The Diary Of A Cock-Loving Daughter
by Unknown


FOREWORD 

I had just barely gotten rid of Eddy, when the doorbell buzzed. I buzzed 
back, allowing my visitors to enter the building, and then quickly set about 
getting myself ready for the little party that Mrs. O'Tets had arranged. 

I peeled off the simple, cotton dress, to reveal my tight, black under 
garments, and pulled up on my silk stockings, making sure they fit perfectly 
to the smooth contours of my legs. 

Then, I could hear the door being opened, and soon the four horny business 
men came walking into the plush living room. 

"Take a look at that bitch," sighed one of the executives. 

He and the others simply stared at my body for awhile, appreciating my 
narrow waist, long legs, round, firm tits and flat tummy. 

"Don't you men think you should do something more than just look?" I asked 
them, "After all, you paid good money for this evening." 

That brought them to action, and they crowded around me and forced me to my 
knees. In a second, there was a cock sticking out in front of me, and it was 
rudely shoved into my mouth. 

As I sucked dick, I watched the other men pulling out their peckers, and 
getting ready for the hot night ahead. 

 CHAPTER ONE 

I guess that my story should start with a brief description of myself. 

I'm in my early twenties, though I look younger, due to the fact that I'm 
petite and act a bit giddy at times. I have curly, brown hair, which I keep 
short to display my pretty face. 

My lush, red lips and big, watery eyes are usually the center of attraction 
when a man looks at my face, but my body isn't bad either. I'm thin, lithe, 
with not an ounce of flab on my belly, thighs or legs. 

My breasts are a good size, though not abnormal, like Dolly Parton's. They 
sit nice and high and round on my chest, and I have a pair of perky nipples 
that just won't quit I mean to say, they're always erect. 

That's why during non-working hours, I wear a slightly padded bra, so that 
my nipples won't stick out and give anyone the wrong impression. Of course, 
when I'm working, I have a flimsy bra I put on, or I go topless. 

My business is ... well, I guess a call girl would be the best way to 
describe it, though I never get any phone calls asking for my services. That 
would be indiscreet. 

You see, I'm not actually a call girl, though men do pay for my services. 
I'm just sort of their instant date, one willing to get right to the heavy 
stuff without all the head games. 

Maybe I should start at the beginning, and that would mean Mrs. O'Tets. 

Mrs. O'Tets is the small, withered old lady that lives in the apartment 
underneath us. "Us" is my father, Dern, and me. My name's Margie. Anyway, as 
soon as we moved in, Mrs. O'Tets started to come visit us. 

The first day, she brought a cake, and we were delighted to accept both her 
gift and her friendship. I guess it's because the three of us are sort of 
alone. 

You see, Mrs. O'Tets never got married, and my father is a widower. My 
mother died a few years after I was born. I'm an only child, and I've grown 
up with no mother and no brothers or sisters to care for. So, you see, the 
three of us are pretty lonely. 

But after awhile, Mrs. O'Tets was adopted by us, or maybe we were adopted by 
her. I'm not really sure, but however it happened, we became a family, and 
Mrs. O'Tets became not only my missing mother, but my confidant as well. 

I found, to my great surprise, that I could tell her everything, my likes, 
my dislikes, my hopes, my fears-everything. I could even talk to her about 
sex! 

And that was something I had wanted to talk to somebody about for a long 
time. I mean, I could talk to my father, sort of, but he always got tense 
when we started talking about sex, and fucking and petting and all that. 

He used to say, "Oh, Margie, a little girl shouldn't talk like that. It's 
not right for a little girl to know about sex and how to make a baby so 
early in life. And after all, you are my little girl." 

At the time, I was nineteen, and was still a virgin. 

It wasn't that I was abnormal or anything, it's just that ... well, how far 
could you go with a guy when your father was still referring to you as a 
"little girl?" 

And that's exactly what I told Mrs. O'Tets. 

"... after all, you are my little girl," I concluded, making my voice sound 
just like my father's, high, sniveling, and with that Boston accent of his. 

"Bullshit," snorted Mrs. O'Tets, as she rocked back and forth in her rocker 
and methodically worked on her knitting. 

"Bullshit," she repeated, I guess for emphasis. "You're nobody's little girl 
any more. You're a grown woman, and should be treated like one." 

"What do you mean?" I asked, drawing closer to her. 

"I mean you should get laid already," replied Mrs. O'Tets. 

She was never one to mince words. That was one of the things I liked about 
her. 

"You should have a nice, hard cock rammed up that tight little pussy of 
yours, before it's all withered and dried out, like mine," said the old 
woman. 

"But how can I go about doing that?" I asked, "I don't know any boys." 

Mrs. O'Tets smiled, and patted my small hand with hers. I could see how 
gnarled and withered she was, like a piece of wood that had been weathered 
for ages. 

"Let me take care of that," she smiled. "You come back here tomorrow night, 
after dinner, and I'll have a surprise for you." 

"Oh, thank you!" I beamed, throwing my arms around her frail shoulders and 
giving her a big hug and kiss. 

"But remember," said Mrs. O'Tets, as I left, "make sure you bathe and set 
your hair and put on some make-up. I want to be proud of you." 

"Oh, I will, I will!" I exclaimed, as I all but danced around her room. 

All the way down the hall, I was smiling and giggling, and when I got to the 
elevator, the elevator operator looked at me like I was drunk or something. 
He sort of cowered in the corner and his eyes got a little wider. 

I must say right here and now, that Willy, the elevator operator, was like a 
character out of an old movie. He was black, and he acted exactly like all 
the black stereotypes that I had seen in the old movies. 

I mean, he had big, bulging eyes, wide, loose lips, and was thin and had 
tightly cut hair. But mostly, it was his attitude towards people that added 
to his impression of a scared Negro. 

His eyes would get wide when he got scared, or confused, and his voice 
wavered up and down in scale. I had even seen him begin to shake when he had 
some mean looking passengers in the elevator. 

It was as if he had studied all of the bad habits that blacks had in the old 
comedies and incorporated them into his personality. I could hardly ride on 
the elevator with him without laughing. 

One thing I loved to do was make him nervous, because it was such a pisser 
to see his eyes bulge and his knees shake. And it was very simple to shake 
him, all I had to do was make believe I was coming on to him. 

I guess he thought it was still a crime for a black man and white woman to 
fool around. 

"Hi, Willy," I said as I got in. 

I was still smiling, and he must have thought I was a little drunk. He 
shrank into the corner of the cube and closed the doors. The instant he did 
so, I boldly moved right up next to him, so that my firm, young body was 
pressing against his. 

"Now stop that, Miss Margie," he would moan, his body already beginning to 
shake in fear. 

"Stop what?" I asked, as I leaned against him even more. 

I knew that by now, he could feel my soft breasts crushed against his arm, 
and he could feel my warm breath on his neck. 

But that wasn't enough for me. I knew that I only had a little time, for we 
only had to go one floor, and so I got to it. 

"Ohh, Willy," I moaned, still rubbing against him, "I have such a terrible 
itch. It just won't go away." by this time, Will was crushed between the 
wall and me, and his eyes were almost all white. 

"It's right down here," I told him, and placed my hand on my crotch, "and no 
matter how much I scratch it, it just won't go away." 

As I said this, I began to rub my cunt through my dress, and I could see 
Willy's eyes swell, until they seemed ready to pop from their sockets. 

"Do you think you can help me?" I asked him, in a little girl's voice. 

"Oh, Lord, Miss Margie," he moaned, "Please stop dat. Supposin' your father 
saw you like dis?" 

I grinned, and then the elevator came to a halt. Willy somehow managed to 
wriggle free, and when the doors finally opened, I was ready to walk out, 
while Willy mopped his face with his handkerchief "Margie, is that you?" 
Called my father from the bathroom. 

"Yes, dad." 

"How is Mrs. O'Tets?" he asked me. 

"She's fine." 

I walked into the bathroom, and watched my father trim his moustache. He had 
one of those pencil thin ones on his lip, and each and everyday, he took 
care of it, making sure it looked just right. 

"Did you thank her for the sweater she made me?" he asked, never taking his 
eyes off of his reflection for a second. 

"Yes," I answered. 

Now he was doing his hair, combing it back briskly with his brushes, 
fluffing up the front just a bit. You see, my father was starting to go 
bald. That is, he had a widow's-peak, and his hair was thinning out, but he 
didn't have a bald spot 'or anything like that. 

I told him that he shouldn't brush his hair straight back like he did, 
because it only pronounced his problem, but he replied, "That's the way I've 
always done it, and I don't see any reason to stop now." 

Next he went to his eyebrows, making sure even those tiny hairs were in 
place, and finally, he was done. 

My father spent more time in the bathroom than anyone I had ever known, but 
I must admit that he did look good due to it. He was greying, but he had 
white "hair at his temples, making him look very distinguished and worldly. 

His face looked its age, but there were no wrinkles, and his thin moustache 
gave him a dashing 'look. He looked like some sort of casanova. But that was 
far from the truth. 

Dad was, to put it bluntly, an old stick in the mud. He did not like going 
out, though he could have easily afforded it-he is vice-president of a large 
company-and he never chased women around. 

In fact, I had only seen him with six women since mother had died. He was 
meek, easily rattled, but his worst trait was that voice of his. 

"The chef has made dinner for us, Margie," he said, "are you hungry?" 

"Dad," I said, "Where were you born?" 

"Why, California, angel, you know that." 

"And where did you grow up?" 

"New York, mostly," he replied, getting into his dinner jacket. 

"Then why is it you speak with a Boston accent?" I asked him. 

"Now Margie," he replied, "Don't make fun of your father. You know I went to 
Harvard, and most everyone spoke like that there. I just sort of picked it 
up." 

Well, the rest of that night seemed to drag by, and so did the following 
day. I could hardly wait to go down and visit Mrs. O'Tets again. As I soaked 
in the tub, I rubbed my throbbing pussy, and tried to imagine what it would 
be like to fuck. 

I thought it would be real nice, and as my fingers stroked my outer cunt 
lips in the warm water, I knew I was right. I could clearly picture a nice, 
fat, erect cock in front of me, as I sat in the tub and fiddled with myself. 
It was red, bright red, almost fire engine red, and it was all smooth and 
shiny. 

I could even see the dark, bulbous veins covering it, and it seemed to 
pulse, like a heart, as I watched it. 

In the meantime, of course, my fingers were making my cunt feel real good. I 
had splayed the outer cunt lips by this time, and my supple digits were 
beginning to move deeper into my vulva. 

I was all hot and puffy inside, from just thinking about a hard cock, and my 
fingers seemed too small in my hole. I wiggled them about, and at the same 
time, placed my thumb over my clit and began to rub it. 

"Mmmmmm," I sighed. 

My fingers were moving faster now, and the cock in my dreams was moving 
also, in and out of my pussy. Stroke after stroke, the cock slid into me, 
possessing no body, not even a pair of balls. It was simply a long, hard 
piston of meat that was there to satisfy me. 

My clit was red hot now, and as I fingered it, my fantasy fucking grew 
wilder and wilder. Finally, I pressed the hot button, and the rockets took 
off. 

"Uhhhhh," I grunted as I came. 

My cunt walls spasmed about my finger, and my sweet love juice mixed with 
the warm water. I was frozen in pleasure, and when my orgasm was finally 
over, I slumped back in the tub, and immersed myself in the soapy water. 

I did not linger for too long, however, and got out, dried myself, powdered 
my body and put on some of my best perfume. Not too much, just enough for 
him to notice if he got close. 

Then I slipped into my sexiest panties black ones that are almost 
transparent-and put on a matching bra. I wished that I had had a sexier 
dress, too, but that would come later. 

When I was all done, I appraised myself in the mirror. 

"Excellent," I decided. 

My hair was just right, my face perfect, dress attractively tight across my 
bust, and hugging my hips and ass just enough. Even in a simple dress, I 
still looked appealing. 

"Dad," I said, sticking my head into the living room," I'm going to see Mrs. 
O'Tets. We're going to play 'Old Maid' for awhile, so don't expect me up too 
soon." 

"Alright, dear," he replied, "Have a nice time, but don't bother Mrs. 
O'Tets. You know how feeble she is." 

He was working on some business papers, and didn't even look up as he said 
this, and I quickly scooted out of the apartment and to the elevator. 

When Willy saw me, I could see the sweat beginning to break out on his dark 
forehead. He knew I looked especially good, and once inside the cube, he 
could smell the faint odor of my perfume, as my aroused body heat made it 
evaporate. 

I paid no attention to him, for I had other matters on my mind, but I could 
feel his eyes following the sway of my hips as I walked down the hall from 
the elevator to Mrs. O'Tets' apartment. 

He did not close the elevator doors until I was entering the old woman's 
home. 

"Margie," smiled the woman, giving me a healthy-hug, and kiss on the cheek. 
Her wrinkled lips felt funny on my warm skin, but I liked it. "I hope you're 
all ready for tonight, because I really lucked out." 

"Is he here already?" I asked. 

"Inside," she replied, nodding towards the living room. "Haven't changed 
your mind, have you?" 

"No, not at all," I told her. 

"Then come along," she said, taking my hand, "We haven't got all night." 

I wet my lips as she took me into the other room, and introduced me to the 
man seated on her couch. 

"Bill, this is Margie," she said, "Margie, this is Bill." 

"Glad to meet you," I said. 

"Charmed," he replied, as he glanced at my face, and checked out my body as 
well. 

"I've made some drinks for us," said Mrs. O'Tets, "and some snacks as well." 

There were black olives, raw oysters and other foods that were supposed to 
enhance the sexual urge, as well as a pitcher of Martinis. 

"But I don't drink," I protested, as she poured me a large glassful. 

"Tonight, you better," she replied. "Now drink up." 

I put the glass to my lips, as did Bill, and took a sip. 

The clear drink scorched my throat and seemed to burn my insides as well, 
and I felt a surge of warmth came over me. I then tried to take the glass 
from my lips, but Mrs. O'Tets held it in place. 

"Drink it all," she insisted. "There, that's better." 

Then she poured Bill and me another, and I drank that as well. by now, Bill 
had moved closer to me on the couch, and I abruptly noticed that he had 
placed his hand on my knee. I was shocked, but I didn't do anything, due to 
the combination of the booze and Mrs. O'Tets' presence. 

We talked, and all the time, his hand was riding higher and higher or my 
leg, pulling up my dress along with it. In a matter of a few remarks, both 
of my tapered legs were exposed, and the hem of my dress was getting 
dangerously near the bottom of my panties. 

I wasn't talking now, just watching Bill's hand as it stroked my exposed 
legs, dipping between my thighs, and gently nudging them apart. It felt so 
good, to have his hands stroking my tender flesh, and as he did so, the 
liquor seemed to be settling in the pit of my stomach, and radiating heat 
out to all parts of my body, particularly my nipples and clit. 

No one was talking anymore, I realized, all three of us were watching the 
hand playing along my legs, as I spread my legs farther and farther apart. 
Now my dress was bunched up about my crotch, and my black panties were 
clearly visible. 

And that meant that my pubic mound was visible as well. The thin material of 
my briefs out-lined the mound clearly, and Bill's fingers were getting 
closer to my virginal mound. 

"Uh," I gasped, as he finally touched my muff. 

It had not hurt, but felt as if a surge of wonderful flame had gone through 
my cunt. Then he began fingering my slit, pushing the material up into it, 
and rubbing over my clit. 

"Ohhh," I sighed in passion, and I clung to Bill's muscular arm. 

"I think I have cookies in the oven that need attention," Mrs. O'Tets said 
suddenly, as my eyes closed, and I began to shiver. 

But before she left, she came over to me and whispered in my ear. 

"Don't worry, Margie, I'll be right near by, in case there are any problems, 
so you have nothing to fear." 

The old woman was not even out of the room before Bill had unzipped the back 
of my dress, and had a hand on my heaving chest. 

Now that we were alone, Bill moved even swifter than before, tugging down 
the front of my dress, yanking my bra down, and grabbing at my firm tits. At 
the same time, he had poked a finger up the leg opening of my panties, and 
was delving the tip of his finger into my twat. 

It felt like heaven. It was much better than fingering myself. 

"Strip," I heard him whispering to me, "Strip." 

Somehow, with his help, I managed to get my dress off. I was really feeling 
the Martinis now, and this was no minor feat. Then Bill undid my bra, and 
yanked my panties down and oil of me. 

I felt myself being pushed forward, and when I opened my eyes, I got my 
first look at a real, fully erect, man's cock. 

It was magnificent! 

I mean, how can I describe how I felt, looking at his stiff, throbbing 
organ. It was like my wildest dream come true, but this time, not only could 
I see the cock, but I could smell it and feel the heat issuing from it as 
well. 

"Suck it," he demanded. "Grrrrrrrrrr," I replied. 

I have to explain something, an odd little habit of mine. It seems that I 
make this funny little noise when I'm caught in a jam, or I'm on a spot. 
It's like I am constantly rolling an "R" in the back of my throat, and it 
sounds very strange when I make the noise. 

It drives my dad wild, as a matter-of-fact. He hates it. 

But right then, I could not hold it back, for the cock was so big, and I had 
never sucked on a dick before. I had never even held one in my hand. 

But I was resourceful, and horny as well, so I reached out with my slim, 
white fingers and grabbed a firm hold on his manhood, and parted my lips and 
lowered my head. 

I formed a perfect circle with my lips, and slowly brought them towards the 
man's dick. At first, I just breathed on it, but then I planted a few kisses 
on the mushroom head of the dick, and Bill moaned in pleasure. 

That really encouraged me, and I moved closer, little by little, until just 
the tip of the prick was between my lips. It felt good, all warm and spongy, 
and I slid more and more of it into my wet mouth. 

I'm glad Bill was a gentleman, and did not rush me, but then again, that was 
precisely why Mrs. O'Tets chose him. I really owe a lot to that old lady. 

Finally, I had most of it in my mouth, and I began to do as he requested, 
and started sucking it. I made believe I was a vacuum cleaner, and my cheeks 
hollowed as I drew the meat into my gullet. 

Bill was bucking about as I did so, so I knew that he was enjoying it, and I 
started to do more and more to his hot cock. I began licking the underside 
of his shaft with my tongue, and sliding my lips up and down along his cock. 

I also began to move my head back and forth, so that the cock was sort of 
screwing into my obliging mouth, and Bill really seemed to love this. Faster 
and faster, I bobbed my head up and down, blowing my first dick, and having 
a hell of a good time doing it. 

As I swallowed his meat, I began to wonder when he would climax. I knew men 
ejaculated semen when they came, and I wondered what it would taste like. 
But that night, I would not get a chance to find out. 

"Okay," grunted Bill, and he abruptly plucked his dick from my mouth, 
letting my saliva spill on his lap, and pushed me back on the couch. 

He pushed my legs apart, and I knew that this was it. 

I was going to be fucked! 

I must admit, that at that moment, I became terrified. I wanted him to stop, 
but I knew it was too late. Besides, Mrs. O'Tets was watching over me, and 
she wouldn't let anything bad happen to me. 

At the time, I did not know that Mrs. O'Tets was watching everything that 
was going on. She had seen the dick sinking into my mouth, and was about to 
see me lose my cherry as well. 

"Ohhh, nice and tight," sighed Bill, as he grabbed his dick and guided it 
into my twat. 

The first couple of inches were no problem, but then he got to my hymen. 
Luckily, it was thin, and with a quick thrust, I was deflowered. 

All I remember after that was moaning and crying like a crazy lady, as he 
slipped me his meat. Mrs. O'Tets said she had never seen anyone enjoy their 
first fucking so much, and she's seen plenty of virgins get it. 

When it was over, I lay in a dazed state of satisfied lust, and watched Bill 
pull the rubber off of his deflating dick. I don't know when he put it on, 
but I do know that Mrs. O'Tets had made sure he wore one, so that I would 
not become pregnant. She was also the one that took me to the doctor's 
office and helped me get an IUD. After Bill had cleaned himself off, and 
left, Mrs. O'Tets came in with a blanket and covered me. I was still 
shivering slightly from the excitement, and she gave me some coffee. 

"Mustn't let your father see you drunk," she smiled. 

I sipped the coffee, while Mrs. O'Tets talked about the terrific team we 
would be, and then I got dressed and prepared to leave. 

"Don't forget your money," said the bent old woman. 

"Money?" I queried. 

She handed me seventy-five dollars. 

"What's this for?" I asked. 

"Well, you certainly don't think I'd let him fuck you for nothing, do you?" 
she asked. 

"You're not a tramp." 

She then explained that we would always split fifty-fifty, and she'd let me 
know when to be ready the next time. 

From then on, there was no stopping us. 

But that had been three years ago, when I didn't know anything. Now I know 
it all, and the money I'm making is the best, as well as my clients being 
the best. Mrs. O'Tets has an uncanny sense of judgement, and always manages 
to get top price for me. 

But then things began to happen. 

It started with my meeting Eddy. 

Eddy is, for all intensive purposes, my boyfriend. It was really Mrs. 
O'Tets' idea that I should have a boyfriend. 

 CHAPTER TWO 

You see, Mrs. O'Tets believes very firmly in the old saying that there are 
two kind of women, the kind you fuck and the kind you marry, so even in the 
beginning, she began to make plans for my later life. 

"It's all well and good to fuck around with men and have a good time and 
make a lot of money," she said, "but you have to think about your later 
years also. You have to think about getting married and having a family and 
all of that. You don't want to end up an old spinster like me, do you?" 

"I think you're wonderful," I had told her. 

"But I don't have anyone to snuggle up to in the night," she replied, "I 
don't have a man to rely on when things get bad, and when I die, I'll die 
alone. No, Margie, you need a husband. 

"And to get a husband, a man who is going to really respect you and cherish 
you for the rest of your life, you can't screw around with him. You can't 
let him fuck you, and you can't even blow him. You mustn't let him think 
you're easy." 

"But why?" I asked. 

This was exactly the kind of talk that I could never have with my dad. 

"Because, Margie, a man wants his wife to be virginal. He wants a girl 
that's pure. Don't listen to all this crap about men no longer believing in 
all of that virginity shit. A man still wants a virgin! 

