HP10-280 

Swimsuit Sinners 

by Ralph Burch


Chapter 1


"There's a naked girl swimming in the ocean," said the young man.

The older man chuckled. "That's beach life." Then he did a double take, 
as he steered their motorboat into deeper water.

"Naked? No clothes?"

"She's bare all right," said Phil. His binoculars were plastered on the 
swimming figure.

"That's new!" said George, the older man, eyes gleaming. "Even in 
Atlantic City." Then his eyes dulled. "Probably ugly." He knew life 
usually let you down.

Phil Griffin adjusted the glasses, frowning in concentration.

"No. She's luscious. What a . . . breast stroke . . . go faster."

"Wish I could," said George Panther. "There's a problem with our gas 
supply."

The rest of his words were drowned in a roar as Phil reached over and 
jerked the throttle of the outboard motor full open. The motorboat 
surged forward, drowning out George's, "Hey!"

The swimming figure that Phil wanted to inspect was well out in the 
bay, almost halfway to a yacht that rode the waves across from the 
Atlantic City boardwalk. The nude swimmer seemed headed for that yacht.

The roar of the engine made further talk impossible. George Panther 
contented himself with steering grimly to avoid running down the less 
interesting swimmers here close to shore. By this time he already had a 
good idea of who the target swimmer was, and he knew she'd be mad when 
they caught up with her. The motorboat waves would make her bob in the 
ocean and lose strokes. But he also knew this Phil Griffin and didn't 
want to argue.

George shook his head as he watched his young partner. Phil Griffin was 
handsome, well-built and impetuous. At twenty-seven he was one of the 
best swim trainers for Olympic endurance swimmers in the nation, but he 
had this fault . . . .

Right now Phil was both enjoying the sight of the girl's body and 
rating her athletic power, George guessed.

He was right about that. "Not bad," said Phil in a murmur that George 
couldn't hear. At first Phil had hoped that the swimmer was Madeleine 
Metcalf, the women he'd come three thousand miles to find, but he could 
see it wasn't her. She was, however, a powerful swimmer, cleaving the 
water with a steady two-mile-an-hour stroke that was professional. And 
she was sexy.

It would be good to talk to this stranger. Ever since Phil had left 
California, he'd feared he might not get his prize swimmer, Maddy 
Metcalf back. If not, he'd need a replacement, and this girl was worth 
an interview.

Of course Maddy came first. Absolutely. Still, as he scanned the trim 
lines of the unknown swimmer, he felt a rising excitement. Even if she 
had a trainer, or belonged to a club, he might get a date. After all, 
he was a stranger in town with no black book of numbers to turn to.

Watching Phil with sardonic amusement, George also guessed Phil's 
secondary interest. George was Maddy Metcalf's uncle. She'd told him 
plenty about her training time with Phil. Phil and Maddy had worked to 
get her on the U.S. Olympic swim team two years ago, in 1924, pointing 
for the Paris meeting. Gradually they slipped into a hot affair so 
heavy that Maddy broke training and didn't make the team. Afterwards 
she fled Phil.

For two years Phil had been obsessed with getting Maddy back. He swore 
he'd put her in the 1928 Olympics two years from now and get her two or 
three gold medals. Maybe, thought George, if Phil could stay away from 
sex.

The engine stopped. Just like that. One moment they roared along, 
cutting through the waves, gaining on the swimmer. The next the motor 
died abruptly and they slithered through the water, slowing to a stop.

"What's wrong!" cried Phil in agony.

"I told you I was about out of gas," said George. "Full throttle burns 
it up too fast. If we'd puttered along . . . ."

Phil glared up, stood up and started to take off his clothes.

"You're going in the water?" asked George, astonished.

Phil stripped rapidly.

"I might as well say hello to her."

Clothes off, Phil wore bathing trunks, not conventional shorts. Phil 
never bothered with shorts. He stepped to the edge of the boat.

"Tell 'em on the yacht to send out some gas," said George. "I'm 
stranded."

"Maybe the girl isn't swimming to the yacht."

"She is. That's my backer's daughter, Flair Singleton," said George.

But Phil was gone, cleaving the water in an expert dive that left 
George's motorboat rocking only gently.

Alone in the boat George pondered the situation as he watched Phil cut 
through the water like some goddam porpoise. What a swimmer. Only the 
young man's wound in the Kaiser's war prevented him from winning his 
own gold medals. On land you'd never know, but the water knew, he was 
permanently slowed down.

George pulled out a hip pocket flask, inhaled some slightly cut gin and 
considered the possibilities. He had oars; he could row ashore for gas, 
but he was broke. He could also row to the yacht and get free gas, but 
that also took effort. With the wisdom of his forty-five years, he 
decided to wait until Phil sent rescue. It would come soon because 
Flair Singleton was no Maddy Metcalf. Maddy still had a soft spot for 
Phil, despite her anger at him. Flair on the other hand was a bitch 
virgin with warm spots for no man. Phil would get a fast shuffle. With 
a sigh of contentment, George laid down on a seat, rested his flask on 
his chest and began to daydream future glories, staring up at a blue 
sky of an August, 1926, afternoon in Atlantic City, New Jersey . . . . 

"Hello there," said Phil swimming up to the girl.

"Beat it," said the girl. "Twenty three and a big skidoo."

"I'm Phil Griffin. I train women swimmers," Phil offered.

"I've heard of you. I've heard you were coming. My father's nurse is 
Maddy Metcalf. She used to swim for you."

"Uh," grunted Phil. Not so good . . . if Maddy'd said too much.

Phil was aware of the girl's sleek, gorgeous body. She must be twenty 
or so, with blonde features and a smooth, tanned skin. She had meat on 
her bones, but was beautifully proportioned. He could tell she was also 
an endurance swimmer, being able to talk so easily in the water.

"Headed for the yacht, huh?" said Phil.

"Yes. It belongs to my father, Victor Singleton. I'm Flair."

Victor Singleton would be George's backer, the pharmaceutical executive 
from New Jersey inland, Phil knew.

"Is Maddy on the boat?" he asked. "I've come all the way from 
California to see her. I guess you know that. I have a new project for 
her."

"She's not on the yacht," said Flair. "She hates you. I can see why. 
You're too fresh."

"Listen, I was just admiring your stroke. As a professional trainer . . 
. ."

"Take off your trunks."

"What?"

"When I'm stripped, I don't allow clothed swimmers alongside."

"How come you're stripped?"

"Dad gave me a bathing suit. I tried it out. It belongs on somebody's 
old maid aunt."

A real flapper, thought Phil. A wild girl of the Twenties, a rich man's 
reckless daughter.

Flair suddenly stopped swimming and for seconds Phil was treated to the 
sight of two magnificent breasts, nude, with big, pink centers. 
Treading water she let herself sink her glories just out of sight.

"Strip or skip," she insisted.

Phil felt a thrill of erotic feeling. To swim with this beauty, it was 
a small price to pay. He doubled his body and his trunks were gone.

"I'm really only interested in your style," he said, grinning. "Maybe 
you could swim in my new project."

"Maybe you want to screw me in the ocean," she shot back. "Maddy 
confessed you tumbled her once in a pool."

"A pool, maybe. The ocean, no," said Phil. "It's the waves."

It was too bad, too, because going naked had sent thrills and tempting 
rushes through his belly. His cock had slowly begun to stiffen just at 
the realization of being out here all alone with a beautiful, naked 
girl. A wild one. Their bodies touched. For a second he felt warm, 
silken flesh lubricated by the water.

"From what Maddy says you'll figure a way to beat the waves and invent 
ocean sex," said Flair dryly.

The conversation was not going the way Phil liked. This kid was too 
forward. She'd shot him two insults inside of a minute. That got his 
back up.

"So I've got the name," he told her. "I might as well have the game."

He reached out and ran one hand down the sweet slope of Flair's naked 
back. Gently he squeezed the satin smooth globe of one buttock, slick 
from the water. Let's see how Miss Tart Lip took that!

No scream. No slap. Instead she calmly reached down and grabbed his 
half-erect cock.

"Oh!" said Phil.

She squeezed it as he had her buttocks, but in the awkward way women 
handled men's pricks. Then she pumped it and that felt very, very good. 
Phil felt an awesome rush of pleasure. He'd been five days on the train 
coming East, with no dates, and not much before that. His balls were 
loaded. His blade powered up to full erection in only a few of her hand 
strokes.

"Ah-huh!" he gasped.

"That's my best stroke," she said.

"Uh. I've g-got one too," he said. He felt along her warm inner thigh 
and up between her legs. Her cunt was right where it was supposed to 
be, a bush above, two soft lips in his hand and warmth inside.

"Ah-huh!" she gasped in her turn as his fingers bored in.

For a wild few seconds they treaded water, mutually masturbating each 
other, as if seeing how far the outrage between perfect strangers could 
go. Phil's cock throbbed with intense pleasure. He could feel her 
quivers as he probed inside of her cunt.

Flair suddenly released his jabber. "Why am I doing this?" she asked 
the ocean. "I don't care about your stupid prong. Finish yourself. Uh, 
uh!"

She gave another gasp at his invading fingers that had worked a short 
way inside of her box and expertly pressed on her clitoris. She eased 
her loins off his hand. She began to swim away rapidly.

Phil stared after her in awe as he tread water.

"You're a virgin!" he cried after her, astonished. His fingers had told 
him the truth. A flapper she might be, and wild, but no man had invaded 
that glorious belly. Probably because of her tart lip, he thought.

She scolded him over her shoulder.

"That's right, Mr. Prick!" she cried. "Shout it to the world. Yell it 
to the Boardwalk. I'm proud of it and no man will ever change it. 
Especially you!"

She swam on, while Phil looked back over his shoulder. George's boat 
drifted some distance away. There was no sign that Panther tried to 
rescue himself by rowing. The yacht looked closer.

He saw Flair reach the yacht's landing platform at water level, saw a 
white uniformed servant come down the ladder to hand her a large towel 
to cover her nakedness. She stood there a moment staring at Phil across 
the water. A warm wave blurred his vision; when he cleared it, he saw 
her final gesture of contempt. She deliberately opened her towel to 
expose herself fully for a second, then closed it and went on up the 
ladder.

"Bitch," he groused. But he was still hard. That body was as shapely a 
figure as he'd seen in all his twenty-seven years. Wasted on a hard 
personality, he thought. Sadly he swam on to the yacht.

No servant greeted him. Nor was there anyone on sight on the deck.

Naked, he felt very exposed, but no one came into view. The boat tugged 
gently at its anchor like some ghost ship without humanity aboard. 
Weird!

Silence. Creaking anchor chain. Sunny deck. Ahead of him were twin 
doors of some master cabin. He went through, anxious to hide his 
nudity. He found himself in a glass-walled living room, carpeted, with 
a bar, chairs and tables. The carpet was thick and new, the furniture 
gleaming brown wood. Old Singleton must really be rich because this was 
ultimate luxury, a craft more than a hundred feet long, with glittering 
appointments, solid wood, shining brass, eye-blinding whiteness of 
white paint. He dripped a little water on the rug.

No humans. No sound. It was spooky, all right. He crossed the big cabin 
to a door at the other end. It opened into a hall, empty, with closed 
doors on the left and right. Sleeping quarters for the millionaire? 
There was a bright blue carpet with an embroidered "S". New. It felt 
good on his feet and he made no sound.

He walked down the hallway, half the length and stopped at a big door 
on his right. Should he knock? Or just barge in? He stood uncertainly 
in front of the door.

There was a sudden rush of feet and he felt his arm grabbed and twisted 
up behind him. A solid body hit his and drove him through the door, as 
he grunted in surprise. His arm was locked up behind him. He and his 
attacker burst through the door, and it was a bedroom, right enough. 
There was a huge bed with a satin spread and an "S" embroidered on it.

The surprise of the sudden attack had caught him off guard, but now he 
brought his strength into play. His assailant had to use both arms to 
pin his one arm but slowly he was able to pull it loose. His attacker 
pressed against his making him realize that it was a woman, that she 
was nude, that it was Flair Singleton. The smooth skin, the warm flesh 
were dead giveaways. He jumped forward out of her grasp, ending in the 
middle of the room.

"Aha!" she said. She spun around and locked the cabin door.

He stared at her thunderstruck. She was still baby naked. Close up, out 
of the water, he got the full effect of her unclad body. She had a 
beautiful face with a pug nose and those bright blue eyes. Her thick 
hair was wet, of course, much darker than it would be when dried and 
coifed. She had broad shoulders for a woman but they matched her 
powerful but softly curved body. There was the shapely torso, soft rib 
cage, sexy belly button and flat belly.

"Aha?" he asked, swallowing hard.

Her eyes dropped to his crotch. His cock still jutted out stiff from 
his belly. In his loaded condition, the blood would seep away most 
slowly and reluctantly. His prick wanted to deliver its load of manhood 
into the world.

She walked up to him. She took his big prodder in both of her warm 
hands.

"Would you believe that I've never touched a man's sex until yours in 
the water a few minutes ago?"

Her voice was softer. She looked shy.

"In-interesting," he said. He was so stricken by her beauty, by that 
tanned, silken skin, the glow of health, the voluptuousness of her body 
that his mind felt thick, non-functioning.

"My father protects me. My father won't let me have anything to do with 
sex," she said. "Is it all right if I look at you?"

"Why . . . why not?" he stammered, still transfixed.

Her hands had thrilled him. Now she opened them to look closely at his 
cock, bending down with those great breasts slightly extended.

He felt a sweet rush of desire from his sex centers up and down his 
spine. She rubbed and stroked the mushroom shape of his swollen cock 
head, pumped the skin on the shaft. He gave a gurgle of pleasure as 
thrills shot through him.

"Ohhhhhh."

"That feels good, doesn't it?"

"Baby, that feels incredible! What you've got there is a length of 
muscle made hard by the rush of blood to the organ, which swells and 
makes the skin tight, but the skin can move a little and excite a 
million and a half pleasure nerves so that a man walks up on his toes, 
creaming and crooning. Ahhh. We call it masturbation."

"Like this?"

She pumped his cock vigorously.

"Oh, baby!" he cried. "You'll cause an explosion. I've got enough stuff 
inside to blow off your hands."

"You've got to explain sex to me," she insisted. "It's my one chance of 
a lifetime. Dad never lets me go out alone. He hires guards. But 
they're away, he's away." Suddenly on the ocean I'm with a man, he's 
naked, and his thing is risen hard. I can't pass this up."

She was so different than on the ocean that Phil couldn't believe it. 
In the water she was tough, mature. Out of the water she was totally 
innocent. Or playing so.

"Get on the bed," she said.

Phil didn't know what to do. All his life he'd ruined chance after 
chance to get ahead by falling into sex. Somebody's wife, somebody's 
sweetheart, or some of his students. On this trip East he'd sworn to 
put business before pleasure. Now this.

As long as she pumped on his blade he was willing to stand there and 
let nature take its course. He was crazy to shoot off his load. But now 
she stopped and crudely walked him to the bed by pulling on his cock so 
he had to follow. It was the cruelty of innocence, as if she could not 
release the wonder organ that her father had kept her away from all her 
life.

He went to the bed. He sat on the bed. She sat beside him.

"You have a c-cock," she said. "I have a c-cunt. I can hardly say the 
word. I call it my box." She actually blushed. She opened her legs and 
before his horrified eyes stroked her delicate pink instrument to make 
her fingers gleam with girl essence. Her cunt was as swollen as his 
prick.

She anointed his blade with her warm girl oils. He fucked up lusciously 
into her fist, smelling musk, thrilling, crazed for sex.

"Prin . . . princess in a locked tower," he said.

"What?"

"Nothing. Let's get back to my cock and your cunt." He groaned. This 
birds and bees stuff was going to put him right back in the dark hole, 
like with Maddy.

"Cu . . . box!" she cried. "That word's so sexy! I wish I could say 
it."

She jumped up and straddled his lap. While he stared at her in horror 
and delight, she fitted her cunt to his cock and sat on his stiffness. 
His prong immediately nudged into her about an inch and stopped, 
hitting her hymen. He felt her slick oils. He felt her intense inner 
body heat. His entire cock head was gripped tightly by her virgin 
opening. Great thrills of desire-joy swept up his body. He was on fire 
to grab her hips and fuck her deeply, crazily.

"I . . . ahhhh!" he moaned.

"Oh, we won't do anything," she promised him. "I'm just learning 
things. Ah. Eeee! Yes, I'm just putting things together."

She bounced a little. He almost died. Somehow both his hands pressed 
tightly against the richest naked globes he'd ever touched. Hot, hard 
nipples dug at his palms. Jelly-firm breast flesh warmed his hands. He 
sweated. He moaned. As she jiggled he felt a slight tearing of her 
maidenhead.

It was too much. He grabbed her shoulders and forced his mouth on those 
flaired lips, feeling soft flesh, wetness, sensing her sweet, young 
breath. He ruthlessly drove his tongue into her mouth.

Blue eyes shot wide. For a second his tongue reamed her silken mouth, 
trying to fuck down her throat. Silken saliva laved and smeared him. He 
thrilled.

She jerked free, sputtering. "What did you do that for? That's 
repulsive! Ughhhh!" She shook her head. He could see the fast beat of 
her pulse in her throat. Her lovely face was pink with the blush of 
sexuality.

He gripped her hips and dug his prick against her hymen. It tore some 
more. She jerked and gave a small scream, while his ruthless cock 
throbbed happily and he felt the exultation of virgin blood run down 
his shaft.

He was pretty well imbedded in her cunt. Maybe two glorious inches.

"I thought we weren't going to do anything," she whined. "It hurts."

"That's right. We have to stop," he said. God! But he was right. One 
tiny, stainless steel thread of reason held his pleasure-crazed body 
back. He must not wreck this trip East with stupid sex, not even with 
this princess, not even with a virgin. He'd had virgins. He'd had 
Maddy. There'd been a few others.

She got up off his lap. They both stared down at her crotch, silently 
watching a thrilling trickle of blood join the gleam of her sex-
welcoming oils on her satin inner thighs.

She put her finger just inside her cunt lips and made a circular 
motion. She moaned.

"That's my sex center, isn't it?"

"Clitoris, yes." He swallowed and felt his breath rushing in his 
throat. God, what a sweet agony.

"It feels so great there. Your penis felt great in my cu-box."

"Cunt."

"Oh, heavens. If you say that word again, I'll die!"

She fell back on the bed, legs wide apart. Phil felt he was the one who 
was about to die. He thought she might be somehow seducing him, yet 
that didn't make sense. She had the most authentic hymen he'd ever 
encountered. She was a total virgin.

"I have to learn," she said. "It's my one chance in a lifetime. Dad'll 
keep me a virgin till I'm forty and dried up. Put it back in."

"Put it back in? Listen, Flair, if I do your maidenhead is gone."

"Nonsense. Put it back in."

He looked down at her virginal beauty, soft face, voluptuous body, 
those high, perfect breasts, those thrilling hips and thighs and the 
steel restraint snapped. He mounted her. He dug his cock back into her 
cunt. He shoved. She gasped as more gristle gave way and more blood 
flowed. He grunted as he felt the exquisite pleasure of deflowering 
this beauty.

"Ouch. Say the word."

"Cunt."

"Uh!" This time she bucked on his prodder and more tearing took place. 
"Ohhhh," she cried. "I can't stand it."

"I think I can stop. Otherwise it's a fuck."

"Uh!" She bucked once more on his penis. Evidently that word also 
stirred her.

"Cunt," he said.

"Uh!" she went. Her eyes were shining as her face grimaced with pain. 
More hymen went. The blood flowed now.

"Oh, Jesus, goddam, fuck your cunt!" he cried and cruelly rammed his 
cock against her maidenhead with fury. She screamed and came off the 
bed, her buttocks squeezing, her belly tense to his as he battered her 
gristle away and sank deep into her tunnel.

"Stop!" she ordered. "I can't stand it!"

He stopped. He was half worn out with the thrills and rushes of delight 
in his belly from pronging against this thick hymen. Now he had five of 
his seven inches buried in that ripe but tight belly and to all intents 
and purposes she had been fully deflowered.

She looked up at him and seemed dazed.

"We can't go on. Your thing is eight inches long and two inches 
around."

"Seven. Only an inch and a half."

"We have to stop."

"Cunt," he teased her. "I want your cunt."

She suddenly locked her legs around his back and gave a series of 
heavenly sex bunts on his prodder. His cock oozed in until it lightly 
touched her womb wall.

"You're fucked!" he gasped, his prick dry-throbbing madly. He almost 
fainted from the intense heat, the sweet friction, the surging throw 
desire in his guts. He'd never had such sex pleasure.

"Oh, oh, oh," she went, thrusting on his cock, impaling herself. Mixed 
blood and oil gave fabulous service to his sliding shaft. Her eyes got 
big. She began to lift under him. She was so strong that she could lift 
his weight.

"Something's going to happen!" she cried.

He was astounded. Most girls did not enjoy deflowerment, nor have 
orgasms that first time. Not at the moments of battering.

He grunted and began to rock his prick rapidly in and out of her tight 
cunt.

"Phil!" she cried.

He could not help her in this exquisite moment of fast prick friction. 
He was totally lost in the sweet, hot flesh, the enveloping, satiny 
package of her body and especially in that tight little deflowered 
heaven she called her box.

"Uh, uh, uh, Flair" Want you . . . want your body, your being," he 
gasped, flexing and ramming her wildly.

"Ohhhhhh!"

Her big body strained up, locked and her cunt went into spasms. Throb, 
throb, throb. She sighed and fell back on the bed, only to shoot up 
again, buttocks tight, loins grinding his. Throb, throb, throb.

"Ahhhhhh," she keened.

He could've expected it. A magnificent body like this would produce 
fierce, healthy girl orgasms. He drove her through her pleasure spasms 
while she whined and keened and throbbed, finally to fall back under 
him on the satin spread, exhausted, face shining with moisture, eyes 
dazed.

It was all his now. He ached all over and thrilled to ecstatic heights 
as he drew close to his own moment of glory. Pure erotic delight sang 
up and down his whole body as he panted to plant his manhood deep in 
her cunt, against her waiting womb. He fucked hotly.

Suddenly the giant fist of orgasm gripped his belly, thighs, cock and 
balls. He went tight and paralyzed with a wounded grunt.

"Uh, huh, huh!"

He went dizzy. He felt spinning, exalting leaps of pleasure. Virgin 
cunt deflowered and won!

Spurt, spurt, spurt. Gorgeous shots of jism unlocked his packed, 
congested sex system. The relief and good feeling were incredible.

"Ahhhhh!"

Spurt, spurt, spurt. So much, a continent of sperm throbbing and, 
gushing out of his reservoirs. He had climbed straight up to joyous 
lust heaven.

"Uh, ah, ah, ah!"

She was his passive receptacle, the sexy, dazed woman clinging to him, 
powerless to stop his hands from holding her cunt glove tight to his 
belly as he pumped her body full of his manhood and meaning, centering 
every drop deep, deep into her belly. She jerked a little in surprise 
as she felt his virile sperm shots.

"Hoooo," she sang. "I think I'm wet. I'm really wet. I think you've got 
an ocean in me."

Finally he was empty and glowing. It felt so good that he just folded 
down on her soft yet firm body completely lust-emptied, feeling as if 
he were no longer the same man who had swum alongside this sexy 
creature. Those weeks of abstinence had turned him into a wired up 
crazy man. He felt human, good, open and friendly. Happy beyond 
description.

"Flair, that was the best I ever had."

"Better than Maddy?" she asked in surprise.

Careful now. "It was incredible," he said.

The door to the bedroom began to reverberate with blows. He heard 
shouts and, wood smashing as somebody knocked the wooden door in and it 
splintered and gave way with a crash. A whole horde of men suddenly 
appeared.

He looked back in astonishment over his shoulder. He was too weak from 
the sex to move off the taken girl's body.

Actually it was only four men standing there, glaring down at him and 
Flair, still fuck-locked on the bed.

One of them was George Panther, rescued somehow from the sea. Another 
was a tall, fierce-looking man with white hair and hard, ominous eyes. 
He decided in a flash that this had to be George's rich man, the 
pharmaceutical millionaire, Flair's father. The guards puzzled him. 
They were two young guys about his age and they looked like real 
hoodlums, not hired guards from Pinkerton's. They had guns in their 
hands.

They marched up to the bed. They ripped Phil off Flair's body. For a 
second everybody in the room saw the fruits of recent lust, a big red 
stain on the figure "S" and a wet center of sperm and oils where lovers 
had locked.

Flair gave a scream, jumped up and rushed through a door that had to be 
the stateroom's bath. That left Phil in the grip of two husky, armed 
men. They marched him up to the white-haired man. The older man stared 
down at Phil's lower belly, stained with his daughter's virginal blood.

George Panter tried to make the best of it.

"Mr. Singleton, I'd like you to meet . . . uh . . . Phil Griffin. He's 
just come to Atlantic City."

Those hard eyes drilled Phil with fury. "He came all right."

"Muh-Mr. Singleton, I know in the pharmaceutical business, you people 
are like doctors, so I would ask you to judge . . . ." Phil didn't know 
what he was saying. He'd been dragged from utter bliss to utter tragedy 
in less than a minute.

"Me a druggist?" howled Singleton. "What the shit! I ain't no druggist. 
I'm New Jersey's biggest and toughest bootlegger. They call me Vicious 
Vic Singleton, but not to my face. Only I get to call me that to my 
face."

"Bee-bootlegger?" squeaked Phil. "George didn't say."

"You fucked my daughter," cried Vicious Vic. "I've been saving her 
virgin state for a bigshot wedding and you got the blood all over my 
"S". You crummy prick, you're dead!"

It was almost a shriek. Phil stared in ultimate horror at the men, at 
George who was sheet-white and shaking his head.

"I think you made a mistake, Phil. I have to say that, boy. I hope you 
understand."

One of the hoods raised his gun.

"You prick!" shrieked Vicious Vic. "Who told you to shoot him in here? 
You'll get blood and brains all over my new rug, you stupid fucker. 
Outside is where you shoot him!"

"I can explain," said Phil as they dragged him through the door. "I was 
merely trying to answer the young lady's questions about sex."

But he knew he could never explain and that his life was over. He'd 
deflowered the precious daughter of a bootleg gangster, the most savage 
breed of men alive in America.



Chapter 2


Phil had been wounded in the World War, so he knew danger; he even knew 
the stress of facing immediate death. But this afternoon he'd had a 
long swim and then delicious but exhausting sex, so he felt weak when 
Singleton's two thugs dragged him out on deck. He needed a few moments 
to recover. No man who ever had sex with Vic Singleton's ripe daughter 
was going to be able to climb into the prize ring right after!

