Peg Sawyer's husband Jim had ail the equipment and knew how to use it--yet she wasn't satisfied. Could Dr. Lon Carter's unusual techniques save her marriage, or was he just out to satisfy his own hunger for far-out sex? And would her husband tolerate her participation in Dr. Carter's unorthodox "sensitivity sessions," or would he leave her and find his pleasure elsewhere? Peg couldn't answer these questions, but she knew she had to do something--and Dr. Carter knew just what that "something" was!
CHAPTER ONE
When Peg Sawyer felt her cunt beginning to drip with joy, she threw her head back and gritted her teeth.
Above her lithe, naked body, her stocky, well-hung husband was working like a Trojan. He had, in fact, been fucking his cute auburn-haired spouse for about twenty minutes now, and the small bed in their furnished apartment was creaking like the bones of an old mule.
"Coming, honey?" he whispered hoarsely, pumping his lean buttocks up and down over the luscious saddle of her loins.
She made no answer, but he could feel the vaginal muscles of her slippery, tight pussy coiling around the base of his stiff prick. Her cunt felt like a warm, soapy fist to him, and that erotic stimulation was driving him out of his mind with lust.
He was too hot and too homy to hold off his orgasm much longer. Every time Peg ran the tips of her fingernails up over his chest she touched the little tack-hard centers of his nipples and made him groan with pleasure.
"Screw me, darling!" she managed, her voice a passion-soaked cry of greed. "Make me come! MAKE ME!"
He was doing his damnedest, he thought, but he wasn't a sex machine. A few more deep, womb-touching strokes and his big prick was going to fill her cunt to the brim with boiling sperm.
He closed his eyes and thought of a thousand different things to hold back the explosion that was growing in his balls. His cock was like a big fuse burning down to the power-laden powder kegs of his testicles, and just a few more seconds of savage fucking...
"Don't come!" she shrilled, digging her fingernails deep into his biceps and lifting her ass high off the bed so his jabbing penis was plugged into her pussy and held immobile.
But nothing could hold back his ravenous desire to unload inside of her.
His prick throbbed against the grainy, hot walls of her cunt, then released a torrent of thick come. She could feel his sperm shooting high up into her, and her uterus dilated to receive it.
The more he pumped his lusty vigor into her, the less pleasure she received. All she could feel was the big, hard column of his prick rammed between her legs and spewing out glut after glut of viscid juice. It was even running down from the stretched, outer lips of her pussy and soaking the crack of her buttocks.
She would have given her left arm to come with him, but it was too late. Her clitoris, which had grown as large and red and erect as a baby's thumb at the zenith of the fucking, now began to soften and relax.
"Damn!" she breathed, feeling a hot wave of new frustration rushing over her body. "Couldn't you have waited?"
He was slumped over her now, his muscular body glued to hers. His fun was over, and now his flesh was beginning to grow a bit sticky and uncomfortable--the way it always did after he had screwed.
He rolled away from her, and his half-swollen prick came slurping out from between the pouting, flushed-pink lips of her unsatisfied cunt.
"Sorry, honey," he said, huskily, "but I couldn't hold off. Not after twenty minutes of doing it like a rabbit!"
She made a deep-throated, sniffing noise. "That's what it felt like--a rabbit!"
He sighed and swung his legs over the side of the bed. His cock was still pointing up a little from between his legs, and the veins were still large along the sides of it. But he knew he couldn't fuck her again. He didn't even want to.
Instead, he reached for a cigarette.
He remained sitting on the edge of the bed for a few seconds, puffing on the cigarette.
Once he glanced back over his shoulder and caught a glimpse of his young wife rubbing the moist, fringed mounds of her cunt as if trying to tease back the forbidden, forgotten pleasure. In an effort to placate her, he arched around and put a hand over her nearest tit. The nipples of both her breasts were still large and pointing, and the one he felt beneath his palm was almost as hard as a bullet.
"Maybe if I rest a few minutes, baby," he began.
But she cut him off with a quick shake of her head. "Go take a shower," she said, coldly.
He left his hand on the warmth of her tit for just a few more seconds, thinking she might change her mind. He was even tempted to ask her to play with his prick, maybe suck on it, and that way he might get hard enough to fuck her. But how did he suggest such a thing to his bride of six months? He had never once eaten her pussy because she had once told him she considered it perverted. And he wasn't going to open a big can of worms by asking her to blow him.
He sighed, and got up from the bed.
She watched him walk out of the bedroom. Her big hero. All broad shoulders and muscular arms. Her stud-man with his narrow waist, lean hips, and seven-inch joystick.
She wondered how in the world she could explain to Dr. Carter that a piece of male like her husband couldn't satisfy her.
And yet she wasn't satisfied.
Her cunt was still hot and itching, and the nagging need to have a climax was making her clit rise up all over again.
She had to fuck something--and now.
When she heard the shower water running, she slipped off the bed and closed the bedroom door. Just for good measure she snapped the lock. Then she hurried over to the dresser and pulled open the top drawer. She couldn't control the carnal throb of her empty cunt.
She found what she was looking for--the large mahogany-handled hairbrush that had once belonged to her grandmother. It was one of those Victorian brushes with a handle the length of a butter knife and almost as big around as the cock of a horse.
With her blood roaring, she carried the brush back to the bed. She had done this before, of course, but usually in the bathroom with the brush handle well greased with Vaseline. But today--now--she didn't need any lubricant. Her pussy was as slick inside as wet liver, and Jim's copious blasts of sperm had made it even slicker.
With a shameless indifference to anything but her lust, she held the brush by the bristle and slowly drove the handle up between the pinkish, parted lips of her cunt.
She loved the way it felt.
By closing her eyes, she could imagine that a big, eternally stiff prick was between her happy legs. Slowly and languorously she began to fuck herself. As the pleasure spread through her loins she curled her toes and raised one hand to caress the bloated little buds at the tips of her tits.
When she got the hairbrush deep into her cunt, the bristles touched the erect and sensitive point of her clitoris, driving her wild with passion.
She kept her eyes closed while a slack grin spread across her flushed face. She was glad that nobody could know what she was thinking because her fantasies began to pile lewdly on top of each other as her orgasm approached.
She imagined herself in a big room full of silk pillows and mirrors, being fucked by a black man with a prick the size of an Arabian stallion. In her heated mind's eye she could see her own ivory and honeyed body contrasted against the ebony skin of her homy fucker. She could visualize her tits being hungrily sucked by the thick, salacious lips of such a stud while his huge dark cock moved continuously in and out of her willing pussy.
The picture in her mind grew so realistic, so lewd, so sluttish that her squirming cunt began to suck like a mouth at the bone-hard handle of the brush.
"Coming...!" she whispered, gritting her teeth and throwing her head back the way she always did before a delicious spasm. "Ah... AAAaahhh!"
Her vagina gave one or two final throbs of pleasure and a fine spray of juices spritzed out over her knuckles. The juices of her orgasm wetted not only her fingers but the dark crack of her ass, as well.
She continued working the huge dildo back and forth in the spunky hotness of her pussy, not giving a damn about the slurping noises being made in the silence of the bedroom. Not caring about anything but the joy of being wantonly satisfied.
At that very moment Jim was just washing the soap off his strong, healthy body. He had his head bent under the tap of the shower and the warm fingers of water were beating tunes against his thickly matted brown hair.
It was something of a sensual feeling, and it reminded him of something Vona Dawson had said to him the other night at the cocktail party she and her husband had thrown. Vona had turned to him with a twinkle in her green eyes and purred: "You always look so clean and fresh--like one of those Greek gods coming up out of the water."
He hadn't been able to get the remark out of his head all evening, he remembered. And he had also been aware of the several winks and grins that Vona had directed his way. He could recall thinking about the possibilities of taking the old gal into one of the upstairs bedrooms and fucking the hell out of her just to show her how much of a Greek god he really was in bed.
But you just didn't do that to your boss's wife. Not if you knew what was good for you.
Besides, Vona Dawson was old enough to be his mother. And what could be sicker than a twenty-six-year-old stud like him humping the hairy pussy of a forty-year-old sophisticate like Vona? He'd have to be a fool to even consider it.
And yet--standing there naked in the shower--he started getting a hard-on. Not just a semi-stiff one, but a real cunt splitter.
He stepped back from the cascade of water and looked down between his legs. His prick was up as solid as a bar of pig iron, the helmet-like head pink and bloated.
He couldn't help but grin, thinking of how Vona's aging blood would begin to boil if she could see him now.
He still had the erection when he stepped out of the shower and began to towel himself off. His cock was up so stiff that he had difficulty drying himself.
"Hell of a note," he breathed to himself, grinning.
And then he remembered how unsatisfied Peg had been, and his grin reached all the way up to his ears. If I can't give it to Vona, I might as well give it to my wife! he mused.
Without further thought, he paraded back toward the bedroom, his cock sticking out ahead of him like a blunt sword to slay the dragon of a female's lust.
When he found the bedroom door shut and locked, he tapped a bit too heavily and too impatiently.
"Honey--you there?"
There was no answer for a few seconds, and then the door snapped open a few inches.
He grinned through the crack at her.
She opened the. door then, and he was disappointed to see she had thrown on her dressing gown and the flushed frustration had been erased from her cheeks.
She only glanced at his nudity and his obvious arousal.
"I thought we might... uh... "
"You thought we might what," she said, remotely.
"How about some more sex, maybe."
She glanced at his enormously stiffened penis, then shrugged. The shrug made him feel like a fool.
"You don't want to, sweetheart?" he asked raggedly.
"I don't really care--now."
"But I thought you weren't satisfied a while ago."
She gave him a frosty look. "I wasn't. So why didn't you do something big and strong about it then."
"Look, honey... "
"No, you look. You worked me up to the point of screaming my head off for a good orgasm, then you very selfishly shot off--or whatever you males call what you do--and left me high and very, very dry."
"I said I was sorry."
"And then you come back in here with your ding-doggie sticking out like a traffic cop's arm and demand your rights as a husband. Well, sorry, but the gates of paradise are closed for the night."
"You don't have to get so goddamned snotty about it."
There was a long moment of strained silence while his engorged penis began to fade slowly away.
"Look, Jim," she sighed, finally, "it's perfectly clear that our little six-month marriage is heading for some very large and dangerous rocks unless... "
"Unless what, damn it."
"Unless we learn to respect each other's feelings more. Unless we attune ourselves to the sensitivity areas that Dr. Carter says... "
"So we're back to that fruity shrink again, are we?"
Peg's cheeks flushed. "Dr. Carter is not a fruit! He's a very happily married man--and one of the best psychiatrists in the city. Just because you... "
"Just because I don't happen to go in for a lot of crap talk about that group therapy baloney of his--all that bullshit business of interpersonal-transparency and... "
"He's doing very important work with frigid males and... "
"Who the hell is a frigid male, goddamn it! I just got through screwing you like a Mexican whore for about an hour and you can't even... " He broke off, slamming his fists together in disgust.
Her eyes were narrowed at him, slitted and savage.
"Go ahead, say it--you're married to a frigid female!"
"You said it, I didn't."
"No, but you think it!"
"Okay, so I think it! What the devil else would you call it when a guy screws his wife until his balls are bleeding and she can't even... "
"Maybe you don't know how to copulate. Did you ever think of that?"
"Oh, yeah? Well, I never had any complaints before I married you, Susie-Q!"
"I'll bet you didn't. I'll bet you just knocked them over like bowling pins, eh?"
"You're fuckin' right I did! And I left a trail of mighty happy-sappy pussies, too! Most women I've dicked come in about ten seconds!"
"Can I help it if you didn't do anything before you met me but screw a lot of virgins and female hillbillies!"
"Go to hell!!"
He took the necessary strides to get out of the bedroom, his lax cock slapping against the sides of his legs.
In the living room of the small apartment he slammed himself down into his easy chair stark naked and grabbed the evening paper that had been carefully laid out for him in the earlier, more peaceful part of the evening.
Thanks a lot for that, he thought morosely, I guess if you think I can't fuck, I can at least read!
His eyes smoldered into the words of the newspaper, but he couldn't see anything. He could only hear the mocking voice of his bride sneering at his ability to satisfy only himself. I'll bet you just knocked them over like bowling pins... all those virgins and female hillbillies!
Well, one virgin came through his memory loud and clear. And that was Annie Hawkins when he was a quarterback on his high school football team--and Annie was the daughter of his coach. He would never forget the night she got locked in the locker room while he was taking a shower. Talk about a pair of hot pants! he mused. I fucked that leering little Jezebel until her teeth were rattling.
AND Annie was only the first of a long conquest of females he had whacked and plowed before he fell in love with Peg.
Love.
The word had a hollow ring now, but also a very painful ring. He had loved Peg. Did love her.
And he wanted nothing more in the world at this moment than to go back into that bedroom and fuck her lovely, tight young cunt until he had her tongue out and lapping at his chin.
Just thinking such rutty thoughts was doing it to him all over again. His big prick was rising.
He lowered the newspaper over it, but his cock served as a kind of tent pole to hold the paper up. Finally, with a ragged groan he tossed the paper aside and walked back to the closed door of the bedroom.
He knelt in the hallway and put his eye to the bedroom door keyhole.
What he saw made his pecker throb stiffly.
Peg was naked again and sitting on the little vanity bench in front of the mirror. She was combing her hair with both arms raised--and her firm, succulent tits were moving and bouncing together like two large sponge balls with raspberries stuck to the tips of them.
"Oh, God," he muttered, driving back his desire to reach a fist down and start jacking-off, "I've gotta fuck that hot hole of hers or die!"
He stood up and twisted the knob on the door.
The door was locked again.
"For Christ's sake, honey--lemme in!!"
He waited a second, his heart pounding and his prick sticking out like a saddle horn.
He heard her patting on bare feet to the door. "What do you want?" she asked indifferently.
"What the hell do you think I want. I wanta fuck you!"
"Go away."
"Listen--just listen to me, baby! Let me come in and show you what I can do. Honey, I'll make you come, I swear to God I'll make you come a bucket! I'll... "
"Will you go to a sensitivity session arranged by Dr. Carter?"
His brain exploded like cheap Chinese firecrackers.
"Screw that fruity shrink! Who needs a handbook for fucking?"
"You do, apparently. Goodnight, darling. Enjoy your night on the couch."
He sputtered only long enough to get his strength back, and then began to pound on the door with both fists.
He was still pounding when the phone jangled from the far end of the living room.
He kept pounding--and the phone kept stubbornly ringing.
"Oh, Jee-SUS!!" he roared finally.
He made his way to the phone with his stiff prick still at a horizontal position.
"HELLO!!"
"That you, Jim?"
His boss's voice cut through his anger like a knife through butter.
"Oh... uh... hello, Mr. Dawson."
"Having a nice evening at home, eh?"
"You... yeah... you could say that."
"Sorry to break into it, Jim, but I was wondering if you could do me a large favor."
"I'll certainly be willing to... "
"Like for you to run out to the country club and pick up my wife."
"Your wife, sir?"
"Yes. I'm tied up at this damned awards dinner, and I thought you might take Vona off my hands. She's got this damned thing about taxis. Hates them. So she suggested you might be nice enough to... "
"I certainly will, sir!"
"Good. You won't keep her waiting, I trust."
"Not a second longer than I have to."
"Great boy. Oh, and tell Vona I won't be home until the wee hours. Got to drink a few with some of the boys. You know how it is."
"Yessir."
"Goodnight, Jim. And give my best to that cute young bride of yours."
"Goodnight, sir."
When he put the receiver down, he was leering like a goat. He didn't know exactly what he could do with this sudden landfall, but the fact that Vona had suggested he pick her up sounded a lot like an invitation to get fucked, to him.
"Just what I need tonight," he whispered joyously. "Pussy on the hoof!!"
CHAPTER TWO
It was only after he had explained to Peg why he wanted the bedroom door opened--so he could put on his clothes--that she snapped off the lock.
"Christ," he muttered as he strode naked across to the closet, "you'd think I was trying to rape you or something!"
"Why should Vona Dawson want you to pick her up," Peg asked suspiciously, ignoring his remark about rape.
"How the hell should I know? Maybe it's the chauffeur's night off."
"You know perfectly well that the Dawsons fired their chauffeur two weeks ago. Dr. Carter told me all about that."
Jim's ears picked up a bit on the information. As he dressed quickly, he kept the subject going.
"What the hell would Lon Carter know about it?" he said, putting a slight slur on the name of the young psychiatrist Peg seemed so sold on.
"Vona told him. She had a martini too many one night and told Dr. Carter that Jeffery--that's the driver they had--tried to put the make on her." Jim kept his sly grin hidden. "That so? What'd he do that for? I mean, as I recall Jeffery was that young kid just out of the Marine Corps, wasn't he?"
"What does that have to do with... "
"Nothing. Except that I don't see why some young, healthy stud like Jeffery would want to bang a hag like Vona."
"Vona is no hag. Besides, who knows why males do anything they do, sexually."
He grinned at her. "Females know, that's who." He was dressed in a few more minutes and headed out of the apartment.
She was right on his heels, some distant foreboding making her blood quicken in her veins.
"The bedroom door will be unlocked when you get back," she promised lightly.
She thought she saw him give a disinterested shrug of his shoulders as he said, "Yeah, okay." And then he was gone.
"Damn," she muttered under her breath, "I wonder if that she-bitch Vona Dawson is up to something, after all!"
She had perfectly good reason to wonder. She had only touched on what Lon Carter had told her about Vona--and Vona's relationship with the husky young chauffeur. The whole story was enough to curl the hair on the nape of her neck. Not that she cared a hoot in a haystack how the fading beauty got her kicks--as long as she stayed away from Jim.
She groaned softly as she paced the floor of the small, empty-feeling apartment. And almost before she knew what she was doing her finger was rotating the dial of the telephone. She was fortunate, she realized, that Lon Carter answered, and not his wife.
"Lon, I've got to talk to you!"
"Take it easy, Peg. Of course you can talk to me."
"I don't mean over the phone. Can you come over here?"
"To your apartment?"
"Yes. Jim's out--with Vona Dawson."
There was a small pause. "Jim and Vona? That sounds like Vona, but I didn't know your husband was... "
"It's Vona that I'm worried about! If what you told me about her and that chauffeur is even half true, then she could do God knows what with my husband!"
She could hear the young psychiatrist sighing. "Peg, didn't I try to explain all of that to you the other day? You've got to learn not to place so much importance on sexual matters. Those cowardly impulses not to face the facts about... "
"I know what you told me, but I don't like the idea of some hussy who's old enough to be my mother setting out to seduce my husband! "
"Calm down. I can see we're going to have to talk again. I will be over. By the way, did you talk to Jim about joining some of the sensitivity sessions?"
"Yes--and he laughed at the idea."
"Typical reaction. He'll come around, probably. Look, I'll be right over."
"Will your wife mind?"
She could almost see him grinning. "Of course she won't. Besides, Norma isn't here. She's visiting her mother for the night."
"Then hurry."
It seemed to Peg that she had barely put the phone down when Lon was knocking on the door. It had been all of twenty minutes, however. She knew that when she looked at the pile of cigarette butts in the ashtray on the coffee table--and felt the kick of the two Scotches she had drunk down like an Indian on the warpath.
"You've had a little, haven't you?" Lon said, as she let him into the apartment.
She gave the handsome young psychiatrist a quick, slurring side look that any other male would have interpreted in the wrong--or right--way. "I had to have something to steady my nerves," she said.
"Well, you certainly don't need alcohol."
"Don't preach. Not now, Lon. Just help me!"
He gave her another steady look, but the corners of his mouth were not turned up in even the faintest smile.
"If you mean what I think you mean... " he began.
"Have sex with me, Lon!"
"Peg... "
"Screw me, damn it! Do what you did the other day in your office. Pull my panties down and fuck me!!"
"For God's sake, Peg, get hold of yourself!"
She was trembling all over, and she could feel the thick, hair-lined lips of her pussy beginning to grow moist and itchy all over again--exactly as they had when Jim was working her up to a frenzy earlier in the evening. But she knew that Lon could make her have an orgasm. He had the other day. And she wanted that again--now.
Her hands came up to pull at his lapels. Her breath was hot and demanding against his square-jawed, good-looking face.
"Fuck me, Lon. God, please... I love your cock! I'll suck it for you, too! I'll do anything to get you!!"
His own hands came up and grabbed her shoulders in a sure, strong grip.
"Snap out of this, Peg! I wouldn't have come over here at all if I had thought you had this in mind!"
Her voice was rising now like a little hysterical flute. "I did what you told me to do with Jim," she rasped. "I tried to relax. I tried to make him want me. But he didn't please me and I don't think I pleased him! Do you know what I had to do, finally?"
"What?"
"I had to masturbate with a hairbrush! How do you like that, Dr. Freud? This unhappy housewife had to fuck herself with her grandmother's damned hairbrush because her husband's big jumbo just couldn't pull the trick off!"
"I told you, Peg. You're suffering from some mild Puritan syndrome. Tell me, did you talk to Jim the way you just talked to me?"
"What do you mean?"
"Did you use those words with him? Fuck and cock and suck? Did you talk dirty--or what you think is dirty--to him?"
"Of course not!"
"Why not?"
"He'd--be shocked."
"But you don't think I would be."
Her smile spread crookedly across her face. "You're not, are you?"
"Well, no. But that's not really the point. I'm a doctor."
"And a damned good one. You've got exactly what it takes to cure this blazing itch between my legs. I don't care how you feel--or what you think of me. Just screw me again. Make me come! I want to come with something besides a hairbrush up my cunt so bad I can taste it!"
As the words tumbled out of her mouth, she dropped to her knees in front of him and began to claw at the zipper of his fly. He tried to step away, but her fingers were like claws and they held his legs locked hard against her shoulders.
"Peg--now wait! My God...!"
She had his zipper open and she was digging inside his shorts for the stout, good-sized penis that he had fucked her with only a few days before.
She pulled his soft prick out and her mouth slurped over the head of it and drew the lax column of his tool deep into her throat. She sucked lustily for a few seconds, using her tongue like a wild animal until she could feel him stiffening for her.
He made no more moves to stop her. Instead, he stood with both of his arms down so that his hands rested gently on either side of her head. He let her suck with quick, ravenous strokes of her tongue and throat until his penis was a rigid bar of hard flesh.
When he had a hard-on, she pulled her mouth away and began to massage it with one hand as she rose back up to face him. She continued to tease and play with his stiff meat as her flushed and grinning face moved close to his.
"Now do you want to fuck me, Lon?" she whispered raggedly.
His face was flushed, too--and the hot sparkle in his male eyes told her only too well that he had finally forgotten his role of mind-doctor, and that now he was simply an aroused man who needed very desperately to satisfy his own lusts with her.
"I'll fuck you," he breathed heavily, "but this is the last time, Peg. The last time!"
Her grin was hot and lewd. "Of course," she purred, keeping up the obscene stroking of his throbbing prick. "Come on, we can do it in the bedroom!"
She gently pulled him by his tumescent penis toward the bedroom--and he came willingly enough. Her cunt was burning now, dripping and gasping to have his hardness fill the hollow emptiness. She could feel her clitoris standing up, red and sensitive.
The light from the living room made the bedroom a place of shadows. But there was still enough illumination for her to see his body--and for him to see hers.