"So, you're going to be a virgin. You're going to be pure and sweet and 
innocent, so that you can land yourself a really nice, quiet man that won't 
demand too much from you and who will be loyal to you and support you the 
rest of your life." 

"But I can do that from the clients I have," I replied. 

"Only for a limited time," reminded the old lady, "Eventually, even your 
slim, juicy body will begin to age, and then you'll be all alone. Once 
you're married, you'll know there will always be someone there. And then you 
can start having affairs and getting a little extra money and excitement out 
of life. But hook that Mr. Right first." 

I thought about it a lot after that night. Mrs. O'Tets was never wrong, not 
about men at any rate, and her words carried a lot of weight with me. I 
began to start looking at strange men as potential suitors, but none of them 
seemed to be just right. 

I guess it's the old story of being in love with one's father. I wanted a 
man that was like my dad, undemanding, meek and wishy-washy, so we wouldn't 
have any problems when we got married. 

I met him a week later, under rather unusual circumstances. 

It was late afternoon, and I was in Mrs. O'Tets' apartment, giving head. I 
often worked in the afternoon, for dad was at work, and their seemed to be 
plenty of business men who wanted a quick piece of ass for lunch, or a 
blow-job before going home to the wife and kids at the end of the day. 

Anyway, I was in her apartment-I never used mine-and my soft lips were 
wrapped tightly about some executive's hot, stiff cock. He had a big one, 
and I was really enjoying it as I twisted my lips about the head, and sucked 
at it like a hungry child. 

It was all slippery and wet from the saliva dribbling out of my mouth, and 
it made it simple for my hand to slip up and down the mammoth shaft as I 
licked the rubbery head. I love sucking cock, and I was licking and slurping 
at this particular dick like it was candy. 

The man, whoever he was, was a gentleman, and did not shove my head down on 
his dick like other men did. There were times when I liked having a steaming 
dick forced into my mouth and down my throat, ignoring my gagging sounds, 
but right now, I was very happy to simply kneel there and suck at this hot 
pole. 

His dick felt so wonderful, so silky smooth in my hand, as my small fingers 
pumped away at it, rubbing my spit over every inch of the prick. I pointed 
my tongue into a hard little spear, and starting licking at the tight 
piss-slit at the end, and running it under and around the glans. 

This felt very good to the man, and he was beginning to groan and writhe on 
the couch as I did so. I knew that this was a sensitive spot for most men, 
and so I worked it over good. Mrs. O'Tets had often said I was one hell of a 
cocksucker, and she was right. 

It felt as if my lips had been formed to fit perfectly about the shaft of a 
lust engorged dick. 

Things were getting kind of heated now, and the room was filled with his 
grunts of pleasure and my loud slurping noises. I was no longer allowing the 
spit to dribble from my lips, as they were tightly clamped about his cock 
now, and I began to apply more suction to his twitching dick. 

I opened my eyes and looked up at him briefly, to see that his head was 
thrown back, and he was quite red. I stuffed my free hand into his pants and 
got hold of his balls, to find them as hard as two walnuts, and I knew he 
was getting ready to shoot his load. 

That, needless to say, sent a tingle into my pussy. My favorite part of 
sucking a cock was when it began to come, and I could hardly wait. 

But I was a professional, and did not hurry the job along simply because I 
wanted to taste some spunk on my tongue. No siree. I kept on lapping at him, 
and sucking, and beating on his meat, until he was almost going wild with 
passion. 

That was when I took a deep breath through my nose, and gulped down his 
cock. I slid my face forward, and kept gulping, allowing his entire dick to 
slither into my throat, until my wet lips were wrapped around the base-of 
his cock. 

He let out a loud gasp and looked down in pleasure. I opened my eyes as wide 
as I could, and looked up at him. I gave him my "Why are you stuffing this 
big, fat thing so deep into my throat" look. 

He took one look at my pleading expression, and I could feel his cock expand 
even more. It seemed to be glowing red hot in my mouth, and I knew what was 
coming. I rammed my head up and down his cock, shoving it deep into my 
gullet, and then slipping it back out until only my ruby lips were on it. 

His first jet of jism splashed past my tonsils on straight down my throat, 
but by then I had pulled back and was keeping just the head of the cock in 
my mouth, with my lips tight, so that not one drop of his sweet cream would 
be lost. 

He was really loaded, and there was plenty of scum blasting into my mouth, 
coating my tongue and covering the roof of my mouth as well. I did not 
swallow, though I was tempted to do so, until I had a nice, sweet load of 
his semen resting in my mouth. 

I was rolling it around in my mouth, as my tongue kept licking over the head 
of his dick, urging out every last drop of the love honey, when the doorbell 
rang. 

Ordinarily, that would not have been a problem, because Mrs. O'Tets would 
have answered it, but this afternoon, I was alone in her apartment. She had 
gone to the doctor's for a check-up, and I was alone in the apartment. She 
had made sure that only the men she knew very well had an appointment that 
day. 

The executive nearly jumped out of his three piece suit, and his dick 
instantly began deflating in my mouth. I nearly gulped his load down, but I 
kept my composure and allowed his dick to slip from my mouth, and then had 
the scum trickle down my throat, until it was all gone. 

"Excuse me for a moment," I said, always a good hostess. 

Then I pulled my robe closed and got off my knees and headed for the door. 
Mu tongue was swiping at the inside of my mouth, pulling the strands of scum 
from between my teeth, and cleaning it off the roof of my mouth. 

The bell rang again. 

"Coming!" I called. 

I thought that it was my next client, who had arrived early for some reason. 
Mrs. O'Tets always made sure to leave me plenty of time with my clients, so 
that they would never feel rushed. 

I pulled the robe completely closed, and peeked through the peephole, to 
make sure it wasn't my father. 

Standing outside, was a thin, young man, who looked extremely nervous, and 
perfectly harmless. I unlocked the door and opened it. 

"Hello," said the man, "My name is Eddy Rogers, and I'm selling these 
wonderful encyclopedias. Can I show you a copy?" 

I looked at the young man and judged him to be a year or two older than 
myself. He had reddish brown hair, a thin face, and bright blue eyes. All in 
all, he looked quite handsome, though he had the look of-a puppy that had 
just peed on a good rug. 

He was timid, uncertain and frightened, and at that moment, I saw the word, 
"husband" written across his face. 

"Come right in," I beamed, as I took his arm and brought him inside. 

Before he was even in the door, the scared executive charged past us and 
vanished down the hall. 

"TV repairman," I told Eddy. 

He looked over his shoulder then followed me into the living room. 

"You will have to excuse my appearance," I said, making sure the robe was 
closed all the way, so that I appeared very modest and proper, "but I was 
just taking a shower when the doorbell rang." 

"Oh, I'm sorry," said the redheaded man, "do you want me to leave?" 

"No, not at all," I replied, "Why don't you sit down and I'll get you some 
coffee. But I must tell you right now, I'm not the owner of this apartment. 
I'm watching it for a friend." 

"Oh, that's alright," he smiled, starting to unpack the case he was 
carrying. 

As I got him the coffee, I noticed the way he was looking at me, and I could 
tell that he was appreciating my thin, firm body. The thin robe made all of 
my curves pretty apparent, and I was glad to see that he was interested. 

I was tempted to give him my best blow job to get things rolling, but I 
recalled what Mrs. O'Tets had said, and did not. 

"This encyclopedia is the best on the market," he told me, as I handed him 
his coffee. "Not only do they cover every topic one could imagine, but 
seventy-five percent of the material is accompanied with pictures as well." 

I listened attentively, as he stumbled through his little speech, and it 
became clearer and clearer to me that this was the man. Eddy would make a 
perfect husband for me. He was sincere enough not to take advantage of me 
and dumb enough not to notice should I slip out to let some men work me 
over. 

Just as his pitch ended, the door opened and Mrs. O'Tets entered. 

"Margie," she said, "who is this. I don't recognize him." 

"This is Eddy Rogers," I said, "He sells encyclopedias." 

"Ohhhhh," smiled the old woman, realizing he was not a customer, "Pleased to 
meet you." 

"Let me help you inside," I said, taking the dear old girl's arm. 

There was no need to lead Mrs. O'Tets around, for she was fit as a bull, but 
I wanted to talk to her alone. 

"He's the one," I whispered excitedly, as soon as we were out of the room. 

"What one?" she asked. 

"My future husband," I replied. 

Mrs. O'Tets scowled at me and then looked back into the living room. 

Eddy smiled at her. 

She turned back to me. 

"It's a possibility," she replied. 

"Come talk with him, and you'll be certain," I said. 

We went back into the living room, and Eddy gave his pitch to Mrs. O'Tets. 

"You'll never sell anything like that," scowled Mrs. O'Tets. 

Eddy looked crushed. I mean, all the life seemed to go out of him. 

"I knew that," he admitted, as he began to pack his things into his carrying 
case. "I knew that this salesman job wasn't for me. I just knew it." 

"Is this what you do regularly?" asked the old woman. 

"No. This is my second day," said Eddy. "But I knew that I wasn't cut out 
for this. I'm not used to be pushy, and I'm afraid of strangers. You have to 
have charisma to do this sort of thing, and that's something I haven't got." 

"What did you do before this?" I asked. 

"Well, let's see," he said, "The day before yesterday, I was a short order 
cook But I didn't know how to make scrambled eggs. And at the beginning of 
the week, I was working in an office proofing books for a publisher, but I 
ended up correcting all the right words and missing the wrong ones, so I 
didn't last there very long. And before that...." 

"Have you ever held a steady job?" asked Mrs. O'Tets. 

"Why sure I have," replied the young man, swelling up with indignation. "I 
worked for three years as a junior executive for a clothing manufacturer." 

"Why'd you leave?" 

"Well ... I was tired of working for my father. I wanted to go out and 
conquer the world on my own." 

"Your father worked in the company?" I asked. 

"No, owned it," replied the redheaded man. Mrs. O'Tets face brightened as 
she heard this. 

"Are you married?" she asked. 

"No." 

"Engaged?" 

"No." 

"Have a girlfriend?" 

"No." 

"He's the one," stated Mrs. O'Tets. 

Eddy could not understand what she was talking about, of course, and then we 
both giggled. 

"Well," said Eddy, standing up to leave, "I'm sorry I wasted your time. I'll 
be leaving now." 

"Not so soon," replied Mrs. O'Tets. She took his arm, and led him into the 
kitchen. 

"Let me make you a little lunch," she said, "While Margie gets dressed, and 
then we can all get acquainted." 

After that afternoon, we began dating, and after each date I would go see 
Mrs. O'Tets, or call her up and tell her what happened. She was sure to ask 
me if he had tried to get a little ass, and for the first five dates, he 
hadn't. But on the sixth date, he got up his courage and made a move. I was 
eager to tell her all about it. 

"Well, did he try anything yet?" she asked over the phone. 

I brought my mouth close to the receiver, so that dad would not hear, for it 
was late, and I was in bed, and I didn't want him to hear what was being 
said. 

"Yes, finally," I stated. 

"About time," replied Mrs. O'Tets, "I was beginning to think he was gay. 
Well, what happened?" 

Eddy had picked me up after work-he was working in a clothing store as an 
assistant manager-and we went out for dinner. Though Eddy wasn't making much 
on his jobs, the allowance he was getting from his father until he found a 
job was quite generous, and we were able to go to a fancy restaurant. 

All during the meal, he had kept refilling my wine glass, and I began to 
think that something was up. I felt certain that he was trying to get me 
smashed. I went along with it, and downed every glass, for as Mrs. O'Tets 
had often remarked to me, "you must have a wooden leg," and the wine was not 
effecting me in the least. 

But I didn't let him know that. 

Finally, dinner was over, and he didn't even try to kiss me. I guess he was 
too scared, or maybe he was a gentleman. Anyway, we left the restaurant, and 
went to the park, where he took me on a ride in one of those horse and 
carraiges. 

It was very romantic, and as we drove around, with the cool night air 
sweeping over my body, and the food and wine making me feel all warm and 
wonderful inside, I leaned my head on his shoulder and looked up at the sky. 

Now, Mrs. O'Tets had warned me not to be too forward with Eddy, for he might 
think I was cheap, but I didn't think that was too aggressive. It just 
seemed like I was tired, and that the wine was beginning to take effect. 

As soon as I did this, Eddy put his arm around me, and pulled me close, 
until my soft breasts were crushed up against his chest. I opened my mouth 
slightly, my lips making an inviting, oval opening, and I closed my eyes, as 
if sleepy. 

That seemed to work, for after a few minutes of this, I felt Eddy's breath 
on my face and then he kissed me. It was just a short peck at first, but 
then he returned for a second kiss, and he lingered there a bit longer. 

I must admit, that he wasn't a bad kisser, and after a few seconds, I began 
to respond to him. My lips began to move against his, and I waited tensely 
for his tongue to enter my mouth. It did not. Not then at least. 

The ride was over, and he helped me up and got me into a cab. 

"Where are we going now?" I asked. 

"I thought maybe we could go over to my place for a drink," he said in 
feeble tones. 

"I'm really sorry," I replied, pressing my body close to his, "but I can't. 
I mean, it just isn't right. I hop you understand." 

"Oh ... Oh, of course I do," he stammered. 

He was silent then, and made no further protests, as I gave the cabby my 
address. In a short while, we pulled up in front of the building. 

"Well, goodnight," said Eddy. 

"How about coming up for a cup of coffee?" I asked him. 

His face immediately brightened up, and he paid the cabby and got out. 

"Hello, Miss Margie," said Willy as we got in. 

"Hi, Willy," said Eddy. They had become friends. "How are things?" 

"Quiet," replied the black man. "You two been out again tonight?" 

"That's right," I answered. 

"Well, enjoy yourselves," said Willy, letting us off on my floor. 

As I unlocked the door, I listened to see if dad was still up. I could not 
hear the television, nor his shuffling through papers, so I presumed he was 
asleep. 

"Make sure to be quiet," I told Eddy, "Dad's probably asleep." 

We went into the darkened apartment, but the minute I closed the door, dad 
called out. 

"Margie, is that you?" 

"Yes, dad," I replied. 

"How was that drip, Eddy?" asked my dad. 

He had hated Eddy the first time he met him. I think it was because the two 
of them were so much a like. 

"I'm just fine, Mr. Aldim," replied Eddy meekly. 

"Eddy, what are you doing here?" asked my father, coming out of his bedroom 
in his pajamas. 

"I invited Eddy in for a cup of coffee," I told my father. "Now go back to 
bed." 

"I just want to advise you not to try anything with my little Margie," said 
my dad, "Understand?" 

"Yes, Mr. Aldim," gulped eddy. 

"Dad," I bleated. 

He scowled and then went off to bed. In the meantime, I went into the 
kitchen and prepared some coffee, while Eddy sat on the couch. Now he was 
twice as nervous as before, and I tried to calm him down. 

"Don't worry about dad," I told him, "He always gets a little carried away. 
He still sees me as his little girl." 

"I've noticed." 

Soon, the coffee was done, and I sat down next to Eddy. 

The lights were low, and I put on the stereo very low, and we sat and 
talked. 

I could see that Eddy's full attention was not on the conversation, however. 
He was looking at my body. Or, what he could see of it. I was dressed in a 
pretty, but only slightly sexy manner. 

I was wearing a simple dress, that hugged my narrow waist, and was full and 
concealing on the bottom. The neckline did not reveal much of my chest, and 
did not even show any cleavage. Mrs. O'Tets had told me how to dress, and 
she had been very particular about giving off the wrong messages. 

But Eddy was gazing at my smooth, alabaster shoulders, and at the swell of 
my hips, and I could tell that he wished to see more. 

Why not? 

As I reached over for my coffee, I exhaled, and pushed my shoulders slightly 
forward, so that the front of the dress sagged forward a bit. This allowed 
him to see down the front of my dress, at least a bit, and he was able to 
see some of my cleavage and just the tops of my round tits. 

I could see that he had a reaction by the slight bulge that had formed in 
his pants. I felt like unzipping him right there and then, but I reminded 
myself that I was a good girl, and sipped my coffee. 

Soon, the conversation waned, as I had planned, and Eddy began to look 
longingly at my lips. Ever so slowly, he inched forward and then kissed me 
once again. This time, he lingered on my mouth, and after an appropriate 
time, I began to respond. 

We nibbled at each other's hot mouth, and in a while, I felt his tongue 
stroking my mouth, and opened a bit wider to allow him to shove it into me. 
He was kissing passionately now, out lips rubbing together, our tongues 
twisting and grabbing. 

I must admit, that I was getting very hot by this time, and my chest was 
beginning to heave. Eddy must have felt this, for he pressed himself even 
closer against me, and then I began to feel his hand move up along my side. 

I was shocked. I mean, I was really amazed that this jellyfish had enough 
nerve to touch me, especially after what my dad had said to him. But he was 
touching me, his hand moving up my hip, along my waist and to my chest, 
finally halting just below the hoisted jut of my tits. 

I was all but wriggling in passion, and could hardly wait to feel his hand 
on my tit. For awhile, it seemed that it would never happen. He kept kissing 
me lustfully, but his hand never moved. 

Just as I was about to give up hope, his fingers abruptly clamped onto my 
tit and squeezed. I was barely able to stifle my groan of pleasure, as I 
felt his digits digging into my pliant tit. 

He was really manhandling my boob, clutching and pawing at it, and in 
another moment, I felt his other hand on my knee, and rising fast. He was on 
my thigh, pushing up my dress, and then at my crotch, his hand w-edged 
between the soft, warm flesh of my thighs. 

I was surprised at his bold attack. I mean, here he was, with a hand up my 
dress, rubbing my pubis, and the other pulling down the front of my dress, 
trying to get a better feel of my tit. 

I just rested there, and allowed him to pull down the front of my dress. My 
nipples were rock hard now, and when he finally managed to get down my bra 
and grab the hard nub, it sent blasts of fire through out my body. 

He was rolling the puckered, rubbery pebble between his fingers, and at the 
same time, he was trying to shove a finger under the elastic leg-band of my 
panties. 

Then I knew it was time to stop him. 

"No!" I squealed, pulling my mouth from his, and grabbing his hand just as 
it was about to touch my pussy. 

"Eddy, stop," I moaned, "You mustn't." 

Eddy froze, and looked down at his arm, which was disappearing under my 
flowing dress, and his fingers, which were clamped around my dark, erect 
nipple. 

"I'm ... I'm sorry," he said, pulling his hands away, and straightening his 
tie. 

"I'm not that kind of girl," I told him, "I mean, I like you and all, Eddy, 
but I won't let you ... do those kinds of things to me. I'm saving myself 
for my husband." 

"Oh ... uh ... sure," he answered, as he watched me push my tit back into my 
bra and fix my dress, "I understand. I'm really sorry, Margie." 

I made believe I was pouting. 

"I won't do it again," he told me, "It's just that you looked so pretty 
tonight." 

"Well, thank you," I replied. 

"Can we ... can we still see each other?" he asked. 

"Okay," I said, after some hesitation. 

Mrs. O'Tets was very pleased with the way I had handled myself, and this was 
how I kept handling Eddy, for the last year and a half now, not letting him 
get anywhere, but letting him have just a little, a little more each time, 
so that he would not lose interest. 

Of course, I would never let him fuck me. 

"But what happens when we get married?" I asked Mrs. O'Tets one day. "He'll 
know I'm not a virgin then." 

"Don't worry about that," she replied 

"It's a little pellet that you insert into your cunt, and when the prick 
enters your vagina, it bursts the pellet, and it seems like you've lost your 
cherry. He'll never suspect a thing." 

"Mrs. O'Tets," I said, hugging the old lady, "you think of everything." 

 CHAPTER THREE 

It was about this time that dad met Hillary. 

She was a tall, sophisticated blonde that he had met through the office. He 
had handled one of her accounts, and she had become stuck on him. She was 
very pretty. I mean VERY pretty. She could have been a model or something, 
with her. tall, sleek body, and poised manner of moving. She was incredibly 
liquid and very sexy looking. 

Her face was like a statue's. That is to say, it was perfect. It was as 
though some artist had worked on her face for years, trying out this nose, 
and this eye, changing her ears, reworking her chin, until all of her 
features fit in perfect unison. 

She was beautiful, and very cultured, and she had this sultry type of 
sex-filled beauty that should drive my dad crazy. 

Anyway, she began to go out with dad, and hang out a lot at the apartment. I 
was very happy for dad, for I really liked Hillary, and she liked me too. 
She did not replace Mrs. O'Tets as my mother image, but she did talk with me 
about a lot of things. 

Including dad. 

"Margie, can I talk to you for a minute?" she asked me. 

We were alone at the time in the apartment. Dad was taking a shower and 
getting changed to go out to the theater, and as I mentioned, that could 
take hours. 

"Sure," I replied. 

"Well, Margie, it's about your father," she confessed. "I like Dern very 
much. He's kind, considerate, intelligent and good-looking." 

"But," I said, anticipating what she was going to say. 

"But," she repeated, "I wonder if he's still carrying a torch for your 
mother, his first wife. 

Is he?" she asked. 

"I don't think so," I answered. "He doesn't carry on about her or anything. 
He hasn't saved a lot of things from the time they were married. I'd say he 
was as adjusted to it as anyone else. Why do you ask?" 

Hillary hesitated for a moment, running her long, pink over her red lips. 

"Well," she said slowly, "the only reason I ask is because your father seems 
so ... distant. 

"What do you mean?" 

I was sure curious. Not only did I want to know what was going on with my 
dad, in general, I was especially interested in his sex life. It was 
something he was very silent about. A real man of mystery. 

Hillary was very reluctant to discuss it at first, but after a little she 
told me what the problem was. 

"Your father is a very charming man," she began, "He's very bright, and I'm 
sure you would agree, handsome. I always enjoy myself when I go out with 
him. 

"One of the things I liked best, as a matter-of-fact, was that he was such a 
gentlemen. He never got fresh, or tried to take advantage of me any of the 
times we went out." 

Then she paused for a while, as she thought about what she had to say next. 