George Panther chatted nervously as he tried to cool the bootlegger 
down. Vicious Vic had towed George to the yacht in his larger launch 
shortly before, enthusing that he'd just met a Boston blueblood who'd 
make a great match for Flair. Vic dreamed of society status now that he 
had money, so he'd invited the young man to the yacht for dinner.

On the yacht frightened servants told Vic's group that Flair had 
ordered all the help out of sight and somehow lured this stranger into 
the main bedroom. It was the worst possible time for Phil to have come 
along and deflowered Singleton's daughter. But Panther spoke up.

"Remember, Vic, this young guy can help with our water show at the 
aquarium," he babbled, hanging on to Vic's arm.

The gangster just said, over and over: "You bastard! You've ruined my 
daughter for a big shot wedding. You've ruined her!" And the two thugs 
lugged Phil out on deck.

"If we shoot him on the right side of the boat nobody from shore can 
see," said one thug.

"But we could throw the body over easier from the back of the boat," 
countered the other.

"It's not the right side of the boat, you punk!" sang Vic. "It's the 
goddam starboard side. The left side's your port side."

"The rear of the boat?" asked the second.

"The stern, you asshole."

While this curious instruction went on, Phil felt some of his strength 
return. His active life made him far stronger than Singleton's hoods. 
He gave a shove to the left and sent one man reeling. He gave the other 
a shove to the right, not caring which was port, which was starboard. 
The second man went down to skitter along the deck. Then Phil bounded 
toward the rail.

He planned to do a magnificent Doug Fairbanks leap from the high rail 
down into the water and swim to safety. Flair Singleton stopped him. 
She glided from nowhere to a place in front of him to shove the barrel 
of a sawed-off shotgun into his middle.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"Unk!" Phil stopped dead with both barrels prodding his belly. At least 
the girl had covered her essential parts with the big towel.

"He's ruined you, baby!" cried Vic. "He has to die!"

"You're not going to kill my husband-to-be!" she shot back.

"Hub-husband?" said Vic, thunderstruck.

"You always said I had to save my girlhood for my husband. Since he 
took it, he has to marry me."

Father and daughter glared at each other. Phil broke it up.

"A shotgun wedding with the bride holding the gun?" cried Phil. He 
jerked the gun from Flair's grasp. He waved it to stop the chagrined 
hoodlums who'd recovered. "I thought all crazy people went to 
California. New Jersey's worse."

"My daughter's not marrying any poor, overmuscled California swim 
tramp. That's final," fumed Vic.

"Tramp!" yelled Phil. "You're the tramp! I teach Olympic swimmers, 
world-respected young athletes who compete for the highest honors of 
civilization. You sell booze, degrading every man, woman and child in 
this nation, pulling down society's standards, creating poverty and 
filth. You're the tramp, Singleton, and a punk besides."

"You're overstating, Phil," George warned.

"He has a point," murmured Flair.

But Vicious Vic looked from his determined daughter to the angry Phil 
and then at the menacing shotgun. His face relaxed.

"I was just letting off a little steam," he said quietly. "Let's all 
get dressed for dinner." 

Phil collected his clothes from George's boat and felt very sexy 
sitting there without his trunks underneath. They were floating 
somewhere in the ocean. But Flair had apparently had enough lessons in 
sex for one day; she all but ignored him. Nobody mentioned the earlier 
embarrassing incident, nor marriage. Instead father and daughter picked 
at each other, making Phil suspect that she'd used him to get back at 
her father. She was a cool female after all.

The Boston blueblood sent his regrets which made Singleton subdued. 
Meanwhile the dinner was delicious, a boiled terrapin with a sublime 
red sauce imported from Baltimore, prepared by the top chef in 
Baltimore's finest Shore Dinner establishment. It was rushed to 
Atlantic City by express train and messenger.

Phil and George gorged themselves at Vic's expense. Phil decided that 
if the bootlegger could spend money like this, he was a potential 
backer for Phil's California project with Maddy, so he remained in good 
humor. Singleton was morose and finally picked on George Panther.

"We've got to square away your dumb, two-bit water show," he said. 
"Phil, that's the least you can do for me after enjoying both my 
daughter and my dinner. Panther's roped me into this stupid girlie 
thing in some goddam converted aquarium where they used to show off 
fish but went broke."

George murmured that all his show needed was a little tightening and 
polishing.

"Polish, hell!" sang Vic. "Those girls are ugly and they swim like 
stones. One night one of 'em is going to drown! Phil, since you're such 
a bigshot, world-respected swim teacher, I want you to go over to that 
aquarium and straighten out this shit."

"I'll looked at it," Phil promised. After all, he had to stall until 
Maddy came to town.

Singleton explained to him that Maddy had been a nurse to his sick wife 
until she died. Now Maddy was on duty in New York with Vic's aged 
mother. She came down with the mother every couple of weeks or so.

Phil looked forward to that. It was a cinch that Flair was not going to 
swim for him, or sleep with him, much as he might desire either or 
both. So it was back to Maddy. The crafty girl had wisely picked up a 
profession at which she could make a living after the Olympic team 
failure. 

Phil and George chugged back over the water in George's small boat.

"That Flair's crazy," Phil fumed. "She teased me to romp with her and 
then turned herself off. Did you notice she hardly spoke to me at 
dinner?"

George sat back, flask in his lap, and watched Phil steer. He spoke 
from twenty-five years of experience in the hard world of show 
business.

"Flair doesn't want to marry nobody," he said. "I don't think Vic wants 
her to marry either. I think they've got it for each other but won't 
admit it. So you did 'em a favor, lifting her virginity. If some 
important guy did it, they might talk themselves into some lousy 
marriage. This way when a nobody takes it they don't have to worry."

"Thanks a lot," said Phil.

"Nothing personal," said George quickly. "Uh . . . how was she?"

"We're getting close to shore," countered Phil. "Where do I head in?" 

Phil almost died when he saw George's set-up. His show was in a musty 
old building on an insignificant street just off the Boardwalk. There 
was an ancient, faded sign "Wonders of the Sea" superseded by George's 
garish new one: Panther's Water Show Passion Pixies-Merry Mermaids-Cool 
Music-Hot Divers-Sexy Swimmers-Comedy Acts.

A separate sign informed the public that the one and only Texas Bunny 
Long, Chanteuse Extraordinaire, direct from Paris, sang ballads in an 
exclusive engagement.

Texas . . . Paris?

The show was even more drab than Phil had been told. Six listless 
girls, not really as bad looking as Vic had said, went through swimming 
formations with an embarrassing lack of skill, showing skin. Two guys 
did comic dives. Texas Bunny sang to a piano that George pounded with 
more verve than art. She was a real looker with some class compared to 
the others, but her voice sounded weak to Phil.

It cost $1.00 to get in and hard wooden benches served as seating. The 
place could only hold about one hundred people. The air stank of a 
fishy smell from the former occupants and there was a penetrating 
sweetish odor that Phil didn't recognize. Still, the house was full.

Sitting through the ghastly show, Phil realized that George had lured 
him East not so much to help his niece as to save himself from being 
dropped off the Steel Pier in cement overshoes by Vic.

After the first show, Phil cornered George.

"What you've got is a lousy show in a crummy auditorium isolated in a 
impossible location. Even at five dollars a head you'd lose money."

"Oh, I make a little. Singleton wants more."

"You make a little, with a payroll of eight swimmers and the doll 
singer?"

"Well," said George with a sly look, "the girls pay me, you see. I 
think they hook after the show. There's one of those 'boarding houses' 
with rooms that rent by the hour up the street. The guys come to the 
show to see the bodies before they rent 'em. But you see I don't let 
'em show too much. So I charge the girls instead of paying them."

"My God!" said Phil.

"Don't let Vic know about that. He'd think it lacks class," begged 
George.

"What about the platinum blonde, Texas Bunny. She must cost a bundle 
with her looks, even if her voice is weak."

"Oh, that's Vic's mistress. He pays for her. I charge him to give her 
show business experience."

"What a con. How about the men divers?"

"Oh, they siphon off a little and sell it on the side."

"Siphon? Sell?"

"Maybe you noticed the smell. We don't use water in the tank here. It's 
filled with ten thousand gallons of pure Canadian gin."

Phil felt his mind rock.

"Your water show - the girls swim in gin?"

"Right. It's Vic's storage vault. Doesn't hurt the stock for people to 
swim and dive in it. Alcohol kills germs. So the divers take a little 
home. I don't pay 'em, I don't charge 'em."

Flabbergasted, Phil said weakly, "And I suppose you sell some of your 
trusted audience a little."

"Oh, just a little, Phil. I don't want Vic's men to notice too much 
evaporation."

"Holy crumb!"

"So can you train those girls better?"

"I'm sure I can," laughed Phil, "if we can keep them sober!" 

Phil retired to George's office for the intermission and the second 
show. He couldn't bear to watch it all over again.

Swimming in gin? It was a nutty idea, but there was no reason why it 
couldn't work. In fact, he was tempted to swim in the stuff himself and 
maybe even sip a little. What a goofy set-up!

As for George . . . sleaze, sleaze, sleaze, since the days he'd sold 
patent medicines from the back of an ancient wagon, medicines laced 
with alcohol. Nothing had changed with George!

Phil passed the time by catching up on the news with some New York 
papers George had on his desk. There were two big stories that riveted 
his attention. Gertrude Ederle had just finished a successful English 
Channel swim, the first time by a woman, with a time-lapse that beat 
the best men's records. It looked like she'd come back to America a 
heroine with a ticker-tape parade down Broadway in New York and all the 
rest of the accolades.

Phil grinned happily. He'd followed Trudy's endurance swim faithfully. 
Her success meant that his California project was no longer a daydream. 
If Vic Singleton didn't buy it, some other millionaire would.

The other news was about Houdini's fabulous trick immersion under water 
in the pool of the Hotel Sheraton, New York. Houdini, a world hero for 
many years with his escapes and feats of magic and daring, had done it 
again. A young Egyptian, Rahman Bey, had challenged Houdini to match 
his immersion in a bronze coffin in water for an hour. The Egyptian 
claimed he could live in his casket for an hour, using only the air in 
that enclosed space because he could induce a trance.

Houdini said it could be done without a trance. Accordingly Houdini had 
himself immersed underwater in a metal box, soldered shut, and remained 
under for an hour and a half, a half hour longer than the Egyptian 
"miracle man". There was no trance or trick involved; Houdini had 
merely taught himself to breathe shallowly and remain at complete rest. 
His superb physical conditioning did the rest.

Phil applauded that. Phil's father had been a friend of Houdini's, 
working in the famous Society of Magicians, when he was alive. Phil 
would have to write Harry, or "Ehrich" as his wife and close friends 
called him, and offer congratulations in the name of the Griffin 
family. Phil had met the great sorcerer and escapist several times in 
his early years when his father had still been alive.

The door opened and Texas Bunny Long came into the room. With her came 
a burst of tinny music from George's hand-wound Victrola as his 
swimmers swam lackadaisically as George monitored the machine to make 
sure it didn't run down.

Phil had been introduced to the singer, Vic's mistress, before the 
first show, but now he got a good look at her close up. What he saw was 
pretty interesting.

She was the opposite of girls like Flair and Maddy, with their firm 
muscles and athlete's spirits. Her body was soft and the meat seemed a 
little loose on her bones which Phil thought sexy.

Her breasts were not as large as Flair's but because Texas was slender, 
they hung like ripe fruit from her chest. At present he could see the 
imprint of big nipples in the tight jersey gown she wore, a beige 
number that clung to everything. And how they jiggled when she walked. 
Her torso was as flat as any girl athlete's. The dress showed the 
attractive indentation of her belly button.

The round sweep of her hips was fantastic, almost a circle. That was 
because she had a fabulous ass, slightly longer than most women's. When 
she turned her back, there were these two sweet mounds with a 
magnificent crack, longer and deeper than you usually saw. In that 
tight dress the depression between her buttocks looked like it would 
make a dream nest for one long, hard cock, say seven inches when stiff. 
Phil had never had anal sex or thought much about it, but he knew that 
if he ever did he'd want to bugger between two gorgeous hams like 
those.

Her thighs and legs were softly, sexily shaped with just the right 
taper. The evening gown she wore was split at midthigh, tight to 
contain that great behind, then split to show silk hose held up by a 
garter. The soft muscles flexing under the silken sheen when she 
walked, plus that behind, those breasts and her slenderness hypnotized 
Phil as it must have Vic and many other males.

Her face was great. Her platinum hair was thick, whereas most lightly 
complexioned platinums had thin hair. Her eyes were big and a startling 
brown. Her lips were rose petal lush, her cheeks highboned like a 
fashion model's. Yes, Vic had quite a package there.

What intrigued Phil even more was her manner of talking. She spoke in 
the soft, vulnerable voice of a scared little girl asking for her 
momma, instead of the brassy tones you'd expect of a singer. When she 
sang her ballads, every man in the audience wanted to rise up and 
protect her from the sorrows that made her quiver.

Her costume was bizarre because above the clinging night club gown she 
wore a white ten gallon Texas sombrero and on her feet were dainty-
heeled, authentic cowboy boots. Being from the West, Phil knew they 
were the real thing.

"Oh, excuse me," she murmured in that scared voice. "I came for my 
medicine. I have to go on in about twenty minutes. My throat is dry 
tonight."

Phil beckoned her to the desk and stood aside.

"Did I sound all right in the first show?" she asked, coming up to the 
desk.

"Fine," he lied.

"I was lousy," she contradicted him. "That's why I need my medicine. 
Oh, no. Sit on the desk, please. I can find it easier."

Surprised, Phil sat on the desk facing her and politely lifted his legs 
as she opened one of George's desk drawers.

"Not there," she said, fumbling in the drawer. She took his left leg 
and rested it on the drawer. She opened a drawer on the other side and 
rummaged inside. "Not there." She put his right foot on the opened 
drawer.

What the heck?

"Oh, here it is," she said in her near whisper. She put her hands on 
Phil's crotch and began to unbutton his fly.

Phil sat there petrified. He could not believe what was happening. The 
girl's movements were so slow and deliberate, so sane, that the mind 
rejected what she was really doing. What she really did was gently lift 
out the coil of his cock and balls and stroke his shaft as if it were a 
lovable kitten.

"You see," she explained, "there isn't much time until I have to sing, 
so I'm being bold in getting right to my medicine."

Was she drunk? Crazy?

"Where . . . where is you medicine, Texas?"

"Right inside your plumbing, Mr. Griffin, Phil. Don't worry. I know how 
to find it."

With little girl diffidence she began to masturbate his blade in soft, 
satiny hands. Phil felt luscious streaks of desire as his cock grew. 
That rinsing that Flair had given him several hours ago had by no means 
depleted his sexuality. In fact, that first throw had only stimulated 
him to want to blast off a second time, but Flair had turned 
unfriendly.

Two emotions tore him, surprise and delight. Outside he could hear 
faintly the applause of the crowd, some of the thin music. It was 
certainly safe enough here; George had to busy himself on and around 
the tank during the show.

"You want . . . my jism?" he managed, wallowing in this new, hot 
pleasure.

"It coats my throat, soothes my voice box," she said. "Then I sing 
marvelously well. Yes, sperm does it."

"Ahhhhh." His big prick strained up now as if eager to leap off his 
body and hunt for sex on its own. Those capable hands really could 
stroke!

"Would it embarrass you if I . . . ." Pleading brown eyes looked up at 
him.

"I . . . uh . . . don't think so. Not at all!" he gasped, his breath 
almost choking him in rising excitement.

A pink tongue flicked out and circled the head of his cock, painting it 
with warm honey saliva.

"I'll try not to be gross," she whispered, "but I really have to have 
your sperm and pretty fast."

"Yes!" he hissed in ecstasy as she engulfed the whole top of his prong 
in her mouth. Thrills and rushes of delight shot through his belly and 
loins. He fucked up a little into that soft, tight mouth. Her suction 
was strong, exquisite. Wet flesh pressed insistently, excitingly on his 
cock head as she bobbed her own head and grooved his flaming spear top 
against the roof of her mouth. Teasing fingers stroked his shaft, 
gently caressed his balls.

"Ho, ho, ho!" he sang, heart pounding wildly. In less than a minute 
she'd set his whole belly on fire.

She released his cock and they both watched its happy dry throbs, as it 
gleamed in the satin of her saliva. Phil felt the slight sting of the 
digestive power.

"Well, I won't go too fast," she laughed. "If you don't mind a little 
tease, I find that it increases the sperm volume."

"Tease is all right!" he cried. God, he could feel the sweet joy from 
his toes to his head. What a cock handler this shy, strange show 
business girl was.

"If I can hold back the ejaculation long enough," she explained as if 
she were a teacher in a classroom, "the force greatly aids in coating 
my throat. Don't be surprised if I take you quite deep at first and 
then draw gradually back to apply an even spread of your precious male 
juices."

"You know best!" Phil sang in ecstasy.

She was better than her word. She knew how to handle a man's cock the 
best of any woman Phil had ever met. Carefully she ate down his stiff, 
reddened shaft on one side and up the other. Her deft tongue ringed the 
very edge of his mushroom cock head until he got dizzy and crazed from 
the good feeling.

"Can't . . . stand!" he moaned.

She stopped when he dry throbbed. When his crystal clear preseminal 
fluid eased out of the dark hole she licked it up as if it were nectar.

"Helps my throat already," she said, swallowing. He watched the soft 
throat muscles work and thrilled. His prick kept oozing out more nectar 
as the tension from the delight-maddening friction went on and on.

She ate his balls with the expertise of a gourmet cocksucker.

"Texas, you know how!" he exulted.

She was back at his shaft, using her teeth as well as her tongue as she 
sensed that the longer it lasted the harsher he wanted it. He bucked 
recklessly now into her mouth, breathing hard, wanting to rush to 
explosion. She held him back with gentle restraints.

Soon his pubic hair, shaft and balls were totally covered with a warm 
sexy gloss that made him shudder in pleasure. It was as close to a cunt 
feel as the real thing, the way she used her mouth, suction and her 
stroking, incredible hands. She worked the stiff blade back and forth, 
up and down to add to the growing pleasure-fury.

"Oh, oh, Texas!" he cried. "I may die!"

"No one ever has!" she laughed.

He was out of his mind now, growing dizzy with the continued pleasure. 
She'd brought him right up under the point of paralysis and explosion 
and she held him there while he could imagine his sperm factory 
whipping up extra gallons of throw juice, packing his reservoirs till 
he wanted to scream in pleasure from tension.

"Please let it go!" he begged. "Take me."

He grabbed her head and fucked lustily into that teasing luscious 
mouth, watching his shaft run over wet lips and go inside.

"Not yet," she laughed, squeezing his prick and slowing the joy. "A 
young, handsome male like you with this heavy duty jong has infinite 
capacity."

He was so crazed to fuck off his load, he jerked free, grabbed her and 
hoisted her on the desk. Her body was light and handled easily. He 
scooted up her tight dress to get at her belly and cunt and thrilled to 
discover that she wore no panties. Her pubic hair was platinum, she was 
authentic. With a happy groan he nuzzled between soft, warm thighs and 
began to eat her cunt greedily. There was plenty of musk juice for him. 
Texas was so hot that her girl honey had spread halfway to her knees, 
staining the inside thighs of her silk hose. He inhaled her essence and 
coated his own throat with her gland flow.

"Oh, my heavens. Oh, great scott!" she moaned. "Ah, ah, ah!"

He put his hands on that magnificent ass now, digging them into those 
gorgeous buttocks as he savored the satiny, quivering flesh and sucked 
out her cunt oils as if she must be dried to dust.

"Huh, huh, huh," she gasped. "Oh, I'm fucked!"

Her loins humped wildly on his face. She began to jerk and sing in 
hysteric pleasure.

He gripped her hams and opened them. He ran his tongue up on her ass 
button and ate it.

"Oh, nooooo!" she sang, jerking. "Nobody ever did that to me."

He wanted to eat the flesh, so soft and loose, off her bones and suck 
dry every drop of her juices. She bucked in sweet distress.

"Coming! Comiiiiinng!" she managed.

He dug his tongue once more into her sphincter, making her quiver and 
wail and then drove his tongue back on her clit and made her give up 
her girlhood. She locked her pelvis on his face and surrendered. Throb, 
throb, throb. Hers were not the powerful, spaced spasms of the athletic 
Flair, but quick flutters of expiring womanhood, almost furtively 
given, as if Texas did not wish the world to know that she'd been 
forced into sex convulsions. They lasted a long time and she melted 
into a puddle on George's desk.

"Oh, sweet heaven!" she sighed.

Phil stared at her naked ass, exposed because her dress was shoved up 
almost to her breasts. At that moment he knew he was going to violate 
that little red seal and go deep in her backhole if she died for it. 
But not tonight. He had a duty to perform.

Dazed brown eyes looked up at him as he reinserted his prick in the 
girl's mouth as she moved helplessly on the desk top. But she was a 
trouper. She recovered quickly and give him three fantastic suckbites, 
using everything, teeth, tongue and pressure.

He blew, dizzy, half unconscious with repressed desire.

Spurt, spurt, spurt.

She'd done her job all right. She'd teased him into packing a double 
load of jism into his system and it spewed out now in involuntary 
heavenly, rich shots of boiling jism. He nearly fainted from relief, 
but wouldn't let go because he wanted to enjoy the fabulous, sexy 
pleasure of this wild, wet sex fling.

Texas was true to her word. She pulled his cock deep in her throat, 
until it felt like a body-hot cunt and let him coat her passage inch by 
inch as she oozed his prick up her plumbing.

"Go, go, go," he sobbed in the richest oral orgasm he'd ever felt. His 
prick just kept on spurting wildly, making his body sing, his heart 
pound, his mind reel with unbelievable joy.

Somebody came into the room. Several somebodies. As Phil finally 
tapered and came back to sanity, he looked up . . . and then he really 
did come close to fainting.

Once again he stared into the savage face and angry eyes of Vicious Vic 
Singleton. Once again two hoodlums on each side of the tough bootlegger 
reached for their guns as they sprang forward to seize him for 
punishment because he'd ravaged Vic's mistress this time.

"Griffin, goddamit," cried Vicious Vic. "This time you've really gone 
too far!"



Chapter 3


"I can get you Houdini," said Phil in a shaky voice. He sat at George's 
desk with the guns of the two hoods pointed at his head. Above him 
Singleton glowered down. Texas Bunny had fled the room, crying in her 
soft voice, "I hate the sight of blood."

Outside the show went on, the tinkling music, the occasional splash of 
an awkward swimmer in the water, or rather gin tank.

"What do you mean you can get me Houdini?" asked Vic.

"Let me finish him, boss," begged one of the thugs. "We've knocked off 
a half dozen guys for less than this crumb's done to us."

"Shut up. What's this got to do with Houdini?"

"There's a garbage scow going out at midnight," offered the second 
thug. "His body could be on it."

"Will you mugs shut up?" ordered Singleton. "I want to hear about 
Houdini."

Phil knew he had to come through this time. In the era of Prohibition, 
bootleggers were powerful, above the law with their money and well-paid 
killers. Singleton could murder him and get away with it.

He repressed a desire to shiver and shake. The truth was, he didn't 
blame Singleton. He'd kill Phil himself if he were Singleton and this 
stranger came to town, first to lift his daughter's precious maidenhead 
and then to screw his mistress all on the same night. Phil doubted he 
could fight his way out like this afternoon since the two thugs were 
now alerted to his strength and quickness. Even if he upended the desk 
they'd have a fair shot at him. No, his tongue was his only measure of 
defense.

"I know Houdini," Phil went on. "He owes my family a favor. We can 
bring him down here to do one of his world-famous escapes from your 
tank. Of course you'd have to get rid of the gin. Houdini doesn't drink 
. . . or even smoke."

Singleton's interest was caught. He waved aside his boys.

"Let me get this straight, Griffin. You think you can get the great 
Houdini to come here to this little dump and put on a show for us?"

"I know I could," said Phil, wondering if he could. But he'd try like 
blazes since it was a game for his life. "Houdini knew my father who 
was a magician and a big shot in the Society of American Magicians, one 
of Houdini's pet projects, Houdini is loyal to old friends. He'd help 
me now that my father's dead. With his fame and money he doesn't need 
to make a pile on every show he does."

Phil could see the wheels spin in Vic's head. For a man who ached to be 
accepted by society and respected, the Houdini angle was a golden 
opportunity. No name was more honored or better known throughout the 
world. Besides being the world's best magician and escape artist, 
Houdini helped rid society of spiritual fakes and mediums who preyed on 
widows and the gullible.

There was no flaw in Houdini's character or way of life. He was a 
devoted husband to his wife, Bess. Since they were childless, he was 
fabulous with children. He helped the lesser lights in his profession 
through the Society, and he helped science with his exposure of 
religious fakes. In his fifties, he had the body of a twenty-five year 
old because of his rigorous training and fierce spirit, while his 
competitive desire matched the current ideal of American society. If he 
came to New Jersey and performed in George's tank, Vic would be shaking 
hands with the mayor, senators and congressman and other "big shots" as 
he called them, in black tie and tails.

"Get Houdini!" said Vic.

"What?"

Singleton gestured at the pedestal telephone on George's desk.

"Put in a call to New York and get him." Like Phil, Vic had read about 
Houdini's recent feat in New York and knew he was there.

"He . . . probably won't be home," Phil stalled.

"Put in your call, Griffin. It ain't so late."

Phil had the number in his wallet. He'd figured to make a courtesy 
phone call to the Houdinis on this trip East, but until now had no plan 
to bother his powerful and busy acquaintance. But with the thugs 
standing there with guns and Singleton scowling, he had no choice, so 
he gave the operator the New York number.

With luck the Houdinis wouldn't be home and he could stall further. But 
after a couple of rings Bess Houdini herself answered the phone. Phil 
feared she wouldn't remember his name, but she did. Mrs. Houdini was 
clear-minded and a strong helpmate to the great magician. So there was 
nothing to do but blurt out his request with Singleton and his men 
listening.

"I'll ask Harry," said Bess. "He's right here."

Oh God, thought Phil. He says "No" and I'm floating face down in the 
Atlantic Ocean by midnight. Phil heard the mutter of voices off the 
phone, and then Houdini himself came on.

"Hello, Phil, glad to hear from you," said Houdini.

"He-hello, Mr. Houdini," said Phil. To his relief Houdini remembered 
exactly who he was and his father, too. But maybe that wasn't so odd 
because at the beginning of his career Houdini did fabulous memory 
tricks on stage and was not likely to forget names or faces.

