 
and slipped it into a pocket. He found a half lid of prime grass and 
confiscated that. 

"You want to call anybody?" his partner asked. 

"No point," the lieutenant said. "We'll handle this ourselves. Herd these 
bastards out in the living room where we can work." 

The now-terrified teenagers meekly moved ahead of the gun into the living 
room. Their nakedness, in contrast to the sinister black garb of the 
intruders, stole from what little courage they had. 

Bebe and Maria were made to come also. The boys were -lined up along the 
front wall, and the women told to sit on the sofa. The sergeant put his gun 
away and the lieutenant handed him his own revolver. He studied his captives 
through the smoked glasses effected by bike cops, picking Fargo out. 

"You," he said, his voice cutting like a chain saw. "You smartass punk! You 
think you can fuck around with a girl who means millions of dollars to big 
people? You dumb shit! I've got an open contract on you. But I won't kill 
you. I'll just make you wish I would. Then when you get out of the hospital, 
you can tell your buddies how groovy it is to fuck up a million-dollar 
talent-until you get caught." 

Without another word the big, rangy cop picked Fargo up with one hand by the 
hair of his head. He held him a full foot off the floor and began to work 
him over with his gloved left hand, slapping and digging with stiffened 
fingers, not using a clenched fist. He was an expert. There would be no 
permanent marks, but it would be weeks before Fargo Gonzales would walk 
upright or go more than hour without having to urinate in great pain. The 
lieutenant's strong arm might have been the boom of a crane as for more than 
five minutes he held the screaming, pleading boy in the air and his left 
hand blurred with the swift violence of his punishment. When he dropped him, 
Fargo curled into a ball and cried like a baby. 

Bebe had screamed in protest at first, and then subsided, knowing she could 
do nothing. 

Maria Fuentes showed no emotion, and felt none. Fargo had gotten too big for 
his boots, and now he was paying. She knew the violence of the ghetto. The 
big guy was hardly giving him a spanking by those standards. He was lucky 
they didn't break his neck and stuff him down the nearest manhole cover. 

Lieutenant Dalt Edwards was by no means finished. He had merely warmed up 
had flexed his iron-hard muscles. He looked at the remaining half-dozen 
cowering boys. 

"The odds are about right," he said in a soft voice. "I am going to beat the 
living shit out of all of you at once. Anything goes. Get with it!" 

He hit the first boy in line, Bervo, before the hulking teenager could get 
his hands up. His fist went straight to the overlarge nose, flattening it, 
making blood spurt. As Bervo cried out in pain and covered his face, the 
lieutenant kicked him in the balls. As the boy doubled over, a rabbit punch 
to the back of the neck dropped him like a stone. The whole thing took less 
than three ticks of a clock. 

From that point on, it was a case of trying to catch them before they could 
run naked from the room. They piled up in the doorway and the black-clad 
lieutenant was all over the squirming, screaming tangle of teenagers, and it 
was over almost before it really got started. Had they rallied and faced 
him, they could have overcome him by sheer weight of numbers, but they were 
totally disorganized and he was an avenging, wrathful angel. Only a few 
pieces of furniture got broken, and there was surprisingly little blood. 

"You, chica," he said to Maria. "Collect whatever clothes these pachucos had 
and see they get into them and to hell out of here." He pointed at Bebe. 
"You get your ass in the bedroom and wait." 

Completely cowed, the two women did as they were told. In a few minutes the 
boys, one helping another, were dressed and limping and crawling away, 
thoroughly convinced they had gotten into something far above their heads. 

Bebe and Maria did not think to cover their own nakedness. They were still 
too shocked by the sudden turn of events, and neither could account for the 
sudden appearance of the two black-clad men. Bebe knew the agency would use 
drastic measures when it had to, but her dilliance with Fargo certainly 
wasn't worth this! 

"Who are you?" she whispered as the two brawny men came into the bedroom. 
"Did Matt Matthers send you?" 

"I sent me," Lieutenant Dalt Edwards said as he produced his identification 
and badge. "This is a private raid. I don't think any of those punks is 
going to beef. You were headed for hell in a hand basket, Bebe, and your ass 
is too pretty for what was ahead of you. You could beef me for this but I 
doubt you will. The D.A. would have to bust you too." 

"I know you now!" she said in awe. "You're the bike cop. You took my Citroen 
for a spin!" 

"And you chased me on my own CHP bike," the youthful cop said with a grin. 
"I've got a BMW you might get jollies from." 

"I know I should thank you," Bebe murmured. "But did you have to be so-so 
brutal?" 