"But, after we had been going out for a month, that became part of the 
problem. Your father never tried to get fresh with me. He never touched me 
anywhere he shouldn't, and I was the one that finally kissed him after ten 
dates!" 

I was shocked to learn that dad was even worse than Eddy. 

"He's never made a pass at me, never made any sort of sexual proposition, or 
anything," added Hillary. "At first, I thought it was me. I thought that 
maybe I was being too cold to your father, or giving him unconscious 
messages to keep away, but after awhile, I realized this just wasn't true. 

"That's when I began to wonder if there was something wrong. I thought maybe 
he was still hung up on your mother or something like that." 

"If he is, he's never given me any indication of it," I told Hillary. I must 
say, that dad is one of the world's meekest men, not at all aggressive, 
though he is kind and thoughtful." 

"Not aggressive is a nice way of putting it," pouted Hillary. 

"But I'm sure that he likes you," I quickly added. "He always talks about 
you, and constantly praises you. In fact, sometimes it gets a little on my 
nerves. He always asks me why I can't be quiet, like you, more reserved, 
like you, and more lady-like, like you." 

"Oh, Margie," laughed Hillary, "Don't let that get you down. You're still 
young, you should act the way you do. You should be a little crazy and 
wild." 

"Well, sometimes, I admit that I do go a little too far," I said, trying to 
be fair, "The time I was trying to send smoke signals from the terrace 
because dad had put locks on the phone because of the bills I was running 
up, and the firemen broke in and drenched the apartment in water was a bit 
much." 

"Yes," admitted Hillary, "Your father told me about that, but his insurance 
covered the damages." 

"But anyway, dad really likes you, and I think that you'll just have to try 
a bit harder, that's all." 

"That's exactly the opinion I've come to," the tall, blonde woman replied. 
"That's why I've worn this special evening dress. If this doesn't get to 
your father, I'm lost." 

Hillary stood up and twirled around slowly, showing off her lovely gown to 
me. My eyes almost popped out of my head, for her dress was the sexiest I 
had ever seen. 

It was your basic black, but it had a deep plunging front, allowing plenty 
of Hillary's cleavage to show, almost no back, and a slit up the side that 
ended on her hip. 

It was made of silk, or some other sheer, clinging material, and out-lined 
every curve of her body. And I mean out-lined. It made it quite clear that 
she was not wearing any bra which impressed me because her ample tits were 
still sticking straight out-and only had on a pair of skimpy panties. 

If Mrs. O'Tets had seen her, the old lady would have had a client waiting 
for her in five minutes. She was dazzling! 

"Wow!" was all I could say. 

"Oh, Margie, Hillary!" my dad called. 

He was just emerging from the bathroom, still fixing his tie, and pulling on 
his jacket. All dressed up, he looked really dazzling, and I must admit that 
he and Hillary made a striking pair. 

"Oh, Margie, where are my cufflinks?" he asked me in annoyance. 

"Right on your dresser where you always put them," I informed him. 

As dad scurried into his room, Hillary gave herself one more look in the 
mirror, making sure the gown was tight to her perfect body. 

"Wish me luck," she said. 

"Good luck." 

Dad came back, and Hillary took his arm, and the two of the left. I was glad 
because I had to be down at Mrs. O'Tets' soon for work. 

"My, my," said Willy, as dad and Hillary approached the elevator, "Don't you 
both look grand tooonight!" 

He was really appreciating Hillary's gown, because each time she walked, 
almost all of her long, lean leg was revealed, and her tits jiggled 
provocatively. 

The elevator door closed, and I could see beads of perspiration forming on 
Willy's face just before it did so. He was going to enjoy that ride. 

Now that they were gone, I got dressed and went to Mrs. O'Tets. 

"Margie, you're just in time, as always," said the dear old woman. 

"Now tonight we have something a little special for you, but we're making 
more than double what you usually get." 

"I was really impressed, for I was already making top dollar. I had been 
forced to open my own bank account because I was making so much money. 

"What do I have to do?" I asked, a bit nervously. 

Up till now, I had been asked to perform the usual sorts of services, 
getting fucked, giving head, and once in a while getting it up the ass, but 
this sounded a bit worse. 

"Well, it's really very simple," explained Mrs. O'Tets. "I've got an 
executive coming over. An old client, and he's bringing an out of town 
salesman with him. 

"He wants to show the salesman a good time, in other words get him laid, and 
at the same time, he wants to enjoy himself also." 

"You mean two men in a row?" I asked. 

"No, at the same time," she replied. 

"But Mrs. O'Tets," I began to protest, after all, I only had one cunt. 

"Now, now, Margie," smiled the old woman, "Don't be worried. It's really 
much simpler than you imagine. What will happen is that one man will take 
you on one end while the other takes the other end. 

"All you have to do is wiggle around a bit. And as a matter-of-fact, I feel 
certain that you will find it most stimulating. 

"The feeling of one man's hot, hard dick ramming in and out of you feels 
terrific, doesn't it?" 

"Yes," I smiled. 

"Then think how good two will feel at the same time." 

I figured that she was right, for she always was, though I was still not to 
happy about the idea of two cocks working their way into me. I didn't see 
how I would be able to concentrate on either one of them. 

I did not have much time to think about it, though, for the doorbell rang 
and Mrs. O'Tets let two men into the room. 

One of them I recognized to be the man I had been blowing when I had first 
met Eddy. He was always nice and calm and gentle, so I was realized to see 
him. And the man he had with him seemed polite, too, so I stopped worrying. 

"I'll leave you three alone now," said Mrs. O'Tets as always. She said it in 
such a warm, motherly fashion, and it always made everyone more relaxed. The 
executive started by pulling my face over to him and kissing me on the 
mouth. I liked the way he kissed, and I enjoyed his tongue slashing away at 
my lips. 

While he was doing this, the salesman moved to the other side of me on the 
large sofa, and I felt his hands going up under my skirt. He must have been 
really horny, for he went straight for my panties, and when he found them, 
he jerked them down, over my firm asscheeks and down my thighs and off me 
completely. 

Then he took his turn kissing me. He was much wetter and softer than the 
other man, and it was a lot like kissing over-ripe fruit, but he was paying 
for it so what did I care? 

At the same time, the two men had grasped my knees, and were spreading my 
legs apart between them, until I was literally splayed on the couch. I could 
feel the cool air rushing up my dress and over my thighs and then making my 
cunt tingle. 

My regular was kissing my neck, as the salesman kissed my mouth, and the two 
of them were slowly working their hands up my skirt. They had a hand on each 
leg, and it was a very pleasant, but odd, sensation to have two completely 
different hands on my body. 

The executive had smooth, sort of cold hands, that made me shiver as he ran 
his fingers up from my knee, along my thigh and towards my hole, while the 
salesman and soft, clammy hands, that sort of crept up my inner thigh like a 
wet tarantula. 

But they weren't content to be kissing me, and feeling up my legs, they also 
began to unbutton my blouse. I never wore a difficult blouse to remove, so 
in a flash, they were pulling it down off my shoulders and were throwing it 
onto the floor, right next to my panties. 

My bra was next, and then I really started to get worked over. 

I mean, I had had men that grabbed a lot, but this time I had four hands 
toying with my body, grabbing my tits and fingering my cunt. 

Yes, they had their fingers poking up into my slit, and I'm sure that they 
were very glad to find it wet and hot. It was strange to have two fingers 
jabbing into me, working at different speeds, pounding away at my pussy 
without mercy. 

Then, once I was really wet, they each stuck another finger in! Now I had 
four fingers slicing in and out of my twat. They could not hear my grunts of 
protest, of course, because they were taking turns kissing me. 

Just as I had one pair of fingers poking in and out of me, and then a 
different pair, the men were also taking turns in my mouth. First one would 
send his tongue searching down into my throat, and then the other would 
replace him, so that all I could do was take quick gasps of air, and fidget 
and twitch in their grasp. 

And they were not two men to neglect my pretty chest either. With their free 
hands, they were working over my jugs. Each one had a spongy boob in his 
hand, and each one was doing something different to my available tit flesh. 

The executive was massaging my firm meat, poking his fingers into it, 
kneading it as if it were dough. He shook the solid mound about, and I 
thrilled to the feel of it bouncing on my chest. 

The salesman, on the other hand, was more interested in my stiff, inch long 
nipples. He had my tit cupped in his hand, but his thumb and index finger 
had hold of my nipple. 

He was pinching it lustfully, and twisting it as he did so, and with each 
tug, I could feel my cunt spasming slightly in pleasure. Of course, each 
time he felt my cunt spasm, he fingered me harder and twisted and jerked on 
my nipple more, so that his actions were leading to a spiral of passion for 
me. 

It was really wild, as I felt my body seemingly torn between these two men, 
first enjoying one sensation, then having my attention captured by the 
manipulations of another man. 

It was wonderful. 

Mrs. O'Tets said, later, that I must have really been into enjoying getting 
worked over by two men, because I was thrashing about on the couch between 
them, and my body was all flushed from pleasure. 

She sometimes watched, to make sure everything was alright, and I'm glad she 
did. It was just another way that she showed how much she cared for me. 

Anyway, I was really getting hot between these two men, as they pulled and 
fingered and fondled me, and it took me a little while before I realized 
that I better get to work too. 

I reached out with my hands until I found their two crotches. There was a 
hot, jerking bulge in each of their pants, and I found the zippers and 
pulled them down. Then my small hands went fishing in their shorts, until I 
came up with two throbbing poles of meat. 

I grasped each one around the shaft, just under the head and squeezed. 

The two men groaned as one, and they did not move for an instant. Then they 
attacked my helpless body with renewed fierceness. 

My hands were not inactive, and I began to beat on both of the hefty dicks, 
thrilling to the feel of their love muscles twitching and jumping in my 
hands. Though I could not see them, I could tell that they were quite large 
and rock hard. They would really be able to drive them deep into my body, 
and I thought about it with a mixture of anticipation and dread. 

Up and down, my talented fingers flew, grasping harder and harder the fleshy 
poles, feeling the veins that covered them pump the blood back and forth to 
the engorged tip. 

Then, I guess they were ready, because they pulled away from my mouth, and I 
felt my body being lifted and thrown onto the richly carpeted floor. 

"On your knees," demanded the salesman. 

I got on all fours, and I felt him getting behind me. My skirt was still on, 
and he simply pushed it up and bundled it about my waist. Then he began to 
massage my white asscheeks, while the executive sat down in front of me. 

I felt like a female dog, getting ready to be fucked, but I knew that no 
canine had ever gotten it in both ends like I was going to. 

Finally, I felt the head of the salesman's dick press against my slit, and I 
had to moan. 

"Hot bitch," grunted the man. 

He began to rub the head back and forth along my sopping, inflamed slit, 
teasing me with it, poking it in just a little and then pulling it out. I 
tried to shove back on it, but the other man reached forward and grabbed me 
by my hanging tits and pulled me forward. 

"We'll tell you when," he informed me. 

They both laughed, and I could see that they were getting into the 
humiliating aspects of the scene. That was okay by me, since they were 
paying good money for their fun. 

"Should I let her have it now?" asked the salesman. 

"Oh, I don't know," replied the other, "Why not tease her a bit more first?" 

"Good idea," he replied. 

Then he took his cock head away and suddenly replaced it with his tongue. 

"Ohhhhh," I gasped, and began to squirm and wiggle against his darting, wet 
spear. 

It felt so good having the tongue ream itself into my hot cunt, and I 
wiggled my bottom around making sure he got all of the juicy places in my 
hole. I simply knelt there and let him eat me out, as my body was overcome 
with a series of convulsions. 

I was beginning to come, and the two men knew it. 

"Okay," said the executive, "Since you're getting a little oral treat, how 
about returning the favor." 

He, of course, was not asking, but telling, and I felt him lift my head up 
and position his crotch under my face. I looked down through lust fogged 
eyes to see his familiar organ poking up in front of me. I instantly 
recalled the vast quantity of sperm he held in his balls, and my mouth 
dropped down on the tube steak and I began sucking. 

It was hard for me to concentrate on the blow job I was giving while I was 
coming, but each time I stopped or slowed down the man would say, "Come on, 
slut, keep sucking. Do your job." 

That would snap be back to reality, and I would start blowing him again. 

Then I came, and I remember yelling in pleasure even with the dick in my 
throat. 

He pulled out then, and with my cunt dripping love dew and swaying in the 
air, the two men began slipping it to me. 

They took turns. First one of them would send his pulsing, rock-hard member 
into me, and really fuck me hard and fast for several minutes, then he would 
pull out, and almost instantly, the other guy's dick was buried deep inside 
my twat, banged away like wild. 

It got to the point that the men didn't even miss a beat when they switched 
from one cock to the other inside my burning hot hole. In this manner, they 
prevented themselves from coming, and at the same time, drove me wild with 
the non-stop fucking. 

It lasted for a hour. An hour of continuous fucking, deep and hard, their 
balls slapping against my body with each thrust. 

I was sort of whimpering now, in pleasure, and they had to hold my body 
steady as they porked me. 

Finally, they were ready for the main event, and the salesman took his 
position behind me and really started shafting me. Each plunge drove the 
head of his flaming cock into my back wall, and my entire body rocked in 
passion. 

But then my head was jerked up, and I saw the executive's dick once again. 
It wa all slick and gooey from my own cuntal juices, and he waved it in 
front of my face. 

I did not know if I was going to be able to take such a fierce fucking from 
both ends, and I merely stared at his huge cock in dismay. 

"Suck it," he ordered. 

"Grrrrrrrrr," I replied, and then he shoved forward. 

The cock flew past my lips and teeth and implanted itself deeply in my warm 
cavity. I began sucking automatically, like a baby, running my tongue up and 
down it at the same time. 

His dick felt so good in my mouth, so right, and I began to suck in earnest. 
I wanted to feel him dump his load into my mouth. 

But then I became aware of the cock ramming into my pussy again. It was a 
wild sensation to have a cock sliding in and out of my burning hole, while 
another one poked in and out of my responsive mouth as well. 

I had never felt so completely used in my life and it was great! 

Both of the cocks seemed determined to probe deeper than the other one, and 
for a while, my body was simply rocked back and forth between the two 
demanding pricks. 

Someone was feeling up my tits, too, and all of the feelings were making my 
head swim. I did not know what was happening. My body seemed to split in two 
as the twin cocks abused it, poking and ramming, forcing themselves into the 
deepest recesses of my cunt and throat. 

My cunt was actually beginning to ache from all of the action it had seen, 
and my lips were working feverishly on the dick in my mouth. 

"Faster," said the executive, "We want to come together." 

My head began to fly up and down the shaft, lapping at the mushroom head, 
and sucking until my lips were sore. 

Then I felt the first blast of hot semen in my cunt, and the salesman froze 
up, his cock buried in my twat, his fingers digging into my ass. He was 
pumping load after load of scum into my hole, making it all wet and sticky 
and nice. 

Meanwhile, between my lightning lips and swift fingers, I was able to coax 
the other man's wad of scum out of his prick and into my mouth. 

The sweet cream pounding against the roof of my mouth, making me feel 
light-headed and wonderful as I drank it all down. I loved the viscous 
feeling of it on my tongue. It was like honey, only hot and better tasting. 

I felt as if I were hollow inside, as the two dicks pumped into me, and that 
I would soon be filled with their jism, like a hot water bottle was filled 
with water. 

"Oh yeah," I heard one man sigh. 

Then I became aware of the fact that I was flat on my stomach on the floor, 
and both of them had pulled out of me. I could feel some spunk slowly 
dripping out of my poor cunt, and I could still taste the wonderful flavor 
of spunk in my mouth. 

"So, how was it?" asked Mrs. O'Tets. 

"Fabulous," said the salesman. "You got a hot piece of cunt there. That 
little bitch could do a gang of men." 

"She is the best," laughed Mrs. O'Tets. 

I heard the crackle of crisp new bills, then the two men left. 

"You were wonderful, Margie," announced Mrs. O'Tets once they were gone. 
"What a performance! Now get up and take a nice, hot shower." 

She helped me up, and I could feel the scum dribbling down my thigh as I 
went to the bathroom, removing my skirt as I did so. 

"Oh, dear," said Mrs. O'Tets, looking at some scum that had dripped out of 
me and onto the rug, "We'll have to get that up before it stains." 

 CHAPTER FOUR 

By the time I got back to the apartment, it was quite late. I had been 
really exhausted after the double-header, and had taken a little nap in Mrs. 
O'Tets' apartment. 

I only hoped that my dad and Hillary had stayed out late, of I would be in 
big trouble. When I got inside, it was dark, and I scurried to my room and 
closed the door. No sooner had I done so, when I heard the elevator stop on 
our floor, and then the door opened. 

I jumped into bed, still fully dressed, and pulled the covers up around me, 
so that only my head was visible. I had used that trick many times before, 
and it always worked. 

Sure enough, I could hear dad's squeaky shoes coming closer, and then the 
door opened a crack, and I knew he was looking in. 

"Ah, that's my little girl," he sighed, and then closed the door. 

I wasn't very sleepy anymore, but I got into my night gown and sat in bed. 
Then I got the idea of spying on my dad and Hillary. Well, it wasn't really 
spying. 

The conversation that the beautiful blonde and I had had earlier was still 
running through my mind, and I wanted to see exactly what the problem was. 

I snuck out of my room and crept towards the living room on all fours, like 
a commando behind enemy lines. There was only a dim glow from the living 
room, and when I was finally able to see inside, I found dad and Hillary 
sitting on the sofa, very close to each other, sipping martinis. 

"Yes, it was excellent," said my dad, "but it seemed a little too violent 
for me. I mean, there were so many deaths, and stabbings." 

"But it was 'Hamlet'. There are supposed to be a lot of deaths," replied 
Hillary. 

"I guess so," responded dad. 

Hillary finished her drink and poured another one for both her and my 
father, and I could see that she was really beginning to get smashed. 

She was leaning up against my father, and rubbing herself against him, but 
dad just kept moving away, until he ran into the arm of the sofa and was 
forced to stop. 

Hillary had her legs crossed, and the slit was wide open, allowing much of 
her legs to show. In fact, her crotch was just barely covered by the dress. 

I could see that dad noticed, but he pretended not to, and Hillary just kept 
crossing and uncrossing her legs, the sounds of her stockings making a sexy 
hissing noise as she did so. 

She had her head on father's chest now, and they were talking low, so 
quietly that I couldn't hear them. Then I realized that Hillary, due to the 
low-cut front of her dress, was giving dad a good peek at her melon-like 
boobs. 

He must have been able to see a lot, too, for his eyes were staring down the 
front of her dress for several minutes before he tore them loose. 

I felt certain that Hillary was planning the whole thing, and that she was 
well aware of what was happening. 

After she reclined on dad's chest for awhile, she sat up and grabbed her 
glass again. It was full, and as she brought it to her, it spilled. The 
martini splashed all over her lap, wetting her dress and her lovely, exposed 
legs. 

"Oh, now look what I've done," she snapped. "Would you be a dear, Dern, and 
clean it up please?" 

She handed him a napkin, and he just sat there for a moment. 

She certainly is smart, I thought to myself. To me, it was obvious that she 
had dropped the drink on purpose, to try and seduce dad, and I felt certain 
that it would work. 

Dad hesitantly reached out and began to pat at Hillary's knees with the 
napkin, but hardly any of the liquor had spilled there. Most of it was right 
on her crotch, and dad was going to have to get there sooner or later. 

"A bit higher, Dern, dear," instructed Hillary. 

I could see the look of happy anticipation on Hillary's face, but my dad 
could not see it because he was staring at her lovely legs. 

He dabbed briskly at her legs, moving up higher and higher on her thighs. He 
could see the wetness all over her legs and on her crotch as well. Soon, he 
was stroking her naked thighs with the napkin, and Hillary parted her legs 
wide. 

"Please get along the insides too, it's dripped down," she said. 

Dad didn't move for a second, but then, with his hand shaking slightly, he 
began to move between Hillary's legs. As I sat there and watched, I tried to 
imagine how wonderful it must have been to touch the blonde's inner thighs. 

I imagined that they were very smooth, like silk, and very soft. 

Dad seemed to be enjoying his task, for he was briskly dabbing away between 
her legs, stroking her inner thighs, as Hillary spread her legs further and 
further apart. 

It was rather obscene looking as a matter-of-fact. 

There was the graceful, blonde woman laying back on the couch, her eyes 
closed as if asleep, and her legs spread wide, with my father leaning 
forward, moving his hand over and over her milky thighs. 

I wondered if Dad was very aroused yet, and just how far this thing would 
go. I was hoping to see a little hard fucking before Hillary left. 

"Mmmmmmmm," Hillary moaned. "That's it, Dern, get my thighs, and then go 
higher, higher." 

Dad began to move upward, going to the very top of the slit in Hillary's 
dress, and then allowing his hand to disappear into the part of the gown 
that was not slit. 

"Higher," moaned Hillary. Dad looked at her face, to see her eyes closed in 
ecstasy, as she permitted him to touch her legs. His face was red, and his 
lips trembling slightly. I was not sure whether it was with passion or fear. 

At any rate, he finally pushed his hand up all the way, and an electric 
shock seemed to go through Hillary's body. 

"Ungh," she grunted. 

I could no longer see Dad's hand, but I could guess where it was. The damp 
napkin was probably pushed up against the blonde's even damper panties. 
Shortly, he would have his finger in her twat. 

"Damn," I whispered, wishing that I had a better view. 

Then, I saw the napkin drop out from between her legs and fall to the floor, 
but Dad's hand remained in place, as Hillary began to squirm on the couch. 
Now Dad was finally getting to the action. 

His hand was, undoubtedly, up under her panties and fingering her twat, or 
at least tickling the lips of her cunt. Hopefully, they'd be getting to 
heavier stuff soon. 

"Oh ... yes," cooed Hillary, unable to restrain herself any longer. "That's 
the way, Dern." 

I was really pissed, for all that I could see was the material of her gown 
moving apart, as my father toyed with her twat. 

"Take them off," Hillary pleaded. "Take them off, Dern." 