"Listen," said Houdini at length. "I'm getting ready to put a fantastic 
show on the road next month in September. It'll be the biggest, 
fanciest crowd-puller I've ever sent out. Believe me, it'll be a 
knockout, the best of my career. We're going to travel across America 
and Canada and some other places in the world by the end of the 
season." Houdini's voice sounded proud.

"Glad to hear that." Phil had to smile. Houdini was a showman and a 
promoter. He knew how to blow his own horn. The difference was that he 
always delivered what he promised. If he said it was going to be the 
best and the greatest, it would be. But it was the end of Phil's 
chances to get him down here in Atlantic City. It was already August 
and Houdini would be rehearsing like a crazy man to be ready to open 
next month.

"There's lots of pressure," Houdini went on. "The way I handle that, I 
like to get away from rehearsals for a couple of days. A break gives me 
a new perspective. Sure, I'll come down there for a one nighter. This 
is the perfect time of the year, for a couple of days off for me and 
Bess in Atlantic City. Good pre-show publicity, too. Count on me, Phil. 
My manager will set up the details."

Phil sat back in awe. "He'll do it!" he cried to Singleton.

Singleton also looked awestruck. "He . . . he will?"

Phil went back on the phone. "Thanks a million, Harry. Listen, can you 
say hello to my promoter? He's grateful. He's a . . . ." Phil suddenly 
realized that the whole deal would be off if Houdini found out that 
Singleton was a bootlegger. Houdini was no snob; nobody in show 
business could afford to be. But he wouldn't work for a lawless type.

"My promoter is a new impresario in show business. Victor Singleton," 
said Phil decisively and handed the phone to Vic.

Vic stumbled through a few words with the world famous man and hung up. 
He collapsed in a chair.

"I just talked in person to Houdini!" he exulted. "Me, Vic Singleton, 
from Jersey City, New Jersey. His voice came right in my ear and my 
voice went right back into his. God!"

The thugs had put away their guns and moved back, looking dazed. This 
was totally outside their experience.

"We're not out of the woods," said Phil. "There's a problem. Houdini 
won't come if he finds out you're a bootlegger."

The look of ecstasy slowly faded from Vic's face. "My God, I never 
thought of that. Listen, I can't . . . ." Then he stopped. "But, yeah, 
I see what you mean. I mean, this guy is a friend of presidents, kings, 
queens, all big shots. He can't afford to deal with scum like me."

"Exactly," said Phil.

"What the hell am I going to do?" cried Vic. "Here's my first chance in 
my entire life to show off before the world as an important right guy."

"It's tough," said Phil. "There's only one out. You've got to quit the 
rackets. Now, tonight, forever. From this minute on, you're an 
impresario, a show business entrepreneur."

Vic jumped up. "Quit the rackets?"

"Haven't you got enough money? Now it's fame and respect you want."

Vic shook his head. "I got to think this one out."

"There's no choice," said Phil. "Either get out, or no Houdini. You'll 
also have to dump those ten thousand gallons of gin for Houdini's 
appearance."

There was a diminishing wail as Singleton fled the room, followed by 
his two men.

Phil sat back in his chair, breathing in triumph. He had no doubt what 
Vic would do. The man was crazy for social approval and had all the 
money he'd ever need. It also fit Phil's California project. Once they 
did the Houdini show, Vic would be at loose ends . . . and Phil knew 
where to direct him next. Beautiful.

Yes, he rode the crest. Always before his sex drive had cut into his 
career, blocking his progress. This time it hadn't. He'd enjoyed two 
beautiful dolls in one day and ended up with the excitement of the 
Houdini call. Maybe his luck had changed.

He heard Texas Bunny Long singing in the auditorium. Her voice sounded 
deep, strong, throaty in the second show. It was twice as good as 
before. And all on account of her throat being coated with his sperm. 
Would wonders ever cease in Atlantic City, New Jersey? 

It was too weeks later and the dress rehearsal was over. The little 
aquarium had been repainted outside and in. Phil had gotten rid of all 
George's hookers and installed sweet young beach girls, easy to pick up 
on the sands at this time of year. They could all swim like fish. He 
trained them as well as he could in the gin tank. Tomorrow it would all 
be pumped out and replaced by fresh sea water for Houdini.

Phil was ready for that. He'd taken over the comic diving part of the 
show and found that swimming in gin sounded better than it was. The 
alcohol stung on every little cut, the aroma was overpowering and even 
a sip burned the throat, despite its being first-class stuff. Nobody 
would miss it, except the two drunks that Phil had replaced, who were 
more interested in sneaking out the stuff than performing.

Flair Singleton lent her elegant, tanned body to the show, against her 
will. Hers was no match for her father's who meant to make the most of 
his brief fling with Houdini and the big time. After all, he was giving 
up his bootlegging career for this.

Flair's reward was to get a chance to harmonize with Texas Bunny in one 
of the songs. Flair had a pretty good voice and liked that. For this 
show Texas lost her cowboy hat and part of her name. She'd wear a 
shimmering, silver gown and be accompanied by a trio in white tie and 
tails. She'd appear as plain Bunny Long. Phil pointed out that the 
imitation of Texas Guinan that George tried for lacked class, in 
Bunny's case. There was only one Texas Guinan.

Everybody was happy except George. On that night after the kids were 
dismissed and Phil and George sat alone in the office George said he'd 
miss the old show. He looked frowzy in a rented dress suit, compared to 
his usual sweater and baggy trousers.

"George, you've got to learn class," said Phil.

"Class is like beautiful women," sighed George. "I can't connect. I 
tried for Flair before you came along and only got laughs. You knocked 
her off in only one day. I tried to help Texas Bunny with her throat 
problem. She shucked me off and used the whale sperm Vic buys for her."

He rose sadly. "You lock up, Phil. I'm going out to see if any of my 
two dollar whores are left in town."

George left but came back almost immediately. "Guess who's standing in 
full costume by the tank, weeping her heart out. Our singing star, 
Texas Bunny."

"What's her problem?"

"I dunno, Phil, but in my book that one's a candidate for Nut College. 
It's your show, you handle it." George slid to the side door, waved and 
was gone. 

A single light shown on the stage and sink. A single figure stood there 
disconsolately, weeping. Still dressed in her long silver satin gown, 
with her platinum hair in wild disarray, Texas Bunny looked like a 
princess who'd been deserted at the Royal Ball.

Phil paused a moment before hurrying to her. Damn, that was one 
gorgeous creature, especially with all those curves tightly held and 
displayed in shimmering satin. She told Phil she'd lost her ring. It 
was a very important ring, since it was a gift of Vic Singleton, and 
she dared not go back to the yacht without it. He'd think she'd hocked 
it, or, worse, given it to some male lover. Vic was very jealous.

"Did you look in your dressing room?"

"It's not in there." The soft voice sounded shattered, the brown eyes 
expressed utter misery. "I looked real good."

"Then it's got to be out here," said Phil. "Did you have it earlier."

"Yes."

"I notice you sometimes wring your hands when you sing," said Phil. 
"Maybe it slipped off then." He peered about the floor.

"I've looked everywhere, except-"

"Except, where?"

"In my clothes. She turned her back to him. "Feel down me. It might've 
got into my clothes."

Phil looked down the gleaming figure and hesitated. He was tired, he 
just wanted to close up and go home. He surely didn't want to fool 
around anymore with Vic's girlfriend, not after the sperm episode. He 
had big plans that meant staying in good with the ex-bootlegger. 
Besides there was no place in that tight-fitting gown you could hide a 
pin, let alone a ring. He'd seen the ring. It was a lustrous pearl that 
she wore on her long finger, so at least she wasn't fooling him, 
because now there was no ring on those slender, white fingers.

"Can't you feel for it?" he asked. He could already sense her body heat 
and was getting somewhat aroused.

"I can't feel my back!" she protested. "Please, won't you help me?"

It was sheer disaster for him as he felt down her torso, under the 
armpits, across the breasts. The stroking made her nipples hard. He 
quickly felt down to her belly but that was just as sexy, with the 
warm, loose flesh teasing his hands under the smooth satin.

"My thighs."

He felt her thighs. Oh, she was so well shaped! His cock was hardening 
in his pants.

"Behind."

"I . . . I . . . ." He didn't want to touch her rear. That incredible 
fanny burned in his mind many a night after the shows.

"Phil! Please. It's life or death for me!"

He felt down her back, wondering if she sensed how his breathing 
quickened. How silken! Finally the top slope of her buttocks. He 
swallowed nervously. He felt the yielding firm flesh under the slick 
satin. He was rock hard now, as his hands passed over the exquisite 
roundness of her bottom. The combination of that magnificent ass and 
its satin covering was almost too much for mortal man to bear. In spite 
of himself he dug his fingers into her mounds and squeezed. She gasped 
but made no protest. For giddy seconds he played with her hams, even 
feeling into her crack. And thrilled. Was he perverted to be so taken 
with her butt? He liked a pleasing rear but had never felt such a 
desire before.

He broke away, breathing hard. "It's not there, Bunny."

"It's got to be in my clothes. Unbutton me!"

"Oh, no!" he moaned. "I . . . might attack you, Texas."

"If I don't find that ring I'll be dead by morning," she wailed.

The only way out was to humor her. But when he unbuttoned her gown, she 
quickly worked it over her hips and let it drop, a gleaming pool at her 
feet. He hoped she'd wear some kind of underwear, but he knew from his 
earlier feel that she did not. Sure enough, she was stark naked except 
for her high heels.

She muttered and began pawing over her dress, standing there with her 
legs slightly apart, her gorgeous body totally exposed. Phil stood like 
a statue, transfixed. Most of the girls he'd had to do with were firm 
and flesh, softly muscular. The yielding softness of this woman's body 
fascinated him because it was strange and new. Her skin was clear and 
white and he felt that if he hugged her, that soft flesh would melt 
into his body.

"It's probably inside," she said.

"What!"

She turned to face him. "Feel inside, please." Little girl earnest, 
brown eyes gleaming.

"Oh, no, Texas, You d-do it."

"I can't bear to touch myself there," she wailed.

He took a deep breath. "This is my last shot." He put one hand on her 
warm, bare hip. He put the other between her legs, and felt up the 
satiny inner thighs to her cunt. She was wet. She was swollen. His 
fingers slid easily into her warm cunt passage to be met by her intense 
interior body heat and rich lubrication.

"Uh," she went as he dug fingers deep into her cunt.

"Oh," he said, "oh." He gasped at the sexy sensation of feeling around 
inside her private sex passage. So tight, so hot, so slick! God!

"It's not in there," he said, hearing the sex thickness in his voice.

"It's got to be in there!" she insisted. "Feel some more."

He pulled his fingers out of her as she moaned at the friction. They 
gleamed with sex oils. Her face was slightly red with a blush of lust, 
wet lips parted, big eyes hungry. He knew the struggle was lost, 
because his whole body was on fire, his prick trying to burst out of 
his pants.

They looked at each other. Then he undressed quickly, aware of her gasp 
when she saw his rock hard rod. She quickly eased to the stage, 
presenting her rear.

"Yes!" she cried. That was the position he wanted to fuck her in, dog 
fashion, with those sexy buttocks flexing on his thighs. Quickly he 
knelt behind her, fitted his eager cock to her cunt, then shoved.

"Oh!" she cried.

"Oh!" he echoed.

Both of them shuddered in delight as the big cock oozed up tight into 
her cunt. For a few seconds he hugged her, holding her still, reveling 
in his possession of her, of his sensations of delight as those 
gorgeous hams caressed his naked thighs. He wanted more. He reached 
under her belly and slid a hand up the smooth skin to cup one of her 
ripe tits, hard nipple lovingly pressed to his palm. His body glowed 
and thrilled in joy. He'd missed a lot when he limited himself to 
pronging hard-muscled girls. He felt as if his big, stiff cock could 
tear open her entire soft body to make her scream in taken ecstasy.

He fucked three glorious strokes into her belly, then hung on her lips, 
letting his prick dry throb as it savored her slick, tight nest, 
anticipating the hot, driving friction to come.

"Bunny?" he called down.

"Yes?"

"I can see that you were masturbating - ah - and lost your ring in your 
vagina. So how come you couldn't feel for it yourself later?"

"I had to masturbate. Vic doesn't screw me much. He likes to be sucked 
most of the time."

"So you could feel in there after the ring."

"If I felt in there, I'd get excited and have to do myself and you'd 
let me. If you felt - oh, I love this - then I knew you'd cock-ream me, 
and I need it!"

"Oh." He began to flex his thrilled cock in and out of her wet, slick 
cunt. "But y-you really lost your ring?"

"Yes . . . look for it later," she moaned. "Please. . . fuck my heels 
off now!"

The next few moments were a dizzy ecstasy for both of them. He sensed 
her extreme need for a good cock reaming, while he went sex-crazed to 
drive hard cock into soft belly while he bathed in the yielding 
sweetness of her body, hugging, stroking, caressing, and building their 
fires.

"Oh, Phil. Oh, now!" she cried in wounded fervor. Throb, throb, throb. 
Almost without a paralysis her belly and cunt muscles tightened and she 
spent off her womanhood with those quick, furtive flutters and 
squeezes, like the time they'd sucked. He drove her through her sublime 
orgasm proudly, knowing that he could make her come over and over.

Panting, she sagged a little under his weight as she finished her sweet 
orgasm.

"Oh, Phil. It's in the other hole. I just remembered."

He was miles away in the purple land of friction ecstasy, enjoying his 
fuck power.

"Wha-what?"

"The ring. It could be in the other hole."

The idea sent a huge sex thrill through his whole body, so strong it 
almost paralyzed him and made him shoot jism.

"The . . . the other hole."

"Look. Feel for it, please," she begged.

Panting himself, he pulled his cock out of her cunt, separated those 
luscious buttocks and looked at her dainty ass-pucker.

"Oh, Texas!" he sang. He greased a finger with her copious oils and 
forced her sphincter with that finger. Hot. Wet. Soooo tight!

She gave an animal grunt of violation as he unsealed her asshole which 
harmonized with his cry of surprise.

"The ring!"

It was inside her gut.

He was really hot now. The only way she could've lost her ring up 
inside her butt was by caressing her back passage with her own finger, 
the long finger upon which she wore it. That meant she liked ass 
stimulation when she masturbated.

Phil fumbled out the ring and flung it aside.

"Oh," she said. "Oh, th-thanks."

But he dug his well-oiled cock head against her sphincter.

"My reward, baby. Sorry, but I got to do it. Been dreaming of your 
ass."

"Phil!" she screamed as he notched her small hole.

There was no way he could stop. Full lust to ream that sexy ass was 
upon him. He grunted and bunted. She screamed in pain. His thick, stiff 
cock was twice as wide as her slim finger and then some. Her tight 
sphincter tried to resist but lost the battle to the invading cock. 
Panting, gasping in pleasure he oozed through the thick muscle.

"Ahhh, nooo," she wailed. "Can't stand it!"

He knew she felt pain. Her entrance muscle was cruelly peeled back. But 
he had to have the carnal thrill of driving his cock deep into her loin 
mass. She struggled and jerked helplessly, protesting and moaning as he 
fucked her open.

"Too much! Too big. It hurts! Oh!"

"Want your ass," he gasped. He drove his prick deep into her.

Waves of thrills shot down his pleased shaft into his belly and sent 
pleasure throughout his body. It was sublime.

"Oh, Texas, I love it!" he cried.

"Ah, ah!" Her sides heaved in distress. She was impaled in her tender, 
private hole, the ruthless cock riding close to vital, living organs.

It was not so different from a cunt, though the friction was better. 
Her passage was even tighter than her tight cunt. The interior body 
heat thrilled him. The slick feel of pink gut, the fist-squeeze of her 
sphincter added wild joy to his reaming. Best of all, those exquisite 
jelly-silk hams worked and quivered on his front so tight to his body 
that he could feel her little interior shifts and jerks of stimulation 
as she tried to ease her pain and get pleasure.

"Sorry . . . got to have . . . ass!"

Suddenly she began to work her loins back and forth to increase the 
sweet pleasure on his shaft. Apparently the pain of first violation had 
eased.

"Fuck me. Fuck my ass!" she yipped. I've always wanted it . . . never 
dared ask . . . used my finger. Oh, oh, oh!"

Phil got one arm under her soft, moist belly, the other across her 
shoulders, held her secure and rammed his loins furiously back and 
forth, fucking her hot, slick hole as if it were the last sex opening 
he'd ever master. The touch of perversion made it absolutely tops in 
animal pleasure.

"Ah, ah, ah, God!" he keened.

"Going, going," she gasped. She had one finger on her clit in her cunt. 
Since she'd already trained her asshole as a sex passage she went right 
up to glory with the fierce savaging of Phil's prick. Later her rear 
would burn and ache from the brutal usage, but in the heat of the 
wildness she shared his crazed pleasure with him.

"Oh, my God, I can't believe it!" she sang as her whole sex system 
whipped to orgasm. Then she locked and began to throb. As she came for 
the second time, her sphincter squeezed involuntarily on Phil's cock, 
maddening him with extra thrills.

"Ah baby, oh my God, yesssss!" he cried. His blade was almost glazed to 
glory, but he gritted his teeth and drove the girl through her spasms 
of pleasure. This time her throbs were not the frightened, furtive 
flutters of cunt stimulation, but big, bold and powerful squeezes of a 
fully taken female, like Flair's had been.

Throb, throb, throb.

She began to sag again, muttering as she ended her orgasm and fell off 
her peak. Phil's had just begun.

He thrilled to ecstasy as he reached his high orgasmic state. He felt 
his body control slip away from him as muscles and glands organized to 
give him his massive pleasure explosion. He went into sublime lock and 
paralysis, grunting happily and hung for long seconds in that 
delicious, delirious state of suspension just before throwing, where 
his whole body tensed for the pleasure rushes to come. His immobile 
prick was buried hilt-deep in the girl's gut, shaft and cock head 
locked in soft, hot, wet and clutching meat.

Spurt. "Ah!" Spurt. "Ah!" Spurt.

He had to give a non-humorous laugh of tension relief as his cock shot 
darts of body-hot cream high into her intestine. She jerked and moaned 
as she took each gush of sperm deep in her violated gut. And her cunt 
and sphincter throbbed some more in excitement, drawing off male burst 
of semen in this perverted fashion.

"Oh," she cried, squirming. "Oh, oh, I finally got it deep in my ass!"

"Honey, so . . . fantastic," he grunted, letting the burst come. It 
seemed like he had a gallon of jism burning to seed her asshole. He 
pumped it all off, hugging the moist, fucked girl, until he tapered and 
finished. Then he sank, weak, on her soft body, relishing the feel of 
his still-stiff blade rammed up her tight gut, bathed generously on its 
spent sperm, clutched hotly by her glove-like tunnel.

She was too dazed from her own massive orgasm to move, although his 
weight was too heavy on her.

"Now Vic will walk in," he murmured. But Vic did not walk in, nor Flair 
nor anyone else. For once he'd completed the sex act he desired without 
interruption. Just as well, he thought as he reluctantly pulled out of 
Texas's ass. He would not want it to get around town that he buggered 
females. Yet what was so bad about it? They'd both had a hugely 
delicious time once his entry was achieved.



Chapter 4


The mayor of Atlantic City was there and a host of other city 
officials. As Phil predicted, Houdini drew senators, congressmen and 
other of the city's leading lights because it was a well-publicized 
black tie affair. There was barely room for the press, the important 
and the near important in the small auditorium and flash-powder trays 
burst in dazzling light as endless pictures were taken.

A small orchestra played on the stage and then Phil put on his regular 
water show for the blue ribbon audience. It was well-received as the 
crowd was in a holiday mood, waiting for Houdini's appearance.

Houdini appeared in a dress suit while his attendants brought forth a 
coffin-like metal box similar to the one he used in his New York hotel 
immersion. The great artist was small in stature and stocky with 
twinkling, blue-gray eyes and, not at the age of 52, had a receding 
hairline over an extra wide brow.

"He always manages to look rumpled," Bess his wife explained to Phil as 
they watched from the wings. "Someday I hope they invent a wrinkleproof 
suit for men."

"Ah, but when he gives the crowd that dazzling smile and opens his 
mouth he's listened to like a king," Phil replied.

Houdini suddenly jerked at his sleeves and his arms were bare from the 
elbows down. It was the old magicians' challenge of "Nothing up my 
sleeves." Then he did card tricks, enjoying himself as much as the 
audience enjoyed him.

"We work in such big theatres," whispered Bess, "that he's really 
excited tonight to have this intimate place where he can do pint-sized 
tricks that everybody can see." Then Houdini did some handcuff escapes 
and was finally sealed in his box and lowered by ropes to the bottom of 
the aquarium tank. The orchestra played, the audience buzzed 
expectantly. But by the time an hour had passed, the room was silent 
and electric with tension. What human could possibly survive without 
air for so long under water. Was Houdini now a lifeless corpse at the 
bottom of the great link?

At an hour and fifteen minutes people called for the box to be lifted, 
sure Houdini was dead or near death. A sense of genuine catastrophe 
filled the auditorium. But Phil noted that Bess Houdini merely smiled.

A bell rang at the mark of an hour and twenty minutes, the box was 
lifted and opened and Houdini emerged, weak and pale but smiling. He 
received a thunderous ovation. There had been no tricks involved, he 
had lived on the natural air sealed in with him for all that time.

For the next hour the place was a milling crowd of well-wishers, 
everybody wanting to meet Houdini in this intimate place. Usually in 
vast theatres there was no chance to meet him after a show.

"We're eternally grateful," Phil told Houdini when at last the crowd 
began to thin and the magician, his wife and entourage were about to 
leave. "It seems like a lot of trouble to put you to for such a small 
audience."

"Listen to me, Phil," said Houdini. "You did me a favor. When I beat 
that Egyptian's time on his immersion, some people said I was lucky. 
They said I couldn't do it again. Tonight the papers were here and the 
story goes out on the wires across the country. So, quickly and easily 
I nailed it down that I can beat his one hour time any day I want. That 
frees me to go on to my big fall show and develop some new things. I 
won't be challenged on that one again. Besides, Bess and I can enjoy a 
couple of days off at the beach."

"For which I'm grateful," said Bess Houdini, proudly taking her 
husband's arm. Phil noted that Houdini seemed well recovered from his 
ordeal of the evening.

Before the magician left he gave Phil some advice.

"I'll leave my metal box. You can have it for a display. Your business 
should be good for a couple of weeks in the aftermath of the publicity. 
Charge 'em five bucks a head. After that I'd fold the show. Your place 
here is really too small. I struggled for years as a near failure in 
dime museums in the old days and nothing can break your heart like 
small time show business."

"Oh, I've got a big one coming up," smiled Phil.

"Good boy. Once you get off the ground, keep flying!" Houdini and his 
group were gone with friendly waves. Phil stood there feeling great. 
There was no limit to the man's talents; in addition to everything else 
he was a pioneer aviator, which is why he left Phil with that 
aeronautical advice.

Vic Singleton was beside himself with delight. "Tonight was big time 
for me!" he crooned. "Tonight was the big night of my life. I looked 
the mayor and the police chief in the eye and they looked right back 
and smiled. We even shook hands. You were right, boy. It was time for 
me to leave the rackets. That Houdini of yours was really something. 
I'm going to have those pictures framed in gold!"

"There's more to come," said Phil. But he was too astute to introduce 
his new idea while Singleton floated on the euphoria of tonight's 
success.

Everyone was so hopped up by the excitement that they gave a midnight 
show, charging $5 a head this time and filled the place. Flair was in 
good spirits and Texas Bunny was in good voice. Even George, the cynic, 
seemed mellow.

"In show business you get one good night a year," he said. "Tonight was 
our night for this year." 

Two days later Phil saw Maddy for the first time.

She was half-naked in that first sight of her because Vic Singleton had 
stripped her of her nurse's whites to her waist and feasted on one of 
Maddy's round, ivory breasts. Maddy Metcalf had the clearest, finest 
textured skin Phil had ever seen on a woman. In addition she had 
lustrous black hair that fell well below her shoulders. Not for her the 
short-haired flapper style that the hot mamas of the day favored!

Phil had started to leave the bath to go into the master bedroom of the 
yacht when the other two entered the room and began their love play. 
They didn't see or hear him because Vic's sexual attack on the girl 
absorbed them both.

"Oh, Vic, should we?" moaned Maddy. She gasped and rolled her head in 
sensuous pleasure as the older man assaulted first one and then the 
other of her big, pink nipples.

"We should!" laughed Vic.

Phil froze in shock, unable to believe his eyes. He'd come three 
thousand miles to find his former girl and to give her fame in a new 
career. A thousand nights since she'd left him in 1924 he'd dreamed 
wistfully of holding that firm yet feminine body in his arms and 
caressing that creamy, delectable skin, pillaging her rich charms once 
more. Her brilliant green eyes would go dazed with passion; her nipples 
of those high, full breasts would harden and her tight little cunt 
would gleam with desire juices.

Like most endurance swimmers, like Flair, Maddy had a voluptuous and 
sturdy body. She had strong flanks and buttocks, shapely arms, a 
graceful back and powerful, tapered thighs and calves. Her flesh was 
tight on her frame, and that clear ivory skin made her a lover's dream.

Only it was Phil's millionaire patron who held the girl in his arms, 
fixed his mouth to those nipples and kissed those well-shaped lips. 
Maddy moaned in desire.

As Phil watched, thunderstruck, Singleton peeled off the rest of 
Maddy's clothes and there she stood naked, exactly as Phil remembered 
her. Worse, she stood in the exact spot where Flair Singleton had 
jacked Phil off in her virgin lust, a little over two weeks ago.

Phil's cock began to thicken even as he stared in horror at the scene 
before him.

Vic who wore only a robe pulled the nude girl to the bed.

"Vic, is it safe?" asked Maddy.

"Sure, baby, they're all on shore with my water show, your uncle 
George, your ex-boyfriend, Texas Bunny and Flair. I gave orders for 
nobody to come aboard tonight. The crew and servants are all below."

"How is Phil?"

"That kid is the greatest. Did I tell you about Houdini?"

"I read the story and saw the pictures in the New York papers."

"Listen, wait till you hear the rest of it. I'm sponsoring an endurance 
swim way out on Catalina Island in California near Hollywood. Since 
Gertrude Ederle got her ticker tape parade in New York and became a 
national heroine, endurance swimmers are hot news."

"I saw her. They say she'll star at the Philadelphia Sesquicentennial 
and get $10,000 for it."

"And you can be the next Gertrude Ederle, baby. Listen."