"The only language they understand," the big, rangy cop said. "If you don't 
believe, ask the senorita." 

"It's true, Bebe," Maria said. "You went to the zoo and played with the 
young tigers. Matt Dillon here came along before they chewed your throat 
out." She glanced at Sgt. Hanson, lifted an eyebrow interestedly, and added, 
"I guess this must be Festus, Marshall Dillon." 

"Ken Hanson," the other said, grinning. 

"Well, score one for the guys in the white hats," Bebe said, quickly 
regaining her poise. "What now?" 

"We're no different than any other guys," Dalt Edwards said. "We like to 
fuck." 

Well, Bebe told herself, there's always a price to pay. They were handsome 
and virile young men. And she still had the terrible burning need in her 
pussy from the spiked drinks. She knew that if she went out of the apartment 
now it would be to the nearest bar or drive-in where she would wantonly 
offer herself to the first thing that looked like it had a cock, regardless 
of what it entailed. 

"I need to be fucked," she admitted. "I feel messy-you know? Let me clean 
up." 

"Me, too," Maria said. 

They went into the bathroom, quickly filled the tub and got into it 
together, soaping and washing each other. At the mere touch of the other 
girl's hands, Bebe became overwhelmingly aroused. 

"Damn, you do need cock," Maria said as she teased the long out-thrusting 
nipples of Bebe's heaving breasts. "The Spanish Fly really hit you." 

"Something did," Bebe moaned, wanting to be fondled. 

"We've got to bring you down," Maria said with authority born of experience. 
"The three of us at once." 

"Three of you!" Bebe gasped. She had never heard of such a thing. "How can 
you ever ... how can I ever...." 

"I'll show you," Maria promised, kissing her full on the mouth. 

Back in the bedroom, Maria held a quick, whispered conversation with the two 
now-naked cops. The lieutenant blinked at the proposal, but finally agreed 
that only an overwhelming experience would quench Bebe's internal fires. As 
though mesmerized, not sure just what was going to happen to her, Bebe 
allowed herself to be led to the bed. She looked hungrily at the lust-ready 
penises of the lieutenant and his sidekick, wanting them, needing them any 
way. She'd suck or fuck or spread her ass cheeks ... Anything! 

But it was Maria who took her first. Maria who drew her down to the bed and 
began kissing her and kneading her sensitive flesh, squeezing the firm 
roundness of her breasts and then her buttocks as her mouth closed on the 
aroused nipples. And then as the voluptuous blonde moaned in mounting desire 
and with the promise of ecstasy, Maria was moving lower, her hot, lashing 
tongue spearing into the dilating lips of Bebe's hotly pulsing cunt. Just 
the darting touch of it blurred the image of the two lewdly-grinning cops 
who were awaiting their cue. Bebe began to thrust her pussy forward in a 
lewd eagerness, rolling on the bed. 

Then strong hands were turning her on her side, and Maria was shifting to 
keep oral contact with her flaming genitals. She was aware of Dalt Edwards 
sliding into the bed, pressing his long, muscular body tight to her back. 
And then the hot pulsing tip of his cock was pressing between her quivering 
ass-cheeks as Maria's skilled fingers spread them wide. 

Bebe barely groaned as she felt the huge bulbous head shoving hard and then 
popping through the tightly-clenched ring of her anus. What she had guessed 
was right-the first time was the roughest! Now she wanted all his long cock 
up her rectal passage, and she humped back, trying to pull it deeper into 
her straining body. 

"Aaaaaauuuuuggggghhhhhh!!!" she moaned as the thick shaft slid upward, 
pushing waves of tender, resilient flesh before it. "It's so biiiiigggg!!!" 

"Hurting?" the cop asked, stopping for a moment. 

"Hurting ... nice hurting," Bebe mumbled, grinding her wide-stretched 
buttocks back. "Deeper ... fuck deeper!" 

He began to stroke into her, a fraction of an inch farther each time. It 
felt like somebody was shoving one of the giant Sequoia redwoods into her 
rectum, but Bebe wanted all of it, wanted to feel his heavy balls nestled in 
the crease of her ass-cheeks, have his thick virile shaft pounding in and 
out of her cruelly-stretched anus. 

And then, with a mighty lunge, the lieutenant sank his rampant spear of 
flesh to the hilt. Bebe screamed in shock, but her body responded, humping 
back to absorb all the rigid staff of flesh that threatened to rip her 
apart. 