"Undress," she insisted huskily. "Let's do it naked! I want to feel your body on top of me! Take off your socks, too!"
He began to undress at the same time she did. Her blood was pounding in every vein of her body, and her fingers felt like pegs of wood in her clumsy race to be nude first.
She knew it was going to be good--even better than the first time. The way her tits were swelling out and the wonderful way her nipples were getting as hard as bullets told her that no matter how badly he performed the act, she would spasm like a whore with him.
She was naked a few seconds before he was, and she piled into the middle of the bed and spread her legs apart.
In the muted light she could see his body. He wasn't as tall as her husband, and some trick of the shadows made him look more like a blond-haired boy than a man. A handsome boy with a very large prick wickedly sticking out between his legs--a prick that was hard just for her pussy.
"Come on!" she hissed at him. "HURRY!!"
He crawled on the bed and gently pushed her legs a little wider apart.
She went wild when his hand touched the sappy, open mounds of her cunt. He rubbed her for a few seconds, just to build her right to the peak of madness that all males like to sense when they mount females.
"Stick it in!" she moaned. "I want it all the way to your balls!!"
The blunt head of his penis nosed between the drizzling lips of her slit and she jerked her thighs to make him feed her more of it--and faster.
His cock slid steadily, inch by hard inch, into the maw of her throbbing sex. The pleasure was so acute that she arched her back like a big cat and brought both of her legs up until she was hugging his hips.
He was balanced above her, breathing hard. Her stiffened nipples were pointing up at his chest like thumbs, and the hair around the oval of her pussy was spread back like a wreath around his penis.
"All the way, Lon!"
He let all of his weight down into the saddle of her thighs and his engorged prick was quickly buried in the soft hotness of her loins. "I think I can come right now!" she whispered happily.
"Come as many times as you want to," he breathed back, his voice edged with harsh salacity. "HI try to keep this up until you've had as many good, deep orgasms as you can stand!"
Then he began to pump her with his cock, slowly and steadily.
She could see the shadowed profile of both of them on the bedroom wall, his lean buttocks above her and moving up and down as the sensual, lustful sounds of their copulation filled her ears like a sonata by Satan.
"Fuck... " she whispered hotly. "UUUUMMMmmmm... fffuuuccckkk!!"
The bedsprings began to creak, but even the sound of them was different to her. The bed didn't make the same sexual melody that it did when Jim was screwing her. This sound was deeper and more erotic--and the vibrations seemed to go right to her toes, then back up to the bloated nubs of her tits.
She closed her eyes and moved in unison to his male strokes. With each thrust, she could feel his penis growing larger and longer--like a big, smoking finger of meat that was thrilling her into a mindless joy.
The muscles of her cunt wrapped and unwrapped around the hard pipe of his sex, like soft lips trying to kiss the big veins that ran from the root of his cock to the head of it.
Almost before she could enjoy it fully, she was spasming.
Her pussy clutched at his moving prick as if trying to milk it--but it remained as hard as ever as she poured the thin, hot juices of her completed orgasm all over it. She bucked her thighs up and down to increase her pleasure, and her liquids trickled down from her creaming cunt and wetted his balls and the crack of her asshole.
"Ah... " she moaned, grinning while he continued to fuck her silken, wet pussy, "ah, yes! YES!!"
She went limp when her orgasm was over, but her pussy was still wild and hungry for more. She lay like a rag doll under him as he pumped for deeper honey. The lubrication of her vagina was allowing him to slide in and out faster and deeper, and with his penis now as long and stiff as it would ever get she could luxuriate in that best of all possible positions for the female: having her strongest lusts teased into life all over again by a capable stud tool.
They had both lost the last semblance of modesty now, and he was moving above her like an animal. The soft grunts were coming from deep in his chest with every thrust, and his stomach was pressed flush against hers as he fucked.
She lifted her legs up over his buttocks and crossed her ankles. That lifted her own buttocks so high that his balls were slapping against her anus like heavy beanbags.
She had never felt so wanton in her life.
Never had she felt her nerves so alive, her cunt so incredibly hot.
"Suck my tits!" she wailed, pushing her torso up at him until the rigid nipples at the coned ends of her breasts were like succulent plums.
He did more than suck them. He chewed and bit them. He gnawed at them so roughly that her whole pussy began to spit all over again.
He was ready for her second orgasm, and as her juices began to spray the head of his digging cock he climaxed with all the force of his healthy young body.
She made ragged, sobbing noises as his sperm splashed hot and thick into the highest comers of her delirious hole. And at the height of both their orgasms, she lowered her hands under his hips and grasped his nuts. They felt large and hot and hairy between her fingers as she massaged and milked them for every drop of his nectar.
When it was finally over, he rolled away from her and lay spread-eagled on the bed. He was panting like an exhausted swimmer. Like Lord Byron after conquering the Hellespont.
"Jesus," he whispered huskily, "that was good therapy for both of us, I guess."
She rolled over against him with a kittenish moan, and let her hand feather down over his lean abdomen to his softening, sticky cock.
She played with it gently, rubbing and squeezing it until the thick column began to firm all over again.
"No," he breathed.
But it was too late.
She was up on her arms and bending over his hips, her tongue out and licking.
His prick rose up as steadily and stiffly as the thickening root of some magic sex-vine.
She licked it only until it was pointing straight up at the ceiling, and then she began to suck on it brazenly.
He lay back with his hands behind his head as she continued to suck him. It was a long process to make him reach another climax so quickly, even though his penis was as turgid as ever.
Her tongue lapped and laved every inch of his rod and not once but a dozen times she took him all the way down to his pubic hair--so deep in her throat that his glans threatened to cut off her breathing.
After almost ten minutes of such lusty sucking, his prick throbbed and shot even more tasty gluts of sperm into her mouth than he had rewarded her pussy with.
She drank it all down and kept up her lascivious sucking until not a droplet of his juice was left.
Then she moved her head away and his weary cock fell with a wet little slapping noise onto the side of his leg.
"Nice," he breathed, keeping his eyes closed.
After that, he slept for a few minutes and when he opened his eyes she was sitting on the side of the bed in her dressing gown, smoking a cigarette and watching him.
"Satisfied?" he asked huskily.
She smiled. "For the time being. But I'll want it again."
He didn't reply to that, but asked her to throw him his shorts.
While he dressed, she went off to the kitchen and made them both a drink.
They sat in the living room with their drinks, and his doctor's mask slowly settled over his face again.
"We can't do this again, Peg. At least not in this way. Perhaps in some of the sensitivity sessions... "
"You mean those orgies. Huh-uh."
"They're not orgies. Besides, you can't judge something you haven't experienced."
"I've heard you describe them. Just a lot of people taking off their clothes and... "
"Not a lot of people. Maybe two or three couples. Sometimes four couples--and that would include your husband. Don't you want to feel the same thing with him that you just felt with me in there?"
"Of course, but I can't."
"You just think you can't. I'm sure he wouldn't have any real trouble--possibly he isn't right now." Her face darkened. "You mean with Vona Dawson?"
"I said possibly."
She had a very uncomfortable picture of Vona doing with Jim what she had just done with Dr. Carter--and a flash of jealousy flushed at her cheeks.
"She's a damned bitch, isn't she?" she demanded.
"I don't think so. You say that just because she's a little older--but she has emotional needs that have to be filled, too."
"Then why doesn't she fill them with her own husband!"
Dr. Carter smiled. "I have been asking you that same question for some time now, Peg. Perhaps Vona finds it more satisfying to have sex with strangers--or at least with males who are not sanctioned by law and society to perform these duties."
"Are you trying to say that Vona and I are both whores?"
"By no means. But I am saying that until you can be as free and sensuous with your own husband as you are with me--or with other men--then you won't... "
"At least I don't throw myself at everybody who comes along," she interrupted. "You're the only one I've done this with."
The young psychiatrist smiled wisely. "Yes, that's true, Peg. I am the first one--but unless you change your attitudes about the real nature of marriage and sexuality within marriage, I have a feeling I may not be the only one--for long."
Peg didn't want to admit it even to herself, but she knew that there was; at least a partial truth in what he was saying.
She knew that all she had to do was find another man who could make her climax even half as well as Dr. Lon Carter, and she would have to have him, too.
No matter what the price.
CHAPTER THREE
Vona Dawson had not really planned to end the evening with Jim Sawyer. That had been a nice afterthought. What she had actually envisioned as the perfect end to a rather dry evening of bridge and cocktails at the country club, was getting into the tight pants of young Ned Casey, the newly married swimming instructor at the club.
In fact, she had wanted to maneuver the handsome young man into a motel she knew about. And things had almost--but not quite--worked out.
The idea had come into her head when she was playing the fourth hand of bridge and Ned came wandering into the card room with his blond, hippie-length hair still damp from a swim m the heated pool.
The young stud had caught her eye, and grinned--a suggestive little gambit that had sent a surge of pure lust through the veteran loins of the older woman. The surge was even stronger than it had been the first time he did that to her, because in those days she didn't know what he was capable of in bed.
But she knew now, and she liked it.
Her first quick affair with the hustling young male had been back before Christmas when he was short on money. A sly, small rumor had come to Vona's ears that the twenty-year-old boy would do anything in the book for a little extra cash, so long as nobody let out any long wails of outrage when he asked for payment. The details of the rumor were that he had been to bed with both males and females--anybody with ten or twenty dollars to sweeten his palm.
Since Vona had long been used to giving her husky young chauffeur money to service her, she didn't bat an eyelash at the thought of buying sex from Ned. In fact, she welcomed the chance. Paying a male to screw her only added a little wicked spice to the whole hobby of extra-marital fun.
And so she had approached him in careful, but pointed terms those few months back. They arranged a tryst in a small motel near the country club, and nothing nicer had ever happened to Vona. It turned out that Ned Casey had every inch of equipment necessary to satisfy the deep, jaded tastes of an aging seductress like her. She well remembered that he had simply fucked her until she didn't want it any more.
But tonight she was; dry again--and playing around with the lean, muscular young body of a sex-expert like Ned appealed much more to her than playing with a deck of cards.
Much more.
She kept a careful eye on him while he wandered around the game room, and the more he displayed his legs and arms and thighs in those tight pants, the more she knew she wanted another taste of him.
When he left the game room, he gave her another look--and possibly a wink.
She knew what the wink meant. She was, as soon as possible, to meet him downstairs in the supply room.
The game seemed to go on endlessly, and all through it she could feel her vaginal lips swelling against the tight nylon crotch band of her panties.
It was almost as if Ned's strong young index finger was scratching her there, teasing her hungry old pussy into needing a wild fuck.
When the game was finally over she excused herself on the pretext of going to the powder room. Instead, she went as quickly as she could down to the supply room--and found him lying on a sack of soiled linen smoking a cigarette.
He had his legs apart, and as usual he was displaying a prominent bulge at the right place.
"You wanted to see me?" he asked arrogantly.
"You know what I want, Ned."
"Yeah, but no motel tonight. Maybe just a quickie of some kind."
She didn't like the idea. The motel session had been too damned much fun to settle for anything less.
"I'm free tonight," she insisted. "My husband is at some kind of dinner, and he won't be home for hours. We could check into that same motel and... "
"Nope. That's out. I'm married now, Mrs. Dawson, and I've got to get home. But I'll screw you right here and now for a twenty."
"In the supply room?"
He grinned. "Why not? You'd be surprised what I've done down here. We can lock the door... " To add another element of temptation to her already overly heated imagination, he reached down with one square hand and rubbed his sheathed penis. She could see it swell--long and hard and promising.
"You young bastard," she breathed raggedly, trying to keep back the excited smile that pulled at the comers of her mouth, "you'll do anything for money, won't you!"
"No more than a lot of people will pay to get anything."
She hesitated, remembering another practical side of the matter. "Suppose I don't have twenty dollars, Ned?"
He shrugged. "That could present a problem. I can't take a damned check, of course. Your husband... "
"You could trust me."
He shook his head. "Sorry, Mrs. Dawson. I've trusted too many people. I could name 'em, if I wanted to. Hell, if I had a nickel for every free screw I've given... "
"All right. I've got ten dollars in my change purse. What will you do for that?"
His cynical young eyes twinkled. "For ten bucks I'll let you blow me."
She felt a sudden stab of anger override her lust. "You can go to hell!" she sputtered.
She turned and started for the door, but he was beside her and digging his fingers into her arm.
"You'd like sucking me," he whispered at her. "I go wild when somebody blows me. It'd be the best ten dollars worth of fun you've ever had!"
"Let me go, damn it!"
"C'mon, honey, I need that ten. I'll even play with your puss while you eat me!"
"Drop dead!!"
She got out of the supply room with her cheeks flushing a beet-red. She had to spend a good ten more minutes in the powder room on the first floor of the club before she regained her composure.
She felt satisfied that she had told the brazen, money-grubbing little rogue off, but when her calm returned she found she was as homy as ever. If it hadn't been too much of a sacrifice in pride, she knew she would cash a check right then and there and go back down to the supply room.
She even had visions of herself lying on the pile of laundry bags while he pumped away on top of her, feeding her hungry hole every inch of his stiff prodder. And as for sucking him off, she wouldn't mind doing that at all--if he had been a little more diplomatic about it.
Going back to the card game was the worst thing she did. Her cunt started to blaze again, to itch, to water, to want.
What I need, she told herself inwardly, is a young stud like Ned Casey who will do it for nothing--who will do it because he's horny and because he wants to please me!
It was then that she thought of Jim Sawyer.
Her mind lit on the possibility of having sex with Jim the way a hawk might light on an innocent rabbit.
What could be safer than trying to seduce a married employee of my own husband? she mused.
All through the remainder of the bridge game, she weighed the crazy possibilities of getting Jim Sawyer into the sack. After all, she had laid some of the groundwork only a few nights back at a cocktail party. She had flirted almost openly with him, and he had smiled back at her. He had looked bored, too, with that pretty little bride of his on the other side of the room talking her head off to Dr. Lon Carter. Perhaps he was bored, as bored as Jeffery, the chauffeur, had been with his wife.
It was only shortly after that when she made the telephone call to her husband, suggesting that somebody--Jim Sawyer--might be kind enough to take her home from the club.
Jim's and Vona's erotic imaginations couldn't have been closer on the same track if a computer had arranged the meeting.
She was waiting for him at the door of the country club when he pulled up, and as she came out to the car she made sure her light cape was on her shoulders and not around her body. She wanted him to see that a woman looking back at forty could still sport a figure that would turn young men's eyes and madden their primitive instincts.
"Good evening, Mrs. Dawson," he said, holding the door open for her.
He watched her hips slide neatly into the seat beside him, and he couldn't for the life of him control the way his heart was thumping.
"I couldn't wait to escape that place, Jim," she sighed, digging for a cigarette. "Hope I didn't inconvenience you too much. Did Peg mind?"
"Not at all."
He put the car into gear and in a few minutes they were out on the highway leading back the few miles to the heart of the city.
He pulled the lighter out of the dash and held it for her while she rested the tips of her fingers along his wrist. He could almost feel the vibrations of her interest, and it was all he could do to keep from reaching over and feeling those sassy tits of hers, just to see if they were raw and real, or store-bought.
But he didn't dare. He didn't dare do a damned thing until she made the first move.
"Where to, Mrs. Dawson--home?"
She glanced at him, and wet her lips around a small smile. "Henry wouldn't like it if you treat me so formally, Jim. After all, we're one big happy family at Dawson Enterprises, aren't we?"
He smiled back at her in the half-light of the car. "I'd like to think so."
"Then call me Vona."
"Okay, Vona. You want to go right home to beddie-bye?"
"God, no. I've got to iron out my nerves from gabbing all evening with the hens out at the club. Maybe I need a drink."
"You want a big one?" he asked, not looking at her.
"Yes, a very big one--and a long one."
"Maybe you need a big, long, stiff one, eh?"
She laughed throatily. "Now what the hell are we talking about?"
He blushed slightly, but he wasn't about to drop the ball. "Are we talking about your drink?" he asked.
"You tell me what we're talking about," she purred.
He looked at her and she looked at him, and then he saw that she not only expected him to make the real move--she was demanding it.
"I don't know about you, Vona," he ventured in a low, husky voice, "but I'm homy as a wart-hog." She grinned and reached one hand over to squeeze his leg. "That makes two of us, honey, and I thought you'd never get around to admitting it." He gulped, but put his own hand down to give her fingers a meaningful squeeze. "Well, what do we do now?" he asked.
She knew exactly what to do.
"You horse this cute car of yours around to the first liquor store in sight and I'll buy us a bottle of good Scotch. Then I know a motel that always has a red carpet out for folks like you and me."
"And then?"
"And then you're gonna screw the hell out of a pussy that's old but still kicking!"
He chuckled and felt his prick throb in his pants. "You look plenty good to me, Vona. But I just hope to hell you know how to keep quiet about something like this. I don't think Mr. Dawson... " j "You let me handle Henry. What he doesn't know won't hurt him--and believe me, there's a damned lot he doesn't know!"
"Like about you and your chauffeur?"
She gave him a quick, hard glance. "Who the devil has been talking about that?"
"I suppose it's that fruity shrink that was at your party the other night."
"You mean Lon? Well, maybe I did say a few things too many to him when I was going in for therapy sessions. I'll have to speak to him about being so free with other people's problems."
They found a little liquor store and Vona dug the ten dollars out of her purse to pay for the booze. She had to suppress a grin when she thought of how she had almost spent the money tonight. She just wished that big-cocked young hustler could see what she had in tow right now.
When Jim came back with the Scotch they drove straight to the motel--with Vona giving directions like a navigator of naughtiness.
The motel was a small, shadowy little place with the units well back from the street and zigzagged so that the cars parked beside them were hidden from view. Jim noted that most of the cars were much too expensive for the shabby condition of the motel--and that told him that the place was nothing more or less than a glorified whorehouse. He made the arrangements with the pot-bellied, cigar-smoking jerk inside the office and by the time he got back out to the car Vona already had the Scotch open and had taken a couple of inhibition-killing swings at it.
"Have some," she grinned, handing the bottle over to him, "that stuff will put hair on your balls and fire in your eye."
He smiled and helped himself to the liquor. "Is that the way you like your studs?" he asked, wiping his mouth and giving the bottle back to her.
Her eyes were slitted and hot in the darkness. "I like them willing to do anything to satisfy a maiden in distress."
"That's me, honey."
"That's what I was counting on, hero!"
When they got inside the motel room, he pulled the shades all the way down and double-locked the door. When he had time to notice, Vona was pouring herself a healthy blast in a motel glass and unbuttoning her blouse at the same time.
"That's what I like," he grinned, "an ambidextrous female."
"You don't know the half of it. Come on, sailor-boy, shag ass out of those duds of yours!"
Her brazen, erotic language would have embarrassed hell out of him under more conventional circumstances, he knew, but in the degraded, sex-haunted motel room the words were as potent as Spanish Fly.
He was more than just a little curious about her body. Since he had never in his life made it with a woman as old as Vona, he wasn't sure that he would find her anything more than a nice way of getting rid of a homy impulse to fuck. So as he undressed himself, he kept one eye on the progress of her own denuding.
He saw her tits first--and liked them. They were even bigger looking than the advertised product under her blouse, and the nipples protruded on thick aureoles like oblong plums. He had expected a sag or something in the way her tits might stand out from her body--but to his lusty delight they were as firm looking as a woman's half her age.
She caught him looking, and grinned. Then she pulled off her skirt and panties so he could see the rest of her.
Her Venus mound was a mass of thick dark hair, so thick that he couldn't see her gash. The thought of getting his stiff prick buried in that mass of ringlets made his blood race.
She crawled up on the side of the bed and finished off her Scotch while he piled out of his shorts.
His cock plopped up at attention, as stiff as if he hadn't touched his wife in a month.
Vona measured his male charms with a steady, practiced eye. The small spots of pink pleasure on her cheeks told him she was more than pleased with what she'd caught in her net.
"God, Peg must purr all day just thinking about that whopper," she breathed.
He didn't answer that. He stood his ground for a few seconds so she could hone her need to a fine edge, then he brought himself over to her.
Her hand came up and grasped his stiff rod and played a little squeezing game until the glans of his prick was a hard helmet of flesh.
"Let's fuck," he said softly.
She grinned. "Okay, but let's do it my way."
"How's that--on the ceiling?"
"Not a bad idea. Maybe we'll try it later. No, let's do it the way I used to like for Daddy's cowhands back in Texas to do it to me. Mare and stallion style!"
"Yoo-hah" he yipped.
She released his violently aroused penis and rolled over on her stomach on the bed. Then she scrunched up on all fours so her buttocks were like half-moons in front of him. With her legs very wide apart he could see the dark shag of pussy hair showing under the crack of her anus.
"We used to call that doggie-style back in the Navy," he said huskily.
She turned her head to look at him, her face flushed with a very desperate need to get mounted. "You can call it any damned thing you want to, sweetie--just as long as you crawl up my ass and fuck!!"
With that challenge ringing in his ears, he spread her buttocks wider apart with both hands and lifted her slightly up. The effect was to part the whiskery lips of her pussy enough for the head of his prick to enter.
He found her vulva hot and moist enough to wet the bulb of his cock on the first push. When he was lodged inside her, he brought his hands up to hold the sides of her hips. Then he began to horse his rigid penis all the way up into her tunnel of lust.
He didn't stop until he could feel his balls pressed against the thick mat of her pubic hair and the bones of his pelvis against the firm mounds of her ass. He was into her as deep as a man can get.
Instead of fucking away at her, he let her get the feel of his big meat while he reached one hand down past her abdomen and located the erect knob of her large clit. He roiled it between his thumb and index finger until he had her sobbing and moaning with lust.
"Screw! Screw me!!" she hissed.
He kept teasing her clit as he started a long, slow fucking action. He intended to give her everything she wanted, if it took the whole night.
After five minutes of constant pumping he felt a decided shift of her sexual gears. She seemed to be going crazy with pleasure, and he liked that. To prove it, he screwed harder and faster, making the ancient motel bed creak and groan.
Vona raised her arms and put her palms flat against the wall. Braced like that, she could force her thighs back hard at him on every thrust. Getting it this way--the good old mare and stallion way--was something she had never been able to get enough of. Her husband had never in his life proposed to stuff her salacious cunt from the back position, and that had had no little influence on her need to find young, fuck-happy males who would.
"Ride me!" she groaned, letting her tongue hang out in a drool of pure bliss. "Ride me, cowboy!!"
He could feel his hard rod of meat pulling her cuntal lips back like flanges of wet liver on each retreating stroke. And with the following thrusts he was positive his prickhead was smothering the very mouth of her hungry womb.
He had been at the task of fucking her for so long by now that sweat was trickling down his buttocks, but he was happily nowhere near having a climax of his own. He seemed to have one of those eternal hard-ons that guys in dirty books have, he thought, and he imagined himself going down a whole line of hot cunts--screwing each one of them until juice was pouring out of their scarlet slits like melted honey.
Oddly enough, he found himself wondering why the hell he couldn't keep a hard-on like this when he was screwing his own wife. With Peg, he seemed to horse his prick into her melting butter pussy and shoot off like a cheap pistol.
Maybe he needed a whore like Vona Dawson to keep him stimulated.