Vic took off his robe, revealing his own nudity. An average-sized cock, 
very hard, jutted up from a nest of white-streaked pubic hair. The 
sight of it sickened Phil as did the realization that the older guy had 
a pretty good body. Phil guessed that bootlegging had kept old 
Singleton physically active. Maddy took hold of that rival cock and 
jogged it, while Vic rubbed his hand into the glossy black hair around 
Maddy's cunt and then fingered into her. They both moaned and made 
pleasure sounds of sexual arousal. "Mmmmmmm. Ah, ah."

Phil's cock was hard, and so were his fists. He burned to leap into 
that bedroom and kill Vic, but he was still too stunned to act.

"Your clever boyfriend, Phil - " Vic resumed.

"Ex-boyfriend," Maddy interjected.

". . . has got it all fixed up," said Vic. "He has an agreement with 
the owners of Catalina Island to put on an all-invitational swim. Since 
I'm putting up the dough, it'll be the Victor Singleton Invitational 
Catalina Swim. It's open to everybody, amateur and professional. Dubs 
and pros. I'll get my name in every newspaper in the world because 
nobody's swum that channel yet, not on record. How do you like that?"

"It sounds great." Maddy leaned up on her elbow to look down at Vic. 
"I'm glad Phil's finally getting a break."

"Now comes the best part. You, Maddy Metcalf, will win that swim, Phil 
thinks. He wants to train you for the next two or three months. We put 
on the big swim next January. At that time of the year the island is 
dead. This brings in a thousand tourists which the owners like, which 
is why they've agreed to it."

"Oh, Vic!" breathed Maddy.

"We'll both be world famous!" cried Singleton. Me as sponsor, you as 
swim winner. Then we can get married!"

"Oh, Vic!" cried Maddy.

It was as if someone had hit Phil with an axe. Married! It had gone 
that far!

"We are going to get married, aren't we?" asked Vic.

"I told you I would, lover," said Maddy. "First you had to give up 
bootlegging."

The fact that Vic wanted to marry Maddy and that she would accept him 
stopped Phil cold. Now he could not invade that bedroom to try to 
reclaim Maddy. He could only listen in agony. And watch . . . as Maddy 
leaned over Vic's body and sucked his prick into her mouth.

"Ohhhh, lover!" crooned Vic happily.

"Does Phil know about us?" asked Maddy, jacking off the man in the soft 
gleam of her saliva. "Does Flair?"

"Uh, so good! Flair suspects, but Phil doesn't know. I told him you 
nursed my mother when the old lady won't let anybody near her but Old 
Lady Cosgrove. Nobody knows you're on my payroll but working in New 
York charity wards until I could convince you to marry me."

"I'm ready," said Maddy.

Phil felt his world shatter. Everything he'd done for Maddy would fall 
into Vic's arms. His project . . . Vic had the money for that, he 
didn't. Vic and Maddy would come out on top of the Catalina swim. 
Worse, he'd actually removed the last barrier to their marriage by 
pulling Vic out of the rackets. Before that Maddy wouldn't marry him. 
He? He was no better than a servant, like those two thugs Vic used to 
keep with him. Even worse than that, he could hardly be angry at Vic. 
He'd deflowered Vic's daughter in front of the older man's eyes, just 
about. He had shot off his gun in the mouth of Vic's mistress as the 
man walked in on it. He owed Singleton something for that and Vic got 
it back now by taking his woman!

"There's one more hitch, Vic," said Maddy. Phil listened as hard as Vic 
did. "You'll have to get rid of Texas Bunny. She's your mistress."

"Ah, child, I'm through with that mixed-up broad. Do you know she 
actually wanted me to fuck her in the ass? Perverted! I've already 
walked away from that one!"

And who, thought Phil bitterly, made Texas bold enough to reveal her 
back door hang-up. I did by falling in with her fantasy.

"Such vulgar talk," said Maddy. "I don't want to hear any more."

Then Maddy gave a happy laugh, straddled the ex-bootlegger and fit his 
stiff shaft to her pink slit. They both bucked and Phil saw the 
ultimate horror, Vic's cock violate Maddy's precious cunt to take 
possession of her belly.

Tears stung Phil's eyes as he watched Maddy's elegant legs spread wide, 
Vic's prick work in and out of her belly and her white buttocks squeeze 
in ecstasy. He wanted to tear himself away, yet he could not. It was as 
if he had a penance to pay to watch his rival fuck his dream girl. He 
witnessed their carnal pleasure, their grunts and moans of rising 
passion, seeing the man's blade flash faster and faster into his 
beloved, decorated with her hot, willing juices. She flexed and keened 
in exquisite joy. It seemed forever before they rose to climax, but 
Phil watched it all. At last Vic held those white, round buttocks to 
lock Maddy's pelvis to his and gave a happy cry. "Oh, I'm gone!" and 
spurted his hot seed into her cunt.

"Vic, ohmigod!" responded Maddy. She gave up her own orgasm in healthy 
pleasure as Phil could tell from her paralyzed body, dazed eyes and 
loin jerks.

As they clung together, panting, glowing from their hot sex run, he 
could finally turn away in sorrow. Behind him the window leading on to 
the deck was big enough for him to escape through. He managed to get 
out on the deck, where he stood alone, staring up at a big moon that 
made the black waters of the bay glitter.

He'd swum out here alone. An hour before after the last show he'd met 
Flair as he strolled toward the Steel Pier heading for his boarding 
house. She told him Maddy had arrived and was on Vic's boat. She said 
they weren't supposed to go over there till morning; she was staying 
over with Texas. Even then he hadn't been suspicious.

But walking on alone he suddenly decided to surprise Maddy. He hid his 
clothes on shore and swam to the yacht, enjoying the cool night air. In 
these magic moments he was on top of the world. Once aboard the yacht 
he went straight to the bathroom for relief, and that was where Vic and 
Maddy trapped him and changed his life forever. In a single hour he'd 
been plunged from the heights to the depths.

A dripping figure came up onto the deck from the ladder. Moonlight 
glittered on the gleaming, nude figure of Flair Singleton, water drops 
like crystals.

"I saw you swim out," said the girl. "I figured I didn't want to spend 
the night on land either."

Phil was still in a state of shock. "Your father . . . Maddy. They're 
lovers! They plan to get married."

"I was afraid of that," said Flair. "He's been chasing that stupid 
broad for a long time."

"He . . . they . . . I saw them just now. They fucked!" cried Phil as 
if it were something beyond all human ken.

"You still love her," said Flair.

"No, of course not, I . . . ."

Phil became aware of a shooting pleasure in his penis. He looked down. 
Both Flair's hands had closed over his hard-on. His prong was still 
rigid from the hot scene in the cabin.

"Oh, now," he said, startled.

"Texas has told me about oral sex. She gets great store on what she 
called 'cocksucking'. Will you teach me?"

"Flair, I . . . ."

Phil wanted to say he was in no mood for sex. He never wanted to touch 
a woman again in his life. His soul was shattered and he'd been 
thinking of diving over the side of the yacht and sinking into the 
depths. He could see the shocked, sorrowful faces of Vic and Maddy as 
they stared down at his corpse in his coffin. How they'd regret their 
hot sex together!

Flair fell to her knees. She bent his cock down. She took it in her 
mouth. She sucked on it awkwardly. Phil felt a whisper of sexuality 
turn into a rush of pleasure.

"Now, Flair, dammit!" he protested.

"Teach me, Phil! I have to find out what suck is like."

"Oh, listen, I don't think I want to . . . ahhh!" Without thinking he 
bunted his cock into Flair's hot, sucking mouth, feeling the wetness, 
feeling the sexy ridge of her teeth drag over those sensitive cock 
nerves.

"It tastes like meat!" she exclaimed in surprise and seized his jong 
once again.

He howled. She'd bitten down too hard. He pulled her loose.

"What am I!" he cried. "Some kind of frigging sex teacher to all of Vic 
Singleton's women? Stop it!"

But she merely said, "You want it," and sucked in his prick again, this 
time softer but with elegant power. Incredible rushes of delight shot 
through his belly. He held onto her wet, silken head and fucked into 
her mouth with a groan. She was absolutely right. The lines of her 
naked body, glistening with water drops, the feel her outrageous, 
beautiful mouth on his rod, whipped up his lust right through all his 
sorrow and anger. But he tried one more time.

"Flair, I spend all my life getting into trouble over sex. For once I'd 
like to walk away from it. Control m-my . . . oh, my . . . lust. Do you 
understand?"

She stopped sucking on him and looked up at his face, her lovely 
features incredible in the moonlight.

"Teach me to suck," she said.

They were absolutely alone on the deck. He hadn't had relief since the 
anal trip with Texas two days before Houdini came. His pleasure nerves 
were on fire. He slid down to the deck, pulled the voluptuous girl flat 
beside him. He placed his cock at her mouth and his head at her cunt.

"I'll teach you the double suck!" he cried. He nuzzled his head into 
her crotch and found her cunt.

"Wup!" she said. "Hoooo." She shuddered in pleasure, scissored her legs 
around his head. "Texas didn't say it worked both ways."

He ran his tongue into her hot, wet vagina, stroking her stiffened 
clitoris. She gave a gasp of pleasure wounding. "Oh, my goodness! Oh, 
my soul!"

Vic's meat. Vic's beautiful young daughter, incredibly sexy, dumb, 
cold, phlegmatic. But underneath her father-repressed surface she might 
be an animal of lust.

"My cu . . . my box!" she whimpered. He remembered that she could not 
say "cunt". He inhaled a circle of her cunt flesh with her clit in the 
middle of it. He tongued on the girl's main sex nerve and thrilled to 
feel her whole, rich body quiver and jerk in exquisite pleasure. All he 
had to do was caress less than a cubic inch of flesh in her big body 
and he controlled the whole lovely carcass. He laughed in rueful humor. 
Drunks returned to the bottle. Sex destroyed him and he returned to 
sex. He gulped down her sweet gland juices, hot, exciting.

"Flair, have you had sex since that time with me?"

"No! I hate men. I'll never marry. I just wanted to try this one 
thing."

He hugged her firm but soft thighs in delight.

"You're a cold bitch," he laughed, "but I can fuck you. And suck you. 
I'll bet I could even cornhole you. I own you. You're helpless girl 
meat. I could even marry you if I wanted."

"No! No! I don't love you. I don't love anybody."

He felt wildly reckless. He pulled his head off her steaming, streaming 
box. "Then let's stop this sex right now."

She didn't answer. She just grabbed his cock and began to suck on it. 
He laughed in triumph and gripped her buttocks. She, too, had gorgeous 
hams, as rounded as Texas Bunny's but much more firm and muscular. He 
parted her mounds and ran his tongue up onto her ass pucker. She jerked 
as if shot.

"Holy mackerel!"

"Suppose I sucked out your cunt juices, pronged my tongue into your 
asshole and then rammed it into your mouth," he said. "You'd love that, 
wouldn't you, Flair."

"Holy mackerel!"

But he was through teasing her. He was burning hot with throw desire. 
Her body was moist with sex sweat and his words had inflamed her poor 
puritanical mind. She humped crazily on his mouth and tried to suck his 
blade. In a trembling voice, feeling the hot joy of her eager attempts 
on his prong, he instructed her on how to give him pleasure. He dug his 
tongue into her cunt, sucked more of her juices, fingered into her 
flowing vagina and kept up a steady rhythm on her clit. Her big body 
writhed in ecstasy and he could imagine her dazed, strained face as she 
experienced her first double trip of oral sex.

"Phil, it's crazy, wild. I never dreamed anything could feel so good. 
Oh, oh, oh."

He'd lost Maddy, he acquired Flair, whom he didn't particularly want. 
But the big, dumb kid was one hot sex package, sixty times better than 
masturbation.

She was in her pre-orgasmic distress now, bucking, gasping, hardly able 
to keep up her part of the suck. Her magnificent body heaved in her 
desire to surrender her womanhood to him. Once again he tongued up into 
her crack. Her seam was ripe now with her escaped cunt oils, very sexy. 
He pressed his tongue on her sphincter and worked it, knowing that the 
sensitive nerves that protected her life-necessary hole were set on 
fire. She responded.

"Yeeee," she went. "Yeeee!"

She came up to lock with a gasp of wonder. Those silken thighs clamped 
around his head. Her muscles tensed. Then she gave up her cunt to him. 
Throb, throb, throb. God, she did have a store of passion which, for 
some dumb reason, he was the one to reach. Keening "Oh, oh, oh," she 
gave him her full, complete orgasm with surprising openness. In the 
past he'd found that some shy girls remained shy in bed.

At last she fell back, spent, panting. "Phil, it was sooooo good."

He laughed and pulled her warm body on top of his. "Now it's my turn."

She'd learned her lesson well. In seconds she had him dizzy and 
grunting as she sucked, tongue and teased his prick with the bony ridge 
of her teeth.

"Oh, Flair. Close . . . close . . . getting there!" he crooned.

Then he passed the ineffable, inevitable boundary when it was no longer 
possible to stop his orgasm.

"Remember, drink!" he grunted as he slid into paralysis.

"I Will!"

She sucked. He exploded.

Spurt, spurt, spurt. His jism was liquid fury, expended against his 
sorrow, his shock and his eternal lust. Flair held his cock in her 
mouth and drank off the spasms of relief and pleasure as he had 
ordered, milking him deliciously.

"Ah, Flair, drink! Ah, God, good!" he sang, letting it all go and spume 
out of him into her mouth, down her throat, his powerful manhood 
spurting what felt like a gallon of body-hot jism into her being. When 
he tapered, his prick felt immediately sensitive, so he withdrew it, 
catching his breath, delighted with the saliva sting on his blade, at 
all like sex. He kissed and nibbled Flair's satiny thighs in 
appreciation, and she responded in kind, the two of them stretched out 
flat and naked on the deck.

Footsteps. Suddenly he heard Maddy's voice.

"Oh, for heaven's sake!"

He looked up and there stood Maddy staring down on them, obviously 
seeing what had happened. Maddy was fully dressed. She was alone.

"Pig!" she cried. "Filthy, disgusting. Phil, you haven't changed a bit 
in two years. You're a regular sex maniac!"



Chapter 5


The Twentieth Century Limited roared into Chicago and dropped off Vic 
Singleton's group on its way to the coast. Out of Chicago they took the 
Coast Flyer for the rest of the transcontinental hop.

The train swayed and bounced at a high rate of speed, but George 
Panther was bored. They had three more days and nights to reach Los 
Angeles, and nobody was happy in the group except Vic and Maddy.

It was the middle of September, with Atlantic City and the water show 
behind them. As Houdini predicted, they'd had a couple of good weeks of 
business, filling the aquarium twice a night at five dollars a shot, 
and then suddenly it all faded, so they closed the show. It was time to 
move on to California and Vic's Invitational endurance swim.

Now it was early evening as they beat their way across Illinois towards 
Kansas City. Texas Bunny sat in George and Phil's compartment talking 
over the future in glum tones with George.

"Phil's in the club car getting stewed tonight, like last night," said 
George. "You know why?"

"Of course I know why," said Texas. "Maddy's compartment is right next 
to Flair's and mine. Vic Singleton spent most of the night in with her. 
Phil's really carrying the torch for that ridiculous brunette."

"And you're carrying the torch for Vic, and Flair's sore at her old man 
for planning to marry Maddy," said George. "One big, happy family."

"I'm lucky Vic even brought me along," said Texas in her shy, quiet 
voice. "But if I can get out to Hollywood, maybe I can find a spot in 
pictures."

George knew her hope. They were experimenting with sound in motion 
pictures these days. As a singer, Texas thought she might get in on the 
ground floor. George doubted that sound would make the grade. It was a 
great idea but there were thousands of theatres across the land, none 
wired for sound, and the cost to change them would run higher than the 
national budget.

"At least you have no problems," said Texas. "You'll stay with the team 
and do the swim." There was no place for her in the Catalina action.

"I got problems," said George. "Everybody's fucking everybody in this 
group, if you'll excuse my French, but I'm not getting any."

Texas laughed. "There're all kinds of women on this train."

"I've seen 'em," said George. "How about you and me tonight."

"Sorry, George," said Texas. She rose quickly. "I like you but not in 
that way."

"A million times I've heard that," gloomed George.

After she left, George sat there nursing his flask and feeling bad 
about his low position on the totem pole. Vic could tap Maddy and Texas 
Bunny. He was pretty sure Phil had racked up Texas as well as Flair. 
Three gorgeous broads and he got nothing. It just wasn't fair. Fuck 
Maddy, his niece? Why not? She was like a stranger to him.

After a bit Phil came in, looking rocky and glum, stripped and fell 
into his bunk. He was snoring before George could get out of the 
compartment. Poor guy, his big triumph was dust in his mouth.

George headed for the club car to find the swaying train's passengers 
already settling down for the night. Berths were made up, people were 
retiring.

George found Vic Singleton in the club car, with a worried look, going 
over his figures for the Catalina swim. Phil was really sticking big 
numbers on Singleton's board; it had to be a class operation. Good for 
Phil.

He spoke with Vic for a moment who said:

"Oh, George, would you mind giving Maddy a message for me? Tell her I'm 
going to bed early tonight." He gave George a wry smile. "Getting a 
little too much sex, I'm afraid," he whispered. "You know, older guy, 
younger woman. They want a lot. You see, if I go to tell her, I'll get 
excited again and the first thing you know it's another night in her 
compartment. I'm plumb wore out."

"It must be hard," said George, burning with envy.

"Or soft," kidded Vic. "A little too soft tonight."

He was gone with the wave of his hand.

George began to look for a knowing porter who did not believe in the 
Volstead Act and would find a way to refill his flask. I'll tell her, 
her thought. In fact, I'll put a one-night stand for you, Vic, and try 
to keep the kid happy. I oughta be good for one night.

Flask refilled, wallet lighter, George headed back to their Pullman, 
his resentment growing. What he ought to do was tie Vic's kid on her 
bunk and rip off a piece himself. He was getting real tired of moving 
among these three luscious dames and not getting any. 

"I'm tired of men," said Flair to Texas Bunny. Flair sat on her bunk in 
her panties and bra watching the platinum blonde comb her hair.

"Tell me about it," said Texas. She smiled to herself. She knew that 
Flair had been a virgin until recently and had had no man except Phil. 
Wonderful Phil, with that huge, stiff prong.

"I'll never marry," said Flair.

"Good idea, honey. Men drain you," said Texas. She had a suspicion of 
Flair's problem. Since Flair's father had dropped Texas, Flair had 
suddenly become friendly with her. Right now Flair hated Maddy.

"I could be a lesbian," said Flair.

"Sure you could, honey," said Texas. "With your looks you could be 
anything." It was said without rancor. Texas was well satisfied with 
her own beauty, except that she was thirty to Flair's twenty. But so 
what?

"Have you ever done it?" asked Flair.

"Done what, Flair?"

"Made love to another woman."

"Not me!" laughed Texas. "There's no chance of a home, kids and a 
strong wage-earner if you go that way."

"You don't want a home and kids," said Flair. "You want to sing, excite 
men and make your money."

Suddenly Texas felt herself caught from behind and felt a warm, near-
nude body pressing her. "You're sexy," said Flair dreamily. "Soft, 
sweet."

"My meat is loose on my bones, honey," laughed Texas nervously. She put 
down her comb. "Some men like that."

Flair kissed Texas on the back of the neck where shoulder joined 
throat. Texas shivered in a tremor of excitement.

"I'll bet we could make it," whispered Flair.

"Oh child, cut it out!" said Texas in alarm.

"I have to learn about sex," said Flair. "I'm twenty and totally 
ignorant."

Texas felt strong hands cup her breasts from behind. She wore only a 
thin dressing gown and her nipples jumped to life as Flair squeezed 
them. Texas felt a rush of sexuality clear down to her cunt.

"Nice," said Flair. Her voice sounded aroused.

"Cut it out!" cried Texas in her soft voice, thoroughly alarmed.

A strong hand ran up the slope of her throat and turned her head to her 
shoulder. Flair's warm lips sought hers and kissed.

"We're all alone in here, nobody to see or hear," whispered Flair. "We 
could get ourselves off and nobody would know. Isn't that swaying of 
the train sexy?"

"Forget it!" cried Texas in distress. She jumped up and freed herself. 
She turned to her bunk. Flair gave an excited laugh and caught her, 
fell on her taking her down on the bunk.

"Why don't we fool around a little?" said Flair.

Texas was really scared now. Flair was athletic, strong, weighed more 
than she did, and was younger to boot. And willful. Worse, that kiss on 
the lips had excited her some.

"Lay off of me!" cried Texas. She began to struggle which was a 
mistake. Flair held her down and wrestled, peeling off her robe. Texas 
found herself naked with Flair's big breasts almost in her face.

"Oh damn!" said Texas. She tried to strike Flair but the younger girl 
held her arm.

"You screwed my father," said Flair. "Why not try the rest of the 
Singleton meat."

"Flair!" gasped Texas. "Stop." Flair had put her strong hand on Texas 
Bunny's cunt.

Texas didn't know what to do. Flair was sort of spoiled, always got 
what she wanted. She might get them into deep trouble without realizing 
it. Then she had to gasp as Flair held her tight and fingered first 
along her cunt lips and then began to work a digit inside.

"Oh, Flair, don't do this!" she begged.

"I've never felt inside a cu-box except my own," said Flair. "Even that 
I couldn't feel much of until I lost my maidenhead. Just let me feel."

"No, no, no!" cried Texas, struggling. Her butt came off the bed, her 
legs spread. She gave a fruity groan as her teased cunt wetted and 
Flair's long finger dipped into her honey interior. "Ohmigod," Texas 
whimpered. Thrill after thrill shot up her belly as Flair force-
masturbated her. That demanding finger caressing her clit was arousing 
her, heating her up.

"You're so good looking," breathed Flair. Her hot eyes swept Texas's 
body. Frigging Texas, she suddenly dropped her head and began to suck 
one of Texas's tits.

"Aw, Gawd!" gasped Texas, thrilling, struggling, dizzy with sudden good 
feeling.. Flair had a real tight friction going on her clit. That 
questing tongue on her nipple crazed her further.

Flair lifted her head. "You're one hot bitch," she said as they both 
watched Texas Bunny's loins rock and buck to the masturbation.

"Oh my God, Flair, please don't d-do this," Bunny begged.

"I just want to see," began Flair. Then suddenly she capped Bunny's 
soft lips with hers and forced open Bunny's mouth. Texas felt the soft, 
smooth tongue slide in.

In spite of herself Texas took the hot, wet kiss for a few seconds as 
her heart thumped madly. She was hot now with her cunt flowing and her 
belly on fire with desire.

"I can make you come!" cried Flair, like a kid with a new toy. "I know 
I can!"

"S-s-sure!" moaned Texas. She was fairly lost now, rocking her taken 
cunt on Flair's finger, her nipples burning, her belly ready.

The attack stopped as suddenly as it had began. Flair removed her 
finger, let go of Texas Bunny and fell back on the bunk. Her own hand 
moved to stroke her own cunt.

"I'm wet," she announced. "I'm kind of hot."

Texas was plenty hot. For some reason this sudden withdrawal made her 
mad.

"You bitch!" she cried in her soft voice. She flung herself on Flair's 
body, and bit the hard, standing nipple of one of Flair's gorgeous 
breasts. She expected Flair to scream, but the girl only moaned in 
pleasure. The bra had saved her.

"Oh, yessss, I like that!" crooned Flair. While Texas looked at her 
astonished, she unhooked her bra and presented her naked tit. Texas bit 
again on the exposed hard nipple, felt the caress of the soft breast 
flesh. She felt her belly heat up some more. It was delightful to kiss 
another woman's breasts with ardor. Especially a good-looking girl like 
Flair.

"I like it, too!" said Texas. She palmed one nipple and ate the other. 
Criminy, Flair was really built. Her own nipples thrilled to dig 
against Flair's smooth, yielding flesh.

"Just a minute."

Flair struggled under Texas and removed her panties. Their naked 
bellies came together. Softly they both made fuck motions against the 
pelvis of the other. Texas found the results were startling. Female 
pelvic bones dragged sexily on soft, wet cunts, stimulating eager 
clitoris. Flair's hot cunt honey smeared on Texas's platinum bush. She 
moaned, while Flair gasped.

Flair put her hands on Texas' soft buttocks and held their loins tight 
together while they ground out glory, each staring into the other's 
eyes, with expressions of daring, pleasure, wonder and even a little 
embarrassment flitting over their faces, each emotion in turn.

"Incredible," said Flair.

"Sexy," said Texas.

"Hot, wet," said Flair.

"We can come like this," breathed Texas, humping faster.

Time stopped for Texas Bunny, getting the best of the action in the 
superior position. She was wildly excited by Flair's body now, 
experiencing a totally new sensation. Flair was muscled but not like a 
man. She wasn't hard, just firm. Her hot young skin flowed through 
Texas' hands as the singer rocked and crooned in pleasure, white hot 
from the clit contact. Texas kissed and nibbled Flair's big nipples 
until the younger woman whimpered in distress-desire. She sank her 
mouth on Flair's sucking out juices from the hot young mouth; she felt 
the big, voluptuous body squirm and writhe deliciously under her. All 
the time she was rising, rising.

And the train swayed along in a gentle, sexual motion that added fire 
to her flames.

"Oh, God, I'm fucked!" Texas cried as she reached her peak. She stared 
down at Flair in horror as she realized she was about to spend her 
womanhood in perverted lesbian debauchery. There was no way to stop it. 
She thrilled to ecstasy.

"Oh, Flair!" She froze and paid off her sex treasure. Throb, throb, 
throb. Her cunt thudded and fluttered in delicious spasms that quenched 
the hot, brilliant fire in her belly. Flair held her buttocks tight and 
ground off Texas' deep body throbs with her pelvis, while Texas moaned 
and Flair murmured happily to feel this new sex experience, a hot, 
flowing cunt expiring against her belly. The combined female juices 
oiled their bellies, cunts and thighs liberally.

Then breathing hard Texas slumped on top of Flair's nudity and gave a 
tinkling laugh.

"Does that answer your question?"

"Oh, Texas, what have I got us into?" cried Flair. Having forced the 
other woman's sexuality, her puritan nature took over.

"Into some hot girl fucking," laughed Texas. She spread Flair's thighs 
and went for her muff and slit, licking avidly at the spent juices, so 
warm and musky. As long as they'd started it was better to wallow than 
dip.