My dad did not respond at first. I mean he kept moving his hand about, and 
fingering her twat, but he made no effort to remove her damp briefs. 

"Please ... Dern ... take them off," she pleaded. 

Still he did not respond, and Hillary was forced to slip her own hands under 
her dress and yank her black panties off. I watched in lust as they dropped 
down to her knees and then slid down her shapely legs to her ankles, where 
they remained until she kicked them off. 

Now Hillary parted her legs really wide, so that Dad was able to crouch 
there and really do a job on her twat. His face was bright red now, and he 
was sweating profusely, as he worked between the lovely blonde's legs. 

It was then that Hillary reached out with one of her pale, graceful hands 
and groped Dad's crotch. 

The response was automatic. 

"No," blurted Dad, and he jumped up from the couch, pulling his fingers from 
Hillary's cunt. 

"What's the matter?" asked Hillary in frustration. 

"We ... we shouldn't be doing this," he replied. "It's not right." 

"Why not?" asked Hillary. 

"We ... we're not married. We hardly know each other. I'm sorry that I took 
advantage of you." 

"Dern," moaned Hillary, clinging to him as he stood shaking by the couch, 
"You didn't take advantage. I wanted it. I wanted you to touch me. As a 
matter-of-fact, I wanted you to fuck me tonight." 

"Hillary!" gasped my father. 

"There's nothing terrible in that," replied the lovely woman. 

"Yes, there is," he answered. 

"No," restated Hillary, "and there's nothing wrong in this either." 

Saying this, as she grasped my father's body, seated on the couch, she 
unzipped his fly and slipped her hand into his pants. 

I could see that Dad was perturbed, but he did not stop her, and in a 
second, she had pulled out his dick. To my surprise he was not erect. His 
dick was pale and shriveled, and Hillary took it in her long fingers and 
began to knead it gently. 

I could not see why he was not erect, after all of the pussy playing he had 
been doing in her cunt, but Hillary seemed determined to make it hard, so 
that he could shove it up her twat. 

As he stood there, still flushed, she leaned forward and took the limp cock 
in her mouth. 

I must admit that by this point, my cunt was wet also, and I began to finger 
my swollen clit as Hillary sucked on my dad's cock. Her bright red lips 
looked magnificent against the grey and black thatch of Dad's pubic hairs. 

I could see her cheeks hollowing as she blew him, obviously putting a great 
deal of suction and gusto into it. My fingers moved faster as her lips moved 
faster, and I wondered who was a better cocksucker, me or her. 

She had her hand inside my father's pants as well, and I had no doubts that 
she was fondling his balls as she blew him. After a few minutes of her 
greedy sucking, she pulled back and I was floored to see that Dad's cock was 
still limp. 

True, it was slightly erect now, but it was far from hard, and after the 
blow job Hillary was giving him I couldn't understand why. 

"I'm sorry, Hillary," whimpered my father, as he looked at his saliva 
covered dick and Hillary's wet lips. 

"But why Dem?" asked Hillary. 

"I don't want to discuss it," he replied, plucking his dick from her hands 
and putting it back in his pants. 

"But Dern, we must discuss it," said Hillary. 

"No," replied Dad, almost crying now. "I'll take you home." 

"Listen," said Hillary, getting a little mad, "you may not require any 
satisfaction, but I do. All of that fiddling with my cunt has got me burning 
hot and I need satisfaction." 

"But how can I?" asked my father. 

"Think of something, please," whimpered Hillary, as her hands went to her 
twat. 

My father looked about the room, just as I was doing, until both of us 
spotted the tennis racket lying on the table. 

Dad was a tennis buff, and was pretty good at it too. It kept him strong and 
healthy, and we often played sets together. 

Now his favorite racket was going to be used in a new game. 

He went over and got the racket and carried it back to his girlfriend. She 
was reclining on the sofa, rubbing her aching bush, but when she glimpsed 
the racket her eyes widened in fear. 

"Noooo," she gasped, "What do you think I am?" 

Dad did not answer, and gripping the head of the racket, drove the handle 
between Hillary's open legs. His serve must have been perfect, for Hillary 
flopped around on the couch, making little inarticulate grunts and groans, 
like a fish on a hook. 

Dad just looked at her, his face red and sweaty, and began moving the racket 
back and forth. As Hillary squirmed and twisted, her dress rode up to her 
waist, giving me an unimpeded view of her fucking. 

I could see that Dad only had a small part of the handle in her hot cunt, 
but as she wriggled, he shoved more and more of it up into her demanding 
twat. 

At the same time, I was shoving more and more of my finger up my hot twat, 
and I began to mimic the motion Dad was using on the blonde. 

He was going at a slow, easy rate, but he was sure to drive up a little more 
of the fat, leather bound handle into Hillary's cunt. The blonde was just 
lying on the sofa, as if stabbed by the handle, and allowing Dad to plow her 
with it. 

Eventually, all nine inches of handle were up her muff, and now Dad really 
began to sock it to her. He moved his arm fast, causing the handle to fire 
in and out of her cunt, like a wooden piston. 

It must have really been getting to Hillary, for she was twisting and 
turning, and biting her hand, and crying and whimpering. I could see the 
juicy lips of her cunt being forced in and out of her hole by the handle, 
and I wondered what it would feel like to have that done to me. 

Then Dad got really nasty. As he fucked the fat, long handle into her cunt, 
he began to turn it slowly, so that the wooden dildo was screwing in and out 
of her cunt as the same time it was fucking her. 

He twisted it completely around, and Hillary's eyes shot open and she stared 
down between her legs in disbelief. 

"Oh ... no, Dern ... oh, yes ... uh, yes, yes!" she yelled, as she submitted 
to his probing and screwing. 

I could imagine her cunt being twisted up inside, and then she began to 
shudder. 

"Oh, Dern, keep it up. Keep it up! I'm coming!" 

And she did. 

I could tell. She flopped about so wildly on the couch that one of her ample 
tits slipped out of her dress and spilled on her chest. I watched it dance 
and jiggle about as she came, her spasms keeping time with the grinding 
racket handle. 

And then it was over. 

Dad pulled the racket out and put it away, giving Hillary time to collect 
herself. She finally did, and slipped her tit back in her dress and pulled 
her panties back on. 

She looked angry, ashamed and sorry, all at the same time. 

"Dern...." she started to say. 

"Don't say anything," replied Dad, "Don't say anything." 

He led her to the door and showed her out, then went right to his room. I 
thought that I could hear him crying but I was not sure. 

That's when I went to bed, but I could not sleep. I just kept thinking about 
that sexy blonde getting screwed by a tennis racket, just because Dad 
couldn't get it up. 

Well, they had made love, so to speak The next morning, I had made breakfast 
for Dad, because I felt certain he would be in a poor mood. I was right. 

"Good morning, Dad," I beamed, giving him a big kiss. 

"Oh, hi, Margie," he whimpered. 

He sat down, and I poured him some delicious coffee. 

"Black, right Dad?" I asked. 

He nodded his head and took a sip. 

"Uh ... plenty of sugar and cream please," he said, handing me the cup. 

"Have a good night last night?" I asked, scraping his eggs off the pan and 
setting them down in front of him with his toast. 

"Oh, it was alright," he replied. "Listen, Margie, do you think Hillary 
likes me?" 

I couldn't understand how he could ask that after last night, but I answered 
"Of course." 

He didn't reply, just picked at the eggs and then got up. 

"I'd better get to the office early today," he stated glumly, "Mr. Honeypot 
has a big deal going. 

Mr. Honeypot was the president of the company in which Dad was 
vice-president, and he was a really demanding boss. 

"But Dad, don't you even want some toast?" I asked. 

"No thanks, dear," he said as he got his coat, "I don't like my toast 
black." 

He ambled off down the hall and I could not help feeling sorry for him, 
after all, who could he go to, to solve his sexual problem. 

"Mrs. O'Tets," I realized. 

I went down there as soon as I cleaned up breakfast. Mrs. O'Tets was still 
sipping her tea and munching her Zweiback and reading the latest issue of 
Screw magazine. 

"I'm telling you, Mrs. O'Tets, it was terrible," I said, concluding my 
story. 

"Yes, Margie," said the dear old lady, "that is not an uncommon problem 
among men your father's age. It's just that I didn't have him pegged for 
that. I thought he was still virile." 

"Oh, Mrs. O'Tets, I felt like crying when I saw that last night. Isn't there 
anything you can do for him?" ; 

I was surprised to find that the Zweibacks were not half bad, and I munched 
a second one. "Well, the first thing we have to determine is whether it is 
physical or psychological," said, "Then I can try to think of something to 
help. What do you think?" 

"Well, I'm not sure. I don't think it's physical, because Dad seems to 
healthy. He never goes to the doctor for anything other than his annual 
physical. I think it's psychological." 

"That's tough," replied the old woman. "That will be harder to cure. Then we 
have to find out what it is that prevents him from enjoying sex. Unless, of 
course, he's not having the kind of sex he enjoys." 

"But Hillary tried everything," I said, "letting him finger her cunt, 
blowing him...." 

"That's not what I mean. I mean that your father might be into some sort of 
sex that is different from what most people do. Has he ever shown any 
interest in little boys?" 

"If you're asking me if my father's gay, forget it," I quickly replied. I 
know he has a high voice and all, but he never showed any interest in men. I 
don't think that's the problem." 

"Well, maybe he's into enemas, or golden showers, or bondage. It could be 
most anything," said Mrs. O'Tets. 

"How can we find out what it is?" 

"Talk to him." 

"He would never talk about it," I told her assuredly. 

"Then I don't know what I can do." 

I went back to my apartment disappointed with Mrs. O'Tets for the first time 
since I had known her. I didn't even tease Willy, the elevator operator. I'm 
sure he was glad of that. 

I was sitting around for awhile, listening to some records, when the 
doorbell rang. I jumped up and ran to the door, assuming it was Mrs. O'Tets 
with some plan to help Dad, but to my surprise, it was Hillary. 

Her eyes were red, no doubt from crying, and she looked perturbed. 

"Margie, I'm so glad I found you at home," she said, "Can I talk to you for 
awhile?" 

"Of course, Hillary," I answered, "Come on in." 

We went inside and sat down. "Margie, remember last night when I said that I 
was going to try to get to your father?" 

"Yes," I said. 

"Well, I tried. I tried all night long, all during the play and all the way 
home in the cab. But then I went all out when we got home." 

I made believe I knew nothing, while she told me exactly what had happened 
that night. I sat there and listened to it all, until she was finished. 

"What should I do?" she asked. 

"Hillary, I really don't know what to say. I don't know what the problem is 
with Dad. What do you think?" 

"I ... I'm not sure what to think," replied the beautiful, stately woman. "I 
wish I had someone to talk to about it. I mean, I appreciate your listening 
to me, but you are so young, Margie." 

"Of course!" I said, "We'll go talk to Mrs. O'Tets." 

Hillary was not too keen on the idea. She had met Mrs. O'Tets several times, 
and though she thought she was a nice old lady, she did not feel like 
talking to her about something so personal. 

But I convinced her, and we were soon standing in front of Mrs. O'Tets' 
door. 

"Why, Margie," smiled the old lady, "And Hillary. Come in, come in." 

As soon as we were inside and comfortably seated in the living room, I told 
Mrs. O'Tets about Hillary's problem. She made believe that she knew nothing 
about it, and it wasn't long before we were all in a deep conversation. 

"Now I don't know what to think," said Hillary, almost on the verge of 
tears. "I don't know if it's something physically wrong with Dern, or a 
mental hang-up he has, or even if it's me. I thought that I was sure it 
wasn't me, but now I'm wondering about it again. Maybe I was too 
aggressive." 

I knew that something was brewing in Mrs. O'Tets mind by the way she was 
knitting. The more she thought about a problem, the faster she knitted, and 
she was knitting furiously now. 

"Well, my dear," she finally replied. "It might be you. That is a 
possibility." 

"But how can I know for sure?" asked Hillary. 

That was when I happened to glance up at the clock. 

"Yipes!" I exclaimed. "I'm late!" 

"Late?" repeated Mrs. O'Tets. 

"Yes," I answered, "I'm supposed to meet Eddy today for a picnic, and I'm 
late. I've got to run. Excuse me." 

"Go right ahead, Margie," smiled Mrs. O'Tets. "Hillary and I will stay here 
and talk. Maybe we can solve this problem together." 

"Good luck," I said, as I kissed the old woman on the cheek. 

I rushed for the elevator and jumped in. 

"Take me down to the lobby Willy, and hurry," I said. 

Willy closed the door and shrank away from me, but I was just in the right 
mood to really tease him. 

"Damn," I said with a scowl, "tennis can really hurt." 

"What ... what do you mean?" asked Willy. 

"Oh, Eddy and I played yesterday, and my legs are so sore from all that 
running. 

Saying this, I began to rub my leg, which was bad enough, but the worst part 
was the fact that I had pulled my dress up to do so, so that my shapely leg 
was naked for Willy to examine. 

I ran my fingers up and down the tapered limb, pushing my skirt up to just 
where my garters began, giving Willy a real thrill. At the same time, I 
moaned slightly, as if in pain, but possibly in pleasure also. 

Willy's eyes were wide, and he was beginning to shake. He watched me run my 
fingers up and down my luscious leg, yanking my skirt up higher and higher. 

"Oh, I need a man's strong fingers to massage my sore legs," I said, drawing 
closer. "Do you think you could help me?" 

"Now, Miss Margie, I doooon't think you should be doin' thiiis," he said, 
his voice rising and falling entire octaves as he spoke. 

I giggled, and put my leg right up against him, and grabbed one of his hands 
and placed it on my thigh, very high up, so he was mere inches from my 
crotch. "Please, Willy." 

I could feel his sweaty fingers on my smooth skin, and I could see he was 
wet with perspiration. Then the bell chimed, and I pulled my skirt down and 
stepped away from him, just as the doors swung open. 

Eddy was waiting outside for me, and I gave one more thought about poor 
Hillary before I stepped into the cab with him. It was not until later that 
I found exactly what happened in Mrs. O'Tets' room that afternoon. 

Later, the old lady told me the whole story, and I could not believe my 
ears, until she proved it to me. 

This is how it went. 

After I left, they kept talking about whether or not it was Hillary's fault 
that Dern was not turned on. Hillary confessed that she had not been with a 
man, sexually, for some time now, since her husband's untimely death. She 
was uncertain as to whether or not she was still sexually attractive. 

This sounded absurd to me, for it was obvious that she was a knock out, but 
Mrs. O'Tets told me that this was very common among widows in Hillary's age 
bracket. 

"Perhaps Dern would have been more attracted to you had you been wearing 
something different," suggested Mrs. O'Tets. 

"But I was wearing my sexiest evening gown," countered Hillary. "Ask Margie 
when she gets back. It looked great." 

"Evening gowns are all well and good," replied the old lady, "and I'm sure 
you looked fine, but sometimes well-to-do bachelors of Dern's age like a 
little bit more." 

"Like what?" asked Hillary. 

"Something in leather." 

"Leather?" 

"You know, a leather outfit-or some sort," replied the old lady. 

"I don't know what you're talking about," said Hillary flatly. 

"It is very fashionable nowadays," said O'Tets, "among well-to-do for the 
female to dress in panties and bras and corsets and other things made of 
leather." 

"Why would they want to do that?" asked Hillary. 

"For many reasons," stated the old woman. "First of all, the leather itself 
is very sensual, and the attire adds a certain spice to sex. Perhaps that is 
what Dern was missing. Perhaps Margie's mother used to dress in leather when 
she was with Dern." 

"I just can't imagine what a woman would look like in such attire," said 
Hillary. 

Mrs. O'Tets reached into her knitting bag and pulled out a magazine. 

"I got this in the mail yesterday," she said, handing the magazine to 
Hillary. "It was sent to occupant, and when I opened it, I was shocked to 
see this catalogue. I was saving to go down to the post office with it, to 
complain about such filth being sent in the mail, but I think it will 
illustrate what I'm talking about." 

Hillary took the catalogue and looked at the cover. 'Leather Goods' was all 
it said, but inside was an endless assortment of leather clothing, straps, 
harnesses, whips and the like which a person could send away for. 

Hillary was shocked to see that one could even charge the stuff on a credit 
card. 

She was at first repulsed by the leather bras with cut-away cups, high 
leather boots and the like, but soon she became more and more interested. 
This was a world of sexuality that she had never experienced before, and she 
had to admit, that she found it interesting. 

Most importantly, however, if this was what Dern was into, she wanted to 
know about it. 

Every once in a while, there was a picture of some tall, shapely woman 
wearing some of the clothing. Her tits poked through the bra, and her cunt 
showed, and sometimes she had a leather hood covering her head, or face, but 
Hillary had to admit that some things did look sexy on the model. 

Meanwhile, Mrs. O'Tets was talking about how this worked, and how this 
looked, and showing off the clothing. 

"Well, I don't know," said Hillary, unable to tear her eyes from the 
catalogue. She could not imagine how women could wear these things, let 
alone allow themselves to be photographed in the outfits. 

"I feel certain it would help," insisted the old lady, "and at the very 
least, it couldn't hurt." 

Hillary had to admit that that was true. She certainly couldn't turn off 
Dern anymore than she already had. 

"But I don't think I would look good in this kind of stuff," said Hillary. 

Mrs. O'Tets had put away the tea right after I had left, and the two of them 
had been drinking plum brandy all of this time. Well, actually, Hillary had 
been, because Mrs. O'Tets was merely sipping at hers, while she kept 
refilling the blonde's glass. 

So Hillary felt a little tired and dazed, because she had not eaten anything 
that day. I mention this because it played an important part in what 
happened next. I mean, Hillary never would have done what she did if she 
hadn't been a little tipsy. 

"There's only one way to find out," replied Mrs. O'Tets. 

Hillary looked at her, confused. 

"How," she asked. 

"Try some of the things on," replied the old woman. 

"I'm not going to go to some store and buy these things," said Hillary with 
a laugh. 

"You don't have to," said Mrs. O'Tets, "they also mailed me some samples, 
and I think they're just about your size. Why don't you try them on?" 

"You mean right now?" 

"Yes." 

"Here?" 

"I'll get them for you." 

Before the drunken blonde could object, Mrs. O'Tets scurried off and 
returned with the leather clothes. Actually, of course, the catalogue and 
garments were no accident. The dear old girl sold the things to some of our 
clients. 

It was just a little sideline that earned her some extra money. 

Hillary took the box as Mrs. O'Tets led her to the bedroom. 

"You can change in here," she said. 

As Hillary stood confused in the middle of the room, the little old lady 
unzipped her dress and started to help her to undress. In a few short 
minutes, Hillary was naked, and Mrs. 

O'Tets confessed to me that she had never seen a more lovely body. 

Then, she helped her into her leather outfit. It consisted of a bra, which 
was nothing more than a strap which ran along under Hillary's firm tits, and 
hoisted them up. 

And there was a pair of tight, black leather panties which hugged her ass 
and clearly outlines the lips of her cunt. And to top it off, there was a 
pair of shiny leather boots and a black collar, like a dog collar. 

"There," said Mrs. O'Tets once she helper! Hillary get dressed. 

She surveyed the tall blonde and was very pleased with the way the attire 
looked. Hillary had just the right body for that sort of thing, tall, lean 
and firm, and the leather outfit was hugging all the right places. 

"You look magnificent," she told Hillary. 

Hillary walked over and studied herself in the full length mirror in the 
room. She felt it was impossible that the half nude woman in the black 
leather could be her. 

She stood there and felt the tight briefs digging into her crotch, rubbing 
against her clit slightly, and making her feel a bit excited. Actually she 
was not sure whether it was the panties or the brandy she had been drinking. 

"Turn around," said the old lady. 

Hillary did that, but still did not believe it was her. 

"Now if Dern saw you in that, I'm sure he'd have a raging hard-on." 

"I think I look ridiculous in this outfit," said Hillary, looking at the way 
her ample tits were poking up into the air, her copper nipples getting a bit 
hard from the cool air. 

"Well, it's hard to tell when you're trying to look at yourself in a 
mirror," agreed Mrs. O'Tets. "What you really need to help you decide is 
some snapshots." 

Saying this, the dear old girl produced an instant camera and snapped a shot 
of Hillary standing there. 

Now at this point, I find it hard to believe Mrs. O'Tets story, I must 
admit. She insists that Hillary was hardly shocked at all when she began 
snapping photos of her in her half-naked condition. 

She asserts that it was the mixture of Hillary getting turned on by the 
whole thing and the brandy doing its work, but I can't believe that. I mean, 
Hillary is such a refined lady, that I can't believe she would let herself 
be photographed like that unless she was drugged. 

What I think happened is that Mrs. O'Tets put something in Hillary's drink, 
some sort of aphrodisiac or something, and this made Hillary less inhibited, 
and in fact, horny, so she got into posing in lewd ways for the old dear. 

And believe me, some of the shots were really lewd. Mrs. O'Tets showed them 
to me afterwards, and I thought they had come straight out of some porno 
magazine or something. 

Let me describe them to you. 

At first, the pictures were pretty straight forward, with Hillary merely 
standing there and posing in the leather clothes, but after a short while, 
Hillary began assuming all sorts of provocative positions. 

"I told her that she could not really compare herself to the women in the 
magazines unless she was going to get into some of the same poses as them," 
explained Mrs. O'Tets. 

So there was Hillary, lying on the bed, her legs spread wide, with her long, 
graceful fingers pulling at her leather covered snatch. 

In another photo, she was on her knees, facing the camera, with her tongue 
hanging out, and her arms down in front of her, squishing her full boobs 
together, and making a pronounced cleavage. 

It looked like she was all ready to give head or get whipped or something. 

"Now if you want to really look good," Mrs. O'Tets had told her, "You must 
use some of these." 

That was when the old lady began to bind Hillary, with a lot of leather 
straps and things. 

In one of the shots, Hillary had her hands tied behind her back with thick, 
leather straps. She was on her knees, and her head was thrown back and her 
chest sticking out into the air, looking as if she were in pain. 

