BEE-6675A LAWFULLY WEDDED NYMPH by Don K Hotey

CHAPTER ONE

I couldn't believe it -- I was having my first affair!

It had begun so simply, so unexpectedly, that the sheer driving energy of events had scooped me up, and carried me along with it as if I were a mere pawn, with no control over my own destiny. I had been in a bar, having an innocent drink, waiting for a train to take me home, when all of a sudden, without knowing exactly how, for the first time in my life, I had gotten picked up by a tall, blonde-haired man.

And now I was alone with this strange man, a man I've known for less than an hour, and I was in his room with him: a twenty-eight year old woman, married eight years, and this handsome man I knew only as Adam was kissing me on the lips. And what was even stranger, even more disconcerting, was that I was kissing him back.

We were standing in the doorway of his room. Adam had just closed the door behind him, and the lights in the room weren't even switched on yet. Adam turned, took me in his arms, and pressed me back against the door. I let him, sliding my arms up his broad back, and I eagerly crushed his tall, hard body against my softness. His legs were pressed against my crotch, and I parted my thighs, pushing myself even harder against him.

"Oh, Jesus, Sally," he moaned feverishly. "My God, my God!"

His tongue snaked into my mouth in a hard, wet kiss, and I parted my lips to suck his tongue deeply into my mouth. I could taste the lingering flavor of whisky on his breath, and it mingled subtilely, erotically, with the warm, slippery moisture of his saliva. His lips were thick and soft, and he rolled them gently against my lips, plunging his spongy tongue in and out of my mouth, exploring the wet cavern of my lips and tongue with an urgency that betrayed bis excitement. I sucked hard on his tongue, almost as if I was trying to swallow it down my throat.

My head was spinning, partially from the two drinks I'd had in the bar, but mostly from the heady realization that for the first time in my married life, I was making love to a man who was not my husband. The very suddenness of it, the complete absence of premeditation was enough to make my head feel as if it was floating three feet above my shoulders. It had begun so guiltlessly: Adam offered to buy me a drink. Then he asked me back to his table, a booth at the rear of the bar. I went with him, and before I knew it, he was sitting next to me, with his hands in my lap and his fingers under my skirt. A moment or two later, his zipper was opened, and I was fondling his erect cock under the protection of the table. He hadn't even kissed me or suggested what he was about to do. He simply dropped his hands to my thighs, massaged my cunt through my dress, then slipped his hand up my skirt. I didn't stop him, nor did I want to. My excitement was so profound, so shattering, that there was no way I could have stopped him. It seemed fated.

Now we were in his room, and Adam was kissing me. My train, the train that would have taken me home to Peter, my husband, the train that I had been waiting for when first I went into that bar, had long since gone.

I was standing on my toes, stretching up, and I kissed Adam with my wet, pressing mouth. I slid my tongue over the lump of his thrusting tongue, and pushed it back into his mouth. I ran the tip of my tongue frantically around his lips, over his teeth, then I plunged deeply into his mouth. I felt h'ke moaning, but there was no space to -- our lips were sealed together, one atop the other, fixed with our burning, mutual passion. His body crushed me into the door, flattening me under his pressing weight, and I could feel every ridge, every indentation of the door as it cut into my back.

I parted my legs even more widely, and Adam pushed his thighs between them. His cock was still erect, or erect again, and I could feel it laying against the mound of my cunt. Even through the many layers of our clothing, the long, hard heat of his cock baked down into my cunt. My clit was throbbing and my panties were wet. The crotch-piece was sticking to my damp flesh h'ke a second skin. I pushed back against Adam, and pressed my wet cunt against the thickness of his humping cock.

Adam broke the kiss off. "Oh, God, Sally," he whispered. He stabbed his tongue into my ear and swabbed it wetly until he sent shivers of burning pleasure down into my body. "Oh, my God. I want you so bad. From the moment I saw you, Sally, I wanted to have you. It's crazy."

My breasts were aching; my nipples felt as if they were going to explode. My bra was like silken sandpaper against my tender flesh, and each time my swollen nipples brushed against it, I trembled with another sudden swell of sexual excitement.

"I want you, too, Adam," I whispered back. My eyes were closed, and I could feel sweat running down my back and down the insides of my thighs. "I want you, too."

And I did. I wanted Adam more than anything I've ever wanted in my life. He was a stranger to me, a man I've never seen before, and probably, after tonight, a man I would never see again. Yet that seemed to make it all the more exciting: two strangers, attracted like animals, desperately fucking away in the middle of the night.

What a way to be initiated into extramarital sex, I thought. Not that I haven't wanted other men since Peter and I married, for I have, and I've even had the opportunity to go to bed with some of those men. But I never did take that final step that would set it all in motion. Perhaps I had too much time to think about it. Thinking about it gave me cold feet.

But this, with Adam, had been different. It had been spontaneous. It had happened so quickly, I hadn't even had time enough to think of an excuse to give Peter as to why I would be so late in getting home tonight.

Adam slid his hand up the front of my body and cupped one breast through my dress. I moaned at the contact, and I felt my body going limp. His fingers squeezed into my burning flesh, and a rush of white-hot pleasure radiated down into my groin. Automatically, I tilted my hips up, and pressed my cunt even more tightly against the throbbing hardness of his cock.

"I have to lay down," I said. My nipples seemed to be swelling with so much pleasure that they were beginning to ache. My flesh was so aroused, so sensitive, that my clothing was abrasive and irritating, the way it feels when you have a fever, and your body is burning up.

"Please," I said again. "I feel weak."

Adam covered over my objections with his lips, and my protest was swallowed into the heat of his mouth. His tongue slid wetly between my lips, and I found myself drinking down his saliva as if it were alcohol. My head began to spin again.

Suddenly Adam shifted his body, and he slid his hand, and then arm, under my knees. His other arm tightened around my shoulder, and he lifted me quickly. Our lips were still locked together in a passionate loss, and he carried me across the darkened room, literally sweeping me off my feet. The grip of his hand on my legs pressed my thighs together, and my cunt felt swollen and thick between them. The whole crotchpiece of my panties was so wet, I thought for a moment that I had peed in my pants.

Adam carried me to a sofa, then placed me down with such ease that I felt like a puppet in his hands. His mouth was still pressed against my lips, and our tongues were dueling wetly in the slippery space between. It felt good to have something solid under me, and I leaned back against the supporting cushions of the sofa. I wrapped my arms around Adam's neck and pressed our mouths so tightly together that I tasted blood mixed in with the saliva.

As he was kissing me, Adam was leaning forward, holding onto the sofa for support, and he climbed onto the cushions, next to me. He was on his hands and knees, kissing my mouth, kneeling next to me. His hand had returned to my breast, and he squeezed into it with his hard, clutching fingers. I kissed back at him, then opened my thighs, and humped my wet cunt against the sticky silk of my panties, wishing in frustration that his cock was back between my legs, as it had been when we were standing.

Adam's fingers worked expertly on my breast: he squeezed it in and out, then pressed his palm flat against the swollen orb, and pushed down. He kneaded it, and caressed it, teased it, and pinched the nipple through the material, arousing it until I felt as if I was going to scream from the excitement. Then, just at that point, he moved his hand away from my breast, and I did cry out, in dissappointment, even though I knew where he was going.

His hand came up to my neck, and he began to nimbly work his fingers on the buttons of my dress. I was wearing a blue and green dress that had large white buttons that ran down the front. He attacked the buttons quickly, and after a moment, the dress was parted to my waist. The material fell open, and my breasts, still encased in my covering bra, jumped out like frightened animals.

I sighed audibly as his hand went up to my bra. He caressed one breast with a sudden, quick squeeze, then slipped his hand up to my shoulder, and drew the bra strap down. He tugged at the twin cloth cups until they slowly unpeeled from my tits. My naked breasts popped out, and Adam pushed the discarded bra down to my waist.

His hand tightened over my breast, and shivers of warm electricity made my body feel as if it had been short-circuited. The nipple of the tit he was playing with was hot and stiff, and I felt the warm film of perspiration on his palm as he closed his fist over the fleshy orb. His fingers tightened into the firm mound, and the nipple grew harder and hotter, swelling like a balloon, ready to pop.

I broke my mouth away from his kiss, my eyes still closed, my thighs parted even wider than before, still humping uselessly against the cool night air, and I said: "Suck them, Adam. Put the nipples in your mouth and suck them. Please?"

Adam slid his open mouth wetly down the length of my neck, licking at my hot flesh with his darting tongue. He moved his mouth over the bone of my chest, then down to the base of my quivering breast I was trembling with anticipation, but he moved slowly, sensually, teasing me with the wet, erotic kisses he was placing all over my nakedness. I could feel his hot breath as it snorted from his nostrils, spreading a thick layer of humid air across the quaking, puckered flesh of my pink-tipped tit. His mouth moved to the nipple, and his tongue stabbed out.

"Yes!" I cried, excited beyond control. I moved my hands to his head and I tangled my fingers in his hair. I pulled his mouth down upon my tit. "Suck it! Suck it! Suck it! Lick it, Adam! Lick my tit!"

His tongue unwinded from his parted lips, and he flicked the stiff nipple with a short, hot slapping caress. I moaned and hunched up, trying to stuff the rest of the tit down his throat. He pulled back, teasing me, touching the explosive nipple only with the tip of his tongue. He used his tongue as an artist might use a paint brush -- dab, slurp, flick -- until my nipple was cokted with his saliva, and it ached with so much pleasure I couldn't think straight.

"Oh, oh, oh," I moaned. I put my hand down between my legs and cupped my own cunt. The heat of my excitement radiated up, even through the thickness of my dress. I nipped the skirt up, and pulled at my pantyhose until it came away from my waist. I slid my hand over the top of my cuntal mound, still outside of my wet panties, and I could hear the soft crushing sound my hand made as it pressed the silky material down against the hair on my cunt. I cupped jthe swollen mound in my hand, squeezing it tightly, and pleasure, like dancing flames, licked hotly up between my legs.

Adam, meanwhile, continued to work deliberately on my tit. He started his tongue at the base of the nipple, and from there he stroked it wetly up. He flattened his tongue against the stiff nub, and flicked upward, vibrating the nipple, until it shuddered with excitement. He continued to roll his tongue over the trembling bud until he was on the other side of the nipple, and then he reversed the slow, tortuous procedure, flitting the nipple back the other way. The slowness, the deliberateness of his strokes was driving me out of my mind with pleasure.

My clitoris felt like a pounding pulse under my curled hand, and I pressed my fingers hard against my cunt to still its erotic throb. My panties were so wet and sticky that I could feel the whole outline of my crotch through the damp material. The lips were opening and closing spasmodically, and the clit was like a small hot pebble between them. Down, underneath the curve of my body, the entrance hole to my cunt was open, like a smotheringly hot mouth, and it was oozing a thick, wet discharge. I pulled the crotch-piece of the panties away from my cunt, and I attacked the naked flesh with my trembling fingers.

"Oh, suck my tits hard!" I cried, fingering the quivering lips of my own cunt with my fingernail. I pulled Adam's face down against my swollen tit with my other hand.

"Suck my tits," I moaned again, "before I go mad!"

Like a drawstring on a closing purse, Adam's lips came down and tightened around the trembling nipple. His lips were hot and wet, and the contact was so intense I pushed my finger up into my cunt without hardly realizing that I was doing it. He sucked the nipple up into the pool of wetness that was his mouth, drawing the bud to its full length, pressing hard into it with his lips, and then he began to lick the top of the nipple with the flat part of his tongue. I groaned with excitement, and I thrust my cunt up against my whole hand, burying my probing finger in the wet tunnel of my cunthole.

"Oh, God -- yes!" I moaned. I thrashed my head from side to side on the back cushion of the sofa: my long blonde hair spilled out like dirty sunlight in the shadows. "Do it to mer Adam. Do it to me!"

I pulled the finger from my cunthole. The finger was all wet and slimy with the juices of my excitement. I slid the sopping finger up to the edge of my cunt, parting the damp hair, and opening the sticky-wet labia. The pounding throb of my clitoris jumped under my finger, and I pressed it down, back into the excited, swollen flesh of my hairy cunt. The wash of pleasure it produced made my knees go weak, and my legs slid straight out in front of me, my thighs parted, and my pantyhose slid down to my knees. I began to twirl the bud of my clitoris with the familiar expertise that comes to any person who has ever masturbated. The pleasure began to mount in critical leaps and jumps, and I felt myself brimming with orgasm.

Adam slurped the one nipple until it dripped with his saliva; then he turned his attention to the other tit. His mouth closed over it, and he licked it wetly, sucking it up, beating it with his tongue, and suddenly, unbelievably, I began to come.

The orgasm began at the tip of my spine, curved around my crotch, and stabbed into my cunthole like some thick, invisible cock. My cunt clutched tightly in a spasm of ecstasy, and I continued to roll the exploding bud of my clit, round and round and round, as wave after wave of pleasure broke wetly against my cunt.

"I'm coming, Adam!" I cried. "I'm coming!"

My words excited him, and he removed his tongue and lips from my breast. He sat back on his haunches, away from me, and watched in fascination as I administered pleasure to myself. The sight must have stimulated him, for he dropped his hand to his zipper, and he pulled out his long, thick cock. He jerked the organ up and down several times as he watched me rolling my clitoris, and I thought he was going to masturbate himself to orgasm.

But he didn't; instead, with his free hand, Adam began to work intently on the rest of the buttons on my dress. A moment passed, and my dress was completely open.

I looked down at my body, my eyes dimmed by the trembling orgasm that still assailed my flesh. My bra was still clasped closed, but it was twisted around and pulled insideout as it went around my waist. My shallow white hand was inside my panties, still moving. I could hear the wet, slippery sounds my hand was making as I parted the folds of my cunt with the rolling pressure of my finger. My pantyhose was at half-mast, like a boundary line stretched across the middle of my widely-spread thighs.

After the dress was open, my pantyhose was the next thing Adam grabbed for. He tugged at them until he pulled them over the bump of my knees; then he dragged them down the rest of my legs. He slid off the sofa, with his cock stiff and erect and pulled from his gray trousers, and he climbed down between my open legs. I felt his hot hands running up and down my legs, moving from the sweaty inner softness between my thighs, over my knees, down my calves, until he was touching my feet. He pulled my shoes off, then pulled the bunched-up pantyhose down over my feet, discarding them in the darkness behind him.

The next thing Adam reached for was my panties. He hooked his fingers in the waistband, and he tugged them down. I had to lift my ass for him to get the flimsy white panties past the cushion of the sofa. The movement of the silky material was cool and erotic, like the chilled night air kissing at my nakedness. I could see my own naked cunt in the dim light as I looked down. My hand was buried against my crotch and the blonde-splash of pubic hairs covered my belly like a thick yellow rug. My thighs were pale white, spread in a wide V, and my panties were a receding slip of softness trailing down the long distance of my legs.

Adam slipped the panties off, then leaned forward and put his mouth between my legs. My orgasm was just ebbing when his tongue opened the lips of my cunt, parting it with the same ease that a hot knife cuts into soft butter, and he began to lick at my clitoris. Immediately, the bud forgot its momentary exhaustion, and it began to build again towards a new orgasm, as if the one that was just over had never happened.

Going crazy with passion. I began to moan.

"Eat me!" I cried. I squeezed my breasts as I watched Adam's head disappear between my thighs. I screamed obscenities because it seemed like the thing to do; because my mood was so wild, so raunchy, so erotic, so sexy that it seemed the only thing I could do.

"Eat me, Adam!" I encouraged. "Eat my cunt! Eat my pussy! Lick my clit with your tongue!"

His hands came up, under my ass, holding my cheeks, and I lifted my feet from the floor. I flopped my legs over his shoulders, spreading my thighs even wider, and I pushed my cunt up into his mouth. His fingers dug into my flesh with the grip of a vise, pinching into my asscheeks like dull teeth, I rolled my hips down and around and up, in a tight, narrow circle, bringing my cunt up against his mouth each time the circle closed.

I could hear his tongue eating me. I could hear his mouth parting the moist labia, opening my body, as he stroked through the clinging pubic hair. I could hear the seeping wetness of my dying orgasm as it oozed against the slickness of his licking tongue, the sensual splash as he spread saliva all over my cunt. I could hear him lapping up, drinking up my creamy discharge, dancing his tongue incessantly against my burning flesh.

I ran my hands down from my tits, raking my fingernails across my belly until I was holding Adam's head between my palms. I tangled my hands in his hair, and I pulled his open mouth against my cunt with all my strength. My arms ached, but my cunt was so on fire that it was not to be denied. I lifted my legs straight out, curling my hips up, and I wrapped my thighs around his neck, locking his mouth against my cunt.

Adam's tongue started at my clit: he beat it with several quick slaps, knocking it sensually from side to side. Then he slid the wedge of his tongue down, between the parted, hairy lips, until he was licking at my cunthole. He circled his tongue around and around, licking at the pink puckered mouth of the hole, teasing it with the spongy hardness of his tongue. My cunthole clutched for the tip of his tongue, spasming closed like a gripping mouth, seeking to trap his elusive, flitting hardness inside of me.

My legs were pointed straight up in the air, one on either side of Adam's bobbing head, and I pulled him tighter, closer to my hunching body. I drove my cunt into his face with a desperate energy, and he dove down into the wet folds of my body with bis hot, spear-like tongue, matching my excitement with his own. I groaned in pleasure and wiggled my ass, like a bug impaled on the end of a pin, and screwed my cunt up and down the length of his driving tongue.

"Give me your cock," I moaned. Impossibly, I felt myself building again towards another orgasm, and it frightened me with its unexpected strangeness. In my whole life, I have never been able to have more than one orgasm at a time, and then, not always that. But now, my body and my mind seemed to have gone berserk, and passion and pleasure was driving me to do things I could have never imagined myself to do, even in my wildest fantasies.

"Give me your cock, Adam," I pleaded. My cunt was aching with the pleasure of his tongue; a pleasure that I wanted to return. "Please! Please, Adam. I want to suck your cock."

Adam lifted his mouth away from my hairy snatch. The bottom part of his face was slimy with wetness: a dull, oily glaze that dripped from his lips and was spread all across my crotch and parted thighs.

"Come down on the floor," Adam said. He held his mouth against my cunt and, as he spoke, I could feel his lips working against my shuddering crotch, driving the words up into my body like tiny vibrations. "Lay down on the floor, Sally, and we'll sixty-nine."

The idea excited me, and I suddenly longed to taste Adam's cock between the wetness of my lips. Before this moment, the only cock I have ever sucked was my husband's, and even then I've never enjoyed it especially. But I was obsessed with doing it now -- I ached with the desire to suck Adam's cock, to slide my tongue over his soft, knobby cockhead, to plunge my face up and down the length of his pulsing organ and to swallow him fully into my mouth. I needed to suck his cock!

I oozed off the sofa, sliding bonelessly down the cushions until I was lying on the floor. There was a rug under me, and the bristling nap tickled against my burning flesh. I shucked my dress off as I moved down, and all that remained on me was the twisted, discarded bra, still clasped around my stomach. I decided to leave the bra where it was -- as a symbol of tonight's depravity.

I was on my back, with my legs parted, knees up, and Adam stood above me. I watched with a detached, numbing sense of excitement as he stripped his clothing off. First his jacket, then his shirt and tie. His cock jutted from his open zipper like an obscene silhouette, and I couldn't keep my eyes away from it. He opened his belt, and then the top-clasp on the pants. They parted and fell down. He stepped out of them, then quickly slid his shorts down his muscular, hairy legs. He stood naked above me, and I trembled in anticipation.

His balls seemed so heavy and full, I thought, and I listened to myself in mild shock as I prayed that they would be. I wanted to suck him dry: I wanted to taste his sperm, swallow it, have it gush down my throat until it oozed greedily from my puffed-out cheeks -- until I could drink no more without bursting my insides!

Adam came down upon me, straddling my head with his knees, bending his body over me, and he returned his lips to the curve of my cunt. I reached desperately up for his cock and took it in both hands. I guided it tremblingly to my lips. I opened my mouth as wide as I could, and at the very moment his tongue touched my clitoris, I plunged my parted lips down the length of his cock, and I swallowed him.

His flesh was hot in my mouth. It had a sweaty, salty taste that I found exciting. I could smell the raunchy, sexual man-like odor of his balls. I washed my tongue across the enormous head of his cock, stabbing the tip of my tongue into the moist slit that cut across the top of the organ. I rolled my tongue around and around, darting it under, against the underside of the cockhead, licking the trembling shaft of his organ. My lips and jaw ached from being stretched so widely, but I disregarded the pain, and I plunged my supplicating face, opening my mouth even wider as I felt Adam's cock pushing back against my throat. I almost gagged.

Adam slipped his hands under my ass and lifted my body up from the rug. He rolled his head from side to side, between my V-like legs, slashing my cunt with the stiff thrust of his tongue. Each arc took him across my clitoris, and I moaned around the plug-like thickness of his cock with each fierce, quivering fit of pleasure. He was bringing me as surely to a second orgasm as I had brought myself to that first. It was as if he had stripped my body of all its flesh and he was working on the raw, naked substance of my soul -- attacking the nerve endings directly until I wanted to scream from the gushing torrent of sensation that was filling me.

I took my passion-revenge on his cock. I licked and sucked back at it, wanting almost to punish it for the excruciating pleasure it was giving me. I pushed it as deeply into my mouth as I could without strangling, I felt the swollen head of the organ expanding across the back of my throat, cutting off my breath. I sucked hot air in through my nose to keep from smothering. Stroking it with my tongue, I licked at Adam's cock, and sucked on it as if it were a thick, fleshy straw through which I could suck out his sperm. His balls were on my forehead, hanging like two heavy weights, and they tickled me with the brillo-like scratch of his pubic hairs. My hands were on his ass, and I squeezed into his tensed flesh with my fingernails, raking his body until bloody, red lines criss-crossed his hairy bottom.

I began to come a second time, and I screamed around Adam's cock because I had to release the explosion of sensation somehow, and my cunt simply could not contain it. My body began to shake and my mouth began to groan, and I lifted my legs straight in the air, as if they were rockets, pointing towards the ceiling. I hunched my driving, quivering cunt with all my might, as if I was trying to drive my cunt right through bis face. His tongue, sensing my pleasure, darted down between the pulsing lips, and he shoved it into the canal, fucking me with it. He flit it from side to side, touching every inch of that frantically climbing tunnel, wetting me with his mouth, dripping pleasure into me.

I began to suck with all my might. I wanted Adam's sperm in my mouth. It was something I've never done before, not even for Peter; something that I've always found repugnant and nauseating... until this very moment.

Now, suddenly, nothing could be better, nothing could give me any more pleasure. I wanted to taste it, I wanted to suck it out, I wanted to feel its slimy ooze gush against my tongue and suck down into my throat. I wanted Adam's hot come in my mouth.

But it was not about to happen. Adam wasn't ready to come yet, and I felt myself sobbing with the combined emotions of exploding passion and profound disappointment. I was so overwhelmed with sensations that my brain seemed flooded; I didn't know how to react. One part of me was coming, another was sucking Adam's cock, and still another part of me was aching to have Adam come with me. And it continued on like that: coming and not wanting to come, enjoying it and hating it, mingling ecstasy and despair until it was impossible to tell one from the other. Then the orgasm peaked with a screeching, empty wail, and a profound and bottomless depression closed over my mind like an impenetrable pall.

It was as if the normal post-orgastic depression had somehow been magnified and distorted to absorb not fust my body and my mind, but the room we were in as well. A feeling so hollow, so empty, that it seemed to have become a part of my life -- perhaps even all of my life. I felt close to crying.

This awesome emptiness lasted a split-second, and then it began to change. Adam's tongue continued to slide in and out of my cunthole, washing right through my orgasm, washing away the emptiness, until I felt my body responding once again to the licking, ceaseless pulse of pleasure that Adam had taught me to appreciate. Like a distant flickering, like a dim candlelight in a dark, empty night, my pleasure began to grow again, and I suddenly realized even a third orgasm was not impossible.

I spit Adam's hard, hot, long cock from my mouth. My jaws ached, and my own saliva oozed from the open wound between my lips, bleeding down my chin like blood. I had difficulty in bending my lips around words again -- my mouth felt so empty without die plunging hardness of Adam's cock stretching it wide open.

"Fuck me, Adam!" I moaned. At least I thought I said these words; for all I knew they might have come out as a moan. "Fuck me, Adam. Please! I want you to fuck my cunt until I come again."

Adam climbed off me, and I just lay there on the floor, feeling like a part of the rug. He stood over me, like some mythological giant, with his unreal long cock dripping my saliva back onto my face. His body was coated with a fine, slippery film of perspiration, and it gave his body a primitive and strilcing appearance, as if he were an animal and no longer a man. He bent down, and with his giant's hand, he lifted me like a toy.

My legs were like rubber, and it was Adam's support under my arm that kept me from slithering back down to the floor. The prong-like stab of passion was still tormenting my cunt, raking my clit, and making the long, empty canal inside of me ache for a cock. I reached down with my vagrant hand and caressed Adam's long, thick member. It was wet and hard, and my hand seemed to glide effortlessly up and down the length of the shaft.

"Fuck me, Adam," I said. "Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me! I want to come. I want to come so badly..."

"Inna minute, Sally," he grunted breathlessly. "In a minute, baby. I want to fuck you, too, baby. But it's gotta be special. I don't want you to ever forget this night."

My God, I thought, clinging desperately, with clawlike fingers, to whatever shreds of sanity I still maintained. My God! Did he think I could possibly forget this night? My first affair! Two and possibly three orgasms! How could I ever forget this night? It would stay with me for the rest of my life.

"Fuck me, Adam," I moaned, jerking his cock up and down. I put my hand back on my cunt and, through the fog in my brain, I couldn't believe that it belonged to me. My cunt was so wet, so sloppy, so oozing with saliva and sex juices and all kinds of slippery discharge, that it didn't feel like flesh at all. It was like raw, bloody meat.

"Fuck me, baby," I said, fingering my empty cunt-hole. "I want you to fill me up with your sperm. I want to come again."

"You'll come again, baby," he said, leading me further into the darkened room. "Just stay with me. Ill fill you so full of sperm, you'll need a sponge to sop it up."

He pulled away from my grip, and I felt his cock slide through my fingers. I reached after it, but it was gone, so I buried my empty hand in my cunt, placing it alongside of my other hand. I stuffed two fingers up inside of me, one from each hand, and I pushed them in and out, like a set of alternating pistons.

"Just stay right there, Sally," Adam said. He leaned me against a wall. "I'll be right back."

"Hurry, please. Hurry! I want to fuck so badly I feel like I'm going crazy."

The room was suddenly flooded with light, and I had to close my eyes until they adjusted to the new brightness. And even after I had adjusted, I had to squint to see.

I looked across the room, searching for Adam. He was off to the right somewhere, doing something, but what I saw standing in front of me was even more fascinating. Across the room, directly in front of me there was a full-length mirror. I saw my reflection in it.

I couldn't believe my eyes. I was leaning against a wall, stark naked, with both hands buried in my cunt. My blonde hair was loose and hanging down to my shoulders, like limp strands of seaweed, and my iriakeup was smeared all over my face like a clown's mask. My eyes were no longer blue, or if they were, a bloodshot redness paled them so that they seemed faded in comparison. My body was drenched in sweat, and my breasts, normally large, looked sloppy and heavy, like cow udders.

I couldn't believe it was me that I was looking at. The person in the mirror slooked so sleazy, so raunchy, so obsessed with the basest land of animal pleasure. She looked like the kind of a woman who was willing to do anything just to bring on another orgasm. I couldn't accept that it was me in the reflection. And perhaps it wasn't me. Not me as I've always known myself. If this was me, then it was a new me. Perhaps the real me -- the me that has been hidden for so long that it was a shocking, shattering revelation to come upon the naked truth of my actual personality.

"Fuck me!" the whore in the reflection said. "Please, Adam! I want to fuck... my cunt hurts!"

Adam came back into my line of vision, and he carried with him a straight-backed chair. His cock was stiff and hard, glistening wetly, and it bobbled as he moved, back and forth, like a cork on a choppy sea. His balls swayed from thigh to thigh, pendulously, like the fleshy clapper of some obscene bell.