Whatever the secret, Vona wasn't sharing it. Her cunt was twitching and throbbing like a fish out of water, and with a grinding of her expensively capped teeth she began to spasm hard for him.
He grinned and kept fucking.
Her liquids poured over his slapping balls amid a mixed chorus of her groans and his rapidly pistoning prick--and he didn't mind at all that she was having more fun than he was.
He knew he could afford to wait.
His tool was good for another hour, at least.
CHAPTER FOUR
When the phone rang at ten o'clock the next morning, Peg was still sound asleep. The ringing noise bored into her sleepy brain like a dentist's drill. She rolled over in bed, vaguely realizing she was both nude and alone. She grabbed the phone from the night table and stuck it against the tangled blonde hair over her ear.
"Yes?"
"Peg, this is Lon Carter. I didn't get you out of bed, did I?"
"No, but you did yank me out of a delicious dream."
He laughed softly over the phone. "You'll have to tell me about it sometime. Dreams are important. I was just wondering if you and your husband had talked over the sensitivity sessions idea yet."
Peg's mind cleared very quickly. "I... uh... haven't seen Jim since last night," she stammered. Then she looked around the bedroom as if she expected to see him crouched under a chair.
"You mean he didn't come home?"
"I don't know. I guess I fell asleep waiting for him--after you left."
Her mind was clear enough now to remember what she and Lon had done last night. All that mad sex--and the way he had made her climax like the whore she felt she was becoming under his clever tutelage.
"Why I really called, Peg, is to ask you to come over here. Could you?"
"I guess so. Is there... "
"I'd rather not discuss anything over the phone. Why don't you get in a cab or something and whip right over. I've got somebody I'd like for you to meet."
"All right, Lon."
In a few minutes she had finished her shower and was ready to leave the apartment. She did have time to notice that Jim had indeed arrived home last night, but that he had slept on the sofa like a whipped puppy.
He hadn't even bothered to look into the bedroom where she was nude and asleep on the bed.
Perhaps he had, she thought, and perhaps he and Vona Dawson had had enough sex for him not to give a damn that his own wife was trying to make up to him.
All the way over to Dr. Carter's office she kept glancing at the taxi driver--who just happened to be a young man. A lot of silly, naughty thoughts kept dancing in her head, and she couldn't seem to make them stop. Thoughts like wondering if the young taxi driver would like to have sex with her. And if he could make her come the way Lon had. Terrible, but persistent thoughts.
When she reached Lon's office, it was the first thing she told him--even before he had a chance to offer her a chair.
"Why those kinds of thoughts?" she demanded, blushing a bit with embarrassment.
He only smiled at her. "You have thoughts like that, Peg, because the taxi driver was a stranger. So am I, really. You're one of those women who stubbornly believe that love and marriage are something apart from the joy of sexual pleasure.
You've got to find that with a stranger."
"But I'm not puritanical! I proved that last night!"
"With me. But not without some pretty spectacular kinds of erotic foreplay. And besides, your own husband... "
"I'd rather forget about him, if you don't mind."
"But I do mind. However, for now I think we can forget about him. Maybe it would be better for you to tackle this thing by homing in on your own problems. Then we can bring you and Jim together a little later. " She sighed. "I don't know what you're talking about. "
"I'm talking about your getting over the fixation you have on me, Peg. It's what we call transference, in professional terms. You're hung up on me, aren't you?"
She blushed again, but the truth came tumbling out. "If you mean, did I enjoy having sex with you last night, yes!"
"That's exactly what I mean. Now, I want to transfer that rather neurotic need to somebody else."
"W-who?"
"A very nice guy. He's married, too--and he's suffering from the same kind of thing you are. Only from the male view. His wife can't satisfy him."
"You mean... "
"I mean he does his stud duty every night, but for the last few weeks he's not been able to have an orgasm--although his wife has more than her share. Poor Tom says that his wife is very demanding--and totally uninhibited about sex. It's a match that possibly never should have been, but it is. And he loves her very much. So it's better to try to condition him to certain realities about modem married life."
"What kind of realities?"
"What Tom persists in thinking of as perversions. Fellatio and cunnilingus, for example. He thinks such innocent forms of sexual pleasure are dirty and disgusting--while his wife is not only used to them, she craves them."
"But I think they're dirty, too!"
He smiled at her wisely. "Not really, Peg. Don't you remember last night?"
"What about it?"
"You performed a most marvelous job of fellating my penis. In other words, you sucked me off. Don't you remember?"
She bowed her head, but less from shame than from the sudden sickening little throb of sexual pleasure that stirred in her loins. "Yes, I remember."
"You loved doing it--and I must say I liked having you do it to me. Men and women have been doing those things since they broke out of the Garden of Eden. In fact, some sociologists theorize that when the good book speaks of Eve eating the apple, the myth really is talking about the female learning to and loving to eat her mate."
"I never heard that!"
"Yes, but you might think about it. But right now, I'd like to ask you to do something very important for me and for Tom, as well as for yourself."
"What?"
"I want you to have sex with Tom. He's in the next room, and I've already convinced him that he can learn to lose some of his morbid ideas about what is fun and what isn't. It can be a kind of practice session for both of you, and since it is very much like what will go on in the sensitivity sessions I hope to convince you to attend, you'll have a better idea of what to expect."
Her eyes were wider now. "I can't just go into the next room and have sex with a--a stranger!"
He was smiling at her again. "And why not? You just told me that the thought entered your head with the taxi driver. My guess is that your mouth is saying one thing--and your instincts are telling you just the opposite, eh?"
He was right, and she was almost hating him for it.
With the very mention of sex with a stranger, her vagina had begun to warm--slowly, like a little electric blanket had been tucked up inside the oval of her pussy.
"Just take off your clothes, Peg. Feel free. Let your body take over for a change. It's the only kind of language that the sexual urge can use to satisfy and express itself."
She thought for a long moment, but even as she was thinking the lips of her cunt were beginning to thicken and grow moist.
"Is he... uh... ready?"
"Tom? Yes, he's stark naked and waiting. And he's a very handsome young man--with exactly the qualities you like, I think, judging from what you've told me about your husband. He's masculine and healthy--and he's a very well endowed man. The kind a woman of less refinement than you would classify as a perfect stud."
The word was all she needed. It seemed to go up her pussy like a little finger.
"Nobody will know?" she asked huskily.
"Not a soul. When you go into the next room, you can lock the door from the inside. Nobody will disturb you, and if you like I'll see to it that you never even meet Tom again. He is attending some sensitivity sessions, of course, but I can arrange it so that he goes to the ones you don't go to."
She stood up and began to unbutton her blouse.
Lon examined some papers on his desk until she was stripped to her bra and panties, then he glanced up quite casually.
"By the way, Peg. I do hope you'll sort of take the initiative with Tom. As I said, he's even more shy than you are--and I'm trying to break down that barrier in him. Do anything you please to arouse him, but for God's sake don't be coy. He's the coy one--and he needs to have the hidden bull in him brought out. Make him show his horns. Make him paw the ground a little."
The talk was making her paw the ground, too.
She already felt a madness growing in her that would be satisfied by nothing less than a long, savage adventure in fucking. And the thought that just beyond the door of Lon's inner office was a stranger with a big cock, made the inner lips of her cunt tingle with excitement.
"Take your clothes in there with you," Lon said. "When both of you are ready to come out, just tap on the door."
Trembling with both excitement and a lewd sense of shame, she allowed Lon to open the office door and close it behind her.
She saw the young married man at once. He was sitting in a chair over by a window whose shade had been drawn. The room was only partially lighted, and she got a very quick, if fuzzy, image of a hairy-chested, lean male with a white towel wrapped around his hips.
He didn't say a word, but she could see that his eyes were boring into her naked body. And instead of feeling that she wanted to run away from him, she could feel that the nipples of her tits were beginning to harden and draw out from the coned tips. She had never felt so excited in her life.
"Hello," he said, softly.
She walked toward him, her full breasts swinging softly as they pointed even more. She saw him gulp as his eyes traced the flare of her hips and center on the widow's peak of hair between her legs.
"This is crazy, isn't it?" he breathed, swallowing again as she came right up to him. "I mean, I suppose Doctor Carter knows what he's doing, and all. But... " He never got the sentence finished.
Lon had told her not to be coy, and she was taking his suggestion literally.
She dropped to her knees between the spraddled, hairy legs of the complete stranger and pulled the towel boldly away from his naked thighs.
Her face was now on a level with his large, half-soft prick and a pair of the biggest balls she'd ever seen.
Without the slightest hesitation, she stuck out her tongue and leaned into the twin bags of forbidden fruit. She lapped on the warm orbs of his testicles, moving them this way and that with the strong pressure of her demanding tongue.
He groaned and opened his legs even wider for her, so his balls hung down like two hairy pears.
She started licking them ferociously.
His cock stirred like a cobra and moved up toward his navel as it filled with hot blood. It jerked a couple of times then lifted a big pink head upward. The more she licked his nuts with her warm, wet tongue, the stiffer his prick grew.
"Jesus," he wheezed at her, "I like it! I LIKE it!!"
She liked it, too. Being down on the floor on her hands and knees between the legs of a man she'd never seen before and would probably never see again was turning her on like a harlot.
She licked upward over the shag of hair growing at the root of his penis and began to stroke the underside of his hard meat. It was like licking on a very hard length of sausage.
He groaned with hotter passion at what she was doing to him, and the spongy head of his cock firmed into a thick bulb. By the time she had worked her way that far up, a pearl-sized drop of lubricant was oozing from the eyelet of his glans. She lapped it hungrily and then began to suck for more.
He reached out for her tits while she sucked him. He roiled the hard nipples between his thumbs and index fingers, milking them the same way she was trying to milk him. They grew oily and slick in his fingers, and he pulled at them until the cones were as stiff and pointing as the tits of a sow.
She decided she had to be fucked.
Instead of giving him the chance to play the male, she jumped up and climbed aboard his lap. His long, violently aroused prick had something of a time fitting between the greased lips of her steaming cunt. But she fought to get him lodged between her thighs, and when the head of his tool was inside the oval of her pussy, she sank down over his upper legs with a low, salacious moan.
His prick went up her foaming slit right to the balls.
She began to pump up and down, riding him like a rocking horse while the leather chair he was sitting in creaked noisily.
"Fuck!" he whispered to her raggedly. "Yeah, baby! Fuck it all night!!"
The second Lon Carter had ushered Peg through the door, he turned back to his desk and pressed a button that was connected with a buzzer in still another room of his large office complex.
In a few seconds, his beautiful blonde wife came through a side door. She was tall and sleek, with high cheekbones and very carefully made-up eyes. She was wearing a white smock, and a small, expectant smile had etched up the comers of her rather sensuous mouth.
"Did it work?" she asked softly.
Lon nodded. "Yes, I think so. Shall we have a look?"
Together they went to a large, opaque window that seemed to be meaninglessly set into the same wall of the room Peg had entered. He flicked a switch and the one-way mirror suddenly revealed the other room--and the very interesting developments in that room.
There was Peg, fucking away.
The view they got of the couple was even more erotic than either of them had expected.
All they could really see was Peg in a half-crouching position on Tom's lap, with her knees dug into the chair on either side of his hips. His long legs were set wide apart and the feet balanced on the floor. Peg was doing all the work while both of Tom's hands were clamped into the sides of her hips. She was pumping up and down like an animal, and with every thrust they could see how her flanged pussy was taking every inch of Tom's huge penis. In fact, her cunt seemed to be a hairy, pink mouth sucking avidly on the stiff tool standing up between his legs.
"They didn't waste any time, did they?" Lon said, smiling, and winking at his pert wife with a casual side glance. "I'm sure my theory about both of them was right."
"Probably," Norma Carter said, nodding, "but it wouldn't be too hard for any female to go a little ape over a male like Tom Briggen. Just look at what he's got."
"Would you like to try him on sometime--for size?"
She grinned. "Yes, I'd love to. But do you think he'd mind that? My being your wife might inhibit him some."
"Not after a few sessions with a gal like Peg. Or a few more sensitivity sessions."
Norma wet her lips with just the tip of her tongue. "I'll wait until he's really able to turn on. And then there's nothing I'd like better than to be screwed for about an hour by that lovely thing of his. It's big, isn't it?"
"Bigger than most. Yes. Bigger than mine, of course."
She caught him with a darted glance. "You sound a little paranoid, darling."
"Nonsense. Just a scientific fact. I can give you his exact measurements, if you're really... "
"I'm not, so don't worry. I got over judging a man's ability to please with an oversized penis a long time ago. When I was in college, actually." They were both still watching the furious fucking activity from behind the secret mirror, but Lon's mind had caught something of his wife's slightly yearning tone.
"You never told me about that," he said softly, "About what, Lon?"
"About being turned on by guys with big ones." She smiled. "That was in college--before I met you. And I don't mind at all telling you about it. I was just a silly little thing in a sorority in those days, and all of us girls used to sit around and talk about boys and their tools. Naturally, we talked mostly about the boys with the big ones--and there was one fellow who was literally a legend on the campus."
"Indeed."
"Yes, his name was Jess Horton--or something like that. He was a football player, and one of the girls in my sorority had been out with him. She said he wanted to have sex with her, and she had been willing enough until she saw his thing. She said when he took it out of his pants he looked like a damned stallion, or something. She said it looked like about ten or eleven inches--and so big around that she couldn't get her hand to fit it."
"And did he fuck her?"
"Lord, no. She said she begged off--and the next time he called her for a date she said her grandmother had died, or something."
"And what about you?"
"You mean did I think about him?"
"I mean, damn it, did he ever fuck you with that horse-sized twanger?"
A small, sultry grin pulled her lips teasingly apart. "Are you sure you want to know the gory details?"
He was watching Peg in the other room, the way her buttocks were moving with delicious and greedy speed up and down on Tom's lusty pike.
"Yes," he said, without taking his eyes off the copulating couple, "I want to know the whole story."
Norma sighed. "Well, he did get to me--or I got to him, depending on your viewpoint. I slipped around to do it, frankly. I knew if I admitted wanting to be serviced by a penis that was abnormally large, I'd be the butt of jokes from the girls for weeks. But that didn't stop me from being curious--and homy as hell. As I told you, in those days I simply assumed that the bigger they were, the nicer they... "
"Yes, I know what you assumed. Go on."
"I called Jess Horton on the phone. Called him right in his dorm, and told him I wanted to meet him. He was marketable enough, and he knew it--but he didn't get cute with me. I suppose he thought I was just another one of the campus pigs who loved to get sawed all night by a guy who had enough to make any whore moan. He agreed to meet me that night. "
"And?"
"I met him--and when he saw that I was a first-class, pretty little sorority sister with a yearning to get humped, he really lost his head. He rented an expensive motel room and we spent the night."
Lon waited a few seconds, feeling his heart thump with something very close to jealousy. He tried to tell himself that the theories he'd been propounding to everybody else were equally applicable to him, but he still felt jealous.
"How was he?" he heard himself asking, a little huskily.
"Marvelous. Eleven inches of man. It isn't every day that a girl can feel the head of a penis smothering her cervix."
Lon didn't dare look at her--for fear she wouldn't be smiling.
"I suppose he fucked you more than once, and all," he said.
"All night, like I told you. He wanted to quit along about four in the morning, but I was so turned on that I guess I really wanted to play the whore's role all the way. I kept doing things to keep him interested."
"Such as?"
"The usual things a female learns to do when she wants to keep her male horny. Doing things to him with my tongue. He had a fabulous body--just like you might expect from a twenty-year-old football player. Muscles and things. I almost wore my sophisticated tongue out on him--since there was so much to lick... "
"Goddamn it," Lon sputtered, turning to her with eyes blazing, "why didn't you tell me you were so slut-happy over big pricks when you married me!"
She was grinning now.
"It's exactly what I said before, darling. It's not how much a man has, it's what he knows to do with what he's got."
She moved to him with her grin still fluting up the comers of her lips. Her hand came down to his crotch, and she rubbed him until she could feel him growing stubbornly hard.
Then she put her lips to his ears. "Why, Doctor," she breathed, teasingly, "if I didn't know better I'd think you were suffering from that singularly female complaint--penis envy!" And then she giggled, and gave his more-than-adequate prick a loving, reassuring squeeze.
CHAPTER FIVE
Jim had quite a bit of trouble finding the cheap, rundown hotel. It was down in the lower part of the city, the part that had once been the best part of town.
The desk clerk was an old man with blinking eyes and a soft chin.
"Can you tell me which room Mrs. Smith is in?" Jim asked, feeling like a fool giving the name that Vona had told him to ask for over the phone.
The old man gave him the briefest of tired looks. "Yep, Room Eight. And that'll be five dollars."
Jim gave him the money without a fight. He knew it was hush money, but as long as it worked he didn't give a damn. He was in just the right mood to fuck Vona Dawson again, even if he had to pay the old geezer twenty bucks.
He found the room on the second floor--along with the stench of a dirty toilet near the end of the hall.
She opened the door on his first tap.
"Christ, Vona, you really know how to pick them, don't you," he growled, coming past her into the room.
She was already in a thin dressing gown, and grinning.
"You don't expect me to rent a room at the damned Hilton, do you?" she purred. "I can't afford to be seen with you."
"Thanks a helluva lot."
She pulled him into her arms and gave him a smeary kiss, but it had to last several seconds before he opened his mouth and fed his tongue down her throat. Then he pushed her away and started unbuckling his belt.
"My, you're in a sour mood today," she breathed, untying the drawstring of her gown to free her straining tits. "What happened with you and Peg last night?"
"Nothing--except that she informed me about a few things."
"Such as?"
"She's actually going to some of those goddamned sensitivity sessions that fruity shrink dreamed up."
Vona grinned. "Don't worry about that. It might do her good. She'll get her head fucked off." He had his shirt and pants off now, and was working on his shorts.
"I plan to do some fancy screwing of my own," he said huskily.
Vona slipped out of her gown and stood naked and waiting for him by the side of the old but clean bed. "I certainly hope so, you big stud. I itched all night just thinking about getting it all together with you again."
He raked his shorts off, and his large prick came up into a half-hard erection.
Vona's greedy eyes glittered. "Uuuuu- mmmm... it's still there. My love muscle!"
"Yeah, but you're not the only one who's going to feel this cock of mine this week."
"Oh?"
He smiled at her slackly, and pushed her back on the bed. "I'll tell you about it later, baby. Right now let's put my muscle to work-in that hot pussy of yours!"
She smiled back at him, and willingly pulled her legs up into a hungry arch. The lips of her starved cunt gaped apart, pink and wet.
He stood at the edge of the bed and made her put both of her feet up around his head so that he could fuck her deep and hard on the first try.
"Lock your ankles together if you can," he demanded.
He immediately felt her heels digging into the nape of his neck, and the lewd way her thighs came up against the tip of his stiffened cock opened the floodgates of his lust.
He poked the head of his prick through the mossy mane of her pussy and rode it halfway up into the slippery hotness of her body. Her cunt felt so good to him that he could feel the column of his tool growing as hard as a bar of iron.
She had her eyes closed, her mouth open and her cheeks were flushed.
"God, I love young men!" she gasped. "You're hard, honey. You're so wonderfully hard inside me!"
He leaned over her and began to play with her tits. He stroked the nipples until they were standing up as large as lumberjacks' thumbs. And all the time he roiled her coned boobs, he pumped his rigid penis deeper and deeper, loving the way the muscles of her cunt throbbed and pulled him along.
The dresser in the cheap room was right next to the bed, and although the mirror was stained and cracked he could see them in a profile view--and the pornographic view increased the passion building inside him.
The picture he got was of a very young man with a fully aroused prick stuck into the shag-haired oval of an older woman's cunt, while her legs were draped up over his shoulders in a lust-hug that wouldn't be broken until she had been satisfied right up to her nostrils.
"Fuck me!" she begged, tightening the ankle grip on his neck. "Pretend I'm your hot whore, sailor!!"
He grinned sassily at her. "You sure like to fantasize, don't you! How about if I fuck you like one of those damned sensitivity session studs?"
"Be my guest!"
With that stimulus, he did begin to pump her--and there was nothing at all sensitive in his approach.
She had obviously had a lot of time alone in the hotel room before he got there--time enough for her to think sexy and lusty thoughts so that her cunt was lubricated.
When he really got his ass into it, his nuts slapped hard against the crack of her buttocks. He could feel her hairy slit riding flush up against the root of his prick. He liked that, and he made his strokes as long and powerful as possible to keep repeating the pleasurable feeling.
He had her moaning in no time, and clawing at the sheet on either side of her body.
She was going to come a bucket for him.
She arched her back and began to buck her thighs at him as her convulsive joy rose like a fountain in her loins.
"Talk dirty to me!" she hissed. "Say filthy things to me!!"
He bent low over her, fucking like a maniac. Screwing so hard that he could feel his prick ramming deep up against the mouth of her womb.
"You're a prick-happy old whore, Vona," he whispered harshly. "You'd rather fuck than fly to the moon!"
The salacious words--and his snarling tone of voice--were exactly what she wanted. She even knew the word for her weakness, because Dr. Carter had told her once. Saliromania! It was the urge to be defiled, and it was precisely the reason she always selected cheap motels and hotels to get her kicks in. Nothing satisfied the deepest wellsprings of her jaded lusts quite as much as being fucked half to death by a young stud in a sordid atmosphere.
"Shit," she groaned, feeling the oily juices of her orgasm beginning to gather in spitting little tongues around the huge stiffness of the prick that was plowing her insatiable cunt, "Suck! Fuck! Pussy! PISS INSIDE OF ME! FART ON MY MOUTH!!"
Jim was too blind with his own throbbing needs to be shocked by the sudden gasping explosion of obscenity coming from the lips of the sophisticated wife of his boss.
He only knew he was fucking a slit that was loving it, and that he had to keep fucking until his balls were empty.
Vona's garbled deluge of nasty words ended in a strangled moan of sharp joy as her cunt flooded his tool with a hot spray of liquids.
She had never come any better than this.
His prick was making sloppy noises now as it slurped in and out of the meaty wetness of her soaking slit. The ridge of his glans had grown as tough as tree bark, and he rode her like a mare until his sperm was shooting boiling wads high into her cunt.
Vona's overheated pussy gloated in the discharge of his powerful cock, and with each glut the thickened lips of her cunt seemed to suck at him to drink it all down.
When he was finished, she wanted him to keep his nicely swollen prick inside of her.
"Hell, no," he breathed raggedly, "you'd fuck the legs off a damned stool."
He pushed back from her, and his lagging tool came oozing out from between her dribbling cunt lips. He wiped his cock on one end of the bed sheet, then walked over to where he had thrown his shirt.
"Want a cigarette?" he asked casually.
When she didn't answer, he glanced back at her and was mildly shocked to see her still in the good old fucking position, legs hoisted up and apart, her pussy yawning like a slab of rare roast beef.
"Shut your gate, honey," he grinned, " 'cause this young stud stallion can't get it up again just yet."
"Goddamn it," she breathed raspingly, "I knew I should never have left Texas."
He chuckled on that, and brought a cigarette back to her. "Want me to teach your pussy to smoke?" he asked, holding the lighted cigarette down to the meaty lips of her slit.