Mrs. O'Tets insisted that none of the things were really hurting Hillary at 
any time, but I don't know. 

Some of them looked awful tight and constricting to me. 

One picture that was really strange and provocative at the same time was one 
in which Hillary had this sort of leather blindfold on. It covered her eyes 
completely, and the pale skin of her face contrasted wonderfully with the 
black mask. 

She was on her knees again, her hands tied behind her, and she had her mouth 
opened in a wide oval, as if ready to accept any prick that might want to 
take a try inside her mouth. 

I must admit, that I did find the pictures erotic. I mean, Hillary looked so 
helpless and vulnerable kneeling there, or lying there, all trussed up. It 
would have been so easy for men to stick their dicks into her body, whether 
or not she was willing to have them do so. 

Mrs. O'Tets said that Hillary found it exciting also. 

"That's right," said Mrs. O'Tets, as Hillary pulled and struggled against 
the straps restraining her hands and legs, "twist around, try to get free." 

At the time, Hillary was tied to the old dear's bed. Her hand were together 
over her head, and her legs were tied apart, connected to the bed posts. 
Mrs. O'Tets then went over to her crotch and pulled a zipper down that was 
part of the panties, exposing her cunt. 

She snapped away at the split beaver, while Hillary moaned and twisted, and 
then, says Mrs. O'Tets, she began to beg. 

"Oh, god, I'm so hot. I'm so fucking hot," groaned Hillary. "Why do I feel 
so wet? Why am I so horny. 

"No, stop. Don't take anymore pictures, not of my cunt, while I'm stretched 
out here like this. It's sick, perverse." 

But as the bulbs kept flashing, and the camera kept ejecting the photos, 
Hillary began to change her tune. 

"Yes. God, I'm hot. Yes, take more, take a close-up of my wet, burning twat. 
GOD! I'M SO HOT!" 

That was when Mrs. O'Tets whipped out her trusty foot long vibrator and went 
to work. 

I know it's all very hard to believe. I mean, I wouldn't even have believed 
it if she didn't have the pictures, and pictures don't lie. 

Hillary was in all those obscene poses, and she did look turned on. 

Anyway, Mrs. O'Tets took out the dildo, turned it on and shoved it into 
Hillary's cunt. 

"UNNNGH!" cried the blonde, as the shivering, plastic tool rammed into her, 
"Stick it to me! Shove it in me till it comes out my mouth!" 

Mrs. O'Tets went to work worming the vibrator in and out of her cunt, poking 
around, letting it rub gently over her clit and having it massage the walls 
of her cunt, and driving her wild. 

Then she began the slow, in and out motion that finally made Hillary come. 

Mrs. O'Tets said she screamed a lot, which verified what I had seen, and 
then was quiet. 

There was one final picture of Hillary, which I personally love, showing the 
wet vibrator sticking out of her dripping pussy right after she came. It was 
a classic. 

 CHAPTER FIVE 

"Dad, what is the matter?" I asked. 

My father had been running around like a madman all morning, and it was 
Saturday. Usually he saved his craziness for the weekdays, when he had to go 
to work. 

"I'm going to be late, that's what," he replied, as he pulled on his tennis 
sneaker and tried, unsuccessfully, to tie it. 

"What's the big deal?" I asked, "Hillary will wait for you at the courts." 

"But I'm not playing Hillary today," replied my dad. 

I was a bit concerned. I had not seen Hillary since the other day when Mrs. 
O'Tets and she had that little photo session. 

"Is she alright?" I asked. 

"Yes, yes," replied my dad, hunting around for his racket. 

"Then who are you playing today?" 

"One of the clients," replied my father, finally finding the racket and then 
hunting about the apartment some more. "Mr. Honeypot says it's an important 
account, and told me I had better be there to play this new client. You 
know, mix business with a little exercise. He says it's good business." 

Mr. Honeypot was always making Dad do something like this. He did not 
believe that Dad's job ended at the end of the day. My father was on call to 
the old fart day and night. 

Mr. Honeypot had threatened dad on numerous occasions with the loss of his 
job. 

"Margie! Where are my balls?" asked Dad in his nervous, high-pitched, 
squeaky voice. 

"Right here, Dad," I said, handing them to him. 

He grabbed them and then kissed me on the cheek. 

"I'm going now," he told me. "Have a good day. What are you doing today, 
anyway?" 

"I'm seeing Eddy. We haven't decided what we're going to do." 

"Eddy," he whimpered. "Margie, do you have to see that whimpering little 
milk-sop? Why don't you go out with other men?" 

Wouldn't Dad be surprised if he knew all of the men that I was seeing. 

"Well, don't let him get fresh," Dad said, and then scurried off. 

I watched him almost bowl Willy over as he ran into the elevator, and then 
he was gone. 

Eddy came over a few minutes later, and he had a black eye. 

"Eddy, what happened?" I asked, making him sit down. 

"I ran into your father in the lobby," he told me, as I got some ice and 
applied it to his eye. 

"You mean he hit you!" I said. 

"No, not exactly," he answered, "He sort of ran into me, and the handle of 
his racket hit me in the eye." 

"This will make it feel better," I said. 

Then I noticed that Eddy was wearing his tennis shorts and shirt. 

"Did you want to go play tennis today?" I asked. 

"Well, I was thinking of it," he answered. 

"I would like that, but I don't think you'll be able to play like that." 

"No, no, it's alright," he said, standing up and smiling, "I don't want to 
ruin the day. I can play." 

"Well, alright," I agreed, for it was a beautiful day out and I felt like a 
little exercise. 

I went in to get changed and came out wearing my tennis outfit. It was a 
sexy thing, made of white terry-cloth. It was nice and tight, with a little 
vee in the front. 

I knew Eddy liked it because when we played, he often missed the ball 
because he was looking at my firm breasts or pretty legs. 

When we got in the elevator, I could see Willy beginning to sweat, and he 
kept sneaking looks at me as I stood there. I handed Eddy my racket and bent 
over, making believe I was tying my shoe. 

I made sure, however, to stick my ass right in front of Willy's face. I knew 
that the material of the shorts clung to my ass, and he could see the gentle 
curve of my cheeks, and the outline of my crack. 

"Ohhhh, lordie," moaned Willy, as he tried not to look. "Are you folks goin' 
to play tennis?" 

"Yes," said Eddy. 

"Well, you had better stay away from Margie's father," he warned. "He is in 
a evil mood." 

"I know," groaned Eddy. 

"Willy's right," I said, finally standing up. After all, there was not much 
I could do with Eddy there. "We had better not go to the regular tennis 
club. Dad will be there." 

"We can go to one on the west side," said Eddy. "My father is a member." 

"Good," I replied, and I gave my ass a little wiggle as we left the 
elevator. 

When we got to the club, there was a waiting list, so we stood around by the 
sides and watched some of the people play, when suddenly, a high-pitched 
voice called out my name. 

"Margie! What are you doing here?" 

I was shocked to see my father standing there, with another distinguished 
looking man. 

"Grrrrrr," was my only reply. 

"And you!" yelled Dad, brandishing his racket at Eddy, "What are you doing 
here? Did you follow me?" 

"What's the problem here?" asked a rather small, wrinkled old man. He had a 
rough, throaty voice, like sandpaper on a piece of granite, and he looked 
like the man on the 'community chest' cards in 'Monoploy.' 

It was Mr. Honeypot, Dad's boss. 

He took one look at me and Eddy and his face became beet red. This was 
natural for him to do whenever he saw me because he thought I always caused 
trouble. 

"Aldim!" he screamed at my father, "If you're responsible for this...." 

"Dad didn't know anything about it," I interjected. "We came to this club by 
chance." 

"Margie," moaned my father. 

"See here now," said the older man he was with, "What is this all about? Do 
you know these young people?" 

"Don't worry," said Mr. Honeypot, "I'll have them thrown out." 

"Oh, no you won't," said Eddy, showing a little courage for the first time. 
"My father is a member here." 

"Listen, you young wimp," snarled Honeypot, "If you don't want another black 
eye, you'd better get lost." 

"Will someone tell me what is going on here!" yelled the man. 

"I can explain it all," simpered my father. "You see, this young lady is 
Margie, my daughter, and this young man is Eddy, her ... Uh...." 

"Tennis teacher," I interjected. 

"Uh, yes," agreed Dad, not wanting to admit that Eddy was my boyfriend. 
"Margie and he usually play at my club, but since they knew I was playing 
with you, they didn't want to disturb us, they came here instead of going to 
my club. They didn't know that we were playing here." 

"Well, why didn't they just come with us?" asked the man. 

"Uh...." hesitated Dad. 

"We didn't want to ruin your game," I said. "I'm not a very good player. 
That's why Eddy here is teaching me, and if I played, I'd just be a 
handicap." 

Mr. Honeypot seemed satisfied, so did Dad, and the client. 

"Nonsense," replied the man. "With all due respect to your father, I am a 
better player than he is, so I think it would be just perfect if you were to 
play with me, and your father can play with this professional teacher." 

"Me, play with Eddy as a partner!" screamed Dad. 

"Is there some problem?" asked the client. 

"I'll never play with Eddy," replied Dad, glaring at the redheaded youth. 

"Aldim!" screamed Mr. Honeypot. 

"Oh ... alright," whimpered Dad. 

"Splendid," smiled the man. "Let's play." 

We finally got a court, and we paired off. The client introduced himself as 
Bob Ames and I found him very cordial and humorous. But I could not pay full 
attention to him because I wanted to-make sure Dad and Eddy did not fight. 

"Listen, you big jerk," whispered Dad to Eddy, "just stay out of the way, 
and don't win. Mr. Ames must win, or he'll be in a bad mood, and we could 
lose this contract, understand." 

"I'll try to control my natural skill," said Eddy. 

"Natural skill, my eye," said my father. 

Eddy felt his eye wink. 

Dad and Eddy won the toss and my father served to us first. He swung, and 
missed. 

"Serve up more," said Bob to my father. 

"That's right, Mr. Aldim," said Eddy suddenly, as if he really were a 
teacher. "Hit the ball with a bit of an upward motion, and don't choke up so 
much on the racket. You have to have the proper grip, you know." 

"Shut up," ordered my father. 

"You better listen to him, Aldim," said Bob, "After all, he is a 
professional." 

"That's right, Aldim," yelled Mr. Honeypot from the sidelines. 

Father swallowed his pride and prepared to serve again. , "No, no," said 
Eddy, grabbing his racket. "You're doing it all wrong. Here, let me show 
you." 

"I can do it myself," snapped Dad. He began to wrestle with Eddy over the 
racket. "I was playing tennis when you were still wearing wet diapers," said 
dad. 

They kept pulling on the racket, twisting it back and forth, until someone, 
I'm not sure who, lost their grip, and the racket snapped back and hit my 
father in the eye. 

"Dad," I yelled, "are you alright?" 

He was holding his eye, and groaning, and when Eddy finally pulled his hand 
away, he had the beginnings of a black eye. 

"Now look what you've done," he said to Eddy. 

"It was your fault," said Eddy. "If you had let me show you how to do it, it 
wouldn't have happened." 

"The man's right," said Bob Ames. "Do you want to call it a day?" 

"Aldim!" screamed Mr. Honeypot. 

"No, no, I'm alright," insisted my-dad. "Let's play." 

The game started, and I must admit, that Eddy was in rare form. He made some 
fair serves, and really got around the court okay. I played my usual game, 
terrible, and it was not long before the game rested on one crucial serve. 

"Now when the ball is served," said Bob Ames to me, in a angry voice, "just 
stand clear and let me get it." 

"I was glad to do as he said, for I could see how cross he was getting over 
the fact that he was not winning. He was like a little child that was 
losing. 

Dad served, and I could see him close his eyes as he swung, to make sure he 
missed the ball and blew the game. 

But he didn't. 

He served a perfect serve, but Bob was right there and returned it. It was 
low, straight and powerful. 

"I've got it," yelled Eddy. 

He ran for the ball, and tripped, but as he was falling, the ball hit his 
racket and he returned the swing. 

Again, Bob was there, and he hit another perfect return. It was heading for 
Eddy again, and Dad rushed over to his side to stop him from hitting it. As 
Eddy swung, my dad swung at his racket, but somehow managed to not only hit 
the ball, and return it, but knock the racket from Eddy's hand as well. 

It was a weak, short hop, and the ball looked like it would fall just at the 
net. Bob raced forward, determined to get it. The racket sailed from Eddy's 
hand as he fell. Dad fell on top of him. 

Just as Bob Ames reached the net and almost had the ball, Eddy's flying 
racket struck him squarely in the mouth. 

"I just don't understand how these things can happen," yelled Mr. Honeypot 
wildly. "It's that daughter of yours, Aldim." 

We were all in a cab heading home. That is, Mr. Honeypot, Dad and I. Eddy 
had wisely gone in a different taxi, right after striking Mr. Ames, and Mr. 
Ames had been rushed to the dentist, as his two front teeth had been knocked 
out. 

"Well lose this contract for sure now," babbled Honeypot. "And it's all your 
fault, Aldim." 

"But Mr. Honeypot," simpered dad, "Eddy did it, not me. It's not my fault." 

"Of course it is! Margie is your daughter, Eddy's her boyfriend, so that 
makes you responsible." 

"You're not going to fire me, are you?" whined Dad. 

"For a little thing like this? Of course not. I'll just demote you to 
janitor." 

"Margie!" yelled Dad. 

"Grrrrrrrr." by the time we got back to the apartment, I was in no mood for 
any work that night, but I knew that Saturday night was a big night, and I 
couldn't let Mrs. O'Tets down. Dad was on the phone most of the evening, 
trying to get hold of Bob Ames to apologize to him and try to get him to 
sign the contract, but Ames wouldn't even talk with him. He held Dad 
responsible for what had happened. 

Actually, I think it was Bob Ames' pride that was really hurting him, not 
his teeth. 

"Dad, I'm going to spend the evening at Mrs. O'Tets," I told him. "If Eddy 
calls, tell him I'm there." 

"If Eddy calls, I'll invite him up and wring his neck," said Dad. 

Mrs. O'Tets had booked a pretty tight schedule for that evening and there 
were men coming and going pretty quickly until about twelve. I got a couple 
of loads in the mouth, sand several in my cunt. I even got one on my chest. 
It was from some accountant that didn't really like to do anything more than 
beat off onto a woman. 

He was alright, I guess, but very boring. 

Then there was a little break, during which time I took a quick shower and 
douched, so I was more inviting to the men. 

"We've got some new client coming," Mrs. O'Tets told me. "He's got money, so 
I charged him a little extra for you, so be extra good." 

"Don't worry," I smiled, "I'll come so hard he'll think I'm expiring." 

The doorbell rang, and Mrs. O'Tets answered it and you can imagine my 
surprise when she walked in with Mr. Bob Ames! 

"Bob!" 

"Margie!" he exclaimed in shock. 

"You two know each other?" asked Mrs. O'Tets. 

This had never happened before, and she was slightly concerned. 

"We met each other, briefly today," he replied, as he studied me in my robe. 
"You looked quite enticing in that tennis outfit of yours," he said, "but 
you look even better now." 

I could see how he was eating me up with his eyes, tearing off my clothing 
and digging into my body. 

I really didn't know what to say, so I asked, "How are your teeth?" 

He put his hand to his mouth and touched his lips gingerly. 

"They're alright. The dentist put them back in and gave me a brace to wear 
for awhile. He says I won't lose them." 

"Then you'll forgive dad." 

"Not on your life. It was his idiot carelessness that caused the whole 
thing." 

"Isn't there anything I could do to change your mind?" 

He grabbed me. 

 CHAPTER SIX 

Bob was not a man to mince words. He was very physical, and after grabbing 
me, pulled me into his arms and almost ripped the robe off my body. He began 
to kiss my neck, and then rapidly worked down to my tits. 

He held me close to him with one arm around my waist, while the other hand 
cupped one of my soft tits, squeezing it and forcing it up and out, so that 
his mouth could get a good grip on it when he sucked it. 

His mouth covered my entire tit, and I could feel him stretching his jaw 
wide so that he could get my entire tit into his mouth. As he sucked on it, 
he literally fed my pliant boob into his mouth, until his lips were rammed 
up against my chest and my fleshy mound was completely in his greedy mouth. 

He sucked on it wantonly, drawing it out, his cheeks hollowing as he did so. 
I could feel my nipple sticking hard and long into his throat, and I could 
feel it brushing the roof of his mouth. 

After he had sucked my one nipple for awhile, he went to the other tit, and 
drew it into his mouth, pulling at the soft flesh, yanking at it and sucking 
ever so hard. 

I was just unzipping his fly, my fingers eagerly searching for his prick. 
When I found it, I released a sigh of excitement, for his cock was 
incredibly fat. 

It felt like a warm, hard salami, and I struggled to get it out from his 
pants. I only succeeded after unbuckling his pants and taking them down. 
Then his fat cock popped up and banged against my stomach. 

The robe had been pulled back, and I allowed it to slip off of me, so that 
my naked stomach was pressed up against his, his rigid dick trapped between 
our two bodies. 

He stopped sucking my tits now, and grabbed each nipple with his hands and 
yanked on them. I swooned as they stretched taught, and he pinched them ever 
so passionately. 

"You've got a pretty mouth, Margie," he grinned. "I wanted to kiss it all 
the time we were on the tennis courts. Now I want to see how talented that 
mouth is." 

I decided to play with him, for it was obvious that he was getting off on 
the fact that he was an older man, and I seemed to be a pure, young, 
innocent girl. 

"What do you mean?" I asked, fluttering my eyelashes. 

"I want to see your lips and tongue in action," he leered. "I want to see 
you working off my hot prick with your lips, you little slut. Suck me off, 
Margie!" 

He pressed his hands onto my shoulders and forced me to my knees. 

He hurt me, but just a little, and I was beginning to get off on his fierce 
nature. I dropped down in front of him obediently and looked at his red 
tool, as it hung a few inches from my nose. 

"But it's so big," I protested. 

"Just stretch those little lips of yours," he demanded, "and eat cock, 
bitch." 

I opened my mouth wide, wider, even wider, until my lips were a thin, red 
circle, and moved them towards his cock head. His dick was shaped like a 
bullet, with a little, pointed head that gradually widened onto his enormous 
shaft. 

My lips easily fit over the head of his dork, but they barely made it around 
the shaft. 

"Ohhhhh," he groaned in contentment, as he felt my warm, wet lips sliding 
along the surface of his cock, my bright lipstick smearing along his 
wrinkled skin, as I stuffed his meat into my gullet. 

Deeper and deeper it went, the fleshy pole poking into every corner of my 
mouth, flattened my tongue down so that it could not move. Luckily, it was 
not unusually long, I would not have been able to take it. 

As it was, I just barely swallowed all of his meat, and then I applied 
suction. 

That was when he grabbed me by the hair and pulled my head back. 

"No, whore," he snarled, "lick it, eat it, like a candy. I want to see your 
tongue and lips on it. Now go." 

I slid my tongue out of my mouth, all the way, letting him get a good, long 
look at the moist, pink carpet, before I rubbed the tip of his cock along 
it, leaving a sticky trail of pre-come on it. 

I smiled as he watched, with obvious pleasure, and then gulped the drop 
down. My tongue flicked out again, and soon it was sliding all over his fat, 
throbbing shaft. 

I held his dick by the glans, and rubbed my fingers around it, tickling the 
sensitive tip. My tongue lapped away at his tool, covering it with saliva, 
making it dripping wet in my hands. 

Then I pulled his tool to the side, and clamped my lips along the stiff 
tube, as tight as possible. I began to slide my mouth up and down along his 
dick in this manner, thrilling to the feel of my soft lips dragging along 
the bumpy skin of his prick. 

He was really enjoying the show, and his eyes remained glued on my mouth and 
he watched me wantonly work on his cock. I licked at his dick like it was 
the sweetest thing in the world, and my saliva ran down from his red dork 
all over my chin and onto my firm breasts. 

I was little more than a slobbering animal to him, which was using its 
tongue and mouth to give him pleasure. 

"Keep it up, bitch," he moaned, "you're a hot little cocksucker." 

Up and down my mouth flew, and then I worked myself lower, and began to suck 
and lick at his hairy balls. At first, the kinky hairs tickled my nose, but 
after they were all wet and matted down with my saliva, they didn't bother 
me. 

It felt so good to have the soft, hot testicles in my mouth, and he was 
enjoying it immensely, too. 

"Now go to town," he grunted, and closed his eyes. 

I figured he wanted me to deep throat it then, so I clamped my lips around 
his dick and sucked his hard meat down into my velvet passage. My nose was 
soon buried in his pubic thatch, and I was sucking away furiously, for the 
little show I had put on for him had made me burning hot also. 

My loud slurping made the action even more obscene than it already was, and 
he decided to help me out by grabbing the back of my head, and pulling my 
mouth down onto his cock. 

The hardest part of it all was not swallowing his meat, but rather forcing 
my mouth open wide enough to allow the dick to enter. I had my mouth open to 
its fullest, and the meat slammed in and out, in and out, smashing my nose 
against his pubis. 

I couldn't move my tongue, lips, or anything, so I just knelt there and let 
him force his cock in and out of my mouth, using like he would use my cunt, 
face-fucking me at a terrible rate. 

"Enough," he groaned, and pulled out. 

He then knocked me onto the couch, and threw my legs open. by this time, I 
was panting with desire, and I could not wait to feel the thick, hard prong 
shoved inside of my wet pussy, so I grabbed his wet missile and guided it 
into me. 

My head jerked back as his meat plowed me, and every muscle in my body 
seemed to tense. His dork was so tremendously fat, so incredibly thick, that 
it seemed to be tearing me asunder. 

It was by far, the fattest cock that had ever fucked me, and remember, I 
have had a lot of experience. 

He finally forced the pole all the way up inside my willing twat, and then 
he began his rapid plunging motion, spreading my cunt hole open with each 
thrust, slapping the head of the dick against the back of my cunt, making me 
writhe with pleasure. 

"Take it, bitch! Take it!" he snarled at me, as he used my hole to vent his 
tensions. 