Texas was the aggressor now as she sucked and tongued Flair's burning 
cunt. Flair lay there, legs spread, hot mouth eating her cunt and felt 
astonished. She had merely been watching Texas comb her hair shortly 
before and had wondered what a man would think, staring at the singer. 
She'd fooled around a little and look at what they were into. But it 
was great fun to play with Texas Bunny's soft, helpless body. To finger 
into her box, kiss her shapely breasts and suck on her weak, sensual 
mouth. Texas was all woman. Now Texas was taking her.

Flair lifted her butt from the bed and fucked happily on the other's 
face. She gave herself thrills by cupping her own breasts and releasing 
the heavenly fire of nipple stimulation. She felt pierced into her 
being, almost as taken as if Phil's big, impossible prick grooved into 
her passage.

"Lovely, oh, lovely!" she sang, rising to peak.

"Go, you bitch," laughed Texas. Her small fox-like face was smeared 
with love juices as she peered over Flair's belly. "You wanted the 
trip, now pay the price." Then she sucked hard again on Flair's cunt 
and Flair went right up through the train roof.

"Oh, he, he, he heeeee!" she stormed, lifting again and feeling her 
body lock in exquisite pre-orgasm. She hung there and quivered as her 
sex system got ready to deliver.

"Go!" she yipped.

Throb, throb, throb. Her cunt squeezed out flame and relief in one of 
her strong orgasms, her organ convulsing much as she thought a prick 
must do when it exploded. She gave sobs of delight, relief and pleasure 
as she gave up her own sex treasure to her pillaging lover. Again and 
again she threw off convulsive, rich throbs of tribute to the hungry 
mouth that clung to her belly. Finally desire, relief and pleasure 
ebbed, to leave her panting and glowing, fully taken.

"I guess we . . . did it," she said shyly to Texas Bunny.

Texas crawled up on her big body and laid on top of her again.

"How about one more time before we go back to the world of the normal," 
said Texas, as she teased Flair by smearing her cunt-oiled cheeks on 
Flair's. 

George Panther didn't deliver Vic's message to Maddy right away. 
Instead he went back to his compartment to listen to Phil snore and tap 
his flask a little, but not too much. He kept thinking about the 
beautiful set-up that only he knew about. Singleton had bought them 
four compartments right in a row. A compartment, or bedroom, had two 
bunks, its own toilet that the railroad called "enclosed facility" and 
plenty of room to move around in privacy. During the day the bunks made 
two quite adequate sofas to lounge on. In the Singleton string, there 
was Maddy, all alone on one end, as befitted Vic's intended. Next came 
Texas and Flair's. Flair didn't want to be alone, so she bunked in with 
Texas. Then came Phil and George together, and finally Vic all alone in 
the fourth compartment, as befitted their bankroller.

So Maddy was all alone in her big private compartment, waiting for Vic 
to sneak in for some fun as he had done last night. Except Vic wouldn't 
be coming tonight. George tried to imagine a way he could entice Maddy 
to trade off. Maybe he could get her drunk . . . no, the nurse-athlete 
didn't drink. Maybe he could appeal to her because he was eight years 
younger than Vic, but still a father figure. No, that wouldn't work. 
What if he jollied her and kidded around? Some people like to cheat on 
their lovers, get a little secret outside sex. Adultery was based on 
that. But he didn't think Maddy was the type and even if she were, she 
wouldn't take chances on losing Vic before they were for Crissake even 
married.

It would make a great Mack Sennett comedy, but life wasn't show 
business, nor a comedy. It was just dull. Still, he'd give a hundred 
dollars for ten minutes of hot sex with Maddy; it would brighten this 
whole humdrum train trip for him.

A lot later he went out into the corridor and checked Vic's bedroom. 
Vic's door was locked, the guy was bedded down for the night. He 
listened at the door of Texas and Flair's compartment, and he thought 
he heard voices. It didn't matter. Once women took off their public 
clothes and makeup they weren't likely to go parading around train 
corridors. Those ladies were also in for the night. Nor with the 
singsong rumble of the train wheels on the track would they be able to 
hear anything that went on next door at Maddy's.

George stood in the tight corridor on the swaying train for long 
moments before he knocked on Maddy's door to deliver Vic's message that 
Vic wouldn't be coming. It must have been about ten o'clock but it felt 
like one in the morning. Absolutely nobody was moving in this car, as 
far as he could see either way.

What would happen, he'd go in, deliver his message, make some dumb 
verbal pass, be refused and be out and back in his own compartment in 
less than a minute. She might just open the door and peek out and that 
would be all he got, a peek at a slice of her face and "goodnight".

Shit. Forget stolen sex. Knock on her door, deliver Vic's message and 
get it over with. His flask never said "no" to him.

He tapped on Maddy's door. Nothing happened. He tapped again and waited 
but nothing happened. He knew her door was not locked; it had to be 
open or Vic couldn't slip in. The railroad didn't hand out keys.

He opened her door and peeked in. The dim night light was on. Maddy 
laid on top of her bunk waiting for her lover, and she wore a sheer 
gown of silk that was mere gauze. He could see both her nipples plainly 
through the filmy stuff.

She was fast asleep!

Heart pounding, George Panther slipped into her compartment and closed 
and locked the door.



Chapter 6


The train wheels clicked and the Pullman car rumbled while it swayed 
gently. George was all alone in a locked compartment with sexy young 
Maddy. She continued to sleep without the slightest sign of being aware 
anybody was in the room, her charms in that see-through negligee on 
bold display. Her skin was incredibly white and fine; her figure 
incredibly good. George could see almost every detail of her two ivory 
breasts, from the round bases up the exciting slopes to big aureoles 
and two succulent nipples. His niece? Easy to forget that!

His eyes swept on down to her flat stomach and navel, to her trim 
abdomen and then the exciting part, a thick bush of luxuriant black 
pubic hair that set off the pink of a small cunt that dazzled him. 
There was the sweet slope of her thighs and the clever curves of her 
calves, her whole body on display for him.

As he sat down tentatively on the sofa the porter hadn't made up, his 
cock began to rise. He thought Flair was as sexy a woman as he'd ever 
seen. Well, Maddy was Flair with an ivory skin instead of the tan, and 
luxurious hair of black instead of gold.

"Oh, baby, you are built!" he informed himself in a murmur.

Just to feast his eyes on the girl's nudity almost paid off for the 
trip. Well, he certainly didn't have to leave right away. She was 
asleep, apparently good for eight hours. Vic wouldn't be coming. His 
pulse was fast, his breathing deep, and his cock was now stiff in his 
pants. He sometimes had problems with hardons with his two dollar 
whores, but not here! It was more like Maddy Metcalf was a sexual 
sleeping beauty.

He unbuttoned his pants and took out his cock. The train did not come 
to a screeching halt. Vic did not break down the door with an axe and 
rush shouting at him. Maddy did not wake up and scream. Nothing at all 
happened. The train rushed on through the night while the girl bounced 
sexily from the car motion, loose as a doll and he sat there with his 
exposed cock rock hard and thrilling.

George felt better. He might make something of a sexual adventure of 
this after all. Staring at the luscious body he jerked off until he 
dry-throbbed, unashamed and unconscious of his masturbation at his age. 
He did it whenever he found it necessary or desirable.

But tonight it didn't make sense when there was luscious female flesh 
to touch. He took off his pants and shorts and mounted Maddy's hips. 
She neither wakened nor moved except natural motions of sleep and the 
bounce of the railroad car.

He laid back her robe exposing her nudity. Her breasts drew his hands 
like magnets. He cupped each warm beauty and felt her unconscious 
response as the nipples rose to caress his palms.

"Oh, baby!" he thrilled.

She moved to make a brush-off gesture, so he quickly withdrew his 
hands. He lowered himself gently until his hard, burning cock rested on 
the smooth ivory skin of her belly. He rocked, prick caught between his 
belly and hers, feeling rushes of pure delight throughout his belly. 
Ah, this was more like it.

He got in about a dozen luscious strokes before she moved and 
frightened him into pulling up, his blade now dry-throbbing furiously 
from contact with that silken, sleep-hot belly. He felt pretty wild 
now. He risked spreading her legs, his heart pumping furiously. He made 
it on the second try.

"Great balls of fire, there it is, George!" he exulted.

Her pink cunt was totally open for prick play. But it was dry, of 
course. He'd wake her up if he plunged in, and he'd wake her up if he 
diddled her to make her juices flow. A neat problem. He forged ahead 
anyway, gently rubbing her warm cunt lips to see what could be done. He 
knew it was a losing game. By the time he got her hot and got his cock 
in she'd be awake and he was dead. Vic would fire him, he'd lose out 
with Phil and be put off the train at the next stop. Was one orgasm 
worth it?

Yet as he worked slowly and carefully his luck held. The warm little 
cunt in his hand grew slippery and began to swell. Once or twice the 
girl softly moaned in her sleep and bucked a little on his fingers. He 
guessed she was having sweet erotic dreams about now.

Suddenly his finger slipped all the way into her tight, body-hot 
vagina. She was all juiced up. He froze, thrilling to feel her pink 
cunt tunnel velvety around his fingers, oiled and ready now. She 
murmured groggily and half-opened her eyes. He gasped in fear and 
pulled his fingers out.

She moved a little but slept on. Then his eye fell on the small bottle 
by her bed. It was Phenobarbital, a liquid sleeping medicine. He'd used 
enough of it himself to recognize it. It was powerful, prescription 
stuff but easy for a nurse to get. He chuckled when he saw what had 
happened. Disappointed when Vic didn't show up, the girl must've taken 
a sleeping shot to drift to sleep. It would take more than gentle 
manipulation to waken her!

He was really on fire now. He had a good chance to get away with a 
fuck! He waited till she settled once again into undisturbed sleep, his 
nerves high with desire. She could be had all the way.

This time he eased her belly up a little and positioned his prick for 
entry. Then he pressed it forward, gently but firmly. His eager blade 
violated her outer cunt lips, found her notch. He gave a soft grunt of 
happiness and oozed into her, the young vagina gripping his jong with 
oiled persistence. The friction was fantastic!

"Oh, oh," he moaned in sublime pleasure. His wildest dream had been 
fulfilled. He had his stiff cock fucked right inside Maddy Metcalf's 
belly! Their loins slid together as he buried his cock all the way up 
into her. She bucked under him and murmured as if coming awake. He 
froze, hoping that she . . . .

Catastrophe!

The excitement had been too much for his tensed-up sex equipment. Just 
as he got ready for a gentle, long sneak-fuck, his pleasure nerves 
overloaded. He was going to have to come and there was no way to stop 
it. He groaned in disappointment and pleasure as he felt the great rise 
to inevitable ejaculation.

"S-sorry!" he gasped.

Spurt! He'd committed incest with his niece!

He shot off a great dart of liquid relief and joy inside of her cunt. 
Then he panicked. She was stirring too much. He jerked back and out of 
her cunt, cock gleaming with her oils and spuming. He laid on the 
outside of her creamy-smooth belly and let the rest of his seed spew 
out. His excitement in this adventure had been so great that his jism 
shot clear up her body to her throat.

Spurt, spurt, spurt. "Ahhh."

As his shots lost force the strings didn't reach so high. For wild 
seconds he reveled in his hot throw, jerking, spending, laying oily 
sperm down her cleavage and onto her belly. Then he was done, glowing 
with good feeling of the after-fuck. Emptied.

But she was a mess. His overfull reservoirs had laid a river of sperm 
from her throat, between her breasts, down her belly to her cunt. And 
she stirred and gurgled. "Wha'sisss!"

He pulled back off of her, sure she was going to wake up. But she 
didn't. She went back to sleep with her sexy body gleaming with his 
trail of jism all the way down. He jumped up and used his pocket 
handkerchief to clean her as best he could, then fled the compartment.

Safe in his own bed, he congratulated himself on his big adventure. He 
fulfilled his wild dream all the way. He'd gotten his cock all the way 
up Maddy's cunt and even shot one lick against her womb wall. But he 
wished now he'd finished inside of her. It wasn't quite as perfect as 
he'd hoped. But his emptied groin felt great, and he slept . . . .

Only to awaken with a start and find his cock rock-hard again. Spilling 
that semen had only made him eager for more. It was the old story. The 
more you got, the more you wanted.

George looked at his watch. He figured it must be near dawn. Holy 
Hackensack, no! It was only twelve-thirty. It had only been two hours 
ago that he diddled Maddy. Time on the train really slowed down. At 
this rate it would be five centuries till dawn.

So there she was, still in her drugged sleep, still naked. He could go 
back for more!

Oh, no, George. You dreamed of it; you got it. You told yourself that 
one good shot would make this whole train trip happy. You've had your 
shot.

But it was a long way till dawn.

He tried to go back to sleep. He could not. His cock stayed hard his 
mind in imagining a second successful visit to Maddy's heavenly 
compartment.

At last he rose groggily, took a nip of his flask, and staggered out 
into the corridor to finish the job he'd botched so badly out of fright 
the first time. It was that or lie awake till dawn with regrets. He was 
a knight in shining armor off to complete the unfinished business of 
his sexual conquest. Only his armor was merely his shorts. This time he 
moved quickly, with determination. He went through the compartment door 
without knocking and right to Maddy's bunk.

He'd turned off the light on that first trip, so her bed was dark. Must 
remember to leave it on so she wouldn't be wise in the morning. She was 
still there, still naked, still sleeping.

Thrilling again, feeling much more confident, he mounted her body. He 
felt up her smooth body, the rib cage, cupped her breasts. Oh, yes. 
Once again her nipples rose to his palms. Ahhh. He gently jigged her 
cunt, getting her wet once more. She was still a little moist from his 
last trip; he knew that women often stayed moist for some time after 
sex.

She stirred and moaned but he didn't worry this time. In her drugged 
sleep he should be able to take her. If she cried out Vic's name, all 
he had to do was whisper as if he were Vic. Her addled mind wouldn't 
know the difference.

There! She was nice and liquid, her velvety cunt sexy on his fingers 
but not nearly as sexy as it would feel on his prick!

Once again he slanted her loins up a little, fitted his cock to her 
hole and shoved in past the outer cunt lips to notch her passage.

"Uuuuuu," he cried softly in delight as his shaft oozed deep into her 
body, giving him wild thrills. "You are a fuck," he murmured.

She stirred and bucked some in her drugged sleep.

"Easy, baby. Keep it quiet," he whispered. Then he began long, 
delicious, pleasure-crazing strokes in and out of her cunt. She started 
to moan and gasp, flexing under him. His cock thrilled madly.

"Ah, uh," she went.

"Sleep, sleep," he crooned. "Just enjoy."

He slid over onto her body rocking his prick in and out of her cunt 
more and more boldly. He felt her soft thighs quiver and clutch on his 
flanks as he began to breathe heavily. She was half-awake, but of 
course she would think in the darkness that it was Vic. The friction 
really maddened him with pleasure now. He risked the full hug of her 
body, kissing those stiff nipples, nibbling, palming as his fucking 
loins drove faster and faster.

She was half awake now, grunting in pleasure, taking his fuck and 
responding groggily with murmurs and sighs.

Heaven. Pure unalloyed heaven, rocking his cock deep into the belly of 
the luscious Maddy with the resilient firm flesh, the creamy skin, the 
tight young cunt. He was miles away from his loose-jointed, two-dollar 
whores. This was princess stuff.

The train rocked and swayed, adding to his sensuous pleasure, the 
plunging cock and cunt met and parted sending streams of pleasure fire 
through all of his body. The girl gasped and writhed and he felt 
powerful fires begin to consume his belly. There was nothing like 
plugging young flappers!

"Oh, baby, oh. I love this kind of train travel."

"Sooo sexxxxy!" she cried softly.

Even as he rose to ecstasy he felt a finger of caution. Maddy didn't 
sound drugged. Maddy was fucking him as lusciously as he fucked her. 
Maddy was going on his trip! But she thought he was Vic, so he'd better 
keep his mouth shut. Anyway, it hardly mattered because he'd entered 
the sublime plateau of animal lust to where orgasm and relief were only 
seconds away. And how luscious was the sensation of maddening pleasure 
on his shaft.

"Going . . . to go . . . ." he whispered.

The hot girl astonished him. At his words, as if they were a signal, 
she lifted her powerful loins under him, grunted and began to give up 
her womanhood.

"Ah-huh!" she gasped. Throb, throb, throb. "Oh, Phil!"

Something disturbed him but he was too crazed with joy to worry about 
it as he felt those strong cunt throbs that told he'd satisfied his 
partner and could explode in happiness.

"Here . . . goes!" he hissed in sublime pleasure.

As he froze for orgasm, clutching the voluptuous body, a light flashed 
on. A sleepy platinum crowned head peered at him.

"Wha's going on!", asked Texas Bunny. "Whut you doin' to Flair?"

"Oh, Flair," said George. Then his heart gave a great leap.

"George!" screamed Flair. "Thought you were Phil!"

"Ah-gung," cried George. It was too, too late. He clutched Flair whose 
body so closely resembled Maddy's, sang out his joy and burst. Nothing 
ever felt so good, hugging that delicious, tanned body and pumping off 
his seed deep in her cunt. Spurt, spurt, spurt.

"Ooooo-ieeeooooeeee," sang George, getting an extra pleasure lift out 
of his natural mistake. He gushed and gushed, shivering in ecstasy as 
he seeded the kid's body.

"Why are you fucking George!" asked a puzzled Texas Bunny of Flair.

Flair wanted to stop but the sensual pleasure was altogether too much. 
She grunted and lifted up to the spuming cock inside of her and 
throbbed off more thrilled cunt spasms to the command of the male's 
bursting orgasm.

"There's not a heck of a lot - ahh - I can do about it j-j-just now!" 
cried Flair, giving up her sex treasure to the older man.

George finished in style. You learned that in show business. If you 
made a big mistake right up on the stage in front of everybody the best 
thing to do was go right ahead like it was part of the show. Of course 
he'd staggered into the wrong compartment in his groggy state and got 
the wrong girl, but then he dreamed of pronging Vic's sexy daughter 
even longer than Maddy. And except for the skin and hair, they were 
almost exactly the same in those voluptuous builds.

"Ah, baby," he murmured, hugging Flair as they both finished orgasms 
and fell off the tension to that wonderful after-sex glow. "I been 
sleepwalking. Thought I was back in Dallas with my wonderful Mildred." 
He'd never been in Dallas and never known a "Mildred" but an ad-lib was 
called for and a quick-thinking showman had to come up with it.

"Mildred, hell," said Flair, eyes flashing as she struggled out from 
under him. "When I tell my Daddy you raped me, you'll go right off this 
train to jail."

"Pig!" cried Texas Bunny.

George got up and grabbed his shorts. "Sorry . . . ."

The two women were really angry now.

"George Panther, you've ruined yourself," cried Flair. "Look at me, all 
filled with your stupid seed."

"Pervert!" said Texas.

But George had a sudden brainstorm. "Hey, Flair you were kinda moist 
when I mounted." He whirled, grabbed Texas and felt in her crotch. Even 
through her nightie he could feel that her cunt was much too soft and 
moist. It had seen action sometime in this night.

"Well, well," he grinned. "It looks like you girls have been at each 
other tonight. Does your daddy know about that, Flair?"

There was a sudden silence in the compartment.

"Just get out of here, George," said Flair after too long a pause.

"Wou'd've thought it? His ex-mistress and his daughter, fucking each 
other's brains out. Probably been going on for weeks."

Two pillows came flying in his direction as George laughed and 
retreated in triumph. He'd knocked off both, Maddy and Flair in one 
night. His train trip was turned from a dismal flop to a sparkling 
smash hit all in a few hours. There might even be more up ahead! Maddy 
didn't know she'd been had, and Flair wouldn't dare tell. He'd hit a 
Babe Ruth banger over the right field fence!

He retrieved his flask and cuddled back happily into his bunk by the 
still snoring Phil.

"George," he told the flask as if it were himself, "You're the cat's 
pajamas. Or is it the Panther's pajamas?"



Chapter 7


"Pay attention," said Phil.

He was lecturing Vic Singleton, George Panther, Maddy and Flair on 
endurance swimming in Vic's suite in a Long Beach hotel. The ex-
bootlegger was having a hard time learning about this strange world, 
but with the announcement of the swim contestant to the papers and 
radio, Phil insisted that Vic as the sponsor ought to know a little 
about swimming and endurance.

Phil pointed out that many land mammals besides man could swim, and in 
the case of fire or catastrophe swim well indeed with no prior 
experience in the water. Sea mammals, of course, did the best. Whales 
could swim for thousands of miles at good speeds. Seals could swim 
easily at five miles an hour and reach up to twenty miles an hour if 
they were chasing their dinners. Porpoises had been known to keep up 
with modern steamships, while a mammoth sea turtle had been clocked at 
twenty-two miles per hour. Penguins could easily do ten miles an hour 
and go up to thirty in short bursts. Some had been found more than a 
thousand miles from land, quite happy in the desert of the ocean.

Polar bears were great swimmers, well-insulated for their cold water 
environment and had been clocked at six miles per hour, while a trained 
human swimmer would be lucky to do three for short bursts.

Tigers and elephants had been found swimming; the only way they could 
reach certain isolated islands in the South Pacific or near Africa. 
Monkeys had been taught to swim for the inducement of food thrown upon 
the water.

Small mammals were likewise capable of good swimming records. Rats had 
been kept swimming steadily for fourteen hours, as well as woodchucks, 
chipmunks, skunks and possums in stints of six to eight hours.

"I hope no skunks enter my race," laughed Vic.

"You'll get a few human ones," commented George.

Phil moved on to human swimmers. Slow in speed they could still last 
for many hours in the water. Most challenging was the English Channel 
swim, first conquered by Matthew Webb in August of 1875 in the time of 
twenty-one hours and forty five minutes. It was thirty-six years before 
anyone was able to successfully swim the channel again. Several other 
men accomplished it, but Gertrude Ederle's recent swim was not only the 
first female success, but she set a new time record of fourteen hours 
and forty minutes, from France to the English coast and won her ticker 
tape parade, fame and money. The English Channel distance was exactly 
twenty-two miles.

"But we have a twenty-two mile swim from Avalon to the California 
coast," said Phil "And no one has officially done the Catalina straits 
at all. So the publicity, after the Ederle swim, is going to be 
enormous. You, Vic, are going to have to know a little something about 
professional swimming. The newspapers treat such swims as a kind of 
weird circus anyway, so a little reality coming from you will help the 
cause."

He then went into some of the factors that made for good endurance 
swimming. Protection from the cold was important. That's why he thought 
Maddy had a good chance to win this show, because women's bodies were 
better insulated than men's, with a fatty layer just under the skin. 
However, the Catalina water, even in January, should not be a great 
problem. Buoyancy was a factor. Surprisingly the best endurance 
swimmers hung low in the water. Surface swimming offered waves and 
currents to slow the pace. Those who could swim deeper in the water did 
better, so a neutral or even negative buoyancy was best. The power in 
swimming came from the arms and muscles in the upper torso, so the arms 
should not be too long; a compact, symmetrical torso and arms in 
proportion was best.

Phil didn't believe that legs counted at all in long-distance swimming.

"The motion's wasted in up and down movement," he said. "It's like 
pumping a bicycle where most of the effort is wasted in up and down 
motion, maybe ninety percent. I teach my swimmers to use the legs as 
little as possible or not at all."

The rest was a matter of the individual's physique. Great oxygen 
intake, rapid sugar conversion for energy, a slow heart rate from good 
conditioning, plus an iron will to win - these things made up the 
pattern of a champion endurance swimmer. To this you could add training 
for the specific event and that was the whole story.

"What about kinds of strokes?" asked George.

"I teach crawl," said Phil. "However, I long ago learned not to force 
an ideal stroke on a swimmer. There is no ideal stroke, because bodies 
are different. I once saw a swimmer with a frenzied eighty or ninety 
strokes a minute, hanging on top of the water and felt sure he was 
going to drown. He beat all my well-trained students instead."

"I remember that," said Maddy as they all laughed.

"What kind of gear will Maddy need?" asked Vic.

"Not much," said Phil. "Endurance swimming is cheap. Nose clips if she 
wants, although most don't use 'em. Some ear protection against later 
infection, perhaps cotton with a little oil to combat water 
penetration. A cap to cover the ears, certainly. It cuts down heat loss 
up to twenty percent. Lots of swims are lost by the swimmer getting too 
cold; it's as simple as that. Goggles for the eyes, yes, in salt 
water."

"And grease?" asked George, fantasizing the bodies of the girl swimmers 
glistening sexually.

"Probably," said Phil, "but you have the problem of a thin grease like 
Vaseline wearing off too quickly and a thick one like lanolin being 
hard to apply. You only need a millimeter or so. If nothing else it 
gives a psychological lift. Also it saves the friction points of the 
body from burns. Hours in the water and your armpits, groin, shoulders 
and even chin begin to ache pretty badly. But no grease on the face or 
arms. Grease on the face makes it impossible to keep the eyegoggles 
sealed, and on the arms gives you a loss of the arm's biting power in 
the water. Greased arms allow slippage and loss of power.

"Now," he finished, "you already have learned more than ninety percent 
of your newspaper readers will know about swimmers and swimming for 
records. Anything the reporters ask beyond that you can turn over to me 
as technical consultant."

"What if they claim the swim is rigged because Maddy works for Vic, the 
promoter?" asked George.

"A swim is a swim is a swim," said Phil. "We'll have impartial judges. 
The first one in at Catalina and out at Point Vicente is the best 
swimmer and it doesn't matter who she's related to, or works for. It's 
a fair swim."

"I'm glad you said that," said Flair. "I'm going to swim, too. I'm 
going to hire my own trainer. And I'm going to win, too."

Having dropped her bombshell, she gave Maddy and the others a dirty 
look and left the room while the group stared after her in 
astonishment.

To Phil's sorrow the New Jersey group was broken up now. Flair's sudden 
decision to enter the swim and compete against Maddy was only the 
latest blow.

"How can she do in this race?" George asked Phil.

"Flair's a helluva swimmer," said Phil. "With the right training and 
some luck she could give us a bad time."

"How do you feel about Maddy now that she's . . . she's . . . ."

Phil felt his face set sternly. "I dreamed up this whole thing for 
Maddy to begin with," he said. "It makes no difference to me that she's 
decided to marry Vic. I owe her a good winning swim and I'll give her 
my best."

Secretly he felt quite hurt. He realized that he'd counted on the old 
intimacy but it was gone. He had Maddy during the daytime but her 
nights belonged to Vic. Once the training started he began to scold her 
for her night time activities.

"You're losing sleep, f-f-fooling around with your fiance too much," he 
complained. "How can I bring you to top form when you dissipate my work 
each night?"

She merely gave him a cool, infuriating smile. "Look at my daily 
records. At this point in my training I'm way ahead of where I was when 
you and I worked together before. Love makes the difference."