She grinned and reached up for the welcome smoke, making her strong-nippled tits crush together like party balloons.
"I never told you about Texas, did I?"
He shook his head. "You sure didn't, Vona. But I'll bet you could tell some tales that would make the Devil's tail sizzle."
"Bet your boots, honey. Like the tale I could tell concerning me and four homy cowhands that Daddy hired one summer to round up lost strays." He grinned. "They rounded up you instead?"
"Hardly. I rounded them up--right out in the bam. Four of the best-looking, tallest, healthiest hell-for-pussy cowpokes north of the Rio Grande."
"They fucked you, did they?"
Vona's cheeks seemed to spangle with a rose-colored hotness, and her vamp's eyes twinkled. "Fuck is a tame word for what they did to me, sweetie. Those homy slit-rustlers rode my sixteen-year-old pussy all that long Sunday afternoon--while Daddy was in town courting the Widow Benton. Lord, if he'd have known what those country boys were doing between my happy legs, he'd have ridden back out to the ranch with a posse and hung them up like jackals."
Jim could begin to feel a pleasant little twitch somewhere in the center of his recently exercised prick. He knew what the cause of the twitch was: it was simply the erotic thought of a sixteen-year-old girl getting her lascivious cunt screwed by four man-sized cocks.
"Tell me about it," he pleaded softly.
Vona grinned, and moved her legs even higher up on the bed and further apart, just so he would have an interesting and provocative view while she told her little tale of youthful lust.
"You sit down in that chair right there by the bed, honey," she purred, "and I'll tell you a story that will make that honey-spurter of yours stand up like a Spanish saddle horn!"
He took the chair and pulled it up right to the edge of the bed--so he had a solid view of her crotch and tits. His cock was already growing a little more restive, and he could feel the veins along the sides of it beginning to fill slowly with warm, pulsing blood.
"Shoot, baby," he husked.
"Like I told you, I was just a girl at the time--but I wasn't a virgin. Daddy might have thought I'd never been touched, but the truth of the matter was that the summer before when I was only fifteen, a farmhand named Buck had taken me down into one of the cow lots behind the barn and taught me how to fuck.
"Buck wasn't young, but he sure wasn't too old to get that long peter of his up hard and stiff. I remember that he made me unbutton his jeans and pull that big pussy-pumper out of his fly. That was after he had played with my barely fuzzed-over slit, of course, and had got me so hot with a lot of gentle finger-fucking that I would have taken on a stallion.
"I took Buck's forty-year-old prick out of his pants and squeezed it in my hands until I swear to God it was as hard as the end of a wagon tongue. Just a big hot pipe of cowboy cock!
"I was so excited by that time that I didn't give a damn in hell what I did. I kissed and licked Buck's stiff twanger while he grinned right up to his earlobes and watched me through slitted, greedy eyes. He'd had lots of experience in getting young virgins hot and bothered, but he told me later that he'd never in his life seen one take to cocksucking the way I did.
"I think I must have performed oral sex on him for about fifteen or twenty minutes, but he never did come. He knew how to hold it back, how to keep his penis magnificently stiff while somebody loved it with a wet tongue. But finally even Buck couldn't take any more teasing, and he pulled my panties down again and fucked me right there in the cow lot.
"I must have been hot-natured from the day I was born, because I remember that Buck's long dick didn't hurt me at all. In fact, I started coming the second he poked it into me--and I kept coming all the time he humped.
"After that lovely initiation into sex, Buck and I fucked every chance we got. We used to figure out all kinds of things to get his prick into my pussy. We'd do it out in the scrub oaks, down in the barn, over in a pasture, in the cellar and henhouse, and sometimes after Daddy was asleep I'd slip out to the bunkhouse and make Buck screw me half the night.
"It was good while it lasted, but one day Daddy fired Buck for some damned fool reason--and I was left high and dry. I stayed that way until Daddy hired the four young cowboys. You talk about being homy for some prick! The second I saw those four grinning studs giving me the sly eye my clit stuck up between the folds of my pussy like a goddamn pickle!
"My chance came, as I said, one Sunday afternoon when Daddy went off to court the Widow Benton. The second he was out of sight, I hightailed it out to the bunkhouse and invited those four big-pricked studs to have at me.
"They were scared shitless at first, although all of them had been thinking about damned little else than how it would be to ease their horniness between my legs. The oldest one of them was about twenty-two, and the youngest one was eighteen.
"It was the young one, believe it or not, who had the biggest cock. That damned thing looked like an elephant's trunk hanging down between his legs. I don't mean to suggest that the others were short-changed in the joystick department. The smallest peter in the crowd would have been enough to make a virginal old maid screech like an owl with a burr up its ass. When I finally convinced them that I wouldn't tell Daddy if they did what I needed done, they jumped on me like stallions on a mare.
"God, if I live forever I'll never forget that session. You can't imagine how nice it was! I took them on one at a time. While one fucked me, the others watched and stroked their cocks and joked about how deep and hot my hairless young twat was. We fucked like animals for an hour or so, and then I got around to doing things with my mouth. Only one of those bucks had been sucked off--by a Mexican whore in El Paso--but they took to it like real troopers. The young one, especially!
"By the time I had feasted all the way around the lineup my tongue felt like a swollen slab of liver--and I had enough sperm in my tummy to populate Dallas!
"We still weren't through. Somebody suggested that we do something together. Talk about a sensitivity session, Texas style! I insisted that the young one put his big prick into the widened hole between my legs. He lay down on the bam floor and I got on top of him doggie-style. When he was into me up to his sweet balls, one of the other cowboys plugged into my asshole for a little cornholing. That left two other big cocks to be satisfied--and all I had left was my armpits! When they finally get around to cataloguing the perversions of this world, honey, getting fucked in the armpits while both your other holes are filled to capacity will have to top the list for fun!
"I started coming two seconds after we started, and I kept coming until every one of those long-legged, cunt-crazed bastards had emptied his balls!
"I'd like to say I was a good little girl after that, but why lie about it. The truth is that I went back for more that very night! The young one had a hard-on the second I stepped back into the bunkhouse, and he took me out to the pasture under the moonlight and fucked me until I was limp as a rag doll.
"Daddy never suspected a thing, of course, and for the six weeks the cowboys were around I had myself a ball. Eight balls, to be exact! And after that, my pussy started growing hair and teeth! I remember that the last night I got fucked by all four of them, that eighteen-year-old wrangler was getting his jumbo into my slit so far he was watering my womb with his spunk!"
Vona dropped the tale at that point. She knew there quite possibly could be more lies to dream up about that mythological orgy with four cowhands, but she had already done the trick.
Jim's prick was standing up like a stone tower.
In seconds, he was positioned between her legs again, and his charger was pumping her gash with more gusto than an Arab full of Spanish Fly.
It took him longer to come this time, but both of them had no complaints about it.
Vona wrapped her legs around his waist and beat her heels into his buttocks to urge him on. She only wished she'd had a pair of spurs on.
When his prick gushed a final tribute to the power of her clasping cunt, he pulled out again. Her pussy gaped open like a raw wound, and their combined juices trickled like nectar down between the crease of her buttocks.
She grinned at him. "Want to hear about the time I got locked into a cabin with a sheepherder and his six sons?"
"Christ-to-God no!" She chuckled, and rolled over on the squeaky bed so that her plump ass was lifted invitingly.
"Cornhole me, honey," she crooned.
"If I had a damned table leg I would, Vona. Jesus, I've never seen such a glutton for screwing in my life. Don't you ever get enough?"
"To put it in words of one syllable, hell no. So if you're through, hero, drop by the desk and tell the old man that I'm ready for Sam."
He stared at her as he pulled weakly back into his clothes. "Who the hell is Sam?" he asked.
Vona's lusty mouth turned up in an obscene grin. "Sam happens to be a local pool-room stud who hangs around the hotel just to pick up a few bucks. I told the old man down there when I arrived that I'd probably be needing Sam before the day was over, so he should be waiting for his cue."
"You're out of sight, Vona."
"So is Sam, honey. If you were a female you'd pull your panties down so fast for Sam that your ovaries would rattle. One look at what that sexy ram has between his legs makes my hot old pussy bark'."
Jim chuckled, and finished putting on his clothes.
As he wandered to the door of the room, Vona's voice cut across the silence like a whip.
"You didn't tell me about your plan for this week?"
"You mean about using my love muscle?"
"Right!"
He smiled. "It's just that I decided Peg needs to be taught a lesson. If she thinks she can sneak around to those sex-bouts with a lot of Doctor Carter's homy male patients, then I don't see any reason for me to sit home and knit."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning there are a few females in that apartment complex we live in that look hungry for some good grade-A beef. I'm gonna fuck myself blind until Peg comes to her senses."
"Is that wise? You could ruin your marriage."
He gave her one last, amused glance. Right into that big, over-fucked crotch of hers.
"Yeah, thanks for the advice, Mrs. Dawson," he said.
Downstairs he told the old man that Mrs. Smith was ready for somebody named Sam.
And then, on his way out of the mangy hotel, he saw what had to be the Sam in question.
Slouched in one of the battered leather armchairs toward the front was a very tall, very good-looking black guy. He was exactly what you would expect a pool-room Romeo and part-time stud-for-women to look like. Only he had one thing going for him that most black guys only dream about--he was light-colored, and had a face that looked more like Harry Belafonte than Harry Belafonte does. A damned good-looking male.
Then, as Jim passed him he noticed one final attribute that Vona no doubt appreciated most of all.
The black stud's cock was half-hard in his tight jeans--and it looked like the kind of cunt-stuffer that would have made two of any white man's.
Jim grinned to himself when he got out on the street, thinking about how old Vona was going to be groaning for the next hour or so with that midnight cowboy riding her slutty ass.
CHAPTER SIX
Dr. Lon Carter moved behind the big desk in the spacious room and settled himself so that he was almost silhouetted against the bright light behind him. The light came from two floodlamps which had been deliberately directed at a big foam rubber mat in the center of the room.
The six couples--three men and three women, all strangers to one another--watched him carefully.
"This first sensitivity session for you new groups of people," Lon began casually, "is what we call the beginner's acquaintance session. It goes by the more technical name of interpersonal transparency, but don't let that big label fool you. All it really means is getting to know each other, and certainly it means getting rid of some of the silly ideas and misconceptions you have about sex--and the varieties of sexual experience."
He looked around the room until his eye lit on the pretty but apprehensive face of Peg Sawyer.
"You, for example, Mrs. Sawyer, can act as a kind of norm for the group. Do you remember how uncertain you were the first afternoon when you came to my office--and how I ironed out some of your deepest anxieties by simply leading you over to that big leather couch in my office and feeling up your pussy?"
The raw words--truthful though they were--sent a little tingle of shame through Peg's body. Her cheeks blushed a beet-red as she glanced quickly around the room to see if any of the other members of the group were perhaps giving her scornful looks.
But nobody was even looking at her.
"Do you remember that, Peg?" Lon Carter demanded, his voice as firm as a professor's.
"Yes--uh--I do remember."
"Good. And would you tell the group what we did after that?"
God, I can't! Peg thought.
"Go ahead, Peg. Don't be afraid--and above all, don't feel any of that old-fashioned shame you have lived with since you were a girl."
"I--we--"
"We did what?"
"We had intercourse."
Lon smiled. "Wrong, Peg. We fucked. We're not going to use any of the hypocritical, euphemistic terms in this room. I put my prick into your willing, aroused pussy and I fucked you quite steadily and thoroughly until you came. Until your cunt was juicing, isn't that right?"
"Yes."
At that point, Lon mercifully directed his attention away from Peg and leveled instead on a tall, good-looking young man in a natty business suit who was sitting directly on his left.
"And you, Fred. Tell the group exactly what you told me that first day you came to my office." The young man smiled weakly, then took a deep breath. "Well, doctor, I came to your office and told you I had a problem. I said that my wife couldn't satisfy me. At least not the way I liked to be satisfied."
"And how is that, Fred?"
The young man was blushing now almost as much as Peg. His jaw muscles were working like big worms.
"Tell us, Fred. And use the working man's vernacular, please."
"I like to have my ass licked."
There was a small pause, but before it could get to the embarrassing stage Dr. Carter picked up the ball.
"You mean that you want your wife to put her tongue into your asshole, Fred. You like for her to lick you and jack you off at the same time?"
"I didn't say she did do it, doctor. I said I think about wanting her to do it all the time. But Janie wouldn't do a filthy thing like that. She's a nice... "
"She's not nice at all, Fred. She's not even understanding. But she might be if she only knew what you wanted her to do. She might like to have her own asshole sucked. Many females are actually cured of their frigidity by having males sniff behind their naked buttocks and lick them--dog-like. " On that, one of the other females lifted her hand boldly. She was a well-groomed woman of about thirty, and even under the sedate black dress she was wearing it was obvious that she was built like a burlesque queen. Her breasts seemed like two big fists trying to work their way through the material. "Yes, Linda?" Dr. Carter said.
"I just wanted to say that I have something of the same problem with my George. Only he's the one I have to worry about offending. I might as well confess my problem to everybody and get it over with. I'm mad about balls, and I'm mad about piss."
"Your own--or your husband's?" Lon asked, almost dryly.
"About George's, of course. When we first got married I asked him to piss in my mouth and on my tits. I thought he was going to divorce me without waiting for the sun to come up."
"But he didn't."
"No. But he told me that I should see a psychiatrist. That was four months ago."
Lon smiled, and put his fingertips together on top of the big desk. "And do you want to tell the happier part of your story, Linda?"
The big-breasted young lady smiled. "Yes. George is now in one of your other sensitivity sessions--and he's learning how it is to indulge other human beings in--in--"
"Reciprocal influences?" Dr. Carter suggested helpfully.
"Yes!"
After that, almost everybody seemed ready and willing to talk--to be a part of the group.
Peg's ears burned scarlet as she heard the strangers, one after the other, rattle off their deepest, most secret sexual urges and ambitions.
One of the women loved to have sex with two men at the same time. Another liked to be tied up and gagged, then fucked four or five times over a period of two hours while she thought only about little boys in short pants.
One of the males could only get excited by women with dirty fingernails, and he told an amusing story of how he used to bewilder his wife by insisting that they have sex after she had been potting roses--and before she could wash her hands.
Another of the males, a big man who seemed eager to tell the group that he had a prick as big around as a baseball bat, said that he liked nothing better than to have his wife paint her lips a different color every night, and then let him straddle her so that he could fuck her throat.
When they were all finished confessing, Dr. Carter cleared his throat professionally and addressed the group as a whole.
"A hostile, outside world might listen to your stories and consider you all a pack of wild beasts. That world would no doubt insist on pinning the tired and worn-out labels on you which were so fashionable under the earlier, Freudian-oriented concepts of our sexual natures. The truth is that Freud's psychology stems from and foolishly reflects the same insane mores of the sick society it was trying to cure. Today we no longer consider the multitudinous varieties of sexual needs as shameful or evil. They are simply expressions of natural instincts."
The room was silent again for a moment as Dr. Carter examined a paper on his desk.
"I've decided to call today's session The Mind Unwind," Lon said, slowly, "and since all sexual urges begin in the mind, I want you people to consider what you have told me--and what you have told each other--and then I want you to try as hard as you can to make each other happy." He looked up and swept the group with one sure look. "Now, will you please take off your clothes--and when you feel ready to participate in the game, please step onto the mat. If for any reason you want to momentarily eliminate yourself from the game we are playing, then all you have to do is step off the mat. It is that simple. Nobody off the mat can be touched. Are you ready?"
There was a general nodding of heads.
"Then strip naked and enjoy yourselves in any way you can! " There was a natural hesitancy at first to strip.
But the ice was rather dramatically broken by the big-titted female named Linda. When she crawled out of her blouse and bra, the three males almost broke their fingers getting their pants off.
The guy with a prick the thickness of a baseball bat was on the mat first, waiting for the jumbo-boobed Linda to join him.
Peg had thought the sex session might disgust her, but when she saw how easily everybody was stripping she lost her silly modesty. If everybody was naked, she reasoned, then nobody would be ashamed.
Besides, the sight of the huge phallus between the legs of the big man was exciting her in a very strange way. It wasn't, she told herself, that she considered the size of a penis so important, it was simply that she had every reason to believe that a man with a prick that large and long could really bring her to a climax.
But Peg was slow--too slow--and the first one to take advantage of the big tool was the woman who said she liked to have sex with two men at the same time. She was already down on her knees in front of the champion stud, sucking his prick with her brightly painted mouth. It was exactly what the man had said he liked, and in only seconds his cock was so large and stiff that the woman's cheeks were bloated out like a chipmunk's.
Another couple had joined the cocksucking duo. One was the good-looking young man in the natty business suit. Out of it he looked even younger, although his legs were very hairy and a bit bow-legged. He had a prick that was slim but very long and very hard, and the woman who was urging him to get down on all fours was the same one who said she loved to be tied up and gagged.
Peg watched as the female stuck her tongue up into the anus of the hairy-legged male. The woman began to lick and suck very deep into the asshole in front of her, despite the fact that it turned out to be equally hairy. As she licked, she put one hand up under the man's legs and began to gently masturbate him.
The final couple joined the mat. The man who liked women with dirty fingernails seemed to find that he also liked females with very large tits. He was gnawing and sucking on Linda's prize melons while she held his balls palmed in her hands.
That left only Peg, who was not even on the mat although she was very, very naked.
Dr. Carter came from around the desk to her side.
"Why did you ask me to come today," she hissed at him softly. "I seem to be the odd one. Six couples--and me!"
He was smiling at her. "Wrong again, Peg. You seem to be forgetting that I'm a male. I thought it might be better if I was the one to lead you into the fray. You're not frightened, are you?"
Peg cast one more slightly nervous glance at the obvious orgy that was beginning to develop on the floodlighted mat.
"I--I don't think so," she breathed, "and even if I were, I don't think anybody could care less!"
Lon Carter nodded. He was already slipping out of his clothes, and Peg stood beside him feeling the tip-ends of her nipples beginning to perk and rise.
She wanted to be fucked--and not just by Lon, either. She wanted to be screwed by the man with the big prick.
She could feel the hair-lined cuntal lips down between her legs starting to thicken and tingle, and despite the fact that nobody had even touched her yet, she could also feel her clitoris moving up through the softness of her folded cunt.
In moments, Lon was naked and standing very close beside her. He slid one arm around her waist and with his other hand he began to gently cup and massage first one of her swelling tits and then the other. She could feel the electricity running through her breasts, as if they were great white globes that were being turned on by his fingers.
"I love your nipples," he whispered softly, urging her onto the mat by gently pushing her buttocks forward with his bare knees. "And I'll bet you'd like to have them sucked on by every man-jack here, wouldn't you?"
Peg gulped. "Nobody seemed interested in doing that," she whispered.
Lon grinned and pulled at the blunt end of one of her flushing pink nipples with his thumb and index finger. "Don't be silly, Peg," he explained, huskily. "There's not a man in this room who isn't interested in the conventional forms of sex, too. Just because a man may like to have his prick sucked by a wildly painted mouth doesn't mean he also doesn't like the other varieties of sex. Any man likes to suck on a pair of firm young tits--and fuck a pussy out of wedlock!"
Peg heard the words gratefully. For the first time since she had entered the room she realized that the males on the mat were, after all, just ordinary husbands like her own Jim. Just males who all shared one thing in common--the unadulterated passion to feel of women and have women feel of them.
"C'mon, Peg," Lon whispered teasingly, "let me fuck you a little while--and then when you're warmed up maybe somebody else can take over. We'll try to do something about that tiny talent for nymphomania you've developed. You're the type who secretly wants to get fucked by a lot of men, one right after the other--so there's no point in hiding it."
With that, Peg allowed herself to be literally propelled into the middle of the mat. There were couples on either side of her and Lon, and they were busily engaged in several forms of erotic fun. The big-breasted Linda was squatting over the face of the man who liked dirty fingernails, and he was avidly lapping at her cunt. Peg could see the lips of the spicy pussy hanging open and drooling like a mouth as the man's long, thick tongue buried itself over and over with sharp jabs.
On the other side of them, the guy who loved having his asshole licked was still having it licked. This time he was being serviced to slow ecstasy by the female who said she liked being fucked by two men. She was on her hands and knees, sucking and smelling the hairy anus in front of her--while being unromantically fucked by the man with the huge prick.
The sight of that large, stiff cock slicking ponderously in and out of the brightly inflamed cunt of the lucky bitch drove Peg's own clitoris into its final erection.
She welcomed the husky tool of Lon Carter as if it were manna to a starving mouth.
She lay back and lifted her legs wide apart as Lon crawled on top of her. He had fucked her so many times by now that his prick seemed to go into her cunt by a sexual radar.
The only foreplay Peg had been given--aside from the bit of tit-playing that Lon had done--was what had gone on in her mind from observing the others. But that had been enough to make her juices start running, and when Lon's blunt-nosed prick found the sappy cleft of her pussy he had no trouble at all in pushing in almost to his balls.
He began to fuck her with a steady, animal rhythm. He worked his cock deeper into her with each stroke and very quickly she could feel his glans rubbing lustily against the pouting wall of her cervix. She moaned with passion and her cunt began to dilate so that the head of his cock could push up even further.
But Lon's prick wasn't quite long enough, and although it was thick in the middle and felt good bulging out against the walls of her vagina, she knew that it would take the big man's monster to satisfy her most obscene lusts.
As Lon continued to relentlessly screw her boiling cunt, Peg rolled her head in both directions to watch the others. What she could see looked like something out of the cellars of hell--or the attics of paradise. The whole crowd seemed to be losing even the last vestiges of moral restraint.
She particularly found herself being turned on by what one couple was doing. They were in a sixty-nine position on one comer of the mat. Both of them seemed as greedy as buzzards tearing at raw meat. The woman was on top and the man had both of his legs raised high and wrapped around her neck and shoulders so that she could suck his prick right down to the root. The woman was not only sucking him until her ovaled lips were touching his balls, she was holding the cheeks of his ass apart so that a second female--the one who liked being tied up--could lick his anus. As for the man, his head was buried so deep between the legs of the woman on top of him that all Peg could see were his ears.
Such abandoned, pornographic sights did nothing at all to cool down Peg's foaming cunt--and she urged Lon to fuck her faster and deeper so the golden moments of whorish delight would keep glittering.
But Lon couldn't keep up such masterful screwing forever, and even before Peg could get the full savorings of his stiff meat he was spurting glut after glut of fire-hot sperm into her libidinous hole.
He kept fucking until he was empty, and then he pulled his swollen cock from between the pulsing, sucking lips of her cunt. As proof that she didn't want him to leave her, the outer flesh of her vulva was pulled forward like pink elastic as his penis retreated.
Lon stood up, his long and glistening prick hanging down and dripping with her juices and his own sperm.
The sight of his tool drove a rod of lust through Peg's brain, and with a snarl of need she reached up and pulled him by his buttocks until he was straddling her shoulders. Her mouth scooped up the spongy head of his dick and she began to suck him like a whore.
He stood with his arms hanging down and a slack grin on his lips as she mouthed and chewed his cock back into a fairly stiff state. Then suddenly he felt something stiff nudging against the side of his buttock. He glanced around to see the man with the giant prick grinning at the way Peg was blowing the doctor 's tool.