He put the chair down in front of me, facing the mirror, and he took me by the hand. He led me around to the front of the chair. With the light on, I noticed for the first time that Adam's body was completely tanned. He had a deep, rich brown color that covered his whole body, even his sexual areas. Against his sun-darkened flesh, his white-blond hair seemed so much more striking than I had imagined, especially his pubic hair. It looked bleached.

Adam sat in the chair, facing the mirror, with his legs spread open and extended in front of him. He took me by the hand and pulled me close to him.

"Sit down, Sally," he said. "Sit on my lap. Straddle my lap and take my cock sitting down. It'll go right up your box. Straight up. Deeper than anything you've ever felt in your life. Hurry, Sally. I want to come inside of you. My balls are tight with holding back so long."

My tits were swollen and hard, and the nipples had somehow, miraculously, managed to arouse themselves one more time. My cunt was dripping wet, and my thighs were trembling as I straddled Adam's lap. His cock was standing straight up in the air, like an angry tree trunk, rising up from that blond patch of scraggly cockhairs. The shaft of his organ was incredibly long, perhaps eight inches, and it looked as thick as my wrist. The circumsized head was swollen and purple, with a tiny bubble of clear liquid forming at the slit as an indication of his arousal. Like fine branches, the shaft of his cock was lined with a maze of veins and arteries that made the organ seem to be throbbing hike an elongated, beating heart.

"That's it," Adam cried, guiding me with his hands. "Lower, Sally, lower. Lower that juicy snatch of yours right onto my cock. Tfl ream your pussy out with it."

So that I could maintain my balance, I had both my hands on Adam's shoulders, and the tip of his cock slid through the wet slit of my cunt. Hie moment we made contact, I cried out excitedly, and I tried to lower myself onto the cock, but it was too soon, and the head only grazed my clit. The lips opened and closed like a gasping mouth, and I began to drip my excitement all over the bulb of his cock-head.

"Guide it in, Sally," he urged. "Take it in your hand and put my dick inside of you. Look down as you do it. You can watch it slip between the lips of your box!"

I balanced myself on the flat of my feet and bowed my legs out. I reached down between my legs and took hold of Adam's cock. The flesh burned my hand, and I had difficulty circling it with my fingers it was so thick. I directed the enormous head between the lips of my cunt, parting the blonde-haired folds with my fingers until I could see the wet, dripping pink ring of muscles that sealed-off the entrance to my cunt. I guided the cockhead toward that pursed mouth, wriggling the shaft back and forth as it made contact with my excited flesh, jiggling it until the loose folds of my cuntal lips came down like a moist cowl over the tip of his blunt cock.

Then I squatted.

"Oh, my God!" I screamed, and I watched as Adam's cock entered me. I felt my whole cunt lifting up around the cudgel-like head of his shaft. "Oh, my God! I can feel it going in, Adam! It's pulling me apart. Oh Jesus!"

I watched in pain, excitement and fascination as the top-quarter of Adam's cock disappeared between the lips of my cunt. I couldn't believe my eyes -- it just seemed to vanish inside of me! My cunt looked torn open, as if a vise was pushing the lips apart, stretching them open until they looked swollen and distorted beyond recognition. I leaned further forward, resting my head against his shoulder, and I could see the tight ring of muscles, like a pink band, close tightly around the head of Adam's cock.

I squeezed down and nearly swooned with the intense pleasure. My cunt felt raped! Adam's cock was twice as thick as Peter's, and many, many inches longer. I didn't know which was more intensely exciting -- the pleasure of penetration or the pain.

"Slow, slow," Adam cautioned. "Easy, easy, Sally. Lower yourself easy. Enjoy the feeling as it slides up into you."

I closed my eyes and opened them, sucking hot air deep into my lungs. My cunt was throbbing with pleasure, and my vaginal canal ached to be powerfully filled with Adam's hard cock. My clitoris was like a fiery ember lodged between the widely stretched cuntlips, and my nipples were brittle with pleasure. I began to lower myself on him.

"Oh God!" I moaned. "You're fucking me! Adam, you're fucking me!"

I watched in disbelief as the rest of his cock was gobbled up by the greedy mouth of my cunt. Inch after tortuous inch disappeared into the sucking wide jaws of my cunt, until my crotch was pressed against his belly, and his balls were under my ass. The whole throbbing, expanding, eight-inch length of his cock was in my cunt.

I moved gingerly around, feeling the ponderous heaviness of the organ swaying my dripping interior from side to side, as if my body was no more than a flapping banner on a sturdy flagpole. I tightened my cunt down and squeezed into his cock. My stomach moved forward, wrenching convulsively, and I began the first erotic movements of intercourse.

"Oh, my God!" I groaned. I had to grind my feet against the floor to absorb the pleasure, it was so intense. "Oh, my God, Adam!"

"Easy, Sally," he said, pushing up into me. "Easy, easy, easy..."

I uncurled my toes and flattened my feet on the floor. I returned my hands to Adam's shoulders. I steeled myself for the rush of sensation, and slowly, infinitely slowly, I began to lift my body up the length of his cock.

"Oooo-hhhhh!" I moaned. The pleasure ripped into my cunt with fists of iron. My cunt gripped his hardness in a sudden spasm of pleasure, but I continued to lift myself, watching in stark fascination as Adam's cock, as if by magic, began to reappear. It was all red and slimy and dripping with the wetness of my cunt. The long, emptying channel inside of me felt like a deflating balloon. "Oh, God!"

"Now, down again," Adam instructed, grunting with pleasure. "Up and down, like a merry-go-round."

I felt the distended head of his cock pressed once again near the inner lips of my cunt, close to disengaging, and I plunged downward another time. I moved quickly now, once my cunt had tasted Adam's full length and thickness and had survived, and the searing intensity of penetration repeated itself. Only this time the pleasure was sharper, more acute. I pushed and pushed, until I was all the way down, and the full length of his cock was inside of me, touching me as I've never been touched before in my life.

When I felt his balls tickling at the lips of my cunt, I slid up again, then down, up and down, up and down, until I was plunging like a piston, like a crazy jack-hammer, pounding Adam's cock in and out of my cunt.

"Soon, Sally," Adam cried. "Soon, soon, soon!"

I knew what he meant, and the words excited me beyond belief. Like a madwoman, I quickened my pace, sliding his cock in and out of my cunt until the rhythm was so insistent, so driving, that my body was lifted and carried away with the tempo. I felt myself incredibly building again -- building towards still another orgasm.

My back was straining, and my thighs ached from the rapid lift and drop. Sweat coated my body like a second skin, and kept dripping into my open eyes, burning them until they teared.

I hunched forward and watched, in morbid, riveting fascination. Adam's cock slid in and out: wet and hard, parting the tightly-drawn lips, pumping the clitoris up until it felt as if it was going to pop-off from the building pressure. Then the realization hit me -- I was watching Adam fuck me! I was watching myself getting laid!

Adam began to grunt, and I knew he was close to coming. He put his hands on my ass, holding me in place, and he began to pull me towards him, churning my hips, pushing me up and down the length of his straining cock. His fingers dug into my flesh, and I clawed my toes into the rug for support.

My cunt began to make a squishing, wet sound, like water sucking down a drain.

In and out, in and out, he drove his cock in and out, filling me then emptying me. His fingers rolled and pulled, chugging at me like the piston-arm of a steam engine: down, around, up and down; as if my cunt was nothing but a masturbatory extension of his hands; as if he was using my body to jerk himself off.

"Very soon, Sally," he moaned. His lips were pulled into a grim mask, straining against his gritting teeth, and he said the words with such an effort that I thought he was in pain. His eyes were closed, and sweat mapped his face in a thousand tiny rivers. The cords of his neck stood out like thick rope, and he was sucking in air furiously.

"Get ready!" he cried, shuddering.

I was ready. My cunt was wrapped around his cock like a pair of fists around the end of a baseball bat. I squeezed into him as hard as I could. Tiny drops of sweat began to shake loose from the ends of my cunthairs. The entire length of my cuntal passageway was on fire, and with each plunge of Adam's cock, the fires burned hotter and brighter until the passion between my legs was an inferno, roaring out of control.

"NOW!" Adam screamed. He thrust his hips up hard into me, spreading my cunt and opening my thighs. "I'm coming... now!"

The moment he began to come, Adam leaned forward and pressed his face between my flopping breasts. He began to lick and such my flesh, moving his tongue up and down the valley between my tits. I took one breast and slid it between his lips. He fixed fiis mouth to the end of the nipple and, as he came, he bit down into the sensitive nub of flesh, and caused my body to finally explode with all the fury of a delayed time-bomb.

His cock went off like a geyser: hot, thick, pressurized sperm gushed straight up into my cunt. He was like a volcano erupting molten lava. I could feel his cock trembling, throbbing, vomiting up thick, white-hot gobs of his bubbling sperm. Spitting, spewing, thrusting, pulsing, belching out its burning wetness, Adam filled my cunt with his orgasm.

"Ohgodimcoming!" I screamed, not believing it. "I'm coming I'm coming I'm coming..."

Another string of muffled explosions went off inside my cunt. It began with small, shattering bursts that triggered larger and more powerful ones that set off a whole explosive chain-reaction of multiple orgasms. The pleasure rushed from the top of my cunt and stabbed down into niy body like jagged bolts of lightning, piercing my quaking flesh. I felt something hot and runny coursing down the insides of my thighs, and I couldn't be sure whether it was the torrential gush of sperm from Adam's jetting cock, or the deluge of sensation from my own third orgasm, turning my cunt into a puddle of liquified flesh.

The orgasm was overwhelming in magnitude, and I tried to tighten my cunt around it. I tried to corral it, to contain it, but the clutching squeeze of the gripping cuntal muscles broke the orgasm off inside of me, and it went skewing wildly out of control. Like nails of fire, pleasure raked the whole area of my crotch until I felt as if I was bleeding with pleasure -- until my insides were hollow from coming, and I had to scream for release. "Oh my God! Oh my God...! Oh my God!"

God!

And the orgasm kept on going higher and higher and higher and higher until it passed from pleasure into pain. Then it went higher still, until my mind went blank, and I sjmply stopped experiencing any sensation at all. Like an insane bird racing towards the sun, the orgasm ripped into a blind, bright empty hole in the middle of my brain, and there, there in the glaring white-light of my pleasure, I suddenly saw the frozen truth.

I could never go home again.

CHAPTER TWO

I waited in the shadows, standing off the roadway, building my courage. Every once in a while, a car swept around the curve, and the headlights flashed across my body la a sudden splash of light. Then darkness again.

I shuddered, even though it was a warm night. Sweat coated my back, and made my dress stick to my flesh. For a moment I wished that I had taken tlie time to put the rest of my clothing on. All I was wearing was my dress. But I'd been in a hurry to get out of Adam's room while he was sleeping. I had to get away.

An image flashed in my mind: I remembered how he looked, sleeping contentedly, like some bronzed God, naked under the sheets. And snoring loudly, just as Peter, my husband, snored after sex.

I pushed the memory from my brain. Another car pulled around the curve of the road, and I stepped towards it. Before I got any closer to the highway, the car was past, leaving behind the smelly wake of gasoline fumes in the warm night air. I looked at my wristwatch. It was ten minutes after two. Above, beyond the blinding haze of the highway, I could see one or two stars. They seemed to be winking down at me. Laughing, almost.

I heard the car before I saw its light, and I tensed at the sound. This was foolish, foolish, I thought. I stepped closer to the road, hoping the driver of the car would see me. I felt strangely conspicuous, like an actor on a stage, and I wondered briefly whether I should stick out my thumb or leg to draw his attention.

I did neither, and simply stood there, with my hands at my side, sweating and naked under my thin dress. I'm too old for this, I thought. Too old. The blazing headlights swept around the bend in the roadway and burned across my body. I shrank back despite my intentions, feeling something like an escaping convict making his first prison break. The white light of the car made my flesh look colorless, and drained the life out of the road and grass around me. I couldn't see the car in the bright cloud of light, and I squinted into it, like a blind woman.

The car drove past me, then stopped, pulling its right front wheel off the lip of the road and onto the grass shoulder. I stared at the warm, hulking shadow of the car with a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. I didn't want to go through with it, but I had no choice. I could never go home again, I knew that. Perhaps I had learned nothing else in that shattering moment of orgasm with Adam, but I learned that I could never, never go home again. I walked slowly towards the car. Then I began to run. The right side door swung silently open, like a huge mouth sucking in the night air.

There was a boy in the front seat of the car, the only passenger, and he smiled at me. He looked small and slight, with long blond hair, tee shirt, jeans and work shoes. There was the fine pale stubble of an attempted beard on his face, and it gave his face aa innocent, almost immature qualify, I guessed he could not have been more than twenty or twenty-one years old.

I stood mtrfe in the doorway, holding my naked arms, feeling foolish and frightened. The boy continued to smile at me, but I didn't feel reassured.

"Hello," he said, bending his pleasant smile into his voice. "Can I help you?"

"I... uh... I'd like a ride."

"Sure," he said. There was a lilting Southern music in his voice. "Climb right in."

I hesitated, then did as he suggested. I felt very small in the front seat of the car. And very much alone. I sat huddled over in the corner, away from him. The plastic coolness of the seat under my naked legs made me shudder.

He looked at me and laughted softly. "The door..."

I stared at him as though he were speaking some foreign tongue. "What... Oh! The door."

I reached to pull the side door closed, but he beat me to it. I felt him lean across me, brushing my body lightly, and his fingers closed on mine around the door handle. He pulled the door suddenly, and it slammed shut. The loud sound made me jump. The smell of his body filled the front seat with the light, not unpleasant fragrance of masculine sweat.

The car pulled back onto the road with a silent, unseen surge of power, and I was pressed back into the seat. My head was spinning, and I felt anxiety throbbing in my blood. Yet I knew I had no choice in what I was doing. I could not live with Peter again after I knew... what I knew about myself.

"My name is French," he said, staring out at the road, "French Crandell. What's your name?"

I stared at the darkness of the road. Lights flashed and night swept by us at a frightening pace. I could no longer see the stars. "What?" I said, realizing he had spoken. "My name is French," he repeated. "French Crandell. Since we're gonna be riding together for a while, I just thought I'd ask you ya name. Ya don't hafta tell me."

"No," I said, softly. "That's all right. I don't mind. My name is Sally. Sally Bryant."

"I'm pleased to know ya, Sally," he said. "Where ya headed for?"

I stared at the blank, empty road stretched out before me. Where was it taking me? Where would it lead me? Where?

"I-I don't know," I said. "Really, I don't I just know I have to go... get away. Somewhere. Maybe anywhere. I just don't know."

French was quiet for a while. I could hear the sounds of the night sucking past the dark windows of the car. We cut into the night, like a knife cuts into flesh, and I could hear the cry of the wound bleeding over the rushing car.

"Well, I'm gonna Washington," French finally said. "Dee Cee. You wanna go there? There's gonna be a three-day rock festival, if it comes off. You wanna go there?"

I thought about that for a while. "I've never been to a... rock festival. What's it like?"

"It's pretty good. Lots a good music, good people. Lots a good vibrations. People love each other. People are nice to each other. Sharin', you know what I mean?"

I turned and looked at him. His profile was to me, and his face seemed so clean and new and innocent. His eyes were deep blue and his long fine blond hair fluttered in the breeze of the open window, like soft silk.

"Are people happy there?" I asked.

"Happy?" He repeated the word as if he didn't understand what I was talking about. "Yeah, I guess so. As happy as anywhere else. Maybe happier than most."

I felt relieved, as though some unseen heavy weight had been lifted from my shoulders. "Yes," I said, staring out at the road of the highway. It seemed to stretch out to infinity. Maybe over the next hill, I thought. Maybe over the very next hill!

"Well?" French asked. He turned his head for a split second and looked at me. "Do-ya wanna go?"

"All right. I don't know where else to go."

We drove on through the night, eating into it with long monotonous hours. For a while French put on the radio, thea turned it off after another while. I slept, woke, and then we talked together, about general things. French was a pleasant conversationalist, and I found myself opening to him, confiding in him as I never have in my life. He listened well, and he was a stranger. That helped. That helped a very great deal.

"Sally," French asked, breaking into one of the longer silences. "Kin I ask you somethin'?"

I was feeling relaxed and happy. I leaned my head back against the soft cushion of the seat. My hair dripped down like pale white water.

"Sure. What is it?"

"It seems to me that you're a... little older than most hitchhikers. Not that yer old or anything."

I laughed. "I am. I'm twenty-eight. And right now that feels very old to me."

He thought about it for a moment. "You're married, ain't ya?"

Something cold and very sad touched me in the night. I thought of Peter. I said: "Yes, I am. You're very perceptive."

French turned and stared at me, perhaps a little longer than he should have, for when he returned his eyes to the road, I felt the car bank suddenly to the right as he negotiated a sharp correction. Then the car sped on, straight and steadily, as though the sudden swerve had been an emotional reaction of surprise.

"How come?" he asked simply.

I knew I didn't have to answer, but I wanted to. I wanted to speak it, say the words, get it all out from inside of me so that I could examine it as well. I was reacting, I knew, but it was time to find out exactly what it was I was reacting against. It was time for the truth.

I told him about Adam. In detail, including the part about the three orgasms. "It was my first affair," I repeated, as if the words meant something. "In eight years of being married... and it was my first affair."

French shook his head. For the first time in the night, he seemed at a loss for words. "That's really... somethin'," he said. "Somethin'."

I thought about it. I said: "It was. It really was... something."

French took his hand from the steering wheel and rubbed his chin. "But what happened, Sally? I mean, what happened to make you change? So sudden-like?"

The coldness of memory touched me, and I shuddered again. "When I was coming," I said, remembering, "the third time, I felt something. A change. Like my body was changing. Like a door was opening in my brain."

"And..."

"I felt myself change. I looked through that door, at myself, at my husband, Peter, and I saw that I was unhappy. I had everything... but it didn't mean anything."

I looked at French, but he was staring at the road.

"I felt suddenly trapped... dissatisfied with life. I had to get away... Don't you see?"

He rubbed his chin again. "I guess so. Everybody feels like that sometimes. Like you just gotta go... break out. Git out. It's not so unusual."

"It is for me!" I insisted. "I mean, rny God -- I'm middle-classed... Really, middle-classed. I have a husband, a home. A car. Everything. It's so strange... so frightening."

"The Age of Anxiety," French said. "Like the Age of Enlightenment or the Romantic Age, this is the Age of Anxiety. No doubt about it."

I talked on, covering over bis words. "I knew I couldn't go home again... to Peter, to the house. It was all so... meaningless. So empty. I had to run... to escape."

French cut in. "I know... filled with a restless urge to move, to wander. To seek new horizons, new experiences..."

"Yes, yes!" Then, when I realized he was poking fun at me, I lapsed into silence. I thought for a few moments, then spoke on, with less animation. "That was it... what you said, regardless of what you think of it. That was it."

French coughed. "I wasn't makin fun of you. Not really. I'm sorry."

I didn't need his sympathy, nor his apologies. I searched for words to match my feelings. I reached out, blindly. "It was almost as if... I was looking for something."

"What do you think you was lookin for?" I brushed my hair away from my face, as if I were brushing cobwebs from my brain.

"I... I don't know. Escape, maybe. Happiness? I don't know."

French snorted. "Happiness?"

"Why not?" I said, defensively. "Life should be happy, shouldn't it? I mean, I'm twenty-eight. Twenty-eight! All my life... everything, everything has been meaningless. Life should be more than that. Life should be happy."

"Why?" French asked. "Who says it should? Television? The Constitution?"

I ignored him again. My brain was racing, like the dark, starless sky that was gushing past our dart-like car.

"It's funny," I said, but it wasn't really funny. It was sad. "I can hardly remember what Peter looks like, do you know that? After eight years of marriage, and I can hardly remember what my husband looks like."

"Maybe you never really looked at him," French suggested.

I tried to think about Peter, but memories of Adam kept getting in the way. My mind kept confusing the two. I kept remembering Adam in bed with me, naked, and snoring like Peter. More than anything else, I thought, that must mean something. I mean, not remembering...

"Do you think he'll miss you?" French asked, cutting into my thoughts.

"Who?" I asked.

"Peter... your husband. Do you think hell be worried?"

I shrugged my shoulders. "I suppose so. For a while. But he has his job."

"What about kids? Do you have any?"

I tried to remember. "No. No children."

"A nice clean break," he said.

"Yes, that's it." I stared at French, but he stared at the road. "That's it. A nice clean break. No call to Peter, no notes of explanation. I had no argument with him. Just leave. Period."

"Because you're not happy..."

"I took nothing with me," I continued, justifying it for myself. "Nothing from the past but the clothing I was wearing. Just this dress."

French gave me a funny look.

"I had to go," I said, softly, softly. "I have to find... something before it's too late. Too kte for me. Do you understand?"

French snorted again. "And you saw all this in a flash. In the split-second of orgasm. Right?"

I nodded. "Yes. I saw it. Just a glimpse. But it was there."

French shook his head. "The typical American syndrome: a life filled with material things... Things and none of it means a Goddam thing. Not one fuckin' thing. All your dreams come true, and you're still not happy."

I felt my cheeks color. "You must think I'm a fool, going on like this. Well, I'm not... I just wanted to get it out... Say it before I lost the perspective. Before I couldn't recognize it for what it was. I'm sorry if I bored you, French."

He shook his head. "Hell, Sally, you didn't bore me..."

"Then you must think I'm crazy."

"Not that either."

I looked across at him. "What then, French?"

"I think it's all kinda... sad." We fell into another silence, and I could feel the heavy oppressiveness weighing over the air like a cloud of humidity. I attempted to lighten the mood, "French," I said. "What kind of name is that -- French?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "I don't rightly know. All I know is my Mama liked it, so she named me it. French. French Crandall. God, if you knew how many fights I had because of that name..."

"That's a nice name. I like it."

"Well, don't go namin you kids it, cauz..."

"No, I don't think I'll be doing that... Naming my children, I mean."

French flashed a look at me. "Jeez, Sally, I'm sorry. I didn't think..."

"Forget it," I said, with a wave of my hand. "And thanks, by the way." He looked at me again.

"For what?"

"Letting me talk."

He nodded. He said: "You might as well be gettin some sleep, Sally. We gotta long way to go yet."

I decided it was a good idea, and I curled up on the front seat, leaning against the door, closing my eyes. I was suddenly very tired, I realized. Very, very tired. And like a dark cloak, sleep came down over me.

The car was no longer moving when I woke. There was darkness all around us. Even the dash was unlit.

I woke with a start, frightened, disoriented. French was pushed into the far corner of the front seat. He was sleeping soundly.

Panic made me sweat, and for a moment I was afraid to move. "French..." I whispered. Then louder and louder, until I was shouting. "French!"

He woke with a start. "Huh? What is it?"

I moved towards him, across the seat. "Hold me, please. I'm frightened, French. Hold me, please."

His arms opened, and he pulled me toward him. I could smell the musky fragrance of sleep clinging to his clothing. "Easy, Sally, easy," he whispered. He patted my hair. "Ifs okay. Don't be scared."

I slipped my arms under his, and I pressed my face against his chest. I could hear his heart beating. His chest was narrow and thin, and I could feel his ribs under the thin fabric of his tee shirt.

"Hold me tight, please," I said. "I feel so... alone. So... lonely."

He moved his arms around my back, and his hands slid softly up and down. His caress was gentle and soothing, and I felt myself relaxing. "Easy, easy... easy."

"French... make love to me," I said. I felt no passion yet, only emptiness. "Please, French... make love to me!"

He laughed softly, tenderly. "All right, Sally. If you want me to. If it will make you happy."

I pulled my face away from his chest. "Yes, yes..." I whispered, eyes closed. I pressed my mouth against his lips and I kissed him. "Yes!"

French's mouth opened, and his tongue slid forward. I greeted him with my tongue, and we pressed against each other in wet, exploratory kisses. His tongue was soft and spongy, and I slid over the top, into his mouth. His teeth were twin hard ridges that came down and bit playfully into my tongue, chewing my flesh sexually.

I dropped my hand away from his back and I pushed it between his thighs. I touched his cock. It was already hard and throbbing.

"My goodness, Sally," French said. He broke the kiss off wetly, and spoke the words around the rim of my lips. "Tou are anxious, aren't you? It looks as if you kin hardly wait."

I grasped his cock between my fingers, and I sighed in relief at his hardness. I ran my hand up and down the length of his organ, pinching it through the material of his jeans. From what I could judge, his cock was long and thin; not such a monster as Adam's was, but certainly as long as Peter's. And perhaps even longer.

"I need you," I moaned. I licked my tongue against his face, like a cat licking at a bowl of cream. My hand worked feverishly in his crotch. "French... I need you. Please?"

French stilled my words by kissing me again. This time it was his tongue that pushed into my mouth. I parted my lips and accepted him. I sucked deeply in, drawing the full length of his tongue into my wet, drawing mouth. I felt him flitting over the slippery wet sides of my cheeks, over my palate, and behind the line of my teeth. I hollowed my cheeks and sucked in. Hard.

My hand worked up and down against his cock I could feel its heat baking up into my palm. I pressed down with my fingers and imprisoned the throbbing shaft against his leg. I rubbed up and down until I could feel his balls at the base of the organ, and the crown-like ridge near the tip of his cock. I squeezed the bulb of his cockhead, and French moaned into my mouth.

"Oohhh, Sally," he moaned. "That feels good."

I gripped his cock as tightly as I could, pressing my fingernails deeply into the fleshy pole. "Touch me... please. Please, French... Touch me before I go crazy."

He laughed against my mouth. "What parts do ya want me to touch?" he teased. He pulled his hips back and then thrust forward, driving the shaft of his cock through the pinched hollow of my fingers. "Name em for me, Sally. Say the words fer me."

"My cunt, damn it!" I moaned. The passion was there suddenly. The emptiness was gone, and I needed a new kind of attention -- a sexual one. "My cunt, my tits, my ass. My whole body! But touch them, damn it. Touch them!"

His hand came up to my breasts, and he squeezed in.

"You have nice big titties, Sally," he said. My nipple was hot and throbbing in the palm of his hand. "Ill bet you like to have them sucked, don't you?"

Passion made my head swim. I reached up for the zipper of French's jeans. I began to pull it down. "Yes, yes," I moaned. "Suck them... please suck them."

Like an expert, French worked on the buttons of my dress. The dress parted, and my tits tumbled out.

"Hey!" he exclaimed. "No bra. Don't you have anything on under that dress?"

"No," I said. I pulled the zipper open, and French's stiff cock pushed open the front of his pants. I reached my hand into the open zipper and touched him. He was naked under his jeans. "I have nothing else on. Only the dress."

My words excited him, and French's blond head came down and began to suck on my nipples. He moved his mouth from tit to tit, working on me with his tongue and lips until I moaned from the wet, licking pleasure.

I began to stroke his cock, jerking him off. "Ohhh," I moaned. With my other hand, I held his head against my chest. "That... feels... good!"

His cock was uncircumcised, and it felt strangely erotic in my soft hand. It was the first time I've ever touched that type of cock. I pulled back the tender cowl of foreskin, and I ran my fingers over the moist gians. French trembled excitedly.

"You do that well, Sally," he moaned. His mouth was slippery with saliva. His breath came out hot against my tits, and I shuddered. "Do you like to touch cock?"

I moaned. His cock felt so hard, so hot in my hand. I squeezed it as hard as I could.

"Yes... no!" I answered. "Touch my cunt. Touch it, please. My... cunt!"

French worked over the remaining buttons, and I slipped from my dress. I was naked on the front seat of his car. Naked for the second time on this night with a man who was not my husband. Where will it end? I wondered. Where?

French placed his hand between my awkwardly spread thighs. He cupped my cunt, curling his fingers under my body, through the moist foliage of my cunt hair. He parted the blondet hairy flaps of my cunt lips and jerked his finger into me.

"My... God!" he said. "You're so wet!"

Pleasure spread up from the tip of his probing finger, and I pushed down around it I crushed my ass against the sticky plastic seat, grinding my cunt against the hardness of his finger. I could feel his knuckles against the soft flap of lips, pressing into my clitoris.

"My... God, Sally," he whispered, excitedly now. "You are really hot! Hot!"

I slid back on his finger, drawing him almost all the way out of me. Then I hunched suddenly forward, and my cunt gobbled pleasurably down the length of his pushing finger. I moaned from the thrilling sensation.

"See," I said, grunting the words through my teeth. "All those years of marriage were worth something after all. I did manage to... learn something."