He could've killed her.

Flair disassociated herself from the group. She found her own trainer 
and paid him from her own funds. When Phil complained to Vic he got 
practically no response.

"She has my guts," said Vic. "It's good for her to step out on her 
own."

"She could give us bad publicity."

"Maybe the public will go for my fiance and my daughter competing for 
the prize I give," said Vic proudly.

They did. The newspaper and radio stations also began to build interest 
in the endurance swim because it was open to all with no entrance fee, 
and the prizes were huge. Phil had had a fierce struggle with Vic on 
that.

"Twenty-five thousand dollars to the winner!" roared Vic. "That's five 
times too much!"

"Twenty-five, fifteen and ten," insisted Phil. "A channel swim is 
already thought to be a nutty, useless affair by most people. But 
nobody thinks twenty-five thousand dollars is silly, not even with Wall 
Street booming."

In the end he won his point, and it was a wise decision. The newspapers 
and the public would ignore some ego maniac making the swim to get his 
name in the papers. Or a small affair sponsored by some athletic club 
for a minor prize was only of limited local interest. But these days a 
whole family could live extremely well on twenty-five hundred dollars a 
year. A comfortable living for ten whole years was important money. 
Invested properly it could last the winner almost indefinitely.

So the entries poured in, as interest mounted, and the publicity for 
the Vic Singleton Invitational Swim grew across the nation and 
stimulated interest in foreign countries. Very soon a snowball effect 
carried them along to the delight of Vic.

"We've got a legless newspaper vendor from San Francisco, and a 
seventy-year-old entry from Nebraska," he told Phil. "One of the papers 
is going to start a daily column on us in December, and I'm almost 
tired of seeing my name in print. Me, Vic Singleton, a nobody from 
Jersey City, New Jersey. I got to hand it to you, Phillip."

But Phil could only answer with a dour "Thanks." For him it was 
afternoons in the training boat following Maddy's daily swims, 
directing her conditioning on land, watching her diet and worrying, as 
he spent lonely evenings alone in his hotel room. He was even deprived 
of the company of Texas Bunny who was lost somewhere inland a few miles 
in the dusty streets of Hollywood, trying to advance her singing 
career. Nights she had a job warbling in a small night club, so she 
didn't come around at all anymore.

By Thanksgiving he grew philosophical about it.

"Love and sex had crumbed up my life every time out," he told George. 
"At least this time there's no chance to spoil things that way."

"Considering that it almost got you killed with Vic and now you're his 
fair-haired boy, I'd say it didn't hurt you too much," George responded 
dryly. As Vic's main publicity man he found life quite interesting, 
especially when certain female, nubile entrants sought his after-hours 
company with the mistaken idea that they'd have a better chance if they 
could get close to an "insider."

The holidays came and went with Phil busy if not happy. He hardly 
noticed as the swim date of the middle of January rushed towards him.

On the night before the race all the contestants were brought by boat 
from the mainland to the Avalon settlement in Catalina. Hotels were 
filled; most camped in tents along the beach. There was a general 
carnival air to the whole area, with the rising excitement about 
tomorrow's race. Although more than three hundred people had entered 
during the long publicity build-up, the actual contestants were down to 
about a hundred and fifty on the last night before the event. The 
coldness of the water accounted for most of the dropouts, because in 
January the temperature ran between fifty-five to sixty-five degrees.

Vic Singleton's yacht had been brought around the canal from Atlantic 
City a couple of months earlier. On this last night he gave a 
candlelight dinner party for a select few in the big dining room. His 
guests included a sports editor, the head of the biggest radio station 
in the area, a motion picture mogul and officials from the Long Beach 
and Los Angeles city councils. The guests enjoyed champagne and steak 
as well as the presence of Flair, Maddy and Texas Bunny, whom Vic 
invited especially so she could meet the movie mogul.

It was to be a truce for the night but of course Maddy and Flair who 
had to swim tomorrow could not stay late.

After the dinner was over, Maddy, eyes shining, took Phil by the hand.

"Come to the stateroom," she begged. "I want you to see my wedding 
gown. It's the most gorgeous creation I ever saw."

Phil had already seen her wedding gown. Flair had dragged him there 
when he first arrived. It was indeed an expensive affair of white satin 
and veils, displayed on a dresser's dummy in the big bedroom. To Phil 
it looked like enough cloth and train to cover three brides. Both the 
gown and the room left a sour taste in his mouth. It was here that he'd 
first pronged Flair but it was also here that he'd seen Vic screw the 
love of his life and change everything.

"Very fine," he murmured to Flair.

"What are you going to do about it!" cried Flair. "Right after the race 
that slut is going to marry my father!"

What Phil did about it was haul off and slap Flair a resounding smack 
on the face. His nerves were screwed up to the breaking point, but 
Maddy was no slut. He stalked back to the dinner, leaving Flair shocked 
and in silence, glaring after him in rage.

Now with the dinner over, Maddy wanted him to see the dress for a 
second time and he had to go because he couldn't admit he'd seen it 
already. On the night before a big race you humored your star athlete. 
Flair sat with her father, head resting dreamily on his shoulder, 
monopolizing all his attention. Texas Bunny was involved with the movie 
mogul, George was making eyes at the nubile wife of one of the city 
officials, while the husband loaded on the champagne. Phil and Maddy 
slipped away.

The wedding dress was no more. In the short interval that the dinner 
had taken place, someone had slipped into the bedroom and slashed it to 
threads. Long, useless pieces of satin fluttered from the dressmaker's 
form and torn veils littered the floor.

Phil froze in shock. Maddy gave a gasp and then uttered a scream of 
rage. She plunged out of the room. Phil recovered and rushed after her.

What happened next took place so fast that no one could stop it. A 
furious Maddy seized one of the steak knives from the table, then 
jerked Flair up from her place at Vic's side.

"You bitch!" shrieked Maddy. She plunged the knife into Flair's middle. 
The knife hung there, quivering while Flair gasped, her face going 
white and began to crumple. Maddy turned and sped out of the room, 
tearing off her dress. Naked but for panties, she leaped to the boat 
rail as Phil followed her and executed a dramatic dive into the water.

Phil cursed, stripped off shoes, pants and coat and went over the rail 
after her with considerable less elegance than his idol, Doug 
Fairbanks. There were several boats moored at the landing rack. He 
climbed into one and started off in hot pursuit of the swimming Maddy 
whose head was already beginning to disappear in the murk.

Silence. Phil and Maddy rested alone in a tent along the Avalon shore. 
Phil had caught Maddy, brought her out of the water but she didn't want 
to go back to the yacht. He found a friend who was glad to give up his 
tent so that Phil could settle Maddy down. They had a long talk, the 
first time he'd been able to speak to her out of Vic's shadow since 
she'd come back into his life. Some time passed.

Phil was anxious to know how badly Flair was hurt, but Maddy insisted 
that the steak knife wound was slight. "It hardly went into her at 
all." Well, Phil couldn't be both places and he was sure that Vic and 
George would do all that needed to be done to help Flair.

The rest of the time they talked about the old days, their hurts and 
small triumphs. Phil was delighted to find that she had her doubts 
about marrying the older man. As he looked at her in all her beauty, 
her face glowing in the soft, golden light of the kerosene lamp in the 
tent, he felt his cock begin to thicken. The old desire to fuck her 
luscious, creamy body was as strong as ever.

He put his face close to hers.

"Maddy, are you sure you didn't destroy that gown yourself!"

"What!"

He kissed her on the mouth, thrilling to the soft lips, the sweet 
breath. She gasped in spite of herself.

"Cut it out!" she cried. "Why would I destroy my own wedding gown?"

"Part of you doesn't want to marry Vic. You're in too deep, can't admit 
it to the world." He felt under her blanket, cupped a rich, naked 
breast, feeling the nipple respond at once, coming up hard against his 
palm.

"Non-nonsense!" she cried softly. "Don't do that. I don't want sex. I 
hate all men!"

He desisted but his hard-on persisted. After a moment, he sneaked a 
hand under the blanket, this time to cup her pelvis and touch her cunt, 
sexy in those almost-dry panties. For a second she opened her legs with 
a groan of desire, but then closed them and shoved his hand away.

"No, Phil, I won't be seduced."

He thought she would. He thought she needed the relaxation of sex, then 
sleep on the night before the big race. He felt a rising excitement. 
Here, at last, he was getting some of his own back, after dismal 
months.

The tent flap opened. Flair came in, wearing only her one-piece bathing 
suit. She stared down at them. "I didn't do it, Maddy."

"Flair!" Phil jumped up.

"No," she said, answering his anxious expression. "The knife didn't go 
in very far, Maddy. Not that it feels too great, but it only needed a 
small bandage. Daddy's madder than hell, though. He wants to kick us 
both out of the race for unsportsman-like conduct; torn dresses and 
flashing knives."

"He can't do that!" flashed Phil.

"He needs the excuse," said Flair. "There's been too much talk about a 
rigged race in favor of his daughter or his fiance. Have you fucked 
yet?"

"What?!!" said Phil.

"Of all the nerve-" Maddy began.

But Flair reached into Phil's shorts and found his rock-hard cock which 
she brought out with a murmur. "Just getting ready, I see."

And while both Phil and Maddy stared in horror, Flair bent her head and 
sucked Phil's stiff manhood into her mouth. Phil gave an immediate 
groan of pleasure. He'd been sexed up for quite a while.

"Flair! What are you doing!" cried Maddy as she suddenly sat up so that 
the blanket fell back and her naked breasts shone in the golden light. 
"You tore up my dress, now you come here and pull this vulgar . . . ."

"I didn't tear it. Texas Bunny tore it. She's always been mad at you 
for grabbing Dad," said Flair between sucks. "Anyway, I need Phil's 
prong. I need sex so I can relax and sleep, in case Daddy reinstates us 
tomorrow."

"Don't do that in front of me!" cried Maddy, jumping up. "How dare you 
do that! Phil, stop her."

"She n-n-needs sex to reduce tension!" sang the happy Phil as Flair 
sucked deliciously on his shaft. "So do y-you, as I was trying to tell 
you a minute ago!"

"You beasts!" cried Maddy.

"Come on, Maddy," said Flair. "You've been fucking the heels off my 
father for weeks - on the yacht, the train, in hotels. You know what 
sex is all about, so why resent me and Phil having a little?"

With a cry of despair, Maddy grabbed her blanket and fled the tent.

She was gone exactly twenty seconds, not quite long enough for Phil to 
enjoy a couple of hot, open-mouthed kisses, feel up Flair's gorgeous-
breasts and mount her saddle.

"Phil, are you going to f-f-fuck that odious girl!" cried Maddy.

Phil stopped. "She says she needs the relaxation and relief from 
tension. "You don't."

"So do I," said Maddy. She stripped off her panties and stretched out 
next to Flair. "And you're my trainer, not hers!"

That was the beginning of the best sex Phil ever had, in that modest 
tent under the golden light of the kerosene lamp. Never again would he 
smell that kerosene smell again without remembering those two luscious, 
naked girls, both voluptuous, both exquisitely built, both equally hot, 
both yearning for the plunge of his rock-hard cock. In size, weight and 
richness, in their supple bodies and large, firm breasts, they could've 
been sisters.

There was really no choice to make. Phil had hungered for his randy 
Maddy for too long. Quickly he mounted her hips and violated her wet, 
swollen cunt with his eager cock, crying out in delight as he targeted 
home in the hot, waxy tightness of her cunt.

"Oh, Maddy!"

"Oh, Phil!"

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," said the third voice. It was Flair, who far from 
being angry, seemed delighted to witness two other human beings in hot 
sex, a new thrill for her. She used her fingers between her legs to 
good effect as Phil and Maddy grunted and groaned, rocked and keened, 
sucked and caressed, as if they had to destroy each other's blazing, 
sex-hungry beings.

But Flair had no intention of missing out on the action. She noted as 
Phil hugged his sex partner his head extended past the head of the girl 
getting cock-reamed. She sat behind Maddy's head and opened her legs.

"As long as you're not doing anything much at this end, how about a 
little tongue?" she begged.

Phil gave a cry of delight and began to suck on Flair's cunt while he 
drummed his blade into Maddy's writhing belly. Maddy protested but 
there was nothing she could do, pinned down by Phil's weight and driven 
to glory by his big, thrusting prick. Maddy had been used to sex with 
Vic and while Vic was all right in sex, he didn't have Phil's body, 
Phil's prick girth, or Phil's youth. In no time at all she completely 
forgot about Flair as she went dizzy with the sizzling friction of 
crazed prick deep in her cunt. She humped and panted and cooed like a 
silly girl on her first wild sex trip.

Flair could hear the meaty sound of male cock digging into female 
sheath, she could see the stretched-out Maddy, alive with friction 
madness, shaking to her fabulous drilling . . . and she could enjoy 
Phil's hot, sucking mouth and tongue on her box. The stimulation of 
watching two adult bodies fuck while having her own parts taken soon 
lifted her to heights of glory. "Oh, my heavens, it's ta-tooo much!" 
she cried.

Phil had the best of it. With his long-neglected prick flexing happily 
in his Maddy's belly, he could bury his mouth in the rich wetness of 
Flair's pink cunt, find her clit and drill two women at once. Never had 
male pride risen higher than to feel the sweet distress of the two 
females as they writhed and grunted, pleasure-wracked and helpless 
under his double assault. He thrilled over and over, driving, driving, 
driving, lost to the world, living in the high exultation of mastering 
two gorgeous females at once. He went on and on.

It was Flair who gave up her sex treasure first. The lascivious orgy 
was just too much for her inexperienced soul. She felt the ineffable, 
sweet culmination rush at her. Her eyes went big, her mouth fell open, 
she grabbed Phil's head, froze and delivered her cunt throbs with rich 
cries of "Oh, oh, oh, I'm fuckedddd!"

Legs wrapped around Phil's back, cunt driven to ecstasy of feeling, 
Maddy heard Flair's desperate cries of joy and succumbed to Phil's 
ravaging prick.

"I have - to - oh, God, I have to goooo!" she sang.

Throb, throb, throb. She locked on Phil, went paralyzed and opened her 
belly in female submission, her cunt squeezing powerfully on Phil's 
shaft as she lost her womanhood to the white-hot blaze in her cunt. 
"Ahhh!"

It was the double orgasms, the feel of two hot, helpless cunts expiring 
one after the other that raised Phil to the peak of his own lust 
passion. With Flair done and panting in relief, with Maddy finished, he 
cried out his sex warrior's triumph.

"You're both fuckeddd! and I'm gone!"

His body tensed in an incredible locking of muscle, nerve and gland. 
There was a glorious, unforgettable paralysis of bliss before the 
deluge. Then his cock let go to explode inside the cunt of the girl 
he'd always wanted so badly. Spurt, spurt, spurt. Giving animal grunts 
he seeded her with massive relief and exulting shots of jism. "Yeee," 
he cried as he spent and spent in total fulfillment of his sexual 
power. As he spurted in glory, Maddy throbbed some more and he floated 
away into sublime spheres of ultimate consummation, realizing his 
manhood in mind, body and soul.

When Phil woke up the next morning the girls were gone. So, he 
discovered, when he emerged from the tent, were all the contestants! 
The beach was bare of everything but tourists.

"Oh, they moved the start of the race up to the Isthmus," a man told 
him. "Old Singleton knows it's only eighteen miles across at that 
point, so everybody has a better chance."

Phil arrived at the Isthmus boat-hitchiking, minutes before the start 
of the race. The scene was chaos with the final hundred or so swimmers 
standing just short of the water, waiting for the starting gun. 
Spectators on shore and on boats leaned forward anxiously.

The starting gun sounded and a hundred or so eager marathoners dived, 
ran, splashed or walked into the water. Among the number were some 
world-famous, highly trained swimmers. These few immediately stroked 
ahead of the field and disappeared. Even as the roar from the crowd and 
the blasting boat horns began to fade it was easy to see that the vast 
horde were only there for the fun. The sun was out, but the water close 
to shore was fifty-five degrees and only sixty-four in the middle of 
the San Pedro channel.

There were plenty of volunteer boats to pace the swimmers as well as 
the boats of the judges. Vic didn't want anybody to drown in his 
extravaganza.

Phil found Vic at the starter's booth.

"What about the girls?" he asked.

"I'm letting 'em swim, but they have a handicap. They have to wait for 
an hour after the start to go in the water."

That was fatal. With strong male champions out there, the girls could 
never catch up.

"You prick!" said Phil.

Vic put his head close to Phil. "No, you're the prick! You fucked my 
girl last night. I'm through with you, always screwing my women. You're 
fired, Griffin!"

Later Phil paced Maddy in the water, ready with hot broth and 
encouragement as he followed in a boat. He didn't blame her for trying. 
To train and then not to swim would be too much. She gave up after four 
hours, because the leaders were too far ahead and her heart wasn't in 
it.

A while later they saw Flair picked up by her handler's boat. She waved 
to them, they waved back. Phil, saw the look on Maddy's face and 
understood then that she felt guilty about knifing Flair and ending 
Flair's chances. Maddy wouldn't have swum her best anyway.

Phil asked her about the situation with Vic after last night.

She said she didn't know. Vic still wanted her; she wasn't sure.

She wanted to take a month and think it over.

"I'll visit my folks in San Diego. I want to get away from everybody, 
Phil, including you."

Phil was suddenly sick of the whole thing, and of Vic, Flair, Texas, 
George and even Maddy. He was angry that Vic had shortened the swim. In 
sum he'd wasted better than two years and gummed himself up with too 
much sex at the wrong time as usual. What he needed most of all was a 
new career start. Once he reached land he was through with this crowd. 
Even if Vic hadn't fired him, he'd have quit.

The winner of the race was a penniless Canadian teenager, George Young, 
who confounded everyone by beating several world champions. He 
collected the twenty-five thousand, lots of publicity, and some stage 
appearances, the hero of the hour. A poor, widow mother back home added 
to the magnificence of his triumph. His time was fifteen hours and 
forty-five minutes, a beautiful swim for the record books.



Chapter 8


New York, the Hippodrome Theatre, 1935. Billy rose, the pint-sized 
showman with the personality, energy and charm of a six footer, was in 
a pet.

"We got to open Jumbo in two weeks!" he cried to his staff. "Now you 
tell me my best comic diver has a sprained back and can't work for a 
month! So what do we put in that big tank under the stage?"

"We're trying to get a replacement, Mr. Rose," an assistant placated 
him.

"Wait a minute," said Rose. "That sleazy guy who got me the Austin 
Sisters. What was his name? George, yes, George Panther. Find him. I 
remember he mumbled about some mug he knew who was doing a water show 
over at the college in Princeton. Find Panther for me."

While a member of the staff hastened to the card file, Billy Rose 
ruminated aloud. "Funny thing about Broadway. A spiffy guy in a high 
hat and spats sells me an act and it turns out to be a mangy dog show. 
On the other hand a guy who looks like he slides around corners and 
steals leavings at the Automat hands me an act that sings with class. 
Who can figure it?"

The staff remembered the cheap-looking agent who camped on Billy's tail 
with trying to promote a singing trio, the Austin Sisters. When Billy 
finally gave the guy a tumble and saw the act, it was classy enough to 
win a big spot in Jumbo. Everybody loved the Austin Sisters and so 
would the audience.

"Oh, yeah," said George when Billy got him on the phone. "I know this 
guy, he puts on water shows at colleges across the country. Raises 
money for swim sports. He's a real pro. Better in the water than on dry 
land."

"But can he dive forty feet into that tank on the stage of the 
Hippodrome and make it look funny?"

"If the price is right," said George, "he can scare 'em white and then 
make 'em red-faced with laughter."

"Get him," ordered Rose. "What's his name?"

"Phil Griffin."

"We'll look at him this afternoon at three," said Billy and hung up.

George hadn't seen Phil for eight years. He got a letter once in a 
while and cards at Christmas, but that was about it. When Phil came to 
his hotel room, George was glad to note that he looked as sleek and 
young as ever, though he was in his mid-thirties. He told Phil about 
Billy Rose, after they'd exchanged the shy greetings that were 
inevitable after a large gap in time.

"This Billy Rose is some kind of a genius," said George. "Started out 
as a hot shot shorthand and typing whiz, giving demonstrations for the 
companies. Set world records that way. During the war he was secretary 
to Bernard Baruch and other big shots in Washington, and then in the 
twenties he became a tin pan alley songwriter. He ran up a couple of 
big hits and went into the night club business."

"Oh, yes," said Phil, settling down with the bottle of beer George had 
offered. It still seemed strange to be able to drink right out in the 
open. "Isn't he the guy that's married to Fanny Brice, the comedienne?"

"Right, only don't push that at him. It burns him up that people call 
him Mr. Fanny Brice. So he's decided to make a big splash on Broadway 
at the Hippodrome with this show Jumbo. Make his name. It's got 
everything. A book by Hecht and MacArthur, songs by Rodgers and Hart, 
Paul Whiteman's orchestra, and everything class. Jock Whitney and his 
sisters are bankrolling it. It's a combination musical comedy and 
circus, with elephants and Jimmy Durante as star."

Phil looked around George's cheap room and wondered whether even after 
eight years he could trust George Panther again. He'd never forget 
Atlantic City and Catalina.

"Sounds pretty big."

"It's fantastic, Phil! His idea is that he's got the big three 
ingredients that pull people into the theatre; love, comedy, and death. 
Death-defying circus stunts, you know. For the comedy they've got 
clowns and stuff but for the big tank onstage he wants a comic diving 
act. Listen, I can get you two hundred a week if you'll let me be your 
agent. Rose wants to beat the "Mr. Brice" tag, so he pays big."

Phil sighed. The whole thing sounded unrealistic. But he'd finished his 
stint at Princeton and made the trip all the way over. Two hundred a 
week in these depression times sounded incredible, though.

"Maybe I could audition," Phil said. "Are you sure about the money?"

"Whitney's loaded," said George. "Come on. We're meeting Rose at 
three."

Just like that . . . after eight years. A phone call, a trip across the 
river, and here he was mixed up with George Panther once again. 

Phil stood on the stage of the Hippodrome, looked at the tank that was 
revealed when the stage floor was retracted, looked up at the ladder 
and platform forty feet above. George sat nervously on the stage apron.

Billy Rose, his directors and some assistants sat out in the audience.

"Give us two or three jumps, if you will," Billy cried.

To everyone's astonishment, Phil removed his clothes. But as always he 
had a bathing suit on instead of shorts. He hadn't changed that habit 
in years. Then he bounced up the ladder, did a very quick half gainer, 
making it sloppy to look funny. Once again he felt the thrill of the 
leap and the rush of wind past his ears as he plummeted down. But he'd 
done this sort of thing so long that his body responded automatically. 
He emerged and did two more jumps without a pause.

The group in the audience applauded.

"We'll hire you, Mr. Griffin," said Rose. "You're very good."

One of his assistants murmured that the diver wanted the fierce sum of 
two hundred a week.

Billy Rose grinned. "You couldn't get me to do those jumps for a 
thousand a week. Hire him. He's a class act."

Phil met the Austin Sisters at the rehearsal next day. They were 
gorgeous looking in long, white clinging gowns and they sang in 
beautiful harmony. Afterwards George took Phil over to them, and Phil 
noticed as they approached that there was a platinum blonde, a golden 
blonde and a brunette.

"My God!" he cried. "Texas . . . Maddy . . . Flair!"

The three women were as startled as Phil. Although Texas was past 
thirty-five she looked as slim and sexy as ever. Maddy and Flair in 
their late twenties were at the peak of their beauty.

"Phil . . . Oh, Phil . . . Hi, Phil . . . ."

The three were as shy as he was. Long years had passed since they had 
last met. In the confusion and bustle of the rehearsal there was no 
time to talk but there were murmurs about getting together later.

However, it was George alone who brought Phil up to date later in 
Phil's hotel room. Phil had taken a place in the same hotel because it 
was inexpensive and there was no reason to waste money on luxurious 
quarters. This way he could save a lot from his salary. George told 
Phil that the girls worked well together, that they were his best act 
and got a lot of appearances on radio and with big bands. They even had 
some records out that sold well. No, Maddy had never married Vic. Vic 
Singleton owned some radio stations out West, and the Austin Sisters 
always had free time on the air when they were out there. Vic had never 
married either. Then he wanted to know about Phil.

Phil's story was simple. Water shows had been popular ever since 
Cleopatra floated down the Nile with nothing on her luscious body but 
an asp clasped to her wrist. Phil moved across the country to various 
colleges and universities putting on shows with the local students to 
raise money, sometimes for sports programs, sometimes for the schools 
themselves. He had a small company and didn't make much money, but it 
kept him active in the water world that he liked. He too had never 
married.

"And I take it easy on sex, George. I don't get myself in tangles the 
way I used to."

"Wish I could get into tangles. My three beautiful broads drive me 
crazy, but they won't put out."

Phil found that the old ache was there, the desire for Maddy, and, to 
his surprise for the bold Flair, almost as strongly. But when he 
approached Maddy for dates, she turned him down.

"We could've been great, Phil. But you're too wild, like the time in 
the tent with Flair. You'll bed any woman when your lust is up."

Nor could he get anything going with Flair. She said she'd given up 
"the wild ways of her youth" as if she were somehow old and gray!

Still, just being in Jumbo was lots of fun. The show opened with 
fanfares and Paul Whiteman appeared on a white stallion followed by his 
band, resplendent in blue and gold uniforms, music crashing. Then came 
a fantastic circus parade, complete with clowns, wild animals and the 
title figure of the show, the elephant Jumbo, with the human star, 
Jimmy Durante.

A cannon boomed. A young girl shot from its mouth. There was no net to 
catch her. As the audience gasped, her partner, from the sidelines, 
jumped forward to make the catch and save her life. A woman performer 
slid from the top balcony three hundred feet to the stage on a taut 
wire, hanging by her teeth. Another daredevil group did aerial stunts 
on a tiny plane that zipped around a recessed dome, high up.

In another set, a high wire artist did somersaults on a wire, as the 
spotlight gradually revealed that he worked above a cageful of snarling 
jungle cats. At the end he swung down into the cage . . . then ran to a 
safety door among the animals while the crowd screamed.

Besides the thrills there was music, including the Austin Sisters, 
comedy, including Phil's act and spectacles with Rose's specialty, 
fabulous showgirls. In a wedding scene forty beauties in white satin 
rode forty white horses, also arrayed in white. They were escorted by 
forty muscular boys in black tights riding black horses. A "bride and 
groom" descended from the ceiling amidst fluttering petals and 
surrounded by white doves.