"Can I fuck her, doc?" the man rasped, stroking his huge rod until the head of it resembled an oversized pink mushroom.
"She'd like that," Lon said amiably. "Go ahead and give her a thrill while she eats me. She hasn't come yet, and I know the lady loves big ones."
It was all the man had to hear. He fell down between Peg's sprawled legs and hoisted her feet up on his shoulders. Her cunt was still gaping open, the hair tangled and matted with sperm around the scarlet gash that seemed to be yowling for a cock.
The big man had all the cock a pussy could take, and with one brutal thrust he drove two-thirds of it solidly up Peg's slit.
She knew who was fucking her.
The powerful gush of pleasure covered her like flames, and she could feel her tongue growing thick with lust as she sucked wantonly on Lon's steadily hardening penis.
The man's cock felt like a baseball bat between her legs. The more he pumped her, the deeper he got that hellish prod of his--and this time the magic thing happened. The head of his cock not only reached her cervix, it plumbed beyond so that the mouth of her womb acted as a kind of suction pump.
She started coming almost immediately, but instead of one violent spasm she found herself experiencing a continuous series of small, exquisite orgasms that seemed to spread out through her loins like a peacock's tail.
She closed her eyes and sucked Lon's beautifully stiff cock until he was so aroused that he was fucking her throat. With both his hands around the back of her head he copulated with her lascivious mouth until his balls were slapping hard against her chin. And only when she felt her own happy cunt exploding again in a series of lecherous orgasms did she chew the head of Lon's prick, forcing him to shoot another load of boiling sperm into her throat.
Peg didn't know how long the sensitivity session lasted. But she did know that she was the last one off the mat--at least the last female.
Before it was over, she had been fucked by every male in the room at least once. And she had sucked the big man off twice, loving like a glutton the way his huge rod made her cheeks balloon out as his sperm shotgunned against the back of her throat.
When it was finally, really over, Peg felt very light-headed, the way she had once felt when coming out of anesthesia in a hospital. And even after she had put on her panties, the thick and pouting lips of her cunt seemed to be pushing out like little fists.
"Did you enjoy yourself?" Lon asked, when he ushered her to the door of the office.
"You know I did--but I'm not sure that the cure isn't worse than the bite!"
He grinned at that. "Beginner's enthusiasm. In later sessions, you'll learn not to make such a sweet pig of yourself. You'll learn to relax and have those orgasms like a lady."
"Will the big man be at the next entertainment?"
"You mean sensitivity session, Peg. No, he won't. But I'm sure you'll find some acceptable substitutes."
She was disappointed, but tried not to show it. Nevertheless, Lon guessed her inner feeling and brushed her ear with a warm promise.
"Wait until you meet Willy," he whispered confidently.
CHAPTER SEVEN
All Jim knew for sure about Mrs. Marsha Brown was that she lived in the same apartment complex that he and Peg lived in, and that she looked like one wild prospect for a night of mad fucking.
Mrs. Brown lived on the floor below them, and so Jim had run into her at least two dozen times in the elevator. Sometimes she was with her husband and sometimes she was alone. On those nice occasions when she was alone Jim had tried to strike up a couple of friendly conversations.
And he had got exactly nowhere with her.
Mrs. Brown was not only on her guard, she was downright hostile if Jim grinned at her.
Of course, he knew that he couldn't just come right out and ogle her tits or lift up the hem of her dress, or anything. But he was certain that she was getting some kind of message from him--and just as certain that she wasn't half as turned off by his flirting overtures as she tried to appear.
Jim had picked her as his first prospect for a taste of adultery the very instant Peg informed him she was going to attend one of Dr. Carter's sensitivity sessions, come hell or high water.
"Go ahead and play the field," he had smirked, trying to make his tone of voice as indifferent as he could. "When you get fed up with all that bullcrap, let me know. In the meantime, baby, you can get your ass fucked any way and any place you can!"
His needlessly cruel remarks had made Peg cry, but when he apologized she came right back with a cutting remark of her own--and told him again that she had every intention of letting Lon Carter show her the way to more realistic insights into her own nature.
And with that, his mind had gone right back to the stubborn determination to fuck around just as much as Peg was.
And that meant Mrs. Marsha Brown with her honey-gold hair, her boyish hips, her pointing young tits, and what was probably a very experienced slit of pure fire up between her legs.
Mr. Brown was a salesman of some kind, Jim knew, and his work took him out of town as regular as clockwork. For the first two or three days he kept mental notes of the coming and going of Mr. Brown. Just to make sure he wouldn't be caught in some compromising position when he finally made a play for Marsha's twat.
One thing he knew he had going for him: Mr. Brown was at least ten years older than his attractive wife, and he was bald as an egg. That meant there was no contest when it came to who was better looking. Jim knew he was.
On the afternoon that Peg went for her first sensitivity session--luckily enough a Saturday afternoon--Jim had already laid out an erotic plot of conquest in his mind.
He'd simply make sure that Mr. Brown had really gone out of the city on one of his trips, and then he'd saunter down to the Brown's apartment and introduce himself on the pretext that he had heard Mr. Brown was from Chicago, and that he had relatives there.
A thin pretext, perhaps, but anything to get a foot in the door.
The second Peg was out of the apartment, he took a shower and doused himself with the best cologne he had. While standing in front of the bathroom mirror shaving he got a terrific hard-on. He only wished that Marsha Brown could somehow have X-ray vision so she could see what a big twanger was wanting to find a home in her married pussy. He'd had even more experience than that fruity Lon Carter, he thought, when it came to knowing what a gal with a broken-in cunt likes. She likes the thrill of getting her goddamn hole chocked full of a good-size prick from time to time--and a prick that isn't attached to the balls of her husband.
He grinned while he shaved, and the head of his randy tool stood up like the fat bud of a giant rose.
He even had visions of Mrs. Brown down on her hands and knees sniffing that big dork of his. One thing for sure, he mused lustily, she'd like the smell of it better than any fucking rose in captivity.
When he was finished in the john, he went back to the bedroom and put on a pair of hip-hugging slacks. He didn't bother to put on any shorts because he wanted that cunt-rod of his to show nice and big in his pants.
He put on a striped sports shirt, combed his hair, strapped on his wrist watch, then left the apartment for his conquest.
The elevator ride down to the next floor was almost as exciting as having somebody gently massage his nuts. He just hoped to hell he didn't get another erection before Mrs. Brown was ready for it. He believed in advertising, but not a hard-sell right off the bat.
He walked on the balls of his feet down the hall to the door number he had memorized.
He knocked on the door briskly, and while he waited he let a small grin etch up the corners of his mouth. But when the door opened, his smile faded into an open-jawed gulp .
The female in front of him wasn't Marsha Brown, after all.
It was Madge Clayton--the wife of the manager of the apartment building.
Mrs. Clayton was a tall, rather bony woman who always wore her hair in a mildly severe bun on top of her head. She was a couple of years older than Jim and Peg--and she had a no-nonsense hardness to her mouth and eyes that made the average apartment dweller avoid her like the plague.
"Yes, Mr. Sawyer?" she said crisply.
It was only when Jim noticed she was swaying a bit in the doorway--and when he got a tell-tale whiff of vodka--that he could find his voice.
"Uh, I was looking for Mrs. Brown. I... "
"Marshal Gentleman to see you, honey!"
With that, Mrs. Clayton stepped back and motioned for Jim to come in.
What he wanted to do was turn around and get the hell out of there. But before he could think of anything to say, Marsha Brown appeared beside Madge Clayton with a drunken, radiant smile.
"Why, it is Mr. Sawyer," she slurred carelessly. "Come on in and tell us how the weather is outside."
The silly remark was just the right thing to set Madge Clayton off and running. Her giggles began somewhere in the area of her flat chest and traveled bumpily up into her mouth. She was still giggling when Marsha pulled Jim by the hand into the apartment. "Don't mind Madge," Marsha gurgled, "she's had so many damned screwdrivers that she doesn't know her derriere from a daisy!"
"You mean hole-in-the-ground!" Madge Clayton guffawed, blazing pink with both pleasure and embarrassment.
Jim wasn't sure whether he was pleased or not by the obviously uninhibited condition of Marsha Brown. It would have been fine, he knew, if Madge Clayton was out of the picture. But she wasn't. There she was, as big as a barber pole full of vodka.
All he had to do was make one false move, and the second Madge Clayton sobered up she'd go straight to her husband and talk for a week about the sex-fiend on the fourth floor.
"Uh--I was really looking for your husband, Mrs. Brown," he began helplessly. "I heard that he was from Chicago and... "
"We both are," Marsha grinned, "but why talk about it on an empty tummy. What's your drink, Mr. Sawyer? But before that, what's your name?"
"His name is Jim," Madge said, reaching around to find her screwdriver she'd left somewhere on a table.
"Okay, Jim," Marsha breathed, fixing him with her slightly glazed brown eyes, "what's your poison?"
Despite himself, he gave Marsha Brown a small, quick wink while Madge Clayton's back was conveniently turned--and also despite even the smallest bit of common sense he knew he still possessed, he formed one silent word with his lips at her. The word Pussy! "Huh?" Marsha asked, just as Madge turned back to face them.
"Pernod," Jim managed feebly.
Marsha seemed to consider it for a few blurred seconds. "Oh, that stuff. We haven't got any. I can give you a slug of my husband's best Scotch, maybe."
"Give him a goddamn screwdriver," Madge grinned, "and he can take it or leave it."
I've got your fucking screwdriver hanging, Jim thought, glancing at the hard-assed manager's wife, hut you'll never have the pleasure of getting my tool between your bitch legs!
"Maybe we can find something in the kitchen for you," Marsha purred, pulling at Jim's arm with surprisingly strong fingers. "C'mon!"
Jim found himself being literally dragged back to the kitchen. He had time for only one last glance over his shoulder. He was relieved to see- that Madge Clayton wasn't following them, but that she had slumped down in one of the easy chairs by the sofa and was pawing in her purse for a cigarette.
Marsha closed the kitchen door behind them, then turned to Jim with her brown eyes dark and lusty.
"You want pussy?" she whispered hotly. "Is that what you said you wanted?"
"Well, I... " The words died in his throat as Marsha suddenly jerked up the front of her dress and pawed down her panties.
Jim's eyes grew into lusty ovals as he stared boldly right at her cunt. That same honey-gold hair was growing in mossy profusion over the long, narrow slit of her sex.
"Jesus, baby," he breathed, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and feeling his prick beginning to twitch in his pants. "Christ, I wanta fuck that for you!"
Her drunken grin was as wide as her crotch. "Go ahead, stud!"
He gulped again. "With Mrs. Clayton sitting right out there? You must be out of your goddamned gourd! "
"Don't mind Madge," she hummed at him, pulling her dress even higher and sticking her pussy out at him like a whore, "that old slut is probably dying for some meat herself! Fuck both of us!!"
"I don't want her, damn it! Can't you get rid of her?"
Marsha's eyes slitted with drunken greed. "Will you promise to screw me, if I do? Will you fuck me until I come?"
He took a heart-pounding breath and rubbed the steadily growing bulge at his crotch.
"Honey, you get rid of that old sow and I'll fuck you so good you'll think my big prick is made of honey!"
It was all the encouragement she needed.
Her eyes darted down to the promising erection pushing out like a fist against the front of his pants, and she licked her lips hungrily. She dropped her dress, and as it billowed down over her tempting thighs she reached out and took hold of his hardening cock through his pants.
She felt every inch of his penis, like a miser measuring a big hoard of gold coins.
"Ummmm... I want that. I want every inch of that big slab of hot beef up my pussy!"
"Don't worry a damn thing about that," he rasped, making his prick throb to her touch. "Get rid of old dog-face out there, and we'll fuck ourselves to death!"
"Jiffy!" she slurred.
Then she turned and disappeared a little clumsily through the kitchen door.
Jim grinned wickedly and put his hand back down to his blood-pounding rod. He rubbed it gently, making it get up as hard as a bar of iron.
Hell, this is going to be like taking candy from a baby! he mused.
The more he rubbed his prick, the harder and longer it seemed to get in his pants. He just hoped to hell that nobody else came through that kitchen door. It would be very embarrassing for somebody to see him with his cock thrusting out the front of his pants like that.
One thing was sure: he hadn't been this hot for pussy since he was a teen-ager reading fuck books.
He waited for what seemed an eternity, but finally the kitchen door opened again and Marsha came fumbling back. She had a grin on her face that revealed every nuance of her erotic nature.
"She's gone," she whispered, "wicked old witch is gone."
Without bothering to answer, he came toward her and pulled her wildly against his body. He could feel his stiff cock pressing against the softness of her abdomen and the surprisingly blunt tips of her tits cutting through his shirt.
He slapped his mouth over hers and shot his tongue deep into her throat.
They stood for a few moments, swaying, tongue-sucking, pressing their bodies as close as possible.
Then he let both his hands fall down to her hips. He dug his giant penis roughly into the planes of her stomach at the same time he kneaded and squeezed the marvelously firm flesh of her buttocks.
His mouth brushed across her cheek to her ear. "Jesus, you're one helluva hot piece of fucking female," he husked. "I've been wanting to smell around your panties for weeks!"
"I know," she breathed, both aroused and amused by his lust. "And I've been wanting you to do it! I've been dreaming about how it might be to have you fuck me!"
All the salacious talk was making his balls swell to the exploding point.
"Where to, baby?" he whispered raggedly. "Want me to fuck you right here in the kitchen or... "
"No, the bedroom! I want it on the same bed Harry and I screw on!!"
He liked that perverted little twist. It stirred even deeper notions of the male animal in him to think of screwing another guy's wife in the private sanctum of their bedroom.
She led the way by unbuttoning his fly and fishing out his rigid cock. Then she held onto it like a long handle and led him out of the kitchen and through the living room. She almost kicked open the bedroom door in her hurry to get down to the business of illicit sex.
The bedroom was tidy and large, and the curtains were already closed so it was in that half-light so conducive to untying all the knots of sexual restraint.
She turned and took hold of his stiff penis with both hands, squeezing it between her palms as if she couldn't quite believe the size and hardness of him. Her grin was the stereotyped grin of a slut gone mad with passion.
"Get naked!" she wheezed. "Let's fuck without a stitch on!!"
That suited him fine.
They both undressed like people with no time to spare.
When he saw her nude body--her deliciously big tits with the dark brown nipples standing out like thimbles--he knew he had to suck on them before he fucked her.
But she wanted more than just her boobs tongued.
She sat down on the edge of the bed and spread her legs apart like ivory nutcrackers. Then her drunken eyes blazed up at him like headlights.
"Get on your knees, Jim," she pleaded huskily. "Crawl over here and smell my cunt. Smell of it and lick it! I love to have my cunt sucked until it's hot--then I don't care if you fuck me for a month!"
He was so aroused now that he knew he'd do anything in the book to please her.
He fell to his knees and crawled the few feet to the prize of hairy meat between her legs. She was helping matters along by pulling back the moist lips of her vagina with the fingertips of both hands.
Her pussy gleamed open in front of him like a slice of sun-warmed melon.
He put his nose right up to the center of her cunt and smelled the spicy sweet-and-funky odor of her heating slit.
Christ, she smells like the hottest pussy in paradise! he mused.
"Lick it!" she crooned, thrusting her trim legs out so wide that he could get his shoulders against her knees. "Suck deep for it!!"
With a hoarse growl of lust he rammed his tongue into the sappy hotness of her cunt. He lapped up and down, then sideways. He could feel the rubbery inner lips of her pussy turning thick and grainy every place he probed. Already her juices were trickling to the back of his mouth--heated, salty, passionate.
She began to rock her thighs back and forth to make him tongue-fuck her faster.
He kept wishing his tongue was a foot long. He wanted to run it so far up her wanton hole that she'd feel it licking her liver.
She was making all the noise, the bleating, pleading cries of a female who knows she's met her match in a male that can not only use his mouth to satisfy her any time she wants it, but a male who can fuck her when the tonguing doesn't satisfy.
She reached down between her legs and grabbed his ears between her fingers. She pulled him forward like a beagle dog.
He opened his mouth wide enough to suck in most of her labia while his tongue delved deep in her cunt until it was almost as stiff as a prick itself.
They worked together for the next few minutes. He jawed and sucked and chewed so high and deep between her legs that her pubic hair was making long sideburns against his cheeks.
And then he found her clit. It was up and throbbing when his tongue wrapped around it. He concentrated on sucking only that scarlet, slippery wand of passion while using two fingers of his right hand to continue fucking motions inside her cunt.
She couldn't take much of it, but while she crested to a climax she let out a series of muffled howls that would have awakened the dead if they had been amplified.
She came in one of those violent, jerking spasms that most women only dream about.
He felt her juices spraying over his fingers and knuckles and dripping down over his wrist. But he didn't let up on her. With the hard-on he had, she'd need all the contracting power she could muster from cunt lips to womb.
Just as her orgasm was ebbing away he pushed her higher up on the bed, but not so high that her legs could do anything but dangle like a rag doll's over the edge.
He came up between her inert thighs like a bull with a ball bat strapped between his legs.
He had a prick too stiff to mount her until he used one hand to force it down into a more horizontal position. That way the big bulb of his cockhead rolled back the frothing flaps of her cunt with one thrust.
She groaned with both pain and pleasure as he fed inch after inch of his prick into her hairy grotto. He didn't stop until he was plugged into her right to his swollen balls. And even then he tried to push the spongy, rigid glans deeper.
When he had it in as far as he would ever get it, he started fucking her with deep and powerful strokes. The muscles in his naked buttocks worked numbing duty as he pumped, and the crease of his ass opened and closed on each savage plunge.
His greed didn't stop with fucking her pussy. He had to suck on those big tits of hers. Crouching low as he screwed, he moved from one pointing nipple to the other. He sucked nipple and cone of each tit until he had the ends of them bloated and firm. And then he lapped them with his tongue like large gumdrops.
Marsha made harsher sounds now and lifted both her legs out into a wide arc as one velvety orgasm after another met the hammering hardness of his prick.
He fucked her until her pussy was squishing and his rigid pole of meat was making lewd sucking sounds as it speared in and out of her. Her lubricated passage was allowing him to thrust in so deep that his balls were almost squeezing into her hole.
He felt his own climax starting at some point in both his testicles. The vibrations of pleasure shot out to the end of his cock and the blood-engorged head throbbed like the clapper of a bell against the walls of her cunt. He was coming like a madman, bucking and grunting as his sperm swarmed up the column of his cock and shot like lava into the deepest pockets of her pussy.
"Good God!" she gasped, fucking back at him as his rocketing sperm triggered another furious spasm of lust through her loins. "I'm coming again!"
When it was over and he was still crouching above her like a fucked-out stallion, sweat gleaming on his lifted buttocks and swollen balls, he heard the small, lust-drenched giggle behind him.
He whirled his head around just in time to see Madge Clayton stepping out of the closet, her face flushed like a mask of Eros.
She came toward the bed with a leering, nasty little smirk on her lips.
"I'll be wanting some of that, too," she breathed huskily. "But I want you when you're fresh, you hard-fuckin' stud!"
Marsha was frowning at her from under the lusty weight of Jim's body.
"Madge," she hissed, "you promised that you'd stay hidden in the damn closet and just watch!"
CHAPTER EIGHT
Over the next three or four days, Peg changed her mind a dozen times about whether to continue the sensitivity sessions or just let them drop.
The only thing that made her finally decide to go again was the memory of what Lon had whispered in her ear that first afternoon following the mad orgy in his office.
Wait until you meet Willy!
She could remember how her clitoris had vibrated like a tuning fork at the implication of what he meant. He was simply promising her another big prick--and that was the kind of siren call to her lusty need that was impossible to ignore.
Despite that, she did make an overture to get back into the good graces of Jim. Two nights in a row she powered her sexiest charms at him with candlelit dinners and low-cut dresses.
She might as well have been entertaining a eunuch!
He gulped down the food, ignored the candles and the romantic atmosphere, and flopped off into an exhausted sleep--leaving her sitting up alone in the apartment with the ridges of her unsatisfied pussy tingling and itching with frustration.
"Damn you," she had whispered after the second night of such blatant and inconsiderate treatment, "tomorrow I'll go back to Lon's office and see if this Willy character is what I need. And if he isn't, I'll make Lon himself fuck me again!" And then, as her bitterness flooded up into her brain, she added another promise to herself: or maybe I'll get them both to fuck me!
At the duly appointed time the following day she was letting herself into Lon's office. She had hoped to find him sitting behind his desk as usual, but instead she was confronted by Lon's wife, Norma.
Peg had never felt exactly comfortable around the statuesque, blonde wife of Lon Carter. And little wonder. She knew she'd feel uncomfortable herself around some woman who had screwed her husband. And the fact that Lon had assured her over and over that Norma knew everything he did with his patients, and considered it all a normal part of the sex therapy he was so obviously concerned with, did little to lessen the creepy feeling Peg felt whenever she met the woman face to face.
"Good evening, Mrs. Sawyer," Norma said, glancing up and giving Peg a warm smile. "I suppose you've come for the sensitivity session?"
"Yes."
"Good. Just have a seat. Lon isn't here today, and so he asked me to take over the session. Fortunately, it's going to be a relatively uncomplicated matter today. Just you and one other patient."
"One?" Peg asked, feeling a nervous uncertainty at the news.
Norma Carter's sleek, false eyelashes fluttered above her high cheekbones. "Yes, dear. You and Willy Smith. Didn't my husband tell you?"
"He mentioned somebody named Willy, but he didn't say there would just be two of us."
"That's all this session calls for," Norma hummed, looking down at a sheet of paper before her. "Lon has outlined the things I'm supposed to observe for today. The session is called Your Own Thing, but it's actually just a variation of the tested psychological method called Free Association. You and Willy will simply talk."
"About what?"
Norma smiled thinly. "Why, sex, of course. But if that makes you nervous, don't worry. I'll ask Willy to talk first. That way he can break the ice. I'll just sit in the background with Lon's notebook and take down a few observations. Just try to forget I'm even there."
Peg didn't say anything else until a few minutes later when a soft tap came on the office door.
"Is that him?" she demanded.
"Probably," Norma said, keeping her voice slightly low. "And look, Mrs. Sawyer, you mustn't be too surprised when you see Willy. He's a little out of our class. He's a blue-collar worker, and he's only coming to these sessions because Lon asked him to--so that Lon can study him."
She finished the last bit of explanation on her way to the office door, and Peg was already sitting on the edge of her seat by the time Norma got the door open to admit the visitor.
Willy Smith walked into the room and at the sight of him Peg felt a jolt of shock flood through her body.
He was black.
Willy was dressed in clean overalls and a blue work shirt, and he had a hammer hanging in the loop at the side of his pants. He was a very tall man with large nostrils and thick lips.
But all Peg could do was recoil within herself. She had never in her life been around black people--and the idea that she was about to talk about sex with a black man sent her mind reeling.
"If you and Willy will follow me," Norma was saying, casually.
If it had been Lon in the saddle instead of his wife, Peg knew she would simply have begged off the session. But she was damned if she would let Norma Carter see she was prejudiced. I wouldn't give her the satisfaction! she thought.
Willy Smith was looking at her, practically undressing her with his large, dark eyes, and his grin was something between a friendly smile and an arrogant smirk.