I grabbed his cock and pulled it up through my sliding hand. Jerking him off, softly, slowly, sensually. I moved my hand from the thick root of his belly, up the full throbbing length of the organ, until the moist head was pulsing in my hand. I squeezed into it, and French moaned.

"Did you... learn anything else?" he asked. "In all those years of marriage?"

I began to stroke his cock with the slow, steady rhythm that I had learned from Peter in the years it took me to learn how to masturbate a man. I felt French thrust a second finger into my cunt, matching my tempo, and begin to respond to my sliding, pulling hand.

"I learned to fuck," I said, boldly. I could feel sweat coating my body. I was very, very aroused. "I learned how to fuck really well."

"Did you learn anything else?" he asked, grunting.

I squeezed his cock hard. "You mean like sucking? Sucking cock?"

The idea excited him. "Yeah, Sally. Would you do that fer me?"

I didn't bother to answer. I simply bent down between his parted thighs, and I took his cock into my mouth. I slid my lips down the length of the slender organ, and I began to suck him off.

"Jeez-us!" French groaned. His body stiffened, and he thrust his hips up hard. "My God... My God!"

His cock was slender and tapered, and I found I could easily swallow his whole length. His cock felt different in my mouth than Peter's or Adam's did, and somehow that excited me very much. I pursed my lips tightly around the broad base, and I hollowed my cheeks against the sides of the quivering pole of wet flesh. His pubic hairs tickled against my face, and I could feel the swelling thickness of his cock-head pressed against the opening of my throat. I began to move up and down on him, stroking his cock with my mouth.

French's hand slipped from my cunt, and he pressed my head down with all ten fingers. I could feel his hips rising and dropping in tempo to my sucking, and I felt his body tensing and lifting from the car seat, I sensed he was very close to coming.

I slid my mouth up the length of the organ, and I pulled it from my mouth. I felt my saliva dribble down my chin.

"No..." he said, trying to push it back in. "I wanna... come!"

"You will," I said, squeezing the dripping rod between my fingers to assure him. "Fuck me now."

He was less ready to fuck as he was to have me make him come in the wetness of my mouth, but he finally acceded.

"Okay... but hurry!"

I lay flat on the front of the car seat. The plastic stuck uncomfortably to my sweaty back, and each time I lifted my ass to change my position, my body would make a squeaking noise. I threw my left leg over the back of the seat, and I anchored my foot in the steering wheel. My cunt was wide open for him, about to embrace him inside of the warmth and wetness of my aching body.

French threw himself excitedly down upon me. His cock was stiff and hard and wet, and he pushed it excitedly between my parted thighs, missing my cunt in his haste to fuck me.

His age was showing, I thought, aware that neither Adam or Peter would be so excited that it would make them lose their head. Yet, in some ways French's inexperience was stimulating. For him it was a raw, sexual experience, something he hasn't gotten enough of yet to relegate it to the mundane. He was fucking a strange, married woman, and for him, in his youth, that was exciting. Fucking was exciting!

I pulled his cock into my cunt, remembering my own youth in back seats of cars. I tried to recapture those years, that youthful exuberance, that intensity of sexual feeling. I pressed my cunt up hard, and I felt French's cock sinking deeply into my belly.

"Harder!" I coaxed, very excited now. I pushed up and down against him, gripping the pole of his cock with the muscles of my cunt. He bucked fiercely in and out of me, drawing his swordlike rod to the lips of my cunt, then stabbing in deeply into me, right to the hilt.

"I'm gonna... come!" he grunted. I could smell his sweat, his excitement. His blond hair hung in my face and I kissed his mouth hard, sinking my straining tongue deep inside of him. I strained up towards the ceiling, pressing the back of my legs against the car seat to lift me. French drove viciously in and out of me, like an engine going berserk.

I felt my own orgasm building. It amazed me. My second new man in the same night, and I was building towards still another orgasm. I couldn't believe my body. I couldn't believe it was happening to me!

I felt French's cock quivering stiffly inside of me. I squeezed tight, bringing the full length of my wet cuntal canal to press against his very hard, very hot cock. He moaned in my mouth then jerked up savagely inside of me, driving his cock to the depths of my cunt. I could feel the zipper on his pants scratching against my nakedness.

"I'm coming!" he cried, as if somehow surprised. He pressed into me, hard and deep. I'm coming!

When I felt his hot thick seed spilling like hot water up into me, I began to came. It was as though my cunt was already primed, and when his sperm touched my raw flesh, it was all I needed, I lifted my body and sealed it against his driving middle. I felt myself coming all over his cock.

Liquid fire dripped from the throbbing mouth of his cock, and it spread up into the velvet slit of my cunt. It burned there, into me, sending my orgasm down the length of my quivering thighs, then back up again.

"God... God!" I groaned, feeling my brain reach out, straining towards... something hard and elusive. I felt the fingers of my brain tightening around it, but then, just as I was about to reel it in, my orgasm reached its peak and began to diminish. I felt the thing slip through my fingers, gone perhaps forever.

French felt heavy on me. The smell of sex was no longer exciting. His sperm felt cold as it dripped from my cunt, over my ass, and all over the front seat of the car.

I held him very tightly. He was breathing very heavily, as though he were about to have a heart attack. I patted him affectionately on the side of his head.

It was good, I thought. As good as it always had been with Peter, and perhaps as good as it had been with Adam. But it wasn't magic.

It wasn't what I needed.

CHAPTER THREE

When we arrived at the festival site, I said goodbye to French and thanked him. He had friends to meet there, and I sensed his usefulness to me had ended, I tried to find what I needed in the youthful innocent hardness of his body, but it was not there. I was just as anxious, just as unhappy as I had been with Adam. Happiness, if indeed that was what I was looking for, was neither to be found in the security of a husband, in the experienced touch of a supple-bodied lover, nor in the unspoiled enthusiasm of youth. I had to search on, further, further, until I found it.

I walked the last hour, still a mile or two from the grounds because the cars were backed up and un-moving in an endless string that stretched in both directions as far as you could see.

I walked past the unbroken ranks of cars, feeling a little uncomfortable in the thin fabric of my dress. I was aware that I was completely naked under it, and even more acutely aware of the heavy, unaccustomed bobble of my braless breasts. I walked with my arms folded across my chest, both shielding and supporting my half-naked tits.

But, as I walked, I began to notice what was going on around me. Nudity didn't seem to be a very important consideration. Many, many of the girls I saw were dressed in a fashion that was very similar to mine. And some were even completely naked, and not, apparently ashamed of it. They sat in the cars with their breasts dangling, or their skirts pulled up to their waist, airing their sweaty crotches. More than once I observed them fucking openly, in the back or front seats of the cars, with anywhere from one to four boys, without any apparent concern or embarrassment, I, of course, was shocked whenever I walked past a stalled car that served as a place for an orgy, and I averted my eyes, trying not to notice.

But it was almost impossible not to, and it continued to happen with increasing frequency, the closer I got to the festival entrance. Perhaps it had something to do with the waiting. In the boredom, they simply resorted to fucking as a way of killing time.

Without really wanting to, I found myself growing aroused. The girls were young and beautiful, the boys hard and virile. Whenever I saw a flash of cock sinking into a quivering snatch, or heard the unabashed groans of pleasure, I felt excited and a little cheated. I sensed that I had missed something very important with French, but I didn't know what. Perhaps it was an attitude towards sex, and I began to wonder whether anyone from my generation could ever really see or accept human sexuality with the same kind of honest, open, guiltless ease that boys and girls of French's generation did. If there was any kind of generation gap, it was in this area.

I could see a crowd of people ahead, in the distance, and off to my right, the rolling hills and valleys were completely littered with humanity. As for as I could see, there was an endless sea of men, women, children, boys and girls. They stood, they sat, they danced and jumped, obscuring the grass the way confetti covers over the dance floor at a New Year's Eve party. A million bobbing, bearded, longhaired heads.

I reached the crowd and watched for a moment. The fence that had roped off the whole festival area was trampled down here, and everyone was waiting patiently their turn to enter the grounds illegally. Not having any money, I waited my turn in the group, and I climbed over the fallen fence. I was officially at my first rock festival.

I still couldn't hear any music, although there was something that might have been a stage off in the distance. It was about a half a mile away. The area between was filled with laughter, shouting, talking, singing, records, radio noise, and small pockets of people making their own music. The air was heavy with a sharp, pungent smell, and I watched people passing around strangely shaped cigarettes. They sat on the ground, on blankets, on each other, on bedrolls and in tents. They ate food: sandwiches, fruit, raw carrots and candy. I saw one girl with a knapsack filled with nothing but bubble gum, and she was handing it out to everyone. People were drinking wine, and I saw my first wineskin. A boy was holding it up to his bearded open mouth, squeezing into the leather pouch, and a thin purple stream of wine arced into his mouth. He offered the skin to me, but embarrassed, I declined. I walked on.

I began to hear music, and I looked in the direction of the stage. The sound seemed to be coming from two huge towers on either side of the stage. The music was loud and harsh, full of static, but no one seemed to mind. No one, in fact seemed to be paying very much attention to it. The music seemed nothing more than an excuse: a reason for attending.

There was a great deal of open nudity, but I was past the point of being surprised or shocked. Naked men and women sat around in relaxed, non-sexual positions, and they reminded me of sun-bathers at a crowded beach.

I found myself staring, however, furtively at first, but then more openly. They might treat nudity as commonplace, but I still found it exciting. Especially when the girl was fairly well-developed, with heavy pendulous tits or a very hairy, sexy-looking cunt. And when I came across a man who was really well-hung, or who had a harden, I felt myself sucking in my breath in an involuntary throb of excitement.

Couples even made love out in the open, although, this did bring on some curious observers. They'd gather around in a small cluster, and watch and comment on technique or cock size or the way the girl was reacting. But no shock, no violence, no sudden uncontrollable surges of passion that would lead to rape. Just an open, honest curiosity and strangely frank admiration.

I watched a black girl sucking a white boy's cock. She was on her knees, and he was lying flat under her. Her mouth was wrapped around his thick shaft almost to the base of his hairy belly, and behind her, fucking her in doggie-fashion, was a tall, muscular black man. I watched in awe, with my cunt dripping down my naked thighs, as his mighty, thick black shaft sunk in and out of her quivering cunt. Then, just as he came, he pulled his long black cock from her cunt and placed it on her back, between the ebony cheeks of her ass. The black man began to come. Thick, milky-white blobs of cream gushed from his rod, and sprayed all over her tensed, arched back.

The moment she felt the sperm, she bent her mouth down the remaining length of the youthful white lad under her, and I could see her cheeks draw in. The boy hunched up hard into her, moaned, and I could see her throat bobbling up and down, as if she were swallowing something.

Then I realized she was -- his sperm! While I was watching them, the white boy was coming in the black girl's mouth. He was coming in her mouth!

My heart beat rapidly in my chest, and I could feel my nipples getting hard under the thin fabric of my dress. My cunt lips quivered, and I had to press my thighs together to still the fluttering of pleasure that I felt in my clitoris. Something wet moved down my cunt, inside of me, then outside, and it dripped down my thigh.

"'S wild, ain't it?" someone said.

I jumped. A flush rushed to my face. Someone saw me watching the sexual scene and, even though there was about twenty or so men and women watching with rne, I suddenly felt as though I were the one doing something immoral. My face burned as I turned towards the man who had spoken.

"That's really something, isn't it?" he repeated. "I guess everybody should do his own thing."

I stared at him, feeling the blood rushing to my ears. He was tall and thin aesthetic-looking, with soft brown shoulder-length hair. He was naked to the waist, and below it, he wore a ragged pair of faded Jeans. His feet were bare. I looked up again at his face, at his blue, blue eyes that seemed to be looking right through me.

"I-I guess so," I muttered. His cheeks were hollow, and his beard and hair made him look almost Christ-like. His blue eyes burned like twin chunks of ice. "As long as it doesn't bother anybody."

He laughed, a soft rippling sound that stole up from his thin, naked chest. "Well, I don't know about you, sister, but their doing their thing is really bothering me." He put his hand down and touched his crotch. I noticed for the first time a long thick throbbing harden pushing out the front of his jeans. He laughed again, touching himself through the pants.

"Oh," I said, stupidly, blushing. I turned away from the boy next to me, and I looked at the couple in front of us. The black man had toppled back to the grass, but the black girl was still on her knees, sucking hard. Sperm dribbled from her tightly clamped mouth, like saliva oozing from between her lips. I could see that the white boy under her was almost in pain from coming, and he was begging her to release his cock. She did finally, and it fell from her purple lips, a broken deflated piece of flesh.

"More!" the black girl shouted, licking the sperm from the boy's belly. "More... cock!"

The crowd began to laugh, and men began pushing each other, kiddingly, coaxing their friends to be the one to answer her request. Finally someone did, stripping off his clothing, and he rushed to fuck her while she was still on her knees.

"Wow," the tall thin man-boy next to me said. "Wow. That is really wild."

The man dropped down behind her and stabbed his cock into her cunt. The girl groaned loudly.

I watched in fascination, breathing shallowly, and I jumped when the boy next to me touched my arm.

"You going?" he asked. "I don't think I can stand much more of this without coming in my pants." He touched his cock again.

What could I say? No, I'm not going; I'm going to stay and watch? It didn't seem to me that I had very much of a choice. Besides he was good-looking and I found myself thinking again and again of his cock.

"I guess so," I said, feeling at ease with him, amazed slightly at the ease with which I was picked up. "I've seen enough."

He smiled at me, but his blue eyes were cold on my sweaty flesh. "My name is Zachary. You can call me Zach."

I fell in step next to him, looking up at him. "My name is Sally," I said, eliminating my last name. Somehow it no longer seemed appropriate.

"Hi, Sally," he said. "You with somebody?"

I shook my head. "No, I'm alone."

"You're a groovy-looking chick, you know that?"

I blushed. "Thank you." I felt my nipples tingle from the sound of his voice, and I tried to cover them over by folding my arms. "Thanks."

"You want to go to my tent?" he asked. "I'm with some people, but they're good people. You'll like them."

A bit of the old morality came back to me, and I found myself thinking no. But, somehow, the parallel of going up to a man's apartment the first time you met him just didn't work in this situation, in this environment.

I shrugged my shoulders. "I don't know. I guess so."

"Good, man," he said, his voice barely audible. "I've got some really good grass there. We could do some if you want."

Grass, I thought. Marijuana. He was talking about smoking marijuana, something I've never done. My stomach tensed, and something cold and heavy crawled up my spine. I knew I should run, but where to? Home? That didn't work anymore either. I was in a whole new world, playing by a set of all new rules.

"Okay," I answered. "I guess so."

"Beautiful!"

It was so clean and simple, I thought, slightly amazed. Two minutes ago I didn't even know him. Now I was going to his tent to smoke marijuana with him. No wasted effort, no phony pretensions of roles. Just two people communicating directly with each other. It was a strange, new and exciting experience.

We walked to Zach's tent.

Inside, sitting on the grass and dirt floor were three young, bearded men. They were each sitting on the floor, legs crossed, and they were passing a cigarette between them. The same acrid, pungent odor filled the tent.

"People," Zach said. "This is Sally. Sally, this is Lenny, Steve and Gino."

I nodded and said a weak hello.

"Hey, people could you do me a big favor? Why don't you split for a while so that me and Sally can do a little grass... in private? Okay?"

With almost no grumbling, the three got up and smiled benignly at me. Their eyes were glazed and there was a simple, almost stupid smile on their faces. The last one, a short blond youth with a scraggly yellow bead, the one called Gino, waved at me and said: "Everything is cool."

I didn't know what he meant, and I'm not sure he did either. Zach slapped him on the back and told him he was a good man.

When they were gone, Zach took me by the hand and led me to the middle of the tent. We sat down, facing each other, with our legs crossed. I felt anxious, and my mouth was dry. I licked my lips.

"Ready?" Zach asked.

I nodded. "Sure."

He reached over and fished into the bedroll and removed three unevenly rolled joints from the folds of material. He placed two on the floor between us, and stuck the third between his lips. He lit a match and brought the flame up to the end of the twisted yellow paper.

The paper burned, and Zach took one or two puffs. Then he drew heavily on it, and the end glowed brightly. The thick smell of the strong smoke filled my nostrils.

"Wow," he said, sucking in air along with the smoke. He blinked twice, then handed the joint to me.

I held it tentatively. My hand was shaking and I felt apprehension spreading up and down my spine. But I knew I couldn't turn back now. I was caught up in my own search for whatever it was I thought I needed. Perhaps it would be in the brown, twisted weed of burning marijuana.

I placed the joint between my lips. I've never smoked it, but how to smoke was common knowledge. I've seen it done hundreds of times on television. I drew in deeply, taking a deep drag, sucking the powerful smoke deep into my lungs. I held my breath, keeping the smoke down. I handed, the joint back to Zach.

He exhaled and blew out a thin blue haze of smoke, then took the joint from me and took another toke.

The smoke was harsh and burning, and my lungs rebelled. I wanted to expell the smoke almost immediately, but I closed my mouth and nose, holding my breath until I felt something warm spreading out from my lungs. I felt light-headed, with tears welling up behind my eyes. Finally I expelled the smoke, gasping for air.

Zach handed me the joint again, and I took my second drag. I watched how he did it, and this time I sucked in air with the smoke. The smoke went down deep and hard, like a solid mass, and my eyes began to tear. I could feel the smoke swirling around in my chest, and my hands began to tingle.

By the time we had finished the first joint and were halfway into the second, I was completely and totally stoned. It was like nothing I've ever felt in my life. I felt light-headed and woozy, yet in no way did I feel sick or nauseous. I felt disassociated, as if my brain was located outside of my body, and I was looking in, at myself. I felt strangely giddy, and I had to fight back the growing need to giggle. But mostly I felt calm and relaxed and strangely contented.

"Man, Sally," Zach said. His voice seemed to be blipping in and out of my range of hearing, like someone was turning the sound on and off. "I am stoned. I am smashed!"

I began to giggle. His words seemed absurdly, wildly funny. It was the wildest thing I've every heard in my life. Except for my answer: "So am I!" I screamed.

We finished the joint, and I couldn't remember how many toes I had. I could feel words coming up my esophagus, like bubbles, popping from my mouth and floating across the room. Zach seemed to be floating, moving in slow motion.

"Hey, Sally, you know what? I want to fuck you." The words came out slow and spaced and very far away.

I didn't understand him. "What?" I asked, but slowly, like water dripping into my brain, the answer filled my thoughts.

"Oh," I said, considering his proposal. "You want to fuck me?"

"Yeah. You want to?"

I didn't know. I couldn't pin my thoughts down long enough to decide. So I said: "All right."

I watched calmly, unexcitedly, as Zach floated across the small space between us. His hands caressed my breasts, and I looked down and watched. Somewhere, deep inside of my body, I could feel the far away tingle of the caress. It made my cunt throb.

"That's wild," I said, staring down. Zach had opened my dress and he was playing with my tits. The nipples were erect and long and pink, and I watched, with excitement tapping at my brain, as he pinched them between his fingers. A deep spreading warmth burned down into my body from the end of my nipples.

His hands caressed me softly, and cupped both my breasts like twin melons. I watched his fingers squeeze into my deep, soft flesh. Then I watched a hand, my hand, float across the space between us, and I touched his cock.

"Wow, wow, wow," he moaned. His cock was hard and long and thick. He pushed it up into my hand. "That's wild, Sally. Wild!"

I unzipped his zipper, and like a slow, sensually unwinding snake, Zach's cock slid from the open mouth of his parted jeans. I reached down and slowly wrapped my hand around it, finger by curling finger.

After a moment, I felt the warmth and incredible heat of his enormous organ. I squeezed into the flesh hard, feeling the pulsing throb of blood rushing, filled the organ. A bubble of moisture oozed from the head of the cock, and I ran my finger over it, spreading the wetness across the smooth glans. "Lay down," Zach said. "I want to fuck you now." His hands opened my dress, then helped me off with it. I saw my stomach and my belly. The base of my groin, between my thighs, was covered with a thick, soft blonde growth of hair. I cupped it with, my palm and caressed it smoothly. The touch excited me, especially when I felt the lips opening, and a wetness oozed out against my finger tips. "Lay down," he repeated. He pushed me back, on the floor. "I want to fuck you, Sally." I stared up. Slowly, as if they were floating, Zach's jeans slid down his legs and he stepped out of them. His cock stood rigidly away from his body, and I stared up at it in amazement. It had to be one of the longest cocks I've ever seen in my life. His balls were heavy and full, covered with fine brown hairs. They swung slowly between his slender thighs, like two heavy weights.

Zach came down between my open thighs, and I lifted my legs straight up. I reached down and touched his cock, pulling him towards me. His fingers moved against my cunt, opening the lips, preparing the entrance for his cock. My cunt made a sticky wet noise that surprised me. I hadn't realized how aroused I was. Then, as I thought seriously about it, I became aware of the deep, sensual burning that filled my aching body.

"Fuck me!" I moaned, excited. "Please... fuck me!"

His cock pushed between the flapping lips, and Zach's cock slid up inside of me. I could feel the lips of my cunt pulling apart, and the hollow between filling up with a long, thick hardness. I pushed against it, feeling pleasure, like a tide of water, washing against my cunt.

"Uhh... uh!" I groaned. The pleasure of penetration was vividly intense. I stretched up and grasped my ankles, pulling my body nearly in half. I watched as Zach's cock dipped between the widely stretched lips and vanished into my cunt. "Oooohhh-hh!"

I watched the press of his cock pushing the lips of my cunt open. I could see wetness oozing from the tight mouth that was gripped around the shaft of his cock, and I watched the nub of my clit peeking out from the hood of flesh where the lips come together. Like a pump, or a heart, the clit was throbbing, and the vibrations it produced, shook down into my flesh, making my body quiver.

Then I felt the pleasure. Almost abstracted, as if it were happening to another person, the cloud of pleasure floated down around my naked cunt, and broke open like an egg.

"Fuck me!" I cried. "Harder! Deeper!"

Far away, above me, I could hear Zach grunting. His mouth was saying something, moaning perhaps, but the words were floating away from my ears. I lifted my cunt and pressed it tightly against his crotch. I watched in amazement as the full length of his cock sunk between the lips of my cunt. His belly was pressed against my cunt. His balls were dangling against the cheeks of my ass. His cock was throbbing deep inside of me.

I pulled back hard on my ankles, bending my body in half. Zach was above me, driving down into my upturned cunt. My box was only inches away from my face, and I could see the hair on his belly intertwining into my blonde crotch hair. The raw sexual odor of my own cunt assailed my nostrils, and I could hear his cock sliding in and out of me, rubbing against my flesh.

"Come!" Zach cried, in apparent amazement or surprise. "I'm gonna... come!"

He bent over me, dropping his full body weight between my legs. His arms flopped over, past my head, and he stretched his hands down to the floor. Zach was arched over me, his cock in my cunt, his feet on one side of my body, his hands on the other.

"I'm coming!" he shouted, still surprised. "I'm... coming!"

I felt his cock open up. I felt his cock draw back, then buck forward. I felt something surging down the turgid length of his cock. Then it gushed from the open tip, like water leaking from an open hose. His balls tightened against my ass, and I could feel his muscles quivering. I could feel his orgasm, through his body!

"God... I'm coming!" Still shock, still surprise, and just, perhaps, a trace of disappointment. "Coming..."

I could feel every twitch, every throb, every pulse of his mighty, coming organ. I could feel the wetness, the deep, burning, hot wetness of his sperm, splashing into the sucking lining of my cunt, splattering against me, bubbling into my box, like foam or steam or lava.

"Noooo!" I heard someone cry. Then I realized it was my voice. "Not yet! Don't come yet... please?"

My voice sounded desperate, and I fought through the numbing fog of the marijuana to try and understand why. Then I remembered that I hadn't come yet. It simply hadn't occurred to me that I should have been thinking about coming. I seemed to have gotten deeply involved in the sensations of fucking, and coming hadn't even entered my mind.

But now I remembered it, and I thought about it. I judged my body. I was hot, very hot. And excited. My cunt ached, and my breasts were tender. I realized I was building towards an orgasm, but it was slipping away just as the hardness of Zach's deflating cock was slipping away from me.

"No!" I cried, consciously joining in. "Not yet... No!"

But it was too late, and Zach's mighty cock had shrivelled into a wet and limp and useless piece of soft flesh. It plopped from my cunt, and he held it between his fingers. Thick milky strings of sperm dripped from his cupped hand; I looked up at him. His soft bearded face seemed framed between my open, extended thighs and soft, oozing come-filled cunt.

"No, please!" I cried. I could almost taste the closeness of my orgasm in my mouth. It tasted bitter and frustrated. "Please... I gotta come! Please?"

Zach looked down. It was obvious that he was in pain, perhaps ashamed at his own selfishness. And for a strangely sympathetic, schizophrenic moment, I felt sorry for him.

"I'll get... help!" he said. He floated up and away.

For a long time I was alone.

I touched my cunt, straining my feet towards the roof of the tent, and I buried two fingers in my cunt, one from each hand. My cunt was a swirling puddle of hot come and sexual excitement, and I sunk the fingers in as deeply as I could. They felt like wiggling worms in my belly.

"It's not enough!" I cried, talking to myself, feeling the orgasm floating away, like a helium balloon caught in a breeze. "It's not... enough!"

I heard noises and I saw faces. For a moment I couldn't understand what they were saying or who they were. Then I recognized them. It was Zach's three friends. They were back in the tent and they were naked.

"Wow!" one of the three said. "Look at her go!"

They were talking about me, I realized. Then I remembered my position: completely naked, on the floor, with my legs straight up in the air, and my hands buried in my oozing, come-gooey cunt. I felt no shame, no embarrassment, no intimidation. All I felt was passion.

"Fuck me!" I moaned. I pulled my hands from my cunt, and I felt Zach's sperm dripping from my fingers, spilling against my aching pussy. "Please, help me! Somebody, please... fuck me!"

"With pleasure!" a thick-chested, dark-haired one said. His body was milk white, and he had the darkest, blackest hair I've ever seen. Like his short thick body, his cock was a wide, blunted weapon. He moved towards me with it, carrying it to me with both his hands. He said again: "With pleasure!"

He dropped onto me, pushing my hands away from between my straining thighs. My cunt was wet and lubricated with the sticky discharge of Zach's come, and his thick, powerful cock spread me open like a vise. I felt him deep in my belly, stroking himself through Zach's sperm.

"I'm gonna come!" I realized. Like Zach, it had sneaked suddenly upon me. I pushed my cunt up against the driving cudgel-like cock. "I'm gonna come..."

I pressed up hard, and he ground down deep and powerfully, I felt someone behind me, grasp my ankles, and he pulled me in half, pulling my feet behind my head and anchoring them to the floor on the tent. My body was completely bent in half, and my cunt was at a ninety-degree angle, above me. And he was fucking straight down, into me.

I began to come. I felt my body lift from the ground and soar up into the air, through the driving cock, through the body pressing me down, through the roof of the tent, high above the festival site, and I crashed into the moon. Colors flashed all around me, and for the first time in my life, I could taste the fibrous texture of my own orgasm. It rang deep and powerfully in my ears, like some great tolling bell that I was a part of. Then my body crumbled into a billion quivering pieces of raw flesh.

"I'm coming!" the one fucking me grunted. His cock went berserk in my cunt, and I thought he was trying to screw me to the ground. In a solid, thick stream, gushing out with all the force and pressure of a firehose, his cock opened up and jetted his come into my cunt. I could feel his hot gush mixing with the cold puddle of Zach's. Then he screamed it again, as if anyone had failed to hear him: "I'm coming!"

He dismounted, and before I had completely returned from my voyage to the moon, someone else had taken his place in my overflowing cunt. It was the blond one called Gino. His cock was a different size, and I felt it fill my cunt in an excitingly different way. He began to fuck me, and when he came, I did again also. Only this time it was better, longer, harder, higher, further and more intense. My mind went away from my body, and for a very long while it didn't return.

When it did, Gino was gone, and there was a different cock in my cunt. A longer, thicker, harder one. I could hear him splashing into my gushing box, driving the shaft of his cock through the deposits of three separate cocks and three separate comes. Not to mention mine.