Phil found that it was almost as much fun to watch the audience's 
reactions to the thrills, comedy and beauty spectacles as it was to be 
in the show.

The show opened, the crowds came, the cast settled down, and Phil 
judged that Billy Rose would no longer be thought of as "Mr. Fanny 
Brice."

After midnight is the true evening for show business people. The 
excitement of the performance must be overcome before sleep can be 
enticed. One post-midnight evening Phil sat in his room planning new 
water show engagements after Jumbo was finished. There was a shy knock 
on his door.

He opened it to find Texas Bunny Long before him. She was alone except 
for a bottle of champagne she carried in her arms.

"Oh, Texas." He admitted her.

"I hope you don't mind, Phil. I have a career decision to make and I 
need somebody with an objective mind to talk to."

He felt immediate excitement. Her face had a serious, businesslike 
look, but her dress suggested other things. A tight-fitting black rayon 
outfit clung to her body. And the champagne in her arms hinted at 
perhaps some pleasure.

His lust rose at once. Whenever he saw Texas his cock thickened as he 
imagined fucking that loose flesh, soft and silky, off her bones. As 
they set the champagne in ice he caught a flash of her rounded, sexy 
ass and wondered if she still . . . .

"I have offers to leave the act and go single as a singer with a band," 
she said. She went on to explain that she was a better singer than 
either Flair or Maddy and she felt she'd devoted enough time to the 
sister act.

She explained that the "Austin Sisters" took their name from the Texas 
city, but she was ready to go back to being Texas Bunny once more.

Phil had already made his decision. He seized her and hugged her, 
digging his hands into the yielding flesh of her remarkable rear. He 
kissed her and felt his prick thick and hard against their bellies.

"Why don't we . . . have some fun . . . relax . . . before we talk 
about careers," he breathed in her pink ear.

Her loins thrust against his, undulating, thrilling his stiff cock. The 
soft brown eyes were hungry. "A good idea," she whispered in her gentle 
voice. In seconds his tongue was halfway down her throat reveling in 
the sweet honey hotness and he kneaded those glorious buttocks as he 
jacked off between their bellies.

There was a knock on the door. They broke apart, gasping.

"Flair, maybe Maddy," she cried softly. "Don't want 'em to catch me 
here."

Before he could react, she'd grabbed her champagne bottle and dashed 
into his closet.

It was not Flair or Maddy at his door. It was George Panther with a 
champagne bottle in his arms and a sad look on his face.

"Phil, I've got to talk to you. Serious problems. I happened to have 
this bottle. Can we talk?"

Phil was about to cut him off, but George really looked sad, and didn't 
even notice the tent in Phil's pants, his sex blush nor the ice bucket 
for Bunny's champagne. Besides, Phil had all night. Nonchalantly he 
tossed George's bottle into the bucket, sprawled on his bed and said, 
"Okay, shoot."

George complained that he feared the Austin Sisters were going to break 
up after Jumbo. Maddy and Flair were mad at Texas Bunny. She never 
tried new things. They thought they could be better off as a duo.

Delighted to know that Texas heard all this from his closet, Phil 
pointed out that George might double his income as agent for Texas as a 
single and the two girls as a team. George gloomed that more likely 
they'd all drop him for new agents.

"They're gonna desert me!" cried George. "Here I've built 'em big and 
never even got any sex from them, except once a little bit. They hate 
me."

It was a night when Phil felt high and reckless. He suggested that 
maybe George just never found out what kind of sex the girls liked. 
What did George think of Texas Bunny?

"That one I'd like to diddle most of all!" cried George. "She has the 
sexiest ass that ever walked down Broadway."

"So why don't you suggest anal intercourse."

"Cornholing?" George's eyes got big. "She'd kill me! How could I 
suggest such a perverted thing to a classy girl like that?"

He went on rhapsodizing about Texas, her charms and her sexy rear. 
Delighted, Phil kept his eye on the closet where the door was ajar. 
Slowly, slowly it opened wider and wider as George talked. Finally 
Texas stepped out into the room, holding her bottle of champagne. 
Otherwise she was totally naked.

"Well, now," she said in her soft voice, "maybe you haven't asked the 
right questions, George, as Phil suggested."

George froze in horror. Phil laughed and said that maybe it was time 
for them to put the two champagne bottles together.

It was, thought Phil, going to be very tricky but also very rewarding. 
When he and George had stripped, Phil got on his back on the bed. At 
his direction, Bunny mounted his hips. He spread his legs really wide 
and offered his stiff jong to the girl. Tongue curling, eyes glowing 
the brown-eyed blonde slowly impaled herself on his blade, both of them 
gasping as he violated her wet, ready cunt.

"Now then, George," laughed Phil. "When we get going take hold of her 
hips, find her second hole and live a little!"

George was beside himself with excitement, his smaller cock as hard as 
Phil's.

"Holy Magruder, this is the banner night in my life!" he cried.

Phil recalled that he'd been sucked by Texas Bunny, that he'd buggered 
her luscious back hole but that he'd never plundered her pink little 
cunt. So why not let George have the back seat on this ride?

"Oh, Phil!" thrilled Bunny, oozing down on his shaft.

"Ah, God, a cunt like a kid's," he mooned, thrusting up to take her 
entire vagina. Because of the size of his prick and the tightness of 
her small cunt, the friction was delicious. Once again, he felt that 
extra pleasure of that flesh, a little loose on her bones. She was just 
as sexy as eight years ago. He pumped for glory.

"Ahhhh, heaven!" cried Bunny, matching his thrust with hers. They 
literally flew into a hot fuck.

"Hey, wait for me!" yipped George, trying to control the leaping loins 
as they flexed.

They laughed and stopped the action so George could come aboard. George 
found plenty of juices in Bunny's crotch to oil his blade. Then with 
trembling fingers he parted her rich buttocks and found her ass pucker 
a couple of inches above her cunt, well filled with Phil's cock, 
already gleaming with musky cunt oils. The three made some shifts until 
George had his prick placed at a good angle for Bunny's asshole. "Now," 
he muttered and shoved.

The mingled pain and pleasure made Bunny yowl and tighten her buttocks 
as the second prick violated her sphincter and eased inside of her 
intestine.

"Bless the Greek gods, I don't think I can stand this!" she sang 
happily as her second hole filled. She had trained her asshole well 
enough so as to permit rear entry, but she'd never had a double filling 
like this. The exquisite pressure on her cunt was matched with even 
more fabulous pressure on her tender, slick gut membranes.

"Uh, uh, uh," she went as George inched his cock deep into her loin 
mass. The partition that separated her cunt channel from her rear was 
stretched gossamer thin between the invading blades. Phil fucked, 
George moved and Bunny screamed, "Don't move! I'll die! Oh!"

Yet as the men shifted and her sphincter sullenly retracted she began 
to feel incredible, hot flames consume her belly and her ass.

"Ah, oh, I'm so fucked!" she blatted happily. The two pricks had a 
seesaw lock on her parts now as both Phil and George began to move in 
and out to service her holes. She quivered, sang and moaned her 
ecstatic joy. The two men moaned in satisfaction as they felt the 
silken, hot and maddening friction and listened to her gasps and felt 
her little body jerks as if she feared being torn open.

"Oh, this is crazy, good, feels divine!" she cried. It was okay now. 
She could even move herself, though carefully, and take cock plunges 
from both men. "Hooooo," she sang in deep gut violation pleasure.

Vaguely she was aware of Phil reaming her mouth with his tongue, 
sucking off kisses and stroking and setting her nipples on fire as he 
fucked her. George licked and caressed her satiny back, murmuring. But 
mostly she felt unbelievable, deep fire from her navel to her knees as 
the two hungry male cocks devoured her holes. The sensation was so 
fabulous that she lost all control of herself and bucked and rocked at 
the will of the men, crazed to a purple glory of front and rear fuck-
friction. It was too good to last long, yet a century of joy.

"Haaaayeeee," she went and felt the fury of her orgasm rush at her, 
then screamed and came, cunt throbbing, sphincter servicing George's 
prick, cunt locked and squeezing on Phil's. Throb, throb, throb. She 
gave up her womanhood in searing yet furious pleasure. A double fuck 
like this could just not last long.

The throbbing sphincter broke George's jism seal. Too long he'd 
hungered to shove his prick into Bunny's body. He gave a happy grunt 
and spurted leaping seed deep, deep up into Bunny's ass as she still 
throbbed in joy.

Phil now felt a double orgasm. There was Bunny's cunt clipping on his 
pleasure-crazed shaft and through the membrane he vaguely felt George's 
cock pump jism streams into the girl's gut. Phil's cock had great 
endurance, but this was just too much.

"Oh, boys and girls!" he cried. Spurt, spurt, spurt. Deep belly streams 
of sperm shot up his shaft into Bunny's taken belly as he spent out his 
manhood in fantastic relief and singing joy.

There was a knock on the door which they were all too busy to answer. 
Then it flung open and Maddy Metcalf entered, champagne bottle in her 
hand.

"Phil, I was just thinking . . . ." Then she saw the lewd display on 
the bed and screamed and Phil knew he'd ruined things one more time.



Chapter 9


Billy Rose introduced the first aquacade to the American public at the 
Cleveland Fair in 1937. Nothing quite like it had ever been seen 
before. The moon, the stars and the sky served as an overhead setting 
for his ten thousand seat amphitheatre, with the waters of Lake Erie as 
a stage, or part of the stage.

A water curtain of dancing fumes, colored by lights served as a 
curtain. When it was turned off the audience saw a long line of 
performers clad in white, skin-tight bathing suits, well over a hundred 
of them. Slowly they peeled off into the water in majestic domino 
fashion.

Early in the show Eleanor Holm appeared in high heels, wearing a 
sequined swimming suit and royal cape to match. In seconds she was in 
the ice cold water showing her world famous backstroke, spurred in her 
efforts as the cast knew, but the public didn't, by little schools of 
minnows that sometimes got stuck in her suit. Not that the beautiful 
swimmer, later to become Mrs. Billy Rose, needed extra help in speed 
swimming. She was a 1932 Olympic champion. Johnny Weissmuller, an 
Olympic swimming champion of earlier years, made the hearts of the 
women in the audience beat faster before he went on to a second career 
as the film hero, Tarzan.

Serious and comic diving and figure swimming by specialty acts and a 
chorus of champion swimmers held the audience spellbound. Barges 
manipulated an actual stage more than three hundred feet wide and about 
sixty feet deep when it was necessary to cover the pool for music and 
dancing. Best of all, the prices for seats in this spectacular ranged 
from forty cents to ninety nine cents. Billy Rose had mastered the 
technique of serving brilliant spectacles to the masses at prices they 
could afford in depression times. From Jumbo in 1935, he'd gone to the 
fabulous Casa Manana show at Ft. Worth in the Texas Centennial Fair in 
1936 which won him the Cleveland assignment and opened the door to 
still greater triumphs to come. The Cleveland show was both a milestone 
and an unforgettable innovation in the history of show business.

The Austin Sisters barely made the cast by virtue of the fact they were 
both beautiful and could swim elegantly. Without Texas Bunny, their 
singing was strictly of the show business average variety.

Phil came in off the road to try out for the big extravaganza, and 
looked up both Maddy and Flair. The two young women gave him the 
distinct cold shoulder, so he left Cleveland without even an audition.

After the show, George and the two girls headed for Buffalo where 
Flair's father, Vic, had recently bought a radio station. The West had 
not agreed with the New Jersey ex-bootlegger. "Not enough people," he 
groused. "Not enough audience for a real radio station." His goal was 
to buy into the New York market, but so far Buffalo was as close as he 
could get. While the girls rested in Vic's Buffalo home, George went to 
see his old friend.

"You can forget the Austin Sisters," said Vic. "They ain't going 
anywhere. Not without Bunny."

"She hasn't exactly burned up the majors either," said George. "Neither 
has Phil Griffin. We're all just treading water, you ask me."

"Forget Griffin," said Vic. "What those girls need is marriage, good 
husbands. Maddy's thirty-two, for Christ's sake, and Flair's thirty-
one."

"They still look like eighteen," said George.

"Still young and hot," nodded Vic. "That's why I told Flair and Maddy 
they had to get married while they've still got it. We need to get 
married, too. This show business is a killer."

George's eyes gleamed. "What did you have in mind, Vic?"

"Flair for you and Maddy for me," said Vic. "We can pop up to Niagara 
Falls and tie the knot, as Winchell says."

"Holy Christ!"

"Listen, we need sexy young wives and those two kids are spinning their 
paddles. So let's get the act together. I told the two of 'em 
yesterday. We should've done it ten years ago, like I was going to 
marry Maddy at Catalina."

George glowed all over. "They'd never hold still for it, but . . . ."

"Sure they will. A woman gets sick of all the one-night stands, cheap 
hotel rooms and loneliness. Not to mention smart aleck young guys. They 
need mature men with a few bucks in the bank. Like you and me." 

Maddy came awake feeling a hot mouth covering hers. As she sleepily 
kissed back, dreaming it was Phil, a wet tongue snaked into her mouth. 
Her nipples were caressed, starting fires, and she felt warmth, smooth, 
moist skin.

Then she came awake to find Flair nibbling along her jaw. Flair was 
naked and had pulled open the robe Maddy slept in.

"Oh, cut it out, Flair," said Maddy. "We've done that too often in too 
many hotel rooms."

"Better than nothing." A pink tongue teased, thrilled her ear.

"Not much."

She put her hands on the sweet slope of Flair's back and caressed down 
the flesh, her fingers pleased by the muscles and the yielding 
softness.

She knew she'd get aroused. She and Flair would have each other. They'd 
each feel loved and sexual tension would be relieved. Yet as she 
dreamily stared at the sunshine coming through the window she realized 
this was the first time in a year they'd slept in a real house. At 
home, even if it was just Vic and a couple of servants. As Vic said 
yesterday when he brought up marriage, the road was a killer. There 
were night club patrons that wanted to toss you for a one-night stand. 
Besides that there were only musicians, who had their booze and their 
reefers and who were always broke. You died wanting guys. So it was 
only natural, even if perverted, to crawl in bed with your best buddy, 
even if she were female, and hold somebody who cared and have somebody 
who cared hold you. Once in a while, not too often, she and Flair 
slipped into pussy love.

Almost absently she bucked her loins as Flair dug fingers into her cunt 
and made her hot oils run. Flair's belly kisses skittered some 
excitement across her flesh, but really now.

"I've got something new," murmured Flair.

"You've always got something new," said Maddy. "Single dildoes, double 
dildoes. Fingers poking rear holes, cunt balls, feathers, candles."

"This is different."

"Bring me something called "cock" with a real, loving man attached, 
Flair."

"You want to marry my father, again?" murmured Flair.

"He's terrific," said Maddy with a rush of deep feeling. "But I guess 
you couldn't stand George."

"Sure I could stand George," said Flair. "Why not? He fucked me once on 
a train, and it wasn't too bad. He loves me - us. He'd go crazy being 
faithful and he has a few bucks, too. Don't let those sleazy looks fool 
you."

Maddy could believe Flair. Flair never reacted like other people. She 
could probably marry George and be happy. And she? With Vic? Why not?

"You've still got it for Phil," said Flair.

Maddy frowned. She began to buck her belly real fast. "Do me! Do me!"

Flair laughed and began to suck her cunt. Maddy lifted up and groaned 
in pleasure, going hot and wet. Flair caressed her big breasts and 
Maddy got hotter. She was into it now, wanting the breathtaking surge 
of orgasm. Then Flair eased up and straddled her head so she could eat 
Flair's cunt. As Maddy dug her tongue, her mouth into the soft, wet 
chamber she thought of Phil, his strong body, his big, powerful prick-
stick, loaded with liquid flames. Oh, Phil, Phil, she thought gobbling 
Flair's clit, making the big blonde moan. Flair meanwhile kneaded her 
own breasts with the swollen nipples and rose to peak.

They were both close to orgasm now. Maddy knew Flair's next move was to 
lie back down on Maddy's body while they stroked pelvises and cunts to 
glory, hugging.

Flair rose. "Here comes the new thrill," she warned. "Ready?"

"Whatever it is," said Maddy.

Flair spread her legs, her crotch over Maddy's high breasts. The stream 
of piss started slowly and then began to gush, golden liquid spraying 
on Maddy's tits, her cleavage.

Flair thrilled to ecstasy to release her urine stream on Maddy's lovely 
body. She could see, and hear, the bubbling stuff strike the silken 
flesh, spread, body-warm, on Maddy.

"Oh, my God!" Maddy's eyes went big, her whole being frozen in shock.

"T-told you it was new!" cried Flair.

Squatting she slowly worked down Maddy's body, decorating her with the 
streaming girl piss, feeling the thrill of her emptying bladder, 
letting everything go against all the wise rules of mankind. Down over 
the belly, the abdomen.

"Almost there!" gasped Flair, wild-eyed. The act of pissing just about 
made her come. Maddy's body was a blanket of urine now, golden and 
shiny. "Ahhhhh!"

The last squirts shot onto Maddy's dark pubic hair and cascaded down 
over her oil-wet cunt. Flair was empty. She stared down at Maddy with 
hotly gleaming eyes.

At first the body-hot stuff shocked Maddy to stillness. She felt the 
sting of the piss, smelled the smell. Suddenly she wanted the whole 
humiliating experience, to feel Flair's bladder completely emptied on 
her nudity. She gasped as if she'd dived into a pool. It was the 
ultimate outrage.

Flair gave a cry of delight, fell on top of Maddy's body and hugged 
her, the pee serving as a hot stimulant between their bodies. Flair's 
cunt rocked on Maddy's. Maddy surged up, crazed with the freak sex act 
for the moment. The girls clung together, wallowing in Flair's piss, 
rising in perverted ecstasy to orgasm. Then they both broke.

"Ahhhhh." Throb, throb, throb, went Flair.

Maddy's cunt expired with ecstatic squeezes as she reveled in the tight 
body lock and the unspeakable fluid that sealed them together. She 
worked off her spasms crying animal grunts. Then everything faded into 
the sweet afterglow of sex.

Then Flair rolled off of her and laid back, her face shocked, her big 
luscious body smeared with her own piss.

"Jesus, what have I done?" wailed Flair.

Maddy got up slowly, inevitably. "Ruined your father's bedclothes and 
maybe a mattress," she said. "Also you've reached the limit, Flair. 
Ended it, once and forever. We won't have sex again. The next stop 
would be the nuthouse."

She walked to the door, heading for the bathroom, her body smeared with 
urine, her thighs still wet with oil and more of Flair's piss.

"I'm going to marry your father," she said. "You'll marry George."

Lying there Flair knew Maddy was right. There was a point when wildness 
with sex got dangerous. Her flaunting of taboos was over. 

A week later the two couples were married in a double ceremony, Flair 
to George, Maddy to Vic Singleton, thus completing a courtship that had 
begun over ten years ago. George was in seventh heaven; the girls 
mellow. When Maddy asked Flair who had torn up her wedding gown at 
Catalina, Flair confessed that she had, and everybody laughed. So much 
for ancient, knife-wielding passions!

There was no question about where to go for a honeymoon, or two of 
them. Niagara Falls was only twenty miles away. The two couples spent 
the afternoon ogling the majestic vistas of the two great falls, the 
American side with its famous separate Bridal Veil Falls and the much 
wider Canadian Horseshoe Falls. The guide told them the American side 
was 167 feet high and about 1,000 feet wide, while the bigger Canadian 
Horseshoe was 158 feet high and 2600 feet wide. He added that several 
people had actually gone over the falls in barrels and survived, while 
some had not.

"Right now there's another nut planning to go over. He wants to swim 
the rapids above, reach his barrel on Goat Island, between the two 
falls and then go over. Naturally the authorities will try to stop him, 
but if a man wants to commit suicide, it's pretty hard to prevent it. 
The guy may make it; he's some professional swimmer named Phil 
Griffin."

The two couples looked at each other. "Holy mud!" cried Maddy. "We 
ought to stop him!"

"I say let him go," grunted Vic. "At least he won't be screwing some 
poor guy's newlywed wife, making sex trouble for a change."

But they weren't going to be able to evade their old friend. He was in 
the dining room that night as they enjoyed a luxurious wedding feast 
and he came over to wish the couples well.

"I heard all about it on your radio station," he told Vic. "Lots of 
luck in your marriage."

A suspicious Vic grunted his thanks and offered a limp hand. Maddy 
thought she saw exquisite pain in the back of Phil's eyes. They 
discussed his crazy mission, trying to dissuade him, but he pointed out 
that he needed the publicity to get his water shows started again. He 
invited them to see him shove off. He planned to take off under cover 
of darkness, reach his barrel on the island and do this stunt in the 
morning. He had his own photographer hidden out, and this way he could 
evade the authorities.

Vic declined the invitation to see him off. "We have other business 
tonight," he said dryly with a possessive glance at his bride.

Phil saluted them and was gone, Maddy's eyes following him, looking 
worried.

Nine o'clock. The moment of glory for George Panther as he and the new 
Mrs. Flair Panther retired to their bedroom. She had a gorgeous black 
lace wedding nightie to set off her tanned good looks. George looked 
forward to a wild night of sex that would be the finest hour of his 
passion life. He was eons away from Atlantic City and his bit whores of 
1926!

But Flair talked to her father on the phone and then excused herself, 
giving George a peck on the cheek.

"I've got to talk to Daddy for a moment. I'll be right back. I won't be 
gone more than five minutes." And she darted out of the room with her 
nightie absently clutched in her hand. George wasn't sure why that made 
him nervous.

"She's gone!" Vic exploded when his daughter reached his room.

"Gone where!"

He flung a note at her. "To save that young bastard's life."

Flair gasped. "We've got to catch them." She ran to the window and 
looked out at the wild expanse of trees and river, hearing the roar of 
the falls.

"I won't chase her!" said Vic. "I'm the husband. She has to come to me, 
want me."

"Daddy."

"No. If that little bitch wants to spend her wedding night with some 
young idiot on a boat on the Niagara River, so be it. I'll settle her 
later!"

Flair grinned, locked the door and spread out her nightie.

"I thought it was strange that you'd marry Maddy after all these years 
and that she'd go along." Flair started to undress while Vic looked at 
her with a horrified expression.

"You know who you really wanted to marry, at least sleep with," she 
teased him. She was out of her dress, taking off her bra.

"Flair, stop! I'm your father. What do you mean!"

She went on coolly. "I mean married to young Maddy no one would suspect 
you of fooling around elsewhere."

"Flair, I command you?"

"And Maddy could never trust Phil as a wage earner. So it works out 
perfectly. We each get the lover we want, plus security." Her slip was 
gone, her panties came down. There was only her sleek hose held up by 
garters and her high heels.

"Scandalous girl!" he cried. "I forbid this!"

"You want it!" she whispered, coming to him. "I want it. You always 
have, I have always." She took out his cock which was stiff as a board 
from watching his sexy daughter undress.

He moaned as she began to jack him off with warm hands.

"We can't . . . do this," he muttered. "Incest!"

"Say it and get it over with," she laughed, thrilling to the movement 
of soft flesh over hard love muscle. His cock throbbed in joy.

Vic was beside himself. A thousand times since Flair had grown up he'd 
lusted for her smooth, tanned body, the big, bountiful breasts, and the 
hot, wayward little cunt between her legs. Yet he was shocked to the 
core to think of sex with his own daughter. His belly was on fire with 
pleasure, his blade loaded to the brim to explode. As he stared at her 
in horror at this perverted sex, the excitement, the magnificent 
outrage, the utter sexiness of it, he knew he could not hold back. All 
day long he'd been unconsciously thinking of hot sex with Maddy. To 
have it with Flair was so carnal and vulgar that he could not hold back 
the rush of semen."

"Oh, Flair!" he cried.

His cock burst, shooting out high strings of jism through her fist, 
while he trembled in ecstasy and relief. Spurt, spurt, spurt. It was 
copious and extraordinarily powerful for an older man's ejaculation. 
Flair looked down in surprise as he shot off three gorgeous flings, 
then she quickly knelt, capped his geyser and milked the rest of his 
Daddy-seed out of his prick.

"Mmmmmmm."

"Oh, God!" he moaned in exquisite joy, looking down to see the 
daughter-mouth harvest his spuming manhood. He held her head and gushed 
it all out with tender gasps, until he was empty. Then he staggered 
back.

"There!" he said in triumph. "You see I can't make it with you."

But Flair only grinned. She licked his spent, warm sperm off her hand 
and then turned to her sexy, see-through nightie.

"That was only your last defense," she said. "Premature coming. But we 
have all night to do it right. Come to bed."

The nightie, black and enticing over her smooth, young flesh contained 
her charms enticingly. If anything she was sexier than before.

"What . . . what about your husband, George?" he asked.

"There'll be plenty of nights for George," she said. "He's waited a 
long time. He's younger than you. He can wait. This is what I really 
want on my wedding night!"

It was what he wanted too, Vic knew, though he'd denied it for years. 
He got into bed naked, with his daughter in that sexy nightie. He put 
the idea of incest from his mind. This was a young person, a body, he 
wanted to fuck, fuck, fuck!

Now that Maddy had deserted him, now that he was converted to the idea, 
he decided it was best to make the most of it. It was a little strange 
to be fucking his own daughter on his wedding night, but then the whole 
human race was strange.

At first he used fingers to relieve her of her own tension, 
masturbating her until she gurgled, locked her thighs and gave up 
gentle throbs of orgasm. Then he began to kiss and play with her body 
in that sexy black netting, reveling in the feel of seductive cloth 
over warm, satiny flesh. His cock began to get hard but his jism 
reservoir was not yet filled.

Slowly, easily he got acquainted with her body, feeling then kissing 
those big tits, then peeling back the cloth to gobble the hard naked 
nipples in delight.

"Oh, Daddy," she whispered in ecstasy.

He kissed her belly, her cunt, her thighs, He turned her over and 
kissed her back, her smooth, rounded buttocks and back thighs. He 
placed her back in the first position, took off her nightie and spread 
her legs to suck lusciously on her full-flowing cunt. Flair was so hot 
she writhed in happy agony.

"Oh, oh, oh. Suck me, take me," she whined.

She couldn't last long. After all those years of wanting and waiting 
she was a firestorm of passion. In no time at all she surged up, froze 
and paid off her sex treasure to his cunnilingus.

"Ahhhhh. Now!" she yipped and throbbed over her relief and sweet joy.

Her recovery was quick. Each orgasm only lifted a woman to higher 
erotic planes. Now they were ready for the master fuck, because Vic's 
cock was fully restored.