"Glad to know yawl," he said to Peg, sticking out a hand that would have made three of her own.
She shook his hand and before he released her hand, he did something which sent a sensual little thrill up her spine. He rubbed her palm with the padded ball of his middle finger.
She knew what the obscene signal meant, and she flushed pink--hoping Norma Carter had missed the gesture and her response.
"In here, please," Norma said, leading the way into the office where Peg had enjoyed the last sensitivity session. Only the high-powered lamps were missing now, as was the foam rubber mat. Instead, two chairs had been placed so that they faced each other. "Each of you take a seat," Norma said briskly, "and I'll just sit over here to one side. Willy, I'll ask you to begin the session. I believe Dr. Carter explained to you the last time what he wanted you to talk about."
Willy grinned sheepishly, showing even white teeth against the darkness of his lips. "Yes'm. The doc wanted me to tell about the first piece of white ass I got. " The raw words touched Peg's brain like a rasping file, but Norma seemed totally unperturbed.
"That's right, Willy. Just look right into Mrs. Sawyer's eyes and tell her everything you can remember. And please don't avoid using natural vernacular."
Willy glanced at Norma. "Avoid my what, ma'am?"
"Just call a spade a spade, Willy."
Willy chuckled. "Well, since I am a spade, I reckon I can do that. What you want is for me to say fuck and pussy when I feel like it, eh?"
"Correct. Now proceed, please."
Willy stretched out his long, overalled legs until his big brogan shoes almost touched Peg's tiny feet. She couldn't keep from glancing at the prominent bulge that protruded along the side of the black man's crotch. She thought at first that he already had his penis in erection, and then she realized with a kind of lusty jolt that his prick was simply that large and that long, soft.
"I reckon I can start way back when I was in Georgia," he drawled, "and that wouldn't be going back too far, because I was just eighteen when I hopped that freight and come up to Yankee country. I suppose that hopping on a fast train is a good place to start, 'cause if I hadn't caught a ride lickety-split out of Hummervill, Georgia, when I did, those white men back there would have nailed my big black balls to the closest tree!
"I don't think I done nothing to rile anybody, though. As far as I was concerned I was just trying to make a couple of white folks real happy. Happened this way, Miz Sawyer. I growed up in a family of six boys and four gals and so I learned about fuckin' and stuff when I wasn't but about thirteen years old. My sister taught me, the one named Tessy Mae. She was hot as a gun barrel about most all the time, and the day she pulled my pants down out in the cotton field and sucked my peter I guess I was turned on to pussy for life.
"I recollect that Tessy Mae and me fucked every day from then on, sometimes two or three times a day. I never thought a damn thing about her being my sister, 'cause everbody I knew was fuckin' their sisters. Besides, Tessy Mae said she just had to get her hot young cunt serviced by a big one now and then or she'd go out of her mind. And she told me that I not only had the biggest one she'd ever squirmed her ass around, she said I could keep it harder longer and shoot her hole fuller than any town white man she'd ever met up with! That was the first I knew that white folks would let us blacks have some fun with 'em. I figgered out for myself that if Tessy Mae was finding some white studs to fuck her, then I could by God probably find me some white pussy if I looked hard enough!
"I shore didn't have to look very far. Right up the road, in fact. There was a big house up there where the Widow Green and her sixteen-year-old niece lived. That widow lady scared the shit out of me at first, but ever time I seen her I made sure she saw me looking at her tits and her ass. And if she looked back at me, I'd just grin at her.
"She knew I had cunt on my mind, and I knew she had prick on hers. It was just that my big black peter probably scared her to death until she had time to think about it. By then I'll bet she'd used up a couple of bedposts gettin' her pussy big enough to take me on when a good time could come along.
"That time came when she started having me come up to the house to clean her yard. It was the hot summertime, and so I'd make sure I took off my shirt when I worked. Nothing can turn a white slut on like seeing a husky, eighteen-year-old black stud sweatin' those arms and shoulders out in the sunlight!
"First thing I knew, she was having me come on the back porch for some lemonade. After the first two or three times, she was letting me into the kitchen, and her dresses was gettin' lower and lower until one day all I had to do was peep over when she was pouring my drink and I seen both her tits big as shit. She had jaw-breakers, too. Big white things like giant bolls of cotton, and nipples red as a cat's tongue. Jesus Lordy, I knowed right then my peter had to get into that stuff!
"I reckon I was lucky that Miz Green was a widow lady and not one of them Southern belle old maids. She'd been fucked a whole lot before her husband got kicked in the head by one of his pure-bred horses, and now she'd had a dry hole for about five years. But once a good cunt hole, always a good one. I knowed that if I once got my big pumper deep enough into her pussy, she'd come like a gusher full of hot honey!"
At that point, Willy Smith paused in his lewd narrative, and grinned at the flushed and excited face of the woman in front of him. He had noticed that her eyes had kept up a kind of tennis game between his face and his prick--and just to tease her along a little he had let his twanger get about half hard.
As for Peg, the obscene and rambling tale of a young black boy's driving lust for a white woman had produced exactly the opposite effect of what she had expected. Instead of making her sick with disgust, the naughty story had started to make her cunt itch. And as she sat looking at the well-hung black stud in front of her, she knew she wanted to experience the same things that widow had.
"Like I was sayin'," Willy continued raspingly, "that white lady shore did want me to fuck her. I could see it in her eyes, but I wasn't going to make the first move. Not a black boy. If she wanted a taste of my big pecker, I was gonna make her unbutton my pants and pull it out.
"Yawl wanta know something real funny? That's exactly what that homy old bitch did. First thing I knew, she had her hands all over me, touching my sweaty arms and back and licking at my ear with her tongue. Hell, I got turned on so fast I thought my cock would rip up through my pants! Not only was she pawing me, she was whispering stuff in my ear that I thought even Tessy Mae would have hung her head in shame over. Stuff like wanting me to eat her and fuck her cunt and asshole, and asking me shit like had I ever had my balls played with and licked on.
"Next thing you know, the both of us was upstairs on a big feather bed. She had a pussy like a rag mop, but I was so damn homy that I'd have fucked a knothole. When she saw my big black mule, she went clear out of her head. She dropped down on her knees and started kissing and licking all ten inches of it. I remember I just stood there with my hands on my hips, grinnin' and watching her go to work. She sucked on me for a long time, but all it did was make my prick longer and harder until the veins were standing out on it like big, long, black worms.
"Next thing I knew she was making me lay down on that bed. My cock was standing straight up between my legs when she crawled on it. I thought sure I'd split that slut right in two, but her dripping cunt came down on my prod with a hot slurp and she inched it all the way up to the balls, with her eyes popping out like marshmallows!
"Shit, she could fuck, man! She rode me for a goddamn hour while she shot off one wad of juice after another. I held off coming until my nuts were feeling like bowling balls, and then I gave her greedy cunt such a blast that I thought she'd hit the fuckin' ceiling! I came until she had it running down between the crack of her asshole, with her still pumping up and down like a drunk monkey." Willy paused again, and after the silence dragged on for a few electric seconds Norma Carter's husky voice came trembling out of the corner of the room.
"What about the niece, Willy? What about the sixteen-year-old girl?"
Willy grinned until his teeth looked like a picket fence all the way across his dark face.
"Yawl mean little Bonnie Sue? Hell, that was the best part of the whole deal. She come in one day and caught me fuckin' her aunt. I don't know how long she watched us, but long enough to get hypnotized or something by my black ass humping up and down between her aunt's thighs. I reckon she liked what she saw, because it wasn't a day later that she caught me out behind her aunt's bam and demanded that I do the same thing to her.
"I remember that I almost shit cockleburrs at the thought of gettin' caught putting my big dong into that white gal's puss. But she wanted it something bad, and the more she begged for it the bigger and harder that devil got in my pants. So I just led her into the bam and up into the loft and pulled her panties all the way off her legs. She had a cunt that was just barely fuzzed over with hair, but it was a hot little motherfucker and by the time I worked half of my cock into it her tongue was licking the back of my throat for more! I fucked her until her pussy was sore but satisfied, and then I thought to-hell-with-it and taught her how to suck me off. She liked the taste of dark meat right off, and I had to finally pull her off my wet peter like a piglet getting pulled off a milky tit... "
"God!" Peg wheezed, feeling her own cunt beginning to grow as sappy as warm glue. "I can't take much more of this!"
Willy was grinning at her, and she could see his big prick had grown into a considerable weapon in his pants. In fact, it was pushing up against his fly like an arm.
"Yawl ain't heard how much them two white pussies liked for me to eat 'em," he breathed teasingly, "nor how I got caught fuckin' one while I sucked the other--and how I had to run with my prick waggin' out of my pants for that freight train heading north." "I don't give a damn about that," Peg hissed, "just let me see that big thing!"
Willy rolled his eyes casually past Peg toward where Norma Carter was poised on the edge of her chair, her notebook forgotten in her lap. He grinned again. "Yawl wantin' to see my peter again, honey--like last time?"
Peg heard Norma's embarrassed voice creaking up to try to minimize the calculated naivete of the sexy young man.
"Why, Willy, I-uh-you-"
"You remember how it was last time, Miz Carter," Willy persisted, only half-playing the role of the dummy. "You know how after your husband got done talking to me, you wanted me to fuck you on that sofa in the other office. Remember how you said I had the biggest one since you screwed some stud white boy back in college... "
"For God's sake, Willy!" Norma gulped, stumbling out of her chair and striding quickly over to where he was sprawled out with his big prick sticking hard up against his crotch. "Can't you keep your black mouth shut about anything!" Willy just grinned, and waited.
Norma glanced nervously at Peg--and found that she was grinning maliciously, too.
"Don't mind me, Mrs. Carter," Peg slurred. "It looks like there's enough cock there for both of us. Right, Willy?"
Willy licked his lips with a long tongue as pink as a baby's ass. "Honey, I could fuck four like you two--and still want my cock sucked all night!"
Peg was already up and pulling at her clothes. "Now just a minute," Norma stammered, panicked. "This is supposed to be a talk session!"
"We've talked enough," Peg spat. "Now we fuck!"
"Not me," Norma huffed.
Peg whirled on her, eyes glittering with lust and anger. "Listen, you prissy broad--I must be stupid to ask you to take a hunk of this sexy stud-horse because I could fuck him myself all night and any night. But I think we'd be less than hostessy if we didn't give him what he wants--and what he wants is two pussies to screw!"
"You've become a common slut, Mrs. Sawyer," Norma snapped.
"Maybe I have, but at least I'm learning to be honest about it. Now you shag ass out of those fancy clothes Lon bought you and help me make Willy happy--to say nothing of ourselves!"
It wasn't really a battle any more. Norma's eyes had already fallen on the last word in temptation. Willy had his oversized prick out of his pants and was stroking the black monster as if it were a toy.
Norma could remember only too well what it had felt like to have that big thing sandwiched up her tight, foaming cunt. And how he had made her come until her teeth rattled.
"How do you want us, Willy?" Peg was demanding hoarsely.
"I fucks and I sucks," Willy grinned, running his pink tongue out as if he were already lapping at a cunt.
In the next minute they were all stripped to the buff, with Norma and Peg fighting like a couple of street walkers over who would get screwed first.
Willy settled the matter by pulling Norma's wriggling hips down over his handsome face and spreading her pussy like a meat pie over his jaws.
Norma gasped, feeling the hard tongue boring like a prick up against the heating walls of her slit. She began to ride Willy's black face by bouncing her thighs up and down until her tits were flapping together like punching bags.
As for Peg, she knew a grand opportunity when she saw one.
She got down on her hands and knees and played with the huge ebony shaft of flesh standing up proud and hard between Willy's legs. She loved the velvety feel of his cock, and she spent several seconds moving the foreskin that snouted up over the pink glans. Her hands could barely reach around his penis, but that made her cunt only pulse wider in anticipation.
When she was itching like wildfire, she climbed aboard his black loins and lodged the egg-sized head of his prick between the lips of her sex. At first it was like trying to put an arm into a crack, but the more she worked the deeper she got his stiff tool up between her legs.
She was in a squatting position when she got him halfway in, and then with a sharp gasp of breath she sat down on his erect penis and the whole ten inches of it went up her cunt to his balls.
Tears trickled down her cheeks as she felt the agony and the ecstasy of getting the biggest prick this side of the Mason-Dixon up her ambitious twat.
But fucking it for the next half-hour was even more fun than that.
CHAPTER NINE
Jim was as nervous as a cat in a kennel.
Since the wild afternoon he had screwed Mrs. Marsha Brown's drunken pussy, he had been followed by Madge Clayton up hill and dale. The hills and dales in question were the corridors and various lobbies and elevators of the large apartment complex.
It seemed every place he turned she was there. Leering at him like a five-dollar whore with burr up her cunt.
Jesus, he thought, I don't want to waste myself on that scarecrow slut!
What he really wanted was a return match with Marsha. He had never enjoyed fucking a hole quite as much as he had hers. He could still remember how his prick had felt like a telephone pole riding in and out of her clasping, melted slit. And those handsome, thick-nippled titties of hers stayed in his mind like signposts of lust.
More than once he had awakened in the middle of the night with his cock sticking straight up in the air as hard as a horseshoe stake, wishing like hell he could pump it for five mad minutes in Marsha's slot.
But no such luck.
Now that she was sober, she was giving him the same old icicle treatment as before. It made him wonder if she even remembered how she had thrown her legs apart for him, and how she had mewed and purred as he made her cunt boil and foam.
But Madge Clayton was riding his shadow hell for leather. She was determined to get fucked by him, and he knew he couldn't hold her off much longer. Another twenty-four hours of keeping that homy wanton, at bay would be asking for all kinds of trouble. It would be just like her to get a loud speaker and yell it all over the place that he was a whoremongering rascal.
It would be better to sacrifice himself and fuck her.
He could always pretend she had a sack over her head.
So on the very afternoon that Peg went sassing off to one of her sensitivity sessions--to meet somebody she had vaguely referred to as Willy--he wandered down into the lair of the hot-bodied Madge.
He realized she knew Wednesday was his day off from the office--and she knew he would be available the second his wife was out of sight.
In fact, only minutes after Peg had left the building she had instinctively sniffed him out at the end of the third floor.
"Don't we have a date?" she breathed, clutching his muscled right arm in her talons.
He didn't really give a damn what he said to her, so he grinned slackly right into her homely face and whispered, "How do you want it, sweetheart, in the cunt or the asshole?"
"You'll see!" she trilled, pulling him along down the hall.
At first he thought she was going to take him right to her own apartment, and he had visions of that bald-headed husband of hers coming in on them while he was pumping to get his rocks off.
But she took him to another apartment. An empty one at the far end of the second floor.
"Safe here," she purred, unlocking the door with a master key. "Besides, there's something I want you to see--and if it doesn't get that big peter of yours hard and hot, then you'd better get glasses!"
He took what she was saying with a large grain of salt because he was sure that she was planning to lift up her bloomers to show him her shaggy pussy. And ugly broads are stupid enough to think that anything with balls goes into a tailspin at the sight of cunt.
"In here," she gasped, pulling him into the empty apartment and locking the door behind them. "Nobody will find us in here. I'll bet we could screw for a month before anybody missed us!"
Perish the thought, he mused inwardly.
But being behind a locked door with any homy female--even Madge Clayton--had something to be said for it. And all kinds of lusty ideas began to pop into his head like little pitchforks from hell.
"Wanta suck me?" he asked huskily.
Her eyes glittered at him. "Don't worry your big balls about that, honey. I'm going to do plenty to you before the next hour is up. But I think I'd prefer to watch you get hot and bothered first on your own."
"What the hell does that mean?"
"I want you to share my little hobby with me."
He was almost afraid to ask. But he did.
"Come on," she whispered, her voice edged with a dark and salacious tone, "I'll show you!"
She led him into a bedroom of the empty apartment, and then into a large walk-in closet.
"Look, Madge," he began helplessly.
"Shut up, you big ox," she hissed. "Just trust me!"
He watched as she pulled back a mass of clothes hangers and fumbled with a little block of wood on the back wall of the closet.
Suddenly a pinpoint of bright light streamed into the dark closet.
"What is that," he ventured, "a peephole?"
"You're damned right it is, sweetie. And wait until you see what's going to go on in the next apartment!"
He bent over in front of her and put his eye to the hole. He got a very interesting view of another bedroom, this one fully furnished with an unmistakable feminine touch. There were pink, fluffy pillows on the bed and some college pennants on the wall.
"Hey," he breathed, his breath scorching up into his throat as he began to sense the possibilities, "that wouldn't happen to be the room of that new girl in the complex, would it? That cute little secretary who... "
"You catch on fast," Madge crooned. "She just moved in last week--and I made sure she was put in this apartment because of this peephole. Want to know why?"
"Yeah."
"I know all about her. She lived in an apartment complex over by the college until she was kicked out about two weeks ago. You can imagine why the little minx was kicked out."
"Maybe--but tell me!"
"She was fucking everything on the campus. A friend of mine told me she was taking on two or three fraternities a week. Knocking them over like dominoes!"
"She's not married?"
Madge's lips curled back in a lascivious smirk. "Would you tie yourself down to one piece of ass if you could have a whole harem?"
"You've got a point."
"Just keep watching," Madge whispered huskily, "that little slut is entertaining three or four college boys right now, and it won't be long before they'll desert her living room and troop back to use the bed. I've watched her every day now for a week!"
Jim grinned, and felt his prick begin to harden in his shorts. If only half of what Madge was telling him was true, he was going to enjoy her little hobby of voyeurism, too.
He bent over and put his eye to the hole again, and as he did so, Madge sneaked the closet door shut so they could be nice and snug in the dreamy darkness. Then she slid one of her hands around to the front of his pants and began to feel for the big cock she knew was there.
As her fingers pressed and squeezed for his cock, it got stiffer and longer until the head of it was pushing up like a fist against his fly.
Madge deftly unzipped his pants and loosened his belt. He stood with his legs spraddled apart while she worked his pants and shorts down to his feet. Then he lifted one leg after another while she dragged his clothes over his shoes.
When he was naked from the waist down, she began to feel of his hairy legs. She ran just the tips of her fingers over his calves and thighs and then up between his legs until she was feeling of his balls. As she weighed them greedily in the palms of her hands they began to get heavy and swollen, and his ever-ready prick rose until it was at stiff attention in the darkness.
She didn't fondle his cock at once, but went back to teasing his legs and firm buttocks with her fingertips. She seemed to be getting particularly turned on by his male ass, and in only seconds he could feel her long, lascivious tongue licking and kissing his butt.
Jesus, he thought, what a perverted tramp I've got here!
But he was damned if even one syllable of discouragement was going to come from him. If she wanted to run her tongue up his asshole, he'd let her.
Suddenly her mouth was nuzzling his ear. "Stand back as far as you can and bend over! You can still see through the hole that way!"
He did it, just to please her.
With his buttocks sticking out and his legs apart, his ass was a perfect target for her lewd tongue. Immediately she got on her haunches behind him and used her fingertips to pull the cheeks of his ass wider apart.
He could hear her sniffing up and down his big asshole.
A moment later he could feel her viscid tongue worming its way into the tight bud of his anus. All he could do was grin and bear it.
She probed his stink-hole until she had her tongue into him to the roots. Then while she sucked and licked, she began to play with his balls again. She used both hands to massage them while his prick grew as thick and hard as a club.
It was just at that interesting point that something stirred in the room beyond the peephole.
His lust-drenched eyes could barely take in the sight that was suddenly presented to him.
The young secretary, nude as a pear, was coming into the room with two college boys who were as naked as she was. Both of the young guys had hard-ons, and both of them were studs. They were obviously coming back to the bedroom to fuck her, and it made Jim wonder what the hell they had been doing all this time out in the living room.
The secretary was even more than she had seemed to promise the few times he had seen her. She was like a movie starlet in her medium-length fall wig. Her tits were not large, but they seemed as firm as grapefruits topped with big raspberries--and the swollen tips were gleaming wetly as if both of the guys might have been sucking on them.
Jim's eyes gloated on her from his concealed perch in the closet. He was barely aware that Madge had shifted her lapping tongue from his asshole to his balls and that she was busy licking them all over. His attention was riveted to what the trio in the bedroom were about to do.
He watched as the girl slid into the middle of the bed and lifted her slender, smallish legs up into an inviting arch. With the side view he had of her, only a bit of her pussy hair showed at the lower crease of her hips, but he could imagine how hot and gaping her cunt was looking from the viewpoint of the two grinning young studs standing on either side of the bed.
Both of the males were stroking their already violently erect organs, and she seemed to be looking from one prick to the other to decide which one she wanted to service her first.
She chose the guy who had a slight edge in size over the other one.
The lucky one grinned and made a small joke to his pal, and then he climbed on the bed and positioned himself between the beautiful girl's opened legs.
Jim watched with his own cock about to burst with thumping hotness as the young college hero directed the ridged glans of his stiff tool between the succulent lips of the girl's cunt.
The secretary raised her hips hungrily to invite a deep penetration. The view was then perfect for Jim's heated brain. He could see the pouting mounds of her pussy in profile, how they were fringed with soft ringlets and how the lips of her cunt seemed to open like a mouth as the big cock nosed into it.
He watched with tingling nuts as the ridges of her slit rolled back to take the tubular hardness of the boy's oversized penis. Inch by inch, slow and teasing, he fed his long rod up her hole until his own pubic hair was meshed against hers and his balls were hanging down snug between her legs.
The guy was supporting his lean, long body with his arms so that his hands were dug deep into the mattress on either side of her shoulders. No part of his body was touching her except his prick--which was buried to the nuts in her hot slit.
Then he began to fuck her, moving up and down like an athlete doing push-ups in slow motion.
If Madge Clayton had been able to see through walls, she couldn't have chosen a better time than then to swing her lathered mouth around and start sucking Jim's throbbing prick.
He was hot as hell now. Watching a cute and spicy pussy get fucked while somebody sucked his own prick was almost better than doing the screwing himself.
The plowing prick of the college stud was turning the secretary on. She bounced and jerked her thighs in a lascivious and contrapuntal rhythm to savor the full effect of having her vagina expanded to capacity. The expression on her flushed and lusting face clearly revealed that the big prick was getting very deep into her and rubbing like a dog's paw against her womb.
Her fucker was getting homier and hotter, too. His hard buttocks rose and fell as the sucking noises of his peter oiling in and out of her buttery hole filled the room like an obscenely orchestrated sonata.
"Yeah," Jim whispered under his breath as he pumped his own stiff tool in and out of Madge's willing throat, "fuck the shit out of her, buddy! Screw that little slut to death!"
After five minutes or so of such lusty fucking, the girl arched her thighs up flat against the moving abdomen of the male. The muscles in her buttocks worked in a series of tensing actions as she sighed and moaned in the deep ecstasy of an orgasm.
Jim watched with his eyeballs popping as the secretary spasmed three or four times while the oversexed guy above her kept up the steady, powerful fucking.
Jim could see the juices spritzing hotly out of her cunt and dripping over the guy's slapping balls.
Jim wanted to come himself, but he had one of those perpetual hard-ons, thanks to the delicious and depraved way Madge was gently tongue-stroking his boldly elongated penis. So he just let her keep eating it while he watched to see what would happen next in the bedroom.