And I was not surprised when he began to come, that I began to come again. I could hear my cunt making a deep, sucking noise, like an overflowing drain. I could feel his hot sperm oozing from my swollen cunt and dripping down my ass.

I felt someone behind me change places with the person holding my legs down. New hands gripped my ankles. Then a new cock throbbed into my cunt I don't know whether this new cock came, for my mind went away somewhere, and did not return for a very, very long time. And when it did, there was someone on top of me, in my cunt, that I never saw before in my life.

After him there were three others. I was sore and I ached, and I was tired of coming.

But I couldn't make up my mind. It was hard to tell if they were raping me or being nice to me.

I think I passed out after a while.

CHAPTER FOUR

The sun beat down very heavily on my brain, and I had to shade my eyes from the daylight glare. The roadway was very hot, and I could actually see the heat radiating up from the melting black tar. The air was thick with exhaust fumes that I tried not to inhale, but I had no choice; I had to breathe. Every time I did so, I would feel my stomach turn nauseously, and I had a dull, throbbing headache.

I walked slowly along the grassy shoulder of the highway, turning towards the road whenever a car swept past me. I was in Virginia now, and the rock festival was completely gone from my mind as a way of finding what I was searching for. I only wished it was gone from my memory; and my body.

Still, I thought, it wasn't all that bad. The grass was good and exciting. A new experience; something I've never tried before. I still wasn't positive I had explored it fully enough to say it didn't hold anything for me. Perhaps I'd try it again one day. Of course, tinder different circumstances.

My legs ached, and the flesh between my thighs was raw. Literally raw. My cunt was swollen and puffy, and there was a dull throbbing ache deep in my vagina that pulsed with pain each time I took a step. I still don't know how many men I took on: perhaps the whole festival. All I know is there was a continual stream of them, all with new hard cocks, filling my drowning pussy with more come than I ever knew was possible to absorb. My cunt felt like Niagara Falls, with torrents of rushing come cascading over the curved cliff of rny pubis, draining down into the sperm-soaked floor of the tent.

After it was over I think they were frightened. They took care of me, put blankets around me, and tried to comfort my sobbing. Zach personally washed out my cunt, and dabbed medication on the long abrasions between my legs. They gave me food and drink, more than I needed, and gave me even a knapsack to carry it in. And then, when I tried to put my clothing back on, and we discovered that someone had shredded my dress, the only clothing I had, they went out and obtained some other clothing for me to wear. It wasn't much -- a pair of men's jeans that were a little big for me, a shell-like purple shirt, and a pair of sandles that laced up my calves. I still didn't have any underwear, but it didn't bother me as much now. I seemed to have adopted a new role, and my present clothing fit my body as well as my new temperament. I was a hippie, on the road, searching for what? I still didn't know. Maybe I never would. But I had to search just the same. A twenty-eight year old married hippie. It was all so very strange.

A car roared past and I stuck out my thumb. There was a man and a woman in the car, and as they sped past, the woman gave me a horrified look I tried to imagine myself as her all those many times I drove with Peter and we passed some ragged-looking hitchhiker on the road. We never thought to stop. We simply drove past, as if it wasn't a human being, but just another thing on the road, something discarded like an old used tissue or an empty soda bottle.

The car disappeared down the long gray road, and I began to think of Peter. I wondered what he was doing, right at that moment. Had he called the police? The FBI? What had he told our parents, our friends?

It was like another world, I thought. Part of the past, part of my imagination. And like all things from the past, it was beyond touching, beyond memory. It was like a dim image, fading, fading, fading in the sunlight. I felt hollow thinking about it. Empty. As though someone had drained all the color from it, all the laughter. It rattled from corner to corner in my brain, fitting nowhere, a part of nothing. Life's too short, I thought. I'm twenty-eight, and in November I'll be twenty-nine. And then thirty. It only comes around once, so you'd better make it good. After it's gone, it's all over.

Another car went past, but this one stopped, about a hundred yards up the road. I walked slowly towards it, not in any particular hurry. Unlike that first night, I was no longer rushing to get away. I was away now, and all that mattered was that I keep on going further and further away. Where didn't matter. How fast didn't make any particular difference. I would search until I found it.

The man driving the car got impatient, and he threw the machine into reverse. Swerving from right to left, moving very rapidly, the car drove back to meet me. From the rear, and the way it moved, the car reminded me of a dinosaur.

He stopped about ten feet from me, and I walked slowly up to the front door. I looked in. The driver was alone in the car. He was an older man, about fifty, I guess, kind of fat and balding. He had a white short-sleeve shirt on and a pair of green work pants. His hair was faded mouse-color, what little there was of it, and the top of his head was a shiny deep brown tan. He was wearing a pair of green sunglasses.

I tried the door. It was locked. I knocked on the window and pointed to the door.

He sat and stared at me.

"It's locked," I said, pointing to the handle. "Open the door."

He sat and stared.

"Fuck you," I said, giving him the finger, and I turned away from the car and wandered down the road.

A few minutes later, the car pulled up beside me and the door swung open. I stared in at the man.

"You sure you want to give me a ride?" I asked.

He tried to smile, but it somehow reminded me of a threat. "Sure. Come on in."

I studied him a little longer. He looked harmless, but that didn't mean anything. Zach had reminded me of Christ.

"Come on!" he insisted. "You want me to get a ticket?"

I climbed into the car, and then remembering French, I pulled the door quickly closed. The car was air-conditioned, and the icy breeze billowed against my sweat-sticky clothing. It was an expensive car, and the front seat was soft and comfortable. The car was equipped with a tape-deck, and soft string music filled the car. I think it was Montovani.

Like a sleek dark animal, the car moved silently back onto the road. There was hardly any sensation of movement, and no sound of the engine working. Only the music and the humming purr of the air-conditioner.

The man behind the wheel stared at the road in complete silence for about five minutes. If he didn't want to speak, that was all right with me. I learned my lesson with French. I sat back in the soft seat and closed my eyes, trying to sleep. The knapsack was uncomfortable on my shoulders, and I flipped it into the back seat.

The man turned towards me. Despite the cool air from the air-conditioner, tiny beads of sweat decorated his bald head. He stared at me through the green barrier of his sunglasses.

"What did you do that for?" he asked.

I thought he was talking about the knapsack, and I turned around to retrieve it.

"No," he said, "not that. Back there. On the road."

"What do you mean?"

"What did you go and give me the finger for?" He sounded hurt. "What did you tell me to go fuck myself for?"

I thought for a moment. "I'm sorry. I thought you were trying to be funny."

He turned to me in deadly seriousness. "You know you can get in trouble picking up hikers? The police. Then some of them work in teams. The dame out front and her boyfriend back in the bushes. They conk you over the head, steal your money and your car. I had to make sure, you know. You got to protect yourself."

He reminded me of a gangster from a 1930's movie. "I'm sorry. Thanks for stopping, though."

He nodded gravely. "It's okay."

We drove on for another couple of minutes in silence. Again he broke into it. "You hungry?"

I shook my head. My knapsack was filled with sandwiches and fruit, and I had eaten a full breakfast before I left Zach's tent. The fact that I hadn't spent any money for the past two or three days hadn't hampered anything. Here I was -- well fed, well clothed, and in the state of Virginia. All without having spent a dime.

"No, thank you," I answered politely.

"I was gonna stop a little later on. You know, to get some lunch. You want to eat anyhow?"

I was beinning to suspect that he wanted to stop to eat, and was afraid of leaving me alone in the car. He wanted me where he could see me.

"Okay," I agreed. "But I don't have any money."

He smiled and relaxed. "No problem. I got plenty of dough. My treat."

"Thanks. Thanks a lot, Mr..."

"Ralph," he said. He began to whistle. "Just call me Ralph."

"Thanks, Ralph. My name is Sally."

"That's a pretty name. I knew a girl named Sally once. When I was younger. Only she had black hair. Long black hair, down past her shoulders. A real knockout."

He began to whistle again, out of tune to the music from the tape-deck, I closed my eyes around the silence, and tried to sleep.

"Where you going to, Sally?" Ralph asked. He stopped whistling just long enough to talk. Then he began to whistle again.

I shrugged my shoulders. "I don't know. Nowhere special, I guess. Where are you going?"

"Cal-la-forni-ya!" he said, breaking the word down into its syllables. He whistled a few bars of "California, Here I Come." Then he looked at me and smiled. "Los Angeles, California. You ever been there?"

I shook my head, "No, never."

"You want to go along for the ride?" he asked. He stared at the gray-topped road, zipping along at more than seventy-five miles an hour. Cars swept past us as though they were standing still.

I shrugged my shoulders. "I don't know. It's a long trip. You sure you want me along that far?"

He pushed the button on the tape machine, changing the selection. He did this twice, apparently looking for something in particular. To me, though it all sounded the same. Like Montovani.

"Why not?" he asked. "I gotta go there. I might as well have company. Besides it won't take long. A couple of days."

"But I don't have any money for food or motels. And I can't drive."

"Did I ask you to drive?" he asked. "And as for money, I already told you -- I got plenty of dough. Besides, stuff like that we can always... work out."

Work out, I thought, measuring the euphemism. Well, why not? Certainly it couldn't be any worse than what happened to me at the rock festival. What's one more man, one more cock? Besides, there's always California to consider. I've never been there before. I've never been anywhere in fact, outside of Florida on my honeymoon. Free transportation to California and all it costs me is a little putting out for Ralph. Well, why not. I put out for Adam and see what it go me. If it hadn't have been for him, I'd be home now, with Peter living that same dull and monotonous life that I've led up to two days ago. There's no telling where this may lead me, so the smart thing would be to go along with it, ride it out and stop resisting it. Let the waves drop me somewhere. Somewhere new.

"I guess so," I said finally. "If you don't mind my company."

Ralph seemed excited. "Hell no! I enjoy company. Especially... pretty company." He began to whistle "California, Here I Come" again.

About an hour later we stopped at a small diner and had lunch. Ralph ate a meal, but I only had a cheeseburger and coffee. After the meal, I went into the ladies room, locked the door, took all my clothing off, and washed my body in the sink. My thighs were yellow and green with bruises, and my cunt was very tender. I touched it tentatively, shuddering when I realized it would soon be invaded by still another cock. While I put my clothing back on, I wondered how big Ralph's cock was. I wondered if it would hurt very much.

We were back in the car, driving again, when Ralph turned to me. "Sally, what are you going to do once you get to California?"

I hadn't thought that far in advance. I shrugged my shoulders and said: "I don't know."

"You gonna get a job?" he asked.

"I guess I could try. I'll need money and a place to live." I wondered what he was leading up to.

"Well, you know, I got a friend in L.A., by the name of Herb Sutton. A very good friend of mine. He's got this special kind of business, and he's always looking for pretty... liberal-minded young girls to work for him. You get the picture, I'm sure."

It would have been nearly impossible not to. "I think I know what you mean."

"Well, if you want, I can put in a good word with Herb once we get to L.A. You know, tell him what kind of cooperative girl you are."

Why not I thought? It would at least give me a direction to my wandering. Besides, I already agreed to sleep with Ralph in payment for the trip. How much extra could this favor possibly cost me?

"I guess so," I answered. "That would be nice. Of course I'd be willing to work out a sort of payment with you," I said, using his term.

His eyes lit-up, even behind the sunglasses. "I was sure you would be cooperative. Herb'll be real pleased to hear about you."

I nodded, non-committally.

I fell asleep for about an hour, and I woke very quietly, not moving and just opening my eyes bare slits. Ralph was sitting closer to me, but still behind the wheel, and he was driving with one hand. The other hand was at his crotch, and he was fondling himself through his green pants. His cock seemed long and thick from the bulged outline, and I felt an involuntary flutter of sexual stirring in my cunt.

I closed my eyes and made believe I was still sleeping, I heard his hand working against his cock, rubbing it up and down. Then my breath sucked in, and I heard the unmistakable grating sound of his zipper opeijjng. I heard another rustle of clothing, and I imagined what was happening. My mind framed an image of his thick blunt cock poking obscenely from the open flap of his zipper.

I wanted to open my eyes, but I was afraid to. Afraid that he would see me and know that I was wide awake. So I sealed my eyes shut and made a soft, purring sound with my breath. But my ears were vividly awake, and I listened with burning excitement to the sound of flesh moving against naked flesh; the sound of a hand moving against a cock.

Then the sound stopped, and I could almost sense that Ralph was leaning towards me. I sucked in my breath in anticipation, and even when he touched me, I had to consciously keep myself from jumping.

I moaned, and made believe I was stirring in my sleep. Ralph's thick meaty hand came down and touched my right breast, softly, gently through the bulging thinness of my shirt. The nipple jumped to immediate life, and he flicked it with his fingernail.

I settled back against the car door, and let him fondle me. It was somehow exciting to allow him to think that he was taking advantage of me. It was a very sexual feeling. I could feel his whole hand pressing against me, softly, gently, afraid to press in too hard for fear that he would awaken me. His fingers lifted my breast into the calloused palm of his hand, and he squeezed into my flesh tenderly. He began to grunt and sigh, and I could hear him rubbing his erection against the base of the steering wheel as he fondled me.

I stirred again, feeling a seeping wetness collecting in the crotch-piece of my jeans. Ralph pulled his hand away, and I could hear him touch his cock. Then more clothing movement, and the sound of a zipper closing.

"Sally..." Ralph called. His voice was a harsh, throaty whisper laced through with a tremble. "Sally..."

I pretended to wake up, sighing and moaning and rubbing my eyes. I yawned. "Did you... call me?" I asked, completely innocent.

A crimson flush had stolen across Ralph's thick face, and the throbbing rigidity of his cock was vividly obvious. It jutted up from his crotch like a tree trunk.

"Yeah..." he began, the flush deepening. "Uh... I-I think I'd like to talk to you now about what we discussed... uh... before."

I pretended not to understand.

"You know... what we said we'd... work out," he said, his voice rising hopefully with the last two words. "You remember, don't you?"

I put my hand up to my mouth. "Oh," I said. "Yes, of course."

He laughed nervously. "I'm kind of... desperate. You know... hot."

I laughed, then I reached across the front seat and touched his cock. He jumped from the contact and let out a small cry of surprise.

"Do you mean you want me to take care of this?" I asked.

He nodded vigorously. "Yeah!"

"You mean right here and now?"

"Ill pull over." And with that, the car swerved off to the right, off the highway and towards the trees. He pulled up short, about thirty feet from the road.

He shut the motor and reached desperately for me. I allowed him to pull me across the front seat, and he kissed me hard on the lips. I pushed my tongue into his mouth, and he began to go crazy. His hands were all over my body, moving from breast to breast, between my legs, then back up to my tits. He unbuttoned the shirt, pulled my tits free, and began to suck them, chewing on the nipples.

I fondled his cock, then opened his zipper and pulled him out. He was enormous. At least eight inches long and as thick as my wrist. His flesh was a nut brown color, even the cockhead, and the shaft was mapped with thick, pulsing veins and arteries. The hair that fluffed from his open fly was speckled with gray. I squeezed into his cock as hard as I could, but I barely dented it. It was like a steel bar.

"Take your pants off," he sighed. My nipples were wet and bright pink from the attention of his mouth. "Please, Sally... take em off!"

I pushed back and looked over Ralph's shoulder at the highway. Traffic wasn't too heavy, and we were reasonably far from it. I doubted whether any one could see us. Unless a police car came over to investigate, but that didn't seem too likely.

I hurried to undress, pulling my pants down my legs. I discarded them into the leg-well of the front seat, then pulled off my top. I was completely naked.

"Christ!" he exploded. He pushed me back, against the door and buried his face between my thighs. I felt his tongue licking my cunt, my hair, pushing through the sweaty flap of my cuntal lips, stroking wetly against the nub of my clit.

"Ohhh," I sighed. Is leaned back even further, resting my head against the cushioned door. I pulled my feet out from under me, parted my thighs, and slung one leg over the back of the seat and placed the other on top of the dash. Now Ralph had a wide open target for his tongue. "Eat me, baby! Come and eat me!"

He nuzzled his face even lower, bending his tongue around, and I felt his breath steaming between the lips of my cunt. His tongue worked feverishly against my clit, then moved down the slippery slit, and stabbed into my cunt hole. His tongue felt as long and as thick as his cock, and I pressed myself hard against his wet mouth. I felt his tongue drive deep into my body.

"Oh... God!" I moaned. I pulled him hard against my cunt, my hands slipping on his sweaty bald head. "Eat me, baby. Eat me!"

He did, driving his tongue in and out of my body so quickly that I almost lost my breath from the quivering tightness of my passion. Then, just as rapidly, he withdrew his thrusting weapon, and slid it back against my anus. I groaned in ecstasy as he drilled the thick wet wedge of his tongue up into my anus.

Fire flashed in my crotch, and while his attention was centered at my anus, my own hands stole from his head, and I began to masturbate myself. The pleasure in my ass licked up and around, in a jagged, circular arc. Then the pleasure I awakened in my clit responded similarly, and a second arc of intense sensation swept down and met the other. They crashed head-on.

"Oh God!" I cried, arching my body up from the car seat. "Oh... Oh... Oh!"

It was a small, sudden, but shattering orgasm.

Ralph withdrew his tongue. His beefy face was red with passion. His mouth was a smear of saliva. "Now me," he said. "Do me, Sally... with your mouth. Suck my cock."

The pleasure was still settling inside of me, but I had to move towards him. It was only fair. He pushed himself back against the door of the car and pulled his green work pants and shorts down his thick, hairy legs. He was naked from the waist down, and his cock and balls were huge between his parted thighs.

I leaned forward, between his legs, and I began to suck his cock. My jaw stretched wide, and then I had to stretch even wider to take in his fantastic width. My lips were stretched in a painfully tight circle.

"That's it," he moaned, jerking his hips up. "Do it! Do it to me, Sally. Do it!"

I felt him shudder as my teeth scraped erotically over the knob of his cockhead. The spongy piece of flesh filled my mouth. I licked my tongue over it, tasting the slightly salty flavor of his sweat. I slipped the tip of my tongue into the opening of the cock, and he shuddered again.

"Oh... yes!" he moaned. His hands came down on my head, holding me in place. "Yes, Sally. Yes!" I pulled myself forward on his body, until I was directly over his cock, and I pushed my face down. The cockhead slid past my teeth and into my mouth. The bulging underside of his shaft crushed my tongue to the floor of my mouth as he drove into me. I tightened my lips around the turgid column of his flesh, to slow his penetration, but his cock moved in without pause, deeper and deeper into my mouth.

"Suck it, baby!" he cried. He pulled his knees back and up, and I fell into the hollow between. His balls dangled heavily between his thighs, against the flattened, hairy muscles of his ass. "Suck my cock, Sally. Suck it!"

I moved my head down, perhaps an inch. My mouth was wide open, pursed and stretched around the walls of his thick shaft, and the head of his cock was moving towards my throat. I pulled my tongue out from under the sliding staff, and I washed it against his swollen cockhead, rolling my tongue over it. I sucked in deeply, drawing my cheeks against the sides of his organ, pressing down with the wet kiss of my mouth. I felt my saliva oozing all over him, bathing him, surrounding his cock in a wet blanket of slime.

He grunted and pushed up, pressing down with his hands. The head of his cock drove back against my throat. My jaws ached from the strain of stretching, and I stabbed my tongue against the tender underside, under the head, making him quiver with pleasure. I could hardly breathe through my mouth, and I had to suck in air through my nose to keep myself from smothering.

"Suck... it... Sally... uhhh!" he moaned. He moved his cock deeper into my mouth. "Suck it."

The brillo-like hair of his crotch scraped against my face, and I sucked hard on his cock, running my saliva over it. The shaft could go no deeper. So I pursed my lips, flattened my tongue along the swollen underside of the organ, and I pulled my head back until the cock began to slide from my mouth. I stopped it when I felt the hard ridge of the crown pressing against my teeth. Then I plunged down again, returning the cock to its previous position, burying it deep inside my mouth.

Ralph began to grunt in obvious pleasure. He lifted his thighs, bringing his cock higher into my mouth. Then, when I began to pull back, he dropped his hips, and after a moment we were coordinating our rhythms. I pushed down and he pushed up; I drew back, and he pulled out. In and out, in and out, in and out, driving the thickness of his cock from the bow of my lips to the hollow of my throat. Fucking my mouth... fucking my mouth with his cock!

"Soon!" he grunted. "Soon."

I began to quiver with passion. I've never sucked a cock to orgasm; never tasted sperm in my mouth before. I was excited and apprehensive. I wanted to pull away, but I knew I wouldn't. I couldn't.

I sucked up hard, steeling myself for his explosion of sperm. I drew on his cock as I might have drawn upon a thick, fleshy straw. Saliva rushed over the sides of his shaft, like racing water, draining down my throat. I rolled my tongue frantically over his cockhead, teasing him, coaxing the sperm up the shaft of his cock.

"Uuhhh!" he groaned. He lifted himself from the car seat, plowing his code as deep into my mouth as it would go. "Very... uh... soon!"

I gripped his balls in my hand, and I squeezed hard into them. He groaned in pleasure, in pain, and drove his cock fiercely in and out, matching the up and down plunge of my sucking face. I slid one finger down from the tightness of his hairy scrotum, and I wriggled it into his anus.

"Oh... God!" he cried. "Now, Sally... now!"

I closed my eyes and began to suck. I felt the sperm pumping down the length of his cock. I felt the cockhead opening against my tongue, and then I felt the first drop of his come in my mouth.

The moment the first drop of sperm touched my tongue, I began to come. Suddenly, unexpectedly, like my last orgasm, ripping into my body with absolutely no preparation. An intense, gripping spontaneous orgasm.

Ralph's sperm splashed against my tongue, oozing from the tip of his cock, and my tongue curled it back, and I sucked it down my throat. The sperm was hot, salty perhaps, but that mighf have been my imagination. His cock throbbed in my mouth, and more and more sperm gushed out, until my mouth was coated in the thick, oozing fluid.

"Suck it!" he grunted, crushing my face to his crotch, "Suck it... I'm coming!"

I swallowed the slippery discharge greedily, undulating my throat as drop after drop rolled into my stomach. I sucked hard and deep, jerking him off with my tongue, running it up and down the underside length of Ralph's pulsing cock. My cheeks puffed out with saliva and puddles of sperm, and I pressed them together, bathing the thick fluid over the length of Ralph's cock, baptizing my mouth.

My own orgasm ripped me to pieces, and my cunt quivered as if there was a cock inside of it, fucking me deeply and powerfully. My clit throbbed, and I could feel the lips quivering spasmodically as the orgasm gripped my cunt in fingers of iron.

Finally, Ralph's cock pumped nothing further, but that didn't stop my greedy mouth. I stroked him with my tongue, stabbing him, digging the tip into the oozy opening, searching for more sperm. My lips chewed into the shrinking shaft, wringing him dry, milking him of every last drop of his orgasm.

His cock popped from my mouth. It was shrunken and small. I swallowed all the remaining goo in my mouth, trembling with excitement as I felt it slide down into my belly.

A single dribble of sperm oozed feebly from the deflated tip of Ralph's cock, and my lips sought it out and drew it up into my mouth. I swallowed it, then tried to suck the tired cock again.

Ralph pushed me away. "No more," he moaned. "Please, it hurts... It's too sensitive."

I fell down against his heavy pillow-like belly and concentrated on the last trembles of my own orgasm. They lasted for almost five minutes.

We stopped in a motel for the night a little later on, and I did it again for Ralph.

It's not so bad, really.

CHAPTER FIVE

Herb Sutton's office was just off Hollywood Boulevard, in a squat-looking skyscraper, very modern looking, that was composed of alternating layers of steel and glass. The glass was tinted a dull green, and the building reminded me of a large, plastic emerald.

The cab pulled up in front of the building, and I paid the driver, tipping him moderately. Ralph had "loaned" me twenty dollars to get me started, and I promised to pay him back as soon as I got some money at my new job. Of course, there was some interest on the loan, a blow-job and a screw, and that was collected in advance and was coupled with the promise that I would not forget all his help once I "had it made", to use his words.

I spent the money very carefully even though I was confident that I'd have no difficulty in getting by. I never realized how resourceful I really was before my solitary trek across the face of America. From New York to Washington, D.C. to California: cost, nothing; gain, twenty-dollars.

The first thing I did with my money was get a place to live. I checked into a small dive of a hotel, The Westphail, that catered to transients. You pay for the room by the day or week. The room was small, but not clean, but I didn't mind too much; it was only a beginning. Once there, I invested a few dollars more, purchased a cheap dress and a hairbrush. That left me with about three dollars, and my cab fare was two-fifty, tip included. So I had fifty cents left and a room that was paid for until eleven o'clock tomorrow morning.

But I was confident. The dress was bright and colorful and it went really well with my sandals. I showered and scrubbed myself down, dried and brushed my hair, and checked myself out in the mirror. My breasts were heavy and full, and if you stared carefully enough, the dark triangle of my crotch could be seen through the thin fabric of the dress. Still, I suspected that that would not be a hindrance; especially if the job I was going for was anything as I had imagined it.

There was a cigar store in the lobby of the green glass building, and I spent half my money on a candy bar. I realized I hadn't eaten all morning. While munching the candy, I wandered over to the building directory and looked for Sutton's name. I found it alphabetically, listed as: HERB SUTTON AGENCIES, INC. and it was located on the sixth floor, room 604.

I felt just the faintest flutter of doubt as I stepped into the plastic elevator, but I fought it back. This is perhaps what I need, I told myself. Maybe what I've needed all along. A job of my own. Independence. A paycheck to spend as I see fit -- on me alone. Not on the house, not for food, and not for bills. But for me. For things I want. For dresses, for clothing, for shoes, for makeup, and maybe even a beauty parlor once in a while. My own money, my own paycheck, and one day my own apartment. A chance to be free. Maybe that's what I need. Perhaps that's what has been missing from my life.

Music played down upon my head from somewhere above me, and I felt the slight tug of the elevator starting its upward journey. I began to think about what I had just told myself.

I never really had very much freedom, I realized. I lived with my parents, went to a city college so I didn't have to travel, and met Peter there, in a Psych class. We got married when we graduated, lived in the Village for a year, then Peter got his promotion, and we bought a house on the Island. I worked that first year after graduation, as a secretary in New York City, but I had to quit when we moved to the Island. We couldn't afford to have us both commute, and besides, I had the house to take care of.

And that was it. My whole life. All of it spent with in a radius of fifty miles or so. I lived in a house, went to school in a house, and got married and went to live in another house. Never on my own, never living alone, never doing anything with my life other than what was expected of me. Fulfilling my role as a woman in American society. From one closet to another.

I tried to think about being on my own, but it was so hard to visualize the concept; it was so alien to my previous way of life. My own paycheck; my own clothing -- bought by myself; my own apartment -- paid for by myself. It was an exciting idea. Freedom. Perhaps, perhaps...

The elevator jerked to a soft stop, and I got off. Room 604 was off to the right, down a wide marble corridor. The entrance was a frosted double glass door, with black stenciling on it. I read the name twice to make sure, then started to knock. I decided not to, and I opened the door and walked in.

It was a small square room beyond, carpeted with a thick green rug that ran from wall to wall. The ceiling was low, with the lighting recessed behind large frosted glass squares. That gave the room a soft, hazy quality. The walls were painted a light green, and the painting and accessories around the room were also green. There were two large rubber plants pushed into the far corners, one on either side of the wall. The chairs and the sofa were brown leather, and the desk in the center of the room was dark walnut. The whole room was a play-off of green and brown, and with the soft hazy light, it somehow reminded me of a jungle or a forest. I wondered if the impression was an accident or the intention of the designer.

The girl in the center of the room, sitting efficiently behind the large square desk was the only thing that was not green or brown. She was tall and cool and pink, with a long dangling shock of ash blonde hair. Her eyes were aqua blue, and she was wearing a powder blue sleeveless dress. She was strikingly beautiful, and she reminded me of my mental images of California.

She smiled as I walked in, but waited patiently until I walked over to her desk. She asked: "Can I help you?"

I smiled back, feeling very conspicuous under her gaze. My confidence oozed away like melting butter. I was sure she knew I was naked under my dress, and I tried to cover over my nipples.

Had Ralph given me a false lead? I wondered, looking around the room in that split second before I answered. It certainly didn't look like what I was expecting; it should have been sleazy, like my hotel room. Was I in the wrong place? Had I misunderstood Ralph?

"I'd like to see Mr. Sutton... please," I said.