But he did not have to tell me that. I was shoving my hips forward to meet 
each thrust, so that his cock was driven all the way up inside me. It felt 
as if I had a horse's dick inside me, it was so big, and I loved every 
second of it. 

My entire body was covered with sweat, and my mouth open in a silent scream 
of passion, as I came, the love juice pouring all around the invading cock, 
making it even wetter than it already was. 

He did not pause for a second, and kept banging away at me, porking me with 
his magnificent dick, slamming me against the couch, as he squeezed and 
abused my tits. 

"Come, come, come," I screamed. 

He did. 

His first shot fired deep into my womb, making it explode with fire. Then he 
quickly pulled back and began spurting the rest of his load all over my 
quivering belly and legs. 

He shot it all over me, as his dick jerked in spasmodic release, sending 
trails of watery scum flowing on my flat stomach. Some of it fell on my 
thighs and ran along my legs, while he filled my bellybutton with his thick, 
wonderful load. 

"Rub it in, slut," he commanded. 

My hands flew to my stomach, and began to spread his hot seed all over my 
body, as he kept on firing load after load onto my smooth, fresh skin, 
wetting my hands as I did so. 

Finally, he was finished, but I kept rubbing at his semen, smearing it into 
my flesh, until I was all sticky and wet. He just watched, as I wiped his 
cock off on my thigh. When I was done, I put my come-covered hands to my 
mouth and licked each finger clean, smiling and watching his face as I did 
so. 

"Ohhhh, that was so good," he sighed, as he zipped up and sat down. 

I poured him a drink, and sat there naked, his scum drying on my well-used 
body. 

"You may not play tennis very well, young lady, but you're one hell of a 
piece of ass." 

"Anytime," I grinned, giving his cock a pinch. 

He paid Mrs. O'Tets, straightened his clothes, and prepared to leave, but 
just before he did so, he turned back to me and said, "By the way, I'll call 
your father tomorrow and have him bring the contract so I can sign it." 

I was so happy that I wanted to run over and hug him, but I didn't think he 
would appreciate it. 

"Aldim, I don't know how you do it," said Mr. Honeypot when he came by to 
pick up the signed contract. "Yesterday, I would have sworn that you had no 
chance in hell of getting this contract signed. Yet, here it is, all ready 
to go. You must have a guardian angel looking over you." 

"Oh," smiled Dad, "it's just that Mr. Ames came to his senses, that's all, 
and realized that it was all an accident." 

"Don't put yourself down, Dad," I injected, "It was your persistent calling 
that finally broke the ice." 

None of them would ever have to know that it was really my talented tongue 
and tight pussy that had gotten the contract signed. 

"Well, whatever it was," said Honeypot, "You deserve a reward. Aldim, and 
I'm going to give you three days off, all expenses paid. Go wherever you 
want, and take that Hillary woman with you." 

Dad was floored, and personally, so was I. Mr. Honeypot was never that 
generous, though my father often deserved it. 

"Why ... why Mr. Honeypot, that is so nice of you," said Dad. 

"Then you'll go?" 

"Of course, I'll call Hillary right now." 

"Fine," smiled the white-haired man, "You'll love the Poconos." 

"Uh ... well maybe we'll go somewhere else," replied dad. 

"The Poconos," repeated Honeypot. "I happen to know that Bill Hartford will 
be there this week, and it will give you a good opportunity to talk to him 
about switching from his present firm to us." 

"But I thought I'm going on a vacation," said my dad. 

"I'm sure I never used the word vacation, Aldim," said the boss, getting a 
little angry. "And remember who's paying for this. You'll do what I want, 
and like it." 

"Alright, Mr. Honeypot," sniffled Dad, "We'll go there. We'll go there. I'll 
tell Hillary right away. She'll be so excited." 

I was furious at that old fart, Mr. Honeypot for taking advantage of dad 
and, to tell the absolute truth, I was really more than just a little mad at 
dad as well, for allowing Honeypot to push him around like that. 

I had to talk to someone about it, so I went to see Mrs. O'Tets. 

"You mean you'll have three whole days free?" was the first thing she said. 

"Yes." 

"That means we can have an all night party," said the old woman. "All 
night?" 

"Yes. The customers love it. They always have such a good time. I've never 
had you do it before because you couldn't spend a night away from your 
father, but now that problem will be solved." 

"All night?" 

"Oh, don't worry about it," she smiled, "It's really very simple, and the 
time goes so fast, you are kept busy every minute. Besides, the clients do 
most of the work. 

"I'll start arranging things immediately." 

She ran to the phone and began calling steady customers, men she knew could 
be trusted, for she did not want this getting out of hand. I sat there and 
thumbed through her issue of Cheri, and wondered why my tits weren't just a 
little bit bigger. 

"Well, it's all set for tomorrow night," she informed me. 

"But I have a date with Eddy tomorrow," I moaned. 

"Don't worry about it," she replied. "You always send him home at about 
eleven, don't you?" 

"Yes." 

"Well, tomorrow night, make sure he is gone by eleven on the dot. The party 
is due to start at half past, and you've got to be down here and ready. 
After all, you are the hostess." 

"Oh, Mrs. O'Tets," I sighed in admiration. "You think of everything." 

Mrs. O'Tets was not the only one who was delighted that dad was going away. 

"You mean we'll have the whole apartment to ourselves?" yelled Eddy, when I 
told him. 

He had just picked me up for a movie, and I could already see where his mind 
was heading. But it didn't worry me. I knew I could handle him. 

"That doesn't mean a thing," I told him, "other than the fact that you can 
come up and have a cup of milk before you leave." 

"Your dad still hasn't forgiven me for that tennis thing, has he?" 

"No," I replied, "and you really can't blame him," I answered, "You were the 
one that knocked Mr. Ames' front teeth out." 

"But that never would have happened if your father hadn't run into me." 

"I don't want to discuss it anymore," I told him. "Now let's hurry, or we'll 
be late." 

We went to see an old favorite of Eddy's. It was "Klute" and he loved it 
tremendously. I had never seen it before, but found it a bit distasteful. 
After all, how could some one care what happens to a prostitute. 

Eddy hardly talked to me the whole time, which sort of bothered me, but 
during the scene in which Jane Fonda was doing a strip-tease for one of her 
Johns, he was absolutely panting in lust. 

I swear it. 

He was like an animal in heat. 

We didn't talk about the film much, but when we got home, I could see that 
it had given him some ideas. 

"Aw, Margie," he whined, "Come on. Let me touch them." 

"No," I replied curtly. 

"But you let me touch them once before," he reminded me. 

"That evening you had gotten me a little intoxicated, and I didn't really 
know what I was doing. You took advantage of me." 

We were seated on the sofa, with the lights low and some romantic music 
playing on the stereo. Eddy had his shirt unbuttoned and was trying to do 
the same to mine. He had only gotten about halfway down when he had tried to 
grab my tits. 

His other hand was on my leg, a little bit up under my dress. He was 
stroking my leg so tenderly, that I wanted him to go higher, but he seemed 
afraid to do so. 

"Lot's of people do that sort of thing," he insisted. "I'm not going to hurt 
you or anything. I just want to feel up your tits." 

"No." 

"Didn't it feel good last time I did it?" 

"No." 

"Didn't you like the way it felt to have my hands massaging them, and 
playing with the nipples?" 

"Well...." 

I was getting really hot with his ceaseless rubbing of my smooth thigh. 

"Come on. Just a little. Then I'll stop." 

I didn't really say yes, but I released his hand, and he pulled my blouse 
open, revealing my white cotton bra, and my round tits. My nipples were 
already straining at the cups, and after a few minutes of fumbling, he had 
unhooked my bra and lifted it away. 

"They're beautiful," he sighed. 

Then he placed both of his hands on my chest, cupping my warm tits and 
squeezing them firmly, pressing down my nipples with the palm of his hand. 

"Oh, Eddy," I moaned, "I really don't think-" 

In the middle of my sentence, he pinched my rock hard nubs, and all I could 
do was sit there. 

He pinched again, and then began a slow twisting motion, making the nipples 
pull at the sensitive skin of my areolas, and making my cunt feel hot. He 
squeezed and pinched, over and over again, until my cunt was sopping wet, 
and I was limp in his arms. 

Then he put his mouth to my tits and began flicking at the nipple with his 
tongue. 

"No, Eddy. You said you'd just touch them a little. Now stop." 

He gave a quick passionate bite of my rosy pebble, and I went limp, allowing 
him to mouth and manhandle my hot boobs. As he did so, he was pushing me 
back on the couch, pressing his body on top of mine, until I was pinned 
underneath him. 

With a hand on my left tit and a mouth on my right, he had me where he 
wanted. His free hand wandered down my body and then shot up my dress, 
grabbing at the moist material of my panties. 

"Eddy, what are you doing?" I asked, in mock tones of confusion. 

His answer was to grab the waistband of my briefs and yank them down, 
pulling the panties partially off my cunt and ass. 

"Stop it, Eddy. Really," I protested, as I squirmed about under him, making 
his teeth pull more savagely at my nipple. "I can't let you do that." 

He kept stripping the panties off me, and I kept lifting my ass up as I 
struggled, so that he was able to finally pull them down about my ankles. 
Then I heard him undo his zipper. 

"No, Eddy. I mean it. Stop!" 

I felt his organ on my thigh, and he was beginning to crawl up on me, his 
cock getting nearer and nearer to my aching twat. I wanted so badly for him 
to plunge his tool deep into my cunt and fuck the shit out of me. 

And for the first time, I thought of disobeying Mrs. O'Tets. But then I 
realized that if Eddy fucked me now, he would know that I was not a virgin, 
and then he would never marry me. 

It would ruin everything! 

Just as his cock head touch my inflamed cuntal lips, I squeezed his balls,. 

"No!" I repeated. 

He grimaced in pain, and I was able to sit up, knocking him onto the floor 
as he grabbed his aching nuts. 

"Owwwww," he moaned. 

"Oh, stop it," I said, pulling up my panties. "It doesn't hurt that much. 
Besides, you deserved it. I told you we weren't going to do that." 

"But I love you," he blurted out. 

I was taken back, for though I knew Eddy was very fond of me, I did not know 
if he loved me. 

"But Eddy, don't you understand," I explained, "that act is something very 
special. Sure, I like to be touched and kissed, and I'll admit that I even 
enjoyed having my tits touched and sucked on, but "my cherry is something 
special. 

"I want to save it. I'm saving myself for my husband, whoever that may be, 
for he is the one that I want to take that delicate blossom away from me." 

. Eddy rubbed his dick, and then got back up on the couch, his cock still 
hard and erect. 

"But Margie," he whined, "look at this. Look how hard and big my cock is. 
And it hurts, Margie. Not being a man, you wouldn't understand the needs 
that a man has. 

"When a man gets aroused, he can't just stop. He can't just turn off his 
passion like a faucet. Right now, the only way for me to stop this terrible 
pain in my cock and balls is to come. 

"I respect your feelings, Margie, but a man has certain needs, and J. need 
your help to satisfy them." 

"But what can I do?" I asked, placing my hand nonchalantly on his thigh, a 
scant inch from his throbbing dick. "Blow me," he said in a whisper. 

"That's disgusting." 

"It's not that bad." 

"I won't do that. That's sick," I replied. , "Well, at least jerk me off." 

I slowly moved my hand to his dick, my fingers taking a long time before 
they slowly touched his throbbing organ. 

"OH, god," he muttered. 

I had to keep from smiling as I gently wrapped my fingers around his cock 
and squeezed. 

It was red hot, hotter than any cock I had felt before, and I could sort of 
imagined how horny he was. He must have been dying to plug me, but he would 
have to settle for a hand-job, at least until we were married. 

I began pumping him, up and down, nice and slow, letting my fingers graze 
the very tip of his cock as I did so, as if it were an accident, though it 
was not. 

"Ohhhh, that's so good," he muttered. 

That was when I happened to notice the clock. 

It was five to eleven. 

I gripped him more tightly, and suddenly changed my tempo to a fast one, 
running my hand up and down and trying to make him come fast. 

"Slower," he whimpered. 

But it was too late. 

His cock began to kick, and his come shot up into the air and began to 
splatter on my hand and all over the lap of his pants. I kept jerking as he 
whined, and soon he was all sticky with come. 

"Was that good?" I asked him. 

He was embarrassed and said nothing, as he wiped his pants somewhat clean 
and left the apartment. He gave me one parting kiss before he left, and I 
could tell that he was not mad at me, just ashamed that he had come so 
quickly. 

The moment he left, I ran to the bathroom, washed off my hand and then 
scurried into my bedroom to put on my sexiest bra and panties and a dress 
that was easy to remove. I applied a little more make-up and then ran to the 
elevator. 

"Well, good evening, Willy," I smiled, as I got in. 

The elevator was empty except for him and me, and he got nervous as soon as 
I stepped in. 

I was in a really wicked mood, after teasing Eddy, so I thought I'd really 
get Willy tonight. 

"Willy," I said, "is it true what they say about black men?" 

"What's that, Miss Margie?" he asked, hesitantly. 

I sidled up next to him and stared down at his crotch. 

"You know, that black men are ... unusually big." 

"Ohhhhh, lordie," he wailed. "Is it?" 

I was rubbing up against him now, and I just kept staring at his crotch. 

"Please, Miss Margie, stop that," he moaned. 

That's when I got really bold and reached down and grabbed at his pants, 
because I could already see a noticeable bulge in his pants. 

My aim was true and I got my fingers-on his stiffening tool, and gave it a 
gentle squeeze. 

"Ohhhhhhhh," he moaned, his voice rising and falling. 

He jerked away from me, but now the bulge in his pants was really apparent, 
and he was trying to push it down. 

"Come on, show it to me," I pleaded. "Let me see how long it is. Is it six 
inches? Eight? Ten? Twelve? I wonder how it would feel in my pussy." 

Willy's eyes were rolling round and round in his head, and he was dripping 
sweat by the time I got to Mrs. O'Tets' floor. I gave Willy a last wink and 
then left him, nervous and aroused. 

Mrs. O'Tets apartment was all ready. She had moved the furniture out of the 
living room and had replaced it with big pillows. The lighting was low and 
there was slow jazz in the background. 

"Margie," she smiled, "I thought you'd never arrive. They'll be here any 
minute." 

"How many?" I asked. 

"Four." 

"But how can I handle that many men at once?" 

"Simple," she laughed. "Like I said before. Just let them do the work. If 
they have a request, perform it for them. Remember how it was with two men?" 

I smiled. I certainly did. 

"Well, this will basically be the same," she told me. "Once you get past one 
man at a time, the number of the men really does not matter any more. The 
only difference is how long your pussy and mouth and ass will be fucked. The 
more cocks, the longer the fucking." 

There was no more time for questions, for the door rang and the four men 
came in. I recognized two of them, but could not recall their preferences. 
They all looked hot and eager, and I felt certain that this was the first 
time they had gang-banged a woman before. 

One of the older men, with a balding head, walked over to me and smiled. 

"Let's help the little lady out of her clothes," he suggested. 

The others laughed, and soon the four of them were stripping me as I stood 
in the middle of the floor. 

I must say, it was an odd, and wonderful feeling to have eight hands roaming 
all over my body, plucking off my blouse, stripping off my skirt, poking 
into my bra, and sliding down my panties, as I shivered with anticipation. 
As they undressed me, they got in some quick feels, and there was constantly 
a hand kneading my tits, or poking around my cunt and ass. I had never felt 
such sexual hunger before, as the four men probed and molested me. 

And this was just the warm up. 

When I was stark naked, one of the men grabbed my face and pulled my mouth 
to his. He began kissing me, poking his tongue into my mouth, stuffing it 
down my throat, very nearly. 

At the same time, there was a man working over each of my tits, pulling and 
squeezing, tweaking the nipples, and shaking them about, using them with no 
concern whether or not I liked it. 

But I did like it, and the manhandling of my tits was making my cunt burn, 
but the fingers that were being shoved into my cunt and ass at the same time 
made it burn even more. 

"How should we take her?" asked one man, as he sank his fingers into my 
boob, "One at a time, or all at once." 

"I think all at the same time," said the man fingering my cunt and ass, "I'd 
like to see this petite body of hers getting slammed in three different 
holes." 

"But that would leave one of us out," protested the man on my other tit." 

"Enough of this fucking around," said the bald man, "Get down and start the 
action, slut. We're not paying you for nothing." 

I dropped to my knees, and the men circled about me. I could see that they 
all had hard-ons, and I reached out and unzipped the bald mart's pants. His 
cock flopped right out, since he wore no underwear, and I began to yank on 
it lovingly. 

"Look at the little scum eater," he chuckled, "she can hardly wait. Come on 
boys, let's slip it to her." 

As I slid my tongue out and began to lick the tip of the fat, purplish cock, 
I heard other zippers opening, and soon the men crowded about my kneeling 
form, dangling their cocks in my face as well. 

The sight of four erect cocks inches from my face startled me, I must admit. 
The thought that I was going to get it, and hard, from all four of them, 
shook me up a bit. 

"Let's get going, cunt." 

"Grrrrrr." 

I forced my lips down on the first cock, and the others teased me by rubbing 
their dicks along my face, getting turned on by the sight of their swollen, 
crimson cock heads rubbing against my pale, white flesh. The cocks slid 
along my hollowed cheeks, poked at my eyes, stabbed into my my ears, and 
glided along my chin and neck. It was a thoroughly perverse, repulsive 
feeling, and yet, at the same time, it excited me as nothing has ever done 
before. 

There was something thrilling about doing an act that was so degenerate, so 
obscene, that most women would never even think about it. I mean, here I 
was, letting four men rub their cocks on me, each one expecting his turn in 
my sucking mouth, and each one knowing full well that they were going to get 
it. 

I went to the next cock, and the bald man's dick started rubbing on my 
forehead, leaving a cool trail of saliva as it did so. This second cock was 
not circumcised, and it was fun to pull back the excess skin and lick the 
head, or allow my tongue to poke into the salty folds of skin and seek out 
the glans, as he relentlessly rammed his tool in and out of my obliging 
mouth. 

And that is what I did for the next hour or so, switched off from cock to 
cock, allowing them to pump their hot meat into my mouth over and over 
again, until my lips were getting sore and there was spit all over my chest. 

"God, what a mouth," grunted one of them, as he held me by the ears and 
sawed his prick in and out of my orifice, "soft as velvet.'. 

They all seemed to agree, for they kept on face fucking me for the longest 
time, laughing each time I gagged a little-one of the men had an enormously 
long dong-and delighting in my lewd slurping noises. 

Then they were ready for better things, however, and the bald man lay down 
on one of the pillows and stroked his meat invitingly. 

"Alright, honey, I've tried your sweet little mouth, now let's see if your 
cunt is as good. Sit on it!" 

I was led over to him by the others, as if I was going to try to escape, and 
squatted on his wet dick. 

 CHAPTER SEVEN 

"OHHHHH, GODDDDD," I grunted, as his dick slithered into my well-lubed hole. 

The three men shoved me down onto him, and then began to bounce me up and 
down on the prong, delighted at my grunts and groans of passion. 

And there were plenty of them. I had really been turned on by giving 
multiple head, and feeling their saliva-covered dicks on my body, and my 
cunt was ripe for a hard, ramming cock. 

So it was not at all surprising that I came in just a few strokes. 

"God, look at her," they grinned, "she must be a fucking nympho. She's 
coming already, and we didn't even start to slip the meat to her." 

I could not hide my pleasure, and as my body shook and quivered, the bald 
man kept on fucking me, as my cunt dumped my passion juice all over his 
hard, hot, thrusting tool. 

But this was just the start. 

I then felt someone applying spit to my asshole, and then I felt the wet 
head of a dick pressed against my anus. I had been fucked in the ass several 
times, but I had never been fucked in the cunt and ass at the same time, so 
I shivered as he forced his way into me. 

"Ohhhh, christ," I whimpered in a pleading tone. 

"You better learn to like it, cunt," said one man, "because there's two more 
that are going to find a home in your sweet, little body." 

He shoved in then, slow and steady, so he didn't really hurt me. 

But the feeling was intense. I mean, I was already getting it fast and 
furious in the bush, and now another pecker was worming its way up my twat. 
Deeper and deeper it plunged, until it was buried completely inside me, the 
two cocks feeling as if they would certainly split me in two. But 
remarkably, with just a thin wall of tissue separating them, they did not 
tear me apart, but they did drive me wild. 

"Oh! Oh! Oh! I can't take it. I can't stand it!" 

I began to sob then, not out of pain, or humiliation or anything like that 
but the most intense feeling of passion I have ever experienced. It started 
in my cunt and asshole, but spread throughout my body, until my very mind 
seemed to be rocking between their pounding pistons of flesh. 

And that was when I noticed the man standing in front of me, his cock 
dangling by my mouth, ready for his turn. 

"Suck it, whore." 

I opened up, and he shoved forward, placing his hand at the back of my head, 
so that I had no where to go when the cock head slammed against the back of 
my throat. 

Luckily, for me, the man with the long cock was in my ass, and reaming me 
but good, or I would have choked. 

I began eating his dick, blowing it like I had never blown another dick 
before. I was driven on by the simultaneous cunt and butt fucking I was 
getting. As my body was thrashed back and forth between the two cocks, my 
head was held still, and a third demanding cock pounded in and out of my 
captive mouth. It was incredible. 

It was the ultimate sex trip, having three hard dicks driving into my naked 
body, trying to go deeper with each thrust. 

But then the fourth man appeared. He stood next to my face and grinned at me 
as he watched the slick, veins pecker slide into my puckered lips. 

"Think there's room for two?" he asked. 

I could not believe my ears. He expected me to take two cocks into my mouth 
at once. 

"Sure," replied his friend. 

He pulled back until just the head of his dripping organ was in my mouth. 

"Open wide, cunt." 

I opened as wide as possible, but they were forced to stretch my lips even 
further apart, as they finally managed to force both cockheads into my 
orifice. 

Then the gang-bang really began. 

Now I was skewered by not one, not two, not even three, but four rock-hard 
cocks, and I felt as if my body were being ripped apart. 