What happened was that the first stud pulled his still stiff and swollen prick out of the secretary's greedily clasping cunt and let the second stud take over.
It was obvious that the two were going to make a real marathon of screwing her slit.
The second stud was more than ready to get a little of her hot nookey. He climbed on her thighs like a bulldog in heat and had his throbbing tool into her in nothing flat.
He wasn't a slow fucker. Instead, he started banging away at her foaming cunt like a rabbit. The change of pace turned her on again, and as her pussy warmed to getting machine gunned with his boyish prod, she wrapped her legs around the small of his back and pumped back at him.
To add a little variety to what might have been a conventional screw, the first guy walked arrogantly around to the side of the bed and offered her his cunt-soaked prick to suck on.
It was apparently something she had done dozens of times before because she came up to the head of his cock with her mouth ovaled and her tongue lapping.
Lord, Jim thought, grinning and fucking Madge's mouth in time to the way the secretary was sucking and screwing, I want to get in on a little of that babe's free ass myself!
He watched the double fun the young wanton was having until the stud she was blowing had all he could take. The guy pulled his purple-headed prick out of her mouth and shot his wad over her lips.
Jim groaned softly as he saw the healthy spurts of come hit the lovely girl's mouth and chin. He watched her lick at it with her pointed tongue the same way a kid tries to lick candy off his chin. When the long prick finally stopped firing, the boy brought it back to her mouth and let her clean the head of it with her grinning lips.
In the meantime, she was still getting powerfully fucked by the second Casanova who was pistoning his loins above her pussy like a Trojan.
The scene was too damned much for Jim.
He had to fuck something himself.
He pulled Madge up by her armpits, making his stiff tool come plopping out of her mouth like a cork pulled from a champagne bottle. It was only when he pushed her up against the wall of the closet that he realized the brazen bitch had somehow worked out of her clothes.
She was as naked as a whore, and mad to get fucked.
He was going to have a helluva time screwing her cunt without sounding like a bull in a broom closet, but he couldn't wait to drag her out into the bedroom. His engorged prick was taking over both his willpower and his common sense.
Not that Madge Clayton cared.
"Ram it into me!" she hissed at him, her breath like a gust of hot furnace air in his face. "Fuck me standing up!!"
With a hoarse sob, he dug both his hands into her thin shanks and pulled her hairy cunt over his iron-hard cock. The wide lips of her heated slit found his prickhead like a dog finds a juicy bone, and as she threw both her legs around his buttocks his rod drove all the way up between her bony thighs.
In the darkness, she was like any other female. Only the whiskery-thick hair around her pussy and the hard ridges of her pelvis reminded him that he was fucking one of the ugliest broads in captivity.
But homy is homy.
With his cock up her cunt to the balls, he began to bang away at her, filling his burning brain with the deliciously lewd sounds of his prick slurping in and out of her.
Madge had been wanting to be fucked like this for so long that her pussy was dripping tears of pure joy. He could feel her liquids flooding over his balls, and that only heated him up more.
As the compulsive thrills of lust soared through Madge's grateful cunt, she wrapped her arms around his back and dug her fingernails deep into his flesh. With that grip she pumped her buttocks back at him like a tree monkey.
He was fucking her so hard now that his knees were banging against the wall of the closet. But he couldn't stop. His prick was like a pole stuck up her cunt, and he was getting the head of it far up into it with every stroke.
He thought he would be able to fuck her forever, but the second she threw her head back and spasmed his own wellsprings of passion erupted like a volcano.
They came together, her juices pouring over the swollen column of his penis at the same time his balls were firing off double loads of come up her hole.
He held on to her, panting, as the last of his joy juice dribbled out of her gloating cunt. As for her, she was trembling and moaning like a worn-out mare.
When he finally looked through the hole again he got quite a shock.
Both of the studs were sitting on the bed facing the wall with the peephole. Both of them were grinning, and the secretary was between them on her knees, going from one stiffly standing prick to the next, licking those big dongs like candy bars.
Then, as Jim was still watching, the girl shifted so that her beautiful white buttocks were pointed right straight at him. He could see the deep, smooth crease of her asshole and the little patch of sperm-soaked pussy hair.
He was looking at that when the girl suddenly stopped lapping on the two pricks and turned to stare at him.
Then she grinned and gave him the finger.
He snapped his eye back from the hole.
"She knows we're here!" he whispered huskily into Madge's flushed and satisfied face.
His eyes had become accustomed to the darkness of the closet, and he could see the leering grin on the older woman's face.
"So tell her to write her congressman!" Madge purred, wrapping both her hands once more around his half-swollen dick and sinking down on her knees to suck it hard all over again.
He wouldn't have thought it possible, but in no time at all his cock was pushing up stiffly against the back of her throat. He liked it fine, but he had already made up his mind about another matter.
The next girl to suck his rod was going to be wearing a medium-length fall wig.
CHAPTER TEN
Lon Carter clasped his hands in a professional pose above his desk and looked out at the three young housewives gathered in a semi-circle in front of him. He knew them all quite well. He should have. He had fucked each and every one of them, and in the case of Peg Sawyer--well, he had more than done yeoman duty to her needs.
One of the other females was Mrs. Joy Baker. She was the youngest of the three, barely nineteen, and her husband of only two weeks was now about as far away from her as it is possible for a male to get. He was in Viet Nam, and Joy had come to Lon with the age-old problem of a barely broken-in wife. Since her young husband had shipped out, she had found she couldn't sleep at night. Cunt-itch at its very worst--or best.
The third woman was Mrs. Ellen Cassidy. Her problem was of an entirely different nature. She had recently caught her husband shamelessly screwing her own sister--a fourteen-year-old Lolita type who was temporarily living with them. The traumatic experience had made Ellen's sex drive freeze up like a drain pipe in the Arctic. She had been unable to bring herself to tell her husband that she had been spying on his incestuous infidelity, and to make matters worse she had learned that her sister was not only making her husband, she had a string of willing husbands strung out all over the neighborhood they lived in. The little slut was fucking everything in sight, including the good-looking teen-ager who delivered their groceries twice a week. Yes, Ellen had even caught her younger sister sucking that young devil's penis while he leaned back against the kitchen door with a cigarette dangling from one comer of his slack, grinning mouth.
"Ladies," Lon said, looking from one to the other with that special kind of comfort only a doctor-who-understands can give, "you know why you are here--and although each of you has a slightly different problem, all of your collective problems stem from one single, simple root. Your sexual frustrations. As you know from the other sensitivity sessions you have attended, that root problem is more easily solved than you might guess. Or might have guessed when you started coming to me."
Lon paused, and gave each of them a reassuring smile. "You, Mrs. Baker, have one of the most common problems that a young bride can experience in wartime. The problem of not having a husband in bed with you at night to calm your nerves. When you came to me, you were edgy and near hysterics. May I take a bit of pride in pointing out to the other ladies that now you seem as collected as a Mother Superior?"
Joy Baker smiled back at him, and a tiny pinkness colored the youthful firmness of her cheeks.
"And you, Mrs. Cassidy," Lon continued, his voice modulated to a purring tone, "you still have a few wrinkles to be ironed out. The wretched condition which we psychiatrists call the Hypothymia Syndrome--that inability to make proper emotional responses. In your case, the condition is caused by your shock at seeing your own husband enjoying the sexual charms of your sister. Actually, you should not be shocked by that. A mature male is, after all, a sexual animal--and when raw, free meat is placed before any animal his natural impulse is to take it. Your husband and your sister both enjoy fucking each other, and I'm more than sure that with a little liberalizing on your part some delightful form of troilism could be worked at by which the three of you could enjoy sex simultaneously. Part of the session today is designed just for the express purpose of acquainting you with the delicious novelty of that kind of activity."
Lon glanced next to Peg. He could almost smell her sensuality from where he was sitting, and despite his attempt to remain on a professional level, he couldn't fight back the mad little twitch of lust which jerked at his prick. After all, Norma had confessed to him how Mrs. Sawyer had so brazenly insisted on fucking the young black stud named Willy. And how Peg had seemed to foam at the mouth when riding that monster of a penis. Here was a female born to fuck a man--and among the many other things which Lon considered himself, he was also a man.
"And you, Mrs. Sawyer. At the risk of making your cheeks blush because of the nagging hangups you still carry from your past, let's put the cards on the table. You have both of the problems I've just discussed concerning the other ladies. Not only does your married pussy ache and long constantly for a man's organ, you have a faint but persistent guilt-pattern about having sex with more than one man. Of course, to be fair we should mention your third little problem. You've come to admire and literally crave very large organs. Men who are hung between the legs like Arabian stallions. I understand your own husband is at the head of any lineup of males in that category, but you are only now coming to appreciate him in that sense."
The three women didn't dare look at each other, but none of them anticipated making the slightest kind of rebuttal to the truthful things which Dr. Carter had been shooting out at them. Everything he said was perfectly true.
"Now," Lon said gently, "I will tell you about today's sensitivity session. Technically, it is called the Transmutational Awareness method of sexual therapy--but I prefer to give it a simpler label. I will call it Any Number Can Play. Three gentlemen who are also my patients have volunteered to play the game with you. And I can assure you there will be no mere adventurers among them. They are all respectable and quite, quite married. However, their wives are not here today, and so you can feel perfectly free in insisting they perform the same kind of erotic tasks they would feel free to perform for their wives in the sanctity of their own bedrooms. I have selected these three males very carefully--to satisfy the several whims and preferences of the three of you. One is very young, Mrs. Baker. He's only twenty, in fact--the same age as your husband. The second male is a man who came to me for treatment after he caught his wife wantonly fucking a neighbor boy of sixteen years. He is almost cured, Mrs. Cassidy, and I thought you would like to join forces with a man who knows something about your recent crisis. As for you, Mrs. Sawyer, the third male was deliberately picked to inspire you to a champion style of sexual abandon. His penis is nine inches in the soft state, and his charming wife sent him to me because of his incredible staying powers in bed. Some might call his condition satyriasis, since he seems to be in a constant and ready state to erect that huge cock of his and service any female in sight. But I prefer to think of him merely a man with a precious and unique talent. " The three listened to Lon with the color flooding to their faces. They were experiencing everything from trembling uncertainty to anticipatory lust.
"Shall we go into the game room?" Lon said quietly.
When they followed him into the inner office--the same place where Willy had fucked Peg and Norma--they saw that a long, narrow bed had been pushed up against one wall.
"If you will please take off your clothes and arrange yourselves in a row on that bed," Lon said crisply, "I will tell you what the nature of this session is going to be. Of course, I will provide only the initial exercise for the six of you--and after that you'll be on your own."
As the three of them dutifully stripped themselves of every garment, Lon continued his explanation.
"I want you to line up on the edge of the bed so your legs can be drawn up and braced under your buttocks. You may lean your backs against the wall for better support--which you are sure to need. With your legs drawn up so your left knee touches the right knee of the person beside you, your vaginas will thus be equally exposed and equally available to what I have in mind for the three males to do."
"Just what do you have in mind, Doctor?" Ellen Cassidy asked nervously.
Lon smiled. "It is an idea I read about in a book on the brothels of Old Mexico. It has the quaint name of the Jumping Bean Bang. All it means is that--well, trust me, ladies! I assure you it will be one of the most erotically stimulating experiences of your lives!"
When they were naked and arranged on the bed, Lon studied them the same way an artist might study an arrangement of fruit he is going to paint. It was a much more interesting sight than a bowl of fruit. Each cunt was different, and yet all the same. Just slits with hair tufting the deep, hidden creases of their sex. Young Joy Baker had the most enticing pussy, to Lon's way of thinking--as soft looking as warm pudding with willowy sprigs of parsley at the lips. Mrs. Cassidy's ample cunt had a mane of dark hair which grew almost up to her navel, but in the middle of that enchanting thatch he could see the scarlet ribbon of her vulva, waiting to be thawed out. As for Peg's all-too-familiar gash, it looked as fuckable as ever and he intended to stay right there to watch the three hand-picked studs fuck her into a grinning clown of lust.
"I'll get your playmates," he said smiling.
They waited several interminable seconds until Lon returned with the three husbands he had kept stashed away in a smaller room down the hall.
They were still dressed in ties and coats, and so while they tore out of their clothes the females had a chance to study them. They were helped along by Lon, who was acting as a kind of master of ceremonies to the bizarre proceedings.
"The gentleman on your left is Tim Purdy. He's twenty years old and barely out of junior college, but married to a very beautiful girl who was a cheerleader when Tim played football. The next strapping male is Jack Riley. When Jack drops his shorts--ah, there you are--you can see what I meant by Jack's prize-winning anatomy. But don't be alarmed by the size of him. His wife tells me he's gentle as a ram!" With an amused grin, Lon went on: "The last fellow is Paul Matson, and you're lucky to have such a handsome devil here today. Paul was brought up by a homosexual uncle who used to perform fellatio on him night and day--I can tell you from my experience with the tastes of gay folks, that it's no wonder. But Paul managed to survive that upbringing with his libido in good condition, and his wife's silly interest in sixteen-year-old boys probably stems from the fact that Paul himself is very youthful and handsome and boyish in the way he performs intercourse."
With the introductions over, the males were now standing in a line and looking over the three bare pussies in front of them with growing interest. Their interest was not the only thing growing, however. As the full impact of what was being offered to them by the good doctor sank in, their pricks began to rise up from their balls in rapid fashion.
Peg couldn't take her eyes off the gigantic cock that Jack Riley was pushing out of the hairy thatch of his loins. The thing looked like a blunt instrument, and the glans resembled a flared and swollen toadstool.
"Ready for the Mexican Jumping Bean Bang?" Lon laughed.
The males nodded like a row of robots, and the three females felt their cunts filling with tingling anticipation.
Lon had already instructed the men in private just how the lascivious game was to work, and they advanced on the waiting slits without hesitation.
To Peg's disappointment, she saw that the youngest of the three males--twenty-year-old Tim Purdy--was advancing on her. His healthy, stone-hard prick was so stiff that it was bent in a funny little arc so she could see the underside of his penis and the ridge of muscle that ran all the way down to his balls.
Tim came between Peg's spread legs just as Jack Riley moved his huge prick between the lucky legs of young Joy Baker, and as the handsome young Paul Matson nudged his gorged tool between the open thighs of Mrs. Cassidy.
Peg sucked in her breath as the stony column of Tim's cock parted the moistened lips of her cunt and bore up her vagina. She could feel the grainy corridors of her pussy opening like a warm throat to receive him, to swallow every inch he had to offer. He stopped only when his firm balls were pushed against the crack of her ass.
Ellen Cassidy had thrown her matronly head back with a gasp of frightened anguish as Paul Matson grinningly thrust his long cock deep into the hairy thatch of her sex. Out of the comer of their eyes, the two other females found themselves watching in fascination at the spectacle of a very handsome young married man ramming his buttocks forward to get his horny tool into the older woman's slit. It was a sight that would have made any woman except the frigid Mrs. Cassidy turn wanton in a second.
As for Joy Baker, she had the real prize in the huge penis of Jack Riley. As the large head of his cock touched the soft and velvety lips of the young female's pussy, his penis seemed to jerk and swell until it was even larger than before, and as it inched lewdly into the honeyed depths of her hole the veins along the fat column turned rigid as pencils.
Each of the three females expected to be fucked immediately by the stiff organs buried up their cunts to the balls.
But they were in for a unique surprise.
"Pull out!" Lon shrilled suddenly.
Without giving the three pussies a single stroke, each of the males slowly pulled their stiff cocks from the clasping cunts.
Peg made a grunting noise of protest, since she had found young Tim Purdy's prick much more to her liking than she had expected. But it was Joy Baker who protested the most. With her husbandless cunt already itching with greed, she was hardly prepared to let Jack Riley pull that oversized peter out of her sucking vent.
But out came Jack's prick, as did Paul Matson's from Mrs. Cassidy's protesting pussy.
"Jump, you jumping beans!" Lon rasped harshly.
With that mad command ringing in the air, the three males suddenly hopped around each other so they could bury their heated cocks in fresh cunts.
Peg felt her wanton heart thumping when the enormous club of meat belonging to Jack Riley was suddenly tunneling up her grateful twat. She closed her eyes and enjoyed to the tips of her toes the colossus that quickly expanded every inch of her vagina as it rode right up to the mouth of her womb.
God, she thought, I could get fucked all night with his beautiful big prick!
Paul was into Joy Baker, and Tim's young charger was encased to the testicles in Mrs. Cassidy's warming slot.
"Jump, you beans!" Lon yelped.
Once again the process was repeated, and now the groans from the tantalized and frustrated females filled the room like a chorus of lusty whores.
Pricks came out of gluttonous cunts with loud slurps, only to move to another slack-lipped, eager pussy.
When every cunt had been treated to four or five of these teasing experiments, Lon held up a stop watch and allowed the males to fuck the slits of their choice for one full minute.
There was a general scramble to get three pricks into the delicious hotness of pretty Joy Baker's slit--but Jack Riley won out by roughly pushing the two younger men aside. His swollen tool was thrust deep into Joy's willing pussy, and as he rode her with nut-slapping fury she lifted her nipple-swollen tits out and rolled her head with grinding lust.
Tim Purdy took Peg as his second choice, and as he fucked her he leaned down and sucked hungrily at her coned breasts. His mouth was like a vacuum cleaner as he pulled her rigid nipples deep into his throat and roiled them with his tongue.
Mrs. Cassidy was getting powerfully fucked by the handsome Paul Matson who was into her so tight that her black bush of cunt hair was spread out against his loins like a mop.
"Time's UP!" Lon bellowed, snapping his stop watch down and grinning like a boy at a ball game as the three studs once again extracted their dripping, furiously erect organs from the unsatisfied cunts.
Peg was going mad with passion by now. She had to be fucked--long and hard and savagely. And she wanted Jack Riley to do it to her.
"Switch partners!" Lon boomed. "And this time you can fuck for five minutes!"
This time Jack Riley gallantly surrendered Joy Baker's foaming cunt to Tim Purdy. Tim's lusty young eyes gleamed as he rammed his homy cock solidly up the lovely girl's spicy slit and began to fuck her in a way that only the very young male could. The expression on Joy's face told everybody who cared to look that she felt as if she once again had her husband home from Viet Nam--and that it was his prick that was servicing her to ecstasy.
To Peg's blazing rage, Jack Riley ignored her scarlet gash and moved over to fuck Mrs. Cassidy. That frigid old bitch's eyes bugged out as Jack ruthlessly homed his nine whopping inches into her. She was too up-tight for him to get it all the way in on the first few thrusts, and the thick column of his cock looked exactly like an arm half-buried into her hairy maw. But on the next two tries he got his prick all the way up her, and after that she seemed to relinquish her pussy to his salacious talent for fucking.
Peg's stud turned out to be the good-looking Paul Matson, and when he drove his penis between her legs she realized that it was not only long, but thick.
"Fuck me hard!" she wheezed at him, pulling his boyish, grinning face down to her own so that she could suck his tongue into her mouth while he screwed.
The orgy was now in full swing, and not even Mrs. Cassidy was complaining. In fact, all of her forgotten powers of sexual need were coming back to her as Jack Riley's hulking penis sawed in and out of her grasping cunt.
From Lon's advantageous viewpoint, the session was one huge success.
He watched with his own prick straining against his pants as the three males and the three females were lost in a whirlpool of lubricious lust.
It was a sight to make his professional heart glad. There was Peg Sawyer, fucking back at the handsome stranger between her legs as if she had been born to fuck.
And pretty Joy Baker, that girl who had suffered such long and lonely nights of frustration before coming to him. How she seemed to be enjoying pretending that young Tim Purdy was a stiff-pricked imitation of her own husband.
And Mrs. Cassidy--his final triumph.
How the frozen depths of her loins had been easily thawed by a few carelessly inserted cocks--and how the most salacious fires of her carnal nature were once again burning bright to entertain that horsy penis that was gladly fucking her to an orgasm.
Lon settled back into one of the deep, leather chairs in a corner of the room and lit a cigarette. Contentedly blowing smoke through his nostrils, he continued watching the rising and falling of male buttocks between the spraddled legs of the spasming females.
He could see juices trickling down the legs of both Peg and Joy. And soon, he was sure, Mrs. Cassidy would open the wells of her cunt and anoint Jack's probing monster with quarts of flowing honey.
He grinned slyly at the thought of making Ellen Cassidy's cunt himself in the future. It was that wild muttonchop of hair covering her pussy that intrigued him most, he supposed.
"How nice," he whispered, feeling his penis grow as firm as steel in his pants, "how nice that would be!"
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Jim could hardly wait for the following Wednesday afternoon. By some crazy fluke, his day off was the same as the young secretary he had watched get fucked by the two college boys.
And he wanted some of that lively cunt in the very worst way.
He at least knew her name now. She was Kerry McLean, and she was from California. For the first three kooky nights after finding out her name, Jim had dreamed about her. He always saw her coming up naked out of the sunny surf on a beautiful beach, the California sun tipping the points of her firm young tits like molten gold. And always he was waiting on the beach for her, equally nude. More than once in his erotic dreams he had fucked her silly--doing it in glorious technicolor with a sound track consisting of her grateful moaning and his passionately slurping and sucking prick.
And always he woke up from such fantasies with his cock as hard as steel, and sticking up between his legs like a tent pole.
Yes, he needed to screw that hot bitch's cunt.
Fortunately, it was Vona Dawson who provided him the idea for making the proverbial assault.
He had gone with her to a motel on Monday night of that same week. And that experience in itself had turned out to be a rather wild bit of sexual depravity. It seemed that on her way to the motel, Vona had picked up a young hippie hitchhiker.
As Vona explained it later, she was three sheets in the wind on her husband's best Scotch or she would never have burned half the rubber off her tires trying to stop to pick up the psychedelic stud. But she did, and he got into the car with his rucksack, his combat boots, his long hair, and his gorgeously long eighteen-year-old prick.
When Jim reached the motel, he found the door locked. It was only when he pounded a dozen times and called out Vona's name that she unlatched the door and let him in.
Obviously, Vona had been busily fucking the young hippie for some time. At any rate, he was naked and spread-eagled on the motel bed, his fully erect penis gleaming with her juices. As for Vona, she was buck nude under the thin gown she had slapped on to answer the door--and the nipples of her tits were out like horns.
When Jim saw the situation, he had offered to bow out. But that was the last thing in the world Vona wanted. Getting the opportunity to have her body pawed and screwed by two young males was just the kind of thing she craved.
"Climb out of your duds and join us!" she rasped, reaching down between Jim's legs and feeling of his lax organ. "That's Donnie on the bed--and I've been grooving on that big love-stick of his!"
Jim glanced at the slightly freaked-out young hippie who had nothing on but a string of love beads, and the arrogant stud grinned and winked at him.
Jim certainly didn't object to screwing Vona under any circumstances, so in seconds he had piled out of his clothes and the three of them were wallowing on the bed like sex maniacs.
The boy stayed on the bottom for the most part, with Vona on top of him and fucking hard.
That left her surprisingly firm asshole for Jim. He spit on the head of his dick and worked it brutally into her anus. It was hard going, and a little painful to Vona at first, but after he got his cock over half-way into her ass she got turned on.