She no longer cared, as she began to churn her hips wildly, feeling him ream 
and thrust in perfect rhythm, and his cum-heavy balls smacking the lips of 
her distended pussy even as Maria's soft mouth sucked on her clitoris and 
her tongue teased it wildly. 

"Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck meeee!" she chanted. 

Maria lifted her head, her dark curling hair tumbling over Bebe's quaking 
belly. 

"Bebe," she said softly, "it's only the beginning. Now we're going to 
sandwich you!" 

 CHAPTER SEVEN 

Bebe did not understand the term, but she didn't care. Anything they wanted 
to do with her was beautiful! 

Abruptly, Maria drew back, and into her place moved the sergeant, Hanson, 
his long thick cock rigid and throbbing with an undeniable virility. He 
pressed in tight against her belly as Dalt Edwards rammed wildly into her 
straining little anus. Suddenly she realized what Maria had meant by 
"sandwich". 

"I can't take both of you at once!" she protested. 

"Sure you can, Bebe. You'll love it, once they both get in," Maria assured 
her. 

Trembling in anticipation, Bebe allowed her long trembling legs to be spread 
wide. Buried deep in the hot buttery depths of her rectum, the lieutenant 
paused and waited for his partner to position himself. Bebe saw the 
blood-swollen head of his cock, and then it disappeared into the forest of 
her blonde pubic hair, and she felt it pushing into the dilated, fleshy 
folds of her cuntal lips. She was flowing wet, but didn't see how she could 
take it. But she was sure the lust-driven cop would get it into her somehow, 
if he had to cut her open! She whimpered in pain and fright as he jerked his 
hips forward and his thick fleshy rod of flesh penetrated the outer lips of 
her vagina and centered on the opening of her cuntal channel. In abject 
resignation, she closed her eyes and awaited her fate. 

"Now!" the lieutenant said. "Fuck her!" 

Like a torpedo, his long rigid maleness plowed up into the very depths of 
her futilely clenching cunt. Bebe screamed at the top of her lungs as she 
felt it tear into her, with only the thin membrane of her vaginal and rectal 
passages separating it from the hot pulsing penis already deeply buried in 
her lewdly-stretched rectal passage. The two men locked their arms around 
her nakedly squirming body and held her immobile as she sobbed, and then 
gradually her tears ceased as she felt her violated young body stretching, 
adjusting to the dual impalement. 

"In and out," the lieutenant said with a grin. "A one, and a two, and a 
three and FUCK HER!!!!" 

They began thrusting their thick rigid cocks in and out of her tightly 
clasping cunt and anus in perfect rhythm. Bebe could feel the virile staffs 
rubbing against each other deep in her belly. They began slowly, and then 
speeded their pace, never missing a beat. She was buffeted between them like 
a tennis ball, feeling Edwards' hard-muscled belly smack against the soft 
curves of her buttocks and then the sergeant's bony pelvis ramming hard 
against her vaginal mound. 

"Aaaaasuuuuuggghhhh ... 'Toooohhhhhh!!!" she cried, but the fucking went on 
relentlessly, one long hard cock ramming into her as the other withdrew, 
only to plunge again into the steaming depths of her trembling loins. Soon, 
the naked young blonde reached a peak where pain turned to pleasure, and her 
sensually quivering body wildly responded to the obscene double penetration, 
and she began to gasp, "Oooooh, gooood! Fuck! Both of you fuck hard! Get 
your pricks way up in me! Fuck ... FUCK MEEEEEEEE!!!!" 

The lust-crazed blonde could never have imagined anything like this. It 
wasn't the love she had vainly sought with Fargo Gonzales. Now she realized 
she wasn't programmed for love. She was built to fuck! To be violated, 
humiliated, used by men! That was what she needed! Only through being 
completely subjugated could she find pleasure. 

And now Maria was moving in again, kissing her breasts, chewing and sucking 
the nipples, arousing her to an even higher peak. When Maria shifted, 
pushing the sergeant's muscular torso out of the way and lowered her 
dark-haired cunt over Bebe's gaping mouth, Bebe urgently speared her tongue 
into the sweetly heated depths. 

Furiously the four figures strained, each giving and taking wildly. Her face 
smothered with the wet softness of Maria's pussy, Bebe Randolph felt herself 
cumming, and began to fuck with her cunt and ass and tongue, wanting them 
all to cum together. 