She smiled at me with dazzling white teeth that could not have been real. "I see. Do you have an appointment, Miss..." She ran a silver fingernail down the lines of the appointment book on the desk in front of her.

"Bryant. Sally Bryant. No I don't have an appointment."

Her finger stopped moving, like the carriage of an electric typewriter, and she looked up from the book and smiled sympathetically. Her lips were perfectly shaped, and she wore a pale pink lipstick that was as thick and rich and creamy as a paste. I judged she was about twenty-three.

"I'm terribly sorry, Miss Bryant," she began, "but Mr. Sutton is terribly busy today. Perhaps I can make an appointment for you for some time next week..."

Panic stabbed into me. "No... qh!" I said, perhaps louder than I should have. "You don't understand. I have to see Mr. Sutton today. It's very important."

She smiled sadly, sympathetically, pursing her lips. "Gee, I wish there was something I could do..."

I tried to think. I had no money, no place to sleep, nothing to eat... nothing but the clothing I was wearing. "But-but Ralph said he called. He-he..."

A light went on in her blue eyes. "Ralph?"

I grasped at it hopefully. "Yes. Ralph D'Angelo. Ralph D'Angelo. He's a friend of mine. He suggested that I come to speak to Mr. Sutton. For a job."

Her perfect smile blossomed out, and this time I knew it was genuine. "Mr. D'Angelo. Why didn't you say so before. I'm terribly sorry, but I didn't realize."

I sighed in relief. "That's all right."

"I'll speak to Mr. Sutton immediately. Why don't you have a seat for a moment."

I nodded, breathing again, and I walked over to the brown leather sofa and sat down. It was soft and firm and smelled of lemons. It made a soft crushing noise as I settled into it.

The blonde rose from her desk and disappeared through a brown door in the middle of the far green wall, in between the two green rubber plants. The door was marked Private. I looked at her empty desk, and noticed there was a bronzed nameplate in the middle of it. Her name was Miss Mitchell, and I wondered whether it was her real name. It sounded too perfect. Too Hollywood.

The door opened again, and Miss Mitchell stepped out. She left the door open just a crack.

"You can go in now, Sally," she said, calling me by my first name for the first time. "Mr. Sutton is waiting for you." She smiled, dazzling rne with her teeth. "And good luck."

I nodded my thanks, and pushed open the door marked Private. The room beyond was another green and brown square, almost identical to the one I'd left. The concept must have worked, for the decorator decided to carry on the motif. The same green rug and walls, the same low hazy light, the same brown leather sofa in the far corner. Only the desk was different. It was larger and further back, and there was a man sitting behind it.

Herb Sutton was different from what I had been expecting. I'd imagined him to somehow look like Ralph, only much more refined and more businesslike. You know, over fifty, wide flowered tie, mod suit, fat and balding and perhaps rimless tinted sunglasses.

But I was pleasantly surprised. I guessed that he might have been forty, but he was probably less. His dress was comparable to what I had imagined, but it fit his slim tall frame the way a kid glove fits a hand. His suit was deep brown, obviously hand-tailored, with a tan shirt and a bright yellow striped tie. His hair was black and long, his eyes brown, and his handsome face was toasted from long hours under the California sun. His features were sharp and vivid as though his face had been chiseled from a piece of aged mahogany.

He rose to greet me, extending his hand. "Come in, please, Miss Bryant. Have a seat."

His voice was rich and cultured, deep-toned and sexy. He moved his body with all the lightness and grace of an athlete. I settled myself into the brown leather chair across from him, and he sat down.

"How is Ralphi?" he asked, and I thought I caught the slightest hint of a double meaning. "I haven't seen him for ages."

I nodded. "He's... fine. Fine."

Herb Sutton smiled at me, to relax my tension. "I spoke to him on the telephone this morning, and he gave me a very thorough report of your... assets, shall we say. A very thorough and very good report." I felt myself blushing as I imagined what he must have said. "Oh."

"You know, of course, Sally -- you don't mind me calling you Sally, do you?"

"No, no. Of course not, Mr. Sutton."

He held up his hand. "Herb. Herb, please. All right, Sally?"

I nodded. "Fine, Mr. Sut... Herb. Fine."

He sat back in his chair, tilting back. "As you know, Sally, we run a very... unique service business here, and we sometimes have to be very careful about whom we hire. Not that it's illegal exactly, but... Well, you know how Victorian some legislators and law enforcement people can be. They don't seem to have any understanding of how life is changing around them. The whole sexual revolution, for example..."

He went on like that, talking platitudes, never once mentioning what the job was, but hinting around enough to let me know that it wasn't another secretarial position. It seemed to me that he was trying to defend his way of life; as if he were trying to prove to me that he wasn't doing anything wrong or immoral. That seemed very important to him -- to make it and his motivations sound altruistic. Like a public service. I wondered why he needed to legitimatize himself that way? Why he couldn't even be honest with himself?

"Well, what exactly is the job?" I asked impatiently.

"Didn't Ralph tell you?"

"Not in so many words. Not exactly." He was holding a pencil in his hands, twirling it as he leaned back. He looked at me over the top of the pencil as if studying me. He flipped the pencil on his desk, then sat forward, leaning towards me conspiratorially.

"Sally," he said, "you're a very attractive young woman. And as such, you can make an enormous amount of money if you are willing to... sleep with our clients for pay."

Even in describing it, I thought, he had to clean it up, I don't have to fuck with them, only sleep with them. A very fine distinction.

Expecting that kind of an answer, that type of job, I didn't hesitate in accepting. "All right. I'm willing."

He studied me again. "You understand, of course, what you are agreeing to?"

I said I did.

"And you'll have no compunctions, no second thoughts?"

"No, I don't think I will."

He nodded gravely several times. "All right, you're hired." He leaned across his huge desk and depressed the button on his intercom. "Miss Mitchell, would you come in here, please."

I sat back in my chair, and realized my knees were shaking. My breasts were hard, and I could feel my cuntlips sticking together.

"You understand, of course," he said, playing with the pencil on his desk, "that we do have to... test you first. You know, to make sure that you are capable of... performing to our standards."

He made it sound as if I had to take a typing test, but I was half expecting some kind of trial examination. I didn't think they would buy sex without first... trying the product, to use Herb's terms. I accepted this condition also. "I guess that's only fair. When is this test going to take place?"

"Right now," he said, rolling the pencil. "Right now, Sally."

My cunt throbbed, and I began to imagine what Herb looked like naked. I wondered how long and fat his cock was.

"Are you going to test me... personally?" I asked, trying to be sexy.

Herb dropped the pencil. "Certainly not," he said. "That is not one of my functions." He seemed insulted.

The door opened, and Miss Mitchell, the ash blonde beauty from the outer room, walked in. She closed the door behind her, then locked it. She said: "I locked the front door too." Herb nodded. "Very good, Patti." Then, turning to me, he said: "Sally, why don't you take your clothing off. I want you to make love to Patti."

I felt my stomach rise up, then sink very heavily. I felt numb. "Wh-what?" I asked.

Herb gave me a very cold long stare. "Do you object, Miss Bryant?"

In my whole life, I have never made love with another woman. I have never so much as kissed another woman with any degree of passion, much less sexual intent. To be honest, however, I have thought about it, and found myself tamed on to the idea because of its perversity, but never, never would I ever have dreamed of doing more than thinking about it. Up to this moment, that is.

In the split-second I had for reflection, I had to make my decision. I was apprehensive to be sure, but I was also excited and fascinated by the prospect of making love to a woman. To touch a breast, a cunt that was not rny own... I found myself quaking in anticipation. My mouth tasted hot and sweaty. The nipples on my breasts pushed out the front of my dress like twin marbles. I rubbed my hand against my thigh. My palm was suddenly sweating.

"No," I said finally, "of course I don't mind. I was just... surprised. I thought I..."

Herb finished for me. "Thought you were going to make love to me?" He laughed softly. "No, no, Sally. Women just aren't my... thing."

What a waste, I thought. What an incredible waste.

"Now if we can begin?" he asked. He settled back in his chair, pushing it back, away from the desk. I rose up slowly, still uasure. My knees were trembling. I turned towards Patti, and I got my second shock of the morning. She was sitting on the edge of the brown leather sofa. Her pale blue dress was gone, and she was sliding her jpanties down her long, slender legs. Then, a moment later, she stood, completely naked.

My breath sucked in loudly, but I didn't care. Patti was unbelievably beautiful. Her body was tall and slender, her breasts full and hard, touched off with broad pink nipples. Her waist pinched in and her stomach was flat. She had long, long legs, round and soft, like columns of ivory. Her flesh was a creamy color, smooth and supple and velvety. The mound of her crotch was like the smallest wisp of a V, and it was covered with pale blonde, almost white down-like hairs. I saw suddenly that ash blonde was not her natural color, but it didn't matter. I was transfixed by her stark beautjc. "Aren't you going to undress, Sally?" Herb asked. Reluctantly I pried my eyes from Patti's nakedness. "What? Oh yes. Yes, of course. Right... now." I noticed my hands were trembling as I parted my dress. I could feel their eyes racing across my nakedness as the silky material whispered to the green rug, but I didn't care. I was excited, sexually excited by the knowledge of what I was going to do. Before I left thisjroom, I will have made love to a woman... I will have made love to Patti!

"Look at that," Herb whispered. "Look at that! Looks like Sally came prepared. Nothing on but the dress."

Patti ran her hand over her breasts, cupping one. She lifted it and pulled it up towards her mouth. She bent her head down, and I watched her tongue flick across the stiffening tip of her nipple.

"Ohhh," she moaned. "That feels good. Why don't you come and do it for me, Sally? Please. Come and suck my titties, Sally."

As if I were in a dream, I found myself moving towards her. The bristling softness of the rug brushed against the bottom of my naked feet. My thighs quivered with bubbling passion.

Patti settled on the sofa, opening her legs and sitting back against the cushions. She parted her thighs wide, and I could see the lips of her cunt pulling slowly apart, as if they were sticky with excitement. She cupped her tit again, the one with the wet nipple, and she offered it to me. "Come and make love to me, Sally," she said. With her other hand she patted the side of the sofa next to her. "Come and make love to me."

The cool firm leather of the sofa felt like ice against my burning flesh as I slid onto the cushion, next to Patti. She greeted me with her arms open, as a male lover might, and I slid under her arms and pressed my nakedness against hers. Her mouth was open and waiting, and I kissed her.

"Good... good!" Herb whispered. Then he grunted. "Good!"

Patti's mouth was soft and wet, and she kissed me with a gentleness that took my breath away. She moved her tongue like a snake, prying, open my lips, and she sunk it deeply into my mouth. I sucked on it hard, as I might such on a cock, draining it of the sweet, heady taste of her femininity.

I heard a rustling of clothing off in the distance, from the desk. Then a moaning sound. "Yeah... yeah!"

Unlike my tits, hers were small and firm. My own larger, swollen orbs brushed against hers, the nipples tingling, and I cried out as the electricity of the contact surged into my body. Patti's hand came down and squeezed into my tit, and in return, I grabbed one of hers.

"You're big," she moaned, pulling her mouth from my lips. "I like a woman with big titties." She moaned, and squirmed against the sofa. "Oh, squeeze them! Squeeze them, Sally!"

Her hand was driving me insane with pleasure. The softness of her hand, the smallness of her size, tile tender pressure of her grip was so unlike anything I've ever felt in my life. I pressed my breast firmly into her hand and kissed her hard again on the mouth. My fingers tightened into her small hard tit, and I flicked her nipple.

"Uh... uh!" Herb grunted.

With the pressure of her arm behind my neck, Patti broke off the kiss by bringing my head down, pressing it against her nakedness.

"Suck them, Sally!" she cried, straining up towards me. "Suck them... my tits!"

My lips were trembling and my mouth was dry as I slid them across the gentle curves of her neck and shoulder. Her flesh tasted warm and delicate, soft, and it was strange not to feel the tickle of hair against my nose. I slid my tongue from between my lips when I reached the base of her tit. Patti shuddered and gripped my hair as I began to slide up the breast, searching for her nipple.

"Suck... them," Herb echoed weakly. "Suck... them!"

Patti's nipple slid softly into my mouth, and I pursed my lips around it. My head was spinning wildly, and my eyes had difficulty focusing. I couldn't believe what I had in my mouth, between my lips... Patti's nipple!

"Suck it, Sally," she urged, squeezing my breast with tightening fingers. "Please... Please."

The nipple felt odd in my mouth, unlike anything I've ever felt before. It was hard, yet firm, soft and tender, but pulsing. I licked my, tongue over it, starting at the base, then up and over, until I was licking the other side. Then back again, over the throbbing nub of flesh. I stiffened my tongue, and began to beat it against the nipple, in short, rapid strokes.

"Oh... God!" Patti moaned. "God, Sally... God!"

My cunt was oozing all over the cold leather seat of the sofa, and I ground my thighs together, bringing pressure against the clitoris. I rubbed up and down, moaning from the pleasure I was bringing to myself.

"Beautiful..." Herb moaned. "Beautiful!"

I tightened my lips around the tip of the nipple, and I dabbed down with my tongue. I tried to push the nipple back into the soft hill of pink flesh, bury it inside of her tit with the shoving wedge of my tongue. It slipped up and oozed into my mouth, hot and throbbing.

"Ohhh," she moaned. "My cunt, Sally. Please... do my cunt. Touch it!"

I got up on one knee, leaning over her, with my mouth fastened to the end of her tit, and I slid my hand down over Patti's flat belly. She hunched up, lifting her hips, and she pressed her cunt into my hand.

"Oh... God!" she moaned, spreading her thighs. "God!"

"Uuhhh!" Herb cried. "Uh..."

Patti's cunt was incredibly wet, sopping wet. My hand slid across the soft silk of her pubis, over the curve of the mound, then down and under, between her thighs. I pressed into her damp soft flesh, spreading the oozing lips until my fingers were digging into her body. The burning ember of her clit jumped to immediate life under my hand as I opened the flap of her lips, and I pressed down onto it with my fingertips.

"Oh... yes," she cried. She hunched up against my hand, driving her body against my palm. "Oh... yes!"

I began to roll the slippery bud, my fingers slipping in the wetness of her slit, and Patti began to writhe excitedly. She dropped her hand from my soft, large tit, and she buried it in the sopping wetness of my cuntal folds. She touched my clit as I was touching hers, and we began to masturbate each other, each working and responding in a sympathetic tempo of mutual pleasure.

I heard something moving off in the distance, across the room. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Herb standing. His pants were gone, and he was naked from the waist down. He still had his jacket and shirt on, and the long tails of material hung obscenely down his body. His cock was long and thick and erect, and he was jerking himself off savagely. He began to move towards us, stroking himself as he walked.

"Uh... uh!" he grunted. "Beautiful... Beauti-ful!"

My fingers slid from the high curve of Patti's cunt, down the slick path between her lips, and I stabbed the fingers into her cunt. She jumped with pleasure, as if I had impaled her with a dildo. The inside of her cunt was flaming hot, oozing her wet excited juices all over my hand.

She responded with a similar reaction, driving two of her slender fingers deep into the tight lining of my box. I pressed back against her hand, squeezing my cuntal muscles around the invading hardness. Patti drove the fingers in and out, fucking me with her hand.

"Oh... my... God!" I groaned, spinning with passion. Sweat oozed from every pore of my naked body, drenching me until I was slippery with excitement. Every fiber of my being was quivering with pleasure, and I twisted around against Patti, hunching my gripping cunt against her hand.

Inches away from us, I could see Herb. His cock was a blur of color inside of the pumping hollow of his fist. His balls danced up and down as if they were on a string between his muscular, hairy thighs.

"Sixty-nine!" he grunted. I could hear the slap of his hand against his straining belly, the slide of his cock through his fist. "Patti... Sally... Sixty-nine!"

Like two halves of a circle, we screwed around, twisting our sweaty, naked bodies against each other. I wound up on the bottom, my perspiring back sticking to the adhesive tightness of the leather sofa. Patti was above me, with her thighs parted, and her cunt coming down into my mouth. I reached up for the twin moons of her ass, and I pulled her to me, my mouth open.

"Eat me!" Patti moaned. I could feel her mouth against my cunt, her tongue between the lips. "Eat me, Sally. Eat me! Eat my cunt!"

And then, for the first time in my life, I tasted a cunt.

"Oh Jesus!" I cried, hearing my exclamation reverberate in the sweaty hollow between Patti's thighs. "Ohhhhh!"

I could feel the tight folds of Patti's cunt opening around the point of my tongue. I could feel the wetness of her oozing cunt spreading across my face like a sexual mist. I could taste the heat of her body, the sweat of her body, the thick rolling juices of her creaming pussy as I drove my tongue deep inside of her. The raunchy, sexual fish-like smell of her cunt filled my nostrils, making me dizzy with the sweetness of the aroma.

"Soon!" Herb groaned. I could hear his body straining, bending, arching out, pointing his loaded cock towards us as he pulled himself closer and closer to orgasm. "God... Jesus... I'm gonna come!"

My hands tightened around the muscles of Patti's ass. I dug my fingers into her and pulled her cunt directly against my face. My nose slipped between the inner lips of her cunt, and I drilled my tongue up the tight, slippery passageway inside of her. I could feel the throbbing hardness of her exposed clit as it rubbed against my bobbing chin.

Patti began to groan, rolling her head from side to side, stabbing me with her tongue and grinding her cunt hard against my mouth. Then her body tensed, and she dropped her weight against my face. She began to quiver, and I knew she was coming.

She transferred her excitement to me, like an electrical circuit: from her bunt, up her body, out her mouth, through her tongue, and into my clit. She flicked the love button rapidly, cruelly, expertly, with swift rapier-like darts and stabs and licks and slaps. Her tongue trembled with the emotion of her orgasm, and she laid it against the sensitive arousal of my clit, sending those vibrations up inside of me until my cunt felt like a raw, exposed nerve.

Sensations that I never knew could possibly exist rolled up from my cunt like waves engulfing my body in a searing tide of orgasm. My body began to quake and I felt myself slipping down, under, drowning in the sensation of coming.

"I'm... coming!" Herb screamed. "I'm coming!"

I felt his sperm splash on my body, like boiling oil splattering from a frying pan. My body blistered in pleasure as the thick, oozing slime gushed across my writhing nakedness. Spreading, oozing, coating me with the thick milky white heat of his orgasm.

Patti moaned, going higher and higher. My orgasm reached out for hers, locked together, and went soaring out of existence in a painfully blinding white flash.

Is this it? I wondered. A woman? Is this it?

CHAPTER SIX

The Geisha was a very special kind of massage parlor. The cheap, sleazy atmosphere of the earlier parlors was completely gone. In its place was an almost opulent material splendor. Literally thousands of dollars was spent on the decor. Every floor, even its many bathrooms, was carpeted with a thick, wall to wall rug of vivid, electric blue. The walls and the ceilings had a clean, wholesome look, and were painted a stark, brilliantly airy white. Throughout the house, the fixtures were all either crystal or silver or gold. Even the furniture was totally new: the most modem, most expensive that money could buy. The Geisha was a pleasure palace that ensnared your sensuality before it attacked your sexuality.

Perhaps the most innovative aspect of the Geisha was its location: it was no storefront on some wide city street. The Geisha was an entire house, located far from the city, out in the middle of two acres of beautiful green rolling hills, at the foot of a mountain. You just didn't drop in at the Geisha. You came by appointment.

We catered to a very special class of clientele: businessmen, executives, film people, politicans, and millionaires. People who were used to the best of everything, and were willing to pay to receive that special kind of attention. While waiting, they could sit around and relax in a kind of atmosphere they were used to. They could have a drink, even a meal if they wanted. There was a swimming pool, showers, and a tennis court. I think they could have even probably gotten a massage if they wanted.

But mostly there was sex. Sex of all kinds, very expensive, and on a very elegant, sophisticated level.

I was driven out to the Geisha by Mr. Sutton, personally. I was given a room where I slept, and my own private room where I worked. The first week I was there, I did nothing but go to classes. Classes on how to talk, how to act, and how to treat our very special guests. The following week, I began my new job.

I was very popular that first week. Since I had no appointments because I was new, I was introduced to all our guests as the Geisha's latest hostess, to keep me in mind for future appointments. Naturally, when all those horny men saw a new cunt, they all wanted to dip their cock into me, "testing the water," as one aptly put it. I made over seven hundred dollars in my first week.

The second week was slow since the novelty of my newness had worn off. I made less than two hundred dollars. I should explain that I received no salary from the Geisha for working there outside of my room to sleep in, and food to eat. My whole salary consisted of tips from the guests. They were called "tips", but actually there was a carefully worked out schedule of payment for every type of sexual act, and the girls were paid accordingly, depending on what their guest wanted them to do. A straight fuck was so much, a blow-job was a little more, the attention of two girls was even more, and so on.

I kept all my "tips", and the guests at the Geisha aid an annual attendance fee for tne right to be a member of this very exclusive club.

In the boredom of the second week, I had plenty of time to wonder about what happened to me that morning with Patti. The perspective of the two weeks suggested that the expansive feeling of ecstasy I had experienced might have only been a result of the newness of the act: you know, my first Lesbian encounter.

So I tried an experiment. I got friendly with another girl, Glori, who was a self-avowed Lesbian, working here only for the money. We went to my room one quiet afternoon, and we made love, slowly, tenderly, and with a great deal of experimentation. We did everything two women could do together sexually, even fuck each other with a dildo. I came that afternoon, perhaps a dozen times, but the magic of that first unique time with Patti simply was not there. It was good, and I really turned on to lesbian lovemaking, but it was not what I needed. It was not what I'd been looking for.

But I enjoyed my job, despite this single drawback. I enjoyed the sexual outlet it provided me, naturally, and I enjoyed the freedom it allowed me. I had one day off a week, to go and come as I pleased, no questions asked. I was never asked how much I made, and no one ever told me how to work or how to take care of my business. Sure I did live there, but I was really on my own for the first time in my life. I looked at my sleeping quarters as no more than a hotel I, might have been living at. I was on my own, with no ties to the past and no obligations to the future. I was a free woman.

It was nearly two o'clock, time for my first appointment of the day. Benson Kores was his name, a man I'd never met. My name was suggested to him from a friend of his, a satisfied customer from my first prolific week. I asked around about him to some of the girls, and I found out that he was a very famous motion picture producer, although I'd never heard of him. I hurried to my room to prepare for the appointment.

Like all the other work rooms in the Geisha, mine was identical. A perfectly square room, painted sfe rk white, with high ceilings, also painted white. The floor was covered with the same electric blue rug that stretched from one end of the house to the other. There was a black, leather-topped massage table in the center of the room, and off to one corner there was a bed. Two or three mirrors decorated the antiseptic whiteness of the walls.

I closed the door behind me, and checked myself in the mirror. I took off my kimono, the standard garment all girls wore at the Geisha, and I sprayed myself strategically with an expensive perfume. Then I put on a clean kimono, and brushed my hair in place.

A moment later there was a knock on my door.

That was one of the better, more sophisticated aspects of the Geisha. Unlike a whorehouse, we were not permitted to hang around so that the client could make his selection. The appointment was set, the guest arrived, the girl remained in her room, and then the guest was escorted to her room. Very elegant, very classy.

I parted the door and peeked out. He was standing there.

I said: "Good morning, Mr. Kores. Won't you come in, please?"

He was an older man than I'd expected. Tall and gaunt-looking, thin-faced, thin-lipped, with dark hollows for eyes. His hair was a colorless shade, and lay like dead string on top his skull-like head. He was dressed in dark, somber clothing, like an embalmer, or a mortician. He smiled brittily, as if he was afraid his lips would crack. I guessed he was forty-five to fifty, but it was difficult to really say for sure. He might have been one hundred for all I knew.

"How do you do," he said, formally, with the faintest touch of a British accent shadowing the quality of his speech. "Please call me Benson, Miss..."

"Bryant," I said, cutting in. "I'm sorry. Sally Bryant."

I closed the door behind him and locked it. He stood stiffly in the center of the room, not turning, not looking around, not moving. I walked around in front of him. He stared hard and long at my face, cocking his head to side slightly, as if he were listening to something.

"New York!" he said suddenly. "Right?"

I didn't understand. "I-I..."

"You come from New York City, right?"

Now it was my turn to stare. "Do I know you?" I asked apprehensively.

He laughed, a loud explosive cackle. "New York City, am I right?"

"Yes, but..."

He laughed again. "Hah! I knew it. I never fail."

"But how? I don't understand..."

"Your voice, pussycat," he said. "The way you speak. I have a very acute ear."

I sighed in relief. "You had me frightened there for a moment, Mr. Kores."

He held up his hand. "Benson! Benson, pussycat. Don't forget again."

I nodded and said I wouldn't.

"What part of New York City?" he wanted to know.

I told him, and a momentary frown of disappointment registered on his frozen face when I told him that I lived on Long Island. But then it went away when I assured him that I had lived in the City all my life before I got married.

"Did you work in the New York place?" he asked.

Again I didn't understand what he was talking about. "What other... place?"

"The other Geisha," he said. "The New York Geisha. They have another one identical to this in New York City. In the Seventies somewhere. In a brownstone. Did you work there before you came out here?"

"No, I didn't. I didn't even know they had one in New York. This is my first... job of this kind."

Something glinted in his eye. "Is it now, pussycat? How do you like it?"

I shrugged. "It's... good, I guess. The money and all."

"What about the sex?" he asked. "Do you like to get fucked, Sally? Do you enjoy having many cocks shoved into your hot little pussy?"

I blushed. "That, too, I guess..." I answered, flustered. "It's all right."

He clapped his hands together gleefully. "Why you're blushing," he said, real emotion in his voice for the first time. "How positively unique. You really are new in this business, aren't you?"

I nodded, gulping back the blush, blushing deeper because he had caught me at it. "I guess so."

He settled against the massage table, crossing his legs and leaning back. I stood in the middle of the floor, feeling very uncomfortable and very naked.

"Does that bother you?" he asked. "I mean my using terms like fuck and cock and cunt?"

"No, I don't think so. It's just that I wasn't prepared for it, that's all."

"But you're still blushing, pussycat. Imagine that: a prudish hooker. A sensitive whore." He laughed deeply and gleefully, and I found it obscene.

"I think we might as well get down to work," I said, turning from him, from my own embarrassment. "It's getting late..."

"This is work, pussy cat," he said, turning me around. "This is what I want. Talk dirty to me, Sally."

I looked at him. "What?"

"You heard me: talk dirty to me. Say obscene things. Say things like: 'I love to suck big black cocks' and 'suck my hairy cunt'. You know -- talk dirty."

His hand was still on my shoulder, and I pulled slightly back, away from it. It slipped off, and slid down the front of my body, across my breasts. I shuddered from the contact.

"You're not joking, are you?" I asked. "You really want me to do this."

"You can bet your Goddam cunt I do, pussycat," his voice had somehow gotten harder, almost distant.

"Now talk dirty to me, Sally. I'm going to jerk myself off, and you are going to make me come from just talking. I may even come all over you." He laughed, obviously pleased with the idea. "Now start talking."

Something cold touched me. I grasped desperately for an idea. I didn't mind fucking or making love, but this... this was perverted. Obscene.

"But the money," I objected. "The schedule. This isn't listed. I wouldn't know what to charge you."

He reached his hand into his side pocket and pulled out a thick roll of bills. He peeled two bills off and threw them at me. He said: "Is one hundred dollars enough?"

The money fluttered down my body, like leaves dying in autumn. I didn't stoop to pick them up. I left them there, on the floor.

He unzipped his pants and pulled out his erect cock. "Now start talking," he said, pulling his fist up and down the length of the slender shaft. The joke had gone out of his voice. "And take your kimono off. I want you to be naked."

I stared at him, trying to judge his reaction if I refused. I didn't think it would be pleasant. At the very least I would probably be fired. And then what? Where would I go? I wasn't ready to make so radical a move so soon. I had gotten used to security again, and I was more than just a little intimidated.

"AH right," I said. I began to unbutton the kimono. "If you want... sure. Sure I'll talk."

I slipped out of the silky dress and stood naked in front of him. I touched my breasts and caressed my cunt, watching the reaction in his eyes.

"Ooohhh! That feels nice," I moaned. "I'm hot... my pussy, my cunt is very hot. Wet. Juicy."