As the man in my cunt fucked me, he also pulled and tugged on my breasts, 
watching them dance to the obscene rhythm of the two cocks flying in and out 
of me. They were all grunting and laughed, thrilling to the way I gagged, or 
squirmed or moaned, trying to drive me beyond the point of reality with 
their merciless fucking. 

I was not worried though, for I knew that Mrs. O'Tets was watching, and she 
would not let anything happen to me. 

On and on it went, the dicks flying in and out, the room now silent except 
for the strange sucking noises my body made as the blood-engorged dicks 
pulled at the dripping wet walls of my cunt or mouth. 

Then they began to come. 

The one in my cunt first, the bald man. He started shooting wads of steaming 
semen into my twat, and I tried to scream from the feeling of pleasure as he 
coated my womb with his hot seed. 

But the dicks stuffed into my aching mouth prevented it, of course. 

Then my ass received a generous load of spunk, which set my bowels on fire, 
as the man went wild inside my rectum, twisting and turning as he spewed his 
sticky load into my shit-chute. 

My tongue was lapping wildly as the dick heads in my mouth, for I was hungry 
for their spunk, and in an instant, just as the other two men were pulling 
out, they came also. 

One at a time, they dumped their loads of sweet cream into my mouth, 
blasting it all over my flat, outstretched tongue, so that I could taste 
each and every bittersweet drop of semen. 

There was so much of it, I almost choked, but I forced myself to keep 
control, because I did not know when I would have two hot loads of spunk 
blasting into my mouth again. 

It was like drinking water from a hose, like I used to do when I was little, 
for as one built up another spurt of jism, the other was already shooting, 
so there was a constant flow of scum into my mouth. 

"On her face," I heard one man laugh. 

One fellow pulled out, and started to shoot off onto my face. He blasted 
across my eyes and over the bridge of my button-nose. Then he poured some 
white love honey over my sore, puckered lips and shook off his last drops on 
my red, throbbing tits. 

The other load was all spent in my mouth, and after collecting it all in my 
mouth, I swallowed it down and felt it slip into my tummy. Now, I was 
satisfied. 

The men all pulled back, and let me drop, exhausted, on the floor. 

The scum was drying on my face, and leaking out of my two ravaged holes as 
they dressed, and Mrs. O'Tets appeared to collect the fee. 

"She was good," said the bald man, "she was real good. And what a pretty 
girl, too. It's unbelievable that she's such a whore." 

I just lay there and felt my body throbbing. Every opening felt satisfied, 
and the sweet scum tasted so good in my mouth. 

Mrs. O'Tets had been right, it had been so easy. 

"Aldim, would you leave me alone!" 

"But Mr. Honeypot," simpered my father, "It wasn't my fault. He just didn't 
want to talk business." 

"I paid all of that money to send you up there, and you come back 
empty-handed," replied the old man. "This vacation of yours is going to have 
to come out of your pay. I'll deduct a little per week." 

"Then you're not going to fire me?" 

"Not this time." 

I had heard enough. I walked out of Mr. Honeypot's office annoyed. Dad had 
not gotten the man at the Poconos to change his contract, and the boss was 
mad. 

But he had no right to be. It wasn't Dad's fault. 

I was not all that upset, however, because the vacation seemed to have 
brought Dad and Hillary close together once again. They had come home 
laughing and smiling, and I wondered if somehow they had solved Dad's 
problem that weekend. 

I was to find out later that they had not, but Hillary was more accepting of 
the fact now. She cared for Dad whether or not her could fuck her. 

But I'm getting ahead of myself. 

Everything was pretty quiet for a couple of weeks. Eddy was still seeing me, 
and he did not try any more of his tricks. Dad and Hillary were happy. I was 
still turning tricks, but Mrs. O'Tets didn't arrange anymore parties because 
they lasted too long, and I was so tired I slept almost all of the next day. 

But then things began to happen. Slowly, at first, but then faster and 
faster. 

I had just finished getting a vigorous fucking from a well known television 
newscaster, and I was lying on the couch, watching the scum drip out of my 
twat. It had been a slow evening, and I had only been fucked twice. 

"Margie," said Mrs. O'Tets, "do you realize how much money we've earned 
since we've started our little business?" 

"Lots." 

I knew because I had a bankbook that I kept hidden in my drawer, under my 
panties, that held a huge figure in it. I had not decided exactly what to do 
with it yet. 

I either wanted to tour Europe or buy an expensive sports car. The only real 
problem was explaining where I got it all from to Dad, but I was certain to 
come up with something in a pinch. 

"You've been doing well in your leather business, too, lately," I commented. 
"I see all those boxes you get." 

"Yes," smiled the old dear, "business is really booming." 

"Just what is your new secret?" I asked. 

Mrs. O'Tets looked at me, and I could see she was making a decision. 

"Do you really want to see?" she asked. 

"Of course." 

"Okay. Sunday afternoon, come over to the apartment. Get here before eleven, 
though. And I'll show you my new sales techniques." 

I was extremely interested, especially because Mrs. O'Tets was being so 
mysterious. She wouldn't tell me a thing, other than to show up on Sunday. 

When the weekend finally rolled around, I was really excited to see what 
Mrs. O'Tets had dreamed up in the last few weeks to make her business boom 
like it had been, so I rushed downstairs and she showed me in. 

The first thing I noticed was the living room. It was like a showroom. There 
were leather corsets on the couch. Boots of all types arranged on the 
tables. Whips hung on the walls, and other garments were on chairs and 
shelves. 

It looked like a leather goods shop. 

"What are you doing?" I asked. 

"I began thinking about Bupperware parties," she grinned. "I figured that if 
Bupperware sells so much from their parties, then why couldn't I do the same 
thing? 

"I mean, after all, there are people very interested in leather goods as 
well as plastic containers." 

As usual, she was absolutely correct. 

"Now," she said, "what I want you to do is hide in the hall closet, Margie." 

"Hide? Why? I'll just make believe I'm an interested customer." 

"You can't do that either." 

"Why not?" 

"You'll find out in a little while," she replied. "Now stop arguing with me 
and get into that closet. Are you in for a surprise." 

With a shrug of my shoulders, I walked into the closet. It was quite large 
and roomy, so I did not feel in the least confined. 

"Now I'm going to leave the door open just a crack," explained the dear 
lady, and you will have a clear view of the entire living room. Just make 
sure not to make any noise,." 

"I'll be quiet. Don't worry." 

The doorbell buzzed. 

"Okay, get ready," said Mrs. O'Tets. 

She closed the door, leaving me a crack, and I was able to see all of the 
living room. I even pulled a box over and sat on it, so it was as if I had a 
ringside seat at the party. 

The customers began to arrive, and I must admit that I was surprised to see 
that there were women coming to the party as well as men. For some reason, I 
had simply presumed that it would be all men. 

But the ratio of males to females was about evenly split. 

There were all types of people, bankers, society women, professionals, and I 
even noticed Mrs. O'Tets' physician among the crowd of about ten people. 

Mrs. O'Tets was handing out homemade cookies, and serving coffee or tea, or 
booze, depending on what the people wanted, while they all wandered about 
the living room, looking at the latest fashions, pulling on the straps to 
see how strong they were, and snapping the whips playfully. 

It was clear from the way that they were handling the merchandise that these 
people knew quality, and that these leather goods were well-made. 

"Beautiful," smiled one man, as he held a harness device that connected the 
neck, ankles and wrists of the wearer together, rendering her, or him, 
totally helpless. 

"You always have the best," smiled a portly, middle-aged women, with hair 
the color of an aluminum pot. 

"Doesn't she, though," replied another lady. 

It was sort of interesting seeing these people checking out the goods, 
handling a studded whip as if it were a scarf in a department store, but 
after awhile, it began to get boring. 

I could not understand why Mrs. O'Tets had forced me to hide in the closet. 

"Already, everybody," she said in her sweet, but cracked, voice, "time for 
the fashion show." 

Everybody immediately brightened up, as well as myself, and they tried to 
find a seat. Most of them were forced to stand, and they all faced the 
hallway that led from Mrs. O'Tets' bedroom. 

It was obvious that most of them, if not all of them, had been through this 
before, and were eagerly awaiting this part of the party. 

Nestled in the closet, comfortably seated on a big box, so was I. I felt 
there was no harm in my enjoying myself, so I parted my legs and slid my 
hand up my dress, so I could rub my little clitoris. 

"Let the show begin," said Mrs. O'Tets. 

At that signal, a beautiful, long-legged woman strode out of the bedroom, 
wearing an expensive mink coat. I almost gasped when I realized that the 
model was Hillary! 

She looked very stately and cool, with her hair piled on top of her head, 
and her head slightly turned up, as if she were some haughty bitch. 

She was wearing six inch spike heels, and then, after a reasonable pause, 
she threw open her beautiful mink and allowed it to drop into Mrs. O'Tets' 
waiting arms. 

I fell off my box, but thank goodness I didn't make any noise. I had never 
been so shocked in my life, for Hillary was half nude under the coat, 
wearing some of Mrs. O'Tets' most provocative leather goods. 

"Madame is wearing one of our newest designs," said Mrs. O'Tets, reading off 
of a little index card she was holding. "Her shapely legs are covered with 
our thigh high black leather boots, adorned with studs along the sides. 

"She has on a matching pair of gloves, also with studs. But the really 
striking part of this ensemble is the leather corset she is wearing. 

"Notice how it hugs her slim body, showing off all the right places and 
making her unbearably tempting." 

It certainly was showing off all the right places. 

The corset only reached up to the bottom of Hillary's magnificent tits, 
maybe a little higher, and it had the effect of pushing up her milky globes 
and smashing them together slightly. 

The result was to make her look incredibly busty, almost top heavy, with a 
deep, alluring cleavage, and nipples that pointed straight up in the air. 

"The waist of this garment can be pulled as tight as possible, as you can 
see on Madame's narrow waist, accentuating the hips and legs of the wearer. 

"There is no bottom to the garment, so both holes are open to the slightest 
whim and fancy. The edges, you will notice, are trimmed in the finest black 
lace, giving a strikingly feminine look to the cold leather. 

"The construction of the corset is of the sturdiest quality, and it is made 
of the finest leather. It will not tear or rip, and will fit almost all 
sizes. 

"And for that special touch, Madame is wearing a studded leather choker. It 
is just tight enough to made her feel constrained, and yet not tight enough 
to choke. It is, of course, adjustable, so you can make it tighter or looser 
as you desire." 

All of this time, Hillary was twirling about and walking among the people, 
showing off not only the leather clothes she was wearing, but her body as 
well. Her firm ass cheeks were visible under the bottom end of the corset, 
as was her pussy. I noticed that her cunt patch was a soft blonde color, and 
looked very sexy. 

The men, I could see, were appreciating her naked tits, ass and cunt as much 
as they were appreciating her outfit, if not more. In fact, as she walked 
around among them, they often reached out and petted her ass, or squeezed 
one of her tits. 

Then, she began assuming a variety of positions, to show of the outfit. But 
it also served to show off her cunt, and ass as well. She looked so 
incredibly lewd kneeling there, or squatting with her pussy lips apart, that 
I had a small orgasm as I fingered myself in the closet. 

Now I understood why Mrs. O'Tets made me hide in the closet. If Hillary had 
seen me there, she would have died. I still could not understand what a 
wealthy, beautiful woman like Hillary was doing parading around in obscene 
leather outfits allowing men to fondle her lovely body. 

But I knew that Mrs. O'Tets had something to do with it. 

The party lasted a bit longer, and then Mrs. O'Tets began to take orders. 
All of the women crowded about Mrs. O'Tets, while most of the men crowded 
about Hillary. I could hear them making obscene suggestions to her, asking 
her what kind of fuck she was, offering her ten bucks to blow them, and all 
the while, allowing their hands to roam over her body. 

It was unbelievable to sit there and watch Hillary stand there and let them 
pull her nipples and finger her cunt. And I mean finger it. I actually saw 
two fingers roughly shoved up her twat and worked in and out for several 
minutes. by then, it was getting late, and the men gave their orders and 
then all of them left. 

Hillary did not say much, but went into the bedroom and emerged very shortly 
wearing her usual clothes and left. 

"Well, Margie," said Mrs. O'Tets, opening the door, "were you surprised?" 

"I'll say. How did you ever get her to do it?" 

"She asked me," replied the old woman. 

"What! I don't believe it." 

"She came back a few days after our photo session and we looked at the 
photos, and we discussed how it might be if she were to model a bit, just 
for a select audience, of course. 

"I told her she wouldn't have to do anything perverse, just model, like a 
professional, and she was more than happy. 

"She really gets off on this modeling. I mean, she really gets hot. The 
first time, I will admit, she was a bit scared and ashamed, but she got such 
good compliments that she soon forgot her fears. 

"The only thing that upset her a bit was when one of the men pinched her 
cunt. That kind of freaked her out, but now, as you saw, she really has 
learned to enjoy the little attentions of the male customers." 

"I never would have believed it if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes." 

"And that was what has made my leather business such a success. I mean, who 
else has a beautiful woman modeling their goods?" 

"Mrs. O'Tets, you're a genius." Mrs. O'Tets looked at the fistful of dollars 
and smiled. 

"I don't know if I'm a genius, but I'm certainly a businesswoman." 

"We could have some party if you combined these things," I laughed. 

Mrs. O'Tets' eyes widened. 

"Why, Margie, what a wonderful idea! Why didn't I think of that? Of course, 
it's a natural. A combination leather sale and orgy. We could invite ... oh, 
a dozen men." 

"You, Margie, are a genius." 

My mind was already racing at the thought of what Mrs. O'Tets was planning. 
Twelve men, sharing Hillary and I. That was six men a piece. My mouth 
watered and my cunt ached. 

I doubted that Hillary could handle more than three, four at the most. That 
would leave the rest for me. 

"How soon can you arrange it?" I asked. 

"Let me see if I can get in touch with the best of my clients and find out 
if they are available on the same day." 

"Oh, this is going to be such fun," smiled Margie. 

 CHAPTER EIGHT 

Mrs. O'Tets said she'd set it up for two weeks from now. She had to convince 
Hillary to take that big step to letting men use her body as they desired. 
She did not think it would be very hard to do. 

So, I had to contain my excitement, and confine my sex to the regular 
customers that came by. 

But things were beginning to happen. 

"God, what a twat on that bitch," complimented one of my customers, shortly 
after he had spilled his hot seed inside of me. 

I was still stretched out on the couch, my legs parted and my cunt scummy. 
He had been one hell of a fucker, and had ended a long and strenuous night. 

It seemed that at the end of the month, every male was horny. I don't know 
if it had to do with the full moon, or what, but all I know is that at the 
end of each month, my sessions were always the busiest. 

That night, I had serviced seven men. 

Two had dumped their sperm into my mouth, four in my cunt and one on my 
belly and chest. My cunt had really been made sore by the last fucking, 
however, for the man seemed like he was never going to come, and after the 
last three fucks, my hole was hot and red. 

Mrs. O'Tets helped me to the shower and I got cleaned up, but I was still 
sore as hell. 

"You'd better go right to bed when you get home," Mrs. O'Tets told me. "Your 
father will probably be worried." 

"Dad's out with Hillary tonight, so he won't be back yet," I informed her. 
"Imagine if he was at one of your leather parties, and saw her parading 
around in front of all of those men." 

Mrs. O'Tets laughed. 

"By the way, has any of that leather stuff helped Dad over his ... problem?" 

"Well," said Mrs. O'Tets, "Hillary once brought a magazine along with her 
that I had given her, and showed it to Dern. It was a hot bondage book, and 
I mean hot. But when your father saw it, he got all upset. 

"It seems that any sort of sex upsets him. So I'm afraid that his problem is 
still there. Hillary is simply trying to overlook it, acting as if by 
ignoring it, it will go away." 

"That's probably one of the reasons she's doing this modeling thing for 
you," I suggested. 

"Exactly," replied the little old lady. "A woman can only repress her sexual 
urges so long. That is why she is doing the modeling, and that is also the 
reason I will be able to talk her into being one of the hostesses at our 
little party." 

The mere thought of the orgy that was coming up made me drip, and I was 
thinking about it as I got into the elevator. 

Faithful Willy was there, but when I walked in, staggering a bit because my 
cunt ached, I seemed to notice a new look in his eyes. 

"Hello, Miss Margie," he said. 

I smiled, and went over to him, still feeling horny. 

"Hi, Willy," I responded, and brought my red lips very close to his large, 
bluish-brown ones. 

To my surprise, he did not pull away. 

He merely stared at my lips, and breathed heavy, and that was when I noticed 
a strange smell on his breath. After a second, I realized it was liquor. 

I pulled back and scowled at him. 

"Willy, have you been drinking?" 

He turned away from me, and closed the elevator doors. 

Now that got me real mad, for he wasn't about to ignore me. 

I moved up right next to him, and rubbed my ass against his. Then I slid my 
hand behind him and pinched his ass. 

When I did so, I felt something hard in his back pocket, under his jacket. 
My hand moved to the pocket, and I was able to make out the form of a pint 
flask. 

I was right, he had been drinking. 

Willy, in the meantime, was not unaffected by my touches. He was breathing 
more heavily, and sweat was beginning to appear on his forehead. He looked 
at me and said nothing, but I sensed something unfamiliar in his stare. 

I was still annoyed that there was no response to my presence, but I assumed 
it was due to the fact that Willy was partially bombed. 

After that, I stopped trying, because it was no fun if he didn't do 
anything. 

But he did not stop looking at me in that strange way. He was sweating 
profusely now, but he did not seem nervous or frightened of me, the way he 
always did. 

Then I noticed that the elevator was still going up. 

We had already passed the floor I lived on and were heading for the top 
floor. 

"See, Willy, that proves that you've been drinking. You've already passed my 
floor. You'd better go down." 

But it was as if he had not heard me, and the elevator just kept climbing, 
until it reached the floor below the roof. Then he stopped and opened the 
door. 

There were no apartments on that floor. Well, actually, it wasn't really a 
floor, just a small alcove that held a few building materials and the 
elevator. It was more of the entrance way to the roof. 

"I said take me to my apartment," I demanded, a bit angrily. 

I did not like the way he was looking at me. It was ... mean. That's what it 
was, mean. 

He walked over to me and took my hand and began leading me out of the 
elevator, after switching off the power, so that it could not leave. 

"Willy, let go of me!" I protested. 

That was when he hit me. 

He struck me lightly, with the back of his hand, but it was the mere action 
of his hostility, rather than the force of the blow which silenced me. 

"Shut up, Miss Margie!" he snapped. 

He dragged me along by the hand, to the door, and then out onto the roof of 
the tall apartment building. 

"Willy, let me go. Let me go!" I demanded. 

"I told you to shut up, bitch!" 

Another blow, this time a bit harder than the first. 

Now I was really scared. It was clear now that Willy wasn't just a bit 
tipsy, but really drunk, and I feared what he was going to do. 

"All the time you and your father have been living here," he snarled, as he 
dragged me across the roof, "you been teasin' me, stickin' you ass in my 
face, cuddlin' up next to me. And now you gonna git paid back." 

"What ... what do you mean?" 

We scurried along the roof, and I kept stumbling on bits of tar-paper that 
were coming up from the surface, and pieces of wood that were strewn here 
and there. I could see that we were headed for a spot near the chimney. 

"If you don't know already, cunt, you gonna find out real soon." 

Finally, he stopped pulling me. 

We were in a little out of the way nook, that was created by the chimney, 
and some ventilation fans. From there, no one on higher buildings could see 
us, even if they were looking. 

"Willy, I want to go back downstairs. Now!" 

He laughed, a deep, long, malicious laugh, and then pulled the bottle og 
booze out of his back pocket and took a long swig on it, draining it dry. He 
looked at the bottle and then threw it to the side. 

"You're goin' down, alright, Miss Margie," he grinned. 

Then he pushed me and I tripped backwards and fell onto the rough surface, 
ripping my dress. 

"Look what you've done!" I screamed. 

As was now sort of kneeling in front of him, my legs tucked under me, trying 
to repair the ripped side of my dress. Willy stood right in front of me, and 
his crotch was even with my head, and I could see a fat bulge in his pants. 

"Remeber how you was askin' me if black men had extra big dicks?" he asked. 

"I never asked you that." 

"Oh, no, dat's right. You never use dirty words, does you, Miss Cocktease. 
You jes kept askin' if it was true. If it was true that black men is so big. 
Well, now you gonna find out, bitch." 

Saying this, he ripped his pants open and whipped his erect cock out. 

It was big. Big, long and rock hard. It was not the largest I had ever seen, 
but close to it. The head was incredibly big, though, and was like a small 
purple plum at the end of straight shaft. 

"Get a good look at it, Miss Margie," he chuckled, "so you won't have to ask 
me 'bout it no more." 

He gripped the tool in his hands. 

"Take a look at the veins, and at that fat, padded head. Take a nice long 
look, before you suck on it." 

This time it was my eyes that grew wide. 

It all became suddenly clear to me. He was going to rape me! 

"Now Willy, don't do anything you're going to regret later." 

"I don't intend on it, Miss Margie." 

And with that last remark, he grabbed my head and forced my mouth down over 
his cock. 

With his first thrust, he jammed the steaming cock deep into my mouth, and 
partially down my throat. I gagged a bit, until I got used to the cock 
lodged in my throat, and then I began sucking on it. 

I realized that he was not going to let me go until he had come, so I 
figured I might as well get this over with as fast as possible. 

My tongue went to work, and as he slid the cock in and out of my talented 
mouth, he licked and slurped at his lengthy licorice stick, tickling the 
knobby head with each outward stroke. 

"Oh, Looooord, Miss Margie," he crooned, "You mouth is certainly 
deeelightful." 

He grabbed handfuls of my brown hair as he kept face fucking me, smashing 
his crotch against my face, ramming his tool all the way into my gullet, 
faster and faster with each passing second. 

Saliva was running down my chin, for it was difficult to keep my lips tight 
with his wild pelvic gyrations, and the sound of my forced blow-job filled 
the still, night air, but I was beginning to enjoy it. 