"Fuck me!" she hissed through gritted teeth as her clasping cunt worked on the hippie's cock. "Screw hell out of my butt, honey-Jim!!"
He did exactly that. By the time he was making himself come he was getting his long prick up her rectum to the balls--dog-fucking her to death.
With two big tools in her at the same time, Vona was creaming as madly as a whore. Her cunt poured hot nectar down over the smooth nuts of the hippie while the lips of her pussy held on to the root of his cock like a vise.
The orgy ended by Vona making Jim and the hippie stand side by side at the edge of the bed while she sucked both their pricks until they had another orgasm. In both instances, she got her hungry throat blasted full of thick, healthy sperm.
Then Vona gave the hippie twenty dollars, patted him on his boyish ass, and sent him off to roam the world again.
"Vona, you're some goddamn slut," Jim grinned when the hippie had gone, "but you've got a heart of gold."
Vona smiled back at him. "Sometimes when I'm a teensy-bit drunk, I get some drooling whim to make it with young guys. I mean really young guys. Did I ever tell you about the time Henry and I camped out in Colorado right next to the World Boy Scout Jamboree?"
Jim chuckled. "No, but I'll bet you helped a few of those scouts win merit badges--in fucking!"
"Damn right I did. I remember this one kid from Yugoslavia or some crazy place like that. He couldn't speak a word of English, but honey he had a prick between his adolescent legs that would have made a mare whinny! He came by every afternoon the second Henry had gone fishing, and we went up a mountain trail and fucked like rabbits."
"Sounds very romantic. But I know what you mean about getting hung up on young stuff. I'm hung up myself on Kerry McLean."
"Who?"
And so he told her the story of Madge Clayton shoving him into a dark closet so he could watch the young secretary get her kicks.
Vona listened with eyes glittering, and her lips turned up in a slack, interested grin.
"Those college boys," she breathed raggedly, "do you think they might like something a little more mature in a pussy? Say me, for example?"
"If I remember my days in college, Vona, I'd have fucked my grandmother if she had winked at me."
"Hot diggity!"
"But that secretary might be something else again. I don't know how to get to her--other than busting down her door with a log."
Vona grinned. "You leave that to me, sweetie. You're going to get a phone call next Wednesday afternoon, so make sure that young wife of yours isn't around to intercept it."
"Don't worry about that. Peg never stays around on my day off. She'd rather go sniff around that faggot shrink."
And so, on Wednesday afternoon while he was nervously smoking his way through a pack of cigarettes, the phone rang.
"Hello?"
"Mr. Sawyer--Jim Sawyer?"
"Yes?"
"This is Kerry McLean, down on the second floor. Would you like to come down for a drink?"
"Would I?"
He didn't know how Vona had done it--and he didn't give a damn. All he could think of as he raced to the second floor was how hot and sweet that young pussy was going to feel.
He knocked on her door like a storm trooper.
When she let him in, he got the first in a series of lusty surprises.
Kerry McLean was stark naked, like a walking Playboy fold-out.
He stumbled into the room as she locked the door behind him, and then he turned and drank in the sight of her luscious body. The tits with their cherry-red, firm nipples that seemed pulled upward by invisible wires. The multitudinous curves of her honeyed body, all seeming to lead to the exciting apex of her thighs. The cunt itself, a long, deep, narrow crease between full and pouting cunt lips that were teasingly fringed with baby-soft hair.
His prick got as stiff as a lug wrench in his pants.
Kerry didn't seem at all embarrassed about being naked in front of him. In fact, she walked across the room to make him a drink exactly the way she might have if she had been dressed to the hilt.
He watched the tight moons of her buttocks joggle and bounce as she walked.
"I'm sure you're wondering why I called," she breathed, betraying her own excitement by the smallest flush of coral along her cheeks, "and so I'll tell you. I had a very odd visit the other night from a very interesting lady. Your friend, Vona Dawson. She told me all about you--without mentioning the fact that you lived right above me--and the more she talked, the more interested I became. You see, I've grown a little bored with college boys. I mean, they're all right--but a girl needs a man now and then. Know what I mean?"
"Did you and Vona make some kind of deal?" he managed huskily.
She grinned and brought him a drink held in front of her wriggling young titties.
"You might say hard bargains are Vona Dawson's specialty. Yes, we made a deal. I promised to line up five or six college boys for her for a little motel party, and she gave me your name and number in exchange."
"Good old Vona!"
Kerry nodded. "I only hope I'm having half the fun she is when I'm her age."
With that, the young secretary's eyes wandered admiringly over Jim's body. She seemed to like very much what she saw, but he knew the proof would be in the pudding. She would have to judge him naked. She'd have to see his prick and feel it before he got any blue ribbons.
"Shall I undress?" he asked.
"Do. And I thought we might do something I always do with the boys from the college--something that seems to stir them up before we go back to the bedroom."
He had been wondering what that might be, he remembered.
"I hope you like home movies," she purred softly, walking toward a screen and projector he hadn't had time to notice, set up at the far end of the room.
"You mean dirty movies?" he asked hopefully.
She gave him a warm look from over her ivory shoulder. "You catch on fast, hero," she hummed.
While he hopped out of his clothes, she got the projector threaded and made sure the screen wasn't placed too high in front of it. Then she went around pulling all the shades so nobody--like Madge Clayton--would have a grandstand seat for what might take place before the royal fucking session in the back bedroom.
When she was finished, she came gliding smoothly back over to Jim. He was stripped down to his shorts now, and he would have taken them off--but he thought it might be fun for her to help him.
She was glad to.
He trembled as her long-nailed fingers slipped into the tops of his shorts and tugged them gently down over his hips.
His cock had been swelling very slowly and stubbornly since he entered the room, and when she pulled the shorts down over its straining length it flopped up into a horizontal column of solid meat.
Her dimpled mouth turned into an awed grin at the sight of his manly prod.
"Vona wasn't lying one little bit," she breathed, keeping her eyes on the big organ as she helped him step out of his underwear. Then she came back up and touched the glans with a little cupping of her fingertips. She played a gentle squeezing game with the spongy, dry head of his prick until it was a ridged and tingling helmet of pink flesh.
"Baby, let me fuck you with that thing," he husked, keeping his eyes on the way the nipples of her tits swelled out as his maleness excited her.
"I'll bet I can make you come so good you'll never look at another college bastard!"
She grinned up at him, her eyes almost smoky with lust.
"Don't worry, Jim. I intend for you to give me so much juicy fucking this afternoon that I won't need a man again for a week--and that's saying something for me. But first, I want to tease you with a movie. I don't know about you, but I get so hot watching a good smut-flick that I could screw a company of marines."
His prick throbbed in her fingers. "That sounds good," he agreed. "I'd like to see you that hot."
He loved the honest lustiness of her. She was one helluva liberated female, he decided, and it was going to be more fun to fuck her than to dance a jig in heaven.
"Sit on the sofa, Jim," she purred, gingerly pulling him by his stiff penis toward the pillow-strewn sofa in front of the movie screen. "I'll start the projector, then join you."
He sat down in the middle of the sofa and spread his legs apart. His cock was standing up out of the thick tuft of his pubic hair like a pink-tipped handlebar. He couldn't wait for her to get back to it and tease it with her fingers, and maybe lick and suck on it as a foreplay to fucking.
She was standing in profile by the projector, and he got a blinding look at her lithe, naked body. From a side view he could see the protruding, already stimulated lips of her hair-fuzzed pussy. And the view of her tits was so rousing to his male appetites that he was barely able to stifle a groan of lust. The big rosettes padding the base of her nipples were swollen and thick, and the nipples themselves were sticking out like smooth coral bullets.
She switched off the lights so the living room was in half-shadows, then flicked on the projector and came seductively back to the sofa.
He pulled her into his arms and lowered his head to one of her tits. She moaned a little as his roughly searching tongue began to lap the fullness of her erect, perfumed nipple. He could feel it growing more firm in his mouth.
"Don't you want to--watch--the--movie--?" she whispered raggedly, enjoying what he was doing to her heating tit so much that she could barely get the words out.
He made a grunting, negative sound that told her he would rather suck her tits while she watched. He had the real thing in his arms, so why did he want to watch a lot of celluloid figures get their jollies on a flat screen.
As the pornographic film began, she snuggled closer to him, purring like a big kitten as he moved from one of her throbbing nipples to the other, sucking so hard that his cheeks were indenting. He wasn't letting his hands remain idle, either. He had them moving all over her smooth, velvety body. He felt the rounded perfection of her buttocks and her tummy, and he slipped one hand down between her legs and felt how hot and moist the parted lips of her lovely cunt had grown.
He kept one hand between her legs and slowly inserted one of his fingers deep up into the eagerly parting ridges of her cunt. He could feel the warm, inner lips of her slit and the deeper he explored with his finger, the more slippery her pussy became--and the stiffer his prick grew.
"God, you're wonderful!" she whispered into his ear, licking at his jaw with her pointed tongue.
'I'm going to enjoy letting you fuck me! I'm going to come gallons with you!"
His male ego towered sharply as she whispered the guttural language of lust into his ears. He knew he was turning her on--and he intended to tease that spicy cunt of hers until she'd be willing to lick his balls to get what she wanted.
Just the thought of such a voluptuous creature down on her hands and knees sucking his prick made his heart pound rapidly.
"Suck on my tits," she hissed, digging her fingernails deep into his biceps. "Chew them, Jim! Eat me!"
It was a very good idea, he thought.
His mouth came off one of her tits with a lewd, wet plop, and he pulled one of her shapely legs up over his shoulder as he slid down to put his head between her legs.
The salacious move made her moan in deeper, huskier tones. "You'll kill me with pleasure, darling!" she breathed. She tensed all over as his tongue found the sappy hotness of her cunt lips. And when his tongue drove savagely into the very center of her slit, she arched her back and clasped the nape of his neck with her hands.
"Yes! Eat my cunt! Fuck me with your tongue! Suck! Suck!!"
He buried his jaws so far up between her legs that her cunt hair covered his chin like a little mossy beard.
He had never tasted a pussy as good as this one. He ate her with a blind and horny greed. The root of his tongue seemed to turn into steel as he lapped in circles at the grainy wetness of her cunt walls. He could smell her female heat rising in his nostrils and that made him more animal than ever.
If he could have, he would have stuck his tongue all the way up to her womb.
While he sucked hungrily at her smoking slit, he reached up with both hands and fondled her bloated tits. The nipples were wet with his saliva, and he rolled them between his thumbs until they were as solid as little hot sausages.
For the next few minutes, he did nothing but eat her cunt. But when the throbbing of her vaginal muscles told him that she was near an orgasm, he cynically pulled his mouth away from her maddened pussy.
"Don't stop!" she begged, trying to push his head back down between her legs.
But he didn't want her to come. Not yet. He wanted her to hold back all that hot honey so that he could fuck it out of her. He wanted to feel her juices flooding over his big prick, not over his chin.
He came back up into a sitting position, and to his delight she made a dive between his legs.
Her mouth was like a hot cunt, as it sucked around the head of his penis. She went down on him to the balls, then came back up the rigid column of his meat with her tongue doing acrobatic flips. She settled again on the flared glans of his cock and nibbled and sucked at it until a billion little trills of raw lust were eating at his reserve. He didn't want to come this way, but much more of that whorish blowing and he knew he'd blow the top of her head off with his blasting sperm.
And then, for the first time, he glanced at the dirty movie.
What he saw on the screen made his eyes blink in disbelief. Disbelief that turned quickly to shocked dismay.
A woman was getting fucked in the movie--and getting it not from one guy, but from three. One of them was screwing her gaping cunt, another was straddled over her and fucking her mouth, and another was cornholing her with a prick that looked like a table leg.
But that wasn't what shocked him.
The capper was that the female looked exactly like his wife. Exactly like Peg.
He sat up with a jerk--so quickly that his stiff cock came popping out of Kerry's lusting mouth. She dove for it again, but found it beginning to wilt.
She licked and sucked with every fellating talent she had, but the more she tried to keep the big penis aroused the more it seemed to be sagging into softness.
She came up with her eyes blazing with frustration.
"What's wrong, honey?" she wheezed.
He was still staring at the screen, his mouth open in a perfect picture of incredulity.
"That looks like my wife!" he blurted.
Kerry glanced with irritation at the flickering screen where the bodies were still pumping and writhing.
"Don't be stupid!" she snapped. "That picture is from France. That's a goddamn whore up there--some slut from Paris--and those guys fucking her are three stud sailors from Marseilles!"
"But it looks like my Peg!" he groaned, leaning forward to watch more closely as the female in the film seemed to be turning into a monster of passionate lust.
"Well, what the hell if it does?" Kerry boomed. "You don't want to fuck her, obviously. You want to fuck me!"
But it was equally obvious that he didn't--or couldn't. She knew that when she reached down to grasp his penis and found her fingers squeezing thin air.
Jim's prick had gone as soft as dough, and it was lying like a dead snake across the upper part of his leg.
"Well, I'll be damned!" Kerry rasped, pushing away from him and jumping up from the sofa.
She stood above him, her wet young cunt dripping but unsatisfied.
"You know what you need, you Indian-giving sonofabitch?" she slurred scornfully. "You need a good shrink!!"
He wanted to deny the truth of what she was yelling at him--but the proof of it was now nodding softly over his sexless balls.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Peg could feel her trusty Bartholin glands betraying the excitement she was experiencing as Lon Carter opened the latest sensitivity session.
It was a bright Saturday afternoon, and outside the world was full of the greenness of life, the throb of nature's passion. Somehow that same kind of hunger had crept on teasing fingers into the very depths of Peg's loins--helped along considerably by what Lon was telling her and the other two females about today's session.
"I'm calling this one Animal Masks," he announced calmly. "This particular variation of the old-fashioned psychodrama, has all the advantages of the most ancient kind of orgy-oriented sex games. It takes its curious masking technique from the ancient Greeks, but it owes its sensual nature to those impassioned devil-dances and black masses of the medieval world. In those days women often thought they had been fucked by the devil--or by his handsome servants. And far from hating the experience, they tried desperately to repeat it. They would go into the middle of dark woods and dance with peasant males who were dressed up in grotesque masks--and at the end of those lewd charades, the peasant studs would fuck them with savage abandon. And quite often, one female would find herself servicing the boiling lusts of a dozen males. I should add here that the males were always very carefully picked for the size of their organs--and the women seemed to worship that prick which was the longest and biggest, and the one that could stay hard all evening."
The descriptive narration was the thing that was making Peg's sex glands secrete juice shamelessly. If what Lon was saying was true, it made her wish she had lived in those far-away times. She could just imagine how much fun it must have been to give up your naked and panting body to the brutal and lusting cocks of ignorant farmers and their sons.
"In the next room, ladies, you will find this medieval world reproduced in an abstract way. I can assure you that my wife Norma and I worked long and hard last evening putting up bushes and potted trees to make the illusion of a wooded glade as complete as possible. You will enter this charming world as naked as Eve when she went lusting after the phallic serpent. But instead of snakes, you will find five very well endowed young males--all my patients, and all in interesting disguises. In previous sessions, you have been fucked by males with faces. Today you are going to have your spicy pussies fed by males behind masks."
The idea made a thrill of lust run through Peg's blood, and she could feel the lips of her cunt beginning to stretch apart.
She glanced around at the other two females, and was glad to see that their slack grins revealed the same kind of enthusiasm she was feeling.
"All right, ladies, you may undress now," Lon said.
As they were taking off their clothes, Lon nudged Peg to one side.
"I've debated a long time about saying anything to you, Peg, but I think I've reached the right professional opinion concerning the matter."
She blinked at him. "About what matter?"
Lon grinned. "One of those males in the next room is your husband."
"Jim?"
"Yes. He came to me about three days ago with a potency problem, and... "
"You must have the wrong Jim!" Peg blurted. "Hardly, my dear. He told me all about his hang-ups with you. Said he hadn't realized how much he loved you--and how jealous he was of you--until he saw somebody who reminded him of you in a stag film."
"God, Lon, you haven't taken any pictures while we... "
"Of course not. He didn't see you, he just thought he did. Simple case of transference. He still thinks of you as the pure little bride he took on a honeymoon."
"And you've set me up for an orgy while he watches'?"
Lon sighed. "I told you, I thought it was best that he see you in your real light. I suggest you go in there and act like a wanton. It's my theory that when he sees you screwing your head off with three or four different men, he'll snap out of his trauma and... "
"Which one will he be?" Peg demanded.
Lon smiled at her. "No, I think it better that you not know. Just go in there and win one for the old gipper!"
Before Peg could reply to that, she found herself being herded into the other room with her two naked companions.
The blazing lust that had been teasing her vagina only minutes before now seemed to be retreating inside of her, disappearing like a scarlet sail on the horizon of her libido.
God, she thought, I can't let Jim see me acting like a whore! And to hell with Lon's fancy theories!!
She was certainly alone, however, in her sudden lack of enthusiasm for the naughty experiment in sexual freedom. The other two females entered the room with a whoop of joy and started their determined safari through the artificial plants and palms which Norma and Lon had tastefully arranged in the half-dark office.
The males weren't at all hard to find.
One popped out from behind an artificial tree right in the path of one of the startled females. He was wearing nothing but a large Donald Duck's head. The rest of his body was starkly naked--except for one very interesting item attached to the swollen head of his prick.
The attachment looked like a big prickly pear.
It was only after Peg had stared for a few dumfounded moments at the weird, rubbery gadget decorating the glans of the big penis that she realized what it was.
A tickler! she thought.
"My Lord," she gasped softly, "you mean they want to use those things on us!"
The question was rather rhetorical. Not only did the man with the Donald Duck head intend to fuck the female he had trapped, he was already well on his way to doing so.
It was both erotic and grotesque to see the half-duck-half-man push the giggling and naked woman to the floor and use his knees to hold her legs apart while he tried to shove the tickler-equipped cock into her lush cunt.
Even while Peg and the other woman were gaping at the wild sight, two more males appeared behind them. They turned just in time to emit squeals of both surprise and terror at the sight of the masked marvels.
One was wearing a big horse-head with staring eyes, and the tickler stuck on his boldly erect penis looked like a horizontally pointing Christmas tree! The rubber branches and rubber pine cones at the end of the branches had been fiendishly designed to turn a pussy into an itching inferno.
The second man was a black, wearing the paper-mache head of a black sheep. His ebony, handsome body glinted in the half-light and his huge dark prick was tipped with what looked like a rubber glove with eight fingers.
Peg felt herself going as weak as water.
She couldn't let Jim see her getting fucked by a black man, and yet the memory of Willy Smith's jumbo cock sent strumming trills of lust through her loins.
The two men came toward them with stiff pricks wagging. The female with Peg wasn't quick enough, and the male wearing the horse-head grabbed her by the buttocks and pulled her over into a clump of phony bushes.
The black man was after Peg.
With a yipping shriek of fear, Peg darted off into the shadowy undergrowth in the center of the room. With her tits bouncing like balloons she ran smack into a fourth hooded male.
He was wearing a big Mickey Mouse mask over his head--and a smaller one with huge rubber ears on his cock.
He grabbed Peg's shoulders and was just reaching for a handful of her tits when she kicked him savagely on the shins.
With a piercing yelp of pain, the Mickey Mouse male let go of her, and she darted away from him.
She knew that there was only one left--and that one just had to be Jim.
Should I let Jim catch me and fuck me? she wondered.
While she was still trying to make up her mind, she saw him creeping through a flutter of artificial weeping willow branches. It was Jim all right. She'd have known that big, stone-stiff prick of her husband's anywhere--even if he hadn't been wearing something on the head of his cock that looked like a spiked dog collar.
His mask was that of a grinning pirate with a long knife between his teeth--and the novel idea of making Jim fuck her in such a costume sent a sudden and spasming thrill through Peg's pussy.
She parted the few willow branches in front of her so he would feel free to lead the charge--but the strong black hands that grabbed her from behind put a quick end to that noble plot.
"NO!!" she screamed.
She might as well have been yelling at a stone wall.
The black stud pulled her down into the soft thatch of fake grass and pinned her arms back over her head.
"Please!" she gasped, fighting back like a gypsy in the arms of a Turk. "Let me go, damn it! LET ME GO!!"
The big black sheep mask bobbed above her as she felt the eight-fingered rubber tickler rolling back the lips of her defenseless cunt.
The immense black peter rode up into the walls of her vagina with the tickler feeling the way, and the harder she struggled the deeper the hellish prick tunneled.
In seconds, the man was fucking her with ball slapping strokes while he held both her wrists pinned to the floor with his strong hands.
She twisted and bucked and yelped--but her cunt was getting savagely fucked just the same.
It took a few minutes for it to happen, but when the rubbery extensions of the tickler really went to work on the sappy hotness of her slit she felt a sharp and lusty pleasure filling her loins.
She stopped struggling and just lay there letting him pump his swarthy buttocks up and down like a stallion.
It was beginning to feel very good to Peg.
Now she didn't care if Jim did see her. It was too late to care about anything but getting that insatiable pussy of hers satisfied.
With a wanton's greed she worked her legs up over the pistoning buttocks of the sex-crazed black man and began fucking back at him with powerful thrusts of her cunt.
She was aware that they had an audience--aware that Jim was now standing alongside of them in his silly pirate's mask--but she was too lost in lust to bother about him.
She only hoped that when the black stud shot her hole full of his delicious sperm that Jim would hop on and fuck her some more.
She managed to get both her hands free at last, and instead of pushing the screwing black ape away from her she dug her fingers into his shoulders and urged him to fuck her faster.
Her cunt was like a ring of fire, and with every deep ramming jolt of his horny prick a spray of her hottest juices flooded his balls.
"Fuck me!" she hissed. "FUCK THE LIVING SHIT OUT OF ME!!"
The black buck was doing his best to do just that, and she could feel the column of his stone-stiff cock bulging against the grateful walls of her cunt.
She didn't know how long they fucked, but just as she was slipping into a coma of spasming joy she felt his prick blasting the tickler loose with uncontrollable spurts of come.
She curled her toes above his waist as he poured one blast of thick hot sperm after another into the recesses of her pussy. She was coming, too, and her thinner liquids poured back at him, spasm for spasm.
When it was over, the black stud lay panting above her. The big black sheep eyes seemed to be staring at her with a glazed, dumb fascination.
It was only when he pulled his swollen tool from her slick and sucking cunt lips that she gave a weak gasp of shocked disbelief.
The black man's prick was white!
She knew the truth even before he pulled off the sheep's head mask.
"Jim!" she stammered, flushing with both shame and joy.
He was grinning down at her, and the lusty flicker in his fucked-out eyes told her that he was not only proud of the way she had tried to fight him off--but that he had enjoyed putting it to his own wife exactly the way he would have put it to a whore.
He pulled her gently to her feet and let one of his hands stroke the perky, firmed nipples of her tits.
"Had enough sensitivity sessions?" he rasped, still grinning.
She leaned with both her palms flat into the firm strength of his chest, rubbing at the sweaty cork that covered his body so she could see the whiteness of the flesh she had learned to love all over again in that moment of madness on the floor.
"You damned rogue," she breathed softly.
But he knew by the way her hands were sliding down over his painted stomach toward his horsy and rejuvenated tool that she didn't want him any other way.
Both of them were very definitely cured--of their silly sensitivities.