"More!" he said, strolcing himself, watching me. "More. And obscene... vile... dirty!"

"You have a wonderful cock," I said. I began to masturbate myself, pressing my hand against the broad hairy mound of my cunt, I pushed my legs apart and stood flat-footed. "A wonderful cock. Would you like me to touch it? Would you like me to... suck it?" I reach for him.

"No." He slapped my hand away. "Just talk. Don't touch me. Just talk to me."

Despite my initial lack of enthusiasm, my cunt began to respond to the manipulations of my hand. My clitoris stiffened to rigid attention, pushing open the lips with its hardness, and something wet was sliding down the clinging canal of my vagina, lubricating the labia. I worked my fingers around slowly, systematically, and pleasure began to rise up my body, making my breasts hard.

"It's starting to feel... good," I said, being honest for the first time. "Pleasurable, I mean. The first real sexual sensations."

Benson's hand worked slowly up and down. Somehow his being fully clothed, with his cock just poking from his open zipper, made the act seem so much more erotic. If was as if we were doing something dirty: like two children playing doctor.

"Good," he said. A film of sweat broke out on his forehead. I think he sensed the subtle change in my composure. "Very... good."

"I can feel the pleasure in my cunt... It's warm, pleasant. And my tits are hard. The nipples feel like they're... tingling."

"More... grosser. Dirtier!"

"My cunt is very wet now. I can feel myself opening. The pleasure is building." My arm was beginning to ache, and my back was straining from standing. I said: "I feel like I would like to fuck now. I wish you were fucking me right this moment."

"Uh," he said. He licked his top lip with his tongue. His hand jerked steadily up and down. "Do you like to fuck, Sally? Answer me honestly now."

The lips were wide open, flapping loosely, and my cunt glistened with moisture. My fingers kept slipping off the nub of my clit as my fingers made a sticky, wet sound.

"Yes... I do. I like to fuck very much. I like to fuck with many... many men. I enjoy the feel of different sized cocks in my... pussy."

He swallowed heavily, and the tempo of his hand picked up slightly. "Do you like to suck cocks? Drink sperm?"

The pleasure grew more intense, and I groaned. "Yes, yes... I do. Sperm tastes hot in your mouth, did you know that? They say it doesn't have any taste, but that's not so. It tastes... hot. Salty. It's like when you lick a sweaty body... that kind of a taste."

My thighs began to quiver, and sweat began to collect between my breasts. My back and arm ached from the strain, but the intensity of the pleasure kept me from stopping, or even slowing my pace. I was no longer an unwilling pawn, I realized. I was participating. And what's more, I was enjoying it.

"Do you know what I discovered the first time a man shot his come in my mouth?" I asked, remembering Ralph.

Benson grunted. He smiled. He stroked himself. "No... what?"

"I found that all those fuck books tell lies... sperm doesn't gush or shoot from the tip of a man's cock. It sort of... oozes out... slow and steady."

He was stroking himself deeply now, from the base of his cock down to the tip, then back again. He was leaning heavily against the massage table, with his legs straight out in front of him, stiff and straining.

"I didn't... know that," he said, grunting with pleasure. "That's good... very good."

I could feel the thick pasty discharge of my excitement running down my inner thighs. My hips were bent out, tipped towards him, almost parallel to his cock. It was as though we were fucking, three feet apart, without ever once having touched each other.

"I am a very horny woman," I confessed. "Although most of the time while I was married I was faithful to my husband. But I've always been fend of... preoccupied with sex, and I used to do... strange things."

His cock was almost stark white, colorless, and it bobbled stiffly as he jerked it off. "Like what, for example."

"I used to masturbate a great deal," I confessed. "I guess a lot of women do... home alone all day in a big empty house... waiting for your husband to come home. You know there is only so much house work you can do..."

"Tell me about that," he grunted. "Tell me about the times you... jerked yourself off."

Sweat was dripping into my mouth, and I licked it away with my tongue. "Most of the times I did it the regular... normal way. You know... on the bed, or in the bathroom, with iny feet up on the edge of the tub... But sometimes... sometimes I did it differently."

"How?" he asked tensely. "How?"

"I used to practice... shooing things into my cunt. You know like pencils or hairbrush handles... Then I began to use larger things... like carrots or bananas... I tried a cucumber once, but it was too wide..."

He was grunting as if he were straining. "Good... goodl I can... see it. In my mind..."

"Once I shoved a bottle of warm soda up my cunt... I shook the bottle first... then squatted down on it... sinking it into my pussy. The gas in the soda bubbled over... violently, furiously... and gushed out into my cunt. It was like a thousand cocks all coming at the same time... It was... wild. I could feel the bubbles... the foam... inside of me. I came from just doing that."

Benson's hand was moving rapidly now. He wiped the sweat off of his face with his free hand. "Good... more! More!"

My back was breaking, and my forearm felt like it was going to cramp. But there was a fire in my cunt, a very real, very hot fire. I didn't want to stop.

I strained my brain to remember all the vile, all the obscene sexual things I've ever done in my life. I dredged them up, welled them up from the forgotten corners of my memory, and exposed them, vomited them out all over my perverse, straining nakedness.

"Once," I said, between groans of pleasure, "once I was very hot... very horny, and I didn't know what to do. I wanted to do something special... something dirty."

"What?" he groaned, wringing his cock with his hand. "What did you do?"

"I took all my clothing off," I said, remembering, feeling the shame flush my face, burning like my roaring passion until I couldn't tell one from the other. "I lay down on my bed... picked up the telephone... and made an obscene telephone call to a man."

"Oh God!" Benson moaned. Sweat had soaked through his dark shirt. "Tell me about it, Sally. Tett me about it!"

"I kept on dialing until I got a man... and then I began to talk dirty to him. I told him what I was doing. I told him I wanted to fuck him. I made him tell me how big... how long his cock was... And all the while I was talking, I was masturbating myself."

"What... then? What happened then?"

"I made a date with him to meet him... so he could fuck me. I could hear him getting very excited. I began to fantasize about him in my mind. And then I began to come."

"Yes... yes... yes?" His voice kept on getting higher and higher and higher.

"And then... then the worst part." I moaned in shame, in passion. "Oh, I can't tell you, it's too... too..."

"Tell me, Sally. Please... tell me."

"And then... when I was coming... when I was coming, I took the phone... the receiver... and pushed it up against my cunt... I came all over it... while he was listening... My cunt... my coming cunt, all over the telephone receiver... trying to push it up inside of me!"

"My... God!" I saw Benson's body tremble. His pumping hand was a blur. "Did you keep your date with him? The man on the phone? Did you fuck with him, Sally?"

I was using the heel of my hand now, pressing it hard against my cunt because my fingers kept slipping off. I dug in hard, pressing down with my wrist, grinding the wet folds of my cunt against the blunt hardness. There was a knot of excitement in the pit of my stomach, and I began to concentrate on it, surprised that I was so close to orgasm.

"No... no," I said, shaking my head. "I went there... to the place where I was supposed to meet him. I saw him even. He was young... very good-looking. I saw that he had a hardon through his pants. But I chickened out... I got cold feet. I went home and masturbated again. I had an unbelievable orgasm. Fantastic one."

He moaned in disappointment. "You should have, Sally," he groaned, shaking his head. "You should have fucked him!"

I swayed from side to side, my knees weak, my thighs like quivering jello. "I wanted to... but... but..."

"More, Sally, more!" he cried. He was getting close himself, I could tell. "Tell me more... dirtier things."

Pleasure began to course up and down my body, from my feet rooted like trees in the blue rug, up through my straining, sweating body, and exploding into my head. My body began to prepare for an orgasm.

"I used to do crazy things sometimes... Like go shopping in a skirt and not wear panties... Purposely not wear them because I found it exciting... sexually exciting. I used to fantasize that someone... some man might accidentally see up my skirt... see my naked cunt."

"I can see your naked cunt, Sally!" Benson cried, staring at it, jerking off violently. "I can see your cunt, Sally!"

I began to groan, closing my eyes because the pleasure inside of me was too sharp, too glaring, too bright. I closed my mouth, I shut my eyes, I held my breath, I tensed my muscles: it was as if I were trying to contain the pleasure, prevent it from escaping, giving it a chance to build up high enough, volatilely enough, like the bottle of soda I once shoved into my pussy, so that it would gush up inside of me and bring on my orgasm.

A memory, a long forgotten, long forbidden memory came suddenly back to me. It startled me with its vividness, with its perversity. My cunt began to quiver excitedly. It was something I've never told anyone in my life. Not anyone. Not even Peter.

"Once," I said, straining my hand against my cunt, "once I did something on the subway, in New York City."

Benson moaned: "Soon, soon!"

"You know how crowded it is on the subways... how some men like to take advantage of the crowds... by brushing up against women... by grabbing their cunts or ass or tits..."

"Yes... yes!" he moaned. "Yes!"

"Once... when I was young... about nineteen... I used to get excited when that happened to me... sexually excited. Aroused very... very much."

"Soon, soon!" he grunted, pulling his rigid cock violently. "Soon!"

I fought against my own pleasure, tried to delay it, hold it back until the last possible moment. I fought to control myself, to think straight, to say the words correctly. My whole body was quaking with excitement.

"I used to get so excited that I would purposely wait for the most crowded train... push my way in... and wait until someone began to feel me up!"

Sweat poured down his face. His eyes were closed and he was straining desperately. "Mo... uh... re! More, Sally. More!"

"I-I once let a man put his hand on my cunt... under my skirt... inside of my panties."

"Oh... God... I'm... going... to... come!"

"He did that to me... put his finger inside of me... in my cunt... fingering me on the crowded subway... and I-I..."

"What, Sally... What?"

"I touched him!" I began to moan. I could taste the pleasure in my mouth. "I put my hand... down his pants! I touched his cock..."

"Now... now!"

My hand was a swirling blur against my cunt.

"... and while he fingered me... my cunt... I jerked him off!"

"I'm coming, Sally," he cried. "I'm coming!"

The sperm began to gush from the tip of Benson's cock, spitting across the room at me. Thick, swirling white blobs. Hot. Hot. Hot!

"We came," I moaned. My orgasm was screaming in my ears. "We came... on the crowded subway... his finger in my cunt... my hand on his cock... jerking him off. Sperm... sperm all over my hand... all over his pants... Hot... So wet! The first time I've ever felt it...! Oh my God, I'm coming!"

I pushed down with my cunt, straining against the orgasm as if it were an abrasive friction rubbing up between my parted thighs. A quivering blob of sperm splashed against my thigh, landed on my belly, burned into the hair on my crotch.

"I can feel it," I groaned, standing, coming like crazy. "I can feel your sperm, Benson. I can feel your sperm on my body!"

My back was screaming, pain fused with pleasure. My arm began to cramp, and my knees began to crumble. Pleasure soared up and down inside of me, like some crazy sexual elevator, going up and down, up and down, up and down until it blew the top of my head right off.

I stumbled and fell, first to one knee, then all the way down until I was lying flat on the rug. My fingers twirled the bud of my clit, splashing through the sperm that dripped from my cunt.

I lay there for a very long time on the electric blue rug. I had two fingers buried deep inside of my cunt. Standing over me, milking his cock, was Benson Kores, still fully dressed. And every once in a while, another spurt of sperm would drip from his cock, and land hotly on my naked back.

CHAPTER SEVEN

I lasted at the Geisha for about a month after my session with Benson Kores. The experience was a good one, and I made a great deal of money, most of which I did manage to save, but in the end, the Geisha was just another house, another trap that I had led myself into. It was no different, really, than all the other houses I've spent my life in, from my parents home, to school, to the house I lived in with my husband, Peter. Another trap, another snare, another false illusion of promise, of freedom, that was as false and as deceiving as all the rest of the world. There was no more happiness there, no more freedom there, than there was in anything else I've looked very carefully at. It was a big, phony lie -- with golden doorknobs, silver trimmings, electric blue rugs and crystal chandeliers. But no real, lasting happiness: only the illusion of freedom.

Oh, sure, I did have some freedom: certainly more than I ever had as a housewife back in my suburban Long Island home. I could come and go pretty much as I pleased, buy what I wanted with my own money, work in a job that I picked, and I decided how I would perform that job, but the freedom, the real freedom just wasn't there. I did, after all, work for someone. I did work for the Geisha, for Herb Sutton. I still wasn't, my own boss.

So I moved on. I had a substantial amount of money saved, enough to get me started, enough to get me an expensive apartment and a complete new wardrobe of fashionable clothing, but mostly, I had a chance to begin again my search. It was out there -- somewhere -- I knew. All I had to do was find it. Find it!

Logically, the next step after the Geisha would have to be something that provided me the kind of money I was used to, the taste of freedom that I had savored, and the important need to do for myself. To be my own boss. In a sense, the final step of my liberation.

I became a prostitute.

And that to me was freedom. A real, working freedom. I made all my own decisions. I answered to no one, was responsible to no one but myself. If I did not want to work -- I did not work. I set my own prices, I chose with whom I spent my time and how I spent it. If I did not like a man's looks, I said no to him. For the first time in twenty-eight years. I stood up to the world. Sally Bryant did it her own way.

And I was successful. My experiences at the Geisha, coupled with my own good looks, made it easy for me to score. Men liked me because I knew how to treat them. I knew how to make them feel masculine without ever once sacrificing my own independence, my own basic feminity. I knew what to say, how to say it, what to do and how to do it. I capitalized on what I had learned, and in my first few weeks at being a prostitute, I made more money than I've ever made in my life.

In the beginning, I tried walking the streets, but I didn't fare too well at that. Mostly it was tiring: hard on your feet. And you met a lower class of john that way. So after the first week or so, I took to working in cocktail lounges. I could sit there all night, drink my drinks leisurely, and make my selection with the same kind of simple ease. If the barman hassled me, I simply went to another bar. Believe me, there were more than enough places in L.A. for me to sample before I risked the chance of returning to one I'd already worked in.

And, if I chose to work during the daytime hours, I'd discovered that hotels and business areas are a good place to meet horny men with money. Men on vacation or on business trips who were looking for a little illicit fun, or executives out for a long lunch, with money burning a hole in ther wallet, and a hardon they didn't know where to stick. Hotels and the business areas during the day, bars and cocktail lounges during the night.

That's how I met Sidney.

Sidney was an executive, one of ten or twelve Vice Presidents of an advertising company. He was about forty, a little paunchy, unhappy with his job and unsatisfied with his wife. I met him in an elevator.

I used to go into the building where Sidney worked, before I knew him, and hang around in the lobby or ride up and down on the elevators looking for someone with whom I could score. It was a fairly easy thing to do. I simply wore one of my more sexy dresses without a bra, and half the men in the building would be falling over their feet just to get a glimpse. I've met several men that way, and, in fact, I've even made love to a company president in his private office, right in the building.

I was just getting onto a crowded elevator when I noticed Sidney. I'd seen him before, on the elevators, and he always gave me a strange, searching look, as if he just wasn't quite sure about me or what I was doing there. I noticed the looks, smiled at him for encouragement, but waited for him to make the first move.

He did, finally. I watched him come down an elevator, the same one I was about to get on, and he saw me. Something flickered in his eyes. The crowd came out of the elevators, Sidney included, and he disappeared. I waited for the crowd of ascending people to get on, then I got on, and then, just as the door was closing, someone else pushed his way on. It was Sidney.

He stood next to me, sort of facing me, and I could feel bis cock through his pants, pressing up against my thigh. He had a harden. I smiled inwardly, and leaned towards him, pressing the erection back against him. He licked his lower lip nervously, and then I felt something brush against my thigh and cunt. It was Sidney's hand.

I smiled back at him, and pressed even firmer against his erection. His fingers grazed the broad mound of my cunt. I nodded, and his hand closed over the mound. I pressed down parting my thighs, and Sidney nearly had a heart attack. We rode all the way up to the roof, with his hand on my cunt, and his cock against my thigh.

A half hour later, we were in a hotel room.

"That's wild, Sally," he said, kissing me. We were sitting on the edge of the mattress, and Sidney had his hand up my skirt, on my cunt. "That's wild."

His finger pushed into my wet box, and I pushed down around it, savoring the pleasure. I guessed that I wasn't probably a true prostitute; they're supposed to be sexually frigid, at least with their johns. But I was far from frigid. I still enjoyed sex very much, and all the while I had been at the Geisha, and all the while I'd been working as a prostitute, I'd managed usually to have an orgasm. Only once or twice I didn't come, but it was the fault of the man I was with. They simply came too fast for me to get anything from the experience.

"Don't you think we should get down to more... serious business?" I asked. I liked the warm cupping feeling of Sidney's fat hand inside of my panties. "It's getting late."

"If you think so, Sally," he said. He squeezed one of my breasts through the top of my dress. "Oh, no bra. How nice."

I pushed his hand away, and stood up. His hand slid from my cunt and out of my panties. I began to undress. I had spent enough time with Sidney, and I didn't want to ruin the rest of my afternoon. I figured I could pick up at least three or four men before the five o'clock rush hour, and at twenty-five to fifty dollars a throw, that was a great deal of money.

I dropped my dress on the chair next to the bed, and stepped out of my panties. I fingered my cunt to excite Sidney, and he pulled his eock out for my benefit.

"You know something, Sally," he said, using his hand against his cock, "you are a remarkably attractive woman. Jesus, if my Emily looked like you I'd probably never fuck another woman in my life."

I laughed at his humorless joke. "Well, then I'm glad I don't look like her, or you wouldn't be here, ready to fuck me."

Sidney shuddered. "Say that again. I find that stimulating coming from such an attractive woman."

I remember Benson Kores. "What? Saying that I want you to fuck me? Doesn't your wife ever say that?"

"Emily?" he said, his voice rising with incredulity. "You gotta be kidding. You know what she refers to it as: it. After twelve years of being married, three kids and one abortion, and she says: 'You want to do it tonight, Sid?'"

I laughed.

"And my cock," he continued. "You know what she calls that -- my thing. 'Put your thing in my thing, Sidney.' Not even clinical can she be. I wouln't mind penis even or vagina. But thing and it. It's like making love to Parts Department."

I laughed again softly. I spread the lips of my cunt, exposing the wet underside. "Sidney," I said, "come and put your big thick cock in my wet, juicy pussy, and fuck the shit out of me."

Sidney stood up and began to undress. His cock stood stiffly from the front of his gray slacks, very pink, and sort of stunted. It was about five inches long, and not very thick. He slipped out of his jacket shirt and tie and pants, and was down to his undershirt and blue boxer shorts when he turned to me with a question.

"You know what I would like to do to you -- with you, Sally?" He was very serious now, but I hadn't quite sensed the sudden shift in his intent.

"No -- what?" I asked, laughing. I ran my finger over the length of his cock, up and over the stiff ridge of ihe circumcised head. "What would you like to do to or with me, Sidney?"

He sat on the edge of the bed, still in his shorts, with his black knee-high socks still on. He looked at me through his horn-rimmed glasses. "Something that I've never done before in my life. Something that my wife... that Emily would never let me do to her."

I giggled, still not aware that he was very serious. "That's what I'm here for... to fulfill your fondest wishes. What would you like to do?"

"Fuck you up the ass."

I stared at him for a moment, without blinking, without breathing. I hadn't expected that. For some reasons I had managed to push it completely from my thoughts, almost as if it were a part of the past that I was afraid to deal with. In all the time I was at the Geisha, in all the weeks that I'd been a prostitute, in all the years of my "Me" in fact, that was the one -- the only sexual act I had never performed.

"I... don't know," I said, considering the proposal for the first time, "That would cost more. A lot of money."

"I'm prepared for that," Sidney explained. "I can afford whatever you want to charge me, Sally. Name the price."

I could feel sweat running down the insides of my thighs, and I shivered as if I were suddenly cold. The thought frightened me. I've always considered that -- I can't even say it -- to be so painful, so perverted. It must hurt very much, very, very much.

I remembered Peter. He always wanted to do that to me too -- fuck me in my ass. But like Emily, like Sidney's prudish wife, I never gave him that pleasure.

Just as I never allowed him to come in my mouth. But I let other men do that. I thought of Ralph and the nameless men I'd performed that task for.

But the other, ass fucking, I'd never done. For no man. Was it because I was only afraid of the pain, or was it something else? Was I holding on -- to the past, to that other style of life? Was that what I was doing? Afraid to make the final break, the last link with the past?

"Well?" Sidney asked. "What do you say?"

I looked at him distractedly. I'd almost forgotten he was in the room with me. "Oh," I said, thinking. "I don't... know."

"I can pay you," he said, as if that was the only consideration. "I have a lot of money."

If I did this, I thought, then I could never -- never -- go back again. It would be the final break, the last link, the last hold I had with the past, with my old self. If I did this, I would be truly free. Truly free. In mind and body, but in spirit as well. My soul would be free.

I made my decision. I could do nothing else.

I looked at Sidney. There was a sinking feeling in my stomach, and my knees were shaking. I was more afraid than I was excited sexually. I kept on remembering, a similar scene, when I was a teenager. I was with a boy named Roger, and I had just agreed to give up my virginity. Roger and Sidney: two ends of my life.

I nodded my head quickly, more than once. "All right," I said. My voice cracked. "We can do that if you want. You can fuck me... in my ass, Sidney."

"How much?" Sidney asked. He rose, as if to get his wallet.

I waved him back. "Well discuss money later," I said. "After."

He nodded, as if he understood the significance of my request. He pulled his undershirt off, and dropped his blue boxer shorts. His flesh was milky white, and his cock throbbed stiffly. He had a blondish red hair on his crotch, and it reminded me of rusting steel wool.

"Come and make love to me, Sidney," I said. "Get me in the mood for this."

We came together, our two naked bodies, and I leaned across his puffy belly and kissed his mouth. His tongue pushed between rny lips, and I slid his stubby cock between my thighs, opening the lips of my cunt. As we kissed, I rocked back and forth, robbing his erection against the nub of my clitoris until I could feel the wetness of my excitement begin la the empty hollow of my cuntal passageway.

I broke the kiss off. "We're going to need more than this," I said. I needed real passion, real fire, sexual energy to make the final move. "Let me lay down on the bed."

I sat back, puffing the pillow from the top of the mattress, and put it under my head. I spread my thighs open and drew them back and up.

"Lick my cunt," I said. "Lick it hard. Wet."

Sidney was very excited, and he nearly fell on top of me. He banged his knee getting down. He leaned forward, and I could feel his hot breath against the wetness of my cunt. He put his mouth between my thighs, and began to lick.

"Easy... easy," I said. His tongue was stretching tiie elastic mouth of my hole. He was trying to stuff it inside of me. "Lick me gently, firmly. Lick up, from the hole. Stroke the clitoris with your tongue."

He didn't know exactly what I meant, and I had to show him. Apparently his wife was even more prudish than I had imagined. But he learned after a moment, and he began to lick my cunt like an old professional.

"Good..." I moaned. I pulled my legs back, lifting my cunt into his mouth. "That's very... good."

I could feel myself opening and getting very wet. The lips of my cunt were sloppy with saliva and my own building juices, and my clit throbbed excitedly from the unaccustomed directness of Sidney's attack. He did exactly as I had asked: he began at the hole of my cunt, licked upward, through the oozing slit, rubbed the flat of his tongue across the head of my clitoris, then stroked back again the other way, until he was at my cunt hole again.

Then he began to innovate. Each time he reached the swirling core of my body, he darted his tongue inside me, sinking his tongue until I could feel his teeth pressing into the soft flesh of my hairy mound. He wriggled the tongue around inside of me, flitting it from one side of the canal to the other until I writhed with passion. Then he would pull the tongue out, and trail it again up my body, towards the clit, as if nothing at all had happened.

"Oh... that's good, Sidney," I moaned. I humped my cunt up and down and tried to let him fuck me with his tongue. It was thick and fat, like his soft meringue-like body, and he filled my cunt with it. "Good, baby... Good!"

I could feel the confidence growing in Sidney. He slipped his hands up from my ass cheeks, and he pushed them over the top of my legs. Sliding them back, he gripped into my flesh, and pinned me down with his hands. He pressed me back, dipping his face deeper and deeper into my cunt.

With his hands holding me securely in place, I released my own hold on my legs. I reached down between my parted thighs, and I grabbed onto his balding head with both hands. I pressed his fat face deep into my cunt.

"That's it..." I moaned. "You're doing it well... very well."

The pleasure in my cunt was vividly intense. I was wide open, the lips flapping, and the wet juices were oozing out from the sponge of my cunt, trailing down the back crack of my cunt, collecting between the cheeks of my ass. The sensation aroused me with tremors of anticipation.

I pushed at Sidney's head. "Enough, enough," I instructed. "Now... further back. Further back... until you're licking my... anus. Until you're licking my asshole!"

I could feel the shaking of Sidney's arousal sink down into me. His tongue began to move back, slowly, torturously, until he left my cunt and was licking at my anus.

"Oh... God!" I moaned. It was as if fire was licking through me. Either the anus has to be the most sensitive spot on the human body, or the sheer perversity of having it stimulated was enough to make it seem that way. I crushed my ass up into his face. "Lick it, Sidney! Lick it!"

I could feel the wet tip of his tongue dancing around the tight mouth of my puckered anus. He spread my ass cheeks wide apart with the press of his meaty hands. He licked the hole thoroughly, bathing it with saliva, until I could feel cool trickles of moisture dripping down inside of me. Then he stabbed his tongue in.

"Oh my God!" I cried. My body began to quake violently from the pleasure. His tongue was all the way inside of me; all the way in my ass! Jesus!

I could feel the hard nub of Sidney's chin between the soft cushion of my ass cheeks, and his nose was snorting right into that sensitive crack an inch or two above the anus. His thick, spongy tongue was inside of me, stretching open the tight mouth of rny ass, filling the tight slippery passageway until I thought I was going to faint from the pleasure.

"Oh... God!" I cried again. Sidney flit his tongue from left to right, pushing up deeper, trying to touch every inch of that virginal tunnel. I could feel the saliva rolling down his tongue, pouring into me, until my asshole made the same land of sticky, squishing noise that my cunt had a moment or two earlier.

I could no longer reach his head, and I flailed the air between my bent over thighs, reaching for something. Every time I moved, another knife of pleasure would stab into me. I grabbed onto my breasts for want of having something to hold onto. I dug my fingernails into the tortured flesh, trying to match the pleasure with pain.

"I think I'm... ready," I groaned. "Enough... e-en-ough!"

I trembled as Sidney's tongue slithered from my anus. It felt strange and wet, and I almost came from the withdrawal. But the sensation passed, and my legs fell heavily to the mattress once Sidney was no longer there to prop me up.

His face was completely coated in saliva. The lens of his glasses was smudged with the grease of sweat. His chest was heaving fitfully, pulling his sagging stomach in and out over the stiff, swollen rod of his erection.

"What bow, Sally?" he asked. "What do you want me to do now?"

I rolled over on the mattress. My cunt and ass felt swollen between my thighs. I grabbed the pillow that was under my head, and I rested it under my chest. I lifted my ass, bringing my body to a declined angle to the bed. I spread my thighs, and jutted my ass out over the edge of the mattress.

"Fuck me, Sidney," I said, gripping the pillow with all my strength. "Put your cock in my ass."

He moved heavily to me, reaching up on tip-toes. I could feel the hot graze of his cockhead against my right thigh. His overhanging belly pushed against my ass.

"Wet your cock," I said, steeling myself for the entrance. "Wet it with saliva. Spit on it."

I heard Sidney licking his hands, then spread the moisture all over the rigid length of his nub-like cock. Then, for good measure, lie licked his tongue up and down the crack of my ass, dabbing against the tender ring of my anus. I shuddered as the sensation traveled up inside of me.

"Now... fuck me, Sidney!" I said. "Fuck me!"

He pushed his cock against me, about two inches below the hole of my ass.

"You're too... high!" he squealed. He thrust desperately against me. "Bring it down, Sally. Bring your ass down!"

I did as he asked, and I felt the tip of his cock against my anus. I tightened myself, closing my eyes, tensing my muscles, and I pushed back against him.

"Now, Sidney... Now!"

He gripped the qheeks of toy ass and ripped them open, as if he were trying to tear my body in half, rip me right up the length of my spine. At the same time, he thrust forward, against the resisting, rubbery hole of my anus. I felt the tight mouth strain to remain closed, to protect the last bit of my virginity, but the force of Sidney's thrusts was too powerful. The hole oozed open, and Sidney's cock slid up into my ass.