His cock tasted good. It seemed to have a diffrent flavor than white meat. I 
had never blown a black man before, or in fact had any sex with a black man. 
all my clients were white, and I was enjoying this new dick. 

Soon my hands had hold of his balls, and I was kneading them and feeling how 
smooth they were. They were remarkably unhairy, and they shifted and 
squirmed in my fingers as Willy tried to jam his cock all the way into my 
stomach. 

"That's it, little bitch, keep on suckin' dat tube. Keep dat mouth goin', 
cause you gonna get a treat any second." 

When I realized he meant a mouthful of sperm, my cunt got wet, and I 
redoubled my frenzied cocksucking, until I felt his dick begin to kick. 

"Here it comes, sugar. Here it comes. Got a nice mouthful of black scum fo' 
you. Drink it up, Miss Margie. Eat all of my Nigger scum!" 

He held my head steady and poured out his wad. It was so thick, that I 
thought it was pudding a first. It blasted onto my tongue and coated the 
roof of my mouth. Now my lips were tight, for I was not about to allow any 
of this luscious scum to escape me. 

Bolt after bolt of hot, thick semen poured into my mouth, and I was gulping 
it down as fast as he gave it to me. The flavor was quite heady, and I felt 
dizzy as Willy used my mouth for his scumbag. 

Then, in an instant, he pulled out, and pushed me back flat on the roof. He 
ripped my panties off of me, and forced my legs open. 

"We ain't done yet, bitch," he grinned, as he threw himself on top of me. 
"I'm just beginning." 

He didn't have to hold my legs apart. I was quite happy to give him what he 
wanted now. At the touch of his cock to my cunt lips, I came, and it made it 
all the more easy for him to force his big dong inside of me. 

"Oh, christ," he moaned. "You are hot." 

He didn't know it was due to the fact that my pussy was slightly swollen 
from the four other fuckings I had gotten that evening. But I didn't care. 
Let him think I was a virgin. 

"Now you really gonna git it. Hard and fast, cunt." 

He plowed into me with one savage thrust, pushing in the lips of my cunt, 
and making me gasp in pleasure. 

"Dis is fo' all the times you was teasin' me, and tormentin' me and 
embarrassin' me, Miss Margie," he said, as he shafted me but good. 

He was' like a sex machine, sending his piston of hard, black flesh in and 
out of my defenseless little pussy. He didn't care if it hurt or not, all he 
wanted to do was punish me for what I had done to him. 

But far from punishing me, he was delighting me. He was bringing me to 
another orgasm as he fucked the shit out of me. 

It was good, so good. 

His dick ripped in and out of my twat, making a lewd sucking noise as it did 
so. All the time, I squirmed and twisted underneath him, stifling my sobs of 
pleasure and passion. 

"Cunt, bitch, pig," he snorted as he fucked me, like a wild animal that had 
gone mad. 

And as he fucked me, his hands pulled down the front of my dress and my bra 
and were squeezing and pulling at my jugs, making them ache with the same 
pleasure that my cunt was aching with. 

"Now, Miss Margie, now, move it!" 

I began to shove my hips about wildly, as he drove his cock all the way up 
inside me. As I wiggled my cunt about, he came, spurting his come deep into 
my cunt, coating my vagina with his thick, hot fluid. It felt so good, so 
good, and after awhile, I just lay there and felt the dick kicking and 
spurting, kicking and spurting, over and over again. 

He pulled out, wiped his cock off on my dress and zipped up. 

"Come on, git up, bitch. I gotta take you home before anyone notices." 

He pulled me to my feet, and I left my panties lying on the roof, for some 
worker to find someday and wonder what went on up there. 

We got in the elevator and he started it up. 

"Now it was my turn to put him through the wringer, for I could not allow 
him to rape me and get away with it. "You know, I'm going to go to the 
police," I told him. "I'm going to tell everyone about what you did to me. 
You're not going to get away with raping and sodomizing me." 

But instead of whimpering, he smiled. 

"Ain't no one gonna believe a whore," he stated. 

I was taken back. Had he merely used that term because I was a tease, or did 
he know something? 

"What are you talking about?" 

"Listen, don't try hustlin' me, bitch. I know that you're a prostitute, Miss 
Margie." 

I could not speak. 

"What you think I am, blind and deaf and dumb? Who do you think take all of 
those men to Mrs. O'Tets apartment? Who you think takes them down to the 
lobby again, all grinnin' and happy? Me, that's who. 

"I knows what's goin' on. Don't doubt that. I knows all about what Mrs. 
O'Tets gets in those big boxes. I know it all, Miss Margie. 

"So don't go tellin' me you're goin' to the police because I took something 
from you without payin'. Don't make me laugh." 

The elevator stopped and he opened the doors. 

"Good night, Miss Margie." 

I walked numbly into the apartment, and that was when my teeth began to 
chatter, he knew. Now what would happen? I thought about it for awhile, and 
then began to realize that he had known about it for awhile now, and he had 
never down anything. 

He wasn't about to call the police. All he wanted was a little piece every 
now and then, and that wasn't so bad. 

I showered and went right to sleep. 

The next morning, it didn't seem so bad. I had nothing to worry about, 
really, because it was obvious that Willy was not about to say anything. 

"Good morning, Margie," said my father. 

"Oh, hi, Dad," I smiled. 

"Mrs. O'Tets called this morning, but you were still sleeping. She said to 
call her as soon as you get up." 

I ran to the phone, and Mrs. O'Tets told me to come down to her apartment. I 
considered using the stairs, but knew that I could not avoid seeing Willy 
forever, so I rang for the elevator. 

"Good morning, Miss Margie," he said, as casual as ever. "Lovely day, ain't 
it." 

Then I knew I was safe. He was acting the same as always, and the fun on the 
roof would remain our little secret. 

"Yes, just perfect," I smiled. 

Mrs. O'Tets had good news. 

"The party is all set, Margie. This' weekend, and it will last all Saturday 
night." 

"But Dad won't let me stay here." 

"But it's not going to be here," she replied. "It's going to be at Hillary's 
apartment." 

"Hillary's?" 

"Yes. My apartment is too small for all the action that will be going on, 
after all there will be a dozen men there. So she offered to have it at her 
place." 

"How did you finally convince her?" 

"Well, let's say that the photos helped change her mind. She thought it 
would be just awful for them to be printed anywhere. I can't understand why. 
I find them very flattering myself." 

We both laughed. 

"And did you tell her about me?" 

"Well, sort of. I told her you were sort of in a similar position, that you 
owed me a favor, and this was how you were going to make up for it. Just in 
case there ever was any trouble, I wanted you to be in the clear." 

"You are so thoughtful," I stated. 

"Then it's all set. Get yourself ready for a wild time." 

The weekend arrived before I realized it, and I took a cab with Eddy over to 
Hillary's luxurious apartment on the east side. 

"But Margie," he whined, "why can't we go out on Saturday night? You'll be 
away from your father, and we'll be able to stay out real late. We'll have a 
good time." 

I couldn't tell Eddy that I was going to have a much better time at 
Hillary's than I could ever have with him. 

"No, Eddy, I want to spend some time with Hillary. After all, Dad and she 
might get married, so I want to know her well." 

He was angry I could tell it. 

"You know Margie, sometimes I don't understand you." 

I kissed him on the nose and got out of the cab. The elevator shot me up to 
Hillary's apartment, and she gave me a big hug when I entered. 

"Now don't get all nervous Margie, this evening will be over before we know 
it. It won't be that bad. Mrs. O'Tets promised me that she's only having 
gentle men come over tonight." 

I refrained from smiling, and prepared myself for the party. 

It began at ten, and the men began to arrive in small groups. Many of them 
knew each other, and they were eager to get going. 

Mrs. O'Tets had also arrived, for she was never far from where the action 
was, and she was playing hostess as usual, as Hillary dressed in leather and 
I slipped into my robe. by the time there were seven men there, the party 
began. There was no point to wait for the rest. When they arrived, they 
could just join in, and in that way, not too many men would have to wait for 
an opening with their dicks hanging out. 

I watched Hillary get grabbed by two young men, no older than myself, and 
dragged into a corner. They held her by her big tits and arms, and it seemed 
as if she were struggling a bit as they pulled her down to the floor. 

Soon they had pried her legs apart, and one of them was forcing his cock 
into her snatch while the other was trying to force his dick into her 
resisting mouth. 

"On your knees," said a voice, and I looked up to see the familiar bald man 
that had gang-banged me once before. "This cunt gives great head," he told 
the others. "You should all try her out before you shoot your loads." 

And so they did. I was thrilled to have five men crowded about my kneeling 
form, shoving dicks at my face and forcing me to suck on them, one after 
another, without end. They laughed and kidded and rubbed their wet cocks all 
over my back and arms and face, and one guy started to come in my mouth. 

"Drink it. Drink it!" 

"Don't worry. She loves the stuff," said the bald man. 

I drained him dry and let the men see me gulp down his wad of semen, then 
licked my lips dry and went on to a fresh dick. 

"Get me off, cunt," demanded the man. It seemed he wanted to come in my 
mouth too. 

I didn't mind, though, because the night was young and I knew that there 
were going to me plenty of cocks rammed into my burning pussy. 

I drew his dick into my mouth and licked and pulled on it, until it was 
swollen and throbbing, and I kneaded the balls, trying to get that yummy 
scum up and out and into my mouth. 

"Open wide, bitch," he groaned. 

I opened my mouth as far as it would go and let my tongue hang out. The men 
all crowded about me, to watch this hot little nympho jerk a man's cock off 
into her mouth, drinking his sperm like a child drinks the cool water of a 
hose on a hot day. They simply could not believe that I was letting it shot 
into my mouth as I was, allowing them to actually watch wad after thick wad 
dumped into my mouth, and then vanish into my stomach. 

When he was done, I was pushed back onto the floor and they began fucking 
me. 

Turning my head, I was able to see that Hillary was getting nice and hard 
also. The man had stopped trying to get a blow job and had gone to an easier 
entrance, her asshole. 

Her body was up in the air, sandwiched between the two horny studs, and they 
were fucking the shit out of her. Excuse the expression. 

She was crying out wildly, as if she were hysterical, but in her yelps, I 
could sense that tone of wild abandon, that touch of satisfaction. She was 
getting the shit ripped out of her by both powerful, demanding cocks, and 
loving every second of it. 

Someone blasted off inside my cunt, and pulled out in time to shoot a few 
globs of scum on my belly. 

I automatically rubbed it in and then waited for the next one. 

In the meantime, the doorbell rang, and Mrs. O'Tets let in some more men, 
with fresh, new hard-ons, that were anxious to be stuffed into a hot, 
dripping pussy. 

It sooned turned out, that there were more men than Mrs. O'Tets had 
expected. It seemed that some of the steady customers who had been asked to 
come, and also invited some close friends to attend. 

I really lost count of how many times I was fucked, but I recall semen 
splashing all over me, as some man pumped off his load onto my face and 
crisscrossed it on my chest, leaving my nipples dripping his thick jism. 

"OH, GOD, I'M COMING!" was the scream that pierced the room. 

It had come from Hillary. She was surrounded by a gaggle of men, and they 
were really sticking it to her. I guess the leather was turning them on or 
something, but they were really acting a bit roughly towards her. 

They didn't wait for her to respond to a command or anything, they just 
grabbed her turned her over and slipped it to her. And they were slipping it 
to her everywhere, up her cunt, in her ass, down her throat and one guy even 
jerked off into her long, blonde hair, squirted a few shots over her face as 
well. 

Then three of them took her at once, and I just giggled as I heard her 
muffled grunts of passion. 

The smell of semen filled the room, and everywhere were the moans of orgasm 
or the soft slurping of a hard cock slipping in and out of a come-filled 
hole. 

It was divine. 

The party began to break up about three in the morning. By that time, all 
three of my holes were dripping come. Even my stomach was full, and I was 
quite a mess. 

But that was nothing compared to Hillary's condition. 

I don't know how many men had used her, but she lay motionless on the floor, 
her legs splayed and eyes closed. She was literally covered with come. It 
was all over her face, like a facial mask, dripping off her big tits, 
covering her thighs and even leaking from her mouth. 

This was certainly an evening she would not forget. That was when the last 
bunch of guests arrived. They had been detained because there car had gotten 
a flat. There were five of them, business men from New Jersey, and I simply 
couldn't say no. 

They all took their positions and I was soon getting it up the ass, in the 
cunt and in my mouth, all at the same time. The other two pulled on my 
nipples and got ready for their turn as soon as there was an opening. 

It was at this point that the doorbell rang again, and you can imagine my 
surprise when the door opened and I could see my father and Eddy walk in! 

"Margie!" screamed my father. 

Eddy was too shocked to say anything. 

Dad ran over to me, and stood there and watched in horror as the three men 
shared my body. I saw his eyes flying from the cock plowing my pussy, to the 
dick plugging my ass and then to the cock stuffed down my throat. 

Eddy, strangely enough, did not come over to me, but ran over to the limp 
form of Hillary instead. I could see him staring at her spread body still 
glistening with come, and then I saw him rubbing his crotch, as his dick 
grew larger. 

"Be my guest," said the irrepressible Mrs. O'Tets. 

Eddy unzipped his pants and dropped down between Hillary's legs. He guided 
his tool into her come-drenched cunt and began fucking like a stallion. 

"Uhhhh, what, who?" muttered Hillary weakly. 

She was just able to look up and see Eddy grinning at her as he plugged her 
already over-worked hole. Then she dropped back and let him ram his dick in 
and out of her cunt until she was moaning in pleasure once again. 

Meanwhile, I got a shot of semen in the mouth, and I swallowed it all down 
and then pulled the next dick into my throat. A strand of spunk connected my 
lips to the spent cock, glistening and swaying, an obscene connection, but I 
licked it away as Dad watched, and blew the next man. 

The others exploded into my ass and cunt, mixing their scum with the spunk 
that was already there, and then they were all finished, having shot all 
five loads into my willing body. 

"Go ahead and take your turn," they said to my father as they left, not 
knowing who he was, "She's the best lay I've ever had." 

My father just looked at me, as I lay exhausted on the floor, dripping 
spunk, then he glanced over at Eddy to see his fiancee getting fucked by the 
young redheaded man, and I could see something was happening. 

He seemed to snap, and he unzipped his fly and produced the biggest, fattest 
hard-on I had ever seen. And I had seen plenty. 

Without saying a word, he dropped down on top of me, and slammed his dick 
into the very cunt that so many men had had before him. 

"Oh, Daddy," I screamed. 

"Oh, Margie!" he replied. 

He slammed his cock into me like it was a pile driver, shaking my entire 
body, making my insides quake with passion. It didn't make any difference 
that I was getting fucked by my own father, for it seemed that his problem 
had been solved by the sight of his little girl getting it from five total 
strangers. 

In and out, in and out, he forced his enormous cock, and it was a good thing 
I was slippery with jism, for it was so big I think I would have died 
otherwise. 

Just then, Eddy shot his load into Hillary, and pulled out. 

Now she sat up, and she and Eddy and Mrs. O'Tets watched Dad fuck me blind. 

When he finally shot his come into me, I was too exhausted to do anything 
more than collapse onto the floor and smile. 

Dern!" cried Hillary, in a feeble voice. "Look at you. You're magnificent!" 

Dad looked down and saw that he was still erect, though his cock oozed come. 

He smiled, and walked over to Hillary with the immense tool. 

"Get out of the way, son," he told Eddy, "and let an expert through." 

Eddy moved, and Dad dropped between Hillary's legs and forced his cock into 
her abused hole. 

Then he began to fuck her, ramming it home so hard she gasped with every 
thruat. 

"Oh, Dern. You're so good," she moaned. "You're so good. You finally seemed 
to have overcome your problem. Thanks to Margie and Mrs. O'Tets." 

"Well," moaned Dad as he came, "that's my little Margie." 

I don't remember the rest of the night. I think I fell asleep. All I recall 
is waking up, and I was so tired that I just went back to sleep until 
sometime in the late afternoon. 

I finally woke to a voice gently calling in my ear. 

I fluttered my eyes, and then opened them, to see Hillary standing over me 
and smiling at me. 

"Oh ... Hillary," I yawned, as I rubbed my eyes and sat up in bed. "What 
time is it?" 

"Almost three," she replied, "You had better get up and have something to 
eat. There's a light lunch waiting for you in the dining room." 

"But before you do, I just want to say thank you, very, very much. And I've 
already thanked Mrs. O'Tets, but I wanted to make sure to thank you 
personally, because Mrs. O'Tets explained to me how upset and concerned you 
were about Dern and me." 

"You mean everything worked out alright?" 

"Wonderful," she giggled. "Your father is able to get it up again, and he 
cares for me more than ever, and he doesn't feel guilty about what he did to 
you, either." 

"That's good," I replied. "He's a good lay." 

"Don't I know it," grinned Hillary. "Thanks again, Margie, for all you've 
done." 

I spent the day on a cloud, because I solved all of Dad's personal problems, 
and his life and Hillary's were much happier now. That evening, as usual, I 
went down to Mrs. O'Tets' for business. 

We talked about the orgy and how well everything had worked out, and then 
the doorbell rang and the clients began to arrive. It was a light night, and 
by ten the last client arrived. I must say that I was not able to check my 
surprise when I saw who it was. "Mr. Honeypot!" 

"That's right, Margie," he replied, as he grinned maliciously as me. "Bob 
Ames gave me the word about you, told me that you were whoring it up in this 
apartment, and said you were well worth the money, too. So here I am. 

He began to immediately undress, and all the time he was watching my body, 
and literally eating me up with his eyes. 

"Hop to it, Margie," he snarled, "I want you to blow me." 

I stripped off my robe, dropped to my knees and went to work. 

His organ was surprisingly big, with a fat, red head and plenty of pulsing 
veins. I gobbled it right down, all the way to the balls and began blowing 
him. 

"I want you to swallow it all," he told me, as he shoved my head up and down 
along his dick, "and then I want the best lay that you ever gave. If you 
don't blow me good enough, or don't move those hips when we're fucking, I'll 
fire your father." 

I felt like biting his dick right off, that bastard. Why did he always have 
to pick on Dad? Dad was conscientious, just spineless, and Mr. Honeypot took 
every advantage of that bad quality. I hated him. 

But I gave him a good cocksucking, because I was a professional, and treated 
all my clients a-like. I sucked and licked at his tool until it was rock 
hard and throbbing, and he was grunting like a pig. 

"Now, lay down, bitch," he growled. 

He threw me on the sofa and jumped on top of me, not even bothering to take 
his pants down. He shoved his prick into my cunt and began slamming it home, 
squeezing my tits as he did so. 

"Ahhhh, this is wonderful, plugging Dern's little girl while he sits in the 
office doing paperwork. What a jerk." 

He "was snorting and dribbling a bit as he plowed me, but he was really 
getting his rocks off fucking the daughter of his vice-president. 

"Tell me how much you love it," he said. 

I had had men play that game before, so I gave him my little prepared 
speech. 

"Oh, god, it's so big, so hard. It feels like you're stuffing it up my 
throat." 

"And you love it, don't you, you little cunt," he smiled. 

"Yes, yes, I love it. I love to have a big, fat, hard cock stuffed up into 
my snatch." 

"God, how did Aldim raise such a little whore?" he asked. "All the time 
playing the dizzy bitch, but actually being a cock hungry nympho. I should 
have slipped you the meat long ago, Margie." 

He was still ramming at me, stuffing me full of his hard pole, making sure 
it wiggled into every corner of my cunt, every crevice, every fold. He must 
have been a good fucker when he was young, but now he lacked that certain 
animal drive that would have made him feel really good. 

"Start moving those hips now, Margie, my little cunt, my little whore, my 
little cocksucker." 

I began to do as he directed, wiggling my hips around wildly, wanting to get 
this over with as fast as possible. 

"Oh, I can hardly wait, Margie. I'll make sure to drop by the apartment 
often with work for your father. And while he goes over it in the living 
room, you can give me a quick head job in the bedroom. I'll see to it that 
you have plenty of scum flowing down that silky throat of yours." 

He was talking about subtle blackmail, and my heart raced as I thought about 
it. What was I to do? 

His face was beet red now, and the sweat was dripping from his white. hair 
and moustache and spilling on me. He was huffing like a maniac, like a whale 
coming up for air, but he was still plugging away. 

"I'm com...." he yelled. 

Then he went into a spasm of energy, and then dropped limp on top of me. I 
could feel his come pumping out into me, but even after he was done, he did 
not move a muscle. 

I grabbed his wrist. There was no pulse. 

"Mrs. O'Tets!" I screamed. 

To make a long story short, he was dead. He had died of a heart attack 
sometime while he was coming. Mrs. O'Tets helped him off of me, and I 
dressed and went for Willy. Willy was very helpful, and the two of us got 
Mr. Honeypot's body to the open elevator, and downstairs. 

We stuffed him in a cab, telling the driver he was drunk. 

It took two weeks for the matter to clear in the courts, but the decision 
was natural causes, and Dad was duly elected as the new president of the 
company. All of this, coupled with the fact that he could fuck again, seemed 
to have made a new man out of Dad. 

He was no longer the spineless jellyfish he had been. 

"Margie," he said to me one day after a date with Hillary, "Hillary and I 
are going to be married!" 

"Terrific!" I howled.. "When was all this decided?" 

"Just this evening," said Hillary. "Your dad proposed, and I accepted. Isn't 
it wonderful?" 

"You said it." 

I rushed over and kissed both of them. 

"It will be great to have a mother once again after all of these years," I 
told Hillary. 

"And it will be great to have a wife again," said Dad, as he hugged her. 

"Mr. Honeypot sure picked a good time to drop off," said my father. "He 
couldn't have planned it any better." 

"No," I agreed, "he couldn't." 

"Go and tell Mrs. O'Tets," Dad said, "I'm sure she'll want to know also." 

As I was turning to leave, I heard Hillary say, "Everything has turned out 
so wonderful, Dern. And to think, it is all thanks to Margie and Mrs. 
O'Tets." 

"Well," smiled Dad, "That's my little Margie." 


THE END