First Vic mounted her with his knees under her armpits. He lifted her 
head and shoved his stiff cock into her mouth. He looked down on her 
beautiful face and saw his jong fuck in and out of her mouth while, 
big-eyed and happy, she sucked and licked gently. Then he moved down to 
her breasts, his cock gleaming with her syrup. He laid the reddened, 
alive blade between her breasts, made a tunnel of her breast meat and 
rocked in pleasure.

"Oh, baby, you do have tits."

"Ohhhh, my nipples," she moaned.

The friction was exquisite but Vic rationed that pleasure. At last he 
arrived at her cunt, spreading her legs. He fitted the smooth cockhead 
to her pink opening. Father stared down at daughter. She looked back up 
at him, dazed, lost in her ultimate heaven, getting the sex she'd 
wanted so furiously for so long, making her cling to her maidenhead and 
then fight both Texas and Maddy.

"Fuck me," she whispered.

He drove his prick forward with a glad cry. Swollen cock nestled inside 
swollen cunt lips, found the encouragement of sweet, hot body oils, 
notched her inner passage and violated her.

"Heaven," she moaned.

"Best of my life!" he cried.

Slowly, slowly he fucked her open while she panted and thrilled, until 
his prong pressed lightly on her uterus wall. They were totally locked.

Then, with his daughter fully prick-laden, Vic lowered himself against 
her flesh, belly to belly, chest to chest, mouth to mouth. His tongue 
snaked out and drove between her lips while she writhed happily and 
gasped at this double invasion. Eagerly they sucked tongues, washed 
teeth, explored pink tissues.

When her mouth was numb, he moved down to her tits to caress, gobble 
and tease those big nipples. Flair thought she would faint from the 
hot, flashing pleasure that raced from those sensitive breasts to her 
box and back.

"Ah, I can't believe!" she sang.

Then Vic carefully got his arms behind her shoulders and began a long 
slow fuck, all action in their locked loins, each staring in the 
other's eyes as if reliving all those deprived years and making up for 
it in the slow drive and thrilling friction of prick moving 
majestically in cunt.

Long, breathless minutes passed filled with sighs, gurgles of joy and 
groans of exquisite pleasure. Flair moved her own butt to keep the 
friction just below the stage of orgasm. On and on, they dragged it 
out, both bodies covered with sweat, bellies sucking air, hot flesh 
thrilling to hot flesh.

At last Flair gave a gasp of impossible wounding. "Oh, I can't last any 
more. Wooo!"

"Shall I m-make it a rush . . . or let it happen."

Her body ached madly for relief and sang with approaching orgasmic 
fury.

"Three . . . three more shoves, Daddy."

He gave her hot belly three more fierce fuck thrusts and they both went 
paralyzed in that faint-like joy of immobility as the nerve net and 
muscles prepare to explode.

"Now!" he yelled.

"Yesssss!" she screamed, sobbing.

She felt her whole belly, her whole body stiffen. She felt massive 
streaks of incredible joy overcome her as her cunt first tightened on 
Vic's daddy-prick and then began to flex. Throb, throb, throb. She spun 
out in a wild, gossamer web of total relief and total ecstasy, rocking 
under Vic, giving up her womanhood, squeezing the cock to have its 
juices, fucked to the limit of her powerful young body.

"Eeeeeee."

Vic gave his own wounded cry of delight. His prick, already ultra stiff 
and crazed to complete passion, seemed to lock harder, and then his 
wondrous bursts came. Spurt, spurt, spurt. Freely, openly, vulgarly he 
seeded his daughter's cunt with huge rushes of come, gush after gush of 
manhood in incestuous madness, washing her womb wall with his sperm, 
sighing and slobbering in relief and the supreme glaze of good feeling 
at a perfect fuck and cock throw.

Throb, spurt, throb, spurt. On and on the orgasms went until they were 
dizzy with relief and joy and half-conscious with erotic satiation.

"Ohhhhhhh."

"Ahhhhhhh."

They finally expired and dozed happily in each other's arms, glowing 
from the peak sex run of their lives.

Alone in his room, George nursed his flask and faced the fact that his 
bride wasn't coming tonight. He had a pretty good idea of where she was 
and where Maddy was too. As for him, he was nowhere. He looked down at 
his flask, no longer necessary in these post-prohibition times.

"I should line you with rubber and turn you into a cunt," he told the 
flask. "At least you never desert me!"



Chapter 10


By 1939 Billy Rose and the New York World's Fair were ready for each 
other. America's greatest city wanted a fabulous exposition. Rose 
wanted to nail down, once and for all, his reputation as a great 
showman. His 1935 Jumbo, his 1936 Ft. Worth Centennial Casa Manana, and 
his 1937 Cleveland Aquacade had lifted his star to the heights. Now he 
wished to put it in permanent orbit.

Yet he was not chosen at first to have a part in the New York Fair. 
When he learned there was to be a 10,000 seat amphitheatre to be filled 
with some sort of show, he knew the logical answer was a new aquacade, 
better than Cleveland's. But first he had to win the job of Director of 
Entertainment from Grover Whelan, the Fair's decision-maker. He hustled 
in his unique way - put on a Broadway show called Let's Play Fair which 
not only advertised the show but flattered Whelan with taste and class. 
It was a show that cost him well over $200,000 and it was put on for 
just one man, Grover Whelan.

Whelan came, saw the show and was convinced. Billy Rose got the Fair 
job, put on a fabulous new Aquacade and filled the amphitheatre every 
night. His selection was more than justified when he produced a million 
dollars profit from the show, both in '39 and '40. He was to go on to 
other triumphs but that year at the New York Aquacade, with his lovely 
swimming star, Eleanor Holm, he reached the pinnacle of his career, and 
filled his cup with more happiness when in the Fall of '39 he married 
Eleanor.

It was a great year and the end of an age in America, because World War 
II started in Europe in September.

The New York Aquacade brought together some old friends who had not 
been seeing much of each other. Phil Griffin came off the road to take 
the job as one of the swim choreographers. He knew the value of being 
identified with the world-famous aquacade when he returned to colleges 
with his water shows. His business thrived since he'd gone over Niagara 
Falls in a well-padded barrel and survived, such being the value of 
bravado stunts in his line of work.

It did cost him two months in the hospital and the attentions of Maddy 
Metcalf who tried to dissuade him in a night of lovemaking before the 
event. She saw him through his recovery and then returned to her 
parents in San Diego, who were ill.

Maddy never consummated her marriage with Vic Singleton, as that 
individual seemed disgusted with her for not showing up for a bedroom 
bout on their wedding night, although she pointed out to him that 
they'd consummated to exhaustion some ten years before. A divorce 
followed.

Maddy believed that Flair served Vic as a surrogate wife, and she was 
right. But Flair didn't last much longer than six months. It is a 
peculiarity of incest that while talking about it is never-ending, 
maintaining it is difficult. In the end the mores of society prevail, 
guilt enters and incest ends.

Flair joined Maddy a year later to revive the Austin Sisters and 
eventually they came to the New York Aquacade as singing swimmers or 
swimming singers as in Cleveland.

George left Niagara Falls and Flair, also without enjoying the fruits 
of marriage. "Even a worm," he claimed, "has the right to leave the 
same old apples in the same old rotten barrel." Just as he and Vic went 
through matching marriages, they separately went through matching 
divorces. George was convinced that '37 was not Niagara Fall's best 
year. Through contacts with some of Rose's staff he was able to agent 
some new clients into the '39 Aquacade.

Vic Singleton connected with the Aquacade after a string of odd 
circumstances. While he was freezing his way through the Buffalo winter 
after Flair and Maddy left, he received a letter in the mail which 
contained a deed to a small swim suit factory in Southern California. 
Maddy wrote that her father had died, leaving a business that neither 
she nor her mother wished to manage. If Vic would be kind enough to 
send $200,000 the factory was his.

Three things appealed to Vic about the deal. First, it was warm in 
Southern California, second he was tired of selling non-tangibles. The 
booze he used to sell you could put your hands on, so many bottles with 
so much liquid content inside. An endurance promotion was a phantom 
thing. A swim suit was something you could put your hands on. If it had 
a nubile girl inside you'd put your hands there soon and often. Yes, 
swim suit manufacture assured contact with lots of females, mostly 
undressed. He sent the money.

There was a little bit more to it than that. He'd heard whispers, first 
through his science reporter at the station and later in the garment 
trade that the DuPonts had come up with a new cloth called "nylon", a 
synthetic fabric they were just putting into toothbrushes, but would 
soon feature in hose and other articles of clothing. Why not swim 
suits? The cotton, wool and rubber affairs of the day were heavy, 
ungainly and stayed water-logged. And so Singleton Swim Suits were born 
and Vic was able to get some of his new items used by the Aquacade 
swimmers, which brought him to New York that summer.

Texas Bunny Long showed up in her old single singing role, but with a 
tight-fitting cowgirl costume of a short skirt, silken legs, cowboy 
boots and the inevitable ten gallon hat. This time she sang authentic 
hillbilly songs which were well-received by Fair visitors from the 
West. There was nothing like being in a big, sinful city like New York 
and hearing the plaintive prairie wail one knows so well at home.

With the greatest of efforts the old Atlantic City "friends" managed to 
avoid each other throughout the run of the Aquacade. Vic would hurry in 
and out with his new swimsuits. George would huddle with his new 
talent, avoiding Flair, Maddy and Phil. Flair, Maddy, Texas and Phil 
had to be around a lot for show changes and pick-up rehearsals but in a 
mob of a couple of hundred swimmers, plus dancers, singers, specialty 
acts and musicians it wasn't hard to do.

After the Aquacade closed, Phil gave himself some time off. He went 
down to Atlantic City to do a little swimming and sunning before his 
first water show assignment which began in the Southern sun states in 
October. Atlantic City looked pretty seedy these days. He felt sad as 
he wandered the Boardwalk and the Steel Pier and found the old building 
where George had had his aquarium girl show, complete with a tankful of 
Vic's gin. The building was empty, desolate, boarded up. Even the signs 
were gone.

Gone too was the fabulous Houdini who'd done so much for them. Gone 
these thirteen years because a couple of months after he'd come to help 
them he'd died in New York on Halloween. His last great show had never 
fulfilled itself. He was injured in Canada on that tour when a man 
struck his stomach with his fist at Houdini's invitation. Houdini did 
not have time to tense those rugged stomach muscles, and his appendix 
was ruptured. Death followed shortly.

Did Houdini's ghost wander these streets, and the other places of the 
world where he'd put on his great escapes, Phil wondered. The old order 
had passed. The new world war would surely bury an age.

Phil stayed at one of those old boarding houses with its smell of 
cooked food, wet clothing and rotting wood. On the second afternoon as 
he went to the beach for sun and a swim, he suddenly ran into a living 
ghost.

"Well, now, Phil, I thought you'd show up," said George Panther.

"Ah, George." Phil shook hands. He had no grudge against the sleaze 
promoter.

"Vic Singleton expects us aboard the yacht," said George, waving his 
hands towards the bay.

Phil looked out to sea and rubbed his eyes in astonishment. There was 
Vic's yacht as it had been on that long ago day.

"Vic wants to see me?"

"Yup. He's got some new wild idea. Texas Bunny's over there, and Maddy 
and Flair. Vic himself of course. Your hotel gave us your forwarding 
address and Vic already figured to come back to his old stamping ground 
for a few days."

"I'm leaving town!" cried Phil.

But he was only kidding. He was curious. And on this trip George's boat 
had enough gas for them to reach the yacht without swimming.

"AquaFun," said VIC.

Phil and George found him seated in the big cabin where the Catalina 
steak dinner had been held. Lined up behind drinks were Texas Bunny, 
Maddy and Flair. There were polite nods.

"What's aquafun?" asked Phil.

"My new water show," said Vic proudly. "Our new water show. Billy Rose 
had a trademark on "Aquacade" so we'll use my title. We'll use your 
show schedule across the country, featuring my Singleton swim suits."

"We will?" said Phil.

"That's only the beginning," said Vic. "What goes on in Atlantic City 
every year since 1921?"

"The Miss America contest," said Phil. He'd already seen some of the 
contestants around town.

"The war may reach us," said Vic. "I hope it doesn't, but it probably 
will. Roosevelt can hardly keep us out. We can't affect that, but wars 
are grim. People need something soft and beautiful and glamorous in 
troubled times. Like a new beauty contest, only on the West Coast 
instead of here. Sponsored by Singleton swim suits and others. We'll 
build up to it in about a year. And Texas and the girls can go along on 
your shows while George gets us publicity and I get some of my old 
radio friends to push us along. It can't miss, huh, Phil?"

Phil sat down gingerly as if he expected his pocket to be picked and 
stared at them all. Texas Bunny, who already had a pretty good 
reputation as a singer. The beautiful girls, Maddy and Flair, who could 
sing and swim. George to line up talent and boost the shows. Vic to 
bankroll a much classier line of productions in the colleges than he'd 
been able to afford. Costumes. Musicians. Tabloid versions of the 
aquacades. Why not?

Suddenly he grinned.

"I don't hear anything that makes me want to jump overboard," he said.

The rest of them cheered, somebody put a drink in his hand and the ice 
was broken as everybody babbled happily at once.

But soon a strange silence fell. The moon hung low over the bay, while 
a soft ocean lapped at the yacht's hull. Restless people came together, 
broke apart. Phil felt aroused. Something sexual had to happen with 
this crowd because all three females excited him and he knew he excited 
them.

But how? The tension rose. He wandered into the bar to find the girls 
seated all in a row, nervously playing with drinks, like teenagers at a 
dance, hoping to be asked, dreading it. Vic looked keyed up. George 
looked scared. Suddenly Phil could stand it no more.

"What I suggest," he said, his voice almost a shout, "is that we turn 
off all the lights, send the crew below deck, remove our clothes and 
play 'Sardine'!"

There was a moment of shock and then the happy, relieved babble started 
again. The game was what they needed to get started.

The game of 'Sardine' is usually played in a large house with many 
rooms, halls and other hiding places. One person is chosen sardine. The 
lights go out. The sardine hides. The guests search for him. As each 
person discovers him, he or she bodily piles on top of the sardine, 
trying not to giggle or laugh and give away the hiding place to those 
still searching. As more and more guests find the spot they throw 
themselves bodily on the pile, making a people pyramid. The object is 
to be first, or at least avoid being last to find the sardine and join 
him in his sardine tin. Playing the game nude adds a distinctly erotic 
flavor.

Phil guessed that the yacht would do nicely and that the game would 
only go one round, and he was right on both counts.

Vic sent the crew below, all lights were put out and everybody 
stripped, the girls giggling. Phil was selected as 'sardine'. He 
streaked directly for the deck-level stateroom and dove on the bed with 
the big "S" on the spread, the bed where he'd first screwed Flair so 
long ago, where he'd seen Vic toss Maddy.

Seconds later the bed filled with nude, squirming bodies, male and 
female and seconds after that cocks were pumped hard by feminine hands, 
cunts stroked wet by the men. The orgy was on, the game over.

Phil found himself on top of a warm, voluptuous and squirming nude 
female. He had her face down on the bed. Without finding out who it was 
in the dark, he forced his cock under her ass, found her cunt and 
violated her.

"Ahhh, yes," sang Flair. It was her rounded buttocks, firm and muscular 
that he rested on, as he fucked his prick deep into her belly to make 
her groan in pleasure at her unsealing and him to gasp with friction 
joy.

Fair enough. He had not plugged her delicious belly since taking her 
maidenhead so long ago, yet her cunt was sweet and tight, very hot, 
very wet on his rocking, oozing blade.

Somebody had gone into action next to Phil. He reached out a hand to 
enjoy the luxury of feeling another couple ream each other while he did 
his stuff. His hand stroked the soft, shapely thigh of Texas Bunny, on 
top of her a man who turned out to be George Panther. Phil didn't know 
it, but George had once more or less plugged his niece, plugged Flair 
but had only had Texas in the butt. Now he rode his prick happily up 
into the belly of Bunny, humming in pleasure. They ground on each other 
with furious intent.

Phil let their rocking bodies inflame his senses while under him crazed 
Flair bucked fiercely enough for them both.

"Oh, oh, fuck," sang Flair.

"Ah, lover, love your marvelous prick," keened Texas to George.

"Hot, loose-boned woman, sexy," gasped George.

"Round-up time," laughed Phil. His shaft received tremendous surges of 
joy from Flair's cunt. But what was the use of losing yourself in your 
own trip when a whole orgy went on around you. He reached over and 
turned on the light. There was a "thump" and he saw that Vic and Maddy 
had fallen on the floor, pushed off the hot exertions of the other two 
couples. Vic was on top of Maddy, giving the girl's rich body a 
fantastic reaming. Vic made up for what he'd lost at Niagara Falls two 
years before. The fall from the bed didn't even disturb them. They kept 
on plunging, making happy carnal sounds.

"Eeee, yesss, good!" came from Maddy.

"Hot little bitch," drooled Vic.

It was easy to see that while each couple was self concentrated on 
their own hugging, caressing, kissing and fucking they were highly 
stimulated by the other hot sex going on around them. The bed shook as 
if in an earthquake.

Phil grabbed Flair's big tits from underneath, hugged her firm body 
tight and gave her a cock-sprint of furious action, reveling in the 
knowledge that with athletic girls you could be a little rough. He dug 
his mouth into the sweet flesh of the back of her neck, making her 
surge and rock faster under him.

"Uh, uh, uh."

She was getting there in a hurry, thrilling him unbelievably. He was 
ready for this. In recent years and all this summer he'd gotten control 
of his lust that interfered with his business, had almost reached a 
state of celibacy. His neglected cock now made up for lost time.

"Uh-huh!" yipped Flair. She tensed her buttocks thrillingly under him, 
squeezed her legs together and came for him with sturdy cunt throbs of 
surrender against his buried shaft after only about three minutes of 
wild action.

He fucked her through. Then, cock drenched with her burning cunt oils 
he got a bright idea. He slid his blade out of her cunt, moved up two 
inches and dug against her asshole.

"What . . . you doing?" she cried in surprise. Then, "Oweeeee!"

He caught her sphincter by surprise. His lusting shaft broke her seal 
and pried open the soft but tough gut muscle and he drove his prick 
inside her rectum.

"Phil! Wrong hole!" she cried.

"I want your luscious ass," groaned Phil in exquisite pleasure. To sink 
his prong deep in her loin mass between those firm, rounded hams was a 
delectable pleasure. Over her squirmings and protests he oozed his jong 
deep, deep inside of her.

"Oh, my ass!" she keened. "Oh, I'm ass fucked!"

His cock reached its limit, encased in pink gut, held fiercely tight 
all around, saturated with her interior body heat. He dry-throbbed 
richly, feeling the quakes of good feeling to his toes. He began to 
bugger her asshole, thrilling to the play of those powerful buttocks on 
his belly, hugging her close, driving, driving.

"Ohhhh, Phil!"

"Got to have girl ass," Phil grunted, gathering speed and rocking in 
mounting joy.

The others didn't notice, because George was just then spurting hot 
seed in the cunt of Texas and Maddy and Vic were peaking. As Phil drove 
in his new love chamber he heard the cries, groans and gasps of the two 
couples who reveled in cock spurtings and cunt quakes.

At first Flair was shocked at Phil's bold use of her ass. She'd not 
gone much beyond an occasional finger in that private orifice. A thick 
cock was much more of a painful stretch for her sphincter than a slim 
finger. She felt fierce pain at first and the unpleasantly full feeling 
of having her back passage unsealed and used, threatening her living 
organs deep inside of her. There was no womb to stop the progress of a 
hard, driving prick.

"Ah, God!" she sang in distress.

But those sensitive tissues and nerves adapted very well to sex 
stimulation, she found. The agony eased and the slick play of the 
hungry cock soon began to send hot sex thrills shooting up her belly 
and her body.

"Do it . . . faster!" she begged.

Phil raged to his finish now, lifted in the golden glory of a tight 
female hole, sweet friction, hot lust and the excitement of the lewd, 
open sex around him.

"Soooooon!" he crooned, rising to peak.

"Fuck . . . fuck my ass!" she responded. Her finger worked on the clit 
in her empty cunt, making her squeeze and work her fabulous hams 
against him for greater pleasure.

"Now, oh now!" shouted Phil.

He felt the powerful glaze of his coming sex-throw. He gave an animal 
grunt of protest at all that tension and good feeling. Then he burst 
deep in Flair's ass. Spurt, spurt, spurt.

"Ahhhhh," he sang.

It was the ultimate heaven, the breathtaking paralysis followed by the 
crazed spurts of his shaft, powered by the belly and sex muscles 
bunched and organized by the nerves in orgasm. Wham, wham, wham. He 
drove out rich, virile gushes far into Flair's ass interior while she 
squirmed and gasped at the surprising enema of body hot seed on tender 
gut.

"Lush-ee-usssss," went Phil, grunting it off until his crammed sex 
reservoirs had exploded all his juices into Flair's body. They hung 
exhausted after that, because Flair had also reached orgasm. Sexual 
aberrations were the delight of her life, yet somehow she'd missed 
cornholing and she laid in perfect contentment under Phil, his cock 
still firmly planted up her rear, loins attached to her rounded 
buttocks, as they glowed in after-sex euphoria.

"You are a great lover," she panted as her heart rate began to slow.

"You're worthy of great love," he replied, hugging that moist, fucked 
out and voluptuous body.

That was only the beginning of course. After a great deal of petting, 
fondling and even discussion of the new AquaFun and the coming water 
show expedition where they'd all work together, the men were hard 
again. Phil took Maddy, while George had his workout with Flair and Vic 
renewed acquaintance with Texas Bunny's cunt.

After that Phil no longer paid much attention. This happened and that 
happened. Half-dazed with the sweet lust after a long vacation he saw 
the girls play with each other and some good oral action. He remembered 
Texas Bunny's great skill at that form of sex and made sure that he 
surrendered his cock to the greatest expert that had ever mouthed his 
blade.

At some point, the action ran down as they slept like babies, a nude 
pile of humanity, to stir, reach out, caress flesh sleepily and then 
drift off reassured that the sex goodies were still there.

Phil came slowly awake after a long, restful sleep. His head rested on 
a soft, yet firm pillow. As he blinked his eyes, he became aware that 
his body felt terrific, absolutely great after the night of sex. What a 
party! He squeezed his pillow to find that it was a warm and silken 
naked thigh. For a moment he was puzzled as to what he found inches 
from his eyes. Then full intelligence returned. What he stared at was a 
graceful cunt, thatched with glossy black hair. He heard a couple of 
giggles.

He became aware that his cock, so richly emptied inside three ripe 
females in last night's orgy, was hard once more. Impossible! There 
could be little juice left inside of him. Yet his prick thrilled and 
exulted with pleasure.

When he looked down Maddy's sweetly curved leg he saw why. At the foot 
of the bed Texas Bunny and Flair played with his penis, first one and 
then the other sucking on his stiff shaft.

"More?" he asked sleepily as lust began to flame in his sex parts.

"Your cock wants it," murmured Flair.

He lifted his head. He was still on the bed. So were the three girls, 
naked. Of Vic and George there was no sign.

"They sneaked out on us," said Texas Bunny.

He put his head back down on Maddy's creamy thigh. She sighed and 
stirred. Her cunt brushed his mouth. Feeling the new lust capture him 
he opened his mouth and began to eat her cunt, bringing her fully awake 
with suction, his tongue and his teeth.

"Oh, Phil!" she whispered. She started to pull back, then realized the 
fun wasn't quite over, and pressed her warm, oiling organ to his mouth, 
shivering in dawn arousal. Yes, it was almost dawn.

As her oils flowed, he sucked her avidly, drinking down her body warm 
juices, while she gasped and fucked faster and faster on his face. His 
sex interest was intense now, because Flair and Texas Bunny were 
getting serious with his hard jabber, sucking and slurping his shaft, 
giving him teeth that dragged over excited nerves, hot closed mouths, 
and warm saliva.

"Uh, uh, uh," he said as he bucked happily. "Don't know . . . if have 
anything left."

"If it's there, we'll find it," laughed Flair.

So, he had the complete harem, all three of them at once. As he grunted 
his animal lust, felt the rising rushes of good feeling, he realized 
that he was no longer hung on on Maddy alone. He loved them all, he 
wanted to fuck them all in every available hole, over and over. They 
were welded into a unit now, their lusts matched and there were good 
times ahead, both in business and pleasure. All around him was naked 
and hot female flesh, and every line and curve, every breast, thigh and 
leg was elegantly shaped for visual as well as carnal pleasure.

Maddy closed her milky thighs on his head, bucking in rapture, so he 
could no longer hear, nor see, with her belly close to his eyes. With 
the other two on his legs, sucking him off he was buried in nude, hot 
flesh. It was a strange and thrilling sensation to lie there so, giving 
up his cock to whichever mouth was at work, while he gobbled Maddy's 
cunt and drove her crazy with pleasure. Faintly he could hear her 
gurgles and the other two laughing and sucking on his prick. It was 
total immersion in carnal glory. He wanted it to last forever!

"Mmmmmm," was the only sound he could make, and he was the only one who 
heard it but it was the exclamation of total satisfaction.

He tried to hold Maddy back as well as himself to stretch out this 
fantastic dawn sex but his tongue on her hot little clit maddened her 
right up to orgasm. Maybe he made it last ten minutes, the best of his 
lust life. It was touch and go between the furious rich delight of his 
sucked cock and her writhings to glory. She gave up her cunt slightly 
before his cock burst. He felt her deep-gut throbs and whines with 
utter joy as he took her. Then she pulled away panting, murmuring, 
"Never . . . had it . . . so good!"

He grabbed her lower body, pressed his face into the satin-warm 
stomach, stiffened and gave himself up to his fabulous throw.

"Ah . . . wow!" he yipped and then the jism shot off, an incredible 
amount after all he'd thrown off last night. Each gush brought him 
thrillingly alive as he shot off leaping sperm, first into Texas 
Bunny's mouth and then into Flair's as she grabbed his bursting tube 
away to drink the rest of his shots.

"Ah, ah, ah," he expired completely, open and milked, glowing and 
relieved. Was there anything in the world better than orgasm in sex?

After that, Texas and Maddy wanted to sleep some more, but he and Flair 
were fully awake. She challenged him to a nude swim to the shore and 
back.

"I'll let the clean sea wash out my cunt," she laughed.

"You can say the word 'cunt' now!" he laughed.

She looked surprised. "Say it and use it," she smiled. She leaped to 
the boat rail and dived over, her naked body an exquisite form in the 
air. Then it was his turn as he finally got to make his dramatic 
Douglas Fairbanks dive after her, and she watched in appreciation.


The End