"Christ... It hurts!" I moaned. I tried to pull away, I tried to expel it from ass by crushing down against it, by pressing out. "God... it hurts me..."

Sidney was standing on his toes for leverage, leaning into me. His hands moved from the cheeks of my ass, and he grabbed me by the front of my thighs. He pulled back powerfully with his arms, pulling me to him as he strained forward, attempting to push himself deeper into the canal of my ass.

"You're... killing me, Sally!" he groaned. He slapped me on the flat of my back with his open hand, stinging me with pain. "You're... crushing my dick. You're gonna kill me... Jeez!"

My asshole was on fire. I could feel the stubby head of Sidney's cock just past the rim of muscles that closed off the entrance. His cock felt like a steel bar inside of me. I strained back against him, wanting him to plunge deeper into me, yet afraid of the pain.

"Fuck me, Goddam it!" I screamed. "Push it... inn!"

His fingers tightened like iron bands around my thighs, and suddenly I felt my body lifting from the mattress. He pulled me back viciously against him, drilling his cock into my ass. The almost overwhelming force of his thrust nearly snapped my spine. I felt the length of his cock, his whole cock, straining to get it.

And then something inside of me gave way.

I screamed in pain, but before the cry was completed, it turned into a moan of pain.

Sidney's cock slid up into my ass.

"Ohmigod!" I moaned. It was like nothing I've ever felt in my life. "Ohmilord!"

"Oh... Oh... OH!" Sidney screamed. "Oh!"

My ass felt full. His cock was hard inside of me. There was no pain any longer... only excruciatingly intense pleasure. I squeezed down against his cock, and colors began to flash in front of my eyes. I was close to fainting and coming, and I didn't know which would happen first.

"Fuck me, baby," I moaned, weak with the pleasure. "Please, fuck me!"

I could feel the whole length of Sidney's short, stubby cock inside of my anal canal. I could feel the heat radiating down into my body as the slippery walls of the canal clung to the sides of his shaft. The circle of muscles around the base of his cock felt loose and dilating, and I could feel saliva bubbling from the straining hole, under pressure. I could feel Sidney's balls: they were hanging down, between my open thighs, resting against my cunt.

"Fuck... me!" I moaned. I began to pull back, away from his cock. "Please... Baby, fuck me!"

Sidney began to pull out, and it felt as though he were going to drag my insides out with him. His cock was like adhesive against the tight lining of my anal passageway. The straining fire of his pulling made me melt with pleasure, but he continued to withdraw.

"Oh... God!" he groaned. "It's so... tight!"

Suddenly his cock dislodged, and I swooned with the pleasure. I could feel him drawing it back, scraping it down the clinging length of my asshole. I could feel the head of his cock, throbbing against the slick tunnel. It was a strangely sexual, deeply erotic sensation.

"That's it. That's it!" I cried. "In and out... push it in and out. Fuck me!"

My anal channel loosened, or perhaps I relaxed, and I felt Sidney's cock sliding back. He moved fluidly, as if there was a sudden new lubrication inside of me that was easing the withdrawal. Fingers of sensations tingled in me as his cockhead scraped against the raw untouched nerve endings in my ass.

"Don't pull out!" I cautioned, almost in a panic. "Don't pull out!"

But he wasn't about to pull out, and Sidney withdrew his cock almost to the end, and I could feel the swollen head of the organ pumping against the inner muscles of my anus. Then, just before he slipped out, he grunted, and thrust in again savagely, and I cried out with the pleasure.

"Oh... yes!" I screamed, pressing back to greet his inward thrust. "Oh... yes!"

It was easy then, and Sidney ground his hips around, pressing the shaft of his cock around in a tight circle in my ass. I could feel him pushing up and down, exploring the tight new passageway, searching out all the new corners and pockets of pleasure. Then he pulled back again, and I felt the passageway collapsing with intense sexual pleasure.

"That's it... In and out," I cried. We were in rhythm now, and we were fucking. He was thrusting in and out, and I was matching his sexual tempo. We were working together, fucking each other. "In and out... in and out... in and out!"

Sidney gripped my hips with firm, unyielding hands. He pushed and pulled me, driving his turgid cock in and out of my climbing asshole.

"I'm gonna come!" he grunted. I could feel his excitement as his cock quivered inside of me. "Sally... I'm gonna come!"

"Yes... yes!" I cried. "Come in me! Come in me! In my ass... in my ass... come in my ass!"

Sidney's cock began to swell, and he thrust in hard, deep, deeper than anything I've ever felt. I could feel his balls rising up against the soft cheeks of my ass.

"Now...! Now...! NOW...! NOW!"

He began to come. It was as though someone were pouring molten lead into my asshole. His sperm gushed into me, like magna, like lava, like liquid fire... coating my anal canal until it dripped from the drowning rnouth of my anus, and oozed all over my fluttering cunt.

The moment the first drop of sperm touched me, perhaps before it touched me, I began to come.

The orgasm began at a peak they usually end at, and it soared upward from there. Higher and higher and higher, one orgasm after another, like an endless string, with no second of breath between, no moment of relaxation. One on top of another on top of another on top of another until they reached so high the pleasure was a scream in my ears. Then I realized it was my own scream, and I was screaming at the top of my lungs because the pleasure, the orgasm was so powerful, so total that it simply could not get out of my body fast enough. I had to provide another exit. I screamed it from my body.

More and more sperm gushed into me, and orgasm piled on top of orgasm. After a moment my scream wasn't enough, and I fell heavily onto the bed, with Sidney still in my ass, pumping away.

Something black and soft came up around my awareness and wrapped it carefully away. I tell into it, grateful for its numbness.

When I woke Sidney was gone. Sperm dribbled from my anus like blood from any open wound. I staggered from the bed.

On the dresser top, I found fifty dollars, payment from Sidney. I took the money with me into the bathroom. I tore it up and flushed it down the toilet.

I didn't do it for the money.

CHAPTER EIGHT

I leaned on the doorbell, and somewhere inside the magnificent hollow of the huge mansion, I heard the far off echo ringing.

It was dark and I looked behind me, more than a little nervous. I had purchased a car, my first, a little foreign type, and it was sitting across from me, in the shadows of the ramp of the house. As yet I wasn't a good driver, but I was learning. I found out very early that you needed a car in California almost as much as you needed money.

I looked at my watch and rang the bell again.

I was late, I knew, and I guess that's why I was nervous. I got lost on my way up from L.A., even though I followed the road map. Santa Teresa seemed such an easy town to find. Perhaps I should have made a test run during the daylight hours. Then, at least, I would have known where I was going.

From somewhere within the bowels of the massive estate I heard a shuffle of feet running across thick caipeting. I waited patiently at the door for the sound to come closer. It seemed to be coming from far off. Finally the door parted, and a bright light leaked out into the night.

In the center of the light there was a man. Tall, thin, balding, in a dark suit, white shirt and tie. He looked coldly out at me.

"Yes?" he said.

I could see glimpses of the house behind him, and the inside seemed as magnificent as the outside had. There seemed to be a wide high hallway just beyond the door, and in the center there hung a glittering chandelier. I could see a spiraling marble staircase just beyond, twisting off into the shadows two stories above my head.

"Can I help you, young lady?" the man asked again, touched with impatience.

I moved my eyes from the splendor, finding it hard to imagine that people really lived in houses like this. Having that much money made my brain anxious because I simply could not grasp the differences in our lifestyles. For me this much wealth was part of a fantasy world. Millionaires and actors might live this way, but not real people. Not people like me. I trained my eyes on the man inside of the pool of light and gave him my best smile. "I'm Sally Bryant. Are you Mr. Burroughs? Mr. Lawrence W. Burroughs?"

"Certainly not, Miss."

I flustered for a moment. "But this is his residence, isn't it?"

He gave me a very long, suspicious look. "Yes, it is."

"Well, I'm Sally Bryant. I'm here about the... film. You know... the film."

He nodded gravely. "I thought perhaps you might be, Miss. Come with me and I will take you to Mr. Burroughs."

He closed the door behind me and led me through the main hallway. I saw the chandelier clearly now, and it was suspended high above the floor, bolted to a white domed ceiling. The staircase was wide and flowing, and I expected Loretta Young to come gliding down it at any moment. It was that kind of house. It reminded me of a hundred movie sets from the forties.

But Loretta Young didn't come down the spiral stairway, and we went up it instead. There was a thick burgundy colored rug under foot, and it absorbed the sound of our walking, and turned it into whispers.

We reached the top landing, turned to the left, and continued down a long hallway. The same burgundy rug was underfoot, stretching from wall to walls, and running out in front of us, down the long hallway, for what seemed a mile or two. There were paintings on the walls, originals, and I recognized some French Impressionists. Every once and a while there was a small sofa or a high-backed chair that reminded me of a throne pushed to either side of the hallway walls. It gave me the impression that I was in the lobby of an old-time movie house.

We stopped at one door, and the tall dark man knocked gently. "Sir," he said.

Behind the door someone said: "What is it, Perez?"

"A Miss Sally Bryant to see you, sir."

"Good. Good. Send her in. And thank you, Perez. I won't be needing you any further tonight."

"Very good, sir." He nodded at the closed door. Then he turned back to me. "You may go in now, Miss. Mr. Burroughs will see you now."

He nodded to me, then turned and walked back the endless hallway, leaving me standing alone in front of the high white door with the gold trimming. I didn't know what to do, so I knocked.

The same voice from inside said: "Come in, Miss Bryant. The door is unlocked."

The door handle was gold, covered with a fine, intricate pattern. It fit my hand smoothly, and I tightened my fingers around it. There was an ahnost inaudible clicking sound, and I pushed the door open.

I entered what was probably the library. At least there were bookcases on all four walls, from floor to the high ceiling, and the shelves were stuffed with books. The room had a faintly musty smell, and was lighted by a few small-watt bulbs very high above us.

Mr. Burroughs was sitting directly in front of me, in a wheel chair. That was something that was unexpected, but what shocked me even more was his age. He looked as if he was a hundred. He was old and wrinkled, bent over in the chair, and completely bald. But there was life in his gray eyes, and perhaps a wisdom that matched his many years.

"Good evening, Miss Bryant," he said. His voice was remarkably strong, and seemed incongruous to the frailty of his body. "You are a very beautiful young woman."

I flushed. "Thank you, Mr. Burroughs." I began to walk towards him, but he held up his hand.

"Please stay there, Miss Bryant. I would rather admire you from this distance."

I stopped in my tracks, feeling foolish and uncomfortable in the center of the room.

"Would you mind answering a few questions before we get on with this, my dear?" he asked.

"No, not at all." I didn't know what to do with my hands, so I tried folding them. That didn't work, and I finally let them hang at my sides. They felt very long and very heavy.

"What made you decide to answer my advertisement?" he asked.

He was talking about his ad in an L.A. sex paper. I was reading the Personal Column one day, and the ad caught my eye. I read it and called the number feted. I was told to leave my name and telephone number. About a half hour later, I received a call from a Mr. Harrison Miller, Mr. Burroughs' attorney, although I didn't know that at the time. Mr. Miller questioned me about the ad, testing my sincerity, I guess, and then he made an appointment to see me in person. I met him the next day, we talked about sexual matters, and he had a photographer take some naked photos of me. He paid me one hundred dollars and said he'd be in touch with me. A week went by, and then Mr. Miller called me again. He asked me if I was still interested in the ad. I said I was, and he gave me the name of Mr. Lawrence W. Burroughs, gave me this address, told me how to get here and when to come. He said I would receive a check in the mail the morning after I had come here for one thousand dollars. And that was it.

"The money, I guess," I answered. "The money."

He shook his head, and I had the feeling it might fust roll from his shoulders if he moved it too rapidly. He made a tisking sound in the back of his throat.

"Just the money, my dear?" he asked. "Surely that wasn't your only consideration."

"Well, no. I guess it wasn't. I had... other reasons."

"Such as, my dear?" he asked. He folded his hands in front of him, pressing his fingers against each other in a bridge. "What would make such an attractive, young girl like yourself want to do something like this? Want to make you appear in an erotic -- no, a pornographic film?"

A tremor of sexual excitement went through me. It was really going to happen, I thought to myself. It was really going to happen!

I shrugged my shoulders. "I don't know. Maybe I found the idea exciting. You know... sexually exciting."

"And did you?"

I thought about it. "Yes. Yes, I did. Very exciting, in a perverse sexual way. Maybe I'm an exhibitionirt at heart. Maybe all people are. But there just seemed to be something... very erotic, very senusal in knowing that you are going to appear in a pornographic film."

He seemed pleased with my answer. He rubbed the side of his jaw with a trembling hand. "Have you ever done anything like this before, Miss Bryant?"

"No, not exactly like this," I explained. I told him frankly about the Geisha, and that too seemed, to please him. I left out the part about my being a prostitute, for I wasn't sure how he would react to that. Then, when I was finished, I added: "To me this was a new experience, something I've never done before. I enjoy trying new things."

"You would say then that you have a strong, healthy sexual appetite?"

"I've never thought about it in that way, but I guess there's truth in what you say. I've always enjoyed sex very much."

"Good, good!" he said. He hit the arm of his wheel chair for emphasis. "Then you are a woman after my own heart. I, too, was a sensualist. I spent my whole life, my whole fortune in amassing every conceivable sexual experience. Look around you. At these books. The world's largest private erotic library. Every book a treasure."

I looked around me in amazement. Every book in the room: pornographic! It was hard to imagine.

"In my lifetime, my dear, I have made love to, seduced more women than ten men could in one hundred lifetimes. I have made love to queens, my dear. Royalty! Actresses, heiresses, the wives of millionaires. Some of the most beautiful women in the world. Some names, that if I would tell you, you would be shocked. Shocked."

He sighed deeply, moving his hands weakly around in front of him in a helpless gesture.

"But," he said, sadly, tiredly, "no more. That part is over for me. Over for many many years. So now I make films, sexual films, and I watch others doing what I cannot. I find the most beautiful women in the world, women like yourself, and I couple them with men who are equipped with formidable sexual equipment. I film those coupling for myself, and I watch them, using their youthful passion to rekindle the final, dying ember of my own. Sexuality is a very solitary experience for me now. Very... lonely."

He brushed aside his mood again, like any annoying fiy buzzing inside of his brain.

"Enough," he said. "Let us get on with the reason for your visit. If you would be so kind as to push me, my dear." He indicated the wheel chair.

I felt sorry for him, and I moved to help him. "Which way, Mr. Burroughs?"

"Through that door, back down the hallway, and to the right. It's the first door."

I followed his instructions, knocking on the door. It opened, and a young man in a blue demin shirt held it open for us. I pushed the wheel chair into the room.

I saw immediately the room was decorated like a motion picture studio. There were rows of bright lights above us, snakes of cabled wires littering the floors, and huge, professional movie cameras set up in strategic places in the room. There was a bed in the center of a spotlight, very brightly illuminated. I suspected that was my stage.

The man in the denim work shirt took Mr. Burroughs from me, and pushed the chair across the tangled floor to a position near the bed, but just outside of camera range. I wandered over to them and stood at his side.

"Forgive me, Sally," the old man said. "I forgot to introduce you. Sally Bryant, this is Lance Kemmelman. Lance is our cameraman."

I said hello.

"I don't know whether you are a motion picture fan, Sally, but Lance here is a very famous Hollywood cameraman. He has already received an Academy Award for..." He named a very famous film that I had seen the previous year. It was a fantastic financial as well as artistic success. I remembered the film work vividly.

I was impressed and I think it showed. I think I said something inane.

Lance laughed, and the old man joined him. "You see, Sally," Mr. Burroughs said, "what you can do if you have money. There is almost nothing that you cannot buy."

Lance laughed. "You should see some of the films Mr. Burroughs has in his private vault. Films of world famous actors and actresses... performing for him for pay. Some of them Award winners." He named an unbelievably well-known husband and wife team.

Mr. Burroughs waved his hand again. "Enough, enough. Look, Billy is here already."

I turned, and standing there, stark naked was a slender, blondhaired boy. I say boy because I'm sure he could not have been older than fifteen or sixteen. He had a slender, almost effeminate build, with thin arms and legs, flat stomach and ribs pushing through his gauntly pulled flesh. His body was completely hairless, even his pubic region, but that wasn't what made my breath suck in so deeply. It was the sight of his cock. It was longer and thicker than any organ I have ever seen in my life. I guessed that it had to be at least ten inches long. I found out later that it was closer to eleven inches in length.

I think my mouth must have dropped open, and I know that I felt an unmistakable throb in my cunt. My mouth went very dry, and I couldn't help staring at the fantastic organ. It looked like the end of a baseball bat.

Billy saw me staring, and he touched himself with his shallow hand. He caressed his mighty weapon, sliding his hand protectively, proudly up and down the endless pink shaft.

He said: "Hello."

I answered him, I think, suddenly very frightened and envious. I ached to touch that colossal hardness, to see if it were real, and I hated his hand for the ease with which he fondled it. But my cunt was terrified. There was no way, no possible way that I could get that log inside of me without ripping me in two.

"Hello," I finally answered. "My God."

Burroughs laughed, without any envy, and a sort of strange pride. I think he almost identified with Billy.

"It is impressive, isn't it?" he said. "And more so because of his tender age. Billy's not yet sixteen, are you, lad?"

"He'll be sixteen on November 9th," she said.

Burroughs shook his head. "Can you imagine, Sally, what Billy will be like when he has fully matured? Can you imagine that?"

I could hardly imagine it. I could hardly believe what I saw right in front of me. I was overwhelmed.

"Why don't you go over and touch it, Sally?" Burroughs suggested. "Go ahead."

I moved as if I were in a dream. The heat of the spotlight burned against my flesh like some miniature sun, and I could feel perspiration collecting already between my breasts. I walked forward, with my back to the two men watching me, and I reached out and touched Billy.

"My... God," I muttered. I could barely grasp it. My fingers couldn't go around the shaft it was so thick. I slid my hand slowly tip and down, deep, deep strokes until I touched his hairless belly, then stroking back up again until I squeezed the thick spongy head between my fingers. It felt cool and hard, like a column of ivory. "It's... fantastic."

"Enough, enough," Burroughs shouted. "Let us get on with the filming."

I let go of Billy and turned around. I was trembling with excitement and terror. I shaded my eyes and looked into the glare of the lights, at the two men standing in the shadows. I was waiting for instructions.

"How do you want to do it?" Lance asked the old man. "Do you want to do some secondary shots first? Build the story line?"

"No, let's get down to the action sequences first," the man in the wheel chair said. "Use a handheld camera, Lance, and get in there close with them. I want some clear, vivid detail. I want it to seem like the camera is a part of the experience."

Lance nodded, and he went off in the shadows, after his camera and equipment.

I stepped towards the old man, the hand still shading my eyes. "What should I do?" I asked. Even to me it sounded like a foolish question.

"My dear, the first thing you should do is remove your clothing. And then go and make love to Billy. Make love to him, don't act. Enjoy it. Enjoy as if you were alone with him. Forget that we are here. Just make love to that wonderful cock of his, Sally. Do what comes natural."

I turned and stared at Billy. He was caressing his cock again, as if he were preoccupied with it. He looked up at me and smiled vacantly.

"Don't worry, Sally." Lance said, stepping into the spotlight. "If you get stuck, I'll tell you what to do. Just relax... and enjoy it."

I laughed nervously and began to undress. Lance watched me appreciatively, whistling at my nakedness. Billy hardly took notice. He was more interested in his cock. I imagine it was difficult for him to consider anyone but himself as a love object. He was a man who was literally in love with his own cock.

"Okay," Lance instructed, "why don't you get up on the bed, Billy." He looked through the eye of the camera, then tested the brightness with the light meter.

Billy lay back on the bed, and his cock stood straight up in the air like a tent pole. From underneath, with his thighs open and his balls hanging between his legs, his cock seemed even more magnificent.

Lance came over to me and took me by the arm, pushing me towards the bed. "Are you ready to fuck yet, Sally? Is your cunt open enough, wet enough to take a cock comfortably?" He checked the light again, from another angle.

I blushed; it was stupid, but I did. "No, not yet. I'm still... dry."

"Alright then," he said, making an adjustment on the camera lens, "why don't we begin with a little sucking. Sally, get on Billy's belly, head facing his cock, and start sucking him. Use a lot of tongue, and make sure your hair doesn't fall in front of what you're doing."

Numbly I climbed onto the bed. The spot glared down on me like the eye of God, and I began to sweat. My body was coated with a thin, oily film of perspiration, even before anything had happened.

I climbed on top of Billy's prostrate body, leaning across his stomach, with my legs behind me, off to the side. I placed both my hands around the base of Billy's cock. It felt huge between my fingers.

"All right!" Lance said. He got down on one knee, and he aimed the camera at us. "Get ready! All set Mr. Burroughs!"

Off from the distance, I heard: "Roll it, Lance!"

The camera began to whirl, and I froze for a moment, holding onto Billy's cock with both hands.

"Okay, Sally," Lance said, "start sucking."

Still numb, with my mouth dry, I leaned forward and began to lick Billy's cockhead. The flesh tasted clean and hard, like marble. He didn't stir or respond, but simply lay there, as if I were paying him the ultimate homage.

"That's it... That's it, Sally," Lance said, zooming in closer. "Open your legs a little... Wider... We want to see your pussy as well."

I flattened my tongue against the swollen knob of the cock, licking up and down and over, dripping my saliva against him until it dripped down the hard pink pole, striping it like a candy cane. I wiggled the tip of my tongue inside of the narrow slitted opening, and for the first time, Billy reacted. He sighed softly, with pleasure.

I dug my tongue in, as though I were trying to stuff it down the tight urethra opening. I chewed into the spongelike crown with my front teeth, biting him gently, the way a dog chews on a soup bone.

Billy sighed again. "You do that real good, Sally," be moaned. "I like the way you suck it."

I pursed my lips, and closed them over the top-half of the cockhead so that only one inch at the most was in my mouth. My lips were stretched widely apart to even get that little of him into me. I rolled my tongue around the crown of the head, bathing him with saliva. He began to rock gently under me.

"Why don't you try sucking a little, Sally," Lance suggested. He moved to the side, camera whirring, to get a different angle. "Try and sink your mouth down him."

With the ice broken, and the pleasant warmth of the lights awakening my sleeping passion, I was glad to respond. I stretched my mouth wide, as wide as I could, and I could feel the flesh straining at the corners of my lips. My jaw cracked as I dropped it. And, as if I were trying to swallow a whole ear of corn, I felt Billy's cock move up into my open mouth. "Good... Good!" Lance said. "Very good."

Billy's cock was enormous in my mouth, like the end of an Italian bread. My tongue was flattened under the throbbing shaft, and he touched all points inside my mouth without any of my effort. I could feel him sinking up into me, my teeth scraping along the tender shaft, until the head of his cock was pushed back against the opening of my throat, and he could go no further.

"Beautiful... Beautiful!" Lance moved again.

Excited now by the hugeness of the instrument in my mouth, I began to suck hard on Billy's cock, I allowed my saliva to flow wetly down all around it, packing it in a moist wet sleeve. I squished my tongue around, sliding it from left to right, over the throbbing bulge of the cock shaft. I began to rock up and down on it, sliding it up and down in my mouth. I could see my lips, clinging to the sides of the shaft, pull up and down as I slid the cock in and out of my mouth.

"Good, Sally... Good!" Lance stood up and leaned down over us. "Do it as if you're enjoying it."

I was, I was! I was enjoying it. The size of it, the bluntness of it, the columnar hardness of it was enough to make rny cunt quiver. I was aroused, passionately aroused from just sucking on it. I wondered how I would react when he put it in my cunt.

I bobbed my lips up and down the portion of Billy's cock that I had in my mouth. The rest of him, about three quarters of his length, remained outside of my straining mouth, with no way I could possibly get him in. I squeezedt both hands into the tree-like base of the shaft, jerking them up suddenly. I slid the clasped hands up until I was touching my own pursed lips. Then I jerked the hands down again, and I felt the cool fleeting hardness of Billy's cock sliding through my fingers.

"Good... good," Lance encouraged. "Just hold it like that. Don't stop what you're doing. I'm just going to reload. Don't stop!"

I had no intention of stopping. I could feel Billy's mighty cock throbbing in my fingers, deep inside of my mouth. Finally he was beginning to react with serious pleasure, lifting his hips, pressing upward with his crotch, aiding my mouth and hands. He moaned: "Nice... nice move... nice."

I pulled my tongue free of the heavy press of his cock, and I snaked it over the head of the plunging shaft. As I moved my head up and down, sinking the erection in and out of my mouth, I swirled my tongue over the swollen, sensitive cockhead. I pulled my hands furiously up and down the other part of the cock, the part as yet untasted, gripping him tightly as I jerked and sucked him off simultaneously. Saliva dribbled from my fluttering lips, oozed down bis cock, and coated the shaft for my sliding hands. I stroked him harder, faster, until my hands were a blur, and I was banging my doubled over fists hard against my own plummeting mouth. My lips cut and ripped open, and I could taste my own blood in my mouth, mixing with the saliva and the salty, warm taste of Billy's cock flesh.

"Good... Good," said Lance. The camera was reloaded, and it whirred in my ears. "Now you, Billy... Touch Sally's cunt... Reach down between her legs and finger her and play with her clit."

I felt Billy's hands on me, and I almost moaned. I felt him opening the lips, fingering the clit with his twirling fingers, and then he plunged deep into me, opening the passageway between the lips.

"God..." he cried. He turned his fingers around, twisting them inside of me, stretching my hole wide. It was as if he were readying me for the entrance of his cock. "She's all wet, Lance. Sopping. She's just oozing pussy juice all over my hands."

He dug his fingers into me, and I ground my cunt back against the flitting pleasure. I tightened my mouth around his cock, jerking my two hands up and down the broad tube of swollen flesh. I began to screw my lips around, twisting my head, letting the column of his cock slide around inside of my mouth. I moved my mouth from side to side, rolling my tongue, darting it against him, pressing him hard up into my straining lips.

"I'm going to move around to your side, Billy," Lance said. I heard him move away, then to the side, and finally he was behind me. I heard the whir of the camera rolling over my twisting body.

The bed moved, as if someone had just crawled onto the mattress. The sound of the camera came closer.

"Sally," Lance said, "without stopping what you're doing, slide around on top of Billy's body. Put your cunt in his face. I want to get some shots of him eating you."

I did as I was instructed, sliding my sweaty body over Billy's cool hardness. I felt him lift me, parting my thighs around his head, and I felt his mouth press against the lips of my cunt.

I moaned at the contact, but the sound was muffled against the gag of Billy's cock shaft. I pressed my cunt back into his face, and I felt his tongue sinking up inside of me. After a moment the tongue withdrew, and Billy darted it against my throbbing clitoris. I almost screamed.

"Beautiful shot!" Lance announced. "Beautiful, Billy. Good tongue work."

I could feel the heat of the spot burning hotly against my oozing flesh, making me slippery with perspiration. Sweat just poured from me, and I rubbed my body up and down against Billy, as if we were two moving parts of the same machine.

"Let me get in closer, Billy," Lance said. I could almost feel the vibrations of the camera. "I want a tight close up. That's it... Now more tongue... stick it out all the way... That's it! Brush it up and down against her clitty... Now jab it in!"

I felt the hot wedge of Billy's tongue sink up inside of my cunt. I squeezed down with my vaginal muscles, attemping to trap the flitting tongue deep inside my box. I could feel the slick walls of the oozing passageway closing around him.

"Now pull it out, Billy," Lance instructed. "Hold those lips open... Wider... widerr..."

I could feel Billy pulling the lips of my cunt open. There was a pinching, burning sensation in my vagina as the cool air tickled against my exposed underside.

The sensation was erotic, and I sunk my month down hard again, trying to press more and more of Billy's cock between my lips and into my mouth.

"Good... Good!" Lance said. I felt him lean in closer to me. "I want a real tight closeup of that creaming pussy. I want to see the lips and that wet hole." The camera whirred, clicking away at my cunt. "Sally, Sally... now I want you to tighten and relax your cunt hole... Do it easy, slowly... That's it, make that pink ring of muscles look like a winking eye..."

I could hardly control my cunt, and the muscles were gripping open and closed on their own. Spasms of pleasure made my cunt quiver, and I could feel a thick, gooey discharge sliding down the canal of my vagina, seeping out of the clutching hole.