She suddenly succeeded. She felt the two hotly throbbing cocks slam in 
unison up into her heaving belly and spurt their heated loads of sperm into 
her yearning body just as her own orgasm rippled like a killer-quake through 
her ecstatically trembling pussy. At the same moment her mouth was filled 
with the honeyed fluids flowing from Maria's convulsing young cunt. She 
swallowed in an unending delight as her deep vaginal and rectal muscles 
milked the two men dry. Finally, they lay panting together in a wild tangle 
of arms and legs and bodies. 

Somebody-Bebe was never sure who passed around cigarettes and then made 
coffee, which was laced with brandy. They sat naked, their bodies smelling 
strongly of passion, and drank and smoked. 

Nobody mentioned Fargo Gonzales and his friends. 

* * * 

Something had filtered back to the agency. Matt Matthers called Bebe in and 
began to pry. He wanted to know about Fargo. Bebe had taken an interest in 
the boy, and suddenly he wasn't on the job. How come? 

"Fuck off," Bebe said. "None of your business." 

"Oh, it's that way," the agent said, lewdly knowingly. "I wondered if you 
had something going with the kid." 

"You wonder too damn much. You just see that I sell records and get the TV 
spots and leave Fargo to me," she shot back. "If that kid worked at it, he'd 
have your job in five years. And you can scrub the combo. I'm going solo." 

She strode from the plush fiftieth floor office and punched the hot Citroen 
hard all the way to Santa Barbara, her mind only half on her driving. 

Bebe Randolph felt she had a bill to pay, and she didn't know how to do it. 
She would have to tap the lieutenant's methodical cop mind, and he was 
waiting for her at home as he had been off and on for three wonderfully 
erotic weeks now. 

"My head's fucked," she announced as she entered the big, remote house to 
find him with a bourbon-and-branch in hand, critically watching the progress 
of a prime rib roast that was turning over the open fire. In the kitchen, 
vegetables were cooking and he was baking brown bread. It had amazed Bebe to 
discover the tough cop loved to bake. "How long is that hunk of steer going 
to take?" 

"About an hour," he replied. 

"We've got time to fuck ... I need to pick your brain." 

In less than a minute, she was on the big bed and he was on her, deep in 
her, his thick throbbing cock surging into her softly yielding cunt. He 
brought her up and up and up until her pussy exploded and blew the bad scene 
at the agency out of her mind. Then she could talk. 

She put it together piece by piece, trying to make him understand, but the 
lieutenant couldn't at first. 

"You want to chuck it and go solo. Okay! That's a bummer group they stuck 
you with. But to get mixed up with that spick kid again ... Jesus, honey!" 

"I am not going to 'get mixed up with that spick kid again,' lover," she 
said firmly. "But I-I owe him. And Maria. I mean, I was really fucked up. It 
was rough, but they got me moving, and then you came along and now it's 
cool. I mean that. You're great for me!" 

She paused, staring out the window, and began again. You taught that boy a 
hell of a lesson. He is going to be one well-behaved hound dog. But Dalt, 
he's had a hell of a lousy life. He wants to get ahead, and so he tried to 
use me. The only thing he knew how to do. Damn it, I need somebody to tote 
and carry, and the devil you know is better than the devil you don't know. 
Agreed?" 

"Can't argue with that." He had found he could never argue successfully with 
Bebe Randolph. She could beat him to death with her tongue. And he'd run a 
hard check on the kid and found that he was clean. He'd kept his mouth shut 
about being thrashed, and nobody else had beefed. Finally he said, "It's 
your life. I can't live it for you." 

"And I couldn't live yours," she said. "You and I ... we take what we can 
and run. I wouldn't ask you to stop being a cop for me. That would cut your 
nuts off. We've got a good thing this way. I'd like to see it stay this way 
with us until...." She shrugged. "We've got a good thing." 

"We sure as hell have," he agreed, looking down at his now-shrunken penis. 
"That roast should be done. Hungry?" 

Between them they ate almost the entire four-pound prime rib, and then the 
lieutenant mounted his white BMW and gunned it down the coast highway toward 
L.A. He had command of the night watch out of Van Nuys. 

Bebe Randolph watched the red spark of his taillight disappear and waited a 
half hour before going to the phone. 

She dialed the number from memory, and did not identify herself when she 
heard Fargo Gonzales' voice. 

"I need a stage manager, baby. Come see me ... and make sure you bring 
Maria." 

She hung up and from a hidden alcove took a kilo of genuine Acapulco Gold, a 
small machine sold by the Bugler tobacco people, several folders of Zig-Zag 
wheat paper, and began rolling numbers. 

What the hell! If she had to live two lives, then she might as well get the 
most out of each.... 


THE END