"Now I'm going to do something wild," Lance warned me. "I'm going to bring the camera right up to your cunt. Right against the lips... as if I was fucking you with the lens. The camera is a cock, and it's going up into you."

I felt the lens touch me, and I nearly bit down into the shaft of Billy's cock. The camera felt so hard, so cold, like a cock, and I pressed my cunt tightly against it, humping it, trying to fuck myself with it.

"Good... good!" Lance cried. "Great, Sally... Great shot!"

I felt the camera sink up into me.

"Oh... God!" I moaned. I pulled my mouth from Billy's cock, trying to control my lips enough to make them bend around words. The camera was still between the lips of my cunt, probing into me. "I want to... fuck. Please, fuck me. Billy. Anybody... fuck ME!"

Billy let go of my cunt, and I felt the camera withdraw. I jerked his cock savagely up and down, using both hands. My arms began to ache.

"Should I, Lance?" Billy asked. "Is it all right if I fuck her?"

"Okay, yeah -- good. We can use that now. But fuck her from the rear first... Let me get some more film."

I didn't care if he fucked me sideways, as long as he fucked me. Billy pulled out from under me, leaving me flat on the mattress, my tits crushed under me, and my cunt aching for a cock.

"Pull this up," Bill instructed. He jabbed his finger into my cunt, lifting me. "Get up on your hands and knees. I'm going to fuck you like a bitch in heat."

I was like a pawn, willing to do almost anything just to feel the hardness of Billy's cock inside of me. I rose up, on my hands and knees. My arms were straining to support me, and I was swaying back and forth in my passion. Billy's hand was still in my cunt, pumping his fingers in and out of me.

"Fuck me... please!" I moaned. Crocked back against Billy's fingers. "Please... fuck me!"

I sensed Lance standing in front of me once again. I heard the camera whirl to life.

"That's good, Sally... good position. Now open your eyes, Sally. Look at the camera. Give me a very sexy, sensual look... Show the camera how juicy, how aroused you are. Melt the lens."

I opened my eyes, half blinded by the glare of the spotlight high above the stage. I tried to focus my pleasure blinded vision, and after a moment I managed to succeed. Lance was standing far front of me, perhaps three feet away, with the camra mounted on his shoulder. He was operating the machine with one hand, but with the other, he was caressing his cock. It was pulled from his pants, and he was jerking it up and down, obviously very aroused.

"That's it!" he said, working the camera and working himself. "Give me a hard... sexy look... Moan at the camera... Tell it you want it to fuck you. Say the words."

"Fuck me," I moaned. Billy's hand worked in and out of my cunt. I pleaded, in pain from so much pleasure. "Somebody... please fuck me!"

Lance said: "Good... good. Now Billy, move in behind her. Put your cock into Sally's pussy."

I began to tremble from the mere thought that it was about to happen, and I began to squirm, on my hands and knees, like a dog shaking water from its body. Billy's hand slid from my cunt, and I felt him climbing between my thighs, positioning himself against me.

"Fuck me... fuck me," I moaned. The room was going in and out of my awareness, and I had sweat in my eyes. The lips of my cunt were shivering with anticipation. "Please... fuck me... fuck me... fuck me..."

Lance jerked his cock off, and aimed the camera. "I'm going to come in close to her now Billy... I want to get a shot of you driving it into her... from the top, looking down, over Sally's back. Sink it into her slowly, Billy. Slowly."

I watched Lance moving in closer to me, the camera purring like a live animal. He released his hold on his cock, and used both hands to steady the camera.

Billy came up behind me. I felt the blunt tip of his cock against my cunt. I cried out, anticipating the pleasure, as if he had seared me with the burning end of a torch.

"Okay," Billy said. "Here she goes..."

Pain like nothing I've ever felt in my life ripped into my body. I tried to pull away, but Billy's hands held me firmly in place. Just the tip of his cock had slid up into my cunt, but it was enough to make me ache all over with the intensity of the pleasure. I couldn't have moved if I'd wanted to. I was impaled, like a pig on a spit. Billy's cock throbbed inside of me and I screamed in the agony of my excitement.

"Ohmigod... he's so big! He's killing me... killing me!"

"Good, Billy, good," Lance said. He moved in closer, the camera above me, his cock inches away from me. "Very good... now push it in, Billy... Push that cock up into her cunt."

Billy's hands tightened around my hips, and he pushed his groin forward. Despite my pain, I found myself pushing back against him, straining to get his monster-cock into my screaming, protesting cunt. I felt myself opening up, as though someone had impaled me with a tubular vise, and it was opening inside of me, prying me apart. The walls of my cunt clung to the side of Billy's cock as if I was oozing glue instead of the slimy discharge of my excitement I could feel the inner lips pushing in, moving up inside of me, as if there was no hole there, and Billy's cock was drilling one. I pushed back against it and screamed again.

"God... God! It hurts so... good!"

"Jesus, she's tight," Billy moaned. "She's gonna crush my fuckin cock... She's making pulp outa it!"

"Beauty shot!" Lance moaned, excited artistically as well as physically. "Beautiful fucking shot!"

My cunt was one fire, the walls of the canal were screaming with the torturous friction of penetration. I felt every inch, every throb of Billy's cock, scraping against the bloodied tightness of my flesh, gouging out the path for his cock.

I pushed back with everything I could, my whole weight and all my strength. I dilated the muscles of my cunt, hunching down hard, quickly, pouding myself against him. He responded with a similar enthusiasm driving his cock into me with vicious jerks of his hips. It was as if his cock were a nail, and he was trying to hammer it up into me. And succeeding.

Inch by inch Billy's swollen cock moved up into the tight channel of my cunt. I pressed back, and he thrust forward. I groaned and cried, torn between the pain and the exquisite pleasure. Then, suddenly, there was nothing left to push, and Billy's cock was inside my cunt.

"Jesus... she took it!" Billy cried in amazement. "She took it... my whole fuckin cock!"

I could feel the cock inside of me, huge, swollen, reaching right up into the pit of my stomach. My body was wrapped tightly around it, and I could feel the tense swing of his hairless balls hanging between my wrenched open thighs. The organ pulsed inside of me, like a second heart, sending vibrations of pleasure into every corner of my body and brain.

"My... God." Lance exclaimed excitedly. "She really did... Look at that! Let me get a shot of that." He leaned closer, pressing his body down against mine, leaning on my back.

Without thinking, needing it desperately, I tilted my head up, and I swallowed Lance's cock into my mouth as he bent over me. My cunt was aching with the tremendous hardness of Billy's cock, and I burned with an uncontrollable fever.

Lance jumped, startled, when he felt my lips on his organ. He began to pull back, but my mouth was not to be denied. I slithered forward, gobbling the hard, hot shaft, until it was pushing against the back of my throat, and my lips were scraping against the sapper of his open pants. His whole cock, from the thick root down to the throbbing head was in my mouth, pressing down against my wet, licking tongue. I began to suck him desperately.

"What are you doing?" he said, trying to disengage. "What are you doing?"

Billy, apparently excited by my sudden passion, leaned over me, placing his hands on my back, to see what I was doing. His cock slithered an inch or two deeper into me, and I crushed feebly back against it with my stretched cuntal muscles.

"Look at that..." There was admiration in his voice. "This bitch can't get enough cock."

I rocked my hips back against Billy, feeling the deadly swing of his balls between my thighs. My eyes were closed, and I was sucking as hard as I could, trying to swallow the entire length of Lance's cock right down my throat. His balls were pressed against my slimy, saliva smeared chin, and they were swinging against me, matching the tempo of the other pair at the other end of my cock.

"I can't... concentrate!" Lance said desperately. He was longer struggling to pull away from me, and was, in fact, pushing his cock deeper into my mouth, sliding it in and out as if he were fucking me. I heard the camera whirring above me, but God knows where it was pointed. "I can't film this way, Sally...! I can't..."

Off to my left, like a sudden intrusion, I heard another voice. I'd forgotten we had an audience. Burroughs was talking very loudly, in a trembling, excited tone.

"Let her. Let her, Lance!" he said. "Film it. Film it! Aim the camera down... Get a shot of Sally sucking your cock!"

Whether he was doing as instructed or not, didn't matter to me. All I knew was that Lance was responding to my needs. He was driving his throbbing cock viciously in and out of my mouth, pulling it back until the head was pressed against my teeth, then driving it in hard, the full length, until his balls smacked dully into my face, and the head of his cock was making me gag. I sucked furiously, licking him, drawing him up into my mouth, bathing him with saliva, screwing my mouth down into his heaving belly until my lips were rubbed raw by the grate of his open zipper.

Then Billy behind me began to move. He began to fuck me with his tree-like cock. He slid back, and the sensation was so intense I bit down into the shaft of Lance's cock as I tried to bear the pleasure. Lance groaned, but grew very excited, and pumped even harder and faster in and out of me.

Billy held me in place with his hands, although my mouth was securely fixed to the end of Lance's cock, and he withdrew the full length of his cock except for his cockhead. That he let remain inside of me.

I tensed myself for the inward thrust that I loiew would come. Billy waited, teasing me with the suspense, then, when I thought it would never happen, I felt his hands tighten on my thighs. He drove down, deep, deep, deep into my cunt.

The sensation of pleasure rushed from the tip of his cock and pushed up inside of me. I felt it race through my body like a series of waves, one washing against the other, growing larger and larger, until I felt the sensation in my mouth. It washed against the throbbing hardness of Lance's cock as he drove it in and out of me.

I sucked Lance, and pushed back against Billy. He began to draw back again, and I felt the walls of my cunt collapsing around his retreating hardness. Then he shoved himself in again, and the walls ripped open, as if an explosion had cleared a path for his driving cock. I felt the sensation down the length of my body, right up through the roots of my hair. It prickled my scalp as though Billy were fucking me with an electric prod and not his cock.

I don't know who came first. I think it was Lance. I think it was a chain-reaction: Lance came in my mouth, the sensation of his orgasm traveled down the length of my body, tripping off my own pleasure, and then it gushed around the thick plug of Billy's cock, seeping down into the shaft until it ignited the fires of Billy's passion, and he began to come in my cunt. Three people, all coming at the same time.

I felt my body filling up from both ends. I swallowed the sperm in my mouth, drinking it down desperately to keep from drowning. My cunt performed similarly, sucking out the pumping flood of semen from the end of Billy's throbbing cock. Sperm flowed thickly into me, gushing hotly, and both ends of my body, both drinking, greedy mouths sucked up the swirling goo as quickly as it could be pumped into me. I felt the hot, incandescent flow draining inside of me, as if there was a hole somewhere inside of me, an emptiness, and the sperm was draining into it. The emptiness begari to ache, the emptiness that was there, has always been there, and may forever be there. It was the emptiness, the dissatisfaction, that I felt with Peter, with French, with Zach, with Ralph, with Patti, at the Geisha -- the emptiness that I felt right at this moment of colossal orgasm. Like a hole inside of me, an empty bottomless pit, and the sperm of two cocks poured into it, trying to fin it with heat and passion and pleasure. Sperm from two ends of me, from two cocks inside of me, and that deep drinking emptiness was still left hungry and unsatiated.

I tried to cry out, but my mouth was flooded with sperm and I was muzzled by the hardness of Lance's cock. I wanted to scream out, to cry out to the world for help, but all I could feel was the undulating throb of Billy's cock in my cunt, bleeding sperm into an open sore that would never heal.

Far away, like a whisper to my brain, a voice filtered down through the pastel layers of my orgasm. It was Mr. Burroughs, the old, old man, the cripple, the millionaire who had to buy his passion through the bodies of other people. He was shouting, gleefully, as if he too had somehow experienced an orgasm.

"Good, good!" he cried. "I knew you wouldn't disappoint me, Sally... I knew you wouldn't disapappoint me, Sally...! Good... Good...! Good! Good!"

CHAPTER NINE

Things began to go a little downhill for me after that night with Billy and Lance, although not immediately. I did enjoy the attention of the two men, I must honestly admit, and I did enjoy the one thousand dollar payment I received for making the film. And so, it wasn't too much of a surprise to me when I received a second call from Mr. Burroughs, coming directly from him.

He was very pleased with my performance, and he asked me frankly whether I would consider making a second film for him. I said no, feeling that I had explored the possibilities of that kind of experience as fully as I was able. I saw no sense in repeating the same thing over if it didn't open to me any other possible avenues of experimentation. That would be doing it solely for the money, and that simply was no motivation enough for me.

I was surprised, however, when he did offer me a new possibility of experience. "I throw parties," he said, "for some of my very special friends and clients, and I am in constant need of new... entertainment for these parties."

"What kind of parties?" I asked.

He thought for a moment. "Intimate parties," he answered cryptically. "Would you care to be a part of this entertainment, my dear?"

He was talking about my performing in a live sex show, in front of an audience of men and women. I considered this for a long while, and honestly, I found myself fascinated by the prospect of doing something as... perverted, as daring as performing sexually for an audience. Unlike the films, I could gauge the immediate response of those people watching me. I could hear how they reacted to me. I could see how they were responding to my getting fucked for their voyeuristic pleasure.

And yet, there seemed to be even one more positive incentive. Doing something like this is as far from being a suburban housewife as I could possibly imagine. It was at the other end of human experiences, at the other end of life's spectrum. Another new experience, another horizon, something new to explore, to see if it could possibly satisfy the restless urge, the nagging dissatisfaction, the empty hole in my life.

What could I say to him? The only answer I could have possibly given: of course I would do it.

J went to his house again, at night, and I was led to another room in the mansion. There I met another woman and three other men. Together, we were the performers. We smoked some marijuana and drank some wine to break the ice and get us in the mood, and we were led out onto a stage. The curtain went up, and out before us was an audience of men and women, all as naked as we were. Our stage performance began, and I got fucked in every possible position by every possible man, sometimes taking on two or the three at once. I even was fucked up the ass by the woman. She strapped on a dildo, and while she was fucking me in the ass, she was being fucked in the ass by one of the three men. I must have come twenty or thirty times during the course of the night, and my body was completely soaked with sperm, sweat and the slimy discharge of cuntal juices.

The night ended as an orgy -- my first real orgy -- when the men and women of the audience climbed onto the stage and joined in with us. There was fucking and sucking going on all over the place, everywhere you looked. It was the wildest night of my life.

I retired from prostitution after that night. My cunt, inside the canal, was literally raw from the friction of all that fucking. I bled for a week afterwards, and couldn't fuck for another month without sharp, burning pain.

Still, I didn't mind, and it didn't cost me anything. I was paid twenty-five hundred dollars for that night, and was given another five hundred dollar bonus from Mr. Burroughs for film rights to the performance and orgy. All the while we were "working", he had a full crew of cameramen, Lance included, capturing the whole night on film.

J wasn't sorry, really when I left this world of open sexuality. I had tried it, experienced it, but like everything else, it paled under a close examination. The edge, the sharp edge of intense pleasure simply was no longer there. I had done everything you could possibly do sexually. There was no further challenge in it. It got to the point where -- and I know this is going to sound strange -- but it really did get to the point where sex became... boring.

So, as has been my practice in the past, I moved on. My body needed a rest, I had money, security, a good place to live; now all I needed was a little time. Time to think, time to sort out a new direction, to see where my life would lead me this time.

I had reached the bottom, in a sense, I realized. I'd sort of sunk to a low point... to the point at which I had been willing to perform sexually for an audience, for pay. There was no way to go now other than up. Happiness simply wasn't there. I know: I tried it all.

So it was strange that at this point in my life I should have met someone like Rick Tanner. Fated, I guess would be a better word. Destined.

I met Rick through my job. After the month or so was over after the orgy at Burrough's house, I decided to try working again. I still had my old skills as a secretary, and I got a job working for a law firm, much like my first job after I had graduated from college. The money wasn't bad, certainly not as much as I had been making, but it was a nice change of pace. The men were interested in other things than fucking you. They treated you like a person and not like a cunt. Even the women were fascinatingly unique. They were so petty, so bitchy, with such little, small human problems, like what to cook for dinner or where to go on vacation. It was like a breath of fresh air, and I savored the freshness of this old, new world.

Rick didn't work for my company. He was an insurance agent, working for one of the largest insurance companies in the United States. My boss was a policy holder, and Rick came to the office to make some kind of adjustment in the policy. We got to talking, and he asked me out. I felt flattered. It was my first date in ten or twelve years.

I went out with Rick that night. It was nothing special. He picked me up at my apartment, we went out to dinner, then to a local movie, and had coffee later. We didn't make love that first date, although I did let him loss me goodnight. We didn't make love until after the fourth or fifth date, and then when we did, for some strange reason, I began to cry, as if I were a virgin again. Rick comforted me in his arms, stroking my hair. He told me he loved me. He told me he cared for me very much. He said he respected me for making love to him, for it showed him how warm, how human I was; how much I cared for him.

We went out several times after that, although I never allowed him to make love to me. We kissed heavily, petted, and once he fingered me to orgasm, but never full, naked sexual intercourse.

Until tonight Rick was coming over tonight, and he said he had something very special to tell me. I could guess what it was.

The doorbell rang, and I made some last minute touches in the mirror. "Just a moment," I shouted.

I rushed to the door. Rick was standing there, smiling. He had one hand hidden behind his back.

"Here, Sally," he said. He brought his hand out from behind his back. There was a bouquet of long-stemmed roses. "For you."

I grabbed the roses from his hand and crushed them to my breast. It had been so long since anyone had bothered to bring me flowers.

"They're... beautiful," I said softly, strangely close to tears. I hugged the flowers and sniffed at their perfume. "They're beautiful, Rick. Beautiful."

"They're for a beautiful woman," he said simply.

I blushed and my head spun. I closed the door, and together, with his arm through mine, Rick and I walked into the living room. Rick sat on the sofa.

"I'll put these in water," I said. "I'll be back in a second. Why don't you fix yourself a drink."

"I'll fix you one too," he said. "I want to celebrate tonight, Sally."

I stared at him curiously before I turned. My stomach fluttered and I felt light-headed and giddy. I had champagne in my blood, and it was going to my head. The smallest anticipatory twinge gripped my cunt, but I pushed the thought away from my awareness. If it's going to happen, I told myself, then let it happen naturally.

I smiled at Rick. He was gloriously handsome. Tall, dark wavy hair, jet black eyes, and a quick easy smile. His tan was so dark he almost looked like a Latin, and that somhow excited me. I wondered if he had hot, passionate blood. He reminded me of someone, but it bothered me that I couldn't place who it was. Maybe someone from my... other life. He was thirty-two, the same age as Peter, and he had his whole life before him.

"Hey," he said, smiling at me. "You better put those in water instead of standing there and mooning over them. You're dripping them all over the floor."

I flushed, then laughed. "I'm sorry, I forgot for a moment. I was just... thinking."

I turned, still smiling, and I got a vase from the kitchen. The cold water was filling the vase when I heard Rick's voice calling to me. I lowered the pressure, turning the faucet.

"What would you like to drink, Sally?" he asked.

"Do we have time for a drink?" I asked, being perverse. "Won't the film be starting soon?"

"We'll have time for this drink," he said. "Now, what would you like?"

I shrugged and shut the water. "Anything, honey. Whatever you're having will be fine." I began to arrange the flowers in the vase.

I cleared a spot on the coffee table for the flowers. They looked beautiful: they made the room look so bright and cheerful. I sat on the sofa next to Rick.

He handed me my drink. "Here you go, Sally."

"What are we celebrating?" I asked.

Rick laughed excitedly. He was like a little boy with a secret, trying to contain it. His happiness kept bubbling up and overflowing.

"All right," he said, "are you ready for this?"

The excitement was contagious. I giggled: "Yes! What is it, now?"

"I did it," he explained. "I did it. I finally went over the mark. Over the million dollar mark. I've sold over one million dollars in life insurance policies!"

"Oh, Rick! That's marvelous!" I shouted. I threw my arms around his neck, spilling my drink, and I tossed him. "That's wonderful, honey. Simply wonderful."

He nodded his head, excited himself. "I really did it, Sally. The million dollar mark. That exclusive club. And you want to hear the best part? Do you know what Mr. Kahn said to me? He told me I was the youngest agent to have ever done it in Western's history. The youngest and in the shortest space of time!"

"Oh, that's wonderful," I said again. I kissed his cheek. "Oh, I'm so happy for you, Rick. I know what this will mean to you."

He sipped his drink, then put it down impatiently. "It will mean everything for me. The big opportunity; the opening of the door. Ill be getting a substantial raise, but more important than that, I'll have to be considered for Ryder's job when he retires in September. A Vice Presidency, Sally. Think of that!"

I put my own drink down, placing it next to Rick's on the table. I kissed him softly on the lips.

"I'm proud of you, Rick," I whispered. I touched his soft handsome face. "I truly am."

He stared at me, his eyes becoming misty. There was a quaver of emotion in his voice. "Are you, Sally?" he asked. "You're not just... saying that, are you?"

I kissed him again, full on the lips, gently, tenderly. I moved my lips around in a slow, sensual circle, allowing the sweetness of the kiss to linger. Only our mouths touched, no other part of our bodies. It seemed appropriate somehow: it matched the intimacy, the solemnness of the moment.

Rick broke off the kiss. Emotion had drained his face until it was pale. His hand was trembling as he reached for his drink. He said: "I need this."

I stared at Rick and did not speak. Instead, I waited; I hoped.

He put the glass down again. "I love you, Sally," he said. "Very, very much."

Somehow the moment was awkward for me. I felt uncomfortable as I sipped nervously at my drink. "You told me that the other night, Rick. Do you remember?"

He nodded gravely. "Yes, and I'm saying it again. Sally, I love you. I love you very much."

I wanted to believe him; I ached to believe that it was so. Inside of me that old emptiness, the burning hole in my life needed to be filled with that love. Sperm couldn't fill it, nor could passion. Maybe it needed love.

"How can you say that, Rick?" I asked. "You hardly know me. Three weeks ago we were strangers."

"And who knows what we'll be to each other in three more weeks."

I stared mistily at him. "Don't say that, Rick. Not unless you mean it."

He touched my hand. "I do, Sally, I do mean it. I want you to... be my wife."

A shudder went through me. Images flashed through my mind, racing like a series of motion picture frames being shown too rapidly. I saw all the men, from Adam right down to that final night at Burrough's mansion. I shuddered as if I had seen a nightmare, a horror movie.

A door closed in my memory, shutting off the images. They were gone, forgotten, like all things of the past, as if they had never happened.

"Are you... serious, Rick?" I asked. I shook with the need to make this last and final change. This final metamorphosis. "Don't play games with me."

"Sally, I couldn't be more serious if I tried. I love you. I want to marry you."

My head began to spin. Marriage? I asked myself. Is that it? Is that what I need to be finally... happy? Marriage?

I tried to think. Maybe that's what has been missing from my life -- stability. Lasting relations, emotional commitments, trust. Marriage.

But it was more than just marriage, I saw. It was the whole emotional commitment I would be making to the idea of marriage. To marriage as a life-style!

Rick has a good job, one that will lead to promotions, advancement. That's something solid, stable, sound, secure. You, could build a life on that kind of foundation. A steady job, respectability, a husband who loves me, perhaps a family some day, and maybe, maybe a home of our own, in the country, away from the noise and the dirt and the pollution of the city. A future. A real future!

Rick's eyes were large and dark and open, waiting for my answer. I touched his face and caressed him. He was so strong, so confident. I needed that.

I tried the other way of life. I tried the freedom, the wandering, the self-indulgence. It didn't work. I didn't find what I need in it. It didn't make me happy. Perhaps it's time, I thought. Time for Sally Bryant to settle down... again.

"Do you really want to marry me, Rick?" I asked, my voice trembling.

He shook with emotion. There were tears in his eyes. "Yes..." he gasped. "Yes... yes... yes, I do!"

I gripped his hand tightly. "Make love to me, Ricky," I said. "Please, Ricky, my love, my lover... make love to me!"

We came together, like two magnets. Like vines on a tree, our arms entwined. I kissed him hard on the lips, and his tongue pushed into my mouth. I sucked it, tasting the sweetness of his breath. I gave him my tongue, as a gift of my love, and he accepted it in his mouth.

"Oh, my God... I love you, Sally," he moaned. Rick's fingers worked on my blouse, parting it. His hands fumbled with my bra, pushing it down. He fondled my naked breasts, pinching the nipples until they were stiff with fire. "Jesus, believe me... I love you, Sally!"

I kissed his mouth hard, shutting off the flow of words. I placed my tongue between his lips, and he drew it back into his mouth. His hands worked feverishly on my breasts.

Passion began to work between the lips of my cunt. It had been so long since I had last been made love to. Only once, with Rick, in the long weeks since the orgy. I needed a man. My body burned with desire.

I reached down between us, and I touched Rick. He sighed with excitement and stabbed his tongue into my mouth. My fingers curled around the stiffness of his rod, brushing it up and down through the straining material of his pants. The heat of his erection burned into my palm, and I hardly minded that he wasn't as endowed as some of the men I've been with. But it didn't matter. All that mattered was that he loved me and I loved him.

There! I've said it! I've admitted it to myself. I love you Rick Tanner!

I opened his zipper and pulled out his cock. He was very hard and very, very hot. I caressed him expertly with my fingers, and he moaned.

"My God... Sally!" he cried. "That feels so... wonderful!"

I scooped out his balls and rolled them about in my hands. They felt elusive: hard and soft, squishing under the pressure of my fingers. I could feel the hair curling between my fingers as I tried to smooth out the wrinkled fiesh.

"My... vagina," I said, pressing my cunt against the loose hardness of his cock. "Touch me... there, Rick. Please!"

His hand came tentatively down, and he placed it between my well-parted thighs. I pressed the swollen mound against his hand, and I sighed when I felt his fingers curling down and under. I hunched up and down against him, spreading the wetness of my hand, and I was afraid he would come. I let go of the stiff rod.

"Touch me... under my skirt," I said. Rick I squeezed into his cock, jerking him off.

He began to breathe very heavily, sucking in breath and expelling it hotly. His cock throbbed in my hands, and I was afraid he would come. I let go of the stiff rod.

"Touch me... under my skirt," I said. Rick trembled against me. "Put your hand on it."

He fumbled with the side button on, my skirt, and finally I had to help him with it. The skirt parted, and I stepped out of it. Together we pushed my panties down my legs. I laid back on the sofa and parted my thighs.

"Make love to me, Ricky!" I moaned. My eyes were closed and I was thinking, remembering, dreaming, "Put it in... your thing... put it in me. Make... love to me!"

Rick came down between my thighs, trembling. He pushed his smallish cock against my cunt, but he could not get it in. He tried once or twice, thrusting uselessly against my thigh. He moaned in frustration, as if he were in pain. I reached down between us and guided his cock into my body. He felt the warmth, the wetness, and he thrust himself forward, savagely.

"Oh my God!" he cried. "Sally... My God!"

I squeezed down around the shaft of his cock, and Rick began to come almost immediately. His cock simply opened up and he began to flow, pumping his sperm up into the wet hollow of my pussy.

"Ricky!" I cried. "Ricky!"

I didn't mind that he was coming; really, I didn't I hunched up against him, crushing my cunt against his belly. I could feel his balls expanding and contracting between the wet slit of my oozing cunt. I really didn't mind.

I was happy, I realized. Rick was coming in my cunt, and I was happy. It would last this time, I knew it. This happiness was real. I could feel it; I sensed it. It would last. It had to!

The search, my long, unsatisfied search was finally over. I had found what I was looking for. I had been correct -- it was there, just where I thought it would be, just behind the next hill, over the next horizon, in the very next experience. The grass was greener there... I knew it would be, I knew it, I knew it, I knew it!

"Ricky," I moaned. The sperm from his deflating cock was oozing all over my dripping pussy. I knew I could tell him -- about Peter, about my other life. He would understand, I knew he would. We could get married now. We could fly together to Mexico. I could divorce Peter. And then Ricky and I would get married. "Ricky, darling!"

He moaned against my breast. "What... Sally?"

I kissed his sweet mouth. "Ask me again, darling," I said. "Ask me again."

He sobbed and pushed his lifeless cock against the spermy lips of my cunt. "Would you marry me, Sally?" His voice was shrill with hope. "Would you?"

I wrapped my thighs around his hips, and I squeezed him with my arms. I said: "Yes, darling. Yes... Yes... Yes!"

THE END